[Private] A Station Much Too Large For A Garrison Of One

By the time the four of us reach the tower built to house my brotherhood, it is nearing dusk.

Orange covers the western sky, half-covered by the tower as we near the entrance (I imagined it Southwest of Meldos a wase).

"Make y'selves comfortable but not too much. Scouts are bound to be crawling about the area soon enough if not already."

"Be on yeh guha'd. We may not be alohne out he'e."

I unlock the door and push on the handle. The walls all cobblestone, the floors a stone brick. 

A fireplace to the right. Embers are all that is left.

"I'll get sohme light in here."

I take a candle and light it using the embers. I then throw another log in and add some kindling to get it going. Afterwards, I light two lanterns with the candle and then blow it out.

"Cahn't risk too much light.

On the wall hangs a banner. A golden cross on a white background.

Instribed above the cross, "Humilitas Ferocia." Underneath, "Warriors of St. Michael."

Under the banner is an empty sword and shield mount.

On the oppasite side to the door is a door-sized archway and a staircase upward that curves along the wall, as well as one leading down.

"That rehoom ove' there is my pahntry. Have not hunted lately so we may need to do so in a bit."

"Upstai's a'e the barracks and, of cou'se, the a'm'ry. There a'en't that many weapons the'e but we don't need that many."

Y' should be able t' find something worth bringing t' sleep in inside the barracks."

As I was the only one left, my men allowed me to keep a halbard, long bow, and long sword, as well as the dagger, war hammer, and shield I have on me.

As for armor, I was left my personal set, a second set, and a light armor set.

"I'll be in my ohwn qua'te's for a bit."

[Somebody add! >.<]

After passing by the banner on her way to the armory, Hana says quietly to her self, "Humble ferocity. Heh, fitting..."
Upon replenishing her supply of arrows, she takes a byrnie of chainmail and makes her way back towards the door.
Her sending words were, "I'll be outside."

[Oh~ Hawkey!]

Hjork nods and bids farewell to the paladin, and takes a seat by the fire. As soon as he touches the chair all energy is drained from him and he simply rests, taking the occasional swig from his drinking horn that he managed to cling to in the flight.

With a heavy sigh and a slap of his hand against the hide chair, Hjork raises himself to his feet and expels a great belch.

"The more time we are spending here, the more time the enemies of Raiden have to murder the princess." He says gruffly, his thick Vjalddic accent penetrating the tense silence in the tower. Taking a final sip from his horn, he pours the remainder of his ale out of the window. No time for revelry now - only justice. His adoptive father was murdered in cold blood, sitting around in a stranger's tower would be disrespecting his memory.

"We must travel north, we may find some of my kin. They will be able to take us in and feed us."

"How is your night sight Vjald?"
Hana seems to have re-entered the room at some point, now leaning against the wall behind Tiber, but no previous sound alluded to the fact beforehand.
"For if we leave now, it'll be dark long before we arrive at our destination. So we either rest here for the night and risk the guard catching up to us, or venture forth into the darkness and risk running into the unsavory things of the night."
She bends her knee and pushes herself off of the wall to then walk over to the seat Tiber has recently abandoned.
"I recommend we remain here. The military of Faywyn is not known for it's ability to travel swiftly, or quietly for that matter."

"All the more reason for us to get a further headstart" Hjork replies. "Unsavoury things should be the ones to cower before Tiber Hjork!" He adds gruffly while holding his head high. "Greylings and vampires would not dare touch our merry band once they saw my axes."

Hana looks over to Magda, who's been quiet ever since they entered the tower.
"What say you, Magda?"
<You seem to have strange insights that have yet to fail>

Magda, who up to this point had simply sat in front of the fireplace and poked around in the remains of the previous fire, looked up. She looked a little worried, and had a deep frown on her face.

"I fear the Princess is in yet more danger... We need to hurry." She says, voice sounding hoarse.

As the last light faded from the western horizon, the mercenary pocketed his spyglass and jumped down from his perch in the trees.

Marching on through both day and night, he had followed the reports of the would-be rescuers. Tonight, finally, he would be upon his quarry.

He began to make his way down the hillside, towards the tower, watching the soft orange glow through the windows. Half a mile more, and he would be there at last…

"Then it is decided."
Hana begins walking outside before she stops at the door to turn around and say, "You best go wake up your friend upstairs"
<And hope he didn't get hit on the head too hard in that last battle>
She then proceeded to exit the tower and prepare her horse for travel.

He froze as a shadow moved across the windows, then emerged from the doorway and stopped in place for a brief moment. He silently dropped to the ground, his green-brown dappled cloak blending into the sparse foliage on the rocky soil, just before the shadow's owner came into view.

Her again.
Nigh eight hundred yards… but with that bow of hers, I'd best take care here.

Remaining prone, he continued to stalk forward.

Still up in the barracks, Scott finishes packing up any extra supplies and gear that would be considered worth the extra weight; illuminated by a single lit candle atop his night stand next to his bed in the far corner of the barracks.

Extra rations, a bed role, a minor amount of cooking supplies, some medical supplies-mostly consisting of bandages, and a small amount of other miscellaneous things, like a coil of rope and a tarp to sleep under in the rain.

Coupled with the gear he's already wearing (Soon to be accompanied by his combat helmet), there is more than enough weight to carry for this task.



"Grant me your guidance..."

A short prayer before lifting his helmet and resting it atop his head before lowering it down in front of his face.