The Raven Marches

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  1. #1

    The Raven Marches

    After receiving armor and basic traveling equipment the fifteen new recruits are ushered out to a courtyard where they can make out a few worn training posts and a well with an attached copper drinking ladle. Many of the recruits look petrified in ill fitting armor, clearly simple folk hoping for a new start in this bastion of civilization in the wilds. However, some of the recruits seem to be of a different breed.

    After a few minutes tall heavyset man wearing heavy banded mail moves out into the barracks courtyard and makes a beeline for the new recruits. He appears to be almost completely covered in freckles with only a few patches of pale skin visible on his chubby cheeks.

    “H'alright you reprobates, I'm Sgt. Bremen, if you earn it you can call me Freck, and I will be your commanding h'officer for this little h'excursion. Well? Lets be seeing you then. Give me your name and tell what, if anything, you think you're capable of. Come on, we don't have all bleeding day!”

    Despite his harsh words the Sgt can't quite pull of the bullying attitude he seems to be going for, he gives reassuring winks to a few of the more timid recruits and his tone seems more than a little forced. He waits, tapping a foot impatiently, for the recruits to speak up.

    This is a closed game I'm afraid folks. Fire up those keyboard everyon who is signed up.

    The Raven Marches
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    Last edited by Halford; Saturday, 28th June, 2008 at 06:42 AM.


  • #2
    After a few moments of silence, a pale elf clad in a chain shirt takes an uncomfortable step forward. His movements are graceful, but he lacks the beauty and poise of a stereotypical member of his race. "Seeing as no one else wants to start, I suppose I can. I am called Ainel, and I believe I have some basic training with most weapons." His hands shift on the eight-foot-long pole topped by a sword blade that he carries.

    "Like many of my illustrious kind, I have studied a little magic, though I am probably not quite up to the exertions of a dedicated mage. I know at least enough to identify the different types of magic. I hope that my skills and abilities will be of use to our unit."

    With this somewhat confusing disclaimer, Ainel steps back into line.
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  • #3
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    Following the other elf, K'inta takes a step foreward and is just able to supress the urge to shiver. The temperature here is not like where she came from, and she is still not quite used to it.

    "I've got some skills with healing, sir. I'm also capable of helping others" she makes a vague gesture towards the other recruits "As for close combat, I am not defenseless." I hope.. She lifts her shield and attempt a grin. Anyone who can see her face will realize it's forced, and that she obviously doubt if her claim is true.

    Taking a step back, re-joining the line, she draws a deep breath to calm herself. I so hate it when all eyes are on me.

    I'll be using the color Dark Orange for speech, and Yellow in Italicsfor thoughts.
    Last edited by Rayex; Wednesday, 4th June, 2008 at 01:18 PM.

  • #4
    "My name's Gillian, I kin shoot better'n any here, and dissapear before ya know what hit ya!" A few heads turned to look for the voice, but couldn't find the woman... she must be damned good at hiding..
    "Down here you big oafs!" OH.. never mind. just short.
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    A dwarf in obviously adequate breastplate takes a pace forward. The beard a little grimy, some of the gear not at its best, but a heavily armoured dwarf for sure - particularly for these parts! The trademark dwarven waraxe held in the warrior's right hand is the main focus of onlookers. It looks like it may actually have been used at some point.

    "Dowkan Jarrand," he says gruffly. "And I like goblins. For breakfast!" he adds with a sneer before taking a pace back.
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  • #6
    A pair of gangly youths, obviously brothers, step forward.

    "I'm Brud"

    "'N I'm Mekin"

    "Hoptallow." They finish in unison.

    "We can fight some with our slings and quarterstaffs, used to look after da's flock 'n all." Brud adds boldly, his adams apple bulging with embarresment at having to talk in front of so many people.

    "'Cept'in thanks to those goblins da' ain't got no flock no more." Mekin finishes.

    The Sgt. gives the lads a reassuring grin.

    "Well there lads, we'll put you to good use. Much more exciting killing goblins than sheperding in anycase! We'll show them they what happens to those who take h'our flocks! Isn't that the truth of it Jarrand? You look like you've had a goblin or two for breakfast before and the Crimson Hawks will h'not let you go hungry for long.

    Ainel, I'll need your second name if you've got one h'we go by them in this mans army. I'm a polearm man meself so I know how effective a glaive can be, we'll take what magic we can get to, glad to have you.

    Gillian, I'll be needin' the second name, glad to have you. I've seen your folk castrate sheep from half a mile away with a sling so I shall be h'expectin' great things."

    The Sgt. turns to to K'inta.

    "Healings great Miss, but I'll be needin' a name else you'll be stuck with medic! Any diety we might h'ought to be h'offerin' up a prayer to for thanks in h'advance?

    Right then, come on you horrible bunch, speak up!"

  • #7
    "My name is Derek Miller." A young human male speaks up. "I'm afraid I have no special talents, but a knack for finding and disarming traps."
    He wears traveling clothes, a chain shirt and a cloak. He carries a backpack and a bow at his back and a sword at his side.
    Last edited by Walking Dad; Wednesday, 4th June, 2008 at 09:54 PM. Reason: second name

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  • #8
    "A second name? Well, I s'pose som'a you big folk call me little red, though I aint likin that one bit an... Oh, you mean my family's name? Well I'm from the Thunderhill Tribe." Gillian crosses her arms smiling.

    Now that people know where to look, She is a tall(Well, for her race) woman with strong-looking arms and long flowing red hair. She wears some of the finest leather armour any of the recruits have ever seen and carries an (obviously never-used) axe on her back.
    The customary halfling sling sits on her right hip.. with another at her left, 'just in case'.

    She carries no visible supplies.
    Intelligence is the capacity to understand old Ideas.
    Imagination is the ability to come up with New Ideas.

    Eagles may soar, but Weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.

    This isn't evil! You're just a bunch of NERDS!

  • #9
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    Medic, eh. Doesn't sound too bad, now does it... Oh well.

    "My appologies. My name is K'inta Leruithil. As for prayers, I am sure Ehlonna will be pleased. Oh, and I don't eat goblins. They tend to get stuck in my teeth..."

    Suprised by her own joke, she gasps and her eyes widen.

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    The golden robed elf steps forward begrudgingly. He is slumped over in a perpetual mope and doesn't even raise his eyes to the commander. "I suppose you can call me Thalmarose - Oberith if it matters. I guess I'm a useless wizard that couldn't burn the hair off a bugbear's arse. I do sort of well with my old bow here," indicating his supple ashwood bow with the closest thing to pride that anyone has seen from the sullen, silver haired elf.
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