I. A Wandering Family
Ifko was born into a family of wanderers. There was Yota, a large hulking fellow whose years had begun to war on him a bit, though he was still formidable. His wife Kesn, as large as Yota was, Kasn was sleek, she was on the petite side which is quite ironic considering the children they would create together. Ifko’s older brothers were twins, Homok and Roko. They were nowhere near as large as Ifko, but they were not small either. They were above average in their height and build, though not a hulking figure like their dad, or indeed Ifko.
It was just the five of them. They got by, but it was a tough life.
Until his tenth year they had not met another soul. They were nomadic, moving through the wild while avoiding contact with people and settling wherever they found a safe place. They kept their distance and always kept moving. It was not an easy life, but they had each other and enough to sustain themselves.
It was only after young Ifko had fallen ill when they decided to approach a small group of settlers from a village called Vorten. They were apprehensive of the armed men at first. Still, Yota saw no alternative. He needed the help of a mystic and they did not have the ability to heal Ifko. Yota approached cautiously while holding Ifko, he fell to his knees and held Ifko up towards the men. They put aside their weapons and led them back to join them in their home village.
II. Vorten
When they arrived it was a small village called Vorten. They were amazed to see fields of food being worked by a dozen men and women. The village surrounded by a wooden wall using the bodies of felled trees. It was not perfect, but it offered substantial safety as no man could jump it, they would have to climb it and make themselves vulnerable, even if just for a second. There were almost two dozen families living there. They had managed to create a farming community, mostly potatoes and carrots, but it was plentiful enough for the families there to grow larger.
Ifko, his brothers and his parents would make a home there. He would have friends. There was fun. And work. And fights. And through it all, they were still happy. Ifko had been a young man of nineteen at the time. He was a dutiful son who woke early to help his father with the morning chores, whether it be hunting or scavenging or scouting, he did so every day from the time he could walk. His father, Yota, was as devoted a father and husband could be. He taught Ifko how to be a man through teaching him how to survive. He watched Ifko grow from a small child into a blossoming young man who was already larger than he was.
Ifko had been the youngest in his family, but the best was certainly saved for last. By the time he was in his teenage years he was twice the size of his older brothers, Homok and Roko. Even though Yota was no small man, he was tall and robust, but at nineteen Ifko surpassed him as well. Ifko was already a gifted tracker and was an okay hunter, but his strength was always second to none. In hand to hand combat is where he flourished, particularly without weapons. Although he was skilled with a weapon, be it a staff, a spear, or an edged weapon he wouldn’t win on skill alone…it was his sheer strength and size that allowed him advantages over any who wished to take him on.
As big and strong as he was, even in his youth, he was a gentle being. It was his mother Kasn who had the biggest impact and influence on him. She taught him to think before he acted, to be calm before angry, to attune himself to his surroundings. She always told him “there is an inevitability in life where one must become what they are meant to be. It is not always up to you who you are and what you do and even if you are not that person today, if you are here tomorrow, you will have another chance to try again.”
They had become part of a community of families who were just normal people. They had clashes with other tribes here and there, but they weren’t seeking to expand territory or subject anyone beneath them. They strong enough to hold their own and their defensive structure allowed them to focus their efforts and overwhelm attackers.
By the time Ifko was sixteen he was one of the most reliable defenders. Seeing someone as large as him on the front line often dissuaded some from wanting to attack, however, on occasion it would draw a target onto him. This led him to honing his fighting ability even when he had no battle. It hurt his mother to see him give himself to war like this. Every day he would disappear, and every day he would return with a new scrape, a deep bruise, a cut under his eye, but nothing ever serious.
III. Search Party
It was on his eighteenth birthday he disappeared for several weeks.
Far longer than he would have normally been away.
Yota had formed a search party as he feared the worst. It was unlike his son to go this long without returning. The party set out looking for any sign of Ifko, but they found nothing at first. It took them the better part of a day to pickup a trail. A footprint in the ground and a large paw behind it. They followed the trail from that point as it was obvious what had occurred to the villagers. They told Yota to assume the worst. The Furclaw had gone after him. To follow the trail to the end would only reveal Yota’s worst nightmare. They urged him to spare himself the pain of seeing his son in pieces, but he would not be turned around.
As the scene became more violent, broke branches, blood splatter, impact marks on the ground, Yota prepared for the worst. When they arrived what they saw the carnage. They couldn’t believe their eyes.
Blood was everywhere.
Ifko’s furs and coverings were shredded, but they did not see Ifko. They searched and went further into the forest. The blood was somehow thicker as they moved until they discovered a skinned and eaten corpse of a large figure, they peered closer…then noticed the Furclaw seated. It was large. It’s fur disheveled. It had patches missing. All they could see was it was breathing. They were unaware if it was waiting to pounce or if it was asleep.
