Fantasy Fading Flame (In Character)

[SilverFlight]

Bron watched the mail hit the ground, estimating its weight and giving a purse-lipped nod of approval. Everything about the giant was impressive, from her build to her thoughtful words on acceptance. Here was someone he could learn from.
"May there be more 'nice surprises' in both our futures then."

He listened as she spoke of why she was there. At the mention of carrying cargo he couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh I am very well-aqcuianted with the mundane. I was to be a clan leader before I left. Stuck in the village day in and day out sorting petty grievances, while avoiding my father and his attempts to marry me off to a woman I've never met."
Bron shook his head. "Perhaps it was selfish of me, but I couldn't submit to that life. Not when I could do more."
Epiphany

The young elven girl was brave with her words and Bron, though sensing the unease, respected her courage. His heart went out to her as he realized her family likely wasn't anywhere near.
"I'm sure you will." He said supportively. "And until you do, you can stick close to us. We'll look our for you."
Bron wasn't sure if roping the giantess into that promise was a great idea, but he did it anyway.
"Have you fed yourself? What are you called?"
His father would never have approved of Bron fussing over a lost child. The thought satisfied him immensely.
"Most here call me Bron."
-robert-

He sat back, enjoying the company of his new-found friends and losing his thoughts in the crackling flames of the campfire. A darker question floated past his attention:
"Why do the darkborne throw themselves at this place every night?"
Epiphany -robert-

 

[Trappy]

Gilligani, Vera and Terrwyn​

Darkness washed over the Darkwoods, claiming its dominion as the sun went down behind the ranges beyond the Vainlight Valley and last lights of the day was snuffed out. The convoy halted in an opening, guarded by small, separated patches of trees. The faint tired and weary occupants moved about, setting up tents and starting small fires as the company set camp for the night. A dozen guardsmen - a somewhat underwhelming security attachment for the supply convoy, but they were the ones available - quickly formed a perimeter with their mounts. With shifts given and their duties clear, the guards entered their positions around the camp as watchers of the night. Soon enough, the fires were prepared, and nightly procedures began to take over the atmosphere.

Further away from the activities and smells of cooking being prepared, a curious trio was lurking behind some bushes. They were positioned ahead of the convoy ever since they left Frontierville naught but a few days ago, and while they were more than welcome to join the others for dinner, one could only tolerate hardtacks and Dream Lily soup for so long. They wanted meat, the proper food - meat, and they were sure they were gonna get it, or dai tryin'.

But in the end, apparently some forest meats aren't as interesting as some mysterious campfire in the middle of the Darkwoods. Like see, who in their right mind would pick such a place for a picnic? Oh wait...

The mage crawled backwards on his knees and hands from the bush, sneaked quite a way back the path they went, pushed over some heavy foliage, and checked on the convoy's camp, before rushing back to his allies, steathily, as best he could anyways. With glyphs of arcane nature embroidered on his cloak give off a perpetual faint blue-ish glow and his equipments slightly clanking as he went, the mage was essentially one of those decorated pine trees of Winterreach holidays. The white cloak flowing freely behind the man, uncannily deflecting thorns and branches poking out from the foliage clear off his path.

"Yup, our camp is way back that way." Said the man as he approached the other two, lifting the visor of his helm. "This is... something."

"I concur with your thoughts. I count five lightly-armed personnel. What's our course of action?" a muffled voice came from the figure in full armor, as they laid on the soil, covered by a few strands of grass and fallen leaves.

Donning the attires of the northern principality, and a thick Karelian accent, one would easily discern the knight from the Imperial legions. While it was not uncommon to see foreigners within the diverse Empire, the sight and presence of a White Guard was rather rare, as polar bear in the Darkwoods. The paladin, if anything, was rather fond of her companions, despite their contrast in tactics and choice of apparels. The Sarmanian knight kept her claymore close, while her arms dug into the ground, like a tiger making ready to leap at its prey.

"Well... Imperial Guards? Those two are wearing Imperial colours, but I don't know about the other three though." Clutching his weapon and shield close, he continued. "They could just be people, suppose we should come up and say hello?"

"Perhaps. Yet..." the paladin commented, before taking into sight of those before them.

"... their perimeter does not conform to the standard concealment drill. As well as their marching discipline... it is quite off-putting." she continued, pointing out the dereliction of the supposed Imperial from a distance. While many could not make out the faults of their company, having served alongside her Imperial peers for more than a year now, the Sarmanian captain have picked up on what made an Imperial soldier. Drills after drills, tactics and strategies may change, but the habits of an Imperial Guard never changes. To maintain their marching order and discipline, an Imperial footsman kept to themselves, and their training prevents them from trodding about in stealth. This is accompanied by their heavy gear, and unit cohesion, almost as if a monotonous wave of colliding set of metals. Before them, however, were an embodiment of lackluster discipline and poorly-set perimeter. Even so, the Sarmanian composed her thoughts, as she continued to eye the bright campfire in the distance.

"Well, only one way to find out just who they are, right?" The mage's mouth curled up into a smirk beneath his moustache. "Want me to head this expedition?"

"I thought you already are? I have your back." the paladin said, with her helmet concealing a confident smile.

The mage chuckled, thankful for his companion's confidence in him, but at the same time, nervous to see how this was going to turn out. He leaned over the other side, tugging on the wizard's sleeve. "Anything from you, Terr?"

Terrwyn didn't have the faintest clue what his companions were discussing. Perimeters, camps, the gist of it was security or something. Shooting responses back and forth, the young wizard glazed over slightly. He'd had to remind himself more than once that this was a good opportunity! But the niggling voice in the back of his head said it was more of an opportunity for an early grave. So much for a nice wage and a battle or border skirmish, Terr hadn't imagined hiding in a bush with two strangers. He supposed it was part of the deal, who knows whether the rest of the trip would be like this or getting blown to smithereens? In that regard, he preferred the bush.
"I, uh --" He itched his forehead under the impressive, well-tailored hat of his that poked slightly above the foliage. Thankfully, a muted brown and not noticable from a distance. "... I think ... that, ye know, it's a -- good idea? Innit?"

The mage cleared his throat and awkwardly glanced to and fro both paladin and fellow mage, "Total faith, a lot of it. I mean, I trust ye enough that we won't get, uh, killed .. and maybe dismembered, 'cause them swords ain't fer talkin'."

Terry continued to hold a finger up, interrupting himself. Sniffing slightly from being cooped up on the cold ground, he proceeded to open his mouth with the question you'd expect, but not quite want to answer. "I do gotta ask, how is the funeral plan for the job? Or do ye jus' kinda get..." He made a small whistle through his teeth and gestured an arc motion, "thrown into a hole? Outta interest."

"...Hopefully we won't need to worry about that. Regardless, I don't think I can sleep knowing a bunch of dodgy nobodies are right by our throats. We're doing this... Prepare something for me." The armoured mage continued. "If talks fail and they're baddies, drop something big and flashy on them. I trust you with it."
Turning back to the paladin, he said within earshot of both of his allies "It'd be nice to knock them all out in one strike, but let's try diplomacy first."

That said, the man emerged from the bush and advanced towards the mysterious campfire, weapon at the ready, though not in an aggressive stance.
"Good evening gentlemen! I'm but a weary traveler. The days are windy* and nights are cold around these parts, may I join you by the fire?" Once in range, he spoke up, prompting the dodgy strangers to snap their attention towards his direction.

Silence briefly ensued, as the campfire-men whispered something to each others, and with a flash of movement, one drew his hand crossbow, and loosed a shot at the approaching mage. The bolt sunk into his thigh with a hard thud, as the man tumbled forward, dropping down to one knee and yelled out as he brought his kite shield up. Three men in around the campfire drew their blades, the arbalest reloaded his weapon, while another one prepared some tubular object that, under the flamelight and with the mage's keen sight, seemed like a Light Hand-cannon.
"O-Oh shit! No talk! Talks failed!! HELP!!!"

