(OOC / Additional Info: roleplay/the-black-crusades/ )



The towering castle, named Estengar by peasants and merchants fleeing the opposite direction, was an imposing and solitary monument on the mountain line. From the highest peaks of the structure, where Lord Aisale, formally second in command but now overlooking the defensive operations throughout this fortress, and the whole chain on a larger scale. Even from a distance, travelers could see the movement of trebuchets and catapults. The closer one got, the more obvious that Estengar was set up to repel any attack. Or at least, that is what many within her walls and towers hoped. Blacksmiths worked every hour in the day to forge new weapons and armor, while quartermasters took these arms and armors and distributed them to the most outdated and underarmed groups as they arrived. Full war production was in the works, and it was attracting every sort of mercenary, soldier, and anyone else who had reason to thrive in such a setting. Soldiers, both mundane and arcane, settled in camps behind and within the fortress, looking down on to the primary wall, and the camp fires of their enemy beyond that, preparing to defend and retaliate. Some would think it was folly to try and strike against this kind of place, even if there were but half of the men and women waiting as their were.

Yet it was the only real way into the land of Peranor that was viable for a siege operation, so this is where Delcar had chosen to amass her forces. Far enough away from the first wall to avoid any attacks, but being left unable to begin initial siege assaults, armies settled in and prepared themselves. Dozens of towers were scattered amongst the too numerous to count campfires. Almost undetectable flames bobbed between the campfires, torches held by preachers, spitting out various prayers and zealous brimstone ridden sermons at whomever was, in many cases, unfortunate enough to be within earshot of the men, and otherwise officers were talking about battle plans. A massive tent near the far back housed the leadership of this massed invasion army, where plans were drawn up, redrawn, discarded, and reclaimed as final preparations were made for the marching orders. Even now, men trickled in to bolster already large amounts of forces. The Warlord, as Peranor knew him, presided over the invasion overall. The sole consoling factor was that this Enlightened was too intelligent to personally commit himself to fighting yet, so Peranor war plans didn't have to be as ready to account for him right away.

It was this scene that greeted a small band of mercenary magi, one of which had a long black sword resting on his shoulder. Ishmael Ergar looked at the fortress of Estengar, smirked before resuming his walk, the rest of the band having not slowed down much to give him a chance to catch up. He took several long strides to catch up with the rear of the band, just in time to hit the final stretch of road leading up to the rear gate of the. The two gatekeepers stepped forward, and quick words were exchanged between several men at the front of the band, and the guards. After a moment or two, the guards waved up towards the top of the gate, and a slow groaning echoed out as the gate swung open. The band entered, and the gate closed behind them all. Ishmael walked over to one of the senior of the band, and nodded a greeting. "We part ways here, as we agreed before. Keep your heads on straight, hear me?" That got some chuckles and replies, and the band went for the nearest tavern. Ishmael, on the other hand, took a determined walk towards the higher sections of the fortress. He was going to find his work, and a poster on a tavern wall caught his attention. It called for able bodied men and women to report to the Guard Barracks, right at the Estengar keep.

Ishmael chuckled as he read some of the conditions. No next of kin get claims on pay, nor do fellow mercenaries in the work. He took note of the street he was on, and took off at a determined stride to reach the keep. Sooner he found himself some work, the sooner pay, lodging, and other necessities were taken care of. Even at this pace, it was a good half an hour to reach the gatehouse to the keep, where a guard barred his path. "State your business."

"Saw your flyer about mercs to report at the barracks." The guard didn't move from in front of the open gate, instead crossing his arms and giving Ishmael an unimpressed look. "Uh huh. You'll wait here until more mercenaries show up. Don't need you getting underfoot of real soldiers."

That didn't sit well with Ishmael, though he just chuckled and shook his head. "Flyer said meet in the barracks friend, not sit outside and argue with some two bit guard who can't get any real work done, so he's stuck taking out frustration on those who came to fight." This just led to arguing between the two, being rather oblivious to anyone else that showed up until someone bothered to interrupt the argument in some way, shape, or form.

Clang! clang!

The training grounds in Estengar were empty, devoid of life with dummies standing by themselves in various locations around the ring. Their damgaed bodies sometimes gave them a lonely, solemn look, as if some had their head bowed in remorse. Many straw-filled archery bullseyes sat in rows on the far side of the ring, their centers barely recognizable due to the pincushion of arrows that had been shot in and pulled out over the years. A creak of a door and a cloaked man runs inside through the entrance, turning around to look outside and then quickly shutting the doors. He reached into his coinpurse, the tinkle of metal passing through fingers made louder in the silence, as he hurriedly makes his way to the doors to another ring. He raps on the door and a small strip of metal slides away to reveal two large brown eyes staring back at him. Behind the eyes he could hear various cheers and groans of what sounded like a good sized group of people and the clashing of metal.

"Yeah?" the eyes said in a gruff voice.

The man held up his coin filled hand. "I'm here to compete."

The eyes looked him up and down quickly and with an arch of an eyebrow the panel slid shut and the lock and bolt were taken off. The door opened outward swiftly, almost slapping the man backward had it not been for a quick sidestep, and in the doorway stood an imposing figure. The man was rather large, easily over six and a half feet tall with a bald head, a bushy brown beard and thick corded muscles that ran the length of his outstretched arm and hand. The cloaked man dropped his coins into the great man's hands, getting a precutionary bite to make sure they were real, and was allowed passage into the room. As soon as he cleared the threshold the man slammed the door shut behind him, pocketing the coins and turning his back to the door, folding his arms across his chest.

Now inside, the man removed his black cloak. He stood over six feet tall with long brown hair, piercing blue eyes and the blackness of stubble covering his cheeks and chin. His shoulder were broad, made larger by the worn silver pauldrons he wore, and his build was that of a battle hardened warrior. He wore a brown leather jacket, open in the front revealing a red tunic underneathe and a white undershirt. Upon closer inspection one would notice the impression of the links of a chain vest beneathe the white cloth. On his legs were the same brown leather leggings with black boots on each foot. Two belts crisscrossed his chest, holding a large sword to his back as well as a large, round, black shield. His mouth was turned up in a smirk as he surveyed the arena.

Men were gathered in the center of the room, making a large open ring in the center. Two men clashed weapons in the ring, the crowd cheering for their respective combatant. The two men fought ferociously, one with a rather worn claymore and the other with a shield and what looked like a blacksmith's hammer. The sound of someone clearing their throat behind the man got his attention.

