Last of My Kind

Last of my kind ((background of Gaurr))

A scout returned from a patrol with a discovery. There was a man in a river within a cave. An elder and a few of the warriors went to the cave with the scout leading the way. The ice cave glowed from the refracting light. Lo there nestled to a boulder was a large man under the ice. The men slowly chipped away at the ice until the man was exposed. The elder called upon the spirit of the great bear to bring this man back to the living. The shaman’s magic worked and the large, hairy man sat up and coughed. The elder greeted him back to being amongst the living. The resurrected man began to speak in a soft, dry voice. The tongue was completely foreign to the rescuers. The scout took off his fur cape and laid it upon the stranger. After some difficulty the warriors helped him to stand. The party led the man from the frozen river to their village.

The elder asked his daughter to clean the man by a warm fire and tend to any wounds. She was hesitant but wanted to try out her new knowledge, and so she agreed. She led him into a small hut and pulled the blanket across. The young shaman woman indicated where he should sit. She stoked the fire into a controlled blaze. She sat next to him and looked into his timeless eyes as his gaze was transfixed on her fiery amber eyes. Primal heat emanated between them. Their second skins were shed and she marveled at all the scars across his strong frame. He was completely mesmerized by the beauty of her and her scent. She began to bathe him…

The next morning the man was brought to the Elders Hut. Most of them looked worried and pensive, others curious, and the one smiling. The outsider was sat in the middle of the hut. The people began to speak in turn and it was raucous. Finally the elder that brought him to the cave raised his arms and all went silent. He took out a blowpipe and a small pouch out of a large bag on his way to the seated man. The elder opened the pouch and withdrew a green powder and then placed the powder in the blowpipe. Closing the pouch he attached it to his belt. He motioned for the man to put the pipe to his nose and he did so. The shaman waited until he felt the rhythm of the others breath, and then when the man was inhaling the elder blew the powder forcibly down the blowpipe. Shocked at the discomfort of having the substance forced into his lungs he lay down. His eyes began to water profusely, and he began to cough. The sky began to swirl and undulate. During the man’s trance the elder shaman spoke with the spirits and they told him that this man was a great hunter in long ago times. Ages before Atlantis fell and the world became as it is. He had a family and life was good. During a hunt he fell in a crevice near the cliff for the game to fall to their deaths. The river in the crevice swept him away and then he drowned. The man blinked his eyes out of the stupor and started to focus.
The elder shaman explained that the spirits had given him a new life. Through the power of the Otherworld he could understand their tongue. He was to live with them and be a provider. The nomadic band traveled from camp to camp as the seasons wore on. They nicknamed him “Gaurr”, meaning “Man of the Wolf”.

* * * *

Latro strode down the path framed by the many tents of his sleeping soldiers. The guards saluted him as he passed. The makeshift hill-fort served them well for protection from the retaliation of their raiding. The marauders massacred all the people they encountered. The plunder was adequate and the killing was euphoric for Latro. His men were well fed and
paid. Sometimes the men would capture attractive victims and they would be alive as long as they were still entertaining. Life was grand indeed.

* * * *

Gaurr trudged through the tough terrain and the cold. At last he arrived at the camp before dawn. He hung the few rabbits he had caught on a meat pole, and proceeded to his hearth. The warm hut was inviting as he pulled aside the leather door. Inside was the joy of his life. His woman opened an amber eye just a slit as he passed over the threshold, and a sly smile adorned her face. Her back was to him, and she rustled a little pretending to sleep. He did his best to be stealthy to not disturb her. There was a cauldron hanging above the embers of the hearth. Gaurr investigated and lo there was some stew left. He began to prepare his meal, and Una jumped up and roared akin to a lioness. He startled and tripped over a chair ending up on his haunches with stew dripping off his hair and furs. They both burst into hardy laughter. Her beauty stunned him into silence. He began to strip off his furs and wiped away the stew. The two lovers embraced and began to kiss as their hands explored well known flesh. The following dawn he went on the hunt again with a
bright smile.

* * * *

He had smelled mass smoke as he ran. All that was left was smoldering ashen bodies and the skeletons of the huts when Gaurr returned. Everyone was dismembered and headless in a large pile. Tearing through the bodies he strove to find Una. To his horror she was not in the heap of bodies. Upon the meat-pole hung flayed skin with blue markings. His soul shattered. The skin was hers.
With burning hate in his eyes he covered himself in the ashes and put on his furs. Grabbing a few spears he followed the well beaten tracks. After three days of running he found the demons in man-flesh. He kept his distance and watched them. There was a tall man made taller by the crested helm that he wore. All the men were covered in metal. He bid his time until the dark of the new-moon shone through the fog. He snuck upon a lone guard, covered his mouth from behind, and deftly slit his throat. Gaurr procured a great-axe from the man after he was quietly set down upon the ground. His body began to churn as he heard the elder’s chants pound in his head and heart. The spirits that infused him with new life now gave him their power. Muscles rippled and grew. Gaurr became a monstrous bearer of death. Taking up the great-axe in one hand he bellowed a battle yell from the depths of his soul and leapt over the sharpened pole wall. The slaughter was abundant. Grabbing another great-axe he slew with abandon. Latro was the last standing and pissed in his strong armor whilst one axe disemboweled him as simultaneously the other split his helm and mutilated his brain-pan. Gaurr threw the weapons down and bellowed again in the bitter-sweetness of revenge. To the Hells he forced them to their tortures of the gods there. He strode away into the night covered in gore.

* * * *

The ship rolled along the waves to the pirate haven of Tortage. Then Gaurr grabbed his bag as the ship docked, and promptly went to find some strong drink and anything else to numb the pain…