Wraith Recon- The Lorn Initiative

[Asbestos]

With the Dracolich attack still fresh in the Kingdom's collective mind, things are especially busy underneath Fort Brazen. The SpellCom agents that fill the halls, be they apprentices, guards, or those privy to the awesome power of the Omniciex, seem to carry out their duties with an even greater urgency and determination. Within the barracks a handful of Wraiths anxiously await their first assignment.

Having spent months training with access to the best equipment, components, and teachers that can be found within Dardarrick, and perhaps even Nuera, the members of Wraith Recon Four have finally graduated to the rank of Wraith. During the course of their time as Wraith Recruits they have been constantly at each other's sides. They have eaten every meal together, trained together, and have shared a cramped dormitory every night. Currently they are in that dormitory room packing up their gear and personal belongings as they prepare to move into their new, larger, room. This one has separate beds instead of bunks! Ah, to no longer be a recruit.

Suddenly there is a knock on the door frame and a SpellCom apprentice can be seen standing in the open door. She brings herself quickly to attention before delivering her message.
"Sirs, you are to meet with the Wraith Commander in Briefing Room Two in fifteen minutes. He says there is no need to gear up for this first."
With that, she is gone just as quickly as she arrived, rushing off to some other task.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Lance del Mer nodded at the apprentice.
"Roger that, transmission recieved and understood." he said in a calm, smooth voice, which did a wonderful job of disguising what was going through his head"
"Oh, boy! Finally!"
He checked the contents of his pack, rope, grappling hook, journeybread. It was all there, stowed in an impossibly neat and methodical fashion. The Dardarrick military had taught him a few things, that was for sure.
"Alright, everyone, don't rush, we have fifteen minuetes, makes sure you all look good." he joked even as he, himself, went to examine himself in the full-length mirror by his rack.
The splotchy, camoflauge-esque pattern was pressed to perfection, looking like he had spent hours on it, geting every last wrinkle and crease perfect. Magic was amazing like that. He nudged the small pin he had designating himself as the squad leader a bit with a simple cantrip, and smiled.

His short, high-and-tight haircut was mostly a pale blonde, pratically white as his skin, with nothing but the tips showing through in bright green anymore. It was shadar-kai fashion to go with the bright adornments and colour, it was Wraith Recon fashion to go natural or black. Lance opted for natural. It still made im stand out in the crowds here.

Content with his appearance, Lance travelled back to his rackand grabbed a small, deep purple orb he kept on a chain and slipped it around his neck and affixed the omnilens he was issued over the pure, almost molten black left eye and let his dagger practically glide itself into the sheath at the small of his back.

He was ready, more or less, even geared up in a way that wasn't reuired but just so easy for him that not doing so would be dowright negligent.
He moved towards the door.
"Remember: Free magic to make your uniforms sharp, right here."

[Shular]

Hearing Lance, Spike looks down at his own, armor, and shrugs. The magic chain was plenty sturdy, and if a little food had gotten in between some of the links, what did it matter? He chuckles to himself, well, we're supposed to be undercover, he thinks, so might as well look the part of an adventurer.

Double checking to make sure everything is in place, Spike considers his spiked chain for a moment, then carefully drapes it over his shoulders. He just feels too naked witout it to leave it behind.

Satisfied, he straightens out to his full 7'7" height, his bald head barely clearing the ceiling. He rubs his hands in anticipation. "Finally," he says to nobody in particular, "we'll get some action. By the time we're done with them, those undead will wish they'd never died!"

[NecroRebel]

As is usual for the swordmage when not on duty, Hymn wears plainclothes under her cloak, which is wrapped to mostly conceal her face. And as always, her sword is strapped to her waist directly opposite her dagger, the only thing that truly gives away that she is more than a human desert woman. As Lance offers to make their uniforms more suitable, she snorts in affectionate derision. "Your arrogance never ceases to amaze me, Lance; why, you think your own magics are so superior to our own that we would beg for you to use them on us!"

She brushes a few nonexistent specks of dirt from her sleeve, before continuing, "I doubt the Commander will much care even if we're not entirely presentable. He's seen us in much worse condition than we are now, especially during some of the nastier training session."

[Zorzark]

Neely was leaning over her bag, her white hair tied back to keep it from falling in her eyes. She looked up, a half-eaten cookie dangling from her mouth. The rat clinging to her back snatched the cookie away as she started to speak.

"I'll take it." She pulled on the sleeve of her uniform, which looked like it was regularly abused by a rat climbing up and down it. She stood up and took the cookie back from her familiar. "Could you clean the rat while you're at it?"

[Korrash]

"Oh come now Hymn, if the man wants to pretty himself up for the Commander like a bar-wench looking to earn extra tips let him be."

