"To'mas, come in. Have a seat". Captain Rico sat at his desk, which was strewn with a number of maps and dispatches. He puffed on his pipe and surveyed a document in his hand one last time before looking up to meet the single eyed gaze of To'mas. "Thank you for coming" he said as he re-folded the slip of parchment.
To anyone else, To'mas would look like a town drunk, or common vagabond. To Rico and the other men and women of the Roughneck Platoon, they thought of him as a damned hero.
"To'mas, a courier rode into camp today. He bore a set of orders..." Cpt. Rico began.
To'mas rose quickly to his feet. "Tell me the hour of our departure Sir, and I will have the platoon ready for battle."
"Sit down corporal" Rico sighed. It clearly bothered Captain Rico that To'mas never seemed relaxed. He never felt the need to smile. So driven to his duty that others believed he had forgotten what it was to be human. Yes, he was a hero to them, but that didn't mean they felt comfortable in his presence. "The orders are not for the Roughnecks. They are for you, and you alone. You are being ordered back to the Capital"
For the first time in 25 years, Tomas looked shocked. "To the Capital? But my place is here. There is so much still to be done. So many lives to save, and undead to kill."
Rico smiled, that reassuring smile he gave each time before sending the squad into battle. "You have done so much already To'mas. Take this as reward for your lifelong servitude to our cause. Take this breather to find a moments reprieve from the horrors of war. You deserve it. Besides, this summons is from General Sterling himself. I have a hunch that this may not be a completely restful leave in the end."
"If those be the orders of our general, so be it. When do I leave?"
"I would ask that you leave at first light. Travel during the day, make safe camp at night" Rico picked up again the parchment that To'mas now noticed bore the seal of none other than General Ambrose Sterling himself. Typically the seal would be that of his aide-de-camp as he dictated the details. Rarely did General Sterling draft his own missives. To'mas had only seen one other document that carried that seal. A commendation that he kept in a small hidden pocket sewn to the inside of his pack.
"Sir, may I see the orders?
Captain Rico leaned over the field desk to hand the parchment to To'mas. To'mas hoped that he hadn't noticed the slight tremble of his fingers as he reached for the document. Nervous, he unfolded it and began to read:
Captain Rico,
Please forgive the untimeliness of this message. I am in desperate need of men I can trust. Normally formal orders are written and signed in situations like this. Due to the nature of this request however, I am sending personal correspondence to you and your charge. Please be certain that no others read this message.
I know the situation at the front is dire, and that every soldier under your command may help tip the balance in our favor. Based on your field reports, I also know that this individual in particular has been instrumental in the defense of our realm. Losing him may be a huge set back to your mission. However, this need is great, otherwise I would never ask it of you… If we are successful in our endeavour, we may end this war once and for all.
His success at the front, as well as the quality and nature of his character are the exact reasons that I require his aid. I ask that you send Corporal To'mas McClaine to the United Center so that he can assist me in this mission that is of the utmost importance.
Please ask him to make all haste to me, so that we can begin implementing the next and hopefully final stage of this War.
Sincerely,
General Sterling
To'mas began to stare into the signature at the end of the missive. It was slightly different than the one that appeared at the bottom of his commendation letter. The one he had never deserved. He had studied and reread that commendation countless times as he contemplated the pangs of guilt and sorrow that had accompanied the award. He had memorized every word, and knew every curve and line of the script. While slightly different, likely due to age, this new document maintained all of same characteristics and style of its twin. As far as To'mas could tell it was the same hand that had signed each.
His mind was spinning. Why was he being called? How did General Sterling even still know his name. Sure they had met once before many years ago. But at that time he was a young man. Surely he hadn't remembered him from all those years ago. General Sterling hadn't been keeping tabs on him…had he?
"I will execute the orders as required", To'mas nodded again as he committed to the task. Likely he said it more to assure himself than Captain Rico.
"Good, return to your tent and get your gear ready. Travel light and make haste." Rico gave that assuring smile once again.
