RP:Defending Cenril;the Force of Wolves

From HollowWiki

Part of the Conquest:The Return of the Prek Arc


Summary: The build up of Cenril defenses continues as units of fighting forces report for training and assignment in the heart of the city. Traps are laid and defenses prepared for an assault that is expected any day now.

Characters: Keturah, Wolfram, NPC militia, NPC Fold combat units

LOCATION: Cenril; Beloy Street (En route to the Fold command outpost)’’’


Wolfram shouts orders over the men as they clumsily thrust their spears at air. It has only been a week since the makeshift militia, numbering a scant fifty-four, assembled, poorly equipped and lacking training. The cenril guards are already under orders from beuarocrats, leaving the lone wolf to organize a real defense against the certain assault. In the absence of time, training has consisted of defending tight corridors and bottlenecks in the city. The various traps will force any sizeable force to split, leaving 'safe' passageways through back alleys and side streets, where the "Force of Wolves" lie in wait. Oh, how he hated the name the militia gave themselves, but it's his own fault for mentioning his nickname to them. And, loathe as he is to admit it, it fits. The force is small, unable to win a stand-up fight, but, with proper tactics and a whole lot of cunning, they'll drop their prey. Another order is shouted, and the small cadre retreats a few steps in unison. The street is large enough for the entire militia to stand as one, but, when the time is ripe, it'll be broken into units of six and dispersed when the time is upon them. An intricate set-up, for untrained city-goers. Not to mention the only defense the city will have when the darkness descends upon the human bastion.

There had been no denying the intricacies of the elves' traps, and surely, without the aid of their guide, the Fold soldiers might have been met with more than one nasty surprise. A quiet stillness had long since settled over the men that picked their way along behind the Round member, and even those without the ability to sense the Divine had been on edge, their nerves alighting under the cover the magic that hung so thickly within the lush greenery of a battle ready forest. Even the living barrier of fauna and trees that bordered Sage had been tense, and almost unwilling to be more welcoming of the Fold's presence, even with the druid's gentle coaxing. She stayed ahead of the force, the occasional glance paid over her shoulder to the armored grouping of the one hundred kinsman that followed along after her. Determined to see her task out to the best of her abilities, the armor-clad lycaness strode silently over the bridge to Cenril. Silence, which was broken on more than one occasion in favor of whispering to the soldiers alongside her, wavered and broke again as the entrance to the city came into view. Lupine hearing pricked at the sound of shouting within the walls, and though her men had not yet heard it, the druidess was all the more on edge. Urged forward onto Beloy Street, the soldiers continued on their route to the Capitol building. "Ah." Came the sudden knowing coo, as Keturah found that she recognized the voice ahead of her, and her pace quickened. "Hail!" She greeted, eyes moving from Kail to the men and their weapons that he had with him. A ripple coursed through the troop behind her, and with a faint smile, they came to a halt.

Wolfram turns, smiles, then barks an order to stand down. Almost as one, but not quite, the men relax and hold their weapons at ease. Untrained... "Hail, Keturah Ka'Anch, Fold member! Mind the ropes!" He points up, showing off a strange metal ball, roughly the size of a human head, suspended by a clothesline above her head. "Nasty business, that. Mess with the rope, the ball drops, the flint sparks, the bomb goes off." He smiles. "It's not lethal, but I imagine your boys would hate being unable to see or smell for a few days. They're great for peppering food, though." A flash bomb? Tricky little bugger. Azure eyes return to his men. "Alright, men! Geurilla maneuvers! Um..." He thinks a moment on the name his men gave their codes. "er...ah. The lone wolf strike forces." In a comical display, the men disperse, bumping into each other with apologies as they start separating into squads of six and dispersing for their assigned hold-outs, knocking on doors as they go. "The knocks, they tell the civilians to head to the beaches. It means danger." His voice lowers. "No more Mira's." He shakes his head and returns his attention to the Fold soldiers in his city. Not the most welcoming sight, but if they're here to help, then they should know what to worry about. If they're passing through...then knowledge may prevent them from getting hurt. "Now, what brings you to Cenril?" A smirk. "Camping trip?"

Keturah's gaze was drawn upward, eyes following the length of the close line to come to a rest upon the metal sphere. Dark brows lofted before she returned her attention to Cenril's men. It was with the faintest of smiles that she watched them disperse, though she did stiffen slightly at the mention of the child. Her hand fluttered to the emblazoned metal of her chest piece, the same crest that marked her as a member of the Fold identifying the men behind her. "Camping.." It took a moment before an impish glitter sparkled in her eyes, and an amused smile turned her lips upward. "Yes. In the center of the city, actually. The sights must be wonderful." Pointing toward the flash bomb above her, the druidess tilted her head, eyes upon male. "I don't suppose you would mind showing us points of interest?" She paused, smile fading as a more somber expression took hold. "We are here to help defend the city, chal?"

