Giles took a moment to place his hand down on the waist high walls.  It wasn't enough to really allay the dull ache of his legs and lower back, but it removed enough of his weight to give him a moment of comfort.  What he really needed was to sit down or better yet, to sleep.

Giles was exhausted.  Though he had been at the fort only for only two seasons it was starting to feel like somehow Giles had become the indispensable link of middle management.  Originally set up as the logistics sergeant, he had been somewhat free to do as he pleased for his first several months, a wonder which seemed almost untouchably far away at this point.  He had been given liberty to see the men as he wished, wander between the platoons and the patrols, only being responsible to maintaining a record of the monthly supplies that Rudyard brought on his wide-bodied cart and ordering what ever the fort could not manage for itself.  It had been a rewarding job... both for his easy interaction with the troops and for the generally low volume of priority work that he really needed to accomplish.  It had given him the free reign to take the assignment of leading Rodrickson and Edenburg onto Wazifi soil to rout out the necromancer who had been living a mere three days away.

Of course, that had really been the end of the honeymoon phase...  At the end of that mission, Giles had been promoted to Lieutenant (a few letters from his father seemed to have done the trick).  Of course he had lead the group of volunteers southward to deal with the necromancer (no easy task) though he had never really been able to catch his breath since.

He had acquired a platoon as soon as he had returned back, the previous lieutenant having been reassigned to somewhere in Raphael, which of course had prevented him from making any further excursions to rid Al-Wazif of the Necromancer's apprentice.  It had taken Giles a few weeks to learn the specifics of the job, though his sergeant was helpful for all the mundane details.  The problem was, that despite his quick ability to learn, he had never really been given a break from the word go.

Some time in April, Lieutenant Dorian, the command executive officer, had been recalled to Craine, leaving a gaping hole in the military hierarchy.  Captain Brashear of course, had seemed to bear the brunt of this loss, his demeanor becoming surlier by the passing weeks, his attendance on the patrols and the watches becoming ever more infrequent as he seemed to spend more and more of his time churning through the paperwork of the command.  Though Giles too had seemed to collect much of the work, being tasked almost ad nauseam by his commanding officer to deal with the minutia of approving and tracking liberty, and managing the smaller adjudications of scuffles or disagreements within the ranks.

This of course, had lined up with an increased burden on watches and patrols, as Brashear was unable to volunteer for many of them any more and somehow, Lieutenant Broskow seemed to have become completely useless, constantly shirking his duties off on the other three, already frazzled junior officers.

And so, over half way through the long shift at the gate, from 1200 to 2000, and having spent most of the previous day on patrol of the southern border, Giles now finds himself in need of a serious nap.

"What are you going to do when you get out?"

The voice belongs to Private Douglas, a fairly new accession, barely at the fort for a month and one of the few people there who was newer than Giles.  By the casual tone of his voice (and the fact that Giles was hunched over with his forearm was resting on the walls, completely turned away from the other two) Giles guessed that the Private was talking to Corporal Stice, a short but thickly muscled veteran of the fort.

"I don't know."  Stice returns from over Giles' other shoulder.  "Sometimes I think this gig is too good, you know?  I mean the pay isn't good, but you're fed, and you've got a bed, so there's nothing to do with your money anyway other than take it to Raph and blow it all on girls and booze every third month...  Couldn't go hungry here if you tried."

"What!?"  Douglas seems flabbergasted, his tone rising twice as loud.  "Man!  I know just when I'm going to do.  Sign on as guard work in some swanky inn.  You know they'll pay double in Hyrnan?  I've heard their so short of muscle they're recruiting girls in some places.  Crazy right?".

Giles can't help but chuckle.  Though he had little room to judge, it always seemed to be the ones who had done the least, the ones who had years remaining on their commitment that couldn't wait to get out of the Megalan Army.  Not to mention they were the ones with all the freshest "gouge" on the "good jobs" that were sure to be easily exploited.  Sometimes Giles wondered if anyone had successfully managed to get their lucrative dream job on exit, or if as Giles expected, that all of them came to a rather unexpected crash on the rocks once they had gotten out of the military, finding that they had to work outside of the service as well.

