[IC] Civilization - A New End (2.5)

[Asura]

She had been next in line. The heir apparent, set to assume her mother's throne once the old bat had finally succumb to the millennia. It had all gone according to plan; one by one, tragedy by tragedy, her siblings had fallen until she, a mere fifth born daughter, was next to be Archoness of a grand kingdom of proud elven conquerors. Now what was she? The illustrious Aurelia Yllithian, an exile left to drift these damnable seas with what loyal retainers she could gather while hellfire consumed the great black spires of her beloved homeland. What horrors befell mighty Faelron she could not know; some among the ship's inhabitants claimed the Dark One herself had grown unsatisfied with them, the contentedness of her mother's rule, the decadence of success. Spiteful as she was mercurial, they said the great goddess plunged the entire city into ruin as punishment.

Perhaps it would have been more merciful to have accepted that fate, and perished with the city state she called home. It would've saved her from this fate; sailing blindly in the hold of a great cog in the hopes of finding land again, the horrible winds caused by the inferno having sent them farther into the ocean than the navigator had any means of knowing. Provisions were beginning to run low, so long had they sailed, and the withering of the poor fools who had followed Aurelia was apparent to the noble whenever she ceased brooding long enough to leave the captain's cabin. Men, women and children would soon starve within this wooden prison, and nary a thing was there she could do to stop it.

Perhaps it was best to end things now. Before rations were so low that she needed sip common liquor instead of the fine casks of wine she had insisted be loaded up. A few drops of poison and a final cup, a fitting fate for one who had condemned so many of her kin to a similar fate. She was sure Drazhar would understand her decision, perhaps even join her in death. He was always so sentimental like that...

Ruminations of suicide soon turned to surprise, as chaos consumed the deck outside. Shouting, clattering, had they mutineed against her already? Rising from the finery of her chair, Aurelia had scarce the time to reach for a makeshift club in the form of a candle holder before the door flung open, and she flung it at the dark figure within the frame, though expert reflexes saw the attack swatted aside with very little effort. She was thankful regardless, for it was none other than her 'beloved', Drazhar who had so thoughtfully charged in, a warrior among warriors who one day was meant to sit beside her as Archon of Faelron. It would've been bad to injure that pretty face.

"They've spotted land, far on the horizon. The men have already begun navigating its way, come, you must see." If he was annoyed by the candle holder, the highborn elf showed little of it as he disappeared once again, leaving the cacophony on deck to drift through an open door. Land... Land! They'd found something, hope at last, a chance of survival at last!

A chance at once again becoming an Archoness, at last...

[Chenzor]

Turn 6

The Map

The Iceborn

@Cyclone

Turn 6

The pallisades are quickly repaired after the initial celebration, leaving the workforce ample time to construct the barrow for the fallen with care. They trampled a small path through the grasslands to a lonely hill that they made bigger, and decorated the path with stones that they carved out into lantern-like objects. The barrow itself was walled by stone and had two sets of archways into the mound. On top of it, the iceborn women gathered the prettiest flowers from the vecinity and placed them in the grass, meaning in time the mound would be covered in white and blue flowers each spring.

The Barrow

Initially, some had been struck with disbelief when Sigdar had refused the kingship. They grumbled when they left the feast, in the opposite direction of where Sigdar took his new disciples. Dag watched them from afar, worried. Sigdar's refusal had calmed most who would rather see him on the throne, but it was clear this was just the beginning of what could be a challenge to Dag's rule.

The burning of the Deep Ones creates a big pillar of smoke that stretches long into the sky, until far above their heads the windy cloudless skies catch it and bring it eastward. For some reason, Dag felt a sharp sense of worry in his stomach suddenly as he watched the smoke. Was this truly the last they had seen of the Deep Ones? Would they persevere once more if they came again?

-

Deep in the woods, Sigdar took his new disciples. Very few words had been spoken as most were either fearful or awestruck by the First Chosen. They followed along quietly, perhaps in deep contemplation about what is to come and what Sigdar truly is now. At long last, they came to the clearing where the thick brush and green turned into a black crater of nothingness. In the middle of the crater was a small blasted rock, perhaps a piece of what used to be the runestone. A small whisp of smoke still lingered on it, in testament to the fierce destruction that had actually struck this place.
"This is where I became Kjorn's chosen." said Sigdar. "We shall train here, and I shall mold you into warriors of Kjorn. If you are worthy, perhaps you too shall be granted his mark."
He turned around. The other warriors looked back at him with determination.
Before they could answer him however, a rustle of leaves was heard not far away, at the edge of the crater. Suddenly, a band of elves came out of the brushes from the west. They looked like simple scouts or rangers, with bows and shortswords, and they looked equally surprised to see the Iceborn as the Iceborn were to see them. However, the Iceborn were all dressed as if going to battle, with mighty weapons and round shields, some having even painted their faces in Kjorn's honor.
Then there was movement in the other corner of Sigdar's eye. On the southern end of the crater, three giant humanoid creatures wearing pelts and bony daggers came out from the trees. They spotted Sigdar, and their eyes widened, but they were too far away to say anything. It seemed, they did not mind the sight of the elves as much, if even at all.
As if that wasn't enough, yet another band of creatures came through the brush, this time from the eastern end of where the charred ground meets the green... Goblins! They looked just like the gilbin thralls back home, only their skin was green and their apparel less primitive, and they wielded crossbows of greater technological endeavor that the gilbins had seemed capable of. Just as Sigdar was about to adress the elves nearby, two more parties entered the charred grove, from the north-east and south-east respectively, flanking the green-skinned Goblins.
In the north-east corner came red-skinned trolls, large humanoids with hunched backs and great tusks sticking out from their mouths. They were painted for war and carried spears or axes of bronze with shields made from wood. They had little in the ways of armor, but their skin looked tough. They weren't far from the Iceborn's current position, seeing as they had entered the grove from the north.
In the south-eastern corner, another band of elves had appearned, but their eyes were white in hue and glow, and their skin dark gray, almost black. They were dressed much like the other elves, but in their own colors such as black, brown and white. Most of them wielded bow and arrow with a shortsword at their side, but their leader had a greatsword strapped to his back. Sigdar couldn't see it very well from the opposite side of the crater, but it looked masterfully crafted.

What will the Iceborn do now...?

Overview of the Grove

[Warriors lost from the battle against the deep ones: 65. Adjusting population.]

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: 234 men, 254 women, 68 children.

- 155 Goblin Thralls

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, +2% from morale = 8%.
Morale: Very High
Foreign relations:

- Children of Artemon: Neutral
- Deep Ones: Hated

The Antari

@Murtox No post found. 1/3.

Turn 3

The scouts ventured outward into the surrounding region and found seemingly abundant wildlife. To the north the terrain was mostly open with a river cutting through the grasslands. With only a few trees and forestated areas to protect them, the animals here were mostly small like rabbit, deer, beaver and the occasional fox or other lesser predator. The river was full of fish however, and near the streams where the samon jumped up the small falls, bears could be found waiting for an easy snack. In the mountains close to Pachacamac, the scouts found mountain goats and great rams that seemed a good choice for domestication indeed, but they were such adequate climbers that they simply eluded the scouts wherever they found them.
To the west, the scouts dared not venture too deep into the unknown forest but they noted a few brown bears near the outskirts. They must live north and west of the river that cuts through the grasslands, and in the forest they found elk and moose.
Lastly, to the east, the scouts were chased out of the mirky woods by packs of wolves, more brown bears and territorially aggressive moose and elk, even reindeer. Why had the wildlife grown so hostile to the east, and not the west, the scouts wondered.
Oh, and boars. Boars were pretty much everywhere, in the grasslands, near the slopes of the hills before the mountains and the woods to the east and west.

Rano Rancor looked at his new invention. Not bad, he thought, but not a masterpiece either. He held up the crude crossbow in his hands and aimed at the target he had set up in his workshop at the opposite side of the wall. He aimed, placed the sights at the bullseye, and fired. THWOP, THUNK... The bolt hit slightly off target. No matter, he thought. Nothing that a simple adjustment can't fix.
He barely had time to finish his thought before Amari Asto himself, accompanied by a few advisors including Manco, came to his workshop to check on his progress.

"Well sire, I do believe I have a good enough prototype ready but I was just about to make some final adjustments. Would you like to try it? It's quite easy to use." he said, quickly showed Amari Asto how to properly aim and fire, and off went the bolt toward the target.
Still slightly off... Hm. Oh well. It was still a strong invention, and on par with the lizardmen's own contraptions. But would Amari Asto be pleased enough with his endeavor?

-

An expedition was formed. If the supposed human tribe to the south could be contacted, the Antari thought they might be allies against the lizardmen. They trained themselves, supplied themselves and finally set off toward their destination, given to them by their captive lizard, so many were uncertain of the accuracy of this intelligence. Still, they had a mission to complete and they would see it through for their people, their family and friends and their ruler. (Is Amari Asto a king?)

It occured to them once they had exited the guarded pass however that... Well, they can't just simply stroll by the lizardmen camp. They might be spotted, attacked and eaten or worse, in that order.
They came up with a few alternatives, and the man or woman who had been named expedition leader considered their options. They could either...
A) Stroll straight south, hoping to avoid the lizardmen in the mountains while they take the most direct route toward their destination.
B) Go further west around the great lake, to (hopefully) avoid the lizardmen but to complete their task at a slower rate.
C) Get as far away from the lizardmen as possible westward to completely avoid them and safely get to their destination, but cost them a lot of extra time.
D) Southeast! Of course! Obviously the mountains can't go on forever, maybe there's an easy way to the humans by going around the lizardmen no their east side.

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: 213 men, 210 women, 56 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:

- Lizardmen of Ves'Tuk: Hostile

The Children of Artemon

@Pirate

Turn 5

As the light hit the fields of green one morning, many elves awoke with a feeling of newfound security. The pallisade that they had constructed around their settlement had been completed last night, and while most farms couldn't possibly be included in the pallisade, the entire village center was now protected from outside forces.

Five elven warriors were sent to guard the caves, and a band of miners (most being elven volunteers who had trouble finding any other suitable occupation) went with them to begin their efforts. With them was an experienced prospector, who immediately went to work in identifying the strange new mineral, silversteel. No regular tools could extract the ores from the rock walls, so while the prospector attempted to find a way to mine the precious and obviously powerful new mineral, the iron and silver had to be enough. Indeed, it was more than enough. In the span of a few weeks the Children of Artemon went from completely metal-less to having a source of both iron and silver from which to craft new tools, weapons, idols and cosmetics. For now, the silver was mostly processed to be used as wealth seeing as there was now a higher influx of silver than the elves could decide what to do with. It was by no means a monumental amount, but they'd have to decide what they actually wanted to use their silver for.

-

The scouts had arrived at their destination. They could feel it in the air, their sharpened elven senses urging caution. They came to a large forest and once they found a walkable path they made their way deep into it, and quickly. Before long, the elves could see a clearing up ahead, perhaps a grove or a glade. Once they stepped out from the cover of the trees and the bush however, they came to realize they were standing before a massive crater in the earth, blackened and charred with the dirt and vegetation having turned to ash. This must have been what Craftpriest Aleon wanted them to fill the pouch with, and this was indeed the goal of their journey. This is where the great lightningbolt fell, and split the land asunder. Was this the work of some God? An immensely powerful wizard? Or something else?

As they stepped further out from the trees however, they realized they weren't alone. To their left, on the north edge of the glade stood a band of humans, armed with shields, axes, spears, and seemingly dressed for war. The elves in comparison were dressed for travel, with shortswords and bows. These were the same humans that had sailed up the river, the elves realized, but something was different about them. Their leader, a beast of a man far above six feet tall, had menacing tattoos all over his body in pagan fashion akin to his culture, and his great axe was adorned with the same runes that covered his body. Some of the warriors were warpainted. The scouts grew nervous, but the humans seemed equally surprised to see them here, and did not draw their weapons just yet. Perhaps they could be reasoned with--

The leaves rustled far to the elves' right flank.

Drawing a sigh of relief, they saw it was their Giant allies from the south (and west from here) who had come to, probably, also see what had been left of the giant lightningbolt. They nodded to you, and you nod back, your friendship established. The giants see the humans, but do not seem alarmed. Then they look straight across the crater to the north-east... It seems more parties emerge into the grove.

To the east, a band of goblins emerge from the underbrush with spears and crossbows. They seem aghast at the sight of the humans, and confused at the sight of elves and giants, but even more aghast when two more parties enter the crater-grove to each of their flanks. To the north-east, a band of savage red-skinned trolls emerge with axes, clubs and wicked daggers. Some even wield spear and shield. They seem out for blood, or at least aggressive.
To the south-east, straight across from you, emerge a party of dark-elves..! They spot you but make no move, no sign of surprise and no greeting. They simply observe the multitude of peoples that have emerged before them to the crater, but your scouts guess that they are not in a position to make battle due to them being dressed much like yourselves - shortswords, bows, light clothing for travel.

What will happen in the grove...?

Overview of the Grove

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: 162 men, 165 women, 56 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.), iron, silver.
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade:

Imports: Raw leather and animal goods from Giant Camp.
Exports: Processed leather goods to Giant Camp.

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

- Bonesnapper Tribe: Hated
- Giant Camp: Friendly
- Lothelonni: [Assimilated]
- Iceborn: Neutral

Clan Oreborn

@Kangutso No post found. Turn: 1/3

Turn 4

A goldenbeard explorer sat on a rock, resting after his recent voygages. He had been tasked, along with his group, of finding animals nearby that could perhaps be tamed or domesticated. It was a tale he'd be telling over a pint of ale for many years to come.

Hours earlier...
The beast whirled, almost knocking the dwarves over by the sheer gust of wind. It was bulky, giant and had huge tusks but its' legs were short and sprinty so it couldn't strike at all of them at once.
When it snapped back to fight off one of the dwarves, another stabbed at it with his spear. Eventually they managed to tire it enough that it collapsed on the ground. Everyone drew a sigh of relief. The beast was in fact a boar, but calling it a boar was a gross understatement from its' immense size. It was like a rhino, or a mammoth if there were any in this world. How they would tame or domesticate such a giant pig, they had no idea and so they left the beast to recover on the ground. Much to their shock and awe, and indeed horror, as soon as they turned around the beast lept up again and charged at them. In a strange turn of events, Gorgh the lead scout was flung up in the air, harmlessly landed on the beast's neck and gave it a good whack with his fist. The beast stopped dead in it's tracks, throwing Gorgh off to land in front of it, and when everone thought the beast would devour him whole or trample him to death, the darn thing licked him. It suddenly became like a lost puppy who found a new mother - so docile and gentle. The entire scouting group rode on the back of the giant boar back to the clan's lower settlement where they initially scared the living hell out of the villagers, but later managed to convince them the beast was harmless. Mostly.
Now, Gorgh and his dwarves had been tasked with finding more of the beasts to domesticate and bring back. Oh woe is me, Gorgh said and fell asleep on a rock.

Back home, the smithy and the few Ironbeards available had started working on crossbows for the military. The woodworkers were soon brought into the project and eventually, a steady workflow was created. They would continue their work until told to stop or until materials ran out.

