(East side of Everbridge) You Sir, are an Idiot. (11th Board)

“Aye, aye, he’s here!” chirped Hone, feeling even more pleased with her surprise now Zeal had made such a good response to it. Ooh, it was always so much better when someone was properly surprised! It wasn’t even like she was joking either- he was right back at the Everbridge, all shiny and prince-like and just how Hone had always imagined him to be. She swished her tail back and forth in pleasure at Zeal’s praise, accidentally side-swiping one of the men standing next to her with a bit of a thump. “Oops, sorry.”

“Mmm, tha’ sounds like a geet good plan Zeal! He was real nice too, didn’t say nothin’ about me bein’ so dirty an’ muddy an’ all. I think he liked me!” She couldn’t hide the proud grin on her face, showing all her white teeth. As the rest of her patrol readied themselves and their cart, she bounced around, being of no use at all, and generally doing what she did best- be peppy and in-the-way. It was her moment in the spotlight, and she wasn’t going to let them down!
If only she had thought to note down which way she had come back to the Elites from the Everplains. But… it was her chance to shine! Zeal couldn’t know… she just decided to try and lead them back to the Everbridge anyway, hoping she would pick the right direction. If that failed, then maybe they had left some muddy footprints to follow?

==X==

Wirran was old, but he knew his way around horses well, which was why he had been put in charge of the little group of cavalry that Armeno had managed to scrounge together after the battle at Racksom. Although, he had to despair at the recruits that they had- were these really the best riders that Racksom had had to offer? Honestly, he had seen better farmboys ride their father’s cart-horses than this motley group. Of course, there were a couple who showed promise, but that was by no means all of them, and there was a helluva lot of work he had to do.

“No no, you don’t drag the poor beast around, you guide him!” This was getting ridiculous, he needed more than just him to teach these men! Seeing a potential recruit lingering on the edge of his little area he had taken for teaching his “students”, he beckoned over to him, waving one hand.
“Hey, you there! Know anything about horses?”
((Wirran is an NPC just so Kat has someone to react to, he'll be disappearing off later on again )

Lena had been doing her own thing, keeping an eye on the people in the area when she first took notice of the fight breaking out between the boys. "Honestly?!" She said under her breath, angry now that they had been so quick to call the little spat between her and the elf 'childish'. She watched the fight is near amusement as they scuffled around in the mud, losing their shirts. She was a little surprised when it ended suddenly and wanted to laugh at how serious they sounded despite how they looked. She knew Talos was tired and this couldn't have helped one bit. Sighing gently, Lena pulled her water pack from her waist and walked over to Talos holding out for him to take it if he so wished. She knew they didn't want anyone around because it kept getting chaotic with so many voices but she wasn't about to stop herself from helping Talos. She fought besides Talos, AND Atleon countless times and if her mere presence is going to disturb their little man talk well then damn them. Out of no where she was edgy, and upset feeling like she wanted to cry. She had to be tired.

Wirran huffed- another useless boy who thought he would make a good soldier, when all he was really good for was shovelling muck in a stable. Well, he couldn't rightly deny the boy- no doubt Armeno would catch him turning him down, and then who knew what sort of arguement would ensue. He didn't mind arguing, mind- it just took up valuable time he could be spending training those already under his wing, or taking a precious moment to relax. That was something he hadn't had the chance to do in a while!
"Well, I suppose it won't hurt to train you as well, we have a couple of extra horses," said the man gruffly, stepping briskly over to a nearby horse- a light chestnut gelding, pelt a strange mix of lights and dark shades of brown, and mane and tail tufty short. "This one's a bit unruly, but he's not too bad." Wirran hadn't given the horse out first time, because he wasn't sure any of the other riders could cope with anything more feisty than a placid cob. He led it over to where Jackdaww was standing, holding it's head still and waiting for him to mount up.
"It's easier to teach you in the saddle," he said, motioning with his head. "Up you get, I don't have time for dallying around."

