Fred woke up on his sleeping bag. He wasn't a lord who slew dragons. He
was a private in the Hespan armies, marching against mysterious invaders
who have sailed in and taken much of the Hespan coast line. He was dirty,
sweaty, hot, he hated his fellow soldiers and the only damn decent thing
about this whole mess was that somehow, somehow they got decent food. Fred tosses and turns on his sleeping bag and stares at the moon through the tree branches above. This was intolerable. Fred decided to go awol.
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7/4/2004 9:07:07 PM
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