[Story] The messenger.

I have fought back and forth with a rival settlement for a long, long time in Rimworld. Lost some settlements and at times also decimated some of theirs. So I decided to write a flash fiction inspired by the native american history and events I have witnessed as my tribesmen, People of Lowpow.

"Chief Longnose, a messenger from People of the Hills is here." "Tell him to come in." The young man named Wartongs nodded and left. As emancipated as he was he proved his mettle on the battlefield during the last meet between Lowpows and People of the Hills. Jack "Longnose" Vasilievich has been leading the people of Lowpow for 14 quadrants and counting. He became Chief when his father died of his wound, just like how his father became Chief when his grandfather died of his wound. Wound caused by none other than the People of the Hills.

His grandfather told Jack stories of how succulent and prosperous the Lowpows were before. "At our strongest we were numerous than the stars at night, with many settlements across the Amatapoola valley and many heads of cattle to support them" he used to boast. "Then strange people armed with strange and thundering weapons started to come over the Eastern hills. Pillaged our stores and stole our cattle. One by one Lowpow settlements fell and whoever survived their merciless abaddon came crawling to us for shelter." "It is not until we started to carry their own weapons against them we held our mettle." Grandpa Old Dima used to laugh and show him a long, heavy wooden stick which decimated men with a thundering blast. "Our camp is now the last Lowpow settlement and this is where we stand our ground."

Chief Longnose's trail of thought were broken when a handsome man dressed in a yellow jacket entered his hut. He had a small pouch with him which he carried over his shoulder and his eyes followed the Chief's like a hawk. "I, Carl Saskechampaton, come in peace before the man Longnose, Chief of people of great Lowpow tribe" the messenger laid the pouch in front of him and untied it "From our leader Gray Tasmania to you, twenty five counts of gold and five hundred counts of silver. We hope to end our hostility and open a channel of cooperation."

Chief Longnose stay cool in his chair. The man Carl talked impressive. But he still had ill intention burning in his eyes.

"A fist of gold and a palm of silver will only buy you my spite." Chief told Carl, "Take your offerings and leave before you join your ancestors who happily raped and pillaged my people." The Chief stood up from his chair and grabbed his thunder stick. "My men will not harm you inside the camp. But watch your hide beyond it." With this the chief shook the messengers hand and showed him the door.

"That was not a good deal?" a Lowpow elder consulted the chief. It sure was for a hungry tribe.

"The Hillsmen are stretched thin all over the valley and many miles beyond it, no doubt. Even their men who used to walk up and down the Baba river has not been seen for days. I hear the sound of a great warhorn for the Hillsmen soon. Hence their call for our cooperation. I cannot have accepted their offer. However good it was. For we would be spitting on our people's graves. We must wait for the rising storm. Until then we sit back and tend to our people."

Chief Longnose of Lowpow walked out into the campgrounds to catch the setting sun Dasona and the rise of the bright moon, Maluna.

He swear he felt his ancestors brush his hair through the cool wind.