Open Chronicles Rolling Plains[Bandit Hunt]

[Thren]

Allir Reaches - Northern Plains

Around him was a clatter of swords, armor, and horses as various sell-swords gathered their equipment and prepared to mount up. Most of them Thren didn't know, and in truth didn't want to know.

They were all here for the same reason really; money.

It appeared that as times grew more tumultuous a segment of society sought to take advantage. A group of bandits had joined together into a single group and occupied a small fortress within the Northern Plains of the Allir Reaches. By all accounts there was nearly a hundred of them, lead by the former head of the Merchant Council Guard back in Alliria.

Supposedly they were well armed, and their defenses well cared for. The Fortress the bandits had settled was abandoned until they came along, it's walls old but still strong enough to stand.

Thren had never seen the place, but that didn't matter. From the description he'd been given it was fierce enough, with walls, a keep, and a rather large set of doors. He wasn't quite sure how they were going to get inside, but he figured that was a problem that would be solved once they actually got there.

Of course, the fact that the Merchant Council had decided to hire mercenaries instead of sending their Guard spoke volumes, though he wasn't entirely sure if anyone else within this little gathering army realized that.

The task ahead of them was dangerous, more so than many would have guessed. They were few in number, and even a well trained force would have struggled to assault a Fortress like the one they were headed to. It made one wonder if the Merchant Council thought they would even succeed.

Thren frowned slightly, rolling his shoulders. "At least the moneys good."

The Barbarian grumbled to himself, sitting on a small rock as he watched the rest of the mercenaries gather within the small field.

They would leave soon.

 

[Alona Hawse]

Alona rode up to the camp that had been set up for the campaign against the bandits, her mare whinnied to the other horses being tended on a line at the edge of the camp. A pair of mercenary guards stepped between her and the interior of camp, holding halberds that long have been used as a symbol of guards.

"'Ats a nice 'orse d'ere. Stait'cher bizness." The one on the left drawled, leaning on his halberd in an unconcerned way.

"I am Alona Hawse, I've come to sign onto this campaign." She slowly reached behind her, into the saddlebag, and pulled out a small clamshell of metal, and opened it for the guards to see. Inside was a hardened wax seal with the symbol of the Blade Society of Alliria, marking her as a member in good standing of that mercenary organization.

"Looks clean, sign'up o'er d'ere." The drawling guard pointed to a tent that was slightly larger than the others, and then stepped out of Alona's way. She slipped from the saddle as she entered the camp, and led the mare to the command tent. She left the reins loosely tied around a hitching rail that had been pounded into the ground outside. She knew her horse wouldn't move for anyone else willingly. After a few minutes of discussion, Alona returned from the command tent as an official member of this company for the remainder of the campaign. She led her horse to the picket line with the other horses, and pulled down her saddlebag. She removed the saddle and gave her mare a quick rub down, and set her up with oats and water before moving off with her things to find a tent to move into.

Thren​

 

[Esme]

Esmeralda sat on a barrel above the other bustling recruits, silent as she watched them prepare for departure. She still wasn't entirely sure if this was the job she wanted to sign into, but she had lost the luxury of being picky. It was this, or resorting back to hunting in woods.

Well, she could always ditch if things went sour. Yeah, she convinced herself. No harm in trying.

She hopped off the barrel, her pack clicking as she restrung it over her shoulder. She made a slight point of tending to the half sword strung up on her hip, making sure those around her had the sense that it was there. Old habits died hard, but she was small and she had gotten her fair share of shit for it.

Once settled, she clipped her cloak over her pack and moved to brush the hood off her hea- She stopped short, blinking once as what was clearly a recruit, another female to boot, walked right on past them and towards the tents.

"...You know we're leaving soon?" She tossed out, half baffled at herself for bothering to offer the help.

 

[Acillio Nazzaro]

Acillio Nazzaro leaned against a tree, taking his time as he chewed away at a red apple. A pavilion that was being taken down was behind him in a chequer of black and gold. Mercenaries mulled about sharing conversation about their homeland of Elbion. A few had served in the Elbion Merchant Guard and enjoyed the irony of the situation. It was a challenge to test their mettle against their counterparts.

