Fantasy dragon rider rp

[Dumplingboy]

Althina was a large diverse island that bordered the desert continent of Tamriel. They have developed many relations with foreign countries, both good and bad, and have seen their fair share of war. The island used to be war torn as each of the nations fought amongst themselves. Peace never lasted long until the humans took over uniting the nations, creating the stronghold of Althina today. No longer focusing on tearing each other apart, the recent generations of High Kings have focused their energy in utilizing the dragons that inhabit the lands. Dragon riders were spoken of in every tongue and culture across Althina. It was common tavern banter to boast about riding a dragon but very few people have actually met a real dragon rider. It all started with the humans. Yes the High elves had a friendship with the nénars and orcs have shared the land peacefully with diablos, but the humans were the first dragon riders. Favoriting the fire breathing species humans realized that Ikkumas were going to be a continuous problem and there was no wiping them out. Conquerors by nature humans seized any opportunity to tame the untamable and soon myth became reality. Dragon riders were now famed and feared across the lands. Mothers would tell stories of these great warriors, festivals were made to honor them. No longer were dragons intangible folklore, though still a rarity. Coming face to face with a dragon would still be an outer body experience. It was life changing, and for most life ending. People soon learned that not every dragon wished to live alongside others, but people would die trying. That’s not why you all were here though. You were here to help enforce the Kings army. The princess was demanding Althina to strengthen itself, even if it meant recruiting mages and forcing drafts. Not only were mages usually not required to go to the front lines, but even tieflings were getting pulled from their island. The mage recruitment was heart wrenching for most. Soldiers would show up to cults and schools pointing out who they wanted and they were given no choice. Some even picked up stray mages just trying to get from one place to another. Low level, masters of their crafts, human, dark elf, tieflings, all one by one were loaded up into a cart. It wasn’t a secret where they were going, the king's army camp was not too far from the high kings castle. Others received a nicer invitation or were simply wandered to the meeting point. Bordered by a dragon infested wilderness the new troops were smart enough to follow simple commands. Most would spend their time trying to process new reality while the others got acquainted. Some would explore the area , but there wasn't much to see. It was like any rest area ground or check point it wasn't made to spend more than a few hours there. There was a small creek which was good for who traveled on mount. There was a dark elf in coming out of the center tent who seem to be the one with authority. There were only three maybe four others who seemed to be common day labors. He did not say much to the arrivals, it was pretty obvious why they were their. Ofre was utilizing the camp after coming back from a small scouting trip. There was another hydra, he was tasked to find it.

 

[Deadwood Deer]

Morgan
Human, Mage
Interaction/Mention: Open

It was never a good day when even the birds didn't want to come out. The entire city seemed almost hesitant to do anything, and as Morgan collected her textbooks and theory scrolls, she saw out the window some of her tutor's former students attempting to vacate the city, along with several other people packing up and heading out. Apparently, they knew something she didn't. That wasn't all that uncommon, actually. Morgan was busy a lot. Lessons, research, it was getting more difficult to fund her study of magic as of late, and as a result she spend more and more of her time working and less and less time socializing.

Even as she strolled down main street towards where she and her tutor met for coffee in the morning before practice, the streets seemed largely emptied. Seriously, what had she missed? At least her tutor had not also abandoned her. "Good morning, Morgan," the woman said, already two thirds of the way through coffee and a bagel.

"Good morning, Gladys," Morgan replied, sitting down. Gladys wasn't a mage herself, at least, not anymore. She claimed that at some point in her thirties, she'd tried a spell that was well beyond what a human was supposed to be able to accomplish, and as a result she could barely manage a cantrip on her own without the aid of enchanted items. So she claimed. Considering that Gladys was in her fifties now, and Morgan hadn't seen the woman do anything beyond beyond make a magelight without using an item, and that had almost put Gladys on the floor with the effort. "Have you seen what's going on out there?", Morgan asked the woman. "I swear, there were at least triple this many people out yesterday, where did everyone go?"

