Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Dralcos Singol, The Swamp King]

((Thank you Kensii  I do my best to keep realworld battle events and RP'ing action coincided, just wish i had been to Ragnarok this year to find out if I really could beat some of you guys XD ))

Letting arms drop and keeping the tag within view, Dralcos turned briefly to Randern then back to the rangers, "This fellow here is Randern. He was at the meeting from where Timmourne and Rainen had returned from about a month ago. He wanted some tutoring from the rangers but when declined, I offered him a lift and what tutalige I could offer along the way."

Dralcos noticed though they looked calm on the outside, but their heart beats were racing from the falling of night, and the mist wasn't helping. "Your heart's are racing rangers, whatever seems to be the matter? If you fear being out at night, might I suggest you escort us to the village walls . . . soon?" Keeping a confident tone so they might be a little better at controlling their heart rate, as he stepped back up onto the cart getting ready to leave.

[Rainen]

--The village square--
((Nightfall.))

Duncan's men were quickly amongst a grouping of Rangers working to bring in tables and chairs for the weary men. Those who had marched with them stayed with new friends and still joked bawdily. When the preparations were made, platters were put together. Trays filled with brown rice, venison, rabbit, tubers, and leeks- all piled together and steaming hot- were placed on the rough tables. The Ithilienese present swore a swift prayer and began passing out plates. They waited for their guests to take the first bites, waiting silent and patient.

The evening meal was lit around the dimming square with tall torches. Flickering shadows were cast upon the sentries' faces on the walls. They kept ever watchful out into the gloom of Ithilien's Long Night.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--The keep--

The groups were lead down a long, wide corridor in the very heart of the keep. The walls smelled of pine smoke and incense. Every few meters, a bas relief was carved and a brazier stood, casting light across the passage at intervals. Through great oaken doors they came upon a room of sparse furniture and great windows. At the center of the room, a massive desk with a figure hunched over it. The corner of the room was occupied by a great hearth, blazing with orange fire. Around it sat more Rangers, cooking a small evening meal in a boiling pot. They eyed the newcomers grimly and turned back to the hearth. It was getting cold, and the men present could faintly see their breath in the low light. As they approached the desk, the could make out the details of the person at it. He wore the standard Ranger armor and clothing, brigandine and thick gambesons. His hunched position over the sheafs of parchment made his dogtags sway low, close to the top of the desk. The clanked together every so often when he reached for something.

He had semi-long, dark brown -almost black- curly hair, and scraggly sideburns along his chin of the same color. His eyes shone silver in the dim light, catching the gaze of the knight in company. When he looked up from his workings, his hand went quickly to the hilt of a knife stabbed point deep into the desk, and threatened to throw it at the hulking Chaosmen.

"Sorry, gentlemen... Old habits. I am Rainen, son of Timmourne." He put the knife back into the desk, standing vertically straight with several others.

"Please, sit. If the lack of light is bothering you, I can have a grouping of candles lit. I don't need them to see in this darkness..." He motioned to a set of chairs, tall backed and deep, in front of his massive desk. Interlocking his fingers, his features went from slightly ominous to eerily pleasant.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--Dralcos' wagon--

The Ranger woman grimaced.

"Alright, Sergeant. We move inside. Just so you know, though, we'll be keeping an eye on your friend there. He smells... odd to me. Make haste, the Long Night is upon us." She said briskly, motioning towards the slowly closing gates. The Rangers took up positions around their immediate perimeter, keeping an arrow knocked at all times. Their watchful eyes gazed out into the woods, looking for anything... Anything evil. Their steps seemed rushed, and the watchers on the walls waved at them to show that they will wait to close the gate.

[Kensii]

((Night will last for 3 more days in real time. So, morning will officially begin on Monday.))

[Rainen]

((Works for me. Welcome to the Long Night, gents, get ready for some fun... ))

[Aneo Randern]

(I smell funny??   You implying haven't showered)

[Rainen]

((No. The Ranger lass is implying that she has a hunch you're not totally human, and that unnerves Rangers. You mentioned you had a bit of orcish heritage, no?))

[Kensii]

((Keep OOC chatter to the master thread. Thanks! )

[Dragonwalker]

Aodhfin sat and relaxed a bit.

"Apparently your eyesight is failing you a bit, isthasy, or you wouldn't have tried to draw on me. You know well enough that I'm not just any follower of Chaos, nor are others like me. Kossak, for example?"

The Dragonwalker smiled, his teeth glinting in the candlelight, then continued.

"So how goes it? It's been sometime, after all."

