Borf Raiders
A wild trampling sound awoke Reek. He had no time to reflect on what it was, as a large, heavy net dropped over him and Stench. Although not firmly entangled, the time it took for Reek and Stench to rouse from their slumber and struggle free from the net, afforded the Borf raiders sufficient time to make off with their trallés. A similar fate befell the other caravan-beasts. In the blink of an eye, all trallés were carried away from the camp, while other Borf broke the chain holding the slaves to free them. As quickly as the raid began, the dozens of Squirrels and Coyotes who had silently raced through the caravan camp, creating confusion and chaos, had vanished into the night—taking every single trallé and slave with them.
“Stam-stamer-ast!” Fishbum exulted, “that was fantastic! They didn’t even know what hit them before you were gone again!”
“That’s our way,” puffed the Borf carrying Fishbum on his back, as he ran furiously along. Borf raids were the essence of speed—lightning fast, the raiders swept into a camp in the dead of night, creating confusion, running furiously, tossing nets to entangle the caravan beasts, carrying off trallés, but doing no real harm to anyone.
The raiders ran furiously until they were far from the caravan track. Then, they met up with other Borf who were keeping monitor mounts at the ready. Raiding so far from home, and so near to Port Newolf, the Borf wanted to leave the area as quickly as possible. The Borf had only in recent times managed to domesticate the fearsome “dragon” monitors. Borf were the only beasts who had tried to domesticate monitors—and, for most beasts, the monitors existed only in fearsome legends. Caravans sometimes employed monitors, but only wild ones—the spirited savagery of wild monitors fit the needs of rapid passage caravans perfectly.
Fully-loaded Borf monitors, however, because they were properly fed, groomed, and trained, moved even more rapidly—some said their feet never touched the ground. Even when somewhat domesticated, the skitterish, fearsome lizards were so dangerous to handle that even Borf preferred to walk or run in most situations—except in circumstances such as on the current raid, where an exceptionally rapid escape was needed, or when some of the best trained monitors were used for other purposes.
Running to the meeting place, Borf carried Fishbum, Red Whale, and Katteo. The Borf could not afford for anything to slow down their movements. Other Borf carried trallés, and still others were at the rear laying traps to trip up any of the caravan beasts who dared to chase after the raiders.
“Do you expect them to chase us?” Fishbum asked.
“Not to worry,” the Borf runner panted, “most of the caravan beasts only get Slug Beer for pay and don’t want to tangle with our traps—they likely won’t come after us—and if they do, well—No more questions! I can’t run and talk.”