Tales from a Fifth Captain }{ (Open)

[helvet]

Peace was currently upon Tamasha. Not a sign of war in sight. No threat of attack, no urge to conquer the remaining across the sea the hills and far away. Although the village itself is buzzing with things to do, people to meet, deals to be made, bargains to be bartered and traded for gold coins. The Tamasha knights where on leave, leaving the Royal Auxiliary Legions to be the only ones to defend. The Fifth was currently on break. When they where, they'd go to a tavern known as "The Sunk'n Tamasha". Legionnaires sharing war stories over a pint of ale which the store hands out discounts. Instead of two gold pieces, for a member of the Fifth, it costs one gold piece. The reason for this is because of their fame in the city.

A year ago, when the Emperor sent out his armies to conquer a piece of land he considered valuable with resources, the only unit still available in Tamasha was the Fifth RA Legion. The village was under attack at the time by barbarians. The 5th RA Legion was rallied quickly outside the walls, sent to face an army of one hundred thousand (Slightly exaggerated number). The 5th RA Legion was out numbered with only ten thousand troops at the emperor's current disposal with no reinforcements. Lead under the command of a half elf/half human, Captain Segios Armadeus, they won, suffering the smallest amount of casualties, out of all the battles Tamasha has been in and Segios was given a Medal for his leadership during the battle for Tamasha.

"Why, ain't it my favourite Captain Armadeus!" The bar tender exclaimed cheerfully, as Segios entered the Tavern, "Captain Armadeus! Tamashan hero! Here, have a pint of ale. Or Beer, mayhap?"

"Ale with do just nicely, good friend," Armadeus said as he sat himself on a stool. He over heard some of his men bragging and boasting drunkly over the battle one year ago. He turned and obnoxiously said, "Hey, look, if it weren't for the most clever Captain in the world, this city would be doomed. The only problem is you guys didn't bother looking impressed, rather you just talked in the Hall of Heroes about women, not a bad subject though, but I should've been the subject. I see you've got a new haircut. I don't like it."

The drunk soldiers grinned and laughed, one pointing at one's hair he got when he was at a near by village. "What are you wearing, Captain?" one of the drunk soldiers bursted out, laughing, hastily.

"It's a fuzzy hat. It's cool. See look it's got a tail. You can't beat that," Armadeus said, holding the tail up.

"Looks like a skunk's sleeping on your head," The soldier said, walking up to Armadeus.

Armadeus grinned as he pulled a string that lifted the tail up, and out squirted some water at the drunk. "Ah! What the hell?!" He cried, thinking it's a real squirrel. The other legion members burst out, laughing and crying at the same time.

"In genius, Captian," The Bartender wiped his eyes from tears of laughter, as he handed Armadeus an ale. Armadeus took small sips ever several dozen seconds, keeping to himself, most of the time.

[Lujayn]

Descus D'Neherré, also known as the assassin Black Bird, also known as "that infuriating jack a--", wasn't in a particularly pleasant mood. He had had a series of infuriating failures and setbacks, for one thing. Not that he had never suffered failure before; it just hadn't ever been in this multitude. Probably his old age... an age he had been doing his damndest to not reach, taking all sorts of risks, hoping to die, but fate it seemed wanted him to suffer a little longer yet. It hadn't helped that in one of the failures, he had met that young woman, a necromancer he had learned later, who had so achingly born a resemblance to his late wife that the terrible dreams, that started with the bliss of life with her and ended in the horror of her death, had begun again, and so sleep oft alluded him.

Originally he had come to Tamasha to find some more hirelings for the little mercenary army that he had- sometimes it was nice to pretend he was a soldier again- but had instead ducked into the first tavern he came across and ordered a drink. So here he was, in a dim corner of the room with his back against the wall, sipping some nameless hard liquor (for once breaking the vow not to touch the stuff he made so many years ago after a very unpleasant adventure that came about from drinking too much of it), ignoring those around him.

It was obvious by his appearance that he was mercenary. He bore no insignia of any army, and yet he was armoured and armed much like any soldier was. Plain but fine crafted leather and chainmail armour, beautifully crafted but functional in appearance and use weapons, with many more hidden in the various pockets and folds of his person; the most obvious being the short sword at his hip, the five visible daggers on his belt, and the crossbow normally hung off his back but currently resting by his feet.

