Measurement of Unit

Sweetwater Fields Square


 * The pioneering town of Sweetwater Fields: Young, rather exuberant, and constructed from native materials and imported quarried stone, it grows on a relatively flat grassy sward along Market Road, on the north shore of the Fastheld River.


 * The cobblestone road built through the settlement is made from paving stones delivered from Nillu's Lode. A recently constructed Inn known as the Sunscale Tavern marks the living heart of the expanding township, sharing the commercial square with a somewhat noisy Cookery, an Alchemist's Store (that people seem to give a wide berth), a pristine Temple of the Light, and a somewhat relaxed Farmers Market.


 * Cozy homesteads and cottages expand outwards from this central heart in all directions amidst a handful of stables and barns, built alongside roads that split the township's residential areas into three sectors: Stormclaw Road, Whistlewind Road, and Kilning Road.


 * The Kahar-funded Sweetwater Road runs from the town square towards the east, maintaining an east-west connection between Sweetwater and Eastwatch that intersects with the highway known as Market Road.

The tall, armored form of Norran Lomasa stands outside the Sunscale Tavern, festooned as he is in obsidian platemail, weaponry and Lomasa livery. He's got a tankard of ale in his hand, sipping from it with a pleased grin.

Meanwhile, Vhramis stands outside of the Cookery, engaged in a fairly one sided conversation with either the proprietor, or just an overly excitable patron. The townfolk chatters away happily to the ranger, while Wolfsbane stares blankly at the man.

The small, slightly less-armored form of Syton Temple steps around the corner of the bakery, wrapped up in his cloak like a lowweed cigar. He carries a burlap-padded pinewood staff in one hand, using this less-than-menacing weapon as a walking stick. The young freelander passes a sideways glance to the verbally waylain ranger, then breezes past, headed towards the tavern.

Hoyte and Katriana come trotting into Sweetwater together, and the Nillu pulls up near the stables. She gives a small shiver, sliding down from her horse, and handing the reins off to a waiting boy.

Vhramis continues to be bombarded with various manners of cooking pastries, the ranger unable to get a word in, edgewise. Not that he'd know what to say, anyway. Slowly, he begins to ever so gradually move away from the chattering man.

Norran Lomasa, stationed dutifully in front of the tavern, takes notice of Temple's approach as he takes a sip of his ale. He grins widely, finishing off the ale and tossing the wooden tankard carelessly into a puddle of refuse nearby. "Master Temple! Good you've arrived!" he greets allowed, drawing the claymore sheathed in his baldric to rest it easily against his shoulder as he approaches.

"Your Grace, good evening." Syton replies, raising a hand back to Norran. He approaches the nobleman and offers him a slight smile. "You look as though you're ready to go to war," he says, hoisting his burlap stick for a moment, "whereas I am not likely to do more than make my enemy rather itchy."

The chattering man doesn't seem to notice, or care, that Vhramis is moving away, swiftly switching his attention to another passing individual. Breathing a soft sigh of relief, the ranger turns away and swiftly moves away.

Looking rather solemn, and perhaps also rather anxious, Milora Lomasa steps down from one of the carriages and onto the platform, glancing around the square. Squinting slightly in the poor light, the young woman reaches up with one hand to tuck a thick curl back into her knot.

"I made sure that I'd bring everything I intend to go on this expedition with, Master Temple," answers Norran with a wide grin, affectionately patting the hilt of his claymore. "I asked my cousin to bring along my pack."

Syton nods attentively to Norran as he speaks. The freelander leans onto his staff for a moment and it bends significantly, even under the small man's weight. "That is smart thinking, your Grace," he says. "Expedition preparations aside, I hope all is well with you."

"As well as they're going to be," muses the Lomasa, giving Temple a nod before walking off toward the stables. "I should be back soon enough! Tell Master Nepos as much!" he calls, returning his claymore to his scabbard quickly before rushing off toward his horse at the stables.

Katriana Nillu comes walking away from the temple of Sweetwater, tugging her cloak around her body carefully, shivering a bit as she rubs her arms carefully. The hood of the cloak is pulled up against the chill, but it doesn't prevent her shivering. The young Nillu takes a few moments to look around, hanging back as she bites at her lower lip.

Vhramis tugs his own cloak tighter about him also as he finds another quiet place to stand and wait, tapping his foot slowly as he stares up to the sky. "Aye, Your Grace!" Syton calls after Norran. He watches the nobleman depart, looking confused for a few moments before shaking his head dismissively. He turns and leans his back against the wall of the tavern, watching the street and breathing into his hands.

Celeste dressed in full bronze armor rides into the square, the highmount cantering to the side as she brings the mare closer to the stables. Lowering herself from the creature, she hands the reigns to a young stable boy before striding towards the tavern. Her hand once more pulled back with a leather thong, and the Half Sun, half moon clearly visible upon her chest.

Out of the carriage stop drifts one Kael Firelight, slinging his cloak around his shoulders and fastening it as he walks out into the Square. Disheveled and yawning, a bit, he pauses at the edge of the building to go about pulling his hair back into some semblance of order, moving to secure it with a scrap tie of leather.

Blinking as she steps forward, Milora descends from the carriage platform and makes with an eager pace towards the first friendly face she sees: that of Celeste Mikin. "Celeste, she says in a low voice, approaching the woman from behind at the stables. "I am positively shaking - you look splendid. Will you spare a moment to make me comfortable again?"

Katriana Nillu remains where she is by the temple, her eyes keeping an watch of who comes and goes, a frown marring her features. Her hands continue to rub up and down her arms, the shivering only continuing increasing as time passes.

The clanking form of Norran Lomasa marches in steadily from the eastern road as he returns from whatever trip he just took. He carries a rather plain-looking biinwood longbow in his right hand, looking rather disgruntled as he peers around the square. Taking notice of Milora, his expression brightening faintly as he makes his way quickly toward her, cloak fluttering at his armored heels. "Cousin!" he calls, waving a free arm as he nears.

Syton's roaming eyes fall upon the carriage as it pulls off, revealing its former passenger--Kael. A smile forms on Syton's face, and he pushes off the wall. The young freelander crosses the street and makes his way over towards the recently arrived Mage. "Don't bother, Kael," he calls to the other man, "you'll still look like a thug no matter what you do with your hair."

Celeste turns at the mention of her name, a hand reflexively raising to her chest as her eyes catch those of Milora. "Always, my lady," she responds softly, belying the strength of the imposing armor as she turns fully to focus on Milora. "Light's Greetings, how does the evening find you."

