[IC] Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

[DELETED324324]

Thom Chaff Garleton: The Evacuation, Evening

The guardsmen let the prince finish his back, and forth with the bandit leader before giving another sigh. This rabble would likely dissipate with the death of their leader but there was a few men between him, and their leader. As he settled his sights oh his target the mercenary with the wyvern swooped in, taking his kill. Not that he cared as long as the enemy was dead. He turned to the two other guardsmen with him after he took in his other target. "Stay with the prince, be his shield. You move when he moves." He ordered, before charging forward moving to engage one of the archers. The archer seeing the big bull of the man charging him knocked, and loosed an arrow at him. It struck him right in the hip, it managed to slow the charge down to a limp, but the archer still didn't have enough time to knock another arrow as the ax cleaved through his paltry bow, but Thom wasn't done yet. He knocked the other man to the floor so he wouldn't have time to recover enough to draw another weapon, and went to bring his ax down. An arm shot up to try to soften the blow of the ax, but it severed right through the arm leaving the bandit screaming, but with another downward swing of his ax the screams quickly turned into a wet gargle, then silence.

_________________________ Status: Upright, and defending Class: Guard Inventory: Vulnerary Iron Axe

[Sho Minazuki]

BOSS BATTLE!

ENEMY!

• Bandit Leader
• Bandit (Engaged with Trace, +5 EXP upon kill)
• Bandit Archer (Einar +5 EXP)
• Bandit Archer (Branna/Thom +5 EXP)
• Bandit (New!)

Participants

Alnard
Branna @Typical
Trace @Haeo
Thom @Enalais
Einar @Savo

Within moments both the archers were down for the count with a wounded brigand and his beefier superior who was still untouched. He took this opportunity to charge right for Alnard, barreling through not much frankly, as everyone seemed to strut past him for the archers save for Trace, who was experiencing a counter-attack from the bandit he skewered. He would go down quickly after whatever counter-attack he could muster, as he was bleeding profusely from Trace's attack.

The heavy axe of the bandit leader swung down towards Alnard. Knowing he could not hope to defend against it with a sword, he swept back, before delivering a counter-attack with his sword. The oaf moved well enough to avoid a major injury. Yet he smiled as he looked at Alnard. Or rather... He noticed his eyes moving beyond him.

Before he heard the warcry, he heard their heavy steps. Another bandit emerged from one of the houses, dropping a sack as he did, as it seems he was looting the house, and swung for Alnard, who could but block his attack and deliver whatever counter-attack he could.

[Savo]

Einar

Lothian Empire || Garleton: Plaza || Evening

With a shriek and a gurgle, the archers life left his body as swiftly as the blade that had tore through his chest, bit more messy than last time, but Einar still had that same bravado as he did before. Looking at his own weapon, he gave it a light shake as the blood splattered into the dirt, making quite the murky color, but this was no time to dally. Slightly angling his head to the left, he was able to catch a quick glimpse at the ensuing action as he saw that common soldier dash past him, attempting to take advantage of the opening before seeing that same draconian visage soar on by, with its creepy, one-eyed rider skewering that same archer who was overwhelmed by this whole situation. There was one tiny loose end in the back of his mind as he pivoted around and planted his feet firmly in the ground, holding his sword up, only to witness a still very much alive Bandit that was bleeding out and Thom leaving Alnard to do... something. He gave a dirty glance to the other two, scowling and shaking his head as he witnessed the scene, only to watch the Bandit Leader take advantage of this insignificant amount of time to try and strike down the Prince. Those two guards that accompanied the big guy wouldn't be much use right now as they looked to be preoccupied with some other Bandits, trying to fend them off. That was enough to prompt the mercenary to sheathe his messy sword and swipe up the iron bow the corpse was still clinging too and one of their arrows from the pouch and aimed at the man, only to see Alnard deftly avoid the swing and ineffectively counter-attack, "Figures." "Now, how did Bel do this exactly," he pondered, awkwardly nocking the arrow and pulling the string with it back, hand trembling a bit as his eyes shifted constantly, his own movements wavering and uncertain as the archer he cut down, but less erratic, "tch, she made this look easier." Holstering the bow and redrawing his stained blade, he noticed a figure behind the Prince; more notably, they were tossing a sack off to the side of them, a couple of knickknacks and coin spilling out. Unsurprisingly, it was another bandit, but that was a problem as Einars eyes widened for a brief moment before squinting, peering at the Brigand that had emerged from the flames. He couldn't exactly use a bow, so he thought of the next best thing as he held up his free arm for a second, hand wide open, before dropping it back down and grimacing. "Crap, I can't just do that on a whim, I might hit Alnard, or even friggin' miss." As much as he wanted to rush, he quickly evaluated the scene, eyes scanning as he flew over the battlefield for a quick glimpse before groaning and rushing forward. "Those dumbasses..." There was no way he could get to Alnard on time, especially without incurring an opportunistic attack from the Leader, and further more even if that guy did injure one of the Bandits he was still a liability, so Einar did what he only could in this situation. As he sprinted throughout the blaze, he drove his blade into the weakened bandit, plunging it into the mans back, forcing the man to topple over and skid on the ground. Einar's knee was now resting on a newly minted corpse as he whipped his head around to look at the rider and soldier behind him, mouthing only two words to the duo. "Get. Him."

_________________________ Status: Could be worse Class Page Inventory Iron Sword [3/3] Vulnerary [3/3] Iron Bow Experience 15/15 Stats END: D STR: D MAG: C DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: E LCK: E Action Finishing a Bandit off Supporting Alnard (@Sho Minazuki) Branna (@Typical) Thom (@Enalais) Trace (@Haeo)

[Typical]

---

Branna Naves

---

^{Western Street || Lothian Empire: Garleton || Evening}

With a cry, the new bandit announced his arrival, heading straight for the lordling who was only moments earlier preoccupied with the bandit leader. While Branna’s smile didn’t leave her lips, her delight had vanished, and she watched with vague interest as her future coin supplier struggled. It seemed she’d been hired to play bodyguard as well, which had never been a particularly nice job for her skill set. Killing was easy when compared to trying to keep someone alive, especially someone who was a target like the lordling, and Branna wondered briefly whether it’d be easier to just sit back and let things play out. While she’d lose a large job, no job was a guarantee, and in her experience it was often easier to stack many small jobs instead of spending forever on a long one. That said, the lordling wasn’t all helpless, and Branna was already bored waiting. The swordsman from earlier drew closer, mouthing something. Though Branna didn't bother trying to catch it, she got the message well enough, with him being a fellow sellsword and all. So, shooting a grin at the guard closest to her, she hefted her spear and patted Mors. “The smaller one,” she croaked. Mors pushed up and swooped towards the new bandit with a growl, and Branna lined her lance up, her eye flicking to the bandit head right before her spear struck home. Hit hard and run was her tactic, after all, not taking hard hits.

_________________________ Status: Bodygaurd Duty, kinda Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 15 Inventory: Iron Spear Vulnerary Stats END: D STR: C MAG: E DEX: D SPD: C DEF: E RES: E LCK: D

[Haeo]

Trace Retloth
Western Street Boss Battle

Trace landed a good strike and pulled back quickly, slipping to the side to evade the dying bandit’s counter blow. Still, Trace wasn’t enough of a novice to leave an enemy alive so he prepared another strike. But, he didn’t end up having to deliver it as the impatient swordsman stepped in to finish the bandit off. It seemed that he was arrogant as well as impatient. Maybe that nonsense before the fight wasn’t a strategy. Maybe it was just his personality. Unfortunate. Trace did notice what the man mouthed but was already turning by then. With the archers and the front line bandit eliminated there were only two threats remaining and the little lordling could probably handle the regular bandit that he was squared off against. The Bandit Leader, though… he would be trouble and he was presently behind the Prince’s back. It was a bad moment. But, the situation improved with strong wing beats as the wyvern rider decided to dive in and attack the bandit. Good. She was faster than Trace was and could probably finish that fight in an instant. This left Trace free to concentrate on his chosen target, the bandit leader. The leader wasn’t really paying attention to anyone other than the Prince but he was probably a better fighter than the others. So, Trace stayed light on his feet and struck with a sweeping blow as soon as he got in range. Hopefully, he could slash the bandit leader’s dominant shoulder and weaken him. If the leader’s abilities were below what Trace expected, then he would commit more fully to the next attack. But, for now, he focused on preparing to evade the likely counter-attack.

_________________________ Status: Uninjured but Cautious Class: Recruit Inventory: Iron Lance Exp:10

[Sho Minazuki]

BOSS BATTLE!

ENEMY!

• Bandit Leader (Engaged with Alnard/Trace)
• Bandit (Einar/Trace +5 EXP)
• Bandit Archer (Einar +5 EXP)
• Bandit Archer (Branna/Thom +5 EXP)
• Bandit (Branna +5 EXP)

Participants

Alnard
Branna @Typical
Trace @Haeo
Thom @Enalais
Einar @Savo

Alnard was locked in combat with the Bandit Leader. Before the bandit appearing behind him could strike, black draconic wings swooped past him as Branna engaged him in combat, striking a convincing blow. If the blow did not kill, the bandit would be at least forced to back off, but their ability to sense danger was a bit lacking, after all.

