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[Lucus Casius]

Martyn had set back to work after all was said and done, carrying in the last of the boxes.  When Sam approached, he was doublechecking the contents of the inventory.


  "Experience alone doesn't make a leader.  Familiarity and trust are needed, too.  And I'm new, to this group."

The revolutionary looks up at her and shakes his head.

  "It wouldn't have helped."

[Sirus]

"I guess you're right..."

With the work done, Sam grabbed a potato from one of the boxes. She'd cook it later and enjoy her first hot meal in days.

[Lucus Casius]

  "...Take an onion, too.  I don't know how much you like them, but I always enjoyed them with potatoes."

He went back towards sorting through the boxes, writing a few notes down in charcoal on a wooden tablet.   After a moment, though, he looked to Sam again.

  "What about you?  You were always inspiring enough, if a little loud.  And you've been part of the resistance longer than most of them, too."

[Sirus]

Sam took the onion, thinking that she'd put it back in the crate later. Not that she didn't like onions, but there were plenty of other folks who needed it.

"Can't tell if I should be flattered at the suggestion or offended at my music being called "loud". Loud is good. You need to be able to hear the music when battle rages all around.

But anyway, I'm not cut out to lead. I'm one of the younger ones here...and I can't fight at all. Moral support is important and all but it's no substitute for being...well, useful."

[Lucus Casius]

  "Hmph.  You're more useful than you seem to think, Sam.  You always have been.  And young or not, you've been a part of this for years."

  "As for battle...  Not all leaders need to carry a sword.  But there might come a time when you need to join the fight, too."

He shrugs, setting the tablet aside.

  "Maybe you just haven't found a weapon that suits you, yet.  Other than the drums."

[Sirus]

Sam shrugged.

"Magic is about the only thing I can think of that would suit me - I've been told that my playing is actually magical, though the guy who said that might have just been flirting - and I just can't get those fancy tomes to work. Staffs are no good either. As far as regular old weapons are concerned, I'm certainly not gonna strike fear into anyone's hearts with these." "These" were Sam's arms, which had a wiry sort of muscle to them but nothing like a trained fighter's tone. She still flexed them, jokingly.

"For now, these drums are all I've got. That and moving boxes. It's not much, but if the resistance finds that useful I'll play until my arms fall off."

[Lucus Casius]

He actually chuckled a bit at that.

  "Heh.  I'm sure we will, Sam.  Just something to think about for later."

[Aliemma]

After taking care of the last crate she had, Farra went to look for Liam. She spoke the second she saw him.

"Hey, Liam!"

"I'm sorry for the messes I've caused today by talking too much. I'm honestly surprised how calm you've been through all of this,"

[Blade Master Model 42]

~Chapter One~

~Doused Flame

After distributing supplies to the starving townsfolk, the Resistance made their way north to Millton. Near to the Mordo border, it was once a thriving trade town. Now the shops are closed, and the flour produced by the town's namesake is carted away by the occupation force. Soldiers line the streets, and their brutal enforcement keeps a fragile peace. The resistance quietly skirts around the town, as their destination is further north. An old stone warehouse, long since emptied by the occupation forces, had been turned into a small hideout by local rebels, doing what they can to hinder the Mordoan soldiers.

The only sound in the area is the rustling of the wind through the grass and trees, and the occasional insect. Dark clouds gathered in the sky, and the occasional distant roll of thunder hinted at a storm. For now, the valley they'd reached was dry, and the stone warehouse they'd been told to look for was finally in sight, just a few minutes ahead.

[Sirus]

Sam was subdued as they walked. She did her best to stay away from home since joining the resistance movement, and now here she was on assignment. She hoped her parents wouldn't be involved in whatever went down tonight. She didn't want to face them.

[Lucus Casius]

Martyn was silent as they walked, but out of habit instead of worry or fear.  The troubles of the previous day left behind, thoughts of striking against Mordo were once more at the forefront of his mind.  Even the threat of rain did not daunt him, for he knew better than most that the storm favored the partisan.  Should one use it properly.  And whoever the leader of the local rebels was, they'd almost be sure to use it.

[Blade Master Model 42]

Soon, the Resistance was at the entrance to the warehouse, which was shut. No one had come to greet them, and the building had no windows.

[Sirus]

: "I don't suppose there's a secret knock or anything...?"

[Stirk]

"Lets try this one."

Brock knocks on the door. Normally.

[Blade Master Model 42]

Brock's simple tap on the door prompts it to swing open noisily. Immediately, the assembled fighter's sense are assaulted by the smell of death and dried blood. Visible just beyond the doorway is a massive pool of dried blood. Someone clearly died there. Further in, damaged boxes and scrape marks on the floor tell a tale of plunder and looting.