ajqtrz
Chef - loquacious Old Dog
Something I'm writing in my spare time. Thought some would like to read it.
Day 1
The sun beat down upon him like the relentless thrum, thrum, thrum of the ancient stone drums. Flaming arrows, intense light, the suns’ beams burned and blinded him as he stumbled and staggered across the vast expanse of sand, silt and glimmering heat. He sweated. He panted. He pressed on, looking far, far into the distance, looking as far as his weak vision allowed, hoping for the cooling suggestion of moisture on the edge of the horizon. But none was to be found. The so-called oasis was nothing. A mirage woven of hope and wishful thinking in his meandering journey across the vast, naked lifeless void, without water, without promise. “Why,” he asked himself for the thousandth time, “Why do gods waste such space on sand, death and despair?
Far off, in another corner of the Kingom of Kol, wading in pools of squalor and rot, the debris of an ancient city, recently flooded, Katara crawled onto the only solid ground she had seen since beginning her journey at the rising of the sun. She looked at the long tentacles of barvra attached to her legs and torso and shuddered. There were, she estimated, maybe thirty. Thirty blood sucking worms gently consuming her thin blue blood. She shook her head, determined. Drawing her long blade, she began slicing them from her body. As she sliced a spurt of her own blood shot from the entrails of the dying creatures. Then as they released their grip and their suckers fell away a second spurt followed from the wound itself. Another gush of life departing before she could slap on the needed compress. She grew weak as she continued her grueling work. The soggy ground upon which she sat slowly turning dark with her blood. One, two, three fell away onto the earth. She angrily kicked them away into the brine. Five, ten, twenty, she grew faint. The bodies of the slimy creatures piled up around her as she could no longer waste her strength on feeding them to the rabid ocean of rot around her small island of safety. Eight to go. She refocused her attention concentrating on just staying alive as she prepared to remove the remaining putrid beasts. Three more fell away writhing on the blood-soaked ground. She fainted, awoke, and, regaining her focus, took out another two. Fainting again, she remained unconscious. Hours passed. Her eyes fluttered and opened. The sun had moved toward the horizon and the shadows of the ancient buildings had begun to cover her. She struggled into a sitting position. She was weak. It was getting cold. Still three to go. She grit her teeth, took up her blade and sliced two more. She was dizzy, cold, hungry, and could feel the last of her strength flowing away, like her blood, soaking the ground below her to be lost forever. Her eyes couldn’t focus properly, she wanted to sleep. Her head fell to the side, jolting her awake. But before she could focus on the last putrid beast, it began to fall to the side again, this time, taking her whole body with it. She came down hard like the fall of the dead. Her head struck the stone. The pavement of the silent city jolting her awake. That sharp pain sharpened her mind. Fully awake, if only for a moment, she remembered where she was, and the job it was life to complete and death to fail. For that brief moment her mind was sharp. Sharp just long enough to focus, to slice, to slap on the compress and to slip back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The distance from the sand to the rotting city may have been a thousand miles, but Jzthra knew of his mates condition as much as his own. He could sense the waning of her life over and over. He did know what she was fighting, but at the slicing of each of each infernal beast he felt her life slowly ebbing. He felt it because that was the way of the ancients. He knew because he and Katara were joined. Joined by the elders in a ceremony devised and executed each year to keep their culture and traditions safe. They were the people of Kol. They were the gifted of the gods. They were the givers of life and the guardians of light. And if he failed they would die.
Continue?
Day 1
The sun beat down upon him like the relentless thrum, thrum, thrum of the ancient stone drums. Flaming arrows, intense light, the suns’ beams burned and blinded him as he stumbled and staggered across the vast expanse of sand, silt and glimmering heat. He sweated. He panted. He pressed on, looking far, far into the distance, looking as far as his weak vision allowed, hoping for the cooling suggestion of moisture on the edge of the horizon. But none was to be found. The so-called oasis was nothing. A mirage woven of hope and wishful thinking in his meandering journey across the vast, naked lifeless void, without water, without promise. “Why,” he asked himself for the thousandth time, “Why do gods waste such space on sand, death and despair?
Far off, in another corner of the Kingom of Kol, wading in pools of squalor and rot, the debris of an ancient city, recently flooded, Katara crawled onto the only solid ground she had seen since beginning her journey at the rising of the sun. She looked at the long tentacles of barvra attached to her legs and torso and shuddered. There were, she estimated, maybe thirty. Thirty blood sucking worms gently consuming her thin blue blood. She shook her head, determined. Drawing her long blade, she began slicing them from her body. As she sliced a spurt of her own blood shot from the entrails of the dying creatures. Then as they released their grip and their suckers fell away a second spurt followed from the wound itself. Another gush of life departing before she could slap on the needed compress. She grew weak as she continued her grueling work. The soggy ground upon which she sat slowly turning dark with her blood. One, two, three fell away onto the earth. She angrily kicked them away into the brine. Five, ten, twenty, she grew faint. The bodies of the slimy creatures piled up around her as she could no longer waste her strength on feeding them to the rabid ocean of rot around her small island of safety. Eight to go. She refocused her attention concentrating on just staying alive as she prepared to remove the remaining putrid beasts. Three more fell away writhing on the blood-soaked ground. She fainted, awoke, and, regaining her focus, took out another two. Fainting again, she remained unconscious. Hours passed. Her eyes fluttered and opened. The sun had moved toward the horizon and the shadows of the ancient buildings had begun to cover her. She struggled into a sitting position. She was weak. It was getting cold. Still three to go. She grit her teeth, took up her blade and sliced two more. She was dizzy, cold, hungry, and could feel the last of her strength flowing away, like her blood, soaking the ground below her to be lost forever. Her eyes couldn’t focus properly, she wanted to sleep. Her head fell to the side, jolting her awake. But before she could focus on the last putrid beast, it began to fall to the side again, this time, taking her whole body with it. She came down hard like the fall of the dead. Her head struck the stone. The pavement of the silent city jolting her awake. That sharp pain sharpened her mind. Fully awake, if only for a moment, she remembered where she was, and the job it was life to complete and death to fail. For that brief moment her mind was sharp. Sharp just long enough to focus, to slice, to slap on the compress and to slip back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The distance from the sand to the rotting city may have been a thousand miles, but Jzthra knew of his mates condition as much as his own. He could sense the waning of her life over and over. He did know what she was fighting, but at the slicing of each of each infernal beast he felt her life slowly ebbing. He felt it because that was the way of the ancients. He knew because he and Katara were joined. Joined by the elders in a ceremony devised and executed each year to keep their culture and traditions safe. They were the people of Kol. They were the gifted of the gods. They were the givers of life and the guardians of light. And if he failed they would die.
Continue?