Post by The Gourmand on Dec 24, 2018 4:32:00 GMT
!!DATE PENDING!!
(Closed to Dawnseekers to start, will open up to Blackbloods later)
The mission was only to last a few days. The Dawnseeker scouts were sent South in order to establish a new outpost and expand territory and resources. Sent along with them were several regular soldiers, as well as the odd higher ranking member, merely to ensure the less combat-inclined explorers had backup should they stumble upon a bad situation. It was a relatively small and uncertain mission, but it was one small step toward making the Dawnseekers a formidable force again.
The Gourmand, though a figure of authority, hadn’t really taken to thinking the mission was under his command, only giving sparse orders punctuated by long periods of silence. It wasn’t that he was entirely uninvested -- he just seemed content to observe. In truth, he mostly elected to come along because he wanted some distance from the main camp.
The merman had been having his doubts lately. Not so much of the army’s competence, though that remained to be a near constant. No. The Gourmand questioned why he was even there in the first place. What stakes did he have? He was only unceremoniously flung upon the Freedom Fighter’s doorstep. The only reason he was there was because the fools were too stupid and yellow to slay what was obviously an evil, irredeemable monster. While the Gourmand would much more eagerly call himself a Dawnseeker than he ever would have called himself a Freedom Fighter, he still felt like the black sheep of the army. Just like Atlantica. Back with his Horde, he felt at home -- they viewed him as a monster, but with them, being a monster was something to be proud of… you were the monster who terrorized those who wronged you and, in a way, that made you a mighty hero. What certainly helped was that the Gourmand had all but raised at least half his Horde himself. But with the Dawnseekers?
It was clear by the distant expression on his face, the Gourmand was having reservations. While the majority of the party quested onward through the pine tree forests near the rocky coast, his pod chugged along dead last in line. Through the trees, he could see and hear the rush of the waves to his side. The commanding officer turned his head to look toward the ocean for a precarious amount of time. The Gourmand seemed oblivious to the clear meadow on the next hilltop that seemed like an ideal spot to set up camp.