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Dotting in
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Dot!
Fifteenth Day of Erastus, Moonday 10:00 am, The grand square of Vigil
The Grand Square is as busy as it has ever been. White washed stone cobbled walkways and buildings magnify the light to make the city seem to glow with heavenly glory. Gold and steel topped towers shine in the sun. Crusaders walk about on errands or visiting smiths and shops to maintain their gear or purchase a new sword that was sure to earn a name in light of all the glory he would earn in the second coming of the Shining Crusade.
A squire or page had arrived at your place of lodging early in the morning and delivered a scroll bearing the seal of the nation of Lastwall. It had contained a summons from Commander Garin Hawkar ordering you to meet at the Grand Podium, a large stone stage in the middle of square, at ten in the morning for assignment.
As you approach you see the stage is empty, it was usually only used for The Lord Ulthun or the heads of the War College to give announcements. The commander is waiting for you near the stage’s base. A dark haired man in his late thirties, he is in his armor, shining steel with golden pauldrons, a white cloak trimmed with green is fastened to the shoulders of his armor with silver shield clasps. He salutes as you and several others approach.
Looking each of you in the eye, he curtly speaks. ”Greetings and blessings of the Gods be upon you. I won’t waste my time or yours with unnecessary chatter or pleasantries. The High Watcher Lord Ulthun has informed military command that the crusade will be setting out at the end of the month, following the flood road straight to the Hordeline to retake it and establish it as a forward positions from which to run the crusade. I have been tasked with assembling an advance guard to push into enemy territory and assess the situation along the road, and engage with any Orc scout patrols. You are that advanced guard.”
Garin holds his hand aloft and a golden brown falcon lands upon his gloved hand. ”This is Hugh, he finds his own food and will follow you on this quest. Hold your hand aloft and he will land, attach any messages you wish to report and he will return to me post haste. Now, feel free to introduce yourselves and gather your things. They are expecting you at the north gate in an hour. Your horses are there and have been provided if you don't own one. Provisions are there as well. I feel I’ve been quite clear but now is the time for questions if you have them.”
He stares at each of you seemingly daring anyone to ask him a question.
Odoacer von Kriegsburg, fourth son of Orestes von Kriegsburg and priest of Gorum, was performing his morning ritual of polishing his spiked breastplate when the knock came at the door. "Yes, come in!"
Taking the scroll from the page and waving him away with a nod of thanks, he recognizes the seal with a small smile. Finally. Is it time to start our crusade? I've been itching for a good fight. He opens the scroll and lays it out beside his armor on the desk, holding it from furling back up with a dagger on each end. He finishes the polishing as he reads, muscle memory taking over while his eyes are otherwise occupied.
When his armor is burnished to a gleam he lifts it over his head and straps it on securely. Although it is unlikely he'll get in a fight today, he never goes anywhere without it. Taking his fauchard in one hand and the summons in the other, he heads out the door and begins making his way to the Grand Podium.
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As he steps up to the podium he makes eye contact with the man standing at its base and recognizes a soldier's bearing. This must be the Commander. Looks like a capable man. After returning his salute he stands at ease with the butt of his polearm on the ground, waiting for the meeting to begin.
After the speech is finished he steps forward and stands at attention. "Sir! Odoacer von Kriegsburg, cleric of Gorum. I am honored to have been chosen for this glorious crusade against the filthy orcs!" His voice rings clearly across the square, obviously accustomed to making itself heard in battle. He steps back into the ranks of the others, clearly finished his introduction.
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Drazh looked at the commander and nodded. He was armed and armored as a Dwarven Skirmisher. A chain shirt with a reinforced armored kilt, and two warshields. Each were spiked, had razor sharp edges, and were designed for offense as much as defense. Across his chest was also a sash, containing ten charkrams. Each were shaped to look like a miniature version of his shield.
”Drazh. O’ Clan Anviltamer.” He said bluntly. ”Always ready to kill orcs. Will gladly shed blood for this cause.”
