In all my current, imagined, and forgotten lives, I’ve never experienced any activity more invigorating than killing.
Not to say it’s the greatest feeling in the world, but damn if it doesn’t make me feel alive. The sweet, seductive rush of adrenaline surges through my veins, sharpening my senses and washing away my fatigue as my mind works in overdrive to process this wealth of new information. The cold air is thick with blood and sweat, my mouth dry and chest hot. Hoofbeats and triumphant cries blend with cadenced blows and dying screams, the symphony of battle ringing in my ears. The shadows dance in the firelight and I parse through the hazy forms to make out friend and foe alike as the former chase down the latter. Though yearning to dive into the tall grass and hunt my enemies down to the last, reason overcomes bloodlust and I rein Zabu in, giving the order to turn and leave the wretched Defiled to scurry away like the vermin they are. My blood boils and skin tingles as I search for an outlet for all my energy, and I cackle at the sliver of moon hanging in the night’s sky. “Shock and awe baby,” I yell, having little to no idea what I’m talking about. “Shock and awe. That’s how you kill Defiled.”
A chorus of cheers goes up and I take a beat to survey my surroundings, noting scrapes and cuts a plenty, but no missing faces or incapacitated soldiers, only a sea of eager grins and grim smiles. Time feels slower as my brain works faster, tallying injuries and reviewing my performance. Awesome as it is to send enemies flying with every hit, I can afford to scale things back. There’s no need to Reinforce and Amplify every single blow, one or the other will do. Reinforcement is more reliable while Amplification is more economical, but better safe than sorry so Reinforcement it is. Shutting off my Amplification Keystone with a thought, I wipe the blood from my eyes while mulling over the details of our deployment. Zian and BoShui are in the clear, while Bolin’s squad is mopping up the last of their opponents to the south, but fuck helping that fat bastard. He almost killed Yan after the Contests, so if he expects me to save his fat ass, he’s in for a rude awakening.
Besides, Bolin has like, a thousand soldiers and the rest of my forces are to the north, including Li Song who I need to stay within five kilometres of. No one can fault me for leaving Bolin to fend for himself, and if he can’t hold the line, there are other reserve soldiers standing by. I’m really only here because I’m bored.
Spotting Zian in the crowd, his disgruntled glare fills me with guilt so I speak quickly before he can open his mouth. “You’re a monster Zian, a killing machine.” Not even an exaggeration, he was waving his sabres so quickly they were little more than a blur. How does he stay so clean? I mean, he’s got some blood spatter on him, but I’m covered head to toe in gore and viscera. “Shame you’ve got a line to hold and can’t join us.” Or chew me out for almost shooting you in the back of the head. Okay, so my bad, I should’ve aimed higher, but in my defence, I wasn’t expecting him to stand up so quickly. Besides, the arrow wasn’t that close to hitting him, I had a good thirty... okay, maybe twenty centimetres of clearance.
Note to self: When firing over allies, aim in an arc.
Whatever. Zian’s alive and well, so no harm, no foul. Apologies can wait, because I have more important business to attend to. While I can’t steal Spectres from proper Defiled, these miserable bastards brought plenty of free-floating ghosties for me to Devour, which means I’d be a fool to pass up this all-I-can-eat buffet of Heavenly Energy delivered all the way from the Western Wastes. A shame the Defiled are running away instead of fighting to the death like they normally do, but the great thing about being outnumbered is that there’s always more enemies to kill.
Raising Unity above my head, I shout, “I haven’t killed enough. Have you?”
“FUCK NO!!”
Inwardly wincing at their vulgar reply, I make another mental note to talk to the officers about decorum before leading them away, yelling, “Then what are we waiting for?”
Spectres. Get. In. My. Belly!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aching from the strain of firing multiple arrows, Ravil rolled his right arm and stretched his shoulder muscles. While standing on his best girl Jinx gave him a raised platform to shoot from, the sweet girl didn’t like it when he put his full weight into drawing his bow. The pressure on her back made her uncomfortable, which in turn made her shiver and wiggle about, hoping to dislodge his foot from her spine. The first time she did it, Ravil almost accidentally loosed an arrow at the soldier practising beside him, so ever since, he’d taken to drawing his bow using only his upper body when standing on his quin. Fifteen shots at full draw seemed to be his limit, as opposed to thirty or forty if he had his feet on solid ground, but as things stood, it didn’t matter too much. These damned Defiled didn’t look like much and they couldn’t fight for shit, but Mother’s tits were they tough. Anything short of an arrow to the head or heart and they brushed it off like a bee sting, but he couldn’t get a good angle for a heart shot with BoShui’s retinue standing in front and those damned head-wraps were tougher than tough.
