Page 10 - SagaOfBarak1

spaces between these life-like dragons and serpents could you glimpse his tanned
weather-beaten skin. And thus make out big Barak was a European not an Asian
or a Moor of some sort.
When this painted giant spoke his teeth flashed white and these were most
pointed things; in appearance the teeth were just like the fangs of the forest wolf.
Long ago these teeth had been filed and sharpened for the most dubious of
reasons. Obviously this little piece of dentistry of course only added to the
warrior’s already fearsome and most frightening appearance. Also this man of
war’s huge body was like that of a man some twenty years younger than his
approaching fifty years of age. Aye, Barak was trim at the waist while being
massive at the chest and shoulders, and his arms, well these hung by his side like
huge ham shanks. Obviously the giant was immensely strong, and his vast body,
well this it did fair ripple with an awesome power and a raw savage vitality. Long
years of bloody carnage and warfare as well as the years he had spent hunting
down his food; this coupled with his harsh vigorous outdoor lifestyle had given
his flesh no time to decay or to soften. Nor had the ogre’s great body become
wasted or jaded in any way, or his great strength, as his great muscles were forever
in constant use. For if indeed the huge warrior had succumbed at all to the ravages
of the years and the constant non-stop violence and warfare, well then he would
of course been a long dead thing by now. Aye for it was only the strongest, the
most cunning and the most ruthless of men that survived in his blood spattered
trade. But in the here and now, well then here was a true man of war, here was
a killer, here was a slayer of both man and beast. Barak lived it, indeed he even
breathed it. Alas the ogre, well for his many unaccountable sins, had in the not
so far distant past supposed he once even loved it. For warfare and the slaying
of his foemen and his enemies had been all he had ever really known since being
little more than an ungainly very lanky boy.
Still though besides all of that, nothing the spotty local youths or the half
drunken Germans had ever even heard or ever imagined about Barak and his
frightening appearance; nothing, no nothing any of them even wildly expected
had quite prepared them for this most frightening formidable slayer.

Now then, here standing before them in huge booted feet was a man you could
follow into war, any war. Barak was a giant of a man, a man who could lead you
and your friends and brothers in arms headlong into any battle; this no matter
how savage or bloody the fray may be. Oh yes under his great vast mighty shadow
a lesser man could feel safe, aye very safe, why he could feel confident, protected
even.

While Barak talked with Hubert the Germans drank from their gourds as they
spoke to each other in their own native tongue. And this the pair did somewhat
excitedly about the arrival of the much famed notorious giant Barak. The slayer
listened intently as he grinned wolf-like on hearing their words. For it just so
happened, the German tongue was one of the many languages Barak spoke with

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