Fire Emblem: Sell-Swords, Part 1, the Fate of Raeus

[ZeltArruin]

Chapter 1: Days of Fate
The crisp autumn air was blowing southerly, carrying just a hint of the winter’s bite with it, but also carrying a warning, the cold this early in the year did not bode well, a long winter was drawing near. Raeus always had driving storms and heavy snowfall during the winter; the tall mountains to one side, the ocean to the other always brought the snows and, during the warmer months, rains. Because of the rains, Raeus was nothing if not fertile, just like its sister-country, Ovail, to the south. Farming was easy, and food was always cheap and available. But luckily for any sell-sword, there were still problems that couldn’t be solved with food or precipitation, pirates to the west, harrying the fishing villages and port towns, bandits from the mountains to the east, attacking farmers and stealing crops and livestock. It made for decent pay, though occasionally dull work, routing a couple upstart fools playing at being bad guys for pennies was hardly glorious. But then, that was the mercenary’s life.
Rumor of Ovail’s militarization and increasingly xenophobic nature had made it to the fort, going here or there and talking to people from many parts of the country of Raeus helps with that. Of course, work from Ovail had also all but dried up in recent months, cutting back on the number of jobs out there, on money earned. Perhaps the White Raven Company was the first to notice the changes going on in Ovail, holding no allegiance to either country had perks when working with them both. The king of Raeus, King Phil II, had ordered armies raised and trained, weapons forged and the border patrolled, he hadn’t sent out for any mercenary companies, which was perhaps a foolish mistake, as there were several that had standing armies or soldiers for hire.
The sun was setting in the west, casting it’s golden glow weakly across the country side, autumn was nearly spent, the sunny October days were growing shorter and fewer. The majority of the White Ravens were at home this day, however a few were out on missions, so it was no surprise that someone heard a ragged, hard knocking on the door, the thumping of the bottom of a fist against the wood. Someone was here.


Links:
OOC
Recruitment

[Hammerpriest]

Chapter 1: Days of Fate
-Snip-

Reaching into his desk for an additional jar of ink, Kiviuq once again set to managing the Raven's accounts and finances. Numbers weren't his forte, but it was a method to keep himself busy whenever he wasn't needed out in the field. He dutifully etched onto the parchment the expected totals from today, leaving some room for the actual amount. While he had no doubt that every Raven out in the field would come back with news of success, he made sure to take every precaution. He spent the better part of his day working at his desk on the first floor of the compound so it was no surprise that that the pounding at the door could be heard from there.

*Thud* *Thud* *Thud*

Surely someone else would see to the door. Kiviuq clearly had business he was tending to.

*Thud* *Thud* *Thud*

He quickly lost his focus. Standing up, Kiviuq made his way towards the door, seeking to rid himself of this distraction. Swinging the door wide open. Kiviuq maintained his scowl. Whoever stood on the other side of that door was sure to get an earful on proper door knocking technique.

[Iron Warlord]

Rook was kneeling in his customary position in the rafters when he heard the knocking. He considered going down to see who it was for a moment but decided against it. From his current roost he had a clear view of the door and could easily leap down to support his fellow Ravens if the knocker was looking for trouble. When he saw Kiviuq go to the door his whole body tensed, ready to fight or flee should the situation call for. Rook realized that he was being paranoid, in a likelihood the knocker was something much more innocuous, but he hadn't lived as long as he had by ignoring the possibility of trouble.

[CrimsonKnight]

Petra was staring down at the pot with a serious look on her face. Granted, she had a serious look on her face most of the time, but this time was extra cause for it, for she was doing something new, unknown, and potentially dangerous to everyone: she had the company's cooking duty for the day. Petra, the nobleman's daughter who'd never prepared a meal in her life before leaving the confines of her family estate permanently, was at this moment cooking a stew. Granted, she'd had to cook enough times on her own now since leaving that she at least could make something edible without too much effort, but she was hoping that this time, her hard work would produce something that the others would actually WANT to eat, not tolerate because there was nothing better available.

