Birth of the Tempest [Defense]

[Deleted]

The new day came as quickly as the prior left. To Luca it felt as though he never slept that night, more as though it were a blink and then he needed to rise. He did so begrudgingly and with respect for his duties. His tent was empty of all save himself and his scarce belongings. Was this the privilege afforded to a leader or merely space to afford it to him? He waved the thoughts away before they grew into other concerns of legitimate value.

He looked around and tended to his bedroll, rolling it tightly and binding it with cord before grooming himself. He kept his particular look about himself with particular attention. His face was cleanly shaven and shaped unless he wanted it to be otherwise, and appearance could not be below reproach. Rolling his shoulders he made himself more comfortable with the waking hours. He grabbed the mass of cloth that would hold his spear and headed outside.

Parting the tent flaps he squeezed shut his eyes as the rays of light blinded him furiously. He forced himself out into the wind and the sun for today was the day of the clansmeet. With a sigh he looked hopefully, for the rest of his clan, they have yet to arrive. With a sigh he shouldered his spear and began to walk around; taking in the locale.

All the forces that had assembled were incredible. There were so many people, did Sacae always house such a population? Regardless, he was as of yet the only member of the Solune, and an outsider at that. If they do not show it would reflect most poorly on his adoptive tribe. He would earn both personal favor from his fellows and the resulting scorn of the slighted. A give and take he was loath to accept.

In the distance was Selibas, rising likely earlier than even he had. The man called the summit together but even he showed great reverence to other tribes the day prior. His own not included. Though it did not bother him, the respect of an equal was far greater to him than the longing of a follower.

Who was this Selibas anyway? He seemed to be a well enough liked individual but, that aside what was there to him? He was a chief but that was all he knew, heck, that was all he knew about most people here. Something he should rectify promptly. He soon found himself watching a duel between swordsman.

Both seemed to have solid technique and enjoying themselves, one however was clearly the better. With a cross of his arms and setting his spear down he watched until it met its natural conclusion. He clapped softly but legitimately. "I'm impressed, it's not everyday one meets swordsmen of your abilities. I count my blessings to have you both as allies." He looked at Duma and the other. "I'd even say you could give me a run for my money." A compliment he never made lightly to a sword user.

[Duma]

The duel was interesting. The young man he had been fighting me had a style that Duma did not recognize. It was a strange mix of martial arts and swordplay. The young man had also perfected a type of sword upper cut that Duma found it difficult to parry. As they sparred Duma couldn't help but give the younger swordsman some tips. In the end though Duma won. He helped up his opponent off the ground. There was a bit of a crowd gathered around watching. Some were clapping much to Duma's embarrassment. The green haired swordsman had gained some insight into a new technique. Which he would have to learn and train in order to incorporate it into his own style. Duma quietly sheathed his sword.

A man came from the crowd. Another man he did not know, but this person was large, well built, and had brown hair. From the weapon he carried Duma assumed he was a lancer of some sort. There were several of them that roaming around the tribes. Mostly fisherman or spear men that have turned their spears against each other in the name of glory. The most recent tribe to join them the Temulun seemed to be full of them. But this man did not seem to be from that tribe. As most of the gossip that had been floating around the various tribe seem to address the Temulun as a proud warrior race. As the man spoke about both their skills Duma found himself with a bit of pink on his cheeks.

"You praise us too highly, sir." Duma spoke while the other man seemed to nod in agreement. He bowed out of respect and left to rejoin his clan. Duma was left to make conversation with this stranger. This man's garb was something not often seen in Sacae. He had no distinct tribal clothes, but he had a necklace made of Doog teeth, and tribal markings he could see peeking through his coat.

"Hm. You sir, not the clothes of a Sacean man. Nor do you speak the common tongue with an accent. Perhaps you and I be similar.. outsiders.. whom were adopted into the culture. Though I suspect you have taken it a step further and have become one of the tribe. Ah my apologies if that offended."

[Selibas]

The little wolf was ready to make his case. It was odd, the first time he had left the plains, so many things had seen so far away. Now some were behind him, and some were so close he could taste them. He had once dreamed of a day a few tribes could come together, but this? This was stunning, this was unreal. There was an army here, or at least the makings of one. They would need to be broken before they could be whole.

The most surprising arrival was that of the Lorca. The massive tribe had shown up a few hours after daybreak, road weary, but it was a shock to Selibas that they had even come. He was expecting a messenger at the most, but this was a huge statement. The validity the Lorca banner, a painted image of an Elk running, flying with all these others, it made this feel so much more real. Not as surprising, the Djute had chosen to send in a messenger. That made just as much sense as the Kutolah's lack of attendance. He knew very well that the Djute were fighting an invasion from South Eastern Sacae. He knew that very well.

Selibas had walked to the meeting place, and simply waited. His head needed to be clear. There weren't enough hours in the day for him to truly prepare himself, but he sat cross legged on the grass, and tried to clear his mind. Selibas closed his eyes, and let a deep breath out from his nostrils. When he opened his eyes again, he had to contain his shock. Time had passed, a lot of time. The pavilion had filled with Khans, and their honor guard, Kheshig, or blood brothers. Selibas let another long sigh, this time from his mouth. He stood, and noticed that Dale sat next to him, on his left. Many warriors from each tribe had gathered behind their Khan and their guards, hoping to hear as much as they could.

The green haired Khan threw his chin up, and walked into the center. Hard eyes pierced him from all directions, maybe the hardest coming from Naran-Org, the Khan of the Lorca, who in his seat, opposite Selibas, was surrounded by the largest entourage. Selibas did not clear his throat, but successfully threw his voice out, speaking the language he had learned so slowly as a child.

"I am Selibas Sacae." The murmurs of so many were a roar. It had been a calculated risk to jump ahead that far, to claim he was a man of a tribe that consisted of the whole plain. A risk he may regret. However, they needed to hear it. If it threw them off now, they'd be off balance the whole meeting. "I am Selibas, Khan of the Sumis and Aurumiaf tribe. I am the one who has called you here today, and you are those who have come. I know why you have come. You have seen the horror, cutting into your gers, burning the grass between your toes, killing your sons and daughters. Here we are then, all of us together. This is a start." He paused for a moment. He heard the warriors close to the edge of the pavilion passing his words back to those who could not hear.

