Medieval Fantasy: Rise of the Free Companies

[Destichado]

Zendar was burning.
In the first light of the morning, on the twelfth day of August, in year 1274 after the foundation of the lost city of Calradia, Zendar was burning.

Seated on an island in the middle of the mighty Zendar river, surrounded by trackless marsh and swamp, the Free City of Zendar had stood defiant against the three neighboring kingdoms of Swadia, Vaegirhold and the Nord-law for two hundred years. Protected by natural barriers, the strength of their mercantile fleet and the price of their mercenaries, the trading city had thought itself untouchable.

Ragnar of the Nords had proven them wrong. With stolen silver, the contracts of Zendar's condotieri were bought off when they were set to renew, and they were paid to disappear. With an army of slaves and thralls, the river had been diverted. With purchased pumps from Swadia, the marsh had been drained. And with torches and axes and valor, the city had been stormed.

Wealth almost beyond reckoning lay within the trading city's walls, and Ragnar of the Nords might have preferred to take the city intact, but after a two year siege, his housecarls needed the release of pillage.

To his credit there was no rapine, but that was just business. The city was empty -or nearly so. Lord Mleza of Vaegirhold had seen to it that the citizens of Zendar were permitted free passage across the dried swamp when it became clear that no amount of bravery or cunning by the defenders could stop King Ragnar's army. He was forced to pay one hundred pounds of silver to the Nord king for their ransom -a monstrous sum- but he expected to have the city's finer artisans and merchant families resettled in his own city by winter's end, and his losses were not so great compared to what he stood to gain. He and his retinue of fifty boyars armed in lamellar and bechters of mail-and-plate sat their horses on the highest of the low hillocks, observing his investment.

On what once were the eastern banks of the Zendar river, a city of tents had sprung up. The displaced and dispossessed could do nothing but watch as their city burned. Thralls with picks beat apart the anchors of the great iron chain that once spanned the river. Each link as thick as a man's leg, the chain was a barrier to all shipping to be raised and lowered at will, keeping the city safe and enforcing Zendar's monopoly on river traffic. The iron alone was worth a lord's ransom.

Swadian and Vaegir merchants had made the journey to the ruins of Zendar, thinking to sell food, horses or any manner of necessity, but they found the people penniless. Grumbling, they traded amongst each other and returned to their homelands, followed by strings of refugees.

Slavers had also come, Nord and Khergit alike, turning good trade amongst those who had no choice but to indenture themselves or their children to survive.

And finally, picking past the dead and dying like Carrion Crows, Free Companies returned to Zendar.

Captain Mercer of the Leatherskins was hunting down swamp fishers and riverine hunters for his upcoming contract with a boatmaster's guild dispute in the Nord-law. His battles had left him extravagantly scarred, and he loomed impressively over the small crowd gathered around him.

Aspara of the Bronzehearts concentrated on war's new-made widows. She and her bronze-armored captains had all been widows or runaways before their joined the ancient mercenary troupe, and their company of pikewomen and halberdiers were notorious for being expensive and bloody-minded terrors.

And finally there was Radomir, Captain of the Ironclads. His was one of the larger free companies, indeed it was an army in its own right, with ranks of foot, archers and heavy cavalry drilled to fight in compliment. He was not long from quitting the siege of Vincoud, and had held the castle for its lord against the Khergit hoard for three months, which was as long as his employer's gold had held out. When it had run dry and promises of more had grown stale, he left the castle and marched his company straight through the Khergit pickets and into the mountains. Vincoud surrendered to the golden hoard the next day.

But successful and prudent as he had been, his company had taken losses, and he was looking to recruit. Rumor had it, he was taking most anyone. The Captain sat on a small folding throne in front of a cottage door taken off its hinges, set on legs and cover with embroidered linens, and a scribe with a tremendous book perched on a stool beside him. Two plate-armored lieutenants stood flanking him with naked blades in hand, and a disinterested banner-bearer behind them leaned against his guidon.

A small crowd gathered before them.

"Next," barked Radomir.






OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=94078) new posts (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?goto=newpost&t=94078)

[Townopolis]

Gaille

Gaille wore his armor for this meeting, and carried arms and shield with him, to better impress upon the mercenary lord that he was, indeed, a fighting man, and not some peasant upstart run off from the farm his father worked.

Holding his helm in one arm, he stepped forward when the lord called, and gave a bow appropriate for a knight meeting a man of baronial rank.

"Sir Gaille du Cote, of the order of St. Gird."

He introduced himself as he rose from his bow, but waited for Radomir to continue before speaking more. He felt it was obvious, his purpose here.

[DJDeMiko]

Currently anonymous

"Next," barked Radomir.

A man in light brown leather and wrapped in a faded dark green coat steps out of the crowd suddenly, startling two men in the process who hadn't realized there had been someone standing behind them.

"Captain Radomir," the man said in a tone that was polite, but a few shades below what one would expect of a solider addressing a commanding officer. "I've been long impressed with the exploits of The Ironclads and to be quite frank, you won't find a better scout in this crowd than I."

[Adlan]

Ioan

"Next" barked Radomir.

Ioan Freieberhardt stepped forward, Over his sholder in a cloth bag hung one of his Bow's, and his profession was obvious from the heavy cloth bag full of arrows at his side.

His Armour, and other gear, was still on his mule, which stood with an ostler just a short walk away (and in sight, Ioan was not so much of country bumpkin as he had been 2 years before).

'Ioan Freieberhardt' he spoke, his voice a solid baritone, already strong and confident. 'Two Years Service as a Mounted Archer in the Baron of Paston's Retinue. 1st prize at the Mark's in Paston for the past two years.

He looked over a the scribe's writing, cocked his head to see it slatendicular so as to read it
'And I'm no Serf what can't read what he signs, to be paid at the lower rate, I am a freeman and you'll pay me the rate a Real Bowman warrants

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila

Ioan had hardly been signed up and moved past when the next hopeful came up, unannounced. She was clad in patchwork fur and leather, with ragged chainmail above that. A dark blue hat sat on her head, covering her face.

A halberd and shield were slung across her back, and there was a sword swinging at her side. She carried no other possessions, other than several flasks tied to her belt.

"Hyu iz hirink? Hy em Raxila Kaarone, a skilled varrior uf de blade und in a scratch, kan serff as a healer. Hy fought at Rohlstaff, Heroburg und Kanar's Varf. Hy'm as tough as an ox und as schtrong as a dragon's velp."

She doffs the hat and gives a small bow. Her grin is disturbingly sharp and vicious. Her skin is as green as the grass, and her purple eyes are slitted like a cat's.

"Don' be scared, Hy don' bite. Vell, not uften. Oy! Und make sure Hy'm paeed in lots uf silver, hyu got dat?"

[Krrth]

Aeryn was having a bad day. Over the course of the last few weeks, all the fun had left the city, leaving nothing but despair. Why just last night he had tried to... Next!barked Radomir
mentally chiding himself for being so unaware of his surroundings as to be caught off gaurd, he steps forward.

Greetings Lord Radomir. I am Aeryn, of no place I care to name. I am an Archer and Scout, almost since birth. I hunted on my fathers...well, that's not important now. I can bring in food, and I can find the enemy. I know the ways of Tree and Leaf, River and Stream. I also find myself almost out of coin.

*waits for a response from Radomir*

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan stepped forward, tall and proud. His beard was plaited and he had scrounged up a few bands of rough-beaten silver to adorn them with. His eyes were fierce, and he had his shield strapped over one arm, and his other weapons at his side or slung over his back. A few paces ahead of him in line he saw Raxila, and his eyes widened just a fraction, but then he shrugged and grinned. This might be more interesting than he'd thought.

Morrigan mac Morrison, of clan mac Morrison. I can fight with sword, spear, and shield, an' I've got ten years experience - two in the clan-wars, two in the Rhodok army, six in tha free companies.

Ah fight like a wild mountain wolf in a corner, and I'll spill red blood in exchange for good silver.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila strode past the recruiting table, pleased with herself, and then she heard the accent. Her heart skipped a beat, then she breathed out in relief.

No. Too koarse to be de Hedyne. But schtill, a Rhodok highlunder here...

It's been too long. Anodder Rhodok, even a puny mortal... Yah. Hy need a brodder to fight alongside. Und if ve vas to be believed, he fought like a vild volf.

Raxila turned and waited for the Highlander - Morrigan, he had said his name was. She smirked at him as he passed the table, and swung into stride with him.

"So, Morrigan, vat part uf de Rhodok Konfederacy are hyu from?"

[Snacs]

Olin Scott

"Next"

The man that sauntered up after Morrigan's turn, his lean, wiry frame distinct from many of the others. A sturdy, long Boar Spear was propped against one shoulder, the cross-hilted tip bobbing in time with his step.

He genuflected to Radomir, his shaggy-haired head lowering in deference to his Might.

"Greetings M'Lord, My name is Olin, Olin Scott. I am handy enough with a spear, and I am none too terrible with the Quill either"He said, giving the scribe a slow grin.

"Of course, what kind of bond may be forged without trust?"He said, and calmly slid his right bracer down a few inches. Revealed to the Captain,his guard, and the scribe were twisting black symbols, which were so complex and twisted they seemed to move on their own...

While the rest of the crowd behind them would see nothing,blocked by his arm, the would certainly notice the way the scribe's eyes turned away,and he quickly motioned with his hands in the symbol to avert Evil.

Olin gave credit, as the soldiers guarding him barely blinked, other than to tense in case he drew a blade.

"And so i give you my trust, Radomir of the Ironclads. May the spirits bless your endeavors"He pushed the bracer back up and gave a small, polite bow, ambling to the side to let the line continue...

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Character sheet for future reference:

Heinrich Schutzbar, Knight of Swadia

Background: Born into the minor nobility of knighthood, Heinrich's future profession was sealed at birth. He was brought up in the world of chivalry, warfare and courtly life as expected of a young noble. Most of his teenage years were either spent in the court of the Lords serving their needs but at the same time learning from them the skills he would need later in life. He learned the laws of the land, proper etiquette, a dabbling of philosophy and religion, just what any young man and future lord would need. More importantly, he learned how to make war. Not only personal combat and the riding of horses but how to command men and wage war against the enemies of Swadia.

Though the halls of Praven provided him with his education and made Heinrich the man he is, he knew that he would have to set off on his own to gain true power and fame. With his horse and equipment on hand he set out to join one of the Free Corps roaming the land to make a name for himself.

Personality: He possesses the haughty, aloof and sometimes overbearing mentality of a noble. Heinrich is a man who is deeply driven by his own lust for power and seeking to prove himself to King and country.

Appearance: Owing the benefits of a noble life, notably good food, more hygenic and sanitary conditions as well as access to better medicine, Heinrich is tall compared to the average person standing at 6 feet. He is clean shaven and has brown hair that is cut short so as to deny the enemy a handhold in combat.

Combat Style: Heinrich prefers to fight like a Knight on horseback. Using a poleaxe to charge the enemy ranks and rend infantry to shreds as his shield protects him from arrows and bolts. If he is unable to charge the enemy or is caught in the midst of a horde of lessers he will draw his sword to cut his foes down from his horse as the might creature stomps and bites those who gets in the way.

Equipment:

Armor:

Chainmail armor
Chainmail gloves
Chainmail coif
Heavy leather boots

Weapons:
Longsword
Heraldic Shield
Poleaxe

Other equipment:
War horse
Supply horse

Standard equipment: i.e. extra clothing, bedding, tent, utensils.