One of the swordsmen charged forward with his weapon for the kill. "O Mighty Serpent of Old, send me your servants!" The armoured mage raised his morning star and chanted the words, as a bundle green vipers seemingly emerged from the end of his weapon, lunging forward fangs bared at the swordsman who reeled backwards, fighting the snakes around him in panic.
"Uh! Help, please?!"

WOOOOSH! FUP!

A whistling sound passed the multitude of men, as an elongated object found its destination within the arbalest's chest. This was followed by a muffled, yet distinct impact sound that caught the attention of the other aggressors. The paladin zoomed forth, following up on her thrown blade, and circled around the group, buying time for her companion to react, before launching herself at another. Her metallic fists marked another, of whom was aiming with the Light Hand-cannon. Driven by the fury of her indiscriminate rules of engagement, the Sarmanian knight took down the cannoneer with just her fists and martial prowess, before retrieving her retractable javelin, that quickly took form of a sword upon her hand's contact.

"Well, at least you tried." the paladin chuckled, as she stretched her arm forth, fixing her battle form upon her next target - rounding them up with her intimidating presence and attire.

With the paladin successfully captured the attention of others, the armoured mage turned to the swordsman nearby, who was struggling with the vipers now wrapped around his legs. Pointing the morning star at the bundle of snakes, "Children of the Earth Serpent, harden now, and be one with your Master." The mage channeled Light energy and chanted another spell. As he completed the incantation, the snakes on the ground gave off a dim green glow, before hardening into stone, trapping the swordsman where he stood.

Three down, two to go. The remaining swordsmen stood, on guard, though now seemingly taken back by the quick 'disposal' of their comrades.

It was at that moment, the ground suddenly shook and seemingly cracked beneath the swordsmen's foot, and columns of flame fired up, about 10ft from the surface...

(Collab between myself, Pilgrim59 and idalie )

*An Imperial call-out to determine friend or foe.

 

[Unwavering Knight]

Pryonn and Kaatl

Having finished his purification-ritual, the knight once again merrily gallivanted about, the fairy on his shoulder excitedly pointing the way forth. A colorful flower-bouquet clutched tight in his hand - gathered off the ruins and during the march home - the young errant spryly strode amongst the night-covered outpost, a characteristic spring in his step as he aimed his path with lively pace. The pale moonlight mixed with the illumination exuded by the blue sprites, casting a singularly-gleaming, nigh-eerie glow upon the knight's plates - each burnished anew after the ritual, his long-legged stride exuding a vagabond's vigour.

Spotting the one whose faith guided his steps, the knight called "My Lady!", voice sing-songing as he approached Terra "Your knight is come to make merry!" His flower-holding hand raised in greetings. Reaching her, the knight sank to his knees "I know not the ways of love..." he spoke, helmeted head hanging in shame, daring not to look upon her as he offered her the bouquet "... such were the strictures of my squiredom, and I had little time for else. But!" He held up an index-finger, helm rising in the motion of one reaching an idea "I can imagine! Love, just like goodness, requires boldness!"

Reaching around to a pouch hanging off his belt, the knight quickly retrieved the only other item he had cared to loot off the ruins after the villainous duo's felling. Holding high for Terra to see, the knight presented a small, unassuming book, its bright, golden letters reading 'Introduction to Fine Dining - how even a clueless fool can craft a meal!'

"This foliant!" the errant spoke with triumphant voice, every word teeming with puerile zip and vim "Through study, insomnolence and proper knightly audacity, it shall divulge to me its arcane secrets, that I might fashion you a repast worthy of gaining me entrance to your heart! Stomach too, but the metaphor doesn't cover that!" he added the lattermost with but the slightest dip in pep. Kaatl meanwhile eagerly rubbed her hands with a rogueish expression on her face.

Octo Girl

 

[Kabboom]

Jericho

Jericho gladly took the mulled wine offer from the general. Its taste and warmth was rather welcome, as the night had turned colder, even through his thick furcoat. He could tell, judging by the other Guardsmen on this wall huddling together. In a way, this outpost's design was ingenious; it ensured a vantage point on its surrounding territories, which also made it easily identifiable thanks to its height, which made navigation to and fro the place less of a pain, and plus, there were the walls to keep out the wind. Of course, that doesn't stop it from nearly falling to Darkborne every night. Such is the fate of front line outposts, especially in this damn forest.

Maria's question piqued his interest, though not for the reasons he'd thought. How was he doing, really? He simply looked down from the wall for an answer. His stupid expedition, of which he was unfairly made leader of. He hadn't shouldered this much responsibility in a long while, not since... well, long ago. This foolhardy group headed for Dark territory was not guaranteed to survive in the slightest, him included. And he is supposed to just lead them to their deaths in pursuit of an artifact. Just like all the other lives that had been laid low in vain, all in the fruitless pursuit of other 'war-winning artifacts' that the Empire had taken a newfound interest in. It's just like what the Guardsmen like to ask each other whenever they feel like it's not depressing enough: If there's a light at the end of this tunnel we travel through, then how many more bodies must pave the road until we reach it?

But yet, Jericho still found... joy. He found it within the way the outpost lived and breathed, that very moment: Aymeline's tired, yet lively mood brightening up the major campfires, snickering at Leafa's words, while digesting Bron's. All the other Guardsmen have joined in as well, both the outpost veterans and his own convoy's men. The newly-joined Embersworn praying on the second level, interrupted by Pat, with a smile on his face, the outpost's stone on his ass, and a big sword on his shoulder. Pryonn, with fresh (well, as fresh as one can find in the Darkwoods) flowers to offer to his maiden, Terra. Jericho couldn't exactly make out her expressions from up here, but no doubt she's swooning a bit. Or maybe not. Lunala lightly dozing off to sleep, having expended all her energy after offering to heal the outpost guards' diseases. No wonder the men look fresh, what with all their lice and blisters and sores probably expunged via holy means.

These moments make him feel... great. Bitter sweet, considering where they're going. But hey, nobody said he couldn't enjoy the moment. And with that, he found his answer. "I'm feelin' good. Yeah. How 'bout you? How're you for the night?"



While he waited on an answer, Jericho couldn't help but notice the activities of a nearby Guardsman. The soldier stared through his little wall-periscope with glaring intent, focused as all hell. His attire was something of interest, too; aside from the normal chainmail and armor plates, he had ropes tied on his body, specifically his abdomen, and pelvic area. Said rope concluded in a double knotted end, held upon the Guardsman's free hand, left purposefully close to the base of the wall, where- has that always been there? Where small protrusions of metal hook upwards to form a latch of some kind. Was this their way of ensuring no one falls off? Peculiar, but probably effective, unless said Guardsman gets hit with Aymeline's hammer.

But the Guardsman soon hollered out, almost spooking Jericho with how loud he became. The scream echoed throughout the lower courtyard, and was soon relayed up through all the levels. "Imperials over yonder!" cried these voices. For a splintering moment, every Guardsman who had ever stayed in this outpost for more than 24 hours dropped dead silent. And then erupted in a deafening roar of celebration. Men threw themselves onto their feet, abandoning their bewildered temporary reinforcements, and rushed to the battlements to catch a glimpse of the real deal. It had been such an excruciating long time since they'd seen a supply convoy.


The wagons numbered about half a dozen, and the men that came along with it, more than double that. Cavalry, infantry, gunmen, ICEs* - Jericho could even make out the faint markings of a Conqueror** squad sitting wearily inside one of the wagons, with one of the members... picking his teeth using a crossbow bolt? Seems like they're cut out for this outpost, then. And in return, the outpost welcomes them in kind; too much kind, perhaps. Almost all of the veteran Guardsmen have stormed out of the narrow entrance to embrace and hug and kiss and greet their newfound company, although not many of the reinforcements reciprocate those acts.

Out of those faces, Jericho could spot a few peculiar ones; ones that stood out. Could they be here to reinforce his expedition as well? It's ridiculous, yes, but his group has seen a fair few surprises (all those newcomers that simply wander into them, for example). A few more helping hands wouldn't hurt.