A voice rang in his head, Do not stall. Do not dance around with pretty words. That's not for them, not when they're dying. Selibas spoke once more, keeping his voice level, "In the invasions of Sacae in the past, we have faced defeat at every turn, why? We face armies. We face countries. We are neither. While Sacaens die fighting some outside source, if we are not neutral, we are fighting alongside the enemy. In the past, we have faced conquerors, and we were saved by outside forces. We face conquerors now, and who will aid us? The continent, save Bern, is at war with a country. Lycia, if there's fighting, has a chance to repel Etruria. Ilia is fighting, and it's much the same. What of Sacae? There is no one coming to save us. If things continue as they are, we will be rolled over, our way of life severed by the sword and replaced by the babble of a risen corpse who could use magic. Maybe before they march into Etruria, they will come and liberate us?" The murmurs were angry again. No insults to honor, however true, were appreciated. Selibas decided to play to that.

"Is that what we want? To wait for the world to end, siting on our hands while we are saved by whichever nation has not conquered us? Do we want to be like sheep, waiting on our plains while the armies of this prophet are killed by others? Or would we rather be like wolves, who lead the charge into his lands, making him pay. The only reason no invasion has wiped us out, is because we are the greatest military force in the world. We simply haven't made our military yet." The short khan balled his hands into fists. Never had he been more aware of his height, but he would not let the tall men in assembly intimidate him. They wanted to, they always thought they could, he could feel it.

The young man continued, "Some have already agreed, but that is what I have brought us here to propose. We need to, as one, rout our invaders. When they are gone, we can see to our defenses, to retrieving what we lost in resources as the souls lost in the war have gone on. We are Sacae, we are the plains of the worlds greatest horses. We are the Scabbard of the world's greatest swordsmen. We are the quiver of the world's greatest archer's." Selibas' eyes brightened as he got an idea. His head snapped around to his cousin. Dale, your quiver!"

His cousin rose, and hurried to him, holding out his quiver. Looking at the Lorca Khan, Selibas pulled a single thick arrow from the quiver. "One." He snapped the arrow. A few faces reacted to the waste. He took another, and looked into the face of another Khan. "One." Another snap. He did this two more times. Then he took from the quiver at least thirteen arrows. There were far more than thirteen tribes and clans in attendance now, but he needed to grab a large enough amount that he could still hold. It would not do to look like a fool and drop an arrow while he had the eyes of his people on him. With both hands, Selibas attempted to break the arrows, but they did not snap. He said, "All." He slid the arrows back into the quiver and nodded to Dale. His cousin returned to his seat without a word. "Who will stand with me? Who would speak against me?"

It was Bugidai, Khan of the Taichi'ut, who rose first. He cleared his throat, and walked into the circle. Selibas retreated, but did not sit down. Bugidai spoke, "I greet you Selibas." He did not use the full name Selibas had given. "I am Bugidai Taichi'ut, Khan of the Taichi'ut. I speak against this child who styles himself a Khan. Sacae has survived and fought for centuries against any fool from the outside who would try and stomp us, and we will continue to do so. When Etruria tries to march on my tribe, I will fight them as I always have. There is nothing else to be said, it has always been so." He curtly turned and walked to his seat. Selibas exhaled, hopefully the next speaker would argue with Bugidai instead of him.

[Altani]

There was a hanging sense of wonder within the early morning. When the sun was still attempting to wake the world from its heavy slumber, and darkness was still present in the midst of fleeing beams of light that crested over every hill in Sacae. The blades of grass were wet still from morning dew, and the slight chill that crept through the air served to shock the senses into a higher state of awakened nature. Altani found this to be her favorite moment. Occasional shadows moved in the distance through out the camp, both of her own people and the other gathered Sacaens. It was at this time, she felt like a true daughter of Sacae. Crouched upon the hillside that separated the Temulun from the other Sacaens, he lowered herself so that one knee pressed to the moist green blades of grass. She felt every passing moment with sharper detail. Every breath came with a heightened awareness as she began to focus on every small minute detail of herself. The faint rising of her chest while she attempted to mask her breaths with silence. The brief and occasional twitching sensation within her right wrist. The tension in her calf muscle to her bent leg, and the very minute sense of her knee sliding ever so slightly along the wet grass that she pressed her body's weight against.

Soon she would hear it. The ringing of blades from her camp. Training strikes and standard morning procedures for her tribe. Most had sparing partners to pit themselves against. This could last from a few moments if the duel was one sided, or several hours into the day if the spirit of competition burned fiercely. Though she longed to spar against her cousins on this morning...she could not. For their bouts were always fierce, and drawn out ones. She had an obligation as the representative of her father, and could not allow herself to be lost in the heat of competition.

When the sun had finally risen, the Sacaen woman made her way quietly back to her own people. As she neared her tent however, both males were already dressed and waiting. At each sacaens hip was a curved blade resting secure with in the crimson sheaths. However, one also sported a bow and quiver along his back. Altani looked to them, first with a ghost of a smile, and then with a more serious expression as she squared her shoulders.

"It's time."


It was the first time Altani had seen so many Sacaen leaders gathered. She had seen a fair few at the City of Heroes...but she had not seen this many before. However, where most would feel a sense of anxiety...she felt a rush. Perhaps it was simply in her blood to seek challenge..but here there were so many that were likely at her skill or higher. Some she was more proficient in combat than, certainly, but with so many gathered..how many good opponents could she find? However this spectacular venture would have to wait. For as the small green haired Sacaen known as " Selibas Sacae ,like most she partially scoffed at this name, began to speak of Etruria. The threat it possessed, and why they needed to fight them together. While she did not like the way he spoke, she did like what he implied...and it gave her an idea. Arrow metaphor aside, it seemed some did not like the idea of fighting one another. Though she was young, her blood held the fire within that proved her to be Temulun. Something it was time to show, it seemed.

As the outspoken elder stepped back, she began to stride to the center. The small metallic clinks of her obsidian shaded armor plates brushing together all but announced her appearance. Though there was less sway in her step than most females, it was replaced by a commanding presence. The armor was different from the robes and modest clothing warn by traditional Sacaens. It was of her family, and proudly displayed the warrior nature that her people held dear. Unlike the armored knights of Lycia or Bern though, it was entirely segmented. A separate piece to cover her chest and abdominal singularly. Twin shoulder plates. Vambraces and wrist guards. Shin guards and boots. The cape that trailed behind her was orange and red, to represent the blood of their people and the fire it held. Altani was sure of herself, and as she moved to speak, she prepared to speak with the voice of her people behind her. She spoke loudly, and almost in a defiance only her people would muster before others.

