Considering Seán was worried more about his squad mates than himself, he would gladly take the last of healing. Seán didn't know if he trusted his new squad fully yet, even though he would take the hardest of hits from an enemy if necessary. He knew there was going to be a lot of tension in this squad somewhere along the lines, but Seán couldn't put his finger on where exactly. For now though, their first battle was coming up. They would sail with the big guy of this whole mercenary army, which didn't sound too good. Maybe it was a mission behind enemy lines. As long as it was fun and their was metal against metal he was all for it.

Seán listened in to Acele's and Hunter's mini conversation as he walked over to his new leader. This guy has seen a lot more than I have. I best get to know this guy well, hopefully he doesn't have a relapse on the battlefield. "You know sarge, we have quite a crew here. But I wouldn't count on it just yet. I may be inexperienced in real warfare but any rational solider knows not to underestimate his opponent." Seán stopped in front of him, where he towered over him. "Just do me a favor, hold these guys together, chances are a few of them might lose it if they have a relapse. By the way, when we are on that battlefield, you best count on me and that other heavy to lead the way. I may not know him but I am sure that with both of our combined strength we can do some amazing things, just keep that in mind." Seán deep voice trailed off as he patted Hunters shoulder and went to pick up his sword, which had dropped and tossed to the side in the fight. He wiped the sheath clean and hooked it back on. He couldn't help but smile, he had a bloody good feeling of what was to come after they got off that ship.

With the battle over, Xavier finally had the chance to get a deep breath. Inhilation was hard for him which meant that he either had several cracked ribs or seriously bruised muscles around his ribs. Either way, Xavier would need to have medical attention within a few hours before it became annoying. Xavier looked over the heavy squad they had fought and realized that they were worse for wear. A few of them seemed to have taken a beating to the head and some of the others were likely to have broken ribs. Overall, Xavier couldn't argue for Acele not to help the 4th heavy squad. Xavier walked over to the flagship and boarded with a few of the others of his squad. The ship was a beauty indeed but it seemed as if it had seen at least one fight on it.

Xavier looked once back at the beautiful top of the Alabaster City in awe. Knowing his luck, it might be the last time he ever sees the port of Alabaster City. Xavier wasn't sure if he could trust his team mates to protect his life but he knew he would protect their lives should they bee in danger. He already took a beating to help Cynric and Gods knew what he would be willing to do to protect them once he knows them better. The fact is, Xavier couldn't say he knew them all that well and it unnerved him to think about it. How could he be expect to give his life for them and vice versa if they didn't know each other? The 9th marine squad looked rough around the edges but Xavier was sure they could smooth out the edges in due time. That was the way Xavier prefered to look at life. To him, everything was put in a light of optomism.

Zyre was on his feet as he saw the last thug go down, his mercenary group had won the scuffle, he was impressed by them, their first battle together, without weapons and a surprise one at that, and they did a great job. He picked up his weaponry, sliding all of the items to the spots where they were supposed to be on his person, he then moved towards where the team was forming up, but he paused to look down at one of men who attacked the group, grabbing at his side. Zyre swung with his boot into the man's midsection, kicking hard. A grin appearing on his face as he stepped over and moved towards the ship.

The ship was a solid vessel, it had better have been after the brawl they just had to win to get the rights to her. As he stepped onboard, he noticied a drop of blood fall in front of him, he rose his gloved hand to his face to find the source, a nose bleed, one of the brutes slugged him right in the face, didn't break anything, just left a mark right below his right eye and caused his nose to bleed heavily.

He reached into one of his pockets, pulling out a handkerchief, he brought it up to his face, right where the blood was trickling out. Zyre looked around the ship, then moved towards the side, standing so that he got a beutiful view of the sea, the ships and the sun in the sky. He never loved the sea as much as his father did, but it could be beautiful at time.

