Test Of Time
No one knows how your people came to be. Whispers among some tribes, that you had all come from one massive, super tribe, greater than all of you put together, have suggested greater origins than you could have imagined. Stories are told around campfires that you all came from this tribe as a greater people, that you went to war with one another, and fell. Where once there was many, then there were few. Even worse was the loss of knowledge. Over the generations of your people, you had forgotten so much that you are now nothing compared to your former glory.
Whatever the truth is, one fact remains. You are here. You are all great tribes. The future is bright, and it beckons you like a sweet lover, or as a fire attracts moths to it's torturous demise. Can you survive, great people? Can you once again flourish in military strength, material prosperity, science, arts, culture and religion?
It has been a somewhat easy Winter for your tribes and the Spring begins. Wise men of each tribe have all come up with little ideas to help sweeten your times as a tribe.
Add one bonus to your Tribes that are Technology appropriate. No discovering gun powder or faster than light travel right after you discover how to fashion and shoot with bows and arrows. :D
One more thing, role play what your tribe is doing at the moment, how are they advancing culturally, technologically, religiously? Etcetera. You have one hundred years.
The Snowari's spring is comparatively cold. It always is. They live far North, where the snows are common, but their long fur protects them. In winter, their fur grows long, and in Spring, it shortens with the accordingly warmer weather. However, this relativity uneventful Cycle is darkened by a brewing conflict. Cults are appearing everywhere, and the Grand Council can't smother them all. Though no rebellion has begun, illicit Atlatls are being made all over the place. Every tribe member senses war coming. Seeing this, the Grand Council knows that steps need to be taken so the unbiased, honest truth about their Atheism is heard across the small domain the Snowari reside upon to prevent a war. Over the next few decades, an appointed group of Leopards carve into the hardest stone the Snowaran Alphabet. Whilst this is happening, explorers are sent South with rarely seen clothing to see what is there. They ride on the backs of horses, ones with thick fur like theirs. Their journey may last their lifetime, but many say it will be worth it.
The Snowari invent a written alphabet.
Rebellious cults are appearing and civil war looks inevitable.
Explorers are sent South and Southeast.
Using the mild winter the Jilinth have migrated from their long time home in the vast plains, bound for a lone peak nestled off in the horizon. They arrive there as a light snow powders the ground, the way was relatively easy (even through the forests) and so they had no loss of life in the tribe. The mountain that will become their new home is bordered to the north by a large lake and to the wast by a river, the south and west are rolling hills with fertile soil that will be good for the herds to graze upon. Searching over the mountainside the Jilinth quickly found a cave system that runs into the side of the mountain, a small path makes it easy enough to get to and the fact that it is about a third the way up the mountain allows them to observe the surrounding terrain for threats.
Spending the rest of the winter in the caves the people of the tribe begin to spin stories of their gods, tails of the gods Death, War, Disease, and Knowledge and their goddesses Life, Peace/Love, Prosperity, Wisdom. These stories are brought to life for the young ones on the cavern walls with simple pictures. As the stories are told the visage of great beasts are wound in with the stories, so much so that as the first spring rains wet the mountainside and the plains the non-humanoid physical forms of the gods have become that of great Wyrms, only these are not the terrible monsters we know, in their stead the Jilinth have made them things of great beauty (at least in their own minds, though they have tried their hardest to show that on their drawings)
As spring rolls around the Jilinth resume their normal tasks of herding, hunting and gathering. During all of this the young are taught by the old, in settings that would look surprisingly like a grade school field trip. They are taught various things that are thought useful, like how to make tools, gather properly, shape the wet clay from the rivers banks into crude bowls, carving, etc. It is during one of these lessons that a young child by the name of Srk, bored by the constant lessons, begins to carve a simple hunting scene into a relatively flat wooden slab no bigger than a few thumbs across or high. Only there was one difference from the rest of his carvings he thought it would be more fun if he tried it backwards, carving out the wood around the picture and not the picture itself. As soon as he was finished he laid it aside in the caves to play with his friends and there it laid until he returned