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PostPosted: Mon Jan 27, 2014 1:00 am 
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Aelus kept his crossbow lowered but ready, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He was coiled like a viper, fangs bared and ready to lash out with his lethal bite. Peschek and his men wrote off Aelus as a noncombatant, giving him the time he needed to line up the perfect shot. He scanned Peschek's armor, looking for the perfect point to pin his bolt. The neck was vulnerable but didn't guarantee an instant kill, the head would leave the slaver dead as a day old corpse, but it moved too much, even in conversation the target swayed and swiveled. A shot to the side of the knee would incapacitate him, but leave him alive and his men's morale intact. In the end Aelus decided the neck was the best, even if it didn't kill Peschek, the gruesome scene would likely shatter his remaining men. His hand tightened around the trigger, the time was drawing closer. Peschek had the magician in his grip, his men were distracted by the eastern soldiers. Aelus leveled the crossbow, preparing to take the shot, but found his aid unnecessary. Peschek was strangled by his own whip, animated by the sorcerer.

He grinned, that was a creative way to kill, he appreciated creativity. Aelus approached the formation, shrugging off the soldiers' insults like arrows from a shield. He approached Baichu, flashing a disarming smile and bowing.

"Lady Khan, your nobility and beauty exceed the rumors."

Aelus' smile turned sinister.

"They are only outstripped by your arrogance and childlike ignorance. Have you no mind for tactical thought? The art of deception in warfare? You're supposed to be a leader among your people, I would expect such naivete from a man like Peschek, even your footsoldiers, but Khanate nobility? I would have never believed you to fall for such a simple scheme. I spent every day in my captivity actively sabotaging Peschek and his men, even attempting to assassinate him while he slept. The simple fact is that Peschek and his guards would have cut you down from a distance, you had no cover, no shields and no way to close the gap. The most effective strategy would have been the assassination of their leader. You got lucky, you had the sorcerer to save you. I don't rely on so fickle a master as fortune."

Turning away from Baichu, he faced the witch Katarina. His false smile faded.

"You jump to conclusions as quickly as your new found servants. Sorcerer or not, you have a lot to learn. I owe no loyalty to someone so young and rash. I played my part, and perhaps our paths will cross again. Hopefully when you've grown to see the advantage of subterfuge. Kill me if you must, or if you can. After such a display I'd be surprised if you can muster another lethal spell."

He glanced at Baichu and the Khanate soldiers.

"Or have your.... associates cut me down. The choice is yours."

Aelus turned away, shaking his head at the harlot that gave him away to the guards.

"Red Ram would be more fitting."

He spoke while walking into the plains, half to himself, while heading to the next town on his own route.

"Scorpions are arachnids."

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PostPosted: Mon Jan 27, 2014 2:42 am 
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Her eyes opened and then she scowled at the man. "So they are..." She thought of the 8 legs of the spiders of the Patriarchy and the 8 legs of a Scorpion. Aside from her speaking being middle grade in the common language she also hadn't spent a lot of time out of the Patriarchy in her life. So she was proficient in their language and their creatures. Her time in the desert had only meant that she encountered a scorpion once but saw them rarely. Most of the Scorpions in the desert where her mother and father lived were nocturnal and only few came out in the day so although she knew the creature and could liken characteristics of it, she didn't know everything about it. She hated to admit it though and even more so she hated the fact that the Skinwalker hadn't been so foolish. He was known for his vigilance and his knowledge. She supressed her rage and tried not to feel so much like an idiot and just kept silent as she glared at him. She saw him go across the plains and go his own route to the next town, that was fine by her. She on the other hand was gobsmacked but shook it off. "8 legs..."


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PostPosted: Mon Jan 27, 2014 2:59 am 

I'm no longer comatose!

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Baichu flashed small smile to the two men and handed over the young witch. With that she strode into the plains and began to cluck her tongue at the skittish horses. Her eyes didn’t look directly into theirs’ and her palms were face up in a peaceful compliance that beckoned them closer. Only five (correct me if I’m wrong) horses remained after the fight. Three out of the six had fallen in battle against the Riders, but there was still two heavy breed horses hitched to the Wagon. They munched on dry grasses without a care of the things that happened around them as long as they got to stretch their necks down to eat. Their spirits were strong like their thick legs and wide shoulders, made to haul the burdens of their human masters. In native tongue she sent a prayer to the animals while taking the reins of the three sorrel quarter-horses; she’d take one of the heavy breeds that reminded her of larger versions of Khanate’s furry mountain ponies.’Aw yes, Clydesdales. That’s what those are lovely horses are called.’ They were without saddle or proper reins, and she didn’t expect that any of these people had much experience on bareback so she'd take one and give the other to one of the Tiger Warriors.

Her weary feet headed back towards her new comrades when the Cold Landers spoke up, their accusatory fingers pointed at the coward. "Khanate Baichu, what is your intention with this useless wretch? He did absolutely nothing to help us get free from our bondage. It would give me great pleasure to plant his corpse in this god forsaken land, if you wish?" Dark eyes glanced at Aelus and her mouth pressed into a thin line. “You may satisfy your own desires. As I stated earlier, I am not your Commander. We share no blood and you’ve given no Oath in my name. It was out of habit I led earlier.”

She twisted a lock of ebony hair while speaking, a brief and excited thought interrupted her midsentence about getting to brush and wash this tangled mess in the next town until she remembered to finish her words. “-but more bloodshed today is unnecessary in my opinion, Nickolai.” His name sounded strange with her accent and with an embarrassed flush she thought she’d have to practice her outlander’s speech better. Clearing her throat she handed the Horses to them and spoke again. “He made his choice.”

With that, she turned with a flourish to the wagon to gather the large horses and grab some supplies for herself. She heard the silver haired coyote bring up something about the Magic-Flinger Katharine being similar to an arthropod. The Noble scoffed rolling her eyes. ’I would compare the witch to something a bit more… beauteous than something so crunchy. But yes, both the woman and scorpion are deadly.’ Baichu found two large fur cloaks inside the wagon thanks to the posh duke. She took the black wolfskin cloak and tied it around her midsection. The beige cloak she’d give to the witch. After looting the wagon of a large bag of coins, a breastplate too large for her but she adorned it anyway, a leather belt, and some saddle bags to which she put on the black Clydesdale she returned to the witch’s side whom was thrown up upon her steed. “Here.” She gave the woman the other cloak who absentmindly took it while telling off the Skinwalker. Then handed Nicolai the brown Clydesdale with a question in her eyes. “Can you handle this steed Nico-“

Aelus’s presence made the Miao stiffen and hush her question. Body warily turned to face the man before her. Her hand twitched to reach for her stave with such a predatory air suddenly surrounding her, but she held her chin high while he complimented her. “Sadly I have not heard of you, little man.” She replied curtly and that was when he took a dagger to her pride. Her almond shaped eyes became snake-like slits and she bared her teeth. If she was in front of her own people still… the Noble would have issued a challenge and slain the man like a goat for insulting her honor. But she was weary from enslavement. “I will not be spoken down to by a common man who would think his starving trickery was an insightful move. You weakened your body with your deception while I used mine to remain strong and discover their weaknesses. So when I decided to take honorable and calculated risk in a moment of shock, thanks to the Sorceress, you had to resort to cowardice and an episode of insanity. Think I did not notice Skinwalker?” She turned her nose up at him. “You are like my Viper of a brother. I, as true Khan, pity you.”

