CHAPTER 1
A mist had rolled off the river Vandas in the early evening. It had thinned since then, but it was still impossible to see the banks of the river from the deck of the small, river-going barge. Slowly it traversed the giant river, propelled by four river Oarsmen with long paddles. As they expertly manoeuvred the small vessel they shot fleeting glances at the fifth man on the boats deck, standing near the prow. However they quickly returned to their work, as though frightened to meet his gaze.
He was tall and thin, but his ropy muscles belied his strength. The thin of a man who worked too hard and ate too little. He had dark black hair cut in an Estorian style, but bright blue eyes, which spoke of his Saelsic father. His face was young but his haunted eyes spoke of experience. This man had seen too much. A longer hand-and-a-half sword and a shorter blade hung at his sides. Both were of exceptional craftsmanship and were half hidden by his cloak, embroidered upon this cloak was an intricate design of a wolf snarling at a white dove. The man was not, though command was in his bearing, the captain of the barge. In his grimy hand he clutched a roll of parchment like it had dealt him some personal injury.
Suddenly, and to the evident surprise of the barge’s mate. A massive castle wall reared up out of the mist. With a curse the barge’s captain leaped from below decks, “Back paddle you slovenly dogs, BACK PADDLE!” He roared, advancing down the deck, “I will not be commander of the third crew to crash into the gates of Castor!” as the crew responded the passenger stared up of the huge portcullis that went right down to the water. One of the many entrances to the largest city in The Saelsican Empire. Normally it would be open, but now it was both too late and too early for any serious trade so the gate was barred and locked. A guard popped up from above the battlements of the wall. It was hard to see from this distance but, from his slumped shoulders, he seemed both tired and irritated.
“Hail barge,” he called down to the vessel, “Why ya’ bothering the gates of Castor in the middle of the night?”
“Transporting a fare,” the captain yelled back, “The vessel is the Mirela”
There was silence for a second then the guard instructed, “Wait till morn, someone will let you through then.”
The captain looked annoyed but was about to roar his affirmative when the passenger at the prow of the boat shouted…
“That’s unacceptable!”
He held up the crumpled roll of parchment and continued, “This is a sealed letter, from the emperor, demanding my immediate audience,” He smiled slightly, “Perhaps you would like to go against the emperor’s word?”
There was silence for a second. Then the guard, uncertain now, called “And who might you be?”
“Caleb, of the Grey Knights” he paused, confident; “Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”
“Caleb? Yes, you’re expected, dock 19 sir,” Another guard had appeared. This one was wearing the livery of the emperor’s personal men. He yelled something to
someone on the other side of the wall and the gates slowly began to move upwards in measured degrees, each one being accompanied by a loud clunk. Caleb was suddenly uncomfortable. He was expected? One of the emperor’s personal guards had come to let him in the gate? And how had he even known he was here? He had made record time from Grynon.
As the gates cranked up, the captain of the Mirela walked up to the prow where Caleb was standing. Caleb shifted slightly to show he knew the captain was there. “Sir” the Captain barked, slightly too quickly for a man supposedly at ease, “I was wondering whether we should be ready...for anything?” Caleb made no response and the captain chuckled uncomfortably, “It’s just you didn’t seem too happy...’bout being called back”
Caleb sighed. He suddenly seemed tired and older than his years, “I wasn’t... I’m not,” his face became creased by irritation. “To answer your question” he said staring up above portcullis of Castor to the battlements, “I have no idea what’s waiting for me” He glanced at the captain, “But it’s waiting for me, not you”.
The captain nodded slowly. “Thank you sir,” he said quietly, respect in his voice, “I’ll inform the crew.”
He turned and moved away, leaving Caleb to watch the Docks of the Upper Side come into view through the mist. As they did a small gang of street children, startled by the barges emergence, fled from the end of one of the docks. Caleb shook his head and moved back into the barge to retrieve his rucksack. It had already been a long day.
Down a dark alley on the West side of Castor, also known as the poor half, Viviane crept. Hunger gnawed at her, pulling at her mind. This was no ordinary hunger. This was a debilitating, stomach swelling hunger that one only acquires through long term starvation and malnutrition.
Vaguely Valeria remembered when she hadn’t been hungry. But that was a distant memory now. Her family had been driven into poverty by the taxes levied to build the new castle after the old one had begun to sink into Castor’s marshy ground. She caught a glimpse of it now through the fog that was beginning to lift with morning.
But again her hunger distracted her, driving all else from her mind. A rat scurried past and Viviane lunged for it but missed. It sprinted away and she watched it go. Too much effort for too little gain.
Normally Valeria would be with her street gang. Today however she was picking through the alleys of Castor alone. She had survived 16 winters, and with her age came a need for more food. As she had begun to eat more, her gang had come to see her as greedy, and so they fell upon the food early. Rarely if ever leaving anything for her. Today of all days she needed her strength.
A back alley inn was beginning to open in spite of the early hour. An elderly woman was cleaning the front porch with a stiff broom of bound straw. She lifted her head as Valeria walked past, “Whore…” she muttered under her breath. Viviane’s dark hair fell in front of her eyes. A dull rage filled her, a rage with no target. She continued quickly past the woman. Her attitude was not unique. At Valeria’s age few girls still remained as street orphans. No, what stung most was the fact that given another winter. The woman’s words might be true.
She had barely survived last winter. Barely! And now her gang had begun the process of throwing her out, she would have even less chance. Today was Dalnoch’Bar, the day in which merchants and craftsman came to the city in order to find willing apprentices. It was also the exact middle of autumn. Soon the first snows would begin to fall and then Viviane would have little option but to find shelter in one of the cities brothels.
She stepped out onto one of the main roads of Castor, there were twelve in total. All named after ancient deities and creatures. This one was the street of the Goddess, deity of death. Already there were people around. A priest walked past and looked down his nose at her. She glared right back; he was one of the newer additions to the city. A priest of the largest religion in the Saelsican Empire. It had had a big boost in popularity recently when the Emperor had begun to worship with them. Viviane, and all the street orphans, hated them. They preached everlasting peace and love then took what little money the poor of this city had.
She didn’t stay to hear his chastisement or insult but instead stepped into a side alley. Her hunger once again growled in her stomach. Suddenly she saw something at the end of the alley and leaped instinctively. Half a loaf of bread, very stale, but almost no mould. As she ate it she considered her situation. Today was her last chance. No chance at all.
Caleb sat in a horse drawn carriage stewing slightly. On either side two Emperors Guards loomed. Caleb didn’t recognise either of them. A familiar anger was building inside him. He had been met at Dock 19 by a large company of emperor’s guards. They had said that that Lenencio, the king’s advisor, requested his presence. Requested … with a company of guards ... Emperor’s Guards. They were only supposed to follow the direct orders of the king himself. So what was Lenencio doing ordering them around like his chamber maids?
Caleb ground his teeth together as they passed one of the cities new churches. The Church of Angelic Divinity, Lenencio was a member. And an important one too. The emperor had always leaned towards the teachings of the Church but had never directly supported them until a few years ago. He had been sick and had called for a spiritual advisor from the church. Lenencio had come and when the king recovered, he attributed his recovery to Lenencio. The Emperor had then made Lenencio his advisor. Recently Caleb had heard rumours that the emperor had been granting him more and more power. He had dismissed those rumours. Now he found them hard to ignore.
The carriage began to clatter over the draw bridge and Caleb glanced out at the huge castle. As he always did he both marvelled at its architectural brilliance and flinched at its exorbitant cost. It had been the previous emperor, Bernic XI, whom had ordered its construction after the old one had begun to sink into the marshy ground. The castle was actually suspended above the delta where the river split in two. One branch continued to the sea and the port city Grynon. The other split to the marshland which covered most of the coast of The Saelsican Empire. Huge stone pillars were apparently sunk into the bedrock beneath the river, though Caleb had no idea how that had been done. The Castle itself was gigantic. Huge stone walls rose high above the rest of the city. Turrets and parapets could be seen rising even higher than those. The castle’s design meant that siege engines could hit almost any target within 10 leagues. Its superlative design combined with the river Vandas forming a natural moat meant that this castle was the most defensible in the world.
Caleb started as the carriage ground to a sudden halt.“We’re here.” grunted a guard. He seized Caleb’s arm in order to haul him out of the carriage. The anger that Caleb had felt since he had entered this Goddess forsaken carriage suddenly flared.
With lightning speed he reached down and seized the guard’s wrist with both hands. He twisted and the guard’s wrist broke nastily at the joint. Caleb then pushed him out of the carriage. Caleb stepped calmly out, as the guard rolled on the floor clutching his ruined wrist, only to find a pikestaff levelled at his face. He was surrounded by imperial guards all holding their long weapons with the blades pointed at him.
“And what,” hissed Caleb, his voice silky and dangerous, “do you think you’re doing?”
The guards shuffled uncomfortably. One spoke up, “Sir, you attacked a emperor’s guard…”
Caleb took a step forward, pushing the guards Pikestaff out of the way, “He lay a hand on a Grey Knight” tutored Caleb as though talking to the very stupid, “by law he should be dead.”
Caleb glanced back at the guard. He was now curled in the foetal position around his broken wrist. “I’ll let him off with a warning this time.”
Caleb pushed past the guards. He began to walk through the huge iron gates of the castle. He had made it twenty feet when a voice hailed him. “Sir, SIR!” Caleb paused as an out of breath courtier arrived next to him breathlessly, from where he had been waiting near the carriage. “I’m supposed to lead you to the Chancellor…”
“Chancellor!?” shock immediately wiped away Caleb’s anger, “When was Lenencio made Chancellor?”
