Post by LuJian Zands on Sept 1, 2009 2:30:05 GMT -5
This was an old character history from a different Avatar RP I tried out. I don't think I'd feel right playing him here, that and it is a bit long so I figured I'd post it here and see what people thought as I do enjoy sharing it. Failing anything, it's hopeful entertainment for 10 minutes.
The accounts of Dashimo Ty-Jiang
My family has had a long tradition and line of powerful earthbenders. Throughout history the Nobles of the Dashimo name has served the earth kingdom since before the days of Avatar Kyoshi. Our family has served in Kingdom in countless ways, as generals in the military, instructors in the bender schools, as royal guardsmen and even amongst the ranks of the Dai-Li. There are few who do not know of the idomitable courage and deadly cunning of the lionraven of house Dashimo, the crest of our family.
However, there are many of us who know shame that comes with those not born with the gift of earthbending. My uncle Zhoh has experienced this shame, as have I, for neither of us at that time seemed to be blessed with the skill of bending.
My brother Yong on the other hand, was an exceptional bender, and thus he became the favoured son as a result. We didn't always get along, although I do remember that he always tired to make the best of our situation. Father would train him personally, being powerful bender himself and pay for the finest instructors. I on the other hand, simply wasn't given the same treatment, and while my brother often mentioned this to my father, he was always dismissive. I miss Yong terribly, but that sorrow gives way to the resolve of doing all I can to help end the conflict with the fire nation.
He quickly progressed through his schooling was given great ease in ascending to the officer ranks in the military. I on the other hand, was constantly overshadowed by Earthbenders who had the support of their families. Military school was not pleasant, as I didn’t make many friends. I was not able to bend, so I wasn't able to befriend the earthbenders, and I was still a noble’s son making it difficult to befriend the rank and file. Those I did make were reassigned far away after graduation. I heard many of them died fighting, but there were a few still out there. Had it not been for the moral support of my Uncle, I doubt I would have been able to make Sergeant. This was a worthy accomplishment for a graduate without bending, not that my parents took anything more then token notice.
My uncle Zhoh was the quartermaster of the school. His military career was cut short after a crippling injury with the fire nation troops. Old Steeltoe is what they called him, for the steel prosthetic he needed to walk. He took me under his tutelage, teaching me the ways of proper technique, strategy, Pai Sho and riding. He always favoured the white tile lotus for some reason, even though he admitted that clinging to that strategy made him predictable at the game. He was a fearsome warrior in his day, but his time of glory was cut short by a fire nation tank. He is a good man, and it was his training that made me from a run of the mill soldier to a class act, although still in the shadow of benders at the time. He did as much as he could for me, and when I graduated, he seemed content to hammer away at his forge, and fade away as all old soldiers do.
Eventually I was assigned to the northern lands of the earth kingdom. For the most part, away from the bulk of the fighting, my unit won a few victories against the fire nation. I wrote of them to my parents, they replied with a minor praise followed by a recant of Fong's wondrous career. I felt so powerless; as I was trying everything I could but was getting nowhere without their support. I learned later, my father had been using his connections to keep me away from the bulk of the fighting, thinking I was too weak to serve on the western front.
My uneventful career progressed, my unit eventually we had caught wind of a fire nation patrol near one of the northern villages. We found the village destroyed by a flood. Although we were never able to prove it, we suspected that firebenders had melted the surrounding icepack. The leader of their village was a man known as the Mechanist. We couldn't leave those people by themselves, so we lead them into the mountains to hopefully find a better place for them. Eventually we came across one of the temples of the long dead airbenders. They settled there, as it seemed to be the only logical choice.
I made it a point to explore the temple, if only to broaden my horizons and to make sure nothing else had taken up residence there, human or otherwise. I discovered many hidden chambers within their ancient temple. Specifically the massive underground network of air tunnels that they must have used in their training. However, as I continued to walk the temple, finding remnants of their culture and teachings, amongst the charred bones, I began learning of their history and techniques. I even chose to implement their practices into my own regimen and form. As my uncle said, the world is forever in flux, a wise general cannot afford to close his mind, simply because a tactic has always worked. Of course, my father would have said tradition is tried and true and never fails, but his influence on my life has always been meager.
I wish to make it clear; I am not an airbender nor do I possess even a ounce of skill in that gift. The very idea of myself as a humble monk is laughable, and as we all know only the avatar has the capacity to bend more then one element. People sometimes get confused by my martial prowess, claiming I must at least be a novice airbender, which how fast I move on the battlefield. I do allow for people to spread those rumors though, even if they are untrue. If you can get into your enemy's head with such foolishness they begin to make mistakes. It has been said, a wise combatant imposes his will on his enemy, and reputation is but an extension of that. While I have derived and adapt some of my techniques from what is left of their writings, my unique style is not the result of airbending.
In truth, it is because my equipment is incredibly well made and designed, but that is for later in the tale. When you add that to years of physical training and dedication, you are simply able to do things that other men cannot even conceive. The wind bows before the hummingbird whose wings are fast enough to catch it. That does not make the hummingbird and airbender though. Without a doubt though, there is truth in their ways, and perhaps it was their meditations and spiritual teachings that unlocked my own bending abilities.
The airbenders always abided by a strict philosophy of non-violence. While I will confess, it is noble one that I respect and empathize with; it is a philosophy though as a soldier, I could never adopt myself. The world is harsh place, and those who are not prepared to deal with the harsh reality of mortal man’s inadequacies, will surely be undone by them. While it does not mean we stop trying to better ourselves, it does teach us a lesson that we must guard ourselves and prepare for the ills of the world. It is a painful truth, as most truths are. I suppose the airbenders felt they could live apart from that truth, high within the mountains that touch the heavens.
They were a better people then we who dwell upon the earth are. In the end, they were regrettably too good for this world. I'm not sure if they would have wanted me to know anything of their teachings, being a soldier. I do think that they did believe in the pursuit of knowledge, even if once unleashed, can never be silenced, whether it be for good or ill. I also think they believed in bettering oneself, which I do strive for. Then again, perhaps that is nothing more then an excuse of a man obsessed with serving his country and upholding the pride of his family.
As I wandered those caves and rocky crags as the mechanist's people settled themselves in. I had entered deep into the mountain when one of the tunnels collapsed under me. I had fallen far too deep for anyone to reach me, and became lost in the heart of the mountain. I cursed my curiosity that had gotten me into this mess. I cursed what I had learned from the airbenders, as no doubt their vengeful ghosts had collapsed the tunnel. Then I cursed my own failure as a Dashimo, for being born without the gift, for if I was an earthbender, I could have easily freed myself.
I wandered lost within the utter blackness of those caves. My torch had extinguished and I had lost both it and my tinderbox during the fall. I must have been down there for weeks if not months looking for a way out. Eventually, I finally returned to the place I had fallen down from, which I only managed to find by tripping over my fallen torch.
My soul was filled with despair, as I was going to die honourless, forgotten and alone deep bellow the northern air temple. I tried to use the meditations that I had learned from my schooling as well as those of the airbenders to calm myself and clear my head. It was to no avail, and in the futile attempt something inside me snapped, although popped into place would be a better term when I look back on it, even though at the time it felt like the world had somehow been broken. I fell to my knees, my hands upon the ground and wailed like a madman.