She watched him shrug his shoulders and walk off. Spitting on the ground the Khan moved to Peschek’s corpse. She wasn’t so tired anymore thanks to that bastard. She stole Peschek’s boots and gloves to fit her smaller feet/hands, and took his large bag of coins he offered to Aelus too out of spite. ’Serves him right… Ugh to wear this weasel’s clothes disgusts me. I’ll need to buy supplies before I head back home in the next town.’ Lastly she snatched a crossbow to which she put on the black Clydesdale’s makeshift saddle bag before jumping up on the sturdy beast’s back. She noticed Nicolai had gotten upon the other Clydesdale and the other two had to regretfully share an animal she spoke up.

“We should get moving before we lose more light. I suggest we go down the road opposite of the way the fat duke came. Questions would be asked about a haggard party arriving in a town wearing their soldier’s armor.” With their confirmation she nodded pulling her horse up beside the Magic-Flinger’s, “Let us go Fiery one. Tell us if you tire.” And then moved herd past sauntering Aelus, the man with the talent to make everyone hate him, and towards a new future. Not knowing what would happen next but she hadn’t held such hope in a long time.


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PostPosted: Mon Jan 27, 2014 5:09 pm 
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The town of Syvatlo was neither big nor small, neither rich nor poor. Just another dot on the map, perhaps a day's ride south from the crossroads. Just a collection of houses, a stone keep, a church or two. The only real distinguishing feature was the market square. On any given day this square might be dead or full of traveling peddlers, local artisans, and outlying farmers selling goods.

Today was a market day. The square bustled, and the air was filled with cries of vendors and strange smells. "Fresh duck!" "Exotic herbs! Straight from the ports at Bakh!" "Jade from the Steppes!"

And of course, an enterprising slaver at one end of the square prepared his wares for display.

Katerina took in the spectacle with wide eyes from the back of her appropriated horse. She had never seen anything like this without being one of the items on sale. It drowned the excitement from when she was a little girl and the merchant ships might deign to row ashore a launch with a few goods for whatever pennies the fishermen could scrape together.

Still, the wariness had not yet deserted her. She bit into a crisp apple she had just purchased, then turned to her new companions. "We can't stay in the Plains," she said, voicing what they were all thinking. "Someone is bound to piece together what happened and come after us with our armor here," she said with a wave. "We have to scrape together some more money and leave the realm, at least for a little while. Most important, we have to stick together."

"Squires," a low voice whispered under the crowd to them. Katerina turned to see a man, thin, dried-up and rugged, face marred with scars. For a moment she panicked, thinking they had been found. But the man was alone, and looked expectant rather than hostile.

"Yes, friend," she said hesitantly.

"I can see you've weapons and armor, but there's no troops in town today," the man said quietly. "You're vassals to no one, I can tell. Listen, if you need some coin, we're recruiting at the tavern just up the way. Count Sachkov is making some other damnfool expedition and is supplementing his troops with hired blades. The Khoszul hurt him badly in the last war, and it seems there isn't quite enough levies to go around. Our captain Livinko might not be the most pleasant man, but he pays top silver and doesn't ask questions." The scarred man nodded. "Think it over," he said as he melted back into the crowd.

Katerina nodded. "A perfect opportunity has arisen. Any thoughts, my friends?"


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PostPosted: Tue Jan 28, 2014 1:49 am 
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I observed the town and saw spirit that the mountain people didn't have. The mountain people didn't even bother to beg or put up many markets anymore. Most were to poor to afford anything really so why set up a shop to people who can't even buy anything. She observed the streets and how the town seemed simple except for the market on the right day. Then it seemed busy and complex. The White Archer knew that they looked out of place and nodded as the Red Scorpion said that they should get out of this land right away and stay away for a little while. When a man approached them she tried to keep her eyes from widening as she feared that they had been found out, luckily for them they hadn't. Even better the man had put an interesting proposition on the table, one that could be very useful for them indeed. Maybe the weapons and everything made them look out of place but they also made them look like the perfect candidates for this particular job. Not wanting to sound to eager the White Archer stayed silent until the Red Scorpion asked her and the rest of their companions what they thought.
"I think it is an interesting opportunity." She said in a coaxing tone but also as though she hadn't made up her mind fully yet. "It would be something definitely worth at least considering."


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PostPosted: Wed Jan 29, 2014 2:16 pm 

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Nikolai Vedeneyev
Nikolai took the large work horse to ride. He'd never spent much time on horseback, but thought, 'how hard could it be?' It must have been a comical sight to see him squirm his way up onto the horse's back the horse liked to take a few side steps to the right as Nikolai wiggled his way up. Pietr chuckled while sliding into the saddle of the quarter horse. Kolya simply gave him a disgruntled look and spurred the large beast forward.

He found the wide back of the animal to actually make it easier to ride. He tried to direct the animal left and right. The horse seemed to have a mind of his own, stopping to eat some grass. In the Khoszul army, if you aren't in a cavalry unit, the only soldiers on horseback are the leadership. The foot soldiers move about by walking. In many cases, Nikolai had run everywhere they traveled to. Running was their most often mode of transportation. But he determined that he would feel comfortable enough at riding this horse to make it less difficult.

He'd already forgotten about Aelus and moved on. Nikolai didn't care if he had to kill another man in his life. He was ready to head back to his home near the lake. Maybe he would be reunited with his parents or one of his younger brothers. That made him think of Griegor which in turn made him sad. He became miserable riding on the oversized beast's backside. Hopefully his younger brothers were healthy. Maybe he could meet a nice Khoszul girl and make a family of his own?

When they arrived in Syvatlo all Nikolai was concerned with was getting something to eat. He was starving and needed some food right away. There were plenty of vendors offering fresh duck and other gamy fowl. He didn't care about the quality, he just wanted to eat. The smells in the marketplace were driving him nuts. He was prepared to forgo the butcher and begin eating his horse right then and there if it would be acceptable. But he would not do that.

A stranger who appeared to have lived the hard life as a soldier picked up a conversation with Katerina. The stranger was apparently trying to recruit them to hire out as mercenaries for some Count Sachkov who wanted to make an expedition. Nikolai would have an issue if the Count wished to commit a foray into Khoszul Lands, but other than that, this appeared to be a great opportunity to get some money.

