Waggy & Whispered Training!

[Samira]

HECK YES I want to keep training! Ah still thinketh ah sucketh. But yeah ah shall begin roleplaying.... as soon as joo maketh a character!!!

[Hornswaggler]

-whacks self- I will soon! D8 X3

Okay, next assignment...-is lazy- I'll give you the same one I did Jessica. Joo must reply to this post;

The clash of metal against metal rang though the clearing, and the slowly setting sun glinted against the swords as they swished though the air. With a grunt of exurtion, Thomas threw himself at a heavily scarred man, sweat pouring down into his light blue eyes. Teeth bared in a feral like snarl, the half-elf shoved his opponent to the ground, for once praising his heritiage. If elf blood didn't flow through him, it would be him splayed on the ground now, but with his strength... Panting heavily, he wiped shoulder length brown hair from his face and peered around the clearing, quickly dodging a knife aimed at his chest. "Samira!" the boy called as another theif charged, swinging his mace wildly. Thomas snorted, nimbly slipping to the side as the man stumbled into the forest. A loud thunk told him enough, and he swallowed, looking about again. "Samira! Sammy, where'd you go?"

[Samira]

Samira's green eyes glowed with the delight of desperate battle. Thomas had never enjoyed this, but she loved it. They were half-siblings, both born of an Elven mother, but Thomas had been raised by his human father, whereas she had lived all her life in the forest with the Elven people. A crunching sound near her made her cringe inwardly. Somebody's bone had been pulverized very nearby. The orc in front of her made a wide swing with his scimitar, and she dropped to a low crouch, nearly touching the ground. As soon as it was passed she rose on springing muscles to a higher position and leaped forward nimbly to slit his belly open. An outraged cry followed her as she turned away from the gore to match battle with dark dryad. They were nothing more than a band of thieves, and in the back of her mind, as she fought agilely with the dryad, she wondered why they fought so visciously.
Thomas' call made her leave any puzzlings and fight harder, disposing of the dryad with a quick thrust of her knife. She looked around, keeping part of her mind on the writhing life around her as she sought her brother. There - over by the big ugly half-elf. He was on the ground, trying to ward off the thrusts of his enemy. She slipped through the fighting, avoiding confrontations until she could come up beind the half-elf. A sickeningly smooth slice and his head rolled away. This was the sort of battle she didn't like; gruesome and mostly unfair. She grabbed Thomas' hand, not speaking as she began pulling him away. As they dodged between swords, maces, knives, and bows, she gave him a quick glace to ascertain whether he was hurt. Blood poured from a wound in his arm as they reached the cover of the thick woods. Behind the huge trees they turned back to see how the tide of the battle went. Before she could see much more than blood and flashing weapons, however, a long, muscled hand had slipped over her mouth. A look out the corners of her eyes told her that Thomas was similarly taken.
"No fear," a low voice murmured in her ear. "We're taking you with us. The Stone can wait."

[Samira]

you should GIVE ME AN ASSIGNMENT!!! or at least answer that post. lazy trainer. dang you.

[Hornswaggler]

Oooh. Dude, you're good. XD Gonna pass me up one day if I can ever remember to train you. =3
Lesse...Next, I give you a VERY random assignment.
I want you to write a short story (very short, as far as stories go) about crayons. They can talk, hop around, or whatever...But yah. Go wild with it.

[Samira]

WHAT?!?!?!?!?! JOO"S NUTS!!! LOCA EN LA CABEZA!!! lolz but ah forgives joo. is this some sort of creativity test? grr. ah ish growlin but joo cant tell. >=(


