the Commingling
800*600
the Commingling
This was originally written years ago and placed upon my page.
I have now decided to separate it from my own page and thus I have brought my original work to this page to display it.
A 24 gun barkentine is shipwrecked in a storm.
The survivors swim from the rocks along the shore having lost their ship,
their muskets, and their hand weapons. For many, they lost their
lives.
They don't know what land that they have shipwrecked upon.
They don't know where they are. After the flash of blinding light, the sky
looked wrong. That night, after the storm had cleared, there was a much
larger moon in the sky and the star patterns were all wrong. They don't
know where they are in the worst way.
They encounter locals of a
strange smooth headed race. These people wear dresses regardless of their
gender and their men fight valiantly before dying. The locals are
apparently an honorable race. The crew cuts their way inland tearing a
path with their daqtags and the occasional sword or musket that they
"acquired" from burning homesteads.
They are halted when they enter
the territories of Fearchear's clan. Being a small clan familiar with
being outnumbered, they have long learned to fight more viciously. The
clansmen fight the outsiders to a halt in a battle that costs both sides
half of their effectives.
Both sides eventually become very tired
and bloodied. They are also getting hungry. In spite of the language and
appearance differences, they manage to declare a truce to tend to the wounded
and the dead. As they Howl over their own dead, the Howls frighten the local
clansmen at first. But, the clansmen quickly become used to the ritual and
howl with the strangers. Since the clansman bury their dead in a ritual of
their own, the crew observed at first and then assisted with the digging.
Both sides Howled as each clansman was lowered into the ground.
At
this point, tired, bloody, and hungry, the crew accept the offer of food
and drink from the clansmen who Howled for their dead. Because of the
Honor given the dead of each side, this parley stretches through the night
as they try to communicate with drawings and objects. It becomes readily
apparent that the crew doesn't know the sky or land here. Nor have they
seen races with such smooth foreheads. Their leaders, while working very
patiently through the night, managed to get across the words and concepts
of "klingon" and "human".
Being a stranger in a strange land, the
klingon Captain decides to cease fighting in order to preserve the remains
of his command. As mead and wine are spread around, the two leaders
attempt to "discuss" a longer lasting peace. It eventually become apparent
that both sides are ready to cease fighting. The fighting had been fierce
and Honorable. Both sides had taken terrible casualties. Both sides knew
that they had been a small force to begin with and that they must mutually
and exclusively attempt to preserve what was left.
Upon the
morrow, as the clansmen pack up to return to their home lands, the klingon
Captain instructs his men to follow the humans. This at first is mistaken
for a preparation for another battle. The klingon Captain orders his men to put their weapons on the ground and to hold their hands out to their sides. After an unarmed standoff, he orders his men to kneel in total violation klingon custom. He motions to the alien leader until he manages to
get across to the clan leader that they only mean to follow
them.
They follow the clansmen through many fields and woods back
to the clan home territory. There, the clansmen tell of the terrible
battle and the crew attempts to show respect for the fallen and the living
Warriors of the Sons of Fearchear. The crew camps near the settlements of
Fearchear and hunts with Fearchear's son's men. They learn the terrain and
animals. They also learn an intense hatred for the common foe of the
sachsenach from the south.
Over time, the surviving crew acquit
themselves well in the service of the clan Farquharson fighting the
sachsenach and protecting the Farquharson villages from those southern
invaders.
As the clansmen lost many men over time, with the
discovery of the crew, and fighting the redcoats, there were too many widows without their man. There were many girls about to reach womanhood. The crew had arrived as a mixed group of men and
women. The womenfolk of the clan took the unattached crewmen as husbands
to replace those lost. Some of the stronger (though younger) clansmen even survived taking
a wife from the crew. The ties grew stronger over time as the children of
the clan and crew began to grow and marry. Ultimately, the strength of the
highland clan Farquharson was to be reinforced by the blood of the Son's
of Kahless.
It was the mere lack of size of the clan that cost
them 300 Warriors fighting the sachsenach at Colloden. When those three
thousand showed up to fight, they were certainly worth more than their
numbers and the battle showed them well.
I descended from them. I
descended from Finlay Fearchear who founded our clan in 1516. I also
descended from the Son's of Kahless who were shipwrecked upon a strange
planet. I proudly wear my klingon armor over my Farquharson tartan
kilt.
I also challenge any who would take with levity, my family
tartan, my kilt, or my klingon heritage. Jest if you dare, then die before
me in the Ring.
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