In the middle of their clashes, Alnard would manage to take a step back, before the Bandit Leader would find himself being attacked by Trace. The sweeping blow was not one he could simply evade in this circumstance, forced to turn and block the attack, giving Alnard a chance to blast him with a ball of fire.

As the interaction came to an end, Branna had already cleaned up the new bandit, and the leader himself was now surrounded. Trace, Einar, and Thom behind him, while Alnard and Branna were at his front, with a burning wound across his chest. The end was not long it seemed for him. He could not run, and even if he did, the burning buildings would serve to block his path as the flames raged and the city began to crumble.

[Savo]

Einar

Lothian Empire || Garleton: Plaza || Evening

A sigh of relief left his lips as he watched the lady and her dragon soar off after their payday, resting there for a second before standing up before realizing there was a small issue - his sword was stuck. The blade was driven completely through the sods body and he saw the extent that he went into this assault, looking at the slim grooves in the dirt behind him, "Might of went a bit overboard on one guy." But then again, they didn't finish this dude off, so whatever, it was justified, at least right now. Standing up, he pressed his foot against the spine of the corpse as he tightly gripped the blade that was lodged in the body and dirt and gave a rough jerk to pull it out. While this did waste time, Einar counted his blessings, as this time having other bodies wasn't a complete liability to him as his weapon slowly began to unfastened. As he continued jerking back and forth, the mercenary caught a couple of things out of the corner of his eyes. For starters, the dragon lady managed to slay the newest bandit looking to harass Alnard and that other fellow with the spear was looking to engage and catch their leader off-guard. While watching this, Einar's blade became looser and looser before it finally popped out, causing him to stumble back, but not before he witnessed a flash of fire from the princelings hand, igniting the back of the leader, who looked to be in a tight spot. "Welp, time to finish this," he thought, studying the leader of this bandits for a second, before dashing forward. While he was still busy blocking that other mans spear, Einar took the opportunity to soar past the weapons of the two, sword raised to the side before he swung at the bandit leaders guts, looking to spill them in one decisive strike.

_________________________ Status: Time to end this Information Class Page Inventory Iron Sword [2/3] Vulnerary [3/3] Iron Bow Experience 15/15 Stats END: D STR: D MAG: C DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: E LCK: E Action Using the Weapon Art, Decisive Strike, on the Bandit Leader Supporting Alnard (@Sho Minazuki) Branna (@Typical) Thom (@Enalais) Trace (@Haeo)

[Typical]

---

Branna Naves

---

^{Western Street || Lothian Empire: Garleton || Evening}

The new bandit proved no more a challenge than his fallen compatriots, and Mors swung around to a halt as Branna surveyed the state of the street. With only one target left and a few too many people to engage him, having Mors try to maneuver inn for a hit would be like encouraging him to tussle over scraps. That the last target appeared to be the leader of the inexperienced crew, though, came second to Branna’s impatience. Urging Mors closer, she smiled, watching the unfortunate, axe-wielding soul look about the motley crew of empire folk and sellswords surrounding him. He seemed to recognize his situation, recognize that there was little he could do except accept his fate, and that prompted a low, raspy laugh from her. With the lordling beside her threatening further burns, she waited, savoring the moment as the others circled in. He struggled, he fought, and he flailed, his eyes gleaming against the now-burning city as he engaged the spear-wielding mercenary again, spittle flying from his mouth. The scene was almost too beautiful, too raw in its sincerity, but the mood was quickly broken by the swordsman, who sprang out from behind with the obvious intent to deliver a final blow. “Tsk.” She leaned over to look into Mors’ eye. “Still hungry?” The wyvern shook his wings out, the movement rocking Branna but by no means unseating her. “Hm,” she hummed, the note cracking as she watched the ongoing battle. Then, hefting her spear, she patted the wyvern, grinning. “From above,” she croaked, and Mors’ wingbeats brought them up to diving position. Dead or alive, meat was meat, and the bulky chops of a well-toned fighter were probably the best cuts all day. Hence the dive.

_________________________ Status: Snagging a choice bite Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 15 Inventory: Iron Spear Vulnerary Stats END: D STR: C MAG: E DEX: D SPD: C DEF: E RES: E LCK: D

[Sho Minazuki]

BOSS BATTLE!

ENEMY!

• Bandit Leader (Alnard/Trace/Einar/Branna)
• Bandit (Einar/Trace +5 EXP)
• Bandit Archer (Einar +5 EXP)
• Bandit Archer (Branna/Thom +5 EXP)
• Bandit (Branna +5 EXP)

Participants, Results

Alnard
Branna @Typical - 40 EXP earned
Trace @Haeo - 35 EXP earned
Thom @Enalais - 5 EXP Earned
Einar @Savo 40 EXP earned

I'll just give the full amount to everyone who participated in the kill.

The bandit leader's screams were accompanied by the crackling of the fires around him. If Einar's sword didn't slash out a vital, then the pure brutality of Branna's spear would crush everything it drove through. As the bandit fell to his knees, any other bandits in the area would either be left without a leader and thus be met with a terrible fate, lest they were to evacuate, or those that would witness this scene would find it wise to run, regardless, the deed was done.

"Excellent work, now we must get going, before the Lyonesse army closes in on us".

BATTLE CONCLUDED!

---

The Fields

The Knights of Reynes marshalled before the Lyonesse army, their striking silver and blue armor set to oppose the verdant greens of the Lyonesse forces, darkened by night, with only the moonlight and fires raging in Garleton from the initial strike to light them up. The Brigadier General Everett had gone out to the middle to meet with the general who leads this Lyonesse force. His armor was scratched, yet well-polished, showing years of service and combat, the only things new that he wore, were his cape, and the clothes beneath the armor, seated upon a jet black steed. The Lyonesse general was immediately apparent, he wore a black, sleek armor with green underneath. He seemed to wield no weapon, with only a book strapped to his side. A Dark Knight.

"To think, I would be honored by the presence of one of the Four Lions, I had expected the Lion of the West, but I suppose the North will have to do. Alvarez, you would burn a city before giving it's citizens a chance to escape?", despite Everett's words, he did not show any fury. It was a jest, but more likely, seeing Alvarez, the move made a lot of sense to him. As far as combat experience with Lyonesse went, it was only in skirmishes in battles in the past. However in the case of Alvarez, he knew he would likely be getting his share of cunning tactics tonight.

"It was the surest way to get to the young lord housed within, unfortunately it seems our calculations were a bit off for the volley of magic. With such a meager force behind you sir Everett, I suppose you don't expect to walk away alive this evening", the voice of this general was confident, articulate. It was unusual as many of Lyonesse were carefree individuals who preferred wide open spaces. Alvarez, the General of the North, while he was in combat the weakest of the four, he had the most political sense. It was quite likely he was not here on orders at all, but to completely lock in Lyonesse's victory over the Empire.

"I only do my duty as my duty demands, surely however you do not think you can win with sheer numbers? One soldier of Reynes counts for ten of Lyonesse",

"Such confidence, but I suppose we shall learn this in the hours to come. My lord will not be satisfied until the whole of the Lothian legacy is erased, and I had come here following a little bird. I suppose a raven, would be more accurate. Regardless, I plan to make short work of you and your forces, and then, the young prince shall find himself in my clutches before he can make it to Reynes", he taunted. His smug expression hidden underneath his helmet. His confidence was something he was not at all afraid of showing here.

"I wonder how well that plan will go for you. But enough talk, it has been awhile since I tested my lance upon a battlefield. One of the famed Four Lions will be a perfect exercise", with that, the generals both returned to their armies, and with the sound of war horn the two armors would clash into each other.

---

Garleton Castle Courtyard

As Alnard arrived to the courtyard, there were already a great deal of people here. Furthermore something was different. The great statue of a dragon in the center had been pushed aside, and there was a route going underground. So this was the passage Gerrian spoke of. People were already filing into it. After awhile, Gerrian emerged.

"I am sorry milord, but Hadrick ordered we start evacuating sooner, furthermore I was one of the only ones who knew how to navigate these tunnels. It is good you are unhurt", Gerrian motioned to some soldiers to take his place in ushering people into the passageway.

"That is all well and good. I am just glad so many people have made it here. But let us be away. General Everett is buying us much needed time, every moment is precious", he ordered.

---

---

Prologue
End

---

---

[Sho Minazuki]

With the fall of Garleton, Alnard and those he could help evacuate, flee for the Reynes border, and take up temporary camp north of Gareth, towards the village of Galehaut. Within a week, news of the Empire’s capital of Edinburgh falling to Lyonesse sweeps the continent, however despite their victory, they show intent to also take Alnard, demanding that the Reynes forces hand him over, or suffer the same fate.

