Dot.
Staging Grounds
It was the night of the sixth day since the first group had ventured forth into the portal into whatever awaited them beyond. The staging grounds had become a cluttered place that smelled of fear, sweat, excrement, and spoiled food despite all the work that was done to keep the area clean. With this many peoples plucked suddenly from their homes with little of their belongings, or worse yet those few survivors from the ravaged eastern lands it was difficult to keep order among the people, especially considering the news that was spreading like a wild fire about the fall of the last line of Legions that was keeping the army at bay in Everia. The army was now racing westward at a terrible pace through Everia, burning and butchering anything and everything...
Perette, you are sitting among the briefing of remaining leaders due to your position. Currently they are bickering on how to proceed from this moment on. There are two remaining Legions camped between the staging grounds and the border of Everia. Some think the Legions should be the first through the Gate to ensure the survivors are not led into some sort of trap. Some think that the Legions should remain in position as a buffer for the civilians.... And then there is one voice among the others, a tired voice and one you recognize well, Édouard Chatillon, who looks even more tired and frail than you ever recall seeing him. Lord Chatillon was suggesting that the Legions be sent out as a diversion to draw the enemy away in a different direction so to give the evacuation time to succeed.
Attryn, you find a quiet place to settle down among the terrible chaos of the staging grounds. Finding that despite your oddities, not many have given you even a second glance... not that you would ever give them that opportunity before slipping into the shadows. Night is falling and you cannot help but find your eyes draw to the strange, flickering green light of your lantern as the whispered voice you know so well begins to fill your mind with nonsensical rantings. Your eyelids get heavy as the whispering carries your thoughts away and you think you may be drifting off to slumber... *THUMP-THUMP!* You start at the thud of your heart beat! You catch your breath and listen to the fear that is sweeping through the camp; you find yourself wondering whether you should care or not about the fate of these people...
Eternal Vigil
Hulgruun you have just arrived for your short rotation at the Eternal Vigil, the keep of the Watchers; only a week this time around. Apparently Watcher Lyrel has something in mind for you that is needed to be done in Dessen. He has not told you what yet, but clearly it is of import. After depositing your belongings in your single room (being one of the ranking members of the Watcher's of the Keep, you are afforded your own room while staying at the Vigil) you decide to check on the Watchers upon the wall. It is about midday and the sky is overcast and the humidity in the highlands weighs heavily upon the lands around. In the distance you can just see the slight arch of the top of the gateway and the ancient, massive statues of the guardian bears that flank it. One of the newer recruits looks off wistfully at the scene before you both as he turns to see your approach. He straightens his back and pounds a fist to his chest in salute. "Brother Brawnanvil, sir! What brings you to the battlements, sir? Is there anything I can help you with?" His eagerness is refreshing.
Curr Tik-Cha
Your morning has been a strange one. The night prior was filled with portentous dreams of change and when you awoke, you found the wind blowing in from the northeast... something that has only ever happened once before, the day your cursed your family. You decide to go visit with Gift and speak with him about the strange portents and find him bathing among the Spirit Falls as he is oft to do. The tabaxi looks up as your drift down nearby. "Ah, Curr, what brings you down from your perch so early in the day?"
Taking a few deep breaths, Attryn shook his head to help clear his head. He wasn't exactly sure how long he'd been feeling lulled into a sense of complacency, but now he heard the throng of desperate people. His heart almost hurt for them. He could not simply abandon them in their time of need.
Letting the sounds of the living drown out the sounds of the whispering from his lantern, he put it into his pack sealing it closed. Standing, he began to move toward the throng of people. How much time had passed since he'd been around this many people, he wondered.
He needed to try and help stem the flow of fear from becoming too much. He wanted them to get more organized. But he doubted a stranger could do so many things or sway that many people alone. So he would start small.
There would have to be a few people he could help at least.
With an easy smile and a roll of the shoulder to work out the stiffness of the morning's travel, Hulgruum strode up to the somewhat taller young man before him. He cast a quick glance over the new recruit's armor and spear, searching for loose fastenings or overlaps that would indicate if the boy's equipment was ill-fitting or poorly maintained. The enthusiastic glimmer in the recruit's eye was a welcome sight on such a dreary day, and Hulgruum felt his smile become just a hair more earnest.
The dwarf thudded his chest with his own callused fist in a return salute. "At ease, lad. Don't go trippin' yerself o'er the edge o' the wall now." Hulgruum chuckled to himself, fondly remembering his own overt enthusiasm in his early days as a Watcher. His eyes wandered to the horizon, studying the guardian statues that flanked the Gateway, before trailing his gaze around the fortified encampment that served as the forward base for the Vigil.