[Jack Stewart III]

(The Village Square)
By the time that the tables were assembled, most of the men of the Neigemont had removed their armor and made themselves as presentable as was possible given the situation. They eagerly looked on as a practical feast was lay out before them upon giant trays. Much of the meal was familiar, albeit presented in an unusual manner, though the steaming grain and pale vegitables struck them as being particularly odd. However, there was not one among them that did not eagerly desire to taste their foreign hosts' food. Stephen stood then, feeling that a few words were in order for their new found friends.
"I think it is only proper that we give thanks to Tyr for our new brothers in arms. May he long watch over your lands and people. To the brave men and women of Ithilien!" With that they christened their friendship.
After a deep quaff, the men drew their utensils and ate. They were slow at first, but upon getting a proper taste, they readily consumed their food. One might've questioned what the rangers must've thought upon seeing more than a few drawing multi-tined impliments for stabbing the meat upon their plates...?

(The Keep)
Duncan filed into the room and quickly surveyed his sorroundings. As he turned his attention to the young man at the desk, he noticed that he already had his hand upon a dangerous throwing dagger. By the time the young man had glanced over to the elder, he had half-drawn his own blade. An unspoken message of understanding passed between them and Duncan replaced his knife. Clearly, these men of chaos were trouble and the young lord cared for them even less than himself.
"...I am Rainen, son of Timmourne." The dark haired man introduced himself, returning the knife to its place along with several others, "Please, sit. If the lack of light is bothering you, I can have a grouping of candles lit. I don't need them to see in this darkness..."
Duncan took the initive and spoke as Aodhfin sat...
"I would prefer to stand Master-Rainen." Duncan subtly glanced at the chaosmen, hoping that the young man would understand that he did not trust them either, "Anvard is a long ride, even upon horseback."
Duncan then listened to Aodhfin, as he took several steps forward and placed a hand upon the large, regal looking chair. Clearly, they knew each other. He was indeed interested how the two knew the other, though it was not his place to ask such things...

[Rainen]

((Jack, it is a long night indeed here at Ithilien. What happened to our midnight chats?  ))

--Village square--
The few Rangers present cheered, grinning at the man's words. A group of women from a local tavern had brought out three casks of ale with the help of some Initiates, filling mugs and tankards to the brim to be passed out. Everyone seemed cheery, despite the gnawing apprehension of being outside at night. Soon Ithilienese mingled with the Knights of the Neigemont and the feast was well under way.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rainen glanced up and down Duncan's person for a moment.

"As you wish, Sir Knight. You are welcome in my lands, as I'm sure the Neigemont would do the same for me. Sit or stand at your pleasure, the hearth is also open to you. Don't mind the men there. Once they see your uniform, they'll stop glaring." Rainen winked at that, noticing the knight's subtle hint.

He then turned to his brother in honor," Aodhfin, hurda, too damn long indeed. What brings you to your other home? Surely you didn't just come for our women." Rainen said jokingly, remembering a scene from not too long ago, at one of his Father's holdings to the north.

Just then, a large, shadowy figure stirred in the other corner behind Rainen. The creature's black fur had kept it hidden up until this point, and the men present could hear it's light breathing now.

Oooh. Guests. Rainen-pup, you could've woken me... The Kashan Wolf, Svenrir, Rainen's life-bonded partner, said to everyone present telepathically. The massive Wolf strode slowly to rest behind Rainen, revealing his features. Svenrir stood easily at twelve feet tall, towering over the Ranger in his seat. His great yellow eyes glowed in the dark, much like Rainen's, and seemed to pierce the gloom. He watched the Chaosmen carefully, and simply snorted at Aodhfin playfully. Only when Svenrir looked upon Duncan did he grin a wide, toothy, canine grin.

[Jack Stewart III]

"Gu'ness, a Faolmhor in da flesh? Never did I think myself so fortunate 'a even lay eyes upon a kin of Fenrir, yet 'ere one stands before me..." Duncan stood awestruck before the magnificent creature, his Gaelic accent bleeding through in his excitement, "Praytell mighty beast, doth thou even need jump over these walls? Or does thee merely walk over them?"

((Gaelic translation: Faolmhor. Faol means wolf, Mhor means big, or large. ~ I.e. The Gaelic word for Dire-Wolf.))

[Rainen]

The Wolf's smile widened, daggerlike teeth gleaming in the hearth's light.

I like this one. Give me your name, metal-ring-shell-man. I am Svenrir, but I now not of whom this Fenrir is. The name sounds familiar, I'll give you that... He said only to Rainen and Duncan. Svenrir now rested his head on the left side of the desk, staring intently at the knight.

