Circle of Tongues

The Circle of Tongues is the guiding council of the Enclave—composed not of rulers, but of elders, seers, and visionaries among the Awakened. They are the ones whose claws have scraped the stone of the tunnels for decades, who have outwitted traps and surface dwellers alike, and who have seen enough to know that survival depends not on strength alone, but on cunning, memory, and unity.

Each member of the Circle earned their place not through combat or force, but through acts of lasting impact: uncovering ancient truths about the Awakening, saving whole cliques from surface raids, forging alliances with other underground forces, or guiding the Enclave through disaster with wisdom and foresight. A seat in the Circle is not taken, but offered—by unanimous call of all other members. It is a mantle of burden, not pride.

The Circle of Tongues holds to a central belief:

“We did not ask for thought, but it came. Now we choose what to do with it.”

They see the Enclave not merely as a resistance force, but as a living organism—ever adapting, shedding, growing, and learning. To them, the tunnels are not just shelter, but a womb from which a new people is being born: not human, not beast, but Awakened.

They reject hierarchy in the human sense, viewing leadership as a shared burden rather than a prize. Though they are powerful, the Circle's authority depends entirely on trust and respect—if they fail to serve, the Enclave can remove them through collective consensus.

We are the echo in the pipes, the story in the stone. Forget us, and you forget yourself.

— The Circle of Tongues

Structure

• The Circle has no fixed number of members, but it is usually between five and nine. The number fluctuates based on need, loss, or consensus.
• Meetings are held in a small conference room. It is a small and humble space. Enough to serve its purpose and nothing more.
• Decisions are made by consensus, not vote. Long silences, dream-sharing, and poetic metaphors are common forms of communication within the Circle.

Culture

The culture of the Circle of Tongues is one of deep introspection, layered communication, and reverence for wisdom earned through suffering. Silence is not absence but presence; a pause in speech often holds more weight than words themselves. Members value nuance, memory, and metaphor, frequently speaking in riddles, shared dreams, or fragmented songs that only make sense when pieced together communally. They believe that truth is rarely singular and that understanding often lies beneath the first meaning. The Circle teaches that leadership is not dominance, but the art of listening to the many voices within a single body—both the literal enclave and the spiritual self. Their rituals emphasize legacy over ego, and no decision is made without first considering its echo generations ahead. While outsiders may see them as cryptic or slow, among the Enclave, they are the beating heart of continuity, carrying the scars and stories that make survival more than instinct—it becomes identity.

Public Agenda

The Circle of Tongues seeks to preserve the ancient knowledge of the Enclave and ensure that no voice—past, present, or silenced—is ever truly lost. Their agenda centers on influencing decisions through careful guidance rather than overt control, embedding truths in stories and planting seeds of thought that take root over time. They aim to prevent cultural erosion, resist the Doctors efforts for a cure, and prepare the Enclave to survive not just the present conflict, but the erasure of memory that often follows. Through prophecy, diplomacy, and ritual, they guard the soul of their people.

Voices in the Dark, Wisdom in the Blood

Founding Date

100

Type

Government, Leadership

Alternative Names

The Speakers

Demonym

Elders

Founders

• Garru

Parent Organization

Enclave

Location

Camp Hope

Related Species

• The Awakened

You duck through a narrow arch of rusted pipe and moss-covered stone, the torchlight behind you dimming as you step into the chamber. The room isn’t large, but it feels immense—heavy with silence and stories. You feel them before you see them: a presence, prickling at the edge of instinct. The Circle of Tongues sits coiled in the gloom, five figures arranged in a loose crescent on raised platforms of broken brick and scavenged planks. They are all different—fur, feather, fang, scale—but there’s something ancient about each one, something in the way their eyes follow you. No one speaks at first. A rat the size of a dog, its gray fur shot through with white, tilts its head and taps its claws together in rhythm. A scarred badger dips its muzzle once, the gesture oddly ceremonial. Behind them, a great owl stirs, silent as smoke.

Then the air shifts—thick with meaning, not words—and you realize: they’re not just watching. They’re listening. Listening to your breath, your footsteps, the rustle of your fear. When they finally speak, it's not one voice, but many—layered like echoes through a hollow pipe, full of age, memory, and warning.

“Come closer,” the chorus says, “and speak your truth. We remember everything.”