Brass Giant
At the outskirts of a small forest village called Rumbling there stands a 3 meters tall man whose skin sheds a shimmer of brass. The eyes pierce the horizon with deep solitude, sclera orange and iris grey.
He wears naught but olive green loincloth of the forlorn fabric while the rest of his equipment rests neatly on the ground nearby, a heavily ornamented armor and a spear, both tossed in shades of green rust. He is introspective, to his mind the giant says:
“ On this planet, I am the only of my kind. By the words I hear, I may be the only giant in the entire reality. When was the last time they saw a person who could even witness yet alone create what we have.
Our cities of cor-iron, our statues crafted out of yar-kuryak bones, our mettle tested by countless clashes. Nobody even dreams of the things I’ve seen, finding themselves amazed at my perceived imagination.”
If not for my appearance, they would fully discredit me. But I care not for I know who I am and I know who we were. I am Bar Kassat, I am one of the three thousand brass giants that rose from the nameless desert and dubbed it a city. The one who was there when the foundation of the palace was placed and the one who was wounded to near death in the assault on the fanged-folk citadel mere days ago. My stories are plenty, my wounds are real, yet this world is not my own.”
The dislike of this fact has Bar Kassat lower his head. In hundreds of years of his life he’s never felt this amount of despair. Not only is the unknown all around, it’s depressingly dull too.
“I sit now, at the outskirts of a village. An impressive one despite its size. Each house built with brick which I’ve seen multiple disks around our proud planet use.
But Bar Kassat is a name that bears no meaning here. Even the most fringe of worlds would at least know of the brass giants even if their term for us differs. Harbingers of tomorrow, Those-Who-Grew-Tall, Yokeslayers, just some of many names I was made privy of through the language of the Stars . Hence, I may be dreaming.”
Bar Kassat tries to rationalise the world that strikes him as odd. At worst, it is the dullness of transition between life and death. The brass giants were rarely confronted with deaths of their kin, paying little attention to the concept.
But if death is this, then it makes sense why so many wish to live. Unable to accept the potential truth that he will have to persist in this world for any longer, Bar Kassat decides to find his own fun.
“These bones will run stale from all the talk with the locals. None of them make much sense and I’m not keen on learning a new world once over. So I asked them, using the language of the Stars, if there is a beast to hunt in these woods.
I got odd looks squarely focused on my spear, but nonetheless they invited me to hunt in the morning. Among their dwellings I see many odd instruments, some of which are bound to be weapons.
Certain ones bear shapes similar to the ones used by the men-of-mettle from the farther disks of our dear world. Armor-skinned sages who would no doubt inflict the same confusion I do. But that’s familiarity I need, talking to self bears little worth when sense doesn't seem to flow within the thoughts. ”
Bar Kassat will find himself in an uneasy bout of boredom for the remaining few hours. However, that tinge of familiarity does bind despair into a more bearable form for now. The binds should be made stronger come morning, for he knows there’s no better way to bond than through hunting.
It shows one's strength, dexterity, and awareness. All things one would fear in a foe. It will surely prove the meaningfulness of the brass giant and establish him as a powerful member of this community.
The morning comes through a shuffle of boredom, where Bar Kassat sits in the forest taking care of his spear and armor. Spear’s tip was crafted from the crowns of the four-headed king, whom Bar Kassat slew personally. The material wasn’t as strong as one used for the armor but nonetheless instilled fear through its storied past.
Armor was far more intricate. Made out of remains of a jumping star, it was one of four armors of its kind. The other three were worn by Bar Kassat’s superiors, who may still be fighting on their respective planets. Upon it were inscribed depictions of battles and beasts. Endless conflicts for glory and safety upon the sparking black sky.
Then, the hunting party comes. Three men in their 40s and a boy barely old enough to drive. Each wielding a gun whose subtleties escape Bar Kassat. Not even men-of-mettle used such weapons. Man offers him one but quickly learns that the towering warrior wishes nothing to do with it.