It was good that Jackdaww had made it into the saddle, and not had to ask for help, but Wirran still didn’t think there was much hope for this new recruit of his. He had hardly managed to mount the horse! Ah, he thought resignedly, don’t judge a book by it’s cover? At least he had managed to work out which way was forwards- one of his recruits had been so hopeless, the first time he had been horseback, he ended up backwards! His fellow students had thought it funny, but Wirran just despaired.
He called over another of his students, allowing them to dismount and sending them off in great relief so he could use their horse. It was a quieter beast, but that didn't mean Wirran was going to give it over to Jackdaww; the man looked quite... incompetent, in some respects, but he didn't want to give him too much of an easy ride. It was better for him to learn with a harder mount while they were in relative safety, rather than wait until what could potentially be another battle, and get himself killed due to Wirran's laxness. The older man's mounting was the complete opposite to Jackdaww’s scrabble onto his own horse, easily settling down in the saddle and taking up the reins with great familiarly.
“Tap your heels against Camar’s sides to make him walk forwards. That’s the horse’s name, Camar. Mine’s Wirran. You are?” He let the question hang, guiding his horse across to Jackdaww’s side so if the man somehow managed to get out of control, he could at least try and help. "Try it, nice and slowly now. We can build it up in a moment to a trot, if you're proficient enough." Wirran hoped he would be; it was depressing to have so many students, but none of them moving forwards.

((Lengthened this out a bit so you had some more to work with Kat, because I wasn't happy with it. Apparently the essay yesterday sucked my muse off this guy >.< Anyway, this is a bit better! :3))

"Thank you." He murmured quietly to Lena so as not to disturb Atleon or Armeno while they were talking. He took the water she offered and gulped a mouthful, rinsing out the blood and mud that had gotten into his mouth while the Prince spoke. He had just spit the dirty water on the ground when Atleon mentioned destroying the bridge, which was probably a good thing because otherwise he probably would have sputtered it all over himself in shock. He didn't even care that he was gaping. "D-d-destory the Everbridge?" It took something of an effort to close his mouth, staring openly at the prince and the elf. He glanced to the bridge over his shoulder trying to imagine it gone. "Isn't it s'posed to last for… yanno… ever? I didn't think it could be destroyed. That bridge 'is been in folklore 'bout as long as the Guardians 'ave. If it ain't come down by now… An' how d'you plan on doin' it, anyway? I don't… well, I ain't an architect. I suppose we could ask who we've got on hand if they know anythin' 'bout ancient bridges."

*~*~*

Why in the name of the Guardians had she ever thought that allowing Hone to lead the way was a good idea? They had passed the same track of muddy forest at least three times before Zeal finally became frustrated enough to take matters into her own claws. Honestly, she should have known better, and she had berated herself over and over again silently after spotting the camp by taking flight and then leading her Elites and the farmer mob in the right direction. The rain was finally letting up a bit, which was good because everybody was completely soaked and splattered in mud already, adding to the misery.

A few minuets later and their caravan emerged into the clearing that the survivors of Racksom had settled. She took in the sight, noting the general cloud of gloom and doom hanging over the encampment and a general shuffling of bodies that indicated they had no real direction or purpose. However, as soon as they were spotted a cry of alarm when up. A small crowd gathered around them, meeting with the small group that had come with Hone initially and sort of milled around, some staring hopefully or with awe while others glared with obvious mistrust or even hatred. Zeal's blood ran cold at the sight of the people looking at her this way. The very citizens that she had sworn to protect looking upon her with such obvious ambivalence stung her heart. What had happened at Racksom to make them turn out this way?

"Greetings, I'm am Elite Patrol Leader Zeal. Can you please direct me to whoever is in charge, or else their proxy? I would like to be informed of the current situation before deciding what to do with my people." She gestured vaguely to the collection of armored humans and dragons following along in her wake.

The mob looked at each other in confusion for a while, none seeming to want to come forward and her heart sank lower. They didn't even know their chain of command. Before she could speak and try to sort out the mess herself, one man clutching a wooden handle that had a strip of wicked metal bolted and tied onto the end in a crude spear came forward. "Dunno if they'll talk to you, but come this way."

The sea of bodies parted as the man lead the way, watching with mixed expressions as the Elites made their way forward. As they walked Zeal noticed flags hung from the tree boughs with the royal colors. What did that mean? Was an envoy of the royal family here? Had someone come to collect the prince? They stopped a little distance away from a group of three men who looked like they'd seen better days, covered in mud like it was their business to do so. In that state, she couldn't have recognized the prince even if she tried, and so was unaware that the hedgehog dragon bowing his head near one of the mud-men was doing so because it was the man he'd come to collect. Standing straight, Zeal patiently waited to be recognized. Obviously the three were having some kind of conversation, and if they were the leaders, then she would follow military etiquette and wait her turn before rudely barging in.

