RP:Defending Cenril;Building a militia

From HollowWiki

Part of the Conquest:The Return of the Prek Arc


Summary: The build up of Cenril defenses continues as Fold officers enter the city and attempt to recruit the citizenry for an armed militia. A recruitment tent for soldiers and healers is set up. Donations petitioned from the armory, and the evacuation of non-combat citizens begun.Lithrydel's Guard is allied to the cause.

Characters: Djarun, Calthyr, Neema, Aranhil, Rolan, NPC militia.

LOCATION: Cenril town Square’’’


Djarun stands stoic and stiff amid the nearly deserted town square, eyes to the sky as dark clouds swirl overhead. Rain pours down in great sheets blanketing all which is touches and leaves Djarun both wet and freezing, yet he ignores it. This storm, the dark clouds, the monumental feeling that something powerful was just over the horizon both physically and metaphorically only drove him harder. "Two days...." he thought to himself, " I have less than two days to make this city defensible, and I must not fail." He sighs, pulling a small bit of chord from his pocket and using it to tie back his thick dreadlocks before glancing around. Djarun makes a mental checklist, running over all of the preparations he had decided were most necessary as he begins to pace. "How the hell am I going to raise an army, single handedly, in less than two days?" He mutters, trying to wrap his mind about the task as the rain continues to buffet him.

Calthyr :: War. This was what Cenril had to prepare for...and it was far from an easy task. This was what the exiled general loved to prepare for. This was what he lived for. "On me...preparations are a must." The elf called back to some Cenrilians(maybe that's what they're called?) to come forth with him. The elf freezes when he spots Djarun, now looking quite well and eager to begin the fortification. "Djarun, how are you fairing?" The colonel asks as he halts before the man, several Cenrilians trailing behind him.

Neema wasn't very good at the whole flying through the rain thing, so she walked, the oversized brim of her big hat working as an umbrella of sorts to keep her dry, minus the wings. And her socks. She fidgets uncomfortably, not at all sure if she's prepared with what would happen in the next few days. The avian wasn't even exactly sure what to do, for the most part, but thought maybe it would be a good idea to check out Cenril, having never been there before herself. So there she is, wandering aimlessly, resisting that childish urge to go hop into some of the puddles forming on cobblestones, when she happens to wander by a gathering of people, including two faces she recognized but had completely forgotten their names. Calthyr and Djarun. She moves over toward the men, trying her hardest not to slip and smack her face against the ground, and greets. "Hi. Er.." She still couldn't get their names straight. How awkward.

Djarun turns as he notices the appearance of several newcomers to the city plaza, Calthyr he recognized readily having seen him earlier today and it appeared that the elf was already proving useful, having brought several lost looking citizens with him. The other he was unfamiliar with, an awkward woman who was.... for lack of a better word.... kind of ridiculous, in appearance at least. He turns to address Calthry first, taking to a tone of command which was indicative of the task he had been presented with. "I am well enough, though that is not the issue which needs discussing right now. I see you've received the mandate?" without waiting fully for a response he turns to the woman whom had just walked up and spoken words of greeting. "Well met miss, and you're name would be?"

Calthyr :: The elf simply nods to the man's questions before he then turns to find the newest arrival to the fortification of the city. "More asisstance is always appreciated." With that, the elf continues, the rain only a small nuisance. Turning quickly to the confused men before him, Calthyr speaks. "There is to be an attack here. It is your duty, your obligation, to allow no invaders to bring siege upon your city successfully. It is my request that you leave here, and collect those who are both willing and able to asisst in the fortification and strengthening of Cenril. Do not fail." With that the elf turns once more. "Djarun, where shall we begin? Shall it be a group effort or shall we simply split and take charge of differing sectors of the city..."

