The cheers grew louder, and the phrase “Challenge” traveled through the camp, from mouth to ear to mouth, joined by laughter, mirth and excitement at the coming spectacle, as unfortunately short as it probably would be.<br/><br/>As as it traveled it finally reached the ears of Fran-Gar, current shaman of the band. A challenge was his to administer, and as unlikely as it would be he had to check. So with a growl he lifted himself up and  trudged out of his hut, stretching to full height to see what this uproar was all about. As Sak-Bak had already surmised, he was no more than an ordinary and average warrior himself, but one with above average intelligence who had been the lucky recipient of what his fellow lizardfolk had considered a portent some three years ago, and he had had no objection to the perks his new office brought. Adorned with his elaborate headdress – a mask covering the upper part of his skull, with antlers, feathers, and carved pieces of painted wood sticking out of it, he approached the center of the clearing, his stride now far more dignified.<br/><br/>Finally he came to halt before Sak-Bak, and looking down at the smaller jailor, he hissed “What is this uproar all about, little one?”<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>