Ser Katharine Anholde kept silent as her new guests introduced themselves, showing no real intention to speak over them as well as offering an ear to their names. All that seemed to bother her right now was the constant and demanding urgency to prepare Greenvale for the inevitable, which had continuously clawed at her mind over the past few days. It took little observational skills for Katharine to notice the discomfort from both Lyle and Aure, they may as well have just confessed that Jerry forced them here and it wasn't as if these were the first people that Jerry had dragged to her feet. The Mayor had once had the same look in his eyes, gleaming brightly has he had brought a surface dwarf to her at one time, despite the plea of the dwarf that he was once from what he called the "Smiths caste" and no fighter. To Jerry, all dwarves fought. How else would they survive the constant threat of the Darkspawn down below? The Dwarf had soon fled that day and came back as a severed head the day after. As much as he thought he was helping, the mayor was doing her no favours in making her look like the blessed Andraste herself in front of all these people, why doesn't the man drag them to Jaerons feet instead? The Knight Commander here in Greenvale would no doubt be able to make use of them.<br/><br/>With a slight bow of her head, she opted to show a casual level of respect despite the lack of commitment coming from Lyle and Auresilea. If they were to actually defend Greenvale however, at least they looked ready and able for it. She spoke as if the phase was certainly practiced, the words seem to lack the emotion they should have held but stern enough to mantain that level of professionalism "The bandits have surrounded this town, no-one can enter or leave. I suggest if you want to survive this ordeal, then you better make yourself useful." She paused, staring at the Mayor who seemed to have responded with  a flicker of light concern in turn, but Katharine growled her words, as if the words themselves were carving themselves into stone "You have better things to do than to herd more recruits, Jerry." Firmness was needed with the man, he was too used to getting his own way and it was never the right path to tread, especially when his people might not see another day after this one.<br/><br/>The mayor gritted his teeth and his shoulders soon slouched, chewing on the words he once wanted to spit at Ser Katharine but instead bowing his head in appriecation with a faint look of understanding etched across his face "Ser Katharine, I will do what you ask" His face soon twisted but she could see he was turning curious thoughts in his head, a persistant stare made sure not to draw out another response from him, to keep his thoughts to himself. The Mayor merely mumbled obidently as soon as the pressure of her gaze settled nicely to make her point, turning towards the crowd and the crowd soon fell silent at his approach. He drew more eyes than she did in seconds, more than it took for her to accomplish in the past hour! They certainly seemed more keen to listen now. These people were way too stubborn for their own good, why was she risking her neck for these people?<br/><br/>Her eyes narrowed back over the three guests near her podium, showing no real emotion once more as she speaks, a commanding tone soaked her words. She was getting too used to talking like this now "If you need to prepare, do so. When the sun sets, they will storm this town and seek to claim it and they will kill or enslave whoever seeks to protect this forsaken town. If you wish to survive, you will stay here and fight with the masses. In essence, If you want to fight -with- us, you will  protect the southern part of this town with Jaeron, He is the Knight Commander of this province and he will be commanding a few Templars and half the militia to fight off the southern forces. All in all, May the maker watch over you" With a heavy sigh she took in a deep breath, a clenched fist to her chest and bowing lightly towards them before turning to take her place beside Jerry. A slight turn of her head acknowledged them once more, speaking more flatly than before. "A fair warning: The maker forsakes those who attempts to flee this town. It has been proven time and time again. The bandits will claim you as the Maker turns a blind eye to a cowards fate, all the men that have fled have come back to us without a body to go with the head that has been booted back into Greenvale. For the women? well... I've yet to see any female heads, but judging from the blood stained clothes they like to leave outside our doorstep, I wouldn't recommend trying it either"<br/><br/>-----<br/>The masses of bandits thronged the southern bandit camp as they began to gather and prepare. A mixture of laughter and heavy cheering sailed through the air, most already under the impression that they have already won, either that or perhaps it being one of the only times they can cheer and boast with Argin slumped lazily in his makeshift throne within the largest tent of the camp, a single elbow grinding against a rotten armrest with feet planted firmly upon a ragged bear rug as he sat within his -royal- tent. Fading Light streamed through the entryway into his tent, the heavy leathery hides that would usually serve to grant him his privacy being tied to one side to grant Argin the view of the setting sun. It was soon time.<br/><br/>"You should start preparing as well."  A strong, seductive and feminine voice hit Argin, but it was a voice that was soon silenced with a single large hand being raised, a brutal gaze locking itself upon the heavily veiled woman, whom in turn offered the same stare as he then dragged the leathery sheathed Tevinter blade along with him, which had been sitting happily on other side of the creaking throne. His hand had never unclenched around its hilt. Despite how Argin tried to hate the woman, as her ordering him around was a good enough reason to kill he, his gut always stirred while he was around her and no matter what rebellious thought struck him, she always spoke true for him to reluctantly agree. "Have our soddin' -warnings- served their purpose? I do not want any bloody interference coming from beyond the given soddin' perimeter." Argin grinned knowingly, and cruelly, gripping the hilt of his two handed claymore more tightly as the blade found itself expertly nestled against his back and soon began idlely going through the appropriate buckles to ensure its secure positioning. The shady figure found herself staring up at the man as he erected from his seat, he always thought himself as a terrifying sight for many, how can anyone not feel any fear when seeing such a man like himself bearing down on his chosen prey with murder burning in his eyes? Size and appearance is probably one of the major reasons why he was able to keep such control over this rabble anyway, that and killing anyone that questioned him. It was always a failsafe and it worked everytime. His rule was absolute.