[center][b][u]The Snow Brutes[/u]

Era of Dud's Great Tribe 
Population: 256[/b]

Dud paced his bare, newly erected, hut. He had finally done it. Centuries of war tearing his species apart had been ended in a few months. Dud was considered the greatest fighter the Snow Brutes had ever seen. On top of that, he was a genius by Brute standards. Being a natural leader, hardened by war training since birth, along with being a brilliant Tactician, catapulted him into the Chief position of his small tribe since the time he was 17 and his father fell in battle. The young man flourished, using weapons refined over the many years of fighting,  he quickly lead his tribe to have the greatest military might out of any of the Brute tribes. This meant his was also the most powerful. Although he was on the top of his small world, something was off. His father had always longed for the tribes to be united as one, always preaching about the glory, the might all of the tribes could bring the Brutes as a species. Dud decided to keep this dream alive and set out to kill the leaders of the other tribes and those most loyal to them. The other tribes were no match for Dud and his warriors. They killed one leader, recruited his tribe by offering fairness, glory, and protection for their women and children and moved on to the next, creating a snow ball effect.

 Eventually every tribe was joined together, and here Dud was,  about to address his freshly united people. Dud took a deep, calming breath and stepped out of his hut, facing the large crowd of men, women, and children. "Fellow Brutes!", he bellowed in a deep, booming tone, "Centuries of mindless killing are over! Here,  we Snow Brutes, stand together as one! As one military might unlike any seen before!", he raised his ragged stone sword into the air, "For lasting glory we come together! For a brighter future we fight together!" At this the crowd burst into hardy cheers of joy. Many had wanted this for years. Unfortunately, the tribal leaders were too power hungry to even consider togetherness. Not to mention, the common Brute could not fathom how to undertake this task. Then Dud happened, and at the young age of 20, he completed his father's dream. 

"First things first," his voice quieted the crowd, "we need to separate into groups of work. Rog, you are the greatest weapon and tool maker, you are in charge of making weapons and hunting tools and making huts,  and coming up with any new tools. Fur, you are the greatest hunter, you lead the hunts. Joz, you are the greatest teacher, you are in charge of seeing talent at a young age and teaching them the ways of war, the hunt, weapon and tool forging or teaching. Gab,  you are the best tactician of all of us, you are the leader of our military. Each of you are to hand pick your group members and report to me when done." Dud turned and stepped back into his hut, taking a deep breath as he eased himself and his sword onto the floor. "That went well," he murmured to himself. His hands played with the long hair covering his body, he was tired but beaming with pride. The impossible had been done. It was now his job to keep it together, and find that greater glory that his father died searching for. [/center]