>>621283


>Mawanir

>>621283
>>Alchacki

>>621283


>Vir Non

Boats and the only tribe with ranged weaponry, Mawanir is the way to go

>>621520
not necessarily the only with ranged weaponry, but certainly the strongest ranged weapons by far.

>>621544

No other ranged weapons were mentioned so i'm going to assume that until ranged weapons are discovered they don't have any.

Whichever tribe gets the second vote will be chosen, to help move things along. If it hits a long enough time without a decision I'll just roll for one, but I'd rather not.

>>621283
Yeah, mawanir.

mang freak mawanir

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>>621805
>>621331
Ah, finally got a decision.

You walk along the sea, the shallow waves running over your sandaled feet. A man stands on a small stone clearing, flanked by four men, two on each side. His honor guard, each proven Lon among the tribe. This man is Lurrak Tar, The Durat Lon. You walk up two steps, to become eye level with him, the sunset giving both you and him a warm, almost fiery red glow. The vote ended yesterday, after much contention and arguments among the tribe.

"Today marks when you become a true man, no longer a youngling. As your father did, and his father before him, I grant you your name." He seems rigid, uncomfortable with ceremony. He wants to end this quickly and find a way to do away with you. As the son of his predecessor, you could prove a challenge down the line. And both of you know this too well.

But all Mawanir men are granted three names, A mother name, your father's name, and your warriors name. Your mother name is what is given to you at birth, your father's name is your father's warrior name. And your warrior name is what you choose for yourself, after your 18th winter.
>Your name is _______

>>621889
Duncan.

I'm fine with Duncan if no one else has an idea

>>621889
Thurp

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>>621922
>>621939

You speak, loud and clear, “Duncan“

Lurrak Nods, solemn and again, rigid. He turns to one of his honor guard and takes a wooden spear from him, and a quiver of 10 javelins. He passes them to you silently. You grab them, strong and deliberate, as your father taught you. Lurrak grins wide, as soon as you hold the weapons. You both know, next is where most initiates die. The five men unsheath their spears and stab it into the ground directly in front of them, cross their arms, and wait. You turn away from them and walk to your hawaw, your personal boat, fifteen feet long and four across. With a great heave, you push your hawaw into the water. You must hunt a giant serpent, and earn your cloak.

>Sail for shallow waters, where many serpents come to feed at dusk
>Sail for a cave, where the largest serpents live and breed
>Sail for deep water, and drag a gutted redfin behind your boat, a favored meal of giant serpents.

>>622037

>Sail for a cave, where the largest serpents live and breed

Go big or go home

>>622037
>>Sail for deep water, and drag a gutted redfin behind your boat, a favored meal of giant serpents.
>Sail for a cave, where the largest serpents live and breed

I'd rather take the bait to the cave if we could.

>>622108
>>622127

You sail for the island of Natmur. You arrive swiftly and trace along the shore. The island is heavily forested, but you know the signs of a cave. Dark water adjacent to the island, trees and bushes seemingly curling into a 'crease' in the island. And it is during this surveying that you two large dead trees leaning on each other, both holding the other one up. Below is particularly dark and deep water. Entering the cave, light quickly fades. So you pull out a torch and hold it above the water, peering below, but not leaning over as to be snatched by a serpent. And then you see it. The shimmer of scales. A deep red color, an incredibly rare pigmentation. You hook your torch onto a rung on your Hawaw, and raise a javelin over your shoulder.

>Roll 1d20, best of next three will be chosen.

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>622204

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>622204

>>622276

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>>622237
>>622276

Dont really need a third here, plus its a bit slow tonight.

[19] You launch your javelin into the water and are met with a large splash of red blood, the serpent thrashes wildly below the surface and darts to breach the air, splashing you as it rears back and looks into your eyes.

Its head is easily the size of your body, it is probably many times the length of your Hawaw over, silvery almost transparent spines race down its back, each at least the length of your forearm. And its eyes hold a grim intelligence. the hunt has begun.

