The Tale of Jangeol Bakieck

[John80sk]

   Ch 1: Slave

 Jangeol sat on a stool in front of remaining embers of a fire, warming his hands.  The night was quite, Jangeol enjoyed these nights, free from the usual shouting and vulgar banter that usually took place while they were encamped.  Jangeol was of average size for a young man of fourteen, though he was visibly more muscled than most.  His hair was jet black and his eyes brown, on his upper lip and strong jaw were a few unshaven whiskers.  His thick eyebrows were furrowed in thought as he stared at the crude brand on his hand, which formed the numbers 7/7.

   Sitting as such, after the men of the notorious Red Wolf Mercenary Legion had long since drunk themselves to a stupor and fallen into a deep slumber, Jangeol would often think as he did that night.  He wondered where it was that he had come from; he knew that he had been taken as many slaves of the Legion as an orphan.  Perhaps bought, perhaps the Legion itself had orphaned him.  It didn’t matter much; it didn’t affect what he would do tomorrow, or the next day.  He did know Raelath had taken him in and treated him much better than most treated their slaves, almost as a son sometimes and Jangeol admired him almost as a father.

   Raelath was a warrior of legendary repertoire, in his prime he was said to be worth ten well trained men.  He stood nearly seven feet tall and was built as wide as the oldest of trees, his strength unmatched even though he was far from his youth.  Now he was mostly tasked with training the men, though he still found his way onto the battlefield often enough.  While some said he was beginning to lose his edge, Jangeol didn’t believe a word of it; as far as he was concerned Raelath was still the greatest warrior in all of the Legion.

   As he thought he heard the snap of a few twigs, Raelath must be awake he thought.  Raelath had almost as much trouble sleeping as Jangeol did; it had grown worse since the death of his wife, which had left him without a son to call his own. 

As he reflected Raelath’s massive hand grasped his shoulder, “You should sleep m’boy, goin’ ta be a long day fer ye t’morrow.”

Jangeol looked over his shoulder, his voice a bit distant, “I’ll be fine, don’t be worryin’ ‘bout me suh.”

Raelath smiled a bit, “I talked to Teros, I asked if I could use ye in tha raid t’morrow, told him ‘bout how ye were real good with tha sword ‘n such.”

Jangeol’s face turned to a bit of surprise, followed by a rare smile, “Really?”

Raelath’s smile grew broad, “Aye m’boy, yer ta act as relief this time, but if ye do well, I’ll prolly be able ta convice him ta let ye in fer better jobs.”

Jangeol jumped up from his stool, no longer smiling but it was quite obvious he was ecstatic, “Thankye Raelath.”

Raelath patted him on the shoulder, “Ye’ve earned it, now get some rest, can’t have ye fallin’ asleep while yer on post now can we?”

[John80sk]

Ch 2: Warrior

The march around the hills surrounding the Kru’Lok garrison had been long and physically exhausting.  The Kru’Lok were constantly attacking any remotely isolated settlement that they could reach, making contracts on them quite common for the Legion.  They were generally considered savages by most civilized cultures and the reputation was well deserved. 
The Kru’Lok preferred axes and pole arms in combat, as well as some bows inferior to most used by those who opposed them.   Their armor was usually that of crude plate mail or simple leather, as most of their equipment was either looted or crafted by their own smiths, who were often warriors who were just too old to fight.  In order to be too old to fight in Kru’Lok culture however, was to be unable to lift an axe any longer, so the decrepit old men rarely turned out anything of quality.

Jangeol and those who had been selected for guarding the rear of the encampment were not equipped much better.  Most were older soldiers, ones who had allowed their armor and weapons to fall into ill repair, though there were a few exceptions.  There were also a number of them who were Jangeol’s age, most weilding handy down weapons from their fathers and armor that hardly fit.  While the leather armor Jangeol wore was not of high quality, at least it fit.  Raelath had also been kind enough to give him a long sword in decent condition, which he currently admired with almost boyish enthusiasm.

Having reached their destination most of the older men, realizing that is was unlikely for them to have any involvement in the fight, had sat down or gone to sleep.  Most of the younger men, however, watched the garrison closely just hoping they would have a chance to engage in battle.  As they watched the platoon tasked with the assault became visible.  Their march halted as they came into range for the archers to fire.  Raelath was below, bellowing orders at the archers to draw, as they did the Kru’Lok were still scrambling to assemble into a formation.  The battle would be a quick one, thought Jangeol, feeling a bit disappointed.

Just as the Kru’Lok garrison seemed to have prepared itself the Red Wolf arrows filled the skies, pelting the savages.  The Kru’Lok eventually scrambled into a disorganized charge at the Red Wolf front lines, all the while being bombarded by arrows.  The survivors crashed against the Red Wolf front lines, falling as soon as they were within striking distance.  The young men seemed to let out a collective sigh as the battle came to a close.  Some of the men below cheered at their overwhelming victory while Raelath continued to below orders, organizing a scouting party to search the garrison.

The old men seemed to instinctively know it was time to go, and awoke.  They slowly picked up their gear and began to walk back without so much as a word; the young ones fell in behind them, all a bit more gloomy than before.  Jangeol was one of the last to go, wanting to linger a bit longer.  He wondered why it was that they were taking the same path back, reluctant to walk the mountainous terrain yet again when the valley below was clear.  He decided it was not his place to say anything though, it wasn’t that important anyways.
The walk was arduous as expected and most of the men walked with their heads down, many had unbuckled their armor, and some just taken it off and thrown it in their packs.  Jangeol had left his armor on, seeing the others as lazy but had not found the confidence to comment on the others.  He walked towards the rear of the formation still, he looked around occasionally, but his morale was no higher than those around him.

As they approached a rock outcropping Jangeol scanned the area once more, not really looking at anything in particular.  Jangeol’s head suddenly snapped to his right, did he see something?  He thought he did.  Did anybody else see it?  Not likely.  Was there a noise?  He wasn’t sure.  He focused on where his eyes had took him, a rock lay there, was it out of place?  He wasn’t sure.  As his brow furrowed in thought a roar traveled across the formation, which suddenly looked up to see a volley of arrows.  One struck Jangeol in the left shoulder and he fell to a knee, from the brush that surrounded the path Kru’Lok soldiers seemed to materialize, the appeared to be half man half plant.  Camoflauge, he thought as he rose from his knee and drew his blade.
As the cries of the wounded rose up, another volley flew towards their formation.  Jangeol began to run at the Kru’Lok soldiers, along with some of his fellow men.  The second volley had left many more wounded, some dead.  Jangeol let lose a noise that one could only call a snarl as he closed on his first victim, slashing wildly and cutting through the abdomen of a fairly confused looking Kru’Lok. 

He turned to catch another running towards him with a back slash, but was blocked by the brute’s battle axe.  Jangeol growled as he stepped into a sharp kick to the Kru’Lok’s knee, which bent back with a sickening crack.  He then thrust his sword through the man’s neck, blood spraying out as he pulled his blade back which spattered his clothing and face.
He then scanned the area, seeing his fellow mercenaries standing over corpses of their own his heart rate began to fall, the adrenaline leaving his body.  He then turned back to the path, seeing that many of his brothers in arms lying dead or severely injured.  Then turning to his right he saw a young man about his age grinning at him

“You fight well,” he said

Jangeol simply shrugged, looking down at the dead Kru’Lok at the other man’s feet, “Looks like ye didn’t do too bad yerself.”

Jangeol looked back at the path and began walking down that way to see what he could do for the wounded.  He knew, however, that the only thing he really could do was try to carry them back and hope they didn’t bleed out on the way.