Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 3:29:09 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Nov 28, 2016 5:55:42 GMT -8
Jean Soult was the nearest officer in question, and the arrival of new recruits was just what he needed to get his Battalion up to fighting strength. He tended to get more of the prisoners for some reason, but that may have been due to his camp's proximity to the front gate.
"I'll take them Warden, you need my seal any where?"
Once the paperwork was taken care of, he would turn to address the three newcomers. He carried himself easily, used to a much different life than most in the legion but his older brother was financing two battalions and their equipment so here was as an officer. He got along well with most of the men, they had already fought alongside him on two occasions and respected his combat ability, even if his tactics left a bit to be desired.
"So, you three. We are about to set out, but we got about half an hour. I need your names and your crime."
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Erard Duval
New
Roleplay posts: 7 
Age: 22
Physical Description: Standing at a modest 5'10", Erard has a set of alert, grey eyes that catch the light not unlike pools of mercury. A full crown of jet black hair, can be seen sprouting from above his delicate ears, which falls down into a tied tail that sits behind his head so as not to get into the way. A dainty nose sits nicely above a naturally small and often closed mouth, and below that, a sharp and narrow chin ends his delicate face. Wispy sideburns and a set of facial hair frames the rest of his face. He carries himself in such a way that makes him a little rough, and he lives up to much of the expectations one might have from studying his appearance.
His body is lithe, though tight muscles indicate some level of training with a weapon, or a previous life of manual labour. As his skin carries a tan, it is easy to imagine that he spends a lot of his time outdoors. A large scar runs down his face, from the forehead and across his right eye.
Clothes and Equipment: Erard's wardrobe is rudimentary, and he owns little, if anything for himself. A set of dark tunics woven in cloth fall down towards a single, brown belt that fastens a set of large breeches. On his feet are two large riding boots that look rather out of place with the rest of his equipment, and give him the look of a cavalryman, though he is most certainly not one. A long weathered coat covers the whole ensemble, granting him the appearance of an odd noble mercenary, or a farmer playing noble dress-up, whichever way you look at it.
Oddly, attached to his belt is a well-dressed arming sword, with a silver-adorned scabbard inlaid with copper eagles. It isn't too flashy, but definitely something far too expensive for Erard to own. It's either an heirloom, or he stole it in combat, though he has never really spoken about it.
Player's online availability : Weekdays: 12:00 - 20:00 // Weekends: 10:00 - 16:00, 20:00 - 24:00
Registered: Nov 28, 2016 2:41:34 GMT -8
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Post by Erard Duval on Nov 28, 2016 10:44:44 GMT -8
The Warden gave a prompt nod as the prisoners were handed off, and Erard quickly found a hard shove to the back. He stumbled forwards with the other two men, and watched as the caravan wheeled around and exited through the gate. His gaze lingered there for some time, though his thoughts were disturbed by the voice of Jean Soult to his front. Turning his head to meet the man directly in the eyes, he frowned. One of the men next to him, a large and bulky man with thick lines of wiry muscles opened his mouth to speak, a thick foreign accent barely managing to pronounce the Gauldin tongue, though not too hard to understand.
"Culle's the name. Been in fer' a five stretch. Caught me stealin' horses from the fields. S'pose I cut a soldierly figure."
The other prisoner neglected to speak for a moment, but eventually raised his chin up to speak. His bronzed skin and short figure indicated that he too, was foreign, and soon it was confirmed by his similar accent.
"Danyn Croy is the name, m'lord, sir. I was caught smuggling goods past the checkpoints. And I thought I knew these areas well..." The man trailed off as he spoke, eventually drifting off into silence. His head then fell back down, clearly tired from the march that had preceded their arrival to the camp. When the silence grew longer, Erard looked to the man stood across from him. Muscular, and striking a rather commanding figure. He tried his best not to disrespect the man, preferring to wave his hand through the air in some manner of faux bow, before half-smirking.
"Erard Duval. They got me for manslaughter. I've been in for three years." He nodded. "Where exactly are we setting off to?"
Erard ran a hand across one of his wrists, where red skin had parted to reveal cracked flesh where the manacles had dug too deep. He winced ever so slightly. The wounds weren't serious, but enough to present some form of discomfort. By his side, he wore his belongings that had been in the care of the Bayonne Prison since his arrival. His sword, in particular, was worse for wear, a good spot of rust lining the top of the scabbard, though the sword itself was in good enough condition, most likely commandeered by one of the Prison guards during his incarceration. His hand dropped to the pommel of the thing, reassuring himself of its presence. |
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 3:29:09 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Nov 28, 2016 13:16:31 GMT -8
Jean nodded knowingly. None of the crimes were all that unusual, the Legion had a few who were far worse.
"Welcome to the Legion lads. Here your former lives don't matter, you serve your time and the slate is wiped clean. Can't say that the victims of your previous crimes will forgive you, but the government will. We head out in support of the First Battalion, who are leading a mission against a nearby barbarian camp. You all can fight?"
