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Here is a short of a mortal realm soldier being led into battle by an earth aspect general.
It was an odd thought to have at this time, Dersollin decided when he wondered if his son had had dinner yet. He hadn’t seen the boy in months, probably wouldn’t for another few. Actually, he’d probably never see him again, he couldn’t help but admit to himself as he steadied his grip on his shield. They’d said there were buck ogres in the enemy force.
Besides him, Norrin and Harginel likewise shifted their holds on the shields, the latter shivering in the cold rain. Even the shield held above her from behind could only offer so much shelter from the elements. The clouds had darkened back when they’d begun ranking up an hour ago, and by now they stood nearly ankle deep in mud.
“What’s there to parley for?” a voice from somewhere behind Dersollin grumbled over the noise of rain on shields and armor. “Let’s just kill these fairfolk and go home!”
“I thought they were anathema?” another voice spoke up.
Dersollin squinted at the horde waiting between the dark trees across the field. They looked like beastmen, from what he could see in the shadows. His sideways glances were obscured by the shields of their turtle formation, but he really hoped they outnumbered their enemy.
Spears clanking on shields stood taller were the first indication something had changed. The parley had finally ended, their general riding back towards his lines and the frail woman on the shining silver horse hurrying the opposite direction.
When the general stopped his horse just a few yards in front of Dersollin, the soldier heard commotion to his right as the ranks parted to let two adjutants through. One, a young boy, rushed to take his lord’s horse. The other, a lanky man, handed the general his white jade staff.
The ranks closed again as the adjutants left.
Slowly, the general climbed on a rock Dersollin hadn’t noticed before and removed the mask of his white jade boar helmet, revealing a cragged, chiseled brown face.
“Soldiers of the Realm!” he barked, and Dersollin felt the ground shake underneath him as the deep voice echoed from nothing. “We stand against Grasula, the Devourer of Seven Hopes! We will not let her armies pass any further! We will not let them pillage our homes, nor let them feast on our families!”
Dersollin could almost taste the porridge his wife always made for their son. His stomach grumbled. He should have eaten more this morning.
The general stabbed one end of his staff into the ground. “This is where we stop these monsters!”
He yanked the staff back out, a lump of granite now encasing its end. He twirled it in one hand and stabbed the other end down. “No more, no further! By the Dragons, and for the Realm!”
He yanked again on his staff, this time pulling free an end beset in jagged obsidian shards. He turned to face the distant army and raised his staff just in time for a small boulder arcing from the far woods to hit him on the forehead with a loud crack of stone on stone.
All around Dersollin soldiers took a half step back as the general stumbled.
But though he faltered, he did not go down, and soon readjusted his helmet, setting the mask back into place.
“By the Dragons!” he repeated, ”And for the Realm!”
He began to slowly march forwards. Drums started playing. As one, Dersollin and the spear phalanx around him fell into step and followed their exalted leader towards their foes.
Dersollin couldn’t wait to tell his son about this glorious victory over dinner.
It was an odd thought to have at this time, Dersollin decided when he wondered if his son had had dinner yet. He hadn’t seen the boy in months, probably wouldn’t for another few. Actually, he’d probably never see him again, he couldn’t help but admit to himself as he steadied his grip on his shield. They’d said there were buck ogres in the enemy force.
Besides him, Norrin and Harginel likewise shifted their holds on the shields, the latter shivering in the cold rain. Even the shield held above her from behind could only offer so much shelter from the elements. The clouds had darkened back when they’d begun ranking up an hour ago, and by now they stood nearly ankle deep in mud.
“What’s there to parley for?” a voice from somewhere behind Dersollin grumbled over the noise of rain on shields and armor. “Let’s just kill these fairfolk and go home!”
“I thought they were anathema?” another voice spoke up.
Dersollin squinted at the horde waiting between the dark trees across the field. They looked like beastmen, from what he could see in the shadows. His sideways glances were obscured by the shields of their turtle formation, but he really hoped they outnumbered their enemy.
Spears clanking on shields stood taller were the first indication something had changed. The parley had finally ended, their general riding back towards his lines and the frail woman on the shining silver horse hurrying the opposite direction.
When the general stopped his horse just a few yards in front of Dersollin, the soldier heard commotion to his right as the ranks parted to let two adjutants through. One, a young boy, rushed to take his lord’s horse. The other, a lanky man, handed the general his white jade staff.
The ranks closed again as the adjutants left.
Slowly, the general climbed on a rock Dersollin hadn’t noticed before and removed the mask of his white jade boar helmet, revealing a cragged, chiseled brown face.
“Soldiers of the Realm!” he barked, and Dersollin felt the ground shake underneath him as the deep voice echoed from nothing. “We stand against Grasula, the Devourer of Seven Hopes! We will not let her armies pass any further! We will not let them pillage our homes, nor let them feast on our families!”
Dersollin could almost taste the porridge his wife always made for their son. His stomach grumbled. He should have eaten more this morning.
The general stabbed one end of his staff into the ground. “This is where we stop these monsters!”
He yanked the staff back out, a lump of granite now encasing its end. He twirled it in one hand and stabbed the other end down. “No more, no further! By the Dragons, and for the Realm!”
He yanked again on his staff, this time pulling free an end beset in jagged obsidian shards. He turned to face the distant army and raised his staff just in time for a small boulder arcing from the far woods to hit him on the forehead with a loud crack of stone on stone.
All around Dersollin soldiers took a half step back as the general stumbled.
But though he faltered, he did not go down, and soon readjusted his helmet, setting the mask back into place.
“By the Dragons!” he repeated, ”And for the Realm!”
He began to slowly march forwards. Drums started playing. As one, Dersollin and the spear phalanx around him fell into step and followed their exalted leader towards their foes.
Dersollin couldn’t wait to tell his son about this glorious victory over dinner.
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