A hand grasping a wooden spoon tentatively reached inside and secured a full spoonful of potatoes, vegetables, and mutton, before slowly bringing it to her lips, and with a nervous gulp, her mouth opened and clamped down on the spoon. A few tentative chews followed before she swallowed the lot and sighed ruefully. It was... acceptable. Not great, but not terrible either. Acceptable. Not for the first time, she wished that business would pick up enough that they could hire someone new who actually possessed adequate culinary skills and save her from this headache. In the meantime, she decided to see if more salt would improve the flavor any.

On her way to the pantry, she heard the knocking coming from the front door. A frantic moment spent looking between the stew pot and the hallway to the front hall was averted when she heard the shuffling noise of the company's second in command walking over to answer it. She turned and grabbed the salt, but kept an ear open as she continued her efforts to salvage their dinner in the event this guest proved to be of the unwanted and/or violent variety. In their line of work, it was a occupational hazard.

[ZeltArruin]

When Kiviuq turned the handle, the door was forcibly swung inwards by the weight of the man who was slumped against the heavy wood, and he fell to the ground. By initial glance, he appeared a beggar, dirty and unwashed, his clothes matted with mud and....blood? His hands were tightly bound with cloth, stained on both sides red, his feet were bruised and bloody, and his once fine clothes were now ruined and frayed. He was a nobleman, likely from Ovail given his choice of colours, red, gold and white, but that couldn't be certain.

He did not move from his position on the floor, though he was still breathing, it appeared reaching the fort and knocking sapped the last of his strength. The man was fairly old, his hair gray and thin, his body frail and slim, his beard slightly overgrown and shaggy, sporting the same gray as the top of his head. There were signs that he had been tortured all over his body, were someone to recognize the scars and scabbed over wounds. The once-nobleman was moaning softly, clearly still in pain, and with his mouth open as it was, it could be seen that his tongue no longer resided there. And with that, the man lost consciousness.

[Theprettiestorc]

"Shh...shsh. It's okay, Seltur...this is our new home now. There's even enough room to stretch your wings! They must've known already with the...th...the wyvern there..." She pauses a moment, staring at the other occupants of the stables, before continuing her brushing. She's making sure Seltur looks wonderful for his upcoming big days as a mercenary pegasus. Then again, she's the mercenary speargirl, too, but Seltur's the one doing all the fancy hoofwork - she just stabs things.

Stabs things. Heather pales as she continues to brush, thinking about that one. She's a soldier, yes, just like she wanted to be, just like her father and her father's father and her father's father's father's father. It's not as if she remembered most of them, but she had it on good authority, at the very least - and now, she's a soldier too, in the absence of a brother. Even better, though, she gets to fly through the sky and scout. Her job is to fly. How cool is that? Granted, it might have been more impressive to be riding a great big beast like that wyvern over there, but Seltur is all the mount she needs right now. She finishes up brushing out his mane and coat, leaving wing-preening to his capable self. "Now, let me see if I can find you a treat." The pegasus only nickers in reply, as she leaves the stables to head for the kitchen.

[Hammerpriest]

-Snip-

Taking a leap back from the incoming door, Kiviuq's expression changes from his usual neutral scowl into a much rarer expression; it becomes one of pure surprise as the strange visitor falls through the doorway. The man's haggard appearance clearly showed that he wasn't here for standard business. No, a man in this state was here for emergency business provided he didn't even be in a state from which he could conduct said business in. Kiviuq rushed to the man's side, checking for whatever signs of life, if any, he could find. Upon hearing his ragged and strained breathing, Kiviuq's eyes immediately searched the nearby area for the group cleric. Upon not finding him, Kiviuq let out a loud cry,

"Someone, quick! We've got an injured man here! Somebody get Orren!"

[Grim ranger]

Fortunately enough for the unannounced visitor that had so suddenly graced the company with their sudden arrival, Orren was not far from the door for the time being, the oftentimes busy sick bay of the White Ravens having remained empty for some time now and thus allowed him to spend his time on pursuits unrelated to patching up the wounds and more subtle ails of his companions. And what was better pursuit for noble turned soldier turned priest than sitting in comfortable chair and enjoying a fascinating book?

A chair that was close enough to the entrance for him to hear his name being called, and in quite urgent note at that. And just when he had thought that the situation would remain calm for couple of days still...

