Savages of the Sacred Salvage

It's a decision born of cold practicality, and not one you make lightly.

These men are planning to rob your people and attack your Chief, and you can't do anything about it. You don't believe you can follow behind them quickly and stealthily enough, and manage to get ahead of them to warn everyone in time. And if they notice you, you won't be able to warn anyone at all. However, while you can't prevent anything they'll do there, you can be sure they're made to pay for it and that no one else is taken by surprise.

Once you're sure the men have gone you start out for the territory of the neighboring tribe. It takes some doing, as this isn't a route you're familiar with and night is descending fast, but you're lucky enough to encounter some boys out setting snares for birds and get them to guide you back to their camp.

The leaders of their tribe are skeptical at first, but obviously you have no reason to lie. It's a simple matter to post hidden guards near the goat enclosure and have the Chief and his family sleep elsewhere that night.

Hours creep by. You wait.

"Stop!"
"They're here!"
"Thieves!"

Angry cries burst out into the night, and without thinking you leap up and race toward the goat enclosure, joined by anyone else who had managed to snatch up a weapon as you run. There you find one outlaw already on the ground and the others trying to regroup and fight. You narrow your eyes; all their clothes are stained with blood, and it doesn't appear to be theirs.

Two are nearby, one holding off a pair of guards with a strange and formidable looking weapon, a long length of metal sharpened at the point and both edges. He takes a swing at the warrior closest to him and while he's distracted you run in and slam a spear against his back. The flesh resists, then suddenly gives way as the spearhead drives all the way through him, and the feeling exhilarates you. Only the fact that you were unable to retrieve the weapon while dodging the wild swing of an axe from his companion keeps you from rejoining the fray to take vengeance for your own tribe.

Others grapple with him, trying to twist the weapon free, and as they do, you see that he drops some thin rectangular object, small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. It's black and shiny with silver trim, and something about it just strikes you as unnatural. You snatch it up while the outlaw is distracted, but suddenly from a short distance away, there are screams and the smell and sound of sizzling flesh. Lances of red fire strike into the crowd, hurled from the hands of one of the outlaws. You feel the heat of one bolt blaze past inches from your face, and everyone still standing starts to scatter in a terrified panic.

Taking shelter behind an overturned cart, you watch the chaos and carnage unfold. You're safe for the moment, but far too close to the man with the obviously Hell-derived sorcery for comfort. And there's several of the other outlaws still in the fight. Shifting your position for a better view, you realize the strange object is still in your hand. Your glance falls on it briefly and you see that somehow, the surface of it has changed. Curling symbols of silver have appeared across one surface.
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