Now what would a young man want with an old cripple like me? In service to the army, are ya? Of course they would send you to me. They always do. Different reasons, but most of the time, they have you hear about my family. I love talking about my family to the blue bloods. My father was a veteran under the service of the kingdom of rhodoks. He defended towns more times than he cared to recount, and was even offered a chance at vassalage. Glad he rejected it. Man had a hero complex though, friad I inherited that. He was always gone, off killing someone.

Lunatic attacked a group of khergit lancers with naught but a rusty short sword and some fur to protect his family jewels. Got a shiny new lance in his shoulder for his trouble.Me mother was probably a whore. Never really knew her. By the time I was born, my father had retired, his sword arm useless in actual battle. He worked as a farmer, getting extra income as a trainer. The old man knew enough about fighting with his left arm that he taught me something about fighting. He used blunted iron swords. Not enough to kill, but they hurt. Before he died, he made me a squire to a high born knight. I embarrassed the man so many time by pointing out how he messed up that he challenged me to an honor duel. Killed him with a short sword.

Fool didn’t even have a helmet. I’m not one to complain though, as I’ve gone several battles without any armor. Least I knew how to fight. The boys father was not very well liked, as none of the high-born said a word against me, and even got me as a knight. First time I fought, I wet my greaves. If you’re infantry, then you probably will too. Cavalry don’t have this problem, or so I hear. Archers just keep away as much as they can. I think this battle is where my hero complex kicked in. right before we started, I threw off my cuirass, helmet, and gauntlets, drew my sword, and charged like a barbarian. Took down five before I got a mace to the face.

Chopped off the guys arm before I fell asleep. We lost the battle, of course, and I was sold off to the galley. Took the slaver hostage, and slit his throat before I escaped. Headed back to Graveth, requested my place back in the army, and he was rather shocked that I survived. Gave me my place back, as well as a bit of a medal for actually taking some people down. The regiment I was in was about 20 recruits, and 2 knights. The other knight was killed. We were probably a diversion. Would have been a better diversion if we had a half decent number of troops. I would detail all my battles, but you would be bored, or scared, to death by the time I was done.

To put it simply, I ended up fighting the Sanjar Khan. Mans the best sword fighter I ever fought, and I think I only won because he was sick. He still took my leg by the time the fight was over. I broke his hips, so I think we were ever. So now you see me. A cripple, no use in battle. Graveth apparently thinks that there is supposed to be a message to this. “blood doesn”t matter’? “if you fight the best sword fighter in the world, wear more than your birthday suit”? ah well, it doesn’t matter. Now leave, I’ve more important things to do all day them speak with recruits.