The rest of the hunt is pretty quiet for Bar Kassat. Despite his size he knew how to hide within the foliage and move in the steps of the wind which forgave each noise of his feet. A few odd animals fell to the guns here and there but Bar Kassat saw none worthy a stab of his spear.
As the hunting trip was winding to a close and the day proper started, the hunters took a rest. In the verdant forest each sound would ring out for hundreds of feet resulting in a pleasant and beautiful cacophony of a dozen different birds.
“Are you really a giant from space?”, asked the boy unprovoked. The elders seemed about ready to shush him before the brass giant responded.
“Space is to us just a sea, from there I am not. I am a body risen from sand on a planet whose name in your language means Gratitude. From land we were spawned, from it we built high, and to the shorter races we gave our aid”, Bar Kassat was more than keen to break the monotony of this trip with some history lessons.
“Then how come you are here? Are you here to take over the planet”, once again elders, now sweating, were ready to silence the boy but Bar Kassat heard the question already.
“We do not conquer, we fight with conquerors. Those who stand tall above others need to remember that some stand taller yet. No giant will come to take over your planet little one, and neither is that my purpose here”
The young one keeps asking more questions, elders having given up on silencing the inquisitive youth. They sip on moonshine and listen to the stories of the sparking black sky. Of horned people who’ve tamed the planet they live on, changing her own nature.
Tales of tiny six-legged creatures of the mountainous disks which ebb between planets with no gravity constricting them. Of disks themselves, which do not move, hanging around planets solemnly. More tales are split through the language of the Stars which emulates the rules of each language and notes they are different yet. Until, the rustle further on alarms the brass giant.
He jumps to his feet, spear in hand, before humans even have time to note the sound. It’s coming from the north and it’s approaching fast. By the time they start reaching for their guns the galloping rumble and rustling leaves give way to a visage of a huge bear. It leaps forward at the giant who lunges to the side. Following the dodge with pointing of his spear towards the massive mountain of muscles.
The bear wastes little time going for another attack which is quickly stalled by the spear going through its throat. It struggles for another few moments before the monstrous weight falls unmovingly onto the ground. As the beast slumps, Bar Kassat murmurs:
“Its eyes were crimson and its pupils gone. A known effect of the fanged-folk control”
He doesn’t say much both in and out of his mind. The hunting party hauls all the slain animals back to the village, bear included.
Bar Kassat bids the hunters farewell, leaving the bear with them. Though he is quickly directed to a nearby hut where they say a man is looking for him. There’s little reason for the bear-slayer not to go, curiosity goes hand in hand with his current concerned state.
It’s mighty dusty inside the hut. This one has not been cleaned up in months. The light is meager inside even though it’s daytime. With barely any light seeping through mostly closed windows and a naked lightbulb taking the center spot.
In the room with little furniture, in a wooden chair sits a man. Early 20s at oldest, with shoulder length wavy chestnut hair which drops down to a hare amulet around his neck. Dressed in a grey pullover and jeans, tapping on the table with an antique coin. While appearance is doubtless youthful, brass giant sees certain age and experience in the greyish-green eyes of the man.
“Good day and pardon my intrusion into your idyllic life.” ,the man says, “Word travels fast and it travels to me first and foremost. So I decided to pay a visit to the imposing giant at the fringe of society”
“What do you have to do with me, man of eerie eyes?”, Bar Kassat says, gripping the spear tight.
“I wish to learn of you and of your presence here”, the man stops tapping a coin “ and as introductions I should introduce myself, Nathan Sava. I am somewhat of an enthusiast of the odd and weird.”
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“Bar Kassat, brass giant of the planet your language calls Gratitude, slayer of the four-headed king. My presence here is something I’ve no knowledge of and you pour little confidence in me. I will hold this spear at my side as I tell you my story.”
Bar Kassat talks about the odd awakening in this world. The shapes that are wrong and skies that are blue. He tells of all that has transpired and then ceases for a bit.
