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Dmitri quickly stripped off his armor and dressed in a nicer shirt and trousers. The trousers were dark green and the shirt was blue with green hems and golden embroidery up and down the breast. He remained barefoot and walked back towards Bohtimbar and looked up at him.
"So, when is the next battle?" he asked.

The goblin had to hand it to Lord Bohtimbhar. Even after a day of hard losses, he had personally marched a reinforcement into the barracks.

As he was spoken to by his leader, the goblin remained silent. He was pleased to have drawn an audience with such high rank. The embarrassment of his earlier mistake was already starting to pass.

Not being personally addressed, he got up off of one knee and resumed his spot back on his bunk. It appeared that the man had chosen the bunk next to his. The goblin looked at his stack of gear to make sure none of it had been left on the newcomer's side of the room.

His pointy ears perked up at the question asked about the next battle. He listened intently, hoping to gain some valuable intel.

Bohtimbhar would let the two know about his plans for this brief period of time. "The heathen king of the Riorii plans to march and conquer our province of Urag. He is under the illusion that because of our battles with the Zathurazids, that we are powerless to stop him. I swear that I will see his head rest atop a pike!" The Elf became saturated with pure hate for the barbarian king. He dare think that he can take Urag in a tribal conquest!? In an illegal war!? Bohtimbhar wasn't the most chivalrous knight, but this warcrime would not be tolerated.


Bohtimbhar calmed down after a moment, but the need to vent was still there. 'Save it for the battle' he thought. "A battle plan is going to be created inside the high fort tomorrow. Anyone is allowed inside as long as they can contribute to the plan. After that, the next two days will be preparation until the envoys return with mercenaries. After that we march to intercept the barbarians."

(Need some sleep, will post when possible.)

The goblin quietly reveled in the fact that he would have two more days in the rear to train and recover. The day's battle had been a fierce one. Obel had seen many men slain on either side. This was part of the reason he was still awake, working his metal.

His eyes focused on the formerly empty bunk. He briefly thought of the man who had been there. The last time Obel lay here, his companion was still alive. Now he and many others were on their way to the Gods. And there was still room for many more. But the Goblin swore he would not be one of them.

He examined his sword one last time before holstering it and putting it away for the night. He lay on his bunk, his ears focused on Lord Bohtimbhar's words. The goblin closed his eyes and uneasily begun to toss and turn in his bed.

"Mercenaries?" Dmitri chuckled, "I guess they might be necessary when you are in time crunch like this," he mused, "But if you can get me a team of good blacksmiths and the right materials," he tapped on the top of one of his sphere automatons that followed him from his bed, "I could build you a small division of these," he gave a hearty, deep laugh that resonated from the depths of his broad chest. The sphere unfolded at the stimulation to it's face plate and looked around.

Bohtimbhar let a small hum escape from his mouth. Blacksmiths... Well, his army was very multiracial, so there was bound to be someone, let's say, a Dwarvern engineer that had such knowledge of smithing such an Automaton like the Khajiit's.

"Blacksmiths..? Well I am sure that some of the metal workers around here would prove adequate." He gazed around the tent. Sleeping men, wearing aprons and soot from their chores of smithing blades, lay amongst the resting soldiers. "What about you my Goblin friend? Are you capable of such feats?" Bohtimbhar's eyes turned to the half-asleep Goblin, of whom seemed to be struggling to get his share his rest. Though Bohtimbhar knew better than to wake sleeping soldiers, the idea of beneficial automatons piqued his curiosity, and this being seemed quite professional at what he did.

The goblin sat up in his bed before standing quickly. He slowly walked over to the two men with his eyes focused on the automatons. These were complex beings for sure.

"I could help work the metal." His experience in metalwork was limited, but adequate. He had been taught the basics by an old mountain blacksmith decades ago.

His focus turned on the second man. "What breathes life into such a creature?"

"This metal is nothing like normal iron," Dmitri said, "It is made by a race long since disappeared from our world, a punishment for their quest for immortality. 'Adequate,' unfortunately, would not be suitable skill level for such a task. The metal is as hard as dragon's bones, if smithed properly, but at the same time, if hit improperly with the hammer before the piece being worked on is done, could break break in two," he explained. When asked about the life source within the automaton, he opened a small, almost invisible latch in it's head and pulled out a large, quartz colored crystal that had grown from the earth in the shape of a square. "Soul Gems," he said, "A large, complex one for the mind," he began then put it back and pulled out a more simple, diamond-shaped crystal from a spot on it's chest, which caused it to go limp and unmoving, "A simple, strong one for the body."

"We will sort this little conversation out tomorrow. Now is the time for rest." Bohtimbhar grunted during the talk. He had to return to the fort. Idranul and Arithir were probably waiting for him, pondering why he had disappeared. All the decisions had been made, and the battle plan would be devised first thing tomorrow.