The men backed away in fear and began to run away, but not Yota. He was determined to get revenge for his son. The Furclaw turned, only to be shown that Ifko was wearing its fur, eating its meat and wearing its claws. He was severely wounded.
Yota called out to the men and they returned. They spoke in hushed whispers as Ifko slowly noticed the party. Ifko was wounded badly, he didn’t recognize anyone. He was as far away as one could be in the moment.
A shell of himself.
Primal.
His father slowly approached him then sat beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. It would be a couple months before the Ifko they had known would return. This battle had turned something on in Ifko, something he didn’t know he possessed. He discovered the warrior inside. It only served to strengthen his confidence further. He killed a Furclaw. With his bare hands. “What man could bring him down?” he thought.
He would find out the answer to that question, and he would not like the result.
IV. The Scouting Party
The day would start as normal as one could imagine. Ifko, Yota and Kasn were eating their morning meal and getting ready to go help harvest crops. It was then they heard the screams coming from outside.
They ran outside and saw several men on horses causing carnage. There was a villager dead on the ground, his head separated from his body. Several more villagers were wounded.
An envoy of four horse riders arrived in the village. They were covered in blackened animal hides and coverings. When approached by the town elder they said nothing, they just looked down at him before one severed his head in a thunderous strike from a weapon none had ever seen. It had an edge and cut through bone like it was grass. The other riders spotted several villagers and rode towards them.
They didn’t stop.
Their horses trampled the villagers as the riders roared in vicious laughter. They were enjoying themselves.
Ifko immediately sprung to action and grabbed a sharpened wooden spear and heaved it with a great force at one of the riders. Its aim was true and the rider fell from their horse dead, the spear piercing the throat of the man. His last breaths were a pained one as Ifko retrieved the spear and readied himself.
The other three horsemen turned their attention on the large Ifko. They tried to trample him as they had done the other villagers but they were not completely successful. They did indeed manage to bring Ifko down, that much was true, but in the moments they saw Ifko going under their horses, the reality was that Ifko had brought down two of the horses, using his strength and sheer size he gripped two horses around their necks and plunged them into the ground below head first. This dislodged the riders as flew over their horses surprised by the ability of one to do so. Ifko had taken a blow as the weight of the steeds would hit him heavily, but not knock him out. He was in better shape than the two riders who had fallen unexpectedly. The villagers watched on in awe as Ifko rose to his feet before the others.
The final rider had some distance, he began to ride towards Ifko and the fallen horse riders, but he would change his mind as he watched the hulking Ifko stagger towards the men. He plucked one up with one hand before reaching with his other hand engulfing the mans head inside his palm and with seemingly little effort, twisting his head backwards as a sickening crunch resonated through the air.
The other rider had managed to take his edged weapon out and strike at Ifko wildly. While the rider did cut him pretty deeply, it was only because Ifko had grabbed the blade barehanded, removed it from his attackers hands before using it to impale him. Ifko let go of the blade and grabbed it by the handle, raising his dying opponent into the air with one arm as the man cried out in agony, his blood draining down Ifko’s outstretched arm. The final rider decided taking on Ifko by himself was a fools errand and turned around, galloping away as fast as he could.
The villagers began celebrating.
The worst had come to pass, Ifko had once again vanquished their foes. After that display there would be no one foolish enough to try again. Ifko, despite being wounded had reached that level of primal nature once again. Before they could celebrate the villagers heard the thundering of hooves well before they saw any riders. Yes, Ifko had single handedly just killed three horsemen, that would be a deterrent under most circumstances.
V. The Second Wave
The horses returned.
The villagers looked upon the horizon. First there were only a few horsemen. Then several more. Then even more, just trickling in. The number growing and what was a small party before quickly grew into a large mass of riders. Many times more than before.
Their presence had managed to rally the villagers to set up a hurried defense. Ifko was at the center of the frontline wall that had assembled to meet the riders. They had some small shields and some wooden spears, but they had never been seen men on horseback until that morning. They prepared an adequate defense for who they were, but they were not warriors. They were not hardened like Ifko was. They tried to brace themselves against the riders, but the horsepower overwhelmed them, even Ifko as if they were merely a minor inconvenience. Where Ifko could take two horses down by himself, he was useless against a wall of horses riding at him with full speed and momentum.
Most of those besides Ifko were trampled to death. While they were serviceable fighters in peaceful times, they were no match for the strength and weight of fifty horses trampling over them. It took Ifko a moment to regain his senses after he was run over by the wall of equine strength. He was severely injured but still managed to get to his feet. He found the nearest weapon he could and began pursuit as carnage unfolded all ahead of him. Everyone else who was part of the initial wall was killed in the burst that came through. They had managed to take down a single horse. The initial rider who hit the line. Not a single horse besides that was removed from the throng.