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Erard Duval
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: 22
Physical Description: Standing at a modest 5'10", Erard has a set of alert, grey eyes that catch the light not unlike pools of mercury. A full crown of jet black hair, can be seen sprouting from above his delicate ears, which falls down into a tied tail that sits behind his head so as not to get into the way. A dainty nose sits nicely above a naturally small and often closed mouth, and below that, a sharp and narrow chin ends his delicate face. Wispy sideburns and a set of facial hair frames the rest of his face. He carries himself in such a way that makes him a little rough, and he lives up to much of the expectations one might have from studying his appearance.
His body is lithe, though tight muscles indicate some level of training with a weapon, or a previous life of manual labour. As his skin carries a tan, it is easy to imagine that he spends a lot of his time outdoors. A large scar runs down his face, from the forehead and across his right eye.
Clothes and Equipment: Erard's wardrobe is rudimentary, and he owns little, if anything for himself. A set of dark tunics woven in cloth fall down towards a single, brown belt that fastens a set of large breeches. On his feet are two large riding boots that look rather out of place with the rest of his equipment, and give him the look of a cavalryman, though he is most certainly not one. A long weathered coat covers the whole ensemble, granting him the appearance of an odd noble mercenary, or a farmer playing noble dress-up, whichever way you look at it.
Oddly, attached to his belt is a well-dressed arming sword, with a silver-adorned scabbard inlaid with copper eagles. It isn't too flashy, but definitely something far too expensive for Erard to own. It's either an heirloom, or he stole it in combat, though he has never really spoken about it.
Player's online availability : Weekdays: 12:00 - 20:00 // Weekends: 10:00 - 16:00, 20:00 - 24:00
Registered: Nov 28, 2016 2:41:34 GMT -8
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Post by Erard Duval on Nov 28, 2016 14:36:37 GMT -8
"Barbarians? Met a few of those me'self in the locker. Give me an axe an' I'll see it you get some heads, sir."
Culle was a simple man, and his idea of fighting seemed to follow suit. He hooked two short, sausage-like fingers into the rawhide belt fastening his prison slacks up. His proud smile was whole, with a full set of yellow teeth adorning his gruff, cracked mouth. That, Erard noted, was a good sign. It was rare to make it through a prison stretch without making any enemies. That, or you were just good enough to get them before they got you. Culle was either extremely lucky, or his strength matched his bravado. He traced a hand down his own scar. Erard knew all too well the harsh life in prison. The scar was a reminder of prison justice. A reminder that he would never steal from anyone else ever again, or suffer the consequences.
"I'm no knight, but I'm familiar with fighting." He nodded once, as if confirming the fact. "You won't find me dodging a fight."
The last voice came from Danyn. He placed a meek hand in the air, like an uncertain child. "Uh... I heard that we get citizenship if we serve our term. That true?" The smuggler sounded hopeful, though Erard knew that few were likely to survive combat. He worried mostly for himself. Three prisoners were not likely to put up a fight against barbarians, men who had been training for combat for years. Well-fed men at that. He would have to keep an eye on himself. |
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 3:29:09 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Nov 29, 2016 6:59:50 GMT -8
Jean nodded at the first two responses, knowing that their first encounter with battle could change that. He suppressed a laugh at the last man's method of asking a question, this wasn't a schoolyard.
"Yeah, that's true. If you survive. You may get a bit of land for a farm or something like that if you do well."
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Erard Duval
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: 22
Physical Description: Standing at a modest 5'10", Erard has a set of alert, grey eyes that catch the light not unlike pools of mercury. A full crown of jet black hair, can be seen sprouting from above his delicate ears, which falls down into a tied tail that sits behind his head so as not to get into the way. A dainty nose sits nicely above a naturally small and often closed mouth, and below that, a sharp and narrow chin ends his delicate face. Wispy sideburns and a set of facial hair frames the rest of his face. He carries himself in such a way that makes him a little rough, and he lives up to much of the expectations one might have from studying his appearance.
His body is lithe, though tight muscles indicate some level of training with a weapon, or a previous life of manual labour. As his skin carries a tan, it is easy to imagine that he spends a lot of his time outdoors. A large scar runs down his face, from the forehead and across his right eye.
Clothes and Equipment: Erard's wardrobe is rudimentary, and he owns little, if anything for himself. A set of dark tunics woven in cloth fall down towards a single, brown belt that fastens a set of large breeches. On his feet are two large riding boots that look rather out of place with the rest of his equipment, and give him the look of a cavalryman, though he is most certainly not one. A long weathered coat covers the whole ensemble, granting him the appearance of an odd noble mercenary, or a farmer playing noble dress-up, whichever way you look at it.
Oddly, attached to his belt is a well-dressed arming sword, with a silver-adorned scabbard inlaid with copper eagles. It isn't too flashy, but definitely something far too expensive for Erard to own. It's either an heirloom, or he stole it in combat, though he has never really spoken about it.
