Post by The Stranger on Jul 22, 2008 19:48:41 GMT -5
Willam Dondarrion rode at the head of his column. His horse trotted briskly along, and with every movement Willam felt the pain wrack throughout his entire body. The column had been riding for weeks in order to make it on time to accompany the forces at Crakehall. With every step he could here the sound of the steel chainmail he wore scrape against the white plates of the armor that adorned his entire body.
For Willam the news of the impending threat had come at precisely the wrong time. He and his lady-wife had just recently been wed, and while things were going rather smoothly his shyness mixed with hers wasn’t helping to bring them together. She would often shy away from him late at night, and although it upset him he did not hate her for it. He had never been the most charming man, or even the handsomest. Willam had never been very popular with women, and no matter how strong he may be in the tourney yard a beautiful face and long flowing hair would best him every time.
Despite all this he felt as if the gap between him and her was lessening everyday. He was starting to win her over if only just a little every day. Even with a soft compliment or whisper, each day he felt as though she could some day come to love him.
Willam turned his head and glanced back at the rider’s in his column. It looked as though they were all as tired as he was. He turned to Kaland Stone and gave a soft nod of his head.
Kaland Stone nodded back, and after a slight pause Willam heard Kaland Stone yell, “Hold”.
Willam turned himself around and spoke back to his men, “We camp here for the night.”
Dismounting from his horse he continued to speak, “I want ten man watches posted in both the front and back of the column, with twenty man patrols monitoring the woods to the north and south of us.”
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After his tent had been erected and he had taken further defensive measures to ensure that the camp was safe, he sat his great helm next to him and Willam reclined against an old tree surveying the scene before him. The men looked scared. The men were not openly scared, but Willam could see deep down inside each one of them the fear of what was to come. In the past months their homeland had been devastated with war. Not just their homeland, but also his own. Now they went to face this new threat, which had left almost every man who had come before it in ruins. This war, which had left fathers without sons, had taken husbands from their wives, and had crippled the land itself with its needless bloodshed. Willam was scared too. He had fought before but never like this. He had never been expected to lead men, to lead men in a battle that would probably claim many of their lives and perhaps even his own. He heard a soft rustling of leaves next to him as Kaland Stone took a seat on the moist earth below him.
He started to speak “I don’t even have to look at you to know something’s wrong Willam.”
Kaland’s pale blue eyes, and dark black hair clung to his forehead as he looked on ahead seeming almost uncaring with his words.
Willam replied trying not to let his nervousness get the best of him. “You know me Kaland just worrying. Nervous as always.”
Willam leaned further back against the hard tree trunk he sat against. “I’ve led men before but never like this. How can I expect them to follow me into a war that may cost them their lives, or their families’ lives? Who’s to say someone doesn’t attack their homes and their children, while we are away fighting someone who has no right to be here to begin with.”
Willam started to speak, but he found himself interrupted right before he began. “Justice, loyalty, passion, honor…some men fight for these things, others serve those who seem to embody these things. Who are you Willam, why do you fight. Do you choose to fight for another man’s ambition’s, your people, or do you fight for virtues higher than any man”?
Ahead of him Willam saw a young man bustling about with various camping equipment. He seemed to fumble here and there not knowing entirely what to do as though his mind were hundreds of miles away from here. In his heart he knew it was time for the moral encouragement these men needed before the hell that awaited them. He hoped Kaland also remembered to use tourney weapons, so this would not be his last spot of “moral encouragement”.
Willam got up donning his helmet as he rose. His emotions were somewhere else but deep down inside he knew what must be done. He needed to show his men he was not afraid, that the thrill of the upcoming battle excited him.
He turned to Kaland and spoke. “Pick up your sword it’s time we show these boy’s how real patriots are expected to fight a war.”
Kaland Stone rose from his spot donned his longsword, and shield and placed his great helm upon his head. He banged his sword against his shield, noticeably loud enough so that it wrung for the whole crowd to hear, as Willam drew his sword from the scabbard at his waist.
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They circled each other for what seemed like an eternity before the first stroke fell. Kaland’s feet moved as quickly as a viper as he kicked a patch of dirt upward into Willam’s face. Despite his helmet the dirt penetrated Willam’s helmet and obstructed his view for a split second. His vision cleared, and he saw the stroke coming hard on his left side. He got up and was able to block it just in time, before it came clashing against his helmet.
Feeling his strength start to build Willam slid Kaland’s sword away from his own and came in for a swift overhead strike.
Kaland quickly jumped out of the way, and rattled his practice longsword against Willam’s armor in a backward slash. Despite the steel encasing his body Willam could feel the blow hit him.
Willam felt his fury build. Not from the pain, but from the mystery in his life. The same questions kept arising time and time again “what did he fight for? Why fight at all? Why care for anyone but yourself? He didn’t know.
He turned to see Kaland charging at him obviously intending for a finishing blow in the exposed stance he used. Willam parried his sword with a hard counter, and he could feel the strength flee from Kaland’s sword arm as his sword flew to his side as he only slightly held onto it. Willam let loose a flurry of blows upon Kaland’s shield, and with everyone a different emotion was let loose. He thought of those he loved, his people, his wife, his home, his lord and cousin. Each reason, while it felt right in itself was entirely wrong, and each blow pushed Kaland Stone further and further back. On the final blow his sword came crashing down, and he could hear the sound of shattering wood as Kaland Stone’s shield split down the center.
Kaland fell backward, and held up his hand under a visored helm. Willam could feel the anger boiling within him, and he could hear the roar of the soldiers around him.
Willam helped Kaland up as he removed his helmet. Kaland looked around slowly and then spoke into the crowd of excited men. “I hope you all take a lesson from your Lord Willam, and hope he stands next to you during the upcoming battle.”
Willam quickly responded following Kaland’s own speech, “In the coming days when you stand side by side with your brothers on the battlefield, ask yourself why do you fight? Think of your families and the fate that awaits them should you fail in driving these foul whoresons from your land?” Think of all this and more when you fight, and you will all fight with ten times the strength of any foreign man.”
Willam stared blankly ahead watching the young boy in front of him that had been previously erecting his tent. He was now smiling as a soldier next to him clapped him on the soldiers.
Willam walked away to the cheers of his men. He looked at Kaland and blankly the words escaped from his mouth; none of the emotion present, which he previously displayed. “Why do you fight Kaland”?
Kaland’s head turned and as he gazed at Willam a sly smile curled on his lips. “Willam, I fight for me”
What I was striving for
Willam Dondarrion improves towards master Longsword (Expert+)
Willam improves to Expert Battle
Kaland Stone improves to Expert Sword
Kaland imrpvoes to Noteworthy battle