Kalugog is restless in her new bed, thinking about her past, present and future.
Unfit for service for reasons of lackluster physical capabilities.
Twenty-six years ago, that was what they told her in Hammerkills, the principal military outpost of Profanemachines. The reply was the same three years later, despite the goblins recent vicious attacks towards most of Profanemachines' fortresses. During the fifteen following years, the same result came to be in several other fortresses. She was kept from her dreams of glory. Her studies on lore regarding tactics was useless. She turned to several fortresses, but was always sent to mere cooking duties, something she never really had talent for or interest in. It was the temple to Asёn Gemmined in Ironchills which proved to be the answer. The temple guard could do with some soldiers and they were less demanding than most. Yet just when she felt she was making progress in her training, her squad was called to the capitol. Ironchills is far from goblin lands and safe. Other outposts were not and they needed fanantical troops there. Again, she was held back, not sent to the front from the mountainhomes, for reasons of being hardly more skilled than the average peasant.
When the mountainhome's food supplies were destroyed, they nearly recalled her from the force. She had to leave to pursue her calling, or so Kalugog told herself. When there was talk that they were sending more peasants to that fortress designed to act as Profanemachines' future breadbasket, she was among the first to volunteer to act as a guard to these migrants.
The overseer of this village was said to be an insolent prat, so she steeled herself for the worst, but she did not find him all that unpleasant. Seeing as they did not have a proper military beyond a lumberjack doing double duty as an axedwarf and a miner or two, she eagerly talked about her ideas regarding a military where the strength of the individual is insignificant compared to the strength of the whole, a military which fights as one body instead of a rabble. The other warrior she had travelled with, Hatebeard Mörultenshed, is very open about being a berserker at heart, so Kalugog knew she had to win this overseer's favour to get her way.
She did not really expect to succeed. Dwarves, even those who are interested in new ideas as she is, are still a mostly traditionalist bunch. That the temple guard of Asёn Gemmined shave their heads was seen as blasphemous by most of Profanemachines' population. Her ideas regarding formation warfare would surely be likewise discarded; she should be happy just to be part of an army and overjoyed when she gets to train and lead a squad, but she had to try to get her way after these years.
Now suddenly leader of a military, even if it is just two real warriors, a hunter who could easily be a fine marksdwarf and a couple of recruits, she is almost at a loss. She needs to learn how to actually use those military tactics she had read about so often. She needs to learn to lead, both verbally and by example. And, of course, she needs to make sure she can hold her own against goblins, trolls and worse foes. She also knows that Hatebeard is the better fighter of the two and might yet contest Kalugog's position. She needs to make sure her sister in arms becomes more of a comrade than a rival. Throughout history, the famous heroes of the dwarven civilization have been those few who score killing blows on titans and hold back demons. She finds herself wondering if, even if she manages to reach her goals, she will fade into obscurity within the generation. She considers if she even cares, as long as she herself and her deity are pleased with her acts and skills.
OOC:
Thank you.
Might I get information about Asёn Gemmined? If Kalugog is this fervent a worshiper, I should probably know who and what she worships.
Author
Topic: Icemachines, saving the world from starvation [SUCCESSION_FORT][NEED_OVERSEERS] (Read 32282 times)