fury road part 3

Red Fern

fury road part 3
Tuesday, August 11, 2015

chapter six: Sokka's father

                               The figure struck left, Nioir parried and returned with an overhand stroke. The figure dropped to the ground to avoid the swinging axe head, he rotated on his backside swinging his legs colliding with Nioir’s shins, knocking him to the ground as well the two men wrestled on the ground for several minutes, neither gaining an advantage until Nioir had an opportunity to grab one of the figure’s discarded knives, he rammed the weapon toward a fault in the figure’s armor he had found. Rather than make any attempt to block the weapon the figure merely placed two fingers on Nioir’s Forehead. Nioir felt his arm slip from his control, the knife stabbed into his thigh. Nioir fell back, screaming in pain.

                                The figure leapt onto Nioir, seizing the opportunity to exert exactly how superior he was to his opponent. He withdrew the knife, savoring the fleeting glimpse of fear he saw cross Nioir’s face.  He took Nioir by the throat and lifted him high above his head. Nioir struggled and clawed fruitlessly at the figures hand around his throat, the strangely soft skin burned his skin.  Nioir felt his consciousness slipping from lack of air. The ground began to tremble (or so it seemed )  A tremendous crack split the eerie silence the figure had accumulated a blinding bolt of lightning Nioir felt the Figure’s grip release and he fell to the ground, remaining conscious only long enough to see the figure bolt into the sky and out of vision.

                               Sokka paced nervously back and forth in his bedroom, contemplating what he knew was to happen in the coming days.

He had to go to Ombra's lair, and survive, but not only that, he had to convince him to shut up and lay low again. As he neared the top of the cliff he felt the aura of magic link to his core, pulling him in closer, ever closer. the entrance to the cave was a haunting six pointed star upon closer examination, Sokka realized upon closer examination that the shape was created by a series of stalactites and stalagmites at varying distances from the mouth of the cave itself, and only from head on view did they make the shape. taking a deep breath Sokka entered the dank smelling cave, the temperature dropped several degrees as he stepped inside the mouth of the cave, mustering his courage he moved on. This is it, This is where my father died

           His father was called away by the phoenix king to council with Ombra some twenty years ago, when Sokka was only twelve, and had never returned. Being the man of the house, and having to provide for his mother and younger sister rarely left time for Sokka to study the art combat and other things dear and essential to his culture when his mother died, Sokka’s general sense of hope died with her. Sokka never married, and never fell in love.

           Sokka was jarred from his thoughts when he felt water seeping through his boots. He looked around, confused, to realize he was knee deep water, something bumped him, Sokka whirled around confused and startled a man in a willowy black, threadbare robe stood in a narrow canoe. One thought escaped Sokka’s mouth,

           “Who are-“

           “Not Ombra, but I can take you to him”

Sokka nodded and nervously and stepped aboard, the small craft, nearly falling over from the rocking resulting from his weight. Sokka sat down embarrassed that he had not expected the rocking.

           The small vessel proceeded swiftly through the lake and down a narrow waterway descending deeper and deeper into the heart of the mountain.

Sokka was awoken (as he had drifted off without noticing) by a soft thud as the boat made contact with the bottom of the water

           “Ombra will not be long” said the man

Sokka got into the ankle deep water and waded to the shore, made of cold, hard stone. He looked around the room it was roughly 30 feet in diameter, dimly lit by four torches, equally spaced across the circular wall, the smell reminded Sokka almost of pine, or rather moss. Littered around the room were weapons and armor and other hero paraphernalia. Sokka turned to face the boat man, only to be met with the sight of an empty water way

           Turning around Sokka’s eye was diverted by a glittering helmet with the inscription of a boar head on it, picking it up he inspected it more closely, it was of the southern nomad-monks, the exquisite workmanship made that clear, the monks, particularly the southern tribes were both known and feared for their especial skill in metalworking and battle skill. Setting the helmet down Sokka,s eye was diverted to a familiar weapon, a long sleek sword with a blue sheath boasting intricate gold designs. Sokka dropped the sword, refusing to accept it,

No, he thought, it isn't his

    Sokka turned around to face the sword, I have to know, he told himself, picking up the sword he drew it an inch out of the sheath. engraved on the top of the black blade was a single word, Dreki Herra Bato, sokka bit his lip, fighting back tears.

Bato was his father's name,

underneath the name was a detailed enscription of a dragon, Bato was the lord of the western kingdoms and answered only to the Phoenix King, for this rank he was given the honorary title, the dragon of the west, and as such was to be addressed as Dreki Herra, meaning, dragon king in their language.

    “So you finally know the truth” a sinister voice spoke from across the room

    Sokka turned around to see a tall figure, dressed in the same black robe as the boat man, but this one was soft and seamless, as opposed to the boatman’s ragged threadbare one, all sokka could make out for a face was a dull metallic beak protruding past the shadow of his cowl and curving towards the cold stone floor.

    Sokka's confused mind failed to put a sentence together

    “i did knock”


    “you are hardly a polite guest, intruding in my house and then asking me who I am?”

    Sokka sensed a smile beneath the mask “you know who I am”

    “you, you killed him”

    Ombra did nothing and merely posed a simple question “Sokka, that's your name isn't it?” he didn't give sokka the opportunity to reply “my favorite prisoner always talks about you, convinced you would come to avenge him, i guess failure runs in the family”

    sokka drew his father’s sword and slammed Ombra against the stone wall and stated with a deathlike chill of fury in his voice “where’s my father”

    Ombra pushed back, slamming him onto the ground, Sokka found that he could no longer control his limbs as he stopped writhing and was held still. ombra walked in a circle around Sokka’s body.

    “the phoenix king sent you didn't he” ombra knelt down to examine the lion's pelt “fine material really, i think i’ll sport it quite well, lion pelts look good with black don't they?”

    sokka spat at his feet, resulting only in having his arm twisted at a painful angle

    Ombra tugged on the pelt softly, after realizing it was bound to him said, “If you won't give it to me,” ombra released sokka and shoved him to the black clad figures that had engulfed the perimeter of the room “i’ll cut it off of your rotting corpse, put him with Bato”

    The black figures groping hands seized him as Sokka lost consciousness