IC:

"Next" came the shout.

Heinrich stepped forward, dressed in his courtly clothes with a red cloak hanging from his neck, his longsword was at his hip. Looking at the assembled guards and the captain he proudly proclaimed "Heinrich Schutzbar, proud knight of House Schutzbar! At your service!"

[Destichado]

Radomir sat back as far as his blued plate and and folding field chair would allow and watched the applicants pass by the table. He took an enameled copper chalice of chilled wine from a half-grown page and sipped while he listened. At intervals he would call out prices, "three denars, half grossa, one grossa three," and the like. These were dutifully scriven in the long-leafed book by the accountant, who pinched the hinge of his horn and quartz glasses tighter against his nose.

At length, the captain held up his hand and stopped the line. "I've heard enough. Osgood, march them to the camp. If they can keep the pace they can stay. We'll send any latecomers on as they come." With that, he gathered his cape and sprang up, tossing the goblet carelessly to a lieutenant, and walked off. The lieutenants glanced at each other and followed. One tossed the chalice to the clerk.

"Osgood" ducked out of a painted tent and strode in front of the newcomers. Well over seven feet tall and easily thirty stone, he was a mountain of a man in plate and quilted cloth, bristling with the hilts and scabbards of half a dozen weapons.

"Form two lines, please" he said easily, gesturing with the long haft of an outsized nord axe he was using as a cane.

"If you have a horse, use it. Otherwise you'll have to carry your possessions, and you'll still be expected to keep up." He brushed away a large fly displaced by the drained swamp, and went on. "The camp is only a mile away. If you can make it that far with all your belongings, you can march with the Ironclads."

With that he turned about and marched off, amusing himself by flipping and catching the massive, gleaming axe from hand to hand with every other step.

[Townopolis]

Gaille

Gaille hurried to his horses and took the reigns of both before finding a place in one of the lines, somewhere near the back.

He fell into step with the rest of the recruits, marching on foot and leading both horses behind him. As they marched, he quietly observed the other recruits, and the man called Osgood. He measured them up and down, took in what they wore and carried. Clothing, armor, and armament were noted and added to his growing impressions of those around him. He did this quietly, wordlessly mulling over his new companions unless someone should strike up conversation with him.

[Adlan]

Ioan

Ioan led Hund, his mule, by the halter as he walked in the ranks. He Glanced at those around him, trying not to look like a country bumpkin.

About him in the ranks, those nearest him, A very tall man, a knight or lord by his bearing, and the quality of his arms and armour, leading two very fine horses and loaded with weaponry of all description.

Almost Unoticed next to the lordly fellow, keeping pace was a chap that Ioan would have had difficulty describing to you if you'd asked him five minutes after seeing him.

Another Bowman walked in the ranks, but the bow he carried was not of the same vein as Ioan's, it was a work of skill and artistry, much embellished, as a fine sword would be, rather than the plainness of a tool that marked Ioan's. His personal appearance was of the same quality as his equipment, and his finely groomed hair and beared gave him a dignity and bearing akin to that of the knights, though he walked with all his equipment on his back.
In Fine, very fine clothes, the cost of which could of kept Ioan fed well for months, another marched, but with a good warhorse, and a fighting man's countenance.

In Contrast to the wellgroomed beard of the other archer, one of the fellows close by had a bush Ioan would of describe as Bramble full, twisted and plaited and bound with silver, gave the warrior, for Ioan was quite sure warrior was the correct term, a fearsome look, combined with the dress he had though was only a traveller's yarn, about Rhodok menfolk wearing skirts. Ioan had heared of the prowess of their fighting though, and would not make any jokes, he promised himself.

As Ioan thought that, Hund, as if he had read his mind, snorted an assent, seeming to say 'Make sure you don't'.

Another in the ranks, and Ioan again tried not to look shocked, was a woman, almost as broad as he was, and taller for certain, dressed in furs like a nord barbarian from the hinterlands, or what stories said a Kergit warrior wore. Her green complexion and sharp toothed smile made her even more outlandish, and Ioan wondered if she was one of the fabeled amazon's of story, or just a woman who took up arms. He knew the world was vast, and he had come expecting adventure and exotic's. He was just a little shocked to find it so soon, only a few provinces from his home, which had seemed so quiet.

However, at least all of these were normal, the last man Ioan could see close in ranks unerved him. He had seen the sign of the Evil eye the Clerk had made when shown.... Something, and certainly the fellow seemed to project something otherworldly.

Ioan shrugged away the feeling. They'd all be members of the same free company, so he should learn to get used to the strangeness of everything.
'This is a Rum Old do.'
He murmered quietly to Hund the mule more than that anyoneelse.

He could see up an down the line, most were quiet, but some where talking, and it would pass the short walk faster than trudging in silence. He did not let the fact that he was the youngest deter him either, and although he didn't want to admit ignorance, he had some questions.
'I am Ioan Freieberhart, At your Service,' he said, out of defferance and politeness.
'Is the Normal way a Free company recruits?'

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

He kept pace easily, in part due to his very light load. A minor misunderstanding only a few weeks back had forced him to leave his horse and its saddlebags stuffed with ill-gotten goods behind. It wasn't the first time that such an incident had occurred, however, and he had long learned to always keep his weapons and a light traveling pack close.

As he walked he carefully surveyed the other men and listened in on their conversations. He had definitely chosen well. Among the ranks of a green skinned woman, an archer who can scare a learned man into making a warding gesture and so on, no one would pay a simple man with a short sword much notice.

Ahead of him some of the other recruits began to talk. He moved closer to listen.

'I am Ioan Freieberhart, At your Service,' a very young man said, 'Is this the Normal way a Free company recruits?'

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan eased into a swift, loping pace that ate away the distance, keeping up easily with the others. He'd done much worse than this, and in worse conditions. It seemed too easy, really - either this band was desperate for cannon fodder, or else there was more to this than met the eye.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila snorted derisively. A mile? No, to really give these boys a challenge they'd need to run at least two leagues. With rocks in their packs. Oh, that'd be so much fun! Perhaps she could convince that rugged highlander Morrigan and that knight Gaille to join in, too!

Her sharp, elfin ears perked up as she heard that young archer - Ioun, or something like that - try to start up a conversation. Well, if they weren't going to do any serious excercise, maybe a conversation could pass the time. She slowed her long stride and waited until Ian came closer.

As he passed her, she matched his stride and grinned at him.

"No, dis hain'tink. Usually, hyu hef keep up a nize brisk pace instead uf dis veak schtraggler's valk. Dey iz desperate, or so Hy em tinkink. Chin up! Hyu iz lucky hyu gets to be in a Free Komphenny - dey iz a lot hersher most uf de time.

Hyu ever been in a real scrap, boy?"

Instead of waiting for an answer, she looks up and yells, "Hey, Gialle! Knight guy, kome join us! Hyu too, highlunder!"

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan moved up with long, fluid strides, matching the fae-thing stride for stride. He eyed her speculatively, but held his tongue, at least for know. After all, even things like her had to eat, he supposed. Besides, she wasn't bad looking. Oh aye, this is nothin' at all. I'm fer thinkin' that they're either tryin' ta' fool us, an' this isn't the real test, or else their company gone an' lost itself a whole heap o' men and they just need some warm bodies ta' fill in tha ranks.

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Mounting his steed, Heinrich ties the reins of the nearby draft horse to his own saddle. The draft horse is loaded down with the knight's armor and other possessions.

Taking position in the group he goads his horses into pace with the rest of the unit. No need to exert them at this time. There would probably be alot of travelling in the next few days. Idly he listened to the other new recruits as they talked amongst themselves.

[Krrth]

Aeryn prepared to move out. Grabbing his gear on the way out of the tent, he winced a little at the weight.
I may have to dump the tent he thought to himself.

Ah well, it's only a mile. I can do that.

With that, he fell into line. He quickly ran into problems, being unused to marching in line. Great. I can't even lope.

' he said, out of deference and politeness.
'Is the Normal way a Free company recruits?'

'I am Ioan Freieberhart, At your Service, a young man beside him said. 'Is this the Normal way a Free company recruits?

Looking over at Raxilas response, he started a bit when he saw her.

You're a little way from home, aren't you? No matter, I'm sure well get along just fine.

Turning to Ioan I'm not sure, but this doesn't seem right. I imagine he's going to run tests and weed out those of us he deems unfit. So....archer I see. Any other skills?

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

Quietly and unobtrusively, he follows and listens. He does this out of habit more than any particular feelings towards the other men in line.

[Adlan]

Ioan was glad his Mule, Hund was carrying everything heavy, leaving his own march a swift and tiring pace, but not impossible.

"Hyu ever been in a real scrap, boy?" Asked the female fighter, flashing her rather unsettelling grin.

"Aye, one short campaign, the Baron of Paston had a little disagreement with his neighbour. Only one real battle to speak of, almost rode under by a charge of knights and men at arms"
Ioan shrugged away the memory, the image of a proud charge, pennants flying, comming straight towards you, is an unsetteling one, even with the memory of shooting it down, and seeing those that make it to the line battered back by your own dismounted knights and men at arms, and yourself and your comrade's, with Sword, and Axe and Hammer.

"Never been in a Free Company though, the Duke his self ordered the Baron's forces reduced as a punishment, or so the rumour ran, so I thought I'd try my hand at a Freecompany"

Ioan could see the encampment more clearly, across the flat drained marshland. He'd be glad when the quick pace of this marsh slackened, and he could take some of the weight off of Hund, who was complaining under the load.

"I'm not sure, but this doesn't seem right. I imagine he's going to run tests and weed out those of us he deems unfit. So....archer I see. Any other skills?" Said the other Archer, Ioan turned to him, again, inspecting his finely made equipment.

"I can Fletch, and in a pinch, I can do as a bowyer, But other than that, I don't suppose I have much other martial prowess.

"What of you? where do you hail from? Your Bow is made with care, as a sword is.

They Neared the Camp, and Ioan hoped there would be a chance to eat and rest, but he doubted it.

[Destichado]

The Ironclads' camp lay on the southern slope of a long, low hill. Sharpened pickets had been driven into the sod around two thirds of the concentrated, organic sprawl of colored tents as a barrier to cavalry charge. Heavy, slab-sided war wagons with arrow loops and iron-shod wheels were chained end to end around the far side of the camp, completing the circuit. Halberdiers and crossbowmen stood guard inside the wagons or behind door-like siege pavises brightly painted with scenes of black-armored warriors defeating enemies and garishly inventive beasts.

Nearly every tent had a carefully banked fire before it. Half of those had a cookpot above, or an iron spit. Somewhere a pair of hammers clanged out a rhythm on an anvil. Sheaves of spears, halberds and glaives were propped up at intervals.

Mud was everywhere. Roughly-split planks were laid about for boardwalks, and women, camp followers rather than soldiers, walked about with their sleeves rolled up and their longs skirts gathered above their boot-tops to keep them out of the mud. Shrill and inventive curses announced where someone had tracked mud onto the planks.

Osgood stopped and turned to face the column of recruits.
"This is home," he said. "If you're here, you're an Ironclad. If you can keep up, fight hard and survive, you can stay one.