Player's online availability : Weekdays: 12:00 - 20:00 // Weekends: 10:00 - 16:00, 20:00 - 24:00
Registered: Nov 28, 2016 2:41:34 GMT -8
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Post by Erard Duval on Nov 30, 2016 1:02:08 GMT -8
Culle and Danyn both shared the same expression as their eyes met. They tipped their heads to the side, nodding with a deliberate slowness. An attempt to play off what they had just heard in a casual way, most likely.
"S'pose tha's all I can ask for." Culle remarked.
It was rare, Erard noted, for a prisoner to survive the chopping block, and even harder for them to survive a stretch in prison. A plot of land in Gauldin was one of the best deals a horse thief and a smuggler could get. Erard almost found himself drawn along with the idea too, though thankfully he brought with him a heavy deal of cynicism, too. The land would probably be remote, and the soil would most likely be near barren. All of the good plots had long ago been taken by the crown, and the average ones below that were most likely under the control of the nobles. If the land so happened to be good, it was most likely in a dangerous area, or even worse, probably stolen from another country in war.
Erard let out a snort at the idea, and put himself to task looking around for any other apparent volunteers for this suicide mission. |
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 3:29:09 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Nov 30, 2016 7:37:55 GMT -8
"The land is, of course, land taken during our fighting with the barbarians. Rumor has it that the lands south of the forest are rich and fertile. The barbarians grow strong off of what is grown on them, so it can't be all bad."
He chuckled and gestured to where more men were getting ready to march. Already his brother's battalion was beginning their march out of camp, and Jean's wpuld not be far behind them.
"You will be handed 3-days rations on your way out, I suggest you make them count. Any further questions gentlemen?"
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Erard Duval
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: 22
Physical Description: Standing at a modest 5'10", Erard has a set of alert, grey eyes that catch the light not unlike pools of mercury. A full crown of jet black hair, can be seen sprouting from above his delicate ears, which falls down into a tied tail that sits behind his head so as not to get into the way. A dainty nose sits nicely above a naturally small and often closed mouth, and below that, a sharp and narrow chin ends his delicate face. Wispy sideburns and a set of facial hair frames the rest of his face. He carries himself in such a way that makes him a little rough, and he lives up to much of the expectations one might have from studying his appearance.
His body is lithe, though tight muscles indicate some level of training with a weapon, or a previous life of manual labour. As his skin carries a tan, it is easy to imagine that he spends a lot of his time outdoors. A large scar runs down his face, from the forehead and across his right eye.
Clothes and Equipment: Erard's wardrobe is rudimentary, and he owns little, if anything for himself. A set of dark tunics woven in cloth fall down towards a single, brown belt that fastens a set of large breeches. On his feet are two large riding boots that look rather out of place with the rest of his equipment, and give him the look of a cavalryman, though he is most certainly not one. A long weathered coat covers the whole ensemble, granting him the appearance of an odd noble mercenary, or a farmer playing noble dress-up, whichever way you look at it.
Oddly, attached to his belt is a well-dressed arming sword, with a silver-adorned scabbard inlaid with copper eagles. It isn't too flashy, but definitely something far too expensive for Erard to own. It's either an heirloom, or he stole it in combat, though he has never really spoken about it.
Player's online availability : Weekdays: 12:00 - 20:00 // Weekends: 10:00 - 16:00, 20:00 - 24:00
Registered: Nov 28, 2016 2:41:34 GMT -8
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Post by Erard Duval on Nov 30, 2016 8:28:18 GMT -8
If there were any further concerns, none of the men in front of Jean voiced them. The larger one, Culle, decided upon stretching himself a little. It seemed like an out of place gesture, somewhat unnecessary. A way to psych himself up, or another way of pushing forward the image of manliness that the meathead had been trying to maintain since leaving prison, Erard mused. It didn't matter. Culle didn't impose upon anyone else, which was enough for his presence to be tolerated by the other two.
Danyn, was mostly the same. They had had little time to familiarise themselves with each other, and at the campfire during the nights on the march, they had often spent time talking about the past, about themselves. Erard watched the man with a sidelong glance as he fiddled with a pair of moccasins where the thread had given way, and the soles were hanging. Not exactly the best footwear for combat, but they would have to suffice, up until the point he was able to loot something better off the barbarians. Or until an axe wound to the head relieved him of the need to.
Erard unfastened his sword belt, and then wrapped it around himself once more, tighter. He'd never been in a battle before, but if it was anything like bar brawls and scraps in the village fields, he needed every advantage he could get. A loose shoe, a flapping sword belt. Anything that could get him killed was bad. After he had finished dressing himself, he turned to Jean with a nod.
"Ready to go." He remarked, in Gauldish, "I hope you've got my back. Name's Erard. Erard Duval. Yours?"
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 3:29:09 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Nov 30, 2016 10:34:20 GMT -8
"Jean Soult. And you watch my back, I lead from the front."
He led the way back to their part of the encampment and the battalion was ready to follow the other one.
<Exit, I will post and tag everyone into the next thread hopefully in a few hours>
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