[quote=@Commodore Robot]
"Well look at that, it seems quite a few of us aren't the party type. Perhaps The Captain is trying to subtly purge the old, inexperienced, [i]and[/i] the unfun at the same time with this job," dropping into a more serious yet still casual tone he continued, "I've been informed by the Captain that I'll be the highest ranked officer on this mission so I suppose that means I'm something resembling 'in charge' of you people for the coming days. You seem like a solid bunch and I look forward to serving alongside you and the others, pleasure cruise or otherwise. I have only one ground rule to making sure this run goes smoothly my comrades: Don't die on me. "
[/quote]

[i]Needn't worry about me, Djonn,[/i], Marcel thought to himself, remembering the veteran's name, feeling ashamed that he had to think about it, considering the man's legacy and time spent with the Guard. Was he one of the founders? Marcel couldn't remember. He had started a reply when one of the younger Guardsmen spoke first- Zacharias, Marcel recognized him from the burn on his face. Wouldn't be surprised if the two of them bonded quickly, sharing similar wounds, though Zacharias' was much more serious. 

Marcel eyed each member of the party, going through their names in his head in an effort to get some sort of memorization down, though he was confident it'd soon become natural, anyway. 

His thoughts were seized when he felt a cool breeze brush his left hand, cooling it slightly and sending chills up his left arm. How long had his hand been exposed? He balled it back up into his sleeve and the warmth was quick to return.

“Just to be clear here, not everyone considers standing around guzzling ale a party. I mean, seriously, when was the last time any of you danced with a girl?” “Anyways, I’m also concerned about preparations. I haven’t been on caravan duty before and I’ve got a lot to sort through as far as my weaponry is concerned. How do these travel sessions even work? Do we just walk all day?”

Marcel was a bit taken aback by Adele's first question- surely she hadn't meant it as an insult. Or had she? Marcel had no refute, however. He'd never danced with a woman- come to think of it, the last romantic interaction he'd had was long ago when he had run the forge. Chrysla was her name, daughter of a rancher who'd often come to pick up horseshoes. Needless to say, she didn't appreciate Marcel shutting down the forge and pledging to the life of a city guardsman-turned-sellsword. 

Marcel offered his reply to Adele's second question, "Can't honestly say I'm sure, but I imagine something of the sort. In any case, some well-deserved sleep will certainly help accomplish whatever it is we'll be doing, so I will be retiring for the night. I look forward to traveling with you all."

[i]A bit long winded, but polite.[/i] Marcel never liked leaving group conversations like that, especially when he was the first to leave. It always felt too abrupt and awkward. The walk back to the Guardsman's quarters was quick, or at least felt quick. Marcel had spent most of the journey in thought as he pondered the party he was to be traveling with. He had no ill thoughts about any of them- in fact, Marcel looked up to Djonn and Ramzi, he had a desire to one day hold the title of veteran, should he live long enough to earn it in this dangerous line of work like they have. 

---

Marcel only needed to make a few preparations- when he was told of his participation in the mission he had made most of his arrangements this morning. There was only the matter of laying out his armor and weapons, which he liked to keep next to his bed. He hunted down his specially-made shield, which Dain nicknamed 'Weaponward', and leaned it against his cuirass. It was made of sturdy wood (Which Marcel actually preferred over metal, as metal shields had the tendency to break arrows and send the shards into the face of the carrier), and Dain had [url=http://rlv.zcache.com/viking_shield_sticker_odins_ravens-p217811390143485188envb3_400.jpg]painted two ravens on it[/url], which he said stood for something but Marcel couldn't remember. It had suffered it's fair share of scuff marks during training sessions, to say nothing of the greyskin incursions, but Marcel was confident in his own craftwork. He checked the thick straps to make sure they were attached tight to the bulwark and found they were all where they should be. Marcel cleaned his face and hair of any stray grease from the pub food, relieved himself of all clothing except his pants, and was soon asleep on his cot.