An Adventure of Unorthodox Proportions - IC [Closed]

[Dio]

Cutlass turned to Novaya. "So. We have equipment and intel. However little of the latter is available anyway. My vote goes to making a bit of distance out of here if we're not taking a night at the inn for planning. Immediate and direct travel without rest, as it is, would be kind of awkward as well, seeing as we all only just met... with all due respect of course."

"Ja, we should try to be covering some ground,” the Germanean quipped. “I would not mind a planning session to be determining strategy. If we rest a bit beforehoof, I can be getting ready to go long distance on my bad leg. Would be making things easier, Ja? We must be getting to know each other before we fight together."

“Then it is agreed. Back to the inn we go,” Novaya smiled. “It would be better for us to depart tomorrow when we have rested. We can travel by morning and venture into the town itself in afternoon. Sound good, da?”

The sergeant major turned back towards the center of town, head held high and whistling the beginning of a cheery Stallian tune. “Besides, I could go for another round of drinks while we wait for daybreak!”

******

“...and we still need to find you a proper set of saddlebags for journey ahead!” Novaya laughed, loudly clapping Radiant Steel on the back with a hoof. “Where in all that armor did you plan on putting canteens, medical supplies, and Magya Valius’ trinkets?”

A partly filled tankard floated next to her head wreathed in the soft cornflower blue glow of her magic, the only reason it remainedbeing that she had just hammered down the last tankard. After all, there was nothing like a good brew before a mission!

The large, round table was stacked with food and drink; local barley brews, Stallian vodka, standard pony pub grub, and fresh fruit brought in from the local ports. Seats around the suspended disc of seasoned hardwood consisted of padded pillows; rough on the surface to resist wear from bar denizens, but comfortable enough for a pony to rest upon for a meal and a drink. Dim but warm lighting from faerie lanterns shed their glow upon the seating area, cordoning the booths and tables with swaths of soft shadow.

The atmosphere of The Cloven Hoof was one of content. Sailors and dock workers had just come off their shifts and store owners and mid-level bureaucrats had been off their desks for an hour or more already. Each clique seemed to have their own habitat; soldiers and sailors clustering around big circular tables, desk jockeys huddling in their corner booths, and a smattering of loners clustered at the bar waiting on drinks. The party was merely another group in the busy hubbub of a tavern at prime time.

The sergeant major was not above carousing with her command. It was her firm belief that with the right to shed blood, sweat, and tears together came the responsibility of sharing food and drink and stories together. How could you fight alongside a comrade who cared nothing for his or her fellow pony? Meal and drink did not just provide sustenance, it provided camaraderie, and in that a more cohesive fighting unit and a much greater chance of success.

Novaya had already sized up their combat prowess at Valius’ tower. Alone, each was formidable. A swordsmare, a Germanean mercenary, an REA neophyte, and a seasoned VSS soldier; each more than a match for the rabble that surely roamed the streets of Lunae. But that was unimportant. Novaya had seen former Kuznitza street rats take down much tougher foes with only their wits and loyalty to each other. Their ability to work together was far more important than individual skill. But of course, in order to know the team, the team had to know each other...

“So tell me, letchka, where are you from?” The sergeant major grinned at Radiant Steel before taking a long draught from her tankard. “Ponyville, Marelia, Canterlot?”

[RarityDash]

The party had decided upon leaving the tower to make their way to the local inn to rest the night and plan for the coming journey. This seemed quite wise to Radiant thinking about it, though if on her own she probably would have pushed ahead immediately without a second thought. She had been called brash on many occasions and even she could admit it might apply. It was a good thing the rest of the party seemed much more experienced and capable.

They had found their way to The Cloven Hoof and were now enjoying some food, drink and conversation. Radiant wasn't used to this sort of atmosphere per say. The social aspect of her life was maybe a little unfulfilled. Her comrades in the Guard rarely invited her out for drinks and she wasn't the sort to go to this kind of place on her own. The atmosphere didn't really fit her anyway, and she had yet to really acquire much of a taste for liquors or hard drinks of any sort. As she sat there, she mostly fed moderately on some of the available fruit, finding delight in its sweetness.

“...and we still need to find you a proper set of saddlebags for journey ahead! Where in all that armor did you plan on putting canteens, medical supplies, and Magya Valius’ trinkets?”

Sergeant Major Novaya suddenly slapped Radiant in the back with her hoof as she said these words, getting Radiant's full attention. The guardsmare gave a rigid nod to the superior ranked soldier, but before she could give a response, the other mare presented another question for her.

“So tell me, letchka, where are you from? Ponyville, Marelia, Canterlot?”

