August 20th, 2002
Fargar: The Story of an Alcordian Knight - By Milekan
"Where am I?"
"Get up, soldier! Get UP!"
"I think I'm injured, Sir. My head hurts so bad."
"You're just a bit stunned, you'll be fine. You took quite a blow.
Lucky for you these flimsy helmets work at least a little."
"What do I do now, Sir?"
"You're on body detail."
"Go with him to search all the corpses, look for living and the dead.
Any information you can find."
"Hey, HEY! This man's still breathing! We've got to help him!"
"Forget it, he's the enemy, and nobody we can use for our advantage.
"But he's alive! We can't just kill him! He needs our help!"
"Look, he's just another soldier like the rest of us. Do him a favor
and put him out of his misery. If you don't, I will."
"Don't worry, I'll help you. Can you sit up? Here, drink this...."
"Hey! Why did you kill him! We could have saved that guy!"
"He's your enemy, and you're his enemy. If I hadn't he would've killed
you. See that dagger he was hiding in his left hand? You could've been
as dead as he is right now."
"But...I was...how did he hide..."
"Don't let your emotions control you, that's how you end up dead..."
"Fargar!" someone said in a whisper. "Fargar! Wake up! You're on
guard." The dream started to fade.
Ugggghhhh, I'm so tired...who's talking?
Waking quickly, Fargar jumped to a kneeling position and swung his
longsword. The man leapt back to protect himself, but was nicked by the tip
of the weapon.
"Hey! Relax! Its just me, Guarid!" the man said anxiously, as he
unconsciously checked his thigh, finding only a small trickle of blood.
Fargar came fully to his senses and quickly sheathed his sword before coming
to Guarid's aid.
Man! I've got to watch what I'm doing! I could've hurt him a lot worse
Guarid said with a weak smile, "You're too good but I'm fine, just a
small scratch, see? I'm dead tired though, and it's your turn to take
Nodding slightly, Fargar squinted through the fading darkness and
prepared his equipment while ignoring his aches. Before slipping on his
boots, he examined the bottom of his left foot, and cringed at the sight.
Large blisters and open sores covered the entire ball of his foot. Not
wanting to see the other, he slowly and painfully pulled on his boots.
"You should see a cleric about those, they're getting really nasty,"
suggested Guarid, not really giving them much attention as he removed his
I know they're bad, but what can I do about it? I can't just take time
off for something as unimportant as this.
Limping toward a group of soldiers, Fargar finished fastening the
buckles on his equipment. Straightening up to disguise the grimace on his
face, he strode in agony toward another soldier who was scanning the
immediate area intently.
"Fargar reporting, Sir," he said as he snapped a salute.
Noting his stature the captain said, "You're looking a little rough
soldier. Not planning on falling asleep, are you?"
"No Sir. Perfectly fit, Sir," Fargar replied automatically.
"Good, that's what I want to hear. Your left and right flanks are
marked by those banners out there."
"Yes Sir," Fargar acknowledged as he noted the banners casually.
"If you see less than two people, kill them. If you see three or more,
sound the alarm. Got me?" the captain asked, looking sharply into
Fargar's eyes. A nod satisfied him.
How many times do I have to hear this speech?
With a slight grin, the officer added, "This is Dilorf, he'll be on
guard with you. He's fresh out of training, so clue him in on what they
don't teach in that Palace they call Training Field."
"Yes Sir," Fargar repeated as he saluted again, glancing at the
Of all the luck , I get stuck with the new recruit.
"So how do you like it?" Dilorf asked with a gleam of enthusiasm in his
"How do I like what?" Fargar countered without interest, glancing at
"Well, you know, battle...I can't wait for my chance to get at one of
those guys! With all that training I got, they told me I could take on
three at once!" Dilorf said with excitement, parrying and slashing at an
"The first thing you'll learn: Nothing, and I mean nothing, ever goes
the way you think."
This kid doesn't know anything.....lucky him.
A little hurt, but not content, Dilorf continued with his barrage of
comments and questions about combat. Fargar ignored them pointedly for a
while and the subject changed.
