Birth of the Tempest [Defense]

[Duma]

Duma stood by the Matriarch's side as the last of the clans swore their alliance and oaths to Selibus. He watched as the one who was known as the Crimson Demon spoke his peace about chains and scars. Duma saw this as a wise move. He knew rumors of the Crimson Demon of the plains and how he founded the City of Heroes. He had heard galvanized stories about the man's exploits. And yet here he stood a supposed man of legend.. a man of divinity and monsters... Duma watched each of the scars on that man's body. The Crimson Demon was just as human as everyone else in the room. A man of that much respect and infamy... one whom he was certain would take the reigns of this meeting away from the little wolf.. had instead swore his allegiance to him. Duma thought this a surprising but wise move.

The other man who spoke after the Crimson Demon.. was the same person he had spoken to before. Luca from the Solune. The man's words were different. Duma knew that his speech would disturb some of the more traditional tribes. But Luca spoke true, Sacae's unification would be needed in order to survive the war. In order to survive the test of time. Duma saw him head out of the tent but he had a sneaking suspicion that he was lingering around the borders listening in.

And then Selibus spoke once more. The little wolf had divided the tribes into two groups one that would go to aid Sacae in the east, and the other to take down an Eturian leader with the Kutloah wherever he was. So.. I am to head east then. Duma glanced at the Qazvin matriarch and she looked back at him with a small smile. Slowly, but surely the groups started to move away from the meeting area and prepare for the feast. The Qazvin returned to their area of tents and prepared for both the feast and for their deployment.

[Selibas]

It was not long before the area had cleared, and all that were left in the once full circle was Selibas and his men. Out from under the watchful eyes of the amassed khans, Selibas turned and stalked out of the circle, with all of his men following just behind him. Not stopping to speak with any of the passing faces, the khans short legs sped him to his tent. No more than five quick seconds inside the ger and Selibas slumped against his cot and began to weep. Once more he unwrapped the package handed to him from the Djute, and saw the last thing he'd ever receive from his teacher. In the wrapping was a collection of yellow shards from his mentor Chlane's sword Croceamors. Selibas wasn't surprised to see that the hilt wasn't there, from what he had heard, it would have been impossible to separate it from Chlane's hand. Besides, the old man would probably wanted to be buried with his sword in his hand, and that was the best he could get. Holding his head in his hands, heavy tears rolled down his cheeks and rested in his beard. Sitting in the grass back against the cot, the little wolf felt the smallest he ever had.

The first time he'd met Chlane, the old man had told him why he wasn't fit to hold a sword, and had made him do a hundred push ups just to see how many Selibas would do without giving up. Soon after he had become Selibas' instructor with the sword, and for months provided the young man with food and shelter. It was Chlane who first gave Selibas the nickname that had become well known in certain corners of Elibe, The Little Wolf. The Ilian swordsman had stood by the green haired youth as he'd become a mercenary in his own right, as well as Khan. He had watched over the green haired Sacaen's people for a long time, and because of Selibas' dream he was gone, like the family he'd had back in Ilia before Hargus. Now a man who'd been a Hero to so many was dead, his only legacy this broken sword and his last surviving student. The student stood, and placed the fragments of his first true friend's life onto his cot. Turning away from them and wiping his face free of tears, he let out a small chuckle thinking of how critical the old man would be to see Selibas crying over such an obvious thing as death.

Selibas exited his ger, took his sword of light from Coke, who had somehow gotten lost on his way back to the meeting and only just gotten back to the khan's tent, and made his way over to the Chaklai encampment. It was not the first place he wanted to go. The first place he wanted to go was wherever the Crimson Demon was so that he could ask him a thousand questions or simply look at the man. However, that wouldn't look like the move of a strong leader, and as his guard fell in behind him he was reminded of the importance of his appearance here. The Chaklai were not hard to find, they were incredibly unique amongst the Sacaens, unlike the other tribes in so many ways. In their faces, Selibas felt he looked at himself, someone who was almost an outsider but chose not to be. Among them, Selibas didn't feel like his mixed up heritage was an issue, that it didn't make him any less Sacaen for having a father from Bern. He quite liked it. Having kept the face and appearance of their leader in mind, Selibas quickly found him amidst his people. He was situated near a tent where many had gone to be healed, and the green haired khan merely approached him and gave a slight tip of his head. "I greet you. I wanted to talk to you about my decision to send the Chaklai West." His voice wasn't as dramatic as before, and neither was his prose. One on one Selibas like to speak like a normal person.