Most knew better than to mess with the tall, dark, imposing figure that he was, but more than once soldiers- feeling superior to mercenaries- had hassled him in the past, sometimes being easily bought out by drink, other times having to be driven off with brute force, so he was wary.

He hadn't even remotely begun to feel any of the pleasant effects of drink when Captain Armadeus walked in. He had heard of this man, and had seen him once or twice, if briefly, and didn't have much of an opinion of him. Where he came from, men of station in the army were quiet, dignified, doing their jobs and accepting their reward with calm stoicism. Armadeus, however...

Descus watched his antics with disapproval, giving a derisive snort and muttering something presumably unpleasant under his breath in his native tongue. It did not go unmissed, sadly for him, and he soon had a soldier standing by his table, looking quite ready to pick a fight in the drunken state he was in.

He looked up, eyebrows raised as he took another swallow of his drink, then smiled pleasantly. "Is there something I can do for you, good lad?" He asked pleasantly in accented, if spoken well, English.

"You should show some respect to the capt'n!" the soldier said belligerently. "He's a hero, he is!"

"Mm, that he may be, and I have heard the story, but, not being from this city- or this entire continent, truth be told- that doesn't really impress me all that much," Descus said lightly. "Nor does his rank. I'm a Captain, too."

"A mercenary captain!" the soldier sneered.

"For now, yes. Was a higher ranking officer in the army back in my country, too, as long ago as that was. But, really, this all doesn't matter much to an old man such as myself... I just want a drink and then to be on my merry way..."

"Apologise for whatever remark you made, and be happy I don't beat you about for it on your way out!"

Descus sighed, putting down his drink and standing slowly to his full 6'5" height. The soldier paled slightly, realising exactly what kind of opponent he had picked a fight with at last, but stood his ground. Brave, thought Descus, but not particularly bright/i]

"Here's a better plan. Take this coin-" it appeared between his fingers" -and buy yourself another drink. I'd prefer not to fight, if it pleases you."

Belligerent and stupid to the end, the soldier stood his ground. "I don't think so! I think you should-"

He was unable to finish his sentence, as Descus, in a blur of movement, gave him a very solid punch to the gut, winding the soldier, followed by a swift uppercut to the jaw, sending him sprawling backwards to land unconsciously on the floor.

Descus looked down at the unconscious soldier for a moment, before lifting his gaze to the Armadeus. "Your soldiers need some disciplining, I would think," he said pleasantly. "It really isn't very nice of them to hassle old mercenary captains who just want a drink before they tuck themselves into bed for an early night." His tone was dry, and no one looking at him would believe him to be the sort of frail old man that he was describing himself as.

[helvet]

Armadeus received a drink. A pint of mead too which he drank from, every so often. Behind him he heard an argument between one of his men and another person. His men, telling the tales of war stories that proved Captain Armadeus' fame and fortune as the 5th Auxiliary Captain. The bloke mentioned he too was a captain, yet brought a sneer with mercenary too the argument. He thought to himself, 'In someways we're mercenaries, as well. Taken by our families and paid as storm troops for Tamasha's battle. The first ones in and the last ones out, they'd say'. He took several more sips from his drink of mead. He then heard the man boast of his rank back home and soon the short fight between the man and one of his soldiers.

Soon, the man came up with an insult towards his men and the discipline of his men. Most of his men are what they call barbarians. Actually, all of them are and in terms Barbarians are never entirely disciplined, especially after a few beers.

He turned around, his pint of mead in his right hand, not taking notice of his friend on the ground who will come too in about six to seven hours. He looked at the towering man and said, "Well, I did tell the Emperor 'that's what you get for taking a bunch of barbarians from their village since 16 to 18 and place them in your army. His army looks bad with us, but because of the five Auxiliary Legions, Tamasha has never lost a battle. Since my race, I've got a good few more years before I'm at least able to leave. But they don't want me to, especially what happened sometime ago when our village was attacked and we where the only ones to defend. After all. We're barbarians fighting for a freedom. Am I right, lads?!"

