Weeks ago, Yngvar met the Children of Artemon, the elves to the west, and has since returned home to tell his people. Most were disgruntled by the news of actual skraelings, and suspicion is not easily be dispelled. Despite this, there were a few who thought these 'elves' to perhaps be friendly types, seeing as they hadn't come for them in hostility since they were met, and those who doubted Yngvar's word were quickly proven wrong by the fact that his men were there, and that he brought home with him an elven-crafted bow and quiver of arrows. He had found the weapon to be elegant and tested it out a few times while hunting deer. To his surprise or joy, or perhaps both, the weapon had worked excellently - moreso than any bow he had ever crafted himself. The fletchers had spent weeks trying to replicate the design but they simply couldn't craft the bow to the likes of the elvenmake. Perhaps, they thought, the skraelings could be contacted to learn more about their craft and skill?

During these weeks, two great constructions had seen their completion. The shipyard was now fully operational and a new longship was being constructed as Dag walked the planks for a closer inspection. They comissioned him for suggestions of names, but he had mostly laughed and said he'd think about it but that the ship's captain should be the one to give her a name. From the yard, Yngvar planned on exploring the coastline to the north and to the east, but first he'd have to convince Dag... As if he needed convincing!
The second great construction had been the pallisade - the gilbins had really taken to their new thrallhood and had diligently constructed both the shipyard and the pallisade in record speeds under leadership from the Iceborn. The pallisade was of great but convinient height, all gates in and out of the settlement were due protected and watch-towers had been erected along key spots of the wall. The village was now well protected up on it's hill from any invader who would seek to catch them off-guard.

Yet... Something troubling had reached Dag's ears. One of his fishermen had gone missing out at sea. He had journeyed too far, and probably been caught in a wave, but by now if that was the case they would have begun to see debris float ashore. It hadn't. No body, no broken plank, nothing. As he stood on the shipyard contemplating this, he spotted something glittering in the water. Something metallic, attached to a-- by Father Frost's beard! It's the fisherman's bloated hand! His metallic weddingring had caught the ray of the sun as the hand floated on the waters, bloated and rotting. What a grim fate for a noble Iceborn, torn to shreds by--
"Dag." a voice came from behind him, with light steps to follow. It was a woman.
"Lydia, my friend." Dag responded.
The two exchanged a hug, having been acquainted for many years as with most Iceborn.
"I wish I had better news, but I must bring you something of a concern." said Lydia.
She told him of her recent travel east, together with her two daughters. Lydia was a veteran warrior and scout and a proper shieldmaiden, and her daughters were following in her steps and as such often accompanied their mother out on her excursions.
During their travel east, Lydia told Dag that they had found a small band of Gilbin survivors from the caves, and they hadn't been happy to see them. Immediately upon spotting Lydia and her daughters, they had sprung up on their feet and rushed the shieldmaidens. A fool's end, some would say, but Lydia knew better. They had grown braver. Survivors from the caves had up until now fled at the sight of Iceborn, but those who fled east were rarely seen again. These gilbin... Something had strengthened their morale to the point where they dared seek vengeance where they thought they could find it.

Would they speak more on the subject?

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 193 men, 192 women, 53 children.

Livestock: A herd of goat.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 60% of adult population.
Food level: Above Average
Resources: Lumber, Iron, Honey (low quantities, legendary quality)
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 5% +1% from food level, +1% from morale = 7%.
Morale: High
Foreign relations:

A few weeks had passed since the raid on Pachacamac. Lizardmen, armed with spear an crossbow, fang and claw, came to steal your supplies and kidnap your people for slavery or worse. While at first leadership was fractured, Amari Asto managed to lead his people to victory by unifying what little fighters he had and armed the rest who could fight. The initial panic turned into fury at the invaders, and the lizardmen were quickly driven off with little casualties on both sides. All in all, two lizardmen died to your four armed peasants, and another three were wounded. One lone lizardman was left behind, too wounded to be carried or to run by himself. He was nursed back to health in a cage, and has since been your prisoner. He hasn't spoken to anyone but Amari Asto, and when he's "spoken" it has been only through hiss and snarl. Still, you have the feeling his mood might swing soon. Perhaps the creature can speak common?

Rano Rancor had been able to procure the resources needed for his project of improving the settlement's housing, and everybody's standard of living had since improved. He was congratulated as a great inovator, and has since been working directly under Amari Asto's employ to improve everyday life in the settlement.

With the repelling of the lizardman raid, your workers and guardsmen were able to return to their project of mining the mountainside for copper, which has since become your newest resource.

[Copper added to resources.]

The crossbow. Not a design unfamiliar to your people, but intruiging nonetheless. The lizardmen had wielded them together with spear and claw to deadly efficiency, and while examining the weapons taken from your slain enemies, you realize their crossbows are different from what you know. Crude-looking, yet elegant in actuality. Being perfectly fit for a lizardman and not a man, the design would require some alterations or modifications before being an equally strong weapon in your own hands. Perhaps a worthwhile project to invest in?

Scouts are now posted at all times at the pass from where the lizardmen may come. Day and night it is kept under watch, and some voices has been raised as to fortify it into a defensible position to repel further incursions upon your lands. Still, it will be a long time before you may consider yourselves safe.

Population: 179 men, 177 women, 47 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: Above average
Resources: Stone, lumber, copper.
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 5% +1% from food level, +0% from morale = 6%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations:

Some time has passed since the Iceborn were met by the river to the east and the refugees arrived from the west. At first, the hardest part was to settle the refugees and shelter them in the new settlement. Food and labour they happily provided for themselves, and while most weren't as skilled craftsmen as the Children of Artemon, they were quickly able to make themselves at home in Duinmelamar with help from the Children.
They were all the same people, High Elven blood and culture, but of different territories. As the days passed and you learned more of the remnants of Cantivale, you realize they came from a sister-nation of High Elves far away from where you had originally came from. Now, you all found yourself on this new continent together and had endured different but similar hardships of ruin and calamity.
They called themselves the Lothelonni, followers of Lord Elaris Brightflower, and their ways were of ancient High Elven heritage. Many of the survivors were either former nobles or their servants, ranging from wizards to farmers. You feel like you may learn a thing or two from them, and they feel the same about you. Seemingly they are integrating faillessly into your settlement.

[+100 refugees added to your population.]

Your scouts have also finished scouring the countryside and found several points of interest. In the vast mountains to the north-east, the prospectors found a large system of caves that lead into the mountainside and possibly further down into the rock itself. While there, he also found small abandoned hovels that seemingly used to have housed small humanoid creatures but are now completely empty and not a soul has been spotted at the site since.

Your folk had also begun fishing from the river that flowed from the north, where the Lothelonni had once lived. In their great lake, they said they had found plenty of fish as well.
Around the area of your new settlement, farmers had begun turning the lands into farms and the wayward stones and trees that came in their way were quickly assimilated and turned into resources to be used for building materials. Small pockets of woodland dotted the otherwise flat landscape, with the exception of southward where the woodland instead dotted a hilly landscape. Further than the great hills, the scouts had not yet ventured.

