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Author Topic: Shartak Shorts  (Read 7683 times)
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Neil Tathers
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« on: January 30, 2009, 04:06:33 PM »

A thread for my short stories that I post on the forum.  Figured they would be better if they all were congregated into one spot.  Plus, its what this section is for.

Stories so Far:

Featuring Grunk the Pale

Gaining the Leadership of the Collective
Pirates Stole our Heritage!
The Spear, Found
Kalmogal's Grave
Kalmogal's Token


Featuring Rachel Stone

Wind in Her Hair Part 1
Wind in Her Hair Part 2
Wind in Her Hair Part 3
Wind in Her Hair Part 4
Wind in Her Hair Finale
Cannibalistic Medicine Part 1


Featuring Neil Tathers

Thrill of the Hunt Part 1
Thrill of the Hunt Part 2: Flashes of Insight
Neil's Final Resting Place
« Last Edit: December 14, 2011, 01:40:14 PM by Neil Tathers » Logged

Neil Tathers
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« Reply #1 on: January 30, 2009, 04:07:42 PM »

Gaining the Leadership of the Collective

An Undisclosed Swamp

Sploosh

Grunk the Pale’s foot squelched into the swampy ground.  The cannibal was alert, searching to make an alligator wasn’t sneaking up him.  Years of feasting on human flesh has left Grunk’s features deteriorate into the mass it is today.  His fingernails have grown long and sharp, his skin darkened due to months of traveling in the sun, and his mind alert from being attacked on all fronts.  Grunk raises his head and sniffs the fetid air.  He smelt a presence here, he could hardly believe it.  A strange cannibal, stranger than most, coerced Grunk to join a clan, the Collective he called it.  Cannibals who would work towards a common goal.  Grunk, young, impressionable, joined this clan and swam towards the island, eager to spread the fear of the cannibal.

This, however, was the last time he heard about the clan.  Never once did he receive news, never once was the Collective ever called, never once has Grunk actually seen a fellow cannibal.

But he remembered this smell, the only reason he braved the terrors of the swamp.  Grunk moved forward, and in his haste, forgot to test his footing.  Immediately he splashed down hard into the soft soil, his footing taken from him.  Cursing his awkwardness, Grunk lay still, fearing he alerted alligators to his presence.  After several moment, Grunk lifted his head.

A bright orange tiger was in the swamp, and only several feet away from Grunk.  The tiger was bigger than most, battle scarred, and what the Leaders of his village would call ferocious.  The tiger looked at Grunk with hatred in his eyes.  Springing quickly to his feet, the cannibal was no longer worried about alerting the wildlife to his presence, only to gain some distance on the tiger, to be able to fight back.  But luck was not with Grunk, as he stumbled into two alligators, which both turned towards him.  There teeth barred open, and they lunged. 

In his panicked state, Grunk’s senses sharpened, and that smell he had been chasing flared in his nostrils.  Grunk, knowing what he had to do, was going to hold his ground this time, and grabbing his wooden club, he swung at the first gator.  The gator was hit square in the head, but the second gator lunged.  Shifting his weight, Grunk launched himself into the air, away from the gator.  And in his space was the ferocious tiger that was following him.  The tiger latched onto the gator, dragging it back due to momentum.  Grunk focused in the first gator, still stunned, and attacked with the club.  The club repeatedly smashed into the gator’s skull, eventually breaking bone, in the splintering noise, brains leaked out of the smashed skull.  Grunk spun around, to face the victor of the animal fight.

The tiger stood over the mangled body of the alligator.  It looked at Grunk, lowered it’s head, and grabbed the dead gator’s body, it’s own kill.  It proceeded to drag the body up a dead tree to consume it.  Grunk left the tiger to its own devices, and followed the scent once more.  It was close by, and it was mangled.

The cannibal known as Anthropophagi was there, his body torn to shreds, his breath coming out in raspy gasps.

“Leader?” said Grunk, the first words he had spoken in days.

“Who..who is there?” muttered Anthropophagi, “Grunk…is that you?”

“What has happened?”

“Lots of things Grunk, lots of things.  I need you to do something for me Grunk, I need you to look after the Collective.”

“Why?  Hodrali will bring you back; he always brings us back, even if the others won’t.”

“I fear that I won’t be coming back.  I couldn’t handle the hardships Grunk, I may not want to come back, simply stay as a ghost on the island.”

“You were never weak before.”

“Exactly why I shouldn’t lead.”

“No, you should stay as Leader.”

“Grunk, let go of the past.  Face the future, you have wrought terror onto this island, your blood brothers, Narkan, Khali, the others, they all have spread the cannibal way to the island.  Grunk, you need to lead them.”

Grunk looked at the Leader, “Do what you wish, but I will not remember you as this beaten individual before me, but as the warrior you once were.”

“Thank you Grunk,” muttered Anthropophagi, and his last breath left him, his body lay still in the swamp.

“Weak flesh would not bring any substance to me,” muttered Grunk, moving away from the dead body.  He struck a fire that night, and cook the alligator from before, giving the offals to the ferocious tiger that still dwelled in the area.  When the sun rose the next morning, he knew what was needed.

