Tagnox of the Stone Hammer, long-distance forage scout and protector of the ngangna of the Makka Lukka Tuk Tuk Tuk tribe, knew something was amiss the moment the dead gnoll disappeared before his eyes.

Tagnox would by no means admit that he was a brilliant wemic. He did his job well enough, and had served the tribe's shaman faithfully since he was little more than a cub, but the truth must be told that he often forgot the way back to his people's lands on long expeditions, and had to ask directions from the tikis. When they chose not to answer, he often arrived several moons late. But despite his relative lack in the realm of intellect, Tagnox was a wemic possessed of great wisdom, and thus he was immediately on his guard when the savanna began to shimmer around him.

The warrior lifted his head and growled softly, tightening his grip on his obsidian skinning knife. Wherever he looked, the grasses moved, not as if a strong wind were blowing them, but as if the air itself was wavering. And the gnoll was unmistakably gone. The loss of his quarry made Tagnox's next snarl a bit fiercer. Gnoll meat was certainly not as sweet as gazelle, or as tender as zebranaur, but in the hot, dry summer, it was more than accept-

The gnoll, still lying relatively undisturbed on the savanna, was well past the point where it could hear anything. But if it had still occupied this mortal coil, it would have heard a quiet sound something like this:

Bamf.

The world before Tagnox's eyes went black.

This time, a full-blown roar escaped the wemic's massive chest, and the skinning knife went skittering away into oblivion as he reached for his stone hammer. Carved with symbols pleasing to the tikis and darkened with the life-blood of many an enemy and dinner, his weapon had never failed him. But this time, there was nothing to hit but darkness, and it didn't seem to bother it much. He rumbled again deep in his throat, this time lowering his tone. Something was slowly occurring to him. There was no reason to go galloping off like a herd of elephants, roaring his head off. He had heard legends before, when he was a cub, of wemics spirited away to the tiki realm and given tests of wisdom and strength. Trying to strike at them might just make them angry. Always a conscientious worshipper, Tagnox resheathed his hammer and padded around in a small, patient circle, waiting for light to find him again. After a few long moments, it did.

Tagnox was first aware of the sun, beating fiercely down on him, and then of the dust swirling into his face. He growled, sneezed, and waved his arms angrily at it. Then he realized that the roaring inside his head was not his own voice, nor was it actually inside. Bewildered, Tagnox looked up-- and up, and up, and up.

The world was full of wumpees.

This was not the Beastlands.

It did seem to be, however, the perfect time to gallop away and roar his head off this time, and he obeyed his instincts. He noticed, dimly, that there were other figures in this deep basin where he had found himself, and they were staring at him. Hoping they were tikis, and at least dimly afraid that they actually were, he veered away from them, trying to find a break in the sea of faces that surrounded him. The wumpees stood at the top of tall cliffs that rose all around him, and they were all yelling back at him. He was not accustomed to being yelled at. It was rather upsetting. His stone hammer was in his paws before he noticed he was drawing it; he skidded to a stop before one of the cliffs and swung a mighty blow at the sheer rock face. Above, the wumpees screamed down at him and shook their fists. Against all sense, they seemed happy. Tagnox was not happy at all. He roared and struck the wall again, this time rearing up to rake it with his front claws as well. The crowd shrieked. Tagnox roared. And just as he was about to strike at the cliff again, in utter futility, he felt something strike him on the right flank. He whirled, raising his hammer to administer a killing blow-- and found himself face to face with another wemic. Tagnox nearly dropped his hammer in surprise, but the pleasure of seeing another like him helped him gather his wits. He stood up tall, his yellow mane blowing in the dusty wind, and lifted one clenched paw into the air. A series of guttural, sharp barks escaped his throat.

"Brother!" Tagnox hailed the other wemic, in their language. "I see you too have been lifted to the sky by the mighty tikis. It is a great pleasure to be able to prove myself at your side. Together, we shall slay all of these fierce wumpees, and feast on their hearts at sundown. And then we shall return victorious to my homeland, and feast as well on a cowardly gnoll I slew earlier this--"

The other wemic, this one with a rather striking black mane and a large stone club, shouted something back at him, but over the clamor of the mob, it was impossible to hear. Tagnox struck himself on the chest, and proclaimed, "I am Tagnox of the Stone Hammer, garga of the Makka Lukka Tuk Tuk Tuk Tr--"

Something long and gleaming whooshed past Tagnox's head, neatly parting several strands of mane and effectively cutting off his introduction. The crowd's screams took on a harsher, greedier tone, as if there was something new they wanted more of. Startled, the wemic wheeled his large body around, and stared at the new threat before him. It wasn't as if he'd never seen what the wumpees called "me-tahl" before. He'd been close enough to wumpee land for that. He'd just never seen anyone completely made of it before. The shiny figure was tall, almost as tall as he was, and carried a long, gleaming stick that had a sharp edge, like his obsidian skinning knife, only more so. Tagnox nervously swished his long, tufted tail in the dust, and took a few uncertain steps back, putting his hammer between himself and the figure walking toward him.

