Morok was fucking done. His armor was broken, he was sweaty and two of the youngsters were staring at him with palpable disdain.
It had all started 3 weeks ago, when the evening sky was suddenly illuminated by a beam of light, originating from deep in the wastelands.
The people were thrown into a panic, yet the animals had been weirdly catatonic. Minutes later the shockwave arrived, followed by an incredibly loud boom.
Since the tribes had little use for glass panes that could shatter, they were spared any heavy injuries, most were injured by the ensuing panic. The only casualty was an older man that was trampled to death by his pack mammoth.
The shamans were unsure at first, as neither they, nor the seer had foreseen something monumental happening. But after a few days of deliberation, they said that "the weave" was thrown into an imbalance. Whatever that meant.
Shortly afterwards a wave of fire mana washed through the area, so concentrated that even someone with a physical class like him could feel it.
That was when the real problems began. Not only did the pillar of light cause general unrest, now there was a high concentration of fire mana everywhere. In the three weeks since the incident, dozens of youngsters had awakened to a fire focussed class. Tents constantly went up in flames. Children burned themselves, spooked animals or just straight up set the grain wagons on fire.
And In the middle of this disastrous time, he had to go on patrol, taking some of the newly awakened kids with him.
As the most senior hunter in his tribe, he was saddled with the responsibility of teaching the new generation. Something he would have loved to do for one last time, if only they had finished basic training. Now that so many children awakened ahead of time, he had to drag along a group of rowdy kids, drunk on their newfound power.
It was supposed to be his last time on patrol, before he was officially considered an elder. He would have spent 3 weeks in the wilderness, patrolling the outskirts of the tribe's territory, hunt a bit, and generally relax.
Instead he had spent the past three weeks in a constant state of vigilance, looking out for threats, looking after the youngsters that repeatedly tried to kill themselves, all while teaching them how to conduct themselves while out on patrol.
These three weeks had been more stressful than any patrol he had been on yet.
Morok was a hunter. An expert marksman when using a bow. But more than once he had been forced into a melee when one of the impulsive youngsters had overlooked an ambush.
A rockskin boa had bitten down on the thigh of one of his mst boisterous students, and after a short scuffle he managed to slay the snake. But not before it tried to constrict around his leg, crushing the armor in the process.
Another student had mistaken the burrow of a trapdoor tower spider for a tree, forcing him into another melee that resulted in the rest of his armor being rendered useless.
Now he was without proper protection, under the sweltering heat of midsummer, without his armor's cooling properties.
Additionally, the large amount of ambient fire mana, raised the temperature to unhealthy degrees.
If he hadn't crossed the great leap, he would not survive the harsh weather.
Over a week, he had done his best to keep the young ones alive, while suffering from extreme fatigue and the incredible heat.
Unsurprisingly, one of the youngsters didn't heed his warnings. Some good looking lad, the son of some elder or another, had gotten the idea that the skull of a wasteland lion would make for a perfect trophy for his first patrol. Despite moroks warnings, telling the kid that even he would not antagonize such a beast, the kid went ahead and tried to fight it anyway.
Drunk on his own ego, and the success of slaying a few mundane hyenas here and there, the boy thought he could just charge the beast with a mundane steel sword.
Now to his credit, the boy had been incredible with a sword for his age, likely owing to the rigorous training his parentage had offered him. Even Morok, one of the strongest in all of the tribes, had been decidedly worse when he was the boy's age.
The problem was that a wasteland lion did not care much for achievements in the sword arts. After confidently charging the three meters tall lion, it had taken less than a second for the beasts massive paw to smash the boy Into an indistinct lump of meat and broken bone, splattering his lifeblood in a wide radius.
While Morok decided to vacate the area, dragging the rest of the younglings and a screaming girl with him, he noticed that the young boys sword had miraculously managed to get lodged between two of the lion's toes, drawing little more than a singular drop of blood.
Usually such a sight would have been enough to cow the other children, but morok wasn't dealing with young adults that had finished basic training.
The girl that had screamed while the idiot got himself smashed into meatpaste, was apparently his childhood sweetheart and she had, in her decidedly undeveloped mind, decided that it was moroks fault that the idiot got himself killed and he needed to hear about it.
Thus he spent the next week dragging along the kids, hoping to finish the patrol before the girl decided to slit his throat while they slept.
