Wenbo stood on the veranda of the royal bed chambers, at the very top floor of the Mengcheng palace. It was dark out, but then again, it was always dark out under the sea. The vicious drums of meteors striking the surface had long since subsided, and all that coloured the deep water soundscape now was the buzz of their own city below. The contrast of red flickers of flame dancing in the shade of the abyss was almost ominous - such light had likely never reached this deep before. Another quiet prayer escaped his lips to thank Yullian for this opportunity - now, even the deep seas could be mapped and explored.
“Still up, father?” came a sweet voice and Wenbo turned to see his eldest daughter Bei, who approached holding a torch. Wenbo struck a half-grin.
“It’s difficult to tell what time of day it is down here. Neither Heliopolis’ rays nor the Garden’s sheen can dive this deep.”
Bei deposited the torch in a nearby bracket and sat down in a chair by the veranda door. “I miss the day, to be honest. All this darkness all the time is, frankly, a little depressing. Why are we still submerged?”
Wenbo hummed. “To be fair, my dear, I cannot really answer that adequately. The fire of the sky stopped quite recently, didn’t it?”
“A few days ago, if I recall correctly.”
“Oh, is that so? Well, in that case, I will have a word with Chuanwang about our ascent.”
Bei smiled warmly. “Thanks, father.”
“Please, don’t be so formal, Bei-by.”
Bei flushed red and giggled. “S-stop! That name was never clever or funny!”
“Indeed, it was always quite un-bei-able, wasn’t it?”
A snort escaped Bei’s laughter. “Dad, you’re awful!”
“No, little Bei,” Wenbo protested with a smirk, “I am Wen-derful.”
“If my husband turns out like you, I will jump off this turtle.”
The two kept chuckling for a short moment before an odd sound cut through. It was like a squeal - a very distant squeal, but not one made by a Dreamer. Wenbo frowned.
“Did you hear something?”
“Y-yeah?” Bei voiced with concern.
From within the darkness of the water surrounding the city, lines of light appeared in a small area. They shimmered and twisted and blinked. A long, slender red form with tentacles and a great eye could be seen briefly as the originator of the light before inky blackness swallowed the scene. A low, haunting otherworldly call sounded shortly afterwards.
A rumble trembled through the city and both knew it was Chuanwang.
“He is uneasy,” Wenbo mumbled. Bei swallowed.
“Dad, tell him to resurface.”
“Agreed. Let’s go.” The pair rushed through the palace with quick steps. They had barely made it down to the third floor before they were stopped by Ai wearing an equally concerned expression.
“Did you hear that?”
“We did,” Wenbo confirmed. “We are on our way to tell Chuanwang to swim to the surface.”
“Oh, good. Be swift. We don’t know what the ocean holds.”
They exchanged nods and Wenbo and Bei continued. Out in the courtyard, a few had stopped in their tracks to stare up through the shield bubble that surrounded the city. Some children were sobbing. Around the gate to the Hermian Academy, the guards stared fearfully at the ink cloud.
“You look like you’ve had a nightmare,” Wenbo said to them.
“Th-there was something out there, my lord,” one of them said in a quivering voice. “Something h-huge.”
“Is that so? What did it look like?”
“We’ve… We’ve never seen anything like it!”
“Dad, we cannot delay,” Bei interjected before Wenbo could probe any further.
“Right,” the dreamer lord muttered. “Worry not, guards, we’ll soon be up on the surface again. For now, open these gates, if you’d please.”
The gates swung open and the pair headed swiftly towards the back wall of the Academy square.
As they walked, another sensation came over the Dreamers. Their skin prickled and their hair stood on end. Another tremble shuddered through the city. Wenbo drew a gasp.
“He’s felt something - a presence.”
“Chuanwang has?” They picked up their pace.
“Yes, and I doubt he will be able to avoid it peacefully from how he describes it.” He took Bei by the shoulder. “Tell all the guards to spread throughout the city. Tell everyone to get off the streets and take shelter inside their homes. If they have a cellar, have them hide down there along with as many neighbours as they can fit.”
“R-right!” She took the old Dreamer’s hand. “Be safe, dad.”
Wenbo smiled. “I won’t pass on into Moksha quite yet. Now go.”
Bei nodded and ran back to the guards. Wenbo continued onwards towards the wall, praying all the while that his voice would carry to Chuanwang’s ears even through the barrier. As he approached, the prickling sensation on his skin grew stronger. The shell beneath Wenbo’s feet twitched and shuddered. Chuanwang suddenly roared and the city was briefly tossed to the right. Wenbo lost his footing and nearly fell off the stairs leading to the battlements. A creaking fence was all that had kept him from an early ascent to Moksha.
“Don’t worry, Chuanwang, just hold on, alri--WOAH!” Another toss sent him to the left, where the fence nearly gave out. Grabbing onto both sides, Wenbo took a moment to stabilise, calling out, “CHUANWANG! SWIM UP!” There came no reaction and the lord grit his teeth. He would have to get closer. He kept climbing, distant screams and weeps coming from the city behind him as another twitch thundered through its stone foundations.
Wenbo reached the rampants with great difficulty and peeked over the side. It was dark, the barrier extending but a quarter of a metre away from the edge of the wall. If he stretched out, he could potentially pierce it with his hand. He drew a deep breath.
“Chuanwang! What ails you?!”
Another quake rumbled through the city, but Wenbo only frowned at it. “Yes, I realise it’s painful, but -what- is causing it?!”
No answer. “Damn it, you still can’t hear me, can you…” Wenbo looked around for solutions. In the meantime, the city’s foundation began to quake even more. It titled forwards, backwards and sidewards, as if Chuanwang was trying to kick something away. A distant cacophony of tumbling stone told Wenbo one of their construction projects had finally reached its limit for what it could withstand. He tried punching at the barrier while shouting for the turtle. All he managed was to pierce it with his fists, although at this pressure the water was much harder than he had expected. Wenbo felt the sting of cold water and a jolt of electricity run from his hand through his chest. He cursed to himself, and the tremors continued for a while until they eventually stopped, along with the prickling sensation.
Wenbo blinked and tried once more to look over the side of the ramparts, frowning as he remembered the futility of it. Once more, he tried to shout, “CHUANWANG! SWIM UP!” This time, the ground seemed to tilt backwards and Wenbo grabbed onto the wall for support. It was still uncertain whether Chuanwang had actually heard him or if he simply was annoyed at the lifeforms this deep, but either way, the goal had been accomplished. He looked up to see the very distant twinkles of day peek through waves and wildlife. It wouldn’t be long before they could see again.
The ascent was lengthy, giving time for the Dreamers’ eyes to begin to adapt to the brightness above. When Chuanwang reached the surface, the barrier peeled back like a bubble as it met the open air. Pure, unfiltered sunlight streamed down into the city. The sound of waves and splashing water washed in from outside, crisp and unfettered by ocean and barrier. A fresh, salty sea breeze blew in and swept away the stale smoke-tinged air which the inhabitants of Mengcheng had been making and breathing for the past few days.
Around the city on the back on Chuanwang stretched open ocean as far as the eye could see. Deep blue rippled and shone with reflected sunlight beneath an azure canvas painted with fluffy white clouds. Nearby frolicked a pod of dolphins, making creaking chirps and curiously inspecting the new arrival. Wenbo drew a gasp and chuckled to himself, the laughter increasing in intensity as it went on. He stretched out his arms and let out a loud cheer, grabbing onto the wall again shortly after as the wind threatened to push him off balance.
“My lord!” came a call behind him and he turned to see general Ming.
“Ming! Come up here! The wind feels wonderful!” He took a deep breath. “Ah, can you taste that crisp air?”
“My lord, with all due respect, you’ll get sick if you stand in the wind for too long!”
“Sick? Me? Nooooo… Besides, doctor Zhou will make me all better.” He blinked as if realising something. “Oh, hold on a moment.”
“My lord, I must insist--”
“Hey, Chuanwang! Are you alright?”
There came a surly rumble that dissipated slowly. Wenbo nodded with the occasional hum. “Right, so your leg got bitten by a tiny weird snake?”
“My lord…?”
“How’d it even bite through your skin? Aren’t you made of stone?” “Lord Wenbo!”
“What?”
“There have been multiple accidents, my lord. Please, if you would come along.”
“Accidents?” The joy of fresh air and freedom disappeared in an instant. “Has anyone gotten hurt?”
“It… May be best if the lord sees for himself.” The two then proceeded down the ramparts towards the city.
The cacophony of crumbling buildings earlier hadn’t been exaggerated. The industrial square had fortunately not suffered any damage to the furnaces that could’ve caused an outbreak of fire, but a number of storehouses built by the Dreamers had crumbled, and the pottery inside with them. A number of tents and stalls in the market had fallen over, and perhaps most devastating was the loss of a nearly full silo of grain, a golden sea of freshly harvested wheat laying spread across the streets. Wenbo rubbed a pair of tired eyes.
“Have there been any other accidents?”
Ming hung her head. “Only one, my lord. This way.”
The general led him down the southern streets, almost towards the agricultural hub wall. There, a heap of crumbled stone lay behind steadier constructions. Judging from the age of the materials, it was one of the newer houses, built primarily to serve as a storehouse. However, it was not uncommon for these to have cellars too, or lead to cellars, and this one in particular had been constructed right above a trapdoor down to a large storage area. A number were already digging away at the rocks to access the door, but a small distance away from the heap laid two woven blankets, contours in the fabric revealing still, humanoid shapes underneath. Wenbo drew a sharp gasp.
“... Who were they?”
“They have been identified as the young Zhong Renai and Temur - my sister’s children.”
“My deepest condolences, general. I cannot even fathom what it must be like to, to lose someone so abruptly.”
“My sister is below, my lord. She will likely be in greater need of warm words than me.” She rested her hand on the pommel of her clay shortsword. “How will you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Put them to rest, my lord.”
Wenbo furrowed his brow and stepped over to the blankets. He pulled the closest one away slightly and shut his eyes hard at the sight. “No dreamer has passed on since, since Urangtai. His manner of death made burning the most… Convenient.” He winced at his own diction. “... I should consult Moksha about this, or Zhong Wang. Wang might have a solution.”
“The headmaster will likely be grieving as well, my lord. Renai was a beloved niece of his.”
“I see. That is understandable, then.”
“Furthermore, if I may speak frankly, my lord…”
“Go on.”
“... It should be up to their families to decide how they are returned to the clay.”
Wenbo hummed and eventually nodded. “You’re right, I… I spoke out of line. Their mother shall be the one to decide.”
At that moment came another rumble and the Dreamers in the area all jerked to face the front of their city. Wenbo grit his teeth and Ming threw him a worried frown.
“What is it, my lord? What is he saying?”
“There’s more out there. He senses another presence. Stay here. I will go back!”
“My lord!”
“Stay here!”
Ming froze and glared at the ground. Squeezing the pommel of her blade, she nodded slowly. “Yes, my lord.”
“Good. I will be right back.”
Wenbo hurried through the streets, which were being emptied as people once more retreated into their houses to avoid being tossed everywhere in case Chuanwang had to move. He appreciated that the city wasn’t very long, but closer to the Hermian Academy, the streets grew a little too zig-zaggy to be efficient. He eventually reached the ramparts from before, though, and looked over the side to see what Chuanwang had laid his eyes on.
In the water nearby moved an enormous shape, far larger than any whale or other sea beast Wenbo had seen. It looked bulbous, although its patterning and colouration made it nearly impossible to distinguish its exact outline. Then stripes and colours danced across the creature’s surface. A greeting, territorial but not hostile.
Chuanwang rumbled. Wenbo nodded. “Yes, maintain a friendly attitude. We cannot risk any more conflict.” Wenbo waved weakly and shouted, “Hello! Don’t mind us, please - we’re just passing by!” The sea breeze tossed his long, black hair out of its braid.
The creature’s colours shifted to a speckled reddish-pink. Frills stretched along the edge of the bulbous form, tentacles waved below it, and two giant eyes looked up at Wenbo and the city of Dreamers. The Kraken raised a couple of tentacles and became blue with a few shifting yellow circles, the patterns saying, Where did you come from? Where are you going?
Wenbo smiled. “Aha. M-hm. An honour to meet you, great marvel of the sea. We are the Dreamers, and we last came from the depths after hiding from the rain of fire. We are heading, well, wherever the great turtle takes us.”
The Kraken turned black with red zig-zags at the mention of the rain of fire - a fearful gesture. It shifted back to a neutral speckled reddish-pink, Then the Kraken became a black-blue gradient with more yellow circles and waving arms, a gesture saying, Where before the depths?
Wenbo hummed. “Our last landfall was on the land south of here - lots of mountains and horribly frightening monsters further inland. Though…” A frown coloured his face. “If you mean our true home, I suppose I should say Tendlepog.”
The former continent’s description garnered confusion from the Kraken, but it seemed to understand the latter. The Kraken’s eyes scanned across Wenbo, Chuanwang and the city. Then it sunk back beneath the waves, blending in with the water and disappearing from sight.
Wenbo looked over the ramparts, seeing nothing but the huge shell and the faint silhouette of Chuanwang’s head. “Did he leave?” The turtle grumbled. “Oh, I see. Well, better hope he doesn’t scare the life out of anyone down hubwards.” He smiled and spun around, but before he could set a foot on the stairs, a cold seabreeze soared by. Wenbo inhaled and let out a sneeze. He dabbed his sleeve on his runny nose and cleared his throat. Shaking his head for a minute, he then proceeded back towards the city. And Chuanwang continued to swim slowly through the ocean, with the city on his back.
Chuanwang and Mengcheng and the Dreamers are underwater. The creatures of the deep are spooking them. Before they can ascend, a Deep-Terror attacks Chuanwang. Chuanwang is mostly unharmed, but the conflict causes a few buildings to collapse. A lot of grain is lost, and two Dreamers are killed.
Chuanwang returns to the surface. The Kraken pops by to figure out who this strange creature is, where they came from and where they are going. The Kraken lurks around quietly.
“We shall be pure of heart and strong of body…” Fu Lai’an said in a bubbly voice. Before her a large crowd of pygmy children echoed her words.
“Untainted by doubt and never lacking honor…”
“Untainted by doubt and never lacking honor!”
“Guided by the Mẹta, core the World Pillars--”
“Guided by the Mẹta, core the World Pillars--”
Fu Lai’an raised a finger to signal to the children that attention here was especially critical. “Might in the face of one's work; Guile in the face of the enemy; Vision in face of the future.”
The children chimed after: “Might in the face of one's work; Guile in the face of the enemy; Vision in face of the future.”
Fu Lai’an nodded proudly. “Each must strive to embody all three as an ideal for prosperity.”
The children sang along: “Each must strive to embody all three as an ideal for prosperity!”
“For if any is weak in a single one it may falter the whole.”
“For if any is weak in a single one it may falter the whole!”
“So all must strive for a thousand times for a thousand years.”
“So all must strive for a thousand times for a thousand years!”
Fu Lai’an patted one of the closest ones and it flashed her an eager smile. “Now remember, kids - unto the very end of eternity.”
The children threw their hands into the air. “Unto the very end of eternity!”
It had been a number of months since Narzhak’s visit. Since then, Anu had demanded redoubled efforts into a total overhaul of state control over the pygmies. The Mẹta, also known as the Oath, was only one of the steps on the way to a nation devoted entirely to the betterment of the collective.
Within weeks of the visit, the King’s officials had nationalised every rice paddy, assuming full control of production, collection and redistribution of rice. All the farmers were employed with a salary consisting of ration chips, with additional bonuses in store for the hard-working. Management of the farms were given to the very first foremen - the first generation of which had been selected based on excellent conduct as a citizen of Talemon. Such was the temporary system while the Council drafted proper examination processes. At this stage, however, the introduction of the system faced a number of protests, especially from the farmers whose homes were taken from them. While the ration chip salary was higher than what they would normally receive from a harvest, it did not outweigh the drawbacks of losing their land. These protests, however, were immediately portrayed as a betrayal against the greater nation and punished accordingly, and within a year, they had disappeared.
Another source of protests was the relatively immediate implementation of the Ntọala, the castes. To ensure maximum efficiency on every level of society, citizens would now dedicate their lives to perfecting their crafts and skills - much in the same way the Servants were organised:
Carrying the society on their backs were the Laala caste - the builders, farmers, engineers, potters, claydiggers; they were those who worked the industries of Talemon. Their caste was the largest.
Protecting the society from the many new beasts of the plains and jungle were the Ogun - the warriors, warmasons and mansa of the Talemon. Their numbers were few, especially the mansa, but warleader Qiang Quan was certain that both men and mana would appear in the future, allowing for a much expanded military.
Managing the society fell to the Oludari - the administrators, merchants, diplomats, bureaucrats and overseers. This was the second smallest caste, consisting only of the trial foremen and a few personal servants and assistants to the councillors.
Finally, those who lead the society made up the Oba caste, and theirs was an exclusive position. The caste had merely five members, those being the four councillors - and His Majesty.
Initially, this quick overhaul and rigidisation of society fueled great outrage - especially since children were taken from their parents at the age of ten to apprentice for the various crafters, farmers, warriors or bureaucrats, depending on what they showed an affinity for. As with those who protested against nationalisation of farmlands and industry, these rebels were dealt with accordingly. The will of Anu would not be denied.
However, the Council quickly saw that this system had great room for expansion. Furthermore, the clay pits on the Talemonese side of the river were running dry. Crossing Beihe would require vessels akin to that of His Lordship, but sophisticated boats required tools they simply had no concept of. Much could be achieved with sticks and stones, but it would be impossible to make ships in Jiangzhou’s image with such primitive tools. With these three points in their mind, the council approached His Majesty in the second year.
“Your Majesty,” Zhu Rongyuan began. “The people are at last beginning to adjust to His Majesty’s philosophy of the World Pillars. Great prosperity will be within Your mighty grasp in time. However, a number of points remain to be addressed.”
Fu Lai’an nodded. “The Pygmy population number much too few, Your Majesty. At their current rate of reproduction, it will take decades, if not centuries for Tal Eren to become the jewel of might and wealth we all dream it to be.”
Yong Cai pinched her chin ponderously. “While on the subject of wealth - additional claypits must be prospected. We are certain there are more on the other side of Beihe, perhaps by the tributaries running down great Qiangshan. However, to cross back and forth, with clay no less, we will require ships.”
Qiang Quan crossed his arms over his chest. “His Majesty’s warmasons can lend their hands in such an effort. The lions have moved further into the Knucklelands, and we can safely spare a small number to assist the civilians.”
Yong Cai nodded. “Thank you, warleader. What does His Majesty think?”
The big king rolled one his locks in his hand. ”I can exert some power to boost our numbers. No easy task but it can be done.” he acquiesced, nodding towards no one in particular. ”Can river-worthy vessel built with our current resources?”
“Well, our tools are insufficient to make great vessels, but…” Yong Cai tapped her chin. “I reckon we could get by by tying logs together with vines. We have seen that even great trunks can float on the river during floods - if we were to build a platform of them, we could at least create something that would let us float. Pygmies will need to paddle with their hands for thrust, however.”
”Could they handle the weight of clay and men without capsizing?”
“That will have to be tested,” the master architect responded.
”Do so.”
Yong Cai bowed deeply. “Right away, Your Majesty.” She turned to some servants and delegated the order further. Qiang Quan instructed his own to ready a number of warmasons, too. Zhu Rongyuan approached the king a little closer and bowed.
“Your Majesty, regarding the population numbers…”
”Speak.” he said without looking.
Zhu Rongyuan bowed his head deeper than usual. “His Majesty is of divine blood. In order to truly get His civilisation going, there is an urgent need for additional Pygmies. This servant is much too rude for even considering this question, but… Does His Majesty possibly have a way to bend the rules of nature so that His people may grow to be much more numerous in the near future?”
Golden disks landed on the servant, with neither hostility nor compassion. ”Cherished Zhu, I bend nature to my will, so is my birthright.” Iron-scepter in hand the ape rose. ”To me, we make for the city’s edge.”.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Zhu Rongyuan said and followed along after. As did the other three councillors.
As they walked the city's main thoroughfare, Pygmies kowtowed by the tens before their king, it wasn't long at all before the vast stretch of plains opened up before them, only broken in the distance by the farmlands and river.
Anu looked upon the land for a moment, then nodded. With a heave the king raised his ironspike high and drove it into the ground in one smooth motion. It sunk deep, nearly half the thing disappearing into the grass. An instant later the ground began to quake, the earth before them becoming like dough, soft and moldable. From will alone shapes grew rose from the much, all of varying heights and visages, all pygmies. Before long the shaking ceased, and outside the city stood a full cohort of flesh and blood.
The ape heaved a breathe. ”Welcome our new citizens.” he sighed, looking at the council and nodding towards the newborn adults, then padding back down the mainstreet. ”And someone bring my scepter.”
A pygmy servant quickly came over with the Narzhakian scepter. The councillors began to inspect and divide the adults into the Laala and the Ogun castes based on builds. Zhu and Fu took a number for themselves to serve in the Oludari. Zhu then approached the king, bowed and said, “His Majesty has once more proven His divinity. We are eternally blessed to be governed by such a magnificent being.” His watery eyes scanned the crowd. “... Our population has multiplied significantly. This servant will need to assess the contents of the granaries again and recalculate rations…” He eyed Anu with determination burning in his gaze. “This servant recommends the majority go to the farmlands.”
The giant pursed his lips, gazing upon the crowd himself. ”Divide them as you see fit.” he ordered.
“As His Majesty wishes.”
In order to avoid mass starvation, the rations for each pygmy was reduced to little more than the scrapings required to survive. Odd was it not that the overall health and strength of the nation deteriorated somewhat, and some of the older pygmies began to fear a return to the Hard Times - the time before Shengshi had blessed them with food safety. Quickly, a program was initiated at the order of His Majesty - a project that occupied much of his own time with study into his divine power, the abilities of the mansa, and the attributes of his people. Talemon needed workers - even more than they already had. Deep in the recesses of Tal Eren they worked. Mansa; having learned the ways of world-bending by will of word alone thanks to the guidance of the Dragon, constructed spells that warped and twisted natural flesh into something different. Zhu catalogued the working ones into spell lists while Anu and a number of servants took pygmy flesh and his own ichor and joined them together in a basin pit. Deep in the belly of the capital thousands of abominations where sired from the matrimony, beasts without intelligence, monsters with more eyes then teeth and demons with more heads then eyes. All were slain, returned, and reconstituted again until after months of intense labor and bloodletting, progress was made. A hominid, albeit misshapen, was synthesized with the right amount of parts. Unfortunately intelligence wasn’t up to standards. Tweaks were made to the spell list and experimentation went on. With a years work errors were strained from the process until a spell list promising consistency had been synthesised. A template for the most basic of worker, short and stocky with a fur shorter than that of a Pygmy and intelligence affording them the ability to perform any sort of task and a loyalty and obedience so deep self-preservation meant nothing if commanded otherwise. Tests began to be run. Tests Anu meant to see the results of himself.
”Your Majesty.” a pygmy guard said as evening began its descent on the city. The king paid him mind as he crossed the threshold of the temple’s lower levels.
Nowhere near as large as palace, the Temple of Chains the mighty king erected himself was nevertheless great in size. A large plaza open and empty encircled it's centerpiece, a box-like structure of clay and jutting wooden logs, simple and elegant yet a menacing structure in it's own right. Yet the complex only served as crown atop the factory of flesh active below.
Anu moved with a sense of purpose, striding through the main fire-lit corridor large enough to accommodate him comfortably. In his mind’s eye the pit revealed itself, complete with the core serving as the trunk and the main corridors branching off it, beyond the darkened archways of the various secured entrances, as its limbs. There didn't seem to be any reason to why a corridor was placed where it was, or given the length that it had, they just appeared to have sprouted organically off the core as needed, created when the pit was dug from the earth by his divine will. Despite it all, its order was more than clear.
A sudden gust of fetid air swirled up the core from far below and the contingent following Anu found themselves grimacing at the foul smell it carried to their nostrils, the king remained unperturbed moving forward until he was stepping off the final stair onto the packed earth of the core's floor.
Before him sprawled the core, a massive box, with the corridor he was now stepping in, running along its top in the form of a broad walkway that bridged the vast space. A number of guards strode along the walkway, their attention on the space below. That space was further divided into a number of individual chambers, a number of which were pens, regular squares divided from each other by heavy stone walls, with narrow passageways grouping the square pens into blocks of six.
A number of slightly larger pens stood against the far wall, somewhat separated from the rest by both a passageway and a heavy wall. Here magic was at work, a handful of mansa grimly at task creating Ikhobo–the stocky hominds that had been perfected in the last few weeks–from the primordial mixture of flesh and godblood that filled massive pools. Together, they formed a vast grid, regularly patrolled by a dozen guards.
A thin pygmy approached Anu from the catwalk and kowtowed. ”Your Majesty.” she greeted in a soft breath.
”Rise, taskmaster. Has the first batch been prepared?” She did so.
”Yes, your Majesty. Please follow me.” Quickly she set off across the main walkway and into another entrance that's wound down into a great room were an entire cohort of Ikhobo stood stark naked. Zhu was already there, inspecting them himself.
“Ah, Your Majesty,” the councillor said with a deep bow. “Come, come - these servants are certain His Majesty will find the result to be exquisite.” He gestured to the cohort.
Hands behind his back, the big king strode down the line, his eyes critical as he examined the new slaves. Hands clasped at their front, heads thrown back proudly, and their legs separated in parade stance, the Ikhobo were imposing creatures, ready to serve in any capacity.
”Do they meet your approval, Your Majesty.” the taskmaster inquired.
The ape grunted. ”Marginally.” he replied, gazing back down the like. ”How quickly are the pits working now?”
