Now Nago and his family had come from the highlands on the coast to the far south. Therefore they fled to the bay, seeking passage on one of the large canoes of the fisherfolk. Nago secretly knew he could bribe his way back into the empire with the news of this thunderbolt strike.

The peoples of Animagus and Otro fled mostly to the north, following the herds back to the great plains of Eurasia. In their stories, the mammoths were a kind of god, and they would lead the people to places of safety.

Others, like the little forest people, fled to the west, to the great lowland jungle in the mediterranean basin. They were generally agoraphobic anyway, and this had just confirmed their suspicions that the sky could fall on their heads. They retreated to the cosy canopies of the rainforest.

To the east lay densely wooded river valleys but judging by the flight of birds in the sky, a forest-fire was burning there now.

Now, the age of mammals had begun some forty-eight million years previously and for all that time, the cutting edge in survival had been the family bond. As a result, it was very common to see a lost child/calf/cub gravitate to the nearest adult seeking comfort and assurance. So a young deer, having lost sight of its mother, would stand beside a mare instead. For an orphan, any mother will do, in the not-always-naive hope that, for a mother, any infant will do. In this way, the human foundling, Animagus, had been protected and nurtured by a she-wolf and he, in turn, had protected and nurtured the orphaned Scar.

It was not too surprising, therefore, that a young mammoth*, stunned and lost in the stampede, came to be standing beside Fang in the dust. Fang, for her part, was phlegmatic. Firstly, because the mammoth, while tiny for a mammoth, was still the size of a big ox and, secondly, because it was clear at a glance that it was scared out of its wits.

*Now, when we say mammoth, we think of the wooly mammoth, but these were older, bigger, balder and more diverse: At least a dozen species of protopachyoderm had ruled the earth for five million years or so. The apes had only got it into their heads to walk between trees after the elephants had spent a million years deforesting the earth to suit themselves. Apart from being much, much bigger than humans, mammoths lived many times longer. They were also much smarter, or at least they thought so.

Mammoth matriarchs carried centuries of knowledge and millennia of lore. They navigated across the surface of the earth in vast, stable societies as rich and as intricate as anything humanity has formed. Where they held a grudge, generations of humans were punished. Where they felt indulgent, generations prospered. Where they travelled, abundant seedlings sprouted from all over the world. To say that mammoths were like gods was to miss the point: mammoths were gods. There was no talk of intangible, immanent forces; when humans spoke of the gods, they could point to them, looming on the horizon like they owned the place, which they did.

For a few moments, Fang did not know how to react to this new situation, but then her motherly instinct (that kept on lingering) took over. The first thing that she wanted to do is to comfort him, or else he may run away and get himself killed. After a few tries the young mammoth finally calms down.

Because there is no time to feed him at this moment, she will do that later. Quickly went Fang and the young mammoth (who was holding her tail with his nose) to her “”mate”” and the others for they were already standing by an old man.

Animagus was surprised at first, but then he was very happy.

"Lucky girl. I know that you always wanted to have kids. What do you think of how we may call him? Haethor*, perhaps? “ he asked.

At first, Fang look down but then it was as if he nodded in agreement.

After some counseling the group went to the south. Noticing that the old smith is in no condition to walk on his own, he was placed on the back of Haethor.

"There will be a long journey ahead. Lets get going. "

_________________
Ash: [talking to mirror] I'm fine... I'm fine...
[Mirror Ash jumps out of the mirror and grabs Ash]
Mirror Ash: I don't think so. We just cut up our girlfriend with a chainsaw. Does that sound "fine"?

Now, the little mammoth had a name, but it was unpronouncable by humans. That was unimportant.

What was important was that he was part of a Herd. His ears were ringing and he was blind from dust and fire, but he held on to someone and followed them. It wasn't his mother, but someone.

The smell was indescribable. It was all very strange. They stopped in a cave with a lot of others. His mother wasn't there. He fell into an exhausted sleep, full of nightmares.

Otro decided to paint an image of his bizarre traveling party on the wall of the cave where they all slept.

