There exists a place somewhere far away, out of our world where anything can happen. The world knew no bounds when it shaped itself from nothingness, and it's inhabitants enjoy a bounty of natural wonders that we can only dream of. It is a world yet untainted by greed or pollution, where possibilities are still endless and limited only by the imagination. Magic flows with the wind and settles in every living being and wall of stone that it touches, warping and shaping the world to the will of those who know it's name. A world that is ready to be called home by anyone who embraces it for all it's worth and learns to live with it. A place we only call by it's name, Rhea.

- Faded inscription

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Day ???, Week ???, Cycle ???
Springtime, 21 C°, Sunny

What was dead, lives once more. Eyes all over the island look up at the sky at the shining ring of stones and debris that goes from horizon to horizon. As the sun rises far over lands unknown, it's light scatters from ice and water and brings the first specks of light to the morning. The sky is alit with a river of lights, shining up and then fading away moments after. There are hundreds, if not thousands of them where they once only saw rocks and a cloud of dust high above them. Dawn has been upon them for generations, but not once has the ring taken to such a colorful dance. It boggles their minds as to what it could be or what it could mean, but they won't know for millenias to come why it was so.

Still, the inhabitants of this strange land are filled with awe and respect. Every time dawn is upon them, they look up at the sky to watch the sun rise and the ring to fade, but this time... this time it is special. As if a divine force commanded them to stop and look inside, even if just for a moment, and then look outside at the world around them. Who are they. What are they doing. As they look around their hovels and count their numbers, they come to realize that nothing has changed yet the feeling still lingers on inside of them. Like a spark to be more than they are. That little cinder that has the potential to become a roaring bonfire if they take the right steps to get to it. As the sun slowly creeps over the horizon and it's warm light fills the plains of the island and seeps through the canopies of it's forests, the feeling slowly fades away as another day of hunting and gathering begins. Perhaps this was just a once in a lifetime spectacle. Perhaps it was something more.

Birds began to sing once more. Deer call out for their mates in the forest, the krollan let out gentle roars that are swept across the plains and the mighty koibra retreat into their caves for the day with one last hiss to let others know they are still watching. Sound returns to the island from the clutches of a silence that nobody seemed to notice was there until it was broken. Life goes on and memories soon fade of the spectacle. There is work to be done, after all. New hovels need to be made to protect from the elements. The animals need to be fed and cared for. The hunting party needs to leave if they are to catch the animals.

Perhaps today won't be the day that changes history forever after all. But if it was, it would be up to the many strange and unique inhabitants of the island to manifest their destiny. Each with unique skills they can use to help each other out for the betterment of all, or to make sure all others tremble at their mere sight. It is now up to them to create the life they wish to live and carve out a little piece of history for themselves. But whether or not this fame will last only from the first rays of the sun to the last, or be etched in stone and remembered thousands of year from now... that remains to be seen.

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Day ???, Week ???, Cycle ???
Gannor Mountainside
Springtime, 21 C°, Sunny

From the mountainside, it was easy to see where the morning sun arose. Its gentle shining rays pierced into the caves, where some had crammed in their own spaces within divided using wood and stone, through the doorways of the perfectly-fitted stone-laid homes that sat securely upon the mountainside, which had taken much time and labor to build and secure, and so forth. Indeed, the light itself would expose the array of Gannorian homes that sat about, taking on different styles as the large Gannor families had sought out their own living spaces and crafted them with the help of relatives. Over time this had expanded quite a bit on this side of the southern part of the mountains, and beyond the caves and the fitted-stone homes that were most common there was one other type of home farther down the mountainside. These were a few dug into the hillside, where the stone gave way to dirt, mostly shored up with stones from the front and on the inside and inhabited periodically by hunters during the occasional long treks down to hunt and gather further game and resources to supplement what they could gather and use from the mountains.

"Beeeeehhhhhhh!!!"

Among the Ganorian homes where pens had been set up in areas of greenery nearby, the mighty Ramnor let out a bleating cry as the sun rose up. It was a common morning call for those who had only a few generations ago begun to keep herds of the species. Ramnor were a type of mountain goat that the Gannor had long before hunted on the slopes and near the peaks of the mountains and so forth, each bearing two sets of dense bone-hard horns, thick, fluffy fur that made for good pelts, and two sets of eyes which sharply kept a look out for danger. The females had one less set of horns, which was smaller, but that was about the only difference. Long had these creatures been prey, but in truth the idea of keeping them had eventually caught on and now the Gannor would not be the same without them. Hardy creatures that had high stamina and could provide meat and milk and wool aplenty, through much trial and error the shorter race of humanoids had found out how to herd and move them for feeding...as well as how to set up pens to take advantage of the spots of mountain greenery dotted about the landscape they lived upon.

Animal horn had provided handles for weapons, simple wrought shafts upon which blades of stone and flint could be tied using animal sinews to make stone knives. Alongside these to the Gannor used clubs of heavy rocks bound together with plant fibers and animal sinews to crush the skulls of smaller prey or smack meat from larger animals until it was more tender, stone axes with which to cut down trees and harvest the wood for various uses, and even used wood to form the shafts for spears tipped in sharp stone, simple bone (the rarest), or jagged-cut horn spear-tips. More than others tools that could hunt at range, however, more Gannor were more and more using a small pouch of animal hide with two strings attached, spinning them to fling stones (which were all over the place) at great distances and speeds. Some even used two of these 'Kfings' (Gannor for 'slings') to shoot at closer or farther targets and protect herd and practice and so forth.

More so, the meat of the animals was good to taste...even if older Ramnor meat needed a club taken to it for a bit to make it easier to eat over the fire. Even the animal bones, filled with succulent marrow, would be cooked or charred or frankly ground up into powder and used on meat to give it more flavor and seemingly make it even more tender sometimes. The Gannor loved their food and feasts and grand meals, and their inherent curiosity about the world drove them to toy about with things once in a while. Some of these things stuck and became more popular, such as the uses for animal bones and harvesting certain kinds of tasty berries from the mountains at certain times of year, but others, such as using a Ramnor skull as a helmet to headbutt someone else with whilst wearing it, didn't exactly catch on for more obvious and practical reasons. Still, the milk of the Ramnor was something also rather useful, somewhat better for Gannor young and able to be used in a few ways (at least thus far) to provide food for adults as well.

