His keen eyes swept the dunes of the Shaguad Desert…more barbarians would be coming.
The vultures were still picking the flesh from the bodies of the archers that had tried to ambush them. Are we so unalike? thought Chao, grimly, as he eyed the heap of loot the others had gathered…plundered arrows, axes and the health potions of the fallen. Well, these men weren’t going to need them; there was no Midsummers Dream that they could hope for. Just the eternal sleep of death.
‘Master Tactician’ they called him…a reputation that often felt like a burden. Why couldn’t he just charge in like Gormek or Grimm? He chuckled to himself…Li Xui had called him feather-brained for contemplating it. Her ‘little chick’ as she called him was not the build for ramming and pulverising!
Chao flew one more circuit of the battle field and landed back on the obliging arm of the gormless human that served him as a mobile perch. The man, some soldier with a perpetual concussion stared blankly into the distance, limply gripping his unused sword. Chao sighed…he didn’t mind sharing the limelight with this simpleton…but could he at least get the avatar portrait to himself?