B21

Happy Saturday, dear Patrons!

Bronwyn couldn’t help the nerves she felt as she strode down the hill toward the Urghat camp. She made sure the Underclaw ring on her bicep was in plain view and did her best to appear nonchalant. She was a good hundred yards from the first tents when the shout went out among the Urghat, and they started to crowd out of the camp toward her. Most of them had weapons displayed, and Bronwyn felt the pressure of their stares as they moved toward her. She’d never seen so many Urghat at once, and it was interesting to note their variety. Some were a foot taller than she, and some were as small as Morgan’s friend Issa. The small ones were more wiry and looked almost like they were built for speed.

“You’re not welcome here, slayer!” One of the Urghat yelled. Another, larger Urghat with black fur and a white stripe down the center of his face shoved him and growled.

“Don’t give this softling the credit of a name like slayer!” He stepped forward from the rest of the Urghat and spat through his tusks in Bronwyn’s direction. “You think you can come among us because you managed to trick the newest Underclaw?”

“I think I can walk wherever I want. Do you have a problem with that?” Bronwyn was really hoping that Umberpaw hadn’t lied to her about how this whole Underclaw business worked.

“I can feel your title, hairless one, and no one has challenged you this day. I will right that wrong! I challenge you! Come, face me. You won’t trick me like you did Bloodfang!” He brandished his large, hooked axe and stomped toward Bronwyn. The rest of the Urghat howled and cheered, spreading out into a loose circle around Bronwyn and the aggressive challenger.

“Very well, state your name, so people will know what to call my first victim!” Bronwyn felt her blood start to pump, almost like she was about to step into an important match back home. She knew this was more serious, but she couldn’t feel worried for some reason. She raised her fists and began to walk toward the Urghat.

“I am Goreblade, and soon, I will be an Underclaw!” He shouted, roaring into the sky, shaking his axe up and down in a pumping motion while the rest of the Urghat roared their agreement. Bronwyn circled the Urghat, summoning her Stone Fists and waiting for him to make a move. As soon as she saw him flex his thigh like he was going to leap toward her, she cast Fetters of Stone on him, watching as his eyes widened in surprise. She ran forward while he was off-balance, blocked his clumsy swing with one stone fist, and smashed the other into his ribs. A satisfying crunch rewarded her.

When she’d deflected his axe, it had flung his arm back, windmilling, and he nearly fell backward. Bronwyn took advantage of his off-balanced stance and circled around him. She jumped onto his back, locking her legs around his waist, and grabbed his hairy neck in a chokehold. She arched her back and pulled against his throat with all her strength. Goreblade flailed his arms and fell backward toward her, his feet still trapped; he fell backward on top of her. Bronwyn didn’t let go, using every point of her prodigious strength to crush his neck. Goreblade thrashed and bucked for several seconds, but then he fell still. Bronwyn knew she’d blocked the blood flow to his brain, but he might not be dead, so she kept up the pressure until motes began to form around his body.

***Congratulations! Your title, Underclaw, has been upgraded to Underclaw 2: + 1 additional strength and vitality.***

Bronwyn threw the body of Goreblade to the side and hopped to her feet. “This fool just made me stronger. I’ll be glad to fight any others of you if you want to issue the challenge come morning.” The boisterous Urghat had calmed down and now stood, looking anywhere but into her eyes. Muttered curses and insults were the extents of their hostilities, though, and they began to move away from her back to their camp. A couple of Urghat didn’t walk away. One was small and wiry, and the other was large and wide. They came up to the body and stood quietly. “Did you want something?” Bronwyn scowled at them.

“We are waiting for you to finish your looting rights before we take the body,” the smaller of the Urghat said. Bronwyn nodded and looked down at the corpse. She supposed his axe might be valuable, but the rest of his gear was just worn leather and hide armor. She saw that he had a pouch, though, and she supposed it might be a dimensional container, so she bent to take it off his belt. As she untied it, she could see the telltale runes and knew that she’d been correct. She held onto it for now, and after she stowed the Urghat’s axe into her own pouch, she nodded to the two other Urghat.

After they’d pulled the body away, Bronwyn took a minute to look through Goreblade’s pouch. There was an ample supply of dried meats and even three paper-wrapped smoked fish. Another bag stored within was filled with hundreds of tiny Energy beads. Other than a cask of strong, clear liquor, that was all that she felt was worth keeping in the storage pouch. She dumped a few wolf corpses on the ground along with some old blankets. She called out, “Anyone wants this stuff, they can have it.” Then she walked further into the camp.

Bronwyn spent the evening observing the Urghat and slept fitfully in her own blankets, off in the grass about a hundred feet from the Urghat tents. She made sure to wake before dawn, packing up her supplies and walking back into the Urghat camp. During the evening, she’d watched them cooking and laughing, picking up snippets of conversation about how this Underclaw or that warrior would teach the scrawny human a lesson. She also heard them talking about attacking the colony, but they never mentioned when or how many Urghat would be involved. When she tried to question them about anything, the Urghat almost universally had ignored her. A few who hadn’t ignored her offered her insults instead.

