Song of Heroes IC

[Pasong Tirad]

Harald of Stoutshield

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"Now before I say anything else, I would like each of you boldly say one thing about yourself that you're the proudest of." A large grin filling his bearded face and a twinkle out of his remaining eye.

Harald took a moment or himself. They had been walking a good distance. He wasn't tired, but he was short of breath. While Simion was giving the one-eyed man his answer, Harald was busy stuffing tobacco into his pipe to smoke it. He believed it to be a good antidote to his shortness of breath. He would be able to breathe properly, and he felt a little bit better. They were in the open in a digging operation, with many miners here and there smoking the same pipes Harald has, and so he figured the Lord Byron wouldn't really mind if he took a puff or two.

"Harald of Stoutshield, m'lord. I've experience workin' in mines. I'll be useful to 'ya." He planted his humongous shield on the ground with its stakes to relieve his back, and stared at the lord dead in his one good eye. He had to appear tough, but respectful, to a proper superior.

[The Empire of Tau]

A soft wrestling of grass would be heard by Ahmed el-Hammad - someone or thing must there. Moving with haste, Ahmed el-Hammand withdraws his hornbow, inserting a Ghazi arrow into the string. Near the area where the sound was heard, Ahmed stalks about - trying to figure out who the hell was crawling about the woods. A smell of rot and decay would set in, as Ahmed el-Hammad advances closer to the group. By now, Ahmed was only a few meters from the group. The low lighting of the forest due to the dropping sun had no effect on Ahmed’s vision, as for some reason, his undead nature had gifted him the power to see in the dark.

If anyone were to peep out their heads then they would see a silhouette, and with the aid of the last slivers of light, they could tell that this Individual - likely a man - was no greenskin or mere hunter. It be wearing a set of exotic scale-armor, not from this place.

A raspy voice calls. “Speak or I’ll assume you’re either beast or greenskins. Do so quickly or I’ll assume the latter.

[Confederation of the Equator]

[minecraft villager sound]

[Absolon-7]

McDooggle Bluff, Red-Eyes Goblin Tribe

At a large throne like structure in front of the central bonfire sat an especially large muscular goblin the size of a man and towering over the other greenskins. It possessed the shiny cuirass of a long dead Gothic knight and other mismatched parts of armor adorned its body. By its side it possessed a savage arming sword and in the other a decorated heater shield. It only possessed the worn Great Helm and chainmail coif of a Soisson knight. This was no ordinary goblin but a hobgoblin! While not a true species of goblin, they were extremely rare individual goblins spawned with the incredibly luck of being much more intelligent, stringer, and cunningly brutal than all other goblins. They were looked up to as champions of their gods among goblin society. This specific one was Garsnag Craktoof, the Steel Stealer, who was infamous for challenging knights and stealing a piece of their armor once he slew them. He looked in shame at the camp and its squalid condition. The wall was haphazardly made with felled logs and with multiple irregular openings in the spaces between logs plastered together with dried mud and dung and tied together with scavenged rope. The wall was sturdy and thick enough to deter some larger creatures but time would tell if it could withstand the might of the nearby human guardsmen. And he wasn't fond of the skewed semicircle it made around the cave entrance where the majority of the resting goblins were at.

It was daytime so most of the goblins were asleep in the damp cave behind him. There were sentries on six crudely made towers along the wall and on platforms jetting out from the bluff's cliffside with each tower stationing one goblin. Manning them were goblins archers clad in splintmail and decent enough bows. As archery was highly valued in goblinkind they received the best equipment and freshest food. Around the rest of the above-ground camp was a skeleton crew of a baker's dozen poorly armed goblins dressed in rags or nude with most armed with just knives or clubs and scantly a helmet among them. Some crude tents made from animal and human hide dotted parts of the camp but were mostly empty. The powerful sun up above irritated him and made him decide to take sleep for the day. As he rose from the throne of bones one of the goblins bumped into him as he was turning.

"You'z lookin' t' get krumped, ya git?!" yelled Garsnag at the pathetic welp his raging booming voice echoing in his helmet, "You grotz just ain't smart n' kunnin enuf to see mah big ol swagger, eh?!"

"N..no-," feebly whimpered the naked goblin in the normal shrill and raspy goblin voice.

Turning to the rest of the camp he swung his body around to get everyone else's attention while shouting, "Oi! Boyz look at dis git he finks that bein a smart alec is gonna save him fra dan krumpin in da face he gon get!" Flicking his visor up with one finger, Garsnag gave a wicked smile before throwing his open face mouth down at the goblin and chomped a bloody chunk out of the goblin's shoulder. The creature fell back in pain grasping its shoulder before Garsnag took a step forward and stopped its face flat. With the offending goblin dead in a pool of smelly green blood-like fluid, Garsnag squatted down and began ripping pieces of the dead goblin devouring its remains and ripping green flesh from the fibrous skeletal structure. With its death this now left 12 lower class goblins and six armored archers.

Satisfied with the meal he began walking to the cave entrance and checked the first few traps. While otherwise recognizable to even the lowest class goblin they would appear invisible to any outsider. At the very entrance was a large sheet of dead leaves and at sharp horizontal angle starting from the leftmost right angle was a pathway of solid dirt. And on either side was an isosceles-triangle shaped pit covered by a weak net of interwoven twigs that went down for at least six feet. At the very bottom were sharpened tree trunks tipped with goblin excrement. Taking a step to the left Garsnag walked along the platform before looking down and seeing a jurry-rigged tripwire that would activate mounted on the cave ceiling. It was a stolen boat oar that had one side lined with an assortment of kitchen knives, boar tusks, and teeth that would shred anyone's face if the trap was rigged. Satisfied he stepped over the wire and ambled on ever downwards into the deep dark cave.