hours later to find that he he had accidentally placed it in soft mud. As he lifted it he was astonished to see that it had left behind a faint trace of the picture. Rushing to the elders he quickly and excitedly began to explain what he had just done, they brushed him aside as an annoyance. Not dissuaded by this he ran off to find some of the painting dyes that were often used to paint the walls. Dipping the carving in he quickly pressed it up against a hide, pulling it away there was left a faint, yet visible, outline of the pictograms. The current chieftain saw the young child do this, and intrigued with the outcome watched closely as the skin was marked. Quickly realizing what had transpired he snatched the skin and the child and took them before the elders. Convincing the elders how he thought a process like this could be useful for marking where the best resources were quickly the chieftain insured that more time would be given to this peculiar method of painting. Srk was given his picture back, praise from the chieftain, and a small oval pendent with the simplistic markings that denoted a tail about the God of Knowledge strung together with small bits of reed fibers. As time progressed and the years marched onward more though was definitely given to the carving and painting style developed by Srk as they saw more and more use as teaching tools and marking tools. Over the years as the carvings became more and more elaborate and larger, a easier way to imprint them was needed. Enter a young adult named Alrn 20 years after the carving. Desiring to leave her mark on the tribes some how she wracked he brain trying to come up with a new way of pressing the carvings to the various skins that needed to be imprinted. One day she was walking down by the lake when she came across a particular flower that grew along its banks. The flower was shaped like a extended V and folded up each night. As she watched the flower close inspiration hit her. Rushing back she grabbed a large block of wood and set about carving. Taking the better part of 3 months she emerged from the caves carrying a thin wooden box with a hollowed top, the first crude iteration of the folding press. The sudden ease and influx of new prints quickly began to condense the pictographs, to make them easier to carve and print. Soon (being within 35 years) the first stages of a organized written language emerge.
Throughout all these years and history the Jilinth spread out further along the mountain side as their population expanded. They came to name the mountain Requar.
Cultural:The tribe moved to Requar
Religious: the gods became more defined and took on a new form
Industrial: due to the folding press the Jilinth developed a written language
Cults: The first true Knowledge and Wisdom cult is, technically, founded by Srk. The others also develop in this time span, along with the hybrid cults (War/Wisdom, Wisdom/Love, etc.)
"The winds of change are blowing again, do you not feel them, brother?" The Crayvens looked at the stone stele, or at least what hadn't been buried under the mountain of thousands of animal skulls they had amassed there as to honor the dead chief, Honorias.
Honorias had been 'The One', to conquer the beasts, nature itself. These giants mammoths were towering mountains that couldn't be defeated, the other large horned herbivores used to move in armies which were impossible to beat, but HE had changed all that, simply by outsmarting them to their doom. The Crayvens had known no end to their prosperity, for a time... The problem had been pressing during Honorias's life but now, with his elevation to divine status in the Other World, it was impossible to deal with anymore. The Crayvens were victims of their own success, they had triumphed and now there was... nothing, nothing left at all. All the animals had jumped to their doom, in holes dug with spikes in them, off cliffs, etc. They had learned to preserve the food through drying or other methods, but the endless boon Honorias had given to them had come to an end.
He had two sons that had survived to adulthood, the others proved so eager to prove themselves they all died of quite unnatural causes, one falling off a tree, another chopping one down and having it fall on him. One was even struck by lighting and another went to explore behind the mountain and never came back. And countless other stories. Glorian had proven himself already by succeeding in one of the many silly tasks he had tried, one that hadn't resulted in his death like his other brothers, he had managed to domesticate animals, keep them in captivity. Keeping the food alive was much more practical for its conservation than any other means, plus they could have it reproduce and get other benefits, such as milk and a thing some Crayven had made called 'Cheese'. Lowa however had always proven to be the most traditionalist, trusting in history. He was a master hunter and a genius tactician, as well as one of the main reasons this mess was so bad. His genocidal ambitions most certainly didn't make life for the wildlife last any longer.