"We here you, Captain!" A man said, lifting a glass of ale over his head in a cheers.

"Hey, Captain! Remember the battle last year? What a victory that was. Here's too the honourable Captain Armadeus!" Another said.

He looked at the man and thought to himself, 'Yea... Only 900 of our men out of the 10000 that was in the legion at the time. What do we have now? 9500 since the fresh fish came last month? And with those who took their freedom papers, I guess, we've got at most 9200 or less. "Here, have a drink on me, for the troubles. And sit and let's talk, Captain to Captain." He said, "What'd you like? Beer, Mead? Lager?"

[Lujayn]

Descus waved the offer of a drink away. "I appreciate the offer, but this-" he raised his glass briefly- "is enough for me for now." He was silent for a moment, savouring a sip of the liquer. "Would you be willing to hear some advice, from one Captain to another?"

He didn't really wait for an answer. "A good Captain recognises that he is nothing without his men. He is important, yes, but he is not the end-all-be-all. While you may have led the battles that you are so praised for, you would not have succeeded without the cooperation of the men that serve you. They do not seem to recognise that, and that is dangerous." Descus swirled the drink in the cup, his eyes watching the miniature currents in the dark amber liquid. "With mercenaries, it does not matter. They have nothing to fight for, except for money. If a great leader is killed, the only ones who are really affected are the ones who hired them the most. The men? They just move on. Soldiers, however... do not have that luxury. They need to believe what they fight for, not just who they're fighting with." He looked up at Armadeus. "Will your men still fight so hard if you were to meet your end?"

He took a proper swallow of his drink then, and chuckled. "Ah, listen to me... an old man rambling on and on. I really shouldn't be drinking, I told myself I wouldn't after... well, after 'that'. But here I am." He smiled, a surprisingly pleasant sort of a smile, coming from someone with such an occupation as he was. "I suppose that's why I'm a mercenary. No discipline at all, despite my preaching to you, hm? That warrants me getting a drink for you, I think? Especially since I rather coarsely beat up one of your men; that was very rude of me." He gave a slight seated bow. “Avail yourself of my coin, for I have a lot of it. More than enough for my original purpose for coming here, before I got sidetracked...”

The man was all over the place. Whether it was because he was old and loopy, or drunk, or it was part of his personality, or a combination of the three, he kept jumping from topic to topic. In truth he was merely trying to think of certain things, and rambling helped to keep his mind off of it.

Descus grinned rakishly. “I’ve noticed, Tamasha here seems to have a very good method of bringing in old men like me. That is, hiring some very attractive bar maids... much like yourself, love, hey?” This last bit was directed to one of aforementioned maids, who blushed and hurried away. “Ah... I’m a terrible man.” He chuckled.Oh god what is this that I'm writing dammit Descus can you not stay serious for two seconds?! -

[Jules]

Damp rain had turned to frost in the coming of winter's breath. Relenting to its pressures, Seamus had at last chosen to save his feet the burden, and wore the boots so often left hanging by his back. He felt a sense of nervous dread he approached the portentous gates of Tamasha Village. Its construction of old, ageing oak had darkened with the years, but never enough to rot away, and as always it was matched by huge lumbering doors that creaked with every contraction. The wind here was often known to stir at its timbers and make it howl. Across the plains, the song grew greater and greater, until Finn stood before its might.

Weathered souls, the gatekeepers of Tamasha were an unmoving presence against both element and man. Their work allowed for a thicker grade of cloak, and a bulkier uniform in general, leaving them faceless, but solid. A large portion of this centred around leather covering coarser, tightly bound fabrics, though never enough to disguise the miasma of fat rubbed into warm skin. When a gale tugged at their seams, the men would grow on the landscape like spirits, moving only when their stretch was swapped by another.

With the eyes of several sentries upon him, he hastened his stride, but knew that the time he had here was already being checked and accounted for. He wove though the towering streets and their slivers of light, more similar to the forest than any yet realised, but almost immovable with people. The mud was thick at his feet, churned into a bog by every passing trade, but once he was amongst the familiar district, it was clear that a regular host of footprints lead the way to his family's tavern. Relief at the sight of the inn made all uneasiness pass, and he began to think back of the more tolerable memories.

