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> Blood on the Moon, A Journey of Discovery
The Metal Mallet
post Jul 28 2007, 02:39 PM
Post #61


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Hehe, I think someone has watched Full Metal Jacket a few times. tongue.gif

Excellent update. Being goaded into attacking never seems to end nicely.


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treydog
post Aug 4 2007, 03:52 AM
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When I awakened, it was to behold a circle of nightmarish, tusked green faces looming over me. I cried out and tried to raise my hands to ward them off, but my arms were bound to my chest. Still, most of the frightening visages moved back, leaving only one, which contorted into an expression that I realized signified concern. The remaining Orc, which I now recognized the green-skinned creatures to be, gruffly warned me:

“Be still. You’ve got a broken collarbone at the least, and maybe some other damage, not to mention how hard you hit your head against that wall. We don’t have a healer; we strapped everything up as best we could, but it won’t help if you move around too much. I am Uloth gra-Ushar.””

I tried to speak in response, but only managed a raspy croak. She held a mug of water to my lips, and I sipped carefully. Trying to drink from a mug without the use of my hands was no treat- still, I managed to get most of the water inside me rather than outside. Somewhat refreshed, I tried again,

“What about healing potions?”

Uloth shrugged and shook her head.

“Same problem as the healer. We don’t have any. Well, only a few, and they’re for the most serious injuries. We aren’t exactly at the top of the list for supplies out here. You’ll just have to heal the old-fashioned way.”

This was intolerable. I did not have time to lie in bed for the weeks or even months it would take my body to repair itself. Louis Beauchamp certainly would not wait that long; worse yet, Mother might convince the Legion to release me from my enlistment. With the supply situation this critical, it would be hard for General Darius to justify feeding and tending a useless invalid. But that was a problem I could prevent. As Uloth turned to leave the room, I called her back,

“Fetch my traveling bag. There are plenty of restorative potions in there. Give me enough to heal this damage and I will donate the rest to the Legion. Beyond that, once I have use of my hands again, I know some healing magic.”

She disappeared in a rush, as if I had just imparted a shattering revelation.

Uloth did not return for some time. In fact, I had dropped into a troubled sleep when I heard the sound of someone clearing their throat beside the bed. I looked up to see General Darius staring down at me with a peculiar expression- something between a frown and a grin. When I struggled to sit upright, he reached out to assist me. And then, as if embarrassed by his solicitude, he did not speak for several uncomfortable minutes. The silence grated upon my nerves and I finally blurted out,

“It was my fault, sir. Trooper Carbo was trying to show me how to use the spear and I… I guess I tripped… or something. Please don’t send me back….”

I ran down to a stop as his expression finally resolved itself into a beaming smile.

“Send you back? Why would I want to do that? We need you and your talents here. I was just trying to figure out how to convince you to stay. I am a bit surprised you didn’t join the Imperial Cult, but we are glad to have you in the Legion. Carbo told me what happened- took full responsibility, so don’t worry about that. On his recommendation, I hereby promote you to Spearman.”

He held one of my healing potions to my lips and said kindly,

“Drink that down. When you feel ready, go find Carbo to continue your training.”

After giving the potion time to work, he untied the bindings on my arms and turned to leave. As he went out the door, I heard him laugh and say to himself,

“’Tripped or something!’ As if I had never heard that before!”

I swallowed one more potion and began to feel as if I would live. I swung my legs off the bed, but before I could begin to get back into uniform, Trooper Carbo came and stood in the doorway. He watched me carefully and then spoke.

“Look, kid, what happened was my fault. I intended for you to rush me- I just didn’t realize how quick you are. I was just going to deflect the spear and let you run past me. Instead, I had to really throw you. I wanted to get you mad, but I had no idea that you would blow up like that.”

He stopped to see how I was taking it, then went on:

“The General said you told him it was an accident and I appreciate that. But…don’t ever lie to Darius. He can spot a lie a mile off. The only reason he didn’t tear a strip off of you was because you were trying to protect somebody else.”

