Mini Event Let's Try This Army Thing Again
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
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#1
dont know where the lights are taking us
but something in the night is dangerous
Three Two soldiers. Not a single one of them is really a diplomat, but as their only evident neighbors are to the North and seem to truly want to keep to themselves, Wessex isn’t that concerned yet. Let Ronin deal with them if and when the time comes. She will stick to the plan.

On a day after the Cloister trial had finished (as she'd said in the notice) it is late afternoon and the sun is well on its way towards the horizon. Cowled and cloaked, Wessex makes her way to the spire, bearing weapons of both steel and wood - weapons that can fly and make the air sing a song of sleek edges and sharp tips. Things that feel far more familiar in her hands than pretty words do in her mouth. But it is an opportunity to be bright. A time to fulfill promises. A night to lead. Having spread the word via a servant two days earlier, there has been plenty of notice given for the volunteer force to gather. Anyone. Everyone - of their own free will.

She parks herself in the shadow of the Spire, a lone figure at an easy meeting place. Unsure of how many will show up, Wessex lays her various tools of a former trade on the ground and waits.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
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#2
DEIMOS
we've all got blood on our hands
something somewhere had to die
so we could stay alive
In truth, he had zero desire to return to the Spire after their latest exploits. While their former sojourn had been successful in demolishing and extinguishing poisonous plants, the results had gone no further. They were back at square one – no further than when they’d begun breathing venom. He was useless again.

But this opportunity served him with some modicum of purpose; one he’d employed almost the majority of his lifetime: swords and cutlasses, shields and blackguards, throwing his weight into lacerations, into melees, into skirmishes, into crusades, existing as a weapon, a machinating machine. The beast knew the ins and outs of war, of standing beside comrades and allies, of uniting between violence and vehemence, blending into their irreverent purges and plunges. It was natural. It was inherent. It was in his blood, in his skin, in his tarnished, nefarious soul.

So Deimos still arrived, beneath the eyes of the tower, head held high and munitions at his belt: swords, knives, daggers, in case his prowess needed to be displayed, shown. But if it was Wessex – perhaps she already knew and understood. Hadn’t they been molded into similar forms? He nodded in her direction, not proclaiming or announcing who he was, what he was there for; no need, once a warrior, always a warrior.
the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
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#3
center>
loren

Loren had seen the notice for the military: he’d been going through everything on the Notice Board, trying to reacclimate himself to life in the Hollowed Grounds. It seemed he’d missed a lot in the year he’d been lost in his own head. The one that gave him the greatest pause—after Edrei’s death and Zariah’s disappearance, although maybe not even then—had been the invitation to Ronin and Remi’s wedding.

At first, the Launceleyn had just stared at the invite, completely dumbstruck. Then, hysterical laughter had bubbled up; he didn’t know how long he had stayed here, chuckling like a madman. Of course his two former lovers were now married. Of course they were. His life hadn’t taught him much, but it had taught him that he was likely to get suckerpunched at the most unlikely of times. And the two men Loren had loved, in his own way, had found happiness together. He supposed it wasn’t all that surprising, given that they were both loyal, smart, and kind enough to befriend even Loren, who’d hardly been kind back. At least, not a first.

So, though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not really, he was avoiding those particular reunions for as long as possible. Thankfully, there was quite a bit to occupy his time. With Edrei dead and Zariah gone, the full weight of taking care of the remaining Launceleyns fell squarely on his shoulders. Once upon a time he would’ve wanted that, wanted to be seen as the most important member of his family.

Well, he’d gotten what he wanted. And it tasted like ashes and regret.

Still, he did have work to do. Or rather, Loren didn’t have work to do. Given that he was unemployed—and given that he, at least temporarily, had more mouths than his own to feed—the former librarian needed to figure out a way to sustain everyone currently staying at the Launceleyn Manor. While he’d never been a soldier, at least not full time, he had been a member of the volunteer guard back in Northaven. Even though he hadn’t really been in the militia before, nor was he interested in leadership, he figured they’d welcome any able body.

Not that Loren looked able-bodied these days: his frame was rail thin, almost worryingly so. He hardly looked like he’d be of much use in a fight. But if he was forced to use the strength of his arms, that meant he was losing already. His magic, on the other hand, was quite a potent tool, even if he trended towards the lighter magics. Regardless, he came, though without weapons and without speaking. He stood in the back and off to one side, though there were only two strangers there. Meeting one of his old friends—or even one of his old rivals—wasn’t something he felt up to.

