A Barbarian's Past

[Mag'etherian]

Part 1: The Village

A massive dark figure - A Great Lord of a brute barbaric tribe - covered by the shadows of the night, stood watch overlooking a small village.

"Where is he?!" the man spoke in a stern voice.
"My Lord! My Lord!" a voice said in return.

Looking beyond the tree-line the group was behind, a shadowed figure was approaching in a fast motion.

"Is that you scout?" the Great Lord spoke out while ready to unsheathe his blade.
"Aye My Lord." the scout returned, running short of breath.

Coming to a slower pace, the scout was breathing heavily in attempts to catch his breath so he may speak. Now standing within a few footsteps of his master.

"What news do you bring of this village?" the leader asked.

The scout returned with - "Not many people in the village. I overheared some of them talking about a goup that had left for hunting a day ago to gather food supplies. I saw mostly women and children My Lord."

One of the men then spoke out - "What will you have us do then, My Lord?"

He clasped his hands in a quiet, but powerful, show of anticipation, his words slipping to nothing more then mere whisper - "Weak... Out-matched... Pathetic..."

"My Lord, Sir?" said one of the men.
"Kill them all! Burn the village to the ground!" their leader spoke out loud enough for his men to hear.
"But My Lord, the women and children!" one man replied.

The Great Lord unsheathed his sword, plunging it deep within the man's chest for questioning him.

"I said kill them all! Do not question my orders or you'll meet the same fate he did. Now go!"

In fear of sharing the same fate, the brute barbarian tribe began to charge toward the village. In the village, everyone could hear the bloodthirsty screams of the forces rapidly approaching.

"The Western forest!" yelled out a man standing in a tower. "We're under attack! Sound the bells!" he continued as the bells began to be rung. The women were screaming in terror and children began crying in fear. The men of the village began to give orders for the women to gather the children and hide themselves in the townhall, as they prepared for battle. The opposing forces now within the city gates, began to charge viciously through the streets, as swords and battle axes clanged together, battlecry's mixed between forces. The streets began to fill with blood and buildings began to be set afire as the battle waged on. The village forces began to dwindle in numbers as they were cut down by the brute force laying seige upon their town. Out-numbered and un-prepared for the swift battle that befallen them, the guardsmen were firing arrows down upon their enemies, while axes begin tossed toward them, dropping most dead to the ground. Flames began to engulf the village more rapidly as more buildings were set to flame. This brute tribe was too strong for the villagers to fight against. While being barbarian in nature themselves, they were not as experienced in battle, or share the bloodthirst of their enemy, which gave them even more strength.

The battle had went on for a little while longer, the exchange of screams between the two groups began to fade as the enemy forces dominated the field. It now came to one last man that remained standing after all his companions were annhialated. Suddenly the Great Lord yelled out to leave this one alone, demanding to have him for himself. So there he stood, covered in both blood of his enemies, along with his friends that had died fighting side by side, till their last breath for their wives, children and friends. Breathing heavily to regain his strength, he stood there, staring at the Great Lord in deep anger, the only thing noticeable about his face was the wide white eyes that lay glaring at his enemy. Blood running down the rest of it.

"Tell me brave one.. before you share the fate of this worthless village. What is the name of the filthy dog which stands before me, and managed to last this long against my forces?" The Great Lord asked following with sinister laughter.

Growling in great anger while squeezing tightly onto his weapon, his muscular body, tight as could be he replied with - "You are the one that will fall dark one, and I shall give you my name so that you will know who it was that defeated such a cowardly fool such as yourself" he then yelled out "I am Fang-Qui Droma!" as he began charging in furious anger.

The leader just stood there in full confidence as Fang-Qui set charge. The first exchange of clattered blades sounded. Followed by a second, to a third. The two stood in battle for some time, Fang-Qui merely being toyed with by his enemy. A short grunt of pain was made as Fang-Qui was struck in the leg by the leader of the other Barbarian Tribe, followed by a slash to his blade arm. Two wounds that were only meant to cause frustration, and not deeply injure. The battle had continued and left more light wounds upon Fang-Qui, his anger and hatred only grew more. His enemy was merely wearing him down, so that he would know true defeat and recieve his own satisfaction out of it. Struggling for the energy to continue, all he could think about was his wife and child. That was the only strength left he had in his body to keep him alive, but it was growing thin as his arm began hard to lift. Growing tired and impatient, the barbarian leader kicked Fang-Qui back. Stumbling about, Fang-Qui fell to one knee, too tired to carry on anymore. His head facing the ground as he begged to the gods for enough energy to fight on, and struggled to catch his breath even more. Slowly approaching him with a wicked grin upon his face, he reached forward, grabbing hold of the weakened barbarian. Pulling a dagger hidden within his vest, he then pressed it upon Fang's face, below the right eye and began carving all the way down just beyond his cheek. Concealing his dagger he took his sword, and in a swift motion, struck it through Fang's lower ribs, knocking him to the ground, as Fang-Qui falls unconcious.

Now turning to his men he speaks - "Alright men, set aflame any building that remains untouched. We move on."


To be continued...