Correct, aside from the alumail uniform all Imperial Arbiters wear, their equipment is standard, albeit high-quality.
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Yeah, absolutely - I thought that was great! Love me some FFT chemists chucking potions at his party from a height!
I think a pyurgist could put flames out by absorbing the ferrum into their body, provided they quickly expended that energy again. They can't just keep caith inside or they'd quickly succumb to whatever particular sickness.
I think solurgy's pretty much limited to healing, so I don't know if you could create a barrier spell necessarily, but you could cast a spell like Regeneration, where the target heals as quickly as he or she gets burned? Wouldn't be fun for Grady but I was thinking of having him ask for such a buffer before charging the pyurgist. I think Rei and Elara taking the pyurgist down makes more sense though.
One main thing for all urgists to remember is that the caith has to come from somewhere. I think most urgists would carry a crystal on them that they could draw from - especially the more rare urgists like Vylmor. Crystals embedded in rings, necklaces, amulets, etc would be most common.
In a pinch if she didn't have any ferrum to use, Rei could at least start a fire to generate some ferrum and then use that to start more fires as the burning matter releases more free ferrum.
Elara can draw stannum from the wind like during a storm or while the airship is flying, but say in a closed room or a listless day there's not much she can do without using a crystal.
Vee's pretty fucked for casting unless he either carries crystals, aidkits, or aurum-rich herbs / vials with him.
Caith that is infused into an artifice like a firearm's ferrum core, a sky engine's stannum cell, aidkit's aurum serum or alumail's alumen weave - can be absorbed by an urgist but much less efficiently than from a pure crystal, and cannot be simply returned afterward.
@XSilentWingsX as far as religions go, I'd say that each race could have multiple different faiths or schisms, but as a general rule:
Humans have a classical pantheon of gods and goddesses (from which the wandering stars get their names), and sacrifices of food and wealth to the gods keep you in their favor, or at least beneath their notice. In the modern era humans are more likely to simply adhere to the traditional festivals while offer lip service, without necessarily holding true belief.
Elfes have a religion based on surviving Lexon texts and temples. Most people of Allevent don't know much about the elfes' beliefs except that there is the Lightbringer and the Nightbringer, and the Nightbringer is said to have been what destroyed the Lexon civilization tens of thousands of years ago. Elfes don't have a concept of heaven or hell per se - apparently living for the betterment of the race will see you rewarded in your life by the Lightbringer, and sinfulness will see you harmed or killed by the Nightbringer.
Deor traditionally have an animist religion - Allevent is a living world full of spirits, everything is alive and contributes to the greater All. Caith isn't worshipped exactly, but most deor people will personify the various caith elements moreso than other races, holding caith in reverence and trying to live in harmony with the natural cycles of Allevent.
The main gygr religion focuses on ancestor worship and a constant struggle with the natural world. Life on Allevent is a purgatory from which you can be released only if you have attained sufficient glory. Shaming your forefathers will see you live a long and meaningless life - bring your ancestors further glory and you will be rewarded with release from Allevent.
Bogles believe in only one god, which is neither benevolent nor malicious. Simply beyond mortal ken, their god is best described as Capriciousness. You cannot ward it off with good works or pious living, nor will you attract its unwanted attention by living sinfully. Utterly unpredictable, their god may kill anyone at any time, for any reason. Some bogles therefore have an extremely fatalistic, pessimistic attitude, but most simply go about their lives striving to succeed in whatever endeavors, knowing there is nothing to be done by hand-wringing.
I think solurgy's pretty much limited to healing, so I don't know if you could create a barrier spell necessarily, but you could cast a spell like Regeneration, where the target heals as quickly as he or she gets burned? Wouldn't be fun for Grady but I was thinking of having him ask for such a buffer before charging the pyurgist. I think Rei and Elara taking the pyurgist down makes more sense though.
One main thing for all urgists to remember is that the caith has to come from somewhere. I think most urgists would carry a crystal on them that they could draw from - especially the more rare urgists like Vylmor. Crystals embedded in rings, necklaces, amulets, etc would be most common.
In a pinch if she didn't have any ferrum to use, Rei could at least start a fire to generate some ferrum and then use that to start more fires as the burning matter releases more free ferrum.
Elara can draw stannum from the wind like during a storm or while the airship is flying, but say in a closed room or a listless day there's not much she can do without using a crystal.
