A small piece of gore has lodged itself in the fine weave of my eleven chain. I
sit now in the armory of the The Grove in my acolytes tunic attempting to
dislodge this piece of enemy filth from my armament as the comfort of the night
approaches.
The Grove itself is alive with sound and activity as I clear away the debris of
bone splinters from my battle tested regiment. Nation members prepare for the
hunt and other activities having just lost an engagement to a new foe. These
Circle of City warriors are nothing special to my own eyes. Another collection
of warriors seeking greatness through shear weight of numbers, but no great
skill or prowess do they show in battle, just many weapons bent in a single
direction to achieve some unknown goal.
I finish my chore and hang the last of my now cleaned battle gear in its proper
place when the moment re-plays itself again in my mind.
The edge
The precipitous
The opportunity
Every battle has one
every engagement hangs by this single moment of choice
to lead
to follow
to enact the plan of battle
or ignore your orders for
personal glory
or personal fear.
The moment was there
the victory in our grasp
As I stood alone on the far
side of the mine tower and watched my nation members chewed to pieces
unable
to assist them as they fell quickly to the enemies blades and spells, I think to
myself in that small moment of how we, now only I, have the superior position.
Of how we have them trapped between two opposing forces. Of how with Braiallas
blessings in play our warriors could now be hewing, instead of hewed
If only they would follow
The plan of attack was clear
Follow my lead my nations members, I will die so
that you may live ... if you but follow for a few precious moments
We will
arrive in a tactically advantageous position
By Braialla's Breasts I swear
this
If only
Lost in these thoughts the disappointment truly sets in
I am alone on this
shard
the mighty Lok-ri reduced to a feeble old Priest in a nation of lessers.
My cousins
My daughter
My only love
My goddess
As the thoughts boil inside me I start to walk into the comfort of the newly
darkening sky. I find myself at the gates of The Grove and I walk through their
solid elven construction. I glance at them as I depart and remember my lost home
on the Shard of Death.
The past is my present
The future is
*Though several Grove members speak to the old elf as he walks through the gates
of The Grove, he seems deep in thought. He walks out the gates and begins to
head north down an old hunting trail.
hoth@stormbringer.net
Updated Feb 2006
Copy write Scott Lindquist