Cannibals needed to be feared once more.
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« Reply #2 on: January 30, 2009, 04:08:33 PM »

Pirates Stole Our Heritage!

The fetid swamps behind him, Grunk the Pale stood on a beach, facing the ocean.  The salt air felt cleansing on his skin.  The tiger from before was still nearby, stalking him, or merely waiting to share in the cannibals next kill, Grunk did not know or care.  He was remembering a story from the past, one told to him by his Elders.   

Years Ago

The fire crackled in the background, giving heat to the otherwise cold dark cave.  A group of young cannibals sat around the firelight, watching an Elder with rapt attention.  He was telling them a story, a story of their past. 

“This story is a story about our Gods, the Dark Ones the natives call them, but we call them the Earth Gods.  They blessed us with our way of life, our way of thinking, and our own skills.”  The Elder held up a spear for the children to look at.

The first thing young Grunk noticed was the spear was black, completely black.  The black seem to absorb the light of the fire.

“This spear we were recently able to fashion from the rock found underground, which our Gods led to us.  The rock is what we have called Obsidian, and we fashioned this spear out of it.  It is harder than any of our current weapons, and much harder than the machetes that those island natives use…”

Currently

The tiger growling woke Grunk from his reverie.  Grunk turned to look at the reason why the tiger was growling.  A fellow Cannibal, the massive Khali emerged of the forest growth.

“Grunk.”

“Khali.”

The two cannibals took that as a greeting.  Khali approached, dragging a fresh kill behind him.

“Mine.” Said Khali.

“Yes, I know.”

“Good.”  Khali sat down on a nearby rock and began to eat.  Grunk let him have his feast before asking Khali a question.  The sun began to set in the background.

“What happened to the Obsidian Spear.” Asked Grunk.

“What are you talking about?” replied Khali, throwing the offal to the tiger, “And why does this tiger follow you?”

“The tiger follows cause it seems to get free food from me.  I think he’s secretly waiting for me to put my guard down.  And the Obsidian Spear, what do you know of it?”

“I know the weak willed natives call it the Spear of the Accursed Ancients.”

Grunk looked surprised, “I was in Dalpok for a while, and I heard some of them talking about it.  They said a pirate was talking about a black spear, that never broke, and that they are hoarding it in the shipwreck of theirs as treasure”

Grunk lifted a finger, farther down the beach the looming wooden structure known as the shipwreck stood out against the setting sun.

“They hoard our heritage, no one should do that.  Khali, I say we dine on pirates till they give it back to us.”

“I’m always hungry.” Responded Khali smiling.

“Good.” Muttered Grunk, and the two cannibals blended into the forest as the sun set on the island of Shartak.

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« Reply #3 on: January 30, 2009, 04:12:13 PM »

Wind in her hair
Part 1

She sat at the edge of the mountain path, marveling at the beauty of the jungle around her.  This young native shaman, known to others around her as Rachel Stone, let the wind blow through her raven black hair.  Stark green eyes looked over the mountain, and from here, she could see a lot more than from her native village of Wiksik.  The death of her mentor, Black Fang, left a gaping hole in her heart, and she hoped that somewhere up here she could figure out what she was missing.  Her skin, tanned slightly in the summer sun felt chills as the wind grew stronger.  Rachel wrapped her fur cloak around her body tighter.  The white fur on it reminded her of something that happened in her short life.

Years Previously

"Take that BACK!" screamed the young girl, only one meter tall, but full of spunk.  The eight year old had a much larger boy pinned to the ground protecting his face as she scratched at him.

"What is wrong with you!” said the boy as his friends looked on at laughed at his misfortune.

"You take what you said back!” screamed the young girl, who know was punching the boy in the arms, trying to get a shot in on his face.

“You are in trouble!  Maybe she wants to make out with you next.” Said one of the boys friends.  The girl stopped hitting and stared at the speaker.  He visibly paled.

“What did you say?” she said through clenched teeth.

“Oh crap.” Said the speaker, who then ran off with his friends.  The boy underneath the girl took the distraction offered, and pushed her off, running through the thickening crowd.

“GET BACK HERE!” she shouted.  The boy had disappeared though, leaving the young girl shouting at nothing.  She turned around, and saw what qualified as, A Sight.

The person standing behind her was a huge man, in height and girth.  His body was covered in white hair, and the girl couldn’t tell if the hair was from him, or from the shaggy coat the person wore.  Her jaw dropped.

“Well, hello.” Said the hairy man.

“You look funny,” the girl replied.

“What’s your name young one?”

“Rachel.”

“Well then Rachel, you seem to have a temper.”

“He called me a tramp.”

The man laughed hard, “I see, then he deserved the beating he got.”  The man went to walk around her.

“Where you going?”

“Hunting.  No place for young girls.”

Rachel’s green eyes grew serious, an odd sight for someone so young.  “What did you say?”

“Well then young one,” said the big hairy man, “Try to keep up.”  

With that he strode into the jungle, and the little girl followed.  She was amazed how quickly he blended into the jungle, being as unique as he was.  She only managed to follow him a few steps into the jungle before losing him.

She didn’t let that stop her; she waited for the hairy man the next day.  She followed him again, and found she could follow a few more steps.

And this went on….

