Slightly Historical Individual Tales

Frothwolf, Guardian and Master of Union

I am not of this world. I came from a world much different from this one. The kingdom of my birth was a place of beauty, in both its lands and its people. Majestic mountains, stunning waterfalls, clear streams and green fields. Wine that would make the God Bacchus weep and women that could weaken the strongest man's knees. It was the latter two that brought me to this living hell.

Like most second sons, I longed to leave the farm. On my twenty-first birthday I bid farewell to my famly, met my friends in the village and began the trek to the capital. None could ask for a better group of companions. There was Deaucalion an aspiring warrior, who had worked spear and sword from the moment she could lift them. Her younger sister, Desere, a lover of nature with a small talent for magic. Vampyric, a follower of the gothic style, a fierce fighter, his sister Arioch who's piety was in sharp contrast to her darker brother; edged weapons were her forte. Laralia, who's red hair and short temper made her someone you would want at your back in a fight. Anoyus, another gothic follower and great friend to us all. Edog a studious and serious fellow. And finally, Brey a skilled warrior with an endless capacity for fun, whether at others expence or his own.

Our land sits in the V of two giant mountain ranges, with narrow passes through each range and the ocean at our back. Our wealth makes our neighbors on either side envious of us. We have been at war with one or both of them as long as anyone could remember. Due to this constant state of war, the army, in its wisdom allows friends and relatives to stay together in squads, promoting unit cohesion. We were delighted that we would be able to remain together. Unfortunately, there was a dark cloud, our master sergeant.

It would be hard to find a more evil man if you spent ten years searching. Our first day was spent in shield drill, learning how to turn an enemy's shield with your own, allowing your companions on either side to stab or slash him. Our sergeant wasn't interested in teaching, he was more interested in inflicting pain. After injuring a dozen or more recruits it was time for the man in front of me to move forward. Edog strode forward, was dashed to the ground and the sergeant slammed the edge of his shield across edog's shins snapping both bones. I saw red. After Edog was taken to the healers, it was my turn. I was ready for his tricks. When he charged me, I braced my legs in a crouch and angled my shield's top edge toward the middle of his shield. The screech of steel filled the air as my shield slid towards the top of his, pushing it back into his chest. The top of my shield slammed into his chin and I pushed with all my might. He flew in the air, landing on his back. I slammed the edge of my shield into his shins and heard a satisfying double crack as both his shins were broken. This brought a roar of laughter and jeers from my friends and stunned silence from the rest of the recruits.

The captain, standing near by, rushed over and screamed at me demanding to know if I was proud of what I had done to the sergeant. I smirked and told him my only regret was that the shield wasn't larger. Turning to his aid, he told him to retrieve the giant ceremonial shield above the armoury's door. The damn thing was huge! Two soldiers struggled over to us carrying the shield. The captain told me to pick it up. I groaned, every muscle in my body trembling as I raised it. The captain looked shocked, but was not about to back down. Very well, he said you will carry that shield from now on and lead the first wedge in every battle.

The next 3 months were a living hell, but I refused to give up and the shield became a part of me. During our training, my friends had their own crosses to bear, (so to speak) but each made me proud and handled their various predicaments in their own unique ways. During that 3 months of sweat, pain and blood, there was one bright spot in my days. The fire-mage Blaize. She took my breath away. Her other-worldly gray skin, her unmatched beauty and her grace caused me more than one injury through distraction. She is the last woman I will ever see.

It was a night of celebration when we completed our training. The next day, we marched to the western mountains to repel invasion. My friends and I were able to get a table in one of the many inns in the capital. Not an easy feat considering there were 10,000 troops in the capital. My quite drinking aroused the curiosity of my friends. I reluctantly told them that my only regret was that I was unable to tell Blaize how I felt before we marched. With more wine came a bold plan. I would climb to her castle balcony and pour out my heart. My friends insisted on helping.

It was slightly before midnight when we arrived at the castle. We had no trouble approaching the walls since the majority of the army was camped around the castle. A line of privies next to the south wall made the area nearly deserted except for those in need of their services. Picking an outhouse in the corner of 2 walls, I began my climb. I knew her balcony was 4 stories up, near the middle and, there was a light on.

Trying to clear my head of the wine fumes was useless, so I threw caution to the winds and weaved my way along the ledge to the shouted encouragement of my friends. I climbed the 1st balcony and pulled myself up to the next ledge. I repeated this until I was under Blaize's balcony. I slowly pulled myself up until I could see through the railings. My God, she was undressing. A more jaded man would have stopped and enjoyed the view, but I was young and in love. I did not want to embarrass her. Hoping to prevent the disrobing, I shouted her name and began climbing over the railing.

How many things did I do wrong? Conceived the plan in a blear of wine, certainly. Startled her with a shout, yes. Became a dark shadow climbing into her room, definately. But worst of all, I did not consider how a fire-mage would react to such an intrusion.

I was in no position to react, arms locked and braced on the railing head leaning forward. The fire daggers flew true, one from each of her hands took my eyes. I don't remember the fall. I don't remember the privy roof and the master sergeant inside breaking my fall.I did not feel the bruising from my landing. I did not smell the filth that covered me. I did not feel the kicks from the sergeant. I did not hear my friends beat the sergeant to death. Through the all-consuming fire in my eyes, all I heard was my own voice screaming I'M BLIND!!!

End of Part 1