Ruminating on "What is a Doviello City?" and BCalchet's musings on Sheaim society, I've been wondering what it is like for women living in different societies around Erebus. If their history is anything like ours, then women across the civilizations have probably put up with some dumb-assed things. How do you imagine the role of sex in certain societies? Where is sex not even an issue? Are there any dwarven women? I'm interested to see this explored. TheWyrm, I'm especially anxious to hear from you about the Balseraphs, being their ambassador to Real Life and all. I got here by thinking about Mahala, and what it must be like to be a Doviellan woman. Here's what I jotted down at work: Spoiler : An abrupt hush fell over the tundra. The warriors stood stunned, some overtaken by fear, but most by hate. They had always assumed that there were no rules on the battlefield, but now they realized that there was at least one, and it was being broken. It was something none of them had ever imagined, let alone seen. There was a woman in the ranks. “Are you lost, doe?” a man yelled over the silence. The air lightened as their anger turned to mockery of a similar degree of malice. “You’re missing some weaponry!” “That’s an axe, not a babe!” “Would you like to hold my javelin instead?” Mahala didn’t move. She didn’t smile or sneer, and made eye contact with no one. The men glared at her as hard as they could. They had never been so full of adrenaline and not currently killing anybody. “Sow, what are you doing here?!” shouted a battlemaster. “Maybe her fields are fallow!” The men roared with laughter after every insult, but quickly quieted up in expectation of some response from the misplaced woman. War was for men. Sometimes a woman would be allowed to scout for food, but only if she could serve no purpose in the tents. She turned slowly, changing the horde’s focus to the small village down the hill. The villagers had cowered into their homes as soon as the army topped the hill, and they were no doubt very confused about still being alive. One man cautiously opened his door and peered out. He walked into his yard, staring up at the stationary group. He glanced back at his home, gestured to someone, shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders. Mahala, with her back straight and her shoulders square, walked to the nearest javelin thrower and took his weapon from him. The man gave a stark look, but grinned when he realized that she could only embarrass herself. She faced the village, then burst into a run. With natural athleticism she launched the javelin into the sky. All heads watched as it fell, pinning the curious villager to the ground through his gut. She turned to her fellow marauders and with a wild leer she declared: “First blood.” Grabbing her axe, she ran down the hill to fulfill the villagers’ expectations. The men behind her did all they could to keep up. A simple view of women--for them, and for me to write about. Maybe it will whet your appetite for her promised entry. I can't wait to find out who she is.