It is, I‘m told, natural for one to grow nostalgic as one ages. Like many others I look back with wistful fondness upon my youth and childhood. But I have also found myself immersed in reminiscences that are not connected with any events of my lifetime. Visions I would dismiss as daydreams or phantasms were it not for their vividness and the absolute conviction I have that I lived these events as surely as I attended grade school and enjoyed my first kiss. One such vision that forced itself upon me is a memory from when I was Diyang-Buru of the Stork Folk.
The Stork Folk were diminutive people, barely reaching the waist of a modern man, sallow skinned with shaggy manes of ebon hair. We were the last pathetic remnants of a once great civilization, hurtled back to near apedom by decadence and cataclysm. No more did we dwell in sprawling, subterranean cities where we made art, music, and shrewd schemes of statecraft, now we squatted in caves and mud huts scattered across a chain of small islands, hunting the Tusked Ones and the giant storks from whence we took our name.
As Diyang-Buru, I had earned renown among my people through my prowess at hunting. I was a solitary soul, and while I did not hate my people, I had some strange awareness of how far my once noble race had fallen, and was subconsciously repelled by their proximity. I would range far from our crude village for weeks at a time, often traveling in a dugout to other islands that were distant by the primitive reckoning of Diyang-Buru. There I would track and kill any number of exotic beasts. I had returned from one such odyssey, laden with the drying meat and hides from a great armadillo-like beast I had slain, when I found my village in an uproar.
A slavering, red-eyed menace had come to plague the Stork Folk in my absence. A colossal hairy brute, a mountain of sinew that set upon hunting and gathering parties and, with huge, mallet-like fists, crushed the tiny Stork Folk to bloody pulps. The men of the Stork Folk sought to contend with the beast to no avail, and attempts were made to appease this creature, cumulating with the offering up of children and maidens as sacrifices. These offerings were ignored, and the attacks in the forest continued. Now the Stork Folk huddled behind a crude bulwark of thorny bushes and lamented.
I was incensed! I condemned my people for offering up our young as sacrifice to this demon! Not since our decadent ancestors made grisly offerings to foul Gullah and demonic Xultha had we abased ourselves in such a manner. I brandished my spear and flint dagger, and swore inviolate oaths to The Dark Man and Kouzouhept that I would hunt and slay this great beast, and feast upon its liver.
I retired to the hut of one of my women and slept, rising before dawn the next morning. I prepared myself in the usual manner, bathing in the nearby stream, then painting the proscribed symbols upon my face and body with moistened ashes from the fire. I carefully coated the tips of two spears with the fermented juice of the lumpu berry, a powerful narcotic. Then, thrusting my dagger into my rawhide breechclout, and taking up the spears, I set off into the forest.
I moved as quickly as I dared, for though I was anxious to come to grips with my foe, I had to be mindful of the other denizens of the island. There were hulking carnivorous lizards, great, savage tree rats, and the giant storks that were both prey and menace to my diminutive people. My caution seemed unfounded, for there was no sign of any other creature stirring in the forest save for myself. The idea that this new terror had driven the forest life into hiding filled me with dread, yet I pressed on. At length, In a clearing between two massive evergreens, I arrived at the aftermath of the demon’s fury.
The ground was riotously trampled and churned, and still spattered with the blood and brains of my people. Stifling my growing rage, I sought out the animals tracks among the chaos. They were not hard to find. They were massive, longer than my arm and at least ten handbreadths wide, sunk deeply into the loam. They were obviously footprints, but showed an opposable digit like one might expect on an ape. Here and there were impressions of knuckles where the thing must have dropped to all fours. I took in the air with my keen nostrils. There was an musky, alien reek heretofore unknown upon the isle of the Stork Folk, strong enough as to have not been obscured by the stench of spilt blood.
The scent and tracks were simple for me to follow when I was Diyang-Buru, in fact, had I looked upon that riotous spoor with the dulled senses of my current guise of Brian Conrad I could have followed them as easily. The creature had made no effort to hide its trail, trampling the underbrush, snapping off branches, and uprooting saplings. It seemed to have hurdled thought the forest like a juggernaut. The tracks led me deeper into the forest and uphill. The beast must have made a lair in the rocky cliffs that jutted from the center of the island. There it would find shelter in one of the caves peppering the area, and fresh water from one of the several waterfalls that plummeted among the rocks.
At about midday, I came to area where the trees thinned substantially,giving way to grassy, rolling hills. Here I paused, taking in what lie before me. At about two spearcasts away there was an outcropping of column-like rocks, some leaning at angles to provide a goodly amount of shade. Under one of these I at last laid eyes on my quarry.
He was an immense brute. Even crouching he was a good five times my height. Ten of my people standing side by side, arm’s breadth apart, could scarcely have spanned the immensity of its shoulders. Its hide was dark and leathery, where it was not covered in coarse, reddish hair. Yellow eyes glowered from under its sloping brow. It chewed upon a stalk of vegetation it gripped in its enormous hands, it’s heavy jutting jaw working furiously. It paused eating and swiveled it bestial skull about, wide nostrils flaring. Had it smelled me? Did it even now sense my presence? Would it soon hurtle toward me like an avalanche and smash me to bits?
