The centaurs around you notice you astride Brighid and begin to mutter darkly, but before anything more can happen, a sound rings out across the valley.
THOOMthoom
One centaur, lightly armored and bearing only a spear across his back, beats a pair of deep, booming notes on a large drum strapped to his torso. The ranks of Starchaser warriors still their movements and stiffen to attention as the old scarred veteran Fionn raises his voice to address the warband.
“Warriors! Today is a dark day. The sun does not shine and the wind does not blow. Today, an evil stirs which we, your Council, have allowed to fester and rot away at the heart of our ancestral home, in the mists of Bannagh Macht.” Warriors shift uneasily, but Fionn continues to speak. “The evil has grown from when it first came. It controls the mists of the city and assaults the minds of those who grow near, and in the very heart, under the sacred hill, it has planted its roots deep.” Some of the warriors begin to mutter, and Fionn paces back and forth across the front line. He is encased, head to hoof, in heavy, articulated battle plate, and he holds a large, long-handled battle axe easily in one gauntleted fist. Only his head, scarred and gray and war-weary, is exposed to the chill night air.
Fionn speaks again, his voice booming out and cutting through the mutters and whispers like a sharp sword through fine silk. “But though the evil has grown, so have we! Today is dark -- but I say to you, we are Starchasers! It was not the sun which led our ancestors to these hills, it was the pattern of stars in the night sky! We are no strangers to the dark and still of night! We do not fear that which only dares to creep from its lair when the sun rests! I say to you, brave warriors, that the night is ours!”
A cheer rises from the assembled ranks, but Fionn does not stop there. “The coming battle will not be easy. Many of you will die. Perhaps I will join you! But though we may die this day, we will do so with our heads held high and our hearts unburdened. This is no petty border dispute, no raid against a neighboring tribe. This is a fight against true evil! I ask you, will you let this stand?”
“No! Never!” The very air roars with shouts of denial.
“The enemy is powerful and skilled in its dark powers. But I ask you, are you frightened?”
“No! Never!”
“Of course not! It is not us who should be!” He turns around and paws the ground with one gleaming, metal-plated leg. “It is the Tannath Taig who will finally, on this dark day, meet its long-delayed fate. We shall trample its manikins, reduce its dakhols to ashes, and rip every last tainted vine from our city! I ask you, warriors, who are we?” His voice rises to a thundering crescendo and the answer is deafening.
“STARCHASERS!”
“We are Starchasers, and we go today to war!” He begins to walk, then trot, and finally canter, and the army moves with him until over five hundred hooves are pounding through the mist. You cling tightly to Brighid, clutching around Riama and her mailed waist and digging your knees into her armored flanks to keep you steady as she runs with the rest of the army. The drum beats again and deep voices rise all around you.
thoom THOOM thumTHUM thoom THOOM thumTHUM
“’Cross misty vale, through dark of night,”
thoom THOOM thumTHUM thoom THOOM thumTHUM
This time, a second set of voices calls out in counterpoint to the first, high and clear.
“To war we go, to fight once more!”
“With gleaming arms, and armor bright,”
thoom THOOM thumTHUM thoom THOOM thumTHUM
Even the rhythm of the warbands’ hooves seems to shift to match the beat of the drums as you race through the star-lit night.
“Our foes while fierce, will fear our wrath,”
“With banners high, our spirits soar!”
thoom THOOM thumTHUM thoom THOOM thumTHUM
“Though some may fall, we shall not fail!”
“Let none resist, nor bar our path,”
thoom THOOM thumTHUM thoom THOOM thumTHUM
“And long before, the sun does rise,”
“Nor last the night, to tell the tale!”
thoom THOOM thumTHUM thoom THOOM thumTHUM
“The hills will ring, with vict’ry cheers!”
“We ride to war, beneath the skies,”
The deep voices fade to a basso rumble, leaving the tenors and sopranos to sing the final verse alone.
thoom THOOM thumTHUM thoom THOOM thumTHUM
“So sing of us, for many years!”
A cheer rises from the host and you find yourself cheering with them. The drum beats again, and the warriors launch into another song. The miles vanish into the sounds of drums, hoofbeats, and marching songs, and before you know it, the foggy streets of Bannagh Macht are spread out before you. The warding dome you saw on your first visit is nowhere to be seen; instead, there are shapes moving in the valley below you. Shadows churn the mist from hillside to hillside.
Comments