Radiant nodded once more before going into an immediate response. "I come from Canterlot, Sergeant Major! Born and raised there. Lived there all my life. My family has roots in both the city of Canterlot and the REA going back many generations. This is probably the furthest I've been away from the city."

"In truth it was kind of a whim for me to come out here. I heard whispers of what was happening in Lunae while traveling and thought it might be worth my time. It is no excuse, but that is the reason I am ill-prepared, sir. It was a decision made in the field without proper consideration to my own preparation," Radiant added to answer the earlier question.

After saying her piece, Radiant looked at the others for a moment. She was really starting to wonder if she'd hold these ponies back. They just seemed far more capable than her. It made her a little nervous and feel almost out of place. To keep things from getting too awkward for herself, she decided to bridge some of the gaps she perceived with a question or two of herself. Her eyes ultimately set on the stallion.

"Germaney isn't that far from Canterlot, right?" she started somewhat stiffly. "I'll meet a pony from there on occasion, but I've never been myself. How would you describe it?"

[Bannhammer]

The stop at the tavern was received warmly by the purple stallion, who had almost gone an entire day without a drink. Martel looked around, drinking in the atmosphere, it was almost like a Germane beer hall, but not quite. Too many round tables and not enough music for this place to be any good, but you had to take what you could get. 

He took his seat to the left of the small armored pony and to the right of the militant mare. The fruit was of no interest to Martel, instead his attention gravitated quickly to the selections of ales and spirits.

Without another moment's thought, he opened his saddlebag and retrieved his stein, the large, metal tankard which could hold enough booze for two large ponies. Martel slammed it on the table and barked at the nearest bar pony,

"Your cheapest ale and your strongest liquor!"

Now that the drinks were taken care of, Martel found it an appropriate time to observe the others at his table. His glance moved from pony to pony, judging each silently. Cutlass seemed to be a lover or swords, even putting one in her name, and he had a few questions for her. Smaller, and far less prepared, the greenhorn came off as simply inexperienced. The mare from Stalliongrad seemed just his type, and Martel couldn't help but give a hearty laugh.

"My hammer is made of steel, and so is my liver! Thirty bits to the best drinker at the table?" He raised his glass and erupted in a traditional Germane drinking song. His raucous, empassioned singing died down as soon as the conversation started up.

Apparently the Mädchen was from Canterlot, and while Martel had never been there, he knew that it was a beautiful city in its own right. He felt a pang of sympathy for her when she revealed exactly why she was so unprepared. That quickly passed when he recalled that she was a soldier, and there were no excuses for ineptitude. 

The purple stallion blinked a few times in surprise as she turned her attention to him. He snorted, taking a moment to ponder her question before responding.

"Ah, Mädchen, Germaney and Canterlot may be close on the map, but they are far apart in other ways!"

He waved a hoof to articulate his speech, and just then his stein, along with a glass of vodka, arrived at the table. Martel held his hoof up, signaling that a pause was required, he then grabbed the glass of vodka and chugged it all in one huge gulp.

His snout scrunched up and he exhaled loudly as he tossed the glass outside. "Ach, Brennen pinkeln!"

Martel cleared his throat with a swig of ale before turning to face radiant steel again. "Verzeih mir, Mädchen. Germaney is much different, there is no order here! If a train says that it will arrive at 8:03, here it may not come until 8:10! In my home,  ponies are on time and follow orders, here, you are rabble who do as they please! Not to be offending of course, Equestria is beautiful, with many species, Germaney is just woodland, filled with hearty ponies. It is different, very different. I am missing it sometimes, Ja?"

He rose his tankard high for another swig before slamming it onto the table, making everything else jump up an inch. He wiped stray brew from his muzzle and sighed happily. "I was told of Lunae by an ally, And I thought It could be good opportunity for adventure, and if bits are made along way, all is better!"

The armored pony nodded towards his smaller counterpart, and then slowly turned his head towards Cutlass. "What about you, Klinge Herrin? You have no insignia, and I am not thinking you are mercenary...

[Apolline Allura]

Cutlass remained mostly silent after her suggestion was taken and the party made their way to The Cloven Hoof. It certainly wasn't a bad place, though she'd reserve judgement on their selection of alcoholic beverages. They hadn't had much of the rather obscure brews she had taken to while living with Steelwalt in Canterlot, so she ordered a small bottle of cider for herself. It was a night to loosen up, but Cutlass, was actually feeling a bit more tense, and had been since they had left the tower. These ponies, though they may have all had different allegiances, all seemed to hold some sense of morality and dedication to what their positions were. While she was far from the ne'er do well she used to be when she was younger, Cutlass felt uneasy, as though she hadn't deserved to be working with them, let alone sitting with them in an inn, drinking and laughing and sharing life with one another.