As for the walls, I'm content to demolish them. Or, if someone is kind enough, go through a door. Walking over them would take much time indeed...

[Dragonwalker]

Aodhfin chuckled at the snatches of the mental exchange that he caught, then pondered his reasoning to be here. In truth, he'd followed the Rangers from the meeting, looking for more information. Information regarding the meeting itself, the one who'd summoned them, and other more....intricate matters.

"Information, isthasy, is what I seek. Information that I'll discuss with you in private later on.....besides, there's much to catch up on. For now though, I'm content to spend some time with you and Sven, and listen to what my Chaos brethren are here for."

He chuckled again, then shot a quick thought to Rainen and Svenrir.

Though I will admit, the women of Ithilien are rather beautiful.

[Kossak]

((Ill post later tonight.  Been sick with food poisoning the past 2 days))

[Jack Stewart III]

((Uhh, dude that sucks...I wish upon you all the power of the god of Bismuth. ))

Duncan laughed in return at Svenrir's wit. "You honor me." Duncan bowed his head to the mighty wolf, "I am Duncan McDeign, humble servant of the House Stewart. Much of my peoples' myth sorrounds Fenrir, he is reputed to be the father of all wulfkind. Be not shocked if they prostrate themselves before you, or bestow upon you gifts of admiration."
Duncan then looked to Aodhfin to assure himself that he was finished with Rainen for the moment.
"Master-Rainen." Duncan briefly placed his hand over his heart and nodded his head, as is the customary greeting to a lord other than your own, "As I said 'afore to your...to Svenrir, I am Duncan McDeign. Milord sent my men and myself ahead of his force, upon arriving, uh, here? Forgive me, I am not accustomed to such travel..." Duncan all but withheld the urge to grimace at the thought of traveling between planes, "The Prince assured me that you were expecting him? Also, that these documents would confirm my identity."
Duncan silently handed Rainen a roll of tight parchment. Upon opening them, the top would be a letter from Jack Stewart himself, assuring Rainen of Duncan's identity. The next would be a document from the Lord's Alliance of Anvard, declaring their intent to assist them. Finally, the last paper was a crudely fashoned map of where Jack and his forces had appeared, and their route. From that it could be assumed that they were very close, if not already within Ithilien...

[Kossak]

Radok smiled, fangs showing, as he watched the ranger go for the knife.  Clanic nodded towards Rainen, "Kossak, Warmaster of the Black Legion, sends us in his stead.  I am Clanic, follower of the Changer...this is Radok the Skull Lord.  Tzeentch has many threads woven together it may seem."

The two Lords examined the others in the room, Radoks eyes falling upon the other follower of Khorne, taking him onto memory.

Each decided to stand until the meeting was started.

[Dragonwalker]

Aodhfin's sat, lounging in the chair and looking bored, but all the while listened intently. The only noticeable change was when his left ear twitched at the mention of Radok being a Skull Lord. So, another of the Blood God, eh? He mused silently, his hand rubbing his chin as he yawned, wondering what exactly Kossak was up to.....he remembered that the two Warmasters were at the meeting before, but didn't recall any of their dealings. Offers, of course, he remembered....something about trading, but these two didn't seem the trading sort. At least, not Radok. Clanic, perhaps, being a follower of Tzeentch, but Radok....well, time would tell.

[Amadeaus Chisantrix]

((Kosack I prey that God will hellp you recover quickly. Rainen I wish I could have lived (you had to shoot me with arrows) so I could meet Svenrir and Duncan))

[Rainen]

((Get better soon, Chaosman. You can't kill me from a bed

Amadeus, if my men hadn't executed you, I would have myself. That verdict is final. You may meet Svenrir when you have improved your game, kay?))

--Da keep, yo--

Rainen turned to Clanic briefly.

"I understand. What does the Warmaster want with me? War, I'm certain?" He grinned, returning the sight of growing fangs at the follower of Tzeentch.

"Please, sit, Chaoslords. We have much to discuss."

Then, he reached across the desk to unravel the papers. He reaed it quickly, not wanting to delay.

"It's good that Jack remembers his friends, Sir McDeign. Please, don't call me 'Master' or even Captain. I don't deserve either titles, and I am no lord whatsoever. I appreciate that you honor me so, but I only find the titles in humor." He smiled, then. Probably the first smile the Knight has seen from an Ithilienese Ranger. It would've seemed kindly, if it were not for Rainen's fans he seemed to grow at night.

