The Wedding of the Age

The Battle of Sajag

The Red Rover met the shore of Sajag with a thunderous clap. Slavers poured from the ship to storm the small island. Today was to be a glorious day for the Liberators.
Chief Cobb stood atop the now grounded ship, standing between men and their plunder. They rushed the cook, who rose to greet them. Flashes of steel reflected the Sun’s rays about as his knives ripped through the group as though they were nothing more than perfectly cooked steak. Where men once stood, bodies now laid.
Cormorant leaped from the bulwarks in chase of any squad that dared exit onto shore. Spear met with sword and shield. His feet danced on the beach as the tides ebbed and flowed around his boots. Liberator blood mixed into the waters before the first waves crashed.
On shore, a battalion thanked whichever gods were watching over them today, for they had made it onto land avoiding those they now knew were no mortal men. The only person in sight was an old man. He may not fetch much on the market, but it was only their first catch. But they had no time to retract their gratitude before fists, as strong as they were old, flurried about, knocking into each man.
The Liberators stood little chance this day. Those slavers that were not felled by the Chosen of the Sun were quickly routed by the villagers, men who were ready to defend their homes.
Things moved quickly after the battle. The fallen were ignited in flame one after the other, leaving nothing behind. Any survivors were taken back to the ship. Huts laid in ruin, but they would be rebuilt. The words of the Solars stayed with the village. They would stand ready for whatever challenge laid for them just beyond the horizon. What had been the greatest battle for Sajag had been just another stop for their Solar friends.



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