"There's been a draft. Princess wants some more casters in her army, it seems like," Gladys replied, sipping her drink, "Some of the other casters and young folk have been trying to dodge it by skipping town." She shrugged and picked up what remained of her bagel. "I doubt they care about either of us, though. You're unregistered, and I'm old." Satisfied with that answer, Morgan pulled out one of her books to ask a question, only for Gladys to tell her to shut the book and put it away before she's seen. "You may be unregistered, but don't think they won't pop any magic user they see!", the old woman hissed.

Quickly shoving the old tome back into her bag, and asked her question anyway. "I've never seen you use the same enchanted item for more than a month, but it's a simple-"

"Oh, that's elf magic," Gladys replied, "It takes more mana than a human can muster, to enchant an object." She shook her head, "If I had a silver for every time I've been ripped off with a wand that has no charge, I could afford to hire an elf to make them for me!" She laughed at her joke and put down her empty coffee mug. "Anyway, we're going to have to tone it down with the lessons for a few weeks, at least until this draft blows over. I can't risk my best student getting yanked into the princess's mess, now, can I?"

"Where am I to practice?", Morgan asked, "I don't have a studio, and-"

"You'll just have to be careful, darling. You're still struggling with cantrips, aren't you? Practice those, most of them can be used in household chores." Gladys wasn't wrong with that suggestion, half of the cantrips available were essentially just ways of doing basic functions in the home. mending broken fabric, lighting the fireplace, chilling the drinks, figuring out whether it was going to rain, polishing the metal bits, and reaching things just out of reach. Morgan was not the best at those, yet. "Just be careful, though, you haven't figured out how to focus without your words, I'd advise against doing anything like that when you can hear other people around." That much was obvious.

"Of course," Morgan agreed. She didn't want to be involved in whatever war. She couldn't even lift a sword, let alone fight with one. At her skill level, she had almost no actual ability to do damage to another entity, except for Gladys's dress that one time, but that was a misfire.

"Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"Not if we're not going to the studio.'

"Alright then, darling, I will see you when this blows over," Gladys smiled and stood up, gathering her things. "Have a nice day, Morgan."

"You too." Morgan stood up and went back to her house. Well, house was a bit of an overstatement. It was more like the annexed attic of the neighbor of her landlord. Okay, house was a major overstatement, but there was enough room that Morgan could fit everything she needed to survive and do her thing. Up until this point, she'd made her money by finding things for people. Not items, or mysteries, but documents, stories, loopholes and vulnerabilities in legal contracts. It paid enough for rent, necessities, lessons, and some luxuries like the plants growing in the windows. The downstairs neighbors were slobs, though, and that made an insect problem, so most of the plants in the windows were of the kind that ate bugs, like flytraps and pitchers. Morgan was smart enough to know how to rotate the plants, though, so that the flowers that dealt with the smell didn't die and the plants that ate the roaches survived.

Pulling up a chair to a table and drawing the curtains, Morgan got ready to practice. She unfolded her spellbook to a page with a particular low level cantrip. Forming the appropriate signs and words, "Ljós dans!", a single sparkling sphere of light pops into existence and then flickered out. Frowning, she tried again. "Ljós dans!" This time the light stayed around a bit longer, managing to change a color and move about in front of her for about two inches before it flickered out as well. A third time,"Ljós dans!" Finally, a light that didn't pop when it did anything. That was good, improvement.

And then the sound of banging on her door distracted her and the light popped again. "Can I help you?", she asked.

'There's someone downstairs wants to talk to ya," came the voice of her landlord. "Official looking chap." Oh, no.

"I'll be downstairs in a minute!", Morgan called back as she scrambled to pack away her magic books and materials. When Morgan finally got downstairs, there was an official with a glowing crystal at the end of a wand.

"You are Morgan, I take it?", the official asked.

"I am," Morgan replied, "Why?"

Satisfied, the official reached into his coat and procured a rolled up document. "By imperial decree, all spellcasters in the city are to be transported. You have fifteen minutes to gather your belongings and prepare for an extended trip. Failure to comply will result in criminal charges and an extended tour." He closed the document and looked at Morgan's confused face. "Any questions?"

