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

    IMPRISONMENT IN AVALON

    Months before the Njast came and even before the taint of rawlinswood threat was ended…

    The captain of the silver dragoons had been noticeably going into the hills east lately, often alone to go over his own thoughts and worries.

    On one such evening, as he stood upon one of the hills in the east of the valley as usual, strange lights came aglow nearby in the deeper woods. Curious, Dietrick goes into the woods to find out.

    A young hin girl was held tightly around the wrist by a strange 'goat man' like creature with a purple hue.

    "Let go of me!" The hin girl cried in exasperation as the goat man pulls her even more thickly and leading her behind him.

    "Let girl goes , we fight!" The Captain draws the huge claymore from his back, holding it upright with two hands.

    The goat man smiles sinisterly with some hidden nervousness, "Come with me you little wench, as for you..." The goat man turns to Dietrick,
    "I have warned you before that we could do the 'same' to your people... Let this be the first as of our warning to you..." The goat man makes a twisted laugh and pulls the girl into the vines crawling up behind him, and disappears.

    "Wai-" The captain shouts after him, as the vines slowly start to close in, an infuriated Dietrick charges at it and jumps right into the vines just as the last bit of the vines begin to sip into the mess of a thicket.

    Then the lights were gone, so have the vines as well. Butterflies hover across the spot the vine stood, now empty.

    On the other side, in the plane of Avalon…

    Heavy steps blaze across the grass in the plane of purple hued skies, a savage animal of a Dietrick running after the goat man, bend on cutting him down and freeing the hin girl. Inching closer and closer to the goat man, the three finally arrived upon a clearing filled with all manner of strange plants, each twisted in their own ways.

    Panting, but steady, holding his sword up, Dietrick the warrior halfling moves slowly towards the goat man who can no longer get away. By this time, the Goat man is standing still, hands still upon the hostage, looking straight at Dietrick with an unmoving stare. Victory seemed upon hand, alas fate has betrayed the warrior…

    A figure clad in black armour springs down from above right in front of the goat man, a twisted smile curls across his lips. Dietrick's eyes widen... this familiar figure... the captain of the unseelie court... Dietrick had been captured once before, during then the captain had ... done things to him. Dietrick's eyes grows hard.

    "Good. Me got scores wit you toos." says Dietrick.

    "Oh? I was hoping to carry on our sessions, the last one had been most..." the Captain pauses to think casually a moment before continuing, "...pleasurable." His lips curl into the same twisted smile as before. Unfazed before Dietrick, the Captain's eyes betray his haughtiness. The sense of worry grows within Dietrick, by this time had already noticed he had fallen into a trap, a dozen unseelie court knights had surrounded him from all direction.

    Putting his hands around lawgiver firmly, Dietrick speaks in a loud voice, "You think me gonna get scared? Lets start!" The hin charges forward, promptly intercepted by a few unseelie knights who were cut down in a manner of a few rounds as the hin trips one , cuts the other down just in time to face the one recovering from the trip to finish him off as well. As the ones behind him and at the sides are nearing him within paces away, Dietrick instinctively finishes off the ones in front quickly and lunches at the Captain.

    Like a menacing whirlwind, the Captain and the halfling get into a violent maelstorm of a battle, the blows from each side were swift and violent, the other unseelie knights kept at bay, sensing they would only quickly meet their end if they were foolish to go near. The captain slowly steps back, trying hard to parry off blow after blows of what felt like the force of an ocean as the heavy sword of Dietrick clashes upon his weapons. As Dietrick raised his sword high and was ready to rain down upon the Captain with a next attack, suddenly, for the first time, a special kind of fear struck his heart.

    His eyes wide and a drip of sweat flowing down the side of his temple, his heart froze.

    "This…what is this?" came the voice within his heart, the fear grows by the second.

    The Captain smiles smugly at the unmoving Dietrick, as if his muscles had tightened and locked themselves, he stood still with his sword still raised up in the air, his eyes filled with anger, fear, like that of a lion caught in a man's wild trap.

    "Move.. Durn it.. MOVE!!" Dietrick cries within as he tries to struggle but his body would not move…

    At the throne room of the unseelie court…
    Dietrick stands motion-less, a dozen unseelie knights in single files on both sides of him, with the Captain in front, smiling smugly as he bowed to Queen Titania.

    The aged, but cold beautiful face of Queen Titania looks upon Dietrick coldly, it contorts into an irritated expression as she narrows her eyes.

    "Ah. Its -you-.." A somewhat surprised and tone of gladness was in her voice as he turns to thank the Captain before turning back to Dietrick.

    "How should he be dealt with, Queen?" The Captain asks, the usual smug smile still hanging upon his face.

    The Queen thought silently for a moment.
    "He had been most…. painful.. This Dietrick. Foiling much of my plans and even having the audacity to raise this... this pathetic attempt of an attack in my very world... Rest assured, he will have nothing but an easy time here... What recommendations do you have, Captain?"

    "If I may so boldly suggest, my Queen... I have been observing this Dietrick closely, it appears he is indeed a hot blooded warrior as the servants speak. If we simply executed him, -we- would have fulfilled his wish of a glorious death and granted him undue honor he had always craved for... Therefore, I suggest instead we give him what he would absolute loathe most... a continued existence filled with humiliation, scorn and toying. Yes especially toying, he had such a -huge- reaction just from the last time..." The Captain turns to smirk at Dietrick before turning back to the Queen as sunken feeling starts to enfold the hin.

    "A most astute observation my Captain. He shall be placed in your responsibility then, I -trust- you will take great care of him..." Both the lips of the Queen and Captain curl into a twisted smile...

    -end-

  • The Halfling Defence League

    HIS MOST IMPORTANT DUEL

    Having returned home to an unexpected welcome, Dietrick finally faces one of the most important duels that will change his life forever…

    The gifts were presented. The elder appraises each, nodding approvingly as each gift was presented, seeming pleased enough and ordering them to be carried to the back. A short moment passes. With the last gift carried off by one of the returning men, she turns a sour but thoughtful gaze on Dietrick. It warms into a smile.

    "You will face our proudest warrior in fact. If you can defeat in an honorable duel. Then.. we will welcome you back from the dead. IF you lose. You must turn around and never return here. And let our hearts rest. Also if you win.. I might grant you any request you may have."

    His heart freezes, it must have for even when he could hear Gears commenting in the background, "…Kinda ironic, ennit? Y' comin' back here t' brag 'bout what a big warrior y'are...an' we actually did everythin' we could t'~avoid~ fightin' on th'way here." He could not feel anything towards that, rather, his mind was glued to the notion of what he 'might' lose, if he fails, it would all be over...

    Dietrick slowly tilts his chin up to look sternly and proudly at the elder.

    "Is honor. Me accepts the tribe's challenge." Had this not been what he had always dreamed of, what he always wanted? Finally! To even be given the chance to fight the tribe's best is the greatest honor any tribesman can receive, for only the worthy are given such! His heart was that of mixed feelings, of cold fear yet also hot es-tactic.

    "Only those with great need or questions return from beyond." The elder remarks before her figure fades away into the tent...

    The duel was to take place in the night, for now, the four were allowed rest. Dietrick had translated what was to occur earlier and now they gathered around a pot in an emptier part of the camp. Ginger is cooking dinner, Gears is looking around wondering why he is here in the first place, and Dietrick appears lost in thoughts, his sword leaning upon one shoulder with his legs spread wide open.

    Memories flood him starting from the oldest, every battle, each painful moment, his anguish, his resolve, everything he had been fighting for, is for this moment... He will earn their approval, he will take his warrior-hood they denied. If he failed, then all would be for nothing...

    As these thoughts strengthened the resolve within, his fear of the risk subsided, all that remained, was how much he wanted to win this fight and how he could ensure that.

    Z nods. "You'll do fine." He assured Dietrick, somehow this priest's words were always comforting and Dietrick knew he meant it.

    "Don't be silly. You won't lose. You're councilor of defense."