Nothing more disheartening than being the only archer around and doing shit all with your arrows. Guess he’d need to work a little harder and upgrade to a bow with a heavier draw. Things would be different if he had one of them Monstrosities, those big honking crossbows Pran and Saluk carried around, or better yet, if Ravil had permission to fire his sword-gun... Welp, there was no helping it. The bossman wanted to keep his little wonder weapons a secret and Ravil could see why. Powerful as they were, those spring-powered projectiles were wildly unreliable and inaccurate, at least for most. Their true strength would show in massed numbers, but by the time little lady Sumila crafted enough weapons and the troopers got enough practice, the war might already be over.
A damn shame if that were to happen. Ravil itched to show off his skills as he watched BoShui’s boys hold their own. They were strong, but Ravil was confident he could match most, though not BoShui himself. Despite his lacking fame and horrendous duelling record, the Paper Tiger of the Han Clan was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, no two ways about it. While Zian, Dastan, and the other little shits of the Empire fought neat and pretty, BoShui was a down and dirty brawler, a man after Ravil’s shrivelled, black heart. Sporting no less than four Spiritual Weapons, BoShui’s spiked vambraces and matching greaves served as both sword and shield, weapons which he used to full effect by barrelling into the Enemy like an enraged bull. There was no grace or elegance to BoShui’s movements, no flowery flourishes or sophisticated maneuvers, a rough and tumble smash and bash as he killed every Defiled who stepped into range. Armoured in heavy plate, BoShui fought with impunity in the thick of things, even using his runic helmet as a weapon when all else failed, a sight which left Ravil cackling in delight.
“Whoo,” he exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You see that? He head-butted that bastard’s face clean off, he did. How much you think one of them runic helmets run?” A better question would be where could Ravil go to steal one, but that wasn’t something you asked out loud.
“Responding to Great One, this slave knows not where to purchase Runic Helms and begs forgiveness.”
Suppressing a sigh, Ravil turned to Green One and shook his head, wishing Bulat was nearby to shoot the shit with instead. “It wasn’t a question question, you know? Just one of them things you ask without expecting a real answer.”
“...This slave understands.”
Seeing Green One’s confused expression, Ravil knew he didn’t. Strong as they were, these poor slave bastards were hardly older than the bossman himself, little fawns out in the world for the very first time. Their wide-eye gazes reminded Ravil of those new to life on the streets, those easy marks he targeted or took in under his wing depending on his mood, and today, he felt... Benevolent. “Look, it’s making conversation see? Friendly banter to bond over, that sort of thing. Like, I ask how much one of them costs, and you say ‘More than your scrawny ass could earn in a lifetime’ or ‘round about what you earn slobbering over twenty thousand cocks, so best get to sucking’, yanno?”
Lowering his head, Green One dropped to one knee and saluted. “This slave dares not slander Great One’s dignity.”
“Bah, what dignity?” Using his foot to nudge the kneeling soldier, Ravil gestured for him to stand. “My mother was a whore and my father one of her many clients. I grew up on the streets of Shen Huo fighting other children for scraps of rotten meat and mouldy bread. Joined the army to escape the hangman’s noose I did, and if not for the bossman’s mercy, I’d be a blind butt-boy in a whore house somewhere.” Grinning at the bewildered soldier, Ravil winked and continued, “I’m not telling you all this because I’m proud of my roots, mind you. I gutted the first bastard who called me a whore-son and my temper hasn’t improved by much since, but what I’m saying is, I’m no ‘Great One’, so ease up. We soldiers are brothers-in-arms fighting side by side, so none of your ‘this slave’ and ‘Great One’ business, you hear?”
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“Understood.” Green One hesitated. “Then... What is this... one to call...”
Mother in Heaven. If Ravil left it any longer, Green One’s head might explode. “Easy enough. I’ll call you soldier, and you call me commander, cause that’s what we are.”
“Understood, commander.”
“Good enough.” For now at least. Ravil’s attempts to build camaraderie would have to wait, but he wasn’t in any rush. In his experience, the best way to form a bond was to kill together, and there’d be plenty of killing to be done soon enough.
Wishing he had someone to banter with, Ravil gave up and raised his bow. Before he could pick out a target however, Jochi’s Sending arrived in his ear. “This is call-sign Undying. Commander Ravil, be advised, the bossman’s coming in from the south. Hold your fire and enjoy the show.”
Only then did Ravil think to look around at the other battle zones, and to his surprise, he found Zian’s area free and clear of living Defiled. Grinning like a madman, the bossman waited for Dastan’s horsemen to form up behind him before darting ahead on his quin, leading the charge from the front like always. With a roar heard over the din of battle, Falling Rain crashed into the mob of Defiled a full second before his horsemen joined him, wielding his spear like a God given flesh as he cut deep into the Enemy’s flank, their toughened bodies providing no defence from his bone-shattering blows. Bolstered by the bossman’s support, BoShui’s retinue went into a killing frenzy and the beleaguered Defiled held for mere seconds before crumbling on both fronts. Fleeing like frightened rabbits, the Defiled were cut down by the pursuing riders in the ensuing slaughter, pierced from behind and trampled under-hoof without putting up a fight.
