From: rev2@po.CWRU.Edu (Robert E. Vogel)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [Azend/Zjiria]- Relevations
Date: 25 Oct 1993 14:22:34 GMT
Message-ID: <2agnfb$hea@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>
References: <29l4gm$769@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>


ADMIN: This thread is a continuing to the parallel counterpart,
[Zjiria/Azend].  Azend, this story, and the Domaeki are copyrighted by
R.Vogel.  Sorry for the delay in posting.  Enjoy!
-------

>	"That might as well be, but I think I will have Havian check for us."
>	With a grunt, Havian hopped down from his horse and removed a long
>dagger.  The horsemen drew their horses back to watch the show.

	I dropped into a crouch, arms raised in defense.  Havian followed
into a similiar stance, but by the way he walked, I could tell that the was
not as versed in such combat as I.
	As a desert jackal, he lopped gracefully towards me.  At the last
moment, I did a deep knee bend, my other leg lashed out in a low circle.  I
connected above the ankle of the leg his weight was on.  Although it
knocked him off his feet, he rolled to the ground and scrambled up with
more ease than I would have liked to see.
	The other horsemen applauded my move with laughter that burned
Havian's face.  Such praise was destructive, more mocking towards my
opponent than approving my skill.  It would drive Havian to be ruthless and
force upon me to take more aggressive action than a simple trip.  I would
not doubt if such was the way of their life when as children, two would
fight and the rest gaod them on to greater bloodshed.
	Havian approached slower, in circling motion.  I circled and tried
to retreat, but his feet moved swifter over the terrain than mine.  The
back of my right foot caught a rock, I glanced for a moment down, and he
struck.  I barely caught the glint of steel in time to skip back.  He
thrust out, hoping to catch me before I could recover my equilibrium, but I
caught his forearm with my left and pulled his attack passed my shoulder.
	With my free right hand, I gave an open palm strike to his face. 
His eyes crossed; I disarmed the long dagger with a twist the next moment. 
My left elbow came down into his stomach, then I turned back and hit him
strongly in the chest with my right.  He toppled to the ground and lay
sprawled out.  I turned to look at the horseman leader.
	A moment of stillness passed, and then with puzzlement and
interest, "How interesting.  Who are you, traveller?"
	"By name, Azend."
	"Well, Azend, that was a good show.  Such skill should be talked
about, not slain.  We will be having a feast for having destroyed the Baal
outpost.  Would you care to accompany me and my men?"
	I bowed low, "I would be honored."
	"Delightful!  I am pleased to hear that.  Finish up and quickly!"
	The last was directed at several of the horsemen, who turned and
rode back to the village.
	"Come, Azend, let us see if we have more horses than riders.  I
dislike doubling men on horses, it slows the poor beasts down and tires
them so much faster."
	With that, I walked along side him as the rest of the horsemen
either accompanied me or rode ahead to help with the burning.
	As I walked towards the village, the smell of burning flesh hurt my
nose and I sneezed.  It was sickly sweet; I took a deep breath to steady
myself.
	The bodies of both defender and horse were put in huge pyres, naked
and discarded.  Before every body, the horsemen would strip it of
everything.  Clothing was often burned as well, but maybe a cloak or a
shash was saved.  I saw no mourning for the dead, but a torque would be
removed from each dead horseman and studied for identification.  The torque
was helded with respect, a treasured item, and the only thing I saw so
special to these people.
	I turned to the leader who was watching me, along with several
others.	
	"What be you people, by name and nature?"
	"We are the Domaeki, nomads of these mountains.  I am Sarken,
leader until death or defeated in battle."
	"You queried if I was sent by the Baals.  What be these Baals?"
	The moment I finished the phrase, the Domaeki around me turned and
spat on the ground.
	One spoke in a gruff growl, "The Baal be the absolutely
rotten-hearted bastards that profane this earth.  They're evil, cruel,
delighting in pain and torture, and sure that they are first chosen over
all creation."
	Another nearly hissed, "They die forever!  What kills three men
couldn't kill one of those low worms!"
	Various grumbles came of that one, and several mentioned in bits
and pieces of their stamina and prowess.  Though lore and legend was more
than could be true, such feats were unnerving to hear.  I caught references
to being burned alive, filled with arrows, hacked away, and still they
lived on.  Then they stopped and looked towards Sarken, who had made a
sound so soft I barely heard it.
	He spoke slowly, "We don't know much about the Baals.  They are
hard to kill and would live forever otherwise.  They are crueler than we
can describe.  But worse are their servants, the Baal-sent."
	A collective dark murmer came from the other Domaeki, but Sarken
continued without pause, "The hearts of the Baals are so dark that they can
fill corpses with their own blackness.  It does not bring them to life, but
it does bring them back from the dead.
	"Do you know what it is like to come face to face with a man you
saw killed a day ago?  His face is pale and lifeless, but he has a smile
that chills you to the bone.  Have you any idea what it's like to see a
great mass of bodies all dead yet all with hate in their eyes?"
	Sarken stopped, his eyes cool and haunted.  A shudder passed over
several of the Domaeki.
	I turned back to look at the village.
	"Yet you managed to slay a village full of Baals."
	"This?  Hah!  This was just a Baal outpost.  We killed only seven
Baals, the rest were old families and friends, even some travellers who
came too near the Baals and were...
	"Well.  I'm certain you understand."
	Where as before I was warm, now a chill from within had seized me
and would not let go.  I thought of the four I saw killed by the Domaeki. 
My mind touched as one would finger in curiousity yet disgust a body long
dead and decomposing, the replusively attractive memory of the woman's
face.  It was so fair, so beautiful, and yet, so cold, twisted, and dark.

-- 
I would think that I was dead but for the pain...
     ---Rabied Rat's Revenge