As the sun began to rise, Bronwyn walked toward the center of their camp and shouted, “Any takers on today’s challenge? I only have room for one!” She didn’t know why she was taunting them, but something about the way they talked about fighting and joked about watching her get killed and ravaged irritated her and made her want to see them back down. None of the Urghat met her eyes, and they went about breaking camp, preparing to move.

“Where are you going? She asked one of the Urghat that was packing a tent nearby.”

“Don’t worry about it, hairless welp.” Bronwyn knew that these creatures respected strength, and she wondered if she’d lost some respect by allowing them to insult her all night. She summed stone to her fist and walked up behind the Urghat that had just spoken, smacking him in the back of the head with an open palm. He fell forward like she’d hit him with a hammer. He twitched but didn’t get back up.

Bronwyn looked to the Urghat that had been helping him to pack, his eyes wide and his mouth open. “Same question to you.”

“Um, I’m sorry, Underclaw, what was the question?”

“Where are you going?” Bronwyn growled.

“We, um, we’re moving the camp, half a day to the east.”

“See how easy that was?” Bronwyn walked away from the cluster of tents, pulled her map from her pouch, and noted where the camp was moving. The Urghat were almost packed, and some of them were starting to walk to the east, clearly not following any sort of formal marching order. Bronwyn walked to one of the stragglers and said, “Hey, where’s another Urghat camp near here?”

“What?” he asked, turning around and flinching when he saw how close she was.

“Where’s the nearest Urghat camp? Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

“That way,” he pointed to the northwest, “about a day’s hike.” Bronwyn nodded and motioned for him to get moving. She watched them walk away for a few minutes, and then she turned and jogged in the direction the Urghat had pointed.

Bronwyn jogged for several hours, making good time over the primarily flat plains. Shortly after noon, she crested a short rise and saw the camp in the distance. This camp had twice as many tents as the previous one and seemed to look a bit more permanent. There were simple fortifications - trenches dug and dirt mounded in berms on the far side. She could see Urghat on patrol, walking the perimeter, talking and laughing. She walked purposefully toward a gap in the trench.

Her experience went similarly at this camp as it did the one before. Insults gave way to threats, gave way to a challenge, and, again, the challenger made a good example to keep the others more in line. Bronwyn’s title gained another rank, and she started to appreciate the potential if she kept getting in fights like this.

After she beat the challenger, a short but very wide, orange-furred Urghat wielding a spiked club, the mood at the camp went from raucous to subdued. Many of the Urghat cast sidelong glances at her as she walked around, counting tents, supplies, and enemies. There were sixty-five Urghat at this camp. As she walked around, poking her head into tents and receiving withering stares from the occupants, she came upon one of the smaller wiry Urghat scribbling onto a large parchment. His fur had once been black, but it had gone mostly gray, leading Bronwyn to surmise that he was old for his kind.

“What are you working on?” She asked as she poked her head into his tent.

“A map, Underclaw. Tell me, Underclaw, are you here to join us? Are you embracing your title and turning upon your kind?”

“No. I’m here to convince you to stop fighting with my kind.” She ducked into his tent, as he hadn’t protested yet about her intrusion.

“That’s a fool’s dream. We are Urghat. We fight.” Bronwyn didn’t say anything, but she looked at his map, noting a depiction of mountains at the top of the page, a forest at the bottom, and many notations in between.

“Is that a map of these plains?”

“You’re wise, Underclaw. This is a map of these plains. I use it to help guide our hunting parties and messengers to other clans.” He waved his hand over the page, drying the ink of a notation.

“Is this a clan, then? Here at this camp? Do all of the Urghat clans camp separately?”

“For the most part, yes. We tend to get in fights when too close to our distant kin for any length of time.”

“Well, I think I’m going to need to take that map. Or, I could copy it, I suppose.” Bronwyn gestured to the table the Urghat was writing on continued, “I’ll just copy it here if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind, but I’m not in a position to challenge you. I will have to tell others that you’ve done this, though.” He sighed heavily and stood up, moving away from the table. Bronwyn nodded, pulled out her mapping supplies, and began to copy his detailed map of the region. It had notations for dozens of different ruins, little circles for the different clan camps, including the names of the clan leaders.

“Are these clan leaders all Underclaws?” she asked while she was writing.

“No. Underclaws are part of the Ur-clan. They, you, serve under the Overclaw and have authority over normal clan leaders.”

“I do, do I? So if I order you all to act, you will have to listen?”

“No, it’s not as simple. You haven’t been accepted. You have authority, thanks to the ring on your arm, that protects you from murder, but until the Overclaw accepts you, your commands will have no weight.”

“Mmhmm, makes sense. Okay, what’s your name?”

“Bonechew.” As he spoke, Bronwyn finished the last notes on the map and began to roll it up when a notification surprised her:

***Congratulations! You’ve learned the skill: Cartography - Basic.***

“Alright, thanks, Bonechew.” Bronwyn rolled her new map up, tucking it into her pouch. She wondered how the new skill would help. Would she be able to draw faster or more accurately? She’d have to do some experimentation, but for now, she wanted to eat something and get some sleep.