Sir Hugh

"To Wear the Throne"

Kengetar left the two boys with the others of his tribe. He was glad that he wouldn't have to take care of them himself. However, two of the stragglers who came along was Elbara, and... her husband, Tomor. He hoped this wasn't going to make anything difficult. He was also annoyed by the sudden stop the caravan had made. There was still many hours of daylight left, but this small roadblock was able to stop them completely.

Kengetar slipped off his wrist bindings, gave a notice to Tomor, the elder male, and walked off, determined to find some drier ground. He knew that this was potentially the territory of enemies, but Kengetar was well trained in stealth. Keeping himself low to the ground and stepping lightly, he was sure that he would be able to notice someone else well before they noticed him.

"To Wear the Throne"

That Night:

As Kengetar was drifting away to sleep, an arm grabbed his bicep and a voice hissed into his ear, "What is this? This isn't part of the plan. She has our women and children!" the chief whispered angrily. Kengetar moaned.

"She's changing the game. But if she's put herself in a tent with all our children, she'll be dead by sunrise." It was only half a joke. "And besides, there's nothing we can do. Playing along for now is the only thing keeping us alive. We'll see what tomorrow brings and plan again."

"For all our sakes, you'd better be right," the chief said, and slipped away. Kengetar drifted to sleep, but his dreams were haunted by a three-tailed snake with a woman's face.

Morning:

Kengetar was surprised to see Melody looking so well rested after a night with the children. He was even more surprised to hear that the whole tribe would not be travelling with her, it would only be him and a few other volunteers. He returned to the tribal tent and explained the situation and asked for volunteers. The chieftain gave Kengetar a nonplussed look, and Kengetar shrugged. In the end, only two males, younger than Kengetar, were willing to join, hoping that this would be the adventure that gained them their first tattoos.

Kengetar and the two boys prepared quickly. Each of them was given a pair of shoes, a leather vest, and some food that had been spared from last night. Within an hour, they were ready. Kengetar and the two boys joined the caravan as it headed out.

"To Wear the Throne"

Kengetar nodded. His face was no longer in a perpetual scowl, and something of an imperceptible smile crept onto his lips. He began relaying her words to the chief. He assented that those with children would be kept in the single tent, and said he would allow healers into this one. Kengetar took a few people who were uninjured with him to the forest outskirts of the town. They all gave out the coded cry for safety, hoping that any survivors who had fled into the woods would hear it and return. They could do no more.

Kengetar returned to the large tent. The healers had arrived, so he allowed one of them to clean the wound at the back of his head, and apply a salve to it. Finally feeling exhaustion from his wound and the day's events, he laid out on his side in the tent to rest. He wondered idly where that woman was going to be now, since she had donated her tent.

"To Wear the Throne"

Kengetar nodded and exited through the flap. Outside, there were still dying flutters of activity as camp preparations ceased. The village had been completely transformed. About the burned out husks of wooden dwellings, tents had sprung up like fungus around carcasses. Eventually Kengetar found the large tent where his people had been herded into. He recognized it for being the one with guards posted at each corner. It was high, long, and brown. Inside, his people were huddled together in darkness. As he entered, people looked up at him with gaping mouths, amazed to see him enter cleaned and dressed in finery.

As Kengetar stepped his way through the crowd, looking for the chief, he saw that people were already organized in a circle in the center, having a hushed conversation in the Sedent dialect. Good, Kengetar thought. A Council's already started. This makes it simpler. He stepped into the circle and sat down as astonished onlookers cleared him a space. The chief, dignified in his many tattoos and immaculate topknot, carefully regarded Kengetar before speaking.

"Kengetar," he said slowly. "We thought you had been killed. And when we were all unshackled and brought into this tent, well, we feared the worst. But you seem to have been at some venture. Tell us your tale, for everything learned may help us reach a decision."

"I was not dead, merely wounded during the assault," said Kengetar, trying to control his emotions. Displaying emotion at a Council meeting was a faux pas. "When I awoke, I was put to labor on certain meaningless tasks until I could barely stand. After this was done, I learned that I had been selected by their leader, a woman, no older than me, and brought to her tent." As Kengetar spoke, a woman who had managed to smuggle a comb was straightening out his tangled hair. He took a breath before speaking again.

