My time in Command
Lord Morgan Fletcher
I may have been the Warlord for one of the (second?) St Floz vs Bach Wars (the first at a Scout camp, I recall), but that is about it. And that story (and my Strategy) are quickly told.
Having been forcibly enlisted into the role of Warlord, from deep meditation in a peaceful monastery and informed by the troops, of their basic desire of an Untamed, Ravening Horde, sweeping all before it's Incredible might, I retired to formulate my cunning Strategy.
It came the time for the ceremonial tossing of the Two-Handed Sword, between the two armies. Oh how it spun, oh how it shone, glittering with pure light from the sun, (partially cloudy that day, if I recollect properly, but a ray burst forth, as if from heaven, to shine upon this moment. "Blade!" I cried out at the apogee of it's climb. (This particular weapon only having one edge, the other obliterated from the force of it's wielder's blows) Time seemed to slow as the weapon returned to Mother Earth. An Eternity!
Blade indeed it was! The forces of St. Florian cried "HUZZAH!" as it was sure to be the first of many victories for the day.
The Warriors of St Florian turned to their Warlord, faces rapturous with desire, to absorb, to devour, the secret plans forged by the devious mind of their commander.
Silence. To be broken by the incredible wisdom and tactical mastery bestowed on one in a generation of Tacticians. Amongst Warriors, there are Princes. Amongst Princes there are Kings. Amongst the Kings, an Emperor. Above them all - a Planner, such as their Warlord. Yet, a good Warlord must believe in his troops, understand their hearts and upon occasion, grant the wishes of those who would serve him.
My words softly spoken, yet carrying to all present, burnt into the history books forevermore, :
"Start At The Top Of The Hill. And Go Down. Kill Anything That Gets In Your Way."
A pause, a heart beat in time, then:
"HUZZAH!!" rang out for a second time!
With such guidance, there could be no doubt as to the outcome of the following battle.
His back turned to the melee, the outcome already known in his mind and heart, unnoticed a tear trickled down his cheek.
The Warlord retired after this battle, knowing to the depth of his soul, he could never approach the skill that had been granted to him on this day.