”At full-capacity, Your Majesty. We should have a second cohort by morning.”
Anu nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. ”What say you, Zhu? Are they to standard?”
“We tested them in the clay pits yesterday. They are perhaps a little slow to adapt to new situations - we had one be crushed underneath a rockslide and it took a considerable time before the others elected to aid it. However, there is no doubt as to how capable they are as labourers.”
”Maybe some added intelligence would do them good. But as long as they do their job, little else matters.”
“Intelligence may be added later. For now, this cohort will be shipped across the river to work.”
”So be it.” the ape agreed and nodded towards the taskmaster.
She kowtowed. ”At once, Your Majesty.” Immediately she and a cadre of guards went marching the Ikhobo out of the hall.
”Might we set on the first set of deviations?” he huffed, glancing at his councilman.
“Our attempts to alter the template have been,” Zhu drew a shameful breath, “most unsuccessful so far. Beyond the simple ikhobo, any immediate deviations have resulted in grotesque, misshapen creations. This servant’s afraid more research is required.”
Anu guffed, his laugh like crashing waves. ”Failure is only a stepping stone, as long as you don't die, it is just another step. Come, we begin immediately.”
While Anu and Zhu dedicated themselves to research, Yong Cai and Qiang Quan were experimenting with rafts along the banks of Beihe.
In the beginning, these were little more than pygmies clambering to trunks and doing their best to paddle across the river. Needless to say, this did not work. The next project involved tying together trunks using jungle vines. This worked better - at least it floated - but still it required one or two pygmies to push it from behind in order to gather thrust. By the end of the year, rafts sizeable enough to carry up to three pygmies with two more doing the paddling had been constructed. These began to bring workers over to the other bank of Beihe. Slowly, but surely, adequately numbrous worker teams began to gather on the bank, using sticks and stones to sample and prospect the mud. Upon inspection, Yong Cai found that it was of quite good quality, much like the clay on the opposite bank.
“Set up camp and start transporting clay back across. Oh, and tell those on the opposite bank to keep improving the rafts. I will not have any of that precious clay lost into Beihe, is that clear?”
“Yes, Master Architect!” the elected foreman answered and went on to bark orders at the rest. Soon enough, lay-tos were erected against the many trees, and a simple perimetre was set by the warriors guided by Qiang Quan. The jungle along the bank was, much in the same way as the clay, similar to its cousin on the opposite side of the river. However, as the warriors noted, the air felt different - wilder, savager. A faint tinge of sulphur clung to the air, and from the mountains far to the north, occasional beastly echoes rung out through the aether.
Still, though, the clay made its way back to the city without too many issues beyond the occasional sinking. After a while, the clay pits moved further and further north, until they reached the Qiangshan tributaries. In the fourth year, it was there the Talemonese fate was forever altered.
Yong Cai had just gotten back to the new claypit camps after a quick retreat to the capitol when one of the workers came running up to her and bowed.
“Master architect! We have uncovered a strange, green stone in the rock by the mountain!”
Yong Cai blinked. “A green stone? That doesn’t sound like clay at all. What are you doing up in the mountains?”
The worker straightened herself back up. “This one and some others went to prospect higher up along the tributaries - the clay there is odd, and the water blinks at us when we stare into it. Up there, we found this green stone.”
Yong Cai furrowed her brow. “Is it jade?”
“What is jade, Master Architect?” the worker inquired.
“Nevermind,” Yong Cai replied and cleared her throat. “Bring this servant to it - and have the warleader dispatch a small warband to escort us.”
“Right away, Master Architect,” said the worker dutifully and jogged off into the camps. Yong Cai pinched her chin in thought as she tried to align the description of ‘green stone’ with anything she had previously heard of. However, nothing she had observed aboard Jiangzhou, with the except of jade and emeralds, matched such a description. As their escort came and they moved towards the area in question, she pondered all the while at the nature of this material.
The journey to this the pit in question was long - so long that Yong Cai doubted that it was particularly effective. It took them a day and a half to reach the beginning of the hills, but upon discovering what the pygmies had found in those prospection pits, Yong Cai took back all her doubts.
“Send for more workers immediately, and begin hacking this stone apart.”
The pygmies got to work, but their leader approached Yong Cai with a curious look. “With all due respect, Master Architect, what is it that has been found here?”
The master builder scooped into her hand a number of small green specks from the sandy clay at her feet through which could be spotted additional stripes of the same jade colour. A smile formed on her lips. “This colour matches that of His Lordship’s tripod pots if they sit too long without proper maintenance.” She pocketed the grains. “What we have found, worker, is copper.”
The city was abuzz as the first coffers of green and red stones were brought to the palace in clay basins carried between two and two. Yong Cai spear-headed the group and entered the palace, kneeling down before her king.
“Great Majesty, this servant has brought to You a gift from the mountain.”
The demigod readjusted himself in his throne to face the servant, passively signaling the cadre of administrators to kowtow and disperse. ”A gift? Present it, cherished Yong.”
The clay tray was brought before the great ape, presenting for him a pile of green and brown chunks embedded in cruder stone. Yong Cai picked one up and offered it to the king. “There is no doubt, Your Majesty - this is copper, a metal. If worked, we can finally replace our stone and wood-tipped spears with sensible weaponry; our crude and lowly stone tools with those forged through flame.”
”Copper.” Anu repeated, taking the ore and lifting it too the light. ”How quickly can we implement it.”
“We have already begun research into harnessing its power. As we speak, the draft kilns are being used to test the melting point of this metal. Within a month, we should be able to work it.”
Nodding he handed the ore back to the councilmen. ”Good, I want the Ogun outfitted as soon as possible. Good work.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
The sixth year had come around, and Zhu Rongyuan officially declared the rations were to return to normal. The farmlands had been expanded to account for the enormous population growth three years ago, and now they could finally provide for the people the amount of food they were due. As a result, the population growth broke out of stagnation and production skyrocketed. Copper was brought across Beihe to Tal Eren in great loads. The rafts had improved considerably over the last three years, too; instead of needing pygmies to physically push them in the water, the sailors instead used long sticks to serve as oars, but had to push the rafts themselves once they reached deeper waters where the oars didn’t reach the bottom. As a result, however, the industrial districts’ productivity had bloomed. The Talemonese forces were outfitted with copper-tipped weaponry. The once-humble camp on the opposite bank of Beihe had become its own establishment, complete with farms, worker barracks and more. Additionally, new buildings were constructed which offered commodity goods in exchange for certain salary chips. For good work, Pygmies could now earn clothing chips, weapon chips, animal chips and jewelry chips - all of which could be traded in at the state storage houses in exchange for the respective goods. Anu and the Council had researched new methods of using animal skins and plant fibers to make clothing, and now the Pygmies wore woven clothing. Great scarfs and blankets with beautiful patterns donned everyone in Tal Eren. Anu had sent his councillors out in search of something to break the monotony of the plant fiber colour, and with the demigod’s help, they had found it: Crushing all manner of fruits, plants and insects and mixing them out with animal pee, the fabrics took on a myriad of colours which lasted for years. The weaving skills began to share more and more intricate patterns, many of which denoted great deeds, feats and honours granted to the individuals, in addition to patterns denoting profession and caste. Those who lived closer to the warm north and the jungles switched the blankets for loincloths and instead cut their accomplishments into their skin as beautiful scars. However, the Pygmies were not limited anymore to just beautiful clothing:
About two years ago, the copper diggers had discovered that the glistening rivers the rumours had spoken so fondly about were actually full of a golden substance - one the colour of their king’s eyes. Naturally, this material was gathered and presented before the great ape. Shortly thereafter, it was declared a sacred metal, to be held in highest regard. Some was shaped into jewelry, but most importantly, all of it was hoarded.
That was until a small scouting band came to the palace of Tal Eren one day and knelt before their king.
“Your Majesty,” said their leader, the one known as Okonkwo. He had been tasked with setting up a forward stronghold to the east and secure Giant’s Bath as a safe and sacred religious hub for the Talemonese empire.
The big king set aside his stack of reports but didn’t look up from them. ”Yes?” he grunted in response.
“These ones bring news His Majesty has awaited: Other creatures - similar to us - roam this continent. Far to the east, there exist giants like stars and monsters of flame.”
This caught the ape’s attention. ”Others? Has contact been established?”
Okonkwo nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty, although the monster of flame seem unwilling to maintain it. They are savage and wild - unfit for prosperous relations. The starborn, however… These ones understood not their language, but it was clear from the way they eyed this one’s medallion,” Okonkwo held forth the gold disc around his neck, which was the mark of an officer of the Ogun, “that they have an eye for His Majesty’s holy tears.”
”A greedy lot.” Anu surmised. ”Shore up a defense against these demons of fire, I am unsure of our forced capabilities against them just yet. Alert the Siwen to their presence as well, as well as these starborn and their interest in the tears.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!” Okonkwo boomed and him and his followers saluted the king. A day or so later, they had gathered Qiang Quan, thirty warriors, eight warmasons and two mansa. Together, they spent the next month or so travelling to the Giant’s Bath with a small pot of gold and enough weapons to defend a small perimetre. There, they sat up a small camp and sent out scouts every night to look for the monsters of flame. In that same manner, they sent emissaries to the starborn strangers carrying gold. The emissaries inspected what the Nebulites had to offer in return.
However, very little of it actually seemed appealing to the Pygmies: all they had were exotic animals and stone carvings - nothing that could match the beauty of Anu’s tears. The emissaries returned to the camp with disappointing news every day - whatever the strangers had to offer, it paled in comparison to what the Pygmies already had. That was until the strangers one day after many weeks came offering one of their own to the expedition’s commanding officer.
“No, I will not take her. As His Majesty’s advisor, this servant has no time for galbarian pleasures,” Qiang Quan said with the shake of his head. The strangers had been brought to the camp to display their gift, but the warleader seemed uninterested. “Although,” he suddenly said and looked at Okonkwo, “if this servant’s lieutenant would like this gift, he shall have it.”
Okonkwo blinked and stepped over to inspect the strangers’ gift closer. She was shorter than her peers, though still at least as tall as Okonkwo was. Her shape was lean, soft, frail - it was evident that she had never worked a day in her life. However, that weakness was made up for with the most captivating beauty the Pygmy had ever seen. He reached out to touch her face. The girl looked away a little before the two locked eyes. Okonkwo was already married to another, but this… This was too good an offer to pass up. This would be his claim to greatness.
“She satisfies this one. What do you reckon she is worth?”
The others shrugged. Qiang Quan tugged at his sandy chin. “A fistful of tears, perhaps?”
“A whole fist, huh?” Okonkwo mumbled and ran his eyes up and down the girl again. “... Then I hope she won’t run away in the night. Do it.”
One of the emissaries bowed, unlidded the pot of gold in her hands and scooped from it a fistful of gold chunks and nuggets. The strangers who accepted it looked almost enchanted by its sheen and colour. They said something in their odd tongue, bowed and left the camp alongside the emissaries and some guards. The girl remained, looking rather much like a diamond among coal chunks, there where she was surrounded by Pygmies. She was examined thoroughly, the extent of the tests strangely seeming not to bother her. In fact, it was as if she had been well prepared for this whole ordeal, and while she appeared to be a little shy, it was suppressed by evident training.
The Pygmies marveled, and more than a few began to dream of the possibilities of owning one for themselves. Perhaps, if these strangers could be persuaded to trade more for a few extra tears…
Following that first transaction, the trade between the two blossomed. Gold trickled down the Natal from the Giant’s Bath, and Nebulite concubines were shipped along Beihe back to Talemon. Soon, these were distributed to the members of the Oludari, as motivation and reward for their work within city and labour management. To contain this growing enthusiasm for trade, the humble outpost at the Giant’s Bath was expanded with permanent storage houses, defensive ditches, local clay kilns and pits, farms, and an expanded garrison. Along the river Beihe and the increasingly clearer path through the savannah and the jungles, simple waystations were set up to save the traders the need to bring a load of supplies every time. In the beginning, these were sparse and meagre - having to produce their own food which they then had to give to the traders; however, as time passed and new systems were put in place, the larger waystations were also supplied by independent caravans from the capital. These brought grain, fish and the all new animal products of the savannah and the jungle: With Anu’s aid, the pygmies had learned to domesticate the continent’s boars, jungle’s water buffalo and the savannah’s horse. All these produced milk, meat and hides for the Pygmies, and this produce was refined into products.
Soon, the trade post at the Giant’s Bath, named Biashara, grew from a couple of tents into a bustling marketplace where auctions for Nebulite concubines were held daily. Talemonese leather, gold and pottery were exchanged for the most beautiful and handsome individuals the southern power had to offer, and the Nebulites took it all ravenously. However, merely after two years of this exchange, the heads of Tal Eren concluded that the Pygmy empire shouldn’t give away their gold so cheaply. So, little by little, they choked the stream until no more gold passed through Biashara. This devastated the local businesses, as the other products have always been bought in addition to gold - never by themselves. Furthermore, back in their far off home, the Nebulites had learned to work clay into pottery by copying the Pygmies, so there was no longer any reason to buy it.
No matter how hard the Pygmies tried, no Nebulite slaver would sell them concubines for meagre leather goods. It was as if the tables were about to turn on who had the upper hand in this trade agreement.
That was until there appeared a new commodity in Biashara, one which could match the Nebulite concubines in value and could be mass produced back in Talemon: the Ikhobo.
At first, the Nebulites seemed skeptical. They, too, already had slaves, but the limited lingual exchange between the Pygmies and the starborn revealed that they were quite unsatisfied with the Dari overall - they were slow to breed, prone to revolt and expensive to feed. As it turned out, the Ikhobo provided a fantastic alternative, especially now that a large workforce was needed promptly to finish this mysterious building project they always went on and on about. As such, the concubines were bought in exchange for ikhobo slaves.
These slaves dominated the market, their stocky build, thoroughbred loyalty and augmented endurance proved to be more than attractive to the starborn. These models were outdated in Talemon and fazed out for a more efficient agricultural model known as the Ikhobo-Mde or the Growers. These slaves vastly outclassed the previous during testing, their greater height dwarfing that of a Pygmy and additional arms improved field work efficiency almost tenfold. These models were quickly mass-produced while the Ikhobo where sold or entered the construction sector.
Thankfully, none of that was shared with the Nebulites. Guile in face of the Other, after all - to know the Pygmies were selling them outdated slaves nearing the end half of their lifespans was sure to sour their moods. Biashara flourished and became the second largest town after the great Tal Eren.
Back home in the capitol, the population was further booming. The Pygmies, growth stunted for five years after their population had been quadrupled, would be held back no more. Children had been born by the tens to several families - the agricultural sector would have long since collapsed without the aid of the Ikhobo-Mde. The children that were old enough were taken from their families and sent to study under artisans, builders, bureaucrats or warriors. Some were sent to Biashara to become diplomats to the starborn; some were sent to the jungles to the south to herd water buffalo; some were sent to Qiangshan to work in the mines; some were sent out into the plains to chase the wildebeest.
At the dawn of the tenth year came Qiang Quan into Anu’s palace. He carried with him a long object, one wrapped in beautiful leathers as if meant as a gift. He lowered himself to his knees before the throne and spoke, “Great king - great news have been brought from Biashara!”
The big king lifted his bulk out of his seat and placed a calloused hand on the tanned skin, admiring the work before gingerly unwrapping the thing. ”Do tell.” he intoned with a hint of wonderment.
Within the leather laid a halberd the colour of the night sky, speckled with starry dots that seemed to move every so slightly on their own. It was as if the weapon was a reflection of the heavens in the evening. Perfectly balanced and sized for the massive ape, he it wielded deftly with a few test swings far out of the servant’s way. ”A beautiful weapon, truly. Where did you procure such craftsmanship?”
Zhu smiled and bowed his head. “It was given to Fu Lai’an in Biashara - a result of the greed-consumed starborn’s desperation.” The old servant looked back up. “This was given in exchange for a mere palmful of His Majesty’s tears. According to our translators, it was forged using the life essence of one of their own.”
”A life for a mere handful of gold? We could outfit an entire warband with a boar’s stomach.” he thought aloud.
Zhu nodded, then frowned. “This servant doubts it was procured legally, however; the seller reportedly appeared agitated, and was very clear to the diplomats that the transaction was supposed to be unofficial, and left out of the records.”
Anu’s raised a brow. ”Seems like an affirmable business venture. It must be of great value to require such secrecy, mind the cost just to forge it.”
“Indeed, Your Majesty. We estimate that this style of weaponforging vastly outperforms anything we currently made and can make within a reasonable future.” Zhu shook his head. “How they turn the life force of their own into these weapons is unknown, however.”
”For right now I see no reason for us too, as long as the arms flow I ask no questions.” he finished as he marveled at the detail. ”What to call it.” He murmured.
“Has His Majesty any suggestions?”
”I find my skill in naming things quiet lacking.” he said before pausing to stare into the weapon, almost looking for a name within its inky blackness. ”Hew, perhaps. Or might that not be lacking for a king’s blade? Blackbane maybe? Bah.”
“May this servant suggest the name ‘Skyscythe’?” Zhu asked politely.
Anu stamped the end on the ground causing a thump to reverberate throughout the throne room. ”Skyscythe! So it shall be!” he announced.
Zhu nodded proudly. “A glorious blade for a glorious king, Your Majesty. This servant will see to it that whatever more are offered by the greedy starborn, will be bought.” Zhu tugged on his beard. “One more thing, Your Majesty - the mansa school and the department of war have both been set up in the royal barracks. The Golden Horde will soon be ready for battle.”
The ape held out the halberd for two guards to struggle and hold aloft as he rose and padded down the dias. ”Good to hear. The sooner they begin functioning the sooner order can asserted over this wild rock.” he said as he passed Zhu. ”I want Tal Eren functioning as smoothly and as efficiently as possible, we are setting the example the world will follow.”
“All of Galbar will be at His Majesty’s feet in time. Now, next on the agenda--”
A commotion down the hall silenced Zhu and the two turned to face a Pygmy approaching in a great hurry, tailed by sprinting guards. “YOUR MAJESTY!” called the Pygmy before she was tripped to the floor by a guard and pinned down by a myriad of spears. “Your Majesty!” she called again, desperate inhales cutting apart her words.
”Peace, daughter, peace.” he soothed, placing a gentle finger on her shoulder. ”Speak with sense.”
“Your Majesty, this--!” She drew another breath. “This one comes from the western knucklelands! Our village, it was, it was crushed! Swarmed! Leveled! My family, my, my--” She broke into tears.
The massive demigod was silent, his lips pressed in a hardline as the vestiges of understanding dawned upon him. ”By what.” he said steadily, his voice like boulders rolling down the mountainside.
“The-they were… They were like monsters! Hundreds of them! We, we ran without looking back! Oh, great king, the horror!”
Anu ushered a set of guards to him. ”Shhh, my daughter. You are safe.” he cooed, taking her in his arms.
”Your Majesty!” the pygmies barked in unison, kowtowing low. The muffled cries of the horrified woman became audible as he released her from his grasp. ”You have done Talemon a great service today. Mourn the lost, then rally with your people. Talemon returns injury for injury, and she never forgets.”
YEAR 1: Opens up with the reciting of the Mėta of the religio-philosophical doctrine known as the World Pillars. It serves not only to guide the people of Talemon but also structure them, putting in place and caste system not based on class, but on skill and ability. Social reforms and government centralization takes place, although this is not without protest and quickly suppressed. After a time Anu is encouraged to boost population numbers and so he does, quadrupling the total. Heavy rationing is imposed as a result.
YEAR 2-5: During this heavy rationing known as the Hard Times, Anu creates the Temple of Chains, a complex dedicated to his endeavors to improve the Talemonese way of life. With the help of mansa who have created a flesh manipulation/incantation based style of mana, as well with Zhu’s guidance, prototypes in a slave race are created. Eventually the first of the ikhobo are created and eventually mass produced in pits under the House of Chains. Later on Yong Cai and Qiang Quan manage to pioneer raftcraft and discover copper in the Qiangshan, quickly presenting it to Anu who decrees that the warbands be outfitted.
YEAR 6: In the 6 year contact with the Nebulites is established. They are attracted to Talemonese gold, which was discovered in the past and is a sacred metal to the people. Okonkwo takes a nebulite as a concubine thus a trade begins in the lane. A trade post at the Giants Bath called Biashara starts to grow. Eventually Talemon shuts down the gold trade and begins trading in slaves. A new slave model was created in Talemon, perfect for the rice fields, so the older slave models are sold off for concubines.
YEAR 10: After a period of growth and advancement Anu is approached by his council with a gift, a smuggled Twilight Forged Halberd he calls Skyscythe. He wishes for his personal warband the ‘Golden Horde’ to be outfitted. More are to be smuggled with time. Suddenly and Pygmy rushes in warning of an attack from the east, and Anu readies Talemon for war against an unknown threat.
Anu start: 4MP/8FP 1MP: Quadruple the Pygmies from 200 to 800. 2FP: Set up the Temple of Chains monument: This building produces infertile pygmy slaves called ikhobo at the rate of fifty individuals per month. It is maintained and worked with mana, and skilled mansa can use mana to alter the slaves’ qualities, be that tall and mighty or slim and quick. At most, a slave may live up to ten years. They eat and sleep like normal. 1FP: Teach the Pygmies tailoring and weaving. 1FP: Teach the Pygmies leatherworking and tanning. 1FP: Teach the Pygmies to dye fabrics using colour from berries, fruits, insects and so on. 1FP: Teach the Pygmies animal domestication. 2FP: Establish the holy order The Golden Horde, a warband of elite warriors specialising in mana-infused weaponry and using mounts and animals in combat. More to come regarding them.
End: 3MP/0FP
The King’s Council, Siwen: Start 10 +1 minor role +1 major role +1 funtime with friends -6 teach Pygmies to metalcraft. -6 teach Pygmies weaponsmithing (specifically spears, dagger-axes and daggers. End 1.
Rog-mohog gave his hut a proud, fatherly pat. Even though he hadn’t built it, his authority had directly caused its inception and creation. He never planted the seed, but this tree stood because of him, and he wondered for a moment why his thoughts had drifted to trees. Trees… Leaves… Branches… Branches are made of wood… Wood is a building material… Ogres use wood to make stuff; ‘stuff’ is part of a category of words that describe unspecified items generalised into a single group… Within this group is furniture.
Rog-mohog peeked in through the tent flaps. It was empty, save for a boring mat of goat fur. He hummed. A proper chief needed a fancy chair - one like the Ancestor Spirits described and constantly, smugly teased him for not having. Even now, Rog-mohog could hear the distant snickers of his father Mohog mocking him for not owning a fancy chair.
This would end today.
“MASTA BUILDAS!” he thundered. Nothing happened. He groaned and boomed again, “MASTA BUILDAS!”
A familiar collection of shabby workers wielding rocks for tools slumped up to the chief’s tent. The leader of the workforce, the esteemed Slamjam, snorted out a booger the size of a pebble and grunted. “Wossit, boss?”
Rog-mohog pulled aside the tent flap and pointed inside. “Wot you see in there?”
The master builders crowded the entrance as they looked inside. Polite hums buzzed between them as they tried to think of the answer. “Boss’s sleepin’ furs?”
“Besides that.”
“Oh, uh… Noffin’.”
“Da’s roight, ye gits. Wot kinda chief got noffin’ inside his hut?”
“Well, plenty, actually. Up-slup da Big was known for ‘avin’--”
Rog-mohog sent the protestor flying down the hill. The other builders gulped. “Up-slup was a bloomin’ git! Ancestor spirit says that daily!”
There came nods of agreement. “So, wot you want us buildin’, boss?”
“Build me a fancy chair. A real fancy one - none’a that not-fancy-chair-business.”
The builders huddled together and whispered in the way one does when one wants to be very obvious about laying a plan. After thirty seconds, they broke apart again and Slamjam nodded at the chief. “Roight, boss. We got it. Gunna makes you a fancy chair.”
“Very good,” Rog-mohog praised and waved them off. As the builders slumped back down the hill and collected their companion along the way, the tribe shaman Wololo peeked out from behind the tent with the quickness of pitch.
“Boss, ‘ave you got a moment?”
Rog-mohog grunted. “Aye, wot you needin’, Wololo?”
“‘S about time to read the five spirits again.”
Rog-mohog groaned. “Wot, again? Didn’t we just do it?”
“Is a yearly fhing, boss. Been ‘xactly one year.”
“Issat so? Well, noffin’ to do but do it, then. Wot we needin’?”
“The usual - a boar bone plate, a dog toof, an owl feavva’, the foot o’va dead ogre ‘n some fresh moss.”
“It gotta be fresh? There isn’t any moss around ‘ere,” Rog-mohog complained.
“Gotta be fresh,” Wololo insisted. “Try checkin’ around Big Rock. Might be a cave or somethin’ with some shade ‘n moss.”
Rog-mohog frowned in a surly manner before eventually nodding. “Roight, got it. It’ll be ready by tomorrow.”
“Readin’ the spirits is important for knowin’ what comes, chief. This’ll be good for us.”
“Mhm.”
Somewhere far to the west…
"So, whoss we gonna do with this'un?" Crunch mumbled out loud as he dangled the gnome by the collar. "Y'fhink it's tasty?"
"Not as tasty as a slice'a bacon roight about now," Snaglag muttered as she picked her teeth with a stray metal pipe.
"Oi, don'chu like mutton better than pork? Ye call yeself a goatie?"
"Who you callin' a goatie?!" Snaglag spat back and shook her fist menacingly. Crunch frowned curiously back.
"You're not a goatie?"
"'Course I not! I'm a ogre!" She stomped off angrily.
Crunch's mouth flattened out until it had about the same appearance as his bushy unibrow and his eyes shifted back to the gnome in his hands. "We're surrounded by gits, isn't we, lil' gnome?"
