War of the One: Life of a Soldier [Sam 26]

[Brytan]

Brytan complied patiently with the healer's directions. He had the utmost respect for healers and surgeons and this one seemed to know what he was talking about, he thought as he started applying the ointment to his burns after the surgeon had finished checking both him and Langredoc. It did indeed feel good on his skin, and the thought of not fighting today seemed appealing. Doctor's orders outweighed the King's even? The goo he had to drink tasted horrendous and he wasn't likely to drink anything for a while even if he wanted to, the gunk sticking to his entire digestive track down into his stomach, or so it seemed.

As he sat on the ground, men moving around him he heard the sergeant voice his orders to Dranlen, who in turn seemed to wait for Langredoc and him to finish their treatment. He looked up and found that indeed he seemed to be waiting for them. "Is this guy dense?"

"Erh, I forgot your name. Are you waiting for us to go dig that grave with you?" He didn't really wait for his reply as it was a retoric question to start with.

"Take a flicker to look around you. This is an army...A R M Y. You know, a large group of...brainless idiots...people fighting...a pointless fight...together. Men, women and even some stirfried children." Brytan was at the point of shouting, would his throat not prevent it. "I'm sure, since we only moved like two steps there's a few of them who haven't gone into burning forests yet and who would be happy to dig a grave for someone they DIDN'T watch die! Thank you very much!"

"Now would you mind getting out of my face for a moment, I'm drinking here."

[Michel Carbonneau]

Michel cursed as he was reminded of the fact that he couldn't read yet. He had wanted to learn it as soon as he had made the rank of captain, but things had moved so fast that he had not had time yet. Quickly he ordered Atix to move in close, so that the others wouldn't be able to hear. "Read it to me." Was all that he said, the look in his eyes saying the rest.

Once he had heard the orders he would call sergeant Cleyden with him. "Sergeant. I did not hear myself give the order to dig a grave for the dead guy. Now I don't know if you hear things that aren't there, but if you haven't heard me give the order, you don't give out an order. Do we understand each other, sergeant?"

[Langredoc]

Brytan turned to Langredoc, voice still coarse. "You may have saved my life..." he started, "but next time, when you feel like questioning my abilities, think twice if your own life is dear to you."

Not a very experienced guy. Langredoc thought. Still has a lot to learn... if he lives that is.

For a few flickers he ignored the Sergeant while he pondered if he would give a answer to the guy, his face made stone show more emotion. He scratched his chin, carefully evading the burned places and decided that a other time would do. All in good time.

The command "Sit your butt over there and remain sitting. Is that clear?" was a bit odd, but he was not a Sergeant for nothing, he did not need moire trouble in the ranks. So Langredoc sat down, as ordered.

Then the healer came.... Inside himself Langredoc cursed.. that was just what he wanted to evade. No strangers touching his body, especially not Dominicus strangers....

When the man talked to him he just grumbled back "I never said I was unhurt... I just said that it was under control." Then he just did what the man asked. And added that the only other burns he had where on his legs. When he tried to evade the possibility of showing his chest in public.
Whip and other scars and a shining Red warrior symbol where hard to hide. Langredoc was not really looking forward to answer questions about any of those.

He accepted the ointment and bottle with gratitude, thanking the man for what he did. He took a large gulp of the bottle and his face reflected the taste...... bitter and awful.. but it worked. Breathing was better and the blisters hurt less.

The Sergeant and Dranlen discussed the burial of the remains of the dead man. Then Dranlen talked to him and he nodded. Then Bryan exploded and he turned his attention to the young man. Feeling pity for the man.

Langredoc slowly rose back at his feed.

"I won't be able to rest anyway for now. I shall bury the poor lad." he said and he started to move towards the tools.

While he past Brytan he said "This war is not your fault, you just have to survive it, you owe that to the ones who love you. But remember in a war there are rarely second chances, and if you fail you shall be eighter wounded or dead. But in the end you always make your own choices, and the price you pay for that...is up to you."

Then he moved to the Captain. "I ask permission to burry the man, Captain." Langredoc asked.

[Brytan]

While Langredoc passed Brytan he said "This war is not your fault, you just have to survive it, you owe that to the ones who love you. But remember in a war there are rarely second chances, and if you fail you shall be either wounded or dead. But in the end you always make your own choices, and the price you pay for that...is up to you."

Brytan didn't care much for his two faced approach to combat. His father and his mentor had always said that war was a simple thing; "Kill or get killed." For some reason the hardened warrior Langredoc claimed to be had to hide behind filosophical arguments, looking for someone to blame for the war even.

"He blames someone for this war? From what I hear we are here at the command of the king to cleanse evil from this place. What could be more noble than to fight and perhaps die in the eye of Dominicus? Unless..."

Unless Langredoc wasn't a follower of the church. Now, that in itself didn't bother Brytan usually. He wasn't a religious zealot nor did he want to turn anyone over to his faith. People were free to make that choice. But if those same people might pose a threat later, standing at his back in the same war even, Brytan would have to make sure not to lose sight of them. Betrayal in the middle of combat was even worse for your health than a burning forest...