The Sweetwater barracks opens with a swing of the door, and Lucius Nepos comes outside holding a brass lantern in one hand and a glowing blue shield intricately shaped into the form of a drake in the other. Notably, next to his scabbard a long wooden vine stick dangles. To his side is another soldierly looking type with more modest equipment. The both of them look out onto the square and then head towards the gathering of people.

Kael flashes a merry grin at Syton. "Some thug I am - y' already proved y' coul' whip m' up an' down th' square... " He winks at the smaller freelander. "Shoul' let y' do 't jus' tae make y' look good 'n m'lady Nillu's land. Woul' be a right hero."

Vhramis takes note of the gathering of people, considering each carefully in turn. His gaze pauses on Lucius as he emerges from the barracks, the man quite noticable considering the various lights coming from the man's equipment. He moves forward to intercept him.

"I am horrified! Oh, my dear, I would utterly embrace you except for this." From Milora's back she slides a Backpack of the Watch, which is then cradled in front of her as protectively as she might hold a small child. "It belongs to my cousin, you see. He left Riverhold ahead of me." Speak of the devil! Turning around, Milora's creased face brightens significantly at the appearance of her cousin. "Norran! Hurry closer. I am worried that this will... will fall apart, or burst into flame in my hands," she says in a voice elevated for Norran's ears. "Have you brought my bow?"

Katriana Nillu lifts a brow as Lucius emerges, and she finally begins to move towards the group, slowly, of course, and somewhat cautiously. She keeps a distance on Norran and his pair of women, an anxious look suddenly rising up on her features as she looks, studying each face.

"Kael, you won't have to let me beat you up," Syton says with a chuckle. "You won't be able to stop me." He takes a menacing hold on the flimsy, padded pine training staff he carries. Then, laughing to Kael, he shakes his head. "Alainne and Countess Sweetwater would want retribution, though, so you're safe for now."

Celeste follows the gaze of Milora, a soft shake of her head at seeing Norran, then to return to Milora. "I heard the Constable was to run you through your trials today, did that go well, my lady?" At hearing Lucius's voice, she also moves closer, her eyes watching the man and his assistant. Though she remains until her companion begins to move towards the gathered group. A hand reaching up to brush at the breastplate self consciously.

Kael shakes his head at Temple, laughing then. "So 'tis worthwhile havin' a patron o' two. Who woul' hae thought?" He winks, lowering his hands once his hair's been tamed into something resembling submission. He glances at the crowd, then Temple. "Are y' plannin' on hittin' sommat wi' that thing t'night?"

Lucius Nepos doesn't stop when he sees Vhramis moving towards him. "Evening, Vhramis. Give me a moment, please." Coming to a stop in front of the rest of the group, the former Marshal of the Emperor's Blades observes the lot of them with a critical eye, expression hard and emotionless. "Look at you sorry lot. And I'm supposed to take you on an expedition out of the Aegis? You better show me what your worth, else I'll toss the lot of you on yer arses. I'm Constable Lucius Nepos. I'm going to be second in command on the expedition outside the Aegis. I am going to be in charge of the personnel. Which means, in short, that you answer to ME. That starts now, as far as any matters with this little trip are gonna go. NOW. Give me your names, without title, and what your proficiency is."

"They didn't start yet, Celeste," muses the Lomasa as he nears, laughing aloud as he takes notice of both women in armor for the first time with an approving nod. "It suits you both," he concedes, offering the bow to Milora with a faint grin. "It'll do, for the moment. I'll just take this, then..." he murmurs, reaching to carefully accept the fine pack from his cousin with a proud grin. "This should do nicely!" he speaks to himself, turning on the heel of his sabaton as Lucius addresses the crowd. Pulling the pack on his back, the Lomasa grins a knowing grin to himself as he hears the all-too-familiar show of his former command, standing tall as he listens to his words. At the request, he gives a nod and boldly declares, "Bla ... err, Norran Lomasa, Swordsman."

Kael glances at Norran - looking, frankly, more than a bit startled at Lucius's sudden attention. He pulls his cloak around him - seeming a trifle uncomfortable. "Kael Firelight - though y' ken 't already, sir. M' a woodsman b' trade, a hunter 'n.. if th' circumstances 'r right, a tracker." The words are diffident, the Mark on his cheek light oddly by the square's torchlight.

Celeste's eyes still intent upon the constable, bellows out. "Celeste Mikin, Mace," she nods her head to the freelander.

"Katriana Nillu, archer," Katriana supplies as she steps up to the group, her eyes focusing on Lucius. She tugs back the hood of her cloak so she can see more easily, even as he shivers against the cold.

Furrowing her eyebrows at Celeste, Milora shakes her head. She seems to begin to speak again when her cousin nears, whereupon she nods in agreement with him. A fond word is whispered to Celeste a split second before the booming voice of the Constable shakes the crowd. Slinging the bow carefully over her shoulder, Milora steps forward with square and a somewhat firm expression. Despite her attempts at a game face, however, her voice is not entirely even when she speaks: "Milora Lomasa, marksman."

Vhramis moves alongside Lucius, regarding the gathering as the former Marshall sets about the verbal battering. He stands silent for a moment as his turn comes to him, before he clears his throat. "Wolfsbane. I'm keeping you all from getting lost."

Syton flashes a smirk to Kael before turning to face Lucius. His eyebrows raise and he perks up a bit as he listens to the man speak. He watches each of the others go before him. Once there's an openning, he steps forward and says, "Syton Temple, woodsman and herbalist. I'm a fair hand with staves and spears."

Lucius Nepos nods gruffly as each of the assembled give a different answer. Kael is the first one to get the evil eye from the man, while Lucius's companion, known to those who live in or around Sweetwater as Hugo Wheat, walks down the line to perform his own survey. "Firelight, you need armour. See to that before next week or talk to the Countess Nillu about getting you some Imperials." He motions to Vhramis. "Wolfsbane here is my own second. That makes him third in the grand scheme of things. Listening to him is what's gonna keep all of ya alive. So ya better bloody listen. Wheat over there's assisting me to make sure you're strong 'nough to survive out there." Introductions finished. "Temple, your little frame strong enough to hold a suit of mail on it, or are you only able to handle the extensive weight of leather?" His eyes rest coldly on the man.

