The bread streaked through the gravy for another track of trying to clean the plate, this time the dull colours of the plate could be seen under the gravy. A hearty dinner in the dreary of Surwich is always hitting home, and the food of the Nightfall cook was always hitting the right corners of his belly. The bread was crunchy and the gravy would balance it out, this was the last on the plate as the meat vanished long ago, followed quickly by the potatoes and other vegetables. A final cube of gravy coated cube of break disappeared in a last gulp.
Marshal John Wilcox groaned as he sat back in his seat, sated and full of guilt. This stage of his plans was where his abilities were of less use. Preparations and supplies, all in the hands of the soldiers and Ms. Finch but he knew he wanted to be of help, instead his mind was screaming that he would just be in the way, chased away from the piles of packed kits and crates. His gaze rolled up to the ceiling as he breathed out.
His eyes flew open with a shock. Heart racing, pulse hammering like a drum. He blinked and looked around in his state of shock. His right hand was grasping at the table, while he was in his human form it wouldn't be a problem but his right hand had shaped into a claw and dug grooves into the table for holding on better. He jolted in his seat again, there was the sound. The thumping sounds outside were loud, the screeches of horror was repeated multiple times now. He had forgotten about the gryphons. Sounded like feeding time for them now.
John blinked as he pushed the heavy oaken door open, sending the hinges squeaking in it's frame, an annoying sound but he'd reckon it would be missed. Or maybe not.
A commanding gaze of light blue eyes were scouting across the village yard of Surwich, taking in each divided up orchestra of the Nightfall, settled in their preparations. Tents were neatly packed down while gryphons were prancing around where they were once pitched. Crates marked by the brigade, filled with their belongings and his men, soldiers and champions alike, all getting ready for the order. At the 8th bell of the night, we set on flight.
The second in command walked up to him, standing at salute before being offered a respectful nod. She was one of the trackers, a hunter of skill. Natascha Blackweald stood to his right, eyes scanning across the soldiers of the Nightfall Brigade. Awaiting your word, sir. We're ready to go
, she spoke out with an awaiting tone. A faint smile on her lips.
He gave her a stare before giving the definitive nod. His voice in a deeper firm tone than Natascha's, Tell the troops we're leaving soon. We're ready to take our home back
.
The Lieutenant give him an ice cutting salute before turning her back to him. Alright, ladies! Pack up ye toys! Gilneas is callin' and ye better be ready to answer! Gryphons take off at the end of the hour!
. A woman of her size carried a boom across the people.
John laughed softly, watching men and women line up at the front, awaiting the final command, the Nightfall crest worn with pride. Every person in front of him wanted to go home. Everyone standing at attention, the row growing larger and multiplied as they mustered. Gryphons jolting the troops as they pranced around behind them.