"Sir! Colonel Shar, sir!" A breathless ferret called out as he burst through the flaps of the officer's tent. The wolf sat in his medium-weight armour, geared for battle, his black cloak draped over his shoulders. The cloak was trimmed in gold and the symbol on the back was a golden pawprint emblazoned over two silver, crossed blades. The brooch that held the cloak together was of a similar style, though fashioned in all gold. Leaning against his chair was his falcata sword, and in his right hand, he held a small ruby pendant. It appeared as though a claw grasped the gem... An heirloom from his uncle, who had been his caretaker for nearly all of his life. His light green eyes turned up to his lookout and he smirked.
"Yes..?" There was a pause as the ferret caught his breath, "Well? Out with it boy!" He urged, his interest now piqued.
After a few more pants, the young scout spoke, "Sir... Their sentry... spotted the... tracks... He turned around and did not spot me..."
The colenol smirked as he released the pendant from his neck, grabbing his bow from nearby and sheathing his blade. "Good work, son, now go let the others know." He wanted the camp to be found... Something about the adrenaline of battle thrilled him. He followed the scout out, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the camp. His men ran about, gathering their weapons and armour, gearing up for battle. He turned his head toward the end of the camp which the tracks supposedly led to. It only took a few minutes before his men were lined up, uniform and ready. Sure, their armour wasn't of the highest grade, their weapons weren't the strongest, and their pay was low... But these men were serious, having more spirit than any other army in their modern world. Their country was growing poor as time went on... Their leader was not the most intelligent, but Colenol Shar believed that pursuing this new land would be bountiful for their nation. The resource could be helpful and improve their economic standing. However, Emperor Lyons was weak-willed and was in no fit shape to personally lead his troops. The colonel was not first-in-command, but he was definitely influential in their foreign war. He was also one of the best swordsmen in His Majesty's Army.
The wolf pulled out his bow before looking to his men, calling out in a strong, affirmative voice. "Ready?! MARCH!" There was a responsive, "Huh!" As they stepped forward in perfect step. The Colonel walked in front of all of them. He was clearly in command, and often officers would not march in the front, or battle at all, but he loved the feeling of each kill... The danger of combat. He got the first shot, the first kill, every time. Minutes later, he held up a hand, squeezing a fist. "Positions!" They were at an abandoned farm, a vantage point he had planned to utilize for this exact situation. The archers climbed to the rooves, hiding from the view of the opposing forces and many of the swordsmen took up their own positions hiding or being spread out. There were two Lieutenants on either side of Colonel Shar and two archers on either side of them, arrows drawn in their bows. Shar stood still, bow in one hand, an arrow loosely nocked with the other, but not drawn. The squad remained in their place, waiting for their enemies at a point that was one-third of the way between their original camp and the other force moving toward them.