"Just gettin' a birds-eye view, at the moment. Seein' what needs doin'." Hulgruum turned back to the recruit. "I will, however, be takin' a current report o' events, Brother, uh...?" He trailed off, fishing for the boy's name.
Perette sits at attention, the powerful woman apparently at ease in the camp in spite of the constant battering and exertion that her body has taken all day. Her helm rests under her arm, her hair messy and still partially-kept under a cloth cap.
Thus far, she has remained quiet. Though she is a valued warrior, she is still barely a knight, and these councils are for veterans and noble leaders.
Still, when Chatillon speaks, she nods just barely perceptibly. Protecting the common people is the role of the knighthood, after all, and she has still not given up the idealism of youth.
Curr perches himself gently on a stone outcropping, near enough to let the mist slowly settle on him but with enough distance from the falling water to avoid the spray.
He nervously clicks his beak in agitation. " Ill winds blow this morning Gift." He ruffles his feathers as if trying to shake off the air around him. " Something is moving, bringing unwelcomed changes."
Staging Grounds
Attryn's small size allows him to move through the throng of shifting people as he seeks out groups of people that he seems to think might be in need of reassurance or folks that might be able to aid him in passing along such things. It takes you sometime to find the right group, but after an hour of feeling out different groups you come hear one voice nearby calling out over the general roar of thousands upon thousands of voices. "We must leave now while we still can! Head for the mountains, these lords and ladies care not for us lowly folk! They will be the first through the gates and leave us for the demons! You will be safer with us, come with us! We are leaving this eve and heading north where we can find refuge in the mountain passes!" You easily slip around and find a tall, muscular man with a thick, dark beard standing a top a barrel apparently attempting to recruit folks to join the small group of rough-looking individuals gathered around him at his feet. They are a mashup of all the peoples of Mairena, but the one common thread that seems to bind them together is the fierce determination set in their eyes and roughness of their bearing...
Perette hears a chorus of disdainful snorts and guffaws at Lord Chatillon's suggestion. It takes a moment before a regal-looking man with auburn hair and a well-trimmed beard and piercing amber eyes is able to quiet the assembled group. "Quiet now, all of you! I have afforded you all the opportunity to present your recommendations. Lord Chatillon shall be given the same respect, he is still an Imperial Knight and will be respected as such!" The presence exuding from the man silences any further protests and he gestures to the aging Lord Chatillon to continue, who bows low in deference.
"I thank you, milord." He clears his throat and tucks his aged hands behind his back. "The enemy's number is far too many for the Legions to be of any use in holding them back for more than a few hours at best. If they have any commanders they will simply send their vanguard out to meet our Legions and engage them, then send their wings around it and proceed here without anything at all to stop them. At the speed in which this horde seems to move, I would say they would likely be here within two days. If we are not able to get the remainder of the civilians through this gate tomorrow, then that will be the end." He allows that thought to sink in for a quiet moment before continuing. "However, should we send a majority of our forces to the south towards the capital, perhaps we could draw them down there in hopes of feigning a secondary retreat. Ideally we could possibly buy any remaining refugees a chance to get through the gates or find another safe haven towards the north. If we can draw the enemy south, and engage them in the city where their numbers will not count as much as they do in open, then perhaps we could delay them long enough for a possible third wave of refugees." There are a many nods at the older Knight's suggestion.
"And whom among us would lead this venture, Lord Chatillon?"
"If you would allow it, milord, I will. I am old and will likely be of no use in rebuilding in this new world. While my sword arm is not as strong as it once was, my mind is skill keen and sharp. I would rather take my end in this noble sacrifice than die in a bed toothless and feeble."
Eternal Vigil
The young recruit seems to notice Hulgruum's eyes looking over his equipment and seems to stand up a little bit straighter as he quickly glances over his arms and armor to ensure nothing is out of place. This young man appears to either have had some training in fitting himself into armor or had the assistance of a veteran member of the Watch as he is quite squared away. "Brother Chatillon, m’lord!” He then remembered that Brother Brawnanvil had requested the daily report as he notices the look upon the dwarf’s face. ”Oh, yes, the report! All quiet, sir, the patrols are due back…” He trails off as he glances up towards the overcast sky. ”Well, with these clouds I’m not accurately certain, but I would guess within the hour or so by my reckoning. With this humidity though, they might be delayed. It’s Jofrin’s group out there, sir.” He adds by way of explanation.