[Radea]

Arden Rooke
Red Hill Caravan Company – Gathering area
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The human chuckled at Vul’s quip with his arms folded, looking on the rest of the group as they mingled and chatted. “Yes, we do look like a little crusade, don’t we?” Rooke turned his head to look at the elf, “Vul, right? I recall you introducing yourself earlier in the Legion Contract lodge. Good to know I heard correctly.” Extending his hand for a traditional hand-shake (which the Heartlander didn’t even consider if elves even had a cultural equivalent), Rooke introduced himself in return, “Name’s Arden Rooke. I go by either.” His tone was neighborly.

It was then that the fumes from the elf’s pipe wafted up to the human’s nose. Inhaling naturally with a breath, Arden snorted and coughed lightly. “What even is that, anyway? Smokeherb? Burnleaf?”

[Zarkenis Ultima]

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Oh? The rogue noted with a certain interest the way Roxana reacted to his words, seeming surprised and nearly stumbling over her words as she replied. Outwardly, Frey simply listened to the High Elf's words with a friendly smile, nodding as she finished saying that they should arrive at their destination quickly if they met no obstacles. As soon as she turned around to lead the way, though, an amused smile appeared on his face, with the rogue making an effort to suppress a snicker. Who would have thought that a Purple Cloak, my superior no less, would act this way? He wondered as he began walking after the High Elf, subtly moving his arm to send Gale back to the sky. Not that I'm complaining. It's certainly cute.

The trip to the World Sword was, to put it very simply, uneventful. Nobody had really made an effort to kick off a conversation, so he hadn't either, content to simply hum to himself, walk along, occasionally observe his hawks' antics, and gaze at the countryside. Not that there was much to look at either, although the view was certainly somewhat different from what he was used to in the Eastern Archipelago. Less white and blue and more green, for one.

Before long, a massive word became visible in the distance, giving away the fact that they were close, and soon after, they reached a pit and an excavation camp nearby, where some of the workers began looking at them oddly. As it turned out, however, they were not in the wrong place, as evidenced by the fact that an elegant old man walked out of a luxurious tent and greeted the group, with a bombastic demeanor that could only belong to the retired adventurer described in the contract's briefing.

Standing back, Frey watched as two others stepped forward before him, the marksman and the dwarf. Neither of them, however, seemed to have done what the man had asked, at least to him. That wasn't particularly bold, folks. He thought. I should try to make a better impression.

Stepping forward, Frey performed an elegant bow that he had learned from observing meetings between high-ranking aristocrats in some places of the Eastern Archipelago. "Greetings, Lord Byron. Frey Farwind is my name." The young man spoke before straightening up; his rural accent was still there, but much less prominent, concealed by the resolution and confidence in his voice. "If I had to say what I'm proudest of..." He said thoughtfully, looking up for a moment before making up his mind. "I ain't a saint. Before joining up with the Legion I often had to lie and steal, but I never took back anything I gave, and I never went back on my word if I gave it. That's something I can be proud of." The former pirate said. A big hint to his past, but he did not care; he wasn't going to announce it unprompted, but he had no intention to hide it.

A smile crept onto the blond man's face. "Was that the kind of answer you were looking for?"

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Sure enough, while she chatted with the merchant outside of the offices of the Red Hill company, Sylanna saw the members of her party begin to arrive, the several man strong group slowly gathering once more. First were the two quarreling Red Cloaks, Hadrian and Krel, the former addressing her to inform her of their arrival. She nodded to both in acknowledgment, somewhat happy to see that they were no longer at each other's throats; whether due to their own maturity or due to the older Inquisitor's threats, she didn't know, but it was welcome nonetheless.

Speaking of the older Inquisitor, Strauch soon arrived as well, mentioning that the armor she wore reminded him of some order or another that formed a part of the Inquisition. While she was by no means an expert, she had seen members of those orders now and then, both during her time in the North and during her career as a legionnaire, and had noticed the similarities as well. "Yes, I see what you mean, Strauch. Perhaps some of the master smiths from Issgard are in the employ of the Inquisition? It would not surprise me; their work is renowned across Requiem after all." She spoke in response to the Witch Hunter's comment.

Next came Vulluin the Wood Elf, one of the calmer members of the group from what he had seen, as well as one of the few that didn't specialize in melee combat. She offered him a smile as he arrived, and then turned to look at Arialista, a young woman who had joined just before the party was dismissed from the Legion hall. Finally, Arden also arrived, and she nodded at him in acknowledgment. The group was starting to take shape, but more legionnaires were yet to arrive.

As the Snow Elf scanned the crowds in search of any other arriving members, the merchant tapped her shoulder to grab her attention before addressing her, motioning towards an unfamiliar figure, a woman slightly younger than herself, clad in heavy armor and dressed with a garb she recognized from a religious organization in the Urban Centers, one among those that didn't join the Inquisition, if she recalled. The merchant introduced her as Yvonne Delacroix, a paladin. In response, she nodded before turning back to the woman, hearing what she had to say and briefly smiling when she heard the naive young woman calling her 'Lady'.

"I am not someone of noble birth, paladin. There's no need for you to address me using such titles." The elven knight clarified before continuing. "But anyway, it's a pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Yvonne. I will admit, I had my doubts when our mutual friend here suggested we should work together with someone from outside the Legion." She said, gesturing to the merchant. "It's not something that happens often during contracts. But seeing you now, I don't foresee we'll have any problems. Welcome to the party." Sylanna concluded with a friendly smile.

[New Finnish Republic]

Edward Brunwulf
Outskirts of the Goblin Camp

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The sound of rustling grass, combined with a creeping stench caused Edward's grip on his sword to tighten as he signaled with his hands to the others to indicate where to put their eyes upon. As they drew nearer, the stench began to increase dramatically, a smell he could only compare to a rotten pile of meat mixed in with the a foul skunk. It took all of his willpower to stop himself from gagging, instead doing his best to prepare his sword for battle at any sign of danger.

