Medieval Fantasy: Rise of the Free Companies

[Destichado]

Zendar was burning.
In the first light of the morning, on the twelfth day of August, in year 1274 after the foundation of the lost city of Calradia, Zendar was burning.

Seated on an island in the middle of the mighty Zendar river, surrounded by trackless marsh and swamp, the Free City of Zendar had stood defiant against the three neighboring kingdoms of Swadia, Vaegirhold and the Nord-law for two hundred years. Protected by natural barriers, the strength of their mercantile fleet and the price of their mercenaries, the trading city had thought itself untouchable.

Ragnar of the Nords had proven them wrong. With stolen silver, the contracts of Zendar's condotieri were bought off when they were set to renew, and they were paid to disappear. With an army of slaves and thralls, the river had been diverted. With purchased pumps from Swadia, the marsh had been drained. And with torches and axes and valor, the city had been stormed.

Wealth almost beyond reckoning lay within the trading city's walls, and Ragnar of the Nords might have preferred to take the city intact, but after a two year siege, his housecarls needed the release of pillage.

To his credit there was no rapine, but that was just business. The city was empty -or nearly so. Lord Mleza of Vaegirhold had seen to it that the citizens of Zendar were permitted free passage across the dried swamp when it became clear that no amount of bravery or cunning by the defenders could stop King Ragnar's army. He was forced to pay one hundred pounds of silver to the Nord king for their ransom -a monstrous sum- but he expected to have the city's finer artisans and merchant families resettled in his own city by winter's end, and his losses were not so great compared to what he stood to gain. He and his retinue of fifty boyars armed in lamellar and bechters of mail-and-plate sat their horses on the highest of the low hillocks, observing his investment.

On what once were the eastern banks of the Zendar river, a city of tents had sprung up. The displaced and dispossessed could do nothing but watch as their city burned. Thralls with picks beat apart the anchors of the great iron chain that once spanned the river. Each link as thick as a man's leg, the chain was a barrier to all shipping to be raised and lowered at will, keeping the city safe and enforcing Zendar's monopoly on river traffic. The iron alone was worth a lord's ransom.

Swadian and Vaegir merchants had made the journey to the ruins of Zendar, thinking to sell food, horses or any manner of necessity, but they found the people penniless. Grumbling, they traded amongst each other and returned to their homelands, followed by strings of refugees.

Slavers had also come, Nord and Khergit alike, turning good trade amongst those who had no choice but to indenture themselves or their children to survive.

And finally, picking past the dead and dying like Carrion Crows, Free Companies returned to Zendar.

Captain Mercer of the Leatherskins was hunting down swamp fishers and riverine hunters for his upcoming contract with a boatmaster's guild dispute in the Nord-law. His battles had left him extravagantly scarred, and he loomed impressively over the small crowd gathered around him.

Aspara of the Bronzehearts concentrated on war's new-made widows. She and her bronze-armored captains had all been widows or runaways before their joined the ancient mercenary troupe, and their company of pikewomen and halberdiers were notorious for being expensive and bloody-minded terrors.

And finally there was Radomir, Captain of the Ironclads. His was one of the larger free companies, indeed it was an army in its own right, with ranks of foot, archers and heavy cavalry drilled to fight in compliment. He was not long from quitting the siege of Vincoud, and had held the castle for its lord against the Khergit hoard for three months, which was as long as his employer's gold had held out. When it had run dry and promises of more had grown stale, he left the castle and marched his company straight through the Khergit pickets and into the mountains. Vincoud surrendered to the golden hoard the next day.

But successful and prudent as he had been, his company had taken losses, and he was looking to recruit. Rumor had it, he was taking most anyone. The Captain sat on a small folding throne in front of a cottage door taken off its hinges, set on legs and cover with embroidered linens, and a scribe with a tremendous book perched on a stool beside him. Two plate-armored lieutenants stood flanking him with naked blades in hand, and a disinterested banner-bearer behind them leaned against his guidon.