Curr Tik-Cha
Gift listens with his back to Curr for a moment, bobbing his head along while letting the water pour over his head. ”Yes, ill winds. Curr, has anyone ever told you that you are just a fountain of cheer?” He steps out and shakes his body to fling excess water from his fur before he turns to look at you and stops short. His head tilts to one side as he recognizes your particular perch and the way you ruffle your feathers. ”Wait, you’re being serious aren’t you? This is not one of you usual doom and gloom things?” Over the years of knowing each other, Gift has learned that you have an affinity for reading such things at times. ”What could it be, you think? Something with the off-worlders?”
"I've not seen omens like these in years, not since..." He voice trails off clearly unwilling to elaborate.
"The off-worlders, yes I had not considered what they may be up to. its been some time since I looked in on our long-term visitors. "
"The mountains?" Attryn asked loudly. "Clearly you have not been to the mountains recently. I, on the other hand, spent the recent months traveling them. Nothing there is left that will change the outcome of what is happening here. Undead traveled in packs hunting whatever remained of civilization. Villages lay with their gates open, overrun, abandoned, burned to the ground... or worse.
Anyone who goes there only marches toward their death. As I nearly did." At that moment, Attryn reached up to his mask and removed it. Showing his pale features and darkened eyes.
"But I see your determination to live. Your willingness to fight. Not a single one of you are cowards to run away or lay down and die. The lords and ladies of this land do not fight because they lack the heart of a warrior. Instead you are better served mobilizing yourselves with the soldiers here. Marching forth to stand side by side with them and show the demons and undead that your determination to live is stronger than their will is to destroy you. What then will you do? Will you fight for your lives, those of your countrymen, and for those who have died? Or will you run away?"
Perette stands a little straighter as Brother Chatillon makes his plan known. Giving the people a chance... an opportunity to ensure that some lives, at least, are spared... this is what she lives for. This is why the flame burns in her chest that pushes her to feats of valor on behalf of those who cannot protect themselves. She waits to see if Brother Chatillon's plan is accepted - ready to offer herself as part of his guard if it is.
Hulgruum snorted, unsurprised to hear Jofrin's name mentioned in the same breath as "patrol." He was fond of the man, and to a degree even admired his utter negligence in terms of tact, but had still warned him a number of times to take care while among the more straight-necked ranking members of the Watch. The grinning dwarf made a note in his mind to check on Jofrin when he returned, and probably catch up for a round at the tavern later that night; the man was always good for a shared laugh at the end of the day.
With a roll of his shoulders to shake off the setting chill, Hulgruum clapped Chatillon on the shoulder, reaching up just slightly to do so.
"Carry on, then, lad. Was a pleasure to meet ye!" He gave the younger Brother a wide grin. "An' if yer lookin' fer fine company an' finer drink, join us in the tavern tonight after yer shift. First one's on me, eh?" With a rumbling chuckle, Hulgruum moved past the boy and continued along the battlement, inspecting the stonework as he passed. As he did, he moved more slowly than was typical, and a thought kindled at the back of his mind.
Chatillon... Chatillon... where've I heard tha' name before? The faintest whisper of a memory grew in volume within his head. His eyes refocused as a realized he had stopped moving, and he lifted his gaze to the misty highlands surrounding the Vigil. A shudder ran through his body, but not from the chill in the air. He turned back to Brother Chatillon, his easy smile just a hair tighter at the corners.
An' by the by, be keepin' yer wits about ye, lad. The mists are summin' fierce today. With another friendly nod, Hulgruum continued on his way, heading for the stairs. He batted his sudden wave of uneasiness down, and set his thoughts to task, running through a checklist of his immediate duties. Reminders of the old world were everywhere, and a familiar name was nothing extraordinary.
At least, that's what he told himself as he ventured down from the walls.
Curr Tik-Cha
Gift grinned, showing his sharp fangs and let out a slight purr of excitement. "Yes! I'm coming with you, Curr! My tail has been twitching as of late and the wanderlust is hitting me hard. I need this! Let me gather my gear and canoe!"
Perette
The bearded man, whom you recognize to be Emperor Doren, nods gravely. "That is your right, Sir. So be it. Gather your forces quickly, Lord Chatillon, and may the Light of Mekanel guide you swiftly to the Halls of Dawnathan." A heavy silence falls over the room before Emperor Doren speaks again. "Who here will ride with Lord Chatillon?"
