A Ritual

Messages for the Warriors' Guild
Cepharon
Posts: 2
Joined: Tue May 15, 2018 2:16 am
Guild: Warriors

A Ritual

Post by Cepharon »

The hide tent Cepharon constructed was large enough for a small group of Minotaur like him, but he sat alone. The only light was from the small smoldering coals in the fire pit in the center.

The hulking Minotaur grunted and adjusted his position. Sitting cross-legged was not normal for him. He opened his eye and pulled more herbs from the pouch at his side and sprinkled them over the coals. He stoked the coals with an ornately engraved staff and mumbled a half-remembered incantation in his native tongue.

A dagger at his side is still wet with his blood. He brings it to his other hand and cuts it ceremoniously over the flame. The resulting blood sizzles and steams as it hits the coals. He closes his eye again and breathes heavily of the smoke that has slowly accumulated in the room. He calls the names of his ancestors, as his Witch Doctor once instructed him.

"Kor-Marag. Lardum the Axe. Gormaron of the Pale Eyes..."

Before the list is finished, he hears a whsiper. His eye pops open eagerly, and he sees a familiar horned figure form from the tendrils of smoke.

"Matriarch!" Cepharon exclaims, dropping immediately to one knee. He slams a fist against his chest and bows his head reverently.

After a moment, the figure speaks. "Rise, child." Cepharon stands up stiffly in front of the figure. "What of your journey? Do your honor your Herd?"

"Matriarch! I have trained many moons with the warrior-guild. They are my brothers, now. They have taught me much. With each day, I grow stronger under the great teachings of the Warriors! And Matriarch, I have seen such wonders! The city-lands are even larger and more challenging than the stories tell. You were right. They do not only challenge my might. They challenge my senses and my mind."

The figure grins. "You have always been such a strong bull. But Cepharon. Strength alone is not enough to lead the warrior caste into victory. A warrior must be cunning. It is not enough to pommel your enemy to the dirt. You must outwit her at every turn if you are to be victorious. So tell me, young bull, what have you learned?"

He pauses a second and grinds his teeth before starting. "The common tongue is still difficult to me, Matriarch. I notice those who speak it look at me strangely when I speak common. This second language is very confusing. They have so many words! I have joined the warrior-guild, but there are many other warriors that are not of the warrior-guild. Some warriors dishonor their caste by using witchcraft to enchant their blades! Battlemages, they call themselves. And there are many words for witch-doctors in these lands: sorceror, prophet, Wizard, Enchanter, Warlock, Druid...This confuses me greatly. There are even warriors called "Barbarians" who I have seen wield their bony axes with as much might and skill as any of our own. How can this be? Warriors are warriors! Though these barbarian-warriors do not use steel. I thought it was to show their might - that they did not need steel to beat their enemies. But a Barbarian tells me it is to honor their ancestors? I do not understand this. Why would their ancestors not want them to use every tool at their disposal to slay their enemies?"

The figure shakes her head slowly. "You stubborn bull! You have much to learn of other cultures. I can think of many bones as strong as steel. Just because these 'Barbarians' do not use what we use does not make them any less formidable! You can laugh at them and refuse to understand them all you want, but when they drive their bones through your gut for dishonoring them, it will be they who are the ones laughing! You need to learn to recognize that there are herds and cities as capable as our own. Our way is not the only way! You must learn to see the ways of others, lest you underestimate them. That is the ultimate failing of a hunt leader: to underestimate her enemies."

"Your words have wisdom as always, Matriarch. You shame me..."

The smoke billows around Cepharon for a moment. "I see you have earned many scars. Good. You have learned well from them?"

"Aye, Matriarch. I have. I lost one horn in contest with a great dragon-kin called Fear. I charged her, rushing with blade in hand, hoping to finish it with one mighty blow. I almost had her! I saw the look of surprise in her eyes. But she dodged. But you would be proud, Matriarch! I did not let this stop me. I charged again and again, yet she dodged every time. Eventually, she grabbed me and flew into the air, dropping me head-first onto the hard ground the city-dwellers call "stone". I earned much honor with my battle scar that day."

"Honor is all very well, but what did you learn, young one?" The smoke swirls around to the front of Cepharon.

"To charge faster! I will train endlessly and bring pride to my herd! I will become fast enough to charge the mighty dragon and-!" The stick he had used to prod the coals suddenly flies in the air and *THWACK*, strikes his head. He grunts in frustration. "Agh! What have I done wrong, Matriarch?" he howls despondently.

"You warrior-caste and your talk of 'honor' and 'pride'. There is honor to be gained from failure, that our herd knows better than any other. Yes, through failure, we become stronger, but by Kor-Magnus's name, Cepharon, actually learn something from that failure for once! You say you charged this 'dragon-kin', yes?"

"Y-yes, Matriarch..."

"And you almost caught her off guard?"

"Yes! Yes, I was so close! If only I train more-" The staff raises threateningly in the air, causing Cepharon to immediately stop what he was saying.

"Training has nothing to do with it, if you're training in the wrong techniques! We sent you to the city-dwellers to learn Cepharon, not swing your axe until your arms fall off!" The smokey figure pauses for a moment and a smaller puff of smoke escapes its nostrils in a sigh. "Cepharon, you can charge and charge again until your horns fall off! And by Zir's beard, you will be the fastest, strongest bull in the lands! This I know, my son. But if your enemy knows this - knows you are going to bull-rush them every time they engage you - they will know how to defeat you. This dragon-kin, as you call her, she could read you like a witch-doctor reads bones! You must learn to do what your enemy does not anticipate. Strike when they least expect it! I must leave now, my son. Continue learning. Honor your herd."

"Yes, Matriarch! I will do as you say!"

But before he can finish, the stick falls to the ground and the form dissipates, leaving only the mundane smoke of the coals. Cepharon sits.

"It seems I have much to learn of being a Warrior..."

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