A small crowd gathered before them.

"Next," barked Radomir.






OOC new posts

[Townopolis]

Gaille

Gaille wore his armor for this meeting, and carried arms and shield with him, to better impress upon the mercenary lord that he was, indeed, a fighting man, and not some peasant upstart run off from the farm his father worked.

Holding his helm in one arm, he stepped forward when the lord called, and gave a bow appropriate for a knight meeting a man of baronial rank.

"Sir Gaille du Cote, of the order of St. Gird."

He introduced himself as he rose from his bow, but waited for Radomir to continue before speaking more. He felt it was obvious, his purpose here.

[DJDeMiko]

Currently anonymous

"Next," barked Radomir.

A man in light brown leather and wrapped in a faded dark green coat steps out of the crowd suddenly, startling two men in the process who hadn't realized there had been someone standing behind them.

"Captain Radomir," the man said in a tone that was polite, but a few shades below what one would expect of a solider addressing a commanding officer. "I've been long impressed with the exploits of The Ironclads and to be quite frank, you won't find a better scout in this crowd than I."

[Adlan]

Ioan

"Next" barked Radomir.

Ioan Freieberhardt stepped forward, Over his sholder in a cloth bag hung one of his Bow's, and his profession was obvious from the heavy cloth bag full of arrows at his side.

His Armour, and other gear, was still on his mule, which stood with an ostler just a short walk away (and in sight, Ioan was not so much of country bumpkin as he had been 2 years before).

'Ioan Freieberhardt' he spoke, his voice a solid baritone, already strong and confident. 'Two Years Service as a Mounted Archer in the Baron of Paston's Retinue. 1st prize at the Mark's in Paston for the past two years.

He looked over a the scribe's writing, cocked his head to see it slatendicular so as to read it
'And I'm no Serf what can't read what he signs, to be paid at the lower rate, I am a freeman and you'll pay me the rate a Real Bowman warrants

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila

Ioan had hardly been signed up and moved past when the next hopeful came up, unannounced. She was clad in patchwork fur and leather, with ragged chainmail above that. A dark blue hat sat on her head, covering her face.

A halberd and shield were slung across her back, and there was a sword swinging at her side. She carried no other possessions, other than several flasks tied to her belt.

"Hyu iz hirink? Hy em Raxila Kaarone, a skilled varrior uf de blade und in a scratch, kan serff as a healer. Hy fought at Rohlstaff, Heroburg und Kanar's Varf. Hy'm as tough as an ox und as schtrong as a dragon's velp."

She doffs the hat and gives a small bow. Her grin is disturbingly sharp and vicious. Her skin is as green as the grass, and her purple eyes are slitted like a cat's.

"Don' be scared, Hy don' bite. Vell, not uften. Oy! Und make sure Hy'm paeed in lots uf silver, hyu got dat?"

[Krrth]

Aeryn was having a bad day. Over the course of the last few weeks, all the fun had left the city, leaving nothing but despair. Why just last night he had tried to... Next!barked Radomir
mentally chiding himself for being so unaware of his surroundings as to be caught off gaurd, he steps forward.

Greetings Lord Radomir. I am Aeryn, of no place I care to name. I am an Archer and Scout, almost since birth. I hunted on my fathers...well, that's not important now. I can bring in food, and I can find the enemy. I know the ways of Tree and Leaf, River and Stream. I also find myself almost out of coin.

*waits for a response from Radomir*

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan stepped forward, tall and proud. His beard was plaited and he had scrounged up a few bands of rough-beaten silver to adorn them with. His eyes were fierce, and he had his shield strapped over one arm, and his other weapons at his side or slung over his back. A few paces ahead of him in line he saw Raxila, and his eyes widened just a fraction, but then he shrugged and grinned. This might be more interesting than he'd thought.

