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May. 8th, 2004 12:24 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsSet late tonight. Doug has an Askani dream, mostly dealing with military stuff. Combat training, battles, etc.
Doug sighed and fluffed his pillow under his head. It had been a long day. Not exactly the best of birthdays, although deep down he had enjoyed the attention lavished upon him in Jamie's kidnapping and his night out with Marie-Ange. He was still stressed about schoolwork, and miffed at pretty much everyone involved in the blowup over the Boston trip, but it had still been an okay day. He catalogued the things he had to do in terms of studying on Saturday as he began to doze off...
---
*thud*
His face hit the soft ground in front of it, and as he raised up onto hands and knees, a trickle of blood ran out of his mouth. "Get up, youngling," a deep voice came from behind him. He planted the butt end of his shalmatar in the ground and rose as quickly as he could, whirling it to a guard position, deflecting the strike coming at him. He disengaged and backed away, breathing heavily.
"Good," came the encouragement from the large black man standing opposite him. "But you took too long to get up. A Canaanite's not going to give you that long to recover." The man turned to address the rest of the young recruits in Askani colors before him. "Understood?"
"Yes, Captain Tetherblood!" came the shouted reply.
---
*thud*
His face hit the soft ground in front of it, and has he raised up onto hands and knees, a trickle of blood ran out of his mouth. Rolling and twisting, he brought his shalmatar up to block the vicious strike from a green-armored soldier. Disengaging, he rose to one knee and skewered the Canaanite with the bladed end of the polearm. Pushing sweaty, blood-caked hair out of his face, he struggled back to his feet, looking around frantically for armor that wasn't green. A basso roar drew his attention to Captain Tetherblood, standing at the base of an Askani emblem and attempting to rally the troops around him.
"Stand fast! Stand fast, stab your eyes!"
---
The column stretched ahead in front of him and away behind him. Staying in step with the soldiers around him, he adjusted the shalmatar strapped across his back and raised his voice to join in the tune of the marching song being sung around him.
Negoina na'hail negoina no'assri salaana
Solhara e'landella reesaila venana
No'ahnra, no'nomaina, noani sei valaiska
Valaila messira e'falahay i'negoinahalla
e'ignaia, o'h'aless su'igna ihr ainamia siaska
His heart swelled with camaraderie for the men marching with him. Clan Askani might be outnumbered by the Canaanites, but none could question their spirit, their heart, the steel of their souls.
---
He leaned heavily on his shalmatar. The line had nearly broken in the last Canaanite charge, but Tetherblood had been there himself, shoring up the line wherever it had been needed, his blade gleaming in the afternoon sun, dealing death to every green-armored figure that came within its reach. As the water boy came by with a canteen, he offered it to Tetherblood first, but the black man waved a hand, indicating he should drink.
"You've done well, lad," Tetherblood said gently. "I remember when you first began training, you could barely hold a shalmatar without dropping it or tripping yourself."
Handing the canteen to Tetherblood, he wiped sweat from his eyes. "We aren't going to last, are we, sir?" he asked quietly.
Lowering the canteen, Tetherblood paused. He could see the wish to lie to him in the black man's eyes, but he shook his head sadly. "If reinforcements were coming, they should have been here already. I believe we're all that's left, son."
He hung his head quietly. "I...I'm afraid of dying, sir."
Tetherblood nodded. "Most mean fear dying, son. But the truth of the matter is this. Every man dies. But better by far to meet death on your feet, a curse on your lips, steel in your hand, and a comrade at your side. It's how we face death that determines the worth of our lives, whether they mean something. So if death should come for us this day, son, stand tall and spit in his eye." Tetherblood clapped a hand to his shoulder and continued down the line, speaking words of encouragement.
---
"Why do you fight?" Tetherblood barked at the ragged line of recruits in front of him.
"For the Clan, sir!" came the roared reply.
"Indeed," replied Tetherblood. "Then if you would fight for the Clan, you must be ready to put the Clan before yourself. It is a difficult thing to ask of a man, to be willing to lay down his life for his Clan. But I believe that you men have it in you. That is why you are here today. You have completed your training, and you will be issued the armor of the Clan. Wear it proudly."
A chorus of cheers was his answer.
---
Tetherblood stood quietly at the base of the Askani emblem fluttering in the breeze, his shalmatar grounded at his feet.
"Why do you fight?" he asked softly of the small knot of men remaining alive.
"For the Clan, sir!" came the roared reply.
"Indeed," replied Tetherblood. "It is a difficult thing to ask of a man, to be willing to lay down his life for his clan. But I _know_ that you men have it in you. You have not broken in the face of superior odds. You have held the line. You have done the Clan proud." The black man's face sobered. "It is a certainty that we will not see the dawn. But I am proud to call each of you brother, and I am equally proud to stand next to each of you and meet my fate. For while we may die, our honor will live long after we are gone." The rising noise of advancing Canaanites rose behind his voice, but each of the Clansmen remained fixed on the Captain.
"I swear to you, my brothers, that a part of us will live on past this day. While they may defeat us, we will ensure that those Canaanite bastards will always remember the day they took the field against us. They will remember this place, this battle, this ground. They make take our lives, but they will never take our souls!" As the Canaanite horde crested a final hill and began its final charge, Tetherblood stood grimly, the small knot of men at his side. Tetherblood looked up and down the line, and smiled.
"Who wants to live forever, boys?"
A chorus of cheers was his answer.
---
Doug shot upright in his bed, shaking his head to clear it. He distinctly remembered the feel of cloth wrappings over hardened wood in his hands, and the yells and screams of the battlefield in his ears. He cocked his head. ~That was...odd,~ he thought, and leaned back against his pillow, falling asleep again relatively quickly.