Vee's pretty fucked for casting unless he either carries crystals, aidkits, or aurum-rich herbs / vials with him.
Caith that is infused into an artifice like a firearm's ferrum core, a sky engine's stannum cell, aidkit's aurum serum or alumail's alumen weave - can be absorbed by an urgist but much less efficiently than from a pure crystal, and cannot be simply returned afterward.
@XSilentWingsX as far as religions go, I'd say that each race could have multiple different faiths or schisms, but as a general rule:
Humans have a classical pantheon of gods and goddesses (from which the wandering stars get their names), and sacrifices of food and wealth to the gods keep you in their favor, or at least beneath their notice. In the modern era humans are more likely to simply adhere to the traditional festivals while offer lip service, without necessarily holding true belief.
Elfes have a religion based on surviving Lexon texts and temples. Most people of Allevent don't know much about the elfes' beliefs except that there is the Lightbringer and the Nightbringer, and the Nightbringer is said to have been what destroyed the Lexon civilization tens of thousands of years ago. Elfes don't have a concept of heaven or hell per se - apparently living for the betterment of the race will see you rewarded in your life by the Lightbringer, and sinfulness will see you harmed or killed by the Nightbringer.
Deor traditionally have an animist religion - Allevent is a living world full of spirits, everything is alive and contributes to the greater All. Caith isn't worshipped exactly, but most deor people will personify the various caith elements moreso than other races, holding caith in reverence and trying to live in harmony with the natural cycles of Allevent.
The main gygr religion focuses on ancestor worship and a constant struggle with the natural world. Life on Allevent is a purgatory from which you can be released only if you have attained sufficient glory. Shaming your forefathers will see you live a long and meaningless life - bring your ancestors further glory and you will be rewarded with release from Allevent.
Bogles believe in only one god, which is neither benevolent nor malicious. Simply beyond mortal ken, their god is best described as Capriciousness. You cannot ward it off with good works or pious living, nor will you attract its unwanted attention by living sinfully. Utterly unpredictable, their god may kill anyone at any time, for any reason. Some bogles therefore have an extremely fatalistic, pessimistic attitude, but most simply go about their lives striving to succeed in whatever endeavors, knowing there is nothing to be done by hand-wringing.
In the freighter's cargo bay, the infiltration team makes quick work of the unsuspecting sailors and engineers - cleverly disabling an alarm bell in the process so that their movements continue to go unnoticed as they make their way from the bay down a hallway. Guided by the Equine tribesman's model the team make their way through the belly of the Bdylegmia in search of the strongbox, the room where their prize awaits. Along the way the crew will encounter sailors running about the narrow hallways, most of them in various stages of preparation to join the topside melee - few of these men are ready to encounter Balder's crew as it delves deeper into the storage deck's labyrinthine passageways.
The infiltration team will eventually find itself before one last hallway leading to a closed door at the end of a barren room measuring 10x20 ft. Two men stand on either side of the door, and no sailors they be. Dressed in robes seemingly made of the finest silks though flickering with a faint amber hue, the more traveled of the party may recognize these men as Imperial Arbiters - the walking judges of the Tiberian Empire. East of Oceanica the militaristic Empire spans virtually the entirety of the continent, and its Arbiters travel from city to city dispensing their draconian justice with impunity.
Those white silk robes of theirs shimmer with a slight amber hue despite the hallway's scant lighting - you may recognize it as alumail, armor woven from the finest of metallic strands and infused with the earthen caith Alumen. These alumail battle robes are as light and flexible as a Faisseille whore, but stronger than Russka moonshine. Aside from this armor the men wear neither helms nor gloves, and their boots are plainly-made for travel.
Aside from their exquisite armor the men stand out from every sailor aboard - cleanshaven, sober and hard-eyed, these judges are as skilled as any warrior and are prepared to fight to defend this cargo. In the small room and with their backs to the locked door, they will work in tandem to not be surrounded or out-maneuvered. Each wields a gladius - a short sword designed for thrusting and cutting, perfect for close-quarters combat.
The infiltration team will eventually find itself before one last hallway leading to a closed door at the end of a barren room measuring 10x20 ft. Two men stand on either side of the door, and no sailors they be. Dressed in robes seemingly made of the finest silks though flickering with a faint amber hue, the more traveled of the party may recognize these men as Imperial Arbiters - the walking judges of the Tiberian Empire. East of Oceanica the militaristic Empire spans virtually the entirety of the continent, and its Arbiters travel from city to city dispensing their draconian justice with impunity.
