[hider=NS]Tribe Name: Altara

Demonym: Altarans

Population: 840

Government Style: Altara is ruled by a chieftain, who as a council of advisors, as to help him make key decisions. 

Religious Beliefs: 'The chieftain has a decision, but the gods have the final.' The Altarans believe that the act of the gods has to do with how a nations is run. Good decisions equal good effects, but bad ones equal bad effects, like that of the Collapse.

The Altarans also have shamans that advise the chieftain, on if his decision will please the Gods. The shamans have a main role in the government.

[hider=Location on the Map] [img]http://i.imgur.com/NFrfDRn.jpg[/img][/hider]

History before the Collapse: Many Shamans have kept writings of their history.

The Beginning- A small camp in the middle of the woods, gradually expanding, because of new additions to the group. They soon moved, out onto the plains, to support the growing quantity of people. They then began to grow, and create an economy. They raised their walls, sharpened their swords and prepared to conquer. They were ready, now, to be remembered in history.

Growing- After the move into the plains, they conquered to the west. --Lost In The Collapse-- now with a total of 400 they decided to conquer more into the West. They fought a strong clan, loosing many in the battle, but rose with a victory. --Lost In The Collapse--

A Great Clan- Now, 950 strong, they began to --Lost In The Collapse-- The gods were pleased with the decision, and then, rain was granted to them, great, crop-growing rain. --Lost In The Collapse-- Now at the mountains, they were rich with minerals, and at that point, they started to grow more, until that was interrupted by the Collapse.

Survival Legend: Told by a shaman... 
The Emergency Bells rang, and many called out, "To the docks! Get to the docks!" The tide rose, waves rising, and crashing upon the rocks. The rain clouds came in, blocking out the sun, and showering us constantly with heavy drops. The docks became wet and slippery, and many fell into the water, or rocks, and breaking bones. Trees fell, smashing in buildings, and killing so many. When I finally left the island, it was worse. Lightning, and thunder. Huge waves bringing the boats down, under the sea, to the Gods. When a wave crashed onto our boat, a bucket hit me on the head, knocking me out. When I awoke, the storm had calmed, and we were arriving upon an island, The Exile, they called it, our new home.

History Since: They soon grew, not to the extent that they were at before, but not far behind. With fertile land, they grew food, with small mountains, and ghats, they had minerals. And soon they made a true home in the Exile, a true Altara.
 
Other: Will ad as RP goes on.[/hider]