Crouching on one knee, the Master Chief surveyed what little ordinance he had in his arsenal. Two frag grenades, one plasma grenade, his BR85, and four magazines for said weapon...

In hindsight, Chief should have been a bit more frugal with using his ordnance during his one-sided massacre with the Zenoirans earlier... Though considering the events of last night happened so fast, it didn't strike him to worry or conserve anything until later when he finally had time to.

Now with the reality of his situation starting to sink in, the spartan decided these items would need to be used wisely or saved as a last-ditch effort.

So then, what was his current game plan? Well, given the medieval technology Fevrith possessed, he'd have to rely more heavily on his physical abilities, stealth, and cover than usual when facing enemy forces. Swords, axes, shields, and bows... None truly possessed enough stopping power to endanger his Mjolnir armor, at least at first glance...

This world had magic. Or something that resembled it at the very least. For all he knew, the spears, swords, arrows, and axes of his foes might even hold some type of ancient magic within or enchantment that may give it some added danger and risk.

Placing a hand on his chest, the spartan's eyes gazed downwards upon his armor, recalling how a witch landed a direct blow right upon his breastplate; luckily his shields had taken the bulk of the attack. Still, such magic seemed a major game-changer for the Master Chief, one which he would not dismiss so easily in the future.

Looking to his left he caught the sight of Rosalinde walking through the forest quietly, her sandals rustling some fallen leaves and crunching on twigs. Standing over him she held her staff, tilting her head in that inquisitive manner of hers, the dark elf's eyes curiously fixed upon his rifle.

"Your weapon is impressive, Master Chief," the elf girl softly said. "If I may ask, do your people always train in the ways of an arbalist?"

Slowly, he raised a brow behind his helmet; she thought he was a crossbowman; well, it made sense for her to try and connect his rifle with something she was familiar with. "Yes." the reply was flat, his answer only seemed to puzzle her more. "We train with various firearms. Both short and long range."

Quirking one brow upward at his cryptic answer, she decided to elaborate, "A... 'fire' arms...?" Her lips turned in a rather cute puzzled manner, trying her hardest to put her companion's description into context...

Her puzzlement was amusing in a way; though Chief wasn't about to show his humor. Standing he equipped his BR85 on his back, "Did you find your resistance group?" he spoke gruffly, cutting to the chase.

Slightly annoyed at his abrupt change in subject, yet knowing it'd be fruitless to question him further, her thoughts switched, "Yes, for the time being, they've established themselves about two miles east of here." the princess pointed with her index finger "It's a small fort called Pikkimp."

The spartan, once again, gave a nod of acknowledgment; satisfied the duo advanced east, "I didn't make direct contact," She walked, continuing to keep up with Chief's brisk steps, "But I saw my people patrolling the grounds, and noted the layout is rather defensive and secure," Rosalinde jumped over an uneven path of rocks, gracefully clearing each jump in a single motion, "Of course the fort seems to have seen better days." she looked at him for any response, but once more the armored man had fallen silent, keeping his eyes fixed ahead of him as they trekked.

Sighing slightly, Rosalinde knew it would take time getting him to respond in a civilized manner; perhaps in his culture, it was common to keep emotions and responses so sealed away, "I've no doubt the Zenoirans have been giving the rebels a lot of trouble of late."

Coming up on a clear spot between the tree line, Chief stood and glanced out from their concealed spot into the small valley. Fort Pikkim was built atop a small hill; its wooden structure making it stand out amidst the trees around the hill.

Small gates, walls, watchtowers, and defenses seemed to be all built around it. Though, with how few weapons and armaments there were, and the pitifully small number of sentry troops walking the grounds, Fort Pikkim hardly posed a viable threat, much less any sort of impediment to Zenoira.

"What was the purpose of this fort?" Chief asked in a curt tone, his eyes not wavering, surveying the area thoroughly.

Rosalinde peeked past his broad shoulders, "It once served as the defense for the Winding Woods; keeping patrols safe, and traders secure, it once prospered and thrived."

"Winding Woods?"

The elven maiden glanced at the woods just south of the fort, "That whole area, Winding Woods. That forest serves as a border between Elheim and Cornia, magically infused to keep unwanted invaders out... Though..." her voice quieted with solemn regret "Not much good it did Elheim, or anyone else."

