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OCC: Step right up the the table. Discuss terms, take your promissory note, and be ready at the camp.
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It was was evening in the town of Carafa. The town was far from desolate though. Laughter and music carried well over the horizon. Vendors and guards tried their best to keep the company of troops sated mostly behaved. Most of the activity was centered around the town's tavern and inn. A weathered sign with the words "Silver Fountain" hung precariously above the door. The inside was lit by dim candle light. Serving girls hurried from each table to the next. All while the bar tender struggled to keep pace with all patron's orders.

Off to one side of the tavern close to the door was a small wooden table covered with a red cloth. Seated there was a grim looking fellow in blackened armor. Some knew of him and some did not. Those who had knew him as Martel De'Ath. To his left was a ledger and to his right a large stack of papers. His great helm on the table acted as a paper weight. A two handed long sword rested against the wall in its sheath. The weapon was well within arms reach. A small wooden chest sat back against the wall next to his weapon.

A serving girl weaved through the crowd and placed glass of wine in front him. With his view of the crowd obstructed he met her gaze and reached into the pouch on his side for a coin of silver. Tossing it onto the table the girl flashed him a smile. He couldn't help but respond with half a smile. Curvy little thing, he thought. Her skin unmarred by hardship and still in possession of all her teeth. He reached into the pouch once more and fished out two more pieces of sterling to add to the table. Snatching up the coin the girl winked at him before turning back into the crowd.

"Company later. So not a complete waste." he muttered. So far prospects seemed rather slim in the town. No one seemed too keen on taking part in the siege of Castle Moncenigo. Repeated assaults had been stage, but so far all had been ground to dust before the great walls. Stones, fire, and missiles had taken their toll on the forces of Guglielmo Marin. The casualties so great he contracted the warlord Luca da Leze. In turn Luca had enlisted several free companies. Including that of Marshal Kobus Jager. Through a sizable donation to Jager; Martel had secured his position as Captain of his current wing. Only upon arrival to discover it both to be under supplied and under manned.

His only option was to ride back to Carafa for recruiting and resupply. The town was bustling after the news of the siege. Merchants eager to snatch up any sort of plunder for a few bits of copper. With every intention on selling it on the otherside of the country for sterling. Local artisans gleefully charging an arm and a leg for any service required of an army. The local taverns were drained of food and drink while the coffers of their proprietors overflowed with coin. Some of it his coin, he thought sourly before taking a sip of his wine. The Armel blend was a small taste of him and foundation of his family's good fortune. The stack of promissory notes were to pay and equip the enlisted. The chest contained enough copper to purchase enough beer to inebriate an army.

People were happy to foolish things. Especially when drunk. He knew that from personal experience.

The sun was crawling by, soon to fade into a faint horizon. A young elven traveler carried herself lightly, glanced wearily upon looming stone walls, who's effect was nullified by a pair of drunken revelers leading a furious guard about. The traveler, known by names plenty, passed the double and their forced third, passing through wooden gates, catching a glance from the posted watchman, as she was a stranger in this place.

Before the elf had completely cleared, the guard called out. "Oi, you're new. Keep yourself clean." He said, too tired to demand much more.

The traveler, Suyana the elf, had no purpose in this city until she stood a league away, when another lonely wanderer told of a man hiring passersby, of which she would happen to be.

Suyana wove about the city, wasting a few minutes browsing market stands, looking at particularly bad deals. These intrigued and amused her to no end. After a time though, the elf turned away and asked for the main gathering point, and soon found herself within a loud, dimly lit tavern. She looked about, seeing very little past those about her. A man caught a glance of her, covered in a dirty and torn cloak, hiding light armor. Soon the elf found herself standing parallel a table draped with red cloth.

She looked up at the man who seemed to be an officer of sorts. "You the one hiring folk? If you are, what for? I wasn't told much." Said Suyana to the armored man.

Martel scribbled furiously at his ledger. Only a meager handful of sellswords even worth three pieces of sterling. The rest were drunken louts and common ruffians. Instead of turning them away he merely drafted a promissory note in the name of Ebke Der Werff; his opposing wing captain. Of course the note was for the standard rate of pay. One sterling and ten bits of copper. Der Werff's standards for men at arms were not nearly as strict as his own. The De'Ath prided itself in victory. Whether in trade or in battle. Victory required the best and Martel intended to have only the best.

Scores of men were needed for the siege. The required troop ratio for success called for ten men to every one man under the pay of Scolaio Moncenigo. There were only half the number on the books. In order to combat further losses Luca Da Leze had issued an order against the hanging of deserters and thieves. Punishment would consist in pressing offenders into service as sappers. If they survived they would recieve half pay and were free to go. A fitting way to conserve manpower in Martel's mind. Better to give them a choice in the matter. Face the stones and arrows from Castle Moncenigo or the blades of Da Leze's regiment.

