The Last Tribe

The snow storm was only getting stronger since it arrived at the camp. The mammoth tusk tent's and huts were little protection to the inhabitants within, each one of them felt the chilling wind that roared against the pelt lined walls. A few tears in the pelts made things much worse as the snow was starting to make its way in. Even this weather wasn't the worst of what was coming.

The ice age brought forth many creatures, such as mammoths, smilodon, and Irish Elk. Those didn't compare to this, a creature so freakish, it would give the other tribes nightmares, if there were any left. Only one tribe remained, forced to fight for their lives against these mutilated corpses of men, that were sweeping across the frozen landscape in hordes. Their numbers were great, for they wiped out everything in their path and took control if them or ate them at the same time. Only this tribe was left, only one chance to survive, and that was now.

"Chieftain, the horde near, they hungry and there many coming," Stated a nervous caveman. Even though he was one of the bravest in the tribe, he had a look of fear in his eyes.

"Must get ready. Wives, children, must use weapons too, need many to fight them. Send alarm, awake tribe, we have battle here soon," responded the Chieftain, who scratched his bushy beard, trying to get a chunk of bison meat out of it.

"Should get Dire wolves ready?"

"Get Dire Wolves ready, sabre tooths, mammoths, all can muster. Half-teeth my warrior, we need all beast.

The tribe was woken quickly, and were standing around the Chieftains hut, ready to battle. The three mammoths were each mounted by a quintet of spear-throwers, and the Smilodons each had a warrior riding upon them. The Dire wolves walked around in a group, eager to go to battle. And the rest of the tribe, they were as ready as they ever could be. Now was the Chieftains turn to get his people eager to protect their home.

"I tried reach other tribes, no answer. The great spirit tells us that we alone, we are last men and women, children and elder. So I say, let fight this things, and prove, man no be put out like water on fire. We have big battle, show it more like fire and ice. We might melt, but we will hold ground till then. Now us stand against monster, no fear, no fright, no worries or cowardice. Just bravery, bravest we been in history of us all. Now who want fight for us, for man, for world! Who fight?!?!" Declared the Chieftain.

There was a moment of silence, but that was instantly followed by the cheers and chants of the fellow tribe-kin. They knew what was coming, but this was not a time to run away. Cause where could they go? It was just them, them and the monsters.

The tribe was silenced when someone near the gate called out.

"We see, they here now, come on." Yelled the caveman.


The horde was many in number, stretching across the vast wasteland of ice, ready to tear apart the last men. Even still, they were dim-witted, and that gave an advantage to the tribe, since they were less so. The tribe-members stood outside the gates, protecting the young children and elders that held out within. The Chieftain held ground at one gate, and his two brothers guarded the other entrances. The snow made vision blurry, but what could they do about it? The mammoths, smilodon, wolves and men were ready to attack. All they needed was the horn to blow.

"Chief, monsters closing in, when we call attack?" Asked Half-teeth.

"On my word," Answered the chief.

The abominations charged, hissing and growling at their enemy. They flung their arms around and spat their greenish saliva as they made haste. The Chieftain watched as the enemy closed the last 500 meters with speed. He turned to Half-teeth and nodded.


Half-teeth nodded to one of the horn blowers, and they knew the drill. The sound of air blowing through mammoth tusk roared into the storm. The other battalions responded with their own calls, and the attack began.

The tribe-kin let the Dire wolves loose, and followed along with their mammoth, and Sabre Tooth's. The rest of the tribe followed, wielding clubs, spears, and stone carved daggers.

The wolves were the first to reach the target, and starting tearing apart the horde. The Smilodons joined in, stabbing their teeth through disgusting flesh, and allowing their mounts to use their lances to deadly effect. Of that wasn't enough, the mammoth swung it's mighty head, and it's tusks swiped scores of monsters into the air. The rest of the tribe arrived and pitched in, whacking and stabbing the abominations, and fighting for their lives. The battle seemed to be in their favor until the monsters began climbing onto the mammoth. They began biting it's legs and clawing at its sides, until it subdued to the pain and toppled over. At least 12 men were crushed by the weight, and the tables turned. The men started letting fear seep in. They cowered against the enemy and ended up getting torn apart because of this. The wolves had mostly been wiped out and there were only two Smilodons left, both missing their mount. The Chieftain looked around, confused by the losses.

"Chief, bad bad much bad news, your brothers dead, town attacked, elder and young, torn apart and dead. Just us not dead." Stated Half-teeth, who was covered in blood and scars.

"All us, hold ground, fight to end." Chanted the chief.

The wolves heard this, and gave their all. The two Smilodon joined the rally, and started running down rows of the monsters. The rest of the tribe rallied behind them, and swung their clubs and threw their spears, each attack land in a fatal blow. But this hope was quickly gone, both smilodon were subdued, and all but one wolf remained. The tribe numbered only ten now, and they were trapped.

"What more we do?" Begged Half-teeth.

"We must die, honor and glory, to end we go." Responded the Chieftain.

The last men formed in a circle, and began swinging at any monster who approached. The clouds started fading above, and the early sunrise was visible. The Chieftain smiled and looked up, then to his people.

"We are gifted glory of world's beauty in dying hour. Let us honor this final moment with hearty fight," Stated the Chieftain.

He then looked over to Half-teeth and added, "You take wolf, and go back into camp. Write on stone with paint, what happen here.

Half-teeth nodded, grabbed the wolf by the scruff, and rode it back into the village. The last he heard of his kin was their cries of glory in death, and the Chieftain laughing in joy of their happy final moment. Half-teeth swung his club at a few monsters who tried to trap him, and knocked them aside. He enter the Chieftains hut with the wolf, and dismounted it. The wolf stood guard as Half-teeth looked around for a large, flat rock and paint. He found what he was looking for and started painting, he drew their tribe, and the animals they tamed. He drew the hordes with brown and green paint, and depicted the glorious battle. As he finished, he heard a howling, and saw the wolf fighting off the enemy. He grabbed his club and joined the havoc. He swung his club at the heads, and the wolf clamped down on bodies. The wolf was torn apart and it was only Half-teeth left.

Half-teeth swung his club one last time, and that final swing was all that was needed to make Half-teeth happy. Since with a beautiful day, caved in skulls, and a primal fight, what more could make a caveman happy. And who knows, maybe he can be united with his tribe in the land of the great spirit. At least there's no monsters there to defend their village from.

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