Private The invasion of the Damned

[Mini Mongo]

Geran stiffened and went more serious, he knew what Edwyn thought, and he would answer.
''I'm going to be honest with you friend. For years me and Cyrus have known such days would come, a man always dies in his life, we knew this Plague would strike, and this is infact the reason why we created this Guild. We are a defense against the Undead, the Plague that could take us all, and we are the only ones who know how to stop it. Meridia has the ability to create a magical border between anything, but one must pray to her hidden shrine, such shrines are located across all of Tamriels borders for whenever the time come, I along with Cyrus am the only one who knows where it is located. For all of you to survive, one must stay in the border, a sacrifice for Meridia to have reason for her to use such power, and I shall be that sacrifice. Unless you have another idea, then you must go along with such things.''

Geran then stood walking out of the room as he heard knocking and shouting from the door, it sounded like the Jester, usually a smile would be upon Geran's face, but he wasn't exactly in a happy mood.
He went to the door as he let the Jester in ''We heard you friend, seems you got drunk, follow me I shall show you to your place of sleeping.''
Geran led the Jester to the Witchers room, the man merely falling on his bed Geran walked out and went down the hall to his room, Edwyn and Cyrus were gone.
Geran locked the door as he got in a more comfortable piece of clothing, laying on his bed he began to read a book about the prophecies of Meridia, and eventually found the invasion of the Damned.

It was crazy to think Geran was living in such a crazed bloodthirsty world, the next few days would be tough, he would save as many as possible, then put the border between Skyrim and all it's surroundings down, so to say.
Geran thought about what he had done in his life, nothing had truly ever gone on, he had quite a plain life really.
He read the book, eventually finishing it quite quickly he put it down on his side table, closing it.
He laid down for a moment, not saying nor doing anything, merely staring at the wall above him.
He then closed his eyes as he entered the land of dreams, a more safe place than Nirn for anyone.

 

[lbrasz44]

Entering his room, Thorral fell onto his bed exhausted. The pain was still there, the headache was still there. Gingerely sitting up, Thorral proceeded to remove his armour and lie down. He knew he wouldn't have good night of sleep; he never does. But resting for once is a welcomed luxury. Staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the situation at hand Thorral's mind drifts off to his old home...

Ten years... The snow always falling and the fires always burning, Windhelm was a fine place to live even if it seemed like a cramped, dim city. Thorral was supposed to be one of the finest soldiers for the Stormcloaks. Fighting for freedom and against the tryanny of the Thalmor, the cause looked just. Can't believe I was so blind... The Dark Elves were good people, trustworthy and friendly. But it didn't matter for the other Nords.
........................................................................................................................................................
Outfitted in the Stormcloak armour, it was his first week in the force. He was sent to patrol the Grey Quarter which seemed easy enough. It was until he approached a fellow officer at the corner club, talking to the owner. The problem was that the owner was in debt for something... not for the bar, it was some bullpl*ps that Thorral couldn't remember. The officer started to beat the man, and ordered Thorral to kill him in order to send a message to the other Elves that lived in the area. "No... I won't" The officer continued to shout at Thorral saying it was an order. Thorral still refused. Knowing he can't seem to his commands across, the officer unsheathed his sword prepared to strike down the Dunmer. Thats when it went hazy.

All Thorral could remember of the incident was that the officer's blood was on his blade and hands. He realized what the rebellions true face was but there was no way he could convince the others to see. The city, his family, everyone disowned him for betraying the stormcloaks and Skyrim. It became clear that Thorral could never return there.
........................................................................................................................................................
A few months ago, hearing the news of the Legion defeating the Stormcloaks and leaving Windhelm almost in ruins, Thorral couldn't help but feel happy that the true evil was gone but... Thorral still felt some sort of shame for not helping his home city and his family. The city does have a chance to rebuild once more though, however that may never happen...

Sitting up on his bed, Thorral knew what move he would need to make soon...

He needs to return home.

 

[Star Gazer]

The Jester awoke from a deep slumber from the creaking of a bed. He opened his eyes slightly, still giving the impression of being asleep, yet still being able to see. One of the men was moaning in his sleep. He saw the man sit up in his bed instantly. "Did you have a bad dream, boy? Your midnight screaming has started to annoy." He asked, still pretending to be asleep.