One of the men sat on a stump with a tin bucket in front of him. The bucket was filled with peeled potatoes and around the mans feet were unpeeled potatoes. In his hand he held one and in the other was a knife. He looked up and spotted Alona. The man was among the few who like Acillio had formerly served in Elbion. "Look here, Acillio," the man said.

The swordsman stepped over and clapped a hand on the mans shoulder, "Not the first time I've crossed paths with her." Acillio moved his grip rested a hand on his sheathed blade and remarked, "She reeks of holier-than-thou." Then Acillio turned as someone spoke up to the woman, and he interjected, "She's got a horse and not everyone here does - I don't think she's concerned about playing catch up."

Acillio and the company he was in were among those who did not have mounts. They would walk. They may have some decent gear between them but they weren't necessarily rich. They certainly couldnt afford a horse. Close inspection would show that most armoured men among them wore family heirlooms, old plate likely to crack under an arrows pierce, or swords and leather jerkins that they hung onto after leaving a towns watch position, such as Acillio's garb; that of the Merchant Guard of Elbion.

The only posession of note among them was a beaten wagon that had seen its fair share of the world. A malnourished ox was tethered to the wagon. The pavilion and provisions would be stacked on the wagon and brought with them. Once they reached a point of no return they would set up camp and leave two of their own to remain behind to protect their belongings. Often this prestigious role was determined by a copper coin toss and a process of elimination.

"You can camp with us," Acillio offered to Alona, hiking a thumb. The potato peeler frowned and looked up, as if to protest or argue but said nothing. The crowd with Acillio were good earnest men but they were unclean and smelt of weeks of travel. Hard to fine time to bathe and clean ones clothes when they were constantly on the move. Often they bathed once a month in the winter and once a week throughout the other seasons .

 

[Thren]

Thren glanced up at Esmeralda, his gaze focusing for a second. "Yeah, but lets be honest."

He slowly gazed around the rest of the camp. There was no doubt that some proper soldiers had made their way to the little army, even some mages, but he doubted that the task would be complete without losses.

Thren was no strangers to suffering through a siege, and taking a Fortress was more difficult than most people would have guessed. These bandits were no fools. They had taken a position of strength and made sure that they wouldn't be easy to assault. The Keep itself would be hard enough without siege equipment.

"I don't have the highest hopes." The Mercenary commented dryly as he looked around.

Just as he looked around a horn sounded at the edge of the camp, a clear mustering call that seemed to echo through the place.

"Thren." He offered his hand to the woman, not bothering to budge from his place on the small rock. "Entirely regretting taking this job."

The hound that was seated next to the man let out a happy bark.

Acillio Nazzaro | Alona Hawse

 

[Alona Hawse]

"...You know we're leaving soon?"

Alona paused in her stride and turned to the speaker, a smile on her face.

"Aye, I was told that when I signed on." She replied, nodding over towards the command tent. "Figured an hour or so of shut eye might be worth it. Never know when you'll get another chance."

It was then that Acillio Nazzaro spoke up, and pulled her attention a bit away from Esmeralda. She noticed Thren sitting nearby as well, seemingly aloof from the rest of the groupings of mercenaries.

"You can camp with us,"

"Acillio, I figured we'd cross paths here." She said, her face was still pleasant, but she knew she wasn't the most popular with those who left the Merchant Guard of Elbion under less auspicious terms than she. "Thank you for the offer, I accept." She looked around, obviously grouping Esmeralda in with this group, now that she was speaking with them all together. "I have a horse, we can switch off on it to aid the company do out-riding and scouting. I don't see much tack among your group, so I take it we'll be walking. Saves the horse more." She nodded, making the decision fairly easily. She was never one to hold her higher station over her men when she was in the Guard, and she wouldn't do it to companions out here either.