"I've never tried, Master," Syton replies to Lucius with a shrug. "With a bit of training, I'm sure I could manage it, though."

"I'll see to it, Marshal," responds the Lomasa Duke as he grins faintly toward Lucius, giving a nod in Temple's direction. "Maybe he'd be better off in ringmail, hm? I don't see him holding chain up so well," suggests the Lomasa, reaching a hand to draw Retribution from his baldric and settle the tip of it into the cobblestone square of Sweetwater Fields.

Syton glances briefly to Norran and smiles, inclining his head gratefully. "I appreciate it, my Lord," he says.

Kael nods, slowly, to Lucius. "If.. y' wish, sir. But 't makes - m' other talents terrible difficult." That's calm, if quiet. "Alainne 's offerin armor - kin hae 't by then, likely, if 's still time fer 't." He glances at Vhramis - thoughtful... but subsides, listening, for now.

"Should I have also mentioned that I will be attending in the capacity of a priest, Constable?" Celeste calls out to the freelander. Her hand resting upon the mace at her side. "That -is- the reason I've been asked along on this expedition."

Katriana Nillu falls silent as she listens to other people, her arms crossed loosely over her chest, a frown forming as she listens, and just waits.

Milora inclines her head, her gaze resting briefly on Vhramis - as though memorizing what she can make out of his face - on Syton, on Kael, and then returning to Lucius. She is silent for now. Vhramis sighs quietly and looks about again, fixing a look on Katrina. He nods his head to her, smiling faintly, before he looks skyward, expression growing distant.

"You're a woodsman, Firelight. Studded leather armour makes no noise, ain't bulky and affords you protection that you're gonna need. Sure, Celeste, Sunkissed is useful." Lucius replies, using people's first or surnames, but none of their titles as he'd said earlier. "Now that that's done, I need to know what your weaknesses are. If you lie then somebody will probably die. If you're truthful, then we can cover each other's blind spots and we can all come out of this. Out with 'em." He barks.

Astride Rei, the windswept figure of Sahna Nillu barrels down the road at a smooth canter, black cloak billowing out behind her, approaching the square.

This question calls for the Lomasa to grin widely in amusement, a gauntleted hand resting securely on Retribution's pommel as his eyes settle on Lucius. "Weaknesses, hm?" he asks, a gloved tip of his finger tapping at his chin. "There's only one of me," he decides at first, both hands resting now on the claymore. "I can't attack from a distance unless I'm fortunate with this throwing dagger at my side, and I'm a fairly obvious target."

Kael nods, "m' nae much wi' weapons.." He shrugs, glancing at Syton, and flashing the other man a quick grin. "Fists? Fangs? Aye - staves 'n blades? Nae so much. "

"Seems the Duke and I have the same weakness," Celeste replies. "I prefer to engage my enemy one on one...as with the Duke, Half plate doesn't always imply the most nimble." She arches a blonde brow towards Kael but remains quiet.

"I am the opposite," Katriana says softly. "It is when someone gets too close to me that I am defenseless, but at the distance, I have no trouble picking them off." She shrugs her shoulders slightly, one hand running down the bow she carries.

Finding her shoulders rising and falling heavily, Milora bites her lip until a pause in the smooth flow of confessions allows her to interject politely. "I am not very strong, sir," she admits clearly. "I am my best at long ranges. If I don't have enough room to notch and loose, I am out of hope." Her eyes flick towards Norran for a fraction of a second.

"I can stab things well enough, but I'd rather not have to dodge and duck claws and blades," Vhramis notes, consider Katrina and then Milora at their words. "Keep things away from me and you won't have to do much fighting at all."

"I have skill with both staff and bow," Syton says as it comes around to his turn again, "but not an abundance of skill with either." He thinks for a moment, then adds, "Also, I'm not likely to have much luck swinging a weapon that's bigger than I am." "If you wanna suck your own cock, save it for home, Norran." Deadpans Lucius to his comrade. "You charge too quickly. I'm going to have to attach a leash to your neck so you stay in formation. Spare us one and don't reply to that." Finally, he cracks a wry grin at the tall, armoured man, though this lasts only for a few seconds before his gaze travels on down the line again. "We'll see what we can do about that, Firelight. And bows? Slings?" Without waiting for an immediate response from the man, he nods at Celeste. "Just make sure you don't charge like an impetuous Wildling unless you're given the go-ahead. Know that if we do fight we'll likely be fighting more than one on one."

He turns to the rest of the group. "Which means staying in formation and supporting one and other will be even more important than usually. So.. one on five, perhaps, but if we're together then ten on fifty's not so bad when they've not got half the equipment or discipline. And that is what we're looking for. Discipline. By the time we leave you're going to fight as if you'd all had some experience soldiering. Scout, infantry, archer, whatever the specialty. See, some of us are specialized at close range. Some at long. Few at both. That means the melee will need to protect the missile. It's simple, this is not a battlefield where we'll be able to pursue enemies. Temple, concentrate on your bow skills, then. Keeping anything away from us is better than having to fight it face to face." He claps his gloved hands together, breath visible in the air as he finally declares, "Good. Firstly, now, we are going to do some ranged practice for anybody with a missile skill. Milora will also be performing her trial to see if she's even /worthy/ of being on this boat. C'mon, I've some targets set up Whistlewind Road and to the North."

Swinging down from the saddle near the stables, Sahna hands the reins over to the stablehand and strolls, leisurely towards the group.. Whistling.. Happily. "Constable Nepos! Having fun?" The petite noblewoman calls, brightly, giving a fair nod and positively beaming in Kael's direction, waving at him with a leather-gloved hand.

Kael brightens considerably at seeing Sahna - if anything, standing a bit straighter as he returns her wave - but it's Lucius he answers. "N' sir. Well, a bow, but I hae nae shot one 'n so long, be more o' a danger t' us 'n them." He starts walking then, in the direction the constable waved.

Celeste nods to at the constables words, "I'm not a fool in battle, Constable...nor squeamish, I shall stay my ground and protect everyone."

"I have no intention of getting myself killed," Katriana says quietly. "I know my strengths. I know my weaknesses." A frown flickers across her lips and she falls silent once more. The arrival of Sahna draws a brow upwards, but she continues on in silence.

A figure walks down the road towards the square, cloaked a hooded, head bowed against the cold and wind. Nothing but a bundle of fabric against the weather. A black woolen scarf is wrapped over nose and mouth obscuring facial features. A gloved hand clutches a pair of bound long-shank hares that are slung over one shoulder. They are stiff and bang lightly on the figures back in time with each step.