"Our father only just died and yet, already you ready yourself to scavenge his legacy. Typical." Glorian smiled and held his chin high. "Somewhat in a similar fashion you throw a herd of a cliff and move on to scavenge its flesh. Such is our way, what matters is survival dear brother." Lowa turned away from the stele and looked at his brother. "Skip to the point you backstabbing and blundering idiot. I know you're planning to just turn around and leave, flee like a coward with your beasts and the other creatures of questionable intelligences that will follow you. I will have none of it! I am the oldest and I am chief now. So either you make your move now, or you shut your mouth for the rest of your, most certainly, very short life." There was a silence. "So... duel then?"
"One on one, not two on one." Glorian smiled on top of his mount. "Is the great hunter afraid of a small herbivore? And anyways, it is not a he or a she, its an IT. It serves me as a tool. Who is the strongest I ask? Both you and I can kill a beast, but I managed to tame its wild, to submit it to my will and so, it does my command." Lowa remembered one of his brothers that tried to do that. Broke his neck and was never spoken off again. But Glorian... He managed to do it. Use the beast as a transportation mean... and now he'd try and use it as a mean of fighting. And so the duel went on. Lowa knew of how tough a beast could be, it was why the Crayvens didn't fight them directly, they led them to their doom. But it wasn't an easy task gaining the advantage as the one controlling the beast was Glorian who knew most of his tricks. Glorian probably wasn't half the hunter Lowa was, but he worked with pure animal strength, speed and stamina. Lowa's stone lance could barely act, as Glorian throned above his mount, ready to exploit the openings Lowa would give him to attack the mount and vice versa. Enough of this thought Lowa, he didn't have the stamina to continue and he was really in a two against one fight. He took his spear and charged the animal, penetrating his heart with the stone tip of his weapon. Unfortunately for him, Glorian's foot went and gave a devastating blow to his jaw, he felt the chitin break under the impact. The animal fell as Lowa did. A moment after, as he looked up from the ground, Glorian's lance penetrated his torso. He could only stand in awe as his brother stood triumphant above him, his only wound on his leg when his mount fell on it.
And so, the Crayven tribe went on to the south, to greener pastures, vast plains, open land. As they went on, the Legacy of Glorian, the first equestrian went on in the Crayven way of life. Nature was there to be tamed, its beasts, domesticated. Such was the ultimate triumph, not merely destroying its enemy, but enforcing your will on him.
Cultural: Tribe moved south (OOC: Anyone wants an encounter?)
Religious: Stele of Honorias erected, Honorias named as the first true diety and the legend of how he managed to destroy nature so bad his own tribe almost had to starve spreads. At his death, Glorian achieves such a status for leading the Crayvens to Greener Pastures using beasts at his command.
Industrial: The Crayvens Master riding.
The Onhua tribe were waking to a graceful morning. The flying animals named Breedors were in the sky, and the three Tribe Elders; Sunnah, Rennah and Thorndah were sitting round the embers of the night before's fire. The Dearo that had been killed for a meal by the hunters last night was stripped to the bone, the usually white structure was charred and slightly reddned. Dearos were not easy to bring down. Their soft, light steps were unhearable in the forests around the camp, and could hear the slightest whisper from the quietest of men.
"Do you think we will find the Liona today? Rennah whispered. He was the oldest in the tribe, and was the wisest. Thorndah was the youngest of them, a good warrior in his day.
If we do not, we will need to move South. There is not enough power in these trees anymore. Thorndah replied.
Sunnah sat quietly. She was the only woman left of the elders. Her sister Lindeerah had been killed by the Liona, a large creature with a sandy coat a mane of power and jaws of bloodthirst. It had been slowly picking off members of the tribe, and many were know in panic that the Onoures were punishing them for passing easily through winter. Even though three children had died in the harsh snow, and another taken by the Liona, the tribe would still have two children, one male, one female. The children had now passed four winters and the boy was learning how to hunt from his father, who's father in turn was Thorndah himself. The girl was a slim child, a beautiful tawny colour to her skin made her easily relatable to Sycamore, her mother the healer.
