Welcome, Tribes, may your leader take you through the ages to prosperity!
Starting Population:
The forest the elves call home have served them well, there are dangers there, but the growing faith of this people is bringing them new strengths.
At the western and northernmost point of a vast forest that sits not too far from he coast, the elves make their home.
The trees, which include apple and peach as well as some kapock and thick oak-like trees wind in great groupings along the area and almost to the coastline, but stop at high mountains. Food is plentiful and many rabbits and foxlike creatures live in the forests as well, but the elves often have to compete for food with the great ferocious bears the come down from the higher elevations to forage for berries and the gentle river that flows from east to west from the
mountains. The Aruans have taken to bringing their dead on a long journey through the northern forest and into the dry desert stepps to an oasis to lay their dead.
The elves who have not joined up and fallen in line with the new leader have moved to the east, along the forest.
The swamps they call home are a rough place, but they have adapted to the dangers quite well, and are beginning to thrive.
Quite close to an inlet off the coast, the lizardfolk are surrounded in a canopy of tall mangroves and twisting willowlike trees and cypress. Great vines float about the area, and melonlike fruit often float on them just beneath the surface. Edible lichen and moss are another staple food, and a few creatures, many types of snakes and colorful birds provide meat for the hunters. As the elevation increases to the north, the swamps makeway to forests and hills.
The greatest danger to the Ergalians is the drake, a large creature the lies in wait much like a crocodile just below the surface and snatches up its victims to consume under water.
Over time, the lizardfolk have discovered various plants can provide useful for healing, and still others can be used to tip arrows and have a slightly paralytic effect.
Within the lush river valley they call their home, life is not without it's hardships, but the people do their best to prosper.
Great green trees with wide leaves of all types are plentiful in the area, and in addition to providing shade, many of them provide fruits as well.
Copses of Jackfruit, coffee, cherry, kapok line the great river upon witch he people fish.
They often catch catfish and smaller perch, and occasionnaly eel. The grass is thick here, especially closer to the water. Most days the river babbles nicely, flowing from the northeast bringing the fresh water from mountains that can be seen on the horizon.
Along the valley walls, the trees get thicker, and as one follows the river southwesterly, groups of mangroves and orchids become more abundant. Many small animals live in the valley, one being the jaguar, who often hunts the smaller mammals, the mice and a smaller monkeylike creature with sharp teeth and pointed ears.
Not much beyond the valley has been explored by the people as of yet, as their travels till they came here took them mostly along the river from the north. The group they left chose to remain more in the plains, but still along the river, whereas the Oru moved south into the valley.
Recently, the Oru have cleared a bit of land and begun purposefully planting seeds to grow as they please.
Having come through their ordeal, trapped in the caves, the goblins have learned much, and although they were diminished, more come to join them, the other moving on to the hills in the southeast.
The caves they call home are set midway at the bottom of a range of high mountains with hilly plains all about them.
Within the caves, the inhabitants forage for roots and fungus, the latter of which is more plentiful in the deeper recesses, and a somewhat phosphorescent moss also grows there with vivid purple and white flowers (although they can only be seen as such when brought outside).
The only other creatures within the caves are large insects of all types, and most of them cause little trouble for the goblins, simply co-existing.
More towards the surface though, wild canines prowl the area, with their mottled fur and frothing mouths, given the opportunity, they steal away any loose bits or goblin young they can get their teeth on.
Recently, in a spot a few hours from their abode, the goblins have discovered bits of copper ore and have learned that it can be melted down and reshaped.
The people that call themselves the Shuma'i have staked their place in the hilly jungles, and despite hardships, they grow in strength.
In the hilly jungles, cypress are common, as well as the kapock and coffee trees, and the further south they dare venture, the people fin mangroves as the vegetation become thicker and elevations drops, Turing into wetland swamps. Other trees and bushes have pepper-like fruits, as well as jackfruit. Monkey-like creatures with pointed ears, as well as proper monkeys roam in groups, but mainly keep to the trees. Colorful birds are also about, but the Shuma'i are always on the watch for the strange creatures that can take both humanoid and tiger form, preying on the weak and those who wander off alone. As of yet, they have not been too bold, but the Shuma'i always try to be prepared.
Recently, they have discovered that when they melt certain rocks found towards the mountains to the east, they can be reshaped to form tools and weapons.
With the mountains to the north and the hilly jungles to the south, the spider people have found their home.
In the jungles, kapok, jackfruit and mangroves are common, and the people often forage as well for fruits and nuts in the lower part of the nearby mountains. Strong deer with sturdy feet also make their homes here, eating the leaves of the bushes, and providing meat for the Vuscadorah when they have tired of snake or the occasional monkey.
They are ever watchful of the skies, as small groups of opportunistic Wyverns are always on the watch for their favorite treat, and pluck any of the spiderfolk who are out in the open for too long.
Most of the time they make their homes in natural recesses at the base of the mountainside, not quite caves, but deep enough to keep the flying reptile-creatures from venturing after them.
Recently, the Vuscadorah have taken to building more complex traps and even a few wall like defences to protect themselves.
The day begins in the Big Cave, a massive empty expanse full of sleeping and snoring goblins. Sitting in the cross-legged pose in which he sleeps, Chief Stone-Eyes feels the stone beneath his feet and around him and meditates, drawing the wisdom of the mountains into him. Then he awakes. His assistant, Flintfinger, immediately moves into step behind him as he proceeds through to the Small Cave where the women scrounge through the gathered roots and fungi, cleaning and preparing him. Striding over to a series of small depressions formed out of and carved into the cave, Stone-Eyes raises his hands and summons water from the air, the cool liquid filling the crevasses as he concentrates. Drinking first, he then makes way for the wives and mothers to take their fill and take it to the husbands and sons before filling it again and again.
Water complete, he strides over to the shelf where the previous day's roots and hunted flesh rests. Spreading his hands over it, he blesses it, the foods slowly smoothing out, the meat becoming succulent and clean, as his magic works.
Domestic chores complete, he walks through the caves and the awakening warriors to the entrance, where the fire-goblins work. Expression unchanging, he watches them melt down the newly found brown rock into a fiery liquid, making it turn and twist, then pouring water over it and watching it freeze into different shapes, becoming stronger with every practice and innovation.Pulling a cricket out of the air, Stone-Eyes munches, thinking, as he watches.