    Dietrick puffs out his chest and braces himself.
    "Hooorah! Tribeman of iron-axe never think of losing!"
    She is right. He should cast out fear and put up the courage of a warrior.

    Ginger is cooking rice that night, he could still remember freshly Ginger mixed butter spice and dried mushroom with the rice. It smelled great. Ginger always is a superb cook, if only she wasn't married....

    There was a slight argument between the group as Ginger had wanted Z to give blessings and special seeds that can enhance Dietrick's prowess, but Dietrick bore the words of the Elder well... "No magic. No outsider witchcraft. You win or lose by your prowess as a warrior alone or not at all."

    Ginger childed Dietrick "They're seeds. not a scroll or a potion. Eat the seeds with your meal. It's not more magic than a fenberry or pipeweed."

    Hesitantly, Dietrick agreeded to have the seed mixed with his rice, convinced himself good nutrition isn't witchcraft. Dietrick never forgotten the taste of that meal, because it was the only thing before the moment he had been waiting for all his life, the duel where he proves himself warrior worthy.

    Ginger dished out the rice to the others, Z eats normally, Dietrick chewing extra enthusiastically, and Gears was complaining again...
    "Y'know, back in Luiren when someone comes home... We give'em a good meal. Not have r' strongest warrior fight'em."

    "This is tribe. Have own proud ways. Need respect."

    Gears smirks and raises a brow. "Yeah, right..m' I gonna have t' wrestle someone f' th' right t'have blankets t'night?"

    Ginger grins. "Count on it." Gears grins back.

    They continue their meal and finish up, Dietrick's face was one of contend and comtemplation. The four get up after cleaning up and begin to look for the elder.

    "M' not comin' up t' this gods-f'saken wasteland ever again. ~ever~" Gears grumbles along the way there.

    "Not likes it? Is beautiful!" Dietrick tries to make him feel at ease.

    "Even if there's gold deposits?" Ginger teases.

    "Even then s'not worth it. Dietrick, whatever does it f' y', but it just looks like a buncha snow t'me. "

    A tribewoman appeared in front of the group, she smiles and thumps her chest lightly.

    "The Elder sent me to see if you are ready."

    "I am." Dietrick adjusts the scabbard on his back idly as he replies. The woman leads them to a cliff, it has a ladder at the bottom.

    "...an' cliffs." Gears adds on with a grumpy face.

    "They wait up ladder for you."

    Dietrick thumps his chest, thanks the woman and begins to climb the ladder proudly, the others follow close behind.

    The four reach the top. At the other end of the cliff, awaits a big man. He wears only hides. He carries a hard, mean look. Gears looks him over. "Bugger, he ain't even wearin' armor."

    "Not underestimate gears. The more you think he's uncovered, the stronger he likely is." Dietrick is standing still, his eyes locked onto the tribe's champion, studying him.

    "M' not, m' sayin' he's brave. Takin' on an armored opponent."

    "Tribe fights with great strength."

    And that was the key, the warrior of the north focus on attaining as much strength as possible and hitting as hard as they could. If Dietrick battles this foe in raw combat, he is clearly outmatched. He needs a tactic, and quick. Dietrick begins to kneel on the ground, lifting his sword up with two hands to the sky.

    He begins to pray,
    "O great Tempus,
    Dietrick this day fight proud champion of tribe for rights back to home.
    Not ask for victory or strength
    but ask for honor and bravery in me heart
    dat me fights without fear and fight fair
    bless our fight and let victory,
    if i get it, be a glory to your name"

    Halfway in the prayer, the Elder nods to the champion.

    Dietrick nods and thumps chest to champion. "Me Dietrick." Dietrick unsheathes and draws out the huge sword on his back.

    "Fight with the strength of Arvoreen at your side." Ginger cheers.

    "Readys?"

    Dietrick's cloak flabbers lightly in the wind, and stays very still. Unflinching, not even one bit. He looks at the warrior intently.

    The champion draws a small axe and a rather sharp battle axe from his back.

    "Tempus be with you, brother." The champion speaks.

    "With you too! brother ! hoozaaaaaaaah!"

    Dietrick leap charges forward, his sword cutting across the snow ground...

    There is no tactic, no plan, just instinct and experience as the body "knows" and reacts.

    The champion is a brute, a butcher, flaying the axes around wildly and when it hit, it hurts like a jaggered edged axe sinking into the soft uncovered flesh of a piglet. Again and again the champion swings and chops at Dietrick. Dietrick goes defensive, doing his best to dodge and block off the attacks with his giant sword, managing to evade most of the attacks. But even with the concentrated effort, some of the monster of a barbarian's attacks still got through, it was like an unpredictable whirling fury of a maelstorm. Dietrick's masterworked breastplate begin to split at different spots, deep gashes revealing.

    The wind swirled around from the speed of the two warrior's weapons, it was so fast, the attacks, the blocking....

    The hin appeared to be trying to defend and block off the brute's attacks as best as he can, but with one out of ten getting through, how long would he last?

    Then, in the battle, Dietrick taunted the warrior. Putting up an irritating smile, Dietrick tells the champion how much he is enjoying being hit and encourages him to hit harder...

    "Rrraaaaaaaaghh!!!!!!!!" The champion lurches forward for an all out.

    Within that split moment, Dietrick tumbles to the side and swings his sword across... The side of the champion splits, blood splurts out. But it does not stop, he continues to lurch towards Dietrick like a mad man, like his wounds didn't matter, like he hadn't realized...

    Again and again he lashes out at Dietrick, with the hin narrowly dodging out of his way....

    It was a trick! Dietrick tricked him to open himself, and in that instance whenever the Champion launches himself out, Dietrick would capitalize that moment of opportunity for his own counter-attack, attacking the man at his opening where Dietrick had predicted his opponent would create for him by reading his movements.

    Red fluttered about as the two tossed about in the snow.

    "AArggh!"

    The champion lurches forward.... A smaller figure whizzes pass... It was a split of the second...

    The two figure stopped and remained still. The champion collapsed onto the ground, his blood dying the snow red.

    Heaving in and out, his cloak tattered and his armour split, broken and bloodied, Dietrick sticks his sword into the ground and goes to the champion, bending over him to bandage his wounds.

    Gears breaks the silence. "He's not much a' a champion, s'what he is..."

    "He's pretty strong actuallys. But me know some tricks or two bout duel,
    have duel much in life." Dietrick replies, a hand holding a bleeding side as he looks at his knocked out brother.

    "I thought he was fairly tough." Ginger says.

    "He took a lot of good hits, that's fer sure" Z comments.

    And ginger is right Dietrick thought. This man was clearly stronger in terms of toughness and his attacks, if Dietrick had not used any maneuvers he would've lost, he knew it within himself...

    The intensity was over, it became calm as the quiet snow flakes that fell upon the strong muscled hin. Holding the blood back, a smile breaks on Dietrick's face at he looks into the face of his bested opponent.

    "You fight braves..." Dietrick praised the champion, his tone is one of respect. A quick snap of his fist to his chest.

    A groan escapes the lips of the badly injured champion as he gets up, slowly.

    "You really have changed, Dierick." The champion smiles proudly at him and pulls the hin into his embrace. "Welcome home, brother!"

    This -is- that moment he had been waiting.... All his life... Dietrick could feel the blood flowing into his head... It felt like he was standing atop the world... This feeling… It felt like.... the ultimate victory...

    The champion tries not to wince at his own wounds, slapping Dietrick on the back. Dietrick carried a cheerful smile, like radiant sunshine, with of course the usual tinge of silliness to it.

    Beaming and smiling up cheerfully, Dietrick hugs the champion too… Around the legs. "Thank you brother!" He cried back in uthgardt.

    After the emotional scene, Dietrick straggles back to his companions, rubbing his side , smiling still with a happy look.

    "All's well, that ends well." says Z.

    Gears stood watching, looking bored. "I still don't see why we had t'come f'this..."

    Dietrick walked up to the elder and exclaimed, "Me won elder! Pity the late elder wasn't here to see it."

    "So you have," the Elder smiles warmly. "IT does this old heart good to see you back from the dead. I hope you stay. If not do not stay away. Now let's see to a few gifts to you and your friends."