Morrigan mac Morrison, of clan mac Morrison. I can fight with sword, spear, and shield, an' I've got ten years experience - two in the clan-wars, two in the Rhodok army, six in tha free companies.

Ah fight like a wild mountain wolf in a corner, and I'll spill red blood in exchange for good silver.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila strode past the recruiting table, pleased with herself, and then she heard the accent. Her heart skipped a beat, then she breathed out in relief.

No. Too koarse to be de Hedyne. But schtill, a Rhodok highlunder here...

It's been too long. Anodder Rhodok, even a puny mortal... Yah. Hy need a brodder to fight alongside. Und if ve vas to be believed, he fought like a vild volf.

Raxila turned and waited for the Highlander - Morrigan, he had said his name was. She smirked at him as he passed the table, and swung into stride with him.

"So, Morrigan, vat part uf de Rhodok Konfederacy are hyu from?"

[Snacs]

Olin Scott

"Next"

The man that sauntered up after Morrigan's turn, his lean, wiry frame distinct from many of the others. A sturdy, long Boar Spear was propped against one shoulder, the cross-hilted tip bobbing in time with his step.

He genuflected to Radomir, his shaggy-haired head lowering in deference to his Might.

"Greetings M'Lord, My name is Olin, Olin Scott. I am handy enough with a spear, and I am none too terrible with the Quill either"He said, giving the scribe a slow grin.

"Of course, what kind of bond may be forged without trust?"He said, and calmly slid his right bracer down a few inches. Revealed to the Captain,his guard, and the scribe were twisting black symbols, which were so complex and twisted they seemed to move on their own...

While the rest of the crowd behind them would see nothing,blocked by his arm, the would certainly notice the way the scribe's eyes turned away,and he quickly motioned with his hands in the symbol to avert Evil.

Olin gave credit, as the soldiers guarding him barely blinked, other than to tense in case he drew a blade.

"And so i give you my trust, Radomir of the Ironclads. May the spirits bless your endeavors"He pushed the bracer back up and gave a small, polite bow, ambling to the side to let the line continue...

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Character sheet for future reference:

Spoiler

Show

Heinrich Schutzbar, Knight of Swadia

Background: Born into the minor nobility of knighthood, Heinrich's future profession was sealed at birth. He was brought up in the world of chivalry, warfare and courtly life as expected of a young noble. Most of his teenage years were either spent in the court of the Lords serving their needs but at the same time learning from them the skills he would need later in life. He learned the laws of the land, proper etiquette, a dabbling of philosophy and religion, just what any young man and future lord would need. More importantly, he learned how to make war. Not only personal combat and the riding of horses but how to command men and wage war against the enemies of Swadia.

Though the halls of Praven provided him with his education and made Heinrich the man he is, he knew that he would have to set off on his own to gain true power and fame. With his horse and equipment on hand he set out to join one of the Free Corps roaming the land to make a name for himself.

Personality: He possesses the haughty, aloof and sometimes overbearing mentality of a noble. Heinrich is a man who is deeply driven by his own lust for power and seeking to prove himself to King and country.

Appearance: Owing the benefits of a noble life, notably good food, more hygenic and sanitary conditions as well as access to better medicine, Heinrich is tall compared to the average person standing at 6 feet. He is clean shaven and has brown hair that is cut short so as to deny the enemy a handhold in combat.

Combat Style: Heinrich prefers to fight like a Knight on horseback. Using a poleaxe to charge the enemy ranks and rend infantry to shreds as his shield protects him from arrows and bolts. If he is unable to charge the enemy or is caught in the midst of a horde of lessers he will draw his sword to cut his foes down from his horse as the might creature stomps and bites those who gets in the way.

Equipment:

Armor:

Chainmail armor
Chainmail gloves
Chainmail coif
Heavy leather boots

Weapons:
Longsword
Heraldic Shield
Poleaxe

Other equipment:
War horse
Supply horse

Standard equipment: i.e. extra clothing, bedding, tent, utensils.