"You the one hiring folk? If you are, what for? I wasn't told much."

Taking a sip from his glass he looked up to whoever was next in line. He managed to conceal a look of distaste at the sight of a slight looking figure standing at his table. The cloak concealed their gender. However if he had to guess it would be a woman. Either that or a effeminate boy. The traveler didn't give the appearance of someone of high standing. Nor did their stature betray any hint of their fighting prowess. Still he was obligated to respond, but he didn't have to be nice about it. He could at least figure out what they wanted before sending them away.

"I've already hired someone to warm my bed tonight. If you're not here peddling your wares then I'm in need of fighting men. I am Martel De'Ath. A captain in Marshal Kobus Jager's free company. We are one of three companies contracted by Luca Da Leze. There is currently a siege taking place against the castle of Count Scolaio Moncenigo. Marshal Jager is offering one sterling and ten bits per week for the duration of the siege. In turn your lodging and meals are provided in the camp."

"I am offering two sterling in addition to the Marshal's pay if you can prove you're worth it. I will also cover up to three sterling for the purchase or repair of equipment. That is only if you sign with my wing. You will surrender one fifteenth of any plunder taken from the castle. That's a tenth for the Marshal, and a fifth for your wing captain. Once you sign on you don't leave until the siege is over. The penalty for desertion is the same as stealing or making nuisance of yourself. Any other questions?"

Suyana stood still for a short moment, considering the prospect of working for this man. Worse pay and worse people had hired Suyana the elf, thus she would accept it. "None as of now." Said the elf simply.

A lithe white fox wove between the legs of a young, caramel-skinned woman as she walked purposefully down the road in the village. On her arm was a basket, though its contents were impossible to make out under the dark fabric covering the top. Those who recognized her under her dark, hooded cloak cast nervous glances at the woman and the nearby guards, and some said quick prayers to themselves. After stopping at an apothecary to purchase some herbs, which she dropped into her basket, the woman cursed under her breath and inquired about a certain herb that she was in need of. The apothecary told her that they didn't have it, and she walked out without another word.

The woman, Eleanor -- though she preferred to be called Ellie -- had been to this village many times before. She resided in the woods just south of it, and she had some friends -- and many more enemies -- in the village.

As she stepped into the vociferous tavern for a short rest before making the journey back home on the back of her white mare, she shrugged off her cloak, exposing her revealing clothing, and narrowed her golden-brown eyes as she caught sight of a certain man whom she had never gotten along with. "Witch," he hissed, making the white fox's ears go back in hostility. Ellie walked past, pretending she had not heard the slightly inebriated man, and ordered a drink from the alewife. As she took her seat near the door, the white fox curling up in her lap, she began eavesdropping on a nearby conversation between a man who introduced himself as Martel De'Ath and a figure swathed in a dirty cloak. Her eyes flicked from one to the other, though she concealed her interest for the most part.

"Any other questions?"
"None as of now."

"Yes, I have one," Ellie cut in, scooping up the fox in her lap and joining them at the table. "Did you say the castle of Count Scolaio Moncenigo? I'm in need of some materials, and I believe that they can be found in that region. How many more recruits are you looking for?

"None as of now."

"If you have no questions then sign the ledger." Martel replied. He turned the ledger around and placed an inked quill beside it. Opening the nearby chest he retrieved a few pieces of copper and placed them on the table. "I'll gladly buy a drink for anyone I'm fighting beside." Picking up a promissory note from the stack of papers and began filling it out with his extra quill. He wasn't too pleased about the recruit, but they were starved for man power. Beggars can't be choosers as his father would say. The cloaked figure still had not revealed their identity, but maybe they could fight.

"Did you say the castle of Count Scolaio Moncenigo? I'm in need of some materials, and I believe that they can be found in that region. How many more recruits are you looking for?

Martel looked up from the note. A brown skinned lady was standing at his table next to the boy. She was cradling a silver fox. Something about her golden brown eyes didn't sit right with Martel. It bothered him a bit. They just seemed unnatural. "I'll take all the recruits I can get. However it seems all I can get are a boy and a woman. If you wish to join us sign the ledger." he snapped. Once more he grabbed a few pieces of copper and another note. "You heard the terms. You're in this until its over. All I can say is best of luck with your materials. If you want them at no cost we'll have to be first through the walls. It's not going to be pretty."

Suyana swiftly signed the ledger, snatching the coins hungrily. The elf was well ready for a drink, when a woman approached the table, interacting with the recruiter, and offering her help.

Suyana ignored most of the speech, cathing a comment on the two recruits. Mildly offended, she swiveled to face Martel, dropping her hood in a swift motion as she faced the man.

