Hearing the comment from Hawendona and the comments he moves two paces across to stand next to his cousin and whispers "Defending the empire. I nearly died fighting Sartraties recently, thankfully my old trust helm that belonged to Zennor protected me. The enemy blade ran down the helm cutting into my next and chest, leaving me with another distinctive scar. Thankfully the shadow of death did not consume me this day, as I believe the Seven Mothers protected me as I battle for the empire."

Zyxx considers the name that Coroltha gave. The "The Crimson Avocet Company," well it is better the "Red Storks", and "Crimson" is good. He also thinks I can see how the commander got confussed with the colour (red and crimson) and long legged birds. He thinks to himself no point in saying anything as all that will be bring is problems, but it is most odd that the Commander got the name wrong.

Continuing his whisper "The scribe seems like a nice guy, and like him I was not impressed with name storks either. I also hope we can learn more about this task ahead of us soon too."

Hawendona looks worried, though her whispered reply to Zyxx sounds light hearted "Defened it more cautiously, if you please. Arms and legs I can sick back on again. Heads are more problematic" She smooths the hoplite's helmet plume in lieu of his inaccessible hair.

She takes another look at Amilcar. "A man of strong feelings, it seems. One or two of Hyjembora's scribal colleagues could also reach such a pitch on their pet subjects... We just met."

She indicates one of the buildings of the Lunar garrison complex with a fluid movement of her hand. "You may not have long to wait. I anticipate his lordship Envoranus, Prince of the Kandoor family, bearer of the Silver Robes' arrival most imminently"

”Avocet?  Avocet?  Well that’s an entirely different, magnificent- dare I say beautiful- thing.  More a crane than a Stork,” Amilcar wrinkled his nose at the mention of the word stork, emphasizing the “t” with disgust.

”An Avocet is a heroes representation in animal form. You should have said so from the beginning Corolotha. What a splendid name. What a splendid idea.  I am inspired.” Right on cue the hand shot forth, waving in front of him as if some representation of the air, “The Capital Crimson Stor-“ Amilcar caught and corrected himself, “Avocet Company of Champions!“ his hand had come to a closed fist at the end, and he brought it towards his breast in a motion indicating victory.

”Avocet” he whispered again, as if this would bring the point home.

He composed himself quickly, fixing his quill in his hand, and returning it to the papyrus.



Amilcar jumped a bit as he recoiled from the scraggly old woman that approached, looking down his nose at her while adjusting the wrap of his scarf.

He glanced at Corolotha, his eyes searching for validation that the woman was indeed to sign up for duty.

Finally, exasperated, he said breathily, ”Alright.  Is it simply Keak then?  Or is it Keak-Keak?  Or is it all three?  Keak-keak-keak?”

He gave a half hearted version of his dramatic wave ”Perhaps, Keak the Sneak or some such.”

Amilcar made a little frown and tilted his head to the side in contemplation.

”Actually...that’s not bad. Yadadamean?” the last was a “do-you-know-what-I-mean” put together in a way that may have been meant to mimic the woman’s accent. It was nowhere close.  And a little too loud perhaps.

Waiting patiently at the back of the queue Daranmon watched the proceedings with an expression that defined neutrality, if you could define neutrality in an expression - he was giving nothing away, in other words. When his turn came he stepped up to the table.

"Daranmon. Soldier. Lately served with Zyxx and The Aggabortas, and ordered to report here with them."

Amilcar, nodded approvingly at the soldier.  ”Daranmon.  Good strong name. Daranmon the Daring, perhaps, or no- the dominant.” the scribe puffed out his bird-like chest a bit, before letting it deflate to its previous, unimpressive girth.

He gave a slight shrug, “I suppose we will see.”

The scribe scribbled the name down in script:

Daranmon

”Welcome.  Hawendona has colors for you. Thank you for your service.”

Amilcar looked around for the next solicitor.

In reply to Amilcar (msg # 23):

Coroltha slips behind Amilcar. As deliberate and passive as she has been, she moves with shocking swiftness, placing two powerful hands on your shoulders and holding you down in your chair.
"Yes, we are now The Crimson Avocet Company.
Not the red storks.
And not a play on his lordship's name that he is unlikely to find amusing.
I suggest you get the critiquing of his lordship's decisions out of your system immediately.
If the prince has me crucify you then I shall have to find another scribe.
And you don't want to make me go find another scribe, do you, Amilcar?"

Amilcar looked as if he were sincerely considering the possibility.

Then he seemed to realize the question was rhetorical, and responded quickly, ”Oh- no.  No, of course not.  Employment is terribly scarce these days.” He frowned and shook his head to the negative.

In reply to Amilcar (msg # 27):

"Good," she says, giving your shoulders a squeeze that doesn't quite reach bone crushing levels, but is not comfortable.

