The Way of a Zalkhein

[Behemoth]

Solo; PM me if you think you want in
Judges: This is a history thread, Bhakti'mat's personality and appearance might not be exactly as I described them.
The mid-morning sun beat down upon the windswept sands of southeastern Fallien. Few souls ventured this far into the desert; those that did were likely either determinedly insane or insanely determined. Many were both. The sands practically boiled with heat, mirages were not uncommon in this area of the country. Lagai jumped out of the sands and then plunged back in to stalk any prey they had seen. The drake-like beings attacked anyone not taken by the sun; it was a fierce contest between the two.

Regardless of the dangers, one man stood beneath the blazing sun and barely flinched when the tormenting winds blasted him with sand. It was his job to protect his homeland and he would do it without question. His name was Bhakti’mat Zu’ura.

Bhakti’mat was one of seven Zalkheins set to guard the border between Fallien and Dosidica, the home of the gigases. Each guard was responsible for ensuring that no humans, elves, dwarves, harpies, nor any other manner of creature entered the sacred lands. Mother Aditipazu, the leader of the gigases, had given each an amulet bearing both her crest and the mark of their station. A Zalkhein was little more than an exile that the gigases wanted to keep close.

In Bhakti’mat’s case, he was the bastard son of Mother Aditipazu and one of her human lovers. He was a half-breed, an outcast in both societies. However, the simple man rarely minded; he enjoyed the lifestyle that being a Zalkhein afforded him. The desert wilderness allowed him incalculable opportunities to test himself. Whether he was hunting for food, guarding Dosidica, or fighting the occasional adventurer, Bhakti’mat kept himself in top physical condition. He had often compared himself to the occasional traveler that had stumbled upon his station; seeing their weakened conditions made him feel that much better about himself.

The dark-skinned half-gigas was easily two feet taller than any of the humans had been and his musculature had inspired them with fear. His skin acted as his armor, protecting him from the sun and the sands. Still, he wore a plain vest made from hide to keep his personal effects on his person at all times, loose leather pants for protection from the elements, and heavy boots that he used both in exploration and combat. His life was free from the complexities that humans often had as well as the constant hostility that consumed the gigas clans. Bhakti’mat, the exile, had more freedom to do as he pleased than anyone else on the island.

On this particular morning, Bhakti’mat spotted two dark stains moving toward his position across the white sand. His piercing blue eyes focused intently on making out their forms, but they were still too far away to make out. Moving away from the entrance to the underground guard station, the Zalkhein stalked across the dunes to his right. His battle sense kicked in, making him intensely aware of everything going on around him while focusing him at the same time. His breathing came slower and deeper with each breath as he sank into the role of hunter. And these were his prey.

Sand churned beneath his dark leather boots as he sprinted across the dune, keeping his body low as he circled around the side. He spotted a rock jutting from the ground not too far away and adjusted his course to duck down behind it. The sand was cooler here and Bhakti’mat enjoyed the refreshing break from the seemingly inescapable heat as he surveyed the sands once again.

There they were, the black stains moving ever closer to Dosidica. He didn’t wonder why they were there, he only concerned himself with the fact that they were not allowed to be. To be a Zalkhein was to obey, to be single-minded in purpose, and to never question. These were values instilled in Bhakti’mat since he was young; values that he would not soon forget.

As the stains came closer, the dark-skinned guard was finally able to discern what they actually were. A human male and a human female dressed in sheer silk robes struggled through the sand. Bhakti’mat pushed off the rock he had been hiding behind and launched himself across the open sand between them. So focused were the two travelers on just continuing forward that they never saw the behemoth closing in. By the time the woman looked, it was too late.

The Zalkhein leapt from the top of the nearest dune, one leg stretched out before him and the other tucked back behind him. A massive fist cocked at the ready, he veritably flew through the air toward his targets. The fist hit her in the right temple, plowing into the thin flesh like a thrown rock. She instantly dropped to the sand and her male companion turned to see what had happened. Bhakti’mat landed almost silently, using his momentum to send his body in a tight pivot as he crouched low.

The man’s eyes were wide in terror as the hulking man before him exploded from his low position. The half-gigas’s fist connected in a vicious uppercut to the man’s jaw, sending him flying backward into the dunes. A scream escaped the traveler’s lips, for he knew he was doomed. The dark-skinned hunter closed in quickly, his longer legs closing the distance easily before the man could rise. A meaty fist grasped the man’s shirt, pulling him straight up in the air so that he looked straight into the piercing blue eyes of the Zalkhein.

“I am - ” the man never finished his sentence for Bhakti’mat’s other fist mashed his nose into his face, ending his life in an instant. The guard tossed the man over his shoulder and walked slowly back to where the woman lay. She was merely unconscious, her dark hair splayed across the ground like a fan and her chest rising and falling with every labored breath she drew. The guard gazed on her features before bending down and scoping her up in his arms. His work was done; time to return to his station.

[Behemoth]

He dropped the two bodies on the floor and turned back to shut the door. The guard station was back in a large sand dune, which kept it cool and protected it from the elements. As he forced the heavy door back into its place, the dark-skinned Zalkhein spat sand from his mouth. The damnable stuff was everywhere; such was the curse of the desert. Turning about to face his charges, the tanned titan felt a wave of uneasiness was over him. Who were these two?

