[center][i][color=darkred][b]Mikhail Rothingham, Disgraced Scholar[/b][/color][/i][/center]
[center][u]Armistice: Eastern Gate 
[color=green][500 HP/500 HP][/color][/u][/center]
[hr]	
[center](Scholar? Drifter? Scientist? Wanderer? Disgraced.)
Which one was I again? Mikhail wasn't sure how to refer to himself anymore.[/center] 
Mikhail did not pack lightly for the ICC's mission, and his knapsack was overflowing with semi-useless trinkets. But his back was strong, albeit crooked. His first time out of Scion Prime and Mikhail was already bewildered at the wondrous architecture of Armistice. As he paced forward, Mikhail saw the outline of a several men and women gathering under the Eastern Gate. Among them were volunteers, knights, ICC representatives, and an elderly man...in robes of the same color as his. Each step brought him closer and closer to the faded dark-green robes. Only a few feet away now and the robes became more dark, not vibrant. 

[color=green][i]("Oh...shit.")[/i][/color] he began to drag his feet, dreading each step. Maybe he could still turn back? This was going to be awkward.

[i][color=mistyrose]"Greetings, deserter."[/color][/i] It wasn't exactly a friendly introduction by the elder man, who stood hunched over and supported himself with an ebony walking-stick. 

[i][color=green]"Magister Mammonodes. Umm...greetings. The honor is mine."[/color][/i] Mikhail avoided eye contact, and the two took a few steps away from the group so they could speak more privately. 
[i][color=mistyrose]"What insanity drove thou to leave the embrace of The Enclave, I shall never know. But a chance to redeem thyself has come before thee, deserter. Elder Plianus has considered excommunicating thy...study partner? What was his name again? Vlad, was it?"[/color][/i] the Magister was clearly toying with him.
[i][color=green]"My sincerest apologies, Magister, but I was too weak. Does The Enclave now seek to punish the innocent? My departure from the order had NOTHING to do with him; leave him be to conduct his studies."[/color][/i]
[i][color=mistyrose]"His tenure at The Enclave is partially contingent on your cooperation during this mission. You are to follow any orders the ICC gives."[/color][/i]

[i][color=green]"So...how will you use that massive brain of yours to benefit the mission?"[/color][/i]
[i][color=mistyrose]"Me? Why I shall stay here at Armistice, advising the ICC on how to minimize the extreme financial burden this mission is placing on the capitol."[/color][/i]
[i][color=green]"So basically, you've become a glorified accountant?"[/color][/i] Mikhail had not meant to disrespect the Magister, rather he was acting on impulse.
[i][color=mistyrose]"Stifle your tongue, peon. Thou WILL cooperate. And drink some tea before the mission departure, you look utterly exhausted."[/color][/i] Magister Mammonodes still presumed to give him (unwelcome) commands.

Mikhail subconsciously rubbed his shoulders. The sweat on his palms stung when he touched the raised welts obscured by his robes. He was flogged for a full day and night before he was allowed to leave The Enclave, so that any hesitation about leaving the order was thoroughly beaten out of him. 

[i][color=green]"Very well."[/color][/i] Mikhail said, turning his back on the Magister to rejoin the main group. What had gotten into him? Mikhail was not normally so defiant, perhaps he had missed The Enclave more than he was willing to admit.

While Mikhail watched the rest of the retinue assemble under the Eastern Gate, he studied each volunteer carefully. He noticed there were more women than men; Mikhail had not spoken to a woman for more than 2 decades and had likely forgotten how to befriend them while not offending their sensibilities. One of the men appeared haggard and solemn. Another, armored in plate, dismounted a beast of a horse. Mikhail could not wait to study the horse -- perhaps even collect samples of its blood. The effects of a meat-based diet on a domesticated herbivore like a horse would undoubtedly yield interesting results. Mikhail tugged his satchel lightly and heard the glass vials clinking around inside - some full, others empty and begging to be filled. 

Mikhail sparked some flint and brewed a strong pot of tea, right there on the cobble street. An energizing, herbal scent permeated the air near the Eastern Gate and calmed Mikhail's nerves. Hopefully the others found it calming too.
[i][color=green]"Anyone care for a cup of tea while we wait?"[/color][/i] he filled tiny pewter cups as a gesture of good faith.