Still though, it was her suggestion she do this, and remaining antisocial wouldn't be much of a way to support her own suggestion. Cutlass added a small dose of whiskey from her flask into the cider and drank deeply as her companions conversed with one another. She found herself interested by both Radiant and Martel's tales, and mostly listened with rapt attention. She believed Radiant to be full of potential, and believed as long as she was able to slow down when needed, she'd be nothing short of dependable, whether on this mission, or back home, rising through the ranks.

The Germanean, Martel, his antics amused her, and she could not stop the grin on her face when he launched into any sentence with his native land's accent. When Martel made his bet, she ante'd up.

"Thrity bits?" the mare smirked, "I'll throw in fifty. Somepony has to show you all how it's done."

She grabbed a few bottles and lined them up, taking each one down, one at a time, but slowly. She wasn't a guzzler, but she knew how to put away some drinks for sure. The effects began to take hold rather quickly, but Cutlass managed to fight down her slurred speech by biting down hard on her tongue every now and then. She had learned a long time ago to use pain to her advantage. It was an excellent way of bringing things into focus, if one didn't count the self-inflicted wounds that stayed with them.

Martel's motivations were as straightforward as he was, and that was a-okay with Cutlass. Just as trustworthy, and even better, a downright pleasant guy to be around. He turned to her when he was finished speaking his piece, and Cutlass took a deep breath. Her mind ran through a number of stories and lies before she began to speak.

"You're right. I'm neither mercenary or soldier. For now though, I'm a teammate. Nothing else. But for the sake of camraderie, I also live in Canterlot." she nodded at Radiant Steel, "And I've seen you around town a few times before. You're a hard worker. Congrats for taking a job like this. Your dad will be proud."

She took another swig of her drink and tossed the bottle behind her with unerring accuracy into a garbage receptacle. The truth was just about on it's way, and she had no more reservations at this point, with the more and more she drank.

"I've done some bad things. And without going into too much, I'm trying to make up for those things. Hence my taking this mission." she raised her next bottle before taking another swig. Taking the conversation full circle, yet knowing full well what kinds of questions she would be in for down the road, the mare turned toward Novaya once more. "And what of you, Sergeant? Are you here for glory, money, a sense of duty?"

[Dio]

"My hammer is made of steel, and so is my liver! Thirty bits to the best drinker at the table?" He raised his glass and erupted in a traditional Germane drinking song. His raucous, empassioned singing died down as soon as the conversation started up.

"Thirty bits?" Cutlass smirked, "I'll throw in fifty. Somepony has to show you all how it's done."

“You can keep your bits, both of you! You’ll need them to buy more drink!” Novaya laughed, joining in the banter. “Besides, everypony knows I could drink you both under the table!”

Novaya listened closely as each told their stories in turn. A young soldier away from home for the first time, a contractor looking to pick up a bill, and perhaps most interesting of all, a sellsword with a checkered past looking for redemption.

"...I've done some bad things. And without going into too much, I'm trying to make up for those things. Hence my taking this mission." Cutlass raised her next bottle before taking another swig.

Novaya had heard that tone of voice before. It was the same tone of voice that came from fresh recruits who’d had prior run-ins with the Stallian Guard. Kuznitza street urchins, Aquellian mercenaries, Unyasi fugitives. Some were scared, some were mean. Some were sad, others angry, others still were stoic, showing nothing at all. But they all shared one thing in common: a desire for change and the hope that they could leave their pasts behind and lead a better life in Stalliongrad.

“We have all done bad things in our lives, Sablyaska,” the sergeant major said, raising her tankard in acknowledgement. “What matters is what we do with the time we have left.”

The conversation had finally come full circle. Cutlass turned to Novaya, looking her dead in the eye as she spoke. "And what of you, Sergeant? Are you here for glory, money, a sense of duty?"

“Vacation!” Novaya sniffed not without a hint of disdain. “Forced vacation. I was up for another garrison rotation to train new recruits, but KOG tells me I have leave that must be taken by law since I have not had vacation in years. What can I say? I love my job.”

Novaya took the moment to drain a good portion of her tankard before slamming it back down on the table. “I am on paid leave already, so I have no need for more money, and I learned long ago that glory was worthless to enlisted mare. I am command sergeant major, top of enlisted ranks, and I will likely retire this way when I am too old to fight or some little criminal horseapples decides to throw me off the deck of an airship!”

“I always said I was not pretty enough for officer track!” She grinned at her own joke, even if it was at her own expense. “But really, I would much rather be in the dirt working with my squadron than looking down from on high.”

“So I suppose I am here because of duty," she continued. "I never asked to be stabled for the next month a half, so I had to find something constructive to do with myself. When I heard that there seemed to be an... infestation in Lunae, well, let’s just say my sense of adventure got the best of me.”