"I am Altani Ghoa. Daughter of Dodai Ghoa, Khan of the Temulun. I speak in his stead, and if any dare question my worth at this meeting let us take to the contest of spear and blade!" It was certain to send the entire room into tension, or those who did not know the Temulun well enough. However this was almost like a tradition in and of itself. Her father would have done the same, were it he speaking instead of her. However when no one spoke against her right to be there, she tucked a stray strand of emerald hair behind her ear and continued onwards. The brief gesture of almost softness was belittled by the fire that took her tone as she turned to address the Khan who had just spoken.

"You say you are content to wait..but why? These Etrurians. Though we have yet to face them ourselves, the Temulun know of their cruelties. They are beasts. As such, they should be hunted. There is far more glory to hunt as family than alone, for what one of the party brings in we all bring in! Though I guess it is expected, for merchants to sit on the sidelines. You are Khan of your people. They will do as you wish, and what you wish is to wait. Not us. The Temulun see a grand honor to be had, participating in this hunt!" Her voice seemed to raise with each tone. Though her ferocity and passion were not directed towards the man as much as they were simply unloaded upon. "Sacae has shown their might. We are warriors! We are hunters! Let the prey that we take into our sights tremble! Though the Temulun shall only ever follow Temulun, sooner would I hunt alongside other tribes then be expected to kneel before a stranger! No! We shall not roll over and play dead...and the Temulun bow to no one! "

She turned to Selibas now, and as she did so she lifted her spears from her back. As swiftly as she had lifted them up, she turned and stabbed them into the ground. Temulun were war like, but they were honorable. Pulling her hunting knife from the strap along her mid thigh and lifted it. Beneath the armored plate that covered her knuckles she turned her hand to reveal the exposed pale skin of her palm. She ran the sharp cool metal edge along her palm in a thin but precise cut. The freshly made wound bled swiftly, but the pain was welcome. Any wound made to brotherhood was a wonderful one. She then switched the hand which was held by the knife, staining the hilt with traces of red as she made a similar cut. As the knife was placed back into the sheath at her thigh, she lifted her hands and pressed the closed fists to her shoulders. She curled her fingers, so traces of thick dark red blood began to develop inbetween the folded digits, before she grabbed at her spears shafts and pressed the blades further into the ground slowly.

"Upon my blood, I swear to hunt with you Selibas, as long as you hunt these Etrurian beasts that stalk our lands! I swear to hunt them with all Sacaen brothers and sisters! Glory to us all! "

She turned to look to her cousins. Both were her honor guard, as well as in this case fulfilling the role of witness to her oath. She nodded, and both men strode towards the center of the gathering at either side of her. Each one removed the blades at their hip, and slowly ran the blade along their upper palms in a mirror of Altani's. A single hand to their single weapons, before stabbing their blades lightly into the ground as she had her spears. With how they squeezed their hands, and she squeezed hers, it forced the blood to flow from their weapons. In that moment, a small trickling path could be seen down the shaft of her spears, and the blades of their swords. The blood fell from their palms, to the soft ground beneath. An oath that Temulun made, swearing upon the blessing of Gaea herself. Altani removed her spears and spoke loudly in the Temulun tongue, one rare enough that liekly only a handful in the room understood.

"Kote! Kote! Vode An!"

Glory! Glory! Brothers all!

She turned her back slowly, sliding the spears back into place along the holsters while she heard her cousins quietly fall into place behind her. She would still speak up to argue if she heard something she disagreed with. However, she had made her stance clear. After-all..the Temulun favored action over words...so she was quick to show how they truly felt.

[Yaen]

Never had Yaen seen such a gathering of the children of the plains. He recalled his first time into Bulgar, how the sheer number of people from so many tribes had amazed him. That childish wonder was nothing compared to what he felt now. This was beyond anything that had been witnessed within the lifetime of any Sacaen here.

He had been given the privelage to sit closest to the front, behind Khan Yahari and his Keshig. He watched as the young Khan introduced himself, just as taken back by the youthful declaration of Sacae rather than his own tribe. The boy's speech, however, was something to be respected. And he was right. Yaen had seen much of the outside world. He knew that Eturia was too large to be defeated by rabble, regardless of what others may say.

As the Khans and their representatives began to speak in turn, Khan Yahari stroked his beard. Finally, as the young representative ended her own rousing declaration, he rose a hand to one of his Keshig. The Amasi warrior rose and strode into the center, his hand resting upon his blade as he looked around the gathering. "Khan Yahari speaks!" he barked. Finally, the old swordsman rose from his place, and as he stepped forward, the Keshig bowed and backed away into his place. Khan Yahari looked around, the elderly warrior studying the faces gathered.

"Khans of Sacae. Speakers of the Khans. The Amasi people are an old people, and a proud people. We have always held dear to the traditions of our ancestors, and passed them down to our children, so that they may in turn pass them down to their children. We who call ourselves Amasi have always held it to be true that wisdom should be shared freely, and in turn accepted with humility and gratitude. And so, it fills me with shame, to see that it is the young who must now have wisdom fall upon the deafened ears of the old, who have chosen to embrace ignorance." A murmur fell upon the congregation, but the Khan held up a hand and leveled a stare that dared any to challenge his words. "Khan Bugidai Taichi'tu. A Khan, recognized by his people, asked for your presence, to speak to you and to be spoken too. Yet you come and insult him. You insult your host, and insult your hosts people. You shame yourself, and you bring shame upon those who look to you for guidance."

The old Khan's hand rested upon his own sword. His intentions were clear. Yahari was old, but he was a swordsman of the Amasi. Seeing none rise to oppose his words, the Khan continued. "There are those here who rebuke this young Khan's words, who would refuse to fight alongside those not of their own tribes. You would say that it has always been so. You would say that it would disgrace your ancestors. Yet did not Hanon side with foreigners to fight a great scourge upon the people of the world? Are we not her children? Is this not our inheritance, given to us by our great ancestor? And yet you say it is shameful to stand side by side with your kin, your brothers of Hanon's lineage, and fight to defend it when others would deny us our birthright? You would not only spit upon her efforts, but put your people to the sword, to satisfy your pride, and hide behind tradition as your justification? If so, then you are not worthy of Hanon's legacy! You say that you will only fight with your kin! I say that all those who would fight to protect Hanon's lineage are my brothers!"

