The Tale Of Oafius

Once upon a time in a far off distant land, there lived a simple peasant lad by the name of Oafius. Oafius was nobody of title, was very poor, and had no living relatives. He made his living doing whatever work came his way.

His one joy in life was walking through the countryside and woods outside his village. On one particular day he ventured out a bit further into the woods than he usually did. He was busy thinking about his daily struggles when he suddenly tripped over something. Oafius hit the ground hard and after a few moments he picked himself up. Then he looked around to see what might have tripped him.

Then he saw it sticking out of the ground, a large chunk of masonry. Not an ordinary stone as one would expect to see in the woods, but a stone obviously worked on by human hands. Oafius, interest was aroused and wondered where the stone had come from.

“This had to have come from somewhere,” he muttered.

Drawn by an odd compulsion, he moved forward and pushed aside bush limbs to reveal the remnants of a path. In awe of his find, the peasant advanced along the path. It was not long before he came upon a ruined castle. Once a mighty fortress, the castle had fallen to enemies long, long, ago. Now the forest had possession of it and the flora proudly showed it. Ivy and moss grew along the remnants of towers. The once grand turrets were crumbling brick by brick. Tree trunks pushed their way between cracks in the stones as if to separate the parapets and ramparts.

Almost as if in a trance, Oafius moved up and into the ruins. Soon he was atop a platform that overlooked the entire ruins. The once a grand hall’s ceiling had disintegrated to rubble. Oafius’ eyes finally settled on a stone podium in the middle of all the ruin where an odd item lay.

It was some sort of stone carving of a bell shaped object with a loop at the top as if it was meant to be worn as a necklace. Oafius picked the object up and examined it closely. He shrugged as he grabbed a thin vine and ran it through the loop. He had never had any jewelry and smiled at the simple stone carving. A feeling of elation came over him and he felt like he could do anything or be anyone.

As Oafius was turning to leave, a gang of six bandits came upon the ruins. They were all armed to the teeth with knives, axes, and clubs. They were thin, wiry, weasel like men lead by an arrogant looking young man named Fouch with a sword at his side. He looked very prideful with a cloak about his shoulders as if he were someone famous.

“Soon. Soon our fortunes will turn lads,” he said encouragingly.

The group muttered their agreement. It was then that the bandits came upon Oafius who had just started to leave. Fouch’s eyes darted from Oafius to the talisman.

“Get him boys,” he cried.

“Oh please spare me! I am but a poor peasant,” Oafius begged.

Three of the bandits advanced. Unfortunately for them, the floor could not support the weight of three heavily armed men. The floor cracked and the rogues went tumbling down a long drop. Fouch scowled as he unsheathed his falchion and advanced slowly on Oafius.

“Prepare yourself for the next world,” he snarled as he brought his arm back to swing the deadly weapon.

Oafius had only his walking stick to defend himself with. Out of instinct, he shut his eyes as he lashed out blindly. The blow landed, smashed the bandit chief right in the temple, and felled him instantly. The remaining two bandits retreated at the sight of their leader defeated.

The humble Oafius couldn’t believe his eyes when he opened them. He was alive and in one piece! Moved by an odd compulsion, he walked to a stone ledge instead of continuing back the way he had come. What Oafius didn’t notice was that the ledge was slick from a recent rain. He unexpectedly slipped, tumbled off the ledge, and rolled down a hill.

As it turned out, this was actually a fortunate occurrence. If he had gone back the way he had come, he would have walked into a trap. The remaining two bandits had decided to hide behind rubble and wait for Oafius to appear and then stab him as he passed by.

When Oafius had come to a stop at the bottom of the hill, he groggily picked himself up, miraculously, with no severe injuries. The hill was too steep to climb back up, so Oafius set out through the thicket. Thorns tore at his clothing and branches scratched at his face, but he finally emerged from the wooded area and found himself on a road. Oafius had never ventured this far from home before. He had no idea where he was, but he knew that a road lead somewhere. After picking a direction, he set out for where he thought his home would be.

Oafius trekked down the road as night began to fall. He soon came to a long wooden bridge with a hooded figure standing on the bridge. The figure was an evil sorcerer of the order that delighted in tormenting non magic folk with riddle games and impossible to answer questions. If they could not succeed, he then called down horrid curses upon them.

Oafius attempted to pass by the sorcerer as he kept his gaze lowered and began to cross the bridge.

“Halt! None shall pass,” the sorcerer challenged.

Oafius looked at him reluctantly.

“None will pass! Except, for one that knows my true name!”

The sorcerer delighted in his game for none but magical beings had the means to learn the true names of people and things. A simple peasant had no chance.

“What is my name? Answer me quickly or I shall smite you down!”  

Oafius’s knees trembled and he stammered out the first name that came to his head, “Barlarza.”