"Speak or I’ll assume you’re either beast or greenskins. Do so quickly or I’ll assume the latter."

Edward's eyes caught a glimpse at the silhouette of a figure staring towards them in the darkness. While the suns rays of lights had mostly faded away, he was able to discern what was no doubt a drawn bow in its hands, confirming that the threats made were far from being bluffed by whoever this person was. Edward stared at the figure for a few moments, unsure on what his next course of action should be. It's too large to be a goblin. If it's a bandit, he wouldn't be working alone. I doubt it would be a villager, either. Which means one thing, he thought as his eyebrows furrowed underneath his helmet. An adventurer.

"We are here to eliminate the goblins who are camped here. If you are a friend, join us. If you are a passerby, leave. If you are an enemy..." Edward let the words trail of, his eyes never leaving the sight of the figure before him as he gripped at the handle of his sword, waiting to see what this strange man wanted with them.

[Segral]

Oberon Klask

The trip was quite uneventful, but it was good exercise. It was a good day for walking, sunny and bright, yet not hot enough to make one sweat like a pig. There was no traffic, meaning there was little to bump into or shove, and no need to randomly cross the road to avoid a drunk rickshaw. The grass pastures, windmills, and endless fields of barley and wheat all stretched into a glorious, shimmering landscape, the perfect portrait. People these days didn't have enough appreciation for the rugged landscapes around them, they were too focused on money and food and horses. When one was traveling around the country as a nomad like Oberon, you grew an appreciation for the natural environment, and everything about it. It was all one could see for miles, after all.

---

Eventually, a small bump appeared over the horizon. As the minutes stretched on, the bump grew from a tiny mound to a small rod coming out of the landscape, to the murky shape of a sword, to a massive ziggurat towering above them. The whole site around the massive sword was ravaged and full of activity, looking like a stone quarry. The ruins of ancient stone buildings, overgrown with the powers of soil and time, were scattered around, the ground around them clearly churned up and tilled. A huge pit stretched out beyond the wrecked buildings, full of machinery and carts attached in every which way. On the edge of the pit, a fire burned, the scent of smoke faint in the air as the noises of talking and laughing filled the air.

What a place.

It looked beckoning to Oberon, who, despite his strength, was beginning to feel weary from the walk. Even with his strong, calloused soles, his feet were still tired and aching, and his neck and back hurt from the craning he had been doing. He hadn't brung many rations, so his belly had become a hard, hollow, cavity. He needed some food and rest, if they would accept them.

However, as they walked further into the camp, that seemed less likely. The workers began to stop their eating and resting, staring at the group of travelers and standing up, as if preparing for something. Which could be anything from a collective greeting, to a trap with hundreds of swords and twice as many fists. Oberon felt his hand instinctively curl tightly around the staff, knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip.

But luckily, an eccentric old man stepped out of his dwelling to cut the tension like a blade. Oberon assumed this was Lord Byron, judging by his lack of a right eye, scars aplenty, finely carved walking stick, and his lavish choice of fabrics, both in his clothes and his tent. He radiated a sense of confidence, curiosity, and mystery, seeming almost...otherworldly.

And then, an interesting question. What was he most proud of in himself? So many answers to that question, but none seemed to fit. He was proud of his martial arts, but anybody could do martial arts. This man was looking for something that would separate Oberon from the rest of his travelers, something that ensured he was the right choice. His magic? No, many could do magic...and he had caused pain with his magic spells. His nomadic lifestyle? That was a choice. What did he have?

Suddenly, the thought came to mind. After Frey, the spindly newcomer finished speaking, Oberon stepped forward, bowing his head to the old man.

"Sir, it's a pleasure to be in your presence." he rumbled in his deep, gravelly tone. "As for what I am proudest of in life, I am proudest of a three-month vow of silence I took close to a year ago. I did not speak a word for three months, and it helped focus my mind and strengthen myself immensely. It was the most rigorous challenge of my life."

[The Republic of Atria]

The trip was uneventful, much to Aayla's chagrin. Valan was quiet pretty much the entire way, meditating most likely. She always wondered how he could do it while walking. Maybe it was just a pyromancer thing, but it was still a little creepy, however after the one time she interrupted him and he very nearly lost it... Something she didn't intend to repeat. No one wanted to worry about a crazy fire mage on top of the goblin camp. Edward wasn't much for conversation either. Despite her attempts to get him to stop being so uptight, he remained firm in ignoring her. Lastly was the blind wizard girl. Which she felt was kind of awkward since she would almost certainly like to talk about magic, which she knew very little about.

So she was forced to be quiet. At least if she wanted to annoy people they normally yelled back, but this group seemed hellbent on withstanding her assault on their minds. So she silently pouted until they spotted someone in the distance with a bow. She was going to call it out, but figured Sir Grouchy would rather be the one to call it out.

Valan stayed quiet for the trip. Aayla clearly wasn't used to being this quiet around people for this long, she looked antsy. Truthfully, he felt a little bad for ignoring her, but it wasn't without reason. The job coming up required focus. And while there wasn't the risk of him accidentally burning down the woods like Edward feared, there was the risk of him loosing control and turning the goblin camp into a ash laden hellscape, including any hostages and valuables. Were it not for those two things, he'd gladly just go in and cut loose, teach the little greenskin bastards a lesson in power. Even though that would almost certainly have serious consequences with his standing in the Legion. Risk and stupidity and not listening to the guy in charge, etcetera.

The thoughts of going just a little crazy were quickly squashed and suppressed when Edward called out to someone in the distance. Valan quickly snapped out of his trance and drew his blade. It was a bit difficult to see that far away in his mask, but it wasn't a goblin. Goblins typically aren't that tall without being as wide to match it. Plus he had a bow, which Goblins also didn't use too often.

