I am the War Machine. I am Umasza, Captain of the Iron Cuirass Squadron, chosen to lead because of the skill and valor I have displayed upon the field. I bear the ears of those I have slain in conflict about my neck, and the jewels and symbols on my body, armor, weapons, and horse's bridle are the testament of my worth to the War Machine.
Who Are We?
We are the War Machine; we are many, we are multiple, we are legion. Your Pack is of the Iron Cuirass Squadron of the Fanged Vise Sect, a hammer of the horsed lance which crushes our foes against the anvil of the pike. Your Pack are your brothers and you sisters and your lovers; they have adopted you and you have adopted them, having completed the Pact of the Pack over your campfire when you were still young, but nonetheless ready.
What Makes Us Great?
We are born warriors, trained in the arts of war from the moment of our separation. No one can stand before us, though they may try and even think they have succeeded, but we know that defeat is always also a victory. We are born to the way of bloody conflict and dark clash; we are guided by the gods of the War Machine, who strengthen our arms and fill our hearts with bitter song and laughing sadness, who reveal to us the truth of the World.
We know the ways of war, and revel in its pleasures and degradations. We know the ways of speed and secrecy, the watchwords of the War Machine: when to be still and quiet, when to have patience, when to move and strike with rapidness, the rhythms of war which fill the heart with suspense and elation; the plottings of strategy, the worth of the spy, the use of ruse and ambush and kind word to surprise and confound our foes. Unlike our foes, we have thrown off the ties that bind us, and so are free and unfettered, and therein lies our greatness. We are the incarnation of the War Machine in its totality, the Mask, the Body, and the Spirit of War, the meaning and purpose of the World.
Where Do We Live?
Wherever we are, we live; we are not tied to place or land, for those are binding ties which rob of us of our freedom, and so befit our servants rather than ourselves. Right now, you are in the fortress of our Sect, preparing with your Pact for the time when you will join our company in the field, but already you know the way of the camp and the march. We live in the path of war, ever moving, ever marching; even this fortress, to which we return to rest and refit, shall be moved in the way of the War Machine, so that it too is untied from the land.
How Do We Live?
Ours is the way of war, and so we live on the march and in the camp. When we march, we send out our scouts and raiders, our pioneers clear our way, we form the vanguard, the body, and the rearguard. When we make camp, we set the standards of squadron and company and Sect, and about them kindle the campfires of the Packs; we set the picket lines, and set our wards, and whisper the watch- and passwords.
In battle, our Sect uses the way of the hammer and anvil. The companies of the anvil array themselves on the line, and those of us who follow the hammer array ourselves on one side or the other, or both if we choose. Sometimes the hammer swings first, and we thunder upon the flanks of our foes, and drive them toward the middle, to await the long fangs of the anvil. Sometimes, the anvil moves first, and engages the foe while we wait immobile with quiet patience; once the foe is engaged, then we strike upon the flank, and drive them inwards, and pack them in for the slaughter upon dripping pike point. During the Wars of the Ban, we had trouble with the ways of the Rain Horse Sect, and so we are careful when we encounter foes who fight in their manner.
We live on the spoils of war, as is the right of the victor. The spoils include the fruits of the labor of our servants, and so our serfs work their land and satisfy our appetites. Our quartermasters bring us baked bread and pressed oil, wine and beer, hemp and hazzia, fruits and berries, and animals for our spits.
Our smiths work their fires, and create the weapons of war which befit the manner of the Fanged Vise. We are of the hammer of the vise, the swinging jaw, and so we bear heavy lance and sword and dagger, warmask and fanged helmet, full bronze harness but with a cuirass of iron as is the right of our squadron, and spurred warboot. We are marked with the tattoos of our Pack, and our bodies and weapons and armor bear enchantments and secret marks to aid our magic and make us stronger in war. Our horses are hand-picked by the masters of the horse for their strength and size, and trained from the start in the manner of our squadron so as to be sure and swift beneath us in the thick of battle; they are armored in ringed mail, and we ride them with black bridle and saddle. Jewels adorn the accouterments of those amongst us who have proved their worth in battle before the eyes of their Pack and Sect.
What Is Important In My Life?
War. Conflict, blood, death, victory, freedom; all that war gives and takes, in its myriad forms and faces.