Still, the rumbles of waking females, the light of cooking fires, the hurried movement of males waking the children to assist them, and the rather standard smell of cooking meats and berries and even some plants gathered from the mountains and lower areas trailing through the air were signs that the Gannor were rousing from their slumber. Soon the entire great village would begin to see activity pick up normally as females ate with their families and began to go about their business, though unlike the others today would be a...special one. Indeed, as the females began to assemble and talk and prepare for the day's tasks of guarding, hunting, harvesting, and so forth, a piercing noise rang out over the village alongside the piercing call of a hollowed-out Ramnor horn being blown into. Soon after, many of the females would rush over to where the village chief's home was...where they knew the origin of that hollowed-out horn being blown was.

Standing there, cloaked in a dried and prepared hide from a rare albino Ramnor, was the chief. She stood there at about a 4'11 height, on the taller end of things for a Gannor indeed, a smaller Ramnor skull sitting atop her head ceremonially after having been painted with blackened soot and water mixtures until the bone turned pitch black permanently years ago. In her left hand was held a staff of carved wood, topped in a white rounded stone tied to it and the staves before it after being found in an alcove up in the mountains generations ago. Even so the chief's ruby red eyes would scan over the crowd, ensuring enough of the females had arrived that could before she spoke.

"Long have we lived here, hunting these mountains, traveling its peaks, taking its game, and we have grown much in this time! Yet with the use of the Ramnor, we have begun to need to hunt less so than in times before! Our people have continued to flourish, and now we must place our eyes elsewhere!"

There was a general murmur among the crowd, but before it could rise the chief put a hand up and the crowd of females went silent.

"Long ago I dreamt a dream that our people would cover the world, every mountain, every forest, and even places we have not yet seen for ourselves! Even so, our people will one day grow beyond where we currently are. This cannot be denied, for we have seen it in the world about us for so very long.

Have you not seen how the beasts of the mountain split apart when their pack is too big? Have these groups not gone about where food is best found? So too in time, I feel, we shall be the same. Even if those here can keep us rooted, keep us fed, and keep us well, we must be prepared that our families and young might prosper. We must be ready that these lands are not so alien to us that we cannot survive should the need to go away come.

It is such that I call forth the bravest of hunters, the most clever of our people, and the most wise of our ranks forward! We shall prepare them, and after a great feast send them off to explore to the west and to the east of us! Then let the rest return to hunting and protecting and so forth as the village and its families need, but let one female from each of the houses come forward to serve as we prepare for our people to know the lands beyond this one of our birth!"

Quickly the murmuring returned, then turned to a general sense of agreement as the chief spoke, then after the mention of these great missions to the west and east and the sending off of those going on it with a great feast it turned into a cheering crowd. Sure the idea of a feast was something big, and gained the crowd's approval outright, but at the same time the chief did have a point in the end that the vast majority could agree with. The great village they had was large, populous, and even if they were becoming more rooted to the land they like the animals of the world would not be able to sustain such growth indefinitely.

Already the signs of some crowding were showing, and to look beyond would be a reasonable enough way to find good land to place some of their people on. A second village, as it were, and a third as well at that! Things that would start small, yet grow as they had here. It was simply a practical thing.

And so the females would disperse in a hurry, a portion staying with the chief as myriad others went to spread the news to their families and others who had not been at the meeting. A great hunt would be undertaken, a great gathering would be initiated, and tonight...they would feast to celebrate the growth of their people! Tonight, they would celebrate the trek of their brave ones to scour the land to the east and west!

Only time would tell, however, what the results and consequences of this would be...

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Day ???, Week ???, Cycle ???
Along the River, Thugal Village (Wetlands/Forest/Grasslands)
Springtime, 30 C°, Sunny

Standing above the water of the wetlands were homes wrought of wood, standing on rather thick and strong legs that held them up and away from the murky waters on the southern side of the river. Between these homes were bridges of wood, cut and prepared and secured and wedged into place where even the mighty winds would not shake them loose, with great wooden platforms secured upon great pillars of wood stuck down deep into the waters and ground being interspersed about between every so many homes. This that individuals might meet and speak and talk and move between their homes safely, and move supplies to build their homes that the community would assist with and attach to the ever-growing above-water living space that kept them safe from even the mighty floods the rivers would occasionally dump into these wetlands.

Away from these was also another great wooden platform, yet one that was unlike all the others. It was one with Thugal guard standing beside it with spears wrought of the best wood, stone, bone, and so forth. Upon it was dirt hauled in from the murky waters and land beyond the wetlands, with a great shelter built about it. Yea, even upon this dirt itself was also arrayed something special...growing spores, thick stalks topped in a mushroom cap, and other various stages of the latter half of the long gestation Thugal young underwent before emerging and being 'born'. A sacred and safe place where the community cared for young who could not be seeded and grown the rest of the way in their own homes as said homes were either being built and prepared still or otherwise were absent.

This was the second of two great villages, the other being the first and built just a ways away north into where grasslands and forest met. They had been the second village, diving the large population into two that there would be room to build homes. And here they had built homes, working on them and learning from the mistakes of building them too close to the water. Platforms of river/wetland reeds and wood and bound by plant fibers had been used to get the supplies out there and get them into place, before more could be built up from them and secured. It was work that had taken a long time to stabilize, work on, and build, and accidents and collapses had occurred along the way. Yet this height and advantage was theirs, and at the center of this second village was the Head's large home where the village's meetings were held in front of each day.

Guards protected the communal area where young were grown, as well as the edges of the village, whilst hunters and gatherers set out to search for food to the north, south, and even within the river itself near the edges and within the wetlands. Spears were the most common tool for them to use to stab and piece creatures and beasts and so forth that were being hunted or menaced the village, though handheld tools for throwing spears at a greater distance were commonly in use to hit targets at a range (atlatl/spear throwing tool) and had become common for their ease of use and the great mastery of which one could gain in using them in both villages. Lesser so weapons of hewn and bent wood (bows), with a string of the best animal sinews, were used to fire smaller and more nimble shafts of wood and bone tipped with small spear-tips and feathers from birds of the trees attached to the back of them (arrows). Such weapons were easier to make projectiles for, and had been catching on more in both villages to kill smaller prey items and creatures and more nimble targets, though the spear-thrower was still in use at the same time for larger prey, big threats, and hitting targets harder and so forth. In other words, each tool/weapon had their place and had taken a role and niche among the Thugal.

