Thread: A Fine Predicament (Retro/Tryste)

The men standing in a small cluster all turned to look at her as she approached. One, a man that she had not seen yet holding a bow that was several inches taller than her was, let out a whistle as he spoke to Michael. So this is the one, Skywalker? If you don't want her contract, let me know! Michael gave an unamused smile to the man as he spoke, Not so fast, squints. My last pledge just left and I think a new one is in order. Besides which, do you really think Julliana would let you take another one on? That caused a braying laughter from several of the men. Julliana was well known to wear the proverbial pants in Squint's household, and sometimes even the tail kicking boots. She had come to the city as another pledge, but things had spiraled out of control for the archer pretty quickly. Michael cut off the laughter with a gesture as she got closer, and gave a slight bow. You've met only part of the band, I believe, and lack proper introductions, Michael said, beginning to gesture around the circle of men in turn. This is Truett, who's also called Deuce. He is my second in command and the one you should turn to if you're ever unable to find me. I trust him implicitly. The man beside him turned to her, nodded, and lifted his helmet off of his head, revealing an older black man. He was perhaps in his mid-thirties, old as dirt by the standards of the change world, where those who were older simply didn't fare well. Michael's motion turned to the next man in line as he spoke, This is Van, also called nutcracker. He's our hammer, and cook. Van's helmet, too, came free from his head, revealing a man in his early twenties but also something that was almost unheard of in this day and age...he had some extra fat on his bones. He had never been truly big, but his genes dictated a thin layer of fat between skin and muscle, something that had helped him survive before he fell in with the other refugees. The joker here is Nathan, also known as squints. He's our archer and comedic relief. Hey! The young man said, pulling off his blood red helmet in turn, I don't appreciate that, tone, Skywalker...I'll have you know I'm not just your comedic relief, but the comedic relief of all of Karak Dorn! Another round of chuckles from the men to the young man, not more than a year older than her. He had a shock of blonde hair that was mostly standing straight up under the effect of the helmet. It was hard to tell beneath the armor, but he appeared to be skinny as a rail beneath hardened steel, yet nearly as tall as Michael. Finally, Michael's eyes turned to the last man. And this is Chris, also known as Aragorn. He's our scout, and backup archer. While he guards the camp you may sleep at ease, for he will not allow anything to approach. Chris, alone, was out of armor, wrapped in a green cloak with a soft leather shell surrounding what appeared to be blackened chain mail...lighter than the Lorica that the others wore, and quieter, though not as protective. His long brown hair was pulled back in a pony tail, and he merely nodded serenely at her as he was introduced. And I'm Michael, though these gits often refer to me as Skywalker. Apparently I'm lucky, according to them, and a good thing for you. We weren't due to come this way but I made the decision to turn aside and head this way for a time on a hunch. Now, if you accompany us you'll be pledging yourself to me. Have you ever heard of Karak Dorn's procedure for new citizens? He figured that she had. Everyone had, hadn't they? That's more like it