Hurda, I know of a tavern with many a fine lass. Or, if you're hunry for somethin other than women, check with the Rangers behind me. I think they're cooking rabbit and leek... He said to Aodhfin in a private mental note

"Drinks, gentlemen?" He asked, pulling a wineskin out from under the desk," and, Sir Knight, I understand that your men are eating, but you are not. This is admirable, but it will not do. Please, get a bowl of the stew, we can discuss thins after you eat." He winked, and motioned with his hand idly for a Ranger to bring bowls of the stuff over, layingthem carefully at the edge of the great desk. One sat steaming for everyone except Rainen and Svenrir.

[Amadeaus Chisantrix]

((Understood.))

[Jack Stewart III]

"Thank you for your generousity, the stew shall suffice." Duncan said carefully taking the bowl, "...Son of Timmourne, Master is merely the title for a nobleman, whom is not yet of age... Is there another you would prefer? Surely I cannot allow myself to run about shouting 'Rainen' all the time. It will not do." Duncan said adamantly, in his land such things are frowned upon...

At the same time, he eyed his stew. He had left his utensils with his men, assuming that he would get his fill once his work was done. He was sure that he would not eat with his fingers, like a commonner, before the noble-friend of his Lord Jack.

[Dragonwalker]

Aodhfin poked the uptight soldier with his elbow, offering him a spoon that he'd in turn been offered by one of the Rangers.

"Lad, you'll have to just deal with calling him Rainen. I don't know where you're from, exactly, but around here, you worry about formalities when you aren't worried about danger."

The Dragonwalker tipped his bowl to his lips, sipping the stew. Delicious....he needed to have a talk with the cook for the recipe. And, if said cook happened to be a lovely woman...well, perhaps more than a recipe. He smirked a little, then spoke again before returning to his stew.

"You're in Ithilien woods, now."

[Kossak]

Clanic sat in the chair offered, though it was a bit small for him, Radok stood behind the sorcerer grimacing.

"There is war coming ranger, Clanic has seen it in his visions.  He doesn't know from where, or when, or how...only that blood will be spilled," Radok spoke finally.  His voice more like that of an animal trying to enunciate than a man.

"Quiet Rado..." Clanic starred but was cut off again.

"I don't know why our glorious Warmaster has chosen to do as he has,  but for some reason he has sent us and a contingent of warriors with a giant to aid You," Radok looked around, a sneer on his face, "all o see here are humans, weak...malnourished from years of war...scared of the dark..."

Clanic snapped up and wheeled on Radok, "You will keep your opinions to yourself and follow the Warmasters commands, Skull Lord." The voice was a grating whisper through clenched teeth.

"The Warmaster has pledged our forces here to assist you, Ranger Rainen.  Where there is war, as you know...we follow,"  Clanic sat back down leaving Radok fuming.

[Jack Stewart III]

Duncan shot an angry glare at the chaosman named Radok. Though he knew that a man of such stature was a significant threat, Duncan's fear was easily supressed, confident in himself more than most men. The fact that this Radok had a strong superior also reinforced his opinion that he could speak.
"We humans are not weak as you might think." Duncan casually reminded the large man, careful not to let his tongue slip, "...Even ants can fell the mighty beast."

[Aneo Randern]

Rainen what is happening to me and Draclos

[Rainen]

((Randern, OOC please. Or in the master thread next time. You and Dralcos are being led into the town. Read back quite a few posts.))

Rainen smirked, as did Svenrir. The smirks quickly turned into great, broad, sharp smiles. Their fangs seemed to mimic each other, though Rainen's teeth were much smaller. They both started to chuckle at the one called Radok, though he was much taller than Rainen. They both stood and continued the odd behavior.

"Us? Weak?"

Surely you jest.

"Have you ever asked..."

Your Warmaster...

"How many of his men..."

The Ithilienese have killed?

The voices were now echoing madly around the room, Svenrir's meeting with Rainen's and vice versa, as if they were one whole. The Rangers around the hearth had stood with their Captain and the Kashan Wolf, keeping tight hands on the hilts of their swords and long knives. Svenrir stood eye to eye with the Chaosman, and he gleamed his fangs in the light purposely.

"Skull Lord Radok, have I not been kind to let you into my home? Whatever your master is planning, it is something unheard of, and very generous indeed. I understand that Ithilien will need all the help it can get if war is to be had on a different front. We already fight the hated Gondorians. We're not as weak as one might think. Did Ithilien not bravely defend itself during the War of the Ring so many generations ago? We won that. I understand war, maybe better than you do. I have known nothing else, whereas you may have been a normal mortal at one point. I was bred for this. Now, if you have objections to aiding us, take it up with your commander. What a game we play in this arena, it's called haul your arse or you'll be eaten." Rainen's very Sylvan stained tongue seemed to tinge with every word, his accent showing through. His voice almost came out in a melancholy sing-song to Duncan and Aodhfin, though Radok probably failed to notice. He was weaving words of pain and truth in one, and it hurt to speak. The Rangers had moved closer now, and some of them had weapons slid out an inch from their sheathes. He never stopped smiling, neither did Svenrir.

