Story Story - How did Reudh join King Arthur's Army?

You may all know me. You might not. For those of you who do not know me, I am Reudh. Lord, that is. I'm not actually a Lord, but I just like the title. It sounds imposing.

Anyway, I come from a far away land, not Britannia where King Arthur and his army exist, but a small island nation called the Twelfth Bay. There, people are strange. They gladly offer you a cup of tea and are happy to give you their own house, just about- but at all times they are plotting your death in a lava fuelled rampage. 'Tis but a necessity; the generosity of the People of the Twelfth Bay keeps them safe from those who would do them harm, all but the Trolls found on the island of Four Chin.
For the most part, the trolls of Four Chin leave Twelfth Bay alone, but when they appear their doom is swift.

Whispers that abound around the world say that we worship a 'Great Toad', but in reality he is no more than a man. He is our leader, and nothing more.

Anyway, I grew up in Twelfth Bay. There is very little to do there but either farm or prepare for battle with the Four Chin Trolls. Hence, when I reached adulthood, I decided to strike out on my own. I travelled to Britannia on a leaky old boat, carrying my troll bone bow and a quiver with forty arrows. I am a proficient fletcher and archer- I had heard that King Arthur was desperately in need of them for a civil war that was gripping his country, between the duchies of Rhed and Bluu. I joined Bluu, of course. I'm a merc.

At first, people viewed me with suspicion. I was oddly outspoken and verbose for a Britannian. Some said I was a Rhed spy. Worse, others showed open hostility. I woke up one morning to find my arrows snapped and tarred with the colours of Rhed. Not so bad, I could fletch more.

But the worst part was being told that I could never hope to join a clan without a particular commission from the lords of those clans: I believe these Britannians called it a "Kaydeearr." I was informed that my Kaydeearr was not "high enough", so I resolved to improve it, whatever it was.

Then, one day, as we marched to war, I saw the colours of the Twelfth Bay! Who was it?

Taricus. Tiruin. Miauw the Sixty Second. Tee-Ell See. How pleasing it was to see my fellow countryman! Even Vertigon, who disappeared long ago from the Twelfth Bay was here.

And so, I was spurred on to bigger heights. I made friends. Compatriots. People I would not leave now, not for all the magma in the Twelfth Bay. Some took me under their wing and taught me their ways of the archer. Others schooled me in swordsmanship. Still more suggested I learn architecture, and so I did.

I'm still learning of course, but now I am a triple threat! Then, one day, a fellow Bluu called "Sargra" asked me if I wished to join the most noble clan of Arthur's Last Legion. I did not need a KayDeeArr; Sargra said the purpose of it was to learn and play and fight well. A close clan to ALL, the Original Elites, also helped teach me more. In turn, I fought as hard as I could, can and still do. It was very rewarding to be in a team that selflessly supports each other. I think I might stay here in Britannia.

But what about you?
How did you come to join King Arthur's Army? Was it coincidence? Press-ganging? Patriotism? Or the ancient ruins of the country of Soldat?

 

Thanks Ant! I haven't done much writing since I quit a diploma of professional writing last year, so I'm a bit rusty. I'm tempted to upload some of my older stuff. Maybe I will when I get the Writer's Apprenticeship up and running.

 

Aha, nice spot there! I didn't realise I'd used "anyway" so much. :p

My idea when I was writing this was that, say... Reudh was sitting around with friends in the barracks. They were sharing stories of how they joined the army, and so Reudh finishes his story and implores people to continue with theirs.

So yes, if you would like to join in, by all means, write up your character's origin, if you have one!

 

The Master in action :D

 

Ah... :) I've been enjoying the other stories people have created, but it's really nice to encounter someone who already has some polish to their style. ^_^

Take note you young'uns! This is someone who does it properly.

Thank you, Reudh; after a long morning reading your ss was music to my, er, eyes? X3

 

If you like, I could put the story I entered in Guro's competition here. And thanks, FBB! That means a lot!

 

Eeeh, that's a bit mean to unnamed player. I've got a few years on him/her, remember!

I did enter Guro's competition. Here's my entry.

Spoiler

It seemed like so long ago I was whole. I had left the safety of our lands to rescue one of the lost sons of the forest, but in less than half an hour after finding him in the tower, I was seized by Her minions. That Thari. She of the forest. As old as the hills, she was once a druid of our people, until she left our forest to seek forbidden arts.
We heard no more of her until our lost son screamed with a magically magnified voice to us; and thus I was spurred to rescue him.