"So where you from, kid?" Fargar asked without much real interest.
"I was born and raised in Alcordia. I have a girl over there, her name
is Saria...someday I'm going to marry her... She helps with the war
effort too, ya know? She works in a blacksmith, making all this great
equipment!" Dilorf said with enthusiasm, gripping his sword.
Pointing at Dilorf's longsword, Fargar told him, "That thing is only as
good as its user. That's another thing you need to learn. Upkeep on
your gear is really important. I had a dagger snap in half right in the
middle of a battle before, almost cost me my life." He paused, thinking
back on the occasion.
I wish I could forget...forget everything...
"So what's it like? You know, to kill someone?" Dilorf eventually
"For Freedom and your homeland! Chaaaaaarrrrrrggggeeeee!"
"Die you evil bloodsuckers!"
"No! NO! I give up! I give up! AAAAAHHHH!...."
"What have I done? What have I done?"
"Are you OK, young man?"
"I'm fine, but...I feel...different..."
"Oh? OH!...Don't worry kid, it'll get easier...hopefully..."
Fargar shuddered slightly, then glanced at Dilorf to see if he had
noticed the momentary distraction. The lad's expression suggested that he
was more interested in hearing the tale than any deeper thoughts. "You
don't want to know. And when you do find out, you'll wish that you
hadn't..." Fargar told him with a grimace.
Totally caught off guard by his answer, Dilorf turned his head away,
only to catch a glimpse of something rustling in the bushes off in the
distance. "Hey? What's that?...It's the enemy! They're trying to sneak
in!" the recruit said as he broke into a sprint towards that area.
"Wait. Wait! Damn!" Fargar cursed as he chased after him.
Running as fast as he could, Fargar tried to close desperately with the
recruit, grimacing in pain from his injured feet with every stride.
Before he could reach out to grab the lad's shoulder, however, Dilorf
tumbled forward, crashing painfully to the ground. Two men leapt from a
bush and hurtled toward the lad, knocking him back to the ground and began
to slash wildly. Quickly drawing his longsword, Fargar dove at the
nearest man and bowled him over.
Here it comes. That...that...feeling.... Everything feels so slow.
In one deadly move he jumped to a kneeling position and impaled the
enemy, killing him almost instantly. Leaping to his feet, he saw Dilorf
crawling backwards, trying desperately to fend off his highly skilled
attacker. Rushing to the recruit's aid, Fargar charged into the other man,
knocking him off his feet and relieving his colleague.
"Help me!" Fargar screamed loudly as he glanced back at Dilorf, who was
stunned at the scene in front of him. Unable to come to his senses the
lad quivered on the ground, his face a mask of horror.
Fargar avoided being tripped, and sent a kick to his assailant's solar
plexus, knocking the wind out of him. The enemy fell to his knees,
gasping for breath. Fargar quickly leaned back and kicked dirt at Dilorf,
bringing him back to his senses.
Suddenly the recruit was back on his feet and leaping for the enemy
with a crazed and vengeful look on his bleeding face. His weapon came down
directly on the enemy's shoulder. The man's attention was on Fargar and
he failed to block the attack, slumping to the ground in mortal agony
as the blow landed home.
Dilorf looked down at his attacker, his face softening as quickly as it
had hardened. Looking his enemy directly in his eyes, he noticed that
the man's lips parted slightly and the dying man muttered something.
Barely able to hear the words, the recruit looked at his lips to try to
understand. His assailant became limp and breathed his last breath.
Weakly standing up Dilorf shivered uncontrollably. He turned to Fargar
and feebly said, "He said something."
"What? What did he say?" Fargar asked quickly, dreading the answer.
"He...he said...I love you, Karla..."
Why? Why does it have to be like this? Why do the innocent have to
"Don't worry kid, it'll get easier...hopefully..."
FRONT PAGE |
MEDIEVIA HOME PAGE
Copyright (c) 1992-2018 Medievia.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved
Mudslinger is a trademark (Tm) of Medievia.com, Inc.
No portion of the MudSlinger may be reproduced without the express written consent of Medievia.com, Inc.