Present

A twig snapping was all it took for Rachel to jump into the tree she was leaning against.  An outsider came into view, holding a deadly rifle in his hands, looking nonplussed, as if he didn’t even know Rachel was staring at him.  He whistled as he looked at the view spread before him.  Taking out something from his pocket, he began to munch on it, and sat down, putting his back against the tree, and smiling to himself.

Rachel stayed above him, waiting…

Part 2

Years previously

Eventually she found the white furred man.  It took months of following him, but she learned how to follow him through the wilderness.  When she found him, he was standing over a recently killed outsider.

"You know what these are?"

"Oppressors, fools..." said Rachel.

"Yes, they are your enemy.  Granted not all of them are evil, but a majority of them are.  Do you know how to use this yet?"

The man held up a dagger.  Rachel scowled, of course she knew how to use a dagger.  She held her own in imitation.

"Then, time for you to learn to use this."  He took out a machete, and held it hilt first to her.  Ignoring the dead body, the young girl grabbed the machete and when the white haired man let go, it was evident the blade was too heavy for her, and it dropped both her arms.

"Hrm." said the white haired man, taking the machete back.  "Something thinner and lighter..."  He picked up a cutlass from the dead body and handed it to her.  This time the girl was able to hold the cutlass, though it still took both hands.  "Good.  We start your training tomorrow."

She smiled.

Present

The outsider seemed preoccupied about something or another pulling out a piece of paper, and mumbling to himself.  Rachel had the perfect chance to get a quick clean kill, but this was a filthly outsider, they didn't deserve a quick clean kill, they deserved to suffer.

She vaulted out of the tree, landing nimbly before the outsider, one of her cutlasses drawn, before the outsider could even move.  The sharp blade hovered near his throat.

"Damn it, it's you."

The outsider simply smiled, "You know, most people say hi instead of greeting another human being with a sword in that throat."

"Most people annouce their prescene."

"Not many people miss the pink and purple scarf."

"I have a sword to your throat, why are you arguing with me?"

"Cause," said Twist, pausing to finish chewing the bite of sandwich he had, "It's fun."  He smiled, "And it's not everyday I get to talk to a beautiful woman.  Though you should wear something, pink and purple, Yes, those would suit you nicely.  I think I got something in my backpack."

"What do you want Twist."

"Avatar's heard you were up here, wants to speak with you about something or another.  I forget the details, would have written it down, but that would take away precious space where I can write down the latest Bovs score.  Did you know that..."

The sword moved ever closer.

"Wow, I'm getting a shave for this?  Awesome, but please, leave a little bit on the chin, I want to look more manly.  Do you think it will make me look more manly?"

Rachel sneered, "Do you even listen to yourself?"

"Nope, find it's much better that way.  Sandwich?"  Twist holds up his half eaten one with a smile, "You look like you need a good cheeseburger."

Rachel sheathed the sword, she had no idea why the outsider was allied with them, or why the Avatar would allow a silly little outsider side with them, "No, and try to keep up with me."  She proceeded into the jungle.

"HEY!  Has anyone called this piece of land anything?" asked Twist, shouldering his rifle, and falling in behind Rachel.

"Can't say they have."

"Then let's call it Makeout Point, I mean, with that view and everything, it would be the perfect place to make out." said Twist, "Of course, I would need to try that out first before I can make it the official make out point on Shartak and all."

Rachel rolled her eyes, and didn't comment, instead melted further into the jungle, not caring if she lost the annoying outsider or not.

Part 3
Years Previously

Rachel was now twelve, a time when a native child choose their path through life.  She stood in the center of Wiksik, in a gathering of other children her age.  Next to her was a flighty young girl, who was way too happy for the events folding around her.

"Hey Rachel." she said.

"Lily." responded Rachel, her hand tightening around the grip of the cutlass the white haired man had given her.  "What do you want?"

"I can't say hi?"

"Not unless you got a reason."

Sillylilypilly laughed, "Please, you are always so serious.  You need to relax sometimes."

Rachel let the cutlass she wore out of the sheath a bit, "You need to find someone else to talk too."

"You won't attack me, not with him watching."

In the crowd, Rachel noticed the white haired man.  She put the cutlass back into the sheath.

"I'm going to become a warrior, and follow in his footsteps." said Rachel.

"Well I'm going to become a Necromancer," said Sillylilypilly, pointing at the strange looking Etherdrifter, a shaman who dressed in black robes.  His face was hidden, but some said that he was in fact a dead human, brought back to life in a different way than the elder shamans do it.  His adopted dark skinned daughter was by his side, tall and thin.

"I would never peg you for one such as that group."

"The guys in the group are hot." said Sillylilypily, "That's why."

Tapran, the eldest shaman in Wiksik spoke, "Children of Wiksik, now is the time to choose your journey in life.  One at a time I will call you..."

As he droned on Rachel waited.  When he got to her, she stood up and went to declare herself a warrior.  But a glance from the white haired man made her look at him.  He mouthed the word shaman, a healer.  Why would she want this?  She did not know what his intentions were, but she followed where he led, so she choose shaman.  Tapran sent her to stand with the other shaman recruits.

"Thought you were going to be a warrior." said Sillylilypily.

