Quoted By:
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What a test of your loving heart it is, to wander the ruins of the town, trying to reach the castle through the death and decay and scorched remains of Bexley. But you are not alone, and better for it. Leading a group of humans out of ruin and hopefully to someplace better, you draw strength from it and gain the will to persist. As much as that may hearten you though, is nothing compared for your admiration of the spirit of these people. A couple hours before they had given to despair and accepted death, but with something... someone like you to come into the picture and offer a helping hand to lift them up, their hope and their will is restored, perhaps even stronger than your own.
Times like this, you're glad for divinity in relation to them, and glad to be among them. Better than old companions, or worse, one of those distant gods the mortals worship these days... or gods forbid, some nonexistent "deity" of the inhumans. Together with your own people, you march through what remains of the settlement before, up to what officially is the only thing to bear the name of Bexley now; the castle.
<span class="mu-b">"Let us in then! These people have survived the attack, and we all are from Eindward. I am a Swifthawk myself, who among you can address a lord?"</span>
<span class="mu-s">"We can't adequately thank you for your service, and have little to receive you. Noble envoys we can accept, but so many more people..."</span>
Similar to the difficulties of even getting into the ruined town however, now you're barred entry from the castle despite pleas for help. It's things like this, is why the elves and others are prevailing while humans decline. Eventually though. Darry is well spoken enough as nobility to get the defenders to lower the drawbridge at least and send some folks out to meet your assembled crowd.
Though you had expected some other nobles in return, some fancy sorts comfortably holed up in their fortification, the truth is a bit more grim you find. A ragged bunch barely better than the surviving refugees in town, without any organization or hierarchy to speak of. Here on the frontline the constant war has been so detrimental to Bexley that they are quite literally running out of people; a notable portion of the castle guards are women, few here are properly equipped or supplied, and <span class="mu-i">all</span> of them are injured or maimed in some way. Hunger and disease are clear among them, and they are as leery of you strangers are they are relieved that the enemy was driven off.
It's less a functioning noble house and retainers, and rather just survivors of so much conflict barely hanging on to the castle. Were it not for the fortification itself, then Bexley would long have been overrun like the surrounding lands. Who you can even treat with is limited, because the hierarchy and organization is non-existent.