Neema felt kind of out of place, and that was probably evident by the puzzled look she made at people gathered. That didn't last for long. She cast a glance over at Djarun. "Neema. I thought I'd drop by and help out." The avian paused, dull eyes going from him, to the elf, then to the others. She wasn't even sure of what she could do to help in the first place."..Somehow. If you want me to, anyway." Thin digits scratched at the side her nose.

Djarun glances at the man whom Calthyr was speaking to, a slightly scrawny human man, likely a merchant, and he seemed entirely terrified by the prospect of fighting a war. "Calthyr, may I have a word with you?" He says, though it was less of a question and more of a request as Djarun turns away from the group and takes several steps off from the group. Assuming that Cal would follow Djarun would turn to him and speak in hushed tones. "We must be very careful here Calthyr, remember that we are guests and that this is their city. Nay, more than that this is their home. We shall gather whom we can, and we will turn none away who show a true desire to aid in the defense, but it must be voluntary. Resist from giving orders whenever possible, remember we are here to help them, not the other way around." Djarun pats Calthyr on the shoulder once, his signal that their little talk would be concluded as the tall 'human' turns back to face the slowly assembling crowd of citizens. He addresses the woman first, "Ah, Neema. I believe i've heard your name mentioned by some of the other fold members, you -are- fold, yes? Don't worry, there is plenty to do and you'll be a great help." Djarun smiles warmly to her, despite the darkened sky and relentless rain which showed no signs of stopping anytime soon, after a moment his voice rises up over the various conversations that had broken out among those citizens assembled. "My name is Djarun, simply Djarun, this is no time for titles and pleasantries. This man here" Djarun motions idly to Calthyr "Is Calthyr, a friend of mine and fellow member of the Fold." Djarun then motions to Neema in turn "And this is Neema, another of our group." With the introductions concluded he continues "You may have heard that the Preklek have set their sights on Cenril, and unfortunately I must now confirm the rumors. The Preklek will come, and if nothing is done to stop them they will kill many. We will do what we can to prevent this, yet in any war there are uncertainties and risks, it is my advice that if you have any loved ones incapable of defending themselves they should flee the city. If that is not a possibility we will be setting up a temporary shelter for those who need shelter and safety." Djarun's voice echoes across the main square as more and more citizens begin to appear, drawn from their homes by the impromptu gathering. The people gathered round all seem somber and they carry on fearful conversations between themselves. "Over the next two days I will personally be doing everything I can to transform Cenril into a defensible position, and put in place as many safeguards as is possible." Djarun pauses giving the people time for his edict to sink in before continuing. "I will not lie, the situation is dire, yet if we all pull together and do our part many lives may be saved. I am setting up a temporary command center in this very square, and if you know -anyone- who feels as I do, that Cenril must be saved at any cost, then please send them here. There will be a group of Fold soldiers here to accept donations and register those seeking to join the militia. Yet for now, it is important for this message to be spread through every street, brought to every set of ears." Djarun pauses again, possibly just for effect, or possibly to collect his thoughts, yet when his voice resurfaces it is proud and powerful. "Cenril must not fall!"

Calthyr :: The elf follows, and listens, and then takes the information as just that, information. "At this point, I feel as if urgency is a necessity. The ordering however, I will cease." With that, the elf nods to the man and turn back to the crowd. As Djarun speaks to the group, azure eyes meticulously study the group of citizens that slowly form about the circle. 'These citizens are not meant to fight...' the colonel places the doubt amongst the deepest of his thoughts, repressing it as best as he can. Turning to Djarun after the speech, Calthyr raises a hand in the air as to rally the crowd. After several cries of Cenril's resistence, and the subsequent boost of morale, the elf turns to the group of citizens. "Let us begin evacuating those who cannot assist immediately. Upon your return...we will commence the fortification of your homes, your city, your world!" With that, the elven male turns to Djarun. "Where shall we begin the fortification? Are we aware of where the preklek will first attempt to strike? Where they will appear? My assumption would be from the west, however it is only my assumption." Calthyr turns and nods, for the crowd was dispensing, and the sense of urgency and raw determination was clearly evident upon the faces of the citizens. Soon, perhaps Cenril will become more than just a city, but a military base in which no preklek would ever seize.