"Can we get new armor?" Pietr suggested. "I'm tired of this old stuff and would like to find something that fits me better. I honestly believe we can get better weapons than these as well." Nikolai nodded and grunted in agreement. He didn't want to be seen too much longer in this armor. It looked like it belonged to someone else. It was not his.

"Sure, I'll go fight for this Count Sachkov," Nikolai responded. "But I would prefer to sell this armor and get something better. I think if we are going to serve as swordsmen, we at least deserve better quality equipment." Beyond his better judgment Nikolai was willing to hire on as a mercenary and so was his new found friend, Pietr Sheremetev. He hadn't the opportunity to discuss returning to the Khoszul Lands with Pietr yet, but would go with him and the rest for now.

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PostPosted: Thu Jan 30, 2014 5:16 am 
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(Let's roll)

The inside of Syvatlo's lone tavern was many things to many people. It was a place to relax, a place to keep out of the elements and a place to do business of many kinds. But most of all, at least today, it was a place for a large group of mercenaries to get uproariously drunk. Which they seemed to be doing admirably.

Ysira Kadanko sat at one of the many rough hewn oak tables that the tavern's current population seemed to be mostly gathered around, when they weren't hounding the barman for more drink or fondling one of the serving girls in a corner. Nursing a pint mug of ale that didn't deserve the name, she was squeezed uncomfortably between a large man she knew as Hoarmouth and the captain of their little ragtag company, a man by the name of Livinko.

She had been hired on to this 'expedition', for lack of a better word that wasn't completely negative or derogatory, to act as a disciplinarian. In other words, she was being asked to keep order amongst a large group of men who all knew how to fight and didn't take kindly to being told what to do, especially by a woman. It would take a true genius or a true fool to do this job properly, and while Ysira was far from being a fool, she wasn't quite a genius either.

Once again the crowd shifted like some kind of weird animal, this time allowing a small, scarred man to approach and place himself on the bench opposite. Leaning over the table, he began speaking directly to Livinko.

"I saw another group of likely looking blades come into the market just now, Captain. Three women, two men, armed well enough. Their gear looked a bit mismatched though, so I'd wager they're looking of a bit of silver to rub together." He sat back and took a swig from his mug before leaning over again to continue.

"With the way I left them chattering, I'd say they're rightly considering it." Livinko nodded, jotting down a couple of notes on the roll of writing paper in front of him. Ysira finally piped up, slipping out of her cold and disinterested demeanour for a moment.

"When will they be coming in, Stanislav? Are you sure?" The light mockery in her tone was apparent to all who weren't already drunk, who were mercifully few. She continued in the same vein.

"First rule of being a mercenary Stan, what is it? Don't take anything for granted. We'll see whether or not they turn up and if they do, then you'll get your commission. Not before." The scarred man shrugged, before putting all of his concentration into divining the secret of life in the depths of his mug. Ysira herself couldn't care less about this bunch of newcomers, if they even existed. And she'd believe that when she saw it.


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PostPosted: Fri Jan 31, 2014 11:17 pm 

I'm no longer comatose!

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The weary rag-tag bunch rode into Syvatlo, a dusty little town. Baichu looked around to her comrades with looks of sore-bottom from not riding often before glancing towards the wooden structures. It wasn’t anything impressive or note-worthy, but didn’t lack the feeling of life like the flat roads had. The market was bustling with peddlers and tradesmen just dying to force their goods down your throat and take your hard earned coin in exchange.

Baichu sniffed precariously at the smell of food wafting through the air. Her stomach roared with hunger at the scent of real food compared to stale beets. Even Shroud, her newly named horse, pawed the ground with heavy hoof at some nearby grains and wickered softly.

“Shhh. There will be time for feasting soon, friend.”

A hand gently patted the thick neck of the animal. What she really wanted was to clean up and purchase better goods first; then she’d treat her stomach. Baichu looked down at her ensemble of wear. If she traded in these overbearing armor pieces and weapons to a Smith she’d get a good bit of coin. Maybe purchase a new chest plate even if she was given enough to spare. Then find herself a tradesmen or Weapon-monger from the Steppes to gather the rest of her essential goods… They were close enough to home that there had to be one nearby. Her people were natural nomads and pursuers of progress after all.

Shroud pulled up beside the fiery haired woman with an indignant humph. Baichu opened her mouth to inform the Witch that her service was done when the woman spoke up before her.

“We can't stay in the Plains, someone is bound to piece together what happened and come after us with our armor here," she said with a wave to them all. "We have to scrape together some more money and leave the realm, at least for a little while. Most important, we have to stick together."

Baichu knitted her brows together. She saw no need to stay together anymore. Yes, they needed to ditch their armor, which she was already planning, and money was scarce… but she was a survivor and would make do now that she had a steed and Peschek’s coin. Her brother’s throat was awaiting the slit from her knife still and she was impatient. Once again the Khan tried to voice her own goals when a scarred little man came up with an offer of Mercenary Work at a Tavern up the way. Then he waddled away and the Khanate decided she didn’t like the scarred man. He spoke ill of his Master and an\ servant who spoke ill of his master wasn’t trustworthy or his Master wasn’t deserving of respect in her eyes.


Katerina to her left nodded after the man. "A perfect opportunity has arisen. Any thoughts, my friends?" Everyone gave their two scents but the fallen noble. “I will pass for now. My service to you in finished. I have my own goals, Lady Katerina.” She wouldn’t use her nickname for the woman here due to the public nature. “However, if I find myself in need of more coin after I finish my business here at the market then I will meet you at the Tavern.”

With that she bowed her head respectively to each person before pulling the reins of Shroud to head deeper into the market. In an hour’s time she had sold all the stolen goods from the plain’s battle except, of course, the stolen coin and the umbra wolf cloak tied like a skirt around her waist. A battle trophy. The black haired beauty then found herself infront of a man selling Jade from the Steppes. His slitted eyed widened immensely at the sight of her and bowed his head repeatedly. “Much respect!” he practically hollered in their native language. Baichu clucked her tongue angrily at herself, berating that she hadn’t thought about if they’d recognize her or not.

“Calm yourself.” She said slowly raising her freehand, the other held Shroud’s new reins, and the man quieted. “My Khan, the people feared you died.” She raised her eyebrows in shock. “I am not the Khan, Miao-brother. I am an exiled woman and shamed warrior.” The man shook his braided bearded face with a dark smirk. “Many of the other Caravans respect you and preferred you as Khan to your fool brother. The previous Khan showed that you deserved honor despite being a woman. We will not fall for the treacherous lies he spread about you killing the Beloved Khan. You would never bring harm or dishonor to the Khanate, Mistress.”