“Only yesterday!” the courtier seemed pleased, “First to be elected to that position in…”
“…150 years, yes…” Caleb was subdued as he considered the implications. Being Chancellor meant that Lenencio had the full powers of the emperor, there was no other heir to the throne! If that remained the case… He could also give orders to the king’s guards, which explained the welcome he had received. Suddenly Caleb halted mid-step.
As Chancellor, Lenencio could also give orders to him.
Orders which could only be counteracted by the Emperor himself.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Chapter One - Caleb
CHAPTER 1
A mist had rolled off the river Vandas in the early evening. It had thinned since then, but it was still impossible to see the banks of the river from the deck of the small, river-going barge. Slowly it traversed the giant river, propelled by four river Oarsmen with long paddles. As they expertly manoeuvred the small vessel they shot fleeting glances at the fifth man on the boats deck, standing near the prow. However they quickly returned to their work, as though frightened to meet his gaze.
He was tall and thin, but his ropy muscles belied his strength. The thin of a man who worked too hard and ate too little. He had dark black hair cut in an Estorian style, but bright blue eyes, which spoke of his Saelsic father. His face was young but his haunted eyes spoke of experience. This man had seen too much. A longer hand-and-a-half sword and a shorter blade hung at his sides. Both were of exceptional craftsmanship and were half hidden by his cloak, embroidered upon this cloak was an intricate design of a wolf snarling at a white dove. The man was not, though command was in his bearing, the captain of the barge. In his grimy hand he clutched a roll of parchment like it had dealt him some personal injury.
Suddenly, and to the evident surprise of the barge’s mate. A massive castle wall reared up out of the mist. With a curse the barge’s captain leaped from below decks, “Back paddle you slovenly dogs, BACK PADDLE!” He roared, advancing down the deck, “I will not be commander of the third crew to crash into the gates of Castor!” as the crew responded the passenger stared up of the huge portcullis that went right down to the water. One of the many entrances to the largest city in The Saelsican Empire. Normally it would be open, but now it was both too late and too early for any serious trade so the gate was barred and locked. A guard popped up from above the battlements of the wall. It was hard to see from this distance but, from his slumped shoulders, he seemed both tired and irritated.
“Hail barge,” he called down to the vessel, “Why ya’ bothering the gates of Castor in the middle of the night?”
“Transporting a fare,” the captain yelled back, “The vessel is the Mirela”
There was silence for a second then the guard instructed, “Wait till morn, someone will let you through then.”
The captain looked annoyed but was about to roar his affirmative when the passenger at the prow of the boat shouted…
“That’s unacceptable!”
He held up the crumpled roll of parchment and continued, “This is a sealed letter, from the emperor, demanding my immediate audience,” He smiled slightly, “Perhaps you would like to go against the emperor’s word?”
There was silence for a second. Then the guard, uncertain now, called “And who might you be?”
“Caleb, of the Grey Knights” he paused, confident; “Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”
“Caleb? Yes, you’re expected, dock 19 sir,” Another guard had appeared. This one was wearing the livery of the emperor’s personal men. He yelled something to someone on the other side of the wall and the gates slowly began to move upwards in measured degrees, each one being accompanied by a loud clunk. Caleb was suddenly uncomfortable. He was expected? One of the emperor’s personal guards had come to let him in the gate? And how had he even known he was here? He had made record time from Grynon.
As the gates cranked up, the captain of the Mirela walked up to the prow where Caleb was standing. Caleb shifted slightly to show he knew the captain was there. “Sir” the Captain barked, slightly too quickly for a man supposedly at ease, “I was wondering whether we should be ready...for anything?” Caleb made no response and the captain chuckled uncomfortably, “It’s just you didn’t seem too happy...’bout being called back”
Caleb sighed. He suddenly seemed tired and older than his years, “I wasn’t... I’m not,” his face became creased by irritation. “To answer your question” he said staring up above portcullis of Castor to the battlements, “I have no idea what’s waiting for me” He glanced at the captain, “But it’s waiting for me, not you”.
The captain nodded slowly. “Thank you sir,” he said quietly, respect in his voice, “I’ll inform the crew.”
He turned and moved away, leaving Caleb to watch the Docks of the Upper Side come into view through the mist. As they did a small gang of street children, startled by the barges emergence, fled from the end of one of the docks. Caleb shook his head and moved back into the barge to retrieve his rucksack. It had already been a long day.
Down a dark alley on the West side of Castor, also known as the poor half, Viviane crept. Hunger gnawed at her, pulling at her mind. This was no ordinary hunger. This was a debilitating, stomach swelling hunger that one only acquires through long term starvation and malnutrition.
Vaguely Valeria remembered when she hadn’t been hungry. But that was a distant memory now. Her family had been driven into poverty by the taxes levied to build the new castle after the old one had begun to sink into Castor’s marshy ground. She caught a glimpse of it now through the fog that was beginning to lift with morning.
But again her hunger distracted her, driving all else from her mind. A rat scurried past and Viviane lunged for it but missed. It sprinted away and she watched it go. Too much effort for too little gain.
Normally Valeria would be with her street gang. Today however she was picking through the alleys of Castor alone. She had survived 16 winters, and with her age came a need for more food. As she had begun to eat more, her gang had come to see her as greedy, and so they fell upon the food early. Rarely if ever leaving anything for her. Today of all days she needed her strength.
A back alley inn was beginning to open in spite of the early hour. An elderly woman was cleaning the front porch with a stiff broom of bound straw. She lifted her head as Valeria walked past, “Whore…” she muttered under her breath. Viviane’s dark hair fell in front of her eyes. A dull rage filled her, a rage with no target. She continued quickly past the woman. Her attitude was not unique. At Valeria’s age few girls still remained as street orphans. No, what stung most was the fact that given another winter. The woman’s words might be true.
She had barely survived last winter. Barely! And now her gang had begun the process of throwing her out, she would have even less chance. Today was Dalnoch’Bar, the day in which merchants and craftsman came to the city in order to find willing apprentices. It was also the exact middle of autumn. Soon the first snows would begin to fall and then Viviane would have little option but to find shelter in one of the cities brothels.
She stepped out onto one of the main roads of Castor, there were twelve in total. All named after ancient deities and creatures. This one was the street of the Goddess, deity of death. Already there were people around. A priest walked past and looked down his nose at her. She glared right back; he was one of the newer additions to the city. A priest of the largest religion in the Saelsican Empire. It had had a big boost in popularity recently when the Emperor had begun to worship with them. Viviane, and all the street orphans, hated them. They preached everlasting peace and love then took what little money the poor of this city had.
She didn’t stay to hear his chastisement or insult but instead stepped into a side alley. Her hunger once again growled in her stomach. Suddenly she saw something at the end of the alley and leaped instinctively. Half a loaf of bread, very stale, but almost no mould. As she ate it she considered her situation. Today was her last chance. No chance at all.
Caleb sat in a horse drawn carriage stewing slightly. On either side two Emperors Guards loomed. Caleb didn’t recognise either of them. A familiar anger was building inside him. He had been met at Dock 19 by a large company of emperor’s guards. They had said that that Lenencio, the king’s advisor, requested his presence. Requested … with a company of guards ... Emperor’s Guards. They were only supposed to follow the direct orders of the king himself. So what was Lenencio doing ordering them around like his chamber maids?
Caleb ground his teeth together as they passed one of the cities new churches. The Church of Angelic Divinity, Lenencio was a member. And an important one too. The emperor had always leaned towards the teachings of the Church but had never directly supported them until a few years ago. He had been sick and had called for a spiritual advisor from the church. Lenencio had come and when the king recovered, he attributed his recovery to Lenencio. The Emperor had then made Lenencio his advisor. Recently Caleb had heard rumours that the emperor had been granting him more and more power. He had dismissed those rumours. Now he found them hard to ignore.
The carriage began to clatter over the draw bridge and Caleb glanced out at the huge castle. As he always did he both marvelled at its architectural brilliance and flinched at its exorbitant cost. It had been the previous emperor, Bernic XI, whom had ordered its construction after the old one had begun to sink into the marshy ground. The castle was actually suspended above the delta where the river split in two. One branch continued to the sea and the port city Grynon. The other split to the marshland which covered most of the coast of The Saelsican Empire. Huge stone pillars were apparently sunk into the bedrock beneath the river, though Caleb had no idea how that had been done. The Castle itself was gigantic. Huge stone walls rose high above the rest of the city. Turrets and parapets could be seen rising even higher than those. The castle’s design meant that siege engines could hit almost any target within 10 leagues. Its superlative design combined with the river Vandas forming a natural moat meant that this castle was the most defensible in the world.
Caleb started as the carriage ground to a sudden halt.“We’re here.” grunted a guard. He seized Caleb’s arm in order to haul him out of the carriage. The anger that Caleb had felt since he had entered this Goddess forsaken carriage suddenly flared.
With lightning speed he reached down and seized the guard’s wrist with both hands. He twisted and the guard’s wrist broke nastily at the joint. Caleb then pushed him out of the carriage. Caleb stepped calmly out, as the guard rolled on the floor clutching his ruined wrist, only to find a pikestaff levelled at his face. He was surrounded by imperial guards all holding their long weapons with the blades pointed at him.
“And what,” hissed Caleb, his voice silky and dangerous, “do you think you’re doing?”
The guards shuffled uncomfortably. One spoke up, “Sir, you attacked a emperor’s guard…”
Caleb took a step forward, pushing the guards Pikestaff out of the way, “He lay a hand on a Grey Knight” tutored Caleb as though talking to the very stupid, “by law he should be dead.”
