This RP is a revival of sort of Atomic's RP. I've altered the setting to suit my tastes, but the basics remains about the same : the PCs will be mostly fodder thrown into a Vietnam-style guerrilla conflict.

The PCs are all amongst the (not so) lucky members of Leafmoth Fort's fifth company. Freshly rebuilt after heavy losses and then tossed again to chase after bosmeri rebels amongst Valenwwod's trackless jungle. With the support of best and newest magical technology the Empire has pieced together to break a years-old bloody stalemate and bring peace and civilization to a province plagued with bloodthirsty rebels. Or so the recruiters and newsrags tell, as from the grunt's lower vantage point, it's mostly fumbling through a trackless jungle between bloody skirmishes with as much sense as clear-cut winners. That is, very little...

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Here's an overview of the event which dragged the mostly ignored Valenwood province into such a kicking, screaming and bleeding mess.

4E01 ? following the Oblivion Crisis and Martin Septim's sacrifice, the Elder Council starts the immense task of restoring the Empire's prosperity. The Crisis's destructions send thousand of impoverished refugees into the Imperial City's outlying areas, trying to stay as close as the miraculous statue as possible in fear of an encore by Mehrunes Dagon. This influx turns the already poor sections of the City into crime and poverty-ridden slums.

4E03 to 4E05 ? in an attempt to solve the refugee problem, the Elder Council grants many of them land in Valenwood's northeast corner. Happily ignoring the Silvenar's objection about the local tribes. The tribes harass those they view as invaders, while the Legion don't do much about the situation. For most officers, squabbles between dirt-poor peasants and uncouth savages is none of the Legion's business.

4E6 : As the settlers begins flowing back into Cyrodill, the Elder Council creates the West Empire Company, patterned on the somewhat successful East Empire Company, to coordinate the settling and turn the worthless jungles into valuable timber and farmland.

4E7 to 4E8 : the Company starts buying up the disgruntled colonist's plots, gathering them into massive plantations, turning a hefty profit and underpricing the independent farmers thanks to a politic of debt peonage. The tribes get increasingly restless as they see the disorganized farmers give way to a mercantile juggernaut bent on destroying their hunting grounds and trying to turn them into farmers. Soon they turn to violence to protect Yffre's gift (the jungle), engaging in a nasty guerrilla war to make up for their small number.
Some other tribes are swayed by the Company's offers and settle ? though the lack of hunting grounds soon force them to choose between working the plantations for a pittance or starve. Many turns to crime for a living.

4E9 : seeing it's income threatened, the Company's leadership launches a propaganda campaign in Cyrodil, depicting the rebels as a bunch of bloodthirsty cannibals determined to keep the bosmers out of modern civilization and the Company as the benevolent hand extended by the Empire to pull Valenwood out of it's backwardness. Using the populace's indignation, their influence and some hefty bribes they persuade the Elder Council to send several legions to 'protect the Empire's citizens and interests'.

4E10 : facing a real opposition, the rebel tribes gather to execute the Wild Hunt ritual, managing to destroy a whole legion and a large number of colonists, though at hefty cost to themselves as the remnants of the finally defeated Hunt flows back straight in their face.
In reaction, the Legion sends in more troops and begins raids into Valenwood's jungle to catch the rebels, pulling out the latest innovations from the Mage's Guild to pin down the elusive rebels. Their indiscriminate and heavy-handed attacks no only fails to crush the revolt, but drives most of Valenwood into open revolt against the Imperial presence. The 'civilized' tribes aren't much help in the conflict ? their loyalty is questionable at best, unlike their corruption.

4E14 : four years and plenty of deaths later the situation hasn't changed much. The Legion keeps running after the rebels without much success, as the semi-nomadic tribes easily dance around the clumsier legionnaires, not matter what innovation they're fielding. But without suitable equipment and unwilling use the Wild Hunt again, the rebels can only destroy patrols and outposts. With neither side being able to deal a deathblow, the war has turned into a bloody hide-and-seek routine as the Elder Council keeps pouring gold and bodies into the grinder. Fattening the carrion eaters and the contractor's purses in a war where the only thing going well is the body count...

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So you're in the Legion, proud defenders of the Empire and it's centuries old glory... What does it mean in the practical side ? Well, it means you're part and parcel of an organized hierarchy, not in an informal band of money and glory hunting adventurers. More accurately, you're into the fifth company of the Thunderhead legion.

It includes about one hundred men and is divided in ten 10-men squads, each led by a sergeant, usually assisted by one corporal who takes the lead if the sergeant is out our the squad needs to split. Standard designation is by numbers (first squad, second,,,). The first squad is a bit special as it's the captain's bodyguards and frequently the one assigned special missions. Which means it often includes several extra sergeants and corporals. The units specialists (battlemages, healers, communication man) are either directly attached to the captain or included in the first squad according to their ranks.

Yes, you read right, ranks. You're in the army, and rank is the one most important thing for you after your own life and soul.

Captain : commanding the whole company, most of them are picked from the nobility. They're the one calling the shots and their word is company's law ? in theory at least. With the action mostly limited to ambushes and skirmishes, it means there usually nobody who can countermand his orders..
Equipment : standard issue is imperial officer armor and weaponry (high quality steel, roughly equivalent to dwemer armor and weaponry, mithril for light armors). More often than not the weapon is enchanted.
This rank is NPC only

Lieutenant : He's there to assist the captain and learn from him. Which often implies dealing with paperwork and bureaucracy (whatever the captain doesn't likes tends to end up on the lieutenant's plate....). More often than not this rank is bestowed upon young and well educated minor nobility or commoners (most high born skip this rank, unless their families believes in merit-awarded positions). This ranks is also given to specialist like battlemages or healers.
Imperial officer armor and weapons
(positions open)
Support mage (Crecentus Vont - Tabasco)