A careless knot of chesnut hair was held back, loosely flopping about. The face of this cloaked traveler was pale, angular and carried a perpetual look of annoyance. "Suyana Nalik, elf of..." she trailed off, thinking and muttering to herself in an exotic tongue.

"What is the word? For the cold... stuff." She said after a time, somewhat embarrassed. "Whatever, I am an elf."

Ellie also signed the ledger, but in a much more languid and slow manner, and scooped up the coins, dropping those into a small velvet coin purse. The fox had moved up to stretch across her shoulders like a scarf, and she petted it. She took a seat again, remaining silent.

Much like a wildfire, word of recruitment had rapidly spread outward from the town and grew as it went. By the time it reached another town it would likely be blown completely out of proportion. It mattered little to Yvette. She knew where she needed to go. Cloaked as she was for travel with only her breastplate and head visible, a gentle rustling of chain accompanied each step as she headed for Carafa.

Entering through the town gates, Yvette made straight for the tavern. Stepping inside, she took in the unholy spectacle of chaos that only fighters deep in their drinks could possibly make with a deadpan expression. Catching sight of of the red clothed table and line, she takes her place in line. Hearing the other elf she interjects into the conversation "That's snow child. Now I assume this is the table to sign for the siege? There is one thing I want inside that castle. I don't care what the pay is or loot cut is other then that."

Martel blinked back his surprise when the cloaked figure revealed their identity. He had them mistaken for a boy running from an angry father or sheriff. All he could do was raise an eyebrow when the other dark haired elf stepped up the table. "There are a lot things people want in the castle. Problem is getting inside. Ballista, catapult, archers, crossbowmen, and all other sorts of unpleasantness on the walls." he explained. A cold chill spread through his body as he thought about the medicus' tent. Poor mangled sods underneath the butcher's tools. Worse yet were the unfortunate survivors of the boiling oil and fire. Writhing and moaning on cots in agony until death took them.

"I feel like a Xizen Emperor considering my newest recruits." Martel laughed. Taking another sip of wine before he scribbled out another promissory note and fetching more coin. Last thing he expected were two elves signing up. They were a rare sight in this day and age. There were few stories concerning them anymore. Other than violent clashes over territory. The fey people fought like the devil for their land. Anyone who visited their little enclaves usually did not return. He had never met any personally until now. Trade dealings consisted of leaving whatever goods being exchanged at the border of their lands. The brown skinned woman took a seat at the bar without saying a word. Merely content to stroke the hair of the silver fox. "We'll just have to see how capable the lot of you are. Doubt it would matters though. Plenty of 'capable' fighters feeding the rats and crows below the walls of Moncenigo."

Draining the last bit of wine in his glass he readied a few more promissory notes. Retrieving a few more pieces of copper in case of any last minute recruits. The remainder of notes he placed into the chest along with Ebke's ledger. The opposite wing captain might have reached suitable numbers, but Martel would still find the odds more favorable with his recruits. The serving girl caught his eye once more causing a slight smile the break out on his face. Once of his trusted sergeants would stop in later with a few other men to retrieve the chest. He would would spend the night here at the tavern before traveling to camp just before sunrise.

Suyana nodded to the new arrival, then took her leave. She went about the city for a time, browsing poorly priced items and the like. In jest, the elf played the part of a fool browsing simple items for ridiculous prices, much to the delight of various stall-based shopkeepers.

After she had been drained of all care, Suyana grew weary and chose to fall in an alley, awaiting the arrival of morning.

Skipping ahead to the battle.
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Martel leaned back against the corner of the tower. Even within the structure he could hear the sounds of battle outside. The crash of stones hurled by the catapult. The hiss and thump of missiles hitting around the tower. The screams of wounded men dying beneath the walls. Steel clashing against the steel. It was almost suffocating inside the tower. Scores of men crammed into each level of the tower. The smell was even worse. Some had turned to mead to steel their nerve. Only to sweat it out later. Others lost control of their bowels adding urine and excrement into the already stomach turning aroma.

There was a loud crash off to the right of their tower. A large stone had found it's target smashing through the support beams of another siege tower. The groan of the tower slowly coming apart and collapsing was clearly audible from hundreds of yards away. Martel whispered a prayer after feeling the shudder run through his own tower. Odds of survival for anyone assaulting the walls were dramatically low. Even if the attack were successful; the majority usually died before making it inside the walls. If the attack failed the men who couldn't withdraw would be cut off and hacked apart by the mob.

Still he couldn't understand what provoked him to volunteer. It surprised every member of the leadership within the regiment. Traditionally all the nasty dangerous work was left to those born into a lower class. People with nothing to lose. Unlike those with wealth or power. The move had resulted in a drastic increase in the over all morale of the company. Almost every member had invited him to share a drink prior to moving to the towers. Sadly he turned them all down. Knowing his very survival depended on having a clear mind and lightning fast reflexes. That was if he could make it to the wall. He would consider himself luck if he made it to the wall.

