Sarangi: Origin
“That fatherless son of an auroch!” Sarangi yelled at the boat leaving the shore, “Don’t you frakkin’ leave me here!” She turned to see the approach, tentative at first, of the fishermen that lived in the town that Sarangi and her tribe had just raided. The townsmen, realizing that this wasn’t a trick – the Northmen had really left one of their women behind – continued to move closer. Still, she was a northern woman and had a huge two-handed sword strapped to her back within easy reach, so they approached her cautiously.Not cautiously enough. Sarangi, quickly realizing that she had truly been left behind, and in danger, roared and pulled her huge sword in one motion. Not giving the fishermen a chance to parley, she completed the draw of her weapon and followed through, hacking deeply into the upper chest of the nearest man. He was dead before he even hit the ground. Sarangi saw men approaching from all sides. Her sword pulled with the man as he fell, but her grip held firm and she yanked it from his cooling form, a fountain coating those close to the poor soul.
She felt the rage well inside her; uncontrolled anger at Vjangi, the one that had left her here to die. She could see the anger of the villagers, the hatred plain on their faces. They thought they could get some vengeance with the one left behind… but they were wrong. With an explosion of sound and movement, Sarangi leapt into the midst of a group of men, her blood coursing hot. The men were afraid now and unsure of their course of action. Their delay cost one his life and then another. To a man, they decided that killing this one woman, if they even could, would not be worth the price of the additional loss of life.
The crowd parted, allowing the enraged barbarian woman to leave unmolested. But Sarangi was fully into the rage now. She would have been hard pressed to stop even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. The crowd screamed as if it was one creature when she took down another villager. Panic set in and the realization that this wild-woman from the frozen north was not going to leave peacefully dawned on those nearest her. They tried to flee, but there were others behind them that did not see the woman; red hair and red-drenched sword flying wildly.
Many people died that day, and Sarangi remembered little of it. She did remember Vjangi, though, laughing and waving a one-fingered salute to her as they left her stranded on the beach. She decided not to return to her tribe; she had never been accepted by the members, not even her own family. It had been difficult to grow up as a head-strong woman in that male dominated society. She had been talented enough to follow any course she chose, but she had chosen the one course that was closed to her. She wanted to be a warrior.
She was denied again and again. Intelligent enough to know when to pick her battles, she decided to train herself. She would watch the young men, boys really, learn to use the weapons of the tribe; axe, mace and sword. She decided to be grander than them all and chose to train with a huge sword that required two hands to wield. Not even the grown men used such a large sword. At first she trained with wood; branches taller than she was. It had been difficult to get a sword for her to use, but she was fortunate and found a large sword looted from one of the villages to the south.
She stole the weapon and trained every day with it; secluded from everyone. No one missed her; in fact they were glad she was not around to ask troublesome questions or press her “right” to be a warrior. Many years had passed and although she continued to be harassed by the other boys around her age, as she became stronger and tougher, the teasing became more and more infrequent. At least from the boys. As she approached maturity, the men began to harass her and tease her; making jokes and putting pressure on her family. Her father hated her and ignored her whenever possible. Her mother was little better; constantly trying to convince her to take up one of the “accepted” trades of the woman. Sarangi would have none of it. She eventually made her own tent a short distance from the tribe and cared for herself.
She enjoyed her self-imposed ostracism. It allowed her to focus on those things that were important to her. Finally, just before her sixteenth summer, she challenged the lead boy to a duel. The terms of the duel were simple: If she won, she would be allowed to join the raiders and go on the longboats to plunder the villages in the south. If she lost, she would do whatever the tribe demanded. The elders debated for days whether or not to allow this. They were worried she would win. The warriors of the tribe held no such allusions; there was no way a woman could defeat a man in combat. They were eager for the battle and took wagers on how long the fight would last and whether she would be killed. The warriors put a large amount of pressure on the elders to allow the fight.
Finally the elders agreed; but on one condition. If she were to be seen as the equal to a man, she would fight a man, not a boy. How the tribe cheered at this news. The men began bragging about who would be the one to put Sarangi in her place. It was decided that one of the men who had finished their first year as a warrior would fight her.
The day of the battle drew near. The man had been chosen. Thorden, son of Rem, would fight her. Thorden was a well liked man in the tribe. It was thought that he would be a raid leader in as few as three years. He had a group of men around him that looked up to him. The foremost of those was Vjangi. Vjangi had been one of the older boys that had been the meanest to Sarangi as a girl. He was a bully, but unfortunately was also a great warrior and Thorden’s best friend. This only emboldened him to commit horrible acts against Sarangi, knowing that he would never be punished; no one in the tribe liked Sarangi.
As the day approached, Vjangi became more and more excited and was often heard boasting that Thorden would kill Sarangi in less than ten seconds. She new that Thorden was going to try to kill her. Even if she were beaten, if she put up a good enough fight, she may encourage others to break out of how things are supposed to be. But if she was killed… that would be a meaningful lesson to any other women that had any bright ideas.
Finally, the time of the battle had arrived. The two combatants entered the circle. A hush fell over the crowd when Sarangi entered with her huge two-handed sword. Then someone snickered and then everyone was laughing at her. Sarangi, did not react, in fact she used the anger she was feeling toward the crowd and directed it toward her opponent.
Thorden entered the circle and twirled his paired axes. The crowd cheered for their champion against the upstart woman. Sarangi looked at the man; he was handsome and tall, towering over her at six feet, three inches. He had long blonde hair pulled back into a fighting tail and piercing blue eyes. Given different circumstances, Sarangi would not have minded wrestling with him to make the beast with two backs, but this was no time for fancy. She watched the way he moved, like a leopard, and observed the strength in his arms as he whirled the axes effortlessly.
A bell was rung and the melee began. It was over very quickly, Sarangi used the extra reach of her weapon to immediately put Thorden on the defensive. Then, surprising everyone, she became enraged and swung her sword so violently that even though Thorden managed to move an axe in the way, she snapped the haft and nearly took off his leg at the knee. Thorden dropped to the ground and grabbed his leg, holding the flopping bit of his lower leg close. There was stunned silence and no one moved. Sarangi planted her blade into the ground and moved to Thorden’s side, trying, ineffectively, to help him. Moments passed and finally Vjangi charged into the circle, roughly pushing Sarangi aside and kneeling down next to his friend. The shamans approached and with their healing magic managed to save the leg, but he was still injured; it would be many months before he could run again.
Even though Sarangi had won the fight and was recognized by the tribal elders as a member of the raiders, her troubles did not end. Vjangi had a deep hatred for her and did not make her life easy. No one accepted her even though she proved herself again and again in combat. She was a novelty that quickly wore off anytime they traded with the dwarves or other humans.
She managed to remain a raider for three years before she was left abandoned on the shore of that nameless fishing village along the Sword Coast. She decided not to return to her tribe. Vjangi had likely told everyone back home that she had died in the raid. It would not be difficult to convince the warriors on the longboat to go along with the story. That was fine with her. Maybe now she would be able to just live her life as she wished; without others telling her what to do, and what not to do.
She traveled the region for a couple years, moving steadily inland, but staying near the mountains. There was something comforting about always having those snow covered peaks in view. They reminded her of where she had come from and the obstacles she had to overcome to make it this far. She knew that others would always let her down, but no matter what, she could rely on herself.
Comments (0)
You don't have permission to comment on this page.