He came into the room and I finally saw something besides an apparently over-weight, aging soldier. A keen intelligence gleamed from his brown eyes and he moved with a confidence that had been won in hundreds of battles. I realized then that he was a professional, a man who had gained his skills the hard way. My mind raced as I tried to think of a way to become worthy in his eyes, a way to get him to accept me, to teach me. A long-ago conversation with my father came back to me then, a bit of advice that I had ignored, like so much else he had tried to tell me:

“When you need something from someone, don’t just march up and demand it as if it is your right. Treat people with the respect that they are due. And sometimes, especially in a place like this, with people from so many backgrounds, part of that respect includes speaking their language…”

Therefore, I drew myself up, saluted, and shouted,

“Spearman Treyson reporting himself fit for duty!”

Carbo laughed and then returned the salute, saying: “You’ll do, kid.”


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Black Hand
post Aug 4 2007, 02:12 PM
Post #63


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Impressive ,Trey. Most impressive.
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The Metal Mallet
post Aug 4 2007, 04:16 PM
Post #64


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Looks like things are beginning to swing on the upside for now. Nice update.


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"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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canis216
post Aug 5 2007, 12:17 AM
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Ha-Hah! The Legion needs Athlain! Nice, nice. If he learns as fast as he who must not be named lest Athlain get angry or irritated (AKA HWMNBNLAGAOI) he'll do very well.


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minque
post Aug 5 2007, 01:59 PM
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Now now, young Athlain! You just watch your back..your dear mom could just about appear and take you out of this mess...Now that would be a disappointment huh? But you know how mothers are! hehe....


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Chomh fada agus a bhionn daoine ah creiduint in aif�iseach, leanfaidh said na n-aingniomhi a choireamh (Voltaire)

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BSD-IES
post Aug 13 2007, 11:52 PM
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It might just be me, but this story is getting even more excited than The Story of Trey did. And that got me plenty excited enough. Maybe because it seems to be finding it's own direction.

I just sense a classic in the making with this.
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treydog
post Aug 18 2007, 11:48 PM
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The work of training continued to be brutal, despite the fact that Carbo and I seemed to have reached an understanding. He pushed me physically and mentally, forcing me to develop a toughness of mind and body. However, he was never again able to goad me into losing my temper, and I think he was secretly pleased. In addition to the running, the work with weapons, and the maintenance of my equipment, I was now the healer for the fort. No matter how weary I might be, I was awakened to treat all kinds of injuries- some minor, and others more serious. Even though the Empire was not at war with any other nation, the Legions were stretched thin. The outposts on Vvardenfell were lightly manned and infrequently supplied. No courier ever brought definitive word of why this was so, but rumors abounded. Uriel Septim was dying- was already dead- had been replaced by a doppelganger. The Death’s Head Legion would be ordered to Cyrodiil- would be disbanded- had been left to fend for itself. On and on the stories went, growing with every telling. Through all the storm of gossip, General Darius remained calm and aloof, seemingly untroubled. Trooper Carbo also ignored the swirling rumors, gruffly saying,

“My job is to follow orders…and so is yours.”

And so my endless days of training continued, learning new skills and then honing them to razor sharpness.

Some five weeks after I had broken my bones and earned my place in the Legion, a trooper came to me in the barracks with orders to “attend General Darius at your earliest convenience.” I had been with the Legion long enough to know that the last part of that message meant “right now,” so I gave my armor a quick buff and hastened to the Madach Tradehouse. Trooper Carbo was waiting along with the General, his face a mask of inscrutability. Darius ignored me for several long minutes, seemingly engrossed in some paperwork on his desk. I managed not to fidget or blurt out any questions, but I could feel a trickle of sweat running down my spine. My vivid imagination was a curse in this situation, for I kept envisioning unhappy reasons for this summons. The General had not spoken to me since he had discovered my talent for healing. That was not unusual- he was the commander and I was a lowly spearman. All of which meant that, in the normal course of events, a “request” to speak to Darius was not a good omen. Had something happened to my parents- my sisters? Had I somehow transgressed some unknown rule- transgressed it so badly that I faced official Legion discipline? Though I managed to keep my body still, my mind was racing, reviewing every bad deed I had ever committed. And still the minutes dragged by, unmarked by any sound other than the scratching of Darius’ pen on the papers before him. Just as my catalog of criminality had reached the time when, at the age of nine, I had dipped a little girl’s pigtails in the inkwell at school, the General looked up at me.

