Also definitely still interested!
And glad to hear you all are too!
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At the prospect of combat... of real combat... against real people, Shea finds her mouth has suddenly gone dry, in contrast to the sweat rapidly forming on her brow and in her palms. OK, this is what you've been training for... for so long... you can do it this time... you can... Keeping her voice down, she adds Probably better than letting them report back." Turning to the others, she asks What do you two think?
At the sign of the preparing Calvary, Shea turns to Tarr and says "Ok, we've got to get the message to the rear flank about this before we get pincered."
Shea nods at Sloade and begins to suggest that they should stay with their unit when Tarr suggests moving forward. SHe does take a moment to whisper "Maybe we should have someone watch the cliff while we climb..." She wipes the sweat from her hands as they begin moving towards the valley walls, trying to keep her calm and take deep breaths...
For the scorpion bit, I don't mind being either, but I have no skills at it either. I'd be good at being a lookout though!
The days of marching, and especially the time spent scouting, was wearing thin on Shea. As the battle drew closer she slept less and less comfortably, her recurring dream continuing to haunt her sacred time. But she did her best to push it away when others were around. But this day, this feels wrong. Her hand grips her sword pommel tightly as they continue their search, the hairs on the back of her neck on end. I don't know how much longer I can do this. I've got to remain strong but... T'riss, what does it all mean? When the alarms sound she quickly draws her sword and mutters under her breath "Not what I intended, but my thanks none-the-less..."
Shea smiles at Sloade's victory howl and replies "No need to thank me. It was your own ability that saw you through!"
Shea watches earnestly at the last two combatants. That ritualistic dance, the rhythm in their breathing, the way they sync up their postures, it all entrances her. And when Sloade finally gets the upper hand and his opponent crashes, she cheers and moves to him, patting his back and saying "You did well Howl!" Far, far better than I expected!
Storyteller/Rafi:
Shea gives one a look that is a mixture of confusion and annoyance as she asks "What portal? Is that what a portal opening feels like?" Shea gives a whistle when Mud falls. She doesn't like the idea of Sloade going up against someone named 'throatslitter', but he has done alright so far. "C'mon Howl, Take 'im out!"
Storyteller and Rafi:
Up to this point Shea had been quiet, even complacent. But their blatant disregard causes her to grit her teeth, square her shoulders, and say "Hey, wait a minute. What's going on? And why did you say I was a mage?" - - - - -
Shea watches this show with interest, not really caring about the bet, or the scorpion, but just happy to have some interesting distraction from their laborious march. With a raised fist she shouts But you've got to do better than this...
Earlier - Storyteller/Rafi: Shea scrunches her brow, trying her best to keep her body language loose and non-threatening. Softly, she replies "Because I didn't know that I was one." Not that Graham never tried to teach me. He always said he saw... something... but nothing ever came of it... Trying her best to sound neither indignant nor ignorant, she asked "Was doing so a mistake?"
No problems!
While this isn't helpful, either is fine with me. We could, potentially, get some good inter-party roleplay out of it, but if the others want to continue, and solidify our bonds as brothers, I could get behind that as well.
storyteller: Shea nods at the mage, replying simply "The guards told me it was nothing. And while I figured something was happening, I also figured it was not for me. Should I have reacted differently?"
Shea snaps her head towards the call of her nickname, and glances back at her unit, and Rafi, for a moment, before silently walking off towards the mages. Don't panic. Keep your hands away from weapons, don't look in their eyes...
Shea nods her head lightly a few times, before giving a faint shrug. "I don't know. I felt an odd sensation that I can't really describe, and the feeling... originated from there. The guards say it's my imagination."
Shea turns to Rafi, staring at his feet for a moment, her eyes showing confusion for a moment, before she asks "Which 'that' are you asking about?"
Shea looks at the guards for a moment, and then nods and turns to return to the others. I know I felt something... but clearly I'm not supposed to know. I'm still never sure when it's appropriate to push back and when to just accept rank... But I know I felt something... Returning back to the others, she asks "Ok, so what's going on now?"
