The wars fought over ownership of Lake Prosperity have waged for almost as long as anyone can remember. This latest one has run its course for going on three years. Both sides have suffered many losses. The forces of Legio Sus and the Ozelenti people have managed, on multiple occasions, to advance the lines, pushing across the River Fortune. Each time the hold was unable to be maintained. Supply lines crossing the river caused delays, and each time the Klimites were able to push the forces back into Ozelenit.
The latest battle was the last of a few drives to take back the Ozelenit side of the river. The Legio has managed to take a little at a time, and this last one, although lost, was successful enough to reclaim the land up to the river. The Legio took heavy losses, not much in the way of soldiers, but many mercenaries and local militia. The biggest Legio loss was one of the Mobile Command Platforms, a seige tower with added defenses, used to survey the fight from a higher vantage point. It was taken down by a well aimed shot from a trebuchet.
The Legio has set up camp at the last rally point, tents aligned in organized rows by company. The usual after battle details are organized, wounds healed, and orders handed out. Just after evening chow, a task comes down from higher.
Roedd/DM:
The goblin looks up at Roedd, but does not wait if the shifter dallies. Booj hustles to meet the minotaur over there. "This slave is reporting for supply recovery!"
growl...Tribuni Bovus... Word has been sent that you need me. It has always been so... Has is it not?
DM and Jacen:
Yuriel sighs and levers himself up from his spot by the fire. "Huh. The reward for a job well done - another job. Right, where do we meet this precious flower?"
Yuriel is ready to grab his pack and follow the messenger right away - but he'd prefer a night of rest first. Yeah, not likely.
DM and Yuriel:
He stands up slowly and gathers his things. "Whatever it is I'm sure—Kavast willing—we can handle it."
Rev and PR, as humans did you take the alt +2 to stats, and if so which other human option did you give up?
DM
Armand bows, gathers his kit and strolls away, looking towards the edges of the camp. All too well he knows he is likely to be encumbered with companionship.
Roedd, Tulgeikh
Booj jumps up. "Yes, boss!"
The goblin looks up at Roedd and hustles to meet the minotaur over there. After a brief return to the slave camp from partway on his run (to grab up his small pack), Booj arrives on the heels of the long-legged shifter. "This slave is reporting for supply recovery!"
** spoiler omitted **
Roedd let's out a long rumbling growl and steps back to assess the others assigned to the detail.
The recovery crew slowly gathers, some bounding with eagerness, others with an obvious sense of duty, and not to be missed angry reluctance. The tribuni, his two soldiers and two slaves are lastly joined by another, an officer it appears, sauntering toward the group.
As they gather, there can just be made out the sounds of discussion, a few sneers and some jeers at the gathered misfits. Some things heard spark on familiar insults, words like cow, and dog, little wannabe soldier.
As the small group stands together at the ready, all that holds them back is the command from the assigned leader, letting them know where they're headed and when they leave. Whatever information he gives them being mostly all they have to go off.
"Always the insults. It grows wearisome. I propose that I join you before my temper gets the better of me again."
Armand doesn't look as if he's going to take no for an answer.
"Ignore them," says Jacen to Armand while tilting his head slightly in the general direction of the mob.
"A man is known by the company he keeps, and also by the company from which he is kept out."
"An affront to honour is never acceptable, but I concede that such folly is best ignored. I present myself to you all. Armand Duvallier."
Armand is far from attractive, although he does his best to mask a missing eye with an elegant patch, but he fairly radiates personality.
Booj merely stands serenely, awaiting direction or acknowledgment from Tulgeikh. The insults are nothing new.
Yuriel is content to wait and watch, assessing these new companions. A strange group, but war makes for that, and at least he knows Jacen is competent. The others? A couple of slaves, could be tough but could run at the first hint of trouble. A Minotaur officer, and hopefully this one wasn't an incompetent fool. Time would tell. And finally a... civilian noble? No, not quite, there was an aura about this one, a faint crackle of power. A mage.
Muttered insults from behind them run from his back like rain from oiled canvas. He could be a bronze statue in the ruddy fire light, impassive and patient.
Well, patience is relative. To the minotaur, "So, where are we going? Anything special we need to know?"
DM, Tulgeikh
Armand draws brief attention to his unarmoured self.
"If I may suggest a small subterfuge, I might masquerade as a prisoner. Nothing is more likely. I am so harmless-looking, am I not?"
He doesn't feel the need to point out that if he's caught in any front line, he will be mincemeat in short order.
Roedd mutters, "Let's get on with it before the weather turns. Cows may not mind standing out in the rain, but I'm sure the rest of us have more sense."
Median defense descending: Jacen, Booj, Tulgeikh, Roedd tied with Yuriel, Armand
Combining the ranks, then pairing best-worst, next-next, etc., with a modification for pairing Armand with the most perceptive character. It puts low defenses on the Roedd/Armand watch, which is why I put them first.
Of course, we don't yet know who likes vs can't stand each other . . .
