Partisan

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

Well the current old queen (Warren's ''true'' queen) probably isn't alive anymore.

NARUTO: Road to Ninja [ARC 3] Buy it now and get a second punt free!

Ayame Choko, “the Sewstress”

Departure to the Frontlines

---

The ronin didn't flinch as his blade clashed with that of the red haired boy in front of him. He handled his blade skillfully, although not to the point where people would be amazed at his skill. He was simply good, good enough to overpower Daiki and take on Haruka at the same time as long as he could form the battlefield to his own advantage. “A sharingan? Perhaps I should stay and.. take that. I could sell that to any clan. Care to hand that eye over for me, boy?” Well, there Daiki went, spilling his trump card by speaking to himself. Ayame was following from a distance, hiding in the shadows as she always did. But she couldn't help but feel.. slightly estranged as she learned of the Sharingan in the young boy's possession. He'd kept that hidden well enough. The mission had to continue, however, and right now the Sharingan was merely a tool rather than a surprise.

“Baka..” Ayame said as she looked at Daiki going toe to toe with the man. “Daiki, don't fight him. You can kill him, but we need him alive. He's our present to the Land of Iron. Besides.. just let him run. He can't escape us.” Ayame's plan had not foreseen that the ronin would push through the two boys. Maybe the ronin was stronger than initial intelligence reports had stated. Well, judging from his stature, he had more smarts than strength. They'd just have to readjust anyway. Not a single plan in the history of warfare had survived contact. This plan was one of the many testimonies to that.

With a quick movement, swoosh, the ronin's blade was swung towards Daiki's head although it was merely a feign movement, and the blade would never actually connect, although it would seem like it would. Before the blade even got close the ronin jumped backwards and continued running away, although his movements were starting to slow down and he'd sway from side to side a tiny bit as the poison was starting to work - slower than usual. Ayame was rather confused by that, too. “Doushita.. the poison should've kicked in by now..” she said to herself quietely while hopping from branch to branch, keeping an eye on the group. The ronin moved swiftly, on the same pace as a shinobi. You could tell this man wasn't a samurai, or a shinobi, but mixed the best of both anyway.

After a little bit more of chasing around, above and to the sides of the ronin if Daiki and Haruka followed the plan adequately, the man would slowly come to a halt as he swayed side to side. “Brgh.. I should've expected this after being hit by that bitch.. guess I have no choice.” he said to himself before reaching into his pockets. Quickly he turned around and revealed a pill that was unknown to the shinobi team. With a big movement he put it in his mouth and swallowed it before taking out his sword again. “If you want me alive so badly, I guess I'll kill myself. See ya' later bitches!” Before the combat could commence again the man collapsed and seemed to be dead. Ayame quickly jumped down from the branch she was perched on and kneeled next to him. She quickly felt for a pulse but it wasn't there.

“Ksu.. I never expected him to do this. Why would he even bother.. and no medical team at hand so deep in foreign territory either.” Slowly she got up and turned around again, looking around the environment to take a look at where they were. They were barely five minutes from Kannabi bridge, which was five minutes longer than her poison should've taken to work. Something odd was going on here. Did this man expect to fight her? Slow poison.. strange pill.. he didn't gain anything by killing himself..

Suddenly Ayame's eyes widened and she looked back at the, presumed to be, corpse. “Get back everyone!” Well, she was right in her thinking. The man's eyes blinked for a second and slowly he got up again, moaning slightly as the ''death'' had left him quite estranged to the sensation of death and revival. Ayame jumped back and reached back for her dai-senbon, which had been strapped to her back all this time. With a rapid movement she pulled the large bone needle from her back and stood at the ready, waiting to see what'd happen. The man simply stretched himself and seemed fine all of a sudden. “Hrhhhh.. so that's what death feels like. Pretty strange, I can tell you. You're probably wondering what happened but unlike that fool,” his words went paired to a gesture towards Daiki, pointing at him with the tip of his sword. “I don't spill beans about my trump cards. Or.. well, maybe this once I'll tell you. It's just too smart!”

