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You had the dream again. That dark and faceless banner...
You awaken slowly, coming to terms with the low ceiling of the Recruits Bunkhouse. The place had become all too familiar over the past few months. You look around to see some of the Recruits still slumbering, most already awake, preparing themselves, and some just now waking as you had.
You stand and shake the drowsiness from your mind. It was the third time you'd had the dream this week. A warning maybe, but of what?
From the small box at the foot of your bed, you don your Chainmail. It's a good piece to have, compared to the leather Jerkins and such of your peers. The Mail is bound to a leather backing, preventing rattling, leaving it considerably stealthier than had it been let to move free. The suit is covered by the dark Trousers and Tunic. A pair of rough leather gloves don't nearly match the boots, which aren't worn quite as well. You don the black felt cloak, which wraps around your neck like a scarf before forming the hood. Over it, you don the blue-grey Cloak of Ranger Recruits, which is bound with a simple clasp, and made of a rough material, the make of which they haven't yet told you. Several leather belts cross your torso, binding your equipment to you.
As the last of the sleeping Recruits wakes, you see the others heading out the door. |
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simsf1Join Date: 2009-12-27
Post Count: 10905 |
Follow my kinsmen outside the Bunkhouse, wrapping the cloaks around me to guard from the winter cold as I exit.
As I go, I attempt to collect my bearings, being especially forgetful this morning. Who are my friends here? Where are we exactly? How did I gain my nickname of the "Dragon of Falkirk," and, "the Black Dragon"? |
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Most of the other recruits were put off at first by your moody demeanor and reclusive nature. This didn't much bother Simon and Jans though. Ranger Training has really helped you open up, but first impressions are the most important, and though the other recruits don't dislike you for any particular reason, they still simply leave you be for the most part.
Simon was a rather pudgy lad when he arrived, and very bookish. Months of training with the Rangers trimmed him down to shape though, and you hadn't realized just how much taller than you he was when he still carried the weight. He took most easily to the Field Skills and such, becoming one of the best of the pack in Herbology and Animal Behaviors.
Jans is just a smidge shorter than you, and speaks with a rather bizarre accent. The name is pronounced like yawns, for example. The accent faded with time spent around the others, but it's still there, and still quite strong. The boy is an uncanny Tracker, and a lethatl shot with his bow. According to him, his father was a woodsman. He won't tell much else of his father, but you know the eyes of an Orphan all too well.
"The Black Dragon", came from a combination of your Reclusiveness and your black clothing. It was devised in good sport, and you don't take much offense in it. The "Dragon of Falkirk" came afterward, when the Swordsmanship instructor dubbed you so, playing off of the other nickname.
Falkirk, of course, is the Castle in which you have lived for some months now, inhabited solely by the Rangers. Not entirely solely actually, a veritable fleet of skilled craftsman reside here, filling in where the Rangers cannot. Many of the craftsman are Rangers themselves, skilled in trades of their past lives. Falkirk is not well centralized among Mankinds strongholds, being in the Southeast quadrant of the Reach, nonetheless, even the farthest cities are well looked after by us.
(If you've ever read Mouse Guard this will all be very familiar)
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simsf1Join Date: 2009-12-27
Post Count: 10905 |
((I have not, but I must say you've done quite a good job at this. Though I can't speak for "Mouse Guard," I can say that the Order reminds me quite a lot of the Night's Watch from Game of Thrones/ASoIaF.))
The memories swarm back, as they always do on mornings like this. How could I have forgotten Simon and Jans? They were the only ones who'd ever truly reached out to me, and they'd never have done so well as they had without personal sparring practice with me in our free time. |
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(Mouse Guard is pretty cool. It's a graphic novel.
TBH though, I didn't really have a name for the place until you asked where the nicknames came from. Like ho tf am I supposed to know? But it came out in the end.)
The Recruits gathered in front of the podium, where they had gathered every day before Lessons. Several were visibly giddy, all were well aware of Today. The last few filtered in from the Bunkhouse, and Ranger Sergeant Mays cleared his throat.
"For these past Three Months, You've learned everything there is to teach about the Skills of a Ranger. Make no mistake, there is still much more for you to learn, and pass on to the rest of the Order, experience is the finest teacher there is.
"Today however, is not a Lesson in Fieldcraft or Combat. It is a Lesson on The Wild. One last Trial before you are True Rangers. Today, you learn of the enemy we face. In Teams of five, you will complete your assignment. This task will be a true Ranger Mission, taken from The Board as deemed suitable for Recruits."
So that was the Final Trial. A Real Mission, of the ones we will have to complete as fully-fledged Rangers. Ones we'll have to do alone in the future.
Simon and Jans shuffle to your side, and you can see others doing the same, forming groups, hopeful that they'll be paired with friends. Mays smirks.
"Yes, you'll be selecting your Team for this." |
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simsf1Join Date: 2009-12-27
Post Count: 10905 |
((I'm going to switch over to third person.
