The light from the dying fire blends into the paleness before dawn as Annaeus arrives on Girvan's beach. The ground shakes for a moment, rattling rocks as they sit in steadily-filling nets and setting fishing boats rocking despite the low tide. The huge magus pauses for a moment to free his crutch from a patch of mud and stomps toward the fire.
Annaeus: Ho, Wodin. Owen, Padget, what fettle?* (He spots the rockfalls being prepared) Smart idea wi' yon rocks.
Owen: It was-
Annaeus: That's interestin'. Where're we makin' our stand, then?
Owen: Here, at first, then giving ground as we might need. The church is strong enough to defend, and we can organise a cattle stampede if we need to. We thought we'd have the villagers gather for a mass and blessing while Padget snuck about and unbarred the doors.
Annaeus: Aye, good. That's two good ideas you lot 'ave come up with on your own. I see we'll 'ave to do this kind of thing more often. Get someone over to the church and 'ave a ring of yon bells - that ought to stir a few bodies.
He twists his crutch in the sandy soil as he steps forward, and the ground rumbles again as he appears at the top of the beach, by the fire. He looks about, reacquainting himself with the village.
Annaeus: Right, then. Keythleen were gettin' ready to witch 'erself along as well, so she should be right behind me. Morphiste'll fly, so she won't be long neither and I fancy the others will be along in their own ways and times. I'll 'ang back a patch until the battle's joined. If need be, I'll fall back to defend the 'Airy Tree - me magic'll be strongest there - an' the others'll likely come with me. You an' Wodin take the rest to the church and try to make sure these farmers don't let anyone with an axe in the door. 'Til then, we'll show yon dead bastards what breathin' wights are capable of when the mood's upon them!
[size=85]* a Yorkshire expression basically meaning 'how are you'. It should be noted that Annaeus rarely seems to care about the answer.[/size]