With that, the sergeant major hammered down the rest of her tankard, sliding it aside as she twisted the top off the closest bottle of Stallianoya. Floating an orange before her with her magic, Novaya drew her combat knife and quickly sliced it, leaving floating orange wedges hanging in front of her as she sheathed her blade. An orange slice floated to her lips. One bite and the flesh of the fruit was gone, washed down by a subsequent swig of Stallian vodka.

It was then that Novaya saw Radiant Steel gingerly picking at her fruit. The young pegasus had barely touched her drink. Now this simply wouldn’t do! Tonight was for camaraderie, for eating, drinking, and making merry! Novaya floated an orange slice up to Radiant Steel’s plate, dropping the bottle of Stallianoya right next to it so that her intent was unmistakable. The sergeant major said nothing, letting her challenge and the silly grin on her face speak for her instead.

[RarityDash]

((ooc: sorry for the delay. Didn't realize I was up. I can never remember to check this section... ))

Radiant watched the group interact and couldn't help but feeling increasingly out of place, especially as they each in turned raised the stakes in a bet of who could drink the most. They were all so open and animated. Next to Radiant, who was more than willing to admit she was a bit of a neurotic mess when it came to socializing, it just felt kind of awkward for her. She couldn't act like these three. She couldn't even pretend to act like these three.

Still, she'd try and at least make conversation with them. Easy enough; the things they said were interesting enough to her, after all. The way Martel described Germaney it sounded quite nice to her. Then there was Cutlass, who was from Canterlot herself and even seemed to know of Radiant. Last was the sergeant major, who to Rarity was worthy of all sorts of respect. She had a strength of character and described a level of dedication that Radiant could only hope to ever match. It was a little intimidating.

And then when the mare placed a bottle of some liquor before her, her level of intimidation only spiked. She was being encouraged to drink this? Should she? She didn't have a taste for this stuff. As straight-laced as she was, social drinking was in itself already so foreign to her. She stared at the bottle, unsure for a while. She laughed awkwardly and ultimately decided to look past it and speak on other matters for a moment.

"Thank you for the kind words, Miss Cutlass. They are most appreciated," she said with a nod to the swordsmare. "And you mean to say you know of my father then? I do wonder if he would truly look favorably upon me getting wrapped up in something of this nature..."

She then nodded to the lone stallion of the group and smiled. "As for you, Martel, sir, your Germaney sounds quite wonderful. Ponies in Equestria are often a touch remiss for my tastes. A little more order and timeliness could only make things function smoother and more efficiently..."

Radiant finished speaking, but the bottle was still looking her in the face. What did she even do with this? "I... er... Thank you kindly for your offering, Sergeant Major, sir!" she eventually started as she grabbed it up, determined to enjoy it.

She could do this. She could at least get it down and save face. She opened the bottle and held it to her mouth, and then suddenly threw it back to partake in its contents. Her sense were soon all overwhelmed by the strong liquor. She began to choke almost immediately, slamming the bottle down as she did. She coughed repeatedly as she near fell from her seat. Even when she had calmed down, the lingering bitterness stayed with her, making her grimace. How could ponies drink and enjoy this stuff...?

[Bannhammer]

The great, purple stallion continued to take massive gulps from his tankard as he observed the tavern around him. Things were going smoothly, and he found himself liking his comrades more and more. 

The small soldier was slowly coming around, and instead of seeing her as just another greenhorn he found himself quite enameled with the armored mare. The sergeant was still impressive, and the fact that this was her vacation drew a low whistle from the stallion as he raised his glass in a salute.

"We will be saving our bits, maybe buy you a retirement gift?"

The most intriguing of the group was definitely the swordmare. His suspicions remained, but Martel nodded solemnly as she spoke, deciding to give her a new chance after his first impressions.

"Ah, Frau, I am feeling that we all need a little redemption, maybe we can all be helping each other towards that?"

The hammer wielder placed his  namesake on the table just as Radiant Steel fell over from her seat. Out of respect, he kept his mouth shut. As she retool her place, Martel offered a hard pat on the back.

"That is why you should not be drinking Stallian drinks! They are focused on getting drunk, not on taste. In Germaney, we treat drink as something to be savored... Here, let me be showing you."

Martel slammed a hoof on the table and shouted out, "ein Kirsch Bier!"

Martel smiled contentedly and waited, soon a deep red beer was placed in front of Radiant Steel. 

"Very sweet, not strong at all, I think you will be liking it! Not like those brutish things that ponies from Stalliongrad call 'drinks'. No offense of course."

Martel continued to drink, silently observing what was going on and hoping to gather a bit more information about his allies. He finished his drink and waited for a new one, always dreading the time in between beers. Once the table had settled down a bit, he let out a low sigh and rested his forelegs on the table.

