Insecurities and Tribulations

[Reckless Banzai Screamer 15456]

 

 

“Dear Allah, engulf me in flame so that I may blaze through the ranks of the kafir until you deem I should burn out, leaving nothing left in the scorched path I create.” - Nafis Yar, 1529

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[!] Deep in the jungles on the Isle of Asul, a camp of thirty or so rag-tag soldiers sit around a few camp fires spread around the clearing. The skies darken as dusk settles on the mosquito and ebola infested land.

 

“Ya’ married a white girl, boy? Your daddy woulda’ whooped your ass, your mama woulda’ whooped your ass. **** your family all the way down to the Kato line outta’ descend from the Seven Skies and just take turns whoopin’ your ass passin’ you around like a hook-ah.”

 

 

Those around their particular fire roared with laughter as Rakim shook his head in disbelief. “I’m sure baba and mama would understand given the circumstances.” He replies to the former, Hazelmere the Black Halfling. “Besides, why don’t ya’ find my sister and get on her? She’s been with two white folks. That’s one more than me.”

 

“I don’t know her too well I wasn’t nuttin’ til your baba went to Aeldin.” Hazelmere the Black Halfling said. “And I’m just sayin’ boy. You been out in Haria for a few years now and you barely got a grasp on your Qalashi. How do ya’ even get by tryin’ to order food?”

 

“I don’t. I have Ericka cook all the time.”

 

“And she ain’t even that good of a cook!”

 

The mercenaries roar with laughter once more as Rakim waves his hand dismissively. “Let’s just get back to business. So I still got some of the explosives from back home. We load them up in the wagon and then we roll it down the hill at the target. Big boom.” Rakim makes an exploding noise as he distances his hands from each other to mimic the effects of the rockets going off in the crate by Hazelmere.

 

“Least you’re as destructive as your father was, ‘ajnabi.” A few around the camp snickered at Hazelmere’s comment. “But judgin’ by your old liege lord Emperor Philip most of yall bigguns are destructive in your own right. Overdone at this point. Your baba wanted yall to live a normal life. And you out here fightin’ like a Kharadeen terrorist and…-”

 

“SHH.” Rakim pressed his index finger to his lips glaring at Hazelmere.

 

“All because yall kissed and made up don’t mean I can’t talk my **** ya hear? None of the Qali ya hired even care. And where’s that elf at?”

 

“When do we get paid, Dr. Ben?” A Qalasheen mercenary calls out interrupting the one on one conversation.

 

“Elrach probably…- HEY, HEY.” Rakim looks over to the mercenary. “When we loot the city we’ll all be rich. Maybe we’ll even have a kingdom to go with it.”

 

“You’re tryin’ too much to be like your daddy, ‘Doctor Ben’.” Hazelmere comments mockingly.

 

“Let me tell you, Hazelmere. These folks are the WORST thing to have happened to humanity since slavery.”

 

“But when did w-” A Qalasheen mercenary is interrupted as a bolt penetrates the side of his head and he collapses immediately on to the ground.

 

“WE’VE BEEN SPOTTED!” Someone in the camp shouts out as everyone rose from their seats, a few falling back down as they are struck down by the aggressors.

 

Rakim stares out into the dense jungle seeing only the growing darkness of the night. A small brown hand reaches out to grab Rakim shoulder and yanks him down onto the ground. A bolt whizzes overhead just as he’s pulled down.

 

“Now ain’t the time to go to la-la land, boy.” Hazelmere snarls looking into Rakim’s eyes. “Wake up and get to the damn wagon, go!”

 

Rakim rolls over onto his knees and rises carefully before making a break for the wagon. Around him swords clashed as the mercenaries and the enemy soldiers fought, bodies from both sides falling to the ground. After making it to the wagon, a hand reaches out to lift Rakim up into the wagon.

 

“Afwan, sir.” The hand belonged to Wasalu, one of the mercenaries. He reaches behind himself and holds a bow out to Rakim. After the latter takes it, Wasalu leaves a quiver of arrows by the wagon opening. “Take what you need. We have enough to take out each and every kafir but we need to go now.”

 

“Wait, Hazelmere first.” Rakim squints out into the distance as he sees the small brown hobbit’s bright grin in the darkness. A few other mercenaries rush into the wagon, one of them being struck down by a crossbow bolt to the back before falling back into the mud. Rakim draws an arrow from the quiver and lines it up with the bow’s sight before letting the arrow loose. It was too dark to see if it had hit anything but he had put the bow down just as Hazelmere reached the wagon and hoisted the ‘Champion of House Yar’ up into it after taking the crate of explosives from him. “Alright, get Sheev pullin’.”

 

A mercenary riding the horse known to all as ‘Sheev’ clicks his tongue three times and nudges the side of the horse with his right knee to get the mount pulling, leaving most of the mercenaries behind to certain death as they are overwhelmed by numbers. The sole thing guiding the wagon is a lit torch held by the mercenary riding the horse.