Mai'lana offered a playful wink from where she sat on her new bed, not even letting the opportunity to banter with her squad mates distract her from neatly coiling her climbing rope.

Even as she spoke she saw full well the irony of her teasing, since everything she wore from the black leather armor that left skin showing on the shoulders and hips to the white bandana tied about her bald head to even the way she had positioned her sword belts crossing each other at her lower back was designed to make her look good just as much as they were designed to offer protection and practicality. After all, she was a genasi, and adhered strongly to the tradition of wearing clothing to accent the dark blue szuldar lines that networked her sea-green flesh.

Truth be told the banter was all she could do to keep herself steady in anticipation of the upcoming briefing. They had really made it, they had survived the training and beaten out other aspirants, they had lived, eaten, and slept as a team and now they were Wraiths. The very concept was staggering, as before the loftiest ambition 'Lana had was to maybe be first mate on a trade ship.

Spurred on by such thoughts the self-appreciating smirk she had been wearing tore open to a grin as she finally added, "Besides, we've been looking crummy through most of our training and will probably end up looking worse throughout some of the missions to come, why not look good while we still can?"

[Thanatos 51-50]

"Not better, Hymn, simply more suited for the task at hand." Lnace corrected the Deva in a mock-lecturing tone even as his fingers traced the patterns in the air to clean Neely's garb and groom her pet rat
He paid no attenion to the Gensai's barmaid comment, well aware of the fact that she was wearing some form-accenting gear, herself.
"I'm thinking we head there in formation, but we could move as a kind of pudding or whatever, since we'll be trying to get 'in character' or what-have-you." Lance suggests, and steps outside the barracks moving at a brisk pace towards the briefing room.
He'll automatically fall into step with any party members who form up with him.

[Zorzark]

Neely gave a quick nod of thanks to Lance.

"It's less like he's a bar maid and more like he's everyone's butler," she mused. "Or maid, if we want to stick with the feminine."

She carefully removed the rat from her shoulder, not wanting to muss her fresh uniform, and plopped it on the ground. It stuck to her heels even as she trotted to catch up with the leader and step into formation.

"So why are we a pudding? What flavor? What character?" She quirked her head. Her eyes might have been downcast in thought, but Eladrin gazes are by nature hard to follow.

[Shular]

"I like chocolate," Spike says. He hasn't really been paying attention to the banter of the others, but pudding and flavor caught his attention. He takes one last look at his bed. If I never have to sleep in one of those bunks again, he thinks to himself, it'll be too soon.

Spike "falls in" behind Lance, taking short, quick strides to keep pace with the others.

[Thanatos 51-50]

"We're the best damn' pudding out there, obviously!" Lance joked as his team-mates join him. "And I am also partial to chocolate, there, Spike." he smiles, subtly waving his hands through the air and cleaning the crumbs out of the guy's armour.
"You all ready for this?"

[NecroRebel]

Hymn nods, humming her assent, and moves to wait for the rest by the door. She's used to taking point in many of the team's training sessions that require more finesse than Spike usually manages, so even when there isn't likely to be danger the Deva still tends to walk in front.

[Korrash]

Mai'lana offers a curt nod and says "Ready and willing sir." With this she falls into place beside Lance, use to being in position in case further ranged support was needed, relying on her mobility to get herself into the fray otherwise. Yes it was just a meeting, but old habits die hard, or forgetting old habits gets you killed.

[Asbestos]

The team heads down the halls towards the briefing rooms. SpellCom apprentices dodge and weave past the Wraiths as they scurry from room to room, doors being opened just enough to let them squeeze inside before being shut quickly behind them. Next to nearly every door stands a SpellCom guard, or Shield as they are known.

The door to Briefing Room Two is currently guarded by a dragonborn in well-crafted and gleaming full plate armor, his faintly-glowing greatsword drawn as he stands at attention. He nods towards Lance, steps to the side, and opens the door for the team to enter. He quickly shuts the door as the last Wraith enters.

The briefing room has the same standard layout as always, two long tables with six chairs behind each of them, facing a wall of easels and maps. Pulled forward and centered several feet in front of the first table is a large, detailed map of the city of Eastermarck and the surrounding farmland.

With the door closed the briefing room is eerily silent, with its magically soundproofed walls (and door) and magical torches the only sources of noise are the Wraiths themselves as they pull out chairs and arrange themselves, waiting for the Wraith Commander.

[Asbestos]

After a few minutes, and right on cue for those Wraiths that have been keeping track of the time, the door once again opens as Commander Ruhrk enters the room. He is dressed almost exactly as a Legionary Captain (equivalent of a Colonel) in the Dardarrian Ground Corps, save for the Wraith skull insignia on his right arm and the lack of the indigo tabard emblazoned with Dardarrick's royal star. While the wrinkles on his face and the gray hairs in his beard give him away as a dwarf on the wrong side of middle aged, the Commander carries himself with more strength and confidence than many soldiers half his age.