As the sun climbs to its apex, Stone-Eyes walks to the entrance pulls two rocks from the floor and pounds them together in time. After a few minutes, his white-dusted warriors appear out of the blackness, weapons in their hands as they await his command. Distributing orders, they arrange themselves around and outside of the cave and drop to the ground, still and motionless. Closing his eyes, the goblin chief waits. Within two hours, a wild dog walks into the cage as if in a trance, stopping in front of the chief, head bowed. The goblin opens its eyes and looks upon it and suddenly the dog snarls, hunger coming back to its mind- then goblin warriors pounce out of the shadows and slam into it, slitting its throat and shoving spears through its brain before carrying its carcass back to the Small Cave and the women.
Stone-Eyes repeats the process twice more, calling a wild horse with his final spell, his soldiers' speed and discipline growing with each repetition. Practice concluded, the soldiers re-assemble the rudimentary fortifications they have build- arranged logs and rocks to supply cover, a few stakes pointed towards the exit- and a few stand guard.
Today, new arrivals come- a small group of goblins from a hill tribe that had turned upon eachother. They stare in surprise and a little fear at the white-dusted fighters before being welcomed into the tribe with cave-dust painted across their brows.
Later a party of fighters and younglings eager to prove themselves accompany the women into the forest. With the greenery and the females around them to distract them they practice focusing on each other and keeping one another in sight, listening always for the sound of dogs or enemies as their women gather food and building materials and some men fell small trees.
As the day concludes, Stone-Eyes leads a small party of elders and men and wives up the mountain, pointing and re-shaping the rock at parts to allow their passage. At a small flat stretch atop their home, they spread out the fallen bodies of two goblins killed in a cave-in. The funeral chant calling loudly into the night, the burn them under the stars and throw mountain dust over their remains before proceeding down to the cave.
The year proceeds thusly, as goblins practice their skills and gather food, learning to work as one clan, one tribe. Elders tell tales into the night of the world outside, of the goblin gods, of the bravery of the white-dusted warriors. Goblins die and more goblins arrive and are born. Canines kill and are killed in turn, wild horses learn to avoid the cave, though many still fall in the woods.
When spring arrives, Nystan is slightly over a month the Ergalian Chief, again. His morning rituals, like some other villagers, consists of visiting the Szartha Loguss to talk to the ancestors about his plans for the day or for his reign.
He is going to hunt again, since his election to chief again of his tribe he had not had much of a chance to hunt besides the young drake he killed single-handedly, a feat not seen that often even by a hunting party.
Nystan knew the creatures were not as active during the colder winter period, especially in the morning. That's when he struck the creature from afar with his bow and killed it even before it came too close to him.
His prayers and wishes to the ancestors or his people were usually not answered directly, this time however when he wished for wisdom during his reign, one of the urns fell from the shelves. Broken on the ground, a sudden gust of wind gathered the ashes and blew it outside. Nystan followed the dust cloud towards a small hut, on the outskirts of the village.
There he found a young Lizardmen girl, sitting in a chair, eyes closed and murmuring in a strange voice. "You are ssstrong Nyssstan, but wissse you are not yet. I will help you with that, help you contain it for the good of your people. The ressst you mussst do yoursssself."
Then the girl opened her eyes, she was blind, asking who was there.
The girl, Saliss, was just 17 years of age, born blind, but with prophetic powers. Nystan offered her a stay in his large lodge as his advisor, she agreed almost immediately.
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In the summertime, Saliss spoke to Nystan about his wish of wisdom for his people. "To acquire wisdom Nystan, we must find a way to contain and preserve it throughout our generations. Look to the swamp and forest for anything that can hold our scriptures for a long time."
Nystan spent the rest of the summer hunting with a party for new poison for their arrows and spears, hunting the Giant Frogs of the swamp. It required a hunting party as ever, a Giant Frog alone is a dangerous prey for a lone hunter, being eaten whole is not something you want to do. All the while Nystan was also looking for different things to apply their runic scripture on. He collected reeds, tree bark, animal skins to use as a message board for their scriptures.
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At the end of summer and autumn, many lizardmen stayed at home, this was the time that the drakes would come and hunt for the winter. Often enough this has meant that one or two careless villagers were lost as they travelled outside or a drake came through the village. Only once did they fight and repel an adult drake from the village, that was in the second year of Nystan's reign as chief. Sadly he lost his best friend Merinn to a tail swipe of the beast, he got crushed as he slammed into the stone pillar in the centre of the village.
This year though only a young drake showed himself but quickly left as he saw the lizardmen shouting and screaming at it with their weapons held high.
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In the winter, Nystan prepared himself for the Leader Hunt again, he was determined to be the best yet again, hoping to continue his preservation of wisdom as Saliss called it. Their combined efforts has led them to picture many of the runic scriptures onto the tree bark or animals skins through the use of hot stones, carving the runes in to the bark of skin. Runes for 'Hunt', 'Frog', 'Drake' and 'Danger' were easy, though Nystan and Saliss soon found out that not every word in their language had a runic symbol. They had to think and work on that for a while before it becomes a success.
After a month of isolation in his hut, his only interaction being to recieve food at the door, Nazthulamax finally emerged as the first rays of the morning sun lazily wanders across the village. Hung lazily around his neck like a living scarf was Cerulishu, rearing her head up to let the warm sun caress her neck. Though still very small, she had grown many times larger since the day when she was gifted to him, barely the size of his hand at the time.
Her head moved to his, her mouth whispering in his ear. Then she curled tighter around his neck and appeared to fall asleep.
He gathered the tribe, every man woman and child.
It has been a cycle since I was chosen...since YOU, were chosen.
He gestured to Cerulishu.
This is Cerulishu, holiest of Azurilaas holiest creatures, herald of her word to me, as am I, to you. Together, we have meditated on Azurilaas wisdom and her teachings. While I have been gone, surely you have had questions and doubts. Speak them now freely, let no question go unasked. Fear not Her wrath in the doing, for our most benevolent Goddess does not blame you for your ignorance. Ask, and be enlightened!
Slowly, questions were asked and answered, becoming bolder and more frequent. Hours passed, untill finally the most important of all was asked. A young girl called out from the crowd.
If Azurliaa teaches that we should enojy freely the spoils of the world, what of the Bears and the Trolls? Are their spirits not condemned for their greed, their taking of more than they needed?
He smiled, the blue paint covering his skin cracking slightly at the edges of his mouth.
That is true young one, their greed did indeed condemn them to the eternal cycle. Even had their bodies been taken to Her holy grove and laid beneath the rocks as we now do, they would be cursed still. For you see their greed was selfish, it was for themselves alone. When you slay the deer, that you may eat well, it is a blessed act, true to the teachings of Azurilaa, but only if it is for the tribe, for the people. The lost spirits thought only of their own bellies, thought only of their own desires. That is why they are condemned. When you feast on Azurilaas bounty, when you take what she has given, thinking not only of yourself, but of family...of tribe. Then you do so knowing that Azurilaa loves you.