For maybe the first time, Loren wished he had the illusion magic his particular branch of the Launceleyns had been experts at. It would make this whole sneaking around, hoping not to be noticed thing a whole lot easier.

Ronin Taliesin
the Supernova


Age: 34 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 14 - Strg: 58 - Dext: 70 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
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#4
RONIN
THE FALLEN STAR
Luckily enough for the man who wished not to be noticed, Ronin was not in the physical or mental state to pick up on the fact that his former friend - definitely missing, presumed dead - was standing nearby. Ronin had intended to arrive first after Wessex, aware that the meeting was to be taking place, but exhaustion was a heavy weight upon his shoulders that these days he struggled to lift. Still, he was there. With no Edrei to take the day shift now to Wessex’s night, he felt that responsibility keenly and he was determined not to falter beneath it.

Still, this show belonged to Wessex, so Ronin didn’t step through the gathering to stand with her; rather he took up a place next to Deimos, offering the warrior a murmur of greeting. Nodding at the Ascended to wordlessly advise he would follow her lead, Ronin awaited further instruction.
now don’t you lose hope
I swear I never dream that we’re alone
I swear I still believe but I don’t know
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
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#5
dont know where the lights are taking us
but something in the night is dangerous
So… this is it. Three men and herself. Wessex almost laughs in dismay as it is abundantly clear that either no one else is coming, or the rest are dreadfully late and need a hard lesson in timeliness. “Quite the turnout,” she remarks sarcastically, eyebrows raised as she looks at them. Then shrugs. Well. Moving on. “I’m Wessex,” she begins by introducing herself to the tall, yet somewhat thin and frail? looking stranger. “You are?” After waiting for a response, the Queen nods and indicates the big man, “Deimos,” and then her fellow ruler, “and Ronin, fellow King.”

If no one is going to indicate that they know each other, she might as well do a round of introductions.

Now that that’s all taken care of…

With a shrug, she looks at the small group. “I had every intention of holding a vote for who should lead this volunteer force, hoping that more would show up, but -” with a look that should say everything, “I can see why we are few.” From Zariah to the fact that many of her people and Outlanders are peaceful at heart, the reasons are many. She should have known better. “Perhaps having someone most trust in charge would be better and eventually swell the ranks. Deimos?” Wessex turns to the Sword, confident in her pick but ultimately unsure whether he would agree to the task.

“Will you head this small group?”

She's busy, and will eventually need to pick up Ronin's slack - he's dying - and she knows nothing about the stranger. If he hadn't been her hopeful pick before (spoiler alert: he was), he is the only obvious choice, now.
the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 11 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 33 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 39 - Int:
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#6

Of course Ronin showed up—it was about defending people, and the ex-captain could never stand back when others might be in peril—and Loren felt a pang at the sight of the man. However, the last thing the librarian wanted was to be recognized. It was neither the time and the place. Subtly, he made his way to where he wasn’t in the other man’s direct line of sight. Then, however, it all fell apart.

Loren froze when Wessex asked his name. Glancing over at Ronin for just a brief moment, the summoner  turned his attention back to the tall woman and lowered his gaze. Hopefully she took it as a sign of respect, or nerves, or something other than the desperate attempt not to draw attention to himself that it was. ”Loren.” His voice was as soft and as low as he could make it and still be sure he was heard by the woman. After all, the last thing he wanted was to be asked to repeat it more loudly.

Obviously the librarian had no problem with Deimos being put in charge (though he was surprised the tall woman hadn’t taken command herself). So he simply stayed silent as he waited for the decision to be formalized.

LOREN
Brought back by satisfaction more times than the cat
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#7
DEIMOS
we've all got blood on our hands
something somewhere had to die
so we could stay alive
Hardly any others came – whether or not the lack of participants was due to Zariah’s enforced tactics, and freed from her bindings, the citizens had no intention of swarming to violence, or the rest of the world was disinterested. Perhaps they believed there’d be enough to protect them, to shield, to safeguard, wards amidst an age of blight, impending monsters, and whatever else trickled in through the shadows. His eyes ran over the others assembled, strong, determined, stalwart beasts and heathens, but what would they conquer without mass numbers?

The depths of his gaze maneuvered back to the Queen, listening as she shrugged, of votes like the arches of rebellion (little matter to them in the end), and the insinuation of his prior notions. The sentiments were clear, but he’d bear the weight in his shoulders, in the breadth of his chest, in the undulations of muscles and power, prestige, and domination – the only supremacy he could understand, could comprehend, were the slashes and lacerations and terrors of war.

