3. Dietrick's Tale. (a very sword buckling right-sized tale)

Dietrick's Tale. (a very sword buckling right-sized tale)

  • The Halfling Defence League

    Face to Face with the Enemy
    The prelude before the final showdown

    He sits atop the big boulder beside Selene's tent. His cloak drawn down upon the white rock, one leg stretched out and the other stretched inwards, with an elbow on top of it as He looked over the south fires of Norwick with the same, innocent blank look.

    -The air changed-

    As if time herself is lagging…..

    What is this?

    Something feels wrong....

    Who?

    A woman in black platemail stepped into his vision.

    There!

    She made another step forward across his vision, her greaves clanked.

    Why? He could hear the echo resounding from each of her steps, his blood curdled, like a blade cutting across his arm slowly, the voice of his instincts howled….. It felt like another form of sentinence, intelligence was pin pointing her to him, and drawing him to cast his attention onto her: a woman in black platemail. She had her hair tied into a ponytail, held a sword on one hand and a shield on the other.

    Hillen wore black platemail from descriptions...

    Hers was a face new to him, yet it striked at the edge of his memory. Afterall, he had been constantly imagining what she was like all this while.... His suspicion grew strongly about this stranger.

    An unusual calm was about her.

    His attention drawn, he whispered to Adrian beside him.

    "Adrian?"

    "Yes?" came the soft reply.

    Dietrick's eyes were still fixed on her as he tilted his head towards the knight to whisper.

    "can ya help wit sumthing? "

    "Ah.. yes. "

    He had beseeched the knight to detect evil in her.

    As she sat on the stone bench and Adrian with Dietrick stood opposite her behind the fire, Adrian closes his eyes, tilted his head and listened quietly.

    "mmm you luk like fren ah noe, may noe name pease?" the hin asked.

    "Susan Doenime. "

    "ahh..." He was disappointed, yet not convinced in the least.

    Adrian opened up his eyes and nodded to Dietrick.

    "Me Sieg". He thumps his chest as his way of introduction. He was careful not to give his true identity away...

    "What mean?" He whispered to Adrian.

    "I sense it in her." Adrian replied.. "I knew it!" Dietrick thought...

    "Odd. You look like a hin I'd heard of. " She replied.

    Dietrick looked at her oddly, disturbed by Adrian's confirmation. It IS her!

    "Reallie?" The hin laughed heartily.

    "Oh yes. It's the sword, you know. Hard to mistake."
    That had to be it! Lawgiver was distinguishable, and he's likely the only hin in the whole nars to carry a sword like that on his back. A certain joy arose in him, an excitement... An exhiliration...to meet his enemy face to face like this... Is it her? Either her or her henchman, he thought.

    "funny huh? we both tink each other luk like sumun we noe... "

    "Who is it that I resemble? "

    "yea... and your black platemail seem to remind sieg of sumun... Sieg tink ya luk like girl dat sieg luking fer... "

    She glances at her armor.
    "It's hardly an uncommon color for plate. "

    "Oh?" She said, starting to be intrigued he sensed in her...

    At this time, an elven woman by the name of Radriel, one of Jerrick's legion recruit drew everyone's attention.
    "I spotted a goblin catapult outside the gates, hidden in the bushes. " Radriel said.

    He wasn't concerned. He was interested in HER. But he went, along with her outside the south gates. He could tell her interest was also in him, both of them putting up a false front, following the crowd, yet their minds were locked onto each other.

    "I'd have a black platemail over other colors any day." she continued.

    "true. though fren ere' also found out ya a lil in common to girl sieg luking fer too. " She was tainted... Somehow instinctively, he knew it was her.

    "so wat bout da sword on sieg's back? ah sieg noe im' "

    The crowd continued on between the two of them. He paid little attention on what was happening, his other focus was on her.

    "who is it I supposedly resemble? " She asked.

    "old fren..." He mummured... His gaze unshifting from hers.
    "so uhh susan, why ya luking fer dis dietrick anyway? sieg hear of im' and could help." He begins to test her.

    "I didn't say I was looking for him. I said your sword resembled his."

    He had been distracted and given out a loophole.

    "oh so ya noe of dis dietrick huh? din noe he is dat famous! "
    He quickly tried to change the subject. He needed to keep the talk on her.

    "Oh yes. "

    "where'd ya hear of im' anyway, thought he just a warrior ya noe? "

    "I hear he's wanted in Peltarch. "

    "he is? "

    "Something to do with burning down a gaushaus. "

    "uh huh. " A strange calm went between the two.

    "Killed a good many people. " right...

    "hear da magistrate shannon cleared is' name though "

    "Really? I hadn't heard that. "

    "so wats susan doin down south fer? did susan come frum afar? "

    "Just passing through. I used to live here. "

    "....." He went silent for a minute, struck.
    "mmm......" He nodded. He was getting closer her thought, slowly his suspicions are becoming concrete.

    "miss family susan? "

    "Indeed. "

    "see em' yet? "

    The crowd started returning into Norwick, the gate shut behind the last of them.

    "Hmm... well... that about does it for witnesses. " She commented.

    "one up der."

    It was dark. They were several feets away from each other, the air between carried a silent stillness. Radriel jumped down from the cliff having wrecked the goblin catapult, the cause of them being out here. She stood between them, obvious not knowing the danger she was in.

    "hey legion recruit, mind headin to town? susan an sieg need lil word. "

    " ...Who? " Radriel asked. Obviously feeling the tenseness, she quietly walks back into town and shuts the gate behind her.

    Dietrick slowly drew Lawgiver from his back, a hissing sound of metal against metal as the sword slowly emerges.

    Rather lazily, 'Susan' spoke: " You can still walk away, Sieg. I won't stop you. "

    "din say sieg want... to get sporty you noe. " He never intended a fight. They will fight, but not now. Their battlefield will be at her tower, for now, a warrior respects another in coming to their own hometown to tie up loose ends, as most usually does, before their final confrontation, and he would honor her peace.

    "just kinda scary wit susan havin a weapon , so sieg thought he take out his fer show too. "

    "Well... but my business here is done."

    "wat business? "

    "To look over the town once more, for old times sake. Take the measure of people like Di-... Sieg. "

    "want see wat he look like? "

    "Something like that. How formidable he might prove. "

    "mebbe sieg can show you sumthing bout this dietrick too? "

    "Oh? "

    Dietrick nods.

    "Such as? "

    "just sumthing bout im', will need to take ya somewhere though, if ya care to follow. "

    "Where is that?"

    "south."

    "Oh, well. Lead on. "

    He smiles as he sheathes his blade. He could tell, she wasn't here to draw blood. Strangely he felt no hostility with this woman, despite having nevermet her before, she is familiar to him.

    The two walked side by side into the old town, it was night , no spectrals showed up however.

    As they walked, he began to speak along the old road south...

    "der a tale bout da old town. susan prolly hear... old town is haunted."

    "I have heard this. "

    "der use to be a family ere'. lived during mayor tarien's time."

    They walked and reached the ruins of an old house south, where the little ghost girl once lived. "der! just right ere' "

    Dietrick continued to tell the tale...
    "Was a guard and a laundry woman, who had five lil children. During da defiler wars, all of em' died, save fer one. "

    "Tragic."
    He watched her reaction, none yet. He decided to egg on.

    " Yah. But dat no da worse. Ya noe..."
    Her eyebrow raises slightly.

    "Sieg always thought da lil one who lived is poor thing, and pity her. Is when hear da story fer first time. But after found out she made use of her lil dead sister fer her own intent, Sieg dun tink so anymore. Susan see da lil girl ghost before?"

    "Not alive. "

    Dietrick sighed. "Is very tragic, she wants to go back to be wit the rest of her family.. "

    "What prevents her? "

    "But her sister made her suffer ere' all alone cuz she want sumthing else. Seem her sister gone into messy ways, took her bones "

    "Bah. You are wrong. "

    "wats da rite story den? "

    "The truth is this pile of rubble always had a sad little ghost haunting it. It just never had enough power before to bother you."

    "Oh." Dietrick toned down, somewhat deflated.

    "Out of sight, out of mind. Not enough power to disturb a mouse... just enough to haunt this ash heap in its loneliness. Oh, you can lay a great deal at the sister's feet... but not the sufferings of the little ghost.
    She just made them... noticeable. "

    "fair enuff. so why does sister no help da lil ghost to rest? "

    "Unintentionally, that's the amusing part. "

    "and besides, her sister did use her bones fer her own stuff... to sacrifice dat kinda stuff, dats using her lil sister no? "

    "Oh, that I grant you... but then, she's not really using the bones now, is she? "

    "No yet, but she will and she intend to make use of her own lil sister fer her own gain "
    Dietrick rubs it in, hoping to sting her heart, assuming she has one. What she said however shocked him.

    "If you can't take advantage of family, who can you take advantage of?"
    She chuckles. One part of Dietrick angers. The hin stood there, looking at her, not moving. Defeated, but he starts anew one.

    "Den this woman even turned on her closest who took her in during the war to raise her."

    "It was the other way around. Just'ene drove m- her out. She could never live up to that impossible code... you've met Just'ene, I'm sure."

    "because just'ene could not accept her choosing a way dat make her a worse person."

    She laughed.

    "hear dat the woman seek "wild" ways." He thought back about the days Hillen was a prostitute.

    "At the time, the worst thing she'd done was shoplifting a doll once."
    "Wild ways... that's amusing"

    "dats...all?" Dietrick was caught, stunned. Suddenly, the picture of Hillen as a little girl flashed in his mind, her difficult childhood, always wanting Just'ene to... just accept her. Then her mistake... stealing that doll from a shop...

    "I suppose Just'ene would put it like that."

    "justene threw her out cuz she steal a doll?"

    "I see you don't know Just'ene too well."

    "Nope, never lived in jiyyd but do noe justene seem... too straight."

    "Just'ene threw her out because she wasn't perfect."

    "Justene was harsh. But sieg do tink susan shud noe sumthing..."

    "No matter how much she admired Just'ene... wanted to please her... she couldn't live up to what she expected."

    Dietrick looked down in thought.

    "The amusing part is that now, in the end, she's found the sort of dedication Just'ene wished her to have. If not in quite the way she wanted."

    Dietrick laughed heartily, somewhat sympathizing with her and laughing at the cold twist.

    "Seem woman have much pain."

    "Pain can be a source of great strength."

    "Sieg ave sumthing like susan to noe though."
    Finally, he bought back up what he had wanted to tell her.

    "Oh?"

    "When sieg once talk to justene about this woman... If der once justene seem waver, or unsure bout sumthing, was when ask bout woman to justene. Sieg can tell woman was heavy rock in justene's heart."

    Her lips curls. "I'm not surprised."

    "Justene still care fer woman, Sieg tink."

    "Very likely."

    "Funny though."

    "Hm?"

    "Justene no accept woman fer no living to her standards, but woman no accept justene fer way justene is too..."

    "The woman never rejected Just'ene. It was the other way around."

    "Okay." There seemed now no way to justify, he isn't wise like Celestria, if only she was here.... On to a last neutral point...

    "Sieg been tryin find out sumthing, mebbe susan might noe since she noe much of the story?"

    "Hm?"

    "Wat is name of the lil girl who haunt house here?"

    "Ah, that's something I do know. But I'm not going to tell you. Good day, Master D- Sieg. Now that I've seen you..."

    "If things turn out in sieg favour, sieg will like to help woman's sister rest. Susan will not help?"

    "I doubt you'll win."

    "Yah? Why?"

    "You're weaker than I had expected."

    "Duel? As Susan and Sieg?"
    He could sense her strength, that killing intent of hers is so overwhelming she gave herself away as soon as he saw her. That's what gave her away, the killing intent of a killer, cannot be hidden from another warrior who have slain many. And now, he wanted a duel, one between warriors. He respected her skill and after this, he may never get such an opportunity to pit his skills against someone of such skill again.

    "Are you challenging me?"

    "No tink sieg can ave a true test of skill wit susan when.. .mebbe ya noe... in a messy situation."
    His mind flow towards the last battle: it will not be one on one, but a fight between two groups for true survival.

    "Hope susan allow sieg a chance to see susan skill. As warriors, other stuff aside."

