Storyteller Note: The following story takes place after the events of Tidewater Battle and the release of Port Town from Admiral Ferra's grip. Some are vague in terms of timeline to allow the player(s) involved to write in as they wish.
Bloody FeathersHe had expected to die. In the endless waves of sea devil warriors, waist-deep in the ocean, he had expected them to drag him under the waves forever.
Beneath the ocean itself, in the capsizing ships and vengeful storm, he had known that Olhydra would crush him with its great weight.
At the very least, he had expected most of the Cheowakahl natives inside Port Town to be wiped out.
He had not expected to succeed so well.
Creegan, the Great Maw, savior of the Old Believers, stood quietly in the remnants of the dueling circle and pondered his fate.
Success was as dangerous as failure.
The leaders of the three tribes had split apart as soon as the battle was done. Yaotl of the Shimmering Feather and her twin swords were with him . Her tribe was the closest thing he had to elite warriors and would be pivotal in any future plans. Already there were whispers amidst his people that he would marry her to secure the future.
Creegan crouched and rubbed his fingers in the dirt.
Nekalli had vanished into the jungle, unwilling to serve. "We are stronger apart," was his sole and constant refrain. The Leopard tribe had broken, some staying with Creegan, others going with Nekalli, and a few departing with Eztleegan. Rumor had it that Nekalli would seek out the Atzapoat and tell them of the judgment. That Nekalli would join them and lead them against the others in order to maintain his credo.
Creegan glanced up at the spot where he had defeated Eztleegan.
The Great Maw thought he had won that one over, but the Featherer Prophet, Rakara, whispered her words and poured honey in his ears. Eztleegan's Raptor tribe was gone the morning after Tidewater Battle and took with them pieces of all the others. Rakara had sown rumor that the Great Maw was corrupted by dark forces and that Eztleegan was the only rightful Champion of the Cheowakahl.
They would go into the jungle and find like-minded people. He would have to fight his own.
Again.
Creegan sighed and stood up. He had more immediate problems.
Yaotl placed a hand on his forearm and repeated her message. "Someone, and we both know who, let fly rumor that it was you who stole the Helm of the Dwarven Lords from beneath the Pyramid of the Bloody Swan. The wizards will come soon. The Frontiersmen will have their helm and their mask back. We must leave this place."
Creegan did not move, he did not respond. He stared down at the dueling circle hearing the words of his family, his people. The roar of the Great Maw was distant now. He could barely hear it.
What would the future bring?