"You better have a strong leash if you intend to make good on that threat, Marshal," challenges the Lomasa at Nepos' words, although the other veteran's grin is met by one of his own, as he deftly lifts his claymore to rest against his shoulder. His left hand firmly gripping the blade, he begins to make the trek off toward the north at a steady march behind the Constable. He spares a faint smile back toward Sahna as he notices her approach, but otherwise focuses on the walk northward, his various armor and weaponry jingling and clanking faintly as he walks.

Although she's rather pale, particularly after being singled out, there is something not at all unpleasant in Milora's face as she studies the Constable's face. With the corners of her mouth twitching briefly, she absently taps the heel of one foot silently against the ground. Both gloved hands are lifted to brush a few stray strands of hair back behind her ears, and the smile slides off of her face as she moves forward.

Wolfsbane quirks an eyebrow at that, fixing Lucius with an odd look as he turns away. "Practice," he comments to himself, shivering at a brief breeze passing through. Sahna receives a curious look, though the ranger follows the procession.

"Doing fine, your Grace. Drilling for the trip. Not necessarily fun, but important." Without a further word of acknowledgement to anyone else, Lucius moves down Whistlewind Road, Hugo Wheat trailing the formation.

The group enters the field...

Field


 * A grassy sward, relatively flat, with an expanse of short greenish-blue blades broken here and there by the occasional shardwood tree and clumps of green-stalked weeds. The soil providing sustenance for the grass is rich, dark and loamy. Once in a while, longflank hares and other small wild animals can be seen rustling through the grass.

This field is used to provide crops for sustenance and export from Sweetwater in the long, warm months. Unfortunately for those assembled tonight these are not those months. The ground is cold and hard, a small breeze stirs over the land and it is disgustingly cold outside. The area has been set up with a variety of targets on stands at several different ranges. Furthermore, three smaller areas have been marked off as little arenas for melee sparring, in circles.

Lucius Nepos comes in ahead of the rest of the group, handing his lantern to Hugo who has jogged up to the front of the group. The man with the glowing blue shield comes to a stop in the middle of the field, turning to face everybody. "Alright. Everybody who has professed any sort of aptitude with missile weapons, step up. The rest of you, who are not too numerous, choose a sparring partner. Get into one of the arenas. Fight. If you've got neither aptitude with one or the other or can't find somebody.. come speak to me. LOMASA!" Lucius bellows loudly now, pointing at Milora. "Here. Now." He jerks a finger at the ground.

The larger, far more manly Lomasa (That'd be Norran), of course turns his head as his surname is called aloud. He chuckles to himself as he realizes who was meant, giving a nod to Milora. "Good luck, Cousin! I'm sure you'll surprise him every bit as I did," wishes one Lomasa to the other, giving the ex-Scourge a playful nudge and a smirk as he wanders toward a sparring ring, sword still at his shoulder, "Come along, Celeste. Let's see how good you are with that thing, hm?" Once he nears, his carefully settles his pack nearby and settles the tip of Retribution in the dirt, waiting patiently as he looks off toward the Mikin.

Kael winces.. and calls over to Syton.. "If 'm goin' tae get beat, I prefer th' fellow wi' somethin' padded." Thin fingers go up to sweep off his cloak, folding it carefully. "Want tae try yer hand 't whippin' me up th' field again?"

Katriana Nillu quietly slips forward as Lucius calls for archers, rubbing at her arms again lightly. "Shades, it's cold," she mutters to herself, eying the former Marshal up curiously.

The group is congregated in the middle of the field. To the edge of it, there are some trees providing concealement if necessary.

Celeste tugs the mace loose from her waist. "As you wish, Your Grace," her tone teasing as she follows the Lomasa to the ring. "Course, I do realize your skill is rather apt...but if that swords smacks where it shouldn't....well, best to make sure it doesn't" Her sea green gaze twinkling as she positions herself within the sparring ring.

Wincing slightly, and more than a little red in the face from cold and nerves, Milora glances briefly over her shoulder at her cousin, gives a gentle quirk of her brows and steps forward silently, her arms at her sides. She stands still on the ground that is pointed to, giving a subtle nod. "Sir."

As Vhramis walks, the man tugs his red wool scarf to cover his nose and mouth, the hood following, in protection against the cold. He trudges along, stringing his warbow as they travel, and moving to stand about where indicated. Glancing between Milora and Lucius, he waits in silence.

"Usually, I don't make it a habit to beat dogs," Syton teases Kael with a smirk, "But I'll make an exception because you're my friend." He hoists his flimsy training staff over one shoulder and trots off towards an arena with Kael. "Are you going to be more of a challenge with your bare hands?" he asks.

The hooded figure approaches the edge of the field and peers out across it towards the sound of the chatting group. Her gaze is met by the light the flickering lights of the torches that stick in the ground and the bobbing of lanterns. It slowly makes its way to the stand of trees and sits on the far side of one.

Sahna follows at a brisk walk, uninterested in the jogging, but does eventually catch up with the main group. "Target practice? Sounds like fun." She muses, folding both hands behind her back, still looking oddly cheery. "Hope you don't mind a spectator, Lucius?"

"So, all you archers, loose. I want to see your handiwork after I'm done with little Milora over here." The Constable turns his attention now to the Lomasa girl, asiding briefly to Sahna, "Of course not, Sahna. Please, by all means." He studies Milora for a moment. "Well, girl, how old are you? Old enough to go out of the Aegis? To take responsibility for others lives, and to take a life if necessary? Shoot your bow and answer me deftly."

Hugo Wheat wanders off to watch the melee fighters, hands clasped behind his banded plate.

Maven walks in from the south, his cloak wrapped tightly around him. He is dressed to the nines as always, not being the type to get dirty on any occasion if he can help it, or so it would seem in spite of the rough state of his boots. He would cross the field to the torch lit area in due course, paying mind to the target ranges and keeping his semi-thick cloak wrapped tightly against the cold.

"Alright, Mikin. Let's hope I fare better than the last time I sparred a Scourge," answers back the Lomasa with a confident grin, taking Retribution into both hands and holding the hilt down below his waist, his left foot kept behind to brace him while his right stands forward. The claymore's blade is pointed roughly toward the Mikin's face, from this distance. "Go ahead!" he calls.

