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An excerpt from Chapter 1 of Forest Folk.

The first to arrive was the head of the Fourth tribe, a drunkard and comedian - The most lighthearted of all the chiefs and easily my personal favourite. He’s never rude like the others, just funny. He embodies the spirit of his band perfectly and despite his lower status is always merry.

He stood by his banner and waited for the rest of the chiefs to arrive…

The second to arrive was an old, withered man representing the elders. He’s nameless and rather quiet, however, he’ll speak if he believes something is important and therefore provides an important perspective in the decision making involved with the council.

The drunkard tried to talk to him but before he finished his opening sentence was struck on the head by the old man with his walking cane to ensure silence, “We hear to listen! Not to talk! Your point is nothing and neither is mine, realise that, I shall have no small talk.”

The drunkard was mildly annoyed but knew not to retaliate and returned to standing quietly and watching the stars in the night sky above.

The Third to arrive was the warlord of the cavalry-band. He’d earned his status in battle and always asserts his power by riding on horseback wherever he goes. We made him disembark his horse and stand among his brothers to make the point: We’re equal in the eyes of the Gods, regardless of our own (invented) nobility.

He didn’t try and talk to the other two, however, the drunkard did try and strike a conversation with him but was made silent when the elder struck him again on the leg this time, “Shut-up!”, he returned to looking at the skies again, now looking somewhat sad due to being forced into silence.

The Fourth to arrive was a taint, chief of the trading band. He’s hunchbacked and speaks with a sly lisp, he brought a dagger that I had to confiscate from him before he entered the shrine. He’s always trouble, he also had his wife who was much more congenial.

They both stood silently under their assigned banner, the drunkard didn’t even dare talk to them - They’ve got incredible arrogance, eventually, the drunkard did try and flirt with the wife, this was to some avail and humorously (to the attends) continued on...

The cuckolded man didn’t even arouse to the flirting, he just ignored it - Like it wasn’t happening. The warlord chuffed at this and began to jest with the drunkard,

“She’s more into you than him! Well done man!”,

The drunkard looks over to him opens his arms to the air and shouts back through drunken lips: “Thank You!”,

A few of the druids by the sides started to laugh at this, we couldn’t help but join in…

Even the elder, after some complaining, started to shout in jest: “Well done, you drunken klutz! The whole bleeding council is a proxy joke now because of you and your lust! Hope you’re fucking proud!”,

The husband was still acting like this all wasn’t happening, looking at the ground in shame while wincing his face to try and look like he doesn’t care but we could tell it was getting to him.

Everyone was starting to laugh at this point, even some of the more serious of the druids in the circle started to snigger while the charade played on.

At this point, I started to laugh myself, the man had been involved in some shady political business so most of this ‘bullying’ was somewhat justified.

The wife, realising she’d been acting disloyally to her husband quickly went to comfort him while the drunkard and warlord began to dance around encircling them while mocking their marriage in jest.

It was a real show, the elder was getting annoyed about this mockery of tradition and eventually demanded they all return to silence, however, they ignored him and carried on dancing, soon the drunkard and warlord were pouring pints by the side of the shrine.

The next chiefs to arrive were a married couple from the farming band, they’re very oriented in that way - Settled and sensible, they still worship the Gods but they rarely cause harm and are rather respected in the political sense for it,

I didn’t bother asking if they had weapons, they both didn’t bear arms, they were farmers.

They stood quietly while the drunkard and warlord were continuing to make a mockery of the whole event by the sides.

The elder was still complaining to the head, who was nodding and looking back to the scene by the sidelines all while the two couples were standing quietly waiting for the actual council to take place,

By now, one of my peers in the circle had begun talking to me,

“This whole council is a mess, can’t we just give up?”,

I reassured him that this is necessary for our people and he eventually came back to resolution and began to settle down the attendees.

That’s the problem with running a tribal alliance for us in the circle, it’s a logistical nightmare, we struggle to run it every red moon. We do though and it usually gets the job done in the grand scheme of things…

More importantly (in my opinion) the drunkard and the warlord were bonding over the barreled brew saved for the after-event, it’s good to see people getting along. It’s wonderful diplomacy - That’s why we all love the drunkard band, you can’t help but love them… they can be the most fearsome foes also but besides that the greatest of allies.

Next to arrive was the other island-folk who stood opposite the elder…

The chief of the band and his son, both famed warriors for their involvement in the war against the Sudden-Folk that had occurred recently, the elder caught their glance and winked at them - Showing affection, praise, in politics even something as small as a wink can make an impact.