And having such weapons seemed more important lately than they had been before. There were reports from hunters who ventured out a bit farther that great beasts with two hoofed legs and more were running about the grasslands. It had been knowledge for some time, leading to the second village being built a long time ago over the wetlands and river. Things could not run well in this, that much they knew from experience, and so it seemed 'safer' in a sense. Even the main village, however, had already been sticking many a log of wood into the ground to surround the village, sharpening the tips and securing them and shoring them up with earth on both sides to keep them in-place to keep out beasts. Still, since there had been no run-ins there was nothing to fear, and save for preparing safety ahead of time the fungal species had been rather relaxed about it all. Life, in truth, had continued on as normal in both of the villages and homes within. Yet today, of all days, a sort of change could be smelled as it wafted in upon the morning breeze...

"Village Head, Village Head!"

A worried voice shouted into the home of the Village Head, who after a light grumble stood up and came to the door.

The Village Head, with her white-spotted red cap and all, was donned in a scaly animal pelt over some of herself, clothing not much of herself as was the case with all Thugal clothing being very barebones and simple, and likewise a stone-head spear decorated in designs on its shaft and feathers secured near the tip designated the Village Head from others...and as always ready to fight for her people as well as to lead them. Still, her clay-red eyes looked upon the worried messenger before her. The yellow-capped black-striped Thugal before her was huffing and puffing, notable haste and worry in her eyes.

The chief's eyes narrowed.

"What is the matter? Are we in danger?"

"There is a messenger from the other village, who has run all the way here! They bear an urgent message from the other Village Head!"

An urgent message from the other village? This could be very important as such hasty messages were not sent lightly among the Thugal. Never. It had been agreed upon when the second village was founded even.

Thus giving a nod and gesture for the villager to lead the way, the Village Head followed her over the bridges and past the meeting-places until she reached the rather large wooden ramp-bridge that led into the village from the far bank of the grasslands. It would be here that the chief would see a plain tan-capped Thugal standing there, huffing and puffing as about four of the villagers were trying to help her cool off and giving her some water. She looked horrendously exhausted, though as the Village Head approached she tried to stand back up...only to sit back on the ground at the insistence of the villagers with her.

"Sit, you have traveled a long way in such haste. If you need food, we will provide you a meal and shelter to rest before you return.

Now speak. I am the Head of this village, and I have bene told you bring a message."

The tan-capped messenger nodded slowly, letting out a deep breath and summing up some energy before beginning to speak between ragged breaths.

"Our Village Head...wants to inform you...that we have seen the Iht'mal (hoof-legs) wander closer....to our village than ever before. We desire....you send representatrives...so we can....investigate them....lest we expose...all to a potential danger. That is my message..."

The messenger coughed hard after speaking, though the Village Head simply motioned into the village with her spear as she addressed the guards and few villagers there.

"Take her into the village, give her rest and her meal. Then send word about the village for our Ki'tae (hunters-of-land) to assemble before my home, but not the Ki'toh (hunters-of-water) or Ki'tohra (hunters-of-water's-edge). Make it known this is an important matter, and they must come at once so we may prepare for the morrow'.

So I have said, so make it be."

Nodding, the villagers (including the one who led the Village Head there) began to pick up the messenger to carry as two of the guards took off running deeper into the village. Soon there would be a flurry of activity as the hunters assembled and such, and yet...the Village Head found herself taking a second to look out at the grassland plains beyond for a moment. The breeze blew past her face and rustled the hardy grasses, yet after looking out into nothing she simply sighed again and turned to go back into the village.

Hopefully things would not go bad with this endeavor.

A camera crew sits themselves in the office of Dr. Brown, the lead professor for the Department of Anthropology at the university. Issa, the interviewer and overall project for the documentary, is the closest person near Dr. Brown with his seating just a few meters away from his oak desk. Issa moves his hands and gets a microphone near Dr. Brown’s mouth. The sound-man checks the audio equipment and settings before he gives the ok-sign.

“How are you, Dr. Brown?” Issa starts off.

“I’m good. I’m good. Happy to be here,” Dr. Brown gives a big warm smile as he folds his hands onto the desk.

“I would like to ask a few questions about early human civilization. Could you just give a small overview of them?” Issa inquires.

“Glad you asked. The earliest evidence of human civilization dates back around six thousand five hundred years ago. More specifically, I’ll focus on the people of Machaka. At this time, at the end-stage of the neolithic age, we can see the adoption of agriculture and sedentary society. This development was mainly focused around the Shani Delta - becoming the cradle of human civilization.”

“Can you go into more detail about Machaka and its society?” Issa asks.

“Of course. The formation of hierarchy and government was very much still in its youth. The closest thing that you’ll get was a grand council of elders that would talk about important issues. This would later be the staging place for early human government and politics, but that is much later down in the history of Machaka. Early religion was focused on the sun, moon, and river. Marini was the sun god. Nia was the moon god, and Eshe was the river god,” Dr. Brown pauses for a second, uncapping a bottle of water to drink. He continues.

“It would be important to also note that agriculture was still developing. A lot of people still had to hunt and gather food to fulfill their daily needs. Fun fact, we now know that the first crop grown was in fact barley. Moving on, I would like to share the daily activity of an average human at this time period,” Dr. Brown pauses to think.

“Let’s call our person...Josh. Josh normally woke up as the sun demanded. Next, he would go outside and pray to Marini. After that, Josh tasked himself to either gather or hunt down food. If not that then he would trend to the fields. It’s important to note that this society was still largely egalitarian, and the roles of man and women were largely the same. The humans of Machaka only ate two meals a day - one in the noon and one near sundown. Once their duties were done then they had their free time and did whatever they wanted for the rest of the day,” Dr. Brown states.

“Thank you for your insight. One last question. How did the people of Machaka advance?” Issa wonders.

“Good question. The humans of Machaka largely focused on developing their agriculture, focusing on gaining better yields of grains. The barley that you know today is largely due to their investments of breeding. With new yields of crops, they eventually developed photo-writing and then the concept of numbers,” Dr. Brown notes.

