Recruit Trainining with Colonel Mord Cabro
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When handed the crossbow, Ezachiel politely returns it, pointing out that he is well-equipped already. He quickly goes to get his staff, which a connoiseur might recognize as being Redwood, and which appears to be almost…alive? He also brings along his own heavy crossbow, as well as some quivers of mean-looking bolts.
During the trip north, he usually hangs back a bit, taking quite accurate pot-shots at the hobgoblins, but when the other recruits appear to be in trouble, he switches to his staff, and puts the smack down on the hobgoblins, accurately striking at the spots where it can be used to best effect (the effect being broken spines and arms, shattered knees, fractured skulls...)
He appears to be quite resilient to punishment, and even though he does not wear any armour, he doesn't appear to be too troubled by the wounds he receives from the attacks he could not dodge.
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Mord nods as he watches Eza working along with the others. He assigns more practice with the crossbow and allows the trainee a melee weapon of choice after working for hours swinging different ones at practice dummies and trainers
In the morning the trainees are once again chivied out of bed before the sun rises and into their armor. They are issued weapons and full packs and head north again as the sun rises. Once at the north gates they are broken into teams of three and with a sargeant overlooking the groups they head north on the road to clear anything menacing on the way to Peltarch. Eza is issued a crossbow and Wren her melee weapons and given short instructions on group fighting, tactics, cover and support. Then all head off
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Even when the group of recruits faces something nasty, it doesn't really appear to faze Ezachiel that much…which is understandable, if some of the things people say about him are correct. Even though he is not allowed to use magic, he does his best to help the others with what meager physical force he has.
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_Returning at dawn, several of the recruits bear a distinctly uneasy look. Wren seems to relax very slightly as the gates slam shut behind them… not by much though.
It seems that the north wall was missing two things... A ) Gates, and B ) guards. Just a gaping, open archway on Sam's Hill, lacking any troops or watchful eye to stop intruders..._
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Mord stands at the gate the next morning as the trainees return. They are subdued and fear runs through some of their eyes. Two stone figures in different attitudes are hauled in by the tired and quiet trainees. Mord looks at them for a moment and his eyes go hard as he stares over the procession. His voice cuts softly through the dawn Sargeant…the trainees to take their companions to the healers then double rations and showers fer the lot. Eight hours rest after they clean their gear. after a short pause I want em on the move by nightfall. Full rounds to the north wall then weapons practice. Sleep over and bring em back at dawn. He turns and moves off
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::Rumor has it the sergeant brings back several statues along with the survivors::
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The trainees gasp for breath as they arrive at the north gates as the sun sets and darkness covers the land. Their respite is short as they are chivied into their armor and sent south with full gear through the darkened town. Hard biscuits and thin ale is haded out then they are broken into small groups with a veteran guard and sent intothe wood for the night Mords words carry over the wall as they straggle out "Bring the live ones back Sargeant". *Then he to dissapears into he dark.
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Even though he is obviously not as strong as the other recruits, Ezachiel appears to posses some dexterity, and he isn't as weak as most people would expect mages to be, being able to keep up with the others, though somewhere between the middle and the rear.
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_Wren maintains a steady pace through the jog, not at the front of the pack and not at the rear… in fact, a careful observer might notice that she was taking pains to remain exactly in the middle of the straggling line of runners.
She seems largely unaffected by the pace except for noticably deeper breathing, a slight flush on exposed skin, and a few rivulets of sweat running down her forehead.
Occassionally she glances over at Eza, as if curious who he is._
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*Mord watches Wren on his rounds as she works her way through the trees. He shakes his head and mutters. * "One day someone will figure it out" *He shrugs and moves on nodding to the Lieutenant keeping an eye on the tainees as they go through their paces.
The next dawn he paces in front of the trainees and stops and stares at Eza a moment in silence. He moves on and speaks quietly to the Lieutenant. Soon he moves off and the Sargeant in charge of the trainees voice rises in a soft snarl that cuts through the morning sounds. Soon the trainees are headed to the broken lands near the croosraods, packs full and short batons in hand. The day is warmer then normal for a change so the pace is set accordingly….a fast mile eating trot.
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After a lengthy absence, Ezachiel has returned to Narfell, and has rejoined the other trainees.
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_sawsawsawsawHACK
Another limb is tossed down to the waiting bucket.
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Dwarves are not the most adept at climbing trees, but with rope and pitons they can manage.
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A rhythm is quickly reached. The saw cuts a guide-groove, and then a single powerful blow from the hatchet severs the branch. This works well on all but the largest of limbs.
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The larger ones, of course, require rather more sawing and less use of the hatchet. Rope is tied to them on two sides, so that when they are cut free they can be lowered slowly to the ground instead of crashing down uncontrolled.
