[u][b][h2]Turn 7[/h2][/b][/u]

[hider=The Map][IMG]http://i64.tinypic.com/5e94q0.png[/IMG] [/hider]

[hider=The Events at the Grove]When the elves emerged from the treeline to the right, one of the Iceborn let out a sharp whisper. [i]"It's the Skraelings!"[/i]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We have no rope."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[img]https://img0.etsystatic.com/122/0/8676750/il_fullxfull.1022002362_a997.jpg[/img]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[i]'Peace breeds comfort. And comfort breeds weakness.'[/i]

With that, the elves began their journey home.[/hider]

[h3][color=00CED1]The Iceborn[/color][/h3]
[@Cyclone]
[Hider=Turn 7]A lone figure stood at the entrance to the Barrow build to the fallen. Dag couldn't see if it was a man or a woman, but something about the figure was utterly unfamiliar to him. At the same time, he felt like he knew this person. Whoever it was, he or she was dressed only in long thick robes with a hood over their head and a wolf pelt across the shoulders. They didn't look like a warrior, but neither a crone. Slowly, the figure turned around to face Dag, coming upon the barrow from far away. In the distance, he couldn't make out the figure, but he thought he could see a great white beard.
Then he blinked, and the figure was gone. Dag froze where he stood. He looked around, had anyone else seen the figure? No... The plains were empty. All Dag could hear was the hum of the soft breeze. 
From the spot the stranger had stood upon was a patch of white upon the ground. It lingered even as Dag finally worked up the presence of mind to finally approach the barrow. There, he realized the white patch was in fact the grass covered with frost and ice. The air was still cold in this exact spot, and upon one of the rocks stood a lone candle. It was lit with a tiny, dying flame. As Dag stared at it in awe, it was snuffed out by the breeze. 

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

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

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

[b]A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other[/b]

[b]Population:[/b] 249 men, 269 women, 78 children.
[indent][i]- 156 Goblin Thralls[/i][/indent]
[b]Livestock:[/b] A herd of goat.
[b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 60% of adult population.
[b]Food level:[/b] Above Average
[b]Resources:[/b] Lumber, Iron, [color=gold]Honey (low quantities, legendary quality)[/color]
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Growth:[/b] Base: 5% [i]+1% from food level, +1% from morale = 7%.[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] High
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] 
[indent]- [color=0054a6]Children of Artemon[/color]: [color=yellow]Neutral[/color]
- [color=teal]Deep Ones[/color]: [color=darkred]Hated[/color]
- [color=gray]Dark Elves[/color]: [color=yellow]Neutral[/color]
- [color=orange]Giants[/color]: [color=yellow]Neutral[/color][/indent][/hider]

[h3][color=yellow]The Antari[/color][/h3]
[@Murtox] [color=red]No post found. 2/3.[/color]
[Hider=Turn 3]The scouts ventured outward into the surrounding region and found seemingly abundant wildlife. To the north the terrain was mostly open with a river cutting through the grasslands. With only a few trees and forestated areas to protect them, the animals here were mostly small like rabbit, deer, beaver and the occasional fox or other lesser predator. The river was full of fish however, and near the streams where the samon jumped up the small falls, bears could be found waiting for an easy snack. In the mountains close to Pachacamac, the scouts found mountain goats and great rams that seemed a good choice for domestication indeed, but they were such adequate climbers that they simply eluded the scouts wherever they found them.
To the west, the scouts dared not venture too deep into the unknown forest but they noted a few brown bears near the outskirts. They must live north and west of the river that cuts through the grasslands, and in the forest they found elk and moose.
Lastly, to the east, the scouts were chased out of the mirky woods by packs of wolves, more brown bears and territorially aggressive moose and elk, even reindeer. Why had the wildlife grown so hostile to the east, and not the west, the scouts wondered.
Oh, and boars. Boars were pretty much everywhere, in the grasslands, near the slopes of the hills before the mountains and the woods to the east and west.

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

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

-

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

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

[b]A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other[/b]

[b]Population:[/b] 223 men, 218 women, 56 children.
[b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
[b]Food level:[/b] Above average
[b]Resources:[/b] Stone, lumber, copper.
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Growth:[/b] Base: 5% [i]+1% from food level, +0% from morale = 6%.[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Indifferent
[b]Foreign relations:[/b]
[indent]- [color=orange]Lizardmen of Ves'Tuk[/color]: [color=red]Hostile[/color][/indent][/hider]

