The Quest (Closed - See SignUp)

[WestleyOBryen]

Westley paused atop the wall to rub his gloved hands together yet again. Even through all of his layers, after three days atop the wall the cold was starting to seep through. Looking out over the ramparts towards the setting sun, Westley thought longingly of the firepit inside the guardhouse on the ground below. Only one more day, he thought. Regripping his pike, Wesltey continued his walk back towards the gate, where he would at least find some shelter from the winds, if only for a few moments. He and his squad had pulled wall duty, which meant a four day shift atop the outer city walls. In the summer, this was the shift that most soldiers dreamed of getting, with the wind blowing through their hair it was like a holiday. In the dead of winter, however, wall duty was every soldier's nightmare. The biting wind, the endless snow, the cold of their metal weapons and armor seeping through their clothing to burn their skin. At least it isn't snowing.

Westley reached the gate and quickly stepped through the door into the gatehouse and out of the wind. In there already was Westley's best friend Harthar and one of their other squad members, Alexander. Looking at Alex, Westley did his best to speak through chattering teeth, "your turn." Alex nodded, pulled his gloves back on and went out the door. Westley leaned his pike against the wall and pulled off his gloves, tucking them into his belt and trying to warm his hands on the torch that was burning in the center of the small room. "Cold out there. Cold enough to freeze the soul."

Once his hands were a little warmer, Westley gripped the leather bound hilt of his shortsword to unstick it from the sheath, then did the same to the longsword on his back. Reaching into a small pouch on his belt, Westley pulled out a small strip of jerky and put it in his mouth to chew while he looked out the arrow slit in the front of the gatehouse at the horizon. The sun had set, and was casting a pretty purple glow on the snow-covered trees of the forest to the west. "Only one more day Harthar, then we're off the wall. I think we've got scout duty next, but at least we'll get a day off to rest first."

[Harthar]

Harthar moved his gloved and mailed fist to the door and pushed roughly against it, pushing it open and letting some fo the biting cold wind within the guard house. He quickly closed it behind him after he had entered. There were two other members of his squad within the guardhouse and Harthar nodded to one, not daring to talk because of the cold he felt was stopping him form doing so. The squad member, Jason, nodded back and pulled his gloves on and moved out to do his round.

Harthar pulled the frosty gloves from his hands and crouched next to the fire, laying his pike down upon the ground. He looked over at the second squad member, Alexander, as he warmed his hands.

"Wes, been back yet?"

Alexander shook his head and sat back in his chair.

"He should be back in a little while, no one can stay out there for longer then we do."

Harthar nodded d sat back also, taking up his pike and laying it against the wall nearest to him. The door opened then and a gust of wind brought shivers to the men within and sent the fire flickering. Harthar took a piece of wood and lobbed it into the fire. He then took some smaller pieces of kindling and dropped them ontop of the bigger piece of wood. He looked up at the new entrant and noticed it was Westley, he inclined his head to his long time friend and wished Alexander good luck and a warm journey on his round. Alexander grimaced and Harthar chuckled lightly to himself.

Harthar agreed whole heartedly with how Alexander reacted and he also agreed with what Westley said. It would be good to get onto the scout duty and have that days rest.

Harthar took a piece of jerky from a pouch at his belt and stuck it into his mouth, he began to chew it softly and draw the taste from the peppered meat. At that moment the door to the inner compound opened and the cmmander of the regiment moved within. Harthar and Westley both stood up at once, both with the jerky in their mouths and both saluting. It looked rather comical at the time, if the time was one to be comical. But the commander was never in a comical mood and so he sighed when he said what he had to say to the soldiers.

"Get your gear together and get to the barracks. Change into formal attire and report to the palace to meet with the king. You two have been volunteered for a mission. Get out of my sight."

Harthar didn't care what the commander thought, he already had a huge smile upon his young but hardened face and his eyes were bright with excitement. When he looked over at Westley, he saw the same in his friends eyes.

Harthar leapt past the commander and out the door already racing his best friend to the barracks.

[WestleyOBryen]

When the commander entered Westley had jumped to his feet and saluted, nearly choking on his jerky. Seeing that Harthar had responded in kind, Westley had to suppress a laugh while the commander gave them the order.

"Get your gear together and get to the barracks. Change into formal attire and report to the palace to meet with the king. You two have been volunteered for a mission. Get out of my sight."

Westley's face broke into a huge grin and saw that Harthar's had done the same. A special mission from the king himself, it was every recruit's dream. Taking off after Harthar, the two raced down the spiraling staircase to the ground at the base of the wall. Bursting out the door at the bottom and into the chill evening air, Westley had to admit that the cold wasn't as bad within the walls as it was atop them.

The two friends raced towards the barracks and reached the door at the same time, shoving each other playfully, trying to be the first one inside. They ran through the common room of the barracks to their dormitory and to their bunk. "Man, we must have the best luck in the world. Not only do we get off wall duty a day early, but we've been picked for a mission by the king himself."

