Alt Much?

Well D3 was a little better:

D3 Goal: 5000

Word Count: 4386

87% of Target.

I hope to get ahead sometime this week-end.  Maybe even before.  It would be nice to be able to play WoW again …

***************

The squad moved through the mess line, joking and swapping tall tales. Camp fare was pretty good considering it was meant to be filling and not necessarily tasty. Burn grabbed a plate which the cooks loaded with biscuits and a small spicy sausage common in the southern provinces. He then joined the rest of the squad around a mess table and set about trying to fill his empty stomach.

While he ate, Burn kept an ear out for any interesting bits of scuttlebutt that might be floating about. Most of the recent news involved the new Lancers that had been appointed by Lord Marshal Garren. They had been raised from a sister company of Infantry. Burn’s company was Cavalry and there was a certain rivalry between them and Infantry.

“Gods, Lancers! A bunch of Foot getting the title of Lancer.” Burn’s thought to himself. He was a bit envious.

Lancers weren’t within the normal command structure and reported directly to Lord Garren himself. There hadn’t been Lancers in the Army for as long as anyone could remember. To get the commission a soldier had to be pretty special. Now there were five of them and all of them came from a sister company in the Underspur Garrison. What was even more interesting was that the Lancers were only a little more seasoned than a raw recruit but had acquitted themselves well. For foot that is, Cavalry had a certain distain for those that choose to walk everywhere.

“I hear one o’ them Lancers is laid up sick in the infirmary.”

“Yeah that’s right, Henri I think she’s called. Somewhat sick like. I hope it ain’t catchin’”

“I hear they moved her to the Temple.”

“Oi Burn,” Grey called from where he sat catercorner to Burn, “I saw the El-Tee going to the cappin’s tent. What d’you think he wanted then?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Burn replied, “He was looking for our good Corporal which probably means were going to be tasked with painting rocks or some other such nonsense later this afternoon.”

“Oh aye, I wouldn’t put that past them that make those kinds of decisions.”

His comments met with sighs and nods of understanding. A soldiers life seemed a balance of short periods of blood chilling terror coupled with long hours of tedium. Still, it was better than the far more tedious life as a farm boy even his his pa had let him hunt whenever the family larder needed restocking. He was good at hunting. The forest was like a second home to him. Walking behind a horses butt while trying to keep the furrows straight was his own personal version of the hells.

The chatter around him was dying down and Burn noticed that the rest of the squad was in various stages of finishing up so he stuff down the last vestiges of his meal and followed the last of his squad to the wash area to drop off his plate. Rejoining the rest of the squad in the assembly area, Burn put them at route step and moved the formation to the drill area where they were to spend the rest of the morning conducting patrol related exercises and mock battle drills under the observation of Drill Master Fewt. This was the ritual when not out on active patrol: Drill, drill and more drill. When morning drill was completed they would have ‘light duty’ which consisted of mundane tasks around the company area until the final formation of the day.

The Drill Master broke the squads out into their respective teams and had them partner up to spar. As a team leader it was Burn’s job to mentor his team mates and assist the Drill Master with instruction. He moved amongst his team pointing out improper stances or movements that might lead to a soldier leaving himself open to a counter attack.

“Jimmy, remember you are aiming for the vee between the neck and the collar bone.”

“Sam, keep your shield up! Swinging it out like that means you have to move it that much further to block an attack.”

This went on for some time. Now and again the Drill Master would stop the squad and have them gather around while he explained a technique in greater detail. It was during one of these sessions that Decklan appeared at the edge of the field and made his way to the squad area.

“’ere it comes,” quipped Grey to another round of sighs from his fellow squaddies.

“Alright steady on.” Burn said as he turned to face the approaching messenger.

Decklan ran up to Drill Master Fewt and gave a hasty salute, “Sir, Meirien’s squad has been ordered back to the Company area. Once there they are to prepare gather enough gear for a patrol mission to the Hollow Lands.

The mention of the Hollow Lands brought mixed responses from the squad. Burn and Talia exchanged grim looks, some of the younger squaddies went pale; Grey actually growled.

“That’s ah nasty bit o’ werk The Hollow Lands is.”

Grey was a veteran of no fewer than 4 patrols into that region. The Hollow Lands marked the beginning of Demimonde territory about three leagues west of Underspur. The area was a blight where nothing grew and all that was once alive now existed only has ash and dust. Patrols that went into the Hollow Lands were hard pressed to make it back out.

“Alight form up,” Drill Master Fewt commanded the grumbling mass of soldiers. “Burn, get them back to your area. Good Luck and Good Hunting.”

“Yes Sir!”

Burn formed the squad up and marched them back to the company camp. He was a little excited to finally be seeing action but, unlike Grey, didn’t have the experience to know he should be feeling dread. The made it back to the campsite and broke into their teams to gather their gear and begin getting ready for patrol. The veterans helped the green members of the squad shed unnecessary equipment and double up on gear that really mattered. Once prep was done all that was left to do was wait for further orders.

