A Strange World :: Civilization's Dawn (IC/Closed)

by **Saxony-Brandenburg** » Mon Sep 24, 2018 7:46 pm

The Honori People
Celebrations in the wake of Miracles

The night's tension was cut, with one great and full swoop, as the Shamaness returned from the home where the birth took place. In her arms, there was a crying baby boy. Crying! It was a miracle to all those, as a healthy child hadn't been born in over thirty winters for the Honori People. Many wept, some sang, some prayed. All seemed to be well for the Honori people, as life moved onwards towards the sun. The night would be lit with a great, glorious fire, as all gathered round to hold the child, and present him with various gifts. He was given the little carvings they had made, even little grass dolls to hold and stare at in wonder. They passed around sweet roasted Assurush, and decorated themselves and where the baby's bedspot with flowers, and danced until the sun arose upon the eastern horizon once again.

For the first time in years, Yuni stepped down from the hilltop, and laughed. She had been walking with her trusted friend and companion, Shanti, as they talked about their childhoods together. It was light, in stark contrast to what was to come. They had agreed to one thing- Yuni would never again give birth. Her womb was seemingly cursed, cursed with some evil spirit that plagued her and whatever child she hoped to bear. Shanti had somehow convinced Suki to become his Uniux, a concept similar to a spouse in Honori culture, but much less concrete. They had decided to seek children, and although Yuni was saddened by the prospect of never sleeping with her one love again, she was happy for their prospects together. And so, they departed ways. Yuni went to the river and fields to tend the great stalks that arose from the ground- repairing the channels of water trickling and breathing life into the crop, removing any stray weeds, and cutting away stems that no longer bore the Rush.

Meanwhile, at the Obelisk, the two workers continued their struggle, carving the stone with the simple tools they had upon them. A simple hammer, made of a tough gray stone, and a sharp chisel of sorts made of flint. They shaped them, stacked them, and bound them together in a way much more sophisticated than had been seen before in Honori culture. And, as they reached higher into the sky, they hoped the Gods of Sun and Moon, might see their great offering, and continue their stream of blessings down unto their children, as merciful as they are cruel. Both Shanti and Juli knew the strangeness of their ambition, a long and thin pillar into the sky? It was anything but orthodox or practical. But, their work almost enchanted them in it's absurdity. Here they were, doing something their people had never done before. Maybe this would get their divine protector's attention, and be enough for them and their grace.

Homa, in her elder ways, was tired. Exhausted even. Her desperate attempts to aid those around her had, -somewhat- paid off, as the new boy would seem as healthy as ever when she went to attend to him every day. With a new sense in drive and accomplishment, she continued her work, and day in and day out she left to go gather more herbs and learn new remedies to their ailments. Shanti and Suki were planning on receiving a child of their own, while Arki needed treatment for her birthing-illness. She seemed to never rest, and worked herself into the ground, nigh obsessively, with the one goal- protecting the lives of her friends, family, and the generations they would create.

by **The Grim Reaper** » Tue Sep 25, 2018 4:48 am

Lyov, Firsthome

"And so, with a slice of the log, the rotation of the wheel allows it to keep moving forward, as if it were falling down over and over again, rather than being stopped by the earth and soil."

The Sundsvar child looked blankly at Lyov, who had for almost an hour been speaking more to himself than to the infant that looked at him. He had already forgotten why he had chosen to speak to a baby, but it was largely an irrelevant question at this point. Nevertheless, he congratulated the child for its attentative disposition before ending his lecture.

For the past few days, he had been busying himself with learning the craft of the woodsman. Not to any great length; all he required was a basic understanding of the industry, to pursue the fabrication of a simple prototype. He had come to understand, of course, that the efficiency of the wheel should be primarily governed by the evenness of its shape in profile. No particular skill would be required to give the sufficient consistency against its shortest dimension, beyond a general grasp of the skill required to work wood. Having developed a general principle, Lyov had committed himself to its application in a useful manner, and he already could picture a world of rotations.