The whole box was beautiful - bright, radiant colours that fairly leapt of the page once they'd been used; all long and sharp and unspoilt - but it was the green that caught his eye. It was the deepest, purest, clearest green he'd ever seen. It was every deep gemtone of a flawless emerald, the purest innocence of the fresh spring grass, the wild fury of the mysterious pixie people, long underground. Green crayon stood in his place in the box, waiting to be chosen, praying that he would be the first to be honoured by lending the colour of which he was made to the genius of the artist. As the hand descended towards the box, he felt himself quailing inside, trembling with every kind of hope - until the hand passed him by. It was his neighbour, a vibrant Orange that was graced with the first use. Green tried hard to see the page over the edge of the box; the long, daring streaks of orange left on the clean white of the page. The disappointment was accute. It struck to his very soul. No matter, he thought. I must be chosen next.
But he was not. Nor was he chosen after that. In fact, the artist could not bring himself to destroy such a beautiful crayon by taking away from the green, taking the purest, truest, most magical colour to put on his page, leaving the crayon shorter, less perfect. And so he worked his way up by degrees. Once he had used the other crayons, perhaps he could bear to fill in the enchanted bits with Green.
Green, for his part, saw the other crayons as they were returned. At first he hardly noticed, so intent was he on the drawing taking place under the master's hand; but after a bit he began to see the blunted tips, the chips, the scratches, the imperfections left in the other crayons. Royal Blue was only half his height by the time the picture neared completion. Orange had grooves and chips along her from the use she had been put to. Yellow had snapped in half completely. Each crayon had left its mark indelibly on the artwork, a piece without which the picture would never have been truly complete; but each had taken back to the box with it the scars of such a masterpiece.
Green began to rethink his dreams. Perhaps it would be best to stay always in the box and never become splashes of colour in artwork. He was the most beautiful, the flawless one. Surely he deserved better than to be used and discarded. And so on and again, his thoughts festered inside him. Perhaps it served the artist right for choosing other colours in his stead; perhaps the artist deserved a page always lacking his beautiful tones. And when the day finally came that the great hand of the master reached for him, he squirmed his way downward between Orange and Puce, lying sideways at the bottom of the box so that the master could not use him, could not take away his perfect beauty and immaculate aloofness. And after a while, the hand passed over him. He plucked out all the other shades of green, carefully and patiently working on a scrap piece of paper, until he had mimicked Green's shade nearly perfectly. And then he set to work, boldly and in great detail and care replicating the colour he could not use. And the picture was finished. The green was not exactly the same; it was softer, sweeter somehow. Not so strong and not so proud.
And after that other pictures came. Always Green ducked and hid when the hand hesitated above him. The other crayons grew short, broken, chipped. The pictures were done with a mix of greens, because Green would not lower himself to the use for which he was created. And one by one the other crayons were used up entirely, and he was left more and more alone, until he stood, tall and straight, perfect and pure and enchanting, fresh as the day he'd been made, alone in the corner of the box. In all the masterpieces of artwork the artist had created, he had no part. He had preserved himself and destroyed his purpose.
And a day later the old crayon box was burnt with the trash, Greeen Crayon and all, and he was left nothing more than a puddle of wax at the bottom of the incinerator.



Yah. Sorry it sucks. And.. uh fix my italics for me, will ya?! i forgets how to do it. =( lolz

[Samira]

haha hey lazy one - grade my crappy crayon story already! =) lol

Hey lazy one - come on..... I'm still waiting for a grade on the crappy crayon story........??

edit: Hey! Lazy one! Now you've got more to do =P pppp besides grading my crappy crayon story (and seriously, if i ever publish it, it will SO be entitled "the crappy crayon story" in all lower case!) now you have to look over my bio for FP and tell me what joo think, so I can save myself from iminent public embarrassment. XD here. grade.
Name: Shade
Rank: Loner
Location: Roaming round the edges of Silenced-Echoes' boundaries
Gender: She-cat
Age: 16 moons
Pelt: Shade's pelt is a strange shifting shade of grey, darker at the tips and lighter at the roots of the hairs. This gives her a strange shadow-like quality and she is easily missed by even the sharpest eyes. Her fur is thick and soft, and average in length. Her only distinguishing features are the black markings around her eyes and ears, the peculiar kink towards the end of her tail, and her left hind-paw, which has seven toes on it.
Eyes: Her eyes are mostly green, but in the grey light of dusky twilight or blue dawn, they seem to change their colour to a soft, luminescent silver.
Crush/Mate: Shade has no crush or mate - she gave up on love long ago.
Kin: No kin.
Personality: Shade is an odd mixture of cynical derision and hatred, and deep longings and joys. She appears to be cruel, harsh, and utterly wild; cynical and often sarcastic. This, however, is only her mask. She wears a hardened mask to hide the vulnerability of the soft places left in her heart. When there are no others around to notice, she takes delight in simple things and loves beauty. She longs for love and true acceptance, but everyone she's ever known has rejected her. Slowly, painful step by painful step, she trod the weary path away from everything sweet and true; there is a strong wall now between the needs inside her and her strong mask. The road is lonely - she cannot return.
History: Shade was born in a small loner-camp. Before she was six moons old, she saw her father killed in a bloody skirmish. She saw her mother killed only moments later, trying in vain to save Shade's younger sister. Nearly all the cats in the camp were killed that night, and Shade escaped only because she was swept down the river. She would have drowned, but somehow she managed to stay alive until the river hit a slow, broad place and washed her up on dry land. Having coughed up all the water in her tiny lungs, she set out to find prey. She found a predator instead - an old, demented loner from whose menacing, rambling growls she came to understand that she was the prey. It was only the beginning of a life of keeping out of harm's way. Moons passed, and she grew slyer and quicker and quieter. When she saw other cats, she would often watch for a time, and then melt away again. Her far-too-harsh life has taught her to trust nobody, to fight for what she must have, and to never, never love.

