Off to War [IC]

Hralfgar makes his way in the dark more easily, contemplating on what his father and grandfather were thinking of his performance. Confused, he tries not to think of what all had just happened and rather let someone else tell him what to do. When he receives the flask he fills it and passes it to the Dwarf with his welcomed liquor. He passes around the half empty bottle. "Well friends, that was quite something. How did yall fair?" Hralfgar asks to his comrades. "I think i need be finding a still or what not to produce some more of my fine wines and liquor."

Claude who had his hand behind his cloak while watching the group now finally decides, after seeing Fallon's reaction, relaxes and his his courteous smile comes back on to his face.

"A Dwarf, this day is just full of surprises. Mon nom est Claude Francois Gringard, and I have heard tales of the dwarves but never actually have met one. Do tell me about yourself and about the dwarves." Claude says in a very curious tone of voice while stroking his goatee, "I do excuse if I come of rude but us Reygurians rarely deal with the dwarves." As Claude finishes he looks over at Aidan and motions with a wave of his hand and a kind smile to take a seat by the fire

Trinham thanks Fallon profusely for treating his wound and sits quietely sipping his teal, half listening to the conversation going on around him. Once the dwarf has left, he says "Well I think I'll be off to my bed. Is there anywhere to bed down round here Fallon?"

Lora had succumbed to an uneasy slumber, her dreams full of shadows and faces that bode yet another one of her nightmares. Before she fell prey to her subconscious however, the girl was awoken buy the rustling of men and gear and the voices of both familiar and unfamiliar people around her.

The girl remained as she was - curled with her knees pressed towards her chest, and the handle of her glaive firmly grasped in a horizontal position between her arms and waist.

She didn't even remember how she had fallen asleep - as her, the Paladin and Fallon were discussing the situation, she had sat down only for a second, to attempt ant remember some useful knowledge and spells from her lessons.

Now the young Wizardress opened her eyes and observed the group with mixed feelings. Yet more men had come, which always made her stomach turn with anxiety. However, Martoumum and his group had returned safely, which meant that Dellex's supposed plan of execution had been thwarted for now.

Lora was tired to such an unbelievable extent, that she hardly had the will to get up from her warm spot. Her nap had made her drowsy, a bit slow and quite cranky. Loreen hated being deprived of sleep.

She tried to join the group quietly but her clumsiness made her knock over a tin cup which made a racket. "Uh, hello..." Lora murmured with a tired, somewhat annoyed voice.

The old man looks at all the youngens around him, wondering if he should pass out the stiff liquor to the the young faces. He passes the bottle around to those who fought with him at the Cliff and in the Woods. He looks over to the young gil stumbling forward as he sits down on his blanket. "Well how fare ye miss? I do wish I did not disturb you with my mumblings. Old age withers a mans mind and senses, but I am not completely gone. My how you remind me of my youngen at home. Come sit, I have tales of bravery and courage on the field of battle this night, tales of how we fed the Ravens together." Hralfgar sheds off his rugged appearance and gives a large friendly smile from behind his thick beard. His blue eyes twinkle in the light of the stars and fire. His deep voice bellows out across the encampment before he realizes how loud he is. "Who wishes to listen to the tale of Martomum and his Gereenies?" Hralfgar throws off his best voice of the dwarf that he can remember from being called a Greenie. He looks at his fellow comrades expecting them to realize what he was implying.

Aidan did not say much of anything, keeping an eye out for any untoward behaviour towards Lora, observing. While he was rather friendly as a farmboy, the sudden bustle of activity led him to think it better to remain quiet with a pleasant smile on his face and observe than open his mouth and make his ignorance apparent.

The night ends with almost everyone exhausted to the point of collaspe. And a new day dawns...

The following morning comes early as the camps get ready to set out. Though you should be tired from last nights endeavors, the excitment of marching out and getting closer to the battle front has spirits high and adrenline flowing.

But all that is dashed after the first days march, and the seconds forlorn through cold rain lifts nobodys spirit. It is like the old saying farmers' farm, bakers' bake, and soliders' walk. By day three noone wants to be roused from there blankets and on day four everything is done in slow motion and silence. And after four days of marching and four evenings of drills, word is spread round the camp like a brush fire that the army will rest for the next two days and drill only on the first day everyone getting a free day the second before the marching resumes.