They were on the last leg of their patrol before they could return to the current clan encampments. A hilly grassland at the edge of the wasteland, sparkling in a dull orange color owing to the irongrass the tribes sowed every few years.
While out on patrol, they were only to scout and maybe hunt a few of the mundane animals for food, not hunt after every pair of tracks that could pose a danger to the tribes. Which made the current situation all the more exhausting.
Everytime one of the children noticed a set of tracks that could indicate some incredible threat, but was most likely just a desert drake, they would try to run after the tracks and everytime morok had to basically drag them back by their ears.
It was a wonder that the brutal death of their friend hadn't dampened their ego, but seemed to have riled them up even further.
While dragging one of the young boys back by the scruff of his neck, he noticed them for the first time. A heavy set of footprints. Two feet, fairly large, probably close to two meters tall, about 100kg. The individual prints seemed fairly humanoid.
This was finally something to teach the younger ones. How to properly handle intruders into the clan's territory, whether they were knowingly or unknowingly trespassing, and how to handle proper threat assessment.
Morok whistled once, then after a second again, the one signal he had managed to teach the children. To his disappointment, it took more than 5 minutes for the children to gather.
After he sent one of the boys to look for the angry girl and get her back to the group.
When after another 5 minutes the group was finally, he addressed the gathered children.
"Now, this is going to be an important lesson for you." Pointing on the ground to the tracks he continued.
"All of you missed these tracks, despite this being what you all should be looking for. "
Two of the children looked disappointed at themselves, sad that they missed such obvious tracks. Most of the others immediately started analyzing the tracks, while the angry one looked as if Morok had somehow directly insulted her.
"I'm going to watch how you handle this situation. Think of this as a final test if you are qualified for regular patrols."
The two that had seemingly taken it as the test it was supposed to be looked motivated, while the rest seemed to only listen with one ear. The angry one only scoffed and started to follow the tracks, leaving the rest behind.
Morok followed behind the children, taking note of every decision and discovery they made, what conclusions they drew about the tracks and how they decided to handle the intruder into their territory.
The two diligent ones took control of the group, now that the angry one was going ahead on her own, bringing the group into a dialogue about how to handle the stranger.
After a brief discussion the group fanned out and began following the tracks.
Morok was pleased for the first time on this trip. The two would make excellent scouts, if only they could be a bit more assertive. Maybe in a few years he would remember their names as well.
Though he wondered how they would react when they noticed the intruder wasn't alone.
He had noticed the second set of tracks shortly after the first, but deliberately chose not to mention them. They were extremely light and evenly spaced. In contrast to the other pair of prints, these spoke of a very disciplined person with excellent footwork.
—-------------------------------------
It took the group a while to catch up to the intruders. They had kept moving in a straight line, ignoring any obstacles or difficult terrain. Seemingly just walking over boulders and through spiky shrubbery.
The children had noticed the weirdness of the first set of tracks when the person that made them seemingly slipped multiple times while climbing over difficult terrain. They came to the conclusion that it must be someone unused to the wilderness, but Morok wasn't so sure anymore.
If the pair of intruders had walked in a straight line the entire time, they would have come from deep in the wastelands. No one that could survive out there would be unaccustomed to wilderness travel.
Finally after a while of following the tracks, they arrived at a depression in the ground filled with spiky and dense shrubs. The tracks led into the shrubbery. If the freshness of the tracks was any indication, the intruders would be walking through the dense foliage and come out on the other side.
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The two promising kids decided to hurry along outside the area of dense foliage and wait for the person on the other side.
The angry one was still missing.
Under the leadership of the two prising ones, the group hurried along the outside of the dense area, finally reaching the spot where the intruders would exit the basin from if they continued in a straight line.
The group fanned out in a half circle taking point, while those with long range weapons took cover and aimed at the exit.
Morok and the two new leaders of the group stood waiting at the exit point, ready, but with weapons sheathed, to not immediately give the impression of violence.
Then, to Moroks surprise, one of the two, a young boy with common grey skin, but a distinctintelligent gleam in his eyes, turned to morok and asked him something.
"Can you fire a signal arrow? I know you are only supposed to observe, but I don't want the situation to immediately turn hostile."
Smiling to himself, somewhat proud, morok unslung his longbow from his back and nocked one of the three signal arrows he carried in his quiver.
The arrow tips were carved from bone, with holes in them that made a distinct shrieking noise when fired, a fairly universal signal that many even outside of the tribes knew.