Westley stripped out of his armor and peeled off his dirty clothes, tossing them into the basket at the end of the bunk. He then opened the trunk beside the bed and pulled out his formal uniform. Westley dressed carefully and then put his armor back on. Pulling on his weapon belt, Westley picked up his shield and fastened it onto his back. Looking over at Harthar, Westley was surprised to see that his friend was already finished and waiting by the door. Picking up the pace and grabbing his cloak, Westley fastened it around his shoulders as he ran to the door.

The two left the barracks at a jogging pace and made their way towards the castle. It wasn't that far, and they made good time. When they arrived at the castle gates they were greeted by a gaunt looking man with very greasy black hair.

"Welcome, you must be Westley O'Bryen and Harthar Ultor. Please, follow me."

The two followed the greasy man through several corridors, up a flight of stairs and into the throne room. Westley had only been into the throne room once before, to watch his father's knighting ceremony, and it looked exactly as it had when he had been there last. The king was sitting on the throne with four men lined up in front of him, all dressed in formal military uniforms like Westley's and Harthar's. As they reached the throne, the greasy man motioned for Harthar and Westley to line up with the others. Then he moved to the king's side.

"These are the last two your majesty."

"Very well, we shall begin."

"Yes, of course. You six have been chosen for a mission of the utmost importance and secrecy. The mission will mean travelling well beyond the borders of our fair kingdom, and most likely into very hostile territory. The king needs for you to find several things for him, several ingredients as it were, for a medecine that will cure him of his ailment. Now this will require absolute secrecy on your parts because we do not want anyone finding out that the king is ill. You will have to leave behind all insigniae that will identify you as having allegiance with Alathil. Commander Dargo, I have already given you the scroll with the list of ingredients and where you will be able to find them, I'm sure you will be able to handle it. Thank you all, you are dismissed."

Dargo motioned to the five soldiers and lead them out of the throne room, back through the castle and back to the barracks. He lead them to a small meeting room and locked the door behind them.

"Alright people, you heard what the man said. We have to leave all insigniae behind. That means armor, shields, and uniforms. Tomorrow you will all go out, each of you with a special letter from the king, and you will pick up new equipment. You will need several pairs of clothes, since we are travelling south it will be getting warmer as we go, so take that into consideration. You will need new armor, shields, and weapons, so get the best quality you can find. Each of you will also need a horse and supplies to last at least two weeks, because I don't know how long it will be before we will be able to stop and restock. Now, get to bed, we leave in three days."

[Seren Usha]

Moving through the darkness of night and snow Seren moves awkwardly in the thick clothing through the biting chill. Keeping an eye out for thugs is a mut point even in the lower class part of the city she moved through, no one could wait for a victim long in this, not if they wanted to keep all their toes. Seren didn't go out side her warm dwelling often during winter she preferred warmer weather and it showed in her reddened face and grim look as she made her way to the tavern. Glancing at the sign over the door Seren snorted, Raoring Hearth Inn, stepping inside Seren thought simply, "Damn well better be".

Stomping her booted feet as she stood just in the door way Seren moved directly over to the side of one of the roaring fires. The tavern looked cheap but sturdy built, buildings built flimsy didn't last long in hard winters. Starting with her front, hands and face she ended by turning and warming her still frigid rear. As she warmed her ass she looked for Tercel, her Rapier teacher, not finding him she walked to an empty seat back away from the fires, passing by several groups of some what smelly men having a good time laughing and drinking.

As she finished taking off her outer most layer of clothing a maid stepped up next to the table. Knowing she was going to have trouble communicating the maid made it simple by asking.

"Warm mead?"

Nodding Seren fixes the angle of her hidden rapier as she relaxes in the seat. Not long latter, and a half-copper lighter Seren drinks the warm alcoholic beverage and starts being a little more pleased with how things are turning out, if all goes well she will be will be happily exploring in the south this time next year.

While she was focus inward her gaze had absent-mindly been in the general direction of a table full of the loudest group would had just gotten done some song drinking song or another. As she put her cup of mead back on the table one of the large mammals from the loudest pack plopped unsteadily into closest chair at the small round table. Looking at Seren he smiled showing off a missing tooth. Glancing over at the table the singers had stopped and were focused on the man across from her, the fool obviously being on of their number,

"You ah look like you could use some warm'in up lass."

Smiling back Seren leaned forward gesturing with her finger for the man to come closer. As the man leaned in close Seren grabbed her seat with her left hand and leaned back up right as she kicked the chair the drunk man sat on. Grabbing her drink as the fool fell over taking the table and his chair with him, Seren stood up and moved to the identical table beside the mess she had just made while the loudest table again claimed most of the air waves as every male roared with laughter.

Not long latter Seren favors the two cousins with a unhappy look as they step into the tavern, they were late and Seren detested waiting on people.

Tercel and the other move over after a few moments in front of the fire. Both dressed alike in non-descrypt cloth, worn with the intention of blending in as well as possible.

Tercel sits down in the closer chair speaking even as gestures with his fingers for the maid to do what-ever.

