((Tantrums everywhere!))
Kerendra knew Minaryth. He had been one of the voices raised against her during the moot-along with Aransanda, both of whom were considered some of the clans strongest warriors, both full blooded in their youth. But, in the end, the warriors had chosen her, the proper chieftain of a peace clan.
He had always been hot headed, gifted with a relentless nature, and an impeccable aim with a throwing spear-despite his temper, he was great motivator of men and women-fast on track to becoming a warleader himself. It was thought by the clan members, that when Mousta finally died (Being very old and very stubborn), he would make a claim for her seat before the body hit the floor.
His father had been a great warrior as well-and had been so feared and hated by the Boskovi they had stopped trying to kill him with weapons-instead, one of their more clever members had tracked him as he walked about the Tula on patrol, and shifted a massive rock-slide onto him as he stopped to rest for lunch. The feud with the Boskovi had only gotten worse since then...and, Minayrth had always been in the thick of it, as soon as he could swing his axe...collecting kills to honor his fathers angry spirit-which sometimes still literally charged out from the afterlife and attacked the hated Boskovi with his glowing spectral sword, should they venture near the tula.
Kerenedra thought this was a decent test of her leadership abilities....Mousta was Warleader, and all the Thanes respected her words. She could handle the impudent pup in a proper manner. The Ancestors were on her side.
She gave the old warrior woman a subtle glance, and she spoke up on cue.
...
Mousta was the oldest of the ring, alongside Hourlaw-and, almost the oldest living member of the clan. She had, for the longest time, enjoyed being an adventurer-honoring Pixus by traveling the wilds of the Dragon Pass, seeking treasure and glory. Her stories never failed to entertain-tales of amazing battles, hot blooded romance, and terrible beasts laid low. She had been strong and cunning, and even in her old age one could see she had once been as beautiful as a summer day, the desire of any man she would have wished-no less so now, except perhaps to those more venerable. She no longer traveled the world, but was content to rest for the remainder of her years with her husband Jon, who had traveled alongside her for the sum of their lives-giving her skills to the clan as long as she was able.
It's suspected she was not as fast as she once was, but she was still said to be able to crush a stone into dust with her bare hands. She in fact, usually fought with no weapon but a pair of thick ironshod gloves-she was still a powerful wrestler-preferring to crush, strangle and bludgeon her enemies into the afterlife. In battle, those who saw her were said to drop their own weapons and run, for she enjoyed tearing even the most well made spear or axe out of a hapless warriors grip with one hand, and crushing his skull with the other. So the legends went.
But, her killing hands were only a part of the legend. She embodied the greatest ideal of the clans warriors-that, strength should be used to earn peace...that one should fight for a reason, not merely to soak the ground in blood. Many agreed, had Mousta desired it, she could have used her skills to lead the clan. But, she has never desired more than a strong drink, and a fire to warm her feet at the end of the day.
She cracks her knuckles now-a echoing dry boom that never fails to get attention-and favors the young man with her killing smile. Though, she's only going to kill his desire for bloodlust, hopefully. Mousta knows the young man would thank the Gods if she fell over dead in the dining hall at the moment. He wants to lead, and will never be truly happy until he does...a part of her understands this, but, she also knows one must temper a blade with cool water to produce the sharpest edge.
Action: Have Mousta explain why our Clan is a peaceful one, and how a warriors honor comes not only from killing mighty foes, but preserving that which they fight to protect...home, hearth and family.