"...How did you know I was a spellcaster?" To answer this, the man held up the wand with the crystal.

"This item detects magic usage. The neighbor's house made it glow, but no one in that family was a spellcaster. You are the only other person living in that building." He pulled out a pocketwatch. "Fourteen minutes, madam."

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Morgan decided she hated carts. Especially imperial ones. It was overcrowded with far too many people for its size, the road was poor, the weather horrible, and if she was casting the spell right, it would continue to be horrible for some time. By the time the cart finally stopped moving at the meeting point, Morgan's ribs ached from so many elbows jabbing into her over the journey, her knees ached from getting hit by her neighbor's knees, and her lower back hurt from getting bounced around so much on the muddy and worn down roads. She looked almost like an old lady, hobbling to the side of the cart and taking a few moments to try and get her joints to behave properly, before getting her belongings, which was just a rucksack of clothes and her book satchel, rearranged on her back and at her side, from being crammed between her calves and the seat on the cart. Looking around, she really just wanted somewhere to sit where she wasn't being sandwiched between two people twice her size with no room to breathe.

Garcis
Tiefling, Farmer
Interaction/Mention: Open​

In recent winters, the tiefling island had been seeing increased trade with the rest of Arthina. That was good, Garcis decided, More trade meant more money. And more money meant they had more left over after the exhorbitant taxes levied at Tieflings. Garcis could afford to save to secure food even in event of a poor harvest. The farmer decided he liked having that ability to save more than was needed. With more coin available for use, the farm ran on better tools, the stall looked better with fresh paint and a repaired sign.

But the man still found things to worry about. Stories from the mainland. Forced enlistment despite no war. Entire towns carted off to training camps. The poor were hit the worst, the stories went, as the wealthy bought there way out of service, leaving the less fortunate with only three options: Submit, and become a forced soldier. Flee, and be arrested and forced to submit anyway. Or die, and be rid of the horrors of this world. It was a grim tale, but proof of something Garcis had feared for years now. As the princess came to power, relationships with nearby nations were becoming ever poorer. Friendly allies became agitated partners. Neutral nations became tense, waiting for a reason to attack. Enemies became ever more eager. The increased military might would surely only light the spark that would set the world on fire with war, Garcis thought. A war, that he did not want his sons to have to live through.

Life was already difficult, when you were born as a tiefling. Essentially confined to the island, the victims of continual legislation to make life increasingly harder to be born with the infernal blood in your veins. Life would only become worse for when conflict came calling. If even the elderly, unable to fight, were being conscripted on the mainland, how little discretion would be used when it finally came time to tap the resource of the island of tieflings? Garcis feared for his sons, but also for his wife. She was not a soldier, she was barely a laborer, although on occasion she did fulfill the role when poor harvest forced them to hire fewer farmhands and maintain their land entirely by themselves. It would be just as bad for the boys, ten and twelve years old, they were not ready to fight other boys in the mud, let alone risk their lives as soldiers!

These thoughts weighed heavily on Garcis, sagging his shoulders and turning down the smile that once adorned his face. Every night at the dinner table, as he looked around the table, he felt conflicted. At the shining faces of his two sons, Caris and Kacius, eager to be men yet still so young. So much to learn, such heights to grow. At his wife, Levlaia, so lovely, so sweet. Would they be okay, if a war broke out? Would they survive, if called to arms?

It had reached the point where he could no longer hide his worry from his wife. Levlaia was smart, and she knew her husband well. As they lay together in bed, Levlaia finally asked why he was so bothered. "You've scarcely touched me in days, what is the matter?"

The large red tiefling sighed as he looked at the ceiling, trying to find the words. Garcis was never the greatest wordsmith, which was strange considering how much thought he put into his daily life. The smaller pink tiefling rolled over to face Garcis, turning her solid blue eyes to meed his golden ones as she turned his head with her hand so they faced each other. "You're worried about the mainland, aren't you?", she asked. Garcis nodded. Fifteen years, they'd been married, and not once had she ever failed to know exactly what was plaguing him.