[Hornswaggler]

Haha, I sowwie for being all lazy.

The crayon story, I love. It's like...kinda depressing, yet awesome. ^^ I really don't see anything that has to be changed.

Shade, I already graded. XD

Oookay, next assignment...
Oooh, I'm wicked. XD I'll see if you remember what I told joo so long ago. (Or saved it when I sent it to ya. x3)
I'd like you to write a warrior ceremony for Swiftpaw. Anything you don't remember, go ahead and make up, but let's see if joo has good memory. >D

[Samira]

nice. i thought it was boring - so boring i didnt even want to read it again. hehe its still on this thread, isn't it? i'll do it. hangon.

[Samira]

Lethalstar yowled "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Hightree for a Clan meeting!" In a moment, the entire camp was in an uproar. Cats who had been napping or washing leapt to their feet and shook themselves before padding over. Noses poked out of dens, whiskers twitched, cats called to each other. Kits peered curiously at the ceremony they were not allowed to attend. Apprentices nudged each other as they joined the older cats. Before long, however, the entire clan sat alert and silent, waiting. Lethalstar's commanding voice broke the silence. "Swiftpaw, step forward." No cat would have thought to question that voice. Swiftpaw's hear beat more like a sparrow's than like a cat's. His whiskers trembled and his eyes were bright as he stepped out from the ranks of the other cats. He could feel every eye on him as he sat there, feeling suddenly alone and frightened, but strangely excited. "I, Lethalstar, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. She has trained hard in your ways and I commend her to a warrior in your sight. Swiftpaw, do you promise to uphold the Warrior Code, and protect your Clan even at the cost of your life?" The words sent shivers and tingles down the black cat's spine. "I do," she said, hoping her voice was steadier than it sounded to her. She thought she caught a faint amused smile in her leader's eyes. "Then in the approval of StarClan, I give your warrior name. Swiftpaw, you shall now be known as Swiftwind. Swiftwind could hardly contain the upwelling of pride inside her as Lethalstar's pink nose touched her head, and she heard the soft murmur of approval from the clan behind her. "You've done well," Lethalstar murmured, deviating from the set ritual. Swiftwind's tail began twitching with the feelings that she didn't understand. All around she heard her name, voiced by every other cat in the clan.

There. Might suck; I don't know. I"m outta time, so I gotta go. Um, can you give me the new site name for VF2? is it just volcanicflames2.proboards.com? cuz i tried that and it wouldn't let me go there.



hehe found the form =)

[Hornswaggler]

Yeey. ^^ I likee it. One random punctuation error I spotted...

"Then in the approval of StarClan, I give your warrior name. Swiftpaw, you shall now be known as Swiftwind. Swiftwind could hardly contain...

