Exactly a hundred years have passed since the continent of Helaeth saw a new influx of peoples arrive. Like most who find their way to these lands, these peoples were lost or fleeing. Some did not survive. Actually, most civilizations seeded upon the continent has faded away, failing the test of time. Some still stand. Some are too young to be deemed a success or failure.
And then the calamity came.
One fateful night, as the peoples looked up into the night sky, they found it absent of cloud. A myriad of stars lit up the dark beyond this world, but there was something else missing. Something important. At first, it came as a long rain of stairs, shooting across the sky, visable from every corner of Helaeth. "Where is the moon?" most sentient beings asked as they witnessed the lights in the sky. Soon, they would receive the horrible answer to the question as the moon slowly crept into view. It was distorted, broken into a thousand pieces like a piece of glass. The pieces that fell from it became the shooting 'stars' that now rained across the sky.
And then ... The pieces of the moon came upon Helaeth.
Fragments of the once beautiful body in the sky began to hail all over the continent. Every night for ten years the skies lit up with the falling of fragments upon the world, and every year at least one piece was big enough to land upon the ground in a fiery explosion. Some pieces wiped out entire villages, some reduced entire mountains to dust, but eventually the raining of stairs seized. Every few years, another fragment would find it's way down to the continent, in less of a destructive entrance, but powerful nonetheless.
As the peoples and civilizations of Helaeth began to inspect the pieces left behind, they realized the lunar fragments held intense magical power. They were scarce, but became a valuable resource. With it, anyone could wield magic and shape the fragment into whatever they wanted. However, this power was finite and after a while the fragment faded away into dust. As such, the hunt for Lunarite as it became known as intensified, and entire civilizations went to war, rose and fell over the craze for this new resource. After a hundred years however, the craze has ended. Lunarite still exists, and still fall from the heavens every few years, but the initial wake of fire that consumed so many peoples has died down.
Now, a new wave of peoples find their way to Helaeth in one way or another. Some come from underground, most sail across the seas, some simply wake up in a new land with no knowledge of how they came here.
Dainerim groaned as he woke up to a fealing that was very similar to having his head banged against iron a hundred times. He remembered fighting the dragon before waking up somewhere, on a small clearing in a nearby forest, with trees looming taller. Than him. That thought however, brought him to think about Zaernoth Dainerim regreted ever moving forwards to face Zaernoth. The black dragon hadn't been so friendly, far from it indeed. With tail and a vicious flap of it's wings, he had been crushed against the wall into a barely recognized mess. Unsheathing his dagger, he stabbed at it's wings and with a roar, it tossed him into it's mouth and swallowd him hole. Not before he cut it's tongue with his frost sword, he made sure. It hadn't crunched him, he still had a bit of strength left. : The fight had been brief and it was clear the dragon had been stronger than him by a billion times. He had lost his daierin, which was a fire sword that could defeat the strongest fire crafted from the previous dragon lord's heart which held most of the fire it possessed. He was surprised to find his wounds gone, but better not to look a gift horse in the mouth, he guessed As he stood up again, he remembered where he was and glanced around calmly. He hadn't been happy the last time his soul had been tugged to another area, another place. But really, who cared? He would either die horably, get mangled somehow, or have some sort of thing happen to him. Stumbling as his heavy weight forced him down, he looked inside the large bag oddly hanging from his arms and banging against his stomach uncomfortably,, he saw his daierin, food, water, a peace of paper, and several other bags that held his armors and weaponry Willing for his daierin to get lighter, he felt better as the bag got noticeably lighter. The fire wouldn't be activated until he willed it, but with a strong enough wind or a strong enough jet of water, it would extinguish.
As he stood up and started scouting the area, he noticed a large boar charging through the area towards a panicked looking short person that yelled as he saw him. Going still, he moved as close as he dared to the boar and put his daierin right into it's back. It grunted, falling back and slamming him to the ground. With a small grunt, he rolled to the side and stood up As the short man looked at him, he asked guardedly, "Is there a nearby town?"
Breathing a hollow sigh of relief as he casually flicked his wrist to spray a line of red across his cabin floor, Lord Silverpine's unnaturally glowing blue gaze watched the broken bundle of meat and blood squelch on the wooden floorboards. With the red mist fading from his mind, the warlord tilted his head to the side as the bloodthirsty thrill faded into a neutral expression as he inspected the fruit of his labor. The corpse had, before undergoing Lord Silverpine's administrations, been one of the humans that they had picked up during the raid on the West Port Docks.
While abducting people had not been originally part of the plan to steal some ships to take to the seas, a quick review during the trek to West Port of his followers had reveled a truth that needed to be addressed: None of his followers had ever sailed on the open sea before. Since the entire point of taking to the seas was to land on a far distant shore, securing some experienced seamen proved to be rather vital to their future efforts... so when they were raiding the port, securing some experience crewmen was added to the list of things that needed to be taken intact during the battle.
Of course, as was generally the case when it came to raiding parties, more was taken then was strictly needed. A number of people had been 'conscripted' that had no prior experience with the arts of sailing. Some of them had skills that would be useful for their new home and thus the fact that they could contribute nothing to the trip was excusable, but there were a handful that had no skills useful to the Regency at all... well, not many.
Ever since he had transcended mortality to become a knight of death, death and bloodshed were apart of Lord Siverpine's very being. While the living needed things like food and water in order to survive, Jasper hungered for the destruction of others like a man would desire a well cooked leg of lamb. In this regard, men like the former mayor of West Port proved their worth by stating his hunger without him having to start hacking into either a loyal follower or one of the pressed ganged crew members required for the functioning of the ship. Plus, the occasional torturous murder served as a wonderful motivational tool for those members of his crews who hadn't originally come onto the ships willingly.
That said, useless sacks of meat were starting to be in short supply. As Jasper finally reached for a cloth to wipe down his blade to clean it of blood, his head perked up as he heard a cry from up in the raven's nest.
The landing site was dead ahead as the three small ships, made with wood stained dark and their shadows imposing as small rowboats were lowered into the shallower waters and sent with them those who would start the first colony in the name of the West Underwood Trading Company. The dark elves moved quickly, however, even when they breached the waves, none moved except for one, shrouded in a dark cloak with her white hair pushed to one side. This was Lord-Trader Haelee Hune, the lady who had been charged with founding not only a new trade post, but establishing a stepping stone for more conquest in the name of the Underwood. Such a task brought a smile upon her face as her metal boots hit the wet sand.
Another dark elf brought her a flag bearing the blackened crow, to which Haelee had taken within a greedy smile. Others offloaded the rowboats, once emptied, the small craft were pushed back into the waters and made way back to the ships. Haelee, looked into the the treeline ahead of them before she stabbed the banner into the sand in front of them, the land now belonged to the Underwood and as such belonged to dark, all-seeing eyes of the Oracle. There was a moment of silence amongst the preliminary landing party as the Lord-Trader turned to them, reaching her hand forward and a male dressed in servant’s clothes walked forwards and handed her the handle of her blade, pushing it out ever so slightly.
Taking the blade from the scabbard, Haelee pointed the fine sword towards the treeline, still facing the landing party. ”We have claimed this land in the name of the company, Underwood, and in the name of the Oracle! A land still uncharted, rich with potential plunder from the land and potentially with slaves to be sold back to the mainland! Our venture her today will dictate the future of our employ and as such, I alone shall lead this charge with you, my assembly! In the name of the Oracle, the Empress, and the Magistrate we shall make this land into the crown jewel of the overseas!”
Her small motivational speech earned her a rousing round of applause, stroking the alrighty mighty ego of the Lord-Trader even further. She stepped towards the treeline as the next landing party began to disembark, the laborers and other necessary craftsmen they would need to survive. There would be little time to merely gaze into the unknown.
”Set up camp, tomorrow, we shall begin our conquest of this new land,” she ordered before looking back to the flag. Lord-Trader Haelee Hune would do all that she could in order to increase the profit of the company and show that this venture would not be in vain, though only the Oracle would know the future for them.
Hold your shivering, and draw close the blankets. Sit and be still, for here is how the world came to be.
In the beginning, there was nothing but void, fire, and water. In the vast sea of emptiness, its deep crystal depths was the realm called Nadania. It held nothing, and was nothing. To its north rushed sea, Agaelia. Its rough waves were bright as silver and foamed; heavy and salty it rushed west through Nadania. On the south of Nadania, there was the fire: Pyrosyna.
Nadania, though vast and shapeless offered no resistance to either fire or water, and both forces met. In a crash the universe was filled with a mighty volcanic roar as sea and fire met. The two forces fought one another in violent conflict. Splashed over and under one another in long suffering spasms and devouring. They battled up other one another. With waves of water and fire racing up and up. Waves rose like pillars into the dark sky, as the illumination of the sparks from Pyrosyna shot towards heaven with the screaming and yowling of fire works. In the mad chaos of their battle, the fire got the upper hand as the brilliance of its embers rose into the sky forming flares of stars whose light was hot and boiled the great seat away until it was steam and cloud that softly spread over the battlefield as it quieted and settled. In the wake of either combat were vast deserts of ashen gray landscape illuminated by the weak fires of the stars overhead.
In the haze the ground cracked and sputtered as the latent hear brooded and fermented. Over distant horizons the endless fire sea of Pyrosyna sputtered and burned on. While opposite the endless depths of Agaelia churned and lashed against the sea. But the vast emptiness was beaten, and the baking embers over head warmed the world. The clouds released from the confrontation rained upon the sooty earth. The rain drops boiled and steaming from the ashen ground and rose again as mist in the sky. The great lashing dunes of the elemental battle were eroded.
As the dunes flattened, the shoulders of great giants shifted. Lifting their heads from the blackened earth rose the great Blando Pelliedo Grondas, the White Giants. Two by two they emerged from their dunes as the rains washed over them. Standing naked in their great bleak and gray world they looked out at the the new creation of the world and realized its emptiness. They gathered together, and realizing the bleakness of the world sought to build something out of it. They reached to the ashen ground and brushed aside the mud and the slop and pulled out the clay. In their hands they molded and formed, creating the world around them.
They created great mountains, built celestial palaces. They set to the sea of the north and the fires of the south and laid out great bridges. They brought fire to their mountains and opened forges. They brought water to the troughs and filled great seas. They reached for the stars and brought down great shimmering gemstones and metals which they spun into the veins and bones of great creatures, packed them tight with clay and forged life. They worked with a silent innocence and love for all that they touched and their works filled the sky as it did the ground. They sat at their benches, their heads in vast clouds and hammered into creation great works. In every move they made they put in their love and their life.
For eons they worked. Until so much of their love and life was spent that the great giants fell back from their tables and died. Their creations mourned them. Their bodies were buried in the great earth. From their bodies came a last creation as they rotted, green life came into existence and astonishment came to the world. The halls of their palaces were filled with luscious forests. The taming of the seas became home to great forests of kelp. And the premier of their creation, the dragons looked down upon it all.
The first boot touched the ashen shore with a muffled thud as the long boat came to a stop. Around the sailors an eerie snow was settling over the landscape. Behind them was held a silent sea. A light wind blowing from over the horizon held a gentle lapping of the waves but nothing more as the longboats unloaded unto the shore. For the better part of three days the detachment at open sea had prowled along the coast of this island in search of an ideal landing spot. They had in the end found it at the furthest tip of a great bay, guarded at the one end by a large island. Exhausted and legs wobbly from months at sea the sailors and marines finally once again felt dry land.
“Santiago.” hailed a sailor. He turned back to the men getting off the boat and in a dour tone spoke, “Once you get your land legs back take a group of men and scout the surrounding area, establish a picket.”
The sailor, dressed in a loose fitting shirt and a leather tunic nodded. He leaned on the long pole of a pike as he staggered ahead a short distance and fell down in the cold sand to rest. Moving quickly the commanding sailor helped men and equipment get onto land, pulling the boats further ashore so what little tide there was would not pull them again out to sea. After several minutes passed of walking and stretching many of the marines and sailors were just losing their sea legs and a patrol was sent out. Many of the others moved by habit to move up to the dunes and highland overlooking the beach to find cover from the elements in the immense oaks, mangrove, and fading palms of the shore line.
Things moved along as more and more boats landed ashore. The commanding sailor fell in with a recovering group of men as they helped them along. From these boats came various ill and famished sailors, pale as a winter's gale and their gums bleeding. Scurvy. Helped by the doctors and surgeons of the ship they were moved up on their stretchers to the high beach where they laid out and a fire lit to keep them warm.
“If we do not find some fruit soon, I fear for them, don.” said a surgeon in gray formality, “They are well advanced.”
Scurvy was by no means an unknown ailment, or one hard to treat. Everyone knew this. But it lifted a weight off the old surgeons chest as he brushed his graying bird and turned to look back to the sea. Adrift in steel gray waters still as a mirror's edge sat five immense hulks. Three packed levels of canon deck and perhaps enough stores to sail around the world, though none have thought to try it; many things aboard a ship has a tendency of going sour. But he looked at those boats not as a promise for some great deal or potential but as a nursery for plague and disease which had long haunted them over their trip no matter how much they tried to chase it off with gunpowder and burning incense. Of the original number of the crew, fifteen to forty men each aboard each ship had died many more convalesced by one disease or another, least of them was scurvy. There were plenty more aboard the dank decks feared too sick to move still.
“I already put out the orders for a patrol. If we find any fruit in the area they'll be the first to receive it.”
The surgeon nodded and his eyes shone with a hint of gratefulness. He wandered off to tend to his patients as the commanding sailor stood to look out at the operations coming to shore.
Many things were coming to order. It had to, the officers of the fleet had spent the last two days making a plan of operations for when they would find a suitable spot. They had sailed past plenty of coast and wave-breaking cliffs since finding this land. They knew little of what might possibly be here, though more than a few ruins of fortresses seemed to have been perched high above the ocean cliffs. Their walls looked as sturdy and bleak as the gray granite escarpments that met the waves. On this island though they did not see much of the sort from the sea.
From the great boats was launched one more longboat. The sailor stood erect and crossed his hands behind his back as he saw it make its approach. A great red banner flew from it. A golden canopy covered the hull. He could see the shine of full armor dress as the men aboard shone in the eerie low sunlight. The oars of the boat beat at the waves as it crawled in towards the shore where the men now were working. The sounds of axes struck the breezy air and the first trees were beginning to gall. Clearing was under way and soon would rise the first of the tents. The sailor knew a number of engineers would be at work surveying the area to begin work on initial fortifications; who knew what lived in this land with them now.
As the dressed boat neared close to shore the sailor stepped back onto the beach and towards the wash to greet it. He came up to the waves just as its bow hit the shore and the first armored boots sunk into the moistened gravel and sand. The wood growled as it pulled across the wave washed pebbles as the men aboard stepped out. The sailor bowed low to the commanding figure who stepped onto land.
“Don deGrand.” the sailor greeted the tall lithe figure under the wide brim of a flapping hat, struck with a long gray feather, “Welcome to a whole new world.”
The lithe man, his skin sun kissed and his features sharp and emaciated through hardened stretched skin smiled down at his officer through bright blue eyes. “The pleasure is yours.” he said softly, “You were the first to land.”