Those white silk robes of theirs shimmer with a slight amber hue despite the hallway's scant lighting - you may recognize it as alumail, armor woven from the finest of metallic strands and infused with the earthen caith Alumen. These alumail battle robes are as light and flexible as a Faisseille whore, but stronger than Russka moonshine. Aside from this armor the men wear neither helms nor gloves, and their boots are plainly-made for travel.
Aside from their exquisite armor the men stand out from every sailor aboard - cleanshaven, sober and hard-eyed, these judges are as skilled as any warrior and are prepared to fight to defend this cargo. In the small room and with their backs to the locked door, they will work in tandem to not be surrounded or out-maneuvered. Each wields a gladius - a short sword designed for thrusting and cutting, perfect for close-quarters combat.
Wow, awesome posts from everyone this round! I don't know about you lot but I'm really digging this adventure even though it just started... just a lot of rollicking good fun so far! Unless you're Kimbull... :(
I would be okay with us all describing the things we encounter collectively instead of me dictating it. If it gets confusing, like one person describes a ship as being a rowboat and the other person says it can transport an army, then we'll have a problem and I'll do more delineating... otherwise feel free to use what others have said while adding your touches too. So far I picture it being a large freighter, longer and wider than the Aleph Null, with a single wide main deck with no quarter deck, forecastle, poop deck or whatever else up above. No sails or rigging as it would be too expensive to have in sufficient quantity to harvest anything meaningful for such tonnage. The deck is just a large open expanse that could potentially have various pallets, crates, barrels, etc strapped down. Below decks it has a small loading bay capable of carrying / deploying two smaller vessels. The sky 'engine' required to lift this thing must be gargantuan, and I imagine the hold has pipes, vents, cables, etc running all over. Somewhere in the hold is a strongbox room designed to hold the ship's more precious cargo - maybe with a crane / shaft that can bring it up to the main deck?
As far as the dangers of fires on a wooden ship, I think a pyurgist could control their flames as needed. Unless they go a bit caith-mad or get knocked unconscious while the flames are still roaring or something.
As far as the dangers of fires on a wooden ship, I think a pyurgist could control their flames as needed. Unless they go a bit caith-mad or get knocked unconscious while the flames are still roaring or something.
Guided by the Sailing Master's deft maneuvering, the Aleph Null descends from its hidden vantage point toward its target, like an eagle swooping in on an unsuspecting trout. Enveloped by the rays of the lowering sun behind her, the Aleph Null remains undetected until the final moments that it pulls alongside the heavy freighter Bdylegmia.
Balder Goldenwood, Marko Latvanen, Lasrach Flame-Forge and their small crew are able to leap from the Aleph Null while still inbound, sliding down the freighter's upraised debarkation ramp at the rear of its hold, landing in the small loading bay. Of the half dozen or so men milling about or working on the smaller vessels aboard, none seem capable or prepared to put up any defense, shocked into inaction. When advanced upon, some may join together to mount a defense, while others will attempt to flee either to safety or to raise the alarm.
A moment later the hull shudders with the impact of the two ships locking together, the Aleph Null's hooked boarding planks swinging down to lock with the rails of the freighter's exposed main deck, as the boarding party rushes forward, led by Alexander van Williams and Wilton Grady. Despite their ship's stealthy approach the boarding party is met with immediate resistance - the Bdylegmia's larger crew apparently keeping armed men topside, ready to engage.
Catching a downward-swinging cutlass with his twin trench knives, Grady booted the defender's knee before slugging the dropped sailor with a right hook with the knife's brass knuckle guard. A brittle crunch met his ears - the lad's jaw. He ducked and quickly swiveled his head left and right as he sought out his first mate, leading the men. As expected, once it cleared its way onto the main deck the boarding party was falling back on itself, pushed in by the defending sailors. Too well... he thought, realizing that the freighter held a stauncher crew than expected. "Push up!" Grady bellowed, before jumping back and sucking his gut in to dodge a sword stroke, barely avoiding being gutted like a fish. The next thrust he turned away with his right blade, spinning and slashing back with his left - his vision turning red with a spray of arterial blood from the man's ruined throat.