[Gavin Tylvan]

"Yes, sir." It was all Dreylen said. Atix was at Michel's side immediately. Nodding once he took the message and read it out loud to the Commander.

To Legion Commanders

Everything proceeds as according to Commander Carbonneau's plan. As fire will take some time to die out I advise you to order your men to stand down and relax a bit. We shall proceed our march within a mark. Until then keep an eye out and have faith in Dominicus.

His Royal Highness

King Balthasar I

The other smaller parchment was much more brief.

Commander Carbonneau

It would be my pleasure if you were to join me and other commanders for dinner in my tent this evening.

Balthasar

As Atix finished reading, Sergeant Cleyden coughed next to Michel's stirrup. He nodded at Atix without looking at his Commander. "Commander, if I may have a word with you in private." He waited until Atix was dismissed before leaning closer. "Sir, while I do recognize and respect your authority, I must point out that I am your second in command. and as such it is my duty to interpret your orders. Usual military practice is for the commander to concern himself with higher aspects of command and leave the day to day running to his second in command. That has worked admirably in the past."

As he spoke the Sergeant looked directly into the mounted man's eyes. "Also, it should be noted that there is such a thing as chain of command. You give your orders to me, I pass them to Sergeants, they pass them to Corporals and so on. If you or anybody else disrupts the chain of command and goes over someone's head it tends to disrupt the discipline and undermine people's authority. What I am trying to say is this. You said there would be a ceremony later today. I never did anything out of line. For proper ceremony we need a grave. Thus I eased the burden of your shoulders and started the preparations for the event. You had other problems to concern yourself with. Like the orders from the King. Unless we can't have an agreement on this I would have to ask to be replaced as your second in command and that you choose someone else to serve as you aide."

It was obvious this disturbed the aged soldier considerably. The lines of his face were grim and as he spoke, his voice wavered a bit, especially when he suggested being replaced. His gruff appearance was a bit of a contrast to the word he used. Sergeant Cleyden was not the man you would expect to use such classy words. Appearances could indeed be deceptive.

Dranlen might have misinterpreted the Sergeant's order. Brytan might have the right to be touchy. Was it the smoke? The lack of air in his lungs? The pain the burns cause? Or something else? Something deeper? Nobody stopped neither of them from moving away. As soon as the healer was done Brytan and Langredoc were left to fend for themselves. The soldiers around them were slowly settling down, everybody realizing that until the fire died down somewhat there were going nowhere. Luckily the wind was blowing towards the forest, and thus the smoke was not that much of a problem. Heat, however, was an issue and soon people started loosening their armor straps and taking off their helmets.

As they moved away from the lines Dranlen and Langredoc found the wagon fairly easy. An aged man sat in the front and eyed them with suspicion. "You the lads, Sergeant Cleyden sent? No matter. Just take what you need and bring it back when you are done. And don't make me come looking for ya." He motioned to the back where a large amount of tools stood. Finding a shovel would be easy.

Around Brytan rumors flew. "I hear he was pulled in and held by the wines." It was hard to attach faces to voices. "Might as well settle. King wants to wait." Men were quickly bored with the fire and war as soldiers were prone to. "Too close to the bloody forest. Hope the fire clears away the taint." On and on they went. Talking about Dereck, the King, the forest, the demons. In hushed voices. Almost as if afraid they might be overheard.

[Dranlen]

Without knowledge of how hard the ground was, Dranlen decided that a pick and shovel would not be a bad idea and though happy to have Langredoc's assistance in the task he was still slightly concerned for the warriors well being.

As they collected the tools Dranlen sought to discuss the location of the grave with Langredoc.

"The lad was certainly a follower of Dominicus so should be buried in a place that would have a deal of sunlight. I think that a place on the hill facing the dawn would be apt. For if we buried him in the valley it might be washed open when rains come. In my village the burial ground was near to the church, slightly apart from the village, unshaded by the woods the sun shone brightly on the markers."

Silence was the last thing Dranlen wanted at this time, and speech hastened the thoughts of death, anyone's death from his mind, perhaps he was prattling but it certainly distracted his thoughts of the charred body twisted in the agony of death consumed by fire.

He assumed that Langredoc had collected a shovel and once they had reached a suitable site would dig the grave facing each other, one starting from each end.

The effort of digging gave new purpose and he ceased to speak unless spoken to by Langredoc, intent on moving the earth from the ground they had chosen for the grave.

[Langredoc]

Langredoc took the shovel, strange enough it always seemed that this tool was more heavy then any other tool.