It was horrifying, everything was closing in, and it felt like everything around me had turned to dry quicksand, and that I was going to sink deep into its depths. I remember thinking that this must be what claustrophobia was, as I flailed and screamed helplessly, horrified at how I could be lying upon something that seemed so insubstantial and not drown within its depths, but even more so wondering when the ceiling would fall, and bury me alive. It was then I felt it for the first time.
I remember feeling something remotely solid amongst the dissolving world around me, although perhaps solid is not the right word. It still had a malleable quality to it, almost like rubber, but well....I can't really describe it, and struggle to do so to this day. All I knew that I clenched unto it for dear life. When I moved, it moved and when I remained still so did it. It was smooth to the touch, and cold despite its strange texture. After I managed to gain some semblance of composure, I eventually I even opted to stand on it, as it was my island in the darkness.
I remember trying to calm myself, trying to convince myself I wasn't going crazy. I told myself, maybe the airbenders somehow used this place to meditate, or they had a way of drawing air from the rocks and I triggered something. None of it made sense, even though I suppose confused horror was an improvement from utter despair. Eventually I composed myself, and began searching for other such islands with my feet. I found no such thing, but even despite that, I was overcoming my horror with rationality. I began to put my weight upon the sand beyond my island, preparing to clutch onto it like a life preserver. It felt like I should have sunk into it, as a pebble in a bog but it remained steadfast. Even more puzzling was when I tried to grab at the ground; it was one solid piece even though it felt insubstantial.
It strikes me that my writing at this point may seem hard to follow. If it seems that way that is the intention. I had been thrown into an alien situation that may have pushed me to the edge of madness. If my description seems lacking it is because I cannot stress how bizarre the world had become, especially when you cannot see with your own eyes in utter blackness. Eventually, I took a leap of faith and stepped onto the dissolution that the world had become, and found myself standing upon it.
I did not feel comfortable with the feeling, as it felt at any moment whatever loophole in reality I had found would close itself, and I would plummet to my doom. Eventually I found other islands of stability, even some amongst the walls of this chamber of insubstantiality. As I said, these islands felt malleable, although were far more solid then my surroundings. They seemed to relent when I attempted to grab them, though so I experimented.
I trust my hand into it, it was cool and almost like pudding. I then clenched my fist, grabbing onto it from within. It was incredibly heavy, despite it's rubber like texture. Eventually I pulled at it with all of my might and wretched it from its home with a resounding clunk as it hit the ground, which shocked me as I had expected the sand like floor to muffle the sound. I didn't know what it was, I couldn't see it in the total darkness, and frankly I wanted my hand back so I released my grip and pulled out from it. I remember feeling some of it's residue on my hand that I shook off. When I did so, I had heard the familiar sound of coins dropping onto the ground.
I wouldn't have my epiphany for some time yet, so upon hearing the sound, I quickly scoured the cave for whatever had made that sound, now somewhat trusting that it was solid. I found them; they were circular discs of the strange material. They like whatever it was before, felt almost as liquid, but not. I dropped them several times, trying to discover what had happened, and they replied with the same resounding jingle. They kept their form admirably, even though my mind struggled with the concept of something so gelatine being able to hold form. I couldn't see it with my eyes, as I was lost in total darkness. Whatever it was, maybe it would be my ticket out of here.
I went back to the larger object, and cleared my head. I once more thrust my hand into it and drew its strange material into my hand. However, instead of shaking it off, I kept it in my hand slowly squeezing it and pulling it out with my other hand. I fashioned it into spike, even though it felt malleable in my hand, maybe I could use it to climb out of this place. I drew another spike out of the substance, and using a clod of the solid, sand-like ground, and used it to hammer the spike into the side of the walls, making sparks that hurt my eyes, that had fallen into disuse. It took my a while, and several spikes and attempts but I managed to climb back up to what I had hoped was the tunnel I fell into, although it was an insubstantial seeming as the rest of the world.
I ran towards what I thought was the light, tripping more then a few times, until eventually I was met by the setting of sun amongst the mountain peaks. I felt jubilation, at first but then as it dawned on me that the rock cliff I stood upon felt as insubstantial as the caverns. My mind reeled at the concept, and I blacked out waking up in one of the rooms in the air temple.
It took some time getting used to my new outlook on the world. The mechanist offered his aid, and we became friends. Eventually I led him to the place I fell, to figure out what had happened. When he ignited the torch in those abandoned cave, the understanding of what my gift was became clear. The islands which I had so feverishly clung were hundreds of deposits of Iron and Copper ore. More shocking was the face of the walls, where the massive deposits had hand markings upon them, as if someone had pulled a perfect chunk out of the ore itself. It was then; I walked up to them, and made them smooth when the understanding truly came. I possessed the gift of metalbending, something that was but a legend, even in the times of Avatar Kyoshi and unheard of in this modern day.
The old man was grateful for my discovering for the Iron would aid him in his inventions. I asked him that he swear to never tell a soul, and as far as I knew he kept that promise. I wanted to sort things out for myself, and he respected my wishes. He gave me one of his inventions. He called it a repeating bow, and he gave it in thanks for aiding them in their exodus from their village.
My men, who had received orders in my absence, had already departed for the front. I returned to my post, even despite the reports of my death. I was about to write home my discovery when I received orders to take leave and return home. I thought it was strange, but it would give me a chance to display my gift in person.
When I returned home, I was met with grief. My brother Yong had passed away at the front, doing battle with the fire nation. He had apparently died, whilst leading his men on a poorly strategized campaign, bringing shame to his name. I remember my mother weeping with joy when I arrived at our estate’s gates. At least one of her two sons had survived. My father on the other hand, while happy for my return but could not hide his despair. Yong’s was his pride and joy, and a credit to our house. He had hoped to leave the position of head of house to him. Now, all he had left was a rank and file sergeant who could not even bend. While he wanted to make sure the family would carry on, he was like a caged animal whose spirit had been broken. We all mourned for several weeks before we began to move on.
My parents wanted me to stay home and teach beginners history at one of the military academies. My uncle had an in there, and I could meekly continue the family line in safety that way. Perhaps they would have a chance at gaining grandchildren who could bend. It was a tempting offer, but years of training to be a soldier screamed against this menial position my parents wanted to thrust upon me. While they had love, for me it hurt me at how I was nothing more then a lost child to them, who needed to be coddled. What hurt me more was having my father look at me, and pretend I was the world to him when we both knew he did not view me as such. He thirsted for the honour as much as I, for his sons were destined to bring to the house, as he and his ancestors before. Such is the way of all of house Dashimo. However, fate had forced him into accepting that a B grade history teacher was all they could have me be. He had once preached death before dishonour, but the words held little meaning to him now.
It was sorely tempting to tell them of the discovery of my bending powers, but I was too overcome with grief at my brother's death when I first arrived and then too filled with shame at how my parents viewed me after I had accepted the news. I simply couldn't tell them, for I knew if I did, they would cast me as the saviour of our family, for all the wrong reasons. To them, despite all that had happened, the ability to bend, was the only thing that made a success in their eyes and it both angered and depressed me.