They refuse however, and instead Alnard decides that he should help bolster their defenses against the Lyonesse army. A fortress currently occupied by bandits resides in the northern mountainside, which should serve as a good stronghold to fortify the border. And so he would put whatever resources he had to achieve this goal. From hereon-out, Alnard's goal was clear. To reclaim his homeland.

---

Alnard Val Lothian
Base Camp south of Galehaut

The temporary base camp was... Serviceable. Everything was out in the open, somewhat exposed. However they were safely behind Reynes forces, so it was only to function as a base for their operation to take the fort east of them. It was tucked up in the mountains, and had a grand view. Currently home to bandits, it seems that it once was a Reynes fortress. What was it's name... Alymere? Apparently it was abandoned when times of peace came around, and such in-depth defenses were no longer needed. Only Gareth was necessary being the lynchpin of the Reynes border. For now, their goal lay to the east of them. Within the main tent was Alnard, Hadrick, and Gerrian, along with a few other soldiers standing guard. As they were finalizing the tasks that were needed to be done, based on information gathered by Gerrian, they were interrupted by someone at the tent entrance. Alnard signalled to let him in, and to his surprise, it was not a Reynes general. He recognized this garb, someone from one of the Lothian churches. He wore the red and white that was normal for Lothian cardinals, a relaxed yet stern expression, one eye hidden behind the black lense of his rectangular and sleek glasses, with a scar running down it. One can only assume he lost his eye and hides it as a result. He bowed courteously as he introduced himself, "My lord Alnard, I am Arcturus, the Cardinal of the Red Cup of the Lothian faith. I was among those rescued at Garleton. My presence was not to be known, but seeing as how the Empire has fallen as it has, I figure my original mission is no longer... Valid. If you require to know what that is, it was retrieval of an artifact, but I cannot divulge the details. For now, I am here to offer to you my services as a man of faith. If military matters require my attention, I am a skilled mage in all manner of magical arts milord", his voice was rather soothing, yet those who had a more hardened sense of people may be less inclined to feel comfortable around him. Gerrian in particular did not seem too approving of him. "I'm sure many of the soldiers would be relieved to have someone of the church here. We need all the help we can get, so I am glad we can add a Cardinal to our forces. I'll ask the men to prepare a tent for you to hold services", "That would be ideal milord. I must ask, I take it your wish is to retake the Empire's territories?", "Of course. But first we must aid those who have aided us", "Ah yes of course. The people have Reynes have always been a very open bunch, and a strong-hearted one. I see, very well. For now, if there is anything required of me, please, do not hesitate to call upon me", with that, the cardinal bowed out. After a few short moments, Hadrick voiced his concerns. "Milord, the Arcturus man... I have heard of him. Yet there is very little anyone knows of him. Is it wise to trust him?", he seemed to be trusting his gut on this. "There is little to worry in trusting him. He is still among his dubious deeds, known to be loyal to the Lothian Empire. However I do not like him. A familiar dishonesty rings in his voice to me", Gerrian seemed to be well-informed on the man. "Well, as I said earlier, we need all the help we can get... For now, let us focus on the task at hand. I think... The deadline was one week. That fort must be under our control in one week. Lyonesse forces are projected to be ready to attack the border in two, or three at most, but we cannot hope they will be the slowest among estimations. Well, we have our tasks, please, see to them", with that, the meeting was adjourned, and all returned to their posts.

_________________________ Status: Alive Class: Spell Lord Inventory: Rapier Vulnerary

[DELETED324324]

Thom Chaff Garleton: The Evacuation, Evening, The Camp- Morning

Thom knew he didn't need to help with the bandit chief, he knew the poor fool was a dead man the moment the wyvern took flight again. When the streets fell silent, he just shook his head. The bandits were gonna run for the hills, but so would they. As they followed the prince back toward the castle, he shot a silent glare to the two guardsmen who had accompanied him. He didn't know how they didn't aid the prince, but they didn't so he wouldn't be surprised if the three of them ended up with the headsman's ax. But that would be for later, he would just have to follow quietly behind the little lordling, hoping that things would slow down enough that they wouldn't run into combat. Then came the march, as they walked the tunnels underneath the keep. Their guide, who Thom could only guess was some sort of adviser, led them through the twists, and turns of the cavern. The fact that the tunnels looked all the same, only served to make the guardsman bored, so it calmed him down enough, and brought down his blood rush from earlier. He hoped the wyvern rider, knew where to go he didn't think the beast would fit in these tunnels. It'd be a stretch just to fit a horse down here. When they finally made their way from the dank tunnels, into the cool night air. Thom let out a sigh of relief. Not only because it felt nice to end up on the surface, but because there were no more battles to fight, as they slunk away into the night. The marching in the days to follow was what could only be described as hell. Slowed down by mercenaries who weren't used to the march, and civilians the group was all but a large moving target. Thom wasn't even sure how they escaped to their current camp without incident, but somehow they did. When the news reached them that the capital had fallen, he could only sigh. They were a resistance band as of now, and only time would tell what would happen. His last group turned on each other when they had the chance to become rebels, and he can only imagine what would happen with this group. How many would turn into little more than bandits, and how many would help the people. For awhie he briefly thought about deserting on his watch. But thought against it, some of the mercs had already fled into the night. Either off to join the enemy for coin, or because they knew a hopeless situation when they saw one. Not that it bothered Thom much, as far as he was concerned the lordling, and anyone with him were as much as dead, himself included. So he cared little into what would follow. The enemy would likely be hunting down heirs, and anyone who could challenge their right to rule. So they had a very large target painted on them. The princes speeches could only do so much to keep the groups spirits up, and he knew that eventually that they'd have to go on the offensive if they wanted to be taken seriously.

_________________________ Status: Upright Class: Guard Inventory: Vulnerary Iron Axe

[Lugubrious]

Artemisia & Trace Flashback

Time and Place: Bustling inn in the early afternoon, Edinbourgh

Even after sitting down, another hefty silence had settled on the taciturn pair, which continued to weigh upon Trace and Artemisia up until the point her food arrived. The meal was simple, an ear of corn plus a cut of pork, but it ignited a spark in those blue eyes of hers. “Oh, that is delectable,” she remarked after swallowing a big mouthful. “I can assure you, the sort of provisions you receive while in a clinic are best reserved for famine. One can scarcely call it food, though I imagine that’s to be expected. Our patrons were seldom the sort who could afford private care, after all, and ascetics like the Sister must not value food as anything but sustenance.” She cut off another slice of pork and devoured it, though she did take care in her earnestness to not make a spectacle of herself.

The silence had been long and heavy but such silence didn’t bother Trace as much as it might have a more talkative person.  The situation outside and the uncertainty of the situation here at this table both combined to keep his mind rather occupied.  He had eaten not too long before and didn’t have too much of an appetite at present. But, he still ordered bread with butter and cheese as well as a bowl of the anonymous stew on the fire.  It would all be good to eat after a while, even cold. Though, the stew might lose something of its savor. He would be able to simply pack away the bread and cheese for later if he had to.

When the food arrived, the mood at the table changed immediately as Artemisia began talking.  In fact, she talked quite a bit. Trace was beginning to wonder if she was forcing herself since such profuse discourse didn’t seem to fit her very well.  Still, he didn’t know her all that intimately in the first place. All he could do was reply. “The food here is good. It’s popular with the more successful mercenaries.  I’ve heard that some of the merchants and shop owners take their dinners here on occasion as well.”

Trace’s thoroughly uninteresting comments did not seem to provoke a response from Artemisia. Instead, she picked at the remained of her meat, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. “I wonder...what did this pig go through to come here? Could be as simple as sourcing it from a local farm. But it’s salted, so it was preserved and could have come a long way. Did the meat just get shipped off by a swineherd, or was it taken as a tax from some poor downtrodden peasant, perhaps, passed around and redistributed by some Lothian stooge? Maybe part of a shipment recovered -or stolen- from some convoy, or taken as loot from a distant conquest. Or was it wild, hunted in some daring chase by a desperate young hunter, or maybe by a tired old lord looking for a thrill, that he then charitably bequeathed to a local butcher? What made the tax collecter so hard-hearted as to be able to live with such actions? What grand adventures did that elderly noble see in his youth that make him yearn for action in his late years?”

Artemisia looked at Trace for the first time since she’d received her meal. Before now the young woman seemed withdraw, quiet, and even antisocial, but now…’passionate’ described her far better. “Might not seem like it, but there are stories everywhere. Interesting tales even in mundane objects. Where they were, whose they were, what happened to them. People, of course, can tell their own stories.” She let go her utensil and placed both elbows on the table, arms crossed. “It’s all so fascinating, you see. That’s why I hate surface-level small talk.”

Trace listened and watched.  For the first time since they had first exchanged words he seemed to focus on her exclusively.  His gaze became piercing and intelligent. And, he smiled. It was a small smile but a smile none-the-less.  He knew that he was being challenged to reveal more than he had been willing to share. So, the curiosity was mutual.