Caleb glanced back at the guard. He was now curled in the foetal position around his broken wrist. “I’ll let him off with a warning this time.”
Caleb pushed past the guards. He began to walk through the huge iron gates of the castle. He had made it twenty feet when a voice hailed him. “Sir, SIR!” Caleb paused as an out of breath courtier arrived next to him breathlessly, from where he had been waiting near the carriage. “I’m supposed to lead you to the Chancellor…”
“Chancellor!?” shock immediately wiped away Caleb’s anger, “When was Lenencio made Chancellor?”
“Only yesterday!” the courtier seemed pleased, “First to be elected to that position in…”
“…150 years, yes…” Caleb was subdued as he considered the implications. Being Chancellor meant that Lenencio had the full powers of the emperor, there was no other heir to the throne! If that remained the case… He could also give orders to the king’s guards, which explained the welcome he had received. Suddenly Caleb halted mid-step.
As Chancellor, Lenencio could also give orders to him.
Orders which could only be counteracted by the Emperor himself.
A mist had rolled off the river Vandas in the early evening. It had thinned since then, but it was still impossible to see the banks of the river from the deck of the small, river-going barge. Slowly it traversed the giant river, propelled by four river Oarsmen with long paddles. As they expertly manoeuvred the small vessel they shot fleeting glances at the fifth man on the boats deck, standing near the prow. However they quickly returned to their work, as though frightened to meet his gaze.
He was tall and thin, but his ropy muscles belied his strength. The thin of a man who worked too hard and ate too little. He had dark black hair cut in an Estorian style, but bright blue eyes, which spoke of his Saelsic father. His face was young but his haunted eyes spoke of experience. This man had seen too much. A longer hand-and-a-half sword and a shorter blade hung at his sides. Both were of exceptional craftsmanship and were half hidden by his cloak, embroidered upon this cloak was an intricate design of a wolf snarling at a white dove. The man was not, though command was in his bearing, the captain of the barge. In his grimy hand he clutched a roll of parchment like it had dealt him some personal injury.
Suddenly, and to the evident surprise of the barge’s mate. A massive castle wall reared up out of the mist. With a curse the barge’s captain leaped from below decks, “Back paddle you slovenly dogs, BACK PADDLE!” He roared, advancing down the deck, “I will not be commander of the third crew to crash into the gates of Castor!” as the crew responded the passenger stared up of the huge portcullis that went right down to the water. One of the many entrances to the largest city in The Saelsican Empire. Normally it would be open, but now it was both too late and too early for any serious trade so the gate was barred and locked. A guard popped up from above the battlements of the wall. It was hard to see from this distance but, from his slumped shoulders, he seemed both tired and irritated.
“Hail barge,” he called down to the vessel, “Why ya’ bothering the gates of Castor in the middle of the night?”
“Transporting a fare,” the captain yelled back, “The vessel is the Mirela”
There was silence for a second then the guard instructed, “Wait till morn, someone will let you through then.”
The captain looked annoyed but was about to roar his affirmative when the passenger at the prow of the boat shouted…
“That’s unacceptable!”
He held up the crumpled roll of parchment and continued, “This is a sealed letter, from the emperor, demanding my immediate audience,” He smiled slightly, “Perhaps you would like to go against the emperor’s word?”
There was silence for a second. Then the guard, uncertain now, called “And who might you be?”
“Caleb, of the Grey Knights” he paused, confident; “Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”
“Caleb? Yes, you’re expected, dock 19 sir,” Another guard had appeared. This one was wearing the livery of the emperor’s personal men. He yelled something to someone on the other side of the wall and the gates slowly began to move upwards in measured degrees, each one being accompanied by a loud clunk. Caleb was suddenly uncomfortable. He was expected? One of the emperor’s personal guards had come to let him in the gate? And how had he even known he was here? He had made record time from Grynon.
As the gates cranked up, the captain of the Mirela walked up to the prow where Caleb was standing. Caleb shifted slightly to show he knew the captain was there. “Sir” the Captain barked, slightly too quickly for a man supposedly at ease, “I was wondering whether we should be ready...for anything?” Caleb made no response and the captain chuckled uncomfortably, “It’s just you didn’t seem too happy...’bout being called back”
Caleb sighed. He suddenly seemed tired and older than his years, “I wasn’t... I’m not,” his face became creased by irritation. “To answer your question” he said staring up above portcullis of Castor to the battlements, “I have no idea what’s waiting for me” He glanced at the captain, “But it’s waiting for me, not you”.
The captain nodded slowly. “Thank you sir,” he said quietly, respect in his voice, “I’ll inform the crew.”
He turned and moved away, leaving Caleb to watch the Docks of the Upper Side come into view through the mist. As they did a small gang of street children, startled by the barges emergence, fled from the end of one of the docks. Caleb shook his head and moved back into the barge to retrieve his rucksack. It had already been a long day.
Down a dark alley on the West side of Castor, also known as the poor half, Viviane crept. Hunger gnawed at her, pulling at her mind. This was no ordinary hunger. This was a debilitating, stomach swelling hunger that one only acquires through long term starvation and malnutrition.
Vaguely Valeria remembered when she hadn’t been hungry. But that was a distant memory now. Her family had been driven into poverty by the taxes levied to build the new castle after the old one had begun to sink into Castor’s marshy ground. She caught a glimpse of it now through the fog that was beginning to lift with morning.
But again her hunger distracted her, driving all else from her mind. A rat scurried past and Viviane lunged for it but missed. It sprinted away and she watched it go. Too much effort for too little gain.
Normally Valeria would be with her street gang. Today however she was picking through the alleys of Castor alone. She had survived 16 winters, and with her age came a need for more food. As she had begun to eat more, her gang had come to see her as greedy, and so they fell upon the food early. Rarely if ever leaving anything for her. Today of all days she needed her strength.
A back alley inn was beginning to open in spite of the early hour. An elderly woman was cleaning the front porch with a stiff broom of bound straw. She lifted her head as Valeria walked past, “Whore…” she muttered under her breath. Viviane’s dark hair fell in front of her eyes. A dull rage filled her, a rage with no target. She continued quickly past the woman. Her attitude was not unique. At Valeria’s age few girls still remained as street orphans. No, what stung most was the fact that given another winter. The woman’s words might be true.
She had barely survived last winter. Barely! And now her gang had begun the process of throwing her out, she would have even less chance. Today was Dalnoch’Bar, the day in which merchants and craftsman came to the city in order to find willing apprentices. It was also the exact middle of autumn. Soon the first snows would begin to fall and then Viviane would have little option but to find shelter in one of the cities brothels.
She stepped out onto one of the main roads of Castor, there were twelve in total. All named after ancient deities and creatures. This one was the street of the Goddess, deity of death. Already there were people around. A priest walked past and looked down his nose at her. She glared right back; he was one of the newer additions to the city. A priest of the largest religion in the Saelsican Empire. It had had a big boost in popularity recently when the Emperor had begun to worship with them. Viviane, and all the street orphans, hated them. They preached everlasting peace and love then took what little money the poor of this city had.
She didn’t stay to hear his chastisement or insult but instead stepped into a side alley. Her hunger once again growled in her stomach. Suddenly she saw something at the end of the alley and leaped instinctively. Half a loaf of bread, very stale, but almost no mould. As she ate it she considered her situation. Today was her last chance. No chance at all.
Caleb sat in a horse drawn carriage stewing slightly. On either side two Emperors Guards loomed. Caleb didn’t recognise either of them. A familiar anger was building inside him. He had been met at Dock 19 by a large company of emperor’s guards. They had said that that Lenencio, the king’s advisor, requested his presence. Requested … with a company of guards ... Emperor’s Guards. They were only supposed to follow the direct orders of the king himself. So what was Lenencio doing ordering them around like his chamber maids?
Caleb ground his teeth together as they passed one of the cities new churches. The Church of Angelic Divinity, Lenencio was a member. And an important one too. The emperor had always leaned towards the teachings of the Church but had never directly supported them until a few years ago. He had been sick and had called for a spiritual advisor from the church. Lenencio had come and when the king recovered, he attributed his recovery to Lenencio. The Emperor had then made Lenencio his advisor. Recently Caleb had heard rumours that the emperor had been granting him more and more power. He had dismissed those rumours. Now he found them hard to ignore.
The carriage began to clatter over the draw bridge and Caleb glanced out at the huge castle. As he always did he both marvelled at its architectural brilliance and flinched at its exorbitant cost. It had been the previous emperor, Bernic XI, whom had ordered its construction after the old one had begun to sink into the marshy ground. The castle was actually suspended above the delta where the river split in two. One branch continued to the sea and the port city Grynon. The other split to the marshland which covered most of the coast of The Saelsican Empire. Huge stone pillars were apparently sunk into the bedrock beneath the river, though Caleb had no idea how that had been done. The Castle itself was gigantic. Huge stone walls rose high above the rest of the city. Turrets and parapets could be seen rising even higher than those. The castle’s design meant that siege engines could hit almost any target within 10 leagues. Its superlative design combined with the river Vandas forming a natural moat meant that this castle was the most defensible in the world.
Caleb started as the carriage ground to a sudden halt.“We’re here.” grunted a guard. He seized Caleb’s arm in order to haul him out of the carriage. The anger that Caleb had felt since he had entered this Goddess forsaken carriage suddenly flared.
