A noble world much like our own circles around a medium-sized yellow star, on the outer rim of a spinning spiral galaxy. Though the sentient inhabitants of this world come in many different forms and shapes, with many different cultures and ideas, they have but one name for it: Nova Mondial. This day, however, on this lush and vibrant world, is like no other before it. It is a day without precedent, the beginning of a grand and beautiful story, full of war and terror, peace and love, and rising and falling, emerging slowly throughout the world. On this day the very first of this world's civilizations are about to arise, with the strike of flint against a rock and the rise of the ensuing flame. It rests on you to decide if you will join this story without end: the Civilization Roleplay.



Hello everyone, and welcome. The central concept of this RP is that of a planet in which multiple sentient species have developed, and are on the verge of forming the first civilizations. It is an incredibly open-ended concept with a lot of opportunity, which is why its first edition lasted three years on the Spore Forums. As a veteran of that old RP, I have been inspired along with a few of my fellow old players to create a new story. One with a different set of races on the same world, bound for a different destination. There are no plans to connect the old RP's universe to this one, but it draws inspiration from it and I hope that it will inspire the same variety of races and cultures, the same struggles of diplomacy and war, and the same enthusiasm and creativity it inspired in me when I first joined. This roleplay is not just about international relations, war, or technology, though. Its focus is primarily on developing cultures, stories, characters, and other things along the way. Other things will develop broadly and more gradually with time. I hope you will join me in creating a world from nothing, with only the sparks of our imaginations. Without further ado, I will establish the rules.



Guidelines for the sign up sheet are as follows: Your species must have characteristics reasonably close to that of humans, in terms of strength, speed, intelligence, etc. Deviation from this is only allowed if you have a corresponding weakness, for example a race with arrow-proof scales that is not as intelligent or a race that can fly that is also extraordinarily weak.

Everyone must start at a basic tribal level with technology such as rudimentary wood tools, cloth weaving and fire making. You can list two technologies that your species has that are above that basic level, for example archery, agriculture or stone tools. Your species can start with either one large village or several nomadic groups, but if you choose nomadic, you don't start with agriculture. How your culture uses them is up to you.

Name of Race:
Pic/Description (either one, but both is preferred):
Racial Characteristics (things specific to the race):
Race Bio (personality, etc.):
Location on Map:
Techs (specifically those not already given):

(Please post this in the OOC for approval.)



Physical:


Political:


1. Mihndar- Cindorayi
2. Aweirdgamer- Platta
3. MangoJuice- Rokthan
4. Neruu- Alvith
5. Valkyr- Saurians
6. Nerevarine- Arsurón bära̋kH
7. Joegreenbeen- Herenthor
8. Elitestpotato- Snow Brutes
9. Diehard243- Soruli
10. Reindeer- Ashen Hounds
11. Shoggothought- The Society
12. Father Dagon- Night-Walkers
13. orangebox- Uaru
14. WendigoRoss- Ungly-hai
15. Veoline- Isáwa



GMs: Mihndar, Aweirdgamer, MangoJuice, Neruu

1. No spam, especially in the In-Character thread.
2. No god-modding, insta-killing, insta-building (including walls), destruction unless the attacked agrees, and no meta-gaming (using information your race wouldn't know IC).
3. Combat should be fair, of course, and before any battle, you should post the stats of your troops, any buildings, and any other details. Though this is not required, it can help settle arguments.
4. Keep it realistic. Earth science is preferred, but I don't expect you to be a scientist. Just keep it real.
5. Though this is based on Spore, you aren't limited to the things you can do in that game. There's a lot you can do; be creative.
6. Correct spelling and grammar. Try to avoid short posts except for dialogue. Two paragraphs would be nice at minimum.
7. You must get my clearance or another GM's to start.
8. If you want to drop out, say so before hand. Randomly disappearing doesn't really help anybody.
9. Consequence. If you are in a war, your people suffer. If many of your soldiers die, you lose the battle.
10. Take your time in development.
11. If you didn't post it, it never happened.
12. Telephoning (back and forth posting between two or three people) is only allowed if it is just dialogue. Generally, you should wait until two or three other people have posted before going again.
13. Following the path of technological development humans did is NOT required, but a logical time to pass before discovery of something is.
14. No In-Character posts that are nothing but saying nothing much is happening or someone is waiting for an answer. If you are waiting for someone, PM them or say so in the OOC.
15. Any form of traveling occurs during In-Character posts, unless it's pre-agreed upon to just occur by real-time.
16. Absolutely NO insulting other people.



-Let me know, by PM or post, if something needs changing or updating.
This may be updated at any time, but most of the things are pretty standard.

-If you want to join or have a question, please post in the OOC thread.

-This RP is always in W.I.P. stage. It's never really finished, and we're always adding new things. If you have a suggestion or want to contribute somehow, feel free to PM any GM's and send us your suggestions.

-The Cindorayi, Population: 37, Year 0 IL (Inland), The Beginning of Time-

A New Way of Life

In the glimmer of the light of the full moon, thirty small boats, like canoes in structure, glided along the surface of the water of the great Edenan Ocean. In each sat an adult Cindorayi, some with small children in their laps. They guided themselves with the small, spiky coral branches they had grown accustomed to using as paddles as they passed ever closer to what appeared to be a small bay in the continent's shoreline.

Sitting proudly in the boat at the forefront of the small flotilla, Lunysvet, the Great Elder, spotted something out of the corner of her eye. She was tall and graceful, and wore a circlet of small turquoise crystals, embedded in coral. Cocking her ears, she turned to look into the center of the inlet they were passing, only to see something that defied her very eyes.

"Everyone, we must stop!" she announced in her firm, authoritative voice. Though she was quite old, age had not diminished her august presence. "That, my fellow Cindorayi, is what we are meant to find." She pointed at the object, which sparkled in the moonlight at the very center of the bay. A collective gasp rose in the others, and they anxiously reoriented themselves to travel into the bay.

---

As their canoes scraped against dry land, the Great Elder was the first one to rise, and she began striding quickly towards the edge of the forest surrounding the bay, where the sparkling object lay. The others followed behind her, at a respectful distance. "What do you think it is?" one muttered to another. "The moonlight going to Lunysvet's head, I expect." the other whispered back. The Elder must have heard, however, as she flicked her tail in annoyance as she continued to approach.

Lunysvet finally reached the object, now evident as an enormous piece of the same crystal she wore on her head, surrounded by a shiny material, and picked it up. She smiled wider than any of the other Cindorayi had seen her smile before, and she tucked it into her robe.

"This crystal is a sign. Never before have we seen such a large moon crystal, especially in plain sight." The Great Elder spoke with such solemn conviction, the stars almost seemed to brighten behind her. "The time has come for our people to finally give up our nomadic ways and settle down, for the first time, on dry land. Many of you know we have long been searching for our home, but you do not know why. All this I will explain to you later. But first, we must build a place for us to live, and begin a new way of life." There was a distinct muttering of unease, but the Cindorayi settled to sleep in preparation for their morning tasks.