[h3][color=0054a6]The Children of Artemon[/color][/h3]
[@Pirate]
[Hider=Turn 6][i]Silversteel...[/i] Aronax thought. [i]What work of wonder could possibly have set this in the earth? Has Artemon blessed us after all?[/i]
Aronax was the prospector set to work at the large iron, silver and silversteel mines that had recently begun operation in the vast mountains to the north. He was ancient and venerable, and although his hands were ragged from many years of craftmanship, he could still use them in his new proffession. He had concluded that Silversteel was as precious as silver indeed, but put iron to shame. Barely could the iron tools be used to excavate the silversteel ore from the rockwalls, that's how sturdy it was. It was hard to shape and a chore to process, but once the product was made... It was worth it.
Aronax held up the clump of ore in his hand. Pure silversteel, glimmering in the candlelight of his workroom, a makeshift office on the side of the mountain next to the mining entrance. Not only could he tell the immense value of such a resource, but he could sense magical properties in it as well. Perhaps once they could weave magic into their crafts once more, the silversteel could be used for wonderous works of art and tools.
But it was his job to make assessments, not just revel in the beauty of precious minerals. He must recommend to the rest of his people what to make of this new invaluable and seemingly indestructible, but rare, material.

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

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

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

[b]X[/b] Although the options are clear, Aronax manages to think of something else...[/color]

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

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

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

[color=gray][Temple construction completed next turn. Temple central tower with silver disc completed in 2 turns.]
[Oredhel and his scouts will return next turn.][/color]

[b]A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other[/b]

[b]Population:[/b] 170 men, 173 women, 59 children.
[b]Military:[/b] 15 Elf-at-Arms. Militia able to be conscripted up to 20% of adult population.
[b]Food level:[/b] Above average
[b]Resources:[/b] Lumber, fish, [color=gray]stone [i](small quantities.)[/i][/color], iron, silver, [color=orange][i]silversteel.[/i][/color]
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Trade:[/b]
[indent]Imports: [i]Raw leather and animal goods from [color=orange]Giant Camp[/color].[/i]
Exports: [i]Processed leather goods to [color=orange]Giant Camp[/color].[/i][/indent]
[b]Growth:[/b] Base: 4% [i]+1% from food level, +0% from morale = 5%.[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Indifferent
[b]Foreign relations:[/b]
[indent]- [color=ed1c24]Bonesnapper Tribe:[/color] [color=red]Hated[/color]
- [color=orange]Giant Camp:[/color] [color=lightgreen]Friendly[/color]
- [color=lightgreen]Lothelonni:[/color] [color=green][Assimilated][/color]
- [color=00CED1]Iceborn:[/color] [color=yellow]Neutral[/color]
- [color=gray]Dark Elves:[/color] [color=yellow]Neutral[/color][/indent][/hider]

[h3][color=DarkSlateGray]Clan Oreborn[/color][/h3]
[@Kangutso] [color=red]No post found. Turn: 2/3[/color]
[Hider=Turn 4]A goldenbeard explorer sat on a rock, resting after his recent voygages. He had been tasked, along with his group, of finding animals nearby that could perhaps be tamed or domesticated. It was a tale he'd be telling over a pint of ale for many years to come.

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

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

-

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

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

[color=gray][City completed in: 4-6 turns.][/color]

[b]A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other[/b]

[b]Population:[/b] 184 men, 180 women, 64 children.
[b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
[b]Food level:[/b] Average
[b]Resources:[/b] Copper, tin, gold, lumber, iron.
[b]Wealth:[/b] Very low [color=gray][i](Consisting mostly of raw gold ore for now)[/i][/color]
[b]Trade:[/b] 
[indent]- Mutual small-scale trade with the Ursar.[/indent]
[b]Growth:[/b] Base: 5% [i]+0% from food level, +0% from morale = 5%.[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Indifferent
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] 
- The Ursar: [color=lightgreen][i]Friendly[/i][/color]
- The Brown-Skin Orcs: [color=gray][i]Not yet met.[/i][/color]
- The Lilitu: [color=gray][i]Not yet met.[/i][/color][/hider]

[h3][color=DarkGray]The Lycan Covenant[/color][/h3]
[@Pyromaniacwolf]
[Hider=Turn 4]It would seem the ogres were more prone to give information under torture. From torturing the survivors before sacrificing them to the Gods, Goldtooth learned that the Ogres in Durgal's Basecamp are 500 as previously thought, but they aren't the only Ogres in this peninsula. Appearantly there are two more Ogre Clans in the nearby region - one of the blackskinned Blackgrin Clan, and one of the redskinned Bloodfist Clan. Durgal's clan was the Ironeye Clan, and according to the prisoners, Durgal was the most powerful of the three warlords.

