A Step Down the Other Road(Closed.)

[Clair Feldsky]

OoC: Not much in the way of rules for this thread. First off, it's not canon. It's built around the idea of Clair needing to go "under the radar" to accomplish her mission in Bern. The thread(s) that follow will be a what if about Clair doing some actions that would help gain the needed reputation to help her pull off her disguise. In essense, doing mercenary work.

Second off, it's not canon. This means that it doesn't really fit into any timeline that well. Don't bother trying. This never happens. It also means that you could bring a your own character from the far corners of the Western Isles to participate in this thread if you so choose. I'd prefer to keep it to existing pc chars though. Not chars made up on the spot. If you wish to bring someone from AWay, that works too, although I don't want to be dealing with powers and races in this that don't exist in Elibe.

There's no app, since these chars have already been approved. Just be sure to mention what your char looks like in your posts. The more, the better.... Um... Have fun, play nice!

RIGHT! One more thing. If you join, be active. I'm partly doing this out of a desire to post, so if the people that join don't post any more often than my other threads, it doesn't help me.[/selfish post begging]

BiC:

It was about midday, in a town on the north-western edge of Bern. Nearby mountains could be seen from the village, standing in the west and casting silent vigil over the Lycian League. The dusty trail from those mountains led straight up into a small and worn village, where it died into the packed ground between buildings. The town itself wasn't on the main pass from Bern into Lycia, but rather, a smaller, less used path. While the town wasn't on the primary road, it was still frequented enough to be kept alive, and to support a large inn, which doubled as a typically noisy tavern. It was far from a glorious example of city maintenance, but it was definitely not a ghost town.



Clair walked into the town. Or Cleo, rather. For now, she was moving under the radar. Trying to establish a reputation as a talented merc swordswoman. Specifically, trying to find a way around her previously established reputation. All the Bernese factions were on guard against Clair Feldsky, the Falcoknight Commander from Illia. They were always watching for that one. But if she could establish an identity as Cleo, a mercenary for hire, then new opportunities would be opened up to her.

So she'd taken another name. Left her pegasus behind. An impersonator would keep the ruse that she was still with the army up until this scenario was over. She'd pulled her long blond hair back into a ponytail, and used a piece of dark red cloth to tie it back, letting it flow freely down from the top of her head. Rather than white, she now wore a dark sleeveless shirt, black leather armor with a bit of red designing covering her upper torso, but leaving her waist to bend and twist freely. She appreciated that it didn't limit her movements, but wondered if it offered sufficient protection. Black pauldrons with matching red trim provided a bit of additional protection, while a pair of dark gloves helped keep her hands safe. A pair of dark, tight fitting pants found their way into a pair of black leather boots with reinforced greaves on the front. Her only apparent weapon was given away by the basic, but reliable looking handle of an iron sword poking up over her right shoulder. All in all, she felt the opposite of inconspicuous with so much dark apparel on, but it did seem to be a trend among mercenaries. At least she wouldn't stand out so much in the dark, right?

She walked into the local tavern. Papers and criers had been saying that the small bordertown had need of a job getting done due to some sort of bandit problem. That had seemed about as good a place to start as any. She made her way up to the keeper of the tavern, and asked about the job offer. His response was only to point her at a table across the room where a single man in worn armor sat. It was difficult to make out his age, probably mid forties, but he had a short shag of black hair still on his head, and a thin, dark mustache.

Cleo made her way around a table of caravan drivers and the like, and pulled out a chair before easing into it.

"Heard you're looking to get a job done. Bandits camped out in the pass?"

The man cast a critical eye on her. She could practically feel him taking her apart and putting her back together again, his cold eyes sliding over her young face, and unworn armor. He wasn't seeing her for what was really there though.

[Red]"Too young. Untried. Go back to playing "rescue the princess" with your neighbors, Kid."[/Red] The man's voice was as cold as his gaze, and far raspier than she'd suggested. He'd hardly even spared her a glance as he rejected her.

