The movement in the camp causes the entirety of the Wolves to stir, a great beast being roused from its slumber. A Rider departs to bring word of his leaders' assistance to Pantea, whilst the rest of the company prepares for the day.
Several men and women gather in drill, practicing with light sparring to warm up to the slight chill of this Spring morn. Others work on sharpening their spears or affixing their armor to fit better. The camp's smith repairs a horseshoe that had been thrown during an exercise yesterday, the rider understanding and mellow to the situation. A Sagitarius and Hoplite share a morning cup of
posca, speaking at length over rumors from the West: Supposedly the Society has been beseeching the help of the Orcs and their strange allies as of late. Neither knows quite what to make of this, though the High Elf clearly speaks with disdain for her "fallen siblings".
The assembled scouts regard Feyson, Aridha, and Lucius as they discuss the plans for the day. One, Domicles, a senior lieutenant within the Wolves, clears his throat.
" Captain Shadowleaf has the right of it, good sirs. My team and I can move swiftly, but perhaps we might be used better elsewhere: if you and yours investigate this Fort we've been informed of, my men and I can instead search the surrounding areas: Patroklos's forces may have a few camps or so nearby this redoubt, and it would avail us well to discover how quickly they could reinforce their position should we assault it, naí?"
He stepped back slightly after speaking, allowing the officers to continue to refine their plan. Domicles was older than most in the company: 45 was no easy feat for a human soldier to reach, and the salty greys in his beard and hair reflected this. Still, he was as strong and capable as any other within his unit, and knew a little of strategy. He was prepared, however, to follow the orders passed down by the Officers, whom the Company trusted with their very lives. ~