Lye
11-17-14, 03:38 PM
2014th Summer, 6th Moon, Day 10
“See here rookies,” General Anahk’thiem barked in elvish as he paced down the line of youths barely out of adulthood. “The title of Sky Knight is no laughing matter. We are the shields that protect our people and our cities. We are the blades that cut down anyone who threatens our way of life. And we are the reason our kind has endured several wars and our cities still stand!”
The General continued his ritualistic ramblings that all newbloods had to endure. As he did, his rigid posture, two hands behind his back, and clanking plate mail passed a pair of these youths who eyed one another with naivety in their eyes. When the General made it to the end of the row, the elven boy of golden blonde hair turned stiffly to another.
“Did you hear?” he whispered while trying to preserve as much of his posture as possible. “Anahk’thiem’s grandfather was one of the forward advance in the Demon Wars when he was our age. Rumor says he flayed countless demons on his blade.”
The boy who stood beside him darted his eyes to the other. The blonde had him hooked, but could tell by his uncompromising stance he worried about being caught. The blonde didn’t share the same concern and continued.
“Said that after weeks under waves and waves of the beasts, he snapped and started collecting ears and fingers of his enemies. Spooky, right?!” His enthusiasm carried too far and to pointy ears that were not intended to hear.
“Recruit Euthaine!” the general roared. Some boys jumped at the volume, others broke posture, and several eyes snapped to the blonde in question. The general spun on his heel and began a firm stride back down the line. The private snapped straighter than an arrow’s shaft.
“Would you care to share with the group?” the general continued, now nose to nose with the recruit. Fear sparkled in the youth’s eyes where the innocence and intrigue once shone bright.
“I-I was just t-telling--”
“Speak up boy! Don’t go losing your spine now!” Each sentence caused the recruit to flinch.
“I was telling Recruit Orland about your ancestor’s service in the Demon Wars, sir!” His youthful elvish voice paled in comparison to the commanding, guttural roar of his superior.
Still just hairs away from the recruit, the General cracked a smile that would curdle milk. He took a step back to address the others.
“You mean the heads, ears, and fingers my grandfather kept as mementos from that bloody conflict?” Anahk’thiem’s stern tones devolved from strictly professional to uncomfortably informal. Euthaine hesitated but nodded in a display that looked like a full body quiver. The general’s smile stretched ear to pointed ear.
“Yes,” the superior began, leaning forward, “and he told me he enjoyed each and every min--”
The general stopped mid sentence, his eyes wide and seasoned features twisted from amused to utter horror. He staggered back and clawed at his plated chest with mithril gauntlets.
The recruits looked to one another in a panic, then to the general. They teetered on breaking formation or risk falling into a ruse. Compelled more by his empathy than fear, Euthaine stepped forward with arms reaching out his superior.
“General?!” he inquired. The soft chatter of the other recruits grew louder. The elven veteran continued to rend mythril on mythril with mouth open, tongue out, and eyes rolling back.
“General Anahk’thiem!” This time louder. Euthaine gripped the man by the arm and then it happened.
Like a sack of Salvan potatoes, Anahk’thiem collapsed and ceased to move. Euthaine stood in shock with arm out and hand open where the warm touch on his fingers still remained.
“Medic!” shouted a voice in the crowd, but by the time help arrived, it was too late.
“See here rookies,” General Anahk’thiem barked in elvish as he paced down the line of youths barely out of adulthood. “The title of Sky Knight is no laughing matter. We are the shields that protect our people and our cities. We are the blades that cut down anyone who threatens our way of life. And we are the reason our kind has endured several wars and our cities still stand!”
The General continued his ritualistic ramblings that all newbloods had to endure. As he did, his rigid posture, two hands behind his back, and clanking plate mail passed a pair of these youths who eyed one another with naivety in their eyes. When the General made it to the end of the row, the elven boy of golden blonde hair turned stiffly to another.
“Did you hear?” he whispered while trying to preserve as much of his posture as possible. “Anahk’thiem’s grandfather was one of the forward advance in the Demon Wars when he was our age. Rumor says he flayed countless demons on his blade.”
The boy who stood beside him darted his eyes to the other. The blonde had him hooked, but could tell by his uncompromising stance he worried about being caught. The blonde didn’t share the same concern and continued.
“Said that after weeks under waves and waves of the beasts, he snapped and started collecting ears and fingers of his enemies. Spooky, right?!” His enthusiasm carried too far and to pointy ears that were not intended to hear.
“Recruit Euthaine!” the general roared. Some boys jumped at the volume, others broke posture, and several eyes snapped to the blonde in question. The general spun on his heel and began a firm stride back down the line. The private snapped straighter than an arrow’s shaft.
“Would you care to share with the group?” the general continued, now nose to nose with the recruit. Fear sparkled in the youth’s eyes where the innocence and intrigue once shone bright.
“I-I was just t-telling--”
“Speak up boy! Don’t go losing your spine now!” Each sentence caused the recruit to flinch.
“I was telling Recruit Orland about your ancestor’s service in the Demon Wars, sir!” His youthful elvish voice paled in comparison to the commanding, guttural roar of his superior.
Still just hairs away from the recruit, the General cracked a smile that would curdle milk. He took a step back to address the others.
“You mean the heads, ears, and fingers my grandfather kept as mementos from that bloody conflict?” Anahk’thiem’s stern tones devolved from strictly professional to uncomfortably informal. Euthaine hesitated but nodded in a display that looked like a full body quiver. The general’s smile stretched ear to pointed ear.
“Yes,” the superior began, leaning forward, “and he told me he enjoyed each and every min--”
The general stopped mid sentence, his eyes wide and seasoned features twisted from amused to utter horror. He staggered back and clawed at his plated chest with mithril gauntlets.
The recruits looked to one another in a panic, then to the general. They teetered on breaking formation or risk falling into a ruse. Compelled more by his empathy than fear, Euthaine stepped forward with arms reaching out his superior.
“General?!” he inquired. The soft chatter of the other recruits grew louder. The elven veteran continued to rend mythril on mythril with mouth open, tongue out, and eyes rolling back.
“General Anahk’thiem!” This time louder. Euthaine gripped the man by the arm and then it happened.
Like a sack of Salvan potatoes, Anahk’thiem collapsed and ceased to move. Euthaine stood in shock with arm out and hand open where the warm touch on his fingers still remained.
“Medic!” shouted a voice in the crowd, but by the time help arrived, it was too late.