Age of the Godlings - Year 0 - Kroonensnoob - Day 10
On the morrow, I awoke to the first light filtering through the canvas of my tent. As I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I gave my backside a good scratch, making sure to take care of the itch that had been bothering me. I chuckled to myself—scratching my ass in front of the troops wouldn’t exactly inspire confidence in their commander.
By the time I stepped outside, Kurinov was already in full swing, his voice carrying across the camp as he directed the assembly of the expeditionary force. Hipponians of all shapes and sizes were gathering their gear, preparing for the journey ahead.
“Goodmorning Kurinov”
“Morning Perun, a fine day indeed today. You have 3 section assigned to you as bodyguards for your expedition.”
“As per your instruction I will keep alert of the Stygian Axlotls and do what I can regarding training and equipment.”
“Very well, I have a last minute change, I have thought on bringing Kerthax, but I believe there is too much hate for lizardmen in these Hipponian communities. And while the Spiritpool Enclave are sort of well meaning they still seem suspicious of him. The Sturmgriff already seems to be a bit more hot headed, and wary of too much change. “
“I want him as a liaison with the council of elders in the Spiritpool Enclave, to get their ideas on which other camps in the greater area there are. Where our other potential allies and enemies can be. We have the battle of the Legendary Start with the Stygian Axlotls in front of us, but we must be ready to send him out after that battle, hopefully with a larger scouting party.
Kurninov nodded and saluted me, then turned on his heel, and went over to a large group of Hipponians which stood apart, and started to instruct them. Section leaders getting their final briefing.
I walked to Kerthax, and told him the news, he was didn’t mind at all not having to travel for a while. But seemed a bit scared to be left without me, among all the Hipponians who were on war footing with the lizardmen.
Near the edge of the camp, I spotted Aislin and Galen saying their goodbyes to Oswin. The tension from the night before was still palpable between them, though they seemed determined to ignore each other. It was clear that while things had settled down for now, there was still an undercurrent of unease between the two factions.
In total, twelve druids from the original twenty-one inducted yesterday had chosen to join the expedition. A few more Hipponians had expressed a profound interest in becoming druids, which had swelled the numbers from the original fifteen, not counting Oswin. The split was still evident, but for now, they were willing to work together.
Karl Rudolph, the imposing Sturmgriff leader, was overseeing his contingent of 120 Sturmgriff Hipponian Savages. The more powerful Protean Shakers were staying behind to guard the camp. Nearby, a contingent of fifteen Mudmancers from the Zakkaramuni tribe were deep in conversation with Alfstan, likely discussing their role in the coming journey.
Once everyone was ready, we set off in an orderly fashion. Our route would take us downstream for a few hours, and with the current still strong, it was faster and more efficient to float in the water than to hack our way through the jungle swamp. The cool water was a welcome relief, and I could feel the tension of the morning start to melt away.
As we drifted along, I took the opportunity to speak with both Aislin and Galen. I wanted to make sure there were no lingering issues from the night before, and to gauge where their thoughts were as we embarked on this new leg of our journey.
Aislin was as composed as ever, her piercing green eyes scanning the horizon even as we spoke. “The Thunderbeast Circle is committed to the protection of the tribe,” she said. “We’ll do what needs to be done. And I’ve made it clear to the others that we must respect your leadership and the need for cooperation.”
Galen, on the other hand, was more relaxed in the water, his oversized ears twitching as he spoke. “We’ve decided on a name,” he said with a slight grin. “In honor of the beast that stands by the First Son, we’ll call ourselves the Ghostmarsh Druidic Society.” He glanced over at Scooter, who seemed to perk up at the mention of his name, making me wonder just how much the hyena understood.
Both Aislin and Galen seemed pacified for now, though I could tell this peace was temporary. The differing philosophies between the two groups were too deep to be fully resolved overnight. I had no doubt that there would be more trouble down the road, but at least for now, they were willing to put their differences aside for the greater good.
It was first while on the journey that I learned that our destination, the Sturmgriff main camp. was called Hearttrain Hold. Well me choosing the Hipponian race had possibly set some of the starting lore and borrowed from my culture, in a strange way. That could be expected of other gods chosen race.
