The first qualification of a Soldier is fortitude under fatigue and privation.  Courage is only the second.  Hardship, poverty and want are the best schools for a soldier.
-Napoleon Military Maxim No. 58

Magnus stands in line for the dining mess, a large clay bowl in his hand as the social chattering of soldiers buzzes on all sides.

It had been quite a month.  The journey back from the prison of Perdition had started some six weeks ago and due to various hiccups it had taken significantly longer than the trip there had been.  It wasn't the treacherousness of the trip, indeed they had managed to escape any engagements as they came back through the mountain passes, missing whatever massive beast lurked in the last valley and avoiding all of the carnivorous plants that speckled the first with Terri's help.  It had simply taken extra time to navigate all the dangers, to plan the days so they would not have to spend a night in the high mountains where there was no shelter and the winds whipped with brutal force.  The worst of it though, had been the fact that even pooling all of their resources, they had simply not brought enough grain to feed the animals for the whole trip.  When the last of Gustav's reserves of oats had run out, about the time they were making their way into the wide draw where the massive ants and beetles had lived, the pace had slowed to a near crawl where they had to stop several times a day for hours at a time to let the animals roam and feed on the thin plains grasses.

Finn had been difficult too.  Though Magnus had come to like and even care for the plucky little thief, he had become borderline intolerable on the way back.  It all seemed to stem, from a simple difference in what amount of risk each of them thought was acceptable.  Magnus seemed to think that risky situations should be avoided, especially if they were unnecessary, where Finn it seemed, considered risk a mere fact of life that could be easily bargained if the rewards... or even the possible rewards seemed to be worth it (which Finn deemed they almost always were).  Of course, this insight was little comfort when Finn insisted on continuing to bring up the sore subject of all the potential treasure they had missed.

It had started off innocently enough, with simple comments wishing they had prodded the prison just a little farther... or speculating on what might have been in the other cells.  It did not take long however, for the repetitive nature of the comments to wear on Magnus's nerves.  Things only degraded as the comments seemed to get ever more snide and biting in a sort of passive-aggressive way.  Finn at times second guessed the actions they had taken as cowardly, actions Magnus still saw as prudent.  Finn had particularly set Magnus's jaw on edge when he, out of nowhere, had remarked, "Hey, 'member that time we almost ran away from that empty room after we beat all the little pixie-troll things?"  Even thinking of the laughter now made Magnus's fist clench.  "I mean we couldn't carry that crystal out, but at least we know what's in there now, you know, in case we ever go back to get it right?"

Magnus had to admit that he was relieved when Finn had parted ways with the others at al-Hassan...  The spry mage had suggested they stop there to check in with Azraa, the elder who had given them the necklace.  'After all' Finn had said.  'The Wazifis owed them for getting everyone out safe, and for taking down Mika'il of course.'  Magnus had been flabbergasted by the comment and was convinced it was far more likely (or at least likely enough) that Finn would be killed on the spot for all the blood that had been spilled...  Not for the first time, Magnus had been happy for the presence of Terri, who had simply suggested that Finn would be better off on his own.  It was a suggestion that seemed ludicrous now, looking back on it, though at the time she had given reasons that were persuading... and miraculously, without argument, Finn had agreed, splitting ways entirely amicably.

The rest of the way back to the fort went on with substantially less strife, though slowly.  When they arrived, it was to the news that Duke Bran of Craine had taken note of their mission to kill the Necromancer, and had summoned for anyone who had been a part of the mission to come to his castle to be rewarded.  Though certainly the idea was tempting, Magnus could predict all too well what would happen if he had gone.  They would all travel to Craine together and go to the castle... but even if Magnus was allowed to partake in whatever reward had been offered, the group would still disperse quickly, likely leaving Magnus on his own... in a major city... far away from home.  It was not an inviting prospect as a being that most men considered 'monstrous'.

Instead, Magnus had opted to stay at the fort, at least until Rudyard had come back, at which time Magnus had intended to escort the merchant back to Raphael and go back to his family with his bags full of loot and his stories.

He had learned shortly after that Rudyard had departed in the morning just before Magnus had arrived... missing each other by a matter of hours...