She looks Sloade up and down for a moment. He's been emboldened by that mock fight with Whiskyjack. Better he get that energy out now, and know his limits, than to go into a war expecting to be able to defeat anything, Nodding with a grin, she responds "That's fine with me. Make us proud!"
Guards: Shea faces the guards, a puzzled look on her face, and just asks "Is something going on? Did you not feel... whatever that was?"
Shea just kind of absent-mindedly mutters back "I've... no idea either..." She begins to walk towards the tent, wondering if she can figure out what this strange feeling is.
Shea turns towards the commanders tent. That was... odd. Very odd. Loudly, even to the other groups, she asks "Did anyone else feel that?"
She looks over at the collection of soldiers with a raised eyebrow. They must be desperate for entertainment if they are so quick to bet without having any idea of what to bet about... "Why not make it simple. A count of numbers. S%*%es are 1 point, Ambers are 2, Bastards are 3. Most points come morning meal are the winners." I'm in no position to judge. I've never really bothered to catch scorpions before... yet here I am volunteering time to chance getting myself stung...
Shea turns to the others in the squad, her eyebrows scrunched in a bit of exasperated confusion. "Well, it sounds like we're going on a bughunt. Each squad is going to go collect scorpions... or a single scorpion... honestly, I wasn't told much." She lets out a sigh before looking at Koryk. I was expecting some to rest and watch some fights... oh well, a bet's a bet. "There are three kinds: a very mean red one, a very poisonous translucent one, and one that looks like it came out of the worse end of a vulture. I have no idea how they compare to one another."
Shea continued to watch the fight, raising an eyebrow at the ending. I'm sure he let them win. I just can not believe that the two of them actually bested him. Not in the least to their discredit... It's just unbelievable. But the statement about shared punishment turned her amused smile into a frown. It wasn't the extra drills that would bother her, but the loss of sleep was nearly sacrilegious, literally and metaphorically. She gave a sideways glance towards Aloft before letting out a heavy sigh.
Shea draws over to the mock-combat, watching with an intense interest. Whiskyjack has already shown his skill once, and it will be interesting to see if Howl is any less Green. At the comment about fighting side-by-side she ruffles her eyebrows slightly. I thought that was more of an expression of kinship... not to be taken literally... this is an odd army indeed, being so willing to give up an advantage like that...
Shea turns to Koryk with a confused look. The warriors want to catch bugs? I mean, dangerous ones, sure... but still... She asks "How do we det-" but she is cut off by the cry from Whiskyjack. She stands from her crouch and turns to listen, her posture at full attention.
Shea, pulling out some coins, tosses them in the pile without looking back at Ti'ck and replies "Representing us in a little wager."
Shea turns to Koryk with a smile. Friendly competition eh? This could be interesting. A welcome distraction from the current boredom, and some good rest for an exhausted mind. Her smile turns to a grin as she replies "Ok, I'm in. And I volunteer Ti'ck for our side." her thumb hooked towards the plated one. With that armor on I doubt any of the others could even do much to it. Not given their current state.
Shea nods at both Dujek and Koryk, without saying anything. She takes the ladle from the water barrel, and has a few gulps of water, before filling her waterskins. What are we scouting for, I wonder? Are they expecting the enemy to send troops out this far? Are they that well equipped? We've been told so little about this foe... I hope that Koryk knows how to be quiet when the mission calls for it. This heat drains my strength... It's not that the armor is that bad, but at least it was fairly tolerable back on the island... I just hope that the cool of night will bring some comfort... both physically AND mentally.
