Reborn As A Beastman With A System

"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening to one and all!"

As Begon and the other tribal elders gathered, pondering Logan's next move, his imposing figure suddenly materialized at the heart of the sacred altar.

From this elevated position, he surveyed the crowd, his commanding presence resonating through the hushed assembly. In that moment, every eye was drawn to him, hanging on his every word.

"Many among you, the stalwarts of the Silver Mane Tribe, will recognize me. Yet, I see new faces too, those who have not had the pleasure. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Logan, your chieftain," he announced with a resonant voice that rolled over the crowd.

"It matters not who you were before this moment. From today onwards, you are part of the Silver Mane Tribe, by birth, through life, and into the afterlife. No one can alter this truth!" Logan proclaimed, his voice booming across the gathering, embodying the spirit of dominion.

As he spoke, the seasoned beastmen of the tribe received his words with a quiet dignity, while some couldn't help but smirk at the thought of eternal servitude, even in death, those words seemed to mock them they thought.

"These are trying times, a time marked by famine, where many tribes perish and countless souls flee from the clutches of starvation," Logan continued, his tone shifting to one of grave seriousness.

"Consider yourselves fortunate, for the Silver Mane Tribe has resources, ample food to sustain us through these dire times. Those who have joined us today should feel blessed, for in the Silver Mane Tribe, you find sanctuary and sustenance!" His words struck a chord, resonating deeply among the attendees.

Whispers of agreement fluttered through the crowd. The recent recruits, formerly of smaller, struggling clans, knew all too well the desperation of watching their meager food supplies dwindle. Indeed, joining the Silver Mane Tribe felt not just fortuitous but life-saving.

As murmurs of admiration and agreement echoed around, Tyton, one of the tribe's new leaders, couldn't contain his awe. "Remarkable!" he exclaimed quietly, impressed by Logan's ability to soothe and inspire his new followers, subtly highlighting the shortcomings of their former lives while showcasing the strengths of their new home.

A familiar adage holds that when one discards an old, worn object in favor of something new and improved, few mourn the loss of the outdated relic.

Such was the case with the four beastmen tribes.

Rumors had whispered through their ranks that a famine was looming over their tribe. Yet, as fate would have it, they found themselves assimilated into a tribe where food was plentiful and the looming threat of famine was just a distant shadow. It wasn't long before their old allegiances faded from memory.

Survival was their primal instinct; any lingering sadness for the ruin of their former home was fleeting. Their spirits were buoyed by the prospect of thriving in this new haven.

The tribe's elders, too, were perceptive of Logan's ambitions.

Begon gazed at the commanding presence of Logan, who stood with the regal bearing of a sovereign, his confidence echoing the authority of a monarch.

In that moment, a clarity settled over Lott. He felt an unexpected surge of optimism, perhaps the Silver Mane tribe was fortunate, after all, to have Logan as their chief.

Reynolds, with his typically furrowed brow, wore an expression of reluctant acceptance. Initially skeptical, he now found himself slowly embracing Logan's leadership, though he felt somewhat compelled by the circumstances.

As he watched Logan at the altar, a figure he once overlooked now radiated an undeniable charisma. Reynolds pondered deeply, questioning how he would conduct himself were he in Logan's place. How would he address the integration of the four beastmen? Would he dare to annex them outright?

These questions swirled in his mind, revealing his own uncertainties about handling such alliances.

Reynolds's tone softened, a rare smile playing on his lips. "This kid Logan has a knack for surprising you just when you think you've figured him out," he remarked to those nearby.

A murmur of confusion rippled through the gathered officials. Wasn't Reynolds known for his friction with Logan?

Begon, in particular, was taken aback. His usually stubborn brother had just openly commended Logan.

Reynolds paid no mind to the bewildered glances. Now was not the time for explanations.

As Logan's voice filled the air again, he declared with conviction, "But to sustain this happiness, I cannot do it alone. I need each of you, every member of our tribe, to pull together. We must unite our strengths to traverse these challenging times and emerge stronger on the other side of this famine."

"As your chief, I pledge that as long as I hold this title, I will stand beside you. Together, we will navigate through the famine, contribute to our tribe's development, and propel the Silver Mane Tribe to unprecedented heights."

"Silver Mane is destined to rise," Logan proclaimed with unwavering certainty.

"It is merely a matter of time. But for this, we need every one of you!" His voice filled the clearing as he spun around, surveying the faces of his tribesmen. Spreading his arms wide in a welcoming gesture, he called out to the silent assembly, "Are you ready to join me in elevating our tribe?"

"Can you say it louder? Tell me!" Logan roared, his voice echoing across the gathering.

"Yes, we are willing!" came a response, though initially timid.

Logan's gaze settled on his family, his mother, and his younger siblings, who had shouted their support.

"We too are prepared to follow the chief and ascend with the Silver Mane Tribe," another voice declared. Turning, Logan recognized his uncles Begon and Reynolds, alongside senior officials Crowe and Lotts.

"I am willing, Lord Chief!" A youthful voice pierced the air. Logan looked toward the source.

It was a young beastman, barely of age, who had fought his way through the crowd to declare his commitment.

"I am willing too!"

"And I how could I not wish for our tribe's ascent?" another added fervently.

"Me too, though I wasn't one yesterday, from today, I am of the Silver Mane. I am ready to follow our chief on this ascent."

Voices multiplied, each chant of "I am willing!" weaving into a tapestry of collective resolve. The space around the altar transformed, buzzing with the energy of a bustling market.

Yet to Logan, this cacophony sounded not like noise, but like the stirring future of their tribe.

He observed silently, letting the moment build before unleashing his voice once more with formidable strength: "Are you willing to strive for our tribe's rise?"

Instantly, the clamor subsided, and the sea of tribespeople turned their attention to him, shouting with zeal, "We are willing!"

At that moment, the phrase seemed to harness an immense power, scattering the clouds above and bathing the congregation in the moon's gentle glow.

Logan surveyed the energized crowd, a satisfied smile playing on his lips, the first phase of his strategy had unfolded flawlessly.

Lowering his voice, he signaled for quiet with a gentle wave of his hands.

"Everyone knows that conflict erupted within our ranks yesterday, a needless, regrettable conflict," he began, setting the stage for his next words.

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