Men'Thar-The Lost Patriarch

[Vendetta]

Zar arrives just after the dwarf. "Is anything worth eating?" He grumbles, taking a shot at human cooking... now if only there were a halfling about... they always know how to cook passable meals. The sea elf scowls at the mug of coffee in the human's hands, thinking it may be better used for polishing Thromgril's armor to a glitter than putting in one's stomach.

 

[DralonXitz]

(OOC: Unless anyone has any objections, I'll just autopilot Ferrix until he posts again)

As the party wakes up, they all make their way towards the makeshit mess hall. More of a large tent with a massive banquet table, the unit slowly sits down at it, as a large chef in a rather grimy outfit serves out bowls of lukewarm gruel to the men. Conversation slowly erupts between them, the dreadful after-effects of the liquor still taking it's toll.

At a small round table at the end, Cristen, Skarsus and the other four heroes sit down, and receive gruel with some bread, and a glass of watered down ale for their meal. Cristen slowly enjoys his meal, reminiscing with Skarsus of the old days before moving onto the task at hand.

"Well, as you probably already know Skarsus, Zakor is no longer part of Mier. The prince seceded a small area of the country, and Zakor is right on the outskirts of it. Getting in won't be much of a problem, as the men there are young and weak, but the real difficulty is finding these people your looking for. We know of this order, they call themselves the Fallen Dragons, supposedly descendents of Amun, but they have their temple extremely well protected. Noone has been inside there for years, and the townspeople fear them. They have some kind of hex on the door, so the only way in will be to somehow convince them to let you in. I can get you into Zakor, but that temple, your on your own there pal. Is there anything you need before we depart?"

 

[Vendetta]

Zar ignors the cattle as they talk and eats only enough of the gruel to quiet his stomach before excusing himself from the mess hall.

 

[taitzu52]

Thromgril waddles over to the back table with the rest of the party. After the offerings have been set, he takes the watered ale and begins to gargle with it, swishing it around in his mouth rather loudly before turning around and spitting it onto the dirt floor. "Ahhh.", he says, "I could use somethin' ta break the fast." He digs into his gruel, paying little attention to the conversation until it turns to the order's temple. "A Hex, eh. Well dat's why we've the elf 'ere, for tings like dat. Cert'nly not fer his kind words of en'courgment." he says, chuckling at his own joke. "Maybe HE'LL talk our way in!! Hohoho, haha!" Thromgril laughs, slapping his belly. It becomes obvious soon, that he's still a bit drunk.

 

[deadestdai]

Still blinking away tiredness from the night before, Skarsus looks to his companions and raises an eyebrow. Besides supplies and a small army, what do you lot think? Suddenly, he is the unsure boy again, thrust into a leadership position over those who were plainly his elders. It felt strange, but he was slowly becoming used to taking the reigns in these situations.

 

[Vendetta]

"Hmmm?" Zar says, somewhat distantly as he turns to face the group. "I wasn't listening. I'm only here for morale support." The sea elf says as he steps back closer to the others to hear a summary of what he missed.

 

[ferretguy]

As he spoons the gritty, non-flavored gruel in his mouth, Ackalon does his best to swallow his breakfast, wishing that he would of grabbed a few apples from the inn before he left.

 

[Ferrix]

Derrik gulps down his gruel, watching the troupe of soldiers go about their morning routine. Wonder if they be need'n a smith fer any'thin.

 

[DralonXitz]

Cristen stands up at Skarsus' party's silence and heads for the door, patting Skarsus on the back and says, "I'll take that for a no brother. Come on let us move out."

As the adventurers grab their gear and prepare their horses for the journey, the soldiers begin to leave the camp, and head towards the small town of Zakor. Days pass, and about two sunrises later, after many drinks and laughs, Cristen and Skarsus come over a large mountain and look down upon a secluded valley, small camps around it, and in the middle, a humble village, with a massive cathedral pointing towards the heavens.

Cristen turns back to his men and shouts, "Come on boys, lets head towards Zakor!"

 

[deadestdai]

Surprised that none of his companions had offered any suggestions, Skarsus bowed his head and finished his breakfast.

-------------------------

As the days pass, he wonders just what he had gotten himself into? Criten and the others were still doing their "safe" duties. Still manning their outpost and taking care of "normal" occurences. How the devil did a young patrol-man like me find myself in the middle of nation-affecting troubles?! It wasn't the first time he had asked himself that question since he had set off for the golden citedal and he was sure it wouldn't be the last.

Zakor is set before us my friends, let's see what we have to do to get inside eh? The young man spurs Palientha off behind Cristen and his troupe expecting the others to follow.