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

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Wed Oct 03, 2018 9:57 am

Year 17

Lyov
The Scholar's expedition to the north-east is quite successful, though solitary, having spent many weeks away from any human contact in the wilderness. When he returns though he returns with his hand-cart heaped high with fractured pieces of shimmerstone, hewn chunks of hematite, and many shards of galena. The last ore seems softer than the other two, but all gave way under the assault of his bronze pickaxe, and he managed to bear nearly double what another man might have carried with the aid of his contraption. The Hvasskyn are suitably impressed when he presented his bounty before the tribe, and all but the scout marveled at the translucent shimmerstone, whose prismatic hues seemed to drink in the light of the tribe's fire and throw it back broken in a layer of pure color.

by **Novas Arcanum** » Wed Oct 03, 2018 11:02 am

Cadmus,Great Bay

A temple to the gods was to be built. Using the keen flint tools Brutus and Marsillia had crafted the Cadmians got to work hard to mine the abundant marble, in the cliffs that overlooked their humble village. Day by night. Secundus would strike the marble, as well as Flavius now that he had come of age. Marsillia would use her binding agent to keep the stone together. Brutus led the construction effort, in due time a gleaming temple of shining light would arise from the horizons for the entire world to see.Meanwhile, Titus had realized that Ley Sight could be used to discover sources of magic. He would definitely use that in his travels.

by **The GAmeTopians** » Wed Oct 03, 2018 11:44 am

by **Ralnis** » Wed Oct 03, 2018 1:53 pm

Xcotl,
Sacred Year

After the snow pasts by the people of Xcotl got back to work.

Tenochitanzula had started to work with Kutor to work with trying to work on the welfare of the people. They needed to focused on childbearing a and making sure the population was sustained for the next generation of Xcotl. In the mean time, Opono and Uli to try and start making children again. Zuma himself was told to go beyond the Frugdeon Clan and look for more, larger animals to see if it could help with the rituals. That was all they could do as of right now.

by **Ulls** » Wed Oct 03, 2018 1:56 pm

Kutor,
Helps with Midwifing

No lore but the titles says it all

Action: Helps Tenochitanzula with studying Midwifing for the healthcare of her tribe.

by **Saxony-Brandenburg** » Wed Oct 03, 2018 2:31 pm

The Honori People
A slightly better fate

The sun rose up upon the Honori people the following year, and cast it's warmth upon a better people. Not by much, to be sure, but better. The illness they struggled to combat persisted, and only Arka managed to overcome it to some degree. Still, they had to set aside their visions for the future for now, and set upon their practical lives. Homa, same as last year, ventured down into the land to collect various remedies from experience over the years in dire attempt to aid her struggling family. No minute did she seem to have free, and poor Arka was little help. She did bring them water, more fur-blankets, and food when she could, but her own aftereffects of such could not be discounted. The rest of the people, well, they could do nothing for the gods, and were forced to continue to supply a steady stream of crops to the hilltop, as they had learned well enough a fed village made a healthy village. Still, things looked grim for them, but they continued forward, just as bravely as they did years ago.

by **Kelmet** » Wed Oct 03, 2018 2:37 pm

The Land of Lordaeron

By the Light

Another year, blessed by the light.

Varian-Warrior - Hunting for food.
Vistra- Warrior- Hunting with Varian. Rebuilding her relationship with Vestubian
Calia-Scholar - Researching A way to advance the tribes knowledge in inkling of steel (Bellowing). Trying to have a kid with Aiden
Natalie-Scholar- Working on improving farming techniques.Trying to have a kid with Varian
Mara -Worker- Growing and nurturing the Barley crop. Expanding it if they can
Mark- Worker- Growing and nurturing the Barley crop. Expanding it if they can
Baron- Worker- Tending the sheep herd. Expanding it if he can.
Aiden-Scout - Scouting for tribes/people to unite with.
Anveena-Scout - Scouting for tribes/people to unite with.

Vestubian- Character- Researching the Holy Light.

Noteworthy relationships
Varian & Natalie - Together, parents of Baron & (*adopted) Aveena
Aiden & Calia - Together, parents of Mark

Vestubian & Vistria - Currently separated.

Noteworthy roles
Varian- Leader
Vestubian- Shaman
Mara- "Den mother" figure

by **Terminus Pheonix** » Wed Oct 03, 2018 3:02 pm

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

(Fluff maybe)

by **Brendislav** » Thu Oct 04, 2018 8:02 am

Vestubian of Lordaeron
Year 18, Age 22

Early in the Year:

Vestubian had to retreat back to the tribe due to the cold-wave, even though the chill did not truly affect him due to his aura he was maintaining, but he knew if he kept it up for any longer, he would be in grave danger. Vestubian walked down the mountainsides and eventually reached the tribe by the end of the day. The entire tribe was gathered around the fire, and they all had shocked looks when they saw that Vestubian had returned. Vestubian walked closer, and dropped his aura of protection, and immediately blacked out.

Vestubian woke up in one of the huts of the tribe, covered in sheep wool. He can see the daylight shining in from the doorway, it looked to be about midday. And much to his surprise, he saw Vistra sitting in the doorway, watching their tribe members outside.

“How long was I asleep?” Vestubian groaned. Which caused Vistra to jump.

“It has been three days,” Vistra turned to face him, some tears welled up in her eyes, “we were all worried about you. You had left us for so long and the winter was harsh.”