After Commander Hawkar finished his speech, Sean feels a glorious joy rushing through his veins. "Finally! The time to free my land has come!"
He tends his hand to anyone who wants to shake it. "Name's Sean." He prefers not to spend too much time chatting, and his to his room to ready all the equipment in time to be at the meeting place one hour later.
"We're the spearhead, and I will be the vanguard. I hope I'll do a fine job."
Korbinian arrives at the square dressed in full military regalia, everything polished to a shine. Anyone who's fought on the border of Molthune and Nirmathas would recognize his attire to be that of a Molthuni officer, with the nation's hammer and sword clearly present. A shield and bow are kept over his back, and he carries a longsword at his side.
The man returns the salute given Commander Garin Hawkar and stands at attention while the man gives his orders. They were clear enough, but he had a few questions none the less. "Sir, what are our orders if we have something to report but your Falcon has been slain? Secondly, is there a map of the region along with the rest of our provisions at the gate?" He knew a vauge overview of Lastwall well enough, but many of it's nuances were lost on an outsider such as himself. He just hoped the man wouldn't be offended at the suggestion that his pet could be hit by an arrow.
He doesn't bother with an introduction yet. He'll have the time to befriend his comrades in arms soon enough.
Elsmon removes her helmet and steps forward from the line, her armor making soft clinks as she steps up, raises her hand to her heart and introduces herself "Elsmon Degrom, I'll be your in house smith. You boys need something fixed, made, or enchanted you come too me. I do it all." She turns too look at the team directly and adds. "I'd also like all weapons and armor to be given over for regular maintenance every night before bunking down. That is all." She retakes her place in the lineup, placing her helm back on her head.
Aglaron arrived on time, dressed in his well-made but worn chain shirt, and his dented quarterstaff thrust through two loops on the exterior of his backpack.
Aglaron looks on somewhat enviously as the others, though they are new recruits like himself, seem nonetheless already somewhat accustomed to the military culture. Aglaron wasn't sure how to respond to Commander Hawkar's salute and brisk greeting, but he did his best to imitate the others with a salute.
He shakes hands with the others and gives his name, but wastes no more time before heading back to the inn to gather his remaining things before heading to the gate.
The Paige is somewhat confused to find that he's sent to the edge of a forested area near town and is delivering his scroll to a hammock about 10 feet up into a tree, as well as to the lion like man that's in it.
A short time later, Michael is quietly padding through the square, admiring the gleaming churches and statues of the less naturalistic religions. His hands(paws?) are folded gently behind his back, and he watches their introduction with marked curiosity, leaving questions to the others.
He smiles and greets the others, shaking hands politely. "Michael Telroth. Pleased to meet you."
Fifteenth Day of Erastus, Moonday 10:05 am, The grand square of Vigil
Commander Garin says ruefully, ”There is a map, but as you may have noticed Sir, maps of the Orc territory are s%&@e, or hundreds of years old and basically wrong.” He shakes his head as if disappointed with humanity as a whole. ”And Hugh here will report every 3rd evening to the falconry message or no, we have many falcons that can be sent in his place.” the bird Hugh tilts it head seeming almost offended, for a bird. ”Off with you then.” Garin Salutes again.
Fifteenth Day of Erastus, Moonday 11:00 am, The North Gate of Vigil
As promised there are horses for all tended here by a squire. Each with a full saddle bag containing water, rations, rope, a blanket, flint and tinder, and a parchment copy of a map. The map shows little else but the several former walls and forts lost by Lastwall in the last several centuries as well as the flood road leading along the mountains up to the Hordeline and beyond.
The squire, a blond teen who introduces himself and Bert, is quite awestruck by the sight of such awesome knights and says, ”You’re all so brave! I wouldn’t want to travel the flood road without the whole army. My pa says that it’s haunted ‘cause it lies in the shadow of the evil mountain and Orc Ghosts walk the river runoffs.” he says this with an air of disbelief but still afraid that it might be true.