 

[lbrasz44]

Thorral quickly turned his head to the voice. Apparently the Jester was accepted into the guild after all despite his antics.

"Did you have a bad dream, boy? Your midnight screaming has started to annoy." Thorral didn't even realize that he was causing noise from the flashback he just had. "Err, what? Oh, its nothing. Nothing at all Jester. Still hurtin' a bit from that werewolf. Lucky shot..."

Moving his 6'5, 240 lb frame to lie back down, Thorral continued his pondering, thinking of Windhelm and what he could do to use his desire to return and keep it in guild matters.

 

[The_Madgod]

Sal-Dus woke up from his meditation to the sound of screaming and falling on a bed. He opened one eye and saw a Nord, Thorral, screaming in his sleep. He got up and the Jester, who had apparently been accepted, said, "Did you have a bad dream, boy? Your midnight screaming has started to annoy." The Nord replied, saying, "Err, what? Oh, its nothing. Nothing at all Jester. Still hurtin' a bit from that werewolf. Lucky shot..." The Nord laid back down. Sal-Dus closed his one open eye, breathed in deeply, breathed out, and went back to meditating. He reviewed all he knew about the undead and decided he would need to train quite a bit harder the next day.

 

[Star Gazer]

The Jester rolled from his side onto his back. He stared up at the wooden ceiling. "So many things that we've been through, but I still don't know what you do!" He said, raising his voice at the end to make sure nobody got a good night's rest.

 

[The_Madgod]

Sal-Dus opened his eye again. The Jester appeared to be trying to keep everyone wake. Sal-Dus went back to meditating, forcing himslef to ignore all sound.

 

[Mini Mongo]

Geran awoke, his eyes shooting open, he yawned and stretched before getting out of bed.
He rubbed his eyes, his vision blurring for a moment as he looked out of his window, the light extending into his room.
By the look of the sunlight, it was around 8am, which was actually rather late for Geran, he usually awoke around 6-7am, which was merely because he liked to have the element of surprise during his attacks.
He stood up, pausing for a moment, his legs aching, I suppose it was merely because of the long day they had yesterday, he was still thinking about the Undead.
He got into his gear, putting on his clothes he wore under his Leather armor first.

First he put on his shirt, trousers and socks, very comfortable and warm considering their thermal effect.
Then he began to put on his leather armor, putting on his trousers first, tightening all the straps he had added for a more comfortable and tight hold on his leg.
Then his puts, pulling the straps as hard as possible, but not to tight to stop blood flowing through his legs, which could cause fainting, a formidable enemy in battle.
Then his leather top, tightening all straps, putting his belt around his trousers and adding his satchel.

He then finally put his hood over his head, and the cloak he wore over the armor, causing him to be even warmer, and providing better sneaking capabilities and remaining incognito.
He got his key out of his satchel and unlocked the door, closing it and locking it straight behind him, he did not bother with to big of a breakfast, and walked into the dining hall.
It appeared no one was awake, probably because they were incredibly tired from the previous day, no surprise to be fair.
Geran starting tucking into the food which was on the table, clearly the maids were tired to as not much was prepared, better than nothing though.

A Guild member then walked in, apparently after bathing as they were very clean, they seemed completely fine and un-aware of the situation he and his Witchers had encountered.
''Good morning.'' Geran said, in a calm tone.
''Lord Geran'' he replied, saluted him as he took a seat ''Your up rather late may I say.''
''Aye I am, we encountered some problems yesterday. I contract was halted twice, first we were attacked, then when we did the contract we found out some bad news. I shall explain in a moment, but after such events we lost that god dam Jester, luckily the drunken fool found his way back.'' he replied, cutting of the hole situation for a moment.

''So, what exactly happened while doing the contract may I ask?'' the Guild member asked, a soft tone reaching his voice as well.
''Well it's a long story cut short. But basically, the entire family was murdered by two Zombies, but not just the family, the waiter and a friend. It turns out these Zombies were not controlled by Necromancers, but by themselves, they were infected with a plague.
Now we have taken one of the Zombies with this new 'plague' to Whiterun for investigating, I shall check on him today. But be aware my friend, this is not over, I fear the end of Skyrim is upon us, perhaps even Nirn.''
The Guild member stayed silent, staring at Geran before they started to eating, saying nothing or even exchanging looks with Geran.
Geran realized what he said was abit blunt, but you can't blame him, he was knackered.