Viktor looked around at the others in his new squad. They seemed to have handled themselves well, Aside from the fact that others went to help the fights of their comrades. Something he purposefully avoided. After all was this not made to be a contest of skill? A friendly challenge to prove ones strength and ability. Were these his fellow tribesman they would have scoffed if he offered to diminish their accomplishment, and belittling their honour by implying they could not handle themselves in a simple contest.

These were a strange people, he reasoned. He felt his rubs and his head as the shamaness did her rounds. He gathered she possessed Control over the Green winds, those mystical winds which could he entreated and shaped to bind wounds and set bones without a touch. While he was certainly curious as to what being under the effects of green wind might feel like. His inborn fear towards magic prevented him from attracting attention. He had bleeding cut of his head from bashing it against his foe and a few bruised ribs. Nothing was broken thank the ancestors and he had experienced far worse. He would heal, some of the others clearly felt the need for the Shamaness's touch. And some of them definatly needed it. Watching any shaman work was always a sight to behold. His tribe only had a very small handful and they were considered lucky for that amongst the other tribes who could barely boast having one shaman.

He just pulled his glaive out from the boards and made his way to this other vessel they were told to board by the venerable greybeard, who clearly seemed in command of the warriors around them all. He could respect a warrior who had the skills to grow into a ripe old age. He sighed and decided to brave his own fears and turned to the small shamaness. He waited until she was done treating the others who came and asked for her assistance. Both out of respect for wounds more grevious than his own and also so none would hear him fumble over his words as he tried to overcome his superstitions of the mystical. “Your name is Acele...” he said slowly, remembering that from the tavern. He imaged his proud and tribal appearance cut quite the contrast to her clearly softer and more innocent stance. “You are shamaness?” He ventured. His tone was filled with reverance, even respect for her position and abilities. “You can control the green winds? Can you....move the winds over my wounds?” This last question was clearly very hesitant and he gripped the shaft of his blade tightly as he forced himself to ask the request. He was very nervous that his request could be refused. He new there was another shaman with them who had control over other winds and to his mind at least all shamans were connected, regardless of tribes they were connected to each other first and formost. and if he insulted her in some way the other shaman may take offence. Well at least as far as he understood magic which was clearly not very well.

Acele was going to make her rounds on her squad, when Viktor came over and asked about the green winds and such. "I am a healer, I use the High Iskar warren, but if a shamaness is a healer with your people, then the answer is yes." She said with a smile, healing Viktor's wounds and moving on towards the others, she made her way through her squad healing as she went, as she got to the last two Iver, and Hunter she could hardly stand, her eyes felt so heavy, biting her cheek to stay awake she healed up any wounds Hunter might have and moved on.

Iver was the last one and she looked like she had just been hit over the head, channeling some of her strength into this one was hard but she did it, and healed Iver completely this time, before she fell and the whole world went black, but alas she was not dead as one could hear her snoring softly, she had just pushed herself to hard.

Viktor sucked in his breath sharply as he felt the strangest sensation along his body. This shamaness who spoke of warrens and of being a healing woman had spoken to the winds on his behalf. He felt the deep bruising on his chest fade and the gash on his forehead sealed itself. It was an odd sensation to be touched by the winds by not all together as unpleasent and strange as he feared. And the Kestrel staying on his shoulder during this was another comfort. He knew it was telling him there was nothing to fear. If it was not afraid of the winds than he had nothing to fear. He trusted in it's wisdom and it's guidance.

He did notice as she went on she seemed very tired and he felt a little guilty that maybe his wounds were graver than he suspected. Or maybe she could only entreat the winds so much, she had done so many times today for nearly twenty other people. Maybe this was the Great spirits way of maintaining balance? Ensuring this power could not be abused? This was foreign to him and he understood little of the intricacies.