Powerful, beautiful yellow flames engulfed his blade and gathered in his offhand just in case. Most likely scenario was that it was just some random hunter or adventurer looking for trouble, but it never hurt to have a few fire balls ready to go.

Aayla pulled out two of her many knives. "Ehhh. Doesn't look hostile, his body language doesn't say anything weird, he's too calm. Maybe a bandit, but he'd have to be pretty stupid to start messing with the Legion. Probably just some guy who hates goblins and wants them gone. Like Ed but hopefully less melodramatic."

[Solisian Union]

Aaaaaaaaaaaarialista!

---

Just as her party and their leader were still chatting and gathering, Arialista looked around for any merchant or anyone really who was selling high quality mana potions. If there was going to be a fight somewhere along their journey, she would need those potions to quickly restore her mana to keep fighting well. She had no physical weapon of her own after she left the Archipelagoes. So she really needed that and she too had to find a cheap solid weapon to serve her until it was needed to use her summoning.

On the other hand, Arialista did not mind that nobody really approached her. She didn't want to talk to anyone else yet too and instead chose to wander a little off to find and buy the things she needed. Given the short time she spent, she returned to the party with at least 4 potions and a short sword. Once she did, she looked for a place to lean on and relax and she did. It was the wall of the office and there she leaned her back on it and squatted, just resting and closing her eyes for a bit until it was time for them to go and conduct their duties for the merchants.

[Confederation of the Equator]

[minecraft villager sound]

[Radea]

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Arden Rooke
Red Hill Caravan Company – Gathering area
--------------------------------------------------------------
Arden coughed lightly and swatted away the smoke with his hand, while nodding to the reply of Vulluin. “Your home has some cough exotic plants then, I take it. Where are you from? If you don’t mind me asking.”

It was apparent this was partially small talk coming from the human, but also habitual. It was a sort of gab that merchants or traderfolk often had. Filling the potential void of silence to avoid any awkward air. Coughing briefly once again to clear his lungs of miasma, Arden shrugged his shoulders to adjust his leather pack. His eyes scanned the same crowd that Vul’s did. It was then he noticed a human woman with a red cloak from earlier. Arie? Ariala? Arialstraia? Rooke couldn’t remember exactly. She sat low against the wall, eyes closed. The Heartlander had been on many caravans before (none with this much muscle) but anyone who felt outside the group could be trouble in unexpected ways. Ruffling in the side of his pack he found a green apple; misshapen and plucked from a young tree on the way over. Rooke had hoped to keep it for a travel snack but… he could endure waiting until supper.

Lobbing it gently, he hoped it would land in her lap. “Hey, you getting some shut eye this early? I hope you’re taking first watch in that case.”

[Nuridia]

The trip was uneventful, much to Aayla's chagrin. Valan was quiet pretty much the entire way, meditating most likely. She always wondered how he could do it while walking. Maybe it was just a pyromancer thing, but it was still a little creepy, however after the one time she interrupted him and he very nearly lost it... Something she didn't intend to repeat. No one wanted to worry about a crazy fire mage on top of the goblin camp. Edward wasn't much for conversation either. Despite her attempts to get him to stop being so uptight, he remained firm in ignoring her. Lastly was the blind wizard girl. Which she felt was kind of awkward since she would almost certainly like to talk about magic, which she knew very little about.

So she was forced to be quiet. At least if she wanted to annoy people they normally yelled back, but this group seemed hellbent on withstanding her assault on their minds. So she silently pouted until they spotted someone in the distance with a bow. She was going to call it out, but figured Sir Grouchy would rather be the one to call it out.

Valan stayed quiet for the trip. Aayla clearly wasn't used to being this quiet around people for this long, she looked antsy. Truthfully, he felt a little bad for ignoring her, but it wasn't without reason. The job coming up required focus. And while there wasn't the risk of him accidentally burning down the woods like Edward feared, there was the risk of him loosing control and turning the goblin camp into a ash laden hellscape, including any hostages and valuables. Were it not for those two things, he'd gladly just go in and cut loose, teach the little greenskin bastards a lesson in power. Even though that would almost certainly have serious consequences with his standing in the Legion. Risk and stupidity and not listening to the guy in charge, etcetera.

The thoughts of going just a little crazy were quickly squashed and suppressed when Edward called out to someone in the distance. Valan quickly snapped out of his trance and drew his blade. It was a bit difficult to see that far away in his mask, but it wasn't a goblin. Goblins typically aren't that tall without being as wide to match it. Plus he had a bow, which Goblins also didn't use too often.

Powerful, beautiful yellow flames engulfed his blade and gathered in his offhand just in case. Most likely scenario was that it was just some random hunter or adventurer looking for trouble, but it never hurt to have a few fire balls ready to go.

Aayla pulled out two of her many knives. "Ehhh. Doesn't look hostile, his body language doesn't say anything weird, he's too calm. Maybe a bandit, but he'd have to be pretty stupid to start messing with the Legion. Probably just some guy who hates goblins and wants them gone. Like Ed but hopefully less melodramatic."

“You scared me for a hot second.” Pan said from her vantage point, she had decided to stay with the mission after all lest she have nothing to do, but she figured she could do this without having to kill the infant goblins...it wasn’t that hard, was it? Part of her was wishing she had stayed home with that Telsor fellow, but then she wouldn't be able to help with the actual problem and the adult goblins had to be defeated. They were more than a nuisance, they were hard enough to deal with without them attacking.

“Alright, so when do we actually get to go to the merchants? I mean, I picked this mission because I figured it would be way easier than killing goblins and all that...who all are we actually waiting for?" Asra was leaning against a post, Alcide had taken a book out of his pocket and started reading to pass the time, looking around at some of their new team members. A new elf it seemed like had joined them, the one with the ridiculously long name? He couldn't pronounce it but it did start with A if he recalled correctly.