"Leave your horses with the horsemaster and set up your tent if you have one, or pay a boy to have it done if you like. If you don't have one, make friends with someone who does, or sleep under the wagons. The first night is yours, no duties. There's food in the slop tent, you won't starve if you don't have your own, though you might wish you had. Or if you've the coin for it you can buy a meal from one of the wives. There's small beer in the tent with the ivy leaves, and there's women too if you've a mind for them. Get to know the camp and the rest of the company while you can, for as soon as the Captain is through here we're due to march, and you lot are like to be a damn site busy then."

And with that, the giant grinned, waved them in and promptly walked off in the direction of the smithy.

[Krrth]

"I can Fletch, and in a pinch, I can do as a bowyer, But other than that, I don't suppose I have much other martial prowess.

"What of you? where do you hail from? Your Bow is made with care, as a sword is.
Me? I'm from up north. I'm a hunter and tracker.
*pauses*

If we're going to march like that, I'm going to have to lighten the load a little. Ioan, was it? I don't suppose you need a tent to sleep in, do you?

[Adlan]

I don't suppose you need a tent to sleep in, do you?

'Aye, I'd gladly share, Hund won't mind carrying the extra, he's been underloaded ever since he stopped carrying grain to market.

At this the Mule snorted, again, giving the appearance of intelligence, A heavy tent on my back? Just so you can sleep easier? Bah!.

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Jumping off his horse, the Swadian made sure to avoid the thick mud that was covering most of the ground. He did not want to spend his time cleaning the mud and gunk off his boots. Bringing the two horses to the horsemaster he looks around before shouting to no one in particular.

"A silver denar to the first person who can unpack my horse and set up the tent!"

[Adlan]

Ioan and Aeryn soon had found a dry patch of ground in a halfway dry spot, and were setting up the tent. Ioan Unloaded Hund, and lead him to the horsemaster, before returning to help Aeryn assembled the tent.

'Where I'm from, we like to say there are no archer's who can shoot stronger or faster than a Paston man, I can't account for accuracy, but I'm accounted a fair shot among my folk's, mayhap you'd like a friendly competition some time?

As Ioan packed away his small amount of gear, leaving most of it still in the bags it was carried on Hund, the conversation continued.

'So what part of the north? and What bring's you here? Have you served in a freecompany before?

[Krrth]

Just a small kingdom to the north. I doubt you've ever been to it...they don't encourage vistors much. Or at all. AS to why I'm here...let's just say it became very clear to me that I would never live long enough to inherit, so I decided to make my way in the world.
*pause*
We can have a contest some time. I'd wait for us to get settled in first, though. I've never been in a free company before, but based on what I know....be prepared to ah...."establish" you place in the pecking order.

[Townopolis]

Gaille

When they reached the camp, Gaille found the rest more than welcome, and leaned on Bella to catch some breath. When he pulled himself upright and supporting his own weight again, he patted the percheron and looked about for the horsemaster. Finding him, he brought his horses over.

"Take care of the warhorse, hear, she's no pack animal, and we'll be relying on her in battle... If you need extra coin for that, that's fine."

He looked the horsemaster and his crew over as he handed off the reigns, noting their faces and judging the quality of their work for himself. Then, taking Gambler's saddlebags, he went out into the camp to hunt down someone with a tent. Much to his chagrin, he had never thought to acquire one of his own.

Spotting a lone recruit with a tent, Gaille shouldered his bags and strode up to him.

"Good day, fellow. Would you like some aid getting that pitched?"

He smiled, putting his best foot forward and hoping his demeanor and the quality of his gear would impress the other recruit enough to land him a dry, or at least drier, place to sleep.

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan, a bit winded from the run, found a bit of ground out of the way to sit down for a piece, relatively dry at that. He had a little silver in his pocket, but not much. Still, he had his ways of earning money. Catching his breath for a moment, he caught sight of Raxila and sauntered over to her, a sly grin on his face.

By my father's beard, I'd never thought I'd see one o' your folk in tha flesh, much less out o' the home country. Still, yer folk are supposed to be fierce enough in a fight, so I suppose this is as likely a place as any fer ye ta be.

[LongVin]

OOC: Lordsmoothe is Gaille talking to Heinrich or someone else with a tent?

[Raz_Fox]

Morrigan

Morrigan, a bit winded from the run, found a bit of ground out of the way to sit down for a piece, relatively dry at that. He had a little silver in his pocket, but not much. Still, he had his ways of earning money. Catching his breath for a moment, he caught sight of Raxila and sauntered over to her, a sly grin on his face.

By my father's beard, I'd never thought I'd see one o' your folk in tha flesh, much less out o' the home country. Still, yer folk are supposed to be fierce enough in a fight, so I suppose this is as likely a place as any fer ye ta be.

"Aye, highlunder - Morrigan, hyu saeed you name vas? Hyu're a lucky vun, sure enough. It's nize to see zumone vo recognizes vat Hy em, und nizer schtill to see a Rhodok-bred lad. Not gunna schtrike me down for beink a fey vitch, are ye?"

She gives him a sharp grin and winks. Then she gestures over to the ivy-coated tent.

"Mortal ale iz piss-veak, but it's betta ten noddink. Hyu veesh to go hef a drink or tree?"

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan gave a hearty laugh, picking up his kit and following the fae into the tent, nodding Aye, most of it's nae good fer anything but spillin' in a bar fight, but enough of it'll get ye drunk, though ye may have ta' drown in it first. Me Gram made a foine enough drop, though. Good strong Highland whiskey. One o' the things I miss most out a' home.

He sighed, then grinned even wider, his eyes sparkling

Yer' not fer plannin te work some mischief on me now, are ye? Me own dear mother always warned me about fae lasses and the enchantments they work on strappin' young lads in their cups. They do say more 'n one fella's woken up from such an encounter in tha altogether, missin' all o' their earthly goods and with a beard down to their belly, an' with none o' the pleasant memories that make such a wakin' worth while.

[Raz_Fox]

"Sadly, de only magic Hy hef plenty uf iz de herbcraft. Hy kould make hyu go to schleep for a day or so, but not a hundred years. Dat's real power, und Hy hef as much chance uf seeink dat as most folk hef uf seeink a fey. Hyu'd need a sorceress or, Bane forbeed, a dragon for dat kinda vitchcraft.

Und as for you mamma's viskey, Hy'd giff hennyddink to hef zum nize Rhodok viskey right now. If hyu mention it again viddout hevink henny in you possession, Hy'll hef to hit hyu.

Kome on, let's go see vat drinks dey's got."

And with that, Raxila strides off towards the ivy-covered tent, one arm across Morrigan's shoulders.

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

One habit that the road has taught him is to always be aware of his surroundings. Upon reaching the camp he moves casually through the camp, taking a mental inventory of items of value, looking for possible escape roots and scanning the men's faces.

[Snacs]

Olin Scott

Puffing out a long, relieved burst of air Olin gratefully crossed the last few feet into the company's massive encampment. The distance itself had not phased him too much, his lean frame able to keep up an easy, loping gait that ate up the miles. It had been the pace that the elder mercenaries had set that was grueling, and he arrived with the others eager to roll up in his cloak and sleep.

He felt a soft along trickle along his lower back, like ice water and chuckled softly to himself as he felt something small and wet nuzzled at his neck. he glanced around, seeing no one paying particular attention to him, and reached up, giving the small sprite clinging to a lock of his hair a quick pat.

The tiny creature was roughly humanoid, though it was translucent, its coloring that of half-frozen water. It had wide,deep eyes, no nose, and a small slit for a mouth, and from the top of its head water flowed out and down its back.

It was the first ever spirit he had bonded with, the tiny, half-frozen sprite that had made its home in his family's well. It wasn't particularly smart, or strong, but it was important to him, and he never wanted for water with it.

He smiled as it capered about his shoulders, peering around the camp with interest, and he glanced around with eyes he knew few, if any in the camp, possessed.

The camp was bustling,and in between legs and lurking in the shadows of tents were Brownies and Sprites that made their lives on the outskirts of the mortal races. He saw the spirits of weapons peering at him around the hafts of halberds and the rims of shields, and their gleaming eyes in the burnished reflection of helms.

He shook his head, too tired to explore and get familiar with them. He was an Ironclad now. The times for that would be many. For now he had to find a tent to sleep in, and a bucket to slew off the grime from the trail.

He took his time sauntering through the tent camp, and smiled as he stopped at one, seemingly at random. He crouched down, seeing a bright,industrious Brownie at work brushing mud off of one of the tents. he reached to a pouch on his belt, and offered up a portion of one of his trial ration's to the knee-high spirit.

It was decided. He would stay at this tent. He looked up, wondering whose it was in the first place, and to ask if he could stay. If the Brownie that worked so earnestly were proof, he knew he wouldn't be turned away.


[OOC: Whoever wants to be said tent's owner, feel free, if not DM's choice or NPC will be fine(though I'd prefer a player)]

[Adlan]

Lordsmoothe, I'll play it as if you asked Ioan and Aeryn, makes the Rp tighter knit.

Ioan and Aeryn were pitching the last few pegs and ropes of the tent when up walked the lordly looking man with the fine quality gear from the march.

"Good day, fellow. Would you like some aid getting that pitched?"

Ioan turned to Aeryn, as if to say Room for three? and back to the knight.
'What can I do for you good sir? We're just about finished in pitching the tent.

[Krrth]

*looking up at the voice*

I'm sorry, what? I was jus...

*eyes narrow slightly, then go back to normal*

Greetings. I imagine you're looking for a tent to sleep in? It will be a tight fit, but you are more than welcome to join us. After all, we have to stick together, don't we.

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan laughed and winked broadly at the fey-lass, grinning as he laced his arm around her shoulder like they were old comrades Aye, that's well enough. I've nothin' against magic, such as it goes, but such things are better left to those 'as understan' em'. With one hand , Morrigan brushed aside the entrance to the tent, looking to see what the night would hold.

[Destichado]

"A silver denar to the first person who can unpack my horse and set up the tent!"

Heinrich discovered that his first person was a tall, buxom soldier's wife with a disconcertingly large knife hanging from her belt.
"Half a day's pay for setting up a tent?" she asked without the slightest trace of deference, "You've a deal, m'lord."

With that she yelled for her children and threw the tent bundle over her shoulder with ease. With them, she set the center pole and hung the tentcloth, while her boy and little girl worked together pulling the slack out of the guy-ropes and drove stakes The tent was set inside ten minutes, and the children ferried bundles, boxes and baskets from the sumpter horse while the mother pulled the ropes taut on their stakes.

"Shush, run on to Jovanna now," said the camp follower, shooing her children off. When they were gone she straightened up, business-like. "I'll have that denar now, m'lord."




***



"Good day, fellow. Would you like some aid getting that pitched?"

The young man turned and set down the basket he was carrying. On top was an antique peaked helmet marked with dozens of scars half polished away and a patch riveted to hold the nasal in place. Inside, a patchwork maille shirt. A horseman by the weapons and armor lying about, he was obviously gently born, and just as obviously poor. He coughed and worked his mouth before speaking.

"Petros Meryovic, sir," he said, touching a lock of his hair in greeting, and naming himself as a Vaegir. "Yes, if you are not too well born to do it, I would welcome the help."




***



Inside the tall tent marked with the ivy wreaths was a long table and low benches half-filled with men and women draining a mug. When they finished, most got up and walked out, leaving their wood or clay cups on the table to be snatched up by a girl young enough to run around with her hair uncovered. She quickly wiped them out with a wet rag and took them to a pegged cupboard at the far end.