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Wren works steadily, pace unbroken but unhurried, garbed in worn brown leathers and a broad hat to keep off the sun. Her face wears a half-smile that doesn't change with the occasional splinter or torrent of chittering abuse from squirrels.
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Once all the designated trees are cut, she takes the bucket and bundle of limbs, and packs them into the town. The branches go into the woodpile for evening fires. The bucket of sawdust goes to the Boarshead for the floors. The tools are taken to the craft hall, and carefully resharpened before being turned back in._
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*Mord nods absently to the Chancelor then looks at Wren thoughfully. He talks quietly to the Lietenant in charge of the trainees for this day. He gets a blank stare for a moment then a sharp nod and salute. At dawn Wren can be seen heading ut the south gate with a bucket a rope a saw and hatchet. Mord can be seen moving along the ridgeline of the defenses pointing to certain trees. The words "clear field of fire" can be heard as he moves off. The Lieutenant barks the words int he recruits ears "aye recruit, twelve feet up, trim all the limbs back that far, Ye gots yer tools".
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The chancellor can sometimes be seen watching wren's training from a distance, observing Mord's reactions to the dwarf and taking note of how well she takes to the rigors of Norwick Boot Cap. He seems pleased with her progress, often giving a nod of approval to Mord before moving along.
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_Wren can frequently be seen being put through the paces by the militia, the studiously blank look of someone used to the millitary life on her face. The most common phrases out of her at these times seem to be 'Yessir,' 'Nosir,' and 'As you say, sir.'
The training is quite rigorous and her red-and-silver armor is frequently spattered with mud and blood by the time she returns. She seems able to keep up, though… like most dwarves, she's hardy and in disgustingly good health.
The training gives way at times to active duty... arresting a mage, fighting off goblin attacks, rescuing citizens from the woods, and helping to quell eruptions from the portal stones._
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The Dwarven Lass stands head and shoulders below the other recruits but she is at muster and accepts the trainning baton from Mord Mord walks back in forth in front of the recruits silently then flicks his eyes toward the Lieutenenant and barks out: Yers Lieutenant, ye have the orders. I want ta see em in the field in 4 days, as a unit. I want most back alive. He runs a cold eye over the recruits one more time and strides North as orders are shouted behind him.
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Mord breathes in the early morning mist, coughing slightly at the thickness of it. He stands near the hardpacked ground and snds the recruits north on a morning jog, in full kit and armor. He sets the shovel and pick next to the spot picked out by the Commander and jogs off after the recruits smilling crookedly as he gets ready to pass out the duty when they arrive back
The recruit sweats heavily and wipes the back of his brow, leaving a trail of dirt behind. He straightens his sore back and catches a glimpse of Mord heading his way and bends once more to the task at hand, arms leaden and shoulders burning.
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Though not loud Mord's voice cuts through the evening air One more turn around the walls lads and the last one to the barracks will dig the new latreen tomorrow….as well as the normal trainin..NOW MOVE!!
He turns and heads to the barracks smilling thinly as he passes the gasping Eza in his sweaty leathers.
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Intown training has begun again and mixed among the recruits is a familiar but odd face. Eza is handed a batton at sunrise of the day and he is sent in to do warmups as the new recruits get ready for the day. Empty packs are loaded on the recruits and as the sun crests the trees they are sent hustling off to the stone pits to the north. Senior member are sent along to harry the recruits with a special amount of loving care given to the mage in their midst.
Mords words can be heard over the clatter of feet "Rocks by noon as High as I am tall by the south perimeter". Then he strides off.
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Mord starts tagging recruits and trainees and pulling them over to the broken lands west of camp. He hands out blunted arrows to the archers and padded clubs to the rest. Standing in front of the group he outlines the excersise. Ye most like have hard of the push ta get our town back. Well, fightin in a town be a bit different then the open field of battle. Small strike tems supported by short distance fire is the best ye can do. Once insde a city, it be a maze no matter how well ye might know it.
He glares at the bunch of them Ye have a unit, ye get lost from yer unit and ye no longer have a unit just a bunch of meat waitin ta die. Ye have yer arm bands. Red is the town defenders, blue be the attackers. I will be up on the ridgeline. I best see the units workin tagether or ye will hear from me. Blue team yer job be to push em out and break em up. Red ye are ta keep em out er drive em back.
He hands a map to the red team Ye have 15 minutes ta get inta position. Last word, I care not fer a few bruises but If I hear of broken bones ye will be runnin guard duty on the bridge while we push into tha town.
Mord heads up to a high spot as the red team scrambles to its positions. He smiles thinly and notches a blunt arrow to his bow as the blue team breaks up into smaller units and starts to move.
