The tavern was full of laughter and light and life. It was near the evening, with the valley in shadow but the sky still bright, and touches fresh-lit casting ruddy tones across the crowd.
'We Goatkicked', coloquially known as the Goat, was quickly becoming a favorite of the fighters in the Karaks. It's name was a pun, obviously, both a reference to the time the bar's founder persuaded the We to experiment with alcohol (the sign was a carved We hunter, on its back, legs akimbo) and to a famous late-night drunken speech given soon after the Waaagh Birdmuncha, whom no one could quite remember who delivered, but was generally agreed to have proclaimed, "We few, we goatkicked few, we band of drunkards!"
The crowd was mixed tonight- the usuals in the Gunnery School's melee combat instructors, the undumgi drill sergeants, and a few of the junior officers, as well as some less regular faces.
A grey wizard sat near the back under 'take no heed', drinking and quietly taking note of moral and rumors. Soizic held court near the center, Hubert on one side and a civilian woman on the other, the table crowded about with visiting White Wolves and undumgi captains.
"A TOAST TO THE DAME MATHILDE!" Shouted one of the knights, and the wizard started violently, before realizing that no one has broken her spell. "SHE WHO LEADS US TO GLORY AGAINST THE OLD ENEMY!"
A cheer, and she realized that the grandmaster's enthusiasm had filtered down to the ranks quite undiluted. Also, that she was apparently not quite aware how popular she was with the wolfriders, if toasts were being made (by devout Ulricans!) like the greatswords used to do for Abel.
But now the conversation had moved on to the boasts. One of the junior knights began it, banging his mug down as he stood and declared,
"Steel and courage and the knowing of Ulric watching over us! We cut a swath to the gates of Kieslev on that alone, and I'd challenge any who say there are better against the chaos hordes!"
In this case, he who dared failed, for he did not read his audience. Some cheers, from the knights and some undumgi, but good-natured booing from the Gunnery school and joshing from the rest of the peanut gallery. One of the older knights spoke up,
"Aye, steel and courage'll get you far, but faith can be a bit more pointed. I've seen a priest- a real priest of the wolf, ya know?- swell with power enough to rip trolls limb from limb, and spread ice with every move. I reckon that would be best against the demons!"
He nodded deliberately. This time, there were no boos, and a respectful moment of silence, but then,
"Cannon! WOOHOOO!!!! Drown 'em in shot and powder boys, blast all those scary demons right back where they can from! YAAAAHH!!"
A corner of the room exploded in raucous cheers and hooting. Mugs were slammed together above heads by the artillery students who had theretofore been quietly lurking, but this meant the game was afoot.
"Ha!" Exclaimed Hubert, "far be it for me to disparage Ulric, and never let it be said that I despise steel or courage or gunpowder!" He shouts echoed and the corners of the room cheered back, before his voice dropped almost conspiratorially. "But if I were on the battlefield before the old enemy, I would cry out to Ulric for the heirophants to be at my side. The Light College has magic born and honed to scour away corruption in cleansing light, and the Battlemages of the Imperial Colleges rival even the elves in their control of it!"
He sat, and drank, and voices babbled over eachother to boast of their own personal prowess, and to call down such boasts. The Winter Wolves, those that would soon go north, made public oaths to bring back tales of demonslaying and their roles in it. All grew slowly quiet though, as Sir Soizic stood.
"Steel, aye! Courage, aye! Faith and magic? Why should the two be split? Let me tell you of the Lady's Damsels, paragons of light and life and virtue! Those who make other's courage into ability with their magic, and cast back demons with their faith! The greatest of her servants, to whom even the grail knights give honor! Aye, if I were to stand before all the demons in the north with only one beside me, I would take a damsel and look forward to victory!"
The room cheered, beer flowed, and a grey magister took thoughtful notes.
A/N: snippets about Soizic, or Why the Wizard Asked the Damsel. Had a bunny in my head about why Mathilde might reach out to Brettonian Damsels rather than knights, and it turned into an online rather than just a post.
How lewd! 