You are the War Machine, so you must support it. You must support your Pack in battle and on the march, as they support you; if you do not, then you and they will be lost, and your time here will be too short and unfulfilled. Watch your brothers and sisters in the Pack, to be certain that they do not stray from our path, just as you will watch me, to make sure my decisions are just and righteous in the way of the War Machine, and as I and the other captains of our Sect watch our War Lord, One-eyed Dragomir. If you acquit yourself well and set an example for your fellows, and gain glory and some prestige, part of the spoils of war, then perhaps they will choose you for their leader. In time, you may be chosen as I was, to lead the Iron Cuirass Squadron, and if after long campaigning you have demonstrated your valor and skill then perhaps you may become the War Lord of our Sect.
Who Rules Us?
We are the War Machine. We are ruled by no one, not even ourselves. We have thrown off the ties that bind, and so are free and unfettered. Others call us the Kingdom of War, and so confuse themselves, revealing nothing but their dependance on the binds of sovereignty which we have renounced, and so show themselves to be chained.
We are led by Lord Death on a Horse, who has shown himself full of valor and cruelty, who accumulated great glory and prestige during the Wars of the Ban and so was chosen in his time. He was once of the Headhunter Sect, but is now accompanied by his Companions, chosen from every Sect in the War Machine to be his aides and adjutants, as is proper for the leader of the War Machine, just as the War Lord of our Sect, once of the Drunken Company, now chooses his aides from each company and squadron in turn, and I choose mine from the Packs of the Iron Cuirass. If you show yourself to be skillful and wise, perhaps you will catch the eye of our War Lord and be chosen to aid him; this is a great honor. Perhaps you will even one day be choosen by Lord Death on a Horse for his Companions.
What Makes A Warrior Great?
Following the path of war makes a warrior great. You will be judged by your brothers and sisters by the strength of your arm in battle, your courage, and your skill, the support and encouragement you give them, the sharpness of your mind and eye. Seek success on the field, victory in combat with our foes, to demonstrate your worthiness as a warrior; take the ears of those you have slain to wear about your neck as proof of your martial skill, and after the battle aid the Carrion Eaters in collecting the loot of our dead foes and the honored accouterments of our fallen brethren. But fear not defeat on the field, as long as you have followed the path of war and held true to your Pack and Sect, for as long as you have acquited yourself as a warrior in the War Machine, defeat is not a failure and means nothing. Failure only comes when you abandon the path of the warrior, abandon your Pack and your Sect, and accept ties which bind and trap you. Then you will have betrayed the War Machine, and betrayed yourself, and will know nothing but misery.
What Is the Difference Between Men and Women?
Both men and women may become War Machines, and so they are not all that different. Men and women were once the same, but are now separate, as is the way of the World, and sometimes in conflict. They are mainly different in that women, like Mother Earth, may bear children as the result of a union with their complement. Women who are warriors must be careful not to become pregnant with child, and so risk a tie that binds us and makes us useless to the War Machine, and so we use pennyroyal and other potions, or accept magics that ward off pregnancies and make us happily barren, so as to better our enjoyment of the pleasures of war and victory. But this is not really your problem.
What Is Evil?
There are many evils in the World, but foremost amongst them are Chaos and Peace. Chaos seeks to consume the World, and make it One again, to return it to the moment before the first Separation and make the War Machine disappear; this kind of Chaos is hard to find, and if you meet Chaos, it will likely have already been separated into many, and so to some extent its threat is weaker than it could be. Peace is also evil, because it seeks to bind and chain the War Machine, to so enslave the World that the joy goes out of it. The ties that bind us, the rule of laws and kings and the working of the land, are also evil, but we have thrown them off and they shall not impede us again. You must be careful not to chain yourself and betray the War Machine, but instead insure your freedom of action.
What Is My Lot In Life?
Yours is the life of extremes, unbound by the ties which blind and yoke your lessers, to know in every detail the pain and pleasure of the path of war. Yours is the life of the senses, awakened to their fullest at death's doorstep, awakened to the ecstasies of war and the glorious sights and sounds of battle. Yours is the pursuit of glory and the spoils of victory, the love of your brothers and sisters and the triumph of the final, painful looked-for wound. If the wound never comes, but instead you grow old or are broken, fear not, for you will serve the War Machine still, by imparting your knowledge and skills to the new Packs of our Sect, and enjoying the spoils which are rightfully yours as one who followed the right way.
How Do We Deal With Others?