Slowly, with exhortations from van Williams and Grady, the boarding party pushed its way forward once more, pressing the defending crew back, bare feet and boots trampling over fallen bodies - any injured who could be helped back to the Aleph Null would be sent for the doctor, or at the very least dragged back to the boarding planks; some groaning, cursing or crying and some slumped in silence. Grady turned back to examine the fighting, using his right forearm to wipe the blood from his eyes only to see his gray trencher's coat was stained an even deeper shade. He saw a slash in the fabric and his tunic beneath but couldn't see the extent of the injury, nor remembered taking one. Still, in the heat of the battle he was more aware of the blood ringing in his ears and thundering in his veins than dripping from his finger tips, so he stuck his blades back in their straps before drawing his firearms.
Strutted in the middle of theBdylegmia's wide deck there was a ladder recess, an alcove from which more sailors were scrambling from belowdecks to join the fight. Best to bottleneck them there instead of giving them room to maneuver... Grady leveled his two pepperbox pistols, discharging the firearms with a rapid succession of ferrum bolts that crackled through the air with a flare of red and a hiss like barrel-quenched steel. Grady had received his fair share of ferrum bolts in the Sorrowars and in the skies of Oceanica - it was something between being stabbed with a small sharp knife, stung by a Bokmakiri firebat, branded with a poker and kicked by a mule, all rolled into one. Enough shots would kill you, but even the one shot he gave each man would be enough to put them on the deck for the rest of the fight...
Except for one man, wearing a tight jester's coat of motley garish colors, who kept walking forward after taking two bolts to the chest. Confused, Grady held down the triggers of both pistols, charging the rest of each ferrum core into single heavy shots that could punch holes through plate armor. He released both cores with a heavy kick of recoil and a flash like bottled thunder and lightning. When the motley man kept walking, unfazed, a slow realization of horror dawned on Grady.
"FIREATER!" he bellowed over the din of battle, holstering his guns and diving to one side as a swath of fire washed over where he'd just stood. The freighter had a fucking pyurgist aboard...
"Cover! Cover!" he shouted, but his shouts were met with screams from his crew as jets of fire began lashing over them. The men broke, scrambling in all directions to get away from those terrible flames. Grady watched as dumb, brave Kimbull charged the pyurgist with hawk-axe swinging above his head, only to be caught in a fire whirl as the urgist snapped his fingers. With the men scrambling in any which direction, the pyurgist turned his attention to the Aleph Null and its exposed ventus sails.
Balder Goldenwood, Marko Latvanen, Lasrach Flame-Forge and their small crew are able to leap from the Aleph Null while still inbound, sliding down the freighter's upraised debarkation ramp at the rear of its hold, landing in the small loading bay. Of the half dozen or so men milling about or working on the smaller vessels aboard, none seem capable or prepared to put up any defense, shocked into inaction. When advanced upon, some may join together to mount a defense, while others will attempt to flee either to safety or to raise the alarm.
A moment later the hull shudders with the impact of the two ships locking together, the Aleph Null's hooked boarding planks swinging down to lock with the rails of the freighter's exposed main deck, as the boarding party rushes forward, led by Alexander van Williams and Wilton Grady. Despite their ship's stealthy approach the boarding party is met with immediate resistance - the Bdylegmia's larger crew apparently keeping armed men topside, ready to engage.
------------------------------
Catching a downward-swinging cutlass with his twin trench knives, Grady booted the defender's knee before slugging the dropped sailor with a right hook with the knife's brass knuckle guard. A brittle crunch met his ears - the lad's jaw. He ducked and quickly swiveled his head left and right as he sought out his first mate, leading the men. As expected, once it cleared its way onto the main deck the boarding party was falling back on itself, pushed in by the defending sailors. Too well... he thought, realizing that the freighter held a stauncher crew than expected. "Push up!" Grady bellowed, before jumping back and sucking his gut in to dodge a sword stroke, barely avoiding being gutted like a fish. The next thrust he turned away with his right blade, spinning and slashing back with his left - his vision turning red with a spray of arterial blood from the man's ruined throat.
Slowly, with exhortations from van Williams and Grady, the boarding party pushed its way forward once more, pressing the defending crew back, bare feet and boots trampling over fallen bodies - any injured who could be helped back to the Aleph Null would be sent for the doctor, or at the very least dragged back to the boarding planks; some groaning, cursing or crying and some slumped in silence. Grady turned back to examine the fighting, using his right forearm to wipe the blood from his eyes only to see his gray trencher's coat was stained an even deeper shade. He saw a slash in the fabric and his tunic beneath but couldn't see the extent of the injury, nor remembered taking one. Still, in the heat of the battle he was more aware of the blood ringing in his ears and thundering in his veins than dripping from his finger tips, so he stuck his blades back in their straps before drawing his firearms.
