Silvester was Tired

He had been in and out of combat all day and had barely slept either of the last two nights, fighting off waves of gargoyles, bandits, crows, spawn, and whatever else this land had decided was fit to throw at her ladyship. And now here he was again walking amicably up a hill with Java and Father Erasmus to hopefully save Mari-Lywd and protect Runeheim from these Vulgaris .
“So what do we have to deal with these mages?” He asked the group.
“Just my sword today, but if you fall here I can get you back to your house,” the Father promised.
Silvester nodded in thanks and glanced at Java, who was quieter than Silvester had come to know from her. She looked straight ahead and marched past him.

“Just my magic.”

Instantly, he was back. In the woods, in front of Java as bandits surrounded them. Her magic keeping them at bay, doing her most to protect them.
Then, in the dark, a scant few torches lighting up the shadows of the monastery courtyard. Just enough to know they were surrounded. The knot at their backs, the pain and frustration of a losing battle.
“Hey friend, we are friends. Come on, you don’t want to do this…”
A familiar voice. Tearing his eyes away from the Shadows, from the spawn, to see Java slam Lucian into the ground. He drew his bow and fired on instinct. What was happening!? Java looked at him with a slight head tilt, almost confused. Then her hands started to move.

“We’re here,” whispered the Father.

Silvester glanced around trying to collect himself. A snow packed clearing, two mages and the skeletal spirit they had come to rescue impaled on a spike. Yeah, they were in fact here. He was _here_ . The three of them looked at each other, nodded, and stepped into the clearing. As Silvester drew back his bow he wondered… which Java would he get this time?