[Resources added: lumber, fish, stone (small quantities).]
[Point of interest added at mountains.]

Your relationship with the Giants still hold strong and grow stronger still, with your crafted goods improving their quality of life to a point where they are actually experiencing growth unknown to them from the time before your arrival.

[Giant Camp grows by 5. Relations improved.]

Some time has also passed since last you met the Iceborn. Once or twice you have seen them when a scout has travelled too far east, but they have not yet come to visit you.

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 134 men, 135 women, 48 children.
Military: 15 Elf-at-Arms. Militia able to be conscripted up to 20% of adult population.
Food level: Average
Resources: Lumber
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade:

Growth: Base: 4% +0% from food level, +0% from morale = 4%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations:

Suddenly, several months have passed since the setup of the logging camp and the mine. Resources has flowed into the settlement and food production has been increasing steadily. Your allies, the Ursar, had too felt the change in power and wealth that the Oreborn had brought to the region. With the first few batches of gold mined from the mountains, you had given them gifts they simply could not decline. By the day it seems they grew to like you even more, and your similar pasts helped that friendship grow further.

With lumber, stone, tin, copper and gold available to you, only one thing seemed to be missing... Iron. By finding iron, you could craft steel. With steel, and gold, well... Who knows what the limits could be.
As if on queue, Arngir received word that the mountain to the south-west indeed seemed rich of iron. With swift action a dwarven emissary was sent to talk to the Ursar settlements nearby, and after a little deliberation it was decided that the dwarves would be allowed to establish a mine in the mountain, where Ursar also would work the tunnels and share in its' bounty. As such, the iron ore that came out of the mountain was split according to population size, which left the dwarves with a smaller batch than the Ursar. However, through shrewd and skilled diplomacy, the dwarves were able to negotiate themselves a better deal by being the better craftsmen and more skilled miners - their expertise were worth more and as such their bounty was to be higher. Without them, they argued, the Ursar would not see nearly as much as a fraction of the iron brought out from the mountain. The Ursar agreed. Despite a population difference of 2 to 1, the resources were manned and split half-half. Enough for both peoples.

Another prospector came in to the room, recently back from his voyage. The Oreborn had no boats, but they were able to see that far to the west there was an island with a big mountain at it's center. Not as big as the mountains in the peninsula around the Oreborn settlement, but big enough to be of interest. Also, being of Brownbeard origin, the prospector could not help but think the island could serve to be a protective bastion to the sea in the future.

But what does Arngir think?

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 152 men, 148 women, 53 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: Average
Resources: Copper, tin, gold, lumber, iron.
Wealth: Very low (Consisting mostly of raw gold ore for now)
Trade: Mutual small-scale trade with the Ursar.
Growth: Base: 5% +0% from food level, +0% from morale = 5%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations:
- The Ursar: Friendly
- The Brown-Skin Orcs: Not yet met.
- The Lilitu: Not yet met.

It was a hard-fought battle. At first it had seemed the Lycans had the numbers and morale on their side, perhaps even the gods themselves, but the Ogre warlord was cunning and ruthless. He was no stranger to war.
While Vlath had focused his strongest warriors in the front and riled up everyone's spirits, the strange pale-skinned ogres had marched in unison and purpose towards the lycan formations. Vlath ordered the charge, and from atop the hill well over a hundred lycans had rushed their enemy with weapon, fang and claw. Vlath himself had used his new powers efficiently, having been able to personally dispatch several armored ogre vanguards by channeling his new powers through his body to increase his strength and dexterity. While he had found he could not yet call upon dark magics to devestate his enemies, he could fuel himself beyond mortal strength and fought with the power of ten of his kind.

However, when one Ogre fell at his post another took his place. After a few minutes of hard fighting, the ogres shifted their ranks. Rested soldiers came forward while the tired ones were allowed to rest towards the back. They repeated the tactic, always ensuring they were fighting with full strength.
The lycans were ferocious and beyond average stamina, but they had no such battlestrategy in place. Their strategy was brute strength and ferocity, and it seemed to be working at first. The Ogre centre gave in, allowing lycan warriors to drive a wedge through their lines, but suddenly their advance came to a halt. The ogres had gave ground purposely, and now had the lycan centre flanked from all sides as they had driven their wedge into the ogre lines.

Vlath could only watch as several of his warriors fell, and as more and more blood painted the grass and mud, it became clear to him that this battle was lost. His commanders started to order a retreat, and his warriors began pulling back. The Ogres advanced and came after them, but their armor weighed them down and they dared not run. The Lycan retreat was unchallanged, but the disorganized warriors made it look more like a route.
All survivors made it back to the settlement, but those who could not fight had taken the children under guidance from Mex and Basir as ordered and sought refuge in the mountain to the north. Vlath and his commanders had survived, some slightly wounded but still standing, but another 30 lycans had to be left behind, either dead or too wounded to retreat. The survivors were likely taken captive, and as Vlath organized the rest of the settlement's inhabitants to flee north to the mountain, the Ogres caught up. They cut off their escape by flanking the village to the west and to the north, as if they knew the layout of the lands exactly. The Ogre warlord stood upon a hill, overlooking the village, and raised a flag. Vlath knew what it meant; the warlord called for an audience. The Ogre forces remained at their posts flanking the village, waiting for Vlath to show himself.

Growling, he realized he had no choice. At first, he thought he would rather die than parlay with their enemy, but he knew better than to not seek the Gods' council. And so he did. He ordered his warriors to stand down, but be at the ready in case the Ogres had enough of waiting, and he went to his hut where he had erected a small shrine.
He drew a knife, cut his palm and let a few drops of blood drip into a chalice of stone. He closed his eyes, and reached out into the void to speak with his pantheon.

At first; silence. Then, he could feel a pressence course through his scars, the scars he had received only hours ago from his gods. They spoke to him through the power they had granted him. What little words his mind could comprehend told him to not die here in vain. His part to play in the living world was not yet over, and the Gods would severely punish him if he died now before he completed what they had demanded of him: the blood of the lesser races. Indeed, the battle had spilled the blood of a few ogres, but not nearly enough to repay the loss of Lycan life. The gods were angry, but not with Vlath, but with the ogres.

A final order echoed through Vlath's mind, ringing like a bell, shaking him to the core.

Don't you dare fail us, Vlath. Live and retreat. Live to fight another day. The time will come where your vengeance upon the Ogres will be complete, and on that day we will reward you and your people greatly. You are our chosen, our champions that walk the mortal plane.

Vlath was unsure how to proceed, even though he planned to do what the Gods bid. Was he to pack up and leave? Try to escape the ogre warband? No, they were too many and their escaperoute was cut off. After a few minutes of meditation, he came up with a plan.