He depicted the Thunderbolt Iron falling from the sky, as well as the huge fire it started and all of the unfortunate dead in its destructive wake. They were represented using a symbol of Otro's tribe that meant "Many lost faces."

He painted himself with his newly singed hair and beard, as well as his goods wrapped in the giant deer hide on his back.

Animagus was shown with Fang and Scar at his sides.

Rifa always insisted that she was painted with a number of fists above her determining how many times she had knocked somebody out during the day she ended up in a painting. She managed 8 today, 2 on the guy who tried to cheat her during a trade (once at Otro's mat and once at the final match of the tournament), and one for every other level of the tournament she won.

Hassa was painted sitting against the supine Haethor, the lost young mammoth who had recently joined. Haethor was painted with no eyes, as it was rather obvious he couldn't see, and Hassa was painted with an aura to show he was nearing the end but still had some affairs to attend to.

There were many others in the cave along with the depicted party, and they were represented with another of Otro's tribal symbols that meant "Huddled masses."

After the image was painted, Otro took out his obsidian knife and began cutting off his hair and beard where it was singed.

This was, indeed, the most bizarre chain of events Otro had ever experienced.

_________________

Now, the many language groups broke down into their various component tribes, of about a thousand people each - less now. The tribes were formed up of clans of about 200-300 members, which in turn divided into family groups of about forty. These family groups were the unit of survival on the planet. Life could be quite leisurely and secure within the group, thunderbolts notwithstanding. For an exile or an outsider, life could be very difficult indeed. So each family group had departed the valley, following its own traditional migration, albeit some months early. Otro knows that he can rejoin his people at what we now call lake baikal in the springtime, nine months hence.

For now, the little band of refugees was the family group, or as near as any of them had. They all sat around the same campfire, beneath the mural Otro had painted. They all stared at the painting for a long time, mammoth included. It was like that music which had played in the aftermath, it made sense of something insensible. When the sun rises and the weather clears, everyone looks to Otro, waiting to follow his lead.

[ooc - would you like to be responsible for a motley tribe of refugees or just a small team of adventurers?]

While waiting for the sun, Animagus began to wash the eyes of Haethor and see if there is any real damage. Yes. It seems that there is a small possibility that they MAY fully heal, but because he was not that sure, it was better that an expert see to it.

“Do not worry, everything will be okay. “ Animagus said to calm down the young mammoth.

Those who have survived the onslaught of the impact of the great fiery rock crowded the cave. Man and women of all ages (some wounded, but still healthy and strong), little and young kids who clanged to their mother in fear. All were seeking comfort and warmth around the same campfire.

Now the one thing that was on the group's mind was “What to do with all these people?” It was not correct to leave them here, but at the same time, it was hard to keep everyone alive until they reach the southern beach.

“Otro, What is the best thing that we should do next? And what to do with all these people? “

_________________
Ash: [talking to mirror] I'm fine... I'm fine...
[Mirror Ash jumps out of the mirror and grabs Ash]
Mirror Ash: I don't think so. We just cut up our girlfriend with a chainsaw. Does that sound "fine"?

Now there was a lot going on the valley that day.

As in any other natural disaster which disrupts the social order, there were bands of desperate people looting among the abandoned camps. Also, in a much older form of the same behaviour, there were predators of all shapes and sizes who had decided to take the day off from preying and were scavenging among the many corpses instead. The valley had become a much more dangerous place to be.

The fisherfolk who had fled the previous day made an appearance in the morning, paddling from the southern seas in their large canoes. Several people ran to the water and tried to swim out to them, but not one made it, for the fisherfolk had a saying for situations like this: "Stay the fuck out of my canoe." They paddled out of reach and watched as the sea swallowed the refugees one by one. The few that reached a boat alive were unceremoniously clubbed to death with oars.

Now the previous evening Hassa had spoken secretly to Rifa.

Grand-daughter, I have had a vision.
What did you see, grandfather?
There will be famine and war, the people will dwindle, because of the thunderbolt.
What can we do, grandfather?
You will find the thunderbolt, now. I will show Otro how to craft it into a weapon, and a talisman for our people. Go now, grand-daughter, our ancestors will keep you safe.