Neema didn't do very much besides stand and wait for Calthyr and Djarun to return from speaking privately. Again, more awkward fidgeting. She felt completely out of place, but hopefully there would be something for her to actually do to contribute. Once both males have returned, Neema turns her attention away from the citizens of Cenril gathering and over to Djarun. She nods. "Yep, I'm part of The Fold.." A half smile is produced, a clear sign of the uneasiness of this entire situation that she had. The avian adjusts her hat, bending the brim a bit in front of her face at an angle so rain doesn't run off and hit her. Djarun's speech gave her a much-needed morale boost, even if she continued to fidget. From there she fell silent, waiting for some kind of instruction while watching the crowd begin to dissipate.

Djarun can't help but smile a little bit as he sees the glimmer of hope start to build within the eyes of Cenril's citizens, or at least the small selection of them which had shown up in the square. Sensing that his speech was done a good number of them meander away, though it is not home that they go, but rather to spread the news they had just heard, the bad news, but also the good news, which was that they were not alone. Djarun turns away from them finally and begins responding to Calthyr "First things first, we need to increase our numbers. Once we have some aid the fortifications will go much more swiftly, then of course we'll need to arm the men we do get an-" yet Djarun pauses as a group of four men approach him outright from the crowd. They stand out instantly from the average citizenry which had been assembled, tall men, proud and muscled with heads held high. "Yer bein Djarun, ya?" One man asks, and Djarun nods in response "I am, is there anything I can help you with?" "We heard what'chu said just now, and we support you." The first man continues, and the other all make little motions of affirmation. "We wanna fight wi'tchu when them Prek monsters come, show em Cenril aint just some place they can walk in and take." Djarun casts them an appraising look, his eyes moving from one to another in turn. "I think you'll be a great aid to us." He says, "Perhaps you can begin helping now, as I have something which needs doing." The men look between each other, and then the one whom seems to be the communal speaker responds with a "Aye, an' what would that be?" Djarun points to an area not far off where a group of the Fold's soldiers were working and erecting a small kiosk with a makeshift canopy to prevent the rain complicating things. "Soon as they're set up you should go and register, give them your names, your ages, let them know of any special skills you have. When you're done with that you should see about helping us get armaments, as we don't have enough to supply everyone. I hear there is a weapons shop in town, and an armorer as well, perhaps you can see if they would be willing to make donations to the militia." The men all nod, accepting the tasks without question "Aye, we ken do that." the leader responds, "Great, I'll check in on your progress in a while. Tell them to bring any donations here to the command center and we'll start passing it around tomorrow after the training sessions." The men then excuse themselves and make their way toward the soldiers whom had just finished getting the canopy in place. "I have a good feeling about those ones." Djarun comments to Calthyr before he walks over to Neema. "You have any skills, talents, areas of proficiency that might be of use?" he questions seriously, though Djarun can't help but sport a sly grin at the woman's attire and attitude.

Calthyr :: With ease, Djarun moves the citizens and Calthyr continues to do the same. Another group of three, seeming to be brothers, all approach the elf at about the same time the first group approached Djarun. "We er willin to help too." The tallest says quickly. Calthyr nods as well, sending the three toward the same tent as before. With the group that remains, eyes begin to flick from individual to individual, attempting to assume what abilities they could have that would be of great use. The colonel steps forward, waving both hands in the air. "Any of you healers or users of the arcane, please step forward." Azure eyes turn to Djarun as a small group of citizens, from both old woman to young males, step forward. "Perhaps we need to begin the construction of a med station as well. Also, those who are capable of utilizing the arcane may form their own private regiments, and they can asisst much faster when together." The elf turns back to the small group before him. "Those of you who are able to asisst through the ability to heal, please gather yourselves before heading toward the registration tents as to make organization a much quicker task." He smiles to the group. "We will be sure to preserve this city in little time now." A nod is given to Djarun's words as he speaks to Calthyr of the group of muscled men before azure eyes turn once more to the gathering before him. "Those who utilize the arcane for offensive and defensive purposes...seperate into your own groups as well. Discuss with one another and form near the registration tents. It will make this process much smoother and allows all of you ample opportunity to meet those who you will be fighting alongside." Calthyr then turns to Djarun once more. "I pray that more Cenrilians are to arrive, for this will be a very long two days without the asisstance of the citizens."