And so it came to be that Vlath met with Durgal, the Ogre Warlord, and allowed his village to be annexed. Months have passed since then, and the Ogres arrive once a week to collect tribute and manpower to no doubt be used as slavelabor. The non-fighters and the children had returned to the village, and all lived under the iron heel of the Ogre, but secretly they all longed to be free. They hated their captors with a burning passion, and all knew a day would come that Vlath rose up against them and overthrew them. But such an act would require cunning, planning and carefully masterminded operations as the Ogres had a numerical, equipment and strategical advantage. Luckily, you have had months of planning.

What is Vlath planning to do, to free his people?

Population: 137 men, 131 women, 22 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 50% of adult population.
Food level: Average
Resources: Requires prospection and industry.
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 5% +0% from food level, -1% from morale = 4%.
Morale: Disgruntled
Foreign relations:

It seems like it was only yesterday that you all packed up your things and left the swamp for steadier ground. The mountains had proved to be steep, but with the diligence and help of the blackskin goblin workforce, you had persevered. Now, hovels and huts dotted the mountainside all the way down to the base of the hills. A few caves had even begun to spring up, and during nighttime when one stands at the base of the mountain, they could see many lit-up hovels along the mountainside. From the mountain came new resources such as tin, iron and hardstone. Hardstone was a particularly interesting material, for it could be mined with ease but once processed into building-material (through a rather simple process of heating it in one way or another) it was almost imovable. Tools could only scratch it, and as such the builders had to be careful when laying it down to make sure it all was set rightly into place, to avoid tedious tasks of removing it if put in a wrong location or slightly tilted to the wrong side.

Food was still the rarest of commodities around here, however. The swamp housed plenty of wildlife to be hunted and berries, fruits, mushrooms and some roots could be harvested and eaten but it required a lot of time of gathering to feed a growing population.

Trip and his blackskinned kin had taken a liking to Gredy and his leadership and charm, and willingly took over most of the mining operations in the mountains. The two different breeds of goblin seemed to work well together when playing to their strengths.

However, alarm had been raised a few weeks ago when Geist finally returned from her exploration mission. Appearantly, there's nothing wrong with the surrounding wildlife other than everything tries to kill you, and a few more blackskinned goblin survivors kept arriving from the west daily. No, what actually raised cause for concern was to the south. A troll camp. Newly arrived, it seemed. Where they had come from Geist couldn't tell, probably from the south somewhere, but as they knew very little of the land they could only speculate. They hadn't been spotted yet, but Geist said it was only a matter of time before the trolls take notice of the lights in the mountainside and the swamps. Hopefully, the rough terrain would be enough to deter the trolls, but if they were bloodthirsty enough perhaps not even that would stop them from coming after them. Trolls were after all quite savage creatures, much like some goblin species. Although, goblin and troll do have much in common, so perhaps diplomacy was entirely possible. It was up to the leadership of the enclave to figure that out, though.

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 175 men, 175 women, 60 children.

Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 50% of adult population.
Food level: Below average
Resources: Hardstone (low quantity), iron, tin.
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 8% -1% from food level, +0% from morale = 7%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

This land was supposed to be your birthright, your ancient heritage and your ancestry. Despite your proud lineage, it seems fate has taken a twisting turn and famine has left your people struck with tragedy. Marum Tankbeard, renowned metal priest and keeper of good advise for the King, has sensed change whispered from the metal spirits. A priest can only interpret so much of whispers heard from metals and rock, but interpret them he did nonetheless. They speak of an ancient past, long forgotten even by the proud Metalbeard Dwarves of the Glimmering Mountain. An ancient tome. The founding fathers. said the whispers, over and over again.

Without delay, Marum and Blackhand consulted the ancient scripts of his people, left to gather dust in these dark days but perhaps keepers of important knowledge.
Then they found it. The oldest tome in the mountain, the grandest and proudest wordless cover either of them had ever seen. Despite their hungering stomachs, they ached to turn the pages and read of it's forgotten wisdom.
Indeed, as they sat down and read the words, they were taken aback by what they read. Such ancient history, lost and forgotten, was here all along?

The tome speaks of the 7 founding fathers, the Dwarf-Lords that ruled when the world was knew. All of them were chosen by their Gods to lead their great clans to their destiny, but alas it seemed most of them had forgotten. After so many hundreds if not thousands of years, dwarvenkind had dwindled and no longer remembered to carry down the traditions of their founders.

You may be dwarves of the Glimmering Mountains, of Clan Metalbeard, but your heritage and lineage can be traced back to these founding clans. All dwarves can trace their history back to these 7 clans, and all of them have knowledge.
What does your tome speak of?



Whatever promethean clan the tome speaks of, it is without a doubt from this clan that the Metalbeards trace their origins back to. And with the knowledge rediscovered in this tome, perhaps you may rise again, prouder and stronger, to rebuild your kingdom brought to heel and rediscover your destiny?

Population: 90 men, 90 women, 20 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: N/A
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 4%
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

Ah, Coinshire. A perfect little hovel of huts and houses halfway dug into the ground. Execpt, it wasn't perfect. It wasn't even fully operational. Your people has recently arrived from gods-know-where and this is, without a doubt, not a very easy time for your people.

While you're doing your best, your ruler, William Orbcoin, has yet to make any official announcements as to what to do next. Halfling families tend to be quite large, but even so this meagre population barely has half a child per household. And it's not even a household! These huts are little more than temporary shelter to be improved as time goes on! Nevertheless, the halflings of Coinshire has tough times behind them and tough times ahead of them, but with a bright outlook on the future that things will turn out alright... Or will it?

But there are a few different kinds of halflings. Some like best to sit at home and share stories by the hearth, while others prefer to set out into the world and live adventures! Some halflings aren't even called halflings at all, that's how different they are!
So... What are the halflings of Coinshire?



Population: 130 men, 120 women, 50 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: N/A
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 5%
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

All glory to Amarak! He has lead us to this new land - Nehgrob Nek'sa - to become his chosen! His medium through which he will hold dominion over these realms.
It is up to you, High Priest Gahd'Sihkra to guide your people through this monumental task that you have taken upon yourself to fullfill your oath. You are Trolls, savage and cunning, with natural regeneration and great strength.

But there are several breeds of Troll. While you share some traits, you may find other traits less common. You are...



Population: 90 men, 90 women, 20 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: N/A
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 4%
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

You are lost, stranded by the tides and shipwrecked against foreign rocks. The vessels that carried you here were smashed against the shore by the storm, and whatever you could salvage you brought with you into the nearby forest. Here, your people quickly set to work of building shelter and gathering food from the lands around you, but something felt off. The wildlife was big and plentiful, but the further north you went, as the thicket grew thinner, you encountered less and less game to hunt and the grass turned browner, as if fall came early to this particular plot of land onwards. Your scouts dared not go further, and instead focused on the forest you had settled in.

There is no way to send word back to the imperium now, and it will be many months or even years before you could sail back the way you came.

What will you do, Archon Saleian? Will you lead your people through this dark time into greatness as your own people, or will you set sail back for the imperium at first chance, no matter how long it will take?