But he was still surprised to hear his name clamoring over the others - most trust an even more bewildering, sobering inferno – and he wondered if there were ghosts and wraiths in his sights. It was a continuation, a cycle, a pattern again, where he’d started in Isilme, in Helovia, where the stretch of his barbaric prowess had bent him to higher ranks and commands, General of forces far, far larger than this.

But it didn’t mean it had to be this small, this miniscule. They could be more. They could do more. His back became straighter, posture more open to warfare, poised for predilection, honored, struggling not to show it. “Yes,” the singular word rang, acceptance like they’d always tolerated him, as if he was molded and melded for its foundations, for the clarity and scope of these small moments. What most might’ve found insignificant, he discovered traces of yesteryear, ancient, primordial sanctions of this is where you belong; in the fight, in the vehemence, in the bestial slide of massacres. “What do you want us to do?” What would be the first task? Where should he lead them? Where would they go from here – meager militia, trained and honed for something, if he had his way.
Ronin Taliesin
the Supernova


Age: 34 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 14 - Strg: 58 - Dext: 70 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
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#8
RONIN
THE FALLEN STAR
Deimos was a very good choice, and Ronin nodded his agreement as Wessex spoke. It was a pitifully small turnout, to be sure - but then that could likely be a side effect from Zariah's enforced enlistment. More would come, he was certain. Hopefully he'd be alive to see it.

Whilst he knew Wessex and Edrei had spoken about shift patterns - Edy taking the day (and now him, he supposed) whilst the Ascended covered the night, he waited for his fellow queen to speak on the matter. it was her meeting, after all.

And the name of the other stranger - whilst it sounded painfully familiar - was too soft for Ronin to catch properly. And upon turning and seeing a tall, frail looking man in a cloak, he paused for a moment or so before returning his attention to the others. Either no part of Ronin ever expected to see Loren again, or his appearance was so changed that he really was unrecognisable.
now don’t you lose hope
I swear I never dream that we’re alone
I swear I still believe but I don’t know
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
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Posts: 3,156 | Total: 4,350
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#9
dont know where the lights are taking us
but something in the night is dangerous
Loren. Ok then. Noted.

With a nod that she’s heard, her attention goes fully to Deimos, who is generous enough to accept the not-so-prestigious position. In any other circumstance, in another world, he might have been the General they need. But here? Here, their problems all seem to be magical. There aren’t any invading armies yet, so that requires a little bit of… imagination on their part. She spreads her hands in a rare gesture of uncertainty. She may be out of truly good ideas, but she doesn’t ask for Ronin to chime in and save the day. “In an ideal world, you’d have a lot of people to whip into cohesion. Now you have three. Two, if we’re being brutally honest.” A guilty look to her fellow ruler. “Sorry, Ronin.”

This is the nature of their relationship these days. Hard truths dealt with as much gentility as they can muster, or is appropriate. “Your ultimate goal is to defend the Hallowed Grounds. But I think there’s room to grow. If they see us under your instruction, finding ways to work together - Ascended and Abandoned and Attuned and Accepted all together - not just with swords and weapons, but in trust and as a unit, using our individual strengths to contribute, it might be a more attractive group.” A short chuckle as she backtracks a bit. “I don’t know how to do that, exactly, but that is the theory behind it. Right now.”

They need to be flexible and be able to adapt. What they need now may not be what they need a year from now. But she looks from Deimos to Ronin and then finally to Loren, if he’ll meet her gaze. There are a thousand things going on right now, this isn’t a priority. But maybe when the time comes to clear their heads and put in the physical effort this militia needs to get going, they can set an example for the rest of the people.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
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#10
DEIMOS
we've all got blood on our hands
something somewhere had to die
so we could stay alive
A truly volunteered militia was clearly hard to come by – the wake of circumstances surrounding prior rulers and their overarching demands. What was natural to Deimos as breathing air, others avoided. He wouldn’t fault them for it. He’d been trained and ingrained and numbed by the barbarity of battle long before; and for those who’d never felt the taste of war along their bones, their teeth, their flesh, they’d be hard pressed to assimilate and bind themselves into formations of destruction and mayhem. The beast thrived in, on, chaos and invasions, on tactics and machinations, and perhaps, perhaps, when the world cleared itself of their horrific pestilences and learned to thrive again, they could be useful. Or useless, as it were – if peace somehow maintained itself, and they found themselves without a purpose. The warrior wasn’t certain where he fell in those lines.