Primal, naked fear gripped me. The modern, educated mind of Brian Conrad recognized the thing as the Gigantopithecus, a giant primate of antiquity who’s nature and very existence is much debated among paleontologists, but as Diyang-Buru I saw only that horrid, infernal gorilla-god that was worshipped and dreaded under a host of names; Xultha! Gullah! Urangh Pantak! Bane of my people! It was my mandate to destroy it!
Filled with rage and purpose, I was able to force down the fear that threatened to unman me. I looked for a path that would allow me to approach Gullah unseen. (for I now named the beast such, having laid eyes on it’s hateful, monstrous aspect.) While a single creature of my diminutive stature might escape his notice, I dared not risk exposing myself early. I had to get close enough to drive home at least one of my drugged spears, then retreat to safety while the narcotic lumpu juice took hold. Once Gullah slumbered, I could cut his throat at my leisure.
Making a wide circle, I approached from the opposite side of the rock that sheltered my prey. I came from downwind that my sent might be carried away from his wide nostrils. Though the ground was strewn with loose rock, the light, stealthy footfalls of Diyang-Buru dislodged no rocks,and whatever slight noise I might have made was covered by the wind and the dull roar of the nearby waterfalls. I crept around the rock. I heard the breathing of Gullah and a scuffling sound as he shifted his bulk. At last I stood before him, within the reach of my spear. It was as though I stood before an immense wall of reddish hair. I could feel the heat emanating from his hide and his bestial stench assailed may nostrils. I forced my mind to concentrate on the task at hand. Selecting an area on Gullah’s back below the ribs, a charged, driving my spear deep into his torso.
My spear was tiny when compared to the immensity of Gullah, and I did not strike anything vital, but the smallest trace of lumpu juice was enough to paralyze a giant tree rat or stork, and the spear I had plunged into the massive simian was smeared with tenfold that amount. Gullah shrieked as I drove my spear home and lurched up on bandy legs to destroy the source of his discomfort.
I had underestimated Gullah; he moved speed and agility that belied his vast bulk. I narrowly escaped his grasping fingers as I scampered up to the top of his stone shelter. As he climbed after me, I felt his breath and droplets of spittle upon the flesh of my back. Then, I turned abruptly and threw my second spear straight into his gaping maw.
Gullah roared in pain and clawed at the spear jutting from his mouth. I allowed myself a bark of satisfaction as I scampered down the rocks and ran for the woods. Gullah now had enough lumpu juice in him to fell a herd of the Tusked Ones. I allowed myself a backward glance as I passed through the treeline. The colossal ape tore the spear from it’s mouth and hurled it aside, then charged after me in a flurry of iron-thewed limbs. I cursed and invoked my primitive deities and sprinted deeper into the woods, leaping felled trees, hurdling gullies and clambering over boulders. All the while the tumult of Gullahs mad pursuit grew nearer behind me.
Suddenly, I burst out of the trees onto smooth, damp stone. I lost my footing and slid, tumbling over a cliffs edge and nearly fell, narrowly catching myself at the last heartbeat by the tips of my fingers. I crawled back up and took stock of my surroundings. I had stumbled onto a rocky ledge adjacent to a great waterfall. The great torrent fell from some impossible hieght above and plunged an equally dizzying distance below. All was swathed in a cool, white mist that sparkled silverly and reflected myriad rainbows.
A grunt behind me caused me to turn. Gullah emerged from the trees. The massive ape was slumped over, his breath coming in ragged wheezes and his drooling jaws were slack. The gaze he lay upon me was dull and bleary, but I could still read purpose there. The lumpu juice was doing its work, and soon the savage ape would fall insensate, but not before he had slain his tormentor. I had but on chance, to goad him into charging recklessly and leap out of the way in hopes his drug-addled, clumsy flight wold send him plummeting into the abyss. I drew my flint dagger and howled at Gullah, challenging him to come claim my life. He himself up on his hind legs and pounded his immense chest. The sound was like a thousand thunderclaps and shook my bones. Gullah let out a stentorian bellow and charged.
I ran head-on at the juggernaut. At the last second I leapt, seeking to hurdle over Gullah’s head and land behind him, but again, I underestimated the speed and dexterity of the colossal ape. He reached up and seized me, crushing me to his hairy breast. I felt my ribs and spine giving way as I was constricted by the enormous arms, thick as tree trunks. But my right arm was free, and with it I drove my stone dagger into Gullahs corded neck!
Hot blood gushed from the wound, and Gullah howled in rage, further crushing me. But even as the agony of my breaking bones washed over me, I laughed, stabbing the slayer of my people again and again. Gullah thrashed about. Unwilling to release his death grip on his tiny tormentor, and succumbing to the effects of the drug coursing through his veins, he lost his footing. Unable to right himself, we careened off the cliff and plunged down the waterfall.
My last memories as Diyang-Buru were of the coolness of the mist on my skin, the marvelous rainbow hues, and savage exaltation as I plunged my dagger one last time into the flesh of the God-Ape.
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