[IRP] Return to the Dread Isle

[Andy]

Tiras unfastened his vambrace, then his sleeve cuff, letting Renata attend to his arm while Lennox went on his spiel.

"You're making a lot of assumptions there, Lennox," the squire said. "Even if that were true, and we don't know that it is, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that these things, morphs, whatever you call them, even the ones that may have had skill a century ago, have terrible equipment in the present. One of their swords literally snapped on my armor. I'm surprised these things have clothes. And if Wratt, our illustrious leader, was not informed of them, I'd guess that the church wouldn't have known about them either.

"If I had to guess, I'd say that our jobs, such as they were, would have been as preliminary, disposable scouts. The fact that our ship sank and our payload, with which we would have destroyed this 'Dragon's Gate,' went off mid-sinking means that we've failed. They'll probably send in another team, likely to do the same job and eliminate survivors of the first attempt as a method of tying up loose ends. And if those scouts find anything else out here, I'm sure after that, then the mockery of Elimine that call themselves clerics will show up and rain the light of purification down on this place. All in all, I'd like to get off this godforsaken rock well beforehand."

Tiras winced as the bandages were wound tight around his forearm, then buttoned back up his gambeson sleeve and re-buckled his vambrace. He grabbed up his visored bascinet, fastening it over his head before lifting the visor.

"Thank you, Renata," he said. He looked at her, bowing his head in thanks before looking back up at the rest of the group. "The Dragon's Gate seems to be the place we'll find some answers to this mystery, so let's be off."