>Wait to counter strike, serpents hunt by lunging and your spear can catch the beast on its head
>Steer your Hawaw away as you pepper it with javelin
>A true Mawanir man does not shy away from danger, leap from your boat and tear into it with your spear!

Roll 1d20 along with your choice

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>622392
>>Wait to counter strike, serpents hunt by lunging and your spear can catch the beast on its head
I doubt I'll roll as good this time.

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>622423

Rolling for this

>>622423
>>622432

You [16]
Serpent [2]

The serpent sways back and forth, its tail slapping the bottom of your boat in an effort to knock you off balance. But you shift with the waves and pounds, keeping your balance throughout. The serpent suddenly lunges at you, and if it were smaller it would certainly have been too agile, but this one's size betrayed it, diving directly into the tip of your spear, sending it strait through its eye and causing it to reel back, flailing in the water as blood pours from the new socket in its skull and brain. Eventually it stops flailing and simply starts to float in the water. This battle went smoothly, the serpent was too clumsy for its size, and that led to its downfall. Today you are victorious, but you have many battles ahead of you.

>Fashion your cloak in this cave and leave the corpse, so it may return to the god Shatessu from where it came, to earn his favor.
>Bring the serpent back to your village as trophy, you are sure to impress many in the village with such a catch.

>>622519
>>Fashion your cloak in this cave and leave the corpse, so it may return to the god Shatessu from where it came, to earn his favor.
Grab one of its fang, make a necklace of relevent kills.

>>622558

This

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>>622665
>>622558

You spend an hour carving your cloak from the serpent, until finally you have loosed the skin required. You still must bring it back to the village to process it into proper serpentine leather, You loose one fang about the length of your hand, and slide it into the pocket of your leather pants, The body you allow to stay in the cave. Shatassu, the god of survival and prosperity, is a favor you should never scoff at. Your actions in the future will impress more than any dull minded beast.

And you sail to your home, the town of Karthen. Your birthplace.

When you finally arrive, the sun has drifted below the waves. The sky is clear tonight, the light of the stars is dulled due to the full moon. Only one person stands at the docks waiting for you, your childhood friend Kattu. He is absolutely hulking, and could certainly have become a great warrior, but he deigned himself to the life of a boat builder. He cannot stand the sight of blood, and you both learned this from when he was young. He has a wide smile on his face, he sees the red scales of the serpent's skin draped over the side of your boat.

>Stop to talk with Kattu
>Head to the town shaman, who will treat your cape for you.

>>622801
>>Head to the town shaman, who will treat your cape for you.
talk with Kattu along the way.

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>>622816

You motion for Kattu to follow you. He speaks in his distinct deep voice.

"So, what may I call the son of Haking now?" Haking was your father's name, and he knows that now that you are Lon, it is a great disrespect to call you by your mother name.

"Duncan."

"Ah! A strong islander name!"

"Yes, with a strong islander arm." You say, giving a quick flex of your arm, feeling rather confident after your recent kill.

"So, I was thinking." Kattu starts, he's already panting a bit due to the pace at which you're walking. "Since you'll be competing in Mur Kadash soon, I was thinking that you'll be needing a murawaw, and you very well know I'm expecting to build it, all I need is your blessing." The murawaw is a special boat built for Mur Cahash, twenty feet wide and twenty feet across, for battles to be fought upon. any Mawanir fighting on one of these gets a +2 bonus for any roll involving combat mobility.

"Let it be so." You say.

"Well, I'll leave now, a man of my station can't enter the shaman's longhouse."

You smile at him as he leaves, and you already stand in front of the grand building. The front is characterized by a serpents skull, large enough that it could have devoured your hawaw in a single gulp, though a serpent of this size hasn't been seen in generations, since before the war of four clans. You enter.

The longhouse is dimly lit, the shaman stands in front of a deep red fire. His long black hair twisting down to his shoulder blades. He makes eye contact, his eyes alight with life.

