Role

Chapter 3

Pititti sat by a tranquil stream, far enough away from the Grinning Skulls
Village that she could barely hear the grunting and commotion of the orcs. She
had gathered together a small pile of clay-laden mud, and she patted it with
her dirty hands. She looked around for inspiration, and spotted a little
rabbit chewing at some brush across the stream. Working deftly, Piti began to
shape the mud with her fingers and claws, and before long a little clay rabbit
sat by the stream. Crude work, but recognizable. Piti grinned at her artwork,
her sharp little teeth glinting in the sun. The sculpture complete, she stood
up and grabbed her bow from where it leaned against a tree. The rabbit, the
living one, was soon swinging dead from her belt as she skipped merrily back
to the Grinning Skulls Village. The clay sculpture sagged and dried by the
stream, forgotten.

When she arrived back in the village, Pititti was chastised by the fat old
shaman of the Thorntooth clan. The shaman said the princess must stay in the
camp to be an inspiration for the other Thorntooths. Piti bore the harsh words
with smiling complacency. She was the princess, and she could do what she
wanted. Besides, what was more inspiring than bringing home meat? Other
royalty of the old clans were satisfied to be figureheads in their various
sections of the village, growing fat and slow and allowing the raiders to
provide for them. Pititti found that boring. And so, she behaved as a raider
herself.

Pititti brought her rabbit to the meat hut, where she handed it to the filthy,
massive orc that butchered kills for the clan.

"Yuh," said the orc butcher. "Gob gob bring MEAT! Keep brings meat. Bring
GLORY to clan!"

Glory to the clan! That sounded pretty good to Piti. She licked the rabbit
blood from her little fingers and considered what glory meant exactly.
Whatever it was, she probably wanted it.