Fort Starstrike
Fort Starstrike is a truly warlike place. The low barrack buildings are surrounded by a black stone wall and seven tall watchtowers. Most people living here are Moonshire soldiers, ready to go strike again at the lower counties when the Baroness decides.
Evera yawned as he woke from a night of drunken card games out on the street. He stood up briefly to stretch, his ageing body compaining as he straightened, shook out his cloak and the dew off his wide-brimmed hat, and then set himself back down again amidst the sacking around the base of one of the watchtowers. The sun was slowly sinking back towards evening, and Evera realised how drunk he had become last night with the older officers of the Baroness' guard. While the light was still good, he took out his musket cleaning kit that he always kept maintained, and dismantled his rifle so that he could thoroughly clean the mechanisms and barrel.
A grizzled war veteran, his muscular trim now coated with the fat of older men, noticed Evera at the bottom of the tower. He approached the man with a jovial smile on his face. "You pup," he jostled with humour. "Been out all night cavorting with the ladies have ye?"
Evera laughed and shook his head. "Cantakan, I wouldn't let the Baroness' Guard hear you call them that. One of their weedier fellows almost broke my arm in an arm-wrestling bout we had last night." He chuckled to himself as he finished cleaning his rifle and placing his kit back in with his satchel. "They sure know how to hold their drink."
Cantakan watched the sun set behind the tree line and shook his head with a smile. "Half of them still in bed with hangovers." He held out a hand for Evera to help himself up with. "Come on, you're on watch with me over at the Western Wall tonight."
Evera took the proffered arm and led the way towards the wall post they were meant to keep watch from. "These Brovanni aren't raiders. I don't know why we keep such an eye out. This isn't mercenary work, this belongs to a retired fool who still has his eyesight."
Yharral approached the edge of the tree's, the walls of Starstrike stood jutting from the loamy earth, looking oddly alien after the long run in the forest. He crouched down and slowly left the treeline, moving quickly to a great oak by the base of the wall. Once reaching the trunk he waited for the rest. Yharral would be first up the wall he'd decided, he had debts to pay in this place...
Librus joined Yharral at the base of the oak as his group and the others stayed at the treeline. "We're all here, I believe," he whispered to Yharral. "What signal do you want to give us to let us know to attack?"
"I'll drop a human from the battlements. When he hits the earth begin your assent and be quick, as the alarm will likely be raised ratehr quickly!" Yharral grinned at Librus then scarmbled up the oak.
The climb was relatively short and the Brovanni was quickly at the top of the great tree, barely 5 feet from the top of the wall.
Stupid humans he thought to himself as he pulled his daggers from his boots. Taking a second to plot his landing Yharral listened for the plodding footsteps of any sentries. One passed. Yharral waited, one, two, three, on his coun of three he leapt at the wall.
One dagger plunged into the mortar and the other soon accompanied it. Yharral hung silent for a second waiting for the sentry to resume his patrol.
Evera took a pull from his pipe as he watched the regular Moonshire militia making their rounds of the walltops. "Good to be here in the quiet areas," he commented to Cantakan who was sat with him, their backs against the wall. "I've spent far too long in wartorn places of late." He blew a smoke ring out before tapping the ash from the pipe and stowing it away in his cloak. "Good to have some peace for a while."
Cantakan nodded as he kept puffing away on his own pipe. "Why the Baroness insists on keeping so many soldiers here, I have no idea. No doubt she's planning on pushing back the borders to the South." He gazed up at the stars through a cloud of the pungent smoke. "War will be here soon. You'll be back in the battles in no time."
Yharral smirked and made his way to the top of the will, gripping the crenilations with one hand, the other still clenched around his dagger. With a movement he pulled himself silently over the lip of the wall and landed lightly on the battlements.
Evera tensed slightly. Something didn't feel right. He could feel... the stock of his musket digging into the small of his back. He pulled the weapon out from where it was and placed it on his lap. "Beauty, isn't it," he stated to the old fellow soldier.
Cantakan grinned and nodded. "Never seen a weapon like yours. Then again, I've only seen a handful of rifles, and they were owned by a group of veterans." He shook his head heavily. "Pieces of crap. Half of them didn't work at all."
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