Neema continued her silent observing, and now instead of fidgeting she began chewing on one of her jagged fingernails. Why couldn't she just stay still? With a bit of reluctance the avian forced herself to stop, thin hand dropping down to her side while she carefully shook her wet black wings. Again, her dull eyes rested on Djarun, noting his grin but unsure of the meaning behind it. "I'm a healer," she replied, "I can fight too. Never picked up a sword before, though. Just staffs and flails. Air magic as well." Neema would've provided an example with the air magic, but didn't. She couldn't control the force of it and didn't want to knock down any passersby with one of her mouth tornados. " She produced a grin of her own, but it was more goofy looking than it was sly. "I don't look like much, but I'm tough. I think." Winged shoulders shrugged. Only a few people had actually seen her fight before, so she might be really wrong about her opinions of herself.


Djarun smiles to Neema as she answers his questions and knowing it was bad he couldn't help but think of the woman as tough, although he had learned long ago that appearances were deceiving. "Well we'll have a great use for those who can fight when the invasion force arrives, but for now practical skills are of a great help as well. You said you can heal? Perhaps you could help us set up our medical station. Choose a location that is roughly centralized and defensible, and start organizing whatever other healers you can find. Doctors, nurses, those with magical ability. I'm sure you can get some people to help you out as well, as it looks like we're already receiving some volunteers. If you need anything or you have any questions feel free to track me down, I'll be close by." Djarun then turns back to Calthyr, who was helping to group the potential registrants together and get them going. "he's got organizational skills." Djarun thought to himself, as the perfect job comes to mind, one that would require being able to keep track of many people at once and get them all settled. "Calthyr, I want you to begin the evacuations of all citizen homes. Set up a shelter, somewhere set back and out of sight that can accommodate a large number of people. Getting all of the old and young to safety should be one of our first priorities and there is an old castle near the harbor which might serve well, though if you find somewhere better then by all means. Once that's done take some of our volunteers with you and go door to door, be as polite and helpful as you can but make sure they understand the seriousness of the situation." Djarun glances around the square, the number of citizens still milling around having shrunk considerably "I'm going to go around and see if I can't get more people to join up, there should be a good number of sailors in the harbor and if I can sway them i'm sure they would be a great help. They're used to physical labor at the very least, and some may have already seen some combat, fending off raiders and pirates. Not only that but they're used to taking and following orders already, and some of the captains might even make good squadron leaders." Djarun sighs, the list of tasks only growing in his head as he thinks it through, though these were undoubtedly the first steps. "Notices have to go up around the city, informing people of where to go and who to speak with, I suppose I'll do that as well while i'm at it." The rain still hadn't let up, if nothing else it had grown more powerful, fell faster, and Djarun hoped it wouldn't continue into the following days or their job would become much harder. Without further adieu Djarun stretches his tired muscles and shakes the weariness from his eyes, ignoring the mild pain he still felt from injuries that hadn't completely healed. "All right, you all know what to do, now let's get to work!"