There were two things that he intended to, somehow, bring together - the wheel, and the canoe. The former was easy, having already been established, and the latter trivial. It was the bridge that would be the step from an observation to an invention. A bridge that would, some day, be known as the 'axle'.

He borrowed one of the copper axes that the tribe had once used as its mainstay tool, now sidelined for the awesome efficiency of bronze. Seeking out a single oak tree to fell of reasonably moderate girth and limited height, Lyov had made a habit of trying to limit his use of the expendable portion of the tribe's communal resources, and he decided to continue this trend in pursuing his esoteric exploits. Not being fit enough to move a whole tree on his own, he decided to make the task easier by working the tree in place where it fell. His considerable experience as a wanderer, he hoped, had not totally departed him in the past year or two, and he figured he could stil easily camp alone within the immediate surrounds of Firsthome - he made a mental note to develop the skill further in future. Before expeditioning out yet again, he decided to test his techniques within the safety of Firsthome, to try and resolve what issues he could immediately, using a smaller piece of lumber from a young tree he could move alone.

Using a copper axe to split wood was as easy as he had any right to hope, but he quickly realised it didn't give him the precision he would need for an effective prototype. He had already established that rounder logs rolled better than uneven logs, and whilst the axe was a good failsafe, he needed something that was easier to work with. The large oak trees that Lyov hoped to be able to use in the field would necessitate substantial processing, to remove the knots and bark that marked them out as venerable forest denizens. The swinging action of the axe made it difficult to control. However, he knew the tribe also had another type of tool, used in part for driving wood into the ground, like posts and stockades - the hammer. The axe could be used precisely, carefully, close to the material being worked, but the swinging action was necessary to allow for the force that was necessary to effectively remove wood. Working too lightly would cause the wood to splinter, and would lead to the metal head being deflected by the resistance of the wood, creating an even worse product in the end. Lyov quickly realised that this could be resolved by using two separate tools. In the one hand, an axe would be put against the wood, and in the other, a hammer would be used to deliver the force generally supplied by the swinging axe. Conceptually, it was identical to driving a post into the ground. Of course, the axe was not particularly good - or even acceptable - for the job. Lyov needed a flat edge, a chisel, which he decided to attempt to either fabricate himself, or to enlist assistance in fabricating. He hoped to make it of bronze, if only for the experience of working with bronze.

For now, Lyov persevered with an axe and a piece of cattle bone, which would help to protect the integrity of the axe in contrast to a metal hammer, working with a younger tree closer to the village.

Now came the real thrust of the project - to do something useful.

The motion of the wheel made it difficult to achieve the central provocation of his theorycrafting; that is, to harness whatever laws of the universe allowed the canoe to achieve what men alone could not. The Hvasskyn used logs as rollers in place, along which things could be shifted, but that was useless to him unless he was to build a highway of rollers across the world itself. This would be no better than simply using the river. The wheel needed to be affixed not to the earth, but to the load. And yet, if it was, surely it would not rotate?

The lumber Lyov was working with was of a limited size, constrained by Lyov's access to wood and tools, but it would do as a prototype. He considered the canoe itself, and quickly concluded that having a single wheel was not useful. Having seen the Hvasskyn use their rollers at length, it was obvious to him that balance was crucial to effective movement - once the tree came off-centre, it was a struggle to bring it back to its original path. The canoe, too, was only steady at speed, well out of the shallows, or laden, otherwise easily overturned upon contact with the beach or rough waters, and had to be carefully balanced to ensure that its weight was evenly distributed over the water's surface. Practically, trying to balance a load on a single shortened wheel would be improbable, and affixing it to the wheel properly nearly impossible for Lyov to achieve. He could have the load situated upon a single roller, but this too would be difficult to achieve practically. No, Lyov felt he must have the load rest between two wheels.

With a bow-drill, Lyov realised he could core two wheels, making a hole in between them within which a piece of wood could be thrust and fixed. This formed something of a singular shaped roller, broken apart and reconstituted, but loads could be fixed to the axle without interfering with the motion of the wheels, as would be required by a full size roller. He would build a frame around the fixed wheel-and-axle, allowing the axle to float within the frame, thus giving it the freedom to rotate, while extending the frame out to be pulled by human force. He did not have a strong grasp of woodworking yet, but he hoped to either find a joint that would allow him to build a right angle into his cart, or to use a frame that curved up, saving on the weight of wood by having the substance of the cart being weaved-wicker around the wooden frame, effectively making it a basket.