If Chief hadn't been blasted by magic prior, he might have found the idea of an enchanted forest absurd. But as things were, the thought didn't strike him as a stretch. This place had all sorts of strange, if not bizarre, and primitive elements. A magical, enchanted forest wasn't too far-fetched...

"Come," the oracle looked from the fort to the Master Chief, "Let's meet and establish contact; after that, we can talk more about our situation..."

The pair proceeded forward, hiking up the long gentle slope towards Pikkimp. The main entrance to the fort stood high and guarded by two archers stationed within two separate watchtowers, along with another guard stationed at the base, armed with a halberd.

Coming close, the guard stationed at the bottom spotted the pair and bowed his head. "Ter Rosalinde," he addressed formally. "When the sentries overhead had reported your presence approaching Fort Pikkim, we scarcely believed their eyes,"

Rosalinde giggled and bowed her head in greeting. Her staff remained tight in her grip as she replied to him in kind, "Yes, it's me. But do forgive us, good ser," she motioned a hand towards Chief, "We seek an audience with the commander of this post."

Stepping aside and tapping his halberd twice against the large wooden gates, the entrance was slowly opened. Allowing them inside, several of the garrison soldiers all peered up at the giant green figure, pointing and gawking. At the center, a few humans and elves walked forward to address the unlikely pair, especially their intimidating guest.

Leading the group, an elf with light blonde hair and attire fit for archers stopped a bit and then lowered his head, speaking in a formal tone, "My lady. It is indeed good to see you are in one piece."

Rosalinde slightly bowed her head to him, "Lhinalagos, so you're the one who's set up command for the rebel forces around this region, I should have guessed."

She playfully winked at her old subordinate, as if their current rank and standing didn't exist and was just a silly nuisance. "It's nice to see a familiar face still on this side of the veil," a sincere and genuine expression crossed her beautiful features.

Lhinalagos nodded a few times, his eyes watching Rosalinde's star knight warily, as the others in the garrison assembled slowly congregated at a respectable distance away from both groups. "Your presence itself is reassuring; most of our allies believe you lost to the empire."

Nodding her head slowly, her bright red orbs cast downward a bit, her features reflecting the weariness and hardships she'd experienced while being on the run these past years.

Gazing from Rosalinde to her mysterious knight and back, the resistance leader spoke with a serious air, "My lady, pray forgive my inquisitive nature, but may we inquire of who or what you travel with?"

Stifling a light laugh, Rosalinde knew her old friend's nature and desire for answers all too well, it had served her well through the years they'd trained together, "He is no enemy, but a new comrade, a celestial sent to aid our plight," she motioned her free hand towards Chief, who gazed around the fort.

Glancing back toward the leader and his entourage, their bewilderment and expressions of confusion became apparent, prompting Rosalinde to continue, "He has agreed to support and lend a hand against Zenoira."

Nods and murmurs resounded from the gathered soldiers at her declaration. A celestial? A servant of Ervélda perhaps?

Lhinalagos furrowed his brows a bit while scratching his chin and pondering before motioning Rosalinde and her comrade to a side building.

"While the extra help would be a welcome blessing, one...man, won't bring back Elheim from the grave.." he crossed his arms and regarded her with concern, his eyes studying the unknown creature.

Gripping her staff firmly, Rosalinde leveled Lhinalagos an assertive gaze. "His abilities and armaments should not be so lightly dismissed," she nodded. "I believe he has the skills necessary to lend us an edge in our efforts."

She peered intently at Lhinalagos who nodded once but frowned with concern. "That's all well and good," his face showed his hesitation, and despite Rosalinde's friendship with him and his having the utmost trust and devotion in her words and skills, a solitary warrior with grand combat effectiveness did not constitute much of a game-changing factor.

Entering what seemed like a war room, or at least a planning room, several maps, records, letters, parchments, quills, and other paraphernalia littered the space as a round wooden table sat in the center, large candles burning upon its surface, casting light through the darkened space.

As both Rosalinde and Lhinalagos entered and sat, Chief opted to stand, though kept to a nearby wall, and gazed at a rather detailed map. It looked to have various markers for each settlement and location, all bearing Zenoira's symbol and occupation of power.