Doug sighed and fluffed his pillow under his head. It had been a long day. Not exactly the best of birthdays, although deep down he had enjoyed the attention lavished upon him in Jamie's kidnapping and his night out with Marie-Ange. He was still stressed about schoolwork, and miffed at pretty much everyone involved in the blowup over the Boston trip, but it had still been an okay day. He catalogued the things he had to do in terms of studying on Saturday as he began to doze off...
---
*thud*
His face hit the soft ground in front of it, and as he raised up onto hands and knees, a trickle of blood ran out of his mouth. "Get up, youngling," a deep voice came from behind him. He planted the butt end of his shalmatar in the ground and rose as quickly as he could, whirling it to a guard position, deflecting the strike coming at him. He disengaged and backed away, breathing heavily.
"Good," came the encouragement from the large black man standing opposite him. "But you took too long to get up. A Canaanite's not going to give you that long to recover." The man turned to address the rest of the young recruits in Askani colors before him. "Understood?"
"Yes, Captain Tetherblood!" came the shouted reply.
---
*thud*
His face hit the soft ground in front of it, and has he raised up onto hands and knees, a trickle of blood ran out of his mouth. Rolling and twisting, he brought his shalmatar up to block the vicious strike from a green-armored soldier. Disengaging, he rose to one knee and skewered the Canaanite with the bladed end of the polearm. Pushing sweaty, blood-caked hair out of his face, he struggled back to his feet, looking around frantically for armor that wasn't green. A basso roar drew his attention to Captain Tetherblood, standing at the base of an Askani emblem and attempting to rally the troops around him.
"Stand fast! Stand fast, stab your eyes!"
---
The column stretched ahead in front of him and away behind him. Staying in step with the soldiers around him, he adjusted the shalmatar strapped across his back and raised his voice to join in the tune of the marching song being sung around him.
Negoina na'hail negoina no'assri salaana
Solhara e'landella reesaila venana
No'ahnra, no'nomaina, noani sei valaiska
Valaila messira e'falahay i'negoinahalla
e'ignaia, o'h'aless su'igna ihr ainamia siaska
His heart swelled with camaraderie for the men marching with him. Clan Askani might be outnumbered by the Canaanites, but none could question their spirit, their heart, the steel of their souls.
---
He leaned heavily on his shalmatar. The line had nearly broken in the last Canaanite charge, but Tetherblood had been there himself, shoring up the line wherever it had been needed, his blade gleaming in the afternoon sun, dealing death to every green-armored figure that came within its reach. As the water boy came by with a canteen, he offered it to Tetherblood first, but the black man waved a hand, indicating he should drink.
"You've done well, lad," Tetherblood said gently. "I remember when you first began training, you could barely hold a shalmatar without dropping it or tripping yourself."
Handing the canteen to Tetherblood, he wiped sweat from his eyes. "We aren't going to last, are we, sir?" he asked quietly.
Lowering the canteen, Tetherblood paused. He could see the wish to lie to him in the black man's eyes, but he shook his head sadly. "If reinforcements were coming, they should have been here already. I believe we're all that's left, son."
He hung his head quietly. "I...I'm afraid of dying, sir."
Tetherblood nodded. "Most mean fear dying, son. But the truth of the matter is this. Every man dies. But better by far to meet death on your feet, a curse on your lips, steel in your hand, and a comrade at your side. It's how we face death that determines the worth of our lives, whether they mean something. So if death should come for us this day, son, stand tall and spit in his eye." Tetherblood clapped a hand to his shoulder and continued down the line, speaking words of encouragement.
---
"Why do you fight?" Tetherblood barked at the ragged line of recruits in front of him.
"For the Clan, sir!" came the roared reply.
"Indeed," replied Tetherblood. "Then if you would fight for the Clan, you must be ready to put the Clan before yourself. It is a difficult thing to ask of a man, to be willing to lay down his life for his Clan. But I believe that you men have it in you. That is why you are here today. You have completed your training, and you will be issued the armor of the Clan. Wear it proudly."
A chorus of cheers was his answer.
---
Tetherblood stood quietly at the base of the Askani emblem fluttering in the breeze, his shalmatar grounded at his feet.
"Why do you fight?" he asked softly of the small knot of men remaining alive.
"For the Clan, sir!" came the roared reply.
"Indeed," replied Tetherblood. "It is a difficult thing to ask of a man, to be willing to lay down his life for his clan. But I _know_ that you men have it in you. You have not broken in the face of superior odds. You have held the line. You have done the Clan proud." The black man's face sobered. "It is a certainty that we will not see the dawn. But I am proud to call each of you brother, and I am equally proud to stand next to each of you and meet my fate. For while we may die, our honor will live long after we are gone." The rising noise of advancing Canaanites rose behind his voice, but each of the Clansmen remained fixed on the Captain.
"I swear to you, my brothers, that a part of us will live on past this day. While they may defeat us, we will ensure that those Canaanite bastards will always remember the day they took the field against us. They will remember this place, this battle, this ground. They make take our lives, but they will never take our souls!" As the Canaanite horde crested a final hill and began its final charge, Tetherblood stood grimly, the small knot of men at his side. Tetherblood looked up and down the line, and smiled.
"Who wants to live forever, boys?"
A chorus of cheers was his answer.
---
Doug shot upright in his bed, shaking his head to clear it. He distinctly remembered the feel of cloth wrappings over hardened wood in his hands, and the yells and screams of the battlefield in his ears. He cocked his head. ~That was...odd,~ he thought, and leaned back against his pillow, falling asleep again relatively quickly.
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