"I can tell, Shatassu is pleased. You left his child with him, so it may return to its cradle, and feed the next generation." He pauses, as if waiting for something

You step forward, holding the skin in front of you as you kneel. The shaman grabs the skin sharply and holds it almost next to his face, eyeing the scales. He takes a big whiff of the scent, and wipes a finger along the blood covering the inside of the skin to taste it.

"And an honorable kill indeed. This cloak will provide strong wards in the battles to come. Thank you, for fighting with honor." He turns away and walks to the fire. You aren't sure whether to leave or not, until he turns around. "Leave, brave Lon, tomorrow is a heavy day. The gods are not through with testing our tribe yet."

You step outside, and for the first time in years, are at a loss of what to do now. You can only wait until tomorrow when your cloak is ready.

>Head to the tavern and revel, you just slayed your first serpent!
>Take a long walk along the docks, contemplate.
>Go to your home and sleep, it has been a long day.
>(Write in)

>>623024
>>Take a long walk along the docks, contemplate.
make that necklace, thank the snake for the fight and the chance to prove ourselves or something sappy.

>>623075
walk along the docks, brood

>>623075
>>623101

You find yourself compelled to walk along the docks. Along the way, you find some old fishing line. Not much will represent Mawanir better than fishing. You pick it up and swipe the dirt on the line off before sitting down and working on the fang. As you carefully carve a hole in the top, you hear heavy footsteps behind you. You turn your head to see who approaches, and you recognize the man. He's one of Lurrak's honor guard. He seems uneasy. You stand up to become eye level with him.

"Hello Gavin." You greet him. His hair is blonde, tied in a warrior's braid behind his head, though ultimately his body is very slim and frail, especially compared to most other Lon. He only found himself in the honor guard due to his intense loyalty to Lurrak.

"greetings Duncan."


>try to keep tensions low (roll 1d20)
>escalate the situation
>[Write in]

>>623267
And with this I am very tired and need to go to sleep, I'll pick up tomorrow, hope it was enjoyable so far.

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>623267
>>try to keep tensions low (roll 1d20)
>Greetings, warrior. Is Lurrak demanding my presence?
>Tries to not fuck it up.
>Fuck it up in the end.

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>>623423
Either I fucked up, big time. Or I pulled THE poker face.

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>>623423
"Greetings warrior. Is Lurrak demanding my prescence?"

"I- Uh, well no-"

"So you had a message to deliver from him?"

"You could call it that." He says with an awfully wide grin, pulling a Kapir from his waist, a ceremonial curved dagger used for the sacrifice of livestock.

"Oh! How did you know!" You say, easily snatching the Kapir from him and examining it in your own hands. "My father was buried with our family's Kapir and we desperately needed a replacement!" You say, perfectly feigning excitement.

"Er. . . Yes! Lurrak deemed it in his best interest to provide you with a gift, especially in your family's time of need. You know, your. . . Mother-"

"My mother's dead"

"I meant brother-"

"My only brother died in his fourth winter."

"Then-"

"I provide for my sisters, and thank you, again. While the gesture is nice, I do need the sheath."

"Oh- Uh, sure." He awkwardly shifts the long leather band off of his shoulder and hands it to you, which you accept with a minor bow of the head. Gavin, clearly feeling like he overstayed his welcome turns around and speed-walks away uncomfortably. Once he's out of earshot, you mutter under your breath.

"Bip naha." An ancient curse, the same word for dolphin, meaning one who shags dead fish. It is often used in situations where one would call another an asshole.

With that, you finish the carving of your necklace and walk back home. There seems to be nobody on the roads tonight, must be later than you thought. You arrive at your house, a small shack at the outskirts of the village. The grand mansion where you once lived is where Lurrak Tar now resides. There are three rooms, the common room, where all the cooking and socialization is done, your room, and your two sisters' room. Each barely containing the basic necessities to survive. Your weapon rack, almost barren save for the quiver of nine javelins and spear that you just placed along it. Your beds are straw, only your sisters' is elevated. Cooking is a firepit, and eating is done one the floor atop threadbare pillows. This is your new life. Your eldest sister, Maya, waits, stoking a barely lit fire.

