Birds of a Different Feather [Luca/Duma C]

[Deleted]

Luca had offered his honest opinions and praises to the two swordsman he had just witnessed in action. Both of them were above average in many ways and could give most anyone a run for their money, even him he suspected. As a master of the lance, and previously dabbling into most other weapons he knew he could not win. Not until he knew this man better.

This Duma was surprisingly perceptive, while true he did not bear the accent or natural features of most Sacaeans he was well enough ingrained in the culture most people could not tell he was not native. "You have a good eye, a testament to your experience."

With his lance still in its wrapping he had it hoisted across his back, shoulder to shoulder with arms over it, simultaneously stretching and relaxing. "Maybe after this battle is given the proper attention it needs we could give it a go?" He was assuming the both of them would survive. But why would they not? He was going to skewer 1,000 of their enemies, that was likely to deal with a great deal of problems.

"Well, I am curious to know something. Of all the ways and places you could combat against Etruria and the Mad Prophet, why come here and side with us? Don't misunderstand my meaning, I am grateful and every other Sacaean should be too, but as a whole, given the circumstances I don't expect this unity will be the most welcoming to you."

[Duma]

Perhaps not a testament. More.. like a hunch. Duma thought to himself. He continued to eye the man a bit before turning his head away to look at his surroundings. People were moving, gathering, the swordsman suspected that he great meeting between the khans would be soon. He returned his attention back towards the man. The swordmaster recognized the doog’s teeth necklace and tribal markings that could be seen poking through the clothes of the Lancer. But he could not put a name as to what tribe he was from. But he knew he had seen this before.. somewhere out in the plains.

“I think I would enjoy that spar between us. I do not face lances often. It’s a bit of a disadvantage.” He motioned a bit to his sword.

“But if we are to survive this war against Eturia.. I need to be better at facing lances in general. Eturia has an army of knights and generals who would love nothing more than to poke us full of holes. Or set us on fire with their magic.”

He shifted his gaze slightly downwards towards the grass. Talking about Eturia left him feeling sour. He loved his adoptive Eturian family of misfits but hated what the country had devolved into. The prophet was good at sowing the seeds of madness among men.. growing up Duma had seen it with his own two eyes. But this other tribesman was curious to know why a fellow outsider.. who adopted the way of the plains would raise his sword against Eturia.

“I imagine my reasoning for wanting to strike down the prophet is similar to yours. To protect the people.He paused for a moment. Why? It took him some time but he managed to come up with an answer he found acceptable.

“You are right. This unity might be unfavorable to me. I was raised among Eturians. I watched as the country I was adopted into become what it is today. I saw many people.. good people.. die by the hands of the prophet’s followers. I’ve seen families forced to conform to the madness or be killed for heresy. And those who remember the faith of the supposed saint before her ‘communion’ with the prophet.. were also executed. I pray that this war does not force me to face what remains of my family... I understand that they might not have a choice..” He narrowed his eyes slightly. The image of a burning chapel and headless corpses in the streets flashed in his mind.

“The prophet and his followers corrupted the minds of people and turned them into something that they should not be. All in the name of Faith.. or rather what they perceive to be Faith. I.. think no god.. or gods.. real or imagined.. would want mass genocide tied to their name.” He could feel anger welling up inside of him. The swordsman took a deep breath, relaxed a moment, and exhaled.

“Sacae.. is my home now. The people of the plains do not deserve to die by the hands of those who have forgotten compassion. That is why I raise my sword against Eturia... I raise it against monsters..”

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"You raise your blade against monsters? ..." Luca closed his eyes and pondered these words. Monsters were they? The Etrurians were monsters for living with a misguided and volatile zeal for their belief? Just the same, were the Sacaeans all savages and whores living in the wilds like a plague of humanity? Luca could not make a determinate answer to either. The argument was far too ingrained in culture and endless stubbornness.

Luca finally opened his eyes and spoke, "I understand your anger and rage, brother. However I suggest you never think of them as monsters. It makes it easier to take their lives it is true, and many have taken to such heinous actions as to make Hargus shudder, but always remember that they are men and women the same as us. Remember so the weight of your conviction to your cause may never be forgotten every time you swing your blade."