Still, Magnus could not complain about the time he had spent at the fort.  He had been well fed and housed and he had offered to help out with the watches to make up for the army's cost to put him up.  Overall, the soldiers had been incredibly accommodating, perhaps even kind and Magnus had gotten more positive attention here than he had ever gotten before in his life.  He was frequently stopped and asked to tell again stories of the specific battles or the sights of the prison.  Even Captain Brashear, who Magnus had seen little of in his time at the fort, had gotten into the action, asking Magnus one night over supper to recount ever detail of their brief fight against the Wazifis before Judoc had turned the room into a blazing inferno.  Brashear had listened intently, asking a host of questions - most of which Magnus had a hard time answering since he didn't speak the southerner's language.

Magnus takes a brief reprieve from his thoughts, holding his bowl out to a private who is serving the supper tonight, a massive tub of thick, brown stew.  The young troop slops a heavy ladle into Magnus's bowl with a smile, and Magnus takes a seat at one of the long tables, giving a wave to the handful of soldiers already sitting there.

"Cookie's really outdone himself tonight."  a corporal mentions to the table abroad, barely pausing to chew in between bites.

Manus wasn't sure how he felt though, now that he was coming up on his last days at the fort.  He had heard second hand word that Rudyard had come in this morning, with a heaping load of goods, twice his normal volume.  Magnus put his spoon into his bowl, bringing a bite of the stew to his mouth, a savory blend with thick chunks of meat.  It was a welcome reprieve from the almost constant thick, wafer bread that was the norm for most dinners in the fort.  This was only the second time they had eaten meat that month, though Magnus had heard the fort kept a small herd of goats, mostly for milk, and occasionally a lucky man on patrol shot one of the fleet-footed antelope that grazed the surrounding plains.

"You're telling me!"  Another of the men responds, leaning back on the bench seat as he closes his eyes, savoring the thick flavor of the stew.  "This ain't no antelope though!  One of the goats go lame or something?"

"Nah."  The corporal grunts, his face now hovering only a few inches over his bowl as he continues to shovel in his food happily.  "Rudyard brought in a brace of cattle with the cart this morning.  Cookie's put a whole side in the stew and has the rest of it out..."

But the thought is never finished.  Magnus, horrified after swallowing his first bite, had pushed his bowl away from himself a little too firmly, shoving it across and off of the other side of the table.  The bowl plummets to the floor, splitting open with a crash before spilling its contents everywhere.

In a moment, the whole mess hall is silent... and it seems that everyone is looking at him.

"I wanted to talk to you Magnus."  The voice breaks the seemingly interminable silence and Magnus feels a hand set on his shoulder.  He looks up to see Captain Brashear standing over him.

"Mind coming up to my office for a bit?"  Brashear turns, not waiting for an answer, instead walking towards the mess line...

OOC:  it is 1630 on the 1st of July.  Sorry for the size of the post, though I feel the background information is pertinent.  Hopefully I didn't take too many liberties in playing your character.  Perhaps you would be much more careful with what you eat, though in this case it is an easy mistake to make, there simply aren't any cattle in the area.  Your reward for the last bit of the last adventure (post the awarded CPs) is a point earned in the bard skill, which is justified with all the stories you have been telling around the fort.

As a note, I had intended on keeping this hidden until the loot was officially split, though for my own reasons I want to speed you up a little bit.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:52, Thu 19 Mar 2020.

The Fort was, perhaps ironically, one of the few places that Magnus had ever associated with a home. The familiar outline, solid construction and unique smells had grown on him over his relatively brief stays and his childhood on the road gave him very little to compare it with.

He had also developed a growing fondness for the soldiers themselves. They were largely poor, young, practical types that were a long way from home and with an uncertain future, much like himself. They also tended to appreciate the sort of things he did, like good food, a comfortable bed and a general dislike of drama.

Oh, there were some among them that disliked him, that was inevitable, and some that might have even been intimidated by his presence. But overall he found himself worrying less about his safety, or his things, while he was within the fortifications walls.