”At least the crusade marches in a few weeks, I really hope that we don’t find your corpses. “ he hastily adds ”Meaning that you’re all alive, not that there isn’t a single trace of you.” he coughs awkwardly and scurries back towards the town.
"Young sir, I can guarantee you that the spirits of any dead orcs are in the lower planes being doled out their just punishment for their crimes against nature."
Having been informed of the horses, and very aware of his lack of training on them, he took some advice and brought his a couple of sugar cubes to offer his as they begin to set out, things packed away in the saddles. He waits to watch other people getting on theirs first before copying their movements, not wanting to admit he is new at this. It wasn't his fault catfolk were fast on their own. They rarely used horses.
Odoacer begins distributing his gear into his horse's saddlebags, moving with the smooth efficiency of someone who is familiar with horses but doesn't particularly like or dislike them. A mode of transportation and beast of burden, nothing more or less.
Looking down at the young squire, he smiles faintly and a gleam comes to his eyes. "This is the best time to go, before the main army scares off all the orcs. We should find a fair few fun fights 'fore long." He pauses, momentarily thrown off by his own unintentional alliteration. "Anyway, rest assured that any corpses the main force sees on it's way out won't be ours."
He looks over at Drazh scowling at his horse and walks over to help. "Don't worry, it is just a matter of letting the horse know who is the master. Be firm, but gentle. Michael has the right idea: a bribe of sugar or an apple is a good way to establish a quick bond." He pats the horse's neck gently and takes the reins from the dwarf. "Grab the saddle horn, right there, put your left foot in the stirrup and hop up into the saddle. You should probably take a few laps around the area to get settled and let the horse get used to you."
That done, he marches back over to his own horse and easily settles into the saddle, taking the time to become more acquainted with his own mount as the rest of the party trickles in.
Elsmon looks at Odoacer and Drazh, not failing too see the humor in how a full grown dwarf with potentially two hundred plus years of life under the belt doesn't at least know how to mount and spur a horse. "Haha, I hope you're half as good with those shields as you are with the horses. Then we'd be able to take the whole of Belkzen by our self." She quips, giving the two men a smile and a laugh.
On the way to the gate.
Once out from under the watch of the commander, Korbinian becomes much more personable and a friendly smile grows on his face. "Sorry for the lack of introduction earlier- thought it would be best to wait. The name's Sir Korbinian von Burkhard. Looking forward to serve besides you prove folks!"
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At the gate
Korbinian smiles at the squire and laughs at his remark. "Well lad, that makes two of us at least! But you have got no need to worry about us. We're all quite capable warriors, I'm sure." He nods at the comments of the others to the young boy as he attaches the ceremonial wings to the back of his armor and dons his horse. The beast is clearly well cared for, and somewhat larger than the horses of the rest of the group, and wears armor with Molthuni emblems on it
Korbinian almost looks offended when the dwarf asks if he should, "just yell at them", and is about to embark upon a long lecture about the dignity of the noble horse when Odoacer calmly explains the basics in a way more diplomatically than he was going to. He nods respectfully at the man as his cheerful demeanor returns before responding. "I see that you know your horses! That's good, but did you know that..."
As it turns out, the man with the armored horse knows quite about equestrian matters. While a lot of his advice is mixed in with various antidotes, he does do a good job of explaining the basics (and not so basics) of horsemanship. Or horsedwarfship, in the case of some party members. If given a hint that he should shut up, he swiftly raps up the story
Sean pats the squire in the shoulder. "Thank you." He is longing to cross those doors and begin advancing. Knocking on his shield with a clanging, loud noise, he calls everyone's attention. "Are you ready?"
"Absolutly!" Korbinian calls out as he puts on his Shield and grabs his lace, which has a flag of Molthune attached to it right below a flag of Lastwall. He certainly looks the part of a knight, at least.