"Name," he said, holding a piece of parchment and a wooden writing utensil.

"Sepheran," the man said.

The list maker nodded and scribbled something on the paper and walked into the sea of people, disappearing amongst them. Sepheran smiled and rolled his neck.

Tonight should be fun.

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A few hours later people poured out of the door to the training grounds, some held up on the shoulders of friends, others staggering about with the tell tale swagger of the inebriated. One of the last to exit was Sepheran, a smirk on his face as several commoners slapped him on the back in passing and offered him small congratulations. The big door keeper shut the door behind him and locked it with a large iron key before turning around and throwing a plump coinpurse at Sepheran. Sepheran caught it in his left hand, the weight a little more than he'd anticipated, and tied it to his belt. He nodded to the doorman, and he likewise, as they parted ways and wandered off into the city.

Sepheran smiled and jingled the coins in the sack as he walked. That was a good work out. Time to hit the tavern and see if anything fun's been posted.

Standing at the edge of a large cliff set on one of the borders of Zeelalor, a lone figure clasped a set of leather reins gently in one hand as she extended her gaze over the death-touched lands. From afar, she seemed lost. A young human woman with no visible weapons except for what many might consider to be a walking stick slung across her back and a horse by her side laden with more provisions than armaments. She might appear to be a traveling merchant or perhaps someone crossing the lands to visit a relative but if they were to step closer to her they might notice her well-worn traveling cloak and sturdy yet pliable leather boots. She was quite familiar with most lands, having traveled quite extensively over the course of her lifetime but this Province was one she had never dared visit. The land itself was pockmarked with decay and its very essence seemed to be tinged with death. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to turn on her heel and run in the other direction but that would be cowardly. Fate itself, by way of the Goddess Tyeroa, had extended its hand to lead her to this precipice and for the first time in her life she felt...

Ill at ease.

This land, Zeelalor, was the residence of things far darker than anything she had dealt with before. Would her powers actually do any good when surrounded by so much darkness and destruction? Especially when there was a gathering of forces that would add to the chaotic energy? She doubted it but she had to try. If her mother had instilled anything within Selene, it was the compulsion to help others. The young woman exhaled a shuddering breath and ran her hand over the neck of her steed though one would wonder if it was to calm herself or the animal. "Come, Keirstrider. Let us see what awaits us in the Land of Necromancers, hmm?" A gentle smile played at the corners of her lips as she began her way down the narrow path that connected with the main road leading to Estengar.

Time passed and within hours of setting foot inside of the Keep's walls, Selene found herself administering aid to some of the men in the tavern. They were soldiers and mercenaries hurt on the journey and once word had spread as to her whereabouts, a few peasants had dropped by as well. She neither wanted nor needed their coin, unlike many of the other practitioners so she mended everything from lacerations and concussions to a child's illness and the incessant coughing of a merchant's wife. Her energy slowly began to wane and she finally decided to excuse herself but even before she could fully stand, a man clasped her wrist.

"Miss? Ma'am?" A male voice sounded out to her side, causing her to turn her head to fully face its source.

"May I help you?" Her tone was pleasant even though she had been irked by the intrusion and her gaze quickly assessed the man. Short, stocky. Not a mercenary or soldier but perhaps some sort of peasant dressed in raggedy armor that had come to help assist during the battle? He had a sword sheathed at his hip and a lopsided helmet perched over his curly mop of hair.

The peasant quickly released her wrist, looking abashed before finally replying, "Ah. Y'see..." He pointed once towards the wall, a gesture which she followed until she saw the object he was referring to- a piece of parchment nailed upon the wall. "...They tol' me to keep my eye out for a healer, they did. Told me to direc' you to the Barracks if I saw one that looked like he....she knew what she was doin'." Without any further information, the man nodded his head towards her then gave a slight bow and ran back through the crowd, passing through the door before she could react. Her curiosity had been piqued enough that she turned to the notice and read over the summons, a bemused smile crossing her features once she was finished.

"Able bodied, hmm?" She murmured to herself as she gathered her things and exited the tavern. "I wonder what in the world they would need with a healer..." Selene used her staff as a walking stick as she made her way through the busy streets, seeking the address that had been mentioned on the flyer. When she finally came to the right area, she saw two men arguing with one another so that neither really noticed her approach until she was right beside them. The guard looked startled for a moment, his speech stuttering a bit as a flash of surprise traced through his gaze and she decided to use this to her advantage. "Well? Are you going to let him in or not? I've been waiting for hours for someone else to respond to the summons and you're going to make him wait out here?" Her brow arched inquisitively then she sighed in the direction of the guard and marched passed him so that she was right in front of the door, awaiting entry. Whether it had been her tone that motivated him or her slight alteration of the truth, the guard shot another look at the man with the black sword before turning to open the way into the barracks for the both of them. A mumbled apology sprang from his lips and he bowed slightly at the waist as she nodded her thanks and then proceeded inside.

Lord Aisale presided over the small room of advisers and company leaders. There were, including Aisale, only four men and one woman present in the briefing. Two of the men were mercenary representatives, all the mercenaries and small bands having elected for those two to represent their forces. These two, Ascarl and Jung, were both ragged and had patched together armor and a honest, but rough, way of speaking, not standing on ceremony or tradition. The third man, in polished ceremonial armor with matching short blade, was Delino. He was the honor guard captain and all around personal boot licker of Aisale. The woman was in robes, with a simple piece of breastplate over her torso. She headed the battle mages loaned to Zeelalor, as well as organizing the placement of the various magical talents within the Peranor defenses. Magus Aurelia was also the most often ignored by Lord Aisale and Captain Delino, but often had the backing of Ascarl and Jung. She was in a heated argument with Aisale, whom had time and again tried to dismiss her from the briefings, but thanks to Ascarl and Jung, always knew when and where they would be.

"Lord Aisale, I have chosen to ignore your attempts to cut me out of your battle plans time and again, but blatantly ignoring my instructions that only affect my troops is going too far! The Archmage, Council, nor Ethea as a whole would react well of such news." She had laid both hands on the large table, resting them on documents and letters that stated that, in his infinite wisdom, Aisale was instructing the magi to be focused within the keep rather than along the first and secondary walls. She had not passed these orders on, obviously, which Aisale saw as a treasonous action, and therefor saw every right to be dismissive of the woman. Jung and Ascarl exchanged a glance while Aisale and Delino discussed quietly between each other. At this rate, Delcar would prove victorious just by waiting. Aisale coughed and gathered everyone's attention again.