    An amused look appears on her face. "Well then. En garde."

    "Ready?"

    "You are prepared, I hope. Ready"

    "You good sport susan." The hin smirks as he charges in with his sword.

    He started the attack by going defensive and try to taunt her to drop her guard, alas that mind of hers is too experienced and well guarded against such tactics. This one mistake costed him the fight.

    What went on next are the most fanciful displays of the deadliest and most exotic skill Dietrick ever saw. His eyes could catch her movement, but his movements could not follow, each of his attempt to dodge or block are met with her masterful strokes, knowing exactly where he would move and where he would open himself, he had seldom met an opponent, like... her.

    Three rounds passed, it seemed like the shortest time to an outsider, though only masters of combat could truly comprehend the swift movements contained therein. A blurry wave of her sword, and blood bursted from Dietrick at different holes all over his body, he blacked out.

    Am I going to die? Will she take this opportunity to finish me off? Its a big risk I had taken. These question floated in his mind.

    After what seemed like minutes, the hin twitched and gasped for air, his eyes opening.

    She stood there.

    "Susan is... as tuff as Dietrick sense."

    She tsks. "Hardly a challenge."

    Dawn has just arisen, the sun shone in the horizon against his eyes as his body laid on the ground, his head stretches forward up to see the black plated figure walk away north.

  • The Halfling Defence League

    Taking to the Winds

    The sword goes in a few centimetres into the concrete wall in a hard stroke, two strong arms pull it outwards forward in an arc, the sword point grinds against rock and sparks flew out as a hissing sound like that of an angry snake is heard. The shadowy figure ducks and runs, Dietrick could picture that glee on his face.

    The two run through the corridors, the hin adamant on taking him down, the shade however, is powerful and elusive, dodging his blows and even when he doesn't, the strokes seemingly go right through him harmlessly like through water. Eventually the shade got away, and Dietrick crawled his way out of the crypts towards the end of the trip.

    –-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    He stands atop the hill looking out, his sword sheathed on his back, his eyes vigilant. These were days of troubles, with a shade, undead gods, demons and occultic hauntings that plague the town.

    It did make Dietrick feel more restless, having to fight non stop without rest, ironically his blade remained sharper, knowing any let down during battle could be fatal.

    Admist all these troubles, there was something else that bothered him.

    "Then perhaps you should evaluate your position in the militia."
    Aramuil's voice echoed in his head.

    Lately the militia have all sort of differences arising within, each had their different view, and those with rank tries imposing their ways using authority. This upset Dietrick. It made him question if the militia was truly functioning in the town's best interest, or for authority figures' selfish interests?

    Had not Dwin once taunted the demons due to his pride , luring an attack onto the town? What did that serve? How did that safeguard the town?

    And for one man's desires, the lives of the townfolk will be put at stake?
    Too many times were the town's interests blend in with Dwin's. Too many times the militia fought, not purely always for what's best Dietrick thought.

    The sword of the militia is sharp, but is it always fighting the right battle?

    The conflict that once wedged Celestria and him apart arose partly due to rank and compliance as well.

    These made him doubt his place more.
    "Is this really right for Dietrick?"

    Over time and especially lately, when events are on the rise are a man's heart truly put to the test. Slowly but surely, Dietrick is beginning to understand he isn't suited to be a militia. People have said that to him before. He sees this more and more himself.

    What's worse, it becomes harder and harder to trust his commanders' decisions, all the more as he grows stronger and more experienced. Many times his superiors had wanted one way, and he often saw another. And when battle outcomes proved him right, it made him doubt them more, as he realize he is starting to know better.

    Lately he had worked hard and is making headway into solving the hauntings south. Rather than commend him for his work, Dwin and Mord had berrated him for "aiding other towns instead of doing what he should be doing". More and more he feels misunderstood. And when he tried clarifying, Mord simply slapped something random on him. Thinking back, they never credited him, despite the efforts he put in.

    Moreover, when Dwin was displeased of him helping other towns, Dietrick realized this might probably be the wrong path he is heading.

    The militia's aim is to protect norwick and despite possibly being selfish with only norwick's interest in mind, that is its purpose, but not Dietrick's. Dietrick wants to fight wherever needed, not just in Norwick, and certainly don't want something holding him back and getting upset at him for doing so.

    Perhaps he really is not suited to be a soldier in the militia, his nature made it unsuitable, he did not want constraint, no rules, just practical common sense. Authority served only to complicate matters and hinder progress. Authority is flawed, what he wants, is to fight towards whatever the good in his heart told him to.

    The militia had been a big part of his life and helped shaped him to be what he is, but the thought of how free and relieved he would be to be free of the "orders and chains of command" bought a feeling of ease , if not comfort, in him. His heart had directed , and he will trust it again.

    "I will take to the winds, free will I be. My feet travels where it wants, chained no more are they…"

  • The Halfling Defence League

    Code of a Warrior, and the harder battle
    And the further one goes, the harder the battle

    Long and hard, the hin had fought.

    Memories… they run through his mind...

    Of those early days.. when he first stumbled to narfell. First saw Barrim wielded the hand and a half sword, first learnt how to wield a two handed sword...

    When he first acquired basic armour and a shop quality bastard sword...
    He remembered how he would wander restlessly throughout the nars, fighting off scavengers and whatever hostile factions around the land trying to survive and make a living... Eventually to being recruited into the Norwick militia, and settled in a town, fighting under a banner.

    Fighting never ceased for Dietrick, but changed in many ways it had, even as the hin himself have changed much as well.

    Memories... How he remembered the enjoyable days of fighting as a green horn, there was always something new he learned in battle each time, how the excitement always was there from the adrenaline flowing as he had to fight his best or it could be his last... Those, were Dietrick's fondest memories, as those battle were... meaningful.

    Strangely, that special feeling seemed to wane , ironically as he gained in experience. That very special feeling, the adrenaline rush, of fighting a foe as strong as you are, or stronger, how much focus he had to put in then..... He mostly won eventually, with bravery to stand fighting even nearing the edge of death.

    Battles during those days relied mainly on his fighting spirit, when he would put in his best into each stroke of his blade. As that was most of what little he had then, being poorly equipped and ever making mistakes due to lack of experience. And thus he was proud of each victory then.

    Through these Dietrick had become a seasoned veteran warrior, over these many countless battles he fought and lived through. It was to become stronger so he could fight better, yet slowly he is losing that special joy as well. He realized, as one needed heart less and less, one relied on what's easier, skill in this case, more and more. What bravery is needed after all if one could easily kill a young goblin with a well executed stroke of the blade? When one knows from just a glance how easily this foe would fall to one's experience?

    Is this the woe master swordsmen faced at their peak? That no worthy foe exist and battles became a bore? And loses its meaning?

    Reflection of recent times revealed this, of the problem of relying on skill more than fighting with heart, and this, is a growing problem that would engulf and consume him, if he does not guard against it. Dietrick knows it is starting to, obviously from the gradual subtle lack of enthusiasm in battles itself.

    Then, the thought struck him.

    In the long run, the biggest obstacle a warrior faces, is not trying to break past his limits to reach a new level in skill, but to overcome the growing complacency of relying on higher-end skill to win, and neglecting the spirit and heart of battle. Such is very real as one hardly needed guts any more in a battle, since one can easily win using skill alone. But that is not the way of the warrior, for it isn't the strength of one's arm that makes one a warrior, but the boldness to be fearless in one's heart. Weren't these so familiar, the code that made him and defined him?

    Thus he set himself the challenge, as a seasoned warrior, to guard against that wrong attitude, and to once again continue learning to master the fears and complacency in one's heart during battle, as this grows ever a stronger challenge the higher the skill one possesses.

    That, is his way of the warrior, Dietrick's way of the warrior.

  • The Halfling Defence League

    The seeking of a sword of legend

    The giant of a man strides pass , a giant of a sword on his back. He had just beaten another of the tribe's best and his defeated opponent laid on the ground, beaten senseless. The group of young tribals, including a hin among them, looked on in awe admiring at him as he strides across proudly, a feeling of pride seeping out from him to the onlookers. That was the tribe's proudest warrior, Rothgut, and on his back the prize of the tribe: the legendary warcleave. Tis said "only those worthy possess weapons of power", and that each warrior’s personal weapon is a reflection of himself. Henceforth, each warrior sought a weapon worthy of hhim.

    –-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    "You know, maybe you should give that sword of yours a name!" The thin wiry figure suggests.

    "Nah! This one just a common un' from a shop. One day Dietrick find real sword worthy of name!"

    Thorn gave him a shrug.

    Thoughts of Dietrick about his old sword
    This one is not fit to bear a name. He had thought back. So many a times, his heart was yearning, his arms did not fail, he had landed a well placed blow on those enemies. That glee on their faces in the light of the reflection from swinging metal as they realize his sword had power not to harm them. Such shame, as tool fail strength worthy and a bold heart! How unworthy are you sword! Have you no pride! Will you not muster yourself and hurt as you are meant to? You shine in vain!

    "This is a lifeless thing!" Dietrick thought. Greatly disheartened he is with the sword that refuses to beat along with the war drum like rhydum in his heart. It was not worthy! Gold was the exchange for it, not blood, not skill, not bravery! Such is the price! And its performance was his punishment Dietrick felt. And he resented it. Oh heroes of the nars, most held weapons of name, he too yearned to find a weapon worthy of his skill, worthy to ride into battle with him; not as a tool of his game, but as a companion by his side. Together, where strength meets steel in union to unleash the finest blows worthy of songs, as expected of a proud warrior, to bring only the best into battle. And when it comes , the sword will have a name.

  • The Halfling Defence League

    [For those who notice the changes made, I often review and edit my articles for language, smoother read, as well as getting to the emotions as accurately as possible as sometimes just try to write down as fast as possible to capture what happened without time to think through on what was Dietrick's actual emotions and thoughts at the time, I correct these during edition]

    Hurt

    Slumping down upon a small rock , the hin had managed to stumble pass the north gates, despite his heavy heart. The night was cold, as like any other, however he felt nothing, as it wasn't colder than his heart.

    She had railed at him. He thought to himself. For what? He does not even remember , or perhaps it wasn't what bothered him. There was the little girl, the man, her, that look on her face, that tone… Grrrrrrrrr... He grits his teeth. And it seemed the only thing his mind was capable of holding of at the moment as the hin is steaming hot is that: her railing at him. She had NEVER spoke that way to him before. NEVER! So what did he meant to her exactly? He always thought of her as someone he would always be comfortable with, but now that had changed.

    She even pulled in rank to slam into his face. Rank!? That particular addition into the equation somewhat sours the pain double, because there was a relationship, it hurted more.

    After all this, is that what he meant to her? She would berate him over a little girl? It was her idea to be over worried over her, it seemed a bad idea at the start to get all paranoid over her, there are always little children around town, big folks give birth right? SO what's the concern over this one? Sigh he did, but went on anyway, BECAUSE she asked.

    He sips another gulp down from his ale. The words just came again….

    "If such a situation occurs and a senior officer is present and knowledgable of the situation, let them speak. Speak only if asked to, mm?"

    The father had asked "who?" The man was obviously demanding accountability from the one responsible and it was him. Dietrick wasn't one to cower and not own up to something he did. It was beneathe him.

    "Okay." He replied anyway, it was an instruction.
    Yet something within stirs… "Dietrick no want hide..."

    "Did you hear me? " came the stern voice.

    At this, Dietrick felt a rising fire within. The feeling was like a stone pillar falling from above on him. It simply was against his nature. Orders or not, logic or not, wisdom or not, it felt like asking him to stay back when he is the one demanded, it felt like asking him to shierk back, and that irritated him tremendously.

    "if girl want accuse, dietrick no hide ."

    "I would not make you have to hide, Dietrick. I would handle it."
    But he is the one directly involved, the thought of someone else standing in his place ... just doesn't cut it! A chaotic fire burns more intensively, he can feel it, its that fire of defiance, the same one that burned when the chief of his tribe disallowed him to be a warrior.

    He was slightly annoyed, and makes a half jesting, half serious remark.
    "celestria owe dietrick to make im' go thru all dat."

    "Tis a matter of rank, young hin, and you all too oft argue with me so I am thinking you owe me."