“There really are stories everywhere, even in small talk.  The merchants who own stores in town come here to eat because the food here is better than there is on their own tables during the lean months.  The owner here sources their foodstuffs from the most reliable sources in the empire. Some of the ingredients come from far away, others from next door.  While the quality isn’t the highest, the supply is always regular and that reliability is a great strength in this business.” Trace took a quiet breath while he continued to examine his dinner partner.  She wanted to know his story. He wanted to know hers. Perhaps a trade then.

“Like most who tell stories, I’m not sure if anyone would want to hear mine.  But, I became a mercenary when I was 12. I joined a group called the Pierced Shield.  They were mostly swordsmen and took a lot of small local jobs around Edinburgh. But, my first job was getting strong enough to fight.  My… limited magic wasn’t something worth their attention. I trained with the spear, hard. I had only one teacher, he was one of the most veteran members of the company.  He was also the only one who knew the lance. He kept me from going on jobs until I was 21.” Trace’s gaze hardened a little before he continued.

“My first job was the last job that the Pierced Shield ever took.  I survived, along with a few other rookies who managed to get away.  Everyone else died.” He took another long breath. “A lot of stories ended that night.  But, like always, others started at the same time.”

This was his initial answer to her challenge, her open desire to get more information out of him.  From here, he simply had to decide whether or not her interest was sufficient to justify telling her the details of that job… and how it went wrong.  He took a bite of his stew but kept his eyes on Artemisia. The stew was good, far better than the typical travel rations he carried.

The mage nodded. “Not bad.” A beat passed before her eyebrows went up. “That is to say, you are not a terrible storyteller. Naturally, I’m sorry to hear that happened. Of course, if that memory is too tragic for you I shall not ask you to elaborate, but I would be interested in the details of that night. I do not have much experience with battle or the mercenary lifestyle, so I cannot imagine what terrible fate must have befallen your company.” She picked up and resumed nibbling at her corn.

Trace’s smile, which had faded away as he spoke, returned.  He had indeed been right. But, she hadn’t decided to trade stories.  At least she was interested. And, there really wasn’t much reason to not tell the story at this point.  So, he swallowed the stew in his mouth and continued.

“That job was one that the whole company was hired for.  Most jobs, dealing with bandits, guard jobs, or bounties only need a few people.  But, Pierced Shield wasn’t a big company so most of the veteran members had to go on every job.  This one was an escort job. We were hired to protect the young son of a low rank noble on his way to some reclusive magic school in the north.  The company stayed in formation with the best of us around the carriage and the other accomplished members in the vanguard. The rookies and less capable members were kept in the rear.  The trip was pretty uneventful for the first day. With dusk coming on, the leader wanted us to make camp for the night and proceed in the morning.” Here, Trace paused and took a bite while he organized his memories.  There was something that was bothering him about what he remembered.

“The young noble got out of the carriage for the first time and insisted that we continue on through the night.  He said that he had to get there without delay. The leader gave in. But, it was odd. That kid was wearing a full cloak in early summer… and his hood was up, hiding his face.  To this day I’ve never seen a noble hide themself like that.” He took another breath. “We proceeded on into the night. It was cloudy and fog began to rise around midnight, just as we were entering a forest.  The ambush was fast… strong. They weren’t bandits. They moved fast and quiet from both flanks. No war cries or shouted orders and their armor was covered in black paint to keep it from shining. Most of them used spears or swords, the rest had bows.  They were armed with just the right weapons to counter us and they knew exactly what they were doing. They began with a volley of flaming arrows that almost all hit the carriage. It was a mass of flames in moments. The little noble managed to get out of the carriage but the enemy had charged in immediately.  He didn’t make it past their lances. Neither did the guards around the carriage.” Trace’s expression was flat but his eyes were grim as he seemed to sink into that scene from the past. Reexamining these memories gave him a bad feeling, like maybe it wasn’t over with that. Assassins don’t like living witnesses. “The elites from the Pierced Shield were attacked by the enemy’s best before they could move to protect the carriage but they only sent a few common lancers to attack the rookies at the rear.  They knew our formation ahead of time. But, they underestimated me. I hadn’t shown anyone my skill before. I wasn’t even sure how good I was then. I remember thinking that it was strange… how slow they moved. I told the other rookies to run, they wouldn’t have been any help anyway. They all used swords and moved slower than the enemy lancers did. They ran quickly enough though...” Trace fell silent for several long moments. It was hard to remember that night, painful, troubling. “I killed the few lancers that they sent and then I fled.  None of the others made it out.” He took a deep breath, pulling himself out of those memories with some effort.

“Reputation is everything for a mercenary.  Without it you can’t make enough coin to feed yourself.  For a soldier, running away when the battle is lost is cowardly.  For a mercenary, it’s how you survive having foolish employers. The Pierced Shield no longer exists and I kept quiet to avoid any lingering trouble.  I’ve survived with small solo jobs since then. This is my first big contract on my own. I was lucky to get it without connections or much of a reputation.  I hope the Prince isn’t as foolish as he is noble… or we’ll all end up dead, not just the mercenaries.”

With that, Trace fell silent and resumed eating.  His stew wasn’t quite as good since it had begun to cool.  Still, it was better to eat it now and wrap up the bread before it hardened, so he did while keeping his ears open.  Surely this mage would have something to say, whether for good or ill.

Artemisia absorbed all Trace had to say in steady silence, moving only to take a drink from her water once in a while. His recollection of that night painted a vivid, even terrifying picture. To come under attack from an unknown, silent foe, vastly more powerful and lethally informed, to understand there was no hope of victory, and to flee while one’s allies were slaughtered by the darkness--it was an almost poetic tragedy. 

She did wonder about some of the details the lancer provided, though. North of here, already a northern part of the continent, meant that this couldn’t have happened too far from Cherno Bog. Could her kinsfolk have had any part in that event…? Maybe. Most operations were kept on a need-to-know basis, so she knew nothing about any such activities. It struck her as stupid for anyone from the Coven to conducting such a large-scale assassination so close to home, but its operatives worked in mysterious ways. If it was the Coven’s work, they must have had a good reason. Making a mental note to ask next time she went home, Artemisia hurried to fill the silence that followed Trace’s story.

“How horrible. My heart goes out to you. I can only pray that His Majesty favors you in the future.” Looking down, she speared the last bit of pork and finished it off. She’d hoped -as mentioned earlier when she suggested that he get lunch with her- that he’d be able to inform her about recent events, but now the results of her inquiry left a dark cloud over the lunch table. In this atmosphere, pressing him for more felt inappropriate.

Trace finished his stew and packed his bread and cheese away as he processed Artemisia’s response.  Sympathy… she was working in a clinic so being able to express sympathy was not unbelievable… but… it was strange.  It felt like she was using it to cover her real thoughts. It didn’t feel like lying though, more like she was using a lesser truth to hide a greater one.  Trace had done the same in the past, when it seemed necessary. Well, he had been sharing in the hope of getting information in return. Even this little nibble on his hook was something to work with.  But, the time it took might prove more expensive than either of them could afford.

“I appreciate the sentiment.”  He said. Clearly, this matter brought him more worry than pain.

He raised his arm to touch the shoulder of a passing serving girl with a hand that held a coin.  “Excuse me. Have you heard anything about refugees or rumors from the regions affected by the war?”  He asked with a pleasant smile that never touched his eyes.

The serving girl seemed inclined to say something rude initially, until she spotted the glint of the coin.  Then she answered that shallow smile with one of her own and apologized for not having heard anything. According to her, the roads had been clear of refugees and there hadn’t been a peep out of anyone who came from that direction.  Pocketing the coin and waving prettily, she swished back into her regular work, occasionally evading the wandering hands of the more thirsty patrons.

Trace’s smile died instantly as soon as the serving girl turned away and his eyes swept across the windows to linger on the door.  “Silence from a battlefront? Only the dead are silent in war.” He muttered. “This city… it’s gonna burn.” He turned his gaze back to Artemisia and spoke more clearly.  “If you want to search for that person, I can take you around some places that aren’t usually open to passers by. This might be the last chance you get to look here.”

The mage gave a nod. “A fine notion. We will proceed shortly. And...I am grateful you told me all that.”

“Don’t mention it.”  Trace said as he stood and paid for the meals.  It was merely a polite phrase but it seemed to be meant seriously as well.  There could be real danger in sharing such stories too casually. Once Artemisia was ready, he led the way.  But, his eyes kept moving the whole time, searching for the threat that he knew was there.

