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Battlepaw

The Miltia Leader and the Nogump

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The Militia Leader and the Nogump


 


Given here be an account of the events day of the Ant in week 2 of the starfall of the Digging in the year of 1022.  


 


“Yo new guy, go get the militia captain!†  The other men seemed to be laughing and several were exchanging bets.   I looked doubtfully down the lane.   


The long road that went past a rather ragged set of archery targets was dubious at best and had a rather grisly deco going for it.  


 


The severed heads were staked on pikes, and accompanied by signs.   Most said “Don’t touch the grape bushes.†   Or they warned: “This is what happens when you steal grapes.†  This particular sign had a severed hand dangling by a rusty chain.  


 


I gulped and looked past the signs to endless fields of plump, juicy looking grapes that seemed to be slowly swallowing the capital, fighting the local forest and town gardens for every inch of land.   Very few of the citizens living there seemed to be in a hurry to try to fight the infestation though.


 


Looking back at my comrades they shook their heads violently and pointed down towards the ramshackle and run down looking house at the end of the road.    It had a faded wooden sign on it declaring it to be “Paw’s Brew: Est. 1012â€.   


 


From inside I could smell the vapors of cooking maple syrup and the lyrics of a baudy bar song being sung loudly and horribly out of tune. 


  


“Magranon’s beard and Libilia’s tears!â€


“The best beer leaves no fear!†


“Cried the sol-dier! One round more and evermore!† 


 


 


Walking carefully up, picking my way with the greatest delicacy through overhanging grape bushes I rapped on the door. 


The response was a flung open door, and I tripped over my feet and sprawled over backwards as a foul smell of ground grapes and sticky, burnt maple syrup wafted out.  


A hulk of a man with a scraggly brown beard peered down at me brandishing a bucket.  


 


 I looked up at him. He scowled daggers at me.  


 


“Can’t ya see I’m brewin boy!†  Then he looked at my gear and then down the lane at the rest of the militia.   


 


“Ah, yea I supposed I did say to stop by today. Guess it be huntin day.  Gotta keep the local woods clean of the drake spirits and such.† 


 


The door slammed back shut and I heard an almighty clatter of pots, pans, assorted bangs and splashes.   At one point a disgruntled chicken flew from out of one of the upper story windows.   The sounds of a doused fire, was shortly followed by the door being flung open again and the scraggly bearded man was leading a just as disheveled pony outside.  


 


The pony blinked a few times and looked around as if it wasn't used to being outdoors, or anywhere but its accustomed stable for that matter.   


The rider promptly mounted up and clanked in his ill-fitting and battered looking plate armor.   “Well?!†  Came the hollow voice from inside the helmet.  


 


I pointed at the rest of the Militia and he nudged his pony forward, it seemed to take the command as more a suggestion then an order and trotted meekly forward towards the rest. 


Running along behind him to keep up my own horse was waiting for me being held by militia members that were now laughing and exchanging coppers, winnings as it appeared.   


 


“This is our leader?†  I asked one of the riders as we slowly trotted as a small, rag tag group out of the encircling fences and towers of the capital city.    


My partner just shrugged and we followed in silence until we got to the edge of the great forest surrounding the capital, and our leader called a halt.  


 


We listened to the distant sounds of battle deep in the forest.   Somewhere a Gorilla was dying.   This was quite typical. The constant invasion of fell creatures from the moon of the gods was a bane on the land.   Typically though you stayed out of the way of what it spawned.  Today however it seemed we wouldn't be running from the sound but going to investigate.  


 


Cricking his neck the leader slung a shield from his back and pulled a glowing sword out of his tattered scabbard and charged forward.    The rest of us haphazardly tagged along with a total lack of enthusiasm as well as a great appreciation for our own hides and common sense.   


 


If he wanted to die first, I supposed it could do no harm to let him lead us. 


 


It wasn’t an eagle spirit attacking the Gorillia, by the holy three  it was a Nogump!    All of us skidded to a halt abruptly as the warrior charged forward and was promptly lifted in the air, horse and all and tossed down a nearby hill in a clatter of flying armor and curses.  


 


It was like watching a group of cave bugs scatter before the cleaners, as the huge monster pounded forward and swatted his ham fists and giant club at another militia member squashing him flat in a single blow.  


 


I was flung from my horse and thrown to the ground as my horse panicked and bucked me free.   The huge creature loomed over me and prepared to strike.  I rolled to the side and tried to craw away when a nearby tower guard that had been alerted to the violence pushed me aside and took the blow on his shield.  


 


Tower guards, being magical spawn of the land weren't known for being very bright.    I however had the good sense to take off running.   I was brought up short by a massive hand grabbing my collar and spinning me around.  


 


The leader was standing up, dusting himself off and holding up a small golden statue as he yanked on the ratty ear of something he had found in the ditch the Nogump had flung him.  


 


The gaping fangs of a massive mountain troll leered stupidly up at me before the leader gave it a kick in the rear and pointed it at the nogump where it promptly ran forward under some sort of spell.  


 


“Git ur butt back in there, we can’t outrun it, we have to kill it!†   The leader screamed at me and darted forward, dragging me along.


Throwing me to the side he pulled up his shield and started hacking away at the massive creature along with tower guard and troll.   


It didn't take long for the creature to smash the guard flat.   The mountain troll lasted a bit longer.   Not by much though.  


 


Finally with a scream of rage, and blood foaming from both its deformed mouths, it rounded on the leader just as he shoved his sword through its throat.    Thrashing deep in its death throes about with the weapon sprouting from its neck the leader was thrown neatly into a nearby tree. 


  


I just stood there, frozen in shock as it slowly rounded on me, its eyed glazed over then it promptly fell over backwards with an earth shattering thud.  


 


Poking it with my trembling sword I surmised it was quite dead.  


 


With a shower of branches and a crunch of battered plate armor our leader fell out of the tree, and then shakily stumbled onto his feet.    Blinking a bit cross-eyed at me he shook his head and almost tripped over the body of his short lived pet troll as he reached down and yanked the sword from the creature’s neck.   


 


With a grimace of disgust he pulled out a wad of cotton and wiped off the ichor before he slammed the sword back into its scabbard.  Reaching to his belt he pulled up a wineskin and tossed it to me as he walked over and withdrew a short butchering knife.  


 


“Gump be good eatin!† He cried in delight as he plucked something shiny from inside it and pocketed the find.   “Guess we got something in here to toss to the gods too er?† 


I was completely bewildered but, uncorking the wineskin I found the beverage within to taste mighty fine on the lips.   


 


I could tell my time in the militia was going to be interesting…


Edited by Battlepaw
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