Sighing to himself and earmarking the book, the blue-clad healer grabbed his staff from the doorway and rushed to Kiviuq, quickly assessing the situation at a glance even as he arrived. "Make room and go fetch the commander: I will do what I can" he said in tone that brooked no dissent as he crouched next to the man, his staff glowing with pale light. Although he was not the most commanding White Raven by a long shot, the matters concerning healing were something he took charge of as the only healer present, and more than one White Raven had found out that "healer's orders" were better off obeyed when they were laid down in concerning such matters.

Examining the various injuries of his newest patient, Orren breathed in slowly and got to work.

[ZeltArruin]

The injured man's scars were all over his body, some indicative of bones that had been broken then healed improperly, others from knives, others still indistinguishable in their source. Attempts to magically restore the man were resisted, and had little visible effect upon him. A magic ward, or perhaps some other means of blocking the priest's magic? Other than the visible damages, his eyes were heavily shadowed, and his gaunt frame showed just how bad of shape the man was in. The true question wasn't who did this, but how had a man in such a state made it to the fortress, and from where?

[Grim ranger]

Frowning as his attempts to magically cure the man ended in failure, Orren gained intensely determined look as he considered the other options current available to him. Given that the magic would not do the trick, he'd have to attempt something more traditional, and it would take time and effort...should it work at all. Still, slim chance was better than none, and he would never let the man die in front of his eyes without trying his damnest to avert it.

In these matters, he was rather determined individual.

"Get over here, Ravens!" he called out loudly. "We have wounded over here, and if I don't get someone to help with the carrying when a man needs to get into infirmary, I'll be very unhappy!"

[Illven]

Arum lumbers towards the door.

What is going on? He askes the group.

[Iron Warlord]

Rook quickly drops down from his rafter, grabbing it as he falls to redirect his momentum into a forward swing which he uses to fling himself forward to land deftly near the wounded man. "How can I be of assistance Orren?" He asks as he looks down at the wounded man.

[CrimsonKnight]

Petra had been racing down the hallway from the kitchen even before Kiviuq had finished his bellowing for their healer. She stayed out of Orren's way as he began his work, resisting the urge to wipe at her mouth in disgust (not at the poor man himself, but at what barbarism had been done to him). She turned as Arum arrived.

"Sir, Kiviuq just found our 'guest' here passed out on the stoop. I don't know how far someone could have gotten in this condition... what if the ones responsible are still nearby? Unless you have an objection, I'm going to go do a sweep of the perimeter. Just in case."

[Illven]

Makes sense. You have leave. Arum replied.

If you see mages or archers around, come back immediately. He warns.

[Theprettiestorc]

"..." Peeking around Petra, concerned with all the people around, she hasn't wanted to say much. Then the other thought occurs, while Petra explains that there could be others around - she pales, and raises her hand shakily. "Sh...should I go w-with her...? It's safer with t-two of us, I think..." Either that, or they could cover more ground. She's a flyer too, though, and: "I-I could carry someone with me, too...! Just in case." If there is a pitched battle, taking along some support wouldn't hurt, either, as long as they could get them back.

[Grim ranger]

Glancing at Rook without much surprise as he had gotten used to such antics from the thief by now, Orren motioned at the wounded man. "Grab his legs and help me to carry him to the infirmary. Normally I would not move a patient, but the circumstances are somewhat special" he says shortly as he himself goes to grab the wounded man from underneath his arms, preparing to lift and carry him to the infirmary.

[Hammerpriest]

Standing up from his position kneeling over the wounded man now that his job was done, Kiviuq thought about what his best course of action at the moment would be. He was curious not only about how the man got and survived those injuries he bore, but also how old those injuries were. If they were fresh then they had bigger concerns to worry about than simply this one man's life. However, should the worst case scenario of bandits or brigands intending to lay siege to the White Raven compound were true, he lacked the time to have Orren investigate the exact nature of the man's circumstances. Kiviuq turned to face his superior.

"Sir Arum, I think it might be best to put the whole fort on alert. I'm worried that all of these strange happenings are ill omens of things yet to pass."

[Illven]

If you feel brave enough to go, then I suppose it'll be your first mission. Arum says to Heather.

He also turns to Kiviuq

Yeah, patrols are being sent out, in case their are enemies about.

