Post by Lantlas on Aug 6, 2008 0:07:06 GMT -5
This is part of a new RP I wrote. Something different, hope you like it.
July 3rd, 1863
“The battle is lost, sire!”
Hoards of grey coats running his field of vision, many were obviously abandoning hope. The Charge of General Pickett had been a dismal failure, and the advancement up the hill was like running into a brick wall. Eldarin lay low to the ground, tightly grasping the shotgun he had grabbed from a fallen soldier. A pair of feet rushed past his head, and seconds later, Eldarin was face to face with a bloody mess. Several more men advanced past him, and proceeded to meet their maker in a most graphic fashion.
Eldarin, almost in an unconscious state of mind, remained as his division scattered away or fell on the field. The grass was stained with the blood of the fallen, and the cries of anguish from the injured were horrifying to bear. Several bluecoats approached some nearby wounded greycoats, firing several shots with a pistol to put them out of their misery.
Cannonfire clapped like thunder, echoing through the hills and returning with a vengeance. The picking sound of muskets firing after the retreating greycoats sparkled about the horizon, even a few whizzing past Eldarin’s head as he tried to remain as concealed as possible among the fallen. Coming upon one such unfortunate soldier, a small book was falling out of his breast pocket, stained in the blood of his mortal wound. Eldarin reached carefully, pulling the flapping pages out of the wind of danger.
“Dearest Abigail, we’re so close to home now. My thoughts are only occupied by the knowledge that I will one day return to your love. I’m sure this awful conflict will draw to a close, and we’ll be reunited when I return home to you. Your beautiful eyes and the thought of your embrace and kiss keep me going through these turbulent times. We’ve crossed the state border back into our home of Pennsylvania, and if we keep heading north towards Chambersburg, I’m sure I’ll be able to see you once again. All my love, Elston Alcala.” Eldarin carefully removed the page, with all the intentions of bringing it to the wife of the soldier. After all, the town was only a short walk away, and how many Alcalas could there be in the town?
Bodies decorated the landscape; thousands of them slumped over one another, each bravely facing the flurry of ammunition from the countering countrymen. Gettysburg, Pennsylvania had become an eternal bloodbath, and would surely be remembered in the centuries to come. The cannon fire finally began to cease, and as Eldarin carefully scanned the hill below, he realized that he was the only survivor still remaining of the attack. The ones who hadn’t been killed, if there were any, had made their escape.
As Eldarin crawled on his elbows, he felt the presence of cold metal on the back of his neck. “Drop it, Rebel.” As comforting as the eternal sleep would be, Eldarin instinctively released hold of his rifle, and it was quickly gathered by a bluecoat. Several hands pulled him to his feet, and he rose almost a foot above all the men standing around him, and he could hear their gasps. This hadn’t been uncommon since Eldarin had re-emerged from solitude, and one of his size was an impressive fit for the regiment.
“Is your hair blue, son?”
“Yes, it is,” Eldarin responded.
He felt an elbow in his back. “You will address him as General, Sir. Understood?”
“Yes, it is blue, General Sir,” Eldarin repeated with a slight hint of sarcasm.
The bearded general took several steps around the giant warrior, eyeing him as the other union soldiers stood in amazement of the behemoth. Most of them were unsure what their general wanted with this greycoat, but the orders to keep the blue-haired one alive were not to be disobeyed, or their surviving-battle celebration would be cut rather short. Finally, the general stood in front of Eldarin once more.
“You are dismissed, gentlemen.”
“But General…”
“Dismissed, gentlemen,” the general repeated.
The supporting soldiers slunk away, returning to their duty of collecting the bodies. The general made a head motion for Eldarin to follow, and he did so. The two journeyed in silence towards the woods, noting the stream had turned red from the blood of the fallen. Eldarin hadn’t been surrounded by so much death in hundreds of years, and couldn’t understand how the humans could do such things to each other.
Truthfully, Eldarin didn’t even know what the war was about. All he knew was that his home was being threatened, and any and all men were encouraged to take up arms. “The battle would be over in several months,” he remembered the criers saying. “We’ll be free and independent of them damn yankee sonsa bitches!”
