[Mkguild] Nunly's Lutins - part 3

[Mythril Vulpes]

                          Nunly's Lutins

                         by Mythril Vulpes

------------ Part 3  -  Ho Hi Hock Tribe --------------


  Clan Chief Yammi sat on his throne. Carved from a single bolder, the
throne was the pride of every Clan Chief for as long as their oral
history could report. Yammi was seated on the throne today to oversee
the competition.

   The young male Lutins of the tribe were lined up on the right
side of field in front of him.  The young females to the left. In the
center four warriors stood spaced evenly apart, each holding a large, woven
basket with a lid.

  Yammi smiled as he heard rustling coming from one of the baskets and
licked his lips.  As Chief, it was his right to take whatever he wanted,
but even he understood that there were times it was better not to, so he
licked his lips and sighed. He looked once more to the left and the right,
and raised his right hand while shouting "Ready!"

  The young were leaning forward, eager to go. The four warriors just
stood trying not to smile, since the wait was part of the fun. But a
cloud seemed to pass over Yammi's face, darkening his mood. There were
only four warriors needed to hold the baskets.  In the past, the young
were so numerous that double or triple the number of warriors was
sometimes needed.

  Yammi sighed. Then he sighed again. Sometimes, he wished there was
someone else who could lead, someone who knew how to keep their tribe
safe. Someone who could guide them, help them grow into a tribe that
could compete with the other tribes in the area. He looked at the
warriors who might be chief material and sighed. It seemed he was it, and
would be for some time to come. He sighed, and and then sighed again.
Then he sighed because he sighed, as he had tried to solve this problem
before, and came to the same non-solution.

  With another sigh, he dropped his arm, the warriors in the center of the
field tossed off the lid of the baskets,  up-turned the baskets, and
thousands of large beetles dropped to the ground. With a scream, the young
Lutins immediately started running in circles.  Chaos reigned.

The Mid-Summer Feast Race had begin. A tradition of the Hi Ho Hock tribe
since the tribe had first learned that the middle of summer was a sign that
food would soon be scarce, the race was designed to allow the fastest and
strongest of the young Lutins to plump up a little for the coming winter.
Although very few were even slightly aware of the source of the ritual,
the contest lived on.

  The young Lutins surged in a twin waves toward the warriors in the center.
Then, like waves breaking on the shore, the Lutin waves broke and Lutins
dove to the ground when they came to the beetles. Bobbing up and down,
the young Lutins attacked and devoured any and all of the beetles they
could reach, cramming their mouths full, and only coming up for air when
they were about to pass out. For these beetles were the tribes favorite;
the food that would sustain them when all else failed; the food that
they avoided in the summer to allow a larger crop in the winter when they
were needed; the food that by spring they would hate, and refuse to eat
until fall; the food of the moment; the dung beetle.

  The dung beetle wasn't common fare among the Lutins. The fact that the
Hi Ho Hock tribe ate them at all was proof for most Lutins that the
entire tribe was crazy. If they had seen the way the young tribe members
were enjoying the beetles, the other tribes would have shunned the Hi Ho Hock
tribe as being crazy to the point they just could not be depended upon to fight
in a battle, but would sit down and start eating worms - or something worse.

  Yammi watched the young chase the beetles. It was pure chaos, and he loved
it.  He had loved it since before he was old enough to participate and had
to sneak into the crowd, and was strangely sentimental about the entire affair.
If any Lutins outside the tribe knew that, they would judge him as too
crazy to be allowed to live, and kill him instantly.  The chief felt he was
obligated to maintain a solemn face, and succeeded until he noticed Mack and
Goom on he sideline, jumping and screaming advice to their favorites, and
hitting each other in the arm when is seemed one of the young ones took
their advice. Yammi could feel their enthusiasm, and a grin broke out
on his face. It was time to celebrate.

  When even the slowest of the young Lutins was having problems cramming
down one more mouthful, the chief heard the warning horn indicating someone,
or something, was approaching.  Instantly, the young Lutins scattered to
their assigned hidey holes. The adult Lutins scurried around hiding various
items in places that would defy all but the most determined searches, and
as a final act of preparation, they dove into their welcoming positions,
taking up weapons, and looking ready to attack anyone or anything that dared
challenge them. As usual, Mock and Goom were busy pushing and shoving each
other to see who would be in position first, causing them to be the last
in place, as usual.

  Even with Mock and Goom late as usual, Yammi was pleased. The hours of
rehearsal had paid off. Now came the hard part, the part where he had to
march into the open to confront the unknown, to put himself in front of
whatever was coming, knowing that the fierce wall of warriors behind him
wouldn't be able to keep a pack of wild chickens from harming him. He took
a deep breath, and took on one of the least pleasant parts of the job of
chief. He twisted his face into a scowl and slowly walked into the open.

  The chief looked into the sun, awaiting the arrival of unwanted visitors.
By simple elimination he knew they must be unwanted.  The tribe had no allies.
It was the wrong time of year for traders with supplies. They lived in a
valley that was surrounded by barren land in all directions, and never had
accidental visitors. The only ones left who came wanted something from them,
and they usually took it.

  The chief's hand rested on his sword, rusty and dull though it might be.
It was a symbol of office, and he was determined that he would face the
latest trial in a manor befitting a chief.  He waited silently, continuing
to stare into the sun, picking his nose.

  Finally, the chief saw a movement through the heat haze. A single figure,
walking directly toward him. As the figure came close, he recognized it as
a human.  The chief just stared, fascinated that a human would be so
foolish as to walk into a Lutin camp, even the Hi Ho Hock tribe's camp,
without any type of protection at all. The chief scanned the terrain
around him, and saw the stranger was truly alone. As the stranger came toward
him, Yammi's confusion grew.  With great effort, he beat down his instincts
to run, holding on to the thought that he was the chief, he had to stay.

The chief decided that a single warrior, no matter how powerful, would
not openly attack a village, so perhaps verbal negotiations were in order.
He took a deep breath, and donned his royal headdress. He could feel the
weight of responsibility descend upon him with the weight of the headdress.
Actually, it felt more like doom. Taking another deep breath, he picked up
the staff of his office, and comforted himself by tracing the worn carvings.
He imagined the ghosts of chiefs long departed who had held the staff
giving him strength, and he started up the path to the top of Meeting Hill,
the traditional Hi Ho Hock meeting place when they negotiated with other
tribes to talk them out of attacking.  He wished he were better at talking.

!DSPAM:4b1b30ee217581804284693!