The men begin hauling their supplies into the outpost, using their backbreaking labor and lifting capability. With the wind howling along with the grunting and coordinating of the Guardsmen, vital things such as medicine, Light vials, armor plates, foodstuffs, socks, the 40 issues of 'Sarmanian Mistresses' that have been published since the last supply convoy, ammunition for guns and crossbows, and other things, were all stocked up on and accounted for in the warehouses. Quartermaster Scully verified these goods himself, and was last found skirting away with the 'Wave's Keep' special edition issue of those risqué magazines tucked in his pocket.

The veteran members then, with the onlooking confusion and amazement and terror of the recruits, hauled everything else into the outpost. Wagons were quickly disassembled, horses coerced, and random nocturnal mushrooms consumed. Within a few minutes, the band of merry men brought all 6 wagons up through the narrow opening, in the form of disassembled planks and boards, with 6 lucky guys wearing the canvases like fancy coats.

Jericho had to check these guys out.

Unwavering Knight Octo Girl Trappy Pilgrim59 SilverFlight Epiphany Soviet Panda PsychoticOne LoneSniper87 Slop Midrick -robert- Spireshade ShadeAlucard hostage idalie MrMopp

Spoiler: *

Specialized in the art of ‘construction under fire’, Imperial Combat Engineers, or ICEs, are one of the best troops an Imperial legion has. Recruited from the common ranks, with promising candidates being known for their enthusiasm and showing initiative, ICEs undergo a different breed of training. Whereas the average guardsman’s standard tactics against Darkborne are to fall back, regroup and dig in, an ICE is instructed to charge forward, disperse, dig, then repeat. They wear specially-built metal shield plates on their backs, used as a multipurpose tool. During combat, they would run up, slam the plate onto the ground as to provide them cover against projectile Darkborne, and, using a special purpose Magitech automated digging tool, dig a basic trench for guardsmen to fight in, before moving to another position to dig another. It is also not a coincidence that ICE units tend to suffer the most casualties, and as such, most ICEs inherit a morbid humor, feeling much more comfortable around the prospect of death than their normal guardsmen peers.

Spoiler: **

Inspired by the conquerors of the ancient days of the Empire, Imperial Conquerors are specially trained guardsmen deployed for tough battles, mainly known for their rapidly-advancing assault tactics. Equipped with repeating crossbows, disposable flintlocks, and upwards of 50 grenades per man, comprising of mostly Stinkmist, Hissbombs and Dappers, Conquerors are prestigious and fearsome foes on the battlefield, carving out legend after legend of man’s resilience against the oncoming Dark hordes. Recruiting promising soldiers with a quick wit, and a quicker trigger finger, Conquerors are virtually the opposite of Imperial Combat Engineers, who recruit enthusiastic and burly men. As time goes on, the Conquerors that manage to survive their numerous battles gain a most unique mark of achievement: a black powdery stain on the bottom of their dominant grenade-throwing hand that does not easily wash out, a residue of the priming spark of their grenades. Due to the contrast between them, Combat Engineers and Conquerors have a friendly rivalry between themselves, and joint-training exercises are held between the two units, with Engineers digging in and bracing against Conqueror assaults using mock-up weaponry - these fights tend to attract the most attention from the rest of the guardsmen units. In combat, however, Conquerors prove their worth as lethal attackers, effective against rebels and Darkborne alike. It is common practice among the men to engage in ‘disproportionate retaliation’ - one stray bullet or spike flung in their direction, and they will happily respond with a dozen arrows and a couple of grenades. Conquerors even have their own unofficial martial arts, which the troops have dubbed “Whoop-ass”, specializing in tackles, and quick takedowns. Any Imperial commander with a few Conquerors on his roster is almost assured victory.

 

[hostage]

Teoippe
“Excited“ wasn’t much of a word that Teo would use to describe her situation. One moment she was kneeling in a wagon, exchanging cards and chirping softly in amusement as her partner, a strong armed (and willed) woman, grumbled in frustration, the next, she was swept into the open with nothing but her cloak to keep her company. Some big men clapped her on the back, bellowing excitedly about the “new recruits“ and “magazines.“ Teo, who was quite clearly miffed about being thrown about kept silent, a frown gracing her lips. How very rude, she thought as she noticed her own game partner being embraced by another boisterous brute. The woman gave Teo a wave, smiling widely and returning a fist bump before moving away. Teo was left on the outskirts of the crowd, her head spinning and her wits not at all around her this time.

As she stood there dumbly, she noticed the battle worn group of warriors that had first been here. None of them were familiar, except for the muscled man who stood by the entrance of the outpost. She would begin to approach him when she caught a glimpse of copper flashing in the corner of her eye. Now, one would think that the metal was but a new sword that the soldier was admiring, but Teo knew that color. She crossed the crowd, all but shoving her way through as she approached the man admiring her sword.

He looked up as she stomped in front of him. “One of our reinforcements? Cool! Check out this sword! Never seen anythin’ like it in-“ he was cut off as his mind was stormed by her thoughts. “Thief! Tis’ mine own sword! Return it to me!“ Teo’s thoughts were exasperated and tired, and the soldier tipped his head. “Sorry miss, I didn’t know!“

Teo wrapped her hand around the familiar leather wrapped grip of her blade, then sheathed it. She whistled in appreciation, then shouldered her way through the crowd again. Aha! The man she had first seen was still in his place, and this time the woman insisted on approaching him. Unfortunately, her legs weren’t quite as adjusted as she had once thought. She stumbled over a log, landing with an unsatisfied “oomph“ at the man’s feet. Teo’s cheeks burned with shame as she scrambled up, trying to seem important. “Sir Jericho? Tis’ I, Teoippe, Guardian of the Gleamder Forest. I have been sent to assist you in your doings. Where shall I begin?“ As she ‘spoke’ Teoippe sent him a memory of her forest home along with the man who had sent her to meet the Guardians.
Kabboom

 

[Pilgrim59]

Vera Pavlov
Hearthfall Season - Nightfall
Expeditionary Camp, Darkwoods

Interacted: Maria / Gilligani ( Trappy )
Mentioned: N/A
​

Replacements​

KLANK!
KLANK!
KLANK!​

The resounding echoes of a distinct armored paladin announced their approach, accompanied by the lingering dirt that seems to have drowned their victim. Within the knight's grasp was a man, whose empty quivers and webbing dictates his renewed status as an august prisoner of the Imperial legion. Evident in their strengthened grip, and the emotionless visage of a winged helmet, accompanied by the silence that surmised their consolidation with the old members of the expedition were more hostile than the usual friendly faces of a common guard. The other guards quickly fell in line and took the prisoner from the paladin's hand, upon their casual release - spilling the defeated victim over to the ground. The paladin eyed what seemed like a weary group, that contrasted with the prior's immaculate armor and cloak. While the Guardians' contrasting set of attires divided their origins, they were, to say the least, united in their unspoken causes, like the cracking fires that resided within the dark forests and the estranged stars that illuminated the jet black sky.

Donning the crimson trims upon their silvery armor, alongside the enclosed armet that bore a set of obsidian horns, one could tell the estranged knight from the others. A certain enchanted gaze was procured by those that looked upon the foreign Sarmanian uniform, while to others, it was nothing short of a bizarre, yet familiar sight for a guardian - something the latter would digress. After all, the Sarmanian has yet to graduate the trials of a true guardian, but rather by mere chance of haste and indiscretion of the Imperial agendas.

Before long, the paladin paced themselves forward, bypassing the weary, yet daunted faces of the legion, as their salutes followed the white figure in droves. The animated metallic personage made their stop before the bardiche-wielded warrior, of whom was enjoying her company for the night's cold embrace. The void of eternal darkness that resided within the fissures of the paladin's visage was all but eerie to person with common sense. Before long, a lull, yet firm voice emitted from the solid, yet audible sheets of metal, as the knight clenched their fist in a resolute manner for a crisp salute.

"We've been tasked reinforcing the Guardian's Expedition. May I be bold as to inquire your name as Commander Theodosiel?"

"Pardon my ill manners..." the paladin continued, having been given a fair gesture of confirmation from the astute warrior and her company of heroes.