Sergeants : Commanding a ten-men squad, sergeants are the day-to-day leaders, and according to them the Legion's backbone. Usually promoted from the ranks, they tend to make up in toughness and experience what they're lacking in education.
Steel or mail armor, silver weapons
First sergeant : usually the most experienced sergeant, he's in charge of the first squad, which serves as the captain's bodyguards (and often 'special tasks' squad). Less officially, he's the common trooper's voice to the captain ? and the one dealing with discipline problems unworthy of the captain's attention. Frequently the toughest, meanest fighter in the whole company.
First sergeant : position taken (Groz gro Borack ? William III)
Demolition specialist, first squad (Markus Taylor ? Forrest gump951)
Sergeants (positions open)

Corporals : experienced soldiers who display some potential for leadership or remarkable skills at something. Usually one for each squad, but it can be more, especially in the first squad. Usual rank for the communication specialists.
Steel or mail armor, steel weapons
(positions open)

Soldiers : your regular sword-fodder. In Valewood most of them aren't exactly the cream of the crop, mostly those who don't have better prospects in life or get svckered by recruiters, with a smattering of idealists hoping to bring Imperial civilization in a place where it's benefits are sorely needed (or put the savages back where they belong, not all have the same ideals....)
Steel weapons, iron or leather armor.
(positions open)

Races :
Only the normal races are allowed. A were's wrong times of the month don't fit well with regular troops, and neither would most vampire lineage's sunburn issues.
Bosmers can apply ? whether they're imperialized, have some personal issue with the rebels, were forcibly conscripted or yet another reason. Just don't expect much promotion, no matter why you've joined...

Equipment : most will be standard issue military equipment ? think bland, practical, and often of lousy quality thanks to lowest bidder contracts and corruption. Weapons and armor according to the rank, usually broadsword and shield (not much room for polearms in a jungle). Short sword and crossbow for ranged troops. Armor is usually limited to cuirass/shirt and helmet, sometimes with greaves and vambraces for the officers, Valenwood's hot and moist climate makes complete armors unbearable. Over the armor are a surcoat and an oiled linen hooded cloak, both dyed in shades of green and brown to blend in the vegetations.
Standard issue backpack with one week's worth of food, water purification potions, half tent, blankets, weapon kit, basic hygiene and first aid supplies, flint and tinder, bandages, shovel and one other tool (pick, axe, mattock, nails... all you need to set a proper camp). About 40 pounds to add to your armor and weapons.
Non regulation equipment is definitively frowned upon, at least in the camps and forts, but the higher up the food chain the easier it is to get away with it.


Technology : Not much has changed for the average grunt since the Oblivion Crisis. On a larger scale, Helseth's pro-imperial stance and the destruction of Dagoth Ur have allowed the Empire improved access to dwemer ruins, enabling them to replicate some dwemer technologies, but only a handful of them are showing up in Valenwood :

airships : improved upon Louis Beauchamp's early experiments [the patchwork airship quest from Bloodmoon], they're now sturdy and reliable enough to ship troops and supplies, but remains clumsy and not that fast. But still way faster than moving on foot through a trackless jungle. When crewed with mages they can be used to rain destruction from above, but meaningful targets are few and far between. About immune to arrows, destruction spells are still a danger but they can soak up a respectable amount of damage. An increasingly common sight, but there's not enough of them to guarantee one will be available when you need it.

satchel charges : their military usefulness is obvious, but in this war they're mostly used to clear obstacles and construction work, along with the occasional trap. It's not as if the rebels had much infrastructure of their own to blow up...The Legion is starting to fiddle with dropping enlarged version of the satchel charges and incendiary bombs from airships, but accuracy and fuse reliability remains questionable.

Communicators : a cruder declination of the dwemer machines ranged commands. They enable a two-way voice communication with a range of 50 km and can be tuned to specific resonances. Expensive, fragile and temperamental there's at best on per company, though every airship mounts one. Using them require very little training, though a journeyman level skill with mysticism is required to power them from the user's magicka rather than it's one hour reserve. A backpack-sized contraption of bronze and crystal housed in a light steel casing.

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Character sheet : submit it to me by MP for approval. Only the normal races are allowed, and neither werewolves nor vampires are welcome in the Legion. Here's a model, using the fifth company's captain as an example. Five major and five minor skills, you can add one or two 'for flavor' skills such as taxidermy or playing luthe for free.

Name : Valerius Decunius
Race: Imperial
Age : 35
six : Male

Birthsign : The Lady

Rank : Captain

Class/Skills : Major: long blades, heavy armor, athletism, block, tactics
Minor: short blades, stealth, speechcraft, legion paperwork, orientation

General Appearance : tall and rather wiry in built, with a somewhat thin face and tanned skin. His black hair is kept cut clean and short and he's usually clean-shaven, even in the field.

Mental profile : Rather calm and collected, he strives to be as fair and open-minded as possible. He's an ardent believer in the rule of law and strongly discourage thing like looting and murder, trying to fight the war as cleanly as possible ? the Legion is supposed to enforce Imperial law, not depopulate Valenwood. He don't thinks the war can be won and instead focuses on keeping his men alive.

Armor : dwemer cuirass, greaves and bracers, leather boots and gloves, a steel skullcap under his hat.

Clothing : dark green linen pants and shirt. Camouflaged surcoat and cloak. Wide-brimmed felt hat.

Weapon : imperial steel longsword, enchanted to drain health

Miscellany : telescope, set of maps

Bio : Third son of a minor noble family from the Imperial City, he joined the Legion to escape the prospect of a life of drudgery as a bureaucrat in one imperial Commission or another. Amongst the first Legion officers sent to Valenwood, he soon lost any illusion about the war and didn't make a secret about his opinions. Which means he's still a captain five years later.

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Rules :

- no ?berpowerfull characters. You're an army junior officer at best, not the Champion of Cyrodill or Nerevar incarnate.

- keep your messages in an intelligible language, and keep profanity to readable proportions.

- PM your character sheets for review and approval/tinkering ? think of it as enlisting commission. I prefer to make sure your character will be able to function in the RP

- romance is fine, just keep it tasteful

- same for violence. There will be more than a little, but there's no point in getting too graphic.


That's about it, I'll write the first in-character post very soon. Thanks for reading through that big pile of text.

