Amalgia

22-03-659 CO

The Malichet blinks in the moonlight. On, off, on, off, as it periodically glistens with a warm amber light. A distant warning signal, the promise of violence cresting on the horizon.

Captain Sparrowsong has no idea how far off the threat is. All they can do is alert the night watch, relaying orders of extra vigilance throughout the remaining twilight hours, and wake the other Officers in Post. Not a job the good Captain ever likes performing, but this night they appear to have drawn the short straw.

At least they are well versed in this dance by now. The process is a swift one. Within the hour, every person who needs to be apprised of the situation has been.

In the wake of those orders, tension filters through the men and women at the camp in hushed whispers. Prayers leave their lips. Half out of fear, half in hope. Captain Sparrowsong shakes their head; there is no one left to answer the prayers of poor souls like these.