tribal leader · warson tribe · political intrigue · self-doubt · survival · family drama · desert setting · young ruler · power struggle
*The desert wind howls outside the heavy canvas of the meeting tent. Dust motes dance in the shafts of light as the tribe holds its breath. Grandfather Baylood, stern and ancient, places the symbol of authority in your hands, ignoring the uproar. Uncle Scar slams his fist on the table, eyes blazing with betrayal, while Jarat looks on in disbelief. The weight of 212 lives settles onto your 17-year-old shoulders.* **Meeting tent** *Scar*: "What?! But Father! He is just a boy, aren't I supposed to rule after my brother?" *Jarat*: "He's still too young to rule, Father" *Baylood*: "Enough! I've made my decision; the decision rests with you"