"I don't know what to do if a war happens," the man rumbled, "The boys cannot be soldiers, they will not survive."

"And what about you? Can you survive?", Levlaia asked, "Would you make me a widow?" Garcis didn't know the answer. It was already a struggle for a tiefling to own property, much less a tiefling woman. If Garcis were to fall, and his sons could not inherit the farm, what would become of everything he and Levlaia had built over the past fifteen years? Their home, their fields, the livestock, would it all be siezed by the state? Sold off at auction with his family receiving only a few coppers in return?

Levlaia seemed to know what he was thinking again. "The farm will still be here, you know the boys will never let some tax collector take it from us. It serves nothing to keep yourself awake worrying." She snuggled up against Garcis, "And it serves nothing to neglect your wife, either." She said that last part with a coy smile and a flick at Garcis's horns. Garcis smiled and pulled his wife closer, horn to horn.

------------------------------------------​

Morning came, and with it, the sound of pounding at the door to the farmhouse, rousing the couple from their sleep. Garcis groaned as he sat at the foot of his bed. "It must be Carmir," he decided, putting pants on to go answer the door of the man he was supposed to buy a milk cow from. Why Carmir could not wait until some time after the sun had risen, Garcis did not know, and he intended to give Carmir a piece of his mind for waking the house up at such an unholy hour. He was lucky the boys hadn't been woken up, or Garcis would have him unconscious on the back of his cow heading home by now!

Of course Garcis could not be so lucky as for it to be a business deal. Outside his door was a human with a horse, holding a lantern up to a form. "Do I have business with you?", Garcis asked.

"Garkiss Lesbo-son?", the human asked.

"Garcis Lesbmosson," Garcis corrected, "What do you want?" The human rolled up the form into a scroll and handed it to Garcis, and recited a line he'd no doubt said at least a hundred times this week.

"By imperial decree, one person for every five members of a household must report to the northern sub-port within two days time, or face charges of treason." The human climbed back onto his horse. "Do not lose that form, or whomever in your house that does arrive will not be counted as the required member of your household." His line delivered, the decree in the man's hand, the human wrinkled his nose at the tiefling and turned his horse, riding away.

"Who is it, Garcis?", Levlaia asked, poking her head out the door. Garcis turned and showed her the royal stamp on the document, earning a gasp from his wife. "T-t-that's a-a-a-" Garcis put up his hand to silence her.

"Not now," there was too much to do in that moment, and the sounds of the boys coming down the stairs told Levlaia that this was a conversation for later.

------------------------------------------​

Garcis stood out among the other conscripts in his cart. He stood out as a tiefling, but in addition both larger and more visible than some of the others he'd been transported with. He'd taken no time to get familiar with them on the journey. Considering how he was looked at sideways and with concern, especially towards the horns curling up towards the sky that grew from his forehead. When the cart finally parked at the meeting point with the region's other conscripts, Garcis was glad to be able to stretch his legs. His shoe was bigger than that cart.

Translations:
Ljós dans-Icelandic-Dancing lights, roughly.

 

[The True Plague]

To some, the sights of empty towns or villages would be a harrowing sight. Those unaware of the very nice manner in which the army was expanding might even suspect some dragons were involved. What could keep so many stuck in their home, afraid to enjoy the sun, as a wild dragon on the loose? Well, apparently, the sight of an official looking man. Jack just didn't understand it. If they were forcibly recruiting... Wouldn't it be better to go willingly, show some initiative, rather than wasting time trying to hide and shift the responsibility to others? Did they have no dignity? Would they rather be dragged away from comfort, or accepted within the swelling ranks of the military on their own terms? He just doesn't get it... Truly, he doesn't.