"Your concerns are noted Magus, but so too is your insubordination. I want the mages in reserve for when our enemies breach the initial defenses. Not scattered about like seeds on the wind, left to spit into the gale, to no effect might I add. Captain Delino agrees with me on this, and I dare say two veteran minds in defending these walls trump your untested opinion." Aisale had leaned forward, resting one hand on top of the other and bracing on his elbows, lowering himself eye level with Aurelia. Jung quietly coughed and stepped forward, Ascarl right by his side, both men had arms crossed and a look of annoyance on their faces.

"Lord Aisale, while you and your Captain's opinion carry some weight, both me and Ascarl are in agreement with the Magus. She has commanded her mage legions before, as you should be aware, when your defenses failed to stop a war party several years ago. Considering both me and Ascarl are veterans as well, it is now our opinion that trumps yours, Lord." It was a calculated risk from a safe position. Ascarl and Jung could, at a word, cause every single mercenary, except for the small handful of freelancers, to up and leave. That would leave the defenses nearly untenable, even with the mages, and Aisale was not stupid enough to risk that. It didn't mean he was happy or had to like it, however. He snarled and leaned back, his voice dripping scorn.

"Fine, do what you will with the mages. I will take into account the fact they are scattered about uselessly. Now, Jung, since you were so eager to step in, how is that search for specialized freelancers going? I take it I had tasked you with preparing this little venture that you think will be so useful." Jung nodded, and gestured for the guard who was waiting to enter, and exchanged several unheard words with the man before dismissing him. A self satisfied smirk, though a bit troubled, was on his face as he crossed his arms and addressed Aisale.

"Two have already arrived, and I have sent my guards and some mercenaries out to corral more this way. They will do what they can to gather more men and women to prepare the freelancers to head to the barracks. I will go and prepare to greet those that have arrived thus far. Ascarl, keep your head straight and strong while I'm gone." Jung excused himself and walked off, leaving Ascarl the one to speak on behalf of all the mercenaries. Aurelia smirked and stood steadily by the mercenary, squared off against Aisale and Delino. It was from here that discussions on defenses and retaliatory actions continued, leaving Jung to deal with the freelancers who would answer the specialized call that had went out.

---

Ishmael glanced back abruptly when the female voice spoke out, interrupting the argument between him and the two bit guard. The woman was quick to speak as someone who was obviously belonging within the keep, and rather irked with the guard for delaying someone she had summoned. He grinned at the guard's sputtering and apologies, resisting the urge to laugh and taunt the man. That would be pushing his luck more than he already had just grinning alone would. He strolled with a very leisurely and relaxed sense about him as the guard moved and allowed the two of them access into the keep, and the barracks that the call told them to meet up at. As soon as the guards were out of earshot, he began snickering then chuckling. The look on the guard's face was just brilliant, and he kept it up for a good minute or so before bringing it back under a loose reign of control. He still had an easy grin on his face as he finally spoke to the woman who had got them into the keep. He had a neutral, polite tone of voice as he spoke, giving the woman the benefit of the doubt that she had earned it for the time being.

"That was perfectly timed, and utterly amusing. He didn't like me showing up, couldn't say why." Ishmael gave credit where credit was due, and that being done, adjusted the way his sword rested and kept moving at the same pace as before, leaving what he said hang as it was. It would help gauge who he was dealing with, whether she was a complete psycho or more amiable than that would be determined, loosely of course. He didn't place as much stock as some did into who a person was depending on how they first acted towards them. Either way, the barracks were in sight at this point, and a sole man was waiting for them. He didn't say anything yet, waiting for them to be within a low speaking voice before he would say anything. The man was watching them and waiting though, and had his arms crossed over a battered set of armor. Obviously he had been in more than his fair share of fights along the line, though he himself was unharmed at the moment. Ishmael suspected he had turned down offers to fix the armor, keeping it as a badge of honor and showing off how he had survived more than your average soldier did.

---

Guards and more conscripted peasants were sweeping out into the city to find freelancers brave, or crazy, enough to take up the call to arms. Taverns especially were being targeted to find freelancers, so more than the normal amount of guards were lurking the streets near the known dives and taverns that would house such characters. It was militia and conscripts that actually went in to try and rally some freelancers, but the guards would stop passing men and women who looked the part and acted it from casual observation. It was quickly obvious, and therefor word spread, that the guards were waylaying and questioning mercenaries at seemingly random. Some thought they were looking for someone in specific, others thought that a new suicide mission was in the works. Either way, a guard spotted a large and imposing warrior striding down the street, and approached the man. The guard observed the brown trousers, pauldrons, and way the man held himself spoke to the guard that he was a warrior. The lack of uniform meant mercenary, so he stepped forward. Rather than worry about pleasantries or idle chatter, the guard went directly to the point. "Pardon me, sir. Are you currently engaged in any contracts at the moment?"

After a pint and a quick meal to refuel himself from the tournament Sepheran left the tavern, waving to the barmaids and bards he'd kept company for his time spent inside. He let the door close behind him with a soft clack of wood and strolled out into the street. He walked casually with his hands in his pockets through the center of town, greeted by the white noise of a city hard at work. The sharp clangs of metal striking metal and the sizzle of flash cooling weapons could be heard over the din, the clanging setting a rhythm in which Sepheran subconsciously followed with his steps. With the amount of recruits being outfitted recently Sepheran wondered if the blacksmiths ever got any rest. Many stalls were open, some selling food, others peddling merchandise of questionable quality, but nothing in town seemed to attract his attention. The earlier combat had been fun but Sepheran desperately wanted something equally interesting to catch his attention.

I need something to do, he thought.

As if in answer to his problem a guard approached from somewhere to his right and stopped him. "Pardon me, sir. Are you currently engaged in any contracts at the moment?"

"None, unfortunately," Sepheran answered with a shrug. "Is there work to be had?"

The guard nodded and handed him a yellowed parchment. "We're recruiting all able bodied men and women to meet at the barracks in town. We're in need of some additions to our forces and from the look of you I can see you'd be a prime candidate."

Sepheran snickered. "Prime candidate for what? Do you mean to say that you're in need of someone to do a little damage?"

The guard nodded and gestured over his shoulder at the road behind him that Sepheran assumed led to the barracks.