“Do tell, Bar Kassat, what was the last thing you remember before waking up in this world?”
“A battle with the fanged-folk and their colossal slave-monsters. I had been jumped by two of their generals, Zurr and Krit. They bore their massive jaws into me as I fought back. One fell to the brute force of fist, while Krit and I tumbled further.”
“I see, I see, most intriguing still. Have you any clue whether this foe of yours has made the passage too?”
Bar Kassat stands and thinks. This man knows more than himself, playing around with the conclusion he already knows.
“I will tell you, if you tell me why you ask me so. Where does this inquiry come from?”
“Fine, I’ve naught to hide. I suspect you, the brass giant, to be an outsider of this reality. Slipping between its folds into the present. It’s something there’s no escape from unless a factor tying the outsider to the realm is removed.”
“And you would think this “factor” to be a fanged-folk general? With his death I’d be sent back?”
“In a way, yes. You’d be returned to where you once were.”, Nathan responds immediately.
“And you would offer aid in this goal?”, the brass giant says with faint doubt.
“Yes, I wish to observe at the very least”
What the man wanted to observe wasn’t any concern of Bar Kassat, instead he offered information. “I’ve slain its drone, a big bear, there ought to be a few more under Krit’s command. The general himself somewhere within the forest.”
“Would you lead me to the bear?”
“If you wish so”
The two leave, with Nathan keeping distance from Bar. Eventually reaching where the corpse was taken. It’s a butcher’s shop of sorts, partially sinking into the ground. As if to hide most of the gore of the job, entrance to the storage is in the basement. The two make their way in, with some guidance from one of the elder hunters, finding the gigantic bear quickly.
With little time taken, Nathan pulls out one of the knives in the house and cuts open the gullet of the bear. Takes an intestine in his hand and tracks across it with the edge of a knife. Stopping on a few occasions to mark a location.
He then wraps a papyrus parchment over it. Using the bloody imprints to then cross reference it on the map of the area. Finishing the process by draining a bit of blood into a vial. Nobody stops this entire process as Bar Kassat looms over the corpse and the man, dissuading any interruption.
“And thus, we found him.”, the young man smiles.
With a hint of a scowl Bar Kassat says, “Lead the way but, whatever the tricks of your trade are, keep them away from me. Brass giants have witnessed the occult of the scholar-kings and there’s little tolerance for that among my kin.”
“Means to an end, from my end. A faster solution than scouting the entire forest.”
“The repercussions of it entice me not.”
With that, conversation ebbs. The two making their way out of the butcher’s shop. “Come, I have secured transport already”, Nathan says leading Bar Kassat northwards.
A simple car and some logistics of the giant’s size later, the two are on the road for the forest. The giant only moderately confused by the contraption as his people have utilized similar vehicles, though wheels were a jarring choice from his perspective.
The truck is old and the road is rough, Nathan follows the map with rare glances at its bloodied canvas. As terrain gets vertical, inching into a hill, the road becomes far more bothersome to navigate. These roads are expanded goat trails, nothing made for traffic but occasional passage of rangers and high-dwelling villagers. But behind the next bend something more troublesome than rough road comes.
As that turn is made, a big ox smashes the side of the car. Inching the leftmost two wheels off the cliff. Now, hanging above a high pit, hangs this old truck. Brass giant and the odd-eyed man both at the edge of the boxed doom’s wavering side. The ox retreats, getting in position to charge again. Even in sudden shock of events Bar Kassat can see it’s another thrall of the fanged-folk general attacking them. His gigantic form makes exiting this contained vehicle difficult but he manages to push open the door as the car hangs. Yet his spear stays inside, urgency of the danger giving no time to pull it out.
Nathan is not as fast on his feet and by the time he comes to fully, the giant is already standing out front. Barehanded but armored, he stares at the ox as Nathan slowly makes his way to the safe side of the vehicle, still reeling from the smash.