-

Echadon and his companions of 8 were sent to the Ursar, who welcomed them warmly but would not let them pass into the settlement center just yet. It seems some sort of celebration or ritual was under way and while the dwarves were welcomed in, they were not allowed to participate.
After a moment of waiting in the large tent that has become the sort-of embassy for whenever the dwarves visit, an Ursar you have never met before enters the tent. He is old and venerable and speaks slow in a croaky voice. Barely did you even have to ask them about the strange storm, for they told of the omen their God had given them. They revere a God called Khoros who is their God of strength, blood and honor. The storm was to them Khoros leaving his mark upon the world. They said very soon, Warriors of Khoros shall come to call upon all true followers for the final war for the world itself.

If you believe them... Well, that's up to you.

[City completed in: 4-6 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: 174 men, 170women, 64 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.

The Lycan Covenant

@Pyromaniacwolf

Turn 3

As night finally fell after the bright of day, heavy clouds swept in from the west and covered the moon and the stars. Under the cover of this utter darkness, Grash Bloodfang and his warriors gathered on a hill. The Ogre patrol that had been sent to seize this week's slaves, resources and other wealth had been delayed and couldn't leave before nightfall. Yet they were anxious not to stay in the lycan village overnight and decided to set out despite the great dark of night.
What a mistake that had been.
Basir had managed to gain much support from the oppressed lycan population who gladly gave away whatever tools or weapons they had for Goldtooth to modify into new weapons for the cause. The Bloodfang warriors were now armed with new weaponry, ready to bash Ogre skulls.

Mex Silentpaw had mapped out the Ogre patrols perfectly for months now and had managed to create a distraction for the ogres leaving the village tonight. She made sure they couldn't leave before nightfall without arousing any suspicion by saboutaging their wagon and fabricating some logistical issues in the roundup of lycan prisoners. The Ogres had thought the wagon wheel had just rusted, and ordered the lycan smiths to hand them new bolts for it, but the crafty Goldtooth smiths simply lied and said they had none, but would of course supply their overlords with fresh new ones from their forges... Not that they had much in the ways of resources for a lot of things, but a few bolts they managed to scrape together just in time for the Ogres to be satisfied. Early enough that they'd still want to leave, but late enough so that nightfall could sweep over them.

Vlath and his newly recruited Mouths of the Voidcaller (as he had named his new priesthood) had managed to not only openly boost morale and ignite a spark of fury back into the lycan population, but they had also managed to infiltrate the prison train. In fact, all the prisoners taken by the ogres were either Mouths of the Voidcaller themselves, or fresh converts eagre to spill Ogre blood.

With the darkness sweeping in, warriors ready on a hill outside of the village armed with new weapons, and infiltrators ready to spring the trap from within the prisoner train, the trap was set and armed for the Ogres. Now they need only wait for the trap to be sprung.

Vlath walked down the narrow road that the ogres had made connecting their warcamp to the lycan village. When he spotted the patrol torches in the distance, he stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the road and waited. A cowl covered his face and long black robes covered the rest of his body. On the hill on the north side of the road waited Bloodfang and his warriors in ambush, ready to pounce from the ditches and charge down from the hill. Vlath needed only to wait until the Ogres spotted him, which wouldn't happen until they were mere yards in front of him.
Slowly the patrol, numbering 20 ogre soldiers and three wagons, one with resources and tribute from the lycans, the other with 10 lycan prisoners (all in actuality infiltrators) and the third was a boxed wagon with three heavy locks. The lycans had no idea what was in it, but it must be something important if they locked it with three heavy locks and chains.
Vlath could sense a darkness from it, but it did not alarm him. He wasn't concerned with whatever was locked in the wagon, so he did not realize the three wagons that had entered the village had all been empty on arrival, so whatever was locked into the third one was acquired on site.

The ogres were upon him now. They halted, astonished, and raised their torches in alarm. "Who goes there?!" the pointman said. "Bah, just another lycan scum. Begone, whelp. Go back to your village, and get out of our way."
Vlath felt rage well up inside of him. Bloodfang's warriors and the infiltrators waited for their signal.
"Let it be known that from this day, the Lycan Covenant retake our sovereignty and drive out our oppressors. We shall mount Ogre heads on pikes for miles, and for each fallen or taken Lycan we shall kill a hundred Ogres! And when the deed is done, and your race is brought low - your survivors will join us under the Void Gods and repent, for we will use them as servants to our Gods and sacrifices to their glory!"
As his speach went on, his tone grew louder. At the end, he gave a fierce howl and threw off his robes, his tattoos flaring up with Void Magic. His strength grew and he dug his claws into the ogre on point's face. He screamed in agony as his life-force was sucked from his body, and while Bloodfang's warriors charged down from the hill and up from the ditches, the Ogre's body fell to the ground, nothing left but a hollow husk, but Vlath was empowered. He had tasted death and been blessed by it. The ogres would die tonight, he thought.

-

Vlath was glad to know that his powers granted by his Gods were still there. They may not have answered his most recent prayers or efforts to contact them, but their power was still undeniable. He had not lost a single shred of faith despite their silence.
He watched as a sole Ogre survivor ran from the ambush toward the Ogre encampment. "Let him go." Vlath ordered. "He shall tell his people of what is to come. They will dread the day they declared war on the Covenant."

Only one lycan had been killed and another two wounded in the ambush, while 19 out of the 20 Ogres escorting the wagons lay dead or dying on the ground. The Bloodfangs had charged down the hill, hit the prison wagon hard and freed the Lycan convert-infiltrators, who had bolstered the Bloodfang ranks and turned on the Ogres in seconds. It had been a bloodbath, and this week's tribute was now back in Lycan hands.

One of the Mouths of the Voidcaller approached Vlath.
"The ogres lie dead or dying under our wrath. Shall we bring them back and sacrifice them?" he said, bluntly.
Was that what Vlath intended?

A) Yes, bring the wounded ogres back to the settlement and have them sacrificed to the Void Gods!
B) No, throw them like filth into the ditches and let them die. Their blood is unfit for our masters.
C) Sacrifice them on the spot with less of a ceremony but no chance of any of them dying before they reach the sacrificial altar back home.

And then there was the wagons... While one was now empty and another was filled of tribute that was obviously going back to the village, the third was still a mystery. Locked under three heavy locks and chains, no conventional weapon could tear it open by force. Either the Lycans could leave it there and discard it, or they could bring it back home and attempt to open it somehow.
Whatever their choice, there is still the matter of the Ogres still being a threat. There are more patrols to ambush around the region, but they'll be smallfry compared to this one. The main Ogre force from the War Encampment is what is concerning. They beat the Lycans once... Could they do so again? If the Lycans are to win this time they have to prepare their next moves carefully.

[Silentpaw's mission to gather intel for the next 2 turns cancelled.]

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, 135 women, 24 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, = 5%.
Morale: Rallying
Foreign relations:

- Durgal's Horde: Hated

The Orc-Grave Swamp Enclave

@Bright_Ops

Turn 5

Deep into the wilderlands the group of scouts went. They were armed with crossbows and equipped lightly to allow for good travel, and their recent acclimation to the harsh environments around the swamps and mountains had made them very capable pathfinders and danger-avoiders. Initially, they were going to travel west to find their blackskinned kin, but they were forced to stop suddenly.
There, up ahead by a few rocks and a thick oak tree, a few large red-skinned trolls were resting. They had just caught a boar and was roasting it over an open fire. They outnumbered the goblins greatly, and if push came to shove, the lead scout feared they would be quickly overtaken. Luckily for them, they had the advantage of stealth and the necessary skills to put their advantage to use. They easily avoided the trolls by travelling south and around them.

But... Where... What is this place? The forests grew thicker and while they had no trouble finding able paths, they couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't heading the right way. It was like the trees themselves were herding the goblins to wherever they wanted them to go.
Before long they spotted a clearing however, and it seemed they were on a hill or higher ground, because they could see the ground sloping up ahead. Oh boy how wrong they were. As they made their way out into the clearing, they realized it wasn't a clearing at all but a huge black charred crater in the middle of the woods! This must have been where the giant lightningbolt struck, the lands had been split open like a nut by a maul and pieces of charred wood and black rocks still lay scattered around the blastsite. But that wasn't even the worst part! On the other side of the crater, at the far end of the grove stood a large band of twenty-something battle-dressed human warriors! They looked exactly like the blackskinned goblins back home had described their opressors! Next to them just a few paces away stood a band of elves, with bows and swords and all! As if that wasn't enough, further away still to the left stood three huge humans-or-something that the lead scout could only describe as gargantuans! They looked fierce but were primitively dressed and--

A rustle in the leaves. To the right..? No, left! No... Both!!

To the goblins' left, a band of Dark Elves emerged with bows and swords just like the light-skinned elves at the far end of the grove! They looked calm and analyzing, but were armed and seemed capable nonetheless! To make matters worse, the band of trolls that they had evaded earlier were the cause of the rustling of leaves to their right! Surrounded on all sides by possible or definite enemies, what would the goblin scouting party do? Would there be a big battle of many different peoples, or would this be the meeting-point for future friends and enemies?

Overview of the Grove

-

Gredy was worried about Spunky. She had a reputation for living up to her given name, but was also known to be unpredictable and fiery. With such a temper, Gredy did well to ask her friends to keep an eye on her. They agreed, but pointed out that if Spunky decided on some brash course of action, they could to little to stop her. At least this way, Gredy might know of it before something bad happens... Argh, the game of love simply is too much of a chore sometimes.

Gredy and Trip sat down and had their chat later that day. Trip scratched his chin in thought. Then his brow. Then his cheek. Then the top of his head. Then his back, and oh where was he? Ah, yes, food. He said he wasn't much of an expert of food, but they used to cultivate certain kinds of fast-growing fungi in the gloom of their caves before. He was sure they could recreate the effort if only they had one of those mushrooms to start out with. Or perhaps there were some kind of fungi around here that could be used? The swamp had lots of them, after all, edible and not.
They decided to ask Buddy about it, since he was already at work with creating poisons from the swamp, some of them being from the fungi of the wetlands below.

"Err... I dunno, I don't exactly have an extensive catalogue of the local flora and fauna yet, but I can tell you what I know so far." he had said, and given Gredy and Trip his notebook of flora that he had discovered and what he knew about them. Which ones were poisonous, edible, where he found them, what animals usually ate them and so on. With this, Trip was able to accurately point out which ones he was familiar with and which might work.
Now, they needed only to experiment a bit... Find out which ones would grow well and not.

[Buddy is hard at work with his alchemy and poisons, while Trip and Gredy try out different fungi to be cultivated in the caves as a kind of goblin farming. Results may vary...]
[Food level settled at average.]

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: 236 men, 239 women, 75 children.

(54 of adult population is of Blackskin Goblin descent)

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

Clan Metalbeard

@Lauder

Turn 4

A semi-official military force is what some would call the group of warriors that were sent north to gain experience and knowledge of the lands, but others would call them a rag-tag bunch of adventurers or duelists. Whatever the commonfolk called them, they were the best warriors that the Clan had to offer and they were under official orders from the council after all.

Despite their uneasy feeling, the group's morale was boosted once they realized that Blackhand's own son and heir was among them. Not only was he a respected albeit young dwarf, but he had proven to be one of the strongest duelists in all the Glimmering Mountain, which was quite a feat of strength. They set out with hammer, greatsword, sword and shield and of course whatever supplies and items they could bring. They journeyed north, away from the cold winds that seemed to have begun blowing south of the mountains and into the more temperate breezes that was the center of the continent.

After a few days, they came upon a small woodland area in the middle of the vast grassy fields. Further away to the west they could see a mountain, much smaller than their own, stretch into the sky.
"Good, some shelter. We'll set up camp here for the night." said Grogrim as the group came up to the woodline.
Ava's eyes lingered on the mountain however. She had a funny feeling about it, and she wasn't sure if it was a good one or a bad one.
"Oi, lads. See that mountain?" she called to the others.
"Aye we see it. What about?" said Forogh Gloombelly. His family was well respected but... Their ancient name was quite the laughing stock of the other families. This had made Forogh quite a cynical and ill-tempered, often rude, dwarf.
"I've a feelin' 'bout it. In me gut." said Ava, still staring at the mountain.
"So Ava Shieldbreaker's gut 'ave a feelin'? Should we be worried?" asked Forogh ironically. A few of the other dwarves chuckled, but Forogh continued.
"Ye met a handsome dwarf man to put somethin' in ye belly?" he teased. The others went silent. They knew better than to tease Ava Shieldbreaker about men and, spirits forbid, pregnancies.
But much to everyone's surprise, Ava did not retort. It was as if she hadn't heard him. She just kept staring at the mountain in the distance, as the others got a campfire ready and exchanged worried glances.
Finally, Grogrim came up to here. "Ava." he said softly, and put his hand on her shoulder. This gest seemed to snap her out of it. She turned to him. "There's something up there, Grogrim. I... I think it calls me." she said.
Grogrim was then faced with a decision. Was he to encourage Ava to seek out whatever was calling to her? If it was the metal spirits, or the ancestors speaking to her, they must not refuse them, but what if it was some dark entity that lured her there?
Was he to send Ava by herself to the mountain, or would he take a detour and stroll everyone up the mountain? Their mission was to explore the north after all, and if an enemy lurked among the cliffs and rocks, then bringing back it's head would be a worthy completion of their task.

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: 99 men, 98 women, 27 children.
Military: No standing military. 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 +1% from morale = 4%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

The Elven Enclave

@ArisenMoon No post found. Auto dropout: 1/3

Turn 5

With the elves' magic not working, manual foodproduction had to be expanded upon. However, rumours had spread fast and now everyone knew of the spear Saleian had brought back to the settlement. While not many knew of the whole undead deal, elves began noticing Saleian's worry after he ordered new warriors be trained and all expeditions be guarded at all times by no less than three elves-at-arms. Some had begun to think Saleian was just paranoid, seeing as they didn't know he suspected undead foes may lurk somewhere.

[Food level settled at Average.]

The pathfinders that were sent to find the source of the spear went to the place where the wilder drake had been found. It was no longer there, and where its' blood had been spilled was now a patch of verdant green grass with flowers of many colors. The beast's blood had fertilized the soil of the earth to an extraordinary level. They travelled further west, where the grass became less green. First it became yellow like fields of grass often do, but then it became gray and scarred. It seemed the further west they travelled, the less wildlife they encountered. They prepared for the worst, but nothing happened. Suddenly, an elf foot stepped on something. It cracked and broke, and when the elf looked on his foot he saw that he had stepped on a bone. The entire party stopped and looked around. They all spotted the dead in the grass. Skeletons of warriors long dead, barely even dust left. If these were undead, they would pose no threat, for they all missed important parts to be able to move. Their armor and weaponry however was strange and foreign to the elves. They had never seen it before. The bones were those of dead humans, but the elves had never met a culture like this. Strange.

