Legends of Runeterra

As the sand tigers saw him approach, the rumblings deep in their throats grew increasingly violent, as they saw a large piece of meat. The chains binding them tightened, but the harder they pulled, the more the needles on the inside of the collars pierced the tender flesh of their throats. But Hesu looked at his master, his mouth wide open, anticipating a feed.

"Don't worry, man," Raz said. "Don't worry."

The wood in the Wekaura burned brightly, and the desert horizon was bathed in the blood-red glow of sunset, a good omen for the morning's departure. The firelight revealed the sand-pulling gang: twenty-three warriors lazily seated on piles of debris, rubble, and benches pulled from the ruins. These benches formed a loose circle around the bonfire, forming a makeshift arena. Their clothing was a motley mix of light cloth, furs, and armor woven from sand tiger scales. They feasted on the last remaining spoils from their previous raid: salted skalash meat and fermented Ikasul milk wine.

These men, armed with thin scimitars and bone-toothed spears, struck fear into the hearts of the caravans along the Semossa Road. Years of unrelenting looting and slaughter, hardened by the wind and sand, had hardened them, making them willful and arrogant, especially Susase.

The leading hunter sat on a throne, a glazed brick seat, fired at some unimaginably high temperature. Their leader was a vastaya from the east, half a head taller than Raz, a massive figure with a lion-like head like a boulder and a body covered in bulging muscles. He had a long mane, each braid adorned with steel cables and amulets, each, he claimed, enchanted.

When Susase saw Raz coming, his yellow pupils narrowed into a line.

"What did you bring me, Raz Bloodbeard?" asked the lead hunter.

"Fresh raw meat," Raz shouted, taking Odan Stileva from Anuta. "A plump, greasy soul, full of lies, and arrogance ingrained in its bones."

"Makara's favorite flavor," Susase said, reaching out a paw to stroke the head of his mount closest to him. The sand tiger roared and growled, all three mouths opened wide. Rows of yellowed fangs were filled with rotten flesh, and its pink throat was wet and reflected the firelight. All its eyes gleamed with hunger, like pools of black pitch. The beast had already eaten its fair share of captives, but its appetite was always voracious.

Makara is the top predator and all the other sand tigers have to wait for it to eat first.

Raz pushed Odan Stilleva into the arena beside the bonfire. They used skulls to create a circular border, and the sand within it had turned red and muddy. Odan Stilleva slammed himself to the ground, crawled on his hands and knees, and knelt before Susase. Then he clasped his blood-stained hands together in front of his chest, as if in prayer.

"Please spare my life, brave king, don't kill me!" he cried.

The sand-pulling gang erupted in laughter. Makara tightened the reins, eager to tear open the delicious piece of raw meat. Susase tugged at the chains, but the beast's hunger remained undiminished, and it continued to stare at the patriarch with its mouth watering.

"Play with him, Raz Bloodbeard!" Susasai ordered. "Give us some fun!"

Odan Stileva tried to stand, but Raz kicked him in the back. Raz raised his arms and slowly looked around, a exaggerated smile on his face.

"Brothers and sisters!" he cried. "The bounty of the desert has been spent! It is time for us to hunt again!"

Cheers echoed through the ruins of the city. Fists and spears pierced the sky, accompanied by the roar of the sand tigers.

"The caravans from the east and north are on their way, seeking water and shade!" he cried, strutting around the edge of the field. "But what are they looking for?"

"It's a dead end!" the sand-dredging gang howled.

Raz put his hands behind his ears and leaned forward.

"what?"

"Dead end!"

"Can't hear!" Raz shouted.

"Dead end! Dead end! Dead end!"

Raz smiled and held out a hand, signaling for silence. The Vikaura grew still, and only the crackling of the fire and the sobbing of Odan Stileva could be heard.

"Yes," he said, "they will perish, and so will we. But before the jackals can lead us into the Sunless Land, we must first bleed our enemies dry and take everything they possess. This is a world of the weak, and this blood is mine for all of you!"

As people shouted, Raz walked across the field to Odan Stilleva and cut the ropes at his wrists.

The man's smile was instantly gone as Raz thrust the serrated knife into his hands.

"What? I don't..."

"You can go now," Raz said.

"Let's go?" Stilleva's eyes suddenly filled with hope. "Really?"

"I swear to the sofa. As long as you take one foot out of this big circle, I will let you go."

Raz smiled maliciously as he saw Stilleva gradually realize the situation he was in. He stepped aside, arms outstretched, his back to the trembling captive.

Stilleva knew he wouldn't have a second chance to launch a sneak attack, so he rushed towards Raz with his knife raised high.

At the last moment, Raz dodged the blade, spun on the spot, and thundered his fist into Stilleva's face. The man collapsed to the ground like a crippled animal, and the knife flew out of his hand.

"Get up." Raz kicked the knife back to him.

"Have mercy." Stilleva did not pick up the weapon. "You said I could leave." His face was covered with snot and tears, and blood from his nostrils flowed all over his mouth and chin.

Raz stood up, carrying Stilleva, and put the knife in his hand. He leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Now is your last moment on earth," he whispered. "The gods are watching, and you're going to face them like this? Dirty and crying? Show some courage, and maybe the gods will look upon you with new eyes!"

The hatred in Stilleva's eyes grew intense, and he stabbed Raz in the stomach with his knife, causing Raz to jump back.

Then came a thrust for the throat. Raz parried the blow with his bare hands, twisting to create distance, while Stilleva slashed like a madman. The man's attacks were haphazard, and it was clear that the only sharp weapon he had used was a meat knife.

"That's right!" Raz laughed, easily dodging his clumsy attack. "Come on, stab me to death!"

Small knife.