"I'm in," he said with a grin. The guard inclined his head and continued off down the street, in search of more possible recruits and left Sepheran to make his way to the barracks alone. Sepheran watched him leave and rolled up the parchment, stuffing it between one of the straps across his chest and made his way down the road at a more determined pace.

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Sepheran made it to the doorway of the building where another guard stood, just closing the door behind two people he didn't get a good look at. The guard adjusted himself and turned around to face the street when Sepheran strode forward, one hand reaching for his scroll.

"State your business," the guard said in a neutral, rehearsed voice.

Sepheran answered by unrolling the scroll and holding it up to the guards face. "I'm here because I was recruited."

The guard looked him up and down, Sepheran standing a good head and shoulders taller than the guard. He couldn't help but notice the guard letting his gaze linger a little longer on the thick sword on his back. Stepping sideways to the door's handle he opened it and motioned for him to head inside. "Very well."

Sepheran offered his thanks and walked in through the entrance, the door shutting behind him. He paused for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darker lighting, and walked through the corridor and down the hall until he came to another door with another guard barring the entrance. Before the guard stood a man and a woman, the man with long black hair and a black blade at his side and the woman with brown hair ending in blonde tips holding a long staff. Sepheran approached from behind as the guard opened the door to the group.

"You here for the job too?" he asked, hoping to break the ice.

With a quick sweep of her hand, Selene knocked the hood back off of her head so that her peripheral vision was no longer blocked. She honestly had no idea where they were heading since this was her first time in the Province, much less the Keep itself. Yet, before she could ask anything her companion had begun to snicker softly beside her, obviously amused. A moment passed until he settled back down once more and he was quick enough to speak before she had her chance to do so.

"That was perfectly timed, and utterly amusing. He didn't like me showing up, couldn't say why."

A grin swept her tanned features and she inclined her head slightly in gratitude for the compliment. Keeping her voice as neutral as the mercenary’s, she responded: “To be quite honest, I did not want to have to wait in line for my own chance to argue with the man regarding entrance. I assumed he would have to be dull-witted to argue with the likes of yourself, so I figured that a quick untruth would speed things up for the both of us.”

Her hazel eyes flickered quickly to the imposing figure beside her, momentarily assessing him as well as she could upon a glance before settling back on the path before them. A lone figure came into view, apparently waiting for them and while they were still a fair distance away, she opened her mouth to ask more questions but then pressed her lips together once more. If there truly was a group assembling in the barracks then she did not want to repeat herself a dozen times over, saying the same thing time after time.

Their footsteps quickly brought them to stand in front of the battle-scarred warrior that awaited them and silence hung in the air for a moment while the three assessed each other. It wasn’t overly obvious but apparent nonetheless. The healer wished that she had taken the time to cast a spell that further enabled her natural abilities to sift the deceit from the truths but she did not have the foresight. Oh well, it wasn’t as if she should go into a job simply awaiting to be tricked, should she? Perhaps the young healer was a bit too cynical about people and their motives.

Before the man could open his mouth to speak to the two newcomers, another man approached from behind them and his voice rang out in the silent room. Another warrior, it seemed.

"You here for the job too?" he asked, effectively ignoring the man standing before them as he address herself and the black-bladed warrior as he came to a stop beside them.

“Yes, the enigmatic task requiring able-bodied men and women from the posters.” Her hazel eyes went from man to man and her hand wrapped a bit tighter around her staff as she leaned some of her weight onto it. She had been walking around the city for almost an hour now and was eager to get somewhere that she could either sit or rest.

Ishmael smirked and nodded at the reason given by the woman for why she had stepped in. While some would be irked by the casual deceit, he had absolutely no problem with it. He engaged in such things when it was beneficial, and in retrospect he probably could have bypassed the whole situation with the guard sooner if he had better thought out his approach. Hindsight was not terribly useful though, so he didn't dwell on the thought much at all. "Indeed, it did make things much faster than having to wait for him to, most likely, run off to his superiors. Then explain why I let myself in after the guard left."

He chuckled to himself, imagining the looks on the collective guards faces if such a turn of events had come to be. Looking over the scarred man in front of them, he had to assume that he was the one that had put out the call for freelance mercenaries. Hopefully there would be more than just him and the woman he had already encountered thus far, or whatever mission the man had in mind wouldn't last terribly long. That was also being optimistic enough to assume they would be hired if not enough men and women answered this call to arms.

Sure enough another warrior came strolling in, voice clear in the otherwise quiet environment. The woman also spoke before he did, answering the big man's question. He chipped in his own words as well, arms relaxed at his sides. "Aye, not much information was given on it. Maybe battle worn here can enlighten us?" It wasn't poking fun at the man, just calling it as he saw it. The tone was still neutral, and the man standing before them finally spoke, having finished looking over the three that had arrived so far.

"I was hoping for more to arrive, but time is short, so others that arrive will be briefed on the run, as it were. My name is Jung, one of the two representatives of the mercenary forces here in Estengar. Ascarl is the other representative, but is working with Lord Aisale as we speak to prepare. Have a seat if you wish." He had obvious disdain for Aisale in his voice, not bothering to try and hide it, despite the harsh looks several guards that were in earshot gave the man when he spoke ill of their leader. He gestured towards the seats in the barracks, offering for them to sit if they wanted to. Ishmael took immediate advantage of that, sitting down rather ungracefully and swinging his boots onto the table, arms relaxed behind his head. Once the others had chosen where they wished to stand, Jung began simply.

"Yes, the call to arms was enigmatic at best, for good reasons. Aisale has no bloody clue how to make a proper assault after repelling the attacks on the defenses. His father was better at that than him. Shows you can't teach ingenuity in that sense. He doesn't like mercenaries to begin with either, just as a warning. But you and whomever else shows up will be leading a vanguard against Delcar once the attack is repulsed. The main army will be organized and marching behind you, but most of the time you'll be on your own. That's why it was enigmatic, saying that right out wouldn't get anyone to show up." Jung was being honest with the mercenaries before him, gauging their reactions to the idea of having to lead the attack right into Delcar.

Ishmael hadn't shifted from his position, a thoughtful look on his face. He would let the other two speak first, but he wasn't too terribly put off by the idea of being the vanguard force. The Lord may be incompetent on assaults, but he probably would be able to catch up if they ran into trouble that they couldn't handle by themselves. He kept his peace though, waiting and listening to see how the other two responded so far. Introductions would probably be soon though, if for no other reason then he was getting tired of having to use woman and big man to describe the two of them.