Locks of white unfurling hair spilled from the Sarmanian knight's helmet, as what seemed like a monotonous echo in time was now but a sultry, delicate voice of a pale siren. Her crimson eyes met Maria's, as she tilted her head in the most affectionate way. While her helmet resided beside her flanks, the maiden stretched a pridefully sweet smile. What was once an intimidating figure, laden with embellishments of the Vile's physical dereliction, was all but a mere ploy for the eyes, as the obsidian horns were intended for - and it worked for most cases.

"SAMEU* Fifth Company Kapman* Vera Pavlov. Reporting for duty!" Vera reported, with a firm voice, before turning around to induct her fellow armored mage.

The Sarmanian would go on to confess her earnest admiration for Theodosiel, having finally met the latter in person. While it has only been a year since her deployment, words of exploits and renown were no stranger to many eras of heroes and tall tales - granted rightfully upon those with attentive ears, and Vera was no slacker in said subject.

"This guy here ... is Gilligani Chotsky. We served together back in Crookenrooten Creek! Please go easy on him! Eheheh!" the girl chuckled, as the formalities began to fade away quickly, almost as if she was no stranger to the expedition.

While Vera took her time to get acquainted to the faces around her with a bright look, she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder with every slight nudge of the wind, as if they were being watched. Despite years of training, this was the first time the captain had made it far from the comforts of her warm barracks. While she was able to cope with travelling, the uneasiness that resided within the ambient void of the Darkwoods was particularly eerie and alarming for Vera. Even some of the newcomer's faces were plagued with such thoughts, so it had seemed that the Sarmanian was not alone in her endeavor. With her gauntlets curled up into a firm set of fists, Vera finally passed a gentle gulp, as she scanned the woods with much disdain in her eyes, wishing for something or someone to break her train of thoughts.


*Translation Notes:

1. SAMEU (SArmanian Marine Expeditionary Unit):
A Sarmanian Division-Sized Unit (10,000 men) commissioned and sanctioned by the Principality of Sarmania to lend aid to the Empire's struggles against the Darkbornes. The unit is tasked with joint-exercises and operations between the two nation, as well as engaging in special reconnaissance and combat operations.

2. Kapman:
Sarmanian title for Captain. Commander of a company (1,000 men).

Spoiler: Replacements Comic Strip!

 

[LoneSniper87]

Kaelynn

Made in collaboration with Pat


Kaelynn hadn't heard the steps right away, too focused in on her prayer to notice until it was far too late to stop. Her words trailed off and both of her eyes shot open a second before he spoke. She silently cursed herself for losing awareness like that, Queen above knows what would happen to her. Her eyes glinted in the flickering Torchlight as she glared at him. “Practicing, hmm? Practicing what?” She asked, drawing her dagger and pointing it to him in one fluid motion. If he so much as tried to draw that weapon on his back she'd have the knife in his arm before if got a quarter way out.


His smirk faded a little after she spoke, then she drew a dagger on him. His arms flew up to defend his vital areas and he tried pitching backwards to escape, before remembering he was on a ledge. The result was him almost falling of the battlement. He shot his arms out to grab the sides of the battlement at the last second. “Geez man, it was a joke! Cool your shit.” he yelled as he pulled himself back to a sitting position. He was pissed to say the least, falling to your death and almost being stabbed wasn't something he looked forward or enjoyed. He returned the glare she was sending his way, something felt familiar, or felt similar to the blackout he had in the ruins. He couldn't remember exactly what transpired, but he felt that it was important.


He noticed his eyes drifting down towards her che- armor. He thought, yeah, good quality leather. Ease of movement. He then noticed something else. Other than her ‘armor’ there was a bright red pendant. “What's that? Seems pretty ornate.” he said as he picked as his teeth with his nail. She was definitely an odd one for the group, But the same could be said for all of them. They certainly weren't the most normal people around. He went back to looking around, making a point to keep his eyes up.


She took a half step back, knife still clutched in her hand. “A trinket. Don't dodge my question.” She growled. She hadn’t caught his glances lucky for him. If she had she would have lost it. She kept her eyes on him, his glare doing nothing to dim the fires she felt. A quick glance cast downward showed the camp below, a jump she could easily make, but off a battlement may be tricky for her. And seeing him sit, she also kneeled, keeping her dagger in clear view. “Why do you care so much?”


“Obviously practicing begging for something.” he said. She got aggressive when he mentioned the amulet, that meant it was worth something. It seemed some sort of jade like material. He saw her eyes flit down to the camp and back to him. She wouldn't jump. He thought, maybe she could make it, but he more than likely a guardsman would be scrapping her off the stone then anything.


“Begging!?” She said, keeping her level was a strain. “You really think I'd be the kind to beg?” Her glare got worse, then faded with a sigh. “What brings you up here? You don't seem like the type who wants quiet.” She said, much calmer now as she folded her hands in her lap, dagger still in hand, but she now didn't seem nearly as ready to attack. She looked past him to the hilt of the large sword at his back for a moment before looking to him with a look that just said ‘compensating?’


“Well, I could say the same about you.” he said as he flicked something off the edge of the battlement. “With how you were fighting back in the ruins, thought you would be a little more… social than this.” he said as he spread his arms apart, referencing the isolated battlement. “The reason I'm here… well, mercenaries like myself aren't exactly well liked by guardsman, they see us as criminals being paid to kill. Also we usually get paid more than them.” he noticed the look on her face when she saw the sword “Dammit this.” he motioned to the sword. “Has practical application, you ever have to fight a pike man charging at you.” his tone was extremely exasperated. “And no, I'm not overcompensating for anything.” he rather quickly added. He was beginning to get uncomfortable the more they talked.


She merely laughed at his quick defense of the sword at his back, hiding her smile with a hand. “Sure seems like it. Big material things usually cover for much smaller… physical… matters.” She teased, slowly putting the dagger away. If he was this flustered, there was no way he was fighting her. Her glance went to the wagons pulling in now. “Appears we have company… care to size up the new blood with me?” She asked, and not waiting for a response, rose and left, patting him on the shoulder as she passed him.

 

[Trappy]

Maria

The Guardian happily passed her flask of mulled wine, then stared intently at her commander as the man seemingly got lost amidst his thoughts. A lot have transpired recently, and even her could see it might be too much a weight to bear for someone recently-appointed to a commanding post. Retrieving her flask, Maria voiced her reply to Jericho's concern.
"I'm doing fine, but there are those in our company who aren't doing as well, I'm afraid..." As she was about to take her leave, Maria added. "Regardless, remember that their sacrifices pave the path to victory - one we would walk. Dwell on it later. Now, we should focus on the quest at hand, at least this way, we can properly honour them."
--
The sun hasn't even gone up yet, when suddenly, there were calls from atop, and a convoy was moved into the outpost's yard. Only just emerged from her resting corner, Maria immediately noticed a bulky armoured figure stomping towards her, prompting Maria to enter a guarded stance, staring back at the approaching figure. Maria spoke up her answer following the armoured female's inquiry. "That I am. Maria Theodosiel, and you are...?"

As the figure, Vera, followed up, the Guardian couldn't help but noticed the language used was that of chosen words, and her introduction reflected military discipline. Alas, some educated folk - the girl relaxed. What was a tense and guarded look on her face eventually turned into a pleased expression. "Well met, Kapman, the pleasure is all mine." Maria said as she took the Sarmanian's hands. "It is good to have more allies on this journey - and I apologise for the grim words - but I fear our test can only prove more challenging from here."


Gilligani

"So yeah, help me with- Woah!"

