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"Sons of the Hyena God" INC
May. 30th, 2022 07:28 pm"Sons of the Hyena God" INCOMPLETE
5/1216 DR
I.
Dropping down from the massive interlacing branches, eight Sons of the Hyena God landed lightly on their bare feet and charged at Romal. These were lithe, agile men of medium height, wearing only short kilts of red cloth and a few gold armbands or nose rings. They had the rich dark brown skin of Veganorans, glistening with oil that had been rubbed in to keep insects away. Some held long wavy-bladed daggers, some wielded thick cudgels with iron bands around the thick upper ends. As they attacked, all shrieked a high piercing war cry.
Whipping out his sword to meet them, Romal was as out of place in the jungles of Veganora as a polar bear would have been. He was several inches over six feet tall, powerfully built, wearing high boots, black pants and a pale blue cotton tunic with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The Mongrel was well tanned but still lighter in tone than the Veganorans, and his black hair was thick and straight. Under heavy brows, dark blue eyes narrowed in determination to survive.
If the Sons of the Hyena God expected an easy slaughter of this lone traveler, they were instantly disabused of that illusion. In Romal's Human-seeming body was the lightning quickness of a Snake man and the might of a Fighting Troll. The Mongrel whirled and slashed with his blade slicing deeply across bare chests or chopping nearly through exposed necks. None of the cultists managed to make contact against him. Romal had been expecting an ambush, perhaps he had even been eager for one. Withn seconds, he made a circle of dead or dying Veganorans around where he stood. Only two remained. One of the Sons of the Hyena God drew back his arm in preparation to throwing his knife. The Mongrel lunged far forward and drove his sword through the man's torso so that the bloodied point emerged between the shoulder blades. Romal did not try to tug his weapon free. He spun as the lone remaining killer brought a bludgeon directly toward his head...and the Mongrel stopped that club dead in mid-swing, catching it with his open hand as a man might catch a toy tossed to him by a child.
In a single movement, Romal wrested the bludgeon free and reversed it to cave in the cult member's skull with a wet thump. Expecting more attackers, he crouched with the red-smeared club in his hands. No more killers showed themselves. The Mongrel straightened up suspiciously and waited a bit longer, head cocked to one side as he listened. Revealed as his mane of black hair had fallen aside, his ears could be seen to rise to distinct points. More than anything else, they revealed him as the only one of his kind.
Finally, he tossed the war club aside and retrieved his sword. Cleaning it thoroughly with handfuls of grass, Romal inspected the blade for any chips along the edge. It seemed undamaged. This was one of the better swords he had possessed, a straight three-foot weapon of Signarm make. Returning it to the scabbard he wore on a baldric tied diagonally down across his chest, Romal bent to pick up the canvas knapsack he had dropped when he had sensed danger. There was no much in it except cooking utensils, a spare shirt and some dried meat and beans, but the two canteens strapped to its side were precious in a land where he might have trouble finding potable water.
Something was amiss, and he turned around to scrutinize his surroundings with the wariness of one who has often had all hands against him. Odd. From a nearby branch covered with yellow blossoms, a small brown monkey regarded him solemnly. The animal had an unexpected glint of awareness in its eyes. Chittering, it leaped straight up and vanished into the green canopy overhead. Romal smiled at himself. Was he becoming so timid that he worried about a harmless monkey watching him? He shook his head and set out briskly in the direction he had been heading before the Sons of the Hyena God had appeared.
He had never been in Veganora before. Romal was surprised at how much open space there was between the massive thick-boled trees. The bushes were scattered and left a mostly clear leaf-strewn surface that was easily paced. It was hot but not unbearably so as a constant light breeze made the air bearable. Birds calling in the distance and colorful insects fluttering past broke the sullen silence he had expected. From what travelers had told him, he had expected a thick barrier of vegetation that he would have to hack through inch by inch. This reminded him of the forests of southern Androval. The Mongrel admitted to himself that he was even enjoying this hike, now that the violence had passed.
There was that monkey again, peering out at him between leaves of a branch. How strange. Romal paused, hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and watched the little creature. Wait. Something was approaching, the faintest of rustles sounded that a less wary traveler might not have noticed. The Mongrel wrapped his fingers around his sword hilt and held the scabbard steady with his other hand. More members of that cult which had thousands living in fear? They would breathe their last if they met him.
Stepping out into the clearing was a young Veganoran warrior in the typical red kilt. He had let his hair grow out into a dark sunburst around his head and he wore a necklace of beaten gold discs marked with esoteric symbols, as well as hoop earrings also of gold. A leather strap from his right shoulder to his left hip had a four foot stabbing spear tied to it. As he came into view, the youth raised both open hands and called out in the Common Speech many spoke in many nations, "Hah! Romal indeed. You can be no other."
"Well, that settles what my name is," the Mongrel growled. "And you are...?'
"Gimtaka, youngest son of Mantaku, the Shambo Clan chief. I am told you have slain a half dozen Sons of the Hyena God, and for that you have my admiration and gratitude. Well done and well met."
Romal did not relax his belligerent attitude. "What do you say? How could you know this? Who could have told you of that clash?"
"Why, the little monkey there on that branch," Gimtaka said with a flash of perfect teeth. "Did you not know I can speak with beasts and birds as I speak to you?"