Barlarza couldn’t believe it. Enraged at the mere mortal, he called upon his dark powers. However, he was so enraged that he lost the means to channel and control that power. So instead of blasting Oafius, the sorcerer accidentally incinerated himself. With a bright flash of light the conjurer was gone and all that remained was a pile of ash.

Once again thankful for escaping death, Oafius crossed the bridge. He wanted nothing more than to find his hovel, curl up in a corner, and go to sleep. He had had quite enough of adventure already.

As he trudged on, he noticed that several people passed by him. He thought it was odd for so many people to be travelling before morning. A few of the people that passed him by even looked at him or said something.

When Oafius finally made it into the village, the sun had risen. So many of the village buildings appeared to be smashed up or in a state of severe disrepair like a storm had passed through.  

Oafius found he was in the village square looking at a most perplexing sight. Piled in the center was all manner of valuables, food, furniture, coins, and jewelry. It suddenly occurred to him that he probably shouldn’t have continued forward when he saw so many others travelling in the opposite way. Something bad must have happened while he was gone.

Oafius once again felt fear grip him. He wanted to leave immediately. Suddenly, he spied something among the piles of loot. It was a beautiful crossbow that was made from a dark wood and fitted with a new string. It was also cocked with a bolt primed. Moved by a desire he’d never felt before, Oafius started forward and grabbed the weapon. When Oafius had grabbed the weapon he heard the trump of heavy footsteps approaching and a hill troll moved into view. The troll was the one that had raided the village and many others singlehandedly.

Upon seeing a lone peasant seemingly challenge him, the troll roared and brandished his club menacingly. Oafius only gasped in response. In doing so, his hand hit the trigger and fired the bow. The bolt whistled as it plowed through the air and struck the troll right in the throat. The troll gasped and clutched its throat as it dumbly tried to fight on. It managed to stagger a few feet toward Oafius before tumbling over. There was a titanic crash as the troll impacted the ground. Oafius had had too much excitement and passed out while still gripping the crossbow. There Oafius lay unconscious for several hours.

Soon the king rode into town accompanied by his knights, men-at-arms, and archers. The king had received reports of a marauding troll and had decided to do something about it. The men were quite surprised to find the troll already dead and a lone man who had apparently killed it with one shot.

They gazed at Oafius with wonder. His clothes were still tattered from being in the woods and he held the crossbow still in his hands.

“It must have been a fine fight,” one of the knights said.

“Aye,” the king agreed. “Though this man is obviously not of noble birth, he has a stout heart. We shall take him with us to the castle.”

Oafius didn’t wake up until he was in the castle.

“Where am I,” he stammered upon waking up.

There was a man by his bedside, a minstrel to the king.

“You are in the royal castle and a guest of the king. We honor heroes and he sent me to record the tale of your deed of slaying the troll,” he explained.

Oafius declared that he was no hero and only killed the troll by accident. The minstrel decided he was just being modest and had no flair for showbiz.

“Fret not sir! I will tell of your noble deeds with flourish at the night’s banquet,” the minstrel assured him.

“Banquet,” Oafius asked.

“Yes, in your honor,” the minstrel replied.

Soon Oafius found himself in the grand hall of the castle dressed in fine clothing like he had never worn before, eating rich foods, and drinking wine. The minstrel told his tale with a few added details to make the event more exciting. Soon even Oafius found himself believing the minstrel’s tale over his own. The king personally praised him for his courage and introduced him to his lovely daughter. The princess, upon meeting him, instantly looked at the strange amulet that he had picked up from the ruins in the forest.

All was well and merry until an arrogant knight, who hated seeing a commoner being handed so much praise, stood up.

“Ha! If he’s such a great hero than I challenge him to a joust!”

“Oh, no I’m afraid I don’t know how to joust. Much less ride a horse,” Oafius replied.

“Then are you a coward,” the knight challenged.

“No!” Oafius spat back.

“Then you will face me tomorrow. If you’re really a big hero, than you have naught to worry about.”

His challenge complete, the knight left the hall to prepare.

“A challenge accepted cannot be withdrawn,” The king decreed. “Will anyone spare this man a horse, lance, and armor?”

“I shall,” another of the King’s knights said and stood up.

“So be it. The joust begins tomorrow at dawn.”

Oafius wanted nothing more than to sneak out of the castle, but the knight who had volunteered his mount and equipment collared him.

“I know you know nothing of jousting so I shall teach you what I can before tomorrow.”

And so Oafius spent the night with the knight learning how to sit in a saddle and hold a lance. The knight who taught him, Sir Revere, didn’t think he had a chance to win, but he believed in the code of chivalry. When he was satisfied Oafius could at least hold a lance and stay in the saddle he finally released him for the night.

Oafius still planned to sneak out, but he was so tired he thought he’d just lay down for a bit. He fell asleep instantly. All too soon a hand was pounding on his door to summon him to the joust.