To'mas exited the tent moments later. His mind still reeling with questions. Why him? Why now? Over two decades had passed since his first and only meeting with General Sterling.
All those violent, bloody years. His mind drifted back to that fateful meeting. A meeting that probably shouldn't have happened, for a commendation he probably didn't deserve. He had just been at the right place at the right time. The regiment that he was assigned to had been ordered to help evacuate a small town on the edge of the Lithe Forrest. That Forrest, and the river that split it had been a natural boundary between an army of undead and the town. Reports had just reached the United that dead were rising and beginning to organize under the command of some evil Necromancer. That threat was just beginning to emerge from the east threatening several towns.
The river and the forrest bought them some time to get the civilians to safety…or so they thought. In actuality, the enemy had grown larger and more powerful than reports had indicated. They had forded the river at its southern edge and circled around the Forest as the evacuation was underway. To'mas had been sent to scout the perimeter with the Captain Galan and a Legion of 100 men. It was not long after they cleared the southern edge of the forrest, when they were beset upon by the horde of deathly warriors. Captain Galan knew that they were likely the only thing between the civilians and the swarming throngs of evil. He also knew that they would not survive a host of this size.
He set one of his men to ride back and warn everyone. Then he quickly had the battle horn sounded, while he formed up his men into a phalanx to charge. They were determined to buy the people some time to escape. Captain Galan drew his ornately gilded sword, a family heirloom that he had only recently inherited from late father. He cried out to his men, "For Glory, For Honor, For The People Of The United!!!", and kicked his spurs into the hind quarters of his war horse. The rest of the Legion quickly followed suit. To'mas rode to his right and Corporal Reed to his left. The three officers were the point of the spear. The other 96 men rode in a tight wedge formation behind them, perfectly spaced and highlighting the discipline that their harsh training had instilled in them. The charging horses crashed into the undead and decimated throngs of the lifeless beasts. Trampling ghouls, skeletons and zombies they cried out in fury and slashed through rank after rank of the denizen of death.
For a moment, they had cleared the field. They wheeled their horses around and took stock of the situation. Only 4 men had fallen in the initial charge yet they had struck down nearly all of the undead in the immediate area. Captain Galan called for them to form up again, as more creatures came into view. Their second charge began and the phalanx was just about to collide with the newly formed wall of undead when suddenly the animated bodies parted and a single figure stepped out into the void. A stooped and aged human, holding a staff raised his bony diseased looking finger at the lead riders. He seemed to mutter something inaudible that the human riders couldn't hear over the sound of crashing hooves and the hordes pressing in on them from the sides.
The tip of the spear was blunted suddenly as each person was stricken by an intensely painful sound that drove through their skull and pierced their minds. The horses which were similarly affected, collapsed sending their mounts forward into a pile. To'mas managed to roll to his side as the horse collapsed head first, snapping its own neck. Captain Galan and corporal Reed were not so lucky. They both fell under their horses getting crushed by hundreds of pounds of flesh and bone. To'mas attempted to stand, trying to clear his head and shake off the effects of the spell. His legs were still not responding, and he collapsed once again to his knees.
He was dimly aware of the screams of the other members of his unit as the sea of undead began to tear into their ranks. He was also aware that the old decrepit man that he had seen a moment before was walking slowly over to stand above him. He tried to clear his vision, and his hands scurried along the ground in a vain effort to find his sword. The cackling laughter coming from the approaching wizard clearly indicated that To'mas was no where near his weapon. Another blast of energy, different this time, hit him in the chest. He was thrown back a few more feet landing on the carcass of Captain Galan and his dead horse.
The necromancer continued to advance, slowly toying with him. To'mas closed his eyes. He was ready. This was the moment that he was going to be reunited with his wife and daughter. He wanted to be with them again. He wanted to see them, to hear their laughter to hold them once more.
His hand came to rest on something hard and cold.
He was ready…
He began moving his hand along the object.
The cackling came closer.
