Dozens of warriors from every part of Calradia waited inside the city of Nova Ichamur. Men-at-arms, knights errant, wealthy lords, and a few homeless persons were scattered throughout the sprawling city's towers, streets, and rooftops. Most stood in the city's central square.
Joe stood amongst this last group. It was hot, and crowded. Occasionally someone shoved somebody else. Every few minutes somebody got punched in the face, or kicked.
Somebody next to him said, "Butts." This was met with murmurs of agreement and giggles. Aside from this, and the occasional homosexual aside, most of the warriors present were silent. All eyes were on the beautiful woman standing upon the city's keep, the tallest building in sight. Her flame-red hair was silhouetted against a clear blue sky.
Joe groped himself.
Kesh cleared her throat, then spoke in a man's voice. Joe could barely hear her from down below. "Somebody go get the RoR guys, it's time for roll call." She looked at a piece of parchment, then shouted, "Holiday?!"
Someone a few feet away shouted up, "Here!"
"Dino_Penis?!"
A voice echoed back from across the city, "Here!"
"I'm_gay?!"
Everybody laughed. The whole city, in unison. Joe laughed with them--it never got old, and there was nothing Kesh could do to stop it. Every time roll call came around, he was verbally raped by Gay.
A naked guy beside Joe shouted up at Kesh, "Present!"
Kesh wiped away a few tears. The humiliation was starting to get to her. She returned to the roll call, though, calling out name after name until everyone had been signed up.
Joe's name had not been called.
His heart was beating like a war drum. His hands shook. He looked around wildly, sure that there would have been an extra spot for him. There was always an extra spot for FCC members. There was no way that Joe couldn't have been allowed in, unless someone else had joined the FCC.
Somebody... better than him.
Then Joe saw him, standing in the crowded square.
He was a handsome man. He carried a longbow--which no one used anymore because they were universally broken. A mighty erection was visibly pressed against his leather armor. Yes, Joe recognized this man back from the dead: The sWalker.
The sWalker had taken Joe's place in the roster. He deserved it. The most Joe could have hoped to contribute in the upcoming battle was launching horses off of the castle's walls into the ranks of the enemy, because for some reason he was a cavalryman. A level seventeen cavalryman, at that.
The SWalker, however, was a deadly archer--high-level. His arrows always struck home.
Joe knew what he had to do, though he loathed to do it.
He followed a crowd of warriors up the steps to the castle walls. Behind them remained the chosen few, who moved to the keep to arm themselves.
The crowd was weeping. Men cried and tore their hair. Joe pooped himself, but he didn't cry.
Somebody punched somebody else. There was no retaliatory strike.
They reached the wall. Joe looked out at the distant enemy camp.
Without warning, the crowd of unworthy warriors began flinging themselves off of the castle walls. There was only room for so many soldiers within. The rest had to go. They fell like rain to their deaths below.
The man in front of Joe hesitated, his tear-filled eyes staring down at pile of bodies below. "But I'm level thirty... I'm level thirty," He muttered, over and over.
Joe shoved him off. Swallowing his pride, he jumped too.