Absent mindedly he touched the pouch hanging from his neck, mostly hidden below his cloth and armour. Seventeen coins it contained now, death coins, also called ferryman coins. As many mercenaries kept a coin hanging around there neck to increase the chance on a proper burial. Langredoc had always kept the coins from people he liked, or who he deemed special in a way. Seventeen coins, so far, seventeen people burried in noname places. This kid would have probably have no coin, being a dominicus follower and not even a real soldier. No coin, and no hope, and no luck. His god was just as cruel as any other, Langredoc concluded.

Langredoc was silent, absorbed by thoughts pictured with bloodless faces in muddy fields, on rainy... sunny days, just a few or many...just to many he guessed. until Dranlen started to talk suggesting the burial place, langredoc responded with a quiet nod. While digging the grave Langredoc realised that the spots did hurt more then he had expected, but as he knew, pain told you that at least you where still alive. So he went on, with just a grunt sometimes when his legs scratched the side of the grave.

The silence was deep when Langredoc suddenly realised that the man digging on the other side of the grave was totally focussed on moving the ground out of the dig, his eyes lost in the darkness of the ground, a clear sign of uneasyness, somehow Langredoc could not bringhimself to break the silence so when the grave was deep enough he climbed out of it, and took what was left of his cloak. He looked down on the man and said.

"Wait here, I go and collect the remains. It won't take long."

While he walked to the charred remains of the young man he suddenly felt old for his young age. He pondered how many times before had he buried people, it was worse when it was a friend. For now it was just .... someone.

When he reached the place the smell of burned flesh was still strong and Langredocs stomage turned over.. twice. It reminded him of some Red Warrior burrials, but those where filled with pride over the deeds that the dead person had done. This on the other hand was just a waste, a person who died for nothing, just leaving his yought in the smoke.

The skull and skeletal remains still expressed somehow the fear and terror that the man had felt before death collected his soul. Eyesockets like deep gaping craters with hints of flesh and charred teeth still open in a endless scream of dispair.

Langredoc slowly collected the burned remains into the cloak, bone for sharred bone, starting with the man's skull. And when he was finaly finished searching he was thankful that he was unable to watch the accusing bones anymore.

With the wrapped remains he returned to Dranlen to place it in the grave. Suddenly he wondered if the spirit of the man could have escaped his doomed body in this magical place.... He felt a shiver deep inside him.

[Michel Carbonneau]

Michel listened carefully to sergeant Cleyden. It seemed that he had stepped onto the man's rather large toes. He had to handle this with tact, the sergeant was a good man. Michel could trust him. When the man was finished talking, Michel got off of his horse, and stood right in front of the sergeant. His look was stern and he remained silent for a couple of flickers. But then a large smile appeared on his face and he layed his hand on Cleyden's shoulder. "James, I'm sorry, but I can't grant you that request. I need you too damn hard. You're right. It's just that I don't trust these woods. I've stood face to face with this demon and I don't trust her." He sighed, nodding in agreement. "Go ahead with the rituals, but make sure there are a couple of men extra around at all times. You never know what kind of magic will come from the Nether. I've been summoned by the King, so I shall go back to camp to prepare. I trust that you will take care of things here."

To Langredoc he nodded in agreement to his request. "Sergeant Cleyden will tell you what to do."

[Brytan]

Brytan settled on the ground, resting from his injuries for moments, only to get up several burns later to stretch a little. He was never easy just sitting down, especially when there were a lot of people around to bump into him or do other potentially more harmfull things, so as soon as he felt rested he got up and moved to the front of the line, where less people stood.

The fire still scorched the air, moving deeper into the forest to reveal the charred remains of what was once the edge of the woods of Taquar. He noticed Langredoc going into the debris to gather the remains of the child they had attempted to save. He turned his head. He didn't feel like praying at the moment.

In the front lines the heat might be more intense, but there was more freedom of movement. He rather spent time in the open than in the confines of the rows and rows of soldiers who were loitering all around him, waiting for new orders. Brytan was a man who liked to be alone, alone in the dark. Perusing the streets of Roque, looking for an easy mark, scowering the shadows for that one opening to great wealth. He had yet to find it, but he was bent on striking big when he got back to the city he grew up in.

He looked over to their captain, who was exchanging words with his subordinates. Somehow the role of the leader appealed to Brytan, and on the other hand it appaled him, knowing how the leaders of Roque treated the common man. "If I would lead, I'd be fair. Not like those bloody nobles with their would-be king attitudes."

For now though, his plans for the future were much more short term. As he gazed at the tempest of fire raging over the forest he could only hope that the next body to fall between shadow and flame wouldn't be his.

[Gavin Tylvan]

Cleyden nodded once and said nothing. Sadness was gone from his features and he jumped to obey Captain's orders. Men were scuttling about and soon a ragged line of archers stood before the Pax Honestus lines. Eyes watching the forest and the retreating fire. Ready for the foe to come. A woman amongst them. With Sergeant's stripes. Obeyed by all. Obeyed for nothing. No enemy came.