She swallowed a thick lump in her throat at his comment. She had killed her father, but for the first time she would lie to her people. “Yes. The viper spews poison into the Steppes. What is the situation there?” Shame filled her as the man nodded in excitement. “Many have brought their flags and horses under the False-Khan’s banner. He yells for war but cannot move until all are under his name. Some still hold off thinking that we aren’t ready like you had once suggested. He is too hot-headed. Calls himself the Stone Dragon at times like child. So the people hoping you would return call you the Jaded Dragon, because you were betrayed but remain stronger, smarter, and more beautiful than him. Whom better than you to represent our primary jeweled product?”

Baichu was taken aback. Completely. To think some Caravans still waited for her… were ready to fight and die under her as Kahn. As a woman! Baichu thought she’d just ride in and challenge her brother to a duel. Didn’t care if she died after as long as she restored her honor. But this… this changed things. She clenched her eyes in desperate attempt to not shed a tear and appear weak. Instead she focused on the cheesy name they had given her. It was horrible but befitting. Breathing in deeply she spoke with a stern gaze, “I will return to the Steppes someday soon. I am not yet strong enough to face my brother or support the people. Many believe I betrayed them. I must gather supporters and coin before I return. Worthy to take back our lands. Travel back and tell my loyal nomads this… That the Jaded Dragon will ride into battle roaring with the ferocity of our land’s winds and waters. My horse’s hooves shall make men tremble and my falcons will blind traitors with their talons. But they must have patience…”


He practically bounced with her heated words. She knew now that she’d have to convince the magic-flinger to assist her in taking back the Steppes. She was going to go to war. The tradesmen let Baichu use his facilities to wash her slave worn body. His hands gently pulled a jade comb through her long hair, returning it to silken layers, and braided in some beads here and there. Finally he sold her a new halberd, better fitting armor, his beautiful woven leather saddle for Shroud, some lady face-paints, and dark black/red women’s clothing. She had hardly any coin near the end and waved goodbye to the man who began packing up to begin his journey to spread the word that Baichu Khan was on a war path.

She adorned her new garments and armor with red eye liner that was accented her exotic hawkish features. Her clean, midnight, mane flowed out behind her steady steps with Horse and weapon in each hand. People glanced at her with wanting or nervous glances as she passed them with chin held high. Almost arrogantly. Baichu approached the Tavern, tied up Strode at the stables with some hay, and strode in with searching eyes. Surprised that she didn’t see anyone yet the woman sat at a lone table with crossed arms. She ignored catcalls and ordered a stew and tea, watching what she assumed was their hirers with calculating orbs.

((Sorry it’s super rough. I’m tired lol.))


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PostPosted: Mon Feb 03, 2014 8:51 pm 
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The tavern was nameless, classless. Just a building with badly mortared stone walls, a knotty timbered roof, and liberal sawdust sprinkled across the floor. In a country that viewed ale and kvass as healthier and safer to drink than water, even a midsized town like Syvatlo consumed an astonishing amount of alcohol. At all hours, the tavern was crowded, drunks sleeping off their buzz atop low clay ovens that kept the cold at bay.

In this case, the tavern was more crowded than usual. Several tables were taken up by the officers of the mercenary company, surrounded by young farm boys looking for adventure and quick coin. It beat serving as a levy for one of the counts, by all reckonings.

The thin, scarred man, Stanislav, looked up and saw Katerina as she entered the tavern. Smiling, the man waved her over to the table he was standing next to. Katerina arched an eyebrow to see among the burly men a woman, just as weatherbeaten and tough looking as any of the men.

"You came," Stanislav said with a bright smile. "You see, Captain Livinko?"

Livinko nodded tiredly, looking up front his notes. He was a tall man whose features might be considered handsome were it not for the missing right eye he never bothered to cover or hide, a fleshy scarred lump of an eyelid the only thing that protected the empty socket. "Alright. I'll take the men," he said with a wave to Kolya and Pietr. "As for the women, we always need someone for the cleaning and cooking."

"You are mistaken, sir," Katerina said sharply, the steel in her voice surprising even her. "I intend to fight in your line. I have armor and sword, and companions who will teach me to use it better. If you disrespect me," she hissed, leaning across the table, "you will suffer for it."

Livinko laughed, unintimidated. "I like you, woman. What grandiose name do you go by?"

"Katerina."

"No sobriquet, Katerina? Come now, I sure you have some nickname."

She thought for a second. "Someone did recently call me the Red Scorpion."

Livinko chuckled at that, nodded with his empty socket staring at her. "Well, stick with us, woman, and you shall bring great fame on that name. You shall fight in our line." He poured a clear liquor from the bottle in front of him, offered a mug to Katerina. "Drink up, lads! The august warrior known as the Red Scorpion has graced us mere mortals by deigning to join our humble company!"

Men around the bar grinned, mocking raised mugs in salute. Some leered at the pretty girl, others started dropping coins on bets. How long until she ran away or fell in combat.

Katerina, for her part, remained stoic. Give it time, she told herself. "Thank you, my good man," she said, taking the offered drink. "To our success."

"We leave tomorrow dawn," Livinko said. "It's a long march to the desert lands. Count Sachkov, our employer, has set his sights on the border fortress of Al-Ribat. This may be the last drink he get before you face Bakh armies. So enjoy it, Red Scorpion, make it last."

"My thanks, Captain, for accepting me."

Livinko smiled, his empty eye staring. "Oh, it was my pleasure."


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PostPosted: Tue Feb 04, 2014 3:33 pm 

PLaying SQUAD with TASQ

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Kolya and Pietr took their earnings and quickly found a Smith who purchased their old armor and weapons for a modest sum. They used that money plus some of their take from the slaver and purchased new pieces. They each took a steel Shishak helmet with mail zabralom, a kol'chuga steel ringed hauberk, Nakol'nok for the shoulders, burutlik for the shins and calves, naurch for the forearms, rukavitsa for the hands, zarukava for the upper arms, a kite shield, and a 45" broad sword with cross spar and pommel. They decided to retain their daggers to remember what they did on the plains, as trophies. The Shishak helmet is a round conical shaped helmet with 12" shaft protruding at the top center. 18" of black horse hair cascaded off the back of the helmet. The face of the helm has a flared nose strap and the mail zabralom wrapped around the lower portion of the helmet protecting the soldier's neck and face. It is attached by a hook at the top of the open face. The steel kol'chuga is a tight fitting shirt with short sleeves ending just above the elbow. The shirt length extends to just above the knees. The shirt is made up of large steel rings that look more like flat washers than the standard ring mail found in other areas. The Nakol'nok consists of steel plates wrapped around the top of the Kol'chuga mail shirt to protect the shoulders. Some call these parts, spaulders. The burutlik are steel plated shin guards that wrap around the leg to protect the shins and calves. The naurch is similar to the burutlik, but for the forearms. The rukavitsa are protective gauntlets or mittens made of leather padding with a series of flexible plates on the upper side. The zarukava are a set of metal plates covering the upper arm fastened with leather straps. Nikolai's kite shield is crafted of wood and steel, with steel bands and steel rivets. The face of the sheet is painted red.