His intense scrutiny raised my heart-rate by another several beats per minute. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, frowning at me over them.

“One of my responsibilities as commander of the Death’s Head Legion is to make decisions about personnel. That is a burden I take seriously, because a bad choice on my part can get people killed.”

He paused, giving the import of his words time to sink in. When he seemed satisfied that I understood, Darius continued,

“For a number of reasons, I have closely followed your training. First, because we do not get many Imperial recruits here on Vvardenfell. In fact, we don’t get many recruits of any sort. That problem affects all of the Legions, and that means that every member must contribute, must do the work of two or three men.”

He again paused to fix me with that piercing gaze and then glanced at Trooper Carbo, who had stood silently behind his right shoulder the entire time.

“So, I have spoken with your trainer and considered the needs of the Legion. Athlain Treyson, please turn in your spear and Imperial chain mail. You are no longer a spearman of the Imperial Legion.”


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The Metal Mallet
post Aug 19 2007, 12:33 AM
Post #69


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Uh-oh! Cliffhanger! A classic spot to end an update if I do say so tongue.gif

Nice build up on the tension there trey, now I'm gonna feel like this until the next update!


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I am currently a Writer in The Order of Schola.
Official Fan Fiction Forum "Commentasaurus"

"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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BSD-IES
post Aug 19 2007, 12:36 AM
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You know, I'm beginning to think there should be some sort of law brought in, banning the use of cliffhangers tongue.gif

I suspect though that this is not the end of his Legion adventures, but that maybe certain duties requiring a special touch are forthcoming.

Unless of course Trey has found his whereabouts and brought some political pressure to bear....

Gah, I'll just have to wait and see. Patience has never been one of my strengths though, so please update soon, it's looking really good so far smile.gif
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minque
post Aug 19 2007, 11:48 AM
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Uhhh? Most peculiar.....I wonder..I think there´s a deeper meaning to this, Athlain wouldn´t be just expelled like that....Ach no, I think there´s something really fishy going on..mark my words...


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Chomh fada agus a bhionn daoine ah creiduint in aif�iseach, leanfaidh said na n-aingniomhi a choireamh (Voltaire)

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jack cloudy
post Aug 19 2007, 11:58 AM
Post #72


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Maybe promotion? If so, rejoice! Yet even heavier armour!


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canis216
post Aug 19 2007, 06:10 PM
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I too expect a promotion. The Legion likes to give you new armor from time to time--and it is indeed heavier. biggrin.gif


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treydog
post Aug 26 2007, 08:17 PM
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The words fell upon my ears like a hammer blow- “… no longer a spearman of the Imperial Legion.” After all the effort of training, after I had begun to believe that I had made a place for myself…. Numbly, I began to loosen the straps of my armor. Trooper Carbo moved to help me, and I stared at him in mute appeal. His face remained stony, giving away nothing of his thoughts. And, though my soul longed to cry out in protest, I would show these men that I had at least learned discipline. When I at last stood in padded tunic and leggings, Carbo initialed the quartermaster’s log, signifying the return of my equipment. That formality accomplished, I stood straight, waiting for the words that would forever release me from my oath to the Legion. Darius watched me closely, as if waiting for some word or sign. When I did not waver or speak, he nodded his head once and said,

“Well. It seems that I owe Trooper Carbo a septim.”