The villagers did their best to put up a valiant effort in their second line of defense. The riders were compelled forth into the wall of men spurred on by how effortless the cut through the first line, this time however Yota had managed to build a deeper wall of humanity to be ready for this surge.
Ifko had to take a moment to pull himself aside in order to regain his bearings. He braced himself on the back end of one of the villagers huts as he watched the clash ensue. It suprsised him at how much death and injuries were inflicted by the villagers. They had gained a burst of confidence as the surge came to a halt and they began to push forward as the riders were repelled backwards.
They had managed to take down several riders in the wave and had only lost a handful of their own. The tactic used by Yota had worked. Ifko watched as the riders rode past him and the villagers began pursuit. Even though they had pushed the riders out, they had gotten to excited in the moment and stretched themselves too thin despite the pleas of Yota to get back into position. They ignored the calls to regroup. While the numbers favored the villagers, the horsemen had reformed. While a number of their riders did indeed lay dead, there were still an overwhelming number when set to purpose in a strategic manner.
The scourge that was the leader of the throng compelled them forward, all as one towards the almost single file line of villagers leading back inside. As had happened with Ifko befell almost every single person there that day. The horde of death trampled over the overmatched farmers and traders. The riders rode roughshod over everyone. The numbers began to dwindle on the villagers side and the number advantage they had was soon imbalanced and realization that Armageddon was upon them. Those that had survived the initial waves, they were ultimately resigned to their fates even as they hoped they might be spared. They were foolish to stop fighting for death would be far kinder than the fate given to those who survived.
Ifko had managed to make his way back to his family, though he was injured he still managed to rally himself for the onslaught that came as he fought with a ferocity as did his father and mother, but they never stood a chance. The riders were too strong, too well equipped, and the villagers had no idea how to handle such a large group at once. Ifko fought as well as one could but even he could only manage to do so much. A blade would find his abdomen, and plunge through his back. His strength would falter, but not until after he surgerd forward and tackled the man who had impaled him, as he gouged out the eyes of the man before crushing his skull into pieces. Ifko would fall, wounded, and when he fell so did the final resistance of the village. His father and mother looked upon one another knowing the fates that were about to befall them…
“My love…” Kasn looked at Yota, and he knew exactly what she was asking without her saying the rest. As tears filled their eyes they embraced one final time, every moment between them lived an eternity in those seconds as Yota plunged his weapon into her stomach and up into her heart. Her breath escaped as they embraced tighter and the world fell apart around them. He had given her a kinder death than would await him. As he was torn away from his beloved who was already gone from this world he saw Ifko lying on the ground, seemingly bleeding out.
The survivors were imprisoned in the largest homestead. The leader of the Throng stood before his group of murderers, rapists, thieves and backstabbers. He was not necessarily large in stature, he was relatively average height and build, had he not been the visage of death itself, he might have been able to pass as an unassuming villager somewhere. The difference was how he carried himself. His movements were almost as if he slithered around rhythmically, anticipating the beats and pulses of the world around him. It was as though he were feeding off the surrounding energy. “We honor those that have fallen before us. Now, let us find if any of these are worthy.”
VII. The Throng and the Dance of Death
The Throng began to pulsate almost rhythmically as one as they all knew what was coming next. The survivors were led one at a time outside of the homestead. The Throng had surrounded the outside and were excitedly awaiting to hear from the Scourge.
He waved for them to calm, almost instantly the pulsating and rhythmic movement of the crowd stopped. He was in complete control of them and they anxiously awaited their next instructions. The control he had over them was frightening to see. The first villager shook in fear as the crowds gaze became fixed upon him. Every member was cloaked in black furs and their faces covered by the bones of different animals.
“Who are we?” he asked already knowing the answer.
“DEATH!” The Throng yelled all at once together.
“What are we?”
“DEATH!”
“What is our judgment?”
“DEATH!”
Death smiled. He looked down at the survivor, “What is your name?”
“Bonna”
“Well, Bonna, the rules are simple. We fight. You win, Death welcomes you. You lose…and your gift is the warm embrace. We will honor your memory as you sustain us with continued life.”
Bonna remained silent.
“Who will be the first? Who will give this one his passage from this life first?”
“I WILL!” A member of the Throng whose face was hidden behind the skull of a dead horned animal steps forward.
“Your weapon?”
He raised his bare hands into the air. The crowd cheered him on.
“The dance of death…will be hands.”
This entire scene had overwhelmed Bonna, he wasn’t ready for what came next.
“Begin!”
Horns ran towards the stunned villager and tackled him to the ground. He began pummeling him in his face with a sadistic glee. He laughed as blood began to fly onto him and others of the Throng nearby. It wasn’t long until all that remained of Bonna’s face was an empty mushed puddle of blood and bone.
The Throng cheered as Horns stood triumphant.
The dead body was left where it fell, not given a second thought.
Another villager was led out.
“Hopefully this one presents more of a challenge…” Death joked as the crowd laughed.