Kael grins, impishly, at Temple. "M' used t' 't." He lays his cloak down, carefully.. and walks towards one of the sparring circles, actually rolling up his sleeves, breath fogging in the cold air. "Worse comes tae worse, I get a few more bruises 'n learn a few things - s' what matters, aye?"

"Oh, are you deferring to a lady," Celeste quips. She raises the mace, circling about the Lomasa, before darting in dipping to the side of the claymore to bring the mace against the Lomasa's side

The figure by the tree sets the dead carcasses on the ground beside her and ever so slowly slides to where she is with in viewing sight of the group. The head dips forward for a second and suddenly melts away into the shadows of the trees.

Syton looses his cloak with a grin, allowing it to fall to the dirt at the edge of the arena. "I've done enough learning for a while," he says, "I'll be happy just not to get beaten." He takes his staff in a martial hold and nods to Kael. "You first this time," Syton says.

Katriana Nillu steps up next to Lucius, sliding her bow from her shoulder, carefully making a quick check of it before it lifts up, and she withdraws an arrow from the quiver over her shoulder. "Which target, Lucius?" she asks quietly. "Or does it not matter?"

Milora looks evenly at the Constable, her face solemn - his speech certainly doesn't miss her; she bites her tongue, quite literally, as he speaks, as though mulling his words over in her mind. Actions, however, speak better than words. Her bow is drawn from her back into her hand. Lifting her head, Milora judges the state of the wind, locks her target in sight, and notches her arrow.

Peering down to the target directly in front of him, the ranger rubs at his chin through the red wool covering it. He finally hefts his bow, and begins casually shooting at the distant target, drawing arrows from the quiver at his waist.

Looking back at Lucius as the arrow hits the precise center of the target, Milora nods. "I am nearly eighteen, sir. I am old enough to complete any duty required of me.

Kael lines up across from Syton... and grins. "Right." He raises his hands, keeping his hands open... and steps forward to take an experimental poke at the smaller man - no wild swing - just a quick series of short jabs.

Maven sighs softly, looking for a practice dummy somewhere, not having the skill or inclination to be thrashed in the wee hours of the evening. Not seeing one immediately, he would draw his blade and proceed to execute a few practice thrusts with the weapon, getting a feel for it for the first time in earnest. Really, the first time for any weapon in earnest.

From somewhere within the ether of the shadow of the trees and shadowy ear is set towards the group. The sounds, even those at a whisper, flit their way through air to settle within the shadow.

Although Celeste's attack is well-executed, the blunted blade of Retribution easily parries away the mace from the Lomasa's defensive stance. With Celeste recovering from the parry, Norran swiftly shifts his position to the Mikin's side to swing the claymore at the ex-Scourge's bronze-armored side.

Syton darts around Kael's jabs, using his small size to his advantage as he avoids the blows from the larger man. "Come on," he mutters playfully to Kael, using his staff to make a backhanded sweep at the Mage's legs.

Lucius's attentions are pretty much fully focused on Milora's performance, though they do very briefly glance on off towards the shots of both Vhramis and Katrianna. "Bullseye, Milora. But perhaps that's a fluke. Your cousin told me you were a good archer. One shot isn't enough to convince me. Again." He nods, though. "That you are, old enough. I was eighteen when I finished my training and became a full Blade. But are you mentally prepared for the responsibility. Age means less than maturity. Are you mature enough to fight and if necessary die for the Empire? Hmm? Can you stomach talking with Wildlings, taking orders from one with blood as good as what rests at the bottom of a pisspot?"

Katriana Nillu gives a small shrug of her shoulders as she receives no answer, but takes aim at a target in her path, knocks the arrow, and fires. The arrow sails through the air and goes thunking into the target, dead center, with very little problem.

Celeste grumbles softly as the blade grazes against her side, as she recovers from her original swing. Pivoting halfway as she tries to once more bring the mace against his side as he clangs against the bronze breastplate.

Wolfsbane methodically works his warbow, taking aim and each shot in a half distracted manner. Perhaps a faintly off-key humming can be heard coming from under the red wool wrapping covering his mouth.

The first arrow seems to have taken all of the skill. Katriana's next shot hits the target, but is more towards the outside. This doesn't seem to phase the Nillu, however, and she continues to work through it, lifting a new arrow to knock and prepare to fire.

Maven readies his weapon once again, focusing more on his grip this time around as the weapon literally nearly flew out of the bookworm's grip. Not letting annoyance get the better of him, he double checks his stance, letting his weight rest evenly on both feet and grips the weapon tightly before delivering a forceful thrust straight forward with the weapon.

Kael grins, and moves to step in to the smaller man's swing - trying to interfere with the staff's motion before it gets up to speed; Temple's speed serves him well, though, and all that step does is get the Mage smacked about the shins smartly. He stumbles forward with that... and does his best to turn that forward momentum into something a bit more offensive - his hands reach out for Temple's tunic, an attempt to grab and simply fling the smaller man away...

Shaking her head as one trying to remove a ringing sound, Milora draws another arrow from her quiver, lifting her face to the wind again, and releases - the arrow lands not far to the right of her first, and sticks nearly as deeply and quite as straight into the target. "I learn quickly," she says evenly, glancing up at Lucius. "I have the will, sir, in abundance. The capability is not beyond me; however, I can not pretend that what I am is the same as what I could be. ... Constable, my father admires you and my brothers think you are a good man. As long as your honour exceeds mine, which it may as long as I live, you are my superior."

The Mikin's mace almost breaks through the Lomasa's parry, but Retribution just manages to slap away the mace and set the Lomasa off his footing for a moment. An impressed grin can be noticed on the Knight-Errant's face at Celeste's blow, before he feints toward the right and makes a low swipe toward the priestess's armored thigh.

Syton is a little too pleased with himself after landing the last blow on Kael. He just manages to get back into a fighting stance before Kael's upon him. The smaller man has no chance. Kael grabs Syton firmly at the chest and hurls him into the air. The small freelander travels a several feet while airborne, then comes crashing down outside of the arena. He rolls several feet more on the dirt. Syton groans and, slowly, sits up. "Shades," he murmurs.

Lucius Nepos smiles faintly at that, nodding at the second good shot from the Lomasa lady's bow. "Good. But don't worry about my honour. Honour means bollocks out in the sticks, where we're going to be. Though I do thank you for the complement, considering I've never met your father and brothers. You seem half-decent. Shoot again."

Kael pulls himself up short, wincing. "Good hit." He rubs at his leg, limping toward Syton and offering a hand up - "Y' alright?"