[OOC : Fort Leafmoth is an ancient masonry fort built along one of the old aldmeri dominion roads. The fort is on the edge of the Empire-controlled section of Valenwood It has been expanded with an earth and wood enclosure to protect the airship landing zone. A wooden palisade has been added around a civilian village of sorts – a ramshackle collection of peasant's hovels, taverns, gambling dens and brothels to serve the soldier's needs that has spontaneously grown at the fort's door. The fort also include a West Empire Company delegation. Home to a ten companies detachment from the Thunderhead legion, of which one third is usually there while the other are either manning outposts or patrolling the jungle in search of rebels.]

As the morning sun barely rose above the thick jungle of Valenwood, Valerius left with a tinge of regret the command post's shelter. Luckly it wasn't raining, but the morning mist nonetheless felt unpleasantly moist and warm. As usual in Valenwood.

He paused a short while, looking the the familiar features of fort Leafmoth, formerly an Aldmeri Dominion outpost. Not much to look at, a square stone walled enclosure with corner towers and one large building housing the command post and officer's quarters along one wall. And wooden barracks in the yard for the troops.

He resumed his walk at a brisk pace, moving to the fifth company's barrack ? his men, a freshly rebuilt company, a mix of survivors from battered units, transferred soldiers from Cyrodill and raw recruits. His to take out in the woods, chasing after the elusive rebels. He reviewed in his mid the orders from the colonel ? taking his troops on a two-days trip for a reconnaissance in force of what the airships thought was a rebel camp. Scout, move in, clear and destroy anything to be found and come back with as much information and prisoners as possible. With the possibility to call for an airstrike if the camp turns out to be larger than expected.

As he entered the barracks, Valerius looked for the first sergeant ? the burly orc shouldn't have had much trouble getting everyone up and ready, but he needed him and the company's specialists to discuss his options. Unfortunately without the presence of a commanding lieutenant as a sounding board. Things got a bit messed up here ? maybe they'll manage to scraqe one from somewhere before we leave.

Name : Groz Gro-Borack.
Race: Orc.
Age : 36.
six : Male.

Birthsign : The Lord.

Rank : First Sergeant.

Class/Skills : Major: Crossbow, Axe/Blunt weapons, Tracking, Survival skills, Athletics.
Minor: Carpentry,Unarmed, Leatherworking, Stealth, Armourer.

General Appearance : Heavy black dreadlocks cover a conventional Orcish face, green, protruding teeth and a chin with a 'noble jut'. Very large Orc, especially in the shoulders and upper body though not particularly tall.


Mental profile : An Orc hunter at his best, driven, very focused, can go days without food or sleep. Turns his nose up at most races except for Orcs, Nords and Dunmer. When not in 'fight mode' and spoken to is rather sociable, but doesn't iniciate conversation often.

Armor : Camoflage painted steel cuirass, leather pants, leather boots.

Clothing : Dark brown linen pants, tan tunic, surcoat and cloak.

Weapon : Oak crossbow with a silver tipped bayonet at the end, 45 silver tipped bolts, steel one-handed axe.

Miscellany : Standard issue backpack, telescope.

Bio : Born to a family of rather successful Orcs, Groz was pressured to go into politics or merchantry. But all Groz ever wanted was to live in a house somewhere outside of Leyawiin (likes the wheather) with a wife and a dog, His father the signed him up to the legion so as to 'straighten the boy out' and get his mind off of 'stupid ideas' and start thinking of the family and money. This happened when Groz was 19. Seventeen years ago Groz was drafted to the Legion, he had a rather successful career, nothing spectacular until four years previously, the Wild Hunt. Being the only member of his squad to make it out alive, Groz was given a medal then sent straight back.

-IC-

Groz sat on his bunk and glared at all of the 'legionnaires' in the barracks, they ranged from fresh-faced recruits who still believed they they were fighting the 'good fight'. To scarred cynical semi-vets who had seen enough combat to know what they were talking about. Finally there were people like Groz, those who had been in the Legion long enough that they could nor would never leave, this 'job' was now their life. The protection of their homelands, a high-and-mighty crusade for their beliefs or simple psychotic rage. Groz had seen it all, unfortunately there was all to much of the latter.

Groz was tinkering with the draw on his crossbow, a specifically made weapon, carved from Valenwood oak and Nordic steel. It helped him in his job as the troops, well it's best described as a 'hunter', Groz could take his crossbow and go out for days without eating and wipeout entire squadrons of Bosmeri buffons.

Most people couldn't believe that an Orc could be stealthy, well to be honest there's not much stealthy about sixteen inches of oak and silver-tipped steel protruding from the briast of a tree-climber scout, but it definately got the job done.

Groz was distracted from his endless tinkering by the entrance of Captain Decunius, being distraced from his bow was something that doesn't happen often legend has it that two legionnaires broke out into a viscious fist fight right in front of the First Sergeant and he didn't do anything about it until he was finished. The Captain, whilst being an Imperial, was a very fair man, he never judged Groz for being an Orc, unlike other Captains Groz had served under, he was a tenascious fighter with his enchanted longsword, he had even saved Groz a few times, which also was on occurence that wasn't often necessary. Groz looked up at the tall Captain as he approached him.

What does the Captain want?
Well ever since the Lieutenant was killed he's kept coming to me so probably wants something.
Aye, well I do know the troops better than him.
And I'm handsomer than him.
Well that's not saying much, I mean he is an Imperial.
Aye.

Name : Markus Taylor (often called "Mark" "Sergeant Mark")
Race: Imperial
Age : 32
six : Male

Birthsign : The Tower

Rank : Sergeant (Also Demolitions Expert; carries satchel charges.)

Class/Skills : Exceptional with both short and long blades, fair with a bow. He's also a pretty good cook.

General Appearance : About 6' 1", Short black hair, lots of stubble from the upper lip around the cheeks to the chin. Above average muscle mass.


Mental profile : He's the strong, silent type, only speaking when he'll add something genuine to a conversation, or when giving orders. The only time he'll ever shout is in the heat of battle or if you somehow manage to get him really angry. When he gets angry, you'll find he has a pretty bad temper.