"Kameraden, I am understanding if you are... worried about serving with pony who sells his talents. You may be thinking that I am not loyal, that I would desert you all for money. I want you all to know that is not true. I have not signed a piece of paper, but I take Herr Valius' word as my promise. I will serve as best I can, and I will not hesitate to lay my life down for each and every one of you."

With that, the mercenary took a swig of his fresh drink and simply sat there. That had to be said.

[Apolline Allura]

Between both Novaya and Martel's responses, Cutlass' mind was put at ease somewhat by the understanding tone of what the both of them had said. Not many ponies would be willing to overlook implied villainy in somepony they were to trust to have their back. But Cutlass wasn't that kind of mare anymore. Stories of certain things would be left another day, and she felt content in knowing her secrets would never be known. They had a job to do, and tonight was the night for merry making and camraderie. She was brought back to a certain group of two that accompanied her once, which made her smile (which had already been in place since the drink she had before she spilled the beans) even wider.

“So I suppose I am here because of duty," said the sergeant major, "I never asked to be stabled for the next month a half, so I had to find something constructive to do with myself. When I heard that there seemed to be an... infestation in Lunae, well, let’s just say my sense of adventure got the best of me.”

Cutlass chuckled lightly and quickly managed to clink her bottle against Novaya's tankard. "I'll drink to that. Boredom is a powerful motivation when challenged by adventure."

Radiant Steel looked upon her and the others with what Cutlass assumed to be respect, as she was the greenest member of the group, and more or less seemed to be staying out of the way in conversation. Cute. Of course, this silence was broken somewhere down the line.

"Thank you for the kind words, Miss Cutlass. They are most appreciated... And you mean to say you know of my father then? I do wonder if he would truly look favorably upon me getting wrapped up in something of this nature..."

Cutlass snorted. "I'd be surprised if he doesn't find pride and honor in his daughter taking on the forces of evil with a team of dedicated ponies to free a village."

And before she knew it, Radiant was suddenly hacking and coughing before nearly pitching herself out of her own seat. Cutlass stifled a laugh and a comment as she watched the rookie mare attempt to comprehend the vile flavor of alcohol. She was no worse for wear herself, her eyes were already somewhat glassy, and her speech wasn't suffering as much as the impulsive things she began to say, though she was not completely gone.

"That is why you should not be drinking Stallian drinks! They are focused on getting drunk, not on taste. In Germaney, we treat drink as something to be savored... "

"You haven't had too many Central Equestrian brews then. This Sweet Apple whiskey from Ponyville could be a drop on my tongue that I'd be satisfied with for days on end." said a contented Cutlass, draining the bottle in full and reaching for another. This would make...three? Four? She had lost count already, which couldn't bode well for her waning sobriety.

Granted, when Martel had began speaking his piece in-between drinks, she leaned in to listen intently.

"Kameraden, I am understanding if you are... worried about serving with pony who sells his talents. You may be thinking that I am not loyal, that I would desert you all for money. I want you all to know that is not true. I have not signed a piece of paper, but I take Herr Valius' word as my promise. I will serve as best I can, and I will not hesitate to lay my life down for each and every one of you."

The cloaked mare clinked her bottle against his tankard as well with a serious expression. "You have my trust, Martel Starkhuf, just like everypony at this table," she looked around to the other two, her tone solemn and sincere, "Just promise me one thing, provided we all get out of this alive..."

A large goofy grin appeared on Cutlass' face. "...I want a song written about this when it's over."

[Dio]

"We will be saving our bits, maybe buy you a retirement gift?" the Germanean said.

“I might take you up on that, molot’chik,” Novaya said, suddenly serious. Of course she couldn’t resist breaking out into a grin with her response. “... in twenty years! I am not old enough for pension yet!”

Novaya stifled a laugh as Radiant Steel nearly fell out of her seat in the aftermath of her swig of Stallian vodka. The flier was a featherweight! Did her friends never take her out before? What did guardsponies in Canterlot do in their time off? Did they even have time off?

“You have a lot to learn, letchika!” the sergeant snickered at the younger guardsmare.

"That is why you should not be drinking Stallian drinks! They are focused on getting drunk, not on taste. In Germaney, we treat drink as something to be savored... Here, let me be showing you.” The large stallion waved down a waitress, having her deliver a tall stein of of red beer. He continued, “Very sweet, not strong at all, I think you will be liking it! Not like those brutish things that ponies from Stalliongrad call 'drinks'. No offense of course."

“None taken,” Novaya said, waving a hoof in dismissal of the unintended slight. “Though in our defense, drink is not drink, merely a tool for getting to know your comrades better!”

