The Lightning Dance

[Neil Tathers]

One Month Ago, the top of the mountain

They are mean, and they are nasty.  A strange combination of lizard and bird, shargles ruled the mountain top with their tough hides and strong beaks.  Many a hunter brave these tops in search of their hides to proudly display their kills.

The young shargle chirped excitedly as it smelled new prey.  Pouncing on it’s reptile legs, the shargle brought the goat.  As it’s beak went for the killing blow, a poison dart shot from the brush got the shargle first.  The startled shargle flew backwards off the goat, which ran from the scene, and shook it’s head as the poison began to take effect.  The hunter stepped out from the brush, revealing Neil Tathers, a native who was entering his third decade of life.  His brown hair bleached blonde by the sun was turning a dusty grey at his temples.  His clothing was crisp and clean, an amaglam of traditional native wear, and of some outsider clothes as well, like the wide brim hat he wore to keep the sun out of his eyes.  A recent experience left Neil with unique physical traits, like his ash white skin, but even that was darkening in the sun once more.  Neil was a beloved individual who preached peace and order wherever he went.  Taking out his kukri he stepped forward to finish the shargle.  The shargle flared it’s beak, and jumped into the air at Neil.  Dodging swiftly to the side, Neil managed to score a glancing blow off the side of the shargle.  The shargle landed awkwardly, the blood from his wound splattering on Neil’s arm.  He smudged the blood under his eyes, and went in for the final blow.

But he didn’t get to make it.

A machete from nowhere unerringly and swiftly chopped off the shargle’s head.  Neil looked at the machete, a crude thing, obviously not taken care of like his beloved weapons.

“You should take better care of your weapons Grunk,” said Neil, not putting away his weapons, or losing the fighting stance. 

Grunk the Pale was the young leader of a group of cannibals called the Rakmogaki Collective.  He wasn’t the biggest cannibal or the shortest either, he wasn’t the strongest, or the weakest.  Grunk was in the middle, but his attribute laid in his cunning and guile.  Grunk’s claim to fame was uniting the mainly chaotic cannibals in a quest to overtake the island with their unique brand of chaos.  He was a feared and fearsome combatant.

“How did you know it was me, Peaceful One?” said Grunk, stepping out to grab his machete.  He licked the blood on the side of the blade awaiting for the answer.

Neil merely glanced behind him, “The tiger.  And old thing, bore with many scars, tends to follow you.  I smelled it awhile back.”

Sure enough the Tiger in question was behind Neil, lounging in the sun.  The tiger did bear many scars from unknown battles, but the most disturbing one was the missing eye.  It’s socket, closed with scar tissue, haunted many people’s nightmares.  When Grunk assumed leadership of the Collective, the tiger had started following him.  They have been inseparable since.

“Yes,” grinned Grunk, “That cat is a huge bother.”

“He’s also not simply a tiger,” said Neil.

“Oh, really?”

“My recent experience has granted me with various lingering effects,” responded Neil, “Sun has been a bother of late though that seems to be fading, and I tend to see things with an even clearer mind.  Now, why did you steal my kill?”

The blood of the shargle now darkened the area around Grunk’s mouth, “Why, to provoke you of course.  I realized that the two of us never danced before.”

Neil’s hands gripped his weapons, his knuckled showing white as his grip increased, “I fear we may have to wait for that Grunk.”  Neil pointed with one of his machetes behind Grunk.  “I think these may have smelled the blood.”

Grunk turned, trusting in Neil’s honor enough that the peaceful native wasn’t trying to disrupt him, and saw the assembled beasts.  Several shargles were perched on the clifftop, some of them adorned with rainbow feathers, a sign that they are older, which made them much more ferocious than normal shargles.

“Ah,” responded Grunk with a sneer on his evil face, “Truce then, till we finish this brood of beasts.”

“Though it pains me to trust you defiler, or even team with me, I believe this may be necessary, if we are both to survive this.”

The tiger looked at the two of them and merely flicked it’s tail. 

Grunk went and stood beside Neil, “What are they waiting for then.”

“Most likely for one of us to show weakness,” said the hunter.

Grunk the Pale’s grin grew impossibly wide, “Yes they are,”  Grunk the hit Neil in the back of the head with one of his meaty fists.  Neil sprawled out on the ground and Grunk laughed, “You are too trusting fool.  That trust shall kill you.”

