Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20160319173730/@comment-5543592-20160324003940

A camp of several thousand soldiers and even more horses sat in a grassy plain, on the outskirts of a jungle. Surrounded by a bulwark, the camp was fell defended, all within it dressed in fine red-colored uniforms worn over sturdy form-fitting brest plates. Banners waved over the camp, boasting the sigil of a mount and bow, the emblem of the Keshik.

The soldiers did things you would expect of soldiers. Drank, gambled, trained, ate, slept. They milled from tent to tent freely, talking to friends and comrades. The sense of comradiery was high here. And, at the center of it all, an Orc sat on a crate.

Girth inspected his ale bottle peering into it with one eye. Empty. That was unforunate. He was hoping it'd last a bit longer. The thick-waisted Orc rose, the crate groaning as his considerable weight was lifting from it, and moved towards the camp stores. Crimson always kept a vast quantity of drink on hand. Both for himself, and his men. It was odd. The Archer claimed to drink frequently, and he did, but not in the amounts he seemed to want people to think. In fact, he tended to act a little drunker than he actually was. Girth was unsure why Crimson did that. He was unsure about a lot of things Crimson did. Half the time he was uncertain why he followed the Redguard. The man was unlike any leader Girth had ever known. In fact, Crimson lacked any qualities of a leader, aside from charisma. But he didn't lead this band for his appeal, he lead it for his ability to win battles. Girth was a excellent commander, but he could never properly emulate the unique blend of insanity and genius that Crimson possessed. The Redguard could spout ridiculous nonsense, thoroughly convince you he was a bit daft or a free-loading lay about, and then go on to do something impossible as if it was nothing. And it was nothing to Crimson. The chief preferred to brag about made up things inside of actual accomplishments.

Girth reflected on this as he approached the stores- and was halted halfway there by a wiry man with dark hair and a chiseled face.

"Girth." Forks greeted him with a quick salute.

The Orc raised a brow at the man in front of him. "What are you doing back here, Forks?  You're supposed to be with Crimson."

"He sent me back here.  To talk to you."

"About?"

Forks outlined the situation at hand, and once done, Girth brought a hand to his square jaw, considering.

"A hundred?" The Orc asked.

"Yeah.  He wants them all carrying kite shields and swords, but then a selected portion of them would be using their bows and be an archery battalion."

"It's simple." Girth said, appraisingly.

"Yeah, I guess." Forks agreed indifferently, with a shrug.

"Chief doesn't work with simple.  I'll send them over.  We'll put Heartbender in charge.  He could use a day out."

Forks groaned. "Him?  Crimson's not going to like that."

Girth shrugged himself. "So?"