"Yes, yes we are late it couldn't be helped, I'm sure you felt right at home."

Giving Tercel a humorless mocking smile Seren set a small booklet of paper on the table, getting right to business she wrote.

I will be getting no further trouble from the Toulet family, yes?

The man beside Tercel read and nodded speaking
"That problem will be cleared up by tomorrow. The family will drop all charges and the marriage agreement will be absolved."

By simply nodding Seren again agreed to all terms of the Business venture. On that signal Tercel nodded to the other man who went on.

"You will spend the next two days publicly looking for agreeable caravan guards, finding no one acceptable until you see me and my men. Hire me, That is all."

With a slight nod Seren slides the booklet off the table and reaches over slapping Tercel, hard, to muddy the water on the reason for the meeting, a ruse that Seren found quite enjoyable after having had to wait. From the outside the conversation could have be one of a thousand things.

Striding quickly across the room Seren puts her cloak around her shoulder and steppes out into the cold.

[Kile Ronnaly]

In the small and crowded back room of the tavern, a small man sat hunched over a desk dimly lit by a small oil lamp. The desk was cluttered with papers and quill in hand the man shuffled through them; the place was terribly disorganized but that wasn't his fault, he did the best he could with what he was given. As he strained his eyes over the papers in the dimm light the door behind him suddenly swung open, slamming loudly against the wall next to it. Kile stiffened up and let out a gasp, startled by the unexpected loud noise. He already hand a headache, and this wasn't helping it any. He looked over his shoulder to see that it was his employer; a gruff, fat old man, who has so rudely entered.
"Please don't do that." Kile called over with his meek and soft voice.
"You're fired!" not only was he gruff, fat and old, but he was also very straight forward.
"Oh dear... bu.. but why?"
"I've found someone who'll do it for less."
Kile found that quite astonishing, his salory was barely enough to buy food and firewood, infact he hadn't been able to aford a good cup of tea in weeks, how could any possible on less.
"I've given the job to my son, I think he's old enough to do it now."
Yes his son was certainly old enough, he was twentyseven, but the boy was a moron, with him on the books the place would probably end up in even deeper debt than it already was.
"Yessir..."
"Good, now get your things and go!"
"But sir, its the dead of winter, without a job I could starve to death... or freeze..."
"Or both for that matter, but that isn't my concern, now get out."
Kile simply nodded and rose. Pocketing his quill and inkwell he took up his coat and walking stick and left, walking slowly back towards the small room he rented in a local boarding house.

[Harthar]

Harthar was excited as to their mission. They would be under cover and traveling around the lands. It was great, but they would have act normally, and not like the soldiers they were, which ment getting new equipment, and Harthar planned on getting some equipment the army would never have allowed under any other circumstances. But he would leave that til the morning, tonight the six soldiers would need their sleep.

Both Harthar and Westley walked back to the barracks at a restful pass, finding pleasure in not have to rush around for once, the only down point was that it was still cold and was beginning to snow. Harthar and Westley both knew that when it snowed, it ment a storm would be in there for the night. They both began to walk a little faster for the barracks and managed to make it to the end of the street and about two hundred yards from the barracks before the storm hit, the winds picked up and the snow came down like rain, obscuring their vision and forcing them to walk close to the edges of the street. They trudged along, unhappy with their predicament and wishing they had kept with the others in their new group.

They brought the hoods of their cloaks up over their heads and lent into them so that they could walk slightly faster and not get wind burn on their faces. They made it to the barrack's front doors some twenty minutes later and were feeling like they had been dropped into a bucket of water and then been brought out naked into the snow. They shivered and snow covered most of their bodies. The door guards proceeded to tease the two warriors before they realised that Harthar and Westley were not in the mood. Wes and Har grabbed the guards and pushed them out into the cold before closing the door tightly and holding it shut for a few moments to let the guards get the real feel for the cold.

Finally when the doors were opened again the guards ran in and were shiving uncontrolably also. Harthar and Westley began their own chorus of laughter at the guards before finally going up to their squad's room and to their bunks. They praised the builder that had made a large furnace beneath the barrack's stone floors. It warmed the floors and walls so that the inside of the place was nice and warm but the outside was terribly cold. They stripped oftheir armour and cloths, except for their leather breeches which they kept on and wore to bed. They were alseep in moments after their heads touched the pillows.


Harthar woke early that morning and when he sat up he saw Westley was also up and getting ready for their jornt into the market district for equipment. Harthar slid out of bed and got dressed into some warm, ordinary looking clothings and then wrapped a plain green wool clock around his form, finally securing his short sword belt to his waist as a precaution. Finally when the two men were ready Harthar spoke up.

"Ok, we will split and meet up at the Golden Horn Tavern when we have the equipment we need. Then we can go and meet the others with all our equipment on. Sound good?"

Westley nodded and they both moved off. When they reached the front door of the barracks they both nodded to each other and then split up to go to the various shops they needed to.