"Me too." spoke Rachel.

Currently

It was the wailing that finally broke Twist's incessant chattering.  "Shush." Rachel said.

"Why?  You don't want to learn the rules of football?"

Then he heard it too.  He unslung the rifle.  A serious look crossing his face.

"What's that from?"

"Not the village, we aren't close enough yet."  Said Rachel, taking out her dual cutlasses, and running through the jungle.  Coming to a clearing they saw a tall blond, with an oak staff held above her head.  Several bodies lay near her.

"BEGONE!" she shouted, the misty form of a spirit above her screamed and a loud bang happened, sending the spirit away.  Rachel immediately sheathed her cutlasses and inspected the bodies.  Natives, all of them, they weren't dead, but close enough.

"What happened?"

"Training," said Sillylilypily, "These are the newest batch of Necromancers.  Having them experience the pain of the dead is part of the course."

In the six years that have passed since the choosing, Sillylilypily had lost most of her childlike curiosity of the world, and replaced it with a serious tone.  She was also involved with the current leader of the Kingdom, the Avatar.  Rachel liked the new serious attitude, though she knew Sillylilypily would relapse back to the carefree one now and then.

"Why did the Avatar summon me?"

"Straight and to the point, as always Rachel," responded the blond Necromancer, "Help me heal these recruits, then I'll show you were the Avatar is."

Rachel took out a pouch of healing herbs.  She went about the work that the white haired man told her to master, which she did with all of her ability.

Twist was speaking in the background, "So, there's this ball made of pigskin...."  

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Neil Tathers
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« Reply #4 on: January 30, 2009, 04:12:41 PM »

Wind in Her Hair, Part Four
Years Earlier

She was becoming the most accomplished healer in the town of Wiksik.  Her abilities in the art of healing were unparalleled, though this wasn't her choice, she was going to do it the best she could to impress him, the white haired man.

Sitting in the Med Hut one day, she watched a wounded warrior walk in, tall, dark and skinny.  He walked up to her station, smiling at her.

"I'm busy," she said, tending to the old shaman currently occupying her time.

"That's alright," responded the warrior, "I'll wait."

Rachel gave him a glance, "Don't bleed everywhere then."

He laughed, "I'll try not too."

Rachel rolled her eyes, and resumed working on the old shaman.  When she was done the shaman thanked her and left the hut.  Rachel stood looking at the warrior.

"You had plenty of other healers to go too."

"But I like you, much better than the rest of them."

Rachel's eyes smoldered, "I'm not interested in you like that Twiggie."

The warrior known as Twiglet simply chuckled, "You call me Twiggie, that's interest enough.  You know what the others call you?"

"No," said Rachel.

"They call you Rachel Stone, cause you let no one in.  It's bad to hold stuff back like that."

"Rachel Stone eh?"

Twiglet smiled, "Yup."

"I like that."  Without warning she stuck some healing herb poultice on Twiglet's arm, he cringed in pain. 

"You could have warned me." he winced.

"Pansy." said Rachel, fixing up the warriors wounds.  She let out a little smile.

Currently

"There, you'll be fine," Rachel said to her last patient, a young necromancer in training.  She smiled, and meekly stood behind Sillylilypily.  Rachel looked up at her, meeting her eyes, "Now, the Avatar is where?"

"He's at the Skull Throne right now," replied Sillylilypily, "Though I don't think you've been in there...since."

Rachel narrowed her eyes, "Shut up."

"No!  You need to talk about what happened!" shouted Sillylilypily, surprising everyone present.  Even Twist, who stopped explaining the rules of football to a trainee necromancer for a moment, gave a surprised look.

"What happened?  Something happened?" said Twist, "Where was I?  Seriously, were you two naked?  Together?  IN THE BATHHOUSE!  Why didn't no one tell me this?"

Rachel spun, her fist catching Twist on the chin, sending the Yorker backwards into the ground from surprise.  She looked at him, with murder in her eyes.  Taking out a cutlass, she went to stab him but before she could, a hand grab a hold of her hand, stopping the cutlass' descent.

"Enough," said the commanding voice, "He does not know."

"I'LL KILL HIM!" shouted Rachel.

"Ancestors, forgive me," said the man who was holding her arm, the Avatar of the Kingdom of Skulls. 

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!  I'LL KILL HIM!" shouted Rachel more, struggling against grip.

The Avatar looked sorrowful as Rachel felt a small sting on her back.  She felt something draining her energy, making her fall asleep.  She struggled against it, but she quickly succumbed to the whatever she was drugged with.

"This really necessary?" she heard Sillylilypily say.

Then the darkness took her.

Finale
One Year Ago

"Stop it Twiggie." said Rachel, pushing Twiglet away from her.  The night air was refreshing after the hot day, and she went outside to relax.  Twiglet, who hadn't stopped his advances towards her, had found her out here this night, and was trying his hardest to seduce Rachel.  And failing at that.  But he decided he was getting somewhere with her, she hadn't tried to kill him yet.

"Why Rach?  The whole time I've known you you've never shown any affection," he pleaded, "To anyone."

Rachel gave him a look, "I told you, I'm saving myself."

"For who?  The Grand Tyrant Or something?"