[Turmenista]

Luca Greyfoot
West Gate
__________________________________

Luca shrugged. Evidently, no one wanted the hardtack right now, and for good reason: most everyone had already eaten, of course. Though, Luca only smirked as he put away his hardened foodstuff, knowing very well that they were going to be all over him should they run out of food (or need extra armor to protect against arrows and the like). Of course, there always came the opportunity of finding something on the road to hunt, but Luca wasn't necessarily the greatest shot with a bow, nor was he willing to transform to hunt manually.

"Thanks for the offer, Luca, but I got myself well supplied," Roxana said awkwardly as Luca nodded, taking a look at the high elf's own food. "Understandable."

Damn elves. Can't go without their little party bags, can they?

Luca folded his arms as he listened to Roxana's response to his earlier query, about why Byron himself couldn't just take the heirloom back without their help. After all, it did seem quite sketchy to the Lycan, considering how he was essentially having the Legionnaires do his dirty work. A Lycan that was Byron's apparent age could easily take back the heirloom (provided they knew what they were doing), but, again, Lycans weren't humans. He huffed, only hoping that Byron could at least accompany them without suspiciously standing to the side, as Luca would've expected from a man his age.

The heirloom crew then was off, heading out of the West Gate as civilization slowly disappeared behind them. The sun beat down on them as they traveled down the road, occasionally passing by farmers or wagons on the highway. The only indications of civilization that the crew had, aside from the occasional windmills, was the same dull road they traveled down, only stopping for the occasional break (despite Luca not feeling tired at all—silly humans and their breaks.)

However, a good couple of hours into their journey, as Luca and the group traveled down the road, the Lycan suddenly swore, groaning at what he knew what the sudden pain on his soles were: sore feet.

__________________________________

Ahead of them was a massive sword-shaped monument that towered into the sky, set in the background of the sunset. The entire area around the sword was overgrown and ruined, half-buried under dirt while miners worked on excavating the area. Several dozen tents were around the site near a large bonfire, where workers talked, ate, rested, and laughed.

Again, Luca felt out of place. For as far as he could see, hear, and smell, there were no Lycans around. Just the reassurance I needed.

Staying clear of the pit's edge, the workers stopped what they were doing and looked at the group in awe, as if they were planning on something. Eyeing a weird-looking man in one of the groups, Luca was just about ready to take his sword out and swing when an old man came out of a large central tent, easing his anxiety. Undoubtedly, this had to be Lord Byron, judging by the eyepatch, but also by the way he presented himself, as if he knew the Legionnaires were coming. Luca relaxed his shoulders, moving his hand away from the hilt of Illumina.

His watchful amber eyes scanned the geezer. This must be Byron. Eyepatch gives it away.

"Welcome! Welcome! All of you must be the Legionnaires I sent for judging by your colorful cloaks,"

Yep. It's him. If the cloaks didn't give it away.

Luca folded his arms as the man then prompted them with a question: he asked them all one thing about themselves that they were the proudest of. A large grin formed on his face as his one good eye widened with a fashion all old people universally shared, which would've forced a smile out of most humans or elves. However, it just came off as spooky to Luca—the elders he knew were stoic and serious and wise, not giddy and hyperactive.

"Er..." Luca found himself answering last, looking around the area, looking for something good to say of himself. "Well, I haven't accidentally killed anyone yet when I transform into my True Form, and I've maintained good control over it for most of my life. That's something no ordinary Lycan can do."

[Andsed]

---

Lilion Tabraham


I nodded to Sylanna instructions to meet at the office of the Red Hill company in 20 minutes and quickly jogged back to my bunk. The bunk was small but compared to sleeping on the streets or in a forest it was incredibly welcomed. I had left some of my stuff on my bunk and I quickly began getting ready. A few minutes I was ready to go with my leather armor covering my chest, legs, and arms with no helmet which I really should get soon. My sword was sheathed on my waist and my pack carrying food, water and other survival necessitates slung on my back with my cloak draped over my back as well.

I jogged back out to the meeting point and saw the group along with a merchant. As I walked over and decided to just watch the proceedings.

[Absolon-7]

City of Velathri, Republic of Velathri

Pier Luigi looked nervously at the crowd of Legionnaires while tugging at his collar. The snow elf, Sylanna, was reasonable enough and it she seemed wasn't making any suspicions obvious. Good thing she wasn't bringing anything up or else Guidantonio might call him out. As he and the snow elf chatted he spotted the Legionnaires appear one by one. First was some man-at-arms and armored woman, next came an cloaked man, a wood elf, an eastern looking woman, and a lightly armored man. He wished better help could have come such as his initial heavily armored guards but that incident put them all out of commission. Glancing over over Sylanna’s shoulder towards her, his eyes lighted up at once.

“Aha, Sylanna. This is who I was just talking to you about.” Gesturing towards the Paladin the man introduced her to the group. “This is Lady Yvonne Delacroix, a Paladin of the Church of the Divines. One of the original escorts contacted me on her behalf this morning for the job.”

Now for this woman he was thankful. Instead of the exorbitant price of the legionnaires' pay he submitted to the guild he could just pay this one normally and the original guard wages. Soon after the rest of the stragglers showed up to the office's front and signaled Pier to lead them to the caravan. Pier shouted, "Alright everyone! We'll be heading out now. A fair warning however, it'll take a few days time to circle back to Velathri from Ostia. So I do hope all of you brought your provisions as we are contractually not obligated to provide for you. Tally ho!"

Leading at the front of the group he lead them down the plaza to one of the main roads of the city where beasts of burden where allowed. In front of the group they would have seen six covered wagons with light red tarps covering them and mostly being pulled by well bred mules. The first wagon had a more ornate tarp indicating it has the default office that would contain contracts, bank notes, records, receipts, and coinage. The second wagon, if looked inside, would contain many fine crafted materials such as clocks, construction tools, and kitchenware. The third through fifth wagon contained many valuable spices. The sixth wagon contained generic goods and a fair portion of the caravan's supplies for themselves. Pier spoke up at the group, "Each wagon should have room for two to four of you in the inside. I know all of you know this but please don't touch the merchandise and don't disturb the drivers. Everyone got it? Good."