Gil was directing a few guardsmen unloading supplies, as well as a couple other 'packages', when his cloak was suddenly tugged. With the leg wound he'd suffered the other night, plus the surprise, Gil offered little resistance, and found himself pulled under his Vera's arm, his paladin companion, and presented to- none other than the princess of Regalia herself! In these parts?! Did he accidentally signed himself some celebrities' quest without knowing?! - Questions jumped all over the mage's mind, and so, without thinking clearly, the mage stuttered as he struggled, and eventually breaking free of Vera's playful grip, before returning to deliver his proper introduction.
"I- um, uh... My apologies. Evening, your Highness. Gilligani Chotsky. I understand that my name can be a bit difficult to some, so please, call me Gil." With one hand palm-down on his chest and the other extending to his side and a bit behind, holding up the enchanted, glittering cloak, the mage gave the Guardian a proper bow, grimacing slightly as the thigh wound was still bothering him. But there's only so much magic could do to help.

Parting with the fair ladies in a grandiose exit, the mage returned to his wagon, where he found the Conqueror standing watch over the captives he'd taken the other night. He was absolutely a giant of a man, casually picking his teeth with a crossbow bolt like an absolute unit. "That can't be good for your teeth." Gil commented, to which the Conqueror's mouth curled into a big, toothy grin. Well, not much to be said about his dental, but those teeth suggested he could probably chomp that bolt sticking out of his mouth in half if he wished.
"Come on, pick up these fools and let's bring them to the commander of this lot." Gil snapped back to the work at hand, giving the giant guardsman a wave. It was then that the mage realised he hadn't seen the supposed commander of the expedition - Jericho Audaton around. While he'd never met the Guardian in person, Gil did his homework before departing Frontierville, and studied the records. Interesting figure, but one to keep an eye on.

"There. By the woman with the creepy feet, come." Gil slowly made his way across to the commander with his wounded leg, giving a proper bow in his usual fashion once Jericho had noticed his arrival, and spoke up. "Good evening, Mister Jericho. Enchanter Gil Chotsky of Wave's Keep." The man briefly paused, turning to everyone else around that seemed like part of this company he was signing in, and spoke up, louder this time. "Yes, Enchanter Gil Chotsky. Pleased to meet you all, be pleased! I look forward to offer my skills in this great quest of ours."

After giving a similar bow to everyone, the mage returned to Jericho "Anyways, good Sir. I bring you bandits, fresh from the road. I leave you to hand down their sentence." Gil paused briefly as a friendly smile formed across his face before continuing. "Hopefully your journey here was more uneventful than ours?"

Once that business is tended to, Gil stood idly by the wagons, occasionally assisting the unload of heavier supplies with his magic. On top of that, the man carefully watched the people he would soon call comrades, carefully evaluated each and every one present when the convoy arrived.

Mentioned: Pilgrim59 hostage + Anyone around.
Interacted: Kabboom Pilgrim59

 

[ShadeAlucard]

Jazmin

Jazmin looks around as the wagons pull into where they were supposed to be. 'oh no, lots of people' Jazmin thought to herself as she sees loads of people heading towards them. She knew that with the wagons was a bunch of materials that came with them, but still hated the fact that she may have to interact with people she didn't know, and ones that were much larger in size than she was. Jazmin quickly and quietly got out of the way of the others and tries to go find out whom they were to report to by trying to find the one she figured would be in charge of everything.


Alex

Alex saw that the wagons had reached their destination and walks off of it, carrying supplies in his arms. He held his head up proudly to be a part of this caravan, it had been so long since he had the opportunity to fight off the Darkborne. Since the last time he fought them, he had changed drastically and always hid his face. He wasn't able to carry much of the supplies though unfortunately, due to his legs which were slightly crippled due to his abilities. He walked forward, carrying a box under one arm and using his cane to keep himself steady in the other arm. Alex looked around and followed where everyone else was taking the supplies, maybe he would find the organizer there

 

[PsychoticOne]

Name: Vik Gonkor
Race: Half-Orc
Height: 5'9
Weight: 178 lbs

Current Status: Healthy
Gear: Light armor, backpack, bow, shortsword, arrows, poison vials
Current Physical Abilities: Archery, one-handed combat, brawling
Current Magical Abilities: None

Members of this group of reinforcements did several different things to occupy themselves. Some socialized and played games while others kept to themselves whether it was by daydreaming or writing down updates into their journals. Vik happened to be within the latter. For the majority of the trip, Vik napped at his spot of the wagon. He had his arms crossed and kept his chin tucked towards his chest. Once the wagon stopped and people started to disembark, Vik immediately removed his helmet to rub his eyes. People were unloading, so there wasn't really time to stretch and lollygag around. He kept his mask off, attaching it onto his belt and letting the accessory hang from his left side.

Once off, Vik readjusted his backpack until it was a tight fit. He'd then start grabbing a crate at the time and transporting them where other adventurers were piling up the supplies. He didn't really worry about organizing. Somebody else could do all of that. For now, Vik figured he should be the muscle that helps move everything.

However, midway into his current duty, Vik stopped to take a look at all the other people he was currently allied with. They all seem very... diverse. Vik wasn't too confident in himself after taking a look at everybody. He felt pretty damn expendable, but it wasn't going to worry him. It wasn't like he was going to have much potential based on where he's from. The least he could do now is to not be the first one to die.

Vik immediately started to shake the negative thoughts away from his head. Yeah, he definitely had flaws, but for now he should focus on being useful to the group. Otherwise, there was no reason for the orc to accept the job in the first place. He continued unloading supplies until he had enough piled up. There were others still unloading, but they didn't need everyone to continue it. Vik looked for any type of authoritative figure and hollered towards them. "Would it be a good idea to start unpacking?" the half-orc asked. In all honesty, he didn't know anything about most of the items packed up. Otherwise he would have started unpacking on his own. From the looks of it, there's a lot of crap with good information for some people here. A lot of things that helps against Darkborne too.

Unfortunately, Vik hasn't had too many run ins with Darkborne. Well, at least the strong ones. Most of the time, Vik would have kept himself hidden and taken them out with stealth. Otherwise, the former slave lacks in experience when dealing with the beasts.

 

[Pilgrim59]

Vera Pavlov
Hearthfall Season - Nightfall
Expeditionary Camp, Darkwoods

Interacted: Maria / Gilligani ( Trappy )
Mentioned: N/A
​

Re: Treatment
Written with: Trappy ​

As the armored mage parted ways, Vera couldn't help but notice the dereliction of his limbing steps. What Gilligan had concealed beneath his preoccupied visage and gesture was all but unveiled by the campfire's light. The Sarmanian saluted Maria, before departing after the studious and attentive mage. For hindsight, the girl was somewhat guilty and remorseful of failing to catch her friend's affliction, despite their shared histories.

"Were St. March's blessing falling short? What's wrong with your leg?" asked Vera, as she tucked her arms in between Gilligan's, aiding his movement.

"Ah, couldn't hide it from you huh?" the mage chuckled, and for a moment, giving in to the assistance generously provided by the paladin, before fixing himself up right again. "Took a shot from one of those bandits the other night. Well, I suppose the Saint could only get you so far, it might take a bit to fully heal. It's what I get for not paying attention during lectures about these powers, I suppose."

"I'm not a believer, but I'll take all the help I can get. It would do me right if you had said something. Come. Let me see." Vera sighed slightly, settling the man down upon a vacant log, as she snapped her fingers rapidly, cueing the man to light up the scene for her to check on his wounds.

Despite some initial instinctual resistance and hesitation, Gil gave in, sitting comfortably on the log and as Vera gave the gestures, the mage lifted his hand and mumbled a few words, tracing an invisible symbol in the air in front of him. Almost immediately, what seemed to be a flock of pixies rushed out from his glittering cloak, and hovered around the duo, decently lighting up the area around them with a faint blue light.

"There we go, they're nice... Well, please, do your magic. I'll take the help if you're offering. It does feel quite embarassing, limbing up to these people like I was doing."

"Not the best first impression, but we all have our faults. This ..." Vera paused, as she examined Gil's leg, having removed his shin guard.

"... heh. This is nothing compared to Crookenrooten. Just some minor scrapes and bruises." she chuckled, before going through her little pouch.

"...It does sting quite a lot."

"It will sting a whole lot more if you keep walking around like that. I'm no doctor, but I wouldn't want to carry this with me. Don't worry, you'll live."

