Gaalsi Convoy by Collector/Controller
Published on Kiith Iopia on the 09 March 2001
The winds howled like unholy ghosts, the swirling of small tides of dust, the waves of grains of sand, a infinite tide of a sea of sand, moving in a eternal flux, like the tides of the southern seas, ebbing and flowing. In the distance silhouettes of tiny stature could be seen, bravely traversing the desert, already beyond human contact, far out from the nearest well.
A horse brayed within this maelstrom, two and three more, a company of horse and men trotted through the sands, the horses burdened with many packs of sand, many men marched with shining sword and shield, standing watch and sentry, watching every dune for their eternal enemy the Siidim.
The Gaalsi gazed out at the sea of dunes, a vast desert. They were going north, to the land of the Somtaaw...the weak. Sajuuk would crush them all. But the infernal desert would be first, and might even crush them. Tanned bodies gazed out over the shimmering sands, ageless and continuous, omnipresent and rolling, like the giant plains to the south, only more bleak and lifeless.
The convoy moved on through this hostile world, the howling winds and shriek of a Skaal as it fed upon unfortunate prey. The merrowl of a dune strangler as it caught its meal. The sounds of the predator animals send fear into the hearts of the Gaalsi...but as long as they were far away they would be fine.
A Gaalsi gazed into the parching sun, into the blue sky he gazed and saw a Fiirkan fluttering about lazily, swooping in circles and waiting.
A Kharakian Kaa hawk swooped in, the giant wrapped its steely talons around the tiny bird and crushed it audibly, pulp and blood dripping down onto the endless sea of dry, small blots of red marking where a life had been ended.
This is life. Things die and go into Sajuuk's gracesβ¦
The Gaalsi marched on, and made talk of war and killing, of shedding blood and butchery, like they had done to the Manaani at their dancing grounds. The Manaani had proved worthless enemies. They did not have weapons, and they did not fight back. They fled like worthless sand-scum, worth less then the waste matter of their horses.
A sandskimmer lay beached on the rocks, silent, its sail fluttering in the wind. As such it was out in this vastness that many skimmers lay, broken and crushed. They did not dare look inside for supplies or shelter, respecting the dead as they were. Most likely they had died in agony, and even the Gaalsi respected the dead, kiith or no kiith, worthless or not, they were still in Sajuuk's graces.
Around them were tiny dunes, and one or two were denoted by bundles of stakes driven into the ground, to denote the resting of the dead. The Gaalsi said a prayer to Sajuuk, praying for the souls of the dead. And then the convoy stopped, in the shade of a massive rock. Near the derelict skimmer they lowered their weapons and shed their armor.
And they ate. They chatted idly about home, some praying and others standing sentry. One Gaalsi kicked at a grave and laughed maniacally. The others stared ruthlessly at him, the crazy beserker who did not respect anything, not even Sajuuk. They sneered and laughed. And then they died with fear and shock in their eyes.
Out of the sand erupted the reapers, dozens of warriors jumping out of their hiding spots, litterally coming out of the ground around the Gaalsi. The surprised Gaalsi gazed at their attackers for a split second and ran for their weapons. Everywhere were dozens of grim faced warriors, doused and covered in sand, in alien robes and battle tongue.
Ambush! They thought.
"TO ARMS!" yelled the commander.
The Gaalsi ran to their lain down weapons.
In unision the grim faced warriors leapt upon their prey, swords lashing out in the bright afternoon light, keen swords shining like beacons in the midday, reflecting the light. Their arm-shields, used to conceal their bodies were used as weapon, giant spiked Seejurs crushing bones and bodies against its sharp hard surface.
Shiny swords of sharpened edges lashed out, licking and goring, impaling Gaalsis left and right as the agile fighters stabbed and sliced, gutting Gaalsis left and right, the fanatics slain in their spots, disemboweled and dying in many morbid poses, with expressions of fright and fear, their entrails littered the floors, a Gaalsi escaped on horseback and was torn off by a pike and impaled in the ground.
Within a few minutes the Gaalsi lay dead, their gutted and torn forms lying every which way, parts of corspes lay to dry in the sun. The last Gaalsi lay impaled on the ground, head tilted back and saliva dripping out. The open eyes began dessicated.The Sobanii looked to one another and nodded in unision. The deadly warriors vanished with a passing cloud of sand, a mild storm enveloping the carnage and vanishing, the horses trotting away back whence they game. The Gaalsi would miss this convoy, but would never know what happened to it.
A Fiirkan fluttered in as the storm abated, and proceeded to nibble on an disembodied eye.