The sun was high in the sky when Karl Rudolph and his guards signaled that it was time to leave the river. We had reached a small fork to the left, where a smaller tributary fed into the larger river. The water was shallower here, and the jungle denser. It was clear that the leisurely pace of our river journey was over.
We waded ashore and began the grueling trek through the jungle. The thick underbrush and towering trees made the going slow, at least for the first 20 Hipponians, after that a small path emerged in their steps. At the end of our column, it was a almost a dirt road, I guess thats one way to build roads.
Around 150 Hipponians crashing through the dense jungle made quite the ruckus. The noise alone was enough to deter any predators lurking in the underbrush, and we marched undisturbed. The cacophony of snapping branches, rustling leaves, and heavy footsteps echoed through the trees, a testament to the sheer force of our expedition.
The newly minted druids, their numbers now split between the Thunderbeast Circle and the Ghostmarsh Druidic Society, had received some of the same quests as I had.
To inspect lifeforms and tame a wild beast. This task had filled them with a mix of excitement and determination, though it also presented a potential challenge. The urge to stop and study every interesting plant or bug was strong among them, especially for the druids who felt a deep connection to the natural world.
I had made it clear, however, that they were not to slow down the column. “We’re on a mission,” I reminded them sternly as we began our march. “There will be time to study the flora and fauna once we’ve reached our destination. For now, keep your focus on the path ahead.”
The druids nodded, understanding the urgency of our journey. Still, I noticed the occasional glances they cast at the surrounding jungle, their curiosity barely restrained. Every now and then, one of them would reach out to touch a particularly interesting plant or observe a passing insect, but they quickly caught themselves and hurried to keep pace with the group.
As we made camp for the night, our column settled into the smaller river, filling it to the brim with the bodies of Hipponians resting in the water. The river provided a natural barrier, sheltering us from land predators, though we still posted sentries to patrol the perimeter. The constant buzz of insects and the gentle lapping of water against the riverbanks created a surprisingly soothing atmosphere, a brief respite from the day’s march.
After ensuring that everything was in order, I sought out Karl Rudolph, who was standing at the edge of the camp, gazing into the darkening jungle with a troubled expression. It was clear that something weighed heavily on his mind, so I approached him, knowing that we needed to discuss his father, the grim Wulfgar, and the customs of the Sturmgriff tribe.
“Karl Rudolph,” I began, “tell me more about your father and the ways of your people. We’ll likely encounter them soon, and I need to understand what to expect.”
Karl Rudolph turned to me, his broad shoulders tense. “My father, Wulfgar… he’s a strong old bull, First Son. Immensely strong and stubborn as a stone. In the Sturmgriff tribe, strength is everything. Even our greetings reflect that—handshakes are not just a formality, but a way to show your strength to the other person. Arm wrestling is also a big tradition, a way to prove who’s stronger without drawing blood.”
I nodded, filing away the information. “And Wulfgar himself? What can you tell me about him?”
Karl Rudolph sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground. “He’s old, but don’t let that fool you. He’s still as tough as they come. In our tribe, he’s the undisputed leader. There are seven smaller camps along the river, each led by a respected warrior, but all of them answer to my father. When it comes to major decisions, he calls in the leadership of those camps, but it’s not for consultation. It’s to communicate his decisions, his dictations, really.”
“We’ll likely reach the first of these camps tomorrow,” Karl Rudolph continued, “but the main tribal center is where my father reigns. That’s where you’ll meet him.”
There was a brief pause before Karl Rudolph spoke again, and I could sense the anxiety in his voice. “First Son, I need to tell you something. My father… he’s willing to help the Zakkaramunian tribe, but he won’t abandon the ancestral grounds of the Sturmgriff tribe. If you want his full support, you may have to challenge him. And if you win that trial—by killing him—you’ll become the new leader of the tribe.”
He hesitated, clearly struggling with his words. “But… that would leave me in a terrible position. My father dead, stripped of leadership… I know it’s honorable by our customs, but I can’t help but feel… conflicted.”
I looked at him, understanding the weight of his words. “Is there no other way to convince him?” I asked, hoping for an alternative solution.
Karl Rudolph shook his head slowly. “I’ve thought about it, but… my father doesn’t see the world like most do. To him, honor and strength are everything. If he sees you as a threat or as someone who might take his power, he’ll demand a trial. And if you refuse, he’ll see it as a sign of weakness, which would only make things worse. I wish there was another way, but I can’t see any that he would deem honorable.”