With lightning speed he reached down and seized the guard’s wrist with both hands. He twisted and the guard’s wrist broke nastily at the joint. Caleb then pushed him out of the carriage. Caleb stepped calmly out, as the guard rolled on the floor clutching his ruined wrist, only to find a pikestaff levelled at his face. He was surrounded by imperial guards all holding their long weapons with the blades pointed at him.
“And what,” hissed Caleb, his voice silky and dangerous, “do you think you’re doing?”
The guards shuffled uncomfortably. One spoke up, “Sir, you attacked a emperor’s guard…”
Caleb took a step forward, pushing the guards Pikestaff out of the way, “He lay a hand on a Grey Knight” tutored Caleb as though talking to the very stupid, “by law he should be dead.”
Caleb glanced back at the guard. He was now curled in the foetal position around his broken wrist. “I’ll let him off with a warning this time.”
Caleb pushed past the guards. He began to walk through the huge iron gates of the castle. He had made it twenty feet when a voice hailed him. “Sir, SIR!” Caleb paused as an out of breath courtier arrived next to him breathlessly, from where he had been waiting near the carriage. “I’m supposed to lead you to the Chancellor…”
“Chancellor!?” shock immediately wiped away Caleb’s anger, “When was Lenencio made Chancellor?”
“Only yesterday!” the courtier seemed pleased, “First to be elected to that position in…”
“…150 years, yes…” Caleb was subdued as he considered the implications. Being Chancellor meant that Lenencio had the full powers of the emperor, there was no other heir to the throne! If that remained the case… He could also give orders to the king’s guards, which explained the welcome he had received. Suddenly Caleb halted mid-step.
As Chancellor, Lenencio could also give orders to him.
Orders which could only be counteracted by the Emperor himself.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Minotaur's Child
The Minotaur moved as stealthily as he was able. His harsh breath misted in front of him as he tried in vain to contain it. Ahead it could hear the laboured breathing and soft moans of his victim. It was in pain, the Minotaur decided. Shame he had anticipated a good hunt.
As he approached the Minotaur decided to drop all pretences of stealth. He straightened and allowed his hooves to clack on the stone floor and his horned head to scrape the low ceiling. His victim must have heard his approach, its moans and grunts became laced with fear. The Minotaur paused, enjoying the new sounds before leaping out in front of his victim and letting out a fearsome roar.
He was disappointed. His victim was lying in the shadows of a corner. It smelt strongly, like they sometimes did after the Minotaur had chased them for awhile, and its stomach was heaving in an unusual manner. In fact there was something very unusual about this one. Usually they screamed and ran, or tried to jab bits of metal into him. Never had one seemed so...calm at his appearance.
Not that it wasn’t scared, it was, the Minotaur could tell in the way its eyes lingered over his wicked horns and jagged teeth. The Minotaur moved closer until he was standing over it. It seemed to struggle vainly and only then did the Minotaur realise that it didn’t run because it couldn’t. It was enormously fat; its stomach must be weighing it down.
It let out an abrupt shriek of pain and the Minotaur flinched before gingerly rolling it over, searching for an injury. There was none. Oh well, best eat it then before it dies. The Minotaur reached down to seize the thing. It let out an agonised scream and the Minotaur withdrew its hand sharply. There was a wet noise. It lay still. The Minotaur poked it. It didn’t move. It had died. The Minotaur snorted in annoyance.
Suddenly there was a new sound. The Minotaur had no prior experience to tell him what it was. Like the screams they sometimes made only different…more demanding. The Minotaur craned its head down till its horns scraped on the wall. In between the legs of the fat thing was another…thing. It was much smaller peering around at its surroundings, and making the noise. It was a very annoying noise. The Minotaur considered crushing it beneath a cloven hoof, but some instinct stopped it. Instead it sat against the wall and tore an arm off the dead thing. As it chewed it stared at this New Thing.
The New Thing continued to wail. The Minotaur finished his arm. As it did it suddenly occurred to him that the New Thing might be hungry. The Minotaur reached aside and tore a lump of flesh of the dead thing before slamming the lump down in front of the New Thing. The New Thing seemed at a loss. It looked at the lump of flesh, then at the Minotaur. The Minotaur stared back. It pressed its mouth against the lump and began to suck.
(It is totally up to you how grotesque this is. I really did not intend it to mean that at the time. Please just take it at face value.)
The Minotaur finished its meal and looked back to see the New Thing watching him. He bent down and, ever so gently, picked up the New Thing. Holding it with tender arms the Minotaur moved deeper into the labyrinth.
My first memories of life involve darkness. In the labyrinth there is little natural light and most of my early years took place in a light just above total darkness. My early life was happy but the actual details may disgust some. My father, though I never thought of him so, and I hunted those given to us in the darkness. Revelling in their fear and feasting on their flesh. It was a simple and satisfactory life.
I think my first unhappy moment was when we were in a section of the labyrinth which was more brightly lit. It had collapsed at some point in the past and water was seeping in from somewhere. I was aware that I was smaller than my father but as I passed the water I caught sight of my own reflection. I went back to look more closely. My father loomed over me. I felt where my horns should be. I stroked my strange patch of hair and my otherwise smooth skin before looking at my father in askance. He knew nothing, but after that we avoided well lit areas of the labyrinth.
Still I was happy. I sometimes wondered what our victims felt other than fear. I was never motivated enough to find out. Then the man came. A thing like the ones we hunted. But this one was very different. He wore a shiny metal coat and carried a large metal object that was both sharp and heavy. Well do I remember the sound of fighting echoing though the stone corridors of the labyrinth, and how my father bellowed in fear just before the object severed his head.
I had never experienced loss before. I returned to my father’s headless body thinking I would die now. For always he had been my protector. I could not survive by myself. This was true but not for the reasons I thought. The things that we had eaten stopped coming into the labyrinth. After four days I was ravenously hungry. After a week I was willing to venture out. I had always known where the things had entered the labyrinth. I stood at the beginning of the tunnel that led out.
The light was too bright. It my eyes ached and burned if I looked directly outside, but after some time passed the light dimmed to a more tolerable level. The sky terrified me but my ever increasing hunger was stronger, urging me onwards. I looked around for the things I usually ate. None were apparent; the labyrinth came out in a forest. I went looking, moving across the strange green floor and avoiding the pillars as much as possible.
Soon I encountered some barriers and after that a building. It was sort of like a small labyrinth. That thought comforted me immensely. I circled the building carefully, peering in the wall-holes. Smells that I had never conceived of floated out of it. I had no images to associate with the smells but they made my hunger curl up inside me and die. Or that was how it felt. I let out an agonised moan.
One of the things I usually ate came to the window. Seeing me it started and then reached out. I tried to back away from the wall-hole. But my hunger wouldn’t let me. He made some strange noises with his mouth. I couldn’t understand him but I made him aware of my hunger. The two of them made noises at each other. Then the first one motioned me inside.
That night was the first I spent in the trappings of civilisation. I ate some kind of meat stew (with my hands of course) before sleeping on a pallet of straw. Before I fell asleep I watched the things I used to hunt and kill make soft noises at each other. One of these things had killed my father I reminded myself. But that one had been so different. I wondered if some of the ones I had eaten had been like these ones.
The next bright light the things took me too the local church. First they had to convince me to wear a sackcloth dress. I didn’t understand why but wore it nonetheless. They then had to get me to go outside. I didn’t want to. The sky was huge; I thought I would fall into it. Luckily the day was overcast; while it was unpleasantly bright I could see. When I felt the cold wind blowing I realised what the dress was for. Of course it was to shield me from the wind. I communicated my delight to the thing who had given it to me. It smiled, I was stunned by the expression and tried to mimic it.
The church was the most impressive building I had seen. In reality it was a small place of worship, with a single steeple. To me however it was both huge and intimidating. They led me in the huge doors and I felt like running into the darkness, but there was no darkness. Just harsh unforgiving light everywhere. The things that had taken me in went and made mouth noises at another thing. He was a big thing. He stood at a stone square, and made mouth noises at the things that had brought me. I soon got bored and my attention wandered to some tapestries on the wall. They were images of thing I had seen, I realised.
One caught my attention. That was my father! I moved across to it quickly. My father was standing at the bottom of a pile of stones. On top of the pile was a thing surrounded in light and clothed in metal. He held one of the objects that had killed my father in his hands. Tears rose in me. Was this some kind of homage to the thing that killed my father? It was obvious that the thing was supposed to be superior by the way the image was arranged.
The big thing grabbed my arm. He made some mouth noises and gestured towards the tapestry. I snarled at him and pulled my arm away. I communicated to him that I wanted him to go away. As I did he started. Then he began to make the mouth noises again. But now I recognised them. Some of the things we killed made these noises. My father had always made me go around the corner when they did to protect me. There were no proper corners here, but there was much more space. I ran.
For a time I lived in the forest. I learned that the red meat from inside the things I had eaten could also be found in other furry things. For a time I just lived. The death of my father weighed on me heavily. Then one day as I snapped the neck of my next meal it occurred to me. I could find the man who killed my father. He was like this thing. I could snap his neck too. Yes I would break the Killer Things neck. At the time I did not truly consider the wisdom of that but it gave my life purpose.
I would have to find Killer Thing. I thought about that. He had an image dedicated to him in that building. So the things must know where he was. I would have to find some and follow them until they led me to him. With this worked out I began to travel. I had no real concept of how large the world was so I simply set off in a direction and (luckily) soon reached a town.
