Domingo Family/Sanchez/Sanchez's Dream

"Sanchez! Sanchez! Sanchez!" The words reverberated through his body as Sanchez sat atop his grey charger, sword in hand. Behind him, the throng of armor plated warriors and nobles of Talerium were arrayed in battle formation, and they were chanting his name. He took a moment to bask in the glow of the moment. The bright sun was shining on him. His sword Sweeping Death was at his side, he was mounted on his trusty steed Epona and behind him was the greatest host ever seen on the face of Atamara. The Gods themselves rode with Sanchez that day!

"Sanchez! Sanchez!" He took in the chanting for a moment longer. Then slowly and dramatically, he raised his hand to get the attention of his army.

They were his to command, and were absolutely devoted to him. So, he was mildly surprised when the chanting did not cease. Perhaps they hadn't seen his gesture. He raised his hand again, a little higher this time.

"Sanchez! Sanchez!"

Bloody fools! Yes, he was the great war-lord Sanchez. Of course he was going to lead them to victory over the hated Darkans, of this there was no doubt. But first a rousing speech! That is if only they'd shut their bloody mouths!

He started waving emphatically at them with his free hand. Yet, the chanting continued.

"Sanchez! Sanchez!"

Trying to make himself more visible, Sanchez half stood on his horse. He was now gesticulating wildly at the army. He had something important to say, and by the Nine Hells they'd listen!

Unfortunately, his wild waving had unsettled Epona, and his trusted steed began bucking, trying desperately to get the half-crazed man off her back.

"Sanchez! Sanchez!"

"Imbeciles!" he thought, as he tried desperately to control his mount. However, on this day Epona would have the best of him. The horse gave one last strong kick, dislodging Sanchez and sending him through the air. As he came down to ground flailing madly, his head struck a rock, sending him from consciousness to..

...

Consciousness.

"Sanchez! Sanchez! Lord Sanchez, will you please wake up!" A pleading voice was yelling in Sanchez's ear, and he was sure the owner of that voice was somehow connected to the violent shaking his body was experiencing.

Wiping a spot of drool from the corner of his mouth, he tried to gather his senses. Opening one bleary eye, he took in the somewhat hazy figure before him, which bore a striking resemblance to his scribe.

Groggily, Sanchez slurred out a question "What is it man? I'm trying to sleep - and I was having a most-excellent dream"

The scribe’s voice was filled with relief as he had finally accomplished his task. "My Lord, a large army has been spotted in Nazamroth. They're marching west!"

At that news, Sanchez began to gather himself. "Ah yes, and they need their leader. Right you are! Bring me Sweeping Death and Epona"!

The poor scribe, having no idea what his master was babbling about, continued "My Lord, it’s a Norish army, with a small contingent of Barony troops. We don't have much time, you have to get moving!"

Slightly puzzled himself, Sanchez propped himself up out of his bed. "Norish? Hmm, not what I expected, but even they must recognize the evil of Darka. By the Gods I'll lead them to glory I will!"

Trying to keep his mouth from dropping open, the scribe took in his master. He couldn't smell any spirits on Sanchez's breath, but..

"My lord, are you feeling alright? Perhaps you are no longer used to the desert heat? Should I fetch the doctor?"

"No, I don't need a doctor - only my sword and my horse!"

The scribe nodded enthusiastically "Yes milord, that is more like it. Although I doubt they will divert to Eagle's Glen, by sunset they will likely be in Cantril. I'm not sure if they will remain there, or move on to Axtli"

Getting more confused by the moment, Sanchez questioned the scribe. "Axtli? But that is not on the way to Izzal"

The scribe, finally having enough, let loose. "Izzal?! You buffoon, they are coming for us, not the cursed Darkans! Now get up! Or don't! I don't care anymore! I don't get paid enough to endure this; I'm heading back to the coast!"

As the scribe stormed out of Sanchez's command tent, the gravity of the situation dawned on him. He thought back to the unit he had recently released as militia.

"Oh. Well. Hmm. I wish I still had those archers."