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Nolan shifted abit then heard his partner's callout. He turned and spotted the pair as they thumped through the snow. He reached up to give his scope one more half click up just in case, "Conditions same..." He sniffed then counted, "Alright let's see here..."

About a mile to their west, up abit into the snow field Eric went to a knee as he heard another distant boom from what he could only imagine is his two snow wookie snipers further up. He could see the base ahead of him not too much further now. He'd be at the perimeter here very soon.

Back with the snipers Nolan squeezed, the shot whickering along, he watched the bullet displacement through his scope. And had front row seats as the bullet punched into, and then out and nearly split his target in two as he'd hit him just above the waist. A big hole from the .50 round turning soft flesh into a red misty pulp. The force of it knocked the man down and the instant shock killed him if the fact he lost almost all his entrails didn't do it moments later. He leaned back from the scope and spit off to the side to rid himself of the taste of disgust at that rough kill, "Well that's a way to do it. Messy but it's a way." He gets up as well, grabbing the kit bag with extra rounds and counter-measures from where it had fallen in the snow. He makes his way up the ridge and to their firing position. He gets into position and looks out, "Damn...look at all that. These folks really know their job."

As Andrew called it in, Nolan spots something and swings his rifle up. Just as Eric responds, "10-4 Cordite, unlike our neighbours I could hear you from a mile off." He's at a stretch of perimeter fence. Using a tube of acid to cut through the links. He turns slightly, "I can almost feel someone's scope on me, and I know our neighbours don't have an eye on me. Which one of you is that?" Nolan chuckles and patches into the line, "Sorry Osprey, force of habit saw your outline vaguely on the snow behind you, drew a line of sight just in case. Cordite Two here by the way." Eric nods as he knows Nolan can see him, "Well as long as it's you two." The section of fence he had cut with the acid pack falls free and he catches it shifting it aside, "Osprey has achieved an entrance. I'm going in." He hunched through the hole. And before Andrew and Nolan's eyes he roadie runs across the tarmac, like a shadow and soon he's at the edge of the C-Cans, boxes and pre-fab buildings that are on site.

Nolan nodded, "Already have you beat brother. Go, I'll give you both over watch." As he says that he's clicking his scope settings up and placed his little weather instrument aside, "Wind 4 klicks northwest to southeast...600 to 800...hmmm yeah that's good." He sniffs and motions to Andrew, "Go, I got you. Osprey Cordite One is going down into the base as well, gonna set some charges on another target."

Eric nods, "Osprey copies. I've got a line here on..." He cuts off briefly as the patrol he had seen and was waiting on steps out into the open. The three man patrol don't see it coming. And Eric had already noticed these three weren't wired up, so no one will expect a check in from them for sometime. His combat knives, a wickedly curved Karambit for both hands, hiss from their sheathes. The first man catches the blade to the side of the neck, a lever motion causes the blade to slide up and into the under side of his brain. The blade comes loose just as easily as it had slid in. The second man is only just registering that something is off, as his friend just stopped talking. He gets first one blade to the chest, the second one right across his scarf covered throat, he falls to his knees gagging. And the third man is just turning when Eric hooks him in the ribs with his right hand knife. Pulling him forward and the second left blade plunging into his stomach, and he levers his arm up, cutting the man open from stomach to the middle of his chest. "I got a line here on one of my targets. I can set charges on it and move to the other targets."

As this is happening Nolan whispers, "Good kills. Overwatch is showing no one else nearby. Both of you move."


Victor sat and let himself be worked at. He could feel the paint and spreading across the areas he had missed in his haste to get it done. But he can quickly feel it coming together. The significance of the Warrior's Print, showing that they are unafraid of their fate. And that the fate they offer those they face is woeful indeed. It's a power and a ritual in itself and of it self. He smiles as it finishes and he moves abit to get the paint molded right.

His eyebrows shoot up under his paint, "Asking me if I'd put paint to you? Hmmm if I could think of something. It'd be the Moon's Gaze. A white circle, over a blue back ground across the face. Signifies wisdom, knowledge and ancient power. I think it'd be perfect for you." He smiles, "If you like I think we have time now." He starts to dig for his own paint kit, "I can put it on you now. We could go into this painted up together yes?" His kit is held in one big paw of a hand shortly after and open, he smiles, "What do you say?"

Nearby Carl watches this, smiling, "Those two...if any of us are making it through this, it's them. Can't keep them down I think." He nods. "A good future I think for them."