Bar Kassat knows what will transpire should he move. The ox will smash into the car and knock it over, killing the accomplice the brass giant has made mere hours ago. Now, there’s ill in the odd-eyed man but the information that returning to his land is possible did ease the giant’s mind, which is why he felt obliged to do the following.
The ox has to be stopped, the giant knows. He spreads the arms wide, in a pose similar to earthly wrestlers. He then crouches, expecting the ox’s move. Ox ,after getting a decent distance, charges with intense bulk. More organised lunge is seen from the giant.
The two clash. Horn against metal, sinews against hooves, and hands against beastly mass. Impact is a victory for the ox as the giant reels back while holding onto it. Being pushed backwards, Bar leans with his entire weight on the creature, reaching with its hands around the bulk. They are a few feet away from the car when the giant’s hands connect around the beast.
He heaves, lifting the beast mere inches off the ground and pushing it back, carrying it in the most strenuous position. Hooves kick the empty air as giant adds distance between the car and the ox.
By the fifth or sixth step the ox buckles free, slamming the forearm of the giant with the mass of a beast of burden. However, the giant has an ally. One who has managed to escape the car through the window and took the time bought by the herculean feat of strength to retrieve a heavy weapon crafted out of the cosmic royalty’s crowns.
“Here’s your weapon giant, now let me keep the ox’s attention till you retrieve it”, Nathan says with labored breath while reaching to his side.
Bar Kassat wouldn’t allow beast reprieve if he wasn’t privy of skills mystics wield. With a small hop to the side he gives line of sight to Nathan while rushing to the spear. Ox wastes no time trying to gore both.
But suddenly its hooves feel locked in place. The legs are held in place by an overgrown hoof digging into the ground. Nathan holds a piece of cow skin in his hand, and a young flower covered in pupa goop within another, letting the ingredient drip from the flower onto the ground.
Incantations on his lips the ox is locked in place for a bit. Moments after, a spear severs its consciousness from the body. Brass giant’s swift jab has ended the tense scene.
“Well, I appreciate your expediency, otherworlder”
“Your spells mean little in such body”
“True, but it’s a worry for another day, another me. The map is fresh still, better use it.” Nathan gives over the canvas with dots of blood “we should run through the forest for the remaining mile. Your firm grasp oughta do better holding onto it.”
“So it shall be”
The duo takes a breath to refresh from the exhausting fight. Moving the truck back onto the road and into a safe crevice. Then, the two set off into the verdant green.
Travel takes far longer this way and dusk is approaching with incremental speed. There are thankfully no foes on their way and soon, a cave appears, the destination of their travel.
Bar Kassat and Nathan converse, hidden in bushes a considerable distance away. Distant enough to avoid detecting but with the slightest hint of visibility of the cave. The approach is unsure as there’s only a single entrance but it is doubtlessly secured. Eventually, the plan is thus:
“The fanged-folk fought me once, he shall do so again. I will bait them out and face them in combat as it comes. Should more thralls come, and one more should be about at least, I can only hope you can cover me, Nathan. Your magics may be of ill omens but their potency can’t be denied”
“So it shall be, all I ask is a moment or two for my hexes to secure my position. Bide time and I will help.”
Brass giant gives naught but the nod as he marches towards the cave. Imagining the encounter with the shor-shakals back in the first years of his life, a bandit band who all but killed the giant in a bashful melee of utter savagery on both sides. He is in front of the jaws of the cave as he exclaims in a booming tone:
“Krit! Come forth from the hiding spot and let us finish our fight in this maddening world.”
There is no answer but the sound of the tensing string. A second to the brass giant's ears before a whistle goes through the air, an arm comes up, and an arrow aimed at the throat is blocked by the forearm. Wound isn’t too deep but another pull of the string can be heard from inside.