Now, he had a plan.

Lyov: Develop the wheel-and-axle, in application to a small-scale prototype handcart.

by **Terminus Pheonix** » Tue Sep 25, 2018 6:16 am

Fergdun Clan, People of the Cotton-Beaver River and Ruby Hills

The Fergduns were no longer the only ones on their land. A stranger had approached from the south, where the Great Wolves roamed and Green rocks could be found. The meeting was similar to the early meeting with the Zhou, with language failing in more complex ways, but the conveying of basic ideas was possible. He'd come from a folk named Xcotl, who had scouted the Fergdun's lands a year earlier. They spied the beavers during their expedition, and found them fitting for the strange ways of his tribe. At first the clan was confused, and offered pelts and meat, but the Xcotl clansman clarified - he wanted the beavers alive.

Not knowing a way to capture the beasts alive, the Fergduns responded that he was welcome to try and capture the beavers in the south, when Whit interjected. These outsiders couldn't be allowed to take from the land in exchange for nothing. They would need to bring something from their home to ensure an equivalent exchange. He suggested the green rocks that studded the land of the Xcotl. The stranger agreed, and the trade was seal with a hand shake. Whit would be staying in the south this year, both hunting the beaver not trapped by the Xcotl and trading with those who came to check the traps.

Young Jean's imagination was stoked by the stranger and his strange ways, and he would spend the year with Whit, mostly learning about trapping from what he could glean from the Xcotl traps.

The Womenfolk would be in the fields, Maer and An in the main garden selectively planting the grasses once again, hoping to improve yields again. Dia would be planting in the irrigated fields that had lain fallow since the first experiment with irrigation.

by **Holy Tedalonia** » Tue Sep 25, 2018 8:17 am

Clan Bryre
Reshia's Pasture

Another loss nearly this year, it hit the tribe hard, but it was inevitable. The tribe had been growing to used to the warm weather of the region, and allowed themselves to such vulnerabilities. Regardless the tribe begun to prepare for the worse. Fourth is a mere child, and a unfortunate one at that.

Rana helping her mother with the worker chores, to help spread the work load. In turn, her mother teaches the ins and out of being a worker. Ferren continues to piece together the shrine, and Vallen continues his sheep hunts. Eshin travels southeast to search for new lands.

by **Novas Arcanum** » Tue Sep 25, 2018 9:37 am

Brutus leads the entire tribe to the top of cliffs that overlooked the Great Bay. He chooses a day when a storm was gathering, the clouds rolling across the endless skies. Thunder shook the earth, sending shivers down the spines of the Bay Folk. Standing on the gleaming white marble that painted the canvas of the Cadmian homeland, he delivered the story of the Epics for the entire world to see and hear.

Kona, Great King of the Gods! Ruler of the Heavens! We beseech you to grant your blessings and praise your name oh powerful god of thunder, grant us strength and guidance in these last days on Terratus!

Thunder shook the world once more, he held the Epics to the Heavens and the entire tribe praised Kona asking for his blessing,they prayed and performed the ritual from dusk to dawn.

by **Kelmet** » Tue Sep 25, 2018 1:48 pm

The Land of Lordaeron

By the Light

As the People of Lordaeron have left primitive flint tools in the past after their furnace finally is able to melt the local deposits of Hematite. As well as cultivating the first barley crop Lordaeron was well on its way out of the stone age. The only thing the tribe was in need of was numbers, a situation they all hoped to be rectified quickly, tho the memory of Vistra and Vestubian lost child does put a dent in the tribes moral.