The Khan turned to face Selibas, and approached him, untill there was but a foot between them. "I see you, Brother." he stated, drawing a small blade from his waist. "You have named yourself Selibas Sacae. Whether others would dispute this claim, whether or not this bold declaration you make of a united tribe fails, to my people, you will forever be Selibas Amasi, brother of my soul. This I swear, by the spirit of my blade, and by the life of my blood." He dug the blade into his left hand, and turned with the bleeding palm raised high. "From this day forward, a slight upon this man is a slight upon me! So says Khan Yahari! So says the Amasi people! Let it be known, that regardless of what others decide this day, the Amasi fight! We fight for our land, we fight for our honor, and we fight for our Brothers, the Sumis and the Aurumiaf! Stand with us, and it will matter not if we die, for our ancestors will welcome us as warriors of Sacae! Abandon us, and may you hang your heads in shame in their presence, knowing that you have failed all Hanon's children!"

Khan Yahari sheathed the small dagger, and again took his seat. He did not bat an eye, nor turn a head as the murmuring broke out once more. The oath had been made. The Amasi would fight. "Why?" Yaen whispered to his uncle. He understood the decision to unite, but to make such a spectacle with an oath of blood? It seemed slightly extreme.

"To help the boy." His uncle replied. "The elders will not respect him for his youth. Khan Yahari has endorsed him not only in word, but in blood. Now it does not matter if they feel him undeserving of his position. There are those who will respect the Khan's decision, and it will influence their own. As for the others... Should they insult the boy, they will insult Khan Yahari as well. They will choose their words far more carefully knowing that they may offend one they see as equal."

[Midori]

Several weeks ago word of gathering had reached the eyes and ears of the Chaklai. The elder one and her council of priests went into meditation and consulted with the spirits. Believing the act of war to be chaotic they deemed it necessary to become envoys of order. So they called and gathered a number of their priesthood and instructed them to ride out. To protect them along the journey a small band of fighters rode with them. But they were not simply content with guarding the healers. They too would fight under the banner of the Chaklai for all of Sacae. So they marched, some 200 Chaklai crossed the plains in order to reach the designating meeting grounds.

Midori shook her head in a minor attempt to stave off sleep. The ride had been long and hard for all of them. The weather disagreed with them. And often time their supply wagon wheels kept breaking, which forced them to stop, and make repairs. They arrived on the eve of the second day and just barely managed to set up their camp ground. Their red and white tents added to the veritable mix of the other Sacean tents. The red represented the color of their plums or possibly the color of blood. The white lotus blossom painted on the center banner represented their belief of order amid the chaos. No sooner had they managed to put down their belongings, did the first few nomads come to them. Those who recognized the banner knew of the clan... they knew of the healers to the south. With such a large congregation of nomads, there was fighting, there were injuries, there were people that needed their services.

Midori let out a soft yawn. I wish they would let us rest first. She thought to herself and quietly dismounted off of her grey mare. She gave the creature an affectionate pat on it's snout. She gently guided the creature over towards the small patch of land they designated for the animals. She let the horse roam free for a while so that it could eat and drink. She headed back towards her clan's tents. The more experienced healers handled the serious wounds. Which left Midori and a majority of the other novice healers left to tend those with minor injuries. Midori's first client was a young boy with a sprained wrist. She gave the child a warm smile and grabbed her staff. It's going to be a long day.

[Selibas]

As Khan Yahari returned to his seat, Selibas followed him with his eyes. It was bold of him to take that stand so early in the moot, and Selibas would thank him for it later. For now, all he could do was nod when the man had taken his seat. It was a bold move, and one that the young Khan hoped would have a larger affect on the game.

The next Khan to stand was one Selibas had not expected to see, or thought to have even looked for. It was Khan Khulan of the Fruchili. The little wolf's face brightened, it was good to see an ally's face among a sea of strangers. Khulan gave him a minor smile and tilt of his own head. Then he began, "I am Khan Khulan, Khan of the Western Fruchili. My people have fought these Etrurians in the West, we have no time to wait and sit, like some of you may wish to. I have seen my brother's killed and my sister's..." He coughed, and raised his head, "I have seen this war that you have heard of, and I do not want our children to see the same thing. This is a war on the plains, not a war on the Kutolah, it will not stop. They do not care for the divisions of clan and tribe. That is something only we think of."

Khulan turned, and raised his hand, pointing at Selibas. The young chief kept his face calm as he said, "I have fought against Etruria, but my tribe has fought with this man. To win a war against an enemy of us all, we must be all." He held his hand out, not taking his eyes off of Selibas. A young warrior from his guard sprinted into the circle and presented his Khan with his saber. It was thicker than most Sacaen swords, much like the Fruchili themselves. The Khan wrapped his left hand around the blade, then slid the sword back. He let a thin line of blood fall to the ground. "I swear an oath to you and any who make the oath to you. The same oath of Khan Yahari. All who ride against the Etrurians to me are as brothers now, close to me as those who rode to this meeting at my side. I swear to see them cast out, and to stand with you, as Khulan Sacae." As murmurs started up again, he nodded to Selibas, then to Yahari, then to Altani. He looked at Bugidai for a few moments, then turned and returned to his seat, handing the young warrior his sword. As he took a seat, he bound his cut with a bit of cloth.

That was three that had bled for him, two that had meant it. If enough tribes with good names would stand for him in the beginning, it would give him a better chance at swaying those who did not recognize his name. As the meeting grew quiet, a number of chiefs looked at the Khan of the Lorca. His statement could sway many of the tribes to either side, however Naran-Org, did not seem prepared to speak. His face remained hard and set. Instead, it was his brother who stood.

Nassad, the younger brother of Naran-Org stood and walked to the center of the circle. He had left his tribe when his brother had been made Khan, forming the Arulad, but he had maintained a friendship with his brother. His voice was deep, but emotional when he said, "I am Nassad Arulad, Khan of two hundred. My people are true to our ancestors and true to Sacae. I mean no disrespect when I say that I disagree with the statements of those who speak to fighting alongside other tribes." He spun to look at Selibas.

