A Keep On The Borderlands: Arrival - Page 17





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  1. #161
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    The Day of the Round Morel (13th Germinal) passes in rest and healing, with no further sign of beastmen, or other species. Sh'aah carves a passable hunting horn from the remains of one of the beastmen - it may not be pretty but it produces a note. Greggory's crows provide scouting duty and the Dulat troops take turns at picket. A soft rain falls in the night and the Day of the Beech dawns fog-enshrouded.

    "A lousy night for sleepin'," grumbles Tye of the Penal Legion, rubbing his lower back, "but this fog's good cover for sneakin'." He takes out his knife and whetstone and starts to sharpen.
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    Brother Comoray prays to Velshionne for good fortune and her blessings, then gives a short and rousing sermon to the assembled troops. " This day we do the will of the goddess, may she forever smile upon us, and take those of us who fall today to her side in the afterlife, " he says at the end.
    -Kaodi

    Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
    Is the immediate jewel of their souls.
    Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
    'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
    But he that filches from me my good name
    Robs me of that which not enriches him
    And makes me poor indeed.

    -Iago, Shakespeare's Othello, Act III. Scene III. Lines 180-186.

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    Bastian Sangue, human cavalier

    Bastian grabbed a portable trail ration on rising, quickly eating it as he made a quick survey of the Dulat troops. When he'd gotten reports from the overnight troop overseers, he quickly returns to Arcata's side. He says little, though it's clear he's fighting to stay focused on the battle at hand and avoid the distraction of knowing his protective charge will be out of sight of him for much of the coming conflict.

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    "The fog is perfect," Arcata enthuses. "They won't be able to see us in this, and the lights will look eerie...they may even think it's ghosts. Regardless, it'll be a spectacle, and should get their attention."

    She looks at Bastian. "Don't be so gloomy," the scion of Dulat urges. "This is going to work. When you hear the horn blow, lead the men to the breach. As quietly as you can, but don't dawdle. There may be a beastman or two smart enough to look away once they realize the lights aren't a threat."

    "Then...when they start to focus on you and the men, I'll send some spells their way from out of bowshot. They won't know which way to look."

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    Sh'aah

    Sh'aah stood and stretched as the camp came alive around him, doing his best to shake off the fatigue of two nights with no rest. The horn, and blunt knife, lay at his feet. Sh'aah felt a sense of pride at the ugly, functional thing he had created.

    Glancing around at the fog, he grunted and wandered off to complete his morning toilet. Returning, he grabbed some food from his pack and then saw to his gear and horse. Should go soon. Fog good.

  • #166
    By the time Greggory had arisen from his deep slumber, the camp was already preparing for for battle. He cursed himself silently. It had been a long time since he had been able to rest with any semblance of safety. He had allowed himself to let his guard down. Greggory quickly strapped on his arms and armor and then verified that the rest of the crows had begun their preparations.

    Cassie was had found a perch upon a large rock. She was sharpening her blade with a whetstone, drawing the stone across the blade in slow practiced sweeps.

    Thought we might just leave without you sarge. I've got my eye on the captain's feather bed. Figured I have to get in there first to stake my claim.

    By all means, Cassie...that louse ridden rubbish heap is all yours. I can't imagine what it must look like after the Beastmen were done with it.

    Cassie pantomimed as if she were fixing her hair. Pah, you ain't much better then those flee bitten mongrels. No appreciation for the finer needs of a lady.

    If I find a lady, I'll be sure to ask all about her needs.

    Cassie showed a somewhat broken smile. She might have been pretty once, maybe even beautiful. The guards that sent her here hadn't been gentle.

    Awww sarge. You say the sweetest things.

    Greggory moved through the camp, looking for Lady Arcata and her men. So far, the Lady and her stuffed shirts had come through. Bastion seemed to know his men and Comoray was a true warrior priest like out of the old ballads. And Sh'aah, well, he was more like Greggory and his crows then the nobles. Greggory was pretty sure Sh'aah, at least, could be trusted.

    Lady Aracata, sorry I'm late. My men and I will follow Bastion's lead into the breach. We can handle ourselves in a close fight, but hopefully it won't come to that. I'd prefer we slit their throats to a beast in their sleeps.

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    Sh'aah

    Sh'aah was ready before any other in the camp. He wasn't sure if it was because of his experience in sleeping rough, because he slept in his armour, he worked faster than the others or some combination of all three. In any case, he vaulted onto his horse before anyone else was ready to move.

    Being rather bored with waiting he rode to the top of one of the nearby hills to see if anything could be seen above the fog layer. The words of the warrior-priest had troubled him some. The half-orc had never really given any consideration to what happened after you died. He had been far too focused on not dieing. Hard question. What happens to souls while the body rots? he pondered as he rode, chewing thoughtfully on some of his dwindling supplies of tobacco.

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    Sensing that their purpose is set, Brother Comoray begins the march back towards the fort.
    -Kaodi

    Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
    Is the immediate jewel of their souls.
    Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
    'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
    But he that filches from me my good name
    Robs me of that which not enriches him
    And makes me poor indeed.

    -Iago, Shakespeare's Othello, Act III. Scene III. Lines 180-186.

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    The troops move through the morning mist, emerging from the rolling hills northwards towards the plain where the keep stands on its mound. After a few hours, it appears; a dark shape looming out of the fog.
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    " How do you want to approach this, Sir Bastion? " asks Brother Comoray of the soldiers' commanding officer. " I know you intend to lead the charge yourself, and that Sergeant Greggory means to follow you, but I myself must also keep close to the heaviest fighting, which is where my healing prayers will do the most good. I am afraid the rest of the men will not be organized with all of their commanding officers at the front lines. With twenty Dulat soldiers under you and four soldiers of the Penal Legion under Sergeant Greggory, I wonder if we would perhaps be well advised to split up the Penal Legion and assign one of them to small groups of five Dulat men, given they have some more experience and are well aware of the layout of the fort. And if they all have some sense of direction, it means I will be free to go where I am most needed. "
    Last edited by Kaodi; Wednesday, 28th March, 2012 at 03:18 AM.
    -Kaodi

    Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
    Is the immediate jewel of their souls.
    Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
    'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
    But he that filches from me my good name
    Robs me of that which not enriches him
    And makes me poor indeed.

    -Iago, Shakespeare's Othello, Act III. Scene III. Lines 180-186.

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