As Neil’s vision swam, he struggled to get back up.

“Stay down,” said Grunk, slamming his leg into Neil’s side, “Just let them kill you.  Think of it as sacrificing yourself to save me.  That fits your code of honor, doesn’t it?”

Grunk twirled the machete around, adjusting his grip to a reverse grip, “Allows me more leverage to....”  He never got to finish the sentence as a shargle jumped up into his face.  Grunk has to step back, and bring the machete up , blocking the deadly beak of the shargle.  Neil, in his part, was able to roll backwards and avoid two more of the beasts.  Coming to his feet, he drew his anscetor’s heavy sword, a beast of a weapon called Bear’s Roar.  The shargle jumped once more, only to be split into two pieces by the giant weapon.  The other shargles began to swarm forward, intent on their prey.

Grunk managed to knock the one off of him, but two more appeared in his vision.  Taking one’s head off, the other jumped on the blade, pining into the ground.  Grunk looked surprised by the beasts action, but before it had a chance to wound hiim, Grunk’s tiger tackled it to the ground.  Grunk rolled backwards, bringing his weapon up to intercept another shargle.

While these two humans danced with the shargles, the sky began to darken once more.  Clouds began to roll over the mountain, the smell of rain was brought in as the winds began to pick up. 

Neil’s sword was a killing machine.  Many shargles were dead around his feet, the older ones knew to stay out of his range.  His head was bleeding from where Grunk had hit him though, and his vision still swam.  He was seeing tendrils of energy floating about the shargles.  He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision.

Grunk meanwhile not having the same amount of kills as Neil was, instead made up for it with brute force.  Uncaring about his arms of legs, suffering many wounds on them, Grunk merely waded through the shargles, smashing their heads in with the now blunt machete, or throwing them when he boldly grabbed them.

Suddenly the shargles left.  They disappeared, running down the mountain side.

“HA!” shouted Grunk, “That was intense.  Wasn’t it Tathers?”

Neil stood leaning on his sword, blood matted the side of his head now, and he was pale.

“Well Neil, seeing as I’m wounded here, I think it’s time we finished this huh?  Your flesh should be a nice pick me up.”

Rain began falling.  Neil shook his head a few times, and lifted the sword into a defensive stance.

Lightning struck nearby, causing a tree to catch on fire.  Winds gusted around them, spreading the blaze quickly to underlying brush.  Rain began falling heavily now, and through it all the two combatants just stared at each other.  Neil lurched forward, feigning weakness, and Grunk charged, his machete raised.  Before he could connect, Neil moved impossibly fast, faking a dodge to the side, and with a similar move to the one he did on the shargle, he went to wound Grunk’s side.

Before the blow could hit, another one hit instead.  Lightning struck inbetween the two combatants, the world turned white, and they flew backwards, stumbling down the mountainside.  The duo slammed into trees and rocks alike, and neither was awake by the time they rested at the bottom.

A month Later
Neil’s Point of View

When I awoke, I was alone.

Grunk wasn’t there, and neither was his tiger.  My ancestor’s sword lay in ruins beside me, the blowpipe missing, the two kukri’s were presumably at the top of the mountain still.

I no longer needed them.  I no longer wanted to hold on to the past.

I spent much time on this side of the mountain, much time listening to my own thoughts and musing about what to do with the remainder of my life.

I have decided.

Trekking out of my cave with nothing more than a backpack, some herbs, and a pipe, I heading back to Raktam.  I’m going home.

Grunk’s Point of View

A tepid swamp is where I ended up.

I awoke before Neil.  I made a move to eat his body, but could not.  I physically couldn’t touch him.  It felt like I was pushing against gravity as I tried to get closer to him.

I felt the urge to run away.

I ran far.  I ended up in these harsh dunes, hidden from the town nearby, hidden from the life teaming in Kalmogal’s grave.  Hidden from the world.

Eventually my tiger found me.  He always did, and through him I was able to speak to Hodrali.

He told me to stop being weak.  Stop hiding and resurface.  And once again go forth and teach new cannibals the way of Grunk the Pale.

So I am.  I am coming back.

And where I travel, the harshness of my ways will follow.

[Milkchew]

Yeeeeyyyyy!