I could see the anguish in Karl Rudolph’s eyes, torn between his loyalty to his father and his duty to his tribe. The path ahead was clear, but it was fraught with danger and difficult choices. If it came to a trial with Wulfgar, I would have to prove myself in a way that left no doubt about my strength and leadership, but at what cost?
“Thank you for telling me this, Karl Rudolph,” I said quietly. “I understand the position you’re in, and I don’t take it lightly. We’ll face what comes, and we’ll do it with honor.”
Karl Rudolph nodded, and started speaking. “I just hope…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence.
Without warning, the piercing shriek of the Peryton echoed through the night, only now it was deeper, more resonant, filled with a primal menace. Before I could react, the beast was upon me, its massive wings blotting out the stars as it swooped down with terrifying speed.
The Peryton’s iron-like talons clamped around my torso, lifting me off the ground in a single, brutal motion. The force of the grab knocked the air from my lungs, a surely bending my ribs but failing to pierce my awesome Perythorax, the iron-feathered hoodie made from the mate of this very beast. It was clear that the Nemesis relationship between me and the Peryton had driven the creature to evolve, growing larger and more deadly, or it was something else going on in this world, I had no clue, other than it was much bigger now.
It still had the head of a stag with iron antlers, iron claws and iron feathers, but its size and strength had increased dramatically.
As the Peryton began to ascend, Karl Rudolph’s instincts kicked in. The creature swooped past him, Perun in its grasp, and without a second thought, Karl lunged forward, grabbing onto its tail feathers with both hands. He felt the sharp edges of the feathers cut into his palms, but he held on with all his might, knowing that if he let go, Perun would be lost.
The Peryton screeched in fury, flapping its wings harder to gain altitude. It dragged Karl through the treetops, the branches whipping at him as they flew over the jungle. The creature struggled to maintain its flight, after a few seconds it seemed to steady and climb even higher.
Karl Rudolph knew that he had to do something, but he was holding on for dear life with both arms, what could be done.
Then from the shine of the moonlight, he could see the reflections of the iron feathers, and just below the tail feathers there was a circular absence of reflections.
Karl Rudolph decided that he had to act now, and decisively if both he and the First Son were to survive this.
With a roar he lifted himself in the tail feathers, a bit like a chin up, and jammed his head into the cloaca of the Peryton, driving his tusks into the soft vulnerable tissue inside.
The Peryton let out an ear-splitting screech, its body convulsing violently as Karl thrashed his head, rending the soft tissue with his tusks
He twisted with his bulging neck muscles and mangled the avian vent with his tusks.
The creature’s flight became erratic, its wings beating wildly as it lost control. Karl could feel the creature’s agony in the way it twisted and bucked, trying to dislodge him, but he held on, knowing that if he let go, both he and Perun were as good as dead.
Finally, the Peryton couldn’t take any more. It plummeted from the sky, crashing through the treetops. As it fell, Karl was thrown from its back, his body tumbling through the air before he landed, back first, on a jagged, rotten tree stump. The impact drove the rotting wood into his flesh, shish-kebabing him on the splintered stump. Pain exploded through his body, but he could barely register it as the world spun around him.
The Peryton landed heavily, its body crashing into the ground with a thunderous impact. It screeched again, a sound filled with rage and pain, as it twisted its head to look at Karl and Perun. Its eyes burned with a promise of fierce retribution and vengeance, but it seemed to recognize that it was not yet ready for another fight. With a final, furious screech, the creature spread its wings and took off into the night, disappearing into the darkness.
Karl Rudolph lay there, gasping for breath, his vision blurred by pain. Perun crawled over to him, his own movements slow and labored from the injuries he had sustained in the fall.
“Damn we need to get you of this stump” Perun steadied himself, and then heaved Karl Rudolph over the tree stump, immediately afterwards administering the weak regenerative glue on both entry and exit wound. And then popping the remaining cubes of Skulkweed preserved Stygian Octodile Liver into Karl Rudolphs mouth.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
“Karl Rudolph” Perun rasped, his voice weak, “what did you do to it? I thought I was done for, and then suddenly it screeched like all hell was loose.”