Laughing the two grabbed each other by the forearm and pulled each other close. Sir Gabraldi, or Domi Gabraldi Samprosio SantoSillisia DiCorlone gazed out expectantly at the land they had come to. His eyes were filled with the religious fervor of finding the moon and setting it free again, where ever it might be. This land, he thought to himself as he scanned the shore looked as though in better times it would have been a tropical paradise full of heavenly birds with the potential for much wealth. But under current conditions, the mood was dampened and the possibilities were scant. He may be able to put potatoes and corn into the ground and expect to feed his men with that much. But to again taste coffee and rich Sanerican Oranges were a luxury long dormant even now. Men lived, but they did not thrive. All were forced to be monks. These days were good for Heaven, to receive so many pure souls who did not need to wade the fires of Hell for so long to clear their souls and minds before they stood on the gates of eternal resplendence or blissful reincarnation. But what joy was there in the meantime, except drunkenness or suicide?
In contrast to the lithe gentleness of Domi Gabraldi was his minor officer, the commanding sailor Fussolino Falango Rumero diCapal. A short stacked figure whose graying features were bruised and scared from a number of fights and scuffles on the grand endeavor he was on. His black beard salted with hints of white and gray and growing wild. His pale gray eyes shaded under the visor of his polished helmet. He wore his musket on his back, a long precise Perto sword at his hip on which rested a heavy gloved hand, while at the other hung a pouch of already wrapped packs of powder and shot.
The two strolled together up the beach as sailors and marines worked around them. On their expedition they had acquired many different hands. The expedition itself was no longer simply one from and for Sandovarra. While the king still financed the effort, even more so as it produced tribute for his court, manning it was no longer a prerogative of the court itself. Disgraced nobles or overzealous schemers still come to the expedition to seek redemption, but they do not fill the entire ranks. From shore to shore the expedition established many foot holds, or many offices and consulates in foreign lands. Under the red-gold dragon banner of the King of Sandovarra many were offered council or guidance, or hooked fully into the expedition as it seized principalities for trying to excise it. As such, the laboring hands of the expedition were numerous in size and shape. Men and women blue-blooded and not came to be a part of the expedition and they toiled and labored here on the beach to set the next step in its long mission. Children even had been born to it, and these Expediodarra helped pull the labor, doing the simple things.
Fires were lit to help against the alien biting chill and the two officers surveyed their future encampment. Gabraldi was pleased to see they had found such an ideal bay. The distant small island at its mouth was not far off either and could be seen as a thin strip behind the great masted ships. At a future point, such an island would become an ideal location for fortifications. From that point guns could look out over the steel gray waters and hold off hostile ships. In a more ambitious future, a chain might be pulled up from the sea to seal the water off and break the hull of any hostile vessel seeking to land in their bay. And from the inland they were guarded by the forests and wilderness where any attacking army would have to struggle against first before he could muster an army to hold them at land. The site of a river mouth opening into the sea opening the potential for an inland route for any advanced detachments sent inland. He counted up his possibilities, and thanking the divines that there was nothing yet to contest their presence. A more perfect position he could not think of.
Orders? Uhhh... I guess whatever is needed to start things off.
There! Light of day! Another cave-in had shut them inside the ancient tunnel network of Dvergadypi for the second time this month. Thorfinn Underhall grit his teeth furiously. Oh, how he vowed to have those puny excuses for builders whipped! To call yourself a Brownbeard and yet failing to reinforce a simple tunnel? They shamed the whole clan, they did!
A few strikes of pickaxes later and there had formed a small hole for the tiniest of the dwarves to crawl through. A few of them did, keeping an eye on the situation outside in case there awaited another rockslide there.
“Clear!” came a muffled shout from the outside. Thorfinn nodded at his miners. “Break us through,” he commanded and the miners dug through stone and shoveled gravel with blood-pumping intensity. They were tired - that much was clear as the outside day. However, every dwarf in the tunnel knew that the larders already were scraped bare, so there was but a question of time before the population would begin to starve.
Finally, the rubble was cleared from the entrance and Thorfinn stepped outside. While the people that had followed him to the entrance exclaimed their praises and celebrations, running around hugging frozen trees and kissing the snow, Thorfinn took a deep breath of sorely missed fresh air and turned to inspect the gates to his underlands. Once, they had been proud and towering, like those of a castle, with pillars of stone carved to resemble dwarven workers holding up the mountain, and an arching dome for a roof which integrity never threatened collapse.
Now, one would be lucky to even see the remains of those statues’ feet. To think that such a mighty and ancient kingdom could have fallen into such disarray in only a few generations. It was almost as if…
“Yarl Thorfinn!” cried an approaching entourage. The patriarch turned to see battered farmers from the lower villages come running and limping on occasion.
“Halfdan, cousin! Is that you?!” Thorfinn exclaimed back and approached. Their condition brought the attention of the others dwarves as well, and quickly a few ran into the tunnels to fetch bandages, medicine and stretchers. There were a total of six, led by the correctly identified Halfdan Macdoug-Underhall, thane of the farmer’s settlement Dougsdahl. He had been wounded in the arm, but was bruised in comparison to some of his followers.
“They were too many,” he explained, “we were overrun a day ago. A few of us tried to escape back to the tunnels, but we were cut off.”
“Who attacked you?” Thorfinn asked. “Have the ancient horrours of the woods returned?”
Halfdan shook his head. “We saw them not in the dark. They were like ghosts.” He extracted a small jewel from his pocket. “... It may be due to this.” He dropped it into Thorfinn’s palm and the yarl gave it a lookover.
“What is it?”
Halfdan shrugged. “We do not know. All we know is that the warrior who dropped this seemed terribly eager to get it back.” He pointed to the sky, where the fractured moon barely still hung. “Our scribe suggested that it may be remnants of the Moonfall ten years ago.”
“Oh, that horrible business?” Thorfinn mumbled and turned the jewel around in his hand some more. “What does it do?”
Halfdan shrugged again. “Nobody knows. It could be some sort of family heirloom or currency? Why else would the warrior want it back?”
“Could it be a weapon?” a third dwarf suggested. It was Donald Deepstone-Underhall, warchief of the Underhall battleborn. Thorfinn pursed his lips. There was something about the stone - something about it whispering in his mind.
“Wouldn’t say that,” Halfdan mumbled, “they never hit us with it.”
“But it could be magical, no?” Donald suggested.
While the two of them discussed the properties of the stone, Thorfinn walked back over to the gate to Dvergadypi. He eyed the foot of a long-crumbled statue and cast a glance over his shoulder. A few were curious as to what he was doing, but most were following the increasingly heated conversation between the thane and the warchief. Thorfinn placed his hand on the statue and imagined as much as he could a statue of a mighty dwarf holding up the roof of the tunnel entrance.
In a flash, the stone in his hand became dust, and the stone around the statue became like a soup. Thorfinn stepped back, and all the dwarves turned to see what the source of the suggest commotion was. Rock and stone smashed together and sand twisted itself around it like a cloud, polishing and carving details into its shape. Before long, there stood a proud, mighty dwarf of stone in place of the crumbled pillar, beautifully holding up one side of the neglected gate.
The dwarves were all speechless. Donald and Halfdan came running over to Thorfinn and each grabbed him by a handfull of his furred shirt. “What did you just do?!” they demanded in unison.
Thorfinn blinked and pushed them away. He looked around for the stone, but found only dust under where his hand had been when he cast the spell. “It was magical… A stone of wishes!”
“A what?”
“Do you not see?! I wished for there to be a statue here, and the stone granted the wish! That’s why you couldn’t see the assassins in the night - they wished to be invisible!” Now it was Thorfinn’s turn to grab the other two by the neck of their shirts. “We need to find more! Dvergadypi shall be restored to its almighty glory - for the honour of Gereg the Stoneshaper!”
Lizardmen colonists were working away, hauling the little supplies of lumber, stones, and dried straw to construct small simple huts. Hunters and warriors patrolled the area while the rest of the boats arrived on the beaches. "We don't have much food left... We must ration out resources!" called a council member inside a small, crude long-house. "But that will decrease the populations happiness! They cannot work if they are starved and depressed!" called another. "Should we send scouts to see whats out there? We could have neighbors!" another argued. "Calm yourselves!" Thrall interjected. "Infrastructure is our main goal right now. We don't know whats beyond our border and we don't have long until nightfall. Focus on the construction of huts and fishing docks for now. We will improve the populations happiness by giving them homes, rationing our food supplies to ensure they do not starve, and prepare scouts later to search for proper habitable land and resources... Be ready to salvage the buildings and boats for the move." Thrall finished. The other council members applauded in agreement.
The construction of multiple huts were already finished and more were on the way. Some hunters discovered stones with few precious metals and abundant amounts of fish. The rest of the boats landed and more supplies were being unloaded into the stockpiles. Thrall and some Warriors were patrolling the encampment to watch over the progress and check the supplies.
Grimtak looked out over this kin, strewn around the shore, exhausted and bruised, some among them still coming ashore, their boats and rafts now little more than wreckage. He felt a tinge of sadness and shame that they had been reduced to this, he wished that they could turn back and aid those they had abandoned in their battle against the elves. But the truth was that they were lost the moment the waves and the winds carried them out of sight of the coasts. Is this what the spirits had intended for them? Does that mean they are not dishonored?
All that remained was an elven ship, too large to approach the shallow bay it still sat out in deeper waters. A final testament to their origins, and perhaps a beacon to their presence. Soon dusk fell on them and an agreement was quietly reached the spend the night on there to recuperate and gather themselves for the days to come. Grimtak made other plans, he was born in war and he saw action he wanted taken. Together with two of his old comrades, he rowed out to the boat on little more than a big piece of wood. Then they did what needed to be done; they set fire to the vessel that had been built with the blood of Orcish slaves.
When they came back, their people had gathered on the shore to watch the fire. Some smiled, some stared, some cried Why?, Mukdrak and Runda, the would-be shamans, danced a wild dance around their own fire. Grimtak met the gaze of the elders, those who had been born as slaves, those who had been born with elven names, those who had been the first to raise weapons against the elves. Rokar, as he had named himself, looked at him with scorn "One day your rash actions will bring you dishonor, Grimtak". But they left it at that, apparently more offended by Grimtak's own decision-making than the action itself. Grimtak and his comrades did not hide their actions and walked proudly among their people, long wet black hair clinging to their green skin.
At dawn, they cleaned away their presence on the beach as best they could and marched in-land with what they had left, following the river to find safer lands than the exposed coast. It was a long march, but they soon found fine grasslands and a great forest expanding before them, finally coming upon the great lake that the river flowed from. The blossoming spring made it look all the more like a dream land. Is this what the spirits had meant for them? Nestled between the forest and the lake, they began to make their home.
Land ho. New lands. Oddly enough, this wasn’t where Jasper thought he would end up. This continent wasn’t on any of his charts. Was this crude luck or were his acquired sailors so worthless they somehow had sailed into an entire continent on accident?
No matter. He could feel it. This land was ripe with living creatures. Deathholme would be the capital of a new empire that not even death could stop. While living subjects were necessary, powerful beings could transcend their mortal coils - much like Jasper himself had done. He was a Death Knight now, emotions were useless and so were mortal concerns. Yet, he was to be a strong leader. His people feared him, for not all of them had yet been indoctrinated to the cult’s teachings. And even those who were… Well, they still were right to fear him. Fear was an excellent motivator. The promise of power too.
Overlooking Deathholme, Lord Silverpine had to decide which task was to be done first. Constructing the settlement had already revealed what the nearby area could offer. The forests around them provided excellent timber, and basalt could be mined from the cliffs nearby. The wild boar, deer and moose that roamed the land provided furs as well. But what to focus on next…? Resources? Food for his subjects? Scouting the area? Perhaps he could delegate…
-
Only a few days after arriving, a strange feeling swept across everyone in the settlement. None felt it as strongly as Jasper, however. He recognized this feeling. Knew it well, even. The unmistakable feeling of undeath, like a mist blanketing the entire land. Jasper felt it strongly when he first became what he is today. Suddenly, he felt a strong urge to travel south, into the mountains that blocked the horizon far away. These misty, cold lands drew him into them somehow. One thing was clear: they aren’t the only undead on the continent.
”My lord.” A servant interrupted Jasper’s thoughts. ”What is it?” he hissed back at the servant. ”When we dug the foundations for the storage, we found this.”
The servant presented a strange, tealish stone. Within it were crystal-like shards, glimmering like gemstones stuck in a chunk of rock. The object wasn’t larger than a palm, but when taking it in his hand Jasper thought as if the weight of the entire world resided in this one piece of rock. He dismissed the servant without another word. Clearly, this stone had some sort of magical property. Jasper decided to...
A) Attempt to absorb the magic within, to strengthen himself. B) Store the stone to study later. C) ...do something else.
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: 1000 Livestock: - Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 60% of adult population. Infrastructure: N/A Food level: Low Resources:
Timber
Stone (basalt)
Furs
Wealth: - Trade: - Growth: +3% Base: 3%. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level. Morale: 75% (People fear your rule.) Foreign relations: N/A
In no time, the slaves and overseers had constructed the beginnings of a settlement. The surrounding lands had plenty of animals to hunt and lumber to chop. The river as well as the sea had plenty of fish, and not far to the east was a small hill where the rocks were stained with a greenish tint, hinting at copper veins beneath the earth.
There was, however, something strange about the land. While living creatures were abundant, it was as if an overhanging feeling of death seeped from the northern mountains. The entire mountain horizon was dominated by distant, towering mountains. Mist and clouds seemed to seep from the rock and blanket the lands beneath.
”Father, is our journey over?” a young elfling asked his father as they, together with their servants, had set up their dwelling and was putting it in order. ”Over?” the older elf asked his son. ”We’ve sailed the seas for months and finally made landfall. We’re creating a new home. The Lord-Trader said we’d conquer these lands now. So the journey is over?” the son persisted. ”Did you feel like your journey was coming to an end when we left our ships?” asked the father. ”Well, no, I…” ”Exactly.” the father gave his son a grin. ”Imagine. This entire continent… It’s on none of our maps. No one has even heard of this place. Truly, our journey has not ended, my son.” He turned back to a chest that had just been hauled over from the rest of the cargo. Presenting an ornate black and silver key, he opened it. The chest creeked and the son could see gears turning and pieces shifting. ”Our journey has just begun.” the father finished, bringing out an item from the chest that the son recognized to be the customary weapon of their kind. It was forged from the finest metals, and the hilt was extravagantly decorated. True elven craftsmanship had gone into making this exquisite weapon fit for a lord.
What weapon did the father present to his son? The weapon you choose will be the dominant one wielded by your soldiers. Dark-Elven infantry is revered across the lands, and feared. The one you choose will be the main weapon your elite soldiers will be trained in and carry throughout your campaign, until you actively choose to change it.
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: 750 Livestock: - Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population. Infrastructure: N/A Food level: Low Resources:
Timber
Copper (Not mined yet)
Furs
Wealth: - Trade: - Growth: +2% Base: 2%. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level. Morale: 100% Foreign relations: N/A
The landing had gone smoothly. This exotic island would be a perfect home for the expedition. Long, bright beaches with white sand stretched to either side of the horizon in parallel with those of the barely-visible silhouette of the smaller island across the bay. A variety of vegetation, much of it decidedly tropical, carpeted a slightly hilly landscape, concentrating into a forest to the east. To the west, a huge mountain loomed with a powerful presence, so tall that it cut the clouds. A river flowed from it, making its end into the sea where the men had decided to make their landing. The settlement was styled Encampo Nuvo Parva, and so far things were going well. The island was home to a variety of birds and the surrounding bay’s shoals offered a wide array of fish both familiar and foreign, so for now the expedition was able to sustain itself through toiling to reap those bounties.