Shea nods at the amber skinned man and replies "I think you underestimate the Lady's domain. Are you not in this battle because of the dreams of many men, both your commander's and yourself? Is your foe not here because of his own dreams, as well as his superior's? When you awoke this morning, whose realm did you leave, either rested or tired? Should you live, whose domain will guide your future?" Smiling, she adds "Go ahead, pray to the Lord of Battles. But there is much more that determines the outcome of a battle than just the brief moments of the battle itself. The Queen of Dreams has led me to train myself to prepare for this, to make myself strong. You're asking for the Battle Lord to save you should you not be able to save yourself, which you just argued was the position of the fool." Realizing that maybe she had slipped into being just a little too informal, too much like the monks back at the monastery, she removes the grin from her face and adds a "... Sir ..."
Shea had been conditioned for marching in her youth but had never really experienced it. It seemed painfully slow, at least compared to her own travels with Graham. Though she wasn't sure if it was truly the pace or simply the company. She listens with interest to the sergeants in front of her, not expecting such philosophy from the two of them. Though, in hindsight, it does seem like an appropriate time for it. Rafi's responses causes her to ruffle her nose. What is his problem? Why the attitude? She raises her voice in response "You're not arguing against each other, merely representing two halves of the same whole." Motioning to Dujek, she says "You're correct that faith is all we have, and that without it all effort is doomed to despair." Motioning to the other "And you are correct that faithful inaction is just as useless as faithless inaction." She then continues "But you need both action and faith. One without the other is doomed to failure." She closes her eyes for a moment and makes a sign about her forehead, softly saying "To accomplish great things one must not only act, but also dream; not only plan, but also believe."
Shea arrives back at the tent, more than a little lost in thought and long avoided memories. Ok, time to prepare... got to make sure I'm ready for this. Seeking to distract herself, she drops to the ground, taking pushup position in full gear, and doesn't stop until her arms give out. - - - - - In the time before their deployment Shea spends her days in intense physical training, and her nights in prayer. More than once she falls asleep kneeling on the floor next to her cot.
- - - - - The battle rages all around, the sound of steel on steel deafening, the smell of sweat and blood hanging thickly over the city. The enemies seem endless, and in the chaos of it all strategy has been lost as mass combat spreads across the field. Slowly, Shea and her squad make progress, inching their way towards the central keep. But she is growing tired. Her spear feels heavy in her hands, the wood slick with sweat and ichor. She knows her movements have slowed, her body struggling to keep up with her will. She shuffles past the body of a fellow soldier, slumped back against a wall, the female warrior's skull split open. 'There is so much more to do... and so much blood and death already...' she mutters under her breath as she pauses to catch her breath. The torn face of the soldier looks familiar to her, and she leans in to examine it closer. Suddenly, the head lifts and Shea finds her own face staring back at her, the eyes dead and lifeless, the jaw hanging loosely as a fresh trickle of thick blood runs down its chin and neck. Shea stumbles back and trips, falling back against a wall, raising her head just in time to see an enemy soldier charging her, his sword held high. Shea awakens with a gasp, sweat dripping from her face. She quickly makes the sign of T'riss as she gasps for breath, quietly muttering to herself "The same dream... night after night... but what does it signify?" Calming down, she drags herself into her cot, her body aching and feeling feverish. "I guess I'll find out soon enough... We march tomorrow..."
@Aku, Can we get a quick reference to each of the other squad members (and maybe important superiors)? Either in the Campaign page or a link to a doc in the overview?
Shea closes her eyes and replies "It looks like we have a job to do. I suggest we prepare ourselves for it." before turning and walking back to her tent. Best be prepared for it indeed... Well, I guess I'm spending the next few days in training...
She looks at Sergeant Dujek when he announces their plans for deployment, but her eyes are unfocused, her mind obviously elsewhere. War... well, I was going to head that way eventually, wasn't I? I guess it was only a matter of time... can't run from destiny forever... Her hands clenched tightly for a moment, but when she is brought back when called upon, replying "Braven Truth, Sir!"
@Aku - Ah, did not realize that. Well, let's just call it practice.