Rennah frowned.We shall wait another day. We cannot risk losing more of the tribe. If we are being punished, the Onoures will want us to struggle through, not flee he protested. Sunnah glanced up. The young girl had come out of her family's house. She was looking at the Elders with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Sunnah stood and walked over to her.
What troubles you at dawn child? she asked, stroking the girls smooth face. Unlike the older women of the tribe, the girls' face had not been scarred by fires, winters and wolves. She was a pretty thing.
I fear the Liona she answered, her small face trembling as she glanced around the woods. Sunnah smiled
The stars did not fear it, and the Onoures would not let anything happen to you child
Rennah and Thorndah were still arguing as Sunnah returned to the fire. The girl had returned to her tent to wake her mother, so Sunnah wanted to have her say in the decision
We should move downstream, follow the Great River to the plains Thorndah argued.
And leave all this behind? Rennah exclaimed
We should. Sunnah interjected flatly. Both turned to look at her. There is less Dearo for the Liona to hunt. Downstream there are more Breedors and fish to hunt. There is a large plain, we would see if the Liona approached she explained
And so that day the Ohuas moved downstream by about 2 miles. They arrived at the plain by nightfall, carrying meat and fruits and the last precious healing medicines they had. There was plentiful Breedors, so it was a small Breedor each for a meal, with red fruits. The men assembled small huts out of wood and Dearo skin as the sun went down on the first day of spring
Culture: A system of hierarchy has been in place, with different ranks and jobs. The tribe lives by a river as a source of water.
Religious: Onoures are their Gods, spirits of those before and animals they kill
Industrial: The tribe have discovered medical purposes within plants and have created very basic medicine for influenza, wounds and pain-numbing
(OOC: Wernher I fancy an encounter)
The Heaint community were grateful for the light winter as it left them with less snow to dig through to get above ground from their warm burrows underground. It was now that the community would decide if the large plains that were home were suitable to sustain them through the next year to come. It had a river in the distance where a tunnel had been made to link the burrows where the food was kept in thick, dry baskets to make nourishment a short task while the moles continued to dig, carve, and shape to make what they will to support themselves as well as a hilly highland leading up to a large mountain to the north of them where many speculated harder rocks were. However, one of the oldest moles sat above ground looking around him at what he saw and where this wasn't entirely common what with the normally poor eyesight of the Heaint it held significance with the individual's actions. There were several small slabs of rock surrounding the mole which allowed it to lightly scratched along with its claws making light, thin indents resembling what it saw in in the general area.
Why do none of the others shape rock as I? If it has little purpose it is discarded or dismissed.
It was food for thought in the mind of this old mole named Olsung with which he often brought up in the community as something they needed and what they needed was an identity beyond tireless diggers. Olsung made an impression not long after with children who were not old enough to safely leave the burrows but wanted to see what it was like outside them which brought on a demand from several families who spread the news of this interesting carving technique with pictures of the landscape and other animals. It became a better way of showing others what they meant rather than making a return trip to the site they were thinking of as instead a stone slab could be used to carve images into which helped to create another way to communicate beyond the normal vocalizations using wheezes, snuffles, or growls. Olsung was put in charge of making them during his lifetime along with others who wished to do so as long as they were needed, some broke but replacements were always available.
"These slab images are useful yes, they have been for a long time but there is a problem. The wear out or break easily because of their shape which makes us replace them time and time again." A strong young mole explained out among a group of peers who got into a discussion about what they had been doing for a few decades now.
"Why do we not shape the rock out as we mean? Then we would not have to strain our eyes or noses to decipher the etchings as much." The next voice was the twin of the other mole who like his brother wanted change much like Olsung before them.
