Faust was walking towards the rapidly filling field where consctiptees were gathering, his robe flapping in the wind as he approached the registry benches. He was gruffly greeted by the registar and sent into the camp with instructions to find the quartermaster and requisition a tent.

As Faust walked through the camp he endured the curse words and taunts from the soldiers, magecraft was considered to be the craft of the weak or cowardly and totally unreliable besides and mages were considered second class citizens, all mages were required by law to wear the robes of a mage and never to don armour.

He found the quartermasters tent and ducked under the door flap, here more tables were set up with many tent rolls behind them. As Faust entered the tent the quartermaster looked up from his list and saw Faust.

"Another stupid mage, what do you want. I got enough to do without wasting my time with your type."
"I'm here to requisition a tent."
"We're all out of tents, try back in a few days. the cold might have toughened you up a bit by then."