She moved to the wagon, and placed her gear on the back of it, making sure her armor, helm, and weapons were all in place.

Then she heard the mustering call.

"There goes my idea of sleep. Looks like the muster is on, gents." She grinned, feeling far more comfortable with the thought of moving and coming to cross blades than with socializing with anyone at the moment.

 

[Esme]

Yeeeeeah. Esmeralda was becoming less and less thrilled to have taken this job, and it didn't help to have others express doubt as well. She surveyed the small group, her green eyes sharp and wary as she remained standing off to the side. The mustering call played in the distance. She crossed her arms over her chest, snorted, and started marching towards the horn's intended direction.

She shared Alona's sentiment, leaving the talking, and the group of well-armed soldiers, behind. And boy could she walk fast.

The dinner better be more than bread and cheese.

 

[Daemon Vorell]

Perhaps much more solemn than most, and content to be so, Daemon Vorell kicked the toe of his boot into the stump of an old oak tree. He too had kept his distance with the other mercenaries, knowing well enough the risk that came with getting too close with those you would likely never meet again.

Would it be a stray arrow loosed in fear, no direction intended? Would someone simply trip into the wrong blade? Arethil could only have so many heroes. Surely there would be no space to spare for a ragtag group of killers spilling blood in the name of coin. At least, that is what Daemon believed.

When it was time to muster, he gave the stump before him one final kick and bent down to retrieve his gear. The man preferred versatility, only ever bothering to carry a plate cuirass and pauldrons. Occasionally he'd add a few extra plates or even chainmail should he see it fit. He wouldn't possess the need to clank around in full plate if he never intended to get hit in the first place, right?

His weapons had been nothing spectacular; a well-worn bastard sword and crossbow. The crossbow had been crafted in Elbion, that much was clear given the tarnished symbol of a Dwarven craftsmen on the underside of its grip. As for the sword, it was forged by a noble house in Vel Anir. The steel had not see a polish in years, seeming to have blackened with time. Daemon did maintain what he valued in it however; a sharpened edge and a regular removal of blood or other imperfections.

And so it was with nothing more than a grunt that he secured the weapons to his belt and sling, tossing them over his shoulder and heading off. Both tools would offer a soft clatter as they wrapped against his armor. Hopefully he might be able to learn a few names before the bloodletting.

 

[Thren]

Daemon Vorell | Esmeralda | Alona Hawse | Acillio Nazzaro

Thren had not brought a horse, but it seemed that quite a few of the other mercenaries hadn't either. He wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that, though he supposed the fewer mounts there were the fewer arguments there would be how important the cavalry was.

Every time he'd been part of a larger army someone had argued about how the Cavalry should get all the glory, that infantry simply wasn't as good.

It probably had something to do with the fact that cavalrymen were almost always nobles, and nobles tended to have egos the size of a horses co-well...he didn't have to continue that thought. With a small grin to himself The Barbarian wandered towards the mustering point, gathering in front of a large boulder where an Allirian Merchant Guardsmen stood.

The golden Knots on his shoulder marked him as an officer, and Thren listened carefully as he spoke.

"I won't waste your time with speeches, you all know why you're here, you're all getting paid. These bandits need taking care of, and their fortress needs burning. We've a days ride ahead of us, and each of you will be given orders and put into squads along the way."​

Thren nodded, it was standard really, and he had expected no different.

The officer waved everyone off, and then another horn sounded. It was clear that they were eager to get everyone moving, though why the Bandits needed to go so quick Thren had no idea.

 

[Daemon Vorell]

No inspiring speeches, no rallying spirits -- this was a worthless band of paid killers alright. Daemon huffed at the idea, his eyes even rolling to one side. As the officer waved for dispersal he shared a few glances with other mercenaries, even trading words with them.

"And so we march into the long night, ah?" He would ask with a grin to those around him. A few laughs were earned by the older leathernecks, but the younger upstarts, ill-experienced, offered no such sentiment.