"Khan Selibas of Sacae would have you all believe we are weak. Well, the Sumis and the Aurumiaf may be brittle, but the Arulad are of strong stock." The Khan looked at Altani, then said, "This is not a hunt, this is a grasp at change that need not come to pass." His eyes fell to Yahari, "When Hanon stood with those not of her own, it was against Dragons. When a dragon descends on Sacae, then I will ride with those not of mine." Finally, Nassad looked at Khulan. "You. You would swear your life away to this boy? That is something I cannot abide. I cannot stand by at the sight, as many men who I would view as equal would seek to raise a boy not fit to sit a saddle or swing a sword to a Khan larger than any tribe. I have made my piece, and the Arulad will return to our land, and wait. If the Etrurians come against us, we will stand on our own as Sacaens have for centuries, and if we fall, our ancestors will commend us for not turning away from their traditions." With that he turned, and he with his warriors quickly left the pavilion.

A few Khans and speakers looked to Selibas. The young Khan kept his face from being too emotional, but he did allow his left eyebrow to raise. It was an expression he had been unable to hide since his childhood, the reaction his face had to a desire to spit something sarcastic at someone. He allowed it to fall, then calmly waited once more. The Arulad were not an old tribe, but they were a powerful one. The next speaker may have a hard time forming an argument with the influence of the Arulad ringing in their mind.

[Chelsea Dagger]

Chelsea stood by her father's side as the meeting got underway. She was still unsure of whether or not this was actually happening. The idea of so many Sacaen tribes coming together in one place to potentially join forces was something of a bedtime story. It wasn't something that she ever thought would happen. And yet here she was. She tried to take in what was being said, but in truth it was far for her to stay focused on such long, winding speeches. That was why she would probably never become any sort of chief, and she was fine with that.

What she did notice, however, was one of the people who stepped up to speak. Altani. Her eyes widened slightly. She hadn't seen Altani in... maybe five, six years? Maybe even longer than that. The two had been friendly once upon a time, as their fathers had known each other as well. Her father actually took this time to point her out and comment that he wondered if she would be her or not. He also gave Chelsea a look that she knew well, and was a look that resulted in her hitting him. Chelsea had always had something of a crush on Altani, whether or not the other girl knew it. Her father, however, had a knack of knowing when she had crushes and loved to tease her on them.

Unable to peel her eyes away from Altani, Chelsea only vaguely heard the other speeches going on. In fact, her attention was only pulled back when she heard Barton begin to speak. Her father and her shared a look and couldn't help but grin. Oh, Barton. He was a great chief, but public speaking was not his strongest attribute. They both knew that his wouldn't be like any of the longer speeches that had been going on, and they were right. Barton stepped forward. "We, the Miagani, shall fight with you. Live together, die alone as they say. And we don't feel like dying yet." With that, he gave a little nod and stepped back.

Chelsea and her father were fighting back laughter. "Well, it wasn't his worst speech of all time." She said, wiping a tear away. The pair of them sighed and turned their attentions back towards the rest of the assembly. They were going to fight. Now it was time to see who else would be fighting besides them.

[Duma]

After a breif chat with the man named Luca, Duma dismissed himself. The Qazvin had invited Duma to join them in the Khan meeting. As the other Khans slowly started to make their case to unite or remain separate, Duma shifted his gaze around the gathering of people. It was a strange feeling for him, like he was out of place. Here he was a Eturian raised man, standing amid a small pool of nomads. Of the people who lived, breathed, fought, bled, and died on the plains. United by the grace of mother earth and father sky, Eturia was setting their plains on fire, slaughtering their people, all under the name of their supposed "prophet". An act that.. he thought would have instantly united the plain's folk.. And here they were.. divided. Arguing.. deserting... The little wolf Selibas was trying to make a miracle happen by unifying all of these different peoples.

Duma felt his hands turning into fists. These Khans were naive to the horrors of Eturia. Duma knew better. He knew how far insane Eturia had become from the inside. He was there to witness how the people cheered in the streets upon news that their king had fallen by the divine might of the prophet. How Eturia had slain countless of innocent people in an attempt to purify their lands. How he had to keep his head down and his mouth shut just to keep himself out of trouble from the eyes and ears of the prophet's goons. He wanted to say something... anything. But what could he say to them? To Khans who would only listen to the words of other Khans.

Duma felt a hand on his sleeve. The elder one, the Matriarch Kas was looking up at him. Duma crouched down low to be at ear level to the elderly woman. She had heard the words of the others and wished to tell young Selibas that the Qazvin would stand with him. Once the other Khan's had spoken their oaths. Duma and the elder one's son guided her over to the little wolf. The elder one's teal robes gently scraped across the grasses with each one of her tiny steps.

"Little wolf. The people of the eastern shores join you. We the Qazvin.. are a small clan.. but we are mighty." She swore an oath to the young Khan. Then pointed her finger up at Duma.

"He.. will join you too. But I believe it be best to hear him speak." There was a bit of a wry smile on her face as she made her way back to her clan. Leaving Duma standing there in front of Selibas. Well.. thanks a lot elder one. Putting me on the spot.. His thoughts stopped when he noticed that Selibas reached up to his chest. Little wolf indeed.

"Forgive me. I had not expected.. the elder one to leave me here so suddenly." Duma cleared his throat lightly.

"I am Duma. A man who is no Khan.. and who has no clan... a man who has no known blood ties to Sacae what so ever. But I know the threat Eturia poses upon these lands.. all too well. I've seen both the damage Eturia does to it's own.. and to those who disapprove of their crazy ideology... And for that.. you have my sword." Duma bowed his head. With his moment over, the swordsman got up and returned to his place by the Qazvin. Two more Khan's from Duma's past followed behind him, the Sama and the Gula. They too quickly swore their alliance to the little wolf.

[Selibas]

Selibas nodded at the Khan of short words. Then the khan of the Qazvin also threw in for the cause. Then the Khan passed the metaphorical speaking stick over to another man, a stranger to most. Selibas vaguely recognized the man however, probably having seen his face the day before. The man spoke the truth, detailing the viciousness of the Etrurians. Then, he swore his sword. It was only the one, not nearly as big a gesture, but one the Short Khan was happy to accept. To show his appreciation, he touched his hand to his chest, leaving the fingers open. He would remember his face now, and after the meet he would meet him, and thank him personally. Hopefully every other individual sword and bow didn't think he needed to step forward and speak. They'd be here til Selibas was an old man if they did.