by **The GAmeTopians** » Wed Sep 26, 2018 6:20 am

by **The National Dominion of Hungary** » Wed Sep 26, 2018 7:38 am

Clan Serys

Zvad and Lia smiled so brightly in the month's following little Vylena's birth, the couple had been trying for several years to give Zara a little sister or possibly brother to play with and now Vylena was here, the tiny girl's tuft of hair on the head was the same auburn color as that of her mother and her eyes brimmed with a happy, curious glow of being in this great wide world, perhaps she would go in her father's footsteps? A little explorer in the making. What was even better was that the pregnancy had come and gone without issue, only the first birth since they had left their old homeland in the southern woods had ended on a sad note, a life for a life. The spirits demanded their share. For some time Artor had thought of how they could communicate closer with the spirits, but worldly matters always seemed to get in the way, there was always things that needed doing and other things to learn, Lia's pregnancy for example taught him many of the signs to watch for should a pregnancy be unfolding the correct way and thus allowing him to better realize when his help would be needed in possible complications.

Now there were other things to attend to however, as Artor gazed across the grassy plains, the rocky outcroppings and the craggy little plateaus of their home soil, a chilly wind blew across the land as it often did. As the wind moaned across the land, a thought struck Artor, a thought that they may soon have much nicer and warmer things to wear than simple loincloths. And so he got to work, shaping the hides to the human form. One day, his eldest came over after having played with Zara half the day, she simply sat there and looked as her father worked, when he asked little Kharyn why she was not out helping Lia, Ellyn and Zara to gather plums she said that she wanted to help him instead and came with a bunch of strange ideas that made Artor laugh, but he realized that maybe her mind would grow sharp as flint one day.

by **The Federation of Kendor** » Fri Sep 28, 2018 6:55 am

The Herrian Tribe

No story for now again (because of IRL)

by **Adab** » Fri Sep 28, 2018 9:03 am

Not feeling too good right now, will try to add fluff if I'm able to.

by **Brendislav** » Fri Sep 28, 2018 9:22 am

Vestubian of Lordaeron
Year 16, Age 20

Early in the Year:

When they had heard of the union between Vestubian and Vistra, the entire tribe was shocked. With the exception of Varian, who knew Vestubian well. But soon enough the union was accepted by the tribe, they saw the need for more children. Vestubian was so happy that he was going to be a father, but now...

The child died in his hands, he couldn’t do anything to save him. Vistra was grief stricken she blamed Vestubian for not healing their child. But he just couldn’t,Vestubian was powerless. Oh great Light, why do you leave me when I need you most. But of course the Light didn’t answer. Now Vistra hated Vestubian, and most of the tribe started to avoid him, Vestubian was left to mourn alone.

After about two weeks, Vestubian finally got up and started to get back to work. He wanted to find a way for what happened to him to never happen to anyone else in the tribe. Vestubian decided to travel up the mountainside to give himself some space so he can focus on his studies. Vestubian started to muse on how he could learn how to heal better. He thought rather than focusing on the virtues and seeing if he could discover more magic, he should try to push his mystical limits and see about any possible connections to the virtues. Vestubian would practice his healing in the mountains.

However, he came to an issue, there wasn’t anything around here that needed healing. So, Vestubian thought he should make his own “patients”. For the next few months Vestubian would roam the mountains, and using his former experience as a hunter, cripple and harm sheep. He would then collect them and practice his healing on them. He would cut them, burn them, break their bones, and occasionally find a sick sheep in order to practice healing the sheep. Those he healed would be subject to more tests, while those who died would be given to Varian so their bodies would not be wasted.

The actual tests and treatments themselves would differ as well. Vestubian knew that the healing archana required Vestubian to utilise his own life force in order to heal the sheep, but what if Vestubian “drained” his life force in a more physical sense? In order to do that, Vestubian would cut into his own skin to sacrifice his own blood to heal the test subjects. Vestubian also speculated on possibly transferring life force rather than using his own. He would take healthy sheep or sheep he had successfully healed with the ones he was testing on, and bring them both to the Light so he may heal the injured sheep with the healthy sheep’s life force. Vestubian would also go as far as sacrificing the healthy ones if traditional meditation didn’t work.