He was ready…but maybe…
He gripped the object, and felt something more. A leather wrapping.
The crunch of a a sandaled foot drew his attention, just mere inches from his other hand.
He was ready… but maybe, what if he could…
He tensed his muscles preparing.
The old necromancer leaned on his staff and stopped over him as he placed the tip of a jagged knife against To'mas forehead.
He was ready, but maybe he could just take one more of "THEM" out before the end.
He gripped the sword hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. He screamed a blood curdling scream that focused all the anger and hatred he had built up over the years. He let his pain guide his arm and channeled it into one last act of defiance. He swung with all his might just as the necromancer slashed at his face with the wicked looking dagger. A searing hot pain erupted along his face and left eye, yet he barely felt. He hardly felt the sword as it pierced the neck of the necromancer. He didn't feel it hit bone, or tear muscle. For at that very same moment his body began to tingle and fill with an intense warmth. It radiated from his center so quickly, he noticed nothing else. He felt heat building faster and faster. It quickly egan to emanate through his limbs and into the sword and turf below him. The heat turned to a searing pain as his perspective seemed to shift. He was lifted up and could see everything clearly from up high. He saw his body resting on the field, his sword arm thrust upwards into the neck of the necromancer. He saw the entirety of the battlefield. His comrades were dying, the undead were slaying indiscriminately. His anger continued to swell. Then he released it, he sent it out from him with another primal scream. He wasn't sure what happened next. A white light began to spread from his body and that of the necromancer. The light became a searing beam of energy that began to crackle and spread, arcing out from the necromancer in jagged lines. It began to bounce from undead to undead. The light continued to spread behind the sparking lines incinerating all undead it came into contact with. It spread over the battlefield until all of the dead were burnt to ash.
The last thought he had as the searing white light blinded him was, "I'm ready, and I took all those bastards with me!!!
Then everything went black.
He awoke days later in a wagon that bounced along a cobbled street. "NO" he thought.
"No, gods please, I was READY!" He mumbled aloud. His lips were dry, his throat parched. His voice sounded foreign and more gravely than normal.
"Eh, he be awake. Gunther, go and get da Sergeant. He be wantin' ta know that our boy here did wake." a rough voice said from the head of the wagon. To'mas thought he heard the sound of horse hooves drifting away from the cart.
To'mas head pounded. His face still burned, and he could tell that a bandage covered half off his face and seemed to be obscuring his view. He tried to sit up. But quickly laid back down as a wave of nausea hit him. He felt tears streaming from his eyes, which caused the bandaged side of his face to burn all the more.
"I was ready" he whispered once more thinking again of his wife and daughter. The world went dark.
To'mas would later recover. He regained all of his faculties save his left eye, which had lost all sight. A vicious scar now ran across his face, and the milky white eye provided evidence that his vision would never again be the same as it had once been. He had been healed when all he wanted was to die. He had to listen to the story of that moment, over and over from the other survivors. Each telling it from a different perspective. Each one embellishing the story just a bit more. One said he was a wizard. Others said he had grown to the size of a Storm Giant and every where he stepped, scores of undead were slain. But the truth was so much simpler.
He had invoked some hidden power within Captain Galan's family sword that had not only slain the necromancer, but somehow saved the remaining men. He had done it by accident. Twenty three men had survived that frightful encounter because of a random stroke of luck. One of those men had carried To'mas off the battlefield on his shoulders. They traveled back on foot, eventually catching up with the rest of the regiment. To'mas was loaded onto a cart, as the evacuation of the town continued. All the while To'mas unconscious hand continued to tightly grip the ornate family sword of his commanding officer.
Three hundred and seventy eight souls had been saved. Hundreds of the enemy forces vaporized. All credited to the actions of a desperate man who was ready to give up and die. That was what his commendation was for. That was what General Sterling had recognized him for. Failure in battle and giving into futility and hopelessness. He received a medal for giving up and wishing for death.