No matter what you do, your first choice stands before you, the first trials of your people in this new land. What will the Archon of the Elven Enclave do?

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 90 men, 90 women, 20 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: N/A
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 4%
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

Build watermill/bakery, scout caves and abandoned settlement

-The Iceborn just sit around and build more ships.
-Dag's son Sigdar is still out in the forest trying to kill a bear, from my last post in the old thread. The idea is he'll become a berserker and win the war god's favor, and then maybe Kjorn will talk to the tribe through his new champion.
-The severed hand in the water is dismissed as being the work of a shark, and nobody cares much about the stray goblins growing more bold.

In an attempt to strengthen their position against possible attacks (as well as increase their food supply via hunting), the goblins of the Orc-Grave Swamp Enclave are going to work on improving their military technology by trying to create crossbows.

Clan Oreborn begins work on their first city, their first true home. A group of 40 to start have been sent.

"Let the Gilbins rise from the shadows and fight us, then; they would only give us another chance to prove ourselves to Kjorn."
Well-chosen words indeed. Lydia smirked, bowed shortly and left once their conversation was over. She had much to attend to, as Dagshall had started to grow quite busy over the past few weeks.

Ah, shark. Edible just like any other fish. Dag instructed his fishers to hunt them and bring them in to be served for the next feast. Only... The fishermen couldn't find any sharks. Odd, they thought since they had seen plenty of sharks around the shores before. Now, it was as if all predators were gone. Ill omens, said they when they brought the news back to Dag. All men know, when predators leave an area with plenty of game it is only because a larger predator has entered the waters. But then what had slain the fisherman whose hand had washed up ashore?

As soon as the second Longboat was finished, it set off north onto the seas. Whoever the captain was and whatever he had named his ship, he came back shortly after with half a broken ship left and most of his crew dead. He was wounded, delirious, raving like a mad-man. "The deep! The deep! They-- it-- the monsters!"
He collapsed onto the shore. The Iceborn quickly took him and the survivors in and treated them, and they noticed bitemark, clawmark, wounds from sword, dagger and spear. It was is they had all been attacked by sharks, but what sharks could possible board a ship?! Clearly there is a new enemy out there!

As the captain and his men remained unconcious, the Iceborn could only speculate as to what had attacked them. It seems the second longship also required some repairs before it was to sail any further.

Still, some good news came at last. Dag's son Sigdar had returned from the wilds. He had stalked a massive bear for days, and finally managed to fell it with his bow, spear and shortsword. He came with the massive pelt upon his head and down his back, and with it's claws in three necklaces. Other valuables collected from the bear's carcass had been collected in several satchels hanging from his waist or back. Indeed, the young man was covered in bear from head to toe, a sight to behold. He stood up straight, his demeanor proud and bright. He was welcomed into the village as a true man and warrior, and Dag received him at their great hall, the longhouse.

That night, they feasted. No shark unfortunately, but a feast nonetheless. It included all the regularities of an Iceborn feast, with the exception of one curiosity. Sigdar approached his father and lowered his voice.
"Father. I found something in the wilds."
Congratulations had already been received earlier, so the two conversed normally with each other.
"What is it, son? What did you find?"
"I must show you."
The two ventured out into the wilds the next day accompanied by an elder, Lydia the Shieldmaiden and the elder's aide. Sigdar led his companions to the place where he had felled the bear, and there upon a rock was imprinted the mark of Kjorn. Runes were carved on the outer rims of the standing rock, and in the middle was a hole through, with a blue flame faintly flickering. It appeared to be dying, yet Sigdar said he had not noticed the rock until the blue flame came to light the moment he slew the bear.



The elder was aghast, Lydia astonished. Sigdar himself stood proudly next to to the Runestone, yet his expression was serious, calm and stern.

Dag and the elder exchanged looks. What does this mean?

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 205 men, 205 women, 58 children.

Livestock: A herd of goat.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 60% of adult population.
Food level: Above Average
Resources: Lumber, Iron, Honey (low quantities, legendary quality)
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 5% +1% from food level, +1% from morale = 7%.
Morale: High
Foreign relations:

A few weeks had passed since the raid on Pachacamac. Lizardmen, armed with spear an crossbow, fang and claw, came to steal your supplies and kidnap your people for slavery or worse. While at first leadership was fractured, Amari Asto managed to lead his people to victory by unifying what little fighters he had and armed the rest who could fight. The initial panic turned into fury at the invaders, and the lizardmen were quickly driven off with little casualties on both sides. All in all, two lizardmen died to your four armed peasants, and another three were wounded. One lone lizardman was left behind, too wounded to be carried or to run by himself. He was nursed back to health in a cage, and has since been your prisoner. He hasn't spoken to anyone but Amari Asto, and when he's "spoken" it has been only through hiss and snarl. Still, you have the feeling his mood might swing soon. Perhaps the creature can speak common?

Rano Rancor had been able to procure the resources needed for his project of improving the settlement's housing, and everybody's standard of living had since improved. He was congratulated as a great inovator, and has since been working directly under Amari Asto's employ to improve everyday life in the settlement.

With the repelling of the lizardman raid, your workers and guardsmen were able to return to their project of mining the mountainside for copper, which has since become your newest resource.

[Copper added to resources.]

The crossbow. Not a design unfamiliar to your people, but intruiging nonetheless. The lizardmen had wielded them together with spear and claw to deadly efficiency, and while examining the weapons taken from your slain enemies, you realize their crossbows are different from what you know. Crude-looking, yet elegant in actuality. Being perfectly fit for a lizardman and not a man, the design would require some alterations or modifications before being an equally strong weapon in your own hands. Perhaps a worthwhile project to invest in?

Scouts are now posted at all times at the pass from where the lizardmen may come. Day and night it is kept under watch, and some voices has been raised as to fortify it into a defensible position to repel further incursions upon your lands. Still, it will be a long time before you may consider yourselves safe.

Population: 189 men, 187 women, 51 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: Above average
Resources: Stone, lumber, copper.
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 5% +1% from food level, +0% from morale = 6%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations:

A watermill! Of course! Fandral slapped himself on the forehead as he came to the realization. How couldn't I think of that sooner? he thought. The village collective had decided that a water mill was a very worthwhile effort and would yield great results. Everyone had unanimously agreed, and the task had been given to Fandral, a seasoned builder. He had the manpower, the resources and the knowledge. He wasn't the best builder, but a water mill was simple enough. While lesser races had swooned at the mathematics and physics that are to be incorporated in the seemingly basic structure, high elven builders were more than capable of such a feat. In the blink of an eye, the structure and it's great wheel had been built and Fandral stood admiring his handiwork.
He looked over the field to the north, and saw the scouting party return. Ah, what great timing. I wonder what news they bring. They seem well. he thought.