((How's my chances at writing scary bits?))

[Kensii]

((I, the GM, have noticed that there are several plotlines in this thread alone. Begin making the collective effort to bring em together if you can. Also, try hard to keep OOC chatter to the master thread. Thanks guys, I like where this is going.))

Also, it is effectively pre-dawn right now. You have all been up all night

[Kossak]

Radoks temper was growing as Rainen walked towards him, "And how many of your rangers souls are now playthings of the Dark Lords?"

"Radok, that is enough.  Rainen, there have been past wars between our kinds, as history shows.  Blood is blood to the followers of Khorne, it doesn't matter who's.  I speak as Councilor to the Warmaster and what Radok says is true.  I have seen visions of war spreading across the entire realm.  Even now the Black Legion gathers in all its might in Be'lakor to prepare," Clanic was trying to defuse the situation as quickly as possible.

Reaching into his robes he pulled out a small letter.  It was dried elven flesh, the chicken scratch handwriting was in blood, probably from the same elf...
Rainen of Ithillien,
There has been war foreseen, one even I, the Warmaster fear may turn sour.  If this realm is to burn, I want to be the one burning it.  Radok and Clanic, two if my generals and Harbingers are there with you along with almost 20 of my finest warriors and my only giant.  Their swords will be invaluable in the end.  When they have finished their duty, Clanic will know.  I look forward to crossing swords with you again...and remember, the Powers still search for You.

Kossak

[Rainen]

--Keep--

Rainen read the note out of the corner of his eye, keepin his face towards the Chaosmen. He let his smile go down to a warm grin, all the while laughing inside his head. When his fellow Rangers approached, they had nearly drawn their weapons when Rainen turned his head to them. All of the lads grimaced for a moment, noticing Rainen's facial features. They sheathed their weapons then, skulking back to the hearth in the room. One stoked the fire and the light was much more amiable now.

"I will not refuse such aid, and I trust that the men he sent are more than adequate warriors of your kind. I'd be honored to have them fight in this war, whatever it may be. Please, Skull Lord, will you not eat in my hall? You are a welcomed guest, and I'd rather not send you lot back to the barracks in disfavor." Rainen said, now facing them. His smile had all but evaporated and now his eyebrows were slanted curiously. He proffered the bowl of stew towards him, holding the wooden spoon between the bowl and his thumb. His left hand fell to the hilt of his saber, fingers picking at the ornate carvings of the hand guard. After a moment, he set it on the arm rest of the chair in which Clanic sat. He then turned to Duncan, smilingonce more.

"My proper RoI ranking is Captain, which is one of many seconds to the Lord Marshall himself. I hate being called by any titles because I do not feel I deserve them. Don't call me Captain, if you will, or Master... Master is a title for merchants and herders. Wealthy, well to do men. Me? I have no marks to my name." He stopped then, takin a draught of watered down wine.

"Tell me, how many come with Sir Jack? Are they all as weathered as you? I'd hopehe brought some stout fighters... Fighting with Ithilien is bad luck." He smirked again, still intertly laughing at the fact that he may be the only one to smile in Ithilien that night, and no one here would know the severity of it.

[Jack Stewart III]

Duncan was shocked that exchange did not result in blood. Something told him that a Faolmhor, or Kashan-Wolf as Rainen had called him, and his bonded, with such similar toothy grins' was not a good thing. To be honest, Duncan was shocked that he had not acted in an unbecoming fashion at the sight. A quick glance down at his bowl revealed another story. He was shaking. It had been years since anything had disturbed him so...
Duncan nearly start as Rainen turned his attention to him.
"If you so insist." Duncan bowed his head slightly, "Then I would ask of you to do the same. In all honesty, I informed my order years ago that I was no longer theirs. I only hold the title because of King John's insistance on it being so." He then sighed, "Their exact numbers I do not know, I doubt that anyone in this campaign would aside from Sir Jack. Though I would guess that not such a single force has been assembled this generation." Duncan then gave a hearty grin as he drew his sword from his back, scabbard and all, "We of the Green Hilted Swords do not get our titles easily. This is the hide of a genuine Orc Chieftan." Duncan gently petted the weathered, old leather.