“I am here now, do not worry” Vestubian reasussured. He tried to reach for Vistra’s hand but she promptly stood up, muttering about how there was work to do, and left. It hurt Vestubian that Vistra still didn’t forgive him, but he hasn’t forgiven himself yet as well. Vestubian was still very weak, but his hunger gave him the strength to stand up and find some food.

About a week later Vestubian felt well enough to start working again, still focused on advancing his powers of healing. While he performed his experiments on the sheep he also studied the anatomy of the creatures, perhaps humans contained similar pieces and flesh, after all, both could be healed in a similar way. Vestubian would spend the year furthering his studies in the anatomy of sheep and comparing it to humans. While he could do whatever he wanted to the sheep (dissecting certain organs and their bones) he would have to resort to only observation on his tribe members and himself. However, if anyone is injured during the year, he will take some time poking, prodding, and examining the wound before healing it.

Very early on, the tribe asked Vestubian to move his studies a fit farther from the tribe, the smell and the sight of gore was bothering them. So far Vestubian discovered that each sheep had lots of these different sacks, which he would call “organs”. He would hopefully find out their purpose. Although even with his first dissection he could see the purpose of some of the organs. One was filled with grass, perhaps the sheep’s “food sack”, and another was covered in tubes and filled with blood, obviously some sort of blood maker.

As Vestubian was ripping and tearing into a sheep he heard a soft cough behind him. He looked up, covered in blood and all sorts of visera from the sheep, and was surprised to see Vistra. He quickly got up and attempted to wipe off the worst of the mess.

“Vistra, what brings you around these parts?” Vestubian asked as he looked back at the carcases, “I hope it wasn’t the smell.”

“No I just wanted to see you, I got back from hunting and wondered if you wanted to take a walk together.” Vistra replied.

“Yes that would be nice,” Vestubian threw his tools to the side, adding to the mess, “of course I should probably wash first.”

Vistra nodded, “Yes you should, we will stop by the stream on our way.” She extended her hand for Vestubian to hold, and they walked around the woods, simply talking.

Rest of the Year: Vestubian will try to learn about the anatomy of people by studying his tribe members, taking some time to examine wounds when he heals them, and by understanding the function and purpose of sheep organs and connecting it with similar processes of humans (eg. Sheep eat and it goes to stomach, people must have something similar, hearts pump blood, same with people.)

by **Theyra** » Thu Oct 04, 2018 10:15 pm

The Aslani

Maybe later

by **Adab** » Fri Oct 05, 2018 5:13 am

The Maelon, They Who Came Forth from the Mountains

Typing this on mobile. Will add fluff if I have the time.

by **The Grim Reaper** » Fri Oct 05, 2018 6:27 am

Lyov, Firsthome

Lyov listened intently as Jarn recounted his experiments with the canoe. He considered, too, the current solutions. Sap, fibres, animal fats. These were not useless, but they were notably imperfect.

"I have precious little to add to your knowledge, but I can at least share my experiences. Of my work with the handcart, the central thing I have learned is that you must be sensitive to even small variations in the surface you work with. You will understand the importance of this from metalworking, I am sure, but it remains a significant problem with wood, even when your material seems more pliable and manipulable than the insurmountable resilience of a completed metalwork."

To demonstrate his point, Lyov wandered over to a couple of reasonably sized pieces of wood, enough to fit into the palm. Sighting a freshly felled tree nearby the pair, he collected a small amount of sap on one piece of wood, and slapped it against the other.

"The two adhere, of course, but the adhesion is imperfect, as you've found already." Lyov pulled the two away from each other, showing how the thick sap came apart unevenly, stretching apart into a sticky web. "Water is not a simple force, but a truly powerful beast - as the canoe makes speed against the waves, it does not just avoid the might of nature, but confronts it. Thus, the water is easily able to force itself in between the sap, forcing holes into the material. You need something that can be formed more closely to the shape of the wood, and that will create a more permanent seal. Like melting metal to create a rod.

While I was in the wilderness, I prepared my own meals, even in the bitter cold. Here, in Firsthome, there are plenty to eat the left-overs, and we clean our cookware well with the leisure of many hands to make light work and the waters of our river. But mine was a trek through the winter cold.
When I prepared soups of bone marrow and animal fat, I found that, on occasion, it seemed that any liquid I happened to leave overnight would congeal into something thicker, and potentially useful for your needs. It was brittle, and easily came apart when I cleaned it, being in essence simply fat that had melted and become reformed in the night. However, although it may be my imagination, I often found that this was a more difficult process towards the end of my journey, on the way back to Firsthome - perhaps it was just homesickness, but that would be uncharacteristic of me. The alternative is that it was to do with the nature of my soups. Towards the end, having already enjoyed the most choice meats in those lands I was most unfamiliar with, I was now making my soups largely of bone and marrow. There may be value in the process of boiling the various parts of the animal for adhesive products - not just fat, but bone.

For my part, however, I do not have your expertise with woodworking, and such skilled labour with which to manifest your thoughts. My labour is the thought alone, and so I must be content with the simplest ideas. I would beg you to consider the design of my hand-cart - as you told me, you require such a complex design in order to improve the stability of your vessel, as well as its size. The latter, I cannot help you with, but the former, I could make a suggestion towards.

You see, I discarded the idea of a single wheel, because it forces you to balance the weight of the load delicately on top of the single point. When you have two wheels, the cart itself suggests the balancing of the weight between the two. It may be worth experimentation to consider utilizing such a principle in your canoes - to add a second hull."