“See, I know that Konohagakure has an assassination specialist, that's you, Ayame-chan!” His words went paired with a bit of laughter as the man apparently found himself pretty funny. He continued again, sheathing his sword again and holding it to his left, right hand on the grip as he stood ready to perform an iaido if he had to. “And I know poison usually works in the blood. It's quickest, obviously! So I took a pill with me that drains my body of all blood, and then it bursts and releases new blood into me! It was a hassle to buy, since a ninja had to make it, and also I had to find a suitable.. donor. So now your poison doesn't work!” Ayame couldn't help but feel annoyed at the man. Why go through all that trouble. What if the pill didn't work? Such a liability. But she had to admit, the plan did work so the man made a good call.

“Idiot.. Haruka, Daiki, GO!”

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

Probably he does, hehe. I liked the idea of him being some sort of traitor ultimately, constantly on the verge of 'Do I stab him or not' so I specifically chose this mission to torment him a bit. :p

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

I figured it happened on day 1, so I just skipped the next day too so you can add it later as a flashback. It's the way I'm accustomed to doing it.

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

There we go,

sorry about not getting it up yesterday, my internet was acting up (still is..). I can't even use internet mostly, and only skype and steam are accessible for some reason. Internet works 5% of the time and I used that to post.

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

Terryn Hoffmann

“Virtus Juvat Fideles”

---

It would take several days, two to be precise, for the Black Shields to be fully outfitted and ready to move. A letter was sent to king Gregar by Terryn that conveyed the state of the company, and within the day, late in the evening a letter was returned. It was quick, but not a surprise due to Rot Donar's close proximity to the Hoffburgt. In the letter, orders were detailed so that Terryn knew where to go and what to do. The first objective would be rather simple: act as royal guards for the upcoming fields. The castle guards were tasked with the protection of the castle itself, but that wouldn't be enough as the royal children were to be protected, as well as king Gregar and queen Anne.

As such the company was bound for the Hoffburgt, barely a day march on foot. The feast was supposed to happen the next day, so amongst the soldiers there was already a mix of noblemen and women that were headed for the party too, joining the march for safety. Ofcourse, they all had a retinue of their own with them. But that wasn't enough to protect you on the road where prying bandits, slavers and the occasional knight turned lawless would see you as a meaty sum of money, and your protection as a mere obstacle to get to the money. The noblemen realized this, especially with their wives and children with them, who are valuable to any man with a sane mind. And so the company of Black Shields was accompanied by a band of nobles and their retinues.

However the combination was short lived - upon arrival to the Hoffburgt town the nobles simply moved on to the castle and left the peasantry that called themselves the Black Shields behind them in this town. There was ample space in the castle for the Black Shields and so they were ordered, by the king or, more likely, his representative, to take home in a set of unused buildings on the outskirts of the town. A large portion of the men were put to work on converting the houses into a barracks of sorts - beds had to be made and your normal amenities had to be provided, such as a church-like room for prayer, a kitchen and a mess hall. The mess hall was not really a hall, as much as it was a line of tables outside in the courtyard. Some makeshift tents were placed overhead the tables to atleast offer some shelter from the rain, which was still pouring, but the water would slowly but surely seep through in some spots.

“You there, get on the bloody roof and start fixing it!” Terryn's voice went through the courtyard as he pointed at a set of 5 men, who were doing nothing, idly standing by watching the cooks do their thing. Their down-time wouldn't last long as Terryn sent them onto the roof and within the minute they had started climbing a ladder. These buildings are in bloody poor condition.. well, anything for the king, Terryn thought as he put his hands in his side and took in the sight of the building. It was a fucking shit building, but it was theirs, he supposed. Atleast for now - the Black Shields would be moving on soon enough. He sighed before walking towards the door and heading inside of this heap of trash they called the barracks.

“WARREN! SAEWINE! LAURENCE!” Once again his heavy voice rolled through the hallways of the building, which meant those he spoke to would no doubt hear him. He stood down the hallway at the entryway, from where the long, long hallway lead down the building. It seemed like this building had been used as a tavern, or perhaps a makeshift hospital, although it was made of stone and thus.. quite imposing compared to the wooden houses the other people lived in. Perhaps a stables? Former barracks of the castle guard? Who knew. Atleast there were enough rooms to give most of the soldiers some space. The rooms were outfitted for 4 persons per room, although Terryn and the noble commander had their own private quarters. Furthermore, a private room had been arranged for the camp followers that were deemed 'more important' such as the women (of pleasure, and those who are not of pleasure) and the cooks.