It was barely a town. More like a crossroads with an inn. Still it was more things in one place than I had ever seen. I watched there comings and goings for some time. Then as things quietened down I gathered my courage. Earlier I had seen a thing clad in metal as the Killer Thing had been enter the inn. I reasoned that if he was dressed in the same way he must know where the Killer Thing was. Quietly I snuck down to the inn and taking a deep breath entered.
So many things. Two sat in a corner, and wore hoods that hid there faces. They looked up as I entered before dismissing me and returning to their conversation. Another four things looked up and sniggered looking at me in a way that reminded me of the way the Big Thing had looked at me after I communicated with him. I tugged my tattered sackcloth dress around me. The man I was after was sitting with the largest group of things. They didn’t even register my entering. A thing behind a wooden counter made a mouth noise at me. I smiled at him and went to sit in the corner hoping they would ignore me.
The man behind the bar supplied some liquids to the four who had sniggered as I entered. They got louder and louder as he did so. The two things in the corner simply continued there quiet mouth noises. The metal clad thing was at a noise range between these. Its large group also ate some stuff which reminded me of the stew I had had once.
After some time the thing in the metal got up to leave. I followed suit and walked out the door. It was walking out along the road with the large group. I began to follow. Then something gripped my arm from behind. I turned. It was the second group of things from before. The one holding me made a mouth noise. I smiled and tried to escape his grip. He made another noise and held on tighter. I snarled at him. He made a noise at one of the men beside him. He made a noise back. I suddenly knew the fear of those I had hunted and killed. I slammed my fist into the arm holding me. The man yelled in pain and let go. I stumbled back, and crashed into the thing that had circled behind me while the one that had gripped me had held me.
The rest blurs in my mind. I swung my arms all around me, and wished my father was there. I was scratching a things face with my fingers then I was biting another’s collarbone as it bore me to the ground. It raised its hand above it to hit me in the face. Then “Stop”. My eyes widened in shock. It was communication. Like I used.
“Get off her” The thing on top of me stood, and backed away. I sat up, my sackcloth dress falling to tatters around me. I saw a thing standing there.
It stood just down the road from where we had been fighting; having obviously just strode out of the inn. I recognised it from inside. It still wore the hood that hid its face. In its left hand he held a long stick a little taller than his head. It had metal tips.
“I see you’re having trouble beating and raping a scrawny girl”, I stared in amazement. The thing was communicating as it made its mouth noises. I didn’t understand the concepts behind the noises but I understood that it was mocking my attackers; “Given your difficulty I doubt you want me to wade in” as it communicated this it swung its stick in a lazy circle.
One of my attackers made a harsh mouth noise. “Fine” communicated the thing quietly. It lifted its stick and pointed it at the thing that had made the noise.
I felt a great rushing. It filled my mouth and nose and ears till I was drowning in it. And I felt it rush into the thing. I felt it master it. It thrust its stick at the attacker that had made the harsh noise. It flew backwards as though my father had thrown it. It hit the ground and skidded along before stopping in a puddle. The other men turned and ran as one, making fearful mouth noises. The man in the puddle fled with them.
I watched them go then turned to the thing that had saved me. It looked down at me. It made a mouth noise at me. I despaired. Why wasn’t it communicating any more? I tried to communicate my anguish to my saviour…and encountered something I had never felt before. A wall seemed to encircle my saviours mind. I couldn’t break though it. As I redoubled my efforts a thing next to my saviour made a noise at him. I started, had he been there the whole time? And as I moved the wall around my saviours mind snapped, reversing and entrapping me within it.
I suddenly couldn’t move my body. My mind was trapped inside what seemed to be a bubble of will. I struggled and raged and finally, feared. I could do nothing against the merciless grip that held me.
“Now what do we have here?” came the communication. It seemed to emanate from the bubble. “A little girl with the ability to touch another’s mind?”, I didn’t understand. I proffered that feeling to the bubble, and felt it accept the emotion. “You can use your words you know” The bubble seemed a little amused. I still didn’t understand. “How can you not understand words?” a pause, I still didn’t understand “Well…no help for it I suppose”
Suddenly my mind began to work without my permission. It began to call random memories from my childhood. I felt the joy of every hunt I had ever been involved in and the anguish of my father’s death. Then my mind ran through the events since I left the labyrinth. The bubble suddenly deserted me. I was slammed into my body unceremoniously. Blinking I looked up from the ground. The two things were looking at me.
“And I thought my childhood was fucked up” communicated my saviour to the one I hadn’t noticed.
“No shit” it responded. They considered me for a second.
“The girls naked” observed my saviour. The unnoticed one began to laugh. I stood slowly, my legs bent to flee at any second. My saviour addressed me. “Come with us, we’ll get you some food and clothes”. I shrank away from it afraid it would trap my mind again. He sighed. “This is getting nowhere”.
I felt his mind touch mind and tried to shy away, but I had no concept of how to defend myself. He penetrated my mind and sat there for a second as though admiring the scenery before dumping a packet of information and retreating. It opened of its own accord and I staggered. My mind was suddenly filled with the beauty of language. I realised how foolish I had been.
“Did that work?” Asked my saviour interestedly, “It’s the first time something like that has ever been attempted, to my knowledge”
“Y…yes”, I looked at the two things. Men I knew, I was a woman or girl. I understood the physical differences now. I searched through my new vocabulary, “You…help…me?”
“Yes” said my saviour, “Come. We have food and clothes” he turned and walked back towards the inn. Then he turned as though remembering something, “Oh yes do you have a name? I’m Gideon” He turned to his friend, who had once again faded into the background, “That’s Sethur”.
I considered, “No…it was not…needed…before”.
“Well, we’ll call you Girl then” Gideon beckoned and then turned. Sethur followed and, after a few moments, so did I.
Gideon and Sethur fed and clothed me that night. I curled up in the inn’s back room, wearing the best set of clothes I had ever seen. They were two sizes to large. As I lay there Gideon and Sethur talked over my head and I became aware that Gideon had only gifted me with the bare necessities when it came to words. And much of my new knowledge was based off knowledge that I didn’t have, or couldn’t comprehend. So I listened attempting to fill in the gaps and before I knew it was asleep.
The next morning the two men were awake before I was. We went down stairs and payed the barkeep before heading out onto the road. I was nervous about seeing the men who had attacked me yesterday, but the one we did see bowed out of the way apologising vigorously to Gideon.
“I’m so sorry to have offended you my lord mage”
“You haven’t, though if you continue to grovel I may become offended” Gideon glared at the man as he scurried away. “Obsequious idiot” he muttered, “Do I look like a lord?”
As we travelled the number of people on the road grew. They seemed to be fighting men, soldiers, mostly. Some were clad in the metal that I now knew was called armour, while others carried spears or swords. It was a sword that had killed my father. As the tide of people grew I drew up some courage and asked where we were all going. Gideon looked back at me.
“Depends” he answered; he pointed back in the direction we had come “If they are going that way they are going to fight for Aristarchus” He then gestured in front of him, “If they are coming with us they are going to fight for Queen Adelie. This land isn’t controlled by either, so all the mercenaries headed here until they knew who they agreed with, or who was going to pay them more”.
I frowned at this, “What’s ‘paying’?” I asked.
Gideon looked back at me “I’m sure I gave you the meaning of paying” I nodded.
“Yes but I didn’t understand” I thought over the meaning he had given me, “So the mercenaries work for whoever gives them more money?”
Gideon nodded “And money is used to buy things like food and clothes”
I thought about this, “So who is paying more?”
“At the moment Adelie is offering more coin but Aristarchus is attacking so there will be more opportunities to pillage and rape”
“You think Adelie’s coin is worth more?”
“No” it was Sethur who answered this time. I started, I had forgotten he was even there, “We just think Aristarchus deserves to lose”
Something about his tone and the expression on Gideon’s face made me stop asking questions. We stopped that night an hour before the sun went down. We moved off the road and Gideon instructed me to fetch some wood for a fire. As I did so I wondered what a fire was. All Gideon’s information was telling me was that it gave off heat and light. When I returned carrying an armful of wood Gideon had made a ring out of small stones. I looked very carefully for Sethur, but this time he really wasn’t here.
“Sethurs gone hunting” he said answering my unasked question, “Bring that wood over here”.
I watched as he stacked the wood inside the circle he then reached inside his cloak and drew out a rock and a knife. I flinched when I saw the knife. He didn’t see me though and clashed the two objects together. Sparks
Grumbling and cursing Gideon stood and picked up his stick. His Quarterstaff. He pointed it at the wood. Once again I felt that strange rushing sensation that filled my senses and threatened to drown me. The wood caught alight. I stared at the flames in confusion, before looking at Gideon.
“What did you just do?”
Gideon shot a glance at me from the corner of his eyes; “I used magic” he spoke softly, so softly that I had to lean in to hear him properly.
“What does that mean?”
Gideon turned to look at me. “It means that I manipulated the winds of magic to obey my command” There was a slightly mocking tone in his voice “Or that is what the Circle would have you believe” he gave a short bark of laughter. “The fools think to prescribe a simple explanation to something infinitely complex, it’s a wonder they produce any worthy mages at all”
“So a mage is someone who uses magic?” Gideon nodded. I opened my mouth to ask a question then shut it. Gideon noticed my renitence.
“Feel free to ask whatever it is. If the question offends me I simply won’t answer” He stood and began to rummage in him knapsack.
“Well…” Gideon pulled a metal bowl out of the knapsack, “Do these winds of magic fell sort of like water? Filling your eyes and ears till its everywhere?”
