the desert of dread

The Desert of Dread





I stayed on that world a short while longer. It’s not my job to fix planets I just fix the negative elements. There are plenty of other universal social workers who serve the masters to do that. It’s a dam big job running the universe.
For some reason I was directed to go into the desert and soon met a very friendly group of nomadic people who lived there. They lived in a vast mountain pass and probably would have tried to rob me blind if I hadn’t been a servant of the masters. It does have its fringe benefits I suppose. The nomads were hired by the city to watch the pass, give reports, and take what tribute they could. They were rough men but on the whole honest and forth-coming. A trait I have come to appreciate. They invited me to sit with them and shared some food with me. Which while I don’t need to eat, I accepted with gratitude. It’s my policy to accept what people give me as a matter of respect to the respect which they show me. We sat and talked about nothing for a short time. There leader was a grim looking old man with a heart of gold.
As we sat some one came up and said that a group of armed men were crossing the pass. I walked over to the watch point and saw a very large and thick aristocratic being walk along the way with about ten men dressed in bright golden yellow robes armed to the teeth. I looked closely at him. He didn’t seem flesh based at all. Yet he wasn’t a demon. Something from the vast gulf between good and evil. I was curious as to where he stood. And what in the hell he was exactly. One thing I did notice was that he was heading towards the cursed city and I hadn’t seen him there before.
While I stared at him he turned and looked at me. He stopped and started walking up the path which led to the watch post. The aristocrat was dressed in black for the most part and was almost as tall as me. His body was thick but not fat. He had short red hair pale skin and almost glowing eyes. As he approached the nomads got in a line standing at attention. I sat on the ground my sword drawn and sticking point down into the ground. My sword has a cute little name, Purundara, which in the language of the high worlds means something along the lines of smasher of the dammed. You can just call it the smasher.
He looked the nomads up and down with a snobby look on his face and then came to me, who while I was sitting down was about as tall as the nomads. He looked at my sword and then my ring very closely.
“Where did you get that ring?” he demanded “It belongs to my friend.”
I had heard all I needed to know. “Correction it belonged to your friend.”
“How did you get it?” he asked with curiosity in his voice
“You know its funny you should ask; I ripped it off his cold dead hands as a memento. He was pretty tough .I wanted to remember the battle.”
A look of complete rage came on his face.
“Kill him Kill him!! Kill him!” was all he could manage to utter
His personal band of lackeys rushed in on me swords raised and in about 30 seconds a pile of body parts was spread in the surrounding area. They were tough as far as men go but it’s like throwing wood at a fire to put it out. At least the master of the cursed city wasn’t so stupid as to assume that such pathetic resistance would actually work on me.
I swung a massive blow to his ribs which simply managed to make my sword stuck in his thick form. He roared and we started to grapple. I broke free grabbing his legs and hurled him head first into a rock wall like swinging a tree or club. I still had a hold on his legs so I lifted him over my head and then smashed him head first into the ground and continued to smash him into things for a short time until his body went limp then I took my sword out and kicked him over the side of the cliff. When weapons don’t work some times you have to use your arms. I don’t really know how strong I am, I haven’t measured it at all, it’s just one of those things I never wondered about. I haven’t found a mountain peak or tree I couldn’t manage and I usually overpower anyone I face.
I thought he was finished at this point, but he started to roar so loud the earth started to shake. The next thing I knew his body broke apart and there was a huge Cyclone heading towards me. I’ve faced man eating evil spirits with implements of torture and shooting red hot projectiles at me, which really sting by the way. They were riding on the back of giant black demon tigers and lions and that wasn’t half as scary as this thing. I think the major difficulty was the fact that he surprised me, and quite frankly the idea of how to destroy a living tornado didn’t cross my mind at that time. Later some one suggested I could just throw a mountain at him. I mean that might slow him down, but I got a deep message that I shouldn’t continue fighting him. I don’t know why but something told me to leave. He wasn’t a Demon. I really don’t know what he was or what side he fought for, some one said he might have been an Elemental or something whatever the hell that is; I don’t even know if they exist. Well I mean I was starting at a living tornado but it could have been anything. All I know is I wasn’t supposed to kill him just then.