I was seized and placed in a gibbet, with my eyes ripped out brutally. Only Thari's twisted nature magic and the salve her minions constantly dabbed my wounds with kept me alive- and yet it was the most excruciating pain I had ever felt. I retreated into my mind, and knew no more.

* * *​

I woke at last to the sounds of battle. Gruff shouts, perhaps dwarven, and even the yip yip of kobolds could be heard. When at last these violent sounds ceased, I heard a thump thump thump and the clatter of the dwarves and kobolds. I was gently freed of my torture, and from the cheers and mad cries I heard my peers being freed too. Thari's regenerative magic was abruptly beginning to run low; and while I felt the torn hole in my lower body heal and close over, I felt Thari's influence splutter and die away. My eyes remained sadly hollow and empty, and so I sat down against the wall, sobbing gently.

A dwarf with a weak voice came over to me and spoke.
"Are you blind? Do you need help?"
I could barely find my voice, but when I did I was surprised at how bitter it was.
"I am beyond help. Unless you can restore my sight, leave me to my fate."

What surprised me beyond measure was that the dwarf reached down and took what sounded like two pebbles from the ground.
"May I?" he asked gently.

I heard a slight crackling sound as the dwarf did something to the pebbles. Perhaps this was what dwarves were famed for? The crafting of stone.

He laid me down and then pressed the two pebbles into my eye socket. And... and...

Somehow, oh glorious fate... I could see! I could see every colour and every bright speck of detail! The dwarf in front of me; hideous, as all dwarves are, and yet I had never seen such an amazing thing! The small brown dog-like kobolds... We were raised to hate them and yet I could not stop appreciating nature's work! The colours, the bounteous colours of nature were overwhelming after so long in the dark!

The joy I could not contain threatened to o'erwhelm me, so I gambolled about like a young child! I was whole again!

As I asked my saviour what his name was, I felt something in my body say "No more," and I fell into such a deep sleep as I never had been in in four hundred years. The time was to heal... and so I slept.

When I awoke, I found myself in a dwarven fortress. My saviour stood before me and introduced himself. I was a fully fledged member of this new fort, he said. Once I was fully healed I was expected to take up the mantle and aid the fort as the numerous other members did. He said I would be pleased to know two of my elven kin had decided to join us. I asked whom; he said
"They do not remember their own names and so they were named Vemini and Jerry." Jerry was the first of us to be captured; with his arms cut off and replaced with axe blades he made the perfect woodcutter. Strangely this did not offend my sensibilities; perhaps I no longer cared about the forest. I could not remember my own name... so I asked him.

"What is my name?"
He shifted from toe to toe, before speaking.
"I do not know. Perhaps you would like a new name, like Jerry got?"

I thought for a moment.
"I guess Quecaevi works. That means stone-eye in elven. But... I don't like that terribly much." He considered this, then spoke again.

"You seem like a strong person. Perhaps Zikelid... Fierce-Rock is a good name."

I liked that name. I thought I would make it elven. I didn't want to abandon my heritage entirely. Fierce-rock in elven was Kenoziathe.

"Kenoziathe-Zikelid. I like this name. This is now me. Thank you, small dwarf."

And so he bowed, before scuttling away.
I sat down. What a new world to live in. I, Kenoziathe-Zikelid was reborn. I would do my utmost to help these people, for I owed them a life debt.
THE END

</br>--- merged: Aug 9, 2012 10:34 AM ---</br>
Forgot to add; it's a wee bit violent.

 

Damn you're good! I need to learn from that.

 

Super_Cow likes Death Note ^^

 

For one second I though that guy above was me. It was a scary second.

Anyway, awesome story. You're the xiaojin67 of writing. :D

 

Wow, thanks for all the compliments, everyone! I'm touched. :P

Perhaps if the devs want me to, I could write an official backstory like those ones you used to find in the front of SNES manuals, and Xiaojin could illustrate it! :P

 

Would ruin the RP servers though.

 

RP doesn't really have to be ENTIRELY within the game's lore, unless the lore is heavily interwoven with the story, eg. most MMORPGs.

 

*cough*GuildWars2*cough*

:D