The cold stare returned to her eyes.  Rachel turned to stalk off.

"That's it isn't it?  You are in love with the Tyrant.  Rachel, he's the Grand Tyrant.  Why would he ever want a healer like you?"

She stopped walking and turned to face him, "Take.  That.  Back."

"No I won't.  You need to get rid of this childhood fancy of yours.  He has other girls he is interested in, not too mention a concubine or ten.  Rachel, yes he trained you as a child, yes he put you on your path to being a healer, but he doesn't love you, not like that."

Rachel walked up to Twiglet.

"Stuff it Twiglet, I'll show you right now he does."  She grabbed his arm in a vice grip, and dragged the warrior to the hut that housed the Skull Throne.  Without thinking, she simply walked in.

The Skull Throne was impressive, during the day anyways.  A giant throne made of skulls dominated the back of the hut, while cushions were laid out on the ground for visiting dignitaries, and other peoples who wish to talk to the Grand Tyrant, the white haired man, Black Fang. 

But now, the throne was empty, instead, several people were on the cushions, in various states.  Smoke filled the room as a thick smell hung in the air, incense burning over a fire.  Rachel recognized a mysterious man called Anthor, and Sillylilypily entwined in each other's embrace, watching the fire, and others she did not know.  But her gaze focused on Black Fang, who was currently in the embrace of a slut.

Or what Rachel assumed was a slut. 

Black Fang looked up, "Ah Rachel, bringing Twiglet here?  Care to join us?  It's about time you found a man for yourself."

"I already found one."

Twiglet did not like what was going to come next, but he was unable to grab Rachel in time.  She sprung, like a cat, heading for Black Fang, her drawn cutlass reflecting the firelight.  Several people moved at once.

Anthor practically threw off Sillylilypily, drawing a large sword from nearby and getting in Rachel's way.  But he he was not expecting Rachel too nimbly leap over his blade, and continuning onwards.

Black Fang, who trained Rachel, and expected that maneuver from her was already in her way.  He didn't even bother going for the cutlass, instead grabbing one of Rachel's arms, and taking her down in a smooth armbar.  He looked up at Anthor, who was sweeping in for a kill.

"Stop, she isn't trying to kill me."

That was evident enough, as Rachel, using her other arm, drew a dagger and went to throw it at the girl.  Black Fang simply twisted her arm, causing a painful gasp from Rachel which caused her to drop the weapon.

"What is your problem girl."

"She is the problem," said Rachel through clenched teeth, "You love me, not her!"

"I love you as a father would love a daughter Rachel, I'm sorry that you mistook that for something else."

"LET ME GO!" Rachel shouted, her eyes wide, water gathering in them.  Black Fang did, and Rachel ran from the hut, shame evident on her face.  Twiglet went to pursue, but Black Fang stopped him with a glance.  "She'll heal, in her own time."

Rachel ran into the jungle, leaving the town of Wiksik behind her.

Currently

Her head hurt.  She opened her eyes, thankful the light was dim.  She felt heat, and turning around a fire blazed in her eyes, causing more searing pain.  Squinting her hurt eyes she felt around for weapons, and came up empty.

"They are on the other side of the hut.  I hope you can forgive me for this, but it needed to be done.  It was one of his requests you know, to heal you." said the voice of the Avatar.

Rachel turned to look at Anthor, "You bastard." she muttered.  "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"

"Yet you followed Twist back to Wiksik, you came when I requested you come, maybe, just maybe somewhere deep inside you, you wanted closure."

"Maybe, just maybe I wanted to kill you.  Considering the last time we met."

"The last time we met Rachel, was at Black Fang's funeral.  And don't over exaggerate the other meeting, you drew a blade and charged him."

Rachel, her eyes adjusting to the light of the fire, looked away.

"He wanted you to heal you know.  It hurt him when you ran away." replied Anthor to Rachel's silence, "And I'm here to help you do that."

"You touch me and I will kill you, I don't care who you are."

"I'm not going to touch you Rachel."

"Then what are you going to do?"

Anthor sat on the other side of the fire, folding his legs up.  His eyes rolled in the back of his head, and he started to hum.  Rachel let him do that, and walked to where her weapons lay.  She gathered them, and went to leave the hut.  "Stupid drugged out..."

"Sit down Rachel." said Anthor in a voice not like his at all.  Rachel found herself sitting down before it even registered who it was.

"Black...Fang?" she whispered.