With a fierce snarl, another Khan rose to speak. He was a young man that was tall even for a Sacaen, and he moved with a swagger that may have been false bravado. He began speaking the moment he was in the center of the circle. He spoke with confidence, but his voice was higher than Selibas'. "I am Jarun Oranor. Khan of the Clan of Oranor, I fight with over three hundred at my back. I have no intention to swear my sword away, these Etrurians do not have me shaking in my boots. Those you call," with the you he lifted his finger and pointed at the Khan, "Selibas Sumis, are not of Sacae. This is who you get to speak for you, little Khans and outsiders."

He let his insult sink in for a moment to all the assembled Khans. Then he stared hard at Selibas. "I know who you are, Selibas Sumis. You are a Khan's nephew, son of a Bern man. Your cousin was a good Sacaen, and you are an outsider. Down to the very way that you grip your sword, you are not of these plains. Any that stand with him, are fools, giving themselves over to this half-breed. If you truly think that you may avoid the damnation of your ancestors by going to your knees for this boy, then you are no Sacaen." Unlike the last Khan to speak up against the Little Wolf, Jarun returned to his seat, and sat down crossing his legs.

Selibas balled his fists, but did not alter his expression. It was all he could do to not walk over to the tall khan and snap him in two. He could do it. Tall men assumed they were his superior, it was always the case. They thought he had a little man complex, that he was so angry with the sky father for making him short. He didn't, and he wasn't. He was fine with his height, but not with the way people always treated him for it. They stood over him looking down, smiling, and calling him things like 'buddy'. Your buddy doesn't knock the teeth out of your smile. The man had also called him boy. The short khan was in no way proud of the killing he'd done, but he'd pull the head's of every man he'd killed on a leash behind him if it would stop those who'd seen little battle from calling him boy. Still, he had to stay calm, it would likely not be the last insult hurled at him today.

The next Khan to rise was a young man only a few inches taller than Selibas himself, this one's face covered in scars. Selibas remembered him from when both were three years younger, and neither were Khan. He spoke, his voice thick like molasses on a hot day, "I am the Khan of the Baarin, and my name is Delger. My clan has for the longest watched the Mountains of Sacae. We have watched and waited, and all of you have forgotten. The Baarin have long fought the enemies of our tribe, as we have done it we have killed all of your enemies. As a khan I speak for my tribe. For that I will say, my sword is Sacae's and all of the Baarin. We swear to you Selibas." Delger's face softened noticeably, he even grinned at Selibas. It was shocking to see such a damaged face brighten, however, when Delger returned to his tribe they jostled him, and treated him like a brother. He did not take a Khan's seat, he merely disappeared within the other warriors.

Selibas exhaled through his nostrils. It was almost time for him to speak once more.

[Selibas]

A few more Khans spoke then, smaller ones now. Many were doing what they thought best, many what they thought honorable. A small few acted for some kind of personal glory. Wishing to side with Selibas before one of the larger tribes would give their opinion, cementing themselves in the favor of history if the union was effective. Others scoffed, and declared they'd not submit to his power play, a light in their eye showing they merely believed that he would fail, and that by turning from him now they would seem incredibly wise. It was a fairly small number, but still, it irked Selibas that men and women who claimed to be Sacaen would act in such a fashion. Those who swore to Sacae would be shown why it was necessary. Those who didn't would be broken if they needed to be. Then it happened, there was a large enough lull for Selibas to speak once more.

The short khan stepped forward, but turned back to his torguud, and saw Coke, a broad swordsman formerly of the Aurumiaf, he said to him quietly "Coke, make your way to my ger, get my lightbrand, the sword with a green jewel in the pommel. Bring it to me if you could." It was no request, but Selibas liked Coke, he didn't want to appear too needlessly harsh. Real power was commanding with a calm tone and a quiet voice. Selibas then took the final steps towards the center of the circle. Letting another long breath out of his nostrils once more, the little wolf gathered his thoughts.

"Those of you who have spoken, I Selibas Sacae thank you." There were no more murmurs. "I will remember and take to heart everything that has been said here. Those who have spoken for me, and those against. A khan does not forget."

"I am going to throw myself at this Plague with everything that I have. Had all of you said you would not fight him, I still would have rode with my men to face him, because he is a fire sweeping us away. With space, the fire grows, fueling itself with each small stream of air that flows against it. That is only if we allow it to have time between the gales. I mean to make us not gales, but a tempest, a sweeping wind that rends the earth and strangles the fire. I mean to make us a tempest that blows the world away when it means to collapse in upon us. We are Sacae, and we will show them what that means."

"We are the truest fighters in the world, our arrows fly straight and our sword cuts deep. If we are one, there is no castle we cannot break down, no army we could not wreck. I have fought beneath the wings of wyvern and pegasus, and I can tell you that against a Sacaen volley they would fall. With you, my silver people, as one tribe, the world would tremble under the beating of a thousand hooves. If one branch of us rides to aid the Kutolah, another the Djute, we could destroy our invaders, repel them and be done with these priests of Elimine. These men and women who come to your people and tell them that the Sky Father is a falsehood, that the Earth Mother is a w***e. We can push them out as one, a hundred times easier than alone my brothers and sisters. They are slow, they are weak, but they are one. We are fast, we are strong, but we are scattered. We must be one." Selibas nodded again and returned to his position. No sign of Coke.

At once, the delegate of the Djute and Naran-Org Khan of the Lorca rose together, and stared each other down. Neither wanted to offend the other, but they also wouldn't give the other any ground. For a moment, the whole moot sat in silence, staring at the two men. Had it not been against tradition, Selibas would have interrupted, but it would not do to have him talk once more so quickly.

[Kenshin]

In the time after the battle against Hargus and his ragtag army of bandits and monsters sightings of the famed swordsman was scarce. Kenshin had used that time to allow his wounds to heal, as well as call upon allies in Lycia. Each passing day he had longed to return to Sacae to meet his foe head on, but knew it was unwise. Before coming to the meeting site he had gone to his home to gather some things, much like when he left Lycia, he had left his home by his self. He had arrived shortly before the meeting had started. Knowing his presence alone would draw attention he had arrived wearing a brown cloak with the hood pulled up, hiding most of his face. He spoke to nobody and just blended in with the crowd. He had wanted to see first hand how Sacaens would react to a threat without him there.