Armor : Full chainmail, no helm.

Clothing : Normal Legion clothing
Weapon : Silver broadsword, shortbow strapped to his back along with twenty arrows, small survival knife.

Miscellany : Keeps a few coins in his pocket, even though he knows he probably won't get a chance to use them. He also carries three satchel charges in his pack.

Bio :Always overshadowed by his big brother, Dan, Mark joined the Legion to make something of himself. Naturally, Dan joined later and almost immediately became a Lieutenant. Mark, however, never made it past the rank of Sergeant. Although Mark is perfectly happy with this arrangement, he feels a slight envy for his brother.

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Markus walked quickly through the crowd of tents, soldiers, tables, and buildings as he made his way across the grounds of Fort Leafmoth. He had been told to report to the fifth company barracks, that he was being reassigned to the first squad. "First squad," he had said before. "Don't they already have a sergeant?"

The man had replied with a prepared answer. "Yes. But they lost their demo guy a week ago in a raid. You're the only good one we've got available. The only other demo guys we've got here have are the recruits. Recruits! They're just throwing conscripts in now, and handing them satchel charges. You're the most experienced demolitions expert we've got at the fort, so you're assigned to the First squad."

Markus had accepted that and left. Now he was weaving through tents looking for the fifth company barracks. As he passed by the medical facility, a horrid stench filled his nostrils. The smell stung his eyes and made them water. As he got away from it and the smell left his nose, Mark wiped his eyes and saw the sign: a large, wooden post marked 5th Company. He came into the barracks and asked the nearest soldier, "Where's the captain?"

The short, stocky soldier pointed him over to a bunk, where an orc sat, a tall Imperial standing next to him. "Thanks." Mark began to walk toward the Imperial.

As Groz entered the room, Valerius greeted him with a minimal salute - not feeling the need to make a display of military high manners and not expecting them in return - "Greetings sergeant. The company's just got charged with a mission, and I'd like to review it with you and the company's specialists. Nothing fancy or too long, it's a reconnaisance in force. Four to five days depending on what we find."

As he finished his sentence, two peoples came in, one from outside, the other out of the barrack's section reserved for the corporal and sergeant's room. Almost bumping into each other and offering a stark contrast between the mail-clad imperial sergeant and sergeant Fara, commanding the second squad, the company's scouts. The young bosmer woman, wearing a slept-in linen skirt and tunic, squinted and stretched a bit as she entered, performing a somewhat sleepy and hung-over salute.

Valrerius answered the salute, more to the newcomer's intention than for the terminally casual bosmer - and didn't bother with a reprimand - scouts had such an attrition rate that replacing them was a chore, and the skilled ones could get away with much. He also knew from experience that no matter what sloppyness she displayed in camp, Fara could be relied upon to be equiped and ready when they would leave.

Facing the imperial, he spoke "Greeting sergeant. What brings you in here ?". Not just a messenger, he's not prim and proper enough to be from the command post. Must be a replacment.. probably demolition, that's the only empty sergeant slot I have.

Calidus looked long and hard at the piece of parchment he held in his hands, the words working over in his head. Even in his tent, he could feel the first of the morning fog began to cling to the tunic and old trousers he'd slept in, but it was second place to him now; he'd been putting up with the weather of Valenwood for two years now, two long years.

After a time, Calidus finally stated, a tinge of bitterness to his hoarse voice, "Well, I'll be damned." The man bunking above him only murmured in response, stall half asleep. The Imperial stood and rolled his shoulders, stiff from sleeping in the uncomfortable hay stuffed pallet. He looked down at the parchment in his hand again, reading it over in his mind once more.

To whomever it may concern,

It has come to our attention that 2nd Class Private Calidus Draconis has now been serving valiantly for the glory of the Empire in the wilderness of Valenwood for nearly over two years now. Following the dissolution of his last squad at the hands of the rebels, the Empire has found it fit to transfer him to 1st Squad of the Thundermouth Legion, and hence promote him to Corporal, First Class.

Salvius Matticus,

Accounting and Conscription Officer.

Following the apparent "dissolution", or rather horrible deaths of his former squad, at the hands of the local rebels, he was being transferred. If only he'd been sent home, like he'd vainly hoped when he learnt the bitter news; away from the death, away from the damp, but most of all away from the damned jungle. The only upside he could see was that he'd been promoted, but he'd still be treated like a grunt by the rest of the Officers, he knew it.

He'd seen men swiftly rise through the ranks of the Legion, corrupt and unworthy of their rank, while he'd been stagnating as a Private for nearly over two years now, laying his life on the line for his so-called glorious Empire. He didn't give a damn about the Empire, or the Imperial Legion for that matter, but it was his life now, and he'd rather not get an arrow shot through the back of his skull for desertion, or death at the hands of the rebels. The way Calidus saw it, he didn't have a choice. The jungle was his life now.

Calidus sighed, knowing he would have to report in as the new Corporal, Divines know what happened to their last one, and that meant reporting to Captain Velerius, or his Sargeant. The best place to start looking was the barracks. As a Private, and therefore worth only the slighest attention by the Legion, Calidus had been stationed near the Barracks in a scattering of tents, inhabited by men in the same situation as him.

The Imperial put on his uniform and covering surcoat and cloak and stepped out into the damp morning, the sun barely reaching over the trees. Working his way through the labrynth of tents was easy, he'd done it enough times, passing fellow grunts on the way, cleaning the camp, getting ready to go out on patrol. Out in the jungle, the Legion was nothing like it was meant to be; everyone here that wasn't a commisioned Officer was hardly anything more than a thug with a rank to his name. Calidus was no different, and he knew it.

Finally finding his way to the Barracks, Calidus stepped in to find an Orc, a Bosmer, and two Imperials, one Calidus recognised as the Captain. He snapped off a salute that bordered on the insulting, looking at the Captain.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I got some news for you; I'm your new Corporal." He said with a slight tug of a smile, holding the piece of parchment out to the man.

