The Empire The Savanna Tribes

[Gerra]

Few knew of the Emperor’s return. Only those few whom he took on the expedition into the Savanna. A cadre of his Immortals, their faces obscured by masks, surrounded him. Almost all others were simply servants and slaves who saw to the long baggage train of camels laden with goods from all along the Baal-Asha and Baal-Duru.

Gerra rode upon a wagon, features impassive as he stared out over the endless grassland - dotted only by scrubs and lone trees. They would arrive soon at the camp of one of the great Aberrasai chieftains. There would be many tribes there, including some Ngonya Beastmen - those fearsome lion men of the Savanna whose light spearmen were famous for their ferocity. So many different tribes would lead to trouble. He must be cautious, lest the metal forged from such an alliance be a brittle alloy.

They would need some crucible to harden them together.

To unify them.

Such were the thoughts of the son of Molthal as his wagon rattled on.

Aeyliea Ashuanar Nym

 

[Aeyliea]

No unity among men.

It was an old proverb, kept among the No'rei and, likely, among all the men under the sun. The only unity could be found among family, and the tribe itself was a large family. Tribe, clan, people...but beyond, no great thing could be built that would last, no great thing would be built that could stand the test of time without spitting in the faces of the ancestors, or defiling the spirits of the world itself.

She had seen it. Had seen it in the soulless eyes of the dwellers of the stone huts and their grand cities, cities where the wealthy controlled all regardless of their connection to land, to soul, to spirit. To wild. And the people of those places, clad in iron and steel, riding where most feared to walk, were coming again. They were always coming, always trying to steal their lands, to crush their way of life into the dust.

Aeyliea had spoken most vociferously against it, but alas, her weight only went so far. She was one among many; not chieftain, not great warleader. Only one among the shamans, if an oddly powerful one - one touched by the spirits themselves, as was plain for all to see. The white of her hair among a people with black, the stormy blue of her eyes when among the No'rei, all were dark of eye. Almost, one could be forgiven for thinking her an outsider.

But she was not. Favored by the Wild, as it was understood, she had been marked. By that alone was her word given any additional weight. If she had chosen to take up the shawl of the shamans when she was told to, things would be different than they were.

But she had not, and they were not.

The gathering was rather large for the denizens of the sweeping plains, hundreds if not thousands gathered in one place. Cookfires dotted the place, and the hide tents common among the nomads such as herself. There was a tension in the area that could be cut with a belt knife, an uneasiness between one another nearly as strong as the distrust towards the one for whom all this had been arranged.

Aeyliea did not trust the outsiders one bit. Much could be laid at their feet for what was wrong in her life, and for that of her people. No high-born outsider could possibly hope to forge a peace that she would cede to, not without trickery and deceit. The twin pain of her chest and her left arm danced in time, reminding her what the others had done to her. One was decently hidden away beneath cloth; the other hidden beneath a wrapping of cloth so that her arm from shoulder to wrist on one hand appeared bound in cloth that bore archaic glyphs upon it.

She did not come to the forefront. She merely waited in the wings, watching with distrustful eyes.

 

[Ashuanar]

A cadre of his Immortals...

...Almost all others were simply servants and slaves...

Almost.​

---

The air was different here.

The wind, too.

And beneath, neither rock or sand, but soil and grass - for as far as the eyes could see. A desert of its own kind, in a way.

Ashuanar could be found - even by any who knew him - with some difficulty, mixed into the crowd that followed after Gerra. As an assassin firstly, he felt for him to be hidden from any immediate attention would be most prudent. He had no intention of showing him and his too deceptive in their ways, but he had no intention of allowing any attempt upon the Emperor's life or wellbeing to go unnoticed or immediately unanswered. Despite whatever grievances Ashuanar had with Gerra now, he was still sworn to him, and would defend and serve as he always had.

Or would he?

This difficulty in him had grown over time. Since the scars in his soul were made, inflicted on him by the hands of Fieravene - albeit his own doing, coupled with the events following Drakormir's waking. These things had changed him, and to those most privy - the likes of Medja, and perhaps by proxy Nymeasha - his motivations were anything but certain anymore.

Yet... he answered when called.

---

Gerra | Aeyliea​