“What?” Gideon’s disbelieving yelp echoed around our campsite, so too did the sound of the metal pot hitting the rocks on the edge of the fire and rolling in. Gideon swore and fished it out quickly with his staff. While he did so he muttered to himself shooting regular glances at me, “Stupid, stupid…Should have tested her…If she can touch another’s mind”. He retrieved the pot from the fire and sat down in front of me. “Close your eyes Girl”
“Why?” I asked suspiciously, shying away from him.
“Look it wont hurt, just close your eyes and sit still” Gideon sounded angry, though the anger seemed directed at himself rather than at me. I don’t know why but I did stop and I did close my eyes and Gideon touched my forehead with his pointer and middle finger.
The rushing feeling came again. It flowed around my ears and eyes. It was seeking a way in I suddenly realised. And it found one. Through Gideon’s fingers. I felt him take the energy from around us and push it into me. I struggled to escape from him but I was stuck to his fingers. And the winds of magic flowed inside me. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing but power came out.
Gideon spoke in my mind, “Calm, it’s not really pain, just a sensation you’ve never felt before. Take a deep breath and accept it”.
For a time I couldn’t do as he said. The feeling was everywhere. It prevented me from thinking. It robbed me of my control and my body moved in strange twitchy movements. But Gideon was relentless; he didn’t release me or stop funnelling the magic through me, “Stop fighting it” he instructed. I did. It took what seemed like hours but slowly my body stopped twitching; my breath stopped jerking in and out of me erratically. I took a deep breath and simply allowed the feeling free reign over my body.
Gideon suddenly removed his fingers from my forehead. I stayed in the position and slowly felt the magic recede from my body. When it was all gone I opened my eyes. Gideon was looking at me a pleased expression on his face, “You’re good. It takes most people hours to control it like that”.
I took a shaky breath, “I didn’t control it, I just let it…be”
“Yes. It takes most people hours to understand that magic is not for humans to control. It takes most people hours to simply be with the magic inside them. It took you 30 minutes”.
“No” It had seemed like hours. I scanned the horizon and sure enough there was still a faint glow from the sun.
“So she good”, this time I was not the only one to startle at Sethur’s sudden appearance.
Gideon blanched and swore, “Don’t do that” he instructed shakily.
“Do what?” Sethur grinned and threw a gutted and skinned rabbit at Gideon’s feet, “Cook woman”.
Gideon snarled wordlessly and began to cut the rabbit up into chunks. I reached for my share but he batted my hand away, “Calm minotaur girl I’ll cook it first”.
I pondered that for a second. The image I had in my mind seemed wrong. Sethur went and sat down opposite us across the fire. Gideon continued to cut the rabbit up and place it in the metal pot with some unidentifiable things from his knapsack. For awhile there was silence until the pot was sitting in the coals of the fire. Then Gideon sat and looked back over towards me.
“Well what do we do with you now” Gideon uttered more to Sethur than to me. He reached out and absently stirred the meat in the pot with a stick before continuing, “I won’t lie, last night Sethur and I discussed you, we planned on abandoning you when we reached Tygor”; He looked across at Sethur who was staring into the flames, “But given your talent I don’t think we can, You’ll just hurt yourself and others”
“Like we care” interrupted Sethur
Gideon ignored him, “Given that you have a few options. We can drop you off in the Circles outpost in Tygor”, he looked contemptuous, “Or I could find one of my friends from the old days and apprentice you to them”, he looked happier about this option. I nodded.
He flashed his eyes at Sethur and, almost, I felt some communication pass between them. “Or”, Gideon added as though it was an afterthought, “You could be my apprentice”.
On reflection it was unfair for him to ask this of me. At the time I had no idea what each choice would mean for me. I only had a shaky understanding of the word apprentice for gods’ sakes. In the end I think I made the decision based off fear of the unknown. Gideon’s opening of my mind had shown me that the world was no where near as small or safe as I had first thought. I reviewed words like war and rape in my mind and trembled.
So I looked Gideon straight in the eye and intoned with a sense of finality, “I want to be your apprentice”, and watched Sethurs shoot a look of smug satisfaction at Gideon’s almost fearful acceptance.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Avatar
Avatar. I have nothing against this movie. If forced to score it (out of 5) I would probably give it a 3.5 which is good by anyone’s standard. Before I get started I would just like to repeat that. However despite this I didn’t like Avatar. This wasn’t because of the visuals or (really) the plot I just found it hard to get immersed in this movie. Every time I got close to suspending my disbelief something would happen. Whether a character did something stupid or I felt that something wasn’t explained properly I just couldn’t get into this movie. I’ll list some of my major complaints below and we will see what you think.
3D VISUALS
The visuals in avatar were stunning. This is one of the few movies in which 3d would (and has) worked. No the problem I have with the visuals in Avatar is because of this movies success every man and his dog will think 3d is a good idea and for the vast majority of movies it is emphatically not. Just you wait there will be a string of terrible movies now that all use 3d as their only selling point. 3d also reinforces the thought that a movie is about its visuals which it is not. It is about characters and plot, good visuals can complement these things but a movie that has bad characters and plot will be a bad movie no matter how pretty it is.
THE PLOT
http://www.slashfilm.com/wp/wp-content/images/zz4b70bcca.jpg
This is not necessarily a bad thing it’s just worth remembering that avatar is as original plot wise as…look it’s just not original okay.
THE ONE BAD CHARACTER
Remember what I said about Avatar being a good movie. There was only one character in this movie who was truly bad. Jake Sully was reasonable and Ripley…umm…I can’t call her anything else sorry…was an awesome character from whom the only genuinely funny lines in the movie come from. The evil general guy was fine because he was easy to hate (which was all he had to do) and the head of the corporation was actually more interesting that other heads of corporations in other movies (he was motivated by greed but he was feeling the pressure of his job more than anything else he allowed himself to be manipulated by the army guy because it gave him an easy way out).
No the only BAD character was that fucking Na’vi girl love interest. From the first time I saw her I could pretty much say exactly what she would do in the rest of the movie (except for one thing but that will be later). She has no defining character traits. Jake may be a stereotype but at least he can’t walk. Oh wait she’s the perfect wank material I forgo THAT’S NOT A CHARACTER TRAIT. This is the same problem I had with Bella in twilight. Her only character trait actually digs her further into the pit of her stereotype, but this is worse because being a member of an alien species isn’t even a character trait. It’s a state of being that she couldn’t change even if she wanted too. For the moment I’ll leave it at that and move on.
THE END
Towards the end of avatar the movie began to get silly. More than that the most odd and jarring decision in the movie is made. The Na’vi girl falls in love with Jake again only like 1 Day after he betrayed her entire species. Okay yes he comes in on the big flying dinosaur thing that’s like a holy symbol. But I would like to point out that saying “yes you are the salvation of my species” and saying “yes I forgive you for basically killing my father and destroying the only home I have ever known”, are two entirely different things. And from a purely filmmaking standpoint wouldn’t the ending have been improved by there being a bit of romantic tension. The current ending is sooooo one dimensional. It is simple good vs. evil. More than that the ending gives the feeling that the Na’vi girl actually is supposed to still be angry at Jake. When she is on the verge of disobeying one of his orders jumps into mind.
Also the destructive military forces (that are a little too destructive) have a ground campaign for no adequate reason beyond, “YEAH LET GO KILL THEM ALL YEA BITCHIZ” tell me how are the horse riding Na’vi any threat to the walled compound with huge gun emplacements. If you’re that worried about them stick the guys in the ground campaign on top of the walls of the compound. That would stop any number of the horse guys. True the flying quys would be a threat. But if the whole dropping the bomb on the tree of souls plan works you won’t need to defend yourself from the flying guys. And their the only thing that’s going to stop the shuttle from dropping its payload. So its safe to assume that what they will be doing. And if that’s not what their doing if they are in fact attacking the compound GOOD that means no resistance while you blow the shit out of the sacred tree. Sigh. I truly hated the ending.
OKAY SO CAN ANYONE IN THIS FIGHT ACTUALLY DIE?
I have the sad misfortune of seeing this movie three times (Once with parents once with friends and once with friends mark two). The first time this wasn’t an issue but the second and third time it defiantly was. It is never explained what happens when an avatar body dies. Now after seeing this movie three times this is what I came up with. The human body is the important one. If your avatar body dies your mind goes back into your human body. This is a really stupid decision. You know why? Because it (with a surgical scalpel) removes all the tension for the first two hour of the movie. You know that bit where he doesn’t really care and the Na’vi don’t like him. That entire section is like, “well he doesn’t care and they don’t care and he can’t die sooo why do I care?”. Even in the later parts of the movie its still mutes the tension. When he dies he comes back I his normal body. So he gets a second chance after this one. Soooo this is FUCKING POINTLESS.
ARROWS CAN SHOOT PLANES DOWN
Okay now at the end of the movie the Na’vi starts shooting at the planes and killing the pilots by punching through the glass. Now earlier we saw the arrows bounce off the glass but no apparently that’s a different plane and hence has no relation to the other planes. Okay. Now I must ask the question how long have the human race been on this planet? I would assume that because it takes six years to get to Pandora they would have to have been her 24 years at the least? (6 for scientists of come and discover unobtanium, 6 for the corporation to get wind of it and send a survey team and 6 for the materials to build the complex station thing, 6 to build the miners and exploration vehicles). Now it its strongly hinted that there have been problems with the Na’vi before.
Now put yourself in the corporation’s shoes. You know this is a strange and hostile world with a strange and hostile native population. You know that they shoot arrows. Now your making planes to survive in this environment and even the slightest crack in the plane could result in the death of the pilot because the atmosphere is poisonous (in a way that is never adequately explained >=Z). Wouldn’t the first thing you would do is make the planes arrow proof? It’s not like it would be hard. Bullet resistant glass would do. There is no way an arrow is getting through bullet proof glass. No way in hell.
