(no subject)
Guard Headquarters
A large, angry figure with a very new knot on his shoulder comes stomping into the guard barracks. The guard at the desk appears to be bored, absorbed in contemplating a hide until Krummolt bangs into it with his hip, jarring the desk noisily. "GUARDSMEN!" he bellows with authority, or at least dangerous sounding anger. "Form up before I count to ten or pack your sharding bags!" A few guardsmen on nightshift startled awake scramble in their blankets as the new captain bellows "ONE!" in a style much better befitting a drill sergeant than a captain.
Feilan was on his cot. It's getting somewhat late, after all, and he's finished with his own shift. He'd even started reading a little! The sudden banging and bellowing gets a jerk from the recruit, however, eyes wide as he very nearly topples right off his bunk. "Whoa!" One hand comes down, propping against the floor to avoid smacking into it, and then he's up, saluting once as he fumbles into the line.
Krummolt counts his way up, but fundamentally, a count of ten is more than enough time to fumble into rows and something approaching attention. The guardsmen who were asleep aren't exactly in uniform, but under the circumstances, Krummolt doesn't seem to consider that of great importance. He starts to pace in front of the rows, glancing up and down one guardsman in nothing more than underwear. "Yesterday, a pair of prisoners were placed in the brig. To be held overnight," he growls out, looking over the guardsmen and recruits for signs of guilt as he introduces the topic.
Feilan reaches to give a little scratch at his leg, although there's a certain amount of interest given when the 'prisoners' are mentioned. Or escapees, anyway. Once the reason for the ranks is given, however, he clears his throat just a bit, and gives his head a shake. Ohhh boy. Not like the entire barracks and probably rest of the Weyr hasn't heard about the little jailbreak by now, right?
Krummolt starts to stalk up and down again. In the general shifting, there's little to pick between one vaguely concerned appearance and another. "Now, I figured they'd be out of there in the morning," he drawls out, his casual tone entirely failing to mask underlying anger. "But imagine my surprise to find out they were out of there /before/ the morning. Before any orders came down." This much, everyone surely knows. "Now, what /I/ want to know, is how in the name of Faranth's first mating flight they got out of there!" His voice rises to a shout before he pauses and lowers it again to almost a hiss. "Would anyone...like to /volunteer/ any information? Now? And maybe save their asses?" In the quiet of the room, the question lingers, not really all that invitingly.
Feilan clears his throat just a little bit, looking down the line of other guards and recruits. /Volunteer/ information? Does that mean they'll be /interrogated/ if they don't? "Er..well I was runnin' 'round, trying to find the Weyrleader, Captain. You know, like you told me. Couldn't get ahold of him though. Sent a firelizard and everything when I couldn't find him. Er...but..well, I mean, maybe they stole the key off someone?" It's possible, right? "I'm sure if anyone saw anything, they'd have told you right away."
Most of the guardsmen, who really don't have anything to report, shuffle nervously or just stay silent and glance around at Feilan. Krummolt strides over to the recruit, given his unofficial self-election as spokesman. "Stole a key, do you think?" he repeats, eyes narrowed in some suspicion. "So. Check your keys. But there's only a few who /carry/ those keys. /Mine/ weren't stolen..." He trails off, looking abstracted.
Feilan makes a slight face, brows lifting after a moment. "Well I don't carry any." He's only a recruit, after all. Why would he be given any? "'Sides, it's just speculation 'n everything. I mean, there's no real way of knowing! All I'm sayin', is that if someone saw something, Captain, we'd obviously report it. It's our jobs and everything."
Krummolt appears to be jolted from his brief reverie by Feilan's words and his black eyebrows snap together, sharply contrasted by his shaven scalp. "Yes, recruit, it /is/ your job to report." He steps back and stalks up and down the line again. "So! Until we have some /word/ of this, we are going to be taking inventory of every key to every lock in the guards' purview! And you can expect longer shifts until we find out what happened! Two prisoners in the brig is trivial; two getting out is a black eye to us /all/, and believe me when I say we're all going to feel it! Check the duty rosters in the morning, because they're going to be updated." And something in the way he says that is decidedly ominous. "DISMISSED!" And he starts stalking out of the headquarters.
Feilan is dismissed! Huzzah! Letting out a sigh of relief, probably in conjunction with a bunch of other guards, he meanders his way back to his bunk again, flopping onto it. "Hooo boy.."