He had tried to explain that to the General. He had tried to return the sword. General Sterling explained that the sword was now attuned to him, and no one else had been able to unlock its power. Plus Captain Galan had no heirs…no next of kin. "No", he had said, "That sword had been destined for you. You will achieve great things with that sword and through you it will aid all of the realm"
Those were the last words Sterling had spoken to him, as he was ushered out of his office and sent back to his regiment, under newly assigned Captain Rico.
Now, decades later, General Sterling wanted his help.
To'mas went back to his tent as instructed, clutching the orders in his fist. He added the orders to the secret pocket along with his commendation and lit the heating lamp in the corner of his tiny space. Grabbing a pitcher, To'mas left once more to the edge of the river near their encampment. He filled the pitcher and drank directly from it quenching a thirst he hadn't realized existed. Then he filled it again with the cold crisp water and began hiking back to his quarters. The tent was a bit warmer when he returned. He set the pitcher next to the basin near his bedside table in the hopes that it would warm up as his tent continued to increase in temperature. He removed his armor, packed his bags and settled in for some sleep.
As always, To'mas woke with a start. He couldn't remember his dreams, but he knew they were not pleasant. He never slept well, resting in fits and starts. He sat up, questioning once again how he had made it one more day. He rose to his feet and poured the water into the basin and began using a cloth to wash himself. Donning his armor once again, he scooped up his pack and broke down his cot and field table. Then he stepped outside to tear down his tent.
Knowing he was to travel light, he returned the tent, cot, and field table to the quartermaster, and checked in once more with Captain Rico before heading out on the road.
The first day of travel passed by without incident. There were very few traveller's on the road, this close to the front lines. He slept on the ground in his bedroll, using the alarm system he had created to help alert him of intruders. A thin wire was stretched around his encampment and hung from a number of small trees. Small silver bells hung from each which would chime if anyone tripped the wire.
The second day of travell ended when he arrived at the outskirts of a mid sized town. To'mas navigated towards the nearest inn, and could faintly hear the sounds of a bard from the common room. He was singing the latest installment of rubbish about some "fabled heroes" that were helping to win the war.
So if you find yourself in trouble
Make haste on the double
All the way to the United,
Where all are invited
Lodge your complaint with the Army,
About the trouble at your Farm-y
And don't you ever dismay,
For the Squirrels will make their way,
The Bloody Squirrels
Will Save
The DaaaaaYYYYY!!!!
"HA!" He thought. "The Bloody Squirrels". If they existed he had never seen them. Not their battle standard or any of their amazing feats of strength and heroism. "No, there are no Bloody Squirrels helping to save the day. It's just poor soldiers like me on the front lines."
To'mas negotiated some rates with the innkeeper and went up to his room before he started his journey again the next morning.
This pattern of resting on the road or in whatever town he happened across continued for six days. During that time his mind drifted back to his youth, his journey into the armed forces and his family.
He thought if his father, Jonathan who had reached some local acclaim as a Sheriff of York (Not Old York, but the one built after Old York had burned to the ground).
During his time as Sheriff, Jonathan intervened when a group of Goblins attacked and held members of the foreign Nakatomi trade family hostage. Jonathan knew that the death of such a prominent family within the Village of York would result in a potential war between York and the rest of the Nakatomi tribe. He decided to infiltrate their complex covertly and one by one killed each goblin, to include their leader Hans Grublin.
After retiring from his role as Sherrif, he took his pension as a lump sum as well as the remaining reward from Nakatomi, and purchased a large farm in the country. Jonathan moved his wife and son to make their lives as farmers. With no experience as a farmer, the family initially struggled to tame the fields. The first year or two the ground barely yielded enough food for them to survive let alone turn a profit. After a few years the McClaine family became self sufficient and led a quiet life living off the land.
