Nimrod (Last)

"Why are they even allowed here?? They're loud, they're smelly, rude, and they break up all our stuff! Last time, a cyclops sat on some poor nimm's house, and it took him a week to repair his belongings...WITH help!"

"Quit whining, Nimra. It's tradition, and we Nimms have been doing this for hundreds of years. We brought enough prey, so your clearly missing catch won't affect the banquet. So what happens to be the name of the only creature you brought back?"

"Name's Alban." Alban's sharp eyes scrutinized the old man, wary. He could tell that this was someone he could not beat as of now, though he had no idea why. His muscles tensed up, almost in the expectance of a hasty retreat.

"Hah. You look strong, and your muscles hold a lot of raw power. It's a shame you have no technique in your movements at all." The man stood directly before Alban while poking and prodding the latter's body, almost as if to provoke him. Alban wasn't very content with some old man treating him like a new toy, but he pretty much had no other option than to let him do as he likes. The old man was way too strong for Alban to cheese a victory through tricks and traps, at least based on what Alban had on hand at the moments.

Nimra gawped at the imposing savage man being completely suppressed by her dad. She was a bit ashamed at her dad's actions, always hating when he would do something like that. "You musclebound dummy of a father, the festival is starting soon right? You can't stay here for like 5 hours okay?" The two then left, Nimra sheepishly pulling her father away while apologetically looking at Alban.

"Yo. I haven't seen a star as bright as you around here before. You're new right? You'll probably need to be shown around the places of the town Nimra couldn't show you." The voice of Minlark found its way to Alban's ears, breaking his rigid posture. Minlark got up and patted Alban's shoulder, his expression presenting one of sympathy.

"You're tough, but he's in a whole other league. We don't get many outsiders around here...but all are welcome. Don't worry about his odd behavior when it comes to muscles...you'll get used to it eventually. Your name's Alban, right?" Minlark wore an amiable smile on his face, to which Alban found pretty refreshing.

"Yeah. And hey, what do you mean by I'll get used to it...?"

"Pwehehe. It's better for you to just accept it. If you were thin and frail like me, he'd give up on you pretty quick if you weren't to work out. But you're chiseled like that statue of our village's founder. Next you'll hear him talking about 'Ooooh, you remind me of myself in my youth!' Priceless. You gonna take up my offer to show ya around, bud?"

"Ah...haha. Yeah, lead the way Minlark."

"No need to look so scared, he's pretty friendly when you get to know him. And you can just call me Lark, I hate that whole nim thing anyways." Lark then walked towards the right of the plaza, strolling along while humming softly. Alban controlled his shivering body and followed the poetic looking nimm around.

"And so, this is the General Store! I don't think you have any gelds on ya seeing as you're straight from the beach, so lemme show you what one looks like." Lark's hands rummaged around in his pockets before bringing out what appeared to be a metallic peppermint. The white coin had a red spiral in the middle, the rich color greatly resembling the moonlight. Lark put the coin in Alban's hand, winking a little as he did it.

Alban's expression was grave, his countenance proclaiming a chary mien. "How do you know I'm from the beach?"

"I'm a real prophet." A wink and a smile calmly replied to Alban's distrustful query. Alban sized Lark up carefully, his senses telling him that the nimm was absolutely no threat. He was loathe to fully believe something so easy, though.

"I assure you, I'm no harm. Nor will I be. You're the brightest yet darkest star that will ever be found in this world, so being against you would be...disadvantageous. I'd rather be your friend, bud." Lark's smile did not fade for even a second, although his hands were gesturing a sign of peace. Alban reluctantly calmed down, clearly suspicious of Lark but arriving at the conclusion that he couldn't do anything about it. The nimm had been an uncountable number of times, yet here he still stood.

"Oh wow, I thought you were gonna have to kill me a few times first. Nice job reining in that temper of yours, dude. Alllright, you've seen the store so let's go to the lake. You're gonna need a bath."

"How come?"

"It'll make things more convenient for you. While we Nimms are a little too accepting, those others tribes coming today will be a wee bit suspicious of a mysterious bloody man." Alban agreed with that notion, as he would be pretty cautious about a random bloody guy in a time of peace. At least if they were in a village.

Lark led Alban along the village, soon arriving at a purple lake. "Enjoy your bath bud. You'll feel like a new man after using the lake." Lark gave Alban a thumbs up and left the area.

Alban stored his clothes in his inventory and submerged himself within the lake, cutting off his breathing. The water was warm and comfortable, gently washing at his bloodstained body. He found it a bit odd that the water flowed along and cleaned his form, but the pleasant sensations allowed him to push his doubts aside and relax in the refreshing feeling. The stirring occasionally churned in his body, though Alban didn't notice that at all.

——

During Alban's bathe in the lake, Nimra was very busy. She, along with her dad Nimral, were shucking potato like plants, skinning game, and bundling wood for the bonfire that would transpire any moment from now.

The wood was the most important, as it was the symbol of peace among the villages. The festival would start with all of the tribes donating wood from the trees closest to their homes, signifying that although the tribes were all different, they'd bind together when it counts. As Nimra busily toiled for the festival, she heard trumpets blare out noisily.

A group of gecko headed humanoids proceeded to enter the village, wearing fine clothes made from processed plants. Behind them were more humanoid looking creatures, their tails and the skin on their limbs

resembling geckos, their heads human. Each was wearing a collar, each bound by a thick leash that was held by the gecko headed creatures in the front. A brassy voice made itself known in the procession.

"The Gheckla have arrived to partake in the festival!" A gecko headed gheckla shouted, while the human headed beings of the same race bowed. The gheckla who spoke had much richer and finer clothes than all of the rest and a white wig upon his head. He had a snooty air about him, clearly exposing his arrogance.

Nimra absolutely hated them, but smiled and went back to work. They weren't even the worst that would come today, so she couldn't afford to be riled up now. The group of gheckla sat along the northern edge of the soon to be bonfire, the richer looking ones commanding the collared gheckla to add their wood to the fire.

A couple minutes later, the sound of a pan flute floated throughout the air. The tune was carried by a woman in the front, his mouth the only thing visible on her face. She wore a straw hat, much like the rest of the creatures behind her...in fact, they all wore pretty similar clothes. The clothes were loose, breezy and resembled hakama so closely that if Alban was here he'd mistake them for ronin.

"The Monoya have arrived." A thick, mature and womanly voice uttered these words promptly. The woman's voice did not sound out again, as the monoya were a pretty quiet society. The woman the voice came from lugged the wood to the pit all on her own, while the others subtly settled to the east of the pit. The woman found her way to her group, it was obvious to all that she was the leader.

In the distance, a large pounding was getting louder and louder. 'Ugh, they're always the last. If they even show up at all.' Nimra thought annoyedly. The cyclops were coming.