Aglaron lacks any training in horsemanship, but the natural grace of his elven blood serves him well, and after taking a minute to introduce himself to the horse with a sugar cube and with gentle pats and a scratch under the chin, he mounts the beast without much trouble.
Aglaron looks at the squire with interest. The boy's admiration of knights reminds him of his own feelings. He gets lost in introspection as the lad goes on, and when Aglaron's mind returns to the present, he realizes he missed most of the conversation, and says simply, "We'll be fine."
Aglaron peruses the map some before they leave.
Fifteenth Day of Erastus, Moonday 12:30 pm, North of Vigil
The sun is high in the sky above the party as you canter along the dirt trail toward the southern border of Belkzen. According to the map, you should reach the beginning of the flood road by late afternoon, passing the final defensive fortification that is manned by the knights of Lastwall.
The summer heat is assuaged by a soft cool breeze from the north. The falcon Hugh cries in the distance.
A wooden wall and fort come into view, the wall stretches far to the west and up into the foothills of the east.
Fifteenth day of Erastus, Moonday, 4:55 pm, The Defensive perimeter of Lastwall.
As you approach a large Iron gate set into the thick logs of the fort. A soldier on the other side shouts.
”Open the gate! The Advance Guard is here!”
A loud clanking signals the order is heard and the chains begin to lift the gate up.
The soldier rushes out. Saluting he says, ”Captain Anfell at your service. We received word this morning that you would be arriving. You’re free to sleep in the garrison or we can let you through the north gate whenever you'd like.” He speaks with a clear professional tone, he appears to be about thirty which in Lastwall likely meant he’d been a soldier for upwards of fifteen years.
The inner courtyard of the garrison bustles with activity. Blacksmiths and farriers forge weapons and horseshoes, fletchers sit on barrels making arrows from crow feathers and strong timber. Well kept stables are to the right and the large main garrison building lies ahead. The sound of drilling pierces the yard, the light is long in the summer and the sergeants could drill well into the evening.
Anfell motions to the smiths. ”Please feel free to requisition any basic supplies you need from the armory, if it’s not weapons then Hammar our quartermaster can square you away, he’s in the warehouse behind the garrison. If you should need anything please send for me. Stables to your right and first floor rooms at the building ahead.” He salutes again and leaves.
From high atop his mount, Odoacer nods in greeting to Captain Anfell. "Thank you, I'm sure a bunk in the garrison would be most appreciated. This may be our last chance to sleep in an actual bed for some time."
He slowly walks his horse toward the stable, and, removing the saddle and tack, begins brushing sweat and dirt out of the big stallion's coat. It's probably best to wait and get an early start tomorrow, most of the day is gone. Heading into the barracks, he asks a nearby soldier to point him towards an available bunk and drops his gear into the footlocker before going out to look around the fort.
Michael is a pleasant and polite conversationalist, hopefully trying to become good friends with the group. Comraderie is important.
When they arrive at the fort, he nods politely to the captain.
Thank you for your hospitality. We should be on our way tomorrow morning.
Michael leads his horse and anyone else's into the stables before checking out the quarters.
Sean has a look at the armory, attentive to what Drazh, who seems an expert, has to say about it. He is aware, though, that high quality equipment (if found at all) might be useful also here in the garrison, so it will all depend on the quantity found.
As for staying, Sean would like to see action as soon as possible, though he understands the practicity of sleeping here and parting early in the morning.
Fifteenth Day of Erastus, Moonday 1:00 pm, North of Vigil
As the group travels, Aglaron attempts to start a conversation about their approach to battle. "I have a fair bit of practice in preparing myself to ambush enemies, and have used it to good effect to even the odds when outnumbered. Having surprise on our side is always helpful. Whenever circumstances allow, I should go ahead of our group to scout out the enemy. I am quite skilled at remaining unseen and unheard, assuming there is some kind of cover, of course. I look forward to the day when I get to see some orcs caught off guard by a mounted charge from Sir Korbinian--I bet that hurts."
