From alt.pub.dragons-inn Tue Mar 15 23:16:33 1994
Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:7121
Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!pacbell.com!ihnp4.ucsd.edu!agate!usenet.ins.cwru.edu!po.CWRU.Edu!rev2
From: rev2@po.CWRU.Edu (Robert E. Vogel)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: REPOST: [Azend/Zjiria] An Encounter
Date: 15 Mar 1994 03:00:57 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Lines: 136
Message-ID: <2m38d9$t0j@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>
References: <2m34or$mr6@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>
Reply-To: rev2@po.CWRU.Edu (Robert E. Vogel)
NNTP-Posting-Host: owl.ins.cwru.edu


ADMIN:	The following a reposting of a story a while back.  This thread
runs parallel to the [Zjiria/Azend] thread.  Azend, the races used in this
thread, and this story are copyrighted by Robert Vogel, 1993.

***

>	I have been many places and seen many things, and that sound was
all too clear in my memory.
>	Fighting.  Men, and maybe even women, taking up arms against each
other, willing to shed the blood of another.

	What lust is it in a person to be curious of bloodshed?  Does a man
have a violent urge in himself to see others die, to see his potential
competition lost and only he remains?  Does a woman enjoy the thought of
blood lost for her sake, two bull animals at each other's throat, her
tongue lapping the blood around her own lips?  So often has it been so
between two sides for something they want.
	With that philosophical chastisement in mind, I headed off to see
what all the carnage was about.
	I was so correct about by evaluation.  Carnage it was.
	Around a bend in the stream and sloping down was a collection of
houses.  Men on horseback wielded swords against the people on the ground,
but the people on the ground fought back with a fierce will.  Several of 
the houses were burning, many more bodies lay on the ground, both horsemen
and horse and defender.
	It was too far for me to do anything but watch.  From my
safe viewpoint, I saw the chaos clearly.  Two score, maybe more horsemen,
and far less defenders now.  Even as I made my hasty approximation, I 
saw that the last defenders were surrounded.
	It was a handsome young man, an beautiful older woman, and
two adorable small children.  Yet even as I gazed at this ironic scene of
perfection, I noted how it could be that children would survive in this 
battle.  Then I noticed the look in their faces, the twisted snarl and blood
not their own.  The woman was haughty, powerful, and cruel, her eyes dark
and her hands tightly clenching, that I could even see at my distance,
a sword with a serrated edge.
	I did not get a good look at the man, for at that moment he leapt
full onto the spear of a horseman, running his body through to get near
him.  As I watched in fascination, he continued moving, his hands raising
twin long daggers to plunge them deep into the horseman's skull.  Then several
arrows landed into his skull and marred his sweet face.
	At the fall of the man, the woman screamed out in rage and
bloodlust.  The two children echoed her screams.  Several more arrows flew
into their bodies, but only one of the children was dropped.  The woman 
and the remaining child attacked.  I heard the dull butcher sounds as 
they were killed, but screams of pain came from one of the horsemen.  I 
did not see the bodies fall.
	The horsemen began to ransack the bodies, even the bodies of their
fallen comrades.  Some began to build a fire and feed it with the buildings
and the bodies.
	I should have left, but I observed them for a bit longer.  The
horsemen were so much unlike the horsemen.  The horsemen were rugged,
rough, their clothing dull and lifeless, the defenders bright and powerful.  
The defenders' clothing
was much like the clothing I have so been used to seeing, yet...it seemed
dark in style.  I saw no horsewomen and the horsemen looked unlike the
defenders; I could draw no conclusions.  The horsemen were paler than I, 
but much darker than the very pale skin of the defenders.  Their hair was
black or dark brown, but the defenders had light brown hair.
	I stood noting the angular features of the horsemen compared to the
round, smooth features of the defenders when a cry came up; I had been
spotted.  Immediately one of the horsemen gestured for several others to
continue the burning while the rest rode towards me.  My feet became more
planted in the ground, not out of fear, but that I knew running would do
no good.
	Seeing that I was waiting for them, they came calmly at a trot. 
When the first one drew near me, he veered his horse to my left and the
rest followed.  In a well practiced maneuver, they surrounded me in a
circle in moments, their swords bare, spears ready, and an arrow notched in
bow not pulled.
	"Well and skillfully done indeed.  You have one lone and weaponless
traveller quite surrounded and mayhaps, yet mayhaps, I shall not be so
eager to hurtle myself against you."
	I said it with a rye tongue, and to my slight surprise, a few short
guffaws and some smiles came of it.
	The first one, who had a white shash with several decorations to
mark him as above the rest, pointed at me levelly with his sword.
	"A traveller you claim, but how do we know that you are not lying?"
	"I doubt you will find very many bare-chested natives in these
parts."
	That got a few more laughs and a smile out of the leader, but he
continued, "You could be a clever lure of the Baals."
	"Whatever these Baals be, would they be foolish to lure you with
such as I?  I find myself highly conspicuous, though I could be wrong."
	Another smile, then, "Very well, you may not be of Baal, but how do
we know that you aren't dangerous?"
	My hands behind my back, I carefully surveyed the nest of weapons
surrounding me, turning in a complete circle.  Returning to the leader, I
slowly replied, "I am scant for ideas.  Why not you enlighten me?"
	To bring the point home, I tapped the tip of his sword and looked
curiously at the spot of blood that appeared on my finger.  It was
surprisingly sharp a blade.
	"So, traveller," the leader said, leaning back on his horse and
lowering his weapon, "how did you get here?"
	"My fate be so cursed, not that I am condemning this land I now
stand in, but that I was myself condemned in serious tones and here brought
by ways of the wind more than mortal feet."
	The horsemen jeered and laughed at this.  The leader smiled, and
said to his men, "What have we here?  This one is not just a fool or a
brightly colored fool, but a brightly colored fool with a way with words!"
	The horsemen cheered their leader for this and laughed more.
	A smile that did not reassure me on his lips, he leaned towards me
and spoke, "Well, we have nothing against travelling fools.  In fact, you
are quite free to go about your way.  But first!...we request that you
hand over your possessions..."
	"Indeed, I would be more than happy to hand over my
possessions, yet I have nothing but what I wear, and surely that cannot be
of worth notice to you."
	"Really?  And how do we know that you have nothing in your cloth
around your head?  Or under your feet and in your shoes?  Or perhaps...you
have some very special treasure hidden in those pants of yours..."
	The last brought fresh laughter from the horsemen and annoyed me
greatly.  But without hesitation, I removed my turban, flapped it before
them to show them that it was empty, then with a practiced hand, replaced
it.  My soft shoes I removed, one at a time, turning each inside out and
back again before putting it back one.
	They cheered at me to remove my pants, but I faced them squarely
and said levelly, "As for my pants, I have nothing there to hide from you."
	They broke out again in laughter, and with a smile on the leader's
face, he gestured towards another.
	"That might as well be, but I think I will have Havian check for
us."
	I am a fairly large man, but Havian was a great bruiser in size. 
He stood about a hand taller than I and weighed more I guessed.  I had a
layer of fat, but of him I saw nothing.
	With a grunt, Havian hopped down from his horse and removed a long
dagger.  The horsemen drew their horses back to watch the show.

***
ADMIN: Once again, comments, questions, and flames respected.


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