~One Year Later, in the Present Day~

An entire year had passed since Lunysvet's announcement, and the Cindorayi people had been working harder than they had ever worked in their entire lives. From virtually nothing except for their pearl knives and coral tools they had brought with them on their boats, they had built for themselves a large village with wood they had cut down from trees and the twine rope they were so adept at making.They made beds from their canoes and dead grass, and adorned many of their huts with the lovely smaller moon crystals that they occasionally found on the ocean floor. As expert fishermen (those coral paddles had more than one use), they had more than enough food for the few new children that had been born. After all this time, the Great Elder still remained silent on why they had chosen to remain here, though her wisdom was not publicly questionable. Finally, one day, roughly a year later on another full moon, Lunysvet asked the others to build a large fire for the night.

---

The sun shortly dropped out of the sky, and the stars once again gleamed on the moonlit night. The logs at the center of the fire sparkled and twinkled with orange tendrils of flame, and smoke wafted up into the sky. Lunysvet rose on the staff she had adopted since landing, and began to speak.

"Very few of you recall the story I am about to tell, and none of you truly remember it. Today, I will recite to you, for what I believe to be the last time, the story of our nation."

"Moons and moons ago, eons and eons ago, our people did not exist on this world. But one day, a star fell from the heavens to the earth, and we emerged. We were confused and scattered, however, and we left from where we emerged because of conflict between us. We are one of the three groups that departed, and no sign of the other two has ever been found. My great-great-grandmother, Zuliya, saw a sign from the moon that said we must return, and started us on our current path. Our way of life was simple, and it always worked. We travel in the direction of the moon, towards the place of the fallen star, over the ocean. We only venture on land to sleep and for when the seas grow too rough. This crystal..." She pulled the object once again out of her robe, and showed it to the others. "This crystal is the last remnant of the fallen star, and is the sign that we must stay in one place once more." She returned it to under her cloak. "It has been a serious adjustment for many of you, and already as a people we are beginning to change. The time of the Great Elders is no more." She took the coral circlet upon her brow, and broke it into pieces, scattering the blue crystals all over the ground, to the amazement of the other Cindorayi. "Tonight, you must choose a new leader, one who will guide us in this new age."

A few minutes of anxious discussion occurred around the slowly fading fire, until Lunysvet's voice once again rose above all others. "I will call your names, one by one, and you will vote for who you believe should be leader." After a short pause for silence to occur, she spoke again. "Anton." The male pricked his ears, and responded, "Ekatyrina." She called the next name, and they also said "Ekatyrina." This process continued for twenty-seven more people, until it became obvious that there would be only one choice. Beaming with joy at the trust and respect the others had for her, Ekatyrina cast the final vote for herself, and the Great Elder bowed in silence for a few moments. Finally she nodded, and took out the crystal, placing it in the young woman's hands. "Ekatyrina, our nation entrusts its future into your hands. As they entrust the future, I entrust the past to you as well. Keep this safe always, until its truth is revealed to us."

"Thank you." responded Ekatyrina, as she bowed to the former Great Elder. Lunysvet bowed in return, and so it was that the Cindorayi nation retired for the night. Just before sunrise on the next day, a spasm rocked Lunysvet's body, and her heart stopped, finally allowing her spirit to join the moon in the sky, or so they would always believe.

"And you're sure about this? There's still time to reconsider, your excellency." A gleaming red serpent says to another, who is colored a dull purple. They traverse up an inclined tunnel to the outside light. The other responds.
"And let our people waste away like a shrub with no water? I wouldn't dream of it."
"As you wish."



The two creatures exit the tunnel to a simple balcony with a view of a vast desert. Bellow the balcony are countless numbers of the same creatures as the first two. They begin chanting. "Shel! Shel! Shel! Shel!" The purple serpent raises his frills to request silence. He speaks.
"Comrades! Family! All who reside in this domain! As I am sure you know, the natural resources of our native land have begun to dwindle. We face starvation... plague..." He looks at one serpent in the crowd. "...war. There is only one solution to this. To find new, fertile lands. To find food for our families. To gather resources and ensure the survival of our people. However, this will not come free. We will go through many hardships. Friends will likely die. But they will not be lost in vain! I know we can be sure of that!"
The crowd goes wild as the red serpent attempts to calm them down. The purple serpent continues after clearing his throat.
"We have lived here for as long as any of us can remember. These lands have supported us since we were created! But now, Ki'Kisc has shown us that our time has come to wrangle the unknown! I have entrusted Vinal Katruzovich, a loyal friend of mine, to oversee the project. Please go to him if you wish to contribute. I know many of you will! Thank you!" The crowd once again cheers and hums in a perfect C Sharp. The two serpents on the balcony slither back into the hole.

Vinal, the red serpent speaks to his purple comrade while they're on their way back to their burrows. "If this goes badly, I fear you... and me will be the target of all those people out there."
"I am aware." Responds Shel in a hushed tone. "But what choice have we? I would rather die trying than hide in my hole and let our entire peoples starve." He slides into a hole in the side of the tunnel. "And besides, if this effort fails, will there be anybody left to betray us?"
They stare at each other for a few seconds.
"Shomal Ki'Kisc, Shel." says Vinal.
"Shomal Ki'Kisc, Vinal." responds Shel.

The Rokthan | Population; 254 | Year 0

The morning light shone dimly but beautifully through the forest canopy. The air was filled with the sound of twittering birds and the rustling of leaves. Some short distance away was the gentle sound of the lake's water moving slightly in the wind. All was calm and relaxed.

In the forest stood an animal they had called teskur. The gnu-like creature was tall, possibly 5 feet at the shoulders. Its fur was a rich dark brown color. The creature was herbivorous and quite cowardly. It would've seemed quite harmless if it hadn't been for the large tusks that extended from the corners of its mouth. The tusks were longer than the teskur's own snout. It was a common prey animal for the carnivores of the forest, but the teskur certainly left many with large gashes and wounds.
It was the perfect honorable kill.

Not too far away were the crouched Saurians. One of them was called Sithalin, the chieftain of their tribe. One of his scaly hands gripped a short but thick spear, the other hand rested on the shoulder of the Saurian next to him. The Saurian was his son, Senith. Today was the day that his son would turn 10. The day he would finally age adulthood. His son anxiously gripped his spear tightly. It was a bit rough, but still an effective javelin. It had not taken Senith very long to make the spear. He had finished it before Sithalin had even started his. He destined to be a great hunter.

"Son," Sithalin hissed quietly.

"Y-Yes, father?" Senith worriedly replied.

"Now is your time. I guide you no more," Sithalin said, "This shall be your kill alone."

Sithalin lifted his spear and rested it on the ground infront of himself. He raised both hands and gently patted the area of chest over his heart, signifying peace.

"Go now," Sithalin commanded silently, "Prove the world you are not a hatchling."

Senith gulped and nodded. His grip on the spear did not loosen as he stepped forward. He kept crouched to the ground, afraid of alerting the teskur. He moved silently over the forest bed, never making a sound. When he was close enough to the Teskur he reversed the grip of his spear and held it up with one arm. His expression steeled and threw the spear with all his strength. The spear flew through the air, directly headed for the teskur's side. The teskur noticed the threat too late. The spear sank into its side, but the teskur did not fall.

Senith had wasted no time. He had watched the other hunters, and he knew what to do. He dashed throught the forest, no longer making an effort to hide his position. At the sight of him, The teskur let out a roar of protest. Sithalin tensed as the teskur turned towards Senith. It was not retreating, it was going to fight back.