The crowd started talking amongst eachother excitedly. A few of the older men grumbled at first but it was clear the new belief had taken root in them as it had in him. And why shouldnt it? Azurilaas teachings filled him with pride and wonder, and now, they too shared in his vision.
You prove yourselves true believers of Azurilaa, I can hear it in your voices, the joy of discovering the truth. But we the chosen cannot simply sit and watch as our brothers and sisters of the other tribes, continue to live meager, unfullfilled lives. Surely many amongst them feel as we feel, believe as we believe. But they are bound to the old teachings, by those who refuse Azurilaa! We must free them. Slay their opressors so that they too may bask in Azurilaas love!
A cheer went up from the crowd at his words. Her head hidden in her sleeping coil, Cerulishu smiled.
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Knowing that they need warriors, not hunters, to carry out their "holy crusade" on the other tribes, Cerulishu (at the command of Azurilaa ofcourse) tells Nazthulamax to teach his people the art of Animal Husbandry. For when they no longer need to hunt every day for their food, they will be able to focus on preparing themselves for war with their neighbours, to train themselves to kill Elves instead of deer. While this will take years to implement, he will make preparations to attack the other elves in this valley before the year is out
Nazthulamax spends most of his time meditating by himself and preaching Azurilaas word to the tribe, becoming more zealous with every passing month, absorbed in his own grand destiny. A priest by title, sorcerer by trade.
Cerulishu meanwhile spends her days overseeing the practical aspects of Azurilaas will, teaching the people how to keep livestock. They reverendly obey her, though their faith lies in Nazthulamax, not in her.
Seeing the potential of the wolves as beast of war, Azurilaa begins to make plans for their domestication.
As winter sets in, they attack under the cover of darkness, their war tactics immitating the hunting tactics of their ancestor spirits, the wolves. The warriors wear the pelts of wolves. Each has slain a wolf to prove himself a warrior. Coupled with their howling to communicate during the battle, they terrify their enemies (samurai style)
Hasura stood beside her brother on the crown of Lanay Hill. Vaios watched the western sky with a fascination that his sister found disturbing. He stood on a once flat stone that had two hollows worn into it by the feet of generations of Shuma'i starwatchers. Directly in front of him, a hundred paces away, just before the hillside dropped sharply into the dense jungles of the valley, stood a tall cairn of stones stacked to the height of a man, and beyond that, the sun was setting. Around the crown of the hill, other cairns marked the sunrise and sunset on the solstices and equinoxes.
"The equinox," Vaios said. "The silver planet will be in the sign of the Tiger when the moon is full, four days from now. Have you the spearheads?"
Hasura showed her brother seven short blades, with notches near the base so they could be lashed into a split wooden haft. They shone brightly in the light of dusk, the substance strange and wonderful. Only a year ago, their tribe had discovered how the white stone would change if it was melted and hammered and allowed to cool. It was not as sharp as obsidian, but stronger, and there was no doubt that it had potency, for it was so clearly tied in color to Argenta, the warrior star.
Hasura would wield one spear, and six of the clan's bravest warriors would wield the others. They would guard the mouth of the cave against the tiger-man when the full moon brought him, and they would see if the power of the white metal would be enough to overcome the tiger-man's magic, that made their strongest attacks merely scratches.
When the sun was down and the stars shone bright in the sky overhead, the rest of the tribe began to appear out of their caves, climbing up through the shadows of the forest, one by one. They brought fruit and fish baked with nuts and roots, and shellfish boiled with peppers and honey. They wore bright feathers and diaphanous robes decorated with glittering stones, each stone representing a star or a planet, each robe a representation of the zodiac at their birth. They came to celebrate the birth of the new year, and the election of Hasura Nuani as their new chief.
Vaios stood on Lanay hill by himself, the skies hidden from view by the dark monsoon clouds. A terrible wind had blown over two of the cairns last month, and now the full moon was past, he had drafted the warriors to help him stack the rocks in their proper places. Not the silver spears, of course. They were too important to trouble with this kind of labor. They spent their nights training and hunting wild game, making themselves strong for the full moon. As he directed the labor, Vaios wondered at the ancient wisdom that placed the cairns so precisely. Had the old ones been closer to understanding the language of the stars than he was?
Far away, Hasura crouched in the brush by a stream. Across the stream was a clearing, and a few wooden huts with grass roofs clustered in a circle. The rain and dark hid her from the men that lived in the village. This was the home of the tiger-men. She and the other silver spears warriors had finally killed one with their silver-pointed spears and arrows. In the month since that victory, the tribe had changed. They were braver. They left the caves for more than just to gather food, and some even slept outdoors, though the midday sun made it far too hot for Hasura's taste. Two children had even begun to follow Vaios to Lanay Hill to watch the stars.
Hasura had been cautious. One tiger-man killed did not mean they were free of the horrible predators. It meant they had a chance. She had told the tribe to keep to the old ways when the full moon came, six days ago, and they had stayed hidden in their caves, protected by treacherous cliffs and traps. Sure enough, there were two of tiger-man's brothers this time, searching for the one who had not returned. Hasura lay hidden in the darkness and watched as the two of them had prowled outside the cave, searching for a sign of their lost brother, and searching for prey.
When the full moon began to wane, the tiger-men had left. She had stalked them for four days, traveling in the miserable heat and light of the day, thanking the trees for their shadows that kept her safe. From the trees, she watched as they had made fires each night, bold and unafraid of the things that stalked the forest. Now she had found their home. She watched and saw that here, they were very like her own people, though they were horribly reddish brown in shade rather than a decent charcoal grey like the Shuma'i. They fished and hunted and gathered the riches of the forest. It was as if they were some other thing, until the moon claimed their spirits. She turned for home, glad that she could travel at night when it was safe.
Vaios and his students came back to the caves at dawn. In the great cavern, most of the tribe awaited their news. Though the Shuma'i could see well enough in the dark, the fire in the center of the cavern burned always, as a sign that the tribe was still strong. The smoke vented out in a few places on the side of Lanay Hill, tiny cracks that twisted through the hill, too small for even a serpent to traverse. The elders waited by the fire, slowly feeding it with wood gathered by the children when they first went above ground.
Alimas had died two weeks ago, the first of Hasura's silver spears to fall since they had begun to fight back against their enemy, the tiger-men. Hasura had been wounded as well, and still lay in the cavern she shared with her husband and children, and his parents. Vaios suspected that she was recovered in body, but that the loss of one of her fighters had injured her spirit. She had come up to the hilltop when they burned the body, offering his spirit to the stars, and Alimas had been seen, slicing across the sky for a moment, travelling east towards dawn, scouting the way for the people.