    His lips turn to a greater frown. He was joking but he hadn't thought she'd respond this way.

    "so wat celestria want dietrick to pay wit?"
    There it goes, a big reaction from him. Ever predictable, Dietrick simply gets more aggressive upon being challenged.

    Silence between the two went for a while...

    Ronan whistles a bit.. "I'll be by the fire. "

    "Respect and obedience. Simple as that. Or... I can sick Devlin on you." She shrugs.

    A threat? pfff.. He couldn't care less, or rather he wasn't terrified in the least. It always was so whenever Dietrick's values were challenged.

    More words from her came. He didn't exactly bother what they were. He just remembered being berrated by her. The friendship and the mix of being asked to compromise on certain values fustrated the little one greatly.

    "funny un thing... " the hin wasn't look at her in the face, rather downwards.

    "She is child and guess what, Dietrick? You give trouble too and you are not e'en a child" as she spoke in motion...

    "celestria start dis by asking dietrick to watch her, dis end wit dietrick ere' in dis cuz celestria ask im' to watch her... "
    Why was he even in this situation? She was the one who caused this since she made him play goody guard with a kid because she was the one overly concerned.

    He found himself back at the north gates again....in the present.

    A distant memory came. He was promoted along with Andrew. Celestria and him were peers. They laughed together and fought much together. Both were just guardsman of the same rank then.

    It was soon when she was promoted to Senior Guardsman, everyone was happy. Dietrick too. All this while, they fought together, did not everyone just saw the other as a comrade and worked together to get pass the dangers?

    Time passed by. Celestria was promoted to Lieutenant, Kresha to Senior guardsman. Everyone was happy, Dietrick too. Until today. No longer peers, but superior berating surbodinate.

    He fought for so long, so hard, sometimes so dangerous, but he never complainted. Always willing. Never thought more. Never wanted more. But now this....

    Who's sword was it that stood against the strength of demons? Who's blood was it that bled?

    It felt undeserving.

    "Should Dietrick continue bleeding and receive a scolding in return?"
    The hin questions.

    Rejection

    He lies down across the rock, his back on it, his face looking up the night sky. The two guards of the north gates have fallen asleep. A silly smile crosses his lips at the two sleep standing, recalling himself having done so before.

    Sigh…He turns up to look at the night sky.

    Maybe.... I'm not cut out for this job afterall. He thought. He is free-spirited, he likes freedom, hates constraints, Mord hated the way he charges off , Celestria is starting a pin him with her rank... They weren't wrong, he is. Its what's expected of a militia. He hates regimental ways, never had such standards in the tribe, everyone was free to be what they want there. One thing he knew he wanted though: to defend norwick. He joined initially as a recruit for the combat training taught to soldiers, he joined to fight against demon legions of hell, he never knew the life of a guard is this hard. Perhaps he isn't suited. They wanted that, but he isn't one, he knows it.

    Maybe Ginger was wrong about him. She believed him to be a good captain for the dragoons. Everyone else seem to think otherwise. Gears, Merial... Even Theaon, he kepts delaying the nomination process, the polls. What is his purpose? To delay long enough until he can find someone more pleasing to him?

    Those words.......ring in his mind.

    Gears smirks at Dietrick, lazily rubbing a sideburn.
    " S' an important post...gotta make sure we get th'right person f' th'job, s'all."

    Theaon grabs Dietrick's shoulder.
    "Hold on now just a moment lad. Perhaps some Valley folk feel you are not suited for the position, hence why we have elections so everyone's voice is heard. But that does not at all mean you are not wanted. Part of being a candidate in these elections is having to put up with some critisism. And regardless of the outcome of the election, we would never want a fellow kin to feel unwanted here in the Silver Valley."

    His words sound comforting, but in reality helped little.

    Despite the honey coated words, their actions have shown they do not believe in him or perhaps, they do not accept him. Not wanting him as captain is seen as a rejection of him. Theaon's words are condolences at best.

    Dietrick shuts his eyes.

    I am not the captain they want, I am only something, something they could still use as its better than nothing. But deep down when it comes to it, they know they do not accept me or trust me.

    Perhaps all this was wrong. Everything is a mistake. The people of the valley never needed him, he thought wrong. They needed a captain but that captain isn't him! He isn't the kind of captain they wanted. He isn't needed and they don't want him. The only delusion is he had fooled himself with the delusion that he could be their captain and perhaps gain their acceptance by doing something important for them. But in reality, none of them recognize him. Blending with the big folk have proved easier ironically.

    All this served only to wound his pride. He volunteered his service to take up the role, only to be unwanted. He had told Ginger they don't want him, she did not believe, she is wrong.

    It was all, just wishful thinking

  • The Halfling Defence League

    On the long road between two sides

    Which is the hardest step to take?
    The start? The middle? Or the end?
    The start sets one on the path that leads to an end, to walk or to not?
    The end brings one to where there is no other route to take, one faces one's choice
    I say the middle! For one can not turn back to avoid regrets, and to the end which awaits is certain!

    A chilling, lonesome wind that seemed like from a twilight blew pass him, causing the red cloak to flabber behind him like a soul seeking escape.
    He had walked this road before, but strangely, the long road from Jiyyd seemed particularly long this time around, it felt like never ending.

    He did not felt lonely however, the tall handsome fellow tribal Caric, was companying. Leaving Jiyyd behind, they were travelling back to Norwick, afterall, this could be one of the last few times he would be travelling back to it.

    They were speaking casually, he was not concentrating on the conversation however, his heart was heavy. Along the long path, which seemed to swallow him at the sides to force a decision out of him, he simply fell into a daze, his eyes looked back to not so long ago…

    He had always felt an inexplicable happiness whenever he sees Ginger and Theaon, and sometimes, Gears. Perhaps because they were his brothers and sisters, they were kin, they are same, as Ginger would always call it, right-sized.

    He was a guard in the militia of Norwick, a position he is proud to have. He did not intend to be one. He became one for the training. Casually passing it well enough to be promoted to guard status. It wasn't for the rank however, but for the family Norwick offered. They gave him a home, they taught him many things, they filled his life. Over time, he grew close to the guards, eating together, doing the trainings, and the many missions that edged each of them between life and death, but at the end they were all together, because each supported and watched out for the other.

    There were of course other smaller factors. Gratitude to repay, war with the demons. But he knows those are not the reason, but the family the town offered. He had grown to love Norwick, and will fight to protect it, guard or not.

    Dietrick is a warrior, his purpose revolves around the name of battle. However, he finds out life is more than simply battle, proving to be complicated, beyond his very finite lacking wisdom.

    He is caught in between now in a particular setting. Along the long road. Norwick lies ahead, will this be his last time returning, or will he forget what he is and turn a blind eye?. His heart ached, and inside, cried for an answer.

    Ginger had approached him. She seemed troubled, and mentioned Juster's departure from his position of captain of the dragoon forces of the valley. Indeed it is troubling for an army to go without a leader. She did not ask directly, but she mentioned to him of her difficulty in being unable to find a sutiable cannidate to fill the post. Dietrick was no genius, but sharp as he is could guess her agendas in spilling this out to him. Was it him or was it truly a hint from her? Ginger seldom approached him, only this time she did, and the only major change which could possibly have triggered her to do so is the matter at hand…

    Discussion came between Ginger , and him. She shook her head, telling him she hadn't thought of anyone within the halfling defence league capable enough to replace Juster. It seemed bleak.

    It was one day in the pass during one of Diet's patrols, when he ran into Theaon. They ended up drinking together at a tavern in the docks of Peltarch.

    Since the opportunity came up, Dietrick chatted with Theaon regarding the valley.
    Questions arose about the hin valley's strategic location and stability, that any hostile force would have to bypass the formidable legion in jiyyd first to reach the valley at all.

    Contrary to beliefs, Theaon reveals the valley was attacked by hobgoblins in the past, they entered through the woods.

    The thought of the hobgoblins slaughtering innocent hin folk angered Dietrick. It stirred a desire, one to fight any that would threaten the valley in such a way.

    Theaon mentioned the hobgoblins broke the truce between them and the hin valley.

    As fate would have it, coincidentally of late the hobgoblins have been stirring. Unusually large numbers and movements on their part had been spotted, with an invasion by them at the norwick north gates recently to boot....

    Dietrick's mind grew disturbed as the pieces of circumstance came together and possibilities conjured by imagination manifest.

    A particular one bought a scowl to his face..

    "What if the hobgoblins decided to attack the valley, again? He asked himself.

    Waves of restlessness surged through him in the following weeks... What if's haunted his mind...

    He gave thought to where Tempus would want him to go. Clearly Norwick is the town in worser straits and have a greater need than the valley. Demons and cults, unspeakable evil broods at hand, plotting to destroy the fragile little town he calls home. To leave the town now to its enemies did not seem favourable.

    It was Norwick that groomed him, will he leave it now in its current straits because he has found the means to do so? Worries over the town plagued his mind.

    The thought of him unable to and purposely leaving Norwick in its lurch is preturbing to say the least.

    He thought much in the coming days....

    The silver valley is the sole home of the hins. It is the sweat and blood of his people, created so there may be one place in the nars which belonged to the hins where the hins possess the right to live free, not subject to other races. Memories of the scenic graphic picture of the hin's waterfalls and hills came into his mind, he stood at one of the hills near the gate, looking down at the rich lush farmlands, he saw people looking alike him. The valley, is not just a homeland, but it represented the very existance of hins in the nars. Where will they go should it be destroyed?

    Dietrick possessed an analytical mind when it came to matters related to war and battle. His reasoning told him the valley needed him more, or at least he thinks so. Norwick may be in a more perilous position, it has however many talented people defending him, they will succeed in delivering him from whatever calamity, he is sure. The valley however, have few defenders and is vulnerable. What if the valley is destroyed? Where would the hins go? Should any other town fall, the humans and denizens can find refuge or migrate to another land or town. Most settlements in narfell have humans as the majority part of the population. But the hins have nowhere! This is their home and land, and hins believe in community, should the community fall, the family is broken.

    The situation was clear, but there was too much to let go.

    Uncertainties haunted him.

    He was leaving somewhere familiar and comfortable for a land he is a stranger in. However right the act might seem, he felt uneasy.

    Could he truly adapt to the valley? Dietrick remembered, he once asked Ginger that he wondered if he could get along with the people. She said, "Of course! we are all very nice people here!" with a smile.
    He smiled faintly. He remembered Gears. How he would despise him because he knew not the hin tongue. He feared. He was a warrior but he could not help feeling afraid of a life where his people would not accept him because of his differences, how he did not grow up in a normal hin community, not understanding its cultures and ways. Will there be more gears? How those eyes would see him like a freak… see him as ..different?

    To leave those in Norwick who were clearly warmer to him to defend people who clearly have and may not accept him, is not an easy act to live up to.

    And how should he face Devlin? He shuddered at the thought of confrontation. The mentor who had taught him his best skills, helped him to settle in Norwick, trained him in the militia ways. Devlin would not approve of it, Dietrick knows this, and will Dietrick disregard him and leave anyway? Without his acceptance? The bond between a mentor and disciple is not easily understood, nor one easily broken, and this particular one remained something close to his heart.

    "What is the way? Which, should he choose?"

    Both carried dire consequences he would hate to face. Both were difficult choices.

    Mord's face telling him about decisions and that one has to choose what is right flowed through his thoughts as he walked slowly, heavily along the long road, the stars slowly illuminated in the evening sky, silhouetted by the darkness breaking over them like a shadow.

    What will be the end to this? Will he regret?

    He continued listlessly with heavy steps along the road towards the crossroad...

    He stops in his tracks. A breeze bypasses him lightly, toying with his cloak uplifting it a bit then letting it fall gently. He raises his head and smiles. Familiar faces laid before him, the brooding subsides for the moment.

    Celestria bid Andrew farewell with her usual charm, something she always had about her as she grins at Andrew, after a passionate kiss.
    "I will see you shortly."

    "Be safe in your travels." Andrew turns to leave.

    "Torm goes with me, I shall."

    Dietrick raises his little muffin fingers to wave at the knight fading from view. His heart is warmed somewhat seeing the sweet romance between the two, they looked good together.

