Kwazimoto and the demon

Kwazimoto quietly watched the human who looked more like he belonged on the piers of Booty Bay than wandering around the lava pools of the Burning Steppes.

"Franklin the Friendly, huh?" said Kwazimoto to himself. "If you're so friendly, why do you smell like a demon?"

A few days earlier Kwazi had carefully approached Franklin and engaged him in conversation.

"Lava?" said Franklin. "Pay no mind to all of that, friend. Look around you. Take in the joys that nature has to offer."

"Er...ok," Kwazi replied, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Franklin looked down at Kwazi, smiling affably, but every one of Kwazi’s Hunter instincts was screaming at him that this was not someone to trifle with. Rex, Kwazi's Tiger companion from Durotar's Echo Isles, had begun growling at Franklin as soon as they'd approached. Kwazi had placed his arm over the Tiger's neck but that had only lowered the volume of the big cat's growl, not stopped it completely. In fact Rex didn't stop growling until long after they'd left Franklin, still smiling and looking after them as he stood among the lava pools...and Wyrmkin...and other beasties, which all gave him a wide, respectable berth, as if they too knew that Franklin was more than just a mere man.

Kwazimoto had returned to Lakeshire, got Rex settled in with Penny at the Inn and then had Verner Osgood check over his armor and equipment.

"Everything is in excellent shape, Kwazi," Verner had said to the Dwarf when he'd picked up his armor. "Why, you could probably take on a demon single-handed with nary a scratch to show for it!"

Verner had been chuckling at his own joke until Kwazi growled, "Good, because I'm about to do just that."

Only then had Verner looked around and noticed that Rex, who had a habit of not being there unless you really looked for him, really wasn't there.

"You're heading north?" he'd asked Kwazi, already knowing the answer. "You're after Klinfran?" Kwazi just nodded as he buckled on his mithril vest. Very serious now, Verner sought to reassure his old friend, "your armor really is in great condition, you know. And the action on your rifle is working as smooth as silk. Your gear will not let you down."

"Aye, Kwazi replied, "and that's how it should be. This is a test of my abilities, not my gear." And being a dwarf of little words he'd said nothing more as he mounted up and rode away than "Be seein' ya."

Leaving his Ram at Morgan's Vigil Kwazi had trekked across the Burning Steppes to Blackrock Mountain, and there, just south of the imposing monolith, he again found "Franklin the Friendly", wandering among the lava pools, Wyrmkin and giant spiders.

Kwazi watched and waited and when "Franklin" was more on his own and the nearby beasties were not so close he began his approach. Kwazi prided himself on his stalking skills, and he was positive he'd dislodged not even the smallest pebble, yet Franklin still turned to face him as if he'd known the Hunter was there all along. Despite the heat from the surrounding lava pools, under Franklin's gaze Kwazi's blood ran cold and he knew his instincts had not let him down.

"Greetings, friend. Lovely weather we're having," said Franklin.

"Can it, demon! I know who you are!" growled Kwazi, then he quickly backed away as Franklin's face darkened then began to change, along with the rest of his body.

With a roar that echoed off the surrounding mountains Klinfran the Crazed tore away his human disguise, revealing his demonic self to the Dwarf that had so brashly challenged him, who promptly shot him in the face. The demon was stunned for several seconds and this gave Kwazimoto all the time he needed, to turn and run.

And the words of Kwazi's mentor came back to him in a rush, far faster than he could have recalled them while sitting down over a pint.

"The Hunter does not use strength of arm to win the battle, he uses his mind.
The Hunter picks the site of battle, and if he cannot, he picks the time.
The Hunter who makes his opponent fight the Hunter's fight will always win, regardless of strength of arm.
The Hunter uses his speed and agility to wear down a stronger, more heavily armored foe.
Just as there is no dishonor for the Rogue to attack from behind, with devastating blows that stun and immobilize his opponent, so too there is no dishonor for the Hunter to attack from a distance and never give his opponent the chance to strike back."

Kwazimoto knew of Klinfran's reputation and his extreme hatred for Hunters, especially those seeking to test themselves against him. "But do we seek to battle Klinfran because he hates Hunters?" Kwazi thought to himself. "Or does he hate Hunters because we repeatedly banish him to his home plane?"