He walked over to the first wagon and climbed over in front where the driver was sitting. Nodding at the middle aged man, the driver waved the mules' reins and made them start heading out. Slowly this caused a chain reaction of the other wagons beginning to move. Slowly before picking up speed and then having a steady pace the caravan passed by the city gate and onto the eastern highway. It was several hours until the grassy prairies started to thicken up with vegetation and the caravan came to a crossroads. One way was the regular paved highway and the other was a dry dirt road that lead up to what seemed like a forest. Pier directed his wagon's driver to turn to the dirt road and thus the rest followed. As they began entering the dark Tarchuna Forest a few minutes later, off in the distance an indescribable ear piercing sound in the treetops disturbed a huge flock of white cranes that flew right over the passing caravan.

"The hell was that?" muttered Pier and looking at his driver who was just a clueless.

"You know this is just gonna be your comeuppance, Pier," spoke a gravely voice from behind. Looking back he spotted a well dressed and heavily bearded man peak out from the wagon's curtains. It was Guidantonio, the assistant merchant on this venture, throwing salt at Pier's wounded nerves. The bastard must have thought this would be a fine moment to stop his calculations and be snippy.

"Oh, shut it. You're as guilty as I am!," barked Pier.

"Sure I am. Sure I am," with the last words he hid back inside to do who knows what. Clearing his throat, Pier stood up and turned to face the other wagons while holding onto the wooden railings. He shouted, "Don't be alarmed all of you. Everything will be fine! We're going to keep going forward and stay in the well lit areas of the woods! Just stay inside the moving wagons!"

[Union Princes]

Inquisitor Strauch

Wilhard was practically becoming as statue in front of the building as he waited for the rest of the party to arrive. He sprang to life when the merchant alerted the party and lead them to the caravans. Marching in a military drill, the Witch Hunter followed the merchant to the caravans that they would soon be escorting. Taking note of the inventory, it became clear that the merchant was a spice trader most of the time. No wonder he needed guards since spices are a highly sought after commodity and roads are seldom safe from bandits and rogues.

Taking out his pen, black ink, and slips of paper as he examine the wares, the Inquisitor became writing a specific rune on the paper while muttering several lines of a spell. After he was finished with one, Strauch covertly placed the paper between two planks of wood on the back of the wagon, almost like a talisman for the caravan. To the onlooker, the paper was blank and firmly stuck in the crevices. However, what it truly looked before the charm was activated was this:

After he was done with his sixth talisman for the last wagon, Strauch entered it and proceed to claim his spot at the back of the wagon. As the caravans traveled into the forest, Wilhard had already made another charm and attached it to his trinket. This one can be seen with the naked eye:

When the ferocious scream erupted through the forest, the Witch Hunter remained unfazed though he pondered out loud on what it was. "Hmmm." Strauch mumbled, "Was it a banshee? Troll? Hmmmm...Dragon? No, too high pitched."

He soon decided to peek his head outside the wagon to look at the rune he placed. Sure enough, the rune was faintly revealed after being invisible for quite some time. Whatever the creature of person was, it is present and it is near their location. Going back inside the wagon, Strauch ignored the merchant's assurances and placed his hand on the hilt of his rapier.

[Confederation of the Equator]

[minecraft villager sound]

[Toaslandia]

Hadrian looked at the fourth wagon. "I'l bee taking the fourth wagon." He walked over and climbed in setting his small bag near one of the corners of the wagon, facing the opening. He heard a shriek and pulled out his sword and poked his head out of the wagon. He saw Strauch leaning out of his wagon and checking a faint glow on it. "Strauch! What was that? Sounded like a young ogre or goblin!"
====================================================================================================================
Andorran Krel had listened to the merchant and the others claim bunks, but before she claimed hers, she heard a terrible shriek. "Strauch must have set up a few runes and some bloke was unlucky enough to run into it." she mused. She headed over to the fourth wagon and threw her stuff inside. She had thought that this was Strauch's wagon, but it was Hadrian's, who proceeded to yell "Watch where you're throwing that, you dolt!" Krel proceeded to move her bag to the other side of the wagon and stare daggers at Hadrian, who did the same back.

[Absolon-7]

Roxana Ma'gonid

---

Roxana stood perplexed by Byron's out of the blue question. What did this have to do with anything? Well from his records, she did gather that he was quite an oddball. Well it was a harmless question but one that would take some thinking. While she thought of her answer she paid attention to her party member's responses. Simion hesitated for a bit which she was curious for the reason before predictably choosing his handcannon. Nest was Harlad stating his pirde in his experience as a miner. Frey followed up with always keeping his word and she hoped that was true if not well...Mithra have mercy on them. Oberon was next and his answer was surprising taking a vow to be silent for three months. It must have been so annoying but he doesn't look the type to talk a lot either. Finally, Luca was the last to answer with explaining he's never killed anyone while transformed.

"Excellent answers all you!," said Byron clapping before looking at Roxana, "But I do believe one of you hasn't answered yet."

"Well you caught me. Let's see...," grumbled Roxana, "As for what I am proudest of.....I can one hundred percent say that my pride lies in my work ethic and never failing a contract the past few years."

"Interesting answer. I hope this one continues your streak," said Byron with a devilish grin on his face and turning around signalling the group to follow him. "Now please this way. I'll lead you to your tent. And hand your donkey to a stablehand, Purplecloak. Wouldn't be appropriate inside."

