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[Archangel]

Michael finished sharpening his sword, sheathed it and made sure his plate armour was securely fastened in the wagon. Reassured, he rode forward, chainmail jingling, to learn more of the men and women whom he soon would be fighting alongside. Gazing at the trudging ranks, he thought, I hope this sorry lot fights better than it looks, because otherwise we're in trouble. A month isn't nearly enough to get a properly prepared force. Gods, it looks like we've only a few handfuls of veterans, most of the mercenaries are of questionable valour, and our commander looks like he's spent all his life spent all his life sitting in a mansion somewhere eating, drinking, and fucking! This has all the makings of a total cockup.
Trying to shake off further dark thoughts, he spied one of the Standard Bearers chatting to a Handgunner. He trotted closer and slowed down so he could listen in.

[Dwarmin]

Albrecht hears the tail end of the pairs conversation "..seen many battles, but my first one was the worst, and it will always be that way.." as the handgunner turned away.

Isadora then turned toward the stranger and nodded. He looked like one those...mercenary knights. No tabard, no badge of nobility...
Was this whole army made of gold seekers?

Speaking to Micheal: Hey there, stranger. You seem to be bearing this weather better than most.

[Archangel]

Albrecht hears the tail end of the pairs conversation "..seen many battles, but my first one was the worst, and it will always be that way.." as the handgunner turned away.

((OOC: If you're referring to my character, his last name's Eckhard))

Speaking to Micheal: Hey there, stranger. You seem to be bearing this weather better than most.

Michael shrugged and scratched one of the scars on his cheek.

[Dwarmin]

OOC: Whoops, Ghaz didn't add you to first post in the main thread so I had to go hunting for your name and forgot to edit that.

"I'm guessing you didn't get though scars from mess duty? It's always nice to have someone with experience to keep the fresh ones from running away...

I've only been through two battles myself, once as a stretcher bearer, and the other, I fought in the line and ended as a standard bearer..."

[Archangel]

Michael smiled at the joke and nodded.

[Dwarmin]

"My name's Isadora. As if names will mean anything where we're going, right?"

There was a certain steely quality in his demeanor that was unsettling. She gave a weak smile, dropped her eyes and pulled her hat back down...

OOC: Logging out now...sleep time.
Feel free to wrap up the conversation if you like, or someone else can pick it up.

[Archangel]

Michael leaned down and gently shook her hand, his huge fist engulfing hers.

[Ghazkull]

The rain seemed to numb out most thoughts for the regiment, looking rather like a burial procession than a regiment marching to war. Most sounds were drowned out anyway by the loud ripplying rain and some kind of distraught silence seemed to engulf the soldiers. This eerie silence was interrupted by roars of Erbgraf Albrecht.

I DON'T CARE FOR THE RAIN AND THE MUD! THIS REGIMENT IS MOVING FAR TO SLOW!

only shreds reached the front of the regiment as the sounds were coming from the baggage train at the rearguard.

THEN BEAT THEM TO IT!....LEAVE THIS FAT MIDGETS BEHIND...FORAGE THEIR OWN FOOD!...

--At the Rearguard--

bbbut..Erbgraf...w-w-we can't mmmove the carts faster, it's the mud

Elmar show this fat midget how we deal with insubordination.

The Truchsess grinned evilly and grabbed the protesting head cook of the halflings by his neck, laying a yoke around his neck and strapping him to the cart.

And now pull your worthless excuse of an dwarf.

Bbut ii am an...

The halfling couldn't even finish the sentence before a bull whip cracked down on his back and turned his protest into a loud wail.

Shut up and pull midget!

Several halflings were starting to protest but were cut off by the Erbgraf

If you dont want to end like him you better begin to push this carts you maggots

Still mumbling a large bunch of the halflings began to push, while the wails of the head cook echoed over the plain, a Household knight sitting on the cart and bull-whipping the halfling...

[Riccto]

Wiess flipped his leather hood up after remembering, He had a job with this regiment he should probably be there and not here in this tavern drinking himself half to death, He needed the gold and a good fight anyw, ays, He jogged up a hill to find the regiment. The rain bouncing of his steel curiass and hood.

When he reached the crest of the hill he cocked his head to the side and looked down to the rather ramshackle train, Ogres, fresh milita, Halflings forced as beasts of burden. This is going to be quite the job he thought to himself as he jogged down to the front of the train where the standard bearer was marching, his well used sword and beautifully made pistol bouncing on his hips the entire way

[Taricus]

Boris was one of the advance scouts, and thus didn't hear the whipping. needless to say though, he would be very displeased to hear that.

[elitetaco3519]

Hapsus jogged ahead to the human section, breaking his line, but he's a Oger, what can you do? He wants to get to know the humans, for he has been with them more than he has his own kind. He has taken their language up and has a small liking to the little guys. He says in the most smallest, humanest voice that he can make. "Hello! My name is Hapsus. Do you like the taste of Fleash? Im joking." Hapsus also had a since of humor, not ha ha funny but, OH MY GAWD! DONT EAT ME kind of funny.

[Riccto]

Looked up to he ogre with a slight smirk curling up on the corners of his lips and a good way to prank him "Good" And then he suddenly switched languages to Tilean "<Day Ogre, my do you smell of....Ogre-ishness Today>" He sends him a quick smile under his hood as he keeps up with the company

[Ahra]

albrecht approached the household knight white faced beacause of repressed rage, he didnt even blink as he brought down his hammer on the knight, knocking him out. "whos next to try and bully the weak

[elitetaco3519]

The Ogre smiles back, "Yes, I have served many Princes in Tilea," He replies back in broken Tilean "You smell like human." Then he turns to the others, "Who wants to hear battle tales?"

[Riccto]

The man snicked slightly as the ogre responded back in Tilean and claps his hands choosing to respond this time in the language of the empire "My Name is Wiess, and why do we need to hear tales of battle when we will be experiencing some soon enough."