"I was waiting for you." She said, her voice low. You nod.

"Still alive. You aren't sent to the orphan home today."

She nods solemnly. She is sixteen winters old, but incredibly mature for her age. You sigh at the thought of having to fend off boys who fall for her as well as more idiot would-be assassins.

"Is Tamia asleep?"

"Been asleep for long enough. Don't wake her."

"I didn't plan on it. You can rest easy now, go to bed."

"I can't rest easy, you may die tomorrow for all we know."

"Tomorrow would be an exaggeration, I wont have a bout until-"

"You didn't hear? No, I suppose you were undergoing ceremony. A minor tribe, the Linacaw are challenging us for locations along the northern border. All the Lon of Mawanir are going."

"Pash Niffak" You curse under your breath, roughly equivalent to 'those fuckers'

>Continued

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>>624795
You wake up to the crowing of a rooster. You feel surprisingly well rested, especially after such a long day. You grab your javelin and spear, then leave for the shaman without waking either of your sisters.

The shaman is waiting in front of his hut, a red scale cloak within his arms.

"Good morning Duncan! The red serpent is an aspect of Shatessu's strength, a strong ward is upon this cape! You will draw attention to your bout simply by wearing this."

You kneel in front of the shaman as he places the cloak on your back, so light it feels as though nothing were on your back at all.

"Come, we have no time to waste on ceremony, the Lon ride soon, and we must join them."

You hurry to the stables and mount one of the weaker horses, a light grey Lata, a breed local to the plains east of Karthen and its great jagged hills. You see Lurrak and his Honorguard, each upon black steeds. Animals reserved for those who were deemed by the chieftain great enough. You, and twenty other Lon leave for the border village of Mir Apan, where the battles will be fought. Since your tribe is defending, you choose the specific location of your bout. Though, since your Murawaw is still under construction, you may only fight in the basic arena. But the ride is a few hours, who do you converse with?

>Lurrak, the Durat Lon
>Keisko the wise, your cheiftain
>Acanor, the Lon who trained you
>Myappo, An acquaintance. Your only real friend is Kattu, sadly enough. Maybe it's time to change that?
>The shaman, I wish to know more about the gods.
>Conversations will distract me, I remain silent for the trip

(Also, mention what you say, or what to talk about with your choice.)

>>624806
>>Acanor, the Lon who trained you

>>624970
I guess the basic, what can he tell about those minor tribes and tips to get an edge in the duel.

>>624970
>>624982

You guide your steed to ride along side of Acanor.

"I believe congratulations are in order. I see you slew a red serpent, a rare find." He says. You starkly notice the blueish green cloak most other Lon wear, including Acanor. Lurrak wears a black scale cloak, another rare variant, representing Shatessu's aspect of famine and death.

"So, what may I expect from the Linacaw tribe?"

"Long before our time, they split from the Mawanir tribe to become their own, and once were of great size, spanning from the western to the eastern shore. But now, they lie as a fragment of former glory. For weaponry and armor, they adopted both Mawanir and Alchacki strategy, but becoming proficient in neither. Many wear wooden armor, but it is crude, only wooden plates with leather straps, leaving joints completely exposed. They also lack the ceremonial Alchacki helmets, with minimal head protection. They use spears as we do, but are on average more clumsy. Lastly, they are generally hardy folk, being quite resilient to damage, and fairly strong, but very slow. Our fighting style's speed and mobility is our main strength in the upcoming battles, though our brute strength could probably overpower theirs."

You nod in affirmation, and drift back. You have enough time to talk to one other on this journey.

>Lurrak
>Keisko the wise
>Myappo
>The shaman
>Talk to no one else.

>>625111
>>Lurrak

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>>625126

You ride up next to Lurrak, sending Gavin a smug smile as he uncomfortably avoids eye contact.