The old man lead the group to a secondary large tent next to the tent he exited. Inside where several bunkbeds, chests, and other assorted items. At the center was a sizable table filled with a variety of food such as roasted pork, wine, bread loaves, and other assorted foods on silver platters. Three pronged candles created a bright glow inside the room in which Byron walked to the seat in front of the table and promptly sat himself down. "All of you please sit, sit. And leave whatever packs your carrying anywhere. I'm sure most of you have many questions on this venture," spoke Byron taking a sip of a goblet of juice and stroking his thick white beard.

Roxana walked to the bunkbed closest to the entrance and left her bow, quiver, and bags in the higher up mattress. Silently she hoped Simion wouldn't take the bed beneath hers. As she walked to the dinner table Roxana was the first to respond, "Yes, we do and I'll be first to start," said Roxana taking a seat by Byron. "Just what are we getting ourselves into? I'm not going with a group full of Redcloaks into some barrow that wasn't even described in the contract."

"Understandable, quite understandable," said Byron, "Well, I suppose I'll give you a primer. Down below in the Tomb Chamber should be a box my father left behind decades ago when he was out exploring. What is in that box I don't know but I know it is very important. This group of workers were busy clearing rooms out of the barrow when suddenly someone activated a trap and several magical constructs came to life and slaughtering workers. It's mostly a few animated armors and summoned aberrations. I do know that there is a large open hall before the tomb chamber. " The old man was quiet for a few seconds before suddenly getting up an heading to the tent's entrance, "My apologies but there is something I must attend to before all of you leave for the barrow next morning. Feel free to eat to your fill and to make merry."

Roxana watched Byron leave with a small frown and a twitching eyebrow showing her displeasure. Talk about unprofessional. Who would just leave a group of Legionnaires in the middle of a briefing? Whatever, it could wait for the morning she supposed. Filling her plate with dried dates and some honeyed chicken legs, Roxana looked up at her group and said, "So does anyone else think that was all kinds of off?"

[Finland SSR]

Roxana Ma'gonid

---

Harald of Stoutshield

---

Frey Farwind

Oberon Klask

Luca Greyfoot
West Gate
__________________________________

Simion Valerin, the marksman from Nur!

---

Thankfully, Simion did not stand out too much - nobody took the opportunity to boast and steal the show from everyone else. Despite the relative humility of the Legionnaires, Byron congratulated all of them with a job well done - so perhaps his goal this whole time was not to hear some boastful stories from a bunch of novices, but rather take an easy shortcut to learn about what kind of people he's dealing with here. If so, then consider him victorious, because this brief episode reinforced the personalities and backgrounds of each of the fellow Legionnaires to Simion: Harald as a simple and stout Dwarf, Frey as a somewhat suspicious, but still trustworthy brigand, Oberon as a pathetic uncivilized primitive, Luca as a Lycan trying to control his animalistic behavior, and Roxana as a vain higher-up trying to impress her new underlings with a streak of victories.

Nice.

With all that dealt with, Byron led the group into a secondary tent, complete with bunk beds, chests and a table adorned with various delicacies in the center. The dining table and the beds in the same room, huh? That's just asking for the scent of the dishes to wake you up at night. There's a reason why civilization has invented a thing called 'multiple rooms in one house'. Lacking too much of a preference on where he's going to sleep - it was a one-night rest, after all - Simion pulled off his hand cannon and bag and placed in on the bed below Roxana's, silently hoping that the Elven archer didn't have a tendency to snore.

With that dealt with, the scene moved on to the dining table, where Byron sat down and offered to answer the team's questions about the venture... for approximately half a minute, before he suddenly stood up in the middle of answering Roxana's question and spoke that he had to go and attend to something, even though there was nobody or nothing informing him of anything urgent. The elf was left puzzled and slighted, as could easily be discerned from her face, and while Simion didn't share her irritation, he certainly understood where the confusion came from.

Not to mention that it's, of course, highly rude.

Filling up his glass with wine - a dink he hadn't had the chance to taste for years on end thanks to the lifestyle he chose, so any opportunity to change that was worth taking to him - and picking up a soft bun to go along with it, Simion offered his thoughts:

"Clearly, that was a question he didn't want to answer. Or, while answering, he stumbled across something he didn't want to reveal." After a sip, the marksman turned his eyes towards Roxana. "Which makes it even weirder that he wants to keep something as basic as the background of the mission a mystery."

If you take the second theory though... well, if Simion recalled it correctly, Byron's last words before departure were mentioning magical constructs slaughtering workers and a large open hall before the tomb chamber. One of those two has something suspicious happening, then.

[Radea]

---

---

Arden Rooke
Red Hill Company Caravan
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Before Arden saw if the woman awoke from his tossed apple, the merchantmen began describing the trek, commanding the attention of the young man. “A few days? I should have enough provisions… 10 days should cover it, right?” His thoughts bounced between confidence and questioning.
The Legion group and assorted merchantmen began moving towards six covered wagons of respectable size. They reminded the Heartlander of the many caravans he had been part of throughout his years. With a huff of laughter through his nose and a wise smirk, Arden felt more confident about his chances. This, he confidently felt, was just going to be easy as unloading crates and barrels, making some quick coin, and going home. Better than anything risky by leagues.

Adjusting his leather pack, Rooke began patting himself down to make sure he had all his necessary equipment belted up. It was never good to have anything loose on the move. Chaffing at worst, stabbed by your own axe at best. However, the wagons began moving out before he even realized. The human managed to catch a glimpse of Vul, his wood elf friend, in the third wagon. As long as it wasn’t the first or last wagon, that was dandy with Arden. The first and last required the most work and were the first targeted during attacks. Running like a child late for class, the Heartlander bounded past the rear two carts, his pack bouncing.