That simple absence, the lack of a reply, did a good enough job of getting the message across. The bandit menace that had gathered in the reaches was far more elusive, if not daunting, now as the token force assembled to cut them down seemed continuously short on details.

As the diverse crowd began to move out, idle chatter about tactics, pay, and organization filling the air around them, Daemon caught an eye of Thren. Though they likely had different homes, both seemed of similar make. There was little hesitation before the barbarian was approached by the other mercenary.

It was with an even toned voice that he called out to the dark-haired rough man, "You'd think they'd ruffle our feathers with a few exciting words here and there, no?" Daemon pulled his leather cloak more over his person, his steel helm bouncing at his hip. "Make us feel like we're doing Arethil a heroic deed."

Only a few more steps and the two men would have been at a close enough distance to exchange a normal greeting, the shaking of one's hands and so on. As more mercenaries passed by, Daemon continued, "But who are we? Much the same as them, just willing to be bought."

It was clear he had been referring to the bandits.

 

[Acillio Nazzaro]

Acillio gave Daemon Vorell a sideways glance, noticing the hint of contempt in his eyes. The swordsman from Elbion gave his apple one final bite, tossed the core into the grass and spoke quietly to his men, "Keep an eye on him." He gestured with the slightest nod of his head over to Daemon. There was a feeling of distrust among the host that had been summoned. A mixed bag of mercenaries was never a good idea. Better to hire a larger mercenary outfit to take on the task. Too late for that.

Those in Acillio's presence dispersed when the officer had finished speaking. They returned to their wagon where they placed chests and sheets of cloth that had been the pavilion. Shields were hung from the sides of the wagon. The ox looked miserable, perhaps the creature knew just how hard a task was before it. Acillio's company survived day to day, and the ox fared worse. As an animal it was last to be considered. Malnourished, frail, old and hauling far too much weight than it should be. One of these days it was bound to tip over and die.

Acillio Nazzaro rested his palm over the hilt of his sword and wondered where Douglas Haley was. Salim had told him Douglas was in the region but not quite where. Certainly not here. Far too dangerous for the lad. This was one of those jobs Acillio took on the side when he wasn't paying back his life debt to Douglas' master.

 

[Alona Hawse]

Alona was not so subtle as Acillio Nazzaro.

"Find yourself wanting to rob local villages of that which they need very often?" Her voice held the timbre of someone who had spent time training to talk down to green recruits making dangerous mistakes, and she turned it entirely on Daemon Vorell. "Perhaps you feel like walking into a random farmhouse and having your way with the housewife while the farmer is in his fields? Being willing to do things for gold is a low bar to draw commonalities between those that are preying on society and those that are ridding the area of the same."

Her eyes held cold, hard anger at the mere assertion that she, Acillio, and any of the others were bandits in disguise. While it was a possibility that the description was apt for some, she was decidedly not one of them.

"If you feel a camaraderie with these bandits, tell us now so I can save you the long march." Her hand fell to the hilt of her short sword, though it did not close around it.

Thren | Esmeralda​

 

[Acillio Nazzaro]

Acillio watched Alona, he gritted his teeth and flexed his neck in surprise as her words tumbled out of her mouth. Acillio had been discreet, she certainly was not. They were both from the same cut, but some were sharper than others. Acillio had been a kind soldier in the Merchant Guard, one prone to joking with comrades and recruits, befriending most, discreet in his assertions of people, though you didn't want to get on his wrong foot. He had not met Alona in Elbion but heard of her at many of the local watering holes for the guardsmen. While Acillio may be slow to anger and erupt like a volcano, Alona was as stern as steel. Direct and to the point. Certainly not as sly as Acillio, but that had its merits.

The swordsman continued to grit his teeth, eyebrows raised as he spun on his feet and walked away from what could be an explosive argument, depending on how fiery that mercenary was. He had the look of 'oh damn did she say that' as he caught up to his men by the wagon. They smiled and laughed at Acillio's surprise. He tested beside the wagon and propped an elbow up, leaning against the shields hanging from the sides.