But what he did know as he passed by on his way to the ship they were bound to board, was that when she buckled and feinted she was going to hit hard against the deck. Jumping forward he reached out and caught her with his one free arm and looked around. At first he didn't know is she was dead but her body was warm and her breathing wasn't shallow so he quickly dismissed this idea. Looking around He dropped his glaive and let it thump against the dock as he picked her up with both arms. This much he had experienced a handful of times with the shamans of his tribe. “I will take her on the ship.” He truned to Iver “Can you carry my weapon on board my friend?” he asked quickly before moving off towards the ship. "Sergeant!" he called to gather their leaders attention to this new turn of events. he hoped that was the right title, if not he hoped he would understand. "Is there somewhere were I must place her?"

Acele approached him looking like she had just been in another brawl. Iver started to object to her healing him, knowing what overusing magic could do to people, but Acele was determined and healed his wounds completely this time around. He felt his bruises recede and his cuts knit themselves back to normal. He was thanking the tiny Healer when she started to walk away from him. Iver jumped to his feet and ran forward to catch her when a massive metal something beat him to it; he looked up to see it was one of the Heavies of 9th squad, named Viktor.

The tribesman began carrying Acele toward the flagship, asking Iver if he would carry his weapon. With a nod, Iver picked the polearm up and followed him onto the flagship. The polearm was much heavier than he had expected. The strength needed to wield such a weapon must be great. Iver was glad he would have someone like Viktor to watch his back on the battlefield. Iver walked up to his new Sergeant as Viktor called out to get his attention.

“Sir, Acele collapsed after healing everyone in the squad without rest. Viktor here caught her as she went down and carried her here. I think she just needs to rest up, but I’m no Mage. What do you two think,” Iver directed the last question to the two Mages of 9th squad, Cynric and Tal Etai. Iver stood there waiting for an answer, holding the polearm in his hands, hoping the Healer was alright.

He may not have known her very long, but he felt he owed her for healing in the midst of the brawl and getting punched in the stomach for doing so by the other squad. If he must, he would be her bodyguard on the battlefield. He also had a respect for Viktor now for carrying the tiny Healer aboard the flagship. He didn’t know the rest of the squad very well yet, but he trusted them to watch hi back on the battlefield, as he would do the same for them. Some might think he was too trusting, but what choice did he have but to trust those around him? If he didn’t, he would never survive whatever the future held for 9 squad.

Cynric nodded his thanks to Acele when she healed him. From the looks of her Acele was pushing herself to heal everyone. She had not heeded his warning and he wasn't at all surprised when she collapsed on the floor. Shaking his head he heard Iver call to the two mages. Walking over to Viktor who was holding her he crouched down and checked her pulse and felt her forehead.

Chuckling quietly he said " Stupid Girl. All healers are the same though. Selfless people who would sacrifice there own lives for someone else. Hopefully this will teach her that she needs to think of her self a bit more than others. Can't fault her for it though."

Standing up he looked back at Iver. " She'll be fine she just needs some rest. Though when she wakes up I'll talk to her. Not sure if she was unsure of the consequences or wanted to help us but she should never push herself to hard. We're not worth her losing her life over. No offence intended but healers are one of the rarest forms of magic and to lose one from this world is not worth." Looking at Iver now he dropped his cigar onto the ground crushing the stub that was left under his boot. Picking up his sword he attached it back round his chest. Once he was happy it was attached he continued talking. "I suggest you take her to a bed so she can sleep it off hopefully there's no permanent damage but I'll examine her again when she wakes up."

With the battle over, Ana got to work re-inspecting her equipment while the sergeant bantered with whoever the hell the old guy was. As she was double and triple checking the explosives, she couldn't help but overhear that they would be on the flagship. An eyebrow raised, then she shook her head. That was unfortunate. Would be difficult to keep everything nice and hidden under that kind of watch. Her brows furrowed in annoyance, then she sealed the two crates back shut, and picked up the little bundle of cloth that hid the cusser. She gently climbed out of the cart, cradling the temperamental explosive like a child, and made way for what seemed like the flagship, being mindful of the others boarding, and swearing angrily at anyone who so much as brushed against her. Once the quarters for her squad was found, she found a nice hiding place beneath her bunk to hide the bomb for a while, then went back outside.