Hello again Dog.
Banard Kegborne

The dwarf company had woken blearily, but they seem to be quite used to these kinds of morning. And some of the company are already going about packing up the company's assets. When the call to gather is made, Banard and a few of his company mates go to watch and listen. As the head honcho speaks Banard stands there, powerful arms crossed across his chest. He casually leans over to whisper to one of his company mates, "Man has got some pipes on him gotta say." The dwarf beside him grinning behind his beard in agreement. And then the crystals and part of the plan is revealed. Banard hums, "How's this gonna work out..."

As the speech came to an end and the order was given to make ready Banard returned to his company. A huddle occured as the close knit group of dwarves, being all family and friends who worked close with the Kegborne family. So seeing their current master going away and too battle, it's a time of worry. So the huddle and whispered well wishes.

"Go with the Ancestor's strength in yer arms lad." One long beard says.

"Strength, Honor, Clan, and Luck big brother." A young dwarf lass says.

"Luck in battle dear boy." A handsome Dwarf Maid says just before she busses him heavily on the lips.

And soon Banard speaks, "My heart and body stay here, but my love and honor go back with you. Remember me to my wife and kids. And the lot of you, pack everything up and get the hell back to the South Holds." He trades handshakes and warm wishes around then parts ways.

Soon he's in his tent, donning the chest plate. the leather gloves and pauldrons. A small cask of something that looked golden and thick to one hip, his steel greaves and boots and the skull cap upon his head. On the other hip his steel and silver tankard. And finally at the small of his back his dwarven axe, the edge shining from care. It's a full armed, and armored but not quite filthy dwarf warrior, golden beard braided into several heavy plaits that arrives to the carts.

And as he stands his arms crossed across his chest again he waits for the go ahead from their leader.

Sensing the unease, Banard hums and harkens back to his time in the Deep Miners. He draws his axe, turning it so the head is down towards the ground and he begins to beat a tattoo, slow and solemn on the ground. His voice is deep and lusty. A chant? A song? His intent obviously to try and lend some courage and morale to the moment.

When the hammer falls
Forging weapons for all
When the hammer falls
Songs of battle fill the halls
When the hammer flies
Lines of armored dwarves arise
With the hammer's roar
We go marching off to war
When the hammer falls
When the hammer falls

When the hammer falls
Then our victory calls
When the hammer falls
Songs of glory fill the halls
When the hammer flies
Mighty heroes now arise
With the hammer's sound
Live the dwarves down underground
When the hammer falls
When the hammer falls

The foe came to our lands
And we fought them hand to hand
Sweat and blood
Turned the groud to mud
Dwarf and foe in strife
Sought to vanquish every life
When the hammer falls

When the hammer falls
Back our enemy crawls
When the hammer quakes
Foe cowards bones will break
When the hammer cracks
And it beats their armies back
When the hammer's boom
Sends the foes to their doom
When the hammer falls
When the hammer falls

He chuckles at the end of it and lifts his axe to the sky, roaring a cheer, "Don't feel worry now lads! Stick to yer words! Onwards aye! We can do this!" The little golden haired dwarf sure as well has alot of courage in his little frame.


Banard Kegborne

Banard smiles, offering Mavis a tankard of her own and smiling at them both. He looks at the drinks as Mavis looks them over, "Let me tell you something lass. Where I come from, a raised tankard before a battle, is the best way to know someone has your back. A person who won't drink with a comrade, isn't worth their salt." He raises his tankard to both Mavis and Ramiel, "Because this this liquid courage, shows you are ready, willing even to suffer to the end with your company in the future. My companyn may return to the South Holds before the week is out, but they leave us with stout cheer and well wishes and the alcohol to steel your nerve before the foe!" The dwarven company cheer. From Beardling to Longbeard, from dwarf maid to dwarf ranger. All to a one cheering on the people who will march tomorrow to the aid of a city.

He nods to Mavis and Ramiel, "Drink, a cup or a tankard, a jar or a cask. Drink and know this is my oath to you both that come the morrow. I will don my armor, take up my axe, march to the gates of hell beside you, watch your back and carry you out of the fires of damnation when the time comes. That is my oath." He downs the contents of his tankard, "And a Kegborne keeps his oath. To the last moment, be it in a bloody last stand or a mythic battle to the end." He smiles, "Come you two, a toast! A toast to our coming battle! Dwarves! Humans! Elves and all! Raise your cups high!" He thrusts his tankard into a barrel scooping up more liquor then raises it to the sky toasting his new comrades. The Dwarves letting out a rowdy cheer. And a chant of, "Warriors, thanes, lords, warriors, to the end!" Begins among them.