 

[Esme]

Esmeralda watched this exchange, quiet and unyielding on her own thoughts. The company dispersed, making their last few hasty preparations. Esmeralda merely shrugged against her pack straps, her thumbs tucking under them to lighten the pressure on her shoulder.

"But we are no better than them," she told Alona, her voice soft yet assured. "Every man can find a justification to kill. Tell yourself what you want. It doesn't make us any different." She walked away, strangely nonjudgmental in the way she compared the woman to the bandits Alona had just spoken so lowly of.

Without permission, and without paying any heed to men she pushed past, she made her way to the ox. She murmured soft soothings, petting its snout and nodding as it grunted and snorted at her. "Yeah. I know, I get it," she could be heard telling it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. On her exhale, the grass below her began to yellow... then wilt... then shrivel black.

Magic.

That patch grew and grew at an abrupt speed, quickly chasing out to the men's feet. And the moment the first yellow grass touch their boots, they'd feel a sudden ... tiredness wash over them. The patch stopped, maybe ten feet out, forming a circle of death around the carted ox.

The ox bucked and huffed, nostrils flaring at the wave of strength Esmeralda granted it. And just like that the magic was released. Most of the men's energy flooded unmolested back to them, as if just stolen in that moment. Though an itch of exhaustion would remain that only sleep would scratch. The grass remained dead, but the ox remained full of the stolen life. It wasn't a permanent respite. But it was something.

Esmeralda turned to glare at Acillio's men behind her, shoulder's already stiffening at the anger she was sure would hit her for her impolite use of magic. "You'll find the strain on you will be a lot more if he dies and you have to pull that cart yourself. Take care of your bloody animals."

And she'd turn to storm away, though her hand was bracing on her half sword's pommel.Just in case.

Acillio Nazzaro

 

[Taurus Heallion]

Taurus wasn't bought - she volunteered. Not for the money but for experience. She hadn't been through any fights or battles, and she even appeared it, hesitantly glancing at the weapons, men, women, and horses they bring along. She had her own mare, one she called Chalice, a short sword, and some other items, but she was really hear to heal others, craft and repair items, or any other miniscule things they needed to be done. She wasn't really here to fight but she felt like she'd end up doing that anyway at some point.

Keeping her head down, Taurus quietly lead her horse to an clear area away from others and sat on the grass, unpacking her small tent. It was only big enough to lay down in; if she wanted to sit up she needed to duck her head. After setting it up, she sat down and chewed on some dried meat she had in her pack. She looked a little too young to be doing this but she was determined to be useful to strong people like this who would go against bandits, even if it were just for money.

Taurus watched a young woman use magic and wilt the grass around an ox. She wasn't in awe of magic but it was still interesting to watch others use their abilities. She herself was only good at lifting objects and sometimes minor energy blast to knock back attackers when they got too close but messing nature was something she always cast a curious eye on. She wanted to ask the woman where she learned to do that but she looked angry enough to retaliate in a negative way, so Taurus just kept quiet and watched everyone else.

 

[Daemon Vorell]

A light chuckle escaped Daemon as he earned himself a few weary glances and a proper scolding. Though, he did not seem nearly as serious as those that would be joining him on this hunt.

"Such would be a grace." Daemon had offered kindly to Alona Hawse, the hint of a smile on his lips. Of course the dissipating enjoyment on his expression signaled he had meant no greater offense. "I was simply exaggerating the likes of our expendability in the eyes of those that would pay us."

He'd meet the woman's piercing gaze with his own much less fiery one. Age did a number on the flame that burned. "Apologies if I offended, but to the one's shaking hands, we are only left alive because our urges are swayed with coin." His own hand rested upon the hilt of his worn sword, a nameless tool. "And should we lose touch with the persuasiveness of coin, there are others much more in tune willing to cut us down for a their own take of the profit." Daemon finished explaining, his fingers giving a quick drum along the grip of his blade.

"We are little more than brutish scum and villainy, devoid of titles, property, and worth."