    It was some time ago... Dietrick had baded Celestria to speak for him to Mord whether he could remain in the guards while serving the dragoon.

    "Mord did say your aid to Norwick would always be welcome, but you cannot retain your status with the guard."

    His heart sank. He knew Mord would say this. He just could not bring himself to ask, hoping perhaps if someone else did, there might be hope for otherwise? Even warriors delude themselves? How naive he is, Dietrick thought to himself.

    "No want leave until Devlin say yes..."

    Dietrick sighs. "Great fear come true dens, Devlin and Theaon say no prub with serve two place, but dietrick had bad feelin, come trues nows"

    Caric adds in. "Hmm yes but you must choose"

    The hin sighs again, as if some invisible weight laid upon his heart, choking him slowly. "Is tuff caric, both weight as heavy in heart."

    Caric: "Thats why the wild will help you feelt hings deeper"

    Dietrick: "Think have answer."
    Dietrick already knew what was important, but… how to do this?

    Caric: "Be sure before you do"

    Dietrick: "but....can't do wat think is right, not when Devlin no want Dietrick to leaves."

    The memory came like a flash back...
    "I would not approve of you leaving the militia if that is what you want to ask." Devlin had said firmly, even before Dietrick uttered the words.

    Caric: "sometimes the master must let the student go so he can grow."
    This wasn't about growing, Dietrick paid little attention to this.

    Celestria: "Dietrick, no other person can tell you what is right for you. You know this. You chose to leave your home because you knew it"

    Dietrick blinked at Celestria's words. They had struck a cord….
    Suddenly the memory came back, on the day the hin had snuck out of the village, leaving his tribe, his home for the unknown. It was reckless, and illogical, simply to pursue what his heart believed. But it was the right thing. And now, isn't this similar too?

    Suddenly, the answer became clear.

    Celestria gives Dietrick a reassuring nod as the hin blinks, in thought, looking at her like she's a goddess revealing destiny to him. And perhaps, just maybe, she could be?

    Caric: <uth>you have chosen a path to follow long ago.

    Dietrick: "have fear when think how devlin will feel."
    He could not bring himself to get pass this...

    Celestria: "Devlin will be fine. He can still teach you, just not in the militia hmm?"

    Dietrick: "mm have learn everything, just dat... Devlin is mentor, and if he no approve, if leave is no respects"
    Dietrick does not want Devlin to think he does not care about his opinions.

    Caric: "respect is earned in many ways Dietrick, doing whats right for you also earns respect."
    Somehow, caric isn't on the same frequency........

    Celestria: "Devlin already knows you care, Dietrick. You have family to take care of. There is much honor in doing that, hmm?"

    Dietrick: "no family but is kin yah."

    Celestria: "Tis your family now."
    Dietrick certain hopes so.

    Caric nods.

    Dietrick continues : "norwick is home to many human, if norwick fall, have city and jiyyd to live in."

    He adds on: "but valley is da only home hin have in nars."

    Caric: "Aye"

    Celestria nods slowly, allowing him to further convince himself. Ever the wise priestess.

    Caric: "and not many there can defend it as well as you."

    Celestria: "Agreeded."

    Dietrick: "but if say closer, norwick have many frens."
    He can't bear to leave his friends, a part of him desires selfishness, to choose what's comfortable, to be in the company of his friends and not leave them.

    Dietrick: "dietrick noe many in norwick, just dat valley is where kin people live, and so dietrick want protect it."

    Caric: "True friends always remain no matter the distance."
    What caric said made sense, it doesn't mean he loses his friends if he stayed in the valley.

    Dietrick seemed like he is more enlightened at caric's words.

    Dietrick: "caric right to say dat too."

    Caric: <uth>"follow the path, follow your heart."

    Dietrick: "Celestria and caric rights, valley is where have most need fer dietrick now."

    Celestria tips her head gazing at him.
    Celestria: "Dietrick , you already know what your choice will be. You can always come back to the militia if you wish to in the future and you can alawys aid Norwick anytime."

    Caric: "Yes."

    Dietrick: "d-dietrick gonna miss celestria and all da guards alots....."
    so...this is farewell..... to the family that took him in and gave him a home.

    Dietrick: "is first home here...."

    Caric: "not that much you'll come and visit"

    Celestria: "Then Diet wil lhave to come visit." She winks. Somehow that's so celestria, and it was comforting, it is to know a fellow friend and guard approves of him, and gives her blessings.

    Dietrick: "Yah! Promise visit alots!"

    The rest of the night became lighthearted jesting between the three under the night sky on the road regarding things such as Celestria's new shining eyes and her possible ascend to become a great temple priestess.

    He had found his answer.
    **Not every warrior, is called to the same battlefield. Every one has his own calling, some may be to Norwick, some to the valley.
    However honor goes the same and lies with one so long as one is in the field he is called to.

    May Tempus live in one's heart and field, wherever it may be.**
    End</uth></uth>

  • The Halfling Defence League

    Fighting for what he sought, closer to the dream

    _The crowds cheered rowdily in the big open fields near the Crafter's Union building in the middle of Norwick. There were everyone and everythng including dwarves, humans, elves, priests, mages, warriors, garbage, but what stands out is the ring in the middle. Dietrick snuggles in and around the mostly taller crowd to squeeze in for a view. A half naked man circles the rim of the ring, awaiting his next challenger. He is unmistakably Dietrick's very own mentor, Devlin, the lieutenant of the militia guard of Norwick.

    Devlin had been on a winning streak, beating down several strong contestants. Cheers and jeers were in the air, the tauntings kept growing strong. "And who will challenge the champion of norwick?!" It was an arena battle, unplanned but all the same for the title of Champion!

    Dietrick called out "want fight Devlin yah." Perhaps he wasn't heard in the loud atmosphere. He stood there waiting.

    The crowd roars with cheers as a thin looking female walks gracefully in. None other than general Lyte of the legion! The cheers crashed upon the place like the unrelenting waves of the sea. It keeps getting louder and louder followed by a short rest and then it repeats. The cheerings simply amplify by the minute.

    Lyte had asked for challenge first.

    Devlin decided to go boxing. The rule: no magic, he was pulling no punches. Lyte walked in confidently, dressed in a boxing outfit, beautiful in that revealing outfit showing off her musculine thin arms. The match starts and the two start bashing the other up. It was a close match, each sustaining injuries at a constant pace. Devlin threw in his strength and warrior ferocity while Lyte uses special techniques that devastated Devlin with blows the hin nay seen before, all this while his eyes just grew wide. Finally, Lyte landed the final touch, herself extremely worn, it was so close, which what made it great, Dietrick's heart thumped.

    Lyte is now champion and winner of a 1000 gold bet with Devlin, taking the gold she grins confidently. She wanted to retire off but having held the winning position the crowd pressured her to stay on. Dietrick asked for challenge, how possibly could the battle-lust hin not desire a sparring with such a powerful individual such as lyte, a stick of pain giving?

    The stick figure agreeded to the challenge, and stood a moment pondering the conditions she want. She was not concerned about winning or the title, she was just joining in for the fun. Dietrick could tell when she decided to let him go full gear with a sword nearly as wide as her slender waist and her self armourless and unarmed. She would however cast blessings on herself before the battle begins however, as per the rules of this fight, the winner gets to choose the conditions of the battle.

    Dietrick however, held back by a warrior's honorary ethnics, can not raise a sword against un armed opponent unless unarmed combat is their specialty. Thus , the slender stick was insisted upon to take up her sword, and she did, sliding out a shiny katana from her side, one as slender as her. Strangely slender women have a thing for slender weapons, and the two often pairs up. The fight begins with Dietrick howling a war cry and charging towards her.

    She had enough time to get off a spell and the two begins fighting. However being un armoured, she faltered quickly against the huge blows of the sword and lost. A good fight neverthess, with her having done some nice slashes across the hin, his cloak having a few holes thanks to that.

    The hin stood in the centre of the ring, the crowd cheering all around him. What is this feeling? Of a multitude respecting, appreciating, or at least entertainined and solely focused on battle where battle, and skill at it is exalted? The spirit of fighting itself hovers in the air and continually sips into the hin, he feels a lofty high feeling both in head and body, this spirit continually fed by the constant cheering of the crowd, dying to watch more. And so Dietrick would battle to his best, not only because this is his usual pattern, but because he wanted this to continue, if he won, more challengers will come, and better warriors will be enticed, bringing in better fights, and the crowd will continue to be enticed, feeding upon this battle crazed frenzy, where battle alone is exalted high.

    In this fight ring, it wasn't about defeating the opponent, only the battle exist, and the hin fights only for that. Some person responsible begin to ask if there is anyone who will challenge the hin. The hin stood, waiting, his heart thumping. One part of him seems interested to keep the title of "champion of norwick". It seemed a neat title to keep, if this carries on where no one would answer the call of challenge, Dietrick will be champion by default. But another part childed, if a champion is one who became from battles that's close to none, what sort of champion is that. The man who stepped in next was about to change that.

    In black cloak, black outfit, slender as well, is the familiar face of Thorn the pointy ear'ed. Strangely Dietrick felt a grin on that face, although possessing no recollection of having seen it, Dietrick felt that same usual friendly grin Thorn would always wear on that face of his. Having gone through adventures together, Dietrick knows thorn is not as frail as he appears, but is competent enough at battle. Thorn is also a close friend, sorta. He would not back down or give any leeway however, it is to be a proper fight, to show one's respect, warrior style. Taking thorn seriously, Dietrick raised his sword and asked for a normal, fully armed duel.

    "GO!" is heard and Dietrick howled his war cry and charged towards thorn. His sword raised high he clashes it down on the squishy looking elf. Thorn dodged and tumbled sideways and springed towards Dietrick. Thorn was fast, able to unleash attacks at an alarming rate, so FAST that a blink of the eye would totally miss the blades that were flashing like lightning. It looked like a fury of kama whirling around at the halfling. Dietrick's eyes widened but kept his cool, being very experienced he blocks and fend off the attacks with his large blade.

    Dietrick blocked and blocked, sweat flowing down his forehead as he kept at defence, awaiting an opportunity while holding the blizzard like blows of the kamas off. After observing for a short while, and memorizing Thorn's attack patterns Dietrick began his counterattack. Dodging the blows by recalling when Thorn will attack and once the opporunity presented itself by when Thorn paused for a breath, Dietrick swinged out the giant sword. Thorn was surprised! He had barely caught his breath and was forced to tumble out of the way, but another swing of the sword came right away and he was forced to make another leapt.

    Down and down again and again Dietrick's sword attacked relentlessly as Thorn slowly lost his balance and breath. Dietrick used all the stamina and breath he had been holding in to unleash a series of deadly giant swings as the elf is cut and slashed, having lost the momentum of battle. The surprise and lost of cool simply made Thorn blunder more and open himself more.

    Dietrick swings the large sword to gash across his body, spilling tons of squisy blood on the grass and sometimes, the blood actually falls on the dress of some random female fans of his who watch in disgust.

    The fight ends shortly, Thorn lost and left the ring with good humour. The hin pats him with good fun for their show of swordsmanship, and awaits the next comer.

    The next one was a stouty dwarf with much bravery. The fight begins with the two swinging weapons at each other. The dwarf attempted knock downs on the hin. Possessing very disciplined soldier like fighting style. The dwarf manages to force a leg to trip the hin, the hin however had strong will and discipline and manages to keep his balance, making full use of the dwarf who left himself opened completely after his attempt at the combat maneuveur, Dietrick ended him off with a as much of a force he could muster, putting every ounch of strength in the swing as he could like his life counted on it. The sword flowed in an upwards stroke, gliding smoothly across the dwarf's body, it was so quick that only by the time the stroke ended with the sword in the air that blood just suddenly filled the eyes of the audience. Thus ended the dwarf's play in one fell stroke so terrible the children might suffer nightmares and be banned from watching violent matches in future.

    NEXT!

    A tanned elf in armour steps into the ring. This would be a worthy fight as the two were of the same kindred spirit. Both were covered with tatoos obviously revealing tribal origins, even howling in the same manner as the two charged towards each other with the same ferocity. They taunted each other, causing both to be angry and leaving openings for each other. Between the thin and skinny and the short and kinky, chips of armour and blood flies out in the air as the two tear each other apart with ferocity seen only in an angry boar deprived of mating with its spouse. The scene looked like a baby Maya tearing bits of biscuits and flunking them into the air during a fit.

