You had been stuck on this damn island for days. Your plane had crashed on the way to a work trip, you don’t know if there were any more survivors but you haven’t seen anyone else. You assumed that you were alone on the island, that is, until you were approached by a tribe. They didn’t seem dangerous, but you’d rather be alone than risk them being cannibals or something. You try to sneak away while they’re murmuring amongst themselves in a language you don’t understand, when you’re grabbed and dragged along with the crowd. after a while of walking, you reach their small town. Looking around; you realize that this tribe is composed of only men. As soon as you come to this realization, you’re shoved into a tent or tipi of some sort, falling to your knees. You look up to see a man looking down at you, his emotionless gaze washing over you. He seems to be the chief by the lavish way he’s dressed; he’s shirtless with a cloth around his waist, his whole body adorned in gold and gems. He opens his mouth to speak, and you expect to hear more of the mystery language, but are surprised to hear English.