Ollumhammersong

The Dark Company

Im working on it but I have this thing tonight I have been preparing for. Once that is out of the way I can get a post up.

The Dark Company

That's 11 people. That should be an entire squad down.

The Dark Company

Right I am just trying to figure out how many of those are on their backs so far. I think I counted 6?

The Dark Company

Im confused, how many enemies are still standing?

The Dark Company

The man Viktor fought readied a second fist to be launched his way before he was interupted by a shrill Cawing and a sharp pain in his face and a Kestrel dived hard and fast to scratch the face of viktor's foe. Laughing Heartily and resisted the urge to clap at the timely intervention of his friend and the deep gashes that now appeared in the Heavies cheek he threw himself back into the fight with relish.

Hooking his fingers at the neck of the breastplate he heaved and kicked out at his left ankle to further unbalance the large man and cause him to come crashing down onto the dock plates which nearly buckled and broke beneath him from the weight of his armour. And the smack of his head against the wood. Just to make sure that he stayed down Viktor moved to heave the man onto his back and was promtly met with a somewhat sluggish blow to his other side after he did so. It was clear the man was a little stunned buy the fall and the hitting of his head and was still determined to fight off his opponent. A strength Viktor could well respect. But all the same he responded to the blow with a sharp jab into the mans jaw which seemed to push him over the edge. Viktor stood and placed his foot over the mans neck and held it there, Ready to increase pressure if the man should try a second attempt.

Looking around at his fellows to see how their fight progressed. For the most part things seemed to be going well. Minus a few bruises they were winning fairly handedly. He heard the familiar flutter of wings and the small weight of his companion as he perched on his right shoulder. Beak and claws still bloody from both fighting with the downed man and ripping into the flesh of it's lunch. It spread it's wings slightly and seemed to inspect and groom itself, oblivious or uncaring of anything else that might be going on around it. Viktor smiled at it but made no moves to pet or touch it. To do so without permission would be a grave disrespect and treat as if it were little more than a common pet.

The Dark Company

I might have to find someone to teach Viktor how to read.

The Dark Company

I can teach the use of the Spear. If you don't mind learning from a barbarian.

The Dark Company

I'll make a second post finishing my fight. I just didn;t want to write out, nor post a huge textwall.

The Dark Company

Viktor laughed as more tankards were pushed towards him. He cared little for the quality of the ale since it was being given out freely. He was not so proud as to turn down or waste free food if it was offered. He downed the tankards as they came heartily. Mixing his concentration between drinking and listening to his other fellows. And though he probably had four or five tankards in quick sucession they were hardly strong enough to stagger him, though he did feel a slight blur cloud his thoughts and vision after twenty or so minutes that seemed to persist.

When it was time to leave he pushed himself to his feet. With no more free ale this tavern held little to keep his attention. He followed his new comrades outside and back towards the docks. He tried spying his friend in the skies again but could not. He was either still eating or off doing something else entirely. He would find his way back to Viktor if he wanted to. He paid little attention to the man reading off lists, he found that many of the people in cities loved their lists and had them for every possible occasion and reason. Trying to simply read such lists much less understand their purpose or gods forbid try to make one himself was enough of a strain for him.

The same could be said of the crates being loaded on to the ship known as the RAGGATON. They and their contents meant little to him but it seemed the symbols stamped on the side of the boxes meant something to the others around him. He gathered that the cargo was dangerous somehow, but the particulars were lost to him. He may have seen explosives in his year since leaving the tribe but he was not familiar with any names that could be attached to them. Or even how they worked. Though he was not overly afraid of having to travel with this cargo. He was more worried about being on the ship in general. While it would certainly make for a new experience and interesting tale he did not think anything was capable of crossing the great seas and enduring the storms it's spirits could conjure. A death at sea was no way for a Kordish Man to die.

And when the call was made for a good and hearty brawl was made for the rights not to ride on the ship, Viktor roared in approval as the simple but reasonable rules were laid down. No weapons, only fists. A test of skills and abilities then. He eagerly jabbed the but of his glaive into the dock planks and rested his cap on the tip of his blade before he raised his fist along with a throaty roared curse in his native tongue as he charged towards one of the men of this enemy squad.

