Always looking for adventure, Barbarian hero Hoff agrees to accompany his traveling companion to the fabled city of Xiwome, home of the legendary Queen Liezuka. But he quickly discovers that legand and fact can be a long way apart.
Hoff leaned on the pommel of his broadsword, panting slightly. Around him were scattered the remains of seven would-be assailants. The other five had fled shrieking in fear as they realised the gravity of their mistake.
The barbarian hero wiped the sword carefully on the long grass, before he checked it for damage and returned it to the scabbard at his waist. He wore only the belt, a loincloth, and a sleeveless leather jerkin that hung open to reveal the bronzed muscles battling for space on his torso. Having stowed his blade, Hoff took a long drink from the waterskin at his hip and sluiced the blood from his arms and legs. Then he gathered the fallen and stacked them in a neat pile at the edge of the clearing, sat down, and lit a small fire.
"It's all right," he called. "You can come down now."
There was a rustle in the tree opposite. Hoff's eyes never left it as he prepared his meal, making sure the scent wafted in that direction.
"Of course, if you're not hungry --"
The rustle came again. Hoff was cooking the leg of some beast he had caught and strangled the day before, and as he lifted it out of the fire the smell of charred meat was irresistible. Clearly the watcher in the tree thought so too, for as Hoff sank his teeth into it the stranger dropped from the branches to land lightly on his feet before him.
"Mine?" The man's mouth opened very wide, to reveal sharp teeth and a neat pink tongue that flicked over his lips.
"If you want some." Hoff ripped the haunch in two and tossed half of it to the stranger. He had the chance to observe the man as he sat back on his knees. He sniffed the meat all over, very carefully , and nibbled at the end of it as if his previous enthusiasm had been nothing more than a sham. He was fat, with a pronounced belly that overhung his short trousers, and his arms and legs were so thickly haired they looked almost furry. His nose was small and flat, his eyes were slitted, and over the shorts and shirt he wore a long sleeveless robe, rich crimson where it wasn't stained with mud. He held a small satchel tightly between his knees, half crouched over it as if he feared Hoff would snatch it away.
Interesting "sword and sorcery" piece. The Character is very Conan-ish, and the "voice" draw one quickly into a world of brutal reality where chest thumping and monster slaying lie in wait, along with a tavern wench or two. This contrasts well with the lightly humorous tone.
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