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Nigel -- A Story by David Mather
David Mather's second story about the characters and units within Age of Empires is a welcome addition to the genre of game-inspired fiction. Now we know what's really going on in the minds of those little guys we click on.
Read David Mather's 1st story, Zyxphratl
It was always tense on the front line. Nigel watched his burly crew as they made minute and ultimately pointless adjustments to their pride and joy, the Stone Thrower "Enola Gay." He knew 'Nola didn't need maintenance, but it helped to keep the boys' minds (such as they were) off the battle to come.
He threw his cigarette into the dirt and ground it out with his foot. Damn! When would he remember that boots would only be available in the Iron Age? He limped over to the nearby Hoplites. "How ya doing, guys?"
Twenty heads turned his way and began speaking together in a chanted chorus. "We are the mighty Hoplite formation. We live or die together in formation. Not fire nor flood nor wind nor War Elephants can break us up. We are well, thank you for asking."
"Any news?" he asked.
"We are the mighty Hoplite formation. We live or die together in formation. Not fire nor fl..."
Nigel wandered off. It was always like that with the Hoplites. Something they did to their brains in the Academy he supposed. Phalanx were no better, except that their armour muffled the voices so they ended up sounding like the sea in a seashell. Better really.
He headed for the wall. Someone there must have seen something. "What's happening?"
The archer looked down from his high perch in the tower and scowled. "Absolutely nothing. It's quiet for as far as the eye can see. In fact, I might just take the opportunity to relieve myself in the woods -- can you cover for me?"
Nigel thought about it. He couldn't fire a bow worth a damn but at least while he was up there he should be safe from danger. "OK -- come on down." Nigel climbed up and looked round. The view was magnificent. He looked across the fields to where the old ruin stood, stark stones seared by the sun. The Yellow paint on the stones reassured him that no vandals from other empires had come by and marked their presence. All was well. He rubbed his sore foot absent-mindedly and leaned back on the small stool he was sitting on. He was just lighting another cigarette when he heard a grating sound some way in the distance behind him. Damn! Nigel struggled to his feet and shouted to his Stone Thrower crew. "Guys! Guys! Stop! Where are you taking her?"
"Enemy!" They had manic grins on their faces as they pushed the Stone Thrower ahead of them. This was trouble with a capital F!
"Nononono! There aren't any enemy around here. Wait. I'm coming!" Nigel shouted.
"Enemy!"
Nigel scrambled down the ladder and ran, knocking the returning Tower Guard onto his rear and shouting as he went. "Stop! Stop!"
"Enemy!" Grin grin push push.
"Stop! WAIT!! Wait until I'm there!!"
"Enemy!" Grin grin push push.
Nigel cursed the Siege Workshop management. They always put dummies on Stone Thrower crews. Not bright enough to use a club? Right -- stone thrower crew. Don't know which way round to hold a bow and arrow? Stone thrower crew. Too dumb to mine stone? Stone thrower crew. Back at the workshop they had no idea how dumb an idea this was. 50 kilosomethings of unrestrained unpleasantness under the control of creatures only slightly more intelligent than berry bushes.
They were way in the distance now. He could see them winding back the spoon and lifting the huge rock into it. What were they doing? Then Nigel saw him. A lone foreign villager on the other side of a clump of trees casting around for something to do.
"Guys -- leave him to the tower. The Tower'll get him!"
"Enemy!"
WHHOOOOSSSHHHH!
The stone flew through the air. The villager started, then began to run. The stone seemed to hang in the air and slowly etched out a parabola to where the villager no longer was. The ground shook with the impact. His boys were already loading another stone and retraining the mighty engine.
"LEAVE HIM!! LEAVE HIM BE!!!!" Nigel had seen the danger but his cries went unheard. The villager was running straight towards the yellow archer battalion standing quietly in the cover of the trees chatting to each other in lowered voices. The villager was looking behind him at the Stone Thrower as he ran and he hadn't seen the archers. He rounded the corner of the trees, skidded to a halt -- and screamed. The Tower Guard and the archers had all seen him now and were firing -- the villager had only seconds to live.
WHHHHOOOOOSSSSSHHHHH!
Too late. The stone was in the air. The villager didn't move, being dead. The archers were congratulating themselves on a major strike for the Yellow alliance, whooping with glee and high fives all round. Only the tower guard saw the danger and called a warning, but the archers ignored him, assuming he just wanted credit share for the kill.
The stone hit dead centre of the archer group. Three of them died instantly, four others viciously wounded. Nigel reached the Stone Thrower, caught his breath, gritted his teeth and turned to his now idle but still grinning stone thrower crew.
"WHAT -- I say, WHAT did you do that for?!!!!"
The grins faded. The men looked embarrassed and stood with their hands clasped in front of them, heads hung low, staring at the small patch of ground in front of them. Nigel tried again.
"Have you seen what you did? Did you see? Three archers dead and loads of work for the healer. What do you have to say for yourselves?"
One of the larger men looked up. "Missed," he said. Nigel took off his cap and threw it fiercely down on the ground in front of him.
"I know that!!! I know you missed!!! Why did you move without orders? Why did you attack that poor helpless villager? Why why why???"
The men looked at each other. One or two started to giggle while hiding their mouths with their hands like schoolchildren. Obviously oh so clever Nigel was really very stupid.
"What's the joke? What's the joke??" Nigel was beside himself now, screaming at them and jumping up and down on the spot.
The largest of the crew stood forward and made a passable attempt to stand to attention. He grinned at Nigel and said proudly, "Enemy!"
Suddenly Nigel's anger evaporated. It wasn't really their fault. They were keen and they knew how to throw rocks (though not, sadly, how to aim them). They were just doing their best and sometimes their passion for destroying the enemy led them to hurt the ones they loved -- or at least, the ones they weren't supposed to hurt at all. It was the price the Yellow alliance paid for the massive killing power that a stone thrower represented. One day soon their limp, dull, lifeless faces would be squelched into the mud by smart, fast, arrogant cavalry troops. Let them have their fun while they could. Nigel spoke
"OK -- well done boys. Three kills! That's very good going. Well done."
Their faces lifted, radiant with smiles. Thoughts plodded through their heads. Leader pleased. Leader like us. We good. One of them reached into his pocket and took out a small penknife. He began carving bows into the wooden frame of 'Nola. Three more bows to go next to the two axes and five swords. All daubed with yellow paint.
"War is hell," thought Nigel.
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