Catching his foot on the rear wooden trough of the covered wagon, Arden hoisted himself into bed of the cart. With a satisfying thud, he fell onto his knees and chest but quickly pushed himself up and sat on his rear. Rooke had a goofy smile on his face to cover his temporary embarrassment. Throwing open one flap of the cloth bonnet, Arden rested his arm on the rear grate; his hand out the back of the wagon. He’d offer to help anyone up and over if others wanted to join the two. “Spices, huh?” The human began, gesturing to the casks, “This stuff may not seem like much, but it’ll catch a pretty penny overseas I’m told. You know it reminds me of the –“ For a long while, with some pauses, Rooke filled the air with his voice talking to himself, no one in particular, and anyone who listened.

As the covered wagons made their way into the dark forest, the shrill cry of something inhuman caused wild birds to make flight. Arden pulled back the flap more, and looked around for what made the cruel cry. Rooke trusted his eyes more than the calming words of Pier, the caravan leader. “So much for the milk run…” He said with a frustrated sigh.

[The Empire of Tau]

So, these are the adventurers? Not really what Ahmed el-Hammad expected, but it was whatever. “I’ll assist in your quest to disassemble the greenskin infestation,” Ahmed decided to help the group on their quest to murder some greenskins. “My name is Ahmed el-Hammad,” the man said, carefully bypassing his traps and walking closer to the group. “I assume that you’re heading out to the same entrance as described by your provider?” Ahmed asked, looking about the forest for any sights of danger lurking.

[Charmera]

The trip was uneventful, much to Aayla's chagrin. Valan was quiet pretty much the entire way, meditating most likely. She always wondered how he could do it while walking. Maybe it was just a pyromancer thing, but it was still a little creepy, however after the one time she interrupted him and he very nearly lost it... Something she didn't intend to repeat. No one wanted to worry about a crazy fire mage on top of the goblin camp. Edward wasn't much for conversation either. Despite her attempts to get him to stop being so uptight, he remained firm in ignoring her. Lastly was the blind wizard girl. Which she felt was kind of awkward since she would almost certainly like to talk about magic, which she knew very little about.

So she was forced to be quiet. At least if she wanted to annoy people they normally yelled back, but this group seemed hellbent on withstanding her assault on their minds. So she silently pouted until they spotted someone in the distance with a bow. She was going to call it out, but figured Sir Grouchy would rather be the one to call it out.

Valan stayed quiet for the trip. Aayla clearly wasn't used to being this quiet around people for this long, she looked antsy. Truthfully, he felt a little bad for ignoring her, but it wasn't without reason. The job coming up required focus. And while there wasn't the risk of him accidentally burning down the woods like Edward feared, there was the risk of him loosing control and turning the goblin camp into a ash laden hellscape, including any hostages and valuables. Were it not for those two things, he'd gladly just go in and cut loose, teach the little greenskin bastards a lesson in power. Even though that would almost certainly have serious consequences with his standing in the Legion. Risk and stupidity and not listening to the guy in charge, etcetera.

The thoughts of going just a little crazy were quickly squashed and suppressed when Edward called out to someone in the distance. Valan quickly snapped out of his trance and drew his blade. It was a bit difficult to see that far away in his mask, but it wasn't a goblin. Goblins typically aren't that tall without being as wide to match it. Plus he had a bow, which Goblins also didn't use too often.

Powerful, beautiful yellow flames engulfed his blade and gathered in his offhand just in case. Most likely scenario was that it was just some random hunter or adventurer looking for trouble, but it never hurt to have a few fire balls ready to go.

Aayla pulled out two of her many knives. "Ehhh. Doesn't look hostile, his body language doesn't say anything weird, he's too calm. Maybe a bandit, but he'd have to be pretty stupid to start messing with the Legion. Probably just some guy who hates goblins and wants them gone. Like Ed but hopefully less melodramatic."

"I ask what you are plan-thinking while hiding." Spoke a voice suddenly, at an even and stealthy, if naturally shrill, pitch.

If the adventurers turned around to see the source of the voice, the would see a small ratlike humanoid, two goatlike horns growing from his head. It wasn't quite clear if he was naturally short, or the hunch in his back had left him closer to the ground. The humanoid rodent, out of instinct, calmly let go of his staff and put his hands up, palms to those he was speaking to, showing he did not have any weapons in his hands. His staff dropped to the floor, though Tkir knew he could easily pick it back up.

"You want kill-kill the goblin-things. This is worthy goal, one which Seer Tkir-Tan Shiknar would be happy to help" He explained. "Of course, for a share of loot-treasure from the goblin camp. Much can be sold-sold for coin."

The adventurers may have also noticed the massive ratlike beast that accompanied Tkir. An overmuscled, exagerated version of the smaller ratman. It was both a fearsome and strange sight, as the thing seemed reluctant to move.

Tkir realized the threat Krog might post, so calmly spoke. "Do not worry-fear my companion will smash-kill you manthings." Tkir offered. "Krog is good, kind familiar, are you not Krog?"

"Krog not know what kind means."

Tkir frowned in annoyance. "Krog is also very stupid, so you need not concern that he will smash you of own will. He need explicit order to walk-move right."

[Tomia]

Annabelle
Annabelle walked in solitude along a forested road outside of McDooggle Bluff, returning to the Velathri from a mission. She wore a bright red set of armor, though for a legionnaire it wasn't particularly special. She had no horse and carried nothing but a long-sword and small bag of supplies with her. Annabelle wasn't a particularly well known member of the legion, having only joined a year ago and having no real feats to her name, she was mostly ignored among the world and her fellow members. This was just fine with her, she'd rather not draw attention to herself, hoping to hide from her past for at least a little while longer. As she walked along the road, she had a feeling that she wasn't alone. She gripped her blade, the paranoia that had been sitting at the bottom of her stomach since arriving at the legion crept it's way into her chest.

Is this an ambush? Have they found me? The thoughts ran through her mind and she forced herself to focus. She continued walking slowly towards the bushes near the woods that seemed to be the source of the presence. "Who's there, show yourself." She said calmly and fairly quietly, in case she was actually just being paranoid.