Attryn
The motley group all turn towards you as one, glaring at your small frame and masked face. The bearded man sneers and starts to speak when you remove your face, but immediately recoils at the sight. There is an immediate response from those gathered around as they gasp in fright and stumble away. Before anyone else can speak another word, you continue and you begin to see the crew frowning at first, then several begin to hang their heads, that fierceness (or what it fear?) leave their eyes. One by one they all eventually glance down from the sheer presence of this small halfling with blackened eyes. A palpable silence hangs over the area for a moment before the bearded man sighs, his head bobbing slightly. "You speak with a presence I've not heard before, halfling. I don't know where your strength comes from, but... You have shamed me, something that has never happened before." His face hardens as he glares at you. "We will fight. So that when the days of judgement come and we meet again in the Halls of Dawnathan, you will know that Joshan is a man of mettle. That day you will reap your words, little one, but today you have my respect." He jumps down from the barrel and grabs the handle of a massive axe leaning against it. "Those who would fight, come with me!" The motley group gathers their gear and you see several folks, some young, some old, male and female alike look around and then slowly begin to filter to join this rough group. Before they leave, Jothan strides over to you and glares down. "What is your name, Darkeye?"
Hulgruum
Brother Chatillon beamed and seemed to grew nearly three inches in height as he pushed his back as straight as he could despite the heavy leather breastplate. "Thank you, Brother Brawnanvil, I shall! As long as the second round can be on me!" He gives you another fist to the chest salute. He turns at your voice and listens intently. "Always, sir, always!"
You make your way through the keep and encountering several more of the Watch that smile at your approach and make small talk with you. Some of the less undisciplined members just give a small nod and move along. Lately it seems that more and more of the Watchers have come here for nothing more than a place to belong. With this unsettling thought, you reach the beautifully carved wooden door the belongs to your Commander Lyrel. The blending of elven design and beautiful dwarven craftsmanship takes your breath away every time you see it. Before your hand even reaches the wood you hear the clear elvish voice call out from behind it. "Come in, Hulgruum, you need not knock. You know that."
At the Emperor's request, Perette immediately steps forward. "I will ride with Chatillon," she says without hesitation.
Every eye turns to look at you, Perette, as you step forward. Lord Chatillon's head jerks as hearing the familiar voice and you see a slight smile turn up at the corners of his mouth. He gives you a nod, but you also see a slight sadness in his eyes at hearing your declaration. However, upon seeing the young knight immediately step forward you hear more voices raise up to join. Many of them younger nobles and knights such as yourself, likely those with families of their own here or fallen. It was difficult to say. You recognize several of the faces from your youth and training or perhaps in passing on the battlefield. It was difficult to remember some of their names after all the death you've seen in the past few months.
Chatillon takes your hand and pulls your close to whisper in your ear. "It does this old heart well to see you alive, young Perette. That fire still burns within yours I see. That is good. I must ask a favor of you, Lady d'Arcadia, but you will not like it."
Attryn had braced himself, expecting the shocked looks from those surrounding him. How could he expect anything else? After all, it's what he'd done seeing himself in the mirror for the first time.
He looked to the crowd of rugged warriors as they began to move. They would be the ones to command their fate now, he had merely pushed them along the paths where their lives would matter the most.
"Attryn is my given name." Attryn said, looking up to Joshan as the man returned. "There is no family or home for me any longer, I call myself only by that which was given. You call me Darkeyes though, I like that. So I'll take it for my own now." He smiled slightly.
"Joshan, man of mettle, I will not forget you or those who follow you, for you too have earned my respect on this day. Your choice to act may give you a chance to change fate on this day. I regret that I will not likely see you fight on the front lines, for I am sure it will be glorious.
My battlefield is not to fight the enemies directly, but to help from a distance. Should you need a guiding light however, call my name and I will come." With that, he redonned his mask.
Perette pauses, then says to Lord Chatillon, "My lord, you have already shown your mettle more than once. It is my honor and my pleasure to serve how I might, that we may make the best cause for the survival of our people and the success of our battle."
Attryn
Joshan smiles grimly and nods, placing his massive hand upon Attryn's shoulder. "I like you, Darkeye. Tell our story." He removes his hand and reaches up to the ornate, silver brooch that holds his cloak at the shoulder. He tears the object away and drops it into your hand; it is clearly of dwarven make and very well made. It is of a triangular design shaped with braided silver knots at the corners and a hammer-shaped pin. Joshan gives you one last look before shouldering his axe and quickly moving to the front of the group that is heading off towards the east...