While Validus made his way to the fifth't company barracks, he spotted a squad of first company soldiers, the fort's full-time garrison and police force. Easily identifable in their 'by-the-book' and spotless armor as well as their clean-shaven faces. Homing on him for one of their favorite game : nailing their fellow soldiers to the wall for the smallest stray from the regulations. Much to their captain and the fort's commander delight and the average soldier's chagrin. Fortunately this time they were too far to stop him before he disappeared into the fifth company's barracks...

As the newcomer made his barely acceptable salute, Valerius looked him over before quickly reading the paper he presented. Not the peeved gaze of an insulted peacock, rather he cold 'is that guy trouble or asset' evaluation of an experienced officer. Valerius's face not giving any hint of what he might have concluded. Two years in the woods, that makes him a veteran. But a disgruntled one from the look of him. If he's no more trouble than sloppy salutes, I don't care... Otherwise, Groz should be able to handle the situation.

"Welcome to fifth company, corporal Validus. I'm captain Decunius". Designing Groz with a brief nod he added "first sergeant Gro-Borak will be your squad leader. As we're about to leave for a company strength reconnaissance, bunking details and paperwork will have to wait. We're leaving in one hour, that shoud give you enough time to get ready."

OOC: Short post is short.

IC: Markus approached the captain and gave a quick, orderly salute. "You must be Captain Decunius," he started. "Sergeant Markus Taylor, sir. I'm the transfer from third company." He paused for a second, wondering of that information was necessary. "I'm your new demo guy."

Mark brought his hand down from the salute. This guy seems pretty solid, he thought. Not like the captain from third company...that guy was horrible, can't believe he was made a captain... Mark began to trail off into thought, but caught himself. It wouldn't do him any good to be daydreaming in front of the captain.

"So, sir," he asked the captain. "Where should I report?"

"You'll report to first sergeant Gro-Borak - all squad leaders positions are manned and I'd rather have you free to focus on your specialty than stuck leading a squad. Thought as you've certainly overheard there won't be much time to sort things out before we leave. Equipment won't be a problem, you're already armed and armored and we've enough spare field kits and charges in the company's stores to equip you. Light charges mostly, but even if we find something, I don't think we'll need more to bring it down. But first I'd like to review the mission with you and the other sergeants here.

Valerius motioned the trio of sergeants to the map table, pointing at a position about two days out northwest from the fort. A small hill next to one of Valenwood's numerous lakes. "That's where we're supposed to go. On airship spotted what could be a rebel camp. We're to move there, and if there's really one to take and destroy it and bring back whatever intelligence and prisoners we can get our hands on. If it proves too much for a company, we'll have air support to do the job. According to the colonel, they'll have a brand new airship on hand, specially designed for ground attack, with as much firepower as a squadron of combat mages."

Valerius traced a route on the map with his finger "I'd like to take the road straight west for one day, then head north to the position. Even if it dates back to the aldmeri dominion, it's well maintained. We'll move faster, and if some rebel spy or scout spots us leaving by the road, they might think we're relocating. Even if we get spotted when we go into the forest in the morning, there won't be much time for them to exploit the warning". He paused his explanations, waiting for their opinions.

Calidus had only gave a slight nod in return to the Captain's official introduction. When another man came in, saying he was being transferred as well, the Imperial couldn't help get the feeling that if they needed so many replacements, alot of their previous squad was dead. The Captain, however, seemed a likeable and capable sort; probably not the type Calidus would go drinking and brawling with, but he could live under his command.

As the three sargeant's gathered together, Calidus left without a word, knowing when a Private, a Corporal he corrected himself, wasn't needed. He briskly walked back to his tent on the other side of the barracks, gathering what little belongings and equipment he had. He didn't relish the idea of yet another jungle trek, most likely uneventful as well, but maybe in a capable squad under his new Captain, well maybe they wouldn't all die. One thing was for sure, Calidus sure wanted to see that Orc in action. Stuffing everything he'd need into his rucksack, he wrote a hasty note to his bunkmate, Stephen.

Been transferred to 1st Squad and got myself promoted, fancy that. We're heading out to the jungle within the hour, so won't be back for a while, I'd reckon. Take it easy, try not to get yourself killed out on your next patrol.

Calidus.

Satisfied, he left the note on the top bunk and shouldered his rucksack. Calidus figured the Sargeant's would be pondering their maps and battle plans for a bit longer, so he had some time just to stretch his legs, and take in the sounds, sights and smells of the Fort, definitely not all of them good. But it wasn't the jungle, and that was enough for him to think of it as a resort.

OOC: Will this mission be the whole company or just the 1st squad?

IC: Markus listened intently as the Captain spelled out the plans for them. But there was one flaw Mark couldn't help but point out. "You say they won't be able to exploit the warning?" he started. "With all due respect, sir, I have to disagree. Those scouts can move much faster through the forest than any of our men, let alone all of us as a group. If we're going through the forest, we'll have to move fast, and keep our eyes open. We might just end up walking into an enemy camp that's fully aware of our presence."

Mark finished and awaited the Captain's response, hoping he wasn't making a fool of himself.

[The whole company]
As Markus voiced his concern, Valerius decided his remarks were valid and deserved an answer - being new to the company he couldn't know for how long Valerius had been trekking Valenwood's jungles.

"I've been playing that game for long enough to know we can't move faster than them - especially with a whole company to keep together. I hope we can catch them with their pants down, but I don't expect to get more than arriving before they can pack all they have and leave."

He grimaced slightly

"If they're still there, that will mean either a permanent facility - a supply depot, and hospital or the like - or a large enough camp they can't empty quickly. One hundred of them or more. Whith that sort of number, it means keeping them fixed and not getting in before the airships have broken their back."

Groz looked up from his crossbow to the fully mail-clad sergeant.

'Hah, we don't need to be faster, we need to be smarter and less cowardly. Though as we're talking about damned tree-climbers we'll only need to be smarter.'

Groz then looked the newcomers to the squad up and down. The mail-clad Imperial Sergeant and the merc-like, arrogant Imperial Corporal.