"Ouch. Hopefully. I'm not exactly keen on being known for having the shortest ballad of adventurers." Gil said as he leaned back, leaving and entrusting the work to his companion.

The Sarmanian's swift hands quickly got to work, as she tore open a pouch laden with salista*, before applying it to ease the pain. As her left hand administered pressure to Gil's afflicted area, her right would actively complement her field care. With the help of Gil's magic, the paladin was able to see better, rather than treating in the dark. The two were aiding each other, no matter how others had perceived it, at least Vera thought so. She was no more stronger than her peer, and vice versa. In the end, it was the thoughts and bred acts that counted.

As Vera discerned herself of these thoughts, she quickly applied a gauze in between her left hand, before wrapping up his leg with a roll of linen bandages. A subtle ring could be heard, as her sheathed claymore extended into a dagger. Vera cut loose the secured bandages, and proceeded to save the rest within the confines of her pouch. Slinging her dagger for a brief second, the paladin finally sheathed her weapon and extended her hand towards Gil.

"It ain't much, but that should keep ya on your feet. If it's one thing I know, magic can't do thus. Hehe. Leave the heavy lifting to me!" she said.

"Ack. Not my magic anyways. Thanks for the patch though, Vera. You saved my leg and pride tonight." Gil stood up slowly, getting used to the work done on his leg. It certainly felt tougher, more secure than before, and the salista worked like a blessing with the pain.

(I could say the same) she mumbled under her breath.

"Well, I can help with some stuff too. My leg is hurt, not my mouth or hands. You gotta keep a mage busy with something." The man chuckled, glancing about for some menial jobs he could probably help with.

"Tell ya what. With that tongue of yours, why don't ya butter up the rest of the Ol' Breeds*? I'm sure we'll need a few tidbits and tips to get out of this forsaken woods alive." Vera chuckled, as she lifted a crate from a nearby wagon to help expedite their unpacking routine. Of course, some of the "goods" were more distasteful than others, as the Sarmanian scowled at the sight of a hidden stash of Sarmanian Mistress, upon her movement of the crate.

"Oo, that's some interesting read..."

"I'm sure it would help facilitate your magical research, isn't that right?" Vera glared at Gil, with a thousand daggers sprouting from her crimson eyes.

"Heh..." The mage put up both his hands, tactically back up and dodge the query, noticing Vera's glare. "Hey, you're welcome to start Sarmanian Gentleman for the ladies."He jested.

"Very funny." Vera sighed, before breaking into laughter.



*Translation Notes:

1. Salista:
A type of plant, commonly found around the world. Usually grounded for medical purposes. Typically used on wounds with healing spells as antibiotics and local anesthetics. A counterpart for real-life sulfanilamide powder with morphine, but does not act on the central nervous system like opiate. Salista only suppress the pain emitting from the affected area with the guidance of healing spells.

2. Old Breed:
One of the nicknames for the First group of Guardians.

 

[Octo Girl]

Terra looked at Pryonn like he had gone crazy. "Okay......" She said, a bit confused as she was bombarded by Pryonn only minutes after waking up. "Although that sounds.... good.... you wouldn't even know what to make..." She said with a shrug. "Also... didn't I say that you should call me Terra? I'm not really into that whole, 'My lady" thing... Just... don't think it fits me.." She said a bit more quiet as she went into an embarrassed sort of stance, but still somehow kept her previous composure. Terra shook her head and went back into her more serious outlook. "So, how is everyone holding out?" She asked him, then glared at Kaatl a bit after seeing her expression.
Unwavering Knight

 

[Epiphany]

Aymeline

SilverFlight -robert-
Bron's attentiveness was a pleasant surprise for Aymeline. Hearing a bit about his past was also illuminating, in a surprisingly familiar way. The Giant nodded slowly and said, "I'm glad that I've never had to avoid marriage proposals. My own kind don't find me particularly attractive; not enough hair." She smirked. "And for humans, size is obviously an issue for most. But I haven't minded the freedom. Like you, I wanted to do more. And I can, serving as a member of the Guardians."

The revelation that Leafa was on her own caused the Giant to frown in concern. How could a girl that young just...be here, without any parents or guardians? Still, they'd be under attack soon enough and Bron's advice was good; the safest place for Leafa to be was by them.

"I'm Amyeline," she said to Leafa just after Bron. Fishing through her pack, she came up with a Giant-sized piece of jerky, and offered it to the elf. "I don't know if you have food with you but, if you don't, I have a pack full of this. Help yourself."

Bron's last question was a more serious one, and Aymeline stopped distracting herself with personal histories and adorable little elf girls. Leaning back on her haunches, Aymeline stared into the fire for a moment. "Why do the Darkborne attack anywhere? Because people are there. Living beings carry the Light within them. It's something they can smell, something that attracts and repels them at the same time. Depression, anger, fear, these emotions are powerful lures. Guardians are trained to resist these feelings, for protection and for attack. But to the average soldier, hounded night after night, they lose a little more hope every day...and that just makes them more delicious prey to what waits out there."

Kabboom
Almost as if on cue, the cries of Imperials spotted had the opposite effect on the outpost. It rallied hopes, lifted spirits and everywhere there were smiles. For Aymeline as well, who rose wearily to her feet, craning her neck to peer over the walls at the approaching caravan. Then she glanced back at Bron and Leafa and offered them an apologetic smile. "Time for me to earn my keep once more. I'll be back in a minute."

Stepping up to the walls of the Outpost, Aymeline bent her knees and leaped. At nearly ten feet of height, she climbed up the garrison onto its battlements before dropping back down outside. With her hands spread wide, the Giant beamed at the caravan's guards and said "You've come a long way. Let me make this a little easier for you." With those words, Aymeline picked up the heaviest crates and barrels and simply set them atop the battlement wall, stack by stack until she and they had emptied its contents into the Outpost. Then she once more vaulted up the walls, dropped down the other side and started fetching provisions from where she'd stacked them on the battlements, setting them in the courtyard one by one. Any other place would need a pulley and rope system but her sheer height and strength gave her enough reach to do the work speedily.

Seeing the new recruits already conversing with Jericho, Aymeline returned to Bron and Leafa by the fire, knowing they'd meet the extra help soon enough.

hostage Pilgrim59 Trappy ShadeAlucard PsychoticOne
While Aymeline isn't directly interacting with any of the new arrivals, seeing a Giant hop the walls to unload the caravan may or may not be something your characters want to react to, entirely up to you.

 

[Midrick]

His mouth open to protest when she laughed at him, color rising in his face. He was to embarrassed. She relaxed and invited him to go check out the newcomers. She patted his shoulder as she passed, he was at a loss for words. Once she was out of sight and earshot. He face palmed. "argggh, damn." he slowly said. What the hell just happened. he thought. Whenever he was around guys he wouldn't think anything of it. But when she said it, he felt like he walked into a market plaza without pants. After composing himself as best he could.

He walked down the stairs, and made sure Kaelynn wasn't near him as he approached the wagons and helped the guardsman unload supplies from the wagon. his attention was drawn to a crate of dirty mags. "Life that rough out here huh?" he asked one of the guardsman unloading too. "Brother, I've been stationed here for six months, and up until now, these are the first women I've seen... intimately." he said as he pointed at the magazines. "Well shit, at least you have a diverse selection to accompany you tonight." he said as the guardsman gave a hearty laugh. As he finished moving the last of the crates , he noticed someone laughing. He cocked his head around the wagon to see two of the new arrivals. He decided to make his way over to the duo. "Hey, Anfagen*, everything good?" he said as he approached the pair. Seeing that the man with a leg injury being worked on by the knight, he looked where the mage was wounded. "Wow, not even a day in and you still got wounded, you got a long night ahead of you." he said as he offered his hand to yank the guy up, "And you, you might want to take a tour of this place or somethin, we're gonna have a fight on our hands pretty soon." he said to the knight in full plate.


Translation*

Anfagen: The Kesse word that translates to newb, new man, or rookie.


