The Fyrosian Tryker

[random44]

The air chilled as the burning sun set over the canyon walls.Shalahs collapsed on the dark sand in an instant slumber, and Varinx descended into their dens. This was just another desert night in the Scorched Corridor. Nothing out of the ordinary was going on. A little later, all was dark. At that time, when nothing normally moved or made a sound, A tiny light appeared. Actually, several tiny lights. They illuminated the faces of many homins, from many races. A caravan proceeded through the dark canyon. Not only homins, but several tame mekatoubs. One could count at least seven packers, and a few homin sentries skirted around the caravan on tall, muscular mounts. The entire entourage was totally silent. They moved swiftly and quietly, trying not to draw too much attention to themselves. The corridor is a dangerous region, with a multitude of bandit outcasts and certain aggressive creatures.

At the head of the group was a lanky Tryker by the name of Brend Ba'Garmen. He wore shining blue medium armor of his homeland, and one could observe from its craftsmanship that he had a high position of importance or just quite a few dappers. On his left hip hung an equally beautiful waving tanner sword, which gleamed in the darkness of the Scorched Corridor. Next to him walked Mac'Lautty Ba'Garmen, formerly Eoffie, his wife. Mac'Lautty's unusually round torso indicated that she was almost two seasons pregnant. The two Trykers paced beside 3 powerful guards. An elderly Zorai man took monstrous strides, trying not to speed too much ahead of the group. On his arms were a pair of beautifully crafted magic amplifiers. The palms of the gloves gleamed brightly, emitting an eerie light upon the Zorai's green robe. Near him was a powerful Matisian pikeman, who slung his weapon over the shoulder as he walked. The Fyros youth behind him moved away carefully, trying cautiously to avoid the poison expelled by the tall pike. Finally, an honorable Fyrosian swordsman proudly strode at the side of Brend Ba'Garmen. He acted as if he was Brend's personal guard. In a way he was. Brend was a professional explorer, on his third expedition through the desert regions, as comissioned by the governer Still Wyler himself. This Fyrosian warrior had accompanied Brend on every one of his treks. His name was Xanav. He did not look like the person one would want to meet on Cerakos Avenue at night. His dirty face was barely visible in the dark, despite the torches around. His black armor had no shine like the Tryker's next to him. However, one would make a grave mistake if he tried to judge Xanav's strength by the quality of his armor. On his back he wore a huge Stonyx sword, which was so sharp it could sever the limb of a Kipucka in one blow.

The party marched on for some time. Mac'Lautty seemed to grow more and more uncomfortable as time passed. She let out a quiet painful moan to catch her husbands attention. It did indeed, as Brend signaled for the nearest sentry to surrender his mount to Mac'Lautty. More time passed, and the trek went on in an uneventful manner. All in the caravan were thankful for this; they didn't want any trouble in a region such as the Corridor.

At last, Mac'Lautty couldn't take it any more. She helplessy cried out in pain, frightening several in the group.
"Shush!!!" hissed the Matis pikeman. Brend looked at him with contempt, but he knew what had to be done.
"Halt! We'll camp here!" he ordered in an abrupt tone.
"But sir," began the Zorai mage, "if we stop here, we lose the safe passage of night..." But another contemptuous glance from the Tryker explorer urged him into silence. The weary entourage moved toward the wall of the canyon and began to set up a camp. Some kindled a small fire, others drew items from their packers intent on making shelter. Besides Mac'Lautty, who was in great pain, everyone seemed relieved. The hot sun taxed their energy during the day, and they traveled by night. The gaurds set up a perimeter around the camp, save for Xanav. He followed Brend and Mac'Lautty to a makeshift tent, hoping to aid in the delivery of Mac'Lautty's child. For the next few hours, there were frequent cries of pain mixed with soft comforting tones lofting from the tent. It was almost daybreak when they stopped. The painful screams were replaced by sighs of relief and happiness. A laugh or two also were heard. Mac'Lautty had finally delivered her child, much to the relief of Brend. The Tryker baby was tiny, less than 1 tenth of a meter. His blue-purple eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light of his father's sword.

When Brend Ba'Garmen received the comission to explore the Burning Desert, Mac'Lautty was just about a month pregnant. Brend had not wanted her to join him in his expedition, but rather she stay in thier quiet home in Avendale and await his return. However, she was in love with the desert. She spent a lot of time there as a child with her Fyros guardians. But that is a whole different story. Thankfully, nothing regrettable happened to Mac'Lautty in her decision to join Brend in his explorations. Yet.

