Prologue: Before&After
~~Keep-Innards~~
One Sun Post Aveless-Fall:
The crackling flames danced to-and-fro before Sul's heavy, wandering eyes, reflecting within them the fire that burned over the loss of his tent-mates. Gone, one and all...all but one gone. Silence illuminated the Kobold's face in somber mourning, with the patches of dried, darkened blood serving as make-shift funeral attire.
Throughout the ambient groans of the wounded, passed and passing, the skirmisher --now, one of fewer than a couple dozen-- remained isolated from the strangers sat still beside him. Soldiers came and went, yes...but he'd never expected the utter slaughter engaged *after* the fall of the wall...not even counting the chain reaction that occurred atop it.
Who knew what caused it -- Anthem pride could've easily crushed the one who's concussive force surged through the many, or an enemy blow delivered unawares towards that vital weak-spot. "Voice of War"..."Shrill of Lunacy", more like; The orders to send that regiment packed in full-kit up the wall couldn't have been given by anything other than a deranged beast...though --as his beady gaze drifted upwards, glaring through the flames-- the Kobold could see now that many of those surrounding him were, perhaps, far more enthusiastic about the night-mare that issued the orders to spend lives like Sul pissed into a chamber-pot. Best not to tempt them with talks of treason, no.
The knuckles held firm in his right would remind him of those lost in this literal "tooth-and-nail" struggle (he ought to know, given the throbbing, bandaged stump of his exterior-most two toes on the left)....but it couldn't do anything to revive them. Especially not after the state they'd be in from a blast like that. "They knew how to throw a party, that his old-mates did..." He forced a titter from himself at his mumbled attempt at lightning his over-cast mood, but immediately regretted it. His eyes...wandered, staring hollowly out of the round holes cast out of his helm.
Seemed he'd be getting used to this lot; Well, at least some of them weren't too bad...hmm.
~~Base-Camp~~
One Sun Prior Aveless-Fall:
Job to be done. Voice's orders. Meet at the Weeping-Gate within the hour. Pack light.
Sul continued to rest head in hand even minutes after the strange voice had declared its message within the confines of his skull. The intense throbbing that'd accompanied it earlier had --thankfully-- since moved on to greener pastures, but the residual pain seemed satisfied in plaguing him all the same. To this, the clatter of knuckle-bones aided somewhat as a method of soothing respite, bouncing along as they did across the inner-backing of the lamellar cuirass that served as their game-board. A playful slap and a cheek-stretching tug by an aged, calloused hand averted the Myaenthar from his musings, however -- with the latter being immediately followed up by the firm rallying cry of Ozran: "Kobold, in or out?"
"Ai, ai -- in!" Pulling away, the Kobold chucked the sheep-knuckles forward with relative disinterest, instead finding his eyes straying upwards as he rubbed at his stinging cheek. Liz and Ezraîy sat opposite him, attempting to snatch the various knuckles away for themselves while simultaneously accusing the other of having weighted the toss; To their right lay a more relaxed Trexil, dressed in full kit besides the lamellar he'd so generously donated to the cause of a game or three -- and finally, Ozran, firm but none-the-less forgiving 'mother' of their lot; She sat left of Sul, and seemed to have a habit of touching things that weren't hers.
The grey cretin grinned, exposing the entirety of a canine in the process -- not so much at having lost the toss, no, but...*this*. The sound an tediously idle camp surrounding him, smoke wafting about on light-footed winds and the sight of that magnificent ruby wall silhouetted by the the morning sun's splendour. Gaia could be such a pretty thing at times...at least, when she wasn't coughing up giants or swallowing the ground from underneath you. She had issues, evidently, but nothing worse than any of the other quirks the legionaries toted in excess. The ones he'd met, anyway.
The glint of sun striking against metal caught the Kobold's frantic eye, and he found his attention yet again shifted, though this time to the metal latches, string-hooks, bow and trigger apart of the Kobold-sized cross-bow at his right. Tooth-like grooves lined the sides of its wooden stock, proceeding just shy of the butt, where the rope&pulley system would be cut into the shaft and operate the draw-mechanism. The same draw that --as proven by its power and the particular type of ammo it loosed-- would inevitably out-range and punish those that dared show face in its mechanical presence. A mechanical beast, it was....a beast of war.
Silence in the midst of this admiration hooked the Kobold's interest, reeling his face upwards to the sight of his comrades. It would seem that a stranger had wandered into their game, as evidenced by the way they were all looking over him in that trade-mark Kobold look of perplexity. He had his money on whoever this was being Human -- and turning round with a spin, he found himself right on the money. The first thing to be noticed about *her* was her form...the second, her complete lack of hair of any sort (he assumed, it seemed a pity that he couldn't fully confirm his suspicions) and the third being...that stench. "The baths are back-a-ways with the wagons, if she's looking to wash off the scent of dags'-balls she's rolled 'round in." His suggestion, for all intents and purposes, went unnoticed. "Come, equipped." Her voice reeked of indifference -- as did her posture, come to think of it...arms crossed like that of a pouting child just 'too busy' to deal with babe-squatting a sibling. Whatever the reason for her mood, Sul rose in tandem, partially brushing the dirt off his kit as he replied: "An' what-for would that be, oh tall one?" Her hazel eyes nearly rolled out of her skull at that remark, and she soon countered in kind: "Orders are orders, right, or did you just happen to stumble into camp for the fresh grub?" He winced at that one, and it wouldn't take long for his thick skull to *fully* understand the meaning behind the insult...
"...You..."
"Yeah, me, let's move." And with that, she was off, marching back through the maze of sun-bleached tents surrounding them -- giving Sul little time to don his helmet, pick up his cross-bow and wheel about to retrieve his knuckles before he doing a double-take, briskly following behind her. From behind him, he could hear the snickering remarks of his comrades, though Trexil rose above the rest with "Hey-ey Sul, he mustn't let her make a martyr of him yet, ai? Trexil could always use a cooler!" The Kobold smirked, spinning round with a final "Trexil shouldn't dissuade himself of his natural charm -- he need only believe it to see the light!", before disappearing after the woman. The cackling laughter accompanying him soon faded away into the idle racket of their regiment's particular 'ghetto' in the encampment.
He had to wonder how she'd found him, or how she'd even managed to pick *him* in the first place...
...Meh, work first, questions later. Although, maybe he should've asked *what* he was being called away for...
Whatever it was, it couldn't be that terrible for a day like this.
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