[x] Physique - Might, muscle, health consciousness and an appreciation of these traits in others. Know how to be stronger.
Alright, Physique, you're up.
PHYSIQUE: You mean we're escaping?
No, I'm just pledging to be a little more health-conscious in future. Settle down.
PHYSIQUE: Your body will bide its time, until it is needed again.
You sit and wait, not that you have a lot of choice. The rain continues, and gets heavier. You have no way of knowing how much time has passed, but surely it must have been a few hours already. The wagon stops and starts several times.
Just as you are almost bored enough to actually consider escape, the covering of the wagon is pulled aside and you see two familiar faces. Brindle stands at the threshold while Tulip hauls herself up on the wagon. Both of them are soaking wet. You can hear raindrops plinking off Brindle's helmet like fingers drumming on an iron pan. Tulip's improvised camouflage cloak is saturated with water, plastered over her broad shoulders.
TULIP: "Afternoon, lady. Talonlord asked me to set you loose, we've arrived at the manse. Just sit tight while I get you out of these."
Why do people keep telling you to sit tight? That's what you are literally being forced to do.
Tulip deftly unknots the bonds holding your legs together and stows the ropes in a bag. Freedom does nothing to return feeling to your limbs, but you twitch your toes inside your boots to begin to restore nervous control. She draws a long knife and leans past you to slice the rope holding your wrists. You involuntarily fall forward a few degrees, released from the sitting position you were forced into.
Finally, Tulip pulls loose the knot tying the gag in place and pulls it free.
TULIP: "Didn't know you were gagged in here, lady. That's rough."
"You get used to it," you croak.
She shrugs, rises and clambers down from the wagon. Brindle sets a bag on the edge.
BRINDLE: "Got a spare rough-weather cloak for you, lady. The rest of your clothes have dried, but they won't stay that way for long out here."
"Thanks, Brindle."
TULIP: "We'll wait outside to escort you, lady. Don't be too long."
She lets the wagon covering swing shut, leaving you alone again.
You take stock of your situation. Damage to skin from the ropes around your wrists is surprisingly minimal, you can hardly even see or feel the burns. You have your clothes, including your boots and Fincher's spare tunic, but all your extra gear, including weapons, seem to have been confiscated. After a few stretches, you stand. Your protesting muscles fall in line.
PHYSIQUE: Finally, freedom!
You examine the cloak Brindle left.
CRAFT: Sturdy, well designed, but not expensive. It's knee-length, heavy wool, reinforced with a leather lining at the shoulders and hood. Standard legion gear. They are normally dyed with madder, but this one is charocal grey.
WAR: That signifies an engineer. Makes sense that it's a spare, Fincher's adjunt engineers don't seem to have made it.
NAVIGATE: It'll get sodden and heavy after too long in the rain, but it should do a good job of keeping you dry until then.
You don the cloak, raise the hood and head outside.
The first thing you notice is that you are much higher up than you expected. You can see the road the caravan has taken, snaking down through rocky chasms and cliffs. While you have been waiting impatiently, half a mountain has been climbed, and in rough weather as well. The rain casts the landscape in a pallor, obscuring whatever muted colours might be found in the island's foliage.
Your feet immediately chill as muddy water enters through holes in your boots.
BRINDLE: "Dismal place, isn't it?"
"Yeah, that's a word for it."
TULIP: "Come on, we're supposed to take you to the talonlord."
There are other legionaries nearby, though they pay you no mind, busying themselves with their tasks of hauling supplies and animals up the hill. You spot another familiar face nearby; Orison is coaxing one of the Raigi warhorses to follow him. It doesn't look like he's seen you.
[ ] Approach Orison.
[ ] Leave him alone, he's busy.