The young Illian could feel a frown forming on her face at the treatment. Maybe at one time, that would have been the right thing to say to her, but she hadn't gone through fire and brimstone, hell freezing over, and into the belly of the beast only to have some deadbeat old man tell her to go "play rescue the princess"!

"I'm not going anywhere until you give me the details on your job." She spoke quietly, and this time when she spoke, there was the unmistakable sound of command in her voice, like steel being drawn from its scabbard. His gaze returned to her, and caught some of the experience she carried glinting in her eyes. His brow furrowed for a moment, as he seemed to be reevaluating.

[Red]"What's your name, girl?"[/Red]

"Cleo."

[Red]"Well..., Cleo, I don't recognize that name, but I'll take a chance on you. Why don't we see if anyone else shows up, and then I'll be able to explain to everyone at once"[/Red]

Cleo only nodded her head, and gave a small satisfied smile, leaning back in the old chair she was sitting in.

[Hoff]

Hoff had made good time trough Lycia and had just made it into Bern - he preferred avoiding the main roads, though at this point there was little choice when traveling trough the mountains. The pass would take him trough and off to the capital. Visiting his father was a thought that left him with bad taste in his mouth, and the closer he got the more he dreaded it. Now he was ready to turn around despite how much of a waste this trip would become.

He was vaguely aware of how most of his days traveling blurred together - As much as he refused to acknowledge it, recent events were heavy on his mind. Troubled and unfocused he continued on, barely stopping at inns for a meal and a night's uneasy sleep.

He had picked up word that the roads had become more dangerous in recent times. A fair few warnings from troubled innkeepers as well as some postings pointed this pass as the location of the trouble. He rode into the small town where the bounty was offered heading for the Inn. Walking inside he headed for the barkeep, pulling a posting from his pocket he pushed it forward. He pointed to a nearby table where a small group was gathered. Hoff walked to the one that looked to be in charge and asked

"You are looking for work? A sword hand?" The man grimaced looking him over.

Hoff's face was pale and the loss of weight was apparent, his overgrown hair pushed back in a headband hung down past his shoulders. His leather curiass was held together over his shoulders and he only wore a plain pair of gray pants. His hooded cloak was fastened and had a few noticeable rips and holes into the fabric. Around his waist hung his short slim sword the hilt sticking out to the side as the blade rested behind him.

"Hmm... What can you do?" The manwas not smiling and Hoff knew he wouldn't get many chances to make an impression.

"I know the area" he lied. He felt that would be the easiest to fake, then continued honestly "I have good eyes, and also am a rather capable tracker." The man's expression did not soften. He then added "My name is Hoff" inviting himself he turned slowly and found a nearby seat, sitting down facing him.

[Farlus]

(I'd use Tirion in this, but I figured I'd diversify the party with some magic. Plus, it should be fun to write Farlus for this seeing as he knows Clair. Unless you want that thrown out.)



The tavern was lively as taverns tend to be. Drunks stumbled about and the smell of booze and sweat was pungent as if the very walls had soaked up the scent over the years. At the bar sat a lone man. He easily stood out thanks to his appearance. The man possessed dark skin, darker than anyone most people had ever seen and short hair as white as snow. The same white hair grew from his face in a short, but regal beard. A drape of lavender cloth was wrapped around his torso and over one shoulder ending in a long and flared sleeve. His other arm was naked and sported a silvery tattoo of a flaming sword stabbed through a length of chain on his shoulder. His dark gray baggy pants, the ends of which were stuffed into a pair of brown boots, were tied by a white sash and the dark material continued a good quarter of the way up the man's torso. He tapped the floor of the tavern with his booted foot, waiting on his drink.

Finally, a glass of red wine was placed at the bar and the man placed two coins next to it. He took his drink and walked to the man looking for mercenaries. He knew that he wasn't much to look at, his build could be considered toned at best, but he had other talents worth paying for.