The training was both new and familiar to Shea at the same time. These Malazan soldiers had an odd combination of the aloofness of her people, combined with a dependency on each other that went beyond what she was adjusted to. The at times loose, at times strict, form of their chain of command still confused her, and she was never sure when to be formal and when to relax a little. Sloade, or Green Howl as he was called, was an interesting one, to be sure. He seemed to have a lot of dedication, but was still so wet behind the ears. She wondered what drove him to join a place such as this. Then again, she could ask herself the same question and probably not have a better answer in his eyes. Ti’ck was an interesting one too. He… she… it never seemed to leave that armor, and Shea wondered what it was like to live in a shell like that. Even this chain had seemed restrictive at first. But that odd plate that Ti’ck wore barely seemed to slow them down. Maybe it’s just a matter of training. After all, a full sword was once heavy and awkward in my hand. And in my dream I wore a set of heavy steel. Maybe this is a sign, blessed T’riss. - - - - - Shea looked at the shelled creature holding the bowl for a moment. Not in the eyes, just in its general direction, before taking the offered object. She looked at it a moment, taking in the scent of the green liquid. It smells like the herbs from the healers tent. That stuff they applied to me that night. She took a cloth and began to dab the mixture onto Sloade’s bruises and and welts. ”Bruises… more generally, injuries.” There was quiet between the two of them for a moment, the quiet of two who are not sure what to say, or how to say it. ”Thank you.” Shea added, breaking the silence.
Shea sat on a stool, resting after the harsh combination of training and chores, when the bulky one rose from his deep slumber. At his rhetorical question, she merely looked him in the face for a moment and nodded. Though his laughter turned coughing fit did manage to wring a smirk from her. - - - - - The next morning Sloade awakens to a warm, wet feeling on his chest and arms, Shea standing over him with her eyes closed, mouthing something silently, her hands open a warm compress on his chest. Upon his stirring, she opens her eyes and nods without looking at him "Whiskeyjack did quite a number on you. Nearly killed you, despite him trying to go gentle." Removing the cloth and tossing it in a bowl, she begins to walk away but stops at the door to the tent, her back to him, and says "With treatment in the morning and evening, you'll workable in a day or so, and back to full strength within by the end of the week." She faltered for a moment, as if unsure of what to do, before finally adding "It took courage to face him like that. You did well." before exiting the tent.
Shea saw the budding challenge and watches with great interest. She was curious about how these Malazanians would handle such challenges of authority, and was looking forward to gauging the abilities of her companions and leaders. But it was over so quickly. Too quickly. She was quite disappointed. With a tight lipped frown, she responds "Yes Sir." So we must pay for his short comings? I guess that would be true on the battlefield, given how these people fight. And it isn't that different from what I'm used to. It just feels... odd. She moves forward to take her portion of the their shared burden.
Shea listens intently, trying to commit all of the ranks and regimens to memory. At least the ranking system was easier. Highest rank was in command. Collect into groups as ordered. End of story. But all of this... When Whiskeyjack asks for questions Shea speaks up, asking "At this point, do we have rank and if so, what are they, Sir? Also, who is the leader of the 4th squad, Sir?"