“What is your name?”
“GIOT!”
“Who will give this man what he deserves?”
A smaller member of the Throng stepped forward without saying a word. They carried a small dagger-like blade in both of their hands. Their face was covered by a cloth and their head was encased inside of a skull of a large saber fanged beast that has been fashioned as a helmet of sorts.
“Fangs it is!” Death began laughing.
“Weapon?”
Fangs raised their daggers above their head.
Death smiled.
“OK. Giot! Big, brave, Giot! You fight. You win, the warm embrace of Death welcomes you…You lose, and warm embrace of death welcomes you.”
It took Giot a moment to process it but soon he realized that it wasn’t necessarily a death sentence, it was a contest to weed out weak members and strengthen their numbers.
“Begin.”
Giot looked on as Fangs stalked forward.
“YOU CALL THIS FAIR?! GIVE ME A WEAPON AND I’LL CLEAVE YOUR HEAD OFF YOUR SHOULDERS!!”
Fangs stopped their approach and looked at Death.
“Why not? Let him have his choice.” He laughed.
Giot was given a weapon that equaled his stature, a large stone axe.
“Begin, again.”
Giot charged Fangs and took a mighty cleave at them but missed as Fangs rolled beneath the attack. As Fangs stood up they were greeted by a strong backhand that knocked them onto their back. The villager stood over them as they raised the axe above their head but took too long to prepare his blow and had his knees were cut at the tendons. They collapsed to their knees as fangs rolled out of the way. The villager had relinquished the axe as he screamed in pain.
“If you thought that was painful…” Fangs sliced open his pants and grabbed his genitals before severing them in a single slice. Giot howled in agony as the Throng looked on in horrific amazement and disbelief. Soon Giot was no longer screaming, the loss of blood had caused his system to go into shock and he passed out. His body twitched for a few moments, but it wasn’t long until he was dead.
Fangs screamed, “I WANT ANOTHER!”
“What do you say boys?”
The crowd roared in a bloodlust “YEAHHHHH!”
They released another prisoner into their makeshift arena. The next villager was greeted by Fangs holding the severed genitals of the large villager.
“What is your name?”
“Reus, sir.”
“Well Reussir, Fangs wishes to to welcome you to the warm embrace. Giot was not man enough.” He chuckled.
“Kill Fangs and Death welcomes you, or she will kill you. Give him his weapon.”
Fangs threw a dagger at Reus’ feet. He bent down to pick it up as he grasped it another object hit the ground beside the dagger, as he gazed it took him a moment to understand what it was. As he looked down and saw a disembodied penis and bloody testicles at his feet he collapsed and vomited and began crying.
“P-p-pl—“
But his pleas were cut short as Fangs blade soon found the right side of his mouth with her edge and sliced it open to his ear.
As he screamed she laughed, “Oh come on, give me a big smile!”
She held him up by his hair with her left hand and did the same to the left ear.
“There you are.”
No sense could be made of Reus anymore, it was just pained screams and gargles through blood and spit. She toyed with him, giving him a fate undeserved by any, yet it was his reality as she sliced tendons in his arms and legs one by one leaving him unable to move. When she was finished playing with him she decided to put him out of his misery by kicking his mouth open leaving the top of his head resting against the back of his neck.
The crowd had fallen silent.
Somehow…he wasn’t dead yet…
They had all done their share of twisted and violent things, but they had never seen anything like it before. It was a sick fascination they looked on as they could hear some…sound escaping the throat of the man, but still very alive and unable to move. Gurgling gasps filled the air as the crowd began to laugh and cheer, “FANGS! FANGS! FANGS! FANGS!” as she walked away, her work done.
Fangs walked by Death.
“He’s still breathing.”
“So he is.”
Death watched her as she walked into the crowd and disappeared among the men. He smirked, he had never seen this side of her before and it impressed him. She would be his right hand from this day forward.
“I don’t think we can top that one, now can we boys? But we’ll sure try!” Death laughed, “How many are left?”
A member of the Throng at the entrance to the home stepped forward. “There are five remaining!”
“Five? Hmmmm…they don’t seem very worthy do they?”
“NOOOO!” The bloodthirsty crowd cheered.
“Very well, let us finish this. Who wishes to join me?” He turns to the crowd and is greeted with cheers as he waits for one to step forward.
“My lord, Death, I would be honored to split skulls with you.” A large Beast of a brutish man stepped forward. He towered over Death, even casting a shadow onto him. Death looked up and smiled, “Very well, join me my Beast.”
“Who else wishes to spill blood beside us? Let us have one more! Join us.”
A bald warrior whose entire head was covered in blood stepped forward.
“It would please me to taste blood with you lord Death.”
“Then it shall be so.”
They stood side by side and turned as they awaited their intended victims about to be released to them.
