Storms of Change [IC]

[silentspace]

The light warhorse whinnies as Zanock mounts it. The whinny sounds very much like a groan, but the warhorse begins moving forward earnestly. Luckily the saddle is a bit oversized! Zanock won't need to walk, but the horse is heavily loaded, and doesn't move very fast. On the way to the trade road, he intercepts the caravan, and remembers to sign on.

Darien gathers his men (including you) together. "Good, good. Now we have enough that our numbers alone will deter most bandits. Well, I guess the hobgoblins *ahem* might still be inclined to attack... they're none too bright that lot. Anyway, I want my veterans to stay up front with me. You newcomers will guard the rear. That will give you a chance to introduce yourselves to each other. You'll be getting to know each other pretty well in the days ahead, I reckon."

 

[silentspace]

You take your positions.

Darien and his six men are up front. Darien has no shield and looks like he fights with his longsword and shortsword. He also has a composite longbow. The caravan guards have small wooden shields, bastard swords, and longbows. They all wear banded mail.

The caravan forms a single line, each wagon and carriage having one driver. The carriage is in the middle of the line. Mr. Glendrake and whoever else is in the carriage have not revealed themselves. The eleven drivers have small wooden shields, longswords and two loaded crossbows (one heavy crossbow, one light crossbow) each. They wear chain shirts.

The six of you are in the rear.

 

[Seonaid]

"You can call me that if you like, dear." She winks, again, in a motherly way. "As for the Brotherhood, I'm not sure what you mean."

--

As the six gather at the rear of the caravan, Rowyn smiles cheerfully at the others. "I'm Rowyn Elwick Doublelock Daergal Scheppen III. Looks like we'll be travelling together." Rowyn is wearing studded leather armor in muted greens and browns, and is riding her dog. She has a sack and a bedroll strapped to the dog, and is wearing a backpack. She's a little over three feet standing and has dark skin, blue eyes, and fair hair. A short sword and light crossbow are within easy reach, as are a lute and a small pouch.

 

[Greatfrito]

Alan says nothing as he makes his way to the back of the caravan.

Once there with the others he looks around and takes account of everyone.

Not the most professional batch of mercenaries by the looks of it, but oh well, it's a job he thinks.

Alan is a tall man of lightly tanned skin, black hair, and emerald-green eyes. He is dressed in shades of grey, wearing leather breeches and a light shirt. On top of the shirt - which is only visible in patches really, where the armor doesn't cover - is his Studded Leather armor. The armor has a distinct grey tone to it, but the studs are nearly white. Both shirt and armor only reach about two thirds of the way down Alan's arms. He wears a pair of worn leather gloves, which have obviously seen much use in times past. Atop all of the clothing he wears a dark grey cloak. A large sword hilt and a dagger handle protrude from his belt, and a bolt case is hung there also. Alan's face is appropriate for his age, not looking too young or too old. While primarily cleanshaven, he sports a spot of facial hair on his lower lip, though it is in fact very neatly trimmed. His hair is not long, but it is not short enough to be an avoidable hassle. Alan has brushed it back with his hand to keep it away from his eyes, but he also wears a cloth headband - simply a strip of fabric tied around his forehead - to be certain that no rogue hairs invade his field of vision. This, like his other clothing, is a dark grey color.

Alan immediately takes his chance to make himself known.

"Hello all, I'm Alan. I don't know about you folks, but I can't wait for some adventure, eh? A good ol' fight would makes things a bit better 'round here. More fun. Ah, anyways, sorry 'bout that, almost got to rambling. I'm Alan and really I'm a mercenary by trade. I can see that maybe you folks," he says as he eyes the small persons, "maybe aren't as used to a good down-and-dirty fight as I am, so if you want, feel free to stick with me."

 

[GPEKO]

Bert

As they all gather toward the back of the caravan, Filbert's small face shows a huge smile. He also thinks to himself as he strokes his huge sideburns (a commun nervous habit for him).
Interesting traveling companions that's for sure ...
Filbert wears dark green clothing that show a lot of wear and tear. His brown hair is pulled back to form a poneytail. Two daggers rest on his belt while a small crossbow hangs on his left shoulder. He also wears a wooden symbol around his neck. It is carved to represent what seems to be a moon crescent above the horizon line.

"Since we seem to be doing the presentations, I'm Filbert Wateryfoot, at your service. You can just call me Bert if you like." He turns toward Alan, looking up, and adds : "Adventure ? Sure I'm looking for adventure. But to me the true trill of adventure is not fighting. It's to discover new places, to see what lies behond the next road bend , to savor what the next dot on the map has to offer, to ... errr ... that sort of things. See ! I'm rambling too !" He laughs briefly. "Don't worry though, I'm not much of a swordman but I know a few tricks and I'm not a bad shot with my crossbow."

 

[Seonaid]

"I'm not expecting much adventure," Rowyn says. "I just signed on for, uh, the money. I'm not making as much as I thought I would." She glances at the others' mounts briefly, before bringing her gaze back to Alan's and then Filbert's faces and smiling.

[ OOC: Do the mounts look similar at all? Barding, tack, something? ]

 

[silentspace]

Rowyn examines the mounts. Some have similar brands, but she lacks the knowledge to identify what they mean. The mounts have no barding. The saddles, tack and bridles are of good quality, but otherwise have no distinguishing markings. Something gnaws at the back of her mind. Are all saddles built the same way? Unfamiliar with mounts and unsure whether this is of any significance, Rowyn rides up to the front of the caravan to compare the saddle and tack of Darien's men. Yes, there are subtle differences, she realizes, and the six new guards have saddles that are remarkably similar. They probably came from the same town, if not the same workshop!

OOC a shadowy voice says 'the curse of the bambino will prevail!'

 

[Someone]

"I'm not expecting much adventure," Rowyn says. "I just signed on for, uh, the money. I'm not making as much as I thought I would."

"Well said!" yells a dwarf. A rather typical one, if one forguives the lack of heavy armor and a big axe. In fact, only a broad shortsword can be seen at his side while he tries to not fall from the horse. "Adventures and having experiences are good, but they can´t compare to gold. Gold! Your yellow color, red under the torches! Your wonderful weight in the hands! When I´m depressed, nothing to lift my spirit as counting gold. Yes, I love it!"

 

[Argent Silvermage]

Etherial guides Spirit up to Rowyn and looks down to her level, I appologise for my silence earlier Rowyn. My name is Etherial and I am from the Ivory Brotherhood. This is the Brotherhood that Darien was questioning earlier. It is a pleasure to meet you.
He looks at the other people in the back of the group and says. We are a strange mix to be hired on a guards for a caravan. I wonder, Did you also recieve a summons from House Dharnan advising you to join the caravan as a guard?

 

[Thels]

"Yeap!" the buldering voice of a big savage exclaims as he walks towards the group. He's obviously an orc, and quite large for an orc, or rather wide despite being nearly 7 feet tall. He's dressed in some plain clothing covered by a chain shirt, while a helmet covers his head. A large sword hangs down his side. He keeps his eyecastes small as he continues to bulder: "Got a letter. Thought why the heck not. So here be Zanock."