[Closed SRP] Fort Hammergear

[The Madgod]

As Charles entered his tent off the road near Kharanos, he noticed an envelope on his small table, the only piece of furniture in the simple tent save a pair of chairs. Sitting down, he took one of the many knives he carried from its sheath and cut the envelope open so that he might read the parchment inside. He scanned the missive, quickly finishing it and setting it back on the table. It wasn't full of good news. The insurgents were doing... something. There was a lot more activity near Fort Hammergear. He grabbed his quill and paper and wrote a quick missive. Folding the paper, he put it into a fresh envelope, sealed it, and put it in one of his many pockets. Charles stood back up and left the tent to venture into the town.

The worgen headed straight for the inn, where he knew he would find his men. They've been worked hard over the past several years, what with the escalating Horde and Alliance conflict and everything in the world, really. Still, it was hardly an excuse for them to get drunk every other evening while they were stationed here. Charles didn't know whether or not these people were given to him as a test of his leadership or if SI:7 had begun to get so desperate for operatives that they went and hired as many seedy individuals from the alleyways of Stormwind as they could.

Immediately upon entering the inn the sound of revelry hit Charles' ears. Sighing again, he began the arduous task of looking around for one of his men that wasn't piss-drunk. After about eight rogues answering his queries in a slurred, rather zany way, he found a man who he could actually understand.

"Whuat.. what is it sir?"

"I need you to deliver a message."

"Cannit wait till morning?"

"No."

The man groaned and got up, swaying as he did so. "Fine, I guesh I'll have to go.."

Charles took the newly sealed envelope and gave it to the rogue. "Get to Stormwind as soon as possible, I need this in the hands of the higher ups yesterday.

"Got it shir..." Said the man, who then half-walked half-staggered his way out of the inn and to his horse, a look of disappointment clear on his face. It was obvious he was looking to get himself into the cozy blanket of drunkenness that evening.

Charles left soon after. Hopefully the reinforcements would arrive soon. That fort wouldn't be going down without them.

[Jordaen]

Exiting the great city of Ironforge, Asenya Straightarrow shudders at the sudden wind. Her cat, Resan stretches out as she checks her map, trying to recall the directions to a Sir Charles. After getting oriented, she descends the hill on foot, Resan following behind, resisting the urge to chase the local rabbits.

After a few minutes and slips down the hill, she arrives at Charles' tent. She clears her throat and calls out, "Hello? Mr. Charles? I'm Asenya...I've gotten wind of your troubles and I wish to help. I've got a bow, a cat, and a wicked aim..." she tempts, as she smooths her braid and makes sure her quiver is centered on her back, trying to look sharp to impress the man.

[The Madgod]

It was several days after he had sent that soldier to Ironforge for reinforcements. Charles was sitting in his tent when he heard a voice outside. Female, night elven. Probably one of the reinforcements, though it sounded like an unofficial one; not part of the military. He stood up and briskly walked out of the tent. She was indeed a night elf. Fairly pretty, but a bit too neat. He inwardly sighed, she didn't look like she had much experience. A quick glance to her side noted Charles of a large cat. In combination, they could be effective. Either way, he didn't have much choice in the matter. He put on a smile. "Well I'm sure you'll be a benefit, thank you for coming. I won't lie, things haven't been going very well recently... it's good to have some fresh blood."

[Sal the Shieldhog]

Larthian stopped near the edge of the game trail. The chilly wind blew past him, slightly rustling his clothes. He laid a hand upon a tree near him, inquiring it to tell of any towns. After a few minutes, the response came back, not in words but more of a feeling. Nodding, he gifted the tree with some of his energy in return.

Standing, he leaned slightly on his greatstaff and continued on his way. Presently, he came to the road leading towards the town and followed it, coming into the town itself. Seeing the tents arranged outside the town proper, Larthian searched for a certain human. He eventually found a human and night elf.

Figuring that they were as likely as not to be the ones he was looking for, he strode over and announced himself with a Rap! Rap! Rap! of his staff on the stones. Him cleared his throat slightly and said, "I am here to help as well. No fresh blood here though, I'm afraid." He slightly opened his cloak to reveal worn and tattered robes.

[Jordaen]

She takes a glance over his shoulder as he comes out of the tent, noting the sparseness. She smiles back at Charles, "Well I'm willing to help however I can."She noted his accent, Gilnean, and along with that she put the faint animalistic smell coming off of him, deducing that he was Worgen, or at the very least, associated very closely with them. "Are there any immediate things to be taken care of? Rations to pack, weapons to sharpen...?" She said, not wanting to appear lazy, and knowing that she wasn't the battle hardened veteran that he was probably hopping for, she desperately wanted to make up for it in anyway she could.