"Now sign in these Praxians, they are not on the list and do not need a focale.
And this scout here."

In reply to Coroltha (msg # 28):

Wincing a bit and shrugging his way out of Corolotha’s grip sheepishly, he seemed to rise to his full stature once more.

”You heard the Woman!  Step forth and announce yourselves!”

He nodded at Corolotha, giving her a reassuring nod, as if everything was under control now.

In reply to Amilcar (msg # 29):

The crone howls with laughter, she looks at the braves “See that little ones, the big woman was going to hurt the scribe-man. Keak…keak…keak.  Lucky for him, she changed her mind.”  She affixes her good eye on the scribe. “You may call me Wanakela Five-Deaths, shaman of the Scarlet Horn clan.” Wanakela points at the braves. “This one is ‘Silent Trotting’ and the other is ‘He-who-looks-for-Water,’ and there are more where they came from, if you know what I mean. Keak…keak…keak”  With that she gives Amilcar a wink with her good eye.

Zyxx looks over to Daranmon and moves his head like a twist & a nod to indicate that the towering giant of a man could stand next to his ex-unit comrades.

Zyxx continues to stand in 'at-ease' miltary stance waiting. His eyes keep scanning to area. When he see that the Wanakela make eye contact with him all he does is provide her a long blink to show her respect without moving from his military posture.

He continues to wait.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:03, Mon 07 June 2021.

Amilcar jumped again at the old woman’s laugh, and looked uncomfortable at the mention of her “changing her mind.”  He rearranged the scarf at his neck repeatedly, a few beads of sweat gathering on his brow.

”Erm, yes, lucky indeed.  That’s how I got here.” the young scribe muttered, under his breath.



At the mention of the woman’s name, some of Amilcar’s trepidation seemed to lift, his mind engaged by the titles the old woman put forward, ”Waan-ick-KAY-luh...” he wrote the name down as it sounded and showed it to the old woman, ”Does this look right?”

Wanakela Five-Deaths, Shaman of the Scarlet Horn

The scholar found the ancient crone’s eye for the first time with his own, ”Five-Deaths.  Fantastic name.  It sounds like there is a story there.  Perhaps I can record it- for posterity’s sake, of course. It could help people understand that savages are people too.” The scribe continued, oblivious to how offensive his off hand statement was, or the fact that it illustrated that he, perhaps, held the same prejudice,  ”Would you like me to include the ‘Shaman of the Scarlet Horn clan’ bit?  I can. I, personally, love it. Along with the five deaths part it really speaks to the imagination” the fingers on the scribes golden hand gave a flourish meant to somehow symbolize “imagination.”

Amilcar wrote down the next name,

Silent Trodding

The scholars eyebrows knit, ”I assume this gentleman is the stealthy type. Perhaps his name ought be Keak the Sneak,” he gave the old woman a sly smile, then went back to putting his pen to papyrus, trying to sound official, “But for the moment this shall suffice.”

He moved on to the next name, jotting it down as well,

He-who-looks-for-water

”A unique name, this one.” Amilcar looked up, but somehow seemed to back away from the Praxians.

”I trust we shall not go thirsty upon this trek then, and I, for one, am relieved for that small assurance.”

Still, his eyes seemed to seek assurance from Wanakela in the form of conformation that the party would not go thirsty.

The Aggabortas nods.  "Built by the Conquering Daughter," he says with a hint of pride.



The Holayan gives a short laugh.  "Yeah, and it's like those plays, where the soldier talks to their comrades about their loved one or family, and you know they won't survive the final act!"



He cocks his head and regards the scribe speculatively.  Leaning closer to Hawendona, he quietly but tightly asks, "Is this man some barbarian slave, invoking the name of one of their gods instead of Irripi Ontor...?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:25, Mon 07 June 2021.

Hawendona stares intently at the Aggabortas for a few moments before returning her gaze to Amilcar eyebrows raised. "Perhaps he was drawn to the more unkempt beard?" she whispers. "He was just reassigned from the knowledge temple library, he may have picked up the local slang"

I take it Commander Valash was not best pleased to release three seasoned swords?
This message was last edited by the player at 11:06, Mon 07 June 2021.

In a soft whisper like a guard of sentry duty at night Zyxx says to The Aggabortas "That is true, but for me it is the fact too many story teller soldier often have big a families with far too many stories for me to enjoy over my bottle wine. Then they expect me to remember it all as if I cared the next night when they tell me more boast full stories. I now have a one family story a night limit, for most. Great tales are told by bards & scholars, so let hope that our scribe knows that the sword is mightier than the quill, and survives this outing to write up our tales of honour & glory."