"You say you are looking for capable souls for a job. I have come to offer my services." the man spoke plainly before sipping his wine.

"And what services would those be? You look like you could barely lift your own luggage and you've no weapon on you. Besides, I've seen your type, prancing around like you're entitled to everything. Hit the road."

The dark man did not leave. Instead, he bent down and leaned on the table, setting down his drink.

"I don't remember asking your permission." he then flicked his wrist, hand lighting with an intense flame, "Farlus Norwright - detective, tactician, and combat mage at your service."

The man sitting at the table seemed to be weighing his options for longer than Farlus would have liked.

"Alright. We could use a mage. And your other talents could come in handy." he said extending a hand.

Farlus had the fire dissipate and shook the man's hand. He then sat at the table with the others, but not before nearly choking on his drink at one of those gathered. That face was unmistakable. What was Clair doing here?!

[Dirk Karavalenge]

Dirk never liked Bern. A wretched place, it always seemed like that was the second-worst place for a Sacean to go. Not really welcome anywhere around there. The Western Isles was definitely the worst, though.

Why was he here? His brother, Dave's, idea. Something about Dirk needing the exercise, that he had been retired for so long that he was starting to vegetate.

Dave had laughed at his own joke back then, but Dirk never laughed. He had long since forgotten how. The only emotions he showed nowadays were through the music he would often play on his flute.

Dirk tied up his horse, Kabold, outside of the city. An old and fine horse. Dirk briefly considered using a newer horse, but he and Kabold had been through so much together, he wasn't able to part. Kabold only had a few more years left in him anyway, what better end than an adventure? Dirk groaned, he was starting to sound like his brother.

He entered the tavern, all eyes fell on him immediately, then turned away just as fast. Some would recognize him as the Stone-faced Sacean, though he had not been out much recently. It wouldn't surprise him if people had forgotten who he was. He approached the caravan drivers, holding out a letter, "Dave sent me. You needed some mercenary help?" Dirk said in his monotonous voice, not changing his facial expression at all. It was a gift really, making people feel awkward just by talking to them.

[red]"Oh, you some kinda Nomad? I don't know much about this Dave guy, but one of my buddies in another city wanted me to get his help for some reason. Just don't slow the others down, old man."[/red]

Dirk's face twitched, giving the caravan drivers a short laugh. Do I really look that old...?

[Clair Feldsky]

OoC: For all intents and purposes, consider the Captain a GM char used to move the story along and provide an overall setting/flavor and provide information. There will be a point soon, where he is removed from our hair.

BiC:

Cleo began noticing others around the tavern who looked to be enterprising types, of a sort. A sallow skinned fellow in light armor was speaking with the barkeep about the job nearby. He was lightly equipped, and fairly guant. The disguised falcoknight herself wouldn't hire him for a combat mission, but would consider it if he had other skills at hand. That was of no consequence though. She wasn't the one here to do the hiring.

She turned her head away on seeing Farlus and began rubbing her eyes, trying to hide her face from view while she thought. What was he doing here!? He could give everything away if he made the wrong reaction. She saw the man offering the job eyeing her critically as Farlus approached, and returned to a more neutral expression, waiting for the events to get oj the road. She all but ignored Farlus, casting a straight faced glance his way to confirm the identity, before acting as though nothing were out of place. Or should she act nervous about a mage joining them? What did normal fighters do? Hopefully he wouldn't go and blow something they couldn't explain away later.

Cleo also took notice of a third man as he walked in. A Sacaen by the looks of things. The young blond-haired woman could put up with Sacaens, as long as they weren't causing her any trouble. Never the less, the still vivid memory of hundreds of furious torch-wielding Sacaens descending on Salvation Point, and nearly destroying the fortress and garrison would haunt her for the rest of her life. Even if they had a good reason for retaliating, as she'd later discovered, the Sacaen rampage had forever tainted her view of the plainsmen. It was possible that the reputation of the forces Richter had commanded had gained a similar taint from the Sacaen point of view.