The scouts had just returned from the abandoned settlement among the mountains. They brought their news to the village, then resupplied themselves and went back north-east to scout out the caves more thoroughly. There was no telling if there was still anything left in there, but initial searches had found naught but fungi, insects and small rodents. Oh, and some bats. What had lived in the caves was still unsure, but some droppings had given the clue that whatever humanoid-esquelings dwelled there before, they were small of stature and rather... Primitive.

With the water mill built, it would be able to sustain full-time production of a large (comparatively to the rest of the village) bakery. Fandral was once again given the task, and he set his plans and builders to work immediately. In yet another few blinks, seemingly, a bakery was constructed. This way, a higher level of food production would start to take root.

[Food-level stabilized at above average. Former refugees and original children of artemon alike are now fed.]

While it was common for childbirth to be complicated business, child mortality was generally very low, and had been for thousands of years for most elven races. Each life was sacredly held by all elves, and life itself was of the highest values. To speak of death to or with an elf would often be taken as a rather rude gesture, especially if a person of another race or even subrace spoke of it. Except for the wood elves, arguably, the high elves were the kind of elves to hold life in the highest regard.
Indeed, the death of an elf is a tragedy. The death of a newborn child, however... Unspeakable.
A baby boy of only three months had battled with illness since birth, and while most elves had high hopes of his life, even the medicine men, he did not live to see his fourth month. He died of high fever, and his parents grieved severely. The village collectively visited the family to offer their condolences. It was another small tragedy to dot the road of the High Elves' long way through life. It had seemed recently that their luck had turned, by finding a new home together after the Lothelonni and the Children of Artemon had fled from enemy onslaught and natural calamity. Yet, this seemingly small death reminded them of the reality of things.

[A child has died after a period of illness. Life continues, but the village is silently mourning the loss of life.]

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 140 men, 141 women, 51 children.
Military: 15 Elf-at-Arms. Militia able to be conscripted up to 20% of adult population.
Food level: Above average
Resources: Lumber, fish, stone (small quantities.)
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade:

Growth: Base: 4% +1% from food level, +0% from morale = 5%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations:

The construction of an entire city would not be an easy task. The group of 40 masons, builders and architects decided to begin in small scales and increase efforts as they increased their actual capacity. As such, they started work on a modest entrance into the mountain. For now, they would remain above ground as they carved out dwellings, walls, yards and other necessary spaces from the very rock itself. There was no telling of when this gargantuan task would be completed, but as small 'districts' started to take shape and became operational, dwarves started moving in from their temporary dwellings down at the base of the mountains.

[City completed in: ?? turns.]

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 159 men, 155 women, 57 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: Average
Resources: Copper, tin, gold, lumber, iron.
Wealth: Very low (Consisting mostly of raw gold ore for now)
Trade:

Growth: Base: 5% +0% from food level, +0% from morale = 5%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations:
- The Ursar: Friendly
- The Brown-Skin Orcs: Not yet met.
- The Lilitu: Not yet met.

It was a hard-fought battle. At first it had seemed the Lycans had the numbers and morale on their side, perhaps even the gods themselves, but the Ogre warlord was cunning and ruthless. He was no stranger to war.
While Vlath had focused his strongest warriors in the front and riled up everyone's spirits, the strange pale-skinned ogres had marched in unison and purpose towards the lycan formations. Vlath ordered the charge, and from atop the hill well over a hundred lycans had rushed their enemy with weapon, fang and claw. Vlath himself had used his new powers efficiently, having been able to personally dispatch several armored ogre vanguards by channeling his new powers through his body to increase his strength and dexterity. While he had found he could not yet call upon dark magics to devestate his enemies, he could fuel himself beyond mortal strength and fought with the power of ten of his kind.

However, when one Ogre fell at his post another took his place. After a few minutes of hard fighting, the ogres shifted their ranks. Rested soldiers came forward while the tired ones were allowed to rest towards the back. They repeated the tactic, always ensuring they were fighting with full strength.
The lycans were ferocious and beyond average stamina, but they had no such battlestrategy in place. Their strategy was brute strength and ferocity, and it seemed to be working at first. The Ogre centre gave in, allowing lycan warriors to drive a wedge through their lines, but suddenly their advance came to a halt. The ogres had gave ground purposely, and now had the lycan centre flanked from all sides as they had driven their wedge into the ogre lines.

Vlath could only watch as several of his warriors fell, and as more and more blood painted the grass and mud, it became clear to him that this battle was lost. His commanders started to order a retreat, and his warriors began pulling back. The Ogres advanced and came after them, but their armor weighed them down and they dared not run. The Lycan retreat was unchallanged, but the disorganized warriors made it look more like a route.
All survivors made it back to the settlement, but those who could not fight had taken the children under guidance from Mex and Basir as ordered and sought refuge in the mountain to the north. Vlath and his commanders had survived, some slightly wounded but still standing, but another 30 lycans had to be left behind, either dead or too wounded to retreat. The survivors were likely taken captive, and as Vlath organized the rest of the settlement's inhabitants to flee north to the mountain, the Ogres caught up. They cut off their escape by flanking the village to the west and to the north, as if they knew the layout of the lands exactly. The Ogre warlord stood upon a hill, overlooking the village, and raised a flag. Vlath knew what it meant; the warlord called for an audience. The Ogre forces remained at their posts flanking the village, waiting for Vlath to show himself.

Growling, he realized he had no choice. At first, he thought he would rather die than parlay with their enemy, but he knew better than to not seek the Gods' council. And so he did. He ordered his warriors to stand down, but be at the ready in case the Ogres had enough of waiting, and he went to his hut where he had erected a small shrine.
He drew a knife, cut his palm and let a few drops of blood drip into a chalice of stone. He closed his eyes, and reached out into the void to speak with his pantheon.

At first; silence. Then, he could feel a pressence course through his scars, the scars he had received only hours ago from his gods. They spoke to him through the power they had granted him. What little words his mind could comprehend told him to not die here in vain. His part to play in the living world was not yet over, and the Gods would severely punish him if he died now before he completed what they had demanded of him: the blood of the lesser races. Indeed, the battle had spilled the blood of a few ogres, but not nearly enough to repay the loss of Lycan life. The gods were angry, but not with Vlath, but with the ogres.

A final order echoed through Vlath's mind, ringing like a bell, shaking him to the core.

Don't you dare fail us, Vlath. Live and retreat. Live to fight another day. The time will come where your vengeance upon the Ogres will be complete, and on that day we will reward you and your people greatly. You are our chosen, our champions that walk the mortal plane.

Vlath was unsure how to proceed, even though he planned to do what the Gods bid. Was he to pack up and leave? Try to escape the ogre warband? No, they were too many and their escaperoute was cut off. After a few minutes of meditation, he came up with a plan.

And so it came to be that Vlath met with Durgal, the Ogre Warlord, and allowed his village to be annexed. Months have passed since then, and the Ogres arrive once a week to collect tribute and manpower to no doubt be used as slavelabor. The non-fighters and the children had returned to the village, and all lived under the iron heel of the Ogre, but secretly they all longed to be free. They hated their captors with a burning passion, and all knew a day would come that Vlath rose up against them and overthrew them. But such an act would require cunning, planning and carefully masterminded operations as the Ogres had a numerical, equipment and strategical advantage. Luckily, you have had months of planning.