"Greetings, Durat Lon. I appreciate the gift last night." You say with mock sincerity, you aren't sure if he buys it or not, but it doesn't change the outcome very much.

"Ah, Duncan! It is good to see you didn't shy away from battle on your first day."

"I wouldn't think of it."

"Well, five Lon have stayed behind today. I consider them cowards."

"Someone must protect our home from the wild beasts, no?"

"Hah! Maybe you are right, or maybe they have grown soft in the years Haking was Durat Lon. May he rest softly below the waves."

"I look forward to seeing your bout against the Linacaw Durat Lon. May your feet rest light upon the earth."

"And I look forward to your first bout as well, You'll be defending a small title of course, a farming sector along the outskirts of the town. About four families live there. Nothing compared to the village center I have to defend, about one hundred families, but of course, you are still important."

The corner of your lip twitches up. You really want to punch this guy, but you hold off for now, as Mir Apan is within sight, and the Linacaw band is already waiting within the village square, flags raised high. You reach the center of the village, about 12 Lon from Linacaw await you. Chieftains and Durat Lon from both tribes converge in the center, and enter a rather calm discussion, all things considered. This will be the first Mur Cahash Lurrak is the Durat Lon for, and the first that you are competing in.

They break negotiations, and silently both bands march towards the fields nearby. A handful of farmers were finishing up the clearing, hard packed dirt with tall grasses being scraped away. It has been a long time since Mawanir has had to defend. The crowd is already forming around the pit, while most are Mawanir, a few Linacaw are clustered on one side, seemingly ready to get riled up.

Keisko the wise steps into the center of the arena, his gray beard showing his age, as well as thick wrinkles upon his face. Though his eyes are full of life, more clear than most men.

"The first bout of today, Duncan Haking, versus Ramadur Makkai, over the farming sector of Dyr in the village of Mir Apan."

>Inspect gear quickly
>Offer prayer
>Make smart ass comment
>[Write in]

>>625223
>>Inspect gear quickly
>>Offer prayer
Kinda eeehh to only write for one guy, you wanna keep going until new players pop in?

>>625239
Well I'm just getting the hang of it since I haven't tried writing a quest in a while, now that you mention it it's probably better to wait for at least another one or two people. I just had the itch to write a bunch and I'm an impatient bastard, combine those two and you get that. but yeah, I'll wait a bit now.

>>625239
Seconding this, if you need more players I guess I'll join. Enjoying the quest so far.

>>625239
>>625336

You look at your own gear, you wield your spear as well as a quiver of nine javelin, Armor wise, you have thin leather upon your chest and legs providing only token protection against glancing blows. Your arms are bare, showing the scars of previous sparring and hunting, but clean of the wounds from true battle. You scale cloak is likely the hardest defense you have, able to take the slash of a sword or dull the blow of a club, though it is fairly weak to puncturing attacks.

You kneel down to one knee, and whisper

"Shatessu, guide my hand and divert my opponents blade, for blood shall be spilled today, I offer this battle to you, so please, take it." After that you stand, and enter the arena. Ramadur walks in as well.

He is not well built, though not scrawny either. Exceptionally tall, and has a shaved head and long beard, characteristic of the Linacaw tribe. A spear is at his side, shorter than yours, and a small wooden shield in his other hand, though it looks quite flimsy. He has a wooden plate protecting his chest, plates on his arms, and none on his legs. You prep your javelin and the crowd on the other side steps back in case you miss.

>Roll 1d20

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>625448

>>625448

dice+1d20

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>625749
sorry, im new to this

>>625475
>>625757

you [16]
Ramadur [13]

You launch two javelin in quick succession, one he catches with his shield, the other digs into his chest armor, he winces, so it may have penetrated enough to break skin. He grabs the javelin and yanks it out, sure enough a light flow of blood trickles down. But he has already closed the distance and now it is time for the melee, where both of your skills will be truly tested.