The sergeant took another bite of orange and shot of vodka, smacking her lips together as she downed the fruity yet biting concoction. “You see, there are always walls between us. The vodka, it helps us break these walls down, especially among the enlisted. After all, how are you supposed to fight together if you care not for your comrade? Our drink is bitter because our winters are bitter, as are the battles we fight on land and sky. Monsters, criminals, injustice. It is our duty to protect those who call the Frontier home from such things. Our local fare serves as constant reminder of that. There are bonds of blood, bonds of water, and bonds of Stallianoya! I will let you be the judge of which is the strongest!”

"Kameraden, I am understanding if you are... worried about serving with pony who sells his talents. You may be thinking that I am not loyal, that I would desert you all for money. I want you all to know that is not true. I have not signed a piece of paper, but I take Herr Valius' word as my promise. I will serve as best I can, and I will not hesitate to lay my life down for each and every one of you."

Cutlass clinked her bottle against the tankard in assent. "You have my trust, Martel Starkhuf, just like everypony at this table," she looked around to the other two, her tone solemn and sincere, "Just promise me one thing, provided we all get out of this alive..." A large goofy grin appeared on Cutlass' face. "...I want a song written about this when it's over."

Novaya laughed heartily. Yes, the group was coming together nicely. Regardless of the trouble they faced, this night surely proved that they wished to see it through to the end. She could only hope that those wishes could be backed by steely resolve when push came to shove. But the night was young and the sergeant major could worry about that in the morning.

“URAH!” she shouted, raising her bottle to the Stallian Guardspony’s cheer of assent. “Tovarischi po oruzhiyu! Comrades in arms! Together we stand, through thick and thin, through everything!”

******

“... through everything,” Novaya mumbled, mostly to herself.

Her stomach felt like it was full of nails and the hardwood of the bar counter may as well have been frost-coated steel from an Ostrov airship dock. Lifting the tankard next to her, the sergeant major took a deep breath before throwing her head back and chugging its contents. The sloshing liquid burned its way down her throat, worming its way in between the nails in her stomach. Novaya suppressed her gag reflex, stomaching the cold water while trying not to wretch.

It was painful, but necessary. After all, the best cure for a hangover was hydration and time. The sergeant grimaced as she slammed the tankard back down onto the table. Her stomach continued to growl in protest as she munched on the home fries and scrambled eggs that had been offered by the barkeep. The toast was slightly burnt and the home fries a bit raw, but this was Port Dawn, not Canterlot and the tavern was a tavern, not a five-star restaurant. Novaya wouldn’t have it any other way... well save the raging stomache.

The sergeant major peered past her now-empty tankard at the rest of the crew. Each pony was in varying degrees of disrepair from the evening before, but each was awake and each seemed serviceable. The master sergeant waved a hoof in a circular motion over her head in the “rally up” hoof sign.

“Grab a quick bit to eat, team. We’ll go over the map before we leave.”

[RarityDash]

Radiant groaned as she sat at the table with the others, now at morning. Gah. What were these pains? Her head was throbbing and she just felt terribly ill. Her whole body felt so very sluggish. What had she been thinking? To save face from her embarrassing attempt to get down the stallian vodka, she had forced down even more bitter, foul tasting alcohols. Eventually she found some lighter drinks she could force down more easily, but after just a couple, she had become stupidly impaired and passed out at the table.

Somehow this morning was even worse than the night before. She couldn't imagine she looked very good. She had to wonder what the others thought of her now though. Barely managing to get any of their drinks down and then losing herself after having consumed only an infinitesimal fraction of what the rest of them had consumed? That was hardly suitable for a soldier. She had always known alcohol didn't agree with her in taste; her brother Dagger often teased her by saying she had the palate of a filly half her age, and like most things Dagger said about her it was frustratingly hard for her to argue with. Apparently it wasn't just the taste though; she was a lightweight when it came to tolerance of its effects as well.

Her stomach was in pain. She really didn't feel like eating any of the food in front of her. She wasn't sure she'd be able to. She kind of wanted to just stay in bed and not deal with any of this today, but she was pretty sure that wouldn't endear her to the group. Groggily, she sat there, not saying much as she played with the food on her place, still unsure what reaction actually trying to eat it might have. Finally, she risked it and took a bite of her breakfast. There was some effort involved in keeping it down, but she managed.

She let out a small groan between more bites. She could hear what the Sergeant Major, who hardly looked perfectly well herself, speak but it was kind of hard to make it all out through her pounding headache. She doubted very much that she'd be very much use for their discussions this morning.