"At the meeting you had said that you brought few warriors, so I thought that you were owed an explanation of why you'd be sent to where the fighting was thickest. Blatantly put, your capacity to heal and care for our troops is substantially larger than any other tribe that has come to join us. The Western group will be facing a force that includes many varied Etrurian threats. If my guess is right, they will have a capacity for magic that we simply don't. For that reason we will need your healers there, where we don't know what to expect. If what we get is the best case scenario, and we clash with steel, fantastic your people can heal cuts and scrapes just as well. If it's the worst case scenario, our strategy will have to adapt and sadly that takes time. We'll need healers for that time." Selibas took a quick breath before starting again, and when he did two young children, a boy and a girl, rushed up to him and jumped up on him laughing.

For a moment, the little wolf tried to keep himself serious, but he couldn't. He let out a deep laugh, his face brightening into a wide grin as the children clung to his arms. For once his being short was a good thing, the kids might have missed the arms of a taller man and fallen. "Please, let me have my arms back, I can't swing my sword without them." The little boy slid to the ground but the girl clung to him and whispered, "I'll only let go if your promise to use your sword to protect my daddy." Selibas leaned his head closer to her and whispered, "What's his name?" The girl answered, "Taghai Juyin." Selibas smiled and whispered, "Your father is in the army riding with me, I promise to protect him." The girl simply nodded and slid down, then her and the boy ran off. Still grinning, Selibas watched as they ran away, the two of them running past a pretty young woman with pink hair.

Selibas had been hit with arrows before. He had taken a spell in the shape of a lightning bolt before. He had never been struck like this. Looking at her, it was as if he saw everything in the world. He felt at once like he couldn't move and that he could run around the world. It took all of his willpower just to tear his eyes away from her. "Well, umm... I'm sorry, I've completely forgotten what I was going to say."

---

After finishing his talk with the Chaklai, feeling... shaken, Selibas made his way to the camp of the Amasi. Once there, he requested to be taken to Khan Yahari, and gave the man a nod of his head out of respect. He spoke, not stoically but formally as befit an elder, "I greet you. Words do not begin to describe the gratitude I have for you. If you had not spoken, who knows how fewer clans would now ride with us. I have heard of the Amasi skill with the blade, and I believe it will be of great use breaking the invasion to the East."

[Midori]

There were a small group of Chaklai standing about the medic tent. Several of them running around with items to be delivered to the other tribes. Some were running around with baskets of laundry to be done. Others with plates of food. Many seemed to walk around the Little wolf pre-occupied with their day to day activities. However, it wasn’t until Sky, their representative got up and greeted Selibus that a majority of them stopped to gather around.

“Greetings Little Wolf. Welcome to the Chaklai camp.” The blue haired sniper spoke in the same voice he would greet an old friend. As far as he was concerned Selibus was family or rather an honorary tribesman of the Chaklai. Selibus spoke over his concerns regarding the Chaklai heading west into the fray with Eturia. While this did not bother Skai the sniper,personally he did understand why it would raise some concern for the other members of the tribe. However, before riding out of their home territory close to Bern the entirety of them had already decided to live, breathe, and die for Sacae.

“That is true. Our clan offers little in the way of warriors. Unlike, the other tribes our culture has focused more on tending to the land and it’s people. Our first leader was a holy man who wished to see a world united in harmony between human, nature, and spirit. It is why we welcome people into our clan, regardless of their nation of birth. Little Wolf we believe in you.. and in this unification between the tribes. We as a whole see it as a crucial step.. into the overall well being of Sacae.. but also a step into seeing our first leader’s dream a reality. And If other tribes see us as strange for that then so be it.. but it will not stop us from healing their wounds. It will not stop us from riding out with them and covering their backs.”

“For the people!” One man shouted from the back of the crowd. This rallied some of the others to chant.

“For Sacae!”

“For the future!” The sniper closed his eyes as that last chant happened to be very close to his ears. But he raised an arm up and the others seemed to quiet down. That didn’t stop two children from running around and being cute towards the little wolf. This gave the sniper a moment to quiet down and slowly disband the group. When he returned to speak with the little wolf he seemed to be slightly dumbfounded. This made Skai blush a bit, he was not expecting the little wolf to be so moved by the Chaklai’s small gesture of pride. At least that’s what he thought, he had no idea the little wolf was actually staring at one of the healers roaming around.

"Well, umm... I'm sorry, I've completely forgotten what I was going to say." Selibus spoke. Skai had a soft smile on his face.

“Do not worry for us.” He put his hand on Selibus’ shoulder to reassure him.

