Erectus has Company (IC, Some-Reboot, Open Sign-ups)

[Kratu]

It is the year 1,800,000 BCE, and a strange new creature is rising to power in Eastern Africa. Descended from a long line of ground-dwelling apes, it is called Homo Erectus. It uses primitive speech to communicate with other members of its species, it hunts and kills other animals using sharp tools and sticks, it is beginning to harness fire and so much more. Its large brain is always thinking of new uses for things and new ways to survive in the dangerous African savannah and without its brain it would be defenceless. With no horns, claws or teeth, only its quick thinking and the tools it can invent keep it alive, and this is driving them to become even more industrious and intelligent. In fact, it is the smartest creature alive.

Or so it thought.

Around the globe other species are evolving that match it in intelligence. Some are also apes, but others are bizarre humanoid forms of the strangest creatures imaginable. They too are fighting in a constant battle for survival, and like the Homo Erectus they need their brains to keep them alive.
Why not create your own sentient being and guide it to either a horrible extinction or complete global domination? It will not be easy, but everybody has a chance to succeed in this cruel, cruel world...
(Credit to Sebtopiaris for the original RP & Story)

The Rules:
-No Flame-baiting or Trolling
-No OOC in the IC
-No One Liners
-No Metagaming or Godmodding

Link to OOC: viewtopic.php?f=31&t=320701

[Kratu]

Near Lake Missoula, Modern Day Montana

Several Amerinds stalked through the forest gripping their hand axes tightly as they approached the large elk. A twig broke and the elk swung its head towards the hunters, they stopped for a moment and waited. Their prey went back to munching on it food. By now they were but 10 feet away from the majestic beast. They loosed a howl that struck the fear of the spirit into the animal, several of them sprinted towards the animal and before the elk could react they thrust the blades into the elk hacking and slashing at the beast. They then dragged the animal back to the rest of the tribe where they were preparing for a feast of massive pre portions. The juices of the beast crackled and hissed as they dripped onto the fire. Tonight they feasted for tomorrow they would move to the east out onto the plains where food was even more plentiful than it was here.

[Seno Zhou Varada]

South Korea, Korean Peninsula

The Zekari went above the ground in the trees. A squirrel ran out of it's hiding spot only to be caught by a paw and killed. The Zekari held the animal in it's mouth while running back to the pack. Not many animals remained here after the recent bear migration. Sadly food was short and they would have to hunt some no matter the danger. They gathered around one of the females and her cubs, 2 on the ground 4 in the trees. They growled to intimidate them with the cubs moving towards their mother in fear. Then 2 leaped off their trees and bit the mother with the ones on the ground charging as well. With one swipe of her paw one of the Zekari nearly flew with a large wound on it's side. The cubs attempted to run but the other 2 caught them and killed them with a few well placed bites. The mother tried to get the Zekari off her but she was no match now. The Zekari bit, clawed, and whacked her with their tails until she dropped dead. The wounded one soon died from the wound and the rest of the hunting party grabbed their kills and pulled them back to the pack where they would be eaten and the bones would be used to make the dens safer. The pups played under the moonlight with mock fights, climbing competitions, and other such things. Migration however would be needed as the bears came to the North or the large lake to try and make it to the great island.

[Krytonus]

Ireland

"Domaile." Home.
An older Alumnai spoke out amongst the group. Small, primitive huts, arranged in a crude circle. Cows had been fenced off in small fields behind the circle, and in one corner stood a fenced off area for chickens. They did not share much language. In fact, this one Alum had just created the word. Another grunted a reply.
"Do.. Domaile."
"Domaile."
More spoke out, repeating the word with approval. The leader of the group, a tall male took a step forwards and grunted.
"Domaile."

[Ashtan]

In a small clearing of a steamy Vietnamese jungle

A small group of young Rajamala crowd around their father, Klaos, as he tells the story of his adventure.

"There I was..." Klaos begins. "In the face of a wild boar. He stood 4 feet for hoof to shoulder and had 8 inch gleaming tusks, dripping with thick, soupy saliva. Even from where I stood I could smell its breath, fiery with the blood of its past victims. In its eyes, I could see the rageful hunger of bloodlust as it bore daggers through me. I had nowhere to go, the roar of a large waterfall behind me prevented any escape. One slip, and I would fall to a watery grave."

"Ooohhh," the adolescents reply as they edge closer, eager to hear the rest of the story.

"The boar blew steam out of its mucus filled nostrils and charged. I just barely moved out of the way and gave it a glancing blow across its brown, hairy backside. My claws gleamed red with some of its blood. However, I did not escape entirely unscathed...."

He turned sideways so they could see the scar on his forearm that slashed through the orange-with-black-stripes fur that was customary of their species. It was a raw and angry thing and as Klaos licks at it, he wets the dried, encrusted blooded surrounding it.

"Eww"

"That's nasty."

"Are you alright??"

Klaos smiles and nods before continuing with the story.

"For 3 hours did we battle, me and that boar. And for three hours did we both evade killing blows. However, I had something that boar didn't..." He pauses for effect, eliciting a myriad of groans from the surrounding youngsters.

"What did you have?"

"Yea, what did you have?!?"

"Fine, fine." Klaos relents. "You kids always ruin a good story, hehe."

"Where was I? Oh," he begins again. "I had something that boar didn't, and that something was Creativity....

"Creativity?"

"What's that?"

"Can you eat it?"

"I don't think it would taste very good....it doesn't sound very good."

"No, no, no." Klaos says, shaking his head at the confused youngsters. "You can't eat it, but each and every single one of you have it."

"We do?"

"Everyone, but you."

"I'll show you!"