"I'm returning to the fort to sort out the battle plan, you two should get what rest you can. Travel to the fort if you wish to contribute to the plan. If not, at least train for the battle yet to come." The Elf turned his head and began to travel outside of the curtain, he then looked back on the two before he left. "Farewell for now..." As he made his way to the fort, trying not to stumble over the content soldiers, Bohtimbhar was greeted by his two advisers as he came beside the spear stockade.

"Where have you been my lord?" The blind Idranul muttered.
"Caring for the soldiers, as well as finding two able-bodied men to help our cause."
"What do you refer to? As in commanders, or simple militia? I hope for all our sakes not the latter."
"Don't be a fool! Do you think I would be so proud if I found two overly ambitious militiamen!? I know military prowess when I see it, and I know these two will make fine commanders. Why can't you say the same..?"
Idranul grasped his face for a moment, it was true that Bohtimbhar was sometimes a tad reckless in his decisions, but he had not yet seen these two arrivals, and knew that he could not let his Elvish cynicism get the better of him.
"Very well master. I have faith in your judgement, but what can you say about the envoys? We may not be so lucky with them."
"Perhaps, but those envoys are the only chance we have of fresh men, we cannot let the chance slip by, at least not against the barbarian king."
"Well, at least we still have two days to make our fair judgement, then we shall see the fruits of such labour." Idranul let a chuckle escape from his mouth.
"Hmph. Enough of this talk, I have a map to survey." The Lord stormed past his advisers, finally entering the fort itself. The Exodite guardsmen patrolling the doorway bowed to him as he entered.

"Yes, of course my lord, farewell for the night." Idranul and Arithir gave a solemn bow, before they entered their own chambers. Bohtimbhar would spend the entire night surveying the continent, waiting for the dawn, where he, his advisers and the generals would spend their time negotiating a plan against the Riorii. In seven, strangely brief hours, the sun slowly dawned on the mountains.

The description of the complex creations baffled the goblin. He had made simple pieces of armor and had repaired many swords. But something on this level was a completely foreign concept.

The things you see in the military, he thought to himself. His eyes focused on the so-called 'soul gems' until they were replaced in the automatons. Carefully and slowly, he moved his left hand towards one of the beings. His index finger brushed against its smooth surface before snapping back frightfully.

The Lord interrupted. When he was finished speaking, Obel bowed his head obediently and said, "As you wish, my Lord."

The goblin had not thought of going to the briefing tomorrow at the big tent. But after meeting the top commander, he was filled with a new sense of pride. His fortitude had been recharged, and his mind no longer focused on fallen comrades.

He lay back in his bunk, mind focused on how best to utilize forces. In a matter of moments, he was snoring peacefully, eyes rolled back in his head.

The small fae, Capit, strode towards the wall. He knew not what lay beyond them, or the events that took place there either. Shivering as he walked, the little ranger quicker his pace as he saw the wall. The snow formed ice sickles on his wings. He had been tracking men to this location for days in the snow, and his own supplies had depleted two days ago. For a reason he did not disclose, he came to challenge their leader. His attempt would most likely be futile, but he saw it as his only hope.

"I declare a challenge!" Shouted Capit as he neared the gate. "I challenge B-"

He got no further in his speech before a bleeding hole replaced his throat. Grabbing for the air in vain, the fae fell to the ground, tainting the listening snow a dark crimson. From behind the body stepped a figure towards the gate.

The figure was tall and lanky. A deep red hue colored his body, which in turn was only garbed with a rag around the waist. Snow at the figures feet melted away at his touch, turning to steam and sizzling with each step. As he neared the gate one could see the broken set of horns atop his head. His right hand held what he took from his last victim. A terrifying site when he sunk his fang-like teeth into into it.

Rather than speak, the figure seemed to wait just before the entrance, waiting to be invited in as he finished his Fae-snack.

((Sorry for any typos. Using my iPod))

Dmitri sat down on his bunk and then lay down. He promptly fell asleep and began snoring softly.

(Sorry for the short post >~< couldn't think of much else to toss in there ATM)

(It's fine. I am content with small posts if there is little to describe in a paragraph.)

Bohtimbhar had spent the early hours of the morning surveying the continent, when a loud bang at his chamber door awoke him from his trance. He clenched his fist tightly, for there had best be a good reason he had been so rudely disturbed.

Bohtimbhar reached over to the door, interrupting the constant knocking. As the flung open, he saw a pikeman standing in front of him. The man's fist almost met Bohtimbhar's breastplate, but the soldier had managed to stop himself just in time out of shock. A scowl slowly emerged from Bohtimbhar's blank eyes.