Strutted in the middle of theBdylegmia's wide deck there was a ladder recess, an alcove from which more sailors were scrambling from belowdecks to join the fight. Best to bottleneck them there instead of giving them room to maneuver... Grady leveled his two pepperbox pistols, discharging the firearms with a rapid succession of ferrum bolts that crackled through the air with a flare of red and a hiss like barrel-quenched steel. Grady had received his fair share of ferrum bolts in the Sorrowars and in the skies of Oceanica - it was something between being stabbed with a small sharp knife, stung by a Bokmakiri firebat, branded with a poker and kicked by a mule, all rolled into one. Enough shots would kill you, but even the one shot he gave each man would be enough to put them on the deck for the rest of the fight...
Except for one man, wearing a tight jester's coat of motley garish colors, who kept walking forward after taking two bolts to the chest. Confused, Grady held down the triggers of both pistols, charging the rest of each ferrum core into single heavy shots that could punch holes through plate armor. He released both cores with a heavy kick of recoil and a flash like bottled thunder and lightning. When the motley man kept walking, unfazed, a slow realization of horror dawned on Grady.
"FIREATER!" he bellowed over the din of battle, holstering his guns and diving to one side as a swath of fire washed over where he'd just stood. The freighter had a fucking pyurgist aboard...
"Cover! Cover!" he shouted, but his shouts were met with screams from his crew as jets of fire began lashing over them. The men broke, scrambling in all directions to get away from those terrible flames. Grady watched as dumb, brave Kimbull charged the pyurgist with hawk-axe swinging above his head, only to be caught in a fire whirl as the urgist snapped his fingers. With the men scrambling in any which direction, the pyurgist turned his attention to the Aleph Null and its exposed ventus sails.
All yours, mate - let's get some blood flowing!
Great post btw XSilentWingsX!
Dondude (& everyone else), go ahead and post your CS and I'll edit mine away.
Great post btw XSilentWingsX!
Dondude (& everyone else), go ahead and post your CS and I'll edit mine away.
@Kimiyosis Youch! Hope you feel better soon!
@Shikaru @Nightwarden @Kierkegaard thanks for the interest! Feel free to come up with a character and run it by me either here or in PM before posting it in the character thread. Just take a look at our other current characters to get an idea of what types our party needs. Lemme know if you have any questions!
@Shikaru @Nightwarden @Kierkegaard thanks for the interest! Feel free to come up with a character and run it by me either here or in PM before posting it in the character thread. Just take a look at our other current characters to get an idea of what types our party needs. Lemme know if you have any questions!
"One of the deck hands," the captain grated as he turned to regard his first mate. "One of the deck hands," he repeated, "has noticed? No fucking shit Alex! You tell him we're riding high in the chop because we don't want to be seen until we locate our target!" he thundered, before turning to his sailing master. "Maintain present speed until we sight the vessel. Then, I want you to spool up the engines and drop in the chop until the engine's running cool. Then, circle it wide, girl, until we're behind it and half a league back, yah? After that," he continued, though he loathed giving out too many orders at once, since situations change almost as soon as the orders are out of your mouth. "I want you to raise us up so that we're in the that sonofabitch's sunspot," he said, referring to being directly in between the sun and the target vessel so as to be hidden during their approach. With the afternoon sun somewhat low in the western sky, and them being half-a-league behind the target, Grady fudged the numbers and guessed they'd need to raise between 200-300ft above the chop. He trusted Elara to run the geometry of it beforehand - hell, she could probably do it in her head.
As they accelerated toward the target she'd keep lowering the Aleph Null, the goal being to be hidden for as long as possible before coming alongside and grappling with the ship. Normally he wouldn't have been this worried about detection - once the vessel was spotted they could easily just race toward it and engage - except the doctor's informant had been clear that the target would sooner see the package destroyed than lost. Every second they could shave off of their detection before boarding, and every second the boarding party was able to buy Goldenwood's crew, would maybe be the deciding factor between pulling off this mission successfully or going home empty-handed. If that meant shunting the engine and running hot... well that's what he paid Kisaki to handle.
