Even as he watched as the adventurers join the fray, Icarus maintained the discipline of his summoned army. He would not approve of his soldiers charging headlong into the fray, impetuous to slay their foes. This was not the first army that Icarus took command of, and given how history had a way of repeating itself, it would not be the last either. In this instance, he simply led an army that he had total control over, though he would be certain to input a series of quick orders for the Centurkeyons to relay to their Centurkeys. Standing before them, he commanded in the booming voice none could ever mistake when they heard it. It was perhaps the only time he ever spoke with a degree of emotion and authority.
"These turkeys, though they be great in number and of massive size, hold nary a candle to our conviction and our might! You are the hand of my will, a will of iron, clad in the colors of our battle standard! Our moral right! Our dinner!" he began, pacing in front of them from a platform erected at the front of their formation. "They have come here to take that which is rightly ours, granted to us by those that offer us alms and goodness after the war which plagued the lands. For that good cause, we stand prepared to make that sacrifice, to commit to war in the sake of peace and pecan pie. Look to your Centurkeyons, for they shall lead you to victory in this war for the enemy may take our homes, but they'll never take our potatoes!" he cried out to a cacophony of gobbling turkeys.
The Centurkeyons began immediately marching in cadence, bringing a steady thump of clawed feet on grass en masse unison. The rhythmic sounds of "gob, gob, gobl, gawwwwb" echoed across the battlefield as this force of highly disciplined warriors formed their ranks, establishing a wedge and multiple linear flanks. They would take this day, even without Icarus commanding them in simplistic formations. He hadn't had the time to alter the terrain to his benefit, but even as he called upon his golden cloud to rise above the battlefield, he knew he could lay waste to swathes of the land below, much to the chagrin of the creatures that he was protecting with his action.
Rising somewhat above the skirmish, he already saw Attie out in the middle of the fray, behaving like a crazed predator surrounded by prey and starved for weeks. It wasn't quite unsettling given the nature of the people of this world, even if it wasn't exactly common behavior. In his realm of experience, all the adventurers, gods, goddesses, and even a handful of merchants had some inhuman nature about them. It was more unifying than it was divisive. After all, if everyone was a monster, no one was alone in that realization.
Even the newcomer he had never met before seemed to be getting very enthused in the war effort. Icarus chuckled at the affair below. Such vigor in youth was something he had lost a long time ago, to know that victory would come but throwing all effort into the fight anyway. It was a sympathy he no longer shared as time had taken its toll on him and war would never truly end so long as someone had something someone else wanted. Yet, if that were not the case, even peace would be a lie, just a slow, creeping death as there was no reason for anyone to make an effort to improve their station or circumstances.