 

[meben15]

Jaygue woke in the morning to see light shining through the small window in his room. He was confused for a moment as to why he wasn't wearing his armor, and quickly reached for Blightfire to make sure it was still there. He relaxed a little when his hand touched the cold metal pommel of his katana. Sitting up he wiped a hand across his face, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and flexing his muscles as he examied the impresive range of bruises ranging across his body. He got up from his bed, taking a clean black cotton shirt out of his closet and putting it on before wandering over to the bathing room. Not many were in yet, either that or they had already left, and Jaygue stood before one of the mirrors as he shaved and lessened the ache in his muscles with a steady stream of magical energy. When he was done he took a quick swim in the bath and went back to his room to retrieve his armor.

Many of the guildmembers looked at him funny as he walked by as most had never seen him out of his armor, Jaygue ignored them. He arrived back at his room and quickly suited up, closely examining his chainmail to make sure it had not suffered any damage in the battle the day before. Luckily the Ebony links were strong and had not so much as bent. It was fortunate as reparing ebony was quite expensive.

Fully dressed and armored with his blade at his side Jaygue walked out into the common hall, taking his usual bowl of nasty tasting gruel from their cook. As a Senior member of the guild Jaygue was entitled to the better foods but he never ate them, he never took any enjoyment out of eating as some did.

He saw Geran sitting at one of the tables by himself and sat down across from him. Speaking softly he asked the guildmaster, "Have you told them yet?" refering to the other guildmembers. He had not though that Geran may have had said something important after he left the meeting.

 

[Star Gazer]

The Jester sat awake, as he had yesterday, the day before, and the day yet. He had never been able to sleep when aware of his surroundings. Usually, when a problematic situation would arise, he was loose and calm, but when calmness is required, he found himself lacking it. Sleep is not something that came easily to The Jester, making him mostly a night owl. He could only find the peace of sleep while under stress, or the night before a battle. He watched as a few of the guild-members arose from their beds, stretching and yawning, but stopping in their tracks when they realize that The Jester is and has been watching them. Few give snarling looks, but most just leave the room immediately. After the guild had left, The Jester stood. He had not bathed, but hadn't broken a sweat the day before.

He walked down the long hall, bells ringing as the natural force of gravity acted on them. He made his way to the great dining hall, stopping to see what the guild had in store for him in the way of breakfast. He grinned as he saw the bubbling disgrace of what seemed to be morning stew. He dismissed the cook and made his way to the bench where Geran and Jaygue, The Jester's favorite, was sitting. He fell onto the wooden bench next to the quiet man, sure to make enough noise to cause a scene. He held his eating-knife in his hand tightly, as if to never let go. He looked at both of the men. "Ah, what a wonderful sleep there was to be had! I still hope you aren't quite mad. Thanks for letting this place be my home, and leaving it's rooms free to roam!"

 

[lbrasz44]

Another night, another restless sleep. It has been going on for so long that Thorral doesn't even get affected by it anymore. Sitting up on his bed, he proceeded to put on his armour and made his way down to the dining hall to eat. Chances are the group will head back to Whiterun to check on the infected and see if there was anything to take note of.

Surely the rest of the guild will be told of the events that had happened the day before and will prepare accordingly. This is clearly a case that all of Skyrim would have to be warned of, perhaps all of Tamriel. There is no telling on how serious this plague would become in the long run but anything involving the Daedra is something to take heed of.

Sitting down at the table next to the other main guild members, Thorral looked down at the breakfast before him. It certainly wasn't anything like the feast a couple days ago.

 

[The_Madgod]

Sal-Dus woke up at the crack of dawn. He stepped out of his bed and looked around the quarters. Nearly everyone was still asleep, not surprisingly, Thorral and the Jester were included. He donned any armor he had not worn to sleep and walked into the dining hall. A couple of Guild Members where there, but most appeared to still be asleep. The Tsaesci sat and grabbed some bread and an apple. He ate them queitly and slowly, thinking of how to change his tactics to defeat something that couldn't feel fear. Eventually he decided he would just have to quickly dispatch every one of them. He got up and walked to the training room. There, he grabbed his own padded katana and began slicing at the necks of the mannequins.

