It was an old tattered thing, nothing more than a span of linen with a star painted haphazardly on the cloth it was red and blue with white bordering the single symbol of the star in the center... 'Not too shabby if'n I do say so myself...' the farmer smiled faintly as he looked at the plain cloth in his hands before draping it over his broad shoulders, Clive hadn't slept nor rested all through the night too fearful of having the nightmares again when all had gone to rest he had been sitting alone in the darkness of his room head in hands thinking, endlessly...
Clive’s eyes were heavy with fatigue, dark circles forming beneath them—a stark reminder that he hadn’t slept in days now. He had experienced death not once but twice, the weight of those memories lingering like a shadow over his heart. Resurrected in what felt like an eternity for him but what was all but days, he still felt the cold echoes of his life, and it troubled him.
Yet, he forced a smile as he gazed at his recruits, feeling a flicker of warmth amid the unease but still the heavy weight on his heart he put on a brave face - like he'd been doing since even the very beginning and unveiled the shabby banner, the simple cloth that was frayed and tattered at the edges "
Heh, we're true rangers now lone star and all..." Clive mused out loud voice steady despite carrying the weight of exhaustion upon his shoulders "
And just like the one's back home we're gonna fight for what's right."
"
First things first," he said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his tired bones calling upon what energy he had, “
You gotta learn to ride a horse. If we’re gonna charge into battle, you’ll need to stay on top.” the shimmer of the ghostly apparition flickered as the spirit of his horse appeared drawn from somewhere past where the naked eye could see, the peasants awed gasps and whispers unfazed the weathered and tired farmer but when laughter erupted as he swung into the saddle of a sturdy mare Clive faintly smirked the southerners tired bones despite the years of farming experience instilled in him. Still needed to handle the spirited beast yet the energy to do so felt drawn out.
"
Alright you lot, show me how ya'll mount a horse then?" silence fell when he spoke in a firm voice, he spoke in a less relaxed tone though still not all there but he tried to compose himself a bit he hadn't ever really spoke like that for a long time but a voice piped up from his lot "
Ya think ridins' hard eh? Try swinging a hammer all day!" the voice belonged to the daughter of the local merchant one that Clive could not for the life of him remember least of all in the state he was in but the voice belonged to Mara, a fiery red-head who fancied herself a smith.
Though initially he snapped he felt slightly more at ease letting out a brief chuckle trying to smile, though it didn’t quite reach his weary eyes "
Well now I reckon both them skills are pretty useful in a fight." he himself only knew the way of the land, and maybe a bit about firing a gun but there wasn't no rifles in these parts nor would plowing a field teach these people anything useful to fight, but he knew they weren't unskilled they had their own practical experiences so he played to their own skills those that had no experience with a blade and those who did would show others how to hone such skills.