[center][h1][color=black][b]M[/b]ilitary [b]C[/b]amp[/color][/h1]
[color=black][b]31st of August, 127 P.B.[/b][/color][/center]
[hr]

A man walked through the muddy field leading up to the encampment - several wooden stakes had been put up as a makeshift wall, to make it at least somewhat harder to cross from the field into the camp. It'd keep out unwanted visitors at least, but it wouldn't hold long against any type of war band that wished to cross blades. 

The man approached a knight of sorts - he looked to be one, by any rate of the word. To Haesteinn, personally, the man seemed like he should have stayed at home, scribing away and writing a book or something. Unknown to Haesteinn was however that this man was the son of Aedric, count of Rossex and famed war hero. If Haesteinn had known that, he would perhaps have chosen to approach him differently - or perhaps not, Haesteinn had always been rather cold in his approach to anyone, remnants of the North, Lord Jachsen had told him. [i]“Hail, knight,”[/i] Haesteinn said as he raised a hand at the man. [i]“It seems that I am to be sent out to gather some supplies for the cooks,”[/i] he continued, standing in position in front of the lower-ranked knight. It was amusing, to say the least, that a man who'd never lead any retinue before was now in control over a noble knight. No doubt a privilege that Haesteinn owed to his many years of service, and Terryn's view for practicality rather than noble prestige. [i]“You seem to be unlucky enough to be the first to catch my eye, so come with me.”[/i]

Haesteinn then continued his march through the camp - looking for a specific area of the camp that he'd been given precedence over. According to the ensign that had explained to him briefly who he was commanding, there was a woman of sorts - tribal, a scout, archer, whatever you called them. Furthermore there was also a former acrobat, who had served as a caravan guard? A strange combination, and Haesteinn was willing to bet this man would bite the dust sooner rather than later. Asides them, there were several other unimportant figures that were described by the ensign as 'peasants and militia's.' To take care of his little corner of the camp there had been a cook, and healer. She was named Ellinor, according to her signage in the book. 

All in all, it sounded like it was going to be a great warparty - the scout, the knight and the acrobat, as well as a healer. And all four would die in the mud. A grimace appeared on Haesteinns face as he finally approached the corner of the camp. His voice raised the moment he arrived, shouting at the people in the area. [b][i]“Had you thought to go to sleep so early?!”[/i][/b] his voice rang, turning heads on a few other sides of the camp. There was no doubt that Jachsen and Eira would be brought to attention to face the man in battle ornate. 

Ellinor, too, would likely be alerted by the voice, and if she knew what was good for her, she'd come to pay attention to the sergeant who came here to deliver a sort of talk. It seemed to be a talk, anyway. 

Haesteinn's neck was covered in tribal marks - none reaching above his jaws or chin - and his hair had been slicked back. His beard had been freshly comb, as to look presentable for his troops. On his forehead were the three dots - indicating that Haesteinn had been a Servant, a warrior of the Monarch. His stature would perhaps be impressive to those who hadn't spent much time in a military camp yet. And if his stature didn't do the job, his deep and masculine voice might do the trick. [i]“Nay, we have work yet to do,”[/i] he continued, lowering his voice slightly. [i]“The quartermaster instructed me to forage for supplies, and whether that means we pick berries, hunt an animal or order a village nearby to give up some food, I do not care. But we will get supplies.”[/i] His voice was harsh, deep and yet, at the same time, it was warm and full of a strange sense of familiarity. It was almost like his voice was the embodiment of a cold night in the winter, being forced to camp out in the bitterly cold snow - and yet, you had a fire and a companion, and it provided a strange sense of fear and comfort. 

Not wishing to wait for midday to go out, he immediately pointed at Jachsen - unaware that this man was the acrobat he'd been told about by the ensign - and Eira. [i]“You two will come with me,”[/i] he ordered with a stern and strict voice. He then glanced at Ellinor, and adressed her too. [i]“I've little knowledge of plants in Murkran. You'll have to come with to see which plants and berries we can and can't take.”[/i] Finishing his little spiel in front of his troops, he glanced at Genseric. [i]“Knight, I do not expect you to toil in the mud picking roots, but you shall have to come. It never hurts to have an extra sword, and we don't know where the Cherwinian knights went after they destroyed our regiments in the swamps. They might have moved closer to the capital to plunder villages - and so they might be nearby. Understood?”[/i]

He didn't wait for an answer, and Genseric wasn't expected to answer, in fact, he was expected to not give an answer and simply accept what was said. But Haesteinn wasn't aware of any of these people's personalities, and so he simply asserted himself as the leader and that was that. Whether they'd accept him or not, well, that was up to them. 

As soon as everybody had gotten ready, for which Haesteinn would wait maximally 10 minutes, they would move out and head through the forest. The ground quickly became more muddy, and some parts were even under water completely. It was a sign that they were indeed in Murkran, the characteristic swamps being evaded carefully by Haesteinn as he led the party of five, as to cut down on travel time. As they went along, they should try to forage as much as they could - Ellinor being the one to explain what could be taken if needed. 

However, as quickly as they'd left, Haesteinn would suddenly stop dead still in his tracks and look to the front. If the others paid attention to what was ahead, they would quickly note the column of black smoke ahead of them. [i]“Knights.. so close?”[/i] Haesteinn mumbled to himself. They had barely walked for half an hour. If they were this close, then it was inevitable foragers and scouts would find the other party quickly. Slowly he inched closer, moving through a bush and kneeling in it, taking a careful look ahead. 

In front of the party of five was a clearing in the forest, more muddy than their own clearing. In the middle of it was a small palisade - it wasn't professionally built by a carpenter, and it seemed like a man could probably bring down sections of the wall with a few good pushes. There was a singular watch tower on one corner of the palisade, and a man seemed to be on it. There was a bow nearby him, but the man was sitting still in a chair. Perhaps sleeping. [i]“Not knights..”[/i] Haesteinn mumbled again, to nobody in particular. [i]“Brigans and cutthroats.”[/i] He looked back at his party of four, and urged them to come closer. [i]“Careful.”[/i] he added, insisting that they be silent as to not get spotted. [i]“What shall we do?”[/i] he asked them, looking at the small encampment again. He couldn't be sure how many were inside. An attack could provide them with the supplies they might need, or otherwise, an attack might endanger them all and possibly get them killed.