"She told me that she needed me for her plot of revenge in some familial feud. I did not understand the specifics of it all. She promised me wealth and the freedom of the Sedent tribe in exchange for cooperation. I was bathed, fed and clothed, and sent here."

The chief interrupted before Kengetar could launch into the next part of his speech. "But why can she not seek revenge herself? Why pick you, and why make these promises and give you such treatment?" he asked.

"As to your first question, I can but guess. There may be something in the ways of Northerners that prohibits doing one's own work. As to your second..." Kengetar hung his head bashfully. "I believe she is, uh, smitten with me." There were chuckles and smirks at this statement, and an arm of someone on his right gave him a congratulatory slap on the back. Kengetar disliked being at the center of such sport, but he allowed the moment of levity to pass, and loosen the tension in such dark times. The chief, however, remained impassive.

Kengetar took the lull in the conversation to launch into the next part of his speech. "Her plan requires us all to travel with her, and pose as slaves!" Immediately the jocular air in the tent soured, as the listeners scoffed in disgust. "I am not naive! I know that her promises of freedom seem unbelievable!" Kengetar pleaded. "But right now, playing along is the only way to prolong our lives! And thus far, she has at least made a show of keeping to her promise. We can use this time to regain our strength and prepare. I will stay close to her, and learn and gain what I can for you. If I learn that there is no hope for our release, I will signal by calling twice as the crying dove, and once as the sea hawk. Then the plan of escape will be in your hands."

The chieftain said nothing for a while, frowning and stroking his chin. He did not like accepting any plan that he did not come up with himself, but he did not see any other option. "Very well," he said. "We shall put it to a vote. All who agree with Kengetar's plan, raise your hands." Around the tent, hands went up. The chief counted them; there were far more hands up than down. "And are there any voices who oppose this plan?" he asked. No hands went up, and no voices spoke out. No one had any better ideas. "Very well. We put our fates in your hands, Kengetar," he said.

Kengetar relaxed. The Council disbanded. Others who were listening during the meeting, came up to him and asked questions, which he tried his best to answer. He also went around and gave away the articles of clothing he was given to those who needed it most. They could be used to warm the cold, or bind the wounded. At the end of it Kengetar was back down into nothing but a loincloth.

"To Wear the Throne"

Kengetar had been listening attentively. Most of the names were meaningless to him, except for Tella-Un. According to legend, Tella-Un was a sacred land where the Gods made their dwelling on the fiery mountaintop of Un, and was the center of the world. Though many of the names meant little, Kengetar understood the situation perfectly. In times past, a chieftain of his tribe had once insisted on taking multiple wives, and it had ended in much the same way. The feuds it had sparked were legendary, and grudges were held to this day over it.

When Melody placed her hand atop his, he started at, but did not withdraw from the unexpected contact. He looked directly into her eyes, and held the contact. There was no madness or deceit there, only sincerity and... Deep in her eyes, like a distant star, shined a light that was not wholly sane. He liked it. Kengetar still did not understand why she could not challenge and duel Gwenneth herself, and the promises of treasure and exodus still seemed like a wild dream, but given he was her captive, it did not seem he had much choice.

He turned his hand palm up and squeezed her hand. Her hand was warm, but calloused from hard riding and combat. As he slipped his hand away, their different roughnesses caught on each other, prolonging the contact. He rose to his feet, and still looking into her eyes, said, "Yes, I will do this for you." Kengetar said nothing more, for his word was his bond.

"To Wear the Throne"

The Sedent Tribe:

History and Location

The Sedent Tribe is located halfway on the Mouth of the Eastern Yall. Surrounded on one side by the sea, on another by a 100 km lake, and on two sides by rivers, and ensconced in a forest, their location is one of the most well-protected locations on the continent. Here, their society has gone on unchanged for centuries, blissfully unaware of the rise and fall of the Republic of Yalla, or any other nation. The era that the Sedent tribe arose remains a mystery. Its people's similar appearance to other people groups in the area imply a close relation, but whether the Sedents are a remnant of a more savage time or a recent tribe of outcasts is unknown.