Eldarin, not sure of what a yankee sonsa bitch was, regardless took up arms at the notion of being free and independent once more. Warfare had certainly changed since Eldarin last dueled with Bruen Wyrmwood on the colonial front. Firesticks were common, swords were secondary, and large firesticks would explode and blow things up. No longer did the men seek cover in their surroundings and fight with tactics, but rather marched straight into one another. This concept seemed a bit foolish to the Elven Warrior, but when he saw those who disagreed were not thought fondly of, he kept his mouth shut about it.
What Eldarin and everyone else thought would be a quick conflict turned into years of misery and death. Everyone Eldarin had met when he’d signed up; he’d watched them die at the hands of cannonfire, long range artillery, bullet wounds, bayonet charges, and sickness. He almost felt guilty surviving when so many others had fallen near him, but he continued on as a warrior always does.
These thoughts ran through Eldarin’s mind as the bluecoat general strolled along the Bloody Run next to him, carefully stepping over the deceased of both blue and grey. When they reached the rocks of Devil’s Den, where several greycoat snipers lay slumped over their perches, the general took a seat on a flatstone, and implied that Eldarin should do the same.
The two warriors of opposition sat next to each other in the silence in which they’d been walking for several minutes, each waiting for the other to make an aggressive statement or motion. Neither did. Eldarin knew that his army had fled, and anything done to the respective general would result in a barrage of bullets from the remaining enemy.
“What’s a man like you doing with these Rebs, son?”
These Rebs, the men Eldarin had fought alongside, seemed so inanely thought of by this general. Eldarin couldn’t help but wonder where the condescending came from, but at the same time, hours earlier the two sides had been trying to kill each other for three days, so even the most mundane would at least be frustrated. “I merely signed up to protect my homeland, General Sir.”
“You can drop the informalities, son,” the general laughed. “Some of those guys just take things too seriously sometimes. The name’s Wormwood.”
“Eldarin, Sir.”
“There’s a name I’ve never heard before,” the general replied. “That some kinda southern thing?”
“Southern of what, Sir?”
The general quickly caught on that this fellow was either stupid or was completely unaware of what was going on. He put his hand on the enemy’s shoulder, and sighed several times. “Son, do you even know what’s going on here?”
“Besides the bloodshed and conflict, Sir?”
“Besides that, yes Eldarin.”
“I do not,” Eldarin answered. “I was told our homeland was under attack, and I did what I could to protect it.”
“Where is your homeland, Eldarin?”
“I don’t know, Sir, but I believe I’ve heard it referred to as South Caroline,” Eldarin explained.
“Ah, South Carolina, the first to succeed,” General Wormwood noted. “No surprise they’d want to sign up a man of your stature. Shame they didn’t tell you what you were fighting for. I do admire your loyalty and eagerness to defend the only home you know. I only wish you’d know why you were defending it.”
“Beyond the protection of what is ours, what is there to know, Sir?” Eldarin inquired.
General Wormwood sighed again, and looked into the distance, where the bodies were being piled and prepared for burial. “Some would say it’s over slavery. They say God created all men equal, but the slaves haven’t been recognized as men by many since they first started settling here.”
“How can you not recognize a living being as one?” Eldarin asked, very confused.
“I don’t know, Eldarin,” General Wormwood admitted. “It’s just something we’ve come to know. There’s really no explanation I can give you that would suffice.”
“Why would you defend such a thing, Sir?”
“Eldarin…” General Wormwood started, realizing Eldarin was still a bit confused. “Your side is the one with the slaves.”
Eldarin sat in silence, unsure of what to make of himself. He’d been fighting a battle on the side of people who didn’t believe their fellow brother deserved to be an equal, or even a person. Eldarin felt especially disgusted when he recalled the incident where several of his men had killed the dark-skinned children in their homes by locking the doors and burning them alive, and Eldarin remained in silence so as not to be burned himself. What had happened to his honor? What had become of him? Once a head knight of his Elven village, he had been reduced to fighting without a cause.