I turned to the only man I knew I could trust, my Uncle Zhoh. He said he could get me a job at the academy if I wished it, but that he doubted that was why I was here. I had always sought to prove myself worthy of my name, and he knew I did not want to waste away behind these walls as he had. He told me to accept it, as a general must know when fight and when to become elusive. I told him, that I felt it was time to fight and for me to return to the front. He scoffed at me and said that a warrior must know not only his enemy, but his own limitations. I said I wasn’t as “limited” as I once was. He said that if I could not show an old fool as he and make him believe it was for naught. I would, but I made him swear that he did tell a soul.
He seemed intrigued and went along with it, thinking it was some foolish child’s game. It was then I grabbed one of his swords, and using my power, bent it into a perfect circle. He seemed shocked and told me that metalbending was but a myth and that with training I could no doubt become just what my parents desired. I told him could not do such a thing. I wanted them to understand it was not bending that made me their son, it was who I was and the honour of my spirit that was important.
He couldn’t respond to that, and frowned, for he knew there was truth in my words. He responded to me by saying he had already given his word so he was at a loss, but that it wasn't worthy of a good son to lie to them in their time of weakness. I told him, I would tell them, after I had their respect and that it wasn’t worthy of them to cast us both aside for all these years. He stroked his beard, and turned to his forge, and began hammering at the steel. He said that if I were to do this, I would need the right training and tools, and to get started. Thus, I gave my father the ok to pull his strings into my uncle's academy as that history teacher.
My uncle and I spent three years preparing, both in his forge and at the academy. The cushy job of a history teacher was boring and tried my patience but left me with plenty of spare time. Young children are easily amazed as they stood in awe to my “cool scars” and occasional display of a combat technique. Thus during class, I would study our academy’s library worth of military strategy, history but I also studied alchemy, as I felt it’s used could aid in my knowledge of bending. Every morning, just before the older cadets were starting their morning drills, in the evening after they had finished supper. I would beat them to the stations, putting myself into a gruelling regimen of physical training. The drill instructors loved it, for they told their students that, my examples were what to be expected, much to the dread of the cadets.
When I couldn't train my body, I trained my mind, devoting time to hone my techniques and meditations, in the privacy of my uncle’s basement. The academy gave me the chance to learn from the finest warriors and benders that the earth kingdom could offer, as many veterans would make visits. As a cadet I could only benefited from maybe one such experience, in my senior year but as an instructor, it gave me ample chances to learn. I was always learning and bettering myself, soaking knowledge and technique like a sponge.
Almost every day though, I went to my Uncle Zhoh's forge. He was always an average smith, but with me at his side things were different. My ability to metal bend matured in that forge as I felt the steel and began to understand how it reacted to different metals and stresses. My uncle's smithing improved by leaps and bounds, as did my bending. The forge was the perfect place to gain an understanding of metal and steel, and my bending allowed for him to gain wisdom that no smith could ever discover on his own. I could extract the impurities out metal, and would understand which substances were key to developing new and better alloys. In our testing, I even learned of how to sense metal at a distance, although I’ve never attempted to bend for that far, so I’m not sure if I could do it without physical contact.
We made many different types of steel, and many creations. I even sent some of our mixtures to the mechanist. He seemed appreciative for them, being a tinker himself. Our first task was finding a way to level the playing field against firebenders. The first weapon we made was a flail, whose chain links would withstand even the greatest of heat. This would allow me to strike at firebenders at a distance, even from behind cover and make it difficult for them to dodge. However, it is my least favourite weapon as the chain links are too heavy, making it hard to control when close to my allies.
The lessons we learned making it though, led us to the amazing heat resistance of ceramic, of which we used as a basis for my armour. Heavy armour has always been effective against standard troops, but was abandoned long ago as it fares so poorly against benders. The lack of mobility was too often an unworthy trade-off, especially against firebenders, who would cook troops in their own armour.
That didn’t deter us, as we made a suit of spring like alloy that would draw heat into a set of special ceramic scales that were braced under the armour, still allowing for decent mobility. Granted the armour was much less effective from strike with a sword, spear or axe. I would have to rely on my superior technique to protect me in that regard. The benefit though, was its ceramic scales would absorb and shed heat making it the perfect armour against fire benders. As an added bonus, it fared excellent against arrows and bolts as the ceramic scales would crack and seem to dissipate the impact.
Our next project was to be a blade that would never break or rust. Earthbenders can do a number on a sword or spear, easily breaking it and water and firebenders can warp a blade with enough heat or lack thereof. I wanted something that could fall back on in case of disaster. That and I wanted to learn more of how to work with steel before we crafted my own preferred weapon. The key to a good sword is that its exterior must be unyielding, but its core needs to be flexible. Most smiths typically use clay to produce this effect, but my ability allowed me to keep the softer metal at the core of the blade, and harder metal at the edge, and blend them seamlessly made for something far beyond that most smiths. The only downside is that my blade is too flexible, meaning the edges dulls far too easily when met with steel and as combat progresses, and becomes less likely to deal a killing blow. It still makes for a superb parrying aid. The blade itself is unbreakable as we even tried to break it over my uncle’s anvil to no avail.
Learning from our past work, we set upon the task to craft my preferred weapon, a ji or halberd that some people have come to call it. I had always been a horseman, as mobility and reach are amongst the greatest keys of combat so the use of the most versatile of pole weapons was the obvious choice. Thus in our last year, we crafted the great halberd “Yueyamo” which roughly translates to “Moon Demon” in the old tongue.
The steel alloy core beneath its willow and cork shaft, allows for it to handle incredible stresses far beyond anything I know of, as well as keep it perfectly balanced. The thorn on its backside is excellent for ripping open even heavy tank armour like a can opener or pulling men from their mounts. Its spearhead, possesses an edge so sharp it can cleave spider’s silk upon the wind, and pierce glass without breaking or cracking it. Last, its crescent blade while not particularly sharp is the greatest quality of the weapon. It’s beyond diamond like hardness can bludgeon to death a man in heavy armour, or leave him with cracked bones that take him out of combat and hopefully back to his family. It also makes it hard to parry against, as even the sharpest of weapons that fail to dig into its edge, requiring an iron grip to hold onto them. However, its true purpose is that it is designed to cleave the insubstantial. This allows me to carry the wind, as it whistles with every sweeping strike. As such, it can parry the blasts of elemental fury that benders use.
With these weapons, and a good mount, I would be perfectly equipped to deal with any threat the fire nation would be able to throw at me. You might still be asking yourself how someone who doesn’t utilize bending could stand a hope at victory. Allow me to take some time to explain, exactly how important my equipment is, that way you can grasp my tactics more fully.
When you engage a firebender at a distance, he will simply cook you with burst after burst of flame. His offence is so relentless it’s hard to defend yourself from it, even if you have a strong enough shield or the ability to bend. Thus you are left dodging, praying you can close the distance on him, while he uses his mobility to thwart you. Since so you are so far away from him, you can’t engage him and exploit the lack of defence the style has.
Stones from a sling work tolerably if you can aim them well, but they are useless against even light leather armour which some will wear. That and they don’t really do much damage or have stopping power. Standard arrows from a bow, don’t work, because they require the shaft to move effectively through the air, and that will simply be consumed by his barrage of flame. A steel crossbow bolt will work, as few firebenders possess the power to melt the bolt before it hits them.
