The echo of a resounding, clamorous, high pitched ringing of metal striking metal pierced the otherwise unearthly stillness of the southern New mexican hillside. Zas B'ul was only briefly able to recompose his sword fighting stance before the hideously revolting Fomor charged at him once more.
The creature stood some 7 feet tall. It's armor plated skin shone brightly in the fading sun, with all attempts to conceal its true nature tossed aside, along with the human skin coverings it had somehow managed to squeeze itself into. Were any humans to look at the scene, they would likely run in panic-filled terror as the Veil was torn. From the beasts' face and arms oozed a steady, slimy, disgusting mixture of bile and pus. The dried and caked on remnants of blood from it's human host was plastered on any visible areas not covered in various forms of boils or sores. It's putrid stench reeking of the most vile, foul smelling, odor imaginable. It's grotesque and dark unkempt appearance only being overshadowed by the creature's overt creepiness. The creature in it's battle-ready state was nearly the same width of a buffalo from shoulder to shoulder. The two had been engaged in battle for what felt like hours to Zas, but in reality was mere moments. The slitted, hate filled, glowing yellow eyes, of the monster in addition to the rest of it's body clearly marked it as a servant of the Wyrm.
Zas was on his first leg of the journey to becoming a full fledged member of the Silent Striders. All that remained was for him to finish this evil beast somehow, find and either help or end a ghost, and complete a long journey to deliver a message. The beast for it's part, had proved more canny than expected, as it had placed itself in a relatively high position of authority over the nearby town-the bartender. It's atrociousness could barely remain hidden beneath the simple human skin-resembling that of a seriously obese, ugly, zit-filled face, white man in his late 30's, who on more than one occasion pocketed more than just the tips the locals left him.
Zas' mixed heritage (half apache/half whiteman) had made rooting out the despicable creature exceedingly difficult, as most of the townspeople tended to either avoid him entirely or run him out of town. None of them certainly ever offered to buy Zas a drink-not that he would have accepted. Finding a time to engage the beast when it was least defended was also challenging as it seldom left it's gloomy haven. The endeavor was a major undertaking in teaching Zas patience, to say the least.
The creature seemed to be getting worn down by the ferocity of Zas' attacks however as it stumbled back, and Zas was all too eager to finish this match. His final rush towards the Fomor was halted however as the creature made eye contact with him. Zas immediately dropped his sword to the ground as his mind was immersed in all manner of evil things: dark images of Zas' impending doom, his home village ablaze by the whitemen's torches, horribly wretched swarms of black formless shapes overwhelming all he held dear, large foreboding black clouds encroaching the land as far as he could see. The mental assault was incredibly powerful and was coming from a foe that mere seconds before seemed nearly beaten. It was only after the third lifetime of pain and suffering he had mentally and emotionally experienced that he managed to regain his senses. Though still in his homid form, Zas closed the rest of the distance between him and his foe and with one final swipe of his partially transformed claw decapitated the vile beast. Whereupon he sat down and cried as he recovered as best he could from the memories that still replayed in his head from the prior attack.
After he dried his tears, he got up, collected his sword and began to walk away from this place eager to distance himself from such potent and powerful evil. He had just cleared the first of the nearby hills when he heard the unmistakable sounds of gunfire coming from up ahead. As he neared, he returned to his homid form completely, and made out the scene.
One man stood mortally wounded in the last stages of life putting up quite a fight against three masked bandits. He fired off shots from both of his guns and managed to clip one man in the arm, and cause another to fall to the ground dead with a shot through the head. The man then dropped himself; face first into the ground, and breathed his last breath. The two remaining bandits, wasted no time collecting the dead man's guns and belt before hopping back on their horses and grabbing two other horses, which likely belonged to the two men now motionless on the ground, and hightailing it out of the area.
As their dust trail settled, Zas B'ul approached the spot where the two dead men lay. It was rather cozy. A small shack in the hills. The building wasn't much to look at, but it had a few barrels of water inside which Zas helped himself to. Based on the scene Zas reckoned the most likely reasoning for the violent dispute to be over something trivial as money, for the men on the ground didn't seem nicely dressed. Zas had only been on the scene for roughly 20 minutes, digging out graves for the deceased before an unexpected visitor found him.
