The Return Home.

[*Biohazard89]

Standing in the hive ward at the entrence of an abandoned blockhouse, Vale lights a lho stick and takes a drag double checking his provisions and his cold weather gear one last time while he waits for Milan to arrive.

Vale: *sigh* I really hope he knows what he's getting himself into...

Nearby some ragged looking hivers stare at Vale's armor and the precious pendant that hangs from his neck, no doubt wondering how they could get their hands on it.

As the Hivers pass another group approaches...a group of Hiver kid's Vale knows,
He smiles and nods to them as they come closer.

Gregory: 'ey Vale ye'h come 'ere t'use tha 'ol house again?
Vale: Aye thats the plan lad, although i be waitin for someone first.
Gregory: A'ight Vale, jus be careful in ther. Tha Kadyx been stirrin 'bout again.
Vale: Thanks for the warning Gregory. *tosses a few coins to the kids and hands gregory a small pouch* Heres the Medicin for your Ma Lad.

He then waves them off and resumes his equipment check while he waits on Milan..

[*Mil]

"You told me it was all my fault, yet you've sat here for weeks and months and you haven't produced a damn thing, woman, and now you're angry that I am finaly doing something productive?", Milan angrily stares at Tara Swift.

"That, my dear leather-head, is because I stop to think twice before I rush headlong into something! I said it hundred times and I'll say I again: none, not ONE SINGLE PORTAL that I managed to survey was stable or remotely safe for travel to Toril. How do you know this on won't collapse? How do you know if won't send you to some layer of Abyss, rather than Dale? And last, do you think I wouldn't rush this very minute to it if I was absolutely sure it is a genuine, Tymora-honest way back home?! All you have is that ex-hardhead's word and nothing else!"

Armor-clad man and small redhead stare angrily a one another for a few brief moments, before Milan breaks the silence again:

"If it is his word, I am content. I trust Reynolds, and so should you. Now, excuse me, I am already late... and I will prove you wrong, but that's a small thing compared to the chance of going back to Highcliff. Tymora's smiles upon you, Tara."

She shakes her head in anger and sorrow.
"...Tymora's smiles upon you, you big lug... don' get killed."

Milan checks his sidearms and armor; other than that and a bottle of Cormyr Red, he does not bother to carry additional supplies. Once he's sure everything is in order, he waves to Tara Swift once more, silently, and leaves.

[*Biohazard89]

Milan arrives at the blockhouse and they set off into the abandoned building,
they walk for what seems like age down its dark corridors, and the occassional scratching sound and cold wind can be heard in the abandoned building, giving the impression they are being followed.

After a little while longer they arrive at what looks like a broomcloset, as Vale opens the door and pulls out the copper rod, the air starts to shimmer and suddenly there is a flash of light followed by a gust of Freezing wind. Through the door way they see the frozen plains of Icewind Dale before them.

Vale:Well Milan this is the last chance you have to come to your sense and head back *chuckles* Once your there the Portal goes dormant for a few days.

The Scratching sounds from the corridors come closer followed by a pair of burning eyes in the darkness that comes closer to the two.

A deep hollow voice speaks from out of the darkness.

Voice: You are not welcome mortals.

Vale:Aww shite...Milan we have to go now! its the Kadyx we cant fight that.

[*Mil]

*standing ready with the blade Kelth gave him, his reserve sidearm and shield on his back, his heat pounding like an orc drum and his backside scales turning purple from excitement and rush, Milan froze and couldn't believe what he just heard*

"...Vale, what in nine hells?! we are so damn close! We... are we NOT ready for this sod?"

*looking at his comrade in arms, then at himself, both heavily armed and ready for battle, Milan sensed huge urgency in Vale's voice; shaking his head in disgust he backs down from the portal and raises his claymore, setting himself into defensive position*

[*Biohazard89]

Grabbing a hold of Milan's arm Vale starts to yell some sense int Milans face.

Vale: Milan im not kidding we have to go...that thing will kill us both like we were nothing. Not even the Lady could dispose completely of that thing!.
I intend to come back from this alive Milan but thats not gonnna happen if we fight that thing, Now C'mon Dammit!

Vale grabs Milan by the shoulder and drags him into the portal closely following himself.

The damp dusty air of the blockhouse gets replaced by a cold fresh mountain air, as they emerge from the portal the greeting part is a band of soldiers wearing chainmail and furs, pointing spears and bows at the two.

Then a sergeant steps forward and looks like he is about to adress them when he see's Vale's face and promptly makes a salute.

Sergeant: Welcome back my lord, if we had known you would return this soon we would have prepared...

Vale interupts the Sergeant by raiseing a hand and speaking.

Vale: Theres no need sergeant..i know my odd trips tend to leave you at a loss sometimes. However i have a friend with me you should meet seeing as he will be your acting Captain for the duration of this Crisis were in.

Vale looks back at Milan as he tells the sergeant the news...