The act of coming back in itself had been a welcome ritual. He had been sleeping close to twelve hours a day, and his gambeson had nearly grown into his sweat soaked fur over the course of the recent expedition. So the chance to groom and clean himself had been a real pleasure. His fur was even starting to resume its natural state after bearing the impressions from his armor and pack straps for so long. He certainly smelled a lot better as well, not that the garrison seemed to notice or really care.

With all that sleeping came the nightmares, along with the small aches, pinches and jolts that he had come to associate with his body healing from the extreme exertion. He had lost weight, but was not putting it back on slowly but surely. These were the "normal" sleep disturbances that would bother anybody, and he was not terribly concerned. They had always gone away eventually by themselves.

But now weeks later, recovering both mentally and physically, and with more energy to contemplate his future, he found himself wondering about a great many things. He knew that staying away from the city had been the right choice for him, it would have been going from one dangerous and exhausting place to another, but for entirely different reasons.

He had been letting his imagine play over all of this, and his ideas for his helmet, which had become a temporary obsession after their last fated battle when the comment about their meal had been made. A comment that had shocked him back to reality, and caused him to messily spit his mouthful onto the floor and table.

What had seemed so routine before was now horrifying, like biting into a crisp apple to find the inside completely infested with worms. He grimaced and spat and washed his mouth our with beer before he looked up from his attempt to cleanse his pallet to find Captain Brashear staring at him.

Embarrassed, and yet still disgusted, Magnus felt dozens of eyes on him as he tried to compose himself in order to follow the Captain out of the room.

As he walked, a clear and sober thought occurred to him. You can act like them, you can be fond of them, but try as you might to forget. You are not them and will never be them. You are different. You are inhuman. Something other.

As he closed the door to the Captains chamber behind him, Magnus was reminded that he had only ever met two of his kind in his entire life. His mother, and his father. And his father had been forced to risk injury, death or enslavement to find and subsequently rescue her. Otherwise, Magnus himself would never have been.

"It was beef sir...I, I didn't know it was beef." He explained, as if the problem was in itself was evident. His voice, normally a rich rolling baritone, had risen an octave as he tried to justify his display to the superior officer. It was not even his superior officer, but the command presence was a palpable thing.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:46, Thu 19 Mar 2020.

Magnus walks towards the Captain's office, his mind whirring with dejection, his stomach rumbling despite his hunger having been cut with a sickened, guilty feeling.

Brashear sits at his desk, one side cluttered with a stack of papers and notes, the other side relatively clean but for a half-loaf of the wayfarer bread.  Possibly his only supper now.

That didn't make Magnus feel any better.

"Close the door for me will you?"  Brashear asks as Magnus walks through, the human turning around behind his desk to grab something off a shelf.  Magnus does as he is asked, though he is already working to explain the situation.

As he turns back around towards the captain, he is somewhat surprised to find the other laughing, a decanter of rich amber liquid and a pair of glasses in his hand.

Brashear waves off Magnus's explanation, putting the drinks down on his desk as he sits.  "Grab a chair."  He offers as he gestures towards one of the seats at the far side of the desk, grabbing the loaf of bread and tossing it toward Magnus.

"Actually, it's probably for me to apologize."  Brashear starts, taking the stopper off of his decanter and pouring a glass.  "I couldn't really make it down there tonight.  Just didn't have enough to keep a happy face on.  You gave me a nice excuse.  Figured I might have saved you a little embarrassment too and if I didn't, I figured I could make it up to you with a glass of rye..."  Brashear tips back the bottle as he looks up at Magnus, leaving the moment open for Magnus to accept or decline...

"Cheers."  Brashear says after everything is settled, lifting his own glass to the Minotaur, before taking a drink.  "It's been a pleasure having you here.  You're introspective, humble... I could use a little more of that in some of my officers...  It'll be a shame to see you go."

OOC:  I made a math goof on my intro post.  It's actually the first of July, and the previous post has been edited.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 02:11, Fri 20 Mar 2020.

Magnus's demeanor relaxed as he saw the glasses, and he broke into a faint smile as his heart rate started to return to normal. He took the seat with a grace that belied his size, as he still felt light as a feather outside the weight of his armor, and accepted the bread casually.