"Can she still be the chief?" Grandmother Halinay asked. "If she is crippled, how can she lead our warriors?" She had recommended her grandson, Famiye as chief when Hasura had been elected, and it was no surprise to Vaios that she was moving against Hasura now. The old woman had been born when the moon was full in the Serpent's house, and she acted accordingly.
"The moon is not full for two weeks," Father Julilo answered. "Wondrous things have happened for us following Hasura's star. We should not hasten now to follow another." He spoke for the Antelope. The council of elders was made up of the oldest man or woman born under each of the twelve houses of the zodiac, so that all of the heavens would be represented.
"And if she is crippled?" Halinay hissed. "Will we wait until the moon is full to appoint our new chief? Will our warriors follow a stranger against the tiger-men?"
Vaios scowled, but he had no position. He could not speak to the elders while they sat around the fire.
"Who would you name as chief that would be a stranger to our warriors?"
Heads turned, and Hasura dropped from the ledge where her family's cave opened into the great cavern. Only she, as chief, could speak when the elders sat around the fire. It was rare for one to do so unless the elders could not reach a decision, for the chief's role was to see to the warriors and the safety of the caves, not to rule over the people. That was the elder's job.
Halinay glared at her, and they all noted the scars that cut across her belly, where the tiger-man's claws had opened her. The other silver spears had driven it off, and Vaios had been able to heal her before she bled out, but the wound had been grievous.
"The year of the Coati is only halfway gone, is it not?" she asked. "Have I not fulfilled my obligations? Are we not stronger than we were before? Halinay may wish that I had been killed, but as I am able to walk and to fight, there is no cause for talk of a new chief."
The grandmother of the serpent house glared, but held her tongue. For the moment, the danger was gone, and the elders called Vaios to hear his report on the heavens.
The moonlight filled the jungle with shadows, but the Shuma'i lived in darkness and saw easily enough. Hasura crept forward, and peered through the leaves, and then she saw a tiger-man sniffing at the corpse of a pig they had left on the trail. She raised a hand and beckoned with a finger, and in the darkness behind her, a dozen men and women glided forwards, silver spears ready. A dozen more crept up to where she stood, bows at the ready, silver-tipped arrows nocked.
Hasura's spear was in her left hand, a throwing spear in her right. As chief, she was permitted a second silver weapon. She moved silently through the shadows. When she was close enough, she braced her feet, took a deep breath, and threw. She didn't wait to see if she'd hit, but turned to sprint back through the forest, towards her spears. A roar of shock and pain and fury told her the throw had been true, and she ran harder as she heard the thing tearing through the forest behind her.
A shape loomed up from the darkness, and she had a moment to see the face of one of her spears before she saw his spear thrusting towards her heart. She dove under the point and somersaulted past the man. She was still crouched low when she came to her feet behind him and swung her spear, using the haft like a staff. He tried to jump over the swing, but she stood and caught his ankle, dropping him to the ground, and she ran on.
The tiger-man was on him before he could stand, and he barely had time to scream before he was silenced. The other spears moved in, and arrows rained down. The tiger-man was slain. Hasura heard someone crashing through the brush, and raised her spear, fearing more treachery, but it was her brother.
"Famiye," Hasura said, answering the question written plain on his face. "Save his life if you can. I want to know if he betrayed me on his Grandmother's orders."
Vaios nodded, and went to where the silver spears were finishing the enemy.
"Was this the betrayal you saw in the stars?" Hasura asked, looking down at Famiye's body.
"It may be," Vaios said. "But I cannot know for certain."
The sun was setting, signalling the start of the march. Cassarah ground the last bit of mixture into her mortar before spitting into it. She reached for a small brush and dipped it into the concoction. Delicately, Cassarah applied the poison to a set of small bone darts. One by one, and with great care, each dart was inserted into the tubes of the small box at her table. The Vuscadorah's leader takes her spear and her trap, and begins the walk down the wall of her house and toward the gate.
As she walks, the colony slowly comes alive. Men dance for women, their front legs high in the air as they skitter left and right in a sometimes vain attempt to impress. Other tribe members begin their work, webbing and building, expanding their living space. Towers, homes, larders, and wallways are erected and the walls outside the caves and tree homes are extended out. Higher roofs are made to protect non-cave dwelling Vuscadorah from the sinister wyverns. It is the time of mating, and all this must be prepared before children are laid.
Cassarah arrives at the gate to see the hunters gathered for the First Hunt. The gathers come from the jungle floor and bring the fruits and nuts hunters need to bait their traps. Her party is ready and awaiting her orders. Without a word, they skitter up the wallway entrance in silence, and down into the jungle below.
And the First Hunt begins. By night, they come from the trees, ever watchful of both prey and predator. By day, they crawl into the canopy and construct quick and crude shelters, waiting for the safety and security of the night. Each cycle, they check their previous traps, and set new ones. Hunting parties gather prey they don't need and send it back to the villages so that those that must stay behind may survive.
It will continue as such until the First Hunt ends and all can return home.
The time of mating over, females start to lay their eggs in the large hatcheries recently constructed. As the children hatch, these hatcheries will be converted into living quarters and whatever else the colony needs. But until then, they are guarded by all of the tribe.
As the hatching begins, Summer ends along with the First Hunt. The hunters come home, some parties smaller than before, and all parties with less prey than years prior. It will be a lean year, and many may sacrifice to nourish the colony.
The Second Hunt begins. As a leaner time, the less experienced hunters leave. The dominant tribe members stay behind to protect the children from the wyverns and other predators. They are small, and to those of such size and dominance as Gailyn and Cassarah, a dozen or more may be able to fit upon their back.
The colony instructs them in their history and their ways, showing them how to create traps, build, and fight. As with all things in the colony, preparation is key. The children must be prepared in the coming years, as when they grow, they will need to be able to join in the First and Second Hunts, to build what the tribe needs, and to protect the colony from every invasion.
The Second Hunt returns, the leanest ever known. The larders are understocked. The bones they use as tools are under-supplied. Cassarah looks through her webbed window, looking over the expanse past their jungles and mountains. They will need to expand. They will need to grow. If they don't, there is no way they can survive.
Spring
It's been eight winters since we started putting the bodies of the ancestors to work the new fields. The transition was smoother than I had feared, and I feel we are blessed by the spirits. A new path and a new horizon. Ma'ru Paleface thinks as she looks out upon her gathered people, painted with white and red markings of fertility, and unliving ancestors in the beaten earth gathering circle. The view from atop the earthen mound is breathtaking. The mountains two days to the north block the horizon with their purplish hue, and the dense forests to the south are aglow with the low morning sun. The carved wooden posts of the Seeding Altar still smell fresh from when they were cut the day before. The altar, heaped with dried seeds and grains from last year, game, fruits, and various wooden spirit totems would be left until the full moon, three days hence, then lit ablaze, along with the canopied altar, adding another layer to the mound-the largest in their village, and the community center. One day, perhaps, we shall built it tall enough to rival the mountains. Ma'ru smiles at this fanciful notion, but knows her plans are rooted in the whimsy.
