C10(1) "The..."

"The Hatred Tribunal"
(WC 1753)

It was a day like any other for Chulon. Lom's warlord had his people gearing up for another battle along their northeastern border. Gulala had made some headway into Lom's holdings there, supplanting their losses along the southeastern portion of the border where Lom had been pushing hard for the past few months. Confident they could maintain their new holdings to the south, the tribe of Lom was hurriedly rushing to the north to quell the advances made by their enemy.
Chulon had yet to see any familiar faces from the tribe of Gulala and though he consoled himself with the reminder that they were all his enemies, he found it a relief not to have to look into the face of any he had formerly pretended were friends.
The shift to the north would be advantageous to Chulon, moving him closer to the tribes of Kier-Ree-Tan so he could make a clean departure from the ranks of Lom's armies. Working his way into the inner circles of the tribe had the unfortunate side effect of making him famous amongst the warriors of Lom. Almost everywhere he traveled now he was recognized and hailed as a hero of the tribe. Though Chulon valued his access to the secret plans of the tribe, his fame made it more difficult for him to move freely now that he wanted to abandon this tribe in favor of another.
He had begun to wonder if his renown would translate into a reputation as a traitor. Perhaps moving from clan to clan had been the trait which had revealed other Ortakij scouts and allowed the clans to weed them out. This did not seem likely, though, because no apparent communication occurred between the clans in any form.
They did not make it to the front lines of the battlefield to the north, though. They were very close when an order from Lom came down through the ranks suddenly. They were to stop and wait. There was no explanation for this abrupt change in strategy and no apparent reason why it would be necessary. But no reason was needed for an order from the leader of the tribe. When he said stop, they would stop.
Chulon wondered if perhaps Gulala had been able to push back along the southern border, causing the warlord to reconsider his aggressive strategies. It seemed unlikely they would be told to simply stop if this were the case. If the warlord were truly concerned about an advance like that, he would have called for them to move back south or press their attacks more quickly. He wouldn't have told them to just stop and wait. Chulon felt there must be something else at work now. In all of his time with the tribes of Gulala and Lom he had never witnessed an action like this.
The army, unsure of what to do next, set about the process of making camp while they waited. Chulon busied himself with this task as well, inwardly hoping they would soon continue northward so he could make his escape from this group. He thought it best to feign his own death on the battlefield. It would raise the fewest questions. Tribal armies did not bother to check the dead or search for wounded. Any who were too damaged to return to camp of their own accord were left where they lay and no more concern was spared for their lives. A clean break like that would shield him from any of the potential difficulties Chulon had worried about.
The army had sat dormant in camp for two days before something happened. Chulon had plenty of time to worry about what might come next. After this time had passed a new group arrived in their camp. This group was strange to Chulon, the fact that they were so well-dressed was the first thing which struck him as very different. They had an air of importance about them and the warriors of Lom's armies gave them wide berth, shrinking back in their presence as though very afraid. This group was obviously of great importance, although Chulon did not recognize any of its members.
After making an initial inspection of the camp, the group settled into one of the tents which had been set up and began calling for warriors to come speak with them. Whispers began to circle through the camp about this strange intrusion. Chulon soon caught the name “Nhimyggai” being whispered repeatedly. He felt his hopes rise sharply. At last he was hearing some confirmation of what Pinmey had told him at Hearkendale. Were the Nhimyggai real? Chulon decided to take this opportunity to find out.
He asked around amongst a few of Lom's warriors, trying to see what they meant. But when he inquired about the Nhimyggai, he was universally met with silence. These men were genuinely afraid of this group. They constantly cast furtive glances in the direction of the tent taken over by the supposed Nhimyggai. He began to think he would get nothing other than blank looks and fear-filled glances when Chulon was called up by his superiors to go to the tent and stand before the Nhimyggai.