After those word had just left her lips, she heard the sharp rapping of the newly arrived druid, and, seeing his age and his elven blood, gave a small nod to him in acknowledgement. "well at least we're not all new to the world of battle! That would make for an interesting journey..." She says, trying to at least make them crack a smile.

[Istella]

Cross shivered in the cold mountain air and pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. Some part of her regretted walking the short distance from Ironforge to Kharanos, especially when the message from her contractor with SI:7 had seemed written in a hurry. Still, she couldn't justify renting a mount for such a short trip. She went first to the inn, where she found several soldiers in varying states of hungover. She went among them until found one coherent enough to direct her to the man she was looking for. Going back outside, she made her way over to his tent where she wrapped her knuckles on its front post.

She saluted and barked, her tone clipped and professional but her Gilnean accent unmistakable, "Charles Huntson, sir!" coming to attention so sharply that her boot heels made an audible click as they snapped together. "Cecilia Cross, reporting in, sir! My papers," she added, holding out the envelope containing her commission and orders. Her back remained ramrod straight and her good eye stared past the man she was speaking to, diligently locked on something far in the distance over his left shoulder.

[The Madgod]

Well, at least she was nice enough to offer her services in any way she could. "No, we don't have anything that needs to be done," Charles said, gesturing to the several soldiers around the camp just sitting around, "nothing that these louts can't do."

Charles looked at the latest woman in front of him in an even enough way, though inwardly he was questioning her. She was a bit too formal, and she was staring at something. Resisting the urge to look behind him, he took the woman's papers and gave her a quick nod. "At ease. Welcome to the team."

Charles turned his head towards the direction of the tapping, noting a high elf... rather irregular, all things considered. Asenya made a friendly remark, trying to inject a bit of humor into the conversation, but... Charles didn't really care for it that much. Not that he hated humor, he just didn't really think it that humorous. He smiled anyway, but quickly focused his attention on the elf. "And your name is?"

[Sal the Shieldhog]

"Larthian Dawnbreaker, sir." He bowed, smiling at the night elves' attempt at humor. He gave her a reassuring smile before given the human his full attention. "I received an unmarked letter compelling me to come to this location. I wasn't told what for, or by whom... Only that I was to contact you upon entering the area." Standing up straight and glancing about, he said "I assume you have the mission details?"

[Nonfictionless]

Richard rode quickly atop his warhorse, Barrage, towards the town of Kharanos. Famous for it's Thunderbrew Distillery, Richard knew the town and many of the dwarfs there well. He was already in full armor and sporting a few different blades, axes and guns of dwarven design in Barrage's saddle bags. He was ready for war but from the small amount of information he was safely assuming his usual twin axes would do the trick, but Richard liked to keep his options open. Normally he would have several men with him for an operation like this. His men, Mark and Ethan most likely, but this was a different sort of operation and SI:7 requested him alone for his leadership. He wouldn't be so vain most of the time to take on missions like this simply because they requested him but showing the thieves and rogues how a true battle is fought was something no warrior could pass. Besides the Blitz would be fine under Andor for now.

Richard scanned the area looking for a small tent and the operative he was supposed to be meeting, Charles. Black leather and daggers, the norm for assassins, at least that's what Richard expected. He only noticed a few small tents but they all seemed to be of the local hunters that passed through here now. However someone else caught his attention. "Ello thar Richard. Long time no see," Ragnar Thunderbrew shouted out. Richard waved and pulled Barrage over to the dwarf. "Hey there Ragnar, I would ask how you been but that last shipment speaks for itself." And indeed the last few barrels of Thunderbrew delivered to the Lakeshire Inn were already drained, mostly due to Richard. "Haha, Indeed one of me finest brews yet. Knew yah wuld like it. So yah got time for a bit o'ribs and cards?" Richard sighed, he really wished he did, "Sorry, but you know these days duty never stops calling. Don't supposed you've seen a new shady fellow around?" Ragnar thought for a moment, "Well I dun't know about shady but sumthin was a bit off, culdn't put a finger on it. A fellow just back up the road ther. A clean lookin fellow. That's why I dun't understand the need for a tent. Told em we got plenty o' rooms," Ragnar finished by shrugging and shaking his head. "That is probably the man I'm lookin for. Well thanks Ragnar and it was good to see you again. I should be back in a few days though. I hope you'll still have some ribs and cards waitin?" Ragnar started to head back into the Inn as several patrons proceeded him. "Always ther Juggernaut! See yah soon."
Richard turned Barrage's reins and headed back towards the end of town.