When Nikolai and Pietr completed their purchases, they had enough to buy some food and maybe a few coins extra. They decided it was best to rejoin Katerina who was heading to see the mercenary company at the tavern.

They entered the dark tavern behind Katerina and listened to her conversation with a gentleman they later learn named, Stanislav. The man smiled when he saw Katerina, Nikolai and Pietr. He looked toward another gentleman, seated named Captain Livinko. This must be the Captain of the company, Nikolai considered. Captain Livinko appeared to be a veteran of many battles. His grotesque eye socket gave him a bit more intimidating appearance than he should have otherwise received.

"Alright. I'll take the men," he said with a wave to Kolya and Pietr. "As for the women, we always need someone for the cleaning and cooking."

Katerina obviously did not take kindly to his dismissive tone, suggesting that women were incapable of hand to hand combat or wielding a weapon in battle. Kolya knew better. While the Captain and the others in the room laughed at Katerina's aggressive demeanor, Nikolai and Pietr remained stoic, smiling only because they knew of her other talents as what Baichu called, 'Magic-Flinger'.

"We leave tomorrow dawn," Livinko said. "It's a long march to the desert lands. Count Sachkov, our employer, has set his sights on the border fortress of Al-Ribat. This may be the last drink he get before you face Bakh armies. So enjoy it, Red Scorpion, make it last."

When Nikolai heard the name, Count Sachkov his face went pale. Sachkov was the man who sold both Nikolai and Pietr into slavery after the battle against General Zolnerowicz. Always the reluctant warrior, again serving a potentate he did not want to serve, someone he would prefer to kill than fight for. It was not the time to have a conversation with anyone, including Pietr regarding the virtues of Count Sachkov and decided he would learn what he could about his new employer before either killing him or making his way back to Khoszul Lands. For now he would simply wait and see, then collect his earnings in due time.

It was then that Nikolai and Pietr finally had the opportunity to sample the meats and ale of this fine establishment. That above all else, made him happy. He was content, for now. Tomorrow he would begin the march to Al-Ribat, wherever that was and eventually meet his new employer. For he only ever saw Count Sachkov at a distance, he knew the man would never recognize him as being one of the soldiers he defeated that day over two months ago. This is a secret, he and Pietr will keep, otherwise end up dead.

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"The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude to me is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than success, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, gift, or skill. It will make or break a company...a church...a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past...we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10 percent what happens to me and 90 percent how I react to it. And so it is with you... we are in charge of our attitudes. "
~ Charles Swindoll


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PostPosted: Thu Feb 06, 2014 3:00 am 
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Aelus stood on the outskirts of Syvatlo. The wind tossed his ragged clothes and chilled his skin. For some unknown reason Aelus saw the cold as another curse laid upon him by his captivity under Peschek. His newfound freedom proved otherwise, the chains were gone, the slavers dead, but the cold remained, savage and wrathful. He flexed his stiff fingers and wandered into town. It was no different than most of the other towns he had terrorized during his time in the Duchy. Aelus swept through the town, liberating the coin purses of nearly a dozen of the town's more affluent citizens. He stopped in at a tailor with his new found currency, buying a padded leather vest, brown cloak, leather gloves, soft soled boots and a pair of pants with more pockets than most commoners could count. After his business was finished Aelus made quick use of a back room to change, leaving his old clothes on the floor.

He needed his mask. There was something fundamentally wrong about his existence without his face. He bought a small plank of wood and a cloth hood. Aelus made his way to a back alley and sat on a derelict crate, drawing the guard's dagger and carving away at the wood. He hacked away at the plank for hours, rounding the edges and working in the finer details of the face. When it was finally finished he smiled, it lacked color, but that could be taken care of later. The fanged face of Anu Shirek, the Andyec tribe's god of thieves, shadows and trickery. The Laughing God, The Snake, The Skinwalker. This mask's visage was not nearly so glorious as its predecessor, but concessions had to be made, he could have a better mask crafted when time and resources were not so limited. Aelus hooked the mask to the hood and pulled it over his head, breathing in deep and opening his eyes. He had finally been resurrected.

His next destination was the slave market. The calls of the auctioneers could be heard hundreds of yards away, finding the center of activity was as simple as moving towards the sound. He pushed through the crowd, hood up and mask on. Patiently he waited as the options were paraded before the crowd. He had enough coin left to purchase one of the cheaper slaves, but choosing the right one was imperative. A desert nomad, a mountain tribesman, lesser political prisoner, a terrified girl, and finally his choice. A young man was brought up to the stage, still a boy by most standards. The auctioneer introduced the boy.

"Here we are! From the Duchy itself, local boy taken into custody after an unfortunate run in with the city watch. He's since been broken of his poor habits and would serve as an excellent house servant, field hand or bed warmer if it suits your tastes."

Aelus walked to the edge of the stage and tossed a coin purse at the auctioneer's feet. He spoke in a grim tone, leaving the otherwise wordy salesmen at a loss for words.

"I'm taking this one."

The auctioneer chuckled.

"Proactive man, he's yours!"

He knelt down as the guards unchained the boy.

"Enjoy him."

Aelus glared at the man from behind his mask, ushering the auctioneer to back away and return to his business. The boy was brought around the stage and handed over to Aelus, who took the rope attached to the boys bonds, leading him away from the crowd. The slave waited until they were out of sight of the crowd, then attempted to tackle Aelus, who sidestepped and kicked the slave behind the knees. The boy stumbled and fell to the ground. He attempted to recover but found his face pressed into the mud by Aelus' boot. The Skinwalker spoke to the boy in a condescending, deadpan voice.

"I have no desire to harm you boy, but if you make another attempt to escape I'll show you just how cruel a god I am."

The boy spit into the dirt, his face still being pushed into the filth.

"**** you! No masked ****'s gonna hold me against my will."

Aelus smiled, removing his boot from the boy's face.

"I had a feeling about you boy."

The slave scrambled to his feet.

"How would you like to earn your freedom?"

The boy looked at Aelus suspiciously.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you answer a couple questions and I'll let you go. If you're especially helpful I'll even give you some coin before I set you on your way."

"I'm listening."

"The slave stalls, how many guards patrol them?"

Aelus spent the next few minutes extracting information from the boy, he had a good mind about him and remembered the interior of the stall clearly, like he had been planning his own escape. When the boy finished Aelus nodded and tossed him the last of his coins.

"There you go. You've earned it."

The boy caught the coins and looked up at Aelus.

"What are you planning?"

"I'm going to let everyone know that I'm not as dead as they'd hoped."

"You're breaking into the stall."