His sword alone would not win the battle, his presence would however raise their moral but he knew there will be a time when he was no longer alive to fulfill that role. He had missed out on most of his child's life protecting the plains, he had hoped to guide young Sacaens who lost their way back onto the right path as well as used it as an example. No matter what the threat was, they would depend on each other in their time of need. It had seemed to show true when others had came to his aid against Hargus, but much like then the tribes would spend time in quarrel on how to protect their brothers and sisters. They were united physically, but spiritually they were divided, and that would cause them to fall together physically and spiritually. There was a silence among the tribes, they were still divided. Kenshin, who has been sitting while the others were talking, now rose to his feet and began to walk towards the center pulling back his hood.

His hair which was normally untied, flowing in the wind like the grass they were sitting upon, was tied back in a braided pony tail. Kenshin had began to speak as he made his way towards the center "I had once told an Illian officer that Sacae's greatest strength was the fact we lack some sort of hierarchy that others have. We have no capital to defend, no capital to fall to signal that we had lost the war. Our strength is to truly conqueror our land is to defeat every tribe in battle."

Once Kenshin had made it to the circle, he had began to undo the clasp on his cloak as he set down his bag. When he stood up straight once again he pulled back the cloak and let it hit the ground. He was known to wear red like his crimson hair, but today he was clad in black, the formal attire most Sacaens wore when they honored their dead when they had joined the mother earth. He knew they would think ill of him wearing such things at an event like this. "One thing that was made apparent at my home some months ago, we think too much of ourselves and not our brothers, our sisters, or our cousins.


"A chain is as strong as it's weakest link, but what is a chain if all of the links lay scattered around? If we remain scattered we all will come accustomed to wearing grab much like I am now. When the Wind Tiger tribe had been wiped out many years ago, my cousin and I did not have a chance to dress like this, I do not think I could have brought myself to wear an outfit like this. I had devoted myself to revenge, I had lost my way on the path of life that many Sacaens walk. In a threat such as this, I do not wish such a fate upon any of you but sitting divided such as we are it will happen.

"When my cousin and myself decided to restart our tribe, we had one goal in mind. To create a home for Sacaens without one, as I look around me I see tribes that many of the people who found refuge in mine come from, along with the ones who lost their tribe due to attacks or illnesses. Everybody welcomes those with open arms, and we still will despite of what happens today and the days following. I do not wish to invite them into our home knowing that any of you had fallen in battle too stubborn to take your brother's hand in defiance of those who are not welcome in our home."

Kenshin had reached behind himself, grabbing the ribbon that kept his braided ponytail in place and pulled at it releasing his hair. "I dread the thought of having to put this on." He had began to disrobe by removing his shirt while still talking. "While we sit here claiming we'll take up arms once the battle is on our own doorstep we increase our odds of dressing in that fashion." He had finally removed his shirt, revealing scars across his body from previous battles. "Each one of these scars tells a story, ones that I had helped my brothers and sisters. I expect to be adding more while I lend Selibas my bow, and my sword." Knelling down Kenshin had opened his bag, pulling a red shirt from the top and began to put it on as he stood back up.

"We had shown the world that we are not the same Sacae we were when Bern had invaded. Back then we had received aid from a country, at battle of City of Heroes we received aid from individuals and for the most part we showed them that we can hold a location if pushed to it. Now we will show them that we are to be feared, that they should think twice before they march an army into our homeland. I will not think any different of anybody if they do not join us, but what I will do is ask you to think of your brothers and sisters who falls in battle protecting our home." Kenshin wasted no time once he was talking to gather his belongings that were scattered around his feet before returning to the back of the group where he came.

[Midori]

Midori continued to help and heal the minor wounds of the people. The Chaklai were a strange mix of people. Many of whom were fighters from other countries who abandoned their old lives and swore their duty to the tribe. Many were children of mixed clans. The skills of their warriors varied from axe warriors to spell casters. Midori and the rest of their clan continued to do so while their clan representative went ahead and joined the other's in the war meeting. Their representative was a Sacean sniper. A man of a mixed marriage between one of their chieftains and a Bernese woman. What he inherited from his mother was her light blue hair. What he inherited from his father was the man's tan-ish skin, his dark eyes, and skill with a bow. He wore a simple pair of leather slacks and green shirt. He wore red gloves and carried a plain cloak. After the introduction from the Red Haired, the young man stepped forward.

"Greetings Little Wolf. I am a representative of the Chaklai. Our clan lies to the south, near the borders of the Bern. We have only recently just arrived. We bring to this fight only a few warriors.. but we also bring medicine men and healers. Right now, they are outside these tent walls providing aid to our brothers and sister clans. You have our aid." The blue haired man raised his hand to his chest. He swore his clan in to aid the cause. Afterwards the man returned to his place among the crowd.

[Deleted]

Luca had watched and he had listened in silence. He sat with his spear leaned against his shoulder as though in deep meditation. The tribes were full of brave men and women, many skilled, many far more than himself. They however failed to see what it was they were truly dealing with.

Standing Luca unwrapped his spear and approached the center of the assembly. He hated the stares but he hardened his resolve. "My name is Luca of the Solune tribe. It seems as though I have come alone this day. You know me not and many of you do not trust my tribe but what I have to say is a matter of our success and failure." He looked around as though he could find support. After hearing Kenshin speak what could he really add?

"I am born of Lycia and adopted into the life of a Sacaean. If you feel I have no right to speak, so be it. It matters not. We face annihilation! If anyone of you believes for a second this is merely an assault on Sacae you are d***edable fools! We are targeted as we are expected to be easy!" He wanted to waver and fall silent but he could not.

"I was once an officer in the Lycian military and while I agree we have splendid warriors we do not have the same capabilities. We do not posses the armor or sheer numbers that the formalized militaries do. We do not have the years of mass warfare and stratagems to call upon! We proved our endurance once. But we did not prove ourselves a capable nation. We had the aid of many! We fought raggedy bandits and pirates. This is a real war now and we should not expect reinforcements this time."