He didn't need to travel long before he saw the trio that had to be the start of his group. An assassin in black and red armor, definitely Charles. A young hunter so far from her tree and a high elf? Druid? What an oddity, well hopfully he will be up to the challenge of proving his oddity a good one. Richard swung off Barrage and quickly attached his axes to his plated belt. He paused only as a quite attractive young woman passed him with an air of purpose. Most men would not look twice at her because of her scarring but Riach wasn't most men. He saw she was something special, a strong fighter. Richard shook his head slightly and reminded himself that this was a mission and the fun, well the kind of fun that doesn't involve weapons, would have to come later. A Glinean.... most though mainly of the curse when dealing with these people but Richard still couldn't get off Millard Chestire. A sliver-tongued con man that stole a good ten thousand from him durring his early days as a trader in Lordaeron. He held his hand up to Barrage with his plam flat and fingers curled half-way down. Barrage neighed slightly giving his understanding and waited for his rider to signal for him to move again.

He glanced over at Charles last comment before Cecilia spoke and started to wince as he saw the state of the soldiers that SI:7 supplied them with. Not exactly bad but he had seen better and worked with better. Such were the curses of working with the Grand Alliance instead of for them. "Well then not to interrupt this lovely young lady but since this is an urgent mission. I am Richard Feildwright of the Blitz. As requested I am ready to start whenever."

[Jordaen]

As Cecilia introduces herself, the huntress feels inadequate, not addressing people as "sir" or "ma'am", having very little formal combat training. She frowns, wondering if this was such a good idea. Resan nudges her, encouraging her. She smiles down at him, He's right...Just because she's formal and I'm not doesn't mean I'm any less of a person. We just have different skills. Woman up, Asenya! Think of the woods that you're protecting, the small baby animals that won't have to suffer because their parents were ruthlessly killed in some pointless war... With that thought, she reintroduces her self to the new people, "I'm Asenya. I'm from Feralas and while I may not have had strict training, I know how to use this bow. I'm willing to do whatever it takes. It's an honor to be among you warriors." She stops herself from rambling on, not wanting to bore people. Instead she whispers to Richard, "Is it alright if I give your horse an apple? He looks like such a well behaved steed."

[Omertocracy]

The arm, nearly skeletal and out of its grave from the elbow up, pointed down the road to the west. "My thanks. Return to your rest." The arm slowly returned to the grave that housed the rest of its body. The knight slowly rode hise horse, also nearly skeletal in body, but with ghostly legs and head, down the indicated path.

Shortly thereafter he arrived at a tent with a small gathering of various individuals out front, one obviously a warrior, one just as obviously a hunter, an elf with a staff, and a pair of seemingly humans with daggers on hand. He dismounted and whispered into the horse's ear. "Thank you, old friend. I may have need of you soon, so stay nearby." The horse torso, ghostly parts having vanished, floated towards the nearest graveyard.

Armor clanking softly, the knight headed towards the gathering. Arriving, he bowed at the waist towards the middle of the gathering. "I am supposed to meet a Charles here. Something requires the services of Orestes?"

[Temp name]

Elizabeth Arrived on a horse she had bought in Ironforge, stopping just outside of Charles' tent. "And might i ask who's in charge here? I was told there were some problems here and to contact a Charles". she looked around at the people there. A Night elf, presumably hunter. another elf with a staff, mage perhaps? his clothes seem to be aching druid though. a human death knight. two human, possibly worgen, rogues. and a human warrior to finish it off with. this is gonna be intresting.

[Nonfictionless]

((Mehman, I probably should of detailed out Richard a bit better for those who haven't RP'd with him before but he is actually human. A quite tall human at that. For when we do RPs that require written Bios make sure to check out the characters that you are playing with. It saves a bit of time and typing if you just quickly glance over at least their appearance. I also like to read over their personalities to try and gauge how they might be saying things since inflection is impossible to tell unless stated but that's just me.))

[Temp name]

((to be fair i'm a little lazy, so not gonna read every character bio for every character i RP with, but yeah.. i'll probably just check the Bio's for races and so on next time))

[The Madgod]

"But of course." Charles replied to the elf's query, though he was unable to say much more as yet another mercenary joined the group. Funny how everyone he hired always seemed to arrive almost at the same time. This one was familiar to him, oh so very familiar. The worgen genuinely smiled. "Very good, I am glad you came." said Charles, warmly. "We shall get onto business as soon as the last... oh! There they are now."

Just as he had said, the last two mercenaries had arrived. Both human and both on horses, though very different from each other. One was wearing a full suit of plate and rode a horse that was instantly recognizable as an Acherus Deathcharger, the other rode a much plainer and living horse and wore leather. So, a death knight and a rogue. Well, perfect, he would need both. "I'm Charles Huntson, thank you for coming. Thank you all for coming, really," said Charles, first addressing the two newcomers and then the group as a whole. "Things haven't been... well, lately. I'll be the first to admit it." The last was said with a hint of spite and a quick glance at some of the soldiers around the camp. "But, we've located a threat to the Alliance, and you are all here to assist in removing it."