IC:

"Next" came the shout.

Heinrich stepped forward, dressed in his courtly clothes with a red cloak hanging from his neck, his longsword was at his hip. Looking at the assembled guards and the captain he proudly proclaimed "Heinrich Schutzbar, proud knight of House Schutzbar! At your service!"

[Destichado]

Radomir sat back as far as his blued plate and and folding field chair would allow and watched the applicants pass by the table. He took an enameled copper chalice of chilled wine from a half-grown page and sipped while he listened. At intervals he would call out prices, "three denars, half grossa, one grossa three," and the like. These were dutifully scriven in the long-leafed book by the accountant, who pinched the hinge of his horn and quartz glasses tighter against his nose.

At length, the captain held up his hand and stopped the line. "I've heard enough. Osgood, march them to the camp. If they can keep the pace they can stay. We'll send any latecomers on as they come." With that, he gathered his cape and sprang up, tossing the goblet carelessly to a lieutenant, and walked off. The lieutenants glanced at each other and followed. One tossed the chalice to the clerk.

"Osgood" ducked out of a painted tent and strode in front of the newcomers. Well over seven feet tall and easily thirty stone, he was a mountain of a man in plate and quilted cloth, bristling with the hilts and scabbards of half a dozen weapons.

"Form two lines, please" he said easily, gesturing with the long haft of an outsized nord axe he was using as a cane.

"If you have a horse, use it. Otherwise you'll have to carry your possessions, and you'll still be expected to keep up." He brushed away a large fly displaced by the drained swamp, and went on. "The camp is only a mile away. If you can make it that far with all your belongings, you can march with the Ironclads."

With that he turned about and marched off, amusing himself by flipping and catching the massive, gleaming axe from hand to hand with every other step.

[Townopolis]

Gaille

Gaille hurried to his horses and took the reigns of both before finding a place in one of the lines, somewhere near the back.

He fell into step with the rest of the recruits, marching on foot and leading both horses behind him. As they marched, he quietly observed the other recruits, and the man called Osgood. He measured them up and down, took in what they wore and carried. Clothing, armor, and armament were noted and added to his growing impressions of those around him. He did this quietly, wordlessly mulling over his new companions unless someone should strike up conversation with him.

[Adlan]

Ioan

Ioan led Hund, his mule, by the halter as he walked in the ranks. He Glanced at those around him, trying not to look like a country bumpkin.

About him in the ranks, those nearest him, A very tall man, a knight or lord by his bearing, and the quality of his arms and armour, leading two very fine horses and loaded with weaponry of all description.

Almost Unoticed next to the lordly fellow, keeping pace was a chap that Ioan would have had difficulty describing to you if you'd asked him five minutes after seeing him.

Another Bowman walked in the ranks, but the bow he carried was not of the same vein as Ioan's, it was a work of skill and artistry, much embellished, as a fine sword would be, rather than the plainness of a tool that marked Ioan's. His personal appearance was of the same quality as his equipment, and his finely groomed hair and beared gave him a dignity and bearing akin to that of the knights, though he walked with all his equipment on his back.
In Fine, very fine clothes, the cost of which could of kept Ioan fed well for months, another marched, but with a good warhorse, and a fighting man's countenance.

In Contrast to the wellgroomed beard of the other archer, one of the fellows close by had a bush Ioan would of describe as Bramble full, twisted and plaited and bound with silver, gave the warrior, for Ioan was quite sure warrior was the correct term, a fearsome look, combined with the dress he had though was only a traveller's yarn, about Rhodok menfolk wearing skirts. Ioan had heared of the prowess of their fighting though, and would not make any jokes, he promised himself.

As Ioan thought that, Hund, as if he had read his mind, snorted an assent, seeming to say 'Make sure you don't'.