In recent times, the scare tactics and belligerent actions have appeared to catch up with them. Their numbers have dwindled, as outsiders have become more thorough in their anti-Sedent measures, and travelers are now well aware of their evil reputation, and will alter their routes rather than enter their territory. If these conditions continue, or if the Sedents do not alter their strategies, it is uncertain if the Sedents will have a future.

People

The people of the Sedent tribe are fair skinned, with dark hair. their eyes range from brown, to blue, to green. Occasionally, a child is born with gray eyes. Sedents rarely have any facial or body hair to speak of, and those who do usually pluck it. Sedents are known to be tall and muscular, which is augmented by their rich diet. This only adds to the Sedents' fearful reputation.

Aging

The process of becoming considered an adult in Sedent society is an arduous process. In order to be reach adulthood, a candidate must first undergo a trial of pain where they receive a series of self inflicted cuts with a hot knife. If the candidate can do this without crying out or flinching, they may move onto the second trial, where they must carry out a theft or participate in a raid on another tribe. This done, the candidate will receive their first tattoos, placed on their face, to signify their courage. They will then be considered and adult. Further acts of bravery may be commemorated with additional tattoos.

After reaching adulthood, tribe members are expected marry off, pursue an occupation, and/or otherwise provide for the tribe in some way. Each of these roles a Sedent takes on will be commemorated with additional tattoos.

Once a Sedent reaches middle age, they will be considered an elder, and their words will have more weight than a mere adult's or likewise a child's.

Government

Laws are few in Sedent society, aside from "do not cheat or harm another Sedent." However, should a conflict arise, plaintiffs are able to argue their case before a Council. A Council is overseen and moderated by the Chieftain. At a Council meeting, any are allowed to attend, though only adults are allowed to have a voice. In rare circumstances, the Chief may mandate the speech or the silence of a tribe member at a Council. A Council is also used to call votes on decisions which affect the tribe, such as building projects, declaring war, or food allotment during times of famine.

The Chieftain's duty is also to direct the day-to-day agenda in the village, though these tasks are usually delegated to trusted elders who are considered experts in their field.

Though much has been said about the Council already, few cases ever reach that far. Most disputes are interpersonal squabbles that are settled quickly with a brawl. If a quarrel goes on too long or involves too many people, then the case is required to be brought before a council.

No laws apply to non-Sedents. Any act is permissible against a non-Sedent, and non-Sedents are not granted any rights in their society. However, certain individuals may gain a sort of grudging respect if they are considered to have "Sedent-like" traits.

Practices

Sedents stage periodic raids on nearby villages, passing traders, or individuals who are out hunting or gathering. In fact, this is one of the main sources of food and goods for the tribe. Any given object in the village is as likely to have been stolen as procured by the tribe itself. Captives are also taken, and are either ransomed back or sold as slaves if their kin are unwilling to pay.

Sedents protect themselves from reprisal and maintain a combative edge through the use of scare tactics. Attacks by stealth, scorn poles, curses, and occasional acts of cannibalism are among the tactics used.

While fighting is mainly a man's duty, a certain level of strength and aggression is expected from women as well.

Goods

The Sedents make extensive use of earthen and wooden fortifications. Wood is also used as a building material for homes, tools, and furniture. It goes without saying that one of the most valued professions in the tribe is that of a carpenter.

Sedents are able to smelt and forge metal, though they do not mine. They only take what pieces of ore can be found above ground or stolen from others. Most metal objects are made of bronze, though they can forge others as well. Iron can be forged, though the metal is considered too heavy and soft for armor or weaponry. The secret of steel is not yet known to Sedents, but they can forge it if they can get their hands on it. The quantity and quality of metal goods produced by the Sedents is limited by the small size of their forges, so wood, fiber, stone, bone, and sinew are more often used as building materials.