Then the general stood and Carbo disappeared behind me as I faced my commander. Darius picked up a scroll from his desk and began reading:

“Attention to orders. Due to his actions and accomplishments, it gives me great pleasure to promote Athlain Treyson to the rank of Trooper in the Imperial Legion.”

As my mind struggled to grasp the words I had just heard, Darius continued,

“As a Trooper, you will carry an Imperial steel broadsword and wear Imperial steel armor. Bear them proudly- you’ve earned them.”

His face broke into a smile and he clapped both hands upon my shoulders. Dazed, I allowed him to turn me around to face a grinning Carbo, who held my new equipment. The breastplate was a thing of beauty- more precious to me than any gemstone. The steel was covered with black leather and embossed with the silver and bronze horses of the Legion. Even more wonderful to my eyes was the Imperial broadsword. I drew the gleaming length of steel from its scabbard, and it seemed to have been made for my hand and no other. Although the new armor was even heavier than the chain mail I had previously carried, I did not feel its weight. Once I had finished adjusting the fit, Darius seated himself again and assumed a serious expression.

“I said earlier that I had watched you closely for a number of reasons, but I only mentioned one- the one that least concerned you personally. There is no delicate way to say this, so I will be blunt. Your presence is politically significant, but not because of you. Your father commands more power sitting quietly in Indarys Manor than do all the Legion forts on this island. It is said that, ‘If Trey sneezes, Vvardenfell catches cold.’ He defeated Dagoth Ur, ended the Blight, rose to power in the Houses and the tribes, and could have broken the Tribunal Temple if he wished…. And then he simply hung up his sword and settled down. Even now, so many years later, people wait to see what he will do next. They find it hard to believe that he has no interest in the uses of power. Which brings us back to you. Your father has never made any secret of his feelings about the Empire- or its military. The fact that his only son is now a member of the Legion has caused much discussion. People wonder if this is part of some deeply subtle move by Trey- or if there is a rift between you. And they wonder if that rift can be exploited. My own concerns are less complex- I serve the Emperor and look after the welfare of my troops. Your healing skills are a great help to me in that regard. And, whatever disruption your presence may cause, you also serve as an indirect form of protection. Those who might seek to harm me or my Legion will hesitate, fearful lest they appear to be attacking you. Your father is a dangerous and, above all, a persistent adversary. So you see, I too am playing a deep game. I tell you this because I believe that loyalty goes both ways and should be rewarded with honesty. Oh, and one last thing- it would be good if you wrote to your mother, letting her know how you are. I would consider it a personal favor.”

With that, he shook my hand and turned me over to Trooper Carbo, who escorted me out of the tradehouse.

As we walked through Gnisis, Carbo glanced at the sword I still clutched in both hands and grumbled,

“Well, mister, looks like we’re going to have to teach you how use that blade- and a shield.”

He gave me the crooked grin that meant hard work, and then changed the subject- somewhat.

“In a way, sword work is the easiest thing I have left to teach you. You’re a trooper now, and that’s supposed to mean something. First, you need to be smarter than that piece of steel in your hands. It isn’t just a matter of knowing how to use a sword- you have to know when to use it- and when to keep it sheathed. The best way to win a fight is to avoid it.”

My dismay at hearing the veteran Legionnaire echo my father’s words must have been plain on my face, for Carbo’s grin reappeared.

“That surprises you, does it? To hear old Carbo advise you to stay out of fights? Well, you’d better hear this loud and clear, if I don’t teach you anything else. We fight because we have to, because it’s our job. We don’t do it for fun or for glory. And another thing- when you wear that uniform, you are the Empire. So it’s not just Athlain pulling his sword on a man or elf, it’s the Legion ‘oppressing the downtrodden.’ Plenty of people already have plenty of reasons to hate the Legion- try not to give them any more.”

