The room smelled of man musk.

One solitary shard of light cut through a small nook between a boarded up window. I heard a groan and I stepped forward. The General, his bald head just visible in the shadows, sat cross legged on a bamboo mat. His voice cracked, quiet, restrained, but with underlying menace, like a lynx.

"I have been expecting you," he growled.

"Oh yeah?" I responded.

"Hmm," he replied.

"And what-"

"Be seated ramble friend," he interjected.

I sat, like he, cross legged on the bare floor. I heard a scurry - a rat perhaps.

"And what did you expect to happen when I got here?" I continued.

"Wiser men than I hath fallen by a falling Elm." He vexed.

"What does than mean?" I queried.

"It means, it means that sometimes to find your goal, you must dodge cascading wonderment." He announced.

"Nope. I'm still not getting the analogy." I fixed.

"Rather, one, regardless of stature, may find the crossing tough on light tredding." He rambled.

"Yes, again. This would fall under the nonsense I mentioned previously." I reminded him.

The General smiled in the darkness, and began rocking back and forth gently.

This continued for at least an hour and a half before he spoke again.

"You have been sent by others to kill me, have you not?" He mentioned.

"I see no reason to trick nor fool you, General. This was my mission." I responded in frank honesty.

"Yes." He added.

"Yes." I concurred.

"Then what are you waiting for? You have me alone. Do it now." He proffered.

"I wish that not." I declined.

"Then, what of your other mission? That of the dark haired rambler who crossed these borders in the darkness of last winter." He added expositionally.

I sat forward. My eyes met his. The light from the nook had dimmed, and now only our eyes shone in the darkness.

"He, Rambling Bob may be found in the Annexe Cave of Rim, four miles North of here." He said to me bluntly.

"I thank you General. But, what, pray do you require in return for this information?" I pondered.

"That I may die as a soldier. Not like a dog. Not like a dog. Or wilderbeast." He explained mournfully and with little jest.

"That, I can grant."

"Yes. Thank you."

He was at peace. I sensed his release.

I knew what he meant. He should be killed in hounourable terms. He was not a man, despite his horrors, to be despatched in any way other than which his class should allow. I would go off, into the jungle and return to kill him. I would stalk him anew. And kill him with the grace that he deserved. I stood up and I bowed. The Great General nodded serenely and turned away.

At that moment, a flash of something glinted in the darkness of the hut. I saw the thin eyes of Hom-Ken. He cast me aside and too late - I knew what was happening...

"HHHHOM-KKKKENNNNN NOOOOOOOOOOO"

But it was too late. Hom-Ken, the evil Scroturai, leapt into the shadows and proceeded to murder the Great General with a small, folding camper's frying pan - bleating the General's brains against the wall with the unwashed utensil.

I cried. I cried for the General. And the horror.

The dis-honour was too much for me. I ran from the hut.

But still I heard the resounding "PING" as Hom-Ken delivered another fatal blow unto the General's head with the pan we'd used to heat eggs only two days before.

The horror!

Jez