Zyxx scans again and see little is happening and this time whispers gently to his cousin Hawendona "The unit under Commander Valash was developing well as it had a good number of veterans and probably half of them were recovering from their Sartar wounds. I guess he was not please too, hence the quip about red storks !" 

Zyxx continues to stand in 'at-ease' miltary stance waiting, with his eyes scanning the area.

The young scout stepped forward, offering a nod. "I am Astorl." He simply listens, gathering what information he can if he was to scout ahead before any battles.

As the scribe gibbered away Daranmon stared at him, unblinking. His sign-in done he turned and walked over to join Zyxx and The Aggabortas once again.

"A bunch of green recruits, some past-it vets, a wet-behind-the-ears scribe, a couple of women you wouldn't look at twice, and a few mad locals for flavour.

Tell me - did someone organise a festival I didn't know about, for a god of whom I've never heard? I certainly hope that's the case, otherwise this might be shortest mission in the history of the Lunar Empire."

As each of you receive your colors, Coroltha looks you in the eye, pats you on the shoulders, and repeats your name. You have the sense she is committing each of you to memory.

As the last members of the queue are signed in, she looks at the papers and frowns.


Presently, a young man emerges from the palace. He is adorned in a splendid silver breastplate, greaves, and vambraces, all carved in swirling patterns with tremendous skill. He has a silver helmet with enormous black and red feathers under his arm. He wears a long white riding cape.
Beside him stalks an enormous troll. The troll wears the company focale around her right wrist.

Hawendona knots a focale around Astorl's neck "Keep 'em peeled! bushwhacker" she says with a wink. After a quick look around the courtyard she disentangles the few remaining cloths in the basket and ties them in an organised sheaf.

She straightens up at the arrival of the young man and his escort, taking a deep breath. "We are all us" she mutters

The Aggabortas looks at the scribe again, then says out of his mouth to Hawendona, "Yes, I wondering the same sort of thing.  I'll give him the benefit of the doubt.  For now."



"Well, he didn't say anything outright about these orders from above, but let's just say he didn't seem that enthused about the orders."



"We Are All Us," The Aggabortas intones.  "It'd be good to have at least some nomads on our side."  He notes the appearance of the prince and the troll.  "And a troll too.  I've heard rumblings about the nomad tribes setting differences aside, and trolls in the Big Rubble getting feisty," he finishes, before turning to face the prince, expecting some speech.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:34, Wed 09 June 2021.

Zyxx observes the young man adorned in a splendid silver breastplate, greaves, and vambraces, all carved in swirling patterns and a silver helmet enter the area from the palace. As he walks forward with his long white riding cape flapping behind him. Clearly has all the airs of the prince, therfore Envoranus (senior officer due to birthrights).

Zyxx notes nobody taking control, and moves out in front of his old unit buddies and turns to face them (Daranmon, The Aggabortas ), and the rest of the unit and in a crisp sharp bark of a heavy infantry trooper " "Avocet!      ATTENNNNN-TION!       Officer on Parade ground" .

He then makes he way back into the line with Daranmon and The Aggabortas and turns to face forward standing at attention, he knows the other two will probably follow his lead and stand at attention to show the other green recruits what they need to do. Zyxx stands at attention as the sun continues to beat down on him as he waits for the man to address them.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:40, Wed 09 June 2021.

Wanakela cackles with approval.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:38, Wed 09 June 2021.

Hearing Zyxx's bark, The Aggabortas also stands at attention.  Best to set a good example for the fresh meat.

Althuogh not a drill soldier, Hawendona has seen her share of parades and inspections, and supports her cousin's example to the recruits with a supernumerary's best approximation to standing at attention

Amilcar looked the man up and down, “Welcome to the Crimson Avocet Company.”

The scholar nodded at Corolotha as if to confirm everything would, indeed be fine.

”Perhaps we will call you Astorl the-“ the Golden Scribe paused, rolling his tongue around in his mouth, ”Hmmm. That doesn’t really roll of the tongue does it,” he considered a moment longer then blurted out ”Astorl the OWL!” The dramatic hand flashed forth as the crescendo was reached.

But Amilcar didn’t seem pleased.

He looked down at his papyrus and muttered, ”Perhaps. Perhaps not. We shall see.  Please check that this spelling is correct?  The pronunciation implies a distinct lack of vowels where they would normally be present.”

Amilcar showed the book to Astorl for confirmation.

Astorl



Seeing the Noble Lord approaching, Amilcar gathered the papyrus together as neatly as possible and attempted to imitate, as closely as possible the stance taken by the soldiers.

Then he realized- perhaps the Lord wanted Amilcar to record this historic moment. Panic shot through his body like lightning.

The scholar looked nervously at Corolotha, ”Aught I to put to paper words of this glorious procession?  Or...simply attend?”
This message was last edited by the player at 07:48, Thu 10 June 2021.