“Most of our combat unit are seasoned fighters from various territories across Elibe. Fighter’s trained to defend our healers while they are out healing others. The Chaklai have sworn our allegiance to you Little Wolf, we ride where you tell us regardless of the dangers.”


------
Midori was busy working around the camps providing aid towards the various tribes that accepted them. Sometime during the great meeting between tribes, the healers were called in to help with the delivery of a child. A task normally reserved for the women of that specific tribe but due to circumstances the Chaklai were called in instead. Midori and her mentor a Valkyrie by the name of Lucy were brought into the tent to aid with the delivery. After few hours of labor pains a healthy baby boy was born to the tribe, but the new mother was weak. She was in a poor condition before the labor started and it only worsened as the delivery progressed.

The Chaklai would do everything that they could in order to save the life of the woman. Lady Lucy would stay with the mother until she recovered while Midori went out to fetch the items she needed. By now it seemed that the great meeting was over and the mess tent was soon flooded with other Chaklai. The Chaklai who had been at the meeting, listening as the tribes debated among themselves whether or not to go into battle. Word was spreading that the Chaklai along with several other tribes would ride west directly towards the front lines. She could hear chanting outside. Midori wished to stay and listen to all the gossip but she had a task to do.

She headed out of the Chaklai mess tent with a tray that had two plates of food. A soft meal of cooked oats, with a little bit of a fruit jam smeared on top, and two mugs of tea. She was walking very carefully towards her destination, a tent of blue fabric and red trimmings. Two children darted past her as she made her way across the Chaklai encampment. Midori had to raise the tray up over carefully so as to avoid the children bowling over her.

“Careful with your running!” She shouted. She slowly lowered the tray back down and continued on her way. Eventually, reaching the correct blue and red tent and delivering the meal. Midori watched as Lady Lucy’s staff glowed in a soft light towards the woman. While she was still very pale but she seemed to be in a better condition then she was earlier. She was sitting upright and nursing her newborn. Granted, she was being helped by her husband, a young archer who was sitting behind her. An act Midori thought was sweet. Midori sat down close to Lady Lucy and whispered the news towards the Valkyrie. The Chaklai are riding west. Towards the fray. Lady Lucy nodded softly and whispered back. Very well. Go ensure our horses are fit to ride for tomorrow. And restock our bags of medical supplies. Then she dismissed Midori from the tent.

[Yaen]

Selibas was lead to the Khan's ger, and was greeted by the four Keshig who stood guard outside. Each gave him a bow of respect, stepping aside to grant him entrance. Within, the khan sat close to the central fire, a cup in hand, softly speaking to a woman much younger, though clearly bearing a familial resemblance to the old Khan. Khan Yahari gave the young Khan a returning nod, before beckoning him to sit near the fire. As the young woman stood, he held up a hand. "Khan Selibas and I must speak in private. We shall pour our own drinks. Return to your father, dear child."

The young girl quietly bowed before quickly retreating, causing the old Khan to chuckle. "My grand daughter. She is very shy, as most girls are at her age. But she listens well, and learns fast. My son has produced a fine heir to carry on the spirit of our Ancestors." He explained as he poured a second cup of tea and offered it to the younger Khan. "You do not need to address me so formally. We are brothers now, you and I. Sworn by sword and by blood. My home is your home, be comfortable and let us talk as friends." Yahari urged with a wizened smile. "You handled yourself very well. I can imagine the anger you must have felt, and I assure you, even many who opposed you were displeased by how those who call themselves Khan would so blatantly mock their host, and it made them think more on their own position. Their own foolishness was their undoing. I simply helped to push things along." The Khan assured him. "But regardless of who chooses to stand with us, the Amasi shall stand with you. I trust that what you have heard of my people's skill shall be proven to be greatly understated."

[Genkumaru]

The day raged on. Riding across the plains was never Gens favorite, but it had to be done. His tribe lived near the center of Sacae, so it was easy for them to amass at the meeting point. Roughly eighty adults and thirty children had come with their recently returned chieftain to this moot and all of them hoped for unity and strength to be born from it, but Gen was not so certain of said outcome. Sacean's were hard headed, stubborn to a fault, when it came to following traditions. Knowing this however Gen hoped for the best. After making camp, Gen sought out one of his old friends emissaries, which wasn't hard to do once he asked for directions to The little wolfs camp.

A stout man had pointed him to a small group of message runners, common in war camps, to which Gen thanked him and walked towards the group. "Can one of you deliver a message to Selibas for me? Tell him... Genkumaru Kaelas, Khan of the waterfalls, is here to answer his call.", Gen pointed over to where his people were setting up their yurts and pens, "That is where I will be.", not waiting for a response, as to showcase having even a semblance of importance, Gen strode off back to his people.