[Temp name]

"well i'm glad i could come, i was looking for an excuse to get ouside of stormwind. It gets rather boring after a couple of weeks of being in the same city if you ask me" Elizabeth said as she dismounted her horse. Still with the reins to the horse in her hand she asked "mind telling me where i could tie this up?"

[Nonfictionless]

Richard leaned over slightly to look down at Asenya, "Sure little lady. Just keep your weapons down. He's trained for war and doesn't trust many weapons." As he turned though the latest arrival caught his eye, a Death Knight. Something he both feared and envied at the same time. He wasn't one for statues and what not but the thought of being remember in a song always intrigued him. These Death Knights though, warriors who fell in battle and got to return back to it. The idea of how it would effect him never really crossed his mind, just the fact that death might not be permanent. The whole being dead thing though.....that could seriously hurt my chances with the ladies.....

Richard looked back towards Charles as he began to talk and returned the smile. It wasn't his first time working with Charles and that guy had an hilarious sense of humor. Some people just didn't get it but sometimes you just have to laugh at death or it could eat you up. He almost started to laugh at his comment about the soldiers but thought better of himself. He too was once not as good as he is now....but for these men they might never be. Just one more reason I prefer hiring my own men.

Richard thumbed the pommel of his right axe and looked over Charles supplies scatter around. The assassin never brought much himself but these other men were clearly not preparing for a long journey. "A bit close to home eh Charles? Don't tell you fellows down at SI:7 are slacking now." He chuckled a bit at his own joke. He knew Charles wouldn't mind it but Cecilia might and what better way to catch a lady's attention. "So what, I mean who are we removing?"

[Istella]

At Huntson’s acknowledgement of her arrival, outwardly, Cross simply gave a curt nod of her head and relaxed her stance, bracing her legs apart and resting her arms behind her back. She was however, painfully aware of his Gilnean accent. She ground her teeth together and promised herself she could tough out the assignment, no matter who she had to serve under. The woman’s single eye raked emotionlessly over each of the others as they each filtered into the camp, sizing them each up. It seemed SI:7 was forgoing the use of regular troops for this mission in favor of a mishmash group of thugs, which struck her as rather odd.

She watched them gather and converse with a mounting sense of frustration. Their manner at the onset of a mission showed an appalling lack of discipline and order. Mercenaries, ack! Cross thought distastefully to herself, No matter how long I slum it with them, I’ll never get used to the slipshod way they do things. At the precise moment that thought went through her mind, another woman rode up and introduced herself- in a Gilnean accent of all things. The pretentious way she spoke, as if they were going for a holiday outing rather than a military operation, ground away Cross’ last nerve.

Still exercising strict control over herself, Cross broke her stoic silence and spoke in the same clipped, professional tone as before, “Well, now that pleasantries are out of the way, sir, perhaps you will apprise us as to when you intend to hold the briefing for the mission we were called here for? Or do you intend to do so informally, where we stand now?”

Cross’ words were directed at Huntson, as evidenced the way she turned her maimed face toward him as she spoke. Still, however close her condescending words were to insubordination, she did not have the audacity to look a superior in the eye as she addressed him. The behavior was so ingrained into her upbringing that the action was almost subconscious. It was only reinforced by the feral instinct she was trying desperately to suppress at this very moment; it whispered to her from a dark corner in her mind, warning her that to do so would be to issue a challenge of authority.

Forcefully sealing away those darker thoughts, Cross kept her face composed and impassive as she waited to gage the commanding officer’s reaction to her barbed questions.

[Omertocracy]

Orestes caught the tall warrior glancing at him, and inclined his head in both notice and mutual respect. After another few moments, the stiff-acting woman with the... noticeable... face wondered aloud about the mission. "I would also like to get down to business. I am not used to being around this many living beings at once and would appreciate getting on with this." That wasn't the real reason, but they didn't need to know that. Threat to the Alliance? Command heavily implied there was a threat here in need of my specialty with the undead. This better be worth my time.

((All these yellow quotes from rogues hurt my eyes! Any simple way to deal with that besides highlighting the text or asking people to change colors? Because I don't want to make people change their own thought colors!))

[Sal the Shieldhog]

Larthian glanced at the group assembled before them, noting how each carried themselves and how they looked at the others. He idly played with a piece of loose bark on his staff, shying away from anything but forced conversation. He did understand that the maimed woman seemed to do something bad, and probably soon regrettable, when she said something to Charles. The others seemed not to notice; The night elf was feeding the warrior's horse, the death knight, the warrior, the woman, and Charles seemed to be speaking, and he was a little off to the side by himself.

Sighing at his incompetence in society, he sat on a small chair nearby, laid his staff against the chair next to him, and sipped from a small skin of moonberry juice he had brought from Moonglade with him. "I do hope we can get this moving soon," he thought, "I had hoped there wouldn't be so many people either. Ah well, that's what I get for being a hermit." He chuckled at the thought.