Senith quickly diverted his direction slightly and flew past the teskur, ripping the spear out of its side as he did. The teskur let out another protest and turned around to face him again, huffing in rage. Senith raised the spear again but not to throw it. He cautiously approached the teskur, his spear extended towards it. It tossed its head and charged. Senith threw himself out of the way as he jabbed wildly with the spear.

It sank into the beast's neck. The teskur quickly slowed down and began breathing hoarsely. It finally collapsed on its side, its stomach heaving. Senith took a moment to recover before picking up his spear again. He stood over the creature, his spear raised above his head, and delivered the killing blow.

-

That night, the village celebrated. The whole village had crowded around the giant campfire that marked the very center of the village. There was certainly much reason to rejoice. Not only had the chieftain's son become an adult, but it had been through the kill of a teskur. Very few Saurians were capable of defeating a teskur for their first kill. Everyone was allowed to eat a part of the teskur, and the hide was saved.

"You will use this, Senith," One of the huntresses explained, "When you make your hut. Teskur hide is tough, very tough. It will be a good hut."

Sithalin nodded approvingly. In time, Senith would find a wife, and then they would build the hut. The village would once again be expanded. A time he was eager to see happen.

Sithalin yawned wearily. He patted Senith's shoulder and stood. He made his way away from the campfire and back to his own hut. He lifted his hand to hold open the doorway's leaf curtain and stepped inside. It was a tiny, one room building made out of furs, leaves, and logs. It was larger than the other huts of the village, but it was otherwise identical to the rest. Sithalin quietly lay down in his corner and pulled a fur blanket over himself.

With that, he quietly dozed off to sleep as the rest of the village continued to eat and sing the night away.

Time: Era of Gray (no precise timekeeping system developed)

Platta Civilization
Population: 40

The Doings of the Day
It is the early stage of the day. The Platta are awake and have traveled to the center of the town to discuss the plans of the day. Each group or individual, depending on their type of labor, brings a crude flag of the color that represents them. In total, 12 different groups are present. The meeting looks roughly like this from a top-down perspective:

(Each color representing a group, with orange as a background)

The Platta consider color very important in their culture, and because of this, they dissect color by four dimensions, of red, of green, of blue, and of level of brightness. These colors are their guide to many actions in life. Planning is no different.

This makes their government structure complicated but it works like this. Each dissection represents a meaning. Red is the color of order. Green is the color of life. Blue is the color of place. The brightness represents activeness. The darker represents caution and wisdom. The lighter represents bravery and productivity.

Each group's color marks their labor efforts. At the discussions, the groups discuss seen needs, and how to achieve them, while the role of the black and white are mediators. Specifically, black is the mediator of disagreement, which makes sure the disagreements are resolved with mutual benefit. The white is the mediator of agreement, to make sure agreement is well understood. These mediators tend to circle the group, while the rest stay sitting.

The gray, which is done by a single being, is the mediator of all as well as oral secretary. Their right to speak is only in the need of an emergency decision or information about prior events. Otherwise, their only role is listening.

Today's biggest discussion remarks the question of exploration. Although life is stable in the area lived in, the light green group (life + active = fishers) believe the fishing supply is overall not as high as usual. They think their should be other sources sought, whether in the deeper parts of the water or elsewhere. The light blue (place + active = scouts) agree with this, as they believe their efforts to explore have not been that deep in the recent past. The dark blue (place + inactive = map makers) explain that they think the area of their village and fishing areas are well mapped, and that proceeding with this would require updates and expansion of the records of the known world. Most don't see any problem with this, though, if it means more food. While maps might need to be redrawn to account for new sources, it is not seen as an unreasonable request. The black (mediator of disagreement) negotiates this tension noting this could inspire new insight into the life from the unseen sights.

Overall, the discussion is as it usually goes, somewhat long but without conflict. The Platta attend to their determined duties. The scouts prepare to explore to the south (they don't know that, though) to follow the suspected path of the fish on where they have traveled to. A map maker, Darbu, travels along bringing some dyes and some cloth to mark the features of the new sights. They don't have a concept of the written word, so it is a more visual representation. Darbu is optimistic about the journey, unlike most of the other map makers thinking that this will be a rare opportunity to see firsthand an inspiration for new artwork to be made in a coming festival.

Meanwhile, the gray mediator and oral secretary remains in the center of the town collecting the thoughts and rehearsing the discussion in their head repetitively so future questions are ready to be answered. A dark red (order + inactive = general coordinator) group's child asks the first question of the day, "When the time comes to distribute food for the festival, who will pick the food for the gray mediator?"

The secretary answers, "Every child of the black and white mediators shall sort it out in the beginning phase between themselves in the name of practice, and a show of trust to the future of our lives."

"Out! Out! Sun-witch! Kin-eater! Feather-plucker! Get out, out!"

The coast thronged with furious life. Mitts, claws, and tentacles waved in a sea of white feathers and ice-blue eyes that clung to the cliffs like a throbbing paste. Broad wings flapped precariously as those on the edge fought to keep their balance. Stones and sticks flew to clatter and skid across the ice, an ethereal plane lit in a brilliant glow by the rising sun.

Several of the bravest Katyusha - small, white, lithe and feathery things, with feeler-mouths and ocean-eyes - had ventured down the cliffs to stand on the rocky beach at the brink of the ice, waving cane staffs and shouting curses. The object of their rage stood some fifty meters away, not daring to approach the frothing crowd of its kindred on the shore, yet just as loathe to flee into the Great White Unknown. Its talons slipped and clacked on the ice as it scuttled nervously backwards.

With a roar, one of the cliff-dwellers launched itself into the air and, feathers puffed in the chill morning air, soared cleanly downwards; three, five, nine more were quick to follow. The Katyusha on the ice gave a yelp and scrambled away in fright. It hopped, it strained, and its featherless wings swatted mightily at the air, but the creature could not quit the ground. After one more leap the Katyusha resigned itself and put all its energy into bounding away from the rocky beach with its maddened host. Its pursuers flapped up and away and soared back across the ice to the coast, where they were greeted with cheers and swarmed in stifling embraces. As the crowd began to calm and dissipate back beyond the jutting stone cliffs, a lone, sing-song voice drifted like a ghost from far across the white plain, where the fleeing Katyusha had stopped and turned back.

"Horrid forage! Wild beasts!
River shivers! Nothing eats!
Muddied-bloodied, frigid winters,
Scream-dreams, death-days, feather-splinters!
Fish flee, grass die,
Mountains fall, lakes dry!
Brood weep! Children cry!"

But, receiving little response from the faraway cliffs, the Katyusha rested its maw and turned once more into the clear whiteness; in the light of the sun the ice was blinding and the air seemed to shimmer. The plain continued for miles and miles, yet not a speck marred the whiteness in any direction. The creature began its march and this time did not turn back, even as day passed day, thirst came and went, and ground and sky became merged in one singular field of unending blank.

On the cliffs, the most stalwart Katyusha watched as the figure disappeared across the ice, but as the sun climbed higher they each retired to their dens; some had many miles to fly before reaching home. And the sun reached its apex, and fell, and all was quiet on the broad rocky beach.