Suddenly Luca began to laugh. "I am terribly sorry for getting so grim!" He shook his head and smiled. "Always remind yourself to smile and if needed force yourself to laugh, "HAH!" He nodded his head approvingly at his own advice. "As for their god, I know nothing of what a god would want. I am but a humble mortal. But think of this, just as a great general revels in a victory that leaves his enemy utterly destroyed and scattered why wouldn't a god rejoice in seeing those that shunned and disregarded their truth punished and removed to no longer spread their falsehoods?"

"These thoughts are something I have tried to express before but... understandably the Etrurians are so vilified and... monstrous none would bend their ear. And I know it is not as though I could convince the Etrurians to think differently of us here either. But, that is why I fight. Like a great fire out of the ashes of these battles I could have a chance to spread a message. Just maybe I can bring understanding and unity to more than just temporary alliances."

[Duma]

Duma shook his head. Luca seemed to have sentiments towards the people of Eturia. Sentiments that Duma had discarded long ago when he left the land of Eturia. But, now that he was here, talking to another who shared a similar tale, he could not help but think about his past. His childhood with the guild, his family, his sister, he could see it in his mind. He could see the property of the guild. He remembered the barn, the tavern, he remembered Mila firing balls of fire at him for training. He remembered the trips with his parents to the northern lands. He closed his eyes and tried his best to push out the memories. He needed to focus on the here and now. He was not here to rejoin his family. He was here to fight Eturia. He was here to prevent the holy army from killing other families. Focus on yourself. 

"I understand that they are human like the rest of us. But I have no other words to call them.. I cannot.. think of them as something else. I have to see them as monsters if I do not.. I might not be able to fight. I would be swept up with emotion and sentiments of my former home and that could spell my death on the battlefield." He glanced away breifly.

"I too.. don't know the thoughts and affairs of the gods. I just know people. I know of greed, pride, and desperation. Negativity that hinders thought and causes humans to do unspeakable things to one another." He sighed. Then rubbed the back of his head.

"You sort of sound like the priests of the southern tribe. They too have an ideology of trying to make peace with the world, and yet they too have sent riders, out to help us." He shrugged.

"But I digress.. would you mind telling me your story?"

[Deleted]

As Duma countered his every argument his every word Luca knew they would not see things the same. For this Luca gave him a sympathetic smile and a patted hand upon his shoulder. "You see them as monsters to ensure you keep your convictions and I see them as men to retain humanity. Make no mistake, I do not scorn nor belittle your ideals. I more fear the rage and destruction I would cause should I become little more than a blade."

He sounded like the southern priests? "Pfa ha ahahah! Sorry! Sorry I don't mean to laugh. But the priests? I may be from the south but the Solune do not agree with them in the slightest. Part of why the tribe is so small is their distaste of outsiders. If not for the war threatening them they would just as soon let Etruria ruin their rivals." He sighed. "Yet they took me in as one of their own." He mused.

"You wish to know my story, friend? It is a lengthy tale. I'm afraid I will have to tell it to you in parts should we survive that long." He grinned. "But I will do what I can to keep you entertained." He thought back to his childhood home. All of the comforts and eases of noble life, and of the training and stress he endured for his sister's sake. "You said you have a sister? So do I. We grew up in Etruria to a noble house. We were a small name but that did not stop us from seeking more from life. For this I trained from a young age to master every weapon, to master the arts and strategy. Of course ettiquite and dance were included. Surely I would we'd a fine noblewoman bringing us even more power in name." He shook his head, his multicolored hair swaying in his ponytail.

"Obviously things weren't so perfect."

[Duma]

"In certain times.. sometimes you must just be a blade. Otherwise you wouldn't get any work done." He responded. It seemed that Luca did not share the same ideology as the priests from the southern mountains. Duma didn't agree with some parts of their ideology either but at least they were trying to make an effort to be more progressive.

Duma stood and listened to the man talk about his life story. He found it oddly similar to his own. The green haired man was raised in Eturia. He didn't have the luxuries of a noble but he had a family who loved him. A sister who cared for him. And Saceans whom adoptied him, in what he assumed was going to be some traumatic part of his life. For Duma it was the loss of that sister and the cluster f*ck that Eturia had become. With no where to go he fled to the plains. He met the Qazvin and fell in love with their lifestyle. The Sacean life was different then the mercenary one. Jobs were completed out of necessity to live rather then coin. Hunting out in the plains every day gave him a new appreciation for nature. For life.

