Thursday, January 29, 2015

The Wid: A Type in the making

Since about 1994, the term "The Wid" has recurred in my fantasy works, role-playing and fiction. This wasn't really meant to be a Type (class) but a verbal piece of atmosphere that deepened the milieu a bit.

It started in a setting called Artha, which, despite it's Hindi origins, kind of became Russia, the Ukraine, Romania, and various places along the Danube. The Wid were the non-official sages, magi, and martial artists that battled to save the soul of their land from the Fatha Rugga (or the "Dark Monks"). They enabled Mikhail, the Usurper, to take over the city of Marshoon to begin the end of the Ugorath dynasty. The word "dynasty" was a ruse, Ugoran was 900 years old, and faked his death many time over the last 400 years to rule Vast Arth.

I haven't thought much about the Wid and the Fatha Rugga for a few years now. Strangely the term for a recognized wizard from this campaign, "Weth," still sticks around. My players might remember Mazweth, the Still, Pot 'Weth" Belly, or Weth Frahm. The Wid, popped up two nights ago in a dream.

The dream was mix of Vietnam War documentary and gun safety PSA, with some beautiful scenery, just outside of the Hills of Hap and my Grandparents' house on the way to Ilek Vad (my vacation spot). After the M113-A9s (double 25 Mike-Mike guns on the top) cleared out, and all the Deuce-&-1/2 -riding Legs stopped carelessly shooting at the non-combatants, and me--Luckily I was wearing a kevlar not a steel-pot and more worried about the MLRS-delivered landmines than anything, but those poor male non-combatants were taking a beating.

After the mechanized infantry was clear of the area, I was setting up an LP/OP and marking TRPs for the support coming inevitably through. I didn't feel bad not following the fight, because I had been ahead of the column for ten days already. I noticed a lot of the non-combatants were popping back up, thank Godsheadness that the heavy dudes were such bad marksmen. Then the non-combatants started fighting among themselves. Frankly, I suddenly didn't know who to trust.

One dude caught my interest. He was up against a much bigger dude. He would dive into the ground and emerge a few, not more than five, yards away. The radio to my left, told me to displace and move to the top of "Hill 409 Vatcher." It was to my right and a few hundred meters from my shoulder blade (northwest). I turned to start the hike and start on an over-watch set-up. I heard steps behind me.

A gray faced, long-white haired dude was walking up behind me. I had my Colk .45 so wasn't worried. He most likely was a paid local who was told to accompany me. How else would he know my position? Still I didn't know who exactly to trust. These dudes can travel through the ground.

I woke up amused. I moved my hands to check the feed on a long-gone Mark 19.


  1. Shouldn't monks be brotha rugga?

    1. I think in Arthan, based off of Persian, the words for Brother is "fatthaw" and the word for father was "Oran." I didn't decide the language, I developed the "Wid" and the "Weth."