VIII. The Last of Vorten
Ifko was seated beside his brother Homok on the ground as he put pressure on his own wound. Homok was broken as he had already lost Roko in the second charge by the Throng. It was as if he was no longer himself. A piece of him was missing, something that no one else could possibly ever understand. Yota had gathered the survivors together. He looked on at each one.
“We must face the truth.” He looked around the circle of men and women.
There weren’t many left, but they were still together. All that remained were five others besides Yota, Ifko and Homok. Giot, a large man who would be the biggest and strongest were it not for Ifko. There was Bonna, a sleek and timid man who had lost his wife in the raid and all will to live. Reus, a relatively young man, very polite and one of the most generous of the villagers of Vorten. Then there were Vollo and Tollo.
A pair of brothers who were amongst the better warriors of the village, though they were both wounded, Vollo had a cut on his thigh causing him to limp severely, though it was not life threatening, at least not in the immediate moments to come, were he to live beyond this day, perhaps then it could threaten his life, but for all purposes it would not be what would kill him on this day. His brother Tollo lost an eye in the melee, he was in the second line of defense that was crushed on the second wave of the Throng, the blow would knock him unconscious though he was somewhat alert in the moment now.
They were a ragged bunch. There were no women amongst them as those that were alive were taken to a different homestead so the men could have their fun outside of the bloodsports.
“We face our end. We shall not see tomorrow…”
“I…I do not wish to die…” Giot cried.
“We will not die on our knees Giot. We will stand tall and face whatever comes at us on the other side of that door.” As soon as Yota finished speaking the door opened and several members of the Throng grabbed Bonna and dragged him out as he screamed for the others to help him.
They did try, As the villagers tried to push towards the Throng they were met with weapons at their throats which pushed them back as they knew they would have a few precious moments of breathing, even at the end of the world it was easy to do nothing as Bonna was taken.
Giot and Yota tried to lead the push but were unsuccessful.
”We are not who we need to be.” Giot stated solemnly.
”We are exactly who we are meant to be old friend.” Yota replied trying to offer whatever comfort he could, but it was not for much.
”Kono…”
”Brother, it’ll be okay…” Ifko managed to get out has he struggled to push himself up. Yota rushed to his side to help steady him.
”How can you say that?!” Homok looked at Ifko through tear filled eyes.
”He was my brother too. We must honor his memory…and live for him…”
”What lives do we have left?!” Reus pleaded.
”I know not how much life you have left, but I will not die this day.” Ifko asserted.
Vollo and Tollo cheered on Ifko’s words, “YEAHHHH!”
The enthusiasm filled Giot with hope and pride.
”We fight!”
Homok looked on filled with emptiness. He sensed he was hearing the empty boasts of dead men as he looked on at the broken neighbors and friends and soon to be ghosts of Vorten.
It was then the doors opened again and the Throng came to grab their next bit of entertainment. Giot pushed himself forward and stood firmly before the remaining survivors.
“I will be next.”
He turned back at Yota and the others and smiled then turned his attention towards the outside. He stomped forward as he let the speech of Ifko fill him with the courage he needed. As he exited the doors were shut and the remaining survivors rushed to the door to hear what they could, hopeful that Giot would give them something, anything to push back the reality of their looming deaths.
It was hard to hear anything as the bloodthirsty guards nearly overpowered the scene that was unfolding. Yota, Ifko and Reus stood with their ears pressed to the door and tried to make it out as best they could. It was then they managed to piece together enough of Death’s speech that they realized what they were faced with at the same time Giot did. Even through the guards jeers at Giot, Yota heard Death clearly. “You win…and Death welcomes you. You lose…and death, welcomes you.”
“What does he mean Yota? We have no hope. Even if we win, we die.”
“That’s not what he’s saying.” Yota tried to assure him but Reus was not hearing it. He had retreated inside himself and come to accept that he was soon about to die. It was as if accepting that fact allowed him to be calm. He felt he could accept whatever he would face if his conviction was strong enough. Perhaps it would be quick he thought.
“My sons…I know your hearts are hurting…” Yota looked at Ifko, who although severely injured was still steadfast in his resolve to not give up hope, Homok was where his attention was needed.
“Everyone has suffered loss Homok…I know you miss your…”
“He was not my brother. We were two of the same. You could not understand father…”
“HOW COULD I NOT UNDERSTAND!?” Yota grabbed Homok and tackled him to the ground. He had done everything he could to maintain his composure but it enraged him, he could not hold back as he slapped Homok who just took it. However, once the blow was struck it seemed to awaken him as his eyes focused on Yota as he punched him in the jaw. Yota stumbled back as Homok stood tall and began to approach Yota but was interrupted by Ifko.
“Father, brother…save your strength…we will need it when we face…
At that moment the door swung open and Reus who was standing closest to the door was grabbed by a guard and pulled out of the room.