The twin brothers Kenit and Lonet each held up small crude sculptures of animals that caught the eyes of the crowd with interest in the new rock shaping. Some of the older moles were unimpressed saying that they could do better and the twins challenged them along with anyone else who wished to attempt to make better to go ahead and try to do so. This competition was to be the first of many between the majority of the community causing greater motivation to carve well which eventually spread to the tunnels they made which became smoother allowing easier movement and transport of food or stone. But more than this it gave the moles something to have pride in, a cultural activity all could enjoy while bettering themselves in the same motions. The twins were looked at similarly to Olsung in his day but made a difference despite resistance because of old ways and many came to respect these revolutionaries of their times once the effect of their change took over.
In time some moles wished to see what was beyond the hills and beyond the river that were landmarks to the plain dwellers. Some went to the river making a couple of burrows for sleeping as well as crude huts with smooth stone and wood but found that the cool, moist air surrounding the river made food storage difficult so with some spare wood the smaller break-off community place circular pieces of wood atop the baskets to keep more of the air out which served well when dealing with a new found food sources around the water where small creatures lived in which would come to interest the moles for decades to come as they watched them and carved them. The smaller splinter that went north composed of the best and strongest diggers who wanted to have a more challenging dig, they stopped around the hills were they would eventually move on from finding less resources but learning of lids from the main community in the plains.
Culture- The Heaint take up using stone work as a way to communicate and as a communal activity, pride for work is developed by Olsung and the Twins urgings among the community.
Movement- Small splinter communities move within the vicinity of the northern hills and closer to the river.
Industrial- Stonework becomes more refined among the Heaint allowing sculpting alongside basic pictographing to be created and slightly improved food storage through the invention of a wooden lid for baskets.
One Hundred years later
The time passed, the tribes grew and became stronger. Times for the past one hundred years has passed peacefully, without conflict. Onhua tribes began to live a slightly longer time. Their old people began to enjoy a slightly better life than neighboring tribes because of the knowledge of herbs. Other tribes began to advance significantly, and some grew more in number. The century ended, and stories continued. People were beginning to forget the old days, before the time of the tribes.
Demetrias looked at the plant, his plant. It came out nicely and soon the tubercule, a vegetable of brown skin and with an edible white flesh (Read: Potato), would be ready to be harvested. It was a new invention, HIS new invention. It had been so simple really, a matter of reflection about the circle of life: Nut falls of oak, new oak. Surely nature had its weird ways of reproducing no? Trees had sap, their blood, which meant they were closer to Crayven kind than rocks. Finding how plants reproduced was just a matter of guessing and when the tribe stayed put for more than a few months, he had managed to lead his experiment to success. This had been some seasons ago. No need to go out in the wild anymore, no need to scourge the land for food. Well, meat was still nice. Most certainly the largest trouble he had was convincing the tribe it needed to NOT eat it all, as to have vegetables left to seed next time. Food was now plentiful, as were the people. The hunters however had lost significant number, the winds of change were blowing. Although some people had problems with this, since after all his exploit was not as visually impressive as that of Honorias or Glorian, Demetrias knew it: He had made history and changed the tribe and its ways forever. Glorian had tamed animals and Demetrias had tamed plants.
This new abundance of food as well as people had not however changed the tribe in only sedentarity, but also in the ways its members interacted with each others. As historians would call it, it was the start of clanism. It was simple: You do what you can to acquire what you need to survive. This rule had however an interesting point: If you are strong enough, nothing, no law or rule prevents you from simply taking what you wanted. If a weaker individual could not keep it, then it was rightfully yours. But then again, the 'Mob Rule' was also as legitimate as any, if a group of people decided to beat you up for your actions, it was as legitimate as everything else. The Tribe was no longer a single large family with everyone watching over each other, but rather it had broken down in 'Clans', individual families or sometimes groups of people close to each other looking out for themselves. Cooperation between clans was of course essential, no clan was self sufficient and the clans tended to specialize. A farming clan offered its harvest to a hunter clan in exchange for meat as well as protection in case another clan demanded to fight for the farmer's food.
