The Dungeon Crawlers

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"Ha. Ha heh heh er... Show off," Ben said. "That's not training. However..."
Ben reached into his pocket and and withdrew the small satchel he had just uncovered. Inside was his most prized possession: a small dagger. The handle was wrapped in cracked leather; the blade had a notch.
The man in red was crouched nearly forty feet away by a large door. Ben found his target.
Wshhhhhhhh.
The blade stuck, ringing along its small length. It was inches from the man's head.
"See, I can 'train' too."
 
Zack was shocked that Ben would so willingly throw a knife at someome. "How is that training?! It's impressive, that's for sure....but it's more making ememies than training."
Zack looked around, trying to see if anyone else watched Ben nearly kill Crimson.
 
So it began. Assallya walked up to Crimson, Alistair, Zack and everyone presently practicing their various trades against the crude targets. Leave it to men to build such things when a legion of monsters lay on the other side of a doorway. As if fending off unspeakable evils each night wasn't exercise enough. Still, she had watched the men banter and those that bantered without killing one another weren't likely to turn on her- hopefully.

Once she knew who was in charge she was going to see about calculating schedules and assigning those who did not wish to go out and fight creatures to do something about this squalor. This was truly a camp made up of men. The rock beneath her feet, a form of flat shale, hadn't been swept in years and the dwellings were little more than refuse piled up against itself to afford some semblance of privacy. If they were going to be here some months yet they needed to do something about accommodations, at the very least, for those that were wounded in battle.

As she walked up towards them she adjusted her gait. She didn't want to sway her hips or accentuate her feminine figure. Right now she was a prisoner so she adopted a more masculine means of walking, leaning forwards into her strides like one who possessed determination and had a goal. It was a shame she couldn't do anything about her outfit. A dancing girl's outfit didn't fit her assumed role as a leader but poise and gait could be nearly as effective as a guise.

"Hello everyone," she greeted the group of warriors in an amiable fashion, "Would any of you know who is in charge here?"
 
"I have no clue. The king is the one who put us down here, so I guess he is. Down here, I don't know. I used to be a general and military advisor to the king. I can do it, I guess. Who might you be?" StormDeath replied.
 
"I believe the person in charge would be the person who assumes charge. That is, until other people start being competitive, like pack animals. But if you mean the actual establishment, I wouldn't have the faintest clue, but obviously someone who could care less about the lot of us." Alistair responded with a smile. "I'm curious who I have the pleasure of talking to. My name is Alistair. What is yours?" He asked the elvish girl.
 
The general and military advisor to the King guessed he could do it? Well, that pretty much explained how he got down here. No general "guessed" at his own competence or leadership capability. He simply led until someone either outranked him said otherwise or someone else was capable of better. Now this Alistair had the right idea.

"My name is Assallya Kressair," Assallya said, dispensing with the usual curtsy or elaborate hand fluttering like she normal would. After all, it wasn't like anyone there had held out his hand for her to take. "Pleased to meet you Alistair. I'm a sorceress and I'm going to be getting us out of this gods forsaken cavern."

That one, he was pale, seemingly want individual. He looked almost sickly but he moved gracefully. That was an odd combination and the diminutive elven woman didn't know what to make of it. He did seem pleasant enough but then so did a number of dangerous creatures. For all she knew this Alistair was down here for murdering harlots above in the city.

"You," she said to the one claiming to be a general and hadn't offered her a name, "You have the skills. Assess the fortifications. Though I presume it won't happen, if a giant troll comes through that door the moment it opens I want options.

"Then from the rest of you, we'll need a census," she added, azure eyes flashing and tone deferring any semblance of contest, "We need to know how many men we have and what skills they possess. Then some idea of what materials we have for building defenses, what provisions and medical supplies we have."

It was forward. It was daring. A small tiny even woman scarcely five feet tall telling these men several hands taller than herself what to do. She wasn't sure how they'd react to a mere woman, and a stripping half naked thing like herself giving orders but she also hoped her tone, her strength of will and her good sense would win her the day.
 
Zack was glad to have someone taking charge and getting things started, although he worried that the others might not be so open, He quickly moves past his concerns, stands up, and adjusted his equipment on his back so it sat comfortably. "My name is Zackary. I'm not the strongest, but I'll be happy to help whenever I can." He smiles at her before looking around, trying to figure out what needs to be done first.
 
StormDeath turns to the woman. She's got balls, this one. "My name is StormDeath. Assessing the fortifications was the first thing I did. There are none. This was designed, not by me, as a forward assault camp. There are none. We are all the worst criminals of the worst. I don't mind you taking charge. I couldn't stop you if I wanted to. Your a sorceress. I'm a general. But... In that dancers outfit, you won't get much help from the men. Come to my tent with me and wait outside. I should have some clothes, armor, and weapons you can use." With that, he walks away, not even looking to see if she was following.
 