 

“Ya ain’t even found Leopold. Ain’t he the reason ya left everythin’? Infact where are all of your buddies that were supposed to tag along?” Hazelmere asks after a long while of silence on the ride.

 

“Since we’ve reunited ya’ been on me about everythin’.” Rakim replies, looking towards the back opening of the wagon into the night.

 

“I do it because I actually care, boy. I ain’t seen ya’ since ya’ were a youngin’.”

 

“Then why are ya’ still callin’ me a boy?”

 

“Because ya’ still young compared to me. Now start answerin’ my questions. Why in tarnations ya’ tryin’ to get yourself killed? Ya’ brought thirty hired blades to take down a kingdom. You’re a tick to a hound with all due respect.”

 

“Vander Code - to see to the end of any enterprise begun.” Rakim says in a monotone expression.

 

“If you all don’t mind me butting in, rafiqis..” Wasalu begins. “With only a handful of us left after that ambush we are in no condition to fight anything or anybody. I’d much rather return to Haria alive and empty handed then die and still empty handed. Allah does not let gold come with us to heaven.”

 

“See RAKIM? Listen to your fellow Qali. Most hired blades ain’t as generous with good advice for free.” Hazelmere folds his arms across his chest glaring at Rakim.

 

“Rakim?”

 

“Doctor Ben Carson his lil’ moniker because he high tails it like his daddy tryin’ to be like him.”

 

“Man, yall a bunch of defeatist. Wood elves. Yall wood elves. MALY-AMES.” Rakim says with annoyance. “I like you, Wasalu. But I DO mind ya’ buttin’ in.”

 

“Ya’Allah! RIGHTFUL SULTAN Rakim YAR? Oh, your baba Nafis taught us all how to get paid! I’ve looked up to Dunamis since I was a child.”

 

“Woah, woah woah!” Rakim shakes his hand, raising his hands up. “My baba wasn’t in Dunamis he was in Hallowvale Contractin’. He FOUGHT Dunamis.”

 

“Hallow wha…?”

 

“Owyn help us.” Rakim slides further down where he sat, his back dragging against the interior of the wagon. As he did so, an arrow flies overhead and pierces Wasalu’s neck. The Qalasheen mercenary begins to gurgle on his words as blood spilt from his mouth and he fell onto the crouched Rakim.

 

“WASALU!” In a surprised reaction to the man’s death, Rakim holds the dying mercenary in his lap.

 

Hazelmere looks towards the opening in the wagon seeing several archers on horseback riding behind them. One of the horses trip on the overgrowth of the jungle, sending the rider flying onto the ground and leaving them behind in the chase. “We’ve company, folks. And they’re gainin’ on us.” Hazelmere crouches down and closes his eyes. While the others scrambled for weapons, small sparks of flame ignite in the black halfling’s right palm. He rises up to peep back over. “SUNSHINE POWER!” He shouts, hurling a ball of fire towards the horsemen. Albeit the flames did not hit any of them, the fire spooks the horses and leaves them in disarray briefly to slow them down.

 

Rakim reaches out to take the bow and pulls out an arrow from the nearby quiver. As he takes aim, the wagon rolls over a nearby tree root protruding from the ground and he loses his grip on the arrow and embeds the bad shot into a nearby tree.

 

“Thirty-Two fuckin’ years old and ya’ ain’t even married your white woman yet, ya ain’t got kids yet, ya leave all your riches behind to live in the Al-Khaleed slums to wage war on a country that ain’t even your own fight. Ya either stupid or just an angry youth.”

 

“YES I’m angry. I’m REAL ANGRY.” Rakim roars as he rises to a stand and slams his fist on to his chest. He was out in the open ready to be fired on. “Listen up, infidels, homosexuals, simple minded sonuvabitches. Hit me now I’m ready to die!”

 

“Get outta’ the way!”

 

“I can’t get a hit!”

 

The few mercenaries left in the wagon bark at Rakim as he stood in the way of them from firing back at the horsemen. Hazelmere sends a kick towards the back of Rakim’s knee to force the seething Qali back down for cover. “If there’s ONE THING ya’ got wrong about your daddy is that he wasn’t a follow. He was a leader. I thought ya’ mirrored that when I heard ya lead the Westerlands’ army. But all ya did was follow around one man because ya daddy made him a King.”

 

“I ain’t ever asked to lead ****. I was told to lead and I did. I paid my fuckin’ dues!” Rakim shouts back at Hazelmere. “If I had it my way, MY TRUE fuckin’ way, I’d still be in Aeldin and I’d have Almas with me.”

