The Charlie Bravo Story

Worrier of the Wasteland

The drizzled warrior trudged north across the wasteland, dragging his heavy load towards the Place of Burning. Guarding his flanks to the east and west ranged his dogs of war, their muscles flexing like wet otters as they crashed through the brush.
If there had been anyone else on the continent at that time to witness the sight, it would have been terrifying. As this was not a normal hunt; it was obvious from the well-fed gaggle of war dogs that the larder back at the lodge was not in any way lacking.
But in some ways, it was a hunt, but not for sustenance of the body, but of the soul. This was an expedition for a sacred talisman. A physical object that carried a spiritual power that could only be identified by the beasts of war.
It would later be came to be known as Tikku, the most Important Stick in the World. Whoever possessed this object of power held dominion over the others, and they all knew it.
The old warrior knew it as well. It had been some years since his last real battle for supremacy, and his skills had been somewhat diminished as of late. So it was in his interest as well to win the final Taistelu Tikku once The Stick was discovered. This alone would allow him to recover his long lost mojo and retain his status as Aloha male of the tribe.
Then a mighty CHARK! sounded in the distance; the scent had been struck, and it was not good tidings for the weary warrior. It was the voice of Charlemange, the oldest and most devious of the beasts; if she first attained possession of The Stick, the battle to wrest it from her would be bloody indeed.
But instead of fleeing with her newfound booty, here she came. Her eyes were filled with the reflecting flames as she bounded directly towards the warrior. Such an act of unwarranted insolence was a direct challenge to his leadership, and neither could not or would not be ignored.
He felt the spirits of his ancestors rise up inside him in a demand for retribution, and he crouched like a lion at bay to absorb the frightful impact. But not just one impact, but many, as the other war beasts detected blood in the urine and were converging upon him as well.
Just before the unstoppable forces met the immovable object, there came an unbearable noise rolling in from the south:
“Are you going to quit wrestling around with those dogs and get that trash burned or what? I need help setting up Oba’s TV!”
Warrior’s note to self: always post a guard to the rear.

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