Ya forgot the ending quotes. Mah hawk like eyes picked it up soo fast...>.> (Suuure...) Hem. Anyway, the description was great. Pantha taught you adjectives well. x3

Oookay. -brain blanks- Umm...This'll be a fairly long post, so maybe it'll take you more than two minutes. xDD

I want you to write out the ceremony for a leader. (I found the form, so it shouldn't be too hard. XD) If you wanna put their journey to Soulpool, you can. ^^ Basically they just drink a lil' bit of it and fall asleep. The entire ceremony happens in their dream. Hokay;

StarClan: Welcome (insert leader-to-be's name here). Are you ready to receive your nine lives?
Leader-to-be: Yes
Nine StarClan cats that were closest to the leader-to-be will offer lives of their own.
First StarClan cat: With this live I give you (INSERT VIRTUE1#)
A shock of pain goes through the leader-to-be, leaving him/her gasping.
Second StarClan cat: With this life I give you (INSERT VIRTUE 2#)
Again, a shock of pain goes running through the leader-to-be.
Third StarClan cat: With this life I give you (INSERT VIRTUE 3#)
Less pain goes through the leader-to-be. There is goodness in this life.
Fourth StarClan cat: With this life I give you (INSERT VIRTUE 4#)
This life feels like running forever and the exhilaration of speed.
Fifth StarClan cat: With this life I give you protection. Use it well to care for your Clan as a mother cares for her kits.
The life pains the leader-to-be, like a mother defending her kits.
Sixth StarClan cat: With this life I give you mentoring. Use it well to train the young cats of your Clan.
The life is a great cloud of anguish so great the leader-to-be will think he/she is having a heart attack.
Seventh StarClan cat: With this life I give you compassion. Use it well for the elders of your Clan, and the sick, and all those weaker than you.
The life doesn't hurt as much as the ones at first, and the leader-to-be bares it.
Eighth StarClan cat: With this life I give you love. Use it well for all the cats you care about-especially (insert leader-to-be's mate's name here).
The leader-to-be braces for the pain, but it doesn't come. This life is filled with warmth and love.
Final StarClan cat (the last leader): Welcome, (insert leader-to-be's name here), my warrior and deputy. I knew you would make a great leader one day.
The leader-to-be bows his/her head.
Last leader: With this life I give you nobility, certainty, and faith. Use it well as you lead your Clan in the ways of StarClan and the warrior code.
The warmth of the last life lulled the leader-to-be, and he/she wasn't ready for the agony that followed the last leader's. He/she got fierceness, sadness, and suffering. It got happiness and terror and finally, power. It finally ended in calm acceptance and joy. All the StarClan warriors rise and signal the leader-to-be to rise too.
Last leader: I hail you by your new name, (insert the leader-to-be's new name here). Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants to you the guardianship of (insert the new leader's Clan here). Defend it well; care for the young and old; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the warrior code, and live each life with pride and dignity.
Just like a warrior ceremony, the warriors of StarClan chant the new leader's name.

Again, anything you're not sure of feel free to make up...The books have only shown two of these, and one of 'em was kinda...sketchy, considering the circumstances. XDD This is just kinda what happens, go ahead and add many details.

((OH, and VF is volcanicflamesv2.proboards.com x3 You just forgot the other v.))

[Samira]

Uhuh, that was one of the places that I was directly copying/pasting from the form you gave me ages ago, so i blame you, k? k. =) I miss you. A lot. -sobs- Anyway, thanks for the site. =) i could NOT remember and nobody was on VF (understandably) k i might not finish this time; give me some time. =)