Aelus turned away.

"Let me come. I know people in there, I can help you."

"This is going to require precision and skill. Your incarceration proves that you lack both."

He began walking away, pausing at the mouth of the alley.

"If you're really interested in my work, meet me in the shadow of the temple at nightfall."

Then he disappeared around the corner, heading for the stalls. He took a moment to haul himself onto a low roof, climbing to a taller building in the towns closely packed field of shingled plains. He make a guess as to his directing from the vantage point and made his way towards the stall along the rooftops. It always amazed him, the tendency of people to look down, almost like looking up from the ground was as frightening as looking down from on high. It didn't take long for Aelus to reach the holding cells. He dropped down from the rooftops, landing behind one of the patrolling guards. The stall was relatively undefended, with half the stock out for sale and the general safety of the town the owner saw little reason to pay too many guards. Aelus followed along the guards path for a while, mimicking the man's motions and stride. He swept up an inch away from the man's ear.

"Hope you're single."

The man jumped and Aelus snapped his neck. Two more. He slid along the side of the building towards the front door, drawing his dagger. He peered around the corner, one guard at the door, leaning on an old pike. His armor was old and ragged, worn from years of use, likely before the man had even joined the guard. Not long before it'd have a new owner. The guard raised his free hand to rub his eyes, then Aelus swept up beside him and grabbed the man around the mouth, dragging him to the ground. The guard dropped his pike and began swinging at Aelus. The Skinwalker dodged the first hit, taking a second before sliding the dagger under the guard's chainmail hood. Aelus stood up and dodged into the door. The last guard was sitting in a rickety chair with his feet on a box, seemingly oblivious to the disturbance outside. Aelus lurked in the shadows, slinking towards the guard in the chair. The man grunted, sitting up to grab a bottle from the box. Aelus hurried behind the chair, waiting for the man to lean back again. The guard finished his drink and put his weight on the chair back, pushing it towards the assassin. Aelus reached out and snapped the man backwards, crashing him into the ground. He drew the guard's sword and plunged it into its owner's chest.

Aelus lifted the keys from the guard's belt and set to work unleashing the remaining prisoners. They congregated in the center of the spacious building, apparently confused about their next course of action. A few trickled out of the stall, unwilling to wait for the town watch to be alerted to the bodies outside. Aelus released the last of the slaves, then confronted the congregation.

"All of you are free. There are no strings attached, all I ask is that you escape, flee to the far edges of the country and listen. Listen for my name. I am Anu Shirek, The Skinwalker. Spread stories of what you saw here, let others know that I am alive, and I am not running. Any of you who desire to aid me in my efforts, meet me at the temple of the gods at nightfall."

He paused.

"Now would be a good time to run."

The formation broke and the slaves filtered out into the town, integrating into the citizenry. Aelus strode out of the stalls, picking the pockets of the newly corpsified guards and fading into the back alleys of Syvatlo. His recent exertion reminded him just how hungry he was after his time with Peschek. He scoured the multitude of signs that lined the streets. In the end it didn't prove to be a sign that led him to the tavern, but the foot traffic. People moved in and out of the building constantly. Aelus wandered in, drawing a couple odd glances. As he entered the tavern he caught a glimpse of the other freed slaves that battled Peschek. He took a seat and ordered a meal, observing the tail end of his acquaintances' conversation with a gruff soldier type.

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PostPosted: Fri Feb 07, 2014 5:36 am 

I'm no longer comatose!

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After a few minutes of banter between mercenary and comrades, that was laced with tension, did Baichu stand up with a reticent huff. Matters had been settled while she had remained virtually undetected in the corner; partially thanks to her new gear and cleaner complexion. It was good she hadn’t been with them when they first entered. The Leader of the rag tag these Masterless strays would have been beheaded and the loss of the job inevitable.

Hips moved at a slow pace towards the rest of her new comrades which took to drink and food merrily. No doubt loving the taste of real meal after so long in chains and hunger.

The Khan hesitated for a moment as she watched the two Khoszuls bumped drinks with Katerina. What if they didn’t want her help anymore?! Biting her chapped lip, nervously, the woman glared forward in thought. Calculating a way she could infiltrate back into the pack. She needed the Magic-Flinger for her own ambitions now and gaining her favor would be the best move. A chocolate eyed spied the gallant effort of a bold and highly intoxicated Merc’s hand reaching for Katerina’s behind. ’That’ll do.’ She thought stoicly advancing forward and pressing the heel of her riding boot to the man’s wrist.

“OW OW OW!”

“Oh? I apologize. I did not see such small hands on this seat. Please forgive my grievances. Might I ask you retract your sneaky hand and allow me to sit with my comrades?”

“What?! Another ****ing! How many of you are ther-AGH!” She ground her heel even deeper into the man’s skin and tilted her head up.

“I apologize again. I suffer from forgetfulness. Sometimes I forget my own strength or how to not cut out a man’s eyes or to not rip out his family jewels during bonding... Please forgive me.”

Her tone was chilly and slanted eyes looked down on the Mercenary with a hint of malice. He swallowed nervously and looked away like his hand wasn’t even a part of him anymore. Her boot freed his bruised wrist a tad reluctantly before settling onto the bench beside the Fiery One with an awkward cough.

“Greetings once again.”

Hailing a Tavern wench the Khanate ordered a round of strong drinks, made from the grasses of her land, for to impress her team. While awaiting the order she turned to look at the ex-band of slaves. “I hope I did not make you wait too long. I have decided to take part in this excursion, if you would allow me the honor? Now please enjoy the taste of my people. It’s better to drink it fast, it’s very… bitter.”

She gestured to four glasses set before them of green liquid. The Khanate took one and downed it swiftly earning some mocking cheers from the Mercs.


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PostPosted: Wed Feb 12, 2014 6:09 am 
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The new group seemed to be settling in nicely. If by settling in you meant gathering in a protective huddle at the main table, avoiding conversation with the drunkards and only politely answering the less so. If she hadn't been so apathetic about life in general, Ysira might have found this cute or even endearing. As it was, she could barely muster the will to care about their existence.

Her musings were cut short by Stan leaning over her with his hand outstretched, waiting for the money he was owe for finding these new meat-bags to fill out the ranks. With a sigh, she handed over the ten silver pieces he wanted, likely significantly more than he deserved.

The 'Red Scorpion' and her merry little band looked like a bunch of ex-slaves, something she could empathise with, not that she cared to. The signs were there. Thin frames, hollow faces, the barest glimpse of chafing around their wrists and a very obvious pack mentality. Safety in numbers and all that. All things she knew from so many years of not owning her own life, a crushing experience if she was honest with herself. It was hardly surprising they were sticking together.