After the natural death of Jonathan, and later his wife, To'mas and his fiance took over the farm with the aim of getting married and raising a family of their own. Married at the age of 18, they were blessed with a daughter a year later. They both naively thought life was good. To'mas was a mediocre farmer, but they had a stockpile of grain and coin from what Jonathan and his wife had left behind, and they were comfortable. After two years though, and a pair of horrible winters it was apparent that To'mas couldnt sustain the crops. The couple and their daughter fell on hard times. To make ends meet, To'mas decided to head to the capital to join the Army.
The Army was headed by General Sterling, and had a reputation for only accepting the strongest recruits. The training was grueling, and the wash out rate for the volunteer soldiers was extremely high. To'mas was determined to succeed so he could began sending his wages home and finally provide a good life for his family.
It took him three days to ride to the capital. Jonathan had never neglected to train To'mas in the martial arts, and he had become quite adept with a sword. How proud they both had been when he had finally managed to slip an attack past his father's defense with his practice sword, while screaming "Yipee Ki-yay". Jonathan's ribs had been bruised severely from that final strike. Yet, despite the pain and the tears in his eyes, he couldn't help but begin to laugh heartily at his son's blatant attempt to mock him with his favorite war cry. They both fell to the ground in hysterics, making the bruised ribs hurt all the more. It had been one of the best days of To'mas early life, and Jonathan's too.
Those lessons, and memories carried him quickly through his military training, to the top of his class. After training and graduation, he served in a small platoon that patrolled the countryside. He was quickly promoted to Corporal and discovered he was making very good money as the Army was well funded and well equipped. He sent back the majority of his money, never needing much for himself, and took leave whenever he was able to visit his wife and daughter.
After about a year or so, serving in the Army, the world turned upside down.
One of his initial battles was 3 miles from his farm. Realizing that his family was in the path of the the advancing horde, he left his regiment to race to them. A decision that saved his life, but couldn't save his loved ones. His regiment was decimated by the undead as he sifted through the ashes of his farm. He would later learn that the men he left would begin rising again to bolster the lifeless ranks of the undead at he exact moment when he was falling to his knees clutching the chared skeletal remains of his daughter and wife. On his wife's finger he found the wedding ring he had given her years before. Oddly it was untouched by the fires that had burned her flesh from her bones. He took that ring, stringing it onto a leather cord to wear around his neck along qith his parents wedding bands. He vowed he would slay the undead, and keep killing them until no more were left on the face of this continent.
His mind was brought back to the present. It was now the 7th day of travel to the Capital. A fateful day, as it was then that he came across the odd group of characters: Mortos, Garrus, Lupin, and Ffion. That was the day he discovered General Sterling had died. That was the day he added yet another oath to his long list of promises. He would find the person who murdered General Sterling and bring him to justice. His heart broke a little more that day, when he realized he would never know the mission General Sterling had chosen him for, or why.
To'mas resolved himself to travel with this new motley crew. They were a formidable group, each one very powerful individually. They seemed to fight well together, as he discovered shortly after joining them. However, To'mas couldnt fully understand how they had survived in this world as long as they had. They lacked discipline, they took unnecessary chances, and they certainly didn't know how to cleanse the battlefield after each fight. The looks he got after beheading their first real opponent still confused him. That was undead 101 in Military school, make sure your enemy couldn't rise against you ever again.
Despite this he knew that he would continue on the path with them as their goals were aligned. For now anyway. He could not tell if his general mistrust of all people had clouded his opinion of them, or perhaps it was due to decades on the battlefield. What he could tell was that his feelings of apprehension were shared by these new travelling companions. He slept away from the group, and rode alone at times. He could hear them arguing, when they thought he was far enough out of earshot. He had to chuckle to himself. No matter how many times he had told them his story, they never asked for his traveling papers and orders. Never demanded any proof. He wondered how long it would take for one of them to consider that he might actually have a copy of General Sterlings orders. He certainly wasn't going to offer anything. Keeping them guessing seemed appropriate until he knew more about them in turn. If asked he would share the paperwork, but his days of volunteering had long since ended.
For now they led him to General Sterling's killer. Who knew what other answers he would garner along the way...