War of the Lost Kingdom

11th of Fen, 4E219

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Birds began chirping in slow waves around the fort, with the dark of night slowly being dispelled by a hidden sun. A sharp horn rang out into the crisp morning air, signalling first light. This horn was loud enough to pierce into the barracks of the fort. Shortly after the horn sounded the third time, An officer burst into the main barracks, announcing breakfast at 0500, in 30 minutes, in the dining hall. He slapped at the posts of bunks with a cudgel at random, announcing his message with the gusto of somebody overjoyed in waking people up who would rather be asleep. After a solid two minutes of his announcement as he navigated the barracks the majority of the party was in, he left to torture another room.

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The soldier shrugged as he strapped his Lorica into place. "Your loss. Be at the noon meeting. It has to do with where your troops are being deployed."

The officer that Johann was chewing out very studiously ignored him, yelling out his message and banging with his cudgel at random. It seems his words were having little to no effect on the man, who went on in waking the barracks up.

Finn managed to wake people up not with his voice, but with the magic he was employing. People still gave him sour looks, and a particularly nasty looking group seemed to be coalescing and following Finn with some purpose behind it. They looked grumpy, rudely awakened by something they didn't understand, and ready to hit something. As soon as the officer left the barracks, they converged on him, boxing him in between a sequence of bunks as the group was 6 strong.

The surliest looking, a man who was in nothing but wide-brimmed pants, was leaning on a long, thin hammer staff. He looked tired and hungover.


"Halfling, we're getting sick and tired of you bandying about the devil's arts. We don't know how you got here, but we'd like you to leave." He had a very thick accent, immediately discernible as that of Southrun. The other five of the group, most of which in pyjamas, were all nodding in appreciation of the statement.

One, who was wearing a nightcap and was leaning on a bedpost behind Finn continued. "And iffin you try anyfin, we's gonna beat the snot outta you. Nobody's gonna defend you." His accent was more sharp. Likely Morvethi.



Greta and Doc were both on the way out of the barracks, but could hear the commotion. Johann could also hear what was going on, though he was on the other side of the room near the exit.

Two of the meatheads - the one with the nightcap and one with an eyepatch wearing a sleeping robe - fell unconscious to the floor, with the former snoring almost comically loudly. The spell that Finn had cast had required a complicated motion of his hands, with strings of ethereal energy at his fingertips tracing very scary looking patterns. There was a heartbeat of quietened gasps.

Then, with all the subtlety of a cannon blast, the shirtless man roared out an expletive, hefting his hammerstaff and preparing a blow, though not actually swinging. Another beefy mercenary, who sounded like he was babbling something in muldini of all things, angled in to tackle Finn to the ground, aided by yet two other bodies that sought to dogpile this tiny frame.

Finn managed to hop up on top of the first man with ease. However, the man moved oddly, causing Finn to lose his footing, and he was subsequently beaten to the floor by sweaty, sleepy dude bodies. He was on top of one, so that broke his fall a bit, but they had a nasty habit of being punchy. They both aimed to knock him out while the one still standing was trying to poke at Finn with the butt of his hammerstaff. The man finn was on top of was trying to scramble out from beneath everybody.

The man below Finn scrambled away while the group began whaling on the still struggling halfling.