-ShantyTown, A Few Hours Later-<br/><br/>The march of a Legion -even a mere Century- is an impressive thing. Seemingly endless ranks of shiny, over-polished, faceless automatons grinding across the landscape in a rhythmic tide do much to bolster even the most despairing of countryfolk. The bright spears and mirror breastplates, the sigils and emblems enameled across everything wide enough to hold a crest, all speak to the power and discipline of an empire. They whisper of a shield that cannot be broken, of a sword that will never be shattered. The Legion invokes a call to glory, a rallying cry for all the brave and true.<br/><br/>XIV is a sad mockery of this ideal.<br/><br/>Outcasts of all stripes formed the 100 troops of Scripio's Century, a grim and shabby parody of boyhood dreams. Ill supplied and generally considered as cannon fodder, the standard of cleanliness and equipment maintenance was abysmally low in the Damned XIV with many legionaries sporting full-blown Methuselahian  beards. Their superiors were generally the lazy or the incompetent, the Legion having devolved into the catchall of undesirables long ago. Where the 'true' Legions were paragons of virtue, the XIV was rife with vice. Where the Legions were ordered and disciplined, the XIV was lax and sloppy. Where the Legions where legends, the XIV was infamous.<br/><br/>Scripio's 100 men, at least, had shucked some of smaller details of fallen ideal; the righteous paladin had quickly established himself as a competent executive officer and a ridged disciplinarian. Under his command, the soldiers had quickly learned to shape up or ship out, although where those who shipped out went to was a matter of hot debate among the dissenters. Some theorized that they were sent to scout the deep tunnels, from which no one ever returned. Some postulated that those who couldn't make the cut were traded among the rest of XIV for more promising recruits. A few whispered that Absalom was given free reign over those found unworthy.<br/><br/>That rumor quickly set men on edge. Their quartermaster was an unnerving individual, and the men quickly learned to care well for their equipment rather than risk venturing into his lair for replacements. He had a feel of the grave about him, and rumors abounded as to the nature of magic he practiced. All legionaries swore an oath to serve even in death, and the skull mask Absalom oft times wore sent a nugget of fear spiraling down the spine of Scripio's troops.<br/><br/>That fear was one of the main reasons Absalom now marched at the rear of their ragged column; all knew his abyssal eyes danced across their backs, ever vigilant for mistakes, and no man had a way to know when the skeleton was watching him. They marched through the rough-shod streets of Shanty Town in the manner of those who were relearning old lessons; not quite in step or properly executed, but passable. Their gear did not gleam, but neither did it reek or sparkle with the sheen of rot that it had when he and Titus had first laid eyes upon their Century.<br/><br/>Absalom's permanent grin twitched with genuine pleasure at the thought of the progress his commander had wrought. Events at the academy had left Absalom bound by Imperial Geas to serve the XIV, but he had been saved by his final spark of luck in that he now served his only true friend in this world, and one of the only beings still living whom he respected.  The paladin strode at the head of the column, his soul's light burning bright amidst the squalor of Talarum's outskirts. Absalom's Deathsight showed him much of the world's harsh truths, but the glow his friend cast eased some of the pressure he felt from the blights pressing in all around them. Too much death had been felt here, too many lives snuffed out. Too many unquiet souls lingered near the veil, pressing against the barrier of this world and the spirit world like a empyrean fist. Absalom felt a deep hunger to reach for those souls, to send them on or draw them back, but for now he resisted.<br/>Until Titus gave orders otherwise, the skeleton's necromancy was kept on a short leash.