With nothing else he inclined his head to the woman and turned on a heel; equipment swaying all the while. He may have spared a glance to Esmeralda and Acillio Nazzaro as both sought asylum from what did appear to be an argument in the making, but it was difficult to see unless standing an inch from Daemon's face.

He had no direction, and simply faded in with the rest of the mercenaries. If one wanted to find him, they may, but he would otherwise return to a silent journey; a familiarity similar to that of one's home.

 

[Alona Hawse]

"Fools..." Alona muttered under her breath, but let Daemon Vorell go. She'd have fought him without a second thought, but it didn't mean she had wanted to. Unlike what the man and Esmeralda seemed to think, there was a distinct difference between a mercenary and a bandit. The contract may be the only difference for some, but for herself and the majority of those within the Blades she'd met thus far, there was a line they wouldn't cross even for coin.

Taking rein on her anger, she moved to her horse and unhitched her, then led her back to where Acillio Nazzaro and his men walked. She laid the reins over the back gate of the wagon, and the horse maintained the distance like the truly disciplined animal that she was.

Alona let one hand remain on the mares neck for a moment, then joined the soldiers at the side of the wagon to walk.

Thren | Taurus Heallion​

 

[Ashara Raja]

Thorn kept quite in the rear of the small group of mercenaries, quietly watching and listening. He was more of a tracker than a front line fighter, light armor and mobility weren't of much use when two blocks of infantry smashed into one another. All that said, a decent archer was worth having around even if it came to battles.

His hood was pulled up and his eyes directed out in front of him, clearly watching the ground rather than eyeing his companions. His ears were more than enough to get a feel for what everyone thought and cared for, and Thorn didn't recognize anyone. Shield lay across his back, a quiver of a dozen or so arrows and sword on the man's hip. He wasn't wearing the plate mail or expensive brig some in the company wore, just a little leather fittings and chain shirt for protection. It would have to do. Geron, a buzzard, perched on his left shoulder, holding its wings out to soak up the rays of the sun while it let him to all the walking and travelling. The vulture's grey eyes were fixed on Emeralda, though there didn't seem to be any aggression in the creature's features.

It appeared there was a differing of opinion between them and their reasons for accepting coin for this. Thorn hadn't turned down the money to go along, not because he was bought but because he needed feed for his horse, stabled in the city. He needed tack, beans, and other foodstuffs to carry on the trail along with tools and such. It cost a man money to live, and if the merchants were willing to pay for something he would have gladly done for free, who was he to turn them down? Even with that said, there were lines that shouldn't be crossed in every situation, Thorn would just have to wait and see what those were for these bandits.

The sudden outburst of magic took Thorn a bit by surprise, mostly that he wasn't expecting someone to draw from the mercenaries in such a way. There were probably other things she could have done, but there had to be a price for every act of magic. No doubt, there would be some angry glances sent her way, but Geron seemed thrilled, squawking softly and flapping his wings as though calling out to the redhead. "I don't think she'll do that for you. You've gotten a little fat in the last few weeks anyway." The buzzard pecked the ranger's hood softly, hissing as it did so, clearly showing some personified emotions in its facial features, mainly shock and resentment. "You don't have to take every sweet the kids offer you when we go into the city. I could carry some for you, keep them for the road." Once again the buzzard squawked with some indignation. The ranger just smiled and looked up, "That's the price of using me like a pack mule, isn't it?"

 

[Thren]

Daemon Vorell | Esmeralda | Alona Hawse | Acillio Nazzaro

These people are insane. Thren thought to himself, frowning deeply as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. I love it.

A broad smile broke out on the Barbarians face.

He started to wonder if they would actually make it to the bandits before they broke out into all out warfare. This was the problem with gathering a bunch of mercenaries together, especially ones that didn't know one another. There was no trust, no one to lead everyone, no one to say anything when someone stepped out of line.

Thren would have been afraid if he didn't find it so funny.

There was something incessantly charming about a bunch of soldiers on the near outbreak of a fight. He couldn't help but grin at the thought of everyone in the camp exploding into a giant brawl before they ever even left.