The earth was soft. Easy to dig. There were a lot of rains that yahren. A bit lower would be even easier to dig, but Dranlen chose a nice spot. Sun would shine on Dereck's tombstone and the grave had a view the boy would have enjoyed if he were still alive. A small creek meandered through a small valley between a pair of hills. It clear waters now murky from ash and soot, but sure to be clean once the fire ran its course.

By the time they were done, almost half a mark has passed. Flames moved on. Trees still stood. Their leaves were gone. Nothing remained of the undergrowth. The trunks still remained. The devastation was great, but not complete. Ashes covered the ground in a thick layer and the wind already blew them up. A grey cloud followed the flames in the distance, almost obscuring the conflagration. Each step Langredoc made rose a small cloud of light ashes. Each step brought him closer to Dereck's body. Or what remained of it. A small pile marked the spot. Some charred bones. unrecognizable lump of steel. Nothing more.

The remains were surprisingly light. It was no problem to lift them up. Gathering them into the cloak was a much larger problem. Bones crumbled under Langredoc's touch. In the end he did manage to gather them up and wrap them tightly. To some digging so large a hole for what little was left might seem foolish. Soldier's moved out of mercenary's way as he carried the boy in his arms. By the time he got there, a crowd gathered. How many of those there actually knew the boy was a mystery. All the faces showed sadness and sorrow. This was a funeral.

A priest came from somewhere. A tall man, dressed in leather armor. White tabard over it. An ornate mace hanging from his belt. "Purificatio." Came a whisper. All the priest did was approach the grave and say a short prayer. A little bit of something to send Dereck's soul to Dominicus. There was no greater glory than to die fighting in His name. As soon as the silent prayer was over men scattered. Grave made them uneasy. Dereck's fate was a bad omen.

After that they could only wait. Marks passed without much excitement. Men assigned to watch the forest soon grew bored. Nothing came out of the flames. Even the fire was a bright glow on the horizon after a while. Only a single grave remained to remind them of the danger. Of the lethality. A horn sounded. The signal to move out. Orders were issued all along the line. Army of Light was on the move. Sergeant Cleyden simply glanced at his Captain, his body taut. Waiting for orders. A grin on his face.

[Dranlen]

As the brief service progressed Dranlen wondered how many more would fall before this war was finished. He suspected not a few, but then he was alive now and the beauty of this spot, unspoilt except perhaps for the blackened water that carried the ash on its last journey was a fitting resting place for one so young. The priest had been brief as though the rest of the army wished the incident over and the passing of one life to be forgotten as if it meant nothing in the scheme of things. Perhaps in time Dranlen would too grow callous at the loss and waste of young lives, for now though he shed a small tear at the thought that this young warrior had a mother and and father who would weep when they realised that their son would never cross their threshold again.

Once the rest had left Dranlen picked up the shovel and filled in the grave wondering what the next few hours and days would bring. The fire was burning quickly and he thought that by tomorrow they would be marching into the Taquar itself, finishing the work they had started with the sword.

"What next ?" he spoke out loud, to Langredoc if he stayed and helped, to himself if not.

[Langredoc]

Langredoc waited patiently but a tat out of reach while the priest prayed at the grave. His feelings where that these people where a bit ignorant... a thing proven by the fact that nobody offered to help. Mercenaries never know when they die, and thats why they life and die together. Some groups would turn into friends, until they split up to serve new masters on new battlegrounds. But these people only served their ....God, and clearly never remembered the fact that serving started by themselves. A grim smile appeared shortly on his face, to disappear just as fast when pain remembered him about the blisters.

Just before he started to fill the whole with earth, he dropped a coin in the grave.. just to be sure that the boy could pay the ferry man. Not that Langredoc really believed in that. it was more to show that at least someone cared about it. A quick glance at Bryton and Dranlen had made it clear to him that those also cared in their own way. Something that made them different from the others, something that could make a difference in the future. Especially as far as it went for Langredoc, because he had decided that he would leave this bunch as soon as he had a chance. His shovel together with Dranlen's pushed the earth back the hole, covering the pitiful remains.

"What next ?" Dranlen said.

"I would like to leave a sign on the grave with the name of the boy." Langredoc said.

A gut feeling came up in Langredoc.... something that told him that life was about to change.

Softly he said to Dranlen "I think that we better get our stuff, and prepare. I have a bad feeling about today."

And he walked away to quickly dump the shovel at the cart and to retrieve his backpack. His eyes scouted the environment... maybe the spirit of the boy was still lingering around.

[Dranlen]

"I would like to leave a sign on the grave with the name of the boy...I think that we better get our stuff, and prepare. I have a bad feeling about today."

Dranlen knew that a marker was required, perhaps a stone from the stream bed, it seemed unlikely they could find any unburnt wood from the forest any more.

Turning to Langredoc he replied, "Perhaps a small stone marker, I do not think we should delay either, who knows what we shall face soon, it seems unnatural enough that the forest should burn so readily and I think we should return to the lines fairly quickly else the captain chooses to think we dawdle about the task he set. Do we know the lads name though?"

[Langredoc]

Langredoc shook his head slowly.