"Surrounded by what now?" the gnome choked out despite his collar being accidentally clenched so tight that he could barely breathe. "I demand that you release me at once!"
Crunch gave him a hard, pensive stare. "You sure talk a bunch fo' such a lil' fhingy. Is you some kind'a dog, per'aps?"
The gnome's face was turning about as red as that funny cap on his head, and not just from embarrassment at the conundrum he found himself in--oxygen deprivation seemed to be an equally important factor. His tiny hand tried in vain to wrap around two of the ogre's fat, sausage-like fingers to pry them off.
Not understanding the very evident biological signals portrayed by the gnome, Crunch gave the futile effort a confused frown. "Oh, lil' gnome, didn' ye parunts ever teach ya that big boys make short work'a small boys, 'n that it don't work the ovva' way?" He suddenly got a thousand yard stare. "Mine did... Mine sure did... That bloomin' git Nathan in the neighbour hut nevah left me alone... Oi, why's you coughin'? Is you sick?"
"Can't...breath!"
"Wot ye mean 'can't brief'? You insultin' my skill at shortenin' stories for the sake of convenience and understandin'?"
The gnome went limp and further responses were not forthcoming.
"Huh. 'S wot I thought." Crunch dropped the gnome to the ground (where it promptly crumpled and stayed) and began poking about in a nearby junkpile. "You don't just say mean fhings like that 'n don't expect anyfhin' to come back at ya. If ye can't accept tha', then I'mma just smoosh ya."
The lack of response from the gnome caused the ogre to look over his shoulder again. "Wot, ye sleepin' now? Oi, don't you ignore me. Wot do you even know about me, huh?"
Nothing, saith the body. Crunch scoffed.
"Bet you was jus' a small humie after all." He plucked a sharp iron rod from the scrap pile. "Oi, Snaglag!"
A moment passed before the ogress peeked over from behind a wrecked balloon frame. "Yeah?"
"'Ave the gits grab as much'a this..." He slammed the iron rod against a nearby rock with enough strength to dent and bent it - however, to his surprise, it didn't break. "... This 'ard sticks as they can."
Snaglag uncovered her ears reluctantly. "Wot was that?"
"'Ave the gits grab sticks like this'un. Owl Spirit's telling ol' Crunchy that this'll be a nice fhingy to shank with."
Snaglag pursed her lips and furrowed her unibrow. "... Issat so..." She pulled a crooked iron pipe out of the wreckage and pressed it against her palm. It drew a few droplets of blood and she sucked in a pained breath. "Owie! Crunch, I cut myself!"
Crunch frowned back in concern. "You ever wonder if ogres was meant to survive past teenhood?"
"Wossat?"
"Noffin'. Let's get to it."
A moment later, the ogres had grabbed whatever iron splints, rods and pipes they could and hoarded them in sacks fashioned from ripped balloon hides. Gathering up curious stragglers, the ogres eventually began to make their way homewards. However, Crunch was stopped in his tracks by one of his fellow Boar Clan ogres. He drew a long sigh.
"Wot is it, Digganob?"
"Boss, is just, uh... Didn't that gnome say there was more of 'em about?"
Crunch eyed the gnome carcass in his hand. His intention was to bring it home and give it to his kids, but the thought of bringing back even more tickled his fancy quite seductively. "Aye, he did say that... Oi, Digganob, you got kids?"
"Sure do, boss."
"Uh-huh, uh-huh. Woss their names?"
"Gob, Rob, Nob 'n Elizabeff, 'course."
Crunch nodded. "Wot would you say to bringin' home one'a these for 'em to play with?" He shook the gnome corpse teasingly until it started making broken bone sounds. Digganob clapped excitedly.
"Oh, that'd make 'um really happy, boss! But, where'll I find 'um?"
Crunch sniffed and looked around. "Uh... Try stayin' in the ruins. Take about, uh, half of us 'n just see wot you can find. Just remember not to snack on 'em."
"They any tasty?"
Crunch shrugged. Digganob hummed pensively.
"I will--"
"Don't try it."
"--not eat any."
Crunch nodded again - approvingly, this time. "Good. Bring 'em home - alive, if ye can. Kids love it when their toys move on their own."
Digganob saluted clumsily. "Roight, boss," he said and strolled off, herding together about half of the war party. Crunch, Snaglag and the rest strolled on back towards the camp, happily carrying lots of iron, some balloon hides and one very brutalised gnome.
They walked back through a forest that seemed conspicuously lacking in birds, with the few ones around seeming skittish and shy about singing their songs. Indeed, Glough's war upon them was already starting to have some noticeable effects. The ogres tromped along in a generally westward direction, oblivious to the warning signs and telltale demonstrations of gnomish might. There were no more of the tiny creatures to be seen, even past the wreckage where they'd salvaged the iron rods, and they started to grow bored and disappointed. But then, just as some were beginning to contemplate turning around or having their thoughts stray to dinner, they heard a strange sound--it was some sort of high-pitched wailing, coming from a copse of trees up ahead. Digganob gave the trees a suspicious glare, his lazy eye dangling in his left socket.
"Oi, Brutus, check that out." A massive hunk of ogre lumbered its way past Digganob, an oak sapling in his hand. His torso caused windshear as it swung from side to side with every earth-shaking step. He squinted, and his miniscule eyes tried their best to see past a small forest of eyebrows onto whatever was hiding in the trees.
There was a small splotch of red visible through the leaves, its stark contrast letting it stand out even to the beady eyes of the ogre as he stomped forward.
"WHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?!" Treecog shrieked out to the bristly pine in front of him, the only thing that would listen. He was so consumed by grief at his having been exiled a few hours ago that he didn't even notice Brutus until the ogre came close enough for him to smell (which was admittedly still a decent ways away, such was his reek!) at which point he turned about and started. With a yelp, the gnome instinctively ducked around to the other side of the tree to hide.
Brutus' nose was in contrast much more accustomed to the indescribable stench of its owner - learning through abuse was a tried and tested ogre strategy, after all. As such, it effortlessly picked up that something was not quite right - or rather, it was right in the sense that it picked up the scent of the exact creature they were after. The faint cologne of mustache wax was unmistakable, mostly because it was utterly foreign to him, like any other cosmetic or hygienic ointment. With limbs like logs, he reached around the poor pine and mumbled, "Oi, I smell you, y'li'uhl..."
As the great, thundering beast approached, a thousand things went through Treecog's genius mind. There was the Director's words, the fate he'd been sentenced, "Enjoy living off the land and among all the nasty wildlife and local animals, you sub-gnomish cretin!" Indeed, a small part of his mind considered the idea of trying not to resort to flight or flight when confronted by these beasts, but to attempt to set them at ease and live among them, making of his life the new goal of domesticating, training, and ultimately dominating the giants through sheer wits and gnomish ingenuity. These creatures were huge, so it was obvious that they were score quite lowly on the Zekel-Voight-Greasegear; they were probably somewhere between a small dog and a crafty kobold in terms of intelligence...
But they were huge! And smelly! And scary! Those smaller, woolly creatures that had marched into the Crash Site seemed much likelier candidates for cohabitation, and honestly, he'd already come to the half-baked idea of looping around the Crash Site so as to find those so-called 'dwarves' on their way back to wherever they came from...assuming that Glough and the animal trainers even allowed those dwarves to leave on their own.
In the end, shot nerves won out over the appeal of surrender, or of a challenge, or whatever madness whispered for him to do anything save run or hide. The inventor still had a sharp wit about him! He reached up, feeling at the stupid red hat on his head. He was surprised that they hadn't confiscated that upon revoking his party membership, but then again, that wasn't really a symbol of authority or belonging. It was just extremely fashionable. But what had fashion ever done for him? And what had the Red Cap Party done either, for that matter? The hat meant nothing! He tore it off his head and placed it atop a gnarled root sticking out of the ground a few feet away, then scrambled into a nearby pile of pine needles. By the time that Brutus' hands came groping around the other side of the tree, Treecog was already hidden. At least, he hoped so.
Eventually, Brutus' bratwurst fingers felt something soft. With a dumb smile, the fingers clasped around the item - only to find disappointedly that there was no sensation of breaking bones or dying squeals. He pulled the cloth shrapnel to his beaten nose and took a deep wiff, sucking in a number of red scraps. His nose wrinkled as if he was about to sneeze, but he was left grimacing. With a hum that sent tremors through the ground, he turned. This piece of filt had indeed expelled the scent he had picked up before, and no one would willingly tear up such a fancy hat just to run away - of course not. It was a really fancy hat - like, really fancy. He eyed the remains in his hand with pursed, pensive lips. Half of it was salvageable, so he put it on the small vulcano of black hair erupting from his shrunken skull. He didn't have a lake to mirror himself in, but he was certain he looked swell. He spun on his heel, leaving a small crater, and lumbered back to the group.
As he heard the ogre go stomping back the other way, Treecog let out a barely audible sigh of relief. He'd been holding his breath that whole time! But then cold panic crept into his veins--would the beast have heard him?! Hopefully the cracking twigs and pine needles beneath its feet, combined with its laborious breathing, overpowered the sound of his exhalation. The fading sounds of minor earthquakes hinted that the ogre was either too deaf or too simple to have made the connection between a distant gasp and the fact that someone may have been hiding.
Brutus returned to the other ogres, a grin still about his face on account of the hat. Digganob eyed him curiously. "Oi, Brutus, did you find anyfhin'?"
Brutus put two colossal hands over his head. "... No." Digganob's eyes hardened.
"So there really was noffin', huh?"
"No."
"Noffin' at all."
"Nuh-uh."
"No birds?"
"Nah."
"No pigs?"
"Nope."
"No gnomes."
"Noffin'."
Digganob muttered to himself. Another voice came up behind him. "Oi, wossat you coverin' on your head, Brutus?!"
"Is noffin," Brutus mumbled back.
"You hidin' somefhin'?"
"No."
"Boss, he's hidin' somefhin'," said the ogre and stomped over to remove Brutus' hands from his head. Before anyone could stop him, Brutus had already removed one hand, fastened it around the assailant's neck and tossed him to the ground. Digganob frowned.
Treecog, meanwhile, had been listening in silence. So the monsters were going to stay for the entire night, which meant that he too would have to stay for the entire night beneath a pile of itchy pine needles, lest he risk getting caught if he tried to break a run for it. The realization was degrading and humiliating, but not so much as what would happen if they found him and tried to use him as some sort of chew toy...
D) Rog-mohog has the master builders make him a fancy chair because he is boss. F) Half of the exploring ogres are bringing back iron pipes and leather from the balloon crash site. X) The ogres are starting to prepare for the yearly Spirit Reading event... X) The other half of the exploring ogres keeps exploring...
Eamhair kept her head low in the shrubberies. She had been jogging for hours now, chasing the beast. She heard its panting a shallow distance away, the rustling in the grass as it laid down to rest. She did her best to steady her own breathing - she was far from equally fast, but her endurance outshone this beast hundredfold. Still, she couldn’t be too careful - the beast no doubt had some energy left, and her aching belly told her that she couldn’t very well afford to spend her own reserves so frivolously. With a swift, silent hand, she took a fist-sized rock in her hand and cupped it into her sling. One well-placed hit should do it - a surprising daze to knock it out cold while she cuts into its heart with her stone knife. She assumed her stance and began winding up the sling.
“YAAAAAARGH!” came a scream from the opposite side of the beast and out the bushes burst her sister Caitir with an enormous wooden trunk in her hand. The beast squealed and scrambled to its feet. Eamhair drew a surprised breath and, thinking quickly, sent the rock flying. However, due to her sister’s distraction, the stone clapped against the beast’s thigh and accomplished little more than a pained roar before it huddled off. Caitir chased it away from the clearing before throwing the stick to the ground in frustration.
“Oh, wolf doo! It got away--ow!” Caitir looked over her shoulder to frown at the glare of Eamhair, who smacked her over the head again.
“You dumb, useless idiot! I was -just- about to knock it out! Why did you just run at it, huh? Where’s your sling?!”
Caitir blocked a third incoming blow. “I lost it, okay?! You were running so fast and I fell and, and then I dropped it, and I called out, but you just kept running, and--”
“Okay, shut up!” Eamhair pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ugh… Now what… Did you see where it went?”
“How could I have seen where it went with you nagging me all like--”
“Caitir, focus! Did it leave any tracks?” The two stared down at the ground. A trail of kicked-up dirt and half-recognisable tracks led into some nearby bushes - the very same bushes were ripped and broken.
“Looks like it went that way,” Caitir proposed and hefted the stock back onto her shoulder. Eamhair hung her sling from her loincloth and made a wry expression.
“You don’t say…” She groaned. “Come on, let’s go.” She set off into a quick gait. Behind her, she heard the distant calls of her sister shouting ‘h-hey! Wait up!” Eamhair rolled her eyes and ignored them. Along her path the tracks zig-zagged between trees, over roots and under branches. Eamhair plucked a tuft of grey hair from a thorny bush. She gave it a sniff and pursued the tracks moving forward from the bush. The tracks were becoming deeper and sluggish, feet often crossing over one another and the occasional rut where the beast must’ve fallen. Soon, she heard that familiar panting. She crept down behind the bushes and stole a glance above them. By the roots of an old oak, she saw the beast lie gasping for air. She wouldn’t even have to knock it out like this. Immediately, she grabbed her knife, pounced out of the bush and drove it into its heart.
The beast had no chance to react. Hands caked in blood, Eamhair triumphantly pulled the stone blade out and reveled as the beast drew its final breaths. Then, there was silence. Eamhair snickered to herself and put her lips to the wound. She was incredibly thirsty after all this running, and blood was both nutritious and drinkable. The rich flavour filled her mouth and she made sure to spill as little as possible - it was a sin to waste the animal’s bounty, after all.
As she began to skin and butcher the beast, the silence grew terribly heavy. She allowed herself a number of peeks around the area, her keen eyes spotting nothing. Another moment passed before she called out: “Caitir?”
There was no response. Eamhair groaned to herself, sliced off a small chunk of the beast’s dripping heart and put it in her mouth. She was slow, sure, but not -this- slow. She had probably lost her. She rose to her feet, packed the meat she had managed to cut loose so far into the beast’s hide. She got to her feet and turned to the carcass with a suspicious scowl. “You’re going nowhere, you hear?” she mumbled to herself before she began to retrace her steps backwards.
“Caitir? Caaaaaiiitir?” Eamhair called. By Kalmar, how far had she ran? She couldn’t very well have outrun her sister -this- badly. At least, not unless her sister had been halted in her steps. Cold sweat cooled her forehead and she picked up her pace.
“Caitir! Caitir!” she called with command and unease and began sprinting through the woods. Branches whipped against her skin and thorns bit at her calves. The adrenaline ignored all of it, however - if her sister was in danger, she couldn’t afford to feel pain.
There came a weak whimper from a clearing behind a tree, followed by desperate gasps. Eamhair nearly fell forward as she turned mid-sprint. In an instant, she gazed upon her sister’s body flat on the forest soil, patches of her usual healthy, bronze skin blackening and paling like mouldy meat. Her eyes looked like old nan’s, white as milk and empty of sensation. Her breathing was irregular at best and she appeared unable to move, yet involuntarily twisted and turned as if her skin was filled with insects.
“Caitir, what’s wrong?!” Eamhair called out and laid a hand on her sister’s shoulder. In an instant, Caitir’s empty eyes locked with hers and she unleashed a deafening scream before first reaching out to choke her, then retracting her hands, then choking herself, then tossing her arms around. Eamhair skipped back, desperation and instinct overtaking reason.
“Caitir! Stop! I’ll-- I’ll bring you to old nan, just--”
“IT HUUUUURTS!” Caitir wailed before rolling over and drumming her forehead against a stone on the ground. She managed to cut herself a wound before Eamhair restrained her. Caitir tried wildly to pull herself lose, then immediately stopped and attempted to embrace her sister before then suddenly battling for her freedom like a caged beast. Eamhair, seeing no other option, wound up a hook and knocked her sister out cold. Luckily, her delusions and the agony of her affliction had already worn her out - Eamhair had only needed to punch once.
Now, however, Eamhair was horrified. What manner of plant or venom had done this to her?! That was when she noticed the trees around her, nearly every single one, suddenly releasing their leaves like they always did around autumn. The issue was, though, that autumn was far, far off. The bark paled into fragile ash and the roots began to smell of rot. Eamhair remained no longer. She left behind the sack of meat, scooped her sister into her arms and ran for home. Around her, the forest blackened and whitened into a monochrome nightmare, a terror which only spurred her to sprint faster. After a while, her lungs and heart could barely keep up with her panic and she was forced to slow down. Fewer and fewer of the trees around her now had suffered similar fates, but the dead woods behind her were already enough. Her village was not far now. Her heart calming down a little, she permitted herself to look down at her sister again. The corruption had spread, her every extremity now black as soot and each limb pocked with black and white spots.
“H-hey, Caitir,” Eamhair whimpered. There came no response. Eamhair prayed she was still just unconscious and spurred on. “Please hold on,” she whispered.
In a half an hour, she had reached their village, but what met her there was everything beyond what she had expected. Laid between the tents were a number of sick elves like her sister, but these were not from her own tribe. They were Wolfhearts, from further north - a village that they had no amiable relations to, and in truth, had been in a rivalry with. Now, though, the flutes played a different tune, and friend had become foe as this mysterious plague had overtaken them. Eamhair hurried over to their grandmother’s tent and pushed aside the curtain.
“Old nan! Caitir is very sick!”
The old Mir, the one among them who had been created old by the gods, looked up from the one she already was treating, exhaustion nearly pouring out of her eyes like tears. Eamhair pushed herself past everyone else, Caitir limp in her arms. Her sight locked onto the one Old nan was treating: It was the Wolfheart chieftain, a hunter by the name of Labhruinn. He was restrained with vines and sinew, squirming around as best he could while screaming through the sling wrapped over his mouth like a gag. Old nan had wrapped his black spots in sootheleaves, but he seemed rabid. Around him a crowd stood staring, a member of which, Eamhair had become.
“Well, don’t just stand there! Let me see her!” Old nan commanded and Eamhair snapped back into reality. It was clear from the way the old Mir inspected the wounds that she was at a loss for what to do. She would likely attempt the same procedure - sootheleaves really cured most ailments that affected the Everblooms; why could it not cure this one, too? However, with Caitir still unconscious, they had no way of verifying whether she was cured. As a precaution, Eamhair reluctantly bound her sister’s hands and feet; if she still was as rabid as before, she could not be allowed to walk free in the village.
All of a sudden, though, there came panicked cries and screams from the outside. The curtain was pulled aside in a haste and Eamhair saw it was Aodhàn, their greatest hunter.
“Elder Seonag! Elder Seonag! The sky is raining fire!”
“What?” came an empty question from old nan and everyone inside the tent ran out to see. Not much later did their screams add to the cacophony. Eamhair exchanged frightened looks with old nan before sprinting out to see. Indeed, it had been as Aodhàn had described it: Up the sky, which at this time of day would begin to near twillight, there was no Heliopolis, for it was obstructed by a much closer, much more terrifying ball of flame. Eamhair felt her blood freeze. She had lived a short life - much too short, and already it was ending? A million thoughts banged at her skull from the inside, all battling over the place atop the priority list. Should she go in and tell Caitir how much she loves her? Should she find that sweet boy she barely even knew the name of and tell him what she felt for him? Should she place some flowers by the river into which her parents’ ashes had been scattered?
“Eamhair!” Aodhàn shouted and she turned around to face him. The hunter grabbed her by the hand and pulled her along. “What are you doing?! Run!”
Eamhair gasped. “B-but what about Caitir?! And old nan?!”
“It’s too late for them, they’ll only slow us down! Come on!” The hunter let her go and ran for the woods, but Eamhair still remained in the camp, her eyes shifting between the trees and old nan’s tent. She looked back up at the boulder of flame. No way was she outrunning that - not even her. Aodhàn had courage - courage and hope - but the orb was nearly the size of their village already, its shade obscuring the sky.
Suddenly, another shape appeared below it, one smaller in comparison, but still enormous to the elves. It sped down to the village with incredible speed and sat itself neatly upon the soil in the village centre. From the object’s top came a booming voice: “Quickly! Come aboard if you want to live!” Then, along the sides of the object formed weird toothed slopes. At first, nobody dared approach, many still running for the woods. The voice boomed again: “Climb the stairs and come inside, or else you -will- perish!”
Twice was all Eamhair needed to hear it and she immediately ran into the tent, gathered those who were sane, as well as her unconscious sister, and began shepherding them up the weird, liquid slopes. Others turned to face the thing, as well, running towards it as they had ran for the woods. Once they reached the top of the slope, strangers that looked much like them began leading them towards a very odd, yet incredibly glistening mountain. The mountain revealed a slowly-opening cave at its bottom, into which the elves were rushed. When the last of them had come in, the cave was sealed with wooden tent flaps larger than any Eamhair had ever seen. The strangers spoke to some of the elves in a musical tone, offering them woven furs to keep warm. Then came a shock, one that tossed every Mir and stranger off their feet. The room immediately grew incredibly hot, then cooled as time went on. Then there was silence. The strangers offered Eamhair and her kin some hot water with a very odd aftertaste, and Eamhair took the opportunity to ask the one who offered it to her a question:
“Please, would you tell us where we are?”
The stranger formed what Eamhair supposed was a smile and curtesied without really responding. Eamhair reasoned she hadn’t been understood and dipped her lips back into the hot water with a slurp.
“You are aboard Jiangzhou - my home,” came a deep, oily voice and every Mir turned to face its source. It had long ears like them, and a face that could’ve belonged to a particularly fearsome and animalistic individual, but the similarities ended there: Its skin ended at the borders of its torso, being overtaken by crimson scales; above its ears, it grew great, dull-tipped horns; it stood about two feet taller than them, and its posture portrayed a profound sense of might and composure.
This creature was evidently one of the Gods.
“Who are you?” asked Eamhair curiously. The others listened intently. The creature turned to face her and formed a small smile.
“I am Shengshi, dear one - lord of the rivers; king of the harvests--” A number of the Vallamir placed their fists on their chest and bowed their heads in awed salute, “-- and I have come to aid Kalgrun against the end of the world.”
“Is the world ending?!” came a number of panicked screams. The snake smirked.
“Not if we can help it. Worry not - you are safe now.”
“B-but… The fire… In the sky?” Eamhair asked in confusion. The snake’s smile waned.
“Yes. It has struck the earth. My ship is impervious to its damage, but… Your village.” He shook his head. The elves drew gasping breaths and tears began to roll. Shengshi sighed and slithered over to place a hand on Eamhair’s shoulder. “... It is always a tragic loss - especially when it is caused by something so destructive. However, worry not, for I will find you a new home. One where all…” He scanned the crowd. “... Two hundred of you can live in peace in much the same way as you did here.”
Old nan, who had been brought to her knees during the quake, stood up and asked, “Will this home be far from our ancestral lands? We have hunted these woods for ten years, and we know no other way of life.”
The snake sighed. “Yes. It will be far from your old home; however, that is because your old home is…” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “... Fire has enormous potential for destruction. I am afraid what remains of your lands is…”
“May we see it?!” Eamhair pleaded. The snake’s reptilian gaze shifted to her.
“It will be a painful sight, dear one,” the snake cautioned.
“M-may we see it still?!”
The snake lowered his gaze and eventually nodded. “If you are not faint of heart, then my gates shall open for you to witness the result of Heaven’s wrath. Beware, though - the sight of death is one few can stomach.” Behind him, the gates of the palace slowly opened. “We will seek out more than may need our aid. Once Kalgrun is safe, you will be brought to your new home.”
“W-where will that be?” Old nan asked.
“The Dragon’s Foot, dear one - west of here,” said the snake and slithered off. Eamhair stood staring out the open gates. She slowly exited the palace and crossed over to the edge of the deck, her eyes boiling with tears.
Everywhere around them, as far as her eyes could see, there was ash and flame. Beside the vessel laid the cracked, sooted remains of a large rock, still radiating heat. Every tree she had known and climbed throughout her life here was either gone or reduced to charcoal. A little further beyond, the small walls of a crater crawled out of the ground to surround the great stone. As she peered even closer, Eamhair saw traces of blood, bone and charred skin among the dunes of ash. Slowly, though, the vessel she was on began to float upwards. She lost her balance a moment, and her legs were made weaker as she noticed the full scale of the damage. She couldn’t even begin to formulate thoughts anymore - her mind was wiped empty like the wasteland below. She sat down against the railing, her head resting on her knees, and wondered what she or her people had ever done to deserve this apocalypse.
Eamhair’s hunting in the woods and she gets the opportunity to land a killing blow on a beast. The KB is interrupted when Eamhair’s sister Caitir ruins everything by scaring the beast away and Eamhair gives chase. She catches up, kills it and drinks it blood and eats its meat, but Caitir’s taking a long ass time. Eamhair searches for her and finds that she’s been mar-moted (or very sick in Eammy’s eyes). She carries her back to the village to find that lotsa people have been mar-moted, including a previously rival tribe that’s come to seek help. As Eamhair tries to get their grandma to help Caitir, a meteor heads of the village. They panic, but snake comes in and takes all the Mirs onto his ship, where they are impervious to damage. Snake says hi and tells the Valla that their village has been destroyed and that he’ll take them to DF where it’s soooooo much safer. Some of the Mirs go outside to see the destruction of the meteor and Eamhair contemplate why the gods are so mean.
Five days had passed, and with each day Song found herself closer and closer to Urangtai. Each visit found him more comfortable with her, and her finding a groove in talking with him. Meiyun hadn’t come by since Song had told her off, but had supposedly tried to talk to Urangtai one final time just yesterday, to which Urangtai simply shrugged her off -- finding her unpleasant. Sometimes Song’s beloved would sit in silence, as if remorseful over something or another, but whenever Song talked, he seemed attentive.