    "Thank you elder for your kindness. me afraid me cannot stay here for good yets as my destiny in the outside world is not over yet, but me will always return again to see all of you if me can. Me missed the tribe alot during the few years in the outside world."

    After some casual words, everyone began to make their way down the hill.

    On the way down…

    "Aright, whatever." Gears comments in his usual sulky tone.

    "Gears not happy we get gifts? Sure? Gifts? Sure?" Dietrick tempts him.

    "M' anticipatin' some manner a' bug on a stick…"

    "Me can ask elder to give ya dat if ya want..." Dietrick snickers, Z fights a smile.

    "If they've got better, I'll take it." Gears looks around.. "…they must be hidin' th' goods then, though."

    Dietrick laughed heartily. "Thought ya might."

    The group proceeded down and came back to where the Elder's tent was, a girl went to fetch some gifts.

    Dietrick went on to converse with the elder in uthgardt, as gears blinks blankly at Dietrick.

    "Me come back is to see all of ya cuz me missed ya all! And to show and prove to ya me finally found honor of warriorhood! Besides dat, proving me worth now as warrior as biggest dream. Me also like to see pa and mas who raise dietrick... "

    He stops abruptly and scratches the back of his head suddenly...

    "Come ta think of it, me found out something interesting in world outside. See gears there?" Dietrick points to Gears. "Is smaller like dietrick. dietrick not short human afterall! dietrick is actually of different race call halfling. hin for short."

    Dietrick lowers his head slightly as if something came to mind, then raises it slowly back up and continues in a slow voice. "After this, dietrick would like ask.. umm if allowed bout how dietrick come to be here… "

    The elder lowers her worn gaze..but only a moment before proudly lifting her eyes again.

    "We found you as a babe among the wreckage of outsiders' traveling. A caravan I think they call it. You were aong the spills we took from those who slaughtered those outsiders. We.. And you know ..we gave you a family and raised you as one of us. There..there is only one thing left from that wreckage that you were found in. It is how we came to give you an outsider name. You can have it, if you want it."

    Dietrick's lips waver as he finds air to mutter out the words, "P-pleas-se. Thank you elder, and yes me like to have it. it is... important. "

    The elder whispers to a woman beside her who went inside the tent, emerging out soon after, holding something in her hands. Dietrick blinks , pausing for a very long moment, looking at the elder then at the direction behind her at the woman. She smiles to the Elder and then to Dietrick, presenting him with a bundle of cloth, wrapped around metal pieces.

    Dietrick moves slowly with his warrior stride steps , taking heavy steps forward. He stands with a contemplative expression, as if some GREAT secret truth is waiting to be revealed to him. His breathing became heavier as he goes closer to see what laid within the bundle. He bent his head and looks at it...with unblinking , serious eyes, his arms shake a bit as they move up to receive it with two hands. Holding it, Dietrick looked blankly at it, still.

    After a moment, Dietrick opens his lips. "Thank Arvoreen and Tempus Miea taught me to read common.."

    Lying on the cloth, are pieces of rusted metal. Piecing them together, they reveal themselves to be once a name plate attached to an oaken chest. A name shows when properly puzzled together, it reads, "Dietrick Dardragon".

    He continued looking at it with emotional silence.

    "Thank you. elder. thank you so much."

    "I hope that brings you some answer. IF not I am sorry there is nothing else left."

    "No elder you have done so much, it gives me the answers indeed that me looked for since me found out me is a hin."

    Turning back, Dietrick thanked his companions too.

    "Thank you Z, thank you gears , and ginger. Me finally know who ..-i- am."

    "Dietrick?" Gears asks.

    "Dietrick, Dardragon. that is my family name." Dietrick replies proudly.

    The Elder speaks. "IT is good to see you, Dietrick. IT does my heart good to see you become such a strong warrior. I still strongly wish you had stayed with us..but that is the past. I hope you next visit will not be so long. Now Tempus be with you all. I need my rest. I do not have the energy of my youth."

    Dietrick looks sadly at her. "There are some troubles i have at the south, and not knows if i can come back and when. but me wants you to know me always thought of you all in my heart since me left. Me will not forget you all as you have never forgotten me. me swear someday me will come back, if me still breath for that."

    The hin warrior thumps his chest, clenches his fist hard, holding his fist against his chest not putting down emotionally at the elder, bidding her a long farewell.

    The elder frowns and standing up as straight as she can she strides off with a nod to Dietrick and his friends.

    And as they walked out the gates barely more than a short distance, Dietrick exclaims, "My name.....is Dietrick, Dietrick Dardragon!" He roars his name into the endless vast skies.

    -END-
    And herein lies the end of Dietrick's pursuit to find his warriorhood, honor and the truth behind his past. And marks the beginning of a new search….

  • The Halfling Defence League

    HINNAK

    Following the defeat of Thoon and his army of bugbears who worship Orcus…

    Quiet. Is quiet that Dietrick knows not before. It had been a long series of events… The death of Hillen Kreuzflur... The fall of the demon fortress... The defeat of Thoon in the warrens... and now finally, the completion of the purification ritual by the druids using their sacred stones... The woods might be a little wild now, but overall, things seemed to be going quieter for once. A time for peace has come, and it is well deserved.

    It might have been over, but Dietrick will remember well what transpired; for these are events filled with blood, sweat, and feelings of helplessness. In these dark times, allies are important, and he remembers well those who helped him bring about the peace he fought so hard for.

    Dietrick simply cannot understand... Understand why the priest could be so prejudiced and narrow-minded. Theaon opposes the alliance between the silver valley and the thunder tong of the hinnaks. He claims they worship the fury gods, but when requested he attempt to convert them, he goes quiet. Always easy for "no", never around to clean up the mess, it seems Dietrick must settle this himself since Theaon will not. Ironic that is the councilor of defence to do this, when it ought to have been the councilor of faith's role. But then again Dietrick is not one to concern such, he is one of action for what seems right. If Theaon will not meet the hinnaks, Dietrick will attempt converting them himself.

    Why? Why does Theaon not see? Running village is not about "picking allies". Its not about talking only to the "nice looking people". It is about dealing with people who live in the world, forming treaties and diplomatic ties so our valley makes less enemy and our people could enjoy peace, something rare in narfell. Theaon does not want this alliance. What does he want? One less ally loyal and committed to fight alongside us ? Who will aid us when the valley ever comes under attack? The legion? Will the legion be enough? Dietrick still remembered well the legion being tricked outside their own town and locked outside by snow goblins.

    A deep sigh…

    Atop the hill within the valley, where the stout fellow is located, Dietrick stands by a campfire just outside the building. It is his favorite spot when he wishes a breather. He likes looking at his fellow kin below working the fields, and this never failed to bring some comfort. Far below, a hin bent down to work on the weeds of the fields. Watching him, Dietrick felt as if time stopped and the world became to himself, a calm flowing over him.

    Why does Theaon not understand..?

    Fustration laid within his heart.

    Dietrick had put in efforts to bring the hinnaks closer to the valley and made headway in the progress, it was not easy and not because he wanted additional military security. What happens should the hinnaks are left to be? They will always remain a tool to the "other circle". Dietrick does not trust this "other circle". At one time he did, but not after he saw the bodies hanging upon Irmunsul. If everyone continued to harp upon the wrongs the hinnaks committed during the defiler war, if everyone continued to see them with disdain and treat them as outcast with suspicion, eventually, history will only repeat itself. The hinnaks having no choice, will simply have to side with the other circle should a day come when the other circle decides it wanted "more". There will be war between us, there will be bloodshed with many dead. The hinnak will leave, coming back perhaps in the distant years for revenge. This will never end, no good will come out of it. Does Theaon wish this? To kill, be killed by your enemy's children, and to kill again until only you are left? To what end?

    A deep sigh…

    Dietrick rubs at his forehead with his right hand as he stands atop the hill in silence. A light breeze passes.