However even that is foolhardy, as most crossbows only fire once, and take an unacceptably long time to reload. Thus if you miss, not only will he be looking for you to shoot him if you manage to find cover, his overwhelming offence will make reloading all but impossible. That and even if you hit him, the time you took to aim that shot may have given him the chance to fry you with one last fireball.
This is why the mechanist’s repeating bow is such a good weapon, as it doesn’t need to reload. Granted it doesn’t have the penetration of a standard bow, making it all but useless against heavy armour or shields. Firebenders however, seldom wear heavy armour because their style has so little defence to properly utilize it, and a shield hampers too many of the movements they need to perform. A few take up swordsmanship try and combat this weakness, but they are few and far between. Most rely on dodging and mobility, mainly because most earthbenders would simply keep hurling boulders at them if they weren’t able to dodge like a flickering candle. Being able to simply spray bolts in their general area is a great way at beating them at their own distance game.
So, given that repeating bows are rare weapons and other ranged attacks are useless unless you can bend, this may lead you to the conclusion that you need to close the distance. That conclusion is correct, but it’s hard to do so without somehow enduring a few flame strikes. Unless you can parry them with bending or are quicker then lightening, you are going to suffer, hence my need for specialized armour and weaponry.
However, even if you close the distance, the problem becomes, if you get too close, you are almost worse off. Firebenders know that steel absorbs and conducts heat, and thus they strike at your sword blade if you get too close, heating the steel and forcing you to drop it. If you come at them with an axe, they can’t do that because the hardwood shaft doesn’t absorb heat, fast enough. Unfortunately, that’s when they simply set the area around them on fire, knowing they can bathe in their flames and you can’t. This forces you to withdraw, giving them a chance to either attack again or make distance, so they can continue their ranged assault.
A whip also works well in this regard as you can use it at a range, and its unpredictable swing makes dodging difficult. However, a leather whip will just get dissolved, when exposed to fire. A flail made of chain links and a small steel ball is another story. The links will heat but the shaft won’t. Unless he can target the individual links and break the flail, he’s at a loss. This is why my flail uses such a resilient material, for as we all know a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. I don’t like using the flail though, as it’s not very effective against troops who have even moderate armour and it is very hard to control. You can easily crack one of your men’s skulls by accident if you’re not careful.
A polearm though, has reach, which means they can’t simply set the area on fire because you still have room to dodge and move at that distance. Thus you are able to counter and exploit his lack of defence. In addition, while the steel head of the pole will heat, it will contain it and not transmit that heat to the hardwood shaft. You need only look at how redwoods, oaks and willows still remain standing after vicious forest fires. Thus he can’t make you drop your weapon by heating the metal. This is all apart from the other numerous advantages, the polearm brings against mundane troops, especially from horseback. I hope that gives you something of an insight as to the importance of tactics, intelligence and bringing the right equipment to the right battle, and just how helpless even I would be without it.
Regardless, word about my uncle’s creations eventually leaked throughout the academy, and later after I had left, throughout the kingdom. It started when I began wearing the sword he gave me, people demanded to see it. Everything else was kept in strict secrecy, because I could not let my parents know of what we were doing. Besides, my bending greatly sped up the work needed to forge his weapons. Under normal circumstances, my sword alone would have taken a year to craft, so it wasn’t even conceived he might have been working on something else during that time. A parrying weapon wasn’t completely beyond reason as a smith to give to a close relative.
My uncle developed a reputation as one of the greatest smiths, alive and orders lined up for his work. He had managed, with the secret aid of my metalbending to regain his honour, in a unique way. This pleased my parents, of course, although they wondered about how he came about his sudden insight into the nature of steel. Of course, an old man’s skill at a craft was not the hope of carrying military excellence, through to the next generation.
Uncle Zhoh was always a wise one that is for sure. He had no use for wealth, and so he forged weapons at cost (which usually was high but not prohibitively so) in exchange for favours amongst those who requested his work. None however were as good as what we made together, as without my insight or my final touch to delicately adjust the interior of the steel perfectly. What he could make though, far surpassed the work of his peers. This aided us both, for when I made my cloak and dagger return to the service.
Eventually, everything fell into place. Years of work had paid off and I finally prepared. I resigned my post at the academy and reenlisted almost overnight. My uncle pulled strings to get me assigned to the worst of the combat. Years of working as a quartermaster, made my uncle extremely skilled at rushing and burying requests through the military bureaucracy. He said he would keep my parents busy until it was already part of the campaign, and too late to recall. He said he had friends that he had made playing Pai Cho over the years who would make sure that any such orders did come down the chain, they’d be lost. Backed by the favours my uncle earned at his forge, he silently hamstrung the efforts of my parents to have me recalled.
While my parents had their hands tied behind their back, much to their outrage. The letters they wrote to me personally were less then flattering and filled with worry, demanding I return home. I suppose I should have gone to them personally and proclaimed my return to the military, but I worried if they knew they would be able to muster enough political clout to prevent my exodus.
I did write back to them, saying I would no longer live as a caged lion, eating the scraps that were cast to me and that this was something I had to do. I told them not to worry, as I would prove myself as a worthy successor to our name. They threatened to disown me, but I knew that it was a bluff. To do so at this time would only make them seem unable to control their own, incredibly small house affairs, furthering their shame. Besides, even if they did it didn’t matter. I would bring honour to my name, and that of my house even if they did. Eventually they stopped writing, which I'm not sure either good or bad at the time. I hope because their hands were tied, or my uncle spoke and made them believe in me.
And thus, that is the story of how I found my new home upon the lines, much to the chagrin of the fire nation. I've fought countless battles out here, and have been if not the victor then the savior in many of them. My commanders consider me reckless, but they stand in awe of my martial prowess, ability to inspire and grasp of tactics that has allowed me to beat many troops and firebenders with little difficulty. They know my skill and ability, and reassign me constantly to thick of the fighting. I have ordered the retreat when needed, and used cunning strategy to win many battles. My education and style continues to adapt as I try to absorb and learn from both my friends and foes and my mistakes and successes. I continue to work my way up through the ranks. I was a Sergeant when I ended my first tour and now I hold the rank of Captain, going on Major.
I've heard what they call me in the taverns and it is good they tell my tale, for I want it to reach home. They call me the Whirlwind of Steel for when I go into battle I am a center of calm amongst a storm of carnage, and that my style seems to emulate the movements of the ancient airbenders. My mother has begun writing to me again, she shows concern and begs me to be careful, but she now believes in me and that fills me with pride. Perhaps one day I will win my father’s praise as well.
I had heard the soldiers of the fire nation call me the Hungry Wind Ghost. That I am the vengeful dead spirit, of an airbender raised from beyond the grave. The airbenders were not a vengeful people, and their ignorance speaks volumes so I opted to use it against them. I painted the streak of broken, blue arrow on my helmet as to terrify them more. I would rather they flee or throw down their arms then fight, for supreme excellence is breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting. When they see the halberd "Yueyamo" they cannot help but worry, which only aids my cause.
I fight to bring and end to this war with courage and honour. It has costed so many lives, and it will cost many more, but it is a war that must be fought. The men Earth Kingdom have come to know once again, that when they see the lion-raven banner of house Dashimo, they know that victory near always strides with them. I do not think that there is anything in this could please me more, save the world being a perfect sanctuary of peace that the ancient airbenders once tried to realize.