And so, Rifa ran through the night. She found a way past the fire-line in a water-meadow on the hills and beyond that, an empty land of powder-soft ash. The trees smoldered but the upper canopy remained green.

There, in the mud of the crater she found the thunderbolt and carried it back to the cave.

Now, it was the size of an ox's head, and in those days that was saying something, and Rifa was a young woman, but she was also a neanderthal and a hunter. She had been carrying ox's heads through the night almost as soon as she could walk.

Rifa...! Is that what I think it is? Otro asks when she returns.
Rifa grinned and nodded.
You're incredible, and singed. Have some water.
Thanks. Listen, Hassa had a vision...
I know, we've been talking. We need to build a forge, a big one.
Hassa can't travel far. We won't make it to the winter camp, even with the elephant.
I know. We can stay here. This cave has good stone and we can capture the sea breeze for the forge.
Hmm, alright. I guess we can gather bones and then fish in autumn. For now I'm getting some sleep. Watch my back okay?

END OF CHAPTER ONE.
ooc - please excuse my temporary sequestration of your characters, Gross. Let's now fast forward in time. How do you spend six months in a cave with a bunch of foreigners?

OOC; No, I apologize. I took a little vacation and neglected the RP. Hmmm...well, Rifa got the meteorite. I think I'd like to do a small adventuring team, but I'll see what I can do about getting the people to cooperate.

It was winter. After Rifa had gathered the Thunderbolt from the crater near the valley, Otro set out to design and build a forge under Hassa's direction. He gathered what large stones he could to build the walls nearby, but others had to go out farther to find ones Otro himself couldn't carry due to his leg. Soapstone is common all over the planet, and was well known at the time for its soft yet dense form good for making pipes to smoke ceremonial herbs. However, it was also found that it's very heat resistant, and good for holding warmth in a single area - making it great to use in constructing a forge. A low-set stone igloo-like structure with a hole to collect wind from the sea, a chimney to vent smoke, and an open face that could be covered with a large, flat piece of soapstone to build up heat.

Trying to unite so many cultures into the belief that helping the outsiders all around them would actually benefit them too, was not an easy task. Initially, Otro had to ask what particular skills allowed each respective tribe to flourish throughout the ages. Given the age range of all those in the cave, of all the available tribes, it was easy enough for the literally minded Otro to realize a combination of these strengths and the ability of the young to learn from their elders would create a mutually beneficial environment for all those in the tribal amalgam.

There were tribes that predominantly foraged, while others would hunt. Of those that foraged, some were very knowledgeable in edible (as well as toxic and psychedelic) mushrooms. Some were experienced in mainly the edible vegetation that flourished in the lands around them, such as wild berries and various other fruits, as well as tubers and greens. Of those that hunted, some were primarily anglers that took their bounty from the sea or lakes nearby. Others would take small and medium game, and still others, Otro's and Animagus' people included, had knowledge of hunting the large and most powerful of prey. Included in their experience was whatever game and plants were available in this valley, due to the amount of time people spent here and the regularity of the festival.

It was tense at first, but people eventually eased into life as a community and shed their fear of other cultures that was only overtly obvious when they had to live side by side. Spiritual leaders would still argue, but that was fairly normal. Especially when one man's guiding spirit was another man's dinner, though sometimes it was both.

Fires were pretty interesting. Different tribes would take turns starting the fire, and it seemed there were almost as many ways of starting one as there were tribes. Some people brought in kindling and sparked it with flint, some would rub sticks together, others used a notch system where they'd have a wooden base with notches, a straight stick that fit it, and would rotate the stick to make a piece of bark underneath it catch a spark. One tribe even collected Haethor's droppings dried them out, and used that to start fires with any number of the other methods available to get a spark.

After the completion of the forge over two long months, Hassa spoke to Otro.

You have collected more than enough coal from having built fires from cooking and for warmth. The forge you've made is exceptional, and should serve your needs well. You must decide the form of the talisman and the weapon you will make, and start a fire. When you've started, I'll instruct you further.