[Rainen]

Rainen's smirk widened at the sight of the man's shaking hand. Svenrir had done the same, and was now standing beside Rainen, towering over the Knight.

Careful with your weapon, my friend. The round-ears-two-legs by the fire will probably get jumpy if you draw it. Svenrir said in a low tone.

"I see your point, Duncan." He strained not to say 'Sir'. "As for knowing the numbers, it doesn't really matter in the end." He shifted to one leg then, sighing.

"Maccha tell, Jack has spoken of me, has he not? I'm curious as to what he blabbers about. Probably outrageous tales of how he killed more greenskins than I." He chuckled, rememberin that snow covered day quite some time ago. That was when Rainen had just finished training and was deployed to fight the green tide. The snowy slopes of Maethodoron were an unforgiving one...

[Jack Stewart III]

Duncan felt a brief wave of shame as he realized that his hand had been caught shaking. He stopped and thought then, he had not been in such a potential for danger since, well, for a long time... Ironically enough, he feared the young man more than the wulf. He was getting the vibe that something was not quite right with him, though he could not put his finger on it. Mostly since he knew nothing of his past, nor of his bonding to the large beast.
Duncan gently nodded in thanks to Svenrir.
"Jack always has been prideful, thought of himself as better than everyone around himself. Though, he always held himself to the same high standard. Second never was good enough for him. It was always higher, faster, further. Always. From the day we first sparred under my tutelage, he refused to be treated as an anything less than perfect. He even scolded me when I treated him as a child." Duncan laughed reminiscently, "He spoke of you as an equal. Not merely as another sword-arm at his side, but a man whom he would trust at the twilight of the world...High praise from a man who once slaughtered an entire tribe of goblin alone, to 'Reclaim his lost honor'."

[Rainen]

Rainen simply laughed. A good bit, too. He threw his head back and barred his teeth to get the last of his humour out before trying to speak once more. But... to his dissapointment, he couldn't stop chuckling and giggling afterwards.

You'll have to excuse the pup. He's always been a bit off... and it isn't very often he hears of compliments. It's in his belief that he's always been the lesser of any good. Svenrir said, annoyed that Rainen could not summon up words of his own. The young Ranger settled himself in a chair and tok a bowl of stew, gulping at it to stop his giggling. At long last, he opened his mouth to speak normally.

"He honors me unnecessarily. I find it hilarious. Please, take no offense to my laughter. I am a bit... as Svenrir put it, 'off'. That is, only in the late hours. I'll saddle up my brain in the morning, when I can be serious. Just ask Aodhfin here. Or my father. Or my mother. Or even my lass back home..." His vice trailed off, suddenly losing his focus to thought.

[Jack Stewart III]

"Of that I plan on discovering." This time Duncan smiled, though at what was not obvoius, "Milord tries too hard to be a beacon of strength to others. I think he sees a little of himself in you..." Duncan chuckled, looking Rainen over, before turning to Svenrir, "It must be a small piece, Jack hasn't been that small since he was ten! How do you manage not to loose him as you ride, Svenrir? Does he come with a leash? Maybe that's it, he wishes he could ride a wulf..."

[Rainen]

Svenrir's throat rumbled a low, canine mock up of laughter.

Yes, he comes with a leash. Although, I wonder at times how he stays on without it. Must be his stubborness showing.

Rainen came out of his reverie then, hearing his Wolf's voice inside his head. He looked up at Duncan with glassy, silver-glowing eyes.

"...Strong legs, mate. That, and the occasional saddle..." Then he got the jab at his frame," Heh, scary surprises come in small bundles, my friend. But, I digress, I am hellishly small in stature. All of the other officers are taller and weigh a good cartload more than I do..." His voice was tinged with quiet anger. At what, none could be certain. Though he was wearing his brigandine, Duncan seemed capable enough to guess his build dead on. The tunics, vests, and gambeson under it could hardly hide someone so skinny under such experienced eyes.

[Jack Stewart III]

"God knows that's true..." Duncan's voice became solumn and quiet, fading to nothing. Then an aburpt and almost akward laugh, gave way to a smile almost as disturbing as Rainen's, for it was as empty as any man's could be. With a the faux smile steadily fading to nothing, Duncan changed the subject, "Forgive my rudeness, it was the lack of sleep talking. I'm sure a few years and you'll be a fine swordsmen. You're what, sixteen? Pray tell, you're not seventeen...?"

[Rainen]

He looked at the man before him, smiling as eerily as he was, and slanted his brows inward.

