Chapter 10

In which we witness many contests of physical prowess and reaffirm that it’s not truly a session until Frelik goes down

By the end of the tenth day Shadfrar had led the group unerringly to the camp of his tribe, the Sklar-qua, literally translated as the Sun-tribe.  In the fading late afternoon light they were stopped at the edge of the encampment to wait while Shadfrar went to notify his clan that these were friends asking admission to their camp and that they should not be killed on sight. 

After a while a small group of tribesmen emerged from amongst the huts.  The group consisted of an elderly man covered in tattoos, a smattering of other elders and a few young, up and coming warriors.  There was a conspicuous lack of warriors in their prime. 

The elderly man separated from the group and stepped forward, seeming overly happy to encounter the party.  Shaking everyone’s hands enthusiastically he babbled in a language no one understood for a solid five minutes before noticing the confused looks on every face in the group.  With a smile he switched to the common tongue and said, “Thank you for bringing my grandson back safely, it is too bad about the rest of his group.”

An elderly man who had clearly been a great warrior in his day stepped forward and introduced himself, “I am Mancio, this tribe’s chief.  Please join us.  Tonight you will be our honoured guests.” 

The grandfather, taking his chief’s lead, laughed and said, “Where are my manners!  My name is Severto, the tribe’s tattooist.  Please come by my tent tonight and we will celebrate Shadfrar’s return in ink... It is truly a shame about the rest of his hunting party, but we will celebrate his safe return tonight.”

The chief, looking slightly displeased at having only one of his warriors return home and empty-handed at that, put on his best diplomatic face and ushered the party deeper into the encampment.

After settling in and doing some trading and haggling the group went to visit Severto and take him up on his offer for tattoos.  He agreed to give a single use magic tattoo of any first or second level spell to anyone who wanted one.

As the group was cosily chatting with Severto, a rousing round of cheers went up in the camp around them.  The tengu went to investigate.  Another hunting party had returned bearing two aurochs – huge bison-like creatures.  It was a huge kill and very good news for the tribe.  The rest of the tribe gathered, seeming much more festive now than they had when Shadfrar and the party had arrived.

As the sun set, the evening descended into raucous drinking and a series of games which tested physical prowess and coordination.  The chief made a point of telling the group to stick around for the next day so they could be a part of the feasting and celebrating once the aurochs had been prepared.

Sometime late in the night the group bedded down in their own little area near Yuri’s wagon, politely refusing Severto’s offer to sleep seven of them in his tiny tent.

The magpie, however, chose to stay up and wander the encampment a bit, managing to steal a silvered dagger from a female sentry; the same sentry that Frelik managed to seduce into her own tent later.  Yuri, meanwhile, slept sitting up with his eyes open on the seat of his cart, snapping his whip regularly once every twenty minutes.  No one could tell if he slept at all.

Davros entertained himself by seducing a middle-aged widow and Valeria managed to bluff her way into the tent of a fourteen year old boy.  Magpie spent the night with Severto and Akura slept on top of the cart, spending most of the night cursing Pharasma as all the stars appeared to form a spiral, mocking him with her holy symbol.

On the morning of the eleventh day of their journey the camp was a bustling hubbub as the tribe cooked and prepared the aurochs.  Magpie offered his services, and after a confusing and convoluted conversation found himself agreeing to entertain the tribe with stories later in the evening.

Yuri offered up some of his special, exotic cooking spices to help prepare some of the meat and agreed to perform some of his dancing and acrobatic tricks later in the evening in addition to Magpie’s stories.  Valeria also offered to make and shoot off a few fireworks for the enjoyment of the tribe.

Davros worked on finishing up his goblin snake bowtie and offered his alchemy services to anyone who was interested.  Olivine and Akura kept the young Shoanti children entertained while the adults busied themselves with preparing the feast.

Around mid-afternoon, somewhat earlier than the group was expecting, the feast began.  Soon a series of games began.  The leader of the successful hunting party, Adamon, seemed to be the popular favourite in the games, winning quite a few physical and martial competitions.

Magpie, noticing again the lack of men between the ages of twenty and forty, sought out Severto and asked quietly, “Why are there so few men in their prime in this tribe?”

After a careful glance around, the old man tried several languages before finally replying in elven, “The tribe has fallen on hard times recently and most of our warriors have been killed or have disappeared.  The only reason we survive is Adamon.  Unfortunately, Adamon seems to be somewhat of a monster.   Once a month, when the moon comes on full, he becomes something… terrible.”

Magpie offered to help in any way he could, but the old man shook his head, “No, it is something that needs to take care of itself.  After all, he takes care of us.”

Frelik, meanwhile, had taken to the games with gusto, first competing in the axe throwing competition where he placed second next to Adamon then going on to face off against Adamon in a wrestling match.  When all was said and done they clasped arms and complemented each other on their prowess, leaving the ring as friends.

Shortly before nightfall, as the tribe was feasting in their great-tent,  Adamon stood and left the tent quietly, Severto close on his heels. 

Magpie, noticing this strange behaviour went to Davros, explaining what the old man had told him earlier. 

Davros looked sick, “That is the description of Lycanthropy; the tendency to turn into a wolf once per month.  Magpie’s gut dropped.  He looked around the tent and suddenly made the connection that there seemed to be a surprising number of silvered weapons in the tribe’s possession.

Just after nightfall the half-orc and the bird-man slipped discreetly from the mead-hall, creeping to visit Severto.  After confessing their suspicions to him, they asked him about what was going on.