“Grey, you’ve been out there a couple of times, spill the beans.” Burn wanted to gain as much knowledge of where they were going as possible. He had never been to the Hollows but had heard all the stories.

“Aye, Grey” Talia added. “These young pups could use some pearls of wisdom.”

Her words seemed like snark but Grey knew she could take it as well as dish it out. They had sparred verbally many times in the past.

“Well fer one thing,” Grey began is his strange South Verennin drawl, “Don’t go tah sleep out there … ever. But yah will fall asleep so yah better hope yer buddy has yer back.”

“Don’t eat anything you find out there. And don’t leave anything behind neither. Demi got trackers just like us.”

“Keep yer horses fed. Even if that means you goan without. Yer horse will get you out of the Hollows but only if it’s fed not dead.”

“Remember, The Hollow Lands are Demi lands. Out there they are thickern’ fleas in a whores privates, me pardon ladies,” Grey bowed to the women in the squad.

“Now Grey don’t be so coy,” Talia responded, “We know you’ve worked hard to get those fleas out of your privates. Don’t be ashamed! You’ve done a good job!”

Grey grinned at the retort and continued his impromptu class.

“Now ‘member to watch the skies mates. Them Demi, they don’t respect life like you and me. The big ‘uns force the smaller ones onto huge catapults and launch them at formations. This method, she ain’t too pretty but there ain’t no arguing with the results. I’ve seen green recruits cut down while the stood dumfounded from the mere spectacle of flyin’ orks.”

“Oh aye I’ve seen that meself.” The deep gravely voice of Granis was unmistakeable. Grey turned and ceded the floor to his team leader with a flourished bow.

“Thank ye kindly Grey.”

Granis packed his pipe and enjoyed the hush that settled as he stopped to light it on one of the squad’s campfires. He was well respected in the squad. Once a proud member of his Thane’s High Guard, Granis had left his post at the request of that very Thane. They needed information information unclouded by the machinations of the diplomatic envoy the Outlands had sent to his clan holdings. His strength and prowess in battle earned him respect amongst the rank and file that made up the Underspur garrison.

“All Grey has told ya is good. Look to yer leaders and veterans for guidance when it comes to where to walk, where to sleep and where to take a piss.”

He turned and scanned the group, looking to see if the message was sinking in.

“Check yer gear, constantly. You don’t want to get neck deep in Ork only to realize yer blade is only good for buttering bread.”

“Don’t fall asleep during watch. Demi see good a night. Almost as good as we duergar. Humans can’t see squat at night so remember to memorize that cat’s eyes spell.”

“One thing to remember lads, is that orks don’t go down easy. This ain’t a duel. Gang up on them. Throw dirt in their eyes but for the love of all that’s holy don’t bite em. Ork taste nasty.”

This earned some chortles, mostly the uncomfortable kind from the greener recruits. The duergar’s rough, graphic language was a bit unsettling.

“Company, Ten HUT!”

Everyone was so engrossed by the duergar’s lesson that they failed to see the Commander approaching. Everyone that is, but Talia. Though the elf maid was slight she had a voice that could cut through stone.

“At your ease Wolves,” Captain Wayron returned the salute that Brun, Talia and Granis had raised on his approach.

“As you have been informed, the Marauders have been ordered on patrol into the Hollow Lands. I’m sure those veterans of previous patrols into that godsforsaken land have filled you in on what to expect. Corporal Meirien will fill you in on the specifics. He should be arriving shortly. I just wanted to drop by and with you all Good Luck and Good Hunting. I want you all back in a fortnight, that’s an order.”

The captain walked around shaking each soldiers hand. When he got to Granis he pulled the duergar off to the side and had a few words with him away from the men. He then strode off back in the direction of the command tent. The squad had broken up in the smaller groups to talk amongst themselves.

“So, I’m going to be nosy. What did the Captain want Granis?” Burn asked as Granis approached. He, Talia and Grey were going over marching formations and other administrative tasks necessary for the squad to go on patrol.

“Well he was just thanking me for this morning and all. That and he want’s me to make sure you three hoodlums make it back in one piece.”

“Alright Marauders, time to earn your pay.”

Meirien approached the gathered squad. Soldiers moved into a crescent shape around their corporal.

“As you know we’ve been tasked to take a patrol into the Hollow Lands. A right popular spot with the Scrizzards that place is.”

Scrizzards was a derogatory term used by soldiers when talking about Mages that kept to their scrolls and laboratories in Verennen. They never ventured into the field and used soldiers for intelligence gathering when scrying was either risky or blocked. Usually either meant that those going out to take a look-see ran the risk of not coming back alive.

“We haven’t heard from Captain Greyson at the forward camp for almost a week. The Lord Marshal wants us to head out there and find out what’s going on. We’ll leave in an hour. Burn, I want you and your team on point. You are the best tracker we have. Talia, Granis take left and right flanks respectively. Squad wedge formation. OK troops, you have your orders. Formation at the horses in an hour. Move Out!”