Right at that moment she was studying one of the Khoszul men in his well fitting armour, likely newly bought or stolen. The former was just as likely as the latter, in her opinion. He had paled noticeably when Livinko had mentioned Sachkov's name, something that had caught her interest. It was no secret that Sachkov had recently campaigned against the Khoszul, it was most of the reason he was hiring mercenaries after all. She suspected that at the very least he had fought and been captured, if not both of the pair.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a boot finding it's way on top of one of the other merc's hand. Her eyes flicked up to the face of the owner, a Miao woman of not unpleasant appearance, glaring at the hand's owner. When she ground her heel further into his vulnerable flesh, she couldn't help but release a dark chuckle, watching the bloody idiot get exactly what he deserved for his stupidity. And then the damned woman had to go and order some Grass Wine, a bitter drink that she could hardly stomach. She watched intently as the foul liquid passed the lips of the small company, hoping that at least one of them would spit. But none of them did.

Ysira shook her head, clearing the thoughts of competition from her mind. She need not compete with these pathetic excuses for soldiers. Inclining her head to the Miao woman she spoke quietly.

"I see we have another drinker here. That's something I can respect." She stood slowly, working out the kinks from her long session of sitting down.

"However, until you can prove yourself in combat, stallion-fucker, I have nothing to say other than try not to get killed." Her eyes settled on the rest of them.

"That goes for all of you. Even you, 'Red Scorpion'." That last was spoken with a mocking tone, deliberately aimed to test their tempers. One needed to know who they fought with after all.

"Shall I call the Company to order, Captain? Or do we wait for tomorrow?"


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PostPosted: Wed Feb 12, 2014 2:58 pm 
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"We move out tonight, Ysira," Livinko told her. "Under cover of darkness. I don't wish to announce our departure to any Bakh spies who may be here in town." Though the likelihood of such an occurrence was rather low and the logistical difficulties of quietly moving out a bunch of rowdy drunks in the dead of night were many, his lieutenants still strained to hear his plan over the noise of the crowded tavern. "We head south, following the River Licur, into the desert lands. We will rendezvous with Sachkov's forces here," he said, tapping a bony finger at a point on the map spread on his table. Just north of Al-Ribat. "Chances are good we'll beat them to the rally point by at least a day or two," he said, a straight-toothed smile incongruous under the gaping hole where his eye had been. "In which case holding the roads will fall to us."

His lieutenants spent the next hour or two until sundown trying to kick awake those who had trouble holding their liquor, while also trying to convince those who could to put down their ale. Though no drums or fifes announced their departure from Syvatlo, the loud cursing of stumbling drunks and occasional snatch of slurred song did the job just as well.

Though no military strategist, Katerina could see the problems with this. Indeed, by the time daylight broke, it was clear at least a dozen men had dropped out of the company during the night march. Most likely passed out drunk on the side of the road.

Additionally, it seemed like the entirety of issued rations for anyone was a small wedge of cheese. Though they carried plenty of weapons, Livinko seemed to have forgotten that troops need to eat as well. At some point, the company would have to stop at one of the little villages along the Licur and buy supplies.


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PostPosted: Thu Feb 13, 2014 10:33 am 

PLaying SQUAD with TASQ

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Nikolai found some comfort in the routine. That was the life of a soldier, whether you wanted to or not. Maybe he just couldn't admit to himself that he secretly enjoyed this lifestyle because it was familiar? What else was there for him to do? Build a farm? Be a lake fisherman? Take a wife? The ideas fancied him and he played out the scenarios in his mind. Sure, they were different and undoubtedly safer. Were his parents happy? He wondered how they were doing. He would appreciate seeing them again sometime and his younger brothers.

Wake up was at O-dark-thirty, just like it had always been in the Khoszul Army. That green ****, Baichu gave everyone was disgusting and left a moldy dry taste in one's mouth. Kolya noticed Pietr already strapping on his armor. Nikolai sat up and began doing the same.

In hushed tones, "you hear who we work for now, eh?" Kolya quietly mentioned to Pietr without looking at him.

"Aye, but no harm, no foul," Pietr replied just as quietly while cinching up a pair of burutlik around his calves.

"No harm, no what?" Koya calmed himself. "That worthless sack of **** sold us into slavery."

"Sure, but what would you have done if you were him?"

"I would have killed us all," Kolya slowly admitted fitting the ringed hauberk over his padded under shirt. "I suppose we owe him a debt of gratitude for allowing us to live, unspoken gratitude nonetheless." Kolya smiled up at Pietr.

Pietr returned the smile after placing the Shishak helmet atop his skull. He hefted the 45" broadsword and slid it inside the scabbard, then turned to leave. Nikolai finished dressing and fell in with the rest of the company.

"Fall in!" the Serzhánt commanded, bringing the formation of soldiers to attention. "Right, FACE!" Every soldier in the formation executed a right face. "Rout Step, MARCH!" The soldiers of Livinko's company began their quiet nighttime march into darkness. The difference between Rout Step and Forward march, is the soldiers must march in step, Left, Right, Left when Forward march is commanded. When rout step is commanded, there is no need to remain in step. Every soldier can walk freely. The terrain dictates the style of march, broken and unruly.

There was something about this Serzhánt who reminded Nikolai of Orlav, so long ago. But that man would be at least 50 years old if he was still alive. He'd forgotten that bastard and his brother Griegor. Nikolai contented himself to thinking about life on that lake. It seemed so long ago. At least fourteen or fifteen years ago, now.

_________________
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I am in Eastern Standard Time zone (GMT -5)
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Attitude | +
"The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude to me is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than success, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, gift, or skill. It will make or break a company...a church...a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past...we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10 percent what happens to me and 90 percent how I react to it. And so it is with you... we are in charge of our attitudes. "
~ Charles Swindoll


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PostPosted: Sun Feb 16, 2014 10:19 pm 
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The march had started exactly as she expected it to go on. Badly. Ysira's feet were calloused and hard from many years of walking as a barefoot slave who did not rate any kind of footwear, but even she was beginning to hurt at the relentless pace of Livinko's march. She did have a horse, a large destrier by the name of Korval, but for this leg of the march she had decided not to ride him, instead leading the warhorse on foot to save his strength for when it was needed. Which was not now.

By the second day, she noted roughly a dozen faces were missing. Likely dropped off on the side of the road to sleep off their hangovers. With any luck they would have had their pockets emptied by now by some enterprising traveller. If there was any justice in the world at least. And she dearly hoped there was, despite her deep disbelief in the human form of it.

Looking over their dismal company, she could only sigh in disappointment. Most were young boys, fresh faced off some farm and still smelling of ****. The rest were old men and retired mercenaries, looking for some quick silver and a bit of excitement to spice up their glory days. Barely a dozen were what she would call fighting fit, and her eye for this kind of thing was acute and well trained. Although to her irritation, she couldn't help but include the 'Red Scorpion' and her little band amongst that number. Along with herself, Livinko, Stan, Hoarmouth and a few others she did not yet know by sight, they made up the hard core of this force of arrow fodder.