Letting an uncomfortable silence fall between the group and this guy who had been giving the information, Sepheran finally cleared his throat with a smirk.

"Hi, my name's Sepheran," he said sarcastically, "and I like like to fight." He turned to their host, also looking at the two others for their contributions before leaning back against the wall.

"I think its a fine plan. I personally would have volunteered for front line work anyway." Sepheran was excited, more so than he had been in a while. "I don't mean to sound impatient but when will we be heading out? Also, will there be payment?" The thrill of battle was enough to spur Sepheran on but even a warrior needed to eat.

Deciding to let the man continue with his speach Sepheran sat silently as he spoke, listening also to responses from the two others in the room to gauge the kind of people he was going to be working with.

A series of barely perceptible facial twitches and subtle smirks made their way onto Selene’s countenance as the battle scarred man, Jung, spoke of this Lord Aisale. It was amusing to her how easily some people let their emotions come into play and there was no doubt that Jung believed the Lord to be an imbecile even if he hadn’t stated it so succinctly. His tone belied his feelings either way.

When offered a seat in the middle of the conversation, Selene slipped onto one of the chairs and crossed her legs, folding her hands upon her lap after she had rested her staff against the table beside her. When the explanation of the ‘enigmatic’ task arose, Selene’s face remained neutral. The first to break the silence thereafter was the latecomer, who introduced his self as Sepheran and she paused for a moment to see if the man with the black sword would go next. When he seemed disinclined to follow suit, she spoke up in her soft, calming voice.

“Well, now I know why I was asked to join. I am Selene, a healer.” Her ever-darting eyes once more traced over each man in turn and she gave a slight nod of her chin after introducing herself. “I will be honest in saying that I have no real skills to offer other than healing but I have traveled extensively, unlike some of the temple bound clerics. So perhaps that is another of my assets. I will not complain no matter how far we roam. I am not good in a fight, though, but I assume that is why they also recruited men such as you.” Her gaze landed upon each of the fighter’s weapons before rising back to Jung.

Zephana walked at a measured pace toward the keep. She had arrived in the city with the intention of signing up with the regular army, but the cheerful soldier who had been doing the rounds of the taverns had mentioned ‘freelance work’. She’d heard others speaking, later, laughing over the idea that some sap or other might sign up for it. These men had been seasoned mercenaries, and had reckoned shrewdly that it was some near-suicidal scouting mission. The general conclusion was that no reward would be worth the danger. Especially, one had laughed, a wit amongst the others drinking there, with the ‘no-kin’ clause.

To Zephana’s mind, this was poor logic. If the mission should fail, they were each one step closer to their deaths – and then to their undeaths.

The mood in the inn had been far too jovial for her liking. The tavern’s minstrel had been playing a song about the glorious days of the Unification wars, subtly implying that they would all come back heroes. Several young men began competing in wild boasts. She had judged them to be farmer’s sons, green and inexperienced. For them, the threat of war that loomed in the distance had been no more than that, and they had tended their fields with the tales told to them by their grizzled grandfathers ringing in their ears. Soon, she had reflected, those brothers in arms would be fighting side by side.

Afterward, they would be merely be fighting.

...Well, it was important to keep morale high, she supposed.

Up ahead now she could see the gatehouse looming. There were a couple of guards there, looking somewhat ruffled and more alert than usual, as though they were expecting arrivals or an officer had recently passed.

“State your business,” one said.

“I am here about the freelance work,” she responded stiffly. After scrutinising her, the man nodded. He beckoned her to follow, leading to a door which he knocked upon and then opened. “Another for you, sir,” he called.

Zephana stepped into the room. It seemed that she had entered during a discussion. A dangerous-looking man wearing battered armor and appeared to be the focus of their attention. Zephana’s immediate attention was caught by the intriguing sword, now sheathed but just visible, worn by one of the men. Curls of what looked like shadow and darkness spilled out at the edges of the scabbard, and it was evidently highly magical. The other man was also a warrior in appearance, clad in thick armor and with a shield strapped to his back. Then there was a young woman, unarmored and wearing simple travelling gear, with a slender walking staff beside her. That meant, Zephana concluded, that she was likely a mage.

Zephana herself was likewise clad in travelling clothes, although as a concession to armor she was at least wearing high boots, and thin, supple leathers darkened with oils and dyes. At her side was a long knife, and that was all. She twitched down her hood, and then spoke directly to the man in the battered armor, ignoring the others. “Excuse me,” she said, almost coldly. She inclining her head to him in a nod by way of apology. No further explanation for her arrival was offered, as she moved to one side of the door and folded her arms to listen, allowing for conversation to continue.

Ishmael listened to how each person responded, mentally noting that they were more than willing to go off and take this job without any real problems. The newcomer was dressed without armor, so he marked her down as another mage. He nodded to Selene and Sepheran each as they introduced themselves, and to the newcomer as well.

"It's a pleasure. Sepheran has a point on pay. I doubt you'd expect this sort of work to be cheap. Even with the lot of us willing, as it seems thus far, better be some good hazard pay." Ishmael smirked, and before Jung had a chance to start, made an off hand comment to those that had arrived so far. "Oh yea, call me Ishmael." Jung nodded to each person, and quickly caught the newcomer up on what was said before hand.

"As I did say, acting as the vanguard of the counterattack into Delcar will be dangerous. Standard mercenary pay, by Lord Aisale's standard before the current situation, was 5 gold pieces per day, with an additional 5 pieces of hazard pay during battle. However, the unique situation for standard mercenaries has upped both values to 10 pieces per day, and 10 pieces for hazard pay. Considering that is average, each of you will receive 50 pieces of gold per day. An additional 60 for large encounters with Delcar's forces, minor skirmishes don't apply. Both retained until Delcar is defeated." Jung had crossed his arms at this point, looking at each of the mercenaries to see their reactions to the pay offer. There would be time to negotiate and discuss the details later, but for now he had to keep things moving. He gestured towards the larger map, with a scaled down replica of the fortress, and hostile forces in front of it.