He was speaking poorly of their abilities and situation. There must be a way to offer hope and encouragement as well. "We speak of uniting forces and coming together against the enemy. That is only the beginning! We need supplies, resources. Fighting on open plains is not how we will win. Numbers for numbers we will be decimated."

He presented his spear before the crowd. The shaft was rugged for gripping and the metal stained red and carved with runes. "I have bore this since Lycia and it was remade when I became a tribesman. It is light and well suited to fighting, but it lacks the durability of our enemies' blades."

He was going to regret this. Luca raised his spear and with his bare hands snapped the shaft in two with a cracking and snapping. "Coming together is not enough. We must learn to work together too. Accept each other as the Solune accepted me."

"If we fight together it will mean little if the tribes are separate. Combining our forces is the means to victory. We all have specialties and talents. Teach each other and do not horde your secrets. Let go of reservations and meld."

He had one last statement to make and he expected outrage. "The system of tribes will not last the tests of war! Tradition is important to identity but identity is nothing if we are dead. I believe in this cause and will die for it if I am called to. We must become one tribe. The tribe of Sacae!"

He stepped on others' toes and knew it, but he needed to speak his piece. Gathering the pieces of his spear he stepped out of the tent. Only by combining the known methods could they become more. His tribe was agile and quick. Speed was their greatest asset. But if he trained and was offered the knowledge of say the Temulun tribe he could adapt further and interweave to be stronger.

Outside the tent he sighed heavily. He expected he just looked like a fool. Did he add anything of worth? He listened for reactions off to the side.

[Selibas]

The meeting of the Khans had been a test of Selibas' control. His ability to maneuver and control others to be sure, but also his ability to control himself. To not draw steel and show the men in attendance what years traveling Elibe gave you that small tribal skirmishes could not. To keep from twisting his mouth into a scowl at the very sound of a number of khan's voices. To not snap the skinny bastards in half as they called him a boy. Through all of it, he felt he had kept his face in check, showing the bare minimum as men insulted him, and the dream he was so close to realizing. He'd not yelled down at any of the self-righteous old men that claimed their heritage was more important than their future. His face was nearly blank in the calm, while the tides of anger rolled inside his mind.

His face grew pale and his eyes wide, the tides becoming typhoons as a god pulled back his hood. The red hair, the scar, there was no mistake. It was not a god, it was a Demon. Sacae's Crimson Demon. Mere seconds before, nearly every warrior in the circle would have convinced themselves they were the greatest fighter at the gathering. Not anymore. Every back straightened, as men two or three times the age of the red haired killer attempted to present themselves at their most honorable. Even the Djute envoy and the Lorca Khan affected a more noble carriage. The Demon did not introduce himself, that would have been a waste of words. At first, it sounded as if he were going to speak against Selibas, which might have been a death sentence for even one tribe joining his defense. However, he quickly spoke of brotherhood between Sacaens.

Then, he said his name. Kenshin the Crimson Demon said his name. A bastard child of a murderer, who had been a curse on his tribe as a child and a dirty sellsword in his youth, and the hero of the plains had just said his name. He'd promised his bow and his sword, to him. Selibas Noname, Selibas Cinderfelt, or Selibas Sacae. The man bearing the name had never expected that he'd hear it from the subject of nearly every story he listened to at the fires as a child. He was on his side. The Sacaen who had made an impact the world could never forget stood in front of the people of his nation, and spoke the name of an upstart boy. The little wolf's heart had never beat so fast, it felt as if it must be showing outside of his chest. This was unreal, this was something he'd never imagined.

He calmed himself, trying to regulate his breathing and get his heart under control. It didn't work. However, when Kenshin left the cricle, Selibas forced himself to avoid staring at him. With his face still pale, he listened to the pledging of another tribe and the speech of a Lycian representative. Healers and a mind for war with foreigners. Good things, important things, definitely something that Selibas could prioritize because there wasn't another massive force shoving itself over his conscience. Naran-Org rose then, and he stepped forward.

"I came today with my mind made open. From what I had heard, it had not been made yet, and I planned to speak that I would wait and see. However, the Lorca remember, and the Lorca respect. If Kenshin will stand for this, I am on my feet beside. The saddle of the Lorca is always ready to bear its warrior, and together we shall ride." No sooner had he turned to take his seat had the delegate from the Djute risen. He spoke with a low but clear voice.

"I speak today for Tsugarjad of the Djute. He had instructed me in what to do and say before I arrived, and I am happy to say that what he had wished me to hear has come to pass. And then some. The Djute are under attack from a force that rides like Sacaens in southern and western armor. Their numbers only grow, and tribes that have fallen to the priests of Elimine have joined their ranks. Before the calling of this meeting, men under Selibas came to us to discuss an alliance much like this one to aid the Kutolah. We didn't accept, we merely laughed. Then, one of our war parties fell under an attack from a Pale Rider. The men of Selibas' people could have left the battle, but only one did, as a messenger. They drew lots to see which man had to go. The others fought to the death. We lost the battle. The Djute have sent me not to offer our swords, but to ask for them. My Khan has cast pride aside in favor of saving his people and Sacae as a whole. I plead, please give your swords to this cause, or the Djute will not survive." From a bag at his waist, the messenger produced a cloth sack. He walked over to Selibas, and said, "A gift." He returned to his seat.

Selibas quietely opened the sack just enough to see it. It was mass of shards of a sword that should have been unbreakable. He'd have some questions for this messenger, but now was not the time. A few more tribes offered themselves, and it filled Selibas with a vigor. For the first time at the meet, he grinned. He walked into the circle. His mind racing with who should fight where. "Sacae is strong. With the swords and the bows offered, it will remain so. I have decided, who is to go where. Those who came here of the Amasi, the Qazvin, the Fruchili, the Solune, the Cathecassa, the Baarin, and the Sama will ride to the East to aid our brothers the Djute. The Miagani, the Temulun, the Gula, the Chaklai, the Juyin and anyone else, will come with me to kill the pirate beside the Kutolah. I will have words with each speaker on the structure of command." He expected resistance, but there was none at the moment. He had called them here, he had experience fighting foreigners, he appeared to be a competent commander. "In a few hours, preperations will begin for a feast, tomorrow we will begin preparations for the march. If you need me, you will know where to find me. For Sacae." He didn't move, he'd be the last one here, in case any had a grevance or a question to air at just this moment.