The Kaelas were a mysterious bunch, champion riders and bowman, they held their own in the past against invaders and brigands. Isolationism was their goal, but Gen could not and would not accept that. If it hadn't been for his father, most of his tribesman probably would not follow Gen and his ambitions, but they believed in Genmaru Kaelas, and so his son Genkumaru would receive the same trust. All of his people had come; the next generation included. They brought with them both hardened men, a moderate supply of vulnery and other medical herbs, and lastly their entire food stores, meant to last well into the next year; this comprised of grain mostly, but anything was helpful, and Gen knew that.

When he reached his yurt, identifiable by its more regal tones and slightly larger size, he entered it and quickly bee lined for the day bed overlooking its meeting circle, flopping into it gracefully. He was exhausted from the ride back to Sacae, and here. Horsemanship was not his strong suite, an extremely bad weakness to have if you were Sacean. He hoped his father's name still carried weight with the other clans, as he knew he himself had been gone for too long to claim any right to importance.

While waiting for Selibas to come, or a messengers of his, Gen drew his katana, Genji, from its sheathe and began polishing it. Treating the hilt and sharpening its blade as well. His yurt was adorned in the typical fashion for a Sacean Khan, slight adornments yet practical as well. His personal additive however was a very elegant recurve bow set into the very top of the daybeds back board. This bow was named Sunstrider, and was Kaelas's when he rode with his siblings and mother, Hanon. Above Sunstrider, was Harbinger, a katana of regal design, given to Gen's father from a traveling merchant, for saving his caravan from brigands. It's black fading to red fire motiff scabbard and hilt, showcased a certain air of beauty only to be accented by its golden guard. A shame neither have been used since Genmaru passed, and Genkumaru became Khan.

[Midori]

Later in the day

Midori made her way out of the stables, still in her ranch clothes. In her hands were the rest of her priestess garb as well as a third shirt. She had done what she had set out to do. The horses were groomed and the supplies were in order. However, she had not expected to have been helped with her chores by Grand Khan Selibus himself. The whole ordeal forced the young priestess to be on her best behavior. She had to in order to maintain the well image of the tribe. The added pressures of all that courtesy wore on the healer's nerves. Skies above.. My heart is still racing. The encounter with the Grand Khan wasn't bad though. Part of her wondered if they would ever share a moment like that again. She shook her head. No. The war will be upon us soon. We.. might be dead in the first battle. The thought of being a corpse upon the plains sent a chill down her spine.

It hadn't hit her until right now. The fact that they were going to war. She knew of war through the scripture. She had seen war raging across the plains due to the struggles between Ilia and Bern. She had helped to heal the straggler's of war. But she herself had never been in a war. She'd barely been in a battle. She was usually healing to those who had already done the fighting. She was usually always behind Lady Lucy while she did the fighting. She kept walking out towards the wash tent. A plain unassuming tent within the outer edges of the Chaklai encampment. The wash tent was used to wash both people and clothes. Midori entered the women's side of the tent. Inside were women of various ages either washing laundry or washing bodies. Midori pulled up a stool, grabbed a washtub, and filled a bucket of water. She went ahead and scrubbed her clothes clean. The priestess herself was the next thing to be washed. As she cleansed her body she recited a series of prayers. Prayers for safety, prayers of purity, prayers of wellness, among other things. With that out of the way she changed into a set of dry clothes. A patchy old shirt that once belonged to Lady Lucy and pants. Those who knew her knew of this shirt. Midori was always seen wearing it after a bath. She tied her hair up with a ribbon. Took her washed clothes and retired to her tent.

There was a low grumble coming from her stomach. Once, again she had become so engrossed in her day to day activities that she had forgotten to eat. Fortunately, one of her roommates agreed to head out to the mess tent and grab her a plate of food.

[Midori retires/exits from thread.]

[Selibas]

Selibas took his cup of tea with a nod. He'd never liked tea himself, but it would have been rude to simply refuse the man in his own ger. He took a large gulp of the drink as sipping would only prolong the taste. As he listened to the man, a slow smile spread across his face. The old man must have been able to see as the emotion had crept over the younger Khan's face. After he had spoken, Selibas stood, and spoke, "Thank you, your words mean much. I can alwys appreciate people who push things along. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go speak with a few more Khans." Selibas gave a slight bow then exited the ger. Not long and he was out of the Amasi camp all together.