A round-looking man of middle years puttered around the back of a wagon at the open far end of the tent, looking over barrels and amphorae. There was an open half-barrel of frothing mash with an oar sitting in it, which he occasionally stirred. Seeing Morrigan and Raxila at the entrance, he bustled across to his daughter and sent her scurrying to greet the new recruits and new customers with a halfhearted swat.

"If ye be come well, ye be well come, be ye welcome." The little girl recited the greeting from memory, without really understanding the meaning of the old wordplay.

"Beer is a quarterpenny a cup," she went on, "And soldiers have to add water on duty, and daddy-- umm, the brewmaster has other things in the wagon, but you have to ask him."

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrgain chuckled, reaching out and placing a penny in the girl's hand in thanks for the tip. Smiling, he approached the brewmaster, a glint in his eye. Evenin' friend. Me companion and meself have just been on a bit o' a stroll, and we've worked up a good thirst. Might ye be havin' anythin' in yer wagon a bit more potent than beer? Whiskey fer' a preference, and Rhodok if'n ye've got it.

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

After taking stock of the camp, he decided it was time to relax. No one would find him hear, at least not for awhile.

He had heard the soldiers mention the tent, one marked with ivory wreaths, as a place to stop for a drink.

"A drink would do quite well," he murmured to himself and headed back towards where he had seen the tent.

He entered in time to see a girl speaking to two of the new recruits he had seen before. The northerners, both seemed to be soldiers. The man had a plaited beard and the woman was an Orc, or at least looked like like the stories he had heard of Orcs, but less fierce. Perhaps the stories, like most stories, had been exaggerated, or perhaps the female of the species was just smaller and less fierce.

"Beer is a quarterpenny a cup," he heard the girl say, "And soldiers have to add water on duty, and daddy-- umm, the brewmaster has other things in the wagon, but you have to ask him."

[LongVin]

Heinrich

The Knight watches the woman and the pair of children go to work on unpacking and assembling. Intently he stared, partially amazed at how quickly they operated and also making sure that their greedy little fingers did not take anything that did not belong to them.

"I'll have that denar now, m'lord."

Heinrich nodded, he had no need to check the tent to make sure it was assembled properly. The trio had done this many times before and will no doubt do it hundreds of times again. Opening up the coin purse he produced a shiny silver denar piece and handed it over to the camp follower "A fine job. When the company is ready to pack up and move, I will look for you."

[Destichado]

"Evenin' friend. Me companion and meself have just been on a bit o' a stroll, and we've worked up a good thirst. Might ye be havin' anythin' in yer wagon a bit more potent than beer? Whiskey fer' a preference, and Rhodok if'n ye've got it."


The brewmaster blinked.

"I, I have a full case of jenever, and frozen cider that I get through local sources, and there is rakija from Reyvadin if you can stomach it, but," he eyed the new recruits speculatively, "forgive me, but I doubt you have the coin for Rhodok grappa."

He leaned closer and whispered urgently, "It would be a fourth your day's wage for a glass!" He wrung his hands in his apron in distress and said, apologetically, "It has to come half way across Calradia to get here, you understand. I can't just give it away."

The Brewmaster looked past the hulking rhodok and blinked again at the quiet man standing almost beside him.

"Oh! I didn't see you there. Forgive me, be seated, be seated. What can I get you? Beer?"

[Raz_Fox]

"Evenin' friend. Me companion and meself have just been on a bit o' a stroll, and we've worked up a good thirst. Might ye be havin' anythin' in yer wagon a bit more potent than beer? Whiskey fer' a preference, and Rhodok if'n ye've got it."


The brewmaster blinked.

"I, I have a full case of jenever, and frozen cider that I get through local sources, and there is rakija from Reyvadin if you can stomach it, but," he eyed the new recruits speculatively, "forgive me, but I doubt you have the coin for Rhodok grappa."

He leaned closer and whispered urgently, "It would be a fourth your day's wage for a glass!" He wrung his hands in his apron in distress and said, apologetically, "It has to come half way across Calradia to get here, you understand. I can't just give it away."

The Brewmaster looked past the hulking rhodok and blinked again at the quiet man standing almost beside him.

"Oh! I didn't see you there. Forgive me, be seated, be seated. What can I get you? Beer?"

Raxila gives him what must be a grin, for all of her fangs are showing. She pulls one of her hide bottles from her belt and gives it a shake.

"Vell, how about a trade? Hy'll pour hyu zum real Fey drink from my bottle here, und ifin it's to you likink hyu'll giff us zum Rhodok viskey - ve hefn' hed de true schtuff in ages! Chust be kareful - it's a bit schtrong."

She spots the quiet one, and yells in his general direction, "Hey, hyu! Qviet vun! Kome und join us - ve'll pay for you first drink."

[Destichado]

At that the Brewmaster rocked back on his heels, deciding whether or not to be insulted or intimidated. He scowled in thought, puffing his jowls, and snatched the leather costrel from Raxila's hand. Pulling the wooden stopper, he sniffed.

"Phew!" he exclaimed, eyes watering, and stoppered the leather bottle. He thrust it back at her. "Almost pure aqua vitae! I can't serve that! Take it to the apothecary, he might know what to do with spirits like that."

The brewmaster turned back to his mash, stirring the oar to keep sediment from forming. "Fey brew indeed," he muttered to himself.

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Making sure that everything was squared away properly in his tent, Heinrich wandered around the camp being sure to watch where he steps so as not to soil his boots.

Coming upon the tavern wagon, he decided it was as good as a time as any to get something to drink. Entering the makeshift tavern, he heads directly towards the bar and announces "Barkeep, I'll have a glass of Swadian wine."

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan grinned broadly, pulling out a deck of cards and a pair of dice from a small leather pouch on his belt. What say you to laying it on a turn of the die? If you win, I'll be givin' ya this he said, plucking a coin-pouch full of silver coins from his belt and setting it on the table. And if you win, I'll be gettin' the bottle?

[Destichado]

The Brewmaster looked hard at the dice and the bag of coins.

"No, no, I couldn't," he said. But he did not stop looking at the coins.
"Oh, chalice," he muttered. "Fine and well enough. One roll for each of us."

They cast their dice and the brewmaster moaned as if stricken.

"Curse me for a fool," he wailed. "Thirty denars lost on a roll of the dice! Take it, take it," he said, waiving the offending bottle. But before the Rhodok highlander could reach, the brewmaster snatched it back and took a burning drink himself before surrendering the bottle.

"Oh," he shook his head sadly and turned away. "When my wife hears of this..."

He pulled a wooden bung from the neck of an amphora and decanted thick red wine into a glazed ceramic goblet. His daughter served it to the knight, wide-eyed and staring at his finery.

[LongVin]

*****EDITED**** New post coming.

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan grinned gleefully, taking the bottle with good graces. Still smirking, he counted out fifteen silver Dinars, accounting for a good portion of his pouch. Somethin' fer yer trouble, me good man, and perhaps that'll keep yer wife from chewin' ya a new one altogether.

With that he turned, returning to the table and setting up shots for himself and Raxila, and offering one to the newcomer as well.

[LongVin]

Heinrich

About time, Heinrich nodded and pushed some coin towards the girl. Lifting the glass to his nose he inhaled the aroma before taking a tentative sip. It was hardly the wine that would be served in the Praven Royal Court but it wasn't horrible, he had worse and he had better, it would do though. Looking around the room, he raises his glass in toast to the others present as courtesy would dictate.

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

The bearded northern offers him a drink.

"Thank you my good man," he says. Luck must be on your side tonight. Let us toast that it stays that way eh."

[Townopolis]

Gaille

"Petros Meryovic, sir," he said, touching a lock of his hair in greeting, and naming himself as a Vaegir. "Yes, if you are not too well born to do it, I would welcome the help."
Gaille smiled cheerfully and bent slightly at the waist in a half-bow.

"Any man who thinks himself too high born to pitch a tent should have stayed at the manor. No, I'm a soldier now, just like you, and I can do an honest soldier's work just as anyone else. Now, you know a place where the mud won't soak through?"

Gaille scanned the camp for a good location, keeping up with Petros should the Vaegir have a place in mind, or pointing out and heading for a place of his own choosing.

"I am Gaille du Cote, of the order of St. Gird. If you're cavalry, as you look to be, stick with me and we'll see many successful campaigns."

When they find and come to a good spot to pitch the tent, Gaille seeks out a place to hang or place his saddlebags where they won't get covered with mud and sets about the pitching of the tent.

[Krrth]

Once we get this tent set, what do you say about going to the Ale House? It would give us a chance to meet some of our fellows.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila sniffs at her drink, savoring the scent and faintly grinning.

Then she gulps down the entire cup.

"Ho yah! Dis iz de goot schtuff, alright! Beautiful!"

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan matched her shot, then poured them each another, nodding in agreement Aye... there''s nothin' like a little taste o' home, particularly when yer' far from it.

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

He throws back his drink, gags and coughs. Through watering he says "Now I am starting to see what makes you northerners so tough." He places the cup down to be refilled.

[Adlan]

Once we get this tent set, what do you say about going to the Ale House? It would give us a chance to meet some of our fellows.
Said Aeryn, as the finished sorting everything out, doing their best to ensure no mud, or wet, would enter the tent.

'Suits me well enough, I could do with a drink, I'm half parched, what of you friend?
Ioan Asked, turning to the latest tent mate.

[Snacs]

Olin Scott

"I'd be delighted"he said quite politely as he straightened, brushing a few crumbs casually off his hands.

He raised an eyebrow at his other tent-mate curiously at that cryptic sentence, but only gave a small, easy smile.

"Indeed, now, let's celebrate. We are Ironclads now, are we not?" He gave a broad grin this time, nodding in agreement with Aeryn.

He trailed a step or two behind the pair, and gestured with his hand. Two small tattoos on his left forearm warmed, and two small imps appeared.

The left one was short and rotund, the dull color of canvas. As it breathed its whole body expanded and shrunk like a small bellows. It gave Olin a rakish, lazy salute, and trundled into the tent to get to work. By the time his new campfellows would stumble back drunk they'd find the air inside warm and comfortable.

The other was thin and a tad taller, though it still stood only a hand's height tall. It bowed like a Lord's manservant, its head wreathed in candle flames like an old man's balding dome. It started circling the tent in a clockwise motion, its feet heating the ground, drying it. No mud either.

It was a casual use of his powers, but his new friends were offering him a place to sleep.

It's the least I could do He told himself with a smile as he followed the pair towards the 'alehouse'.

[Krrth]

*glancing back at the tent*
I imagine it will be fine. I just hope neither of you snore.

*sighs, moves his hair just enough to show his ears for a moment*

I don't care for ale myself, but this will be a good chance for us to meet those we are going to be depending on for our lives....and for them to meet us.

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Refilling the stranger's glass before slamming down his own once more, Morrigan laughed broadly. Ach, 'tis no great thing. Me dear ol' mam used ta use this stuff fer quieten' us we ones when we were bein' too brash after bedtime. Works a charm, o'course. Could say it's our second mother's milk.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila

Raxila laughs with Morrigan, her own a bit harsher and more bestial. She pats the bottles on her belt. "He! Hyu tink dis iz schtrong? If Hy giff hyu de real schtrong schtuff, hyu might chust kollapse!"

She turns to Morrigan and raises her glass to salute him. "Dis iz simply divine, tough. Sveeter und betta-tastink ten Jarnbrew, even tough it lacks de right kick to it."

She looks up and sees Olin, Aeryn and Ioan coming through the door and gives a roaring greeting. "K'mon in und take a seat! Dere's enough beer back dere for hall, und enough time dis night to drink our fill!"