Summer
The attacks on the southern fields by ravenous jaguars was unprecedented, and luckily without many casualties as it was at midday when the ancestors worked. After driving the creatures off, the warriors set off in search of answers. Were the spirits angered? Did something drive them north from the jungles and across the river? Why were they in such large numbers and so gaunt? The Spirit Talker kept the bodies of the two slain jaguars, and laid them to rest in a mound reserved for their honored enemies, a tradition that has seen little use since the Tribe of Oru migrated here nearly two decades ago.
The summer heat and humidity are more bearable with the ancestors to take care of most of the work in the heat, and the thick fanlike tree branches harvested from the southern forests are placed atop many carved posts to form summer pavillions. The digging of new mounds uncovered even more pockets of soulstones, a further sign from the spirits that this truly is the home their people had searched so long for.
Fall
The Harvesting Altar stood tall yet simply, with its dark wood carved posts depicting the heads of jaguars and tigers, appropriate for this year. The Feast of Culling Life was about to commence that night, and the year had brought them much life and much death. In the summer, the jaguars that were driven north by diminished prey were seen as a sort of harbinger of death. Chieftain Ma'ru Paleface ordered the construction of a low wall of timber, with outward facing spikes along the river, and a few smaller spiked walls around the less guarded huts. when this did little to deter the jaguars, a large common house of timber was erected in the gathering circle to house the community in the event of an attack. These, and the vigilant archers did well to fend off the hungry predators, but none slept easily as they all thought of what had driven them north. The warriors that returned told tales of large orange cats with black stripes that turned into dark-skinned men and back again. They fought with the fury of a wildman, and the cunning of a jaguar. Clearly, they were to blame for the displaced jaguars. however, by fall, the balance seemed restored, and life returned to normal-a spiritual spring of sorts.
As the first of the crops were set ablaze with the dead children from the year, the bodies of the eldest ancestors were beheaded, and the warriors led them to their reward. Two open mounds, lined with tools, weapons, foods, drink, and fetishes were waiting to receive them after all their work. In a few more years, these same mounds would be used to fertilize the fields they once worked, continuing the eternal cycle.
As the warriors did this, The Spirit Talker and her apprentices began surrounding the recently exhumed ancestors with soulstones and chanting. They would perform their ritual for a fortnight, in shifts, and a moon cycle later some would rise to walk among the tribe again, and provide labor and support.
Winter
The cold, wet winter of the river valley was much as any other. Frost covered the hard ground in the mornings, and many days were filled with icy rain. Many of the tribe focused on crafting the stores of dried wood, retelling stories of the tribe and the exploits and follies of the year, collecting winter toads for soup stock, and practicing any skills they had neglected during the year. During the winter the ancestors were again set to patrol the surrounding forests for predators and raiders, and help build more mounds for the next year. However, this winter, some of the ancestors-led by the spirit Talker and a few warriors, headed north to the foothills of the mountains to look for larger rocks. The Chieftain says that next year, Stones shall replace the wooden posts of the gathering circle, and large stones shall become the foundation of the new mounds to prevent burrowing creatures from disturbing the ancestors and to prevent erosion from diminishing the mounds.
Azuran: 130
Ergalian: 127
Oru: 132
Rockmouth: 153
Shuma'i: 136
Vuscadorah: 120
(not including changes below)
Azuran: %
Ergalian: %
Oru: %
Rockmouth: %
Shuma'i: %
Vuscadorah: %
Spring:
As the first year passes and the second comes forth,
the Rockmouth find some fortune; Through happenstance,
Stone Eyes finds that chewing the purple and white
flower invigorates the body and senses and promotes
quicker healing; however, the affect is also such
that after several hours, the imbiber begins to shake
and hallucinate for a random amount of time.
How does this affect the tribe? Is it used or
abandoned? If it is used, what restrictions are put
on it, or is anyone free to partake?
Summer:
During a hunt, one of the younger hunters makes an
astonishing kill all by himself. His skill was
normally thought to be average, but he seemed to
almost be blessed by his accurate throw of the spear,
even showing exceptional courage. The other goblins
are quite impressed, and the word of this feat even
brings more goblins to the tribe
from another group. Razortooth (so named for one lower
fang that is quite a bit larger than the others) is
gaining fame. How is this handled?
Fall:
While exploring the biggest of the caves that the
Rockmouth call home, a group of scouts find a passage
that leads deep into the mountain. Following the
passage leads to an internal waterfall, and the water
is especially fresh and cool, but is populated by an
immense group of large bats. Does the tribe work its
way further into the mountain? How are the bats dealt
with? Or is the water source used only occasionally?
Winter:
Something is scaring the wild dogs in the area. They
steadily are moving more towards the caves. While at
first this seems a boon, as they becoming easier to
hunt, the sheer number of them is starting t become a
problem, deaths have already
occurred. What is to be done?
Spring:
This spring is particularly difficult, as after one
group of hunters come back from an easy hunt, It
become clear that they have contracted some kind of
extremely virulent sickness. The disease itself causes
excessive peeling of the skin as well as spasms and
increased aggression in those that are affected. How
does Nystan deal with this? Saliss tells him that it
is a test by the swamp god, but Nystan has a bad
feeling in his frills. What is to be done?
Summer:
During this time, a great storm comes through the
coast close to the settlement, causing much tumult as
a tsunami-like storm wracks the area. Much of the
swamp is flooded over, and habitats are disrupted,
displacing many animals and causing the drakes to
become a bit more bold in their attacks. What is to be
done?
Fall:
Finally a boon! Through either skill or happenstance,
an inordinate amount of food is brought in, more than
enough to make of for the lesser amount to be expected
in wintertime. This gives the tribe some "leisure"
time. What is done during this season? Are
celebrations made, or does the tribe work on some
grand project?
Winter:
Although it is winter, and the somewhat cooler
conditions cause less activity in the area (although
being somewhat tropical, not alot less) Sallis, in her
meditations, come to an epiphany. She feels blessed
and comes to Nystan and the tribe with her revelation.
What is this boon? It is not earth-shattering, but
surely good for the tribe, and a sign that their
fortune is turning.
