A Nude Super-Soldier in the Night-Time

Mighty Monday’s greetings, mortals! Today I bring ye a tale of a terrifying encounter—with a nude super-soldier, in the night-time…

LEGAL NOTE: This is a true story of adventure, & any resemblance to mortal persons at a recent renaissance faire is purely a result of the echoes of reality across time & space.

I spend fewer days on the roads & byways than I did in younger æons—'twas a kinder place to travel, then—but a few times yearly, I still thrust myself into the hospitality of the world. On a recent sojourn, while rooming in the spacious barn of a wary villein, I found myself tasked with guard duty. I prefer to earn my keep with a spell, or story, or song, but the ale flowed freely, & warding the gentle grounds seemed the least I could do.

I would come to regret not snoozing with the sows, that night.

The farmer retired to bed after Compline—we shared a bit of cheddar, barley three ways—& I dressed for battle. Not that I foresaw the havoc to come, but rather it hardly befits a guard to wear slippers & a night-shirt! I yawned, thinking fondly of the ale, & strode out into the crisp night air. Frogs croaked gently, robins discussed their days, & a pleasant mist arose above the thriving grass. I circled the barn, startling a poor mouser.

“Two of us on guard duty tonight, eh?,” I chuckled. The cat seemed unamused.

As it slunk away, I headed for the cowshed—ho! A skeleton? On this sleepy farm? I gripped my wand tightly, & bent low to examine the poor fellow. Ah—warm? Warm bones? With bite-marks all over! These were no ancient remains, no long-dead king or disliked ancestor. Someone, or something, slew & supped on flesh this evening!

I muttered the words to Detect Murderer, & my wand glowed a sickly pink. The killer lurked about yet!

“Dear sir,” said I, “or phantom, or however ye like that I should call, please, show thyself, & let us talk withal.” I hoped my rhyming would be so out of place that the killer could not help but reply. & indeed, on the wind, I heard—

“Madmartigan!”

I racked my immortal brain. Is that a spell?, I wondered, A command, in some dead tongue? I had little time to ponder, for it seemed to come again from behind me—

“Come on, Madmartigan. Let's get Elora Dannan out of here.”

I felt my calf rip open, three hot streaks of pain, as some horrid golden figure shimmered past me. I threw up a quick shield, knit my skin with a few clever phrases (the American Medical Association will not let me reproduce them here), & looked about in an absolute panic. One lousy night in a lousy barn, & for this I would fight for my flesh?

The golden thing rushed at me again, slamming its fists against my bubble-shield, & ‘twas then I noticed its hostile nudity. Sparkling in the misty Moonlight, the creature’s manlike form bristled with anger & nakedness. Its lips, still spouting strange nonsense, dripped with blood & flecks of human hamburger.

I prayed to dead gods I had once known, & perhaps they heard, for at that moment, a dark cloud lazily drifted across the Moon, & the golden menace fell over with a thud. Dead?—nay, asleep! Perhaps Mahina’s silvery rays animated its form, but I refused to stick around to find out. I stormed back to the farmhouse, & before I could knock with fury, the porch door swung open.

“Is Ray-Ray out there?,” asked the farmer, with no trace of fear nor alarm.

“There is a golden monster who ate someone,” I said, dryly, “Is that Ray-Ray?" I hoped my sarcasm would not be lost on this paganus.

“Yes!”

“Ah…well. He slumbers, near yon cowshed. He slashed open my leg &, again, ate someone.”

“He does that every night. He’s an elite super-soldier, you know.”

“Every single night? Eating people & screaming nonsense? How could an elite soldier have the time to do all that, how could an elite soldier behave that way?”

The farmer stared at me for a long minute. “Nonsense? No, he’s quoting the 1988 fantasy adventure film, Willow.”

“What?”

The farmer then produced a small portable DVD player, & showed me all 126 minutes of the 1988 fantasy adventure film, Willow, at an incredibly loud volume. I then attempted to apprehend him, for housing a murderer; we dueled at the sleeping body of Ray-Ray, & I consigned the farmer to the flames of Hell. Ray-Ray slept through the entire affair, still stark-naked.

In the morning, I took a keg of ale with me for the road, mounted a sow, & wobbled on home. I resolved to never travel again…but in a few months, I know, the wanderlust shall seize me once more. And next time, I shall be wary of hearing those dreadful words: “Madmartigan, Madmartigan…”

Chilling, eh? Imagine actually encountering such a fiend…such are the delights of the road! Summersbane, Cutie Berry, & I have all nearly recovered from our recent travels, & we will of course set out upon the wild roads again come Fall. In the meantime, Season Six of our stream is in full swing! I shall send more details about this week’s exciting episode on Wednesday.

In the meantime, thank ye for reading, thank ye to all who can & do spare $5 monthly to support our works here, & thank ye to all the beautiful souls we encountered on our travels! Even in this dark era, most strangers we find are kind, & fully-clad. Be safe, mortals, be well, & remember to only watch the 1988 fantasy adventure film Willow at a polite volume.

Cheers,
Amoenus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Guard Under Duress