Diet

The Sedents have a wide and varied diet. From the land around them they receive game, fish, nuts and fruit. They are also agricultural, raising grains, vegetables, tubers, and various livestock, including chickens, ducks, geese, rabbits, cows, and goats. This is of course supplemented by what they steal in raids. In fact, some cornerstones of the Sedent diet are provided entirely by theft.

Beliefs

Despite their lack of education, Sedents are not a superstitious people. While the existence of gods and spirits is accepted, Sedents put more faith in the work of their own two hands and effort. Prayers are reserved for things that they truly have no control over, such as a prayer for a good catch of fish, or a sacrifice of grain to end a famine. The Sedents have no formalized priesthood, so anyone can make a supplication of the gods. Overall though, the highest god in their pantheon is pragmatism.

"To Wear the Throne"

(OOC: The orange is readable, but so was the green you picked earlier. The orange stands out better, though.)

Kengetar tried to feign appreciation, but it turned out as a stare and a grunt that made him seem bored instead. In an economical fashion, he dried himself off with the blanket before picking out his new clothes. He picked a new loincloth, a pair of buckskin leggings, a pair of soft leather turn-shoes, and a tunic made of woven fiber. The tunic was white, with an abstract pattern of red thread embroidered around its hem, cuffs, and its deeply v-cut collar. Kengetar had known the people whose clothes he was wearing. And while he had once envied them for their fine clothes, he hadn't wanted them like this. Not like this.

Kengetar went over to sit cross-legged in front of the platter, grabbing hocks of meat and sweet fruit with his bare hands and stuffed them unceremoniously into his mouth. As he ate he looked up dumbly at Melody, apparently sated. The woman apparently thought that he was childlike and unintelligent. Well, he would allow her to think that for a while longer. He would let her mother him, so he could regain his strength, and have her explain everything to him slowly and clearly, so he would understand everything about her plans.

"To Wear the Throne"

"I can clean myself," Kengetar grunted. "I'm not a baby." He threw one leg into the tub, giving Melody an eyeful. Kengetar waved away the slaves and resumed scrubbing and splashing. He could get himself clean enough without being mothered by his captor. The change in attitude and influx of new people was catching him off his guard, he realized. He had to somehow regain control of the situation's flow or he would be in big trouble, he decided. He switched legs. Once he finished washing himself, he stood and turned his head to look at Melody. Gazing through the veil of dark hair that was plastered to his face by wetness, he gave the impression of an animal lurking between brambles.

"There," he said. "What now?"

"To Wear the Throne"

The plan that she outlined sounded preposterous to him, but right now playing along with her mad plot was the only thing keeping him and his people alive, whether it be a lie or no. "My name is Kengetar," he muttered in answer to her previous question. At the same moment, he suddenly moved to the tub, though he made sure to keep himself on the side of it opposite from Melody. He did not know her name, or care to ask.

Kengetar did not step into the tub to bathe. To him, bathing was a communal affair, and was done in a natural body of water more often than not. Instead, he leaned over the side of the tub and dunked his head in, snorting and bobbing like a horse. Next he plunged in his arms, and scrubbed them, then splashed water over his shoulders and back, careless of the water he was splashing onto the rug. Between scrubbings, Kengetar stole a glance over at Melody. He had to admit, she was beautiful... physically at least. And her lascivious glances were making him nervous. He hunched over the tub a little farther. The clear steaming water was quickly turning murky from all the caked mud and blood Kengetar had washed off into it, and he was hardly half done.

"To Wear the Throne"

They were both exposed now, and as she circled him it felt like they were in some primal state. A vision suddenly came to him of her as a lioness and he as a wounded buffalo, both probing for a weakness in the other, waiting for the moment to tear the other to shreds. He knew that a buffalo could overcome a lion by standing its ground and charging at the last moment, and he reasoned that he would, too.

"What game is this?" he spat, tracking her with his eyes, but not moving. "You have defeated us utterly. You can take what you want, and do as you wish. Why do you now curry favor with honeyed words and gifts? And who am I that you should parley with me? Why do you not speak to our chieftain or our master of the hunt, or their sons if they are already slain?"