[Adlan]

(RL: Ioan missed the bit of the ear's flashing, though most of the time he's quite good at seeing things out of the ordinary)

Ioan
Ioan had on his set of good travelling clothes. Good thick hose of Hodden grey, a Fine, but Worn Linen shirt. His Broad shoulders were covered by another thick wool cloak, gathered with a silver throat broach, and his Pocket was fine tooled leather, and his Belt Knife a fine Bollock Dagger (http://www.interknife.co.uk/shopping/thebollockdagger.html) made simply, but well.

When he was hailed by the rather loud and brash Green skinned lady, he grinned back at her.

Adventure, the Exotic.... Ale.... this is more like it.

'Come on Aeyrn, lets get a pint and join them. He cheerfully slapped the slighter Archer, and strode over. Calling the rather young barmaid, and asking for a Pint of the house's brew.

'Good day, I am Ioan Frieberhardt, at your service. he said, as he sat at their table.

When the Young maid brought him his beer, he paid for it, and gave her an extra farthing, with a smile, and ruffeled her hair.

'Ah, kid's. I like Kid's, my kith and kin are numerous enough that I've lost count of those that can call me uncle'

He took a pull of his drink, and smacked his lips.

Well, It could be worse, at least the beer isn't watered down

He took another pull, and placed the tankered back down.
I thank you for inviting me to your table. I am, as I said, Ioan, this is Aeryn, and Olin. He said, indicating his companions in turn.

[Krrth]

Greetings all.

[Snacs]

Olin Scott

"Olin, a pleasure"He said with a slightly distanced smile. It had been a while since he had spent any time among groups of people, and the green-skinned woman's cheerful shout made his ears ring.

That and the fact that the two already drinking seemed fit to empty the company's stock of Drink on their first day didn't hurt either.

He smiled at the young lass and ordered a drink as well, paying her with ancient, if still good money from a pouch at his belt.
Little scamp even bit at the metal to make sure it was good. He thought idly.

Still, she didn't spill a drop,and his mug came foaming and full to the brim. He gave her another smile. Beneath the cheap tables they had seated themselves at he gestured, and the spirit sitting above the brewmaster's Tap sat up drunkenly, its own tiny mug overflowing with Ale. It yawned and banged its mug on the Keg in understanding. The brewmaster and his Get were alright, and worthy of his blessings.

"Spirits bless ya Girl and good fortune on you and yours, now make sure I get another when I'm empty"He paid her for the second glass in advance, and leaned back in his chair, observing the other patrons idly as he drank his first round of alcohol in quite a while....

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

As the new comers approach the table, he throws back another glass of the drink.

One of the new comers spoke -

I thank you for inviting me to your table. I am, as I said, Ioan, this is Aeryn, and Olin. He said, indicating his companions in turn.
-

(My character) stands, attempts to bow and almost falls over.

Trying to speak through a heavy slur."I . . . . I . . . I'm mumblemuble . . " He then sits back down, looking quite pleased with himself for a job well down and gives the newcomers a pleasant nod.

[Krrth]

*watching those around him getting drunk, and fully expects to be ignored.*
You know, I think we may need to not drink as much here...we don't want to get in trouble on our first day.

[Townopolis]

Gaille

Once the tent is up, and his belongings stowed inside, Gaille turns his attention towards the brewmaster's tent, deciding to pay it a visit and invite Petros along.

"Now that that's settled, what say I buy you a glass of wine, if they have it, or at least something cool to wash the dust out? Come on, let us enjoy our last evening before duty commands."

Making his way to the tent, he ducks inside and holds the flap for his new friend. When the young barmaid approaches them, he smiles down at her warmly.

"Some wine for my friend and I, whatever is good... make it your best."

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila

"Hey, knight! Kome und shere a drink or nine vith us! Ve iz a nize heppy party over here, und dere's plenty to drink in de back!"

This greeting being extended, she turns to Morrigan.

"So, Morrigan, hyu got a tent or iz hyu gonna be schleepink out in de kold tonight? Uf kourse, hyu'll be varm on de inside!"

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan grinned, the heat of the drink starting to fill his head with that delightful pink haze he associated with good liqour. Och, unless yer invitin' me back to yer tent, lass, I think ay'll be out inna cold tonight.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila

"It's chust dat Hy vas plannink to use de vagon roufs tonight, und Hy kouldn' bear de tought uf Morrigan in de kold mud. Roufs are actually pretty goot beds, vunce hyu learn not to roll over."

She gives Morrigan a drunken grin at her last joke, and prepares to pour herself the last of the whiskey.

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Downing the rest of his wine. He orders another glass, taking it he approaches the other group of soldiers. "Greetings to you. I am Heinrich Schutzbar of House Schutzbar!"

[DJDeMiko]

Heinrich

Downing the rest of his wine. He orders another glass, taking it he approaches the other group of soldiers. "Greetings to you. I am Heinrich Schutzbar of House Schutzbar!"

Unnamed

Shootzbar, thassa funny name forra mana have in a bar . . .

[Destichado]

And so it continued into the early watches of the night.

The Ironclads' camp began to wake at first light before the dawn. The Horsemaster was up and checking his equine charges, having hay forked down the picket lines and three bushels of oats distributed over the hundred mounts, remounts and sumpter horses of the herd. Fires were stirred to life and built up for breakfast cooking by boys woken early by the watch.

As dawn broke and colored the horizon, soldiers still on watch went through the camp waking anyone not already up and moving. The Captain's leiutenants, given their orders the night before, began sending runners to gather the men they would need or walking to inform them personally, depending on the rank and station of their birth.




* * *

"Out from under the wagons! It's time to earn your pay!" A halberdier kicked patiently at the feet of anyone not obviously beginning to move. "Come on, get out of there. You'll be warmer out here as soon as the sun's up anyway."

One of the camp followers' boys ran up to him and tugged on his sleeve, mumbling a message. The halberdier nodded, and banged the butt of his polearm on the wagon in front of him.

"All right, this is for anyone out here from the bunch the Captain picked up yesterday," the solder announced. "You're all to report to his lordship, Lieutenant Deimos -god rest your souls- just after sunrise, so you'd better get a move on. His pavilion is the big blue one right next to the Captain's, and sure as sure I wouldn't be late if I were you."


* * *

"Wake up, wake up, wake up," a soldier said in a bored voice, pulling aside the tent flap with the prod of his crossbow. He peeked cautiously to check the decency of the occupants before sticking his head in.

"Who's this then?" he asked rhetorically. "Archer... archer... and foot, most like. All new. All right, you lot report to Lieutenant Deimos 'afore breakfast, and be quick about it if you value your hides."


* * *

"Ho, Petros, it's Osgood," a voice called just before someone untied the stiff fabric panel. The giant from the day before peered into the gloom.

"Petros, you -oh, you found a friend." A half-seen grin split the bearded face. "Handy. Wondered where he was. All right, both of you report to Deimos, first thing this morning. He needs outriders." He pulled his head back and let the tent flap close.
"Might want your armor," he called out, walking away.


* * *

"Sir Heinrich?" A voice announced its presence right before it stepped into the doorway of the small lamp-lit pavilion. It was one of the lieutenants who had stood behind Radomir, a dark, thin man in fluted black armor with an aquiline nose and an ugly, puckered scar that ran from the corner of his upper lip down his cheek and jaw and around the side of his neck until it disappeared under his gorget.

"I am Ser Deimos of Ilvia, your commander in your forthcoming assignment," the man said, without preamble or allowing for a response. "You are to report a half-hour after sunrise to my pavilion, armored and under arms. We will depart at noon, today, so make what preparations you desire for your baggage."

And, without waiting for a response, he turned about and left.

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

He rolls out from under a wagon and dusts himself off. Reaches back under and grabs his pack. He walks into the wood just far enough to get some privacy, takes care of his morning business and carefully re-equips the various small daggers he keeps hidden on his body. When he is finished he walks to the meeting and waits quietly.

[Adlan]

Ioan
Ioan woke when the light of the sun poked in along with orders

'All right, you lot report to Lieutenant Deimos 'afore breakfast, and be quick about it if you value your hides'

Ioan clutched his head as he got up....
'Blast me, what we get upto last night?' He rolled out of the wool blanket and cloak he slept in, and quickly got dressed.

'Reckon we need to report in full gear? That's what report alway's meant in my last service.

So, Hung Over, Ioan dressed in his Haubergon, over the gambision of leather and brought out his visorless sallet. One of his Bow's still in the case he brought with him also, and one of the arrow bag's.

He then packed away the rest of his gear, Save for his Hodden Grey cloak, which he donned to keep out the cold fog and mist of the old marshland.

Soon all his equipmet was stowed in bag's, ready to be packed away onto Hund (save the tent).
' I reckon we should report sharpish? he said to the other's.


When he walked to the meeting, he was a fair bit better, munching on the heel of a loaf, and a mite of cheese, before standing smartly waiting to be adressed. And Hoping it wasn't punishment for anything he did last night

'was it the singing? I remember the singing.....

[Townopolis]

Gaille

Gaille sat up in his bedroll and rubbed his eyes against the light. He remembered staying up a bit too late last night, even with only two cups in him he'd been enjoying the folk entertainments of his fellow soldiers too much to retire until they'd all staggered off to their beds, or whatever served as such. He had consoled himself by saying he was there to keep them out of too much trouble, but he knew the truth. It couldn't be helped, however, and everyone was entitled to some fun now and then, so he simply got out of his bedroll and began a morning ritual.

The bed was rolled up and tied at one end of the tent, he dressed himself and went outside to relieve himself at the jacks. Then he returned to help Petros with get armed and armored in exchange for some help properly donning his own platemail. He donned his sword and daggers, and hung his shield over one shoulder, then collected the rest of his weapons and took them to where Bella was being kept, stowing them near her saddle, to be slung after she was saddled.

Once preparations were complete, he grabbed a bite of gruel, then headed to meet this Deimos.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila

Raxila woke up hearing shouts and orders from below. She groaned - too much of the whiskey last night had her head pounding - and removed the hat slung across her face. Carefully sliding off the wagon roof, she listened to the shouts carefully.

"So, a Lieutenant Deimos, eh? Sounds like a fearzum chap - or as fearzum as dey get here. Vell, no sense vastink time!"

Raxila hurries off to the large blue pavilion to gauge the worth of this Deimos. Hopefully he wouldn't be one of the useless ones...

[Krrth]

'All right, you lot report to Lieutenant Deimos 'afore breakfast, and be quick about it if you value your hides'

*shaking his head, Aeryn starts to take down the tent*

Alright, let's see what our new employer has for us today, shall we?

*quickly putting the tent onto the mule, Aeryn grabs his other gear and head to Lieutenant Deimos' tent.*

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, stretched his arms and back and forth to relieve himself of any stiffness in the joints. Dressing for battle he dons the chainmail armor of a knight and attaches his sword to his belt and slings the shield over his back. He then carefully unwraps the leather surrounding his poleaxe, resting it on his shoulder and grabbing his helmet tucking it under his arm.

Getting his warhorse from the stablemaster, he hooks the poleaxe and the shield to the steed before leading it to the pavillon. No need to tire the horse out by riding it now. Arriving at the tent he ties the reins to a nearby post and enters.