Harthar went first to an armourer and proceeded to purchase a pair of chainmail gauntlets and black leather bracers. The cloth of the gauntlets was black and he made sure the chainmail links were dimmed to a slightly lighter colour of black and they were missing the index finger and middle finger. He then bought a shirt of light chainmail, also dimmed but also silenced and sleeveless. This he would wear under his shirt but over the top of his undershirt. He bought a new pair of boots, these having metal shin guards on the inside of the boot instead of outside, and so they were not uncomfortable they were also padded on the inside.

He did not put all this on after he had bought it, he put it within a backpack he had brought with him. His next stop was a leather store to purchase a new pair of black leather breeches and a black leather undershirt, he undershirt and breeches he had specially fitted so that it would not impead movement when in a fight. The undershirt was sleeveless and hugged his toned chest and shoulders. He bought a belt and two pouches as well as having a loop for a weapon to be slid into.

He then bought a leather vest, light brown, with no sleeves. Then, to complete his mercenary feel to his new cloths he bought a pair of black leather bands with intricate designs upon them, these would go around his upper arms to emphasis the muscles in his strong arms.

All this he also put within his backpack, he would change into it later. His backpack was quiet full by now, but only a few more places would need to be stopped at before he would go to the Golden Horn.

[WestleyOBryen]

Westley woke up early, the excitement of the coming mission filling him with energy. He quickly got out of his bunk and started getting dressed to go into town for his equipment. When he was dressed he made a deal with Harthar to meet later in the day, and Westley set off to get his equipment.

The first place he went was the weapons shop. At a young age, Westley's father had taught him the difference between a good quality weapon and a poor quality weapon. The weapons issued by the Alathil military were of very poor quality, so Westley wanted to procure new ones. The weapons shop had a vey large store room, and Westley searched it for over an hour before he emerged, looking triumphant with a longsword made of steel from the country of Valyria to the south, who were by far the greatest sword makers in the world. The sword shone beautifully with every beam of light, and looked sharper that a sword had a right to be. The hilt of the sword, made of steel as well, though of a darker shade, was wrapped in the finest black leather, and had a carving of a dragon's head for the pommel, he named the sword "Drake". He also got himself a very fine shortsword, not of Valyrian make, but very fine all the same. Westley showed the shopkeeper the letter and traded in his two military issue swords for the blades. He attached the longsword to his back so that the hilt showed over his right shoulder, and attached the shortsword at his right hip, then he left the store.

Westley's next stop was the armor shop. There wasn't much selection, but Westley picked out some leather armor that would allow for perfect mobility while providing some minor protection from blows. Going into a side changing room Westley took off his winter garments and put on his new armor, then put the winter garments back on over it. As he was leaving he showed the owner his letter and left his military issue chainmail and shield.

Westley made a quick stop in the clothing store, mainly to purchase clothes more suitable for southern weather, which was bound to be noticeably warmer, but the fashion his was going for would be perfectly shown by the leather armor that he had bought, so in the way of clothing he bought very little.

Westley's last stop before the tavern was a tattoo shop, he was sure that travelling mercenaries all had tattoos, and if he was planning to portray a travelling mercenary then he'd need some of his own. Westley got four tattoos, one on his right bicep that was a dragon coiled around a sword that was pointing downwards. One around each wrist that looked like bracelets of black flames. And one on his back, near his neck, that was a dragon with its wings unfurled, the tips of the wings reaching Westley's shoulder blades, but not on them. Westley motioned to the artist, an old friend of his and Harthar's, "if you see Harthar later, make sure he gets one like this," at which point Westley pointed to the dragon and sword on his right bicep. He then showed the artist his letter and left.

Westley made good time getting to the Golden Horn, and was only slightly chilly when he got there. He grabbed his and Harthar's usual table near the back and ordered his usual mulled mead. When the drink was delivered Westley sat, drinking it slowly while he waited for Harthar to arrive.

[Seren Usha]

Relaxing at a table in the common room of the inn she was staying at not long after noon Seren was idly watching a game of dice between to youngsters, the stakes were low but they still swore and grumbled like their older counter parts. Seren fresh out of a rapier practice and a bath looked inviting, she was not altogether beautiful, but had her attraction with her hair left unbound and her deep green eyes bright with thought. Seren had already arranged for the Gems and the two covered wagons that were going to be used to transport them. The man in charge of looking after the caravan before it headed out had been slow to agree to hand it over to Seren, but a substantial sum of gold had soon swayed his mind, besides his contract stipulated to a member of the house Usha, to which Seren was a proven member.

Swinging her eyes slowly up to the chair opposite her at the table the only seat closer to the fire than her own, she first notices the large ax laying on the table, next the gruff man in the seat and finally noticing the two other men to the left and right of him. The man opposite her had a tattoo on his neck, a jagged scar on his face and a not particularly cared for beard, he didn't look happy at having to wait even a few seconds for Seren's attention.

Sliding the booklet forward Seren had written in it previously, It was a page she found herself using often.

Can you read? Can you take orders from a woman?

Leaning forward after looking at the paper the belligerent large man says,

"Perhaps you should just go get your husband or brother and leave men's business to men."

