The below is an in character post on behalf of Hamsa Garmand, a half-elven marshall.
Today was a bad day. Not that it was the first time I had seen death on the field of battle. It was not the first time I had seen an elf fall beneath the blade of an orc. It was not the second time that I had won the field of battle, but lost the engagement.
No, today reminded me of the life I left behind so many years ago, the life I had thought left behind in an orc prisoner of war camp. A life that I never excelled at.
My mother was the great general, and I was just living in her shadow. She was the tactical genius, the one that could bring victory from the jaws of defeat. Instead, I just deliver defeat from the jaws of victory.
A friend of mine died today. He died in a pointless battle, a battle that had been lost the moment we were ambushed. We, no, I had grown complacent. We had won, we had achieved the objective. We were on our way to claim our prize, and await further missions from our new benefactor.
Instead, I sit here, in the middle of nowhere, keeping a vigil over a dead friend. I should have seen it coming. A woman standing in the middle of the road, a choke point, with a hill on one side, perfect cover for snipers, and a forest on the other, no place to run. So, instead, we tried to talk, and it only allowed them to perfect their aim. The first few seconds were deadly, with arrows and spells raining from the hillside as we desperately tried to escape the mass of horse flesh that was rendered by the magical webbing.
I should have used that moment as a rallying point, brought us out of the ambush with the stakes in our favor, not theirs. Instead, I ran, and hid, like a mere recruit, not the major I once was, or the general my mother was. No, I did not attempt to rally until the fight was lost, and even then it did little good. Sure, it saved one, but at the cost of another, and the mission. Was it worth it?
Was it worth losing two to save one? Did it even have to come to that?
No, on both counts. But, there is a small silver lining. Where once was a group divided, on the verge of rupture, there is now a group united by experience in battle. Instead of a near blood feud, instead there is review, and tactics, and a newfound sense of frailty, and the yearning to not let a friend die in vain.
So, here's to you, my friend, my kinsman, here's to you.
May the light shine softly through the branches, and may you find peace in the land of our ansestors.
Monday, October 10, 2005
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