Lyov decided to dedicate a full day to revelling in his own success. It was perhaps an unnecessarily self-aggrandizing thing to do, but it had been an exceedingly hard trip for someone who had become accustomed to tribal living, and who certainly had never been bent towards trips of a novel nature. His first foray out of the world, to collect jade, had been very carefully planned. This one, not so much.

Not to mention, shimmerstone was gorgeous. He had marked out a little workspace for himself, a little way away from the tribe's main shelter, closer to the river. It sat just at the edge of the tribe's core territory, close enough that he would not infrequently spy the Nemtsovs trekking out to the river. He had selected some of the nicest pieces, carrying them to the river on a suitably sunny day, just so he could drink in the dual play of the sunlight reflecting over the water and amongst the shimmerstone.

But there was work to be done. He had continued his possession of the bronze chisel he had taken with him initially, and set out to study the properties of shimmerstone. At first, this was primarily visual. He would diligently view each individual piece in the sunlight, at every possible angle, categorizing them into batches - "quality", and "scrap". The quality pieces, he would save for when he understood the material. The scrap pieces, he would use to practice. Making use of the space he had available, even the batches were categorized, piled up into layers of relative quality, so that if he needed more or less practice he could easily change the sizes of the two batches.

He took a mental note with an eye towards formalizing his categorization technique. He realised that the primary quality of shimmerstone was its translucence. Unlike jade, which he could pick between on the basis of its colour, the unique colours and hues of any piece of shimmerstone seemed secondary to its overall translucence. Discolourations were easy to look past, as long as such inclusions did not interfere too heavily with the optical characteristics of the stone, and the consistency of the stone's colour itself was all but irrelevant. So this was the method he used to grade the stone.

Those that were dull, regardless of size or structural integrity, were scrapped, dedicated to his early practice.

Having categorized his load of stones, he set out to shape them into generalized forms, removing swathes of rough or peripheral material with his bronze chisel, resolving to solve the problem of polishing at a later time. For now, he decided to focus on using the opportunity to understand the feeling of working with shimmerstone, less interesting in creating images than things reminiscent of silhouettes and structures. Details could be added later, when he was convinced that both this artform and his practice of it had potential worth developing. He considered asking around the village to find out if any had any suggestions for getting the elusive, mirror-like finish that seemed ubiquitous to river stones.

Lyov - Begins using the scrap shimmerstone to practice general shaping on with a bronze chisel; develops a 'grading system' for shimmerstone based on translucency; suggests to Jarn considering double-hulled canoes and boiling animal bones for adhesives

by **The National Dominion of Hungary** » Fri Oct 05, 2018 7:48 am

Clan Serys

Another year, calm and quiet

The cold winds did not blow down from the far north this winter, instead the land seemed to recover around the men, women and children of Serys. The grass of the plains regained it's green and brown color, the fish once more filled up the river and the streams. Sheep once more moved in herds across the Kamelands, which is what they had come to call this home that they now inhabited after leaving their old ancestral home in the Greatwood, now so far away. The name came from the Kames, which was the term that the people of Serys used to refer to the high, flat-topped, rocky and craggy mounds that rose from the windswept plains that surrounded them. They were growing alongside these plains, with the kames and the rocky outcropping and the hills that all rose from it. They had found a land that, despite the struggles and the death of one of their number they had been safe in. A land where they and their descendants could happily live and prosper, even during the terrible winter of the past year, they had enough food to go to bed sated each night, no terrible beasts stalked these lands. Indeed, as Artor stood high up on the top of the kame in whose shadow their camp was located, he felt a spark of the same enthusiasm he had felt inside of him the first day of their coming to this place.

He heard someone making their way up the craggy path, and soon Ellyn was there, sitting next to him. "I knew I'd find you at your spot." She said and threw back the hood of her fur-lined hide coat, letting the golden hair tied up in a ponytail be tugged at by the wind of the plains. "Getting any inspiration for those clay waterbaskets you've been going on about all the time?" She said with a slight nudge at his shoulder.

Artor smiled. "I'm always inspired, you know that very well by now I'd say." He said in a jovial tone, nudging her back. "And in any case, that's not what's on my mind now. I was thinking about something else."

"What might that be then?" Ellyn asked, leaning back slightly.

"Well." Artor replied and stood up. "All of this." He said with a gesture to the lands that stretched out before him as far as the eye could see. "Our place here, even during last year's winter we all went to bed with full bellies, this land is so plentiful, so much wood and flint for tools, the rushing streams and the river are always there to drink from and to keep our bodies washed. I cannot help but to think that we are fated to be here." He said with a small smile. "This is more than just the Kamelands... it's..." He paced back and forth, trying to formulate his thoughts.

Ellyn knew what he was thinking of, she had not been born last time her ancestors did anything like this but she understood that it would happen one day after she left the Greatwood in the company of four friends, each from a different House. "Our... Sera?"

Artor turned and looked at her, his brown eyes showing a gaze of deep contemplation. "Yes, our Sera, it is a fitting name for the land of the people of Serys." He nodded and then gave her a smile. "Sera... it sounds good my dear, it really does."

"Turns out I'm just as sharp-minded as you." Ellyn said with a cheeky smile, standing up and taking Artor's hand.

"Well, with such a sharp mind, I'd say you'll know the answer to another question I came up here to ponder." Artor said and gave her that look that always made her blush. She noticed his other hand slipping into a pocket on his coat and out came two bone necklaces, on them was etched a symbol known to all of the Serys.