 

[Acillio Nazzaro]

Esmerelda had performed a spell that left Acillio both confused and annoyed. Nay, he was angry. In the last couple of weeks he'd met a lot of intrusive people that just tickets him off. Those who got in the way without considering anything. He had felt the energy drain from him, and so too did his men. They looked tired briefly but as their energy was restored they all frowned, some growled and looked for the perpetrator. A magician should never use a spell on the uninformed lest they wanted ill will towards them.

Acillio knew nothing of magic, nor did his men. They weren't educated folk. For all they knew Esmeralda could have just cursed them or cured them of an unknown ailment and they'd be none the wiser. Acillio locked eyes with Esmeralda as she scolded him, he barked back, "Fuck off kid, not all of us have enough coin to feed everyone." No, he wasn't itching for a fight, but he wasn't pleased either. Some people just didn't understand, they could be rude, disruptive, insulting. "You have no room to judge us." It took only a quick glance to see that the men with Acillio were poorly equipped, many of them wearing the armour and arms of their forefathers. They couldn't afford a decent meal, let alone proper steel. A starving ox was the least of their concerns when some of the men in his company had their own kids to feed. Some of these men may not go home, and those kids would be the ones starving next.

"We still eating him?" One of his men chirped up, the one who had been peeling the potatoes. He was pointing towards the ox, uncertain if the meat had been spoiled by a spell. Acillio said, "We'll see how the meat goes, mate, once we make camp before the siege we'll slit his throat and hang him to dry. Not sure what she could have done to the meat with that spell. Hopefully we'll get a meal otherwise it's potatoes again." In unison everyone in the party groaned in annoyance. The dull eyes of the ox watched them, unknowing of its impending doom.

 

[Daemon Vorell]

One boot in front of the other, a step before the next, Daemon Vorell shuffled on with the slow moving herd.

Although, he now considered the fight that was a day's walk away. There were many members of this band about as well-equipped as Acillio Nazzaro and his fellows; begging the question as to whether the lack of war and chaos had injured the current mercenary standing from Elbion to the Falwood.

There were the occasional heavy troops, much like the short spoken Thren, or perhaps even Daemon himself with even what little plate he wore. "If this is going to be a real battle, we're going to need some leaders in this mess." Daemon thought to himself, perhaps even mumbling the words to just those in earshot.

Would it even be possible to deliver orders and receive a follow through? The man had no idea. That at the very least unnerved him where idle bickering did not.

Maybe if there were enough troops with decent enough equipment, they'd make for a solid vanguard. If they'd ever manage to hold a formation and keep the enemy engaged, those lighter on their feet would make good units to rush the flanks.

In the event of a fort siege? Well, hopefully the gods above had a plan for that.

 

[Taurus Heallion]

Taurus was probably the youngest one here, and the least experienced. Everyone seemed to be ready, maybe not supply-wise or social-wise but they did look ready to attack someone. She herself checked her bags for the hundredth time to make sure she still had her herbs, potions, and repairing tools. She was just nervous, not having done anything like this before.

She had only one question: how were they going to attack these bandits? Right now she didn't even know who the leader was, how they were going to go about bothering the enemy, or who was doing what and why. She frowned; disorganization was a big factor in failure, and it seemed like they were heading down that dark road. Another part would be arguing with the people who you were supposed to fight along side, which was never good.

Swallowing her food and repacking her stuff, since it seemed like they were leaving, Taurus headed towards the group of people, leading her mare along. She kept her head down, her hair hiding the bright scar on her face a little but she darted her eyes around, looking for someone who would seem to be the leader. It would have to be someone strong, well-balanced and focused on the task ahead. She knew people were hungry and probably wary from traveling here, or from sorting out their disagreements, but a person who showed that they could keep their head during stressful situations was someone they needed, to keep the peace.

And Taurus knew that wasn't her, mostly because she knew she didn't like speaking in front of people. She preferred to help where she could and maybe give some help here and there but she felt she wasn't a leader.