Morok pulled the string backwards, only about a third of the entire draw length as to not shoot it to fast and after a quick breath released the arrow, sending it into the sky with a loud shriek.
Momentarily, the surrounding wilderness quieted down, before the omnipresent rustle of the wilderness returned.
"We will wait here, keep your weapons sheathed, but be ready!" The other of the two young ones spoke, loud enough for the others laying in wait. She had similar grey skin to the other one, but she was quite a bit larger than the other one. In contrast to the one who was likely her brother, she looked quite brutish, being a head taller than him and carrying two steel handaxes on her belt.
Morok was pleased with both of them. They would make excellent scouts, though he would make a recommendation to put the girl in warrior training instead of the border patrol. The tribes always needed warriors that could think clearly and not fall to their racial battle lust.
Morok settled down to wait, slightly behind the two and focused on his perception. Sinking into a semi meditative trance he spread his awareness outwards, something he had picked up from the magic lessons one of the shamans held for the younger ones. It took barely a minute before Morok heard the first signs of the intruders.
Someone was speaking, but at first to far away to understand what was being said. Slowly as the voice got closer, Morok could make out what was being said.
"Ugh if I knew how bothersome bipedal walking was I would have never let you talk me into this."
The person spoke in some higher form of draconic dialect, which morok luckily understood, having spent a few months with the kobold tribes deeper in the wastes.
A second voice answered in a language that morok didn't know, made up of sounds that bizzarely sounded like the chirping of birds and the sounds of trumpets being played.
"Yes I know, and I'm thankful you taught me, but this is bothersome!" The first voice spoke again, seemingly exasperated.
Suddenly Morok remembered something he was taught in his childhood. The old shaman that had led his tribe when he was a young hob, talked of beasts that could take on a human form when they crossed the third leap. The way the intruder talked about "bipedal walking" as if it was something new and difficult set off alarm bells in his mind. He was one of the strongest rangers in all of the tribes, but he had barely managed to cross the first leap. Even the great shaman had only crossed the second. If this was a beast that had taken on a different form, he had to act quick, lest they offend some powerful spirit-beast.
Morok shot to his feet and forcefully ripped his perception back into his body. Fighting through the discomfort of such an action, he raced to the two younglings, quickly explaining.
"I am taking control this moment! The test is over!"
While the two looked at each other in a bewildered manner, Morok hurriedly whistled twice, again using the earlier signal.
The children that stood further away, came out from the spots they were guarding and, to Morok, took their sweet time to gather once again.
Before the gathered children could question him, he spoke hurriedly.
"As of this moment the test is over. Yes I know it is sudden and you did adequately, but we have a situation. You are to stay quiet as of this very moment. Not one word from any of you. Whoever comes out of that thicket, don't look into their eyes. Dont speak to them. Get on your knees."
Although at first confused, the two smart ones immediately followed his orders, getting behind morok and kneeling on the rough ground. The others, although confused followed shortly after.
Once everyone was kneeling, Morok took a spot before the young ones and reiterated.
"Not a word! Understood?" Seeing the group reluctantly nod, Morok relaxed slightly.
Just then Morok heard the first voice come from the thicket again.
"Oh looks like we're expected."
Morok took his bow into both his hands, while watching the shrubbery. The other voice speaking in that weird language answered once again.
"What do you mean my fault?! I'm as graceful as you could expect of me!" The other voice responded in an exasperated tone.
Just then, morok saw them for the first time as the two strangers exited the basin.
The leading figure was a tall and we'll built woman, likely the one leaving the easy to follow tracks. She was barefoot and only clad in a few furs, likely from some wasteland animals. The furs did nothing to hide the parts of her body that clothing would normally cover. She was a good two meters tall and very broad shouldered. But Morok had no intention to leer at such a being. The way the furs were draped across her body, showed that she seemed to follow some social convention she did not really care for.
Morok was now sure that this was some beast in a different form. The gait was too unsure, even over flat ground to belong to some humanoid that had spent their entire life in a two legged form. One look into the massive woman's slitted eyes cemented his guess as fact in his mind, as those were the eyes of a predator.
Instantly Morok lowered himself onto one knee at the forefront of the kneeling children, with his hands before him, palms upwards holding his bow in a guesture of submission.
"Honoured guests" Morok began in somewhat rusty draconic, lowering his eyes to the ground, as to never again look the predator in the eyes.