"We're constantly on our back foot," Lhinalagos sighed bitterly. "Every single step, every ounce of progress, we're constantly trying to push against Zenoira, just to stay afloat..."

Leaning upon the table, he lowered his voice a bit more. "Your presence is greatly appreciated, My lady. But we can't rely on your companion here for a true miracle," his gaze momentarily flicked toward Chief before resting on his liege once more. "We need an actual fighting force, some kind of reprieve, to gain an advantage..."

Biting her lip lightly, Rosalinde knew Lhinalagos would be skeptical. And while the elf was most assuredly the finest marksman with his bow, he possessed quite the sharp and accurate tactical mind, too.

But he was wrong in this case. Her star person, Master Chief, could single-handedly be the force they so badly needed and required to turn the tide!

Pursing her lips and wracking her mind, Rosalinde pondered and considered how she could demonstrate Chief's overwhelming prowess. Looking up and peering at him, Rosalinde felt that, in some ways, his mere presence alone provided a modicum of confidence. Perhaps, the only thing they needed to do was ask the Master Chief himself.

Pivoting, Rosalinde regarded her compatriot with determination "Master Chief," she called out. "Would you honor us with a demonstration of your mettle?"

Looking over at them, Chief already had the gears turning as to what might be the best way of presenting his usefulness... Perhaps carving much-needed room in Zenoira's advance and allowing the Resistance some breathing space and leeway was in order...

Slowly and steadily he walked, the spartan's movements, seemingly graceful. "The village of Vilta," He'd studied the maps well enough in the last few minutes, picking out its position and details, "It's a front for Zenoiran supplies, logistics, and restocking." His gaze rested solely on his fellow dark elf, who studied his tone and words intently, while Lhinalagos' light teal orbs were both scrutinizing and distrustful.

"I'll infiltrate and disable their forces," his tone was resolute, and Rosalinde was taken aback, her lips parted in an 'o' shape.

"Alone? Without reinforcements?" she questioned him, a twinge of anxiety beginning to set in. "Master Chief, while you are a formidable fighter, to take such a risk alone-"

The Master Chief interrupted her words with a curt remark, his words concise and to the point, "I've already scouted the layout."

While Lhinalagos leaned backward in his chair, somewhat surprised. The hulking man turned to leave; his mind was made up, his conviction clear. If this behemoth could be capable and carry out the assault alone, that meant fewer resources the Resistance needed to dedicate.

Having Vilta under their control would be an excellent staging post into the eastern provinces of Zenoiran-occupied Elheim...

But that was wishful thinking, wasn't it...? Surely, such a feat was impossible; one lone warrior couldn't be a match for even a small garrison or brigade.

Standing abruptly and catching up to Chief in long steps, Rosalinde quickly turned and regarded her elven friend. "Excuse us for just a moment." before following out of earshot.

Parting through the gathered throngs, Rosalinde practically glided through the troops as her feet carried her with great haste trying to keep up with Chief's long, deliberate strides.

Was he really intent on trying this now?! Shouldn't he take time to rest first? They just arrived, and he was already wanting to head out again.

"Master Chief," the oracle, in hushed tones, almost sounded winded. "Surely you were jesting? I cannot fathom allowing you to execute this assault alone," her eyes filled with concern and a touch of disbelief.

The spartan's body kept walking without wavering, his mind mulling and taking in everything. "You said to demonstrate my abilities."

"Indeed I did," Rosalinde snapped in quick reply. However she had in mind some kind of controlled demonstration or perhaps a small task that needed to be carried out. "but certainly this is a bit much, yes?"

"Negative," Chief turned slightly to face her, his feet continuing forward with his determined trek. "This will allow your Resistance the opportunity and breathing room to reorganize and gather." His arm reached out and gently nudged her back towards the meeting chambers. "Go. Once I've almost finished my task, I'll signal for your forces. Then they can mop up."

The dark elf's lips contorted in a distasteful grimace, not entirely convinced Chief was going to come out the other side. "And how are you to summon me and my comrades, precisely, when the time comes?" her tone and skepticism were hard to ignore.

Chief turned from her and walked onward, his footfalls thudding through the small courtyard. "I'll find a way." he calmly remarked.