With a bit of persuasion, she was able to conscript two muscle-heads to carry the two crates onto the ship, and into her room. They were placed next to her bunk, right in plain view, but once the two were gone, she threw a sheet over them. Not the best way to hide them, but if she was lucky she could get something to decorate them up and make them look like a sort of table. To start, she placed her helmet on it, then went back outside. A buyer was already lined up to buy the cart and mule, and, while it wasn't exactly a deal on her part, it would make up for what she had to pay that greedy innkeeper to keep the thing safe, plus a little bit more. Plus, she was on a tight schedule, and didn't exactly have time to go bargain hunting. By the time she got back to her cart, the buyer, a farmer by the looks of him, was already inspecting everything.

Ana greeted him and quickly sealed the deal, taking his money and handing him the reigns, before sprinting back up to the ship. Whatever her squad was doing was of little concern to her, at the moment. They weren't in combat, and so long as they were on a ship by the time everyone took off, she didn't care too much. The sapper flopped down on her bunk, spread eagle, and let out a breath. It was nice to lay on something softer than wood for once.

Hunter turned around as Viktor carried Acele to him. Frowning, he shook his head. Her exhausting herself will do no good - but this wasn't bad, now everybody knew her limits and could therefore coordinate her healing more responsibly when things actually got hairy.

"Healers, eh?" replied the Sergeant, putting a hand on Acele's forehead to see if she had a fever. The skin seemed cool to him.

"We'll be sleeping in the quarters downstairs, on the hammocks." added Hunter, gazing over at the marines that have already been on the ship. Although not all of them were old or of middilng age, each and every one of them had a look of a veteran. These soldiers have already been through several battles with the Fifth Echelon - that much was obvious.

"1st Legion's 2nd and 3rd Marine Squads are aboard this ship with us. We'll be sharing the sleeping quarters downstairs with them. I recommend we put her down on a hammock downstairs, give her some time to rest."

As Hunter finished talking, he turned to see Eben Ral and his mage accomplice board the ship. The gangplank was removed from the port as the ship's sails were raised. And so they leave The Alabaster City... To god knows where.

The imposing leader looked over the ship before raising his voice. "Sergeants, have you and your squads assembled on the deck in a bell as we set sail. Orders and information will be given to you. After that... Well, we got a few barrels of rum and ale that might make the journey a tad bit more pleasant."

Several of the marines on board answered back with some Hoorays! to the alcohol remark, but Hunter knew better. Bringing alcohol with you on the ship usually meant the journey is going to be extremely long - and the leaders wanted to upkeep their soldier's morale before they hit the fray at whatever location they were sailing to.

Hunter turned around to face the squad-members that haven't scattered about yet.

"You heard the man, let's rest up and get ourselves 'comfortable' on the ship. Got to meet up on the deck in a bell."

As Hunter was about to leave downstairs to lay down for a little, he was accosted by two men - one a lithe, but tall figure with an extremely pale complexion, as well as long blonde hair. Chain armor and leather adorned his build, with startlingly blue eyes focused on Fyn. The other man was a much more down-to-earth looking fellow, with black hair and the look of a woodsman on his face - if it wasn't for the scar that reached from underneath the right eye all the way to the left corner of his mouth, or the countless tattoos all over his skin.

The pale marine begun first.

"Sergeant Hunter? I'm Sergeant Rein Loras. The brutish looking fellow to my left here is none other then Sergeant Herold Redlock. He's from the Itorian tribes of the Dissorian Forest... That scar is from his third marriage - to a bear. He also used to clip on parts of dead animals and things on his armor, but after being on the ship with him for... Well, fifteen minutes, we threatened mutiny and to throw him overboard if he didn't take them off."

Redlock shook his head with a disapproving frown.

"Shut it Loras. The scar is not from a marriage, and what the fuck would you know of our traditions that go back thousands of years, you Arrasian fairy?"

