Battle Preparations

[Man of Respect 5471]

 

    Its a hard day on the Uzg. Goblin workers work desesperatedly as they try to split the war equipment between the multiple fighters - for it is known that they won't be able to attend, but all help is welcome. Who are these goblins doesn't really matters, what matters is the current issue on the WAR uzg.

 

    Fear seems to take over even the strongest of the warriors, some are afraid of death, some are ready for death, and the utmost apathetic ones are thinking of possibilites of second plans, but the number of deserters is little among the urukin.

 

 

    To escape all this mess, the infamous Eath'Lur leaves the rally for a bit, writing on a book that would also be soon sent to his father through burning after a ritual.

 

    "Father, father, father. You know its about time. I do not ask for clemency, piety or compassion, nor understanding of this whole madness of the men that look for blood like wild beasts. But I remember, father, I remember the things we have done in the past for them or with them. My brothers might have betrayed the wood elves, but I do not take blame nor regrets. Its a chain of reactions because of what we have done wrong and what we have done right. But I have no regrets.

 

    War excites me, war is the answer for everything. But I do not like the way things are being played here. Most of the people are afraid, father, afraid of the Holy Empire being pointed at them if they side with us. They are afraid of them, but we will not bend, even if this results on our absolute ruin. We are prideful people, and I like this, father. Pride is good to keep your HONOUR. I remember when the shamans went to Sutica and erected a great totem. I tought this would be a sign of a possible, imminent alliance, but no, father, they are all afraid of Oren, so they turned their blades on us. The dwarves of the mountains were shown some love right at the brink of extinction of all their kin by our hands. We had shown absolute clemency, father.

 

    But who needs allies that you can't trust? Who needs allies that turns their blade on you on the utmost dire need? The biggest ally I have is you and myself, father, maybe some brothers, such as Vorgo, that stay loyal to their word until the end of times. We might lose our farmland, our herd, but not our figures; who we are, who we will be. The only back that bends is the back of my enemy that is snapped when I crush him. They call us animals, hunting lone brothers with large groups. They all are afraid, father, somewhat, in the end, we all are afraid. Writing won't change how poorly I fight on the battlefield, nor how my brothers fight. Their reign might be long and mostly triumphant, mustering the largest armies.

 

    People are afraid, so they turn their blades on their comrades for their own gain. But I do not care, father, even if the world comes together to take our houses, they won't take our pride; our courage; our honour. They might take them from the most cowardish brothers, but never MY honour. For the spirits, father, I shall brandish my sword, coated in the blood of the kin of the cowards towards the sky for all ancestrals to see our victory. For the forge of my soul, for the glory of our clan, glazog votar!"