In his mind, he heard StarClan. Was it one voice, or was it many? He couldn't tell. He was surrounded by darkness - and yet there was light all around. He heard silence and the tumult of a thousand new-leaf storms.
"Welcome Fallingecho. Are you ready to receive your nine lives?" Everything was whirling, yet he felt strangely still, strangely peaceful and certain. His voice was steady.
"Yes." He could see the nine StarClan cats that would offer their lives; see them and yet not see them. They were beautiful shadowy figures, yet clear as though they were cats of his own clan.
"With this live I give you (INSERT VIRTUE1#) here's where I need help, Gim. Can you give me sample virtues? what kind of virtues am I going for here?" Suddenly his entire body was twisted and scorched by the blast of pure pain that shot through him. Fallingecho shuddered and gasped, certain he was writhing and twisting; and yet he knew somehow that his outward self was still and silent. It was a new voice that spoke now.
"With this life I give you (INSERT VIRTUE 2#)" And again he felt his body shot through with pain; it coursed through his veins in place of blood, sliced through his lungs in place of air. And still they went on.
"With this life I give you (INSERT VIRTUE 3#)" Pain again; but less pain than before. He could breathe still; he could see still through the awful anguish. Goodness came with this life; strength and something more than he could understand.
"With this life I give you (INSERT VIRTUE 4#)" Speed. He can feel in this life the exhillaration of running forever without failing, of leaping from high places without fear. His heart was pounding as if he were at that moment flying through the trees on paws as light as the last crimson leaf to waft to the ground.
"With this life I give you protection. Use it well to care for your Clan as a mother cares for her kits." And then he felt another pain filling him; not a physical pain as the other pains had been. This pain was in his heart, in his soul; an ache so strong, an edge so sharp, he would have sworn he was utterly broken.
"With this life I give you mentoring. Use it well to train the young cats of your Clan." Pain again, like the last pain; but different. Less fierce; more helpless. Anguish like the low clouds of a thunderstorm filled Fallingecho. His heart had stopped. He couldn't breathe. He would die.
"With this life I give you compassion. Use it well for the elders of your Clan, and the sick, and all those weaker than you." He could breathe again. He sucked in a deep breath. This life hurt as well - did every life hurt? But it was mild compared to the tortures he had endured a moment before. He felt calmer, better able to bear such a pain.
"With this life I give you love. Use it well for all the cats you care about-especially Swiftwater." Pain. He knew pain would come. He felt every muscle tensing, every bit of steel within himself bracing for the pain. He steadied his will to take the pain that would come. But it never came; instead he felt warmth, a full sweet sense of peace and warmth and love.
"Welcome, Fallingecho, my warrior and deputy. I knew you would make a great leader one day." He bowed his head. He could not do otherwise. This final voice continues. "With this life I give you nobility, certainty, and faith. Use it well as you lead your Clan in the ways of StarClan and the warrior code." The warmth of love had laid to rest Fallingecho's tense, alert readiness. The shock of this life's pain caught him entirely unawares, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the fierceness, sadness, and suffering flood through him. But that was not all - he felt happiness and terror and finally, power. It finally ended in calm acceptance and joy. All the StarClan warriors, their strangely vague-yet-clear forms shining palely, rose, and at their signals Fallingecho rose as well. "I hail you by your new name, Fallingstar. Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants to you the guardianship of Fadedclan. Defend it well; care for the young and old; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the warrior code, and live each life with pride and dignity."
As everything around him faded, he heard his new name, over and over. Again, he wondered faintly, was it one voice or many? Fallingstar... Fallingstar... Fallingstar...

[Hornswaggler]

Erm, virtues....Ahah! I found a ceremony that actually had 'em. x3
Cat #1: With this life I give you courage. Use it well in the defense of your Clan.

Cat #2: With this life I give you justice. Use it well as you judge the actions of others.

Cat #3: With this life I give you loyalty to what you know to be right. Use it well to guide your Clan in times of trouble.

Cat #4: With this life I give you tireless energy. Use it well to carry out the duties of a leader.

Like dat. And if you can, try and get in who the cats are that are giving the lives. ^^ The last one is always the previous leader, but the others could be an old deputy, medicine cat, and I think they mostly use family. ^^

[Samira]

can i steal those virtues? they're great. and ill finish it later - i kinda gotta go.

[Hornswaggler]

Oh yes, by all means steal the virtues. xDD I don't know any others.

[Samira]

oh nice. much gratzie.

[Samira]

