IX.
Mar Natas reporting here from the battle of the borders. Here our brave Filtwater Nationalists are defending our peaceful lives from the Barbarian Hordes. They are badly outnumbered. Figures show that the Hordes have ten men to every one of our fine men. Why here’s an officer now!” The reporter was the spitting image of his brother Morton, except a scar ran across his left cheek. He walked toward a soldier wearing armor and a white tunic with a lightning bolt insignia in the upper left corner of his chest. His shoulders were decorated with the Two-wings showing him to be a sergeant of the Nationalists.
He was busy fighting three of the Hordes’ men; his clean cut look contrasted sharply with their long, greasy hair, full beards and thick animal skins. His sword and shield fended off the vicious attacks of spear, battle axe and halberd.
“Excuse me, sergeant, can you spare a minute for the press? I am Mar Natas with the ‘Filtwater Times.’”
The sergeant didn’t even spare the reporter a glance as he hacked off the spearhead, dodged the thrust of the halberd and caught the axe with his shield. “I suppose I got a coupla minutes for the press if you don’t mind asking questions while I work.”
“Always a pleasure to watch a man do what he knows best.” Sugar dripped off Mar’s tongue. There was a hint of a glint in his eye. “So, sergeant, it appears that you’re badly outnumbered by the Hordes?” It was more of a question than a statement.
“Yeah, I guess so…” The spear without a head became an even more dangerous staff.
Mar ducked a sweep of the halberd, and the sergeant jumped away from it. The handle of the pole arm caught the Hordesman with the battle axe in the stomach. He doubled over gasping for air.
“…but it’s been worse.” The Nationalist took two steps into the path of the staff using his large shield to block any blows, he remained away from the halberd and stabbed the axeman in the side.
“What type of tactics do you use against 10 to 1 odds?”
The sergeant grunted as the staff caught him in the thigh. He was going to have a nasty bruise. His face became grim as he struck at the staffman. “Normally, we throw a coupla grenades, and the Hordes go runnin’ like rabbits. For some reason, that didn’t faze this group.”
“Grenades?” Mar smiled.
“Yeah! They explode, make a loud noise and throw bits of metal everywhere. Normally, we’d be using them now, but Archie’s been sick, and he’s the only one who knows how to make them.”
The staffman had jumped back giving the Nationalist room to block a swing of the halberd with his sword.
“Do you ever get a break from all the fighting?”
“Well, we are union, you know. So, of course, we get a break.”
The staffman swept the Nationalist’s legs. He landed on his back with a grunt, exhaled to catch his breath and rolled backwards avoiding a deadly swing of the halberd. “We’ve gotta fill our quota of ten enemies killed, and if we can get out of battle, we get to have free coffee at the canteen.”
“And how many have you killed today?”
“Me…” He blocked a swing of the staff with his shield, then through the shield down and grabbed the handle of the halberd. “I’ve killed 5 today.” He pulled the Hordesman off balance and slashed him across the neck. “Uh, make that 6. Four more and I’m gonna have a double iced latte with a shota raspberry. MMMMM…my favorite.” He got a dreamy look in his eye and barely fended off three blows from the staff.
“So, sergeant, tell me, what is the meaning of life?”
The Nationalist fended off four more blows before the question sank in and shocked him. “The what?” It was all he could do to defend himself.
“The meaning of life?” By the tone of his voice, Mar was asking an innocent enough question.
The staff smashed into the Nationalist’s skull as he failed to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing. The barbarian roared and ran off to fight another Nationalist as his foe sank to the ground.
Mar smiled. “Hmm, and I thought the Nationalists were never caught off guard.” His eyes gleamed red.
He was busy fighting three of the Hordes’ men; his clean cut look contrasted sharply with their long, greasy hair, full beards and thick animal skins. His sword and shield fended off the vicious attacks of spear, battle axe and halberd.
“Excuse me, sergeant, can you spare a minute for the press? I am Mar Natas with the ‘Filtwater Times.’”
The sergeant didn’t even spare the reporter a glance as he hacked off the spearhead, dodged the thrust of the halberd and caught the axe with his shield. “I suppose I got a coupla minutes for the press if you don’t mind asking questions while I work.”
“Always a pleasure to watch a man do what he knows best.” Sugar dripped off Mar’s tongue. There was a hint of a glint in his eye. “So, sergeant, it appears that you’re badly outnumbered by the Hordes?” It was more of a question than a statement.
“Yeah, I guess so…” The spear without a head became an even more dangerous staff.
Mar ducked a sweep of the halberd, and the sergeant jumped away from it. The handle of the pole arm caught the Hordesman with the battle axe in the stomach. He doubled over gasping for air.
“…but it’s been worse.” The Nationalist took two steps into the path of the staff using his large shield to block any blows, he remained away from the halberd and stabbed the axeman in the side.
“What type of tactics do you use against 10 to 1 odds?”
The sergeant grunted as the staff caught him in the thigh. He was going to have a nasty bruise. His face became grim as he struck at the staffman. “Normally, we throw a coupla grenades, and the Hordes go runnin’ like rabbits. For some reason, that didn’t faze this group.”
“Grenades?” Mar smiled.
“Yeah! They explode, make a loud noise and throw bits of metal everywhere. Normally, we’d be using them now, but Archie’s been sick, and he’s the only one who knows how to make them.”
The staffman had jumped back giving the Nationalist room to block a swing of the halberd with his sword.
“Do you ever get a break from all the fighting?”
“Well, we are union, you know. So, of course, we get a break.”
The staffman swept the Nationalist’s legs. He landed on his back with a grunt, exhaled to catch his breath and rolled backwards avoiding a deadly swing of the halberd. “We’ve gotta fill our quota of ten enemies killed, and if we can get out of battle, we get to have free coffee at the canteen.”
“And how many have you killed today?”
“Me…” He blocked a swing of the staff with his shield, then through the shield down and grabbed the handle of the halberd. “I’ve killed 5 today.” He pulled the Hordesman off balance and slashed him across the neck. “Uh, make that 6. Four more and I’m gonna have a double iced latte with a shota raspberry. MMMMM…my favorite.” He got a dreamy look in his eye and barely fended off three blows from the staff.
“So, sergeant, tell me, what is the meaning of life?”
The Nationalist fended off four more blows before the question sank in and shocked him. “The what?” It was all he could do to defend himself.
“The meaning of life?” By the tone of his voice, Mar was asking an innocent enough question.
The staff smashed into the Nationalist’s skull as he failed to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing. The barbarian roared and ran off to fight another Nationalist as his foe sank to the ground.
Mar smiled. “Hmm, and I thought the Nationalists were never caught off guard.” His eyes gleamed red.