Alvith Population: 125 - Year 0

The sun would rise to illuminate the crude village of huts made from bones and hide. From the largest hut out came the chief of the Alvith, Chief Skulo Kriivith who led with great strength. The chieftain had ruled for many years and body bore the scars of keeping leadership. Skulo had lost his left eye many years ago in trial by combat but that had not let that get in his way in keeping position as chieftain. Chief Skulo Kriivith walked to center of village taking a seat on one of a collection of stones had been gathered to act as seats around a large flat stone. Upon the flat stone watch carcass of a Ogurk that was having its bones stripped of meat by several adult Alvith. The chief watched as young Alvith were hungrily stripping meat from leg of the dead Ogurk. One of the adult Alvith stripping meat from Ogurk walked over to chief offering a large slab of meat slab of meat. Chief Skulo Kriivith ripped a large chunk of meat off and swallowed the chunk whole.

"Good food, Raclo honor I chief with good meat. How kill of Ogurk?" spoke Chief Skulo Kriivith
"Chief Skulo strong, I serve strong chief. No hurt was good kill, Ogurk sleep before kill. I Raclo hit head Ogurk with rock." spoke Raclo
"Good, Ogurk dead and meat make stronger. All stronger." spoke Chief Skulo Kriivith before returning to eating.
----
Outside the village were the Alvith responsible for watching the Ogurk herd as the hungry Alvith just waking eat first meal of day inside the village. The herd of Ogurk were main food source of the Alvith and a single Ogurk could feed the village for several days. Over two to three day process the Ogurk carcass would be stripped of meat and the meat stored in a hut. While Alvith hunters and gatherers got food as well those responsible for watching the Ogurk and the Chief got the most juicy of the meat. Named for snorting they make sound a Ogurk was a large beast furred with four short stocky legs that each ended in a hoof. Large pair of tusks that curve around and small beady eyes the Ogurk eat the grass of the plains. One of the Alvith watcher for the Ogurk by name of Maule looked to her fellow Alvith Kralo who was sharpening his wooden spear.

"Herd still strong, old Ogurk feed people now. Guide to water soon." Maule spoke.
"Travel soon yes but wait for young one. To learn how to move Ogurk." Kralo spoke as he stopped sharpening his spear.

The two Maule and Kralo would wait for a hour longer before one of the Alvith young exited village. With the young Alvith who would be raised in knowledge of how to herd the Ogurk now done with eating the Ogurk watchers would begin to herd the beasts. The Alvith would spread out along outside of herd in horse shoe shape to direct Ogurk herd towards a watering hole. After the watering hole would also take the herd to graze before returning to village. It was a job with few breaks but paid off in making the watchers of Ogurk herd strong and got best meat. Several hours would pass before the herd of Ogurk arrived at watering hole. The Alvith watchers would take time to drink and slap mud on themselves to help cool off in the heat of the sun.

"Great warmth sun but can cool down." Kralo spoke sticking his wood spear in the dirt.
"Wait till sun go and before moon tall. If moon tall no make back. Sleep with Ogurk if no make back." Maule spoke.
----
Back at the village the Alvith such as Raclo were still working to strip the bones bare of the Ogurk carcass. The bones then would be sorted and those not of use for huts would be broken for the marrow inside. Skulo sat inside his tent to gather his strength. He hid it best he could but Chief Skulo Kriivith was growing older and time of chief would end soon. Some of younger adult Alvith noted the chief spent more time resting but also knew that Skulo was no pushover having kept position of Chief for long time. It had been many moons since last challenger for the elder chief and the chief held no fears towards losing his leadership. As Skulo sat in tent he contemplated own defeat thinking on how defeat would mean people strong with stronger leader than him.

The Cindorayi, Population: 82, Year 3 IL (Inland), Age of the New Moon

The First Discovery

The Cindorayi village had prospered in the first few years under Ekatyrina's leadership. Several new huts had been constructed, and others made homes in caves in the face of the hill that overlooked the water. The main problem that had emerged was the same one they had been facing until now, that their population could not last long on only the fish in the nearby area.

Ekatyrina called the Cindorayi tribe together for a meeting, where she announced her solution. "We must begin trying to forage for plants and berries in the wild if we are to survive in one place. As well, we may need to hunt land mammals for food. We must organize such a hunting and gathering party to try this." In response to the evident dismay present at the idea, she said "We cannot stay on this hill forever. As our population continues to rise, we will eventually have to build villages farther away, so no matter what happens we must venture inland." There was a murmur of reluctant agreement.

The first hunting/gathering party was soon assembled, and they ventured out into the forest. After a few hundred feet of traveling, they found a cluster of bushes with large fruit that seemed quite tantalizing to behold. When Andrei, the leader of the party, pulled one off however, a loud shout of "Stop!" came from the bushes behind them. The Cindorayi party turned around and witnessed in amazement several other Cindorayi they had never seen before filing out of the bushes.

"Who are you? Where are you from, and why are you telling us to stop?" Andrei asked confrontationally. "I am telling you to stop," responded the Cindorayi female in front in a distinctly accented voice, "because that fruit will kill you in three seconds."

Andrei looked at the fruit in his hand, and then dropped it. A mere moment after it hit the ground the fruit poked out large spikes glistening with some kind of poison. Meeting no flesh, it quickly retracted them.

"As for your other questions, I am Viktorya. We are from a small village a few versya* north of here. I already know you have a significantly larger village close to the coast."

"How do you know that?"

Viktorya smiled. "Followed the smoke, of course. We have come to meet with your koroleva**."

Andrei nodded, and he lead the significantly larger party back to the main village, which had been named Lunysvet in honor of the former Great Elder.

"I expected you would be bringing food back, not other Cindorayi, Andrei." Ekatyrina smiled and raised her arms in a V pattern in the traditional Cindorayi greeting. Viktorya responded silently in kind, and then said, "They have." Upon her signal the others who had accompanied her brought forth gifts of many types of fruit and berries from the interior of the continent. Beaming, Ekatyrina signaled to another of the villagers and they brought forth platters of fish as well as a necklace of coral and moon crystals, which they placed upon her neck.

That night there was great feasting and celebration, for two branches of the Cindorayi race had been brought back together. It was decided that regular trade parties should travel between the two villages, the other which was named Zemlyarod, and that they should remain separate for now, but work together in any circumstances of hardship or war. The Lunysvetians taught the Zemlyarodians how to fish and make beautiful necklaces and knives out of coral and pearl, and they received in return knowledge of gathering food in the wild, as well as what plants were useful for medicine or healing. The Zemlyarodians had also discovered that if you placed fruit in the ground, a tree would grow with the same fruit in a few years. Her interest piqued by the idea of a self-sufficient food supply, Ekatyrina planned to test the method further.

---
*A versya is roughly equivalent to 2/3 of a mile or 1.1 km.
**Generic term for leader in Cindorayi culture, with distinctly feminine connotations.

Cliff Sing Wind colony, population 53

Eyes clasped shut, Clear See Far grinned against the cold splash of water on her feathers, soon replaced with the beautiful hum of the underwater ambient. She blinked at the salt as rumbling shapes erupted into the water on either side of her; when the bubbles floated away, three Katyusha were revealed in the dark blue void.