Ellyn smiled and pulled Artor into a warm embrace. "I think you know it too."

by **Holy Tedalonia** » Fri Oct 05, 2018 8:04 am

Clan Bryre
Reshia's Pasture

“Will she get better,” asked Reshia. Ferren observed his sweating daughter, who tossed and turned feverishly. Covered in a swab of blankets.

“I don’t know,” said Ferren grimly, “for all we know she’ll pass away this year.”

“You’re the most knowledgeable, yet you can’t save your own daughter,” Reshia said with venom.

“My love, their is own uncertainty stemming from her illness, however our daughter is tough, let’s not forget,” said Ferren.

The young girl flips again, panting rapidly. Her forehead drenched with sweat. Ferren not knew of a cure, but he was certain he wouldn’t let his daughter die over some disease. He thinks of solutions, but comes up with none.

“If only we had Clan Salane with us,” he grumbled, “using their herbs and medicines to use.”

At that moment Eshin appears at the entrance of the crowded dark hut, “Ferren, I am parting to a new region.”

“Aye, brother I have heard well of your newest expedition. I wish you safe travels,” said Ferren hugging his fellow clansman.

“And you stay in a safe stead,” replied Eshin.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Tue Oct 09, 2018 5:21 pm

Year 18

Lazy post is lazy to push out an update tonight. Perhaps content later, if I'm not too tired.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Tue Oct 09, 2018 7:02 pm

Year 18

Kutor
Though the lack of a birth this year means the ideas are purely theoretical, Kutor manages to develop a crude grasp of the concepts behind a successful childbirth working with her colleague.

Vestubian
A man of action rather than scholarly intent, save where the Light is concerned, Vestubian struggles to grasp the vastly complex and interconnected nature of the creatures he dissects, despite many attempts at such an enlightenment. They seem oftentimes very different, though he kills, he believes, the same type of beast, the sheep of the northern hills. His ingenuity abandons him, and though he supplies the tribe with much meat, he lacks for knowledge.

Lyov
Examining the shimmerstone soon reveals that stones of different sizes and "grades", though to the untrained eye identical or very nearly so, actually manifest slightly different colors more consistently. The most dun spark commonly in hues of blue and green, the finer in yellow and orange, and the most exquisite shards are nearly filled with riotous flashes of red and violet. As Lyov practices on the smallest and most dun stones, he finds that shaping them down into smaller pieces swiftly suppresses the light within them, leaving them smooth and beautiful but no longer in possession of their chaotic plumage. Still, he develops a method for cleaving them cleanly and without shattering them, a great step forward.
Inklings of Shimmerstone Carving

by **Novas Arcanum** » Wed Oct 10, 2018 5:12 am

Cadmus
Great Bay

It was obvious. The Cadmians needed a stronger material, to manipulate the marble that colored their homeland. Thus Brutus would put construction onto hold as he thought of what needed to be done.In the meantime Titus would head eastward this time, looking for a wife, as a man it was time, to spread his wings, and have children as decreed by the gods. Meanwhile, Brutus got to work. He decided to create the "Hieroglpyh of Strength" that would strengthen materials and bless them with power of Terratus to keep them from breaking. Marsillia would get to work with Aurelia as she studied the tenants of Mara, to bring new life into the world. Drusilla's mind was a pulsating star, she had been gifted by the gods with wisdom and soon got to work crafting a keen bow and arrow to destroy the backshells that menaced them.

by **Terminus Pheonix** » Wed Oct 10, 2018 6:17 am

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

Spectres haunted the clan this year.

Jean had again fallen ill, this time grievously, and would need to be cared for and warmed by the fire. The clan by this time had become knowledgeable about the care of the sick, but Jean's illness had grown fiercer as well. This required more than mundane treatment. The spectre of death had taken to him, and must be driven off through prayer, in addition to physical care. So in the times that Maer was not directly involved in his care, she produced a beat on her new drum and sang softly to the ill Jean, echoing the Song of Growth, discovered in better times, so long ago.

After last year's failed harvest, Dia and Whia would take to the fields again, this time focusing on the grasses that sustained the tribe. Whit too would be focusing inward, guarding the tribe and hunting beaver.

by **The Grim Reaper** » Wed Oct 10, 2018 7:32 am

Lyov, Firsthome

Lyov sighed as he played around with the dud stones. Now that he seemed to understand the gradings of the stones, he could name them - the common ones were river-grade, the next were sand-grade, and the final were sky-grade. Below them, those stones that were useless were coal-grade, having gone dull from working or having initially been useless for physical fault.

The pieces were still beautiful, and he was confident that they were still worth using in the state that had been achieved, as beautiful, smooth, even cabochons. Cabochons are gemstones that are smoothed and polished, rather than faceted. But the beautiful promise of the sparkling stones had been lost from these cabochons. This was unacceptable. Their fire was the reason for which Lyov's cart had been acclaimed, and to surrender it would be to fail.

And so Lyov set out to do two things. The first was to study exactly why the lights seemed to dim in the stones. Many generations away from an involved understanding of optics, his interest was less theoretical. Instead, his question was simple - could he 'face' the stones? In other words, the beautiful polished cabochons were dead on all sides, but he wasn't sure why. In the time working with them, their lights had simply delicately vanished, every moment his eyes forgetting yet another sparkle until all were banished from both memory and stone.

