Setting:Unified Setting/Sergal

(disclaimer: This represents an adaptation from the original source, for use in the /tg/ Unified Setting.)

This humanoid stands a head taller than a human. Its head ends in a pointed, angular snout, and its limbs are tightly sprung with dense muscle, ending in large, clawed hands and taloned feet. A thick but tapering tail trails behind. It seems a mix of wolf, shark, and bird of prey, all made to walk like a man.

History

From antiquity, the huge and barren Vilous region has been home to the Sergal. In the south dwelled the lanky and hardy subspecies of the Salzane desert. These creatures, tan and omnivorous, eked out their existence amidst broad terrain and broad temperature extremes. In the north, the windy steppe and frigid deserts of Tatola were haunted by their larger, long-haired cousins. These creatures, grey-furred grinning carnivores of claws and sinew, one part wolf, one part shark, one part bird of prey, are all the word 'sergal' means to most outsiders.

Sergal numbers were kept in check despite the huge swathes of terrain available to them. In this harsh environment, what had once been solitary hunters forged a culture of discipline and order. Working together, a tribe could take down dangerous apex predators and huge armor-plated herbivores that had once been nearly invincible to predators. With a secured supply of food, clothing, and tools made from the fallen monsters, sergals learned more sophisticated crafts, and bred larger hunting packs. Empty ritual, by trial and error, evolved into a culture of shamans, healing the sick and wounded to aid the whole. Large, organized clans emerged in the north, as the desert sergals of Salzane bred herds of horses and plated lizards for milk and meat.

Both regions of Vilous were poor, lacking in easily accessible metals or plentiful vegetation blessing the more civilized corners of the world. Even as sergal culture progressed in size and sophistication, they were limited by what was available. Craggy desert trees made for poor weapons, but they burned well enough. Lacking other avenues to advance along, sergals grew adept at firing pottery and ceramics. While not as good as metal, these provided the sergals with a starting point. Ceramic tools, weapons, and armor developed and flourished. To this day, sergal kilns produce materials for tasks thought impossible for the trade.

Only later did the sergals learn to dig deep enough and well enough to find veins of metal far below the surface. This would transform their society. Sergals had always been dangerous, but only with iron could they be anything more than a travel hazard.

Into this world, the Shigu clan bore a yellow-eyed monster named Rain Silves.

Even as a child, Rain's gaze was unsettling to her fellow Tatola Sergals. This, and her strange behavior and slowness of thought, made her an outcast. At an early age, her own mother attempted to kill her, leaving her with scars on her neck she'd bear for the rest of her life. Her story might have ended here, had she not grown up blessed in body where she was cursed in mind and spirit. She was a head over her brethren, over seven feet tall. Her movements were quick and strong. When she came of age, none in the Shigu clan could stand before her sword or spear. Her terrible golden eyes had made her loathsome as a child, but terrifying in her prime. Fear forged the Shigu into a tool to her deranged will.

She made war against all around her, animal cunning, force of personality, and sheer strength of sword-arm bending clan after clan beneath her. The bulk of Tatola's population, those who survived, knelt to her, and she turned her sights southwards.

The sergals of Salzane desert had never been as large as their grey cousins, but were more adapted to the warmer climate there. Under Rain, it would not be enough. No longer mere war-bands skirmishing for territory, Rain's army drove south, logistics making up for their inferior adaptation. The southern sergals were no easy prey. They fought back where and when they could, and disappeared into the desert when outmatched. The conflict lasted for years, sapping the will of the north. They would have given up, were it not for the insatiable bloodlust of the man-eater, Rain. Fearing her more than the crafty warriors of the sands, they pushed further and further into Salzane, killing and enslaving all in their path.

The war, it has been said, never truly ended. To this day, bands of tan sergals roam free in the trackless wastes. Nevertheless, less than ten years after Rain began her war, the majority of Salzane's natives were in chains, or eaten.

The conquest had bled all Vilous white. Not even their feared general could coax more conquest from them. And so, reluctantly, she allowed her empire to turn its efforts to rebuilding. During this time, she learned all she could of the life-magic of the shamans. She failed, disinterested, with their life rituals, but her spirit was strong with the blood she'd spilled and drank. She learned to twist her own body, minorly at first, but with growing talent. Hope, by both the southern sergals and the empire's neighbors, that the crude autocracy would collapse, proved empty. Rain refused to die, cutting down assassins with glee, and resisting their most exotic poisons. With time, rumors spread of these unfortunates dying not to the blade of the increasingly mad general, but a monster with a thousand horrible shapes, sharing only her slitted yellow eyes.