[Bannhammer]

"Would somepony please be stopping that ringing?" the purple stallion grunted and put a hoof to his ear as he sat at the table. Martel's stomach had decided to take up gymnastics, and the last thing he needed at that moment was a god awful ringing in his ears. Fortunately, there was something to take his mind off of his currently hungover self, food! Mountains of the inn's grub lay on his plate, with a few empty ones lying off to the side. The newest dish was added to that collection posthaste as he gobbled down another batch of slop. It tasted horrible, but that wasn't the point.

He put his plate down long enough to prod Radiant in the shoulder. "Eat, tiny pony, if you do not eat now, you will waste rations later. We cannot have little knight keeling over in battle because she did not eat slop." With that, he returned to his own business and gobbled down more food. After a short while, Martel took a sip of coffee, the only such pause in his eating before diving back in. Thankfully, the guttural gobbling and slurping ended soon enough. He raised his head up high and looked around.

"Frau Cutlass, I am glad that you are paying for meal, but I do not know if it was worth your bits... In Germaney, we at least know what we are eating... this slop is like what army ponies eat. Not to be offending, but mercenaries have standards, at least."

Martel shrugged his shoulders and went back to eating, the taste didn't matter, he just needed the calories and energy that the slop would provide.

"I am hoping that Kapitän Novaya is having a plan for us... I am merely pony with hammer, I am good at killing ponies and tearing flesh, not thinking about how and when to do so."

[Apolline Allura]

Cutlass moaned contentedly. The water, as terrible as it tasted, was slowly wearing away her headache and hangover. What a night! The fellowship was forged, and Cutlass had grown a certain fondness for her comrades. Though Novaya had taken up a lead position, it could easy be seen that all four of them would be responsible for victory and success. Combat ready, a feeling of harmony between them all and a nice sober morning to test the interactions of everypony to see if it wasn't just the alcohol talking was great enough that Cutlass didn't mind if her pillow was squishy and made noises when she mov---

"Eek!" the mare squeaked as she sat up suddenly, realizing she had been dozing in her apple cinnamon oatmeal, chunks of said fruit and flecks of oat all over the side of her face. Last she remembered, she had put together a little plate of stale garlic bread, eggs saturated in cheese, and her oatmeal, thrown a little bleary eyed 'good morning' to the other ponies present, and leaned down to take a bite.

Apparently, she leaned down too far, and ended up napping in her breakfast. While the others voices could be heard above her, Cutlass was mostly deaf to whatever it was they were all saying. The former outlaw wiped at her face with a hoof before looking over to Novaya.

"Frau Cutlass, I am glad that you are paying for meal, but I do not know if it was worth your bits... In Germaney, we at least know what we are eating... this slop is like what army ponies eat. Not to be offending, but mercenaries have standards, at least."

Cutlass murmured something which sounded remarkably close to, "You're welcome."

"This village. Is it quarantined? Ponies get in, but they don't come out?" asked Cutlass, careful to make sure to get another long chug of her water at the table. "Not to mention, are we striking at night or day? The old man didn't give us to go on." A pause. "I knew that he didn't give us much to begin with, but now that we're in it, it's becoming a bit more apparent."

[Dio]

"I am hoping that Kapitän Novaya is having a plan for us... I am merely pony with hammer, I am good at killing ponies and tearing flesh, not thinking about how and when to do so."

"Kapitan? Do not start saluting me yet, molot’chik! I work for a living!" Novaya snorted in mock contempt at the stallion’s remark. Hydration was helping her alertness, as was loads of home fries and bland but thick scrambled eggs. “And as much as you may enjoy the thrill of battle, we should not be so quick to apply lethal force.”

"Every effort not spent on killing blow to head of organization is wasted. There may be some way to save the townsfolk yet. Until we determine that for sure, we focus all efforts on breaking the cultists’ hold."

Novaya withdrew a small notebook and pencil from her combat webbing, quickly sketching out the larger forms on the map. Complementing the layout of the village itself were several jagged scribbles around the perimeter coinciding with rocky hills and large boulders formed of compacted glacial moraine. Small arrowhead shapes representing evergreens and a meandering path with water-squiggles denoting a stream rounded out the rough sketch.

“The roads to the west of Port Dawn should lead us to Lunae. If we leave within the next hour or so, we should arrive with enough light left to do bit of reconnaissance before we bunker down for the night. According to what I was able to scrounge from local guides before meeting with Tovarisch-Magya Valius, there should be covered areas for us to shelter for the night in the forest nearby.”

"This village. Is it quarantined? Ponies get in, but they don't come out?" asked Cutlass, careful to make sure to get another long chug of her water at the table. "Not to mention, are we striking at night or day? The old man didn't give us to go on." A pause. "I knew that he didn't give us much to begin with, but now that we're in it, it's becoming a bit more apparent."