“As I said,” The old man explained, “we had fallen upon hard times.  We were not producing enough warriors to feed the tribe and the predators kept picking us off one by one.  One day, purely by accident, Adamon contracted the wolf’s blood and suddenly became a much better hunter.  At the first full moon,” he glanced up to the moon, which was indeed full, “we discovered that he had to be locked up for three days of each month as a penance for his terrible gifts.  He does not want to shame the tribe, so goes willingly to be confined while he is still himself.”

“Have you had any problems?”  Davros asked.

“Not yet.”  The old man replied ominously.

As he spoke a strange noise came from the direction of Yuri’s cart; a tiny, faint hammering sound.

Choosing not to cast light and draw attention to themselves Davros and Magpie stealthily approached the cart.  They found a half-dozen tiny, cockroach-headed creatures known as Vexjit gremlins - who were famous for sabotaging things.

The bird-man drew his cold-iron longsword as Davros crept up on the creatures, carefully rolling a bomb into the midst of the creatures.  Hollering his most vicious caw, Magpie charged, swinging and easily putting one of the creatures down with a triumphant squawk.

The one nearest the Magpie wiggled his fingers, attempting to cast rusting grasp on the bird-man’s weapon.  Mercifully he missed.  Another one stepped up, swinging his hammer and cracking the Magpie in the knee.

The bomb and Magpie’s cry drew Valeria’s attention over the revelry inside the tent.  She leapt to her feet, “Something is afoot outside!”  She cried, dashing out of the tent and into the pitch darkness.  She caught a lingering after-flash from Davros’ last bomb and headed in the direction of Yuri’s cart and the scuffle.

As Magpie heard her approach he warned her about the creatures’ ability to rust away metal weapons and swung at another one of the creatures, putting it down.

A hint of musical laughter danced on the air as Akura darted out of the tent after Valeria and reached the cart, “What’s going on?”  He demanded.

Davros waved at the scuffle, “Cart.  Gremlins.  You figure it out.”

Just after Akura left, a large creature burst into the main tent, eyes glowing, horns glinting from its thick fur as it advanced into the tent, lashing out a claw and killing the sentry with one blow.  A group of jackal-like creatures which Frelik managed to recognize as pugwampis swarmed behind the huge hairy creature, cheering.

Barely controlling his rising anger, Frelik harnessed his rage and channeled it into attacking the creature who had just killed the woman he’d been eyeing as his next bed-partner.

With a cry, Olivine leapt up onto the top of the table in the middle of the feast and charged down to the far end, raising her hands and unleashing a stream of fire at the wolf-creature and the little jackals, killing two of the little creatures instantly and injuring a third, while only managing to upset the larger creature.

The remaining gremlins at the cart, meanwhile, came at Magpie, all of their hands glowing with a rusty red colour.  He managed to deflect two of them, but the third latched onto his blade and rusted it to useless.

Back at the tent another creature was entering the fray, this one was humanoid, but with predominantly wolf-like qualities.  It swung a finely crafted longsword at Frelik, scoring a hit.

Davros tossed one last sticky-bomb at the creatures molesting the cart, entangling them.

Valeria aimed and polished off another of the gremlins at the cart while Magpie swung in anger at the critters and missed.

A new variety of gremlins, these ones small with pointed ears, swarmed in through the wall of the tent.  And another pair of young Shoanti warriors, who were in the process of drawing their weapons, were struck down before they could swing.

Akura, seeing only swarms of tiny creatures everywhere and the two larger, hairy creatures, panicked and tapped two fingers over the tattoo Severto had given him and it flared to life, seeming to grant him extra strength.

Olivine, worried about the welfare of her mount, who’d been in the tent with her when the attack began, called out his name and an attack command as she raised her hands, laying waste to another set of pugwampis with her flames. 

From amidst the sea of milling people the mutt surged forth, snarling and biting.

The wolf-like humanoid snarled, attacking Frelik with a savage ferocity, knocking him out.  Frelik went down in a bloody heap, slowly seeping his lifeblood into the earthen floor.

Davros had had just about enough of all this.  Tossing back his mutagen he stomped over to the tent, whipping back the flap to find a scene of utter chaos inside.  On the far side of the room the werewolf was standing over a still and bloodied Frelik.  He shouted, “Knock the wereworlf out, but DON’T KILL IT!”

“Why not?”  Akura whined.

“Don’t ask questions, just do it!”  The Magpie interceded.

With a final effort, Magpie swung at the remaining gremlin by the cart, handily destroying it.  Checking that there were no other gremlins around he bolted for the tent, which was still bustling with the sounds of battle.

The battle was still in full swing.  The lack of cold-iron weapons among the occupants of the tent seemed to be hindering their success in defeating the remaining foes.

The hairy beast (not the werewolf) leapt up onto the table to deal with Olivine, who was proving herself to be exceptionally dangerous.

Olivine and her dog got off a solid round of attacks.

Davros whipped out another of his famous bombs, lobbing it up over the crowd at the werewolf.  Miraculously he hit, doing a decent portion of damage and gluing the poor creature to the floor, making it easier for his cohorts to knock the creature out without killing him.

A brief but ferocious battle followed, everyone showing their prowess, even Olivine’s dog who fought bravely, eating many tiny gremlins while somehow managing to avoid getting injured itself.  A few more Shoanti tribe members were lost in the battle, but all in all the outcome of the battle was viewed as a success, killing the gremlin’s shaggy leader and chasing off the survivors. 

Olivine raised her hands, but hesitated.

“Torch him!” Davros yelled.

She did.

The big man went down, losing consciousness and landing in a heap.

Cheers went up throughout the tent as the party took the werewolf back to his tent and put him back into his silver manacles for the rest of the night.