Fiction:Tribal Tales

Today, tales abound of adventures in the stars. So many races share the galaxies that when it comes time for songs to be sung, they are inevitably about the latest space captains and their daring missions. But once, this was not so. Once, these races were mere shadows on the galactic plane- simple tribes of often nomadic wanderers, eking out an existence on unforgiving worlds. These are their tales.

Tribal Tales

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The Blademaster's Epic
''The first true Council of Blades was one much different to the one the galaxy knows today- a war council formed from several Fordanta tribes that had united against a common threat- the Mortelus, a race of half-epics remembered only vaguely in the Fordan Annals. Hulking monstrosities of rough scale and razor spines, the Mortelus often swept down from their mountain holdfasts, burning the forests of the Fordanta as they went. Few could stand in their path, and many small villages were destroyed almost as an afterthought. Before too long, though, the Fordanta began to fight back.

''Open conflict was out of the option- the Mortelus could heave great gouts of toxic vomit, and their scythe-like limbs could fell a tree in a single blow. And so, the Fordanta were forced to skirmish within their forests, attacking by surprise. In this way, they managed to fell a few of the invaders, but ever more came. More and more Fordanta were killed, either sliced apart and eaten or melted by a tide of boiling phlegm. There was little the Fordanta could do- their natural weaponry was only so effective against the rock hides of their enemy, and stone spears and swords fared little better. While the Fordanta of the forests died in droves, those of the great plains began to marshall their strength.

''Lead by a veteran warrior, known to his followers only as the Blood Huntsman, a hundreds-strong band of Fordanta raced to fight this new foe. For many days they sprinted across open ground, never pausing in their march except to take food and water. As they reached the foot of the mountains, however, they saw the daunting task that lay ahead. Twisting stone steps hacked from the rock lead up an exposed cliff face- one in full view of the Mortelus stronghold. Any climber would be open to a rain of boulders, and quickly crushed against the basalt walls. Past this, a massive wooden gate too large for even a Fordanta to open, again guarded by a rock-hewn fortress. The Plains Fordanta could not triumph alone, and so they searched for their forest kindred.

''All Fordanta are kin at heart, and when a company of plains warriors was seen at the outskirts of a forest village, they were welcomed with fanfare rather than suspicion. The two chieftains met, holding a council of war. The plains Fordanta were used to open conflict, where they could see, and be seen by, their enemy. Yet even they were concerned to oppose the Mortelus. They were too few to overcome such a powerful foe- this was agreed by all. What was needed was a way to draw out small numbers of Mortelus at a time, so that they could be defeated by overwhelming numbers. The forest Kin, having studied their enemy long and closely, knew that the only chance they would have is when the Mortelus were leaping down the mountainside to prepare for a battle. There would only be a short window for each kill, but the Fordanta were confident. And so, the chieftains drew their battle plans, while word was sent to other plains and forest tribes to send warriors to join the attack.

''As the day of the battle came, no fewer than twenty tribes had answered the call to arms, and more than a thousand Fordanta stood ready to defy the Mortelus. Using their chameleoline skin, the warriors hid themselves among the jagged rocks at the landing place. Others still waited in trees, longbows and blowpipes at the ready. Each Mortelus would be killed quickly and efficiently, ready for the next to fall to his doom. A quake signalled the first departure, and as the giant landed the Fordanta fell on him. Arrows the size of javelins whistled out of the canopy into the beast's eyes, while warriors tied his legs with barbed cords. A berserk Fordanta launched a devastating headbutt, toppling the Mortelus and impaling him on a jagged spine of rock. This procedure was repeated dozens of times, and the Mortelus fell to their deaths over and over again. The chieftains, watching from the safety of the trees, shared a rare smile- the plan was working.

''All this changed, however, when a roar louder than all others joined the chorus. Smashing into the ground near the warriors, a Mortelus larger than any before swatted away the arrows fired at him, and crushed the warriors trying to snare his legs. Charging the warriors around him, he scythed into the Fordanta as they tried to rally. Their attacks had little effect; the beast's iron scales protected it from all damage. With their numbers drastically dropping, the horrified Chieftains sounded horns for a retreat. But one Fordanta refused to listen.

''Roaring defiance, the Hunstman launched himself into the battle. From up on his rocky perch, he had studied the creature, and now made his attack. Leaping, he vaulted over the beast's arm, rolling into a ball as he landed to come up behind the creature. Dodging a savage tail-sweep, he climbed the ladder of spines on the beast's back, arm-blades tearing wounds into his enemy. Relinquishing his hold, the warrior leapt for an arm that reached out to grab him, and ran along this until the beast's head was within reach. A savage flick of the head brought great antlers down on the Fordanta, who was knocked off his feet. Rallying, he clung onto one of the protrusions on the monster's chest.

''The beast brought his arms together, hoping to crush the annoying Fordanta. The canny warrior launched himself up, sailing over the beast's head and landing behind, secured by the crown of spines protruding from the creature's back. Reaching out with his astounding strength, the old warrior yanked on his foe's antlers, and on the third try tore them free. Gushes of blood mixed with grey fluids poured out of the wounds, where the Huntsman had torn bone from skull. A great hand reached back to swat him, but he evaded the strike, letting the Mortelus' claws dig back into its brain. The shudder brought the great beast to its knees. Reaching up again, the Huntsman grasped the ragged holes in his foe's head and heaved hard to the right, then to the left in an attempt to snap its spine. After a few tries, the thick vertebrae in the Mortelus' neck finally gave way, and a resounding crack shook the halls of the Mortelus tribe. To ensure the task was done, the Huntsman tore out a spine from the beast's back, and rammed it hard into its skull, piercing its brain and puncturing its airways. The gurgling scream that issued out of its throat symbolised the single greatest victory the Fordanta would ever achieve- the survival of their race.''

-This message by Spriggs077, a.k.a. AGrumpyPanda 12:13, April 1, 2012 (UTC)