What is Vlath planning to do, to free his people?

Population: 137 men, 131 women, 22 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 50% of adult population.
Food level: Average
Resources: Requires prospection and industry.
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 5% +0% from food level, -1% from morale = 4%.
Morale: Disgruntled
Foreign relations:

At first, the Goblins with the greatest minds came together and thought, hey, a crossbow can't be that hard. It's basicly a bow mounted on another stick, yeah? As they made prototypes however, they realized such was not the case at all. With each attempt however, they improved their design and increased their understanding of the technology in the process.
They feel as if they might indeed learn to create great crossbows soon! Any day now! Totally!

[Technology advances in 1 turn.]

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 187 men, 187 women, 64 children.

Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 50% of adult population.
Food level: Below average
Resources: Hardstone (low quantity), iron, tin.
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 8% -1% from food level, +0% from morale = 7%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

By rallying his kin with his rousing speech, Blackhand had indeed shifted the winds of dwarvenkind. At least... Metalbeard kind. Or should one say, Ironbeard kind? It was all so obvious now, Blackhand thought. Their very name speaks of their heritage - Metalbeard was merely an alteration of the ancient founding clan of Ironbeard. Perhaps throughout the years they had become greater than they had once been, and decided to adopt the name of Metalbeard to show their greatness in ALL metals? Or... Perhaps it had been past arrogance? Whatever the cause or fault, just reward or error, it no longer mattered. Clan Metalbeard had endured massive hardship, and found themselves and their identity again as an effect of it.

As you look upon your people with pride, oh great King Blackhand, what do you see?
What shall be your first action upon this new land?

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 90 men, 90 women, 20 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: N/A
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 4%
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

Ah, Coinshire. A perfect little hovel of huts and houses halfway dug into the ground. Execpt, it wasn't perfect. It wasn't even fully operational. Your people has recently arrived from gods-know-where and this is, without a doubt, not a very easy time for your people.

While you're doing your best, your ruler, William Orbcoin, has yet to make any official announcements as to what to do next. Halfling families tend to be quite large, but even so this meagre population barely has half a child per household. And it's not even a household! These huts are little more than temporary shelter to be improved as time goes on! Nevertheless, the halflings of Coinshire has tough times behind them and tough times ahead of them, but with a bright outlook on the future that things will turn out alright... Or will it?

But there are a few different kinds of halflings. Some like best to sit at home and share stories by the hearth, while others prefer to set out into the world and live adventures! Some halflings aren't even called halflings at all, that's how different they are!
So... What are the halflings of Coinshire?



Population: 135 men, 125 women, 55 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: N/A
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 5%
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

All glory to Amarak! He has lead us to this new land - Nehgrob Nek'sa - to become his chosen! His medium through which he will hold dominion over these realms.
It is up to you, High Priest Gahd'Sihkra to guide your people through this monumental task that you have taken upon yourself to fullfill your oath. You are Trolls, savage and cunning, with natural regeneration and great strength.

But there are several breeds of Troll. While you share some traits, you may find other traits less common. You are...



Population: 94 men, 93 women, 21 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: N/A
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 4%
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

The first seeds had been sowed. Soon, they would grow to provide life to your people. In time, you too would return to the earth, and the cycle would begin anew. The great cycle of life was something you, as Wood Elves, held dearer to your heart than any other race upon this earth.
As you made your homes among the trees and gathered the fruits, nuts, mushrooms and berries from the region around you, life began to take shape in the settlement. Archon Soleian looked upon his people with pride as they diligently rebuilt a life for themselves. New families had already formed, and the former expedition had turned into a colony of sorts.

Further away in a clearing, five recruits trained hard with the master elf-at-arms. Soon, Soleian thought, they would become great soldiers and their discipline would be a great pride of the Enclave, despite elves hating war in general.

[Food level currently below average. It will continue to grow over the next few turns as your crops begin to yield results.]

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 93 men, 92 women, 21 children.
Military: No standing military. Currently training 5 recruits. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: Below average
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 4% -1% from food level, +0% from morale = 3%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

Ava Shieldbreaker is introduced, an bright woman who looked out from their hold while the men did manly things and flex muscles while thinking. Marum gives some good insight. She then began the task of moving the crop or planting new ones at the entrance of their hold, hoping this would bring in better crop.

Leather armor for the soldiers, walls for Duinmelamar

-Dag interprets the flame as a gift to Sigdar, so Sigdar is trying to bring it back to Dagshall.
-The Iceborn are getting ready for battle after the sailors on their longship were attacked by enemies that came from the sea.
-Dag and some elders are trying to ask the attack's shaken survivors exactly what happened and figure out who the enemy is.

Sigdar contemplated how he would physically move a flame. Fire is hot, so touching it probably wasn't a good idea. But does one dishonor the gift of Kjorn with a stick? Will he take it as a slight to his blessing if he attempted to move the stone itself? What was the answer?

He would have to... Think about it.

A) Try to light the flame on a stick and bring it back to Dagshall
B) Attempt to move the entire runestone
C) Just... Grab the thing! With my hand!
D) Enough of this foolishness, I shall smash the runestone and receive Kjorn's blessing!

Back home, Iceborn were getting ready for conflict. They had a feeling in their gut that something was coming for them. They had no idea what, however. The survivors of the attack were still raving, mad and delirious. Some had died from panic causing them to refuse to eat and sleep. Some began to worry, whatever enemy is coming for them must be truly and utterly horrifying to reduce a mighty warrior to such a sad state.

Dag stood before a decision to make, just like his son.

A) We must consult our Gods. Is this their wrath, brought down upon us, or a test for us to overcome? We shall act accordingly...
B) Ready every warrior and warrioress for battle! Fortify the shipyard and man the pallisade - no enemy shall be able to come upon us after nightfall!
C) Send out scouts to possibly find evidence of the invaders, who they are and when they will arrive. Additionally, send a runner up the river to enlist the aid of the elves.

[You may still take a basic action for this turn.]

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 222 men, 217 women, 62 children.

Livestock: A herd of goat.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 60% of adult population.
Food level: Above Average
Resources: Lumber, Iron, Honey (low quantities, legendary quality)
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 5% +1% from food level, +1% from morale = 7%.
Morale: High
Foreign relations:

Rano Rancor was nervous. He may be a smart and clever individual, but he was unsure of his skills in mechanical engineering. Still, his ruler had chosen him for the task and he was honored to accept. He would do his very best. He recruited the help of a few men that had once worked with some mechanical contraptions back from where they had once came, and he retired with them to his workshop to attempt a reverse-engineering of the crude but effective crossbow.

[Technological endeavor yields result next turn.]