The accounts of Dashimo Ty-Jiang
My family has had a long tradition and line of powerful earthbenders. Throughout history the Nobles of the Dashimo name has served the earth kingdom since before the days of Avatar Kyoshi. Our family has served in Kingdom in countless ways, as generals in the military, instructors in the bender schools, as royal guardsmen and even amongst the ranks of the Dai-Li. There are few who do not know of the idomitable courage and deadly cunning of the lionraven of house Dashimo, the crest of our family.
However, there are many of us who know shame that comes with those not born with the gift of earthbending. My uncle Zhoh has experienced this shame, as have I, for neither of us at that time seemed to be blessed with the skill of bending.
My brother Yong on the other hand, was an exceptional bender, and thus he became the favoured son as a result. We didn't always get along, although I do remember that he always tired to make the best of our situation. Father would train him personally, being powerful bender himself and pay for the finest instructors. I on the other hand, simply wasn't given the same treatment, and while my brother often mentioned this to my father, he was always dismissive. I miss Yong terribly, but that sorrow gives way to the resolve of doing all I can to help end the conflict with the fire nation.
He quickly progressed through his schooling was given great ease in ascending to the officer ranks in the military. I on the other hand, was constantly overshadowed by Earthbenders who had the support of their families. Military school was not pleasant, as I didn’t make many friends. I was not able to bend, so I wasn't able to befriend the earthbenders, and I was still a noble’s son making it difficult to befriend the rank and file. Those I did make were reassigned far away after graduation. I heard many of them died fighting, but there were a few still out there. Had it not been for the moral support of my Uncle, I doubt I would have been able to make Sergeant. This was a worthy accomplishment for a graduate without bending, not that my parents took anything more then token notice.
My uncle Zhoh was the quartermaster of the school. His military career was cut short after a crippling injury with the fire nation troops. Old Steeltoe is what they called him, for the steel prosthetic he needed to walk. He took me under his tutelage, teaching me the ways of proper technique, strategy, Pai Sho and riding. He always favoured the white tile lotus for some reason, even though he admitted that clinging to that strategy made him predictable at the game. He was a fearsome warrior in his day, but his time of glory was cut short by a fire nation tank. He is a good man, and it was his training that made me from a run of the mill soldier to a class act, although still in the shadow of benders at the time. He did as much as he could for me, and when I graduated, he seemed content to hammer away at his forge, and fade away as all old soldiers do.
Eventually I was assigned to the northern lands of the earth kingdom. For the most part, away from the bulk of the fighting, my unit won a few victories against the fire nation. I wrote of them to my parents, they replied with a minor praise followed by a recant of Fong's wondrous career. I felt so powerless; as I was trying everything I could but was getting nowhere without their support. I learned later, my father had been using his connections to keep me away from the bulk of the fighting, thinking I was too weak to serve on the western front.
My uneventful career progressed, my unit eventually we had caught wind of a fire nation patrol near one of the northern villages. We found the village destroyed by a flood. Although we were never able to prove it, we suspected that firebenders had melted the surrounding icepack. The leader of their village was a man known as the Mechanist. We couldn't leave those people by themselves, so we lead them into the mountains to hopefully find a better place for them. Eventually we came across one of the temples of the long dead airbenders. They settled there, as it seemed to be the only logical choice.
I made it a point to explore the temple, if only to broaden my horizons and to make sure nothing else had taken up residence there, human or otherwise. I discovered many hidden chambers within their ancient temple. Specifically the massive underground network of air tunnels that they must have used in their training. However, as I continued to walk the temple, finding remnants of their culture and teachings, amongst the charred bones, I began learning of their history and techniques. I even chose to implement their practices into my own regimen and form. As my uncle said, the world is forever in flux, a wise general cannot afford to close his mind, simply because a tactic has always worked. Of course, my father would have said tradition is tried and true and never fails, but his influence on my life has always been meager.
I wish to make it clear; I am not an airbender nor do I possess even a ounce of skill in that gift. The very idea of myself as a humble monk is laughable, and as we all know only the avatar has the capacity to bend more then one element. People sometimes get confused by my martial prowess, claiming I must at least be a novice airbender, which how fast I move on the battlefield. I do allow for people to spread those rumors though, even if they are untrue. If you can get into your enemy's head with such foolishness they begin to make mistakes. It has been said, a wise combatant imposes his will on his enemy, and reputation is but an extension of that. While I have derived and adapt some of my techniques from what is left of their writings, my unique style is not the result of airbending.
In truth, it is because my equipment is incredibly well made and designed, but that is for later in the tale. When you add that to years of physical training and dedication, you are simply able to do things that other men cannot even conceive. The wind bows before the hummingbird whose wings are fast enough to catch it. That does not make the hummingbird and airbender though. Without a doubt though, there is truth in their ways, and perhaps it was their meditations and spiritual teachings that unlocked my own bending abilities.
The airbenders always abided by a strict philosophy of non-violence. While I will confess, it is noble one that I respect and empathize with; it is a philosophy though as a soldier, I could never adopt myself. The world is harsh place, and those who are not prepared to deal with the harsh reality of mortal man’s inadequacies, will surely be undone by them. While it does not mean we stop trying to better ourselves, it does teach us a lesson that we must guard ourselves and prepare for the ills of the world. It is a painful truth, as most truths are. I suppose the airbenders felt they could live apart from that truth, high within the mountains that touch the heavens.
They were a better people then we who dwell upon the earth are. In the end, they were regrettably too good for this world. I'm not sure if they would have wanted me to know anything of their teachings, being a soldier. I do think that they did believe in the pursuit of knowledge, even if once unleashed, can never be silenced, whether it be for good or ill. I also think they believed in bettering oneself, which I do strive for. Then again, perhaps that is nothing more then an excuse of a man obsessed with serving his country and upholding the pride of his family.
As I wandered those caves and rocky crags as the mechanist's people settled themselves in. I had entered deep into the mountain when one of the tunnels collapsed under me. I had fallen far too deep for anyone to reach me, and became lost in the heart of the mountain. I cursed my curiosity that had gotten me into this mess. I cursed what I had learned from the airbenders, as no doubt their vengeful ghosts had collapsed the tunnel. Then I cursed my own failure as a Dashimo, for being born without the gift, for if I was an earthbender, I could have easily freed myself.
I wandered lost within the utter blackness of those caves. My torch had extinguished and I had lost both it and my tinderbox during the fall. I must have been down there for weeks if not months looking for a way out. Eventually, I finally returned to the place I had fallen down from, which I only managed to find by tripping over my fallen torch.
My soul was filled with despair, as I was going to die honourless, forgotten and alone deep bellow the northern air temple. I tried to use the meditations that I had learned from my schooling as well as those of the airbenders to calm myself and clear my head. It was to no avail, and in the futile attempt something inside me snapped, although popped into place would be a better term when I look back on it, even though at the time it felt like the world had somehow been broken. I fell to my knees, my hands upon the ground and wailed like a madman.