More of the guild woke up. Thorral, Geran, Jayque, the annoying Jester, and entered the mess hall. Sal-Dus decided that it would be better if he were to eat there with them. He entered the room and grabbed a sweetroll. The Tsaesci began to awkwardly chat with another guild member. Eventually he gave up on talking and decided to walk into the courtyard to meditate on the situation. He walked through the halls, thinking, "How does anyone know how to walk through these halls without getting lost?" Finally he reached the breathtaking courtyard. He walked through the flowers and bushes, eventually reaching the center of the courtyard. He sat in front of a fountan and began his meditation on fighting styles.

 

[cazzer14]

Cyrus' eyes forced themselves open, almost reluctantly, as his body informed his mind that it had had more than enough sleep. His vision only consisted of the bedsheets and sunlight, as he had slept face down, exhausted from the previous day. He slowly, tiredly lifted himself up and flipped himself around so his back was on the bed. He looked around his room, cranky and still half asleep.

His room had that boyish stink in it, and so he stumbled over to the window and opened it, looking out over the view of the snowy mountains, the sun blazing over the ice, right above in the centre of the sky. 'The centre of the... plops'. Cyrus thought to himself. It was almost noon, if it wasn't already, he had overlaid. Most of the Guild, such as Jaygue, the lizard-man-thing and Geran almost always awoke at, or near dawn. It was force of habit for soldiers, who often had to be alert early in the day.

Not Cyrus though. No, he was like the same teenage rascal he was in his earlier years, lounging in his bed until he was either forced to get up, or he got bored of sleeping, only now had more aches due to the knocks he takes in combat. He had probably missed Breakfast, so he decided it would be best to go straight to the kitchen and cook or prepare some food for himself. He liked cooking. He didn't have much time for it, but he always enjoyed the times he does, and he wasn't all that bad a cook either.

An elder in his bandit clan, conveniently named 'Meaty John', had taught Cyrus to cook. John had been a chef for the Emperor or something, and apparently he killed the rest of his fellow chefs in a violent rage when he found out there was no seasoning left, so the stories told. Whilst his skills were nothing compared to the talents of his mentor, Cyrus was brought up to be a decent cook, and could still remember the delicious recipe of 'Meaty John's vension and skeever surprise stew' pretty well.

Cyrus put on his armour that he couldn't remember stripping off the night before and headed straight for the kitchen. The maids and chefs gave him a curious glance as they saw him enter, and all stood to attention, awaiting orders or important words from him. After all, why would such a high ranking member of the Brotherhood be in the kitchen?

After assuring them that he was here just to cook some food for himself, they all relaxed. One maid came up to him, and asked if he wanted someone else to cook it for him, but he insisted that he wanted to cook the food himself, to which she gave a strange, confused look at him. Cyrus merely shrugged, explaining to her that he "Likes to cook sometimes." and "It's therapeutic and counteracts all of the undead slaying", before giving her a warm smile. She left with one the same, and seemed surprised to the fact that one of the mighty band of demon killers likes to do something so menial as cooking his own food.

Cyrus took a quick look at the ingredients cupboard, and decided that his form of brunch would include bacon, scrambled eggs, sweet pastries, porridge, black pudding and a sweetroll. After gathering the ingredients, he fried the bacon, and cooked the eggs, porridge and black pudding before carrying a tray with his meal through to his room. He would go the the dining hall, but everyone was probably gone by now, and the servants would be cleaning up after breakfast.

He returned to his room, and after requesting that a member open his door for him and subsequently thanking her, he placed the tray on his desk, and sat down on the chair. He looked over his food, content with its appearance, and even more so with the tantalising smell. He picked up his cutlery, and thought about the situation that the Brotherhood find themselves in, indeed all of Tamriel finds iteself in.

What would come of the next few days? How far had the plague gotten already? Was that family the only infected one? Had a zombified servant escaped unnoticed, and infected others?

Cyrus feared that his many questions could only be answered with bad news. He placed a bit of bacon in his mouth with his fork, and, as he chewed, he pondered the most important question of all.

Could this plague be stopped?