Another shot takes the dead center of her target as Katriana focuses her attention what she's doing, blocking everything else out. Even though the shot would usually draw out a smile, the Nillu remains stoic, simply just drawing another arrow to shoot.

Celeste growls as once more her prey avoids her mace, pivoting to find the blade barely catching her thigh. She steps away, once more circling to find another open space, to feign back aiming a blow to the opposite side of his breastplate.

Maven would attempt a quick slashing motion this time, praying he would not get into the thick of it out there as he watches the others out of the corner of his eye. Minding his stance, balancing himself on both feet for the motion he tells himself that fighting with the rapier is all in the wrist. A quick flicking motion should be all it appears to an adversary, he tells himself.

A movement and the figure slips out of the trees shadow and rolls back to the far side away from the group. Slowly it stands and with careful movement and little sound walks through the stand of trees, moving away from the group and entering the open field, careful to make it's track follow the natural shadows of the night.

"No," Syton grunts. He chuckles a little to himself, then groans and holds his ribs with one hand. He rolls halfway over to one side before rising with the aid of his staff. Syton looks at Kael, blinks, then looks around him. "How'd I get over here?" he asks, limping back towards Kael and the arena. In the end, he smiles to Kael. "A good throw."

The Nillu appears to be on a roll tonight, as another arrow hits in the center. In fact, a neat little circle is starting to form in the center. Once more, Katriana keeps to herself, just drawing another arrow to shoot.

The Mikin noblewoman's mace is tossed rather wildly toward the young Lomasa Duke. The weapon is quite effortlessly halted and swatted away, Norran taking a step back before standing his ground once more. Raising the hilt of the weapon to his shoulders with the long blunted blade of the claymore pointing toward the sky, Norran brings down the weapon strongly toward Celeste's shoulder, that confident grin settled on his pale lips.

Kael grins, and grips the smaller man's shoulder and makes his way back to the circle. "M' sorry, m' friend - got m'self a bit carried away, there." He pops his neck, absently, and moves to the far side, turning back to Temple. "Y' up fer another go?"

Wolfsbane lowers his bow and regards the target, before turning away. His attention falls to the mass of people swinging weapons and shooting bows, the man shaking his head slightly. "Reminds me of Wedgecrest Falls," he comments to himself, beginning to wander about.

Milora, a little shakily, draws a third arrow from her quiver and notches it smoothly into her bow. A moment's pause ensues, and she releases the arrow - it sinks deeply, rather crooked rather below and to the right of her first arrow, a significant distance from the target's center. Drawing her breath unsteadily, Milora lowers her bow and gives the last arrow shot a long, steady look. Glancing upwards to the sky, the woman takes a deep breath and draws a fourth arrow from her quiver. This one is notched and loosed in a fluid, confident motion that is yet unseen front her - searing the air like a hot brand, it splits her first arrow down the middle and is lodged securely in the bull's eye.

When the figure reaches a point on the field parallel and about 50 feet behind the group it drops to the ground and watches for several quiet minutes.

"If only things were as they were in Wedgecrest," Katriana replies quietly to Vhramis as she fires off her last shot for the evening, one that, while a bit further out from the rest of the arrows, completes her circle. She gives a grim smile, and eyes her handiwork.

Lucius Nepos lifts a spear from behind his glowing blue shield and, grabbing it by its throwing strap he tosses it forward, towards the lone unblemished target. It arcs up through the sky.. and then falls down, striking the target in the bullseye, its blade penetrating to the wood. Then, after his fingers to his mouth and blows a loud whistle three times in succession, which will hopefully alert everybody to the fact that he considers the drill over. "ASSEMBLE HERE!" He yells. To Milora, he smiles, giving her a brief pat on the back. "I think we can take you along. You're strong in the head, which is good, and have a good eye. Just know you'll be under scrutiny, like most of the others." To Vhramis, "It reminds me of Fastheld Keep. Now."

Maven pulls off the motion as correctly as a largely self educated novice can. He decides to follow through on this maneuver by pulling back immediately after and thrusting once more. Fluidity of motion is essential, keep your balance and thrust with the body, not the arm, he tells himself.

Still watching the sparring and target practice as Lucius calls an end to it, Sahna Nillu remains standing a bit back from the group, arms folded, smiling faintly. "Quite well done!" She calls out, encouragingly.

"I was younger and better looking, then," the ranger answers Katriana, and whether or not he's joking isn't readily apparent, as he doesn't add anything else, instead turning to regard Lucius expectantly.

"As was I," Katriana replies with a shake of her head. "With more opportunities ahead of me." She shrugs, and slides her bow back over her shoulder, eying Lucius curiously.

Syton opens his mouth to answer Kael, but then smiles at Lucius's call. "Seems like I'm saved from another round," he says, clasping Kael's shoulder. The freelander coughs, grabs his ribs more tightly, then makes his way over towards Lucius' assembly point.

Glancing at Lucius with wide eyes, Milora waits until the Constable turns away from her to allow herself a wide grin. By the time she's fallen in with the others, purposely trying to edge closer to Norran to give him a gentle nudge in the ribs, she is merely smiling.

Kael follows Syton, pausing long enough to scoop up his cloak and swirl it over his shoulders - "Y' sure yer alright?" His expression is worried, at that point. "Y' landed hard, there.." He trails off as he steps up to the back of the group, thin fingers fastening his cloak.

Celeste feigns to the side as she catches side of the blade coming down towards her shoulder she tries to bring the mace up to block the blade. Sadly her timing is off and the blade catches her before the mace can block. Her steps carrying her back as bows her head to the Lomasa. "My, perhaps it's good that I never accepted that wrestling proposal, Your Grace. Your skill is outstanding, I could learn from your swordplay."

The figure slowly, hand over hand, foot over foot with belly barely scraping the ground begins a slow and careful shimmy across the field, heading away from the edge of the field in the direction of group, keeping the 50 ft distance.

"I've been thrown farther," Syton says, turning to Kael. He brushes off a small portion of the dirt now caking his armor and adds, "My brothers are bigger than you, after all... and they work as a team." He then turns and looks expectantly to Lucius.

"I'm far better with a blade than I am at unarmed combat, you wouldn't need to fear as much," muses the Lomasa after the strike, lifting up the blade to rest against his shoulder once more as he walks to pick up the pack he abandoned moments before. His blade held in his left hand and the pack in his right, he begins to walk carefully off toward Lucius' position, armor jingling and shifting in his wake.