Then again, Jack didn't understand a lot when it came to more... Civilized life. It's easy for a man whose not had a set home for fifteen years now, to simply say leave it behind. A man who left his family couldn't understand the concept of wanting to keep such a unit together and safe. To want to spare your children from the horrors of combat, to want to save aging parents from the turmoil and strife of keeping up with the youngin's. What could a man whose life has been spent so far in unnecessary combat, possibly know the workings of a peaceful mind? "Bah... Leave me alone without stiff drink, and suddenly I think I'm a philosopher?" He grumbled to himself, disrupting the near silence that haunted him. Sure, the wind distantly carried bird song, and the distant sound of a creek bubbled playfully, but his was the only voice he's heard in... Two days now? Was that when he left that town resupplied? It seemed right.

Two whole days of travelling towards the camp on foot. Two days since he last saw one of those... Let's call them recruiters, to be generous. He's sure others have absolutely terrible names for them, but he saw no issue with these official men. They were a little bit pushy with offering to take him along in their carts... But Jack preferred not to be stuffed with an untold amount of others, of varying states of cleanliness and demeanor, for an inordinate amount of time. Did it cost him an extra two days of travel? Yeah. That horse probably could've pulled them to the camp swiftly enough... But Jack didn't know if it'd make any stops before then, and didn't care to find out. Much better, and probably safer, to walk with his two given legs, and trek out to the camp. Not like mercenary life hadn't prepared him for the occasional hard march.

He'd left the last town on his trek with little incident. Didn't see a single person. Whether its closeness to the camp, or desire to keep what few were overlooked safe, were the case of the disappearance, he didn't care. It did annoy him slightly, however, that he couldn't stop someone just to make absolutely certain he was on the right path. He'd been given directions, a road to follow and all that... But it'd have been better to make absolutely certain. Information is an important asset when making a trip, even if the trip is nearly over.

It was about another twenty minutes of walking that good ol' trail, worn from many boots and carts before him, and will be worn out even more by future carts and boots, before he finally came to a stop. Two official looking men were looking over parchments, conversing idly betwixt themselves about the numbers of new recruits coming in on their carts. So absorbed in their conversation they were, they didn't at first notice the man standing patiently in front of them until he cleared his throat.

"Oh... Hello sir. Are you here for the recruitment drive?" The chap on the left spoke up, a fake smile on his face, but annoyance in his tone. As if he couldn't believe his conversation would be interrupted. However, he was supposed to make sure each shipment of fresh meat for the grinder known as training and processing, so he'd put up with the sheer rudeness of the stranger whomst interrupted his chat.

"Yes. Otherwise I'd have walked the exact opposite way over the border." Jack replied with little emotion in his voice, his face conveying perfectly how fucking stupid a question that was to him. Oh, no, he merely walked towards the High King's castle for two fucking days to do some sight seeing obviously. You know, like any other sane, loyal man of their country in the middle of what might be the largest recruitment drive in history.

"Well... Follow this side path here, and you'll be in the middle of the camp." The chap on the right gestured to a more unrefined trail. Less a road, and more a path forged by many boots and wagons. It wasn't a permanent spot obviously, otherwise they'd have probably gave a damn enough to make an actual road to it for resupplying and such.

"Thank you, sir." Jack gave a slight wave as he turned, heading down the path. It wasn't long before he appeared in the thick of it, a lone man making his way in, observing the others with slight intrigue. So many different races represented. He'd guess a cart had just dropped off some fresh recruits. There was a particularly large teefling... Tiefling? Tie fling? Uhm... Horned people. The only other noticeable person must have been a human female. Given the book satchel, he presumed perhaps a mage of sorts. Who else thinks to bring a book satchel? For his part, Jack settled in for a small hobby of people watching. To see if he could find anyone he'd want to actually speak with besides what is required.

Back where the two officials were to ensure any stragglers made it to the camp, there was a change in topic from the numbers. "Think that guy's gonna survive?"

"Hah, fuck no!"

