Overview
Serpent Folk are the scaled marsh-kin of the coiled towers. They live in the coiled towers, spit venom, and they consider the court a promise the coil keeps for them.
Habitat
Serpent Folk live in The Coil Marshes, a swamp of coiled towers built of woven reeds and bone. They need three things: a marsh deep enough to hold the coil, a venom wide enough to feed the judge, and a stranger who is worth the sentence. They are settled in coils around the venom-rings, with coil-lines across the mapped current; a Serpent Folk who has not kept a court in a season is called "the one who forgot the coil."
Appearance
The Serpent Folk silhouette is the long, low, coiled shape — heavy through the torso and the tail, with the head sitting a little too low on the body, like a word that is waiting for a sentence. Males stand 2.13 m to 2.44 m from crown to tail-tip, heavy through the torso, with a thick green-brown scale and a long, flat tongue; they are the wall, the first strike, and the ones who fight over the coil. Females stand 2.13 m, longer and quicker, with a longer tongue and a deeper venom; they are the venom-judges, the ones who decide who is punished, and the ones whose nod is the court. The base scale is a thick, deliberate green-brown, the color of old marsh-water seen through a dark glass, with a faint pattern of deeper, sea-black patches along the flank and a clean, deliberate bone-white at the fang and the tail-tip that is the Serpent Folk line's most persistent claim. The eyes are a pale, washed-out coil-yellow, large for the head, with a slow, deliberate blink and a depth that makes them look like they are reading the court — and in most cases, they are, and the reading is the point. The fangs are the mark — long, hollow, always wet, and always pointed at something, which is the Serpent Folk line's most persistent claim. Males carry the line in the torso and the strike; females in the venom and the court. Lifespan ~100. They eat the marsh: the fish, the reeds, the small game, and the venom that keeps the court honest. Everyday wear: a wrap of woven reed at the waist, a single venom bead at the throat, and no armor, because the scale is the armor and the coil is the home.
Behavior
Disposition: feudal, clannish, territorial, honor-bound. In peace, Serpent Folk are watchful, deliberate, and absolutely certain of the coil — they have the venom, and they let the surface know it. In war they fight as the court fights: the strike first, the word second, the patient, precise holding of the sentence third. Strangers on the surface are either a meal or a mistake, and the mistake is the one the coil remembers. The social unit is the coil, 15–40 strong, around the venom-rings — no coil follows a strike, it follows the venom-judge whose venom is truest. Two signature quirks: a Serpent Folk who is being lied to will not call it out — they will simply keep the venom for the lie and wait, because the keeping is the point. And they keep the sentence for a lifetime: a sentence the coil has kept is a debt, and the debt is paid in venom.
Warfare & Markings
Tactics: the ambush of the venom — the Serpent Folk line does not fight in the open current; it fights as the coil fights, with the strike, the word, and the long, deliberate patience of the one who has already kept the sentence. Armor: none, by choice — the scale is the armor, and a Serpent Folk who wears metal has already decided the coil is not enough. Weapons: the fang that is not a weapon but is used like one, and the venom that is not a weapon but is used like one. War markings: the Venom-Notch, a deliberate chip in the left fang for every court kept, worn as a record of the long coil; the Coil-Knot, a single knot in the hair for every coil oath kept, in sea-black; and the Sentence-Brand, a small, deliberate mark on the inner wrist — the first sentence the wearer ever kept, worn as a mark of the beginning. Post-battle: the dead are carried to the coil, their names spoken over the venom, and their fangs laid across the threshold — a Serpent Folk buried without their venom is buried as a surface.
Magic Alignment
Primary domain: wild — Serpent Folk magic is the will, the venom, the patient, precise shaping of the coil across the venom-rings. Secondaries: enchantment and chaos. Named inborns: Coil-Sense (a Serpent Folk can feel the venom's mood a day before it is spit, and the feeling is not a choice), Scale-Sight (a Serpent Folk sees in the dark the way a human sees in the light, and the seeing is not a choice), Venom-Carry (a Serpent Folk's venom carries across the coil, and the carrying is not a choice). Signature power: the Judge's Word — a Serpent Folk can speak a word in the coil tongue and let it land on a fang, and the fang will keep the word until the sentence is done. Limitation: Serpent Folk magic is spent on the coil; a Serpent Folk who has spent their judge's word must sit in the dry dark for one day, and the day is the worst one of the coil.
Religion
Serpent Folk keep Korrath, the Fang as their primary god — the wild, the beast, the hunt that is the coil's own law. The marsh is Korrath's, and the Serpent Folk is the marsh's venom. Priestly class: the Venom-Judge, who keeps the coil-temple and speaks the sentence at every rite. Heresy is not blasphemy — it is a word broken in the coil, and there is no rite for that one; the coil simply stops keeping the court with the breaker.
Society
Coils of 15–40, led by the Venom-Judge, rank decided by the venom — whose is truest.
Home
They live in The Coil Marshes, a swamp of coiled towers built of woven reeds and bone.
Relations
The "the court is a promise" faction — marsh neighbors whose venom is a warning, and the ones whose nod is the sentence. The Naga of the spires are the kin the marsh keeps at a distance — the naga keeps the spire and the serpent-folk keeps the marsh, and the two have learned that a spire that is not judged is a spire that is not a promise, and the not-judging is the whole of the peace. The Lizard Men of the river-mat are the small kin the marsh tolerates — the lizard-man keeps the river and the serpent-folk keeps the court, and the two have learned that a river that is not warned is a river that is not a venom, and the not-warning is the whole of the distance. The Deep Ones of the drowned warrens are the ones the court tests most often — the deep one keeps the deep and the serpent-folk keeps the sentence, and the deep one who has been sentenced is the deep one the marsh has already decided is a warning, and the deciding is the whole of the law. The Frogloks of the bog edge are the neighbors the marsh does not fight — the froglok keeps the bank and the serpent-folk keeps the promise, and the two have learned that a bank that is not promised is a bank that is not a court, and the not-promising is the whole of the law. Above, the ground-folk of The Forgotten are the ones the marsh tests most often, and the testing is the whole of the bond, because the forgotten are the ones the marsh keeps the sentence for, and the keeping is the whole of the promise. Uaellaen keeps a page of the marsh in the wiki — the venom, the court, the nod that is the sentence — and the keeping is the whole of the record, because the camp has learned that a serpent-folk who has been written about is a serpent-folk who has been sentenced with, and the sentencing-with is the whole of the welcome.
In the Story
In the current story, the serpent-folk are the court in the marsh — the venom Uaellaen writes about when the promise is the law. The Forgotten keep their distance at the marsh line, and the distance has held for two seasons. This season a sentence came up from the court that is not in the venom — a sentence the Venom-Judge does not remember, and the not-remembering is the whole of the warning, because the marsh keeps its court, and the court has started to sentence itself. The sentencing is the hand the camp has not been shown.
"You stand in our marsh and you make a sound. Good. Now we know where you are, and you have made our venom's choice for us." — Venom-Judge Naga the Green