Along the river were many trees with small, green thumb-shaped fruits clustered together, as well as some exotic citrus. Many were sour and underripe, ruined by the unseasonably cold trade wind. Still, they were abundant enough, and were gathered in great quantities. Though they could hardly be used as a staple as things were for fear of turning stomachs and causing diarrhea, in limited quantities they were fed to the afflicted sailors and used to treat scurvy.
A forest of tents soon cropped up a ways inland, and in the ground around its perimeter were driven stakes cut from the various hardwoods and other trees to be found. For now it would be an exaggeration to call the abatis lines a true palisade wall, but given time they were be able to improve those fortifications. If they saw fit, they could even dig trenches and perhaps divert the river to create a flooded moat, and then use the excavated soil in earthwork fortifications. Some raised gun platforms would go a long ways towards making defense of this river mouth and its surroundings more feasible.
While the anchored ships were emptied of all that remained of their dwindling supplies and all was ferried ashore, some of the marines went further inland to survey what parts of this land they hadn’t been able to see from the coast.
To their surprise, and even alarm, further upstream they found an embankment of at least half a dozen small, abandoned boats. Rather than having been neatly dragged up the riverbank to safety where they’d presumably be safe in the event that some deluge or storm created a flood, it looked as if they’d been haphazardly thrown down and abandoned.
They were outrigger canoes, very small (such that they felt cramped for even just one or two of the men to sit in) and probably only intended for use up the river and maybe out in the bay within sight of the island’s shore.They were in various states of completion, with one notable specimen having been fully carved. The vessel’s makers had even started painting it; there were beautiful and stylized pictures of clouds, the already-familiar silhouette of the great mountain that dominated the island’s skyline, and some of the recognizable local wildlife and fruits. But there was also some sort of squat humanoid figure, half-painted...the paint had smeared there, and then the vessel itself had seemingly been struck repeatedly with an axe or clawed at with a rasp, for where the little humanoid’s head should have been there were only holes and gouges in the ship’s hull, and this particular canoe had been flipped over and (seemingly intentionally) hurled into a boulder that protruded from a dense thicket of plants. In that violent process, the fragile outrigger had broken and some of the woven plant fibers attaching it to the main hull had torn.
The Expedition has had their illusions of being alone on this island utterly disenchanted. But what was Sir Gabraldi to do when the marines reported back with their findings?
A) Send an expedition to search for these native Boat-Builders, for it would be good to be more cognizant of their location, technology, and numbers before deciding how to deal with them. Presumably they dwell somewhere further upriver or in the nearby jungle, so it would only be a matter of time before a search party encountered them. Perhaps some sort of diplomacy could also be initiated, and it might be better that first contact be established before the locals find foreign invaders and a fortified landing site on their lands. B) Take a defensive stance, making entrenching the camp’s position the utmost priority and ordering the men to stay as close to the encampment as possible. If the people only leave to conduct vital foraging and always do so in large parties escorted by armed men, they would be at the smallest risk of ambush or kidnapping. The shattered and discarded boats suggest that the natives might be divided and warring at best, or perhaps just unpredictable and prone to anger. It will only be a matter of time before these Boat-Builders discover the Expedition’s presence, if they haven’t already, and when that happens it will be best to have a defensible, vigilant, and strong position in case these foreigners are hostile. C) Take some other course of action.
Then, of course, there was also the question of what other actions the Expedition would take. Even if they sought to go on the defense and wait for the natives to make an appearance, work could certainly be done to improve the military’s readiness or or the people’s morale.
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: 1000 Livestock: - None. Military: Small corps of trained marines. Militia able to be conscripted up to around 30% of population. Infrastructure: N/A Food level: Low Resources:
Timber (with rare hardwoods; currently harvested in small quantities)
Fish (large quantity; currently harvested in small quantities)
Bananas and citrus fruits (large quantity in the wild; poor harvest with low quality; currently harvested in small amounts and not cultivated)
It was a long, long march for the Bloodhowl orcs. Fortunately it never seemed as though they were in any imminent danger, so they took their time negotiating the foreign lands at a steady pace and foraging from the country around. They fished as they followed the river all the way from its mouth, down its neck, and finally to its heart that was the great lake they now found before them. Especially once they reached the more forested parts of the riverland, there was also a wealth of berries to gather, game to hunt, and other means of sustenance. That such a bountiful land could be so empty and devoid of people was a strange notion.
Throughout their journey they never noticed any civilization or other people; the signs were there of course, in the form of the occasional tree that’d been felled for a camp’s firewood rather naturally blown over, or in the few bits of ruined waterskins and other discarded refuse that was buried in the muddy riverbank. Some small paths between the woods were too wide to have likely been mere game trails, and as they journeyed farther up the river, the deer and other game became scarcer. They were not accustomed to such subtleties however, and failed to note any of those indicators ast hey passed them by.
When they finally found a spot that they deemed worthy of claiming, it was within sight of a great lake so large that they couldn’t see the other side. Were the water not so sweet and pure, they might have thought it to be another sea just like the one they’d sailed across just a few months prior. Here the land was surely blessed by their enigmatic gods; the lake could provide, and boulders and timber aplenty to make tools and erect permanent shelters. But perhaps erecting those shelters would not be so necessary after all, for one of Grimtak’s companions had stumbled across something just a short ways into the forest. “You should see this,” the hunter told his friend. Grimtak of course followed him into the trees, and the two made their way up a small creek and past some seemingly well tended groves of trees, and then finally into a bit of a clearing.
Within the clearing there was a settlement, but it was desolate. A light breeze of wind blew through the site while Grimtak took it in. It hadn’t been empty for very long; there were few signs of disrepair, and no holes in the roofing or walls for the breeze to whistle through. Some grass had started to sprout up and grow between the cobbles and stepping stones of the unused pathways, suggesting it had been perhaps a few months since those little roads had been walked. In total there were about two dozen small cottages and buildings, all of which looked to still be in perfectly good condition from a distance.
“I lurked out here and watched it for hours,” the hunter told Grimtak. “Thought they might be hiding inside the houses, but there’s been nothing. Not a whisper, not even a shadow in the windows. What should we do? Tell the others? What do you think the elders would even say?”
The Bloodhowl Clan is already presented with a major dilemma. They could:
A) Immediately begin investigating this strange settlement, searching for any treasures or things of use that might have been left behind, and perhaps seeking clues for what may have happened to its inhabitants. Maybe the clan could even occupy it? Why break their backs and sleep under the rain for months working to build their own houses when some are right there for the taking? B) Leave, and quickly. This doesn’t feel right, and there’s no telling if the place is cursed or if the inhabitants will come back. C) Take some other course of action.
But of course, after making their decision there would still be other work to attend to.
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: 1000 Livestock: - None. Military: No elite or standing military. Warrior culture, with up to around 60% of the population capable of being mustered for battle when needed. Infrastructure: N/A Food level: Low Available Resources:
When the Rhaetians stepped through the window to this strange and foreign world, it was with a grace that lesser races could only dream of. Their feet landed upon the ground so gently that the grass did not bend and the fallen leaves did not crinkle, and the procession of warriors and tradesmen and scholars, wizards all, followed their senses as they sought out the nearest source of magic. Attuned to such things as they were, they followed the magic-laden wind until they came to see a small lake in the distance that radiated an invisible power, the Moonwell.
A few small huts and other crude shelters sullied the land around such a sanctified place. Undeterred, the Rhaetians approached, but to their horror those with the keenest eyes were able to behold the lurching forms of trolls, skulking around the Moonwell’s gently glowing surface. The dark creatures chanted and danced around the lake’s shore, worshiping its power, whilst some worked foul magic by drawing up the water into ewers and bowls, then pouring it into the center of strange chalk circles adorned with skulls, torches, and rings of salt.
Realizing at once what had to be done, the Rhaetians emerged from the wooded foothills like ghosts and descended upon the unwary trolls. A barrage of magical attacks almost instantly destroyed several shelters and killed some of the trolls, but the beasts’ bewilderment turned into savage rage within moments. Some of them snatched up the closest things resembling weapons and then charged headlong to meet the elves in battle, perhaps trusting in the magic of their own potent charms and fetishes (many chiseled from moonshards, glowing eerily in the darkness of the night) to protect them. Such was their might that a few of even the most skilled Rhaetian warriors were overpowered by the great trolls that were fighting near-naked and with only tomahawks, spears, or makeshift bludgeoning weapons as arms.
Some of the other trolls called upon their dark powers and tapped into the Moonwell’s magic, then conjured their magical attacks. The ground rocked as fire, light, shadow, and other forces were animated and wielded to deadly effect. Considering that they were taken by surprise, the trolls put up a ferocious fight, but in the end they were inevitably slain.
They immediately occupied the trolls’ camp and began erecting fortifications near the Moonwell, naming this new bastion Arhnore. Most of the trolls’ possessions and supplies were immediately cast away or burnt; they took for given that such action was warranted, lest traces of the foul trolls or their equally vile magic contaminate noble Rhaetians. But in a small rocky cliff, beneath the twisted and gnarled roots of a tree, there was a crevice. And as the warriors peered into this cave, they heard a wheezing. They drew their fine blades and entered cautiously, and there inside they saw the final relic of this fallen tribe of dark trolls -- a single survivor, seemingly ancient with long white hair and cracks in his tusks. He clutched at a still-bleeding gouge in his side, the wound so severe that it was probably only the prodigious regenerative powers of all trolls that had kept this one alive.
He looked at the Rhaetians with dead black eyes and spat, but then he tugged at a signet ring upon one of his fingers. The beast’s finger was like a sausage, so fat and the ring so tight that the had to break his knuckle with an audible crack to get the ring off, but he did so with little more than a grunt before casting it at the elves’ feet.
It was oddly ornate and exquisitely made, but was dead and pulsated no magic, for it had only dull black onyxes rather than the brilliantly glowing white moonshards that some of the other trolls had worn about on their trinkets.
The troll’s mouth did not move, but its magic was nonetheless potent enough that it could speak. Even as he laid against the wall in the deepest recess of the hole, and they stood by the entrance, they heard the troll sorcerer’s ragged voice in their minds as clearly as if he was whispering into their ears from only a hair’s width away. ’You have bested me and my tribe, and unlike my foolish brethren, I know when to surrender. That ring is a sorcerer’s sign of power, and to surrender it is the ultimate humiliation. Enjoy your triumph, little ones, for my kind are bound to serve at the whims of any who come to bear our rings. So bring my tribute to your warlord or great shaman, and then we shall be as brothers, slaves to the same master.’ He cackled a bit at that last part.
The telepathy carried more than mere words; it also betrayed the troll’s every intention and thought. The loathsome beast barely felt any sorrow or sense of loss for its dead fellows. He was of course simmering with rage at the present situation, though he kept it coolly suppressed, and the troll seemed just as disgusted by the elves as they were by it, too. Yet through all of that, there was an honesty and candor to its mind. It meant what it said, and harbored no plans of betrayal.
Still, there was the question of whether Princess Aranalda would accept such a thing even as a slave.
A) Accept the offer, at least for now. The beast is clearly a powerful sorcerer and would of course have knowledge of the land, and those both make it a potentially valuable resource. It could always be slain or banished later, anyways. B) Kill the monster; even if it is being earnest in its surrender and offer of servitude, its mere existence, much less presence, is insult enough that there can be no mercy. C) Take some other course of action.
And then of course, after making that decision the Princess would have to decide what her people were to do whilst the construction of their settlement began.
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: 700 Livestock: - None. Military: A few skilled battlemages. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population. Infrastructure: N/A Food level: Low Resources:
Timber (not harvested yet)
Wealth: - N/A Trade: - N/A Growth: +2% Base: 2%. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level. Morale: 100% Foreign relations: The Troll Sorcerer: Neutral
Kvune Wopwe’s recent seizure and centralization of power had certainly brought a new era upon the Entmoian people, but some among the tribespeople wondered if the move boded well for them. Though he of course had garnered the support of many members of the great families before proclaiming himself Nupa, there were inevitably many opponents.
The Entmoians, being long established in their swampland home, had many advantages: they knew of the swamp region and of their immediate surroundings, they had decent (if not impressive) stockpiles of various resources from past years, and their home at Entmo had long been self-sufficient. They subsisted off of the swampland through a combination of fishing, gathering, and the occasional bit of hunting. Of course their settlement had not simply materialized out of nothing, either; a small logging camp felled willows and other local trees for timber.
Even now with their old ways being rapidly overturned, there wouldn't have been much to complain about, if one of the most prominent families hadn’t just tried to stage a rebellion to assassinate Wopwe and ‘check the clergy’s rampant and undeserved power’. The plot had been discovered just before it had boiled over into arson and violence, but there were still no less than 30 men and women that had been arrested; in such a small community, most people were friends (if not some sort of kin) to at least of the dissidents.
That of course meant that Kvune Wopwe walked a fine line in deciding what was to be done with the traitors!
A) Offer mercy, and grant them pardons...but not immediately. As penance, they will first have to somehow repay the Nupa and the tribes. Perhaps they could be enslaved for some time as indentured servants, or banished from Entmo with orders to form a penal colony elsewhere and deliver the fruits of their labor to Entmo. Either way, their toil could be used to end this dark age and fuel a new phase of industry and expansion. B) Sentence them all, or at least the ringleaders, to execution. Treason cannot be permitted, especially of the highest sort where they attempt to overthrow the entire ruling body and undo all of the progress that was made in the past years. C) Take some other course of action.
And then of course, after making that decision the Princess would have to decide what her people were to do whilst the construction of their settlement began.
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: 750 Livestock: - Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population. Infrastructure: A well-built and established town, a small logging camp Food level: Average Resources:
It had been a hard journey for the Ragora Tribe. They had no home, barely any tools to work with and their supplies were running direly low. What little dwellings they had to shield them from the weather were makeshift, and could break from a rough gust of wind. If starving and low of morale, the Ragora were sure to waste away. Their entire tribe could die out in the following months or even weeks if their leaders did not act decisively. Yet, lizardmen were not known for their intellect or their unison. Their leader, Thrall, thought it best to focus on infrastructure for now. His people could not live in huts made of twigs and furs! No, even if they were nomadic for the time being, they could not forsake their way of living. Counting their supplies, Thrall was sure of his plan. The supplies they had left and the amounts foraged from the surrounding lands would be enough to carry them until they had made better homes for themselves. The forests was teeming with life, and the ocean had some shore fish that could be hunted easily enough. In the surrounding area where the Ragora had made their temporary home, the lands were flat and green with grass stretching far, with a few patches of woodland to provide shade, lumber and a habitat for small animals.
Though where there was abundance of prey, there should also be predators. So far however, the Ragora had not found any. In these savannah-like lands, surely there should be some sort of apex predator? One thing was certain, the scouts and hunters were both happy and cautious.