Later that Day

Djarun ::: The Cenril town square is bustling now as citizenry from all walks of life converse with each other and carry out various tasks. The temporary command post set up within the square is alight with activity as people line up to register for the militia, make donations, or ask questions, the latter of those options being the most common. That is not to say the prior are uncommon, as on the whole Cenril has begun to draw a line in the sand, metaphorically speaking, those able to help doing what they can to protect their family, friends, and homes from the threat of enslavement or murder at the hands of Preklek invaders. Several blocks away the medical aid station has been fully erected with the help of Neema along with Cenril's own various healers, doctors, herbalists and even midwives. There is a small group of fold soldiers patrolling the streets, an advance party sent along with Djarun to help in whatever way the are able, mostly they are tasked with keeping order among the chaos and helping people to either evacuate or find which temporary outpost they are looking for. Overnight word of the coming invasion, and the preparations to defend against it has spread through Cenril like a wildfire and no one is unaware of the dire situation. Many have evacuated entirely, leaving their homes behind to seek refuge in others cities or the surrounding countryside. More still have begun making their way to the shelter which Calthyr has been working to erect away from where the most violence is assumed to take place, soldiers and citizens alike helping to guide the old, young, and women incapable or unwilling to aid in the battle to the safety which it holds. Djarun is for the moment absent from the square, though if one were looking for him this would be the place to begin, the recounting of his little speech from last night swaying many to the cause and drawing many who wish to speak with him personally. All in all Cenril is in an uproar, with commotion flooding nearly every street and the sounds of activity are nearly deafening when one is admit the crowds, yet one thing is pervasive still, despite the uncertainty and threat of invasion: Hope. That singularly wonderful feeling which helps even the weak and frail to feel empowered in their darkest hour, and it is this feeling which Djarun has been working so hard to instil among the citizenry.


Aranhil entered the town square after hearing The Folds involvement in the war preparations. He was grateful for them, for it seemed those invloved in defending the lands had forgotten once more to keep him informed. His otherwise semi-sheltered life in his shop had given him little knowledge of the prekleks plan to attack after all. But now he was in Cenril, and not only was he present as Aranhil, but he represented the entirety of his clan. Wanting to find the one left in charge here he made his way through the crowds towards the tent where recruiting was taking place. After a few strain filled moments of squeezing and apologizing he made it to the tent. "I search for the one who calls himself Djarun."


Rolan emerges into view from the shadows noticing how alert and high strung the city of Cenril has become since his absence a few years ago. He notices the high tenison of that surrounds the city as there are guards running around every corner of the city in a reckless manner. He begins to swiftly make movements from the town square trying to avoid the soldiers while the strong winds from earlier begins to pick back up, "Damn it." He notices a long line of recruits stretching from the tents to the walls toward the tavern and a simple smirk was made. A few quick words were murmered from his lips as his body begins to swiftly melt into the shadows shocking a few soldiers. A few moments of swiftly moving from shadow to shadow in the crowd, he makes it thorough behind a half-elf speaking that he was looking for someone by the name of Djarun, "Ain't that ironic because we are both looking for the same man?" He notices a few soldiers pulling out weapons towards the vampire's body ready to strike if need be.