On the road
"There is many a Nirmathi brigand that can attaest to the fact that it most certainly does!" Korbinian says boastfully in response to . "I must confess Molthune has never been the planet's greatest expert on ambush tactics, but I know full well how devistating they can be. I'll just defer to the judgement of you lads on the topic. A charge from an ambush would be fairly brutal if executed correctly."
At the fort
Korbinian returns captain Anfell's salute and listens to the man speak before responding. "It would be wise to rest here for the night. I trust my horse will be well looked after." He says as he dismounts and takes the horse to the stables.
As he walks with the other members of the group. "Before I turn in, I'll be spending some time trying to see what can be learned from the troops here. They've been dealing with the green skins up North more than lots of us- certainly more than me at least. Unless there are objections, I propose leaving at dawn.
On the road
"Ambushes are fine, never did the rotten tongues any good against the dwarves that fought the bastards but that's probably cause they're stupid orcs."
At the fort
Elsmon speaks up at the mention of rest. "Remember my request in the square boys? Weapons, hand'em over." She holds out her arms, ready to accept the various weapons of her teammates.
Feeling at ease within the encampment, Aglaron hands his many-dented quarterstaff and his dagger to Elsmon.
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Drazh hesistates for a moment. He then says ”I’d tell any but a dwarf to go screw herself. These be Clan Heirlooms, used to kill orcs since the quest for sky. And aye, they’re made with silver. And aye I know it’s nay the right material for a slashin’ Weapon. But if it was good enough for me ancestors it be good enough for me!” He sounded both defensive and concerned as they left his possession.
"Are there any wounded here?" Aglaron asks Captain Anfell. "I have some skill with herbal remedies that could aid their healing."
"Gladly" Korbinian says as he hands over his weapnry to Elsmon. "I look forward to seeing it all in tip top shape for tomorrow."
Sean had already forgotten about it, but he hands over his shield. He has no other weapon, as the rest of gear he carries he considers tools instead. His trusted shield, though, has smashed many faces and saved many lives.
Michael nods and hands over his sword, a wickedly curved scimitar in the shape of a crescent moon. It has the slight hum of magic to it, as well as the spherical pommel displaying the current phase of the moon. He presents it layed across both palms.
This sword is sacred to my people. I trust you will treat it with respect.
He also unhooks his breastplate and hands it over as well, leaving him with a simple undershirt and his dark blue robes. Lastly is his crossbow, handed over still folded.
The sword is already kept in immaculate condition, while the armor and corssbow are treated slightly less reverently, they're still well cared for, neither being used very often of having taken much damage at all.
Odoacer hands his weapons to Elsmon without hesitation, but seems to think it over for a second before unstrapping his spiked breastplate. "Please treat this with respect. It may be a simple piece of armor, but to a cleric of Gorum such as myself, it is a form of worship." Murmuring a few words of prayer under his breath, he holds out the breastplate respectfully. I'm going into battle with these people, I had better learn to trust them.
Elsmon nods too all of her companions as they request the utmost care be given to their equipment. "Yea don't need to worry, I'll be gentler than Bullet sow with'er calf. And when you get'em back they'll be so shiny and sharp that you blind those night stalkers and cut'em deep as the steaming sea."
Upon Drazhs offer of assistance Elsmon smiles and flutters her eylashes at him. "Oh, I'd love some company while I'm honing the instrument of the green devils demise." She then aproaches him and hands the entire load to Drazh before he can protest. "Yea best not distract me though, handsome."
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Suddenly burdened with all the weight, Drazh huffed in surprise. Both at the weight and being called handsome. ”Aye, I wouldn’t dare.” Carrying the burden over, he watched as she got to work, while he handed her the tools and weapons as needed. While only banging out dents, sharpening edges and polishing silver, she went about it with a sense of ease and purpose that was shocking. Eventually he managed ”I only learned enough to care for me own, but yer skill would put any to shame. There is much that I can learn from ye. I would help ye each time ye do this, if ye’d care for the company.”