[table][row][i][b][color=gold]Thom Chaff[/color] Garleton: The Evacuation, Evening, The Camp- Morning[/b]
[/i][/row]

[cell]Thom knew he didn't need to help with the bandit chief, he knew the poor fool was a dead man the moment the wyvern took flight again. When the streets fell silent, he just shook his head. The bandits were gonna run for the hills, but so would they. As they followed the prince back toward the castle, he shot a silent glare to the two guardsmen who had accompanied him. He didn't know how they didn't aid the prince, but they didn't so he wouldn't be surprised if the three of them ended up with the headsman's ax. But that would be for later, he would just have to follow quietly behind the little lordling, hoping that things would slow down enough that they wouldn't run into combat. 

Then came the march, as they walked the tunnels underneath the keep. Their guide, who Thom could only guess was some sort of adviser, led them through the twists, and turns of the cavern. The fact that the tunnels looked all the same, only served to make the guardsman bored, so it calmed him down enough, and brought down his blood rush from earlier. He hoped the wyvern rider, knew where to go he didn't think the beast would fit in these tunnels. It'd be a stretch just to fit a horse down here. When they finally made their way from the dank tunnels, into the cool night air. Thom let out a sigh of relief. Not only because it felt nice to end up on the surface, but because there were no more battles to fight, as they slunk away into the night.

The marching in the days to follow was what could only be described as hell. Slowed down by mercenaries who weren't used to the march, and civilians the group was all but a large moving target. Thom wasn't even sure how they escaped to their current camp without incident, but somehow they did. When the news reached them that the capital had fallen, he could only sigh. They were a resistance band as of now, and only time would tell what would happen. His last group turned on each other when they had the chance to become rebels, and he can only imagine what would happen with this group. How many would turn into little more than bandits, and how many would help the people. For awhie he briefly thought about deserting on his watch. But thought against it, some of the mercs had already fled into the night. Either off to join the enemy for coin, or because they knew a hopeless situation when they saw one. Not that it bothered Thom much, as far as he was concerned the lordling, and anyone with him were as much as dead, himself included. So he cared little into what would follow.

The enemy would likely be hunting down heirs, and anyone who could challenge their right to rule. So they had a very large target painted on them. The princes speeches could only do so much to keep the groups spirits up, and he knew that eventually that they'd have to go on the offensive if they wanted to be taken seriously. 
     [/cell]
[cell][img]https://i.imgur.com/fcMEy7B.jpg[/img]
[center]_________________________
Status: [color=lawngreen]Upright[/color][/center]
[u]Class[/u]: Guard
[u]Inventory[/u]:[list]
[*]Vulnerary
[*]Iron Axe[/list][/cell][/table]