“So much death,” Eldarin spoke, noting of several more bodies being carried off the rocks. “I never understood how you hu… people, could do this to each other. The things I’ve seen since this war began; I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shed from my memories. Sometimes I wish I’d been one of the fallen, so as not to see another day of this conflict, but my duty has led me to pursue some sort of reckoning, a righteousness that perhaps I’d not known before. But at no time would I condone the treatment of any man as property, Sir. I hope you believe that.”
General Wormwood cracked a smile, stood up, and motioned for Eldarin to continue their walk, returning to his men on the battlefield. “That’s why I spared you, son. Something inside of my mind told me that you were different, that perhaps you didn’t realize what was going on or why you were here.”
“And what was that, Sir?” Eldarin asked curiously.
“The fact that everyone else had run away, but you were still there. You didn’t run when the rest had died or fled, and there’s something to be said about that. Either genuine stupidity or ignorance, and while I’ve realized you’re not lacking intelligence, I certainly hope before you engage in warfare again, you’ll know why you’re fighting and those you’re fighting for.”
“General Wormwood?”
“Yes, son?” Wormwood turned back towards him several feet away.
“Those boys, the ones on the other side… They may not agree with you, and they may have been trying to kill you too, but remember please… Some of them were only trying to defend what they knew and loved. They meant no ill harm, and probably had no idea of the slave treatment of which you spoke.”
“I do realize that, son,” the General answered, “but once the gun is fired in your direction, you can’t be concerned with who is doing it. General rule of survival, and in war, many are lost and blood is shed. Unfortunately, that’s the way the story is written.” The General took several steps back towards Eldarin, looking up into his eyes. “Now you have some decisions to make. You can return to your army and fight for what you already know is an unjust cause. You can risk falling like your brothers for something you don’t believe in, and you can bear witness to more blood and death. Or, you can find your own way. Your path may take you places that will escape you from these sights, son. It’s up to you to find out. I hope you make the right decision.”
The General patted him on the shoulder several times. Eldarin quickly shed himself of the uniform of the greycoat, and sped off into the woods. He had to find his way back home, and he hoped no one would recognize him on the way. After all, he had a new daughter to take care of, and he’d be no good a father if Galliere had to introduce their little girl to a rock on the ground with his name on it.
July 3rd, 1863
“The battle is lost, sire!”
Hoards of grey coats running his field of vision, many were obviously abandoning hope. The Charge of General Pickett had been a dismal failure, and the advancement up the hill was like running into a brick wall. Eldarin lay low to the ground, tightly grasping the shotgun he had grabbed from a fallen soldier. A pair of feet rushed past his head, and seconds later, Eldarin was face to face with a bloody mess. Several more men advanced past him, and proceeded to meet their maker in a most graphic fashion.
Eldarin, almost in an unconscious state of mind, remained as his division scattered away or fell on the field. The grass was stained with the blood of the fallen, and the cries of anguish from the injured were horrifying to bear. Several bluecoats approached some nearby wounded greycoats, firing several shots with a pistol to put them out of their misery.
Cannonfire clapped like thunder, echoing through the hills and returning with a vengeance. The picking sound of muskets firing after the retreating greycoats sparkled about the horizon, even a few whizzing past Eldarin’s head as he tried to remain as concealed as possible among the fallen. Coming upon one such unfortunate soldier, a small book was falling out of his breast pocket, stained in the blood of his mortal wound. Eldarin reached carefully, pulling the flapping pages out of the wind of danger.
“Dearest Abigail, we’re so close to home now. My thoughts are only occupied by the knowledge that I will one day return to your love. I’m sure this awful conflict will draw to a close, and we’ll be reunited when I return home to you. Your beautiful eyes and the thought of your embrace and kiss keep me going through these turbulent times. We’ve crossed the state border back into our home of Pennsylvania, and if we keep heading north towards Chambersburg, I’m sure I’ll be able to see you once again. All my love, Elston Alcala.” Eldarin carefully removed the page, with all the intentions of bringing it to the wife of the soldier. After all, the town was only a short walk away, and how many Alcalas could there be in the town?
