If Vega had jumped in front of them in the thick of it, they would have had words. Maybe not right then and there. But later, and strong ones too. And yet there was always the sense of him wanting to do the same, while keeping an eye on her. But it wasn't just the undesirable thing to do in a situation like this. It was ill advised, as close to outright foolish as could be. Any distraction, and one of them or one of the villagers could be cut down as a result where otherwise they wouldn't have been.
More than anything, Arlo opted out of most of his Immortal given abilities while in the thick of it. Except, that was, the added strength and resilience that had been granted through Cassion's blessings. It wasn't so much choosing to use them, as they'd simply become part and parcel to who and what he was. Opting out, would be like asking a man not to use his own hands, his legs, his head.
It was an uphill battle in a sense. It wasn't the number of the raiders but their skill that was the problem. He was battered and bruised by the time it was done, and more than one of the villagers that had stayed behind had fallen. Still, those that still stood were a testament to the raiders finally being eliminated or driven off. Surely, one or two had recognized a losing battle and had slipped away into the forest to follow their comrades.
"I'm fine," he said when it was over and Vega found him, and while he was busy catching his breath. "Most of the blood is somebody else's, not mine," Arlo added by checking on her, no matter what she told him. She hadn't come out unscathed after all. But they'd come through it by combining skill, and sometimes dumb luck. And more of the villagers who'd stayed behind, had stayed standing. Compared to those that had fallen.
The smell was unsavory to say the least, the damage was extensive. There were bodies scattered about and it was going to be a lot of work putting all this together again. And some things couldn't be put back together. Focusing on the work however would hold off the natural response of a body to seeing, hearing and smelling things like this. So it was work now, to help the wounded and all the rest. And deal with the fallout for themselves, once they returned to camp.
More than anything, Arlo opted out of most of his Immortal given abilities while in the thick of it. Except, that was, the added strength and resilience that had been granted through Cassion's blessings. It wasn't so much choosing to use them, as they'd simply become part and parcel to who and what he was. Opting out, would be like asking a man not to use his own hands, his legs, his head.
It was an uphill battle in a sense. It wasn't the number of the raiders but their skill that was the problem. He was battered and bruised by the time it was done, and more than one of the villagers that had stayed behind had fallen. Still, those that still stood were a testament to the raiders finally being eliminated or driven off. Surely, one or two had recognized a losing battle and had slipped away into the forest to follow their comrades.
"I'm fine," he said when it was over and Vega found him, and while he was busy catching his breath. "Most of the blood is somebody else's, not mine," Arlo added by checking on her, no matter what she told him. She hadn't come out unscathed after all. But they'd come through it by combining skill, and sometimes dumb luck. And more of the villagers who'd stayed behind, had stayed standing. Compared to those that had fallen.
The smell was unsavory to say the least, the damage was extensive. There were bodies scattered about and it was going to be a lot of work putting all this together again. And some things couldn't be put back together. Focusing on the work however would hold off the natural response of a body to seeing, hearing and smelling things like this. So it was work now, to help the wounded and all the rest. And deal with the fallout for themselves, once they returned to camp.