Perette
Lord Chatillon smiles. "Your valor brought many to this cause that will maybe be able to turn the tide at least long enough for everyone here to escape. I hope that you understand that much with what I will ask. I had thought much of my family lost during the battles, but I received word that my daughter and her children arrived with a rush of refugees two nights passed. I would task you with their safety in making sure they all make it safely through the gate in the morning. I know it is not a glorious task to ask of a warrior such as yourself, but in the event my plan goes awry I would like to know that the safety of my family is in your capable hands. What say you, Lady d'Arcadia?"
Attryn felt a small touch of pride as the tall man clapped him on the shoulder, for at this moment there was no illusion as they both knew what he had asked them to do. But Attry's dark eyes widened as he caught the brooch the man had dropped into his hands. The mountain man had turned out to be cunning as well as brave, instead of having Attryn walk into battle alongside him and his men, instead he'd quietly tasked him with a different mission. One that Attryn knew he could not readily refuse.
The Halfling watched the group leaving until they were at the edge of sight due to the throngs of people and distance. He then pinned the brooch onto his own dark cloak before turning away.
"Goodbye, Joshan, Cunning Man of Mettle. May you and those that follow you show the plagued ones the strength of humanity."
Perette hardly pauses, just long enough to consider her words, before she replies to Lord Chatillon, "The safety of the innocent and the helpless is of paramount concern; true honor lives in how we elevate the lives of others, not in what we do for ourselves." She gives the older man a brief smile. "I learned this from your example."
Standing straight at attention, she says, "What can be done to save the young, the timid, the infirm, the innocent: I shall do this all, with valor and with grace, for the sake and safety of our people."
Hulgruum chuckled quietly to himself, letting his meaty fist fall from the face of the door to the ornately designed and embellished handle upon it. To this day, he could never figure out if Lyrel relied on some understated arcane ability to always know the goings on around him, or if he was simply impossibly perceptive. With a soft clank and the faintest whisper, the splendid portal opened before him.
The dwarf crossed the threshold and sized up the familiar space, noting new tomes and the fresh littering of construction plans on the desk, and beyond, the familiar figure of his friend and leader.
"Commander," Hulgruum said in a voice that mixed discipline and a certain mirth. He knew not to stand on too much ceremony around his old companion, but old habits did have a tendency to die hard. "I take it we're ready to get to work?"
Dot
Dotting with proper Avatar.
Bump...
Perette
Lord Chatillon smiles at you and places his hand upon your shoulder with a kindly look. "Would that all knights be as kind and valorous as you, Lady Perette. Come, I will take you to them so that you can gather all and prepare to go through the Gate. Then I must say my goodbyes and prepare to march out. I have much planning to do before then." He steps aside and speaks briefly to the Emperor and his other leadership before departing with a quick salute. "Quickly now, I haven't much time." With that, Lord Chatillon leads you out of the command post and into the massive throng of people...
Attryn
Nestis
Since you fled with the refugees out of Arcadia, you have found the conditions much to your dislike as you have waited for a week for the Gate to recharge. The constant, pungent odors have caused you to be forced to wear a makeshift mask over your nose to avoid it overpowering your senses. The constant crush of people has your close to feeling on your last nerve, but you have found talking to people and spreading joy has had a profound affect upon those around you. You have spent that last several days getting to know as much about the folk around you as possible and ingratiate yourself to them with you bardic abilities.
On this evening, you are preparing yourself to depart the staging grounds when you overhear a loud commotion of a group trying to gather others to them and flee towards the mountain. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you watch intently as a halfling approaches this group and engages the massive, mountain of a man leader of the group in a verbal sparring match. Much to your surprise, the halfling has such a profound affect upon the man that he is able to convince him through the sheer power of his words to take the men and women that are allied with him and march off to engage the encroaching enemy forces rather than flee into the mountains. As the massive man, whose name you overhear is Josahn, prepares to depart he tears a brooch from his shoulder and drops it into the halflings hands before leaving with his troop. As you move around the hushed crowd to get a better look at the halfling, you are immediately curious as you notice his skin in pale and his eyes... his eyes are nothing more than pools of inky black...
Cole
You awoke this morning to an overcast, muggy day. The humidity was high and you could feel the throbbing behind your eyes that spoke of slight dehydration. As you rise and look outside while pouring some of the tepid water from the jug into a small, clay cup something just feels…off… You cannot quite put your finger on what exactly, but there feels like an… energy in their air. Almost as if a storm were brewing on the horizon. What do you wish to do today?