Cyrus turned this question over in his mind, and a series of emotions, thoughts and feelings went over in his head as he ate. Hope, this plague could be stopped, they could do it, there has to be a way. Pessimism, but what if it couldn't? What if they failed? Remorse, What of the families that would die? How many people would become one of the undead? Curiosity, What reason did Molag Bal and Peryite have to unleash a plague of this scale? Was it just blind hunger for chaos and death of mortals? Or something more? Why undead?

And then hope again. And then, as he finished his meal, he thought over what Geran had said in the War Room the night before. He was going to sacrifice himself to save Nirn, should the need arise. Cyrus understood the reason, he and Geran had previously talked it over, the decision was already made, and Geran would not be convinced otherwise.

Some of the other Witchers may ask, even history itself may ask why didn't Geran simply tell someone else of the location of the shrine and get some willing volunteer, a lesser man to sacrifice himself, instead of someone as important as Geran?

It wasn't as simple as that. Meridia would only accept a sacrifice worthy to her in her eyes. She had selected Geran and Cyrus as two of them, the only ones she had named. Any other individuals, and she would refuse; Meridia would not use someone she deemed unworthy, and she wouldn't create this barrier to ward the undead from this realm. Only either Cyrus or Geran must sacrifice themselves, no other.

Cyrus thought about losing his friend, his mentor. He had been through years with Geran, so many stories shared between them, so many memories. And so many more that could be had, diminished. The guild would be leaderless, left for Cyrus and Edwyn, and possibly Jaygue to fight over the responsibility. It simply wouldn't be the same. Nirn wouldn't be the same for Cyrus if Geran were to leave it.

But then Cyrus remembered that Geran's sacrifice is the worst case scenario, if the Witchers and other defenders of Tamriel failed to stop this undead menace. And Cyrus was going to make sure that that scenario wouldn't happen.

He laid back in his comfortable, padded chair and relaxed for a while. If the Guild was to go anywhere or do something important, someone would come and get him. For now though, he relaxed.

 

[MissingOne123]

Ambrosia sat on the mattress, legs out and her book in her hands. She read, her eyes moving along the page closest to her face. She hummed idly, her chin slightly moving as she moved onto the next page of words. She chewed at her lip, eyebrows knit in concentration.

"A plague..." She thought silently, musing over the new information. "A plague that turns mortals into undead. How interesting." Snorting, she leaned back against the bed frame, glancing up at the ceiling. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little worried about the safety of Skryim, and perhaps even Tamriel if it spread quick enough. Letting out a breath, she closed her eyes and mumbled to herself. The guild would be able to handle it. It wasn't as if these zombies were any more stronger than a pack of werewolves, and the group had handled that well, considering the fact a group of bandits had ambushed them moments before the attack. And with the long list of undead killed each member had, experience was on their side. The guild was skilled and capable. Worse come to worse, the guild would loose a few members in the battles to come, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make if it meant keeping the civilians of Skyrim safe.

The elf gave a small nod to no one but herself and gently closed her book before sliding it beneath her bed once more before rolling over to stare at the wall. There was still the issue of the mace- That rusted, old weapon Edwyn had found and Geran insisted on bringing with them to the brotherhood's headquarters. There must be some significance to it. Some importance. Perhaps it was somehow tied to the outbreak? She closed her eyes again, lost in thought.

 

[Mini Mongo]

Geran tucked into his food as Jaygue walked in, taking a seat near Geran.
The food was okay but did not match up to what they had only a few days ago.
All that went through his mind was what he was going to have to do to save Skyrim, he was going to sacrifice himself, no it was not the general fact of him sacrificing himself that got his mind, but that he had never even known all his family.
The closest to his family had always been Cyrus after his brothers died, when the Guild was introduced that was his family and his life.

He finally replied to Jaygue ''Aye I have, and they better get training.'' he said calmy, finally in a more normal mood for Geran, you could tell by the look on Jaygues face he was rather surprised that Geran was so calm, in such a weird, dangerous and crazy realm.
Geran finished up his food, the lower Guild mates began rushing down the food and ran to the training room, Geran heard the swords smash against eachover during training, a good yet bad sign.
Good because it means they have good defense, bad because it means they have a weak attack, and against Zombies you wanted precise good attacks, not defense.

