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From the Logs Records of Enoch Talmai, Madai Imperial scribe, Student of Apostle Stephenus.
Excerpt:  Knight of Trope Assault upon the Floating Garden.
Entry 10 of 10.

The return to the Phoenix was a sobering afair.  We landed aboard the ship to find wounded being rushed to med bay while squads reform their units.   Several craft coming in were battered, chunks torn out of their hulls.  Pilots struggled from their craft while engineers shouted at them for the damage to their precious machines.  Prisoners we lead to the brig, to be handed over to the UEF later.

For the next week it was like this, a dismal, sobering victory.  A week later the funeral service was prepared for the slain Knights to be sent off to their homes for proper burial.  

I stood amongst a sea of gray uniforms at the funeral with dozens of caskets before us covered in the flags of their native lands.  Slain pilots or those who's bodies had not been recovered were represented by spare helmets.  Everyone was ram rod straight, ready to send off their slain brothers and sisters.

Commander Ranger walked among the rows of flag draped caskets.  He was dressed in his typical cloak but wore a proper uniform and his blades were at his sides.   He placed a folded banner of the Knights of Trope upon each and everyone of the caskets, a slow process but a sacred one.  No priest or holy men walked about him, but it did not matter.

When he was finished he joined the mass of gray uniforms.  Silence fell lingering over the hanger deck like deaths own shroud.

Then the strings came, drums.   A small band was marching out of the  mass of gray uniforms to stand before all of us.  Then the pipes played up.  And the voices began to rise.

Axes flash, broadsword swing,
Shining armour's piercing ring
Horses run with polished shield,
Fight Those Bastards till They Yield
Midnight mare and blood red roan,
Fight to Keep this Land Your Own
Sound the horn and call the cry,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!


I found my own voice raised among the mass as all of us sang out, not in grief but in victory.

Follow orders as you're told,
Make Their Yellow Blood Run Cold
Fight until you die or drop,
A Force Like Ours is Hard to Stop
Close your mind to stress and pain,
Fight till You're No Longer Sane
Let not one damn cur pass by,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!


Victory that belonged not to ourselves but to the slain before us, the warriors who had fought and died so we could stand.

<1>Guard your women and children well,
Send These Bastards Back to Hell
We'll teach them the ways of war,
They Won't Come Here Any More
Use your shield and use your head,
Fight till Every One is Dead
Raise the flag up to the sky,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!</i>

The song slowed down now but a fire was now burning in our chests.

Dawn has broke, the time has come,
Move Your Feet to a Marching Drum
We'll win the war and pay the toll,
We'll Fight as One in Heart and Soul
Midnight mare and blood red roan,
Fight to Keep this Land Your Own
Sound the horn and call the cry,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!

How Many of Them Can We Make Die!

How Many of Them Can We Make Die!

How Many of Them Can We Make Die!


As the song came to its end everyone snapped into a salute as the caskets were moved to the loading ramp to be taken aboard the Hercules-class transports that would take the slain home.

"Funeral detail dismissed!"  Commander Ranger proclaimed.

As the Knights filed away I went to the chapel.  I prayed there for the souls of the fallen, that they find their way to their rest with ease.   My opinion of the Knights of Trope had changed so dramatically in the passing of an few weeks.  I thought of them now not as crude fools but as brothers in arms.  My friends from my previous experiences in the chapel joined me for a round of prayer, as did many others.   It was comforting.

Then we headed to the same bar as before and celebrated the heroism of our slain comrades.   I went there not with fools, but with brothers.

The next day I woke up in a bathroom, my mouth tasting of bile.

End of Log.
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:iconbladelordqwest:
BladeLordQwest Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2013
Ah, you think this is a good story?

Wait until you hear about this story about a group I heard about called the Coyote Brigade and this whole brony insurrection stuff they had to deal with. I tell ya, this is gonna be some new level stuff you'll be hearing about fer sure!
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:iconkohsayo:
kohsayo Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2012
Masked King: At first those "Knights of Troupe" were just a minor nuisance, but while their General has not yet graduated from college, his organization has without a doubt graduated into becoming a FULL FLEDGED PAIN IN MY ASS!
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:iconranger24:
Ranger24 Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2012
Message to Masked King:
From the Knights of Trope,
Kiss our collective 70,000+ Asses!
Reply
:iconkohsayo:
kohsayo Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2012
Gairen Yuki: My lord, Gyokuro was killed in battle.

Masked King: Who was that again?

Gairen: Hated humans

Masked King: Your gonna have to be more specific

Gairen: she was a vampire, you used her as a figurehead for our organization

Masked King: Was she the one hated fighting?

Gairen: No sir, that's her daughter, who fortunately is still alive

Masked King: Oh, now I remember. I was going to do something along the lines of what I did to Xia-Long's father had she failed. Well, guess that's one thing to take off my "to do list". I should probably send her family something, perhaps some wine? A muffin basket? Or maybe a muffin basket with wine.
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