>Be defensive, let him tire himself out while you jab at him from afar
>Be aggressive, you have longer reach and superior speed, he cannot last an onslaught.

(roll 1d20)

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>>625930
>>Be defensive, let him tire himself out while you jab at him from afar

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>625979
Seconding

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>625930
>Be defensive, let him tire himself out while you jab at him from afar

This quest looks interesting. Just a quick vote before I have to leave again.

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>>625979
>>626065
>>626217

Sorry for disappearing, I was eating dinner.

You [18]
Ramadur [4] = 5 -1(minor injury)

You notice Ramadur is puffing his chest out and almost striking poses as he paces around you, taking long strides, feinting a few attacks. It's pretty obvious that he's trying to intimidate you. He knows it's your first bout, and that if he wins the mental battle, this will be over quickly. You simply keep your distance, every time he makes a lunge or a feint, you hold your spear between you and take a step back. You're standing on the balls of your feet the entire time, barely wasting a breath, while he keeps tiring himself. Finally, opportunity arises when thrusts his arm forward, slowed down by fatigue. You almost let his momentum do all of the work for you, you just apply direction to your spear and make a deep cut in his shoulder, sending him flinching back. He tosses his shield aside and deftly switches the hand holding the spear.

>Keep playing defensive, let him drive his own neck into your spear
>Strike now! He is weak and ripe for defeat!

(roll 1d20) (FYI, I take the best of the first three rolls, and this does grant you an advantage on rolls, but later enemies will have bonuses to balance things out. As it stands, you're facing an easy opponent.)

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>Strike now! He is weak and ripe for defeat!
I want to see how this world develops.

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>626348
>Strike now! He is weak and ripe for defeat!
4chan fucked up yet again.

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>626348
>Keep playing defensive, let him drive his own neck into your spear

>>626400
>>626410
>>626428

you [15]
Ramadur [6] = 9 -2(moderate injury) -1(tired)

You see his movements are sluggish, his eyes hold slight fear. He thought he was a hunter. The thought makes you smile, bearing your teeth. You keep your body low as you sprint, He strikes defensively at you, though you easily sidestep and drive your spear through his thigh, the end poking out of the other side. Ramadur screams in pain as he topples onto his back clutching his leg. The pain is too much to bear for him as he closes his eyes and waits for a finishing blow.

>Blood for Thakur! The god of fury demands sacrifice!
>His suffering is enough, end his life quickly so he can rest with Ahash, god of the eternal plains
>There is no honor in slaying a defeated opponent. Help him up.

>>626482
>There is no honor in slaying a defeated opponent. Help him up.
Maybe it could ease tensions?

>There is no honor in slaying a defeated opponent. Help him up.
But let's watch out for any trickery.

>>626514
It's good to know that I'm still on 4chan

>>626518
>>626542

You sharply pull the spear out of his leg and grab his hand, hoisting him up. He holds no weapons on him and is clearly not looking to fight you. You make eye contact for a brief moment, you can tell there is intense gratefulness in his eyes. the crowd is silent as you help him to his side of the arena and when you turn around, you can see most of the common folk have nothing but veneration for this uncommon, honorable deed. It is almost unheard of for a Lon to spare a life on his first battle. Your chieftain and Acanor look on with approval, but Lurrak and his honor guard scowl at you.

Keisko the wise walks to the center of the field, this time, it is stained with blood where he stands.

"The winner of the first bout is Duncan Haking. The sector of Dyr remains under Mawanir control. The next match is between Axton Rakatt, and Lin Carugo, over control of the silver mine outside of town."

Axton is a member of Lurrak's honor guard, his match might be interesting to watch, but you are no longer required to stay at the field of battle, as Lon are encouraged to rest after their bout.

>Watch Axton's bout
>Head to the tavern
>Try to have a word with someone [Write in]

>>626482
>There is no honor in slaying a defeated opponent. Help him up.
>Show me your honor...no, your other honor.

