The world must know of the unlikely hero named Henry Cog. His tale is one filled with death, betrayal, and sorrow. Supplies of food and ammunition were running low when the fishpeople began to rise from the sea. News reached the shore that 15 fish raiders were on the beach and headed towards the camp. The military was underfunded and understaffed, consisting of 4 untrained soldiers and a handful of rusty pistols. Under the cover of night, a single fishy assassin chased down the cowardly militia commander and clubbed him to death as he tried to flee. The citizens and ran about in panic. Henry Cog was asleep when the attack began. The screams awoke him and he desperately searched for a weapon. Taking up the pistol of his fallen commander, he took cover in a nearby farmhouse and began to fight back. While the raiders were busy pillaging, his expert marksmanship single-handedly killed twelve of the beasts. Unfortunately, his pistol seemed to be out of ammunition. The stores of ammunition were outside where the remaining raiders were waiting. He would have to venture out into the open and find another weapon to save the village. Brave Henry Cog noticed a loaded pistol near a pair of unarmed raider busy trampling cabbage fields. Just as his fingers touched the weapon, they noticed him and charged. He took down the first monster, but the second reached him before he could fire again. It clawed him as he pulled the trigger, covering him in a mist of fishy gore. The last fishman heard the sounds of fighting and came to help his comrades. Unfortunately, that was the last of the ammunition. The raider ran towards him holding a vicious cleaver. The cowardly townsfolk had descended into madness and would be no help. Henry had no choice but to run. Henry kept running until he was far away from the horrors of the village. He knew the fishman chasing him would tire out long before he did. When he reached the beaches, he turned to fight. He struck the creature in the skull with the butt of his pistol. In a daze, it clumsily swung it's wicked knife, scratching his arm. He struck it again, and again, until it fell lifeless to the ground. He turned his back on the horror and returned to the village. Although victorious, the battle had taken it's toll on his sanity. He would spend the rest of his days hauling wood in the gibbering madness of the cannibal village, driven insane by his trials. None but you, dear reader, will ever appreciate his heroic sacrifice in the face of terror.