It was a beautiful evening over the jungle, the heliopolis colouring the sky a gentle shade of purple. In the palace gardens sat Song with a flower in her hand, awaiting her beloved. Absent-mindedly, she stripped the flower of its petals, whispering, “he loves me,” for every one she plucked. Occasionally, she would add a “very much” at the end. The last five days had been magnificent, and it was all thanks to that fantastic person - no, her master! She would be faithful for something like this! A favour? Pfft! Urangtai was hers now - what could measure up to that?
Scraping footsteps pulled her from her reverie, and as she looked up she noticed a rather dirty looking Urangtai walking across the garden path -- and leaving a dusting of gravel as he walked. In his hands he held a small sack the size of a fist, a proud smile on his face.
“Song,” He called out, almost coughing from the dust that shook from his hair.
“Urang!” Song sang happily and spun to face him. “You came!”
“Yes!” Urangtai nodded, quickly tossing the sack to next to the sitting woman, “But look what me and Yesugei found on the exploratory mission.”
Song eyed the sack. “What’d you find?”
“Open and see,” Urangtai sat next to her, an eager look on his face -- one Song hadn’t seen in quite a many days.
Song gave him a playful smile and peeked inside the bag. Inside was reddish soil that gently sparkled when moved around, with some green and orangish clumps filtering through the soil coagulates.
“Copper,” Urangtai explained, “We dug up barrels full, just like the images our God showed us. We can finally start smelting.”
Song’s facial expression faltered a little, but she cocked her head to the side and smiled supportively at Urangtai. “That’s great, love!”
“Uh-huh!” Urangtai’s eyes glistened over the metal, a hand shaking off the dirt in his hair, “I can’t wait to work the smithies.”
“What will you make?” Song asked politely.
“Better shovels for one,” Urangtai folded the sack back closed, “But, uh, I actually have to go.” He cocked a thumb behind him, “I need to wash up and get this metal back to Yesugei, but can I see you for dinner?”
Song deflated a little and sighed. “Always work with you. Alright, but be home on time today, alright?”
Urangtai gave her a quick smile and nod before dashing off. The dirty man turned the corner and out of sight. A second thumped by and suddenly he was running back, the sack suddenly gone. He smiled through a running pant and came to a halt, slapping his hands to his knees, “On second thought.” He plopped next to Song, “I guess I could stay a while longer.”
Song blinked, but didn’t let her surprise drown out the beam of joy exploding from her smile. “Oh, Urang! You’re so caring for little me! Would you sing for me?”
“I only know the little ditty called ‘glory be to Yullian,’” Urangtai winked, his eyes suddenly sparkling with tiny specks of blue.
Song clapped her hands twice before the words clicked and she gave Urangtai a slack-jawed look. “What did you just say?”
Urangtai’s face suddenly shifted to that of Huang and a wide laughing smile broke over Yullian’s face, “I said, glory be to Yullian, no?”
Song’s face lost what little colour it had and she packed it between her knees where she sat. “Whyyyyyyyyy?!”
“Oh come now,” Yullian leaned back on two hands and admired the azure sky, “You know what today is, don’t you?”
Song droned a groan. “Whaaat?”
“It is the seventh day since our pact was made,” Yullian grinned, completely ignoring Song’s displeasure, “As I said, in seven days Urangtai would be all yours and now he is, pretty fantastic, isn’t it?”
Song looked up, a half-smile on her face. “Yeah… Yeah, he is! He really is!” Completely forgetting how upset she was at their prank, she turned to face Yullian with an inclined head. “I am forever in your debt, Your Holiness!”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Yullian smiled wide. “Oh, did you notice those flowers he found you yesterday? I’d say that was awfully sweet of him...”
“Yeah, I did. They were so beautiful. I wanted to give him something back for those, but then he went back to work, and then it was dinner time, and…” She sighed. “Oh well, having a busy man is a good sign, they say.”
“They do say that,” Yullian nodded idly, “Well, this is it, then. The end of our agreement -- I do hope you enjoy your forty children and life of love and splendor. It was a pleasure.” The demigod slowly rose to his knees and shook off some dirt from his palms.
“Forty children… With him,” Song mumbled dreamily before looking back at Yullian. “Wait, you’re leaving?”
“Oh, I’ll be around, don’t you worry about that,” Yullian stretched to his feet. “Just don’t forget that favor we discussed, I expect results, okay?” He winked.
Song blinked. “Certainly, but… I don’t think you ever mentioned what I was supposed to do.”
“I didn’t?” Yullian stretched an arm over their head quizzically, “Oh, well it’s really simple: every last one of your descendents, including yourself must be completely devoted to my worship.” He straightened out, “Wouldn’t hurt to snag some outsiders into the little cult, let’s call it, but just ensure all your kids and their kids and so one do the deed and we are square.” Yullian cleared his throat, “I’ll know if anyone stops, but if you really want to ensure I don’t overlook a more subtle faithful, always toss the last of any baked good out the window for myself and I’ll get the hint. All good?”
Song gasped. “E-everyone? But, uh…” She scratched her temple uncertainly. “A-are we just going to pretend whenever we pray to Shengshi and K’nell--”
“Hup!” Yullian held up a hand, “I don’t care if you want to pray to anyone else, I really don’t, so long as you and your descendents don’t forget to worship the god who made this pact with you.”
“Oh, so… ‘Completely’ devoted,” she said and gave a wink. “Well, I don’t see any issues with that, then!”
“Great!” Yullian clapped his hands together, “If anyone ever falters, I’ll bleed my wrath upon them and all that. Now! You have one last little blessing, free of charge.” He suddenly poked Song on the tip of her nose, inciting a loud sneeze.
Song rubbed her nose. “Wuh-what did you, uh-ugh--... Ugh, I hate it when I-- never mind, what did you --ACHOO!-- there is came, what did you do?”
“I just gave you your first task as a completely devoted Yullian worshipper, isn’t that fun?” Yullian giddily announced, “Go sneeze on every last one of the denizens of this city, no questions asked.” Yullian winked.
“Wuh-... But won’t that--ugh… ACHOO!” She sniffed and rubbed her nose again. “Won’t that make them sick?”
“I really don’t have time to get into how infections work, but don’t worry -- nothing like tha- hey wait a second, I said no questions. Oh ho! You got me there,” Yullian wagged a finger, “But really, you don’t even have to finish it today (but the sneezes won’t stop until you do). Oo!” Yullian playfully punched the air, “I’m so excited for this new chapter, aren’t you?”
A triplet sneeze came out and Song began to sob.
“Tears of joy,” Yullian sang.
The years began to drift by after that, with Song seeing herself to quadruplets next spring. Oddly enough, she wasn’t the only one -- with those who had caught her sneeze finding themselves with twins and triplets. Life went on in the traveling city, with new families emerging like a rash over the turtle’s back. Song herself found her life exactly as she wanted and in her thanks decided to quickly tutor her children in the ways of Yullian and how to show their worship of the god.
Upon the eighth year, Song found herself with ten sets of quadruplets -- just as she wanted. For four happy months after the birth of her final four, she lived in extreme happiness, having the perfect life she had once prayed for, but when it seemed as if her own personal paradise was perfect, disaster struck.
She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but her husband slowly became more and more distant until one day as if he had suddenly discovered the eight long years of trickery and deceit, he had disappeared altogether. Her worry was turned to ripping grief when a month later Yesugei had reported to General Ming that he had found Urangtai’s body on the grounds below the turtle. He was mangled and not much more than a splatter, having leapt from the turtle in despair -- Yesugei guessed.
Being the only friend Urangtai had left at the time of his death, Yesugei was questioned endlessly upon the matter and suspicion was eventually shifted from him and his tight lipped ways to Song herself -- but her extreme grief and sadness was enough to persuade Ming of her innocence. In the end it was confirmed by lack of evidence otherwise that Urangtai had ended his own life in a moment of sudden insanity.
Unbeknownst to the other Dreamers, after that day Song had attempted to kill herself on multiple occasions, but was stopped each time by Yullian -- eager to see his investment pan out. Song was completely broken, but her teachings of Yullian to her children and to some wayward housewives and husbands didn’t stop after the death of Urangtai -- be it out of blind faith for a better life, or uncomfortable fear. In the end, by ten years the secret cult of Yullian was thriving among the youth, just as copper and metals was thriving among the busy.
The god himself often found himself thinking by the city square that sat flat before the palace gates. It wasn’t so much a spot for the view, as much as a spot to pick out new faces and old from the ever bustling crowd of the growing city. On one particular K’nell’sday, as he sat (as Huang) on a stone platform ringed with copper benches, he found himself staring at the sky above.
When bored with the timid and frail lives of mortality, Yullian often found himself watching the silly little cloudlings bumble about the sky. In truth he didn’t see much difference between them and the other living creatures of Galbar, dreamers included, but what difference there was (namely the ability to worship) was a wide enough gap to keep his more mischievous interests from the small popping creatures.
Also in truth, Yullian was not simply bored, he was finished. Rotating in his mind was a long list of things he had done over the ten years, namely securing a base of worship -- but not much else. Ten years was a short time to a god, but still a long enough time to have gotten more done. Yullian found themselves only a single step closer to becoming the full fledged deity he wanted to be, now having worshippers, but that was a single step on a grand staircase. Never again, Yullian would think to himself (rather frivolously) would he choose to waste ten years on such a simple task.
There was a sudden pop unlike one Yullian had heard before and right before his eyes, a once dazzling cloudling turned dark and fizzled out of the sky. The god squinted, and a few more cloudlings suddenly fizzled out as well, turning into nothing but a burst of dew. It took one more burst before Yullian had devoted enough attention to the popping massacre to notice the culprit -- tiny motes.
The cloudlings were eagerly eating the small motes, and then dying as a result. Yullian frowned and upon noticing that their soul seemed to perish with the motes, he realized this was the last thing he needed. Should his ten year long plan be undone by deadly flying dust, he should paint himself a fool. No, this wouldn’t do, the godling figured -- especially should it disrupt his worship.
Standing up, the god hopped off the platform. He wagged a finger at the stone and it started to sculpt itself. Passing by dreamers froze in their steps, staring with wild eyes at the yawning Yullian, a sparkle of power twisting from his finger and into the molding stone. As the stone began to rise and rise, finally some brave dreamer managed to bark out.
“What are you doing!?” followed by a: “Stop it!”
Yullian gave the man a cursory glance before going back to sculpting. With one final pang a large statue of Huang rose from the platform, one foot planted on the chest of a fallen figure uncannily similar to the dreamer who called out. The statue had their hands on their hips and a jovial laugh frozen in stone. Yullian dusted his hands and mimicked the stance before turning on a heel.
“Go on,” he ushered a hand at the dreamers, “Go get someone important. Hut hut!”
It took a moment or so before the royal court came out of the palace, spear-headed by the ageing, greying Wenbo and the wrinkled Ai. The lord and lady gasped at the statue and waved their hands around.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Wenbo shouted as strongly as he could. Ming and her troops were not far behind.
“I just thought it would be privy for you to know who just saved your unaware little lives,” Yullian put a hand over their heart, “Tis I, Yullian -- A god.” The smug smile on Yullian’s face grew as he seemed to pause in expectation.
The surrounding Dreamers exchanged looks. "Why I--" Wenbo tried his best to solve the conflict between respect and outrage flaring up in his head. "Yullian. So… Then my granddaughter's 'imaginary friend' was no such thing after all. What have you done for us?" Approaching them was the very broken Song escorted by her uncles Tian and De.
“I have given you quite the chance to notice how great I truly am,” Yullian boasted, “By erecting this statue,” He gave his image a firm slap, “I have put your precious city in an aura of protection, if you will. Your mortal eyes may have not seen it, but my divine wisdom foresaw a great and terrible danger.” Yullian mulled around dramatically, “Little specks of dust withering souls themselves threatened to descend upon your people. But as long as my statue stands, I don’t think any such negative attributes shall be added to any souls in this city.” The Godling seemed amused for a moment, “On top of that, this aura will also let you dive under the waves without worrying about drowning on your turtle friend.”
Wenbo and Ai blinked. "That's… That's most generous of Your Holiness," Ai started, "but is this out of goodwill? Our people have had dealings with those who want something in return. Does that category also include You?"
“Nope,” Yullian put his hands on his hips, and grinned, “Pretty great, huh?”
Song had been brought to the front, where she knelt soberly next to her grandparents. Wenbo's eyes shifted between her and the demigod. Eventually, he said, "So, granddaughter of mine, it would seem that this mysterious spirit you and your children have talked so much about exists after all." On the old man's head, Bean Bun stared judgmental daggers down at the young lady, popping suspiciously. Song looked away wordlessly and Wenbo pleadingly turned to Ai. His wife sighed and knelt down next to Song to embrace her.
"Song, our dear Song… We are all in deep sorrow over the loss of our beloved Urangtai, but… Please, we need you to confirm whether or not you know this god. We…" Her voice became a whisper. "... It may be naive to trust them…"
Song looked up at her grandmother's sympathetic smile, then around at the ground, at the children her depression had caused her to neglect, and finally at Yullian. She nodded weakly and mumbled, "They speak the truth… They are Yullian, and they keep their word."
Wenbo hummed. "How long have you been walking among us, Your Holiness? And… And how long have you known my granddaughter?"
“Long enough,” Yullian nodded and folded his arms, “And I must say I really enjoyed what you all did with the place -- really.”
Wenbo looked around. “It’s only a natural result of the countless joys and honours bestowed upon us by God and the Lord.” He eyed the statue with a partial frown. “... We are honoured to count Your work among those additions.”
“As you should be!” Yullian grinned, “It should also be known that prayers to myself by yon faithful and those who recognized my greatness has a direct connection to you populations recent expansion. So you see? My name is a name of help.” The godling clasped Wenbo’s hands between his own and gave a curly smile, “One not easily forgotten, too!”
Wenbo awkwardly shook the hand and forced a smile. “W-we are most honoured, certainly!” The smile became more and more genuine. “To think that we were so fortunate as to have a guardian such as Your Holiness - our people have never been more numerous! Our farmers have certainly worked their share to feed the younglings.” A small girl came over and tugged at the hem of the elder’s robe. Wenbo chuckled and hoisted her into his arms. “A blessing without compare, is to see one’s great grandchildren while still alive.”
Yullian seemed to bask in the compliment for a moment before nodded eagerly, “I’m so glad that you enjoy my gifts as much as I enjoyed granting them.” He turned on his heel, “But for now, I have quite the agenda to fill.”
“O-oh?”
“I’m a-” Yullian turned back slightly, “I’m a god, yeah? Gods have a lot they have to do, no?”
Nods spread out through the crowd. “Yes, I suppose,” Wenbo said. Yullian smiled playfully and as fast as they had appeared, they were gone. The Dreamers did not look too carefully for them - a god could disappear like smoke on the wind if they so desired, without giving mortals any hope of finding them.
It was then, a few hours later, that the sky rained fire. Pyres the size of Chuanwang’s head flared up in the heavens and began to approach, and the Dreamers stormed into their houses in vain hopes that they would protect them. It was then that Wenbo, the gift of fluency in any animal tongue still ripe in his mind in spite of age, hobbled his way over to Chuanwang’s head with the aid of his wife and children. With a frail, exhausted voice he called, “CHUANWANG! DIVE!” The monstrous turtle was reluctant, knowing full well the consequences of such an action. However, as more and more voices chimed in and made themselves understood with the help of the Babble Fish, the beast understood the situation. It filled its colossal lungs with air and dipped its head under the surface, the rest of its body following slowly.
It was just as Yullian had said. Around the city walls, a glass-like bubble extended far above them, protecting them from the crushing depths. The turtle dove deeper and deeper, schools of very confused fish parting before it. A whale passed over them and whistled a curious tune. The Dreamers who had huddled away in their homes came out to witness the sight. Everywhere was dim and dimming, but above the shine of day still twinkled through the waves. Great echoes through the bubble hinted that some of the flames had stuck the surface, and even the mighty Chuanwang was shaken by the shockwaves quivering through the sea. This continued for hours, and pained rumblings from their turtle mount made the Dreamers weep. Wenbo, exhausted from his run, was brought to his chambers by his children. Ai remained to keep morale high and gathered all the children and their parents in front of the palace to sing hymns to their God and Lord. Morin khuurs sang their songs of string to drown out the booms above, and eventually, the music deafened the chaos shaking the oceans. Chuanwang’s cries quieted down, but the Dreamers’ song continued, its spirit filling them with peace and tranquility even as the vile dangers around them faded away.
“Within in the dreams lies a great palace; The name of this palace is that of the Dreams; Far to the east runs the great rivers; The might of the rivers does sail those streams.
Much do I miss endless lands of green; Tree-eaters chasing the saplings far; Life with You, God, how would it have been? In time, we’ll know in Your great Moksha.
Great beast of Shengshi, o bear us far; Carry us into the distant dawn; Grant us a journey akin to what our Siblings are living out there beyond.
Great God, great Lord, we all pray to you - Safeguard us in this time of fright; Help us defend our children true; Please do not let us leave Your sights.
Thousand year turtle, we’re safe on you; We will here rest without fear of death; Lord and God, our faith renews; We sing your praises with every breath.
How we wish to be with our kin - Thousands of siblings of ages past; Great God, great Lord, help us go in Into great Moksha when we have passed.
Great God, great Lord, help us go in Into great Moksha when we have passed.
Great God, great Lord, help us go in Into great Moksha when we have passed...”
The hymn continued into the night, echoing into the surrounding sea. As fire boiled the water around them, however, the Dreamers were safe.
Yullian: 1mp, 4fp
Spent 1fp blessing the dreamer population with one generation of extremely fertile dreamers. Spent 3FP on a monument that negates artificial soul decay effects as well as allows the city to be submerged safely.
Left: 1mp, 0fp
Urangtai is locked in with Song, they find copper. Smithing begins and Yullian makes Song promise hers and all her childrens and their childrens (etc) devotion to him. She agrees and we time skip. All the dreamers are blessed with usper fertility for a generation, Song gets 40 kids and Urangtai kills himself.
Modern day, Yullian negates all artificial soul decay on the turtle city with a monument that also allows the city to go underliquid safely. Right on time as Yullian hops off to do more important things, Thanos rains fire. No one’s around to say “but sire our troops”, so the Dreamers result to diving to get out of the meteor shower. This works, even though it’s super scary. The dreamers sing to drown out existential crisis thoughts on account of the world ending. The city survives thanks to the wonderful shield.
The victory over the Elu and the Wogweh had meant everything. After Aloo and his warriors had come home triumphant, a simple call to arms was all it took to send the Wuhdige back on the warpath. Over the following two years after the Elu’s defeat and the Wogweh’s expulsion from the island, the Wuhdige dedicated themselves to claiming new land and new fishing grounds. Selka that had never before left the safety of Hohm cast themselves out into the woods and onto distant beaches to expand the tribe’s territory. Previously simple fruit and nut-picking camps were reinforced with better, sturdier burrows, and the ones closest to Hohm were reinforced with earth ditches and short palisades - some even had watchmen all year round. The whole northern tip of the island became populated as chieftain Aloo encouraged more and more selka to leave Hohm and establish new permanent camps by new fishing grounds.
As the second year approached, one of the northern camps, a small group of maybe ten selka, caught some wonderful-tasting fish: they were fat, juicy; they were slow and clumsy in the water. Catching them was pup’s play. The leader of this small camp, one named Hadama, decided to bring some back to Hohm. Immediately, it was a hit.
“Hadama, my dear friend,” said chief Aloo amiably to the grinning selka. “How ‘bout you bring us a share of this type of fish every now and then? How does once a month sound?”
“Well, if Lugo’s merciful enough to give us catches like that, I don’t see why not!” Hadama replied smilingly. “Though, if it’s alright wit’cha, chief, we need a couple’o things back at the camp.”
“Naturally, bro. What do you need?”
Hadama rubbed his hands hands together nervously. “W-well, if it ain’t too much to ask, chief, the trees up north are no good to chop with our tools - we could use a couple o’ axes and some firewood for the time while we chop.”
“Sounds good, bro,” Aloo declared and clapped Hadama on the shoulder. Duhwah came over with a long wooden pole, at the head of which was inserted a sharpened rock. The rock sat in a charred hole through the pole, making it sit fairly tightly. During the almost three years, Wuhdige knowledge of tools had crossed a threshold - a selka had one day been chopping at a tree with a sharpened rock as usual, when her spear had caught fire in the nearby pyre. Desperate to put it out, she had hammered at it with the rock in her hand, smashing it apart. Disheartened, she tried to reattach the tip, and found that a small split at the top of the spear pole where the fire had burned actually held the spear tip rather firmly. More experiments had been carried out after the news spread until the new stone axe had been invented. Now it, as well as the pickaxe and hammer, were the core tools of daily work.
Aloo placed the axe in Hadama’s hands and nodded. “Wood will be waiting for ya outside, bro - be safe on your way home.” Hadama grinned at the axe and took the chieftain’s hand. “Thank ya, chief! Thank ya so much!” He then strolled out with a happy hum.
Duhwah gave Aloo a friendly punch on the shoulder. “You’re doing better since the Wogweh left, chief.”
“Sure am, Duh. Every day, more and more selka come to Hohm to tell us that they’ve found new fishing grounds or berry bushes. If this keeps up, then I dunno what we’ll do with all this food.”
“Sounds like a good time for you to get yourself a girl and a bunch’a pups, son,” Duhwah proposed. Aloo made a frown and rubbed his hands together.
“W-well, sure, but… Already?”
Duhwah smacked him proudly on the back and Aloo unleashed a dry cough. “‘Course, son! After all these years of fightin’ and hatin’, we all gotta remember our roots, go back to what really matters…” The champion gave the chieftain a heartfelt smile. “Family.”
Aloo scratched his temple. “I mean… Yeah, I suppose.”
Woi’e, who had been sitting by the fire cave fire, stood up and hammered her fist to her chest. “Family’s everything, chief. You’re on your sixteenth year. It’s a good age to have your first.”
Aloo kept his earlier frown. “It’s just… I’ve not really thought about anything like that since, since pa got carried off. But, I mean… We gotta carry on our traditions, right?”
Duhwah and Woi’e nodded approvingly. “That’s right chief. So you’ll do it, then?”
Aloo nodded. “Ye--”
“Hold on! Are you discussing my boy’s marriage without me?!” came a yell from the cave mouth. The three turned to look at a semi-smiling Selenu, who went over and hugged Aloo tightly. “N’aaaaw! My little boy’s gunna get a girl and then get some pups! Your pa would’a been so proud!”
“M-ma! Not in front of my--eck!”
Selenu squeezed extra hard and pecked him on the scalp before letting go. “I have just the girl for ya, my boy. You know Agono?”
“The Agoh girl?” Duhwah asked. Woi’e shook her head.
“Oh, nah. Nah, nah, nah - the chief’s not taking an Agoh. Nuh-uh, nn-nn.”
Selenu put her fists on her hits. “Well, what do you suggest, then, Woi’e?”
The shieldboss crossed her arms over her chest triumphantly. “Isn’t it obvious? He should take a Woiwoi for wife! My sister and niece are both ready to mingle!”
“Your sister has almost thirty years and your niece is ten!” Selenu protested. Woi’e shrugged.
“Okay, so there are -some- complications, but--”
“No!” Aloo interrupted. Both of them turned to him and Woi’e hung her head. Aloo gave her a sheepish pat on the arm. “Don’t wanna be mean, Woi’e, but, uh… Someone my age, aight?”
Woi’e gave a defeated nod and the chief turned to Selenu. “Any other, ma?”
The woman tugged at her chin thoughtfully. “Weeeell… How about Duhwah’s--”
“Taken,” Duhwah interrupted with a headshake.
“Well, then I got nothing,” Selenu sighed.
“Could take a Yupa?” Woi’e suggested.
“No one there in the right age. They’re either far past twenty or below ten,” Duhwah explained.
Aloo groaned. “Guess I gotta wait a bit, huh--”
“Chieftain!” A man stood in the door, and the four knew him as Yup, head of the Yupa. Their faces conveyed worry and the chieftain spoke, “What? What is it, Yup?”
The well-groomed man swallowed. “Waves in the water, chief! Someone’s coming!” Duhwah and Woi’e’s eyes widened and Aloo put on a furious scowl.
“Darn Wogwehs dunno when to quit. Spears! Clubs! Shields! The sand gunna be red for weeks after I’m done with ‘em!”
“But chief! Some have gotten onto the beach!” Yup added. Aloo drew a panicked breath.
“And you didn’t come before?! How many are dead?!” The chieftain stomped towards the cave mouth, grabbing his spear on the way. Yup grabbed him by the chubby fur around his neck and kept him from charging ahead.
“That’s just it, chief. They, they come in peace!”
Aloo froze and turned; the others stopped preparing for war. “What did you say, Yup?”
“They’re not here to fight, chief, they’re… They’re here to join us.” They all exchanged glances and Aloo shrugged himself lose. He squeezed Yup’s shoulder in gratitude and turned to the others.
“Keep weapons ready in case it’s a plot.” He then went out, spear in hand, but not elevated. The others followed suit.
Outside, the whole of Hohm had gathered to behold the arrival of almost fifty new strangers. They were not painted like the Wuhdige - instead, they wore animal fur cloaks that were soaked and heavy from the water and carried with them sacks fashioned from beast stomachs. Aloo furrowed his brow and turned to Duhwah for advice. The champion nodded for him to do whatever and Aloo stabbed the butt end of his spear into the sand and said, “You stand on Wuhdige lands, strangers! You are welcome so long as you got no mean things in mind!”
