The center bonfire was rarely not lit but this time it was especially feral, as if the fire itself was being summoned and anxious about the coming events. The flames danced to rising drums and with each thundering bang people marched from their tents, merging together as a crowd around the blaze. Three hunched over figures brooded over the flame, one wore a mask so big it nearly consumed him, which made the giant glaring eyes with spears=like irises even more threatening. Another wore a hood and was dressed in darkness, only a long nose sniffling from the abyss as the cold air hit her, and the last was covered in so many tattoos that it was impossible to really tell what the man was, although he was muscular and bald.
As more people came, some joined to play additional drums, thudding even more from their slumbers to the call of urgency. Tapada demanded the respect of rest, and for a moment you could swear as more were awoken that the ground shook a little in beat with the growing army of noise, be that a sign of anger or support one can never know. The sun was still drifting overhead, disappearing from its perhaps shortest visit yet to date in the tribes history "No more" The mask elder gestured with a wave of his hand and the drums stopped, his voice was hard and callous, like ice that either shanks you or melts to splashing freezing cold "The ceremony will begin"
A staff is picked up by the masked elder and he stomps it on the ground "I am in place of Monono!" He declared.
Then handed the staff to the hooded elder and squatted.
She banged it on the floor too, gentler than the last "I am in place Taruakak!" She stated, less energetic.
Once more the staff was passed to the tattoo elder and she sat cross legged.
"And I...am here for the people. Those that can not be here anymore and those here now"
He said it with a soft hardness, like chalk marking a stone wall. a soothing scratchiness reserved only for the tired chords of old age. He did not sit, in fact, he stood proud and spied everyone's faces around him in the light of the flame. His eyes inquisitive, judging as he did "We are in crisis..." He stated and slowly two men came in with a giant plate, easily big enough to platform an adult man, carrying mountain of mushy looking mushrooms within its grasp.
"We are in famine" He said and pointed to the food. It was enough mushrooms to feed a feast 3 times over, so naturally the towns people ushered confusion and looked at each other for explanation. An explanation that followed with men bringing out more plates, this time, however, the plate carried a mountain of fish bones, then another cores of apples and fruits, finally the last bowl came out with only bones and skin of deer and the panicked silence of people murmured into gossiping confusion "This is not Karako's wrath" He explained simply and, there seemed to be some minor exhale of relief at those words from the villagers.
"Last night our guards saw a large shape of three men run away into the darkness, munching and throwing away these" He waved his staff over the bones and pips and rubbish left in front of them all "It is only through fortune that they awoke to preserve the mushrooms, but that is all. We won't be able to fish enough from the local lake or hunt enough wild game to keep us all"
"We are in crisis" He stated it simply, coldly, as if he was reading off a dreadful diagnosis and his eyes peered with a questioning brow, awaiting for anyone to speak on the matter before he continued.
