Subject: Re: First Meetings

Erk stays behind, listening to the Telwyn's warning not to interrupt the ritual. Erk knows the importance of such things, so he will stay respectfully silent and grave throughout.

But inside, he is practically bouncing with impatience. There are surely men here needing his aid! It chafes him to delay the comfort Clangeddin can bring them.

How long will this heathen ritual last, anyway?

Subject: Rituals and Greetings

Content to wait, the party watches as a runner is sent to rummage through the remains of the tents and another is sent off into the grass in the direction of the huddled women and children.

The first returns with what appears to be a large, artfully designed axe. The second returns more slowly, leading an old man with a gnarled wooden staff, which appears to be made of a long root instead of any sort of branch or cut wood.

Kubalc bows low to the aging shaman, and then falls to a knee, holding the axe before him. Too far away to hear anything, the group watches the shaman bless the axe and the forehead of Kubalc before rising and following him to the body of the slain weasel.

The old man sings in a powerful, deep voice, raising his hands to the air, and Holn translates for the others.

"Spirit of hunger, we did not wish to bring this fate on your earthly body! Spirit of hunger, please forgive us our trespass against your living temple! Spirit of hunger, we offer our humble apologies and service to you for whatever actions we took that invoked your anger! Spirit of hunger, we expose your heart to the hungry wind so that your spirit may be freed!"

With that, Kubalc raises the axe high above his head and splits the breast of the beast with a loud crack. Several of the men pry open the rib cage as the blood pours out along their legs. Another crawls into the chest cavity with a knife and cuts the heart free, dragging it out onto the blood-stained earth.

The old man stands over the heart and draws a long thin knife from his robe, holding it high in the air.

"Spirit of hunger, I honor the pact made between you and our people. Spirit of Hunger, in accordance with ancient pact, I offer my life in exchange for the lives of my people so that your hunger may be quenched. Spirit of Hunger, I spill my blood to mingle with yours in offer of truce."

As Buchek is translating these last words, the group watches aghast as the shaman brings the thin blade down with lightning speed across his neck and gouts of blood spurt from his body. Folding upon itself, the man's body crumples atop the steaming heart, and a cry of lamentation rises from the assembled warriors.

Erk stares in shock at the act, disbelief ruling out the horror he cannot allow himself to feel. He gasps, and hears the gasps of the others, and feels a chill settle over his shoulders. Telwyn stares agape, as does Elotai. Buchek and Holn remember stories of shamans whose lives were bound to their tribes, but cannot think of any tribes who still practiced this custom in earnest. Kayla lets an involuntary cry escape her lips and fights the nausea rising in her throat.

As the lamentations continue, a young man comes forward. He wears a robe similar to the old man's, but carries also a spear and a deep wound in his left shoulder. He lays the spear beside the old man's body and claims the staff, raising his hands to the air.

"Spirit of Hunger, I renew the pact made by our people! Spirit of Hunger, I live and serve at your pleasure!"

With that, the lamentations become prayers of sorrow and appeasement to the totemic god. As if by cue, the young man drops his arms and the cries fade to simply the sobbing of women and children.

Kubalc looks up at the group sitting a distance away up the hill and motions that they may now approach. Two warriors step to his side with spears held to their sides.