89th of Searing 4622
The sound of waves crashing upon the beaches was ever-present. The pushing and pulling of the waves, the eternal pattern, casting the smell of salt in the air for all to smell. The beach and the surrounding dunes were a solitary place, visited by Valran, priests or merchants on warm days or when they needed some time away from the nearby holy city of Carine. As waves were cast upon the pebbles of the beach, for once in a very long time, the sounds of man exceeded the volume of sound created by nature itself. Hundreds of individuals were gathered upon what was normally a solitary beach. A violation of the normal serenity that was present here. Armed, boisterous and with a breath of emotions as wide as the human experience in its entirety.
In a matter of months, the beach and its surroundings had been completely transformed. Behind the ridgeline of dunes that were scattered all across the coast, a large camp had been organized. A camp with dozens of tents scattered about the open plain behind the dunes, spreading around the centre of the camp where supplies were gathered and where the more veteran members of the expeditions were gathered. This centre had been organized with clear intent, but much of that intent faded away as one got further from the centre. The once neat and square lines and structures were replaced with different qualities of materials and organizations as different groups arrived. Between the various groups, there was a wide variety. The majority of the military forces gathered at this large camp consisted of veteran mercenaries, members of the Halamire. Those soldiers who had served under various superiors and survived at least several extended tours. Now they were motivated by piety and wealth (or a combination of the two) to join this great expedition to bring order to the seas and bring down Lothric and Tyrinac.
The second most common group were those with less experience. Those who were motivated by faith and a religious duty to help spread and bring forth Ulen's will. Many of these came from the local area as well, believing that by participating here they would maybe help bring forth the Prophecies and the arrival of paradise. Though in practice most of these men came so they could look upon Nydden, an Achra of Ulen, the closest that any man could come to god. This group often lacked the equipment of the veteran mercenaries, often still having basic military equipment and supplies but lacking the knowledge that years of experience bring with them. It was these men, especially that the gathering of Merchants outside the camp were taking advantage of. As many of this group realized at the last moment that they had forgotten to buy an essential piece of equipment in order to make sure they survived. That or they bought 'holy artefacts' from merchants. 'Blessed' version of the Oaths, or various symbols and trinkets that were said to be blessed by Praetors or Tribunes for protection and would make sure that one would survive the coming battles.
The third and (final Daravinic) group were the mages, those individuals who would be the backbone of this expeditions were to survive. These mostly consisted of various Valran who were seeking to prove themselves. or those who had served a long time in the Halamire. Gaining knowledge and experience from war and having fought across the various edges of Daravin. Perhaps some of them had fought monsters on the edge of civilization before, but most of them had fought on the fields of battle or the ballrooms of the Entente. (Even if some of them were the less prominent ballrooms) All of these aforementioned groups constituted the greatest force in this mustering of forces. They were led by Damien Berkley, a Tuatha of the Halamire who had brought in a large chunk of veteran forces and was in practice the highest authority for the Daravnic contingent of the expedition. In theory, the entirety of the expedition was led by the Holy most Blessed Nydden himself, but the Divine being interfered little with the daily running of the camp.
Finally, there was the Ameslari. These enigmatic followers of Kyrikain, one of the so-called dreaming gods. Though they were the ones to initiate the expedition they were the fewest in number. Little could be told about them as they stayed mostly isolated, interacting little with the Daravinic contingent. Rumours told that they were led by an individual known as Emrik, of which most individuals knew nothing. Some said that he was a great prophet, others a butcher and holy warrior, and others said that he was a crazed lunatic and a heretic. Most of these rumours were probably wrong since nothing was known about him and when nothing was known people created crazy theories. The majority of those present knew that the Ameslari would be those who would be most critical in the defeat of the vile Beings that dominated the Straits of Adena but how this would be done was not known.
Just outside of this hubbub of humanity was a young dark-skinned Veir. Hugo Abreo, a Veir with no land to his name and little renown, was sitting on one of the dunes overlooking the large camp. He cast his eyes from the wealthy area where the elites had their elaborate and large tents, to the outskirts of the camp. At the final adventures who were arriving. Saying goodbye to the few family and friends who had joined them on this journey, but in most cases arriving by themselves and beginning to look for where to go. Sizing up the various people and groups, then being pulled towards various little gatherings and groups. Trying to join those more experienced than them, or gathering with those individuals who like them had not found a purpose yet. Hugo himself feared that in some way he could be counted amongst the ranks of those who still needed to find a group. For even though he was better in status and preparedness than most of those last arrivals, he himself was only part of a group of three (four if you counted Mule).
Even as Hugo stared off far into the distance, one solitary figure was walking towards his position. A figure who, similar to him, was wearing a set of chainmail armour. As he got closer more details could be made out. The figure's Hawkish face, his dark hair and the stern look that was on his face. After about a minute of walking uphill, the figure had arrived to sit next to Hugo. Momentarily gazing at the camp himself before responding. "You should be down there, not looking at everything that is going on from a distance. This was your idea in the first place after all. " Hugo let out a small groan before responding, a soft smile on his face. "Yes, and I do look forward to this expedition. But I had to take a moment. Come to terms with what we might face or what might happen." After this comment, Hugo felt a strong pat on his back. "Don't think about it too much, it'll just give you a headache. You could have died at any time in the past and yet you have already reached this far, maybe you can be happy with that ? I sure am at least. Also if you want to survive we could probably use a few more companions. Me, you and.... him... might not be enough."
Hugo chuckled at Bertrand's discomfort. "Well, I suppose that is true and I should not think about it too much. Let us make our way back to the camp then." With an even thread Hugo would then head down the dune, going towards the area where all the last arrivals came. The vast majority of those arrivals would be over-eager zealots, but perhaps there might be a few odd diamonds in the mix. Something that could make this expedition more successful and bring it to a potentially not-death-inducing event. As such Hugo folded his hands behind his body, and stood between two tents close to the arrival area. Keeping close eyes on all who approached.
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