It was horrifying, everything was closing in, and it felt like everything around me had turned to dry quicksand, and that I was going to sink deep into its depths. I remember thinking that this must be what claustrophobia was, as I flailed and screamed helplessly, horrified at how I could be lying upon something that seemed so insubstantial and not drown within its depths, but even more so wondering when the ceiling would fall, and bury me alive. It was then I felt it for the first time.
I remember feeling something remotely solid amongst the dissolving world around me, although perhaps solid is not the right word. It still had a malleable quality to it, almost like rubber, but well....I can't really describe it, and struggle to do so to this day. All I knew that I clenched unto it for dear life. When I moved, it moved and when I remained still so did it. It was smooth to the touch, and cold despite its strange texture. After I managed to gain some semblance of composure, I eventually I even opted to stand on it, as it was my island in the darkness.
I remember trying to calm myself, trying to convince myself I wasn't going crazy. I told myself, maybe the airbenders somehow used this place to meditate, or they had a way of drawing air from the rocks and I triggered something. None of it made sense, even though I suppose confused horror was an improvement from utter despair. Eventually I composed myself, and began searching for other such islands with my feet. I found no such thing, but even despite that, I was overcoming my horror with rationality. I began to put my weight upon the sand beyond my island, preparing to clutch onto it like a life preserver. It felt like I should have sunk into it, as a pebble in a bog but it remained steadfast. Even more puzzling was when I tried to grab at the ground; it was one solid piece even though it felt insubstantial.
It strikes me that my writing at this point may seem hard to follow. If it seems that way that is the intention. I had been thrown into an alien situation that may have pushed me to the edge of madness. If my description seems lacking it is because I cannot stress how bizarre the world had become, especially when you cannot see with your own eyes in utter blackness. Eventually, I took a leap of faith and stepped onto the dissolution that the world had become, and found myself standing upon it.
I did not feel comfortable with the feeling, as it felt at any moment whatever loophole in reality I had found would close itself, and I would plummet to my doom. Eventually I found other islands of stability, even some amongst the walls of this chamber of insubstantiality. As I said, these islands felt malleable, although were far more solid then my surroundings. They seemed to relent when I attempted to grab them, though so I experimented.
I trust my hand into it, it was cool and almost like pudding. I then clenched my fist, grabbing onto it from within. It was incredibly heavy, despite it's rubber like texture. Eventually I pulled at it with all of my might and wretched it from its home with a resounding clunk as it hit the ground, which shocked me as I had expected the sand like floor to muffle the sound. I didn't know what it was, I couldn't see it in the total darkness, and frankly I wanted my hand back so I released my grip and pulled out from it. I remember feeling some of it's residue on my hand that I shook off. When I did so, I had heard the familiar sound of coins dropping onto the ground.
I wouldn't have my epiphany for some time yet, so upon hearing the sound, I quickly scoured the cave for whatever had made that sound, now somewhat trusting that it was solid. I found them; they were circular discs of the strange material. They like whatever it was before, felt almost as liquid, but not. I dropped them several times, trying to discover what had happened, and they replied with the same resounding jingle. They kept their form admirably, even though my mind struggled with the concept of something so gelatine being able to hold form. I couldn't see it with my eyes, as I was lost in total darkness. Whatever it was, maybe it would be my ticket out of here.
I went back to the larger object, and cleared my head. I once more thrust my hand into it and drew its strange material into my hand. However, instead of shaking it off, I kept it in my hand slowly squeezing it and pulling it out with my other hand. I fashioned it into spike, even though it felt malleable in my hand, maybe I could use it to climb out of this place. I drew another spike out of the substance, and using a clod of the solid, sand-like ground, and used it to hammer the spike into the side of the walls, making sparks that hurt my eyes, that had fallen into disuse. It took my a while, and several spikes and attempts but I managed to climb back up to what I had hoped was the tunnel I fell into, although it was an insubstantial seeming as the rest of the world.
I ran towards what I thought was the light, tripping more then a few times, until eventually I was met by the setting of sun amongst the mountain peaks. I felt jubilation, at first but then as it dawned on me that the rock cliff I stood upon felt as insubstantial as the caverns. My mind reeled at the concept, and I blacked out waking up in one of the rooms in the air temple.
It took some time getting used to my new outlook on the world. The mechanist offered his aid, and we became friends. Eventually I led him to the place I fell, to figure out what had happened. When he ignited the torch in those abandoned cave, the understanding of what my gift was became clear. The islands which I had so feverishly clung were hundreds of deposits of Iron and Copper ore. More shocking was the face of the walls, where the massive deposits had hand markings upon them, as if someone had pulled a perfect chunk out of the ore itself. It was then; I walked up to them, and made them smooth when the understanding truly came. I possessed the gift of metalbending, something that was but a legend, even in the times of Avatar Kyoshi and unheard of in this modern day.
The old man was grateful for my discovering for the Iron would aid him in his inventions. I asked him that he swear to never tell a soul, and as far as I knew he kept that promise. I wanted to sort things out for myself, and he respected my wishes. He gave me one of his inventions. He called it a repeating bow, and he gave it in thanks for aiding them in their exodus from their village.
My men, who had received orders in my absence, had already departed for the front. I returned to my post, even despite the reports of my death. I was about to write home my discovery when I received orders to take leave and return home. I thought it was strange, but it would give me a chance to display my gift in person.
When I returned home, I was met with grief. My brother Yong had passed away at the front, doing battle with the fire nation. He had apparently died, whilst leading his men on a poorly strategized campaign, bringing shame to his name. I remember my mother weeping with joy when I arrived at our estate’s gates. At least one of her two sons had survived. My father on the other hand, while happy for my return but could not hide his despair. Yong’s was his pride and joy, and a credit to our house. He had hoped to leave the position of head of house to him. Now, all he had left was a rank and file sergeant who could not even bend. While he wanted to make sure the family would carry on, he was like a caged animal whose spirit had been broken. We all mourned for several weeks before we began to move on.
My parents wanted me to stay home and teach beginners history at one of the military academies. My uncle had an in there, and I could meekly continue the family line in safety that way. Perhaps they would have a chance at gaining grandchildren who could bend. It was a tempting offer, but years of training to be a soldier screamed against this menial position my parents wanted to thrust upon me. While they had love, for me it hurt me at how I was nothing more then a lost child to them, who needed to be coddled. What hurt me more was having my father look at me, and pretend I was the world to him when we both knew he did not view me as such. He thirsted for the honour as much as I, for his sons were destined to bring to the house, as he and his ancestors before. Such is the way of all of house Dashimo. However, fate had forced him into accepting that a B grade history teacher was all they could have me be. He had once preached death before dishonour, but the words held little meaning to him now.
It was sorely tempting to tell them of the discovery of my bending powers, but I was too overcome with grief at my brother's death when I first arrived and then too filled with shame at how my parents viewed me after I had accepted the news. I simply couldn't tell them, for I knew if I did, they would cast me as the saviour of our family, for all the wrong reasons. To them, despite all that had happened, the ability to bend, was the only thing that made a success in their eyes and it both angered and depressed me.
