This choice: Meet up with your squad. • Go Back... As you briskly walk towards the training grounds to meet up with your squad, you can’t help but feel as though something was out of place this day. The arrival of the elves only serves to extend this feeling of uneasiness as you return to your usual duties. While you continue to ponder on this thought, you enter the training ground, essentially a farm modified to basic fitness and combat practice needs.
You look upon your squad as they idle around in front of the fitness track, for some reason incapable of starting it themselves. “What the hell is the hold-up?” you ask them, stopping right before Lieutenant Crita approaches you, pulling you off to the side, away from your squad mates. “A few soldiers were overheard saying something about a party of female elves wandering through the camp a second ago. Is it true?” Crita queries, his personality relaxing itself away from the prying eyes of your squad. “Yes.. five of them. Four escorts, all protecting an elf in the middle. Looked like rangers.” You reply, still trying to figure out why the elves had come here in the first place. “She must’ve been a VIP. Were they-” Crita prods further, to which you push him out of the conversation. “That’s enough, Lieutenant. We’ll let the Field Marshal handle whatever those elves were sent here to do.” You state, as Crita sighs disappointedly. “Let’s just get to work, shall we?”
Just as you’re about to begin the training session, a messenger from your Field Marshal flags you down. You glance over to him, casually waving your squad off to begin. The messenger rushes over to you, breathing heavily. “Captain, Field Marshal Grim has sent word of our new assignments.” The messenger says, bluntly handing you a letter. “Right.. off with you, then.” You say, shooing the messenger back to the Field Marshal.
You open the letter and begin reading it’s contents:
“Foreign Headquarters
Department of the Army
21st Armored Corps
Effective immediately, active personnel in the 21st Armored Corps will assemble and prepare for battle. All combat group leaders are now required to report to Field Marshal Loren Grim for orders regarding near future combat deployment. The next officer’s meeting will adjourn at 18:00 hours to assign designated combat roles.”
You manage to let off a sigh before instinctively reaching for something in your pocket. You pause, quickly withdrawing your hand from the pocket. “No… I’m done with that.” You say, quickly gathering your squad and relaying the news. As you imagine, the squad grows restless under the thought that they’ll be under your command. Lieutenant Crita steps out and calms the squad down, giving you a short nod afterward.
After a short respite from the training, you dismiss the squad and have them return to their tents to prepare, while you and Lieutenant Crita trot along to the war chamber, otherwise known as a larger tent. As you enter the tent, Crita close behind you, you’re immediately greeted by the sight of dozens of young officers in the war chamber, all of whom gather and stand around a large, round strategic table in the center of the tent. Among the gathered officers, are the armed high elf escorts you had seen earlier in the day, taking up positions at the entrances and exits of the room, simply acting as if they were but guards now. You follow suit and take a place standing at the table. Field Marshal Grim finally shows himself, with that same mysterious elf from earlier in the day. “Hello, officers. I’ll make this quick, because we’ll be departing first thing in the morning.” the Field Marshal says, picking up a small series of papers from the planning table. “It has come to our attention that a large Orcish war party has infiltrated southern Quel’Thalas. The high elves have seen fit to request our assistance in dealing with these orcs, and assistance they shall receive.” Grim states, beginning to diagnose the plan of attack and immediate strategy of intercepting the orcs.
Your vision eventually fades from the actual battle plans, realizing everything would fall into place when we were close to the interception point. Instead, your eyes veer up to the beautiful cloaked elf standing behind Field Marshal Grim, carefully watching the battle map as the Field Marshal goes over every slightest bit of detail regarding the lead-up to the large battle expected to take place. You can’t help but watch the elf’s eyes dimly glow, as she memorizes every step of the plan. The cloak she wore concealed her shimmering blonde hair, adding that strange layer of mystery to the woman. Field Marshal Grim soon begins pointing at various officers, all the while you continue to watch the elf, somehow captivated by her beauty. “Who in the world is she?” you ask yourself. Just then she looks up at you, her dimly lit eyes looking straight at you. You blink, and immediately realize Field Marshal Grim is now pointing at you. “Crap..” you think, as several of the nearby officers glare at you angrily. “Captain, you’ll be the third battle group accompanying the Ranger-General.” Grim says, his words ringing out in your head. “That’s all, officers. Take your squads and prepare for the march. We leave at 06:00.” The Field Marshal states, his authority ringing true as he exits the tent, followed by most of the officers. You turn to Lieutenant Crita, who appears rather pleased with the orders, and then back to this supposed Ranger-General. Getting mobbed by several of the bolder officers, she merely hangs around and speaks with the first two of her vanguard battle groups. As you leave the tent, dragging your Lieutenant with you, the elf looks past the group and watches you leave before being distracted by the other officers pushing to speak with her.
“What luck. We get to hang around the women? I don’t see how this could get any better.” Lieutenant Crita says, blissfully unaware of the dangers. “This is certainly a morale boost. Should I inform the squad, sir?”
“It’s time for sleep, Lieutenant. We’ll tell them in the morning.” You say, clearly unexcited. As the Lieutenant splits off into his tent, you head into yours and crash down onto the pile of hay you call a bed. Not even bothering to remove your work attire, you close your eyes and continue to question whether or not you’re fit to lead these good men, your squad, to their deaths. As if that wasn’t enough, now you’ve been tasked with safeguarding the Ranger-General. Unable to imagine the harsh responsibility forced upon yourself, you reach down into your pocket and take out a small bag of pills. Staring at it for a second, you toss the bag aside and hit the canvas. “What the hell am I doing here..”
You have the following choice: 1. Sleep. |
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