Karl looked sheepishly at Perun, his face contorted in pain. “I’d… rather not say,” he mumbled, feeling a flush of embarrassment despite everything that had just happened.
After a bit of coaxing from Perun, and lastly a direct godly command, Karl Rudolph spilled the beans, and Perun laughed, then stumbled from the pain in his ribs.
They could hear the bellows of the Hipponian camp searching for them, the sound of their comrades drawing closer. As the search party arrived, Karl pleaded with Perun to keep what he had done a secret. “Please… don’t tell anyone. It was… desperate.”
The Hipponians quickly got to them, their relief palpable as they found their leaders alive, albeit wounded.
Mordenhorst was leading the group, and quickly surveyed the situation he wanted to get me back to camp. I ordered that a camp of 50 Hipponians should be set here, and double guards, with pointy sticks at the ready at all times. Even with the regeneration of this world it didn’t seem smart to move Karl Rudolph just yet.
One of the warriors came with a skin of water, then did a motion at it, and the skin glowed red slightly for a few seconds, then the glow faded. He handed the skin to Karl Rudolph, and another warrior did the same to Perun.
“What is that ?” Perun asked, a bit dubious to what was going on, he didn’t know the Protean Shakers had any spells.
The first Protean Shaker holding the skin to Karl Rudolphs lips, looked up to Perun and said “First Son, one of the first powers a Protean Shaker gets access to is to enhance water or other beverages with magical properties making muscle recovery faster, Repeated use also contributes to long-term muscle growth, at least that is what the tooltip of the power says. We all use it daily.”
I shrugged and then chucked down the water turned into magical protein shake, figuring it wouldn’t hurt.
Age of the Godlings - Year 0 - Kroonensnoob - Day 11
The morning sun filtered through the thick canopy, casting dappled light over the makeshift camp where the Hipponians had hunkered down after the harrowing encounter with the Peryton. The atmosphere was tense yet purposeful as the warriors prepared to continue their journey deeper into Sturmgriff territory.
Perun, his ribs still aching from the previous night’s ordeal, walked over to where Karl Rudolph was resting. Despite his injuries, Karl was trying to stand, his determination evident in every pained movement.
"Hold on, Karl," Perun said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You’ve been through hell. Let’s get a stretcher fashioned for you so we can move you without worsening your injuries."
Karl Rudolph shook his head stubbornly, gritting his teeth as he forced himself upright. "No, First Son. A Sturmgriff warrior doesn’t get carried around. I’ll walk."
Perun frowned, recognizing the pride and tradition at play but also knowing the toll it had taken on Karl. "If you won’t accept a stretcher, at least let’s make a raft. You can sit on it while we travel down the river. We’ll both sit on it; it’s not like I’m in the best shape either."
Karl hesitated, weighing the options. Finally, he relented, but not without adding a condition. "Fine, but if I’m to sit on that raft, you will sit beside me, and I will hold a bundle of leaves to shade you, First Son. That’s the only way I’ll agree."
Perun couldn’t help but chuckle, appreciating Karl’s unyielding spirit. "Deal," he agreed, shaking his head with a smile as he instructed some nearby warriors to begin fashioning the raft.
As they worked, Perun caught sight of Galen, one of the druids from the Ghostmarsh Druidic Society. Galen’s eyes had a faraway look, and Perun could tell he was deep in thought. Approaching him, Perun asked, "What’s on your mind, Galen?"
Galen blinked as if snapping out of a trance. "The Peryton… it’s a magnificent creature, isn’t it? I was just thinking… what if we could tame it? Imagine the power we could wield with a beast like that on our side."
Before Perun could respond, Aislin, another druid from the Thunderbeast Circle, joined the conversation, her expression stern. "Heresy," she spat. "That beast hurt the First Son. It’s a creature of darkness and should be destroyed, not tamed."
Perun raised a hand to forestall any further argument. "Enough, both of you. There’s a time and place for such discussions. Right now, our focus is on getting to the Sturmgriff tribal center."
After a couple of hours of leisurely floating on the raft, we approached the first of the Sturmgriff camps. Karl Rudolph, ever determined, attempted to rise and speak with the leader who had gathered a cadre of warriors on the riverside. However, I waved him off, motioning for one of his men to convey the message instead.
