Small Beginnings.

Blegh, another day I have to get up and work, what life am I living at this point?

I stand up from my bed and tidy up the bear furs back on the wooden hay filled frame that is my sad decrepit bed.

After the war of the petals my village had fallen into decadence, so has the whole nation Atreas to be frank. I remember when this village was prosperous and great for adventurers supplying for the nearby dungeons.

Then the war came, the 2 conflicting sides in the civil war stole everything from everyone, leaving even the biggest cities stripped of what they once were, after the high king Ingrid succeeded the throne at such a young age he has been struggling to regain what was lost from his fathers reign.

We are still just a farming village, we supply bread rations to the army and are untaxed, we also have a tavern for adventurers, I wish to be an adventurer but im stuck as a lowly town guard, watching for giants and dragons, and the likes of it, just last week a troll attacked and I was no help to the adventurers that were luckily there to defeat it, my shifts are so long that I can never go to the nearby dungeon, making an endless cycle of my weakness.

I hate it, I damn it all to hel.

When I turn 18 in a few days im leaving this shitty job to set out and become a grand warrior, I will spread my legend across the land.

I enter the nearby barracks and put my chainmail coif on, then the padded cloth colored yellow and green. I grab the rusty shortsword and strap it to my side, I take the longspear and hold it up, and then place my sallet helmet firmly on my noggin before walking out and taking a deep breath in.

Refield village has a population of 113 people, it has low wooden walls with wood cabins letting chimney smoke out at a constant rate, like adding clouds to the skies.

The slow snowfall paints my clothes like a loving artist as I trudge up the ladder to the main wall wich arches over the villages gate.

This is my duty, to watch off into the forest and fields for trolls and red dragons.

Eu'up.

The town bustles with excitement, the inn keeper opens his doors, the merchants loas their goods and carriages. They are setting of to Dirk, the nearby trading hub which is a shipyard and small fishing community.

I have only been to Dirk a handful of times, by Zordacs blood its a shithole, its a den of thieves, peasants and scummy merchants which are also starting to leech into my community. They sell their insanely priced products everywhere they go like an ailment that wont go away.

Who in Hels name would pay 87 imperiums for a damned iron sword?

Not me, My steel shortsword was made by a craftsman 200 years ago and still holds up fine!

It is rusty and is good for chopping wheat for baking but atleast it can do that, and I payed nothing but 2 silver for it!

I was raised as a hunter and love archery but I can't afford arrows and no one in town knows how to use creation magic to mass produce weaponry and supplies enough.

The town mage Elrik sits in his tower all day and only comes down during supper to light everyones stoves and eat.

So much for damned sorcerors, I have never know a good one, and I only know ONE.

Anyway, If I let my thoughts take me then I am truly not doing the job the mayor gave me.

Now some might wonder why A weakling like me is the only guard in this town, well 2 reasons

I am the strongest young man in this town and my superior, the captain , took the other 3 guards hunting for a rogue druid who has been releasing our cattle.

And Captain Felt, didn't even dare to take a weakling like me lest I intend to die or be mamed by a tamed boar or owlbear.

I can only sit and think as I watch out into the fields.

Then some time passed.

I hear a slight rustling from a bush about 87 yards from myself.

Felt must be back with his band of meatheads already.

I kick the lever for the outer ladder and a latch opens releasing the ladder down, I climb down the outer layer of the wall, seeing the gate from the corner of my eye as I walk through the dew slicked grass.

Aproaching the area where the rustling was coming from I feel a strange sensation in my stomach like something horrible is about to happen, But It must just be the framp I ate for lunch acting up because I drank too much.

My feet stop mid walk because of the queasy feeling in my stomach.

Bile fills my throat and nothing is stopping it from releasing, my body lurches over and out comes some grayish green goop wich is definitely framp puke.

I sniff and realise what was giving me a horrible stomach ache, its a stench, a horrible stench.

It fills my nose again and my body trembles

I look back at the gate wondering if I can run in my current state, something is definitely wrong, nothing this close to town should have a stench like this.

I feel my boots stumble back, I begin slowly walking backwards, the air in my lungs is leaving and entering rapidly and my breath becomes shaky.

Something is definitely not right here.

The shortsword in my hand drops from my shakiness and I then arm myself with my spear as a rustling in the woods comes towards closer and closer.

Soon a humanoid figure makes itself clear to me, short and pointy ears an E-elf?

Then it fully jumps out its skin is green, its arms are muscular, and it wears old bloodstained leather armor

A-a G-o-b-b-b -lin?

No, a Hobgoblin!

A warm liquid runs down the legs of my padded trousers, pissing myself infront of the first monster I have ever seen, Im dead!

The hobgoblin laughs at me and unsheathes a rusty axe and licks his tongue out at me.

"We have fun tonight , little man."

The 6 foot muscle mass stomps at me and slowly turns into a run, I have 24 yards to decide what to do.

I need to fight!

I must fight, I cant let what my father taught me go to waste.

"COME AT ME YOU GREEN MILKDRINKER!"

I scream out holding my trembling spear out infront of me.

The Hobgoblin returns with a warcry of its own.

"For GRUMSH"