And with that, all of them started wrestling, biting and scratching. Klaos watched them for a minute before breaking it up.

"Break it up, break it up...." He called as he pushed each of them apart. "Don't you guys wanna hear the rest of the story?"

That got their attention and they quickly settled back in a semicircle around Klaos, albeit with some pushing and shoving.

"Ok," Klaos began again. "Because of our innate creativity, I was able to trick the boar into running into a nearby tree. The force of the impact caused its tusks to sink 5 inches deep into the wood. While it was dazed, I rushed up to it and grabbed it by the throat with my teeth, crushing its windpipe. In a frenzy it jerked back and uprooting the tree. I was thrown off, but its frenzy was short-lived. Its air-deprived brain finally told the rest of its body that it was dead and the beast finally stumbled once, twice, and fell dead. I carried it here and your mother took it...."

He trailed off as Lorian, his beautiful, silvery-black furred wife smiled at him, carrying the cooked boar with her.

"Dinner's ready!" She called.

"Yay!" The kids shouted in unison, scrambling towards their mother and completely forgetting the story.

She grinned mischievously at her husband's indignant look at her abrupt removal of his audience. He shrugged and walked over to join the family as they tore off chunks of the felled beast.

After dinner, and with full bellies, the family curled up underneath each other and promptly fell asleep. All except Klaos who stared at the twinkling stars once more before kissing his wife on the neck and closing his eyes as well.

[Mondrova]

The forests of Northern Tuscany were in glorious bloom, the natural clock of time having ticked over into the Spring in a sea of budding flowers. The sweet scent of newly emerging flora filled the air, hinting at the fruits to come; in the air, the sounds of a splendid orchestra reverberated in a myriad of gentle birds songs, calls of mothers to their young, and soft trickles of newly warmed rivers. The grass shone a bright green, standing upright until crushed under foot my curious bear bubs and Bambi's, babes all guided by their watchful mothers. New leaves had begun to appear, and in the camouflage, tree climbers reemerged, while the birds up so high continued in their constant hunt. A whole world was coming back to life at the advent of the breeding season. Hibernation's were over, and in clearings illuminated by golden white light animals began on the next phase of their life, always vigilant for both prey and predators.

With good reason are they watchful, for generations of families and flocks still remembered the dangers of their world, the peculiar predators that talk them. Not just the wandering wolves or dashing falcons, armed with only simple wits, but another beast. With sharp claws and serrated mandibles, crushing strength and an all new intelligence, these predators were the greatest of all. They are always hidden, and they too are always watching, waiting for the moment to strike out and end their pray. These are the Malatira.

Though they do not just exist within the Forests of Tuscany, they are spread for miles in Italia and Southern France, and even the isles near the coasts. Yet, as it happens, of all great colonies with their ruling Queens, the largest collective exists in the Tuscan region. By pure coincidence, a variety of Malatiran hives had founded themselves within a close range to one another, and being an aggressive species, trouble was bound to happen; over the course of months these groups had all come under the rule of the Queen of what, in the Malatira tongue, would be the Paleia Hive. As the hive grew though, its demands increased, and the young spawned annually sharply rose, further calling for more labors from the workers. So now, the forests of Tuscany shall learn an unfortunate lesson: a hungry Malatira hive does little for animal populations.

---

In the clearing of the forest emerged a small herd of dear, numbering perhaps twelve in total with their young. They were an isolated bunch as of now, not having formed into a larger group as was happening with other flocks in the area. Yet, so far, they had remained unhindered by the fact, now sunning themselves and gently eating the sweet grasses of the new season, drinking calmly from the small stream nearby. There ears were pricked, always ready to pick up trouble, but their hearts beat with a constant beat: a relaxing morning. However, despite the serenity of the scene, it was all to turn to nightmares. For they were not alone.

For hours now, a group over eighteen Malatira had been stalking the flock. Three warriors and fifteen workers, they were a deadly bunch to run across, but were no match for the speed of the deer. Thus necessitating the tried and trued method of hunting they now employed. Being camouflaged in the foliage, and able to move with surprising silence, they slowly approached their targets. Forming an ever tightening circle, they would enclose upon the deer from all sides and then set them off, herding them about as they continued to draw in their circle, until the carnage begins.

The preparations were now complete, and so one of them, chosen before, broke a branch, and rustled the nearby leaves. The sound immediately drew the attention of all the deer, who began to run as the chosen Malatira charged forward. As they sprinted though, the other Malatira emerged, their encircling strategy well implemented. The deer, terrified of oncoming death, began to sprint about widely, running in an ever tightening way as the predators drew inwards. Then, suddenly, a pair of mother attempted to dart out with their young, heading towards a slightly larger gap between two Malatira than elsewhere. They had no change though. The Malatira are no speedy predator when moving, but their lunge is unmatched; as the deer grew near their reapers, they shot out at break-neck speed. Their bladed upper arms dug into the mothers, as their spines trapped them in place. The lower arms meanwhile, pierced into the chest and underside of the creatures, popping open their lungs and hearts within moments. The young, startled, split up, on staying put and being immediately slaughtered, the other dashing away only to be pounced upon by a recently maneuvered Manatira, their pathetic cries quickly silenced.

By now, the rest of the pack was in absolute disarray, and all began a blind charge for freedom. It lasted perhaps a minute or so, after which the field was covered in blood, and the forest was silenced. The death cries had all ended, and all other signs of life had vacated. The Manatira were left with their gory prizes, and began collecting the corpses to carry back to the hive. It was a good haul, but more was always needed, and the Queen did not like to be kept waiting. With stoic silence and grunting effort, they lifted their prey over their shoulders, the few without taking the flanks for security, and began returning home before starting all over again.