    A most glorious and honory moment as two of a kind clash, as the cliche "there can only be one" line goes, the hin butted off the elf.

    The next battle was an interesting one possibly because it had been going on for really long already!

    The challenger is one of the hardy gypsy romani warriors, renowned for their hardiness and ways of keeping to their own. He wears the customary pink gypsy romani warrior's uniform and a helmet on his head. Dietrick learns he is Aelthas later, the seemingly arrogant captain of the pink armbanded "pristmatic dragon" gypsy warriors. Dietrick have long respected the romani gypsies for their honorable and strong ways. He could sense the strength within this one and thus tilted the battle towards himself by opting to drink a strength potion before the battle begins, of course having not known who he was facing at that time.

    What came next was a battle of concentration. The two engaged in a parry style fight. The two simply swinged and swinged but none hitting the other at all mostly, both adopting a defensive approach and blocking or dodging the other's attacks. The much more experienced Aelthas was slowly winning at his game of concentration and defending, occassionally hitting Dietrick when the hin was off guard by his taunts.

    Dietrick had to think fast, or this battle may quickly be over in Aelthas' favour, he had taken more blows now and if the same sequence carry on he will lose, he must do something, fast. He was obviously no match for Aelthas game, what can he do then?

    What can a warrior do against a foe superior? What else! Fight to the best as a warrior worthy to be called one! As one would have it then Dietrick threw aside all efforts at defence and begins going aggressive on Aelthas, banging him hard on all sides as the gypsy put up his shield to block block and block trying to keep up with his change of strategy and sequence. Aelthas was taken aback and had no time to react, leaving himself backed and trying to block the onslaught of the menacing sword banging on him from all sides as the hin tries again, and again, harder and harder each time, occasionally getting a big chunk off Aelthas. And Aelthas could not find a chance to strike back but is stranded to shield off the attacks, Dietrick wouldn't let him counterattack as he advanced nearer and nearer, keeping up with a kamikaze style offence. Expectedly, Aelthas lost. It was an interesting fight nevertheless, showing skill that awed the crowd on both sides as the crowd cheered.

    The halfling flopped down on the ground resting, he was worn, the spirit was willing, but the flesh is tired. He pants and watches the crowd as a familiar face surfaces from amongst them. It was none other than his mentor, asking for a challenge.

    Emotion ran through the halfling, this was the man who trained him, teaching him how to handle the blade, how to swing it, all the combat stances, even his very best and own special moves, as well as the militia rules and all about Tempus. He is Devlin, newly appointed lieutenant of the Norwick militia. It seems he had recovered from his fight with Lyte and is looking for some payback perhaps.

    The two looked at each other, there was no hostility, being so familiar with each other now. Even though it is to be a duel, it felt just like another practice sparring sessions to Dietrick. This fight felt strange and special to Dietrick. To raise one's sword in attempt to best the one who trained you, the one who watched you grow is….. an awkward feeling.

    Dietrick contemplated a moment, he looked at Devlin. He wants to give his best, not because he wants to surpass his mentor, but because he wants to show his mentor how much he has grown, how much he has improved, how well he had taught, how right he was, he wanted to make him proud of him. He wanted to prove his maturity.

    Heartily Dietrick sat to rest, and asked for time to recover his strength, he will fight Devlin at his fullest, his heart beating every second, crying for blood like the time with Maya. Dietrick was not afraid, he knows Devlin would not be the sort who would be angry if he bested him or anything, in fact he might even be happy, Devlin is an honorable warrior who respects strength and valor.

    Moments later....

    A breeze went pass , Dietrick's ivory horn sounded off at Devlin. A thundering magical resonance that might have shatter the mind of those of weak will blasted down on both of them. By this time, there were only a handful of watchers, it is late, and nearly morning, most of whom have left for bed, indulged in enough entertainment given them by the battlers who fought hard.

    Devlin had made a charge while Dietrick blew the horn, the resonance affected both as the echo returns as Devlin was already nearly at the hin when the horn was sounded. Perhaps strongly determined on both sides, none were affected except for the strong force created by the loud noise. Dietrick drew up his sword meeting with a spark against Devlin's onslaught. The two looked fiercely at each other as they forced each other's sword towards against each other, neither giving way as they grit their teeth.

    Almost instantly both pulled back only to have swords meet again at the same time and their swords continued to clash clash and clash, sending sparks all over. Next followed death threats to distract the other and the two begin chopping each other up, going fully aggressive without much thought for defence, having gone berserk and aggressive at each others' insults. Chips of armour flew and blood splattered across the air onto the grass. It was intense, fast, and hard, both breathing heavily as they gashed their swords relentlessly. Finally, one fell.

    Dietrick gasped for air on the ground, Devlin standing over to help him up. Both carried a smile. It was a very close fight with Devlin winning only by a hit. Compliments were exchanged and Dietrick laid one side as Aelthas challenged Devlin. They fought and Dietrick watched. It ended with Aelthas defeated. Devlin now stood, unchallenged.

    Dietrick challenged again. He wouldn't have it lying down as he knew it was only by a margin, to not give up, yes to not accept being beaten down yet but to carry on the fight, it is the warrior's way! Jonir healed Dietrick, his wounds closed totally, and he hops up into the ring again, after being accepted by Devlin for one, final , fight. This is, the finale.

    Dietrick is left with only one last breath for a final war cry, his strength sapped partially in the previous battle. If he is to win, he will need more than just wild swings, but a strategy.

    Knowing Devlin will likely rage at the start, which he did, Dietrick went as he planned and react as he expected Devlin would, charging against him as Devlin howled for to get off sneaky chop attack at one of his vital spots. Releasing the breathe from his lungs , his body lurched outwards, Dietrick gave Devlin a good stab at his side where his kidney is, blood splurt out as Devlin groaned a bit at the wicked pain. Next he decided to taunt Devlin, Devlin following suit.

    Devlin is now on the high and aggressive having just raged, hitting relentlessly at Dietrick, possibly to get back at the pain. Dietrick however decided to go defensive, using both hands holding the sword to block off the blows, although several still passed through his defensive stance under the bloodlust of the angry animalistic like Devlin hitting widlly. Keeping his cool, he simply tries his best to block off as many at the same time getting off nice hits at the many times Devlin opens himself. Taking advantage of Devlin's present aggressive rage whereby he ignores defence to go on full offence.

    Then midway in the fight, as the two have sustained considerable injuries, Dietrick howls his way cry and decides to unleash his full fury with all the stamina he has been saving, slashing vigorously at Devlin who by this time, has slower reaction time due to his injuries and fatigue from having spent a sizable portion of his stamina. Devlin could only try his best at offence which is failing against a strategized counterattack by the hin, in short time, Devlin lost, by a margin as well.

    The two pant like having not breathe before. Dietrick helps Devlin up. Devlin looked with a grin at the hin and congratulated him. Bringing a warm feeling to Dietrick's heart, things are still the same yet... a little different, maybe he has grown more than he had realized Dietrick wonders. But more importantly, someone close to him recognizes and credits him for his fighting strength, which have obviously grown. Words between a mentor and disciple is passed and both were left to their rest.

    Some moments later...

    Dietrick sits by the fire in town drinking with fellow tribal Caric. It is a night of life changing revolution. No longer just a warrior, he has become a warrior known now, Dietrick had won the title of Champion of Norwick, and possibly the first champion who is tiny ever! Now famed, as he had always dreamed of , it will be difficult from now to not acknowledge his strength.

    It was what he had always wanted, to have his identity as a warrior acknowledged. Perhaps sooner but nevertheless good, his dream is at long last fulfilled, being very drunk from having drunk more than he ever did without pause, the hin falls into deep slumber. Perhaps to dream of becoming a famous warrior again? As like most of his dreams are of usually, this time however the dream made more reality, than just a fictional dream. The hin carries the same silly smile on his face, scratching his legs near his crotch a bit as what might be the sound of snoing is heard, with a bit of drool flowing down the side of his mouth._

  • The Halfling Defence League

    A warrior's fantasy of Battle Maidens

    _The battle axe is slowly coming down upon him, like calamity upon the world. He falls. He lays there on the ground. The hin doesn't usually feel good being defeated, but this time he is. Long has the lips of many tell of a great battle maiden in service of the great God of War Tempus, Lord of Battle. Such awe , he is undeserving. Long have Dietrick trained, honing himself as a warrior, for the one day where he could prove himself true, that he is , indeed, a warrior. His thoughts went back to a distant past….

    That day felt like yesterday. She had said to him "maybe if dietrick is as big as her..." It cut him. He always admired her, respected her greatly... For her to say that...

    Tis was after a war with demons at the south. They were en route back to Norwick. Dietrick told Maya she is great warrior, hoping maybe someday he will be as good as her. It was a merely a passing comment by her, "maybe if dietrick is as big as her". It however was a dampen upon his spirits, a piercing sword through the very beliefs he has been fighting for: it isn't the strength of one's arm that makes one a warrior, but the boldness to be fearless in one's heart". He has always been fighting, just for this, to prove that he can be a warrior, so long as he has the heart of one.

    It had been seasons. The hurt of that day he had long put aside. Though he always remembered, and always desired to prove himself someday to her, to… have her acknowledge him too. After all, with the exception of Tempus, she is his role model, great in battle, brave with honor, and is a favoured of Tempus himself, the very God he wish his life finishes by dying for in his service. He wants to be seen as a warrior equal withstanding in her eyes.

    And this day, this dream will be fulfilled. It was asked in casual yet a serious request. The next moment, the two were squaring off against each other on the deserted roads leading to Spellweaver Keep. There they both stood facing each other, the battle had already begun in their minds. Her heart was serious, he could feel it, she honors him, she sees him as equal. To a warrior, when one would stand toe to toe and agree to a duel with you, it meant he treats you as a worthy adversary. One is honored when the other accepts his offer for a warrior's duel.

    His heart was still, yet pumping fast excitedly. He will give all his best to defeat her. He dreamt of this many a times, when he will finally stand a chance to duel with one of the very best, the glorious tempus' battle maiden of narfell! Oh how his heart leapt, he could hear his very sword scream to chip away at her armour to get at the battle seasoned flesh underneathe. To have her blood stain on his sword will be a great honor, he knows. He could feel her too, that she respects and takes him seriously, she will no doubt fight as proper, though she will not let Tempus into her, knowing Dietrick will be paper shreds if she even allows the divine supernatural into this battle. This is to be a warrior's battle to honor both, not a battle to slay an enemy that needs be put down. Thus Tempus was left to play with Deiros and Veiros instead.

    His heart leapt as the final blow as struck, Maya won. It was a fair and honorable fight. Her skill is indeed as the tales speak of. She had given her best, and he was defeated honorably by skill and bravery of a warrioress more true to the warrior ways than he is. At the same time, he won. He is finally more of a warrior, to her and to himself._

  • The Halfling Defence League

    The enemy he kissed
    He had just cleaved through a party of robbers. They surrounded him, tried to intimidate him by their sheer number and death threats, armed with short swords, each trying to get a stab in while he faced another.

    With great swings of his sword, each of them fell quickly, sometimes two at a an instance. Dietrick is certainly not amateur to battle, at least no more, his heart harboured no fear, his heart beat only with the thumming of the battle drum, with each beat of the rhythm, his sword swings. Blood spill in the air from the great gashes across the bodies of the bandits. They laid dead at his feet. He hardly took a scratch. The woman behind him rushed forward to retrieve items from a bag on the ground. This was his purpose, aceding to the request of a victim who's bag was stolen by bandits, to help her take back what was rightfully hers. "Thank you." she said as they walked back north, "nub prub" the hin replied.

    She went off her own way afterwhich, Dietrick continues travelling north, out of the plains to the long road leading to Jiyyd. The sky hangs high, it was blue and clear, he remembered that was the time he met her. A loud cry was heard "Nyaaaa!!!!"

    Dietricks' blood flowed quickly to the top of his head, gripping the handle of his sword tight, his eyes looked to where the cry came from.