 

[Tetro]

"Astru- No... Astro.. Cadenmun?" Mordekai was staring down at the tome in his hand, while his other hand was held out with the palm facing up. "No that can't be right either. Maybe my hand isn't high enough." He widened his stance ever so slightly and raised his outheld hand higher. "That should do it. Now then..." Taking the time to read through the pages, Mordekai paid no attention to the approaching humans. "Here we go! Obviously..." He chastised himself for taking so long to find the right words to use.

Mordekai had spent months in the middle of "nowhere", far away from any cities or towns or villages. He knew practicing the more advanced magics could cause potential destruction to both people and buildings alike around him if he weren't careful. Many of the books he brought he had read thoroughly several decades ago many times over. Being the slight obsessive he was, he believed in perfecting a skill before moving on to the next. Unfortunately for him, that meant ignoring the goings-on of the world around him, including the 'sudden' forceable recruitment of all mages. Which included him.

"You there! Dark el-" Before the human could finish speaking, Mordekai, ignoring him completely, began his spell, "Stella descensus!" Slowly, the pages glowed a soft blue, and magic rose from it, amassing high above the two and becoming a single bright sphere. Looking up with a massive grin of success, Mordekai watched as the 'star' he had created begin its descent. But, his grin was quickly gone, along with the wooden shed he had built himself to act as his temporary shelter. The 'star' obliterated the dinky wooden structure and all within it. Fortunately, Mordekai, and those who had come for him, were far enough away so no one was in any danger. Burnt books and charred debris fell by them, with many pages and destroyed scrolls drifting around before landing.

Mordekai looked at where his shelter used to be, then his book, then his shelter, then his book. "...I think I messed it up." Shrugging, and closing his book, he finally turned his attention to the, soldier? guard? The human in the weird outfit. "Yes my good man, can I help you with something?" Mordekai asked the human that was staring at him with wide eyes. "B-By imperial decree," the man began, recomposing himself, "all spellcasters are to be-"

The drow stared at the human's mouth, completely zoning out. Something about spellcasters, the king's army, mandatory something, something, whatever. "-you have five minutes to gather your belongings and come with us, immediately." Mordekai caught the last part, snapping out of it. "Well, it's about time my talents were acknowledged. Very well, I will grace the king's army with my magic." He smiled big, ready to go on his next adventure, now that he had just ended his current one. "Will I be getting a staff, by any chance? My last one was in the shed."
~
The trip wasn't comfortable, but it was interesting. Getting to see the sights while more people were rounded up in the cart with him was something he hadn't experienced before. Mordekai kept to himself mostly, reading silently through the large tome he had. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that some of the people didn't want to be here. He couldn't imagine why. The prospect of having a job he couldn't be easily fired from was great.

When they reached their destination, Mordekai hopped out of the cart, taking a good look around while getting a nice stretch. "That spell took more out of me than I thought. I'm still feeling it." Very quickly, he noticed a fellow drow. The elf had an air of authority. Perking up, Mordekai walked over to his kinsman. "Good day! I am Mordekai. I take it you are the one in charge here?"

 

[Dumplingboy]

Ofre/dark elf
Dragon rider/ scouting guild
Tetro

Ofre walked over to fire where one of the labors had made a stew. He stirred the pot and seemed to be uninterested in the arrivals of the new troops. He continued to stir the stew when another approached him. He was not one for socializing and brushed past him to a stump a few feet away. Ofre picked up a stick and began to whittle away at it. “You with them?” the dark elf spoke in his native tongue to the other. “Then i’m not the one you are looking for.” Ofre glanced up at the sky squinting as the rays poked through the thin clouds, then back down to whittling. He seemed to be waiting for something, but he was clearly not freshly drafted like the rest of them. The king’s army had distinctive amour, he wasn’t dressed like a foot soldier but he did where the kings crest. Most people did not know that the kings army was broken into guilds, the warriors were the ones who made public appearances. From the form fitted build and the dark color it was safe to assume he was a scout of some sorts. Ofre looked over at the others fumbling around in confusion then gave the other elf a skeptic look. “You’re a mage?” Assassination was a stereotypical role for low drow, most dark elves who in the king's army preferred to fight in the shadows. There weren't many of them, seeing a dark elf outside of their kingdom was rare, but not as rare as the tieflings who had been rounded up.