Late in the Year:

Vestubian has been diligently working at his task, and with magical discoveries aside (OOC: If there are some) Vestubian has actually learned about sheep anatomy. From all the cuts, breaks, and other horrible injuries he had inflicted on the sheep he had gained an understanding of their bodies. Also, Vestubian knew how to better staunch wounds and cuts from his on afflicted “sacrifices” of blood. Perhaps later on he could put his knowledge to use on actual people, discovering a way how to treat people without magic.

However, Vestubian was running into a wall. From very early on, Vestubian was fine with his tests and research, but now he was getting more exhausted. He could feel his strength slipping away mid-year. To remedy this, Vestubian decided to enact his auras of protection he had learned from his Trial of Tenacity, lessinging his need for food, sleep, and preserving his strength. But as he learned from the trial, he would feel much worse as soon as he dropped the spells. He just hoped he would survive as soon as his aura stopped.

Rest of the Year: Vestubian will start his healing experiments on the sheep, in order to discover how to heal even major wounds and diseases. He will push himself to the limits by using the archana of protection.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Fri Sep 28, 2018 7:05 pm

Hill of Silver, Eastern Marches
Eighth Day of Raintime, Year Sixteen

From under the canopy of the forest the small party emerged, Markus and Sylvia only too glad to get out from beneath the endless ranks of trees and leaves. On the scout's face was an expression of mischief, and she veritably skipped forward over the grassy meadow, her husband following behind stolidly with a bemused smile on his visage.

"What exactly are you going to show me dearest? I think we're getting close enough for hints, based on how quickly you are walking."

On his shoulders Markus bore two of the tribe's hefty pickaxes, keen bronze sharpened to a thick yet honed edge which could shatter fractured stone easily and pry apart even sturdy formations. It had only been a bit over two weeks travel from the embrace of the Mother Tree, but the couple carried spears nonetheless in their hands, for though this land was known, it never hurt to be careful in the opinion of Jarn. And as the clan's impromptu leader, his opinion was one that carried weight.

"You'll see soon enough." came the response from the scout as she traipsed ahead, her words drifting back to the trudging worker born on a light summer breeze that smelled of springtime showers and storms heavy in the distance. It was a clear enough day, but here and there tiny rainclouds could be seen in the distance.

Through the verdant emerald grass the team walked. Obviously those showers had been through more recently, even if the Hvasskyn hadn't been here then. It was only a few minutes further when something strange caught Markus' eye over the endless acres of deciduous trees. He shaded his eyes against the rising sun, and squinted hard, but after a staring for some time he couldn't understand what he was seeing.

"Is that what we are going to see Sylvia? A low-lying cloud?"

That smile returned in full force on his wife's face, and she did not respond, but merely continued walking. It wasn't like anything that the newest addition to the tribe of the Keen-Folk had ever seen before. A low cloud, or steam? A mist that was not gray and cool, but shimmered in the noonday sun like the mirrors of the ocean before eveningtime.

Sylvia's course was straight towards the anomalous object, and Markus dutifully followed, curiosity engaging his brain more thoroughly than it had been in hours. Strange indeed. As their walk grew closer, his eyes glanced up through the trees from time to time to catch glimpses of the object as they grew closer. Eventually, his expression went from puzzled to comprehension, and then a smile.

"Now that is quite cool. I see why we needed the pickaxes."

It was not anything he had ever seen before. But that didn't mean he couldn't understand it. The hill that rose strangely from the forested terrain was oddly shaped and sheer against the pale blue horizon, but the immense veins of metal that ran through it were very familiar. It wasn't a type of metal he had seen before, but the distinctive reflective luster was exactly what the Keen-Folk had made such use of.

"What is it called?"

Sylvia shrugged. "I call it mountain-silver, but who can say what it ought best to be called? That's what we're here to find out- if it is useless, or very much so useful."

by **Ralnis** » Sun Sep 30, 2018 7:41 am

Xcotl,
Safe and Ever Marching

With the first contact with the Frudgin Clan, it allowed them access to live beavers for sacrifice. However the only trappers that will be going would be Kutor and Zuma, basically because Zuma knew the place physically and Kutor knew the place spiritually. The chieftain was glad that they could trade for the trapping rights but he still feared about the lack of writing. He knew that the first try was not a success for the Dead only know the past and the future was ever made by the living.