Another in the ranks, and Ioan again tried not to look shocked, was a woman, almost as broad as he was, and taller for certain, dressed in furs like a nord barbarian from the hinterlands, or what stories said a Kergit warrior wore. Her green complexion and sharp toothed smile made her even more outlandish, and Ioan wondered if she was one of the fabeled amazon's of story, or just a woman who took up arms. He knew the world was vast, and he had come expecting adventure and exotic's. He was just a little shocked to find it so soon, only a few provinces from his home, which had seemed so quiet.

However, at least all of these were normal, the last man Ioan could see close in ranks unerved him. He had seen the sign of the Evil eye the Clerk had made when shown.... Something, and certainly the fellow seemed to project something otherworldly.

Ioan shrugged away the feeling. They'd all be members of the same free company, so he should learn to get used to the strangeness of everything.
'This is a Rum Old do.'
He murmered quietly to Hund the mule more than that anyoneelse.

He could see up an down the line, most were quiet, but some where talking, and it would pass the short walk faster than trudging in silence. He did not let the fact that he was the youngest deter him either, and although he didn't want to admit ignorance, he had some questions.
'I am Ioan Freieberhart, At your Service,' he said, out of defferance and politeness.
'Is the Normal way a Free company recruits?'

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

He kept pace easily, in part due to his very light load. A minor misunderstanding only a few weeks back had forced him to leave his horse and its saddlebags stuffed with ill-gotten goods behind. It wasn't the first time that such an incident had occurred, however, and he had long learned to always keep his weapons and a light traveling pack close.

As he walked he carefully surveyed the other men and listened in on their conversations. He had definitely chosen well. Among the ranks of a green skinned woman, an archer who can scare a learned man into making a warding gesture and so on, no one would pay a simple man with a short sword much notice.

Ahead of him some of the other recruits began to talk. He moved closer to listen.

'I am Ioan Freieberhart, At your Service,' a very young man said, 'Is this the Normal way a Free company recruits?'

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan eased into a swift, loping pace that ate away the distance, keeping up easily with the others. He'd done much worse than this, and in worse conditions. It seemed too easy, really - either this band was desperate for cannon fodder, or else there was more to this than met the eye.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila snorted derisively. A mile? No, to really give these boys a challenge they'd need to run at least two leagues. With rocks in their packs. Oh, that'd be so much fun! Perhaps she could convince that rugged highlander Morrigan and that knight Gaille to join in, too!

Her sharp, elfin ears perked up as she heard that young archer - Ioun, or something like that - try to start up a conversation. Well, if they weren't going to do any serious excercise, maybe a conversation could pass the time. She slowed her long stride and waited until Ian came closer.

As he passed her, she matched his stride and grinned at him.

"No, dis hain'tink. Usually, hyu hef keep up a nize brisk pace instead uf dis veak schtraggler's valk. Dey iz desperate, or so Hy em tinkink. Chin up! Hyu iz lucky hyu gets to be in a Free Komphenny - dey iz a lot hersher most uf de time.

Hyu ever been in a real scrap, boy?"

Instead of waiting for an answer, she looks up and yells, "Hey, Gialle! Knight guy, kome join us! Hyu too, highlunder!"

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan moved up with long, fluid strides, matching the fae-thing stride for stride. He eyed her speculatively, but held his tongue, at least for know. After all, even things like her had to eat, he supposed. Besides, she wasn't bad looking. Oh aye, this is nothin' at all. I'm fer thinkin' that they're either tryin' ta' fool us, an' this isn't the real test, or else their company gone an' lost itself a whole heap o' men and they just need some warm bodies ta' fill in tha ranks.

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Mounting his steed, Heinrich ties the reins of the nearby draft horse to his own saddle. The draft horse is loaded down with the knight's armor and other possessions.

Taking position in the group he goads his horses into pace with the rest of the unit. No need to exert them at this time. There would probably be alot of travelling in the next few days. Idly he listened to the other new recruits as they talked amongst themselves.

[Krrth]

Aeryn prepared to move out. Grabbing his gear on the way out of the tent, he winced a little at the weight.
I may have to dump the tent he thought to himself.