He steps in front of the tables and addresses the team.

"Wraiths, this is it, your first mission, I know you've all been waiting anxiously to finally get out into the field and do your job and now you've got your chance. You've been assigned to do reconnaissance here" - he says with a finger pointed towards the map of Eastermarck - "around the ruins of Eastermarck."

"We need you to head into those fields and get a good idea of how many walking corpses we have over there, we'd also like to know what sort of undead are out there. Those Lornish bastards dropped that dracolich on us almost three months ago and we still have newly dead, and undead, washing up on the shores of the Dawn and Fisherlane. Something isn't right, Wraiths."

"Now this might sound like a job for the regular army but we can't risk soldiers attracting those undead things back into a populated area. The Air Cav is out for the same reason, don't need zombies trying to follow the pegasus' right back to Graenwich!"

"I think this is the perfect mssion for you to cut your teeth on, easy in, easy out. No heroics, no sad letters to your folks - he glances at Hymn- or whatever you might have back home."

"We'll have the Air Cav drop you off here- he points to an area about fifty miles west from the Dawn River crossing- The Air Cav will think you're VIPs headed for Sentinel Keep. Once you get dropped off you can get to where we need you in a few days at a brisk pace if you head straight along this road- he points again to the map, drawing his finger along the road that leads towards Eastermarck- and cross the Dawn at this bridge." - he taps at the river crossing.

"This isn't time sensitive, just something the arcanists need done. You can certainly expect to run into undead, especially near Eastermarck and the Dawn River. If you can avoid engaging them, do so, we don't yet know what sort of monsters we can expect out there but we do know there are a lot of them. When we get reports of them, they're normally traveling alone or in small groups, but you don't need a fight attracting even more of them towards you. Also, we've had reports of a death giant out there, you definitely don't want to run into one of those."

"Under no circumstances are you to risk entering Eastermarck proper, that area is a no man's land right now. You go in there and you stand a good chance of never coming back out, at least not with a heartbeat."

"If you have any questions, ask them now, if not, grab your gear and head out. Lance, if you have anything you want to requisition, make sure to see the SpellCom quartermaster before you leave Fort Brazen. And everyone, for the All-Father's sake, make sure you throw your cloaks on, we don't want to attract unwant attention here."

[NecroRebel]

"Hmm..." Hymn hums softly as she examines the map, doing her best to memorize its contents. "If there're still new undead coming out of there, even after all this time, it's fairly sure that someone is animating them on purpose. Shall we try to identify who, and stop them if possible? It'll mean less work for the army when they finally move in if the dead don't walk."

Spoiler

Show

I'm not quite sure what would be an appropriate knowledge for dracoliches, and death giants, so I'm just going to roll arcana, religion, and nature, since they seem most likely.

Arcana - (1d20+10)[15]
Religion - (1d20+7)[18]
Nature - (1d20+1)[11]

[Asbestos]

Commander Rurhk turns to address the charismatically challenged Hymn..."Forget how to say 'Sir', Hymn?"

"Your orders stand. This mission is purely reconnaissance, no heroics. If things change SpellCom will contact Lance through his Omnilens."

Spoiler

Show

Arcana works for the Giant and the Dracolich... you know that one is from the Shadowfell and the other is undead. Religion works for the rest of the undead. Most are created through rituals, but they can also spontaneously arise in areas close to the Shadowfell or suffused with necrotic energy.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Lance glances sidelong at hymn, shooting her his third-most disapproving glare.
Being relativly new, he only really had three glares and none were too strong, so this seems more like a formality than anything else.
"Sir, respectfully, Reconiscence of the source of undead could quite easily be interpreted as within mission parameters." he says quickly, jumping to the defense of his team-mate.
"I'm sure that this is what Wraith Hymn mean to say, and simply stumbled over the words."
Lance immediatly shifts into a 'Parade Rest' and examines the map, commiting every detail possible or that may seem nesecary to memory.
"Do we have an estimated time for boots on the ground? And when should we randevous with Air Cav?"

[Asbestos]

The old dwarf shifts his attention towards the Shadar-kai.

"Excellent questions, Wraith. A flight from the Third Wing Coachmen should be prepped to head out from the Ground's Martial in two hours. Once we get you in the air it should take about three days to reach the drop point. Good thing about the Coachmen is that they're used to carrying around passengers without getting too inquisitive. As for what Wraith Hymn may have meant to say, record everything you see, but you are only to engage if it is unavoidable or if you get orders stating otherwise."