"I am Morok O'ktan, First Ranger of the open sky tribe. Those behind me are the children of the tribes. I was not aware of your visit before, therefore I am unable to offer tribute. I am terribly sorry and I hope I have not caused offence."
With his eyes locked onto a particularly interesting pebble on the ground, Morok could not make out how the two people reacted, but he heard them walk up towards their group, only stopping a few strides away.
The one that spoke in that strange language asked something, and the other one answered, again in draconic.
"Oh, these are the old ways. Ages ago, the mortal races, with the help of a few immortal beings came up with a way to conduct themselves, as to bridge the gap between cultures. This is the way they show deference to beings like us."
The other one hummed appreciatively at the answer, but remained silent. Morok, with his gaze still on the ground, could only make out the two pairs of bare feet standing before him. One pair was caked in mud and general debris, while the other one was completely pristine.
The dirty pair of feet walked up to morok and reached downwards to take his bow into their hands. His heart started hammering In his chest as he saw the sharp and slightly curved fingernails on the hand that took his bow, thankful for the lesson of the elder shaman had imparted on him.
In a somewhat stilted orcish, the beast spoke again, this time addressing Morok.
"You may rise Morok O'ktan, we hold no hostility. We claim guest rights, to share your camp. We are but two travelers as of now. In exchange for unhindered passage, we offer a boon."
Morok was stunned, not only at the seemingly ancient orcish dialect, but at the meaning of the words the predator had spoken.
The meaning of claiming "guest rights" was something from before the tribes came together. That the beast claimed such an ancient tradition spoke of its age, and cemented his belief in his current plan of action.
"Thank you honoured guests. If I may be so bold, the shamans at the main camp may be of more help than I am. I was taught only a little of the old ways, and I mean no disrespect."
The beast woman spoke again, this time in a more relaxed orcish.
"Now that the rite has been completed, you no longer need to speak so formally. Neither I nor my partner will be offended by casual speech."
Morok raised his gaze and stood, but still did not lock eyes with the woman, keeping his gaze on her mouth.
"And tell the young ones to stop kneeling. Neither of us enjoys such submissive behavior."
Morok sighed as the tension in his body lessened by a considerable degree. He turned back towards the kneeling children, only to find the pair of siblings already standing. The boy had a calculating gleam in his eyes, while his sister looked slightly upwards with an excited look on her face. The other children were already rising, seemingly not entirely understanding the situation.
Before Morok could address the group, the sister of the sibling pair rushed past Morok, one hand excitedly caressing the grip of one of her axes. He tried and failed to grab the girl as she rushed past, already imagining the worst.
Hurriedly Morok turned, only to see the girl rush past the predator as if she was not standing there, coming to a stop in front of her companion. "Fight me!" She yelled, causing Morok choke on his own saliva.
For the first time he looked at the predators companion. She was a woman as well, but taller than the predator by at least a head, easily over 2.3 meters. While not as wide as her companion, the other woman was also fairly wide, with broad shoulders. From the way she carried herself, Morok imagined her body to be made of corded and lean muscle. All he could see though, was the dark gray coat of fur that acted as a cloak concealing her body. The woman showed no outwards sign of being a beast, like the predator was, seemingly just being a normal human. That was until Morok looked into her eyes and saw thousands of eyes staring back at him.
He was transfixed, not in terror or in infatuation, but in a way he could not understand. It felt like being judged by the council of elders. This was what being judged by the ancestors must feel like.
The woman was the first to break eye contact with Morok, looking down at the excited girl in front of her.
Morok meanwhile was just coming back to himself, never having noticed that he had initiated eye contact.
As soon as his mind was back to forming coherent thoughts again, he ran up towards the predator and bowed at the waist.
"Honoured guest! Please forgive the young one. She does not understand what you are."
From his bowed position Morok could see the other children look at him incredulously, wondering why he was acting so submissive. Only the brother seemed to somewhat understand the situation, looking panicked but not daring to step forward.
After the woman spoke in her strange language again, the predator once again addressed him.
"Oh and you do? Do you really think you know what I am?" She drawled, laying her clawed hand on Moroks shoulder.
While Morok was sweating like he never had before, the predator turned to the overeager girl.
"My companion asks for your name, young one"
"I am Asha Greyskin!"
"Well then Asha Greyskin. You may call me Lady Ain." Guesturing to her tall companion the predator or Lady Ain continued "And this is my soulbond Lucifer."
