Harthas Droigan 1

Here's a story I wrote during the schoolyear. I haven't posted anything in a while, but I doubt anyone reads this anyway. It all works out in the end.

Harthas Droigan made a career out of protecting the innocent. He had never been terribly good at business, and some of his more monstrous appetites prevented the public life that a politician or minister led. He was, however, the only man in Lord Fraan’s nation that could turn a mercenary army into a profitable venture. Owning no real property, Droigan’s wealth lay in the multitudes of poorly-trained, inexpensive warriors whose loyalty he so gallantly commanded. Many of Fraan’s citizens believed that these warriors would have turned to much darker habits than mercenary work if Droigan had not shown them the way to a better, if somewhat dangerous life. In contrast to Droigan’s army, Lord Fraan himself possessed a few well-trained, greedy, lazy soldiers and a nation that was always too aggressive and never well-defended. It was through these circumstances that Harthas Droigan carved a life of glory, honor, and fleeting wealth.

Lord Fraan had just enough men and just enough sense to keep his country from being torn apart by neighboring despots, but he did not have the resources needed to calm any troubles that arose within the land under his feeble gaze. This was unfortunate, as Fraan’s people were an unsavory lot who never seemed quite willing to obey the laws of their holy defender. To make matters a little more awkward for Fraan, Harthas Droigan had always shown an admirable loyalty towards his countrymen and resisted jobs from Fraan that involved quelling uprisings or other nasty, bloody pieces of business to that effect. Fraan was saved from this tight spot by the inherent cowardice and stupidity of his own people. As uncooperative and churlish as these peasants often were, they lacked the brains and the backbones to put any sort of organized rebellion together, and thus Fraan was able to rule comfortably. Besides, the peasants and villagers under Fraan had things far more frightening than a weak despot on their minds.

In the woods dotting the eastern regions of this land there lived a not insignificant number of trolls. These trolls, much like the trolls of any other part of the world, quietly tended their crops, worshipped their goddess and avoided contact with humans whenever it was possible and polite to do so. Some remarkable pottery had been known to make its way out of these forests. Unlike other trolls, however, these creatures had picked up a most unwelcome habit; every so often they would pick up axes instead of shovels and ransack villages under the protection of one Lord Althan Fraan. These attacks often came when the ranks of Fraan’s forces were at their thinnest, and it was at these dire times that Harthas Droigan would show his great worth. For an almost fair price, Droigan would assemble his troops and ride to the aid of his distraught countrymen. Droigan’s army would swarm through the forests like ants, slaughtering even the most helpless trolls and desecrating any temples they happened to find. One story tells us that Droigan was once so enraged by the devastation attributed to a troll chieftain named Naithlau that he led the attack on Naithlau’s village himself, cut off the hands of the chieftain’s daughter, and raped her until his soldiers could not tell if she was alive or dead. Droigan brought Naithlau’s head back to Lord Fraan, but not before the chieftain had seen his daughter’s body torn to shreds by Droigan’s hounds. Indeed, the savagery of the trolls was equally, and curiously, matched by the viciousness of Droigan’s vengeance. Lord Fraan could only marvel at the timeliness of Droigan’s interventions, though he could not guess at how timely they truly were.

On several occasions, Harthas Droigan would awaken with the realization that he was bankrupt. You already know that poor Harthas did not have a future as a politician, minister or merchant, and the life of a toiling peasant did not to appeal to him. It was in these dire times that Harthas most heavily relied on his own wit and the ignorance of his countrymen. Harthas would quietly seek out a few hundred of his least scrupulous men and send them east under the cover of night. These men would choose a village under the rule of Fraan, perhaps one that boasted a little too much wealth or women that were a little too attractive. These men would cloak themselves in furs and take up dulled axes as Fraan’s people commonly, though incorrectly, believed that trolls were hairy beasts that would kill once given the correct tools. Harthas’ army would slip into the village, slit the throats of the men, violate and bury the women, then burn the children alive. They would take all the plunder they cared to carry and move on to as many villages as would be needed to spread troll-induced panic across the countryside. These men would then quietly rejoin Harthas Droigan’s army in just enough time to be hired out to Fraan to deal with the bloodthirsty, savage trolls roaming the Lord’s land. Harthas Droigan made a career out of protecting the innocent.