[Yankee]

Belisendé
Mid-Morning | Temporary Camp | Reynes Kingdom

Thunk. The sound followed the swift whistle of wind as an arrow lodged itself into a crudely erected target. Thunk. Another arrow joined it, taking it's place around the hap-hazard ring of a bulls-eye. Thunk. The young pink-haired girl, Belisendé, kept her eyes trained on the misshapen hunk of wood despite the tremble in her hands. She had spent the last few hours nocking arrows, firing them and recollecting them over and over and over. Her shaking was not from fatigue, but from the events of the last few days and the news that followed with it. The sacking of Garleton... and the taking of Edinburgh - the capitol, her home... When she closed her eyes she could see the face of the man she'd killed in Garleton, the first life she'd ever taken and though she was a bit naive, she knew if she kept on the the Empire's - no, Alnard's forces, it would not be the last. It had made her physically sick many times over during the march to their current location. More than once she had run off, puked, and rejoined the tail end of the group. It still made her sick, though only sometimes. Other times she closed her eyes and pictured the faces of her parents as Edinburgh was overrun. This was the worst, and it'd kept her up worrying for them. In the waking hours she prayed very hard for their safety. Now, she'd been shooting arrows and quietly accepting her assignment to scout out the nearby fort in an effort to keep her mind off of the unpleasant things. She hadn't entirely been successful. Thwack. When the last arrow in her quiver hit the base of the target completely outside of the crudely drawn circle, Bel blinked her eyes and came out of a kind of stupor. She sighed and collected the arrows, replacing them in her quiver and decided to take a break. Yeah, a break would be good. She would get some water and maybe try and connect with a few other recruits. The majority of those gathered were much more experienced than her, civilians aside. She never did get the name of the knight she'd met that night either... Ugh, she thought briefly, shaking her head. She did want to thank him more properly, but dredging up a bad memory like that was what she'd spent most of the morning trying not to think of. Bel glanced over to her side where most of the horses were grazing, her own included. She felt better when he was in eyesight, loathe to keep him penned up after what happened last--- "Enough!" Bel shouted to herself, though she quickly snapped her mouth shut when curious eyes landed on her. She fought down an embarrassed blush and stalked into the heart of camp, looking for rations, water, and company before she had to go out and scout the stronghold once more.

_________________________ Status: Alive Currently: Training Class: Squire EXP: 35 Inventory: Iron Bow (3/3) Vulnerary (3/3) Stats END: E STR: E MAG: D DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: D LCK: C Supports N/A

[Lugubrious]

Artemisia

Temporary Camp Outskirts

Every breath was a labor, every step a struggle. One foot at a time, the haggard young woman trudged up the by-now familiar and welcome hill just outside camp, and with a final groan she let herself fall against the tree growing from its crown. Limp, she slid down its smooth surface and into a sitting position, where she lay like a puppet with its strings cut. Silence -save for her breathing- endured for a few moments before a rebellious spirit sparked within her. She mustered up her fury, her indignity, and let it loose. “Guh!” That march. That. March. Never had Artemisia walked so much, so hard, for so long in all her life. Sure, she was fleeing from an invading army that'd be more than happy to put her to the sword if they identified her as a threat, but was dying really that bad compared to all that exercise? The soreness had yet to leave her. And ever since deciding to stick with this army for the time being, putting on the guise as a mage hired for the army, they'd been working her to the bone. Training, chores, training, upkeep, meetings, and more training. Being off the battlefield seemed a fair sight tougher than being on one. At least then she could share her misery with a few poor suckers before biting it. Oh, well. At least they fed her without question, at let her be alone most of the time. Plus, she got some less-conspicuous clothes to wear—a baggy, long-hooded caster's robe in the Empire's colors. When night fell, and the drills ceased for the day, she could finally relax and start prodding people for stories. Already she'd filled a few pages with tantalizing summaries. If there was one thing war was good for, she learned, it was making history. Speaking of, it was about time she jot down a bit more of her own. After making another entry in her journal, Artemisia sighed and set it aside. She felt better already, satisfied even. As much as she hated to admit it, she wasn't in the best of shape, and those morning drills were making her stronger. Still, as long as she stuck with these Lothians, she grew no closer to her goal, unless by some miracle her target lay among the ranks of soldiers she failed to examine so far. And if he or she did turn up here, what exactly could Artemisia do? Kidnap someone from under an entire army's collective noses? Her best bet in such a case lay in the heat of some battle, during which enough distraction would exist to let her take someone unawares, but if forced to fight she would be obliged to reveal her identity as a Dark Mage. Another sigh escaped her. If only she could turn invisible. Or warp somewhere far away from here. As her thoughts slid to happier places, she started daydreaming of exploring with her father, and grew oblivious to the surrounding world.

__________________________ Status: Fatigued and distant Class: Occultist Inv: Vulnerary, Book of Secrets New entry Bone-tired and sore from drilling again. Yet, this situation should not last much longer. Now that the battalions have gathered and made preparations, I hear from my as-of-now compatriots that the commanders will be assigning teams of soldiers to missions in the near future. A little excitement and variety will go a long way toward making this unexpected sojourn bearable. No new individuals have piqued my interest, though I did happen to encounter that long-haired brawler who came to my defense again. Witty and refreshingly humble for a noble scion, if not overly gregarious, I must admit him not-unpleasant company. Yet, among the many faces to bob in and out of my vision on any given day, I can count none as those of friends. Yet my eyes scour them nonetheless, seeking the rosy hue of destiny.

[Savo]