The dead warriors' armor

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: 98 men, 101 women, 22 children.
Military: 5 Elves-at-arms. Currently training 10 recruits. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: Average
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 4% +0% from food level, +0% from morale = 4%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

Dominion of Commorragh

@Asura

Turn 1

(Written by courtesy of Cyclone)
As the weathered cog neared the shore, there was suddenly a horrific scrape. The wine-dark waves had concealed jagged rocks below. By such bad fortune, the ship's underbelly was breached and it began to take on water. There was no choice now, the dark elves would have to make their landing on the shore here.

To protect what remained of the cargo, the sailors brought the ship through the rocks and eventually beached it. There was no chance at making it seaworthy again anytime soon, but at least it was now in shallow enough water to not become submerged in at high tide. In short order the supplies in the lower hold were brought up to the deck or onto the beach, waterlogged but mostly still usable. As in for the ruined cog itself, it retained some use: it could make for a good starting shelter before structures could be built on the land, or perhaps a fine source of firewood.

A noble stepped up to Aurelia's side, one of the few that stayed faithful to her rule. In all the chaos that had just unfolded he had slipped from the Archoness' mind, but now she remembered that he had came to advise her. Who was he, again?

A) Commander Modyn, a fine warrior who could rival Drezhar in personal combat yet surpass him and all others as a military tactician. In the past Modyn's retinue saw countless victories against the barbarians and rebels, and whilst little of it survived the fall, given time Modyn could build a new force just as formidable.

B) Apothecary Garan, a sharp scholar with a dozen treatises to his name and extensive knowledge of herbalism, medical procedures, and even some forms of magic. His talents would be useful for any growing colony, not to mention his sage counsel.

C) Tivam the Shadowmage, more a rogue than traditional sorcerer. He used his talents to serve the nation as an assassin, tracker, spy, and ranger; however, there were always those that suspected him of being a criminal mastermind that only served in name. A few such whisperers went missing.

Upon closer examination, there are some signs of activity upon the island. The beach has a few pieces of flotsam that were not natural, and there are some signs of hunting and logging taking place in limited amounts at some point in the past. All this points to the possibility of civilization somewhere up or down the shoreline, or perhaps on a nearby island. Some voices are eager to explore the surroundings, but there are other initial actions that could be taken.

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, 30 children.
Livestock: None.
Military: No standing military. 30% of population can be drafted as militia.
Food level: Minimal
Resources: None
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 4% -2% from food level, +0% from morale = 2%.
Morale: Average
Foreign relations:

- You know of no other civilization.

[Cyclone]

The Iceborn

---

X) Pray to Gods

Dag and the tribe all harbored dreams of sailing a great fleet up every river and along every beach of this new land, but the forlorn barrow and the rising smoke of burning Deep Ones denied them the chance. There could be no exploration and no settling of new lands until the tribe's enemies were slain and the ocean was safe once more.

The king did not know what the Deep Ones were or from whence they came, and neither did any of the elders. For that matter, Kjorn had not bestowed such wisdom upon Sigdar. So they had no choice but to turn to the holy men, who then turned to Father Frost. Before a stark and weathered tree that had been dedicated as a shrine to the wiser of their patron gods, a man named Halvar chanted to the sky.

"O great Father Frost, our lord whose breath is long winter, witness the smoke of the beasts that we burn in your name! Your faithful request but one favor from ye: reveal to us the lair from whence these foul creatures come, and we will be the icy lance that scours the hellspawn from the world and smites them in your blessed name."

Iceborn

-The Iceborn don't know where the Deep Ones come from, so after burning all those murlocs as sacrifices they pray to Father Frost and ask him where they can go to kill the rest of the Deep Ones.

[Bright_Ops]

The Orc-Grave Swamp Enclave

Now armed with a working knowledge from both the Black skinned goblins and Buddy's own research into the matter, Gredy left Buddy to continue his research as he started to organize parties to go out into the swamp in order to gather samples of the most promising types of fungi in order to try cultivating them in the caves that were being dug out.

Hopefully at least one of them would take to being farmed properly.

..........................................

At the Outpost, a discussion between to of the Grove Keepers had resulted in something of a debate in relation to the 'whispers' that some of the goblins had been hearing since they had first arrived. One claimed that the voices that were on the edge of hearing were the voices of the goblins that had died and become one with the swamp to try and guide their people from beyond the grave. The other argued that it was in fact the Swamp itself that was attempting to communicate with them, trying to find a way to peacefully co-exist with the Conclave when it was made clear that they wouldn't be driven off or wiped out.

Both goblins made strong points for their cause, but despite how loud the debate got at times the two never came to blows. Instead they traveled to opposite sides of the Outpost, making their arguments to any who would listen.

Summery

Buddy is left to continue his research while Gredy organizes attempts at gathering promising fungi in order to try farming them to add a stable food supply to the Conclave.

At the Outpost, discussions about the nature of the whispers some of the goblins have been hearing in the swamp seem to have split between two major camps; The group that thinks the voices are from their ancestors trying to guide them from beyond the grave and the Group that believes it is the voice of the swamp itself.

[Brithwyr]

Tuatha de Cu

Normally meeting with the druids was a task.

Normally meetings with the druids ended in frustration and shouting.

But this hadn't been a normal meeting. In fact, as the Council announced their decision, the Brehin could hardly believe it. A unanimous decision. A unanimous decision is his favour. That was easily one of the last things he expected when he woke up this morning. But there it was - 6 Ayes, 0 Nays.

"The signs are all there, my Lord. Your time has come" one of the druids tried to tell him

"Indeed. The spirits are with you. We cannot stay like this anymore"

The Brehin tried to pick his jaw up off the floor. "W-well, I... I just thought that..."

"I know we have disagreed in the past, my liege, but we are but humble interpreters of the Spirits will. This is what they want, after all"

Yes, of course. The spirits. He had the spirits blessing? Yes, don't be stupid, that's what they just said.
"Th-thank you, gentlemen. I... I hope I don't let you down"

"You won't, my Lord. The spirits have revealed this to us."

It had been the Brehin's call to end isolation. For the first time, the Cait Sith, the faithful children of Cu, would venture forth and greet the outside world. What would be out there, he wondered, as he dismissed the Druids. Friends? Enemies? Monsters? Treasure? There was only one way to find out...

Summary

A new age is beginning in the Tuatha de Cu. For the first time, the Druids have given the Brehin their blessing to begin interacting with figures outside the jungle.

[Lauder]

Clan Metalbeard

G) Prospect the land

---

It was a tough decision to go off mission to some spirit forsaken land, but Ava was rarely wrong when it came to her “feelings”. It was a strange request but it could be something far more worthwhile than some simple head, especially if the spirits were calling for them. “We march for the mountain, if there is anything there then we can’t ignore it,” Grogrim stated, he was the leader and the others would have to go along with him.

---

Back home, the people continued about their lives, unknowing that something far bigger may be happening. Moreover they were prospering more and more as they continued to grow once more. In fact, they had reached a point where it was time to reopen the mine officially and bring metal back into circulation for good, rather than melt down ancient equipment for repurposed use. Dwarves took up the picks and went to work, prospecting the land for new material that would be needed to smelt new weapons and armor.

It was time to begin pleasing the spirits trapped in the mountain, to melt them down and transfer them into fine new forms that they might appreciate more. These forms will bring upon blessings to further the Metalbeards as a whole clan for their reverence and loyalty to the ways of the metal spirits.

“It is time for our reverence to begin once more! The metal must be appeased and so they shall! If we are to succeed then we will construct and a great cathedral and it will be a wonder of the world!”

The voice of the king rang, words clearly influenced by the great priest that constantly acted as advisor to him. Marum smiled greatly, knowing that the spirits would be pleased with this statement and now doubt would bless both Blackhand and the Council. Though Marum couldn’t help but stroke his beard and wonder how the would-be soldiers were doing.

The spirits plan must not fail, lest disaster be upon the entire clan once more.

Summary

The group adventures to the mountain.

The mine reopens and prospecting begins once more.

[Chenzor]

The Kingdom of Alimor

---

It had been a few days since the great storm had ended, and all that was left of the Alimorian fleet was now but wreckage upon the shores. Keltheron the King-Mage had been swift to order the fanning out onto the grassy plains nearby to find a suitable location to settle. The mission was still the same, after all; to find a new land to call their own. The earth was fertile, to the north there was a forest and to the east they could see mountains. Small lakes dotted the landscape, with small streams befit their size. So small were the bodies of water that they were barely worth mapping out, but perhaps they could be fished out of regardless.
The initial settlement wasn't intended to be their capital, that much Keltheron and his senators had already decided, but it would be ideal for starting out. Thus, the settlement was named Ehrendal. The name of Alimor the King-Mage would save for the ideal place for their capital.

As the hovels and huts were constructed up on the grassy hill that was to be their home from now, Keltheron looked upon his people.
Their skin was bronze and brown, their hair ranging from brown to pitch-black. Their eyes were yellow, a gift from their God of Magic that according to legend shaped them out of clay. Not a single Alimorian did not have yellow eyes, and to be birthed with anything else would be an anomaly, and depending on the color, perhaps even an abomination.
The purple, the deep violet, was their royal color and thus donned only on the cape of Keltheron himself. Yellow were the clothes of the senators - mighty wizards and cunning politicians, nobles. Red were the tunics of the warriors, and green and brown were the colors of the commonfolk. Farmers, woodworkers, carpenters. Those who held higher titles despite their commoner background were sometimes given a sash with a different color and iron buckle to reflect their recognized status. For example, smiths and crafters who made magical items for the magician-caste wore a yellow sash.
Despite their clear system of casts, all knew their place in the hierarchy and although seemingly different, they were all bound together by their heritage. The ancient Alimorian heritage that ran through their blood - the gift of magic.
When among their own kin, an Alimorian never hides. When out in the world however, or when dealing with other cultures, they don face-masks befitting of their status. They were mostly plain and white, with symbols belonging to their caste.

The first days of their new lives lay before them. The people of Alimor were ready to meet the world.

(OOC note: Now that Cyclone is co-GMing he stated I may now join the RP myself if I wanted to. Obviously, I will not write my own turns, but I felt like I wanted to make that clear regardless. Let's have fun, lads!)

[Pyromaniacwolf]

The Lycan Covenant

Vlath overlooked the Ogre bodies before returning his gaze to the lycan that had approached him "Slice the throats of those that are close to death and take their heads back to Wulfhelm as a show of our victory and have their heads mounted on spikes. Take those that will survive the journey but hand them over to the Goldtooth's before we send them to the void. He may have a use for them yet."

The voidcaller examined the rest of the battlefield before he approached the most intriguing of the spoils. These Ogres were equipped and nothing would go to waste "Grash! Have your soldiers strip the corpses of their weapons and armor and don it as your own. What you cannot use pile into the wagon and give it to the Goldtooths, have them find out how they craft their weaponry and how we may replicate it. Take everything in the wagons,leave nothing. Voidcallers! Strip the survivors of their weapons and armor, they will not be needing them anymore! Use them how you wish!" Vlath shouted, addressing Grash first and the Mouths of the Voidcaller first. He would begin training his new priesthood as soon as possible. When the covenant spread across the land he would not be able to solve every religious dispute that occurred.

When the force returned to the settlement, wagon and all, he muttered to a pair of the mouths of the Voidcaller "Bring the chest from the wagons to my tent, there is something inside. I do not know what yet, be cautious." As the pair hurried off to fulfill the voidcallers will, Vlath himself turned to the remaining Mouths of the Voidcaller "You're efforts have rewarded us with our first victory against these infidels. Meet me at the site of first sacrifice if you wish to help maintain the covenant. I will join you there soon enough." He said to them, they had been a huge help in defeating the ogres here, but this new priesthood could do more than act as prisoners. They could prove essential in driving the covenant forward in the coming years.

After addressing his new priesthood, Vlath spoke with Basir who was standing near by overseeing his workers as they unloaded the new weapons and prisoners. The lycan grinned at the voidcaller, revealing his golden tooth (which he had made the namesake of his tribe when he took power, an arrogant move but it is not worth beginning a dispute over Vlath thought as he saw it) "I'll take it from Grash's orders, you're allowing me to indulge in my old hobby?" he asked.
Vlath nodded "Be creative with the resources you have, take limbs, break bones, they are not long for this world but keep them alive. Their lives are gifts to the God's. Inform me of any information you obtain from them, have some of your workers assist the Bloodfangs in preparation and have them in turn help you work the new weaponry have obtained, they are the best fighters among us so trust their judgment on matters of combat." after receiving his orders, Basir grinned and scurried off, barking orders and having the Ogres led into tents and weapons brought next to make-shift forges.

Lastly Vlath visited Grash, his orders for him were simple enough. "Prepare your warriors, accept any who wish to fight for a second time but ensure they are aware this foe will be a challenge. Use what time we have to train them and assist Goldtooth in developing new weaponry when he calls for your aid." Grash gave the high voidcaller a short nod before moving to carry out his commands, rounding up his soldiers before anything else.

Vlath finally returned to the ritual grounds, the various symbols and such carved into the ground were fated but still visible, the ashey remains of the first sacrifice where still there. In commemoration of their brother's sacrifice, Vlath gathered his ashes into a small leather pouch and would have a holy day dedicated to the first martyr. He would deal with that later however. Instead he focused his attention on the lycans who had arrived, most of which were Shadowclaw but there were some from other tribes scattered around. He wasted no time and began to teach them the more complex aspects of the faith. The language of the void (albeit when writing was used by lycans it was usually in this language but few ever wrote, there had rarely been a need), the nature of the void and most importantly to any new voidcaller, the ritual of sacrifice. He would give them the opportunity to watch one in action when they fully understood the intricacies of the ritual, but he would need to wait for Goldtooth for that. He hoped they would not take too long,even with all he had to teach. Vlath continued lecturing his new acolytes until one of the other tribe leaders came bearing news to him.

Summary

Goldtooth is torturing ogre prisoners while his workers and smiths learn what they can from the ogre weapons
Bloodfang is training/preparing his warriors
Vlath is training his new priesthood- the mouths of the voidcaller
The strange chest has been placed in Vlath's tent and is guarded by two lycans
Any Ogres with fatal/fatal looking wounds were sacrificed on the spot, those who looked like they would survive the trip were taken back to the village

[Pirate]

The Children of Artemon

D) Construction was complete and they could once again turn to higher pursuits within the safety of their new walls. For all their dedication to the gods, they were sorely lacking a real place of worship beyond the small makeshift shrines that had been created in absence of a real temple. Even Halwen, for all his wilful pragmatism, did not oppose a change in this matter. With their resources, both materially and in people, they could not hope to match the myriad of marble temples that covered their homeland. But wood was itself not an inherently simple or ugly material to work with, given the right amount of skill and effort. At the middle of the village a grand temple, a pantheon, would be built, designed to accommodate worship of all the gods. With their woodworkers' craftsmanship and colors taken from their natural goods and their new mine's minerals, they intended to make it a beautiful and unmistakeable sight. A tower would reach high, crowned by a silver disc, to be visible for all those working in the countryside surrounding Duinmelamar. The gods were central to the high elves and their temple would be the centre of their new home.