I stepped off the raft myself, stretching my legs as I approached the camp leaders. The air was thick with the scent of earth and wood smoke, and the hardened faces of the Sturmgriff warriors greeted me with cautious curiosity. These men were seasoned, their faces marked by battle and experience, yet their eyes held a glimmer of respect as they recognized the gravity of our mission.
After exchanging pleasantries and reassurances with the camp leaders, I noticed a group of druids from the Ghostmarsh Druidic Society off to the side, their heads down as they examined the plants along the riverbank. Galen, ever the curious one, was among them, deeply engrossed in his task.
I wandered over, intrigued by their activity. As I approached, one of the druids, a young Hipponian with a focused expression, looked up and greeted me with a nod. “First Son, we’ve been up part of the night, working on our taming skills,” he said, pride evident in his voice.
He reached into a small clay vessel and gently lifted the lid, revealing a handful of glowing fireflies, their light flickering softly in the dim morning light. “Tamed fireflies,” he explained. “We’ve been practicing with insects. It seemed ridiculous at first, but every bit of experience helps us advance.”
I nodded in understanding, appreciating their dedication. What might have seemed a minor achievement was, in fact, a smart and calculated effort to grow their abilities, no matter how small the creatures they worked with.
As I stood there, Galen and Aislin approached, the former with his usual dreamy expression and the latter with her stern demeanor.
Galen spoke first, his eyes shining with excitement. “First Son, I’ve been thinking about the Peryton. It’s a magnificent creature, truly, and I can’t help but wonder what might happen if we could tame it. Just imagine the power it could bring to our side.”
Aislin, ever the pragmatist, shook her head in disapproval. “It’s heresy, Galen. That beast harmed the First Son. It’s a creature of darkness, not one to be tamed, but to be destroyed.”
I held up a hand to prevent the conversation from escalating. “Both of you make valid points,” I said calmly. “But now isn’t the time to debate this. We have a mission ahead, and our focus needs to be on getting to the Sturmgriff tribal center.”
With that, we moved on. The column of Hipponians, now reinforced by the warriors from the camp, pressed forward. The journey continued, and after another stretch of travel, we passed a second camp, this time without much ceremony. The message had already been conveyed, and the warriors of that camp joined our ranks without hesitation.
Finally, we emerged from the dense jungle into an open clearing that marked the heart of the Sturmgriff tribe. The clearing was expansive, dotted with small huts made of clay and straw—humble yet sturdy. At the center of the clearing stood a larger hut, clearly the residence of Wulfgar, the tribe’s chieftain.
As the column came to a halt, the warriors of the tribe gathered around, their eyes fixed on the newcomers. The air was thick with tension, the anticipation of what was to come weighing heavily on everyone present.
I, however, found a moment of private rejoicing. A familiar notification flickered in my vision:
[You have completed the Quest : Favoured People. You have gained 1.000 XP.
This is a repeatable quest.]
[Rolling for item.]
[You have received Ring of Cleanliness - Quality : Poor , Durability 18/18]
Bah, a spoon and then a ring that made sure I looked clean, in a freaking stone age setting, just give me my Full Plate +1 already. Bloody system.
I fumed inwardly, but my thoughts were interrupted as the raft drew closer to the next camp. The riverbank was lined with waiting warriors, their posture tense and ready. Wulfgar’s scouts had likely already reported the column’s approach, and the chieftain himself was standing by the riverside, surrounded by his cadre of hardened warriors.
Wulfgar, a towering figure with a presence as formidable as his reputation, stood before the great hut. His eyes, sharp and assessing, scanned the column as it entered the clearing. He noted the size of the returning group and immediately sensed that something was amiss. His brows furrowed, and his voice rumbled across the clearing as he addressed his son.
“Karl Rudolph, why do so few of our tribe return? Have they fallen in battle? Or worse, have they fled? They bear no wounds. What is the meaning of this?”
Karl Rudolph stepped forward, his posture respectful yet resolute. “Father, the tribe is safe. We have not fled, nor have we slighted the proud Sturmgriff clan with being craven. We have been tasked by Perun, the First Son, to seek your support. He has a vision for our people, one that requires your strength and the strength of the tribe.”