"Benjamin, and a pickpocket, at your service, m'lady," Ben said as StormDeath left. See, that was the thing. Go along with the plan, even if he wasn't entirely sure he trusted the little she-elf in front of him. He turned back to Zack.
"As for me knife-throwing, I didn't almost kill 'em, you know. Besides, he looked goofy, doin' that praying thing, and he was an easy target. Jeepers, I wouldn't try to kill someone..."
Zack was an interesting fellow. For one, he towered over Ben. Then, he seemed a bit spazzy. Like one of the underlings in the street gangs Ben would often encounter. He'd seen the type. He obviously wouldn't last long here, or else he'd have to adapt quickly. Ben snorted.
"Why're you in here? You don't seem the type to commit crime. You seem like more of a scholarly book-reader or an aristocrat. I don't know. Something less... threatening?"
 
Metal, magic and metal did not mix well. Gold and silver were fine but there was something about iron and steel that were detrimental to the arts of magic. Worse still was cold wrought iron, bindings of such could render a magician like herself nearly helpless. Only the most skilled of magicians could work the arts through cold wrought iron and then only the must subtle and basic spells. Still, she didn't want to admit that to anyone.

"Please General," Assallya stated, beckoning the others to follow in the Stormdeath's wake, "I do not think you would have the armour to fit a boy and there is no smithy down here.

"I also," she added, "don't need to lead men. That I can leave to those with the experience. I've read about tactics and siege engines but I've never stood a line, breast to breast, behind the shield of the man to my right."
 
Ben laughed, cutting in before StormDeath could reply. "Look, lady, e'n if you don't wear any armour, you must-" and he took off his breastplate, slipping off the leather vest and giving it to her "-wear this." He put his breastplate back over his shirt. "Please, it would do me much pleasure to see you protected e'n in the smallest way possible." He gave an exaggerated low bow, winking at Zack.
 
Zack replied to Ben's wink with a look of confusion. "Why did you just...er....anyways. I'm hear because I attacked a bunch of people while hyped up on....well, what I thought was sugar. The more I think about it, the less likely it was sugar..... It wasn't that bad of a crime, really. No one needed serious medical attention. No, I chose to come here so that I could actually do something with my life." He frowns and looks at his feet." I've never had the opportunity to prove myself...because no one wanted me around. I j-er uh...Sorry. This isn't the time for a monologue." He looks up and smiles once more. "What do you need me to do?" He looks around yet again, hoping to see something that he can help with.
 
The scene that unfolded in front of him was somewhat of a circus act. He would enjoy this bunch. They were entertaining—with their own skills and abilities. A magical elf, a pickpocket, some toughguys, a strange kid, and a vampire. It sounds like a novel. Alistair was excited.

"My skills? Well, I wouldn't say I have many skills, but abilities, I do have. After my death, I was left with a multiple of abilities. I'm hard to kill, for one. Well, kill again. I'm in an un-dead state, and there's few ways to re-kill me. Then, I was left with good agility, decent strength... I have a dagger, as well. But I feel like my most handy ability... Is also a bit of a curse, and may leave any of you with a bad taste on your tongue. I am of vampiric species—and so I have the teeth to cause more damage than I would like. I would warn you of a hunger, but I could prove a powerful adversary if you want, Asallya." He bowed his head momentarily.
 
Nightshade hadn't fully approached the others but she did listen. Her expectations with most where honestly pretty low being usually the men around that had spoken to her had gotten a split throat but she had understood the need for allies which is why she wouldn't be the one talking. Yet she couldn't help but judge slowly anyways. She also noticed there was a vampire which had her rather curious knowing the werewolf a few weeks back didn't last but then again the werewolf didn't not because of the challenges within but because he keep hitting on her and wouldn't leave her alone about personal questions so he had to go. The others she just didn't know.

Nightshade couldn't help but sigh in where she stood near the group but she hadn't said anything so perhaps it wouldn't draw attention. She had been thinking perhaps a little much. But now she knew her patients on when they could fight was fading and fast. She looked a t the targets the others had been practicing on and threw her dagger hitting right her mark the center of a bull-eye. She then swiftly took it back and once more waited quietly the small activity restoring some of her patients but not much. She did know though part of why she was seeming frustrated might be the fact they needed a leader. 'Why might we need a leader? Why not just allies?' She wondered she hoped if the group did she could still treat them only as allies and not have to particularly listen to anyone. But if she did she for now would prefer the only other woman she has seen in a while down in the dungeon.​
 
A single wizened eye watched as Assallya strode towards the group of flexing males who were currently wasting energy and arrows. The owner of eye was one of the oldest men in sight, perhaps not the oldest as not everyone dumped here looked their age. A sly glint in that single eye betrayed a curiosity that his grim set mouth had long since been trained to withhold. The other eye was hidden under a strip of cloth that had been dyed grey and brown by time and use. Across the man's lap lay arrows newly fletched with a strange stiff moss that was far easier to find down here than any sort of usable bird feathers. It had been a laborious task as most of the man's arrows had lost their fletchings but patience and a steady hand saw the work complete without to much moaning and groaning. However for the moment he seemed to have forgotten the items in his lap in favor of a few strips of jerky which after a few bites he offered to a pile of dirt colored robes that was leaning against an old stump next to him.

