Merry Men: A stranger in our midst
So I was bored at work with nothing to do so I went to Seventh Sanctum and started looking at the random thingy generators. Anyways I got one that said "the angsty and brooding teen who leads a band of merry men" so I wrote this up. I know he's not really a teen, but it's my story so I changed it. Sue me. I might write more on it later but then I might not. We'll see. I'm rereading this and have decided that I will probably come along later and do some MAJOR revisions....some of it sounds really stupid but I don't want to scrap the whole story.
Jerome sighed. The men outside were enjoying their ale and laughing raucously at something, while Simon played some popular song on his harmonica. They all sounded so happy that Jerome wondered if they really knew what they were up against.
For ten years Jerome had traveled with the Assembly of Discontent, often called simply the Assembly, and he had never understood how they managed to be so high spirited. Fifteen years before a man named Roger Pickman had taken over the world and named himself emperor. Thanks to his vast army and nearly unlimited wealth there had been no one to oppose him. No one, that is, except for his brother and former partner, Harry Pickman.
Once Harry saw what Roger was doing, he turned his back on his brother and started up the Assembly in order to resist his brother. With little actions like crippling some vehicles and swiping a few trucks of rations the Assembly was able to be a thorn in Roger’s side. At least once a week the Emperor sent a squadron to squash the tiny rebellion, but they were always thwarted.
The group was a source of hope for the world, showing them that not all resistance was futile. Although every single other rebellion attempt was terminated within days of its formation, the Assembly kept on going. Jerome had been drawn, at the tender age of thirteen, to the group. He’d had no family, no friends, and no hope of the future, so he figured that there were far worse things he could do than throw his lot in with the group of outlaws who spat in the Empire’s figurative eye on a daily basis.
Five years after he joined, however, tragedy struck. Harry, the charming, fearless leader, vanished. Leaderless and more than a little dumbstruck, the Assembly floundered and was nearly disbanded until Jerome stood up and berated the men for losing hope so quickly. They rebounded and decided that the logical thing to do would be to elect a new leader. To his utmost horror and dismay, they chose Jerome to be their new leader because he had shown such tenacity and fearlessness at the loss of Harry.
Jerome reluctantly accepted the position and had led the men for five years without losing a single skirmish. His men had stood firmly behind him every step of the way and had supported their young leader in all of his decisions-even the ones that he himself had trouble accepting. He mourned every loss to his troup and every time one of his died he swore to try to protect the rest of them with all of his being.
Now it seemed things were getting worse and worse. The Emperor had enlarged his army by forcing a draft. 25% of all capable men between the ages of sixteen and forty-five were required to serve in his Majesty’s army. The strange thing about this, Jerome noticed, was that no matter how much training the soldiers went through or how many there were, his group always won. Admittedly, sometimes he lost a few men, but they always came out on top.
“‘Ey, Jer!” Nick, his second in command shouted, “Come on out ‘ere and warm yourself up by our fire! No need to brood tonight lad!”
Jerome reluctantly picked himself up from his mat and walked out of his tent. He surveyed the men before him, counting almost unconsciously. Then his brow wrinkled and his gaze became more discerning as he peered at the faces of the men around the fire. Usually he was worried that the number would be fewer than normal, but he could have swore that he counted 28, and not the usual 27.
There he was. “You there,” he called sternly, eyes nailed on a teenaged boy at the edge of the light, “Identify yourself.”
The boy jumped and looked around, as if to say “Who, me?” and then took a deep breath before squeaking out, “Ah, I was just, um, cold and, um, I saw ya’ll’s fire here and heard the music and, um, I wanted to see what the fuss was all about.”
“That is not the information I requested,” Jerome stated coldly.
“Oh, haha, right,” he stammered, “You want my name?” Jerome just raised his eyebrow in contempt. “Wi-er, Will, that’s my name.”
“Well ‘Wi er Will' do you have sufficient information about my camp to continue on your way or do I need to have you removed from my fire?”
“C’mon Jer,” Nick cajoled, “ ‘Ee’s just a wee lad lookin’ for some company, let’em stick around.”
“Y-Ya’ll are the Assembly, right?” Will asked cautiously.
“If we were,” Jerome said, “What would you do with that information?”
“I’d ask if I could join ya’ll. Ain’t got nowhere else to go…” he faded out.
“Is that your only set of clothing?” Jerome asked with less sting and Will looked down and nodded ashamedly. “Well,” he said, “We’ll just have to fix that. Marcus!”
