We are so vulnerable these days, we facets of the Soldiers of Splendor; we are so tired. I am sorry. We lost four of our number at Booty Bluff.
The rabble were no match for us; we picked the majority of them off at range. Not even twenty of the Free Islanders stood against us: Bobs boys, a Murder of Crows, the Forgotten Men - just a few thugs left behind by Damson O'hare. They had no real weapons or armour, mostly just sticks, a couple of daggers. But they knew the streets and there were a couple of ambushes.
Once they would have been able to regrow themselves from such an amateurish assault; we have kept their remains in the hope that one day we might find the magic to repair them.
Them crystal folks...
Man, you never seen 'inhuman' until you see the facets shoot. That fatigue that's gettin' 'em all just makes 'em a bit slower, more delib'rate. But it's still deceptive fast, right, like you think the arrow's gonna be slower too, until it gets ya...
Anyway. Sorry for abandoin' my post. Reckon the things are takin' Booty Bay apart right now, in that hideous creepy mechanical way they've got, slowly, silently. But if I'd stayed there I'd be dead.
All the rest are dead, I reckon - the rest of Bobs boys, the Murder of Crows, them two Forgotten Men. Nearly thirty fuckin' perfect bowmen will do that when we hain't got armour or nothin'.
Now scuse me, 'cos I got to go do some screamin' and some havin' terrible nightmares for the rest of me days, an' I reckon I best get started on that right away...
With eerie precision and otherworldly economy of motion, the Soldiers of Splendour drift into Booty Bay; twenty-eight facet archers, advancing cautiously across the plains, shooting anything that moves.
Some of Damson O'hare's men - Bobs boys, the Murder of Crows, the Forgotten Men - move.
Most of them die, bleeding from the deadly accurate arrows; some are cunning enough to set ambush, and shatter the exhausted facets into crystalline fragments. But they are swiftly neutralised, and the Soldiers turn their slow, methodical attention to the destruction of every building still standing in the now-empty city.
With eerie precision and otherworldly economy of motion, the Soldiers of Splendour drift into Booty Bay; facet archers, advancing cautiously across the plains, shooting anything that moves. They swiftly neutralise the few thugs that dare to challenge them, and then they set about slowly and methodically destroying every building in the city.