The remaining survivors hadn’t even noticed he was taken.
“Ifko speaks true. Waste not on each other.” Vollo assured Yota.
“I would prefer it if I would not have to watch my back out there, it would difficult.” Tollo offered.
At that moment Yota, Homok, Ifko and Vollo all began to laugh at the statement.
“Oh brother! I can always count on you to bring me cheer even at the end of the world.” Vollo boasted as he limped over and gave Tollo a hug.
Tollo began laughing too, for a moment the remaining survivors of Vorten were able to forget about everything, even if for a second, and it made them all feel lighter.
It was not much longer before the door would swing open for the final time.
“All of you, out. Lord Death wishes an actual test.”
IX. The Test
Yota led the way. Behind him were Ifko and Homok then Tollo who was helping Vollo to make his way out. They exited from the homestead and the visage that greeted them was an angry crowd salivating at the thought of more death. They could taste it.
Soon they saw what befell the others. They saw Bonna’s unrecognizable body undisturbed. They looked over and saw Giot lying in a pool of blood beneath his severed crotch and his intestines in his hands. Then they saw Reus and could hear his gurgled breathing, still alive but suffering needlessly.
Yota and Ifko tried to go to Reus but they were forced back by the crowd who surrounded him. They took a sick delight in watching Reus’ suffering and it was almost as if they wanted to see how long it would take. Death laughed.
“Men, you have been bestowed a great honor. Today, I, Death, welcome you.” He raised his weapon and signaled for the survivors to be given theirs.
“We will honor your memory.”
Ifko picked up the very same axe that Giot had previously wielded. Homok grabbed a dagger. Vollo and Tollo grabbed each a bone spear. Yota would grab the last remaining weapon, a simple club.
The fight began with Tollo and Vollo using their spears to keep the others at distance. While they jabbed at Death, Beast and Bloodhead, Ifko and Yota each took a side and tried to parry away any outside attacks. Homok stood just behind Vollo and Tollo realizing that he had the shortest weapon and he would have to use what guile he could to strike at any enemy that broke the line.
The crowd cheered on anytime a member of the Throng tried to attach, and would hiss when the survivors would mount any offense. It was a stalemate for longer than was expected. Despite his boasts about the survivors being unworthy of receiving the Test, Death was being proven wrong. There was several tense moments as Death had not expected such a challenge from those remaining.
One close call was when a spear thrust by Vollo had managed to scratch his cheek, though it didn’t draw blood. Had Vollo’s leg not been injured Death may have been welcomed, but it was not meant to be. Although it was close, it was also the turning point as Vollo had put everything into that strike and had overpursued and was unable to get back with Tollo in time.
Beast had landed a killing blow on Vollo. A single strike and he was cleaved in two. Tollo in the heat of the battle had given up the formation and given in to his desire for revenge as he thrust his spear through the shoulder of Beast. The blow had managed to make him drop his weapon, although it was only a temporary distraction.
Beast grabbed the spear with one hand and with his other broke it in half. Tollo was unable to react as Beast had swiftly removed the spear from his shoulder and plunged it into Tollo’s remaining eye. As Tollo screamed in agony, Beast pushed it further and further into his head until Tollo stopped making any noise and the spear pierced the back of his head. Beast raised the impaled head of Tollo and its limp body to the cheers of the Throng.
Ifko had become enraged at seeing this. While Homok and Yota faced off with Death as Beast boasted to the crowd, Ifko and Bloodhead exchanged blows. Ifko was losing strength with each attack as the weapon, normally no concern to him, was requiring every bit of effort to wield. Under normal circumstances Bloodhead would be no match for the hulking Ifko, but these circumstances were not normal. Ifko had resorted to using the axe to deflect the blows, knowing that he would only have one or two more chances before he could no longer fight. He did not wish to distract Yota and Homok either, knowing that they would surely die if they had to save him.
Bloodhead had managed to stab Ifko several times. The crowd cheered him on as he relished in drawing blood. He licked the blade and taunted Ifko, “You are a delicious one.”
Ifko still continued to deflect the blows, and though Bloodhead was getting the better of him, he could take it, he would sacrifice himself to make it two against two. Bloodhead would manage to stab Ifko in the side, all of Ifko’s strength disappeared as his weapon fell beside him and his grip loosened. It was still within his fingers, but his weight was being held up by Bloodhead.
He whispered into Ifko’s ear “I’ll eat your balls first.”
“Heh.” Ifko laughed.
“He finds it funny!” Bloodhead, turned while still holding Ifko up and boasted to the crowd.
“Shall I…”
Ifko stood firm, towering over Bloodhead and kicked him in the chest with his enormous foot. Bloodhead fell backwards as he tried to crawl away as he saw the brute raise the axe over his head and come down into his face splitting his skull in two. Bloodhead was no longer a threat.
Ifko had rolled over and begun laughing.
