The Surrender of the Red Claw Tribe

The two walked towards the permanent camp that marked the seat of power of the Red Claw tribe. Abrahm Al-Zahir and Horus Ashar. Both young warriors of the Earthblood tribe, the two had been friends since childhood. Horus had managed to convince the elders of their tribe that he could get the desert nomads to stop their raids into the delta. Abrahm knew Horus to be charismatic and charming when it suited him but he failed to see how this endeavour did suit him. The Red Claw raids were few and far between and normally involved nothing more than stealing food and livestock, there were weaker tribes nearby that took the brunt of the Red Claws attentions.
"...Because I do not believe they are content being raiders." Horus said as the two passed below sandstone cliffs "I can offer them more than that."
"What makes you think they want anything more than what they have?" Abrahm asked. "They have the power to take lands from other tribes already if they wanted."
"But a good leader of raiders would not be a good leader of farmers. And I believe King Rashna knows this. He fears his power would diminish if his people settle down. All I need to do is convince him otherwise."
"And how do you plan on influencing the great Blade of the Desert to settle down?"
"Don't worry, I have a planned for this. Now, we must not talk of this any more. Dont want prying ears to hear of our secret plans, do we?" The two had reached the edge of the camp. In front them sat dotted a hundred or so tents, maroon and orange fabric flapping lightly in the wind.
The eyes of the Tabaxi tribe known as the Red Claw followed them as they made their way towards the centre of the encampment, to the largest tent some fifty yards across and half as tall.
Abrahm had clutched in his left hand a banner, a mark that the two were here on a diplomatic mission. The banner was not of the Earthblood tribe however. Horus had given him one of a dark ochre, a blazing orange sun set in the middle with an hourglass set on its side so the sand lay still silhouetted in front of it. A symbol of all the peoples of the desert, Horus had said, better than to be seen as scheming for the sake of the tribe.
The two stopped outside the tent, a rough looking tabaxi woman in ceremonial bronze armour blocked their way.
"I am Horus Ashar of the Earthblood tribe, my companion is Abrahm Al-Zehir, also of the Earthblood tribe. I would have business with the great King Rashna." The woman glanced at the banner Abrahm held aloft then ducked inside the tent without a word, emerging a few seconds later to pull aside the tent flap gesturing for them to enter.
Inside were fifty or so tabaxi, a few humans and halflings mixed in with them. They sat on cushioned chairs and benches around the edges of the tent. Guards in the same ceremonial garb as the woman outside were stationed sporadically throughout the space. On the far side of the circle a platform raised a wooden throne decorated with furs and jewels upon which sat a large leonin that must be the King. People chatted and sipped of fine glass goblets and the overall atmosphere was one of relaxation. A few people glanced uninterested at the two young men, taking note of the strange banner but returning to their conversations.
Abrahm felt sweat bead on his brow but Horus held himself confidently. A hint of a smile passed his lips as he greedily took in the information around him, the buzz of conversation, the relaxed guards, the leonin sitting upright and proud in his throne, hand resting gently on the ornate pommel of his scimitar, this man wanted to be seen as a superior, that much was obvious. He was large even for a leonin and seeing him in person the two Earthblood men did not doubt he was worthy of his reputation.
Horus strode confidently forward to the central clearing in front of the throne, Abrahm following behind.
"Horus Ashar and Abrahm Al-Zehir." Announced an older leonin standing beside the throne. The thrum of conversation continued around them.
"Great King Rashna, most Exalted Blade of the Desert." Horus bowed deeply. "I am Horus Ashar and I humbly request you surrender yourself and your tribe to me."
Abrahm's body stiffened. a wave of silence rippled out across the crowd. The guards nearest them placed their hands upon their swords. Horus remained bowed.
Slowly and deliberately the King pushed himself up out of his chair to stand a good half a foot taller than either of the humans before him. He growled a low growl, "Do you dare to declare war upon the Red Claw?"
"I do, on behalf of myself, my tribe and all peoples of the desert." Horus stood back up straight, "Surrender to me and stand at my side, there need not be bloodshed. Only then can we achieve great things."
The King paused, anger and disbelief etched across his face. He waved his paw violently towards the guards surrounding them. "Kill them for their insolence!" He roared. The ring of metal filled the tent as the guards drew their swords. Many of the tabaxi that had been sitting around also drew weapons and rushed towards the pair.
Abrahm barely had time to draw his sword before the first guard was upon him. He deflected the downward swing of the blade, batting it to the side before driving his curved sword between the armour plating in the man's armpit. With a gurgling scream the man fell. A woman charged him roaring a battle cry, blade held high. Abrahm caught her in her grey furred throat with the speartip point of the standard and blood splattered across the banner.
Next to him Horus had waited until the last second to draw his blade, ducking under the first swing he drew his blade in a fluid slash across the man's chest before bringing the blade in backslash against a guard slicing through his unprotected neck. Another guard thrust a spear towards him. Horus was slow to dodge and the spear grazed his left arm. He caught the spear in one hand and pulled the guard towards him, burying his blade in the opening of the tabaxi's bronze helm.