Bodies decorated the landscape; thousands of them slumped over one another, each bravely facing the flurry of ammunition from the countering countrymen. Gettysburg, Pennsylvania had become an eternal bloodbath, and would surely be remembered in the centuries to come. The cannon fire finally began to cease, and as Eldarin carefully scanned the hill below, he realized that he was the only survivor still remaining of the attack. The ones who hadn’t been killed, if there were any, had made their escape.
As Eldarin crawled on his elbows, he felt the presence of cold metal on the back of his neck. “Drop it, Rebel.” As comforting as the eternal sleep would be, Eldarin instinctively released hold of his rifle, and it was quickly gathered by a bluecoat. Several hands pulled him to his feet, and he rose almost a foot above all the men standing around him, and he could hear their gasps. This hadn’t been uncommon since Eldarin had re-emerged from solitude, and one of his size was an impressive fit for the regiment.
“Is your hair blue, son?”
“Yes, it is,” Eldarin responded.
He felt an elbow in his back. “You will address him as General, Sir. Understood?”
“Yes, it is blue, General Sir,” Eldarin repeated with a slight hint of sarcasm.
The bearded general took several steps around the giant warrior, eyeing him as the other union soldiers stood in amazement of the behemoth. Most of them were unsure what their general wanted with this greycoat, but the orders to keep the blue-haired one alive were not to be disobeyed, or their surviving-battle celebration would be cut rather short. Finally, the general stood in front of Eldarin once more.
“You are dismissed, gentlemen.”
“But General…”
“Dismissed, gentlemen,” the general repeated.
The supporting soldiers slunk away, returning to their duty of collecting the bodies. The general made a head motion for Eldarin to follow, and he did so. The two journeyed in silence towards the woods, noting the stream had turned red from the blood of the fallen. Eldarin hadn’t been surrounded by so much death in hundreds of years, and couldn’t understand how the humans could do such things to each other.
Truthfully, Eldarin didn’t even know what the war was about. All he knew was that his home was being threatened, and any and all men were encouraged to take up arms. “The battle would be over in several months,” he remembered the criers saying. “We’ll be free and independent of them damn yankee sonsa bitches!”
Eldarin, not sure of what a yankee sonsa bitch was, regardless took up arms at the notion of being free and independent once more. Warfare had certainly changed since Eldarin last dueled with Bruen Wyrmwood on the colonial front. Firesticks were common, swords were secondary, and large firesticks would explode and blow things up. No longer did the men seek cover in their surroundings and fight with tactics, but rather marched straight into one another. This concept seemed a bit foolish to the Elven Warrior, but when he saw those who disagreed were not thought fondly of, he kept his mouth shut about it.
What Eldarin and everyone else thought would be a quick conflict turned into years of misery and death. Everyone Eldarin had met when he’d signed up; he’d watched them die at the hands of cannonfire, long range artillery, bullet wounds, bayonet charges, and sickness. He almost felt guilty surviving when so many others had fallen near him, but he continued on as a warrior always does.
These thoughts ran through Eldarin’s mind as the bluecoat general strolled along the Bloody Run next to him, carefully stepping over the deceased of both blue and grey. When they reached the rocks of Devil’s Den, where several greycoat snipers lay slumped over their perches, the general took a seat on a flatstone, and implied that Eldarin should do the same.
The two warriors of opposition sat next to each other in the silence in which they’d been walking for several minutes, each waiting for the other to make an aggressive statement or motion. Neither did. Eldarin knew that his army had fled, and anything done to the respective general would result in a barrage of bullets from the remaining enemy.
“What’s a man like you doing with these Rebs, son?”
These Rebs, the men Eldarin had fought alongside, seemed so inanely thought of by this general. Eldarin couldn’t help but wonder where the condescending came from, but at the same time, hours earlier the two sides had been trying to kill each other for three days, so even the most mundane would at least be frustrated. “I merely signed up to protect my homeland, General Sir.”
“You can drop the informalities, son,” the general laughed. “Some of those guys just take things too seriously sometimes. The name’s Wormwood.”
“Eldarin, Sir.”
“There’s a name I’ve never heard before,” the general replied. “That some kinda southern thing?”
“Southern of what, Sir?”
