A Warchiefs Tale
Night Fire 3
Killer of the Pulse, Receiver of Freedom
The great glorious sun set again. Rul shook the embers in the ashand stuck an greasy Fire Bouncer oak twigs into the embers. As the fire flared he stuck another chunk of wood, this time with holes in the middle, on it. He almost suffocated the fire but then poked the ashes again. As the fire stabilized he sighed a breath of relief. He went out to gather the young ones.
He said, This is only for those who killed their first rabbit, I will tell the full story to them. For you young ones, I will tell you what happened.
He went out and found a man, he killed him and stole the mans raft. Going south he found his clan in chaos.
Fighting a few years, he and his small elite guard defeated the pretenders and unified the Clan of Kirti. Becoming a dominant force in the Darali he, using his story, convinced them to have him lead ships and other chiefs to defeat the north for not only revenge but fishing and trade.
That is when this part ends. You may go out.
After the final children went out, he started the real story
Out into the woods he stumbled, preparing for the guard. He wrung his hands and popped his knuckles. The guard walked toward on the path. He can see the raft ahead. He saw the guard when he saw them and they both yelled in the darkness.
They ran at each other, what happened next we dont know, but after a brutal clash Kirti held the club.
The Guard took out his knife, his hair matted with blood, they fought a well fought duel: he weak yet Kirti starved.
He swung his knife into the night, stabbing for Kirtis leg. The Guard missed and stumbled, while Kirti struck his head. He stood up again, winded but not defeated; he thrust his knife into the club that Kirti wielded.
Kirti tried to strike again but the guard held strong. So Kirti threw the club away, and as the guard whirled, he leapt for the neck.
Over the air, into the night, he landed on the man. He struck his hands on the neck of the guard under him. He felt a pulse, loud and strong, and started to force it in
for when the pulse gets stuck, he knew that he will win.
However, he did not see that the guard wore sharp boots. A kick in the knee and they tumbled down in the woods.
Kirti punched his face; he can see the blood flying through the air. He felt a stab in his gut and returned the favor, he brought the guards stomach beyond repair.
Yet they still fought, head to head, and started to strangle each other. Kirti felt again, the mans lifes pulse, and started to close his hand.
His own neck a world of pain, his head is spinning in water, he felt a need to use his head and proceeded in the matter. He struck his head, hardened by starvation, into the guards own. The guard loosened his grip for a second and then, he was lost.
Down and down, Kirti pressed, yet the man seemed not to die, down and down, the pulse became weaker until finally, the man died.
Gasping, tumbling, Kirti realized what he done: he killed a man with his own bare hands and yet it seemed like nothings wrong. He clenched his teeth and took the mans rations and a map. He went on the boat and traveled south before hiding for a nap.