Then the wealthiest of the chiefs arrived bearing a military mask for intimidation. He bore no weapons and I let him pass,

He joined in with the drinking going on by the side, the three men eventually called upon for more to some of the helping druids who obliged with several large barrels,

Finally, the cultured chief arrived, he wore a mask painted with cultural symbols. He also bore no weapons.

Eventually, after a bit more procrastination, the council began, despite the fact that three of the nine important council members were already unable to speak/listen or even comprehend what was going on…

The head druid eventually began the council with a prayer: “On this day, may our tongues be blessed and may the Gods ensure our talk is good, honest and wise… Hra, muni de’fonda.”

After this, as tradition states the attendees hmm back: “Hra, muni de’fonda,” all while they gaze to the red moon hovering directly above the shrine emitting a blood-like colour over us - A good omen, we hope…

The head then shuffles his beard, the druids to the side begin signing quietly to the back, he makes the first announcement:

“We’ve an omen to tell, several dead boys in the woods near the Sudden-Lands, slain in their youth by a villain whom we’ll never know, the boys were youthful, warriors, robbed of their future their deaths are a certain sign of upcoming conflict. I am, afraid to give to the more cowardly among you, war is coming, if not the Sudden-Folk then it is the merchants in Mackra who’ve been growing bolder by the day! What is your say brothers? ”

The drunkard began to cry, while a few of the men comforted their wives - Apart from the cuckold who stood still while his wife wept for our loss…

The first to speak is always the elder who replied in his old wisdom, slowly: “If we’re to ensure ourselves to safety then we ought to prepare. At-least prepare, we needn't rush to action, it is in the rage that mistakes are made, we don’t want to cause more unneeded deaths.”

The head openly considered this idea and pointed at the next to speak, the drunken warlord…

He walked forward and shook his helmet while making a grand entrance to make his speech: “Well, I think we ought to kill them bastards down South!”, he then began pointing to the cuckold and his wife, “Traitors!”,

The head tried to calm the drunken warlord, the cuckold ignored this while his wife broke down into tears,

The drunkard started shouting after the warlord stopped: “Traitorous bastards! Fuck you! Fuck you and your hag wife! Skag!”,

The old man started shaking and shouted: “Shut-up! You stupid drunk! Wait your turn!”, while pointing at him assertively.

The drunkard turned and replied: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll shut up, Sorry, that was too much, I shouldn’t have said that It was too much, I’m really sor-”,

“Just shut up!”shouted one of the helping druids to the side, we were all getting frustrated at the slow rate of this council and by now we’d had enough.

Everyone went silent again and the head pointed to the farmer couple who’d speak next,

The couple spoke to one another in whispers and the wife spoke: “We think we ought to prepare, we agree with the elder.”

The head nodded and pointed to the drunkard who was next…

He shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m just a happy drunk mate!”,

A few of the attendees laughed and the head continued,

The Island Chief spoke next and gave no new arguments, re-enforcing the elders' decision.

Next was one of the Sudden-Folk who still wore his mask that muffed his speech: “I think we should stop with this whole war business and get to the next matter…”

After that, the hunchback of the oligarch band spoke: “So, I think we sho-”,

“Shut Up!” shouted the drunk,

The warlords started laughing while the elder complained to the head again who was getting frustrated like the rest of the circle.

“Kick them out! They’re a bunch of drunks! Fools! This a fucking mockery!”, shouted the elder, getting worked up about tradition.

The oligarch who was fed up of being bullied at this point started to shout back: “Shut-up you drunken fool! I’m trying to speak!”, his wife told him off for this.

By now the drunk and two warlords were banded together around the oligarch who was still huffing and puffing about their ‘stupidity’

Even the cultured chief started to join in, giggling and dancing with the warlords and drunk.

A few druids started to complain to each other, the elder was pouring himself a glass of liquor from the barrel,

“If you can’t beat them, join them,” he said just before downing a pint then pouring another,

The head began to get worked up while the other druids involved started to pour themselves drinks to help handle the stress - “If the elder can do it, we can,” was the motto going around, we all started drinking along with the head who’d given up.

The oligarch was starting to get annoyed and shouted for me to give him his dagger; I shouted back: “Fuck off, pleb!” and returned to the merriment.

The head started laughing and he shouted out to us all: “To Politics and the Gods!”,

The Drunkard shouted back: “To Beer!”

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