Banard grinning ear to ear as he nods to Mavis and Ramiel.
Banard Kegborne

The company of Dwarves from the South Holds are obviously a close knit group. Friends and family. Proud sons, worthy daughters, mighty fathers, and cunning mothers. Watchful uncles and worthy aunts. And amidst them their friend of the brew, practically a member of each of their families, is Banard. He hefts his silver and steel tankard, golden mead from one of many barrels among the group sloshing but never spilling. They share words of friendship and kind insult and companionship. It's as Banard is taking a hearty drink from his tankard that one of the company members nudges him. He gruffs into his drink then spots the man. He lowers the tankard and smiles, "Ah! Hail friend." He grins and elbows one of the silver haired dwarf maids beside him. The mother of one of the younger dwarf maids in the company, "Goldenbeard. Do you hear that Elisa, that's a good one I like that one!" He chortles then nods, "Aye a long road deserves a good drink. Come. Pull up a stool. Loddy! Yes there lad, dig out one of those other tankards there from the stores, and then dip this lad a full one of the Red we brought. You know the one."

The young beardling, just growing into his beard nods, digging out an oaken tankard from a chest of them, and gets up to dip the tankard in a beautiful red drink. A dwarven whiskey. Full and heady. Banard smiles, "Come then neighbour, sit. Join the Kegborne Company for a time yes? I'm Banard, Banard Kegborne of the Kegborne Brewery Company, stamped with the approval of Lord Steellode himself even." Loddy walks over to the half-elf and offers the still dripping tankard to him. Banard smiles, "And who do we have the pleasure of meeting today sir?" He motions to the half-elf with his silver and steel tankard curiously.

It's then that Banard spots another person nearby. And being the so-shall drinker he is. Yes indeed. If you have a drink then social he! He grins and raises his tankard again to the woman, "Hail there lady! And a fine night to you. Care to join us as well? Banard Kegborne as I said. And here our half-elf guest. The more the merrier. No better way to wait out the night before a battle then with good company and good drink. Mead? Beer? Whiskey? I have a Brown Beer here so thick that it's almost a syrup. And if you don't have any it'll put hair on your chest, be you male or female. Come come and join us!"

Banard Kegborne
Dwarven Brewmaster

"Alright me lads." The voice is clear and loud. "Let's give these poor sods something to lift their spirits." It's a Dwarf, a golden haired son of stone. But his clothing and mannerisms say he's not a local. A ruddy tan rather then the slight pale skin says this dwarf spends a fair amount of time outside. Along with him is a full company of dwarves. Squat strong folk from afar it seems.

And as those around watch the four wagons the dwarves came in are opened cloth covers pulled back and behold! Barrels and barrels upon barrels and barrels of good prime hooch, beer, ale and whiskey. Stamped with the sigil of the Kegborne Brewery. South Hold Dwarves from south across the sea come from a far with gifts.

As the unloading begins a delegation of Kogani Dwarves approaches. The leader the one with the shaved pate and golden beard greets them heartily, "Cousins! I bring a gift of fine spirits to liven the mood before battle." As the Kogani start in the leader watched and is suddenly entranced quite suddenly. Few pay him need as he walks past one of the wagons. Just there a strange butterfly, beautiful yet somehow terrible as well. Whispering "Fair life what are you..." He reached out grasping almost taking hold. But nothing. Nothing to grab. Bit then from the camp "Master Banard Kegborne! A word?"

Bernard turns his attention returning. It's a stout Kogani Dwarf there in half plate. He growls, "Fine gifts young master. But what of the fight? Will any of your company stand?" It's quiet for a time Banard stands and strokes his beard. Look in past the Dwarf before him. Looking at the recruitment posters and announcements about. Bernard then nods "Of my company here Lord? None, they came to help with the drink. And will return to the south holds within the week. But my wife and sons and daughters rain at the holds. And thus I can be spared."

He nods grabbing a pack and an axe from one of the wagons then males a beeline to the recruiters. There the questions are asked, Name - Banard Kegborne. Age - 34. Affliated with military, no. Guild? Sure, damn sure. The International Brewers Guild of the South Dwarven Holds, proud paying member damn it. Seemingly satitsfied the card was handed too him. And the sharp dwarven shout of annoyance exits the golden bearded dwarves mouth. <<That Feckin' well hurt you arse grabbers...what the feckin' hell you tryin' ta pull!>> A brief tirade. But soon he's moving off to choose his tent. Eventually choosing tent C 4. And there he plants himself with a few barrels of Kegborne mead. And several of his company gathered about to toast his courage.
Interested as well. I remember darkest dungeon fondly.
This RP I can understand. We all seem chill and willing to wait.
I could go either way on the discord thing. I check mine every other day or so, and most of my servers are actually partially muted. But yeah either way.

Thank you kindly. And now we wait for everyone else to come join in.
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