<br/><br/>"They have. With the disappearance of the Bann and with no sign of his army, Greenvale will be yours, as promised." Her tone was casual, moving towards Argin to assist with a few extra buckles before snaking her arms around his waist in a tight embrace.The man seemed not to mind, despite how no-one could tame his primal fury, a simple embrace from this woman felt like a drug to him, even at the sight of her deathly pale yet smooth skin seemed to leave him breathless at times. He reveled in the moment without wanting to feel suspicious, her voice however did not stop as she continued to hold him "Kill everyone... Their blood must stain this land... the branded must bleed."<br/><br/>The branded? Argin dismissed the words from his head. Their deaths were guaranteed, no question about that... but the urge to obey seemed to apply itself in heavy loads, and any forms of resisting seemed to feel as hopeless as fighting back a thick poisonous fog with a dead twig. But why did he find himself not caring?<br/><br/>"That was the soddin' plan.... mistress..." He mumbled surprisingly softly, a hazy and sedated stare fell upon her and she did not flinch, only smiling to his expression "That is a good pet... Oh, and I know about those two Dalish Elves you've taken. What do you plan to do with them?" A tinted curiousity stained her voice, cocking her head to one side but her fingers now began to play through his thick leather armour to touch the hardened and scarred flesh of his abdomen, the contact of her skin against his own seemed to feel like ecstasy, why? why!<br/><br/>"We bloody need them for the blades of the soddin' Dalish Elf. He is bloody skilled." A devilish and dark smirk crawled onto his lips, the predatory stare in his eyes returning and cast down at the veiled woman "I've soddin' hand chosen five of my best men to keep him soddin' -company- until we've dealt with the bloody pests within Greenvale. He can bloody well kill a couple of my -straight from the teet- men, but there are only so many soddin' throats he can slit before a soddin' blade strikes him, and these are -my- bloody chosen. I soddin' well know they will survive and kill him. As for the Dalish women? Kill them now or soddin' sell them on, do what you bloody want with them" Why am I giving her control? I make my own decisions!<br/><br/>"Mmm.. I will think on it... but run along now, pet. It's time to play" As simply as she grappled the titan of a man, she withdrew from him and the feeling that was left over made him feel like a lifeless husk, but he merely grunted in turn and stormed outside, greeted by the settling sun as he was bathed in an orange light. "Men! Get your soddin' acts together! Greenvale is bloody ours!"<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>Jaeron watched helplessly in front of his militia, watching the sun gradually settle amongst the heavy forests to the north. It was the time they had all been dreading, everyone but perhaps himself and his Templars. The priests and ley-sisters of the chantry walked amongst the militia as they spoke the chant of light between them, incense pouring from wavering holy censors. Through it, Jaeron knew their sins would be cleansed if they were to fall this day. The Templars were not preachers, their status and armour could not reassure a man he knew could not protect him wholly, the maker and the mans faith would grant him that protection, if the maker wills it.<br/><br/>"The Maker protect us..." The murmur came from his two Brother Templars who stood at each side of him, Brother Fransci and Brother Ryras. In turn, he bowed his head and uttered "How are the defenses?".<br/><br/>Brother Francsi looked in Jaerons direction, frowning for a moment before speaking in almost the same tone as would a commander would his troops, whilst all the time juggling the weight of the heavy shield in one arm which bore the mark of the Sword of Mercy. "Brother Vros, Brother Siraf and Brother Rrajar have opted to protect the chantry with a handful of militia, just in case any skirmishers were to make it through our lines. In turn, they will rally any mililtia who had fallen back at the center of town, which where the chantry is located." Jaeron nodded in agreement before speaking up "It was a wise choice. Vros and Rrajar work very well together, They are the best in hunting down apostates so they know how to get the job done. Siraf also listens to them, although sometimes he does think he runs the chantry sometimes." The man chuckled softly, rolling his eyes before Ryras jumped in with a snide comment "Have you ever seen Brother Siraf and Priestess Anahsa argue? As pretty as Priestess Anasha is, she never seems to stand down from a fight. Everyone always takes a step back whenever they are in the sam---" Ryras paused, the reminscience coming to a complete halt as a firm grip sat on Ryras' shoulder. Ryras didn't know it, but his sword arm shook as if the weight of his weapon was too much for him. Jaerons fatherly tone kicked in "We'll survive this day."<br/><br/>The moment lingered before Francsi spoke up once more "...With the center secure, the bandits can only hoard their masses to the north and south. We already have garrisons on the roofs acting as watchout and to protect any archers from any form of melee." Francsi paused and Jaeron continued in his place "Ser Katharine and Mayor Wedstone are to the north, managing half our militia. It is a shame that we could not erect even more fortifications. With so little time, especially with the panic and organisation troubles we've been having, we've instead taken every wagon and carriage to serve as barriers against the horde. "<br/><br/>"They will have to do" Both the men said, and Jaeron regrettably nodded.<br/><br/>Thundering sounds... screaming men... bright lights in the form of torches began to form in the distance. There were hundreds of men beginning to appear in the distance. Hundreds of running men who became louder and louder on their approach.<br/><br/>Dusk...<br/><br/>Blades were noticably being flailed like toys in the air as the murderous scum screamed frenzied battlecries whilst they charged mercilessly over the open ground. The dire sight shook the resolve of the militia straight away, and a loud and authoritive bellow came from him almost instinctively "Steel yourselves, the Maker is with us this day! We will not fall to the scum of Thedas!" A loud cheer reassured Jaeron as he drew his sword and shield, the shield baring the very symbol of the Templar Order. The Sword of Mercy. It will be the symbol that Jaeron had full intent into beating into these men, even if he was to die doing so.<br/><br/>"For our families! For our lives! The Maker will see us through this day!"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>