    Coming from the east, what looked to be a halfling girl charged towards him, armed. An accomplice perhaps? He turns to face her, sword up. "Firen or foe?!" his voice quick with the sharpness of a blade to it.

    "Foe!" she giggled. A fearsome foe this be he thought! Giggling in the midst of a death row… she must be strong.

    It is a duel then. "you miss, so dietrick allow prepare" he say.

    "What?" was her reply.

    "why want attack dietrick? who you?"

    "I'm a terrible highway robberess!"

    "want rob dietrick?"

    "I steal from the rich and give to poor me!"

    What's she say? What she want? He thought to himself, opens his mouth and asks. "ehh, wats a highway robberess?"

    "..... I steal from the rich and give to poor me!" was her answer.

    Perhaps some cunning and guile could resolve this. He attempts at it, and asks "ehhh dietrick poor, kin dietrick join yos?"

    "I don't know! Ya gotta prove yourself!"

    "take up sword dens!"

    He charged towards her, sword raised high coming swiftly down. She blocks it in time with a shield raised atop her to meet the giant sword clashing down on her like a maelstorm. The heavy sword backed with great strength pressed down however, causing her to take in a deep gasp of air as she tries holding the shield trying to support that weight. Then she felt the weight lift, shifts the shield out and swings that flail on her right hand outwards to the left. It smashes against the golden like , fine crafted brass plate of the halfling warrior. The warrior however takes no bother with harm taken, but is already swinging the sword in midair as it cuts to the right of the female halfing, slashing across her lower torso, blood spilling into the air.
    He is fast, so was she, in terms of the rate they swang their weapons. He was however obviously better trained, his attacks more precise, seemingly knowing virtually where she would be unguarded and striking there, aiming with deadly precision. He was stronger too, and that size of a blade made it worse. And better equipped, even when she managed to get in a swing, that fine crafted suit of plate mail enshrouding his entire body simply demoralized her.
    They clashed against each other on the sides of the long road, strangely deserted those few hours, leaving the two to their deadly duel. Within moments she had sustained great injuries, multiple deep gashes on her body, he suffered no minor injuries either, big bruises and bleeding on his body, though he was obviously having the upperhand. She tried disarming him, using techniques she knew, cutting him and hitting at his hand, forcing him to drop the weapon.
    The shouting of his militia superiors, Cyrian... Devlin... came to his mind as he sqims, gritting his teeth. Those militia trainings and how he had overcame those drills made him held to his sword tighter, knowing if he dropped it, it could be his death.
    Focusing, he continued to strike at her, manging to score a few more blows. She ran, her blood all over the grass now. She was nearly done, he could tell. The prey ran to the trees, trying to escape. As he closed in, he unleashed the fury of bloodlust learned since he was young within his tribe. Charging at her with a fury desiring to swing at her relentlessly to watch all her blood gash out.
    She did the same, entering a similar murderous fury. A tribewoman too? Her? His mind didn't linger on that for over a split second, his mind only had her blood in mind as he clashed his sword against her again. Then she taunted him, calling him names and such. Dietrick got distracted and dropped his guard, and she got a few blows in. Dietrick followed suit, taunting her as well and she fell for it.

    Then it came, he knew this would be the final blow. "Now!" His mind screams as his large sword held backwards came clashing from high up down towards her. Looking wide at what could be her demise, she made a quick but accurate kick of the hilt from below with her left foot. The sword flew out of his hands. In that same attack blow, reacting quickly to the disarm, his arm continued forward, his hands turning into a fist, still holding that initial full force of the attack. It sinks straight into the side of her helmet, a loud thung! as she fell to the ground. The sword flying in mid air pierces into the ground behind him.

    She laid on the ground, is she dead?

    "tuff un" he says , panting hard, he walks nearer to the unconscious figure. Still alive , he could tell.

    As naturally as things would go, he bends down to unmask her.

    "huh? is hin" he speaks, in shock.

    He attempts to carry her on both arms, her angelic face in a pout as she lies down, blacked out. He was however exhausted from battle and his arms would not carry, too heavy for the weary arms at the moment. He lays her down instead.

    "huh, dietrick too tired". He sighs and takes off helmet, shakes his hair out, gasping for air.

    He looks at her, trying to recognize her face wondering if he seen her before. ((cloud rolled cha of 18+2=20)) She was beautiful! He stared at her face, a little taken aback by her beauty.

    "what to dos...mmm" he ponders and decides to disarm her, which he does, confiscating all her weapons.

    He looks at the weapons. "huh shud dietrick put her in norwick behind steel bar?" Who is she anyway? He thinks for a bit. Dietrick is experienced at battle, but not quite as good as deciding what should be done most of the time. Then he decided it best to try to find out more.
    He bends down and actually tries to press on her wounds, taking out some bandages to wrap around at her wounds.
    Foe is defeated anyway, there is no need to finish her, as she does not have much ability to put up resistance at this point, maybe.

    "OWW" she groans. As the wounds are all over her body, he does get his hands pass sensitive areas once or a bit as he quickly bandages her all over, applying to her wounds. She giggles a bit, still unconscous though.
    As much as he tries to concentrate, he can't help but be slightly distracted from touching her at certain parts in the process, his face turning red as he frantically tries to save her, which means touching her more furiously.
    "That tickles Zoma!" she speaks in her sleep.

    In a kneeling posture over, bandaging her, he massages the side of her head on one temple with his right hand. Her eyes flutter open slowly.
    "yo alives!" she bounces up. He was glad she lived, even though she's an enemy.

    "no walks too muchs"
    "hey! you hurts"

    She looks in shock. "who hit me?" she asked.

    He looks confused a little and replies "huh? no rememba?" This could be a good chance to trick her he thought.

    "er enemy hit yos" he replied quickly, his mind alive with wit.

    "uhuh.. One of them dark gnomes!"

    "whos you? tell me name" Dietrick says, his face still red, his heart contorted with mix feelings from the incident of having touched a female halfling.

    "Umm." She hops up. "Cloudberry Tealeaf, cousin of Ginger. A Guardian of Brigandia, and Ragnhild's tinysister!"

    "uh oh..."he said quietly. Now those names were famous adventures of the nars, powerful ones, this could get messy... he won't be pressurized however, and will do what's right.

    "er nub er..."

    "Huh?"

    "nice meet cloud berry, me dietrick" he says , a bit nervous, she is the enemy.

    "Hiya!"

    "heya"

    "You look a bit familiar, we met somewhere?"

    "uhh cloud no remembas huh?"

    "Nuhuh?"

    She is the enemy, this must end eventually. He puts his sword at her neck.

    "yo robber, or sumting, try steal furm dietrick." He looks at her sternly.

    "oh, i know that sword!" she giggles, "I saw it when i swinged it off..."

    "NYAAAA!!!" she cries out as she shoves the blade aside and runs.

    She hardly ran much before falling over due to the bandages all over her.
    How lame she is, what kind of bandit is she? Dietrick thought as he walked slowly over to her, sighing.

    He ties her up, both legs and arms. "wakes up nows." He glares seriously at her. She must be dealt with, he thought. "Cloud?"

    "Nuhuh." she closes her eyes as he was trying to find out what's wrong with her. She begins to stabbornly sleep. Dammit! Dietrick thought to himself, as he folds his arms staring down at her, trying to be patient, you're not sneaking away... He simply watches her as she snores away.

    She awakes. "cloud ready talks now?" He looks at her flatly. She wiggles over to her back. Dietrick shakes his head, bends down and dusts off the dirt on her back and sets her to sit upright, adjusting her so she sits comfortably. No ill treats prisoner of war, he thought.

    "You're a nastie!" She snaps at him like a hungry cat.

    Unbothered and determined, he speaks strongly
    "if dietrick bads, dietrick kick clouds till cloud tells"

    "And I don't wanna be tied up!"

    Childish enemy, he thought. "or cut head off, get gold frum town"
    "you foe, if is not hin, dietrick twist sword when sword in body in battle."

    "Hmh!" She puts up a strong front.

    She is the enemy. "TALK!" He shouts at her.

    "You're nasty!"

    Dietrick tries to flex up his shoulders, forcing as much blood and anger to his face, looking fierce and nasty and all, he tries to intimidate her into talking.

    She however resists the fear and furrows brows and narrows her eyes at him.

    "Why? why steal frum peoples?!"

    "NO LIKE YOU!" she shouts!

    Cloud tries to ferociously open her binds, twisting her hand hard, the rope is tied tightly. She hacks them against Dietrick's spike armour, again and again! He glares at her with a little shock, surprised by that desperatism to escape despite her pathetic position now. He watches as she cuts her binds.

    Why this she of a halfling... He clenches his fist and punches her up, using Devlin's sneaky chop attack, he punches hard into vital parts of her body as she gets up to run. She coughs up blood as his strong fist sink deep into her stomach. Determined and as the blood still flew out in the air, she sprints.

    With deep wounds and near death, she runs and runs. Dietrick ran after her, but realizes quickly she is as fast as him. He draws the bow slinged across his back, and in a quick notion has notched an arrow aiming at her back. She was running in a straight direction, he releases the first shot. The arrow sinks into her back as she lutches forward a bit from the impact, still running. The second arrow flew, sinks in, she coughs out blood into the air. His eyes were keen, his heart unwavering, after taking a deep breathe and a short pause for his strength to recover, he releases the third shot and it pierces through her, and she flew a little from the impact and crashes into the grass.

    He walks over to the she halfling, she was crawling on the floor. He stares at her with steely eyes. "me put in jail dis time."
    "Heeelpp...." she calls out , a desperate voice as she crawls slowly, pulling herself over the grass , her blood soaking the grass red.

    he continues to speak "but no think is militia of this part"
    in response of her cry for help "if want ask thief friend, dietrick kills nows" He will not allow her reinforcements from her bandit friends.

    She tries to speak out words, gasping for air as she tries with all her might to pull herself little inches across the grass, her wounds now open and blood flowing furiously.
    "i'm... not...a thief...dumbie..."

    Dietrick may be a little silly, but he doesn't believe himself that foolish.
    "thief lie too, what make dietrick believe?"He watches the defeated foe, watching her closely and warily.

    With great effort, she picks herself up to stand in front of him.
    "if i wanted to steal, i could do it like this."

    Dietrick didn't pay much attention to the crest fallen defeated foe. He speaks in effort to expose her deception
    "you going steal, but lose in battle, if win, dietrick lose sword, and life."

    Then what came next was beyond any of his anticipations, he was not prepared for what is coming....

    Cloud begins to snap her left hand's fingers up in front of Dietrick a few times. He froze. His heart turned cold and dead as he stared in horror.
    "Stop!" He shouts, she continues to snap her fingers, ignoring him. A chill came down his spine as he uses force to grab her hand to stop her. With his other hand, he brings out bandages and casts to attempt to apply first aid and whatever healing he could to her fingers, bandaging her hand furiously.
    She did this to spike me? To prove she isn't a thief? I am wrong?
    These thoughts raced through his mind as he did it, all that was on his mind at the moment was to save her hand and hope her hands will be fine. So much that he hadn't noticed her use her other hand into his pack stealing one of his apples, she takes a bite out of the apple.

    "yos mads!" he yells at her.

    "How long ya had this anyhow?" she asked.

    His mind just got relieved, knowing her fingers will be heal in time and no serious harm, taking some deep breathes in. He hadn't taken in what she said yet.
    "okay okay dietrick no hurt, pease stop hurt self, dietrick feel bads now."
    A deep sense of guilt filled his heart, what was he doing to the poor female halfling to force her to exact such cruelty on herself?! This was never part of his intentions.

    "huh? what what?" he caught his breath and replies.

    She takes another bite of the apple.

    He suddenly notices the apple on her hand.

    "Ain't very fresh."

    His face turns dumb founded a bit before he starts to speak, his eyes seem to mellow down now as he does. His heart began to soften, feeling for her for what he thought she was doing.

    "you steal cuz want food?"

    "Uhh.. yea"

    He hands her all his apples. "Dietrick give all apple, is nub much but is all, pease no hurt self anymore cloud"

    "And I was kinda just' playin' around.. didn't think one of my own would like, beat me up.."
    She beams at the apples offered to her and grabs them all.

    "Thanks!"