At this point in time, Hassa had lost a great deal of weight, and wheezed when he would breathe. The closer he got to teaching Otro all he could, the more he let himself slip away.

...Of course, Master.

In his younger days, Hassa had come into possession of an oblong piece of Thunderbolt Iron that was conveniently flat on one side. He used resin and sinew to attach it to an oak handle, making a fine hammer - and the only one suitable for working with the freshly discovered Thunderbolt.

Hassa told Otro how to break the Thunderbolt into pieces by heating it and cooling it rapidly, just like what happens when a hot stone falls into cold water. The makeup of the meteorite is what allows this to happen, with certain internal structures having a different density from others. Ox femurs were used to manipulate the meteor out of the forge, and a tray made of auroch ribs was used to quickly carry it to the water. A piece large enough to be made into a wearable totem broke off, and the rest of the pieces could be heated and hammer welded into a larger tool, with a decent amount left over for future projects. Otro made smaller hammers for fine details on the totem with some of the smaller pieces.

There was a large, flat piece of granite to be used for striking the Thunderbolt, and animal ribs were used to manipulate the hot iron as it was being worked. It was noisy work, but eventually Otro began to crave the sound of metal ringing against metal. He spent weeks forging and hammering his masterpiece, and it slowly took the shape of a weapon no one had ever seen before. He was instructed by Hassa to place it in the water, and was told it would break if a mistake had been made while forging. It didn't break.

It was a single piece of Thunderbolt iron about 3.5 feet long, with a handle he wrapped in hide (to absorb shock and assist the grip) long enough to accommodate two hands. It had a blade a little over 2.5 feet long, but on the whole it was surprisingly light considering what it was made of. Otro sharpened it on one side, starting with sandstone and working his way up to the piece of granite he made it on, giving it an incredibly sharp and mirror like edge.

The totem he made commemorated the fortune of the falling iron, the lives lost in its wake, the skills learned, and the young mammoth who found its way to the cave with him. Oddly enough, all of those things could be represented by the same image according to Otro's tribe; A mammoth head. However, it had to be made in a particular way to reflect each thing. Fortune is with full, curved tusks. Mourning is with broken tusks. Knowledge is worn tusks with grooves, and a young mammoth is represented with larger eyes, more often than not. The totem ended up with one full tusk worn at the tip and with grooves, one broken grooved tusk, and larger eyes.

Shortly after Otro's task was completed, Hassa died quietly in the night. A ceremony was held according to Otro's tribal customs; A chasm was found and Hassa was dropped in, wrapped in an animal hide with his most valued possession, which was a rose quartz blade. Prayers were given to the local deity, who just happened to be Haethor.

The days were shorter and colder, and the solstice would arrive soon.

_________________

[ooc - very well done; welcome back]

Haethor mourned Hassa's passing visibly. The old man had always been so gentle and his smell had almost, but not quite, become as comforting as his mother's had been.

He watched as the body was prepared and wept large tears, which were more usually a sign of fatigue in elephants, rather than grief. Afterwards, he would return to the gravesite often, just to remember. This behaviour deeply impressed the others and Hassa's legend grew.

Animagus, as the friend and caregiver to Haethor, Fang and Scar, and as an unusually ferocious-seeming man, had automatically ascended to the rank of alpha-male, what we might call the king or chief of the little tribe. They didn't call it anything, they just all knew it.

Otro, meanwhile, as an extrordinary artificer and artist, and the heir of Hassa, was universally regarded as the wisest-man or wizard.

Working together, they were held in awe by the disparate survivors and easily contained the political strife within the group for those first few months.

Now among the northern tribes the tale of the falling star was told like this:

A great stone fell from the sky and struck the earth, causing a huge explosion of heat and dust.

Among the ancient empire to the south where Nago had fled, however, the story went like this:

The gods struck down the foreign devils with a magical thunderbolt, and this is a sign that the One True People should go to war.