Acknowledging the Tryker custom to think of a name for the newborn baby only after its birth, Brend and Mac'Cautty pondered on this topic for awhile. But, a scream broke their meditation.
"Ambush!" yelled the Matisian elite guard as he thrust his pike through the abdomen of a Kipesta. The entire camp was in chaos. Homins ran around everywhere, screaming. A mekatoub mount and its rider flew past the tent occupied by Brend, Mac'Lautty, and Xanav. Mac'Lautty clutched her baby as both men drew their swords. A Kincher ran towards them, but was abruptly stopped by an engulfing ball of flame which had recently left the hands of the old Zorai mage. The enemy seemed to be mostly Kipestas, and the odd Kincher around. Brend watched painfully as a Kipesta torched 3 mekatoub packers, and the goods they carried. Magical missiles flew all around, smoke from exploded launcher shells lofted up and joined the shrill homin cries in the air. Brend was not experienced at all in combat, even though he was quite skilled with a sword. He froze in the midst of the chaos, not knowing what to do. Xanav's gruff voice thawed his mental freeze as Xanav ducked under the swinging tail of a large Kipesta. However, Instead of presenting another attack to Xanav, the Kipesta flew towards the inner part of the camp. It was now midday, and the whole canyon was illuminated. Sweat dripped from the Brend's brow, but it froze there as he realized where the Kitin was headed. It was zeroing in on a tent--the tent that Mac'Lautty and the new child had taken cover within! This time Brend did not freeze. He let out an earsplitting
"Noooooooooooooo!" as he flung himself in the path of the Kipesta. The ugly creature made note of his presence, and decided to swamp it in flame. It drew back its head and extended its "arms" and lethal flamethrower. Brend, being new to this, had no idea what was in store for him. Xanav did, however, and as the flame sac opened, it was cleaved in half by his powerful Stonyx sword. This action was followed by a sharp cry of pain, as the venemous acid from the sac leaked onto his hands, dissolving large portions of his gloves. There was no time to think. Brend did what his instincts told him, and that was to keep Mac'Lautty safe. So, Brend and Xanav were separated.

The battle raged on. The Matisian's pike was snapped in half when he tried to parry a kinchers attack, and he was now fighting with the top half in one hand acting as a spear, and the other half in his left hand, which he used like a staff. He was actually quite proficient with this skill of dual wield, though it is not commonly taught by homins. The Zorai mage was in some trouble; he could not find the will within him to cast any more. He muttered some strange words, and a blinding light enveloped him. When it faded a few seconds later, the Zorai still there, casting more vigorously then ever. An explosion occured, sending a Kincher's mandible and leg flying across the camp. At last, the Kitin forces seemed to be cut down. The air reeked of Kitin flesh and Homin sweat. Refugees emerged from their various shelters in deathly silence. One came out from behind a pile of charred mekatoubs. Gaurds and warriors discarded their weapons on the ground in relief. The Matisian pulled out a reflective piece and fixed his hair. Nobody were more relieved than Brend and his wife though, until a thought came into his mind. Xanav! What had happened to Xanav?

Brend fervently searched around the encampment until he found Xanav. He wished that he did not. There lay the great Fyrosian warrior, face down in the sand, with his helmet a few feet away. His powerful sword rested under the palm of his hand, still gripped firmly by the burnt fingers in the deteriorated gloves. Several Kitin lay slewn in a circle around his body, severly gashed in several places. Brend could not move. He could not speak. He could not even cry. Even though Xanav was a recent friend, he was one of the closest that Brend had ever had. And now he was dead; injured beyond the aid of the Kami or Karavan. Mac'Lautty and her baby slid smoothly over the sand and came to rest next to Brend Ba'Garmen. The baby suddenly began to cry, but probably out of hunger and not sadness. At last Brend spoke.

"We will call him Xanavan," he said.

The trek continued as normal, but nobody said a word. The losses of the battle were too heavy, and nobody wanted to talk about it. Eventually Brend and his wife returned to Avendale with Xanavan and a large sum of dappers from Still Wyler. At a young age, he was sent to the Isle of the Tryker, where he would begin his journey to become a great and noble homin, someone worthy of bearing a name in the likeness of Xanav.


How do I know this, you might ask. Well, all explorers comissioned by the government in that time were given an empty amber cube of wisdom, which which to fill with information on their expedition. That amber cube is mine today, and I'm giving it to you, no rite required.

-A short story by Xanavan, a tryker.

[akm72]

Nice story!

Kind of reminds me of my childhood too

[rabcaz]

My dear friend Xanavan

I see that your name hold both great sorrow and honour and that it was given to you through a mixture of these emotions.
As I read your story a tear of sadness wandered down my cheek, yet I do not think you look back at this with as much sadness as you do with honour.

The loss that day was a great price to pay but thanks to that you walk among us all. And for that I am thankful towards the bearer from whom's name your's has its heritage.

My friend, this was a lovely telling despite the sadness it also hold.
Thank you for sharing this with us

// Drakfot

[riveit]

I had been thinking that you were half-Fyrosian Xanavan, but I now I know better. Excellent story!

[danadita]

*dangit* cussin' at myself here ... This is a very good story, Xanav ! I'm in the process of applying editor markups on it. Do you want the lesson posted here or on our forum? (I would have discussed this with you privately but your PMs are not turned on and I forgot to ask you last night. T-shirt business got in the way)