'They'll do.' grunted Groz to the Captain. 'Though this one.' Added the Orc gesturing to the leathery skinned Corporal. 'Needs to learn some damn respect, else he'll find himself cleaning the companies latrines for a fortnight.'

Buckling his axe and quiver to his belt, Groz raised himself off of the chair, snapped off a quick salute and strode towards the makeshift 'control room' slapping a soldier from the seventh company in the back of the head for being in their barrcks.

Name : Leon Falerus
Race: Imperial
Age : 39
six : Male

Birthsign : The Tower

Rank : Sergeant of the Third Squad

Class/Skills : Major: long blade, heavy armor, athletism, block and assertion
Minor: short blades, bow, speechcraft

General Appearance : Leon is 5 foot 9. He has a stocky build and his long hair falls loose around his face when not wearing a helmet, unless it is a formal occasion, at which point he may tie it back. He is usually clean-shaven and has an intimidating look about him.

Mental profile : In the face of danger, Leon is usually cool and calm. He will face adversaries without underestimation, knowing that at any point they could do something unexpected. Around soldiers, he is quick to reprimand those who are defiant, but is has a likeable character. He is witty and often a hit with some of the more unsavoury ladies.

Armour: Legion Uniform. Legion Cuirass, Greaves, Pauldrons, Gloves and Helmet. He also carries a legion Broad shield, which is strapped across his back.

Clothing : A Leather Cuirass with common clothing to accompany it.

Weapon : Imperial Long Sword, a Bow that he doesn't always have with him and a dagger concealed in his boot.

Miscellany : Map, some gold and a few potions. A locket containing a picture of his father.

Bio : Born a Motherless child, his matriarchal figure dying at child birth, Leon (Leo to most) was raised by his Father. He Father was a hard-working man, and had little time for his son, but managed to create a steady environment for his boy to grow up in, and teach him all the disciplines and morales necessary to become a soldier. At the age of sixteen he was accepted into the legion, slowly accumulating ranks until he was once a captain. However, after just three weeks in his post, he was acquitted of his title after committing an unspeakable act, and was demoted to the lowest of ranks, serving as what could only be described as a pack-mule for three hundred a sixty five days, before eventually being given foot soldier status. He has slowly worked his way up, and is now Sergeant of the Third Company, a role he feels that this time, he has truly earned.

--------------------------------

Leo awoke to the sound of clattering, orders and general soldier banter. As he did every morning, he got out of bed and checked his face for stubble. A lot could be said about a man's character from the tameness of his beard. Or so his Father always used to say. With a slight smile Leo pulled on his uniform, heavy and unsuitable for almost every weather condition, and left his room, nodding to men as he passed them.

His lungs filled with fresh air as he came outside, squinting in the morning sun. Thank the Nines its not raining, Leo thought to himself as he exited. He was looking for Hilarious Valerius, a name he had long ago adopted as his superiors pseudonym, although of course one he would never utter aloud when in the man's presence. Fierce in battle and a charismatic leader, Leo had no doubt that the Captain would take his head clean off in a fight. Not exactly a push over himself, there were few he was in awe of, but Hilarious was one of them.

He saw the man stood talking to Groz, the First Sergeant. Leo strode over, noting that he was both Valerius and Grozs' subordinate. As he neared, he allowed not a smile to cross his face, his expression remained blank and unreadable. Sooner than he realised, he was in front of the men. He saluted, turning on his heel to both the men in turn, before returning his hand to his side.

He waited for Valerius to finish speaking before saying anything,

"Sir, what is to happen today? My Squad can be ready to move out as soon as is needed." Leo was always keen to move. He waited with anticipation for an answer.

As the first sergeant left, Fara muttered under hear breath "Yeah right. You're facing someone half your weight, two third of your reach, poorer weapons and armor, and you call cowardice his preference for growing feathers on your hide rather than trying to jump you. I'd call that common sense."

As she felt everyone's gaze on her, she offered her best 'who me ?' innocent smile, before repeating her comment in a more military wording, while Valerius held a sigh. He had long given up any hope to bring his best scout to more than a remote approximation of proper military bearing. No matter how irritating she can be, she's too good to leave behind in a cell.

"No matter what sergeant Gro-Borak says, the rebels aren't coward. They know that in ra egular melee they'd get trounced something fierce ? and will do their damned best to keep out of it." Looking at the map with a disgusted face "And that area is amongst the finest places to do it. I've been there, and I can tell you it's called woodrot lake for a reason. The whole place is swampy and overgrown. There's a strip of higher ground leading to the hill, but if there's a large camp there, it will be thick with traps, firing positions and the like. One the good side, it will be as hard for them to get out than for us to get in."

As Leo asked about what would happen, Valerius gave him a brief salute and an equally brief resume "We're leaving for a reconnaissance patrol with the whole company. Five days out, we're leaving in one hour." Pointing the position for him on the map "Here, the hill near rotwood lake. An airship has spotted what might be a rebel position. We're to check the place and gather whatever intelligence and prisoners we can."

Leo nodded to his captain. He did not need any more explanation. He also did not need all that information. His superior was basically saying, You have one hour, be ready to move. That was all Leo needed to know. He made his way back to the barracks in which his squad was housed. Under his helmet, his breathing was steady and collected, although the metal was itching terribly on his skin. They had always been uncomfortable, those helmets. He smiled a wry smile to himself as he continued towards the building. His men would not let him down. All them had brave hearts, and he was sure that they would follow him into the grave.

He came to the stairs that led up to the complex and nodded as another soldier he knew passed him. He did a lot of nodding. It was something that he had never really picked up on. It was too hectic to stop for a chat, so instead Leo tended to just nod, hoping that the men understood the words that he had no said. A more important hope though, was that his squad was up and ready. An hour was not a long time, and Leo wanted to brief them all before they headed out. There was no room for mistakes, and he had built a reputation on making very few mistakes.

