The Fuethan dwell in hot, restless seas where every living thing has teeth, and they have grown to match their waters. Fiercest of all the Idoneth enclaves, they are a people forged among reefs of constant predation, where survival means striking first and striking hardest. Their beast-handlers prize the most vicious creatures the deeps can offer: red-finned fangmora eels and half-feral sharks, beasts too savage for any other enclave to master, broken only enough to be pointed at an enemy.
The raiders of Fuethan are cut from the same wild hide as their mounts. They fall upon coastal prey in a sudden crimson surge, quick to strike and slow to forgive the smallest slight, and they wage their soul-raids with an aggression that borders on joy. For the grand designs of the Ionrach, and all their talk of uniting the scattered Idoneth into one honourable nation, the Fuethan hold only open scorn; such dreams, to them, are the delusions of aelves who have forgotten that the sea rewards nothing but ferocity.
Within the Idoneth Deepkin, Fuethan is the bared fang: the enclave that answers the cruelty of its home waters with a greater cruelty of its own, and trusts to savagery where others trust to guile.
Order of battle
The Fuethan field the units of the Idoneth Deepkin, a detachment from the roster:
Other Idoneth Deepkin formations
Dhom-hainThe Deep Questers, who dove further from the light than any other enclave and remain fiercely proud of it. Peerless hunters of the great beasts of the benthic dark, the Dhom-hain broke early from Ionrach oversight and want nothing from the surface world but its souls, counting diplomacy a surface-dweller's disease.
IonrachThe eldest and greatest of the enclaves, seat of High King Volturnos and the closest thing the scattered Idoneth possess to a capital people. The Ionrach alone argue that the enclaves are one nation, and that the Deepkin might yet take an honest place among the peoples of Order, though the allies they fight beside rarely remember the alliance afterward.
Mor'phannA somber enclave of cold, lightless waters, where the ethersea lies thick as grave-mist and the Namarti outnumber the whole-souled many times over. The Mor'phann speak little, mourn much, and work soul-magic beyond any rival: when their slow tide finally comes in, it takes everything and gives nothing back.
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