"Yes dear.  I need to speak with you."

~~~~~
Hours later

Rachel left the hut before Anthor became Anthor again.  She had said her final farewells to Black Fang, and healed some of the damage to her heart, though she still ached for his death.  The sun was bright to her, though it was setting in the west.  Sillylilypily, Twist, and some others were outside the hut, playing a game of football with some younger Wiksikians.  The ball landed and rolled in front of Rachel.

"HEY!" shouted a young girl, "PASS IT HERE!"

"I think she'd rather pass it to a strapping young lad," said Twist, with a cocky grin.

Rachel smiled, "Want another player?" she asked the young girl.

"YEA!" shouted the children.

"Then let's kick their collective butts," smiled Rachel, hitting the ball straight at Twist's face.

~Fin~
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« Reply #5 on: February 04, 2009, 02:35:31 AM »

The Spear, Found.

Grunk was in a pitched fight.  The cannibals gained a foothold on the ship, overtaking the galley and hold, now searching a cabin for any traces of the spear.  Pirates were thick here, the older more cunning ones arriving at the last moment, refusing to let the cannibals gain their heritage back.

"Well then you stinking native, you smell almost as bad as Bellamy over there!" said the pirate, who was cornering Grunk into the cabin wall.  Grunk's back hit the rotten wood.  Khali, who was dueling with Bellamy, and another pirate, roared, trying to dispose of his adversaries, but failing.

"OH!  Got past your guard there, didn't I?" said the pirate dueling Grunk, knocking the wooden club to the side, and scoring a hit with his cutlass through Grunk's shoulder.  Grunk growled. 

"You will pay for that pirate."

"Oh really," said the pirate assuming a quizzical face, "I don't think so, cause see I'm holding this cutlass, and it's about to go through your...."

The pirate stopped in mid-sentence.  The reason was a spear, black as night, was shoved through his skull, parting it like a knife through a banana.  Grunk smiled.  "Khali, we found the treasure."

Khali laughed, throwing a dead pirate over his shoulder, "And look at the young one who found it."

The cannibal who was holding the spear was small for a cannibal, in fact, Grunk wasn't sure the man was a cannibal at all.  He feasted on flesh more often than other cannibals, though he still hasn't reached Khali levels yet, he would get there soon enough.  Flesh would seem to decay on his bones, and if the young one didn't eat, he looked even worse.  With the spear in his hands, his eyes glowed with their own inner blackness.

"Grunk, I have found the treasure."

"Excellent work Nihilio, you know what to do with it."

Below them, a pirate screamed in pain.  Nihilio neatly skewered the pirate with spear, "Yes I do."

Grunk roared in approval, and the three cannibals feasted on pirate flesh.  As they left, a darkness descended on Shartak.

The cannibals were a force to be feared.
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« Reply #6 on: February 12, 2009, 04:41:51 PM »

Kalmogal's Grave

Grunk faced the fire, around him were three cannibals.  One was Khali, his monstrous bulk casting even huger shadows in the firelight.  The other was Nihilo, the Obsidian spear resting in his hands, soaking up whatever light got near it.

Lastly was the cannibal Narktan.  He could be taken as a Wiksikian, or maybe a rough Dalpokian, as his features weren't as deteriorated as most cannibals.  His body though was covered in a series of tattoos and piercings, each one a symbol of his cunning mind.  Narktan was a thinker, a strategist, an unusual cannibal.  His eyes always searching for the stronger prey, so while he not boast an impressive kill count like Khali and Nihilo, he has been known to play with his prey, laughing as they try to get away.

Grunk looked at Narktan, "Tell me brother, what did you and Nihilo see?"

Narktan cackled, him and Nihilo had went to Gra'Kalmogal, the honored grave site of a Elder Cannibal.  There was a reason why no natives lived on the penisula that Durham was on was because a Cannibal town use to inhabit that area.  Grunk sent Narktan and Nihilo to check on the ruins of this old town.

Narktan grinned, "There was shiny lights on at night, several people milled about the ruins.  They had no respect for our dead.  So, I ate them."  He cackled, holding his sides in laughter.

Narktan was prone to fits of laughter, genius always came with a price.

"Did you find out where they are from?" asked Grunk.  Behind Grunk, the old ferocious tiger that followed him growled, shifting it's weight and falling back asleep.  Absentmindedly, Grunk threw a piece of meat it it's direction.  It was soon gone.

"Oh yes!" said Narktan, "Nihilo here wanted to burn the place to the ground, but I said no, wait, they will come back, since the shamans here bring back the dead, and yes, they did come back!  OH YES!  And when they did, they had even greater numbers!"  He broke into another fit of laughter.

"I killed even more, we killed even more," Responded Nihilo, stroking the Obsidian Spear.  Grunk liked how unnerving his compatriots where, the madness floating between the lines of sanity and insanity.  Enough to follow, but not blind devotion, more as a guideline.  Grunk cultivated this to his needs.

"And, one of them, screaming like, like, a wounded monkey, HAHAHAHHA!" squealed Narktan, "He told me where they came from.  A town of Durham."

"Durham, the town stuck on the peninsula, separated from everyone, using our holy land?" said Grunk.  "This I do not like."

Khali finally spoke, a deep voice, "I say we eat them."

"Even more," Responded Grunk, "Kalmogal was known for torturing his prey first.  I say we starve them, then eat them."

Narktan chuckled again.

"Time to inform the Collective of our next target."
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« Reply #7 on: February 20, 2009, 01:50:24 AM »

Cannibalistic Medicine Part 1
 