One of the selka in front, an old woman, approached the chieftain flanked by a younger man and woman. “Then we’ve arrived at the right place. Ye’re the chieftain, then?” the old lady asked.
“Right place? Who are you?” Aloo demanded. Duhwah motioned for him to calm down. It was an older lady he was talking to, after all. Aloo nodded. “Sorry. Yes, I’m the chief. Aloo is my name. Who are you?”
The old lady smiled and held her arms out to the side. The young adults flanking her took each arm and slowly, the old lady bowed down before Aloo. The chieftain took a step back and said, “What’s this?”
“Chief Aloo,” the old lady said warmly, “we’ve traveled a long, long way to find ye and the Wuhdige.”
“Why?” Woi’e asked suddenly. The old lady turned her smile to the enormous woman.
“Because ye saved my people.”
Aloo blinked. “W-we did? We don’t even know you!”
The old lady chuckled. “No, ye probably wouldn’t. Our tribe isn’t as big as yers. These are all that’s left. We are the Patum, once of the holy land of Patumkam, and I am their leader, Toppoma. We used to have a great big plot - bigger than we could ever fill, but oh, did we try. We became many, but not enough. Didn’t take long for the Wogweh to snuff us out.”
“Wait, the Wogweh? You’ve met the Wogweh?”
“Oh, yeah,” Toppoma confirmed. “Fifty years ago, families kept coming to the chief’s, my father’s, home, telling of a gang of beasts making havoc on the fringes. So my father took his warriors and went out. No one came back.” She shook her head. “It didn’t take long after that before they came to our village. They killed most of our men and took most of our pups and women as prisoners. We were taken to Dun-ar-Wog where they did… Real mean things.”
The listeners’ faces paled. Aloo pressed his lips together and closed his eyes in rage. “The elders say they were so few. How did they get you all?”
“Against a hundred unarmed men, ten with spears and plans will win,” Toppoma mumbled forebodingly. “We had nothing to defend us with. Our attacks had no plans or system. We were like fish to them - ready for catching…”
Duhwah nodded. “We… We have met them on the field before. Their fightin’ plans are pretty smart.”
Toppoma nodded. “And even without a plan, they are disciplined and well-trained. We were taken instantly almost…” There was a pause before the old lady pointed a quivering, boney finger at Aloo’s face. The chieftain took a half-step back. “But then!” the old lady exclaimed and her helpers thought she was going to keel forward. “But then, we got news there in the slave pits of Dun-ar-Wog! A Wogweh ally, the Elu, had been defeated by a far off tribe called the Wuhdige, and among them was a dangerous, mighty warrior - Aloo, their chief!” Aloo swallowed as more of the Patum gathered around him with awe in their eyes.
“M-me, Toppoma?”
“That’s right!” the old lady said in a particularly strained voice and coughed dryly. “That’s right, son. The news changed it all. The Wogweh had never lost control of anywhere before. Even our holy Patumkam is under their control still. Nowhere had their dominance been questioned - until they came here, to yer island!”
Woi’e raised a hand and said, “Toppoma, our island is very big! We don’t even control half of it yet and--”
“Oh, but you don’t understand, girl,” the old lady cackled. “It was the victory, the victory that did it all! It gave us hope! It even scared the Wogweh for a time - enough time for them to look away when we escaped!” She clapped her boney hands together and the sound they made was painful to listen to. “We came to ye as fast as we could. Our holy Patumkam is still under Wogweh control, but, but we want to fight for it. Fight as ye did, Wuhdige.”
Aloo was at a loss for words. Whenever he tried to formulate sentences, they seemed to melt apart in his mouth. The Patum around him giggled at his dumbstruck expression and Toppoma reached out to squeeze his hand. “Heheheh, was it a bit much, maybe?”
Selenu stepped forward a bit. “We just got in a good deal of fish, actually, so we can probably feed y’all. But y’all gotta dig your own burrows.”
“Burrows?” the old lady asked herself and the Patum looked around on the beach to realise that the Wuhdige indeed slept in deep holes in the sand and dirt roofed with sticks, dirt and leaves. Their reactions ranged everywhere from giggles and sighs. Toppoma shook her head. “No, no need for that. We can make longhouses from the trees up ahead. Should do fine.”
“Longhouses?” Duhwah asked with a scratch of the head. The surrounding Wuhdige glanced at one another in confusion.
“That’s right!” said the young male helping Toppoma. “It’s a long hut that--ow!”
Toppoma shook the hand she had just slapped him with. “Shush when grandma’s talking, Pilomo! But yeah, it’s a long hut that houses many families in it - think our biggest back when I was a girl had five whole families in it.”
The Wuhdige gasped at the concept. “Wait, you put five families in a room that is not a cave?” Woi’e blurted out. “How?!”
“Why, by building it big,” said the old lady with a toothless grin, then cocked her head to the side a little. “Ye do built things, right?”
“W-we make igloos,” Selenu offered.
“Igloo? What’s that?” replied the old lady.
“It’s a house of snow,” said Aloo.
“Only really good for the winters then, isn’t it?” the old lady replied with pursed lips. “Tell ye what - ye let us stay, and we’ll make sure ye don’t have to sleep in burrows anymore. Sounds like a plan?”
Aloo looked to the others. They nodded with broad smiles. As did the other Wuhdige. Aloo turned back to Toppoma with a grin that threatened to carve his head in half. “Then you are welcome on our island!”
There was a resounding cheer and the old lady shuffled over to embrace Aloo amiably. In the following weeks, it didn’t take long for the Patum to get started. They were already very familiar with the tools used by the Wuhdige, and using Wuhdige paint, the Patum builders drew up schematics and materials on the walls for the selka to gather. With stone-bladed axes, the selka workers, now reinforced by a third of its previous numbers, began turning the woods into longhouses around Home Cave. The cave itself was upgraded with a wooden roof around the opening, making it for the first time possible for a subset of every Wuhdige family to sleep ‘within’ the cave. As winters came, some kept to the igloo tradition while others found that the longhouses worked just as well in snow as in rain, heliopolis or wind. To keep the larger longhouses extra warm during the winters, the roofs were insulated with thatch and dirt - the sand floor was covered in the furs of boars, bears, wolves and other beasts the increasingly bold selka hunters tracked down. In three years, the whole of Hohm had gone from holes in the ground scattered across a great beach to a small number of longhouses that together housed two whole tribes. Some became storage houses, and the Wuhdige quickly found that fruits, vegetables, legumes and dried fish kept much longer when not stored in burrows. Furthermore, at the request of old Toppoma, a distance away there was built a hut to function as a temple to their god, Patumkam-patum. There, the Patum went to pray every full moon, and while many Wuhdige found their traditions odd at first, what with an extreme respect for the elderly regardless of familial bonds and an emphasis on clothing, the two tribes seemed to blend quite well. As time went on, intermarriages took place, and Aloo himself ended up marrying the granddaughter of Toppoma, Kama. It was a joyous time, and Aloo found a peace of mind that he only truly had felt back when his family was whole. When Toppoma passed on four years after their arrival, her grandson Pilomo became the chieftain of the Patum, and lead them according to Aloo’s wishes. The two got along splendidly, and often competed in games or together in tag teams against others. It didn’t take long for Kama to bear children, and she and Aloo were soon blessed with triplets.
Then, the same year that Toppoma had passed, another group of Selka came to the shore. The last six years had been kind to the Wuhdige - fish had been plentiful, as had the fruits, nuts and vegetables of the woods. However, Aloo, Duhwah and Woi’e knew that if these came with the same intentions as the Patum once had, they would have to expand their reach even beyond.
Another twenty, these selka numbered. The Wuhdige and Patum numbered all in all nearly two hundred. To take them in would not only necessitate more houses, but also greater prospection into fishing grounds and fruit trees. Aloo, nowadays donning the fur cloak of his wife’s culture, stepped out of his cave with his bone spear in hand. Flanked he was by Duhwah, Woi’e, Pilomo and Selenu. The newcomers were dressed much in the same way as the Wuhdige once had - loincloths of fur without much else. However, instead of spears, most of them had odd curved sticks where the tips were held together by one strained string. On their hips, many of them had long wicker pipes, almost, filled with more sticks. Most interesting, perhaps, was that a number of the newcomers remained at the beach while a subset approached the chieftain. Those that remained on the beach seemed to be tending to some animals, and upon closer inspection, the Wuhdige noticed that they were seals.
Aloo eyed the barking seals with a mixture of a smile and a frown on his face. He had of course seen a multitude of seals in his admittedly short life, but they were competition in the sea - friendly competition, of course. Killing seals felt very wrong, after all - it was almost like killing a distant cousin. His eyes turned away from the seals for a moment to look upon the approachers. It was a giant of a selka, nearly every fiber boasting strength and might. Across his chest a tight string dug into his skin, connected as it was to a mighty branch on his back. He was flanked by two smaller females, though neither of these could truly be considered small - one of them rivaled the size of Woi’e, and Aloo could tell from her expression that she was not happy about it. The giant gave Aloo a deep bow and asked, “Are you Aloo, chieftain of the Wuhdige tribe?”
Aloo tried his best to appear impartial to the giant’s size, his every instinct telling him to at least consider flight. “I am, good stranger, and who’s you?”
The giant straightened himself up and hammered his chest proudly. “I am Kameyameya, chieftain of the Byuto tribe. We have traveled far, and further than far, in search of the great warrior Aloo - the man they say took down six greater men armed with spears while he himself was unarmed!”
Aloo gulped. “W-well, to be fair, Duhwah helped me.” He thumbed over to his champion, who grinned.
“Hardly!” Duhwah protested. “He’s bein’ modest, friends! Aloo’s a proper wrestler and better warrior!” Aloo shrunk a little while his skin reddened. Kameyameya thundered a roaring laughter, as did the women flanking him.
“Hah! No need to be shy, young chieftain! Greatness should be boasted about, not hidden! I myself have taken a hundred skulls - a hundred, I say! How many have you taken?”
“Wait, skulls?” Aloo asked. Kameyameya nodded.
“‘Course, chief. Us Byuto are descendants of the war god Byuto! Glory, they promise, glory numbered in collected skulls and wives!”
Pilomo frowned. “I take it it’s selka skulls you collect?” To their surprise, Kameyameya shook his head.
“No, no, not just! Sure, Byuto in their rage may crave some selka skulls every now and then, but to Byuto, survival is also a war! We wage war against death!”
“Against death!” the women behind him echoed proudly. Aloo found himself smiling a little.
“So of these hundred skulls, many’s animal skulls?”
Kameyameya pointed to a wolf-skull on a think sinew string around his neck. “That’s right, chief! Above all, us Byuto stalk the woods and seas in search of prey so we can beat back that nasty death for another week! Against death, HOO-HAH!”
“HOO-HAH!” the women echoed. Aloo clapped excitedly along and thundered his own “hoo-hah!” Woi’e lowered her brows suspiciously.
“Did you just come here to join our chieftain because he’s a great warrior?” she asked and Kameyameya’s beaming grin faded. His eyes darkened and he shook his head.
“No… No, as much as I wish that was the case, friends.” He gestured down to the beach. “You see how few we are. In truth, we used to be many more - lots of strong lads and pretty women. But… There’s a mean, mean foe on the other side of the strait - one that even our Byuto blood can’t help us best.”
Pilomo drew a shivering breath and nodded. “The Wogweh, correct?” Kameyameya nodded. “We’ve faced beasts taller than trees and fish larger than a selka, but never have we faced someone with a mind like Roganweh. I remember it clearly, the day, that fateful day,” he drew a quick breath, “we were outside. Camp was just being packed up. To hide from the Wogweh raiders earlier, we had taken refuge deep in the woods. I… I still don’t know how they did it. Our bows gives us advantage far away, but they somehow snuck up on us through bushes and leaves and broken branches. We were beaten in a heartbeat. Those that made it off managed to get to the sea where our seals were waiting for us. We had heard rumours of your victory against them for a long time, son. We knew there was hope across the strait.
So we came.”
Aloo felt the almost decade old hatred resurface. A black bile of rage boiled in his belly. “How do they do it? How does such a small tribe manage to kill so many? Ruin so much?”
“It’s the will of Kirron, they say,” one of the ladies behind Kameyameya offered. The giant stepped to the side and gestured to the both of them.
“Oh, right - these are my wives, Oklahoma and Tutonkha. Oklahoma used to be a Wogweh slave until we broke her out of the camp.”
Selenu frowned. “Wives?”
Kameyameya nodded. “Byuto encourages the strong to take as many mates as they can! The pack forms around the strongest, and the strongest breed stronger!”
“Can’t argue with that,” Duhwah agreed and Selenu shot him a disappointed frown.
Tutonkha thumbed over her shoulder. “Gopapa has three husbands. She’s over there on the beach.” Selenu traced her thumb to see another monster of a selka down on the beach as expected. A scarred female towered over the others, even as she knelt to feed an adorable white seal pup a small piece of fish. Selenu swallowed nervously.
“When you say the will of Killon,” Aloo said to get the conversation back on track, “what do you mean?”
Oklahoma sighed and shook her head. “They’re blood-priests, the lot of them. Slaves have three fates in Dun-ar-Wog: either die in the fighting pits to please Kirron; work until death; or just become a blood sacrifice directly to Him. Arganweh, their chieftain, claims to be an oracle of Kirron, and he keeps legions of slave soldiers loyal with fear.”
Aloo shook his head in disbelief. “How--... How can one selka keep control of so many? Can’t they just take him down?”
Oklahoma shook her head dejectedly and the two others hung their heads in defeat. “He has Kirron on his side. One day, there was a revolt against him. Ten slaves attacked the chieftain’s stronghold and broke inside. However, no one came out. According to the rumours, they were burned alive by Kirron’s wrath.”
“B-burned alive?” Pilomo barely dared to utter. Oklahoma nodded.
“They say the chieftain called for Kirron’s aid and shot a blast of fire out of his bare hands. The rebels were turned to ash that same moment. The next morning, Roganweh, his brother,” Oklahoma noted Aloo’s darkened expression, “who it looks like you’ve met… Well, he came to the slave pits the next day and cast their ashes over us, saying that such was the price for rebellion.”
The Wuhdige exchanged worried glances. “O-out of his bare hands, how?!” Duhwah exclaimed. Oklahoma sighed.
“It’s the will of Kirron,” she repeated. “That’s what kept them all in line.”
Aloo gave the three an inquisitive look. “Well, if they have the Red Boy on their side, what gives you hope? Why do y’all come here where they could attack you?”
Kameyameya reached out to squeeze Aloo’s shoulder. “Because you give us hope, son. All rebellion has ended the same way - those that have tried to defend their lands have been destroyed by Roganweh’s battleplans; those that have rebelled against Arganweh in their camps have been burned to crisps. But you, your tribe has withstood an invasion and shown that there are flaws in their plans.” The giant lowered himself to one knee - as did his wives. “We want to help. We want Byuto’s bone debt to be paid - for every Byuto skull the Wogweh have claimed, so shall we claim Wogweh skulls. We won’t be a hassle to ya, son - we bring with us our bows, seals and skills - all to be shared in exchange for a place in your tribe.”
Aloo looked over at the group in the distance again and then back at Kameyameya. “Well, alright, then. Pilomo.” Pilomo nodded and Aloo said, “let us build another longhouse, this one not too far from Home Cave. Made it able to house all twenty of the Byuto.”
“Yes, chieftain,” Pilomo said and walked off. Aloo looked up at the grinning face of the giant and held out his hand.
“I hope your skill with that bow is as good as your skill with words,” he said and the giant thundered another laugh, squeezing the chieftain’s hand nearly until the bones popped.
“How about I give you some lessons so you can be as good as me, huh?”
So it was that the Byuto joined the Wuhdige and the Patum. Integration was a little rough at first: Kameyameya and Gopapa made frequent attempts to woo Wuhdige and Patum males and females, and their enormous frames made the wrestling tournaments rather one sides much to Duhwah, Woi’e and Aloo’s despair. However, months became years, and as four years had passed, the three tribes had found the balances between their cultures: The Wuhdige moved their sacrifice to Lugo if it fell on a Patum prayer day; the Byuto kept their polygamous and polyandrous relationship closed off within their own tribe; and the Patum learned not to comment on the Wuhdige’s tradition for living in igloos in the winter. Both the Byuto and the Wuhdige learned to respect Patum elders and to make fur cloaks; the Wuhdige and the Patum began to collect animal skulls to please the Byuto; and both the Byuto and the Patum engaged in Wuhdige games and learned to put great emphasis on family.
The Byuto seals became a powerful tool in fishing, the seals functioning as fetchers and hunters that dove much deeper than the selka. Their bows became essential in hunting, and their wicker quivers opened to the Wuhdige a whole new world of wicker craftsmanship. The larders and drying racks grew fuller than ever, and with the additions of Byuto hunted meats, the selka in Hohm ate like never before. Hohm expanded and new hunting camps and the like were founded around the island.
Aloo thought back to the faithful victory against the Elu ten years ago. Thanks to that fateful night, their tribe had tripled in size in ten years; they were harvesting more food than ever before; and with Patum houses and Byuto bows, they became a civilisation to be reckoned with.
The chieftain swore to himself that, for as long as he lived, he would see to it that the Wuhdige, Byuto and Patum could achieve their retribution against the Wogweh, and one day live in peace from the great shadow stretching from the mainland.
For now, though, there was peace to be had - a prosperous future of love and family, just like the last ten years.
Yeah 1: Aloo and the rest have just beaten the Elu. The Wuhdige settle in for peace. Year 2: The Wuhdige have expanded with new berry picker camps and fishing grounds that are manned all year round. They’ve made more complex stone tools and stuff. That same year, they receive a new tribe in the fold: the Patum. The Patum come from Patumkam and worship a god named Patumkam-patum. Their holy land Patumkam was attack by the Wogweh and they heard that the Wuhdige beat the Wogweh back. Thus they unite and give the Wuhdige longhouses, fur cloaks and 50 new selka. Year 6: Aloo is married to a Patum girl. They get another new tribe called the Byuto, who are hunters and warriors who worship the war god they are descended from, Byuto. They, too, have a bone to pick with the Wogweh, and the chieftain Kameyameya’s wife, Oklahoma, tells the Wuhdige that the Wogweh have power because their chieftain, Arganweh, can control fire with his hands. The Byuto bring with them bows, wicker, pet seals and 20 new selka. Things are great and stuff is learned!
Toppoma, deceased chieftain of the Patum. Pilomo, chieftain of the Patum, grandson of Toppoma. Kama, wife of Aloo, granddaughter of Toppoma. Kameyameya, chieftain of the Byuto. Oklahoma, first wife of Kameyameya. Tutonkha, second wife of Kameyameya. Gopapa, warrioress of the Byuto.
Wenbo sat silently on a carpet on the veranda of the city palace. By his feet his crown had been neatly placed and the great golden mantle laid not too distantly from it again. The dreamer lord had a slow, steady breath; his eyes were fixed on the great bright mist in the sky. A myriad of worries and anxieties filled his mind and with a strained wince, he focused all his concentration into drowning them out. Moksha had shown him a multitude of sights and played a symphony of sounds. There was laughter, song, grunts and sighs, and one thunderous guffaw stood out in particular, a cheerful bass that seemed to vibrate the very bones of its listeners. Wenbo snorted out two quick shoots of air and felt that familiar itch in his nose that always seemed to come whenever he meditated on Moksha. Two fingers dabbed his orange-ringed eye and Wenbo shook his head with a weak snicker.
“Hey, Chaggie… Wouldn’t be possible for you to pass down some leadership tips from up there, would it?
Moksha didn’t reply much, Wenbo had found, but there was a certain joy in the hope that up there, in God’s grace, his beloved brother was listening. A pang of longing slammed into his chest like a hammer and Wenbo nearly felt the need to cough. He cleared his throat instead and went into a routine kowtow.
“... To my God, I offer my faith; to my family, my love. I miss you all, and will see you when my time here has come to an end.”
A faint green wink of light flickered in the nebula and Wenbo felt another sting in the nose. He stood up and dusted off his knees before collecting the mantle and the crown and heading into his bedroom.
“Wenbo, dear?” came Ai’s voice from the changing room.
“Yes, love?” replied Wenbo absent-mindedly as he placed the mantle on a clay mannequin.
“Have you seen Bean Bun anywhere?” The alabaster-haired face peeked out from the curtain-covered doorway. Wenbo hummed.
“Nnnno… Not for a few hours, anyway. Maybe he’s in the wine cellar again?”
Ai gave a light groan and went back inside. “Could you go check? I’d rather not have him drink the wine we’ve been saving for Yongqi’s marriage.”
Wenbo clicked his tongue. “A fair point. I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Oh, and check on Bei, too, would you? She’s so nervous for her speech.”
“I will, I will.” The dreamer lord put on his wicker sandals and pushed aside the wood-and-paper slider door to the hallway, bringing with him a torch. The hallway’s darkness fled before the flickering light of the torch as Wenbo made his way down the complicated maze of corridors and empty rooms. He could never remember which ones everyone had moved into, and it annoyed him that only a subset of his children and grandchildren had bothered to hang up namesigns on their doors. The further he went, the more the doors and rooms seemed to blend into one another. Finding Bei’s room in the darkness would take ages.
He would head to the cellars first. At least then, he had some scent to follow.
“It’s a profound joy to be given the honour of holding this speech to my--... No, no, no, that’s so convoluted…”
Wen Bei rubbed her bloodshot eyes. She had spent days writing this speech for her precious nephew, little Yongqi who in many ways had been just as much her own son as it was her brother’s. He was in his late teens now, and set to wed the beautiful young Changchun. Bei hoped she could still rely on him to come by every now and then and help her with the harvest and the baking. Oh, and babysit little Rende and Kongrong. In a multitude of different ways, she wanted to thank him - but to condense all of these into a simple speech was much harder than the lady had thought it would be. She took another deep breath and started over:
“It’s a profound joy to speak my love, no, appreciation? No, no, uhm… Ugh…” She put down her script again. She looked over her shoulder to see her husband, Jochi, droning a quiet snore. She sighed and went over to their window. She looked up to the green mists of Moksha and closed her eyes. Calm violins filled the room around her; the sugary scent of sweetgrass tickled at her nostrils; distant giggles of old friends and family echoed in the corners of her mind. A tranquil warmth lazed its way through her body and Bei felt her legs buckle slightly.
The wedding was still a few days off. She stole a glance at the bed again. She could allow her mind some rest, she thought.
There it was again. The jerk of neck, ab and back muscles as the body realises it’s about to keel over. Snap, he had fallen asleep on guard again! Wen Tian slapped his cheek in frustration and scanned the multitude of wine pots he could see from his stool. Snapping-- He was the second oldest son of Wenbo and Ai and he would be damned before some snooping cloudling got into the pots on his wa--
”Pop-pop…”
Tian jerked to his feet and grabbed the small pot of sour wine next to his stool. He pulled off the cloth lid and slowly snook his way between the tall wine pots in the dark room. He squinted as hard as he could, the dark outlines of pots, shelves and lids sharpening a little bit.
One lid in particular seemed a little too bloated.
Carefully, Tian shuffled up to the bloated lid and, holding ready the pot of sour wine, gave the lid a poke.
There came an eggy burp from the pot and Tian winced with a quiet “ugh”. No, that was just fermentation at work.
”Zzt!”
Tian spun around. A couple of pots away, a translucent shape drifted slowly up from under a half-open lid. It popped suspiciously at the surroundings and Tian shouted, “Aw, snap-- Bean Bun!”
The cloudling spun about and gave a chuckle-like pop before soaring off. Tian gave chase, nearly tipping a number of pots in the process. He wafted his hand over the sour wine to spread the smells, but the cloudling didn’t seem interested. However, Tian knew he had him cornered, for Bean Bun was heading towards the door in the corner.
And the door was locked!
“It’s over, Bean Bun! You have nowhere to run!” Tian exclaimed triumphantly and made himself as big as he could by stretching out his arms and taking a wide stance with his legs.
The cloudling had no face, but its bewilderment was evident in its ”Pop?” Tian slowly closed in, a victorious smirk on his lips.
Then the door swung open and a blinding light set the wine cellar aflame with radiance. Tian fell backwards to the ground, dropping the pot of wine to the floor with a hollow, lucky thunk! He threw his hands up in defense and bellowed, “LIGHT! AGONY! AAAAAGH!”
“Tian, son, what’re you doing?” came a confused voice.
Tian uncovered his face and scrambled to his feet. As his eyes adjusted to the flickering flame, he recognised the slightly worried frown of his father. Tian dusted himself off and grinned. “Oh! Hey, dad! Uh, nothing! Just… Guarding the wine! As per your instructions.”
Wenbo pursed his lips. “Yeah, that’s, uhm… Great! Say, have you… Been sitting in here all night?”
“Yeah, ‘course. Gotta, gotta protect the wine, you know. Just doing my duty, dad.”
“Naturally, son, but… You sure you wouldn’t want some fresh air? Maybe a bite to eat?”
“Thanks, but no thanks, dad! I must keep my keen eye on these pots so no cloudlings get-- Oh no!” Tian sidestepped Wenbo and looked up the stairwell. Bean Bun was nowhere to be found. “... Bean Bun got away…”
“Oh, so he was in here?” Wenbo asked with a hum.
“Yeah… And now he’s gone…” Tian said in deep defeat.
Wenbo patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Tian. Don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t happen to know which pot Bean Bun drank from?”
Tian shook his head. “It was dark. They all look the same in the shadows.”
Wenbo huffed and went over to the pots with his torch, inspecting each of the lids. When he came across the half-open one, he snickered and stuck his hand inside. Tian came over to see and after a few moments of Wenbo rummaging inside, there came a surly “Zzt!” Out of the pot came a small flock of newborn cloudlings, some of which buried themselves in Wenbo and Tian’s black hair. Wenbo shook the wine off his hand and chuckled; Tian stared at the crowd of cloudlings on his father’s head and poked the pile on his own.