"If you would hold questions for the moment, Aisale is riding his subordinates ragged trying to get everything into place. Which means I have to give the short version of whats going on. Delcar's forces are being overseen by the Warlord. Not one of us know much about the man, besides the fact he was present during the Unification Wars as well, and caused a royal pain in the arse for Peranor then. We do know its unlikely he will commit himself so soon, so here's to small miracles. Granted, all of the first wave of the invasion is amassed outside this fortress. Scouts have speared out across the border and confirmed this. But the majority of them are soldiers. Some are the magic users from their Veiled Church, but they are scattered about rather than outright focused into one force. Defense plan is simple. Hold the first wall as long as possible, indicated by this brown line here. Then, hold the second and beat back Delcar. If you freelancers accept the job, you'll be right at the gate, for when they breach the first line. Questions so far?"

Jung stood up straight again, crossing his arms and waiting. Ishmael had kept quiet the whole time. 50 gold a day wasn't bad, considering the standard wage mercenaries usually got, even in bands where they have more bargaining power. He looked over the plan on first and second walls of defense, and made an offhand comment, not a question per say, just a comment. "Hmm, would be tricky if the second line was broken. Straight push to the keep after that..." He was planning on accepting the job, even if the others had no plans on doing so, he would. The gold would make life comfortable for a fair amount of time, adding in any loot that was 'liberated' during the push, he would have a healthy cushion in case things went south, employment wise.

Sepheran nodded his head in approval at the rate of pay they'd be recieving. Sure it wasn't an exorbetant amount that could be expected from bounties on high value targets and the like which were common to mercenaries but it was a comfortable wage for what needed to be done. Sepheran glanced back at the swordsman, earlier identified as Ishmael, and studied him for a moment. He wasn't over large but he wasn't brittle, good for a swordsman with the type of weapon he carried. But there was something about he blackness that hung around the blade of his longsword that made Sepheran uneasy. He'd have to inquire about it after the meeting. Returning his attention to Jung before Ishmael noticed his evaluating gaze he folded his arms over his chest and looked at the large map that Jung revealed.

After explaning the battle plan and the goals that involved little deviation Jung finished speaking, leaving the floor open for questions. Ishmael cleared his throat.

"Hmm, would be tricky if the second line was broken. Straight push to the keep after that..."

"But," Sepheran offered, "it would serve as a funnel to any of the forces heading there, the surroundings effectively making only one way to go. Perfect way to focus down tight groups if you ask me."

Sepheran stepped from the wall and out toward the table, leaning a hand on a high backed chair. "I'm in this for the duration and if we can keep their forces spread long enough to allow our vanguard to focus down key points of the force we could effectively make them break formation and be forced to retreat."

Yet another freelancer stepped through the door and it was another woman this time, thankfully. Though her optimism at having another female in the group ended with that thought. This woman seemed… cold and withdrawn at first glance and the impression was quickly validated when the lightly armored traveler uttered a single line, “Excuse me,” before standing away from the rest of the group to listen.

Jung proceeded to do a quick recap of the situation before elaborating more thoroughly on the pay and the plan of attack, both of which caused Selene’s breath to catch in her throat. Apparently this Lord Aisale could move mountains when forced to do so and protecting the sovereignty of his lands was a good enough cause. Still, after hearing the finer details, the cleric still believed this to be a near suicide mission and she said as much beneath her breath while the others spoke of strategy.

“Dead men collect no gold…” The words whispered from her lips, followed by an equally soft sigh as she weighed her options. Either way, she was here to help but she had assumed that she would be stationed in one of the temples or at least behind the keep’s second set of walls to tend those that fell back into the protected areas. She had never been on the front lines of any skirmishes and wondered if she would be more of a hindrance than a help. Still, she did have some protective spells and perhaps this was a true test of her faith. If she did not believe that her goddess could help her stay alive on the forefront of the battle then she truly did not believe in Tyeroa’s power, did she?

“I am not quite as seasoned at the art of warfare as most of you seem to be….” A slight smile curved her lips as her shoulders shrugged beneath her cloak. “But I am not about to back away either. If I can be of help then I will be by your sides. Just forgive me if I rely on your expertise relating to all things battle-related.”

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A scant half-dozen elves were all that was left of the group that had been sent to Zeelalor from the province of Ethea. Some of their brethren had only escorted them to the borders of the dead lands and then doubled back to Ethea once more to protect their clan, two of the young hunters had been lost to a bandit attack, and one other had simply disappeared into the night. At the front of the pack was a figure dressed quite warmly in her brown leather armor and massive bear-pelt cloak. Her features were indiscernible in the dark and as she approached the back gates of the Keep the soft zip of an arrow flying through the air could be heard by the woman’s keen ears. Yet she did not duck for the arrow sounded several paces from behind her left flank so she knew it was one of the kin that had fired their bow and her assumption was proven when a scout from Delcar’s army crumpled to the ground. A smirk now twisted her lips as she approached the gawking gate guards. Most likely they were astonished that they had not seen the scout. Either that or the guards were simply embarrassed that they had been so close to the enemy without knowing it.

”Car, cestal! Shi cali tysti sai eir o ail si tystol shari…..” The leader was stopped as one of her kin placed a hand on her shoulder and she internally winced. She was so used to only speaking to other elves that it took a moment for her to switch over to common and the guard's astonishment grew more noticeable after hearing her speech. It was rare for the elven to have anything do to with the humans.

“Apologies…” she said slowly, her voice still carrying a bit of the musical lilt that it had when she spoke her own language. “We… rarely speak to… outsiders.” Short pauses fragmented her sentence as she searched quickly for the words that she was looking for. The more that she spoke common, the easier it would be for her to voice her thoughts. “I said: Hail, humans! We have come to aid you in the coming battle.”

The guards, vocal men that they were, nodded their heads and pushed open the gates to allow the elven band entry. The female at the lead arched a brow but took the opportunity instead of questioning it then she led her men inside so that the gates could close once more behind them.

It wasn’t long before the woman had settled her kin at the nearest inn. They were all excellent archers and she had informed the nearest guard of their qualifications so that he could see to it that they were placed at the walls where their eagle-eye aim would be of best use. When she had put the rest of her affairs in order and was wandering back through the town, another guardsman stopped her in the middle of the street and handed her a missive in a tongue that she couldn’t quite read. Though she could speak common, she couldn’t write or read the language and abruptly handed the parchment back to the man. His brow cocked in indignation and his cheeks flushed, thinking that it was the arrogance of the elves that drove her to dismiss it so quickly.