    He trusts them. The hinnaks have kept to their word always, and seemed honorable, they fight well and are never afraid to take the fight to the enemy when needed. Dietrick favoured such over the ones who ought to fight, but hide. Thinking about it, the hinnaks reminded him of himself. Some frowned upn him over his ignorant and tribal ways, likewise the hinnaks are being viewed upon badly due to their past and their goblin blood. Prejudice is the trouble here.

    Is it their fault they are borned the way they are, that they are what they are? Hinnaks are living beings too! The forced union between hin and goblin, this was not by choice but by the twisted cruel force of the defiler. What they are, what they do were forced by the circumstances caused by the people around. Have they ever had a choice? Have anyone given them a lease on another way of life? No. Seeing them as victims, Dietrick strives to help them to see there is another way, to bring them back…

    A bond had formed between the hinnak and him during the period of chaos with the tainted woods affair. The hinnaks had fought alongside him against the enemies, to him they are friends. It wasn't norwick or the legion, but the hinnaks and the other circle, who did more of the real work in keeping the taint and evil at bay.

    Thus he will not permit Theaon to ruin this alliance so easily. He will "save" them. To save this alliance, to continue his work in drawing the hinnaks closer and winning their trust. In hopes one day the hinnaks will become better, forsaking their less desirable ways they picked up when they were reviled and become accepted by the civilizations of narfell. "The hinnaks are not evil, just people forced into what they are, maybe some think me a fool to trust them, maybe one day this trust will kill me, but this is something my heart believes to be right, and me will see it to the end."

    Facing the pressure from Theaon who wishes to call off this alliance , Dietrick will only have to try converting them himself. If they accept another faith, perhaps Theaon will lose his reason to cancel off the truce?

    The next day, Dietrick leads a small number of dragoons mainly priests south, into the rawlinswood where the thunder tong of the hinnaks live. Enjoying the peace in the deep wilds of the woods kept hidden from the outside world, Dietrick experiences one of the most enjoyable time in his life found in their hospitality. No wars, no hate, just friends sharing their ways to each other.

  • The Halfling Defence League

    AT THE GATES OF IRON AXE

    Following the arduous travel over the harsh terrain and the unexpected encounter of the mysterious bounty hunter, the adventure to reach Dietrick's tribe continues…

    The four now stood on higher ground, the sun shining brightly overhead above. All around them lay the vast snow covered lands and plateaus that ran on for miles. Apparently Ginger had sneaked off to climb the cliff the assailant was on earlier, didn't take the rest long to catch up to her , only to discover the assailant had long before shape shifted into a bird and fled. The group promptly continued westwards.

    Now where they stood the land runs on and on, hence the view is much clearer than ever. As they peered out, they see huge giant shadows lurking in the distance all around the valley below. They walked on northwards to their destination. All the while, Dietrick remaining calm as he led the group, though his heart beat a little faster inside.

    Walking closer, they see a giant ahead on their path, tall and mighty guarding. Z the human ducks behind the rock, while the smaller ones were already small so needed little cover.

    "anyun can uhhh speak giant tongue here?"

    "Nope." replies Gears.

    "Try common." suggests Z.

    "Ok…" Dietrick walks up. "elloz!" His usual innocent demeanor hangs on his face which turns up to look at the giant, his sword still in its scabbard. On the other hand, the giant trenches through the snow with its giant sword and then turns its head with a hungry sneer toward Dietrick.

    "Me Dietrick and wish to pass, will giant let us pass freely?" Dietrick thumps his chest and looks sharply at the giant, awaiting a response. The giant looked hard at the little hin for a long silent while. Dietrick's heart turned icy calm, the same feeling it always held before a possible fight.

    The warmth of the giant's breath billows out from its nose and mouth at each huge breath it takes.

    "Sometin' funny about yoos , puny one. Why should i not grinds you up for food. I's get awful hungry up here. Stupid s me not. Not easy havin' live away from warmer low parts."

    Dietrick replies calmly, "If giant and kin let us pass, Dietrick have a fine rare gift from the low parts lands for great warrior like you."

    The giant bellows. "Me wanna see dis gift. If it great as you puny thing say. Maybe lowland giants not chase me off no more. and I cans go back home."

    Having known the existance of the giants native to the giantspires, Dietrick had already prepared beforehand a bargaining chip collected during an adventure long ago, saved for just such a moment come the day he decided to return to his village, now is that moment. Carefully, Dietrick unbundled and lays down a very solid rare, gigantic half-plate on the floor in front of him, it seems to only suit the size of giant-class creatures.

    "With it you will be stronger, metals hard to go thru this. Its made of fine metal and very well master worked. If you allow us free passage pass your lands here, this armour is yours."

    The giant grunts and nudges Dietrick with his sword.

    "You back way. NO tricks."

    Dietrick steps back from the armour, an invisible glee forms on his face as the giant falls for his bribe, he KNEW they would be tempted by such a treasure.

    "So we go and you and kin not attack then?" Dietrick questions confidently, watching the giant enjoy his find.

    The giant grunts and holds the plate up. "Mes make others stay on da west sides of da pass.. you stay on da east sides.. If you come too far west in da pass.. maybe I get gift AND a snack."

    "Thank you friend." Dietrick thumps chest at the lumbering off giant who is busy fiddling with his gift. The four waited, true enough the giants on their side began to head westwards, 'the' giant kept his end of the bargain.

    Dietrick turns back , lift his helm a bit and sticks his tongue out at his friends, grinning.

    Z nods, "Good."

    "Yap, we better go quickly." Dietrick calls out to them as they continued their journey once more, and just as their feet continued, the bickering between the two blonde hins begins.

    Gears remarking in hinnish as they move off, "Yeah, good work armin' y' tribe's enemies."

    Dietrick replies in the same tongue, "He says he going back to low lands, me helping tribe."

    "An' giants never lie..."

    An awkward silence came over Dietrick briefly before he retorts, "Tribe happy to fight strong foe anyways."

    Gears rolls his eyes as Z walks on quietly, pretending nothing is happening in blissful ignorance.

    The group followed the river north, Dietrick being native to these parts could tell they were coming closer. Perhaps closer than they thought, in barely an hour the group finally reaches what looked to be signs of civilization: a wooden wall with a gate. Finally...

    The sky was a pleasant mid-day blue. The four approached the gate slowly. Dietrick's heart leapt and his face was astonished, it had been years since he last lay eyes on this once familiar gates.

    "Wait!" Ginger cried out in hin as she pulled him back. Dietrick snaps out of his daze and looks at her as she hands some valley's local produce to him.

    "Tea and tobacco for your elders."

    "Thanks ginger. They will love it. Thank ginger on behalf of tribe." Dietrick smiles sweetly at her.

    Dietrick noddles and turns back to look fondly at his home, quite the opposite of Gears who pulled down his hood.

    The four walk further up to the gate and Dietrick knocked hard on it.

    "Elloz!" Dietrick called out.

    The gate opened to reveal a tribesman.

    "Aiya! Me back!!!!!!!" Dietrick cried out as he lift his helm off.

    The gate clamped shut.

    The smile on Dietrick's face fades as an awkward silence came over him.

    "Um...maybe he din recognize ya." Z comforts.

    A snorting sound came under the hood of Gears who poorly tries to conceal a snicker...

    A sudden realization struck in Dietrick's mind. "Oh me forgot they not speak common..."

    A voice passes through from behind the gates, in a language none save Dietrick understood.

    "We don't see many strangers around here." An unhappy eye peers through a slot in the gate.

    "Me Dietrick! me home! open up brother!" Dietrick cried in the same tongue.

    A snorts came from behind. "Yeah right. Turn around and go back home. He died years ago."

    "No me really backs! Take look at me face!"

    The tribeman unbars the gate, bear handing a rough log. Upon sight of the tribesman gate guard, Dietrick thumps his chest in the way he usually does, the way of his tribe, though a little prouder this time than usual.

    "Me Dietrick! of iron-axe tribe! is back home now!" A hint of exasperation hides in his voice.

    The tribesman peers a long moment at Dietrick and frowns. "The Elder will want to see you, runt. Explain why yer not dead."