A young man’s head jerked up attentively. “Yessir?”
“Get this man some clothes, a cot, and a tent-mate STAT.”
"Right away sir!" Marcus answered and began to walk off, then looked at Will, "You coming?"
Will smiled shyly and trailed after the brown haired man.
Jerome sighed. The men outside were enjoying their ale and laughing raucously at something, while Simon played some popular song on his harmonica. They all sounded so happy that Jerome wondered if they really knew what they were up against.
For ten years Jerome had traveled with the Assembly of Discontent, often called simply the Assembly, and he had never understood how they managed to be so high spirited. Fifteen years before a man named Roger Pickman had taken over the world and named himself emperor. Thanks to his vast army and nearly unlimited wealth there had been no one to oppose him. No one, that is, except for his brother and former partner, Harry Pickman.
Once Harry saw what Roger was doing, he turned his back on his brother and started up the Assembly in order to resist his brother. With little actions like crippling some vehicles and swiping a few trucks of rations the Assembly was able to be a thorn in Roger’s side. At least once a week the Emperor sent a squadron to squash the tiny rebellion, but they were always thwarted.
The group was a source of hope for the world, showing them that not all resistance was futile. Although every single other rebellion attempt was terminated within days of its formation, the Assembly kept on going. Jerome had been drawn, at the tender age of thirteen, to the group. He’d had no family, no friends, and no hope of the future, so he figured that there were far worse things he could do than throw his lot in with the group of outlaws who spat in the Empire’s figurative eye on a daily basis.
Five years after he joined, however, tragedy struck. Harry, the charming, fearless leader, vanished. Leaderless and more than a little dumbstruck, the Assembly floundered and was nearly disbanded until Jerome stood up and berated the men for losing hope so quickly. They rebounded and decided that the logical thing to do would be to elect a new leader. To his utmost horror and dismay, they chose Jerome to be their new leader because he had shown such tenacity and fearlessness at the loss of Harry.
Jerome reluctantly accepted the position and had led the men for five years without losing a single skirmish. His men had stood firmly behind him every step of the way and had supported their young leader in all of his decisions-even the ones that he himself had trouble accepting. He mourned every loss to his troup and every time one of his died he swore to try to protect the rest of them with all of his being.
Now it seemed things were getting worse and worse. The Emperor had enlarged his army by forcing a draft. 25% of all capable men between the ages of sixteen and forty-five were required to serve in his Majesty’s army. The strange thing about this, Jerome noticed, was that no matter how much training the soldiers went through or how many there were, his group always won. Admittedly, sometimes he lost a few men, but they always came out on top.
“‘Ey, Jer!” Nick, his second in command shouted, “Come on out ‘ere and warm yourself up by our fire! No need to brood tonight lad!”
Jerome reluctantly picked himself up from his mat and walked out of his tent. He surveyed the men before him, counting almost unconsciously. Then his brow wrinkled and his gaze became more discerning as he peered at the faces of the men around the fire. Usually he was worried that the number would be fewer than normal, but he could have swore that he counted 28, and not the usual 27.
There he was. “You there,” he called sternly, eyes nailed on a teenaged boy at the edge of the light, “Identify yourself.”
The boy jumped and looked around, as if to say “Who, me?” and then took a deep breath before squeaking out, “Ah, I was just, um, cold and, um, I saw ya’ll’s fire here and heard the music and, um, I wanted to see what the fuss was all about.”
“That is not the information I requested,” Jerome stated coldly.
“Oh, haha, right,” he stammered, “You want my name?” Jerome just raised his eyebrow in contempt. “Wi-er, Will, that’s my name.”
“Well ‘Wi er Will' do you have sufficient information about my camp to continue on your way or do I need to have you removed from my fire?”
“C’mon Jer,” Nick cajoled, “ ‘Ee’s just a wee lad lookin’ for some company, let’em stick around.”
“Y-Ya’ll are the Assembly, right?” Will asked cautiously.
“If we were,” Jerome said, “What would you do with that information?”
“I’d ask if I could join ya’ll. Ain’t got nowhere else to go…” he faded out.
“Is that your only set of clothing?” Jerome asked with less sting and Will looked down and nodded ashamedly. “Well,” he said, “We’ll just have to fix that. Marcus!”
A young man’s head jerked up attentively. “Yessir?”
“Get this man some clothes, a cot, and a tent-mate STAT.”
"Right away sir!" Marcus answered and began to walk off, then looked at Will, "You coming?"
Will smiled shyly and trailed after the brown haired man.