Spring:
It seems as though Azurilaa is indeed looking well
upon her chosen people. The gatherers of the tribe
find a greatly untapped group of fruit trees and even
find a good number of rabbits for meat. The bounty of
this find is such that it will last them into the
year. With no need to search for food for at least
months, what does Azurilaa dictate
they do now? Do they find new focus, or do they simply
enjoy the bounties?
Summer:
More bounty shines on the Azuran this summer as a
particularly strong stock of deer are captured. They
prove to be strong and fast, and for the most part,
even docile. It takes only a short amount of time to
put them to use. They seem like they would make good
mounts, but their muscle could also make for good
meat. Are they earmarked for one task, or other, or
put to another use?
Fall:
Again Azurilaa seems to be looking out for her people.
When the next group of elves is found, the scouts
report report that they are particularly peaceful, and
don't seem to have a single warrior among
them. They sleep in groups in the trees, seemingly
only eating fruits and occasionally are seen eating
scavenged eggs. How is this group approached (if at
all)?
Winter:
Misfortune! Over the period of a week, a great storm
washes over the area. Violent winds and hard rain as
well as lightning put the people ins a panic. A
portion of the settlement is destroyed, and lives are lost. Is Azurilaa angry for some
reason? (up to you) How does Nazhtulmax "spin" this,
or does he just tell the others that bad things
happen?
Spring:
In the first part of the new year, another group of
creatures comes to the Shuma'i. At first there are
only odd sightings of snakelike creatures, but after a
week, Grandmother Halinay comes to the council with
news. The "Visa'ankem" as they call themselves, are
great serpents with the heads off men. They are a
small group of . And seem peaceful
enough, promising to use their insight into the
"forces past the sky" to help the tribe. Are they
accepted or turned away?
Summer:
True or not, a rumor begins circulating that one of
Hasura's close relatives (brother or sister perhaps)
is in fact a Tiger-man in disguise; His/her fortune in
the last fight seemed to be far too great, almost as
if they were ignored during the fight. How is this
dealt with? It has only been a day since Hasura has
discovered the rumor.
Fall:
Related or not to the previous, a particularly violent
attack of tiger men comes upon the Shuma'i. Although
they are driven off, and only of the
tribe are killed, the Tigers seem much more brutal
this time, perhaps acting in revenge for their new
vulnerability? They are harder to find as well,
retreating further into the jungle. What is done to
ensure this doesn't happen again?
Winter:
In one of the smaller caves, a young boy finds a
tunnel that leads to an underground lake. There is a
great group eyeless fish here, and around the edges
grow a prodigious amount of edible fungus. This will
last the tribe through the winter and perhaps longer.
What use does the tribe make of this area?
Spring:
The spring begins poorly for the Vuscadorah as a
painful disease begins to spread through the tribe.
The symptoms cause a stiffening of the joints and dark
purple bruises to appear on the body. Although only a
few () are affected, it proves to be
virulent, and the elders can not seem to find a cure.
One of the medicine folk say they have a vision of an
herb in the jungle that can help, but it is far to the
south, and his visions are 50/50 at best. What is to
be done.
Summer:
During the summer, one of the Vuscodorah comes upon a
revelation after a Wyvern attack. Spurred on by fear,
he/she develops a rather inspired defence. How is
this implemented? What is the device exactly?
(remember, still somewhat primitive, but definitely as
step forward)
Fall:
Driven away from their vulnerable homes higher in the
mountains, and seeking more security, another group of
driders comes to the Vuscadorah. Are they accepted and
integrated? Are they ghettoised or welcomed without
question? The group consists of
driders.
Winter:
Whether the first group is turned away or not, more
driders come from the mountains looking to join
Cassarah's group. more refugees
make their way into the area. They could be taken in,
but this many more means less food and space for
everyone. What is to be done?
Spring:
The spring does not begin well this year for the Oru
people. A particularly clever creature has been
plaguing the people It seems a mated pair of
Ahuizotl has taken up residence in the nearby river.
Although wary, people have been fooled by it's ability
to mimic sounds, and of the folk have
been killed by the strange creatures. Does Maru direct
her warriors to try and kill the beasts, or is some
other method used?
Summer:
During the hottest time of the year, Maru comes to a
revelation. The spirits of life and death speak to her
in whispered tones, granting her new insights. She
feels invigorated. What revelation comes to her? How
does this affect the Oru?
Fall:
A middle aged Oru tribesman, and a valued hunter is
found to be hoarding. It seems after the death of his
wife and child at the teeth of the Ahuizotl, he has
gone a bit mad and lost faith. Recently discovered,
the man has stockpiled food and arms away from the
rest of the tribe and has holed himself up in a mostly
defensible position. What is to be done? Can be be
reasoned with? What punishment is appropriate?
Winter:
The weather this winter is particularly calm. With
less worry about the environment, the Oru can focus on
other pursuits. There is plenty of food, and things
have mostly calmed down from the previous. What does
Maru focus the tribe on? Doe they find leisure or more
work?
When he had sent the scouts far and wide to search the valleys every corner and map out their home, he had expected them to find new resources for them to use, but when word had come of a magnificent grove of fruit trees, he had felt Azurilaas hand at work more than ever. Emideatly he had spoken in front of the tribe, told them that they must relocate to this grove, that it was surely a sign. Just as Azurilaa had her sacred grove in the land of the spirits, so too should she have a sacred grove amongst the living, a place where they may go and pray for her blessings. He had wasted no time, and mere days later they had left, taking with them all they could carry, leaving empty huts behind.
He turned his gaze downward to below his own hut, at the very foot of the great tree. There the warriors were hard at work, training themselves for the battles that were sure to come. With so little need to hunt, now that they had been so blessed, there was plenty of time for such training, and he had put every hunter to the task. Already many of them bore the pelt of the ancestors proudly on their heads and shoulders. A few had been lost to the ancestors in their attempt to prove their worth. Surely their mettle had been found wanting. But they were with Azurilaa now.
Behind him the man and woman shifted on their feet, reminding him of his duties and snapping him back to his own tasks. He turned to face them, one a proud pelt bearing warrior, the other, his wife, swollen with the gift of life soon to be. There had been many such blessings since the coming of Azurilaa, more than usual. Freely partaking of her bounty had brought the security for starting families earlier.
Stepping towards them, he placed a hand on the womans belly, weaving gestures and symbols with the other as he chanted the tongue of Azurilaa. As he finished, he spoke in their own tongue.
Azurilaa bless the fruit of their union, see it safely to loving arms and bright future. Of the Tribe, With the Tribe, For the Tribe.
As he finished, Cerulishu, wrapped around his neck as always, extended out her head above his free hand. She bit into her tongue with a low growl, her blood dripping into his palm. Reaching two fingers into the blood, he then traced Azurilaas symbol on the womans belly, a dragons eye, the pupil slit in the shape of a lightningbolt.