I turned to the only man I knew I could trust, my Uncle Zhoh. He said he could get me a job at the academy if I wished it, but that he doubted that was why I was here. I had always sought to prove myself worthy of my name, and he knew I did not want to waste away behind these walls as he had. He told me to accept it, as a general must know when fight and when to become elusive. I told him, that I felt it was time to fight and for me to return to the front. He scoffed at me and said that a warrior must know not only his enemy, but his own limitations. I said I wasn’t as “limited” as I once was. He said that if I could not show an old fool as he and make him believe it was for naught. I would, but I made him swear that he did tell a soul.
He seemed intrigued and went along with it, thinking it was some foolish child’s game. It was then I grabbed one of his swords, and using my power, bent it into a perfect circle. He seemed shocked and told me that metalbending was but a myth and that with training I could no doubt become just what my parents desired. I told him could not do such a thing. I wanted them to understand it was not bending that made me their son, it was who I was and the honour of my spirit that was important.
He couldn’t respond to that, and frowned, for he knew there was truth in my words. He responded to me by saying he had already given his word so he was at a loss, but that it wasn't worthy of a good son to lie to them in their time of weakness. I told him, I would tell them, after I had their respect and that it wasn’t worthy of them to cast us both aside for all these years. He stroked his beard, and turned to his forge, and began hammering at the steel. He said that if I were to do this, I would need the right training and tools, and to get started. Thus, I gave my father the ok to pull his strings into my uncle's academy as that history teacher.
My uncle and I spent three years preparing, both in his forge and at the academy. The cushy job of a history teacher was boring and tried my patience but left me with plenty of spare time. Young children are easily amazed as they stood in awe to my “cool scars” and occasional display of a combat technique. Thus during class, I would study our academy’s library worth of military strategy, history but I also studied alchemy, as I felt it’s used could aid in my knowledge of bending. Every morning, just before the older cadets were starting their morning drills, in the evening after they had finished supper. I would beat them to the stations, putting myself into a gruelling regimen of physical training. The drill instructors loved it, for they told their students that, my examples were what to be expected, much to the dread of the cadets.
When I couldn't train my body, I trained my mind, devoting time to hone my techniques and meditations, in the privacy of my uncle’s basement. The academy gave me the chance to learn from the finest warriors and benders that the earth kingdom could offer, as many veterans would make visits. As a cadet I could only benefited from maybe one such experience, in my senior year but as an instructor, it gave me ample chances to learn. I was always learning and bettering myself, soaking knowledge and technique like a sponge.
Almost every day though, I went to my Uncle Zhoh's forge. He was always an average smith, but with me at his side things were different. My ability to metal bend matured in that forge as I felt the steel and began to understand how it reacted to different metals and stresses. My uncle's smithing improved by leaps and bounds, as did my bending. The forge was the perfect place to gain an understanding of metal and steel, and my bending allowed for him to gain wisdom that no smith could ever discover on his own. I could extract the impurities out metal, and would understand which substances were key to developing new and better alloys. In our testing, I even learned of how to sense metal at a distance, although I’ve never attempted to bend for that far, so I’m not sure if I could do it without physical contact.
We made many different types of steel, and many creations. I even sent some of our mixtures to the mechanist. He seemed appreciative for them, being a tinker himself. Our first task was finding a way to level the playing field against firebenders. The first weapon we made was a flail, whose chain links would withstand even the greatest of heat. This would allow me to strike at firebenders at a distance, even from behind cover and make it difficult for them to dodge. However, it is my least favourite weapon as the chain links are too heavy, making it hard to control when close to my allies.
The lessons we learned making it though, led us to the amazing heat resistance of ceramic, of which we used as a basis for my armour. Heavy armour has always been effective against standard troops, but was abandoned long ago as it fares so poorly against benders. The lack of mobility was too often an unworthy trade-off, especially against firebenders, who would cook troops in their own armour.
That didn’t deter us, as we made a suit of spring like alloy that would draw heat into a set of special ceramic scales that were braced under the armour, still allowing for decent mobility. Granted the armour was much less effective from strike with a sword, spear or axe. I would have to rely on my superior technique to protect me in that regard. The benefit though, was its ceramic scales would absorb and shed heat making it the perfect armour against fire benders. As an added bonus, it fared excellent against arrows and bolts as the ceramic scales would crack and seem to dissipate the impact.
Our next project was to be a blade that would never break or rust. Earthbenders can do a number on a sword or spear, easily breaking it and water and firebenders can warp a blade with enough heat or lack thereof. I wanted something that could fall back on in case of disaster. That and I wanted to learn more of how to work with steel before we crafted my own preferred weapon. The key to a good sword is that its exterior must be unyielding, but its core needs to be flexible. Most smiths typically use clay to produce this effect, but my ability allowed me to keep the softer metal at the core of the blade, and harder metal at the edge, and blend them seamlessly made for something far beyond that most smiths. The only downside is that my blade is too flexible, meaning the edges dulls far too easily when met with steel and as combat progresses, and becomes less likely to deal a killing blow. It still makes for a superb parrying aid. The blade itself is unbreakable as we even tried to break it over my uncle’s anvil to no avail.
Learning from our past work, we set upon the task to craft my preferred weapon, a ji or halberd that some people have come to call it. I had always been a horseman, as mobility and reach are amongst the greatest keys of combat so the use of the most versatile of pole weapons was the obvious choice. Thus in our last year, we crafted the great halberd “Yueyamo” which roughly translates to “Moon Demon” in the old tongue.
The steel alloy core beneath its willow and cork shaft, allows for it to handle incredible stresses far beyond anything I know of, as well as keep it perfectly balanced. The thorn on its backside is excellent for ripping open even heavy tank armour like a can opener or pulling men from their mounts. Its spearhead, possesses an edge so sharp it can cleave spider’s silk upon the wind, and pierce glass without breaking or cracking it. Last, its crescent blade while not particularly sharp is the greatest quality of the weapon. It’s beyond diamond like hardness can bludgeon to death a man in heavy armour, or leave him with cracked bones that take him out of combat and hopefully back to his family. It also makes it hard to parry against, as even the sharpest of weapons that fail to dig into its edge, requiring an iron grip to hold onto them. However, its true purpose is that it is designed to cleave the insubstantial. This allows me to carry the wind, as it whistles with every sweeping strike. As such, it can parry the blasts of elemental fury that benders use.
With these weapons, and a good mount, I would be perfectly equipped to deal with any threat the fire nation would be able to throw at me. You might still be asking yourself how someone who doesn’t utilize bending could stand a hope at victory. Allow me to take some time to explain, exactly how important my equipment is, that way you can grasp my tactics more fully.
When you engage a firebender at a distance, he will simply cook you with burst after burst of flame. His offence is so relentless it’s hard to defend yourself from it, even if you have a strong enough shield or the ability to bend. Thus you are left dodging, praying you can close the distance on him, while he uses his mobility to thwart you. Since so you are so far away from him, you can’t engage him and exploit the lack of defence the style has.
Stones from a sling work tolerably if you can aim them well, but they are useless against even light leather armour which some will wear. That and they don’t really do much damage or have stopping power. Standard arrows from a bow, don’t work, because they require the shaft to move effectively through the air, and that will simply be consumed by his barrage of flame. A steel crossbow bolt will work, as few firebenders possess the power to melt the bolt before it hits them.