Ultimately, there were two main Clans, Clan Demetrias which had many other clans working its fields and herding animals in exchange for food, and Clan Glorian which hunted and in general kept the peace with its union of all other hunter clans under its dominion. In short: Demetrias was the chief of the non-fighters and Glorian of the fighters, they both had an agreement to watch on each other, Demetrias being the backbone of food production and in general crafting, keeping order within the villages and Glorian, bringing furs and big games back to the clan as well as organizing hunting parties to fight predators and keeping the clans from ever fighting each other.
North of Crayven Territories.
The hunt had lasted for a few days now but only small games had been captured. Galiante, leader of the party, great great grand son of Glorian and future head of the Glorian Clan was, however, on the trail of a large one. It had been wounded and had fled toward the hills, but they'd get it or it would bleed out anyways. Right now one of his men was on the ground, looking at the trail left by the animal. "Yes, less than an hour ago, we're gaining ground." The antman went back to his mount. Galiante smiled. "Good, good... Wait... what's this? Over there. Does anyone recognize these beasts? I've never seen such a beast before." He looked out and raised a hand above his head to block the sun, it was some kind of biped but he could only see its form, the sun being on the other side. The others looked in the same direction. "I don't know. We've never been this far north east before, maybe its new." Another spoke. "It walks on two legs, Crayvens? But they're so... small. Kids?" Galiante raised his shoulders in ignorance. "Only one way to see, lets check them out. The winds fortune the bold no?" On this he made his Zwot (Read: Chocobo) advance at a brisk pace, the others followed him.
It took some times before the 4 creatures noticed them but when they did, they began to run. Outrun a Zwot bred by Clan Glorian? Galiante had a chuckle. "Whatever it is, it is slow as a slug!" So said another Crayven. Soon enough, the 4 things were surrounded around a tree by the riders who stopped to look at these things which seemed to pause no threat.
"What is this thing? With two little... arms and those legs?"
"I think they're cubs, watchout, mama may be close somewhere."
"I wonder how they taste."
They spoke and begin to point at them. Galiante went forward, not leaving his Zwot and slide on the side a bit, going low enough to grab one of them with his hand, it tried to dodge, but got caught by its leg. He struggled, being lift in the air upside down. Galiante quickly grappled with him to neutralize him and begin to probe him, seeing where the meat was the thickest and opening its mouth to look at its teeth. Suddenly he felt pain on his head and he looked at the 3 others. One had rocks in its hands and another a branch he had found nearby. Galiante didn't feel danger, but rather amazement. "Oh look! These little things can use tools! Makes sense I suppose, look at these tiny thumbs." He smiled deviously, something which obviously scared the little one he held even more. "...I wonder if they can manipulate a plow and plant seeds. Oh yes, if these are indeed cubs, they may be the best work animals we will have found yet." There was a swift whack and the Zwot looked down before counter attacking the small one with a branch that had just hit him with a feet to his face. The unarmed one tried to jump on Galiante to get his weapon but was quickly neutralized, even while holding another one. The one with the rocks was running for it but another Crayven caught it.
Farther away, members of the Heaint community observed the Crayven hunters. They had been sent to fetch back some of their young who went to the surface to see what it was like, it often happened and only very rarely did predators get this far out of the forest, but it was still dangerous, not that the youth cared most of the time. This however, a bunch of 4 armed giant ants on two legs riding feathery bipeds and armed with lances however was a new and alarming sight for sure.
Industrial Action: The tribe spreads along the river, now dubbed 'Narth'.
Technological Action: Crayvens invent agriculture, this along with their preservation techniques and hunting mastery brings an abundance of food.
Cultural: The family, the clan identity, becomes more important than the tribal one, or at least more immediate in their concerns.