Bowing his head below the frame, it took only a few steps for the shock of a room packed with military men to make his skin shrink with anxiety. He stood in the doorway, dumbfounded before the revellers, who did not seem to take his presence with much regard. Looking to the counter, he spotted his sister stirring an iron pan in their kitchen, half hidden by an open curtain that did not disguise him when a few seconds later, she turned towards it laden with plates. He assumed that she had been cheerful only moments ago; it was clear her cheeks still flushed rose pink while her eyes made sense of this dishevelled ghost, turning pale herself. She did not wish to speak with him. Finn nodded to himself compliantly. He resolved he would not stay here long; only enough to warm his body through by the fire.

[helvet]

Armadeus listened to the mercenary captain's every word. He looked at the man as he spoke, and mentioned everything about the mercenary's compared to the soldiers. He looked up the Mercenary Captain as he spoke, making such ignorant allegations. He waited, patiently for the Captain to end his rant about the mercenaries to the soldiers and his own personal discipline.

He began to speak, himself, "Many people, even myself never asked to be apart of this Army. I came here, hundred years ago. Hundred years before I came in to this world, my village was taken over. Due to the fighting spirit of my ancestors, their courage, bravery, they where given one last chance before becoming extinct. Now, every so often, when a child reaches of age, we'd be forced into an army not of our own to serve for a certain number of years. Due to my race as a half-elf, I have to wait longer than a normal human, seeing my way through several dynasties and regimes."

"The Auxiliary is forced mercenaries. The only things that drive us is money and freedom. Next year is my last time as an Auxiliary Captain, although, according to the current ruler, I have the opportunity to continue in the regular force. Although, I'm done killing for a who cares not of the auxiliary. That's what we are to him. That's what we ever shall be. While we fight, the main army would sit on their fat arses, eating and watching Arena games. We get killed, and easily replaced by recruits. Sixteen, seventeen and eighteen year olds are taken, given armor, shields and swords. Ask any soldier from the Fifth Royal Auxiliary Legion how long they've been or how old they where. They'll tell you, it's been over ten years since they've seen their families."

"The thing is... Everyone here. Everyone here is a barbarian. I'll show you, at that... Deracias Erigiosa, where are you from?" [Pronounced: Deh-rah-chi-us Eh-ri-ghi-os-uh]

"The forests... Deep in the forests in a village, we called Segestos," [S-eh-geh-stos-] Deracias replied, "Beautiful place. We where up on a hill and had the best view in all the land. Been so long since I've seen it,"

"What about you, Ariggaemas [Ah-righ-hay-mas]?" Armadeus

"On the plains, where we'd hunt and fight in warbands, surrounding our enemies," Ariggaemas replied.

"These men long for freedom. Captain... I long for freedom and I can't get it just by getting up and leaving. If I did, they'd hunt me down like a dog," Armadeus said, as he got up to leave, "And freedom for me is a years a way," He said again.

He buckled his sword to his waist and a rounded shield, he lifted into his arm. He turned to the Mercenary Captain and said, "Later, Captain," as he left. As he left, he bumped into a woman. "Oh, sorry." He left for the gates with Ariggaemas and Deracias to relieve the people at the gate.

[iizak]

IIzak sat at a table near the fireplace by the end of the room, watching the altercation with interest as he fiddled with a deck of cards, expertly manipulating the deck in complex cuts and shuffles. That old man's uppercut was splendid IIzak though to himself, watching the smaller man go tumbling to the floor. As the two captain's began to argue over philosophy, IIzak leaned in, straining his ears to catch every word.

The old man has a point IIzak thought, But the younger Barbarian was clearly a better leader than he put out. He not only inspired courage and trust in his men, But made sure they remembered what they were fighting for, and where they had come from

As the door to the Inn opened. IIzak glanced briefly at the Stranger standing in the doorway. He'd never seen him about before, not that he'd been in the city long, but he thought he knew just about all of the regulars to this place. Seeing the man's bare feet, he shuddered Poor guy must be freezing

"Ho there, traveler, I know not your name, but would you come sit with me and warm yourself? I find myself in need of company as I dine, care to join me?" he called out to the man