Creating Civilization In My Private Island

The early morning mist still lingering in the air. As they enter, Tygari and Lorka are already seated around the circular table, each with a focused expression.

"Oh, you're here again," Tygari says, a faint smile crossing his face. In the past, he'd dismissed Rylis as a lesser warrior, but after the recent battle, he saw him in a different light. Tygari, a straightforward man, respects courage above all else, and he now regards Rylis with newfound respect.

Rylis offers a respectful nod, slightly surprised by Tygari's acknowledgment. "Chief Tygari. Chief Lorka," he greets them with a steady voice, casting a quick glance at Amara before continuing.

Lorka, who has remained silent so far, leans forward, his keen eyes studying Rylis with interest. "Amara tells us you've found something. Tell us everything," he says, his voice calm but commanding.

Rylis takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "As ordered, I've been scouting the northern forest. And yesterday, my team and I found creatures like the one we killed before—smaller, but unmistakable." He pauses, a flicker of unease in his eyes. "They move in groups, always together, tens of them at a time. It's almost as if they're coordinating. And from the way they reacted, they're… aware of each other."

Lorka and Tygari exchange a glance, their expressions growing more serious. Amara steps forward, resting a hand on the table, her voice firm. "If these creatures are in packs, they pose a much greater threat than we realized. We are still not sure if the armor can protect us from them."

Tygari's fingers tap the hilt of his blade. "So, we've got packs of these things. Are they aggressive? Did they notice your team?"

Rylis nods. "They didn't spot us directly, but we could see how they moved—on guard, aware of their surroundings. They're cautious, like they know they're being watched. And… we heard a strange call. Almost like a warning signal. It passed through the group quickly, and they shifted positions."

Lorka raises an eyebrow. "They're organized, then," he says quietly, a frown settling on his face.

The chiefs absorb Rylis's report in thoughtful silence. Amara leans forward, her fingers tracing the grain of the wooden table as she speaks with quiet conviction.

"We'll proceed cautiously," she says, her voice measured. "Only hunt the smaller ones—and only when they're isolated. If our hunters come across something like the creature we fought together… they're to retreat immediately. It took the combined strength of all three of us, plus our strongest hunters, to bring down one of those. We won't risk lives unnecessarily."

Tygari nods, his usually fierce expression softened by the weight of her words. "Agreed. I'll have my hunters understand it's survival first, and bravery second with these creatures. Our villages can't afford reckless losses."

Lorka, who's been listening intently, suddenly straightens, his eyes lighting up with an idea. "Before we conclude, there's one more thing," he says, looking at each chief in turn. "I think it's time we give this creature a name. Something to warn our people of the threat it poses—and to remind us of what we're up against."

Tygari grunts, a slight grin breaking through. "How about 'Steelbacks'? Their exoskeletons are harder than anything we've seen. Fitting for creatures built like armor."

Lorka tilts his head, considering. "It's close, but we need something that carries a bit more of their… unpredictability. How they move in packs, how they're cunning." He looks to Rylis. "You've seen them up close, observed their patterns. What would you call them?"

Rylis shifts under their collective gaze, gathering his thoughts. He remembers the way the creatures moved in eerie synchronization, their smaller bodies winding together like waves in the underbrush, alert yet silent. His mind races, grasping for a name that captures both their resilience and their strange unity.

"How about… 'Grimcrawlers'?" Rylis suggests, his voice thoughtful. "They move low to the ground, almost creeping, and when they gather in numbers, they seem… relentless."

The chiefs exchange glances, weighing the name.

Tygari nods slowly. "Grimcrawlers. There's a coldness to it—matches how they feel. And it'll remind the hunters to be cautious when they hear it."

Amara's eyes narrow in contemplation, then a small, approving smile appears. "Yes. Grimcrawlers," she repeats, the name rolling off her tongue with a solemn weight. "It fits. The sound of it is enough to put our hunters on guard. And if the name spreads, it will carry a warning in the future."

Lorka leans back, satisfied. "Then it's settled. Grimcrawlers they are." He glances around the table, his face solemn. "We've taken the first steps. But we all know these creatures could bring a darkness our people aren't prepared for."

Amara's expression softens, though her resolve remains fierce. "Then we'll prepare them, together. If Grimcrawlers are our enemy, we'll face them as one."

With that, the meeting concludes. They stand, each feeling the weight of this new challenge but strengthened by their unity.

Days pass, and each of the three villages sets out to test their strength against the Grimcrawlers, hoping to hunt the smaller ones. The hunters of each village venture out cautiously, armed with freshly forged weapons and donning in new armor. But every attempt ends in frustration. Grimcrawlers never travel alone; wherever there's one, there are four more close behind, each vigilant and quick to respond.

In the forest, early one morning, a small hunting party from Tygari's village watches from the shadows as a group of Grimcrawlers forage near a fallen log. Var seasoned hunter, crouches low, barely breathing as he counts the creatures.

"There's five of them, all close together," he whispers to his companion, a younger hunter named Mir. "We need just one, but there's no way to separate it. They're too aware."

Mir tightens his grip on his spear. "Can't we just rush them? Take them all at once?"

Var shakes his head, his voice low and tense. "You remember what happened last time. They'll swarm and signal the others. Even if we kill one, we won't make it out. Grimcrawlers are no ordinary prey."

Mir looks back toward the distant village, frustration etched on his face. "We're wasting days out here, Kovar. They're too smart."