In his mind, he heard StarClan. Was it one voice, or was it many? He couldn't tell. He was surrounded by darkness - and yet there was light all around. He heard silence and the tumult of a thousand new-leaf storms.
"Welcome Fallingecho. Are you ready to receive your nine lives?" Everything was whirling, yet he felt strangely still, strangely peaceful and certain. His voice was steady.
"Yes." He could see the nine StarClan cats that would offer their lives; see them and yet not see them. They were beautiful shadowy figures, yet clear as though they were cats of his own clan.
"With this live I give you courage." He knew that voice; knew that scent; knew the blue eyes that regarded him gravely. He wanted to mew Father, as he used to as a kit; but he couldn't make a sound come out as the cat continued. "Use it well in the defense of your Clan." Suddenly his entire body was twisted and scorched by the blast of pure pain that shot through him. Fallingecho shuddered and gasped, certain he was writhing and twisting; and yet he knew somehow that his outward self was still and silent. It was a new voice that spoke now. As it spoke, he felt the ache of loss within him, and the euphoria of unexpected meeting. It was his own kit; the one the owls had killed - hatred for the owls burned briefly within him. His kit was no longer the tiny, scruffy imp with the bright, curious eyes; but a small, grave cat among the others of StarClan, only the twinkle in green eyes showing that he still bore his mischievous nature.
"With this life I give you justice. Use it well as you judge the actions of others." And again he felt his body shot through with pain; it coursed through his veins in place of blood, sliced through his lungs in place of air. And still they went on.
"With this life I give you loyalty to what you know to be right. Use it well to guide your Clan in times of trouble." Before the pain struck he tried to reach out a paw to touch his mother's delicate-boned grey face. The pain overcame him before he could find that his paw did not move. Pain again; but less pain than before. He could breathe still; he could see still through the awful anguish. Goodness came with this life; strength and something more than he could understand.
"With this life I give you tireless energy." That voice caught him by surprise. It was a voice he hadn't heard since his apprenticeship. It was his mentor Oakwill's half-chuckle. "Use it well to carry out the duties of a leader." Speed. He can feel in this life the exhillaration of running forever without failing, of leaping from high places without fear. His heart was pounding as if he were at that moment flying through the trees on paws as light as the last crimson leaf to waft to the ground.
"With this life I give you protection." Protection was the perfect gift from that cat - he could see the shadowy mottled pelt before him as his hero spoke; the cat who had saved him during the wars when he was just a wee kit. "Use it well to care for your Clan as a mother cares for her kits." And then he felt another pain filling him; not a physical pain as the other pains had been. This pain was in his heart, in his soul; an ache so strong, an edge so sharp, he would have sworn he was utterly broken.
He couldn't have guessed by the voice, but it was the miss-matched green and blue eyes of the next cat that gave her identity away. She broke ritual to touch her nose to his gently, and instead of the euphoric flutter of a kitty-crush within him, as he would have felt before her death, he felt only a deep warmth of friendship and gratitude for the kindness of a she-cat who had known of his affections and not returned them - and had yet been his friend. "With this life I give you mentoring. Use it well to train the young cats of your Clan." Pain again, like the last pain; but different. Less fierce; more helpless. Anguish like the low clouds of a thunderstorm filled Fallingecho. His heart had stopped. He couldn't breathe. He would die.
The next cat to step forward was one he didn't recognize or remember until the soft, half- apologetic voice ended in a gentle laugh, and he knew it was the medicinecat, Yellowedbough. "With this life I give you compassion. Use it well for the elders of your Clan, and the sick, and all those weaker than you." He hadn't time to wonder quite why the medicinecat should have been chosen to give him a life; pain struck. He could breathe again. He sucked in a deep breath. This life hurt as well - did every life hurt? But it was mild compared to the tortures he had endured a moment before. He felt calmer, better able to bear such a pain.
"With this life I give you love. Use it well for all the cats you care about-especially Swiftriver." Whitewhisker, he recognized, aching to tackle his old playmate as if they were both kittens again. Pain. He knew pain would come. He felt every muscle tensing, every bit of steel within himself bracing for the pain. He steadied his will to take the pain that would come. But it never came; instead he felt warmth, a full sweet sense of peace and warmth and love.
"Welcome, Fallingecho, my warrior and deputy. I knew you would make a great leader one day." He bowed his head. He could not do otherwise as he heard the deep, grave voice of Avidstar. His respect for the leader had always been even greater than might have been expected of a deputy for his leader. It had been almost as if Avidstar had been his father, after the death of the tom who had sired him. "With this life I give you nobility, certainty, and faith. Use it well as you lead your Clan in the ways of StarClan and the warrior code." The warmth of love had laid to rest Fallingecho's tense, alert readiness. The shock of this life's pain caught him entirely unawares, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the fierceness, sadness, and suffering flood through him. But that was not all - he felt happiness and terror and finally, power. It finally ended in calm acceptance and joy. All the StarClan warriors, their strangely vague-yet-clear forms shining palely, rose, and at their signals Fallingecho rose as well. "I hail you by your new name, Fallingstar. Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants to you the guardianship of Fadedclan. Defend it well; care for the young and old; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the warrior code, and live each life with pride and dignity."
As everything around him faded, he heard his new name, over and over. Again, he wondered faintly, was it one voice or many? Fallingstar... Fallingstar... Fallingstar...