“Listen here you….” He began even as the elven woman held up a hand for his silence so she could explain herself. The guard's features softened and he explained the scroll then gestured up the road towards the Keep, even offering to walk with her to show her where the barracks were located. Another wave of her hand and a charming smile left the guard befuddled as she made her own way towards the large looming construct, silently wondering what mission these humans needed help with.

Zephana’s interest in the rate of pay was largely indifference. Partly this was due to her upbringing – Zephana had rarely had to pay for anything herself. It had only been very recently that she’d had to manage her own finances. Though she appreciated the coin for rare reagents and similar to pursue her studies, in practice being fed and having somewhere to sleep at night was all she needed. Her other reason was simply that the more was extorted from this man, the less coin Peranor would have to buy wheat and essential supplies for their citizens. Especially when winter set in.

That said, ‘retained’ until the end of the war might be never. Not being paid was of little consequence to her – although she thought it likely that gold might be worth rather less in a post-war nation than it would be now.

As she continued to listen, a frown began to appear on her forehead.

"Delcar's forces are being overseen by the Warlord. Not one of us know much about the man, besides the fact he was present during the Unification Wars as well, and caused a royal pain in the arse for Peranor then. We do know its unlikely he will commit himself so soon, so here's to small miracles. Granted, all of the first wave of the invasion is amassed outside this fortress. Scouts have speared out across the border and confirmed this. But the majority of them are soldiers. Some are the magic users from their Veiled Church, but they are scattered about rather than outright focused into one force. Defense plan is simple. Hold the first wall as long as possible, indicated by this brown line here. Then, hold the second and beat back Delcar. If you freelancers accept the job, you'll be right at the gate, for when they breach the first line. Questions so far?"

The Warlord’s presence was inevitable, she conceded, if highly alarming. The presence of the Veiled Church even in scattered numbers was also cause for concern. Zephana thought little enough of the idea of holding the walls, but she was hardly going to refuse. She turned over several considerations in her mind before speaking.

“Then we are to use whatever means are necessary to repel the invaders." She considered a moment longer, before speaking quietly. "If board and lodgings are thrown in, I accept ."

Ishmael listened to what Sepheran said about funneling the enemy if the second line was broken. It was a good idea, but he had to wonder if there were enough forces in place to do as planned. There probably was, but it was good to have a back up idea in case it went south. He didn't bring that up though, they would burn that bridge when they got to it. If he had noticed the look that his sword had gotten from those inclined to take note so far, he wouldn't have really reacted. People didn't like the sword, or the reason behind why it behaved how it did, and had told him often enough to have built up a good lack of reaction whenever it happened again. But that was for later, for now he just nodded in agreement with what Sepheran stated. "True, and numbers won't be nearly as effective if they are funneled tightly together. Sitting ducks for archers and mages. I'm on board with this, by the way."

Ishmael also didn't do much more than nod in her direction in acknowledgment when Selene mentioned her lack of actual combat experience. Most healers he had dealt with, beyond seeing the aftermath of the fighting, didn't know terribly much about actually waging war on others. Ignoring the one who had disarmed him and tossed him a good dozen feet in one sweep of his staff, but he considered that man an exception to the general way healers acted. Most just ranted at him for coming back in worse shape than he went out in, before patching him back together again. But he did respect what they did, considering they saved more lives than your average soldier could say they did by fighting. Jung had listened quietly to what the freelancers who had arrived so far, and answered what questions were presented so far.

"Yes, in addition to pay, board and lodgings are provided at the first wall barracks. Miss Selena, I am sure that combat inexperience will, at worst, be rectified quickly. Lastly, whether you like the the layout of defenses or not Ishmael, Aisale sees the matter like Sir Sepheran does." At this point, a guard interrupted to allow the newest freelancer to enter the barracks main room. An elven archer, by the looks of her. Jung silently wondered why the freelancers insisted on coming in ones and twos, and if he were a suspicious man, suspected the ones that answered were lined up outside, deliberately coming in after important information was explained. He inclined his head politely though, betraying nothing of his thoughts, but otherwise continued, working a repetition of the information necessary in.

"So, with 50 gold per day, and another 60 for major encounters, defense of the gates will be included there once Delcar's forces breach them, and lodging provided at the first wall barracks, that is the current situation. Lord Aisale is most likely yelling at Ascarl again, and it would be unfair to leave him alone there much longer. I'll leave organizing leadership, and handling new freelancers, to you lot. Ascarl will show you the first wall barracks once the briefing is done, so it would be appreciated if you wait here for him to show you the way to the barracks intended." With that, Jung departed and Ishmael reclined back into his chair, giving the new elf girl a once over. First time he had ever seen an elf outside writing and artwork. Somehow, he had thought they would be taller. Smirking to himself as he leaned back forward, Ishmael commented out loud. "Seems like our lord and master Aisale is just the perfect form of a magnificent leader. So speaks Jung, co-leader of the mercenaries, and first son of gods know what!" His voice was dripping with sarcasm, and took a free stab at Jung as soon as he had left, because he had no real reason not to since he was out of earshot.

Sepheran arched an eyebrow at Ishmael's sarcastic remark. "Be that as it may, it seems we're the ones who are ultimately going to help out." He too took a moment to glance at the diminutive female elf and then returned his attention to the group. "We have a good group here, from the looks of it, and with the way things have been going so far we're bound to have more people show up before we leave."

Sepheran strolled over to the map and scale model of the area they were headed to. He looked at the positioning of the forces against and inside the wall. From what he saw, being an outdated representation, it looked like their mission would go with little problems. Sepheran learned long ago to expect the unexpected and to never take anything at face value. He looked over the map, various pin pricks of reinforcements and supply lines that were still intact and others that were taken. The route they'd be traveling was highlighted along one of the reinforcement lines and provided the most direct route to the battle.

Sepheran walked back over to the others. "While we wait I suppose we should discuss who will lead this band of mercenaries. Who here has had some experience in battle and leading a group of people to a common goal? I would nominate myself but I'd like to hear what the rest of you have to say."

"Well," Sepheran said after a while, "we still don't know each other very well. How about we get to know each other better before we make a decision? We are going to be relying on one another after all. I'd like to place my life in the hands of someone I know rather than a complete stranger."

Zephana allowed her gaze to drift curiously toward the elf, whom she stared at for several seconds. Turning away, she listened to Ishmael and then Sepheran in turn. She had no idea what had prompted the sarcasm from Ishmael, though sarcasm there evidently was when he spoke about Jung. Had he taken a disliking to the man? For what? Not that she particularly cared.