    Dietrick scratches back of head with an awkward smile, ""Errr... Me wants see him too. Bring me to him please!"

    The others behind were somewhat left helpless...

    Gears glances at their gibberish and turns to looks to Ginger.

    "Sounds like a whole lotta grunting to me." Ginger whispers.

    "Y' catchin' any a' this...?" Gears whispers back.

    "Nope."

    "Yeah."

    "I think he said they're fixing to marry Z to one of their tribeswomen. But he mightsa said two." Ginger continues in her whispers to Gears.

    Z just goes on smiling politely, perhaps due to the fact he hasn't understood over half the conversations on this trip anyway...

    "Him? Oh.. That elder died two winters ago. His widow Elder now. Only woman who ever best him in arm wretlin'. Gee i wonder why."

    "Nooo..." Dietrick whimpers.

    The smile fades on Dietrick's face to form a deep frown followed by a sigh. A tinge of remorse stung his heart. He always... thought he would show his village elder when he finally became a true warrior, to prove him wrong, to get his acceptance.. But now...

    Dietrick pauses in his thoughts before raising his head to reply. "Then please bring me to see the new elder then, his wife."

    Dietrick braces himself after a while, then beams a bit more, it is still a great joy returning back home afterall and Dietrick's gloom changes to euphoria quickly. The tribesman glances at the three strangers with Dietrick and then waves them all along. Dietrick explains to the others they are being bought to the elder now, and they promptly followed the tribesman in. The village is simple, several tents in the clean snow, with simple rugged looking tribes folk walking about tending to their simple daily chores.

    The tribesman stopped before one of the tents. An elderly aged woman with a bent back who has the company of a few young tribal maidens at her side stood before them.

    "There she is. Z's future bride." Ginger whispers to Gears.

    "Birthin' hips?" Looks like she'd snap in two. Gears whispers back.

    Dietrick thumps his chest quickly. "Dietrick of iron-axe, return home elder."

    The elder waves the tribes man off as she nods curtly to them all. Dietrick blops his head slightly, looking up reverently. She listens to a whisper from the man and then narrow sher eyes at Dietrick.

    "We thought you were dead, Dietrick. I can barely recognize you. You..." A smile crackles her old face briefly. "You have grown..out."

    "Yap! me have grown! Err not recognize? me the only shortie heehee."

    Her face turns to a frown. "If you were not dead all this time, where were you?"

    "Me sneak out of village to the ouside world elder!"

    The elder frowns deeper. "You ran away from us? Why?"

    "Late elder, your husband not allow dietrick to join other males to fight for tribe! so dietrick leave to find warriorhood! Tribe trainer taught dietrick is bout heart and not size of arm dat makes one warrior, err... me .... did take it down so me wanted to go out to outside world to prove self! and find warriorhood." He explains.

    "And who are these strangers you bring with you?"

    "These here are frens me found in outside world, is thru their help dat me ables returns here safely"

    "So instead of facing your responsibilities to your tribe with honor you ran away? Yes heart is important, but so is your family and tribe. What about them? We've mourned you all this time!"

    A guilty look sinks onto Dietrick's face. "Sorrie.... but me left is becuz me wanted to be like.. others!"

    Dietrick looks down soberly for a minute. "Was sad cuz elder not give chance to Dietrick, when is after all dat dietrick is taught and learnt here. It was hurt to Dietrick honor when elder told Dietrick to beat metal instead cuz he fear dietrick cannot fight as well as brothers. So me didn't throw away honor, me went to find it!"

    Dietrick then went on to mention his friends and himself bought gifts for the elder and village. Taking out the gifts, he holds them out in cupped hands.

    With a frown the Elder replies. "Did. Let's see these gifts. Then we will see more about your honor and place in this tribe."

    -end of this chapter! for the grand finale, read "HIS MOST IMPORTANT DUEL!"

  • The Halfling Defence League

    "MORE THAN LIFE"
    A sweet cuddly tale of hin-sized hugs…

    His memories had been fuzzy since his return. Pictures blurred by a haze, Like shadows moving in the morning mist.

    Some of them had to be real.. No mistake about it regarding those feelings… so intense.... It is something important, he just -knows- it. Your head can lie but your heart will not, as he learned, to always trust his instincts.

    Why hasn't he returned earlier? Why did he not? There is a missing gap in his recollection and therein lies the answer. Then there are the feelings, and vague pictures, like something happened somewhere, though he could not remember any of it, save for bits and scraps. He remembers one thing though, clearly as good as real from his dreams.... He remembers the words "it is more than life..."

    _**The day before his return… A warrior is stirred from his rest...

    After finding out of Dietrick's death, the brave Milo Dardragon, gives up his life and riches, in exchange for an attempt to reach down to Dietrick, via the magics of a kelemvor priest...**_

    A lone halfling stands at a cliff, looking at the empty wastes ahead.

    "Dietrick!!!"

    He hears a faintly familiar voice and turns slowly to see who it was.

    "Milo!"

    The other hin in front of him runs forward to him, seeming happy.

    "I heard you got killed in the Lost City!!"

    Dietrick nods once with eyes closed, he sighs then opens his eyes again.

    "Milo die too?"

    "Listen…your needed back home! "

    Dietrick tilts his head in wonder.

    "...umm..kind of.. Long story.. "

    "needed? home? where?"

    Dietrick retains his blank expressionless look, Milo on the other hand looks around frightened at the gloomy surroundings.

    "I told you i was going to take you back and meet my family.. "

    The flashback zoomed like an electric jolt through his head. Yes... Dietrick had met Milo just before -that- battle. There was an agreement, should he return...

    "oh ugh....is nice see kin yah... "

    "I heard they tried to raise you but you didnt want to come back? "

    Nods once Dietrick did.

    "I don't understand.. " Milo peers at Dietrick, with the innocent demeanor of an innocent child, waiting for an answer.

    "dietrick life over. "

    "We can bring you back.... it doesnt have to be, i can find the gold.. "

    "der is nuthing fer warrior dat fails. "

    "gold? wat milo mean? not understand. "

    "I'm doing whatever it takes...." A determined look spells on Milo's face.
    "You spent your whole life not knowing any family... I'm here to make sure it happens... "

    "nope, dietrick noe milo. was tempus kindness. allow dietrick see kin before death. Is gud enuff"

    "We barely got to know each other... I didnt know how serious you were when you said it may be the last time we see each other.. "

    "but bad milo join me in death now. "

    (yet another tale to be continued in time... 🤷)

  • The Halfling Defence League

    Dead Warrior

    The warrior had died. He once said: "A warrior without fighting spirit is dead on inside, even if alive in body."

    For him, he had died in both areas.

    To most, being in the fugue is a suffering. To him however, it made no difference since he no longer had the will to fight on.

    When the remnant knight slayed him, it not only took his life, but his will as well when the blade struck into him like an acid's sting.

    He always wanted … to be a great warrior, and believed as long as one had the courage to take up arms to fight in a battle, that made the person a warrior already. For it isn't the strength of one's arm, but the boldness to fight in one's heart.

    However, what reason to fight on, if one could do nothing! Against enemies like those he saw within the lost city, he fell helplessly like an ant against a giant, running, caught, crushed under a minute. What good is it if your fight can do nothing! If all that courage brings about is only as good as being clobbered like rabbits before an army of tribesman, what good is it!

    He questioned his worth, because he doubts it now. All that training and skills, only to be a mere ant against enemies he needed to fight, it is tragic for a warrior. Why can't he be stronger? Why is he so weak? He recalled telling himself he would work hard since his fall at the demon fortress.
    He decided then he will work to attain skills and heart worthy of legend, he made a word to himself, in front of Lawgiver, so he would not fail the sword again.

    Who was he fooling? Himself? He had raised his spirit higher , he had trained harder. He had not lack of spirit nor skill, and what good was he? Only worthed as much as a second to his foe. The shame from such disgrace, his spirit could not bear.

    "I am weak. I am nothing and I can't accomplish anything." He thought to himself.