Einar

Kingdom of Reynes || Outskirts of Galehaut || Morning

Shnk. Shnk. Shhhhnnnk. Einar whistled, the sound of his whetstone grinding against the edge of his blade, eyes locked on his handiwork as he continued this for a couple of minutes. Despite his fixation on his current task, he always kept a keen eye when he was scouring over the sizeable encampment they set up. He peered up for a second, briefly watching as three children hopped over the small, charred fire-pit he had put out before heading to sleep. He didn't bother to scold or reprimand them for playing around this place, but he looked at them with a puzzling curiosity, eyes drifting every couple of seconds whenever they shouted or giggled, resulting in him tearing his eyes away from his current task. Different. That was the word as he pondered on the conversation he had with Bel a week ago, about having a relatively dull and average life, "Obviously hiding something, although..." Einar's thoughts went back to an average life, something he always tended to ponder about after a long journey, the what ifs and what nots, before musing about his own past. He stopped sharpening his blade, instead leaning it against him as he stared glassy eyed into nil, through the children, through the horses, through the men who were chattering about the current predicament. "Can't help but wonder if I was a farmboy, or maybe something grandeur like a Prince from a foreign land! Heh, that would be a treat." He sniggered, snapping himself out of his reverie before going back to work, shnk. Shnk. Shhhhnnnk. As much as he wanted to drift in dreams, or at least seek a link to his bloodline, part of him did doubt he would find it here, but yet there was always a small chance. However, that would have to wait, as he was assigned some jobs, three in fact!... though the third was more of his own volition and curiosity. Einar stopped, tossing the stone back into his tent with the rest of his items before holding the sword up, carefully examining it for any signs of cracking, rusting, or dulling. His nose was but a mere centimeter away from the blade as he went from tip to hilt, like a fine connoisseur of weapons. Smiling widely he held the blade up high and gave it a brief twirl before holstering it with a deft SHNK on his scabbard and sighed with a confident smirk. "Time to get to wo-" His stomach growled, his abdomen mimicking a ravenous beast, causing those kids from before to shriek and run off into the encampment, getting lost in the forest of tents, horses, and people. "-rrsssome breakfast. Right, that," he winced blushing slightly as he cleared his throat and looked around, praying no one saw that before snapping his fingers and resumed his confidant bravado with a toothy grin and began walking. He passed on by different people, some bartering, others mingling, arguing, and interacting, though he didn't give them the time of day as he was busy organizing his own schedule, "I'm going with some people called Thom, William, couple others, the foreigner, and B-" Speaking of the devil herself, Einar broke off that thought the moment he caught a glimpse of a familiar pink hue amidst the clutter and rabble, moving swiftly as he held up a hand, waving at the little lady, "Greetings Bel, you're up quite early! That can only mean one thing," he boldly stated with a chipper voice, keeping that same affable appearance he had the first time he encountered her. In another time, in another place One week ago... Einar stood there, resting by the tavern door as he observed the flock of people, rubbing his chin and furrowing his brows as he examined those who stood out to him as if they were a farmers prized cattle. Of course, he did pick out a few outstanding individuals to him, wryly smiling at each of the prospects. After waiting there for a couple of seconds, he grunted and pushed himself off the side of the tavern, whistling as he flowed with the crowd. His eyes darted about, continuing to survey each and every member, whether they were departing or traveling from Garleton, with most being of the latter. For the most part, he kept to himself, displaying a happy-go-lucky facade as he walked with a beat in his step, though leaning away from people any time he suspected that he was being targeted by someone to pickpocket. The young man didn't bother shooting nasty glares or anything and kept to himself, always watching, even extending into when he entered the city, with the potential targets to swindle out of some gold through a stacked game increasing. As he entered, he struck up a conversation with what looked to be a couple of travelers, a couple of commoners from the looks of it with basic infantry weapon and barely a scrap of armor. While he chattered about, he kept his eyes drifting, resulting in a few interesting characters, such as a lovely lady with pink hair and an exotic dress. His gaze, caused the other two to divert their attention, before being transfixed on the girl, whispering to themselves about trifling matters. However, Einar on the other hand was profiling her, "Early twenties, looks like a foreigner, probably a noble or a performer of some sort, full of herself..." Her body language gave most of it away to him, but what was more fascinating was observing the other two accompanying her. The minstrel was definitely from around here, as his clothes were Lothian in design, but the darker-skinned male that he couldn't get a complete read on, outside of guessing he possibly hailed from Themyscira. Outside of that all was his posture, which told Einar everything he needed to know not only about his occupation, but the relation to the girl. "Damn, well there goes that idea." Einar would continue to scan over the masses, even after his "companions" left him to gather with the rest of the gathering mob of people, looking to watch this lass perform. "Interesting," he murmured to no one in particular. While he did watch the show, the main thing he noted was that, like her garments and physical features, the way she danced was completely different than dancers from Zion or Lyonesse. He would, at the very least, keep an eye on her and the much younger individual as well that was protecting her. The mercenary's eyes swayed to the beat as he began sifting through the crowds, picking more and more people out, though he did always notice a few stragglers as well, such as that lady on the sidelines dressed in a black garb and a large cone hat. While she did look quite pretty, he also brushed her off as a potential target, figuring that she would most likely see through his ruse quite quickly. "Hmm?" Out of the corner of his eye, Einar saw her, the perfect target. Her clothing, while modest was somewhat eloquent; a little bit beaten, but nevertheless had a lavish design to it all. Furthermore, the way she ambled around and her hold body language as she lead her steed made her look completely green to Einar! There was no way she had fought before, let alone travel anywhere, especially since she left her horse behind, causing the mercenary to make mental gymnastics figuring out her thought process for that sort of action. Clearing his throat and putting on a broad, affable smile that he was certain enough could warm the lass, he strolled through the crowd, keeping a keen eye on the shorter girl all while pretending to be curious in witnessing more and more of the foreigngirl's performance, moving through the crowd before crashing into the girl of the hour. "Bingo~." Grunting and feigning a wince, he took a small step back, bumping into another bystander before taking another step forward and looked at the pink haired girl. Brushing his chest off, he sighed for a second before looking at the pink-haired lass who recoiled and began rubbing her face, but not after apologizing. "Ah, sorry about that, I wasn't paying attention, aha," he chuckled, beaming brightly at the shorter lass as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and placed the other on his hip. Looking over the crowds at the other girl in the midst of it all, he looked back to the other who was still collecting her bearings. "Was jus' tryin' to get a better view of her dancing," he rolled his head and and jabbed a thumb at the dancer as he idly glanced in her direction, "her style is a lot different than the way Lyonesse and Zion dancers move, but it is nevertheless mesmerizing, wouldn't you agree?" Bel forced her eyes not to water from the impact as she looked up at the young man. Young, certainly, but not much older than herself she guessed. Thankfully, the man didn't seem upset by their collision. "No, no, it was my mistake. I was rushing, I should have watched where I was going," she said. She studied him more as he spoke, and when he mentioned the other countries she was assured that he was indeed a mercenary, and apparently well traveled. She smiled wearily at him, and nodded. After just a moment, she shook her head instead. "I was trying to get a look as well. Unfortunately I wasn't able to see her performance..." she sighed, crossing her arms in front of her. "I find dancers very inspiring and was hoping to watch, but..." she trailed off, her gaze sinking to the ground as she wondered: why was she even talking to his man? She should be getting back to Sunbeam now that she'd missed the performance. No, that would be rude of me. I did bump into him and... her eyes flitted back up to the smiling man. He seems nice enough. "You seem to know some about foreign dancers. Do you hail from the Empire?" she asked. She had already met one friendly and capable man on her travels, perhaps this apparent mercenary might share some insight with her as well? Einar looked over the girl, tilting his head as he raised an eyebrow, "Sorry, but I'm not from the Lothian Empire lass," despite the seemingly apologetic answer, he still remained upbeat before briskly raising the hand from his neck and shrugging nonchalantly. "Nor do I hail from any other nation, really," he threw his other hand up and lightly shook his head before wryly smirking, "unless you count the roads as one. After all, they are a part of a destination." "I'm Einar by the way," he chuckled at what he considered to be a terrible pun, still ever so smiling as he looked at the girl and extended a hand out to her. Bel stared at the man's smirking face for several moments. Did he just... did he just make a pun? If it weren't for his simple, informal way of speaking and the sword at his hip, she might have thought he was a traveling jester attempting to make a fool out of her. And did he really call her lass? Bel was still stricken by the pun to be properly annoyed by his words, and besides - she had shed her noble persona in pursuit of becoming a soldier. She shouldn't get herself worked up over things like this. "Oh, um, yes," she stammered, coming to her sense and giving the man - Einar, apparently - a small smile. She took his hand. "Nice to meet you, Einar. My name is Bel. I'm from the Empire myself, so forgive my presumptions." She discreetly gave Einar another once over, reappraising him. He seemed to be in a good mood, it was like a smile was ever present on his face. Although he seemed silly, his posture was impeccable. It was a form she'd seen on many an imperial guard even when they were on break. The make of someone skilled with the blade. "Pleasure t'meetcha and it's fine, no harm in asking questions, can’t learn anything if y’don’t," upon taking her hand, gave her a firm shake before letting go and placing his hand back on the side of his hip. He paused for a second, giving her one more look over, taking note of her weapon of choice before eyeing the slowly dispersing crowd. Some went back to their daily lives, mingling either about the dancer or other miscellaneous topics. Taking a quick glimpse to the side, looking at the direction of the stronghold before returning his open gaze to the little lady. ”Anyways, you mentioned that you’re from the Empire… which means you’re here t’join Alnard’s cause, aye?” Bel followed Einar's gaze back to the crowd, and the reminder that she had missed the dancer's performance dampened her mood yet again. There was a woman's shout from the general area the dancer was in, but nothing seemed dangerous. Soon enough the people had moved on. Her eyes lingered, unseeing, before Einar's question brought her attention back to him. "Prince Alnard," she corrected him. Although she would prefer people to use his full noble title, she doubted that Prince Alnard himself would like to be addressed as that. Still, Alnard was not only one of the Imperial Princes of this nation, but he was also her cousin in one way or another - she would see to it that he was respected. Her correction wasn't bitter though, if Einar was not from the Empire she could forgive a mistake like that once or twice. "Yes, I've come from the capitol to join up with his forces... I'm... a little inexperienced though," she said, which was a massive understatement. Just days into her trip she'd met that hunter and nearly shot him while practicing her aim while on horseback. "But! I'm devoted to the cause! I think any help they can get is good, right?" Her voice trailed off toward the end. She was indeed devoted to seeing peace come to the Lothian Empire, but she didn't want to get in the way. "They are accepting even unskilled men who wish to serve, so I thought I would... oh, well, the point is I'm here," she sighed and crossed her arms. "I take it you are a mercenary looking to be hired? You're awfully friendly, different from other mercenaries I've run into." Though it wasn't many, still two friendly folk seemed a low number. "Aye, though I've already signed on four or five days ago, heard the pay was pretty sustainable," Einar interlocked his two hands and stretched them high towards the sun, both beaming as blindingly as ever, "also, you've probably ran into merc's while they were on the job or somethin'; usually don't like bein' distracted when working." Letting both his hands fall back down to both of his sides with a silent plop. "Also, you shouldn't worry about your inexperience, everyone is wet behind the ears at some point in their life," he gave a hearty chuckle before snapping his fingers to the side and jabbing a thumb to his chest, "I might be a damn great swordsman, but I wouldn't be half the man I was today without my dad, so don't sweat it... at least for right now." After his words of encouragement, Einar pivoted around and gestured in the direction of the stronghold, "Anyways, how 'bout we walk, talk, and go getcha' signed up? After all, you're here to join his army after all, not jabber all day with yours truly," he pressed his other hand flat against his chest, as if to either emphasize his words or add a bit of dramatic flair to an action so mundane. Bel listened as Einar spoke, nodding along as he talked about mercenaries and his father. He seemed relaxed, and had certainly proved himself friendly, she had no inkling of any plan or scheme he may have had in mind before running into her. "Oh, yes, let's!" She replied with a smile. Einar's words had worked to cheer her back up. Feeling a little better now, she motioned with her hand for Einar to follow her as she walked back to the edge of the plaza. With the dancer's performance over and most people having moved on, it was a much easier walk. "Thank you, Einar. You've made me feel better about all this. I just have to collect my horse," she explained, and as they moved the large animal came into view soon enough. He was grazing on the plants near the plaza, chewing up someone's flower bed. Bel let out a short whistler to get the horse's attention and he lifted his head up to look at the pair. His coat was well maintained, smooth and dappled gray. His mane was similarly kempt, and flowed in waves. A pink ribbon was tied around the base of his tail. Despite his majestic appearance, the animal seemed to have a nasty look in it's eye as it stared down the unfamiliar person with Bel. "Are you close with your father?" She asked the mercenary. She had always liked hearing what commoner families were like. "My father eh," he uttered as he traversed through the plaza; he still had his smile, but instead of being a blindingly large one, it transitioned to a much smaller, softer smile as he recalled a few of the fond memories he had with the older man, remembering the smile that only a proud father could have. "Well, he's a pretty great man I must say, probably old enough to be your Grandfather at this ah-," just as he was pointing his finger at Bel, he caught the dappled horse out of the corner of his eye lunging forward, attempting to bite his finger. Einar, being a tad swifter, pulled his hand up, causing the horse to bite at nothing but thin air, eliciting a slight frown and one of his eyebrows to rise, "-ge. Kind, caring, though a bit strict, taciturn, and even somber at times. I can remember one of the times he indulged me in a play fight when I was pretty young... and he had a horse like yours, though more robust, experienced, and less prone to try and tear my finger off when pointing." He teased at the horse with a larger than life grin, only to swear that the animal was glaring daggers at him as he felt its hot snort on his face. "What about you Bel? What're your parents like?" Bel listened as Einar spoke about his father, taking note the change in his smile. His bright toothy grin from earlier had certainly made him look friendly, but the smaller warm smile he now wore seemed to fit him much better. It made him look handsome, even. The young noble had a mind to tell him he should tone down his flashy smiles in the future when Sunbeam lunged at him. "Sunbeam!" she gasped, pushing the horse's large face away from the mercenary. "Sorry, he's... he's a grumpy steed, but he usually doesn't bite," Bel said, stressing the last two words as she fixed the horse with a stern look. She would chastise him later. As strange as it may be to berate a horse out loud, she found talking to him to be comforting for her, even before she'd left home. "It was nice to hear about your father, he sounds like a good man," she told Einar once Sunbeam had huffed and backed off. It never even occurred to Bel that perhaps Sunbeam had sensed something in the man that made him react like that. "My parents are..." she hesitated, wondering what exactly she should say. They were wealthy, powerful nobles that enjoyed their position in life and had tried hard to keep their daughter safe and home to enjoy it with them. Yet here I am... she thought. "They are nice," she said, and didn't expand at all. She supposed it was true, as far as noble families went they were pretty nice. They didn't push her into anything she didn't want to do, though that may have just because she was their only daughter - not a son. "Normal parents." She finished. It wasn't that she didn't love her parents, but as long as she was keeping a lid on her identity she would prefer to not talk about them, and that was evident in her clipped words. She took Sunbeam's reins and gave Einar a quick smile. "Let's get over to the registry. Would you lead the way, if you don't mind?" Einar raised his eyebrow for a split second, giving Bel a quick sideways glance with his smile unnoticeably wavering for a second before his facial features returned to the same affable characteristics as before. "Must of been a relatively dull life before coming here, hunters or farmers I'm guessing," he mused out loud, feigning ignorance as he tapped at his chin before waving his hand, "ah never mind that, as you said, what matters is you're here now." With that said and done, they walked down the towns paths, Einar decided not to point his finger in Sunbeams direction again, instead snapping and pointing down the path before weaving and waving his arms, "the path up here turns and weaves a bit, but we should be able to make it to the keep in a few minutes to get you signed up." "Hm," after he finished describing it all, he dropped his arm back to his side and was a little silent in the meantime, looking at the chastised horse as it turned its head to look briefly at him again before looking back to its owner. "I'm guessing your experience lies in handling horses as opposed to bows?" Dull indeed, Bel thought as she followed the young mercenary. It had been a life of learning, that she had very much enjoyed, but there wasn't much more to it. Studies, games, idly chatter at a meal then bed. The times when she got outside to practice riding was always her favorite pastime. And to think it would come in handy in such a way... As the two moved through the streets, she kept a close eye on Sunbeam so that he wouldn't assault anyone else, and hopefully not Einar again. The horse was strong of will, but maybe Bel's nerves were getting to him as they got closer and closer to the recruitment area. It wasn't as crowded as the plaza, but there was still a great amount of people looking to enlist. This gave the young noble some mixed feelings. She was happy to see so many people - whether they be citizens or mercenaries - looking to help the Empire in this trying time... but with so many people, did they really need her? Ugh! Bel physically shook her head to clear her mind and realized Einar had stopped talking for a moment. She'd gotten kind of used to his voice pointing things out as they traveled the short distance. "I am good with a bow!" she said quickly, but she realized it sounded like empty words and she could feel her face heat up slightly. "Well, you're right in that I have more experience riding. Calming and caring for horses is just as important as learning to guide them while you're riding them, and I like to think I'm pretty good at it. However, I've also trained a lot in archery. I am confident in my ability to hit a target." She neglected to mention that she was much better at hitting a stationary target, as the art of bowmanship she'd learned was for recreation, but she decided Einar probably didn't need to know that. She really wanted to avoid embarrassing herself any further today. "Feel free to watch when I demonstrate to the recruiters!" she said, trying to muster as much confidence as possible and smiling at Einar. "But~ it's always nice to have options. Maybe you could give me some pointers about handling a sword?" "Hmhmm, I wouldn't mind teaching you a bit and giving you some pointers, as my skills are second to none after all," he asserted boastfully with a mischievous, toothy grin, chuckling as he gazed over the little lady, "but only if you can show me how good you are with your bow.” He winked, placing a hand on his hip as he playfully ribbed the greenhorn, before waving her off. "Go on, don't wanna keep em' waiting."