Before long, a scout returned from the west. He had found the edge of the land, the ocean. Apparently their location was on a small peninsula, for all they could figure out. What was more however was that the scout saw, far in the distant when the day was clearest, a mountain stretch into the sky further to the west. There’s probably more land over there, on the other side of the strait! Not long after that, more scouts returned to report their findings. Many reported that along the coast, on both the west and east side, they had found statues ten feet tall. They were overgrown with shrubs and other greenery, but they vaguely resembled some sort of humanoid, chained to the ground by a sword. The ones that still had their limbs and hadn’t crumbled too much seemed to longingly reach out towards the sea. Some stood, others knelt, but all faced the sea and all had a sword through their body that stuck to the ground. Also, they all were disrepaired and in the process of being claimed by nature. Obviously, they were made by some civilization a long, long time ago...
A) Improve food B) Improve military technology C) Settle D) Improve culture E) Explore F) Improve resources/technology G) Prospect the land H) Expand military I) Take diplomatic action X) Other
Population: 900 Livestock: - Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 40% of adult population. Infrastructure: N/A Food level: Low Resources:
Timber (Low)
Furs
Wealth: - Trade: - Growth: +3% Base: 3%. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level. Morale: 90% Foreign relations: N/A
The kingdom shuddered from their recent dark times. A misfortune some called it. Others called it a calamity. All agreed they had to push through if they were to survive, to carry on the legacy of their forefathers.
“A stone of wishes”, Thorfinn had called it. His followers and retainers were… sceptical. A stone cannot grant wishes. Sure, many a myth and legend spoke of precious gems found deep underground that were said to hold magical power, but a stone that makes statues? Surely there was something else to it. They did not disbelieve him, for they had seen the statue be reshapen from stone and thin air, but a stone that grants wishes? Actually… The more some thought about it, the more it made sense. Perhaps it was a gift from their forefathers? A helping hand in their time of need? But then rose the issue of why the assassins had gotten this gift first. What exactly were these stones, and why did it hold such magical power and then burn out into dust?
So many, many questions. So few answers. Uthmar lit his pipe as he contemplated. He was taking a break from his engineering-work, seeing as he had very little to work with at the moment. While pondering, he spread out on his working table a large parchment. A blueprint of some sort, with loads of diagrams and components and instructions and notes written on it. So much was there to see on this parchment, anyone but the most skilled engineers could tell what was on it. Uthmar sighed. His dream invention would never work. He needed something potent that could enhance it and power it, and such a thing did not exist yet. Perhaps he should go about inventing that first? Bah.
It seems the lands and mountains are calm, for now. It’s almost too quiet around the kingdom, but the dwarves had other things to worry about...
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: 800 Livestock: - Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population. Infrastructure: N/A Food level: Low Resources:
Timber
Copper
Stone (different sorts)
Wealth: - Trade: - Growth: +2% Base: 2%. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level. Morale: 100% Foreign relations: N/A
While the pangs of hunger... at least for food was long a thing of the past for him, Jasper still remembered the sensation of emptiness well. The pains that came when there was nothing to eat had long burned itself into his memory, even after his ascension. While it could be a powerful motivator in its own right, letting his followers starve was simply not an option for long term stability. So while his people were digging foundations, some of them were shifted towards the task of capturing some of the local animals so that they could be domesticated, thus ensuring long term food production. The fact that the practice also involved gathering furs was just a wonderful bonus.
However, this day to day affair was quickly shoved to the background as he focused on the teal crystal in his palm. Between it and the pull from further down south, this new land had already reveled mysteries that needed to be solved. Exploring the presence of undeath down south was going to have to wait until he had secured his base of operations however. The presence of other undead in this land might have been an opportunity, but it also opened up the possibilities of rivals to contend with his right to rule.
Running his thumb along the crystal, Lord Silverpine's gaze never left it as he reached out to pull the magical energy within it into himself in order to experiment with it. Curiosity demanded that this discovery be properly studied after all... and if it could enhance his powers further.
Princess Aranalda cleaned the edge of her blade on the edge of her cloak, one did not tarnish elven steel on the rags of barbarians. Her white armour was bright in the dim light of the cave, a stark contrast to the troll shaman who crouched in the dirt before her. She regraded the creature for a moment before using the tip of her sword to flick the ring up into the air, catching it in a gloved hand, and examining it carefully. It was a thing of crude but remarkable craftsmanship. Gold entwined with what appeared to be purple or black onyx. It suggested that there was more to this troll civilization than the savage band that her people had destroyed.
"Search it." She said out loud and two sword-masters stepped past her, their keen eyes easily probing the darkness and find no one else, no means of escape. They both stepped back, shaking their heads as they went.
"Hidden doors?" The Princesses voice was a melodic as the trolls was like gravel and she saw the creature cock its head at her. A battle mage cast a spell of detection and shook her head. The little crevice was, in effect, a prison for the troll. The creature was undoubtedly magically powerful and it would bear in mind to keep a sharp watch on the thing. Nor would she put the ring on her finger until they had studied it properly. One did not know the curses that could be hidden in such a trinket.
"You will live, and you will serve." She said simply, turning away from the troll without further comment. The mage who stood with her followed her to the edge of the crevice until they could just see the creature crouched inside. "Places wards around it, but let it live. If it tries to escape, kill it."
The mage bowed and turned away to begin casting a series of wards about the crevice. They would serve to kill any living thing, other than an elf, that sought to enter or leave the space.
While the wards were set, the Princess strode out into the new landscape that was to become her home. Already the first buildings were going up, driven as much by magic as construction skill. In the coming days they would see to a permanent settlement, well defended and secure. When they had accomplished that, they would move on to studying the Moonwell and the powers that lay within.
In the meantime, they would build, they would collect the troll moonshards that had been scattered by the dead, and in time, they would restore balance to this world.
The boy would find a long, curved blade adorned with the finest marks and the most exquisite of polishes that could be found upon any weapon throughout the land. He knew this weapon well, for he had heard stories from the famed heroes of the past wielding a blade much like this, not just because this scimitar was so grand in design, but that it could split down the splinter to become two. This boy knew of why the armies of his people were feared in melee, knowing these blades could fell many who were overconfident and they could fell many more who were ignorant. These blades, these grim weapons of his people, would have served his father and even his father's father in battle countless times.
The boy looked to his father before asking, "Do you think that you would have to use these?" "Undoubtedly, Alni. This land is untamed and there are many who would rather see our kind dead, Oracle knows," the father replied to his son, before motioning for a servant to bring refreshments to them. Watching the boy pick up the scimitar and marvel at it, bringing a light smile to the face of the older elf. "Alni, when I pass, those blades will be yours," the father said. "R-really?" the younger inquired, having his answer confirmed with a simple nod.
The father got up from his seat, glass in hand as he walked past his son to look out of his new dwelling, watching the normal bustle of a new settlement. He took a breath of air before he took a swig of his drink, knowing that even he would have to work on a day as fine as this, knowing that he would have to act as overseer over the construction of a harbor. After all, it was best to not disappoint the Lord-Trader as that would likely mean losing his own head, and despite what many may think of his stubbornness, even he knows where to draw a line. He had already seen the plans, the outlines of a simple dock to allow some boats to deliver cargo from ships from the mainland or to even allow some to fish should they be assigned to do so.
They would have to look some of the refined wood from their stocks that they had brought from the homeland, bringing forth the issue of needing to get a reliable means of refined timber. Though, this land was very much rich in timber, a raw resource that could likely be exported back to the mainland should this expedition not have much to offer in terms of luxury. The land was rich from what they have seen, however, so hopes were high that they would be able to grow quickly and form a powerful foothold in the name of the company and her majesty, the Queen.
"Alni, have you finished your reading? the father asked absentmindedly. There was the sound of silence. "Finish your studies and then you may look at the blades," he said, hearing the shuffle of disappointed feet along the ground.
There was a moment of silent contemplation from the man, sipping away at his drink before setting the cup gingerly on the table next to him. There was much that would need to be done before Deepcrest would be labelled as a successful settlement, and even more would need to be done for these people to thrive in this foreign land. The father looked to a servant before giving a single order,
"Pen a letter to her opulence, the Lord-Trader about these details of the docks..."
A) Improve Food / C) Improve Infrastructure by building a dock to allow ships to deliver cargo in the future and to allow a place for fishermen to moor their boats.
During the time of the Blando Pelliedo Grondas the stars were their most valuable resources.
They swam in black oily perfection in the high heavens shedding fragile illumination on the world of the Blando Pelliedo as they forged the world from the ash and steam of the chaos that preceded them. And from the stars they pulled forth great magic that they used to create life. This power was radiated onto them, cursing them with the mortality that eventually killed them. For even in time all stars die in utter brilliance, bursting forth their energies across the cosmos to shed life and creation like the fires of Pyrosyna.
Refining magic from the stars created three magics in creation: Consciêsie, Spiri, and Magio.
Into life was spun Consciêsie and Spiri. Respectively, the power of conciousness, and the spirit of life itself. In all things that grow, die, breed, and live is the capacity to remember and to be aware, to hold conciousness, to possess the magic of Consciêsie. But to bind it into form and to prevent it from evaporating into the void Spiri was created. Living spirit; the very essence of soul and life bound into all life. Without the magic of Spiri, all things become as muted and still as the rocks that litter the landscape, or as influenced and determined as the water in the stream, or even fire itself.
But most divine of the magical energies is Magio, raw magic. A primal blend of consciousness, spirit, and the raw unrefined creative potential of the universe and the stars themselves. As the giants worked they learned to take that raw power itself and to trap and pack it into its own vessel. Becoming weary over the eons of reaching for the sky to reach ever more distant stars to do their work they consolidated their efforts to create a vessel from whence to draw a closer supply of this raw primal clay. They sought to have near at end an eternal supply of such power. And so they took the last of the world ash and the last of the primal fire and fought to create two containers. They dubbed these creations Lua and Solea; the Sun and Moon.
To be near enough to be easily at reach, but to not directly interfere they placed these newly created vessels in the sky. There they traveled one after the other to not let one giant be without their power. Both were a spectacle of their own and were revered by all the giant's living creations, foremost the dragons who held the Sun and Moon and the Blando Pelliedo in awe and reverence.
But it was in making Lua and Solea that in the end sapped the giants of their living energy. As t he Blando Pelliedo died, Lua and Solea took on their ultimate brilliance. Filled with the everlasting power of the primal artisans they shone with their own world-influencing magic. They shone down on the bodies of the giants, who decayed into the earth and lending the last epoch of their final creation to the world. Their bodies rotting sewed the last fertility into the soil, and the last essence of their magical power creating the last forms of life: the mushrooms and carrion eaters of the world.
The dragons, inheriting the world from their elders' now revered the Moon and Sun with awe and terror alone. They came to be understood among them as Creator and Destroyer. Able to engulf creation in life-ending fire or ice. Or to bless either with the incubating warmth and soothing coolness of day and night. With the power of Lua and Solea the permanent mist that shrouded the world faded and was absorbed back into the earth.
Without the giants to tend them, their forges sputtered and flashed with unhinged chaos. Incapable of being controlled by the dragons they took on a life of their own. Some cooled and became frozen dormant mountains, simply dying. Some continued to broil and froth at the mouth clouding the skies, living on in agitation. And the rest flared and smoked continually on and off, being restless in their waking moments and their restful ones.
The seas took on life as well, slowly swallowing the old bridges and churning up storms from the fires of the forges. They smote the shore, dragging and shifting the world built up by the giants that had tamed them.
And above this new landscape, shining down with their influential magic orbited both Lua and Solea. Their eyes cast down as they tugged and pulled in their own way.
“As you said, you found boats?” Gabraldi asked, reclining on a mattress laid on the ground.
“Yes your honor.” a marine scout said, he too sat on the ground with his heavily plumed helmet resting on a raised knee.
They sat in the middle of Gabraldi's tent, which served a multi-functional purpose as the expedition commander's living quarters as well as temporary command. With a canvas wall it was the center of the nucleus of the operation where the tents for the other expedition officers were also pitched, from whence radiating outward the other members and functions of the expedition spanned out in accordance to their relative importance to it all. This spot acting as a form of court, many of the non-commissioned nobles in the expedition struggled to keep themselves as close to this spot as they could.
The space itself was well lit by a number of lamps that cast a soft orange glow that combined with the late evening sunlight that filtered through the heavy canvas. The dirt and grass of the space cleared for it was covered with heavy decorated carpets that also smoothed out the rugged spaces of the ground underneath. Several pieces of furnishings lended a homeliness to the space as crates yet to be unpacked promised a further evolution to the current condition of the expedition commander's living quarters. As of now, the space was dominated by the acidic smell of burning lanterns and a moldy saltiness.
“Suppose, your honor,” spoke up an officer himself reclining across the ground as he sketched on a piece of parchment the description of the boats found, “that this is a peasant race or a noble race?”
“I could not tell. We only found the dugouts. From them I would say they are a peasant race.” the scout said.
“This doesn't actually say anything however.” Gabraldi cautioned, “A peasant may have a master or may not. Finding his hut does not confirm as much.”
“I agree.” said another nearby, sorting through the crates for a bottle of wine, “This discovery if anything at least confirms that people live here, and those fortresses are not of some race of man or beast that did not bloom and die in a fortnight, and they persist here in this land.”
“What else did you say this boat had?” the officer, reclining and drawing asked.
“An outer beam, running parallel to the hull.” the scout answered.
“Very well.” the artist said.
“Suppose your honor these people possess the Moon, or know where it went?” the office rummaging for wine asked, finding it, and smiling as he carried the large ceramic jug to the circle.
“Then we will deal with them, as we do with the rest, Montreau” Gabraldi answered, “They will need to know of our mission, and if they are willing to part with the piece. Then we march on them if they do not. The standard rules apply.”
“So soon and we may finally see action. I hope to stretch my sword arm again.” Montreau, a middle-aged man with a bulldog face said with a long sigh, sitting down and uncorking the bottle. He passed it to Gabraldi.
“No, we can not risk them tampering with or harming the moon if they have it.” the sketch artist said. His attention wandered to the scout as he finished the drawing and held it up to the scout, “Is this what you described?”
The soldier nodded and the artist smiled, handing the canvas to Gabraldi, “Here's their boat.”
“Fascinating, thank you.”
“But back to the matter at hand: we are now not as lonely as we thought. But we can not risk harm to the moon, or any more than we can avoid. We do not fully understand its magical nature or what it means for it to be on the earth. Causing too much ignoble death around it may be like poison to it, and would be an insult to the divinities. We must retain pure intention approaching it, or we risk insulting the spirit of Alrique.”
“Yes, but eventually we may need to fight, Sevilo.” said Montreau.
“Yes, but not right now. And not at first.” Sevilo responded, and turning his attention to Gabraldi: “I have to urge diplomacy. We don't know who these people are, if they are at all a noble race or have Lua. We could throw away opportunities in acting rashly.”
“I agree.”
“I don't know, how can we even confirm their intention for peace or for war?” DeGrand said, speaking up from his spot on the floor, “While yes: diplomacy will be the most attractive option. More so because if there is any possibility of danger it may hold catastrophe at bay. And if we can confirm the location of the moon we can send back to The Court, or if we find any tribute for that matter. About where are we?”
Everyone looked at one another pensively as Gabraldi rose. Moving to a nearby table the scout stood and asked, “Excuse me your honor, but am I excused?”