Now, "war" in the empire was an ancient tradition designed chiefly to keep the young men from causing trouble at home. It amounted to a collection of cunning old women setting a bounty on so-and-so people, or such-and-such land. The reward was always the same: If you win, you can leave the circle of lost boys (ie, the army) and become a man (ie, marry a tribeswoman).

This served the dual purpose of selectively breeding for strong warriors while suppressing neighbouring tribes at the same time. To say nothing of conveniently removing the mobs of sexually frustrated bachelors from the empire. All in all, the empire depended on regular war and a thunderbolt in a fertile river valley far from the First Plateau was the perfect cassius belli.

Now, among the survivors there was a young man named Grebon, which means 'Look Out!' or 'Beware!'. He was a typically hyperactive member of an unusually dynamic race of people who called themselves the Nyamnasorr, 'the birds without feathers'. (They reasoned that all two-legged creatures were birds.)

Now, in the rivers along which the nyamnasorr dwelt, there lived an ancestor of the modern sawfish and, inevitably, the rostrum of the sawfish was coveted as the most impressive and efficient weapon of choice when going to war. For hunting or butchering, it was clumsy and unwieldy, but for posturing or hacking at an aggressor, it was unequalled.

So it was that Grebon of the Nyamnasorr was skilled in the art and science of swinging a sword, even though swords had only just now been invented. Being barely four feet tall, and built for speed rather than strength, he could barely lift the newly-forged thunderbolt, but he demonstrated the principles of swordsmanship for the others to learn.

The question arises, Who shall wield the magical weapon?

While Animagus knew that Hassa would eventually die from his wounds, it was still a bit of a shock for him. For Hassa has been a good and gentle friend for all of them in the group.

As the morning sun rises, people began to prepare the body of Hassan and buried him according the customs of the tribe of Otro in a chasm (wrapped up in animal skin) with his prized possession.

During the ceremony, people began to pray for his soul and the local deity. Who seems to be Haethor.

Through the death of Hassan, Animagus (to his surprise, but it was a true honor for him to lead them) automatically ascended into the Alpha-male of the tribe. Otro, the apprentice and the true heir of Hassa became wisest-man or wizard.

Both of them ruled the tribe righteous and with wisom. Preventing political strife and wars between tribes and clans.

Now that the weapon (made by the 'Thunderbolt') was ready, someone should wield it.

After a long discussion about this topic with Otro and Rifa, Animagus said.

"I think that it is for the best for all of us that only the one that can prove that he/she is worthy should wield this weapon. This is to prevent strife and bloodshed.

_________________
Ash: [talking to mirror] I'm fine... I'm fine...
[Mirror Ash jumps out of the mirror and grabs Ash]
Mirror Ash: I don't think so. We just cut up our girlfriend with a chainsaw. Does that sound "fine"?

"I think that it is for the best for all of us that only the one that can prove that he/she is worthy should wield this weapon. This is to prevent strife and bloodshed.

Grebon has taught us how to fight effectively with such a weapon. Perhaps the worthiness could be determined by a non-lethal tournament where the participants fight with sticks?

Otro eyed Rifa warily. She was the most competent fighter and hunter his tribe had ever seen, though he tried not to determine her victory based on what he already knew. This was because he hadn't seen other warriors in the newly amalgamated tribe engage in combat.

Rifa caught Otro's gaze and had a particular look on her face - her brow was slightly furrowed and she was smiling. She had been out with the hunting parties and had engaged in some scuffles, so she knew what to expect. She already knew how the tournament would end, but win or lose, she was going to have a blast.

_________________

Now Haethor had picked up a few words in the common speech of the tribe, (he most often answered to the word for 'banana') but he didn't need to follow the conversation to see what was going on.

In fact he saw deeper than any of them. He was not colourblind, but his retina contained more densely packed low-light motion-detecting cells than even Fang and Scar combined. As a result, he could see the vibrations of muscle-nerve tension through people's bodies as clear as day or rather, as clear as a fog surrounding them. The ones who did seem as clear as day were those who were calm and confident.

Therefore, like Rifa, he too knew in advance who would win the duels.

Interlude: The Book Of Numbers.