The drink, well, Magnus was not a drinker, so he shook his head and made something of a grimace. This was two fold, one, he had never developed a taste for the stuff. Money had been tight growing up, so his father never really drank. That and he knew full well that his temper could get him into trouble. There was practically no danger here with the Captain, but by force of habit he stayed away from drink, especially the hard stuff. It was better for his coin purse, and in the long run, better for everybody.

Which left the praise, and while Magnus did not exactly blush, he was humble, and unused to such things. He shrugged and looked to the floor, and licked his lips with his huge tongue before he spoke. "I...uh" he paused to choose his words while he clasped his hands together in front of himself.

"Likewise sir. Really" he chuckled. "I've been all over northern Megalos, slept in a lot of different places, and this is one of the few that I've really looked forward to coming back to." he sat back in his chair. "I know I'm not part of the Legion, not under your command, but you and the guys have treated me really well..." he laughed and shook his head. "Especially, well, considering..." he trailed off again.

"I really appreciate it, and I'll let the Guild know you and your have treated me really well when I get back to an Officer." It was not much, but the Armsmans Guild and the military had always enjoyed fairly cordial relations.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:49, Fri 20 Mar 2020.

Brashear laughs genuinely as Magnus cannot seem to say what is readily apparent.  His smile is easy though, and there seems no ill meaning.  "I've found more than once in my career that first appearances are bullshit.  No need to thank me, I'm just doing my job..."

A knock on the door interrupts the Captain's thought.

"Come in."  Brashear responds, and the door opens to the sight of First Sergeant Spratt, who looks around the room, noticing Magnus, before letting himself in.  Magnus has never spent much time around the sergeant, even less perhaps than the captain, the soldiers talked about him as a sort of spirit that flittered around, everywhere and no where, materializing only when someone was out of regulation or was complaining about watch.  Being this close for the first time, Magnus can't help but be impressed by his stern self control, and his flawless features.  Though most of the men have short cropped beards, Spratt's face is closely shaved, without even a hint of shadow though the hour is late.

"Everything all right?"  Spratt asks.  "Kendrick said you were hopping pissed."

"Ha!"  Brashear laughs, smiling again as he takes another pull on his drink.  "Nah, I'm just hiding."  He gestures at the bottle on his desk though Spratt shakes him off.

"Anything back from command?"

"Yeah."  Brashear's face falls immediately and he goes again for his glass, which is by now almost empty.  "They're ignoring us...  or worse.  Seems we'll have to deal with a skeleton crew for a while longer...  No replacement for Dorian and they said to expect manning shortfalls at the company levels until recruiting and sustainment efforts.... blah blah blah...  They seem to think that promoting me will shut me up."

Spratt's eyebrow quirks, leaving a silent moment before responding.  "Major?  Congratulations sir!"

"Please don't Colton."  Brashear cuts off the sergeant, putting his hand up palm outward.  "You know what this is.  I just wish they could see what they are doing...  That the fort..."

Though Brashear is interrupted again by a knock at the door.  "Sir!"  Magnus recognizes the voice as Giles's though it is somewhat muffled by the closed door.  "We have a visitor."

"Yeah!"  Brashear answers.  "Come on in."  Then, somewhat under his breath adds.  "I guess this is a fucking party."

This thread joins Chapter 18:  A Neighbor Comes Calling

OOC:  Feel free to respond here if you wish to the stuff early in the post.  You'll be joining Giles though in his thread as soon as I catch him up to this point.  Give me a bit to align everything up.

Magnus fell into easy conversation, and the bread helped to wipe the taste and texture from his mouth as he endeavored to not think too hard about what had just happened over in mess.

He turned in his seat as Sergeant Spratt came in, and nodded to the man before the news of Brashear's promotion brought a broad grin to the Minotaurs face. Despite the Captains objections, Magnus felt that it could only be good in the long run for the man's career and family.

The voice of Giles was Abit of a throwback as well, and Magnus turned even further around in his seat to see what was going on before he eventually stood, seeming to sense that something interesting was occuring.