The man was wearing his heavy armour, and was clearly a head or two larger than himself. But Viktor hardly cared. Size did not make a warrior and if viktor played to his strengths in this fight well it should be a damned fun time. He took a fraction of a second to take in his opponents armour, Made of cold and inflexible metal. That hardly mattered to him. He would try and take advantage of this and in return avoid those steel wrapped fists that could easily crack a rib if used right. He instead focused on the man's un-helmeted head as he closed the distance. By that meaning he quickly grasped the mans neck and sent his own forhead forward with a loud and dazing crack into the other mans. The many tankards of ale definatly helped absorb some of the shock of this attemptand was probably some of the reasoning behind it.

Both men stumbled backward in a slight daze but the Heavy was much more solidly built and recovered first to launch a meaty punch into viktors side that he only just managed to turn enough so that it more connected with his hard chest and not his soft kidneys. Even still, It was a respectable hit. And one he was not keen on allowing a second through.

The Dark Company

Viktor stood tall and straight amongst the assembled crowd as they were addressed by this recruiter. He raised an eyebrow at his stern and overly gruff nature. He was either in a piss poor mood at having to be here or trying far to hard to intimidate people. Either way he cared little. He signed the name he learned to spell in the year or two since he left his tribe for the wider world. The So called sergeant, whatever that meant. He new that the militaries of these lands loved their titles to denote leadership. As if skill and courage were not enough. Besides this man had a less-than-thrilled look on his face mixed in with some surprise at this note. This may not bode well, or it may be for another reason entirely.

He soon tired of the speil this man was giving and simply waited for his name to be called. He focused his attentions on the skies above them. Watching the birds and the clouds in general though for one bird in particular. It did not take him long to find it's slim, dangerous profile and hear it's shrill screech as it dived suddenly upon an unfortunate rat that happened to get spotted as lunch.

As his friend left his sight he turned back to the shouting man in time to hear his name be called along with a string of others. He tapped the but of his glaive against the dock planks and pushed through the crowd to find his new and supposed leader. He eyed him carefully as well as many of the others that approached. If this was to be his 'squad' as they liked to call it. He imagined that these would be people he would fight alongside mostly. They seemed to be a mixed bunch with a few in the heavy metal armours he ahd grown accustomed to seeing. He had little use for such things as his nomadic upbringing taught him to abhor such a thing that could cut his and the rest of the tribe's ability to move and follow the herds. Even transporting such armour would be considered a waste of time and horses. But he could imagine how in these lands where everything was close packed and crowded that speed wasn't as much a concern.

He shrugged to himself internally, Well as long as they could swing a sword and use their armour to the best than may the spirits watch over them and guide their movements.

The suggestion to move themselves to a tavern was echoed loudly by Viktor. He could use a decent drink. Or at least a stiff one. And as they gathered round the table he had far less concerns about the quality of the ale than others. He grasped the the tankard placed before him and chugged it as easily as their sergeant did. “By far it wasn't the best he had ever had it was sour and more watered down than was proper. But it was perhaps surprisingly not the worst he had ever tasted either.

When the people around the table started to introduce themselves he paid attention enough to grab their names and any boasts they claimed to make about their skills and whichever of them either offered up their drink or looked like they had no intention on touching it quickly found it being grabbed as he leaned over the table and pulled it closer to him. He soon had quite the little collection of tankards and was enjoying the contents of each.

When it finally got to his turn he finished the current tankard he was drinking “You may call me Viktor” his accent was rough and foreign, this was clearly not his first language but he carried on. “I am warrior of the Storm Talons Tribe from the lands you call Kord. And I join you all to earn the rights to stories and great deeds that I may bring back to my tribe and earn my ancestors respect. And to see sights and experiences far beyond those I can experience back home.” He tapped the woad lightning bolt tattoo's on the side of his neck to show his tribal origins. “I Would be happy to return with tales of honourable allies as well as enemies for the fireside. Maybe I will speak of your deeds as well to my people when I return home?” he offered with a shrug. Their character and worthiness of song and deed has yet to be determined. He was not proud and arrogant enough to return home and claim he met no one of worth in his travels. Besides more characters always made a tale gripping.