At that Seren simply smiled, it was to easy finding a reason getting ride of potential Guards. Already having the attention of the two dice throwing youngsters from the large man's words Seren glanced over at them smiling. The larger older of the boys perhaps two or three years younger than Seren's age stood up smiling wide.

"The lady says get the fuck out shit for brains."

Turning back to the bear like man across from her Seren continues smiling, though her hand is firmly fixed around the rapier at her side. The large man seems surprised and angry, two reactions Seren tends to see often in her dealings with men. Standing up, her hand still on her weapon Seren gestures at the door, smiling still.

His face a mask of rage the bear like man picks up his ax, throwing a vicious look at every one in the room he makes his way out followed by his two shadows.

Tossing a full copper at the young foul mouthed boy Seren relaxes back in her seat, waiting for the man who she called upon earlier in the day, she had heard he was a small man who could do his job and would have no problem taking orders from a woman. Seren had taken the time to learn the route she would be taking and spent even more time learning about general facts about the south, but she needed someone to look after the books, guarding and looking after where and how her money was being spent. Seren was told the fellow was to timid to consider stealing, Seren was interested in meeting any man that timid, a man should know his place.

[Kile Ronnaly]

A small bit of fortune smiled upon Kile, not even a full day after he was fired he was called upon for a new job. Apparently there was a merchant caravan leaving town soon and they were in need of a book keeper. And as if that were not enough to be pleased about the caravan was heading to the warmer south.

The small man whistled softly as he walked through the snow towards the inn where he was to meet his new employer. Just as he was about to enter a large, and apparently quite angry man was making his departure. Kile managed to slip out of his way just in time to avoid be plowed into the ground by the inconsiderate oaf. "Oh dear." And so Kile entered the inn shivering, in part from the bitter cold outside, and in part due to the sudden start of angry axe-bearer.

Looking around inn Kile found it to be what he had expected it to be, loud and crowded full of all sort of activity, the book keeper had been in many inns and taverns but he preferred to spend most of his times in their back rooms where it was much quieter. Soon his eyes fell onto a young lady sitting alone. She seemed to fit the description of Kile's would-be employer, although she was a bit younger than he'd expected, so he approached her table.

With a smile he spoke and extended his hand to her for shaking. "You're Miss Usha, I presume?" Nervousness was apparent even in his soft voice.

Even for a timid man such as Kile, who used formalities when speaking to just about anyone, it felt odd being so formal to a lady so much his younger, of course he was soon over that concern, any employer would be a good employer at this point.

[Harthar]

Harthar left the leather store after purchasing his new equipment and then headed to the stables. They would need horses in order to travel quickly on the mission as well as to have an advantage over robbers that may come into their path. Harthar was a very good judge of horses, his father had also been, he was told which is why he had a six sense for horses. He looked over the horses within the stables quickly and noted a horse with a silver coat and one with a pitch black one, both looked to have the same power, endurence and intelligence. Harthar picked those two and showed the letter he was issued by his commanding officer, to the stable master. He also took two stadles and two saddle bags. One for each of the horses. Then he led them out of the stables and toward the weapons shop, his next stop.

Harthar tied off the horses onto a pole outside the weapons shop and moved within. He was a good judge of weaponry, perhaps not as good as his best friend Westley, but he was good enough. He chose a longsword with a black, gut wrapped hilt which was made in Valyria, and he also took a mace that had been made in the same place. The mace he made sure to have especially large spikes on it. The longsword's scabbard was of black leather, banded in metal at the mouth and tip. He also bought a two throwing knives and a long bladed dirk. He may need them. He handed in his standard issue short sword and showed the letter to the weapon smith, before moving outside with his newly aquired weapons.

He untied the horses and led them to his next destination. The Clothing shop. He tied the horses off again and moved inside. He was not within the clothing shop to buy anything, but he did look around to see if there was anything he may need. Eventually he just went into the changing room and changed into his new equipment. Once he was completely dressed and equipt he looked at himself in a shiny piece of glass and smiled. He would have to do something about his hair however, it looked too neat and tidy to be that of a mercenary. He looked down at his old black leather undershirt and smiled.

A few minutes later Harthar had his hair tied in a tight pony tail at the nape of his neck with a braided leather piece of string he had made from his old leather shirt. He shoved his old cloths under the bench and left them. He would not need them and the store would not get more then a few coins from it. When he moved out he picked up a green woolen cloak with a fur inside and thought it best if he took this cloak to keep himself warm. He strapped his longsword hilt to his back and secured it there, then drew the cloak on around his form. The hilt of the longsword stuck up behind Harthar's head, but the man didn't worry, he would only use the sword when he was prepared, if he was taken by surprise he would either use his mace or knives. He slid the mace through the loop in his belt and attached the knife sheaths to the belt also.

He walked out of the store, untied the horses and was once more moving along. He assumed Westley was finished his business by now and was sitting at the bar waiting for him, but he would have to wait a tad longer as Harthar was going to get a tattoo and then buy some supplies for the trip. Harthar tied the horses off outside the tattoo store and then moved within. The tattooist smiled at him and moved over to him.