Had Ravil timed it from the bossman’s appearance to finish, he reckoned it took less than a minute to clear the field of Defiled, a feat which would’ve taken BoShui’s boys at least an hour to mop up on their own.
Whooping at the night’s sky, the soldiers cheered for Falling Rain, but the bossman wasn’t done yet. After a quick headcount, he gathered his cavalry and pressed on, heading North to the next mob of Defiled held in place by Yellow Unit and led by the lovely Li Song. Shaking his head in equal parts awe and disbelief, Ravil chuckled and said, “Well Green One, looks like the bossman’s got this covered.” Hopping off of Jinx, he rummaged through his saddlebags and came out with dried meat for the quin and a wine-gourd for himself.
Drinking a small mouthful to celebrate, he offered the gourd to Green One who shrank away. “This soldier dare not. Commander, Military Regulation states that any soldier found intoxicated whilst on duty shall be subject to no less than five lashes with a maximum sentence of death by hanging depending on the state of inebriation.”
“Right, right.” Sticklers were never any fun. With his most charming grin, Ravil winked and said, “But it don’t matter if you don’t get drunk. A small taste never hurt nobody.” With a shake of the proffered wine-gourd, he continued, “So? How about it?”
Though obviously uncomfortable with the idea, Green One’s eyes shone with interest and curiosity. Gingerly accepting the gourd, he took a tentative sip and his stony face lit up in delight. “Good wine,” Green One said, even though it wasn’t. Until now, the poor bastard probably drank nothing but water, no proper way for a man to live.
Declining to take the gourd back, Ravil went back to his saddlebag and pulled out four more gourds. “Pass ‘em along, let everyone have a taste to celebrate the bossman’s victory tonight, the first of many in the days ahead.” That was all the wine he had and it’d be difficult to get more here on the front lines, but damn if he was gonna let these soldiers die without knowing the taste of alcohol. Despite the bossman’s impressive showing, Ravil was under no illusions. This war would be long and bloody, with many a death to come.
Such was life, but Ravil learned early to make the most of it, because the Mother was a fickle bitch. Today, Falling Rain was the Undying Savage, Unrivalled Beneath Heaven, but tomorrow, he might be the dead or dying Savage, destined for the stew pots of some Defiled lunatic.
Best to celebrate today, because you might not get a chance tomorrow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Though Song understood the concept of command, she quickly realized it was much easier in theory than in practice, for there were nuances of leadership she had yet to grasp. Take for example inter-unit communication. When Rain ordered her to support the Xue clan’s Captain positioned north of BoShui, Song sent Tursinai and Tenjin over to explain her intentions while she led Yellow Unit to stand guard beside them. Rather than showing gratitude for their assistance, the Xue Captain cursed out the husband and wife duo so loudly Song could hear him from where she stood. Knowing Tursinai’s temper, Song interrupted the Xue Captain’s tirade to call them back, which only earned her more of the foul-mouthed Captain’s ire.
What was Song supposed to do? Walk over and take his head for the insult, or swallow her pride and ignore him?
Ultimately, she chose the latter and waited for the Defiled in silence, which only emboldened the Xue clansmen as they joined their Captain in hurling insults and invectives at Song’s unit. Luckily, Yellow Unit was a disciplined and orderly bunch, unlike the rest of Rain’s unruly retinue. So reckless and untrustworthy, Rain specifically stationed Song between Ravil and Bulat so the two troublemakers couldn’t join forces and make a mess of things. While the two ruffians worked well together, Rain confessed he felt it unwise to leave them unsupervised and asked Song to keep an eye on them. Were Song in his place, she would have ordered both men lashed until they were ready to obey, but Rain had a soft spot for his former cripples, a flaw which might prove fatal soon enough. Instead of arming his most promising soldiers with Sister’s ingenious Spiritual Weapons, Rain gave them to survivors of Sanshu, as if to atone for the deaths of their comrades.
A foolish and sentimental gesture, but Song expected no less of a man who took in orphaned animals and turned majestic hunters into hapless fools. Poor Jimjam was so lacking in instinct he couldn’t even kill a rabbit trying to force its way into his mouth. Sweet George, so brave and reckless, Song missed him and his siblings dearly.
As the Defiled massed for the charge, Song took a quick glance around and realized why the Xue Captain was so incensed. Unlike her, Ravil and Bulat had stationed their units behind the soldiers they were supporting, which made Song’s actions of forcing her way onto the line seem discourteous at best. Perhaps the Xue Captain thought she was here to steal his glory or that she looked down on his ability, neither of which were true. Unsure how to make amends for her blunder, Song took Tursinai’s hand and asked for advice through Sending.