GUARNI

Titanic beginnings

"Once before time the Seven Divines existed. They had a harmonious yet unsatisfied life. To alleviate their eternal boredom they created the sky, a vast infinite realm, and populated it with countless stars, the Aesur. They could not move, and only speak through their radiance. The Seven Divines found this good but the Aesur wanted to destroy their chains and chose to rebel against their creators. This war lasted eons but ultimately the Aesur triumphed, rendering the Seven Divines powerless to oppose them. With their newfound freedom they created many new worlds, including our land of Midurd. Yet they could not finish this task alone, they needed helpers. They created numerous races, slaves to the Aesur with the task of shaping the world. Among the first of these creations were the Guarni, giants taller than the tallest mountains. Our very steps parted the seas and created new mountains. Over the time many other races, animals and plants spread across Midurd. Yet this peace would not last. Unwilling to be treated like the lower races the titans, including the Guarni, rebelled against their creators This heralded the beginning of the devastating Titan War. The dry land, once whole, split into many pieces and the Guarni-led titans were slaughtered. The survivors were henceforth stripped from their former size and power, with the very Sun (Malawun) being their eternal jailor. Malawun is a benevolent yet strict god who bestows gifts upon Midurd yet punishes those with overt ambitions. His shine grows the fields, spreads life and fills the heart. Yet this very light also robs us of our true power. Ever since the Titan War the Guarni live in punishment, forced to struggle in the same dirt as lower races do. The Sun shall be a reminder of our folly and shame. Yet not all hope is lost. Ogynn, the first of the first giants, is alive and continues the fight. He hides deep within Midurd, beneath 777 layers. His gifts are subtle yet present everywhere. He is our All-Father, our beloved ancestor."

Carnog the Eldest concluded his tale. The blind old giant sat in front of the pyre, seeking its wrathm. His son Eadan already took over his responsibility as remembrancer of the entire tribe. Yet the old Carnog still liked his tales. The eon old giant was supposedly the grandson of the legendary Gargat, a minor actor during the Titan War. Carnog was just a child when winters been long and ardous, when food was scarce and families divided. He was present when the once scattered Guarni families united under a single tribe and he actively participated in the grand task of retrieving the tales and legends of his kin. He was an old man from a time when Guarni died young. It's been a great many seasons since the old Carnog could even walk more than a few steps without assistance but the people respected him.

Yet being respected and leading the tribe was two different matters. The Guarni tribe always followed the mightiest warrior, the strongest fighter whom they titled as the Kaano, the one rule above all. His name was Baldar, his towering 34 feet tall figure and muscular build alone was enough to discourage anyone to challenge him. He was the strongest of the tribe and his orders were the law. Baldar had a large family of three wives who were tasked to manage the tribe's daily lives. As the strongest fighter Baldar had a reputation to maintain. He participated in big hunts, headed raids and wanted to take all the riches. As such the Guarni life in the village was dictated by the whims of three women. Brynja was a hardy matron and Baldar's first wife. She was so far the only wife providing Baldar with a heir so she enjoyed special status. Frida was the youngest of the three with intellect and knowledge which belied her age. Ingerd was the most down to earth of the three who often worked with the rest of the tribe and kept everything in order. Without these three the village doubtlessly would've never gotten this far.

Speaking of which, the village itself was massive in size for only 47 adult members. The perimeter were surrounded by earthen walls 4 meters tall, insufficient to keep out a fellow Guarni but more than enough to protect against animals. Thanks to this they didn't require gates, you could just walk past it. The most obvious sight to visitors were the gigantic yurts, tent-like structures made of felt with wooden reinforcements. Though appropriately giant in size these tents had a secret, they were rarely built on level ground. More often than not the construction began by digging a (by human standards) deep hole thus giving more space to leave in. Felt was valuable afterall. The reason behind this particular choice was simple, the Guarni were semi-nomads. They practice agriculture and keep animals but they never remain in the same place for long. Once the fields deplete of their nutrients they harvest everything, gather up the seeds, slaughter all animals and leave for the next place.

Yet covering the basic infrastructure of the Guarni misses a very important aspect of their lives which is art. While vibrant colors are rare to come by the Guarni loves their statues. Wooden carvings, totem columns representing the Guarni image of the world are practically everywhere. The center of the Guarni village contains a towering obelisk, taller than anything else. This piece been carved up just after the Guarni settle down in a region. It contains symbols, drawings and simple writing depicting Guarni culture and eventually be filled with the life of the villagers spent here. According to their creation myth the Guarni once were part of the titanic races who shaped the very mountains. The obelisks symbolize their past and serve as reminders of their presence in the region. Their sturdy construction means they shall remain for eons for other races to see. In rare times when they settle in an especially abundant region the Guarni gets more creative and they create megaliths, an arrangement of multiple huge pieces of rock meant to represent their understanding of the world. Races who pass these stone structures would know one thing: they are treading into the region of giants.

Actions:

• The Guarni settled down in the mountain plateau
• Hunters gather new animals to breed and domesticate for their stay
• They are also looking for animal companions to help herding the animals and guard their sleep
• Encounter with other sapient race would be also encouraged

Adarnians

As the sun rises in the horizon and the starlily veil hides behind the blue skies the Adarnian village begun to wake up sat beside a small river surrounded by the temperate woods of Navbera Çeman people begun to start the work of the day being a small crawl to begin as their nature slowed then down by a little as the sun was shining in the horizon someone sat on top of a small hill in distance from the Adarnian village seeing the moon fading slightly with the blue sky taking prevalence and the small stars that are still visible in the fading dark in the opposite side of the sun she took a sigh before her relaxed stopped by the feeling someone hitting her head with a gentle punch on top of her head dodging her horns, looking up seeing her father the chief of the tribe she then said small worry “what is it father” He then said “you look too much Şev and Roj sometimes Sahdina ” she look forward again “They our gods they created this world so wish to contemplate then when they are together” a small chuckle came out of him hearing that story he told long ago he then said “may the spirits guide your faith well girl” she found that quote odd while she understood the animal spirit she thought what would Şev and Roj be spirits or something else her mind thinked about the nature of the spirits.

After the sun finally was high in the risk the village was now bustling with life as people tended to small gardens with fruits, some collecting clay from the river to make rudimentary pottery to hold water or some food for later meanwhile in the woods Sahdina walked with a hunting group through the forest a quicker strapped to her back and bow and arrow in hand walking carefully in the woods listening to the sounds and lying quietly in the ground while watching a small patch of open ground she then saw a Lepus leaving a bush standing in the open grass her eyes growing shaper and she draw sat her bow down for a moment time seemed to stand still she approached very slowly trying to grab one of then until a rowar in the distance made her jump the Lepus seeing her running away she groaned seeing that it was hard catching those pesky things when they appear for once a second howl was soon heard as she heard it her eyes widened saying “Triachs” she immediately rushed towards the howl worried for a moment.

