A square tent, made of disjointed skin of a gray scaled beast, pinned by sharp onyx stones onto the compacted granular sand. The tatters of the fabric letting out the flickering orange light from within the tent. It, seemingly at the edges of the group of tents with the background of the silent night was far from silent.
"You can't make my boy, let out, in the drub night Arriel." said the squeal female voice. "Well, am a not let mi fish go, now am I," a husky withering voice replies seeming seemingly belonging to Arriel. "Then let you go damn it, why you have to involved the boy", the voice replied in almost scream. "No Muriel you back off, let the boy grow for bounded sake!!! boy go." The husky voice taking on a lower tone.
Seconds later the flap of the tent flips open as a small figure comes out, holding a sack of similar scale material as the tent, producing slight clicking sounds as it shook in the hands in the shivering dark hands of the small figure. Just in a thin-skinned hide robe tied with a belt, tattered at it's bottom ending above his knees.
The thin boy headed out, walking off on the layers of compacted sand as he neared the sink point. A point at which the chief's earthen stub failed to affect. He dreaded that point, simply because it got more tiresome to drag through the loose beach sand that wore out his energy, but still he trotted past the sink point into the loose sands until he reached a few miles away from the residence, his only solace, having escaped the raging fight happening in his family tent.
At that point he found the canoes of the tribe, his dad's lingering at the edge of them all. He hated that about him, his dad. Always giving up the best to the rest of the men, leaving the family at the edges of the community, and for what, some damn stupid pride or image. His fist balling up, his furry rising then cooling, fading into the background with a shake of his head, letting out a heavy breath.
He started wondering where he was going to find the damn fish, "Hopein' it still ain't in the waters" he said to himself. Not wanting to push the canoe into the water and try to find a trap that could be anywhere. Only then did he realize that the night was bright than usual, staring up for a bit to observe a double moon above. " Double moon already, never good." He thought out loud then scratching his head, getting back into his task with a simple shaking of his hands.
He walked into their family cannon hearing those familia creaks his mom had shout about for a year now. Only then did a smile spread across his face, his black pupils landing on a net of red flecked fish. He hurriedly rush to get them, with the vigor that was apparently lost to him before. As he rushed to open the net and start to transfer them into the sack. With in the sack were three black metallic cubes with small runes curved on each side, letting out an eerie atmosphere and chilling air. The only relics his family had, an essential for a fisher in his tribe. He wasted no time in pulling fish after fish and stuffing it into the scaled sake, using energy that belied his strength.
He hoped out of the canoe in a rush trying to get back to his family tent, his feet hitting and spraying the sand around as he skipped across the loose sand beach, the feeling of the rush, fading away the vicious cold wind that was stinging him with the rush of air.
Sounds of screams shattered the serene landscape causing the boy's gaze to move upwards, and that's when he saw it, with in the depth of the dark just beyond the semi-lit landscape was a thick cloud of smoke starting to spread, giving the lit appearances of the horizon a more ominous feel than just the lighting of his tribes's tent town. But like a lamb being led to the slaughter, he couldn't stop his footsteps, trotting a bit slower towards what was clearly a disaster.
By the time the boy reached the tent site, the cluttering sound within his scaled sack escalated until the bag hit the compacted sandy floor from the boy's trembling finger as his face was kissed by the waves of simmering heat, hot air blasted upon his face as everything seemed to be up in flames.
A multitude of his clansmen lay scattered dead on the floor, men in boiled leather armor studded with metal studs that reflect the light of the flames into the boys' eyes, as they chopped and hacked away at his fellow clansmen. He simply watched the situation occurring passively infront of him. No one noticed him, no one cried out to him, he walked past everything as if a phantom, well until he saw his family tent, burnt to a crisp like all the tents round it, not even a soldier lingering in the area, bodies scattered around long cold.
But in all those bodies, they were two bodies that caught his attention. One, of a lanky male figure, arms stuck in an out stretched position, a body burnt to a crisp with that of a woman, her upper body burnt and clasping the burnt man while the other half was untouched from the point in which an odd looking red and black rapier that was embedded in her body.
Soon he had a horrifying scream, almost ends and gut retching. He simply noted it, placing it at the back of his mind and walked to the two bodies intertwined at death. Not knowing why, he simply knelt beside them for a while weather twenty minutes or an hour he truly never knew.
All he knew is the scream continued, unbridled and unending. There was, he assumed, a shallow rain because some droplets continued to hit the dead bodies, and then a new sound had entered the region, strong thumping sounds like foots getting louder and louder by the moment, that's when he decided to look up.
A brood man with a brown-golden tanned skin and short hair walked in front of two other men a bit taller than him, the two wore the leather armor every other soldier around seemed to have been wearing, but the man wore a different cloth armor seemingly made up of steel-linen made with diamond designs with a weird snake like animal that appeared to be burning and eating its tail pained in the middle of the chest of this armor.
The men were out of place in the scene behind them, they were laughing, the man in the middle leading the conversation. Something caught him with in their conversation. "Another one.... child.... cryin... his parents". While the language was foreign to him it bore a few similarities with his tribal tongue. And it was only with their words that if finally come to him.