"Why have I been disturbed..?" Bohtimbhar's tone was frustrated and angry, yet sure that a good revelation would come to this little occurrence.
"Sorry to interrupt you my lord, but a voice, not from the encampment, shouted outside the gate, and was abruptly silenced. When we came to look, there was a strange figure. We weren't sure how to deal with it so we came to you, my lord." The soldier's voice had shown humility. He displayed no emotion, and remained strictly apologetic, as if he had done something gravely terrible.
"Very well... escort me to this... 'figure.'" Bohtimbhar slowly entered the main hall, and traversed beside the top of the courtyard. The main fort was separate from the camp, of which was not defended by a stockade like the fort. So this figure could be a soldier, or perhaps an adventurer, much like the Khajiit. From the top of the gate, Bohtimbhar finally emerged, his arms crossed, staring down at the strange figure.

From what he could see, there was a tall, horned (albeit broken) and nevertheless, intimidating creature, and the frozen corpse of what appeared to an adventuring Fae. From what he could tell, it was obvious what had caused the Fae's death, and the High Elf would dare demand a reason. He called out: "You there! What is thy business here? For what reason would you seek an audience!?"

"One, two, three... one, two, three." A relatively lanky orc called out. He repeated the numbers slowly, ritualistically.

The numbers correlated with his motions.
The entire squad was down on their hands and toes, doing push ups. After each count of 3, the other soldiers counted up starting from one and going until the sergeant got tired.

The tall orc wore the rank of sergeant. He was taking his men out for morning exercise.

This was their last set, and Obel was drained. He grunted and huffed as he pushed out the last few pressups.

Finally, the sergeant did his final count and stood up in the position of attention. "Pos-ition of attention... Move" The men snapped right up from the ground to the rigid position of military discipline.

"Right.... face." The squad turned to the right. "Forward.... March!" The squad began to march forward, back towards the tent where they could get breakfast. Obel was the first man in formation.

The orc's deep voice shouting, "left... left", kept the squad marching in unison.

Dmitri, unlike the rest of the soldiers, was not training. He was talking with a blacksmith and had one of his automatons standing at his side.
The feline man was wearing his full suit of armor, minus the helmet, which hung at his hip by a strip of leather, and all the spikes of the dragon's bones made the already large khajiit even larger.
Anyone listening in on their conversation would probably hear snippets about getting new materials and soul crystals.
"Thank you, comrade," Dmitri shook the smithies' hand and walked away, his sphere following close behind.
When he saw Bohtimbar wobbling towards the gates, Dmitri fell in next to him.
"What's going on?"

For a while the figure stood there, motionless even as he was called to. After several moments passed his head snapped up to where the voices came from atop the wall. His soulless eyes were back, noticeable to any who gazed at him from such a close distance. A forked tongue tasted the bitter cold air. More moments passed before he spoke with a harsh tone. "I have done you a service, my liege." As he spoke he gestured with his bloody, flesh-holding hand, towards the fallen Fae behind him.

"Come see for yourself." Bohtimbhar was replied to the Khajiit. "See what you would think of this sight." He did not bother hiding anything. He wanted Dmitri to make his own judgement of this unusual event.

Bohtimbhar was intrigued, even if he was slightly distrustful of the figure. Not only did this creature appear to be what Bohtimbhar would consider to a Demon, it was obvious that he was responsible for the death of the Fae. However, this monstrosity could be a great a soldier, even if it did seem slightly deceitful. Bohtimbhar would have to swallow his morals for the moment.

"Tell me, what is it that you would seek here? Regardless of the Fae's demise." Bohtimbhar tried repeating his last question, hoping to get an answer.

(Sorry for how long it took to post. I have recently gotten back from my Great Grandmother's funeral.)

Stubby, grubby green fingers hustled the waffles into his mouth. The goblin, appearing to be half the size of most soldiers eating, did not enjoy using eating utensils. The only rule in the dining section was to eat fast. Obel obliged.

Sitting next to him was the squad leader. He dwarfed the goblin as he scarfed down his plate of breakfast meat. They ate in silence. The seating order suggested that Obel was quickly rising in rank and was currently next in line for promotion.

Of course with the frequency of casualties, promotion was a quick process. Somewhere, sometime soon, there would be another opening for the Goblin Corporal.

But for now, he was content in the dining room, eating his waffle stack barehanded.

(My condolences on your loss.)

(Sorry to hear it )

Dmitri looked at the demon creature and the fur on his fluffy tail spiked up a bit. A small hiss escaped his mouth and he looked up at Bohtimbar.
"Apologies, Lord, but I don't intend to stay near him."

The figure smiled a toothy smile. "He sought your demise." Another bite into the bleeding flesh finished his snack. A forked tongue ran across his lips, lapping up the last of the blood. His eyes did not waver from the men on the wall, which his stare was fixed to.

"I would like to enter," it said. The demon raised a hand to touch the metal as if something would happen through his touch. After a pause for his own amusement the figured curled his hand and knocked continuously.

((I'm sorry for your loss))