He glanced to Ronin on Wessex’s first account, a feral sigh withheld, swallowing down the other nuances of not just the King, but all the others afflicted. Defend the Hollowed Grounds was simplistic enough, except when they didn’t know what chiseled and sculpted from monstrous means, or anything else in Long Night’s approach. There were other considerations to abide by, but perhaps they didn’t truly matter now, not with a myriad of intervals scattering them in all directions.

Under your instruction, finding ways to work together sounded so bizarre to him, and not at the same time, because he’d done it once, twice, and could certainly try to assemble them again: uniting for a common front. He had no qualms with Ascended, Abandoned, Attuned, or Accepted, either admonishing or admiring them as individuals, how they could assist, how they could manage. “Perhaps we should focus on Long Night defenses for now.” The warrior’s gaze swung over from King, Loren, and to the Queen. “Especially in assisting newcomers who have yet to experience such an event.” Or they could try to recruit to their cause in the meantime, with most inhabitants having something they wanted, or were willing, to fight for. Just not forced into it. Minute and inconsequential they might’ve been for the moment, but they could root and insinuate themselves into something greater, given if they were successful or not in their upcoming ventures.
the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 11 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 33 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 39 - Int:
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#11

Somehow, Loren remained relatively incognito. He breathed a sigh of relief as Wessex moved on to giving Deimos his instructions. Seeing as the Launceleyn had no idea what threats they might be facing, or how to put together a militia, or, well, much of what was going on in the Hollowed Grounds at the moment, he decided it was best not to speak up.

However, there are faces that he is surprised are missing. If he got the chance, he’d seek them out in the coming days and ask if they’d be willing to serve; seeing as most of them had been in the Guard or the Army or the Watch at one point, he might be able to convince them, despite his less than stellar credibility at the moment. As for LongNight defenses, well, again in the coming days he was going to offer up what assistance he could. But as long as Ronin is standing there, the Launceleyn wasn’t willing to draw any more attention to himself than he already had. If that made Wessex and Deimos think he was timid, well, Loren had ample time to correct their misconceptions of him.

LOREN
Brought back by satisfaction more times than the cat
Ronin Taliesin
the Supernova


Age: 34 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 14 - Strg: 58 - Dext: 70 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
SUGAR - Mythical - Dragon (Ice Breath)
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#12
RONIN
THE FALLEN STAR
Ronin shrugged and spread his hands, as if to say that there was nothing for Wessex to really apologise about. He was useless right now, or as good as, but at least he could still think in straight lines and with a soldier's mindset. So even if he couldn't help in practice, the theory was golden. "I agree with Deimos," he said. "LongNight is the closest approaching threat, given that the Fae aren't openly hostile and we already have plans in place to speak with them."

In reality, he was worried just as much about the Voice as he was the Longnight, but that would not do to say here. So instead, he smiled between Wessex and Deimos (and the stranger).

"There are training grounds at the back of the Monster Hunter's Guild," he said. "You can use it for whatever you like, and you're welcome to host meetings there as well. I'll send out feelers, see if any existing hunters would be interested in joining as volunteers as well."
now don’t you lose hope
I swear I never dream that we’re alone
I swear I still believe but I don’t know
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
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Posts: 3,156 | Total: 4,350
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#13
dont know where the lights are taking us
but something in the night is dangerous
Wessex nods. “I do too. We can’t have another LongNight like last year.” She pauses and considers something for a moment.How to defend against the Monsters, other than our usual shut up and don't open the doors I don’t know. Send me a letter if you think of something new, yeah?” Looking back to Ronin and Loren “The Guildhall it is, for now, thank you. We’ll all put out feelers and see if anyone else is interested.” Could have escaped notice or been lost in the day to day minutiae. She knows there are more soldiers in their midst than this.

Finally, Wessex turns back to Deimos with a little nod to him and his new position as General, more or less. She has no doubt he’ll be up to the task. They may just have to get through Deepfrost before he can do much of anything with it. It at least takes some of the pressure off of her shoulders. “And when you call, we’ll be there.” Part of her wonders if it’s a good idea to make the militia somewhat independent of their rule, but at this point she can’t be seen as head of the army. It’s too much.

A Queen and King who aren’t afraid to be in the army, though, might be more inspiring to others.

For now, though, they will have to work with what they’ve got.

{FIN!}


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