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan awoke with a headache screaming inside of his skull and a pounding like highland war-drums in his temples. Splashing his face with cold water, he forced himself up, banging his head on the bottom of a wagon and groaning aloud. Grumbling, he crawled from under the wagon, quickly grabbing his kit. He nodded in acknowledgment to Raxila, giving her a wry grin as he strabbed his weaponry on, ducked off to relieve himself, then fell into step beside the fae as they headed off to see about their new command.

[Destichado]

The fabric of the Lieutenant's twin-peaked pavilion was so vividly blue that it must have been made with precious indigo dyes. The side panels were decorated with gesso-painted scenes of the faceless Ironclad warrior defending a naked maiden and striking down fantastical monsters in graphic detail. In each panel the same dark-haired maid covered herself with a sword and a heart-shaped pyxis, and the faceless Ironclad wielded a peculiar, short-handled poleaxe with a seven-bladed head.

When they arrived there were already the better part of a dozen men assembled there carrying a mix of crossbows, spears and axes, and one Nordic woman with golden braids and a sword and shield.

The red face of the sun had just crested the hills to the east and began its skyward climb when the Lieutenant swept his way out of his tent.

The man might have been darkly handsome, once, before he received the scar that marred his looks and twisted his lips into a permanent half-snarl. He wore polished black plate worth a fortune from the neck down, and a red military cape hung from the fluted lobstering of his pauldrons.

"I am Ser Deimos of Ilvia," he announced with a growl, "Lieutenant and third in command of the Ironhearts." He glared at the men assembled with an expression of distaste.

"The Captain has accepted a limited contract to escort a caravan of Khergit spice traders north through the Nord-law. As you well know, the "Nord law" is lawless, and the traders are justifiably concerned with the safety of their caravan. Accordingly, The Captain has charged me with its care, and charged you into my care. We march to the port of Wercheg, a distance of over one hundred miles. The Ironclads will march that far in less than four days, with our baggage train." His audience of recruits made noises of alternating awe and disbelief, but Deimos continued. "Since we will be dragging along merchants, it will take us five.

"Along the way, I have been ordered to separate the wheat from the chaff. Including myself, there will be four veteran Ironclads on the march. Petros Meryovic," he said, nodding to the mailled Vaegir. "Horse." He gestured to a nondescript crossbowman fussing with the boiled leather cover of his quarrel box. "Simon Messer, archer. And Yngvild Brandsdottir," he said, and the nord shield-sister inclined her head. "Foot."

Deimos was true to his name, and as he looked out at the twenty under his command, he took on the very aspect of Dread.
"We will be watching. Any man who cannot keep the pace will be left behind. Any man who wanders off will be left behind. Any man who shirks his duties," he said with fresh harshness, "will be slain. If I have to ride this caravan into Wercheg by myself, I would rather that than let any man into the Ironclads who might stain our honor."

"We march at noon," the Lieutenant said, turning on his heel and striding away. "Any man who would rather go back to this pestilential swamp had better be gone by then."

[Krrth]

Aeryn listens and takes a mental note of Simon Messer, assuming the man will most likely be his immediate commander for this "test".

He especially takes note of how the man is equipped.

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan shifted Anbhás on his back into a more comfortable position, eyeing the Nord woman speculatively. She looked tough, and she'd be tougher than she looked to become a veteran in such an outfit. He wondered, since it seemed she was to lead the footsloggers, what she'd be like as a commander.

[Krrth]

*waits until after Ser Deimos has left, then approaches Simon"

Excuse me, Simon Messer? Since you are a veteran, you obviously know how to stay alive and do this right. I was hoping you could help me how to do the same.

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

He stood observing Deimos during the speech being careful not to let his amusement show. Instead he kept a look of earnest interest on his face. He would have no difficulty keeping up or staying useful.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila

Raxila, like Morrigan, stares at the Nord. However, she's got a wide grin on her face. Ho yes! Another tough 'un, and from the looks of it someone worthy of respect.

After gloomy Deimos gives his speech, she ambles over to Yngvild and gives a tip of the hat to her.

"Goot mornink, mistress! Hy iz Raxila Kaarone, foot soldier onder you able kommund. Hy iz kertain ve'll get along chust fine. Hy iz also a varrior uf de sword und schield, und Hy vas vonderink chust how goot hyu iz vith you arms."

[Snacs]

Olin Scott

Olin yawned quietly into his hand as he listened to Deimos's speech. The man was a bore, though the spirits in the large tent moved with military precision. Even the Brownie sweeping in the corner was wearing a chainmail vest, it's brown head wearing a wooden Ironclad's mask.

He had rolled out of bed considerably more sober than the others, in part thanks to drinking only enough to give him that pleasant drunk buzz, and part due to the fact he was used to turning in late and waking early.

So, like most of the others he arrived if not in peak condition, but dressed, awake, and his elongated boar-spear against his shoulder, tilted at a far angle to keep it from slicing open the Lord's fancy tent.

He raised an eyebrow at the shield-sister, and gave a polite nod, though he couldn't get into a good range to speak with her just yet, the massive, green-skinned woman blocking his way.

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Returning to his tent, he collects the sumpter horse from the horsemaster and finds the camp follower who had originally unpacked his tent and pays her another denar to have her and her children pack it up and the rest of the supplies to be carried by the horse.

Tying the reins of the sumpter horse to his steed he is prepared for the march ahead of him deciding it would be best to take with him all his equipment so that it does not get lost or misplaced in the baggage train.

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

He stays and quietly observes the others. He tries to get a feel for those around him, both the other greenhorns as well as the veterans.

[Townopolis]

Gaille

After listening to a properly serious and grim speech from the lieutenant, Gaille makes sure to confirm their place of mustering with Petros, then turns and heads back to his tent. At the tent, he gathered up all his belongings, repacking his saddlebags, and carried them back to the horsemaster.

He retrieved both his horses. He saddled both, and loaded up his supplies on gamble, save for the weapons he would carry on him. His sword, two daggers, his shield, and a lance.

He took his time with the work, figuring he'd have plenty of time to do a good job of it before they were to head out. Before saddling and loading up his horses, he got himself an early lunch from one of the camp wives.

Once everything was in place, he lead Bella and Gamble to muster. He tied Gamble's reigns to Bella's saddle, then mounted the Percheron when they were to head out. For the first leg of the journey, Gaille stuck close to Petros. He greeted his tentmate with a cheerful grin and a hazy salute, then sidled Bella next to Petros' mount.

"So, commander, what have we planned for our escort duties?"

Gaille got any orders Petros had for him, from marching orders to contingency plans, then found his place in the march.

When they met with their charges, the merchants, Gaille sought out a driver whose cart he could tie Gamble's reigns to, so as to not have the palfrey dragging at Bella should the time for action arise. Once that business is done, he returns to his place in the march.

[Adlan]

Ioan

Loading Hund with all the gear and the tent as well, was a pleasent enough activity, after getting the mule from the horesemaster, Ioan brushed him down, and bought a hayporth (Haypennce worth) of oats, to treat him with.
As he Loaded on the Bags, Ioan sang, his clear baritone calming the mule, and stopping the protests that always arose whenever Hund had to do any work.

On Ioan's own back, his bow, also two of his cloth bags of arrows, and at his side, his Belt Knife, and Axe.

Soon he was ready to depart, Water Skin's filled with clean good small beer, and some extra bread and cheese. Hund was loaded down, and ready to go, between the two of them, Ioan reckoned they'd keep pace, Hund was used to much heavier loads of grain, and could go all day at a good walking pace.

[Destichado]

"Excuse me, Simon Messer? Since you are a veteran, you obviously know how to stay alive and do this right. I was hoping you could help me how to do the same."

"Hit your mark and don't get hit," he said simply, then grimaced.
"Ah, don't fret about it, this is easy duty. With a caravan to slow us down and haul everything, we'll travel in style. We're bringing one of the wagons with us and a good bunch of sumpters, so take what you please or you won't see it again until we rejoin the company. I'm taking most everything I have, and heaven knows lord Demios is."

The arbalastier finished arranging his bolts in their belt case and slid the lacquered leather lid in place. "You'll be fine, most like," he said. "Just don't wander off without ordrers or fall asleep on watch, or by god you'll be in more trouble than you know what to do with." He blanched as he said it, apparently the archer did not know what to do with that much trouble, himself.
"That's all you need worry about, truly."



* * *


Gaille sidled Bella next to Petros' mount.

"So, commander, what have we planned for our escort duties?"

Petros looked over at Gaille in shock.
"Surely you jest, sir. I could never give an order in earnest to you or Sir Heinrich -truely, I am not even knighted.". The young Vaegir nodded to the figure in black at the head of the procession. "Ser Deimos is our commander, and in truth I know not what he has planned. With only twenty of us he needs no lieutenants, but if he did it would be Yngvild there, not me."

Petros smiled ruefully. "Your humble servant is merely a man at arms his grace tolerates a little more than others."



* * *


The flat northern plains stretched over a hundred miles in every direction, from the edge of Swadia all the way to the sea. It was watered by rivers that raised and lowered with the tide even this far south. The land was an unending sea of grass, a wasteland of pasture impossible to farm, and quickly surrendered when the Nords crossed the sea.

"Yngvild," Deimos cried out.

Some moments later the grim shield maiden fought her way through the knee-high grass from the wagon fort to the side of the knight's chestnut palfrey.
"I want scouts moving ahead of us," said the Lieutenant. "Pick four likely men and send them out. I want to hear back twice a day."

She thinned her lips and nodded.



* * *

Yngvild shouted names out at the footmen and archers pacing the horse and ox-drawn wagons. "Jarni! Aeryn! Olin! and-" she paused, scanning the faces, "you, the quiet one. ...yes you, get over here, Quiet," she said, making a name of it.

The shield maiden hung off the side of the Ironclad wagon while the men congregated.

"You are to be our scouts. Press ahead a league and see what there is to see, then come back and tell lord Deimos. Two go in the morning, two in the evening, work the rest between yourselves."

[Krrth]

Thank you for the advice, Simon. I hope you are correct about the easy duty.

Jarni! Aeryn! Olin! and-" she paused, scanning the faces, "you, the quiet one. ...yes you, get over here, Quiet," she said, making a name of it.
...Gotta go!

*jogs over to Yngvild*

Yes Ma'am, will do.

*To the others*

I have very good night vision, so I should probably take one of the evening runs. I don't really care one way or the other, however.

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

As the company readied itself to set off, Morrigan armed himself for battle - not wanting to roast inside his chain, he wore only a tunic and kilt, but his shield was in one hand and his spear in the other, with his swords on his back and belt, respectively, should he need them. After Yngvild issued her orders, he approached her, making sure to keep a measure of respect in his stance.

If yer not fer mindin' the question, Ma'am, do ye know aught about who or what we might be facin' should some fools decide to attack us? That is, how our foes might be armed an' armored, and what their dispositions might be?

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

With a small smile, he speaks. His voice is soft but confident. With one for evening, i shall volunteer to go in the morning. My vision is keen enough, but I like as much warning as possible between myself and my enemies.

[Destichado]

After Yngvild issued her orders, Morrigan approached her, making sure to keep a measure of respect in his stance.

"If yer not fer mindin' the question, Ma'am, do ye know aught about who or what we might be facin' should some fools decide to attack us? That is, how our foes might be armed an' armored, and what their dispositions might be?"


The shield sister made a face like she had bitten into something nasty and turned away. Cinching her shield higher up on her shoulder, she hopped off the running board of the wagon fort and waded though the waves of tall grass.

