(DING DING DING)

"mmhm.. baebiii nyoot me.. taaakkk"

(DING DING DING DING)

"mmmhm.. whaai soooo noisy?"

(DING DING DING DING DING)

"huuuh.. *yawns* wait...."

(DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING)

"WHAT THE FUCK"

There I was, forced out of my favourite mistress that's ever so gently locking me into her embrace, the most comfort I've ever felt in my life comes from her... my bed. That cursed thing that's only capable of seperating us will only be the village alarm, which is definitely more annoying than flocks of children if I ever fathered any.

The alarm would never ring under any circumstances, except for moments when the village guards are unable to venture out from their posts on the village walls to crush the intruders. If said threat is assumed dangerous to harming the inhabitants of this village, the alarm will be sounded to evacuate the villagers into the sole warehouse of the village. Which is ironically the sturdiest structure in the entire village, must feel like shit if those rabbles knew that bulks of crops and minerals are given a higher worth than the residents themselves.

Our community being at least slightly ethical, would arrange women, children and the elderly to stay within the warehouse to avert the oncoming danger while men are handed "weapons", sticks and baskets of stones to safeguard the assets in the warehouse by forming a perimeter right outside. While conscripted millita of the village, composed of not-fucking-wobblyhanded men and women to help quell the looming danger under the lead of the village guards. They are slightly armed with bows, arrows, and some pointy sticks that resemble crudely made spears. Under such conditions, it basically means any adults who aren't mentally challenged, obese, sensory deprived and paraplegic are conscripted into the village millita.

The men of the millita are mainly taught combat basics in using spears, with forming spearwalls and surrounding enemies the core of their teachings. While the few conscripted women, which are usually young and perceptive given lessons of basic marksmanship and scouting. They act as archers to engage at long range, while some function as spotters with lanterns held up high, illuminating the "battlegrounds", keep eyes up for potential dangers to minimize casualties.

(DING DING DING DING)

"Come on people move quickly! To the warehouse!" (guard)

Once the alarms are sounded, guards will be mobillized quickly to evacuate the villagers, form the echelon with the millita and head out to quell the threat. It's a preference to head out and strike the enemy instead of defending passively, damaged property will cause more burden to the village's economical state. I always felt that it's a tad bit unsettling how this asshole village elder would prefer sending people to their deaths than to have some of the crudely built property damaged by the intruders.

But it can't be helped, he just made it past his 60th winter a dozen or few moons before. Being considered elderly, this detestable piece of old shit narrowly escaped the requirements for conscription. His recent arrogant fucking attitude and overworking the farmers for more produce definitely makes me want to force him into the vanguard and watch him flail his spear futilely as some warthogs shove their tusks up his orifices. I bet he will soil himself and scream in anguish and have his jaws ripped from ear to ear so his ugly fucking half grin can finally take a better shape, then his asscheeks will get chewed off and we get to watch the warthogs nibbling on his crusty old festering...

Ahem, let's forget about that.

It's a shame that I just took a bath, shaved and tidied myself delicately enough to display my eloquent beauty. Although it will daze all the fair maidens around, I chose to put on my freshly washed cotton robes which bears a flowery scent just so that I could be reunited with my favourite mistress to spend a peaceful night after being stuck in hell since ages ago. Sadly, I'm forced to part with my bed to prevent people from being murdered or skewered or eaten by some wicked creation of God.

"ugh.. damn it"

With a groan, I quickly took of my pristine robes, which becomes immediately crumpled as I tossed it aside onto the bed. I quickly put my chestplate onto my bare chest as I have no time to spare in wearing clothes. I put on my leather trousers and then my iron greaves. Holding all my battle gear together, I secure my scabbard behind my back, in which contains a longsword which is my pride and blessing to keep myself alive in a world of despair and uncertainty.

Before leaving my home, which is a rugged hut with wood beams as its walls and tightly bound straw chaffs fastened around the celling as my roof, I take a glance into the water basin beside my bed which I've washed my face with just moments ago, just to strengthen my resolve to part with my beloved so I could prevent a potential genocide of unarmed civillians and an old rotting piece of crafty shit.

A cleanly shaven man in his 20s looks back at me, disturbed waters rippling around the basin just emphasizes the importance of the situation ahead of me. Two pieces of metal curved slightly at ends covered both my front and back. Secured by pieces of leather rivetted in tiny iron nails, end to end from the plates to the rest of my cuirass. Two rugged shoulderguards crowned on top of my arms, covered by leather sleeves. the shoulderguards looks scratched in respective places, but never bent or punctured, no shoddy craftsmanship on these iron plates had ever occured indeed. a leather cloth right under the cuirass flowed from waist down into a buckle of my leather belt. Which conviniently ties both upper and lower portions of my armour into my centre of balance, preventing it from offsetting from any potential explosive force.

Leather trousers made from tough bison skin covered my entire lower body, with pieces of metal accenting its surface except from the grooves, my front knees and forelegs are effectively protected from lethal strikes that could otherwise incapacitate me and cripple me forever. My entire feet is wrapped around a thin leather sole then covered by thin iron cuffs on top and bottom by minature leather straps and some fancy stitching. As the usually invading monsters have heights starting from waist down, it's ideal to wear iron greaves to kick those beasts when arms are unavailable for various reasons.

Especially those invading warthogs and goblins. Those crazily aggresive boars likes peforating our legs especially, a deadly heel kick could break their poise, and even crack their tusks when the hit connected head first, lowering their offensive capabilities. While goblins have good constitution, but weak knees. One decisive kick can disable them and have them fall flat on the ground. Without them displaying tenacity when standing with a shield and flurrying stabs from pointy sticks, them exposing their backs or stomachs with their weak agility will result in certain defeat.

A glimpse of myself for a second seeming seems to last a lifetime, being impressed by myself, I quickly head out to greet the hell that is unfolding in front of me.

After gaining composure, I walked out of my hut.

All that entered my visage is a stream of flowing lights converging into the centre of our village, cause by villagers moving frantically and seeking illumination under the cover of that annoying fucking bell, I swear to God that stuff hurts my hearing.

I took a deep breath, my feet walking towards to the warehouse to confirm the situation, being the melancholic intelligent young man that I am, I muttered:

"Well well well, what a great day to be alive"

This is my first ever novel, please give me your honest opinions on how to improve. English is not my mother tongue, would be glad if anyone could point me to my mistakes. Don't hesitate to say anything, even constructive critisism is appreciated. I'll definitely spend time to read each and every single one of it.

Thanks to everyone for potentially supporting this, and to everyone that spends your time to read it.