The splash of murky water. Clods of dank earth flying through
the air. The stench of meat breath heavily panted. A pity I cannot smell the
sweat of fear, but that is reserved for warmbloods who push water from their
skin. For a Lizard Man, for one of Semuanya’s chosen people, this one I fight
is a pitiful creature. How could he think to take Desara for a mate? From me?
His scales are a disgusting grey like a sky that is soon to fall. Mine are
regal green like the waters of the swamp. He is short too, almost human sized.
Not like Sanvar, largest of my tribe. His tail, skinny and flat while mine is
full and strong, great for swimming. He has jumped onto the shore like a hrrsssklll . He knows he cannot beat me in the water.
“Warmblood! Long Spear challenge Sanvar to Honor
Duel, but no fight like Scasss ! Fight like hrrsssklll .”
My insult stings his flimsy pride. The fool
bares his neckflesh at me. At Sanvar! How dare he? I shoot from the water. Land
feels wrong. Always does. Feet are for swimming, not walking. He strikes at me
with his club. I let it hit. He is weak. I see it in his eyes. He knows he has
lost, yet he does not grovel before me. He refuses to beg. I will teach him.
One swing and his arm has broken. Still he
stands. Foolish Long Spear. His tribe was always too arrogant for their own
good. Not like Greenbacks, not like Sanvar. I’ll beat humility into his head. I
bring my club down upon his skull. Finally, he kneels. I bare my neck at him.
My victory is won. No more need for insults or
duels. I reach to bring him up. He refuses to grab my arm. I grab him under his
shoulder and heave, but he is limp. Those who watched are now swimming and
walking closer. I let him fall on his back. He was weaker than I thought.
“Take weak one to Long Spears. Long Spears need
the meat.”
Hisses come from the crowd that has heard. Death
is not the way of the Honor Duel. This will not go well. I must see the Elder.
I push my way through the gathering. A cry
erupts behind me, calling to Semuanya. Foolish Long Spear. He should not have
challenged Sanvar. I see the Elder’s home; he stands in the doorway, hunched
and mottled from age, leaning on his staff. I call to him.
“Elder. Honor Duel went poorly. Sanvar kill Long
Spear.”
His eyes darken, and he begins walking towards
the Duel Pit. I turn to follow him. Many eyes are upon me as we walk. It is not
pride as usual, it is fear. Fear that their greatest warrior may be called to
answer Semuanya.
The Long Spear Elder is at the Pit when we
arrive. He is sprinkling salt upon his fallen warrior. The Last Feast will take
place later tonight. They will take in his flesh and his strength and he will
live on within the tribe. The only end worthy of a warrior.
The Elder turns to me and speaks. “Sanvar, stay
here. I will speak with the Long Spears.”
“Yes, Elder. Sanvar will wait here.”
The Elder nods and moves to the body of my
former rival. The two Elders whisper. I see hate in the Long Spears, and some
have brought weapons. They expect a fight. One bares his neck at me. I refuse
to move. It is a long time before my Elder returns. I see sorrow. The Long
Spears are picking up their slain tribesman and returning to their part of the
swamp.
“Sanvar, we must converse. You cannot stay in
the Cold Marshes.” He has started moving toward his hut. I follow. “The Long
Spears want war. A death in an Honor Duel is not our way. I reminded them that
our deaths come as Semuanya wills it, but they did not wish to listen. They
believe you wanted to kill him, and they refuse to see reason. I managed to
convince them not to go to war, yet at a great cost: you must leave us.”
We have arrived at my hut.
“Long Spears not seek Sanvar’s death instead?”
“Of course, they did, but a life for a life is
not the way of Semuanya. Go, get your armor and weapons. Meet me at my home
when you are ready.”
“Yes, Elder.”
Inside, I think of what I will need. To leave
the tribe… it is a fate worse than death, but honor has been broken. I cannot
resist. My armor is what the warmbloods call splintmail, sewn together from two
humans to fit my torso. I clap leather and steel around my forearms and shins.
The shield I wield was large on the human who bore it before me, yet it fits me
well. I place my traveling sack on my back, and a large pouch on my belt. My
sack already carriessome rope,
net, and four javelins which stick out high over my right shoulder, making them
easy to grab. Into my pouch, I place two glass bottles I took from some pointy
eared humans after I poured out the foul smelling liquid that was in them. I
look now for my spear, but my eye catches the hatchet that was presented to me
after bringing two sharks to my tribe. I slide it through my belt, no doubt
that it will be useful. I find my spear near the door. It is a sturdy thing,
though now mostly used for fishing.
The walk to the Elder is a slow one, heads held
low and eye contact shirked. The Elder stands outside. He holds the great Three
Spear in his hand. It was once used by our chief who led us to the Cold
Marshes.
“This, Sanvar, is called a trident. It is a
great weapon for a great warrior. Give me your spear and take this in hand.
With it, you will make the warmbloods respect the Scasss .”
The weight of the thing feels natural, like I
was born to wield it. Maybe leaving my home will not be so bad.
“Sanvar will uphold the Honor of the Scasss . This, Sanvar swears.”
“Very well. Then, I renounce you as one of the
Greenbacks. You are a Scasss of the world.”
I journey though the
marshes and swamp, the calling of song-beetles heralding my travel. It is the
usual kind of excursion, minor annoyances bar my path. A band of three kobolds
fall to me, water termites spray my eyes with their foul musk, and I
circumnavigate a patch of quicksand. These things do not interest me. On the
second day of my exile, I find human construction. Wooden planks stretched
across the brackish water. It feels worse than land. Nevertheless, I follow
them, curious. After some time, a net is thrust upon me, I rip through it
easily and confront my would-be assassins: other Scasss . We battle for some time before more arrive.
I yell my name,
“Sanvar cannot be beaten!”
This stops them.
Maybe they have heard of me. They lower their weapons and lead me onwards through
their camp. Many different tribes are gathered here, combined. It is strange.
The Scasss they take me to looks me
over and decides that I should join them. I have nowhere else to go, so I
agree.
The next day, they
take me to an arena where I am to fight to prove my worth. They send me against
two swamp boars. I best the creatures by thrusting them upon sharp rocks. I
spread the meat among the crowd. While I wait for the next match, I rip out the
skull of one of the boars. This angers the spirits. The bones of boars past and
of a very large human rise from beneath the peat and damp earth. The largest
skeleton is the biggest threat, so I choose to tackle it first. I cross to the
other side of the arena through a large pool in the center. The skeletal boars
are slowed down by this, allowing me to face the big one alone. It has a club
like a tree. With such a weapon, I cannot hope to win. I disarm the foul undead
and take its club in two hands. I smash its bones to dust then turn my
attention to the now-arrived threats. The club makes quick work of them.
After this display, I
am inducted into the ranks of this Colony. The next day, I am sent to scout and
hunt. We find boar and bullywug tracks. I set up a large snare to catch one
then wait patiently in the ooze like a crocodile, only snout and eyes above the
water. After 3 days, bullywugs come and one gets caught in my snare. I leap
from the murk and battle them, but they best me.
I wake up in a cage
with an old bullywug in front of me. He wears a large hat. He tells me of the
breaking of the swamp at the hands of the Scasss. They let me free. I do not
return to the Colony. I watch and wait and learn. I am patient. I will find
someone who can help.
