Shu — Roleplayer Guild

A C T  T W O

NIGHTAL 3, 1372 DR
MAIN ENCAMPMENT
WEST OF SCARDALE TOWN

The morning sun peeked over the towering oaks that enshrouded the encampment. Bright, orange rays bathed the grove and was a welcome feeling against the skin of the occupants of the camp. The snowfall from the day before and lasted through the night, finally stopping just before sunrise. Off-duty men grumbled under their breath as they shoveled fresh white layers from the walkways between tents and away from the supplies and armaments. Iliskra had awoke early, dressing herself and then leaving her tent to go find a morning meal. While she had slept in worse places before than a crowded winter encampment Iliskra admitted to herself that the cold was quite “biting”. This winter was going to be a rough one indeed. 

The quartermaster served a modest oyster stew and a mug of warm ale to go with it. Iliskra and several others ate their meals alone in their tents away from any curious eyes. Some of the younger mercenaries had helped themselves to sitting with the more welcoming of Breck’s troupe making ideal conversation while others of Breck’s company glowered over their bowls at the newcomers. Iliskra had just downed the last drop of her ale when one of Breck’s men appeared in front of her tent, his aged face grim as he told her that Breck wanted to see all the hirelings in the center of camp for their first assignments. Iliskra did as requested, following in last behind the handful of others that had secluded themselves to the mercenary quarter of the camp. As she walked Iliskra looked the encampment over more critically, something easier done in the daytime. While she could not count the number of tents present Iliskra estimated there to be between thirty and forty men and women here, excluding herself and all the other new arrivals. She noticed the small number of horses - ten exactly - tied shoulder-to-shoulder under a small shed along the eastern palisade. Iliskra assumed the horses were reserved for scouts and for when dire situations arose. There were a few servants present, Iliskra had counted what looked to be four so far - mostly helping the quartermaster with cooking and keeping the supply shed orderly.

Who is keeping up that illusion? Iliskra wondered as she and the others neared the center of camp, Breck does not seem like a wizard of the capability to perform such a feat and all I have seen so far has been his men-at-arms… And that was it. All Iliskra had seen so far was Breck and his swordarms. Somewhere in this camp there was a wizard maintaining the illusion seen yesterday to keep away intruders. And if this wizard was worth their salt at all Iliskra imagined the surrounding woods - the actual forest - had magical traps to deal with any potential interlopers as well. And if there were no magical traps Iliskra was certain then these light-footed ranger-scouts of Breck’s had laid traps of a more material design throughout the woodland around them.

As she reached the center of the camp with the others Iliskra’s question was answered straightaway. Sitting in the exact center of the circle of now extinguished torches was a long table that resembled a common dining table. At closer glance Iliskra was quite sure that was what it was. Laying in the center of the table was a square, white piece of parchment - a map. All of the hirelings were on one side of the table, their backs facing the south as they stood crowded - elbows and shoulders uncomfortably jammed together as they looked down at the map. On the opposite side stood Breck, propping on the table with both palms pressed into the wood. Two of his hooded scouts lingered at his back. And then to Breck’s left was a new face.

There stood a man of average height and frame. His face was weathered with age and adorned with a bushy brown beard. His hair was unkempt and shaggy. His eyes despite a somewhat weary look sparkled with whimsy and intellect. He wore a red cape that hung short past his shoulders, a heavy forest green robe covered all but his hands. In his right hand he gripped a polished wooden staff topped with a finely cut clear gemstone that resembled a spear tip. So this is our wizard. Iliskra thought as she squeezed into the crowd of people gathered around the table.

“Allow me to introduce you all to Leifar Wingur. A wizard from the Chandlerscross tower,” Breck said rather suddenly, “he is here as our arcane expert as well as putting his illusion mastery to work helping our efforts.”
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