[CrimsonKnight]

Petra eyed their newest member critically for a moment before nodding. "Glad you asked, Heather. I certainly won't say no to having someone to watch my back.

She turned back to their leader. "Don't worry sir, we'll be careful. This is strictly a recon flight. Hopefully it'll be nothing, but... well, hope for the best and plan for the worst. Alright, let's go Heather. Don't forget your spear."

She grabbed her lance from the nearby weapon rack and headed back down the hallway, passing through the kitchen and out the back door to the stables. On seeing his mistress, Lirael began a high-pitched twilling that he usually made whenever he was in a good mood. Petra leaned her lance against the wall as she grabbed her saddle from the nearby rack and opened the gate to his enclosure.

With the speed of a practiced rider, she swiftly saddled and bridled him before giving him a reassuring pat to the head. She led him outside, grabbing her lance on the way and mounting him once he had sufficient room to take off.

"Heather! Ready to go?"

[Theprettiestorc]

"R-Ready...!" Not quite. She'd taken a moment getting her spear, and rushing out after a quick look to the others. Down the stairs she went, almost tripping! Upon reaching the stables, she started saddling Seltur, murmuring apologies. "...s-sorry...I promised to return with a snack, and came with a job..." The saddle itself, being a bit bigger so there could be two passengers, takes a moment getting fastened.

Finishing that, though, after her reply to Petra, she quickly puts the drapery on around his chest. He's gotta be representing colors! Technically, they're just her colors, but nonetheless, elegance on the battlefield can be just as important as knowing how to fight. Hopping onto his back, she takes her lance on the trot out as she joins her companion flier. "I-I don't think there's gonna be trouble, r-right, Miss Petra...?" She certainly hopes not, but she's glad she wore full battle regalia today, just in case - there could always be a problem at any moment, she was told, so be prepared!

This seems to be one of those things. She takes off first, since Lirael needs more room...Seltur galloping, and letting out a whinny, as he leaps into the air! Galloping, and beating his wings for a better ascension rate, he brings them far into the air above the fort. Heather looks back and down, and gives a quiet command for Seltur to hold a moment so Petra can lead.

[Iron Warlord]

Rook quickly crouches down and lifts the wounded man by his legs and helps Orren take him to the infirmary. As soon as the man is safely in a bed Rook slips out of the room, to allow Orren to do his work, and headed back to the entryway to await any orders that may be forthcoming.

[Hammerpriest]

Nodding at his superior's acknowledgement of the gravity of the situation, Kiviuq takes his leave of the entrance and begins to follow Orren and Rook. He had many questions to ask the cleric as well as the wounded man. He stopped at his desk and pulled his tome from the books and ledgers contained within and continued following the pair. Upon following them to their destination, Kiviuq took up residence in a corner and began to wait for the cleric to finish his duties. Kiviuq simply hoped that the scouts reported back swiftly with an all clear and that all of his caution was for naught.

[CrimsonKnight]

Lirael spread his wings wide, sounding off in glee at being out of his enclosure. With a nudge of her legs, he was barreling forward until achieving sufficient lift, and then they were flying up towards the waiting Pegasus Knight. Despite the gravity of the situation, Petra couldn't help grinning slightly. She really needed to spend more time doing this with Lirael. If only the Ravens weren't so shorthanded.

"That's what we're up here for, to find out if there is going to be trouble. Follow me, we'll wing south first for a mile or two. Seeing as our guest showed up at the front door, not the rear where we were at, there's a good chance he came from that direction. If we don't find anything, we'll split up and cover the whole perimeter until we meet north of the manor."

She sent Lirael soaring forward, the manor passing by underneath as they headed south. As they flew, and with her eyes firmly fixed on the ground ahead, she chatted with Heather. "So, how are the White Ravens treating you so far? Is this your first time doing mercenary work, or have you already gotten your feet wet, so to speak?"

[GrassyGnoll]

Lying face down on the wooden table nearest the company barrack's entryway, Agrippa's head swam with the processions that were playing out at a 90 degree angle to his side-eye perspective. He groaned into the oak tabletop in understanding of his entailed involvement.


"It's too early for this. Whatever this is."

