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[b][color=00CED1]Day ???, Week ???, Cycle ??? 
Springtime, Deep Harbour[/color][/b][/center]

"Let the challenger stand forth!" The acclamation was greeted by the thunder of a hundred log drums as Merdhrai wielded wooden clubs with a steady and rhythmic beat. Seashell horns made from the corpses of massive sea snails droned out a haunting [i]huuuuuun[/i] that echoed over the barbaric scene unfolding in the small clearing.

Deep amid towering trees and surrounded on all sides by a mighty river delta, the Challengers Circle waited the coming battle. A space some forty space lengths wide had been cleared in the deepest part of the delta. In its centre a deep hole had been dug and four trenches dug to channel water into it. A circle of black stone had been set four spear lengths from either side of the hole, leaving the rest of the space to be filled by the hundreds of Merdhrai who swayed and chanted with the beat of the drummers. To the humans who hunted the delta, the strange and menacing music was warning enough not to stray far into the watery expanse. 

No torches existed here, not in this place of the Merdhrai, only the bright moon above served to light the space and the still waters of the centre pool appeared inky black beneath a surface turned to burnished silver. This was a battle of the strongest and most cunning of their kind, a struggle to be named Skipper of the Merdhrai, the highest position among their kind.

"Riverjack!" The roar came from hundreds of throats as a tall brawny male, nearly four and half feet tall, stepped from the crowd and into the black stones. His brown fur rippled as he flexed impressive muscles and expertly spun a long wooden spear shaft between his paws. The current Skipper of the Merdhrai was an impressive figure though greying fur around his muzzle showed he past his prime. 

"Streambattle!" This cry heralded the arrival of a smaller female who bounded into the circle on all fours, her long tail slapping the ground with excitement. Fur nearly as black as night was pierced by a pair of savage looking eyes and white teeth flashed in the darkness.

There was no further need of an announcer, all present knew what must come next. The two would fight and the first to be killed, knocked unconscious, or thrown from the black stones, would be the loser. 

Riverjack eyed his opponent carefully through half lidded eyes even as she circled toward him. The attack, when it came, was blindingly fast as she rushed him down low. Despite their ability to walk on two legs, the Merdhrai were most dangerous when they resorted to their most primal fighting methods. Dangerous, unless their opponent was more experienced.

The heavy stick flashed in the moonlight, its bone white colour easy to track, and the crowd roared their appreciation as it slammed into Streambattles shoulder to send the smaller Merdhrai sliding across the ground toward the silvery pool.

In an instant the bigger fighter dropped his stick and lunged, using his weight to tackle his smaller opponent into the pool. Water exploded into the air like a thousand small moonstones as the two shapes blew the clam surface apart.

Down into the blackness they went as Streambattle fought to regain her breath from the blow. Riverjack, wise in the ways of war, clamped his teeth over the back of her neck and bit down hard enough to pierce the thick fur. Streambattle opened her mouth to cry out and inhaled water at once. 

The Merdhrai were meant for the water, they gloried in it, but even they couldn't live by breathing in water. In an instant the fight was forgotten as Streambattle struggled frantically to try and escape toward the surface and the moon directly above, a silver orb that seemed to grow smaller as Riverjack drove her deeper. 

When she regained consciousness she was lying on the edge of the Challengers Circle, just beyond the black stones. The night was quiet, the crowds gone, the drums silent. Only her mother, Riverjacks first wife, remained crouched on her hind legs, watching her daughter intently for a moment before speaking.

"Well, did you prove your point?"

Streambattle rubbed the back of her neck, the terror of her near drowning fresh with the pain that still throbbed there. She nodded slowly.

"Aye, he's a tough old bastard."

"Next time, Streambattle, he will kill you."

She did not doubt that at all.