"No, I do not know his name....."

Inside his head he drylee added. The dead have no name except when you grant them one..

His eyes saw horses of the nobility, he would love to have one and be gone from here, This place would be stained with death sooner or later he concluded again.

"I think that the fire shall be the least of our problems soon enough Dranlen and then all the people here shall depend on each other to stay alive."

And although he did not say so, his eyes told that he doubted the ability of the "people" to depend on each other.

A horse would make it easyer to leave this place. Some of the guys are ok, but this is not my war. Well, nothing wrong with walking.... just wait for the right moment to leave. It always comes.

Langredoc grinned shortly, that what directly would probably make him stronger. But he would give a lot for a change of place. The sailors who told him about the entertainment in the Mouth, where not talking about this...

[Michel Carbonneau]

After he had given the orders Michel realized that the Dinner would be quite some marks away. Instead of going to the camp already, he decided to stay with his troops until they had buried the boy.

Even after that there was nothing to do, nothing happened. That was a pleasant surprise on one hand, on the other, it was deeply worrying. When the horn sounded, Michel looked back at his sergeant and nodded. "Let's move out sergeant. Let's see what our next move in this war will be."

[Gavin Tylvan]

"Sergeants, move 'em out. Keep the line and keep your eyes opened." THe voice of Sergeant Cleyden boomed across the field. It was echoed by the voices of three Sergeants in charge of the Pax Honestus companies. August Darmuss, the man in charge of the light troops of the legion steped forward with a silent: "Follow me, men." He was the one who commanded Dranlen, Langredoc and Brytan. For all his sickly appearance he moved fairly sure and a ragged line moved after him.

It took them mere flickers to reach the edge of the forest. The area where the edge was mere marks before. All that remained now were some charred tree trunks and a lot of ash. Heat still emanated from the ground, making the men sweat. Ashes disturbed by their footsteps clung to their moist skin and made them itch. Soon, their throats were parched, but the Sergeant marched onward, seemingly oblivious to the hardships. The front of the line was a bit better than the rest.

Horses were reluctant to enter the ashen cloud. It took quite a bit of urging by the mounted soldiers surrounding Michel to make them go onward. After a while though, they grew lethargic and walked onward without complaint. Conversation was sparse. Soon the men were coughing and sputtering. It was not an easy task. On and on they marched as the sun sank in the west, while the fire still lit the northern sky.

It was almost dark when the horn sounded again. This time Cleyden did not wait for Captain's order. "Ha......" His voice failed as the Sergeant Major coughed. "Halt. We set the camp here. Set up defensive perimeter and guard rotation. Take no chances." Walking to his Captain, Cleyden saluted. "Captain, I think we can handle this. Do you have any specific orders? Where would you like your tent set up?" Dreylen shoulders were sagged. His face was covered in ashes and his breathing heavy. It was a hard day for him too.

In the meantime, Darmuss was issuing orders. Fairly simple ones. Tents were to be erected in a circle. And sharpened poles would be used to make a barricade of sorts aroun the camp. It was not very efective, but it was a protection of sorts. Soon, the entire legion was busy. Someone found a couple of brooms and a few of the soldiers were busy sweeping the ashes away. While at first it made the rebathing more dificult after a couple of burn it was apparent it was a wise move. Walking through the camp did not raise the ashes in the air. It made it easier to breathe.

OOC: Brytan, Dranlen and Langredoc, please post your actions and have a bit of fun. Fill the 5 marks of the voyage as you wish. I will hold my next post a bit for reasons I would like to keep secret.

Michel when you are ready please proceed to this thread here

[Dranlen]

It was sad that the lad had no name to add to his marker, perhaps one day someone would find his grave and grieve for him properly.

"I think that the fire shall be the least of our problems soon enough Dranlen and then all the people here shall depend on each other to stay alive."

Langredoc's words were probably true he reflected and there was no doubt that they would need to stick together in the forthcoming days and weeks. He did not wish to impose himself upon the foreigner and yet he knew that to make friends, or rather companions would be a start. He was not sure how to phrase what he wished to put but knew that to include Brytan in their small group would not be a bad thing, though he was unsure of the mans temperament. Looking at Langredoc squarely and sharing a glance to Brytan he spoke quietly.

"Perhaps we three should watch each others back then, for the night might bring something if we are dealing with the nether."

Soon they were commanded to trample through the ash ridden forest, being amongst the light troops had an advantage in that they were seemingly ahead of the rest of the regiment and not eating quite as much dust, though so fine was it they were soon coated. Its acrid nature was not lost on the young man and he soon stopped to place a mask over his face, allowing him to breathe filtered air through the cloth. This did not stop all the effects but he hoped it would help. Certainly speaking as they drifted through the silent and eerie forest would be foolish and he contented himself with trying to stay close to his companions, watching where the feet had trod ahead of him and thereby trying to reduce the amount of ash raised.