As he runned through the woods seeing four Adarnians one with his leg wounded as she approached more she saw a pack of at least 19 Triachs from her limited view in front being fend off by the other 3 while in a small retreat by a few steps by what she could notice looking at the area her eyes glanced over to a Triach starting to go around slowly go around their wall of spears with quick reflexes she put an arrow into her bow and shot at the Triach aiming for its head but hitting its shoulder making it jump back with a holw she then holsters the bow quickly and rushes towards then and grabbing the spear of the wounded person she then said standing beside then “How did you got into this?” one of then says charging the spear to make the Triachs stay back “we walked straight into then by the time we noticed it was too late” Looking around seeing the wounded person and the Triachs at front the world seems slow to her thinking for a moment she then says to herself out loud “Roj... Şev. Give us strength!” the other three hearing this then look up seeing the light breaching through the trees branches almost say “May Roj (Sun) Aid us” the three soon rushed forward spears pointed and started stabbing the creatures pulling knives kicking and punching grabbing flint knives and swinging as Sahdina punched and swinged her knife and grabbed her already broken spear and smacked into the face of Triach it seemed like they don't stop coming from around seeing a Triach charging she grabbed her already quite loose knife and stab it in the head making it fall to the ground after a moment of silence she looked around there were 15 bodies of Triachs around she looked back seeing the 3 she then said “Are you guys okay?”

They looked at each other and nodded looking at herself she just had some small cuts she smiled for a moment and looked up seeing the warm rays of the sun bathing her she then said “Roj and Sev thank you” The three soon begin to return to the camp and with it the tale of the story while the Adarnians are not odd with the concept of divinities majorly towards the spirits but after that day a new idea came up the gods Roj and Sev the sun and the moon forgers of our world a new religion is on the rise. While faiths begin to slowly form the Adarnians also slowly begun to improve their means attempting to domesticate the small animals of the forest while at the same time domesticating plants and others for better food sources in attempts to make the work less hard for than a race that for now is slowly growing to the southeast meanwhile sightings of skittermander begin to appear to those who flow the rivers eastward or venture to the east.

It was a time before time, when the first of us woke from our slumber. It was a long, arduous sleep filled with living nightmares and a constant unease in our minds. But then, we felt that call, that touch that sent a shiver coursing through our bodies and made us open our eyes. It was a feeling we knew we shared but couldn't explain the best we tried: we just felt it. On that morning when we left our homes we knew that there was something out there that had beckoned to us and changed us so we would seek it out. We didn't know if it was good or bad, but we didn't hesitate to pursue it. Little did we know that it would be our undoing hundreds of years later...

- Forgotten Mural Site

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Day ???, Week ???, Cycle ???

On the steppes of the Takhal~

The ground shakes and the air trembles. A rumbling sound accompanies the beating of the drums as Daarö sings his song and the younglings listen to his tale. Yet there is a certain calmness in the air that cannot be explained in face of the ever intensifying beating of drums that all can hear and feel, their blood boiling within their veins even as chills run down their spines. As the song draws near it's end, the fire roars to life and begins to dance in vibrant colors, forming shapes never before seen to the young Takhal. It's powerful and intense, but it's oddly soothing at the same time as it enchants the eye.

Then the song comes to an end, and the fire hisses one last time before it returns to the way it was, crackling away quietly into the wind. Now they start to notice it: the wind has picked up as it rushes past them, blowing air at the fire and making it roar to life once more. Then hisses began to fill the air, and soon enough the first droplets of rain began to appear on the arms and legs of the Takhal. The sky is shrouded with clouds that darken even though it was clear not long ago. As the rain began to fall, the fire begins to crackle and dwindle in brightness as the approaching storm begins to soak the logs. There will be no fire here for the night, but there will be moment to remember for the Takhal young who listened to the song of Daarö.

---

In the swamps of the Sobek~

Unbeknownst to the group bickering over the skull of a Krollan, one of the Sobek hunters had made a discovery that would prove to be most interesting to even the most stubborn of the elders. Returning from his hunt late, distracted by prey he now brings on his back, the young hunter speaks of a cave the shone through the mist and the bushes covering the marshy lands around it. Nestled under a large mangrove that rivalled the largest they had seen, within the upturned boulders was a gleaming surface of green and azure that blended in with the undergrowth under the shadow, but as the sun shone on it it would make even the sobek hunter squint. It was like they had seen before: boulders moved in front of a cave to obscure it, the hiding spot of many Koibras where they consume their prey and lay their eggs. But these boulders were different as they reflected the light, their green and blue colors mesmerizing even the wildlife.

Within it's murky and dark depths laid a cave of not a Koibra, but a pack of Stillios who have made it their home. An unfortunate turn of events for the Koibra who might return to the nest in the next rainy season, but great news for the young hunter: his prey a young lizard impaled by spears and bit by sharp teeth, to serve as both a warning to Stillio and a relief for the Sobek that a mighty beast was not the inhabitant of the cave so close to the border of their hunting grounds. Perhaps a place worth visiting once more with a party of hunters.

---

Over the skies of the Gannor expedition~

The night had passed and the feast was held in honor of the hunters who would leave the village of the Gannor to seek out new and prosperous lands for their kin to settle and call their new home. The party venturing West was making great strides, their path unhampered by the forests the team heading east would have to face. The air was thin on the plateau and the snow covered peak shone brightly in the sun behind them, while the pines along the spine of the hill they descended on yielded softly to the cold wind the blew over the land.

A shadow slowly passed over them, and none bat an eye as the morning had brought clouds along with them that would often obscure the sky. But as quickly as it came it disappeared, and before they had a chance to look at the sky a deafening screech filled the air and shook the ground below them. They now stood in the shadow of a giant winged figure that obscured the sun, it's wings so expansive that they might as well have extended from horizon to horizon. All the Gannor knew the tales of the birds who would snatch people and animals alike, but few have ventured far enough to warrant such an attention. But now, they were face to face with a mighty Ruh, as it bore it's sharp claws at them and then began it's steep dive to attack the intruders that have encroached upon it's lands.

---

Under the murky depths of the Thugal village~

The water below the elevated village of the Thugal laid dormant for now, but not all was well with the water. The surface covered in thick foliage, little fish swam near the village to be caught. Even some of the larger predators of these marshy areas avoided the village, including the mighty Koibras and serpents that would have no trouble dealing with the ill-armed defenders of the village. But it wasn't for the fact that the Thugal were such a nuisance that the waters were devoid of animals, but rather something that the mushrooms would find it very soon.