As to Sepheran's deliberations, she had little desire to 'get to know' any of these people. That said, she supposed it was true that some understanding of each other's capabilities would assist them. Bah.

"As to that," she replied, staring off into the middle distance, "I have neither the skill nor the inclination to lead. If you would nominate yourself, I accept your commendation. I have little desire to become acquainted with you. But you may call me Phania, if you wish." Going by her real name would likely have been ill-advised, in the circumstances. "You may also call upon me to handle foes in high numbers given protection. I have some skill in the destructive arts." Her speech over, she fell abruptly silent.

Unbeknownst to her, Aear had walked the same path that the others hand before her and ended up in front of the same self-righteous guard that blocked the way into the keep. Thankfully, for the guard’s sake as well as that of the elf, the man had enough people stomping in and out that he just opened the door to allow her entry. Apparently she fit whatever requirements there were for freelancers because soon she found herself pushed through the door right in between a few of the other mercenary types.

Jung looked aggravated that he had to go over the information again and after answering a few previously posed queries, he trudged from the room leaving the elf in the midst of human strangers. Though all of the humans seemed to give Aear a once over, the first person to actually speak to the elven huntress was the cleric, Selene, who smiled serenely as the others chattered amongst themselves about leaders and introductions. In fact, the cleric surprised the elf by speaking to her in her own tongue, though not quite as fluently as her kin.

“Well met, Huntress. I assume you are here regarding the posters? It will be nice to work with someone that smells more of nature than death and destruction….” The cleric chuckled softly before turning her attention back to her new found compatriots, nodding her head to the mage as she finally gave her name. “And well met to you, Phania…” she sensed the introduction was a partial truth but didn’t say anything. People had their own reasons for their actions.

Aear blinked in surprise after the short interchange and then eyed the rest of the group, feeling as if she had missed out on something already. Pushing her furred hood back off of her head, she flattened her palms against one another in front of her chest then bowed at the waist. “Lle quena i'lambe tel' Eldalie? Non? I am… ahhh.. My name is Aear'tyrneavalsa Calaruil…” she trailed off slightly as she realized that it was quite a mouthful for someone not familiar with her language. “You may call me Aear. It will be easier for your human tongues.” A grin brightened her face and she lowered her hands once more so they fell by her sides. “I am a leader of my people but not of yours. Humans are….” She tried to pick words out that fit her view of humans without offending them. “Loud… brash… Metallic… Face first fighters! We are more subtle. Shoot from trees, call the earth to help…” She shrugged and slid into a chair opposite of everyone else near where Jung had been standing and crossed her legs.

Selene watched the elf struggle with her common and then answered the question herself. “I have already stated that I would prefer to hang back and tend the wounded. That leaves the both of you….” The cleric pointed to both Ishmael and Sepheran in turn before continuing. “So the real question is… What sort of experience do either of you have and what type of morals do you exhibit? I would know both of these things before following anyone into battle….”

Ishmael nodded towards Phania as she introduced herself, declining spilling out her life story in the first moments of dealing with one another. Sepheran couldn't have expected a different answer then that one. At least not yet, if one would take an optimistic outlook. Listening to the rest of what the man said, about nominating himself but wanting to hear from the others, he shrugged. "Not overly partial to leading myself, even if I've had to do so before."

Ishmael had been glancing between people and the map, mostly focused on the map granted, but keeping an eye on the others. It seemed to be a straightforward move to the front lines, as it were, as soon as Jung finished getting his act together and getting a guard to show them their post, as they were so kindly ordered to wait for. The bit about knowing each other, and the somewhat limited reactions that got, amused Ishmael. The elf girl, Aear, had summed up the majority of human warriors well enough. He generally avoided a fair confrontation in a face to face sense, but that was just common sense. She had been trying to not be insulting, though the more sensitive might be caught off guard at brash and loud. "Pleasure to meet you Aear. This is solely as a fair warning, but some of us humans with more sensitive dispositions might find being called brash and loud unpleasant."

The cleric girl Selene's questions caused a grin to break out on his face. Oh how he could put off the companions off with his answer. He resisted, though, and instead gave her a somewhat kinda answer. "I've led before, like I said. Otherwise, got nothing going in my favor. Besides swordplay and dabbling in magic." He adjusted the way his sheathed sword rested, ignoring what little shadowy smoke leaked, as it always was doing. The only drawback of that sword was it constantly had to manifest itself in that form. At this point, he assumed that Sepheran would take the role of leader, simply because none of the others, himself included, had really been inclined to want to lead.

While the group was discussing matters, guards were running around rather urgently, one waiting for the group to finish discussing who was to be the leader. Once it was settled, the female guard approached the group and nodded curtly. She really didn't have time for pleasantries or politeness for freelance mercs. "Jung sent me to show you to the gatehouse barracks. We had best be quick about it though." With that, she gestured and had the group follow her off towards the front of the keep. It would be a good thirty minute walk, at the brisk pace she was moving at, to get them to the gatehouse that was assigned to them. Once they arrived, it was obvious why they were assigned it.

It was a maintained, but simple, two story brick structure straight across from the main gate. Smoke could be seen rising into the sky from where campfires were burning just outside the reach of the walls. Inside the building was a common room where they would meet, kitchen, and other necessities. The second story was exclusively bedrooms, enough to house a good twenty or so people without having to share rooms. Each room was the same, with a bed and several chests to store equipment. Behind the building was a small open training yard for guards to practice and pass time. The guard showed the group the building, making a small statement before leaving. "This is the guard building you'll be bunked at for the time being. No one knows when Delcar will attack, but most believe we can get at least another nights sleep in before it begins."

The words 'guerilla tactics' had sprung to Phania's lips as the elf had spoken but had remained there, unspoken. Instead she simply listened. 'Nothing in my favour except swordplay and dabbling in magic' seemed unnecessary self-deprecation to her, but it was apparent he sought to downplay himself. Evidently she was not the only one keeping secrets.

She lingered at the back of the group as they headed towards the barracks, tiring a little and disinclined to further talk. As for the barracks themselves, she wondered idly why any barracks would offer individual rooms rather than shared bunks. It suited her nevertheless. Officer residences, she decided. As the guard led them back to where they had started and informed them of their likely day's reprieve, she simply waited for the others to choose their own sleeping quarters.