“Get your asses in uniform and meet me outside!” Ah yes, by now most of the soldiers of the Black Shields had been outfitted. You could tell this wasn't supposed to be a peasants militia, although it certainly looked like it. Although there weren't many men dressed in combat outfits, such as partial-plate, or chainmail, there was a certain uniform. The uniform generally consisted of a kettle helm with a noseguard, that also had chainmail attached which hid the rest of the face. All that was visible was a sliver of eyes, and a mouth, through the gap between noseguard and chainmail. Everything else was hidden and well protected.

The Black Shields wouldn't be the Black Shields if they didn't have the Black Shields. All recruits, whether peasant or knight, squire or ruffian, were given a heater shield, painted black in order to give the involved a sense of unity, to make the company recognisable from afar and in close combat, and above all, to make themselves known to any enemy that wished to cross swords. It was to be hoped for the three that were called upon that they had properly taken care of their outfit - after all, the king was expecting some top notch quality soldiery here even if these men were not all noble guardsmen.

With that being done Terryn marched right outside, back into the rain. Not that it bothered him, quite the contrary, long days in the rain had made him accustomed to it and now he wouldn't have it any other day. He might've been stationed in Coedwin for some time but that didn't change his liking for rain. As soon as the three men had appeared in front of him, he'd start talking to them again. “Listen up scumbags! We're tasked with protecting the kings son, Dorran, and that's what we'll do! Me and you, we're the ones who will be with him at all times! Do you understand me, idiots?” He would look at Laurence, who didn't seem too smart. Well, not smart in the regular sense. Terryn was quite sure Laurence understood what the task was at this point in time, but he also figured Laurence wasn't the one who would understand soft words and complex explanations as to why, what and how. He just needed direct orders and that's it.

His gaze switched to Saewine, who quite frankly had gotten the small straw in the drawings. He was not only stuck with these two veterans to compete with, he'd also need to learn quick. “As for you, Blue Blood..” A grin showed on Terryns lips, happy with the new nickname he got for the frail young boy. “Don't think I chose you because you're so good! You're here only because yer' a nobleman, and I need you to keep these two numbheads in check when speaking to nobles. You know the court rules, and they are just some warrior scumbags who haven't spoken to a nobleman in their life.”

He looked over the entire group once more as he now spoke to all of them, words still loud as always. Terryn wasn't a softspoken man whatsoever and that had become quite apparent over the few days that they'd spent with him. “In any situation to do with the safety of Dorran, Warren, you have the lead.” Warren might not be quick on his feet anymore with that back of his, and his questionable past with the queen.. well, Terryn would expect the man to stab a dagger in king Gregar's heart anyway. It wasn't like his past was hidden anyway, since Warren was somewhat well known in the world of soldiers. 'Master with the Blade' or 'Wyke's Raiders' had become terms anyone was familiar with, and with that, his past had also become somewhat well known, although ofcourse it was only the generalities. “Saewine will be the one who does the talking, cause he ain't much good with that little sword of his, and I ain't talking bout his manhood. Laurence.. you just.. look dangerous, like you always do. I'll just be at the back keeping an eye on Dorran, and I'll step in if things take a turn for the worse.”

Ah, this was quite strange. Normally Terryn would take charge, as obviously he was the head in hierarchy. But there has been a problem in the Black Shields so far - Terryn and the noble commander couldn't reach agreement on who to select as captains. Obviously the nobleman commander wanted nobles in command of the squadrons, and Terryn wanted warriors. Unknown to the three lads in front of him, this was a selection process. Saewine had been chosen by the noble commander, since he was blue blooded obviously. And from a high up family, too. Laurence was Terryn's choice - not too smart, not too dangerous in a political sense, and he could likely get the job done just by looking dangerous. Warren was the wildcard - both the noble commander and Terryn liked this man. The noble commander because Warren was obviously more famed than than your average peasant militiaman, and would allot a bit of prestige to the company. Terryn because, well, the man was a swordsman if anything. And as a captain, you were expected to be involved with training too. Having a man like that, even with a questionable past as raider and sworn protector of the old queen, as a captain would greatly improve the quality of the company. And also the life expectancy of the peasants. But he was a bit of a liability at the moment.