“Oh, well,” Wenbo said with a snicker. “I suppose it’s fine if we don’t get completely knock-out drunk at the wedding.”
Tian hung his head. “Are you ashamed of me, dad?”
Wenbo scoffed and squeezed his son’s shoulder. “Ashamed of my son for something like this? I’m not His Lordship, blessings upon Him. No, if you think I’ll scold my thirty year old son for this like you were some toddler, then you’re overthinking this.”
Tian gave a weak chuckle. “Heh… Yeah. I, uh, I think I ought to head to bed.”
“Sounds like a plan, son,” Wenbo agreed. “Say good night to Shenmei for me, would you?”
“If she’s not already asleep. Thanks, dad.” With drowsy steps, the second oldest son shuffled up the dark stairwell towards his room, the cloudlings on his head lazily hitching a ride and popping gleefully all the way.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAGH!” came a squeal from the next room. Wen De’s groggy eyes opened with reluctance and he poked the shape of his wife.
“Chunhua, could you--”
“Nuh-uh,” came a defiant voice. De deflated. “Pleeeeeaaase?”
“I did it last night…” Chunhua insisted and curled up further under the thin blanket. De gave a groan.
“Fine… I’ll be right back.” The youngest of Wenbo’s sons sat up on the side of the bed, did a half-hearted stretch and stood up, shuffling into the next room. The squeals had doubled now, as the first twin had awoken his brother and now the two were having a fight to see who could scream the loudest. De dragged his feet over to their bed and groaned again.
“Heeeey, kids… What’s going on?”
They slowly quieted down and Yun said, “Tu scared me!”
“I had a nightmare!” the little Tu defended. De squatted down next to be bed and amiably stroked his son’s head.
“What kind of nightmare, son?”
Tu pouted. “It-... It had Yun in it, and it had the fall, and, and, and… Yun got hurt again, and then a big meanie roar came and, and--”
De sighed and gave him a hug. “Hey, it’s alright. Yun’s fine, right, Yun?”
“I’m thirsty,” the little boy complained.
“Okay, so fine soon, but no hurt anywhere, right? No broken arm again?”
Yun waved his right arm about and shook his head. “No, don’t think so.”
“See, Tu? Your brother’s fine, and the roaring? That’s just Chuanwang, you know. He’s just an old tortoise and he’s really nice.”
“He’s really scary,” Tu insisted. “What if he eats me? Or you and mommy? Or Yun?”
De sat down on the edge of the bed and ruffled the hair of them both. “Hey, listen - Chuanwang won’t eat any of us. He doesn’t like Dreamers, he’s-... He’s vegetarian.”
“What’s vedgetaran?” Yun asked.
“It means he only eats vegetables, like grampa Wenbo.”
“Are there vegetables that big, dad?”
De shrugged. “Maybe? I’d like to find out some day, too, really.” He gave them each a peck on the forehead. “Go back to sleep now, boys. We’ll be in the next room as always.” He tucked the twins in under the blanket. “Good ni--”
“POP!”
De turned around and the twins sat back up. “Was that Noodle?” Tu asked curiously.
“No, Noodle says ‘zzt’, not ‘pop’,” Yun corrected and Tu hummed. De went over to the window and looked out. A smile cracked across his face and he beckoned to the twins.
“Boys, come see this.”
The twins looked at each other, then quickly got out of bed and hurried over to the windowsill. Outside, across the green streak of Moksha, a swarm of cloudlings followed a slightly darker one, one they immediately recognised as Bean Bun. The boys giggled in amusement as the stressed little cloudling was seemingly chased down and possibly interrogated by its friends about where it had found all that sweet-smelling wine. De put a hand on the shoulders of each of the boys and smiled.
“Remember to thank Lord K’nell for giving us cloudlings now, boys.”
“Thank you, Lord K’nell,” the twins echoed along with their dad and the three remained staring at the spectacle for a slight while longer.
Wenbo’s thinking about Moksha and is having some anxieties about his leadership. Moksha doesn’t respond much, but he’s happy to get it off his chest. As he’s about to go to bed, Ai asks him to check if he’s seen their cloudling Bean Bun. Wenbo hasn’t, so they conclude he might be in the wine cellar. Wenbo heads down.
Perspective switches to Wen Bei, who’s pretty nervous about a speech for her nephew’s wedding. As she consults Moksha about it, Moksha tells her through music and tranquility that she should rest and instead work on it the day after, rather than stress herself out.
Perspective switch to Wen Tian who’s on guard in the cellar. He wakes up after having fallen asleep, only to find that there has been a breach and that Bean Bun’s drinking from the wedding wine. He tries to catch it and even corners it at one point, but Wenbo enters with a torch and blinds Wen Tian who’s been sitting in the dark. Wenbo asks if his son is fine and after some chatting, Tian comes to the conclusion that he should go to bed. Bean Bun has spawned a bunch of cloudlings, though, and these take refuge on both their heads.
Perspective shift to Wen De who has to put his twins back to sleep. Tu’s had a nightmare and woke up Yun, too, so De soothes them both. The post ends with all three of them watching Bean Bun get chased by other cloudlings.
Hectore’s voice thundered throughout the dark throne room. The endless line of complaint-carrying citizens of Asteria barely shortened as the next individual stepped up to the throne. Polyastera let out a quiet snore and Philia timidly poked her back to life. The queen quickened to and blinked, then fixed a glare on the approaching woman. She had completely lost count of how many she had heard today. This whole complaint line idea had been Pallason’s idea - given that the number of people unsatisfied with the utter lack of luxuries had increased dramatically over the past several months.
“I am queen Polyastera, queen of the blah-blah-blah, you’ve heard it a million times already. What do you want?”
Woman frowned back and bowed. “Well, Polly, it’s--”
“-My queen-!”
“Well, -my queen-,” the woman corrected sourly, “I’ve come to ask about the new beds you promised to distribute, and--”
“Yes, well, it’s not quite in the budget - sorry!”
The woman didn’t even look surprised. She hung her head and nodded. “As expected.” She stood up and spat on the floor. “You should have never been cr--UGH!”
The woman dropped lifelessly to the floor. Behind her, a guard hung his blackjaw from his belt and, together with a colleague, lifted the woman up and took her away. Those behind her didn’t even seem to care, and many shook their heads at the woman’s stupidity. Hectore sighed and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I will repeat - to insult the queen is to insult the people. Speak up against our queen Polyastera and your corpse will fuel the Twillight Forge. Next!”
The lines continued not to shrink, surly, exhausted Nebulites soullessly bringing their queries before the queen for another few hours. It was unlikely that any of them truly cared for what they were complaining about - every day went to work in the shoddy fields or on the River God’s temple - any outlet for their anger and frustration was warmly welcome.
Polyastera put a hand on her protruding belly and sucked in a furious breath. She had sent the last one to the Forge simply out of spite. In the beginning, there had been a certain rush in it - a joy even: the thrill of power of another’s life. The feeling had grown stale much too quickly, though - even as her cronies and followers had been armed with divine weaponry to enslave the rest of their population; in fact, such power over the majority had dulled the feeling further.
However, while sadistic joys grew stale, the harvests and hunts brought in tons of food even in their disorganised states, and Polyastera and her friends ate like the royalty they were - and as the pregnancy caused her body to store more fat, her opulent lifestyle started showing.
She pushed herself out of her throne and went to her chambers. There, Hectore was already waiting for her at the window overlooking the tiers below. He gave a groan and turned to Polyastera.
“Eight. That’s how many rose up against you today.”
“And now they’re gone,” Polly soothed and pecked him on the mouth. “You did well, my love. How did the fishing trip go?”
Hectore pursed his lips. “Well, the good news is--”
“There are bad news?”
“A few.”
“Well, what are they?”
“There have been delays again with the stone for the construction, but that wasn’t really relevant to the fishing question.”
Polyastera grit her teeth and stalked over to a bowl-like stone in which her cronies had managed to reproduce something that gave a faint sensation like wine-induced drunkenness. The taste was appalling, but at least there came a buzz after a number of cups. As her widening hips showed, Polyastera had been drinking buckets of late.
“Always, always - ALWAYS! They know -DAMN- well we cannot start construction without the stone and yet they have the audacity to delay…” She chugged the sorry excuse for wine and stormed over to the window. “Get Laurien - I want her and a hundred more to show those disgustingly lazy stonemongerers that when Polyastera wants her stone, she will get her stone.”
Hectore sighed. “You know we can’t kill them all. There’d be no one left to--”
“We won’t kill them, Hectore - we’ll just show them that we’ll do whatever it takes to finish that stupid temple!” She gasped for breath and held a hand on her chest. “Sorry… Just… Go find Laurien, please.”
Hectore nodded slowly. “Yes, my queen.” Then he walked off.
Laurien sat outside in the shade of her balcony. It overlooked the lower tiers, and the hustle of daily life for the Nebulites. It did not sit so high as the palace and in fact, was on the other side of the tier. Far removed from Polly's failures, and just how she liked it. Her own home, with a garden in bloom and even a small pool. Surrounding her on the balcony was her, and littered about her home in various states, were her own personal lovers and servants. Cassie was chief among them, the flame girl was simply infatuated with her and Laurien would not have it any other way.
There were various others who had proven their loyalty for her, even before the Queen but that was their little secret.
She let out a pleasant sigh and leaned back as the hot air hit her scantily clad body. "Inaris, bring me more of that juice they call wine, please." she cooed softly to the shimmering green Nebulite. He wasn't the sharpest tool but he did have his uses.
"Right away Laurien." He said nodding. Laurien watched him go, a smirk on her face as she turned to Cassie, who was making out with a tan colored Nebulite she did not know. She cleared her throat and Cassie reluctantly pulled herself away from her companion.
"Yes Laurien?"
"What are the doves singing this morning?" she smiled knowingly.
"Many things my Lady. Unrest is growing, the luxuries offered are not being given, more people are being sacrificed and the stone for the temple is delayed. There's not much else sung this day." Cassie said with a giggle.
Inaris then returned and gave Laurien a large cup. "Thank you Inaris." she said before taking a sip. The news wasn't a large surprise, there were far too many promises to keep after all and it would be her job to fix them. It was always her job. And if she wanted to protect her livelihood, then she would have to do it.
Another Nebulite streaked through the door, wearing nothing but his deep purple skin. "My lady, Hectore is here."
Laurien sighed, of course he was.
The well-groomed hunter seemed to reluctantly enter Laurien’s sanctum. It was evident that he was on a mission from the queen and would have otherwise never set foot here, judging from the way he distanced himself coldly from those around him. Still, he greeted Laurien with a half-bow and said, “Lady Laurien, good day. Her Majesty requests your aid once more.”
Laurien put on her best smile for Hectore and nodded. "And I will gladly answer." she said, rising. She outstretched her hand and Aaldir came, weaving between the Nebulites and surprising a few. "What might be the problem, Queen's Hunter?" she asked.
The hunter sighed. “That would be the quarry workers again. There have been another set of delays. Her Majesty beseeches you to take a section of the guard and see to it that the stoneworkers will not suffer such unfortunate holdbacks again.”
She nodded. "Anything for our Queen. I will go at once." she said, her armor appearing. She turned to Cassie, "See to it that a bath is ready for my return."
Cassie nodded, "Of course my lady."
"Thank you, darling." she then turned to Hectore, her helmet covering her face in an instant. "Shall we?"
“So we shall, my Lady. Please, come with me.” The hunter took off and together with Laurien, they flew down towards the lower tiers.
The city hadn’t even existed for a year and already the lower tiers had accumulated a foul, slum-like stink. The bulk of the Nebulites had been thrown down here, oppressed and kept down by the superior weaponry of the royal guards. The twilight-forged blades and spears of the guards quelled any meagre attempt at rebellion, and of all the professions in the city save for noble, Polyastera made certain to pay her guards the most.
A hundred had assembled before Hectore and Laurien. They were clothed in simple skins of the river crocodiles and armed with twilight-forged batons, white, black and sparkled with the blood of executed rebels. They greeted the two with a sounding “hail!” and awaited their orders. Hectore gave Laurien a nod and said, “We will move swiftly and bring quick justice. The construction of the temple cannot be delayed.”
”Death should be a secondary punishment. Only used at the last resort. We need those workers, and If anyone of you lapses in this, you will take the place of the deceased. Move out.” Laurien commanded.
The company took off into the air and soared as a swarm of bloodthirsty wasps towards the quarries upriver. It took barely an hour to get there, and by the time they arrived, it was evident that they had been spotted. The stoneworkers had lined up at the quarry entrance, anxious and nervous expressions across every face. Some tried to run, but were swiftly gathered up by the others for fear of the group being punished for the individual’s cowardice.
The company landed and the stonemaster, Eclipsion, came scuttling over rubbing his hands nervously.
“G-good day, Lady Laurien, Huntsmaster Hectore - wuh-what brings you here to our humble--” “Silence, Eclipsion, you know why we’re here,” Hectore spat oppressively. The stonecarver faltered instantly.
“W-we… We tried. We really tried, Huntsmaster, but the stone, it’s--... It’s too heavy to move by hand! We, we need more workers!”
Hectore looked at the sorry excuses for blocks of stone that were already worn with damage from being rolled and pushed over rough rock and sanding sand. “Have you tried flying them back?”
“They are much too heavy, Huntsmaster!” Eclipsion insisted. Hectore snarled and looked at the river down the valley. He pointed to it.
“What’s that, Eclipsion?”
“That would be the river, Huntsmaster.”
“Yes. Have you tried using -that- as a means of transportation?”
“B-but… Rocks don’t float, Huntsmaste--”
“Of course, they don’t!” Hectore snapped and grabbed the stonecarver by the collar. “I know rocks don’t float, you imbecile! However, His Lordship’s boat floated on water, even with all of us on it. Try making something similar for the stones.” He released Eclipsion and the crafter gave an anxious, thoughtful hum.
“W-well… It may be possible, uhm… In a week, we could--”
“Three days,” Hectore demanded. The stonecarvers quivered. “Three days, and the stone will be waiting by the river at Laurienna.”
"I will see to it that a solution for the lack of workers is found. We cannot let this project tarry. His Lordship will return, and we must be ready for him. The people of Laurienna are counting on you. On all of you. Do not let them and our Queen down." Laurien said sternly, pacing back and forth.
“We will camp here for the night. Tell us if you require any aid in your mission, my Lady,” Hectore said with a curt bow.
"I require your best scouts and any information on who else inhabits this land of ours." Laurien said proudly.
Hectore frowned in bewilderment at the suggestion, but nodded. “So be it, then. Helio, Urana, Cosmus, Nova, Satur - you heard the Lady. Fall in.” The five scouts lined up behind Laurien dutifully.
She led them a short distance away before turning around. The sun beat down on top of them, but beneath her helmet, she smiled wickedly. "So tell me, in your travels, have you ever run into something that walked on two legs, and wasn't a nebulite?"
All five of them shook their heads. The lady known as Urana said, “No, my Lady - only four-legged beasts and wildlife. That said, we haven’t dared fly too far into the desert.”
She frowned behind her helmet. Disappointing, but nothing that couldn't be dealt with. "It is paramount that you find another race, or any sign of intelligent life besides us. Fly up the river, fly down the river, fast until you find something that can be useful to me. When you do, I shall reward you personally. Now go, for the good of the Empire."
“Yes, my Lady,” the five of them echoed and soared into the sky.
Laurien watched them go. They would either find someone or they wouldn't. For the good of her wellbeing, she hoped they did. They had too.
The temple to Shengshi neared the halfway mark to its completion. Where it sat next to the royal palace, it already stood at its height, and would only continue to grow. The masons had begun to carve the sandstone with intricate patterns, images of stars and the gods, but chief among them, was his Lordship and his benevolence. Outside the temple, the pillars were being constructed in front of the opening. They had realized that no wooden door would ever fit, and thus, a long rock overhang stretched out before it, nearing completion. Inside the temple, there would be a great bust of his Lordship, hands outstretched. The walls would be decorated with pictures of rivers, and other running bodies of water. It would be the jewel of the empire, after all. It had to please.
They had five more years left to complete it, and for once, things were on schedule. With the renewed help that she had promised, production had continued with renewed haste. It had not been long after, that they had found them living like savages in the desert. The giants of flame, who she knew to be from a dark god, now called by the Nebulites, Dari. They were only beginning to understand their language, but the Dari quickly learned the meaning of a sword and the whip. It had not been easy, for they were giants and their children were nimble and quick. Slowly a strategy was born to capture them. Nebulite troops swarmed one of the giants, biting them with their spears until they yielded. The smaller ones, it was just a matter of coercion and threats, which were shared it seemed, through actions.
Soon after the first Dari slaves were brought into the Empire, a market popped up for trading and bartering of these slaves. Small as it was at first, Laurien did not realize how quickly it would grow. There was a demand for the smaller Dari, the ones more suited smaller, every work. They were not the servants, nor did they have any decorum or manners, but they would work, or be forced too. They had a temper in them at first, but after a time, and after the fire cooled in their blood at the threat of water, the Dari were beginning on the path to timidness.
Laurien did not relish what she had to do to ensure her people’s survival, but after a time she became numb to it, or so she thought. Aaldir began to whisper to her, making her want to cause pain. For Aaldir craved more, he craved [i]ichor[/] but the blood of the fallen would suffice. She could resist it, she knew that, but killing became far to easy. It became better when the soldiers learned how to suffice without her, but from time to time, Polyastera still gave her tasks to complete. But Polly was another matter entirely.
The Nebulite woman had grown bored of the Queen. Her once-slim figure had been ruined by stress, food and children - if you could call the little monsters that. Laurien had begun to avoid the queen at all costs, only seeing her in person if she demanded her presence. Even then, her status as a concubine meant she had to… Deal with it. Concubine… No, she was so much more than that.
The pitter patter of small feet and giggles startled her from her fixation on the temple construction. She blinked and turned around to see her two small children playing. Andromeda was the oldest of the two, at four. A girl child of inky black skin, coated with white stars and light red swirls. Her hair started black, but faded to silver at the tips. Silver… She loved the color. Her father had been Satur, one of the scouts that found the Dari. He ventured out on a scouting trip a year ago now, but Laurien knew he would not return. Phoset, her two year old was a boy child of deep purple, almost black. He had no stars upon his small body. His hair was also the same, but glowed softly. Laurien did not know who his father was, not that it mattered anyways.
She loved her children, as any mother would, but they did not stop her from living her lavish style. She provided everything for them, so that they could live good lives, but she would not spoil them. She refused to have her children grow up with everything that they wanted at a beck and call. They would learn to take for themselves what they wanted, and earn it. For now, they could play to their heart's content. She smiled as she watched them, her thoughts flickering to her own sibling. She did wonder how Arya was doing, but knew her sister would be appalled by what she had done here. That was the simple and only, truth.
As Phoset began to hit Andromeda over a simple toy, Laurien watched to see what the girl would do. Would she strike back? There was a moment where her daughter grew frustrated, she could tell, and began to scream, before crying and running over to her. She wrapped her tiny little arms around her right leg and through tears cried, “Momma! Pho took my toy!”
Laurien grabbed Andromeda and placed her in her lap, the small girl snuggled up against her mom as she pouted. ”There there little dove, everything is going to be alright.” “Nuh uh.” came the girls soft reply.
”Yes huh.” Laurien cooed. ”Pho will grow bored soon enough, just you watch. The only reason he wanted it, was because you had it. Now that he has it, he realizes he doesn’t want it at all.” and true to her word, Pho turned his attention to the pair and dropped the toy to run over to Laurien on unsteady feet. He yawned as he placed his hands upon his mother’s legs. With her free arm, Laurien scooped him up and settled him into the crook of her arm and chest.
”You see Andromeda, all we have to do is wait to get what we want.” Laurien said, waiting for an answer, but found none. She looked down to see Andromeda’s eyes fluttering, then over to Phoset, who had already shut his eyes. She found that her children gave her warmth when she needed it most, and it was nice to be wanted by the both of them. They needed her, after all.
”Patience.” Laurien hummed. ”All we need is patience.” she hummed again, watching the distant temple construction as she thought on the future.
Behind the growing temple, the palace stood bathing in the heliopolis. The peak of the pyramid-like construction was host to a vicious cacophony of children’s cries. Hectore’s racoon-ringed eyes looked emptily down at his stone plate of saltpears, sorghum bread and grilled fish. There came another squeal as Polyastera II, the eldest daughter, took a hard grip around the ponytail of her little brother, Omnipotens, and pulled as hard as she could. The little boy kicked and wailed, but the elder sister’s eyes burned with sadistic glee. Under the table, the second daughter, Polyastera III, sat playing with a spilled plate of food.
“... Children, stahp it,” Hectore mumbled to no avail. Omnipotus finally managed to pull himself lose and ran screaming towards the door. Polyastera II, needing something to vent her energy at, scooped a handful of saltpears and threw them after him. Hectore grit his teeth and pointed at the girl. “Young lady, a princess does -NOT- act like that!”
Polyastera II sat down and sneered. “Shut up, dad, if that’s what you are to me.”
Hectore felt a pump of fury course through his body. “What’s it going to take for you to behave, huh?”
“I want a jackalope,” the pink-haired girl said stubbornly.
“Sweety, you know we can’t get you a jacka--”
“I WANT A JACKALOPE! I WANT! I WANT! I WANT!”
The Huntsmaster was at a loss. He merely keeled forward as a new wave of spoiled rage filled the young girl and sent her into a tantrum. As she hammered away at stone plates and food, the doors swung open. There, queen Polyastera I stood in her translucent dress from five years ago - only that it was torn in several places around her legs, waist and chest. She had a slight stagger in her walk and her hair was a mess of knots. A general funk of sweat and alcohol permeated her aura. She made a considerable effort walking over to her seat by the dinner table, ignoring her crying son. Hectore swallowed.
“G-good evening, my queen,” he said as politely as he could. The queen ignored him, too. She sat herself down in her carven wooden chair. It creaked painfully. Soon, a number of servants came with her dinner - the portion twice the size of Hectore’s. She began to dig in.
“What’sh the news for today, Hectore?”
The Huntsmaster squeezed his arms sheepishly. “There was… Another revolt, my queen.”
“I shee,” Polyastera replied through a mouthful of bread. “Has it been dealt with?”
“As per normal procedure,” Hectore whispered dutifully.
“Hold on, dear, I can’t quite hear you-- POLLY, SHUT UP, YOU DISGUSTING BRAT!” Polyastera II shrunk down to a tenth of her size, all trace of her earlier anger vanished before a facade of fear and depression.
“S-sorry, moth--”
“Shut. Up. Now, what did you say, Hectore, my dear?”
The Huntsmaster shivered in much the same manner as the eldest daughter did. “It… It’s been dealt with, my queen.”
“Good, good. I can always rely on you, my love,” the queen replied emptily and stuffed another grotesque amount of food into her mouth. The Huntsmaster felt a gag and stood up. The queen’s eyes fell upon him with a raging fury boiling within. “Where are you going?”
“I, um… I was, uhm…”
“Staying here and having dinner with your queen?” Her eyes flickered like starquakes. Hectore knew he was trapped. He couldn’t just deny the queen her will. Those that did had an uncanny tendency to wind up dead shortly after, and Hectore quite enjoyed being alive despite what he had to endure.
So far, anyway.
The Huntsmaster sat back down and picked up a piece of bread. “Naturally, my queen.”
It was the dawn of the tenth year. The sands of the desert floated lazily on the wind. A week earlier, the final stone had been placed upon the temple roof, and the city had spent the following seven days in tense agony. However, it was finished at last, and the celebration rolled through the city like a crashing wave. The construction had accelerated towards the end thanks to two great fortunes: the increased use of river floats to move the stone from the quarries, as well as the discovery of a rival empire far to the west:
In the sixth year, the scouts of the empire had come upon a number of strange bipeds at the headwaters of the Natal, the new name given to Taipang. These bipeds spoke an odd language and were covered in hair and simple clothing. In truth, initial conclusions had written them off as primitive beasts. However, as they had been encountered more and more frequently, contact had been established. The lingual barrier was hard to breach, but a language spoken by all beings craving the finer things was found: gold.
The hairy bipeds had tons of it, using nuggets and pieces of it as currency. The Nebulites were never told where the strangers got it from, and frankly, the only thing on their mind was acquiring it. Initially, the Nebulites had offered works of stone, giant slaves and low-quality wine as payment for the gold. The strangers, however, were not interested. As they grew more familiar, observations made by the Nebulite emissaries concluded that the Talemonese already had slaves - so many that they needed no more. It was at that point that the queen, who had fallen head over heels for gold, offered an alternative, one that the strangers seemed to enjoy considerably more:
Concubines.
Special institutions were constructed in Laurienna where men and women were trained to be sold as husbands and wives to the queendom’s new trading partner - and the gold flowed into Asteria like the water of the Natal. A literal golden age began, in which Polyastera and her family were praised as bringers of prosperity. During the three years since connection was made with Talemon, the Nebulites were taught ceramics, and from there their ravenous research into the search for beauty led them to accidentally discover goldsmithing. Asterian trinkets and jewelry became a staple product of the civilisation.
However, as time passed, the Talemonese began to close off the stream of gold, instead offering slaves of their own. While this severely upset the nobles, it compensated for a very large problem with the giants. Unlike Nebulites and Pygmies, the giants still had to be captured and forced into slavery, and due to their slow reproduction, there was no hope of breeding enough of them before the ten year deadline was reached.
On the other hand, the Pygmy slaves were not only faster, more agile and much more disciplined, but they could also be bought in bulk. They were produced incredibly fast, so they outpaced any other type of reproduction.