Silver webs washed over Clear See Far's skin as she kicked deep into the current. The best sweetleaf, she knew, grew the farthest down, and Clear had always dreamed of breaking her grandfather's record. She knew she could do it - Clear was the best swimmer the Cliff Sing Wind colony had seen for years, if the broodling gossip was anything to believe - and what better night for it than tonight, the night of the full moon, when the Deep Gardens were brightest lit?

A startled whiskerfish wiggled away from Clear See Far's sweeping arms and wings as she swept past the highest shelf of the Gardens. Though this was a route the young Katyusha had taken many times, she had not yet grown accustomed to the Deep Grip, which set quickly to work on her ears and lungs. But Clear steeled her nerves and dove on.

Past one bed, another, and Clear felt her lungs struggling in agitation. Another night, she hummed to herself, and settled into the soft net of fronds, tearing them free from the dark mud. When she had filled her talons she pushed off from the bed and reached up to the distant blue surface with long, slow strokes. Clear smiled as she past each of her flockmates, who had stopped far above her.

Finally, just as the Katyusha felt her lungs were at their limit, Clear burst from the water and heaved the sweet air in large gulps. She had drifted far away from the diving-log - or perhaps it had drifted from her? - so, with the confidence of a successful hunter, Clear See Far swam briskly back, retrieving the sweetleaf gobs from her talons and packing them into what hollows the divers had not already filled with the stuff. Still recovering from the dive, Clear hung onto the log by an arm and lifted her ice blue eyes to the moon. Yes, yes - another night!

Filled with the primal joy of the animal in its element, Clear See Far tilted her head back and howled a high, vibrant note, which swept across the waters to be joined by the throngs of Katyusha who danced away the moonlight on the rocky shore.

Time: Era of Gray (no precise timekeeping system developed)

Platta Civilization
Population: 40

The Meaning of the Sky
As Darbu and some scouts travel along the west side of the river, Darbu 'paints' in the color of the landscape, with little marks about details such as the apparent fish. Occasionally, a fisher walks into the water and checks to see the level of the fish. It is generally found to be only slightly higher, but not as high as remembered it being in the past. Some fish is gathered for tonight.

That night, the group makes camp, and they discuss progress. Darbu explains the mapmaking is going well. When it is time for sleep, Darbu remains awake thinking about the recently discovered, amazed at how much there was to see. She also wonders why she has to be a map maker thinking scouting would be much more exciting, learning of nature's symbolism. As she looks up into the sky, the question crosses her mind, what is the symbolism of the sky? And she realizes she's never heard anyone answer that. They seem to only be interested in the water, ground, life, themselves, and other Platta. "What is up there? What is it trying to teach? What is the meaning of the sky?" There was no cultural answer to this that she knew.

When Darbu and the others got back to the village, and reported their findings, she asked this question to the gray secretary. They answered, "...I cannot recall the answer. Let me reflect upon the Platta gone, and hear what they have spoken. I will let you know when I have found the answer."

Darbu also asked what they would need to do to become a scout instead of a mapmaker. The gray secretary answered, "Bring this to the attention of the other scouts and mapmakers. They will tell you what you must do to not disgrace your original position, and to bring a showing of goodwill to the new."

The scouts answered, "To join our scouting, find something no one else has."

The mapmakers answered, "Find something to map which will last longer than your life so it is as if you remained a map maker."

Darbu thought about what could do these things, and realized she never saw a mapping of the meanings of the sky. Although she figured the grey secretary would find that soon to correct them, she was wrong...

Saurians, Population: 65
Sithalin woke to the usual sounds of activity in the village. Incoherent chatter, the sharpening of spears, and the occasional shout filled the air. one could hear the sound of rocks striking against each other as a Saurian attempted to light a fire. Above all the noise was the sound of a gentle breeze blowing through the trees. Some distance away, the singing of birds could still be heard.

The hunters discussed prey and new hunting spots. The fishers babbled about rumors of the fish moving away from the usual fishing spots. The children bragged that their first kill would be a teskur like Senith's was. Some of the hunters exchanged jokes and stories over a small fire as they cooked their morning meals.

Some of the hunters and fishers decided to be productive by crafting more spears or refining old ones. Using a specially designed "spear head", they could smooth out and shave the spear shafts. Some of the hunters were getting really good at the task. They proudly carried some of the most aerodynamic javelins in the village. Sithalin himself had refined his own spear after learning how to do it from one of the hunters. He still practiced whenever he had free time.

When Sithalin stepped out of his hut, his spear clutched in his hand, he noticed a group of hunters sitting around one of the huts. He strode over to them and waved his hand in greeting. One of the huntresses glanced at him and turned. She placed both of her fists over her heart and bowed her head.

"Chief," She greeted. The others repeated the gesture. Sithalin dipped his head in response. "We were waiting for you, chief," The huntress continued, "Where will we be going today?"

Before Sithalin could reply, Senith came running from the direction of the lake. He carried his spear and stopped before them, panting slightly.

"Father," He started, "I must join the hunt. I am ready."

"Indeed, you are ready," Sithalin said, "But you will be doing much more than just hunting."

Sithalin turned to the others and explained the plan. Those with harpoons would join Sithalin in a fishing trip to the west. The waters in that direction usually seemed rich with fish. Senith, however, would lead the spears down south. They would scout the swamps further south in search of a certain animal. On a previous trip, Sithalin had briefly come across a large bird he called kryan. They weren't able to catch it, but Sithalin wanted to change that. It was up to Senith to do this.

After a short period of discussion and question asking, the matter was finally settled. The rest of the village waved them goodbye and wished them good fortune as the two hunting parties set off in different directions. Some watched with great anxiety. The young Sanith had never been on a hunting trip, much less to the swamps, and much less lead it by himself. Only time would tell whether this had been a wise decision. Sithalin was confident that Sanith would do fine. He had to.

The Rokthani | Population; 249

Winds from the mountaintops blew dust and gravel down from the cliffs to the desert flats, blindingly gleaming with the light of dawn. Rokthan slithered around in a large, sandy group, awaiting orders from the village leader's assistant.
"Attention, everybody! Please, may I have your attention!" chirps Vinal, the red serpent. "The project is about to begin. I would like to remind everybody to stay within close proximity to other members of your groups and to obey loyally your group's leader!"
The crowd of serpents gradually separated into smaller groups of ten or so.
"The plan is simple. It is up to all of us to find food. As I am sure many of you know already, this is a dire time indeed. Our homeland has forsaken us and can no longer support our numbers. So I need not remind you the importance of these events. If times get tough or there is an emergency, you are welcome to retreat to here, your homeland. Just be absolutely certain that you return as a whole group. Or at least... what may remain of them." The faces of some people in the crowd turn morbid. "But enough of that! Let us look forward to a new age! One of prosperity! One of jollity! One where we may raise our children without fear or worry!"
The large purple serpent Shel slithers in beside him. The ears of the crowd perk up even further. He speaks up. "As I had said in my earlier speech, this will not come easily. But I promise you that this entire land, however large it may be, will belong to us one day. Keep your lights bright and your spirits brighter. Shomal Ki'Kisc!"
Suddenly, a violent roar surged from the crowd. "Shomal Ki'Kisc!" cried the serpents.