Also this thin layer of glass is all that’s keeping the pilot away from the deadly atmosphere. If I was a pilot and I discovered how thin and weak the glass was I would go on strike or report them to OHS or something. Yeah it would take OHS 6 years to get here but I WOULD STILL BE ALIVE.
THE ROBOT KNIFE BIT
Okay now this is a truly minor complaint in that it’s not really a complaint it’s a statement. THE BIT WHERE THE ROBOT PULLS OUT THE OVERSIZED KNIFE IS MEANT TO BE FUNNY. This came up in a discussion where one of my friends said that the funniest part of the movie was the aforementioned knife robot bit. Instantly about three of my other friends were all over him with “how should the robot fight in close combat then?” “what if he drops his gun or it’s destroyed hmm? ”. Well, the filmmaker put this in as a semi-humorous moment that also gets them an excuse to give the robot a knife.
If you take this scene seriously it doesn’t make sense. If we assume the Robot was built purely for the Pandora environment (I don’t fully accept this but everyone else seems to) it having some kind of weapon for close quarters fighting is not unreasonable. However there are more elegant solutions. The gun had a bayonet so as long as the robot had the gun it had a close quarter’s weapon. If your worried about the robot dropping the gun ATTATCH THE GUN TO THE ROBOT WITH BOLTS AND A SOLDERING IRON. Even if you wanted the robot to multitask and it therefore needs its hands (which doesn’t make a lot of sense but hey) there are more efficient ways to give it a close quarters weapon. How about giving it a sword that slides out from its wrist wolverine style? This also eliminates the problem of the robot (after it dropped the gun) dropping the knife. It would also be so cool it would make me forgive the movie of any previous faults.
Once again this complaint’s not really a complaint. If you assume this scene is funny it makes sense. If you take it seriously it doesn’t. On one final note I would argue that a robot that can pulverise logs of wood with one blow could pretty much beat the crap out of most opponents. At the point where you’re stabbing something you may as well be caving in its face with your giant robot fists…
I have other problems with the film but these have either been successfully rebutted or even I consider them too minor to bother with. I would like to repeat that this was a good movie I just didn’t like it. At all
3D VISUALS
The visuals in avatar were stunning. This is one of the few movies in which 3d would (and has) worked. No the problem I have with the visuals in Avatar is because of this movies success every man and his dog will think 3d is a good idea and for the vast majority of movies it is emphatically not. Just you wait there will be a string of terrible movies now that all use 3d as their only selling point. 3d also reinforces the thought that a movie is about its visuals which it is not. It is about characters and plot, good visuals can complement these things but a movie that has bad characters and plot will be a bad movie no matter how pretty it is.
THE PLOT
http://www.slashfilm.com/wp/wp-content/images/zz4b70bcca.jpg
This is not necessarily a bad thing it’s just worth remembering that avatar is as original plot wise as…look it’s just not original okay.
THE ONE BAD CHARACTER
Remember what I said about Avatar being a good movie. There was only one character in this movie who was truly bad. Jake Sully was reasonable and Ripley…umm…I can’t call her anything else sorry…was an awesome character from whom the only genuinely funny lines in the movie come from. The evil general guy was fine because he was easy to hate (which was all he had to do) and the head of the corporation was actually more interesting that other heads of corporations in other movies (he was motivated by greed but he was feeling the pressure of his job more than anything else he allowed himself to be manipulated by the army guy because it gave him an easy way out).
No the only BAD character was that fucking Na’vi girl love interest. From the first time I saw her I could pretty much say exactly what she would do in the rest of the movie (except for one thing but that will be later). She has no defining character traits. Jake may be a stereotype but at least he can’t walk. Oh wait she’s the perfect wank material I forgo THAT’S NOT A CHARACTER TRAIT. This is the same problem I had with Bella in twilight. Her only character trait actually digs her further into the pit of her stereotype, but this is worse because being a member of an alien species isn’t even a character trait. It’s a state of being that she couldn’t change even if she wanted too. For the moment I’ll leave it at that and move on.
THE END
Towards the end of avatar the movie began to get silly. More than that the most odd and jarring decision in the movie is made. The Na’vi girl falls in love with Jake again only like 1 Day after he betrayed her entire species. Okay yes he comes in on the big flying dinosaur thing that’s like a holy symbol. But I would like to point out that saying “yes you are the salvation of my species” and saying “yes I forgive you for basically killing my father and destroying the only home I have ever known”, are two entirely different things. And from a purely filmmaking standpoint wouldn’t the ending have been improved by there being a bit of romantic tension. The current ending is sooooo one dimensional. It is simple good vs. evil. More than that the ending gives the feeling that the Na’vi girl actually is supposed to still be angry at Jake. When she is on the verge of disobeying one of his orders jumps into mind.
Also the destructive military forces (that are a little too destructive) have a ground campaign for no adequate reason beyond, “YEAH LET GO KILL THEM ALL YEA BITCHIZ” tell me how are the horse riding Na’vi any threat to the walled compound with huge gun emplacements. If you’re that worried about them stick the guys in the ground campaign on top of the walls of the compound. That would stop any number of the horse guys. True the flying quys would be a threat. But if the whole dropping the bomb on the tree of souls plan works you won’t need to defend yourself from the flying guys. And their the only thing that’s going to stop the shuttle from dropping its payload. So its safe to assume that what they will be doing. And if that’s not what their doing if they are in fact attacking the compound GOOD that means no resistance while you blow the shit out of the sacred tree. Sigh. I truly hated the ending.
OKAY SO CAN ANYONE IN THIS FIGHT ACTUALLY DIE?
I have the sad misfortune of seeing this movie three times (Once with parents once with friends and once with friends mark two). The first time this wasn’t an issue but the second and third time it defiantly was. It is never explained what happens when an avatar body dies. Now after seeing this movie three times this is what I came up with. The human body is the important one. If your avatar body dies your mind goes back into your human body. This is a really stupid decision. You know why? Because it (with a surgical scalpel) removes all the tension for the first two hour of the movie. You know that bit where he doesn’t really care and the Na’vi don’t like him. That entire section is like, “well he doesn’t care and they don’t care and he can’t die sooo why do I care?”. Even in the later parts of the movie its still mutes the tension. When he dies he comes back I his normal body. So he gets a second chance after this one. Soooo this is FUCKING POINTLESS.
ARROWS CAN SHOOT PLANES DOWN
Okay now at the end of the movie the Na’vi starts shooting at the planes and killing the pilots by punching through the glass. Now earlier we saw the arrows bounce off the glass but no apparently that’s a different plane and hence has no relation to the other planes. Okay. Now I must ask the question how long have the human race been on this planet? I would assume that because it takes six years to get to Pandora they would have to have been her 24 years at the least? (6 for scientists of come and discover unobtanium, 6 for the corporation to get wind of it and send a survey team and 6 for the materials to build the complex station thing, 6 to build the miners and exploration vehicles). Now it its strongly hinted that there have been problems with the Na’vi before.
Now put yourself in the corporation’s shoes. You know this is a strange and hostile world with a strange and hostile native population. You know that they shoot arrows. Now your making planes to survive in this environment and even the slightest crack in the plane could result in the death of the pilot because the atmosphere is poisonous (in a way that is never adequately explained >=Z). Wouldn’t the first thing you would do is make the planes arrow proof? It’s not like it would be hard. Bullet resistant glass would do. There is no way an arrow is getting through bullet proof glass. No way in hell.
Also this thin layer of glass is all that’s keeping the pilot away from the deadly atmosphere. If I was a pilot and I discovered how thin and weak the glass was I would go on strike or report them to OHS or something. Yeah it would take OHS 6 years to get here but I WOULD STILL BE ALIVE.
THE ROBOT KNIFE BIT
Okay now this is a truly minor complaint in that it’s not really a complaint it’s a statement. THE BIT WHERE THE ROBOT PULLS OUT THE OVERSIZED KNIFE IS MEANT TO BE FUNNY. This came up in a discussion where one of my friends said that the funniest part of the movie was the aforementioned knife robot bit. Instantly about three of my other friends were all over him with “how should the robot fight in close combat then?” “what if he drops his gun or it’s destroyed hmm? ”. Well, the filmmaker put this in as a semi-humorous moment that also gets them an excuse to give the robot a knife.
If you take this scene seriously it doesn’t make sense. If we assume the Robot was built purely for the Pandora environment (I don’t fully accept this but everyone else seems to) it having some kind of weapon for close quarters fighting is not unreasonable. However there are more elegant solutions. The gun had a bayonet so as long as the robot had the gun it had a close quarter’s weapon. If your worried about the robot dropping the gun ATTATCH THE GUN TO THE ROBOT WITH BOLTS AND A SOLDERING IRON. Even if you wanted the robot to multitask and it therefore needs its hands (which doesn’t make a lot of sense but hey) there are more efficient ways to give it a close quarters weapon. How about giving it a sword that slides out from its wrist wolverine style? This also eliminates the problem of the robot (after it dropped the gun) dropping the knife. It would also be so cool it would make me forgive the movie of any previous faults.