There was a deafening crack, like a bolt of lightning that had struck near the village, yet the skies were clear of any clouds. Then a moment later another one, and the wooden supports shook violently along the edge of the village. One of the houses began to slowly list before splinters flew everywhere and to the sound of one last deafening crack the entire thing fell into the water, creating an explosion of water that sent droplets across the entire village. The ripples in the water were quickly absorbed the nearby plants, but on the spot of the once-standing house was now a large pile of debris that was cleared of plants that the structure had brought under. But as the last of the bubbles began to disappear, something else began to rise: flakes of silvery material that floated on the surface of the water, clumping together slowly and forming a shining spectacle in the sunlight to those who were preparing to retrieve what could be retrieved from the building. Perhaps an error on their fault creating the house... perhaps something else worth investigating.

---

Carved into the rocks of the Guarni~

A tale as old as time, all the Guarni have heard the tales of Carnog a dozen times, but it always inspired them of what was and what could be. Of a time when they ruled nature and not get ruled by it, and of a time when they will once more rule over the lesser races like the gods that had created them and cast them down to this realm. But for hundreds of years those tales have been told with no-one bringing about a change, and the hopes of reclaiming their ancestral place above others were shadowed by the needs of food and shelter, even if the Guarni had come a long way since the eons they've spent on this earth.

But as the sun rose and began another day on the island, some of the Guarni had spotted something strange in the nearby hills whilst looking for animals to capture and domesticate for their stay: a formation of rocks that were out of place even in the rugged terrain of their home.

The trip to the formation was unpleasant at the very least, even the large bodies of the giants taking considerable time to reach the stone murial that laid nestled above a rocky outcrop a few hundred feet above their village. It was easy to miss due to the face of the rock hiding the murial and the sun setting on the other side of the mountain and casting shade of these parts of the cliffside, but here it now laid before the giants. A familiar sight to any Guarni, yet distinct in it's own way to make them question if it was one of theirs from so long ago even their oldest remembrancer couldn't recall. Upon the largest boulder that perched upon the top of a pile of smaller rocks, there was a carving of unmistakably giant origin that depicted what looked like people eerily similar to the Guarni, standing atop a large mountain and towering over a crowd of smaller, hooded figurines that were offering bowls of food, animals and other items to the central figures. Perhaps the creation of a Guarni from so many winters ago most didn't remember, the peculiar nature of this giant carving was certainly worth investigating by the wisest amongst them.

---

@Willy Vereb@Crusader Lord@rezay@Klomster

"Let the challenger stand forth!" The acclamation was greeted by the thunder of a hundred log drums as Merdhrai wielded wooden clubs with a steady and rhythmic beat. Seashell horns made from the corpses of massive sea snails droned out a haunting huuuuuun that echoed over the barbaric scene unfolding in the small clearing.

Deep amid towering trees and surrounded on all sides by a mighty river delta, the Challengers Circle waited the coming battle. A space some forty space lengths wide had been cleared in the deepest part of the delta. In its centre a deep hole had been dug and four trenches dug to channel water into it. A circle of black stone had been set four spear lengths from either side of the hole, leaving the rest of the space to be filled by the hundreds of Merdhrai who swayed and chanted with the beat of the drummers. To the humans who hunted the delta, the strange and menacing music was warning enough not to stray far into the watery expanse.

No torches existed here, not in this place of the Merdhrai, only the bright moon above served to light the space and the still waters of the centre pool appeared inky black beneath a surface turned to burnished silver. This was a battle of the strongest and most cunning of their kind, a struggle to be named Skipper of the Merdhrai, the highest position among their kind.

"Riverjack!" The roar came from hundreds of throats as a tall brawny male, nearly four and half feet tall, stepped from the crowd and into the black stones. His brown fur rippled as he flexed impressive muscles and expertly spun a long wooden spear shaft between his paws. The current Skipper of the Merdhrai was an impressive figure though greying fur around his muzzle showed he past his prime.

"Streambattle!" This cry heralded the arrival of a smaller female who bounded into the circle on all fours, her long tail slapping the ground with excitement. Fur nearly as black as night was pierced by a pair of savage looking eyes and white teeth flashed in the darkness.

There was no further need of an announcer, all present knew what must come next. The two would fight and the first to be killed, knocked unconscious, or thrown from the black stones, would be the loser.

Riverjack eyed his opponent carefully through half lidded eyes even as she circled toward him. The attack, when it came, was blindingly fast as she rushed him down low. Despite their ability to walk on two legs, the Merdhrai were most dangerous when they resorted to their most primal fighting methods. Dangerous, unless their opponent was more experienced.

The heavy stick flashed in the moonlight, its bone white colour easy to track, and the crowd roared their appreciation as it slammed into Streambattles shoulder to send the smaller Merdhrai sliding across the ground toward the silvery pool.

In an instant the bigger fighter dropped his stick and lunged, using his weight to tackle his smaller opponent into the pool. Water exploded into the air like a thousand small moonstones as the two shapes blew the clam surface apart.

Down into the blackness they went as Streambattle fought to regain her breath from the blow. Riverjack, wise in the ways of war, clamped his teeth over the back of her neck and bit down hard enough to pierce the thick fur. Streambattle opened her mouth to cry out and inhaled water at once.

The Merdhrai were meant for the water, they gloried in it, but even they couldn't live by breathing in water. In an instant the fight was forgotten as Streambattle struggled frantically to try and escape toward the surface and the moon directly above, a silver orb that seemed to grow smaller as Riverjack drove her deeper.

When she regained consciousness she was lying on the edge of the Challengers Circle, just beyond the black stones. The night was quiet, the crowds gone, the drums silent. Only her mother, Riverjacks first wife, remained crouched on her hind legs, watching her daughter intently for a moment before speaking.

"Well, did you prove your point?"

Streambattle rubbed the back of her neck, the terror of her near drowning fresh with the pain that still throbbed there. She nodded slowly.

"Aye, he's a tough old bastard."

"Next time, Streambattle, he will kill you."

She did not doubt that at all.