A large, angry figure with a very new knot on his shoulder comes stomping into the guard barracks. The guard at the desk appears to be bored, absorbed in contemplating a hide until Krummolt bangs into it with his hip, jarring the desk noisily. "GUARDSMEN!" he bellows with authority, or at least dangerous sounding anger. "Form up before I count to ten or pack your sharding bags!" A few guardsmen on nightshift startled awake scramble in their blankets as the new captain bellows "ONE!" in a style much better befitting a drill sergeant than a captain.
Feilan was on his cot. It's getting somewhat late, after all, and he's finished with his own shift. He'd even started reading a little! The sudden banging and bellowing gets a jerk from the recruit, however, eyes wide as he very nearly topples right off his bunk. "Whoa!" One hand comes down, propping against the floor to avoid smacking into it, and then he's up, saluting once as he fumbles into the line.
Krummolt counts his way up, but fundamentally, a count of ten is more than enough time to fumble into rows and something approaching attention. The guardsmen who were asleep aren't exactly in uniform, but under the circumstances, Krummolt doesn't seem to consider that of great importance. He starts to pace in front of the rows, glancing up and down one guardsman in nothing more than underwear. "Yesterday, a pair of prisoners were placed in the brig. To be held overnight," he growls out, looking over the guardsmen and recruits for signs of guilt as he introduces the topic.
Feilan reaches to give a little scratch at his leg, although there's a certain amount of interest given when the 'prisoners' are mentioned. Or escapees, anyway. Once the reason for the ranks is given, however, he clears his throat just a bit, and gives his head a shake. Ohhh boy. Not like the entire barracks and probably rest of the Weyr hasn't heard about the little jailbreak by now, right?
Krummolt starts to stalk up and down again. In the general shifting, there's little to pick between one vaguely concerned appearance and another. "Now, I figured they'd be out of there in the morning," he drawls out, his casual tone entirely failing to mask underlying anger. "But imagine my surprise to find out they were out of there /before/ the morning. Before any orders came down." This much, everyone surely knows. "Now, what /I/ want to know, is how in the name of Faranth's first mating flight they got out of there!" His voice rises to a shout before he pauses and lowers it again to almost a hiss. "Would anyone...like to /volunteer/ any information? Now? And maybe save their asses?" In the quiet of the room, the question lingers, not really all that invitingly.
Feilan clears his throat just a little bit, looking down the line of other guards and recruits. /Volunteer/ information? Does that mean they'll be /interrogated/ if they don't? "Er..well I was runnin' 'round, trying to find the Weyrleader, Captain. You know, like you told me. Couldn't get ahold of him though. Sent a firelizard and everything when I couldn't find him. Er...but..well, I mean, maybe they stole the key off someone?" It's possible, right? "I'm sure if anyone saw anything, they'd have told you right away."
Most of the guardsmen, who really don't have anything to report, shuffle nervously or just stay silent and glance around at Feilan. Krummolt strides over to the recruit, given his unofficial self-election as spokesman. "Stole a key, do you think?" he repeats, eyes narrowed in some suspicion. "So. Check your keys. But there's only a few who /carry/ those keys. /Mine/ weren't stolen..." He trails off, looking abstracted.
Feilan makes a slight face, brows lifting after a moment. "Well I don't carry any." He's only a recruit, after all. Why would he be given any? "'Sides, it's just speculation 'n everything. I mean, there's no real way of knowing! All I'm sayin', is that if someone saw something, Captain, we'd obviously report it. It's our jobs and everything."
Krummolt appears to be jolted from his brief reverie by Feilan's words and his black eyebrows snap together, sharply contrasted by his shaven scalp. "Yes, recruit, it /is/ your job to report." He steps back and stalks up and down the line again. "So! Until we have some /word/ of this, we are going to be taking inventory of every key to every lock in the guards' purview! And you can expect longer shifts until we find out what happened! Two prisoners in the brig is trivial; two getting out is a black eye to us /all/, and believe me when I say we're all going to feel it! Check the duty rosters in the morning, because they're going to be updated." And something in the way he says that is decidedly ominous. "DISMISSED!" And he starts stalking out of the headquarters.
Feilan is dismissed! Huzzah! Letting out a sigh of relief, probably in conjunction with a bunch of other guards, he meanders his way back to his bunk again, flopping onto it. "Hooo boy.."