Our slow walk- that method of progress Carbo referred to as “proceeding,” brought us to a low wall overlooking the Samsi River. We sat and Carbo stared at the moving water in silence for some minutes, apparently content to simply watch the play of light on the ripples. At last he spoke in a meditative tone:

“I’ve been a trooper for over fifteen years, and it suits me. The General tried to promote me a time or two, but I told him ‘no’ flat out. Seems to me that ‘Agent’ is a stupid rank for a soldier, anyway. ‘Fore I ran off to join the Legion, I was a farmer- well, a farmer’s son, at least. I’ve got no desire to be a knight or an officer. That would fit me about like trousers on a guar.”

He turned to look me over carefully and continued,

“Now you could be an officer- if you don’t get your fool self killed first. You have the brains and the skill with people. Most new recruits have a rough time around here, what with the Orcs and their odd sense of humor. But you haven’t had any fights, and that’s none of my doing. They like you and they trust you. I saw how you calmed down Dul gro-Dush when he tangled with that kwama warrior and got his leg torn up. He was roaring and thrashing around, likely to stab anybody that came near, and you just put a hand on him and spoke, and he calmed right down. That’s a gift.”

He looked back toward the barracks and the fort.

“For some of these characters, the only way they can face combat is to get drunk- or mad. I don’t have to tell you that a bellyful of sujamma doesn’t make somebody a soldier- it just makes him dangerous, especially to himself. But counting on anger to carry you is just as bad. You already found out what happens when you lose your temper in a fight. Of course, you’re still here ‘cause I wasn’t trying to kill you. The next fellow may not have my charitable nature. I’m not saying it’s easy- some folks are good soldiers right up to the point that they have to kill another person. You haven’t faced that test yet. When you get to that place, you need to have a clear head.”

He turned back to the river, but his eyes were on some place much farther away, in time as well as distance. Speaking so softly that I had to strain to hear, he added,

“Gods willing, you won’t ever get used to it- but you will get to where you can go on….”

For just an instant, his brown eyes bore the same haunted look that I had sometimes surprised in my father’s blue ones.

This post has been edited by treydog: Nov 3 2007, 05:28 PM


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jack cloudy
post Aug 26 2007, 09:05 PM
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An excellent update.

I especially liked the warning about knowing when to avoid a fight. That's one lesson my Luper really should learn someday.


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The Metal Mallet
post Aug 26 2007, 09:36 PM
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I really like the fact that we delve more into Carbo's character in this update. This update proves he isn't just your stereotypical hard boat, but someone who has been effected by the things he has done in his life. Fantastic!


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I am currently a Writer in The Order of Schola.
Official Fan Fiction Forum "Commentasaurus"

"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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minque
post Sep 24 2007, 08:54 PM
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Wise words from Carbo, just let´s hope young mr Treyson listens....It is usually more efficient if someone outside the family tries to learn young hotshots a lesson of life.

I´m ashamed of myself....just found out I haven´t noticed this update until today.... huh.gif

Nevertheless....I´m sitting here waiting to hear more.....


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Chomh fada agus a bhionn daoine ah creiduint in aif�iseach, leanfaidh said na n-aingniomhi a choireamh (Voltaire)

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pdblake
post Oct 24 2007, 08:39 AM
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Just wondering if anyone knows if Treydog is alright? It's been a long while since he last posted.
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minque
post Oct 25 2007, 08:57 PM
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QUOTE(pdblake @ Oct 24 2007, 09:39 AM) *

Just wondering if anyone knows if Treydog is alright? It's been a long while since he last posted.

I think he´s ok....just suffering from what we call RL....Plenty of things to do...just like me.


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Chomh fada agus a bhionn daoine ah creiduint in aif�iseach, leanfaidh said na n-aingniomhi a choireamh (Voltaire)

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canis216
post Oct 26 2007, 03:15 AM
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He posted in the Coffee Shop a matter of days ago. Teaching demands a high degree of time and creativity--it's one of the reasons that I've been on my own writing hiatus.


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