The wind picked up carrying the smell of smoke and burning flesh their way. A fire-pot had struck a tower to their left earlier. Screams from the men trapped within echoed across the battlefield as they were slowly roasted inside. Martel stood silent and rigid as a statue. Refusing to let the inkling of fear break out. Fortunately his armor helped mask his emotions. He was wearing full plate over his gambeson with a silk shirt underneath the quilted jacket. The shirt cost almost as much as the set of plate. The weave of the fabric helped slow the penetration of arrows that managed to pierce his armor.

His two handed long sword was sheathed as his side. Resting on the ground was large shield he procured back at camp. It was round in shape made of layered wood and leather. With a steel boss in the center and steel bands reinforcing the interior. The handle was a spindle type in the center. Allowing it to rotate freely rather than be strapped onto his arm. He was willing to bet his family fortune that a barrage of arrows and quarrels would pour onto them as soon as the ramp dropped. The mace in his right hand was held in a death grip. Both pieces of equipment would be abandoned as soon as he had a moment to draw his sword.

The plan was to breach the defense on the walls. Fight until the gate house was taken. Then the main body would fight to secure the courtyard. The remaining defenders would withdraw to the inner keep. The siege was dragging on too far for the regiment to assault the keep from its walls. Spies who previously visited the castle had revealed underground catacombs to the east of the keep. Sappers were prepared to mine into the tomb. If they were successful a group of men would be sent through. Once the count was killed or captured the siege would be over. It would be a hard fight. All uphill within the walls of Moncenigo.

Ellie stood nearby, her arms crossed over her chest as if to protect herself. Despite the woman's usually self-assured façade, she now seemed slightly nervous, but was still far less anxious than the other soldiers around her. "I've never been this close to a battle before," she murmured, perhaps to herself or perhaps just to whoever was listening.

Her hair was tied back into a high ponytail to make sure that it stayed out of her face. She wore most of her armor, but had discarded her helmet and gloves on the floor beside where she stood. The weapons, as well, were propped against the wall, earning her some strange looks from the other recruits who were still sober or level-headed enough to take any notice of the fighter with no weapons.

Finally getting fed up with the prying eyes of others, she joined Martel by the corner and leaned against the wall in a similar fashion, acknowledging him with a small dip of her head. "None of them seem to expect to make it out of here alive. Do you?" As she asked the question, she watched a colourful spider skitter across her fingers. Its markings and coloration suggested that it was venomous, and anyone who knew about that particular strain of arachnid would know that it wasn't indigenous to the area. Ellie watched it move to her palm. She closed her hand around it, and when she opened it again, there was nothing more than smoke. Losing interest, she regarded Martel once more.

"I plan to survive this." Martel answered, recognizing the voice as Ellie. His heart skipped a beat at the smell of smoke. Fire was a constant fear of any within the structure. The tower started to groan to a stop. Without a second thought he brought the shield up to his chest and tightened his grip. Once the ramp dropped the missiles would follow. He doubted any would pierce his plate. However they still hurt upon impact. Also there were gaps in his armor, and he had seen men fall from the random quarrel through any eye slit. All he could do was crouch behind the shield until the impacts stopped. Then the defenders would surge forward to push them back. He slammed the mace into the face of the shield to get everyone's attention.

"There will be a volley when the ramp drops. Enough to cut the first wave to nothing. We have to shorten the distance between us and close with their infantry. If they stand before you with a weapon cut them down. Mercy will only be granted to those who do not bear arms or those who surrender them." he commanded. No quarter was taken during a siege, and none was to be given. Martel himself would do his best to limit the violence carried out against non-combatants. However it could only be applied to his men. Those who did not surrender to his wing would be at the mercy of the others.

"Ready!"

Martel raised the shield up and stepped into a crouch in front of Ellie. The gears started to turn and the chains rattle. The heavy wooden ramp opened and slammed into the stone of the ramparts. Daylight flooded the inside of the tower for a brief second. It was quickly blotted out by stones, arrows, and quarrels.

((I hope that immortal characters are allowed...?))

Ellie didn't see the arrow coming at her until it had lodged itself into her chest; she was no warrior, and as vigilant as she was, she was still only human. Were her heart still beating naturally, this arrow would have stopped it. She fell backwards into the wall, coughing up a little blood, and then stared down at it for a long moment. Her expression was one of surprise, but also of what seemed to be disappointment. She got to her feet, somewhat clumsily, and yanked the arrow out; it was accompanied by blood, and lots of it.

She wiped the trickle of blood off of her chin and touched the spot where the arrow had been, wincing slightly. "I suppose I should be more watchful," she groaned as the spider that she had earlier skittered across her arm to her chest, weaving webbing as if in an attempt to heal her.