Torsten thinks back on his recent past.. the events which had so changed his life and caused him to end up the company of this diverse group of folk..
They had come with overwhelming force, in the middle of the night, using their huge
greatswords like threshing scythes, cutting down groggy soldiers like ripe wheat. They
had used magic; they had appeared inside the stockade walls, everywhere at once. The
battle, such as it was, was decided in a few moments.
You came to the next morning, tended by an elvish matriarch of Morwyn, only one of her
gentle eyes visible behind her own bandages. Around her lay the survivors of the giantish
raid, including the Captain. The Captain's face was a mask of grief, anger, and shame.
He was unwounded. You, too, felt the shame of it.
The next day, the Captain brought the survivors together. His words were brief,
but charged with rightous anger. We will not be taken so easily, he said. We will
not be defeated by these ogres, he said. We will make them pay, he said.
Days later, you and your fellow troops were overlooking a cave, deep in the north
country, far from the battle lines. The Captain had lead you here; no Legionnaire
general had given the order. This was the Captain's fight, not some pansy Empire
general's. The generals had ignored them, the Captain said, and now things had to be
taken into our own hands.
Your troop starts the raid early, before dawn....the Captain gives the order, and
you attack. The cave's defence is light, and taken unawares. Only after a string of
successes do you realize that you are raiding a cave that giantish families
(women and children) have been hidden. There are no giantish warriors here. This is not
a military victory; this is a punative slaughter.
The women and children fought bravely, but your troop over came them. You (along with
the others) are ordered to "leave no survivors"; that would include murdering
those that had surrendered. Most of the troops do just that, their hatred and anger
filling them. Some of your fellow brothers-in-arms even smiled beautifically as they
covered themesleves and the dry ground with giant gore.
There was a small gianish child laying curled at your feet. She was crying, and holding a
ragged cloth doll beneath her. You are angry at the giants, to be sure.....you
know them to be a cruel and viscious race...they are winning this war, and they
slaughtered your brothers-in-arms.....but you could not bring yourself to do it. For
some reason, you put away your weapon, loisted the child (she's big!!), and slipped
out of the cave. The girl-child offered no resistance.
You headed back to the the place of your own childhood - your parent's farm. "The
captain will have noticed my absence", you mumble to the child in your arms, "but
will he assume that I was ambushed and thus dead? Or will he consider me a deserter?
"Or even worse, did he see me take the giant child and so declare me an enemy?"
Other dark thoughts skitter across your mind as you travel. It's a long journey;
It's mid-July before you reach your father's home. It has changed quite a bit...but
then again, so have you.
It doesn't take long to convince your parents to take in the Giantish child. You hope
that years forward, if the child can be raised with kindness, perhaps he will not
have the savagery of his kin. Your mother agrees - but your Uncle does not. Still, you
were able to pacify him with tales and stories from the north country. Besides, you said,
work that requires teams of oxen to do would be light work for an adult giant.....
"If we can hide her for long enough." mutters your uncle.
They had come with overwhelming force, in the middle of the night, using their huge
greatswords like threshing scythes, cutting down groggy soldiers like ripe wheat. They
had used magic; they had appeared inside the stockade walls, everywhere at once. The
battle, such as it was, was decided in a few moments.
You came to the next morning, tended by an elvish matriarch of Morwyn, only one of her
gentle eyes visible behind her own bandages. Around her lay the survivors of the giantish
raid, including the Captain. The Captain's face was a mask of grief, anger, and shame.
He was unwounded. You, too, felt the shame of it.
The next day, the Captain brought the survivors together. His words were brief,
but charged with rightous anger. We will not be taken so easily, he said. We will
not be defeated by these ogres, he said. We will make them pay, he said.
Days later, you and your fellow troops were overlooking a cave, deep in the north
country, far from the battle lines. The Captain had lead you here; no Legionnaire
general had given the order. This was the Captain's fight, not some pansy Empire
general's. The generals had ignored them, the Captain said, and now things had to be
taken into our own hands.
Your troop starts the raid early, before dawn....the Captain gives the order, and
you attack. The cave's defence is light, and taken unawares. Only after a string of
successes do you realize that you are raiding a cave that giantish families
(women and children) have been hidden. There are no giantish warriors here. This is not
a military victory; this is a punative slaughter.
The women and children fought bravely, but your troop over came them. You (along with
the others) are ordered to "leave no survivors"; that would include murdering
those that had surrendered. Most of the troops do just that, their hatred and anger
filling them. Some of your fellow brothers-in-arms even smiled beautifically as they
covered themesleves and the dry ground with giant gore.
There was a small gianish child laying curled at your feet. She was crying, and holding a
ragged cloth doll beneath her. You are angry at the giants, to be sure.....you
know them to be a cruel and viscious race...they are winning this war, and they
slaughtered your brothers-in-arms.....but you could not bring yourself to do it. For
some reason, you put away your weapon, loisted the child (she's big!!), and slipped
out of the cave. The girl-child offered no resistance.
You headed back to the the place of your own childhood - your parent's farm. "The
captain will have noticed my absence", you mumble to the child in your arms, "but
will he assume that I was ambushed and thus dead? Or will he consider me a deserter?
"Or even worse, did he see me take the giant child and so declare me an enemy?"
Other dark thoughts skitter across your mind as you travel. It's a long journey;
It's mid-July before you reach your father's home. It has changed quite a bit...but
then again, so have you.
It doesn't take long to convince your parents to take in the Giantish child. You hope
that years forward, if the child can be raised with kindness, perhaps he will not
have the savagery of his kin. Your mother agrees - but your Uncle does not. Still, you
were able to pacify him with tales and stories from the north country. Besides, you said,
work that requires teams of oxen to do would be light work for an adult giant.....
"If we can hide her for long enough." mutters your uncle.