Now at that time there were nineteen humans (+1) in the little tribe and, as their languages mingled and familiarity grew, they each gained a descriptive nickname.

Men/Braves.
Otro, called the stonesmith;
Rifa, called the cat;
Animagus, called the dogman;
Grebon, a midget (4ft), called the hummingbird;
Magog, a giant (9ft), called the big-beard;
Gog, brother of Magog, called the little-beard;
Korduk, an ancient homonid, called the ape;
Keelsol, a desert-hunter, called the runner.
Senku, a spearfisher called the shark.
Pyot, a halfling of the swamplands, called the mud-monkey.

Women/Cowards.
Seern, grandmother of Pyot, called the toadstool.
Lendorn, an elderly merchant, called the counter;
Yaytatu (+ 1 infant called the baby) called the fat-mamma.
Lengesa, of the tundra, called the dancing-girl (or the worst-cook).
Maya, of the plains, called the best-cook (or the other-girl).

Children.
Choon, orphan of the hill-tribes, called the boy.
Neerta, orphan of the forest-people, called the monkey-girl.
Holomnor, orphan of the plains-people, called the little-boy.
Yeksea, sister of Holomnor, called the little-girl.

Others.
Haethor, orphan of the mammoths, called the little-god (or banana).
Fang, step-sister of Animagus, called the gentle-wolf.
Scar, step-son of Animagus, called the fierce-wolf.
Thoop, pet monkey of Neerta, called the nuisance.
Teeum, 'dragon' a protogoanna who frequents the tribe's midden, scavenging. Neither a pet, nor an immediate threat, but a familiar face of sorts, enough to earn a nickname, called the sunlight-serpent, (because you could set your watch by it, if watches had been invented).

Late at night, Animagus thought deeply about the tournament, because he was deeply concerned about which rules were the best to use to prevent cheating and eventually bloodshed. The main reason for this is that he had the gut feeling that not all the warriors were rightful and honest.

As an alpha-male, he was truly feeling responsible for the health etc. of his tribe. So he consoled long with Otro about this.

They do agree that the tournament will begin when everyone is ready. This is to prevent that someone begins the tournament without being mentally or physical ready, while the others are.

Which rules do you think will benefit the tournament? I think there should be rules where you should hit your opponent. It would be better for all of us that we allowed only the upper body, head and legs.

He took a sip from his water and continued

How will we do the score? We could do two different ways: 1) if you hit your opponent you get points, so that the one with the most points will win the fight. 2) On the other hand, fight, until the other is down. Perhaps both? “

_________________
Ash: [talking to mirror] I'm fine... I'm fine...
[Mirror Ash jumps out of the mirror and grabs Ash]
Mirror Ash: I don't think so. We just cut up our girlfriend with a chainsaw. Does that sound "fine"?

Having a certain "slow" tribeswoman in mind, Otro replied;

Any blow to the head would be debilitating. While a softer blow may not cause as much physical damage, it may arouse anger, resulting in attacks of great ferocity and potential lethality. Torso, legs, and arms may be best. Not to say one of these blows can't evoke such a state of mind, but it would be better to disarm or temporarily immobilize one of our tribe than to enrage them. However, I do think a combination of points and knock-downs should be implemented.

We should time the matches to drops of water [OOC] one drop equivalent to a modern measure of a second[/OOC] from an elevated reservoir with a small hole, and we will catch the water where it falls to let us refill after each match. The measure of drops will be used both to have set duration limit for the match, and to limit how long certain things may happen;

The matches will be measured in rounds of 120 drops. 5 rounds per match.

Should a fighter be disarmed for more than 10 drops, they are disqualified within that match. Their focus should definitely be in regaining their weapon within that time.

If a fighter is knocked to the ground and unable to stand for more than 10 drops, they are disqualified within the match.

I think having a point system in play would be beneficial, with certain strikes being worth more than others. If a fighter isn't otherwise disqualified, whomever has more points at the end of all five rounds wins.