Also, I get names from historical names- Falkirk is a town in Scotland at which William Wallace was defeated by the English. Just study history and you'll find that creativity comes soon after.))
Alistair breathed heavily as the Sergeant spoke, the mist of his breath warming the air directly outside his mouth. It seemed as if his life were coming to an end to him, that come the end of this Trial, he would wake the next day a different person, a poltergeist in possession of his own body.
And yet, as the speech went on, another feeling pervaded his spirit- hope. A new life came ahead, and until joining the Order he'd had no family. Now he did, and his life would be given over to the Rangers to protect his brethren, Jans and Simon included.
And now they were going out, into the Wild, for the first time in years. Could Alistair prove himself a Dragon after all, both reclusive and fierce? He hoped so, for his own sake and for that of his friends, both exemplary fighters in their own right (if not quite comparable to Alistair's own skills). The feeling of hope multiplied as he discovered his ability to select his team, with Alistair looking with subtle happiness at his companions. The young man rarely displayed his emotions, and tried his best to avoid feeling them. Today, it seemed, he could not help himself.
However, responsibility came before celebration, and for once Alistair opened his mouth to speak first. "So," he began simply, "who else is going to join our merry little band?" This was directed at his friends. |
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Jans shrugs and Sam thinks for a moment.
"I wonder if Erin has a group yet."
"I don't"
Sam visibly stiffens at the appearance of the girl who had just materialized behind him.
Erin was a good head shorter than Jans, and a wiry figure.She was alarmingly stealthy. It was frankly uncanny how quiet she was sometimes. You swear you could string a cowbell to the girl and still not hear her coming.
Sam recovered his faculties.
"Well, care to join our 'merry little band'?"
Erin glanced at each of you in turn, holding her gaze on you the longest. She nods.
(Oh darn, I'm still working in the first person. Meh, I'll just switch next post.) |
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simsf1Join Date: 2009-12-27
Post Count: 10905 |
Alistair found that the little stone man that formed his facade was never left intact under those eyes. He'd never felt anything resembling social anxiety until he'd met Erin, and he'd found then that social stabs were much worse than anything thrown his way by means of steel. It was a strange pain.
Still, the Dragon had trained himself far too much to allow his composure to be broken by even the fairest of young girls.
Maintaining his cold, unyielding stare, Alistair smiled slightly as he spoke. "It's a lovely thing to have a shadow joining our company, but if my mathematics training has even taught me the bare minimum of the field, I could still point out that adding one to three makes four, which still isn't five." |
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"An astute observation," say Erin.
Sam rolls his eyes and Jans chuckles.
You look around the cluster of Recruits, looking for stragglers, when one approaches your group on his own.
You recognize him as Marcus. He's the oldest of the Recruits, almost 30 you think. Something of a Jack of All Trades, though hardly a Master of None. He was quite formidable in every field of Ranger Study. You suppose his truest asset is his physical strength, being the oldest.
"I don't suppose you all need a Fifth?" |
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simsf1Join Date: 2009-12-27
Post Count: 10905 |
Alistair is once again uncharacteristically speaks. "We do, actually."
The Dragon had always liked Marcus. Both were men of few words, though Marcus probably spoke considerably more often than Alistair, and both were silent masters. No one had ever bested Alistair at the blade, but Marcus was never an easy opponent.
"So," he spoke again, "I believe adding one more to four is five. You're the studious one here, Erin, so do tell me if my mathematics are correct." |
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"My my," Erin chuckles, "I didn't know you were such an avid mathematician."
Marcus and Sam grin, and Jans looks like he's about to burst. |
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simsf1Join Date: 2009-12-27
Post Count: 10905 |
Alistair did not dwell on his humorous success. He didn't even laugh. With a slight smirk, however, he looked towards the Sergeant. "I wonder what sort of test he has in mind," the Dragon ventured aloud. |
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The others didn't dwell on your success either.
You see the other clumps of students, having finally gathered themselves into groups of 5, shift over to the vast, worn out length of plank board, covered in old nails, and scraps of paper. As you peer at the board, you're somewhat awestruck at the variety of task denoted by the papers. Some are Stronghold governors, begging for aide in some form or another, others bear rough drawings of faces, and bounty values, Some are written in the peasant script, worded almost cordially, bringing the ails of their homes to the attention of the Rangers, as though they're unsure of the proper etiquette of asking for help.
Groups poke through the array of papers, on the board, nearly 30 feet long or so. THere's room for your group to move in an examine a portion of the mess. |
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simsf1Join Date: 2009-12-27
Post Count: 10905 |
Alistair did not waste time. Silent but imposing, he pushed his way toward the spot. Normally the other Rangers gave him wide berth, and he expected no less now as he moved towards the board. He made sure every few seconds that his companions were close behind, and stopped when he reached the board.