As he walked, a runner came up behind him. As Selibas turned, and the man was stopped and questioned by Dale, Selibas realized that the man was Tsetsar, a young horsemen who'd been Aurumiaf years ago. With a smile, the Little Wolf thought that now he was a Sacaen. The runner was allowed to approach him, and said, "My Khan, a tribe has only just arrived and their Khan has asked to speak with you. They are the Kaelas, and their Khan is Genkamura." Selibas knit his eyebrows. Those names were familiar, moreso than if he had only heard them before. He'd have to meet the man and see the tribe. "Thank you for telling me, I have no message for you to return to him." When Dale gave his Khan a look, Selibas said, "I'll not keep those who arrived early waiting."

Out of the Amasi, but into one of the camps he was perhaps less than excited to be in. If there was anywhere he'd be expected to arm wrestle or get in a screaming match before he could even discuss anything important it would be this one. Still, it had to be done. He asked to be led to Altani, the woman who had spoken for the tribe at the meet. The young Khan believed that she was only a speaker for the tribe but he could have been mistaken. He felt Dale bristling behind him under the eyes of the Temulun, but knew that his cousin could hold himself back. When the Little Wolf was brought before Altani he spoke quickly, "Greetings Altani Temulun, I come here to thank you for your words at the meeting. Yours is a fierce voice and a fierce clan." Selibas took a moment before essentially changing the subject, "If my estimation of your people is correct you bring a large infantry. That is why I have chosen to bring you with me. Our horse is our advantage to be sure, but against a foe like Etruria we must have good people on the ground."

[Altani]

Like the unyielding heat of an angry sun amidst summer's wrath her blood boiled within her veins. She herself was partially surprised that it didn't scorch through her skin at any moment, nor tint her skin to an angry reddish shade. Her color and complexion remained surprisingly pale. The moment she'd left the meet, admittedly, she'd struck a path for her tent. With either cousin flanking her, she strode through the web-way of bed rolls and tents to find her own. Not to seek refuge however. No. Only one thing could alleviate this itch that burned beneath her skin. Combat. Many within the Temulun knew it well. When the mind was sharp with anger, it was the greatest time to enhance one's prowess.

It was in this time that Altani opted to fall back upon her tradition of eld. Gazing to either of her cousins quietly, Altani knew the mutual understanding between them. It was after all, their favorite pastime. The moments it took to create the sparing circle served to cleanse all distraction. All outside influence whited out so that they could prepare. The distant ringing cries of metal and metal clashing was an easy sign that spars took place through out the entire Temulun camp. After all, it was the easiest way to tell that it was their camp one stood within; the ringing clangs of combat and the shouts and grunts of struggle as many pit themselves against equals or betters to test their furthest limits.

Some Temulun gathered around this sparing circle, recognizing all to well the meaning of the spears that Altani and her cousins began to stab into the ground within a circular fashion; a fifteen yard ring of space within it total. Enough space to dance to the chorus of cascading strikes and nimbly evade or weave through swiping strikes. With the final spear being inserted into the soft sacaen soil, Altani spun on her heel to stand with her back to that precise spear. The twin spears resting fastened to her back were practically resonating with the same gratuitous amounts of anticipation that she herself felt. It was instinctive. The blood through her veins embraced trial and strife as happily as a child embraced their parents after a hunting trip.

Fingers grasped to the weapons at her back as she flourished them to her sides. Both males opposing her drew their own blades. Each of the three wielding twin weapons. Altani crouched slowly, spreading her legs slowly to widen her stance while leaning forwards. One spear ran width of her figure from side to side along her waist; her hand lifted with the other one pointing behind her and both arms ready to strike. Of her two cousins the more aggressive of the two, Rei, moved to strike first. He crossed the gap between himself and her in what felt like a mere breaths worth of effort. His blades flashed with the glint of afternoon sun bouncing from metal face to Altani's gaze, forcing her to avert her eyes as she lunged forwards. She ducked downwards and slipped to the right as the pair of blades carved through the air beside her. Long silken strands of verdite shaded hair followed her with a brief delay, a few idle unfortunate strands suffering as the twin sacaen blades narrowly extracted them. The few hairs drifted to the ground, hitting the grassy sacaen bed as Altani twirled to counter-attack.

