Friday, March 8, 2024

Word: Resolute

 

resolute

[ rez-uh-loot ]
 
adjective
  1. firmly resolved or determined; set in purpose or opinion: Her parents wanted her to marry, but she was focused on her education and remained resolute.

  2. characterized by firmness and determination, as the temper, spirit, actions, etc.: The mayor was asked to take resolute action against the looters.

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                   The lesser officer approached Gen. Hawth. The general eyed the man out of the corner of his eyes. The man was fairly large, and had the markings of a sergeant on his arm. Other than that, there the man was just like any other solider.

                   “What is it, sergeant.” Hawth said.

                   “Sir, we are preparing to march through the pass. Some of the scouts went to check for ambush, but none were detected. The clairvoyants say the same. No ambush awaits in the pass.”

                   “Good. I take it there’s more though?”

                   “Yes, sir. I wouldn’t call it a problem, really. But there is one man standing in the middle of the pass. Heavy armor, and no weapons. Just two shields. He’s wearing enemy livery. We were just going to push passed him, but some of the others thought this should be reported.”

                   “Hm. Interesting. They left a defender behind. How curious.”

                   His mind reeled with possibilities. The pass was wide enough for fifty men to march abreast. One man could not hold such an area, even a defender. They could simply give the man a wide berth and he would be nearly useless. Or they could simply crush him with numbers. It wouldn’t even take that many. Just a squad or two and he would be a corpse. There was something off about it.

                   Hawth rose. “Take me to see this defender.”

                   The sergeant saluted and turned. The general followed. It did not take long to see the pass, and the entry. The defender was quite large, but not overly so. His armor showed signs of care and heavy maintenance. Evidence that the man had worn it in many battles and lived through all of it. His twin kite shields bore similar signs of use, and the edges were sharpened enough to rival most swords. Hawth could almost respect such a man. It did not change what had to happen.

                   There was one problem though.

                   “Sergeant.”

                   “Yes, sir?”

                   “You failed to mention the chains.”

                   The entry to the pass was covered with them. Thick, glistening chains with razors and spikes attached to the links. They were numerous enough to form a nearly impassable barrier, and were sunk deep into the rock of the ground and walls of the pass. There was only one entry, and it was directly behind the defender.

                   “They…were not there before, sir.” The sergeant said.

                   Hawth eyed the man critically. There was no sign of deception. In fact, there was quite a bit of confusion in the man’s face. Magic then. Magic chains. A single way through with a defender standing in front of it. Hawth sighed.

                   “Damn it. A Resolute Defender. That changes our plans. Hold the men back until we can deal with him.”

                   “Sir? He might have some magic, but he can’t be a mage. Can’t our specialists dispel the chains and let us move through as before?”

                   “Ah, yes. I suppose you wouldn’t know about this. The practice is out of favor in most places. A Resolute Defender, a real one, is not something we can easily deal with. Oh it’s true he won’t be able to take us all on at once, but to face him would incur an unfortunate number of casualties. Resolute Defenders, you see, are not mages. They are closer to warlocks, safe for the source of their power comes from the divine, rather than the infernal. They give something up and get the power to infallibly protect something. One thing. One thing that they stand guard over until they die. And they are annoyingly good at it. Since the source of his power is divine, the mages won’t be able to dispel them easily, and I am certain he has more tricks up his sleeves. They’ll all be geared towards defense, but they’ll be good at it. Very good.”

                   “So, what should we do, sir?”

                   “Hm, well, we can’t move him. And we certainly can’t bribe him. Men like that won’t give into such temptation easily. Nor can we outlast him, as he’s fueled by his purpose now. No food, water or sleep. Hm. We’ll just have to test him. See what he’s made of. Have all archers and ranged spellcasters target him and fire at will with whatever they can spare.”

                   The sergeant saluted again. “Yes, sir!”

                   The man ran off to deliver Hawth’s orders. The general stayed where he was, watching. A true Resolute Defender was a rare thing. Seeing one in action was a rare treat. And witnessing the fall of such a man was not something to be done lightly. He would stay. He would watch. And, even though the man was an enemy, he would give the lone defender all due honors. It was the least he could do for a man willing to give up everything to protect him home.

    ******************************** 

    Ever hear of the law of inverse ninja? It basically says that one ninja is an unstoppable killing machine, while a bunch of ninjas are a faceless incompetent mob. Of course, it applies to many things other than ninjas as well. Think it applies here, or will this be a noble sacrifice type deal?