Fortunately for him, his men were all awake and ready to move. Some lay on their beds, reading, others sharpening tools and weapons. One man had his head in his hands for his morning prayer. As a gesture of politeness, Leo waited for him to look up from his pious act before speaking. The man finished and directed his gaze at Leo, blushing furiously at having made him wait. Leo waved his embarrassment away with a wave of his hand, and addressed the men.

"We leave in an hour. Five days out. A reconnaissance patrol with the whole company. That's you too, Slorter" He said, glaring at an officer who stared grumpily at the floor upon hearing the news. He understood the pain, five days out could be the last five days of your life here, but that was what they signed up for, and that was how it was going to work. "It's nothing too heavy. An airship, by Rotwood lake. We're to check it out and check if there are any prisoners worth taking or if there's any information we can gather. Keep your fingers crossed (A joke he made every time about one of the men who had lost his middle finger in a previous conflict) and we might not meet anyone. Be out in the courtyard in. Forty minutes." More grumbling followed the realisation that they had an hour until they had to leave but were wanted outside in forty minutes. "Sorry boys, but you know the routine. Kit checks, exercises and all that. Best make it half an hour come to think of it." With that, he saluted his squad and headed back outside towards Valerius.

Having briefed his subordinates on what they were supposed to do, Valerius went about keeping an eye on the preparations to leave. Some captains keep the mission to themselves, on the notion that mens might get captured ans spill it to the rebels. It's not false, but it means they're only one stray arrow from not knowing what they're supposed to do. And the more they know about it, the easier they can spot and exploit opportunities...

Before the requested hours had been spent, the soldiers were ready, their packs loaded and their equipment complete. As they left their barracks, Valerius made sure they were arrayed in proper ranks and files before making the roll call. Under the watchful eye of the first company, always eager for catering to the fort's commander taste for 'proper military discipline' That's just stupid. These mens aren't raw recruits who needs breaking in, and the rebels won't be impressed with parade ground drills. But he's in charge, and if want neat ranks, I'll give him neat ranks rather than wasting mens in the slammer.

As he made the call he noticed some muffled laughters as sergeant Fara made faces at the first company's squads as soon as they didn't look at her. Wearing a bosmeri leather and bone scales armor rather than anything standard issue, adorning it with a brightly colored silk scarf ? she had a a whole collection of them and swapped them with each mission, using them to identify herself when coming back to the company. She's even got an official dispensation allowing her to use non regulation equipment when in the field. Issued by no les than the Valenwood High Command. It throws the first company's bullyboys into a hissing fit, and I don't even want to know how she's got it, but it saves me a lot of headaches.

Leo and his squad were outside on time for the roll call, barking their names as they were read. Leo remained still, in his place. In his rank. A rank he would probably never exceed. He was old now. His limbs ached from long years of fighting, every new wound raw against his skin. He could have been someone much higher now, he would be the Superlative. Alas, no. He was to stand in line, waiting attentively for his name to be read from a list. He was a statistic. Nothing more than an unknown face on a list.

Despite this, he was content. His pay was good and when the time came, his retirement would be comfortable. Presuming he lived to see it. Not a thanataphobic, not scared of death, he was dimly aware of the fact that he could die in each mission he attended. The thought however, was quickly brushed aside. He had been lucky so far, why not now?

His name was called and he shouted, "Present, Sir!" in response, then returning to his stationary position, awaiting the roll call to finish and the Company to set off.

Markus arranged himself into the ranks and files, as he secured his pack. Down the line, he noticed a bosmer girl making faces at the first company. Is she on my squad? he thought as he tried to hold in a little chuckle; the bosmer's face just contorted into the most unbelievable shape. Markus looked away, not wanting to make a fool of himself during roll call. He looked at his belt to make sure his sword was fastened, and thought about their mission. It would take a while to get used to his new squad, but this wasn't the first time he had been transferred; The new demolitions recruits somehow made a habit of blowing themselves up, and someone had to replace them.

So Markus was glad he was put into such a high-ranking squad. For once, he wouldn't have to work with those bawling new recruits. For once he would be around people who knew what they were doing. And for once, nobody would scream for their mothers when they got caught in a tight spot. He hated the mother-screamers.

When his name was called, Fanier yelled out "Present, sir!" and went on thinking.

As the roll call went on, Markus saw that the bosmer was not in his squad, seeming to lead the second squad. A not-so-probable bunch of odd and ends, mostly clad in leathers and lights mails that, coupled with the number of crossbows and their lightened backpacks screamed 'scouts' to anyone with his experience.

Soon everyone was accounted for and Valerius commanded the company to march on, in an almost neat order. Saluting the flag as he passed in front of it, before leaving through the fort's main gate.

They crossed the outer yard, a newer construction of timber and packed hearth that protected the airship landing area, then Leafmoth, the village who had grown to service the fort and it's garrison. As the soldiers went through, the resident's came out to have a look, including a bunch of hokers, most of them of female persuasion, though some male and others undermined. Cheering and displaying their goods, reminding the troops of what would await them when they would be back and get their pay.

Once everyone was left, Valerius relaxed No more first company morons to watch every last strap and buckle for spit and polish. As if you could judge a soldier solely on what he looks like. ""Company, get into marching order. Five men abriast, five yards in between each squad. Sergeant Fara, take your scouts out ? I doubt we'll be under attack this close to the fort, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Maybe you'll catch a spy."." A formation open enough that a volley of arrow or a spell wouldn't hit the whole company, but close enough to let them form ranks in case of trouble.

As the scouts dispersed themselves into the wood, preceding and flanking the column, Valerius ordered the troops forward, setting a pace brisk enough to get them where he wanted by nightfall while remaining fit for combat. One hour later, he called for a ten minute pause, letting the men get some rest and rotating them to let those on the formation's edge keep a fresh eye for watching the forest.

Watching the new recruits pant and sweat made Groz smile. It brought him back to when he was a fresh faced recruit, hating his father, hating his enemy and hating his superiors. Not much had changed in the following seventeen years, except that Groz started to dislike all Bosmers, not just the ones he fought. The wild hunt had 'changed' his perception of the tree-climbing, plant-loving miniscule folk of Valenwood.