Feeling the gentle tap on her back the pile shifted to reveal a face and then in turn to reveal a hand as the small girl accepted the bit of food. The girl was small but unblinking eyes and sunken cheeks let her look more her age. As she started eating a large dark brown rat extracted itself from where it had been nestled in her hood. Settling itself on the stump it kept badgering the girl until it to got a share of the jerky.

"Soon Tare? Soon?" The voice was hardly above a whisper but it still caught Tare's attention and he turned his eye back to the girl.

"Most likely. Glen, remember what I said about once the fighting starts?" he said grimly finally taking a moment to move the completed arrows to his quiver. The answer received only a nod and a knowing smile as Glen gently stroked the rat.

"We remember. We must be quiet. So quiet. No sound. Shhhhh." She said talking more to the rat than Tare her words fading into a quiet shushing sound. Accepting to answer Tare shifted his attention back to the girl who had approached the group of when with the other girl at her back. Seemed someone was finally trying to organize the ramble that was constantly being cycled through this depressing pit. Tare himself had long given up with such a task, limiting most of his communication to when the doors finally started to open and the battles started. Glen presented a definite exception, but then again Tare wasn't one for specifics. However at the moment the boys seemed to be more concerned about what the girl was wearing.

"Stay put." Tare said getting to his feet freezing Glen in place before she made an attempt to get up. Pausing to place the quiver of arrows inside the doorway of the little hut he claimed he brushed off his lap, put away the knife he had been using, and made his way towards the group. As he got close enough to here Alistar give his little introduction. In Tare's experience vampires were often more trouble than they were worth, he would have to keep a very close eye on that man.

"Put the armor back on, she's not a fighter from the looks of it. If you plan to survive for five minutes you will need the armor. If we all survive we can make more armor." He said. He crossed a pair of heavily scarred forearms across his own chest. "And you all stop tossing your weapons around you are going to dull them and waste your energy."
 
Ben tightened his breastplate and pocketed his knife sullenly.
"Listen, old man, I'm just trying to-" He looked at the man's face.
"Say, I've seen you around before. You've been here at least as long as I have."
He was sure he remembered some incident between the two of them. An alarm bell went off in his head. This old, one-eyed man meant trouble.
 
Nightshade listing to his man who approached who she had seen many times before but never spoke to. He some said had been around longer than her but she almost just as long. The two had never spoken and she never remembered much but knew he had a little girl who stayed with him she closed her eyes when he commented on them throwing blades or shooting arrows. She didn't ever really seem to waste energy being she was the one to usually kill the others before the time to fight through the open doors of the dungeon.

Nightshade seeing this man finally seem to near her felt it wasn't because of her but because of the woman she herself had some interest in. Perhaps he noticed that she was trying what he had in the past as rumor had it. Not that she was ever asked before. She only wished to leave but wasn't willing to if it meant she had to listen t others it had always seemed.

She then simply sighed once more hearing someone begin to speak to the man. Once more it would seem on how long they had been here. The maters she never asked nor cared being it was a personal matter she wasn't willing to straight up share.​
 
Alistair sighed and glanced at the man. He quite disliked anyone who believed themselves to be superior—and flaunted it around in such a nonchalant and indifferent way. 'Put the armor back on.' For some reason, Alistair found that quite pertinacious. Yet, he wouldn't let this spite he created in his mind enter his words. Swallow the bile, don't spit it like venom. "I feel as if that may cause a bit of power struggle. Two who seem to assume leadership will not easily work alongside each other. You two may butt heads, and so I may step out of the situation if that happens. No use having leaders who kill each other before we even begin killing whatever we face." He gave a grin. The chaos would be fun, but so would be having a friendly group.
 
Zack could tell a situation was arising. He read the faces of those around him and took a full step back. "I uh..I'm going to find something to do..." He looked around yet again and spied a broom laying next to a crate, both covered in conwebs and dust. He quickly walked over, brushed the webs off, and began an attempt to clean the floor.
 
Alistair watched Zack's sad attempt at removing himself from the situation. He shook his head. Kids. I mean, Alistair only died in his twenties, so he could somewhat be referred to as a kid.. But he has a few years of being 24 under his belt. He knows what it's like being an adult. Either way, he decided to maybe help Zack out a bit, as a bit of a consolation for giving him a scare before. He started towards the sweeper, shaking his head and laughing quietly. "I never took you for a maid."
 
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