"

[Langredoc]

Langredoc was wrapping a piece of cloth around his mouth before he would put back his helmet over his head. The movement of the officers had already told him that they would move on. So better be prepared,

Dranlan said "Perhaps we three should watch each others back then, for the night might bring something if we are dealing with the nether."

Langredoc nodded towards the man called Dranlen while putting on his backpack, and automatical checking if his weapons where ready for use.

"Sergeants, move 'em out. Keep the line and keep your eyes opened.", the booming voice called forth memories of simular events. He sighed, some things never changed.

He fell in line near Dranlen waiting until Brytan did the same.
He had not much to say, the ash making sure that any communication would end in couching and with his sore throat it was a small hell. So he was not much of a talker.

His gut feeling still told him that something was coming, he just did not know when. The ash was good way to sneak up on the army but too hard to fight in. No it would be later when the army was less aware he concluded.

After several marks... several depressing marks until the sun mercifully started to hide the features of the abused wood the order was given to make camp.

He said to Dranlen and Bryton, "Lets make sure that we are in the same guard round. Then we have also the same sleeping and eating rounds.. And get some sleep if you can..."

Then he searched for a barely clean spot to sleep. He hated to sleep in a tent, and normally he would sleep below a tree or in front of his masters... lords tent. He preferred to watch the stars, and his leather sleeping bag was well protected against rain.

So he did his chores and as every experienced soldier he went to sleep after that.... He was gone in a flicker. But in his dreams the forrest was still burning, faces showed and voice's where heard. It was not a comfortable sleep.

[Gavin Tylvan]

It was not that simple. A few clumps of trees that survived by some miracle were already taken by other legions. No trees remained. Just sad blackened spears reaching into the sky as if pleading for mercy. Dinner was served. Cold mutton and bread. There was not enough firewood to cook a decent meal. Officers got some for their tent and that was it. Wagons were sent back to get more, but they would not be back before morning.

Not much rest was awarded. A corporal soon came and pointed at Dranlen and Langredoc. "You two. You are on guard duty for the first three mark. Get your kits and take up position to the north. Right about there." He pointed to an area roughly to the north of their current position where a small clump of trees remained. A wind was picking up, bringing with it fresh ash. Half a mark later it was more of a gale. Were it not for the darkness, swirling clouds of grey dust would be visible. It did not stung as much as it did before. Ground was not so warm as before, and the ash obscured the light of the flames in the distance.

Brytan was left alone for now. The Corporal did come to him. "You get some more rest, lad. Your watch starts in three marks. It is in that clump of trees." You will share your watch with Cryden over here. He's a good lad. A bit silent, but good." A short boy of some twenty or so yahren stood close buy. Short cropped dark hair and eyes as black as coals. Cryden offered a simple nod as a greeting as Corporal left and sat down next to Brytan. A shy smile and he was already falling a sleep.[hr][/hr]
Mere luck saved her. Stupid Orcs. Fancy a bit of human romp, do you. Well, you won't romp anything ever again. So, she ran. Screams followed her into the night as the dark one discovered the failure of her servants. Laendral ran. Ran for her life. She managed to escape. For a while.

She sat under a tree trying to catch her breath when that thing emerged from the bushes. Too silent for an orc. It looked like an orc, but it was too fast. It died like an orc too. an arrow through its heart. Once more she ran. Into the falling night. Only the night never fell. Fire? Here? How? Why? They caught up with her then once more. Laendral ran again. Into the fire. Out through the other side. Luckily it was dying by then. Wind blowing the ashes from the desolate plain to the south. Ashes killing the fire that gave birth to them. Irony?

[Langredoc]

Out of habit Langredoc woke up when feet approached the place where he was resting. Serving a cruel lord did something to people, and it had made Langredoc a very light sleeper. The knife hidden in his sleeve stayed where it was when the voice spoke but his eyes flickered open to see where the place was where guy was talking about.

"You two. You are on guard duty for the first three mark. Get your kits and take up position to the north. Right about there."

It was a corporal barking... nothing unusual in a army so Langredoc jawned and started to prepare to carry out the orders. He stuffed everything back in his backpack, you never know, maybe he could leave the army sooner then expected. But until then he would carry out his duties, that was after all a matter of trust. So he picked up some food as well, maybe he was lucky and could use the guardduty to east relaxed and peacefully like so many times before.

Langredoc licked his lips and the taste of ashes made him quickly decide to place a new piece of cloth in front of his face before he moved out to the place he was supposed to stand guard. he threw a glance at Dranlen to make sure that the man went out as well when he moved towards the clump of tree's.
Soon after arrived a gale of ash was making sure that darkness was not the only obstacles to their vision.

If I was an elf and i wanted to attack, this would be the time. We are severely handicapped by the darkness and the ash flying around.

The thought made him tense, he had had feelings like this in the past and although he had been wrong it had always been a bonus when he had been right. So he placed his backpack out of the way while he tried to see through the ash filled darkness.