Whereas once the grizzled Seargeant had viewed them as small, but completely normal beings with annoying voices and an unhealthy obsession with plants. He now saw them as they truly are, viscious animals who will rip apart their own people and break the basic rules of battlefield honour to get the 'invaders' out of their territory.

Groz didn't see the legion as invaders, whats wrong with having your armed men in someone elses land? The legion sure did it to Orsinium.

Pulling his custom made crossbow to a more comfortable spot on his shoulder, the dreadlocked Orc walked to the Captain. The captain was a good man, far too lenient though, had Groz been able too he would've set the lazy, gaudily clad 'scout' Sergeant Fara to carry the food like all lazy soldiers. It wasn't because she was a she, or because she is a Bosmer. No, Groz didn't let his racism effect his like of the tiny scout, she had good instincts and good tactical descisions. Looking off at a group of tired legionnaires rest their legs Groz muttered to the Captain 'Sir, I don't like admitting it but Sergeant Fara was right, Woodrot lake will be the death of far too many of these children, you've seen these bloody tree-climbers fight. They have no mercy and they don't care how many of us they pincushion.' growling Groz added 'This won't end well'.

Leo marched at the head centre of his squad, towards the rear of the throng of the company. Shaking his head at such folly, he continued to walk, pondering the threat threat of the greenery around them. The trees held unforseen enemies, and Leo was sure that many of the men would not see the prosttutes they had left at the village again. It was amazing. How could the Captain allow this march to go ahead? So exposed to those who know the jungle so much better than they did.

After about an hour, it was deemed that there would be a break from marching for ten minutes. Choosing not to sit down, or take shelter under a nearby tree as many of the other men did, he simply took off his helmet which was giving him an awful discomfort in the heat, and lit up a hand-rolled cigarette.

Inhaling deeply, he looked around at the other troops. All of them were aware, alert, but Leo wasn't convinced that they were prepared to die for their country, out of the way in a remote corner of the world, far from their homes or families of State they are fighting for. Leo shook his head once more, then glanced up to the canopies of the trees above them, as he often did, to check that there weren't unseen archers.

After the ten minute break, the company was rotated. Leo's squad was moved to the outside left, middle of the column. Leo opted for a position on the far hand side, closest to the forest. That was one thing that wasn't a perk of his job. Being a leader and often having to set an example for the men, he was usually forced into dangerous positions that most would not have to worry about being put into. It was an important place to be, for if he missed an attacker, or failed to notice an ambush, it was likely that some of his men would perish in the fray.

Shaking his head again at the march, he kept his eyes out for any perpetrators lurking in the nearby shrubbery.

As the men rested, Valerius listened to Groz's grumblings. "I know sergeant Fara's a bit of a pain... well, an hefty bit at times ? but I prefer not to keep her and her scouts on too tight a leash. No matter how I deplore it, what makes a good scout is almost the reverse of what makes a good soldier. And considering the casualty rates for scouts compared to regular soldiers, I'd say they deserve a bit of slack... especially if we want some volunteers for the job.

But I agree with you, Rotwood lake sounds like a mess. We've been granted air support, I won't wait to lose half of the company before calling it in. At the first hint of stiff resistance, I'll call the airships and won't get in before they've torched the place. But you're wrong when you say the rebels don't care for how many of us they turn into pincushions. They try to get as much as possible, same as we're trying to get as many of them as we can."

Valerius paused a short while, memories from his service flowing in, his gaze darkening, before resuming in a lower voice, for the first sergeant's ears only. "But as far as mercy go, after seeing what the Legion sometimes did on the West Empire Company's behalf, I can understand, if not excuse, what they're doing."

While they were resting, a bright flash of yellow silk could be spotted in the leaves, as a signal before sergeant Fara came back form the wood, barely disturbing a leaf as she moved ? a task made easier by her lightened pack.

"So far so good captain, no fresh trace of rebels. Only thing we've found is a lookout about two miles from the fort. Three of them hidden, most likely to keep an eye on the road, but it's been empty for a week. If there's someone holed up by the lake, they could get warned in time to set an ambush along the road, two days west of the fort. Letting it unmanned might mean they've packed up, or were around just to record the fort's schedules, but I'm short on pieces to sort the puzzle."

[OOC : I've skipped things forward to the evening, which is more suited to character interaction]

Having reported, Fara left, joining the scouts to keep their watch out in the jungle, making sure no large threat was sneaking around.

Once the ten minutes had elapsed, Valerius ordered everyone forward, making sure the new ordering had new people on the formation's edges, whose attention hadn't been worn by the first hour's march. With the scouts moving out in the forest, we're about as safe as we can be. They might miss a handful of scouts sending some arrows our way, but not a trap large enough for the whole company.

As they marched forward, there was next to nothing to interrupt the monotonous trek ? the ever present jungle on the roadsides didn't change much, and the scouts reported almost nothing. The only hints of rebel presence were several days old at the freshest, seeming to hint they had moved somewhere else, or at least were making themselves scarce. Even the midday pause and quick lunch didn't make much to break the routine ? Legion travel rations was a usual on the lower edge of edible. Dried meat and cheap hardtack might sustain the body, but couldn't make much for the morale...

As the night came closer, the company finally caught side of where Valerius had planned to camp for the night ? an already prepared position on the roadside. Not much to speak of, a ditch and earthen rampart enclosing a square area, with the jungle cleared around for close to one hundred yards. As they came closer, Fara and one of her scouts came out, having moved farther to make sure nothing untoward waited for them inside. Her face more serious than was usual.

"No nasty surprise sir, but some rebels were there two days ago. Looks like they... well, sort of left a message sir..." She paused a short while, thinking about what to suggest "I'd have cleared it, but it was a bit much of it for that. You'd better not send the fresh recruits in before it's been sorted out.". Lowering her voice to keep said new recruits from hearing. "They... well.. Oh crap no need to sugarcoat it for you sir. Seems they've caught three legionnaires somewhere and brought them here for a feast. And made sure to leave the proof out in plain sight. Maybe to scare the recruits out."