However even that is foolhardy, as most crossbows only fire once, and take an unacceptably long time to reload. Thus if you miss, not only will he be looking for you to shoot him if you manage to find cover, his overwhelming offence will make reloading all but impossible. That and even if you hit him, the time you took to aim that shot may have given him the chance to fry you with one last fireball.
This is why the mechanist’s repeating bow is such a good weapon, as it doesn’t need to reload. Granted it doesn’t have the penetration of a standard bow, making it all but useless against heavy armour or shields. Firebenders however, seldom wear heavy armour because their style has so little defence to properly utilize it, and a shield hampers too many of the movements they need to perform. A few take up swordsmanship try and combat this weakness, but they are few and far between. Most rely on dodging and mobility, mainly because most earthbenders would simply keep hurling boulders at them if they weren’t able to dodge like a flickering candle. Being able to simply spray bolts in their general area is a great way at beating them at their own distance game.
So, given that repeating bows are rare weapons and other ranged attacks are useless unless you can bend, this may lead you to the conclusion that you need to close the distance. That conclusion is correct, but it’s hard to do so without somehow enduring a few flame strikes. Unless you can parry them with bending or are quicker then lightening, you are going to suffer, hence my need for specialized armour and weaponry.
However, even if you close the distance, the problem becomes, if you get too close, you are almost worse off. Firebenders know that steel absorbs and conducts heat, and thus they strike at your sword blade if you get too close, heating the steel and forcing you to drop it. If you come at them with an axe, they can’t do that because the hardwood shaft doesn’t absorb heat, fast enough. Unfortunately, that’s when they simply set the area around them on fire, knowing they can bathe in their flames and you can’t. This forces you to withdraw, giving them a chance to either attack again or make distance, so they can continue their ranged assault.
A whip also works well in this regard as you can use it at a range, and its unpredictable swing makes dodging difficult. However, a leather whip will just get dissolved, when exposed to fire. A flail made of chain links and a small steel ball is another story. The links will heat but the shaft won’t. Unless he can target the individual links and break the flail, he’s at a loss. This is why my flail uses such a resilient material, for as we all know a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. I don’t like using the flail though, as it’s not very effective against troops who have even moderate armour and it is very hard to control. You can easily crack one of your men’s skulls by accident if you’re not careful.
A polearm though, has reach, which means they can’t simply set the area on fire because you still have room to dodge and move at that distance. Thus you are able to counter and exploit his lack of defence. In addition, while the steel head of the pole will heat, it will contain it and not transmit that heat to the hardwood shaft. You need only look at how redwoods, oaks and willows still remain standing after vicious forest fires. Thus he can’t make you drop your weapon by heating the metal. This is all apart from the other numerous advantages, the polearm brings against mundane troops, especially from horseback. I hope that gives you something of an insight as to the importance of tactics, intelligence and bringing the right equipment to the right battle, and just how helpless even I would be without it.
Regardless, word about my uncle’s creations eventually leaked throughout the academy, and later after I had left, throughout the kingdom. It started when I began wearing the sword he gave me, people demanded to see it. Everything else was kept in strict secrecy, because I could not let my parents know of what we were doing. Besides, my bending greatly sped up the work needed to forge his weapons. Under normal circumstances, my sword alone would have taken a year to craft, so it wasn’t even conceived he might have been working on something else during that time. A parrying weapon wasn’t completely beyond reason as a smith to give to a close relative.
My uncle developed a reputation as one of the greatest smiths, alive and orders lined up for his work. He had managed, with the secret aid of my metalbending to regain his honour, in a unique way. This pleased my parents, of course, although they wondered about how he came about his sudden insight into the nature of steel. Of course, an old man’s skill at a craft was not the hope of carrying military excellence, through to the next generation.
Uncle Zhoh was always a wise one that is for sure. He had no use for wealth, and so he forged weapons at cost (which usually was high but not prohibitively so) in exchange for favours amongst those who requested his work. None however were as good as what we made together, as without my insight or my final touch to delicately adjust the interior of the steel perfectly. What he could make though, far surpassed the work of his peers. This aided us both, for when I made my cloak and dagger return to the service.
Eventually, everything fell into place. Years of work had paid off and I finally prepared. I resigned my post at the academy and reenlisted almost overnight. My uncle pulled strings to get me assigned to the worst of the combat. Years of working as a quartermaster, made my uncle extremely skilled at rushing and burying requests through the military bureaucracy. He said he would keep my parents busy until it was already part of the campaign, and too late to recall. He said he had friends that he had made playing Pai Cho over the years who would make sure that any such orders did come down the chain, they’d be lost. Backed by the favours my uncle earned at his forge, he silently hamstrung the efforts of my parents to have me recalled.
While my parents had their hands tied behind their back, much to their outrage. The letters they wrote to me personally were less then flattering and filled with worry, demanding I return home. I suppose I should have gone to them personally and proclaimed my return to the military, but I worried if they knew they would be able to muster enough political clout to prevent my exodus.
I did write back to them, saying I would no longer live as a caged lion, eating the scraps that were cast to me and that this was something I had to do. I told them not to worry, as I would prove myself as a worthy successor to our name. They threatened to disown me, but I knew that it was a bluff. To do so at this time would only make them seem unable to control their own, incredibly small house affairs, furthering their shame. Besides, even if they did it didn’t matter. I would bring honour to my name, and that of my house even if they did. Eventually they stopped writing, which I'm not sure either good or bad at the time. I hope because their hands were tied, or my uncle spoke and made them believe in me.
And thus, that is the story of how I found my new home upon the lines, much to the chagrin of the fire nation. I've fought countless battles out here, and have been if not the victor then the savior in many of them. My commanders consider me reckless, but they stand in awe of my martial prowess, ability to inspire and grasp of tactics that has allowed me to beat many troops and firebenders with little difficulty. They know my skill and ability, and reassign me constantly to thick of the fighting. I have ordered the retreat when needed, and used cunning strategy to win many battles. My education and style continues to adapt as I try to absorb and learn from both my friends and foes and my mistakes and successes. I continue to work my way up through the ranks. I was a Sergeant when I ended my first tour and now I hold the rank of Captain, going on Major.
I've heard what they call me in the taverns and it is good they tell my tale, for I want it to reach home. They call me the Whirlwind of Steel for when I go into battle I am a center of calm amongst a storm of carnage, and that my style seems to emulate the movements of the ancient airbenders. My mother has begun writing to me again, she shows concern and begs me to be careful, but she now believes in me and that fills me with pride. Perhaps one day I will win my father’s praise as well.
I had heard the soldiers of the fire nation call me the Hungry Wind Ghost. That I am the vengeful dead spirit, of an airbender raised from beyond the grave. The airbenders were not a vengeful people, and their ignorance speaks volumes so I opted to use it against them. I painted the streak of broken, blue arrow on my helmet as to terrify them more. I would rather they flee or throw down their arms then fight, for supreme excellence is breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting. When they see the halberd "Yueyamo" they cannot help but worry, which only aids my cause.
I fight to bring and end to this war with courage and honour. It has costed so many lives, and it will cost many more, but it is a war that must be fought. The men Earth Kingdom have come to know once again, that when they see the lion-raven banner of house Dashimo, they know that victory near always strides with them. I do not think that there is anything in this could please me more, save the world being a perfect sanctuary of peace that the ancient airbenders once tried to realize.