Why Knife Clan? (book)
A story related by Caraamon Makdasi
Several years ago, I had the pleasure of witnessing the following
at Baerholt's Tavern. I was just finishing up my own dinner when
a very plain-looking Gor'Tog entered and took a place at the bar.
After a long look at the menu and an even longer sigh, he finally
spoke up.
"In exchange for a good meal," he began, "I'd be willing to trade
you all a masterfully woven tale. However, since I would be the
one telling it, would anyone settle for a poorly told tale about
an interesting subject? In fact, how about we make it a bet? If
my story does not interest you, I shall be forced to sell off my
meager possessions; if it does, you shall pay for my food and
drink."
Having plenty of spare coin on me, I motioned for the bartender
to place the Gor'Tog on my tab, just barely beating out some
of my fellow patrons. After he finished a rather large dinner
and an equally large mug of ale, he finally began his story.
"Have you never wondered about the Knife Clan? The two other
Gor'Tog clans are named after dangerous beasts, so why a knife?
How many Gor'Togs do you know that would use a knife as anything
more than a tool when giant hammers and swords abound in the
world?"
"Well, I'll tell you why. It begins in the times before the clans
were established, in fact, in the times RIGHT before they were
established, surprisingly enough. It begins with a young Gor'Tog
man from a small fishing village whose father just died. Along
with the father's hut and boat, the young Gor'Tog had also
inherited a veritable wealth of silver coins which his father had
spent years working for."
"Being a young man, his immediate response was to begin to
think of what to spend it on. Now, this young man had always
dreamed of adventure, of becoming a legend in the lands around
his home, and now he had the means to begin this adventure. After
several days of thinking, he finally had come up with an easy way
to become a legend. Thousands of people were known for using
swords, or hammers, or claymores, but there were no legends about
those who used knives. At least not those that anyone really
wanted to follow, since great tales of knives usually involved a
lot of dark taverns and back alleys, and Everild knows the kind
of clothes cleaning bills that type of person incurs."
"This young man, who renamed himself 'Kubil' in honor of
his upcoming deeds, went out and spent his father's fortune on a
set of thirty custom-made knives. It is at this point that we
shall conveniently overlook the question of who in a fishing
village could have made those knives and instead continue on in
our story. Kubil had thirty knives of all types made, all suited
for the massive hands of a Gor'Tog. These knives spread over
his body, in arm sheaths and leg sheaths, belt and boot sheaths,
completely converting his body into a walking arsenal."
"Then, with no more thought in his head, Kubil headed westward
one morning to find something to kill with his knives
and make a legend. As he walked over the vast plains, a
wave of animals would flee from him, since with that many
knives, he was about as quiet as your average avalanche.
Thus, he found nothing at all to fight or hunt."
"The second day was much the same, though he reached and entered
a large forest. The loud clattering of his walking drove away all
the game. Desperate, Kubil marched farther into the forest until
he ran into a rock wall, breached in one place by a large cave."
"Now, the great tale tellers would probably tell you that Kubil
charged into the cave, intent on finding something to slay to
gain him a legend. Closer to the truth was that Kubil simply
was looking for somewhere to sleep that night. So when the bear's
paw smashed him upside the head, ripping off his helm, it most
likely removed what little sense he had."
"Now acting with nothing but reflexes, Kubil combined a climb and
a jump to reach a high ledge just outside the cave and beyond the
bear's reach. This, however, did not solve the problem of what to do
with the bear, since it only became even more enraged as the loud,
clattering headache-maker moved out of reach."
"Stuck on a ledge in the middle of the forest with no food or water
and an angry bear stalking below, what was a poor Gor'Tog to do?
Well, Kubil decided he wanted his legend, so with the strength
that arises from bowl-clenching terror, he began to throw his
knives at the bear."
"It took him all thirty knives before the bear finally collapsed
and died, and if you ask me, it was probably more from boredom
than anything the knives did. However, Kubil had defeated a mighty
cave bear with naught but a set of knives and was destined for
legend."
Now the Gor'Tog storyteller paused in his epic and, with a
mischievous grin, laid out a contest.
"Since you all have been so kind with your attention, I do have
something for you. I must go use a tree, but before I do, I have
a challenge for you all. If any of you can guess what
relationship Kubil has with the Knife Clan, when I return I shall
present you with a great surprise."
"Oh, and to keep myself honest, I have written the answer on this
piece of parchment." With that he laid a heavily folded page
on the bar and stepped out the door. Immediately, the
entire room began buzzing with guesses as to who Kubil was. It
seemed obvious that he was the founder of Knife Clan, but to many
it seemed too obvious.
The debate went on for some time before we realized the tale-
spinner had not returned. As a group, we went out searching for
him, fearing he had met a foul fate in the darkness. Despite the
entire group searching, we found no trace of him, and we all
retired to the bar.
As we had nothing better to do, we opened up the parchment to see
who was right. I was one of the first to see the answer, and
after I had read it I fell to the floor, weakened by my laughter.
The parchment was written in large style, with a very simple
message:
"Kubil has nothing to do with Knife Clan at all. But thanks for the meal."
I write it as I saw it years ago,
Caraamon Makdasi