Mortal Potential - Cormick Thale

Mortal Potential - Cormick Thale

“..and Knight-Lieutenants Ilinore and Teris, you both will be granted a platoon of 50 riders. Elinore, you will take them Northeast; Teris, Northwest. I want you both to skirt along the border seein’ if you come into contact with any other groups and assist them as you find them. Likewise, I want a full report when you both get back on potential stagin’ grounds. These temporary shelters inside the borders won’t be cuttin’ it.”

The whipping of the wind about the area was something of a comfort to Cormick, even as it caused the war tent he was in to creak occasionally. The wind gave the sense that something was alive in this place, even if that was but a comforting lie. Miles and miles of desolation in all directions, and as far as the eye could see, the noxious sensation of death a constant reminder to the forces of Fort Ragathiel that they were never safe.

But morale was high.

The two knights would give salutes before dismissing themselves from the tent, and many of the soldiers would seemed pleased with the meeting as Cormick gave them permission to dismiss. Along the table were maps, detailing plotted out different areas that had been discovered over the years from brave adventurers. While slim, it provided some amount of predictability to what the groups of soldiers he sent could expect.

All the same it was trying. Difficult even. The undead would emerge from the woodwork, from the dunes. Ethereal, physical, and some abominable combinations in between, it was a blessed thing indeed that this environment was where Fort Ragathiel’s sons and daughters thrived in. If anything, the notion of a war was something that didn’t require much galvanizing.

This was a moment that many of them had waited for. Perhaps even craved. A righteous justification for their existence on the map.

A chance to prove themselves in the crucible of war for which their General exalted in.

But Cormick, as he stared at the map, the tent slowly emptying of soldiers as they were sent to their tasks, had long realized the lives that would be lost in this horrible place. It was just a matter of being tactical, and being capable of responding to things in an appropriate time.

He would be left with silence as the last soldier left the room. He would raise a hand up to his head, his brows furrowing as he felt a headache come over his skull. They had been getting worse and worse recently. Every day he lingered in this place, and he didn’t know why.

Maybe the stress he thought. It’s probably just the stress.