The mustached man next to her at the table seemed to think enough had gathered. He stood up, placing both hands on the table as he did so, and bellowing out for attention of those gathered around the room. As she watched, she noticed that the man's arms looked bigger around than her legs. His voice sounded rough, and demanded not just attention, but silence from those present. It wasn't the same feel as Richter's command though, where you stopped to listen because you somehow knew he would inspire you to greater heights. This was an overwhelming force. A "listen because if you don't it will come back to bite you". It was impressive, while feeling uncomfortable. It was like one of her old teachers, Irrenica, but much stronger.

[Red]"Listen up. I don't want to hafta repeat myself. My name is Captain Dubracy. You can call me Captain, or Dubracy, and you're here because you want a job from me."[/Red] He stopped for a moment and gave a to each person in turn. His focus and demeanor was formidable. It practically felt like a physical push to Cleo, as she felt it wash over her. She felt herself sitting up straighter, partly from the intimidation factor, and partly because she was sitting up to try and match him.

[Red]"To be clear, that job consists of following my orders until the brigands west of here are dead, or scattered. If you can't do that, leave now. If you can, then you're looking at 200 gold apiece, and a bounty for any decent weapons or gear you bring me after the battle. If you acquit yourself well, then you can expect the opportunity to join up with me and the rest of my troop for more profitable work."[/Red]

Cleo frowned. Not alot to say to that. Either you went or you didn't. And the swordswoman had come here with a purpose in mind. Leaving now would only hurt that purpose, even if she wasn't as knowledgeable about this Captain Dubracy as she'd like to be.

"Dubracy, count me in. I came here for a job, and I never did like backing down."

[Hoff]

(ooc: ack i misread the post, will edit above, for some reason i thought you were talking to the barkeeper)

200 gold, this is what honest work paid. Seemed like a small sum to put your life on a line, though mercenaries probably didn't do it to get rich. Hoff wasn't here intending to make money either.

He wasnt bored, even if he was he wouldn't go off chasing bandits. His head was full with regret and he couldn't push the feeling from his mind. He was aware how acts like this were nothing more than silly search for redemption but he didn't care. His head felt blank, and he didnt want to think on it further. He wanted to do something, even if it was just risking his life. He remembered the feeling and he knew that he liked it, it made him focus. That is all he wanted to do now.

A dark skinned man entered shortly after - the brief exchange with the caravan leader impressed Hoff too. The amount of respect a mage commanded, it was something he was jealous of. He himself had to maneuver carefully, always hiding, always listening. Growing up he would kid himself that it is a good way, a better way to survive. But mages, they didnt have those restrictions. They could gather the attention of a whole town, could BURN their enemies in battle, could disappear entirely. Hoff smiled as he imagined himself, that could barely be trusted with a sword, wielding power like that. Knowing the he way that he controlled his own emotions, he would misuse it completely.

Next appeared an older looking man, a Sacean by the looks of it. He carried himself with experience, and his face remained solid as a he stood among them. Hoff didnt have any special feelings for Saceans - he regarded that most people are pretty vile. He didnt think being of a particular race was any more or less likely that this guy was from the vile majority.

His eyes rested on the merc that had been there since he entered - she responded quickly, he could tell she was not put off by bandits or by this man's straight forward attitude. Although she looked young, her tone and demeanor made it clear she was used to this. Her response to the Captain made Hoff notice that she herself was not afraid to show this, to those in authority and the rest gathered around.

He looked back at the man and watched his eyes as he scanned the rest of the people gathered. When they rested on him he didnt look away, instead he tried to keep his gaze as steady as possible. This man demanded his authority and cut straight to the chase. There would be no room to bs - he made it clear it would only hurt.

"Im in too" He kept his voice steady, he wouldn't show this guy he was intimidated. What did he care anyway? At this point his life was worth 200 gold, if he died that's 200 gold in his pocket.

