M11: Meanwhile... Cold Warning

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Another brisk afternoon in Naklin -- though perhaps the air was a touch colder than usual. Such are the thoughts in Ugalik’s mind as she returns to the tribe camp after her hunting spree at the nearby fishing hole. Her tribe members greet her with small waves, and Ugalik returns the gestures: but she isn’t blind to the exhaustion in her people’s eyes, the stress that so clearly lines their faces. They are a resilient people, to be sure, but even the Naklin have their limits when it comes to the bitter cold.
: (thinking) “I cannot stand by this any longer… Where is Father?”
The icy Sandslash makes a beeline for the leader’s tent, the largest structure in the camp covered in heavy furs. She doesn’t hesitate as she ducks into the tent -- and the wind howls distantly outside as she closes the tent flap before facing Tuaq, leader of the Netsilik, dozing at the other end of the tent.
: Father? We must speak.
: *snort* Hah-who-wha-?
: Oh, Uga. It’s you. How is my darling daughter?
: (huffing) Honestly, Father, how can you be so blind?
: I do not understand. Are you feeling ill? (shuffling closer and placing a flipper on Ugalik’s forehead) Coming down with a fever?
: (shoving her father’s flipper away) It is not me you should be worried about, but your people!
: This again. (sighing heavily) Uga, I have told you--
: And I have told YOU that we cannot stand idly by while our people freeze to death! Something unnatural is happening, I can feel it, and we need to find a way to stop this unseasonable weather!
: What would you suggest I do, hmm? Hold the sun in the sky? Command the winds to cease? The spirits give and take, Uga, you know this. Far be it from us who roam the ice below to demand of any more that the spirits have been gracious enough to bestow upon us.
: I understand that, but aren’t you just a bit concerned about the Netsilik?
: Of course I am, I’m their leader… but I also know that what the Netsilik need is someone to give them hope and stability in these harsh times, and I intend to steer us through this storm peacefully.
: (darkly) I believe Taro has taken that role upon himself…
: … Uga, I know you don’t trust him--
: Of course I don’t, neither do you!
: But he is the tribal shaman. In the years since he has been here, Taro has shown himself to be a friend, loyal to the Naklin way of life. Though he might be a tad… intense, he cares much for this land and its inhabitants.
: However, do not think me blind, my child. I have seen how Taro spurs the Netsilik to action, calling them to attack the foreigners building their fortress to the south--
: Then WHY haven’t you stepped in?! Why do the Netsilik take orders from the shaman and not from their leader?
: Because keeping peace is more important than keeping control.
: (crossing her arms) You stubborn oaf, you are losing both peace AND control because of your inability to take command!
Tuaq flinches, struggling to respond -- and in that hesitation, a loud voice suddenly echoes from outside, deep and foreboding as thunder:
: Hark!! I have seen a vision!! Woe to the enemies of the Netsilik!!
Ugalik rushes outside, followed more slowly by Tuaq. The two of them reach the center of the camp where Taro floats in his eerie garb, completely hidden in his mystic shrouds -- with the exception of his bloodshot eyes drilling harshly into the crowd surrounding him through his mask’s eye-holes.
: Ooh, my brethren, I have seen a sight most pleasing to mine eyes!! Sent from the mountain on high -- a storm the likes of which NO ONE can survive!!
: What? We must prepare ourselves, gather what we can and bundle ourselves--
: No, Tuaq, you do not understand -- the storm -- it is a BLESSING!! White -- BLINDING white -- smothering the foreigners who DARE DEFILE our land!!
: What exactly are you suggesting, Taro?
: (roaring) NOW is the time -- the moment to STRIKE!! The spirit of Snowbird’s Peak sends us a sign -- this blizzard, this cold touch of DEATH -- we shall land a CRITICAL BLOW on the ENEMY!!
Whispering ripples through the crowd, and Ugalik is none too happy to see the slow smiles of victory creep over some of her tribe people’s faces.
: (leaning towards Tuaq) Well, Father, what shall you do to keep your precious peace now?
: … My people, please, do not act rashly in this. When before in our long history has a storm been anything other than a storm? The spirits bless us with dancing lights in the sky, not screaming winds and stinging snow -- why would now be any different?
: It is the FOREIGNERS -- THEY have brought this upon themselves!!
: What?!
: (in dark, booming tones) Our winters were NEVER so harsh before they began to build their ACCURSED FORTRESS!! THEY have caused our misfortune -- so confirms the spirit who sends their JUDGMENT upon them!!
The whispers begin anew… and Tuaq slides away without a word. Ugalik blinks with surprise, chasing after her father: but not before casting a look over her shoulder towards Taro whose eyes gleam like hot coals burning into her flesh. Fighting off a chill (and not from the weather), the icy Sandslash reaches Tuaq’s side just as he’s about to go into his tent.
: What was that? You hardly gave him a fight!
: There was nothing I could do, Uga. The people… my people… they have already made up their minds.
: We can’t give up! Maybe if we counteract Taro with our own evidence, showing that the spirit didn’t send the storm--
: No. I forbid you to approach Snowbird’s Peak.
: I wasn’t thinking of going there, but now that you mention it--
: Ugalik. (lifting his head, glaring down at her sternly) I mean it. As leader of the Net--
: Hardly! You can’t even convince your people to not risk their lives in a horrible blizzard on some foolhardy mission to destroy our “enemies!”
: So fine, you want peace? I’ll give you peace and quiet when I go and fix your mistakes!
: U-Uga, wait!
: You should have never let Taro stay here…
And in a blink, Ugalik is gone, rushing in the snowstorm just beginning to brew.
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