Her left spear shaft met with the side of her cousins hip as she swept the other one towards his right arm. A thawking sound cracked out when his blade raised its edge out to hinder her weapons progress. Both would've locked into a struggle were it not for the intervention of the third cousin. With each of his blades sweeping forwards to intercept both lance and blade locks, the trio briefly leaned into one another attempting to best the other; the three way deadlock gaining no momentum in any one combatant's favor. Ultimately, Altani broke the lock first as she hopped backwards. As she leapt back though, her younger cousin who she'd initially clashed with kept the pressure to her with a blade gracefully sweeping through the air in an arc inches from her chin. Dipping to the side she knelt onto one knee and spun one of her lances over her head in a wide arc, catching his hip and forcing him to the right and into her other cousin. The later was quick to respond with his body dancing in a semi-circle while his blades flourished so that both had formed a lock around her outer spear tip. His backwards lurch threatened to remove the weapon from her grasp, but the obsidian clad Lancer was not one to yield so easily. Her wrist twisted as she gripped the shaft tightly and pulled herself hard. His braced resistance was enough to keep her moving forwards and himself afoot, but not enough to ready himself as she relied on her lithe frame to present a difficult target and lowered herself.

Altani's leg whipped out as she practically folded herself to press against the ground, kicking out the older yeoman's leg and forcing him to the ground. His blades still clashed to her spear, but with his momentum uprooted he was far less imposing upon her mobility; even less so as she rolled past him to free her spear and halt the tip when it softly pressed inwards to his throat. Her sly grin foretold the smug tone. "Dead."

She however, was not able to rest for as she finished the phrase there was the smallest of gusts behind her. She barely had time to side step and stab one of her weapons into the ground to shield herself with its shaft before the twin blades of the swordmaster came sweeping for her. The thwacking of the blades impacting it was the only indication she'd received of a halted threat before he was on her again. This time as she rolled again, the emerald haired woman was pressed to a defensive. Each side-step and roll brought them closer to the opposing side of the ring and her hair seemed to trail her motions with ghostly imitation as she slowly regained her momentum. Swing after swing. Blow after blow. She fought for every inch while she was pushed back, feverishly searching for the opening she'd need. When it finally presented itself, at a point as his blades both raised upwards, she struck with ferocity only known to the Temulun. Both spears were sent skywards, before she coiled her arms and locked his wrists. Pressing herself against him and shifting her weight she pressed his arms upwards to disarm her cousin before rolling and slacking the grip of one of her spears so as not to accidentally impale either of them.

His brown swordsman coat flailed wildly in the air as the male was flipped through the air onto his back and landed with a rough thud, lifting his head from a stupor induced by concussive force to find a speartip gently resting to his chin. Altani grinned once more before stabbing her spears into the ground and offering a hand to this bested cousin.

"It was a good duel..but my blood was aflame, and my resolve enhanced by shackles of fury. I could not lose it."

At this moment, she noticed another of verdite hair. Selibas. The one who'd called for the great tribes and spoke of bonds not spoken of in many years. Hmmmm... He'd been talking to her while she sparred..hadn't he? He was looking at her, as if he'd just spoken at-least.

He then began to speak again however. Of her peoples prowess on the ground. Their fighting skill. So they were to meet their enemies first were they? Excellent. Before answering to Selibas, Altani shouted out loudly in the native tongue of her people; one even few other Sacaens understood. Her voice aflame with war like passion and a burning tone of command. "Hettir! Hettir a'den cuyir! Oyan, parjir, narir hukaatir Sacae!"

With each word, more and more of the Temulun seemed to appear. Until by the end, her words were met with a thunderous shout as she lifted her twin spears upwards into the air. Her next phrase was mimicked with the cries rippling like thunderous waves of the ocean breaking with the fury of the highest tide.

"Parjir! Ijaa' Temulun! Ijaa Sacae! IJAA!!"

With the chanting, howling, roaring sacaens beginning to draw more, the temulun warriors all broke into the only form of celebration they knew. Sparing.

Dozens of bouts seemed to break out mere moments later as they moved to more open spaces and started taking varied stances and forms. However she had another to speak to. With both cousins sheathing their weapons and slowly removing the spears from the ground and putting them back into the cylindrical containers they'd been in initially, Altani turned her gaze to Selibas. She spoke in a strong tone while she recovered her breath, panting both from the exertions of the fight and the speech a moment earlier that'd fired her up.

"You bring glorious news, Selibas. We could have expected no other role. We eagerly await to meet them in battle, these creatures that claim to be human."