Ah well, it's only a mile. I can do that.

With that, he fell into line. He quickly ran into problems, being unused to marching in line. Great. I can't even lope.

' he said, out of deference and politeness.
'Is the Normal way a Free company recruits?'

'I am Ioan Freieberhart, At your Service, a young man beside him said. 'Is this the Normal way a Free company recruits?

Looking over at Raxilas response, he started a bit when he saw her.

You're a little way from home, aren't you? No matter, I'm sure well get along just fine.

Turning to Ioan I'm not sure, but this doesn't seem right. I imagine he's going to run tests and weed out those of us he deems unfit. So....archer I see. Any other skills?

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

Quietly and unobtrusively, he follows and listens. He does this out of habit more than any particular feelings towards the other men in line.

[Adlan]

Ioan was glad his Mule, Hund was carrying everything heavy, leaving his own march a swift and tiring pace, but not impossible.

"Hyu ever been in a real scrap, boy?" Asked the female fighter, flashing her rather unsettelling grin.

"Aye, one short campaign, the Baron of Paston had a little disagreement with his neighbour. Only one real battle to speak of, almost rode under by a charge of knights and men at arms"
Ioan shrugged away the memory, the image of a proud charge, pennants flying, comming straight towards you, is an unsetteling one, even with the memory of shooting it down, and seeing those that make it to the line battered back by your own dismounted knights and men at arms, and yourself and your comrade's, with Sword, and Axe and Hammer.

"Never been in a Free Company though, the Duke his self ordered the Baron's forces reduced as a punishment, or so the rumour ran, so I thought I'd try my hand at a Freecompany"

Ioan could see the encampment more clearly, across the flat drained marshland. He'd be glad when the quick pace of this marsh slackened, and he could take some of the weight off of Hund, who was complaining under the load.

"I'm not sure, but this doesn't seem right. I imagine he's going to run tests and weed out those of us he deems unfit. So....archer I see. Any other skills?" Said the other Archer, Ioan turned to him, again, inspecting his finely made equipment.

"I can Fletch, and in a pinch, I can do as a bowyer, But other than that, I don't suppose I have much other martial prowess.

"What of you? where do you hail from? Your Bow is made with care, as a sword is.

They Neared the Camp, and Ioan hoped there would be a chance to eat and rest, but he doubted it.

[Destichado]

The Ironclads' camp lay on the southern slope of a long, low hill. Sharpened pickets had been driven into the sod around two thirds of the concentrated, organic sprawl of colored tents as a barrier to cavalry charge. Heavy, slab-sided war wagons with arrow loops and iron-shod wheels were chained end to end around the far side of the camp, completing the circuit. Halberdiers and crossbowmen stood guard inside the wagons or behind door-like siege pavises brightly painted with scenes of black-armored warriors defeating enemies and garishly inventive beasts.

Nearly every tent had a carefully banked fire before it. Half of those had a cookpot above, or an iron spit. Somewhere a pair of hammers clanged out a rhythm on an anvil. Sheaves of spears, halberds and glaives were propped up at intervals.

Mud was everywhere. Roughly-split planks were laid about for boardwalks, and women, camp followers rather than soldiers, walked about with their sleeves rolled up and their longs skirts gathered above their boot-tops to keep them out of the mud. Shrill and inventive curses announced where someone had tracked mud onto the planks.

Osgood stopped and turned to face the column of recruits.
"This is home," he said. "If you're here, you're an Ironclad. If you can keep up, fight hard and survive, you can stay one.

"Leave your horses with the horsemaster and set up your tent if you have one, or pay a boy to have it done if you like. If you don't have one, make friends with someone who does, or sleep under the wagons. The first night is yours, no duties. There's food in the slop tent, you won't starve if you don't have your own, though you might wish you had. Or if you've the coin for it you can buy a meal from one of the wives. There's small beer in the tent with the ivy leaves, and there's women too if you've a mind for them. Get to know the camp and the rest of the company while you can, for as soon as the Captain is through here we're due to march, and you lot are like to be a damn site busy then."