Various idols would have to be produced. For Orowuen, from silver, for Artemon, from iron, for Belia, from glass, etc. for all of them to take their place within the temple. However one of their gods was not spoken of. All the gods were necessary for a complete society, but his very name awoke fear and resentment among the children, for they remembered the crimes committed against them in his name.

Summary

Build a big temple

[Chenzor]

Turn 7

The Map

The Events at the Grove

When the elves emerged from the treeline to the right, one of the Iceborn let out a sharp whisper. "It's the Skraelings!"

Sigdar grunted and quickly sized them up. He looked like he was about to say something, but then the trolls erupted from the undergrowth even closer. They looked revolting, like nothing the Iceborn had ever seen before, and they were as vicious as any wild monsters.

"Beasts!" Sigdar roared. He drew his axe and gripped it tighter, beginning to walk towards the trolls. With each stride he seemed to grow further consumed by a growing rage. He boomed loud enough for half the clearing to hear, "This is Kjorn's first test: sever their heads before they defile this sacred ground!"

Sigdar's menacing walk broke into a wild charge towards the nearby trolls as he loosed a ferocious battlecry. The warriors behind him were quick to draw their weapons and follow. They created a sheldwall as they moved to close the gap, but by the time they reached their enemies Sigdar had already fallen upon the trolls like an avalanche.

Scout Oredhel once again scanned his surroundings. It looked like trouble. They had not come here to fight nor to make friends, but it may equally be in his people's service to find out more about these strangers and observe whatever might take place. During their ranging the scouts had made plentiful contact with the giants and it was a relief to see them here, with the interest of safety in numbers he made the decision that they go join up with them. It would create welcome distance between themselves and the human warband as well as the trolls. It would also bring them closer to the dark elves who, while their kind always inspired discomfort, were an intriguing sight after what happened to their people in the Dark Woods. He sent Fingon to go gather the ash that they had come for and then rejoin them as they made their way towards the giants.

They had not gotten far when the great battle cry erupted from the Iceborns. Battle had already begun. Oredhel shouted for Fingon to hurry, but their plan to head for the giants remained the same.

The Blood Trolls, responding to the human aggression with fierce battlecries of their own, slammed their spears into their shields or their axes together, and charged in unison without organization - it was simply as if it was the first natural thing that came upon them all at once.
They were equal in number to the Iceborn, almost two dozen, but Sigdar came upon them way ahead of the others. Much to their anger and frustration, the beast of a man could not be bested even when taking on the entire group. He swung his axe in wide arcs, either wounding trolls or forcing them to back off. Then the rest of the humans arrived, and battle was joined.

Axe met shield, sword met sword, spear met flesh. The Iceborn had brought their greatest warriors, and theirs was a legacy of war. The trolls, despite bloodthirst, stood equally matched against the humans but their leader tipped the scales. Sigdar was simply too powerful to be counted as a single man.
Then, one of the trolls pushed away whatever Iceborn he was locked in combat with, and took two steps back. Almost simultanously, the others followed suit. All of them flexed their muscles, brandished their great tusks, and roared into the skies. A blood-red hue, even more sickening than their skin and the blood that stained the ground began to emit from their bodies. As if a fire had lit within them, their eyes lit up in an almost demonic glow.

Then they threw themselves back at the Iceborn, suddenly fighting with increased ferocity. All the while, the surrounding groups were stunned at the display of combat.

Scout Leader Trapper glanced around the clearing, somewhat concerned with the various factions that had gathered together in this clearing... even if the fact that the forest itself seemed to have... led them here was unnerving.

Watching as the beings that had enslaved their kin launched an assault against the trolls, Trapper quickly made a decision; with some sharp barks, two of his number were selected to act as messagers to quickly run towards the two groups of strange creatures that had gathered that weren't already actively fighting in order to judge their intentions (one to the Dark Elves, one to the group of elves and giants).

As for the rest of the scouting party, a hand signal was all that it took to make his intentions clear; Crossbows were readied and aimed towards the battle raging between the trolls and the humans. While the humans were clearly the targets they were taking, the only reason that they were giving a damn about not hitting the trolls outright was because they were willingly pinning the humans down and they didn't want to turn both factions against them at once.

When the troll immediately before him backed off and began to fall into its savage trance, Sigdar did not just stand and watch. As it howled to the sky, Sigdar swung his axe and cleaved the troll in half by its waist. Another one leaped at him then, but he split its skull in half before it could plunge a dagger into his chest. From the side a spear lunged forward and its edge grazed him, but he felt nothing. He grabbed the polearm and snapped it in two, then gripped the troll by its tusks and flung it ten feet back.

The other warriors had only enough time to catch their breath and tighten the gaps in the shieldwall before the trolls threw themselves forward once more. Where before the Iceborn warriors had used their iron weaponry and rigid formation to push back the trolls and slowly gain and advantage, now the trolls were fighting with such wild strength that it was the humans that were slowly being backed away. And then a hail of crossbow bolts rained down.

Two struck Sigdar, for in that moment he had cleared away the trolls about him and he made for a large target anyways. The rest of the Iceborn were less exposed for having their shields raised and having the trolls immediately between them and whatever was firing upon them; in the heat of the moment they couldn't even tell where the bolts were coming from.

But Sigdar saw. He stepped to the side and wrenched his axe free from the troll that it had been buried in. "Gilbin vermin! I'll water the fields with your blood!" he roared in their direction, pulling out one of the crossbows lodged in his shoulder as if it had only been a splinter.

On the other side of the grove, the giants had been waiting patiently, observing the battle much like the seemingly passive Dark Elves to the south. The Children of Artemon came up to the Giants, only four in number but more than enough if push would come to shove.
"Hail, children." the lead giant spoke in his deep, gentle voice. His name was Modimus and was familiar with the elves from prior encounters.
"It appears we have a battle on our hands. Those humans seemed to recognize you, and so do the Dreamers over there." Modimus continued, and pointed at the Dark Elves as he referred to them as dreamers.
"We have no intention of fighting. We came here to see what the Great One had sent from the skies during the deluge... It seems others did too."
Modimus' gaze went to Sigdar on the far side of the grove.
"I think we found it."

"It pleases us to hear that, Modimus, we have no desire for violence either." Oredhel replied, all the while he and his companions stood tense with their eyes set on the conflict erupting on the other side of the crater. "But these dreamers.. what do you know of them?"

As the goblins quickly reloaded their crossbows in order to fire off another volley (and start a fighting retreat if need be; No shame in luring the bigger buggers through the trees where their size would work against them), one of their number paused for a second as he suddenly had a truly wicked idea; As he pulled his bolt out but before he loaded it up, he took the bolt and wiped his ass with it before loading it up and taking aim. This might have just been a battle, but there was no harm in taking steps to help win the war.

A goblin ran through the ash covered crater in order to meet up with the strange combination of the tall and pointy humanoids and the absolutely giant group of... well, giants that they had started to intermingle with. With a somewhat squeeky voice, the goblin asked "Hmm... Who are you guys and what are you doing here?"

Even as he spoke, another goblin had rushed over to the dark elf group, asking the same question in her somewhat high pitched way as well.

Modimus hummed low as he pondered his answer. "The dreamers are dwellers of the Dark Forests south of our village. We know little of them, only that they are very protective of their forests, and--"
A goblin ran up to them, out of breath from running across the crater. "Stay back, wicked creature. If you seek us harm, we will not be polite in return. If you seek to know us, first tell us of yourselves." replied Modimus to the Goblin, furrowing his brows into a frown.

The Dark Elves observed the Goblin as it made it's way towards them. When they thought he had came close enough, one of them raised his bow at the creature. They were close enough to talk with slightly raised voices, but not close enough to feel the goblin's stench. The elf didn't fire - he merely helt the goblin at a distance as their leader stepped forward, his hands clasped low in front of him. Once they had made the distance clear, the bowelf lowered his bow and went back to simply observing.
"State your business, creature." the lead Dark-Elf said in a slow but not aggressive tone. In fact, he seemed quite calm. He was passive, perhaps friendly even at best, but obviously did not hold goblins in high regard. Despite the goblin having already asked his question in his squeeky tone, the leader Elf did not budge. It seems answers wouldn't come simply from neither the elves nor the giants.

Lucky the goblin, still breathless from his run across the crater, looked up at the giants and elves as he regained his breath before speaking. "We are not here to fight you. We are here to attack the Ripdip.." He had used a word in his native tongue... before pausing as he tried to think of an alternative "False Friends, who betrayed, slaughtered and enslaved our kin. They might seem friendly at first, but as soon as they know where you live they will plot against you."

Song Bird looked at the elves with her hands raised to about head level, making it clear that she wasn't a threat to them as she cleared her throat. "We are here to avenge our fallen kin who were betrayed by the seemingly friendly Ripdip and slaughtered or enslaved by them. We mean you no harm and we would expect the same from you in turn."

Sigdar's bellowing towards the goblins seemed to elicit no more response than another volley, but it was cut short anyways by the troll that he had just flung backwards. Casting down the shaft of its broken spear, the monster snatched up the dagger of the one that Sigdar had just slain and the shield of the other troll that had been cut in half earlier.

It jumped forward with its shield raised. Sigdar's rune-covered axe slammed down upon the shield in a downwards stroke and punched through, but it was stuck. The troll seized that moment and used the dagger in its other hand to slash at Sigdar's belly, but Kjorn's champion leaned back and narrowly dodged the swipe. Having held his grip on the haft of the axe as he did so, Sigdar ripped it out of the shield and swung once more.

The troll blocked the axe again, but it left the shield shattered. It threw itself forward and had its dagger arm severed at the elbow, but the bloodlust in the troll's fiery eyes made it hardly even feel the pain. It was practically on top of Sigdar, so close that the human could smell the metallic blood gushing from its wound as well as the blood on its rancid breath. There wasn't even enough space for him to swing his axe. The troll leaned in and tried to gore him with its tusks, but Sigdar pressed the flat of his axe against the thing's chest and held it back. Then a crossbow bolt intended for Sigdar struck the troll in the back of the head and denied Kjorn's champion the pleasure of mangling his own enemy.

Sigdar stole a quick glance towards his warriors. Two had fallen by now, but they were still holding off the blood trolls especially now that Sigdar had just fought off three of the beasts. Another bolt landed inches away from him, and on its tip he noticed some putrid toxin. The savage gilbins with their strange weapons were perhaps an even greater threat than these trolls.

Sigdar looked to the shield that the troll had just picked up, but his axe had left it in pieces. So then he looked at the sorry troll before him, no longer moving but breathing if only barely. 'You'll do,' he thought. With his axe in one hand, he hefted up the unconscious troll by the throat with its other. Using its body as a shield, he began to make his way towards the gilbin pests.

As bolts flew from Goblin crossbows, hitting human and troll alike, some of the trolls further in the back took note of their new aggressors. Three of them broke off and charged at the goblins, heaving wild insults and screams in some guttural hellish language. It sounded like calls to a God.
As Sigdar made his way toward the Goblins as well, with a gurgling dying troll held up as a meatshield, he heard a familiar groan from the shieldwall. He glanced back, never stopping his advance, to notice that Bjern, a very competent warrior and a friend of his, had been impaled upon a troll spear. The hulking beast now held him up in the air at the end of the spear, slowly sinking downward as the spear goes through his body.
Despite his rage, the God of War did not grant him the boon he had during the battle with the Deep Ones. Either that meant this was a test and Kjorn was watching him, or the God did not see these enemies as fit of a proper battle. If so, was Bjern's death dishonorable? No... He died thrashing on a battlefield. He would enter the halls of the Gods.

Another bolt pierced the troll he carried. Further back, some trolls groaned as they were hit with bolts, and two of them fell to the ground. The others simply ripped the bolt out of their sturdy skin and kept fighting. Sigdar could hear the sounds of weapons smashing against shields...

As the giant of a man actually picked up a dying troll to use as a meatshield and several of the other trolls had broken away from their group to start heading towards them, Trapper made a tactical call; It was time to fall back. With a sharp whistle and a quick hand signal, the goblins started to fall back into the forest where their small size would benefit the most at avoiding their larger, stronger enemies while giving them good oppotunity to occasionally take a shot back at their pursuit.

Seeing that the gilbins had ceased their organized volley and were fleeing back into the treeline, Sigdar threw down his living shield and left the comatose monster to die of its wounds. Unhindered by its bulk, he was able to move much faster and was rapidly closing the gap. In the underbrush of the woods, he followed the sounds of frantic movement and caught a glimpse of a green goblin. With a roar, he charged through the bushes and knocked aside the branches in his way.

As the goblins reached the treeline, they quickly seperated into smaller groups in order to split up and take advantage of pathways that favored the small size of both their individual parties and their physical bodies in order to move quickly... expect for one. Once he had broken line of sight with the monster of a Ripdip that had chased after them, Trapper had ducked behind a tree to hide as he loaded up his crossbow and waited.

He doubted that he would be able to kill the beast of a man with one shot... but he hoped that a surprise bolt into the back of his knee would slow him down enough to allow himself and his people to gain the upper hand and just pelt him from range where he couldn't reach them... or possibly just murdered by the pursing trolls. Either or.

The wait wasn't long; hardly a moment passed between the bolt being locked into place and the brute of a man bashing his way through the leaves and emerging on the other side of the tree. He had lost sight of his quarry and there were no more frantic footsteps to be heard. The hairs on his neck stood up, and Sigdar spun around just in time to take the bolt to his thigh. But the one that had shot him was mere feet away. With little more than a grunt of pain, he lumbered forward and roughly snatched at the goblin.

There was only a brief struggle before the human overpowered his much smaller adversary and tore the crossbow out of Trapper's clutches. One of the blood trolls burst out and roared. It wasn't clear whether it intended to strike at Sigdar or Trapper, but it hardly had a chance to react in either case. Sigdar threw the crossbow at it with enough force for the weapon to contort into an unusable state and for the troll to stagger back in a daze, and then he grabbed the goblin and began to drag him back out of the woods.

There was no contest that Trapper would be able to face the larger creature in hand to hand combat; Even under normal conditions, the size difference and the reach of the larger man was simply too great. However, as the man turned to fling his crossbow at the troll the goblin refused to go quietly into the night! Pulling out one of his remaining crossbow bolts, he charged the human man and attempted to leap onto his leg while he was distracted, his intent being to try and ram the bolt into the back of his knee personally and either keep stabbing him there with it over and over again... or failing that, break the bolt off into the wound.

In the moment that it had taken to fend off the troll, the gilbin rat scrambled onto Sigdar's leg and stabbed at the back of his knee with some crude implement. Before it could do more, he grabbed its arm and twisted it until there was a snap and the creature released its weapon.

With a fresh limp in his step, Sigdar began to drag the struggling giblin out of the treeline. None of its friends seemed to have any objection. Perhaps the craven creatures were happy to sacrifice one of their own, or perhaps the trolls were seeing them off.

Modimus looked at the small green-skinned creature in confusion. "Rip... dip?" he repeated, but let out an audible breath of "ah" as the goblin explained the meaning behind the word. "False friends, you say..." Modimus looked at Oredhel, his somewhat confused expression trying to ask the elf of help with the conversation.