You must love and support your brothers and sisters in your Pack and company and Sect, and follow the directions of your captains and War Lords if they are in keeping with the path of war. You should share everything with your Pack, and even with other Packs when possible: your bed and body, your glories and defeats, your pains and hardships, and the spoils of your victories: the bread of your plate and wine of your cup, the concubines and studs of our Sect. Thus are we one in the War Machine, and so you should be careful not to form a binding tie with one other, and single them out for your affection and attention. This is discouraged, and thus we sleep in threes or more, and share our concubines and studs with our brothers and sisters always.
Outside of the War Machine there are many others, and to them we apply the rights of the victor, as is proper in war. Most of them become our servants, our serfs, and work the land and provide us with the freedom that we need and desire. They are dead to the world, passionless and empty, but do not pity them, for they would not understand you. Bound as they are in ties that bind, incapable of freeing themselves, they have no use for their full selves, and so we Tap them, and thus make them more useful to the War Machine; what they choose not to use, we take.
Our foes are the Lesser War Machines, and against them we unfurl our standards and launch our wars. When we have defeated them, we take them and their dependents, and make their dependents our servants, as befits the victor. Those that fought against us we make prisoners, and we test them; many reveal themselves as too obviously bound by the ties of sovereignty and the land, and so we execute them immediately with delicious cruelty, but sometimes there are those who perhaps may break free of their chains. So we enter their names upon the Prisoner Rolls, and we test them for a year and a day to see if they may serve the War Machine as Auxiliaries. If they free themselves, then they are entered onto the Auxiliary Rolls and join a unit as befits their skills; if they are still bound, then we execute them. If a foe is taken, and his or her name is revealed upon the Prisoner Rolls or the Auxiliary Rolls, then that means that either they were a prisoner and escaped, or an auxiliary and deserted, and so they are executed at once.
The Auxiliaries are not really part of the War Machine, though they are useful to us. The auxiliaries are warriors from Lesser War Machines who have come to us to aid us, and though they often wish to follow the path of war, they have not been born and bred for it as we are. Thus they are often still bound, sometimes by sovereignty, and wish to make us their kings, or or by the land in the form of money, and so serve in exchange for some of our spoils. They can be useful, but are dangerous and best kept at arm's length; I do not trust them, and neither should you. Let the Mouths deal with them, and give them their directions. There have been but a few who have found the strength to throw off their chains, and these have been accepted into Packs.
Who Are Our Enemies?
We have foes, and we have enemies. Our foes are the Lesser War Machines which others keep in chains; they are good to fight, and provide us with our path to victory. Our true enemies are lurking, mindless Chaos, which would rob us of our identity, and the Kingdom of Peace in which others seek to bind us. For them we have only one answer: slaughter and destruction, the death which separates them from this World and feeds them to the Spirit War Machine forever.
Who Are Our Gods?
Our gods are many; they are the gods of the War Machine, who incarnate war in all its glorious aspects and teach us it secrets, and you may make sacrifices to many of them. In the Iron Cuirass Squadron we hold Horsebreaker the Lancer as our patron, who teaches us the secrets of our mounts and gives us magic for our lances. Some in our squadron sacrifice to Death-wielder to learn the secrets of sword magic. Some sacrifice to Pathfinder or to the Eyes and Ears of the War Machine to help them see the way on our marches to the field of battle, or to Din and Discord to help confuse our enemies when we are upon it. We all hold Campfire dear, as the symbol of our adopted Packs, the unbinding tie which unites us as brother, sister, and lover. In our Sect can be found those who worship all the different gods of the War Machine, for it is us and we are it.
What Is There To Do Around Here?
Here in the fortress of our sect, you train and prepare, steeping yourself in the lore of war. You practice riding with your Pack, the use of the sword and the lance from the saddle and on foot, the putting on and taking off of your armor, the proper care of your weapons and your armor and your horse. You go on the march, and prepare camps, though not too far until you are ready. You play Chess, to learn the strategies and thinking of our foes, and you play Go, to understand space and territory. You study the War Scrolls, and study the deeds recorded on the bones in the Sacred Urns of our Sect, and listen to the stories and tales of your instructors, to learn the lessons of history which reveal the path of war. You fight the Packs-in-training of other Sects, to give you the feel of battle and prepare you for your baptism. You learn the calls and cries of voice and horn and drum and the movements of standard and signal which show you the path in the heat of battle, and you learn the songs of war and victory and celebration to fill your heart with gladness in the fray.
End of Glorantha Digest V2 #227
WWW material at http://hops.wharton.upenn.edu/~loren/rolegame.html
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