As such he started to think of writing, Zuma started to talk about a trade with the local tribe and of the number of kids that they have. It was then that many of the other members of the tribe had started to tell him the need of medicine and of making children. They all made their case and it made sense. They had been focused on industry and making sure to have enough food to be well off but the welfare of the people around him. He needed to start looking around for what could be used to heal the body and figure out how to handle the precious children that are the future of their tribe.

by **Ulls** » Sun Sep 30, 2018 8:15 am

Kutor,
Trapping Beavers

(No lore post, but it involves trapping beavers.)

Action: Tries to trap beavers with food and next to finally sacrifice to the Dead.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Sun Sep 30, 2018 12:42 pm

Year 16

A new year comes and goes. This year is unseasonably cold, and crops fail, while those tribes with makeshift shelter suffer greatly before the blizzards and blights. Even in the scorching deserts and warm regions of the world reduced temperatures drive away normally abundant animals for more hospitable climes, and belts must be tightened.

Lyov: It took much trial and error- Lyov not exactly being anything more than an amateur woodworker, but by year's end his labors have born fruit. It is slow, and heavy, the thick wheels taking some effort to turn even on flat ground, but results are results. A small wicker hand-cart does the cunning man possess, easily able to move several times the weight that even strong men could comfortably carry. +Wicker Hand-Cart

Vestubian: Try as he might, Vestubian's experiments end in failure. However he summons the energy from within himself, he cannot seem to touch what he presumes must be a similar energy within his victims- though using his own strength he is able to heal those he does not injure to fiercely, healing without drawing on his own inner power proves beyond his abilities. It is good practice, of course, and maimed sheep if he did not heal them made for good meals. But no great enlightenment comes to the shaman of Lordaeron.

Kutor: Living for a time in the lands of the Fergdun Clan, Kutor takes several beavers in his makeshift traps, furry bodies unable to escape some woven ropes he creates to hold the beasts. Feeding them and carrying them across the plains back to his adopted tribe, he slaughters the beasts atop the piled rocks that are the Shrine to the Dead. A thrill runs through the shaman as the creatures perish beneath his flint knife, lifeblood staining the gray stones crimson. The vision of his eyes grows shadowy, but then the shadows recede. The veil between life and death, it seems, is not so easily pierced.

by **Saxony-Brandenburg** » Sun Sep 30, 2018 3:30 pm

The Honori People
Desperation that follows luck

(Bookmark- Will update this soon)

by **Kelmet** » Sun Sep 30, 2018 3:41 pm

The Land of Lordaeron

By the Light

The people of Lordaeron took the rather harsh year in stride. Their ruthless preparation had paid off. Tho there scouts still roam far and wide looking for others to join them.

by **Terminus Pheonix** » Sun Sep 30, 2018 7:50 pm

The Fergdun Clan, Folk of the Cotton-Beaver River and Ruby Hills

(Space for fluff)

by **Holy Tedalonia** » Sun Sep 30, 2018 7:57 pm

Clan Bryre
Reshia's Pasture

“Baaaa,” was the last sound the sheep made before a stone axe slices its head off. Ferren moves the carcass as blood gushes out over a rune that was carved into the glow wood allowing the blood to flow into the carvings. Once the bleeding stopped he tossed the fluffling corpse aside for Vallen to make into proper food. It was one of the many techniques Ferren was trying to find out how the runes worked with the blood of lambs. He had been carefully considering what made the previous glow wood rune work, and quickly trying to test his theories he thought of last year.

That was it for today, now he has to wait and see if the wood survives this later today, right now he needed to host Third’s name day. He heads to the center of the hamlet. The majority of the tribe was their save for Vallen and Third. He heads to the front of the hut, where the audience were facing. A pathway split the audience, allowing people to walk to the front of the crowd without much trouble.

