|
#76
|
||||||
|
||||||
|
As she digs, she Assist Sapper Dice Roll:
|
|
#77
|
|||||
|
|||||
|
As the Marines dig in, a small pelting of rain begins, turning the dirt to mud. Perfect. And then, as they finished their trench, suddenly the wait began. The last light left the scene and the snores from the camp were just close enough to be heard over the night. It was difficult not to fall into stiff silence under these conditions, but each soldier had been warned during training if not since of the dangers of falling asleep. Slowly, the small puffy clouds turned into an overcast which blotted out the stars slow wheel. Feverfew cannot really think of any place in particular for her talents, since she does not know exactly where or even if the enemy would approach from.
__________________ |
|
#78
|
||||||
|
||||||
|
Kindle had crouched down behind the little wall they had built. He hated the rain. He didnt want to lie down or anything, because that would only get him colder then he was already. He had his crossbow held in both hands, and a few quarrels sticking in the mud at his side. He had mashers at his belt, and was waiting to try out the munition he had buried. The only thing that was bothering him was the damned rain. He had no idea if he would be able to light up the greased slope if it came to it.
__________________He yearned to try it, someone had to right? No use not being able to rely on the things when it came to it. And it would also be warmer. He was already half opening his warren, when he suppressed the urge, for once. At least the grease and the rain should make it extremely slippery. |
|
#80
|
|||||
|
|||||
|
In the slight patter of rain, it is difficult to hear much, and the squad is distracted by the usual boredom of the watch. Kindle, however catches a glint of armor at the far edge of the torchlight, over 100 feat away. The unlit torches at their position have not given the squad away, but surely will if they are lit. As it is, they most likely have a slightly harder time spotting the squad because of the trenches, however, they must be expecting some sort of picket around the torchlight.
__________________ |
|
#81
|
||||||
|
||||||
|
Feverfew sits in her spot, the fingers of one hand absently stirring a bit of chalk into the growing mud. She creates symbols that slowly melt into oblivion with water trickling outward in thin orange channels. Seti signs for good luck, for placating the spirits. Feverfew can only remember a handful of them; the rest she makes up on her own. Occasionally she looks up at the others as they groan and mutter in the light rainfall, but most of the time she focuses on her ritual.
__________________ |
|
#82
|
||||||
|
||||||
|
Spotting the armor, Kindle held up a hand for his squad, signalling he had seen something. Let's just hope it's something real, otherwise I've made a jerk out of myself.
__________________At the same time he whispered to Feverfew, who was doodling beside him: "Saw something. Pass the word. Try to separate them somehow with your warren if they try to swarm us. Wait till we have 5 or 6 out in the open before doing anything, we want to surprise them. Signal will be my banger going off." The bangers should get reinforcements in soon enough, and both Feverfew and those bangers should buy us some time. He readied himself, reaching for his warren. He had memorized the place where the bangers where at time and time again. He wanted to let five enemies pass before detonating the banger on the sixth, and just hoped they wouldn't jump the pickets or pass through both openings at once. He wanted to set off both bangers to maximum effect, announcing this nights skirmish with an explosion, and leaving his enemies helpless, stunned with the roaring fury of a confined fire... Kindle licked his lips and concentrated again. Let's see who of the bastards has the bad luck of being number six. |
|
#83
|
||||||
|
||||||
|
Sweets settles down into his trench like it is his second home, heck he probably has spent more time in a trench just like this than in any place you’d call a home. As the darkness settles onto the squad the one eyed marine begins to take out small wooden carvings and placing them on the top lip of the trench across from him. Looking closely the carvings resemble a dog, a badger, a strange squirrel like creature, and a centipede. Sweets handles the carvings with an almost tender care and talks to them like one would a pet. He then sits back and seems to be asleep with his eyes wide open.
__________________As word is passed down the squad of a possible attack, Sweets eases to his feet and peers over the top edge of the trench. He then reaches out and picks up the small wooden badger carving. As the scarred and grizzled man peers into the darkness for sign of the enemy his thumb rubs back and forth across the wooden badger’s head. † |
|
#84
|
||||||
|
||||||
|
Understanding, she pulls a chunk of carved wood from a leather pouch around her neck, then Feverfew nods and drops her chalk. As she bends to pick it up, her warren crackles around her in a faint magenta cast to the air. Her lips move, the words of the warning carrying to the others.
__________________ |
|
#85
|
|||||
|
|||||
|
Obviously wary of the torchlight, the now attentive squad catches the occasional glimmer of light off armor. And then Feverfew heard something disturbing.
__________________Clop. Clop. A horse. Two steps on hard stone. No more. A well trained horse. At this point, it is still unclear if the enemy knew of the squads position. |
|
#86
|
||||||
|
||||||
|
Fingering her wooden carving, Feverfew peers into the darkness. She's ready and a bit disgusted by any lone fool who would attack a group. Unless they were quite powerful...she almost quests out with her warren, but checks herself. No need to draw attention.
__________________ |
|
#87
|
|||||
|
|||||
|
Suddenly a cry; from the darkness, a horse-mounted man in light metal armor charges down the hill, followed by no fewer than 7 plainsmen on foot. They wielded an assortment of bladed weapons, and advanced in a rough line down the hill, walking abreast behind the mounted warrior. Seeing the pickets, the horse rears, but is unable to effectively complete his charge down to the trench, stopping awkwardly in the middle of the torchlight. |
|
#88
|
||||||
|
||||||
|
"Get the rider!" Kindle shouted to his squad. He just hoped that the pigstickers would at least slow or hamper the horse somewhat. Fat luck trying to down the others if we've got a horse trampling around in our midst.
__________________Kindle wished he at least knew who they were facing, it looked like simply anyone living around here was trying to get at the Malazans. He himself pulled out a Masher, he needed the damned explosion now to quickly get reinforcements, and who knew if those damned footsoldiers would not simply jump the pickets. He sighed at the loss of those perfectly planned bangers. Who knew, maybe he could still set them off when they tried to flee. His eyes lit up, while he aimed slightly behind the rider, he licked his lips in expectation and threw the Masher. |
|
#89
|
||||||
|
||||||
|
Init: 20 | HP 8 | AC 12/10/12
As Kindle’s Masher goes off Sweets opens up his warren and in a whisper to the carved wooden badger in his hand calls out a name. Out in the midst of the enemy there appears a small waddling ball of furry fury. The badger attacks the nearest target with a swipe of its claws and a vicious bite.
__________________With a practiced movement the one-eyed marine slips the badger carving back into his belt pouch and picks up a second carving off of the front of the trench. This time it is a small wooden dog. † |
|
#90
|
||||||
|
||||||
|
Feverfew crouches in the trench and grips her bit of carved wood with white knuckles. As the masher goes off and Sweets summons his warren and attacks, she opens her own channel to D'riss.
__________________Magenta stained air swirls around her. She whispers in Seti, a muttered plea to the spirits of the earth before she throws her chunk of wood into the mass of plainsmen. |
![]() |
| Thread Tools | |
|
|