"What do you all want to do?" Alistair asked briefly, staring at each of the papers. |
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Erin pulls one of the posters, emblazoned with BOUNTY across the top. The man on it had a pretty mean look to him, big nose, which had clearly been broken, maybe a few times, and beady eyes. Hard to feel bad for someone who looks like that. The Value wasn't much, 500 silvers, payed by the Briarwall Court Authority, to the Ranger Order, naturally.
Marcus is staring intently at a sheet, crisp among the wrinkled and worn sheets around it. It bore the Ranger seal, meaning it was directly from the High Rangers, here in Falkirk. It bore a very simple map, with a route marked out. The words written on it spoke of a Patrol that must be made before the given date, which would elapse in about two weeks. Seems pretty routine.
Sam is frowning over a sheet of paper, torn around the edges. It's a letter from a miller in Acker. He swears he was looking out a window, and saw a pack of wild dogs attack a stag out in the field. But he noticed that the pack was being led by no dog, but a Direwolf, as he describes it. He tells of it turning towards his window, and displaying golden eyes, bright as moons. A direwolf is no threat to be taken lightly, for most anyway. For a Ranger, it's a hazard among many.
Jans is just pretending to skim the papers. He doesn't seem too concerned in what mission is chosen, which you could interpret as faith in the abilities of the team, if you like. |
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simsf1Join Date: 2009-12-27
Post Count: 10905 |
Alistair observes each of them with an open mind, considering each in turn before looking at the next. Marcus was a warrior, just like the Dragon, but a Patrol... was this really the best way to go? Too simple.
The Dire Wolf... They did not want to make such a name for themselves so quickly, but perhaps he would return to this.
It was Erin's choice which caused Alistair the most consideration. Such a brute of a man. Could he be a crime boss? A war criminal? But no, he could not allow his imagination run so wild yet. "Erin," he beckoned quickly. "What are the man's crimes?"
((going to bed, soz, luv u)) |
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"Extortion, Loansharking, petty crimes yada yada yada... and Assault with a bladed weapon. Sounds like a real charmer." |
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simsf1Join Date: 2009-12-27
Post Count: 10905 |
"Briarwall..." Alistair considers this and looks at the patrol route. Does it run near Briarwall? |
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The patrol route is rather oblong, stretching off of common roads at length between strongholds. One of the Holds is Ridgefield, just a few miles to the East of Briarwall. It wouldn't be terribly difficult to divert to Briarwall, and few would care if you made such a light deviation from the Route. |
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simsf1Join Date: 2009-12-27
Post Count: 10905 |
I look at the third paper. "Where is this 'Dire Wolf' located? Near Briarwall or anywhere else on the route?" |
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The Dire Wolf was spotted outside of Larkholm, some 10 miles Southwest of Falkirk, quite out of the way of the Patrol route. You'd be able to make the Patrol deadline, provided you survive that long, but you'd look like quite a ponce taking on 3 missions as your Initiation Trial, that's assuming Sergeant Mays will even let you. |
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simsf1Join Date: 2009-12-27
Post Count: 10905 |
He tossed the Peasant's request back to the board. Or... nailed it back up, rather. Alistair held the patrol route and the bounty up. "We take the two of them." He looked at the group for acceptance. |
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(I don't know when it happened but I started calling Simon Sam.)
Hopefully a more Veteran Ranger will be able to take care of the Beast.
The others nod, satisfied with the convenient arrangement of the Missions, and hoping that taking two missions doesn't make them look like a bunch of Ponces. The mass of Recruits reforms around the Meeting Grounds, and each group steps forwards to Mays, that he may examine the chosen missions.
Finally, your group steps up to the podium, and hands the pair of papers to Ranger Sergeant Mays.
"Two?"
He examines the papers, then nods, obviously seeing the opportunity between them.
"Well, if you lot can handle two, then by all means, accomplish two."
He returns the papers to you, and the last group steps forwards, receiving the go ahead from Mays. He addresses the group yet again.
"Take the rest of the day to pack and prepare, Tomorrow, your missions commence." |
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simsf1Join Date: 2009-12-27
Post Count: 10905 |
Alistair only nodded in response. He never really spoke much, eh? The Dragon observed the route again. It went pretty far North. Almost to those border towns. Wasn't there a war going on somewhere in the region?
He moved onward, looking closely at each of the leaflets. This man... he would make short work of him, he swore. No way he would lay a finger on Simon or Jans or Marcus or... Erin. The thought of the man even looking at her filled Alistair with anger. In fact, ANY man caught gawking at her or saying something lewd got Alistair's wrath on the training field. Not that he'd ever let anyone know why, but... It was, as he'd said before, a strange feeling he had for her.
Looking behind him once he got out of the crowd, the Black Dragon looked at his friends. "I'd say we got a good pick, eh?" |
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Marcus speaks up,
"Well, they fit nicely."
Simon nods. |
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