Oredhel did not greatly value the words of fiendish little goblins, but he could see the savage fury of the Iceborn with his own eyes. Even the fool Falnor suspected the friendly nature of the men he met and now the danger was entirely apparent. There was a choice to be made and it could drag the Children into another war. "It is not safe for us to talk here, goblin. We will not leave with you, but to the west there is a river. Follow it inland and we will find you should you wish to speak with us."

Song Bird the goblin was eyed from head to toe by the lead elf. He nodded at his companion, who lowered his bow and arrow pointed at the small female. "We have no interest in joining battle against any of you. I'd advise you to return to your kin, but... It seems they have left you here."
He turned his head to glance back at his companions. He spoke some orders to two of the group, an elf man and an elf woman, and they nodded in return. The woman left to walk towards the High Elves and the Giants gathering to their left, while the elf man ventured down into the crater. Song Bird noticed he carried a large number of pouches on him and no weapons.

Song Bird waved the concern away. "I know how to catch up with them. Thanks for not killing us." Before turning to flee into the treeline after her kin.

Lucky glanced over his shoulder at the battle that was raging before turning back to the group he was talking to. "If you'll excuse me it seems I need to go." before darting into the nearest line of trees; His path was going to be somewhat longer and more round about, but he was a trained hunter and tracker of the Conclave; Finding his team again wouldn't be that hard.

On the other side of the grove, the Trolls began to pull back. They had spilled blood in glorious combat as was their ways, but too much troll blood had been spilled in turn. While the bulk of the group held the Iceborn off, others picked up survivors and even what dead bodies (those who weren't cleaved in two) they could find. They began retreating back into the treeline, successfully fending off the Iceborn now that Sigdar wasn't there to dominate them in melee combat. One by one they slipped back into the forest, and just like that the battle was over.

Three mutilated troll bodies lay on the ground, plus another troll limb or two that didn't belong to any of the slain. The rest dead or wounded had been carried off, but the Iceborn counted at least seven casualties inflicted upon the trolls. Their numbers were equally hurt however, as four Iceborn warriors lay dead on the ground while another three were injured, lightly or worse.

The troll that Sigdar had dazed by throwing a crossbow in his face had recovered fast and had at first began to pursue them, but when he saw the rest of his kin start to regroup among the trees and bushes he too pulled away. Before he left however, he pulled out a dagger from his waist and cut his palm. He clenched his fist and let the blood drip down into the soil, all the while staring at Sigdar with hatred. It elicited a response in the form of Kjorn's champion spitting upon the ground in scorn.

A vow of vengeance had been made, sealed in blood.

Sigdar dragged his goblin captive back into the open and roughly pushed it onto the ground before his remaining warriors. Those that were not wounded or tending to said wounded looked to him for orders. "Bind it so that it cannot escape," he commanded.

"We have no rope."

Sigdar snorted and looked Trapper in disdain. A tingle of pain crept through the back of his knee. "Then break one of its feet."

While that order was being carried out, Sigdar looked upon the faces of each of his fallen. His gaze lingered upon his friend Bjern for a while longer, but then drifted away. Their glory was to be envied, and in a way so too was their ultimate fate. For the rest of the Iceborn, there would be more battles to come.

It was only then that Sigdar looked up and saw the other arrivals; the familiar skraelings had made their way over to some strange giants and were mingling with them. He wanted to approach these skraelings and those giants, for the legends of the Iceborn said many things both ill and fond of giantfolk, but there was a more immediate concern.

Almost directly across the clearing stood a party of strangers that looked sort of like the familiar skraeling 'elves', but these were different. And one of them approached Kjorn's mark with pouches!

Sigdar immediately began to make his way towards the middle of the clearing, directly towards that elf. In one of his hands, he still openly carried his runed axe. So seemingly determined was he that each of his great strides were like two and a half of a normal man's, even with that limp rendered by the giblin filth.

As he approached the dark elf near the center of the clearing, its fellow skraelings farther back looked towards him. He did not quaver, and nor did he lower his axe. He stopped only when he had come to a distance perhaps ten strides away from the dark elf.

"Halt!" Kjorn's champion boomed. "Why do you tread upon this sacred ground, skraeling? What are the meaning of those pouches?"

The Dark Elf stood up, seemingly done with their business. Sigdar hadn't seen what the skraeling had done, but he could deduce from the handmarks upon the ash-covered ground that he had collected the ash in the pouches.

"The great dreamer has awakened, and we stand upon the scar left of his wrath. Who--" the elf started, but the leader called on him from further back.
"Return to us, Erenel."
That was when Sigdar noticed the rest of the Dark Elves had their bows aimed at him with cold eyes.
"I have said too much. Worry not, human. You are not the only ones who tend to these holy grounds."
And then he turned and left, back up the hill to his kin. He had a devious look upon him, and despite the words he spoke seeming friendly, his tone had a sharp edge to it.

"This is no work of your dreamer, but of the warrior god Kjorn," was spat back for an answer. "And a true warrior does not rest to dream. Remember this when he spurns you and bids his Chosen lay siege to your hovels."

The Dark Elves did not respond. They simply turned and retreated back into their forests, their leader leaving a lingering gaze at Sigdar before joining his companions and disappearing into the thick of the forest.

Further away, Lucky the goblin left the giants and high elves as quickly as he had appeared, leaving the two groups quite confused for a moment before continuing with their prior conversation.
"Hrrmmm..." grumbled Modimus. "Silly tiny creatures, always in such a rush... You slightly bigger folk always seem to be fighting each other, too. No matter. You were wondering about the Dreamers... They claim dominion over the Dark Woods, south from our camp. They protect it fiercly, only journeying out of it when in need. It seems they needed something from here, else we would never see them. I wish I could tell you more, friend Oredhel, but I knew little of them from the start."

Oredhel couldn't help but crack a smile at the giant's description of his people. "They seem an aloof people, but they treated us with a certain kind of mercy. Tell me Modimus, what do you make of these humans? We met them previously and they seemed entirely capable of peace, but the things we have heard and seen here makes them appear evermore uninterested in it. I fear that they could pose a threat to both our peoples."
"Hrm. Should push come to shove, my friend, we would aid you. But as has always been the ways of the giants - we prefer to stay away from needless conflict. In my mind, we have nothing to fear from the humans if we have nothing they want. They have already made enemies here today, it would be best not to add to that number."
"We agree, but I fear that inaction may lead to greater problems in the future. Though equally we should not be too hasty to act on our fears." Oredhel replied.
Then Modimus brings out a small trinket from under the pelt covering his shoulders. It is a small wooden figurine, carved into the image of a giant. He places the small totem on the ground and sits down before it. His giant companions do the same.
"Now that the fighting is over, we may offer our respects to the great one who has made his presence clear here. You saw it too, didn't you friend Oredhel? The great bolt of lightning that struck the ground? This is his mark upon the world, the great one, Kôr. It would appear the humans revere him as well."



Modimus then held a short ceremony where he hummed deep and low a verse in his own language. It didn't take more than a minute, but the words were long and drawn-out. Oredhel, or anyone else hearing it for that matter, couldn't understand the words but the tune was quite heavy and filled with gloom.
When he was done, he resumed the conversation with Oredhel. His companions stood up, but Modimus remained seated in front of the totem.

The dark elves having vanished as mysteriously as they had come, Sigdar turned back to look upon the other elves and the giant-folk that their group had mingled with. As with the rest of his people, Sigdar knew of these skraeling 'elves' from what tales Yngvar had told of his expedition's journey upriver. He had neither seen nor heard of the other beings of much greater stature, but those strangers were recognizable enough from the Iceborn's legends. They must have been the kindred of Lolk the Giant.

With his axe lowered and at a slower pace, Sigdar made his way back from the center of the clearing and towards the assembly of giants and elves. "Hail, Children of Artemon," he called out to the elves. But he was distracted and looked towards the giants and their totem. They were what intrigued him. "And hail, Lolksfolk. Have you come to offer praise to Kjorn?"

"Lolksfolk..?" Modimus repeated, surprised. He stood up, eyeing the human warrior from head to toe more thoroughly as he approached. "Could you possibly speak of Lokir the Allfather?"

"Allfather?" Sigdar asked as his brows furled. "He is a clever god and father to many things, but not all. But you must be among his folk; how else would you stand so tall?"

Modimus scratched his chin slowly in thought. After several long moments, he opens his mouth to speak. "I ... Suppose we could be considered Lolksfolk. Aye, we came to offer prayers to Kôr. It would seem we worship the same God, human, as you seem highly devoted to the mark he has left upon this world. But there is something about you... The runes that cover your body and your axe - I recognize them. What makes you different, friend?"

"Prayer is but the first step of a long journey," the warrior proclaimed back in cryptic response. "To gain Kjorn's favor as I have, you must do more than pray. You must devote your life to conquest in his name and the honing of your strength, and only once you have mastered the craft of war shall you have his favor. That is what I have done. So how much do you offer to Kjorn, Lolksfolk? Mere words, or your every breath?"

The giants seem reluctant to answer the proud warrior, but not due to ignorance but rather, it seems like they wish not to tell some secret of theirs. "Your devotion to Kôr is admirable. Indeed, it is inspiring. I am Modimus, and these are my kinsmen. These here elves I understand you have already met; the Children of Artemon."
Modimus slowly bends as he gestures to the elves and picks up the small idol, putting it back somewhere underneath his pelts. Then without a word, the rest of the giant companions begin making ready to leave, seemingly.
"We came here to acknowledge the mark of Kôr and to look upon his reaching into our world. We found both it and his most devoted, it seems. But it is time we make our way back to our camp. Perhaps we shall hear of one another again, champion of Kôr."

"Then farewell, Lolksfolk." It was no small thing to ask that they join the ranks of Kjorn's Chosen, so he was not surprised when they said no more. They were like most men. But still, Sigdar felt disappointment; he had hoped that these giants would be greater in more than stature and their bravery and devotion to the gods might similarly surpass that of most ordinary men. But alas, he seemed to be wrong. "Should your strength ever fail you or the dormant flame in your blood ignite, come to these lands and find me once more. I, Sigdar First-Chosen, will teach you Kjorn's ways and lead you to glory," he called out to their backs. At least one of the giants glanced back at him as they left.

And then Sigdar turned to the elves. "Yngvar spoke highly of your kind and the bow that you gifted unto him is the envy of every one of my tribe's huntsmen. Am I well met by more than have come to worship Kjorn?"

Oredhel waved his hand at Fingon, who turned to leave. "It is good to hear, our craftsmanship is our greatest pride and word will be passed on to the maker. Falnor spoke well of Yngvar's amicability, but nothing that prepared us for the great ferocity you displayed here today. However we have not come here to worship. The storm and the great lightning bolt were felt from our homes and we came here to see to see the impact ourselves and gather whatever may be necessary to deepen our understanding."

"So in the storm you saw Kjorn's power, and in battle you witnessed mine. My tribe has many enemies, and after today we shall have even more. But they are snowflakes before the avalanche that is us. If you will follow Kjorn, this power can be yours too."

The barbarian's words awoke memories of his people's persecution and Oredhel couldn't help but let a tone of distaste slip into his words. "We have no need for your gods. Orowuen, our creator, watches over us and his kin guide us. You will find no luck in turning Artemon's most loyal worshippers into the servants of a war god."

"If your god taught you to craft weapons so well, I do not think that Kjorn would mind him. But so be it! Fletch your magical bows, and may this strange creator protect you when trials come."

The conversation seemed over, unless Oredhel had something to retort. But Sigdar did not move. He stood there as an unflinching statue, ignoring the pain behind his knee and refusing to show weakness by shifting his weight onto the other leg. If the skraelings would not worship Kjorn, they would certainly not desecrate holy ground so long as Kjorn's champion drew breath.

The elves had what they came for and there was little left to discuss. "May you find peace, Sigdar." Oredhel made his exit, bringing the rest of his companions with him.

In Sigdar's mind, there echoed a final thought. He wasn't sure if it was his own.

'Peace breeds comfort. And comfort breeds weakness.'

With that, the elves began their journey home.

The Iceborn

@Cyclone

Turn 7

A lone figure stood at the entrance to the Barrow build to the fallen. Dag couldn't see if it was a man or a woman, but something about the figure was utterly unfamiliar to him. At the same time, he felt like he knew this person. Whoever it was, he or she was dressed only in long thick robes with a hood over their head and a wolf pelt across the shoulders. They didn't look like a warrior, but neither a crone. Slowly, the figure turned around to face Dag, coming upon the barrow from far away. In the distance, he couldn't make out the figure, but he thought he could see a great white beard.
Then he blinked, and the figure was gone. Dag froze where he stood. He looked around, had anyone else seen the figure? No... The plains were empty. All Dag could hear was the hum of the soft breeze.
From the spot the stranger had stood upon was a patch of white upon the ground. It lingered even as Dag finally worked up the presence of mind to finally approach the barrow. There, he realized the white patch was in fact the grass covered with frost and ice. The air was still cold in this exact spot, and upon one of the rocks stood a lone candle. It was lit with a tiny, dying flame. As Dag stared at it in awe, it was snuffed out by the breeze.

No vision came from the Gods, no signs or omens in the sky or the ash of the burnt sacrifices... There was only the cold wind blowing from the sea, from the north. Always from the north.

Several days passed. No doubt Sigdar was off training his warriors, and Dag was going about his daily business. He was carrying a stack of pelts from the docks up to the great longhouse, when suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks, dropping the pelts and falling to one knee.
The world around him grew dim, and at first Dag thought he was dying, but instead he felt the world pass by before him. He was taken north against the cold ocean winds, until finally he saw a great cliff extending from the western shore out into the sea. Ice formed in his beard as the winds bit his face, and he was taken higher into the skies as he approached the create spike of a peninsula that extended outward and upward. There, upon the daggercliffs, Dag saw Deep Ones. Hundreds of them, even thousands. They crawled upon the rocks, devouring fish and their own dead like spewflies upon dung.

And just like that, he was back in Dagshall. A laborer had come over to him to check if he was alright, and helped him to his feet. He picked the stack of pelts back up and said nothing. The Gods had finally showed him what he wanted to know; the location of the Deep Ones.

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: 249 men, 269 women, 78 children.

- 156 Goblin Thralls

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:

- Children of Artemon: Neutral
- Deep Ones: Hated
- Dark Elves: Neutral
- Giants: Neutral

The Antari

@Murtox No post found. 2/3.