That's when she approached a man(Daemon Vorell) and ask, quietly, "Hello, um, sir. I was just wondering what's the plan that we have set? I don't know anyone here, but it would be decent to know what everyone can and can't do, just for the sake of...um, good communication, I guess." She blushed, feeling like she spoke too much.

 

[Esme]

The poor ox. It was innocent. It didn't have anything to protect it from being wronged, and that was one of the only things in life that could strike a real cord in the woman.

Esmeralda heard none of their planning as she marched on away, and they might count themselves lucky for that. She was not beyond hexing people. Or sending them flying out second story windows. To be fair though, that last one was an accident... And of course, there was the matter of what would happen to her if she snapped on warriors double her size.

Ox lives matter. Bandits, however... She marched on, unwavering, contents in her bag clinking in sync with her steps. She made eye contact with no one, her hood slipped up. If the journey for her remained spent in solidarity, it would certainly be considered her choice.

 

[Ashara Raja]

The mercenaries were talking about eating the ox, which Thorn could sympathize with a great deal. Beef was always good to have, especially jerky. All he'd had on the road was rabbit haunches here and there or fowl of some sort. Nothing half as filling as beef. But, they might need that ox for the siege. Never knew when one needed a battering ram constructed or a work animal to tote around supplies for ladders.

Meanwhile, the poor sod who'd been dressed down was asking about leaders. Daemon Vorell , he didn't know the name but not everyone was widely famous to his ears. For all he knew the lad could have been a legend in these parts, the price of wandering was being poorly informed. The girl standing next to him was echoing the man's own thoughts, as well. She made good points, which meant she had either been around fighting or had been well educated. "She knows what she's on about. Sounds like you've just been volunteered. Take command and set the pace and all that. I'll be scouting." The ranger turned to the girl, Taurus Heallion , "You want to lend a hand?" That was about all he could say. Anyone that didn't want to listen to the man could either leave or step up and take the reigns for all he cared. Geron hisses in a manner that almost sounded like the buzzard was snickering at the armored figure.

Now they were at least moving, but with a long day's march ahead of the crew. Just by glancing around, Thorn expected heavy casualties. Some of the companies would pocket some additional coin for the heavy losses incurred, greedy devils. Mostly it just looked like the rag tag gather wasn't suited for proper battle. Good. Sieges didn't need to be proper.

Assuming they didn't set about cursing and killing one another before they got to the fortress, the rag tag group of mercenaries didn't look too bad.

Besides, worst case he and Geron dipped into the wild and disappeared. Easier to pick off bandits when they weren't behind walls.

Thren | Esmeralda | Acillio Nazzaro | Alona Hawse​

 

[Daemon Vorell]

With both Thorn and Taurus Heallion talking at him more than to him, Daemon let out a long sigh. So much for a quiet trip. He just... well, fucked himself, hadn't he? Thorn had certainly made that blatant if nothing else. Although this was reality, not the timeless capsule that was one's mind. Daemon had to reply sooner or later.

"We don't have a plan set currently," the mercenary started, "and the potential of this army is not something I'm familiar with. Once we get closer we'll form our rank and file and go from there." His tone was certainly telling of his lack of knowledge in regards to the total force strength, sounding hesitant more than firm. "Word of advice from old to new, don't be a hero. Alright, kid?" The man had added, his eyes turning back to the road that lay before him.

Bobbing like barrels in the sea had been the heads of dozens of individuals. Some were hairless, others hairy, and even a few patchy. Most had some form of coverage though, be it a helmet or some light hood to protect from the elements -- not that they were some grave threat of course. The sounds of nature were surprisingly distinct against the idle chatter that had ensued among everyone.

But why was that? Why had a daunting shroud been cast over those that marched? Where were the drunkards -- and the boastful, where had they gone?

This mission was beginning to seem more and more like a death trap as time went on.

"May the gods watch our hides..." Daemon mused finally, hoping that this time nobody would hear.