[*Mil]

*still shaky and disoriented from the jump, he eyes Vale's men; cold sweat and memories of what happened to the unit he last commanded appear... but he straightens up and shows none of it to the man-at-arms as he begin to speak*

Milan: M'name is Milan Abrams, men. First, no need for formalities - you can call me Mil... that's how everyone called me back in Neverwinter's army. Second, biggest rank I ever held was corporal, so that means you technically outrank me, sergeant. That also means that I will listen to any and all good advice you have for me before we plan anything, but beware: I want none of you seriously hurt or, Tymora forbid, dead because you didn't have enough smarts to listen to reason. If that means we have to fall back and run sometimes, then we shall do so. I ran before and I lived... I won't run when we're fighting the enemy, rest assured.

When we fight, we ALL fight, as a tight-knit team; when we're in wedge formation, I and I alone am the point of the wedge, best armored swordsmen in the unit are my flanks and snipers are on far edges and back, where no one can hurt them. We will fight simple and we will fight ten times as ferocious as our enemies, so we can instill fear of gods into their blasted hides.

Oh, and one last thing... if we have mages capable of casting fireballs, you will let me lead the initial assaults until I draw enemies all around me... then, they can launch all the fireballs in the multiverse on my position... *pauses to show curious men his neck scales and grins* ...they may burn, I will not.

*stands firmly, salutes sergeant and his men, then takes time to shake their hands and get acquainted with them*

[*Biohazard89]

Vale move's up to Milan and smiles a bit, then he puts his hand on his shoulder.

Vale: Milan..this isnt the only men youll be in charge of, your a captain now and thus you will be in chrage of parts of the frontlines when the attack begins.
Not just this unit but you will be in charge of a battalion Milan, i trust you to drill the men in whatever manner you see fit but you have to place the trust of the men in you...here in the dale trust and respect is earned...not given just because of a rank and title.

Vale lets go of Milans shoulder and gestures the soldiers to march to the fort which is visible in the distance, he then turns to Milan.

Vale:We will discuss more once were at the fort Milan...

[*Mil]

Running. Constant running, breath being taken over, heart pounding insanely, eager to burst out of chest, and running. Running. Hounds of Luskan and their butcher knives, freshly painted in my comrades' blood, the only thing with vivid color in the entire city of burned down, rain-soaked grey and charcoal. Running.

Even as he watched his new brothers and sisters in arms train during a brief pause that day, Milan stood and reminded himself that this will probably go wrong, all of it. No matter how much you plan things, something always goes wrong. That's why he has the same damned nightmare repeating for years, over and over and bloody over.

Still, he will do whatever is in his power to make them into killing machines, incapable of mercy if needed. Much worse that the 'monsters' that are marching against their homes even as they stop to pause and train more.

Standing near a tree, shielded against cold wind, he watched spearmen and man-at-arms train that morning. They were a tough bunch, these Northeners, but very few actually saw much action against creatures such as orcs, hobgoblins, bugbears or, Chauntea forbid, trolls. So, it was a time for him to share all he could remember about how to defeat and kill as many of them in shortest possible time, with smallest possible effort.

To spearmen and halberdiers, he ordered to train swift charges in twos and fours and practice flanking maneuvers, short and deadly moves and told them where typically to aim when they try to pierce or altogether completely bypass armors that bugbears and orcs usually wore. To archers, he also told where are most common soft-spots in armors of beast-kin. To clerics... well, he told them to focus on healing, prayers and spells that could strike enemy mages from significant distance (in case they had magical ways of protecting themselves from arrows).

With both of his company lieutenants and all sergeants he shared his larger knowledges about warfare against beast-kin; how they reacted if they saw enemy as fearless and reckless as they were, and how they respected enemy that would show new levels of brutality that they didn't think of before. He told them, straight and open, to give their men orders to freely desecrate enemies' corpses, to sew off their ears, noses, pull out teeth and slice off finger bones and make ornaments and necklaces out of them that were clearly visible, to flay and slice their bodies and hang remains onto trees, as feast for crows. He explained to them in detail where the color red on his brigade's armor was from, and what transpired in the aftermath of battle of the Three-Hills Bog in Merdelain, fought in Shadow King war. At first, they looked at him as if he was a rabid Malarite, completely out of his mind... but he spoke with a somber, serious tone and soon they all realized that, the less mercy they show and the more killing they do, the greater their chances are to save most of their lives, as well as their homes and families. So, in the few skirmishes with enemy scouts that they had during their cautious and deliberate progress trough woods, there was not much left out of their enemies after the men were trough with their bodies.

Most of his force was intacked, suffering only few dozen lighter wounds and no deaths. Most of them. Milan knew that there would be much dying, no matter how brave and committed his men were, on the day they hit Shaengarne bridge in force. Vale took his regiment head-on toward enemy, straight to Shaengarne, while Milan's two mixed companies took to backroads and woods, in a wide arc, with a plan to split up just before the bridge and attack enemy's rear simultaneously from two sides. But, no matter how much he trained them in this short time and no matter how well he taught them to show no mercy (for they would receive none), he knew hat there would be dying en-masse once more, and he dreaded it deep inside.