"Pirates, most like," she said after a noticeably long pause. Apparently she decided the question deserved an answer. "Lordless Nord warriors gone a'viking. The flats are full of rivers here, we'll not be further than ten miles from one from here to Wercheg."

She went on, "There are bandit villages, besides. The peasants band together and murder outsiders who do not know their secret. And this is a Khergit caravan, and the Khergit Hoard wars with the Vaegirs, and the Vaegirs war with the Nords. If we come upon a Vaegir lord on campaign, he might take us as fair game."

Yngvild shrugged mailled shoulders and tossed her braids out of her way.
"They pay us for a reason."

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan shrugged slightly 'tis all the same, I suppose. But I like to know whose blood'll be staining my blades, but in the end men die the same. Dust to dust 'n all that

Seeing the unfriendly look in the woman's eye, he fell back in line beside Raxila. In a low undertone, he spoke as he walked beside her That one's colder'n a banshee's breath, no mistake.

[Townopolis]

Gaille

Gaille smiles, although his mouth is somewhat obscured beneath his helm.

"It seems I was led astray by good Deimos' words. I fear I'm made wary entering this new command, unsure who's going to take umbrage at a knight for stepping beyond his station."

He sighed and adjusted his grip on his lance, maintaining a hold on it even while letting it rest across his saddle. Across the caravan, the Nord woman spoke with some of the footsoldiers, Petros spoke true, she certainly seemed to have the air of a subcommander about her. He turned his attention back to Petros.

"So then tell me, Petros, at least I understand you've marched with this company for a time before me. How would you like to like to advise me? I would benefit from having someone to help me navigate these new waters."

Gaille checks their formation, seeing if there was a sense of order about it, or if Deimos were arranging it somehow, should he find these to not be the case, he turns back again to Petros.

"Come, let us take the rearguard. Riding abreast we will have the caravan less vulnerable to surprise, and you can show me the landmarks in those here."

[Krrth]

Alright people, let's get out there and do what we need to do. I suggest we gather our gear, grab a quick meal and get moving.

*At that Aeryn moves back towards his tent. Once the gear has been collected, he stops off long enough to grab a meal of bread and cheese, and heads out to begin scouting.*

[Adlan]

(RL: Aeyrn, the Tent is on the back of my mule)

Ioan
Ioan helped Aeyrn grab his gear off the back of the mule, as it plodded along in the lee of one of the wagons.
'Reckon You'll find anything much?'
He asked his companion.



After the scouts had departed, Ioan walked along side Hund, his eye's scanning the horizion, but cheerful and relaxed.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila

Raxila spits in the dirt at the mention of Yngvild. "Oh yah. No fun at hall - she don' even like a goot scrap. My blade's been dry far too long, und Hy'm yearnink for a fight. Hy don' really kare vedder ve fight zum ragtag Nord bundits or ve get to schow de Vaegir vy ve von at Glenmalure. Up vith helberd, out vith sword. Schtill, if ve kan keep pace vith de vanguard ve'll be de first vuns in de scrap!"

At the thought of a fight, Raxila gives a discomforting grin.

[Krrth]

ooc: It was just my way of saying he was double checking he had everything.

IC:

Who knows what we will find. There's enough desperate people out there that they may try something, so be careful.

[Snacs]

Olin Scott

"Of Course M'Lady!As you wish!"He said and gave a bow any Noble Dandy would find impressive, before quickly footing it past the group.


"I believe I'll take the morning's work as well, It's always pleasant to stretch one's legs out after a night's rest yes?" Olin added with a slow, easy smile as he jogged past the others, falling in with 'Quiet'.

He slung the boar-spear across one should, and slowly untied the waterskin at his belt, chuckling under his breath as his tiny water spirit wriggled from the opening, seeming to balloon outward as it left the tiny opening from which he would drink. It gave him a smile, then leaped towards his stomach, it's body disappearing into his. He felt the tattoo on his back grow cold for a moment, then return to normal as the spirit 'rested'.

He sighed and tipped back his head, taking a long pull from the cold, clear water, before offering some to his fellow scout.

"It's not ale, but you'll not find cleaner water in the whole company my friend"He said in cheerful offer.

[DJDeMiko]

Possibly Quiet

Olin -
"It's not ale, but you'll not find cleaner water in the whole company my friend" He said in cheerful offer.

"Quiet" takes the waterskin and thanks him. After taking a deep swig he says in a quiet but friendly voice."Looks like we will be scouting together, do you have much experience scouting?"

[Snacs]

"Not one bit"He said cheerfully, shrugging as he took the waterskin back, hanging it from his belt without capping it. His boar spear titled, stretching it across his shoulders, arms hooked over the thick, stout wood.

"Spirits willing I'll do a good enough job, though I believe we are mostly to watch for large groups of bandits and such, as I doubt anything less than a dozen men will be able to harm the company and the cargo." He said thoughtfully, and wriggled his fingers a bit, as if stretching them.

A soft breeze picked up, and at the faint edge of hearing both men could hear a faint giggle, as if from a group of young maidens. The air inf ront of Olin coalesced into about a half-dozen small, winged shapes, womanly but with a fragile appearance, as if they were made of a kite's cloth rather than skin and bone. Zephyrs, spirits of the West Wind. They dashed like birds hunting fish to his waterskin, cupping in tiny hands a droplet or two of the cold, clear water of his home, so different from these tall-grassed plains.

He smiled benignly and breathed out a puff of air, and they scattered through the tall grass. They'd look ahead for him, and scout much more effectively than he himself could.

"Ahh...feel that breeze. A West Wind is often said to be a bringer of good fortune, should the spirits take a liking to you"He gave a small smile as he stretched his long legs out, keeping pace with 'Quiet', the thick, bone-handled dagger at his belt gently tapping against his hip with each step.

[DJDeMiko]

Quiet

Quiet's arms swung slightly by his side, keeping pace with his long legs as he walked. He shrugged the light weight dark-green cloak from around his body to just across his back, revealing a bandoleer of small throwing knives and two long daggers on either hip.

"Well, if you see something let me know," he said looking over at Olin, "and if you see me duck into the bushes or turn tail and run, I'd advice you do the same."

[Destichado]

Two days passed without incident. Ser Deimos pressed the caravan hard, waking befor dawn and not stopping until dusk, demanding meals on the move and cycling mounts and draught beasts to drive on in excess of eighteen miles a day. Even so, he was not satisfied. A rider alone on horseback could travel faster of course, and even a determined man afoot if he could find a game trail or has the strength to cut his way through the high grass. But for a wagon train, driven by ponies and oxen over broken, roadless lands, it was a stupendous pace.

In absence of enemies, the Ironclads more than earned their lucrative pay. Their far-ranging scouts brought back word of gullies and floodwashes to avoid, rivers and where they might be forded, landmarks and signs of habitation. The four mounted horsemen rode ahead of the caravan, finding the hazards the scouts had earlier discovered and marking the way around them. And the foot... The foot picked up the broken pieces. When a wagon slipped a wheel or broke an axle, it was the footmen who bent their backs and to set it to rights, and quickly so the line of march would not be delayed.

On the morning of the third day, one of the scouts -Jarni- did not return.

Olin and the scout coming to be called Quiet set out in the direction Aeryn said Jarni had gone the night before.
One of the lowlands' many shallow, meandering rivers lay in their way. The two of them split up in opposite directions, looking for a ford. And so Quiet was the first to find Jarni, around a bend in the river, under a misshapen sycamore, staked to the banks beneath a blanket of crows and vultures.

Jarni had been slain by a blow to the chest, likely from an axe, that had split his breastbone down the middle. His killers had not stopped there. In a fit of artistic butchery, other shallow, precise cuts had separated the ribs from the collarbone, and they opened, broke and unfolded the ribcage so that it lay stretched out beneath his arms like a pair of bloody wings. Then, very deliberately, the body was staked down so as not to be disturbed when it was worked over by the carrion eaters of the wilds.

Quiet noticed at least a dozen pairs of footprints in the sandy mud, that had milled around and headed off into the river.

The report brought an uproar. Deimos coldly ordered every man to arm himself for imanent attack. Petros shook his head at the barbarity of the killing and made disparaging comments about the Nords who must have done it. Vjarna flew into a rage and demanded to see the body, and would have run off to find it herself had she not been ordered to stand her place. The Khergit merchants and their eunuch slaves ran around lighting incense sticks to place on the corners of their wagons to appease the spirits of the wind, and other obtuse fetishes they professed to bring luck and safeguard them from harm.

The recruits were left in the middle of it all.

[Adlan]

Ioan
The Archers Broad Shoulders, and tough, farmers body, had been of much use on the trip, his brute strength useful, as well as that of the Mule who carried his burdens.

When the Order to Arm Came, Ioan Took his Best Bow out of it's cloth bag, and strung it.

Strung, it canged from a simple stave of wood, into a fine curve of beauty, highly polished wood, with a simple but beautiful colour change from heart to sap.

Ioan also unstrapped one of his cloth bags, and tied it to his belt, the top strap open, and the arrows ready at hand. He then slung his other two bags of arrows on his back, so he could carry them with him at need.

Hund he loosend, the knot holding him to the wagon infront. The Mule was an old friend, and wouldn't run away untill things look really dire. If it came to that, Ioan would rather risk chasing his mule for a while, than leave his animal to be killed like the scout was.

Prepared for war, from his haubergon to his sallet, his bracer and Tab to the bow strung in hand, he scanned the horizion for any enemy.

[Krrth]

Aeryn had been enjoying himself. He was learning more about the world of men, yet had nature to retreat to when he felt the need. All that was about to change.

Upon hearing of the fate of his fellow scout, Aeryn's face grew dark.

In the language of his father:Humans! he muttered in disgust. What beasts they can be, to do that to one of their own.

Aeryn grabbed his spare quiver and looked for a somewhat protected vantage point to shoot from.

[Raz_Fox]

When Raxila saw the body, she closely examined it. "Nord vork. Nasty buisness, especially ven dey first rip out de lungs. A blood eagle, dey kall it. Vaste uf time, if hyu ask me. Chust a simple kick to der face vorks chust as vell."

When she returns to the caravan, she pulls her dented purple shield off her back and pulls out her sword, giving her unsettling wide grin as she does so. She turns to Morrigan. "Don' vorry - Hy hef de ears uf a fox und de eyes uf a hokk. Hy'll be sure to tell hyu ven dey're komink. It's time to hunt."

[DJDeMiko]

Quiet

After giving his report, Quiet still felt somewhat queasy. He had seen bloodshed in his life, sometimes caused by others and sometimes by himself, but such grisly displays had been rare. he preferred clean quiet kills.

He steeled himself against the urge to vomit. If your throwing up when those who did that arrive, you will only end up like that man he thought.

Quiet drew the large dagger from his right side. It could only be called a dagger because it wasn't large enough to be a short sword, not quite large enough at least. Quiet didn't care what others might call it, the dagger was his favorite weapon and one of the few stolen goods that he had never, and would never, sell. It wasn't a beautiful dagger in it's form, it had no designs carved or painted upon it. No, it in many ways looked like a simple weapon that a peasant might own, however it was in reality one of the highest quality weapons that Quiet had ever seen. In function it was perfect, the weight was just right and it was so sharp that Quiet sometimes believed it would start to cut before the blade had even touched the surface.

He had pulled it from a man who had accused him of cheating at a game of dice. The man had come at him with the knife, Quiet had disarmed it then used it to kill the man. He had named the blade Luck that night.