"Yeah, maybe."  Stice returns, his tone skeptical.  "I doubt I'd get much work for security.  Wouldn't intimidate anybody at first glance, I'm too short.  They tend to want the big guys, or ugly ones, to avoid all the fights... So you'd do fine."

"Yeah,"  Douglas responds, completely missing the joke.  "Well, it's good work, and Hyrnan's only a few weeks away so I figure it'd be easy enough..."

Though it is at this point Giles stops paying attention as something on the hills ahead gives him pause:  three riders cresting upwards over the southern hills.  It was disconcerting for a pair of possible reasons... first, if this was Lieutenant Kalid and the others coming back from their patrol, they were both an hour early and down one man, for patrols always went out as a group of four.  Giles could only think of a few reasons that three out of the four would come back early and none of them were particularly pleasant to think about.  Of course, it could just be that the low angle of the sun was disabling the better of his vision, hiding the last of the four...  Giles placed his hand just above his eyes, trying to block out the glare while scouring the surrounding hills.

Alternatively, the three riders could be from someone outside the fort... and given the fact that they were riding up from the south, it would probably mean that they were riders from Al-Wazif... a much preferable scenario to a lost soldier, though it would gave rise to all sorts of other questions...  Yes, now that they were fully in view Giles could indeed see the edges of the long white robes whipping about their heels.  Giles removes his hand from the wall, standing up straight now to try and get as good of a visage as he is able.

"So in any case, I figure once I've got enough saved up from here..."  Douglas continues, though Giles is fairly certain that by now, Stice is ignoring him too.

"Quiet."  Giles interjects, his eyes narrowing on the three riders who are by now only a half mile or less away.  Nevertheless, Douglas gets a few more words out before Giles hears the light thump! of the private being rapped on the chest by Stice, who seems to have quickly found what Giles is looking at.

"That the patrol sir?"  Stice asks, though the answer is readily apparent as the three crest over the next hill, their muslim garb now obvious as they approach the front gates of the fort at a lope.  It is only another few moments before the three slow to a halt, the lead rider holding up a hand to keep them a stone's throw away from the front gates.

"As-salām 'alaykum."  The lead rider greets Giles in Arabic, his short horse pawing the ground and shaking its head in nervous energy as the rider holds the reigns with a single hand, his face set in an expressionless gloom.

"I am Maimun ibn Kasib,"  The man continues in near flawless Anglish.  "Messenger of the Great Sheikh Hamid Jinar of Baiji.  I have have a message for your Captain from the Sheikh..."

OOC:  Giles welcome back to the action!  Apologies for the massive post, though I had a rather significant amount of backstory to fill you in on, not to mention setting the tone at the fort and the tone of the thread.  It is 1700 on July 1st.  Consider yourself free to act as you see fit, though you may attempt a roll vs. Soldier to recognize what protocol would have you do.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:41, Sat 14 Mar 2020.

The ache in his legs matched that in his spirit, he thought poetically while looking out across the southern plains. He twitched his knees to keep his legs moving, feeling that the sharper intermittent sensations of pain were more easily endured than a constant throb. Occasionally, he'd get a gust of wind that would irritate the three scars that crossed his face, from a harpy's claw - and it would take his mind elsewhere for a short while. Overall though the ache in his body now, at least matched that of his life of late.

Brashear's original fondness of Giles had seemed to have been diminished over time as his workload became more administratively focused and heavier overall, and the gaps in ranks had left even Giles tired from lack of good rest. Though he had noted in life he'd only ever really slept half that of another man.  Though despite the irritation of his position, and the surliness of their captain Giles offered nothing but positive attitude to the man during their infrequent meetings, and would seek to offer solutions to any problems he had to relay to the man. He similarly, offered a positive visage to his peers and the staff under him. Hoping at least to beacon the mindset he wished instilled in the fort.