[Shular]

Spike sits in silence, listening carefully. Sounds simple enough, he thinks to himself. He has no illusions of his own stealthiness, of course, and merely views his responsability to be as the muscle for if (when) things go south.

[NecroRebel]

Hymn starts somewhat at the commander's rebuke, then apologizes. "I'm... sorry, sir. I simply meant, as Lance suggested, that finding the source of the undead would be part of our mission, sir."

The deva looks at the map again, making sure she has the details memorized as best she can, then turns back to the group. "If we're to masquerade as VIPs, sir, should we go in plainclothes? While... some of us look the part," she shoots a glance at Lance and Neely, ""Others are probably suited more as bodyguards, which might be looked at askance if we already have a military escort some of the way."

[Zorzark]

"I'm sure you can all pass as VIPs. It just means being less militarily inclined."

Neely glanced at the map casually.

"Sir, when we're done counting heads, how do we return?"

[Asbestos]

The commander nods at Neely's comment and continues to address Lance.

"No need to worry about disguising yourselves for the flying pony ride. Just throw on your cloaks, stash your gear in your magic bags, and you'll be fine. Once your mission is complete, contact Command through your Omnilens and they'll get hold of an Air Cav flight to pick you up at the drop off point." -there is a knock on the door, it sounds not wholly natural, possibly some magical effect allowing communication through the silenced walls. The Commander pauses a moment before continuing- "Now, I'm not here to hold your hand, you've been briefed on as much as you need to know, you're dismissed Wraiths."

He moves towards the door, opens it and slides into the hallway. Wraith members looking after him as he exits catch a glimpse of a regal looking, golden-eyed Eladrin waiting for him in the hall. His pupil-less eyes make it difficult to tell where he is looking, but he seems to give a polite smile towards the Wraiths he can see. As soon as Rurhk is clear of the door the dragonborn guard swiftly closes it.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Lance slides out of the room easily, casting a sidelong glance at the Eladrin, and attempting to analyze who he was for a split second before deciding he's better off not knowing and commences using one of the many cantrips at his disposable to change the coulour pattern of the camoflauge to one more suited for swamp ops, and waits for the rest of his team outside the breifing room to hear their adivce and recomendations for the mission.

[Zorzark]

Neely flitted outside the room and picked up Arcturus. They both stared at Lance with their blank, white eyes.

"Lead the way, leader sir." They both nodded in unison. And then, absentmindedly: "Does everyone like flying?"

[Shular]

As he follows the rest out, Spike shudders at Neely's question. "It's just not natural," he exclaims. "The heights of the mountains are one thing...there's still solid ground beneath your feet. To be so high up, and the only thing between you and a death plummet to be some winged creature stuggling to bear your weight?" The scars on his face become even more pronounced as he pales in his contemplations.

[Zorzark]

"You could always ask for two," she smiled at the mental image. "Although it's true. If you fall, I don't think anyone can catch you."

[NecroRebel]

"Regardless of whether we like flying or not, I doubt that the arcanists would be pleased if we decided to walk," Hymn sighs as she joins the others. "Even if the mission isn't time-sensitive, they'll still want it done sooner than later."

[Asbestos]

Having packed and exited Fort Brazen, the Wraiths assembled on the Ground's Martial. While they, in their cloaks and drab earth colors, surely seemed out of place amongst the legion of blue and silver armored warriors they met up with the Coachmen hassle free. It helped that they were carrying papers with the seal of the Archmage Daramin, the Brotherhood was always sending someone somewhere, so no one even thought to question the Wraiths. So, with only an off-handed comment from the Coachmen assigned to Spike, something about how the Capital Guard should have lent him one of their griffons, they were off.

During their days of travel the Wraiths were allowed a glimpse of Dardarrick that very few could say they had experienced. From up high they saw the rolling hills and lush farmland surrounding the capital, they saw crops sprouting in fields and whole orchards in full blossom, the vegetation welcoming the coming of spring. As they traveled farther east the picture became bleaker. They flew over the massing legions of the Ground Corps, thousands of soldiers marching east to prepare for the war with Lorn. Dotting the road east were small villages surrounded with the shanty towns of refugees fleeing the devastation of eastern Dardarrick. Even the drop point itself was cluttered with Dardarrian citizens heading west.

Having landed and said their farewells to the Coachmen, the Wraiths proceeded on foot. As they traveled they noticed the landscape becoming more and more ominous. Fields left fallow were overgrown with weeds, farmsteads and manors were abandoned, their doors and window shutters swinging in the warm breeze and vultures could be seen circling high in the eastern sky. It has been nearly two days since they have seen anyone beside each other.

It is currently midday and Wraith Recon Four has just crested a hillock, the Dawn River and the bridge across it coming into view about four hundred yards to the east. A small group of humanoids can be seen on the bridge standing around a cart.