Kam Uhii: Sandblood

Kam Uhii: Sandblood

Kam Uhii: Sandblood


By the time you hear my boots on the ground, it's too late. By the time you hear my breath, it's too late. By the time you know I'm here, it's too late. But by the time you know me, you're already dead. Or perhaps that would be an unfair assumption. There are those who do know me and know who I am. Perhaps I should tell you too. Explain to you who I am. Explain to you my story and allow you to hear my tragedy.

My name is Kam Uhii and I am the last remaining member of the Wind-Blade Tribe. We were desert and jungle dwelling nomads of peaceful origin. We had nothing to do with the war between the Fish Army, the Dreadfish Militia, or the Sword Army. We were neutral and we had felt that there was nothing to be gained by the war. We were on peaceful terms with all armies offering to supply them with whatever each needed. We were a Tribe unique for our survival skills that were taught to us at an early age. We were also known for our skills in textiles, our main 'export', but also for our cultivation of edible desert and jungle crops. This is what we sold and traded to the armies to help our Tribe. We were also allowed to travel safely between the Army's capitals to exchange our goods for more goods and money as well. Two places in the Fish Army kingdom we frequently traveled to was Saint Albacore and Port Salmon. Business was especially good within those cities. But we also did our business in the Sword Army kingdom in the cities of Saberhagen and Fort Sheave. It was a peaceful life and the Wind-Blade Tribe lived well and prosperously.

But one day, that all changed. I will not forget this day. It is etched in to my mind with acid. An iron fisted grip that wouldn't let me go and haunts my inner landscapes. That was the day the Wind-Blade Tribe was slaughtered by the Fish Army. I remember that day clearly. I remember the sounds of the guns. I remember the final battle cry of my father. I remember my mother's painful air piercing screams. I remember my younger brothers fleeing only to be shot down in a flurry of blood and a hail storm of bullets. I remember my younger sisters never given a chance to live. I also tried to fight. I lunged for the Lieutenant in charge in hopes of making the bloodshed stop. But I failed. He struck me down with a poison dagger. I stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. I was certain I was to die. The poisons coursed quickly through my body. I was feverish, dizzy, and tired. He was going to deal a deadly blow to me when, as fate would have it, the Sword Army appeared. They fought back. They defeated the Fish and caused them to flee. After that, my mind is blank. I do not remember anything else because then. I blacked out.

I had awoken a few days later under the watchful eyes of the Sword Army nurse. She told me that I had been poisoned and by all means, I should have died. But I didn't. I asked her what became of my Tribe. Her expression fell. She told me that I was the only survivor of the massacre. She told me that I was the last surviving member of the Wind-Blade Tribe. I, at first, couldn't believe what I was hearing.

I replied, "This is a lie! This cannot be true!"
But her sad expression did not change. It was then all hell rained down its' ugly, horrifying truth on me. The walls caved in and I was trapped in a mental world of anger, sadness and despair. I tried hard to remember the faces of my family, but they were blanked out in my mind. I could see their forms, but I could not see their features. I was robbed of my memories of my family. I had my people slaughtered and stolen out from under me. I had a heart full of pain.

I asked, "What can I do for my people? My entire Tribe is dead because of the Fish Army! Please! Tell me!"

The nurse told me that there was a way that when I was well enough, I can attain justice for my slain Tribe. She said that if I helped the Sword Army and became a part of them, I can finally have my revenge. I knew my choice was clear. So I answered with a 'yes.' And it was then I became a member of the Sword Army.

After I recovered, I trained hard everyday so that I may finally seek justice. I trained myself in the art of Mal Grav, the ability to disarm an opponent with a gun. I trained myself in the art of Statistical Probability, the ability to dodge bullets. I trained myself in the art of dueling with two swords so I may be able to attack on multiple fronts I trained myself in the art of stealth, so I can attack swiftly. For nine years, I did this. It was only on the final day of those nine years I was given my swords - Silver Star and Silver Moon. I was told that these two swords; these two scimitars were salvaged from my Tribe's final resting place. So I took them in hand and vowed that I would be the one to stop the Lieutenant and finally receive justice for my family and my people.

So I had planned for half a year between other missions and tasks on how I should attain my revenge as well as where. This eventually brought me to the Lieutenant's fortress in Saint Albacore. It was a fortress that over looked the sea. This was one of the few times I opted not to act from the shadows. I took the fortress head-on. The Lieutenant had his men and I had my skills. I was surrounded, but that did not stop me. I dealt my own kind of bloodshed that day. I had slain many men to get to the Lieutenant. When I had got there, there was a huge battle. I was determined not to lose. The battle between myself and the Lieutenant brought us to the roof top of his fortress on the side that over looked the ocean. We fought bullet and sword. It was then I brought down Silver Star and severed cleanly two fingers from his right hand preventing him from delivering his deadly hail storm of bullets. But before I was to deal the final victory blow, he pulled out a frightening surprise - a sword of his own. He jabbed it in to my side. I lost my balance. I fell in to the ocean below and left for dead.

To most, the story would end here, but for mine, it does not. I was washed up on the shores of Fort Sheave where I was found by a most curious young women. She was yet another member of the Sword Army dressed in warmer winter clothing. She helped tend to my wounds but not before a price. She stole my wallet. While there was a chance I could have killed her, I opted not to for she had saved my life. To kill one's rescuer was by no means, a method of repaying her. She had my gratitude and my thanks. It was only a short time later during my recovery I learned of her name - Catleen. She told me many tales of her journeys and told me of her unusual exploits of playing practical jokes on others. (However, I must wonder what makes a joke 'practical.' Does it have another use? How does it aid others?) When I had left her care when I was able and well enough, I vowed that we would see each other again and that I would never forget her sense of humor as well as her kindness.

So I continue on my journey to locate the murderous three-fingered Lieutenant and finish my deed for my Tribe. Perhaps one day I will finally have my peace. But now, beyond seeking the Lieutenant, I make a visit to the site of where my Tribe and my family were massacred at the same time every year to pay my respect and to renew my promise to them. I will attain justice for my Tribe no matter what the cost. I have assassinated politicians, seedy merchants, common thieves, and other 'criminals' to get to the Lieutenant once more.

So now you know my story and my tragedy. By the time you hear my boots on the ground, it's too late. By the time you hear my breath, it's too late. By the time you know I'm here, it's too late. But by the time you know me, you're already dead. And for you, there's no exception.

See you in hell.