A sigh hissed through Sid's teeth as she glared up at a large board posted several feet above her head. She was inside the tavern, the Boulon brother's Inn, and glared up at the local recruitment board hanging on the wall. It was a glorified slab of dark wood with barely any quests--besides killing a few large rats in a corn field--and even fewer posts requesting aid. In her hand Sid was holding a rolled up sheet of paper about as tall as she was. It was an immediate recruitment letter requesting any non-local military or martial forces for aid in the mission tommorow. The pay was shit, as were the terms, but it would sate the appetites of any would-be adventurers and score some cheap assistance for the Legion.
Sadly, when the recruitment boards were instituted the height of halflings had not been taken into consideration. One look at the large spaceous inn interior would tell anyone that there was not a seat to be found, and therefore no chairs for the dark haired halfling to stand upon. Not that she would dignify any of the tall-folk with the sight of a halfling's only weakness...
"Need a lift?" Suddenly Sid was up in the air, hoisted onto broad shoulders by a pair of arms as thick around as her chest. She looked down upon a the toothy grin of an orc. One of the new legionnaires, Thanaros.
Sid returned the greenskin's smile with one of her own and patted his head of matted black hair. "Much oblidged, Thanny-boy." With her newfound position Sid unfurled her parchment and stuck it to the board. It adhered and spread out of it's own accord, having been enchanted. In seconds the blank paper was etched with ink that read in clear, bold letters;
Sid smirked at the goofy looking add and patted the young orc holding her on the shoulder. "My thanks. Hm...you're pretty hot for an orc. Human mother?"
Thanaros colored slightly and rubbed the back of his head gingerly. At length, he said; "Human father. But i'm still as strong as Ferka and Junte! By the Nine Circles, i'm stronger!" Sid patted the riled up orc's leg and shot him a beaming smile. This seemed to calm Thanaros down. That settled, the halfling proceeded to talk his ear off about the inequalities and biases that the tall-folk unwittingly subjected halflings to over a few tall mugs of frothy ale. Which soon became seven. Then twelve...around there they lost count, and somewhere along the line the lamian legionnaire Iriana and the harpy Sura had joined in. By that time it was nearing midnight, and despite the fun she was having Sid ordered them to bed. It wouldn't do to have hung over soldiers...although the march would help to sober them up.
After a wave of protests Sid was back in the room she shaired with Wrath. He was hunched over a desk scribbling onto the thin parchment of a notebook. Writing songs for the upcoming battle, she supposed. The thought did not last long before the halfling was sprawled out on the bed snoring.
Wrath smiled for a moment and returned to his writing. What rhymes with orange? Forage? Cow range? Phalanges?
Back down in the bar room, almost completely sober the handsome orc Thanaros prodded his beer with a bored expression. He noticed a woman half-concealed and looked directly at her. He had thought she was merely armored earlier in the night, but for the first time he noticed that the edges of the dark 'metal' were grafted to her flesh. "A nightmarian..." he mumbled under his breath. Even when the world was more densely populated, nightmarians had easily been the scarcest race outside of their secretive homeland. If they had elected to devote the full force of their armies to the war effort the Primah would have wiped out the Civee in a matter of months...each platoon holding troops that were magically-resistant tanks in most cases...
"You should sign up for the mission!" the words came unbidden, and Thanaros's hand shot up to point at the board across the room. Immediately he regretted it though, blushing and scratching his cropped black hair. "S-sorry lady. It's just that soldiers are always needed and...excuse me." Having thoroughly embarassed himself Thanaros bulled through the crowd and up to his room. Tommorow's mission was his first, and would require rest anyway. The march would come soon enough.
"Damnit, Captain Yan'vega we can't keep this u--" An arrow planted itself between the speaker's eyes sending him sprawling onto the ground. The second in command Yari went down and Gerrit stepped up, the burly human hefting his crossbow to return fire at the white-robed warriors hot on their heels. The legion had been trying to retreat through the forest for hours now only to be cut off at every turn by the children. Their captain, Mercy, had chosen to divide the force into two parts for a better chance at escaping, as the captain herself rushed off on her own. Gerrit's unit was down to three men excluding himself and dwindling fast. Their cleric was half-blinded by a bandaged eye and the orc of the two warriors had his leg twisted at an awkward angle. Each nodded at their new commander with solemn expressions, knowing that his new rank would be short lived.
"Come on, we have to keep moving--" An arc of electricity reduced the trio of legionnaires to convulsing heaps of scorched flesh. Gerrit lifted his sword into a high guard position and furrowed his brow in confusion and consternation. That had been lightning. The Children only spat fire...that was...
A pair of figures robed in red with white designs depicting dancing fire appeared out of thin air in front of the lone legionnaire. Gerrit was too afraid to attack. In seconds a half dozen white-robed Children walked out of the woodwork to join the red newcomers. The foremost of the latter raised their hand, an orb of viscous emerald liquid materializing just in front of it. Gerrit's eyes widened in understanding. But that didn't make any sense...the Children of Fire did not have any magi. That was the last thought the soldier had before being eaten alive by the corrosive acid orb spell.