Then came the ninth year. The temple was nearing its completion, but the gold that had once filled the whole city from gutter to palace had been hoarded by either the slaver lords or by the royal family. Initial reactions were those of rage at the lack of luxuries; following that came the slow collapse of business as gold that had become a bit of a standard for the barter economy grew scarcer and scarcer. Several institutions tried to return to the system of three years past where exotic animal carcasses and food were traded for goods, but none of these were in demand anymore. In addition to an overall fall in the supply of exotic animals on the grounds overhunting and overfishing, the hunger of gold drowned out any and all memory of skin and leather-based fine clothing.
Hippo skin tunics? Crocodile armour? That was what the poor wore, after all.
The Natal always provided food, so that was not the issue, necessarily. The issue was that a number of the leaders in the distribution services for food had grown corrupt, and always prioritised their friends and cronies in the royal family or the noble houses. The slaves, no matter whether they were Nebulite, Giant or Pygmy, were left at the bottom of the priority list. To keep their thoughts off mutiny and uprising, their shifts were doubled the final year. This hadn’t worked very well, and rebellions had popped up every now and then anyway. Nevertheless, the project was finished, and as Shengshi came over to inspect his temple, many of the slaves laid dying in the gutters below the temple from wounds or exhaustion. The river god noted the pitiful sight with furrowed brows as his ship landed in the Natal and he disembarked. At the riverbank, an unrecognisable version of the queen did her best to bow. Beside her stood a soulless Hectore, his eyes empty of all hope and joy, the myriad of princes and princesses, and Laurien. Behind them stood a great crowd, as well. The snake slithered up to the Nebulites with an annoyed flame in his eyes.
“Nebulites,” he hissed, “I have come at last to inspect the temple.” He faced a blinking frown down at Polyastera. “Queen Polyastera, I presume?”
“Indeed, Your Holiness,” said the queen and straightened herself back up, making the snake scowl a little. “We, your humble servants, have completed the second task that you asked of us.”
“Wonderful, well done,” the snake replied emptily and placed a much more amiable gaze on Laurien. “Laurien, my dear, how have you been, then?”
She smiled weakly and nodded, "I've been… Doing well, your Holiness."
The snake noted the tone. “That is very nice to hear. If you would like, we could perhaps have a cup of tea on my ship later? Talk about the past?”
"I… I'm afraid I have to decline, your Holiness. I promised my children I'd teach them how to fly… They can be very… Demanding when they want to be." she said with a warm smile.
“Yes, children have a tendency to be…” He glanced over at Polyastera. “Demanding… A shame that we will have to wait with that tea, though - truly is.” He clapped his hands together. “Very well, let me see this temple so you no longer will have to be afraid of my wrath.” The crowd parted as he slithered through, followed by the waddling queen and her little horde of children. Hectore remained staring longingly at the Jiangzhou resting on the river. He slowly turned to Laurien.
“Lady Laurien,” he mumbled hollowly.
She turned to look at Hectore and frowned slightly, "Yes Hectore?"
“... The queen was furious about your abstinence from the quelling of the slave uprisings last week… I… I’m not sure what she’s planning, but--”
“HECTORE!” came a scream from behind them. The Huntsmaster, once the proudest and strongest among the mortal Nebulites, winced and ducked at the noise. He turned to Laurien with empty eyes and whispered, “... I’m so sorry.” He then scuttled off after the queen.
Laurien watched him go, her thoughts abuzz with the news. Worry and panic overtook her. Andromeda and Phoset were home, along with the rest of her lovers and friends. Would Polly take advantage of her absence? Without saying a word, she spun around and took off.
The flight felt like the longest one she had ever taken, worry wracked her heart and drove her faster to get there. When she arrived upon her balcony, the first thing she noticed was the bodies. The sickly sweet aroma of Nebulite blood permeated the area as she landed in the white that coated the floor. Her servants, her concubines, even her slaves were strewn about. Their wounds were gracious and even after that, all their throats were slit.
She ran inside to find much the same, including Cassie, who had been completely mutilated. She only knew it was her, because of the uniqueness of her flame hair. Her favorite lover had been crucified along the central wall, and her arms and legs had been severed. She covered her mouth at the sight and then screamed out for Andromeda and Phoset.
There came no reply as she continued throughout her house, finding bodies everywhere. Some looked like they were fleeing, stabbed in the back and left to die. Her pool had two Nebulites face down, their blood making the water milky white. Her garden was ruined, set aflame and pulled apart. Her things were destroyed or missing and she could not find her children. She began to cry as she fell to her knees in their shared room. Their small beds were thrown about and their toys discarded about the room. She picked up a small rock hippo, it was Phoset's.
She looked at it and realized that her punishment had finally arrived for what she had done so long ago. It had come in the form of betrayal, how fitting, how ironic. Slowly her tears turned to anger and within her palm, the hippo was crushed. Polyastera had done this and she would pay. She would pay dearly. Laurien stood up, and stretched out her hand. It took several moments but Aaldir arrived and when he did they became one. Laurien then shot off towards the palace. More blood would be spilled this night.
She swung Aaldir again, cleaving the final guard in half as a fresh spray of blood coated her. Before her stood the entrance to the throne room and behind her lay fresh corpses of Polyastera's guards. She had run them through easily enough, their lackluster weapons from the forge were no match for a blade of divine origin.
Laurien then pushed through the doors and came face to face with Poly. The queen had a fright in her eyes, but forced a smirk that strained her face to the point where she lost one of her chins.
“Laaaaaurieen, my dear… Finally come as your queen asked.”
"You are no Queen of mine." Laurien said with malice in her voice.
Polyastera sneered. “Evidently, you think so, as you’ve stopped obeying me and my orders whenever I ask you. What happened, Laurien? How did life without me corrupt you so?”
Laurien began to laugh mockingly. "Did you really think I was the one that needed you?”
“Pfft, of course not, you stupid wench. I know damn well what you’ve meant to me and this queendom, but you have forgotten who is in charge here.” Polyastera rose up with some effort and another horde of guards came out from the sidelines and surrounded Laurien with star-forged spears. “I am the QUEEN, Laurien! And when I command you to destroy those who oppose me, you do it without question!” She snapped her fingers and another pair of guards came out of the dark behind her. They each held daggers in one hand, and in the other, they each clutched one of Laurien’s children. The daggers were placed at their throats. “Is that clear?” Polyastera finished.
She looked to her children, their pleading eyes stained with tears. The grip upon her sword tightened as she looked to Polyastera again."That's the problem then… I realize now that I should have never let you be Queen, you fat hippo. You just had to ruin yourself with drink and food and your little monsters that you call children. You are pathetic and have forgotten your place, Polyastera. Mortal."
Polyastera gasped. “Hectore, do you think I’m fat?!”
The beaten husk of a man stepped forth from behind Polyastera’s stone throne. He shook his head slowly and said, “No, my queen… You are as perfect as ever…” His voice was frighteningly mechanic.
Polyastera smirked. “Thank you, dear. I love it so when you compliment me. As for you…” She glared at Laurien. “I may be mortal, dear, but don’t be so cocky as to forget that you are, too! Guards! Bring me her head!”
The spear-wielding warriors lunged as one. Only to be met by a rage fueled Laurien, who proceeded to attack first at a frightening level of speed. Indeed, the warrior pushed herself unlike ever before and this was the doom of the guards. Their spears glanced off her armor as a few hit her and then with a quick flurry of strikes she decapitated three guards and before one spear could hit the floor, Laurien grabbed it and flung it at the Nebulite holding Andromeda hostage. It hit him in the head and went straight through, allowing her daughter to escape his knife as he slumped to the floor.
The guards began to scream as she grabbed another spear and chucked it at the one holding Photet. Unlike before, the spear hit him in his shoulder, soliciting a howl of pain as he stumbled backwards. Photet broke free and ran to his sister. The two children then watched as their mother made quick work of the rest of the guards, their blood staining the sandstone floors as they fell one by one. She was brutal in her work and when the last guard stopped screaming, the blood soaked visor of Laurien turned to Polly once again and began to advance.
The queen began to whimper and screamed, "Hectore! Do something!"
Like a machine, the Huntsmaster sprung to life, took his spear and flew at Laurien with a flurry of thrusts.
Laurien narrowly dodged to the side, using Hectore's reckless speed to her advantage, and attempted to cut him in half at his waist as he went by. However, with an incredible twist of the body, the Hunter managed to turn his forward momentum into a sharp upward turn. From up there, he dropped down with his spear thrust forward in an impaling strike.
Laurien flew backwards at the sight, Hectore's spear just scratching her armor as the spear flew down. Laurien then tried to use her blade to push the spear away from the front of Hectore so she could get in close. The hunter instead let her forward momentum carry the spear a distance away, side-stepped and placed a flat-palm strike at the side of her helmet.
Laurien growled as she renewed her asphalt in earnest. The armored figure then slashes her sword at Hectore in a flurry of offensive strikes. The hunter stepped out of the way deftly and resumed his stance. Behind him, Polyastera screamed, “KILL HER, YOU IMBECILE!” The warrior seemed to deflate, looking at Laurien with hollow eyes.
Laurien recognized that Hectore was already defeated and broken shell of his former self. She'd be doing him a mercy. She positioned her blade so that the tip pointed at him and then lunged, aiming for his heart. The sword pierced true and the hunter dropped his spear to the ground. With his dying breath, he whispered, “At last…” and gave Laurien a weak smile. He then slumped to the ground to join his dead colleagues.
Laurien's helmet then disappeared to reveal a gaze ripe with anger as she approached Polyastera.
The queen began to squirm to her feet, but slipped in the blood that was caking her floor and fell over. She looked up at Laurien with dazed eyes and said, "Killing me will--... You… You will ruin this queendom. I. Am. Asteria."
"You are a failure, nothing more, nothing less. I will remove your stain from this Empire and it will grow without your blight and corruption holding it back. Your children will be sold as concubines and slaves or be fed to the Natal. Your loyalists will be purged and destroyed and when this is all said and done… I will find a new ruler, one far younger and beautiful to rule in your stead and you, my dear Polly, will be forgotten." Laurien said with wickedness before falling to her knees on top of her.
Polyastera coughed under her weight and lied staring wide eyed. "No… This cannot be how I die. Not me. Not Polyastera!" She stretched as far as she could towards a nearby blade.
Without saying a word, Laurien put her gauntleted hands around Poly's throat and squeezed as hard as she could. The queen tried to pull the hand away, but it was utterly futile. Her weak hands could barely get a grip around them. As she felt the bones in her neck crack, she whispered, "L-Laurien… Please…"
Laurien paid her no mind as she stared down at her. Polly was a monster and needed to be absolutely destroyed. She no longer desired her, nor did anyone else. Aaldir whispered more into her mind and she knew she wanted to kill Poly. For she had overstepped and needed the final punishment of life. Death.
The queen coughed her last breath before the corpse went limp. There was silence. After she was sure Polly was dead, Laurien let out a loud breath and let go. The sudden exhaustion hit her like a wave but she had other priorities. Before even standing up she turned around to see her children cowering behind a pillar, their eyes were huge and frightened beyond belief. She made her way over to them, her armor disappearing and the sword floating near her. As she got close, Andromeda pulled Phoset closer to her. They were both shaking and Laurien could tell they were in shock.
She got onto her knees and opened her arms. "Andromeda… Phoset… Come here." she pleaded. They both shied away when she spoke but she saw Phoset's eyes. They were scared of her. And in that moment, Laurien realized just how scarred for life they would be and how much she hated herself for putting them through it. No… Poly put them through it… Laurien began to cry, her arms dropping as she looked to the floor. The moment their mother began to cry, the children hesitantly went over to her and Laurien looked up, embracing the both of them. They began to sob into her arms, the shock over as they let it all out.
“Mommy?” came another voice, a slightly squeakier version of the one Laurien already had ended. Laurien looked away from her children for a moment to see Polyastera II, Omnipotens, Polyastera III, IV and Omnipotens II, all six standing by the throne displaying varying levels of understanding of the situation. Omnipotens and Polyasteras III and IV all burst into loud crying, Omnipotens II looked curiously and concerned at this funny, bright ichor splattered all over the floor, and Polyastera II glared sobbing daggers at Laurien. “You… You killed my MOMMY!” she screamed and trampled in the blood on the floor. “YOU KILLED MOMMY! YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED HEEEEEER!”
She turned her head to Andromeda. ”Take your brother outside, Andromeda.” she said sternly, the girl did not want to let go, but reluctantly did so. She took Phoset’s hand, the little boy crying out for Laurien as they left. The tall woman stood up and flew over to the children before they could react. She looked down at them with disgust, before slapping Polyastera II across her face. ”Quiet your tongue, or I will feed you to the Natal.” she said with disgust. All of them immediately quieted down. It would seem that they were used to this treatment and knew very much how to correctly respond to avoid it.
“Auntie Laurien?” Omnipotens asked, stifling a sob.
”Yes Omni?” Laurien said, looking at the boy.
“.. What… What will you do to us?”
She gave him and the others a fake smile, ”I won’t do anything to you, my dears.” she lied.
“...Oh,” Omnipotens said hollowly and looked over at Polyastera’s corpse. “... Why did you kill mommy?”
”Kill her? No, no no my dear ones. I tried to save her from Hectore, but it was too late when I arrived. He tried to attempt a coup and now… One of you must take the throne.” she said coldly.
The children’s expressions betrayed varying levels of understanding once more. “I’ll take it!” Polyastera II asserted stubbornly. “I’m oldest, so it passes to ME!” The others didn’t look too keen on protesting.
”Yes, yes. But for now, this is no place for children. Go back to your rooms and when the time is right, I shall call for you.” Laurien said.
“You better, dear,” the oldest daughter snapped and set off towards her room. As the other children bumbled after, Omnipotens remained to say, “Sorry about her… She’s like that,” before walking off, too.
Laurien crossed her arms and watched the children scamper off. She already knew which one would be on the throne and it would not be Polyastera II. Though she would feel bad for a time, it would be necessary, in the end. Whatever it takes, for her and her children’s survival.
With that done, she walked outside and found Andromeda and Phoset waiting patiently. She patted their heads and then went down to their level. ”Now… You have to promise mommy that you’ll keep what you saw in there a secret, okay? No one can know… Or they might take me away from you. Do you understand?” she said with concern in her voice.
Andromeda nodded and eventually, Phoset did too. “But mommy, what about our cousins? Don’t they know too?” Phoset asked.
Laurien smiled. ”Don’t worry about them, my loves. They are going to go away for a long time, for their safety. Only the littlest ones will remain. Now come on, I did say I was going to teach you how to fly, didn’t I?”
Events transpired quickly after that fateful day. The blood was cleaned, the bodies discarded, and many things were swept under the rug. What was not, was the only truth anyone needed to hear: Rebels masquerading as loyalists slew Polyastera and all of her children save two. Omnipotens III and Polyastera V were the only survivors, and Omnipotens III was crowned king of Asteria at the ripe age of three. Laurien would be his advisor, as well as a slew of other Nobles vying for control. All of Asteria was called upon to unite and end the threat of the rebels to secure their beloved Queen’s legacy.
Unofficially, Laurien was in complete control of the young king. True to her word, she had done away with Poly’s old loyalists. Titanon, Phillia, Pallason and the rest were stripped of their homes, wealth and resources and then murdered for ‘treason’. Though a few did manage to escape or weren't found. The rest of the nobility and slave lords were fed their wealth to placate them, but some gold and other items went to the poor as a means of good faith. As for Polly’s other six children, they were secretly sold to slavers, and then sent off to the Talemonese. With any luck, they would not be seen, or heard from again.
A new age was beginning in Asteria, and this time, Laurien would be the one to lead it. Indirectly of course, for that was what she desired. And this time, she would not let anyone get in her way.
We open the post to Polly taking complaints from the populus, only seven or eight months after the founding of Asteria. Those that disagree with her are taken to the Forge to be sacrificed. It's a rough gig. Then we switch to Laurien and she's living nicely away from all the politics, but still knows what's going on because she has spies.
Eventually the Jotundar are forced into slavery as a means to speed up production on the temple. Laurien grows numb to it and aaldir begins to corrupt her.
We skip again to see Laurien with her two children and Poly with like six and shea gained a lot of weight and going mad. Hectore is losing it too. I might have forgotten some things here but eh.
Then we skip again and we find out that Asteria made contact with the Talemonese empire and established trade through concubines and gold and they learned some things along the way or something. Year ten arrives and we find that Polly is fat as a hippo and the temple is done. Shengshi Shows up and hates the place doesn't do anything else.
Then we find out that Polly is batshit insane and got every one of Lauriens servants and lovers murdered and they crucified Cassie and stole her children. Laurien then goes to the palace and Polly berates her for being a bad servant and threatens her kids. Laurien then murders them all after fighting hard.
Her own kids are scared for life, then polly's come and Laurien has to calm them down and tell them that Hectore killed her. She then fabricates the story that Poly's loyalists sought to overthrow her and she could only save her youngest children. Laurien then orders all of them purged and their wealth stripped. She then sends the rest of the children to the Talemonese as slaves. Out of sight out of mind.
In the end Laurien puta Omnipotens the Thies on the throne and basically is going to use him as a puppet. Yippie.
Laurien; +8 Prestige Starting +1 Prestige for Minor Role +1 Prestige for Major Role +1 Prestige for Jolly Collaboration -2 Prestige to Claim the Title “Lady of Laurienna” -1 Prestige to Push her limits when in the Palace -2 Prestige to Claim the Title “Warrior” = +6 Prestige Ending
At the sound of spring’s rebirth in the city, Anu, King of Talemon pushed aside the stack of reports he had been sifting through and glanced towards one of the south-facing grate windows occupying a wall of his office.
This day, a handful from the late planting season, saw the young divine casual in a light wrap of fine boars hides, just managing to cover most of his massive torso. As his bright gold eyes scanned the clear skies visible through the window, he absently ran a hand down one of his locs, long cylinders of ivory hair palm-rolled and held in place by bands of dry clay. Two about the size of a river snake lay dangling upon his chest. ‘Final hours before noon already,' he mused. 'And here I am, pouring over reports from the rice paddies.'
In spite of the grave, self-deprecating tone employed by Zhu Rongyuan in his reports, the overall state of the rice crops seemed to immensely outperform that of last year. They were merely approaching the middle of the flood seasons and already the crops stretched tall out of the paddies. The most optimistic estimates offered the possibility of a second, additional planting and harvesting season, an outcome that could secure them food safety to sustain unprecedented population growth - provided there came no unforeseen interruptions.
‘Unforeseen interruptions.’ the big king weighed. With mid-spring sunshine pouring into his southern windows, the ideas of unforeseen occurrences where far from his mind. One could not simultaneously prepare for and prevent the unknown.
Chains clinking softly, Anu rolled his heavy shoulders, undoing the knots in his divine body.
”Summon Zhu to me.” he order without looking .
A leaf-bearing pygmy obliged and left the room.
Heaving a quiet breath the demigod lowered himself into his chair and raised thin parchment to the sunlight. With Talemon sustained by rice grain, he could turn his eye elsewhere, strengthening his nation one step at a time.
A quick moment passed and soon, Zhu Rongyuan approached with an inclined head, lowered himself to his knees and prostrated himself before the great ape. “This servant has been summoned by its King. How may it serve?”
”Cherished Zhu, I assume you are doing fine this afternoon?” he began, setting down the sun-kissed report. ”I commend you for you work on the rice paddy project, with your industriousness, Talemon grows.”
The servant dipped his head a little lower, as if that was physically possible. “This servant is unworthy of His Majesty’s praise - it is sworn to see His Majesty’s land prosper, and in time, it shall.” There came a sigh. “His Majesty has no doubt taken note of this servant’s failure as reported.”
Anu answered without looking up, instead shifting through parchment until a number had been separated from the rest. ”The…..Abegunde incident I presume?”
“The very same,” Zhu confirmed shamefully. “The source of the issue is still a mystery. This servant has yet to return to the farm - additional time will be required before the source is found.”
“A lead that strengthens Talemon is a lead worth pursuing endlessly, Zhu. We are Talemonese, failure is only an example to learn from, don’t sully our name by wallowing in shame. We are better than that.” he deadpanned nonchalantly.
The statesman swallowed. “A-at once, Your Majesty.” He sat up into a seiza position, head still inclined. “Moving onto a different subject now that this servant is honoured by His Majesty’s attention, a new system of production centralisation has been drafted. This servant will proceed to read them to You if it may.”
The great ape affirmed with a shift of focus, dropping the Abegunde reports and leveling an expectant gaze at Zhu. The statesman extracted a dry, rolled up boarskin scroll from the fold of his robe and unfurled it slowly as to not damage it. He cleared his throat and began to read aloud the Shengshese logographs written upon the skin in the dry juice of various berries and insects in place of proper stone ink.
“At the request of His Majesty Anu, a survey has been conducted with the intention of pinpointing areas of improvement on the mission to achieve the greatest effectiveness in production. The survey has been conducted by His Majesty’s humble statesmen at the Talemonian Granary Office under the leadership of Zhu Rongyuan and his assistants, M’benge and Idogbe.” The servant’s eyes simulated old age, and in the same manner, he squinted towards the king and inclined his head with a gentle wince at bone aches that didn’t truly exist. “Would His Majesty prefer a summary of these servants’ findings?”
”Please.”
Zhu nodded. “To summarise, these servants found that the current system of private ownership of each farm offers little to the state as a whole. When each farm is tended to by one family without a proper surveillance and leadership structure, it can be difficult to mobilise the farmers to work the fields more than what is necessary to sustain themselves. Furthermore, due to the size of the plot of land required to sustain paddies, allowing every family their own plot would in time exhaust the amount of land we have along the banks of Beihe.” Zhu raised a finger. “Therefore, these servants have reached the conclusion that all food production should be nationalised by His Majesty’s state and managed by a subsection of His Majesty’s court. In order to avoid corruption, as per His Lordship’s teachings about the temptations of mortals, the title should not be hereditary - even though this conflicts with His Lordship’s teachings on the values of parental teachings in political positions. These servants believe this contradiction of teachings to be moot in comparison to what a properly managed agricultural sector could provide.”
”Praise worthy, Zhu. As I respect my father and his sacred teachings I dare not speak ill of it, but a hereditary system stands heavily against the ideas upon which I wish to build Talemon.” Anu acknowledged, not for a moment taking his eyes off Zhu’s face.
”See to the implementation of the bureaucratic entities required and find and train ones worthy of the positions. Have any of the finer details been hammered out? Like workers compensation?.”
“Naturally, Your Majesty - with a worker base under close monitoring, the foremen can more easily pick out outstanding labourers. Such exceptional individuals will be given additional ration plaques for their hard work, thus providing their families with safety in terms of food. The farmers shall not go wanting for the days of their own farms. In regards to the foremen themselves, they shall undergo intensive screening and tests to assure that they are incorruptible. All the grain their workers harvest will go to the Granary and be distributed from there. Any and all deviations from this prerogative will be met with the punishment of death.”
”Good, reward the talent and hardwork of the exceptional. I also assume this would require the implementation of ration plaques on a grand scale. How are we establishing their rates?”
“Using our current system, one plaque offers enough grain for a quarter year per individual. This will have to be drastically reduced - likely down to weekly rations. The state will ensure that enough of these plaques are made so that each citizen potentially may receive two per week. This method of production shall be maintained as long as the state can accurately monitor the number of births in our nation.”
”Set up an office responsible for administering an official census and keeping records of such nature as soon as possible.”
“Certainly, Your Majesty,” Zhu replied. “Are there any other matters His Majesty wishes to discuss?”
A pause filled the room as Anu rapped his fingers against the smooth wood of his desk table. The thought seemed to escape him.
”Ah! The domestication of the plains boars I proposed earlier. Any update?”
Zhu nodded slowly. “Ah, yes… Once more, this servant can only bring news of a disappointing nature - while the swine responded kindly to the rice we offered them, they seem unwilling to remain in the pens we’ve made. On numerous occasions have there been escapes and lost pigs running through the camps. Most of these sadly are never caught again. The pens are being reinforced as we speak, but much of the clay deposits are reserved either for house construction or emptying. Resource gathering operations will need to expand before we can tame boars on any large scale.”
”A slow going effort then. Keep me updated on that projects progress.” he added. ”I believe that to be all.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. Further reports will arrive post-haste.” The servant kowtowed again, rose and walked backwards out the room while continuously bowing to Anu.
Anu let out a silent sigh as he lifted his eyes back to the window. Heliopolis had traveled further into the sky, the bright city taking with it it’s life giving light and allowing the Night-Mother to invade its territory. He’d spent the bulk of his day handling the affairs of state and governing as a king should, he’d spend the rest doing the same.
In one swift motion the massive ape rose from his seat and padded towards the portal, pygmy guards quick to fall in step with their mighty king. Just as he was about to exit the palace, however, a panting pair of guards came running over. They fell to their knees, their momentum sliding them onwards in the humid dirt.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” they called. “A great beast is approaching from the jungle!”
Slits of golden fire blazed like the surface of Heliopolis in the evening light, the giant war-king seething at the sight.
Clarification was not needed. As the guards had foretold, an absolutely massive shadow stretched several hundred metres into the sky, cragly, biological curves and dents on the bottom giving way to structure contours and semblances of great towers and buildings. From Talemon’s streets, it was unclear what exactly the beast was, but what was clear was that it was approaching the city.
”Gather the warband!” Anu snapped at his guard without looking. It was like a snarl of thunder from a storm-filled sky, abrupt and bold. Any semblance of coherence was lost to the pygmy, but stunned they were into sprinting off by virtue of the immediate end they were likely to face otherwise.
