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[Charger]

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He laid face first in the dirt sweat dripped from his pores and blood trickled out of the deep slits his face. His muscles ached and his bones were cracked. He had only been fighting for a few minutes, and he was already physically impaired. He could hear the clanking of the metal boots; slowly his opponent approached his beat up body.

The end of his life was closing in; his death was soon to come. To Charger though, this was just the beginning of a new life. He was not afraid of death; he embraced it. He always liked adventure and was curious to see what was in store for him. Perhaps reincarnation would be an option for him? He had no idea, he could do nothing but wait and see, and to him this was much worse than death.

He felt the thick rough hand grab at the back of his gorget. The front of his gorget tightened around the front of his neck as he was torn from the ground. The large man held Charger in his place his beaten body slumped helplessly. A broken arm, six cracked ribs, two busted knees, a dislocated nose, ten missing teeth, and a puddle of blood left Charger helpless, almost lifeless.

He wasn’t going to die like this not beaten to a pulp and stabbed by one lousy foe. Charger was a great warrior he had fought in many battles, most of which were more difficult than this brute of a man. How did he lose this fight? He fought as hard as he could, for some reason he couldn’t hit the man or even hurt him. This wasn’t right at all, something was terribly wrong.

The brute whispered into his ear, “Waste no time, strike hard and fast. He was killed in his sleep, by the shadows.” The man pulled out a dagger and wrapped his arm around Charger throat. He slowly pressed the daggers tip towards the front of his throat, piercing the skin.

Waste no time, strike hard and fast…in his sleep? What does he mean in my sleep? I wasn’t killed by shadows, I can feel him…but I can’t see him.

Charger spun around, allowing the dagger to lightly slice across his throat. Blood trickled from the open wound; he spun 180 degrees and looked at where his foe should have been. There was no one there, nothing but shadows. He was now confused, he couldn’t control his arm, and the arm that wasn’t broken reached down to his dagger sheath. Slowly removing the dagger from its sheath he thrusts it forward.

The room was dark, his bed was soft and the blankets were warm. Leaning over him with a dagger to his throat stood the brute man. He was an assassin of the night, using to shadows to kill. Charger looked towards the man, he looked shocked pain stricken shocked. He felt warm liquid run down his arm, he looked down to where his hand held the dagger. The hand held the dagger that was lodged into the man’s abdominal; the man gasped for air and fell over onto the bed.

The whisper had awoken him; he couldn’t hurt the man in his dreams, because he had no control. Sweat beads began to drip down his face; he had almost died this night. What a dishonorable way to die he thought to himself. Sitting up he leaned against the back of his bed, he leaned across to his night table and felt around. He felt his book, his safety this night, than he felt his liquor bottle. Sliding his blood-covered fingers around the bottle he gently grasped it in his hand. Lifting it off the table he pulled it over to him, biting down on the cork he jerked his head back pulling it out of the bottle. Placing the rim of the bottle around his lips he leaned his head back and took a swig.

“I can’t believe I almost died.” Charger chuckled contently to himself.
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Fight for pride, fight for honor, fight to kill, but most of all fight for gold!