Hone had thought she knew where she was going, she really did, but unfortunately her recollection of the route she had taken to the Everbridge had been forgotten. Darn those delicious musings of chocolate digestives! Even when she didn’t have any, and didn’t have any hope of getting any either, they still somehow managed to land her in trouble. No doubt Zeal would have something to say to her later in the day… that would be annoying, especially as they would be at the Everbridge by that time, and there would be so many new people for Hone to meet, and help!

She kept quiet as they finally got into the camp, trying to balance her conflicting thoughts of, “let’s go and meet new people!” and “they weren’t very nice last time, and Zeal might tell me off”, and not feel too disappointed by having to sacrifice one for the other. The circle of humans they were surrounded by didn’t seem too pleased to see them again though, and she opted for the second choice, smiling widely at the people nearest to her, but otherwise keeping to herself, playing with her claws and picking the mud out from under her claws. She started up jigging on the spot too as she got bored of waiting, probably looking mad from the strange dance she was doing.

They didn’t seem to get any closer to any resolution as they moved closer to the Prince and his companions; Hone was mildly interested by the banners that had appeared around the camp (she hadn’t taken the prince for one to be so blatant with the fact that he was here, and less so that it was more important to decorate the camp with his sigil in place of helping the people, but now the evidence said otherwise). What she was surprised about though was the fact that what had been the prince before… well, now he was coated in mud!
So maybe he wasn’t “all shiny and prince-like” any more, like she had described Atleon to herself in her head… And he looked really busy too. Zeal might have wanted to talk to him, and the others too, but Hone didn’t want to hang around for that long.

She sidled up to the big red rock dragon, staring intently up at her for a moment before speaking.
“Zeal, I’m bored, an’ there’s lots t’do here. We’ll gar an’ start fixin’ up t’camp, helpin’ t’people an’ all that like. They don’t look too happy, an’ they didn’t like me las’ time. If we gar an’ help, then they might be more nice, yeah?” She raised her voice and turned to the rest of her patrol. She knew it wasn’t her place, but when orders didn’t match up to the thing that was right, she was always going to ignore the orders.
Anyway, Zeal hadn’t specified for her to be quiet and hang around.
“Come on gang, let’s gar an’ help all these people!” she cried, fluttering her wings, spraying mud all over the place and shooing her friends and companions off in the way of hard work and usefulness. And of course, following after with all the excitement of a baby dragon.

((Exit the Elites!))

“Camar, Wirran…” he repeated under his breath, committing the two names to memory. His father had taught him to do that – ‘The best way to remember is to speak aloud – it engages the mind’ had been his exact words. Jackdaww quickly blanked out the memory, not wanting to get sidetracked just yet, and bowed as well as he could from the saddle without falling out. “My name is Jackdaww.” He said, wobbling a little and gripping on to Camar with his knees to stop himself slipping. Only once he’d tightened his grip did he realise that this felt more natural, and kept some of the tension there, hoping he was doing the right thing.

Jackdaww raised an eyebrow, unsure how effectively kicking the horse would persuade it to do as he said, but did as Wirran instructed. Camar snorted, and batted his ears, before lurching forward a couple of steps, and stopping. Jackdaww groaned, digging his heel into the horse’s sides again, before looking at Wirran helplessly. He opened his mouth to ask for help when his mount seemed to have a change of heart, and started to walk. Jackdaww’s jaw dropped open, and he sat uncertainly on the horse, squeezing his sides lightly. That /had/ to be good, right?

Jackdaww was basking in this minor success when Camar twitched again, however, and the saddle felt like it was slipping away from underneath him. The horse’s little twitch landed Jackdaww face-first in the mud to his left, where he landed with a loud slapping noise. “Urgh, that wasn’t supposed to happen…” he groaned, sitting up and wiping some mud out of his eyes. His head hurt, but he had certainly achieved /something/. Maybe they’d make a horseman out of him yet, although he had to admit that the infantry sounded a lot more promising from where he was sitting…

(can act as a sort of fade-to-black exit for him if no other replies)