The battle stopped for a moment as the Throng who had been cheering on Bloodhead had fallen silent. The boasting of Beast stopped as he dropped Tollo to the ground and picked up his weapon once more. Death had been fending off both Yota and Homok but even their attack stopped. Ifko had killed one of the Throng. They could not recall the last time one of their members died in the Test. Beast made his way to Ifko whose laughter had begun to fade.
Beast looked down as Ifko’s last breath seemingly escaped him. Ifko had collapsed on the ground. The mightiest of Vorten had fallen. Homok and Yota shared a look at one another, acknowledging their plight and accepting their fates they charged their foes together knowing at least they would die together.
X. From the Ashes
Why Ifko would awaken and see another day always puzzled him.
He thought he was dead. He felt it. He knew it.
His life fled from his body, or at least he believed it to be, but he was always stronger than your average person. He was grievously injured, and he could not explain as to why he wasn’t finished off by the Throng for certain. He awoke seated atop the member of the Throng he had killed leaning forward with his arms crossed in front of him being held up by a large club. He was surrounded by a pool of blood and adorned with trinkets of twisted glory, much like G’an’n would many years later. He was wearing a crown of bone he staggered to his feet and it was at that moment where Ifko finally saw the decimated remains of Vorten which caused him to fall back to his knees. Every breath was difficult. He was unable to maintain standing on his own, his wounds had taken much out of him, though he was still alive. He found a broken club which he used to push himself up to his knees, it was then he was able to finally comprehend the destruction left behind.
Vorten was gone.
No people.
No livestock or animals.
No homes.
No food.
Everything was decimated and left to rot where they lay. He couldn’t find Homok’s body among the remaining but so many were left unrecognizable, but he did
Nothing remained…nothing breathed life except Ifko.
He would wander for days before he would finally collapse. He had gone as far as he could go, he couldn’t go another step. It was lucky or perhaps fate that he was found by passing travelers who would provide him with the aid he needed to heal, and he would begin traveling with them. He would provide them with security on their travels in repayment for their help until he reached the Bone Herd. There he saw a people who reminded him of his old home, he approached Badan and told him his story, how he had come to be who he was, and how he arrived here. He told him of the Throng and what had happened, and they had promised to remain quiet about it until the time came.
XI. By the Fire
“I hadn’t been much older than Yavin is now when I faced the deadliest people I’ve ever crossed…I barely escaped with my life. I am thankful time has afforded me distance and years away from them. I should hope we never cross their path…but I’ll never forget when I came face to face with them on that day…we called them the Throng. They arrive first with a small scouting party, then they come…” Ifko looked around the faces of the Fire, “…and they don’t stop coming. An endless clash of man and bone…until they are all that is left standing.”
As strong as Ifko was it always seemed his true strength was his ability to feel the world around him. He sensed the energy it put out and it led him to make his choices. It wasn’t an ability he had honed very much in his younger days, he did sense it then, though he relied on his physical gifts morese, it would become crucial to him in his later years after he met Badan and joined the Bone Herd.
When he lost the ability to walk on his own, he gained something else. He practiced tuning his senses, feeling the energy in the world around him again. While he disappeared from public life for the most part and remained hidden in his home, he had become the right hand of Elora. They spent many nights together talking dreams and worlds beyond. She rarely ventured out of the Hall of Mammoths during the day, and at night she would spend most of her time with Ifko. When she heard Ifko speaking she couldn’t help but make her way to The Fire.
“Now you know my story. Why I never told you where I came from.” Ifko looks reflective and sad, “why I couldn’t tell you.”
Cora, while still crying had managed to gather herself enough. “I know of these people as well. They are the ones who did this to me.” She reveals her wound, the missing ear before quickly covering it again. “They killed everyone. I had come out first to see if it was clear, but there was one who was still looking over what they did. He saw me and I saw him.”
Cora begins crying harder but continued telling her story, “I ran…”
“He chased me…he caught me…”
She takes her time, the memory still haunting her as though it had happened just yesterday, but still she continued “He smelled me and smiled. He…told me…to tell their story to anyone I see. To let them know death is coming.”
Badan listened closely as did the other members of the Bone Herd. He knew the threat was always possible, but he had hoped they would not have found their frozen peninsula where they had come to make their home. He chose the location not just for the resources nearby, but there was only one way in, at the same time it placed their backs against a wall. Somewhere out there on the Maea Peninsula, the threat loomed. Their peaceful times were now at an end.
“You knew about this threat Badan?”
“From Ifko, I did.”
“And you never told anyone?!” Gova turns toward Badan angrily before meeting a glare that halted his motion. He instead turned his attention to Cora, “You foolish girl! You’ve been with us how long?”