    He doesn't know if to believe her, he had no reason to, but he knows he already lost the will to kill her.
    "nub noes if cloud talk real, but dietrick honor warrior fight fer tempus, no want beat girl wit no able fight back"

    She grins.

    That deep pinching and aching in his heart persisted, guilt-stricken. He no longer felt the hostility towards her, but felt something for her, perhaps pity. He wanted not to kill her.
    "pease no make dietrick fight anymore, is pain in heart." It was a burden to kill her now.

    "its alright, I like fightin'!"

    "Dietrick spar anytime, but no make threat,"
    "and NO hurt self"

    "Okay!"

    He sighs a sigh of relief. Taking out of one those sin berries he bought from the dark city, he puts the seed to her lips. "eat"

    "such symbolism.. ew."

    He isn't playing games here, he is worried for her.
    "is fear bout' cloud hole in body"

    she eats merrily and he feeds her. She felt like a princess!
    He sheathes his sword across his back, there was no need to resort to it now.

    "Gimem another one!" He puts another one to her lips. She opens mouth like a little bird. As she eats them, the wounds on her body begins to close and her bleeding stops.

    "feel betta?"

    "Yay, yummy!"

    "So err..." she asks...

    He pats her injured hand, looking at it.

    "What else got ya for me?" she grins

    He smiles seeing her grin, the air between them has become friendly. His eyes now turn alight with wit as he would thinking of pranks towards friends. Trying to be naughty, let's see who's the naughty one, his heart leap as he thought to himself.

    "dietrick ave many thing, but nub noe if cloud really want see"

    "Oh, no? Oh woe." She pouts.

    "huh?" what's she saying, what's woe?

    She giggles, maybe at his silliness? "Ya ain't really followin eh?"

    "nub"

    "umm... Where's my weapons?!" she exclaimed

    "on dietrick pack"

    "i need em! i am heroine!" she sniff sniff and giggles. What is she? an actress?

    He hesitates. "yo attack dietrick and traveller....." she is a robber afterall.

    ".....naah."

    "give word of honor?" he asked. He wanted to make sure she will not attack others or him the instant she gets those back.

    He looks at her flatly when she turns giggling suddenly.

    "it was you who attacked me" she wink wink at him.

    Fair enough he thought to himself, she has a point.
    "aaaa........ okie dietrick sorry" He brings out the weaons and hands them back to her.

    "but yo no make funny like dat, dietrick nub noe if real thief or nots."

    "well now you know!" she beams.

    She is manipulating my feelings? He thought. "you big meanie!" he says in a playful tone.

    "Meanie? I'm smaller than you!"

    "you make dietrick fear and pain in heart when break finger, dat no fun"

    she giggles and gives him a kiss on the cheek. The immensely shocked hin's eye blinks and open wides, his face flushing furiously with a burning red.

    "Dum di dum di dum" she hymns playfully. "I hear your heart pounding!"

    Dietrick turns silent, trying to keep mum but his lips seem to be trying to surpress a silly smile. What is this feeling? Feels like over the moon. Feels like a hard won victory in battle, but not quite the same... Feels like wanting more...

    "Cloud lie!" he yaps.

    "So i guess it ain't achin'?" she teases.
    Why such a naughty girl, I'll have to play it back Dietrick thinks.

    "No hear, heart in body."

    "I have good ears!" She tries to sound confident.

    "Cloud lie! Dietrick only believe if cloud put head to chest ere'..." He points at the spot in his chest where the heart lies.

    Cloud does so! Putting her head against his chest listening.

    "Yep, there it pounds."

    Unaware that she has fallen into his trap, the grinning Dietrick wrap his arms around her to hug.

    "It's okay, it ain't broken... Wah! Clever plan!"

    "Is trap for enemy!" He laughs, arms still around her, pulling her closer.

    "I'm not enemy." She wrinkles her nose at him.

    "Nub!"

    "You are!" she says.

    "reallie? Dietrick torture dens!" Dietrick begins to tickle Cloud at her sides.

    "nuh-" she giggles. She tries resisting, but fails.

    "Stooopiiittt" she pleads.

    "Surrender nows huh?" A triumphant grin on his face, he stops after a bit.

    Who knows how, but perhaps she could enter his mind? Dietrick hears a word "BOO!" in his mind.

    Ever the wary warrior, he turns. "Who der?" Failing to notice the giggling cloud behind who has turned to run off in the other direction into the trees.

    After turning back, he catches no sight of her anywhere.

    "Cloud? Cloud?!" Slightly worried, he walks about the area, eventually nearer towards her hiding place.

    "Cloud?" he beckons, getting worried.

    The stress of his mind compels him great concentration in his watch. ((Spot check: 20+-1=19)) He spots her hiding in the bushes.

    "CLOUD!"

    "Meeep!"

    She begins running, he follows.

    She was as fast, so as he closes in, he pounces towards her.
    Cloud dexteriously dodges however and he falls onto the ground with a thump! He quicikly picks himself up and chases again. She was running towards the southern fields.

    "no cloud no goes der!" he cries out. What was she thinking? That part is filled with ruthless scavengers who won't think a second to murder travellers for loot. There are savage beasts that feed on the carcasses of the dead as well. It is a place of sickness and death. He fears, as the both of them were still badly injured from the battle against each other and hardly recovered much. She ignores his cries.

    Too late. SHe has entered the fields of the dead. His fighting will and spirit shoots up as he follows, charging into the battlefield ready to kill all that would threaten her.

    She ran across the field, and up the hill. Fool! what was she thinking. At the top, Cloud was quickly trapped. Ambushed! There had been scavengers sneaking behind her, and now those are the top closes in on her front, they surrounded her and she fights them.
    Dietrick quickly charges in, reaching to his back he unsheathes the great sword there and charging in with a swipe. He cuts furiously at them from their back, using what his mentor Devlin had taught him, the sneaky chop attack, he slices them hard at their vital points, severing limps and heads off. Despite their injuries, his far superior skills quickly felled the bandits.

    Once the battle ended however as Dietrick was looking out and fighting remaining bandits who have come out of their hiding on the hills, Cloud ran further east, towards the old orc fortress.

    Dammit! He thought, putting in more force to his blows and going fast, felling the bandits quickly and giving chase.

    "Dangerous! no goes der!" She ignores.

    There they were. Battling across the fields. No good! The enemies here are tougher. The cats jumped at cloud, tearing at her. Ignoring the pain of his wounds, Dietrick slashes at those attacking her, then the dogs trying to bite, though having great difficulty bypassing the thick plates on Dietrick.

    "Dangerous if fight on, cloud holes many!" They pause for a minute. He examines her body wounds meticulously. She is now nearly done, Dietrick could tell her body would not be able to hold on much longer.

    "Uhh.. feelin' sleepy.." she moans.

    He grabs her hand, ((Strength Check: 20+4=24)) holding it tightly within his firm grip. She tries resisting ((Strength Check: 4+2=6)), but was too weak at this point to resist him. He pulls her.

    "Meep.." she moans again.

    "Cloud Dietrick's nows, will go wit me."

    Pulling her from behind him with one arm tightly, and the other holding his sword downwards, he moves towards a small alcove near the fortresss entrance.

    With a murderous look, he cuts down any with one sword on his arm while the other still holding her hand.

    He walked in front of her slightly to the right in a shielding manner, his tattered cloak flowing behind him with the chill wind of the war hardened plain.

    They walked towards the alcove. His face carrying a dark expression. He wanted to protect her, he will kill to do so.

    The orcs guarding the entrance were taken aback, not expecting a murderous monster to charge right out of the corners and cut them down gruesomely. They were quickly dispatched.

    He entered first. Spikes protrude from the ground and stabbed him. She came in next.

    "trap der. See? Any?" he warns.

    She looked. "Nuh huh?"

    "it poke dietrick, mebe gones now."
    He helms off, shifting his head.

    He walks towards her, and lifts her helm off slowly. He puts one hand to her face, finger rubbing her cheek.
    "Cloud alrites?"

    "Uh-huh" She smiles.

    "wat cloud doin running into dangerous plain wen hurt?" He lectures.

    "Dietrick no want cloud die." He says it in a childish demanding manner.

    "Well..." She shifts. "I knew there was a cave here..."

    "uh huh, and how noe dietrick bring cloud here?" he inquires.

    "Yup"

    "UH HUH! so run arund, make dietrick and cloud bad hurts so force dietrick bring cloud ere?" his mind quickly figuring it out, feeling both furious yet heightened at the same time.

    "Yep!" She grins.

    "Why?"

    "i'm sleepy.." completely avoiding the question she did.

    "dietrick toos..." now that she mentioned it... he was exhausted as well, from all the running and battles in a day, it was evening now.

    ((PG 13 on!))
    –-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    He looks at her silently for a while.

    "let's sleep!" she says.

    "dietrick no noes if kin hold honor anymores..." he was feeling hot, since she revealed the whole thing was a set up to lure him here...

    He looks intently into her eyes.
    "cloud... like put net arund dietirck heart... and keep pull..." he says softly.

    Cloud looked all happy and innocent at this point.

    "cloud like dietrick? dietrick nub city folk or like aramuil read book, only noe feel in heart."

    "You're a warrior!"

    "ya, dietrick is, why?"

    "Don't warriors like, drag women to cave on their shoulders?"

    He tries to look pass her, holding himself. Being alone in a cave with her isn't helping...

    "I mean, its all neat like." she continues.

    "only if mate like them" he replies.

    She humms and starts preparing a bed fit for two at a cosy corner.

    "warrior ave honor, no make woman wit no like in heart sleep wit' em' "
    He is breathing heavily now. What to do? Tempus like it? Dietrick no control wells. Is feel hot, hot inside, all over, want touch , want hug cloud. No! no try think anything. His thoughts running wild inside him.

    "Oh hush now. Just sleep!" she chides him.
    That ignited his boiling point. Transforming him into a mindless beast incapable of thought, his hormones taking charge.

    He walks to her and pulls her cloak down forcefully.

    She lays on the bed, looking all barbarian.

    He turns a little more aggressive now, breathing hard. He starts undressing her, bending down as she lays on the bed and he goes over her.

    She giggles and slaps his hands a bit. His breathing heavy, continues to do so, using more force to do so ignoring her slap.

    She prods one of his wounds to get his attention. He stops suddenly, as if "awoken".

    "ow!" he winces from the pain. His breathing starts to slow a bit.

    "Ya know, we're gonna bleed out. So I think we should just like, sleep sleep?"

    Then he shakes his head a bit, trying to catch hold of his senses.

    She pulls him next to her.

    He looks into her eye, wondering what she is going to do next. He seems quiet. But his eyes reveal alot of thoughts going through his mind.

    She takes off her armour, then starts unwrapping his. She wraps her legs around him, resting her head against his chest, and pulls the cloak up as a blanket.

    "Now sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!"

    "erm"

    She smiles and closes her eyes.

    "cloud put some wrap first?" She did not even thought of the tactical situation they're in, they are still badly injured and they are going to waste away rest time without bandaging their wounds. She is fast asleep however and he was too happy to care about such.

    "uhh nuthing" he says, himself the only one awake still.

    As the soft body begins to warm him atop, his eyes slowly close, sinking into a soft silent slumber, his lips curling as he does so.

    [a little more but i'm ending it here… -.-]

  • The Halfling Defence League

    Training to be different makes the difference
    He may have a strong heart, and a warrior spirit, however these are not enough to make Dietrick a strong warrior yet. There is still the factor of how well he can truly fight physically, and it is no denial that his small size limits him. Dietrick is not silly however, despite the lack of education, he is an intelligent hin, likely inheriting the traits from his halfling heritage.

    It started when Magistrate Barrim instructed the hin on how he may wield two handed swords well. Starting out with only a simple longsword, Dietrick tried out Barrim's tip on training at stance posture. Learning to widen one's legs followed by working on the right footing and using one's legs to support the swinging of the sword.