_________________________ Status: Pretty good shape Information Class Page Inventory Iron Sword [3/3] Vulnerary [3/3] Experience 55/55 Stats END: D STR: D MAG: C DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: E LCK: E Action N/A Supporting Bel (@Yankee)

[CriticalHit]

Kyran Cynmaer

---

Kingdom of Reynes, Temporary Lothian Encampment Outskirts

Tacatac, Tacatac, Taclop, Taclop, Caclop, Caclop. The swift pace of hooves upon soil gradually slowed as the young Reynes squire brought his obsidian coated steed to an eventual halt. Briefly, the rider surveyed the mildly forested clearing he'd came to a stop in, just far away enough from the main path that no wandering eyes nor ears would incidentally find him. It wouldn't do to be detected out here alone, and so far from the camp at that. Finding no signs of recent human presence, Kyran dismounted from Lei's back, and walked a few steps further into the clearing before finding himself a seat upon a recently fallen log. He'd gotten up earlier than normal today, though not entirely of his own volition and thought perhaps he would be able to clear his head if he were alone for a moment. So now in a nigh-silent clearing he sat, away from the noise of the camp and alone save for his own thoughts. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes momentarily the bitter truth he'd done his best not to dwell upon these past couple days came to his mind and lips simultaneously. "I have failed." He merely whispered the words yet still they struck him with the force of an army. As much as he wanted to disbelieve that words he himself had just spoken they were truthful, and brutally so. He was tasked with one simple thing on the night of Garleton's fall, Find Prince Alnard and get him to safety. Yet still on that night, he simply couldn't manage something so trivially simple. Thankfully a group of actually competent sellswords managed to pick up the slack he'd left behind, if the prince were to have fallen that night as well there was little chance Kyran would forgive himself for such a failing. All he managed to do that night was help guide what few straggling evacuees he could find to the castle's tunnels whilst his fellow countrymen stood, fought, bled, and ultimately died so that they could have a chance to escape. The squire looked to himself and the blade at his side, fat lot of good it did him that night. The archer woman had it all under control, even with him drawing even more attention to an already incredibly dicey situation. Between his failing to find and protect the prince, his pointless escalation of a dangerous potential hostage situation and finally the guilt he harbored as his countrymen and second family went to their deaths while he ran away, it was hard for Kyran to not feel ultimately useless. It wasn't like the situation was getting any better either, Edinburgh had fallen mere days after Garleton. As far as most were concerned, the Lothian empire was dead and gone, and now the bloodthirsty Lyonesse were looking for the prince's head as well. In truth, he didn't know how long their rag-tag group could keep Alnard away from his pursuers or how long they would even stay together for that matter! Their situation was bleak at best... though what else was there to do, but carry onwards and give all he could? Not only to prove himself as more than useless, not only to right the grave wrong committed by the Lyonesse. But to honor the sacrifice of many men Reynes and Lothian alike. "I'll make it all worth it.... I swear it." The squire said to himself, rising from his seat on the fallen tree and striding towards Lei, waiting at the grove's entrance. He'd been in this situation before oddly enough, feeling utterly useless while everything crumbled around him and so in that very moment, alone in a forest, Kyran resolved to do exactly what he did last time he felt this way. He'd work and work until his body could work no longer, and assist the prince in every way he could fathom. As he mounted his steed once more and began to head back in the direction of the camp his mind wandered to the extra duties he'd accepted. He had much to do, scouting a stronghold nearby as well as dealing with some particularly active bandits just to name a few.

