Not wanting to interrupt, Market decided not to move and just kept watching.
It was the third night of Market and Kel’Megdel’s decision to travel together. They had spent the last two and a half, uneventful days together, but since Megdel doesn’t do much talking, there were only a few things that Market had learned about him. Through close observation, he had learned a couple of things. Megdel does little things that don’t seem to have any purpose. He has the same routine when putting on his armor. When securing a strap, he taps it three times before he moves on to the next. On the rare occasion that he does talk, he always scratches the back of his neck. When he does anything at all, it is done with all of his concentration. When eating, sometimes he gets frustrated with the meat. Snarling at it and sometimes cursing it. Market couldn’t figure why and of course he goes right back to eating it. While on his eating habits, Market has never seen anyone or anything eat as much as Megdel does. It seems as if he is always chewing on something. Something made of meat. Not once has Market seen him eat any plant material. He even eats the bones. After cracking them to get at the marrow, Megdel chars them until they’re black in the fire and then gnaws them down. According to Market, all of these quirks and actions were insignificant; they didn’t seem to mean much. There hadn’t been any actions of importance, until now.
This was different. Market had just awoken. It was the middle of the night. It was cold out, so the two of them had decided to keep a small fire going. The light from the fire illuminated Megdel’s massive frame. They were on opposite sides of the fire. It was Megdel’s watch, but instead of keeping watch he was looking down. He was looking at a large piece of leather that was on the ground in front of him. It was about three feet square. Megdel was sitting on his butt with his knees up high. Hunching over, his beady eyes examined the leather closely before his attention went to a small bag he was holding. Upon reaching in and placing some small wooden pieces on the leather, Market knew that it was a game. Not only did he know it was a game, but he knew which game it was. It was Maruka, and ancient and rare Suloise strategy game. Market was interested and a bit confused. Apparently Megdel had played before. The game has varying degrees of complexity and is known to translate well to the battlefield. It was also a great teaching tool because of its ability to mimic historical and fictional battles. It was strange to be in the hands of a bugbear.
Megdel’s hands moved quickly, although his massive fingers had a hard time placing the small pieces. After he had situated them, he stopped all of a sudden. Scratching his head he started to move the pieces around, using his fingernail to move individual pieces. It looked like one side was heavily outnumbered. Slowly moving and taking pieces away, Market could almost see the slow turning gears of Megdel’s mind. Scratching his head and pausing was frequent, but his concentration didn’t falter. Lying on his side, Market propped his head up on his hand without fear of interrupting. The smaller side seemed to be inflicting heavy damage. They had superior tactics and were thinning out their opponent. Reaching off to the side of the mat, Megdel brought in even more pieces for the larger group. The battle went on for sometime, even taking into account Megdel’s pauses. Then during one of the smaller groups pushes Megdel stopped.
Another pause, thought Market, but Megdel’s nose started to flair. His breathing changed, short and heavy, he was exhaling hard. Grabbing some pieces from the board, he jumped to his feet. Squeezing them tightly he threw them down on the mat as his ire began to seethe. The moment they hit the mat, he looked down at his feet for something to grab, quickly snatching up his heavy mace. His movements had become crazed, and his anger started to surface. Gripping the handle with both hands Megdel squeezed down on it hard and his entire body tightened up. His eyes focused intently on his death grip, his jaw clenched tightly, and his teeth barred, his hands and arms started to shake from his tightened grip. Squeezing as hard as he could, the veins in his face and neck became engorged. A growl rose from within him as he approached an inevitable explosion. Letting out a hair-raising and terrifying roar, Megdel blew. With both hands on his mace, it was swung above his head and slammed into the dirt in front of him with frightening force. Without pause it was repeated feverously, the dirt and grass flew in all directions. Over and over, the earth shook with his power.
In the midst of all of this, for just a tiny fraction of a second, Megdel and Market’s eyes crossed.
Within an instant Megdel froze, staring at the destruction he had unleashed on the ground. Dropping his mace and falling to his knees, Megdel hurriedly collected the Maruka pieces. Fighting his heaving chest and body’s desperate need for oxygen, he shoved the game into his backpack before stopping to catch his breath on all fours. Struggling to stand, Megdel turned his back. His head hung low. The weight of the world seemed to be on his shoulders.
“Sorry” was all he mumbled before he stumbled away with his head in hands. Only reaching twenty feet before his body crumpled back down to his knees.