Vallen joins leaving the hut where third resides, no doubt preparing or prepared for her name day. Ferren begins, “Today we celebrate a new day! Our clanswoman has met her name day, and we truly celebrate this milestone in her life, this milestone in her life is important for her, her family, and even the clan. We are all proud of her. For this notion we deem before the spirits and the Grey Warden that she must be named, for she has met the respect and honor of the tribe to recieve such a name!”

Behind the crowd Third appears from a hut.

“Let the lytling come forward,” Ferren shouts; when Third comes in front of him he starts again, “Third, you have made it to your name day, earning the respect of the tribe and the spirits, and welcomed to chose any name you so desire. What shall your name be?”

“I desire to be named after the mother, Sova Bryre, she was a hard working woman and deserves a daughter named after her,” said Third.

“And it shalt be done, Third Bryre daughter of Vallen and Sova, you are to now be known as Sova Bryre, daughter of Vallen and Sova.”

The tribe applaud as Ferren places a crown of various flowers; tied and knitted together. After the crowd dispersed Sova walked next to Ferren as he collects the ceremonial decor.

“Ferren, I’ve been meaning to ask you... are the spirits really real? I mean we’ve never really seen them,” Sova said.

“Sova, the spirits show themselves when they please. I can’t show you anything to make you believe myself, but the fortune and blessings they have done on our tribe is something I’ll never forget, even if I have not seen a spirit myself,” said Ferren.

“Has anybody seen a spirit,” asked Sova.

“Aye one, and it was the day Vallen lost his sister, Hana. ‘Twas a dark day, it was a blessing Vallen was spared.”

“What exactly happened?”

“Vallen and Hana are our warriors, not only defenders of the tribe, but proud hunters. Food was scarce in the mountains, and was densely populated for the mountains were like a sanctuary to the many tribes that resided there. Competition, fierce. When Vallen and Hana killed their game, on the way back they were ambushed by Clan Sekri. A rival clan that focused deeply with high magick. Deeply religious people. They got Hana first with a arrow in her back, Vallen followed the arrows origins, and slayed her killer. However he was gutted with a spear by another enemy tribesmen.

Dying and bleeding on the ground, he nearly lost consciousness. One would thought he would die. We thought he died, when he didn’t return that night. However next morning we saw him, in the outskirts of our encampment, strange herbs and plants wrapped around his wound. It was a miracle he survived. When he woke, we questioned him. It was clear he lost consciousness during his recovering, but before he lost consciousness he saw a figure, a man. A silhouette of grey. It is believed that it was his father, an ancestor spirit who watched and protected him, we call him the Grey Warden. My belief is no mortal man could save him, however a spirit- a being of mystical power could. That is what I believe.”

Ferren saw the girls puzzled face, trying to decipher the mystery of that day.

“I don’t know if I believe you, but I desire to learn more. Ferren, can I be your apprentice?”

“I would be honored, Sova.”

by **The Grim Reaper** » Mon Oct 01, 2018 1:45 am

Lyov, Firsthome

Such a beautiful cart.

Lyov was very proud of it, and he wondered how best to introduce its true potential to the tribe. He was not yet sure if anyone had suspected the nature of his project, as he had now become accustomed to working largely in the shadows. That being said, he had occasionally mentioned some of his various exploits around the fire, and in the mornings and nights. For one thing, word had reached him that Maria Nemtsov had created some small chisels, tools that met the standard he had been hoping for to work wood - and, potentially, stone.

He decided that the best way to show off his cart was by demonstration. He hoped that by conclusively proving its utility, he could convince the Hvasskyn to adopt it more broadly. It also gave him an opportunity to return to the question of the arts. Already burnt once by the still-tantalizing taste of jade, he had finally overcome his initial despair as he rode on the emotional high of emphatic success. Over the harsh winter, he started to put together the materials needed for his trip - some preserved food, mainly, and a cattlehide in case the winter had not yet broken further along on the journey. He also decided to take one of the bronze pickaxes and a chisel. He figured that, with the clear demonstration of the handcart's capabilities, the tribe would forgive him this mild transgression. The most important feature of his preparations was to add a hide cover to the wheelcart, realising that the wicker could restrain the lateral movement of the goods within it, but would not, when used to haul lighter material, protect the contents from vertical jostling. He fastened it with a wicker handle.