Wheat, one of Sweetwater's two Deputy Constables also makes his way to the assembly point to report on the melee fighters, whispering something to Lucius. Curious that he hasn't said anything to anybody but the Constable the entire night. Nevertheless he stands there, trying to look menacing.

Lucius himself crossing his arms over Lorica's Soul, regarding the group once again with a cold gaze. "Not bad. Some spectacular shooting from the archers. Some decent fighting by the melee fighters. Anybody can learn from Norran, Celeste, if he pulled his head out of his arse for five minutes." A wink is sent Norran's way before he continues. "Now, we must come up with a proper plan of action. Or several, if that be the case. I imagine that Kael won't be using his fists. Because if he does, he'll die. So, this leaves us with a big bunch of ranged fighters and smaller handful of melee ones. Which means that since these ranged prissies can't defend themselves at close, we'll have to do it. While they make our job easier by picking off the arseholes out far... Any particularly astute nd stunning ideas, then, on how we should proceed, before I correct you and tell you how stupid and wrong you are?" Adds Lucius, furtherly.

Maven feels that he is gradually, but certainly, improving. This practice is serving him well, he feels. The end result of his maneuver would be him, blade in his left hand as he is a lefty, slashing with a flick of his wrist to initiate and pulling back to his hip, then taking a half step back he rightens up, then points the blade forward before thrusting with the entirety of his form, stepping forward and shifting his balance to the fore while reaching out with the tip of his weapon of choice to score on his imaginary opponent.

Kael glances at Syton, then looks up at Lucius - the young man isn't a master of schooled expressions, and, frankly, his looks a bit amused as the armsmaster declares his uselessness.. with a slight shrug, though, he simply - listens.

Celeste steps back to the fence of the sparring ring, her elbows coming to rest on the railing as her gaze scans the other groups as they continue to train, a soft pink to her cheeks from the exhertion as she seems happy with the outcome.

Katriana Nillu gives a small snort at the comment about Norran and head out of ass, her fingers running lightly across the bow before she focuses in on Lucius silently, just giving a simple blink of her eyes.

Milora really feels the need to be silent now - her triumph has probably reached her peak for the night. So, then, she stands, still warm with adrenaline, and listens carefully to the proceedings.

Norran's only answer is a small chuckle toward Lucius' comment, giving a nod afterward as he stands with all the other. He glances backward to grin toward Maven, shaking his head slowly before flashing a smile toward his cousin.

Wolfsbane regards Lucius with an odd expression on his face, blinking at the man. "You remind me a bit of Trayson. He'd always cuss out everyone. In the end, all he really wanted was a drink. And someone to sleep with." Scratching at his cheek with his fingers, he shrugs a bit.

Syton absently wipes bits of dirt off his armor, splitting his attention between grooming himself and watching Lucius. He stays silent.

Maven lets his overconfidence get the better of him, and oversteps his thrust. His lead foot slides out from under him and his blade skitters across the grass as he topples to the earth. He mutters a curse to himself before climbing back to his feet, whipping himself off and retrieving his weapon. He would get better, he promises himself.

With an approving nod, Sahna turns and head briskly back towards the township at a brisk pace.

"I've got someone to sleep with and a big bleedin' jug of wine at my house. Noted, Wolfsbane." Green blue orbs pass from silent person to silent person, hands now perching on hips. "Looks like Vhramis here is the only one with the balls and intelligence to speak up. The rest of you must be bloody sheeps to the slaughter, from the silence I hear. Nobody? NOBODY has ANY ideas on what to do if we're caught out in an open field swamped by thirty Wildlings?" Then Lucius looks to Maven. "I SAID ASSEMBLE YOU SONOFABITCH! WHAT IN YOUR INFECTED, RETARDED SKULL DOESN'T UNDERSTAND THAT?"

The figure stops when it's directly on line with the group and brings it's knees up underneath and places one hand on the ground raising itself up enough to slip the other into the pouch that hangs sits snugly on the belt. It slips out with a steel knife hand. All the while its gaze is set firmly on the group. Everything freezes in place and it waits.

Celeste's gaze fall to that of Maven and his antics, slowly pushing from the fence as she approaches the freelander. "Would you like to try a partner with that or do you feel your doing well enough on your own, Master Maven?" An amused smile returning to her lips as she moves to close the distance between the two of them. Celeste changes course towards the constable with a sad smile to Maven.

Maven glances to the man screaming at him with a raised brow. He recognizes him vaguely and steps over to the group, sheathing his weapon as he does like told. The drill instructor routine doesn't bother or impress him, but he has no problem following instruction.

Kael folds his arms, then, his jaw set, still eying Lucius - but, at the moment, he still doesn't comment.

"I'll say something," Syton says, sounding like he'd rather not speak. He leans against his staff, "If we're caught by surprise, outnumbered in an open field, we get fucked. We either stand ground, form lines, and try to get fucked as little as possible, or we run and hope someone else gets fucked in our place."

Glancing briefly towards the ground, the sudden burst of screaming seems to give Milora new rush. Lifting her head, she momentarily gives Syton a scrutinizing glance.

"Thirty wildlings?" Vhramis cocks an eyebrow at that, the man's hand falling to his side, before he nods to Temple. "..if there's thirty, and we're out on a field, with no cover, we're most likely assuredly finished. Form up tight and stay next to someone would be all that could be done. They'll drag you right down from both sides and tear your throat out, otherwise. Probably will end up happening anyway." The ranger's eyes sweep about those assembled, fixing on Maven curiously for a moment.

"It's good that we are, for slaughter it very may well be. Protect the less hardy among us, and pray," answers Norran in response to Lucius, smirking off toward Temple at his words. "Run from wildlings? That ought to be great fun, die a little faster and a little more pathetically." He idly drops the pack to his side, swinging the blade down to rest the tip into the grass and hold both gauntleted hands on the hilt.

"An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure," Milora says carefully. "We marksmen will need to be on our guard at all times. Thirty'll take us sideways and backwards, but fifteen up close and we stand a chance."

"Thirty wildlings...if we're prepared, I'd say set fire to the brush and fall back if at all possible. While they are trying to understand the predicament, snipe them from a distance and regroup." Maven would raise a brow as he speaks, head canted slightly as well. His opinion might not count for much, but that is his best suggestion from novel perspective.