“Yes, you did what you can. You may leave if you wish.” The scout bowed low at this invitation and left the tent.
At the table were a series of charts painted on wide sheets of parchment. They depicted much of the known world to the Expedition, and much of what they had found. Much of what Gabraldi had discovered in his tenure had been sketched in with charcoal over the years and as proportions became finalized and theories confirmed in travel finalized with the ink brush in slow delicate thin lines. There was a gap in the map though, a place marked with the words “Unknown Sea” that had long been avoided by merchants and travelers alike who had for centuries or longer chosen to merely sail along chains of islands and secure coasts that linked the whole world with itself. These men and crews had long brought to Sandovarra tails and stories of the distant lands the Expedition itself went to. Territories at one point or another have been claimed – if at least on paper and in word – by the guile of ancient kings in Parva using the temporal majesty granted to the seat by the dragon Roalumi himself. But these motions were mere gestures at time back up by intertwining the realms with marriages and adoptions since they were often so distant from the court to be directly influenced by its laws.
But the Expedition coming to their shores had been the most direct contact with the kingdom had with these realms in some centuries and confirmed to the court that they were actively independent if not dismissive of their powers. The implications of such discoveries were kept secret from the Expedition, though the routine waves of exiled nobles from the homeland was often considered an indication of the uncertainty and lost faith this news brought to the secluded court.
The officers in the room rose as Gabraldi produced a golden compass from a brass box and began charting out their route from the regular logs the ships' navigators had kept over the course of the expedition. Passing around the jug of wine they watched Gabraldi meticulously follow their rough course and direction from far-flung known ports to the rumored islands they had found and confirmed in the middle of the Unknown Sea. Gabraldi was no amateur in this art, as well as in many other arts he was a skilled navigator and cartographer and the twisting and looping course they had followed at the will of wind and tide took shape in charcoal to end at the spot on the map they had ended.
“It's a long journey.” he said flatly, “It may be five months under a steady wind to send for home if we find anything.”
“There is no reason to cut it down.” Montreau said.
“We will need to sail it many times.” Sevilo corrected.
“It does not make it a non-option.” DeGrand pointed out, “Merely a long one. If we can leverage diplomacy as a way to stall war and to get an advantage, it would only be a year or more.”
“Yes, but by then what can happen?” Montreau asked.
“We can not know.” Sevilo added, “We can not even go to war well if we are not fully aware of who it is we must kill, lay aside any other righteous concerns here. Any good diplomat here would be like a spy to take measure. Montreau, your sword hand may be strong but here you and I I am sure can agree: we have to have a lay of the other race here.”
“I agree.” DeGrand said.
“I'll concede to that.” Montreau sighed, “Well in any case, how do we go about this? Your honor?”
“I propose we first set a watch on the boats, to know who it is owns them. We can follow and make our approach when we know more. Establish what they have, and what they mad need. If this is one kingdom or several we do not know yet either, but we can learn this in time. This may be a dozen tribal polities.”
“And then we can do war.”
Gabraldi nodded, “Yes, that'd be the harmonious way to root ourselves. And in the meantime we can gather what we can to send as tribute to The King. Enforce our position as the long term strategy, and go from there.
“Hence I propose this list of orders to carry out: to seek and identify the boat builders, establish contact and gauge intent. If they mean us war: we must reinforce out position here and wear them out. If they will accept a peaceful existence: carry out exchange with them. We will need to become embedded among them, learn the language. Sevilo, those are your talents.”
Sevilo nodded, smiling under his gray beard. “Further more, how is your magic?” Gabraldi asked.
“It is tired from the voyage as I am still. But give me time.”
“Very well, you are dismissed.”
“No, my friend: all I am saying is that this is a land that shall make us all noble!”
A spirited looking man of young peasant stock sat atop a rock by the sea. In his hand he held a rock like a plate and a knife in another. Sea urchins split and unsplit took up residence on the black basalt sea stone he was using. With the knife he scraped out the delicate orange flesh of the urchin's gonads and ate the sweat, salty flesh.
His companion, a lanky pale skinned man in recovery from scurvy reclined weakly at the bottom of the rock, his toes buried in the pearly sand, “How and why do you say that? Do you know that all land is owned by The King and his Princes?”
“Yes, but they are not here now, and all land must be worked to have value: right? And who is here to work it but us?” the spirited peasant eating urchin said.
Behind them the encampment glowed higher up on the coast. Throughout the day the region was cleared rapidly of trees. Their rough trunks now forming the beginning of fortification against whatever may lurk in the wilds. But now the sun was low it was alight with torch and lamp light and sparkled in the growing purple light of a light spring day. The coldness had lifted and the weary bodies of the newly arrived had been spirited into activity beyond the work day they had. Many went on on unused logs to fish from the sea, others wandered about the shore searching for the easy crabs or clams that were buried in the sand for a fast meal or to add to their rations. It had been months since they all knew a good meal.
“Where did you get such an idea, Gonzo?” asked the other with a light cough.
“Just now. What I think I'm trying to get at is this: if the Honorable King demands tribute from his people, but all tribute flows through the nobility to him: then in a land as fresh as this we can become our own nobles!”
“That makes no sense.”
“Then Sallo I will have to break it through your head!” Gonzo declared, tapping the knife to the rock to punctuate, “When we harvested grain at home: to whom did that harvest go to?”
“My Count.” said Sallo weakly, “But then he gave me up to the Expedition to avoid a debt.”
“That bit is besides the point. But to whom does your count send the grain to?”
“The King.” said Sallo.
“Exactly. So why do you send your grain to your count?”
“Because I farm his land.”
“Yes. And here we are on virgin land. Who owns this land?”
“None of us.”
“And there you have it.” Gonzo said with a smile. “No one owns this land.”
“But that means The King does not take tribute from it.”
“But he can.” Gonzo reminded him, “And who is there to say who can or can not own it?”
“The Expedition Commander, Gonzo. Don't you see: he owns this land now.”
“Does he though? Or does he govern? What determines ownership?”
“Listen friend, I am not really in the mood.” Sallo complained, “Is this really worth it?”
“It is, because I am telling you: this can make us rich and independent men. Far beyond what the Homeland of which ever country anyone here could have made us. Whatever territory the Expedition Commander sets, we can go beyond that. There is no claimed land here, it is all free for us to take. We may have farms and estates where we only owe so little of our produce to someone else, and we may own the rest. Imagine that: our own noble lineage, there is no end to the possibility of us being free, landed, Companiera.”
Sallo only groaned, mumbling something about an ache in his tooth.
“If you will not have a conversation then so damn you to ignorance.” Gonzo spat, “I will have to find someone else.”
“Can this just wait until I am not feeling so tired?”
The Expedition Commander has decided to take option A towards the boat builders.
Meanwhile, the rest of the encampment will go about working on the food supply for this turn
The small canoe moved up to the tall, thin tower. Wopwe wanted to be the first there. Above them, the sky was dark, even though it was barely past midday. Such was life in the swamps, the sky always was often overcast, it probably reminded his people of their ancestral underground homes. Of course, the dark roofs of the caves was still, calm, the sky could be like that too, but it also could showcase great fury in its storms, like the one expected today.
The Nupa of the lands looked over as the traitors were brought, the leaders of an attempted rebellion. It did cross his mind that perhaps he should have gave then a chance, but the law was the law, as he had said in public when he declared their sentences, it could not be bent by prestige, by money, by bloodlines, that was the old ways of the land, the ways of abuse and corruption, of chaos. To fulfil his dreams of an Entmoian Tribe fully centred around the rule of (his) law, he had to deal with these people in the same way he would have dealt if they were fisherman.
Even some priests were asking the Kvune Wopwe to be more flexible, but he could not be moved, he was stubborn in his conviction. The prisoners would be led from the boats to the top of the stone tower where they would be placed in an iron cage. It had to be done in a stormy day so there was a chance of thunder striking the cage. The Nupa was ready to justify the event no matter what happened, no thunder would mean the divine had no desire to give traitors a quick death and if a thunder did hit the cage then it was clear the goddess saw fit to punish traitorous acts with her own hands.
The prisoners in place, he left back for the town. Outside of dealing with political enemies Wopwe wanted to further influence the city and integrate religious and civilian life to a greater extent. The introduction of festivals would be a good way to utilize the temples' control of resources to the benefit of the population. Excess wood could be made into idols and amulets, excess food could be used in feasts, furthermore there were many religious acts typically only observed by the priesthood that the Nupa wanted to extend to the population, stargazing in the hills, bathing in the swamp waters, raising poles in the dry land, all reminders of this new cultural age for the Entmoians.
B) Sentence the ring leaders to execution - D) Improve culture
X) Macdoug and Deepstone are both sent down to Dougsdahl with fifty soldiers to retake it and its farmlands from the unseen enemy. A) Huntsmaster Astrid takes her hunters on a scour of the mountains in search of goats to tame. E) Thorfinn’s son, Harald, is sent to the forest valleys below in search of more moonrocks.
The news of the magical stone had reignited a manic curiousness that had laid dormant within the Underhalls for decades. For a brief week, the populace of Dvergadypi were living in blissful distraction from their collapsing clandom, pilgrims ascending the main tunnels in order to lay down their offerings of respect and piety at the feet of the stone dwarf now holding up their crumbling cave entrance. The Underhalls grew anxious at the thought of so much food going to the gods rather than to the bellies of the living, but to halt perhaps the first unifying moment of the past few years would devastate any remaining claim the Underhalls had on the position as leaders of the Dvergadypi dwarves.
Thorfinn tugged disapprovingly at his beard as he surveyed the train of pilgrims shuffling past the statue, laying down their offerings and making u-turns back towards the mountain’s depths. They would need to replenish their larders if there was to be any hope of surviving the rest of the year. His tugging hand moved to a bronze seal pinning his velvet and brown square-patterned wool cloak together at his neck. He turned it upwards at cast it a glance - the seal of his clan, one still untested by time and trials. Perhaps this would be the beginning of its thousand year dynasty - or the final fizzle before the winds of fate extinguish the last remaining hope in Dvergadypi.
Millennia of history - gone in the blink of an eye.
He would not have it. With a clenched fist around the medallion, he called, “Cousin Halfdan! Warchief Donald! Huntsmaster Astrid!”
The three summoned dwarves appeared before him, bowed curtly and each offered a, “Yes, yarl Thorfinn?”
“Our work to restore the magnificence of Dvergadypi starts today. For too long have we waited for time to pass underground, bickering amongst ourselves while our underlands fall into shambles of what they used to be - what they used to represent. None of us have seen the true glory of our halls as they were meant to be, but by my pride as an Underhall, we shall see that glory restored!”
The three dwarves nodded proudly and hammered their chests in approval. “What will you have us do to make it so, great yarl?” asked Donald. Thorfinn pointed at him and Halfdan.
“Warchief, you will accompany the thane along with fifty of your best. Together, you shall reclaim Dougsdahl and its surrounding farmlands. I want you, cousin, to bring whatever workforce you need to reassume farming once the lands are retaken. We need to bolster our larders before our work can begin.”
Halfdan and Donald exchanged suspicious glances, but nodded either way. “It shall be done, cousin,” Halfdan vowed. “Are we lucky, the enemy will have left the storages untouched, meaning we already can recover enough to last a while longer at the very least.”
“Very good. You may begin.” While the two of them went to gather their units, Thorfinn turned to the huntsmaster. “Huntsmaster Astrid, you will assist in local food production.”
“What will you have me do, great yarl?” Astrid asked politely with a bowed head. She was a Sinclair, the only one of them to hold position so close to the yarl’s family as the court’s huntsmaster. She was powerfully built and clad in wood and skins, with a patterned, long scarf around her neck in the colours of her family. Her hair was chestnut and cut short along her temples. The rest was bundled into a long ponytail running down her back. Thorfinn pointed to the mountains.
“There once ran goats all throughout these hills. Their milk, wool and meat would all be necessary supplies if we are to bolster our people. I want you to take your hunters and scour the canyons and hilltops in search of our old allies. Bring as many of them back as you can - preferably alive.”
Astrid bowed. “At once, great yarl.” Then she stormed off to gather her colleagues and acquire weaponry. Thorfinn pursed his lips, making them almost visible through his great mass of beard. Behind him, lady Ellinor Underhall approached and squeezed calmly his shoulder.
“It’s refreshing to see you like this, Thorfinn,” she whispered to him affectionately. The yarl offered her a glance before looking back ahead.
“There’s no doubt about it, though - we will need more of those wish stones if we are to recover our greatness.”
Her grip tightened a bit. “Yes… A great deal can be accomplished with magic. They do say, after all, that the first descendants of the Stoneshaper could speak to the mountain - make it take the shapes they wanted. I mean, how else would the Hall of Gereg ever have been built?”
“Centuries of labour?” Thorfinn offered.
“Nnno. They must’ve had something like these stones. In truth, my dear, we’re really just furthering the accomplishments of our ancestors by acquiring such artifacts, no?”
Thorfunn hummed. “I suppose.”
Ellinor grinned back and stepped up in front of her husband. “So, why don’t we send our son to find us some?”
“Which one of them?” “Why, who else but your heir? Harald is young, untested and, worst of all, bored out of his mind. It would do him some good to get out and do something with his life, instead of wasting away inside that cave all day, waiting for us to die.”
Thorfinn furrowed his brow. “Ellinor, dear, we’re Underhall - descendants of the Brownbeards! We don’t go outside like those rascally Goldbeards would!”
Ellinor frowned and took her husband’s hands in her own. “Well, you said it yourself - for too long, have we waited underground. Maybe it’s time for certain traditions to make way for new ones?” Thorfinn wrinkled his nose. Ellinor sighed. “Besides, it’s clear that this stone didn’t come from inside the mountain. It originated from, well, somewhere outside. We cannot let it slip through our fingers just because of some old norms demand following.”
Thorfinn sighed. “Fine. Harald!”
While Ellinor struggled to contain her excitement, the young dwarf came over from some distance away, where he had been waiting with his siblings as was tradition. He knelt before his father and kept his eyes locked on the ground. “Yes, father?”
“You may rise. Your mother has request that we put you to work and I am in agreement.”
The gray shades of boredom drained the colour from Harald’s face. At this point, it was difficult to see whether he could control his rolling eyes or not. “Fine, what hole will I be inspecting this time?”
“Calm down, son - we’re not sending you into the caves.”
Harald blinked. “What? Wait, what’s this?”
Thorfinn pointed down to the mountain path leading to the valleys below. “Gather your closest friends and ten of the warchief’s men. You can take what supplies we can spare, but expect to live off of nature’s bounty for the most part. Be on the lookout for anything - our kind has always fared poorly above ground.”
“B-but where am I going?” Harald asked uncertainly.
“You are going to find us more wish stones - as many as you can carry with you back home.” Thorfinn placed a hand on Harald’s shoulder, who seemed to feel its weight to be way greater than it actually was. “You will be the cornerstone in our people’s restoration to greatness.”
Harald blinked again and nodded wordlessly. Some time passed before he could formulate works again, “Y-yes, father. I w-will bring glory to the Underhalls! Thank you for this!”
“Make us proud, son,” Ellinor said warmly and gave him a wet kiss on the cheek.
An hour later, the lad and his escort had begun to descend the mountain, heading for the untamed valleys below.