And then, one night, Rain vanished. Her reign lasted thirty years, and colors every part of sergal society to this day. Before her time, yellow eyes were considered bad luck for a sergal, or worse. After, such creatures were treated with a nervous respect, for fear that it might be the general in disguise. In her absence, Vilous has remained united under one banner, perhaps out of simple fear that the the monster empress would return should it fall.

The Empire

Today, Vilous is ruled by a council of the noble families, including the still extant, though decreasingly important, family of Silves. They watch over an empire created in the design of their long departed god-general. Sergals have always been disciplined pack-hunters, but in the last century, they became truly militaristic. It has been said that other kingdoms see soldiers as tools of the state, but sergals see the state as a tool the soldiers. Wars are common, and several small states that once bordered the empire have been conquered, enslaved, or simply obliterated. Nevertheless, the challenges of maintaining its conquests and borders, given the relative poorness of its homeland, has kept the empire from being the all-conquering superpower it wishes it was.

Silvorum remains the capital of the Empire, built by Rain's decree and the labor of tens of thousands, willing and otherwise. It sits sheltered from the wind in a steep-walled valley, near rich and deep mining deposits. Vilous sports few truly large cities, and so Silvorum is a hub of trade and workshop industry for the whole empire.

Most northern sergals lead a semi-nomadic lifestyle, driving herds across their sparse but enormous lands, raiding, trading with outsiders with the permanent towns and cities of the empire. Here, meat and other goods are exchanged for metal tools, weapons, armor, and crafted wares. Sergals remain talented workers of crystal, ceramics, glass, and pottery. Their metal-working is adequate, but beneath that of more legendary forges outside the empire. These facts, combined with the near limitless Sergal demand for weapons, keeps trade flowing. Perhaps out of sheer necessity, Sergals often show surprising hospitality and civility to outsiders in times of peace.

In the south, the Salzane desert remains a conquest. Free southern sergals exist, but their tribes are few and far between, always in danger of being set on and enslaved by Silvorum's armies. Life for the slaves and serfs isn't much worse, raising meat and crafting goods for their masters, as their ancestors did for themselves. The brutal policies of General Rain have given way to an unkind but survivable system. Northern masters dwell mostly in fortified towns and cities, sending out punitive war-bands to punish any southern sergals who fail to obey. These are also home to the mines and workshops of the region, with southern sergals figuratively, or sometimes literally, chained to their work, processing rations and goods for the army, or goods to be traded. Much of the empire's wealth comes from this serfdom.

Mercenaries are another form of income. Independent bands of sergal soldiers venture forth to fight for whoever has gold for it, and the empire's army sends out trained units with the same intent. These warriors gain valuable experience and pay for themselves, along with providing the empire with a portion of currency, and knowledge of foreign techniques and tactics. More than once has a neighboring state faced a sergal invasion, to find their foe trained and equipped to counter their particular art of war. Thankfully, this works both ways. The empire's army has proven formidable, but far from undefeatable.

Military

The greatest symbol of the sergal way of war is the armored spearman. (Alternately translated as 'speargal'.) Wearing distinctive, angular halfplate, sergal soldiers are famed for their combination of speed, endurance, and iron discipline. Sergals have no cavalry. The Tatolian horse is raised for its meat and milk, but is unsuitable for riding even by humans, much less the large and taloned sergals. This is partly compensated by the speed of their infantry, and their preference to fight from ambush. The heart of the empire is mostly steppe and desert, but their borders have expanded into mountains, hills, rivers, and forests, which they've had ample time to grow very familiar with.

The sergals do make use of ranged troops, from skirmishers armed with javelins and slings, to proper units of archers. Northern sergals are not too proud for these roles, but southern sergals or other conquered races are more common for such a support role, freeing up strong northern sergals for use in heavy-hitting infantry units.

The traditional sergal salute is to place one hand over the left eye. This likely stems from a gesture of vulnerability, removing binocular and peripheral vision from the lower-ranked soldier.