And with that, the giant grinned, waved them in and promptly walked off in the direction of the smithy.

[Krrth]

"I can Fletch, and in a pinch, I can do as a bowyer, But other than that, I don't suppose I have much other martial prowess.

"What of you? where do you hail from? Your Bow is made with care, as a sword is.
Me? I'm from up north. I'm a hunter and tracker.
*pauses*

If we're going to march like that, I'm going to have to lighten the load a little. Ioan, was it? I don't suppose you need a tent to sleep in, do you?

[Adlan]

I don't suppose you need a tent to sleep in, do you?

'Aye, I'd gladly share, Hund won't mind carrying the extra, he's been underloaded ever since he stopped carrying grain to market.

At this the Mule snorted, again, giving the appearance of intelligence, A heavy tent on my back? Just so you can sleep easier? Bah!.

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Jumping off his horse, the Swadian made sure to avoid the thick mud that was covering most of the ground. He did not want to spend his time cleaning the mud and gunk off his boots. Bringing the two horses to the horsemaster he looks around before shouting to no one in particular.

"A silver denar to the first person who can unpack my horse and set up the tent!"

[Adlan]

Ioan and Aeryn soon had found a dry patch of ground in a halfway dry spot, and were setting up the tent. Ioan Unloaded Hund, and lead him to the horsemaster, before returning to help Aeryn assembled the tent.

'Where I'm from, we like to say there are no archer's who can shoot stronger or faster than a Paston man, I can't account for accuracy, but I'm accounted a fair shot among my folk's, mayhap you'd like a friendly competition some time?

As Ioan packed away his small amount of gear, leaving most of it still in the bags it was carried on Hund, the conversation continued.

'So what part of the north? and What bring's you here? Have you served in a freecompany before?

[Krrth]

Just a small kingdom to the north. I doubt you've ever been to it...they don't encourage vistors much. Or at all. AS to why I'm here...let's just say it became very clear to me that I would never live long enough to inherit, so I decided to make my way in the world.
*pause*
We can have a contest some time. I'd wait for us to get settled in first, though. I've never been in a free company before, but based on what I know....be prepared to ah...."establish" you place in the pecking order.

[Townopolis]

Gaille

When they reached the camp, Gaille found the rest more than welcome, and leaned on Bella to catch some breath. When he pulled himself upright and supporting his own weight again, he patted the percheron and looked about for the horsemaster. Finding him, he brought his horses over.

"Take care of the warhorse, hear, she's no pack animal, and we'll be relying on her in battle... If you need extra coin for that, that's fine."

He looked the horsemaster and his crew over as he handed off the reigns, noting their faces and judging the quality of their work for himself. Then, taking Gambler's saddlebags, he went out into the camp to hunt down someone with a tent. Much to his chagrin, he had never thought to acquire one of his own.

Spotting a lone recruit with a tent, Gaille shouldered his bags and strode up to him.

"Good day, fellow. Would you like some aid getting that pitched?"

He smiled, putting his best foot forward and hoping his demeanor and the quality of his gear would impress the other recruit enough to land him a dry, or at least drier, place to sleep.

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan, a bit winded from the run, found a bit of ground out of the way to sit down for a piece, relatively dry at that. He had a little silver in his pocket, but not much. Still, he had his ways of earning money. Catching his breath for a moment, he caught sight of Raxila and sauntered over to her, a sly grin on his face.

By my father's beard, I'd never thought I'd see one o' your folk in tha flesh, much less out o' the home country. Still, yer folk are supposed to be fierce enough in a fight, so I suppose this is as likely a place as any fer ye ta be.

[LongVin]

OOC: Lordsmoothe is Gaille talking to Heinrich or someone else with a tent?