The hamlet was bucolic.. The warm wind danced playfully over lush green hills and scents of lavender and thyme permeated the air.. A far cry from the bombed out craters and the limbless trees that dotted the landscape of the battlefields, the lone soldier thought.. Yea.. Limbless trees.. and limbless bodies.. One would not be able to tell that he was a soldier though.. He looked malnourished, broken, and he wore no uniform.. ..not that the ragtag army of idealists that went up against a superior foe had any uniforms.. No wonder they got raked by grapeshots and musket volleys and cut down by the gleaming steel of the Calvary sabres.. Yea.. Cut down.. To the bone.. The soldier took in a deep breath of the sweet air and ambled down the outskirts of this deserted but bucolic hamlet.. He was barely inside the town line when he came across another ambling figure heading out of town.. The figure was an old man.. Not of the end of years kind, for his eyes still showed vigour and strength.. He carried with him a sickle and an handful of root vegetables that looked to be foraged rather than harvested... You forage what you can in these desolate times.. The soldier thought.. The old man stopped when he got within an earshot of the soldier and said in his heavy voice: "Boy am I glad to see you" "Why is that old man?" The soldier asked.. "Well, you see.. Our humble town is a bit out of the way of the war so we hardly ever get any one passing through.." The old man continued with measured pace as he slowly inched closer towards the soldier.. "But this war has taken a toll on us just like others.." "We could sustain no livestock and our harvest of crops are always taken by the marauding armies".. The soldier gazed back at the old man's stare as they slowly approached.. "But we make do to sustain us you know..." The old man licked his lips.. "We forage for roots and vegetables and try to compliment our diet with whatever else we could find.." The old man continued, by now his eyes were gleaming.. "Rats... Bugs..." "And occasional wayward deserters.." The soldier finished the sentence for the old man.. "And yes.. occasional wayward deserters.. And zealous idealists who are on their way to joining the front lines".. The old man concurred.. By this time, his sickle was within a striking distance of it's intended prey.. "Funny you mentioned the zealous idealists.." It was now the soldier replying in measured tones.. "I joined this war for my ideals too.." "Except mine are more to satisfy an appetite that is indeed very very much like yours.." The soldier now licked his lips.. "And now that this war is at a closure my friend, I am now forced to continue my sustenance among out of the way hamlets such as yours"... The two men stared at each other with cold ruthless predatory gazes for a second... Then the sickle swung... The weapon that eviscerated many wayward victims came up swiftly towards the soldier's lower body.. But it was just as quickly, parried by a blood stained bayonet from the soldier.. And another bayonet came piercing from a high arc towards the old man.. ...There was a crackling, roasting fire on the edge of the hamlet that night..
I wrote it as a genuine appreciation/celebration to the true PvP spirit that you rarely but sometimes see on KaW.. Cheers to all those bad ass PvP players and nemeses..
...and then the old man, feeling incapacitated, replenished by casting the reinvigorating spell of Youth, and walked away with the girl!