Geran finished his food and went from the table, giving a slight nod to Jaygue as he went out of the Dining hall, a strange design that it was right next to the entrance.
Geran was walking through the halls as he caught site of Cyrus, he looked rather glum but did not catch sight of Geran, at the moment he had to decide who he would give his guild over to.
To most people it would be simple, the Co-Founder Cyrus, but Geran needed to go by loyalty, strength, skill and will.
He opened the door to his room, sitting at his desk he took a piece of parchment and his ink pen. Thinking for a moment he wasn't sure what to write, but in the end it was a obvious decision.
He picked up his pen, dipping it in ink, before starting he got a cup of coffee, putting in next to the parchment.
He took a few gulps, the mug already only half filled, apparently Geran was rather thirsty.
He finally began writing, thinking very carefully about what he was to write.

If you have found this note, then I'm probably gone, moved on from the land of the living to join are great matron Meridia in the afterlife.
Many of you have wondered who shall become the new leader of the Guild, and that is a hard decision for me. I have either sacrificed myself by now, or fell by the hands of some undead scum, I hope you have already avenged me.
All of you, the entire Guild have been as if family to me, I never knew my family but always hoped I have, if you can find them I will greatly appreciate it.
Now of to me and onto the Guild, first of all a few promotions are in order, the Witchers all must vote for new Witchers to join your ranks, that way you won't have empty spaces, train them well.
Then of course you must have a new Lesser Master, after much consideration this decision seems easy for me, I give such a rank to my greatest Witcher. A man of no fear, no pain, no emotions and pure hatred for the Undead. A man that has served me since the start of this Guild. Jaygue, you are to be the new Lesser Master.
Though this may almost seem as a burden to you their is no choice in the matter, you are a great fighter and tactician, though bored by politics, but don't worry, the new Grand Master shall have to deal with such boring things.
Now onto the new Grand Master, the new Saint of Meridia, and Guild Master. Such a decision is to hard for me, and instead I lay it down to you, the Guild to vote, shall it be Edwyn or Cyrus? Two very good and powerful men, able to strike fear into anyone.
Yes I know this may be a excuse of a will, but I was never one for decisions, good luck on the Guild my friends.
Meridia bless you.

With the note done Geran took another gulp of his Coffee, he then pushed the candlestick down as he entered the War room, he walked in as he looked at Meridia.
He walked up to his Patrons statue, pushing it to the right showing a wall, Geran went against the wall placing his shoulder up to it, and with all his might pushed.
The Wall was pushed back until their was enough space for Geran to walk through.
He pushed the wall to the left leaving enough room for him to walk past, revealing a huge library underneath the very Guild.
He went up to a stone table right at the back of the room, placing the parchment onto the table.

He turned around as he walked out of the secret Library, pulling the wall back in it's original location, almost as if nothing happened.
He then pushed the Statue of Meridia back to the left, covering the wall, well hidden for sure.
Walking out of the War room he pushed the candlestick back up as the wall to the war room closed up, finally Geran unlocked his door, walking out and locking it back again, making his way to the training room.
The journey took perhaps 5 minutes he reached the training room, many recruits, members, raiders and above were training, clearly knowing what lied ahead of them.
A lot of the members were doing well, but some were doing simply terrible, not even able to do a effective strike.
Geran sighed as he began to shout out ''Jaygue, Cyrus, Edwyn, get over here!''

 

[cazzer14]

Cyrus had heard Geran's shouting echo in the hallways, the sound forcing itself through many walls and doors in order for Cyrus to hear it. Upon hearing his name mentioned, he instantly opened his eyes, always alert for such a call. As far as he could tell from the tone and emotion behind Geran's voice, it wasn't a matter of emergency, merely a rally of minor necessity.

Cyrus rose to his feet, pushing himself off of the seat with his hands on his knees, and headed out of the door, shutting it behind him. He walked along the hallways, in the direction of where he deduced the source of the cry to be. As he strolled the corridors, he figured that Geran must be in the sparring room, overlooking the recruits and other ranks train.

As far as he could tell, he was the first of the three summoned by Geran to arrive, and as he walked into the room, consisting of several inanimate dummies (with a few living ones also present), several Witchers and other ranks, equipment, weapons and blood, sweat and tears soaked into the floorboards.

Cyrus leaned against the near wall with his forearm, and questioned Geran quietly, so the recruits couldn't hear what he was saying over the noises of clanging swords and tiring gasps.

"Problem with the rookies?"

