Teodorq sunna Nagarajan has joined an expedition tasked with evaluating the"serving tray" as a suitable observation post for the Nooby Empire. The bulk of the party consists of a squad of rangers, who ride the borderlands tracking down outlaws, bandits and other malefactors. In this scene, Sharn Nickle is a part-time deputy marshal who drives the chow wagon. He is a settler, whose ancestors had once fled the Empire.
The stormwind howled and fanned the rain horizontal. It lifted cloaks and punchos as if it deeply resented the oilcloth keeping their wearers dry. The canvas cover on the chow wagon whipped free of its bows and snapped maniacally,
And the rangers began to sing.
It was hard to make out the words, or even the tune, as the wind scattered them like so much detritus, but Teo paused while helping Sharn secure his cover and tried to make it out.
We’ll track through the night
Or by sunlight so hot,
For we are the Rangers
And you poor sods are not.
We’ll turn our face toward snow and ice,
Toward wind, rain, dust, or heat (yes, sizzling heat)
For we are the Rangers
And never know defeat.
“Catchy tune,” said Teo as the wind died off and the rain softened to a steady cascade. “Too bad they didn’t catch it.”
Sharn yanked a stay-rope tight, glanced up the column, then back to the task at hand. “Imperials are full of themselves.”
Teo shrugged. “Long as there’s enough self to fill ‘em. Or are they all song and no stunt?”
“And it’s not even true,” Sharn complained. “Rangers know defeat. At the siege of Fall River during the Civil War, an entire troop was wiped out to the last man.”
“Ain’t that generally what ‘wiped out’ means?" He thought Sharn unlearned on the nature of defeat.