Turn 3

The scouts ventured outward into the surrounding region and found seemingly abundant wildlife. To the north the terrain was mostly open with a river cutting through the grasslands. With only a few trees and forestated areas to protect them, the animals here were mostly small like rabbit, deer, beaver and the occasional fox or other lesser predator. The river was full of fish however, and near the streams where the samon jumped up the small falls, bears could be found waiting for an easy snack. In the mountains close to Pachacamac, the scouts found mountain goats and great rams that seemed a good choice for domestication indeed, but they were such adequate climbers that they simply eluded the scouts wherever they found them.
To the west, the scouts dared not venture too deep into the unknown forest but they noted a few brown bears near the outskirts. They must live north and west of the river that cuts through the grasslands, and in the forest they found elk and moose.
Lastly, to the east, the scouts were chased out of the mirky woods by packs of wolves, more brown bears and territorially aggressive moose and elk, even reindeer. Why had the wildlife grown so hostile to the east, and not the west, the scouts wondered.
Oh, and boars. Boars were pretty much everywhere, in the grasslands, near the slopes of the hills before the mountains and the woods to the east and west.

Rano Rancor looked at his new invention. Not bad, he thought, but not a masterpiece either. He held up the crude crossbow in his hands and aimed at the target he had set up in his workshop at the opposite side of the wall. He aimed, placed the sights at the bullseye, and fired. THWOP, THUNK... The bolt hit slightly off target. No matter, he thought. Nothing that a simple adjustment can't fix.
He barely had time to finish his thought before Amari Asto himself, accompanied by a few advisors including Manco, came to his workshop to check on his progress.

"Well sire, I do believe I have a good enough prototype ready but I was just about to make some final adjustments. Would you like to try it? It's quite easy to use." he said, quickly showed Amari Asto how to properly aim and fire, and off went the bolt toward the target.
Still slightly off... Hm. Oh well. It was still a strong invention, and on par with the lizardmen's own contraptions. But would Amari Asto be pleased enough with his endeavor?

-

An expedition was formed. If the supposed human tribe to the south could be contacted, the Antari thought they might be allies against the lizardmen. They trained themselves, supplied themselves and finally set off toward their destination, given to them by their captive lizard, so many were uncertain of the accuracy of this intelligence. Still, they had a mission to complete and they would see it through for their people, their family and friends and their ruler. (Is Amari Asto a king?)

It occured to them once they had exited the guarded pass however that... Well, they can't just simply stroll by the lizardmen camp. They might be spotted, attacked and eaten or worse, in that order.
They came up with a few alternatives, and the man or woman who had been named expedition leader considered their options. They could either...
A) Stroll straight south, hoping to avoid the lizardmen in the mountains while they take the most direct route toward their destination.
B) Go further west around the great lake, to (hopefully) avoid the lizardmen but to complete their task at a slower rate.
C) Get as far away from the lizardmen as possible westward to completely avoid them and safely get to their destination, but cost them a lot of extra time.
D) Southeast! Of course! Obviously the mountains can't go on forever, maybe there's an easy way to the humans by going around the lizardmen no their east side.

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: 223 men, 218 women, 56 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:

- Lizardmen of Ves'Tuk: Hostile

The Children of Artemon

@Pirate

Turn 6

Silversteel... Aronax thought. What work of wonder could possibly have set this in the earth? Has Artemon blessed us after all?
Aronax was the prospector set to work at the large iron, silver and silversteel mines that had recently begun operation in the vast mountains to the north. He was ancient and venerable, and although his hands were ragged from many years of craftmanship, he could still use them in his new proffession. He had concluded that Silversteel was as precious as silver indeed, but put iron to shame. Barely could the iron tools be used to excavate the silversteel ore from the rockwalls, that's how sturdy it was. It was hard to shape and a chore to process, but once the product was made... It was worth it.
Aronax held up the clump of ore in his hand. Pure silversteel, glimmering in the candlelight of his workroom, a makeshift office on the side of the mountain next to the mining entrance. Not only could he tell the immense value of such a resource, but he could sense magical properties in it as well. Perhaps once they could weave magic into their crafts once more, the silversteel could be used for wonderous works of art and tools.
But it was his job to make assessments, not just revel in the beauty of precious minerals. He must recommend to the rest of his people what to make of this new invaluable and seemingly indestructible, but rare, material.

A) Turn the silversteel into tools that will rarely ever break and will stay usable for a thousand years. No more replacing iron lumberaxes and pickaxes and knives, silversteel is eternal!

B) With weapons of silversteel, and the magical properties they may hold, the tragedy of Celebrimbor would never repeat. A sword that would never break, a spear that can pierce any foe, through shield and armor.

C) Hubris must not claim us. We shall fashion the silversteel into idols and offerings to our Gods, that they may see our dedication and protect us once more. No more shall we be ashamed of having nothing to offer our gods - the sheer value and magical properties of Silversteel is sure to be of value to the Gods!

X Although the options are clear, Aronax manages to think of something else...

Back in Duinmelamar, construction began on the temple that was to crown the middle of the settlement. Already the architects had written up their plans and decided to place a silver disc on the top of the central tower so that all throughout their lands, everyone could see their grand temple.
As stones were set in place to make the foundation of the temple, a woodworker came up to one of the architects. "Forgive me, this may not be my place to say, but I have a suggestion for the construction of our great temple." the elf spoke, rather humbly. It was clear he did not want to overstep his bounds, but the architects were kind. After the tragedies that had befallen them, High Elven society among the children of Artemon no longer enforced strict social norms yet still many retained their humble and proper way of demeanor and speach.
"What is your suggestions, my friend?" the architect responded.
"We have found white trees in the nearby woods. There aren't many, but surely their beauty would come of great use in the construction of our temple."

It was true. Three small forested areas surrounded Duinmelamar to the south, west and north, and here once in a while a thick leafless white tree could be found. They were white oaks and seemed to hold no special purpose, but could be used as timber just the same as regular oak. Far north in another forested area, the Lothelonni spoke of similar trees. It would seem it was a mark upon this region.

While the construction of the temple continues, the architects would have to decide wether or not they would want to use these white oaks for anything specific in their construction of the temple.

[Temple construction completed next turn. Temple central tower with silver disc completed in 2 turns.]
[Oredhel and his scouts will return next 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: 170 men, 173 women, 59 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.), iron, silver, silversteel.
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade:

Imports: Raw leather and animal goods from Giant Camp.
Exports: Processed leather goods to Giant Camp.

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

- Bonesnapper Tribe: Hated
- Giant Camp: Friendly
- Lothelonni: [Assimilated]
- Iceborn: Neutral
- Dark Elves: Neutral

Clan Oreborn

@Kangutso No post found. Turn: 2/3

Turn 4

A goldenbeard explorer sat on a rock, resting after his recent voygages. He had been tasked, along with his group, of finding animals nearby that could perhaps be tamed or domesticated. It was a tale he'd be telling over a pint of ale for many years to come.

Hours earlier...
The beast whirled, almost knocking the dwarves over by the sheer gust of wind. It was bulky, giant and had huge tusks but its' legs were short and sprinty so it couldn't strike at all of them at once.
When it snapped back to fight off one of the dwarves, another stabbed at it with his spear. Eventually they managed to tire it enough that it collapsed on the ground. Everyone drew a sigh of relief. The beast was in fact a boar, but calling it a boar was a gross understatement from its' immense size. It was like a rhino, or a mammoth if there were any in this world. How they would tame or domesticate such a giant pig, they had no idea and so they left the beast to recover on the ground. Much to their shock and awe, and indeed horror, as soon as they turned around the beast lept up again and charged at them. In a strange turn of events, Gorgh the lead scout was flung up in the air, harmlessly landed on the beast's neck and gave it a good whack with his fist. The beast stopped dead in it's tracks, throwing Gorgh off to land in front of it, and when everone thought the beast would devour him whole or trample him to death, the darn thing licked him. It suddenly became like a lost puppy who found a new mother - so docile and gentle. The entire scouting group rode on the back of the giant boar back to the clan's lower settlement where they initially scared the living hell out of the villagers, but later managed to convince them the beast was harmless. Mostly.
Now, Gorgh and his dwarves had been tasked with finding more of the beasts to domesticate and bring back. Oh woe is me, Gorgh said and fell asleep on a rock.

Back home, the smithy and the few Ironbeards available had started working on crossbows for the military. The woodworkers were soon brought into the project and eventually, a steady workflow was created. They would continue their work until told to stop or until materials ran out.

-

Echadon and his companions of 8 were sent to the Ursar, who welcomed them warmly but would not let them pass into the settlement center just yet. It seems some sort of celebration or ritual was under way and while the dwarves were welcomed in, they were not allowed to participate.
After a moment of waiting in the large tent that has become the sort-of embassy for whenever the dwarves visit, an Ursar you have never met before enters the tent. He is old and venerable and speaks slow in a croaky voice. Barely did you even have to ask them about the strange storm, for they told of the omen their God had given them. They revere a God called Khoros who is their God of strength, blood and honor. The storm was to them Khoros leaving his mark upon the world. They said very soon, Warriors of Khoros shall come to call upon all true followers for the final war for the world itself.

If you believe them... Well, that's up to you.

[City completed in: 4-6 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: 184 men, 180 women, 64 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.

The Lycan Covenant

@Pyromaniacwolf

Turn 4

It would seem the ogres were more prone to give information under torture. From torturing the survivors before sacrificing them to the Gods, Goldtooth learned that the Ogres in Durgal's Basecamp are 500 as previously thought, but they aren't the only Ogres in this peninsula. Appearantly there are two more Ogre Clans in the nearby region - one of the blackskinned Blackgrin Clan, and one of the redskinned Bloodfist Clan. Durgal's clan was the Ironeye Clan, and according to the prisoners, Durgal was the most powerful of the three warlords.

Not only had Goldtooth now learned the numbers and locations of the other Ogres, but he had also gotten a general lay of the land. Appearantly, Wulfhelm is upon the southern coast of a peninsula. To the west there is a vast forest, and to the north is where the other two clans are. His guess is that the other Ogre clans hadn't found the lycan yet because there's a massive mountain in the way. The prisoners had no more information to give, so their throats were slit in sacrifice to the Void Gods.

The warriors of the tribe had found the Ogre weaponry of good use. Their armors had to be outfitted to actually fit a lycan body, but everything they looted they could take as their own. Goldtooth's workers had also managed to copy the design of the weapons and armor, but they concluded that it wasn't really anything special. It was more than the lycans had, sure, but without proper raw materials such as iron, new goods could not be produced.

-

The Chest was taken back to Vlath's tent and... Well, it was unopenable. Vlath could sense something disturbing within it, but with such heavy chains going around it and with such a hefty padlock with no key - it was impossible to get open. For now, two lycan guarded it at all times.

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: 154 men, 142 women, 25 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, = 5%.
Morale: Rallying
Foreign relations:

- Ironeye Clan: Hated

The Orc-Grave Swamp Enclave

@Bright_Ops

Turn 6

Buddy, Trip and Gredy made a breakthrough! Two, even... But if it is of the same cause, is it still considered two breakthroughs or one? Two simultanious ones, perhaps? Bah, either way... While browsing the different fungi known to the swamps and caves, Trip had remarked on one "This one can't be eaten. No good for you. Might kill you, I think." and as he wasn't the smartest of Goblins he hadn't thought to tell Buddy that when he was looking into poisons.
"Ya kiddin' me?! Why didn't you tell me that earlier? I'll look into this at once!" Buddy said.
Trip simply remarked, a little taken aback that "You didn't ask me."
When Buddy pointed out that he did ask, Trip responded with a "You didn't ask me about this specific mushroom."
Facepalming aside, Buddy soon found that the mushroom, green and putrid but small in stature, could be used to create a slow poison that, when inflicted by it would slowly start to slow the victim's movements and reactions. Eventually, or in high enough doses, the victim could be rendered paralyzed for a smaller amount of time. Perfect for their needs!

Trip and Gredy also managed to pick out a few fungi that could be cultivated and grown both inside and outside the caves. As it starts yielding results, Gredy is sure this will boost their food supplies.

[Food improving next turn.]

Is the swamp whispering to me...? Fumble thought. Or is it merely the voice through which our fallen comrades speak to us?
Such philosophical questions were not common among goblinkind. Mostly, goblins worked through methods of quantity - a problem needs solving so you solve it through facts, tools and whatever is objectively needed to complete the task. But this? This is different. There was no answer, no truth to behold or fact to observe. There was no objective theorem, just subjective discussion and conversation with other fellow goblins. It was a matter of belief, not fact.
"Why do you doubt?" said a voice.
"I don't know..." answered Fummy. "I just wish someone would tell me the answer!
"Maybe you haven't asked the right question." the voice said.
Fumble turned around to face whoever had spoken to him, but there was nobody there. It was just him, alone on the porch of his treehouse in the outpost above the swamps.
"H... Hello?" Fumble called out.
No answer.
"Who's there?" he tried again.
"That's a better question." the voice said.
Fumble turned around again, thinking the sound had come from thin air behind him... Always behind him. But no matter where he looked, there was no goblin speaking to him.
"Answer me! Who's there! Show yourself-"
Barely had Fumble finished his demand when a shimmering shape lit up in front of him. A wisp, a ball of fluttering light with eyes, ears, nose and a mouth. It had features of a goblin, but... It was no goblin.
He was struck silent at the sight.
"See? Come face to face with the truth and you no longer know what question is most important. As if it mattered. As if you could only ask one question." the wisp spoke.
"Who the hell are you?!" Fumble managed to exclaim.
"I'm the swamp." said the wisp.
"You're... The swamp? But... what?"
"Once again, I answer your question with fact and instead of accepting it as truth, immediately your initial question is replaced by a dozen more. This is why the swamp does not often speak to it's denizens, Fumble." said the wisp.
"How do you know my name?" asked Fumble.
"I am the swamp. I hear and feel and see all that happens within my domain. I have heard your friends call you by name many times. In fact, I know all their names too."
"But... But how?"
"Not many who come here are like you. Not many who come here seek to make their life within my range. Only brute beast and other creatures doomed to die. But not you. You came, and while most of you left some of you stayed."
Fumble was struck silent once more.
"Most come here to conquer me - but I do not allow them. They perish in my waters or sink in the mud. But you have not sought to conquer me - you have sought to make your life here. You make houses out of my trees - gather food from the beasts who dwell here. I have come to accept you."
"Why... Why are you telling me this? Nobody's going to believe me. I don't even know if I believe it myself." said Fumble.
The wisp fluttered away behind a tree, then came back. A small stone was dropped in front of Fumble's feet. Small roots covered it, and it was green-tinted from moss and other flora. It hummed with a shimmering light, much like the wisp itself. Funnily enough, Fumble couldn't quite describe it's color... The stone and the wisp, it was like it was all colors at once, yet none.
He blinked his eyes, making sure he wasn't hallucinating. Maybe he had eaten some bad mushroom.
"What's... this?" he managed to ask.
"The stone of the swamp. With it, you can call upon me wherever you are. Gather your kin, your comrades and any who would want to listen. Tell them the swamp has a voice and it wishes to speak to all of you. Tell them this, then call upon me with the stone, and I shall come and answer your questions."
"But... I..." Fumble started, but the wisp was gone. Evaporated into thin air.
The sounds of wildlife in the swamps resumed in Fumble's ears. What the hell had just happened...?

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: 276 men, 279 women, 86 children.