 

“Ya’ ain’t in Aeldin anymore, boy. Ya’ did GOD’s work, ya’ did your duty. But if there’s one thing yall bigguns got wrong about life but that your daddy got right was that yall need to stop livin’ for others and start livin’ for yourselves. Ya’ care about your sister so much but ya’ left her in Bastion to follow Leopold. And where /is/ Leopold now? It’s just you, me and paid swords. It’s just YOU. ME. AND PAID SWORDS. So much for family.”

 

“I’m a dragon. Leopold made me into a dragon! I told Leopold's wife I'd bring him back alive when the mission was over. BUT I CAN'T FIND HIM.”

 

“Them Horens may have given ya’ fancy titles and wealth but ya’ ain’t a dragon. You’re a YAR. Ya’ paid your dues now live your life for the family ya' actually got. Most career soldiers ain't lucky like ya' are. Ya' got kinfolk.”

 

They began to slow down and everyone looked towards the front opening of the wagon, seeing the mercenary on Sheev ride off with the harness cut off, abandoning those in the wagon.

 

“****.” Those left said in near unison. The wagon came to a halt as the horsemen caught up.

 

“ALL OF YOU, COME OUT NOW WITH YOUR HANDS UP.” One of the men on horseback called out. They began to surround the wagon and everyone inside the wagon kept low, unsheathing their sabres.

 

“Like I told ya’ before, boy. Ya’ HAD a brother named Hanno but he died in Johannesburg. It’s just you, Almas and maybe some random bastards of your uncle Enepay floatin’ about. If ya’ wanna’ live for anybody, live for your family. Get married, have kids. Make you and your kinfolk happy before ya' make others happy.” Hazelmere says in hushed words as he reaches into his pocket and retrieves an opened letter before holding it out to Rakim. “I didn’t wanna’ show ya’ this. I read it too beforehand so don’t be too mad. But this might be the only Horen I’m really likin’. If ya’ make it out of this like ya’ made it through a lot of things, read it then.”

 

Rakim takes the letter hesitantly and reads the front of it : His Majesty Caius I of House Horen.

 

“After ya’ make it out, Rakim. As uh...representin’ your daddy here, he’d order ya’ not to die. So I order ya’ not to die.” Hazelmere looks to some of the other mercenaries awkwardly. “Err...none of ya can die either if ya’ wanna get paid.”

 

“Ain’t too many of them, Hazelmere. I’m sure with our ways with the blade and your magicks we’ll all make it out of this.” Rakim replies with a confident smile

 

“Damn right we will, boy. Alright, so some of yall need to leave through the front and the rest leave through the back.” Hazelmere gives Rakim a thumbs up as the men crawled into positions ready to rush out of the wagon.

 

“IF NONE OF YOU ARE COMING OUT, WE WILL DESCEND UPON THEE!” The man on horseback calls out once more. The men begin to dismount from their horses as they approach the wagon. Hazelmere closes his eyes.

 

“Hey, you bastards. EAT OUR *****!” Rakim shouts out as he and the mercenaries began to rush out of the wagon. From both sides having been surrounded, the mercenaries are shot via arrow fire as they leave the wagon having no chance to fight back due to the overwhelming assault. Rakim embraces Wasalu’s corpse tightly as he exits out, the latter in death acting as a meat shield as an arrow strikes his neck again. Blood splatters onto Rakim’s face as he drops Wasalu and begins to run into the jungle’s depths. “WITH ME HAZELMERE!”

 

Behind Rakim, the soldiers finish off the remaining mercenaries and paid no mind to Rakim in their conflict. A loud explosion is heard from the wagon as Hazelmere stayed behind, igniting the crate of explosives they had taken with them meant to be used for Rakim’s plans. A loud sound rings in Rakim’s ears as he continues running, a chill going up his spine.

 

 

As the sun began to rise, Rakim discovers Sheev with the mercenary that had abandoned them laying on the ground with his neck snapped. Rakim reaches out to run his hand through Sheev’s mane and swallows the lump in his throat. He reaches into his pocket to retrieve the letter Hazelmere had given him before taking out their pursuers in a fiery inferno.

 

https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/158499-letters-from-caius-i-dear-rakim/

 

In a rare instance, perhaps the third or fourth time in his life thus far, Rakim breaks down into tears. The Champion of House Yar was consumed in Owyn's flame, having lived for those he called family. Rakim starts making the long trek back to Haria to get Ericka and set off back home to the Westerlands. From henceforth, it was family first.

 

HOUSE YAR

"Winter into Spring"

((OG mock up credits to Starryy for ^))

[King of Cartography 546]

John Lyons cheers, his friend would return soon!

[Imi 425]

Ericka remains at home, awaiting Rakim's return eagerly. Her fingers idly twitch at the wedding band around her finger, gaze cast out to the streets of Haria.

[DarkElfs 160]

*Ser Rolien Vulnear sit at home chugging bottle of rum while partYing with his dog*

 

Come on willow get moved

 

*Rolien begin do jig while continuing to drink with dog willow running around barking*

 

(Always good tike drink)

[cablam 477]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.