But those questions were irrelevant at this point in time and best pondered, like his mentor's teachings, over a pint of Thunder Ale at the Kharanos Inn with his good friend Jarven.

Knowing he'd gained some ground on the demon, but also fully aware of its unnatural speed and strength, Kwazi stopped for a second. Spinning around he shouldered his rifle and took aim. For anyone else such a shot would be impossible. Kwazi had just run fifty yards in less than five seconds, and now he was attempting to accurately shoot his rifle at a fast approaching target. Admittedly it was a huge target, standing well over ten feet tall, but the size of this target worked against the ordinary shooter because this was no ordinary target but a very large and angry demon. But Kwazimoto was also not an ordinary shooter; he was a Hunter, and he'd been training his entire life for this very moment.

Even at the pace he'd run it fifty yards was nothing to a Dwarf who could run all day on a hunk of Dwarven Mild sandwiched between two slices of Myra Tyrngaarde's legendary Cornbread. In just a couple of seconds, despite the demon looming ever larger in his sights, Kwazimoto's breathing and heart rate slowed. His rifle stopped bouncing around and the bead on the front of the barrel settled down into the notched blade at the rear, and both sights were aligned perfectly with the demon's massive chest. If the sights did bob slightly with his heartbeat they were in synch with the bouncing stride of the fast approaching demon, and the front bead remained centered on Klinfran's torso.

Kwazimoto never consciously squeezed the trigger, the Hunter never does; his body just knows when the time is right and it takes the shot itself. The rifle kicked in his arms and Kwazi knew his shot had been true; he didn't need Klinfran's angry roar to confirm that.

Once more Kwazi turned and ran with the demon hot on his heels and he quickly settled into a rhythm. He didn't count the steps; like his body knowing when to shoot, his Hunter instincts just told him the time was right, and time after time he stopped, turned, and paused for a second. Then the rifle barked and Klinfran roared and Kwazi turned and continued running.

The demon chased the Dwarf all the way across the Burning Steppes and Kwazi was shocked when he recognized the path leading up to Morgan's Vigil. They'd run so far and he'd shot the demon so many times and still it kept coming, but the Hunter never gives up. To give up is to die (or at least fake it convincingly).

Kwazi stopped, turned, aimed and fired and Klinfran roared, but Kwazi stood his ground, reloading and firing again. Klinfran charged in as Kwazi reloaded a third time but still he didn't turn and run. At literally point blank range Kwazi fired a round directly into Klinfran's face and the demon stopped in its tracks, stunned.

For several seconds Klinfran wandered aimlessly in much the same manner as its human counterpart had earlier wandered around the lava pools, and Kwazi took this opportunity to dodge around the demon and start running back towards Blackrock Mountain. But as he ducked under its arms Kwazi took note of the black blood that covered the demon's chest, and he knew Klinfran couldn't have much left in him.

An angry roar told Kwazi that Klinfran had regained his senses but the Hunter had likewise regained his lead and the demon could do nothing but continue the chase. Once more Kwazi settled into his rhythm; run, stop, turn and shoot, turn and run again. But each time he took aim he could tell the demon was slowing down, and then the little voice inside him spoke up, and he stopped and turned and took aim.

The rifle barked but Kwazi stood his ground, reloading and taking aim once again. As Klinfran staggered towards him Kwazi settled his rifle's sights on the demon’s chest, his rifle barked, and time seemed to stand still.

So keyed up, so full of adrenaline was he, that Kwazi could almost see the thorium round as it left his rifle and flew towards Klinfran. In that split second Kwazi wondered if the demon with its supernatural senses could see it, or if it just knew its doom was once more at hand.

Kwazi had defeated many foes before facing down Klinfran, in fact three other mighty demons had already fallen before him, but Kwazi would remember this moment for the rest of his life.

At every retelling of this tale Kwazi would recall that as that final round streaked home, that Klinfran the Crazed, the mighty demon, had looked afraid. He always wondered if he'd imagined it but he couldn't shake the feeling that as he'd fired that final round Klinfran had started to turn, as if to run from the Hunter.

The old saying was very true, Kwazi thought to himself. Don't run from a Hunter, you'll only die tired.

* * *

If you enjoyed this story I've also written a 4-part series based on Kwazimoto's early years: Click here for part I of Becoming the Hunter.