Chattel Hunt
"I woke to Ters massive frame holding up a silencing finger. The giant Mar shoved was less than gentle shoving me awake, and it took me a moment to collect my shaken thoughts. A torch from the back end lit the workers hovel illuminating the half dozen or so inhabitants dressing frantically, the soft clinks of chainmail meshed with the rythm of anxious breathing. I finally looked towards Ter and my skin turned white. The Mar warrior was black with fear, it was not a normal black either. Normally he would be mottled with black and red that represented a mix with fear and anger. It was entirely black this time a black so dark it represented terror incarnate. Ter was the bravest person i knew, and seeing him in such a state terrifed me. Only one thing could scare Ter so, A Chattle Hunt was neigh.
I grabbed my spear and armor, both rusted by age from my contraband hole and dressed quickly. The whole worker's hovel was in the streets in under ten minutes armed in the best equipment we could buy, steal or loot. One hundred and twenty men from six different races rushed into the streets, erecting barricades around the work quarters, while the women and children established a field hospital. We drilled for months in preparation for this day. By the true god i wished it never came, I would rather face the lash on a slave galley than stand against such a savage foe. I helped Ter roll a wagon into place our dichotomy of bone white and pitch black terror forming a strange sight in the night. The barricades were built in thirty minutes and we arrayed ourselves behind them just as Justine trained us to.
I was in the second rank of spearmen behind the barricade, behind the melee fighters in the first rank. Each work building housed a makeshift archer tower built from repurposed overseer platforms. Justine herself stood at the front of the formation before the barricade, she looked magnificent. She somehow acquired Turasen halfplate and an old Marren great blade. Our leader looked magnificent, immortal even. When I think back to that scene just before the battle, I almost believe that lie.
The Raptors were upon us shortly after. A mob of stabbing spears and leaping talons. We fought the first wave off with little trouble, they were not ready for an actual defense, and our warriors easily repelled their frontal assault. The second wave adjusted and attempted to take the roof tops, we fought them off too, but casualties were sustained. Four more times they tried our defense and four times we repelled them. Each victory cost more than the last, more and more of our warriors were dragged off into the night or slaughtered by thier warriors. The fifth and final assault was the worst. They broke through our line and swarmed the rooftops. Our ordered formation finally fell into chaos and the once organized battle into a brawl. I fought with everything I was worth to stay alive. Despite the chaos from the brawl I managed to stay next to Ter as he fought with all the savage brutality that Marren warrior's were famed for. Ter is the reason I am alive. Many of my fellows were not as lucky to be near such a force. They were torn apart in brutal melee combat by the Raptor young bloods. By the time the battle ended the workers quarters were coated in a diverse hue of bloods and decorated with hundreds of bodies. Fortuantly, they never made it to the children. Only the adults paid the bloody price of that horrid evening. Twenty of us survived. Twenty, and the Marren tribe that we escaped too treated us like conqurers." -"Memoirs of a Chattel slave by Cohen Marren"
I grabbed my spear and armor, both rusted by age from my contraband hole and dressed quickly. The whole worker's hovel was in the streets in under ten minutes armed in the best equipment we could buy, steal or loot. One hundred and twenty men from six different races rushed into the streets, erecting barricades around the work quarters, while the women and children established a field hospital. We drilled for months in preparation for this day. By the true god i wished it never came, I would rather face the lash on a slave galley than stand against such a savage foe. I helped Ter roll a wagon into place our dichotomy of bone white and pitch black terror forming a strange sight in the night. The barricades were built in thirty minutes and we arrayed ourselves behind them just as Justine trained us to.
I was in the second rank of spearmen behind the barricade, behind the melee fighters in the first rank. Each work building housed a makeshift archer tower built from repurposed overseer platforms. Justine herself stood at the front of the formation before the barricade, she looked magnificent. She somehow acquired Turasen halfplate and an old Marren great blade. Our leader looked magnificent, immortal even. When I think back to that scene just before the battle, I almost believe that lie.
The Raptors were upon us shortly after. A mob of stabbing spears and leaping talons. We fought the first wave off with little trouble, they were not ready for an actual defense, and our warriors easily repelled their frontal assault. The second wave adjusted and attempted to take the roof tops, we fought them off too, but casualties were sustained. Four more times they tried our defense and four times we repelled them. Each victory cost more than the last, more and more of our warriors were dragged off into the night or slaughtered by thier warriors. The fifth and final assault was the worst. They broke through our line and swarmed the rooftops. Our ordered formation finally fell into chaos and the once organized battle into a brawl. I fought with everything I was worth to stay alive. Despite the chaos from the brawl I managed to stay next to Ter as he fought with all the savage brutality that Marren warrior's were famed for. Ter is the reason I am alive. Many of my fellows were not as lucky to be near such a force. They were torn apart in brutal melee combat by the Raptor young bloods. By the time the battle ended the workers quarters were coated in a diverse hue of bloods and decorated with hundreds of bodies. Fortuantly, they never made it to the children. Only the adults paid the bloody price of that horrid evening. Twenty of us survived. Twenty, and the Marren tribe that we escaped too treated us like conqurers." -"Memoirs of a Chattel slave by Cohen Marren"
History
Chattle hunts are a raptor coming of age ceremony stemming from stone age rituals of a hunt that marks the shift into adulthood. However, the tradition changed as the Raptor's empire grew, encompassing multiple client states and various slave farms. To accommodate, there is a night once a generation (Thirteen Years) where the youngest warriors are relased upon the second class citizens of the empire as a cull.
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