Snippet #1476785

"I am Kisikoni Ayalen, Deep Human from Chochmingwu. I have only been with this legion for about a decade. I welcome you to our division." Alistair tried to place Chochmingwu on the mental map he had of Norr, but was only partially successful. He resolved to check for it next time he saw one. To the welcome, he merely inclined his head in gratitude, sensing that perhaps Kisikoni had more to say yet. As it turned out, he was correct.

"All of this is so much to take in. From being the fortieth legion to the Black Guard of the army." That drew a smile from the harpy, for indeed he imagined it must be so. Sudden change was never easy and rarely welcomed, but Alistair had fought in enough battles masterminded by General Darenthi to know that the man was cunning in his savvy, and quite the strategist. A tad too ruthless, perhaps, but war was war, and it rarely made kind men of its leaders.

"I imagine that it is," he mused thoughtfully. "I think, though, that in the end, much of the work will be the same. The Legion of Ashes faces battles that many would think unwinnable daily. At least, when one marches to the enemy, one knows to expect this." He was under the impression that the last battle had caught them all quite off-guard, and he could certainly understand that. The Children of Flame were not enemies easily-bested, no matter one's level of skill or experience, and to face so many more than anticipated would be rather unsettling, even to himself.

Alistair waved off all compliments to his tea, though he did rather get the impression that Lily was less a connoisseur than she would perhaps have them believe. This, he accepted as rather harmless, and did not comment upon it. Her words regarding her clan were tinged with sadness, though, and he quite truthfully thought he must be a much older man than he had anticipated, if he were being met with the urge to offer sage advice so often in the course of a single conversation. He was scarcely out of the youth of his species, at least in terms of relative lifespans, but it had been an eventful sixty-some years, all things considered. He'd had a spear in his hand from the time he was six months old, using it in clan squabbles before the war then in service of the Murder and then for the Legion.

So he supposed it was advice that was his to give, and there was little purpose in keeping it to himself. But perhaps offering it in a more diluted fashion would be appropriate. "I myself lived with a clan for quite some time," he replied conversationally. "I have found that, somehow, it makes it an easier matter to come to think of new groups of people in similar ways." The past is hardly a fit place for the young to dwell, child.