It was gone as quickly as it had come and Bhakti’mat was glad. It was not his place to wonder such things; he simply protected Dosidica from attack and served Mother Aditipazu unquestioningly. He knew nothing else. Hell, he was convinced there was nothing else. Men would never be leaders in Fallien and it was foolish to think otherwise. No, the simple half-gigas was content with where he was.

He approached the travelers cautiously, for the woman could come to at any moment. Kneeling down so that he could look more closely, the desert warrior began searching their clothes. A few baubles and jewelry adorned the man’s robes, but Bhakti’mat found nothing else of interest. No weapon, no exit pass, no provisions, the brute observed, then muttered, “He either stupid or brave.” Rolling the man’s lifeless body over, he saw a scroll tucked into his belt. Pulling it free, the guard set it aside with the rest of the items. Mother Aditipazu would want to see it.

Leaving the man where he was, the hulking man moved onto the woman. She had several earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and rings, but she too carried little else. The guard found himself wondering what they had been doing again, but quickly shook the question from his mind. He needed to focus on doing his job. Rolling her onto her face also, he searched the rest of her person for additional items. When he found nothing, the dark-skinned fighter rose from his crouched position and scanned the room for rope.

Thick cord lay draped over a peg on one of the walls and Bhakti’mat dropped it to the floor near the woman’s body. Her breathing remained deep and slow; she wouldn’t wake anytime soon. Lashing both her wrists and her ankles together, the desert warrior rolled her onto her back once more. He pulled a square of cloth from one of the pockets of his vest and rolled it into a loose ball. Stuffing the cloth into her mouth and securing it with a loop of cord, the half-gigas felt confident that the woman would remain bound even if she came to. Smiling to himself, he reviewed his handiwork. Mother would be pleased.

Running one last length of cord through the knots at her wrists and ankles, the behemoth secured her to a peg driven into the ground. She would not even be able to get into a sitting position with the cord as tight as it was. Confident that his knots would hold until he returned, Bhakti’mat gathered their belongings, stuffed them in a burlap sack, and headed back out into the desert.

Pausing just outside of the guard station, the Zalkhein scanned the dunes around him, mentally tagging the place when he needed to return. Although the man was simple, he knew how to navigate the ever-shifting dunes of the desert better than anyone. Using the glaring sun as his guide, he pushed ahead even as the winds began to pick up. Until a sandstorm hit, the half-gigas knew his leathery hide would protect him from the stinging grains. Shouldering the bag, Bhakti’mat Zu’ura headed north toward Sarpa’s guard station. Two hours away.

[Behemoth]

Sarpa Malim was an anomaly. He stood nearly ten feet tall and was built like a tree. He was a full-blooded gigas, but Mother Aditipazu was uneasy about his form. And so he had been given command of a Zalkhein guard station. Mother’s word was law.

The lean man was also unlike his meatier brethren in that he did not enjoy senseless violence. Of course, he understood the need to keep intruders out of his people’s ancestral home, but that served a purpose. Killing just to prove that you could, well that didn’t sit well with him. He was more of a tinkerer.

That was why Bhakti’mat Zu’ura had trudged his way north to find Sarpa. The dark-skinned titan stood atop a dune and surveyed his fellow Zalkhein’s station. Many traps were laid out around the building, preventing enemies from sneaking up on the man. Even the keenest intruders would unknowingly set off many of the alarms that activated inside the gigas’ station. Within minutes the lanky guard killed them and reset whatever they had triggered. The method worked for him, but Bhakti’mat preferred his way.

He picked his way carefully down the dune, but wasn’t surprised at all when the door opened for him. Sarpa’s gigantic frame ushered the half-gigas inside and the behemoth was glad to accept. Even with his tough skin the sandstorms had irritated him. “What brings you all the way up here?” Sarpa asked as he closed the door.

“I need my Halgara,” he responded simply. The Halgara was a firearm given to him by his human father the last time he had seen the man. It was a giant-sized weapon, weighing nearly one hundred pounds. However, it didn’t fire. Months ago, Bhakti’mat had brought the gun to Sarpa, hoping that the handy gigas would be able to fix it. Launching projectiles at intruders would be far easier than attacking them.

“Unfortunately,” Sarpa Malim responded morosely, “I do not have all the parts required to fix the gun.” He motioned toward a side room in his station, indicating that Bhakti’mat could have a look. “There are many parts that will be difficult to find in Fallien.” The desert warrior sighed; he had been planning on using that gun soon.

“I’ll take it with me,” he told Sarpa and the taller man nodded.

“Let me make you a list,” he said, searching around for paper. “That way you can try to find the parts next time you’re in Irrakam.”

“Fine.” After several minutes, Bhakti’mat had secured the gun to his back and put Sarpa’s inventory list in his pack. With a blanket draped over the gun, he hoped that he could prevent sand from getting into the smaller compartments of the weapon. Never going to happen, he thought. Can’t escape the sand.