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« on: September 12, 2012, 11:59:18 am »
<<Pub at the Top of the Universe>>
The formal eulogy had been hours ago. Zen's comrades-in-arms were blowing off some steam at the Sky-Pub, at first, with angry or melancholy remembrances, but now the time had come for the Warriors' Triumphant Lament. A call and response pub song, a tradition as old as the first warriors who put themselves on the line separating the dark night from their clan's comfortable hole in the dirt, but perhaps somewhat inappropriate seeming to modern folks and various civilians.
(Chorus)
Brace up your shield and let hammers ring!
Oh, hey, oh, yo
Here's three cheers for Zen and two for the King!
T'fall bravely in battle is t'only way to go!
The next part seemed to require some synchronized series of cheers that were far beyond the current musical coordination level of those assembled, but they seemed determined to make up for it with loudness. Presently a few of the soldiers brought forth some instruments and sheparded the song back into something coarsely resembling a musical form. By this time a single grunt had stood at the front of the room lofting his tankard a bit higher than anyone elses, and he led a verse:
"He was quick with a blade and not bad with a spear!"
Oh, hey, oh, yo
"Always late for the battle but he'd always bring beer!...
Oh, drunken master style.." IS T'ONLY WAY TO GO
The chorus came thundering back in for the last bit, of course; and the singer gave a slight tip of the cap to Dr. Domas, who was lurking otherwise inconspicuously in the back of the room with Smak. Both were respected for their professional interest in keeping soldiers alive, and although still outsiders were tolerated well enough here. At this point Dr. Domas would probably be treated as any other veteran if not for the fact that he was nursing a half glass of grog with quite a bit less booze than was really proper, not to mention the lime and quinine. In any case they both felt less out of place here at the Pub, than at today's fire-and-brimstone War Council meeting.
"In ermines and silks he always is kittin'!"
Oh, hey, oh, yo
"Y'always look dapper with six pairs o' mittins!...
Oh, fightin' dandy.." IS T'ONLY WAY TO GO
A bit of a murmur ran around the room as noone seemed exactly sure whether that had rhymed properly or what precise kind of backhanded compliment "fightin' dandy" was, but the singer got extra points for being on the table with a Large Pot on his head. "Smak, look at this order sheet I got, to expand the hospital by a factor of two. Not signed off by the manager. And the odd part is, it calls for Corpses to be stockpiled for a while before burial in something called a 'spiritual recovery complex'."
"You're right, that is kind of disturbing. I also have an unsigned order for a bulk pallet of militia grade weapons and 40 sarcoph..." But the rest of their conversation was drowned out and lost in the crowd as the soldiers' Lament picked up momentum.
"He built us this bar way up in t' sky!"
Oh, hey, oh, yo
"Ain't no way down so good thing we can fly!...
Oh, fallin' home from t' pub.." IS T'ONLY WAY TO GO