Saturday, March 2, 2024

Word: Bellwether

 

bellwether

[ bel-weth-er ]
noun
  1. a wether or other male sheep that leads the flock, usually bearing a bell.

  2. a person or thing that assumes the leadership or forefront, as of a profession or industry: Paris is a bellwether of the fashion industry.

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               He was ready. He had trained for this moment since he was a child. His friend was there, holding him back. But not for long. Soon, he would be set loose. Soon he would do the task he knew, deep in his bones, that he was born to do.

               His friend let him go. He ran. He ran and he sped by. The large, fluffy ones stood by, mostly ignoring him. These were his wards. His charges. Those he had to protect. His job was to ensure they all stayed together and that they would go home at night. And he knew he would be good at it.

               He ran, feeling his blood surging through every bit of his body. The fluffy ones backed away. He was looking for one in particular. The largest of them. The one with the sound maker dangling from its neck. It was hard to find that one, but he would keep going until he did.

               Finally, he found the one he was looking for. He started yelling at the fluffy one. He yelled and he ran. The fluffy one ran too, away from him. It was the fluffy one’s nature, and he knew that would happen. He yelled, and he chased. The other fluffy ones followed the one with the bell. It was their way. That was why he chased the bell bearing fluffy one. That one was the leader. The rest followed that one. Once he got that one where he wanted, the rest would follow.

               Sure they would need his guidance to follow properly, but that was what he was there for. He would run and yell, keeping all the fluffy ones in one big group. One group that would follow their leader. The leader who he was bringing home. Once all of them were home, his friend would bar the entry way. That would ensure the fluffy ones would stay home for the night.

               The belled fluffy one tried to get away. It ran and turned in ways that were supposed to be confusing. It was trying to escape, to get away and not go home.  If that happened, all the others would follow suit. And that would mean disaster. It would mean he had failed at his job. The one job he knew he could do better than anything else. And he would not let that happen.

               He ran harder, looping around and cutting off the lead fluffy one. He yelled and even got close enough to touch. He nipped at its side. Not hard enough to hurt, but just to tell it to turn away. And it did. He went right for the entry to home. It went through. The other fluffy ones started following. The entry was too small for all of them at once, so they filtered through only a few at a time.

               Some of them started to wander off, but he was there, yelling and running and guiding them home. He had done it. He had succeeded on his first try. All of the fluffy ones were home, and he ran and yelled and jumped to celebrate. He rushed through the closing entry and rushed to his friend. He jumped and his friend rubbed him and told him what a good job he had done. And he was happy. He had truly earned the title that his friend called him. Today he truly was the Good Boy.

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I'm looking after my cousin's dogs for the week, so I guess it's understandable that I have dogs on the brain. It's an interesting experience, for sure. Can't say I'm much of a dog person though. I've got nothing against everyone's favorite good boys and girls, but I'm more of a cat person. 

Thursday, February 22, 2024

Word: Sycophant

 

sycophant

[ sik-uh-fuhnt, -fant, sahy-kuh- ]
 
noun
  1. a self-seeking, servile flatterer; fawning parasite.

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               In her life, Iiana had seen a lot of nobles. She had seen a lot of royalty. Most of them had an air of arrogance around them. Even the nicest of them had it. Some quality that let her know they thought they were better than others. It was subtle in some, and obvious in others. She thought she had seen the worst of them. But now? Now there was no question she had. And his name was Prince Victor.

               The third prince had come up to her, surrounded by yes men and sycophants masquerading as friends. Iiana wanted nothing to do with the chubby royal, but he was still a royal. No matter how bad he was.

               “And then I drew my sword and told the vagabond to leave, lest his stench infect me. The fool saw my steel and ran. No doubt afraid to try anything against my superior skills.” The prince said proudly. His hangers on all told him how amazing he was for threatening a commoner just going about his day.

               “That’s…very interesting, my prince.” Iiana said through grit teeth. She cast her eyes around, hoping for a more tolerable person to converse with. The other party goer’s eyes seemed adamant on not meeting hers.

               “Yes, Of course. It was truly a fine act.” The prince said, oblivious to her tone. “No doubt comparable to some of yours.”

               Iiana had to fight to keep her tongue in check. The fool was comparing scaring off a starving person to her fighting actual monsters? She put her life on the line nearly every day so people like him could sit on their backsides and get fat. It was lucky for him that she was not allowed to bring her sword.