    He was angry for a minute and kicked at the sand and air. Then he just sits down, against the wall of a ruin, dead.

    Inert, he becomes part of the ruins. He knows he cannot do it alone this time, he has bought out the most he could since the last incident at the fortress, but he has failed yet again. He could not find justification this time around, thus he gives up resigning himself to fate. Perhaps his elder was right? He never was "as fine". Fighting have lost its meaning to the hin even as he awaits vindication in the sands, time forgotten in his wait.

  • The Halfling Defence League

    At Long Last! The Warrior's Return
    A tale coming soon to this thread site near you….

    **When time came for males of age to join the fighting force of the tribe, Dietrick's elder had ordered him to stay out simply because the elder did not believe that he could be as fine a warrior. With wounded pride, Dietrick fled his village, away from what he knew, for the unknown outside world. He pursued to find honor, and to grasp warriorhood. It was such that begun the humble tales of a right-sized adventure.

    Two years have passed, the halfling have grown into a fine warrior. He now seeks to return back, to reclaim all that is important, all that he had been fighting for.

    This is Dietrick's story of his confrontation of his past. It would be what would make him hold his head high, and know he is a warrior truly, if he passes this obstacle….

    Shortly a week after the fall of the Demon Hold...**

    "There'd better be things t'hurt before we reach this "village"… Feelin' slightly tense" The blonde haired hin said, as always in -that- tone of his...

    "Careful what wish for... Oh! err but everyone shud feel happy! Cuz! very very very few gone in deep secret parts of giantspire!" The other blonde, well muscled hin replied to the group.

    "Do you have gifts to bring your elders?" The female hin, lean and agile-like questions.

    "Errrr.. Nope."

    "That's not good."

    The three halfling and a human chatters along as they climb the ridges along the nars pass, up higher each step they went, eventually going along north west , leading them onto a winding path through some foothills.

    Each of the little ones along with the one big one struggled, some harder than the other trying to find proper footing on what seemed like very rugged paths along the hills, each step harder as they climbed higher.

    "How far away do you live? Er.. did you live?" The master crafter known only as 'Z' asks as sweat flows down his hard working face.

    "Far Z, up giantspires..."

    "Oh, Ok."

    The rugged looking halfling with a giantsword on his back continues to move as his eyes were fixated on the map in his hands, he begins to hymn a tribal mountain tune.

    "I wonder if they'll have any darkwood trees out there that need cutting." The only female, a halfling comments. Her usual wood-interests sprouting, even amidst the walk up.

    Dietrick on the other hand , is still looking at the map.

    "Where'd you get the map?" The human Z asks out of curiosity.

    "Sam sold it to me." Came the usual, innocent unsuspecting tone.

    "Sam?" Came the wary reply.

    "Yup, horc. He knows me wanted by pelt, so offer me short cut route." The hin replies innocently.

    From there, the trail narrows and climbs fast, one side drooping off steeply and climbing up just as steeply on the other side.

    The blonde haired hin stuck by the female, a rather put off look hangs on his face.

    "Me checked map, it does go to home direction."

    "Ok. All i wanted to know... that it was checked out."

    "Yap it is Z."

    The tougher hin sticks the map into the insides of his breastplate and proceeds to climb carefully. Z nods and follows after him.

    "Though me never walk this way before..." Dietrick remarks....

    "I was out this way once before. There was a bugbear tribe up here."
    The female, climbing after them comments.

    "Err... Hope they not see us..." Dietrick scratches the back of his head with an awkward smile, his hands holding onto the footings.

    Finally, the last of the quadruplet tussles up. The four froze in pause, catching their breath as their eyes widen.

    They now stood atop a narrow ledge, higher up they are now as they gazed over the lush, vast plains below them. An eagle glides pass in the infinite sky above.

    "Ark!" The bird's call echoes through the huge empty air, as the quartet feels a wave of thin, strong wind greeting them.

    Dietrick looks at the path ahead, a look of uncertainty on his face.

    "Hmm.. Seem no many use this path up in mountain. Scout or just go?"

    The female hin is bent down, her fingers on the ground, studying.

    "Can have a scout walk in front of group is good idea." The dirty blonde haired warrior suggests.

    "Can't tell if there are tracks." Replies Ginger.

    "Dietrick, if y'came ~down~ this way by y'self, why d' y' need r' help gettin' ~back~?" Gears rolls his eyes, a sarcastic tone as usual.

    "Was lucky, me was young and silly then." The muscled hin looks into the distance, into the narrow ledge pathway ahead, as if recollecting his past memories without looking at Gears.

    He sees a narrow stony ledge waiting, with the cold wind biting in gusts every so often. He moves his feet forward without hesitation, as Ginger moves ahead, the other two follow behind closely.

    " 'Cause y' old n' dignified now." Gears says as he walks on grudgingly, non-nonchalantly.

    Dietrick sighs softly as the distant memories return, his heart beat in eager anticipation.

    A great gale zooms by, snapping Dietrick out of his day dream as sharp movements caught the corner of his eyes. His hands reaches out instantly to hold Z back against the wall as the man shuffles his feet against the falling ground below him.

    "Whoa!" The human man looks wide eyed below him as chunks of rock and ground collapses down.

    "Careful Z." Gears cautions as Z steps as further away from the edge as he could.

    "And Gears." Ginger looks back at him, with concerned eyes.

    While Dietrick seemed to go on as usual, seemingly appearing to be quite accustomed to the terrain and climate, the other two males appeared to become cautious, staying away from the ledge, Z in particular pulling his cloak tighter as the cold icy wind continues to bite at the four like a hungry wolf waiting to devour one.

    "Err... Is very cold up mountain by da way..." Dietrick cautions the group from his experience. "Is quiet at least though..." He tries to comfort the group with his usual nervousness around people that develops when he feels discomfort in them.

    The group continue travelling up along the ledge, Dietrick remained the only one talking for a while.

    "Learn to breath in Z, you will like air here, is very fresh."

    The unpredictable wind strikes again suddenly as Gears stumbles near the edge, Dietrick leaps backwards towards Gears and grabs hold of him, making sure he doesn't fall off. Gears gets gusted up against the cliff face as the wind changes direction. Z helps him up from his wobbling legs state.

    Dietrick hides a small laugh, seeming amused as the blonde haired hin starts to learn of his heritage ground.

    "Maybe we ought ta link ourselves, you all being so light. Link hands maybe." Z suggests.

    "Might be dangerous. If one fall, all fall. Specially wit' loose edges." Dietrick rejects the idea.

    "So if Z falls, he drags us all down?" Ginger supports.

    "If ya all like..." Dietrick looks to Gears, considering.

    "The winds might lift gears or ginger right up." Z speaks concernedly.

    Dietrick frowns, the idea worrying him.

    "I'd let go if I fell." Z says.

    The other three hin did not reply to Z, and the idea was left to die as they continued travelling along the ledges of doom.

    After some distance, the silence breaks.

    "If there ain't anythin' t' fight afore we get t' th' village, I sure hope s' one a' y' kinsman y' don't mind me maimin'." Gears grumbles.

    "Me sure we find sumthing to kill before, Gears." Dietrick replies.

    Gears flattens himself against the cliff face as snow slides down suddenly from above them.

    "Shhh, avalanche." Ginger warns with a soft voice, the group instinctively follows suit along with Gears.

    The four were as still as dead for a time, even after the avalanche was over. They waited longer.

    "I was thinking more for you all, me ta help you stay grounded." Z speaks.

    "Too risky Z. We'd be fine, don't wooor-ry..." Dietrick was cut short, he looks up. A little snow and small rocks tumble from above, then all was silent again.

    "The snow's heavy and soft from melting. It's dangerous to travel this time of year." Came the hushed tone from the girl.

    Dietrick winces and looks up. "Think is over. Let's ... go." Z nods.

    "No loud noises." The girl says, the other three instantly lowered their volumes, agreeing readily as they continued.

    The two agile hins pad quietly through the heavy snow, Dietrick on the other hand trudges through like a giant through a river, heaving his legs over step by step.

