The Sun was now clearly visible from the Hill. It shone red in the yellowish sky. Vyköl looked up, and clicking his long, spike-like teeth, beckoned the war-bird towards him.
"We are going down South." said he.
"And for what occasion?" said the war-bird.
Then suddenly, a great rumbling came from the jungle, and a trumpeting filled the dawn-lit fields. A big grey mass was visible over the trees. The war-bird tilted its head and faced it. It was a-
"Mûmak!" uttered Vyköl and the war-bird.
The Mûmak came bursting through the trees and into the fields, its great tusks gleaming in the red sunlight. Several whooping sounds followed it. The great beast lumbered past Vyköl and the war-bird, and ran beyond the Hill, trumpeting loudly. When it vanished beyond sight, the whooping sounds from the forest grew louder and louder, and could not be ignored.
Then came the Gongs: Hundreds of vertical black shapes were rushing past the trees at blinding speeds. One of them came out into the field, revealing itself to Vyköl. The Gong stood five-and-a-half feet tall, clad from collar to foot in black mesh. Its head was obscured by a abhorrent crimson mask with massive tusk-like teeth. It carried a two-handed, spiked mattock in its left hand, and had a burning torch in its right. It was a war chieftain. In its wake, its mesh-clad warriors reared into the eaves of the forest, sharpened staves and gnawed blades in hand. They were poised to strike, but all of them hesitated. Even the gong-chieftain quaked in its iron-shod boots. It was not the war-bird looming over them that they feared, but the spike-ridden abomination that stood before it.
"Ugâka!" sputtered out the gong-chieftain at the sight of the war-bird.
Vyköl drew out the Gong-horn from his cloak and held it before the Gongs. They all gazed in awe at him.
"You want this?" he asked. "I would blow it myself, but I have no lips."
He then threw the horn at the Gong-chieftain, and hit him in the midst of its mask, splitting it in two, and revealing its ugly greenish face. This angered the Gongs, and some of them began to throw rocks at the spiked fiend.
"You will all...DIE!" shouted the war-chieftain in his foul tongue, holding his terrible weapon forward.
"Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo!" chanted his warriors as an endless tempest with their horrible, shrill voices, shaking their weapons aloft in a rhythmatic pattern.
But Vyköl and the war-bird were not daunted. Vyköl drew out his blades, and leapt at the Gong-chieftain. He then hastily slashed at the Gong-chieftain's mattock, till it splintered into a dozen shards. Vyköl then kicked the Gong-chieftain in his squat belly, sending him flying into his chanting followers. The chant ended.
"Now, my servant." said Vyköl to the war-bird. "We must leave."
"With pleasure." it replied.
The war-bird spread its wings, and beat them in the direction of the enraged Gongs. Vyköl then leapt on its back and braced his legs around the winged monster's neck. The war-bird ascended into the sky, and flew into what darkness remained in the sky. The Gongs shouted curses after them, throwing their staves aloft. The Gong-horn was blazing loudly.
The two fiends flew, Vyköl steering his winged companion into the South, and towards Mórenorë, the Dark Land…