[color=black][center][h3][b]E[/b]arlier, in [b]C[/b]oedwin[/h3][/center][/color]

"Saddles all packed... nice and sturdy.  Damn, what a fine mare."  The man speaking was almost talking to himself, not bothering any attention to the crowd of people behind him.  They were all there bidding him farewell before he took off to Rot Donar.

"Think you'll be needing this too, Ser Wyk."  A younger man held out a sheathed longsword and Ser Wyk turned from the mare to see what it was.

"Ah," he proclaimed.  "What's a knight without his sword, eh boy?"  Ser Warren Wyk grabbed the sword and strapped it to the horse.  It was the final piece of adornment.  "Kastan," Warren began, turning to look the young man in the eye, "you're a good lad.  Promise me you and the boys will look after Coedwin and Redsand."

"Of course," Kastan quickly answered, "until you get back."

Warren laughed and shook his head, "doubt I'll be back, lad.  This one here... this is the road to my final restin' place.  If I do return, it'll be with the Black Shields, not the Raiders."

Kastan looked down, a bit disappointed.  The mood amongst the other men was also quite solemn.  They were watching their hero, commander, and mentor leave.  Probably for good.  "You sure you want to do this then?  Coedwin could still use you.  Maybe you don't have to go out and fight anymore.  You're wisdom and guidance would be more than welcome."

"Kastan, boy, you know what they say about me-"

"You never give up, I know, ser."

Warren looked at each of the men gathered.  They were esteemed men of Wyk's Raiders, free fighters who rallied under Warren Wyk in order to raid and repel bandits and men from the sultanate.  He had fought beside them, trained them, and lead them for five years now.  It wasn't a long time in most respects, but they had each become a brother to him.  "Farewell, lads, do me proud."  Warren grabbed onto his mare and pulled himself up.

His body heated up and he felt a lump forming in his throat, struggling to situate himself on the saddle.  Warren began coughing, quite loudly and disgustingly before spitting out a great lump of thick blood on the sandy ground.  He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.  Kastan stepped forward, "I guess your sword wasn't the only thing you forgot," he said with a grin, holding up a rag with dried blood.  "If you're going to fall off your horse and die, do it near a hole so we don't have to dig one," Kastan joked, laughing.

Warren couldn't help but laugh too, "damn you, boy," he said cheerfully.  With a final wave, Warren turned his mare and trotted away.  The horse neighed and took off into a light gallop, off to Rot Donar.

[color=black][center][h3][b]C[/b]urrent time, [b]R[/b]ot [b]D[/b]onar[/h3][/center][/color]

The waiting was bad enough, but the rain made it worse.  Rot Donar wasn't that big of a tent, but it promised a larger force than Wyk's Raiders ever was.  Up ahead a man yelled "Next!"  The line shifted forward and Warren took but one step before stopping again.  Sighing, he looked around at the camp.  Across the ways sat a few peasants, laughing and jeering and having a good time, obviously drunk.  [i]Least they got some ale[/i], Warren thought.  He also looked to the hitching post, making sure Beauty was still there, his mare.

A few more pitches of 'next' and Warren finally came upon Terryn Hoffmann, sitting behind a desk.  He was obviously distinguishable by his facial appearance.  Warren had heard enough about Terryn, being that he once served in Coedwin, just as Warren himself had been doing for the past six years.  Perhaps they had even crossed paths at one point.

"Terryn Hoffmann," Warren said, grinning at the old man.  He rubbed his thumb against his dark steel blade's hilt, sheathed on his side.  "The name's Warren Wyk," he said, bending down to sign the form for Terryn.  "You'll have to forgive my stance, my back's not as straight as it use to be."  Warren tried standing as straight up as he could.  "I served as a squire at Barren Hall.  Then I served with the Blackblades until there disbandment.  I've fought Cherwin in the past, when they invaded Broacien.  I served King Gregar in his battle against the sultanate thereafter, before finally setting up in Redsand, where I've lead Wyk's Raiders out of Coedwin for the past five or so years.  It'd be a honor to serve in the Black Shields."  Warren nodded to the man and walked away from the desk.  [i]Time for some ale[/i], he thought.