In the Shadow of the Tyrant

Benyamin's Journal (Entry 3)

Well it’s been ‘bout a month since that Alena woman sent me away over in Freystadt. I ’aven’t been doing much with this here journal since then, so I’ll try to catch up a bit on events.

First off, I was pretty pissed off at bein’ dismissed all casual like that, ‘specially since that blasted Gnome had me thinking that I was on my way to getting a promotion. I stormed about the city for a few days, but, without any other orders and nothin’ else to do there, wasn’t anything for me but to head back to the ol’ Horstmar garrison. Didn’t run into nearly as much trouble on the way back, neither. I tell you, that old squad is a magnet for trouble.

Well wasn’t even a day after I got back that some “urgent missive” came for me, straight from Fort Mϋllrose itself. Seems like something big was shapin’ up out in the West and down in Blightmoor, and they wanted a Captain of my experience to show up and beat some sense into the newer recruits. ‘Bout time I got some recognition, and from Boris Siegward himself, no less. Let’s see the fairy beat… no, wait, her orders were from ‘im weren’t they? Damnit all.

Anyway, I trekked on down to Fort Mϋllrose, took me a week or so nappin’ in the back of a hay wagon heading that way, and reported straight to the Commander. To my delight, and I don’t often use that word, he promoted me right there on the spot. Major El-Mofty. Got a nice ring to it, don’t it?


Now I ain’t one for complaining, but why do they always saddle me with the misfit squads? Boris kept calling them elites, but the two women always look shifty, the halfling‘s got some sort of complex, and one of them’s a giant bug for cryin’ out loud! It was bad enough when they sent me a tree, and now a bloody bug? Heck, this red-haired fellow, Rifnanhannel or somethin’, he’s the most normal of the lot, and he’ll run away soon as you shake a stick at ’im. Going to have to do something about that.

I will admit they’ve got some potential though. Neither the young lady with the bandages nor the big bug fellow seem to use any weapons, but heaven knows they don’t need them. She’s got hands quick as a snake, and ain’t afraid to use them in ways that make even me cringe, and he’s got four bloody arms. That blasted ant-thing can shoot out punches faster than I can follow. Let me tell you, I’ve seen some great brawls in my time, and nothin’ measures up to that.

Rifnanhannel’s got a good arm on ‘im, and doesn’t have any trouble hefting that big sword of his. Lad could really do some damage if he could buck up and fight for a bit. Commander Siegward said somethin’ about “pushing him ’till he snaps” – not sure what he means by that, but we’ll start with some verbal abuse next time we’re in training and see where we go after that.

That just leaves that halfling snot – he’s good with a bow, though I dunno how he manages to keep his balance with an ‘ead that big – and the wizard of the team. Now she’s good at magic, don’t get me wrong, but that personality of hers damn well rubs me the wrong way. She’s always questionin’ my orders and lordin’ over me and lookin’ down her nose – it’s bloody infuriating. Seems like the rest of the crew hates her as much as I do though, only one she gets along with is the other dame, with the dark hair. Well, they can keep each other, as long as they stay out of my hair and pull their weight when battle comes.


I was pretty bloody surprised when Boris told me his strategy for the next battle, though can’t say I disagree with it. Seems like that other squad of misfits I headed is on their way ‘ere, and they and I are going to have some sort of competition. According to the intelligence the Commander’s managed to collect, them Blightmoor bastards are relyin’ on getting some giants up to the walls of the fort, to make an entrance for the other mooks. Not a bad strategy, way better than you’d be expectin’ from the brutes that live out there.

Turns out Siegward’s counter to this is us. My new squad – which I’ve taken to callin’ Mofty’s Marauders, good name eh? – and the other team, led by “Captain” Köhler. We’re gonna head out and take down those giants before they can get to the walls. The Commander’s gone and taken it a step further, he’s gonna hand out promotions to the team that kills the most giants! Hell, this is my chance to finally get the rank I deserve. Lieutenant Colonel El-Mofty, hah!

Now my old squad knows how to handle themselves, but they’ve got nothing on the Marauders. Murderers, swindlers, and all around dangerous folk, these new guys are. I should ’ave this competition in the bag. A nice shiny new rank ought to more than make up for how troublesome these guys are to train.


Köhler’s squad showed up yesterday, and the Commander says we’ve got about two days to go ‘fore the Blightmoor bastards march on the fort. I could ’ardly keep my bearing when that fairy heard Siegward introduce me as “Major El-Mofty”. Hah! It’ll be some day when a bloody sidhe gets one-up on ol’ Benyamin.

‘Course, it’s not like it wasn’t good to see them all again. I jus’ got back from visiting with the Captain. Told her to watch out for ‘erself and all that. Bah, I never was any good with this soppy stuff. ’Course, now I just got back and heard that Marina was off causin’ trouble with the other squad. Something about stealin’ some Wizard’s spellbook. Now that they mention it, they did have two new humans hanging around with them when they got here. Well, two human fellows shouldn’t be nearly ‘nough to tip the scales in their favor. I’ve still got this one in the bag.

Now I’ve got to fill out this “incident report”. That Marina gal will be getting an earful from me later, no mistake. Bloody paperwork…

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