[Theprettiestorc]

"Right..." She goes over the plan in her head. There's a lot to do today, then, and hopefully, they're together if something is wrong. It's not that she can't handle herself, but...well, Petra is a much better fighter than her, honestly. It's almost an honor to be flying with her on an actual mission!

Just below her, and to her left, Heather scans about to ensure there's nothing else in the skies, and nothing on the ground. She speaks up to Petra. "Oh! The Ravens are nice...! I left home to join the military, but...well, I-I kinda came out here because most of the duties were just sitting around. It's not that I like fighting, b-but...well, I learned how, and I can use a lance, so I'd rather have to fight, than to have the ability and not use it. This is my first mission though, M-Miss Petra."

[ZeltArruin]

The man lulled about, unconscious, yet kept his hands close to his chest, the bloody rags wrapped about them somewhat browned with the dried blood, clearly the wounds were old. When he was placed onto the bed, he seemed to relax slightly, but this did not stop him from holding his hands close. In the better lighting, it was clear that many of his wounds were old, and the only fresh ones seemed to be on his bare feet, as well as his exposed skin, which would indicate that hi had received them while running to the fort, stumbling, running on hard ground, through underbrush and thorns.

Up in the sky, there was little to see to the south, no fires, no signs of attackers, just clear skies and empty ground, as far as they could see from their lofty perch. To the west was the coast, and to the east was further inland, the only other directions the man was likely to come from, if he indeed was from Ovail as his garb suggested.

[CrimsonKnight]

"You keep calling me Miss Petra, you're liable to make me start feeling old. I'm only 24 after all. Just Petra is fine. We're not a military unit strictly speaking, so you can relax a bit if we're not in a formal setting. Anyway, you're doing fine so far, no need to worry. You'll do your family proud, I'm sure."

Not that Petra really cared what HER father thought of her, but she hoped Heather had had a happier childhood than she had. Once she'd judged they'd gone far enough, Petra slowed Lirael's speed until he was hovering in midair with a steady flapping of his wings.

"Nothing this way, it seems. Alright, time to cut around. I'll head towards the east. Do you want to follow me, or do you feel comfortable enough to go on your own and cover the coast to the west?"

[Grim ranger]

After he and Rook finished carefully laying the wounded man to the infirmary bunk, Orren forgot about his comrades for a brief moment, already busily working to see to the extensive wounds without his magic to help in the matter. "Troubling... That should not have happened... But maybe I can compensate, herbs and bandages should work..." he muttered to himself with almost absent-minded expression as his hands deftly gathered supplies from medicine cabinet, piling it all on a small table next to the bed. "Well, you have certainly been through rather a lot... Let's get those looked at, shall we?" he asked the unconscious man as he began to prepare bandages and figure out the full extent of the poor fellow's injuries. This could take a while...

[Theprettiestorc]

Do her family proud...she becomes sad when she hears that, keeping her head turned to look at the ground. Her eyes would give it away nearly instantly, but then again, they're pretty high up. Still, there's nothing, though. "...hmm? Oh! I-I can go on my own...!" She changes bearing and gets Seltur turned around, going back and looking over the coastline of the West. There's something that Heather doesn't get, though. The man could barely walk, couldn't talk, had injuries...he'd been tortured, obviously, and that gives her shivers.

That said...there were only a few reasons the guy could be there. One, he escaped. Alright, he must have a good drive to do that. Two, he was set loose, and that wasn't implausible, either, since he could be a warning of things to come. Could there be war already? Three, he's carrying a disease for a form of pathological warfare, but he never would've made it on his own.

But then there's something else. Orren had to move the guy - his healing is usually instant, and the man was clutching his chest. Now, I don't know much about magic, but that seems to me like it's something bad and dark. I hope it's nothing serious, though...maybe he should try curing a disease instead of straight healing? He hasn't said anything, though, at least with me around - I guess it's probably because I'm not much into magic anyway. Her mind's wandered, while she patrols, but she makes a mental note to ask about something when they get back.

[CrimsonKnight]

Petra nodded and sent Lirael winging over towards the east before angling a bit northward. She was impressed with what she'd seen of Heather so far, and had a feeling the young knight was going to do just fine with the Company.