Her open-faced leather helmet doing little to hide her smile, Tursinai pulled Song into a hug. “Oh aren’t you just adorable,” she said, squeezing Song tight. “Listen carefully, sweet Li-Li. Yes, your actions offended the Xue Captain, but so what? He has no choice but to accept the insult, because you’re Li Song, Daughter of Akanai and Husolt, Sister to Sumila, and Khishig of the Bekhai. He can complain all he wants, but you’re far above his station.” Releasing Song from her embrace, Tursinai pinched Song’s cheeks and added, “And if he’s foolish enough to try anything underhanded, well that’s what hubby and I are here for, to look after the Chief Provost's precious daughter. Forget about the wounded pride of arrogant nobodies, you concentrate on the battle ahead.”
Warmed by Mama’s loving regard, Song took a deep breath and nodded before turning her attention back to the Defiled ahead. As an afterthought, she said, “I would like to test my blade. Please don’t act unless my life is in danger.”
“Yes Commander Li-Li. Hubby and I will butt out so you can have your moment, you glory-hungry fiend.”
Blushing at Tursinai’s sickly sweet timbre, Song turned to Yellow One and said, “Ready the torches. Prepare to engage.”
“Yes, Commander Li-Li.” Though they spoke the same words, Yellow One’s delivery lacked Tursinai’s teasing tone, a gruff and humourless woman who took Song’s every order with the utmost sincerity. Song rather liked her, and in a rare show of affection, she gently patted the soldier’s helmet as encouragement.
Though she wanted to say something to bolster morale, Song didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. Soon enough, the Defiled gathered their collective courage and charged ahead, screaming in their incomprehensible, guttural tongue as they surged forwards. “Light the braziers,” Song ordered and the fires blazed into existence, revealing their presence to the Defiled mob. “Weapons ready.” Grasping her sabre’s hilt, she left the weapon sheathed and Reinforced her body. Waiting until the Defiled were a mere ten meters away, she shouted, “Charge!”
And charge she did.
With a tortured hiss of metal on leather, Song’s sabre leapt from the sheathe and scythed out to claim her first three kills. Shifting to a two-handed grip, she brought her weapon up and around for an overhead chop, pushing down on the hilt with her upper hand and pulling up with the bottom one to maximize the impact. Her blade passed through the leather headwraps and cracked open her Defiled opponent’s skull, slicing a gash from crown to nose before she retracted her strike and raised her sabre high once again. No need to cleave him clean in half, Defiled or not, no one could survive with their brain in two pieces. Precision over power was the key in these engagements, for as the commander of this hundred-man unit, Song was responsible for killing any opposing Champions in the Enemy ranks, though she had yet to mark one worthy of her attentions.
Down came her blade and another Defiled’s head split from skull to nose, the cut so clean both halves stuck together after she extracted her blade. The corpse dropped like a sack of rice and Song moved on, cracking skulls and killing Defiled as easily as chopping firewood. It didn’t matter if her opponents used their weapons to block or if they rushed forward to kill before being killed, Song stayed the course no matter what. Those cowards who blocked lacked the strength to stop her blows and those brave enough to attack couldn’t pierce through her Runic breastplate. This battle was too simple, too easy, hardly the challenge she desired. She could only hope the truly strong Defiled were lurking in the rear, waiting for the Imperial defenders to tire themselves before willing to act.
If so, Song never got the chance to find out.
Unnoticed by the blood-hungry Defiled, Rain snuck his cavalry around to their rear and quietly formed ranks behind them. A reckless gambit, considering there could be more Defiled still hiding in the grass, but Rain was nothing if not reckless. Luckily, the Defiled had committed all their forces to the attack and there was no one left to encircle Rain’s cavalry, as expected for one beloved by the Mother above. After leisurely getting into place, Rain charged in and took the Defiled by complete surprise, and Song knew this battle was won.
To add insult to injury, after seeing her glory stolen away by Rain and Dastan, Song felt even worse for encroaching upon the Xue Captain’s territory. She knew she should apologize, but she bristled at the thought of wasting her hard earned coin on someone who wasn’t likely to appreciate it, so she decided she would leave it be. Like Tursinai said, Song was far above the nameless Captain’s station, so he would have to grin and bear it.
A rather thrilling experience and a first for Song, offering insult instead of receiving it, and truth be told, she rather enjoyed it. Still, she cautioned herself against making this a habit, else she cause too much trouble for Mama and Papa. As for the rest... it didn’t matter. This was merely the first of many battles to come, so Song would have plenty of chances to show the world Falling Rain wasn’t the only talented warrior among the Bekhai.
For she was Li Song, Khishig of the Bekhai, and she would make her family proud.
Chapter Meme