Your facility is located on one side of a small unmarked dirt path, beaten by the passage of feet, hooves and wheeled carts. The path runs the entire length of the Day Valley and part of the way out either end.
You talk with the men, asking about their experiences in the Sultan's militia. They say nothing at first, but a young man with darkly toned skin, more so than the others, and the only one with a bit of scruff on his cheeks, speaks up with an earnest tone.
My Captain, we're all volunteers. People who were picked up off the street of their own will. He scratches his scalp beneath his head wrap.
We never received any formal training, but we are all initiated adults. We can most of us shoot and all of us fight, at least as well as our bodies allow us. We'll do our best to serve you Miss, but I'm afraid we couldn't promise any more than that.. He looks around, and the others mutter an agreement.
One of the scrawnier men raises his hand and introduces himself.
Er, Assal.. Miss.. My brother and I.. He elbows the even skinnier fellow next to him and he hesitates before waving plaintively, apparently intimidated by you.
We used to play at herding. I think.. The words escape him, but they return when looks you in the eye and sees what lies within them. His voice carries a determined note, one that wasn't there before.
We can handle those spears. Well enough at least. You look at him carefully for a moment, then nod and gesture for them to retrieve their weapons.
By the time Assal and his brother, of the name Lola, have beat their return you've already struck up a light conversation with the remaining soldiers, who seem to have taken a bit of pride in their new work and amongst themselves determined who the four strongest are. You give Hon, Jamai, Ghorma and Plisk each a brand new scimitar, and they seem just as pleased as the brothers were and are the six of them all caught up admiring one another's weapons, complementing the other on how fine and wicked they are when you bring up to them the issue of who the guns should go to. They all of them agree that it should either go to the scruffy man (who still hasn't introduced himself) or Haru, a fellow with a hawk's eyes, not a native but still a subject of the Sultan, who they all claim hasn't spoken a word since they were all herded onto the caravan that drove them here. He remains silent as you speak about him.
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StationCaptain's Hut - A dried clay building that has a bed, a desk for important documents and a heavy wardrobe with a lock for clothing, weapons and other important items, as well as a wooden door for added privacy and safety
Barracks - A squat, open building made from wicker packed dirt that can comfortably house 20 men; also used to store arms and supplies
Small Tower - Three tall logs leant against one another and lashed together at the top; provides a vantage point for guards
Prison Box - Accommodates 1 prisoner
Well - A hole in the ground where water is drawn from
Personnel--
8 Green Militia--
Assal - Spear
Lola - Spear
Hon - Scimitar
Plisk - Scimitar
Jamai - Scimitar
Ghorma - Scimitar
Beard? - N/A
Haru - N/A
Stores2 Spears
4 Scimitars
1 Lasrifle, Marksman Pattern
1 Laspistol
1 Starved Horse
Procedure- Allow merchants and natives
- Run the poor off
- Deal with others as you see fit
- Honour the Sultan
Name: Azdna Shey
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing as tall as most men and with wiry muscles hiding beneath her skin of deep-bronze, not many suspect Azdna as female on the first glance. Her deeply inset pair of amber eyes is always ringed with black mascara - obviously needed in such a hostile enviroment. The smallish nose and lips might create a sense of womanly charm, were it not for the near-constant frown of the eyebrows that dissipate them from doing so. Reaching over the shoulderblades, her coalen hair is finely braided in a multitude of strands - and bound with a strip of leather, as not to impede in combat.
Background: Hailing from the streets of the sultanates capital, Azdna made her hardy living as cutpurse, take-and-run, occasional burglary - you name it. A small clash of daggers with a fellow street-urchin somehow acquired her the interest of a merchant, who after a few weeks of gauging and gaining her loyality (mostly through meals, mind her), set her up as his daughters private guard - not trusting men to do so in fear of possible tarnish. After that one was successfully and honourably married of some years later, same merchant got Azdna a place with the guards. Let's just say that her insight and somewhat underhanded methods of fighting and going about things gave rise to some sort of recognition. Not one that did her good, with things being as they are now.
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Topic: (TSG) Station Day - Day One, Arrival (Read 10471 times)