"Harthar. Westley told me to give you a tattoo on your upper right arm. Along with any other tattoos you wanted."

"Great. I'll take the tattoo of Westleys and also a Dragon with its wings spread open on my right shoulder blade, and then on the left I'd like that awesome dark archangel you drew a few weeks ago on my left shoulder blade, with its wings open to."

"Sure thing Harthar, just sit back and I'll do the rest."

And thats exactly what Harthar did, he sat back and let the man do his job. After several minutes of quick work by the expert tattooist, Harthar was standing up and showing the letter to the man.

"Thank you very much."

Harthar walked out and took the horses to the travel shop. There he bought the usual travel supplies, which he tucked into the saddle bags, before he eventually stopped at the Golden Horn. He put the horses into the stables and then moved into the common room. Running his hands through his hair, which seemed to emphasis his tattoos and his toned and above average sized arm muscles. He spotted Westley waiting at their usual table with a mug.

Harthar walked over to Westley and sat down opposite him at the table.

"Sorry I'm late..."

[Seren Usha]

Seren knew the fellow to be the man in question the moment she laid eyes on him as he neared her table. Taking in the sight of him Seren found herself liking him almost admittedly, from the expression on his face to the way he carried himself. He looked out of place in the tavern and Seren had trouble picturing him 'in place' any where.

"You're Miss Usha, I presume?"

Nodding Seren extended her hand a little uncomfortable with Kile's formal demeanor. The only time Seren was talked to like that was when being introduced to potential husbands and being looked at and talked at like a purchase all the while. A few of the worst males flew threw her head. The very old Gray Hair looking for a young wife to care for him, the drunk who Seren mentally thought of as Sir Hands, the fellow had gotten free with his hand at a dinner ball and after the third time grabbing her rear she turned and hit him square on the chin in the middle of a room full of people, felling him like a pole axed ox. Her father had more trouble finding suitors after that, even if he did increase her dowery. Than the would-be noble solider, who had gotten forceful with her not an hour into their first meeting, even tearing the dress she hadn't wanted to wear, he had squealed like a stuck pig when she stabbed him in the shoulder, some soldier.

Bringing herself back to the present Seren gestured at the chair opposite her. The meeting was little more than an introduction to each other, the short fellow had already gotten the job and Seren acted as such.

Opening the booklet Seren wrote quickly with a charcoal pencil, her hand writing with a quill was nothing short of superb but the simple pencil was all she carried with her. Sliding the booklet over to Kile the page had a simple note and a generous figure at the bottom which was the little fellows pay.

I have looked after you and found you sufficient, you have the job. I do not speak but will always make my mind known. I am Seren or Boss, I'm not sure there was ever a Miss Usha. You will be paid when we arrive in our destination, and everything you need will be supplied while you work for me.
$*****

[Kile Ronnaly]

The woman who sat before Kile had a demeanor quite the opposite of his own. Even though she was a mute it became quite apparent quickly that her personality was one of commanding presence. Nevertheless she didn't seem like she would be overbearing like many of the employers the small scribe had had in the past. And it least she certainly wouldn't be yelling at him. He hated to be yelled at. There was no need to yell, he could hear fine, and all it ever served to do was make him more nervous than usual and give him a headache.

Kile was pleased by what he heard, read. He was heading to the South, he was getting paid well, and his new employer didn't seem to bad. What could possibly go wrong? "Your offer is more than generous Miss Ush..." He stopped himself short, and corrected himself. Referring to a boss in an informal manor would take some getting used to. Although it would at least be more befitting to her age. "...Seren. I am afraid I've as of yet been told very little about this job, except the destination. I would appreciate any more you could tell me... and most importantly when and where I am to begin."

[Seren Usha]

At the completion of the little fellows speech Seren smiled in a way that usually spoke of danger for the offending party, this time the smile was a bit more mischievous. Writing again Seren slides the paper in front of Kile,

You will find out about this job as it unfolds, we will be traveling under guard with a product, you will be handling the financial aspect of the trip and its destination. And as for when you start.

As the little fellow looked up from the paper Seren flipped the page closed and gestured with her finger to follow. Standing up Seren didn't look back to see if Kile followed, taking the stairs slowly two at a time up to the second floor Seren strolls down the hallway to her door and feeds the key into the lock. Turning the key and handle Seren pushes the door open.

The room was average sized with a warmth the came from the floor, the room was right above the kitchen and almost always had a pleasant temperature. One bed sits close to the table with a small metal contraption for burning small bits of wood to make heat. On the other beds sits a pile of papers, the paper work for Seren's dowry. After her somewhat unfriendly exploits with some men her father had made her dowry quite large to attract nobility and after some quick and not all together honest maneuvering it was all in Seren's name. She had given a chunk of land to the Caravan Holder representing a large pile of gold. Seren also some good horse flesh about, a small and not altogether prosperous iron mine, gold and rights to a few minor Usha trading agreements, certainly not the one she was arranging. She knew what it was worth altogether but she needed someone to sort it out and arrange for the things that were hers to come into her possession. Seren had tried to work through it but after losing her temper and almost throwing it on the bedside burner she had left it as is, in a mess for someone who knew what he or she was doing.