With steps befitting a divine on a mission, Anu marched through the streets, his very presence enough to send his citizens cowering for cover, albeit the beasts presence only served to aid this. In a matter of moments Talemonese warriors feel in-step with him, even of the best of the best shaken by colossal shadow, but were visibly awed and shook by the visage of their king.
On his face was an expression of grim determination screwed by vestiges of unadulterated rage that threatens to further crack his emotionless mask. He was a bulwark to the tidal wave of panic and fear that washed through the city, a white tower in the night. Regardless of the pygmies strength, they would prove themselves this night.
The great monster’s shadow covered the whole of Talemon - even the white spires of Tal Eren turned a pallid gray before it. The monster seemed to stop some distance away from the magical barrier of the mansa, but it didn’t seem as though the barrier was the reason. It stood glaring down at the warriors with its one, crystal blue eye. Atop its head, a number of specks unobservable to mortals seemed to look down at the pygmy warbands and Anu, as well.
With divine eyes though, the ape easily could make out the oblong shapes. They appeared pale, bilateral like the pygmies, though hairless save for mainly strands running down along their heads, some running over the shoulders. From what the great ape could see, their numbers were few, and the bulk of them seemed to be quite young. Their clothing struck an uncanny resemblance to those of his councillors.
A small gesture ushered a warrior into a kneel by his side; Lang’engatshoni, a wiry thin but exemplary soldier.
“Your Majesty.”
”Gather up a company and welcome our visitors.” he rumbled, eyes not leaving the hairless apes.
“With haste, my king!” the warrior barked, quickly jumping to his feet and gathering those he deemed capable from the King’s warband. Within moments a cadre numbering only a humble nine picked their way through their city towards the giant turtle.
Lang’engatshoni and his warriors hadn’t reached all the way over before four of the hairless apes entered their view. They walked carefully through the grass as though it was their first time setting their feet on this soil. The four of them were rather different in appearance:
The tallest among them appeared to be male - aged, black down adorning his upper lip and chin with black hair uniting in a bun atop his head. His left eye had a large blue circle around it. He wore crimson, cumbersome robes, much in the same way the councillors did. He was flanked on the left by a lady of seemingly equal age, this one, too, dressed in beautiful, yet impractical robes. Her hair was alabaster, and in her hands she held what looked like a wooden fish. Next to her stood a younger looking man in black robes with trims of white, matching his long straight flood of alabaster hair and cascading beard, and finally next to him was clearly the youngest and shortest. She wore tight fitting clothes that seemed useful for manual labour and moving around, on her golden speckled face she wore a stern look, and on her hip she wore a long curved blade of earthen color. The oldest man said something in an unintelligible tongue, looking at the pygmies in what seemed to be an expectant manner.
The Pygmy shifted awkwardly, looking amongst themselves with what could only be described as confusion. Their chagrin was frustratingly familiar yet so unrecognizable.
Lang stepped forward and kowtowed in the way one did greeting his elder. “Talemon welcomes you.”
The four seemed utterly surprised by the act, and the elder lady seemed to tell the others something. She then stepped forward a bit and offered the kowtowing Lang the wooden fish in her hands.
Slowly the ape rose and trepidatiously accepted the thing, unsure of what the fish meant. Murmuring confusedly under his breath, he turned it every which way he could. The craftsmanship was breathtaking, unlike anything he had ever laid eyes on, even rivaling the skills of his toolmaker brother, Ogundairo.
“Ah ah, what is this?” he puzzled aloud, moving to bring the fish closer to his face.
The elder lady said something and the fish uttered, “Howdy, y’all. Please, don’t be frightened of lil’ ol’ me. I’m just a translator. Oh, and the lady says hi.”
Shifting slightly, Lang brought the now talking Woden fish far from his face, not so much startled as much as he was perplexed.
“You speak?”
"Sure do, mister. I'm the Babble Fish - folks babble 'n I make sense of it. Oh, speakin' of, the old gentleman in the fancy dress's sayin’ his name is Wenbo and that he represents the Dreamer race. They come in peace."
The warrior-ape cast a cursory glance at the one called Wenbo, if garb was an indicator of anything, he certainly looked the part.
“Ah, I am Lang’engatshoni, son of Adedayo and warrior of the King’s Warband. We welcome you to Talemon.”
He glanced at the alabaster haired woman and nodded.
“And hi.”
The fish clicked his tongue. “Oh, right - forgot to tell ya. They don’t understand you, sir. I know it’s a bit inconvenient, but could I ask ya to hand me back to the lady?”
Lang glanced at the cadre of Pygmy at his back, all who seemed similarly lost. With expression neutral he handed the fish back towards the lady. The lady graciously accepted it, though it was evident that they, too, thought this process was a little cumbersome. The four looked down at the fish for a moment before relieved smiles spread across their faces. The lady offered the fish back. A tiring Lang received it and the lady began to speak.
“Howdy again!” the Babble Fish said cheerfully. “The lady’s saying they’re all overjoyed to meet ya and to be welcomed. She’s now askin’ if it’s possible to see this King of yours - y’see, these folks are new in the country ‘n are eagerly lookin’ for new friends.”
With a click of his tongue, the company of Pygmy dissolved into the city. “We send for him immediately.” he husked, and gave the thing back a final time.
The Dreamers seemed very content at the answer and proceeded to wait expectantly. The lady produced some small glazed clay disks from a wicker pack the shortest girl had brought along. They was beautifully patterned with various shades of brown and beige and were just deep enough to possibly function as small bowls.
Within meer moments the massive silhouette of the great ape came into view, shadowed by the company of Pygmy. A distinct rattling could be heard from a distance, and as the regal divine finally came to a stop a few get away from the envoy, it was clear that the chain looped around his mighty forearm was the culprit.
Rivers of intense gold bared down upon the Dreamers, although there was no aggression in his posture, he had been filled in on the way.
”I am King Anu, son of Shengshi and Narzhak and lord over Talemon.” he began, all Pygmy fell to their knees at the sound of his voice. ”I was made aware that you were a fledgling nation out looking for friendship.”
The Dreamers collectively blinked. “Son of Shengshi?” the one known as Wenbo went. Then all four of them fell to their knees before Anu. “Your Holiness, it is a most profound honour to meet you. I am Wenbo, leader of the Dreamers and patriarch of the Wen clan.” He looked up and gestured to the three others. “This is my wife, Ai, the Lady of Mengcheng; Zhong Wang, the headmaster of the Hermian Academy; and Zhong Ming, general of the City Wardens. As you said, Your Holiness, we come in search of friends, and bring with us a gift of craftsmanship for this people’s great leader.”
Ai held forth the collection of clay plates. There were ten in total, and their patterns differed slightly upon closer inspection - the difference appeared intentional rather than accidental. “We hope His Holiness finds this work to be an acceptable gift.”
Anu took the plates and held them aloft, studying them for a moment before nodding and handing them to a Pygmy who cautiously took hold of the things. ”Remarkable work, to have skills like these would be of great use to Talemon.” he said, offhandedly adding the second half for his own mental notes and gesturing for them to rise. ”I see you know of my father.” he paused, then blew the air out of his nose. ”The beast smells of him and faintly of the fires to the east, the other scents I fail to recognize. I take it he blessed you.”
"In more ways than one," Zhong Wang spoke with a tip of his head, "We the dreamers are descendents of His Lordship Shengshi's own divine fragment, Elder Mother Xiaoli -- and descended as well from the love of the great God, K'nell, his Hermes. His Lordship Shengshi has seen our fragment of the Dreamer population and blessed us further, granting us this divine beast as our new home upon this land."
”It’s just like him to do such things. Well, Dreamers, if he has deemed you worthy of such kindness, then I too shall count you worthy of my respect.” He made a small motion and a Pygmy farthest from him dissolved into the city. ”I’ve summoned my council, I’d like to get down to business.”
“O-oh! Certainly,” Wenbo said cheerfully. “If I may be so rude as to ask, what are these people Your Holiness rules? Forgive me, but our kind has never seen their likeness before.”
”Pygmies, children I created to tame the wildness of this world. They will sire a world empire.”
Wenbo nodded. “They look well fed and powerful, Your Holiness - such an ambition should be most possible.”
”Of course, Lord Wenbo. Could I expect your support or would leave me high and dry?” he chagrined, his laugh like crashing waves.
Wenbo joined in with a warm chuckle. “While we have no such great aspirations as a world-spanning empire, our God and our Lord both advocate for the sharing of gifts. For example, if I am not mistaken, Your Holiness implied earlier that the great city of Talemon is unfamiliar with claycraft. Is this true?”
[color=MistyRose]”Indeed.”[color] he said curtly, inwardly noting the deviation from his original question. ”Our councilmen can attest to that.” he introduced as the regal forms of his statesmen approached. They walked shoulder to shoulder, their four facades radically different in stature, clothing and posture: Zhu Rongyuan, dressed in black robes worn with wear, walked with a craned back to indicate his simulated age; Qiang Quan, dressed in a worn white gi with a pair of straight kali sticks on his belt, had a chestful of pride in his stride, his back straight as an arrow; Fu Lai’an, though clad in an ageing red silk dress nonetheless gaited cheerfully alongside her colleagues, an improvised leaf fan in her hand; Yong Cai, dressed in overworked linen pants and shirt, kept a hand on the head of the trusty hammer at her hip. They stepped over to their King’s side, kowtowed before the Dreamers and stood back up.
“Judging from what we’ve heard, we trust the esteemed guests are familiar with Shengshese?” Zhu Rongyuan offered politely.
“With a bit of an accent, perhaps--” Ai began before she noticed Fu Lai’an struggled to hold back a giggle. Qiang Quan shot his colleague a quick glare and the musician stifled the laugh. Zhu put his hands together and smiled.
“Now, now, friend - it may just as well be us; for fifty years, these four servants have sworn allegiance to His Majesty, Anu, with the mission of crowning Him as king of the world and forge a realm of prosperity. However, due to our distance from the holy Jiangzhou, there’s a possibility that these servants have adopted some Talemonese linguistic traits. Forgive them if their words turn to soup to the ear.”
“Nothing to forgive,” Ai assured and gave the quietly snickering Fu Lai’an an uncertain frown.
Zhu clapped his hands. “Fantastic. Then allow these ones to introduce themselves and we will proceed to His Majesty’s palace with His permission.” He gave Anu a respectful nod. “This one is named Zhu Rongyuan, His Majesty’s minister of state and agriculture; this one is Qiang Quan, His Majesty’s warleader and commander of the Talemonese forces; this one Fu Lai’an, His Majesty’s minister of culture and arts - a cheerful soul, as you’ve noticed; and lastly, Yong Cai, His Majesty’s master architect.”
The Dreamers bowed again. “A great pleasure,” Wenbo stated.
A sharp clap filled the air. ”Well then, with that out of the way, let us get down to business. Might I offer you shelter within my palace?”
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Wenbo said graciously and followed the demigod and his councillors to the palace along with the three other Dreamers.
The inside of the palace was dim and cool, as opposed to the mighty shine of Heliopolis outside, but it was far from dark. The bulk of the palace was in reality a great roof carried on hundreds of mighty ivory pillars, making the closed off inner sanctum the only real ‘room’ in the building. In there, pygmy servants had brought a grilled boar, boiled rice and vegetable and flower salads. The councillors took their places on the floor at the flanks of their king. The Dreamers stood and marveled at the majestic interior of the ivory palace - the king’s personal chambres had beautiful carvings on the walls and roof.
” Please, make yourselves comfortable, venerated of Shengshi.” he offered gesturing towards their seats. The Dreamers snapped out of their trances, nodded and sat themselves down with varying speed.
The great ape shifted forward, golden disks eyeing them expectantly. ”Let us begin then. To get straight to the point, you came bearing gifts and the intention of founding a friendship. From what I’ve seen, we’d be quite foolish to refuse.”
"Certainly, Your Holiness. We know next to nothing about this land or the rest of the world, and figure finding friends is of the highest priority. In return for an equal sentiment, we are more than willing to offer our knowledge of crafts, agriculture and animal husbandry," Wenbo said with a wide smile.
”A trade of goods and ideas?” He glanced at his council. ”What say you?”
Zhu Rongyuan nodded. “It is evident that this man has the blood of His Lordship, Your Majesty. In His Majesty’s words, we would be foolish not to accept.” The three others nodded along, especially a very eager Yong Cai.
”Then I believe we are in agreement, Wenbo. The establishment of beneficial trade between Talemon and Mengcheng.” he announced, lips curling.
“Fantastic!” the dreamer celebrated. “Such a joy when friends come to agreement so quickly. Though forgive me, may we be so rude as to ask for a little something in return? His Holiness understands, my people number few, and while we have the knowledge to explore all manner of scientific and industrial horizons, we lack the manpower to harvest the goods of the land for our endeavours. Would it be possible if the mighty Pygmy race could help us gather clay, wood, crops and animals for our city? Naturally, both they and Your Holiness’ realm will be generously compensated for the work.”
Ming seemed to steal a glance at Wenbo, an inkling of surprise in her eyes before looking back towards the council, mind now clearly abuzz.
Anu remained expressionless, though his voice betrayed a jovial tone. ”Surely you traveled far, how did you manage to arrive here with numbers low and store house needing supplies without a stop or two?”
“As His Holiness noted earlier, we have the fortune of His Lordship’s blessing. Our city came will larders full, but the workhouses and storage facilities for industrial goods were empty. We have made stops and gathered what we can, but…” He pursed his lips. “We could achieve more - together.”
“We do not wish to be a burden, though,” Ai assured in an almost interrupting manner to her husband.
"If I may?" Zhong Wang folded his hands.
Wenbo furrowed his brow momentarily and looked to Anu. (ape nods or something)
"I suggest to our two Lords here that should such a deal be struck, the city of the Dreamers acquires no more than thirty new workers. Forgive my openness, My Lord, but we do not have the ability to promise compensation nor security for any more than half our current population, nor would it be in our morals to have our hosts offer to do more work than ourselves, in citation of the words of Chagatai's principles of leadership," Zhong Wang folded his hands back into his lap, "I'm sure our general would be able to validate my concerns?"
Ming looked at Wenbo. The dreamer lord looked a little deflated, but motioned for her to speak.
"Master Zhong Wang is correct, too large an influx of new workers would strain our current security and medical logistics," She bowed her head.
Wenbo gave them both frowns, but his wife nodded along with their words. “Furthermore, I reckon my husband meant for it to be a temporary arrangement - a mission to resupply, if you will. A workforce numbering thirty or fewer will strain neither our capacity to ensure their health and safety nor His Holiness’ own projects and processes.”
Zhu Rongyuan hummed and pursed his lips. “Given that the planting season is nearing its end, we have a higher number than usual of available workers - however, if we are to expand our own industrial sectors with our esteemed guests’ knowledge, then we cannot afford to offer too many.” He raised two fingers. “I propose that we send twenty.”
”Mind you, while clay and wood are resources aplenty–although the latter my council may correct me on if otherwise–crops are not. Am I to assume you request the lot of our fields? Or does the beast carry farmland too?” he surmised.
Wenbo cleared his throat to reassert his role as representative and nodded. “Chuanwang carries enough farmland to sustain our people, Your Holiness, so there will be no need to worry about that. It is merely construction and craft resources we ask for.”
”And you find twenty workers agreeable?”
Wenbo nodded. “That will already be of immense aid, great king.”
”Then it will be done. And in return I am to assume boon?”
Wenbo looked to his followers. “The knowledge of claycraft as well as a selection of the items we make?”
“Sounds fair and just to me, Lord Wenbo,” Zhong Wang tipped his head, Ming following with a bow of her own.
The giant king turned towards his council. ”And what say you?”
“What manner of items, if this servant may ask?” Fu Lai’an inquired. Ai tapped her chin.
“Various plates, pots and disks, if it pleases?” she answered and gave her companions a look. The servant shot a glance at Zhong Ming’s hip.
“This servant couldn’t help but notice that glazed sheen on the lady general’s waist. Pray tell, is that a weapon?”
Ming looked at Wenbo, who returned a slightly disappointed nod. “Go on.”
“It is a weapon,” Ming tipped her head, “Merely meant for the defense of our people.”
“A weapon?” Qiang Quan interjected with a raised brow. “What manner of weapon? A dagger?”
“A long knife, as made by our Elder Mother Hermes,” Ming replied, “Curved to ease in cutting and slashing, long enough to keep distance between the fighters.”
“What is it made of?” the warleader continued.
“Tendlepogan clay,” Ming answered as she ran a finger over the perfectly smooth surface, “Polished in the slippery sap of the stampeding trees.”
“Tendlepog, you say?” Zhu asked curiously. “Is that where you’re from?”
“Can this weapon be reproduced with local clay?” Qiang Quan added.
“Is ‘stampeding tree’ an innuendo of some sort?” Fu thought out loud.
Wenbo looked pleadingly at Anu and said, “We do not yet know if we can produce anything of this quality here - our Mom was a crafter unlike any other mortal. To copy her work is a mission we cannot promise we will complete at this stage.”
A steady palm called to silence the deliberation. ” Did your ’Mom’ perhaps leave any blueprint or recipe to follow?”
“W-well…” Wenbo started and scratched his head. “Master Zhong, what do you figure?”
"Fortunately," Master Zhong Wang began, "Our Elder Mother kept records of her knowledge and that of Tendlepog. With time I may be able to peruse what journals we have taken with us, as well as her special books." The corner of his mouth twitched, "It may take some time, our Elder Mother has been alive since the dawn of creation itself."
“In time, it will be uncovered,” Ai supported. “Until then, unfortunately, such technology is unknown to both of us.”
”Most unfortunate. Nevertheless if and when the knowledge is gained the future, we would greatly benefit from it. As it stands now, I find the terms acceptable.”
“Perfect!” Wenbo smiled and bowed his head deeply. “Then let this be the beginning of a long and, in His Lordship’s words, prosperous friendship between our two nations!” The dreamer lord held out an open hand.
Anu grabbed it. ”Let it, indeed.”
Ape’s doing paper work and calls in Zhu for a chat. Zhu’s like “yo, sorry bout them ruined farms” ‘n Anu’s like, “nah’s cool fam”. They then outline a government reform that’ll turn their city into several sections overseen by overseers with the goal of max production. Leaders will be paid in additional rations. After that, Anu tells Zhu to keep domesticating pigs.
Then, after Zhu leaves, a guard notifies Anu that a huge fuckin’ thang is approaching. Anu calls all twenty warriors to his side to face it. However, turns out it’s hecka nice and stops. Anu sends forth his scout Lang to check it out. Lang meets Wenbo, Ai, Wang and Ming, as well as the Babble Fish. Using the Babble Fish is a lil’ inconvenient, so they go to Anu asap because he speaks every lingo. They learn that ape is half Sheng and say hi. They give him some clay plates. Zhong says they all part Sheng. Ape invites them inside.
Inside, they start discussing friend stuff. Wenbo’s like “we give y’all clay and shiet for free” and Anu’s like “shiet, good deal fam”. Wenbo then says, “ho shiet, hang on, not entirely free. Can y’all help us get mats?” Anu responds by saying, “y’all not enough?” Wenbo says “nah”, but the great Wang’s like, “yo, at least consider the fact that we’re like 60 people and that accepting immigrants might push out capacities just a little bit,” and proposes that they only take 30. Ming agrees. Zhu gets that number down to 20. Fu Lai’an notices they can make clay weapons, but Wenbo and the others say they ain’t got that level of skill quite yet. They agree to be friends and exchange 20 temporary workers for knowledge on claycraft and a gift of clay.
Siwen start: 7 +1 minor roll +1 major roll +1 Funtime with friends Siwen end: 10
Hermian Academy start: 6 +1 minor roll +1 Funtime with friends Hermian Academy end: 8
It was the middle of the day. The wealthiest and stronger of every clan, the shaman and the chieftain formed a tense pentagram in the scarce hills grass next to the sorry excuse for a chieftain’s hut. They sat in glaring suspiciously at one another, the chieftain’s eyes scanning the porky face of Crunch of the Pig Tribe, the goat skull atop Snaglag of the Goat Tribe’s head; the bull horn in Lop of the Ox Tribe’s nose; and the thousand wrinkles covering the face of Wololo. In the centre of the shape laid the odd stick of wood and metal. Rog-mohog gave that thing an especially suspicious glare.
A whole day had passed since Goop the scout had brought the stick. Since then, rumours had spread throughout the camp, and Rog-mohog hated rumours. It wasn’t because they could eventually undermine his rule or cause a panic, no, no - when rumours spread throughout the camp, they created factions, factions who were so darn sure their version of the rumour was the right one, and whenever two factions collided, a section of the camp would usually be leveled from the following brawl.
Feeling that they had all been glaring enough, Rog-mohog slapped his thigh and said, “Roight! Are yuh’all ready?”
Click, click, click...
“Roight… First fhing on the agenduh…”
... Click, click, click… Heh, heh, ehehehe.
“... Is…”
... Click, click… Eheheheheheh…
“Snaglag, ye git, put the bloomin’ stick down!”
The ogress immediately dropped the stick back into the circle and twiddled her thumbs innocently. “Sorry.”
The chieftain growled quietly. “...Roight, as I was sayin’... First fhingy on the agenduh is--”
“Whassat?” Lop asked.
“Wha’s whot?”
“Agenduh.”
“Yeah, I dunno either,” Crunch backed up in a surly manner.
Rog-mohog rubbed his eyes. “Is a list of fhings to do.”
“Oh. Roight, why didn’ ye just say that, boss?” Lop complained. Wololo hummed a tune to himself, and it was uncertain whether he truly was mentally present. Rog-mohog picked up a nearby rock and lobbed it at Lop’s head. The giant fell backwards and smacked into the ground. Rog-mohog patted his hands.
“ROIGHT! First fhingy on--”
“OW! Tha’ hurt, ye git!”
“Lop, I swear t’ tha’ Anceste’ Spirit…”
“Ye wanna foight, HUHN?! I’ll smack ye shoit, I swear on me mum!”
“Did someone say foight?!” Crunch thundered gleefully.
“THE BLOOMIN’ STICK, YE GITS!” Rog-mohog thundered back and there was a silence. Lop and Crunch both looked down at the stick.
“We foightin’ the stick?” Lop asked.
Rog-mohog smacked his forehead so hard the others thought he was going to pass out. “NO, YE BLOOMIN’ GIT! We talkin’ ‘bout the stick! The fhingy that Goop brought in the other day ‘n where in the spirits’ name did it go…”
... Ehehehehehehe… Clickclickclick…
Rog-mohog sent a fist like a boulder into Snaglag’s temple and took the stick from her subsequently unconscious hands.
“THIS!” He shouted and pointed at it. “This is whot we talkin’ about!”
Crunch and Lop looked at one another. “Tha’s no fun. I’d rather foight,” Crunch said.
“IswearI’llendallofyouoneday…” Rog-mohog muttered into his palm. “Rooooiiight, whot if I give you a foight, then?”
The two snapped their eyes to the chief and made wide grins. “Oooooh, bloomin’ ‘ell, boss! Tha’s generous o’ ye.”
“I still owe ye for that punch the other day,” Crunch said proudly. “Crunch always payin’ his debts, he does.”
“‘S roight.”
Rog-mohog stared longingly at the edge of the fifty metre tall cliff before facing the others again. He sucked in a deep breath and said, “Oi…” Crunch, Lop and the recovering Snaglag all looked at him curiously. “Whot?”
“Do ye wanna plunder a bit?”
“Plunder?!” they shouted as one and clapped their hands excitedly. “Whot we plunderin’?”
Rog-mohog smirked and beckoned them in with a finger. The three leaned in and sharpened their ears. “Accordin’ to Goop, y’know the scout, there’s a bunch’a wood ‘n shoiny, bloomin’ metal somewhere far, far off to the west.”
The three tribe leaders straightened up and blinked at one another. “Half the fun o’ plunderin’ is killin’, though,” Crunch muttered disappointedly. Rog-mohog stifled a frustrated roar and beckoned them down to his level again.
“Roight, roight, roight… Buuuuuut, roight… There -might- be fhings to kill there.” He gave a shrug and the three leaders looked thoughtfully at one another, if that was possible.
“‘E does ‘ave a point,” Snaglag admitted.
“Aye, there -could- be fhings there…” Lop agreed.
“... How far west, y’say, boss?” Crunch said suspiciously.
Rog-mohog pointed frantically in a semi-western direction. “As far as y’can. Just go and go ‘n keep goin’ until ye cannot see the Big Rock anymore. In fact, if ye get lost ‘n don’t come back, that’s means ye found it.”
The three ogres once more made their finest attempts to appear ponderous.
“Makes sense,” Lop concluded.
“Aye,” Snaglag agreed.
“We’ll be off, then, boss!” Crunch said happily. “Enjoy bein’ bored back ‘ere, ye git!”
The three of them cackled as they walked off. Rog-mohog snickered. “Enjoy dyin’ out there, ye gits.” He turned to Wololo who had fallen asleep. The chieftain pocked the shaman and the old ogre’s manner of waking up simulated rising from the dead.
Rog-mohog once again gave the cliff a thousand yard stare. Would anyone miss him, he pondered for a moment? How did the Ancestor Spirit look upon such an act? Likely not very kindly.
“So… Whot we doin’ now?” Wololo asked.
Rog-mohog eyed the pile of sticks behind him with a skin draped over the top.
“Someone’s fixin’ my hut,” the chieftain thundered and stomped down to the village below.
The shaman blinked. “Nixin’ my cut? Who dunnit? Oi! Boss! Who’s nixin’ my cut, HUHN?!”
And so, another day passed fruitfully in the camp of Big Rock.
C) Actually build a hut for the chieftain. E) A group of fifty or so ogres went off due west to find the wreckage of the gnome ship.
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