Sak-Bak had forgotten that little detail... not that he expected it to ruin his plans. She just had to continue. He himself had settled back a bit, watching the proceedings but not particularly getting involved. His work was done; their success was in her hands now.<br/><br/>The elected warrior strode forward with the loincloth in hand, holding it toward her meaningfully. "Is for trial. You wear." His hand emphasised the point by pushing it more firmly toward her.<br/><br/>The circle was complete, and in a loud voice the shaman cried, toward the sky. "Great gods, we hold a battle in your name! Watch over the warriors and allow only the worthy to survive! Grant the loser only death!" There was a cheer; this tribe liked deaths.<br/><br/>Opposite her - outside the ring but on the far side of it - the great, massive warrior stood tall. He held a heavy, spiked club and sore - as Janica was starting to realise was the only thing he could wear; a long loincloth that covered his prick and not a lot else.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>