Remote valley of Timberhollow

Cass nods in agreement, saying, "You have provided us shelter, so we will do what we can to help! Well, I will, at least."

John rests his hand on the hilt of his sword, mind whirling as he makes sense of what Edrik had said. He doesn’t know anything about storms, shrines or any of the magical phenomenons that he finds occurring around him. He feels lost, and dangerously out of his depth. Though as he grasps the hilt of his sword, he finds a sense of courage in the memories of acquiring the fine weapon. His also mind goes to his armor, finding strength in its legacy. Taking a deep breath, John turns to the others trying to gauge what they all might be thinking. "I think I will stay at the gate to help in the defense." John finally says, still watching the others. "What of you three?"

If the people here are asking us to guard the chapel, then Cass will do so. She heads toward it, preparing for the worst.

Des nods without hesitation, then looks to the rest of the group for affirmation.

Des says "Understood," in a low, gravely voice. He nods to the group, says "good hunting," then grabs a bundle of arrows. He continues "when this is done I will look for you," and heads to the nearest tower.

Surprised by hearing Des speak John looks to him and nods. "I wish you luck." After watching him leave John then turns to Edrik, "You can count on me to be in the square, Ill do my best."
He continues to the square and sets himself to helping the townsfolk move into the basements, suggesting makeshift barricades should these "beasts" try getting inside. Then he aids in any preparations for the defense of the square. he offers his knowledge as a smith to sharpen blades or fix up makeshift armor if there are any. He even offers his old weapon, a one handed battle axe, to anyone that will be aiding in the defense of the square.
John does his best to busy himself with these tasks, though he constantly glances around and listens. Not knowing when the "beasts" will show themselves.

Alden stands near the gate, arms crossed, watching as Edrik assigns roles to John and Des without so much as a second glance in his direction. He’s used to it—being overlooked, underestimated. He doesn't wear heavy armor, nor does he carry a bow or blade that marks him as a warrior. Just a simple cloak, a few pouches, and a dagger that doesn’t quite scream "battle-mage." Still, it stings.

It’s not that Alden expects respect, but being outright dismissed grates on him. He had felt the storm’s magic before they even saw it coming. He knew the dangers before anyone had to explain them. And yet, when it comes to preparing for the fight, the guards see only soldiers, not spellcasters.

Fine.

Without a word, Alden follows John as he heads toward the square, trailing just far enough behind that it doesn't seem like he's following him—at least, not obviously. As John helps the townsfolk into basements, offering his smithing knowledge to sharpen blades and reinforce armor, Alden does what he can in the background.

He’s no blacksmith, but he understands wards. While John barricades doors, Alden discreetly traces simple runes onto the wooden beams, barricades and stone thresholds with a piece of chalk. They aren’t powerful spells—he never mastered grand incantations—but these small sigils should help reinforce the wood, making it harder to break. A well-placed ward might turn a reckless charge into a stumble, buying precious seconds. He doesn’t explain what he’s doing. If Edrik or anyone else notices, they can ask.

As he finishes marking another doorway, Alden tightens his grip on his dagger. He may not have been given orders, but that doesn’t mean he won’t fight. When the creatures arrive, he’ll be ready—and he’ll prove he’s not just some forgettable scholar.

Des joins one of the watchtowers to the side where you youth and middle aged man, who looks to be a shopkeeper, greet him. From his vantage he sees the strand rain falling from the Borderstorm wash over the hills and edges of the valley. The leading edge appears to be the most violent portion of this storm and he estimates the whole thing should pass them by in about half an hour.

Minutes pass and no sign of anything strange near the village as the storm rages beyond is cause for thanks, though the rain falling on all the towns guardians makes the wait a bit miserable as well as tense. Then Dessees something in the trees that looks like a swarm of fireflies. After a moment he notes several of these swarm in the trees near the road he had just come by to town. He does not recall seeing any fireflies at that time and his suspicions are confirmed when one of his companions follows his gaze and gasps a curse before preparing his bow.

---

Back in the heart of the village Cass feels an odd spiritual sensation pressing in from outside the village walls but drawing nearer. Cass, roll a test to try and feel out more information.. The guards around 3 sides of the village are calling alarm and those closest to the gate are readying their bows.

Aldem and John have another round of preparations, waiting idly, or other actions

Cass waves at Father Havel when he greets her and she smirks knowingly at what he says. She nods when he instructs her on what to do and says, "I'll do my best to help. If Lenna wishes to bless me, she may. I will be calling on the spirits to aid us. as well as smacking things with my staff, of course. And yes, I can tend to the wounded, as well."

She turns and prepares for what is to come. When the old woman hands her the bundle of supplies, Cass smiles warmly and thanks her, vowing to use the supplies to help any injured folks.

Finally, she senses a coming threat. She calls on the spirits to assist her as she focuses her feelings on the sensation and tries to sense more about what approaches.

John feels better as he assists the townsfolk. Helping to move any goods they needed or objects to block the doors. Even finding some dull weapons or loose armor to touch up. Anything to take his mind off of the storm. He hadn’t found anyone to give his axe to, so he stowed it in a loop of his belt.

Then, as he moves to join the other defenders, the shouts of the watchmen on the wall begin to ring out. He marches over to the center of the town square and double checks his own armor.

Lastly he draws his sword looking at the light of the storm, reflected in the blade. Wondering if it will actually work this time, he rings the blade against the ground. John is relieved as he sees the blade spark as it strikes against the cobblestone, the sparks bursting to flames along the blade instead of disappearing.
John spots Alden and Cass, salutes them with the burning blade, then turns to watch the streets leading to the town square. Readying himself for whatever may come.

Alden steps back from the last doorway, flexing his fingers as the magic settles into the wood. The rain drums steadily against the rooftops, but the tension in the air drowns out everything else. Then the shout comes from the watchtower.

Alden’s head snaps up. There—beyond the walls, something move through the trees. His stomach tightens as he hears the curse from one of the guards.

It’s starting.

He steps back from the building, slipping his dagger from its sheath. The blade is simple, well-worn, but it’s not for fighting—it’s mainly for focus. Magic is about willpower, but having a physical conduit helps. Alden turns the dagger in his hand, pressing his thumb against the flat of the blade.

He closes his eyes for a heartbeat, pulling at the currents of energy that weave through the world. His pulse slows, his breathing steadies. Then, he pulls.The air around him tenses, bending inward. A low pressure hums in his ears as raw force gathers in his grip, coiling like a storm held just at the edge of release.The magic waits, held tight, balanced on the edge of his will. One movement, one word, and he will unleash it.

Now, all he needs is a target.

Des knocks an arrow, and aims at the swarm. Deep breath... release!