A "slash" to the torso is worth 5, while what would be a deep cut is 10, and a "stab" to the center of the chest is 20, with any other stabs on the torso being worth 15. The point values are higher from the lethality and difficulty to execute on a moving opponent.

An attack that would otherwise sever a limb is worth 16-20 at where it meets the core, with point reductions the further the strike lands from the body - for example, the shoulder is 16, the elbow is 12 and the wrist is 8, but the top of the thigh is 20 with the knee at 15 and the ankle at 10. Strikes can land anywhere between those areas, and the closer it is to one point or the other is the value the strike is worth. Right in the middle would be a split value, so in between the shoulder and elbow would be worth 14 points.

As for disarmament, as Grebon showed us, it's possible to disarm another combatant without striking any part of the body, though that may be a natural response to being hit.

This tournament should not be used to display strength or ferocity, but skill with the weapon I've made. Our tribe may be injured, but none so much that they may as well have tried to take down an angry Auroch...


As Otro trailed off, his eyes traveled to his crippled leg.

There is no sense in weakening our tribe to bestow a weapon on the victor.

_________________

Now the only one who followed Otro's technical breakdown all the way through was old Lendorn the counter. He nodded and became very animated. He loved to count.

He assembled his abacus from his beaded necklaces and helped Otro to design the water-clock.

He wasn't interested in fighting, of course, but he was very enthusiastic about the clock.

"This is revolutionary, master smith! Do you know how much I can do with a discrete time measurement like this?! We should callibrate the drips to an integer of the sundial marks! Let's see, there are 13 moons in one year and 28 suns in one moon so there are 364 suns in the circle of the seasons. So, if a circle has about 360 daybits (call them degrees) then the sundial is divisible into 180 degrees and so each of the handspans (hours) is 15 degrees, and so a day is like a year and one hour is like 15 days and so each fifteenth of the hour is like one day which is divided into four - before-noon, afternoon, afterdusk and before dawn - so there should be sixty little-times (minutes) in every hour. So, one sixtieth of the one twenty-fourth of the one three-hundred-and-sixtieth should also be divisible into sixtieths which we can call second-little-times (seconds) which are like one quarter of one day within one hour within one day within one year. And that means that within one hour there are 3600 seconds which is very close to the number of stars visible in the sky, I know because I counted them."

This was the longest speech anyone had yet heard from the old merchant, and most of the people assumed it was senility speaking. Needless to say, he was put in charge of setting the water-clock and keeping score in the tournament.

Lendorn eagerly calibrated the new Water Clock. He cut out measured notches to indicate handspans, half-spans and quarter-spans passing. The rest of the tribe seemed to get on fine with just a sundial, but the more Lendorn worked, the more curious Otro became regarding how he might use the device. For example, he had always been curious as to how long it took for him to make a stone knife, and if he might beat that time while still making a quality tool. The reservoir was placed over a large tortoise shell to catch what water fell from it during a match. A reed was placed in the hole at the bottom to be removed when the match started and replaced when it was over.

Now, while Grebon had indeed taught the tribe how to fight with this new weapon, it was too heavy for a warrior of his build to wield effectively. Otro had also ruled himself out due to his crippled leg, because even though he did know how to use his weapon, his mobility was limited to such a degree that any opponent could literally run circles around him. Pyot, who was initially thought to be unable to use the sword due to his height, demonstrated himself to be as strong as a man literally twice his size.

Heh. See how strong you guys get after fighting alligators for food.

This left 8 viable braves to compete in the tournament.

A primitive arena was erected with stakes marking the fight's boundary, to make things a little more interesting. The arena was twice the diameter of a modern Sumo Dohyo, making it 29.8 feet across. Should a fighter step out or be forced out, they had 10 drops to return to the ring or be disqualified.

There were 3 sets of matches; Quarter Finals with 4, Semi Finals with 2, and the Final Match.

Pieces of bark with ideographic numbers were made and placed face down in half of a coconut shell, and each brave took turns picking numbers from the shell. The fighter who ended up picking "1" then took 7 twigs, one smaller than the rest, and determined who they fought by the drawing of the short twig from their hand. The combatant with the next highest number available then took the same short twig and 4 longer ones to pick their opponent, and so on.