When the tribes left us, we had nowhere to go. So we formed our own tribe, a band of outcasts with a common goal. Little did we know that only our names would be remembered for the eons at the time, and we set out with dread weighing heavy on us, but the spirit of freedom keeping us moving forward. None of us really knew what it was that we were searching, but that was soon about to change when we made the first, and perhaps most important discovery of our millennia long journey...

- Forgotten Mural Site

---

In the forests of the Adarnians~

One encounter with the Triachs was clearly not enough for fate. Laying in wait, pairs of eyes followed every movement that the hunting parties of the tall Adarnians made all over the forest. Waiting for the right moment to strike, a moment that came once the hunting parties had left the village for a day. Then suddenly, roars and thunderous battlecries emitted from the bushes around the perimeter of the shacks the Adarnians used as a home and about a dozen small creatures with an ugly face and a green skin rushed towards the Adarnians left in the village, carrying spears in their hands that they flailed around menacingly. Their eyes were bloodshot and their angry shouting and grunting was clearly a sign of their ill intent as they approached the village as fast as their tiny legs allowed. This would not be resolved peacefully...

---

On the plains of the humans~

The weather was fair, and a cool breeze from the mountains. Fish were plenty and the bushes were ripe with berries and nuts that the gatherers could pick. Game was easy to catch and fat in the forest, making for an efficient hunting for the inhabitants of the human villages. Herds of Striders were curiously watching the humans as they went about the daily business, sometime letting out a few loud "squawks" if someone got to close to them. But as the day progressed, more and more reports of shady figures began to appear from gatherers and hunters all over the region. Tall, mysterious figures that would disappear without a trace whenever people began to approach them. Most of these tales came from areas closer to the north-eastern side of their territory, but some have told about similar findings from all the way at the river's source. Whatever it was, the more and more people saw these figures from the distance, the less likely it was that people were just imagining things.

---

In the rivers of the Merdhrai~

The night of the fight came and went, the events living sharply in the memory of those who witnessed the duel between the leader of the tribe and his daughter. The youngling had much to learn still, but she had at least proven that she wasn't afraid to face someone stronger than her. However, the tales of their fight would start to fade as curious items began to appear after water retreated into the ocean after the tide: pieces of plank wood, washed up on shore along with rope and fabric that were of a much more fine quality than that of the Merdhrai. There was enough of this debris to make it more than just some strange occurance, but there was no culprit to be seen: no collapsed buildings, or Mordhrai that went out at sea to test their luck. Not to mention the apparent age of these materials, though water made it hard to estimate such a thing. Either way, whatever the source was, it was likely to be found within the bay the otters called a home.

---

@Pagemaster@DX3214@Dog

Riverjack squatted and studied the items that had been brought before him by several young Merdhrai. Among them, her face grave, was Streambattle. The group had been collecting mussels along the shoreline when they stumbled upon the first of the objects, a hefty cord of wood with ropes hanging from it. Such ropes! Nothing like the kelp lines that the Merdhrai used among their own kin for fishing and building. It was stronger, so much stronger. The four of them had conducted a tug of war before bringing it home and had been unable to break it.

"All by the shoreline near the rocks?" Riverjack asked, raising an eyebrow at the groups ring leader, a fit looking creature by the name of Finbarr.

"That's right Skipper. This here was floating when we found it, half submerged." A paw, claws retracted, reached out to touch the broad swath of cloth that had been found attached to another cord of wood. "It's tough and quite large. Big enough to provide cover for several beasts.

Riverjack nodded as he pondered the pieces. Individually they meant little to him, but coming together as they had, it meant something new and unexpected had come to his corner of the world. He scratched the back of his neck as he tried to make sense of the wreckage. Yes, it had to be wreckage. The wood was broken with great force at the ends, and the rope had snapped, the cloth was torn. This was all part of something that had once been whole. Something large.

"We must discover more. Finbarr, take these three and scout the bay. There was a strong tide last night, the pieces may have come from further out to sea. Be careful and go armed. The Teeth of the Deep have been active with the new moon. You must return before nightfall."

Finbarrs chest swelled with pride as he placed a paw across his chest and bowed his head slightly. Streambattle glared at her father but repeated the gesture as the four of them withdrew. Riverjack watched them go, their quick bounding steps coupled with barks of excitement as they leapt to jackknife into the water. He turned his attention back to the pieces at his feet and stared harder at them wondering what they could mean.



Streambattle returned home swiftly, her cheeks burning from the humiliation of being overlooked for command of the little group. Deep down she knew Finbarr was older and more experienced, but she was the daughter of the Skipper of the Merdhrai! That ought to count for something.

"Been to see your father then?" Swiftpaddle, her mother, was seated just inside the small cave that they shared as a family along the riverbank. In one paw she held a white seashell, in the other a paintbrush that she dabbed in a rich purple colour. Like so many other Merdhrai, their small Holt, or family group, had one large communal space. Everything was done here, except relieving oneself of course. Two entrances, one above ground, and the other below water, provided access to a space made cozy with rush mats on the walls and floors. It wasn't much really, but it was home.

"I have." Streambattle snarled as she grabbed her sling and spear from the wall rack. Several other spots were empty, her fathers and four of her siblings, were already out. "He gave command of the scouting group to Finbarr."

"You're not surprised are you?" Swiftpaddles eyebrows rose as her daughter turned with barred teeth. "You challenged him and lost. By all rights, you ought to be dead."

"And that wouldn't bother you at all, would it?" Sarcasm was thick in Streambattles tone.

"No, the Merdhrai suffer no fools, girl."

The cold reply stopped Streambattle dead in her tracks and she stared at her mother with a mixture of horror and disbelief. The same creature who had given birth to her, nursed her, taught her to swim and to hunt in the shallows... How could she..?

"The strong survive among our kin. You should know this. Of the seven pups I have given your father, you are the only one who lived." Swiftpaddles gaze challenged Streambattle who suddenly felt very small. She could sense the tension in her mothers voice and it dawned on her how worried her mother had been about the fight, though she never said anything.

"Well, um, I guess that makes sense..." She scuffed the mud floor with her hind-paw and then darted forward to hug Swiftpaddle. The two shared a swift squeeze before she was pushed away and shooed toward the entrance.

"Go on. Make me proud."

Streambattle grinned and slipped quickly down the mud slide and into the current of the river that quickly pushed her toward the ocean. She surfaced briefly to glance around, catching sight of her friends nearby on the riverbank. They waved and dove into the water with her.