Surprisingly, it had been quite easy to get the lizardman to talk. He spoke broken common, but made himself quite clear nonetheless. Amari Asto managed to fill in the blanks that the lizardman itself could not.
After just a few minutes of talking to the creature, Amari Asto managed to get him to speak.

"Who are you, invader?" asked Amari Asto.
"We Yu-le, of great God! Great serpent!" the lizardman hissed. Amari Asto guessed Yu-Le was actually its' individual name, and not the name of it's race. He couldn't tell if the lizardman was actually a lizardman or a lizardwoman...
"How dare you attack us at our home? What did you come for? Slaves and riches? Our food and supplies?"
"We come for sacrifices! Great Serpent demands blood, we obey..."
Amari Asto detected a small amount of hesitation from the creature. He decided to probe it further.
"Fine! Fine! Yu-le not want to obey. Great God, Great Serpent - but not great ruler we have!"
It seems the lizardmen placed most of their trust in their diety and less so in their leadership. Perhaps this could be used to the Antari's advantage in the future?

Further conversation revealed the lizardmen were somewhere between 300-400 in numbers, but seeing as Yu-le wasn't a very smart individual the numbers might be way off, for better or worse.
Amari Asto also manged to uncover the location of their settlement, and to his dismay it wasn't far from here to the west - practically just past the mountain pass.
The last piece of information he managed to get was the most intruiging, however. It seems the Lizardmen was in conflict with another tribe of humans to the south of them. The Antari hadn't met them yet and the scouts hadn't seen any humans other than themselves, so this was definitely another faction entirely. Where the humans were, how many they were or what they looked like however, the Yu-le did not know.

[Point of interest marked on map. (Where the humans supposedly are?)]

Population: 201 men, 199 women, 52 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: Above average
Resources: Stone, lumber, copper.
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 5% +1% from food level, +0% from morale = 6%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations:

Ah, finally. A task of which the Children of Artemon can truly shine! Leatherworkers quickly put much of their effort into the production of leather armor for the few troops available and a bunch extra for stockpiling. The armor for the 15 elves-at-arms are completed rather quickly, but with an import of raw leather goods from the giants not being that great of quantity, the rest of the stockpile won't be completed until next turn.

[Elf-at-arms upgraded with better armor.]

There are many more workers in the village than just leatherworkers however. The next task would prove to be immensely more time-consuming, and resource-consuming! A pallisade was to be constructed around the settlement. Luckily, there was a river to the east and west served as natural protection for the settlement, and made for an easy place to start.
Construction began at the eastern riverbank, where a small gatehouse would provide passage or denial of passage to those who come to Duinmelamar by boat. From there, they built the pallisade as lumber for building came in.

[Pallisade around entire settlement is completed in: 2 more turns.]

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 147 men, 149 women, 52 children.
Military: 15 Elf-at-Arms. Militia able to be conscripted up to 20% of adult population.
Food level: Above average
Resources: Lumber, fish, stone (small quantities.)
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade:

Growth: Base: 4% +1% from food level, +0% from morale = 5%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations:

The construction of an entire city would not be an easy task. The group of 40 masons, builders and architects decided to begin in small scales and increase efforts as they increased their actual capacity. As such, they started work on a modest entrance into the mountain. For now, they would remain above ground as they carved out dwellings, walls, yards and other necessary spaces from the very rock itself. There was no telling of when this gargantuan task would be completed, but as small 'districts' started to take shape and became operational, dwarves started moving in from their temporary dwellings down at the base of the mountains.

[City completed in: ?? turns.]

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 159 men, 155 women, 57 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: Average
Resources: Copper, tin, gold, lumber, iron.
Wealth: Very low (Consisting mostly of raw gold ore for now)
Trade:

Growth: Base: 5% +0% from food level, +0% from morale = 5%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations:
- The Ursar: Friendly
- The Brown-Skin Orcs: Not yet met.
- The Lilitu: Not yet met.

It was a hard-fought battle. At first it had seemed the Lycans had the numbers and morale on their side, perhaps even the gods themselves, but the Ogre warlord was cunning and ruthless. He was no stranger to war.
While Vlath had focused his strongest warriors in the front and riled up everyone's spirits, the strange pale-skinned ogres had marched in unison and purpose towards the lycan formations. Vlath ordered the charge, and from atop the hill well over a hundred lycans had rushed their enemy with weapon, fang and claw. Vlath himself had used his new powers efficiently, having been able to personally dispatch several armored ogre vanguards by channeling his new powers through his body to increase his strength and dexterity. While he had found he could not yet call upon dark magics to devestate his enemies, he could fuel himself beyond mortal strength and fought with the power of ten of his kind.

However, when one Ogre fell at his post another took his place. After a few minutes of hard fighting, the ogres shifted their ranks. Rested soldiers came forward while the tired ones were allowed to rest towards the back. They repeated the tactic, always ensuring they were fighting with full strength.
The lycans were ferocious and beyond average stamina, but they had no such battlestrategy in place. Their strategy was brute strength and ferocity, and it seemed to be working at first. The Ogre centre gave in, allowing lycan warriors to drive a wedge through their lines, but suddenly their advance came to a halt. The ogres had gave ground purposely, and now had the lycan centre flanked from all sides as they had driven their wedge into the ogre lines.

Vlath could only watch as several of his warriors fell, and as more and more blood painted the grass and mud, it became clear to him that this battle was lost. His commanders started to order a retreat, and his warriors began pulling back. The Ogres advanced and came after them, but their armor weighed them down and they dared not run. The Lycan retreat was unchallanged, but the disorganized warriors made it look more like a route.
All survivors made it back to the settlement, but those who could not fight had taken the children under guidance from Mex and Basir as ordered and sought refuge in the mountain to the north. Vlath and his commanders had survived, some slightly wounded but still standing, but another 30 lycans had to be left behind, either dead or too wounded to retreat. The survivors were likely taken captive, and as Vlath organized the rest of the settlement's inhabitants to flee north to the mountain, the Ogres caught up. They cut off their escape by flanking the village to the west and to the north, as if they knew the layout of the lands exactly. The Ogre warlord stood upon a hill, overlooking the village, and raised a flag. Vlath knew what it meant; the warlord called for an audience. The Ogre forces remained at their posts flanking the village, waiting for Vlath to show himself.

Growling, he realized he had no choice. At first, he thought he would rather die than parlay with their enemy, but he knew better than to not seek the Gods' council. And so he did. He ordered his warriors to stand down, but be at the ready in case the Ogres had enough of waiting, and he went to his hut where he had erected a small shrine.
He drew a knife, cut his palm and let a few drops of blood drip into a chalice of stone. He closed his eyes, and reached out into the void to speak with his pantheon.

At first; silence. Then, he could feel a pressence course through his scars, the scars he had received only hours ago from his gods. They spoke to him through the power they had granted him. What little words his mind could comprehend told him to not die here in vain. His part to play in the living world was not yet over, and the Gods would severely punish him if he died now before he completed what they had demanded of him: the blood of the lesser races. Indeed, the battle had spilled the blood of a few ogres, but not nearly enough to repay the loss of Lycan life. The gods were angry, but not with Vlath, but with the ogres.