As the couple left, he turned back to the balcony, a smile on his lips.
When the time for the great meeting of the tribes came, Nazthulamax did not go as he had the previous year. He knew the other tribes would not welcome him after he had preached Azurilaas word the previous year. Instead he held a great feast, as would be held at the meeting, proclaiming the time of the meeting would now be the time of Azurilaas praise, an annual week long feast to worship her name.
A great silence had settled, as Nazthulamax had said nothing, simply lookuing at each in turn, moving his eyes across the crowd, as if weighing their worth. Then he suddenly raised his arms, a smile on his face.
Brothers, Sisters! Azurliaa be praised we have found you! When the warriors brough word that they had found you, I feared to find more heathens amongst us, more who would scrape a living amongst the trees instead of embracing Her love! But now that I look upon you I see differently! Come, share with us Her blessings and let me teach you her ways!
As he finished speaking, the warriors cheered and sank their spears into the ground, the group parting to reveal that which they had been carrying. A great bounty of fruit, cooked meat and various herbs were brought forth and placed before Nazthulamax. Picking up a peice of meat, he took a great bite, closing his eyes and chewing with a smile. Then he moved to the Chief, offering the peice to the man.
What happened next would decide their fate.
The night after the great tragedy, he had prayed to Azurilaa for guidance, more feverently than any time before. Cerulishu had left him, and when she returned, Azurilaa had appeared before him. She had looked weary and wounded, yet still with a smile on her face.
She told him a great evil, an ancient greedy spirit, had returned to the valley. It had grown so old and powerful, it was no longer troll nor bear, but had become a perversion of her own sacred dragons, a horrid brown glistening thing. In its pride it had even taken a dragons name, calling itself Thilakiz. Had it been allowed to reach the village, if would have surely devoured them all. So Azurilaa had faced it herself, had risked everything by fighting it in the mortal world, where even she could die. Im her struggle, she had been forced to call upon all her might, watching with great sorrow as every barrage of lightning killed more of her people.
But in the end, Thilakiz had fled, and she had been too weary to pursue. She knew it would not return to face her again, but feared that it might scheme against her, find other ways to destroy her people. She warned him to stay vigilant, to watch for agents of Thilakiz. Then she had left.
With a heavy sigh, Nazthulamax readied himself to tell his people the story.
The year proved fruitful for the tribe, with many younglings surviving birth and childhood and many others arriving from the other, dying tribes. Under Stone-Eyes' leadership, the tribe maintained its discipline and cohesion.
Chief Stone-Eyes and another goblin skilled in healing watch silently as a wounded young warrior thrashes around in a daze, eyes rolling back, mouth gabbling a silent stream of nonsense. After some time, the thrashing ends, and he succumbs into a deep and dreamless sleep, as with the others. Stone-Eyes turns to the other goblin. "And him wounds be good by morning, more good than without herb?" The other goblin nods to his chief.
Taking a small handful of the white flowers, Stone-Eyes walks slowly out into one of the main caves that serves as a meeting place. Standing on a piece of high ground, he closes his eyes and waits. Over the next ten minutes, goblins notice their chief waiting and spread the word, until nearly the whole tribe was assembled in front of him, silent. Sensing enough souls, the chief opened his eyes and spoke. "Rockmouths! It now close to sun-day since rocks fell and goblins trapped! Since goblins separated! Goblins stayed together, goblins stayed strong, goblins becomed Rockmouths and goblins joined with females again!" The crowd cheered and halloed with approval at their chief's words. Raising his hands, Stone-Eyes calls for silence. "But Rockmouths now see new danger! New threat! Sneaky, tricky foul threat! But destroys, splits, like dog in horse-herd! This!" Raising his hand, he shows the white flower.
"White-flower make goblin-mind weak! White-flower dream-steal goblin from cave, from clan! White-flower make goblin care only for goblin! White-flower make weak clan split, make weak clan not care, make weak clan not fight together! Make weak clan into us-clan, from before rockfall!" Loud boos and cries of anger echo out from the tribe, directed at the flower. "But Stone-Eyes say Rockmouths strong! Stone-Eyes say Rockmouths too much clan-strong, family-strong, to split for puny white-flower!" Pointing at Flintfinger and a few other goblins, Stone-Eyes orders a small wood fire be made in front of him. As it is quickly assembled, he throws the flower onto it to be seized and eaten hungrily by the dancing flames. "Stone-Eyes say true Rockmouths, true clan-goblins, go find all white-flower and burn! Burn so we strong, burn so we burn dogs and enemies! Go!"
At this order the Goblins burst into furious approval and action, warriors and children dispersing and running through the caves searching for every tuft, every seed of the white flower and bringing it to be burnt. Once done the clan gathers around the burning flower-pyre and dances and yells and mocks and celebrates as one clan.
At the end of the day, Stone-Eyes smiles inwardly in his rest. The hallucinogenic flower is gone, and with it the threat to the tribe's unity; even if made taboo and thus desirable, it should all be gone before it can be used by the rebellious. And for the loss of its healing powers... Stone-Eyes has healing spells, too. Destroy one of his holds, one of his key powers as chief by saving the flower? Never. Never.
As his faithful guard, Flintfinger, brings him news of this Razortooth's prowess and growing renown, Stone-Eyes thinks and decides. The next day, Flintfinger is sent on the hunting party, and at his command Razortooth is given a key position in the party. Razortooth (presumably) serves well, downing a dog quickly and bravely. Cheered by the party, Flintfinger reports and confirms Razortooth's prowess.
The next day, Stone-Eyes gathers the tribe once more and speaks. "Rockmouths! We are clan, and family. We be strong because we be together! But can be clan of heroes and brave-goblins and still be together! Thisday I honour goblin hero, Razortooth!" Raising a hand, he beckons the younger goblin up to the raised ground next to stand next to him. The rest of the goblins, particularly Razortooth's friends, cheer and applaud. "Razortooth throw spear! Spear go through foul-dog head! Foul-dog die, meat feed clan! Razortooth brave, Razortooth help clan!" The crowd is quickly whipped up into a frenzy, cheering, before Stone-Eyes quiets them.