The four raced Northward, dodging and weaving among each other, the water rushing past, streams of bubbles marking their passage through the green water. Fish scattered before them and even the larger seabirds, some big enough to kill a individual Merdhrai, made good their escape. A hunting party was nothing to be taken lightly. The riverbed of smoothed pebbles and stones slowly gave way to sand and mud as the current slowed and the river widened.

The water turned to a turbid brown as they reached the ocean, the river current smashing into the ocean tide with such force that it churned up the sandy bottom and shortened visibility drastically. As they passed from fresh water to salt water it was easier to swim. No one knew why, but things floated better in the salt water than in the river.

"Keep within eyesight of each other. We will check the shallows first." Finbarr ordered and Streambattle nodded without argument. She did not see Finbarr blow out his cheeks in relief; he had been deeply worried about taking along the hot headed daughter of the chief.

In the end, the search for the source of the strange pieces turned out to be easier than expected. They encountered a foraging party returning from the upper reef who said they had seen a strange thing, a great wooden shell dashed upon the rocks, tree trunks rising from its decks but instead of leaves, its branches had been covered with rope and cloth.

The four young Merdhrai turned their noses north and shot through the water, intent on seeking the mysterious arrival.

A slither of light pierces through a gap into the straw and wooden hut. The sunlight casts itself upon Nnamani’s eyes, forcing the man to wake up from his sleep. Nnamani rubs his eyes and gets up from his straw bed. The groggy feel from the night’s sleep stops the man from doing anything for a few short moments. Nnamani’s body slowly starts to kick into gear as his bodily functions get ready for another day of work. Most of the others are also awake, but Nnamani appears to be the last one of the home. Once the grogginess faints away, Nnamani stands up and walks outside.

The sounds of nature first fill the ears of Nnamani before it is overtaken by the louder clatter of the people’s toil. Nnamani seeks work and goes to his wife for answers. Nnamani’s wife, Chane, who is currently skinning a deer, tells that the crops need working and that Nnamani should go with the group gathering at the fields to do so. Nnamani nods, giving his wife a quick hug before he heads off to the nearby fields. Arriving by foot, Nnamani finds a gathering of men and women discussing. Nnamani finds himself a place and listens in. The current discussion revolves around the assignment of areas for work. Before long, everyone gets their assigned areas and starts the process of cutting. Nnamani, like everyone else, uses a sharp piece of flint on a stick to do the labor of removing the barley stem from the earth. The hours go on, and Nnamani finishes his field. The others are also done with their work. Everyone piles the barley into one large stack before everyone then carries back the crops home. This, of course, takes another few hours to do.

For the last duties of the day, the group decides to gather some berries from the wild. Nnamani quickly finds himself among many bushes and tall grass. Nnamani, like any good person, knows what is good to pick, and what else is not good for eating. The local blueberries are normally safe, while the pinkish-colored ones often give extreme headaches before death. Once everything is said and done, the group goes back to their homes. Dinner is eaten, a few more hours of work is done and life goes on as per normal.

---

Bits and pieces of wood, fabric and rope. They were all intricately crafted, much more sophisticated than what the Merdhrai could ever hope to produce. They were all the signs that were so obvious to those who knew what it belonged to, but for most of the otterfolk it was still a mystery as to what their true origin was. But as with all things, soon the secrets of these objects would reveal themselves in the most spectacular fashion.

Dashing across the water of the shielded natural harbor, the greater area of which a part the Merdhrai had called home, it wasn't long until the quick and agile otters finally bumped into what they were searching. To the northeast of their village, dashed up on the rocks near the entrance to the large bay, was a ship of a large size that had been clearly caught in a storm and then lost to it's rage as it was caught on the wave breakers. It's imposing wooden hull relatively intact, though showing signs of age already that seemed to go against the common wisdom of ships that were recently shipwrecked.

The sails hung loose in the wind, the soft breeze fluttering and puffing them up and sending rippled through their surface. One of the wooden beams in the middle that supported a small crow's nest was cracked and hanging off to the side, supported only by ropes that have seen better days. A piece of cloth, a flag of unknown origin was still hanging loosely from atop said beam, fluttering in the wind. It's colors White, with a pair of red and blue animals that the Merdhrai couldn't tell the origin of holding what seemed like sticks. The details on it were intricate, but the weather has worn out the colors and made them bleed into the white of the background a bit.

Approaching further to the wreck, the Merdhrai could see that the hull had been cracked open at the bottom where the ship hit the rocks, but despite the high waves that sometimes splashed against it, it seemed like the wreck wasn't intent on moving from it's final resting place. Smashed pieces of wood and a few barrels floated in the water the opening, the inside dark and shielded from the outside world.

On the inside the ship was dank with the smell of weathered wood and wet fur. Crates and barells, some still sealed, laid strewn about what seemed like the cargo hold of the ship. A ladder leading up to the surface was still attached to the beam in the middle, a trapdoor in the middle leading up to the the deck, while another trapdoor lead down into what seemed like a compartment below the one they were in, but the door seemed stuck at first glance, perhaps indicating that the compartment below was not yet flooded. Up on the deck, a few buckets and spare ropes laid in the far corner, caught by the railing of the ship. Seagulls watched intently from the railings and other elevated positions, flocks of them already claiming the wreck as their home. The craftsmanship here was even more clear than before, the angles of the carved wood and the thickness of beams and logs showing the Merdhrai a glimpse of what can be possible. On the far end of the ship, sitting slightly above that water level was what seemed like a cabin that was still not submerged.

Inside the Merdhrai could find ornate furniture, maps that have been soaked and faded by the water that rushed in through the broken windows with every tide, as well as a few personal belongings that seemed to have been left behind. It was clear that whoever was on this ship had left in a haste, a moldy plate of food still laying on a platter that was kept in place on a cabinet, whilst various other instruments the Merdhrai couldn't identify were on the walls and cabinets that laid the walls. A few books and notes were thrown about the floor of the currently dry cabin, but whatever their ink once held had been washed away by rising tides. Signs of struggle were visible upon closer investigation, a few scratch and cut marks visible on the large wooden desk sitting in the middle of the cabin.

It was a treasure trove of knowledge and discovery, even if a lot has already been lost to the elements. But perhaps the biggest mystery was one that the wood and cloth could not make up for: the seemingly missing occupants of the ship that were nowhere to be found. Perhaps the only clue as to what this ship was here for, where it came from and who used it. All questions the Merdhrai would have to answer on their own with time...

@Pagemaster