Pyot ended up against Senku, Magog against Korduk, Animagus against Gog, and Keelsol against Rifa.

Noticing the opponent match-ups, Rifa smiled and said to herself, Looks like all of the really good matches will be saved for later...

Otro had an inkling of each fighter's intentions, though knew Rifa better than anyone else in the tribe. The weapon would change whomever held it, amplifying their heart's desires. Ideally, the most skilled brave would also be the purest of heart.

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Quarter Finals:
1) Pyot defeats Senko easily by disarming him.
2) Magog defeats Korduk with difficulty by forcing out-of-bounds.
3) Animagus defeats Gog with difficulty by 5 points.
4) Rifa defeats Keelsol easily by 20 points.

Semi-Finals:
1) Pyot versus Magog.
2) Rifa versus Animagus.
FIGHT!

The first round went well for Rifa and Animagus. After hitting each other in a highly professional way, they needed to do a second round, because they had equally points.

While eyeing each other for weaknesses and openings Animagus said to Rifa with a gentle smile.

Good fighting. I love a good and interesting fight. Yes. You really could say that I am proud to have a good opponent.

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Ash: [talking to mirror] I'm fine... I'm fine...
[Mirror Ash jumps out of the mirror and grabs Ash]
Mirror Ash: I don't think so. We just cut up our girlfriend with a chainsaw. Does that sound "fine"?

Rifa laughed,

You're as hard to hit as one of your wolf friends!

Animagus' combat was wild and essentially unpredictable due to his upbringing, but still had a basis in the forms taught by Grebon.

There's a limit to strike potential depending on the starting stance of the swing. Anything beyond what can be comfortably done results in a huge opening, and Animagus knew that as well as anyone. By using that as a base for defense, Rifa began to build an encyclopedia of Animagus' strikes beginning when the reed was removed from the clock. She took as few hits as possible trying to learn his nearly amorphous technique and subtle telegraphing of his movements.

There was a limit of 9 basic strike locations in standard combat (above and below the elbow, above and below the knee, torso and head), but this tournament was cut down to 8 without use of the head. The many forms Grebon taught varied in effective target range from upper, middle, and lower targets, but Animagus seemed to enjoy feral acrobatics and switching stances just before a strike. His life with the dire wolves made him fast, and he had enough explosive strength in his legs to cover just about half of the arena from a standing leap. All of this together made Animagus a very competent fighter, and just as dangerous in the air as on the ground.

It was the middle of the 4th round, and Rifa was knocked just out of the arena. She quickly stood up and saw Animagus standing in the very center of the ring. His legs tensed, but he wasn't getting ready to sprint - it'd take too long to accelerate.

Rifa began to drift. She saw enough to allow her to fill in any gaps without planning a response.

Otro watched as her expression become a blank within those 10 interminable drops. The famous mammoth hunt ended in a similar way.

Lendorn began to count;

3...2

On two, Rifa bolted into the arena and leapt at Animagus, who quickly rolled out of the way. Animagus tried to level a hit to Rifa's hands to disarm her, but she was able to divert the strike and hit just below Animagus' elbow...putting her 16 points ahead.

Rifa spent the majority of her life fighting and hunting, but so did Animagus. What remained to be seen is whether or not Animagus' inherent unpredictability could defeat Rifa's subconscious.

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Rifa saw her opening: the dogman's attention was half on the two wolves. He had spent several minutes impressing upon them to stay back for each round and his ears were half-cocked towards their ultrasonic sympathetic whining. She knew she could feint and strike the chest the next time they distracted him. It was hers!

Then she heard the cheering. The children and the old people and the women were cheering for her opponent. The defeated men were silent, sullen, watching. Suddenly she realised that her victory here would divide the group.

She knew she was the better warrior, but for today, the dogman was the better hero.

She feinted her feint and stepped into the retaliating strike, as though by accident. It was actually the trickiest move she'd attempted but it worked. She took a killing blow and the crowd cheered for both of them.