    Hours pass…

    Gears growls as Z helps him up, Dietrick smiling mischievously near him as he almost slips again when another gale of wind blows by.

    As the last of a series of such very similar incidents filled most of the earlier part of their journey, their situation seems to brighten at last as they step into light.

    Dietrick squints up at the sky, bright rays shining upon his face.

    "Think we further now." The warrior speaks.

    Before them were some odd looking ice ground.

    "Black ice?" Ginger peers at it, Dietrick peeks from behind her, her curiosity spreading to him.

    "It's very slippery. Dangerous. Go around it." Ginger continues as she side steps around it.

    "Gud idea." Dietrick agrees with her tagging behind.

    Quite shiny in the weak sun, up ahead the narrow ledge path widens into a high mountain pass.

    Dietrick's eyes widens big as he gasps a second, beaming on the inside like the bright sun rays that now shone upon the four. Before them, looked to be what can only be described as the purest white. Like enchanted, the land has a rustic wild feeling to it, quiet and serene, covered with untainted snow.

    "Finally…Home..." Dietrick sighs softly as his lips turn to a smile, admiring the land fondly.

    "Yeah, s' just like y' Dietrick... thick... simple..." Gears smirks as Dietrick makes a face at him.

    "Tracks Ginger?" Z whispers to the Ginger as she studies the ground, Z looking around cautiously, the other two however still lagged behind, bickering...

    "But is happy place Gears. And gears should be honored, is one of most beautiful place."

    "I can't see any in this heavy snow." She shakes her head looking up at the tall human watching over her.

    "I'd need a stronger wind to sniff out enemies too."

    Z takes out a spy glass and peers from one direction to another, turning as he does.

    "Wow... snow... can't see that anywhere else..." Gears mutters and rolls his eyes.

    "Which way on the map, Dietrick?" Ginger asks him, he unfolds the map he had kept inside behind his breastplate and looks.

    The route trails west along the contours shown.

    "West." He takes a look at his compass, turns towards the west and walks a bit forward.

    A hill stood nearby.

    "We'd go up hill for a better view." Dietrick leads them up, walking in front.

    He walked to the edge at the highest point of the hill, looking over the land quietly, watching. His face a blank expression.

    "Gears' dream come true...." Dietrick mutters as he looks blankly down over the vast snow scape.

    Despite the thick fog and snow, the movements of four legged creatures about below them over the hills is distinct against the white backdrop.

    Z struggles to see through the snow as Ginger watches and counts them.

    "Kinda foggy though - hard ta see much."

    "Lotsa wolves."

    Dietrick's eyes, acustomed to the climate, remains watching silently the numerous white wolves lurking about ahead.

    "Gears gonna stab or we go arund?"

    The blonde frowns.

    "...s' place reminds me a' somethin' I did that was less than fun... " He paused a minute before continuing, "Rather not bring th' whole pack down on us. 'Sides, wolves don't carry gold."

    "We kin leave 'em be, unless they attack us" Z suggests, which the group did. The four make their way down then proceeds to navigate pass the great white wolves around the ridges and hills.

    There were some unavoidable battles with one or two of the pack but with the group's fighting skills and Ginger's ability to make peace with them, the group easily made pass the wolves and reaches a narrow passageway that spans through two tall hills.

    The hin couple were in front and fell first to a trap no one expected. Poison gas springs out at them as Ginger and Gears begin to cough. Dietrick and Z were a few paces behind, out of reach.

    "Ya two alrite?" Dietrick asks and looks at them concerned.

    An unfamiliar voice calls from above...

    "Surrender Dietrick to me and all this will go away."

    Against the snow sky backdrop, on top of the hill over watching them, stands a lone slender figure, clearly a woman's and shaped like an elf. Magical energies swirl about her.

    Still confused, Dietrick cries out. "Wait! Wait! They are me frens! Not enemies! Or ..wait, are a part of da tribe?"

    "Dietrick, that ain't y' tribe y' git!" Gears rebuttals him.

    "Who is that Dietrick?" Z questions.

    "I'm not part of your tribe... I'm here to collect on the bounty on your head before word gets around." The woman replies, her face hidden by a helm.

    "Ya from Peltarch?" Dietrick asks.

    "I'm not from Peltarch." Came the reply.

    "Bounty?" Says the puzzled Z.

    "Bounty? What yer talking bouts? Who put da bounty on me heads?" Dietrick asks with some confusion, then remarks. "Someone for gears to stab..."

    "And such a stabbing there shall be." Was the blonde's reply.

    "Maybe not yet.. But I'm sure the stuffed shirts in Peltarch would be grateful enough to me for bringing in a wanted criminal."

    "Busy nosey bugger..." The warrior mutters, then engages in quick hinnish to Gears. h> "On a side note, dat sumun Gears will like stab, bet she got lotta nice gear and gold."

    h> "Y' better hope she beats y' out on m' list."

    "Me was framed and me am innocent."

    "That's not for me to decide."

    "So you won't let me off?"

    "Well... I don't really know how much I would get for turning you in yet... But you have to worth.. something."

    "How much for ya to willin let me off? "Me is four against ya, and me frens are strong, should think of reasonable price..."

    The hin tries to persuade, but is a natural failure at diplomatic speeches...

    "I'll let you off cheap..300....but only because you're not an official bounty yet. I honor my contracts." The female replies to his earlier question.

    "Okay." Dietrick throws a bag of coins up.

    But as he begins to pull in the talk of odds, she frowns a moment. "Make it 500."

    "Ya just said ya honor yer contracts. And me said okay alreadys. Is a deal made."

    "My contracts to take people in.."

    Dietrick looks to gears. h> "Maybe yer can cut a deal wit her?"

    h>"Y' got y'self inta this, don't look t' ~me~ t' save y' sorry arse. Just give'em th' gold an' s' go."

    Dietrick attempts to intimidate the woman instead, making himself look as mean and brutish as possible, like some thuggish formidable warrior and threatens her. "Yer magiks running outs, and we are many, take the gold and go otherwise it might not work in yer favour in the end.... " Dietrick had observed the magic around her fade as their conversation dragged on, and capitalized on it.

    The woman assilant sighs and glances around. "Fine 300. But if the stuffed shirts put out the word. You're mine."

    "Sure! See ya!" He waves up to her as she picks up the pouch then turns to leave. "Let's go."

    The group is ready to continue again, Ginger is however nowhere to be found...

    -end of this chapter! for the next chapter, read "AT THE GATES OF IRON AXE!"

  • The Halfling Defence League

    WANTED! OUTLAW!

    He never held back and he always kept to it, his heart. He believed strongly that goodness, lies in the heart, and one should always follow it, as its the purest form of morality that will never go wrong, it is the voice of conscience. Even back in his tribe, during his growing up years, the hin had always detested tradition and always resisted those he does not see the reason for and more often than not challenges such laws. As long one is clear to his heart and follows what he knows is right, then it is more than all one can ask for: a clear conscience."

    Little would he know such of him, would led to his current predicament…

    He still remembered vividly, what happened that day...
    The tireless hin had pursued them: a pair of wicked gnomes who kidnapped and tortured Jerr. Having caused damage to the city and murdered an inn keep to buy silence, they were causing much evil within even as the halfling worked to bring justice to them.

    Finally he tracked his leads to a warehouse where his foe is hiring many to deliver important supplies to.

    He had masqueraded as a hin looking for employment. He stood in the queue waiting. Suddenly, a peltarch guard appeared. The guard was going to clear him and his other friends away from the warehouse, as well as look into the report of a theft.

    Such ignorance he saw in the guard…

    The guard proceeded to ask the dwarf standing guard over the warehouse entrance who he thought is the thief. An outrage roared in him when the dwarf, to his shock, indicated him to the guard. He had done nothing even close to stealing, and he was just standing in the plain open!

    He had stolen nothing! He was innocent! Surely this dwarf who is employed by the kidnappers is doing this in order to eliminate him by borrowing the hand of the law, a power made up by lifeless words on papers.

    The laws are blind.