“Any quarantine appears to have been word of mouth. If somepony spreads rumor of infected village and no missions from it return, who has need for decree of law or doctors? As for operations, we will decide whether we perform daylight raid or night infiltration after we perform reconnaissance. Magya Valius gave us objective; it is up to us to make a plan.”

“There are vantage points here, here, and here.” Novaya pointed to various points in the hills around the rough sketch of the village. “When we arrive, I want to make observations of the village, learn guard patrols and get a head count before we go in.”

“With some work and a bit of luck, we will be able to ignore the thralls and go straight for cultist leadership. They have the advantage of numbers and knowledge of the land, so our only options will be to close the knowledge gap and overwhelm them with speed, stealth, and momentum. Any questions?”

[RarityDash]

"Eat, tiny pony, if you do not eat now, you will waste rations later. We cannot have little knight keeling over in battle because she did not eat slop."

"Ugh..." Radiant groaned as she heard the Germane pony's words and felt his hoof prod her. She sat up straight and nodded. He was right. For the sake of the operation, she needed to force something down... It was just that that didn't feel like it was going to be easy, especially when what being served to her was being called "slop". Radiant was a quite picky eater in the first place, and in her current state, it just didn't feel very possible.

Nevertheless, the young mare found some fruit on her plate that looked okay and forced it into her mouth. She swallowed slowly and struggled but managed to keep it down before turning to sip some water. "I'll do my best, sir," she said to Martel in a weak, half-hearted voice before turning to her plate and trying to force more food down selectively.

The others were talking about the operation. All of them from their mannerisms seemed to be suffering ill effects as well. She had to wonder how, if they felt anything like her, they could even be operating well enough to think this stuff, much less articulate it. The Sergeant Major in particular seemed alarmingly cognizant, hardly a step behind how she had been the day before as she laid out various points that the pegasus, in her haze, could only sort of fully grasp. Radiant couldn't help but find that admirable. This was definitely a soldier to take inspiration from.

As the mare opened things up for questions, Radiant looked away to the corner of the room. There were some questions on her mind, certain things she might have noticed upon being woken up that morning... but Radiant was kind of hesitant to ask them. For one thing, they weren't entirely relevant to the topic at hand. For another... she really kind of feared what answers to these questions might be. Radiant was a very straight-laced, upfront young mare; she lived her life devoted to land and princess. Anything that might contradict that image, kind of scared her. Still, for the sake of the operation....

"Umm... well.... I have a question... but it's not really about this," Radiant said, blushing a little, her voice still without energy.

"Er... you see.... I don't really have any memory of last night after a certain point... and... uh... when I... er, when I woke up this morning, some of my armor and stuff was missing... and I was just wondering if maybe somepony might know what happened...?" Radiant sat awkwardly as she finished, not sure how they'd react and hopeful that the truth wasn't too terrible.

[Bannhammer]

The germane stood still, no unnecessary movements were made, nor were any useless words shared. Instead, Martel looked over the map, inspecting whatever notes had been jotted down by the mare in charge. Her observations were sound, though obvious, it took a good leader to address even the things taken for granted. She asked if the group had any questions, and the mercenary shook his head, a solemn 'No'. His job was to smash the ponies in their way, and smash the infected with a little more gentleness.

Radiant spoke up, and the sight of the alcohol impaired pony brought a sly grin to Martel's face. So, /now/ she wanted to learn about last night? After downing all those drinks, Martel could still remember the highlights of the previous evening. Some more booze, some cards, and a plethora of winnings later, all of them lay blacked out in their respective rooms. Of course, some went to their rooms lighter than before, they weren't playing cards just for fun.

Martel reached to his side, under the table, and pulled out a piece of armor, not enough to even cover one of his legs, but it would have been a substantial part of a guard's protection. It gave a little jingle as he dangled it near Radiant's head.

"I am wondering if somepony would like to be telling tiny mare about last night, and why somepony is better off learning the rules of poker before she is playing..."

[Apolline Allura]

"We were playing poker?" said Cutlass, ears perking up.

She thought they were playing blackjack at the time. Why else was she intermittently yelling 'hit me' last night? Had she gotten that wasted? Oh Celestia...

In any case, she shrugged, "At least she knew what game we were playing," and tapped Radiant on the shoulder, "I think we'll find your armors soon enough. I know thieves, and this place didn't happen by any last night." ("Aside of me.")

Novaya's plan was quick and quiet. Something Cutlass was familiar with in her old line of work. Not that she didn't count on something going wrong at some point in time however. She had never taken an op like this, and it looked way too hazardous to be enough of a cakewalk that they'd slide in and slide back out unharmed. Not that it wasn't fine by her. A fight made any op interesting at the very least.

"I've no questions Major," said Cutlass, finishing the last of her food. "I'm ready to begin whenever you are."