Lucius Nepos snorts. "Well, at least you all listen like recruits. Very good, Syton. You say we'd be fucked, which is very possibly right. Not necessarily, though, but if there are any slips.." He makes a motion to his neck and draws a finger across it. "Run from Wildlings is doom, as Norran says. Two points for Wolfsbane. Maybe that's why they named a fort after you. What we'd do, to stave off doom, would be to form an orb. A Wildling group will try to surge around and tear you apart. So the armoured ones form a small, tight circle, weapons held up. Wildlings jump, too. The archers stand in the middle and loose until they can't loose anymore. If one can find some hard cover then you form around it. You always want to anchor a flank, or behind and shorten your line because it makes the whole formation more hardy. That's right, Milora's got it. You marksmen need to be picking them off the moment you see 'em. We protect you in the close range. I'm seriously considering making every marksman carry a wooden stake to jam into the ground in open terrain, which makes the jumping Wildlings easier to defend against."

A spring and the figure jumps to it's feet, with a flick of arm and rest the knife sails end over end in the direction of the group, it's line of flight heading towards a spot in the ground several feet to the waiting figures. The throw is accompanied by a brisk shout, in a clear and obviously female voice, "Methinks that those wildlings would have gotten them by now Master Lucius." It's already dropping back to the ground as it continues, "Such lack of awareness of their surroundings. Tsk tsk."

Awareness? Kael's certainly hadn't much, at that - he spins at the shout - startled ... and manages to look disgusted with himself as he watches the figure sink back to the ground. ".. m' gettin' soft." Just muttering, mostly to himself.

Maven puts a finger to his nose and blows a snot rocket at the knife. He is growing annoyed with the training, somewhat doubting that he is cut out for this mission, but someone had to record the findings. He shakes his head and crosses his arms beneath his cape, looking to his extra lying on the ground next to his paring knife and backpack.

Barely preventing herself from smiling again and looking like a smug asshole, Milora's good eye catches sight of a faint glimmer in the dark. Moving to the side, she darts away from the center of the group and stares for a second at the knife in the ground before turning towards the voice.

Startled is a word that could describe Katriana's face as she looks down at the knife, and then up towards the voice. She's silent however, a frown appearing. "Perhaps we are pitiful," she murmurs, mostly to herself. She smiles sardonically. "Oh joy, what a fun trip this will be."

Norran doesn't seem very surprised at the voice or the knife, merely smiling grimly at the call. "If Vhramis didn't notice that, we're all doomed to the void anyway. I'm sure we'll be far more concerned about wildlings when we're actually /in/ the wildlands."

The Constable jerks towards the knifer, reaching for his sword... and then stopping. He smirks, turning back. "Alright. You all look tired. You can go get some rest. Be assured that we will be reconvening more than once for further training. This is preliminary, but we need to drill more as a unit rather than one on one, because it is together that we will be fighting and need to rely." Lucius basically ignores the knife for the moment after having taken his initial glance. "Dismissed. Decent job tonight. Join me at the tavern if ye like. Kael, and Maven, stay behind please. I'd like to talk to you both separately." He points at Ester. "And /you/ too."

Kael shakes his head, pulling his cloak around him against the cold... and glances to Syton. "Looks like m' stayin', a bit - y' goin' tae be about later?"

Ester, now back in her crouch calls a sharp, "Ayup. Sure thing," and adjusts the scarf that covers her face. She doesn't move however, carefully watching the other's from her position.

Maven looks to the constable and steps over to him with his arms crossed, visibly tired. He isn't used to this kind of exertion, his body visibly more used to going for days without sleep pouring over tomes and examining beakers, not swinging swords or traipsing through the woods.

With a deep sigh, Milora steps around the knife and closer to her cousin. "Norran," she says, smiling first at him and then at Celeste. "To the tavern with the two of you, I'll wager."

Syton smirks to Kael and nods. "I'll be around," he says vaguely, patting Kael on the shoulder before turning away. He strolls over towards Norran, Celeste, and Milord with a smile on his face. He nods to each in greeting, "Your grace, Lady Celeste, Lady Mily."

At Lucius' dismissal, the Nillu turns away, and starts back in the direction that she originally came from, tightening her cloak around her once more. Her cheeks are red from the harsh cold, but otherwise seems unaffected.

"Tavern? Heading back up north, actually," replies Norran to Milora with a chuckle, settling Retribution back in the baldric on his back as he picks up the pack and tosses it on his shoulder. This done, he begins to make his way at a steady pace toward the south. "Good work, Cousin! I'm sure he's absolutely impressed!" he calls as he departs.

"Light Keep you, Syton, "Celeste calls after the freelander. Her own steps carrying her from the field as well.

"Kael. I need you to tell me exactly what it is you can do. I think that's more suitable for private at a later time, so go off now." Lucius actually smiles at the man, patting him on the shoulder, moving on to Maven. He seems to have suitably relaxed now that training is over, slinging his shield on his back. "Master Quillblade. I don't expect you to be combat personnel, so you coming out here was a nice bonus. I do expect you to come out in the field with us, though, so it's important you continue to attend. Maybe I can teach you some about swords, too. That's all, unless you've something to tell me."

"Light keep, Norran. Be well." With that, Milora gives the town a glance and smiles to herself. A moment is spared to stray from the group - she means to collect her arrows, and to replace three of the four in her quiver.

Ester slowly rises as the other start walking away. She stretches and ambles towards Lucius and Maven. She takes a couple of sidesteps and leans down to pull the knife out of the ground.

Kael frowns... and scratches at his hair... but then shrugs, and moves off the field - he glances at the bundled figure, shaking his head again and - frankly, looking disgusted, though, given his expression, it seems more at himself. "M' needin' some water." He glances to Temple... "'s th' problem wi' havin' a bed. Y' lose yer instincts."

Maven uncrosses his arms slightly, still keeping them beneath his cape for obvious reasons. He would study the man for a moment before answering. "I am indeed no fighter, never have been. I do, however, respect that it is a violent world we live in. My own discipline explains this in the law of exchange, just like it does most things. You get what you give, give more, you get more, and so on. This applies to reality as a whole in terms of peace and war. More people are inclined to violence, therefore it is an inevitability. Utopia does, after all, translate to nowhere." He would tighten his cape about him ever so slightly after giving this short speech.

Syton turns back to Kael and grins. "I'm sure you can think of a way to get Alainne to toss you out on your ass," he says, heading back towards town.

''Return to Season 5 (2007)