In reality, he just felt rather dreary at his current situation, after the excitement of dealing with a necromancer and having months to study, practice with the sword, and delve into his own studies of magic, his life had become monotonous, without colour and lacking any of the temporal flexibility that would allow mindful recovery. But none of this would provide benefit should he reveal it to people at the fort.


As Douglas began talking about his plans to make his fortune after service, Giles considered the problem of Lt. Broskow, and how best to deal with his slack-heartedness. His first thought was to break the man's nose, and offer a stern warning of future punishments should such things continue...


"To work doors, you need a silver tongue. Ever tried to talk down a drunk idiot? Short of that, need to have friends to avoid having knives put in  your back" he added to their conversation without diverting his gaze from the horizon.

---

It was later and the Muslim men were standing in front of him. He considered replying in Arabic to the men, but thought better of it, hoping that their ignorance of his understanding may loosen their tongues enough for him to get a hint to their visit.


"Good day,

A message for our captain? Direct from the mouth of a Sheikh? he said, feigning his awe of the situation.

I can take you to him... he offered, before gesturing for them to ride with him into the Fort.





OOC: Glad to be back

I'll roll the soldier to follow standard protocol - and then modify it as I post

22:04, Today: Giles 'J'naeth' Hind rolled 6 using 3d6.  soldier (IQ/A) .



I think i'd like to spend my CPs to get an extra level of charisma - I'd love him to become a more active mage/warrior/etc. but I think the function of being better socially will make the whole adventure just that much more entertaining, for us both.

Though having thought better of that - let me put 1CP into 'administration' instead and forgo charisma for now.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:27, Sun 15 Mar 2020.

Giles feigns a certain amount of interest with the Wazifis... certainly their sheikh had little more than a podunk village to oversee, probably no bigger than the fort itself...  Still, Brashear was quite adamant about keeping good relations with the locals.  Giles wouldn't be the one to keep a local dignitary from seeing the Captain if it was what was required to keep up the good faith with their neighbors.

Giles waves the man on, expecting him to ride through the gate, though instead the messenger dismounts alone, leaving his two comrades holding on to their mounts along with his reigns.  All the same, Giles thought to himself, as he climbs down from the ramparts and leaves Douglas and Stice to watch the others...  It was easy enough to raise the gate if the two were to cause any trouble.

As the Wazifi approaches, Giles notes his slick, wet-looking hair that is pulled back on his head into a pony tail that hangs down to his shoulders.  His beard is close cropped and well trimmed, a luxury that even Giles seems to be unable to get these days...  Apart from his hair though the man seems worn from the ride and the heat, with sweat marks thick around his collar and arms.

"In my culture..."  The man says as he approaches Giles.  "It is proper to give your own name when someone introduces himself."

The words take Giles somewhat aback, though the man's face is set and expressionless...  there seems to be no ill intent or hurt behind the words.

"I have my sword."  Maimun pats the weapon on his hip, a wide, curved blade with the tip so angled that it seems useless for anything but cutting...  "I understand if I must relinquish it until I leave."

OOC:  I'm slow rolling this a little bit for a few reasons, the most important of which is that I need to match up some timelines here.  As a note, Rondald, Terri, Gustav, and Judoc all arrived and left a little over a month ago, heading towards Craine.  Magnus arrived with the others, though he had been staying to wait until he could catch a group back to Raphael.  You have not seen Finn, though the others would have told you that he departed the group at al-Hassan, the village of the Necromancer.

Giles nodded, It is true, and just omission on my part without disrespect intended. I'm Giles Hind, Lieutenant here at the fort.

I will take your weapons before you meet the captain, that way all are on equal terms, but I'd trust you not to draw it inside the fort. Despite differneces, my experience of Wazifi is that they have a sense of honour like us, and hold to their word as well.

