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Post by Raiku on Oct 30, 2008 8:19:06 GMT -8
Simply brilliant.
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Post by Zeffa! on Jan 16, 2009 7:38:54 GMT -8
Here's a little something I wrote up.
Within the small lodge, encircled around a fire sat many young men, and a few young women, dressed in leathers and hides. Aside from that, there were very few similarities between them. Some were broad-shouldered boys who looked like they could pull a cart faster than a team of mules, some were lean and limber with the poise of a gymnast. However, few of them looked as if they lived a life of comfort and luxury, there were none wearing silks and fine jewelry, none grossly overweight nor "fashionably" underweight. Some carried greensteel axes, some wooden staves, spears, or bows. One brute of a boy carried no weapon, but the scars across his knuckles told people he still sat well-armed. Despite their differences, the men and women who sat staring at the fire in the center were disciplined, and they were strong.
The heat of the fire could be felt throughout the entirety of the lodge, the smoke rising and leaving through a carefully crafted vent in the sturdy wooden roof. Hides and weapons lined the walls, as well as scripts from a language that few could read, written in vellum and pinned to the wall, hanging like tapestries. Between two such hangings stood a doorway, obscured only by a hide of a large white-haired animal.
A man stepped out form behind this doorway, gently pushing aside the leather hide that kept heat and privacy from the main hall. His clothing appeared much different than that of the young men and women who sat encircled before him. He wore a strange overcoat made of cloth dyed olive-green, ripped and torn from what appeared to be years and years of wear. At the arms and elbows it appeared to have been reinforced with leather, and slashes decorated it across the back and around the arms, indicating it'd been in many combats over its lifetime. His pants seemed normal, with the exception of similar leather armor patches sewn on, likewise with the occasional tear dotting its surface.
The man had long, thick brown hair which was kept out of his eyes by a blood-red bandanna, tied like a headband around his forehead. Upon his chin grew a healthy beard, although above that not much but lengthy stubble appeared, revealing his youth. Nevertheless he did appear to be at least ten years older than the men and women who sat before him, and stood with the air of authority and confidence of an experienced leader.
In each hand he held an unusual item. In his right hand, a greataxe made of greensteel, and crafted masterfully in a fashion that no smith from their time had the means to create. Runes decorated its shimmering surface, which sent light reflecting from the fire dancing across the walls of the lodge. Clenched in the man's left hand, a bundle of blood-red strips of cloth. It was this hand that he raised, showing them prominently to the group of youths who so carefully watched him.
"You've trained hard, all of you have. You've made me proud, I've never taught a group with the level of discipline you've shown me," Reuben said in a rough, rumbling voice. He took a few steps closer to the fire. "Each of you, in your own way, displayed strength and endurance, courage and integrity. Some of you may have come here intially for selfish reasons, or for no reason at all, but those who I've called to sit here tonight are those of you with purpose and honor." Keeping the hand with the red cloth raised, he took the heavy axe and with one hand, lifted it to point at the group. "Do you know why we mark ourselves with these? It isn't simply a badge of accomplishment. It's not a sign that we show off to friends, it's a warning. Animals of the wild will mark themselves with bright colors, to tell others that they are dangerous, that to try and hunt them will be an endeavor that they would soon regret." Reuben lowered his axe, and stared into the fire with an unwavering gaze.
"It is also the color of blood, both that of our enemies and our own. I've trained you all to fight, to survive, and to kill when necessary. You've made yourself strong, and you've dedicated yourself to the task just as I did when I was your age."
"The blood you shed will be for your friends and community. You bleed so they don't have to, you've been made strong so they might live a life of safety. In your training, you've each had to endure pain and danger. You've experienced what it's like, and know how to react to it. You're not afraid of the sight of your own blood, and wear it as a badge of honor."
"The blood color also symbolizes the blood of your enemies, which you will stain your hands with over the length of your lifetime. I warned you that by the end of your training you will be something not human, something closer to a demon." He pauses a moment, to stare up from the flames. "You've been told that to kill another man is an act of evil. Even for as good of a cause as to save countless lives, to take a life is an act that many people cannot bring themselves to do. With every kill, with every life you take in defense of your friends and community you stain your hands with blood, their blood, and slowly train yourself to become nothing but a weapon, a tool that others use for protection. It requires alot of sacrifice to take a life, a sacrifice that most people cannot make. But you all have already demonstrated that you can make that sacrifice."
"Stand up and recieve your bandannas," Reuben said sternly. "They are your signature, your promise written in your blood, and the blood of others, that you will show people the right way to use a weapon. Never let someone use you, you must always know what you're fighting for. You are not soldiers, you are guardians. You live to protect what you'd die for."
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As the students leave, each now bearing the blood-mark of their journey, Reuben sits down, staring into the fire solemnly, hardly feeling the heat of the flames anymore.
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