The spring rains began at the dawn after the third moon, sooner than expected and ending the warm winter the Jilinth had enjoyed. As the rains continued on steadily and the sun came up slowly, the people that had spread out on the southern side of Requar began to rise themselves. They came out of the caverns and lean-tos that had begun to spread out increasingly along the mountain's side, and set about their work gathering, hunting, teaching, and carving. They had become quite proficient at shaping the wood blocks into the simplified pictures, but now there were other carvings that began to emerge from the work places. Large pieces of felled trees shaped into the depiction of the Wyrms and set about in various places, though for all of the aspects that were placed in the hills around the mountain's base (there were about 5 in total set around the mountain) 4 were given special honors. They were carried and dragged up treacherous terrain until they reached the peak of the mountain, now Requar unlike other peaks did not have a perpetual snow cap but it was still bitterly cold up there at the tail end of winter. It was here that a small group waited for dawn, and when the first rays creeped up over the horizon the first totem was placed facing the newly risen sun, it was the Totem of light, placed on its opposite was the totem of Dark, the other two being the totems of Life and Death we both placed at the middle of the distance between the others, so that each on faced North (Death) South (Life) East (Light) and West (Dark).
Serac stirred as the sun reached through the small gaps in his lean-to, the glare was soon enough that the hunter abandoned any hope of sleeping further. Yawning he rose to a sitting position and inched his way out of the wooden structure that was set up, like so many others, outside the crowded caves on the southern side of the mountain. As he went to check with the others about the day's plans he soon walked by a small pool of clear water, and a fine piece of a strong wood pole at the bottom of the pool. Sighing he walked over and lifted it up out of the pool. The cold dark wood gave slightly as Serac experimentally pushed down on its end, indicating it had been soaking for a day or two. Bored and still messing the the stick Serac wandered around for a bit bending the stick, just when he was about ready to discard it something odd happened. He accidentally let go of one of the sides. It arched out and struck the butt of a spear that had been laid on the ground, sending it flying and embedding it slightly in the ground a few feet away. Stunned by this he tried it again several times before the pole warped into a slight C shape. Disappointed Serac bent it one last time, but this time both of his hands slipped and the pole snapped back into the slight C shape violently. Serac with a new rekindled hope for a new discovery tried multiple times to find a way for the thing to launch something, he was in this process of experimentation when one of his friends ,that had returned from a day of hunting, suggested that Serac tied something to the wood so it would be flung with it. Taking this to heart Serac 'appropriated' a few strands of sinew from that day's kills. After cutting notches in the side of the top and bottom of the pole, he wound the sinew together and tied each end of the string to each notch. Now he needed something to fire, the spears proved to big and heavy, and rocks simply fell out. Thinking quickly he asked one of the various wood workers for assistance. The result was a shorter straight shafted spear with a smaller stone head. It work perfectly, except for accuracy problems, even that was quickly remedied by adding a few feathers unto the end. Soon the process of how to make 'Bows' was recorded by the presses and made common knowledge, as the years went on new refinements and designs quickly shaped the simple wooden tool into a deadly, precise, and capable weapon.
Years after the invention of the Bow a small hunting party is stalking a band of herbivores through the forest. The soon catch up with the group and manage to drop a fair number of them before the others get away. As they begin to skin the catch a few of the hunters come to sudden realization that they are not alone, a few Wargs were prowling around the small clearing, not much more than a packs worth. As they watched the fearsome predators stalk around them a few of the party began to ready their arrows when they were recalled by the leader. "These ones a half starved" He said to calm his hunters "Leave them some scraps. Better yet leave them what we can't carry or preserve." The other hunters were stunned by this, help predators? Yet they followed the directions of the hunt leader. As they were finishing up it looked like the would leave a near full carcass behind for the Wargs. Ripping off a piece the Hunt leader foolishly walked towards the snarling animals in his hand the bloody meat. Holding it out he waited for what seemed like a small eternity before the largest of the bunch move forward and tentatively grabbed the meat out of his hand and crept back into the forest. At this the Hunter smiled, his Life pendent twisting in a slight breeze. This near ritual continued on for almost 8 full lunar cycles and as it progressed the entire hunting part got in on it, each giving away a scrap to a different Warg. At the end of the 14th Lunar cycle of the practice the hunting party returned to the tribe with a Warg pack in tow. As the years begain to march on the Wargs became more and more ingratiated into Jilinth society, as hunting partners, guards, and companions.