Strange things start to happened in the irregulars camp as the army marches on. Regulars in their white tabards and mail start patroling in and around the irreguars camp, saying that they have orders to maintain discipline and keep the peace, not knowing that their very presence distrubs the peace more so than anything else. The irregulars are drilled as fiercely as the regulars in battle formations and tactics, givin guard duties and surprise inspections which mostly deal with cleanliness of campsites. Two other strange things catch your attention, the first is that it seems the army is headed north, everyday you march the sun stays on you right till it passes overhead and sets to your left over the trees of the western woods (Though the capital and upcoming war lie to the east). And the second is on the third day of the first week when Martomum thanks all those who was their to save his life at the ravine. He begrudingly mutters a thanks and even gives everyone a few items he says were "leavings frum tem regular louts" and also says that "mays next time use be a haven' a ropes ye greenies"

That same evening Fallon tells everyone the story of Bear's Victory around the campfire.

And then it is dawn of the second day of the third week and and an ominous site dots the sky. Smoke, the smoke of war of buildings and lands being put to the torch. As the sun rises it reveals more of the terrible skyline and black smoke. Readying quickly this day the army of the bear moves quickly to locate the source of this smoke. Not marching in any order the army arrives at a steep hill over looking a small vale that looks to have a black cloud premenatly over it. Not wanting to walk into an ambush Bear sets his army out to surround the small village and come at it from all sides. But the percaution is unnessary as when the forward scouts come back to report their is not a soul alive, and show the Treylorian helment they found. It is with a heavy heart that Lord Bairan tells everyone to resume the pervious path.

An hour into the resumed march a halt is called and then a message to "bed down" here for the night is passed on. No drills are called that day but all campsites are told to post their own guards. The whole day goes by and their is no word as to why all this is happening but the army seems tensed for an attack that never comes and as the sun sinks on another day and you come back from a boring and long guard shift you find Fallon and Martomum sitting by the a fire a young man standing arms folded was saying something to the dwarf but you didn't catch what he was saying, and your presence seems to have halted his remarks.

[sblock=equipment]
Backpacks 2
Bedrolls 3
blanket,winter 1
crowbar 1
hammer 1
lantern, hooded 1
mirror,small steel 2
oil,(1 pint flask) 3
pitons 4
belt pouches 2
rations,trail 10 days
rope,hemppen (50') 2
sacks 3
spade 1
tents 2
torches 5
waterskins 3
whetstone 2
antitoxin 2
holy water 2
daggers 2
short swords 2
mace,light 1
crossbow, light 1
20 bolts
handaxe 1
[/sblock]

[sblock=ooc]Time: evening second day third week out
Location: irregulars camp
Present: all roll call PC's and Fallon and Martomum[/sblock]

"Come, come and join us all of you." Fallon says to you. "Hungry, hungry?"

Martomum just sits staring at the newcomer.

Jareth Kyras, Duskblade

The young man stands, arms folded, looking down at the gruff dwarf. His head darts up at the sound of approaching steps. His gloved right hand is near-instantly on a length of chain hanging by his hip on the same side. His eyes narrow momentarily, then he relaxes, seeing friendlies. It seems the news from earlier has him on edge… Or it could just be talking with the dwarf.

A dark look is set on his pale, young-looking face. Especially young-looking, in fact. He seems barely a man, still growing, though cutting a decent figure of a human adult, even in his very plain, worn travel clothing. His broad leather belt is pulled tight about his waist, with a couple pouches hanging from it, in addition to the chain at his right. Anyone with a little magical training would notice that one of the pouches is pretty similar to an average spell component pouch... A large pack is over just behind his left foot.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He shakes his head, his short red hair enflamed in the sun. He scowls a little as he returns to speaking with Martomum, saying, “Listen, master dwarf… Everyone starts as a greenie, as you call them, but you have to start somewhere. If you don’t want to deal with me, that’s too bad, since it seems I’ve been assigned to your bunch of irregulars. But I’ve got some skills that aren’t too common, and might just come in handy. This chain here is only a part of my own personal arsenal, an arsenal that I doubt anyone here could quite match. And it’ll only grow larger and stronger with time. Hopefully, before too long, it’ll see some use against those Treylor scum, like those that torched that poor village. Then they’ll learn what it’s like to be begging for mercy or running screaming and feeling something pierce your spine. Now, is there anything else you want to know?” The young man’s teeth grate at the end of his small speech, his body tensing slightly. He spares a glance at the people shambling into camp, his green eyes hard.

"Wants I nay gets wha I's wants!" Martomum replies back in anger. "I's wants ta knows way da Treyins be 'ere whens ta 'ould bees a guids 500 miles ta da est. Why's em I's ta goes off if'n ta Treyins bees close. An whys whys 'nother greenie me lives be bads 'nuff."

"Anyone need, need a translation?" Fallon asks with a smile and a shake of his head.