Reborn As A Beastman With A System

Surrounded by a chorus of clamors and inquisitive glares, Parks, a fox-like merchant of cunning repute, found himself tongue-tied amid the turmoil. His usual shrewdness deserted him as he faced the uproar in the crowded market hall. Discover tales on m-vl-em,pyr

He had severely underestimated the tenacity of the Greymane family. More than that, he had not anticipated their voracious ambition; they were not just aiming to retaliate but to obliterate his network entirely.

In a matter of days, the intricate supply system that had been his pride for over a decade was shattered. They were thrown back to square one, to a time before their operations had even begun, back to the drawing board without any tools.

"Enough!" Parks finally exclaimed, his voice cutting through the maelstrom of voices. "This bickering wont solves anything! What's our next move?"

An orc merchant, his green skin flushed with frustration, turned to Parks with a mix of desperation and anger. "What can we possibly do? We're ants compared to the might of the Greymanes. We've been dealt a harsh blow; all we can do now is endure."

Their once-flourishing trade routes and partnerships had crumbled. The financial loss was bearable, but the true catastrophe was the loss of their strategic foothold, intangible yet devastating.

Then, with a sudden, eerie calm, Parks declared, "I'm going to apologize to Fisher and the Greymanes."

The room erupted in disbelief.

"Parks, have you lost your mind?" one of the beastmen merchants bellowed, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

The other merchants stared at Parks, flabbergasted. To think that after instigating such conflict, he would consider capitulation! It was an unfathomable strategy, inciting both shock and ire amongst his colleagues.

"What choice do we have?" Parks retorted, his tone icy. "If we don't seek a truce, do you think they'll ever leave us be? Unless you fancy spending your days hidden away in Canyon City, ostracized from any trade circuit?"

He continued, his voice laced with a steely resignation, "And even if by some miracle they disregard us, where do we stand? Our old camps are overrun. Invading new markets now would be akin to marching to our graves."

His words hung heavy in the air, leaving the six orcs to ponder their dire situation, weighing their limited options.

Meanwhile, the influence of the Silver Mane Tribe surged. Their territory, visible from the highlands surrounding their village, had expanded tenfold in just three months, a testament to their burgeoning power and strategic dominance.

In the distance, a herald from the tribe approached, his voice resonant as he announced, "Our Lord Begon invites you!" The implications of such a summons were profound, signaling new alliances or further conflicts on the horizon.

At the towering entrance of the Silver Mane Tribe, under the imposing wooden archway, an official of the tribe cast a scrutinizing glance at a young werewolf standing before him. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the murmur of distant voices.

"Please, lead the way," the wolf beastman, Mamuti, said, dismounting from his wolf, with a respectful nod to the official.

The Silver Mane official returned the gesture and started forward, setting a brisk pace. Mamuti, trailing behind, was struck by the transformation around him. This was not the primitive encampment he remembered, the Silver Mane Tribe had metamorphosed before his eyes.

The last time he was here, as a captive, the tribe was unremarkable, certainly no match for his own Duskin Tribe. But now, it sprawled expansively before him. New buildings rose in neat rows, laughter and conversation filled the air, and a vibrant mix of tribesfolk, including orcs of various clans like wild boars and tauren, milled about, vibrant and carefree.

Despite hearing of their rapid expansion, Mamuti had envisioned a tribe in turmoil, yet what he saw was the opposite: a community flourishing in stability and prosperity. How had the young chieftain accomplished this?

His own tribe, Duskin, was grappling with a tightening food supply, causing great concern among the leaders, including his father. In stark contrast, the Silver Mane Tribe now boasted a population of 10,000 and continued to take in disaster victims, a fact well known across neighboring tribes. Even a tribe of over a thousand werewolves near Duskin had pledged their allegiance to Silver Mane.

This expansion stirred a deep unease in Mamuti. The longstanding feud between Duskin and Silver Mane was not new, spanning over a decade. With Silver Mane's growing might, would they ever consider a truce with Duskin?

Determined to address these brewing storms, Mamuti had come to seek a dialogue with the Silver Mane's young chieftain, hoping to secure a favorable resolution for his people.

As he followed the tribe's official deeper into the heart of Silver Mane territory, his amazement grew with every step. It was clear that Silver Mane was not merely surviving; it was thriving, asserting itself as a dominant force in the region.

Finally, they reached their destination. Mamuti was ushered into a spacious, warmly lit hall where Chief Begon awaited him.

"Mamuti, we meet again!" Begon greeted, his eyes sharp with curiosity. "Please, have a seat."

Mamuti sat, his mind racing, not just with diplomatic speeches but also with the startling revelation that had preceded his arrival: contrary to his intentions, rumors had flown ahead of him, suggesting he was here to merge Duskin into the fold of Silver Mane. A strategic misunderstanding that could either be a blunder or an unexpected opportunity.

Begon was taken aback. Before him stood a young chieftain from the Duskin Tribe, not an outright enemy but certainly not an ally of the Silver Mane Tribe, proclaiming a desire to join forces. Skepticism clouded his judgment momentarily.

"Its an pleasure to meet you Lord Begon!" Mamuti bowed slightly, his tone imbued with a deep respect. He was well aware of Behon's influence, second only to the chief of the Silver Mane Tribe and a key figure in tribal decisions.

Their last encounter had been under less amicable circumstances, when Mamuti had been captured and defeated.

"Please, allow me to meet with Lord Chief Logan," Mamuti requested earnestly, hoping to speak with the chief, a man near his own age and of similar fiery ambition.

"No," Begon responded abruptly, shaking his head.

Mamuti was visibly puzzled. "Why? Am I not, as a chieftain, worthy?"

He paused, reflecting on the stark disparities in power and standing between their tribes, which might explain his perceived lack of qualifications.

"The chief is not currently within the tribe," Begon clarified without deceit, noting the importance of transparency with the young chieftain of Duskin.

If Mamuti was genuinely interested in aligning with Silver Mane, it could smooth the path for the eventual incorporation of his tribe, a significant strategic gain.

Mamuti's surprise was evident, but he sensed no falsehood in Begon's demeanor.

"Convey your intentions to me, and I shall relay them to the chief," Begon proposed, fixing his gaze on Mamuti.

Considering his limited options, Mamuti agreed. Although he couldn't speak directly to Chief Logan, Begon would serve as an adequate intermediary.

"The Silver Mane Tribe has grown immensely, expanding its reach six or sevenfold in just a few months," Mamuti began, his voice low and steady. "On a recent visit to Duskin, Chief Logan caused significant upheaval, even wounding my father. It seems clear that Silver Mane intends to annex Duskin."

Begon listened, his brow furrowing in confusion. News of such a confrontation, especially one involving the shooting of the Duskin chief, had not reached him. Chief Habak of Duskin was a formidable leader, his prowess undisputed among his peers. That Logan, a younger warrior, could have bested such a seasoned chieftain was startling news.

"Logan engaged Chief Habak directly?" Begon questioned, his tone incredulous. "And prevailed?"

These revelations shook Begon. Logan must have achieved a breakthrough to the sixth level of warrior skill, for nothing else could explain such a feat.

The implications of this encounter were profound, not only for the dynamics between their tribes but for the balance of power within the region. Mamuti's news, whether fully accurate or not, was a critical piece of intelligence that Begon knew he had to investigate further.