The Ritual reached it`s climax.
For hours now the Wargaz had danced around their primitive totem shrine; A wolf skull mounted on a stone altar. The skinchangers, those that already were able to change their form at will, calmly watched as the whelps, those who never experienced the transformation before, ritualistically spattered themselves with the blood of a slain wolf.
Greypelt, their old but still vigorous chieftain, oversaw the ceremonial rites. It was their most important ritual, the initiation ritual for young wargaz.. And it was his task to make sure that they were properly initiated.
The society of the wargaz shunned those that never "wore a wolf pelt" as they called it. Whelps were on the lowest rank in society and were treated as such. They weren`t allowed to talk in the presence of proper wargaz, for example.
This yearly ritual offered them a chance to escape their plight- So it had to be perfect. And rituals led by Greypelt usually were.
One dancing whelp howled out as his body began to change- And the tribe howled with him. Slowly he transformed into a wolf, and Greypelt was a bit jealous. After the transformation the warg would run into the forest, to test his new senses. The first time was always overwhelming, and Greypelt could still remember how new and how strange and how good everything had felt after his first transformation.
Meanwhile three whelps were still dancing and Greypelt pitied them- The ritual was almost over, and they showed no signs of a upcoming transformation. They would have to live on in shame for another year.
The newborn warg run off into the woods and Greypelt decided to end the ritual- The sun was going down and the hunters would want to hunt soon. He barked some commands at a nearby warg but stopped when he heard something strange.
He heard a great clamor, and shouts, and cries- And it seemed to come from all directions at once. It grew louder and louder- Until it filled the whole world and drowned out everything else.
And suddenly a strange figure was standing next to the sacred skull, and the noise died down. But greypelt could still hear it, at the edge of his mind, like a constant whisper.. Or reminder. But that didn`t really concern him; What concerned him was that strange figure. It looked a bit like a wargaz, but it`s features were a bit more delicate, his brown hair curly and his eyes of an uncommon color. His garments were outlandish, too, for he wore no pelts but ornaments made from something golden that glittered in the evening sun. A stunning sight.
Every wargaz was staring at it, in silence and awe. Everyone of them, the three whelps excluded, knew the figure- For they saw it whenever they transformed into a wolf. They called it the bloody chieftain, for a lack of better words.
"A wolf skull? That`s your only totem? I had hoped for something more elaborate. " The figure barked in the rough tongue of the wargaz.
"I don`t understand." Greypelt said flatly and perplexed. The whole situation was weird, and he didn`t know how to deal with it.
"Nevermind. We will talk about that later. We have more important matters to attend to."
"But.. I.." Greypelt stammered. Then he took a deep breath, cleared his throat and went on:" Who are you? What are you? Why do you appear in our dreams? Explain!" He demanded, with the voice of a proper chieftain. Then he barked at the skinchangers and ordered them to surround the figure.
"Found your wits again, eh?" The figure asked, laughing. "Very well, i have to say i`m fond of you. You know me. You worship me as the bloody chieftain, your guide and ancestor. Yet, i`m far more. A god i am. Your god i am. I made and shaped you."
Greypelt didn`t know what to say- After all those years suddenly the bloody chieftain should appear? And he should be a god? They had worshipped him, yes, but not as a god but as their ancestor, their guiding spirit. Long ago the elders came to the conclusion that while spirits are real gods are nonsense- after all, they never saw one and they never spoke to them. But the bloody chieftain had to be real, after all they saw him during every transformation.
"Bloody chieftain, you presume too much!" Greypelt shouted. "You are our ancestor, but you are no god."
The bloody chieftain only chuckled. And Greypelt suddenly saw some strange figures walking towards them, and he shuddered as the wind shifted and he smelled the smell of rotten flesh.
One by one the abominations came near, and the wargaz backed off in fear. The abominations were bigger than them, and all were a grotesque conglomerate off flesh, stone, bone and wood and the stench was overwhelming. They were coming directly towards him now, and he could see their horrible, dead, faces.. If they had any. One of them wore the skull of a bear as head, crawling with maggots.
"Convinced?" The figure asked, smiling.
Greypelt nodded. "We are- But send those.. Things away!" He was, and it shamed him to admit it, scared for the first time in his life. Those creatures were nothing natural, they shouldn`t exist, they shouldn`t walk, yet they did.
"As you wish. Your tribe, your rules." The chieftain said, humble." Go away, back to the caves, and on the way repair your bodies." And the abominations turned around and walked back into the forest, out of their sight.
Greypelt sighed in relief. "Yes, we are. Only a god could create something as.. as wrong like that. But what do you want of us? We will do what you want."
"It isn`t just about what i want. What do you want? Food, a place to hide, an exciting hunt? I can give you all that."
"And what do you want in return?" Greypelt asked, wary.
"In return i want your worship. That is all i want."
"And how shall we worship you?"
"That is actually pretty easy. And by worshipping me you get the things i promised you, isn`t that nice? There are other creatures out there, similar to you. They can`t transform into wolves, but underestimate them not. Make contact with them. Learn from then what you can learn. And hunt them, when you feel ready. Spill their blood, but don`t consume their corpses. Bring them to the mountains and see how they rise again in my service. And call me Rahisael from now on. Rahisael the Lord of War."
"We will, Rahisael, we will." Greypelt promised.
"Good. You`ll see that war is a very special kind of hunt.. A good kind of hunt. Serve me well, and you`ll be rewarded. But i have one last favor to ask."
"Anything you wish."
"I need one of you. For.. For something. You`ll never see him again, i`m afraid."
Greypelt hesitated. That was much to ask for. The pack was sacred.
"Don`t worry- That`s the only sacrifice i`ll demand from you. I need it to seal the pact; I need it to see that you are no weaklings." "I despise weaklings." He added.
And greypelt made a decision. "Very well, take one of the whelps. They are weak and through that sacrifice we shall show that we aren`t."
Rahisael nodded, grasped one of the whelps, and vanished.
---
Rahisael orders the wargaz to worship him and to make contact with the other races. If they feel ready they shall hunt them. He also takes one wargaz whelp with him.