Upon your enlistment, you were told you'd only need to fight twice per month. This proved underambitious.
Tonight, again, is battle, and you are battle-weary. Your armor is scanty and your countenance is loathsome; you tire of the swords flicking at your neck. But you have a duty. There is nothing you can't take.
TAKE
One joke, until expiration, by Amelia Pinnolla
Release 1 / Serial number 161012 / Inform 7 build 6M62 (I6/v6.33 lib 6/12N)
War Chest
The battle will take place at sunset, and the sun's half gone. Behind as usual.
Your general, uncommonly generous, has given you full use of these barracks. The room is what passes for swank; the stone is fully exposed. Half the room is dedicated to their version of full equipage: a lure, a shield, potions, sprays. The other half is taken up by ersatz medical supplies: old bathtub, emergency bandages, swabs, anti-toxicity pills.
What's not provided: a sword. Or, for that matter, an adversary. You are to stay here until they provide you one. But the rest is yours for the taking.