Wonderland, I'm afraid Sir NutCracker doesn't wander among us anymore. He made the mistake to underestimate some Sisters of the Light. On account of them being women. Well, may he rest in peace, that old psychopath.
But there are still other people wandering Calradia to uphold the banner of true virtue!
Hail, Osgotir!
But let the man speak for himself.
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Dear Ladies and Gentlemen of the Archives of Calradia,
I hope this dispatch reaches you in good health.
Osgotir is my name and in the case of my demise I'd be pleased to know that my life's work will be remembered for posterity's sake.
This is the first part of my new life's story.
THE PAST
It had been a stormy day when the Swadians decided to take their stronghold back. The stronghold that had been payed for with Onyx blood. Lots of it at that. My fellow brothers had been manning the defense: we had archers behind the crennelations and lots of brave templars manning the walls and the keep. Many a recent recruit had been busy emptying his bowels. Heck, even I had felt the need to take a piss. It's always the same with me before a fight.
The most honoured elder brother had me holding a reassuring speech to the troops, but mostly for the benefit of all those skinny youngsters. Well, that's what a veteran grunt in wartime and drill sergeant in peace time does, ain't it?
So, I went to the keep, mounted the stage we had just recently used to sacrifice some o' them barbaric nord pissers and hollered some.
"Don't worry, you piss ant soldiers! Take a look at that swadian sons of *****es! Them reconquering this castle? Never. Ever. Say on thing for these swadian ******s, say that they know how to build a fortress! Besides, I've been in number of battles and from how things stand, we've got about as many soldiers as them swadian arseholes. And we're behind walls!"
The battle hardened among us kept pursing their lips and had to work hard not to fall into hard laughter at that. They knew it'd be a piece of cake battle. How could we lose?
But lose we did. Because someone had forgotten to lock the back door after he went out shopping and skirt chasing (read: looting and raping) among the farms the night before.That someone being my mother's favourite and only son. Darn it!
THE PRESENT
So, here I am, sitting in the tavern of Rivacheg, pondering upon which course to take next. But I'm hurrying ahead too far, begging your pardon.
THE RECENT PAST
I've gotten away alive after having been knocked out. I've woken up to the smell of acrid smoke and burning flesh. Damn, it sizzled and sazzled! I've been laying in a pit full of corps that was already burning. Them swadian cocksuckers must've taken me gone for good. Well, then. I gathered my wits (what had been left, at least), took a deep breath and waited for the smoke to be thick enough to give me a cover to crawl away unnoticedly.
Soot-facedly making my way among the countryside, I kept lugging my armor and mace in a sack to appear as another homeless and poor bugger. Nobody bothered me, if you don't count the bypassers spitting on me and calling me names. That had been the least of my concerns, though. I lived off the land for a couple of days until I'd reached Zendar. Me having an account at the Free Bank Of Zendar with all my savings. 20.000 Denar! Not bad, huh? Hopefully enough to get me started to restore my honor.
Finally arriving at Zendar, the guards wouldn't let me pass through the gates, but there are advantages to having 350 pounds on a seven feet frame. I caved in their skulls and took their money (they wouldn't be needing it anymore, now, would they?).
I quickly made my way to the bank, identified myself with a pre-arranged password as the owner of the account in question, got my money, visiited the whorehouse while letting my armor be un-dented at the local armory. After that I stocked up on groceries (those Zendarians really drive a hard bargain!), donned my armor, bought me a nifty bastard sword and gathered a rag tag army of misfits and some Onyx recruits.
Off we wandered the countryside, looking for fish small enough to be beaten and avoiding fish big enough to devour us. It had been hairy. On the way, I hired a messenger to go to Velucha and to ask for reinforcements. A few days later the messenger brought me the reply, from my liege:
"Bugger of, Osgotir! First, you'll have to prove your worth and your mettle. Then, maybe, we'll be able to forget what had happened at the swadian stronghold you and your men had lost!"
Hard words, but true nonetheless. I figured that raiding a few Nord farms might be enough to ingratiate myself with my Onyx brethren. Off I led my men, to loot, plunder, pillage and rape one Nord farm and village after the other. Until we've encountered some White Bandits who had made one village their ultimate *****. Us being outnumbered 1 to 3, barely managed to kill every last of them towel heads! But I had been knocked out leading a charge to safe some children and suffered a broken arm. It was my sword arm, so I had to switch my sword to my left arm and didn't manage well in the subsequent fights. But my recently acquired bodyguards Rolf, Marnid and Ymira would cover my back and sides and so, with their help, I pulled through.
Speaking of my bodyguards: there's something strange about them. I swear I've seen them taking hits that would've unmanned even the most seasoned and battle-hardened fighter. But somehow they never have a scratch in the aftermath. I meant to ask them, but I haven't, yet. You know, in the heat of the battle and within all that chaos I might've imagined things. But still...
THE PRESENT
It's day 31, now and we're about 45 guys and gals fighting to restore the Onyx honour.
Let's see how we'll fare.
Osgotir over and out.
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