Wolfram cracks his neck, but smiles. "Extra help, eh? Good to hear. In that case, you can avoid the southern areas of Cenril. That's Gisiae Territory, and they're content to throw their lives away to defend their little patch of the city. That said, they'll fall quickly, if those prekleks hit that watering hole in the forest. It's a quick jump from there to our own little fishing spot, and, if the lizards know that, they'll exploit it fully. If they aren't aware, the front gate is in prime working order, and those delightful pinatas are all over the city, ready to be cut the moment those geckos are right under it. Armor or no, there's a good deal of spicy pepper in there to ruin your eyes and nose awhile." He takes a breath and points southward. "The drunkards in the tavern are a pretty racist bunch. A few rumors of the Preks, and they're ready to fight anything with scales, should they pass that bar. Just let em go. They'll tire themselves out in time." He smirks. "Like a fire, they're impossible to control, but easy to direct." The man points behind him with a thumb. "The militia is different, though. Get in their way, and you'll become part of their plans. Their job is to guard the passages all over the city. Once the first bomb goes off, any smart lizard will see one and avoid any place that has one...which is why there are a couple dozen duds around the city to throw em off...anyways, they'll be going to safer areas, like alleys, where..." He sighs, still upset about the name. "Where the 'Force of Wolves' are set up, ready to kill anything reptilian, making a veritable wall of bodies for anything behind them to climb. Should everything work out, the city will be locked down within an hour or so, leaving the only passageway straight out the main gate." He thinks a moment, doing tactical calculations in his mind. "Your force would best serve in the South...Gisiae's elites, coupled with actual soldiers, should hold the harbor indefinitely. That watering hole is going to be your biggest headache, so keep it under strict watch." A canteen is produced and offered. "And Cenril is out of coffee. It's been a long few weeks, and sleep wasn't important. If you want any, this is my last batch." A smile. Despite the machinations and strenuous work, the lone wolf still has it in him to be cordial. Any army would be happy to have him, making his freelance status rather confusing.

Keturah did her best to listen, though the tightened expression that began to form on her face was likely far from encouraging. Perhaps that was the reason she ducked her head to hide it midway through the Human's details, dark brows furrowing as she returned her pensive stare to him. "There will be more-" she motioned to the soldiers, who at that point were still standing still. "More soldiers. A good deal more. As for the watering hole.. I would inform Rho. It would have it's own guards, I am sure. Ah.. As for.. the drunkards in the bar.. Civilians? The preks have at their disposal alien technology. On par.. perhaps with the Avians'. This is going to be difficult."

Wolfram shrugs. "Civilians, aye, but more than a match for training. Whatever technology they provide will be promptly relieved of, then beaten mercilessly with. I know we fight a losing battle. I asked for help, and received none. I worked for getting supplies, and met walls. The cenril guard refuses to mobilize without authorization from the Beaurocrats around here, so all I have are willing men and women, plus drunks." He sighs. "Tactics are nothing without numbers, and a lone wolf can only do so much. Cenril will stand or fall, based solely on plans and volunteers. The Fold helps only because of Rynvale's ports. If not for F...the island, We'd be alone. I'll be running around cutting ropes and barking orders to my men. At a moment's notice, we'll be as ready as can be these days." The defeat in his voice is masked by the intensity in his eyes. Win or lose, he'll defend his former home, ready or not. "...A fire would do a number on plans, though...and that storm on the horizon may affect the bombs...perhaps I should cover the shells and leave you and your men to their march..." Distracted again, the male begins to walk.

Keturah watched and listened. It was all she could do. Tactics had never been her forte, along with diplomacy. Even heading a troop her kin into the city before her had sent a chill of unease across her spine. His words though.. Dark curls bristled, and a tenseness came to her jaw. It was with some difficulty that she bit back her retort, one hand lifting to rub at the back of her neck. The Fold. How unfair it seemed that the liberation of an island from an emperor who chained and abandoned his people there brought such hostility and ill thoughts. Perhaps she was being naive, but she could hardly keep her temper from bubbling. "Ten gold-" came a whisper behind her. The soldier grinned without humor, joking tone continuing. "Once Keturah leaves to report this to Lady Arien, we won't see the dear healer back in Cenril 'til the fighting star-" A swift elbow to the male's armored torso and a wince from the druidess who had thought to hit him was enough to silence the gentle teasing. He had meant well, at least, and distracted the girl enough from her own anger that her focus returned to her task quickly. "Chal.." She bit her lip, resisting the urge to rub the sore spot. "Before others think to tease me.. We should continue on our way. We would be stationed in the center of the city.. We bring with us a fairly large force, and can disperse easily throughout from there, no?" They had a few paces to reach the Capitol Building, and the Public Commons that would house the Fold's forces yet awaited. "I do wish you a pleasant evening.. and good luck. Perhaps your militia would meet with the other force that one of ours has gathered." She was already walking in strides to the center of the city, the troops following in time at her heels.

Wolfram stands and watches the troops go by, led by the fledgling leader. The look on his face could only be defined as 'concerned.' An audible sigh escapes as he grabs the arm of one of the soldiers. "Jeron. Shut up the naysayers as often as possible. Keturah needs to be angry to keep the resolve to protect this place." Another former ally of Gisiae, and, now that secrecy makes little difference to the man, calling them out is a cakewalk. "If she falters, keep her riled up. She'll do what's right just to spite me." He smiles and winks. It isn't swordplay, but still a lesson for his student, even in times of distress. The more she thinks of herself, the less confident she becomes. At least, if she hates her teacher, she'll make the necessary decisions without a second thought, for no other reason than to prove her strength to her men and to spite an old tactician. Kail lets the man go and resumes walking to the first of many bombs he'll have to cover in preparation for the storm. Manipulation is never redeeming, but, if it can create the thin margin of success, then he's prepared to be hated. Pace quickens as the man sets his determination to his traps again.