 

[Skyrimosity]

Edwyn had been in the training room, preparing some of the lesser members for battle. He was teaching them all about offense, showing them how to use your opponents defense to make it your offense. He demonstrated with one of the men and, after picking the man up off the ground and letting him regain his thoughts, watched the members try to copy. Most of them were unable to understand the maneuver but hope filled Edwyn's eyes whenever an occasional member managed to copy the skill. Edwyn had been teaching them some more offensive moves and reminding the members that a shield is as much a weapon as a sword when he heard Geran shout. Edwyn walked up calmly and said to Geran "These newer members may not be our strongest, but at least now they'll be able to kill something before it kills them. So, what is it you need?

 

[MissingOne123]

Ambrosia jumped, startled by Geran's sudden shout ringing through the walls. She groaned, rolling over and opened her eyes. Glancing around the room, she sat up and rubbed at her face, groggy from being awoken from the light sleep she had fallen into.

The sound of metal against metal and muffled voices filled her ears. The training room was in use, no doubt. So much for sleeping. Grumbling, she stood from the bed and stretched her arms, shifting her weight from one stiff leg to the other. She ran her hands through her shortly cropped hair. The room was empty except for a handful of sleeping rookies, deep in slumber and snoring lightly, oblivious and ignorant. She rolled her eyes at them, shaking her head as she walked out of the room. You always needed to be on your toes and ready for an ambush, and if you couldn't wake up when Geran shouted as he had, then chances are you'd be the first to be killed if the mansion they lived in was ever under attack.

Muttering to herself, Ambrosia continued down the hall. Despite not actually being called, her curiosity got the better of her, and soon she was standing in the doorway to the training room, looking on as weapons clashed and attacks were blocked. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms, turning her attention to where Cyrus, Edwyn and Geran had gathered.

 

[meben15]

Jaygue nodded seriously at Geran's response. It was good the others knew they were in for some hard times. As they were finishing their meals Jaygue heard the ringing of bells. He looked behind him to see the Jester! Muttering a silent curse Jaygues skin crawled as the insane man sat down next to him, proclaiming what a good rest he had.

As Geran got up and left Jaygue muttered to the Jester, "yes, glad you got such nice rest." He hurriedly finished his food and took the bowl back up to the cook. While Jaygue didn't like the fact that Geran had adopted the man into their ranks he seemed to have proven his trust in the battle with the werewolves. Jaygue still didn't like him but he would not let that get in the way of his profession.

With breakfast finished Jaygue left the dinning hall and went for a walk to the front door of the keep. He peered out off the arrow slit in the side of one of the towers, viewing the cold quiet landscape. It easy to think the entire world was already dead.

He then headed towards the training rooms, performing sparring exercises always calmed him. As he got to the entrance of the recruit quarters He heard Gerans voice ecoing through the castle, summoning Jaygue and the two lesser masters. He looked into the recruit quarters to see several of the men still sleeping soundly. Frowning he walked in, giving each of them a swift smack on the head as he went by, "Get up, you have slept enough. Go to the training room." One of the men was about to protest, but was silenced as Jaygue gave him an icey stare.

He passed by Ambrosia on his way out and gave here a respectful nod, she was a good warrior, one he respected, the recruits he knew were young but he had a hard time empathizing with some of thier lazy ways.

As Jaygue entered the training room he imidiatly saw Geran standing off to the side with Cyrus and Edwyn. He quickly strode over to the three, saluting them. "Sorry about that, some of the recruits were still sleeping." He looked over at the four bashful looking men as they entered the room.

 

[lbrasz44]

Finishing the breakfast, Thorral made his way to the training room. Recruits were training as usual, and having nothing to do, Thorral decided to join them.

"Remember to always have a good base so you will have some sort of balance when you swing. Weak foot forward if you are going for a swing; Strong foot forward if you are goin' for lunge or a stab."

"Be sure to have your opponent reacting instead of attacking."

"No, no... if you do that you"ll be the one whose dead not the other guy."

The new recruits show promise, but are in need of quick improvement. The head trainer seemed to agree on this idea as well. The resources and natural talent are all there, but its up to them to capitalize on it. Meanwhile the other recruits that have been around longer are doing well. There will be at least a couple soon who will replace the remaining spots as Witchers for the guild. Thorral would remain training at least until Geran had decided to order a task to be done.