Djarun is slowly making his way back toward the square, having just returned from the docks where he had been attempting to sway sailors, both foreign and domestic, to aid in the militarisation and preparations of Cenril, along with joining the militia. It had been a mixed bag to say the least, after all he was not authorized or even -able- to provide pay to the men, staffing the militia was on a strictly volunteer basis. Some of them had told him to go and.... well... do something rather unpleasant, some of them had simply refused to speak with him as they readied their various vessels for departure. Yet the mission had not been wholly unsuccessful, one ship's captain had welcomed Djarun onto his vessel as almost a hero, and pledged the aid of his ship and the men under his command to the war effort. A group of sailors passing by on the street had also expressed their desire to help and headed off for the command station to register. A shipwright had offered one of his newly crafted vessels to the war effort, providing it could be staffed, and a whole slew of foreign sailors who spoke in very fragmented common were persuaded to join up for no other reason than the promise of battle. The tall 'human' sighs, having worked through the night, not only recruiting but also answering a wide range of questions from concerned citizens, helping with the evacuation effort, and even stepping in to mediate a dispute between a merchant and several overly helpful militia men whom had been attempting to coerce him into offering his supplies. After several minutes he rounds a corner and proceeds into the square, jostling amid the large crowd which had now gathered as he makes his way toward the registration booth to check the latest reports on troop size and donations. He was rather worried that even should he raise a sizable force in time he might not be able to supply them all with arms and equipment. It is then that he hears his name being spoken for the umpteenth time that morning, though the ones speaking it were of immediate interest. "Major Djarun is out rallying volunteers in the city, though he usually checks back here once every hour or so." one of the Fold soldiers is explaining to explaining to a half elf, who had gotten to the information desk, and Djarun immediately takes note. Aranhil stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the predominantly human populace of Cenril, and the Major makes his way toward the stranger "No, i'm back now Jenkin., (apparently that was the soldier's name) Ready the latest estimates while I take more questions." The soldier named Jenkins nods to Djarun as he approaches "Aye sir, I'll have them for you in a minute." he replies and then retreats further into the Kiosk to begin another counting of registered names and donations. Djarun looks up to the sky, cursing his misfortune as the dreadful whether had still refused to let up, having actually worsened since last night as the rain pours down heavily and the clouds block out most of the sun's light. "Alright, lets start with you." Djarun says to the half elf whom had inquired about him. "My name's Djarun if you couldn't guess, what can I help you with?"


Aranhil started to feal dissuaded but only slightly as the true Djarun arrived. Turning to face the soldier who had prepared the city for the coming attack he would give a light bow, "My name is Aranhil and I have many other titles, the only one I wish to give at present time is Leading Lord of Lithrydel's Guard. I have at my command a hundred men with which I wish to pledge to the resistance. It isn't much, but I know as well as you do that a single man may change the tide of any war." He didn't hold back his intentions at all, straight to the point was something he was not often able to do. But right now there was not the time for such pleasantries and mind games. "And if I may add, the people of Cenril have a respect for me already, a minor one but a semblance of importance I am to them. Please tell me what you have done so far to better defend this city and I am sure I can do my best to improve upon it as well as recruit more to our cause." Aranhil seemed small, frail even in nature, but he had upon his shoulders a level head. One people tended to respect if not by words then by force of action. Those that had not seen him in battle would question his merit, possibly even question his own sanity as well. The Half elf hadnt noticed the creature behind him, possibly the noise of the other beings of Cenril had drowned him out in combination with the slight blocking out of the various voices behind him as well. He waited now to hear what Djarun had to say, would he trust a man that he had just met with such details?

Rolan chuckles as he stands behind the half elf introducing himself in a flattery manner towards another being while each soldier surrounding him with their weapns about to be drawn out. He slides his eyes calmly at each of the soldiers, "C'mon soldier boys keep your weapons to yourself if you don't plan on using them." He moves each of his hands towards his pockets and smirks as a person a few yards back shouted, "Did someone say Aranhil?" People in the lines begin to act unruly from hearing the name as the soldiers still keep their weapons aimed at him moving towards his neck, "Okay little boys you been warned so no holding back..." He closes his eyes as the shadows undernath the soldiers became jet black tentacles entangling each of soldier that had a weapon pointed at him to drop their weapons on the ground at his feet. He glances at the half elf and the being in front of him, "Are you Djarun?" He asks calmly hoping to get a reasonable response.