(54 of adult population is of Blackskin Goblin descent)

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

Clan Metalbeard

@Lauder

Turn 5

"I, err... I'm sorry 'bout earlier." said Forogh Gloombelly to Ava Shieldbreaker as they journeyed up the mountain. "Dunnae worry." answered Ava bluntly, still holding her eyes set forward.
Forogh looked back at the other companions and shrugged. They exchanged glances, but said nothing.
"Up ahead." said Ava.
The air had gotten cold. Frost had begun to spread across the rocks and the grass and any wayward tree. Up ahead was an alcove, an arch of natural rock making a sort of entryway to the top of the mountain.
The strange thing was that the path up to the mountain was very well defined, as if it had been artificially made but eroded over time. Indeed it seemed that was the case when further up, the company came to the archway. Stone steppes made their way up to the peak easier.



Once through the cold archway, the peak of the mountain was like a crater. Cliff walls welled up on each side with no roof, and up ahead, on the side opposite of the dwarves, was a rock pedestal. No... It was a tomb. The lid of the tomb depicted a dwarven King, and on the short side facing them was a small plaque of bronze. It was engraved with ancient dwarven runes, but the Ironbeards could read them.

The Tomb

"This is it." said Ava. "This is what the spirits has called upon me to show us."
Ava walks up to the tomb and reads the plaque outloud.

Here lies Daelin Whitebeard the first, the Indominable, the Great, the Father of our Clan. May his spirit forever watch over his kin from his mighty resting place. May his axe and hammer forever guide his way through the afterlife.

Grogrim and the others came to stand around the tomb, inspecting it while Ava read. When she was done, everyone looked around. The plaque spoke of an axe and a hammer. If this was the tomb of Daelin Whitebeard, the father of the Whitebeard Clan, his weapons were bound to be legendary.
"Over there!" Forogh called out, pointing to a patch of disturbed snow further away. Grogrim and Ava ran up to what looked like the shaft of an axe or a hammer, and dug it out of the snow. They used their weapons to crush the ice that encrusted it stuck to the ground, and that's when they saw what the weapon was stuck to.
Daelin's mighty axe was embedded in the skeleton of a dwarf. Next to it, another skeleton layed, grasping the broken pieces of what could have once been a hammer. Ava gasped and took a step backwards, stepping onto something that made a loud cracking sound. The entire company looked down, and a wind whipped up the thinnest layer of snow that covered the ground.
Dwarven skeletons lay scattered across the entire tomb area, from the archway to the tomb itself, to the edges, upon every rock and cliff. A fierce battle had been fought here, dwarf against dwarf, that had seen the end of the Whitebeard Clan. Daelin's hammer had been smashed to pieces in the fighting, and the axe had been lost here, frozen in the snow. Until now.

Ava looked at Grogrim, shock and horror in her eyes. The other dwarves were also visably upset at the sight of a dwarven massacresight, and the truth that it held. What was to be done with Daelin's mighty Axe, the last heirloom of the Whitebeards?

Daelin's Axe, Thunderslayer

-

Back home, mining operations resumed. With old tools and whatever supplies the dwarves could scrape together, the miners ventured deep into the ground. At first, they found only exhausted veins that they had already mined years ago. But soon, as they delved deep, iron ore once again could be harvested from the mountain.

[Iron resource added.]

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: 102 men, 100 women, 28 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: Below Average
Resources: Iron.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 4% -1% from food level = 4%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

The Elven Enclave

@ArisenMoon No post found. Auto dropout: 2/3

Turn 5

With the elves' magic not working, manual foodproduction had to be expanded upon. However, rumours had spread fast and now everyone knew of the spear Saleian had brought back to the settlement. While not many knew of the whole undead deal, elves began noticing Saleian's worry after he ordered new warriors be trained and all expeditions be guarded at all times by no less than three elves-at-arms. Some had begun to think Saleian was just paranoid, seeing as they didn't know he suspected undead foes may lurk somewhere.

[Food level settled at Average.]

The pathfinders that were sent to find the source of the spear went to the place where the wilder drake had been found. It was no longer there, and where its' blood had been spilled was now a patch of verdant green grass with flowers of many colors. The beast's blood had fertilized the soil of the earth to an extraordinary level. They travelled further west, where the grass became less green. First it became yellow like fields of grass often do, but then it became gray and scarred. It seemed the further west they travelled, the less wildlife they encountered. They prepared for the worst, but nothing happened. Suddenly, an elf foot stepped on something. It cracked and broke, and when the elf looked on his foot he saw that he had stepped on a bone. The entire party stopped and looked around. They all spotted the dead in the grass. Skeletons of warriors long dead, barely even dust left. If these were undead, they would pose no threat, for they all missed important parts to be able to move. Their armor and weaponry however was strange and foreign to the elves. They had never seen it before. The bones were those of dead humans, but the elves had never met a culture like this. Strange.

The dead warriors' armor

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: 98 men, 101 women, 22 children.
Military: 5 Elves-at-arms. Currently training 10 recruits. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
Food level: Average
Resources: None.
Wealth: Nonexistant.
Trade: Nonexistant.
Growth: Base: 4% +0% from food level, +0% from morale = 4%.
Morale: Indifferent
Foreign relations: You have not met any other civilizations.

Dominion of Commorragh

@Asura No post found. 1/3

Turn 1

As the weathered cog neared the shore, there was suddenly a horrific scrape. The wine-dark waves had concealed jagged rocks below. By such bad fortune, the ship's underbelly was breached and it began to take on water. There was no choice now, the dark elves would have to make their landing on the shore here.

To protect what remained of the cargo, the sailors brought the ship through the rocks and eventually beached it. There was no chance at making it seaworthy again anytime soon, but at least it was now in shallow enough water to not become submerged in at high tide. In short order the supplies in the lower hold were brought up to the deck or onto the beach, waterlogged but mostly still usable. As in for the ruined cog itself, it retained some use: it could make for a good starting shelter before structures could be built on the land, or perhaps a fine source of firewood.

A noble stepped up to Aurelia's side, one of the few that stayed faithful to her rule. In all the chaos that had just unfolded he had slipped from the Archoness' mind, but now she remembered that he had came to advise her. Who was he, again?

A) Commander Modyn, a fine warrior who could rival Drezhar in personal combat yet surpass him and all others as a military tactician. In the past Modyn's retinue saw countless victories against the barbarians and rebels, and whilst little of it survived the fall, given time Modyn could build a new force just as formidable.

B) Apothecary Garan, a sharp scholar with a dozen treatises to his name and extensive knowledge of herbalism, medical procedures, and even some forms of magic. His talents would be useful for any growing colony, not to mention his sage counsel.

C) Tivam the Shadowmage, more a rogue than traditional sorcerer. He used his talents to serve the nation as an assassin, tracker, spy, and ranger; however, there were always those that suspected him of being a criminal mastermind that only served in name. A few such whisperers went missing.

Upon closer examination, there are some signs of activity upon the island. The beach has a few pieces of flotsam that were not natural, and there are some signs of hunting and logging taking place in limited amounts at some point in the past. All this points to the possibility of civilization somewhere up or down the shoreline, or perhaps on a nearby island. Some voices are eager to explore the surroundings, but there are other initial actions that could be taken.

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, 30 children.
Livestock: None.
Military: No standing military. 30% of population can be drafted as militia.
Food level: Minimal
Resources: None
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 4% -2% from food level, +0% from morale = 2%.
Morale: Average
Foreign relations:

- You know of no other civilization.

Tuatha de Cu

@Brithwyr

Turn 1

Now that Brehin Ior ap Cu has been proclaimed ruler, much will change for his people. He has grand visions and many ideas, the first of which is an end to their eternal wandering. It would be a welcome respite for weary feet to finally find a place to settle for the forseeable future and build a city.

Since the Cait Sith arrived in the jungle not so long ago, they have wandered the lush expanse and attained a general understanding of the lay of the land that they now call theirs. A small stream starts in the mountains to the west, somewhere north up the range, and flows almost due east between the trees, then cuts to the south and divides the jungle into two. By the point that it snakes into the middle of the jungle, it's wide enough that the word stream no longer does it justice. At that point, the sides of the river are especially lush and many fruits grow by its banks. There's also an abundance of fish.

Other than that, it is hard to describe the endless verdant carpet that is the jungle. There are hills and flat parts, places where the trees are sparse enough that patches of sunlight touch the ground and places where the thickets are so dense that the forest floor perpetually rests in the darkness of night. It is easy to get lost, or wander about in circles. Many Cait Sith have wandered off alone or in small groups, and when they return (if they ever do!) they often speak of strange and wondrous places. But when they try to lead their brethren to the sites, more oft than not it proves impossible for them to rediscover what they had previously seen. Such is the nature of this jungle.

But nonetheless, in their wanderings your trailblazers and scouts have discovered at least two places of interest that they were able to chart and locate a second time. One of them was a small, secluded, and well-hidden grotto that contained a small passageway leading to much larger cave system. It is deep below the ground, but not so deep that there aren't a few great roots that hang from above alongside the massive stalactites. The cavernous expanse seemed to stretch on and on, and within it was a subterranean lake fed by hot springs. The air is slightly humid, but also comfortably cool. It's hard to say how large the cavern might be, for the Cait Sith certainly haven't mapped it yet or explored much of its depths, but there was certainly enough space down there for all of them to live with room to spare.

The second place of interest was a great open, grassy expanse left inexplicably clear. Despite being deep within the jungle, the dense wall of forest seems unwilling to expand even an inch farther into the clearing. But beyond mere grass, the clearing also has many mossy boulders and smaller stones. In the middle is one massive stone with a lone, scraggly tree crowning it. The tree's roots cannot breach the boulder's solid stone, so they wrap about it like a cage and go all the way down to stretch into soil beneath it. At night, there are thousands of glowflies that congregate in this clearing, especially about that strange tree in the middle. By both night and day, it seems as though the place is sacred and a magic is in the air.

The Brehin already has a name in mind for the city of Tuatha de Cu-- they would call it Fyfe. But now, the question remains: where shall they choose to settle? The cavhoose to settle?

A) We shall build Fyfe upon the banks of the river that runs through the middle of the jungle, giving us a source of fresh water, potential access to the sea, and the means of sustaining ourselves through fishing and foraging from this prime and central location.

B) We shall build Fyfe inside the cavernous expanse that our scout found. There we shall be safe from whatever beasts may lurk in the jungle and well hidden from any more intelligent sort of monster. The cool air and warm springs will also do wonders for our fur.

C) We shall build Fyfe in the small clearing, where there is some sunlight and space to be had but also plenty of dense jungle around to offer nature's bounty. There are plenty of rocks laying about, which is a boon. With some effort we will be able to use the largest boulders to erect a stone wall, and the smaller ones to pave roads or perhaps build houses. Perhaps a few can even be left as is so that there will be nice places to bathe in the sun.

Population: 120 tomcats, 120 queens, 40 kittens.
Livestock: None.
Military: No standing military. 20% of population can be drafted as militia.
Food level: Minimal
Resources: None
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 5% -2% from food level, +0% from morale = 3%.
Morale: Average
Foreign relations:

- You know of no other civilization.

Kingdom of Alimor

@Chenzor

Turn 1

Glad to once more have sacred clay beneath their feet instead of the briny planks of their ships, the Alimorians eagerly constructed a crude settlement from which to base their operations for now, then took the horizons and began surveying the closest parts of their new land. They took note of the various lakes, ponds, and sparse thickets of trees on the plains, but for now they did not venture into the forest or the mountains, nor did they travel too far south. For such journeys, more preparation would be required.

As the morn turned to noon and the sun began its slow descent, most of the scouts returned to the humble camp that they had named Ehrendal. They told their king of what they had seen, and Keltheron listened carefully as he weighed and considered where they might later build their capital. As the day stretched on and night approached, the last few scouts returned. All except for one.

It was not until well after night had already fallen that the camp's sentries saw him, just as talk of sending out search parties had began. The crimson-cloaked warrior spared not a moment for rest and reported directly to Keltheron, having claimed to have journeyed several leagues and nearly made his way to the mountains in just that one day.

Something had compelled him onwards, and so he had pushed himself and walked tirelessly. When he had at last arrived, he had seen a great weathered obelisk in the shadow of a small grove of trees.

The scout and the obelisk

From his obvious exhaustion, the tale is perhaps not so far fetched. They do what is natural, and after permitting the scout to rest for the night, the King-Mage Keltheron and a small party have the scout lead them to this strange monolith. As they walk, they too eventually begin to feel its presence compelling them onwards. When they find the small grove of trees near where the grasslands give way to the easterly mountains, the obelisk is there just as the scout had described.

It is surely ancient, for the pyramidal top of has crumbled, a beard of moss hung from the monument, and many of the runes engraved upon it had all but worn away completely. Even so, it matters little, for the runes were meaningless to the Alimorians anyways; however, the power trapped within the obelisk was not. Gifted with magic, they could hear what the monument had to say. As Keltheron listened and stared closer at the alien glyphs, he slowly began to discern their meaning.

"...and when the first prophet Zanaam was shown the way to this blessed land, he gazed up to the Heavenly Above that had guided his flock, and to It Zanaam offered..."

The rest of it was still gibberish. Perhaps it had simply weathered away too much, or perhaps the obelisk had not willed him to glean whatever other words had been carved upon it.

It seemed that King-Mage Keltheron was the only one that had been capable of reading the engravings. All the others simply complained of hearing strange whispers and of headaches, so they soon began to make their way back to Ehrendal. Keltheron was left with the decision of to do now, as well as the decision on whether or not he would even tell his people what he had read upon it.

A) Obey the obelisk: Just like this ancient named Zanaam, we must present a great offering to the god that shaped us from clay and delivered us to this place. To do anything less would be blasphemy and surely bring ruin unto their people. We shall worship this obelisk too, for surely it is of divine making.
B) Study the obelisk: Perhaps this stone was merely built by others like us, but there still might be secrets we can learn from it. We shall send our brightest minds, theologian and arcanists alike, to study the obelisk in detail and determine the truth.
C) Destroy the obelisk: We shall destroy this strange stone. Its words are meaningless and its power potentially harmful if left unchecked. It is time that the Kingdom of Alimor stands on its own, and to achieve that ends perhaps we will even be able to siphon some of this stone's power and harness it into something that would serve us.
X) Other

Population: 120 men, 120 women, 40 children.
Livestock: None.
Military: No standing military. 20% of population can be drafted as militia.
Food level: Minimal
Resources: None
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 5% -2% from food level, +0% from morale = 3%.
Morale: Average
Foreign relations:

- You know of no other civilization.

[Brithwyr]

Tuatha de Cu

Rise.

That's what the spirits said. They needed to rise.

"But what does that mean? What are they telling us to do?"

The druids were, as usual, vaguer than a vague thing. "They just told us to rise. Nothing else."

The Brehin groaned into his paws. To rise. What could they mean by that? Was it a warning, a threat, just some helpful advice? Was it the manifestation of their destiny, or just some helpful guidance?

The people were getting antsy, and simply telling them to "rise" wouldn't do much to qualm their fears. No, no, he needed something more substantial than that.

With the druid's advice in mind, the Brehin made the decision to settle by...