Morok saw the woman named Lucifer roll her eyes and address lady Ain in an annoyed tone.
"Lucifer wants to know why you want to fight her."
Asha excitedly answered. "The way she carries herself. Just by looking I can see someone who walks the martial path. I've been training with the best warriors of the tribes as long as I can remember, but sparring with the same people over and over again for decades gets monotonous."
While the girl was talking, lady Ain silently repeated her words. And by the understanding glint in her companions eyes, that allowed her to somehow understand Asha.
After Asha finished her excited rambling about the other warriors in the tribes, Lucifer turned and walked a few paces away.
Seeing the excited glint in Ashas eyes, Lady Ain addressed the girl. "She will fight you. Do not worry about holding back."
Lady Ain grinned after her final statement, showing the razor sharp teeth of a carnivore, causing another shiver to run down Moroks back.
Despite knowing that it was likely quite rude, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of beast she was, as those weren't the teeth of any mammal. They were too sharp and numerous.
Forcing his mind to abandon that train of thought, Morok looked back at the Lucifer Woman.
After having walked a good 10 meters away, she turned and spoke something in her strange language. Despite the alien sounds coming out of the woman's mouth, Asha seemed to understand, as she looked the woman in the eyes and nodded, the childlike excitement gone from her face, replaced with a look Morok had not expected to see on someone so young.
Asha stepped forward, removing her handaxes from the loops on her belt, holding them in a loose grip.
Entirely overwhelmed at the situation, Morok wanted to speak up, to either dissuade the girl from such a fight, or at the least officiate as the most senior tribesperson, but before he could open his mouth, Lady Ain shot him a look that told him to shut his mouth.
—--------------
Asha's heart was beating in her chest like the drums being played during important ceremonies. The moment she had layed eyes on the tall, black haired woman she had seen the warrior in her. She had heard stories of the older warriors, the way their blood sang when they saw a worthy warrior to test themselves against.
From a young age, Asha had known that the red thirst was strong in her. Many of the older warriors had told stories of being overwhelmed by their battle lust, and never remembering the fights that had caused it.
As soon as she was old enough to begin her training, she had spent every moment of her free time either meditating or sparring, trying to understand the way her blood sang whenever she looked at a strong warrior. The first few years had been spent getting into more fights than she could count, until she finally managed to understand the reaction the red thirst caused.
She had never told any of the older warriors that she had managed to harness the thirst. She had always been talented when it came to fighting, and if she revealed that she could withstand the thirst, it would seem like she was bragging. And so she had held herself back all those years. Keeping a tight leash on the thirst, even during intense spars. But the moment Asha laid eyes on the woman, the thirst bubbled to the surface, threatening to overwhelm her.
Despite what the others in the group thought, she wasn't a complete idiot. Even her brother, smart as he was, didn't seem to realize. These two people were stronger than even instructor Morok realized.
Asha could feel the shackled power radiating from Lady Ain. Such restrained violence flowed outwards from the woman, that she was likely far above the fourth leap. But when it came to the warrior, Asha could feel nothing. All she could tell was that the woman was a warrior.
When the woman called Lucifer had accepted her request, Asha had felt her soul for the first time. From deep In her chest, the thirst bubbled forth. From a spot that was deeper than her body should have space for.
The moment Lucifer had accepted, Asha had understood the words that came out of her mouth.
Asha watched as Lucifer undid the cloak covering her upper body, exposing muscles like steel cables, corded along her frame as if handcrafted.
Her chest was bound in some sort of animal skin, but the rest of her upper body was bare. And what an upper body it was. Covered in crisscrossing scars, caused by a variety of sharp implements. The most impressive was a large circular scar directly where her liver was, it looked like something had taken a bite out of her side.
Across her incredibly toned arms, thousands of small cuts ran to and fro. Even her throat and neck were covered in scars, looking as if she had been decapitated multiple times, but survived somehow.
At the sight of all those scars, asha's heart began to race even faster. So fast that she could no longer make out the sound of individual beats.
The most eye catching thing though, were neither the scars, nor the impressive muscles.
It was the shiny black armguard covering the woman's right arm, from the shoulder all the way to the finger tips. And the glossy black, single edged sword hanging at her hip.
Lucifer took the sword in both hands, set her feet and looked into Ashas eyes.
"I am ready"