Djarun 's eyes shift from the half elf as he introduces himself, not wanting to seem rude but the act of weapons being drawn was a far more equitable concern of his, especially so close to his command center, which was more than that, for the people of Cenril it was the symbol of military presence, of people to aid them, Djarun couldn't allow violence here. "Easy now." He says to the guards and his eyes lock on the one whom their weapons were pointing at. "you'll have to excuse me just one moment sir Aranhil, I hope you can understand." Djarun states calmly without his eyes leaving Rolan. "Aye, my name is Djarun. I understand that these men have been a bit... hasty, which *here his eyes travel harshly to the shocked and embarrassaed soldiers whom have been disarmed* they have explicit orders to refrain from." Djarun's glance is more than enough to make the soldiers glance at one another uneasily like chastised children. "Still, I would ask you to refrain from further conduct. The situation is tense enough in this city without the added concern of violence in it's streets." Here Djarun sighs, glancing around to the citizens whom had backed up and formed a little ring around the trio of men, waiting to see what, if anything, would come of this. "It's alright, I don't see this escalating any further, go back to your business." Djarun yells out to the citizens, whom are hesitant yet still take the 'human's' word as enough assurance that they may relax. "Please, if you would like to accompany me somewhere a bit quieter and more conducive to conversation, mr....?" Djarun seemed to be waiting for the stranger's name. "I'm sure we can address your thoughts or concerns. The same goes for you Lord Aranhil, as I believe we have much to speak of." Djarun was tired, and being diplomatic was just slightly wearing on him, having spent most of the night exhausting his diplomatic skills already. He had learned proper form and etiquette, that was to be sure, yet he was a soldier plain and simple and all this fancy politeness was far from enjoyable.


Aranhil turned to notice what had happened too late, his attention had been solely on Djarun, a careless mistake. The vampire hear in the city that was dominated by humans would surely start trouble. But slowly as the others recognized him they did not rush away as expected, nor did the rush inwards in an attempt to stake him in the heart. Murmurs of the mans name would rush through the crowd along with that of his own. "Rolan the Shadow Knight, and Aranhil of Lithrydel..." The tension in the crowd would ease slightly as most that felt troubled by the coming invasion would find comfort even if only for a few moments in the appearance of the two beings. Finally nodding to both Roland and Djarun he would agree to follow the soldier to a place less crowded.


Rolan smirks lightly as he glances around at the ground, "It seems the city still remembers its knights." He raises his left hand to the air and snaps his fingers watching the tentacles disappear in a swift manner causing the soldiers to drop to the ground with each one feeling somewhat sore from falling unto the ground. His dark sapphire gaze is now fixated on the supposed human, "As you can hear from the restless masses of flesh outside that my name is Rolan Desange." He grins feeling slightly proud about he is going to say next, "The Knight of Shadows or Shadow Knight." He glances over at both of his supposed comrades and follows them glancing over at the crowd and the soldiers with a soft grin noticing them back away slowly from the trio while wondering where the hell they are going now.


Djarun nods to the two men and motions for them to follow as he makes his way through the crowd to the 'famed' Whaler's bar, pushing the door open lightly and waiting for the others to catch up before he would enter fully. He holds up a finger to his guests, the universal sign of 'just one moment' as he wanders up to the bar and speaks with the building's proprietor. After a moment Djarun returns, an old key in hand as he proceeds toward a locked door. The key slides in easily and there is a loud series of clicks as the 'human' unlocks it and motions for those with him to follow inside. Assuming they did so Djarun would lock the door behind them before crossing the slightly dank and cramped room to take a seat at the little table set up there. In lieu of it's normal paraphernalia the table was covered with various documents of Djarun's own creation, notes on troop placement and a map containing various little markers that only he would be able to understand. The Major quickly picks up all of the documents to clear a space and indicates for the other men to sit opposite himself. "Rolan Desange, Aranhil, it's a pleasure to be sure. Unfortunately we will need to conduct our business swiftly, for I have much to attend before the Preklek arrive." He is polite, yet to the point and silently wondering what the hell was taking Calthyr so long, he had been expected back over an hour ago. "So please, lets get this started. How may I help both of you men?" It would seem that he had failed to overhear much of Aranhil's earlier comments save for name, his attention having been taken fully by the appearance and impromptu demonstration of Rolan.