White-Fox had been named for his distinctive white colouring. His skin was white. His hair was white. His eyebrows were white and his eyes were a strange red colour. In addition, while most Ir-O-Kee did not grow extensive beards, White-fox had a long beard that would make a dwarf proud. He was a large man, easily head and shoulders above most Ir-O-Kee and when he strode into the chieftain’s chambers his unique appearance and size attracted immediate attention.
Today he has news. The Grand Chieftan Kicking Mule gave his favourite hunting dog one more scrap of deer meat and turned his attention to the commander of the scouts. The look on White-fox’s face was evidently new enough, “How long do we have?”
The scout-commander replied, “A year, maybe two. Everyday they press further and further into our forests. The fires on the Grigori plains have forced them to move east and west, around the men of Renth Yithi, but their path now takes them directly into our lands. In a month, maybe two, they will arrive at the great lake and then they will follow its edges, north and west until they reach our homes.”
The chieftain turned to his military commanders, “Can we fight them?”
The commander, a smallish man no one would guess to be the Ir-O-Kee general military commander with the unlikely name of Raging-Bear replied, in a low voice, “No. The Grigori tried to fight them and so too did we and the Kappa. Wounds to their bodies do not affect them. It is only when we strike at the skull and the brain that they cease moving. To do so risks the lives of our men and warriors. Those who fight them and are even lightly wounded becomechanged. No, fighting them is a losing proposition. We would only strengthen their numbers while condemning our warriors to a fate worse than death.”
“And the dogs?” Kicking Mule scratched his favourite hound thoughtfully.
This time it was White-fox who answered, “No sir. The dogs change also. Even just the blood of the creatures, their flesh in their mouths and bellies is enough to change them. Our war-dogs are useless against them. The only alternative that I see is to set the forests alight like the Grigori did their plains.”
The chieftain was not so easily convinced, “There must be another way. The Bannor and the Amur fought them once, in the towers of their foreign affairs ministry and they won. Can we not do something similar?”
The mystics spoke up, the pair speaking in one voice, “Sire. Those were men and women reinforced with minor life magics and they fought perhaps one hundred of the changed at the very most. We face thousands and they will keep coming. Furthermore, if we understand the threat correctly, if Renth Yithi or Troday Yithi falls, then the Grigori, Herthi and Ir-O-Kee inhabitants will also change and their numbers will swell further.” The pair looked at each other and then at their chieftain, “No… we cannot fight them. We must run. There are lands beyond the Kuriotates. We must run and begin anew.”
The Ir-O-Kee grand chieftain was livid. His face flushed he turned to the assembled court, “This is the best solutions you can think of? To burn our precious forests or worse yet, to flee? Do the changed not have leadership that can be negotiated with? And if they do not, can we change the changed so that they do? Can we turn them against themselves? Why do they feast on us and not each other? Surely we can trick them? What of a great ditch? Or a wall?”
The assembled conclave stared at each other and prayed for inspiration to come from Sucellus. There was no obvious solution for them. Perhaps their allies could assist them with some means of fighting the menace.
EDIT:
3 days later:
The mystics, twins who never strayed far from each other and who had been cursed with ill health and strange dreams had sought an audience with the grand chieftain. They had, perhaps, a plan.
"... perhaps, grand chieftain, these men and women, these living dead... can remember the person they were in their past. We have heard of the amur using powerful rituals to infuse items with the souls of the dead. perhaps these same sorts of rituals could be used to infuse the shambling changed with the memories and personalities of the people they were before they died? what would this do? Would they seek to cease their mindless hunger? Would they look for an eternal rest for their decaying bodies? Would they seek to destroy us for the life that burns inside us? We do not know if it is even possible or whether providing the changed with their living memories would be a good thing, but... perhaps... it could save our people."