---

At the fall of the evening, after the men had gotten dinner, the company of four, namely Terryn, Laurence, Saewine and Warren, would head out to the Hoffburgt to take a look at the castle, as well as have a little talk with Dorran to make sure he agreed to their company. Quick steps in near dark lead up across the bridge, as the men approached the castle. When they entered the courtyard there would be ample time to look around, as the courtyard was way too big and open to take in the entire area, and Terryn walked too fast to stop and look. He entered the castle and headed straight down the hallway, as if he had always been here. In truth, he somewhat had been, since he'd formerly been a castle guard.

The hallways that seemed so complex were read like a book by Terryn and with some quick gestures he pointed at the feasting hall. “There's the hall, it ain't nothing special, and it can fit a boat load of people. We'll probably be posted there, there and there.” His hand moved with quick pointing gestures at three pillars, two on the left and one on the right, with a single right one that he reserved for himself. “Prince Dorran will be moving through the hall constantly I reckon, and you'll need to keep an eye out. He can handle himself, but just in case anyone tries some funny stuff...”

There wasn't anything else going on in the hall, besides some servants who were preparing tables and candles, but those were largely overlooked by Terryn. He moved on swiftly, leaving the hall (and the men, if they didn't follow) in the direction of Dorran's chambers. Once they'd arrived, he'd knock on the door. “Enter.” a voice said from inside, followed by the creaking of the door opening. Terryn stepped inside and urged the others to follow before closing the door.

In a chair Dorran was seated, at a table, ticking on his table with his finger. A clunking noise sounded everytime as his ring connected to the table. Terryn made a light bow as he approached Dorran. “These are the men I told you about, my prince.” Dorran nodded slowly before getting up. Slowly he would get closer and inspect the men, looking at armor and weaponry, and noting that Laurence had a mighty big sword. The Black Shield seemed obsolete for someone who used a double handed sword, the formalities of uniforms being lost on the prince. “You three.. can you give me a rundown of your former professions.. wait.. Saewine... of Runsworth?” Dorran stopped in front of Saewine as he looked into the boys eyes. That's about all he could see in case the boy was wearing his helmet (as he should). The obvious mix up of names was unnoticed by Dorran. “I didn't expect to be accompanied by a nobleman tomorrow.. or, well, actually I didn't expect a nobleman in the company of the Black Shields. Peculiar. How is your brother, eh..” The name wouldn't come out but Dorran didn't seem that interested at all either, so it wasn't a big surprise. He looked over to Warren now, and squinted his eyes as he attempted to discern him from the little he could see of the man's face.

“Ah.. and is this.. the famous Wyke? I've heard lots about you and your bands of raiders. Not all good things. But atleast those bad things happened to the Sawarim following Sultanate scum and not honest and hardworking Broacienians.” A firm nod ended the conversation before Warren could respond. Atleast the sentiment of being anti-Sawarim was shared by someone other than Warren. Dorran's gaze switched over to Laurence, who he didn't recognise. Not that he would recognise him without the helmet, either. “I guess you were hired purely on your physique. You look.. dangerous. Not a bad quality to have. Not sure what you look like under that helmet, I suppose it can't be too pretty being a brute like you are.”

He turned around and went back to his chair, sitting down and continueing his little scrutinization of the men. His ring tapped against the wooden table again and again now that he'd continue tapping on it. “Very well, I am not really that interested in your former professions. That's just a formality my father told me to ask you, but frankly I don't give a rat's arse what you did before you joined the Black Shields. But I am interested by something else.. please, tell me your motivations for joining the company.. is it money? Greed? Or were you running from something.. truly, I am interested in your stories.”

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

I am hyped for the post, Partisan. I need my fix of Laurence baaaaad, and I wrote him into a corner of 'getting drunk with new friends'.

@Eschatologist

Expect it tonight. It'll be an intro to the next ''mission'' or arc as I like to call them (to keep in spirit with story telling) which will probaby have to do with the upcoming feast.

