The Life of Koru, Chapter 42
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The prisoner was called Imaq. Cuzco had left him alive after making him surrender, because he needed some information from him.
"I'se'll tell you everything, bossuh! Please no kill me!" Imaq spoke with a thick Arabic accent.
From Imaq, they learned that the Caliphate soldiers were led by three mighty warriors called Jubah, Gubulah and Thawr. Imaq also told them that most of the smallcock army was in what was called Oasis Bigguh, but to reach there, they had to first conquer Oasis Two Lakes. Imaq didn't remember, or didn't want to remember, where the landmines had been placed on the way to Oasis Two Lakes. Cuzco gave him a strong beating, but it was not enough.
"Suh Captain, we'se still don't know the locations of them landmines, suh!" Cuzco told Captain Toure through the talkie.
"You have to avoid the beaten path then, apes! There is no other way!"
"But, suh Captain, there be giant scorpions around!" Cuzco said.
"Giant scorpions? Who cares? Shut up, slave, and do what I said!"
Captain Toure closed the conversation and refused to give more instructions to these uncultured apes. Who were they to complain so much? If Captain Toure told them to jump into the fire, they had to obey and jump into the fire! After all, he was a genius military commander who had an oasis named after him!
As for the giant scorpions, they were indeed a nuisance, but were they really a reason to complain? These monstrous five feet tall creatures had been initially produced in a lab, because the Black Masters wanted to have them fight against the koru in the arena. A regrettable accident had made them escape into the wilderness and they proliferated rapidly, so they were now quite common in the Sahara region. They were evil voracious predators that liked to ambush the koru and drag them to their subterranean lair for future consumption. They used their claws to catch a koru by his limbs and their venomous stinger to inject potent toxins that caused temporary paralysis and excruciating pain. They were swift, cunning and gregarious, but at least the koru had a chance to fight them back, unlike what the landmines offered.
So Cuzco's army marched forward on the path decided by Captain Toure. Their morale was high and, as a proof of their victory, the war prisoner Imaq walked with them, his arms tied to his back.
Mulo had the chance to observe this stranger from the Caliphate at a small distance.
Imaq looked like a regular koru to him, two eyes, two ears, a cock, same nakedness, even the same smell. How did this regularly looking fellow become his enemy?
"I'se called Mulo!" he told him.
"Oh..." Imaq said.
"I'se want ye to know that ye can always come to the light of the Black Man in the Sky!"
Mulo had said this in the most respectful way possible, but Imaq said:
"I'se scorn yer god!"
"Ye're in the wrung here!" Mulo explained. "The Black Man in the Sky sees all and judges!"
"Oh, here he starts again!" Sleaze said. "Our preacher prayer boy started preaching!"
"Ye can't convert a smallcock to our faith!" Cuzco told Mulo. "Their belief is stronger than stone and so is ours!"
The sun was setting in the distance, casting long shadows across the arid landscape, as the army trudged through the desolate terrain. Despite the desert looking no different than before, the koru felt there was something amiss.
The ground beneath their feet trembled slightly, and from the shadows, monstrous scorpions emerged with an eerie silence. Their carapaces gleamed with a menacing sheen, and their claws clicked ominously as they advanced.
"Here they comin'!" Cuzco yelled.
The scorpions attacked with terrifying speed. One lunged at Scoutie, its venomous stinger aimed straight for his chest. He dodged just in time, rolling to the side and slicing at its legs with his machete. The blade cut deep, and the creature recoiled, hissing in pain.
Sleaze and Mulo fought back-to-back, their movements synchronized from weeks of training together.
Cuzco, the leader, faced the largest of the scorpions. It towered over him, its stinger dripping with venom. Cuzco parried its attack with his blade, then he brought his machete down in a powerful arc, severing one of its claws. He then rolled forward, coming up beneath its body. With a mighty thrust, he drove his sword into its abdomen. The scorpion screeched, thrashing wildly, but Cuzco held firm, twisting the blade deeper until the creature fell silent.
At a certain point, Mulo saw a scorpion using its claws to drag Imaq by his feet and into his lair:
"AAA! NO! PLEASE NO!" the prisoner of war yelled.