The general quickly caught on that this fellow was either stupid or was completely unaware of what was going on. He put his hand on the enemy’s shoulder, and sighed several times. “Son, do you even know what’s going on here?”
“Besides the bloodshed and conflict, Sir?”
“Besides that, yes Eldarin.”
“I do not,” Eldarin answered. “I was told our homeland was under attack, and I did what I could to protect it.”
“Where is your homeland, Eldarin?”
“I don’t know, Sir, but I believe I’ve heard it referred to as South Caroline,” Eldarin explained.
“Ah, South Carolina, the first to succeed,” General Wormwood noted. “No surprise they’d want to sign up a man of your stature. Shame they didn’t tell you what you were fighting for. I do admire your loyalty and eagerness to defend the only home you know. I only wish you’d know why you were defending it.”
“Beyond the protection of what is ours, what is there to know, Sir?” Eldarin inquired.
General Wormwood sighed again, and looked into the distance, where the bodies were being piled and prepared for burial. “Some would say it’s over slavery. They say God created all men equal, but the slaves haven’t been recognized as men by many since they first started settling here.”
“How can you not recognize a living being as one?” Eldarin asked, very confused.
“I don’t know, Eldarin,” General Wormwood admitted. “It’s just something we’ve come to know. There’s really no explanation I can give you that would suffice.”
“Why would you defend such a thing, Sir?”
“Eldarin…” General Wormwood started, realizing Eldarin was still a bit confused. “Your side is the one with the slaves.”
Eldarin sat in silence, unsure of what to make of himself. He’d been fighting a battle on the side of people who didn’t believe their fellow brother deserved to be an equal, or even a person. Eldarin felt especially disgusted when he recalled the incident where several of his men had killed the dark-skinned children in their homes by locking the doors and burning them alive, and Eldarin remained in silence so as not to be burned himself. What had happened to his honor? What had become of him? Once a head knight of his Elven village, he had been reduced to fighting without a cause.
“So much death,” Eldarin spoke, noting of several more bodies being carried off the rocks. “I never understood how you hu… people, could do this to each other. The things I’ve seen since this war began; I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shed from my memories. Sometimes I wish I’d been one of the fallen, so as not to see another day of this conflict, but my duty has led me to pursue some sort of reckoning, a righteousness that perhaps I’d not known before. But at no time would I condone the treatment of any man as property, Sir. I hope you believe that.”
General Wormwood cracked a smile, stood up, and motioned for Eldarin to continue their walk, returning to his men on the battlefield. “That’s why I spared you, son. Something inside of my mind told me that you were different, that perhaps you didn’t realize what was going on or why you were here.”
“And what was that, Sir?” Eldarin asked curiously.
“The fact that everyone else had run away, but you were still there. You didn’t run when the rest had died or fled, and there’s something to be said about that. Either genuine stupidity or ignorance, and while I’ve realized you’re not lacking intelligence, I certainly hope before you engage in warfare again, you’ll know why you’re fighting and those you’re fighting for.”
“General Wormwood?”
“Yes, son?” Wormwood turned back towards him several feet away.
“Those boys, the ones on the other side… They may not agree with you, and they may have been trying to kill you too, but remember please… Some of them were only trying to defend what they knew and loved. They meant no ill harm, and probably had no idea of the slave treatment of which you spoke.”
“I do realize that, son,” the General answered, “but once the gun is fired in your direction, you can’t be concerned with who is doing it. General rule of survival, and in war, many are lost and blood is shed. Unfortunately, that’s the way the story is written.” The General took several steps back towards Eldarin, looking up into his eyes. “Now you have some decisions to make. You can return to your army and fight for what you already know is an unjust cause. You can risk falling like your brothers for something you don’t believe in, and you can bear witness to more blood and death. Or, you can find your own way. Your path may take you places that will escape you from these sights, son. It’s up to you to find out. I hope you make the right decision.”
The General patted him on the shoulder several times. Eldarin quickly shed himself of the uniform of the greycoat, and sped off into the woods. He had to find his way back home, and he hoped no one would recognize him on the way. After all, he had a new daughter to take care of, and he’d be no good a father if Galliere had to introduce their little girl to a rock on the ground with his name on it.