Facing the stones meant that he would seek to polish and smooth out only one face of the stone, likely the one down which he was able to cleave it. His hope was that leaving the rest of the stone roughed would preserve light that could then be viewed in the face. The stone could then be inset into another material - with the rough sides inlayed into clay, earth, mortar, or simply rested in a fire if what was required was light behind the stone.

His second goal was to develop the skill of more delicately working the stone. He had two theories as to how a faced stone - or, for that matter, a rough - could be decorated. If he could not make a whole sculpture from it while retaining the fire, there were two alternative options. The first was engraving. He could carve out an image in intaglio, leaving a graven negative in the stone. However, he expected that doing so would leave a figure with a dull light, on a beautiful background. In the opposite direction, he could create a positive relief, carving out the background into a dark canvas from which a firey figure would explode. It was this latter technique, although he intended to try both, that he expected to be more fruitful.

But there was a second option - stipple engraving. It would be an extremely difficult craft to master, and likely prohibitively difficult with primitive tools without an extraordinary amount of luck, as well as total compliance from the still mysterious shimmerstone. A chisel alone did not have the delicacy necessary to manage it, but he suspected that it may be possible to scratch the surface of the stone using other stones - possibly other pieces of shimmerstone, or even one of the now reasonable stockpiles of miscellaneous minerals he had put together. If he could find one finer than a chisel, it could prove good enough to scratch shimmerstone with the care and skill he required - instead of removing material from the shimmerstone to create a literally three-dimensional figure, he could create an illusory one by intentionally creating a rough, cloudy image on the face of the shimmerstone, varying the amount of scratching to imply areas of darkness (distance), and light (closeness). It would produce, likely, only the suggestion rather than the detail of figures, but he imagined that it may at least produce a pleasingly ethereal quality in its uncertainty.

Lyov: Firstly, to study how shimmerstone reacts to facing (smoothing out only one side); secondly, to attempt different methods of engraving on shimmerstone that will minimize the material lost and manipulated (the methods being intaglio engraving into a stone, relief engraving from a stone, and stipple engraving by scratching the surface to create optical variety)

by **Holy Tedalonia** » Wed Oct 10, 2018 4:08 pm

Clan Bryre
Reshia's Pasture

The Drakelings Eggs looked as though stone in Ferren’s hands. Considering how fragile they were it baffled him somewhat. However that was not the concern, rather it was making them grow that was the concern. He thought of many things to force them to hatch, perhaps fire or rather perhaps in a colder environment; what made them work in Drakeling Pass, he wondered, what secrets did those lizards keep from him.

Interrupting his train of thought, his daughter walked next to his experimental egg set up. Ferren greeted her, “hello Rana, nice to see you healthy again.”

“Aye, I’m happy to be up myself,” she said weakly.

“Don’t strain yourself to hard when you work with your mother, she can be hard on lytlings like you,” said Ferren as he still eyed the stone eggs.

“Father, I’m not a little kid anymore! You don’t need to fret,” exclaimed Rana.

“Rana, it is always a fathers duty to fret. If I didn’t I wouldn’t be a very good father, now would I?” Ferren said facing Rana smiling.

“Fine! Ok, I’ll be careful,” she pouted, “what are you doing anyways.”

“Studying fine specimens, daughter. I’m trying to get one of them born as a gift to the Chieftain of Clan Serys. Vallen wants to share these creatures, hoping that they will fulfill a important role for the clans. From what I understand these creatures are capable of flying, but to what extent is unknown. I however do expect this to be some gift, for the chieftain,” said Ferren.

“If its so special why give it to the chieftain?” Ask Rana curious.

“To build good relations with other clans, they care little for those who don’t share. Now run along, your mother must be worried sick,” said Ferren.

Rana heads into the distant greeting her mother who happened to be walking back with a basket of fruits. Ferren returns to focus to work as Sova approaches. She came after saying good bye to her father, who had just recently discussed the ‘blessings the spirits start giving women at her age’.

“What will we do now,” ask Sova who was clearly stumped on how to grow the lizards.

“We come up with hypotheses and we figure out what we did wrong,” said Ferren glumly.

by **Kelmet** » Wed Oct 10, 2018 4:16 pm

The Land of Lordaeron

By the Light

Another year, blessed by the light.

Varian-Warrior - Hunting for food.
Vistra- Warrior- Gathering Winter Wheat.
Calia-Scholar - Researching A way to advance the tribes knowledge in inkling of steel (Hotter Forge).
Natalie-Scholar- Working on improving boat building techniques.
Mara -Worker- Growing and nurturing the Barley crop. Expanding it if they can
Mark- Worker- Building another irrigation field.
Baron- Worker- Tending the sheep herd. Expanding it if he can.
Aiden-Scout - Scouting for tribes/people to unite with. Focusing on warmer areas were people are more likely to be.
Anveena-Scout - Scouting for tribes/people to unite with. Focusing on warmer areas were people are more likely to be.

Vestubian- Character- Researching the Holy Light.

Noteworthy relationships
Varian & Natalie - Together, parents of Baron & (*adopted) Aveena
Aiden & Calia - Together, parents of Mark

Vestubian & Vistria - Working on it.

Noteworthy roles
Varian- Leader
Vestubian- Shaman
Mara- "Den mother" figure

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Wed Oct 10, 2018 7:09 pm

Sunhold, Firsthome
5th of Raintime, Year 19

The final section of the immense stockade was slotted in to place, and Petyor stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow and slapping the rock-dust from his light fur cloak, to survey the results of his labor. Young Kursk trotted over likewise, having glanced at the work himself and realized it was completely finished, a broad grin cresting his face.