@Zayne, Looks like we'll be two peas in a pod then, as I'm an unmasked Segulah (intending to make a red mask eventually) that also is studied in the Path of Denul. And while it isn't a staff, I'm kind of like a breed between an inquisitor and a magus that specializes in polearms. : )
When told to be less formal, Shea salutes Whiskeyjack and loosens her form a bit, her feet sliding slightly wider apart, her arms loosening. She listens to the stuttering of the large man standing in line with her, not glancing over but wondering what it means to be put together in the same unit as him. He's so uncomfortable. Does he know something I don't? What did the recruiter see in him? Or did I get placed in the unit of lowest competency?... Maybe I'm being too harsh... And then there is the Moranth. Shea can't help but steel a glance at that one, the odd and... its odd, shell-like armor. Indeed, a collage of many, many people in this Army... This is the first time I've seen one of them before... But I've seen pieces of that armor before... or at least one like it... Best not to tell it that... When Whiskeyjack turns to face her, Shea continues to look down. But when he mentions being unmasked, she can't hide the surprise when she glances up at him, examining his face before averting her eyes again. How... how did he know that?... Trying to stay calm, she replies "Of course, Lieutenant"
Shea glances at Lieutenant Whiskeyjack from off in the distance for a few minutes before coming over, watching the officer’s mannerisms, as well as the other recruits that move to speak with him. He’s young, but that doesn’t mean much… He’s clearly seen battle… Still, his demeanor and bearing seem to indicate strength… and hopefully competence… Well, enough staring, time to see what my future holds. She walks over to Whiskeyjack, looking down as she stands before him, and introduces herself. ”Sir, I’m Shea, reporting for duty in the Marines from Drill Sergeant Tooth. I believe he called me ‘Braven Truth’, Sir, if that makes a difference.”
Shea nods and replies “Sir yes Sir! Thank you Sir!” before walking away. She then leaves to find this Lieutenant Whiskeyjack, keeping the straight-backed posture of being in front of the drill Sergeant, her thoughts running a bit. Hmm, so humility is appreciated? Is that why they were being so insulting before? Strange customs these soldiers have. Or was that just the personality of Sir Tooth? It’s amazing how different these people are than… well… every soldier I’ve ever met before.
Tooth!: Shea avoids meeting the instructor’s eyes, looking away as his own roam her form. She responds in a clear, strong voice ”Sir, I have experience with weapon repair, as well as equipment maintenance and organization. I’m quick on my feet, can ride a horse, and am trained in a variety of spears and polearms, Sir. I am also one who walks the path of Denul, Sir, though I have only recently started to tread said path.”
Shea is quiet for a moment, seemingly confused, before continuing ”Sir, I am unsure which, if any, I am the best at. Given the more experienced soldiers here, I am inclined to say none, Sir.”
Shea stood in line, one of many of the new and varied recruits. Her youth, smooth skin and long, braided blond hair would make one believe that she fit in with the baby-faced idyllics that joined out of some misbegotten desire to live out childhood legends. But several things betray that image of naivete: the many tattoos covering her exposed skin, the straight and guarded way that she stands at attention, the hard look in her eyes, all these things hint at a kinship far closer with the seedier amongst them. These ones have a strange way of addressing their recruits. I’ve never seen a leader be so disrespectful of those wishing to dedicate themselves to their cause. This… will be trying… I can tell that already. Upon being dismissed she took the time to glance amongst the other recruits, careful to avoid meeting eyes with any of them. The obviously wide range of skill, life experience, social standing, even social mannerism being new to her in a military setting. It’s as if most of them have barely held a weapon, much less used one. She began her walk back to her tent, the rattle of her chain armor irritating her. It had taken time for her to get used to the weight, being much heavier than the cloth and leather that she had worn previously. The short training on the way here had been boring, even stifling, and the drill instructors seem none too pleased with her unusual fighting style. Still, she was here to learn, to see what the supposedly great Malazan army had to offer. So far, she was unimpressed. But the Captain had been right, many cities had fallen to this army, so they must be doing something right. I trust in you T’riss. I just hope that I’m prepared for where you are leading me.
The eyes of the woman turn to face the Staff Sergeant, the muscles in her jaw tightening. For a brief moment she just stares. Calm down, no need to start a fight now… he meant no offense. It’s just their way… Again she redirects her eyes before simply replying ”Shea… Sir”
Shea must have been an interesting sight, firstly because a woman wearing holy robes wished to join the military, and secondly because the holy woman was covered in scrawling black tattoos and carried a crude spear on her back that looked to be little more than a shaved down branch lashed with an iron tip. But despite the unusualness of it all her eyes were strong, if slightly averted, when she stood, straight backed, in front of the Staff Sergeant and replied with a simple "Yes Sir."
Also, I'm reporting for duty!
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