Hunter raised his eyebrow at that. Arras... Those people are seldom seen around Mirhandia, usually isolated all the way to the south of the continent by The Graedurha Mountains. The Whitewater Sea, and all the unknown expanse that goes to the south of it, brought in beastlings and strange creatures on the shore of Arras - which always kept that nation in military readiness. Fyn couldn't help but chuckle as the two Sergeants bickered. Looks like this was a frequent argument.

"Sergeant Loras, Sergeant Hairlock... I'm Sergeant Hunter. Wish I could tell you which mystic, far off land or tribe I'm from, but unfortunately I'm originally from the Jadelyn Empire. " began Hunter. "Was with the Jadelyn 1st until it's... Demise. After that, been all around the world, to be honest... and I'm no stranger to your homelands."

Loras smirked, regarding Fyn with a curious glance. "No better army has been fielded by any nations in hundreds of years..."

Redlock nodded in agreement. "Sergeant... We've been through a lot in the past year. And by Oponn's luck, we're alive. We saw your squad take on the heaviest at the port, and we're impressed. But excuse me for stating that we're not that impressed. We need to have each other's back out there. Make sure your squad is up for it - as I don't want anybody in my squad dropping because of your squad's failings."

Fyn put his hands behind his back as he looked over at Eben.

"Sergeant, I promise you that no such fuck ups or mistake will come from my squad... As long as you can promise me the same"

Loras and Redlock grinned at each other for a second, before clapping Hunter on the shoulder.

"Welcome to our Marine division then, Sergeant."

Iver nodded to Hunter as he instructed Viktor what to do and followed the man below deck, still carrying the Heavy’s massive polearm. The smaller of the two men quickly found a hammock of his own to sprawl out on and leave his traveling sack under. After making claim to the hammock, Iver made his way over to where Acele was now lying down. He handed Viktor his polearm back and pulled a crate over to sit down on next to Acele’s hammock. The least he could do was watch over her while she was asleep and make sure she was alright after her collapse.

The Marine positioned his makeshift chair against a wall so he could lean back a little and rest a bit after the brawl he had been through. He sat there and began to feel the ship start to leave the docks with a sudden shift into a swaying motion. He heard yells of wine from above and allowed a smirk to overcome his face. Of course there would be plenty of alcohol on the ship; they were not actual soldiers under any certain land’s laws, they were mercenaries and only had loyalty to one another.

“Viktor, where are you from again? I’m sorry, but my memory fails me.”

It was true, with the brawl and everything that had happened since the tavern meeting Iver forgot where Viktor said he was from and what his story was; he remembered why he had joined though. Iver allowed his mind to drift, wondering where they were headed or what they were to do once they got there.

Cynric followed Hunter onboard the ship chuckling to himself. Cynric found the whole healer fainting situation hilarious. In his time around people of magic he had seen much worse, yet everyone was fussing over one girl who doesn't know her limits. They had no true loyalty to each other only to their leader and current employer. Cynric saw this girl as more of a liability then a help. If she kept pushing herself and healing people when she knew she could not she would end up dead. What good is a dead healer?

Now onboard he found the sleeping quarters and undid the belt holding his sword to his waist. Placing the scabbard on the floor he got into the hammock. Cynric only just realised how tired he was. His whole body ached. However he was alive and well so how could he complain. Getting out of the hammock he stumbled slightly on his sword. Growling he reattached the sword and went looking for the healer. He didn't have to go look for long. Finding her in a hammock being looked over by Iver.

"You know you should just leave her be. Every person of magic knows that you have to face the consequences when you over use a Warren. She's lucky she didn't kill herself. Her safety should take importance over ours. True I asked her to heal me but she should learn her limits. I know this may sound harsh but if she doesn't learn when to stop then one day she'll push herself to hard and next thing she'll be without magic or dead."

Cynric had pulled up a crate to talk to Iver, looking over at Acele he smiled. "To be so kind, the fault of every healer. They don't know when to stop helping."