[Duma]

Qazvin Base

Duma watched as the members of the tribe went about their business. The women went about preparing food. Some hunters managed to scour the wildness nearby and bring back fresh game. No one was really sure how much food would be divided out in this great feast, but at least the Qazvin tribe would be well fed tonight. Duma sat among them in a small corner of the tribe. He was just watching. He was neither Qazvin or of any other tribe by birth. In theory he was closer to Eturian by family rather than Sacean and that thought put him in a somber mood. He knew fully what he was getting himself into when he agreed to lend his sword to the Sacean cause, but it was now, in this quiet moment did he realize the gravity of the situation. This war would inevitably put him at odds with his family. He might meet them in battle. He might see them die. He might see them kill others. This thinking manifested in his appearance to the point where the matriarch had sat herself down next to him and spoke.

“Duma… You have that look about you. That scowling face at the world… Tell me child. Why do you stare at the earth with such disgust.” She spoke softly. Her two sons were nearby helping the others while their mother spoke.

Duma turned his head and relaxed.

“It's.. not the earth I am mad about Grand Matriarch. I.. am simply thinking. Unpleasant thoughts… I realize this war will put.. me.. us.. against my family.” He shook his head.

“Go on..” She continued.

“A family that loved me.” He sighed.

“I have become aware… That this.. that there will be people who will recognize me. My scar… It’s something I've had since I was a child. People will see it.. people will talk.. even if the war spares my family physically… I fear the repercussions of talking. Some words in Eturia are a death sentence.. with or without reason.” He kept his gaze out towards the others camp, not really focusing on one particular thing or person.

“Child.. do you regret those actions? Leaving them behind?” She asked while sipping on a warm mug of tea.

“I do not know. I cannot shake off this feeling of.. uncertainty. It seems all I do is give my family grief. I.. think that is why I distance myself.. I keep moving..” He paused.

“Grand Matriarch may I ask something?” He turned to face her.

“Child you just did. But you may ask another.” She spoke whimsically.

“When.. the clan found me in the grasslands.. all those years ago.. when I was lost, confused, and full of grief.. what.. prompted you to help me? To.. take me in.. and teach me the way of the plains?”

“You were such a scared and scrawny young man. You knew little in the way of the plains. But.. you.. bore an interesting brand on your face. One that tells the world you are not one to fall and die so easily. The sky father and earth mother crossed our paths together for a reason Duma. What that reason is.. I do not know. And there exists a possibility that I will never know. But I do not regret the choice.” She smiled softly at the swordsman.

Duma was silent. The matriarch finished her tea and got up. She patted the young swordsman on the shoulder and walked off. It was a while before Duma got up and went to the training grounds to practice his sword strokes. Clear your mind. Focus on the blade. And swing. The veteran swordsman continued to practice his craft until nightfall. With nothing left him he retired to his tent for the night.

[Exit thread]

[Kenshin]

As Kenshin spoke, he saw a sea of faces that he reconized but one had stuck out more than the rest. The one that stuck in his mind was that of his former 'pupil'. He had helped the young swordsman in the very basics of sword play before adbandoning him. Years later the two had ran into each other and had a duel, to close loose ends. Kenshin had watched him fight in the arena before all hell had broke loose, while he did seem like he improved in some areas it did also appear that he had grown worse in others, now would a good time to test him, and not just him but Kenshin as well. He needed somebody hee knew he could trust not to hold back do to Kenshin's fame.

As he wondered the Sacaen settlement looking for him, there was a whisper in his ear. "Draw from my power and cut the boy down, you know dueling isn't your style. A fight to the death is the only thing you know." Kenshin gritted his teeth, what Amanojaku had said was true, now wasn't the time nor the place to be fighting a fellow Sacaen to the death. He quickly dismissed the thougt.

He finally found the man he had been looking for, he had been sitting around drinking a cup of tea. Kenshin walked around him from behind, stopping directly in front of him. "It's been a while since we saw each other. Other than the breif moment before the tournament I recall the last time we actually talked we had fought. What would you say to a rematch Yaen?"

[Yaen]

Yaen sat outside the family ger with his mother, quietly savouring a cup of brick tea and mare's milk. All was peaceful, save for the loud chanting and cries of combat coming from the Temulun camp just next door. "They certainly are a lively tribe." His mother commented. "I wonder if they will be joining our swords to the east."

He considered it for a moment as he lifted his cup again. Word had spread fast of Khan Selibas' words to Khan Yahari. "Possibly. The Temulun have a strong warrior tradition, do they not? They may be sent to the west. The Khans will need swords and spears to supplement their horsemen."

"Yes, that is true. Perhaps you should cross camps. Maybe you'll find a Temulun woman willing to dance blades."

Yaen glanced sidelong at her, before taking another sip. "I don't think this is the best time." He knew this would happen. It was only natural. After all, he was twenty seven and still unmarried. It was only a matter of time before his mother started speaking of finding a woman, having children, becoming patriarch of the family...