"If there will be a attack, this shall be the time..." Langredoc whispered to Dranlen. "Keep your eyes open. And if something happens, stick together, man alone is a dead man."

I bet that I am tense for nothing again... but he rather used some more energy and a peaceful meal then being a bloody corpse in a pile of ashes. So his hands rested on his weapon and the man was like a cat prepared to pounce.

And not for the fist time he wished that he was far far away from this place...And the idea of fighting Elves was even less appealing to him as ever.

[Dranlen]

Unlike Langredoc, sleep had been difficult to find and was fitful at best. Though conscious of the corporal's shouted command he was slowly to respond than his apparently sleeping companion beside him.

Like Langredoc though he did change the piece of cloth he had used to filter the air to his mouth, but he wondered where he would get many more clean pieces from as it seemed the ash was everywhere, cloying sticking to everything.

He thought back to an outbreak in his village and a mask a healer had used once. With ties round the back of the head it seemed to have a far snugger fit than his current mask, he wondered whether they would have time to perhaps fabricate such a thing, though he would need to locate some thread and string.

He copied Langredoc's, wondering initially why he did so, but realised the wisdom when the army might move at any moment and if on guard duty it would be unlikely that anyone would collect their belongings for them, this was a regiment, used to organisation but encumbered with so many raw recruits it had become more of a rabble he suspect. There had been no drills, no training no practices it was expected that each man fend for himself it seemed rather than fight as a unit.

He followed Langredoc closely, wary of stepping on others as they moved to their assigned post, wondering whom they would be relieving.

Langredoc's words caught him by suprise, and he realised that he had not really woken yet as the words made it slowly into his conscious mind.

"If there will be a attack, this shall be the time...Keep your eyes open. And if something happens, stick together, man alone is a dead man."

The advice was well given, but Dranlen wondered whom they would face, should any come. After a pause he replied as his mind started to work and he realise he had taken in little of the corporal's words. He responded to Langredoc equally quietly:

"Did he say there were scouts out or a password, I agree we should stay close. We won't be able to see far, and the ash will muffle any footfalls, but perhaps between us we will get fair warning of anything."

The short walk had woken Dranlen, and though he suspected he would tire later, probably suffering in the morning until he became used to this, he was eager enough for the adrenaline of something new to be vigilant and take in as much as he could.

He looked to Langredoc for advice in terms of where they should go, he suggested that they be within sight of one another, though on this dark night he wondered whether that would be possible. He resolved to stand for the watch, at least initially for sitting would cause sleep to come on him too much, and he knew that he could not afford to fall asleep for his own, or his companion's sake.

[Langredoc]

"Did he say there were scouts out or a password, I agree we should stay close. We won't be able to see far, and the ash will muffle any footfalls, but perhaps between us we will get fair warning of anything."

Dranlen's words actually woke up some thoughts that where bothering Langredoc. He moved in between what was left over from the huge tree's., hanging his backpack from the ground on a leftover branch so it would be out of the way. Then he watched the surroundings to find the best viewing spot.

No scouts, probably because nobody knows how the area looks like. And those who know wont recognize it after the fire... This does not really look like a army, its a religious mob.

After a few quick thoughts about running off in a unknown country where he probably would be killed by the Adhiel because he was a human and so probably a invader. He just concentrated on watching the shadows. Realising that he should respond to Dranlen's words he reluctantly replied in a tuned down voice.

"Well, scouts normally know the environment they are in. Nobody is used to ash and and fire I guess. And about the ash, soon enough in a few marks darkness shall come. And combined with the ashes it shall mean that we wont see anything. So we better search for some left over branches and make tripwood. So at least we hear it when someone comes before there are standing for our nose. Besides that we better stay in between these stumps, all stories tell about how well those Adhiel use their bows. Lucky for us everything here has the same colour, ash grey and black, even us. So if you don't move, or talk, nobody normal would be able to detect you..."

Langredoc rubbed his chin...normally it was shaven but now it started to be rugged. Not that showed under the layer of ash. He took out the food and water and started to eat. Always sleep or eat..you never know when you can do it again.

"We can talk, but keep your voice as low as possible and directed at me, preverable whispering. I really have a bad feeling about the coming night and that makes me .....jumpy. Did you bring the food and water as well Dranlen ? "

His eyes scanned the surroundings in a futile effort to know them before darkness would come in. Foodholds enough, but nobody could know what was hidden below those piles of ashes and behind the clouds that carried them. His eyes allready started to burn because of the ashes and he used some of the water to wash them.

[Brytan]

Brytan was gratefull for the moment peace he had been offered and took it gratefully. Still a bit sore from the burns he acknowledged Cryden shortly before watching him go to sleep.

He himself wouldn't sleep. Instead he watched as the army inched forward between the charred remains of the already burned strip of vegetation before him. The clump of trees he would stand watch in standing miraculously between the charred remnants of the once proud forest.

