“Combat is the best option for me,” Eric turned his horse to the trail where the Wolf Tribe was located. “I am no good at with magic and gather the tribe risked a war where many lives will be lost. Better I face the danger myself with you to make sure all is done on the honorable.”
“I don’t think they will want to take your deal,” Erin responded. “They have the numbers on your tribe but I will do my best to convince them. Any contest they have against you will heavily favor them but if this is what you want to do I will back you up to the end.”
The barbarian nodded at the bard and the truth of her words. He wondered how many warriors they were likely to make him fight. It was sure to be at least five warrior and likely to be more but the only thing he was worried about was being forced to fight until he could no longer control the spirit inside of him. The more men he had slain the more the Wolverine inside of him would gain more control and it was a glutton for violence and death. He eyed the half-elf and prayed she would be able to bring him down from the rage. She had saved him before with her magical songs but there was a danger to depending on it too much.
Eric saw the tribe markers of the Wolf tribe, large statues of wolves carved of stone guarding either side of the trail. The berserker slowed the pace of his animal so anyone watching would get a good long view of him and his companion. Figures started to come from the woods at the appearance of these strangers. The tribal elders appeared ready to confront the member of an enemy tribe coming into their village.
Signs of war were obvious with large piles of weapons and masses of warriors preparing for battle. The numbers were large even for the Wolf tribe and Eric soon became certain it wasn’t just one tribe here. A large troll took a long sniff of Erin and licked his lips trying to scare her but she just sparked a small fire under his nose causing it to whelp in pain and back away. It stared angrily at her as the people around it laugh at its humiliation.
“You have come to challenge my tribe Blood Ax,” an elder said to Eric. It was not a nickname he liked and the man was aware of it.
“I wish to save the lives of many if I can, your people included,” Eric said loudly so the other in the area could hear. “The King of these lands will make war if you cause trouble. I have come to prevent that war by challenging you. I shall face those who would challenge me so my blood and theirs may end the needless bloodshed of others.”
“King Emeril is no ruler of us!” an unseen voice shouted from the crowd drawing the cheers of my present but the shaman waved them to silence.
“The tales of your battle prowess proceed you,” the shaman said. “We will have many who want to challenge you to earn the honor of slaying one such as you. How many do you propose to face?
“How many do you wish to challenge a single warrior with?”
It was better to have the shaman to decide on the number so she couldn’t argue about him denying challenges. She would have to be careful because if she set too many to fight her she would lose a lot of honor.
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