"I'm fifteen, mate. As for my skill with a sword... you probably won't be surprised. I'm terrible and always will be." He then tapped the hilt of his saber, making Svenrir grin.

"I mean... I've only been usin' this here oversized skinning knife for what... seven years? Yeah, sounds about right. Heh... Jack met me when I was thirteen, and fresh out of officer training. I haven't improved since..." Rainen chuckled. He motioned for the man to sit in the chair across from him, worried that he might be tired. Tt'd be terrible for a Knight to keel over from exhaustion.

[Jack Stewart III]

((He's been sitting for a while mate. He can go a long while without sleep, don't you worry either!))

"Fifteen!" Duncan exclaimed, "Goodness they get you started young! What've you got to aim for? Felling every kingdom within a hundred leagues!?" Duncan then shook his head, "But an officer, fifteen or no, and not good with a blade? That won't do! Soon as the sun rises, I'll see to that!"

[Rainen]

"Aye. Heh, I have much expected of me from my father... I started at the age of eight. I'm actually six years ahead of having this rank. The RoI demands eight years of service to become a Captain. Again, my father had other ideas. In any case, sparring tomorrow? Sounds like a plan. Be wary of the rising sun, though, my friend. In Ithilien, the Red Sun means blood has been spilled that night. Many Rangers are superstitious of it, and upon seein it, may act rashly in paranoia."

It is late. I am tired. I suggest you two retire to your assigned quarters. Svenrir said to Clanic and Radok, eyeing them cautiously.

"I offer you a room in the keep, my good sir. The beds are tall and warm, and there are many lonely women about to share it with you. Few in Ithilien lik to sleep alone."

For you, hurda, I already have a room prepared. Just follow these directions... Rainen gave Aodhfin an imae of a long corridor, with red tapestries, leading to a heavy door. Two rights and a left from the main hall.

[Jack Stewart III]

"I must pass." Duncan smiled before withdrawing a silver ring on a fine chain around his neck that was well concealed beforehand. He appeared displeased, dispite his attempts to hide the fact. The ring then promptly disappeared from whence it came, "Anyways, it is tradition for commanders to camp with their men. We too are superstitious."

[Dragonwalker]

Aodhfin finished his stew quietly, turning over everyone's words multiple times in his head. He'd no idea that Rainen and Jack knew each other. What bothered him more than anything, however, was the talk of war from Clanic. Something big enough that Kossak was worried about it? Sure enough, the Warmaster wanted Rainen on his side, and to burn everything to ash. But to be worried about a war, as if it would finish the job before he could? The thought was troubling indeed. The Dragonwalker stood and stretched, bowl still in hand, and yawned.

"I think I'll go find my room, lads. It's been a long time since I slept on anything besides the ground. We can discuss things further when the sun is high."

He left the bowl in his seat, then walked towards the door.

[Kensii]

The light of day shone through the window and eventually hit Grimmer's face. He stirred a little and tossed around before finally getting up.

((Gotta go now, will edit it later. Point is, its morning.))

[Aneo Randern]

Randern gets up and looks out the window of the inn he and Draclos were escorted too the previous night.   Randern, then walked to his gear and got ready for the day, being sure to strap on his sword and hunting knife along with his armor.  He then attached the case he put his book in onto his belt, made sure his amulet (see the voyage for details) was around his neck.  Then he donned his hooded cloak and gloves, and attempted to wake Draclos up. 

[Dralcos Singol, The Swamp King]

Randern begins speaking to Dralcos attempting to rouse him, but to no avail, so he tries to shake him. Dralcos wakes with a start and pins Randern to the opposing wall with his root arm extension and knocking the wind from Randern. Once Dralcos found he was awake, "Oh . . . " releasing the winded Randern, "I'm sorry about that Randern, I must've forgotten in our travels to mention that I don't wake well at Inn's. People have kidnapped me before and I have never wished to repeat the incident."

Standing now and returning his arm to human once more, and straightening his clothes, Dralcos motions towards the door, "Now let's go see if we can't go find some familiar faces, shall we?"

[Aneo Randern]

Randern taking a minute to regain his composure and to make sure his hood stayed in place looked back to Draclos "Yeah! You forgot to mention that!" this said witha bit of sarcasm followed by "Sounds good lets go"

Randern follows out of the Inn the states "Oh yeah, could we grab a bit to eat also"

[Kossak]

Clanic stood, standing next to Radok. 

"We too shall retire, if you do not mind Captain, we will ask our other warriors join us in the barracks assigned to us...we only ask for a large enough empty space to allow Gragnar the giant to sleep," Clanic's words carries across the hall.

