[Tarfuss]

Shhhhht. Shhhhhht. Shhhhht. Shhhhht. Tarfuss was sitting on his bunk in his barracks room at Darkblade Fortress. His pipe was stuck in his mouth and he had his long sword on his lap. He was running a honing stone over it in a methodical manner. He listenened to the sound it made. Shhhht. Shhhht. Shhhht. His meditative task was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a horn. It was an alarm signal. He put his pipe out, stowed his honing stone, and sheathed his sword. He grabbed his weapons and left his room.

Learning the location of the threat he ran to the shore, gathering legionnaires as he did. The Spear Deakin barked at those not moving with the alacrity he felt the sound of an alarm warranted. "Move it, Legionnaire! Move it! Unless you want my boot stuck up your seat! This isn't a drill!"

He arrived at the shore with a group of legionnaires in his wake. He looked out at the boats foundering in the water and the refugees scrambling to shore. It was unclear what exactly had taken place. A far off storm perhaps? Then the stories of Orcs and Goblins began to make its way to him. His lips thinned out into a frown and he felt the anger stirring in him.

Looking up the shore he spotted an easily enough spotted figure, the tall redheaded man was shouting orders. Tarfuss motioned to the group of legionaries following him and he trotted over to where Redbeard was. He was whipping the crowd up into a blood thirsty call for revenge. A call for war. He threw the tall man a question: "Orders?"