               The man’s sycophants had no trouble agreeing with Pince Victor. The worse part was that the man probably though they were sincere in their words.

               “Of…course, my prince.” Iiana said, putting on her largest, fakest smile.

               “You know, I’ve heard some tales about you, miss. They say you’re one of the greatest swordswomen in the world.”

               “I’ve heard that. I don’t believe it for a moment, of course.” That was a quick way to end up dead.

               “Of course you don’t. Because I bet you’ve heard word of my skills with the blade.” He said, patting the sword at his hip.

               She put her hand slightly behind her back, so that the man would not see her knuckles turning white. Of course as a royal he was allowed to carry a weapon when everyone else was deprived of theirs. That was just how the world was. But Victor was wearing the blade improperly. The scabbard would get tangled up in his legs within seconds, the belt was too loose to be useful, and the hole thing was hanging off him in a way that would throw off his balance. And that was not even considering the sword itself. The thing was practically ornamental. She very much doubted it was even sharp.

               “I’m sure your skills are a sight to behold.” She said.

               The prince’s entourage couldn’t speak his praises fast enough. Iiana barely even listened. It was clear none of them knew what they were talking about, and were simply repeating phrases related to swordsmanship without any real knowledge. Prince Victor lapped it all up like a thirsty dog.

               “Indeed, indeed.” He said. “In fact, I dare say if the two of us crossed blades, I would be the victor.”

               “Really now?” That caught her interest. With a few more words she might be able to get away with lowering his ego, if only slightly.

               “Oh yes, no doubt in my mind.”

               “My prince, it sounds to me like you’re challenging me to a duel.”

               “Am I?” He looked to his sycophants,  who went out of their way to tell him how easily she could beat her, without actually saying he should fight her. “I suppose I am.”

               “I see.” She had him now. “And what would be the stakes? Since this is not a duel of honor, there must be stakes.”

               “Ah, now that is simple. When I win, I shall be the one to court you. And, oh, on the off chance you should win, I shall give you use of my personal seal for one day.”

               Iiana schooled her expression. Access to a royal seal for a full day? She could do a lot with that. Quite a lot.

               “Very well, I accept.” She said with an exaggerated curtsey. “When shall we hold this duel? You don’t mean to hold it now, seeing as I am without my sword.”

               The prince clapped his hands loudly. The room quieted and Prince Victor made the announcement of the duel, as well as the terms. Nervous whispers filled the room. Iiana sighed inwardly. The really was the worst and most arrogant person she had met. A sword was quickly given to her. It was a decent blade, but it had obviously never seen real use. Plus, the balance was all wrong. But it would do.

               Victor drew his sword and stood in a ready stance that was so full of openings that she could riddle him with holes with her eyes closed. The call to start was given. Iiana planted her feet and held the borrowed weapon at her side.

               Prince Victor charged. He was slow, clumsy, and the tip of his sword was not even aimed at her. Even if she allowed the strike to finish, he would miss. But she was not going to do that. All it took was a flick of her wrist, and his sword clattered on the floor. She held the tip of the weapon in a vaguely threatening manner in the general direction of the prince’s neck.

               “So, I believe this makes me the victor, yes?” She asked.

               Victor stuttered and stammered. “I…no, not yet!” He grabbed his sword and swung.

               A moment later, his blade was again on the floor. This repeated several times. Iiana had not moved from her spot. The prince’s entourage kept up their act, insisting to the crowd that he was holding back, or implying that she was cheating. Anything but admit that the prince had lost.

               “I…I’m not feeling well.” The prince said after losing his sword for the sixth time. “I’m coming down with an illness. If I was at my peak, this would be an easy win for me.”

               “Very well then. We’ll continue this another day, when you are in the peak of health. We can even get the royal healer and physician to ensure that you’re healthy. Shall we use the same terms then as now?”

               Prince Victor looked around at all the eyes on him. Not all of them were trying to suck up to him. “Yes, fine. Whatever. Another day.”

               “Of course, my prince.” She curtsied again and handed the sword back to whoever it was that gave it to her. Another royal, she assumed.

               Prince Victor made a hasty retreat, followed closely by his false friends. She knew the duel would never happen, not really. But that did not matter much. While having a day with the royal seal would be wonderful, she was just happy to have humiliated a royal, even if only slightly. For her, that was worth more than all the gold in the royal treasury. 

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If only it was that easy to bring arrogant idiots down a peg or two.