Speak of the little firebrand and she would appear, as it seemed. The 'Red Scorpion' herself crossed her line of vision with a face a mile long, looking as if she had something to say. Ysira decided to indulge her hunch in this one.

"You have something to say, Red Scorpion?" She spoke with the same flat, emotionless inflection that had plagued her for quite some time. Not that it particularly bothered her, but still. Her continuation was no less dead.

"Or was it that you just didn't take the time to void yourself this morning?" The last came with a special effort to put just a hint of a mocking tone into her delivery. Some people deserved that extra effort.


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The suggestion of obtaining new armour was intriguing to the White Archer as she rode in on her large Camarillo. Syvatlo was a quaint town full of cobble roads, a usually quiet town was now a busy market full of good from all around the land. Her armour sat awkwardly on her shoulders and was loose against her frame. It was supposed to be a comforting but firm fit. The bow and arrow she had acquired today was hardly correct for her even though it wasn’t a bad weapon in itself. She would definitely have to scout the stalls for a bow an arrow that was more suitable. Surely she could also trade in the armour and other good she had snitched from the pockets of the guards before some of the others could get to them. She should come out of today with some cash, so that was a positive. She wasn’t about to pass up the offer that allowed them a safe and discreet way to get out of the province and stay low for a while, so she would have to be swift and decisive so that she could attend the meeting and be prudent. It was very true that they couldn’t stay in the plains, it was unwise and was also a good way to get some resources and or information from other places.
She didn’t pipe up however she dispersed with the others when Baichu put forward the idea of leaving and rejuvenating their supplies. As she searched the market she traded in things and got all new armour and a new bow and arrow. She saw people from the Patriarchy and made a note to stay away from them except for certain supplies since the Patriarchy is known for it’ armour, but weapons in particular. She did her best to disguise herself and hoped that no one remembered her and reported her to Patriarchy authorities. She wasn’t a normal ‘woman shopper’, she knew what she wanted and was in and out. In the end some of the items she had pocketed were much more valuable then she had expected, by the end of the day she had a very nice amount of money left over that she would defiantly save for a rainy day.
She could hear the rowdy crowd inside the bar as she approached with confident steps in her newly fitted armour and beautifully, wing carved arrow. She had to dip into her profit for the day but it was well worth it. She had bought some new bows as well with the money she used for trading in the old ones. Her new armour was silver with a white phoenix on the breast plate. The smell of alcohol that encased her senses made her cringe. She searched the darkness before she found the group in the bustling pub, The Red Scorpion’s red hair being the big give away. As she stepped into the smelly, nameless, vintage bar she sat down at a rough-hewn oak table with the Red Scorpion near her but not next to her.
She arrived as Livinko gave Baichu, herself and the Red Scorpion roles as cleaners and or cooks. She agreed with the fiery one. “If you think that I am going to simply just cook and clean then you too have another thing coming. I have a bow and arrow for a reason.” She had no reply because of the fiery one’s sheer charisma however she had voiced her opinion and that contented her. Especially since the fiery one had convinced Livinko that us women would be on the battle field.
“Thankyou, for accepting me.” The white haired bomb shell said graciously along with the fiery one. A few people returned to join Katerina in the quest of exiting the plains. She noticed that the Skin Walker was in the tavern but didn’t make eye contact with him. She had noticed that the Khan was in the tavern however she had been in the shadows, and quiet. When the Khan woman stepped on the man’s wrist the White Archer kept the shock off of her face and remained neutral until ‘another ****ing’. It was then that she almost got up and punched Livinko in the face.
She drank the bitter brew but didn’t like it very much. She was used to very strong but smoky alcoholic drinks from the Patriarchy but also had acquired a liking for sour drinks from her time in the desert lands. She didn’t like these people, referring to us as ****ing and stallion ****ing but she let it slide because they needed them to get out of the plains discretely. It was an opportunity they couldn’t afford to mess up.
The plan was solid however it would mean that there’d be no time to rest and that would prove a pain in the ass. However a couple of hours to get ready was better than nothing. She purchased some supplies for a private stash from the markets and then rested herself and her Camarillo, Devere, before they headed out. Once they did the days seemed long and tiresome. For the first day she had ridden on her horse to get a day of rest. After that, on this second day, she was now giving her loyal stallion a well-deserved rest and was therefore forced to walk on her feet that were still calloused and sore from the abuse they had suffered through these past months.
There was a question directed to the Red Scorpion which she found intriguing because the fiery one did actually look as though she had something on her mind however it wasn’t the White Archer’s place to say so or claim. She was not the Red Scorpion and only Katrina knew how she felt. That was an interesting concept really. As she kept on walking through the plains she became so bored, it was always the same scenery for miles. It was especially bland since she had endured it for weeks beforehand when she was trudging along as a person who didn’t belong to them self but to someone else. She was someone else’s property. Now she was free, but the scenery was all the same, at least there was no whipping or chains to hinder her now.


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PostPosted: Fri Feb 28, 2014 7:37 pm 
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"Well, this isn't exactly the most soldierly bunch, is it?" Katerina replied with a wide and encompassing gesture. "Old men and boys, by the look of it. The ones of age are a bunch of licentious drunkards. Face it, dear sister, there's not going to be much in the way of real soldiering. Our purpose is just to soak up punishment from the Bakh armies so that the Count's forces take less of a whipping." She sighed theatrically. "And between you and me, dear sister, I cannot say much for our captain's planning."

The last words had been a risk. She knew that a disciplinarian such as Ysira would be well within her rights to flog her for insubordination. However, an appeal to her pride as a soldier, her professionalism, that could be good. She would much rather have the other woman as an ally than an enemy. If nothing else, it seemed far safer.

The road along the Licur, such as it was, wound through yet another small village. A loose collection of huts, a few storehouses, a smithy. Nothing to be proud of. Small boats and wicker baskets were neatly stacked by short piers along the lazily flowing river, dotted here and there with chunks of ice gradually working their way downstream. In summer, the fishing would be good here. Katerina remembered that much from her homeland. For now, she knew, the villagers would survive on the stockpiles of balyk, the soft white fish meat that had been dried and salted. That jerky, Katerina knew, traveled hard and light, and filled your stomach. Excellent food for soldiers.

"Company, halt!" came the command from the one-eyed captain. The halt was abrupt, some of the untrained and undisciplined bumping into the backs of those in front of them. "Company, rest!" Livinko dismounted from his charger as curious heads began to poke out from doors and peep out windows. Livinko waved over a small boy and asked for the village elder.

Katerina, for her part, gratefully sat down, first unbuckling the saber she had taken from one of Valishin's guards, dead now. It had barely been two days since she had fallen in with these companions. What a busy time it had been since then!


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