Zulu was born the twelfth son of a desert warchief, the leader of the nomadic tribe. They were raiders. It was a way of life for the region. Each tribe took and was taken from. Attacked and was attacked. Killed and was killed.
Zulu's father, however, broke the balance. He was an exceptionally gifted tactician, and during an unexpected summer campaign, he lead his small horde to victory against its strongest rivals, and those clans were integrated into his own.
In a handful of years, Zulu's father was the brutal, uncivilized king of the desert, the lord of a massive horde of warrior tribesmen.
Zulu and his brothers and sisters were born, two or three to each of the warchief's wives.
Eventually, the warchief was approached by the kings of city-states, and each offered more than the last to wage war against his enemies. The warchief and his horde grew rich, trading the traditional nomadic life for the walls of the cities.
Half of his life having been spent in the desert, Zulu now found himself cast into a sea of palaces and temples, alien cultures and alien religions now forced upon him.
His father, his siblings, and the horde grew decadent and docile. The mere threat of the horde was enough to bring an enemy to its knees, so its warrior culture began to decay. In time, those of the horde grew increasingly corrupt, their very souls growing black and twisted.
Zulu's mother, however, would not allow herself or her offspring (Zulu alone) to do the same. She sent Zulu to formally study war, while also keeping elders of the tribe in her household to teach him the old ways. This continued for several years.
During this time, Zulu developed his own beliefs about the world. He rejected the violence of his ancestors. In shadowed corners in the dead of night, amphorae of wine shared between them, Zulu and others discussed such illustrious concepts as "freedom" and "democracy," drawing up ambitious philosophic codes, none of them ever going far.
Eventually, Zulu's mother confronted the warchief about the shameful state of the horde. In response the warchief, having years ago grown bored of this particular wife, had her beheaded and strung up as an example to any enemy who would seek to use his family against him.
When Zulu learned of this, his immediate reaction was to nod his head and continue about his day. His thoughts, however, turned to cold, calculated revenge.
A month later, Zulu fled from the city, leaving behind in the warchief's bedchamber a sack full of the heads of every siblings whom he believed had grown corrupt and evil.
It was a message that only the warchief understood. In times long past, when a warrior sought to depose the tribal chief, the warrior would present the chief with the head of the chief's father, brother, or son. It was a declaration of intent.
For now, Zulu has struck out into the world to try to bring to life the philosophies he's mulled over for years. One such tenant is the eradication of corruption and evil, and the refusal to let any such thing take hold in the lands of mortal men.
One day he will return to the warchief and take back the honor of the Ancestors. Until then, high adventure awaits.