    The guard approached him, he demanded Dietrick go with him to see the Judge, and he will have to wait only until morning while being detained…

    A simmering strong fire slowly grew inside the little barbarian. A great roar inside of him cried about how the guards were not catching the evil culprits responsible for kidnapping and torturing Jerr, burning the city and murdering the inn keep, but they are going to take him, a complete innocent instead? He would not buy it!

    With steely gaze and an angry heart, a deep longing for true justice was sought inside of him.

    "No, me won't go with you, me not done anything."

    He tried pleading and explain to the guard his innocence.

    Instead of finding out more, the guard wished know only if he is coming or not or if he had to be dragged. Replying that that is up to the judge to decide. This further infuriated Dietrick. Why does an innocent man seeking good have to be put in a jail while awaiting trial for something he never did? Is there no justice?!?

    Dietrick revealed to the guard he is investigating a pair of kidnappers who are responsible for the arson in the city and the murder of the inn keep.

    But the guard would hear no reason. At least it was what it seemed to the barbarian hin, who knew little of the politics and complicated procedures of the city.

    He told the guard he wouldn't go. He strapped up his breastplate quickly, not taking more than a few seconds for just a few straps and armed himself with a sword, being an ex-militia, he knew too well they would only use force on him if he resists their arrest.

    The guard blew a whistle. The hin looked looked blankly with a steely gaze, unflinching. Within minutes, five more guards surrounded him.

    "Shall we start then?"

    And he made the move, he attacked the guard with his blade, he had planned to knock them out before running away. But the sword would not penetrate his armour??? What manner of sorcery is this?!??!

    Sensing a hopeless battle, he gulped down an invisibility potion, pushed the guard off at the back and made a great run to escape!

    Being quick on his feet, he fled the city even as the gate guards were firing arrows behind his back.

    An outlaw he became.

    But regret once he did not, he hadn't been in the wrong. He had assaulted a guard, but only in defense, they would have attacked him anyway.

    Why should I yield to corrupt laws where justice do not exist?
    The hin questions.

    -END-

  • The Halfling Defence League

    The Sword of Legend - Lawgiver

    He rotates the handle of the blade, the sword turning. Light reflects off it as he looks at it silently.

    It is a strange thing how certain weapons of power fall into the hands of some very specific people. Fate perhaps?

    It is noted weapons may inherently decide a warrior's fate, or sometimes the other way is possible.

    A sword wielded by heroes for generations tend to get into the hands of only somewhat naturally- heroes by some strange twist of fate.

    Dietrick looked at it, his heart beat and beat. This is the sword of legend, the lawgiver. Looking at it, it emanated a strong sense of depth inside of him, as if the sword is alive and trying to communicate to the hin. Trying to tell him the long centuries old histories of heroes who used to wield it, of the great glory they shared, its tales of how many a great evil villain were vanquished under it and how the sword was hidden for so long… Or perhaps its an excited hin's lunatic imaginations conjured by his fasination.

    Somewhat though, he knew somehow, his destiny have changed the moment he took hold of it. Like as if the sword had a destiny of its own, its destiny is intertwined with the hin's, each of them will affect the other's fate in the living world, one way or the other. It would be too late for regrets, not that the hin would, it was his desire to find such a sword, it was his desire from the start to fight valiantly on the battlefield and to die gloriously, if it came to that.

    The old historian Ullidy had told him that a demon lord was defeated with the blade a long time past. And that an army of demons are looking for it now. Not that it mattered, since the hin had somewhat already made many deadly enemies already, another simply did not make any difference to him. Like... what difference does it make to a man with leprosy if he contacted a heart disease? Either way he's a dead man... Likewise, what difference with one more after his life? The hin smirks at the thought.

    The hin had just made it back out of the epic battle with the demons. Kara the knight had led a number of valiant heroes into the heart of the corruption: the stronghold fortress of the demons. Dietrick had fought and died valiantly in the last room, watching his friends standing in daze with the succubus's firing at them without mercy, he charged in front of them with anger and struck the wenches down. Alas, the bebilith trapped him within its web with a glabrezu spewing forth rays of great light that hurted with each blast. Despite his efforts he fell in the battle, a battle worthy. Kara had lifted his sword as a loan and finished off the demons, including the balor leader.

    Now he is the one unworthy. The sword had felled demons within its legendary strength, but it was he who had failed, his strength hadn't been worthy enough to swing it and bring forth victory. The battle rhythm is broken, the smooth flow of the beat of battle is interrupted with his abrupt death, the sword had fought on whilst his strength had failed, and having have need of someone else to carry on Lawgiver's strength in that battle instead. How unworthy! The sword is legend already, but he isn't.

    He looked at the blade silently. "Since I am the bearer, and you chose me, then I MUST become stronger, and fulfill your calling for me. I will find and walk this path you are cleaving out for me…"

    He decides he will work to attain skills and heart worthy of legend, he made a word to himself. A strong fire burned within. His shame from the defeat at the final battle with the demons had strengthened him, in other ways. What he now lacked in strength, he makes it up with a strengthened spirit-will, which does not fade with death, and over time as strength returns, with both spirit and strength, it makes him possibly an even stronger warrior.

    By chance, he ran into Ullidy again, the historian who first revealed origins of the sword.

    "Chaos follows that sword." The old man speaks.

    Ironically, the sword is a bane of the chaotic, what his nature happens to be himself. He looked at it with a suspicious eye wondering if the sword would someday turn on him.

    Chaotic wielding a weapon against the chaotics, and chaotics are drawn to me. He thought on the attention and fights the sword would invite, and as he imagines, a silly curl comes on his lips. "More fights…. hoorah!!! .... "

  • The Halfling Defence League

    A reason to fight

    Back a few months ago, he was growing restless with each stroke. At first , he believed his joy in battle was killed because he no longer needed a brave heart, and that skill was sometimes all he needed. Thus the meaningless in each battle he felt was due to that. But he was wrong. There were times when battles were difficult, there were times when he could feel the adrenaline rush coursing through the blood within his veins even against enemies of such inferior skill, why?

    No it wasn't the lack of the need for a brave heart, but the lack of a reason to fight that killed his love for battle. As his skill grew, what changed was that reason, his old one. He had accomplished what he used to fight for and no longer had a reason to fight anymore. Slowly, fighting became a bore. His strokes blunted, lacking spirit in them.

    Thinking back, when he was a younger, his dream and aspiration had always been to become a warrior and to prove he could fight and he believed that the heart for it was all that’s required despite the handicap of his size.

    Now, he had accomplished this. He knows it. He is faster now, more agile, experienced enough to dodge by instinct, ability to read his enemy's attacks, mastered combat maneuvers. He has a list of worthy opponents defeated by his hand, recognition from many, this he knew. He is now the warrior he wanted to be. He no longer had to strive, no longer had to overcome, he has done it, he has it now, what he wanted.

    So, what's left?

    Dietrick thought to himself. The thought of returning back to his tribe village and brag a little smugly about how he became a strong warrior crossed his mind. But he is still young, will this be all? Will his life simply end with this? Will he be contended?

    -No-

    Somehow, he felt something lacking, something missing? What is it? He is still young, and as Yondalla's luck would have it, he had attained fine skills as a warrior within a short few years of hard work. But if his journey would end just here, it seemed too vague, something inside him wanted more, a desire grew inside him to challenge himself.

    A thought crossed his mind. “There are always stronger opponents around, so how far, can he go against himself, and against them?” How far will he go if he pursuit this uphill path, will he be bought down easily? Is he strong enough to walk in this path to fight, to learn, to master, to reach the higher standards of a warrior? Then he felt his fighting spirit arose, that spirit that first led him out of the village, that attitude of his that does not accept the possibility of a limit, he craved to win once more, to be able to overcome the notion that there is a limit and once reached, he can go no further.

    "Let me challenge to reach skies," he thought, "there are no limits, as long as me strive hard and try to reach further, nothing can stop me. And even oceans will yield, but let me stay faithful to my dream and guard it.

    Slowly, perhaps the small hidden driving seed inside of him, is showing, that is, his pride and lofty dreams.

  • 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….