Radok nodded to the gathered masses, "It would be best if most people didn't try to mess with Gragnar, we keep him hungry to keep him ready for battle."

[Rainen]

--The keep (Prelude to dawn)--

"The cloister inside the barracks should be large enough. And do not worry, none shall dare stir a giant in Ithilien. Good night, Chaoslords." Rainen's voice was slightly irritated at hearing his rank from them. He motioned to the door in farewell.

Rainen sighed as his company retired to their quarters and men, respectively. He sorely wished he was back home in Tiavhan Hold, that way he could sleep restfully. He dismissed the Rangers inside for different shifts and rest, and walked with Svenrir down the main corridor. Upon coming to an already open door, larger than most, they sidled in and found a pile of furs and rushes lining one side of the great room. It was a Kashan den, built inside the keep for visiting riders. After undoing his armor, gear, and saber, Rainen curled up inside Svenrir's mass of fur and tried to get some sleep.

Though the Wolf snored and slept deeply, the rider was left struggling in nightmare. Just another night in Ithilien for him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
--Village square (dawn)--

As the sun rose in the east, many Rangers on the walls saluted the risin sun. to their relief, it came as golden streaks of yellow- and not bloody marks of red. The watch shifts changed and men and women were quietly out and about preparin for the usual day. Border towns were busy places, and food needed to be made, hides to be tanned, goods to be traded, and weapons to be forged. The sweet scent of bread baking wafted through the village square, tickling the noses of the Knights who slept there. The sound of forges hammers could be heard in the distance of town, interminlin with the sons of birds. All seemed peaceful at dawn, and there was hardly a trace of the horror of night left.

[Jack Stewart III]

((I'm 'sumin that the knights lodged in the inn.))
Duncan did not wake with the sun, no large surprise after riding all day and staying awake all night. But the smell of fresh bread wafting through his room shortly after dawn did the trick. He was used to long days and short nights, tracking all manner of man and beast through the thick forests of the southern Neigemont, where sleep rarely came easy, if at all. Getting up was usually little more than a routine for him, however truth be told, he was quite fond of the trappings of civilization. Few things could rouse him like warm cider, fresh bread and a proper meal. Which got him wondering; Just what does brekfast in Ithilien consist of?
Fully armored and ready to command, Duncan strided out into the hall. To no great surprise, none of the knights were up. He could only sigh. Unluckily for them, he knew what rooms they were lodged in. Each and every one were woken when he strode into the first room, silently as a woodsmen would be expected, and got right in the ear of the Knight-Commander...
"Orcs!" He shouted as loudly as he could.
The hapless man jumped with a start, right out of the bed and onto the floor with a mighty thump! In haste, the knight stabbed out at the blanket that obscured his sight and cut a sizable hole through it. Duncan laughed as it slid around the man's torso, to which he looked up.
"Congratulations Stephen, you just bagged yourself a mighty tough blanket. Its a big one too!" Duncan still couldn't help but chuckling as he sauntered out, "Get a move on."

[Kossak]

With the coming of the dawn Clanic and Radok went out to find their warriors camp.  The commotion of the angry giant made it fairly easy.

"Break camp, they have a barracks ready for us inside," Radok ordered in the Dark Tongue.  Grumbling and growling followed as they tore down their camp as quickly as possible and followed the 2 generals.  The entire time the handlers struggled with the giants bonds.

They approached the gate cautiously, amused slightly at the looks upon the rangers faces as the disgusting creature closed in on the encampment.

"What shall we use for sacrifices while we stay here?" One of the warriors asked.

"We shall make do as we can," Clanic answered.

"I want to find the other of our kind, he may know something if he is here," Radok said as he split off from the group.

"Stay your blade Skull Lord, we needn't destroy these arrangements.  In the mean time ill find out if they have any prisoners they do not need and we can use," Clanic bowed slightly as he led the others passed horrified onlookers to the barracks.  Children screaming and running for cover or cowering in their mothers robes.

[Zane, son of Timmourne]

Zane woke with a yawn, sitting up from the bench he was on. The rangers around him, still wide eyed and awake, gave him a quick glance. He rubbed the back of his neck. He had slept through the night on a tavern bench. I have to stop eating so many dumplings. . .

Yelling to the barkeep, Zane said, "How 'bout some food for these loyal Rangers? They look like they could use a hot meal. . ."

With his usual grin encompassing his face, he thanked the woman who brought a tray of eggs 'n' potatoes, thick slabs of venison drenched in a thick gravy, and tankards of watered-down mead.

After joining the Rangers in their meal, Zane sets out for the keep, looking for his Brother, Rainen.