The forest was welcoming as Rachel walked through the hidden paths known only to a select few.  Stopping outside of a clearing, she heard a twig snap.  She jumped upward, latching onto a branch, and pulled herself into the treetops.  Her snake, Balthazar, hissed and slithered, uncoiling himself from her neck, and onto the tree branch.  His tongue tasted the air, before he jumped.
 
"What are you..." started to mutter Rachel before she heard a hearty laugh.
 
"That little twit." said Rachel beneath her breath as she jumped down from the branch to confront the person whose laugh she knew.
 
He was a cannibal, and was currently letting Balthazar slide through his fingers.  For a cannibal he didn't sport the whole strange creature from
below thing that they do.  Though his fingers resembled claws, and his teeth did resemble fangs, his cheery attitude made him seem like a
normal human.
 
Rachel thought of a saying she heard as a child, "Don't try to tame tigers girl, they may follow you around for awhile, but eventually you
become a meal for them."  She couldn't help but compare these tigers to cannibals.  Some may be your friends, but eventually, they all think
about where their next meal is coming.
 
"Hello Ash," she said, "Why you following me?"
 
Ash smiled, his fangs glinting, "Why, I can't follow a beautiful lady?"
 
Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"Oh what, heard that one before?" said Ash, with a smile.

"I'd expect something like that from Twist, not from you Ash."

"Maybe the guy is rubbing off on me," said Ash handing Balthazar back to Rachel.  The little snake slithered around Rachel's arm, settling on the upper shoulder.  "Animals do love me."

"Cause they recognize the smell of never taking a bath," scowled Rachel.

Ash reached into his backpack, and took out a small spherical object.  It was a smokey color on the inside, "Found this in that new temple, and can't figure out what it is, any ideas?"

Rachel looked at it without touching the sphere, "It looks like it was blown by some guy who smoked too much.  That's what I think."

"Does nothing spark your interest Rachel?" said Ash, putting the sphere away.  "What are you hiding?"

"Absolutely nothing, not anymore at least."  Rachel turned to face the sun, "I merely know that I'm doing what I want to do now.  And mysteries don't interest me at all."

"Then praytell sweet healer, what does interest you?"

Rachel smiled, "We shall see, won't we?  I know that's not the answer you look looking for Ash, but it's the one you are going to get."

Ash smiled, "Then where are you headed at least?"

"To the west, see what's out there."  Rachel looked back at Ash, "You can follow, as long as you keep yourself to, well, yourself."

"I guess that works for me." replied Ash, "Lead the way."

With that the two healers set off westward.
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« Reply #8 on: March 19, 2009, 01:30:36 PM »

Kalmogal's Token

Bloody, battered, bruised, but victorious none the less.

The fight was a vicious one, the outsiders were more organized, ready, and willing to do anything to live this time around.  The cannibals fought, some fell, but even if one shaman was dead, others would revive them.  The cannibals kept coming, moving forward like the tides in the ocean, eventually finding favor with their ancestors.

Kalmogal's Grave

Grunk the Pale rested here, leaning against ruined brickwork and rotten wood that consituted a majority of the buildings in this area.  The surrounding forest was dead, as if nothing could grow in this area.

Nothing could.  Kalmogal and his band of cannibals saw to that.

Tkltchk entered the clearing, walking like an ape, but he entered cautiously, he has crossed paths with Grunk before.  He has killed Grunk before.  He had feasted on Grunk before.  They both know this.

"I...helped...I...feasted..." spoke Tkltchk, making sure his head was below Grunk's, his eyes casted downward.

"Yes, you did the best out of us brother," said Grunk, "I do not like you Tkltchk."  He said the name with venom.  "You feasted on me when we were young.  The shamans' brought me back yes, but you still feasted."

Tkltchk heard noises above him, and looked around in wide eyed wonder as several cannibals appeared on the ruined rooftops of the buildings.  He recognized the high pitched laugh of Narktan, he saw the black spear of legend being held by Nihilo, but others he didn't know from sight, or from reputation.

The world seem to vanish though as a cannibal appeared before Tkltchk.  One of them was tall, but skinny none the less.  He was pale, paler than the outsiders Tkltchk had saw.  Tkltchk notice the cannibal walking to him, so he stood, to his full height.  The cannibal placed a glove in Tkltchk's hand.

"You have earned this brother.  Take my glove, as a token on my gratitude."

The cannibal vanished, and the world came back in a focus.

"What....." said Tkltchk holding a glove in his hand, "..happened?"

Grunk the Pale smiled, "Narktan, what is he holding?"

The strange cannibal jumped down from the rooftop and landed gracefully on the ground.  He examined the glove in Tkltchk's hand.  He held it up to the sun, he tasted the fibers, then he smiled.

"It is a symbol of Kalmogal!  He has found us worthy!"

The cannibals cheered.  Grunk the Pale looked at Tkltchk.

"The glove is yours to keep.  I may not like you, but you are still one of us."  He turned to address the group.  "Cannibals!  Let us find new prey!"

The group dispersed, vanishing into the night.
« Last Edit: April 24, 2009, 04:12:33 PM by Neil Tathers » Logged

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« Reply #9 on: June 17, 2010, 02:33:23 AM »

Thrill of the Hunt, Part One

The tiger happily licked it's paws, cleaning the blood off of them.  Next to the tiger was the discarded carcass of a small deer, it's body ripped to shreds, bones scattered, the remains being picked at by rats, carrion birds, and other creatures courageous enough to get within the range of a tiger.