He wondered quickly what he should say to win their favor. If the Nhimyggai were all Pinmey had said they were, then Chulon wanted nothing more than to work his way into their ranks. He had begun to question the legitimacy of Pinmey's claims in his time in the north. For as long as he had been there, he had heard no mention of this mysterious group from anyone. Not even a vague whisper about it. Their sudden appearance here was stunning, almost unbelievable. They were like ghosts.
He stepped into the Nhimyggai tent.
“Welcome warrior.”
Seated before Chulon, the group had formed a circle. They all sat stoically, with no visible movement between the eight of them. Dressed as they were, Chulon found it difficult to determine which one had spoken as he entered. They were hidden behind rich, dark garb which covered them completely. Hoods hid their faces from his view, allowing him no cues to what the group was thinking. Wanting to avoid any awkwardness, Chulon seated himself immediately just inside the entry to the tent and looked forward expectantly, wondering what would happen next.
“We have heard you asking questions about our presence here.”
It was a statement, followed by a long pause. Chulon wondered if they expected him to answer. As the silence stretched on, he decided it best to do so.
“I have heard the name Nhimyggai before, but did not know if it was a name for myth or fact. I was simply curious if anyone else knew anything about this name.”
More silence. Not a single figure in the circle moved. Chulon calmed his spirit, focusing on his posture instead of the bizarre spectacle before him. Finally, they spoke again.
“The Nhimyggai are fact. The Nhimyggai are building an army. The Nhimyggai will destroy the Southern Kingdoms.”
Chulon felt it now. It was a sneaking suspicion when he entered the tent, but now he could feel the full force of it weighing against his mind: magic. Despite his long absence from life as a mage, he could still feel the pulse of magic as clearly as when he had practiced it. This group definitely had some magical ability. How much and how strong, he could not say without delving into a temptation he had sworn he would never again entertain. But he knew they were probing him with their arts, seeking something out, probably in his mind. Chulon stifled this realization and focused more intently on his posture. He caressed feelings of belonging and a hatred in his mind. He knew his facade would be discovered if he pushed his mind too far into the unfamiliar and offensive territory of hatred toward his own homeland, so he focused instead on a vague and generalized hatred, building on his own disdain for the tribes to fill his mind with dissatisfaction.
It was a dangerous game Chulon was playing, and somewhere deep inside of himself, he knew the risks. But he could not spare a conscious consideration for this fact. Both heart and mind were bent now under the will of the Nhimyggai and he brewed appropriate thoughts beneath his outward focus on his posture. The perfection and concentration he had learned through Laethecna aided him in this. It stemmed from his own being in a natural way, despite the lies he was trying to perpetrate. It was enough to quell the oppressive feeling of their magic. They must have been satisfied with what they found in Chulon's mind.
“What do the Nhimyggai desire of me?”
“Life, allegiance and obedience. You will fight for the Nhimyggai.”
It sounded like a question, but it was not. Chulon was being instructed by this strange group. He was expected to become a part of their group. There would be no denying their request, but Chulon had no desire to do so. He stood out amongst the warriors of Lom, he had no doubt this had sparked the Nhimyggai's interest in him. Now the wanted him. This was exactly what he wanted.
It was only a matter of time now before Chulon was able to discover what capabilities this mysterious group possessed. Pinmey had been correct, and Chulon was glad he had followed the monk's directions. The Nhimyggai were indeed powerful, but he could not yet say just how powerful they might be. If ever there were a serious threat to the Southern Kingdoms, Chulon knew he was joining its ranks. The fact that the Nhimyggai had been audacious enough to attempt to scan his thoughts proved to him they possessed serious magical abilities. Were they strong enough to challenge Dour Gujhest? Was their army big enough to take on the vast resources of the Ortakij? These questions needed to be answered before he attempted to return to Katarine.
Chulon was impressed that the Nhimyggai had been so successful at hiding themselves amongst the clans of the northlands. How did they accomplish this feat? It appeared fear and intimidation were a large portion of their strategy. The other Ortakij scouts must have been discovered by these Nhimyggai. Staying hidden from the Southern Kingdoms' view was obviously very important to this group. Chulon knew he would have to tread carefully if he intended to deliver a warning to his home in time.