"Sunhold. We can finally call her that."

Petyor nodded, ruffling the youth's hair affectionately. Kursk was not his son, but the families of the Hvasskyn were as thick as thieves, and he had participated in the black-haired laborer's upbringing nearly as much as his biological father.

"It is a good name. A prayer for sun and plentiful harvests. And a warm name for when the winter winds blow cold. Even the Father's most chill breath will struggle to penetrate these thick walls."

Granted, it wasn't an entirely enclosed compound. The thick hewn-oak door that barred the entrance to the stockade had cracks in it only indifferently patched with pitch, and haphazard pins upon which it was placed were hardly tight enough to keep out rain, let alone the cold. Not to mention the roof was only intermittent, with smaller dwellings large enough for couples and children build of timbers up against the interior of the thick stone wall.

Petyor nodded again, this time to himself. Perhaps some of Maria's new sealants could be useful for more than just the whimsy of aquatic travel that the Keen-Folk's forebearer had taken to so avidly. Perhaps not. At any rate, it would be worth a try, with the tribe expanding. He had seen the way Markus looked at his young bride, and it was only a matter of time until his sons and daughters started thinking of going out into the world to find partners of their own. More work, but then again, the work of a man who labored with his hands was never done...

by **Saxony-Brandenburg** » Wed Oct 10, 2018 7:31 pm

The Honori People
Recovery and looks to the horizon

Homa emerged from the hut in that cool early morning with stiff arms and a painful neck. She glanced down in the early light to the river valley below, and watched the wind gently sway the grasses and grain in the wind. It had been done. They had weathered the storm.

"The Sun and Moon be praised! Life has been given back unto our people!" Said the leader of the clan upon the rock, as the Honori before her gathered before her, beginning to put upon their cloaks of skins and hide as the sun left the land. "We have felt the cold grip of death grasp our very hearts, and have come from it liberated! My people, I tell you why, I tell you divine revelation that has occurred to me! We, are the god's chosen people!"

The Honori people heard her words, and accepted them readily. How could they overcome so much, with such prosperity to not be the case? they must be something grand, they must be something great. And as the wind picked up, and they each took their turn to sacrifice a piece of their wealth in the eternal flame of the shrine-home, they heard the divine whispers in the breeze of something greater.

"I will be your shadows, I will be your light. We will be in your footsteps, we will deal unto you what is right."

by **Holy Tedalonia** » Thu Oct 11, 2018 12:55 pm

Eshin Bryre meeting Clan Serys
A Year Ago
The outskirts of Serrith

Zvad took a breath of the chilly air as he stepped out onto the large stone in the wide, rushing stream. The flint toothspear held in his hand as he tried to spy any lazy silverfish swimming beneath the waters. He did not begrudge the tasks that Artor had given him in the last few… well, years. He was not completely at ease simply staying in one place, his was the heart of an explorer. But he understood his need to be here in the Kamelands of Sera, he was the Clan’s best hunter, and there were many small mouths to feed back at camp and remaining here, he was always close to Lia and the kids, a source of comfort in any situation. He had been with that woman in thick and thin, and now, they had their own House, whose name would be passed on through a long, long time. He was torn from thought and back to reality at the sight of a fish swimming against the current, waiting for the right moment and finding his balance before striking out as to not lose his balance on the wet rock, he finally lashed out but this fish proved too quick for him and quickly escaped down the stream. Zvad cursed under his breath. Before he could do much else however, he heard a rustle from the shrubs growing near the stream, it had to be Lia and Zara coming back, they had gone a bit further to a nearby sweetplum grove to gather fruit. Zvad called out absentmindedly, not even looking over the shoulder as he tried to maybe spot another fish close by. “Hey! I’m over here darling, I’ll be coming over soon.”

Behind the shrubs hid Eshin Bryre, surprised by the acute awareness of the fisherman. He had wished to have revealed himself at a later time, however plans don’t always go as they are intended to. He steps out of the bushes with his spear behind his back, rather than in his hand, “I’ve been called many things, but ‘darling’ isn’t one of them,” he said calmly, hoping to not frighten the man. For all he knew it was some sort of title that one would share to a fellow Clansman.

Zvad turned around so fast he almost lost his balance and slipped into the stream. The stranger was soon looking into the face of a man with his mouth agape, a pair of gray eyes opened as wide as they could be and with his hair and beard unevenly trimmed by a flint knife. Zvad needed a second to process the fact that there was a stranger standing there, not that he was surprised that there were other humans around, he was certain there were. But he had not expected them to come to their land, in fact it was he who found them in his own mind. But then, the world turns the way it does. He looked at the stranger, and then… at the fish he had caught earlier… in the basket, on the edge of the stream… ready for the stranger to take in a stride and run off with… Zvad swore under his breath again and took a leap from the rock aiming for the shore but in his currently shocked state, he fell short and plunged into the rushing, almost waist-high water. This time he swore out loud.

“Damn, you as protective of your food as a Sinkari Clansman,” said Eshin as he walked as close as he could to the man stretching out his hand for him, “best we talk out of the water.” A friendly smile shined on Eshin’s face, somewhat hidden by his brown beard. He had long brown hair and had a dead animal slung to his left shoulder.