The horrible scream he continued hearing was himself, only then did he feel the raw pain of his throat. The shallow rain was his just his tears raining down his face, wetted by the combination of the tears and mucus following down freely from his face. And most importantly, the men in front of him were the cause of this inscrutable pain he felt at the moment.
With that he leapt up with a fury burning in his chest blazing across the solid sand ground rush to what he deemed to be the bane of his life.He unleashed his fury as a multitude of uncoordinated punches and kicks were flung, that the man dodged easily, stepping back effortlessly with his eyes filled with mirth as he laughed at will clearly finding this more an entertainment than an actual challenge. After a moment he step back behind one of the two tall men who had stepped forward at some unknown time, his fist barrowing forward with in human speed smashing the darker skinned boy onto the hard ground.
The boy still engulfed in his rage shoot up in a instant attacking the tall man again and again, as the man beat him senseless simply, backhanding him with his bracers, his hits feeling like large trunks of wood. By the third time, the boy was bleeding from his mouth and nose, his eyes bloodshot with his vision little more than a few inches in front of him the rest turning into a red misty blur.
Finally, as he tried to get up for the fourth time the tall man walked towered him, then he lifted his leg, and in the boy's blurry vision he saw a scary sight as the shin of the man got ingulfed in a thin ultraviolet wave like energy and only one thought jumped into his mind "a forger" before the shin connected slamming him like the full force of a bull, hauling him from the ground and launching him a mile away to the point where he dropped the scale bag. He had his bones shatter and felt his muscles rupture, somehow knowing that he had not experienced the full force of.
It was at that point, where everything within him felt like it was going to rapture and collapse that he saw him, the tribe leader. The chief Amataba, dressed in his cultural armor, a well-crafted suited of chainmail and tortoise shell that glowed an aquatic green with an animal fur coat peeking from underneath it. He was covered in blood that wasn't gushing out of any visible injure on himself. He held his black metallic Helbert also covered in a thin film of red as droplets dripped of the sharp edge.
A light brown radiant aura flowed off of his aged body as he stood there staring down the three men, silent but furious. The young man standing there in the steel-linen gambeson armor turned around slowly from the show of the boy getting beat and then focused his gaze on the old man, tilting his head slightly with a curious expression in his eye.
Then he nodded once and that's all the two men beside him needed before they shoot forth across the hardened sand. But when the first onw was only a quarter way the distance when Amataba span his weapon within his hands at inhuman speed, ending with a hit on the ground with the bunt of his weapon performing a quick earthen stump, not as powerful or effective but it covered the right range quickly turning all the compact sand into a loose mess, causing the tall men's feet to sink, leading to a halt in their movement, the one farthest from him almost tipping over.
Before they could even gather their senses he performed a desert step the now loose sand around his feet now surge like a wave pushing him forward, propelling him at the witless man in front of him, with the right positioning and movement that he had performed. The blade of the halberd was already slicing into the man's next, when his feet touched the ground, he pivoted using his earth enhanced strength to cleave throw, the head of the man flying off its hinges.
In the next moment he was thumping his halberd into the loose sand again, the sand around his feet propelling him up before solidifying at once trapping the second man's feet between the now solid sand. And by the time he gave up, trying to pull his feet out of the mess it was in, the full glow of the ultraviolet energy rippling across his body, the blade of the halberd still claiming its second victim within a second. At that time the man in the steel linen armor, with a slightly shocked expression started clapping the sound breaking the solemn atmosphere.
Then a lazy smile appeared on his face before it turned into a fierce one. Then he lit up like a pool of oil catching fire, his aura exploded turning into a phantom flame the bellowed and flickered around him, his aura far larger and more influential than his opponent even slight increase the temperature around him. But when he took out his rapier from the dead woman's body, an actual flame bloomed and flickered across the thin blade.
And when Amataba tried to his usual earth-bound manipulations, it all failed as the fire aura around the man bleed across the sand, his spiritual flames burning away all the spiritual connections of earth being generated by the other man. The sand simply melting away from him, turning into loose sand and floating away from him.
His movement's eploding forth, becoming so fast he left after-images in his wake that appeared to be flickering on and off like a living flame. In the next moment a bone chilling scream was let out from Amataba as his halberd clattered to the flow his entire body instantly catching a blaze as the rapier was buried deep into his chest protruding out the other end in the region of his heart.
And almost as if all that happened was an illusion the man pulled out his rapier and place it into it's sleeve. And with that all his aura vanished the blade just a thin metal of cold steel, himself just a man once again.
He bent down and said, almost in a whisper, to the dead body of the old chief. "When I was a signed to this slave collection, I thought It was to be a boring trip. But you my friend have given me a pleasant surprise! you actually gave me something fun to do." He paused there, stood up polished off the sand collected on is steel linen. "And that's why you mustn't worry too much, I won't let you fade into the sands of time," he chuckled a little at his own lame joke, "I will learn your name and ensure that somehow you shall be remembered, your barbaric genius." he finished with a laughing and began to walk away.
For the boy on the ground, feeling as if his life was seeping away as he watched it all in a dazed watching, those true mythical warriors, the forgers at worker. Gaining hope and losing it just as quickly, as he watched the legend of his tribe fall in mere second. The last thing he heard was the mumblings of the powerful foreign forger, the only thing he understood was the word "fun" before his world went blank.