Pilgrim59 Trappy

 

[Pilgrim59]

Vera Pavlov
Hearthfall Season - Nightfall
Expeditionary Camp, Darkwoods

Interacted: Pat ( Midrick )
Mentioned: N/A
​

​

"If that's the case, we'll manage. SAMEU Fifth Company Commander Vera Pavlov. To whom do I have the pleasure of such a friendly appraisal?" Vera saluted the unreserved, yet cordial warrior.

She studied the man for a bit, catching familiar sentiments as those that served in her company. The man possessed a certain look and gesture of soldier, with his occasional slouches and parallel angling of his feet. His rigid, yet respectful demeanor, accompanied by his rugged, but practical attire were all but peculiar. Even so, it was an understatement to say that he was different, as Vera looked around at the sight of the First Echelon's diversity. The paladin studied his face, contemplating the dreary, but functional pair of brown eyes, as well as his unshaven beard, before settling her eyes on the elongated blade that was sheathed behind his back. Its glimmering appearance was all but in contrast with the man's gray attires, while the scent of freshly riveted hilt was evident of its recent construction. Intrigued by his choice of weapon, as well as her curiosity for advocates of the traditional arms of war, Vera couldn't help but hinted the man's recent accumulation of his double-handed sword.

"Striking blade you've got there, I must profess. Yet it seems quite foreign for someone of your stature..." Vera continued, as she leaned back with her arms folded.


*Translation Notes:
N/A

 

[Kabboom]

Scully

"So whaddya think, lad?" The old man shot out a light question at the Lieutenant furrowing his eyebrows. Scully was busy making some adjustments and modifications to the fresh supplies of armor and weaponry, or more specifically, making them actually useful. Extra latches and hooks bolted on for utility purposes, along with sturdier straps, scraps, and plates added to the chest, groin, forearm, and most importantly, the head areas. The swords were sanded down at the base, where the steel meets the cross-guard, to facilitate ease of carrying, handling, and combat maneuvering in the outpost's inner corridors, should the need ever arise; the spears and halberds were sharpened at the tip, and padded with plucked rat hairs using tape-paste adhesive in order to stop liquid Dark ooze and/or blood from running down the shaft and ruining grip strength.

Scully focused lazily, with the experience of a thousand smithing nights to guide his hand, as he tries to guess what's running through Lieutenant Finn's mind instead. The silent yet deadly swordsman had been here for as long as he's been, although he's never quite caught Scully's eye like he did now. The man's usually hollow eyes, now moved like a hungry predator's, as he scans the reinforcements, and his own men as well. Is he like this when he's fighting as well? Regardless, Scully had to repeat his question, for the first one had apparently went in the Lieutenant's ear and straight out the other one - er, what's left of the other one. This time, Finn responded.

"Pretty good. But this late? Fremmy's slipping up, or we're puncturing. Dunno which, but hope it's just Fremmy. Regulars look good, might need smacking 'round, but otherwise good for guard." Finn drifted off at the end. That couldn't be good.

"...And?" the Quartermaster pushed, as he snatched a rat just before it taste-tested his Sarmanian Mistresses magazine in his 7th back pocket.

"It's a 'but', not 'and'. The Gs aren't that good. That back-footed one talking to the new commander. Don't look like she's gonna be too useful in a sprint." Finn gestured at Teoippe, carefully scanning her appearance. "Shady one over there. Unsure, but you know shadies." The Lieutenant quickly switched his gaze to Alex, who was busy carrying a box. "And those two over there. Whitey and mage." he finished, pointing at the duo of mage and White Guard, currently conversing with that Pat guy.

"How'd you reckon that's a Whitey?" Spoke Scully.

"C'mon, Sculls. White armor? White hair? Thick ass? Only Whiteys have that. This one at least looks competent. The last Whitey we saw here..." Finn continued. "...Yeah, you don' needa' remind me, sonny." Scully interrupted. The last Sarmanian G that showed up here blew up the entrance doors by accident, and also the answer to the source of Scully's rats, but hey, at least they didn't have to deal with him anymore. Wasn't that good of a Guardian anyway, the sod. Plus, the men aren't too miffed about Samis anymore. They make good ale, good women, and good comrades. Although they really should change their uniform colors up. White's too bland for his taste.

"Well as all things be doin', goo'luck to ya, Fins. I'll be preppin the-"

"You guys need a hand?" A third party showed up, taking the form of a brown-haired Guardsman. Although, upon closer inspection, his lanky yet toned build, as well as his lighter cuirass as opposed to the Guardsmen's plate, suggests this newcomer was a scoutsman instead. "Name's Clanus, in case ya' askin'. Jus' wonder'd if I could make myself more useful here."

Before Scully could make the poor guy hold his rats for him, Finn spoke up. "Yeah, you can help. Stay." The Lieutenant shifted over. "What's the commander's game plan for tonight? Does he have one?"

"Jericho? Yeah, he's got one. Don' worry, Lt. He's got that funky telepathy thing, he'll tell y'all whatta do when the Darkies come."

Unsatisfied, Finn followed up, picking an imaginary bit of food out of his teeth. "Heard he was in charge of a Team once. Got 'em all killed. You sure he's got one?"

The scoutsman steeled himself, as his eyes narrowed. A small silence lasted between the two. "Yes. He does."

"... All right. Thanks for helpin'. Dismissed." Finn nodded to the scoutsman, who briefly gave him a salute before slouching away.

"Wain't you a lil' hard on that kid, Fins? Commander's a G after all. He knows what 'e's doin'. Remember this noon?" Scully interjected.

"I remember. But guess we'll see."


Jericho Audaton

“Sir Jericho? Tis’ I, Teoippe, Guardian of the Gleamder Forest. I have been sent to assist you in your doings. Where shall I begin?“ This was not really the conversation he'd expected to have, but well, telepathy it is. Shrugging off the initial weirdness of disembodied voices in his head, Jericho replied. "Thank you for joining us, uhh, Teoippe. What are you capable of, first? The size of your reinforcements?"

A few prisoners were dropped off near his area, along with a dark-complexioned mage introducing himself as Gilli... what's with the names in this second group? Jericho only knows Teoippe thanks to the telepathic nature of the message, but now? Audaton isn't too sure he can even pronounce half of these peoples' names on the first try. Regardless, this Gil man is an Enchanter, and he's got prisoners. "Hopefully your journey here was more uneventful than ours?" 'If only he knew', thought Jericho. The prisoners will be dealt with later, however.

Spoiler: Guardsman slang

Whitey: slang for Sarmanian
Fremmy: Local nickname for the logistical department in charge of assigning logistics in the Frontiersville region
Puncturing: A puncture within the defense lines, usually caused by Darkborne breakthroughs
Regulars: Normal soldiers
G: Guardians
Shady: Shady people, usually cloaked, known for suspicious and dubious powers and abilities

hostage Trappy Pilgrim59 ShadeAlucard

 

[ShadeAlucard]

Jazmin

As Jazmin attempted to go find a guard to ask where she was needed to go, she noticed a large shadow fall over the outpost and looks up and immediately freezes in her tracks. She noticed a giant jump over the walls of the outpost and was helping the caravans unload their gear, but that didn't mean she wasn't terrified of them. She tried to shake it off, but couldn't take her eyes off of the giant and couldn't seem to move, she stood there, clutching her staff in a white knuckle grip and shaking uncontrollably as she just stared at the creature.


Alex

Alex continued to walk over to where the supplies wee being dropped off. once he reached it, he set it down gently and stood up, looking around to find the closest guard. "Excuse me guardsmen, whom do the new recruits report to?"

"report to Jericho, the short guy with a golden halberd. he won't be hard to miss"

"thank you" Alex said as he went off to find this Jericho, which was interrupted as he looked up to see a giant jump the damn outpost walls. Alex got into a battle stance, but seeing no one else was attacking it and also realizing it was helping unload the caravans, he went back to a normal stance and continued to look for the one named Jericho. About a minute later, he finally found him and went over and stood proudly. "are you the one they call Jericho?" Alex asked "if so, my name is Alex Alucard, one of the recruits that came from the caravan."