The cave’s interior is the goal, the rush of combat will be inside. A few more arrows whistle past the giant as he crosses deeper into the cave. Bar Kassat has the awareness and agility of twirling serpent-stars on his side, providing just a moment's spare to react to each projectile.
Further in, a twist happens, as string snaps around his ankle a trap is triggered. From above fall rocks which batter and slow him down for another arrow to find purchase upon the brass body. This time it slips past the armor on the shoulder.
The giant’s eyes adjust to the dark. Spotting an elevation inside the cave, on top of which stands his foe. A creature of formidable stature, standing merely a foot or so below the brass giant himself.
Foe bears a hunch with leather armor covering it. His mouth and jaws are lined with teeth such as those of a saber tooth tiger. Hair red and unruly with growth down to his knees. Bow and arrow in hand, a last quality arrow remaining, he fires. Krit’s arrow is deflected by the spear as the giant cuts the distance between the two in half.
Krit snarls, pulling out a craggy club and a ramshackle shield. The two clash in a ferocious contact of metal against metal, battle cry against roar, and foe against foe. Fight rages inside as blows are traded. Krit’s club provides only defense against the giant whose technique makes spear and fist work in tandem. A tandem which would’ve struck the fanged general down had the wounds not slowed Bar Kassat down.
Bar Kassat is wary of another attack, one that comes from the jaws. One that does strike forward as soon as Bar Kassat tries to disarm Krit. The mouth spring forth with fangs that could cut lesser creatures in half, aimed at Bar Kassat’s head. However, a quick step to the side leads to fangs finding purchase on the shoulder instead.
It is a painful wound to take, but one that incites a counter attack. Bar Kassat has removed the club already and now digs the spear into the foe’s chest. Failing to kill but causing the shield to drop. Krit tightens the jaws while unleashing a reverberating roar.
And the forest rumbles, and the bird flies, and the bits of the cave crumble. Tremors echo for miles. At that same time Nathan walks into the cave with light steps. “It’s a whole herd, Bar Kassat, your enemy has taken control of the herd’s leader. All below them in the pecking order follow.”
Bar Kassat knows a stampede is unstoppable, even one ox has posed issue enough. The mouth of the cave is too wide to block, the stampede will come, and with Krit’s jaws so tightly clamped on his shoulder there’s no way to escape.
“Observe” Nathan says to both ferocious fighters.
The stampede rushes into sight, distant but approaching fast when suddenly, it stops. The aggressive trample turns into meek gallop and concludes by becoming a confused mob. Dispersing back into docile animals they were before.
“I foresaw the stampede, a vision from another world returning. Stopping it, well, that was just a matter of knowing.”
Krit is angered at his potent trick failing, he attempts to land another, deadly bite on the giant. Leaving himself open for just a moment too long. Even with wounds, the spear is fast enough to pierce the gullet of the fanged general. Who dies with merely a growl.
The silence and anticipation hangs in the air. Cave seems to provide no feedback. All hangs quiet. Then, Nathan perks up.
“It’s happening, Bar Kassat. You will be sent back to your own world. The muddling of our realities cleared.”, an excited tone declares.
“And how do you know?”, dubious tone rings from the giant.
“I was there, at the fold between the realities, a section of the alleyways betwixt. Hence my knowledge on the matter. I have witnessed odd images of monarchs, hares, snakes, and myrmidons. Of self-building paths of thought and the end of their knowledge. But until now I hadn’t witnessed the crossing between them in person. Thank you for the opportunity, and may we meet again in some other course of fate.”
Bar Kassat takes another moment to respond, to find the words. Questions, so many questions. But by the time he opens his mouth to speak, the brass giant is back on the battlegrounds. The corpse of the general is still at the end of his spear. Cadavers of both forces cover the grey streets of the fanged-folk citadel.
The allies, the tactics, the struggle against the encroaching forces, it all flows back. Bar Kassat grips the spear firmly, he will think of the visions of another world when peace of his halls is available. Until then, the brass giant fights, back to his rightful world of space-borne freedom.