That day, practically the entire village begun an exploration to lands outside of home. Their leader, Shel, was part of the largest group, consisting of 18 Rokthani. His group was headed due north through the mountains in search of minerals and soft enough ground to burrow in. The other 19 groups went in various directions away from their home village. 31 Rokthani were left at the village. This population consists of children and caretakers, given the difficult task of maintaining the eggs and insect farms.

The Rokthani knew not what awaited them in their effort, or if it would even be worth it at all. But they knew that they had nothing to lose by trying.

Alvith Population: 125 - End of Age of Skulo and start of Age of Rielo

Many moons had passed since Chief Skulo Kriivith of the Alvith had contemplated his own downfall. As Skulo exited his hut the clouds in sky shaded the village of the Alvith. Chief Skulo took the clouds as omen that his time as chief would come to a end today. Who would prove strength greater the chief did not know. The Alvith by name of Rielo a young adult that carried blood of current chief in his veins would approach the chief. Rielo was son of the eldest son of Chief Skulo Kriivith and thought if blood of chief runs in veins than he can successfully challenge Chief.

"I Rielo challenge chief. Trial combat prove strength greater become chief!" the young challenger Rielo yelled out.
"Strength? I Chief Skulo Kriivith accept challenge. Defeat prove stronger and be chief! I Skulo chief strongest. All watch tribal combat!" spoke Chief Skulo loudly to challenger.

As the chief and challenger Rielo exited village to fight upon the open grass the rest of village would come to watch. For a normal trial of combat between Alvith it was a common occurrence that did not call entire village to watch but for chief to fight the whole village would come to watch. Even those who watch the Ogurk would take part in watching. A large circle of Alvith gathered to see the fight had formed. Standing in the circle unarmed was the current chieftain of the Alvith Skulo pacing around the circle while on other edge inside circle paced Rielo the challenger. Both of the Alvith sizing up the competition. It was clear Rielo had the edge with both of his eyes intact and youthful strength on his die but Scalo had a lifetime of experience in fighting.

"Show this strength! Prove strong to lead!" shouted Chief Skulo.
"Will be chief! I Rielo stronger!" Rielo would shout back in response.

The crowd was quiet watching the two shout right before the start. Both Skulo and Rielo stopped pacing at same time and charged forward clashing in middle of the circle. It was a sight to behold the young upstart verse the elder champion. Rielo lowered his charging straight for Skulo in a head bash and scale smacked scale as Skulo let the younger Rielo bash head straight into gut. The older Skulo was stockier in his old age having more fat to help soften the blow. It happened so fast as Rielo found himself tossed into the air. Skulo had reached down to grab Rielo tossing the younger male right over his head. A loud thud as Rielo hit the ground tumbling across the ground behind Skulo. Confident he was stronger than the challenger Skulo turned around to taunt Rielo.

"Where strength?! Weak! Show this strength!" taunted Chief Skulo.

Climbing back onto his feet Rielo would not lose to some old man. Rielo slammed his tail against the dirt as he looked over Skulo and noticed at how the older male moved into a guard focusing on protecting his gut from another hard blow. It was time for a new chieftain and Rielo saw the opening that was his only chance. Skulo had his guard up, he couldn't take another blow like that again to his gut. When the chief saw his challenger just charge again he got ready expecting another head bash. However it wasn't the same attack as before, Rielo swerved to Skulo's left and it was all over. The chief had his guard lowered expecting a attack from gut but Rielo smacked Skulo right in left side of head sending the older male spinning. Now wasn't time to let up the attack and Rielo knew that with a closed fist slamming into Skulos back knocking the chief down. Skulo fell to his knees but managed to catch himself with his hands then it went black for the chief. A quick kick to side of head and Skulo collapsed to the ground out cold.

"I Chief! I Chief Rielo Kriivith!" the new Chief Rielo Kriivith shouted to crowd gathered.

The crowd had watched in silence would raise hands in celebration and cheering. The Alvith were stronger and new strength would lead them into future. Today would be a day of celebration for all of the Alvith. As the now ex-chief Skulo stirred the new Chief Rielo went to help the old male up. Raclo would leave crowd to help his new chief with getting Skulo back into village. The ex-chief Skulo was needed to start the celebration as he was guest of honor. Fires would burn long into night as for many of the Alvith they had lived under rule of Skulo and another time like this would not come again to celebrate strength of people having grown.

It took a couple of days for Senith's hunting party to reach their destination in the southernmost area of the swamps. They were not far from the exact location where Sithalin had seen the kryan for the first time. This is where the search would begin.

That night, they gathered around a small camp fire. Senith sat beside the fire, watching the lights flicker and dance on the leaves of the trees around them. He payed careful attention to the sounds emitting from the forest and the swamp. He could recognize the voices of birds that lived near the village, but there were differences in the pattern. Amongst the usual birds, Senith could hear at least three new bird. He wondered whether one of those voices was the mysterious kryan itself.

He sighed quietly and curled up on the ground next to the fire, carelessly draping a fur blanket over himself. He had been the last to fall asleep. For the past few days, he was having trouble sleeping. He knew it had to be the stress from leading a party. He was used to following the decisions made by others. Now, every time a question was asked everyone looked towards him. He had already made a few mistakes, much to the annoyance to the rest. He was simply not ready for this.

-

Sithalin stopped at the edge of the lake. He paused to stretch his limbs before diving into the lake. The cool sensation of the water spread across his body. He instantly felt relaxed and free. Completely submerged, he began swimming away from the lake's coast. As he did, he swam deeper and deeper. As his lungs began to ache, he quickly diverted his course and swam straight up. His head burst out of the surface of the water. He stopped to breath for a few moments then took a deep breath as he dived back down. He studied the waters as best as his blurred eyes would allow. There was not a single fish in sight. Worried, he dived straight to the bottom of the lake and studied the sandy floor. Once again, there wasn't a single sign of life that he could see.

He burst through the surface of the water once again. He hissed in frustration as he began making his way back to the coast. The fish had moved again. He couldn't understand why this kept happening. It seemed as though they had to travel farther and farther every time they went for a fishing trip.

"Hunters!" Sithalin yelled for the others, clearly angered. They came running from the camp some distance away as he stepped on shore. "The fish left. We need to keep moving," Sithalin reported. A few of the Saurians exchanged tired expressions. Everyone shared the same thought: how much farther?

Time: Era of Gray (no precise timekeeping system developed)

Platta Civilization
Population: 40

Demands of Complexity
Late that night, the gray secretary visited Darbu and explained, "I have searched back through the words of ancestor upon ancestor, dating to the first secretaries and to the first Platta."

Darbu was excited to learn the meaning of the sky, but realized the secretary seemed disturbed. The secretary continued, "I cannot recall any answer. I am not sure if the sky has a meaning, but at the same time, it seems it must, as all things do. This is a new question, and as is my duty to make decisions of the unknown, I have been thinking about what must be done. I find the answer is a very disturbing one."

"Why? What is it?"

"The sky's meanings show to me the future of the world will not belong to nature, but the Platta. A force equivalent to the works of yellow Platta shall dominate the land beyond the scout's farthest walks. But the scouts of that era will travel even farther. They will communicate of their finds, but it will bring much tension which will change many ways of life."

