Dogs of War - Ivesk

After saluting back, the man clears his throat and begins.


"I won't lie, it's a long story. Might take a while." And so it does, though not too long of one. In all the years of service, Ivesk learned quite well how to give a concise yet detailed overview of a situation - a skill that comes in handy under many situations. After all, there is rarely enough time to stand around talking.


The only difficult part of giving the report is holding emotions at bay. But he learned to do that, too, a long time ago.
 
Decorum is, in the way of old soldiers, breached as she breathes a stunned fuck in response.


"Well, you're all welcome to stay here for the time being. I'll consult with the higherups about what we do with the chain of command here, where you'll go, but don't worry about that. You must be exhausted - get some sleep; we might need your blades again before long."
 
"Thank you. I'm sure the rest will appreciate the good news." He sighs, shoulders slumping just a bit. "I know I do."


Perhaps the exhaustion has an upside. It's unlikely he'd manage to sleep well after what happened, if his body and mind alike weren't completely devoid of energy.


Might have a nightmare or two, though. But can't do much about that.
 
Waking is disorientating. This isn't your bed. This isn't your room. Who are- It's like being a recruit again. Surrounded by sleep-breathing, sweat, the sense of closeness.


A bell rings - changing of the watch, time to get up.
 
The emotions swirling in Ivesk's head as he sluggishly rises from the bed make for quite the rush - the nostalgia, sorrow, relief and guilt mixing into a confusing slurry. At least it's better than the looming threat of crushing depression... although that's still a possibility.


Well, no time for introspection. Getting into the rhythm of another garrison shouldn't be too hard, considering the similarities... but it's still better to get right on that.
 
It's an odd morning, all bustle and noise that seems to wash over you. No connection to the routines, just you and your surly band of beaten troops. Like ghosts in their garrison.


Around midday the Major calls you to her office.


"Orders came quick for once," she says, offering you a clump of tobacco across the table. "We're to send you and any of your other troops well enough for the duty out to scout."
 
Ivesk gladly accepts the offer - why not, after all. He listens to the new orders with slightly furrowed brow... though not in full disapproval.


Scouting is just about perfect, seeing how sitting around would only make him feel more restless. There's little time to dwell when on the move. He's not entirely sure his troops will appreciate it as much as he does. They must be exhausted. He's exhausted, even after the night of proper rest. Or mostly proper, anyway. Whatever the case, there is more to it than the physical part. But...


"Understood. I will check up on them and get everyone suitable ready. When are we to leave?"
 
"Two hours." She replies, with a pained expression. "You're welcome to our stores if you need anything, just sign it past the quartermaster."


On the way down you pass a Quiller with an odd expression. He salutes.


"Major Ivesk? Magister-Sergeant Kruze. Wanted to ask about that non-standard weapon you're carrying around."
 
Ah yes. Here it comes. All things considered, it's more of a surprise it took Quill this long to ask.


"Of course. What exactly is it you want to know?"
 
"Well, where it came from, for one. Were you hiding one of my colleagues up there, trying out new manufacturing techniques?"
 
Well, no harm in some more honesty. No doubt they will want to examine it, of course - and with two hours to spare, he may very well let them - but he doubts they would go as far as to confiscate it.


"It was given to me by an odd being. Your colleagues were involved, however - they originally transported it, but all died due to an attack by the Vampires. The creature was held in Holm's End afterwards."


And led to its destruction. But he can't really say that.


Well, he can. Just really doesn't want to do it again.
 
"I see... Can I take it for a quick study and sample-taking?"


He gives away nothing, but you think it clear that this is news to him. Secrets within secrets.
 
"Naturally. All I ask is that it is returned within two hours, if possible." Ivesk hands the weapon over - why not, really? He's quite curious about it himself, and Quill just might decide to fill him in after running the tests. "Is that all? I need to check up on my troops."
 
"That'll do, Sir. Don't let me hold you up any longer."


Your troops are sat around the mess, grumbling to themselves. A few playing Go, keeping sharp. Once an officer hopeful, always an officer hopeful, you suppose. Forge on, and do not let a death be in vain - few have experienced a loss like your command, but that ethos is the root of H'kaeri mourning.
 
As per usual, the Major joins the nearest of the tables his troops are seated around. After the greetings and a moment of silence, he gets to the point.


"We've new orders - those who aren't wounded that is. Nothing big, a scouting mission, but we've got two hours to prepare. Get the word out." A bit unconventional perhaps, relaying orders this way, but he discovered long ago that it's far quicker than gathering everyone.
 
Your troops are assembled within the hour. Eager to go - off-duty fever must be setting in. Equipped with their own gear and what your hosts could spare.
 
The officer himself is itching to leave as well - or at least to do something. Anything. Idleness is inviting the mind to wander, and nothing good can come of it. He's done enough dwelling on what happened as it is, and the last thing he needs is wavering in his determination to make up for his failures. And to protect what he has left.


For now, he focuses on the pre-departure process. Double-check the gear, ensure combat readiness, make sure nobody's overestimating their ability to go out there - for their sake as much as the group's. As the time to leave arrives, he gives the order without delay.


He finds himself hoping they will find something. Maybe in doing so, and ridding the garrison of a threat, he'll find a much-needed boost in resolve.
 
Gates open. Calls and responses exchanged - you and two other troops you name can get back inside, lead anyone else. A contingency in case anything steals your shape.


It's been known to happen.


The dry scrubland stretches out north, into low hills and rocky rises. It's a cloudy day, but the wind is warm and smells faintly of salt. The trenches stretch about a mile northward before you hit the first line of traps and then, wilderness. Just a quick circuit of the area, a few forays beyond, and the job will be done.
 
Should be easy enough - but that sentiment isn't accurate nearly as often as logic would dictate, in Ivesk's experience. Just in case, he prepares for the worst. It's not like it can end worse than the last mission.


Then again, he's been wrong before, wasn't he.


So much for focusing on the task at hand helping to take his mind off what happened, too.


Maybe something going a bit wrong wouldn't be all bad, in that sense.
 
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