Moderators: kevinswatch, Orlion
I too have been struck by the communality of Haruchai identity--which had both salutary and dangerous consequences. It caused the ending of the Vow because there was no way to perceive the corruption of Korik, Sill, and Doar as affecting only the three of them rather than defining the character of all Bloodguard. But much later, it also made Brinn's victory over ak-Haru Kenaustin Ardenol into a victory for all Haruchai of all times.Variol Son wrote:The Maori are a very social people, the concept of whanau, or family, being far more important that the concept of self, whcih was really introduced by the Tauiwi (European settlers). This my be similar to how, in White Gold Wielder, Covenant notices that Cail is more comfortable when he is back among his own people.
Exactly. From Gates of Fire:Durris wrote:I imagine the Haruchai had a rich ceremonial life--conducted primarily in telepathy and therefore not seen or heard by flatlanders, with the exception of the large-scale ritual combats seen in Gilden-Fire and WGW.
Ritual intimidation of enemies would seem redundant to how they did things, imho; even in LFB, Bannor is described as being casual and matter-of-fact in manner during his lethal exploits under Kiril Threndor.
The enemy's numbers totalled half again that of the Spartans'. It was not enough and the foe knew it.
Now the clamor began.
Among the enemy's ranks, the bravest (or perhaps the most fear-stricken) began banging the ash of their spear shafts upon the bronze bowls of their shields, creating a tumult of pseudoandreia which reverberated across and around the mountain-enclosed plain. Others reinforced this racket with the warlike thrusting of their spearpoints to heaven and the loosing of cries to the gods and shouts of threat and anger. The roar multiplied threefold, then five, and ten, as the enemy rear ranks and flankers picked the clamor up and contributed their own bluster and bronze-banging. Soon the entire fifty-four hundred were bellowing the war cry. Their commander thrust his spear forward and the mass surged behind him into the advance.
The Spartans had neither moved nor made a sound.
They waited patiently in their scarlet-cloaked ranks, neither grim nor rigid, but speaking quietly to each other words of encouragement and cheer, securing the final preparation for actions they had rehearsed hundreds of times in training and performed dozens and scores more in battle.