In his moments of peace he took a little time for some reflection upon the past few tides. He had always been but a common boy, born from common blood and raised in a loving home where he learned an honest trade from his father and was nurtured through childhood by his mother. Now, he sat between the scarred stumps which would remind the land of the war which had engulfed it now. He had seen death and stared it in the face twice in two tides now and he was certain there was more yet to come. His faith was tested more than ever before and he found that his skills had been of little use against the forces of the Nether and those of the Tether so far. His daggers would not pierce the shadows nor cut the branches falling around him. His skill at crafting leather was nothing compared to the abilities of the warriors around him.

Doubt flooded his mind.

He had always been so focussed on making a better life for himself through mischief that he had ommited the fact that the world around him wasn't merely overcome by sculking and backstabbing. More than once now he had seen that either brute force or strong persuasion were required if combat was to be triumphed.

He would have to see which would suit him best.

As his watch came up, watching the sun as it moved in the heavens above, he nudged Cryden. "Time for our watch, let's get to our post shall we? Don't wanna tick off the brass."

[Gavin Tylvan]

Time literally dragged through the night. Flickers were as long as burns. Burns were turning into marks. Marks into tides. The wind obscured all the sounds. Whistling past the guard spot Dranlen and Langredoc shared. Nothing disturbed the night. No movements. No sounds. Just the wind whistling past them. Moon came out a bit later. It was a weak little thing, thought it did light the area a little. Mostly it made the devastation visible, showing al the pitiful trees still reaching for the skies.[hr][/hr]Laendral ran. Ashes burned her lungs and stung her eyes. She kept running. Each time the girl turned orcs ame closer. She was losing the race. She was running out of arrows. It was hard to hit anything at a run and she dared not stop and aim. The prey did manage to strike a few of the hunters, but they were too many. In the long run it mattered not. They were gaining. Wind carried the voices. Was she halucinating?[hr][/hr]Brytan could not have chosen a better moment to awake Cryden. As soon as the boy stirred, Corporal came trudging through the ranks. “Get ready and get going.” Hissing the command the man set out to find the rest of those assigned as guard. The night was getting cold. Very cold. No fires burned. Soldiers slept as merry sounds escaped the King’s tent. Light still burned there. The officers were having fun. They cared not for how pitiful the troops were.

The guard post was not far. Maybe two hundred paces away from the edge of the camp. It was a small clump of trees that somehow managed to escape almost intact. One side of them was charred and they lacked a bunch of leaves, but they still stood. Cryden carried a bow and a long knife at his belt and chewed something from under his mask as the pair walked. He was a silent lad. Very silent. It was quite possible to mask their approach if they chose to.

A pair approaching from the camp was visible, outlined as they were against the light from the camp. One only needed to look back instead of the front where they were supposed to. It was not till they got within some ten or so paces from the clump that Cryden yelled. “SHIT!” Pausing for a flicker the silent boy made a run for the trees. Figures were moving in the distance. They were just silhouettes. Barely visible. Running for the camp. A dozen or so of them. One of them, the smallest of the lot was a bit to the front. Moonlight flashed from the metal of their gear. No sounds yet. Just the whistling of the wind.

This thread is as of now impassable, due to a mortal danger. Have fun gentlemen.

[Langredoc]

A yawn was quickly suppressed by Langredoc. Tiredness was hanging around his shoulders like a heavy coat. No words where spoken between him and Dranlen anymore since the start of their duty. Sadly enough the man did not fall asleep so Langredocs plan of sneaking out failed by that.

He sighed, while his eyes followed the next false alarm, he got a bit annoyed by the feeling that something was amiss while this was clearly the most boring guard duty he ever had.

Watching the remnants om a once flourishing forest was worse actually then the long winter nights that he had guarded the tent of his lord. Listening to the laughing of the girls inside, while the smells of food made his stomach rumble.

His stomach did actually rumble at that point, so he remembered that he had not eaten before, and now the ashes and dust seemed to settle and give way to a littlebit of moonshine he just stuffed some of the food in his mouth. It was still a bit ashtasting, but at least it filled his stomach. He used a bit of water to wash it down. While he licked his lips he concluded that although it smelled awfully the ointment of the healer did actually work.

Then his eyes returned to watching the movements and the shadows. If somebody would appear.... then he would get it.... Langredoc was really tense and annoyed. Nothing seemed to go his way lately.

He squeezed his swordhandle in frustration. He had hoped that he could join a cavalry unit or just travel around, or guard a trader. But this had not been on the list. It would not help him in improving his weapon skills, and if these religious nuts would find out of his background he could even get into a fight with people he really did not want to fight.

He spat some ashesh out of his mouth. This army had even no women hanging around to watch. And so far not Byron or Dranlen seemed to be steaming with fun.... With a quick shake of his shoulders he took the sword out of its scabbard, to start to clean it up. Ash everywhere. He smiled bitterly, his face would probably be a funny sight at the moment, all covered in black ashes. The only advantage that probably would see him, nor recognize him for that matter.