II.
5/1216 DR
I.
Dropping down from the massive interlacing branches, eight Sons of the Hyena God landed lightly on their bare feet and charged at Romal. These were lithe, agile men of medium height, wearing only short kilts of red cloth and a few gold armbands or nose rings. They had the rich dark brown skin of Veganorans, glistening with oil that had been rubbed in to keep insects away. Some held long wavy-bladed daggers, some wielded thick cudgels with iron bands around the thick upper ends. As they attacked, all shrieked a high piercing war cry.
Whipping out his sword to meet them, Romal was as out of place in the jungles of Veganora as a polar bear would have been. He was several inches over six feet tall, powerfully built, wearing high boots, black pants and a pale blue cotton tunic with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The Mongrel was well tanned but still lighter in tone than the Veganorans, and his black hair was thick and straight. Under heavy brows, dark blue eyes narrowed in determination to survive.
If the Sons of the Hyena God expected an easy slaughter of this lone traveler, they were instantly disabused of that illusion. In Romal's Human-seeming body was the lightning quickness of a Snake man and the might of a Fighting Troll. The Mongrel whirled and slashed with his blade slicing deeply across bare chests or chopping nearly through exposed necks. None of the cultists managed to make contact against him. Romal had been expecting an ambush, perhaps he had even been eager for one. Withn seconds, he made a circle of dead or dying Veganorans around where he stood. Only two remained. One of the Sons of the Hyena God drew back his arm in preparation to throwing his knife. The Mongrel lunged far forward and drove his sword through the man's torso so that the bloodied point emerged between the shoulder blades. Romal did not try to tug his weapon free. He spun as the lone remaining killer brought a bludgeon directly toward his head...and the Mongrel stopped that club dead in mid-swing, catching it with his open hand as a man might catch a toy tossed to him by a child.
In a single movement, Romal wrested the bludgeon free and reversed it to cave in the cult member's skull with a wet thump. Expecting more attackers, he crouched with the red-smeared club in his hands. No more killers showed themselves. The Mongrel straightened up suspiciously and waited a bit longer, head cocked to one side as he listened. Revealed as his mane of black hair had fallen aside, his ears could be seen to rise to distinct points. More than anything else, they revealed him as the only one of his kind.
Finally, he tossed the war club aside and retrieved his sword. Cleaning it thoroughly with handfuls of grass, Romal inspected the blade for any chips along the edge. It seemed undamaged. This was one of the better swords he had possessed, a straight three-foot weapon of Signarm make. Returning it to the scabbard he wore on a baldric tied diagonally down across his chest, Romal bent to pick up the canvas knapsack he had dropped when he had sensed danger. There was no much in it except cooking utensils, a spare shirt and some dried meat and beans, but the two canteens strapped to its side were precious in a land where he might have trouble finding potable water.
Something was amiss, and he turned around to scrutinize his surroundings with the wariness of one who has often had all hands against him. Odd. From a nearby branch covered with yellow blossoms, a small brown monkey regarded him solemnly. The animal had an unexpected glint of awareness in its eyes. Chittering, it leaped straight up and vanished into the green canopy overhead. Romal smiled at himself. Was he becoming so timid that he worried about a harmless monkey watching him? He shook his head and set out briskly in the direction he had been heading before the Sons of the Hyena God had appeared.
He had never been in Veganora before. Romal was surprised at how much open space there was between the massive thick-boled trees. The bushes were scattered and left a mostly clear leaf-strewn surface that was easily paced. It was hot but not unbearably so as a constant light breeze made the air bearable. Birds calling in the distance and colorful insects fluttering past broke the sullen silence he had expected. From what travelers had told him, he had expected a thick barrier of vegetation that he would have to hack through inch by inch. This reminded him of the forests of southern Androval. The Mongrel admitted to himself that he was even enjoying this hike, now that the violence had passed.
There was that monkey again, peering out at him between leaves of a branch. How strange. Romal paused, hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and watched the little creature. Wait. Something was approaching, the faintest of rustles sounded that a less wary traveler might not have noticed. The Mongrel wrapped his fingers around his sword hilt and held the scabbard steady with his other hand. More members of that cult which had thousands living in fear? They would breathe their last if they met him.
Stepping out into the clearing was a young Veganoran warrior in the typical red kilt. He had let his hair grow out into a dark sunburst around his head and he wore a necklace of beaten gold discs marked with esoteric symbols, as well as hoop earrings also of gold. A leather strap from his right shoulder to his left hip had a four foot stabbing spear tied to it. As he came into view, the youth raised both open hands and called out in the Common Speech many spoke in many nations, "Hah! Romal indeed. You can be no other."
"Well, that settles what my name is," the Mongrel growled. "And you are...?'
"Gimtaka, youngest son of Mantaku, the Shambo Clan chief. I am told you have slain a half dozen Sons of the Hyena God, and for that you have my admiration and gratitude. Well done and well met."
Romal did not relax his belligerent attitude. "What do you say? How could you know this? Who could have told you of that clash?"
"Why, the little monkey there on that branch," Gimtaka said with a flash of perfect teeth. "Did you not know I can speak with beasts and birds as I speak to you?"
II.
