Mercy Among the Merciless

[random44]

Come, good homins. Take in the words and wisdom of this tale.



*splof* *splof*

The unmistakable sound of a foragers pick echoed through the darkeness. In the dank environment of the underground cavern, nothing stirred except the harvester's arm and the pick it held, elegantly moving the damp soil aside in an anxious search for raw materials. The homin was barely visible in his black and green armor; only his face was illuminated by the soft glow of a nearby flourescent plant. By observing his face, one could easily deduct that he was a Tryker of middle age. Though he was hunched over, focused on his work, he looked as if he would be tall amongst his people. From time to time he raised his head sharply, peering carefullly from side to side. However, nothing moved. There was no sound, save for the endless cackling of Jublas from a nearby forest as they sipped up the delicous sap from the soil. To the side of the harvester was a small channel of pure green sap, probably runoff from the recent sap storm. Suddenly, the Tryker let out a joyful "Ha!" as he pulled something up from the wet soil of the Prime Roots. It was a piece of amber, flawless, and of considerable beauty. It's smooth edges and warm color were easy to admire. The Tryker's blue eyes gleamed with delight as he examined the piece, carefully brushing some mud from it with his finger. "Excellent!" he exclaimed. "Just perfect for a pendant. She'll love it."

The homin was so caught up in the beauty of this amber that he forgot to make his regular feverant check of his surroundings. As he moved to put the amber into his bag, he froze, stunned with fear. He felt warm, wet breath on his back. The nearby sap puddle rendered the reflection of a monstrous beast standing behind him--A Kirosta, the brutally fearless soldier of the Kitin. Without thinking twice, the homin ran, abruptly discarding both his pick and the beautiful amber piece. Letting out a disgusted snort, the Kirosta pursued the terrified Tryker. Its huge legs pierced the soft soil as the Kitin rumbled over it with considerable speed. Frantically but hopelessly, the harvester tried to outrun the beast, running through the vegetation and cutting himself often. In his shocked state, he let out a shrill cry of terror. That bloodcurdling cry echoed through the caverns, but nobody heard it. At last, the homin slammed up against the hard wall of the Roots, and sank to his knees in despair. He slowly turned around, glimpsing the powerful creature behind him through blurry eyes. The soft lights of the Roots illuminated it's smooth, green, scale-like armor. With it's mandibles raised and powerful sting poised to strike, the Kitin let out a roar of victory.

At this, the homin began to cry. He held out his bloody hands and washed them with his tears. The hands that had held that pick for so many years, and the hands that possesed the skill of numerous crafts. The Tryker looked up at the Kitin. One could observe a massive height difference between the two. The powerful Kitin, gleaming green and white, and the weak homin, with his green and black and now partly red armor. In these moments there was a terrible stillness as the Kitin held his weapon ready, and the homin ready to receive its blow. It never came. The Kirosta's sting lowered, its beady eyes softened. At that, it walked away, snorting as it went. The Tryker stood there for some minutes, stunned--unable to move. Another Kitin snort awoke him from his trance. With regained alertness, the homin looked around, side to side. He caught a glimpse of a ominous figure, just as it dissapeared into the darkness. Something had observed that episode between him and the Kirosta.

However, this soon left his mind. At the time he focused on one thing--"I must have that amber!" he said to himself. So, he retraced his steps back to where he had dropped the gem and fled in terror. "There!" he shouted, as he saw the amber lying on the soil. (Prime Root foragers make a habit of talking to themselves, to keep them sane.) He bent over to pick it up and put it in his bag. After depositing the amber piece in his bag, he withdrew a teleporter pact for the nearest city. As he spoke the words needed to put the Karavan technology into action, an odd sound lofted over from the Jubla forest. This was definitely not that of a Jubla. He canceled his teleport action. Moving swiftly, he ran towards the Jublas. At the opposite edge of the forest, he observed something he thought he would never see. A Kirosta was battling with several Kinchers! This was not just any Kirosta. The Tryker recognized him quickly--This was the Kitin that had spared his life just a short time ago! The Kirosta's great sting swung against one of the littler Kinchers, lifting it off the ground and propelling it through the air. It crashed against a nearby Jubla, swaying the enormous plant to a 45 degree tilt. The Homin continued to watch in horror has the Kirosta's razor sharp mandible hacked the forelegs off a Kincher. The great green Kitin thrust his other mandible into the center of the vile beast, its point sharp as a Zo'Pukatoo pike. The evil Kincher let out an ear piercing cry, similar to that of a Kipucka, as it fell to the ground pincers first. At that, the final Kincher swung from behind the Kirotsa, its crushing arm smashing into the head of the Kitin. The power of that blow toppled the him, and balancing on 2 legs, the Kirosta raised it's mandible to parry the next attack. The Tryker saw that there would be no melee attack made, as the Kincher pulled it's head back, gathering up a storm of lightning. Acting on implulse, the Tryker spoke the ancient incantation--the infamous words of the Kami lightning attack. The air stirred around him as he held up his hands, and he let out a war cry as he gathered up his last strength in effort to pull the electricity from the moist air. As the sphere of blue energy surged around him, he pushed out his hands, aiming the blast straight towards the evil brown Kincher. The missile smashed into the Kincher's side with tremendous force and fused with the electrical energy that the Kitin had been gathering himself. The result was a blinding flash that lit up even the roof of the Prime roots. A flash so powerful that if it were set off in Pyr, it could be seen from Thesos. The wicked fingers of lightning surged around the stunned body of the Kincher and burned his thick armor until it was charred black. Finally, the storm died down. The Kincher let out a final snarl, and fell to it's side in death.

Then, that same eerie silence overtook the caves as it did before. The Kitin and the Homin, each having saved eachother's life, looked at eachother with an uncomprehendable expression. The Kirosta raised one mandible, as if to say, "Thank you, weak homin," but the mandible fell. The small, beady eyes of the Kirosta which had showed the homin mercy closed slowly, and the Kitin died.

That unforgettable memory was bound to the amber that the Tryker had harvested that day, resting on the pendant that his newlywed wife permenantly wore. Every time he saw it, he was reminded that the honorable Kitin died because of its kindness toward him. The Kincher that watched this went to gather more, to punish the Kirosta for his deed. So, he is constantly reminded:

There can be no mercy among the merciless.


--A short story by Xanavan, a Tryker.

[riveit]

Excellent story!!! I loved it.

[cygnus]

A really enjoyable tale that sounded just like me up until the Kirosta didnt go for the kill, I dont get that lucky in the Roots

[glipe]

Great tale, I really enjoyed it. Very well written. I agree with Snake, though; Kitin are rarely that generous.

[danadita]

Very well written, Xan! Keep going with this. I like how you blended game actions into the story. WTG! (trying not to say "that" word - you know how mayhem explodes when I do )

[dc77066]

I've had aggro walk past me before without attacking me... I usually get upset over it... "what I'm not worth the trouble??" But they go out of their way to get me in the Prime Roots.

-Raku

[vinnyq]

that was so sad!!!

The KITIN DIED!!!

*cries for a million years*

Oh, and going to spoil Harry Poter the HBP too while I am at it:

Darth Vader is Harry Potter's father.

[mrshad]

Darth Vader is Harry Potter's father.

THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!!

[alyssah]

THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!!

If only the possible is possible in RL consequently, only the impossible is possible in fantasy.