[Dirk Karavalenge]

Dirk stood in a corner of the establishment, trying his hardest not to lean against the walls. He didn't want to get dust all over his tunic and look silly. Then the captain of this group spoke a few words. Brigands were always okay to kill, you never had to feel remorse for them. Their hands were always stained with much more blood than could ever be atoned for.

Two people already answered the Captain's call. A young woman and a skinny guy. He thought nothing of them, he had already seen younger and skinnier people hold their own in combat. He didn't seem to be surprised by anything anymore at least, though maybe that was just his age getting to him.

200 gold? Dirk didn't care about the money, this was just Dave's way of getting him out of the village after all. He'd just send it to Dave who would do something with it that Dirk wouldn't begin to understand. "You have my bow." he said without moving a muscle apart from his mouth.

[Farlus]

Farlus, doing his best to keep his composure, listened to the man's words. In the back of his mind, he couldn't banish the thought of how he was going to handle this Clair issue. He really hadn't expected to run into someone from the army, let alone her, in Bern. But the would-be-employer eventually finished his prattle about how it was dangerous and blah blah blah. Farlus was no stranger to danger and, really, the amount of reward money wasn't important to him. He simply wanted something to help him blend in. It wasn't enough that he had to cut his hair and grow out his beard, but he needed to establish himself in the town. Perhaps that was what Clair was doing, too?

"I have no qualms. Just don't flake on your end of the bargain." the mage said slyly.

[Clair Feldsky]

[Red]"Son, I'm not the one we're worried about when it comes to "flaking"."[/Red] Dubracy scowled over to the dark skinned man. Curious that. He'd not seen a man with that tone of skin, and grey/silver hair before.

[Red]"Gather up whatever you're taking. We're heading up to the mountains."[/Red] With that the man stepped out from behind the table, shoved his chair back into place, and moved to a nearby wall. Leaning against the wall were four tools of the fighter trade. A steel tower shield, as beaten and worn as the chest and shoulder pieces he wore, a heavy double edged sword, a long handled double headed axe, and a short spear with a broad point on it. He hefted the sword for a moment before replacing it and taking the spear instead and heading out the door.

Clair already had everything she was taking. Just the sword strapped to her back. Any of the old falcoknight gear could lead to recognition, so she'd nixed it from the start. At least she had one thing that was a little bit familiar. She'd been the one to hire Farlus into Richter's army. She'd spent very little time there since he had joined, but she was at least a bit aware of his abilities. She just hadn't figured out how to interact with him. Maybe tell the others that they had worked together before....

Cleo followed Dubracy outside, reaching up and clearing her sword in her scabbard for a moment before letting it drop back into place. She fidgeted with her gloves, sliding them better into place, and reached up to tighten the cloth holding her hair up. She'd be as ready as she could be today. It just felt a bit odd to not be facing battle on Corona's back, or with some other pegasus.

Dubracy led them up, into the hills. It was rough rocky terrain, as Bern usally turned out to be, but still had enough trees to leave the area well shaded as they approached the pass into Pherae. Certain people chose to use this smaller, more difficult pass because of the border fortress maintained on the primary road. In short, it was easier to get by unnoticed.

He stopped and pointed off the road to a standing slab of rock with the skeleton of a large tree leaning on it. It almost looked the corner of a building with the two put together like that. It provided decent cover, if nothing else.

[Red]"That's your spot. Take cover there, and keep watch for the targets. You'll know them."[/Red] He fished something out of his pocket, and tossed it to the oldest of the lot following him. It was a small, cylindrically shaped whistle.

