14 for A, only 1 for B, 5 for C. Initially it seemed the Wielder's fate would be sealed, but some counter-arguing from Esquilax brought tons of votes for A, even swaying some who initially voted for C. Very well.
The sleeping form of the Wielder of Fire was bound after orders were received from the council, tied on a zebra's back and carried back to camp, along with his secret trainee. Nobody dared touch his gem, secreted into his furs, that responsibility would fall on the elders.
A great funereal pyre was lit with the help of his two apprentices, honoring the death of our warriors. As for the beastmen... their corpses were left to rot where they fell.
The militia commander picked up the enemy leader's axes, to be brought back and examined further. They were made of a grey substance, smooth and cold to the touch, very different from the stones we knew. Its edges were deadly sharp, even sharper than our obsidian axes. Nobody knew what to make of it.
When the party arrived, the Wielder and his apprentices were brought in front of the council. One of the elders approached his sleeping form, rummaged into his furs and picked up the gem. He immediately brought back his hand with a yelp. He turned to the others and said 'The red stone... it is way too hot. Bring some furs, so that I may pick it up without burning my hands.'
Furst were brought, the gem was wrapped in them and carried away, to be secreted.
A few minutes later, the Wielder of Fire moaned and opened his eyes. His gaze still unfocused, he tried to move his arms, then found out they were tied with animal sinew. He fully resumed consciousness, looked around himself and started thrashing around, saying: 'What is this? Why am I bound like an animal brought to slaughter? Let me go! Let me go now!'
The eldest rose his arms, yelling: 'Silence!'. The Wielder narrowed his eyes, but stopped moving. Quiet restored, the eldest continued: 'You are brought here to trial in front of the council. You have disobeyed our laws, secretly training men in the use of your powers. You have flaunted your despise of our authority, you have made a joke of the trust we bestowed upon you. For this, you have been judged. You will be stripped of your authority, put to work where most useful for the tribe and your gem has been sequestered. Thus the council speaks, thus it will be.'
The Wielder widened his eyes, then started chuckling darkly: 'You dare judge me? You!?'
He suddenly screamed: 'You have no right to judge me! You are as nothing in front of the power of fire! Let me go, let me go now!' and started thrashing savagely again on the ground, small flames starting to form on his hands.
The eldest furrowed his brow and made a gesture to a warrior. The man wielded a club in his hand and approached the Wielder but, before he got there, the bald man stopped moving again, his flames disappearing.
He then spoke, his voice calm: 'I apologize. My mind was clouded by the battle, but it is clearer now. You are of course right. I shouldn't have done what I did. Your punishment is proper, I will pay for my mistakes.'
He stood up and calmly let the warriors escort him away. His first detail, it was decided, would be clearing animal dung from the sheep fences. It would teach him humility.
A few days later, three of the five scouts we sent after the fleeing beastmen returned. They said the fugitives had gone into the forest, and kept pressing on. The scouts followed them in but, after a day or so, three of them decided to turn back. They said the deeper they went, the stranger the forest grew. Trees were getting darker, larger, but most of all there was an all-encompassing silence. No birds could be heard, no wildlife was spotted and... perhaps worse... a growing feeling of being watched.
The three said the other two disagreed and decided to keep going: their mission was still unfulfilled.
Another week passed without news, then.... in the dead of night... another scout returned.
He was immediately brought in front of the council to give his report.
The man was clearly scared and it took the gentle goading of the elders to make him speak.
He started: 'After the other three went back, me and my friend kept going forward, deeper and deeper into the forest. Three more days went by uneventfully, the beastmen tracks still easy to follow in their hurry to escape. As the others surely told you, this forest is... not right. The silence wasn't ever interrupted by anything except our footsteps and we kept turning around, the feeling of unseen eyes on our backs.'
He continued: 'Finally, just before dawn the fourth day, we reached a clearing, shrouded in fog. We entered it, reached its middle, then stopped... in all directions dark, hulking shadows were appearing, utterly silent. My friend panicked and tried to bolt the way we came... he was engulfed by the fog. A few seconds later, I heard a scream of pain. An object came hurtling out of the fog to land at my feet... it was his head, ripped from his shoulders.'
The scout started sobbing softly: 'I will never forget the look of horror on his face...'
The elders said some soothing words to him and he continued: 'The shadows in front of me drew nearer, until I could see them clearly – he took a deep breath – They were not human... they stood on two legs like us, but that's where the similarity ended. Their faces had muzzles... like the wolves we met back on the mountain, but black. Their arms were so muscular one of them was wider than my legs. I almost fainted at the sight, but somehow kept staying up, pointing my spear at the approaching monsters. They stopped just a few steps from me. Then they parted, a smaller shadow stepping from behind them and coming towards me.'
He kept speaking: 'It was the oldest man I've ever seen... wizened, his back so curved he walked almost bent in two. He kept his weight on a great branch. The old man approached, looked at the head of my friend – the scouts sobbed again, then regained control – and gave a great sigh. He then said:
'Poor man... he shouldn't have run. This needn't have happened.'
He straightened slightly and kept talking: 'So... here we are. Do not be afraid, you will not be harmed. I want you to bring a message back to your chief. Tell him that what happened a few days back was a mistake. A lesser chief acted without orders. I hear he paid the price of it, so that's settled. I can see your tribe is different from the ones who unfortunately fell when I was younger. You are stronger, you wield strange powers. For those reasons, you will not be bothered again. But, remember this if you remember anything of this encounter, trespassing into the forest will not be tolerated. It is our home, our domain. We give you the lake and its shores to do as you will. But you shall not enter our forest. As a boon of goodwill, I will tell you this: fire is the key to the weapons wielded by the lesser chief you killed.'
The old man turned back and started limping back to his monsters: 'Go back now. You shall not be bothered by any of us. Go back and bring my message.' And he disappeared into the mists. The monsters soon vanished as well, leaving me with the head of my friend, staring accusingly up at me.'
The scout fell silent, then spoke a final time: 'I am so tired... can I go rest?' The council took pity and allowed him to go.
A debate started.
A. One of the keepers of fire, the same that wanted the Wielder chastised but left alone, said: 'Those monsters are clearly scared of our domain of fire. Strike while they're weakened. Mount an expedition, burn them out of their forest and kill them all!'
B. Our militia commander shook his head and sneered: 'You fool. We are in no condition to fight another battle. We lost too many, we are almost as weakened as they are. Furthermore, we have no idea of their real strength. We have to trust the old man's words, stay here and grow stronger again. They said the lake and its shores are ours to do as we will, so we can expand our influence. I'm sure there are other tribes that can be swayed to join us and we need to take care of our weapon shortages. Let's stay put for now.'
Only two choices today, I couldn't think of a middle ground between attacking or not, sorry. Get voting!