Quiet gave himself one quick last moment before pushing the sight of the scout out of his mind then with Luck in hand, he waded out into the bushes and sank out of sight.

[Snacs]

Olin Scott

Well. And that was that, then.

Olin muttered a soft prayer to the spirits for the deceased scout. Jarni had seemed nice enough, and deserved the spirit's blessings for the kind of death Quiet had reported. The Nord's had their own notions to the spirits, one which Olin had always found rather repulsive. They bound and beseeched them with the blood of others, and offerings of pain and death. No good would come of that.

When the call to arms ran through the group He had little to change, seeing as how he had only the clothes on his back and the spear and Dagger that seemed habitually a part of him.

He did, however, start drawing a circle about his tent each night with the sharpened butt of his spear, filling it with a thin rivulet of the water from the skin on his belt. Oddly enough, the water never seemed to dissipate into the earth, only vanishing at morning's light when others came to wake them for the day's march. He said not a word about it to his tent-mates, only giving the two a small, quiet smile and a nod before he'd head off to sleep, a palm on the pommel of his dagger, and his boarspear standing silent sentinel just outside the tent's entrance.

[Townopolis]

Gaille

Gaille was shocked to hear of the barbaric way the body had been displayed, and had to take a moment to ensure that his morning meal would remain in his stomach. When Deimos gave the order, there was little to do. Gaille already Carried his shield and lance, and his sword was at his side and his crossbow hung from Bella's saddle. Already armed, he rode to the van to get himself out of the way while the others prepared.

He was wide awake now, having slipped every so slightly into the dulling routine of the march. Now his head seemed clear and his limbs almost tingled with the anticipation of an attack. It was not a pleasant feeling, and an old, familiar knot formed in his gut to compliment it.

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Filthy, barbaric Nords always meddling with and raiding the civilized peoples of the world. Equipping his armor, he keeps his helmet and weapons at the ready in case of attack or if the order is given to ride out and find the enemy.

Most of his time is spent riding his horse riding around the caravan on the lookout for any would be attackers. He was looking for a fight, it was time to take the battle to the Nordic invaders who stolen Swadian land.

[Destichado]

As it happened, the threat came that evening, from the west.

There was a horn blast, and suddenly thirty men in helmets and maille shirts rose up out of the tall grass in a rough arc little more than two hundred yards from the wagon train. They must have lain in wait for their prey, and now they had them. One good, short run and they would be upon them. Even if Deimos would have allowed it, there was no way they could possibly flee. But they did not fall upon them, not immediately. They were Nords. They wanted a fight.

The raiders banged their swords against their shields in a pulsing rattle, or pumped their axes in the air shouting garbled taunts and threats. Vjarna and another Nord-born recruit returned the oaths and taunts with gusto, singing them out so the sound would carry.

One raider in a golden helmet vaulted over the back of another and sprang up onto a shield carried on the shoulders of two others. With exaggerated motions meant to be seen over the distance, he toasted them with a vessel that had to have been made from a skull. Then he exposed himself, and made water as if to spray on the Ironclads.

At this Vjarna screamed in outrage, casting about for something to throw. Even Deimos looked affronted.
"Archers," he said, drawing from his saddlebow a long battle axe or short poleaxe with an odd, seven-bladed head. "Loose!"

Arrows and bolts spat out and the sea raiders ceased their taunting and hunkered behind their shields. The golden-helmeted Nord leaped off his perch, pulling up his trews in mid-air.

"Foot," he ordered, gesturing with the axe, "hold your ground and take orders from Varnja. Horse, to me!" he cried, and spurred his black stallion leaping into a gallop.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila

The Nords weren't the only ones hollering and throwing abuse. Distance and Raxila's thick accent made it hard, but the hand gestures helped get her point across.

At Deimos's order for the footmen to stay back, Raxila yelled after him, "Bloody eediot, lettink de kalvary hef hall de fun! Vat about doze uf us back here vantink a fight?"

She grabbed Morrigan by the arm and grinned.
"Kome on Morrigan, no sense kowerink here in de back ven ve kould be at de front uf de defense! Let's kill zum Nords!"

[Townopolis]

Gaille

At Deimos' command, Gaille spurred Belle forward, the warhorse responded instantly, having sensed her rider's agitation and recognizing the signs of battle. She galloped forward, and Gaille steered her into line with Deimos' mount, so that they were riding abreast, or as close to as they could manage.

Gaille held his lance raised as they charged, waiting until the last moment to bring it down to skewer one of the Nords, steeling himself for contact.

When the lance breaks, or is dragged down by a Nordic body, Gaille draws his sword and begins to fight in earnest while trying to keep Bella moving. Should a brief moment of respite come, he shall catch his wind and quickly scan the battle for Petros, to see how the Vaegir fares.

[Destichado]

Raxila was well on her way with Morrigan when Vjarna caught up to them, blade drawn.
"Get back there and hold your ground or I'll kill you myself and save the Nords the trouble," she shouted, braids whipping behind her.

Abruptly her demeanor changed and the shield maiden nodded at the heavy cavalry, nigh untouchable in their chain and plate, breaking through the nord shieldwall and whirling about to bite them from behind.
"Look there, they've bloodied them, they sow confusion... But they kill precious few. Lord Deimos knows his craft better than that. The horse breaks them and drives them to us, then runs away. They give chase and come right to us without their shield wall so the archers can pick them off one at a time. And right before the clash the horse breaks them up for us again. Then we do all the killing."

The Nord woman smiled icily. "Now go on, good spirit, but get back there before I have to make an example for the others. At thee to two there's more than enough to go around."

[DJDeMiko]

Quiet

Quiet moves crouching through the underbrush. He grins to himself watching the the northerner chase after the cavalry. He moves forward again, still staying vaguely near where the other foot are, just off to the side hidden. Barely even moving, his chest only rising a fraction as he breathes, Quiet watches the foot and waits for the Nords to get close enough . . .

[Krrth]

*Watching the antics of the Golden Helmeted target, Aeryn suppressed the desire to but an arrow through his goblet*

Here we go he muttered to himself.

Taking aim, he waits for them to get closer.

[Adlan]

Ioan
Ioan had an Arrow Strung, and His Bow Bent at the first order of command.

On the First Order to loose, he had let fly a shot with the full power of his bow, It Arched High, and Came whitling down amongst the Nords, to Smash throw a shield, pucturing through it, though by ill luck not doing more than frighten the warrior relying on it's protection.

But, as the Nords Advanced, Ioan Began feeding his Bow, arrow after arrow arched out, climbing high to fall amongst the nords. Many would hit only bare ground, and they would suffice to disperse the nords, and break up their fighting order. Others still fell upon their shield, makeing them less wieldy, or pinning them to the weilders arms.

Some few still would find their mark, and penetrate the chain clad back of the nords, splitting the rings with the narrow point widening as it penetrated, and breaking the riveted bond.

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan was with Raxila, about to charge into the heart of the Nord line, when the norsewoman came and ordered them back. He was straining at the leash now, fire in his eyes, and he made catcalls and gestures toward the Nords. As he watched the cavalry break and bloody their line, the laughed, banging his sword on his shield, and leaned back his head and howled like a highland wolf.

Come on ye wee bastards! Come an get a taste of steel if ye've got more bollocks than the women what bore ye! He grinned, winking at Raxila No offense, o' course.

[DJDeMiko]

Brandon


Sitting in the bushes he hears

Morrigan - Come on ye wee bastards! Come an get a taste of steel if ye've got more bollocks than the women what bore ye! He grinned, winking at Raxila No offense, o' course.


Yes, Brandon thought to himself, draw attention to yourself, be a target. When those Nords swing their swords and axes at you, chipping at your flesh and armor, I will be moving in behind them to plant Luck in their backs.

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Pullng his helmet on, the Swadian lifts his poleaxe from its sling across the saddle tucking deadly weapon under his arm. Hefting his shield up into position with his left hand he grabs the reins once again, and whips his horse around to face the enemy.

Spurring the steed on to go faster he links up with the other cavalry just in time to slam into the wall of human flesh, he heard the satisfying crunch of bone and the screams of men as they experienced the full force of nearly one ton of horse and rider.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila

Raxila just grins at Morrigan and taps her hat. "Uf kourse not. Hy hef more bollocks ten de vole uf dem kombined. Und don' chust giff dem a taste uf schteel - giff dem de vole blade."

[Krrth]

*Watches as the Nords come into range*

Almost....just a little more....

*Suddenly, he stands and shoots. A Nord who moved his shield slightly too far takes an arrow to the chest, piercing a lung. A few seconds later, the Nord standing next to him takes an arrow in the throat.*

[Snacs]

Olin Scott

Olin smirked and waited almost indolently, seeming rather unimpressed by the Nord's display.

"What a truly ugly bunch, wouldn't you say?"He said sidelong at Raxila as he stepped up beside her, his Boar-Spear pointing forward, the sharp, long bladed tip lowered to the ground.

He whistled softly, and reached down, lifting some of the dirt from beneath his feet, and crumbling it loosely between his fingers. A few low grumbles came from his feet, and then shot away towards the Nords.

The barbarians soon found their feet slipping, or being nudged at the last moment. Shields tilted and arrows found their marks more easily, or perhaps one tripped into the path of a rushing horsemen rather than leaping away.

Of course, not many on the battlefield would see the tiny spirits, each up to a Nord's knees, and quite happily tackling or shoving at thick, muscled Nord legs, a few even clambering up and undoing shield straps and the like.

There were about half a dozen of them, each the same dusky brown of the earth under their feet. Many wore headdresses of the tall grass, and one or two sported small, sharp swords crafted from the little rock that could be found in the area.

"See?they cannot even keep formation. We will have to teach them the benefits of proper military leadership, shouldn't we Madam Vjarna?" He said smoothly, watching the fighting going on amiably.

[Adlan]

Ioan
The Nords drew ever closer, despite the confusion of a cavalry charge, and the ever increasing death toll from the deadly arrow fire, they came on still.

Ioan Drew his bow, again and again, Rapidly loosing arrows into the foe. His Arrows Smashed Aside Armour, Split Chain mail and Broke Bone, Punctured shields and skulls alike.

But he was amazed to watch Aeryns shots from the corner of his eye. The Hunters Bow and the arrows it spat with a wicked crack of sinew and composite materials, would never have the shear power of Ioan's bow. But Every Shot winged out with deadly accuracy, the neck joint, the exposed thigh, the eye socket of a helm.

It was an amazing feat of archery, but still the Nords came on, despite the casualites the archers inflicted on them.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila

As the Nords came forward, Raxila roared out a Rhodok battle cry and leapt forward, sword swinging in great arcs and shield raised. She slammed her purple shield into the face of a Nord warrior while she slashed across the chest of another.

As the Nords slammed into the ranks of the caravan warriors, Raxila fought three or four Nords at a time; slashing, bludgeoning, biting, kicking. "Kome on! Fight like men, hyu trice-demed Nords!"

However, her back was dangerously exposed as she forged ahead through the Nords.

[Krrth]

*Aeryn tried to keep an eye out for his fellows, but in the Chaos it was difficult. At least once he had to shoot some Nord that was going for Raxila's unprotected back.*

That fool woman is going to get herself killed if she's not....
*Aeryn spots the gold helmed Nord within range. Quickly, he looses an arrow not to kill, but to cripple for possible capture. The Nord screams in pain as an arrow penetrates his knee, breaking the knee-cap.*