>>626653
>>Watch Axton's bout

>>626653
>Watch Axton's bout

>Watch Axton's bout

>>626653
>>Watch Axton's bout
One day there might be a fight between us and Lurrak's gang and we should know the others' fighting styles.

>>628162
>>626948
>>626785

(Sorry for disappearing last night, there were free donuts and I'm a poor college student. Then when I came back nothing I wrote felt right. Then one minute ago I had this whole thing typed up and my computer unexpectedly crashed for the first time in its life, which pissed me off to no end. So I’ll be pre-writing everything in google docs from now on.)

Axton steps into the arena, he wears no shirt as he proudly displays his scars. The most prominent of which is a bite mark on his shoulder that he earned from a shark hunt. He wields a jagged short spear, designed to rend flesh, and a shield with a ring of iron around it. He is clean shaven with shoulder length scraggly black hair. From what you have heard, Axton is one of the best fighters in the clan, second to Lurrak. Of course, you could never watch a match because a son is forbidden to watch his father in Mur Cahash until he is of age to join him in the arena.

Lin is heavy built, stocky and bald with a short beard and extremely wide face. He wears no armor, and holds a large club, smoothed down through use. The top has a knob designed for beating. The whole club looks as though it weighs no less than 50 pounds, though Lin wields it as if it were a twig.

With unseen agreement, both men start towards each other, Axton keeping his body low as he circles Lin, lightly tapping his spear to his shield to make an awful scraping noise. Then, with unexpected speed, Lin closed the distance between the two, swinging upward. Though, he hit only air. Axton sidestepped it easily, and drew a long gash on Lin’s arm. Lin simply kept his momentum, spinning as he turned the miss into a wide sweeping arc, aiming for Axton’s middle section. Again, he was narrowly dodged as Axton stepped back and leaned his head just out of range. Before he could react, Axton thrust his spear into Lin’s leg, then sharply pulled back to tear the flesh. Lin screamed in anger and pain as he dropped to one knee and swung wildly in an attempt to his Axton. Though, he was easily circled as Axton furiously sprinted behind him. If he keeps that speed, he would get tired quickly. But you don’t expect the match to last much longer. Axton digs his spear into Lin’s back, right behind the right shoulder blade, and pushes his spear so that it does not show any metal out of Lin’s back, and the tip points out of the front of his chest.

The match is over.

(cont.)

>>628619

Or, at least, it should be. Axton should have stopped and accepted victory. But he didn’t, he lets go of his spear, leaving it in Lin’s back as he smacks the rim of his shield into the back of his head, sending him reeling forward and dropping his club. Axton drops his shield and cracks his knuckles as he kneels down, grabbing Lin’s head, hitting it against the packed dirt over and over, mixing blood and dust to paint Lin’s face dark red. Axton keeps pounding his head until Lin’s labored breaths become even fewer and further between, finally stopping as Axton stands up, blood splattered all over his body, and none of it his. The veins in his muscles bulge and he has a terrifying fire in his eyes.

“The winner of this bout is Axton Rakatt, The trading center has been successfully defended. The next bout is-”

“These first two rounds are a joke, I think we could make this a lot quicker if we just let our Durat Lon battle the rest of this out, I can’t bear to see any more weaklings in the arena. What do you say, our other victor for today?” Axton says

>These men are weak, let it be over I cannot stand watching this either. (Offend Linacaw)
>They are in over their heads, let us be merciful and end it quickly (mixed relations)
>No! We must honor tradition and allow the bout to finish (Linacaw tribesmen approve, more chances for Mawanir to lose land)

(Relations with certain tribes will affect them when they are conquered, as well as may trigger or affect events in the future)

>>628621
>No! We must honor tradition and allow the bout to finish
>They are in over their heads, let us be merciful and end it quickly

It is not our place to decide these things, the Chieftain and the Durat Lon are the only one who can.