The tournament field was bustling with activity. Spectators lined benches around the field eager to see the joust. Oafius had never worn armor before and it took the squires a few minutes to get him saddled on his borrowed mount. Oafius had a heavy heart as a squire led his horse out into the field. Hopefully he wouldn’t die. It was going to be humiliating when he lost, but being just a peasant he didn’t have a lot of pride to wound.

The squire had to lead the horse onto the field. Like most horses, Oafius’ knew it had an inexperienced rider and took advantage of it by doing what it wanted to do.

“Let the joust begin,” the king ordered as the crowd cheered.

Oafius’s opponent grinned before closing his visor and spurring his mount forward. Oafius closed his visor and then was blind. He couldn’t see anything with his helmet down. He tried spurring his horse as he lowered the lance. The horse was busy ignoring him when a snake suddenly slithered under it. The horse then charged forward as terror gave it a boost of speed. Oafius screamed and then his arm felt like it was jarred loose.

The crowd watched as Oafius scored a direct hit to the knights breastplate. The force was so great that the experienced knight was unhorsed and thrown to the ground. He didn’t move. The blow having knocked him silly, the world was still spinning for the brash knight.

The crowd went wild. Oafius had just defeated a champion jouster with one blow.

“Did you hear how he yelled as he charged,” one of the spectators commented.

“Aye, it was a fearsome battle-cry to curl the blood,” another agreed.  

Oafius could hardly believe it. He had just defeated a champion. The king called him up to his seat to congratulate him personally. “Well done! I haven’t seen a joust like that in years.”

Oafius bowed his head and muttered his thanks. The king marveled at the man’s humility no boasting or swagger to him.

“Take a knee,” he commanded like a father.

Oafius dropped to one knee.

The king spoke for all to hear him, “Having demonstrated great valor, humility, and feat of arms; I hereby knight this man Oafius.” The king drew his sword and tapped him on the left shoulder. “Do you swear to guard this realm and pledge loyalty to its ruler?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

The king tapped him on the right shoulder. “Then by the power vested in me, I hereby dub you, Sir Oafius; knight of the realm.” The king tapped him on the head. “Rise a knight.”

After the newly knighted Sir Oafius had risen the princess chose to speak to him. Oafius had never met a more beautiful woman, but she seemed more interested in his pendant than anything else. She asked him where he got it and when he replied, “A ruined castle,” she only frowned.

At that moment a messenger arrived with ill news. The neighboring kingdom had declared war on them and had sent an army out. The king sent out the cry for all to stand and fight. He quickly rallied his armies to him. Now that Oafius was a knight and had shown such amazing feats of courage the king made him a captain in his army.

Sir Oafius didn’t know the first thing about leading men into battle. Luckily, they all seemed to know what to do on their own. He would have liked to have deserted, but there just never seemed to be a good time to slip off. Besides he had sworn an oath of loyalty and there was no backing out of that. After several days on the march they found the enemy.

It was almost dusk when the scouts reported seeing the enemy encampment. It was then decided that they too would set up camp opposite the enemies. When all the tents were pitched and sentries placed, Oafius sat through a long discussion between the king and his officers. None of the things discussed were pleasant. They would attack in the morning and they would probably have a lot of casualties. The enemy outnumbered them by a good margin.

When Oafius went to bed he did nothing but lay awake. He didn’t want to die in the morning, but that seemed to be his fate. After long hours of tossing and turning Oafius finally could take no more. He sprang from his palette, got dressed, and then stormed out of his tent to his horse as light was just beginning to touch the sky.

Several of the soldiers were milling about the camp when they spotted him.

“Look! Sir Oafius is eager for battle! We shall follow his example and prepare ourselves!”

Soon the entire camp was roused and ready for battle. Across from the camp the enemy army was just starting to stir. Unfortunately they were so confident in an easy victory that they had decided to celebrate early with some drinks. They moved sluggishly about their tasks.

Not knowing what had come over himself, Oafius unsheathed his sword and charged forward and all the other men followed suit. The enemy staggered out to meet them, but they were too disoriented and surprised to put together a decent fight. Most decided to just run and the battle was over in a matter of minutes. They were victorious and the enemy lay dead, captured, or scattered throughout the land. Never again would they threaten the kingdom.

Oafius emerged from the battle victorious and unscathed. As a reward he was granted the title of Duke. Oafius had gone from peasant to knight to duke in three days. As years went by Oafius never seemed to run out of good fortune. He married the princess and lived to a ripe old age succeeded by a son whom he passed his medallion on to.
Neither man knew of its true value, but the princess did. As an avid reader she had read in an obscure tome of a medallion carved of stone long thought lost which would grant good fortune to the wearer. She never shared this knowledge for she had also read that those who sought to use its powers for greed would only be met with ill fortune. Only a humble soul could use its powers and if he should learn of its true powers it would cease to grant the powers over luck.