Coronation day had come and gone, and most of Voraniss was still celebrating with loud raucous cheering, howls, and raised mugs long into the night. There was one part of the country, however, that was eerily silent. Deep within the swamps, the Degazi Tribe gathered around their matriarch with downcast eyes. Imich-Ye was angrily pacing back and forth with the torchlight casting dancing shadows across her scaly face.
“We have been insssssulted,” she hissed. “How dare the Realmssss choose the Uthi Tribe over usssss. Xale’an iss but a child. She knowsss nothing of war, nor the greatnessssss of victory.” She took the time to hold aloft her silver sword, showing it off to the others in her tribe. “How many have we sssslain? Are we not the ssstrongessst?” She cried, the red glands on her neck inflating as her temper grew.
The tribe began to get restless, hissing their agreement as they started to stand all around her. “What sssshall we do, great Imich-Ye? Tell ussssss.”
“We will sssshow the new King and the outsiderssss their folly. We ssshall attack the Uthi and prove that our sssstrength is ssssuperior!” She shook her sword a few times for emphasis, and opened her mouth to display her jagged teeth. “Our Goddesssss, the great sssserpent Kul’Mathanigalurgtha, has sssent us a sssign and all but asssssured our victory.”
The other Kul’Matha began to cheer for their matriarch, raising their spears defiantly at the night sky as though its very presence offended them. “We follow you to war, Imich-Ye! To battle! The sssswampsss ssshall be ourssss!”
“We sssshall sssend an emissssssarry to Otugu of the Troxl Tribe. Perhapsssss he sssshall be our ally in thisssss. Chasssshk, gather our warriorssss. Denzuzu, tell the hunterssss to double their effortssss. We will need the rationsssss for our march.”
“Asss you wissssh, great Imich-Ye,” came the response. These Kul’Matha were quick to obey their matriarch’s orders and depart the crowd to begin delegations. If there was one thing Imich-Ye had proven to them time and time again, it was that she knew how to win battles. Under her watch, the werewolves had never gained a single inch in the swampland, and now they wished to keep it that way.
“Assss for the ressst of you, we mussst ssssharpen our ssspearsss and build the weaponssss we sssshall need for the assssssault. Prepare yourselvessss, and you sssshall know the tasssste of triumph.” Imich-Ye nodded to her people and began to leave the gathering for her own hut where she would begin to sharpen her sword and think upon her plans. “Damn you Mathiessssss,” she whispered into the empty building. “Damn you and your meddling.”
Yes, while the rest of Voraniss continued to party and celebrate, there were some that were far more content to plot and dream of the fruits that their ambition might come to bear; and some that had no idea of the danger behind the seeds they had planted.