Wulfgar’s gaze shifted to me, sizing me up with a mixture of skepticism and disdain. He was not impressed. My stature and demeanor, so different from his own, seemed to give him pause. He flexed his massive chest muscles slightly, a subtle show of his superior physical power.
“This is Perun, then?” Wulfgar’s tone dripped with skepticism as he stared at me, his eyes narrowing. “I have had dreams of this so-called Lightning Mother and her sons, but I am inclined to believe that this is witchery. Nevertheless, you may speak.”
Before I could respond, Aislin, ever fierce in her loyalty, stepped forward. Her eyes flashed with anger at the chieftain’s disrespect. “Chieftain Wulfgar,” she began, her voice carrying the weight of reverence and conviction, “Perun is no mere charlatan or witch. He is the First Son, chosen by the Lightning Mother herself. You may doubt his appearance, but I have seen his power firsthand.”
Wulfgar’s attention shifted to Aislin, and he listened as she recounted the events of the previous night. She spoke of the Peryton’s attack, of how Perun had been snatched by the beast, and how Karl Rudolph, despite his injuries, had fought with the courage of ten warriors to save him. As Aislin told the tale, Wulfgar’s expression slowly changed. The disdain in his eyes faded, and his chest muscles swelled with pride of his sons prowess in battle.
Wulfgar’s gaze flickered back to me, and I could sense a shift in his attitude. Though he still harbored doubts, there was a grudging respect in his eyes now. “Very well, Perun. You have earned the right to speak. But know this, I will not be easily swayed. My people’s safety and honor are my only concerns.”
I nodded, meeting his gaze with unyielding confidence. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Chieftain Wulfgar. Let us discuss the future of your tribe and the role you can play in the empire we are building.”
I now addressed all the Hipponians present and boomed in my majestic voice "Hear me, warriors of the Sturmgriff. I have come to offer you a place in the future I intend to carve out in this world. The Zakkaramuni waterfall a fertile land, where mana flows freely, it will become the heart of a new empire. An empire where the Sturmgriff will be the warriors, the protectors of all Hipponians."
The warriors exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves. The idea of leaving their ancestral grounds clearly unsettled them.
"These lands are our home, Perun. The bones of our ancestors lie beneath this soil. We have bled for these grounds, defended them with our lives. I will not abandon them to serve a new master." Wulfgar stated flatly with arms crossed, his breast muscles no longer dancing, but just tightened.
I held Wulfgar's gaze, his expression firm but understanding. "I am not asking you to abandon your lands. These lands will soon fall under the banner of the Hipponian Empire, but they will remain yours. The strength of the Sturmgriff will ensure that. But the waterfall will be the center of our empire, an empire that cannot be built without your might."
Wulfgar shook his head, his stubbornness unyielding. "We do not seek to build empires Perun. This is about honor and tradition. The Sturmgriff tribe has lived here for generations. We will not be uprooted."
I sighed, recognizing the depth of Wulfgar’s resistance. I had hoped to persuade the old chieftain through reason, but Wulfgar’s ties to his ancestral lands ran too deep. "Wulfgar, if you remain here alone, your tribe will be vulnerable. The world is changing. You can either stand with me and shape that change, or risk being swept away by it."
But Wulfgar remained resolute. "I will not give up these lands. Not now, not ever."
I sighed, then shouted in a booming voice “Then hear my challenge Wulfgar of the Sturmgriff, I First Son of the Lightning Mother challenges you. Face me in battle and let strength decide”.
Wulfgar nodded solemnly “We will await the leaders of the other camps, I will sent our fastests runners now, on the morrow only one of us will stand”.
As night fell and the camp settled into an uneasy quiet, I sought out Karl Rudolph. The young warrior was sitting by the edge of the camp, his expression troubled as he gazed out into the darkened jungle. I approached quietly, sitting down beside him.
"Karl Rudolph," I began softly, "I know this isn’t easy for you. Your father is a proud man, and his stubbornness is legendary. But I have a plan that might spare him, though in the end, it will be up to him to decide."
Karl Rudolph looked up, his face a mixture of hope and doubt. "What do you plan to do, First Son?"
I leaned in slightly, his voice low. "The warrior in the swamp, the Deathsworn. A band of warriors whose life is forfeit, and thus they will not fear death.