"Greetings, proud moon-skin," the wemic called, although he was beginning to feel a little distressed. He'd never actually seen a tiki before, but he was fairly certain they weren't supposed to be covered with silver. "If it is my sacred duty to slay you, I shall, but first we must make a fire of good-smelling leaves and offer praises to the--"

Once again, the tall figure brought his weapon down, truncating Tagnox's speech and this time striking his stone hammer with a blow that rang all the way up into his massive arms. The wemic fell back a few more steps, until his rump hit the cliff face-- then, suddenly, his amber eyes flashed in the sunlight, and he snarled. Politeness only went so far, even in the tiki realm, and he hadn't been allowed to finish a sentence since he'd arrived there. Roaring, he swung his hammer with all the strength he possessed, ready to cleave the enemy's silver skin and splatter his guts in the swirling dust-- except that this time, that wasn't what happened.

Tagnox's fearsome hammer struck the figure squarely in the chest-- and rebounded, with a noise that hurt his sensitive ears: GONG. The impact was much worse than before, and a series of rattling vibrations surged up the wemic's body and all the way into his fangs. Tagnox howled in frustration and pain, and dropped his thrumming hammer. The enemy advanced a few steps, lifting his shiny weapon again. It was too much. As the wise ngangna of the Makka Lukka Tuk Tuk Tuk always said, "You cannot bite the rainy season." Tagnox of the Stone Hammer turned tail and fled.

"My brother! The tikis have gone crazy!" he shouted to the black-haired wemic, who was standing his ground against the silver man and just barely keeping him at bay. "Flee, my brother! We must find a way back to the Beastlands!"

As the enemy's shining weapon scythed down, ready to hew through club and wemic alike, Tagnox caught sight of other figures running onto the dusty field, the points of their spears winking in the sunlight. They were coming straight for him, and they did not look half as happy as the screaming crowd did. The other wemic blocked the fierce blow with his club, and launched a strike of his own. All around, the wumpees shrieked and waved their arms, as if the world had gone mad-- something, by this point, which he did not entirely doubt. Bereft of his hammer, hot, dusty, miserable, and utterly bewildered, Tagnox of the Stone Hammer sat down in the center of the arena and shouted to the pitiless sky, "Tikis! Why am I here? Tell me what you want me to do!"

This time, even without the fire of good-smelling leaves, the answer came at once.

"KILL HIM!"

The command rolled out of the stands above Tagnox like the voice of the world itself, so loud that it drowned out the wumpees' screams and rattled the cliffs surrounding the great basin. The silver warrior dropped his sword and clapped his hands to the sides of his oddly shaped head, staggering. All over, those watching the spectacle adopted the same posture, their mouths making O's of pain and their hands clutched to their ears. The other wemic roared silently and shook his paws at the sky-- and in the middle of all of it, Tagnox quietly got to his feet, switched his tail around, and smiled. Ah, of course.

He recognized the voice, and he remembered. This was just like the other times. It had been a long while, and he had almost forgotten exactly what it felt like, but now he knew what he had to do, and the world was right again. Pacifying the tikis could wait-- Tagnox of the Stone Hammer had been given his orders, and he knew exactly what to do. He wheeled his great lion's body around, and began galloping the way he'd come, back toward his hammer. It was time to act.

His ongaknakh needed him.


Footnotes:
  1. A ngangna is a witch doctor or shaman among the wemic people. Each tribe has at least one ngangna, who acts as healer, advisor, exorcist, and spiritual authority for the wemics, delivering their prayers to the tikis. The wemics consider ngangnas the only individuals fit to wield ongaknakh, the power of magic.
  2. Wemics are a race of lion-centaurs found on Kaerith and a number of AD&D worlds. They have the lower bodies of lions and an upper body with a mixture of leonine and human features. Wemics live in nomadic tribal socities on Kaerith, hunting gazelle and other savannah-dwelling animals. Their culture is Stone Age, and their favored weapons are stone clubs, knives, and spears, as well as their own claws. Wemics are often taken for stupid by more civilized races, but in fact are often as intelligent as humans, although their beliefs are fraught with superstition and they have little understanding of the ways of humans. Tagnox, although wise and brave, is usually taken for stupid by both standards.
  3. Two other primitive tribal races share the savannah with wemics: Zebranaurs (a zebra-bodied centaur of neutral disposition) and gnolls (large, evil hyena-men). Both are considered enemies and viable food sources by wemics.
  4. Wumpee is the wemic word for human. Most wemic experience with wumpees is with the tribal humans who dwell in the jungles bordering on the wemic savannahs. These beings are known to them as weak, cowardly creatures that live in trees, using stone swords and spears of inferior quality (by wemic standards). They use the same term for civilized humans but do not fully understand all the differences.
  5. Garga is the office of personal guard to the chieftan of a wemic tribe. Only the most skilled of warriors are permitted to be gargas, and to be chosen for this duty is a mark of great prestige in wemic society.
  6. The Beastlands, a vast savannah south of the Unorganized Territories on the continent of Kaerith, is the homeland of the wemics, gnolls, and zebranaurs. The realm is not ruled by any human potentate, and is host to a wide variety of African-like wildlife. It has not been fully explored and its full extent is unknown even to its inhabitants. Human merchants sometimes delve there in search of ivory, gold, and other precious resources.
  7. For those not present for the gaming session in which these events occurred, Tagnox was summoned to the arena by Flontara the Red, a fire elementalist, who then used a shout spell to order him to kill the emperor's champion. Flontara and Tagnox have known one another for some time, and she has summoned him regularly since their first meeting.
  8. The term ongaknakh among wemics refers both to the art of magic and an individual other than a ngangna who uses it. In the wemic conception, only ngangnas are fit to use magic by grace of the tikis, and ongaknakhs are generally hated and feared; Tagnox's friendship with Flontara is an exception to the norm.