You can keep your sword, and I'll hold it for you when you go to meet the Captain. You won't need it here - but if you choose to relinquish it, I'll keep hold of it until you wish it back. he said graciously, not liking the practice of stripping defences from a man infront of subordinates.

"It is common practice, though, you are right. he added, to avoid confusing the man's understanding of Megalan culture.

OOC: Ah, the juggling act! No problems at all, we can go as slow or as fast as you need.

Maimun nods at Giles's introduction, his eyes meeting for a moment though his expression not changing significantly from the emotionless appraisal.   Though as Giles's introduction is complete, the man's eyes begin to wander to take in his surroundings.

"That is kind."  The man says simply, letting the matter of his sword drop without further conversation as Giles turns to show the messenger up towards the captain's quarters.

"I admire your your forces here."  Maimun notes after a brief stint of silence as the two walk along.  "I have always thought we Wazifis have much to learn of your organization...  The things you must be capable of..."  Maimun trails off after a moment, letting the thought die as the two enter the fort through the reinforced courtyard doors.

Giles recognizes once in the doors and he hears the ruckus coming from the mess hall that the troops are likely still at chow... though it was probably worth it to go to Brashear's office first anyway...  There was a good chance he would be there, not to mention the fact that he would likely appreciate this visit to start off as low key as could be managed.

"Indeed," Maimun continues once the are walking within the halls of the fort.  "I have heard you have achieved much.  Is it true that your people subdued an evil wizard not long ago?"

OOC:  I forgot to mention in the last post, but your successful soldier roll would tell you to do pretty much what you are already doing.  Captain Brashear would want to make decisions with any international implications on his own (or pass them up the chain of command as he saw fit).  You would think that if Brashear was in his office, going direct there would be the best solution, though it may be more likely that he is in the chow hall.  Let me know if you want to redirect and bring Maimon there instead.

Giles walked with the man at a pace that allowed him to view the fort at his leisure, knowing that the Captain may well be eating, he wasn't in a rush to deliver the Wazifi to the office.

"The organisation of the military does us credit, but perhaps does also have some drawbacks too, but each force has its own way, that often fit the people and provide its own benefit. he said conversationally.

Giles grimaced inwardly at the ruckus coming from the mess hall, but ultimately decided to avoid it altogether, there was no need to unnecessarily announce the arrival of a Wazifi, his presence would no doubt be known to everyone in short order anyway.

As they walked, Giles kept up a pleasant demeanour as they moved ever closer to the Captain's office. "We do often have some problems along the border, on both sides in fact, but most of them are not worthy of note... the most significant ones are usually announced by the Captain, though. I'm sure he has all details. he said avoiding a direct answer.

On the way, Giles looked for a passing soldier and stopped one, asking him to head to the mess hall to inform Captain Brashear that there was a guest awaiting an audience.

As they wandered the last corridors before their destination Giles suggested nonchalantly "It's rare for a Wazifi to visit this fort, even more so for an emissary of a Sheikh. Your message must be of great import... he said, after which letting the air hang silently for the man to reply.


22:53, Today: Giles 'J'naeth' Hind rolled 13 using 3d6.  fast-talk.

Not entirely sure of the import, but suspicious of the intent, Giles mostly avoids the question, deferring off to Captain Brashear as to what should and should not be revealed to their neighbors.

Maimun seems little bothered by the answered, maintaining his stoic composure with a simple, "Ah."

Giles instead tries to turn the tables on the man, rooting for what this visit must be about.  Indeed Giles turns some of the messenger's tactic back on him, complementing him on the import of the mission and the grandness of the message.  But like Giles, it seems that Maimun is not interested in spilling information early.  "Yes, it is."  He responds quite simply.

The way to Brashear's office is not far as the fort is generally small, so though Giles looks for a soldier to proceed him, he does not find one before standing at the closed door of the captain's office.  Though it is usually open, Giles knows well enough that likely anything going on inside would need to be interrupted for this.