    Dietrick tried for days, standing by the hills at the city, swinging the sword whilst the main focus was gaining the right footing and being stable. True enough, Dietrick swinged the longsword better and better. He does this continually day in and out, alternatively on rest days he does odd jobs in the city for simple coins to live by. He was determined, he knows this brings him closer to accomplishing his dreams. He feels it, he knows he is becoming better. When he finally learned how to swing well the two handed blade, he proceeds to purchase an ordinary hand and a half sword from one of the shops in the city, trading in the longsword and whatever gold he has for it. By this time, he was confident in his heart that he could swing the hand and a half sword well, judging from the ability shown during training, training has indeed made a difference and Dietrick knows training can give him the advantage he needs to be on par with brute warriors who possess physique and strength. He has no build, thus he'd rely on some fine skill off practice and training to make him strong in battle. No doubt practicing will play a big part later on in his pursuit to become a mighty warrior.
    Slinging the sword across his back, he sets out for adventure. Afterall, what sort of warrior is one who has no experience or who does not battle? He still remembers those words he said to Barrim before heading out to the southern plains of jiyyd at the cross junction along the long road to jiyyd, "a warrior is bred out of combat, not practicing behind walls". You can be good at fighting practicing skills behind walls, but you are warrior only when you fight and battle.
    Thus began Dietrick's period in life where he lead a vagrant lifestyle. By this time he had already travelled to the vast southern nars, wandering town to town, in search of battle. He charges in with any found friends to raid upon monsterous humanoids or critters, entering hostile land fighting furiously and slaughtering any enemy, and scavenging whatever scraps he could to make a living.

    This lasted a while. He won many battles and friends. Earning him riches enough to purchase better equipment. Eventually, he got to know about the militia in norwick receiving combat training. Dietrick became immediately interested, and asked to join the trainings. He was told however he has to be a militia to receive it and was directed to Mord. He found Mord shortly. Coincidentally, Seven with fellow celestials warned Norwick of the coming of demons who will wage war upon the land and likely at norwick. Mord aims to gather numbers in the militia ranks and Dietrick was easily accepted into the militia as a recruit.

    Life is a little different. Having to stay in a town and a barrack, and following strict regimentations and all. The hin though uncomfortable with some of the new life style aspects, remains excited, as he will receive disciplined training for free he knows will strengthen him and make him better a warrior. In return, he was told all he had to do was to guard the village and followed whatever orders received, which likely will propel him to battle. Nothing matters, not demons nor the dead, but it is the fight itself that interests him.

    Besides complimenting his obsession for battle, Dietrick gets to know more friends as well. Fellow militia such as guard Ivor, Celestria. Other recruits too such as Alastar, who he shares a same double deck bed with, him sleeping on top and Alastar at the bottom, Dietrick finds him fun company as they are both new recruits who go through the same drills and trainings together. Moreover, Alastar is honorable to him, as he possess the same drive as Dietrick, possessing interest to practice beyond what the normal militia training offers, thus the two go along together at times into the dangerous southern rawlins to test themselves against goblins.

    Ivor is comfortable to mix with, he doesn't talk in the strange articulate way everyone of the civilized world does. Straight forward and easy going, warrior like, Dietrick's kind of guy. Going on a trip to battle with Ivor is comfortable and likable.

    Celestria possess strange magiks. She is seemingly a nice personality and has the powers to heal. WOW! But talks strange or appears as talking strange sometimes to Dietrick, she can be a little difficult to understand. But overall, a nice person. So a nice comrade to be with, somewhat.

    There are honorable strong warriors like the Colonel Mord and lieutenant Cyrian. And it is Dietrick's honor to serve under their sword , knowing he will surely learn something useful with them and possibly become as good as them if he works hard eventually.

    Now simply remains a mysterious person named Maya. Her name is famous amongst many and many have recommended Dietrick to speak to her, for the interest in battle and conerning Tempus, who is a supposed powerful warrior who Dietrick has grown interested to desire fighting for. Tempus appears to be the perfect idol. No luck so far in running into her however.

    Free lodging, food, training, conditioning, comrades, a home, a direction, fighting under a banner might just not be bad at all. And all this drives the little hin to swing faster….

  • The Halfling Defence League

    Thoughts of the little brain behind a big sword
    Is weakness, but is weakness that illuminates strength. Not shun weakness; but overcome it, and make it your strength. This is Dietrick's conviction regarding the resolution he has: to master the hand and a half sword. It is clearly a disadvantage, the hand and a half was never intended for use by short halflings. It is absurdly large in size relative to the size of a hin, which means it is more difficult (if not exceedingly) to swing it well at all against a foe. It also means a hin who does choose it (not that any logical thinking hin was thought to would) is unable to use a shield, holds only a weapon and opens himself to attacks more. Hins simply can't use it as well as the medium sized humanoids the sword was meant for, until Dietrick popped out. There is a deeper side to the sword than most might know ever….
    -sidetracking a little-
    Dietrick wants to be great warrior, great mighty warrior. Fights with fire and honor, known throughout the land for valor. This is Dietrick's dream and life pursuit. So to accomplish such a pursuit, why would an intelligent barbaric hin (who eats meat and possesses intelligence of 14) choose to wield the silly hand and a half (besides it looking good graphically) clearly knowing it puts him disadvantaged in battle?

    Even in battle revered village of red rocks, home to the battle hardened iron axe tribe, dietrick was not given respect or recognized by many (3/4 of the village) for his honory role as warrior. This was because he is perceived to be a loophole among the warriors, the imperfection, the flawed, the handicapped. He is short, small, and the general perception by the norm is the warrior, the "strong" is one who's brave and BIG. Big body, big axe (big guns if they had it then). Those who are smaller, are ever weaker and disadvantaged to begin with, born to lose against the odds. Thus Dietrick was never seen as "warrior" but halfling.

    Its true, despite growing up in the same harsh habitat as his tribal brothers, Dietrick was strong but never as strong in strength as his human counterparts. It was due to size, smaller framed arms aren't quite as strong as bigger human sized arms. This, was a weakness, and its this weakness that makes many believe that Dietrick isn't cut out to be a warrior and will never make a good one. This however, Dietrick would not have, a fierce fire burns in his heart.

    It isn't the strength of one's arm that makes one a warrior, but the boldness to be fearless in one's heart." These words burn in his heart against the prejudice and laws of nature which seem ever to curb his little heart. I'd have none of it! Dietrick can fights too! The hin thought as he defies the norm fiercely. It is thus that Dietrick chose the bastard sword: where others think he will fail, which everyone believes what he is worse at, his weakness, he will prove to them otherwise. He sets himself the challenge henceforth to master a sword which the very laws of nature itself dictate himself unfit for. He will be great a warrior, and wield the sword well, it is …. the challenge, his challenge against the world and himself, upon which all his beliefs, convictions, principles, dreams, and fate lie.

    And thus weakness becomes strength. Where all the odds against the hin acts like fuel for the burning fire in his heart, the more the world denied him his right to warriorhood, the fiercer his heart beats. This, is what pushes the hin. Looking forward to each battle, victory gains meaning as each win didn't meant more gold, but honor, for the hin.

  • The Halfling Defence League

    The hin was able to find basic errands and jobs within the city, Peltarch lives up to its name as the jewel. Big and massive, it offered the hin employment , simple errands giving by the various businesses, running to and fro wasn't difficult for the hin, delivering, chopping firewood, menial tasks were what bought the next few weeks by, giving the hin free lodging as his payment at times and also earning a few kind coins which the hin is taught will get him things here and there if used as an exchange.
    After knowing a little more words, more about the common folk, getting a simple club which really is a broken piece of wood found in the kitchen within the mermaids, buying some nifty throwing axes, Dietrick's first adventure came.
    One day as he was at the commons, trying to find out more about martial fighting, and the land, he encounters a few individuals. First of who was a lady, who others refer to as the daughter of Ragnihild. No doubt some famous woman. Some strange warrior, and very prominently, a man in green metal plate the others addressed as magistrate barrim.
    Somehow as the group was discussing their interests regarding adventuring and fighting, they were bought to the hills east. Barrim hath decided to teach them about the kobolds who dwelled there, tactics , about combat, and how to experiment all these on the kobolds. It started with teaching how to hold a position, the hill was the trying place.
    By some twist of fate, it happened that a skirmish party of kobolds were assualting at the time, the young adventurers under tutalage of barrim, bashed the crap outta the lizards. During which barrim gave orders, instructions, advices, and taught tactics, such as using ranged weapons, how to cover an ally while he/she loots in a hostile environment.
    It ended with a patrol of the hills, headed by barrim, more kobolds dead. Nearing the end a kobold sneak lured the group, using bait and trap tactics, stealth, ultimately dying an illogical death. He was also taught about armours, stances to hold heavy bastard sword and such. In all this, Dietrick hath been most impressed, being exposed for once in his life about tactics, and disciplined combat, unlike the wild charge and kill style of his tribe in the past.
    Over the next few days, he observed the city defenders. He learned they train at some military complex, while training himself in the wild, practicing the stance Barrim taught which would enable him to wield a bastard sword well. "The key is the legs, to spread apart and stand firmly." Dietrick trained for hours each day. Admist a world filled with gifted sword wielding warriors, to emerge as strong, yet somewhat handicapped in some ways by a small frame, it is this disciplined trainings that will push the little hin to be a mighty warrior, as he tries to master skill instead of focusing purely on brute strength, an area he is clearly disadvantaged at.

  • The Halfling Defence League

    The sky is scorched by an orange radiant red as the first dawn of light desends. A grip appears on a reddish rock. Tiny hand is gripping tightly on the red rock as eyes spook behind looking, surveying the land below. Taught since young the survival instincts, Dietrick scans the land for any hiding threats. Had it not been for these skills, the Gods themselves be certain he'd not have made it pass the giants who live up the giantspire mountains, watching below as Dietrick hides within the many crevices and amble countless hiding spots the rugged hills provide. And now finally, after having swam through the underground river to avoid the cave swarming with giants, he is upon rich undulating plains.
    After making sure the land is but occupied with ordinary animals of the plains, Dietrick climbs down the mountain to the plain, and heads east. He sees a building ahead. Walking nearer, he gains better perspective. It is a wooden house like place with stony walls around it. Unable to control his excitement, Dietrick speeds forward. Understandable considering the hin hasn't actually seen real civilization before, only having heard vague myths of the great cities of man in stories told back in the village.
    Anyway, the hin reaches the place. Called the arms inn or something, Dietrick didn't catch the name quite well. Having had no education nor taught proper language back in the village, it will be rough from here. Eager to know more, the hin enters the inn. Colour came to the eyes of the hin, as music, merry , and ale filled the house. Instinctively he walks up to the man behind the table who looks to be in charge.
    "uh-uh" Dietrick points to food a patron is savouring nearby and points to mouth. "
    Either pay gold or you shall have none of it!" came an angry reply with angrier eyes behind it.
    The hin looks on with innocent, yearning, hopeful eyes. He has no idea what he does wrong and what he oughts to do.
    "This be no charity house! Aways with you lest you ruin my business barbarian!"
    Strong armed men carries the hin by both sides, dietrick is left danggling and struggling, shaking his head furiously as he is thrown out of the door. He controls his momentum in the air and lands with skills, preventing any serious injury.
    "what have i done wrong, please , just a little help" are the only thoughts that filled the hin at the moment, his heart aching.
    It wouldn't be easy, he already knew, though difficult, the hin hasn't once regretted nor even think back about the comfortable norm he has left in the village, though it was hardly that comfortable anyway, always having to fight to survive through each day back in the giantspire depths.

    "what to do now" he thinks as he stands on one side of the road, watching the patrons going by to and fro. He is tired, he has to find a place to rest, its been a month of harsh travelling out of the giantspire.
    As night fell, dietrick sleep at the hay left along the outside walls of the barn beside the inn. Being small, and covered with lay, he is unnoticed and undisturbed during the nights. During the next few days, Dietrick would sit and watch from the sides, observing the patron, although having had no education, unable to read or write, dietrick is by all means a bright fella. Listening and reading the lips of the manlings have enabled him to pick up a few common words here and there. Over time, he is able to mutter out the most basic common, though forming proper sentence structure seems ever impossible.

    Fate will bring the little hin on, as he still holds on to his dreams within his heart despite setbacks. Listening to the passerbys and patrons have given him knowledge that a grand place of sorts seems to lie to the north. "Peltarch" hath been mentioned many times through the days.
    It wasn't long before the hin was last seen heading north.