Sadly, when the recruitment boards were instituted the height of halflings had not been taken into consideration. One look at the large spaceous inn interior would tell anyone that there was not a seat to be found, and therefore no chairs for the dark haired halfling to stand upon. Not that she would dignify any of the tall-folk with the sight of a halfling's only weakness...
"Need a lift?" Suddenly Sid was up in the air, hoisted onto broad shoulders by a pair of arms as thick around as her chest. She looked down upon a the toothy grin of an orc. One of the new legionnaires, Thanaros.
Sid returned the greenskin's smile with one of her own and patted his head of matted black hair. "Much oblidged, Thanny-boy." With her newfound position Sid unfurled her parchment and stuck it to the board. It adhered and spread out of it's own accord, having been enchanted. In seconds the blank paper was etched with ink that read in clear, bold letters;
The Legion of Ashes Wants You!
IMMEDIATE RECRUITMENT REQUIRED! NO LOCALS! Must have past military or combat experience. 10 silver per day(NON-NEGOTIABLE) and you must provide your own travelling gear and equipment. Food and drink will be provided. Report to room 15 and request to speak to Captain if interested. FIGHT FOR NORR!
IMMEDIATE RECRUITMENT REQUIRED! NO LOCALS! Must have past military or combat experience. 10 silver per day(NON-NEGOTIABLE) and you must provide your own travelling gear and equipment. Food and drink will be provided. Report to room 15 and request to speak to Captain if interested. FIGHT FOR NORR!
Sid smirked at the goofy looking add and patted the young orc holding her on the shoulder. "My thanks. Hm...you're pretty hot for an orc. Human mother?"
Thanaros colored slightly and rubbed the back of his head gingerly. At length, he said; "Human father. But i'm still as strong as Ferka and Junte! By the Nine Circles, i'm stronger!" Sid patted the riled up orc's leg and shot him a beaming smile. This seemed to calm Thanaros down. That settled, the halfling proceeded to talk his ear off about the inequalities and biases that the tall-folk unwittingly subjected halflings to over a few tall mugs of frothy ale. Which soon became seven. Then twelve...around there they lost count, and somewhere along the line the lamian legionnaire Iriana and the harpy Sura had joined in. By that time it was nearing midnight, and despite the fun she was having Sid ordered them to bed. It wouldn't do to have hung over soldiers...although the march would help to sober them up.
After a wave of protests Sid was back in the room she shaired with Wrath. He was hunched over a desk scribbling onto the thin parchment of a notebook. Writing songs for the upcoming battle, she supposed. The thought did not last long before the halfling was sprawled out on the bed snoring.
Wrath smiled for a moment and returned to his writing. What rhymes with orange? Forage? Cow range? Phalanges?
Back down in the bar room, almost completely sober the handsome orc Thanaros prodded his beer with a bored expression. He noticed a woman half-concealed and looked directly at her. He had thought she was merely armored earlier in the night, but for the first time he noticed that the edges of the dark 'metal' were grafted to her flesh. "A nightmarian..." he mumbled under his breath. Even when the world was more densely populated, nightmarians had easily been the scarcest race outside of their secretive homeland. If they had elected to devote the full force of their armies to the war effort the Primah would have wiped out the Civee in a matter of months...each platoon holding troops that were magically-resistant tanks in most cases...
"You should sign up for the mission!" the words came unbidden, and Thanaros's hand shot up to point at the board across the room. Immediately he regretted it though, blushing and scratching his cropped black hair. "S-sorry lady. It's just that soldiers are always needed and...excuse me." Having thoroughly embarassed himself Thanaros bulled through the crowd and up to his room. Tommorow's mission was his first, and would require rest anyway. The march would come soon enough.
"Damnit, Captain Yan'vega we can't keep this u--" An arrow planted itself between the speaker's eyes sending him sprawling onto the ground. The second in command Yari went down and Gerrit stepped up, the burly human hefting his crossbow to return fire at the white-robed warriors hot on their heels. The legion had been trying to retreat through the forest for hours now only to be cut off at every turn by the children. Their captain, Mercy, had chosen to divide the force into two parts for a better chance at escaping, as the captain herself rushed off on her own. Gerrit's unit was down to three men excluding himself and dwindling fast. Their cleric was half-blinded by a bandaged eye and the orc of the two warriors had his leg twisted at an awkward angle. Each nodded at their new commander with solemn expressions, knowing that his new rank would be short lived.
"Come on, we have to keep moving--" An arc of electricity reduced the trio of legionnaires to convulsing heaps of scorched flesh. Gerrit lifted his sword into a high guard position and furrowed his brow in confusion and consternation. That had been lightning. The Children only spat fire...that was...
A pair of figures robed in red with white designs depicting dancing fire appeared out of thin air in front of the lone legionnaire. Gerrit was too afraid to attack. In seconds a half dozen white-robed Children walked out of the woodwork to join the red newcomers. The foremost of the latter raised their hand, an orb of viscous emerald liquid materializing just in front of it. Gerrit's eyes widened in understanding. But that didn't make any sense...the Children of Fire did not have any magi. That was the last thought the soldier had before being eaten alive by the corrosive acid orb spell.