>>628621
>>No! We must honor tradition and allow the bout to finish (Linacaw tribesmen approve, more chances for Mawanir to lose land)

>>628621
>No! We must honor tradition and allow the bout to finish (Linacaw tribesmen approve, more chances for Mawanir to lose land)

>>628668
>>628881
>>629077

"I do not agree, Axton. We must honor tradition, else what do we have left?"

Chief Keisko regains the crowd
"You are right in this philosophy, Duncan. To underestimate an opponent is one of the greatest follies you could make in any battle the bouts commence as usual."

Axton scowls at you for making a fool of him in front of the crowd. He won’t forget this.

And so, five more battles occur, each over a small segment of land, Mawanir has so far lost only one bout, and only one other Lon died, a Linacaw tribesman. But, it is time for the main event, the battle over the village center, Between Lurrak Tar and the Durat Lon of Linacaw, Traposh Bwewe

Lurrak has an intimidating form to say the least. Standing tall with bulging muscles, he wears thick leather armor that certainly does not slow him down. His black scale cape holds an aura of fear, and his spear has a tip of black iron, a rare form of iron only found in the mountains of Nugue Hai. He hold no shield, only his spear and a quiver of javelin.

The Durat Lon of Linacaw steps forward, cracking his neck. Traposh is all around a huge man, towering over Lurrak, with larger muscles and many more scars to show for his battles. His is missing a few teeth, and has a cleanly shaven head, both for his beard and hair. He wields an iron greatsword, a unique item to find this far south, to be sure. He waves it back and forth, demonstrating that he has more than just strength, but skill to back up his blade.

Traposh approaches first, holding his sword in a low stance, while Lurrak stood with his chest puffed out. And spear at his side, tip touching the ground to his right side, and a javelin in his left hand. What is curious is that his quiver is at his waist, and not over his back. Traposh swings, aiming for Lurrak’s stomach, an easy attack to dodge or parry. Lurrak shifts the side of his spear to slide along the blade and redirect it, thinking he is safe as Traposh uses the forward momentum to land a massive punch to Lurrak’s face, sending him stumbling back. He drops his javelin to grab his jaw, then shakes his head to regain composure. The tip of his spear is staying on the ground, drawing a straight line in the dirt. He begins to circle in a zig zag, approaching and backing away as he dodges each of Traposh’s blows, wise enough to avoid blocking or parrying. All the while his spear is dragging.

(cont)

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>>630230

As Traposh rears back for a particularly strong blow, Lurrack dashes forward and rams the javelin in his off hand into his gut. Strange to use a javelin as a melee weapon. He simply slides back and repeats his weaving pattern. Traposh is visibly slowed down, but makes a mad rush as a gamble, the tip of the sword cutting a thin line of blood on Lurrak’s chest, barely stepping back far enough to dodge. Either he’s getting tired, or setting up an attack.

Lurrak steps forward, jamming the fresh javelin in his off hand down, into his upper bac,k right behind his shoulder, while Traposh was leaned over due to the blow, and leaves the javelin there. This pattern repeats, becoming more and more morbid as Traposh finally locks down and drops to his knees, a total of six javelins protruding from him. Lurrak finally lifts his spear from the ground and holds it next to the defeated man’s neck.

“May you rest with Ahash, the merciful one. For you shall find none here.” Lurrak deftly slices his neck, spraying blood in a massive arc in front of Traposh, with nary a drop landing on Lurrak. Traposh leans back with his mouth gaping open, eyes open yet hollow, propped up by the javelins lodged in him. You suddenly realize why he was dragging his spear. He was drawing. An intricate Hiatha flower, with the blood creating the distinct red stamen of the flower. He didn’t take that fight seriously, against a Durat Lon. And yet, he won.

(And with that, the thread ends. I tried today, and I can’t really run on weekdays due to time constraints and general business, but expect weekends to be pretty good on updates. If I decide screw it I’m bored time to run, I’ll update at https://twitter.com/Durat_Lon. I’ll set up an archive and get things rolling there, it was fun running. Let’s see where this adventure takes us.)

>>630233
Be seeing you then. Was fun.