Sleeping Dolls and Bleeding Soldiers

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The man remained quiet, not even daring to gasp in surprise as Hound took him captive. His heart pounded as he stared at that face-- that calmly-evil face. "Captain Hans Friedson, of Hilde's 127th." The uniform was right for it. "You're... you're with the rebellion, right?" He asked. "We've been ordered to arm and feed all rebels we find." He spoke slowly, then swallowed as he tried to shove away his fear before he monstrous man who held him.

It was true, Hilde regularly funded and aided the rebellion's people. They wouldn't outright assist, but they did feed, they did arm, and they did mend.

"Are those men we found yours?" The man spoke before Hound could answer. He glanced toward the stairs, then looked back at Hound. "You don't look like a Ruvan soldier, I mean." The nervous man returned to the previous subject. His eyes were wide as he glanced around.

"Dance." The sound-like-a-voice whispered nearby.

The Hilde captain swallowed. "What was that?"
 
Taking into account the man's claims and the evidence that backed it up, Hound slowly relaxed. The weapon pulled away and he released the lad with a sigh. "Aye, they are mine and I am there's," he said while putting away the dagger. Helping the man to a stand, he gave a soft grunt with the effort before wrenching his sword from the floor. "I'm no Ruvan, nor Hilde. The rebellion hired me to whip their army into shape and give my aid. I'm sorry for the whole throat slitting thing, can't be too careful in an active battlefield." He explained just as the voice spoke up, its harsh rasping voice filling their ears. Hound clenched fast upon his sword. "We are not alone, Captain…"
 
The Captain nodded and rubbed at his neck. "Clearly." He whispered, as though hopeful whatever made the strange sound didn't hear him. "What's going on here?" He eyed Hound a few moments, wary, then shook his head. "Was that a voice?" The man was young and clearly new to being an officer, though his sweat, grime, and the tired set of his eyes showed he'd seen his share of fighting, even if his face was unscarred.

Down below, someone called again. "They won't come out, Captain! They're waving weapons at us!"

"Stand down. I have their commanding officer up here with me. Keep it peaceful and respectful!" The order came without hesitation. "They're rebellion, so they're our allies!"
 
"Indeed it was," Hound said with a slow nod, glancing to the man out of the corner of his eye. "We need to get down there, I need to see my troops and we all need to leave this house sooner than later, least we can find this thing and slay it. It has escaped me thus far, whatever it is." Wielding the weapon close, he motioned to the stairs with it. "Come, let us return to our respective troops and sort this whole mess out." And with that, he traversed down the stairs and throughout the house once more, traveling to the basement and the wall of spears, bayonets and muskets. "Stand down everyone, stand down! They mean us no harm, and instead aim to aid us."
 
The rebel soldiers looked toward Hound, then lowered their weapons. The twins were at the front, and lowered theirs in unison. Their faces were painted with relief.

"They're Hildi?" One voice asked.

"Yes, we're Hildi." The captain answered. "We've got food, water, and some weapons if you want them." He looked around at the rather sad-looking lot. "I think you'll need more than that if you're going to keep fighting." He looked toward Hound. "We can bring you and your men behind our lines and get your people fed properly, until they're ready to see real fighting. They won't last if the fighting comes close this way." He kept his voice quiet.

It was true, most of the 'soldiers' under Hound's command were little more than skin and bone, with little muscle and even less fat to them.
 
"Aye," Hound assured them with a swift nod, waving for them to follow. "Come, get food and water, rest for now," Hound asked of them before turning his attention back to the young commander. "We've lasted long enough, captain. Still, you hold wisdom to your words. Once we have a clear path behind your lines, we will take it…maybe find shelter for the sick, injured or others unable to fight." Helping usher his troops from the basement, he went to collect his own pack and under the assumption it hadn't been disturbed, collected it. "How soon can we leave this position, captain?"
 
"If you're right about what's here, and given the position, I want to be out of here in three hours or less. We can head southeast safely enough-- the fighting is west of here, primarily." He pulled out a map and unfurled it, tracing a finger along their intended path. "Once we hit the dividing river, a ferry will get us across, though..." He trailed off. "You might want to put a hood over yourself if you're planning on wearing that mask for the ferry ride-- the driver tends to get skittish, and I'd like a calm crossing." He flashed a brief grin, almost playful, but clearly nervous.

Behind Hound, his people nervously took up offers of food and drink. The twins were the first to say yes, and were rewarded with bread and cheese that wasn't too dry to eat. They ate with single-minded hunger, staring at the food as it disappeared into their mouths in near-perfect unison.
 
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