"Sir!"  Giles says, pressing his face close to one of the seams and rapping lightly on the wood.  "We have a visitor."

"Yeah!"  Brashear answers.  "Come on in."

Giles holds out a hand, accepting Maimun's sword before he opens the door.  He hears the Captain add under his breath "I guess this is a fucking party."

Giles walks in the room, looking over each of his shoulders to Find Magnus standing up from small wooden chair and First Sergeant Spratt already pushed towards the corner of the room.  Brashear is sitting at his desk, a decanter of amber liquid pushed towards the side and two empty glasses in front of him.

"Don't worry it."  The captain adds - the words being equally likely for Spratt, Magnus, and Giles, all of whom seem equally unsure as to whether they should leave or stay.

"I'm Captain Nathan Brashear."  The captain stands, walking towards Maimun.  "How can I be of service?"

Maimun, the Wazifi messenger does not extend his hand, but walks into the door holding his chin up.

"Captain, I am Maimun of Baiji, my sheikh, the great Hamid Jinar, has become aware of a very grievous violation of our borders.  It seems that a war party, staged from this very fort has pierced our border, killed our people, and sacked our treasures."  Maimun lets this information sink in for a moment and though Brashear starts to comment, Maimun cuts him off before he can string a thought together.

"No doubt you were unaware of this, as condoning such an event would be an act of war.  I find it my duty to inform you however that such events took place under your very nose..."  Maimun raises an eyebrow, glancing at each man in the room, though his gaze falls on an extended period on Magnus.  "My sheikh is forgiving, and understands how such things can happen.  He does not seek conflict...  However he cannot allow things to stand as they are.  As payment for these transgressions, my sheikh seeks only those treasures which were taken from Wazifi soil.  If they are returned to us, our argument is over...  However, if they are not, you leave us with no choice..."

The room remains quiet for several extended moments.  Brashear's cheeks flood with pink just above the line of his beard, though he is slow and methodical in formulating his thoughts.

"I'm afraid you are right... I have no knowledge of any expedition like the one you speak of.  I can assure Sheikh Hamid Jinar that I will look into these accusations, and I will be happy to send message with whatever conclusion we reach."

This thread is joined by 18a:  A Wrinkle in the Plan

OOC:  I realize that you guys are mostly along for the ride, though I wanted to give you a chance to respond and see if there was anything you wanted to add.

Giles glanced at the men in the room and then the Captain, and had a twinkle of apology in his eyes but gave no physical indication of his bringing of the messenger, and an additional problem to the captain. He was quite unaware, but would not reveal any knowledge that it could have happened or that deception was afoot. He simply stood, straight backed, as a soldier would.

He didn't say anything though, but altered the look of his eyes hoping that nobody in the room revealed their previous activities to the man. But Giles was curious about the response both in the immediate now, and over the next few hours and perhaps days.

He considered the implications of such a threat. War with Al Wazif was not a good thing (OOC: is the 'sheikh' the king of Wazif? or is he more like a Duke/Lord of a town/area?) but Giles did wonder just whether a war would be the resultant act. It seemed a little offence to declare full war, and the Northman suspected that there perhaps was some ulterior notion to the whole situation. Perhaps they wanted something specific from the treasure.

Either way it didn't bode well for an already pressed fort, it was more likely that skirmishing actions would be taken by each side and there be a minor increase in hostilities in the area; perhaps until a person of import was killed. Either way, despite reservations, Giles felt tantalised at the notion of commanding a company of soldiers against Megalos's historic enemy and then subsequently found himself twitching his wrist to feel the weight of the man's weapon, and using it to measure his likelihood of successful conflict with the Muslim man.


OOC:

Haha, thank fuck Giles didn't say anything incriminicating!
This message was last edited by the player at 20:28, Fri 20 Mar 2020.