[Red]"Someone should blow that if you see'em. It shrieks like the devil. I've got another five groups scattered across the area with them. You hear one, go find it and lend a hand.... The idea is that these brigands are expecting a caravan to be coming through on foot today. That's my group. Only they aren't your average merchants either. They look the part, but if we get attacked, they're another piece of the trap."[/Red]

With that, Dubracy left the others to find their places and started heading back down the trail, presumably to join up with his own group. Cleo really wasn't sure whether this plan was a good one. It had a simplicity to it that would make it work as long as enough people followed their parts, but it was dangerous for the individual groups. Tactical lunacy. That's what a battle was without aerial reconnaissance.

[Hoff]

As they walked walked up the mountain path Hoff was becoming steadily more uneasy. Dubracy of course wouldn't tell them how long the trip would be, which only added to his dread - he didn't like not knowing what was going on, much less having to bare it as they walked along for an unknown amount of time. He kept adjusting the sword at his side and pulling at his cloak absent mindedly as they walked.

Finally they reached the spot Dubracy pointed out and after giving brief directions and a whistle, he left. Hoff tried to keep his expression neutral, but the man heading off leaving them by themselves made him even more uneasy. He hadn't quite expected it, somehow since they started he imagined him being there along side them. Now he was left with the 3 strangers, and the one the kept them together went off to the caravan.

He caught himself constantly looking around, trying to get a glimpse of the road, or see something trough the trees and rock. He looked back at the group and trying to keep his voice low he decided to introduce himself.

"I am Hoff.." he tried to think of something neutral to say that wouldn't betray the dread that filled his head "Crazy plan huh?". His biggest concern was the whistle.. he hadn't ever fought in an open setting like this. On top of that, making a loud noise when the enemy appeared was exactly the opposite of what he knew about fighting. The only positive thing he could think of was that another group could see the bandits first, and if not, at least it seemed like there would be a good amount of reinforcements. Of course, not knowing anything about how numerous the enemy was, this did little to settle him down.

"Maybe we wont be the first group to see them, eh?" He spoke with a nervous chuckle and tried to force his face into a small grin

[Dirk Karavalenge]

Dirk rode Kabold all the way along with them, he had been the only one to bring a horse it seemed. The uneven footing wasn't exactly a good place for horses to travel. Kabold was a strong, old horse though, he could take it. Along with Kabold was Dirk's bows, of varying strength and pull. He also had a lance Dave made him bring along in case of melee combat, but he wasn't able to get much practice in that.

Dirk caught the whistle that the captain tossed to him, turning it over in his palm. A very simple whistle, he would rather use his flute but this was the sound they were hoping for. He dismounted and immediately ran up to the rock, crouching by it scanning the pass with his trained eyes. Of course, it was still too early for anything to be going on, but a glance over the terrain never hurt.

One of his companions spoke. Dirk didn't care much for talking on a job, but it was something to pass the time. "The name's Dirk. The plan is alright, they are taking precautions to make sure that their goods aren't taken by bandits by having many scouts along this pass. Also, it would be much more to our advantage to sight any enemies before they see us." he replied, lacking any tact.

[Farlus]

Farlus blinked at the captain's plan. That was it? Set up ambushes around a decoy caravan and just look for the enemy? Did he not know where these brigands were based yet or did he just prefer winging it? The tactician sighed. He missed being with the army. The sigh was immediately followed by a scoff. To think he would ever prefer an army environment to that of a small team like this. Kenneth would have smacked him if he were alive.

Perhaps it wasn't the environment, but the planner that irked him so. The Ilian forces were full of great tacticians, him being being lucky enough to be counted among their ranks, and his superiors not in the tactician roles were no slouches either. He was sure that both he and Clair could have come up with a better plan than this. He knew why he wasn't speaking up. Why wasn't she?

"That... that sounds like a plan." Farlus forced himself to say. He was used to displaying a mask of falseness when speaking, but this time it was outright lying. It weighed in his throat like a ball of lead after the words escaped his mouth. Nevertheless, the mage was ever surveying his surroundings. Looking for good placements and things to use in the pass should the daft bait actually work. It didn't help that he had no clue what kind of forces those other groups had to bare.

