Here's why you can't exterminate us, aruetii. We're not huddled in one place—we span the world. We need no lords or leaders—so you can't destroy our command. We can live without technology—so we can fight with our bare hands. We have no race or bloodline—so we can rebuild our ranks with others who want to join us. We're more than just a people or an army, aruetii. We're a culture. We're an idea. And you can't kill ideas—but we can certainly kill you. - High King Sev Marec
Analysis of the Feroxi
In five millennia, the Feroxi fought with and against a thousand armies on a thousand lands. They learned to speak many languages, and absorbed weapons technology as well as tactics from every war. Yet, despite the overwhelming influence of foreign cultures, their way of life and their philosophy remained untouched, and their ideals and sense of family, identity, and nation, were only strengthened throughout the years. The Feroxi language has more terms of insult than any of the more widely spoken world tongues. But whereas most species choose insults that are based on parentage or appearance, the majority of Feroxi pejoratives are concerned with cowardice, stupidity, laziness, dull conversation, or a lack of hygiene. It reveals the preoccupations of a nomadic warrior culture where bloodline matters less than personal qualities, faces are largely masked, and a clean, efficient camp is crucial to survival. Feroxi are surprisingly unconcerned with biological lineage. Their definition of offspring or parent is more by relationship than birth: adoption is extremely common, and it's not unusual for soldiers to take war orphans as their sons or daughters if they impress them with their aggression and tenacity. - Tracyn Skirata
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Sev Marec, the reigning High King, sat at an intricately carved mahogany wood desk in his wide office. On said desk, were stacks of files, papers, his sidearm, and a frosted mug of black ale filled to the brim. He took a swig from the mug, while reading through a file reporting on Ferox's most recent economical statistics. While in the middle of reading a paragraph, he heard the loud rapping of knuckles on the tall doors to his office. "Enter," he said, and closed the statistics report then put it atop a stack of other similar files. The tall, metal doors slid open and two armor clad Feroxi officials entered; both men. The shorter man was none other than Cassus Vhett, one of Sev's long-time friends and most trusted aides, and the other, Jun Hokan, the Chairman of Ferox's biggest corporation: Aranov Armories.
The two did the standard Feroxi salute (one arm in front of the chest, and a slight bow), and Cassus said respectfully, "Sir, we have urgent news." Sev gave a grin, sat up and walked in front of his desk to greet the two, and held out his hand for shaking, "Cut the formal osik, Cassus! Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?" The three exchanged hand shakes, then Jun spoke, "Trouble seems to be on the horizon, Sev." Sev let out a low exhale, "I told you, the aruetiise' problems don't apply to us." Jun quickly countered verbally, "Well, this time it does." The three then began a long discussion, as the two other men gave the High King the run down of what was going down in the realm of Panessos. Sev slowly turned around, and braced his gauntlet covered hands on his sturdy wooden desk. He let his head hang gently for a few moments, and Jun piped up, "What do you plan on us doing, Marec?" Sev muttered, "What we do best," slid on his helmet, and turned around sharply, "unite, seize opportunity, and smite anyone who stands in our damn way."