Gesturing with her hand as a person introducing a room or building Seren smiled.

[WestleyOBryen]

Westley smiled at his friend and shook his head, "I haven't been waiting long, I only just got here myself and I'm not even done my first mug. Westley signalled to the barmaid, who brought Harthar a mug of the mulled mead. "Did you get any tattoos? Check these out. Westley pulled off his gloves and rolled up his sleeves a little so that Harthar could see the rings of fire around them. "I figured, if we're posing as mercenaries, we'd need tattoos."

Westley finished off his first mug, but decided not to get another, choosing instead to pull his gloves on and stand up to leave. "I've got one more thing I've gotta do, but it's gonna take me a while, so I decided to come here first. I'll see you back at the barracks later on."

Westley left the tavern and walked out into the cold wind. He walked almost all the way across the city, into a small residential area with a few warm looking homes. The smell of home cooking came to Westley's nostrils and he smiled. He walked up to the third house on the left, and hesitated for just a moment before pushing the door open.

He saw her bustling around the kitchen, preparing a small dinner for herself. It had been six years since he had last seen her, and he was now quite a bit taller that she. She didn't notice him at first, just kept fixing her dinner. Then she felt the draft, and turned to the door. She froze in place, as if not daring to believe her eyes. "Hello mother."

She burst into tears and moved quickly around the table to embrace him. They held each other for a long time, before she pulled away and motioned for him to sit. She couldn't speak, a nobleman had cut out her tongue years before when she refused his advances. They ate in silence, then Westley's mother made a series gestures that meant "why did you come?" Westley had spent so much time with his mother after the attack that he too had learned to use the sign language she learned from Westley's tutor. Westley answered aloud.

"I came to say goodbye, I'm leaving on my first mission soon, and I don't know when I'll be back. I wanted to see you before I left, and I wanted to visit dad's grave."

She nodded and grabbed her fur cloak, then motioned for him to follow her. They left through the back door and walked through a small yard to a single grave. The stone marking the grave had nothing written on it, but it wasn't needed since only Westley's dad was buried there. One top of the stone, partially covered in snow was a long, wide bladed dagger that had once belonged to Westley's father. Westley knelt and said a silent prayer to his father, communing in a way that was beyond words.

When Westley stood to leave, his mother stopped him, then took the dagger off the tombstone and handed it to him. She then made a series of gestures that meant, "he would want you to have it". Westley nodded, then kissed her on the cheek and left to make the long walk back to the barracks.

It was full dark by the time he reached the barracks, and when he got there he went straight to his bunk and went to sleep.

[Kile Ronnaly]

Kile was left a bit puzzled by the sudden end to the note he read, but it all became quite clear when he looked up from the paper, a slightly confused look on his face, over to Seren to see her gesturing for him to follow her. The young lady rose, standing several inches taller than the book keeper, who also rose. Kile followed her, as requested, up the stairs, but the older and shorter man took them but one at a time. At the top and down a hall they entered one of the rooms. The room was quite pleasantly warmed, both from the kitchen below, and the small heat stove that sat near one of the beds, it was quite a welcome change from the frigid out doors. There were papers scattered all about one of the rooms beds, and the look on the merchant daughters face made it clear that Kile had quite a task before him.

Taking a bit of a stroll towards the bed, Kile took a brief look at several of the papers scattered about. Deeds and contracts mostly. Looking back towards the young Usha lass the soft spoken man spoke softly, and with a timid smile, "You've got quite a bit of money lying on this bed." Kile hadn't worked with assets of these sorts since he was in school, in fact he'd worked with little more inns and taverns, and if he was lucky the occasional shot or caravan would hire him on a temporary basis. This could even prove to be a bit more entertaining, or perhaps just a bit more stressful.

With a brief glance towards the papers again, and then back to the girl Kile continued. "I suppose I can have it all organized by night fall... but of course if notices need be set for the fulfillment of contract and then the like then those matters will take a bit longer." after a brief pause "Will that all suitable Seren?"

[Seren Usha]

Seren smiled wider, she was starting to like this little fellow, and well worth the money she was paying him. Pulling out her booklet Seren writes

There is no rush, as long as the contracts are ready for delivering by midday tomorrow. If you need anything pound on the floor and wait, someone will be up.

Seren rips off the paper and hands it to Kile before stepping back out the door. Seren smiled when she though about 'if he needs anything', she was not joking, if the little fellow wanted a live oxen brought to the room the inn keeper would do his damndest to make it happened, the innkeeper will be jingling quite a bit by the time Seren left town, but she had already threaten to find another Inn.