Rosalinde stopped in her tracks, stomping her foot in an almost childish pout. Why did the man have to be so obstinately sure of his abilities and plans?! Surely a few moments to fully consider the situation and discuss would not hurt his ego?!

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Rosalinde raised her palm to the heavens. "Ervélda protect him, may the spirits bless and guide him," she muttered with great resolve, turning about. She needed to get the men and supplies ready.

The trek to the village wasn't long, and soon, the supersoldier found himself snaking into an alleyway; Chief waited as a group of soldiers filed past him and continued down the pathway; their chain-mail rustled lightly while their boots clanked rhythmically on the hard-packed dirt street.

Slinking silently deeper in, he squared his shoulders and peeked at the pair of sentries positioned by the village's northern gate, two troopers lazily posted while conversing about the patrols.

This town didn't have that many guards, but it had plenty of supplies and goods to fuel and restock any camps or convoys moving in and out of the territory. Seizing the village and its bounty would aid the resistance greatly...

Grabbing a brick from the ground and clutching it in his grasp, the spartan went through a few practice motions, weighing the size and weight in his hand. Aiming, his muscles coiled and his eyes narrowed as he lined up the shot. Flicking his wrist, his arm released, sending the chunk of debris flying through the air, and hitting the farther target square in the temple.

Seeing his comrade go down, the closer soldier bent down to assist his partner, unknowingly giving his backside away to the Master Chief. Heavy footsteps closed the distance and just as the remaining trooper turned about, the spartan's hands flew forward, seizing the trooper by the throat.

Lifting the now thrashing guard from the ground, the spartan's hands gave a tug as his vice-like grip snapped his neck with ease, dropping the corpse carelessly into a pile atop his partner. Carefully, he stashed both corpses from view, hiding them behind some barrels.

Chief continued throughout the village with a methodical, predatory instinct, working his way inwards, knocking off as many wandering sentries and lone patrols as he could...

He was like a ghost, vanishing from view whenever another patrol came by. The Zenoirans had no clue he was there.

It wasn't until a rather brave hoplite tried to help another comrade in the spartan's grasp that they became aware of his presence. Charging towards him, the soldier hefted his Great shield up and lunged forward, trying to tackle Chief and send him reeling backward, a tactic meant to force an enemy off-balance and open to attacks.

Letting the Zenoiran in his grasp drop, Chief raised his shoulder and took the hoplite's tackle head-on, the resulting impact causing him to move back only an inch while sending the trooper sprawling to the floor. The brief distraction allowed the fleeing soldier to escape and raise the alarm.

The Master Chief didn't have long to wait as the cry to arms rang through the town. Soldiers rallied to the sound of the gongs, heading towards his location in a hurry. With the element of surprise gone, Chief brought out his knife that was stored within his gauntlet and waited.

With no magick users in sight, the spartan was confident he'd be able to take them head-on.

It wasn't long before three troopers came running forward with swords and spears drawn; their weapons held at the ready as their eyes locked onto the Master Chief. "This is how we deal with spies!" one of them yelled out.

Darting forward with his knife drawn, he charged and smashed the blade through one of the soldier's chainmail and dug it into his stomach as the other two lunged forward with their spears.

Closing on him in a pincher move, one went low, while another jabbed high. Breaking like twigs against the spartan's armor, kicking the impaled trooper away from himself, Chief quickly slashed at the throats of his two attackers.

As a fresh wave of reinforcements came rushing in, the spartan made his move, hopping onto rooftops and leaping across the gaps. Making his way towards the center of town where a large pavilion was set up, Chief took note of the many wagons filled with various supplies.

Ignoring the Javelins and arrows that either bounced off or shattered upon hitting his Mjolnir armor, the spartan continued jumping and dodging throughout the town. "There!" "Over here!" "Bring him down!" the voices of the Zenoiran soldiers shouted in frustration.

Landing down upon the hard-packed earth, the Master Chief made a beeline for the wagons of supplies, eyeing, to his surprise, a contraption that looked like a primitive landmine of sorts... Was that possible to even create with medieval technology? Maybe it was magical...

Either way, Chief gave it some thought before coming up with an idea. Grabbing two off the wagon, he threw one high into the air; reaching for his rifle, he switched to single-round firing and aimed.

Nearing its apex, the Master Chief lined up the shot and fired.