"Razortooth brave... so Stone-Eyes honour him. Stone-Eyes no children, wife die outside cave. Razortooth mother, father, brothers die- die by dog, die by no food. Razortooth- Turning to face the young goblin, Stone-Eyes extends his hand. "Razortooth, I want make you Stone-Eyes son. I want bind you with me with blood, with me be father. You accept?" The young goblin, (presumably) in awe of his chief and of the crowd, agrees. Stone-Eyes takes the young goblin's hand and buries their hands in the cave dust, raising it to show them covered in the chalky whiteness. Raising them high to the crowd, he shouts out "Stone-Eyes declare Razortooth is Stone-Eyes son!" Catching on, the youth adds "Razortooth declare Stone-Eyes is Razortooth Father!" Grinning at his 'son', Stone-Eyes finishes with "Any say no?" and growls ferociously at the crowd. Halloing with approval, the crowd explodes.
That night, Razortooth sleeps at the second most elevated spot in the cave. Stone-Eyes smiles to himself. Over the next few months, he will bond himself to Razortooth as best he can- hunt with him, fight with him, eat with him, sleep with him; teach him his wisdom, and secrets. Make the youth enraptured with his father, respectful, worshipping his chief. And if he grows self-absorbed or disobedient... Flintfinger is always there, and so is the prospect of an accidental rock-fall, or a sudden 'dog attack' to pull away his body... but it hopefully will not come to that. Another trusted subordinate would be extremely useful, particularly such a famous one, making the chief even more famous in turn.
Upon discovering the bats, Stone-Eyes gathers his hunters and, in the night, set upon them, attacking and killing some. The chief uses his power to create footholds to allow the goblins to swarm up and attack them. They (presumably) sustain some losses but continue on and repeat the next night, and the night after that, the warriors learning how to fight their new prey. Stone-Eyes orders his warriors to stop when the colony is decimated in number, enough to no longer be a significant threat to the full war party. This way the tribe has near-complete access to the water, plenty of bat-corpses to scavenge meat from, and enough to provide a continual supply in the future; meat may get harder to come by, and a colony close by is good eating.
Stone-Eyes takes the wild dogs to be a boon, particularly as the weather grows colder. The dogs become a test of the clan's ability to attack and defend. They work on erecting more defences, more spike traps and walls, at keeping a constant watch and a nearby force to rise and repel any dogs. In other words an opportunity for the tribe to learn to defend from a staggered yet powerful assault. Stone-Eyes directs the tribe to view any deaths from this as further incitement for hatred against the dogs, and for incentive for the tribe to work further at defending together and hunting the incoming wolves.
Saliss disagreed, her premonitions and visions showed her the Swamp God had planned this as a test of the Ergalian people. Though it was not clear on what kind of test this was, health, skill or wisdom? Saliss didn't know.
Nystan followed his gut feeling on this, isolating the hunters from each other by large cage like structures. Asking each of the hunters where they hunted and what they came into contact with. The ones that were still approachable and clear of mind told Nystan where they were went .
Nystan gathers a small group of healers and herbalists, asking for a few of them to accompany him into the area to search for the source and hopefully a cure or remedy for it. Telling the other healers and herbalists to provide care and nourishment for the sickened hunters.
"These houses should be higher or more elevated for when the time comes when an event like this happens again. We will all help the ones that were struck this time, next time it could be us."
His speech made some of the tribesfolk grunt, others nodded agreeingly or vouched to help those in need.
Though the flood was only a part of the problems this season, this cooperation between everyone made sure that they could face the bigger one accordingly.
Nystan and other hunters noticed the movement of the drakes from their normal territories, at night some even cam very close to the village. In the coming days and weeks the drakes moved even closer, attacking unaware villagers during the day. Nystan and Saliss both agreed on installing guard watches and an alarm call for a drake attack. Nystan himself stands watch during the twilight hours at dawn and dusk, hoping to at least bring one of the beasts down as a warning to the others, hanging it's skeleton over the Ancestor's Lodge as a tribute to the Ancestors and the Swamp God.
Saliss wakes up from her dream and vision. She listens to the sounds around her. That's weird, this doesn't sound like the great lodge of Nystan
She smells the air, dusty and old, this place reminded her of something. The smell of history, reverance and herbs ran into her nose.
I have been her before, when I was young, my father... he had died... we came here to...
She bursts into tears when rembering that time. She knew she was inside the Ancestor's Lodge, her father's remains were put here as well, he was one of the great hunters before Nystan's rise to chieftain, and as such he was honoured here.
How did I get here? I don't remember walking here with someone.
She feels around until she touches a rolled up piece of cloth, feeling a pot if warpaint close by. Something was painted upon the cloth only recently.
She remembered her meditation dreams, she could see her father for the first time ever, she knew it was him because of his voice. He led her down a path towards a large bog where a Giant snake lay coiled up. Once they came close, the snake rose up from the bog and hissed in Draconic.
"The Ergalians have passed my first tests Saliss. For this I reward you with the place of rare medicinal herbs. Take them, grow them, you will surely need them in later years."
As quickly as the snake coiled up in the bog again, so too did the vision end. Saliss later found her way back to the chieftain's lodge, along the arm of one of the mothers in the village. There she told Nystan the story of her dream and the sort of map she had drawn while she was meditating.
Nystan took a close look at the map and recognized the finding place of these herbs. He and a small party rretrieved a batch of these special medicinal herbs, hopefully able to cultivate a few of them in each house, leaving the rest to grow in their natural surroundings.
"Cassarah?" He blinks a few times and leans his torso in. "Ah! Good! You heard my vision? The cure? I swear on the colony's birth it is out there."
Cassarah leans to the side, looking past the medicine man, Udeesa, and to those surrounded by the healers. After a moment of thought she centers herself. "Is it contagious? Will it spread?"
Udeesa curls his hands together and looks cocks his head, looking into the distance at nothing and everything. "No, not as far as we see."
"I cannot risk that. I will sent four hunters here. Tell them what it looks like and where to find it." With that, Cassarah exits the room and sets off to find a suitable contingent of four hunters.
Cassarah turns to the inventor. "And you can put this all around the village entrances?"
The inventor rises up proudly. "Yes. And as you can see, it doesn't destroy the body, either. And the mixture, even combined with our web, is harmless to us in both touch and eating."
"Our home is overrun with Wyvern and our food is all but gone. We seek to join you. Do you lead this colony?"
Cassarah rises up as high as her body can take her and looks over the entire group as she speaks. "I am Cassarah, the leader of the Vuscadorah, the colony you enter. You may come, but you will work. You will build and you will with us and as we do. But you know our ways, and you know what you must do when the blood runs dry and prey are scarce." Cassarah motions to Gailyn. "Those of hunting age will follow Gailyn and eat. The Second Hunt is to begin soon. Those of other skills will follow me."
With that, the group splits up, and Cassarah directs those who do not hunt to their various stations and duties. They are treated as equals by all rights except one. The very way they move, the very smells they release, all know they are not true Vuscadorah yet. And if a famine comes, they will be the first to sacrifice.