Wondering about delivering the contracts Seren came upon the answer as she sat down at her seat on the first floor with the bard setting up nearby. The caravan guards would have to pull double duty if they wanted to leave, two or three would go with her and be enforcers, not that she needed any, but a few extra angry looking Blades would insure she didn't have any problems with anyone. The Toulet family may still bare a grudge and her father had people who could capture her if they were stupid enough to try. Nothing she was doing was really illegal per say, but no one would weep if she was 'returned home'.

Seren wasn't worried about the deeds and contracts in the fellows possession, they were in her name and she would have trouble making good on them, if the little fellow tried to use them he would be laughed at, Besides she could see both exits from where she sat and the fellow didn't look like the building repelling type.

Relaxing back in preparation for the bard Seren had twisted the Innkeeper's arm to supply, Seren took a sip of the wine that had been set nearby for her.

[Kile Ronnaly]

'No rush'... 'if you need anything'... this was certainly the first time any employers had ever told him things like that before. He had never been a very lucky man but perhaps that was about to change, and after forty years it was about time. And he hadn't even gotten a mild headache all day. Things really were looking up. Kile smiled at the mute as she left and then turned his full intention to the papers scattered about before him. He ran a hand through his long hair, scratching his head, he thought a moment on where to begin. Then gathering up the whole mess of papers into one pile he set them down at the rooms desk, and set himself down in the chair before it.

Reaching into one of the inner pockets of his coat, which he had draped over the back of the chair, Kile withdrew his inkwell and quill as well as a small notepad of his own. He began going through the documents. One by one he read through them all making brief notes of what each item was in his notepad, perhaps the single most time consuming part of his job. As he'd finished reading through each document he put into a stack, separating them by what they were; contract or deed, and what they concerned; land, livestock, gold, gem stones, and the like. As he made his way through the pile of papers it began to appear, to the trained book keeper that the paper trail was a bit shadowy. But that was none of his concern, this was thus far the best boss he'd had, and he had no intentions on messing that up. And even if had been one of his other employers the timid man would likely have done nothing.

Once the long ordeal of sorting was threw with Kile went back and looked through each of the contracts. Many of them used a number of somewhat underhanded legal and verbal tricks to accomplish their goals, most must such things within the contracts had already been dealt with in their creation so they proved no real trouble for the small man, leaving him just with the small task of seeing to it they were all properly signed and sent of to the right places. It wasn't much longer, or at least it didn't seem like it, Kile had sort of lost track of time, that he had finished that task. All that left him was a few minor matters left to be handled with Seren herself, mostly just signings, and then the contracts could be sent out.

After checking through all the papers once more to assure he had made no errors, not wanted to end up on Seren's bad side because of some stupid mistake, Kile reached into his notepad and tore out all the notes he had taken, and tossed them into the small heat stove. He never kept the personal note he made on other peoples documents. The small man knocked on the floor, to treat himself to a cup of tea for his job well done. It was not until then that he realized the sun was just setting down over the horizon. The take had taken him just about as long as he expected, although it hadn't felt like it.

[Harthar]

Harthar inclined his head toward Westley as his friend stood and left the tavern/inn. He brought the mug of ale to his lips and drank down the rest before scanning the room for any familiar faces. Seeing none, and seeing no worth while entertainment, he stood and moved back to the stables, carrying his equipment. He moved out and to the two horses that waited, giving them a brush and then saddling them and securing the supplies and such back onto the horses.

Once they were ready, Harthar mounted his horse and took up Westley's mounts reigns. He then rode out of the stables and back toward the barracks, when he reached the barracks gates he headed inward and toward their stable. Depositing the two horses there, he walked into the dormatories and to his squads rooms. The other members of his squad were shocked to see Harthar as he was and they said nothing.

Harthar merely smiled and walked to his bunk. He removed his weaponry and placed them next to his bed before he lay down to retire for the rest of the day and night. He assumed they would head out at first day light, and Harthar wanted to be up bright and early so that he could get everything ready.

[Seren Usha]

Seren had gotten up earlier do to habit and was practicing hard with a rapier in each hand after having broken her fast for the day. She worked mainly on foot work and blade movement, she had practiced with a case of rapiers before but she needed reintroducing. She stood with legs at walking distance wide and her left foot back with her right rapier in wide ward with her hand out in front of her body for defense and her left Rapier in a high ward with her hand near her left eye. Directing a slash only present in her mind away from her body with her right rapier Seren shifts to the left away from the slash thrusting with her rapier from high ward at an imaginary attackers face bringing her left foot passed her right foot for power and extra distance.

Imagining a new danger Seren keeps in mind Tercel's words about needing to remember who she will need to use her blades against, from here on out she would more likely fighting against men with wide bladed slashing weapons, weapons of clumsy power that were dangerous to even the best duelist. Tercel had come in last night with the rapier she was having made that she didn't even know Tercel knew about, he had his connections. They had talked for some time about lots of things and he had left saying good bye. He had not said any thing but she expected today her guards would show up in a hurry to leave for the south. With her sword shopping out of the way Seren only needed to collect her gold from a building near where the gem caravan was and see a man about her horses, they had agreed on a fair price