Junebug’s smile could have cut glass. Careful to keep her teeth from grinding she rose to her feet.

“I would be honored,” she said evenly. By the look of worry in the Shaman’s eye she hadn’t been completely successful but that was alright. The cheering of the crowd rose as she followed Neil down the rough hewn stone steps towards the game field. She dearly hoped that the natives weren’t going to kill Niel, she wanted to do that herself. What had the man been thinking. On an instinct she looked over her shoulder and caught a glance of the Shaman’s pretty assistant beaming down at Neil’s back. 

“Bleeding bloody stars,” she cursed although it was too quiet to carry over the crowd. Was their a man in the universe who wasn’t lead around by his prick? Not that the bloody fool of a girl was doing any better. They reached the ground before the zigurat and a score of large natives trotted out onto the field, each carrying a length of wood about five feet in length and half the thickness of a mans wrist, as well as a flat wooden shield that had been lacquered to a shinewith some sort of native resin. Above them Wetumpkah stood and bellowed loudly enough to be heard over the crowd. Two of the players peeled off and trotted towards Sayeeda and the pilot, offering them the shield and stick. Wordlessly Junebug took the gear and, dicovering the shield had a pair of leather straps on the back, slipped her hand through to clasp it to her forearm. Both items were light but solid.

“If you have any insight on how Radafiri is played, now is the time,” she commented acidly. Neil turned to look at her.

“I..uhhh..” he began.

“That is more or less what I thought,” she sighed. The group was splitting up into two distinct teams. A pair of hoops each painted the dirty orange of  rock pigment was placed at each end of the sixty meter strip of cobblestones and the men, they were all men, took up positions along either end. Junebug went with her ‘team’ and stood in the loose line. As the did so a small child, no more than six trotted onto the field with a leather ball beneath its arms. Nervously they tossed it to the floor and scampered away. As one all the players tilted back their heads and yelled an odd undulating war cry. As if by some signal they cut of and lurched towards the ball at full speed, shields and sticks raised. 

[@POOHEAD189]