"I spoke to Balder," Grady said, turning away from the helm and heading toward his first mate, "His crew should be all ready soon. We need to be careful how we handle our end of the engagement. We need those bastards to think they're winning so they don't attempt to junk the prize, and that means keeping our party as small as possible. But we gotta keep them pressed so they don't break anyone away to secure the cargo. Once we engage I want us to slowly turtle up and get surrounded. Just be ready to punch a way through when Goldenwood and his boys return. Thoughts?"
As he spoke Grady had slowly made his way to the back hatch of the navigation room, which he swung open now before stepping out onto the balcony. Thin wisps of their reduced steam plume drifted to meet them but quickly dissipated in the wind. He could hear the steady drone of the sky engine, maintaining the stannum fields that manipulated the wind into keeping them aflight. The ship had five rectangular metal panels recessed slightly into the hull at the fore, aft, port, and starboard of the ship as well as directly beneath the keel, all of which maintain the stannum fields the sky engine generates and the navigator manipulates to change course.
With both hands on the rail Grady stood with his back leg cocked straight and his front leg slightly bent as he leaned his weight forward onto the rail and idly spat over the side as he listened to any of his first mate's thoughts. Then he turned back around as he fished a fat half-smoked cigar from his front pocket and went about relighting it.
"You want to lead the boarding party?" he asked idly as he puffed the cigar back into life. Heavily unctuous, oily flavors reached his senses - originally the cigar'd had some subtle spice and vanilla notes but apparently the last few days spent in his front pocket half smoked had leeched out its complexity and character, leaving just a cloying bitterness. There was probably a metaphor in there somewhere, or so he wondered. "I'm still going, of course, but it's about time you started taking over leading these boys. Just don't fucking coddle them - you'll get more men killed trying to protect them than by pushing them forward. Learned that in the trenches."
After a few more joyless moments puffing at the cigar he finally crushed it out against the railing and returned it to his front pocket. Maybe it would get better again.
As they accelerated toward the target she'd keep lowering the Aleph Null, the goal being to be hidden for as long as possible before coming alongside and grappling with the ship. Normally he wouldn't have been this worried about detection - once the vessel was spotted they could easily just race toward it and engage - except the doctor's informant had been clear that the target would sooner see the package destroyed than lost. Every second they could shave off of their detection before boarding, and every second the boarding party was able to buy Goldenwood's crew, would maybe be the deciding factor between pulling off this mission successfully or going home empty-handed. If that meant shunting the engine and running hot... well that's what he paid Kisaki to handle.
"I spoke to Balder," Grady said, turning away from the helm and heading toward his first mate, "His crew should be all ready soon. We need to be careful how we handle our end of the engagement. We need those bastards to think they're winning so they don't attempt to junk the prize, and that means keeping our party as small as possible. But we gotta keep them pressed so they don't break anyone away to secure the cargo. Once we engage I want us to slowly turtle up and get surrounded. Just be ready to punch a way through when Goldenwood and his boys return. Thoughts?"
As he spoke Grady had slowly made his way to the back hatch of the navigation room, which he swung open now before stepping out onto the balcony. Thin wisps of their reduced steam plume drifted to meet them but quickly dissipated in the wind. He could hear the steady drone of the sky engine, maintaining the stannum fields that manipulated the wind into keeping them aflight. The ship had five rectangular metal panels recessed slightly into the hull at the fore, aft, port, and starboard of the ship as well as directly beneath the keel, all of which maintain the stannum fields the sky engine generates and the navigator manipulates to change course.
With both hands on the rail Grady stood with his back leg cocked straight and his front leg slightly bent as he leaned his weight forward onto the rail and idly spat over the side as he listened to any of his first mate's thoughts. Then he turned back around as he fished a fat half-smoked cigar from his front pocket and went about relighting it.
"You want to lead the boarding party?" he asked idly as he puffed the cigar back into life. Heavily unctuous, oily flavors reached his senses - originally the cigar'd had some subtle spice and vanilla notes but apparently the last few days spent in his front pocket half smoked had leeched out its complexity and character, leaving just a cloying bitterness. There was probably a metaphor in there somewhere, or so he wondered. "I'm still going, of course, but it's about time you started taking over leading these boys. Just don't fucking coddle them - you'll get more men killed trying to protect them than by pushing them forward. Learned that in the trenches."
After a few more joyless moments puffing at the cigar he finally crushed it out against the railing and returned it to his front pocket. Maybe it would get better again.
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