"Perfection is a myth." He spoke with a smirk and soft chuckle. It was a saying his "grandfather" was fond of. It's unobtainable! There is always something for humans to find flaws in! That's what makes things interesting.. and depressin.. The voice in his head continued the speech in the old man's voice.

"Sorry I didn't mean to interrupt please go on."

[Deleted]

"No no, I welcome the interruption. It ensures I know I have not bored you yet. " perfection was a myth is it? "Wish I understood that at a younger age." He sighed. "Well, I was sent to an officer's academy and quickly became top of my class. I graduated and was commissioned in both name and prowes but I blundered in doing so." He looked distant. "I let myself become a tool of higher command rather than do what I had believed to be the best course of action. I was... Respected by my officers, or used, I'm not sure as I would follow their law to the letter." He shook his head.

"I was blind to how my men felt towards my actions and the losses I allowed us to incur. When Ostia fell tensions hit their boiling point. Now they had a commander they did not trust, a war with Etruria, lost homes, and now monsters that needed to be suppressed. Dark times in all our lives to say the least." He recalled the pleadings of his men and how he so nonchalantly refused them. Everything from leave to alterations to the strategy.

"They mutinied against me then. I escaped by throwing myself into a river and being carried away. It was an eye opening experience and I am more than happy to serve as a simple lancer here rather than a commander. Upon escaping I fled to Sacae where I passed out in the fields and was found by the tribe." More cheerfully he added. "I'll tell you all about that part when we return from our first battle. It is where things get good."

[Duma]

"You shared a bit of your story with me.. and so I shall share some of mine with you. I was born a twin and adopted into a mercenary guild. We weren't a family of luxuries or class like yours. But, we had everything we needed. A warm house, food in our belly, and a large family who loved us. For as long as I could remember my sister and I were always moving from job to job. When we couldn't find outside contracts to work on we worked from home. The guild did all sorts of jobs to better the little community we had. Sis had a knack for magic, I had a knack for swords." He smiled softly as he recalled the memories of his child hood. He remembered helping Uncle Louie with hunting. He remembered farm work with his mother and reading books with his dad.

"Mom was a woman of swords. She knew her craft well and taught me how to wield a blade. Sis got magic lessons from Dad and Uncle. Before she got shipped off to the Academy. Anyway.. the Kraft.. uprising happened and things got much more complicated. Neighbors we knew since childhood were gone. People we used to work with were branded traitors and killed. Our outside contracts dwindled. In order to survive the guild took more and more jobs from the military. We played nice with Kraft and his holy army because we didn't want to die." He shook his head.

"My sister and I had enough of the sorry state of our homeland and we left." He glanced at Luca.

"This was about six years ago. And a lot of stuff happened since then. But, like you, I will tell you the rest once we return from our first fight. I look forward to hearing the rest of your story."

[Deleted]

"Hahah," it was a soft laugh as Duma remained just as reserved with the details as he. "Well then, I do believe we have ourselves a gentleman's agreement? When the battle ends we shall meet to feast and enjoy tales of our good fortunes upon the bloody fields of battle. Then we can turn to the stories of our histories and pasts." He offered the swordsman a hand to shake and seal the agreement between the two.

Now feeling the discussion, no matter how brief, had reached its natural conclusion he dismissed himself from his present company. He was not the sort to brood but Duma had awoken some long suppressed thoughts about his own sister, Lydia. He wondered for her safety, how had the family treated her since his apparent death and where she was now? He felt a twinge of guilt, as though she of all people should know the truth if nothing else. He sighed and looked at the sky. It was a nice day and there was still some time left after all, he might as well get some training in and clear his head from the more negative thoughts.

Unwrapping his spear in one swift motion he twirled it into a combative stance. He closed his eyes and imagined opponents all around him. He moved wit a swiftness and limberness that betrayed the mass of his weapon. He had years of training with it after all and he was determined to one day master the secrets of his adoptive tribe. It was not long before he was lost in his practice and ready to continue the important business ahead.

[Exit Thread]