_________________________ Status: Alive, Well, and Resolute Class: Squire Inventory: Iron Sword (3/3) Vulnerary Experience 40/40 Stats END: C STR: D MAG: E DEX: E SPD: D DEF: D RES: C LCK: E Action Returning to Camp

[Yankee]

Belisendé
Mid-Morning | Temporary Camp | Reynes Kingdom

The calling of her name was unexpected considering she hadn't spoken to... well, almost anyone since the march over. Still, Bel was well past startling (or at least, she hoped). She brought the water skin she was currently drinking from away from her lips and broke into a small smile when she realized it was Einar, the mercenary she'd met in Garleton, who was approaching. "Oh, Einar, hello," she said. She was pleased to see he looked fine. The sense of normalcy he seemed to bring along with him was as calming a balm on her nerves now as it was when they'd met last week. She had appreciated him then, and now just the chance to casually chat would be more than welcome. "And what would that be?" she asked. Lately her sleeping schedule was more messed up than even during the first days away from home, but she was getting used to it and the cycle of being awoken by a nightmare and choosing to wake up early to train was starting to become a completely new schedule on it's own. Bel's eyes caught the sight of movement in the near distance, a black steed making it's way back. Upon it... I-it's that knight! The one from the-- the one who helped me! She shouldn't be surprised to see him, after all she had no doubts that he would have made it out of the city. Still, it was another unexpected turn of events. It was strange, as if Einar had come to dispel her brooding thoughts, but the knight now was threatening to bring them back in full force. Come on Bel, you need to get over it eventually, she thought and with a quick glance back at Einar she pointed the knight out to him. "That kind knight approaching helped me in Garleton. I'd like to thank him again and properly introduce myself," she said. Her tone was inviting, and she actually nodded her head in the knight's direction as a silent wish for Einar to come along. With that, she made her way back through the camp and to the edge, waving the young knight over. "I'm not sure if you remember me, but you helped out during... w-well, we met in Garleton either way," she could have kicked herself for botching her introduction, but she rolled through it. "I've wanted to learn your name so I could thank you again. My name is Bel, and this is Einar."

_________________________ Status: Alive Currently: Relaxing a little Class: Squire EXP: 35 Inventory: Iron Bow (3/3) Vulnerary (3/3) Stats END: E STR: E MAG: D DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: D LCK: C Supports N/A With: Einar, Kyran @Savo@CriticalHit

[CriticalHit]

Kyran Cynmaer

---

Kingdom of Reynes, Temporary Lothian Encampment

With his convictions reborn and renewed, the rider and his Ebon horse darted back along the dusty path towards the Lothian camp. It was not long before the duo diverged from the well-worn trail and set out across emerald coloured plains and gently rolling hills. Just barely in eyesight a veritable sea of tents and soldiers going through their morning rounds stuck out against the mid-morning sun. To think, mere days ago these people all had their livelihoods ripped from them and their homes razed to ashes by a surprise attack, Kyran could hardly even fathom how they must feel. We've all lost a lot... but now we'll turn it around. We have to! The Reynes squire thought to himself as the remnant Lothian forces' camp grew nearer with each and every beat of his companion's hooves. As he drew closer to the camp, Kyran noticed a familiar looking vibrant pink haired girl who seemed to be beckoning him closer and alongside her a man he didn't recognize, likely one of the sellswords who had enlisted by the blade at his hip. That's the archer I met in Garleton! Good to see she made it out alright. A genuine smile dawned upon the squire's face as he gradually slowed Lei's pace to a stop nearby the pink haired girl before swiftly dismounting and approaching the pair on foot, reins in hand. A slight chuckle escaped his lips as the girl slightly stammered mid-introduction. "Oh I remember you alright, who could forget the face of a hero surrounded by flames?"he said, snickering somewhat before carrying on. "In all seriousness though, I'm glad to see that you made it out in one piece." The wry grin on his face evolved into a warm smile as he spoke, pausing as the pair shared their names with him, the girl was Bel, and the man, Einar. "Name's Kyran, I'm wi- or rather I was with the Knights of Reynes before Garleton... happened. Erm, nevermind that, great to meet you both." His expression shifted to a grimace briefly as he mentioned Garleton before snapping back into the same warm demeanor as before. "I can't take all the credit Bel, you did just as much as I did. Maybe I should be the one thanking you. Anyways, if I'm remembering this rightly, the three of us have a date with a certain stronghold later on today, right?"

_________________________ Status: Alive and Well Class: Squire Inventory: Iron Sword (3/3) Vulnerary Experience 40/40 Stats END: C STR: D MAG: E DEX: E SPD: D DEF: D RES: C LCK: E Action Making Introductions With: Bel, Einar @Yankee@Savo

[Savo]

Einar

Kingdom of Reynes || Outskirts of Galehaut || Morning

"It means you're up early of course~!" His toothy grin was larger than Bel's horse as he chuckled heartily as he winked, placing one hand on his hip while snapping and pointing at her with his other. With that all said and done, he dropped the arm like a sack of gold as it flopped to the side, Einar tilting his head as he sighed, "Glad to see you didn't get burnt to a crisp." His smile was a little more subdued as he looked down at the girl, observing and surveying her face. She was still easy to read, and to him, she was more worn than the rag of a maid; didn't help that he swore that there were bags starting to form under her eyes. "What is she troubled by," he mused before noticing her look pass him, prompting him to break his gaze and take a gander. At first, Einarwasn't exactly able to tell what she was staring at as slews of civilians an soldiers occupied his vision. It was only after he turned back when she saw her face slightly brighten and identified it for him and that's when he finally saw him - a young man, possibly a scout or a unit of the cavalry, was returning to camp on an ebony horse. He looked back to the girl who explained the situation before looking at him, non-verbally inviting him along with her. The mercenary merely responded with a nod and a smile, following behind the girl along as they weaved through civilians and soldiers alike. While keeping close to her, he squinted and frowned a tinge, pursing his lips as he analyzed the young man before blinking and shaking his head. Wasn't going to do much of that from afar. Eventually the two arrived upon the fringe of the camp, intercepting the young man as Bel greeted the man with a wave, whilst Einar replied with his own slight wave. Upon approach, he proceeded to lavish the girl with flattery before cutting to the chase. All in all, he kept silent, watching this little interaction transpire before she went onto introducing the two of them. Einar followed up with a nod, "Charmed I'm sure," before the other young man went into his own introductions. Kyran, huh? He was quite the chatty fellow as he went on to praising Bel before seguing into chatting about one of the dispatches. "Hm, a date? I knew my looks were that good but we hardly know each other," he lightly shrugged and chuckled, "though, I don't think three is a date, let alone seven." Einar pointed at Kyran, "You, Bel, a mage named William, Branna and her dragon of all things, some guy or gal named Trace, myself, and that beautiful exotic dancer we saw the other day, Sumire," he looked back over to Bel and waggled his finger, "I... think its the dancer. I mean, the name certainly sounds and looks as exotic as her."

_________________________ Status: Winning friends, influencing allies Information Class Page Inventory Iron Sword [3/3] Vulnerary [3/3] Experience 15/85 Stats END: D STR: D MAG: C DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: E LCK: E Action N/A Supporting Bel (@Yankee) Kyran (@CriticalHit)

[Sho Minazuki]

Alymere Fort - The Gate

Daybreak

They ride at the break of dawn. An early morning assault, a sound plan. The morning dew had barely become visible in the emerging sunlight as everyone arrived at the fortress. Alnard was pleasantly surprised that everyone put in so much work to make this operation a success, besides the planned operations and scouting, getting local knowledge and an unexpected boon in Blast Powder was more than pleasing.

In regards to those in his company, Kyran was assigned to stay with Alnard's forces. Since he was originally serving under Everett's command, he was suddenly without commander and it would be easiest for him to continue helping the young prince. Furthermore a local by the name of Wes had joined their party as a healer of sorts. Some among the soldiers were unsure of the origins, but the results spoke for themselves. They were glad yet more could attend to wounds.

The briefing was already done before they arrived, it was a straightforward task. Take the fort. They managed to get quite close to the fort before they were spotted by bandits on watch.

Alnard drew his sword, and with the swing of his blade pointing towards the fort, one word was all that was needed.

"Attack!"

Objectives

Hider

Victory Condition: Seize Throne

The Fort has begun to surge to life as bandits hear the call of their sentries. It'll be awhile for them to muster their defenses outside. The open and torn down gates make this more of an assault than a siege, and so the formalities are not required. Between the broken southern gate, and the crumbling wall in the north-western sector of the fort itself, there were various openings that can be exploited.

Enemies

Name: Bandit Leader*
Threat Level: B
EXP: 40(30)
Weapon: Axe

Name: Bandit Lancer (1)
Threat Level: D
EXP: 10(5)
Weapon: Lance

Name: Bandit Archer (4)
Threat Level: E
EXP: 5(5)
Weapon: Bow

Name: Brigand (10)
Threat Level: D
EXP: 10(5)
Weapon: Axe

Name: Sword Bandit (1)
Threat Level: D
EXP: 10(5)
Weapon: Sword

Name: Armored Bandit* (1)
Threat Level: C
EXP: 20(15)
Weapon: Lance, Heavy Armor

Name: Mercenary* (1)
Threat Level: C
EXP: 20(15)
Weapon: Sword

Name: Bandit Pugilist* (4)
Threat Level: D+
EXP: 15(10)
Weapon: Gauntlets