Mulo jumped to the rescue, dancing around the scorpion, slicing at its tail and legs with precision. The creature stumbled, and Mulo delivered a final blow to its head, ending its threat. He then released Imaq from the relentless clutch of the claws and brought him back, alive and well, in his protective embrace.
Cuzco grinned at this generous deed with scorn:
"Ye shouldn't have bothered, rookie! Tonight we're gonna kill him anyway!"
And, as if this information was not awful enough, Cuzco continued by saying:
"Ye'll be the one to carry the blade!"
Mulo's heart sunk. He didn't want to be the executioner. He wanted to make Imaq see The Way, convince him to worship the Superior Black Race, and have him join the Black Empire's cause. Mulo was still a soft-hearted goofy pup and shedding blood traumatized him. In his dreams and even when he closed his eyes, he saw his hands bloodied and he shuddered. Killing was for him worse than he had ever imagined.
That night, after Mulo had to slice Imaq's throat, nobody heard the young koru as he silently sobbed like a pup in the sand -- nobody, except Scoutie.
"What's up with ye, rookie boy?" Scoutie whispered to Mulo. "Why ye cryin'?"
"I'se don't wanna kill no more, bossuh! Is so awful!"
"Shush, boy! We'se all gone through this when we'se wuz rookies!"
Scoutie took Mulo in his warm embrace, giving him comfort and reassurance. Mulo's cock was fully erect as it touched Scoutie's own cock and belly. It was the connection Mulo needed in this wasteland ravaged by war.
"I'se saw ye fight with them scorpions, boy!" Scoutie said. "Ye fight well!"
The Annual Convention of Animal Rights, held that year in Nairobi, buzzed with energy, drawing attendees from across the globe who shared a common commitment to animal welfare.
The main pavilion was a hive of activity, lined with stalls that showcased a diverse array of organizations and initiatives. Each booth, meticulously decorated, reflected the unique mission and spirit of its cause.
Sir Ishmael, Zaryn, and Lyra moved carefully through the bustling aisles of the convention, stopping here and there to discuss with the people and get more information from leaflets and posters.
Zaryn and Lyra were impressed to see that the gorillas were very well represented that year and the messages concerning them were more than encouraging.
They saw a poster with a gorilla character saying: "I am a gorilla and I can talk and think! I should be allowed to vote!" And it had the subtitle: "A campaign for giving gorilla citizens the right to vote."
Another poster said gorillas should be allowed in Academia, they should be allowed to drive cars and should have representatives in the Parliament.
As for the koru stall, it was a lot more modest. Ishmael's friend Sir Dotting was in charge of it, but the public didn't seem very interested.
One of his posters featured a koru who said, close to crying: "Please, suh, free my cock!" And it had the subtitle: "A campaign for limiting the use of cock cages in the Caliphate."
"I somewhat feel that this poster is demeaning!" Sir Ishmael said. "The way this koru looks at you with those tearful eyes almost reminds me of a miserable puppy!"
"That's the point!" Sir Dotting said. "It is meant to stir up your emotions!"
"But it does so by also belittling the koru and encouraging you to patronize him!"
"How would you have made the poster?"
"Definitely more empowering! I would imagine the koru struggling to break free from the metallic cage, ripping it in two with the sheer strength of his cock, in a similar way a slave would break his chains! A surreal and metaphorical depiction!"
"This plays into the stereotype of the koru being strong muscular brutes!"
"Well... some stereotypes are true! They are strong motherfuckers! Do you know how much time and effort they need to build those muscles?"
"I don't! Do you?"
Ishmael remembered being coached in the gym under the supervision of Sir Gada, but he didn't want to talk about that traumatic period in his life.
"Nevermind!" he said. "I just wanted you to know my impression!"
"Alright! Nobody moves! The Hukunta is here!"
This sound came from a group of hooded thugs who pointed guns at people. One of them took a Molotov cocktail bottle in his hand and threw it at the koru stall, setting it ablaze. All the posters and leaflets of Sir Dotting, all the funds that he had managed to raise were destroyed.
Before Sir Ishmael realized what was happening, the gang of wrongdoers disappeared.
Their message was clear -- the koru were subanimals and should not be protected by animal rights.
"I will look into this matter and find out what this criminal group is up to!" Sir Ishmael thought.