But this time, he promised himself he wouldn't retreat, come death or another victor's blood bathing.


((this is being constantly edited; my train of thought doesn't work well with English language, which isn't my native one))

[*Biohazard89]

After weeks of training and skirmishes with the enemy Vanguard the day finally came when Milan and Vale's forces were to march on the Shaengarn Bridge.

Platoon after Platoon of Soldiers clad in the best the Dale had to offer marched out of the fort near Bryn Shander and onwards towards glory and honor.

Vale's men clad in Black and Gold armor with Insignias of Bremen, Targos and Easthaven incrested opun their shoulder guards and shields. While Milans men were clad in Grey and Red with Insignias of Lonelywood, Bryn Shander, and Termalaine. Their Weapons and armor shining in the Winter Sun. Auril had smiled upon them this day letting the Snow and freezing wind settle if only for a day.

Marching for Two days Milan constantly readying their men for the horrors of battle while Vale secluded himself in his Tent surrounded by untold amounts og sketches and battle plans, Though in what he was really doing was praying to the Red Knight for guidance and blessings for the men he asked to fight and die for their homeland.

Thoughts of Vale's old comrades during his time in the Harmonium Acheron Legions came back. their face's pleading haunting him with memories of Faliures and broken promises, his comrades lying dead or dying on the metallic fields with Demons violateing their corpses in the most horrific ways imaginable.

After a restless night Vale orders the soldiers ot gear up and head out of the Camp at first light, but several hours before he had ordered Milans regiment to position themselves and wait for the enemy to walk right into the trap set for them.

As th dawn breaks the battle lines of the Dalesmen and the Horde of Goblins orcs Bugbears and other horrors become visible from the Position Milans soldiers had taken.

Volley after Volley of Arrows Pound against the Horde killing many of the smaller beasts, but the horde starts to move with amazeing speed towards the lines of Vale's men.

A Volley of Flaming Arrows strike the Beasts, Thats the signal Milan was waiting for, quicky he barks the order for his men to move in behind the horde.
As Milan moves into position the battle Rages on Vale side Himself and his men feeling the full brunt of the horde. Despite being Outnumbered by a margine of five to one his men holds their ground, but it is clear to vale that they are tireing against the unrelenting onslaught. Several Red robed figures are in the midst of the horde slingin devastating spells at the Dalesmen.

too be continued.....

[*Mil]

"Some say, the Dev'l is dead, the Dev'l is dead, the Dev'l is dead..."


His pulse is quickened only by a margin, as he occasionally glances left and right toward his men who are ready, filled with anticipation, adrenaline and a few drops of best brandy they could afford, for extra spunk. He has to constantly remind himself NOT to jump and run screaming toward the enemy who is slugging it out, toe-to-toe, with much smaller Vale's regiment... but the beast in him is too ready. Too excited.


"...some say the Dev'l is dead n' buried in Merdelainee..."


At one point, he has a terrible premonition; images of his family, his friends, all the places he knew and loved, fond memories... her image, still fresh and lingering in his mind, tormenting him with desire... they pass in front of his eyes, and he realizes he will never go back home. And he'll never return to her, not the man he is now... hands shaking, he takes a good, long swig of brandy himself and closes his eyes, letting only his ears listen, for a moment, the sounds of butchering in the distance... then he opens them up again, looks at the young spearman on his left and grins encouragingly; when he turns his eyes beyond the edge of woods where they all hide in wait, he can see a small figure pacing straight toward them.


"...more say he rose again, more say he rose again, more say..."


"Calm down lad! Breathe! What are Lord Reynolt's last orders, do we charge now?"

"Aye... yes, Sir! Lord Reynolt commands that you immediately move in and attack from both flanks!"

He gives the exhausted runner water canteen, giving him enough pause to catch breath, then sends him, along with their own messenger, to inform the second company and join their ranks. Then, he turns to his first company's lieutenant and men around him:

"Alright, this is it boys! Pass the word and be ready! Sergeant! The marksmen know their job?" *man readily nods* "first five volleys onto their sodded mages, then fire at will to support our charge and DO NOT spare a single arrow! Lieutenant, tell the men to get ready and wait for my signal."


"...he rose again and joined the Greycloak Army."


I love you, I will always love you, even if I could not be a husband and a father to your child, beloved... Vanya, I... I am so sorry

As he watches the first volleys of fiery needles launched by Vale's snipers fall from sky on top of wretches in front of them, Milan firmly grips the claymore that Kelth gave him with both hands and rises to his feet, all six feet of burning rage, fear, own and orkish blood smeared over his face and already darker red armor; and, as he turns left and right, he screams the words loudly, so that every man in both companies could hear him:

"For your homeland, families and Dale! Show them how the sons of North wage war! Follow me!!