Yuriel and Tulgeikh are defenders and Yuriel is slowed by armor.
Jacen is the healer and is slowed and Armand is squishy.
Booj and Roedd are reasonably fight-worthy and mobile
Roedd did not volunteer for any of this, so he is unlikely to show any kind of initiative if he thinks it will make the mission a success. That said, he's not so bitter that he would cut off his nose to spite the officers. If no order is given, Roedd will generally hang back and try to avoid bunching up with every one (between 5-10 squares separation, when possible.)
Jacen listens attentively to the goblin's analysis, reminded that even the smallest person can change the course of the future.
"Very well, I will march in the centre, leaving the more capable melee specialists in front."
"I shall deal with whatever slips past," he gestures towards the pommel of his weapon, "and step forward to provide healing or support."
"That order of march works for me," Yuriel shrugs in acceptance. "Now, where are we marching to?"
The minotaur acknowledges those assigned to his task, and advises you all to ensure you have all the gear you will need. He informs you that you will heading to the site of the last battle, and to keep a sharp eye out for the ruins of the Mobile Command Platform.
"That's it. I've had enough of waiting. If any of you follows, keep your distance."
"A fellow who walks to his own drum beat, no?" Armand speaks calmly with Jacen and Yuriel, for all the world as though he was on a country walk.
"The Command Platform? Such a thing will not be hard to find, I think. Unless it has already been converted into another machine of war. This will also be easy to discover when it is turned on us."
Jacen nods, "Either way, the mission will end quickly."
"I vote for quick and easy over quick and dead." Yuriel moves after Roedd, keeping close to Tungeikh as the group starts into the darkness.
"Thank you Booj, you seem to have a fair grasp of tactics so we will go with your suggestion."
Tulgeikh will lay out where we need to go to the group before barking out commands, "All right men lets head out and keep a brisk pace, we don't want to out in the ruins for to long." at Roedd, "Ok beast-man out front and try not to lead us into any ambushes."
Booj watches Roedd go out. He grins happily at Tulgeikh's praise, then takes up rearguard alone, trotting after the taller folk.
The trip is fairly quiet and uneventful. Moving away from the camps, the sounds of hustle and bustle diminish until they fade into the backdrop. Up ahead the wild man can be seen darting from sparse cover to sparse cover. Most of the foliage has been all but stamped out by the rough shod heel of marching boots.
The land looks like it may have been fertile once long ago. The natural flow of both the river and the nearby lake feeding the rich brown soil. However, the land has been stamped into a blood-tinged mud. Tufts of tough grass, and dry shrubs struggle up through the ruined fields. The ruts of both wagons and siege weaponry mar the open fields. Periodically, one can see the cracked brown bones of the fallen of days gone by, some peppered with bite marks, and the ruddy brown rust of forgotten metal scraps.
The location of the last endeavor is not too hard to find up ahead. Even in the dim light of dusk beginning to settle, you can all see the carrion birds circling overhead. A fine feast for the crows lay beneath them, as they wheel, land, and peck before they alight once again.
At the ground where they land, can be seen the jutting planks of shattered timbers, as well as the entrenched stones of catapult ammunition. Amongst the wreckage a small pack of what appear to be a kind of wild dog is visible, picking at remains, and chasing off the crows when they get too close.
Jacen studies the wildlife.
"And so, it was easy to find." He shrugs and draws his dagger.
From behind you there is the clank of armor and the sound of huffing. An older soldier, looking like he has been double timing to catch up to you, draws nearer. In his hands he carries a long spear, the top bearing the tattered ends of what had once been a battle standard.
He quickly explains that it has gone missing, and that it may have come off when the platform shattered. He looks angered by its disappearance.
Emboldened by a hearty meal and intruders at the table, the dogs seem to be laughing as they spring toward the fresh meat that just arrived.
"Whew, dat run dun tuckered me out. Well, what'r ya'll layin' up round here fer stead of learning yonder hounds a ting er two. Dis aint no time to be dilly'dallyin. If'n I dont get dis 'ere standard back to camp, meh cap'n is gonna be ill as a hornet! Lets get up an at 'em!"
Seljak looks over the wild dogs and the ruins of the last battle.
"Mind ya dun be letting em hounds gang up on yer. Two ta three of em dun gonna whup ya gud, dat happens and you get a hairy sec ya best lite up on outta der!"
Booj yelps.
N3 please.
Init =
"Four legged Gnolls how cute. They won't be laughing after blood is dripping off my horns."
"Front ranks set up a skirmish line and keep them off the spell casters. And like McCrusty said don't let them surround you."
Armand stares at the hyeanas in disgust. "These are scavengers. The lowest form of hunter. I will not be their breakfast."
Clearly he's highly irritated and working himself into a rage.
"Chalyse of the lightning arms shall strike them as they run."
Yuriel casually unlimbers his shield, setting it on his left arm. He takes a javelin in his right hand, its bronze tip glints in the dying sunlight.
"I'll take point. Who's with me?"