In Platta symbolism, yellow was the hybrid of red and green, meaning it was the realm of order and life, which translates to engineering. The loss of nature to Platta refers to how engineering is seen as taking from nature for Platta to use. The secretary sees this as the future from the fact the star is yellow. The scout travels come from the light blue look of the sky. Light blue translating as the meaning of the realm of place and courage, or scouting. But as the sky is also darker blue some days, which translates out to the realm of place and caution or messengers and communication, they also see this coming. The large scale of it is from how the sky shows itself everywhere on an unknown scale. The tension comes from how the sky is black at night, which represents disagreement. The secretary is interpreting this as a sign of tensions shall dominate the future.

The secretary continued, "I think you are not fit to be merely a scout of place, but a scout of order, of life, and of place. But you also show the drive to ask of the world. I must ponder about what to do with this in mind. In the discussion tomorrow, I will announce my answer."

And that night, Darbu wondered what was about to happen. She wondered if this would be her death for messing with the order of the Platta, but also knew that the Platta were mostly willing to learn of the new.

At the discussion, the gray secretary explained what had happened with Darbu, and the answer. They said, "Change is coming from all directions, so we must go meet it in all directions. In the coming generations, we must explore beyond the land of the Platta to the lands of the unseen. Darbu has found our future, and it is not going to be a simple life."

All Platta became scouts that day, in addition to the other roles held, and as more saw places of inspiration, the more they wanted to make something. But as the labor had increased for all, so there was also less time to work on art. This led to a push to have more children to aid in different ways figuring the more children did, the less they would have to, and though the children would have their own inspirations, they would have others working for them in regards to food gathering and care taking. It would merge in a more labor-intensive but balanced system. The next few years would be a faster expansion. However, the costs of doing so were not considered very closely...

The Cindorayi, Population: 86, Year 5 IL (Inland), Age of the New Moon

Music Under The Moon

As the fire crackled in the shadow of the green canopy that covered the sky, one of the Cindorayi foraging parties made camp in preparation to explore more the following day. Sylvya, one of the females that chose to accompany the foraging party, took a carved piece of wood with twine strings drawn across it off of her back.

"What is that thing you have there, Sylvya?" one of the males asked curiously.

"It makes beautiful sounds," she replied. "Here, let me show you." She took her fingers and began to pluck the strings. The tension of the string caused it to vibrate melodically, and it appeared that having different lengths of string caused it to produce different sounds.

At this point, she had acquired the attention of everyone nearby, and she said, "Here, yesterday I put the Song of the Ancient Empire to the different sounds." She began strumming the small instrument and sang,

"Their fame will never die,
So grieve but do not cry,
Their fame will never die,
Their spirits are in the sky."

At this point the others who knew it broke in, and the chorus grew to pierce the silent black veil of the night.

"From the dark ages they rose,
They knew what no one now knows,
They conquered all their foes,
Their armies marched in rows."

A second chorus arrived, as the Cindorayi repeated the same melody again, this time without words, before proceeding to the final stanza.

"Their great empire is now done,
Of it many songs are sung,
This little song is but one,
It will be sung in every tongue."

"That was beautiful!" exclaimed Natalya, the other female present. "We should make more of them, and we can have many people play at once!" The others snapped their fingers in approval.

Sylvya beamed. "Thank you very much." "I would like to see if I can come up with another idea for a soundmaker as well, if I have time. I'm sure you could make deeper or higher sounds if you changed the way the strings were tied."

"That would be amazing." Natalya nodded in agreement.

---

Back in the village, Ekatyrina was examining a crude map of the area as described by the foraging parties. She looked out the small opening of the wood-framed cave she used as her home, out at the several new trees that were growing in front of it. As the Zemlyarodians had suggested, she had placed a few types of fruit in the fertile soil close to the beach and already small trees had sprouted out of the ground with branches she was sure would bear the same types of fruit in a few years' time. However good the fruit was, she knew that no matter how many trees she planted it was unlikely that they could feed the entire village with them. She had asked the foraging parties to keep a lookout for a different type of plant that provided a lot of food and grew compactly, but there was no such luck yet.

Ekatyrina had come to the conclusion that with the addition of the new village of Zemlyarod to their growing civilization, she needed to have a few people to assist her in organizing things. Shylia, a skilled builder, was put in charge of construction and planning out new huts. Andrei, with some dissent from the other females, was put in charge of managing the foraging teams and food. Ekatyrina felt that the person in charge of something should have experience in it, regardless of gender. Finally, Viktorya, a deft thinker and the chief of the other village, was in charge of figuring out new tools to help in their day to day work. Already the simple coral tools they had been using were quickly breaking when used to try to cut down trees or break rocks, so Viktorya was trying to figure out what they could use instead. These three made up what would be considered the first Cindorayi Council.

Cliff Sing Wind colony, population 53

"Hear you this? Short Chin new-dances on beach. Hurrycome!"

With a yawn, Clear See Far blinked sleep from her eyes. There was her broodmate, Green Set Sun, hanging from the mouth of the cave like a feathered white spider. "Hurrycome or Short Chin finishes! Sleep-face!"

Clear grinned, then pounced, and with a yelp the two Katyusha tumbled down the rocky slope. The moon was high in the sky; Clear had slept very late.

Recovering themselves at the base of the cliff, the siblings chased eachother through the sparse woods that separated that nesting dens from the beaches. They found quite a crowd waiting for them; half the tribe stood gathered in a throng, captivated by something in their center. A good number more had taken to the skies, circling madly above with whoops and shouts.

Pushing her way to the center of the throng, Clear gasped. Short Chin had found a new dance, all right. The young Katyusha had cut a rod of wood from the cane groves, and swung it about her with wild grace. Clear found Green and gave him a look; in an instant the giggling pair had vanished, dashing off to the groves to cut their own dancing-staffs.

The Great White Unknown

It had been four days since Whooping Gull had been banished from the colony. He could not feel his feet; they moved forward on their own, as if dragged by an invisible sled. At night the stars were reflected in the ice and Whooping Gull felt himself float through a black void, lit by white pinpricks and great, swooping majesties of blue and red. Yet it had been very long since he last looked up.

And so it was that Whooping Gull did not know he had reached land until, having crossed the sandy beach, he trod on a gnarled root and fell face-first into a patch of sweetberry bushes. Laying there, the Katyusha felt as one who has half-awoken from a dream, and retained his mind only long enough to seize a handful of the ripe red fruit and chew them down to their juicy pits.

Then Whooping Gull fell into a deep sleep, and did not awaken for a day and a half.

The first thing he felt was a burning throat. The Katyusha sat upright and let loose a deep, parched groan. He could not walk, he could not fly, so for many miles Whooping Gull crawled through the fresh brown grasses until at last the music of a busy brook reached his ears.

His reflection was haggard, unrecognizable; skeletal and feather-bare in many places, Whooping Gull was a parody of his former self. But he drank deep in the brook, and soon his strength returned, and Whooping Gull cackled and danced in the chilled black waters, for he had outsmarted the Dawn Walk. He had not lost his direction in the endless expanses. He had traveled west, and then south, and found a friendly coast. He had survived.

But he could not go back. So Whooping Gull rested for one day more, and turned his feet inland.