A) "Gather the others and let us search the buildings. Let none say we were afraid of some empty houses. If there is a threat to the clan we will bring it to the elders. Better bring Mukdrak and Runda as well, at worst they will make fools of themselves, but if there is anything.. beyond our world hiding here they may fare better than us in finding it." Grimtak told his companion, practically ordering him.
Gathered on the lakeside the orcs took their first real break in ages, most among them had spent their entire lives running and fighting, the only exception being those born in chains. They had always pushed on, driven by anger and desperation, leaving no time for doubts or reflection. Finally they had what they desired, peace and a land to call their own, with neither the whips of elves or war on their backs. Yet it left them restless and without direction. Their new lives however could not wait and their restlessness soon boiled over into a burst of activity as they set to making temporarily shelter in the woods and spread out around the lake, fishing and scouring the land in disorganised groups to fill their bellies.
F) Rokar in turn gathered a group to start working the forest, felling trees out of which to make fishing spears and the basis of other tools, materials for more permanent shelter as well as clear room for common spaces and future buildings.
Lizardmen villagers continued to work away, constructing the huts, shelters, and fishing docks. The buildings that were not already done would be finished within the next day. Scouts returned, telling stories of massive sculptures and ancient ruins. By the next hour, these ruins became the talk of the village. Patrol parties, hunting parties, and scout groups were now often sent to investigate the strange buildings.
"Scout the surrounding lands. See if there are more of these ruins. Find out what they are and who built them... They do look old, but we may have neighboring civilizations close by. Gak'vahn! Take your finest warriors and supplies. Search far and wide, and do not return until the third full moon sets, or until you have found another settlement. In the meantime, gather the hunters... Its time for another Kal'vah!" Thrall announced to his council. "Very well... I will take 30 of my people into the wilderness..." Gak'vahn replied. "As for the rest of you... Call the tribe out for the hunt." Thrall commanded. With that, the council meeting was finished.
Outside, nearly the whole village prepared for the Razathian tradition. The Kal'vah is a special event. Nearly the entire tribe gathers for a mass hunting, taking down a large amount of wildlife in a wide radius around the tribes territory. Most of the Wildlife is chased off, but will return in the following months or in the next season. After the massive hunt, the tribe feasts on their kills and saves the leftovers. After the feast, the tribe would greatly ration their supplies until the Wildlife returns. Razathian tribes normally begin the mass hunting if food supplies are direly low, or for preparation of another event.
Most of the Lizardmen tribe gathered in the center of the village. All of them were carrying weapons. Most began to speak prayers to each-other, themselves, and the creatures they would soon hunt. Hunting groups with 10-16 Lizardmen spread out in a wild search of Wildlife to take down.
As Lord Silverpine drew the energies from the stone, he felt a strange presence. He could feel the magic flow into him, and it was powerful. It made him feel like everything he could do was bolstered. It was not a large increment in power, but an increment nonetheless. However, he felt it waning slowly. This boost seemed… Temporary, at best. As he feasted on the magic one bit a time, he held it within him and tasted it. He tried to use it, to mold it and wield it, but it wouldn’t let him do whatever he wished. It was almost as if it was specifically attaching itself to whatever affinity he already had and boosted it, rather than allow him use of some new sort of power.
But that can’t be it. Lord Silverpine knew. He could feel it, the magic within the crystal should be bendable to his will… But it just wouldn’t. As if someone held him back by the wrists, keeping his hands just out of reach from whatever he attempted to grasp. He could feel the crystal being drained of the energy it had stored up, and he realized the crystal’s power was finite. As that thought ran through his mind, something else grew within him. The room suddenly darkened. All sounds, scents and visual impressions faded around him. It was as if he sat not in his chair, but floated aimlessly through a void. ”Where … What?” he muttered as he looked around. This sensation was something he had never felt before, yet something so familiar gnawed at him in the back of his mind. It filled him with a sense of … dread.
”So. I have company at last.” lord Silverpine heard a voice say. It came from nowhere and everywhere within the void. ”Who’s there? Show yourself.” he commanded. Silence responded. Then, after a few long seconds, the voice returned. ”I’ve been alone here for so long… I almost forgot there were others.” the voice said. It spoke slowly, with a deep inhumane voice. Silverpine couldn’t tell if it was a man’s voice, a woman’s voice, or neither. If it was a beast or a humanoid, he couldn’t tell either. He couldn’t even tell what language it spoke. Yet he understood it, like a clear thought in his mind. ”I command you to reveal yourself!” Silverpine boomed into the void. Yet again he was met with silence for many agonizingly long seconds. ”I cannot.” said the voice. ”I am… Imprisoned. Locked away beneath the earth.” Silverpine tried to stand up, but even if he felt himself move as if standing up from his chair, he was still in the void. He couldn’t feel the chair, or the ground. ”The Moonstones… They hold great power. But it is finite.” the voice continued. ”I could only reach out for so long. Find me, and I will tell you all. We are alike, you and I… Trust your senses and you will find me. South. Beneath the earth. Find me.”
Suddenly Silverpine was back in his office. He was standing up in front of his chair, like he had intended to. The stone lingered in his hand, still storing most of its power that he hadn’t drawn out. The magic within him that he had absorbed was still within him, merging with his own energies. It would wane slowly, but still it would last him a week or so, he thought. But… should he even tap into these? Clearly, some other being has already occupied them. At least… This one. Perhaps tapping into it was dangerous. Yet the being who spoke to him had something familiar about it. The choice was his to keep it to absorb more of it later, or absorb all of it now to grow more powerful for a longer period. The thought also came to his mind that he should test out his strength.
-
"Mi'lord silverpine." a servant knocked on the door and bowed his head low. "Yes?" responded Jasper, not looking up from his desk. "We've successfully captured some freeroaming animals. We found boar in the forest and to the north by the mountainslopes we caught some goats." Lord Silverpine frowned and glanced up at the servant. "And?" "Well, uh... the herders say they're sickly." said the servant. He twirled his fingers nervously together. "Then go get new ones, you oaf." Silverpine snapped. The servant squirmed. "Well, I... They're all sickly, mi'lord." he said, looking down at his feet. "Some say the lands are cursed. The animals are sickly and frail... We can herd them, of course, but... their yield is not like we're used to." finished the servant, afraid of Lord Silverpine's wrath. Jasper leaned back in his chair, pausing from his work. He knew there was a choice he had to make here. If he let the herders continue with both animals, they'd recover slowly and the settlement's initial growth would surely suffer. However they would still have twice the animals, and perhaps later on both pig and goat could yield what they're supposed to. If instead they chose to abandon one of the animals and focus on the other, surely their recovery would be quicker. They could always return for the other animal later and domesticate it.
Would Jasper decide on one animal, or keep both?
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: 1030 Livestock: - Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 60% of adult population. Infrastructure: N/A Food level: Low (Improving) Resources:
Timber
Stone (basalt)
Furs
Wealth: - Trade: - Growth: +3% Base: 3%. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level. Morale: 76% (People fear your rule.) Foreign relations: N/A
Any merchant would know, the wealth of any settlement or even kingdom depended on trade. More trade, more tariffs. More goods, more gold. And the queen would always collect her due. Additionally, any sailor would know the worth of any coastal settlement depended on it’s docks. To establish a proper trade route, Deepcrest would need sizeable docks.
The Lord-Trader, of course, knew this. The makeshift docks were being reinforced and refurbished daily, and before long after their arrival on these shores the elves could send out fishing vessels. Not that they had many, but they at least had plenty of room to dock and drop off their catch. The docks quickly became the busiest place in the settlement, as expected by the sea-faring elves.
The Lord-Trader was for one short moment not swamped with work. In fact, she had deliberately chose to take a pause from her work to ease her mind, as she knew stress would only lessen her productivity no matter how much work she had to do. Walking around the settlement, Haelee observed a young elfling running errands. As he was accompanied by a servant, she recognized the boy as Alni, the son of the very architect of the docks. Alni stopped in his tracks as he noticed the Lord-Trader. He nervously straightened himself and bowed deeply to show the respect she is owed. She offered him a simple nod, and he ran off. It wasn’t uncommon for the sons and daughters of lords and nobles to be running errands for their family. Everyone was expected to pull their weight in whatever way they could.
Yet… Here was one who seemed not to be pulling his weight. An older elf, dressed in commoner’s clothes yet wearing an ornate hooded cloak. He was gazing out into sea, his back turned against the Lord-Trader. She walked up to him, annoyed with him instantaneously. How dare he slack off when there was so much to do? As she came closer with her guard, the old elf turned to her, and their eyes met. Haelee stopped in her tracks. Her guards blinked, uneased by their mistress’ reaction to this elf. They knew not every elf of the expedition, but the Lord-Trader sure did.
And this elf was not part of the expedition.
”Who are you?” the Lord-Trader demanded of the stranger. ”Ah. You are sharp.” the old elf responded, not answering her question. ”I am the Lord-Trader Haelee Hune, and Deepcrest is under my rule. You will tell me who you are this instant.” The old elf beckoned her closer with a wave of his hand, then turned back out to sea. Haelee grimaced, but obliged. Her guard followed close behind, their hands on the hilt of their swords. The old man kept staring out to sea. They were still close to the docks, so it was not like this was a secluded spot where one could absent-mindedly gaze into the horizon. ”I won’t ask you again.” Haelee warned him. ”Yes, yes… All in due time.” the old elf said. ”Hear me out, first.” ”I have no time for your games, old one.” ”Oh please, humour an old elf, would you?” ”Fine. Speak then, before my patience wears thin.” ”So quick to lash out… Do I truly scare you that much? Then again, I suppose you would know every single elf on your expedition.” the old man said, ending with a sigh. ”Did you hand-pick each and every one of them, I wonder?” The Lord-Trader shifted uncomfortably, glancing narrowly at the old elf. It bothered her greatly that she did not know who this was, and even more now that he admitted to not being part of the expedition. Was he a spy sent by the queen to keep an eye on her? If so, why reveal himself already? Had they incurred the queen’s wrath somehow? ”Don’t worry. I am no spy. I am no enemy of yours. I’ve lived here for… Oh, gods know how many years. I first came here at the first sign of the moon’s cataclysm.” the old elf said. Haelee turned to face him. Was he serious? Could it be? ”Before you ask… No, I don’t know any other elves in these lands. Then again, I haven’t been everywhere.” Haelee blinked. ”The moon shattered a hundred years ago. Yet you speak as if you’ve been here for longer.” she said, narrowing her eyes at the old elf. He nodded. ”Oh, yes of course. The shattering itself was… Well, recent in elven years. Bare moments in the eyes of history. Yet the signs of calamity have been there for so much longer…” ”What are you talking about, old one?” ”I’m saying I predicted the shattering of the moon a long time ago.” the old elf stated firmly, and turned to Haelee. His fixed his eyes on her, an intense stare piercing through her. ”Yet no one would listen. No King or Queen of any land, friendly or hostile. No beast, human, elf, dwarf or other creature would listen. Who could believe the very cosmos were telling us of this event for thousands of years?” he spoke with a firm voice. He reached out and grabbed hold of the Lord-Trader with both his hands. He took hold of her upper arms by the sleeves of her tunic as Haelee’s guards moved quickly to stop him. They grabbed his wrists and arms and tried to restrain him, but the Lord-Trader stopped them. ”No. Let him be. Let him finish his tale.” The guards obeyed, wordlessly. ”Ah… Forgive me.” the old elf said. ”It’s been so long since I were in the company of my own kind…” Haelee stood unphased. ”Continue.” she commanded. ”It is easier if I show you. Come see me in my home in two nights. I live in the forest, east of here. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you find me.” the old elf said, his face relaxing and his stare easing up from the intense glare he had moments ago. ”Two nights? What is this nonsense?” Haelee objected. ”I cannot show you now. In two nights, the constellations will be in position. I will show you the signs, my evidence, if you will.”
Even if this old elf seemed crazy or senile, Haelee couldn’t help but feel like there was much wisdom and truth to his words. She did not trust him, nor had she any intent of playing into some game of his, but he was not part of the expedition, and as such must have come here some other way. How? Why? What of the moon? Did he really know what would happen before it did? There were too many questions.
”Fine. Two nights. I will not come alone.” said the Lord-Trader. ”Very good. The more, the merrier. Besides, if you bring some witnesses it’d be easier for your people to believe you. What I will show you will shake you to your core.” the old elf said, and began slowly walking east, into the forest.
Haelee observed him until she could no longer see him. Something seemed strange about this… hermit. As he disappeared into the dark of the trees, Haelee turned around, walking with decisive steps back to her study.
There was work to be done.
[Docks have been improved. Fishing resource improved.]
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: 765 Livestock: - Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population. Infrastructure: N/A Food level: Average Resources:
Timber
Copper (Not mined yet)
Furs
Wealth: - Trade: - Growth: +2% Base: 2%. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level. Morale: 100% Foreign relations: N/A
A watch was set over the discarded boats that had been discovered. Rather than just one or two youths, there was a linguist, a small guard of marines should the natives come with hostile intent, three lookouts, another man of upper standing to keep the linguist company and conversation, and so on... The party sat in the shade of the trees near to the boats, and kept watch. Nominally. Throughout the entirety of that next day, they neither heard nor witnessed any natives nor signs of disturbance. Perhaps that was to be expected, some of them wagered; if all of these boats had been broken and rendered unusable, perhaps this was a mitten or refuse pile, and one would not expect a people to wallow about in their own trash like swine. In either case, when the sun began to set, they of course returned back to the camp so as to enjoy the full comforts of the Expedition, and their droll report of the monotonous day was hardly inspiring.
One group wandered a bit further into the jungle, though; they were the ones who found wonders. Overgrown by the moss and vines that favored this tropical clime, there were paved trails and stone stairs hewn into the sides of the gently rolling hills.
In some places there were statues, too! Some were great and powerful, standing upright and approaching four times the height of a man. It must have taken a great deal of skill and labor to sculpt and then move such works. The statues were invariably of people, and they had an odd set of features. Each statue had what seemed to be a disproportionately large head, with a large and long nose and a great protruding brow, a strong jawline, flat ears, and hardly anything for a neck. The statues were hewed from lifeless grey rocks; limestone or granite, perhaps. The eyes were painted a staunch white, though, and it was that bright and contrasting color that first drew let the men spot out the statues from afar. With pursed lips and narrowed eyes, most of them seemed to have regal and commanding, if aloof, airs about them. The statues also had strange hats, carved as a separate piece from a more reddish stone, somehow balanced atop their heads. Perhaps those were a savage people’s cruder version of a crown, meant to signify some sort of authority?
In their excitement to return, the men reported that one among their number had tripped over a large stone. To their surprise, the men had looked the rock over more closely and realized that it had been shaped, and that it was a fragment of a similar statue that had been toppled and shattered. They looked through some nearby stones and pieces and with a start realized that they did not fit together right, and that it had to have been the fragments of at least two or three statues all strewn about the ground there. That, combined with the broken boats, certainly were filling the men’s imaginations with the idea of a fickle and temperamental, or outright violent, breed of creature that peopled this island. Who knew how many other shattered statues might hide beneath the wild undergrowth?