For my information, how do you guys all feel on timeskips? I don't want to overdo them (1 year later...) but I estimate a few days/weeks can be alright from time to time? Gives one a timeperiod to let possible collabs take place.

NARUTO: Road to Ninja [ARC 3] Buy it now and get a second punt free!

@Angel Eyes THIS? This is what you needed my help for?

Gawd damn

NARUTO: Road to Ninja [ARC 3] Buy it now and get a second punt free!

Yamato Minamoru, “Young Master”

Pound Cake

---

Yamato wasn't impressed with Tsukiko - not that he had ever been - and simply grinned as soon as she closed off the little cave. His foot swayed from side to side as he had sat down again. It almost touched the wall every time as space was limited, but Yamato was quite content sitting there. “Nananana..” he said, mimicking Tsukiko's yammering. “If I hated you you'd be dead already, whiny bitch..” A few more minutes passed as Yamato relaxed in the little hole, putting a hand behind his head to support him, swaying his foot side to side. In what seemed like an hour, the bombs finally went off. Slowly Yamato would reach up, getting himself as straight as the little room would allow him to. He yawned and stretched slightly, before reaching back with his fist. With a simple punch he smashed through the wall.

As he reached through he looked over the giant canyon, spotting quite large quantities of Yakuza running towards his location while others were more focussed on the advance attack of Nobunaga. For a moment Yamato took the time to inhale deeply as he stepped back into the little hole that Tsukiko had made him. Forming seals rapidly as he felt his back hit the wall, he suddenly lunged forwards with a few steps, before jumping very high into the sky, headed straight for the enemy group that was running away to cover the escape with the scroll.

After thinking logically, Yamato figured the scroll would be in the center to form a protective cell around it. As such he'd destroy the outer layers first. Following his handseals he proclaimed the jutsu name, which would cause many Yakuza nin, thugs and would-be samurai to look up above to only see a black shadow falling towards them. “KATON! Gōka Messhitsu!” The 'shadow' the Yakuza saw, that was actually Yamato, suddenly lit up as a torrent of highly focussed fire was spewed out towards them in a constant stream, and as Yamato adjusted his head to form a circle of attack around the center of the group, the fire followed suit. It formed a circle around the center of the Yakuza cell, eliminating most if not all of the protectors of the scroll. It was now up to Tsukiko to take advantage of this.

With a heavy thud! Yamato landed in the deserty canyon, pushing up a wave of sand dust around him as a result of his landing. As he raised himself up again he flicked back his wrists behind him and engulfed them in fire. It caused the entire area nearby to slowly dim as the light of his technique was so bright making everything else appear darker. He turned towards the defenders of the scroll that were still running towards him. After all, it's better to run at an enemy you can beat, than to run into a canyon of possibly more traps.

The first man he met, a scruffy looking man with a black beard, attempted to hook Yamato. He simply ducked under the attack and rammed his flmaing fist into the Yakuza's stomach, ending his attack prematurely and half way into the strike. The man pummeled over making way for the next guy, a blonde with combed hair who seemed to be some low-level shinobi of sorts as he formed handseals and suddenly poofed into three clones. With rapid movements Yamato closed in, extending both arms sideways and clotheslining the two outer clones before he moved his arms forwards and hammer struck the middle man, who also poofed away into a cloud.

“Ofcourse. The real one is above. How basic.” Yamato uttered as he looked up to see a black shadow descending onto him. Rather than dodge, Yamato simply swung his hand up to grab the man by the shoulder. In the process of doing that he got a very, very deep cut in his own shoulder as the man slashed him with his katana. Yamato barely flinched, only the blood showing he was wounded. It was in total relation to Yamato's normal strategy of taking the hits in order to deal damage. With a rapid movement he turned his body and slammed the man into the ground by his shoulder, ending in a large sandy crater as the man laid there before being covered slightly with sand that slid back into the hole.

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

I'm a-okay with that. I wish I could've gotten a more intrigueing post off today but I had to go to my karate school to help with the exams.

Then it turned out I was grading kids and adults so I spent 19:00 to 23:00 there criticising kids.

It was hella fun. :p