The sentiment of the crowd seemed to be swaying towards dissension as Gova had managed to move his friend Gufen enough to express his easily tuned anger towards Cora as well. “You stupid girl! You risked our safety!? For what?” He stared upon her then Badan as the color of his face, even his balding head began to redden, and in the cold it was rather noticeable in contrast to his dark beard. Steam was actually rising from his head that’s how hot he was with anger.
Cora began to cry as Yavin tried to console her, he shot an angry look towards Gufen and Gova.
“That’s enough Gova!” Truset interjected herself before him before he could rouse anymore turmoil among the crowd. “Trauma has a way of shutting one down. We all know it’s true. We all have our own trauma’s in our life. Something that led us this way to where we are now. She shared it when it mattered most.”
“My wife is right as are you Gova.”
“Ever the peacekeeper.” Gova shot back. “We have no time for peace, we must make ready for war!” Gufen pushed as his somewhat younger cousin Kverj patted him on the shoulder. Kverj was a bit slighter build than his cousin and whereas Gufen had dark hair, Kverj had light blond hair, almost platinum looking but with a shimmer of yellow that shined through. He did not have a beard, but rather light patches of hair on his face which presented a strong jaw line. He often was at Gufen’s side and although he was patting him on the shoulder and seemingly encouraging his behavior, he was actually restraining his cousin by placing firm grip on his shoulder to stabilize him from doing anything…rashly decided. Kverj knew what life was like out there, he had not been as short-sighted as his brother and didn’t live in the moment, he remembered life and lived with one foot in the past where suffering was constant and the present where they are afforded comforts they had rarely known before.
“We need peace among ourselves. We cannot squabble and fight one another. Not right now.”
“And what do you suggest we do?” Bimm shouted from behind the crowd. Bimm was an older member of the Bone Herd, he had straight white hair and he was bald on top, he bared the scars of his trade which was that of a weapon craftsman. He was standing beside his friend and fellow weapon craftsman Vadkn, whose voice would bellow out to back up Bimm, emphasizing the same thing over once more, “Yeah! What do you suggest we do?!” As boisterous as he was in voice he was not in his build as he was a bit on the short and stocky side. The only person whose voice rivaled his would be Gunthry, but even he knew not to get into a shouting contest with Vadkn, not unless he wanted to leave with a headache.
Badan again tried to calm the nerves of the crowd.
“We lock the entrance and keep our eyes open. Anyone going out has to be in a party of four or more. No venturing out too far. Always carry Fire when you go out. No night excursions. We will take stock of our food and determine if we should begin rationing food as well. No telling what the days ahead will be like. We have to be prepared for anything.”
As Badan informed the tribe of what, Truset was silently making plans of her own. Even though the women were no allowed to be warriors, she walked beside Drea and Dreanna and spoke in a hushed manner in order to not be heard by the men surrounding them.
“Tomorrow. Gather the women, have them meet in my hut after Badan leaves. We prepare ourselves.”
“ARE WE IN AGREEMENT THEN?” Badan inquires to the crowd.
They murmur for a bit then ultimately agree, some shouting “Yes” others nodding their heads accordingly. Gova walks away angrily, returning to his home.
“I’ll take first watch. Any volunteers to join me tonight?”
“I will, father.” Yavin said with determination in his voice.
“As will I. I’ll post up on top of the Hall of Mammoths to keep an eye on the horizon.” Li stated. With that Li ran to the Hall’s walls and began effortlessly climbing , posting himself atop the highest part he could. He waved back down to Badan who was slightly in awe of the display of speed and dexterity he just witnessed.
“I can keep watch of the side entrance if there’s anyone who wishes to join me?” Ifko offered. “My friend, it would be an honor.” Dhiig walked up before him placing his hand on his shoulder. Ifko smiled then he and Dhiig made their way to the side entrance which was currently closed.
“Farin, Vivae, Eeud, you’ll take second watch. Farin and Eeud on the front, Vivae you get the side. The rest of you we’ll discuss plans tomorrow. As for now, go home, get some rest. We’re gonna need it.”
The crowd dispersed then, the mild disorder having been quelled by Badan’s steadfast approach. He and Yavin stood next to one another as they watched the rest of the Bone Herd slowly trickle into their huts. Drea and Gunthry met with one another and walked with each other arm and arm. Dreanna remained back also watching the people walk home.
Cora urged Baku and Poli to return home and she would be right behind them. Before doing so she walked beside Yavin, stopping as she reached his side standing shoulder to shoulder with him, “If you get the chance…kill them…” before continuing on her way.
“Let’s go son.” Badan patted Yavin on his back as they made their way to their posts for their watch. Dreanna would grab a spear and place it by the entrance of her home hut. She knew she couldn’t enter with it so she placed it under some nearby wood before returning inside. Gova stood with Gufen outside of his hut as they watched the crowd disperse.
“Badan doesn’t know what he’s doin’” Gufen scoffs.
“Everyone does what they must, so will we.” Gova offers before going inside his hut.
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