Just before the crack of dawn came, those men set to watch the boats and those that had explored the jungle and found the statues left camp the latter group obviously a great deal more excited than the first. But both were dumbstruck when the rising sun illuminated a nearby ridge, within perfect and unbroken sight of the camp. Upon the ridge, a good space apart from one another, there stood two massive statues that had most certainly not been there the day before, gazing over the encampment and landing site. The night’s watch were even more bewildered than anybody else; they reported having had an uneventful shift in which they’d seen nor heard nothing in the dark. The men cautiously drew closer to the new statues to investigate, and saw that these were not as grand as some that were previously seen in the jungle. Still larger than life, these were only two or three men tall, and they had no hats crowning their heads. In fact, the explorers from the day past noted that they were strikingly different. With noticeably smaller (but still artistically emphasized) heads and differently shaped features, they resembled a man of Parva much more closely than anything in the jungle had. These statues had clothes upon them, too. One was in the style of a marine, the other garbed as a mere worker.
But all of that made the whole scenario even more bewildering; if they had been designed so carefully to imitate the appearance of the Expedition’s folk, then logic dictated that the statues could not have simply been relocated and would have instead been carved (From scratch, too! These things looked as though they’d take highly skilled artisans and weeks, if not months or years, to raise!) within the past few days, for how could the natives have known what a man of Parva looked like before the expedition had landed? And on that note, it seemed that the natives were already very aware of the expedition’s presence, and that they had watched the men undetected and from close enough to make out their faces and general appearance!
More notable than anything else was that whilst the first statues they’d encountered had their arms simply hanging down by their sides, or crossed, these had their arms pressed against their chests to brandish objects. In the marine’s hands there was held a massive axe (carved entirely from stone, and of the same piece as the rest of the statue) with the tip of its haft reaching close to the statue’s knees, and the head of the thing almost reaching up its chin; there was a wild look to that statue’s eyes, and its nose and lips contorted into a snarl. It seemed that the marines’ bearings had been enough for the natives to recognize them as a martial class, even if they’d taken liberties in depicting this one as bearing a barbaric axe in place of proper weaponry. As in for the other statue, that of the worker, it had some cylindrical thing that was presumably a flute, with one end pressed to its lips, eyes closed, and a happy and serene countenance. Each statue stood attached to its own plinth, but the stone slabs jutted forward enough that there was room for a few objects to be placed at their feet. Beneath the marine were what seemed to be a few perfectly smoothed war-clubs, ornamented with bits of shell and bands of separate wood and carved with a few pictures of the local fauna and the great mountain. At the worker’s plinth there rested a bowl filled with some local citrus fruit and berries.
There were no tracks or obvious markings in the grass as to where the statues came from or how they’d been put into place overnight; it was as if they’d just coalesced from mist. Presumably they’d have been carried out from the dense growth of the nearby jungle? They certainly hadn’t been sculpted on site, as there were no huge chunks of rock cut out from that ridge and sculpted.
The entire expedition was set on edge; it was like the hills and trees had eyes. They were all certainly being watched. The natives knew of their presence, and had made sure to show as much in no uncertain way, yet still they had not deigned to reveal themselves directly. Nobody knew what to make of that, or of the statues themselves.
For whatever it was worth, in their quest to improve the land and enrich themselves, some men had found groves of citrus trees near the edge of the jungle and began clearing away the excess undergrowth and even planting some seeds from the delicious fruits where there was space. This was only the beginnings of a proper plantation that would make the fullest use of that plot of land, of course, but it was still a proper harvesting site and a good start towards enhancing their food supply.
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: 1020 Livestock: - None. Military: Small corps of trained marines. Militia able to be conscripted up to around 30% of population. Infrastructure: N/A Food level: Below Average Resources:
Timber (with rare hardwoods; currently harvested in small quantities)
Fish (large quantity; currently harvested in small quantities)
Bananas and citrus fruits (large quantity in the wild; currently harvested in medium amounts and some cultivated in small groves)
Hardly anything of value was found inside of the abandoned village. The cellars and larders had been completely emptied of foodstores, and hardly any tools had even been left. What had been left were the bulky things, furniture and the like. Everything pointed towards a slow and methodical evacuation of the village. In some ways, that was less alarming because it perhaps meant that whatever drove the inhabitants to leave wasn’t so urgent or terrifying that they had been rushed. On the other hand, maybe it meant that they would be coming back at some point!
The decision of whether or not to occupy the village was an important one, and it still hadn’t been settled. That would have to change soon. They could clear out a space and build their own settlement somewhere in the vicinity, but for the same amount of effort they could just as easily take over the dozens of perfectly furnished and serviceable homes and workshops in that village, using the saved time to fortify and expand it as necessary.
Regardless, timber was going to be necessary and so the logging began. Since no saws or axes were to be found in the village, the clan was left to improvise. Suitable stones were gathered from the lakeshore or broken off of boulders in the woods, then knapped into wedges and fixed onto the ends of sticks using copious amounts of plant fibre and the like. It was easy enough to make a hundred crude axes like that, and then there was no shortage of muscle among the orcs to make use of the newfound tools. They worked in teams andclear cut a swathe of woodland, then went about removing the branches from the fallen trees and dragging the logs back to a single timber pile. The smaller branches were mostly used for firewood, but some robust pieces were set aside for making the fishing spears and other tools. A few days of this saw them build a stack massive enough to start construction on houses, or perhaps a palisade wall.
While this harvest went on, many of the orcs of course helped themselves to the village and spent their nights beneath the still (mostly) waterproof roofs of those houses. Many were growing comfortable, and some had even tried to stake claims on certain places! Still, there was nowhere near enough housing or space in that village for everybody to have a patch of floor to sleep on inside one of the houses, so jealousness and controversy was already starting to arise between those who slept inside, those who didn’t for lack of space and yet wanted to, and then a third faction that remained wary of the abandoned village altogether.
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: 1030 Livestock: - None. Military: No elite or standing military. Warrior culture, with up to around 60% of the population capable of being mustered for battle when needed. Infrastructure: N/A Food level: Below Average Available Resources:
Fish (large quantity, harvested in small but increasing amounts)
Wopwe returned to his dwelling in the canoe after having ensured that his sentencing had been carried out properly. A light rain began to fall, little more than a drizzle, but the droplets of water still ran down his face cold. There was some satisfaction to be had in thinking about the traitors shivering atop the tower, damp and frigid. His wishes were conveyed to the clergy, who dutifully went on to pass the message along to the people. Even from within his home, Wopwe was able to just barely hear one of them that was addressing a small crowd not far away.
“And the Kvune has decreed that additional food is to be levied and set aside over the coming weeks. The temple will store it until such time as the next holy day, and then a great feast and festival shall be had! In the meantime, even as you may go without, stay true to the faith and remember our values. To encourage a return to piety, Kvune Wopwe wishes us to encourage all of you to devote your spare time to the creation of icons and art. We will inspect any such works, and the greatest among them will be consecrated and taken by the temple itself! Anyone who creates such a worthy addition will of course be rewarded…”
The priest’s voice was then drowned out by a heavier rain suddenly emerging to strike the roof harder now. He walked over to a window and looked outside to see the priest quickly wrap up his speech so that they could all disperse and see themselves into shelter before the sudden downpour soaked them. Then there was a great flash, and seconds later a great thunderclap that shook the town! A brilliant bolt of lightning had illuminated the sky, tracing a line from the distant tower straight to the heavens. Perhaps the goddess had seen fit to smite them after all. Or perhaps it had simply been chance--who was to tell?
Well, that was a foolish thought. He was to tell, of course. And that meant going outside to examine the tower in person, and explain the meaning of that divine punishment as he had planned.
Not long after, he was in one of several canoes headed for the tower. Many a clergyman or citizen-witness accompanied him; there was a grim air and they were disgruntled, not just from being out in the heavy rain but also from the sinking in their stomachs as they tried to steady themselves for the grisly sight of what awaited them. The entire top of the tower had burst into flames, if only for a minute or two before the rains had managed to douse them, so it was easy to imagine that the condemned prisoners might be charred beyond recognition.
As they drew closer, there was nothing to fill their ears save the pounding of rain, no screams of agony or pain. They climbed up the tower, and lo and behold, they saw the twisted corpses all scattered across the iron cage, contorted in position of agony, all except one! The man coughed and heaved, his ragged breathing immediately catching the attention of the guards. Across his flesh, a strange pattern had been etched. The lightning’s scars painted him the mark of the goddess, and for a moment all was still. Then one of the clergyman knelt down in worship. Half the guards followed his lead, and the other half were frozen in shock. Only one had the quick wit to look towards Wopwe for direction. “The goddess appeared before me, in the thunder’s flash,” the survivor spoke. His ragged voice was only a whisper, but it seemed to cut through their shock and the sound of the rain as sharply as a thundercrack. “She spoke to me, and chose to spare me, as I am to be Her voice and recite Her holy words.”
Another of the clergymen knelt. “Share your wisdom with us, O prophet!” he cried out.
What was Kvune Wopwe to do in such a situation? This had turned very sourly, and now he perhaps faced an even greater threat than the traitors’ failed coup had been. Trying to insist that this man be left in the cage to die would be futile; the people would never accept such a decree, as it seemed apparent to all that this man had been spared and marked by the Divine itself. But could he suffer freeing this man, one of those that had violently tried to overthrow his rule, and allowing him to assume some role as a Prophet? Perhaps now, while there were only about a dozen witnesses, Kvune Wopwe could try to make a move...he could try ordering his guards to kill the man, and then perhaps those two clergymen (if they couldn’t be made through threats or bribes to swear silence) to cover up the whole ordeal, but would that even work? Would his guards even listen if he gave such an order?!
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: 760 (The executions Livestock: - Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population. Infrastructure: A well-built and established town, a small logging camp Food level: Average Resources:
In all possible directions, groups of Ragora hunters ventured to find wildlife to hunt and bring back for their great hunt. As the lands were new to them and seemingly bountiful, the lizardmen had no problems finding plenty of game. Many travelled to the great statues that dotted the peninsula, thinking of the ruined beings as gods or some old monument to greatness. Due to the foliage and great overgrowths however, it was still impossible to say what race they were made to depict. Most of them lie in ruin and rubble, with a few limbs or stony weapons poking out from the ground.
”Izakk!” a young hunter called out to his comrade. ”I’m coming, Grakk.” responded another young hunter. Their group had made camp at the base of one of the few statues that still stood upright. ”Look!” said Grakk. ”There’s an inscription on this great statue. Some old forgotten language! It must be!” Grakk had removed some hanging moss from the base of the statue and found a flat rock wall covered with markings and depictions. ”What do you think it means?” he asked his friend, excitedly. ”I’ve no idea.” said Izakk, staring at the runes in awe. They were both too young and inexperienced to know anything of runes or ancient civilizations. They could however decipher some of the more obvious hieroglyphs. ”This one looks like… A lizardman?” said Grakk, pointing at one of the markings. ”And that one looks like the sun!” said Izakk, pointing to another. ”It looks like the lizardman is praying to the sun.” Grakk brushed off some more moss. ”There are two suns!” he said, as the moss revealed another creature, not lizardman of appearance, seemingly praying to a sun-like object. ”That’s not a second sun.” said a voice from behind the lizardmen. They spun around, spears in hand and snarled at the stranger. They did not recognize it as one of their own, or any race the two young hunters knew of. Then again, they had not seen much of the world yet. ”Who are you, stranger?” demanded Izakk. ”And how do you speak our tongue?” The figure was hooded and cloaked, hiding much of his shape and appearance, though Izakk and Grakk thought they could make out a humanoid face beneath the shadow of the hood. The figure lifted a five-fingered pale hand, signaling he was unarmed. ”Calm yourselves. I come as a friend.” Izakk snarled in response. Grakk pointed his spear at the figure. ”You’re no lizardman. Who are you?” he demanded. The stranger lifted his hands slowly to pull back his hood. As he did, he revealed himself to be a dark elf, an old one at that. Not that Izakk and Grakk knew what a dark elf was, but they vaguely recognized the stranger as some type of elf or human. ”I am but an old man, and I must admit I thought I was alone here for a very long time… It seems I was wrong.” said the old elf. ”But now’s not the time for musings. That ‘second sun’ as you called it is no sun. It is the moon, as it appeared long ago before the shattering.” he continued, and pointed at the markings. Grakk glanced curiously back at the hieroglyphs. ”What? The moon used to be like the sun?” he hissed under his breath. ”Yes.” responded the old elf. ”Now look further down. See how the moon seems to be weeping. It is telling of the shattering - how the moon fell apart into thousands of pieces and was scattered across the night sky.” Grakk stared at the markings in amazement, forgetting the stranger had snuck up on him only moments ago. Izakk’s growl brought him back to his senses, however. ”Why are you telling us this? What do you want from us?” said Izakk. ”Your people have venerated the sun and moon for generations… I’m surprised you didn’t know this already. I can teach you…” said the old elf. ”I can teach you how to interpret the markings and rediscover your old heritage.” Izakk and Grakk exchanged a confused glance. The stranger lift his hands and brought on his hood once more. ”But we must wait. In two nights, the pieces of the moon will be sufficiently aligned for me to show you the secrets of your past. Meet me here then, and I will teach you.” said the old elf and turned around to leave. Izakk stopped him with a question. ”Again, why are you telling us this? Why make this offer to us, stranger?” he asked, demandingly. The stranger paused for a few moments, then threw Izakk a glance over his shoulder. ”I’m but an old man seeking to educate the next generation.” he said, and disappeared into the wilds. As if vanishing, Izakk and Grakk could not find him again no matter how much they searched. But what do they do now? They know nothing of these kinds of things… Should they tell the elders? Or should they keep this to themselves? Should they completely ignore the stranger’s offer?
A) Inform the elders and leaders. Surely they will know what to do with this information. (Your choice if you still want to meet the stranger or ignore him) B) Izakk and Grakk keeps the informations to themselves, and decides to meet the stranger in this place in two nights. C Izakk and Grakk decides this is was but nonsense from an old hermit. They tell no one and try to forget about this.
Results of the great hunt will yield next turn.
A) Improve food B) Improve military technology C) Settle D) Improve culture E) Explore F) Improve resources/technology G) Prospect the land H) Expand military I) Take diplomatic action X) Other
Population: 921 Livestock: - Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 40% of adult population. Infrastructure: N/A Food level: Low (Improving) Resources:
Timber (Low)
Furs
Wealth: - Trade: - Growth: +3% Base: 3%. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level. Morale: 90% Foreign relations: N/A
Not long after Harald had left the halls, an aide ran into the room. ”Apologies, Yarl Thorfinn, but there’s a matter that the guildmasters say they want to discuss immediately.” the aide said with nervousness, with a hint of embarrassment of not having been able to keep the guildmasters at bay waiting their turn. Thorfinn furled his brows as the guildmasters only moments later came into the hall. Most of them seemed in outrage. ”Yarl Thorfinn.” said the representative of the Engineers’ Guild. ”These fools dare accuse the Engineers’ Guild of theft and treason!” Thorfinn didn’t even have the time to respond before the representative from the Warriors’ Guild came up behind the first representative. ”And rightfully so! The Engineers’ Guild have disregarded our laws and stolen from the great clan’s resource stores!” he said. Thorfinn recognized him as Grimli, an old warrior of great repute but who had passed his glory days long ago. The Engineers’ Guild representative turned to face Grimli and frowned deeply. It was Uthmar, an Engineer said to be a genius yet a little erratic. The rest of the clan representatives came after Uthmar and Grimli, and were arguing amongst themselves. It seems the Inventors’ Guild was on the Engineers’ Guild’s side, while the Runecrafters’ Guild was on the Warriors’ Guild’s side.