But Yaen wasn't sure if he wanted any of that.

Perhaps it was fate or fortune that a familiar face approached him before the conversation could go any further. Yaen looked up at the red haired man, then turned his cup upwards to finish off his drink. "You see, Mother? I do not need to go seeking someone to dance blades with. A dance has come to me." Clasping his swords, he stood and stuck them into his sash. "There is a clear circle in the center of the encampment - That is where my people participate in the Dance of Blades. Come with me."

[Selibas]

The Temulun were... loud. Very loud, as if every man woman and child in their camp had too sout every word they said at once or the world wouldn't be able to hear it. Still, they were fierce in battle, and Selibas could think of a number of ways to put their might to good use. For now, he simply said, "Yes okay well, I'm sure you'll be ready when you do meet them." Then the young Khan turned smartly and walked away from the camp. He would whisper with the next Khan or speaker he met, and hope that they would follow suit.

Back he was, to walking between the gers, flanked now by Kaichun and Khasar. He had no clue which clan or tribe to stop by next, and figured now would be as good a time as any to stop by the Lorca, and so the short Khan made his way over to the largest collection of gers on the whole meeting ground, ready to exchange words with who he thought may be his most reluctant ally.

As the Little Wolf made his way through the sea, he heard whispers of a duel. That wasn't unexpected, this many warriors around each other, spirits could grow high and many could get cabin fever surrounded on every side by other men and women. So he thought nothing of it, and simply kept on moving forward. However, he happened to come across the contest, and realized that he would not be able to pass up watching. The duel would be between a young man of the Amasi, and the Crimson Demon himself.

[Kenshin]

As the two moved to the location that Yaen had spoke of, Kenshin had been trying to decide which sword he would use. The reforged Regal Blade that he had received during the siege upon his home, or his Wo Dao which now housed the sinister wind spirit Amanojaku.

"The last time we had fought, your swordsmanship had shown great growth but in Bern? I question that. I was once your mentor in the way of the blade many years ago, even though it was a very brief time. Since then I had rejected many seeking to be trained by the fabled Crimson Demon, being the only thing that could be called as a student of mine, this is a great chance to track your progress once again as well as to see if I'm fully ready for the upcoming battle.

"Draw blood if you must, not that I care, the only request I have is to hold back any killing blows or ones that would prove to be fatal. That's only if you can." Kenshin grabbed the Regal Blade's sheath near the guard and pulled it from his belt, he set the blade on the ground near the edge of the circle. The extra blade would only add extra weight as well as get in the way.

If Kenshin recalled, in Bern Yaen had been aggressive in his fights giving no quarter to his foe. If this wasn't a friendly duel, Kenshin would prepare himself in a Battojutsu stance, but it was one that was meant to kill. Kenshin had spread his legs a bit, with most of his weight on his right foot which was behind him. He raised his sword above his head, keeping it close pointing it away from Yaen's direction.

[Selibas]

The short Khan watched as the legend slid into his stance, noting the ease at which Kenshin was able to shift into his fighting form. His style was one that seemed familiar, but different from that of most Sacaens. Most of the tribes bore similarities to the others, with a general focus on speed and skill with, and a philosophy of movements more fitting for a ballroom dance than a tavern brawl, or a more brutal battlefield. It was a style of grace and calm, there was no space for rage in it, and the Little Wolf didn't know how someone was meant to fight without allowing their anger rising to a boiling point. But he would learn.

Perhaps watching this duel would be a good stepping stone towards learning something of Sacaen Swordplay. If he could glean steps or motions from anyone, certainly Kenshin would be the best person he could analyse. As Selibas set his own feet, he allowed his mind to drift to the rest of the duties he had left in the day. There were still other Khans he needed to speak with, then there was the organization of forces larger than most Sacaens had ever dared dreamed to be a part of, and he needed to see what he could do about reforging the blade of his master. Chlane would not want him to dawdle in grief, and leave such a blade unused in his wake, and his pupil would respect that even if it tugged on his heart to consider working in his hour of sadness and manipulating the sword of a man who had lived by it his whole life. His shoulder's were burdened under a heavy weight, but perhaps that was the way that duty was meant to feel, and Selibas' blood boiled out of pride rather than anger as he considered how to tackle the various tasks as only he, a mongrel could approach them.

For now however, he was content to sit back, and watch a pair of living legends spar, even if the short Khan only recognized one of them.

[Exit Thread. Anyone not dueling or watching may consider this closed if they wish]