A thunderous roar shook the buildings as a brilliant flash lit up the sky! The resulting explosion, blinding most of the nearby guards, left them dazed and confused as they scrambled, unsure of what had happened.

Tossing the other mine down, it landed with a dull thud right before a cluster of soldiers. Their confused and disoriented glances only made it easier for the spartan to target and fire at the object.

The resulting blast tore the group apart, their screams filling the air and causing panic to ripple throughout the ranks.

With their forces in utter chaos, Chief continued his assault through the town. Rushing and engaging any Zenoiran troops who tried to stop him. If everything went to plan, Rosalinde and the resistance saw his signal and were on their way with reinforcements.

Shouting amongst the Zenoirans grew louder and more frantic as the soldiers rushed about with no real sense of control, their leader having been killed by Chief when the supersoldier first arrived in town.

Setting up a few barricades and fortifications, a knight tried his best to rally the remaining troops together. Forming a defensive perimeter, he'd managed to get a few of the men into some sense of order. He didn't know what was going on, but surely they could hold out long enough for aid to arrive.

It was just one man!

As he turned and began barking orders, an archer came stumbling from one of the back alleyways towards their position, dropping his bow and crying for help, he frantically waved and yelled out.

"Resistance forces! Resistance forces incoming!"

The knight shook his head in dismay, cursing himself silently. It couldn't be true, though; surely this was a trick? The fools had been on the run for years now, never daring to launch a frontal assault against Zenoiran positions.

Then, he heard it. The warhorns sounding, the distant cries of the soldiers approaching, and the thunderous crash of hooves.

It was no ruse. Elheim's forces had rallied under this mysterious person...

Already the men who were trying to hold their ground were breaking formation and either running away or simply surrendering on the spot, unable to withstand the thought of the coming onslaught.

The knight cursed and screamed out "Damn it all, stand your ground! Stand your ground!" he barked in a frantic tone.

"Sir, we don't stand a chance! There are dozens of them!" one of the hoplites shouted back, while the rest looked at their commander with uncertainty and fear in their eyes.

"There could be a thousand for all I care!" the knight snapped, his face flushed red with anger as the resistance forces grew closer, "We'll stay put and fight them, to the very last-" his words were cut off as an arrow flew through the air, piercing right through the side of his neck. Sending the man to the floor in a choking, bloody mess.

Scattering in terror, the remaining Zenoirans either ran or were cut down as the resistance forces flooded into town like a tidal wave, their weapons raised and voices high with pride and fury.

Watching the soldiers sweep into the city, Chief pulled his knife from the chest of a Zenoiran soldier, wiping the blade clean before sheathing it once more. Whoever sniped that arrow did an excellent job at ending that knight's life.

"Celestial..." a familiar voice rang from nearby, as Lhinalagos approached. Bow gripped tightly in hand, answering the unasked question of who fired the lethal arrow just a few moments ago.

"I must admit, I had doubts about Rosalinde's claim, but you've certainly proved yourself." His head lowered with the utmost respect for his ally.

Chief simply gave him a single nod as the dark elf appeared beside Lhinalagos, her face lit up as her eyes sparkled at the sight of her celestial being standing unharmed.

Hearing a few shouts and needing to begin directing his forces, Lhinalagos nodded and departed. Leaving Rosalinde by herself as she quickly walked over to him.

"Chief!" she practically beamed with joy. Her lips turned into a smile as she gazed up at him. "Your signal was perfect; the timing couldn't have been any better!"

She took a step closer and gently patted his armored chest. "Lhinalagos was a bit worried we'd be discovered in the forest while preparing," she mused. "But I assured him you'd come through."

The spartan said nothing but simply gazed down at her, his visor hiding any expression he might have held. The way she acted around him was... different than what he had grown accustomed to. Forward and vibrant in personality, he wasn't used to seeing such behavior among the ranks of the UNSC.

"Anyways!" she suddenly chirped, catching Chief's attention, "Let's see about helping any townsfolk and get this place secure!" she grinned with her hands on her hips, her head tilting to the side slightly in a cutesy manner.

"Understood," he spoke in a curt tone. Though his mind was racing at what to make of his new partner. They'd likely be working together for some time. Magic, elves, knights, it was all so... different... A part of Chief still wondered if any of this was even real.