“I have no idea who or what that is, but I’ll take your word for it.” Zvad said in a gruff tone as he clasped the stranger’s hand and heaved himself up from the water. His fur-lined hide clothes were soaked and his mouth formed a hard line of obvious irritation. If the stranger had not been friendly, he could have been going to the Void right now. He had to keep his calm if any similar situation was to occur in the future he thought as he wiped the water and the wet brown hair from his face. “You wanted to talk stranger, then tell me, what is your name and how come you are here?”

“I am a explorer from Clan Bryre, known as Eshin Bryre. It was the first time I’ve met another person during my journey’s,” Eshin spoke calmly, “I was hoping you could help me learn more about the regions you know of.” He observed the wet man’s clothes, they were more refined the Eshin’s rather plain sheeps pelt that covered only a small part of him.

“Well, you’ve ended up in the Kamelands, in Sera, the land of Clan Serys, Eshin Bryre.” Zvad said, carefully watching the man, and while he had been nothing but friendly, Zvad wound not quite let down his guard yet. “My name is Zvad Stargrove of Clan Serys and…” He smiled for a split second and stood silent, looking for the right words. “And I guess you could call me an explorer too.” He finally said. “But most of my exploring is yet to be done.” He said in a jesting tone. “So I’m afraid I do not have that many stories, Eshin Bryre.”

“Nice to meet you, Zvad. Even if you haven’t explored yet, I am certain you have many stories about your arrival to the Kamelands,” said Eshin he almost offered a handshake, but hesitates unsure Zvad would recognize the intent, “You said you were part of Clan Serys? We could try and get our Clans to know one another better.”

“Likewise, despite the circumstances.” Zvad said, his tone easing up slightly. “And I can tell you all about this land, for I have traveled back and forth across it for a long time, hunting, fishing…” Zvad stood silent for a while, thinking of the unknown lands still awaiting his eyes. “Yes, Serys is my clan, and this is our homeland, we have been here for years but before that we lived in the Greatwood, left as youths, too many people you see, so they sent us out, each from a different house to find a new home, make a new clan and new houses.” Zvad waved dismissively. “Well, that’s a story for another day, if you want our clans to be friends, you should probably be introduced to our chief first, see if he has a message for our people that you can take back to your land.”

“Understood, could you lead me to him, Zvad, or should I go seek him myself?” Eshin asked, hoping to garner some news on the journey home.

Zvad mulled over Eshin’s words for a while. Bringing a complete stranger right into the camp would have Artor furious, but Zvad had an idea. “You know what, Eshin. You stay here, have a rest from your travels, eat a bite of that sheep you’ve got there, maybe catch some fish and I’ll bring him here to see you in a bit, how does that sound to you?”

Eshin carefully listened to Zvad’s words. Fear initially struck him first, for there was a chance that perhaps he came with the Clans fullest strength, however it wasn’t like there was much to gain from killing a lone clansman. He agreed begrudgingly, “Understood, bringing a stranger into your camp is dangerous, I’m certain Clan Bryre would’ve done the same,” said Eshin calmly. He sits down ready for the long wait.

“I’m glad you understand Eshin.” Indeed, Zvad was certain he would have received the same treatment had he randomly wandered into another clan’s homeland. After all, it was so much better to be safe now than sorry later. “Now this is what I’ll do.” Zvad said in an even tone. “I’ll be going to find the people I came out with, my wife and eldest daughter, and we’ll be heading back to our camp, then I’ll explain to the chief that I’ve met you and bring him here, just me and him. He’ll be just as interested in speaking to you as I assume you are to him, it is his decision if you get to rest at our camp later, just… be as friendly as you have been with me, answer the questions and I’m sure you’ll be sharing the evening meal with us.” Just as he was getting ready to go get Lia and Zara, he took his fishing spear and was about to take the basket with fish, he stopped himself, the stranger had helped him and been friendly, Zvad wanted to show some gratitude. “You know what, help yourself to the fish I caught if you want to.” He said, managing a friendly smile.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m good for now,” said Eshin grinning, “Let him know your, ‘darling’ will be sitting right here.” He dropped the sheep next to him and made himself comfortable. Laying his spear onto the ground slowly.

It was not hard to find the way back, even for Artor who, while being many things, a skilled tracker was not one of them. All they had to do was to follow the smoke from the man’s cooking fire for the last bit of the trek. Zvad went unarmed, as a show of good will, while Lia had protested Artor finally did convince her that it would be a good show of good will to a man who had shown no hostility, even when he had a perfect opportunity to take the upper hand in a possible attack. Artor on the other hand did go armed, the clan’s hafted flint axe stuck down through he hide strip he wore for a belt. After all, the stranger was armed himself and it would be foolish to simply lay oneself at his mercy, a balance had to be struck. The stranger laid back next to a small campfire, slowly munching on the roast sheep as Artor and Zvad walked up. “Greetings traveler, and welcome to the land of my clan.” Artor called out in a calm, collected tone of voice, raising an arm in greeting.

“I’m honored to meet you, good chieftain of Clan Serys,” said Eshin carefully remembering Zvad’s reminder giving a nod in acknowledgement.