Though, before he could ask, the captain had disappeared.

[Clair Feldsky]

Clair watched the Captain disappear back the stony path they'd followed. This was their plan, she realized, and they were expected to follow through. They knew very little about their opponents, but Dubracy didn't seem to consider that an issue. Hopefully, his lack of telling them how to identify the bandits meant there would be no chance of mistaking them for allies.

"My name's Cleo." She spoke up in response to Hoff, glancing around at the others as she did so. Hoff seemed to be having second thoughts now that they'd gotten here. He'd fidgeted with his sword just about all the way up the path. The rest of them seemed unconcerned though. The Sacaen had an easy, skilled seat on his horse, and he had to have some talent with that bow of his. He looked like he could be around double her age, after all. And Farlus... she knew he had some skill. Time to put it to the test.

"Calm down and don't worry. All you have to do stick the other guy first. Hit your opponent someplace they can't afford to lose, or at least threaten it." The group's organization really couldn't get much better than this, considering the situation. An archer to bring down unarmored opponents quickly, a mage to handle unexpected things, and heavier enemies, and a pair of close up fighters to fight off whatever got close enough.

"Dirk, Farlus, we'll try to keep the bandits off of you while you work. We're going to be relying on you to kill what you can before they get to us, whether they show up here, or we end up going to find them."

She slowed for a moment, taking a few long slow breaths to ready herself in case of battle. Then she drew the sword out of the scabbard over her shoulder. The sound of the blade scraping on the leather melded with the sounds of the forest around them. Barely there to hear.

"Farlus, you should leave the lightly armored targets for Dirk, when you can.... I didn't expect your work to bring you down here, with that last job you had. How're our friends?" She didn't want to blow her cover, but was curious about what the army was up to. A bit of impromptu code would be the best way to get some information passed to her.

[Farlus]

Farlus was a little hurt by Clair's assumption that he was just going to stand in the back and sling spells. Of course, she hadn't seen him in battle recently so he supposed it made sense.

"Oh, I'm not so sure, Cleo." the mage said Clair's fake name with a bit of sarcasm, "I haven't seen them in quite some time. Though I assume they fair well enough."

It was true that Farlus had taken leave from the army months back to establish himself. He had a plan brewing that could potentially aid the Ilian military and any other armies they had allied with in addition to keeping the Iron Soul Ranger spirit alive. A mercenary guild that used most of the proceeds from their jobs to help burdened people and towns. If the problem wasn't solely money then the guild would dispatch a team to deal with it. It was like the Rangers, but improved with Farlus' knowledge of business. The mage was mainly acting as a mercenary to gather the team that would start the guild.

"I'm mainly here to help where help is needed. How about you, Cleo?" again, Farlus said "Cleo" with a mildly teasing tone.

[Hoff]

"Calm down and don't worry... that was exactly what i was thinking" Hoff responded - he probably would have been even more confrontational if Cleo had not taken such a leadership stance right off the bat. He appreciated having someone to listen to and wasnt fool enough to think he would be better at organizing their group.

He adjusted his cloak to where most of it was on one side, leaving his sword arm exposed. His shoulder was left unprotected as armor would restrict him too much. He was better at moving out of the way anyway, something else that would be restricted by a bulky cuirass.

He pulled his small sword out - it was more of a large thin knife than a sword, besides the proper handle and hilt. He spun it in his wrist to warm up, as he jumped in one spot lightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to warm up. Realizing how silly that must have looked he stopped and tried again to focus for any sound.

He walked quickly to the base of the of the rock. One of the trees' roots were exposed here and offered some protection - he could easily find a better hiding spot, but this would work and was still with the group. Most would be concerned with the others and probably miss Hoff although he was only a few feet away. He crouched to the ground resting his arms on his knees, still holding the showtsword in one hand. Balanced on his feet as to not actually get his clothes in the dirt, he sat and listened looking around intently, cursing himself for making his apprehension so obvious.