Rumble in the jungle

[Yeorl Oakenleaf]

Fear was always his enemies greatest strength but now it was their greatest weakness, the Salan stalked silently through the shadows trailing their quarry - the ignorant quarry, they who had played tyrant over his people for generations untold. Were the strong deemed fit to rule over the weak? Was that the lay of the land, the rule of thumb? If it be the case all the Salan simply had to do was prove they were stronger. The murky water parted before his hind quarters as he swam through, a bone weapon clenched tightly between his teeth all the while his compatriots propelled themselves through tree branches artfully and gracefully; creating only the slightest noise every so often, as one of the massive creatures fell out of step of the rest.
The Kongradi were a near deaf race. They would not be discovered by the prey - not until it was too late and combat was joined.
From up ahead the group they had been tracking stopped in stride and lingered breaking their stride only for a moment but in that moment it was clear that they knew they were being trailed.
"Who are there?" Spat the largest member of the group, a group of seven, each large enough to put a castle gate to shame. Slaanrik' knew that an engagement here could be risky, they were deep behind enemy lines but the canopy of tree's blocked all light and conveniently muffled any sound there would be no escape for the Water lords.
However; losing his element of stealth the chance of defeating them with minimal casualties had dissipated while the Kongradi were outnumbered four to one they would all but obliterate his small band. Being twice the size of every Salan and each one thousand times more versed in the art of combat.
"I said show cowards!" Boomed the same crocodile like creature as before as he and his ilk drew their large swords - those made of stolen steel. A ringing broke out as steel pulled free of scabbards and the large four armed behemoths prepared to defend themselves, forming a ring.
Pursing to his mouth the ancestral horn he let blow a loud and low note one sounding of age, a lazy sound that just barely pierced the tree's - and in that very moment a dozen arrows each tipped with a venom strong enough to fell even the strongest beast of the swamp, rained down upon the ring of warriors.
"For the S-s-salan!" Cried a foolish three as they ran head first into the ring of warriors with their small spears in hand. The first batch of arrows were easily dispatched with a great circular slash with their swords blocking all but a few mid air.
The three brave Salan who charged head first into the Kongradi were cut down in a matter of seconds with a crunching sound as sword met spine breaking the fools mid stride as they were sliced clean to pieces.
A roar of challenge bellowed from the Kongradi as they broke their defensive ring and charged straight into the water yanking their stalkers out and engaging them in combat.
Slaanrik' had no time to think, he pulled the club out of his mouth and leaped out of the water dead in front of one of the Waterlords, squaring off. His helmet marked him as the champion and he knew the Kongradi knew it too, for he was clearly a young one with the look of want for glory in his eye.
The two combatants circled each other as foe and foe, previously social opposites were made equal in the dance of death the only dance either truly knew.
The Kongradi was the first to strike dashing forward with tremendous speed and agility as he swung his mighty blade towards the right flank of Slaanrik', but the attack was predicted and Slaanrik' easily sidestepped it, to lay an under handed blow upon the back of the brutes leg, shattering the bone instantly. Rargh! The Kongradi cried out in pain, however; a broken leg was nothing to one of the Waterlords and the dance continued as the two began circling one another again. This time the Salan was the first to make a move as he charged forward for what appeared to be a direct frontal assault, which brought forth laughter from the wounded beast as it slowly raised it's blade to meet the attack - a foolish mistake. Missing the feign the creature let out another cry of pain, as the Salan slid through his legs and broke his one working leg from behind, with a massive swing of his bone club.
"You dirty fight!" Outraged the Waterlord growled as he crawled towards Slaanrik' hoping to get at least one blow in but he was too slow. A flurry of blows hailed upon his head and that was it for the hulk.
Slaanrik' realising he had been carried away by the fight joined the rest of his tribe in the battle which was now going his way. Only three of the beasts remained, sadly only a handful of his fighters were left standing.

Pursing to his lips the same horn that had begun the attack, he blew three long notes as his few remaining men slowly slunk back into the jungle maze. The three remaining fighters regarded them bewildered.
He had won a psychological victory here today, at least he felt he had - the old man who had once visited the swamp would've considered this a well won fight.