Kabboom

 

[LoneSniper87]

Kaelynn

Her pace down the battlement was brisk, but she looked at Pat already ahead of her, seeing as she took the long way. Maybe she should of just hopped the wall. She finds the caravan and the giant helping the offload it. She also noticed the woman standing with her staff in a death grip, frozen stiff. She made her way over with a concerned look and stepped fully in front of her. "Miss, are you alright? You must be new... She won't hurt anyone, trust me... Granted I'm not that well established here either... I'm Kaelynn." She said, hopefully taking her mind off giant.
ShadeAlucard

 

[ShadeAlucard]

Jazmin

Jazmin was still stricken with absolute fear when someone walked in front of her and her gaze slowly moved to the person and she slowly started to gain control of herself again. She barely made out what the woman said before she gained complete control and then fell to her knees sobbing. "im...im sorry. I...I just have a...Fear of things much larger than me." Jazmin said as she looked up at Kaelynn. "you have a very pretty name though, im sorry...you have to meet me...in such a mess. Im...Im Jazmin" She managed to get out in between hiccups and sobs. 'my first day here and already, im a mess' Jazmin thought to herself

LoneSniper87

 

[LoneSniper87]

Kaelynn

Kaelynn smiled softly as Jazmin and sat with her. "It's perfectly fine. I'm here to help anyway, Jazmin." She responded. "What are you? You don't have the look of a swordsman about you? A mage, perhaps?" She asked, anything to help take her mind off of the giantess. "By the way, Jazmin is a pretty name too." She added with a smile, the ears a top her head perking up as she smiled.

ShadeAlucard

 

[ShadeAlucard]

Jazmin

Jazmin shakes her head. "i mean, i am a healer...not a very...good one but a healer none the less." Jazmin said as she then noticed the ears on top of Kaelynn's head and her eyes went wide. "wait....what...what kind of ears are those!?!?" Jazmin said in absolutely awe, she had never seen anyone other than humans in her entire life

LoneSniper87

 

[PsychoticOne]

Name: Vik Gonkor
Race: Half-Orc
Height: 5'9
Weight: 178 lbs

Current Status: Healthy
Gear: Light armor, backpack, bow, shortsword, arrows, poison vials
Current Physical Abilities: Archery, one-handed combat, brawling
Current Magical Abilities: None

It didn't seem like there was a clear answer to Vik's previous questioned. The half-orc would let out an annoyed "Tsk" before deciding to take action on his own. There were still supplies being unloaded and dropped off at the pile the half-orc resided by. If he really wanted to, he could leave the rest to the recruits still unloading, but Vik felt it was more necessary to help them out. That way it makes things quicker.

Unloading was going to be fine though, so Vik decided to organize the supplies which made the layout look nicer and more organize. Slave habits die hard. After opening up the crates, Vik had an idea how to set everything up. He moved weapons aside before creating a spot for armor. Eventually he moved onto magical equipment, ammunition, crafting supplies, and healing supplies. It was a basic set up that was made with haste. At least now it's already organized for whoever is in charge.

Now that Vik thought of it, shouldn't he find whoever his new boss is? The half-orc looked up and jumped at the sight of one of the soldiers. It was a woman, a strong woman. The thing that stood out the most was her height. ( Epiphany ) "We have giants helping us?" the orc mumbled in disbelief. He was dumbfounded by the sight. "Glad she's on our side" he commented, followed by a chuckle as she left the area.

Vik ended up reverting back to his previous thought. He ended up wandering around nearby the supplies, looking lost as he stretched his arms. "Uh... who the hell do I talk to?" he questioned himself out loud. The orc didn't know jack shit about anything here, so it's no wonder he looked like a lost pup.

 

[Trappy]

Gilligani

As Gil pondered on Vera's suggestion of hitting up some of the First Group and get some tips or favours out of them, he couldn't help but notice a looming shadow approaching near where he was, as a giant, seemingly female, proceeded to help sorting through and relocating supplies brought from the convoy to wherever they were designated to be. Always an impressive sight, these creatures - such intimidation and strength! Gil was well educated on the race, the discrimination they face in various circles of the Empire was hard to miss, but more important to Gil - their nature. The giants' affinity with Light energy was renown among the educated and practitioners of the arcane. The man wore a contemplating look as he thought on about the possibility of syphoning the giantess's vigour to boost his capabilities in these lands, where spell-casting will only become increasing laborious the further they stray from the Network's embrace. Channeling powers from other living sources wasn't exactly Gil's forte, though his repertoire of spells may allow a little bit at a time. Perhaps that's a good thing, it would be more manageable for the Enchanter, and plus, that would minimise the chances of the giant discovering his work. This one, while still towering over everyone at the outpost, did seem quite small comparing to the usual giant-kin, to Gil's experience. Perhaps a subspecies, or a half-breed?

The Enchanter thought on and on. In fact he was so deep in thoughts that he did not notice a swordsman approaching them, only until the stranger openly announced his arrival that Gil was snapped back to reality. The mage gave the warrior before him a thorough look, measuring the man carefully and noting the great sword he had on him, before accepting the warrior's offer and took his hand, standing up from the log. Pain shot through Gil's leg as he was yanked up, but a fraction comparing to the untreated wound. The salista was doing its wonders, and the mage silently thanked the paladin for that.
Following Vera's introduction and conversation, Gil replied to the warrior's comment earlier.
"It's what I get for trying to reason with strangers in the woods, lesson learned . . . " Gil paused a bit, gazing off into the night sky dotted with stars, and the darkness currently enveloping the outpost, feeling a slight nervousness building in him. "I'm not fond of long nights, but I suppose I'm in good hands. That's an interesting blade you have, if I may say a bit 'gnarly'. I could give it some work, with your consent, as a gift from the Anfagan." He chuckled, before continuing. "Enchanter Gil Chotsky, be pleased, Sir . . . ?"

As he waited on the warrior's response, Gil noticed another from the convoy he's travelled with, seemingly half-orc, with a large hunting bow across his torso, looking awfully lost. The mage raised his hand and waved at the individual, yelling out to him.
"Here, come join us friend! I don't think there's much to do until dawn arrives anyways."

Mentioned: Epiphany Pilgrim59
Interacting: Midrick PsychoticOne

 

[Epiphany]

Aymeline

The mixed reaction of the newcomers to seeing a Giant drop in their midst resulted in an apologetic smile from said Giant. Aymeline gave the arrivals a curious look but made no move to approach them directly, except to help with unloading the supplies from the caravan. When done, she vaulted up the wall before turning back to the orc and giving him an amused smile ( PsychoticOne ). Evidently her hearing is excellent.

Knowing they'd need to check in with the outpost commander to get squared away first, Aymeline dropped heavily back to the ground by the fire before glancing back at the new warriors, saying to Bron and Leafa, "It's nice to have more help here. Especially given we'll be attacked tonight. I wonder how many Guardians there are? Or what abilities they have?"

SilverFlight -robert-

 

[Unwavering Knight]

Pryonn and Kaatl

"We returned from gloriousely victorious battle!" the knight jubilantly answered Terra's question, cooking-book clutched to his breastplate "Though some of our numbers were lost - some killed, some apparently departed by their own measures in quietude, curiousely enough..." he trailed off, pondering the implications of their group's apparent revolving-door-recruitment policy. Shaking off the doubts as to the validity, the knight instead continued to address the incruscan, tilting his head in wonder at her apparent perturbation "Why would the title and status of 'Lady' not fit you? Sweet sovereign of my captive heart, whenever I see you, I see heaven! Whenever you speak, I hear an angel whisper!"

Free hand on his heart beside the cooking-book, the knight's declarations rang loud and unembarrassed over the outpost "Lady Terra! Your name to me is half a prayer, half a song! And troubles take wing for he who can sing! And I will sing happily, proclaim your name for all to hear, whether in battle or peace, that they too might find trouble's release!"

Kaatl, ever silent, returned Terra's glare with a carefree smile. Only when the catgirl's attention appeared fully drawn upon the knight did but the slightest appearance of a wolfish grin flash over her angelic features.

Octo Girl