Industrial: The Jilinth create bows, greatly increasing their ability to hunt and protect themselves, allowing the tribe to grow even more.
Religious: The foundations of the Ak'Vera are technically placed (The four totems on the summit)
Culture: The Jilinth domesticate the Warg
Turn One – 100 years.
The Winter is easy for the Drass this year, though it often is where they live to the south – an area that the people call Seynaris. It is often warm and the summers are hot and on occasion there can be droughts, though they have been fortunate in that the summer before was wet and warm. The old Skarron (Tribal Leader) was killed in a duel with a young Drass named Rikar, immediately he decreed that he was the most powerful person who would ever be, and that he could not be killed – daring any who believed otherwise to challenge him and see the truth. Not a single Drass stepped forwards and Rikar’s dominance of the people was absolute. He ordered a grand dwelling built – and increased the number of worker Drass by holding a tournament in which all of the hunters competed, and those who came last were stripped of their roles and made to become workers, which held less status and were forced to perform any tasks which other Drass considered beneath them. To enforce this he formed a group of the best hunters and made them his own Skiri, who serve as both his body guard a personal ‘lackeys’ doing whatever task he sets them - in exchange they are well rewarded with the best of the tribes goods, food and women.
At the same time, a family of Drass observes that any animals that consume a certain plant become so docile that they stop moving completely, after some experimentation they find that this plant seems to stop animals from moving, but they do not die and after several hours once again become mobile. One member of the family, who is fascinated by this event tries the plant himself, but finds that it has no effect at all on him. He comes to the conclusion that this plant contains a mystical force which favours him, and begins to talk about controlling this force and how to keep it happy so that it ignores the Drass and only targets other creatures. Through discussion the family decide that everything is controlled by such forces which must be kept happy in order to continue favouring the Drass. The family presents its findings to Skarron Rikar and show him the plant and explain what they have discovered. Thoroughly convinced by the plant Rikar charges the family with cultivating this plant and learning all they can in order to please the spirits – and also that they must discover as much as they can in order to discover more abilities granted by the spirits to the Drass. They become the first Shamans of the Drass.
After several years of rule under Rikar a young hunter challenges the strongest Skiri to a fight to the death, a result of both of them wanting the same woman – the Skiri argues that he has higher status and as such cannot be challenged, however Skarron Rikar after some contemplation disagrees and agrees to the young hunters challenge. He states that the winner shall take possession of all of the losers belongings and will also be granted the title of Skiri-va, the leader of the Skiri and the next most important member of the tribe. The fight is viewed by all Skiri, Hunters and the new Shaman class. After an intense battle, which the other Drass find most gripping and entertaining, the Skiri is victorious and kills the young hunter before the tribe. The head of the Shaman declares that the spirits have strongly favoured the new Skiri-va, and are as such pleased by the battle. Skarron Rikar decrees that such battles will become an annual event – that each four seasons a hunter Drass or other Skiri must challange the Skiri-va in order to please the spirits.
Cultural: Development of the new Skiri class and development of the Skiri-va, the leader of the class. The Drass also develop a system of replacement through combat in order to please the spirits and be rewarded through ‘gifts’ which benefit the tribe.
Religious: A family becomes devoted to the spirits, forming the beginning of the ‘Shaman’ class. A belief that there are forces beyond the living spreads through the Drass and they begin to attempt to understand and please these forces.
Industrial: The Shaman class begins to learn about a plant which appears to cause temporary paralysis in creatures other than the Drass, and begin to cultivate this plant and attempt to learn more about it and discover any other potential plants which may serve other purposes.