That is what I will offer him. A place where he can continue to fight, to live by a code of honour, but without the burden of leadership. If I can defeat him tomorrow, I will offer him the choice: to live on as a warrior, free from the responsibilities that weigh him down, or to face the consequences of defeat in the traditional way."
Karl Rudolph's eyes widened in realization. "You mean…you will grant him mercy, I cannot understand why ?"
I nodded. "Your father is surely a great warrior, Karl. His strength is unquestionable. But his time as a leader has come to an end, whether he accepts it or not. This way, he can continue to serve his people, even if it’s in a different capacity.
It’s a way for him to keep his honor, to continue fighting, while passing the mantle of leadership to you. At least I hope I can make him see the rationale in that decision."
Karl Rudolph looked down, struggling with the weight of the situation. "I don’t want to see him die, Perun. But I don’t know if he’ll accept it. He’s so set in his ways."
I placed a reassuring hand on Karl Rudolph’s shoulder. "I know. But the choice must be his. All we can do is offer him a path that allows him to live by his code. If he chooses to take it, then he will live. If not… well, then the decision will be made by the ancient ways of your people."
Karl Rudolph nodded slowly, his resolve hardening. "I understand. Thank you, Perun, for giving him a chance."
I stood up, the weight of what was to come heavy on his mind. "Get some rest, Karl Rudolph. Tomorrow will be a day of great change for your tribe. But know this: whatever happens, you will have my support. The Sturmgriff tribe will have a place in the new empire, and it will be your place to lead them there."
With that, I left Karl Rudolph to his thoughts, retreating to his own quarters to prepare for the coming day.
Age of the Godlings - Year 0 - Kroonensnoob - Day 12
The next day, the leaders of the seven camps gathered in a wide circle around the clearing. The ground had been prepared for the duel, cleared of any debris that might interfere with the combat. The tension was palpable as the warriors and leaders watched, waiting to see if this not so impressive outsider could truly defeat their chieftain.
Wulfgar stepped into the circle, his massive frame a testament to his years of lifting heavy things. Perun, smaller but no less determined, followed, his eyes never leaving Wulfgar.
The rules were simple: no weapons, no magic, just raw strength and skill in unarmed combat.
As the duel began, there was none of the traditional circling, and sizing each other up. Immediately Wulfgar launched forward with a powerful punch, aiming to end the fight quickly.
But I was ready. sidestepped the blow, grabbed Wulfgar’s wrist, and with a swift, practiced motion, twisted my body while bringing my elbow down on Wulfgar’s locked arm. The sound of bone breaking echoed through the clearing with a loud crack, and a murmur rippled through the gathered crowd.
Wulfgar let out a roar of anger, his face contorted with pain. Despite the injury, he swung his other arm at me.
I sidestepped most of the strikes with practiced ease. He bided his time, waiting for the right moment.
When Wulfgar overextended, I seized the opportunity. I dropped low, sweeping Wulfgar’s legs out from under him. As Wulfgar hit the ground, I moved like a snake, wrapping himself around the larger Hipponians head and neck, thus locking him in a classic Brazilian jiu-jitsu chokehold. Wulfgar struggled, his powerful arms thrashing as he tried to break free, but I had some practice in this, and our body form somewhat favoured grappling and locking.
Slowly, the air drained from Wulfgar’s lungs, and his struggles weakened until, finally, he went limp.
Wulfgar awoke moments later, gasping for air. His eyes, wild with anger and confusion, darted around until they landed on Perun. “You… you should have killed me,” he growled, the bitterness in his voice palpable. “I should have died. That is the way of our people.”
I stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “If you wish to die, you are free to throw yourself from the highest cliff. But if you wish to die like a warrior, there is another way.”
Wulfgar’s anger gave way to curiosity, and he met my gaze. “How?”
I nodded, recognizing the opening he needed. “You will be the first of my Deathsworn, warriors serving only the Lightning Mother, and who have already forfeit their lives, thus not fearing death in combat.
Wulfgar furrowed his brow so much his face seemed to curl in on itself, his gnashed with his jaws, and his breast muscles stood like etched in granite.
I was not sure if he was thinking this over, or he just intended to give himself a heart attack.