"You saw what happened didn' ya, Injun?"
Zas dropped his shovel and spun around to see who was speaking to him, but saw nobody.
Zas replied somewhat more angrily than intended, "Whose there?"
The voice returned, "Ah Hell! It would figure, I meet the one person who can hear me but it turns out to be the dumbest injun in the territory."
Zas with slightly more control over his voice asked again, "I hear your voice, but I can't see anyone. Is there anybody here?"
The voice sighed and said, "Yeah, I'm here ya idjot. I'm lying right over there."
Zas turned to look at the bodies, and saw neither of them had moved or seemed to be breathing. "Who are you? What do you want?"
The voice replied, "My name is Pete. Folks call me Sweet Pete...well erm, the used to anyway. Anyhow, I want ta'
know what you intend to do about the wrong that's been done to me."
Zas bewildered looks around again but sees nothing. He then says, "Well, um, Pete. I don't know where you are, but the only thing I can think to do would be to report this to the sheriff. The problem is, well, I'm as you noticed an Indian. Folks find it a might hard to believe if'n I waltz into town and report a random killing in the middle of nowhere."
The voice is quiet for a few moments before responding, "Well, why couldn't you just go get what's mine yourself? Leave the law out of it?"
Zas rubs his chin, "I can't leave the law out of it. The law is the law. However, the law does say a man is entitled to what is rightfully his. What exactly is it that you want back?"
The voice is quiet again but then replies, "Joe stole mah' guns. I think if'n I had them I could rest easy. Shoot, you could take my horse for your troubles...she's a good 'un."
Zas replies, "I appreciate the offer, but you sound able enough to talk, why not go get your guns yourself?"
Pete replies, "You ain't very bright. I done been shot. I'm dead."
Zas eyes widen, "Oh. I see. That would make it hard to do." After a moment, "Well, I suppose I could track Joe down and ask him for your guns, but I doubt much that he will give them to me freely."
Pete says, "Well, he may need some convincing. Just tell him, Pete got there first, and he'll know you are telling the truth. He might even give you them guns back too." He laughs. "That oughta teach 'im."
Zas nods and says, "I am making you no promises other than I will ask him for you and deliver your message."
Pete responds, "Thanks Partner. You're ok for an injun."
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Joe and Smokey sat at their campfire a ways down the road. Smokey, tending to his left arm piped up, "Still don't understand why yall couldn't just agree to disagree."
Joe shot back, "It's the principle of the thing Smokey. A man has got to back up what he says. Occasionally he does that with bullets."
The two then become deeply involved in a discussion about the nature of knowing when it's ok to kill a man or not, and how soon is too soon to say bad things about a dead person.
They don't hear as Zas approaches them and hollers out to them, "Hello. Are either of you Joe?"
It's not until Zas steps into the firelight and repeats his questions that the two men turn to face him.
Joe jumps up, hand on his pistol, "Yeah, I'm Joe. Who wants to know?"
Zas nonchalantly shrugs and says, "Some person named Pete."
Joe looks to Smokey worriedly and back to the stranger, "Never heard of him."
Zas`smiles and says, "He thought you may say something like that, so he told me to say he got there first."
Joe whips out one of Pete's guns hurriedly and says, "I think you need to leave partner."
Zas smile fades as he backs away from the fire and says, "Ok. Just wanted to let y'all know. Pete wants his guns back."
Smokey looks to Joe and says, "Man, there ain't no way anybody could've seen us. He's telling the truth. Best give him Pete's guns."
Joe gives Smokey a concerned look before holstering the gun and saying, "Come get his guns. Take his horse too. I ain't looking to piss off his spirit."
Zas collects the guns and the horse and then heads back and delivers them to Pete. Pete is insistent that Zas take the horse for his troubles. Zas finally agrees only after Pete says that he wants the horse to go to an honest man. Zas then buries the guns in the grave with Pete's body and Pete bothers Zas no more. The same could not be said for the terrible visions that Zas dealt with earlier. They returned in full force, as Zas headed back to his tribe to get the instructions he needed to finally become a full tribe member.
Home 