The Rokthani | Population; 245

"Ugh, my underside is killing me... HEY! Wait up, would you?!"
A (relatively) small Rokthan sprints to the rest of the pack. He slithers up alongside another explorer.
"Where are we going, anyway? Which way is home? Do you know where we're going?"
The other Rokthan, carrying a map strapped to his topside responds while keeping his gaze forward.
"You ask many questions. Perhaps too many."
The small one's face turns sour.
"These shrubs are real tall. Not like the ones back home." Says the small one, his eyes darting up and down following the trunks of the trees. The forest is thick and brimming with wildlife. Strange and exotic insects and animals can be heard screaming away in the canopies above. The Rokthan caravan are ever cautious.
"I have only seen vegetation like this a few times before, when I would come to the Outreach to chart farmlands." says the map carrier. "But I have never actually stepped into this place before. Truly it is a marvel of nature. That being said..." The mapmaker turns his gaze to the small one.
"You must stay sharp. Predators may lurk behind every stem."
The small one gulps and his voice cracks. "You got it."

The crew make further advances into the forest. Just as they are about to cross a small stream, they hear a noise in the treetops.
"TSST!" hisses the leader. The rest of the group make a sudden and complete stop, except the small one, who bumps into another person.
The leader whispers to the other group members. "Did you hear that?"
"Aye." responds the map maker. Before anyone can say another word, a strange black shadow expands in the trees. Like a drape being cast upon the forest, it swoops down to the group's position leaving a virtual tornado in its wake. The group leader yells out; "SCATTER!!"
Some Rokthan attempted to burrow into the ground, but the thick forest floor made it difficult. Some managed to dart behind a tree trunk. One Rokthan, however, had no idea what to do. Like a deer in headlights, the small one stared his inevitable doom straight in the eyes as it descended upon him. It would have been the end of him had it not been for an incredible, blinding flash of light that emanated from the map maker. The black shadow was clearly disoriented and flew off in a strong gale, clipping branches on the way out. Regaining his composure, the small one rushed over to the map maker, who was limp. "HEY! Hey, are you alright?! Say something!"
The map maker lets out an exhausted groan as the other members of the group come to check on him.
"That was some quick thinking there, Vuld. Can you move or do you need help?" says the leader.
"What happened?!" says the small one, visibly concerned.
The leader responds, "He expended all of his luminescence in one burst to scare off... whatever that was. He should be fine, he just needs some time to rest. A little sunbathing wouldn't be so bad either."
"You, uh... you saved my life. I owe you a lot! So... thank you! A lot!" says the small one sincerely.
"Gnnnggseeegadgscgrh....." responds the map maker, who is being carried by a few group members. Including the small one.
The group leader, cautiously, speaks up to the others. "It's getting dark. I think it's time to find some place to stay the night.

Meanwhile, in the mountains, Shel and his party are making progress in finding suitable burrowing ground. They make marks in the rocks where holes may be dug in the future.

Alvith Population: 148 - Age of Rielo
Seasons had passed since the great celebration for the new chief. The rule of Chief Rielo Kriivith had been a tough first year. Many within first few moons would challenge the chief but none had been strong enough to defeat the new chief. It was a time of growth for the Alvith with time of young being born. Food was plentiful and many saw the prosperity as result of Chief Rielo being strong. Chief Rielo exited his hut to sound of screeching Alvith young. The sound would be common in village for first few weeks of a Alvith life all they wanted was food. As Chief Rielo looked around throughout village he could catch glimpses of young kept in tents and could see a group of Alvith children mimicking adults by play fighting. Something was on the mind of the chief and it was that village was strong but the village could not continue to grow strong. Chief Rielo knew his people and knew that land could only support them up to a certain number. It would be disgraceful to say Alvith should divide numbers and grow weaker to ensure future strength. If weakness was shown would be a sign of being unfit to rule.

"Need strength, stay strong, grow stronger..." Spoke Chief Rielo Kriivith to himself as he looked up to the sun.
"Great left eye! Great Serpent... Want stronger.. grow! Provider life... watching eye show way!" Spoke Chief Rielo Kriivith who got onto his knees as he looked up to sky asking for guidance.

It was not uncommon for a chief to ask for guidance from great serpent. The Alvith were not thinkers and trying to solve issues when it wasn't strength leading way was difficult. Only what was remembered and passed down in stories were known about how past Alvith overcame hurdles. It was a great pressure on Chief Rielo to make sure his people grew stronger and he alone needed to solve the problems only the strongest could. Raclo could see the concern in his chiefs eyes when he approached him.

"Great Chief, strongest of strong. What trouble mind of chief?" Spoke Raclo to Chief Rielo.
"People grow stronger, strength stronger with young. Too many weak, run out food." Spoke Chief Rielo Kriivith as he walked to edge of village.
"I Raclo trust strength, Chief strong. Chief lead to new strength." Spoke Raclo as he followed Chief.
"I Chief, I go. Walk alone, great left eye watch. Great Serpent give strength. Return with strength." Spoke Chief Rielo Kriivith before making his way out of the village to walk on quest to discover new strength.

úsińgroruvaH firogón űsä?űrörürü ússrá; The Month 16 of the 400th Firog

arsurón bära̋kH: 127 people among 14 tribes

The arsur (coast) was a beatiful sight from the decks of ärgős, the mobile house boats that were more precious than the blood that flowed beneath the skin of every Arsurón.

Bisre tugged at the taut, marrionet strings of her wooden toy as it danced across the surface of water, waves and drops flicking from the puppet's feet as she dragged the doll as if it was treading the water's surface. The girl, not much older than 2 úsrog giggled to herself as her father and his associates talked buisness nearby. Ánam wished his daughter might listen as well, even if she did not realize the importance at this age.

"Bańa!" he boomed to adress his fellow cheifs, vital allies in this pressing time. "The sea calls for us to move north towards the yijen re̋Hrëh!" refering to the river at the northern most portion of the Arsur. This was a traditional favorite for raids, as the fertile floodplains drew in many weaker, yet still hardy races from the desert that were perfect for enslavement. However, this river had never been properly settled on, the traditional view being that its shallow waters would not allow for anything bigger than a raid canoe. Ánam, however, saw this risky plan as vital to his tribe's domination of the Arsur and beyond.

"The yijen re̋Hrëh is a source of not only income, but expendable warriors for our enemies! If we can set up a bägős camp in the river we ma-"

Ándótt, the leader of the Ori tribe slamed the end of his spear into the floor of the boat. "It is not possible Ánam! You cannot get one ärgős in those waters without sinking, let alone an entire bägős camp."

Ánam's mask hid the way his face twisted in disgust as he began to speak again. "We have no choice, Ándott! Our enemies get stronger every day! They pluck more slaves to tire us before their warriors massacre our own! They must be kept from that river, we must claim it as our own!"

"You are willing to risk the lives of our people to try and form a camp on that river!"

"No, my own tribe will go, we will move onto the yijen re̋Hrëh!" Ánam spoke. "We will take control of its waters and make those lands ours"

"Or die and leave our alliance in pieces" the Kisi tribe chief, Ángań replied.

"Then it will be as if I had never gone at all" Ánam replied.

The next day, Ánam and his tribesmen began sailing north towards the mouth of the yijen re̋Hrëh. Bisre looked over at the coast as they passed it, waiting to see when they came to land she had not yet seen.

*firog - basic unit of historical time, equivalent to 5 years. The Arsurón belive their species was created 400 úsrog, or 2000 years, ago. Úsrog is the plural