Once again this complaint’s not really a complaint. If you assume this scene is funny it makes sense. If you take it seriously it doesn’t. On one final note I would argue that a robot that can pulverise logs of wood with one blow could pretty much beat the crap out of most opponents. At the point where you’re stabbing something you may as well be caving in its face with your giant robot fists…
I have other problems with the film but these have either been successfully rebutted or even I consider them too minor to bother with. I would like to repeat that this was a good movie I just didn’t like it. At all
Friday, January 22, 2010
Mirth
Little something I knocked up in about an hour. The joke is from a website. read at your own peril :O.
There was the slightly discordant twang of techno music coming from the next room. A smile crept across the man’s face as he awoke from his slumber. With a very small number of exceptions the smile would never falter. He sat up in bed. He was a handsome man with short black hair and blue eyes. There were smile lines on his face and his age was completely indeterminate. He could be anywhere from 20 to 40.
He swept his feet across the bed and slipped them into pink bunny slippers he had brought on a whim. Without exception everything this man did was on his whim. He giggled quietly as he looked down at his slippers. Wiggling his toes to make it appear that one slipper was talking to the other, and adopting a high falsetto voice, he told the following joke;
“Every night, Joe would go down to the liquor store, get a six pack, bring it home, and drink it while he watched TV. One night, as he finished his last beer, the doorbell rang. He stumbled to the door and found a six-foot cockroach standing there. The bug grabbed him by the collar and threw him across the room, then left. The next night, after he finished his 4th beer, the doorbell rang. He walked slowly to the door and found the same six-foot cockroach standing there. The big bug punched him in the stomach, then left. The next night, after he finished his 1st beer, the doorbell rang again. The same six-foot cockroach was standing there. This time, he was kneed in the groin and hit behind the ear as he doubled over in pain. Then the big bug left. The fourth night Joe didn't drink at all. The doorbell rang. The cockroach was standing there. The bug beat the snot out of Joe and left him in a heap on the living room floor. The following day, Joe went to see his doctor. He explained the events of the preceding four nights. 'What can I do?' he pleaded. 'Not much' the doctor replied. 'There's just a nasty bug going around.”
The joke was by no means spectacular but the man didn’t seem to care. Nor did the fact that he was the one telling the jokes seem to faze him. He began to laugh so hard he fell of the bed and rolled around on the floor. Tears rolled around on his face. A cough interrupted him.
At the door to the bedroom stood a rather boring looking man in a suit looked down at the man on the floor laughing. He seemed to sigh, “Sir your newspaper, also remember you have a meeting with Arrogance later. “That’s today?” This news seemed to sober the man, he sighed. I suppose I’ll have to use the kettle today”. The man in the suit nodded, “that would be wise sir”.
An hour later. After the man managed to get dressed with only one major fit of hysterics, when he was deciding on his tie. The man walked into the bare kitchen/dining room. It was bare because even the slightest ornamentation might set the man off and he only came into here for one reason. Fishing around in one of the cupboards, he drew out a battered and blackened kettle. A joke occurred to the man, about kettles and a distressed pigeon, but he repressed it, with extreme difficulty, and instead concentrated on the kettle with all his might.
This kettle was evil. He thought. It had murdered his entire family. It was the sole cause of all the unhappiness in his life (there wasn’t very much). It had raped his true love and then beaten his dog to death with a… perhaps that was going too far. How could a kettle beat something to death? It doesn’t have hands.
This thought would have previously rendered the man incapable of thought or movement for several minutes, but not anymore. He straightened. His happiness was still there but it was now his to control and misuse as he saw fit. He grinned.
“Sir” The other man was back, “Are you finished?”
“Do you mean, Can I now walk down the street without bursting into gales of hearty laughter taking everyone else on the street with me? Because if so yes, I believe I can.”
The first man began to walk to the door out of the small group of rooms he called home. “Oh Gerald prepare everything for tonight’s revelry would you? I’ll likely be busy most of today”
“Of course sir”
The first man walked out the door. Onto the floor of a nightclub. He closed his eyes as his happiness swirled within him, resurgent at the memory of the previous night’s excitement.
The god Mirth walked out onto the road. He smelt the joy in the world. Today, he decided, would be a good day.
There was the slightly discordant twang of techno music coming from the next room. A smile crept across the man’s face as he awoke from his slumber. With a very small number of exceptions the smile would never falter. He sat up in bed. He was a handsome man with short black hair and blue eyes. There were smile lines on his face and his age was completely indeterminate. He could be anywhere from 20 to 40.
He swept his feet across the bed and slipped them into pink bunny slippers he had brought on a whim. Without exception everything this man did was on his whim. He giggled quietly as he looked down at his slippers. Wiggling his toes to make it appear that one slipper was talking to the other, and adopting a high falsetto voice, he told the following joke;
“Every night, Joe would go down to the liquor store, get a six pack, bring it home, and drink it while he watched TV. One night, as he finished his last beer, the doorbell rang. He stumbled to the door and found a six-foot cockroach standing there. The bug grabbed him by the collar and threw him across the room, then left. The next night, after he finished his 4th beer, the doorbell rang. He walked slowly to the door and found the same six-foot cockroach standing there. The big bug punched him in the stomach, then left. The next night, after he finished his 1st beer, the doorbell rang again. The same six-foot cockroach was standing there. This time, he was kneed in the groin and hit behind the ear as he doubled over in pain. Then the big bug left. The fourth night Joe didn't drink at all. The doorbell rang. The cockroach was standing there. The bug beat the snot out of Joe and left him in a heap on the living room floor. The following day, Joe went to see his doctor. He explained the events of the preceding four nights. 'What can I do?' he pleaded. 'Not much' the doctor replied. 'There's just a nasty bug going around.”
The joke was by no means spectacular but the man didn’t seem to care. Nor did the fact that he was the one telling the jokes seem to faze him. He began to laugh so hard he fell of the bed and rolled around on the floor. Tears rolled around on his face. A cough interrupted him.
At the door to the bedroom stood a rather boring looking man in a suit looked down at the man on the floor laughing. He seemed to sigh, “Sir your newspaper, also remember you have a meeting with Arrogance later. “That’s today?” This news seemed to sober the man, he sighed. I suppose I’ll have to use the kettle today”. The man in the suit nodded, “that would be wise sir”.
An hour later. After the man managed to get dressed with only one major fit of hysterics, when he was deciding on his tie. The man walked into the bare kitchen/dining room. It was bare because even the slightest ornamentation might set the man off and he only came into here for one reason. Fishing around in one of the cupboards, he drew out a battered and blackened kettle. A joke occurred to the man, about kettles and a distressed pigeon, but he repressed it, with extreme difficulty, and instead concentrated on the kettle with all his might.
This kettle was evil. He thought. It had murdered his entire family. It was the sole cause of all the unhappiness in his life (there wasn’t very much). It had raped his true love and then beaten his dog to death with a… perhaps that was going too far. How could a kettle beat something to death? It doesn’t have hands.
This thought would have previously rendered the man incapable of thought or movement for several minutes, but not anymore. He straightened. His happiness was still there but it was now his to control and misuse as he saw fit. He grinned.
“Sir” The other man was back, “Are you finished?”
“Do you mean, Can I now walk down the street without bursting into gales of hearty laughter taking everyone else on the street with me? Because if so yes, I believe I can.”
The first man began to walk to the door out of the small group of rooms he called home. “Oh Gerald prepare everything for tonight’s revelry would you? I’ll likely be busy most of today”
“Of course sir”
The first man walked out the door. Onto the floor of a nightclub. He closed his eyes as his happiness swirled within him, resurgent at the memory of the previous night’s excitement.
The god Mirth walked out onto the road. He smelt the joy in the world. Today, he decided, would be a good day.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
I am Blue/Green
Take The Magic Dual Colour Test - Beta today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Personality Test Generator.
I am both rational and instinctive. I value self-knowledge and understanding of the world; my ultimate goal is self-improvement and improvement of the world around me. At best, I am focused and methodical; at worst, I am obsessive and amoral.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
ANZAC Day
A freind of mine recently expressed a dislike of the anzac day ceremony. I agreed with him but we wern't entirely sure why, This allowed us to be shouted down. For my part I finally worked out what it was that bothered me so much. ANZAC day is nothing more than a day reserved on the calander to try and make us feel guilty about being alive. Allow me to explain
I realised that during the various ceremionies the people orchestrating it PARTICULARY during Anzac day (rememberance day has a similar problem however it is less pronounced. I'm also inclined to be nice to rememberence day mainly because I feel we do need to remember all the people who died if only to be sure we don't make such a stupid mistake ever again) is based around the sacrifice of australian troops and how they died to keep us alive.
This has several effects. It enforces the idea that sacrificing oneself for ones country is a good thing (I would just like to point out that its NOT if you must sacrifice yourself for an ideal, choose a better one than simply a country). It also tells us that to waste our lives is to waste there sacrifice and that we should also sacrifice ourselves because they did and it would be cowardly and selfish to not.
Thats all I think please feel free to ask me for clarification I just wanted to get that down.
I realised that during the various ceremionies the people orchestrating it PARTICULARY during Anzac day (rememberance day has a similar problem however it is less pronounced. I'm also inclined to be nice to rememberence day mainly because I feel we do need to remember all the people who died if only to be sure we don't make such a stupid mistake ever again) is based around the sacrifice of australian troops and how they died to keep us alive.
This has several effects. It enforces the idea that sacrificing oneself for ones country is a good thing (I would just like to point out that its NOT if you must sacrifice yourself for an ideal, choose a better one than simply a country). It also tells us that to waste our lives is to waste there sacrifice and that we should also sacrifice ourselves because they did and it would be cowardly and selfish to not.
Thats all I think please feel free to ask me for clarification I just wanted to get that down.
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