The two men stood back to back, five dead and dying at their feet the rest of the crowd gave pause to their charge and they were given a temporary respite as their opponents circled them. Abrahm panted, his eyes glancing around for any way out of the situation. Horus, the madman, had just got them killed.
Horus however seemed collected. "I had expected..." Horus' voice rang out over the crowd, "... That the great Blade of the Desert would put down this challenge himself. Or is he merely an old wives' tale told to scare little children?"
The King stepped down from his his platform, pushing two tabaxi out of the way to get face to face with Horus. He stared down at the young man, his hand still resting on the pommel of his undrawn scimitar. Horus stared back up at him confidently. Blood began to run down his arm from where the spear had caught him and he winced slightly as his other hand attempted to cover the wound. The King let out a low chuckle.
"Clear the square. I will make an example of this one." The King pushed past the two of the them and headed to the exit of the tent.
"What about the other one?" Called one of the tabaxi guards.
"He will share my fate." Horus said authoritatively, "If I am victorious, so is he, and if I die, so does he."
No one seemed to have a problem with that. After all this upstart would soon be dead so what did it matter.
Abrahm realised this was probably the best he could hope for so stayed silent. People began moving out out of the tent towards the open area outside leaving the two of them alone in the tent. He turned towards Horus ready to have at him for getting them both in this situation but stopped. Still clutching his bleeding arm, Horus was smiling.
"What could you possibly have to smile about?" He questioned angrily. He pulled Horus' hand away from his wound to take a look.
"My dream, my dear friend. My dream of uniting the peoples of the desert, it begins here. And you are here to witness it." He sounded so very excited, "You're here flying the banner of the people of the desert by my side. You will stay by my side? Be my standard bearer as we stand at the head of great armies won't you?"
Abrahm allowed himself a smile as he shook his head. "If we make it out of this? Sure I'll wave your little flag for you." He marveled at Horus' ability to see only greatness in his future, even in the most dire of circumstances.
"I mean it." Horus locked eyes with Abrahm , his demeanour suddenly serious, "I want you there beside me."
"Yeah..." Abrahm said, caught off guard by Horus' intensity, "... of course." He wiped away most of the blood from Horus' arm. The cut was shallow and had only just broken the skin. He looked up at Horus who was smiling again and gave Abrahm a wink before he clutched his wound with his right hand and feigned a wince of pain, his left hand holding his sword in a loose grasp.

In the clear area outside the tent wardums beat and the whole camp seemed to have turned out to watch. They formed a wide circle as a form of arena. King Rashna on one side, his long purple cloak removed and his ornate scimitar drawn, and on the other side looking rather bedraggled stood Horus, still clutching his bleeding arm. The King paced back and forth eyeing his opponent.
"Know that when you and your friend are dead I will take my anger out on your people. Your arrogance has doomed them to suffer." The King roared out.
"And if I win," Horus had to shout to be heard over the drums, "Your people will serve under me and together we will forge something far greater than you could ever dream." This drew a few chuckles from the crowd.
Rashna scoffed, "If you win!? Ha, I'll promise you the whole the whole desert if you win." His voice lowered to a growl. "You will not win."
The King stopped pacing. The drums fell silent and the voices dimmed. The King lowered his stance, ready to charge. Horus made a show of wincing as he raised his sword to be ready.
The drums hammered twice in unison and the crowd cheered as the King leapt off his line crossing the twenty yards between them in a moment, his great scimitar swinging in an arc that could cleave a man in two. Horus' grip tensed as he dropped the pretense of pain and brought his sword up to intercept with his left arm. A great clang of metal on metal rang out over the cheers and drums. A look of surprise crossed King Rashna's face at the surprising strength of his opponent. It did not last long as Horus' right fist connected squarely with his nose. The King was sent stumbling backwards blood flying from his broken nose and in that moment of distraction Horus darted forwards and ran the Blade of the Desert through with his sword.
The drums stopped. A shocked silence took over the crowd as the great leonin slid off Horus' sword and fell to his knees. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and then slumped face first into the ground.
Horus picked up the ornate scimitar from where the fallen King had dropped it. He looked around at the shocked crowd and raised the sword into the air.
"Today a new age dawns." His voice rang out clearly across the spectating crowd. "Follow me and I can promise you lands to grow old in and fields to feed you. Follow me and from today you stop being raiders and become conquerers."
He planted the sword firmly in the earth and Abrahm was sure he felt the shake ever so slightly. "Pick your new leader and meet me under the great boabab tree in three days. I shall await you with my own forces and combined we will be the greatest army the desert has ever known. And we shall march under this banner." Horus pointed to Abrahm who felt suddenly uncomfortable with all these hostile eyes upon him. "Not one of my tribe, nor yours, but one of all peoples of the desert."
He gestured for Abrahm to follow him and began heading towards the edge of the arena in the same direction the two had entered the camp. He was afraid that the crowd would not move, the glaring hostile faces seemed to Abrahm to want revenge. Nevertheless when Horus reached them none stepped forward to challenge him, the crowd parted and he continued through the camp, holding himself regally despite the King's blood that stained his hands. Abrahm tried to follow suit, holding the blood splattered banner aloft.