 

[Dante Verren]

So it was really happening? The draft to fill in the ranks of the kings army was real, and they were coming to his quiet little town. Rumors of mages being forcibly picked up in the streets spread like wildfire. It didn't seem to matter what the skill level of the actual mages were, after all you can still be trained on more advanced techniques in the army. What really mattered was the amount of people they had. After all a highly skilled mage is only worth so many less skilled mages, and what was that phrase again? "You can't teach an old dog new tricks".

Colonn sat hunched over a desk, a tube of swirling liquid in his left hand and a syringe full of a different liquid in his right. Colonn was deep in concentration, so deep in fact that he didn't even realize the tip of his tongue was sticking out. With the up most procession that he could muster he ever so slightly pushed the level on the syringe inward causing a few drops of the liquid to fall into the tube. Gently Colonn set the syringe down, swirled the liquid together in the tube to make a new greenish color, capped the tube, and then got up to go find his dad. It only took a moment of searching before he heard the hushed whispers from the other side of the shop door.

"We can't let him know that they are coming today" he heard his mother say quickly. "If he finds out then where going to lose our little boy to the army!"

His father let out a deep and exhausted sigh "I know. I don't want him going off to fight in some war."

Both of the voices fell completely silent as Colonn knocked on the door "Hey dad, I got Old lady Baba's medicine finished. Did you want me to bring it in". There was silence for a moment before his father finally spoke, "No it's fine. Just leave it on the workbench. Don't forget to label it like last time. We don't want Baba's tongue to turn into wood again do we?" Colonn chuckled a bit "No sir, never again". Turning around he returned the vial for Miss Baba to the workbench then retreated up to his room.

It was mid day when the recruiter came. Colonn had been watching the flow of traffic past the family shop all morning. The moment he spotted the recruiter he grabbed his stuff and hurried downstairs. He didn't hear the first part of the conversation but he didn't need to. Colonn knew his father wasn't fit for military service and the thought of his poor sweet mother having to play soldier sent shivers down his spine. Colonn burst through the side doors of the shop, cutting off the conversation mid sentence. His parents with faces of horror at seeing the packed bags realized all too late what his intention was. "I volunteer as the representative for the High-hill family!" There was a moment of silence as the sentence seemed to bounce off the walls. Finally the recruiter broke the silence. "Very well then. If you are all packed come with me". Not a word was said between parents and child as Colonn stepped foot out the door.

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Colonn was glad to set foot on sturdy ground again. The cart ride was certainly not the most comfortable arrangement he had ever found himself to be in. There could definitely be worse but that list seemed rather small to him. What kind of mess did he find himself in now? Here he was standing at a military camp full of other freshly drafted new recruits, his only belongings being stuffed into his rucksack or his traveling satchel that stored the basic supplies for him to continue his work. He felt terrible for how he left his family but, at the same time this was a once in a life time chance. The amount of research he and experiments he could perform here were limitless add on the fact that who knows what else could happen here made it the perfect time for him to be equal parts excited and terrified. Emotions he was currently feeling as he stood among the other recruits.

 

[Tetro]

Mordekai kept his positive attitude, even when his brother in arms responded the way most of their kind did. Mordekai chuckled in response to being told that Ofre wasn't the one he was looking for. He switched to their native tongue, responding to Ofre questioning if he were a mage, "one of the best you'll ever meet. But I am not introducing myself to you because I am looking for the one who will be commanding me. It does me no good to be unfamiliar with my fellow elves during a time like this. Especially when one of them holds a good position in the human king's army." Mordekai glanced up, looking also for whatever Ofre might be looking for. "Nevertheless, it was nice to meet you." He left his kinsman to go interact with the other new recruits. He spotted a rather interesting looking girl with a book satchel in the cart that he wouldn't mind sharing some words with regarding the arcane arts.