Hulgruum
Lyrel looks up with a pleasant smile as you enter the room. ”Welcome, my friend. Thank you for coming so quickly. I hope you were able to get settled first?” He stands and walks around the table to clasp hands with you. ”I know you’ve only just arrived, but I must send you on a trip to Dessen. I was looking over the plans for the new building you had drafted and we do not have all the necessary supplies to complete the construction. We will need to send you and a few of the Brothers to gather up some materials that we cannot collect on our own.” He gives you a wary smile. ”I realize it is not a glorious job, but you know what we will need and you know some of the---“ Suddenly the sound of a war horn cuts over Lyrel’s words and he stops with a frown. ”Strange, it is too soon for the patrols to be comin---“ His eyes widen as another blast of the horn fills the air; two blasts of the horn was something that had never before been heard. It meant that the gate had been activated.
Nessi Tassi is a cheery, vibrant man, with glossy waves of black hair, smouldering dark eyes, and sun-kissed skin - every bit the picture of an Alerian. Average height and weight but a fine speaker and musician, clearly so from the numerous instruments dotted around his figure.
And more besides.
Right now, he is fascinated by this halfling - and approaches when there is a gap in the crowd and they can speak with some degree of, if not *privacy*, then at least not in the faces of others.
"Hail there! That was quite a feat with the large man and his troops. What *did* you say to him to convince him to head out? And before I forget my manners entirely, I am Nestis Tassi, traveling musician, storyteller, and now refugee. At the service of my fellows, to liven spirits and help however I can!", he finishes with a slight bow and a warm smile.
How *did* he do it? I would know.
Attryn turned to Nestis.
"The words I spoke to Joshan were what they all needed to hear. I spoke to the hearts of warriors and the bonds they all shared, uniting under a common goal to oppose that which comes to us. I merely reminded them that choosing to fight together might change what they could not hope to accomplish alone. I would have gone with them but Joshan is cunning and gave me a separate task instead."
He paused for a moment, his mask and eyes betraying no emotion. "It is good that you have made it here, I think, Nestis. For when the time comes and we must depart from this land through the gate, your music and story's will help to lighten the heavy burden that these last days here will have had on many of the refugees gathered here. I suppose you can call me Darkeye."
Cole, a large man, hunched over his water, trying to recall the drinking exploits of the previous night at the Bloodstone. As he shakes the cobwebs and dehydrates his body, he feels the need to strengthen his swordplay. It was time to track down Malthurn and see if he could get some work in at the hidden academy behind the Bloodstone. As he walks to the tavern, he begins to feel better as his head clears.
He strides into the Bloodstone off the streets of Dressen. He asks 5he first worker he sees,
[b]Have ya seen Malthurn around this mornin'?[//b]
Interesting. If he speaks true, and would have gone with them, then he either seeks death or his sense of duty is strong. I can work with either.
Nestis smiles and offers his gloved hand to shake.
"Darkeye it is then. I am curious what task such a man would leave to a stranger, as I did not gather that ye knew each other. As for myself, I have tried to lift spirits here this last week, which is no small challenge! The people are keen to move on, and I do not blame them. I too would see what lies beyond this gate."
Safety. Relatively speaking.
The halfling looked at Nestis's offered hand and reached up to meet it.
"Perhaps then I could impose upon you a challenge of sorts. Joshan has tasked me with spreading the tale of him and his marauders for all to hear and remember. I think it would be best if we were to take more time to learn about those who will be staying behind to defend this place today. Travel with me and we will craft a tale of the defenders of the last gate. We will tell of those who held the line for those of us who were not able to fight on this day. But perhaps they will inspire those for the future.
What do you say, Nestis?"
Nestis barely hesitates before his cheerful reply.
"I am most certainly able and willing to do such a venture, and I will be glad to accompany you in this."
No lie. Even now, I cannot help but observe, and weigh up these defenders.
"I say that ww seek out those who would hold the rearguard, and learn all we can of them!"
"Right, in that case let's go try and find first the leaders in charge of this place. After that we should head to the walls where the current defenders are. It feels appropriate to gather various lords names first and perhaps the news that Joshan and his marauders are now planning to join the defenders will be heartening for morale."
"That sounds sensible! I have been occupied with the refugees thus fae, but we can bring good news to the defenders."
It is good news. Hopefully Joshan's band will delay or destroy many foes.
Can we remove this from the boards?