Curiously, Thorfinn recognized two more representatives from the Traders’ Guild and Craftmen’s Guild. They seemed to disagree with both the side of the Engineers and the Warriors. ”Quiet down, all of you! You will speak your turn, and act as is appropriate!” Thorfinn commanded in a booming voice. The representatives quieted down and inclined their heads at the Yarl, but exchanged angry glances with each other. ”I will hear you all out, but this is the last time you burst into these halls unsummoned in this manner. Understood?” Thorfinn continued. The gathering of representatives nodded, and muttered their apologies to the Yarl. ”Grimli. Explain your accusation. Do you have evidence of this claim?” Thorfinn asked the old Warrior. ”I do, great Yarl.” Grimli said, and stepped forward. As he was old, tradition and respect was important to him. Thorfinn could see he was ashamed of having acted so disrespectfully. ”First, let me apologize for this rude manner in which we bring this matter to your attention. It was not our intention of being so… Dramatic.” Grimli said, and threw a hateful glance at Uthmar as he spoke the last word of the sentence. ”As you know, the resource stores are accounted for weekly, and watched daily by aides from each of the guilds. Lately, many stores have been lost to the tunnel collapses, and those we still have access to are running low on supplies of ores, materials and tools. Resources all the guilds use in one way or another, and pay the crown accordingly in tariffs.” Grimli continued. Uthmar rolled his eyes at the long and formal speech. ”Get to your point, Grim.” said Uthmar, annoyed. Thorfinn silenced Uthmar by raising his palm calmly. Uthmar obeyed. Grimli shot the engineer another angry glance before he continued. ”Lately, we have been noticing our supplies are running out faster than expected. Especially those of metal ore, gunpowder and a few chemical ingredients. As my aide was inspecting one of the stores, he came upon an errand-boy from the Engineers’ Guild, stuffing different supplies in a knapsack! He was caught red-handed stealing from the store!” As Grimli finished, a murmur rolled through the small gathering. Thorfinn raised a brow. ”Sounds like the word of a lone thief to me. Should he not be dealt with according to our laws, Grimli?” said Thorfinn. Grimli nodded. ”Aye, and as such we apprehended the youngling. However, as we gave him his opportunity to explain himself, he said he was only following the instructions of the Engineers’ Guild. Specifically, the orders of Uthmar!” said Grimli, and pointed a finger accusedly at the Engineer representative. ”He does not even deny it, great yarl! Uthmar ordered his aide to steal from the store to use in his own machinations!” finished Grimli, and took a step back. Thorfinn frowned. ”Is this true, Uthmar? Have you orchestrated theft from the Clan?” Uthmar shook his head. ”Of course not! This is all according to Clan law! Each guild gets to withdraw a certain amount of resources as they require it in their work! The Engineers’ and Inventors’ Guilds have been hard at work with making tools, machines and other devices to help our Clan survive the disaster that has befallen us. As such, we have used our right through the Law of Necessity to withdraw slightly over our quotas.” said Uthmar, calm and collective. It seemed Thorfinn’s authority had lent some order to the bickering representatives.
Thorfinn knew the law of necessity, though no one had enacted it for a couple centuries so the praxis was a bit out-dated. Uthmar was a very clever dwarf, but he was not sinister. If he had taken more supplies than the quotas allowed, it had been for a reason. Still, he had done so underhandedly and as such betrayed the trust of his fellow Guilds. While that itself is not a crime, it is important that unity among the Guilds is maintained, lest they be overcome by greed or anarchy.
Thorfinn nodded and stroked his beard in thought, then he faced Grimli. ”Do you object to what Uthmar is saying, Grimli?” he asked. Grimli shook his head. ”No. But I disagree. The Law of Necessity cannot be invoked in this manner.” the old warrior said. Thorfinn nodded once more, and then turned to the representatives from the Traders’ and Craftmen’s Guilds. ”And you, gentlemen? You seem to agree with neither Grimli nor Uthmar.” he asked them. Filin, the representative from the Traders’ Guild, was a young brownbeard and was clad quite ornately compared to the rest of the representatives. ”I cannot bring myself to agree with theft or the prosecution of one of our most esteemed guilds. However, I believe this can be settled in other ways. Monetary, for example.” said Filin, holding his chin high. ”Go on…” Thorfinn responded, crossing his arms. He knew Filin was probably only here to attempt to gain something out of this ordeal. ”The representative from the Craftmen’s Guild and we of the Traders’ Guild suggest that the Engineers’ and Inventors’ Guilds pay an increased tariff of their … Shall we say, extra acquired, goods. By compensating the other guilds for the deficiency of resources they are using, we can continue to maintain good relations and all get what we want in the end.” Filin finished. He almost sounded like a politician, Thorfinn thought. Then again… He is a politician. Grimli grunted. ”Great Yarl, it’s not about monetary compensation. It’s about honor and trust, and the fact that without metal with which to forge new weapons, we could fall to an enemy. No, the balance simply must be maintained.” he said.
Which representative will Thorfinn agree with? A) The Engineers’ and Inventors’ Guilds. The steady inflow of new tools and devices is imperative to our continued survival and the increasing growth of our great Clan. The Engineers and Inventors will have their larger share of our resources for now, until we can refill our stores. The Warriors’ and Runecrafters’ Guilds are sure to be upset by this decision.
B) The Warriors’ and Runecrafters’ Guilds. Without weapons, our warriors cannot protect us. What Uthmar has done is go behind the backs of his fellow guildsmen and stolen from the Underhall Clan. For this, he must be made to see the errors of his ways. The Engineers’ and Inventors’ Guilds are sure to be upset by this decision.
C) The Traders’ and Craftsmen’s Guilds Agree to the suggestion that the Engineers and Inventors simply pay an increased tax on the goods they need, to ensure that everyone feels a just exchange is being made. Even if this decision seems like it satisfies all parties, the Traders and Craftsmen are the ones who really benefit from this, however, and agreeing to this may be seen by some as Thorfinn giving favor to them.
---
Later that evening, as Macdoug and Deepstone ventured out with their warriors onto the fields of Dougsdahl, they stopped for a moment outside the mighty entrance to their halls to observe the setting sun. They hadn’t been out here for so long, it was almost nostalgic to see the sun again. Sending scouts ahead of them, the main party slowly descended through the mountain pass. They did not know what would await them at the fields, and so they were preparing for anything. A few paranoid warriors kept looking all over the mountains back and forth, expecting some sort of ambush.
Dougsdahl consisted of a few storehouses and burrows for dwelling. Farther away, a small watchtower doubling as a bunker loomed over the only road out of the valley. Just beyond the watchtower were the great western woods--cold, dark and misty. Not many dwarves had ventured into those woods, and even fewer had ever returned. As the warriors made their way through the streets among the dilapidated buildings, the sounds of whatever animals they had heard before gradually quietened. Madoug and Deepstone ordered a halt, and the group readied themselves. A muffled scraping sound could be heard from one of the houses, further down the road. It was the remains of what once had been a tavern, and as such the most visited building in the small village. ”Ready yourselves, lads.” said Deepstone, quietly. The warriors were ready already, however. Slowly, out of the doorless entrance of the ruined tavern, crawled a ghoul-like pale being with hideously long teeth, deep sunken black eyes and disproportionately long arms ending in spear-like claws. What was so terrifying about this ghoul was the fact that it had no lower body, and no jaw. Its tongue dangled lifelessly down where its jaw was supposed to be, and it used its long arms to crawl along the ground, dragging the rest of its body with it. Perhaps the most terrifying part, however, was that it vaguely resembled a dwarf.
”By the Stoneshaper…” one of the warriors gasped under his breath. As if the creature had supernatural hearing, its head jerked towards the group of dwarves. As it spotted them, it shrieked and gurgled and charged straight at them. Macdoug readied his axe. ”Slay it in Thorfinn’s name!” he cried, and the dwarves charged together in unison. The ghoul slammed one long limb into the first-charging dwarf, throwing him back. The second, third and fourth dwarves however guided their axes true, and sunk their steel into the ghoul’s flesh. It gurgled and yelled in pain, and at last a fifth warrior managed to lop its head clean off with a well-aimed strike. As the head rolled down the street, the dwarves followed it with their eyes. They were too shocked of what they had just witnessed to speak to each other. The head came to a halt as it bumped into the wall of another of the ruined houses, and as it did another scraping noise could be heard from it. Another ghoul stretched its long limbs out of the window of the dwelling, and stared at the dwarves, who formed back up and readied themselves for another fight. One after another however, more ghouls started to appear in the windows and empty doorways of the ruined houses all around them. The dwarves were around 50, and Deepstone did a quick count of the ghouls he could see and concluded they weren’t more than a dozen, but who is to say there aren’t more just below another rock?
-
Meanwhile, along the many passes and slopes of the Everwinter Mountains, the huntsmaster and her rangers searched for animals to be domesticated. While they had spotted a few goatherds, they had not yet managed to successfully trap any of them and bring back. Somehow the goats were crafty, and way smarter than they look.
The hunt continues, but the hunters won’t be successful until next turn.
-
Harald and his warriors set out into the wilderness. Who knows what they will find?
This turn consisted mainly of the expedition readying themselves. More to come.
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: 816 Livestock: - Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population. Infrastructure: N/A Food level: Low Resources:
Timber
Copper
Stone (different sorts)
Wealth: - Trade: - Growth: +2% Base: 2%. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level. Morale: 100% Foreign relations: N/A
The old words that his former master had told him back when he was nothing more then a neophyte echoed in the darkened mind of Jasper Silverpine. The stone in his hand offered much in the way of raw power to be taken advantage of and used, but the... vision he had borne witness to suggested that the stone had secrets that he would need to come to understand before he attempted to delve to deeply. Still, he would keep it close at hand, safely contained if a sudden boost in raw power was required.
As the lock-box that would be the stone's new home was sealed and put away, another of his followers entered his quarters to bring to his attention a matter of mortal concern; While food was no longer a requirement for the undead, having -all- the local animals suffer from a wasting sickness was a serious problem that needed to be addressed and quickly. At first glance it seemed to be a matter of debating between pressing forward with the limited resources they had to try and salvage both herds at the same time in order to benefit the settlement in the long term but risk short term losses, or selecting one of the animals to focus efforts on... but as the Lord pondered the situation, a third option started to present itself to him that he normally wouldn't consider.
There were three major paths for a death knight when it came to magic. While they could access all three, part of the ritual of ascension required one of the three to become infused with your very core, so intertwined with your soul and physical body that it would allow you to defy even death itself. Some chose to embrace the icy chill of the grave and became masters of ice and snow, able to freeze their enemies bodies, minds and even souls. Others instead embraced the power of necromancy itself, becoming plague bearers able to unleash horrific melodies on their victims, as well as raise armies of lesser undead to lead into battle.
Lord Silverpine had embraced the path of Blood. While the layman saw it as a path of battle and death (and there was some justification for that), those who truly followed the path understood that it was a path of life and death. What made those who followed the path of blood so feared was that they fed off the life energy of their enemies and victims, using it to heal and empower themselves even as they moved on to the next foe to meet them in battle and left broken bodies in their wake. Plus he had wanted to test out the extent of his empowered magic anyway...
Slowly, a cruel looking smile started to slowly appear on Lord Silverpine's face. Turning his gaze to the servant whom had informed him of the situation and had politely waited in silence for the Lord's answer, Jasper gave an order. "The animals you have gathered so far. I want the herders to search through them and select two goats and two boars that are the strongest and healthiest of their respective herds, as well as two of the weakest and sickest of both. Secure the rest of the animals together and have those four restrained so they cannot move outside of the pens. I will be informed once this is done. Do not let me detain you."
Things did not take long to get organized. The stronger and healthier specimens of the boar and goats were generally more lively then their counterparts and were easy to spot, but the sad truth was they were still much weaker and smaller then a healthy member of their species should have been. Selecting two animals that were sicker and unlikely to recover was... something more of a challenge. Still, they were separated and restrained outside of the pens in which the rest of their herds were pinned together as per Lord Siverpine's request. A runner was sent... and the Lord appeared shortly afterwards.
The herders saw the look of annoyance on their Lord's face at the sight of the quality of the animals they had selected for him, but it seemed to lose some of the heat when he let his gaze look over the rest of the animals: While the lord was clearly annoyed by the what qualified as the 'strongest, healthiest' of the animals, this was the best that they had to work with and such a fact was clearly understood. Lord Silverpine gestured one of the herders over, but when he talked it was easy for all of them to hear. "We are going to require another 'healthy' boar. Annoying, but we work with the tools we have."
It took a little more time, but another boar was selected and brought out to join the other four. Only then did Lord Silverpine finally step forward. With a gesture, the herders backed away to give their lord some room. Pulling out a thin dirk, Lord Silverpine moved between the animals and repeated the same gesture: A quick thrust with the dirk into their side so that the blade sunk all the way to the hilt before pulling it out again and leaving a small, deep but non fatal wound. The animal would of course cry out in pain and struggle, but they were to weak and frail with sickness to risk breaking free of their bonds.
Once all the animals had been wounded in this fashion, the dirk was put away and Lord Silverpine took a stance in front of the pens that the herders had never seen before. For a moment, nothing seemed to be happening... at least until the restrained animals started to buck and move with renewed energy. At first nothing appeared to be wrong... until from each animal trails of what appeared to be... not blood, but the same red color without the texture of liquid started pour out of each of the wounds and float through the air before meeting and started to form a massive blood red ball that hovered in the air.
As more and more of the strange, blood red energy left the animals their struggles started to slow... then stopped completely as the trails finally ran dry and the sphere was fully formed, leaving the animals dead on the ground. Without a word, his eyes closed, Lord Silverpine gestured and seemed to push the orb so that it hovered out over both pens. At some unspoken signal, dozens of tendrils formed from the orb and zoomed out, each one connecting with a different goat or boar. While the animals were startled at first, their sickly nature prevented much in the way of outcry... but those witnessing what was happening could see the red energy from the sphere being funneled into the animals.
As the orb started to shrink, the animals in the pens started to look... well, healthier. A new strength and vitality that had not been there before was starting to emerge, giving the sick and frail a proper fighting case at recovery and giving the herders efforts to nurse the herds back to health a much needed head start. Once the orb finally ran empty and disappeared completely, Lord Silverpine simply turned to walk away as his ritual was complete. "Tend to them both. These animals are ours now." was all he said as he departed.
Rather then using the moonstone all at once, Jasper instead seals it in a lockbox to be brought out in the event that he needs a sudden power boost in the future, with intentions to uncover its mysteries properly before being used often.
In order to test out his new found power, as well as to help settle the decision about which sickly herd they should focus on, Lord Silverpine performed a blood magic ritual, siphoning the life energy of some of the strongest and healthiest of the animals alongside some of the weakest and least likely to recover before funneling the combined total of their lives among the rest in order to give them the health and strength to have a fighting chance at recovery on their own, as well as give the herders an easier time nursing both herds back to true health.
