The Introduction of the Five Nations
Who: Prince Consort Ahamo, ‘Lord’ Wyatt Cain
When: February Eight, 11:00 am
What: Diplomatic Duties and Political Dancing
Where: The Prince Consort's Official Meeting Room
Spending two full hours in the ‘secure room’ in the bowels of the Palace basement had not lent to a very positive mood towards the man engaged to his youngest daughter. Although he had accepted it as a revenging move over the laundry list of classes Wyatt Cain had been ‘asked’ to attend with the Royal Tutor.
Lav had already announced her neutrality for the ‘pointless feud’ as she called it, refusing to choose sides. Not that Ahamo had asked her to, neither had he admitted that getting under Cain’s skin was far more fun than he should be having carrying the title of Prince Consort. Then again, fun of any sort, even if it was a ‘pointless’ one-upmanship with the younger man, was something sorely lacking in the too numerous annuals past.
Today was the day the delegation from the Land of the Five Nations had arrived. Within a single set of borders, in five vastly different ecosystems, there were five unique tribes.
Sirua, a thin, dark skinned woman with close shorn hair and colorful clothes and jewelry. Of the nomadic Masai Tribe, her people inhabit the grasslands of their Land, moving their villages every three to four annuals as their pastures run dry. Her husband, Ahamo knew, remained at home with their children, less for his ability to care for them and more for the fact that the Masai men are warriors first and foremost. The women are the diplomats.
Chosovi, an elderly, but good natured man. In opposition to Sirua’s single woven red cloth wrapped around her body from throat to knee many times, Chosovi wore a buckskin around his hips. His grayed hair was set in two long braids, strands of beads strung on leather thongs around his neck clinked against another with every movement. The tribe he led, the Hopi, dwelled in pueblo like houses in the desert of the land. Houses held in ownership by the women in the tribe, but farmed by the husbands.
Ithel, who was pale skinned and pale eyed, with the darkest brown hair, came from the Silures tribe. Odd that he spent so much time smiling in friendship, given that his people were considered some of the most warlike, at least in their history. Long ago they had brokered peace with the other four tribes within the same country, and their legendary battles had long since passed. The remnants of their warrior ancestry remained, however, in their heavy leathers and furs, and of their skill with a broadsword. Even today, the designing of their swords and armor was considered an art form. Their people lived in fortified villages in the rockiest part of the lands, but did not falter for it.
The Menapii tribe, forest dwellers, were represented by Grainne. One of their leaders. Not the leader, but one of several. Ahamo had met the striking woman more than once, with brown hair and gray eyes, freckles scattered over her nose and the tops of her cheeks. But Grainne being the chosen representative for her people was never quite static, and never quite a rotation of the others, but something in between. Even after having met the woman on more than one occasion, he still knew little of her. And little of her culture beyond the basics he had scraped together over the annuals before the Witch.
Among the much taller representatives, the council member from the Nenets tribe, Oaxana appeared nearly childlike. With a short body and a rounded face, her dark almond shaped eyes still flashed wisdom that seemed at odds with her youthful appearance. Her kind were clansmen and women, who somehow survived the rough and icy tundra to the extreme Northwest of their lands, and while the Prince Consort noted that she had shed the many outer layers that were traditional, she still seemed to exude an impression of hardiness.
This would be Captain…no, Lord Cain’s first introduction to the Five Tribes. And, a bit mercilessly, Ahamo was willing to give him room to flounder for a bit. A great number of documents had been sent to Cain’s office, only that morning, detailing everything known about the tribes. Their beliefs, family set ups, diets, complex customs…everything.
Ahamo stepped just outside of the room, with a short and respectful nod of his head, to wait for Cain’s arrival.
When: February Eight, 11:00 am
What: Diplomatic Duties and Political Dancing
Where: The Prince Consort's Official Meeting Room
Spending two full hours in the ‘secure room’ in the bowels of the Palace basement had not lent to a very positive mood towards the man engaged to his youngest daughter. Although he had accepted it as a revenging move over the laundry list of classes Wyatt Cain had been ‘asked’ to attend with the Royal Tutor.
Lav had already announced her neutrality for the ‘pointless feud’ as she called it, refusing to choose sides. Not that Ahamo had asked her to, neither had he admitted that getting under Cain’s skin was far more fun than he should be having carrying the title of Prince Consort. Then again, fun of any sort, even if it was a ‘pointless’ one-upmanship with the younger man, was something sorely lacking in the too numerous annuals past.
Today was the day the delegation from the Land of the Five Nations had arrived. Within a single set of borders, in five vastly different ecosystems, there were five unique tribes.
Sirua, a thin, dark skinned woman with close shorn hair and colorful clothes and jewelry. Of the nomadic Masai Tribe, her people inhabit the grasslands of their Land, moving their villages every three to four annuals as their pastures run dry. Her husband, Ahamo knew, remained at home with their children, less for his ability to care for them and more for the fact that the Masai men are warriors first and foremost. The women are the diplomats.
Chosovi, an elderly, but good natured man. In opposition to Sirua’s single woven red cloth wrapped around her body from throat to knee many times, Chosovi wore a buckskin around his hips. His grayed hair was set in two long braids, strands of beads strung on leather thongs around his neck clinked against another with every movement. The tribe he led, the Hopi, dwelled in pueblo like houses in the desert of the land. Houses held in ownership by the women in the tribe, but farmed by the husbands.
Ithel, who was pale skinned and pale eyed, with the darkest brown hair, came from the Silures tribe. Odd that he spent so much time smiling in friendship, given that his people were considered some of the most warlike, at least in their history. Long ago they had brokered peace with the other four tribes within the same country, and their legendary battles had long since passed. The remnants of their warrior ancestry remained, however, in their heavy leathers and furs, and of their skill with a broadsword. Even today, the designing of their swords and armor was considered an art form. Their people lived in fortified villages in the rockiest part of the lands, but did not falter for it.
The Menapii tribe, forest dwellers, were represented by Grainne. One of their leaders. Not the leader, but one of several. Ahamo had met the striking woman more than once, with brown hair and gray eyes, freckles scattered over her nose and the tops of her cheeks. But Grainne being the chosen representative for her people was never quite static, and never quite a rotation of the others, but something in between. Even after having met the woman on more than one occasion, he still knew little of her. And little of her culture beyond the basics he had scraped together over the annuals before the Witch.
Among the much taller representatives, the council member from the Nenets tribe, Oaxana appeared nearly childlike. With a short body and a rounded face, her dark almond shaped eyes still flashed wisdom that seemed at odds with her youthful appearance. Her kind were clansmen and women, who somehow survived the rough and icy tundra to the extreme Northwest of their lands, and while the Prince Consort noted that she had shed the many outer layers that were traditional, she still seemed to exude an impression of hardiness.
This would be Captain…no, Lord Cain’s first introduction to the Five Tribes. And, a bit mercilessly, Ahamo was willing to give him room to flounder for a bit. A great number of documents had been sent to Cain’s office, only that morning, detailing everything known about the tribes. Their beliefs, family set ups, diets, complex customs…everything.
Ahamo stepped just outside of the room, with a short and respectful nod of his head, to wait for Cain’s arrival.