A final order echoed through Vlath's mind, ringing like a bell, shaking him to the core.

Don't you dare fail us, Vlath. Live and retreat. Live to fight another day. The time will come where your vengeance upon the Ogres will be complete, and on that day we will reward you and your people greatly. You are our chosen, our champions that walk the mortal plane.

Vlath was unsure how to proceed, even though he planned to do what the Gods bid. Was he to pack up and leave? Try to escape the ogre warband? No, they were too many and their escaperoute was cut off. After a few minutes of meditation, he came up with a plan.

And so it came to be that Vlath met with Durgal, the Ogre Warlord, and allowed his village to be annexed. Months have passed since then, and the Ogres arrive once a week to collect tribute and manpower to no doubt be used as slavelabor. The non-fighters and the children had returned to the village, and all lived under the iron heel of the Ogre, but secretly they all longed to be free. They hated their captors with a burning passion, and all knew a day would come that Vlath rose up against them and overthrew them. But such an act would require cunning, planning and carefully masterminded operations as the Ogres had a numerical, equipment and strategical advantage. Luckily, you have had months of planning.

What is Vlath planning to do, to free his people?

Population: 137 men, 131 women, 22 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 50% of adult population.
Food level: Average
Resources: Requires prospection and industry.
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 5% +0% from food level, -1% from morale = 4%.
Morale: Disgruntled
Foreign relations:

Technology is like works of art. This crossbow, Gredy held it in his hand, was proof of it. Not only was it perfectly fitted for a goblin of average size, it was adjustable, had basic sights and held great potential in future upgrades and improvements. A 'finished' product is never a filled canvas - it's quite the opposite.

Immediately they put the design to good use and armed all goblins on guard-duty with their own crossbow. The bolts was the harder part, however. They had limited resources and manpower to work on it any extended length of time, and they were already producing some tools for the black goblins to work with.
Nevertheless, these crossbows would serve you well.

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 201 men, 204 women, 68 children.

Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 50% of adult population.
Food level: Below average
Resources: Hardstone (low quantity), iron, tin.
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 8% -1% from food level, +0% from morale = 7%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

Ava truly was a resourceful woman. With just a little nudge from Marum, she had basicly spearheaded the entire clan's new farming efforts. She was the first one with shovel and till in hand, and first to see her plants grow. With burning determination not to see her family starve, Ava, and indeed every other dwarf out farming, soon managed to till themselves a few "fields" on the slopes of the mountain. While outlook was bright, it would take a while for the farmland to yield results.

[Food set to Low, but is improving over time.]

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 91 men, 91 women, 22 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: Low
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 4% -2% from food level +0% from morale = 2%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

Ah, Coinshire. A perfect little hovel of huts and houses halfway dug into the ground. Execpt, it wasn't perfect. It wasn't even fully operational. Your people has recently arrived from gods-know-where and this is, without a doubt, not a very easy time for your people.

While you're doing your best, your ruler, William Orbcoin, has yet to make any official announcements as to what to do next. Halfling families tend to be quite large, but even so this meagre population barely has half a child per household. And it's not even a household! These huts are little more than temporary shelter to be improved as time goes on! Nevertheless, the halflings of Coinshire has tough times behind them and tough times ahead of them, but with a bright outlook on the future that things will turn out alright... Or will it?

But there are a few different kinds of halflings. Some like best to sit at home and share stories by the hearth, while others prefer to set out into the world and live adventures! Some halflings aren't even called halflings at all, that's how different they are!
So... What are the halflings of Coinshire?



Population: 135 men, 125 women, 55 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: N/A
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 5%
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

All glory to Amarak! He has lead us to this new land - Nehgrob Nek'sa - to become his chosen! His medium through which he will hold dominion over these realms.
It is up to you, High Priest Gahd'Sihkra to guide your people through this monumental task that you have taken upon yourself to fullfill your oath. You are Trolls, savage and cunning, with natural regeneration and great strength.

But there are several breeds of Troll. While you share some traits, you may find other traits less common. You are...



Population: 94 men, 93 women, 21 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: N/A
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 4%
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

How... Strange. While the planted seeds and cultivated plants managed to grow just fine, the Earth-Singers could not manage to use their magic to enchant the soil. It was as if the land did not speak their language, as if they were beginners anew and had to learn the arts of Earth-Singing all over again from the start. They could feel the lands around them, feel the energies course through the earth, but they could not reach out to it. They could not grasp it, could not speak to it. And how does one sing if one cannot even speak? How does one speak if one cannot even whisper? How does one whisper without a voice?

The Earth-Singers brought their concerns to the Archon, and told him they must find their voice again - they must learn the language of this land.

Afterwards, Saleian then took two elves with him and scouted the forests around them. They found plenty of game in the form of deer, boar, rabbits, insects, birds, and predators that hunted them like birds of prey (owls, forest-hawks), small black bears and ... What in the name of Mother Earth was that?!

There, in a clearing ahead, lied a massive creature, motionless. Its' skin looked dry and close to the bone, so it was either dead or malnurished. It's skin was green, scaly and covered with moss and twigs. The vegetation around it looked strange, as if it was slightly out of placed yet looked completely ordinary. They took a few steps toward it, but stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the creature open it's eyes and move.

It looked straight at them. That's when they realized what it was.

A young Wilder Drake stood before them. The strange vegetation around it curled to form it's massive wings - they had been so well camoflagued not even their elven eyes had realized what it was. Its' scales looked like bark and claws looked like twigs, and only when it blinked with it's eyes did they realize it was flesh and bone underneath. The great horns upon it's head gave away it's age - it was only a young drake. Still, the horns were stoic and grand, and shaped and colored like thick branches of a mighty tree. It's slender figure stretched out into the few beams of sunlight that shone through the trees.

After a moment it twitched and it's eyes shut tightly. With a sorrowful groan it layed back on the soft ground. It was in pain, Saleian could tell. Such a gentle, beautiful creature, and it was in pain.
Only had the elves heard of these beasts before from tales and folklore. They may believe Dragons exist, but Wilder Dragons? They were said to be Gaia's chosen, the guardians of the earth and land and everything green that graces the world. How could such a noble being had been brought low like this? How could it even be real?

As the wind caught the leaves, the sun managed to shine through the trees and caught the glimmer of a metallic object in the Drake's side. It seemed a spear was lodged into it's lower belly, having pierced the scales. Saleian could see now, there was blood on the ground beneath the wound. The Drake had probably been caught off-guard seeing as it seems so malnourished, and couldn't have properly defended itself.

The Dragon looks upon you with gentle eyes. What shall you do?

A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other

Population: 93 men, 92 women, 21 children.
Military: No standing military. Currently training 5 recruits. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: Below average (improving)
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 4% -1% from food level, +0% from morale = 3%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.