A) The River

The Tuatha is tired, dirty and thirsty. Without access to clean water, they will surely die of thirst. The waters can also be used for cleaning - Cait Sith HATED being dirty. Perhaps in the future, they could expand up and down the river but for now, the priority was holding somewhere with safe, clean water. The running water would also dissuade hostile spirits from attacking.

[Chenzor]

The Kingdom of Alimor

As the others turned their capes and left, Keltheron stood, still gazing at the big obelisk. "Magborne." he called out. One of his companions stopped and turned around to him again. "Yes, King-Mage?" the yellow-cloaked mage responded. When Keltheron did not say anything else, Magborne approached him. "What's bothering you, my King?" she said. Keltheron finally turned to face his trusted advisor.

Keltheron

"We were not first to this land, it seems. The ruins of past civilization stand before us, yet for it's seeming grandeur and power, whoever erected this monument is long gone now... Will we meet the same fate, I wonder?" Keltheron spoke solemnly.
"No." Magborne said, unwavering. "We are born and gifted by the God of Magic. We are the chosen, led by the greatest King-Mage who has ever been crowned. We will not fall into ruin."
Keltheron smiled. Perhaps Magborne is right, or perhaps she is simply exalted in his pressence.
"Whatever destiny is to be ours, we shall meet it at the best of our abilities." Keltheron said and placed his hand upon the surface of the obelisk. Magborne could feel the hum of magic in the air changing.
"What are you doing, Keltheron?!" she exclaimed.
"Claiming what is now ours."

Then, he destroyed the obelisk.

C) Destroy the obelisk.

[Pyromaniacwolf]

The Lycan Covenant

Vlath was amused by the weakness of the Ogre prisoners. Their bodies may have strength to rival a lycan but their spirit was weak, Goldtooth admitted he had been disappointed in their weak wills, it mattered little, they had extracted useful information from them.

Now that he was aware of the locations of the forces around the area, he could plan accordingly. First, Vlat met with Grash as he examined his new set of ogre armour (he had naturally been given a set as he was one of the most capable fighters in the covenant). "If we had this equipment during our first encounter with the ogres we would have crushed them, I am sure of it" he said to the voidcaller as he entered the tent. Vlath nodded in agreement before giving his orders "There are more ogre factions to the north. I am inclined to believe they have not discovered us yet. You and the Goldtooths will work to fortify the settlement from all sides using the resources and manpower at your disposal. Focus your men to west, where an attack from the Ironeye's is most likely. Kill any attackers without remorse, strip them of their armor and bring the survivors to the ritual site." After Grash gave a bow to Vlath, he left the tent to find Mexi.

Mexi was by the elk pens, skinning one of the beasts and having her hunters carry the rest of the carcass off,presumably to a cooking pot on one of the fires. Vlath cared little for what she was doing and spoke "You and your hunters are to begin stalking the Ironeye camps at night. Do not enter them unless you see an opportunity to strike a blow to them, simply kill those who wander too far from their camp and flee if they attempt hunt you down. If you are unable to move east back towards Wulfhelm, move further west and into follow the mountain back around to the settlement. Do not stray from the mountain to the coast or you may come into contact with one of the other ogre factions that inhabit the coast. Take what weapons you need but the armor will slow you down. Remember that speed and the shadows are your weapon, the ogres are slow brutes unfit to chase you down. The Gods will watch over you on this task." he said to her, Mexi nodded solemnly at the voidcaller. This was perhaps the riskiest mission she had been asked to undertake but she would never make her Silentpaws perform a task she herself would not do. She would lead one of the hunts every week herself. With his will carried out, Vlath returned to his tent and this damned chest. He would dedicate what time he had outside of training his new priesthood to finding out what was inside.

Summary

Grash and Goldtooth are going to fortify the settlement with a focus on the side from which the Ironeyes would most likely invade from
Mexi and her Silentpaws will begin performing nightly raids on the Ironeye's territory , picking off any small groups that may leave the village at night, the Silenpaws will also likely kill animals in the surrounding area and feast on the corpses,leaving an unpleasant sight and smell for any nearby ogres.
Vlath is still trying to figure out what's in the damn box.

[Cyclone]

The Iceborn

---

B) Improve Military Technology

With great knowledge came great sorrow. It was a heavy burden for Dag to bear, knowing the true extent of the Deep Ones' strength and just how close their horrid enemy lurked, but he thanked Father Frost still. He would find a way to avenge the fallen and defeat the endless hordes of fish-men; however, Dag was not his son.

He knew that brute force and trying a direct attack would only lead to glorious death, whilst inaction would lead to another assault by the Deep Ones and a less glorious death. But whereas Kjorn longed only for the sort of strength that a man used to rip apart his enemies and leave them in gory heaps, Father Frost saw other sorts of strength: it had taken no small amount of guile, wisdom, and cruelty for the Iceborn to achieve all that they had in their past.

And it would take all of that to think of a way to defeat so many monsters. Dag pondered the issue until long into the night. When sleep evaded his weary mind even as the next day's morning drew close, he turned to mead so as to take what little sleep he still could. It was in that drunken, half-awake delirium that he finally saw a vision of roaring flames reflected upon the salty waves where the sea met with the daggercliffs. Then, he looked up and witnessed a conflagration the likes of no other; as if coaxed by magic, vicious flames had spread across everything and even bleak stone was aflame. The Deep Ones gurgled and let loose horrific screams as they dove fromthe cliffs into the water below in an attempt to extinguish the fires that consumed their scaly flesh, but it was all in vain--the sea itself was soon aflame!

They all burned, and then there came a light snow. There was nothing left of the beasts save their blackened, charred bones amidst pallid snow.

This was the answer: fire. Dag knew not how he would harness a power that only dragons could wield, but he knew that was what he must do. He was Sard reborn in the flesh, the fire giant incarnate, but with his burning sword he would defend the land of men and not some fiery hell.

Without another thought, Dag left his mead hall. The moment that he threw open the doors and stepped out into the midday sun, a messenger approached. "My king, I bear news from your son!"

"Speak, then!" Dag gruffly answered back, none too pleased for being distracted from his new work for even a moment.

The man told him of what had happened at the grove and of what they had learned from torturing the gilbin that Sigdar had seized; it seemed that there were even more skraelings and beasts in this strange land, and that the Iceborn now had two new foes: the vile swamp gilbins, and the savage blood trolls. But they were neither here nor there; they were both distant for now and paled in comparison to the looming threat of the Deep Ones' return, so Dag plotted nothing; answering those new enemies would fall to Sigdar and Kjorn's Chosen.

For Dag's destiny called, and he had to become a dragon! In obsessive secret, he set about quickly gathering all the swamp tar, pitch, wood pulp, charcoal, brimstone, niter, and concentrated mead that he could find. He mixed them together into strange concoctions and testing their volatility one by one, seeking the perfect formula with which to create that magical fire from his visions. When supplies began to dwindle, he ordered more gathered and continued his work.

Meanwhile, the workers in the shipyard set aside all other projects and began the making of one giant vessel to lead the small fleet that the tribe already had built. For a fortnight the smithy worked too; at their king's bequeath, they forged a gigantic dragon's head that was to serve as the figurehead upon the prow of this new flagship. Every fierce and cruel detail was ornate, but what was truly strange were the king's requests that the dragon's throat be a hollowed tube that could pump from a tank and its head capable of swiveling when pulled by ropes.

Iceborn

-Dag goes crazy for a while and has visions of harnessing the power of magical fire to incinerate all the Deep Ones. He begins mixing swamp tar, pine resin, pitch, brimstone, saltpeter, the strongest mead they have, and all sorts of other 'fiery' things in an attempt to make what's basically Greek fire.
-The Iceborn are building a huge ship to lead their fleet, and by Dag's command it has the iron likeness of a dragon's gaping maw for the figurehead on the prow. The dragon's mouth itself is a pump that leads to a tank where Dag intends to store whatever napalm mixture he can concoct, and they're working on a mechanism to ignite the stream of Greek fire.
-Meanwhile, Sigdar gets information tortured out of Trapper and the grove's events back to Dagshall. Dag entrusts Sigdar to deal with the Blood Trolls and swamp gilbins.

[Kangutso]

Clan Oreborn

We got the beast... now what?

It wouldn't take long at all for many of the dwarves to find out about the tamed beast, so it wasn't surprising that Arngir would come to see it himself. Upon his asking who was responsible for it, he then asked where they were, to which the reply was, "After some long rest, you just missed them. They've already set out to find more of them." Well, that was a missed chance, but there would be more. However, they needed a place to hold the... 'greater boars' as some decided to call them for simplicity's sake. So, Arngir tasked some dwarves with building a strong, large pen for the beasts to reside in before leaving to take care of other tasks himself.

Religious Inquiry

Religion was a bit of a foreign concept to the dwarves, as such beliefs were not allowed for slaves. Echadon would explain this, and further go on to say that whenever their was a hint of religious belief in a dwarven slave, the entire group was executed. And as they had been slave for so long, whatever knowledge they had of their own beleifs was lost.

Once done, Echadon would then ask about the Ursar religion and beliefs, what his people worshiped and many other questions of that sort.

Summary

-A large and strong pen is to be made for the newly tamed beast, with room for more to fit in comfortably.
-Echadon expresses his wishes to learn about the religion of the Ursar as telling of what happened to their own.

[Bright_Ops]

The Orc-Grave Swamp Enclave

The Outpost

It took a while, but thanks largely in part to the Heart of the Swamp that had been gifted to him, Fumble was able end the argument between the two factions that had formed in the settlement; However, rather then claim that those who had believed that the spirits of their family and friends who had died were speaking them were wrong, Fumble offered an idea to try and appease the Spiritualists so that they could all be united again and stop the arguments. Logically, since the Swamp was made up of everything in the swamp then that meant that the friends and loved ones who had died there had become apart of the spirit of the Swamp as well... even if they only consisted of a drop in a much, much larger pool now.

Therefore, the Spiritualists hadn't been wrong; the Spirits of their people were still offering wisdom and guidance, but they were doing so as apart of the Spirit of the Swamp rather then as themselves.

...........................................

The Conclave

Poisons were being brewed, moss and mushrooms were growing... and for the first time in a long time, Gredy allowed himself a little bit of time to sit down and rest. The fungi farms hadn't even yielded their first crop yet and they were already looking promising; For the first time since... well, ever, there was going to be enough food for all of them. The idea that no one was going to starve for a change... it was novel and occasionally he had to pinch himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming.

Now with a steady food supply secured, it was time to work on other projects. The bridges suspended up in the tree branches to connect the Conclave proper to the Outpost that they had first taken shelter in so that there was relatively safe, speedy movement between the two settlements had been put underway. Some of the scouts that had been deemed to green to go on the expedition out of the Swamp had been already ordered to scout out a route and pass along any messages between the Conclave and the Outpost while other goblins gathered together supplies in order to actually build the thing. It would certainly be the biggest project that the goblins had committed themselves to since they had claimed their freedom, but even as he dozed off for a nap Gredy felt they would be up to the task.

................................................

The Scouting Expedition.

While their leader had been lost, after the scouts had gathered together again a vote was quickly passed to continue their mission; They were to scout out the backstabbing Iceborn and locate their holdings and targets for assault and that was what they were going to do.

[Pirate]

The Children of Artemon

C) Arronax brought the mineral before the council. He described its properties and made his suggestions for its use - for tools, weapons or idols. The matter concerned everyone and was put to a vote, which split the council. Those dwelling outside the safety of the walls as well as Halwen the Black were strongly in favour of making weapons out of it, the various guild leaders of Duinmelamar advocated for it to be turned into tools, while Craftspriest Aleon was the main proponent of further investigating the mineral's mysterious properties and turning it into objects of worship. As neither side dominated, they turned to Aleon for compromise, which finally caused Halwen to protest.

"You would have us waste this precious resource on yet more idols, priest? We are not living under the protection of Horith, we are alone in this strange land and we would be fools to squander this gift. Let us turn it into arms, that we may find safety again."

"Do not insult the gods, Halwen. Their powers are far beyond our own and they are our greatest hope."

"We will not find salvation in old tomes. The gods have given us the strength to save ourselves and we must use it. They will not send thunderbolts to save us from invaders, nor do we know if your hopes of reviving old sorceries will result in anything more than a charred corpse. Duinmelamar demonstrated well enough that we are on our own."

"At Duinmelamar we were lost and alone. Now we have the opportunity to once more join with the divine. The path you argue for is a dark one, by making our people into warriors you risk putting them into his service. Magic guarded us before and it will do so again. Do not make people reinterpret your epithet in pursuit of your ambitions. You're no king, your authority stems only from our support."

Halwen looked as if he were about to burst from the implied threat, but saw that the room was siding with Aleon and kept his silence as the vote passed for the silversteel to be dedicated to the gods. They held hopes of being able to find out more about the properties of the mineral and perhaps how to extract it more efficiently, but most of it would go into the temple.

-------

The white oak was eagerly accepted and plans were made for large parts of the temple, especially the exterior, to be made out of it. Blue and white were the colours of their homeland and they wished for nothing more than to recreate it as best they could.

Hider

Turn the silversteel into idols, try to investigative its properties, use white oak for the temple

[Lauder]

Clan Metalbeard

F) Improve resources/technology

---

The axe, it seemed like something that the very spirits themselves and it seemed whatever was here had called Ava to the mountain. While Grogrim wanted the axe for himself, it was clear that the spirits had chosen Ava to bear the axe, granted there may have been some right that he had to the old axe to prove his legitimacy or something, but that wasn’t the dwarf that he was. With a sigh he picked up the axe and flipped it in his hand, the handle facing Ava. She looked at him with a confused face before Grogrim let out a light-hearted laugh.

“I believe the spirits want to give this to you,” he spoke, Ava’s face shifting to surprise at the offer.

“M’lord… I-I can’t, that axe belongs t’ you royals,” she protested before Grogrim essentially thrust the handle into her hands, forcing her to take it. The other dwarves looked on in awe at the display, tears being brought to Ava’s face at Grogrim’s act of kindness. However, now was not the time for tears, for they all still had a task to complete.

“We will continue north once more, if we cannot find something soon then we will double back to the Glimmering Mountain,” Grogrim ordered, turning back to the group, “We will bury these dwarves though. Give them a proper burial before we depart.”

And with that the group had their orders.

---

Back home with the mines now reopened and bringing in a new influx of ores to supplement their new creation of proper forms for the spirit. The dwarves would need a refinery to well, refine the ores into a better material, something more comfortable and cleansed for the spirits to bless them with. It would be a task, but the dwarves would be able to easily construct this, afterall a refined spirit was more easily tempered than one simply taken from the ground. Both Black-hand and the Council were in agreement over the subject, a rare occurrence given both parties hated each other.

Black-hand would oversee the construction of the refinery and the council would work to make into more of a temple with grand luxurious design on the interior so that the spirits may be properly honored.

It seemed that the spirits were smiling upon the dwarves lately.

Summary

The party buries that dwarves and continues their venture north.

The dwarves at home agree to construct a Shrine Refinery to better improve the strength of the spirits so that they may bless the clan further.