He knew that, whilst the Hvasskyn knew of many amazing materials and metals across the world, there was one location that was well-possessed of them in particular. Northeast of North lay the region best known for shimmerstone, but it also contained two other ores - hematite, and galena. Although the latter two had, it seemed, little of interest to him - at least, not yet having understood their very immediate implications towards the arts - shimmerstone was of immediate and pressing concern. However, he also intended to investigate them both, and take a small sample, with which to experiment.

Lyov - Add a hide cover to the wicket-cart; head northeast of north to bulk-collect shimmerstone in the cart, take the time to investigate hematite and galena's physical properties and sample-collect both; if the expedition is successful, show off to the tribe.

by **Novas Arcanum** » Mon Oct 01, 2018 9:50 am

-No Fluff-

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Mon Oct 01, 2018 5:14 pm

Banks of the Great River, Firsthome
Fifth Day of Summersheat, Year Seventeen

Maria splashed through the water, cool flowing swirls siphoning away the high temperatures of summer near Firsthome. It was certainly cooler here than over by the seaside, but that didn't mean it was a very tolerable way to live one's life. The courses of the Great River here were desperately clear, flowing down from some distant springs or hills, and around the matriarch of the clan's feet the small minnows teemed like stars in the night sky.

She waved a callused hand as her husband moved past, his latest folly sluggishly lurching upstream against the current beneath his sweating exertions. Unlike the hide canoe she had first proposed, this was a more complicated contraption, one made of wooden boards carefully planed with tools of wrought bronze and sealed with thick sap amalgamate. To the Scholar's educated opinion it seemed like it handled like a cow trying to swim, and it certainly moved more slowly than the simple canoe Maria had fabricated. But, at the same time, it was both wider and longer, and did not look likely to tip, a flaw which the canoe suffered from all too obviously.

That night after Jarn returned from paddling the boat about the two discussed the idea over a thick soup of rice gruel, assorted fruits, and seared venison.

"It leaked like a bucket, but only slowly. I definitely need a different recipe for the sealant. The plant fibers and sap were a good start, but they started being permeated after a few hours in the water. The wood is good though, it floats excellently, even when not wrapped in the stiff hides you used."

Maria frowned, before ladling some of the hearty soup into her mouth with a crude length of whittled wood that passed for a spoon. She chewed a few times contemplatively, then swallowed and mused aloud.

"Perhaps you should talk to Lyov. He was working with the canoe before he left with his handcart, he might have some ideas."

Up and down her husband's shoulders went in a shrug that would have impressed even the most Stoic of men.

"Hard to ask a man who isn't here. I hope the outlander comes back in one piece from his sojourn. I may ask him then. Right now, though, we have to work with what we have. The other thought I had was to try and seal the wood and joints with some other fluid that repels water. Sap works well enough, but it is thick and does not set with the planed timbers. Perhaps you can try doing something with the fats we take from the kills of the tribe- like it discourages insects and turns water from clothing, it may turn back water from the timbers of my boat."

From across the fire young Ivan nodded, having been listening to the conversation as he ate with his brother and red-haired Talia.

"I'll bring you back a fat buck, mother, if you need more fat for your experiments. The woods are growing full of game again now that the winter has left us in earnest. Not as fat as they could be, perhaps, but plenty for what you need I warrant."

Within the walls of the stone stockade the Keen-Folk let the fire die low as night overtook the landscape, the cloak of evening bringing a slow relief from summer's warm embrace.

by **The National Dominion of Hungary** » Tue Oct 02, 2018 8:28 am

Clan Serys

Out of the Snows

(Space for fluff that will be added later)

by **Theyra** » Tue Oct 02, 2018 6:36 pm

The Aslani

Maybe If I have time later.

by **The GAmeTopians** » Wed Oct 03, 2018 8:18 am

A Strange World :: Civilization's Dawn (IC/Closed)

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