The Old Blood Calls

... great tales of bravery, treaty announcements, marriages, events, statements of intent, stories, poems, song, rhyme, essays.... and any other announcements.
Lea
Posts: 124
Joined: Fri May 04, 2018 6:46 pm

The Old Blood Calls

Postby Lea » Sun Sep 23, 2018 11:02 pm

It started with the dreams. Grizzled, top-knotted Shienaran soldiers sleeping rough in the Blight, delicate Tairen lords in ornate four-post beds, merchants, farmers, nobles, and servants, the high and the low, from the loneliest shack on the Sea of Storms to the topless towers of Cairhien, they all dreamed. They were soldiers, holding steadfast against hordes of Trollocs. The dreamers were archers, raining arrows on Fades who refused to die. Some were women and men, surrounding a king and queen, fighting an overwhelming force of Trollocs, knowing they would die without help and knowing no help would come, but fighting no less fierce. Whatever the dream, whoever the person, one thing stood out. The Red Eagle of Manetheren, crimson on a white field, waving over the battlefield.

The Old Blood called. It sang. One by one, those who dreamed cast aside their old lives. Chores left undone, estates left abandoned, they traveled by carriage, horse, foot, by any means available to them. They traveled to Manetheren, the Mountain Home, reborn. They were warriors respun, their threads rewoven by the Wheel to rejoin the Sword that Cannot be Broken, to fight the Dark One, to be a thorn to his foot and a bramble to his hand. On their lips, one and all, the old battle cry rang out again.

"Carai an Caldazar! Carai an Ellisande! Al Ellisande!"

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The Red Eagles of Manetheren are once again welcoming all who believe that they have the Old Blood coursing through them to return home. If you believe you are a warrior of Manetheren respun by the Wheel, please send us a letter introducing yourself and how you came to realize who you were.

None who wield the One Power are welcome.

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