Bill’s fur ruffled in the wind as his legs swiftly brought him into camp, his scarf trailing behind him. The smudges of dirt made it hard to see, but that is the price of traveling hard. Onlookers saw Bill pull out a small canteen and a cloth, then start to groom himself. The cloth quickly became blacken with the amount of dirt coming from his fur.
He arrived early for once, the party was just starting to liven up. Here there were some gogs still bringing in seats, and the smell of something roasting was permuting the air. Several other gogs started to come, dressed in several different fashions, unen, talocols and a few others. Bill sat in a small cushioned chair, looking towards the center of the room.
Who should he talk to ? What should he say? Bill wondered.
He sat for a bit, and decided to speak to everyone he could meet, but that the Karovians and Tla’loc’alans were likely to be more receptive to his ideas. The Unenese, he would have to focus on the autonomy part of his “System”. Brezans, if any show up , would be hard to speak with, perhaps he could find someone that could persuade them.
As the party started to pick up, Bill took a deep breath, and started to make his rounds.
The pavillion tent spread out around him was vast. It was made of four smaller tents which formed a circle around Bo’gan’s mound of hides and cushions used as both chair and throne.
Bill sent a glance at the mighty Bo’gan.
The heavy-set Olgog was dressed in a suit of plates of armorfiend hide. It’s grey bumpy surface was full of calcifications and highly ferrous bone matter. Heavy-set and brooding, the Olgog chieftain had lost his dearest friend, and was filled with a deep depression that he could not shake. It filled every one of Bo’gan’s actions. His face only brightened as he looked upon the exquisite curves of the Unenese female who leaned in at his side.
“Tell me something,” she purred, “What is stopping a strong Alpha like you from just invading the rogue tribes and forcing them to bend both knees?”
His brow crinkled in anger as he answered, “Kotine the Krato always raised me to respect all creatures. For even the most powerless beings might one day free the universe. He said those words a lot. When his people, the Krato, were slaves of the K’ias, they were spat on by all the other species. They were driven to the deepest tunnels of Dokrice. They went so deep that the pressure would have just crushed other beings, but they survived. And they fought in their own way to free their people. Their rebellion at the key moment in the defense of Giz’han caused the city to fall to the Peace of Falos forces. The Krato handed over the City of the K’ias and their criminal masters in exchange for their own freedom from servitude. The weakest beings in the K’ias Empire, freed the universe that day so many millenia ago.”
“Thats a lot of deep thoughts for a gog with such big muscles?” said the Unenese beauty.
“Thank you sweet one,” replied Bo’gan, “You keep up with such flattery and I might have to keep you at the end of the night.”
“I might be agreeable to that,” said the Unenese female seductively.
Bo’gan saw a little Bastard wandering around, and motioned him over.
“Who’er you?” asked Bo’gan.
“Scribe, sir,” said the bastard, showing off his impressive runic samples, “I travel these lands providing excellent runes to discening clients.”
Bo’gan motioned over Oliver, his second in command, and said, “I like this bastard. He’s got rocks coming in here saying he can tattoo better than Olgog tribals. And he’s got the artwork to prove it.
I want him contracted, as the Earthers say. I want his runes on our armor and weapons. Work out a deal, and make it happen Oliver.”
“Yes Sir,” replied Oliver, escorting the bastard to a darker section of the tent, where a table and pair of drinking mugs were soon placed by servants.
Bo’gan had the Unenese female give him a dance as he listed to the conversations around the room. The Unenese female took up a position on his lap and rested his hands on her hips. She began to sway and undulate.
Bo’gan looked off to his right and saw Lalder of the Auf Lal’al and Urog of the Uf Mag’og in a discussion with a trio of Olgog merchants who supplied food caravans from the Shattered Fist’s binber groves to the Armies of Eloga. He overheard them discussing how the UtR and the Armies of Eloga could live in harmony. Interesting, he thought. Until that moment he realized how close the borders of the UtR had encroached around his holdings. Bo’gan had made the point of not expanding the borders since returning to power. Yet the lands had been gobbled up by upstart nations anyway. Maybe Eloga had been right. A march to the Colonial border and subjugate every tribe that refused it. Use a third party thug like Tladol to take the attention of the enemies we make…
Bo’gan shook his head. Strange memories flooded him tonight, despite the alluring scent of the female.
She suddenly giggled and he looked up, “What is it?”
“That little wierdo over just juggled a stone into one of my crew-mate’s cleavage while playing a lute,” the Unenese female said as she cooed at Bo’gan.
“What’s so funny about that?” asked Bo’gan.
“He said That’s what I call sanctuary!” and she began giggling again.