The noises of the night jungle suddenly ceased, and the tiger stopped in mid-lick.  It's eyes, ears, and nose were on high alert, something was near, something big.  It growled.

A blade erupted from the nearby brush, burning red, runes scarlet blazing on it's edge.  The tiger leapt backwards, but not fast enough, the blade scoring along it's front leg, nicking and severing a tendon.  Landing heavily on the injured leg, the tiger buckled, giving enough time for the blade striking it in the head, instantly ending the tiger's life.  Cackling, the person walked into the clearing, surrounded in shadows, rubbing his hand in the wet blood, smearing it a nearby tree, and walking away.

Morning

Injured from his fight with a maddened elephant, Neil limped his way to the native village of Dalpok, seeking first Aid and more weapons so he could continue his hunt.  Entering a clearing, he saw a few of Dalpok's stalwart defenders looking at a tree, all of them talking in hushed whispers, and urgent tones.

"What is it?" asked Neil, walking up the warriors, showing no fear.

The warriors quickly turned, several of them with machetes and daggers in hand, until they saw who it was.

"Neil," hissed one of them, a strange looking native.  Neil still doesn't know if the lizard getup was real or simply an elaborate costume, "This problem stems from your village."

"The jungle is my village Star God, not Raktam, not since her death." said Neil.

"Look at that symbol Raktami, and tell me what it looks like."

Neil took one look at the symbol, and his eyes became wide.  "How is this possible, I slayed him myself!"

"I don't know, but deal with this, we do not want this trouble in our village, it has enough already."

The Dalpokians left the clearing, muttering and casting uneasy glances at the foliage leaving Neil staring at the symbol in blood on the tree, the symbol of Armadox the Butcher.

"I...killed....him."
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« Reply #10 on: June 23, 2010, 02:18:22 AM »

Thrill of the Hunt: Part 2

Neil ran through the jungle, following the signs of Armadox's passing, blood here, a broken twig there, the faster he travled, the more heated his thoughts be came.

He killed my parents, he gloated over the dead bodies, he slaughtered my townspeople, he thought he was the best, the shaman shunned him, his last death was the end, and that was from my blades.

Neil's two kukri, etched with blue runes, where suddenly in his hands.  He came into a clearing, and saw Armadox, with his Scavenger Mask on, in a river, washing the blood off himself.  Neil pointed his kukri at him, "MURDERER!" and blood pounded in his head.  His eyes glazed over, and he charged.  Armadox didn't make a move to protect himself, and looked curious as Drove drove his kukri through Armadox's chest.  The eyes under the mask looked surprised, Neil's vision flooded red and he started to laugh.

"Why?"

"Because you deserved it."

"Why?"

"You are Armadox, that's way."

"Neil...it's Jace..."

Neil looked down, the mask disappeared, the red faded away, his blood pounding in his head calmed down, and he looked at the body impaled on his blade.

"Jace...what happened to Armadox?"

Then Neil noticed something else, the blue runes on his kukri were glowing, glowing red like Armadox's own swords.  Laughing erupted from around the jungle.  Neil forgot all about his most recent victim, and left the body dead on the forest ground.  He shouted at the clearing, "ARMADOX!" and gave chase almost immediately.

Back to the hunt.
« Last Edit: July 09, 2010, 08:59:57 PM by Neil Tathers » Logged

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« Reply #11 on: December 14, 2011, 01:39:47 PM »

Neil's Resting Place

Neil clambered on the shore of Midway, the mortal wound he received from Etherdrifter's dagger still hurting him in this life.  Seeing the tower as a respite from the sun he headed towards it hoping for a drink of water.

"There isn't one in there," said a female voice.  Neil turned to see a young healer who went by the name of Rachel Stone.  On her head was the headdress of the Tribe of Tarak, at her side where the cutlasses that Black Fang, her mentor, gave to her so long ago.

"You don't know that," said Neil, ignoring the fact that this person was most likely a hallucination brought on by his thirst, the wound in his eye, and the shark bites he acquired coming over to this spit of land.

"Oh, I know, been here before, found a relic in the beach actually."

"Why are you here?" said Neil.

"To see you off, that's why."

"I'll be resurrected again," said Neil, finally getting to his feet and gathering his weapons, "The shamans always do."

"Not now they won't," said a new voice, gutteral and primal.  Neil turned around to see the spirit of Grunk the Pale chuckling, "Remember when Fenris inhabited you, evidently his taint still is in your spirit, or maybe they just think it's time for you to move on, who knows?"

A very real, and very old tiger appeared alongside Grunk the Pale.  It walked over to Neil, and brushed up against the side of him, leading him into the tower.  Neil looked about and saw various people, a pirate trader wearing native clothing, a villager from Derby who looked like he was covered in soot, a scout from Dalpok whose clothes were wet, and lastly a soldier from York.  The soldier looked at him and said, "Eh Wot?  York is for Yorkers!"

Neil walked into the tower, ascending to the top floor.  As more and more of his blood escaped from his body, he leaned against the wall and took out a dagger.  He scrawled his last message, the dagger falling from his hands clanging on the stone floor of the tower.

As Neil died, he saw for the last time the beautiful water surrounding the isle, and thought of lost friends, and dead enemies.

And so ends the story of Neil.  To see what Neil wrote, visit the tower on Midway isle, the top floor.
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