Who is the Calontir Army?
. This story shall the good man teach his son;
. And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
. From this day to the ending of the world,
. But we in it shall be remembered-
. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers…
I can personally guarantee that every last detail in these stories is true – at least some of them… sort of… more or less…
Dedication
. For the Queens who have inspired us
. For the Kings that have lead us,
. For the friends who have joined us,
. And for those that have only wished that they could…
WHO IS THE CALONTIR ARMY?
By Conde Fernando Rodriguez de Falcon
Who is the Calontir Army?
There is no simple answer for such a question. There is no Grand Roster we can check for "inclusion," and no device for measuring "armyness." You can't open Merriam Webster and look under "Calontir, Army of."
The best you can do is go and see for yourself - or more importantly feel for yourself.
What is the Calontir Army?
It's the old Huscarl out for his 75th war in his faded purple tabard...
It's the novice fighter in mismatched or borrowed armor, who puts on a Falcon tabard with awe for the first time...
It's his wife or friend back home who finished that tabard for him the night before he left for war...
It's the Fyrdman at the pizza place after meeting who convinced him that he "just had to go" to the war to be part of Calontir...
It's the waterbearer with their Fourth Company marking who drags a pair of eight pound bottles across the field 100 times with nothing more than a smile as thanks...
It's the lady who worked for weeks before the war making jerky or fighter biscuits, despite being unable to take off work for the war herself...
It's those who worked hard in years past to make Calontir what it is, but who can't be with us at that particular War...
It's the musicians who play by our side while we muster, or march, or even resurrect...
It's the Calontir archer who gathers himself each morning and walks to a shadeless field to shoot for their Crown...
It's the young child who stands at the edge of our camp by his mother's side and claps when the army marches by...
It's the broken fighter who comes to war knowing all he can do is help marshal, whose heart will soar with pride, and break with longing as he watches the Falcon banner march past the inspection point...
It's the guy stuck at work who watches the Calon list - looking for any snippet of information on how his kingdom fought or played...
It's the lady who stays in camp stirring a pot of hot soup, remembering with pride the Falcon's Heart the Soup Kitchen earned with their labors...
It's the lord who drives the truck full of armor and weapons so the fighters can march with a lighter load...
It's the spouse who just smiles and puts up with being abandoned for most of the day while their fighting partner heads out the field...
It's the lady who leaves a class early at the war to be back in the royal pavilion to hear the stories...
And more...
It's the folks who laugh with us, fight with us, lounge with us, sing with us, or just smile when they see or hear of us, and who feel like part of us...
That's the Falcon Host.
That's the Calontir Army.
That is Calontir!