Artor sized the man up, he seemed well fed and strong of form, but his clothing was simpler than that of the Serys while his weapon of similar make as their own spears at the camp. There was not much else to tell from simply studying him for such a short time. Eshin on the other hand would be seeing a man slightly older than Zvad, but not by much. With dark brown hair and a beard, roughly trimmed as Zvad’s own. His brown eyes seemed to miss no detail and while he was of regular build and a tad bit shorter than Eshin, it was clear that physical prowess was not the source of the man’s power over Clan Serys. It was instead clear that it was through that hard, penetrating gaze and the calculating brow that he held his influence, this was a man who used the mind to win his battles and not his arm. “So, Eshin.” He said, his voice a strange blend of calm and firm. “You have come from Clan Bryre, I am to understand. And I appreciate the help you gave to my friend here, who tells me you wish our clans to know eachother better.” He took a few calm steps closer. “If that is indeed the case, then tell me of your clan, and of yourself. Tell me a story, Eshin. And I may tell you one to bring to your people in return.”

“Well, we live comfortably in the plains and riverlands of the west currently, however before than we lived in the mountains with many other tribes. However we found no food due to the competition between other clans, so we left and ended up where we live now. We are a small clan, but I am certain our little clan will grow in due time,” said Eshin, “We hope we can establish good relations with as many of the locals as possible, especially considering how empty this region is”

Land similar to their own, Artor deduced. Few, if any beasts able to hunt men, ample food supplies. Climate? Hard to tell, but probably similar, possibly warmer, less wind. Much hard terrain unlikely, but possible. Small… small could all depend on perspective. There could be more or less of them, but he would not pry in that regard. “We have a similar story I must say, our ancestors lived in the green Greatwood, but they absorbed many smaller tribes and soon, they numbered over a dozen houses, food became lean. Fifteen youths were chosen and sent away, each person from a different house. Me and Zvad are among them, as are some of those at our camp.” Artor deliberately kept the exact number of his tribe secret as of yet, not mentioning that the fifteen teenagers were organized into groups of five, each sent in a different direction. “I can only thank the spirits that we found lands such as these, Serys can grow strong and numerous here.” Artor said, in his calm, even tone of voice. “We are not, strictly speaking locals, but we welcome the friendship of your clan should it be offered. Tell me, Eshin. Who leads Bryre? What would he say if I were to meet him here?”

“Our Chieftains name is Vallen Bryre, he is warrior, but a firm and competent leader. I would imagine that he would like to establish friendly relations and hope to meet agreements rather than going to war over them,” Eshin said carefully, “Needless to say, our Clan lives to make terms with neighbors friendly and fair.”

A warrior, all too often quick on the strike and slow on the uptake. But if this one managed to keep his people well and living comfortably, perhaps he was indeed as competent as this Eshin claimed him to be, perhaps he did indeed value cooperation. “If that is indeed the case, then tell Vallen Bryre that Artor Skyspyre, chieftain of Clan Serys extends a hand.” He said, firmly meeting Eshin’s gaze. “I am sure there is much we can learn from each other, many ways we can be of help to one-another and many goods we can exchange for the benefit of both, go and tell him that, Eshin Bryre.”

“Understood, good Chieftain, I will let him know, I would imagine a meeting to eventually take place to signify this pact and ensure that this is what both clans desire, would it be to much for me to ask that it should take place in the riverlands in the west? It’s not to far from Clan Serys and would make great neutral ground to make such a pact,” said Eshin his eyes awaiting for a reaction, “when would be a good time, to meet again?”

“Of course, a meeting is needed to formalize the thing.” Artor said as if it were the most self-evident thing in the world. “As to where, the land to the west will do fine, we shall have to keep an eye on the sky above us however, so the great birds do not interfere. Yes... I suppose it will work well. As for the time, we could do it next year if it suits your clan as well?” Artor said, slightly raising his eyebrow.

“I believe that could work, if we are able to capture our gift in time, we want to ensure that your clan is happy with this arrangement,” Eshin said recalling Vallen’s and his discussions about clan relations, “it is customary for our clan to give a gift to another clan when arrangements are agreed.”

Capture? Artor raised an eyebrow for a split second. Yes, yes it made perfect sense. A warrior chief would want to impress possible allies with a show of skill in hunting or some similar feat of strength. Establish an early impression as strong, someone to rely on should hostile tribes or beasts become a problem, also shows that he is not to be crossed, that he can turn his skill at hunting against those who betrayed his clan. Rather simple posturing. Artor flashed a quick smile before turning back to Eshin. “Very good, we look forward to your gifts, and you can be certain that you shall receive gifts in return, let no man say that Serys only takes and gives nothing back.”

After spending a night resting and getting familiar with his new acquaintances, Eshin prepares himself for departure. Once fully packed he gives his goodbyes and heads home. Certain that this relation would be a fruitful one, he returns home with good morale. In the following years they will meet again. As the stranger left, Artor and Zvad returned to the settlement, or Serrith as they had begun calling it. They were glad that this man from an alien land spoke a tongue that was almost the same as their own. Of course, his intonation was different and some words were alien to them, while other words were the same, but with a different meaning in Eshin’s mind. This event was almost all that Clan Serys spoke of for several days as it gathered around the fire and took it’s meals. Lia thought that these Bryre-folk must be from a place close to the Greatwood, seeing as the way they spoke was so similar but their clan was still unknown to their own kin in the woods. Artor agreed, it was a plausible explanation, perhaps they had even had a language even more similar in the past, but maybe they also left their home a long time ago. So long that children lived their whole lives in a new place, new impressions and a new surrounding warping their tongue. Whatever their origin, Artor was very interested in hearing what their chieftain had to say.

by **Theyra** » Fri Oct 12, 2018 3:19 am

The Aslani

Maybe later

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

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