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

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

-

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

[b]A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other[/b]

[b]Population:[/b] 154 men, 142 women, 25 children.
[b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 50% of adult population. 
[b]Food level:[/b] Average
[b]Resources:[/b] Requires prospection and industry.
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Growth:[/b] Base: 5% [i]+0% from food level,[/i] = 5%.
[b]Morale:[/b] Rallying
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] 
[indent]- [color=brown]Ironeye Clan:[/color] [color=darkred][i]Hated[/i][/color][/indent][/hider]

[h3][color=DarkGreen]The Orc-Grave Swamp Enclave[/color][/h3]
[@Bright_Ops]
[Hider=Turn 6]Buddy, Trip and Gredy made a breakthrough! Two, even... But if it is of the same cause, is it still considered two breakthroughs or one? Two simultanious ones, perhaps? Bah, either way... While browsing the different fungi known to the swamps and caves, Trip had remarked on one [i]"This one can't be eaten. No good for you. Might kill you, I think."[/i] and as he wasn't the smartest of Goblins he hadn't thought to tell Buddy that when he was looking into poisons.
[i]"Ya kiddin' me?! Why didn't you tell me that earlier? I'll look into this at once!"[/i] Buddy said.
Trip simply remarked, a little taken aback that [i]"You didn't ask me."[/i]
When Buddy pointed out that he [i]did[/i] ask, Trip responded with a [i]"You didn't ask me about this specific mushroom."[/i]
Facepalming aside, Buddy soon found that the mushroom, green and putrid but small in stature, could be used to create a slow poison that, when inflicted by it would slowly start to slow the victim's movements and reactions. Eventually, or in high enough doses, the victim could be rendered paralyzed for a smaller amount of time. Perfect for their needs!

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

[color=gray][Food improving next turn.][/color]

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

[color=darkgray][b]A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other[/b][/color]

[b]Population:[/b] 276 men, 279 women, 86 children.
[indent][i](54 of adult population is of Blackskin Goblin descent)[/i][/indent]
[b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 50% of adult population. 
[b]Food level:[/b] Average [color=gray][i](Improving)[/i][/color]
[b]Resources:[/b] [color=gray]Hardstone (low quantity)[/color], iron, tin.
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Growth:[/b] Base: 8% [i]+0% from food level,[/i] [i]+0% from morale = 8%.[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Indifferent
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] You have not met any other civilizations. [/hider]

[h3][color=violet]Clan Metalbeard[/color][/h3]
[@Lauder]
[Hider=Turn 5][i]"I, err... I'm sorry 'bout earlier."[/i] said Forogh Gloombelly to Ava Shieldbreaker as they journeyed up the mountain. [i]"Dunnae worry."[/i] answered Ava bluntly, still holding her eyes set forward. 
Forogh looked back at the other companions and shrugged. They exchanged glances, but said nothing.
[i]"Up ahead."[/i] said Ava.
The air had gotten cold. Frost had begun to spread across the rocks and the grass and any wayward tree. Up ahead was an alcove, an arch of natural rock making a sort of entryway to the top of the mountain.
The strange thing was that the path up to the mountain was very well defined, as if it had been artificially made but eroded over time. Indeed it seemed that was the case when further up, the company came to the archway. Stone steppes made their way up to the peak easier.

[IMG]http://i63.tinypic.com/29au1ag.jpg[/IMG]

Once through the cold archway, the peak of the mountain was like a crater. Cliff walls welled up on each side with no roof, and up ahead, on the side opposite of the dwarves, was a rock pedestal. No... It was a tomb. The lid of the tomb depicted a dwarven King, and on the short side facing them was a small plaque of bronze. It was engraved with ancient dwarven runes, but the Ironbeards could read them.
[hider=The Tomb][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c1/04/6e/c1046e1983c3a41500e218ebb92ce3f2.jpg[/img][/hider]
[i]"This is it."[/i] said Ava. [i]"This is what the spirits has called upon me to show us."[/i]
Ava walks up to the tomb and reads the plaque outloud.

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

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

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

[hider=Daelin's Axe, Thunderslayer][img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c8/b7/b1/c8b7b1e1bf194c8eafe6b783cc5dcd78.jpg[/img][/hider]

-

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

[color=gray][Iron resource added.][/color]

[color=darkgray][b]A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other[/b][/color]

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

[h3][color=steelblue]The Elven Enclave[/color][/h3]
[@ArisenMoon] [color=red]No post found. Auto dropout: 2/3[/color]
[Hider=Turn 5]With the elves' magic not working, manual foodproduction had to be expanded upon. However, rumours had spread fast and now everyone knew of the spear Saleian had brought back to the settlement. While not many knew of the whole undead deal, elves began noticing Saleian's worry after he ordered new warriors be trained and all expeditions be guarded at all times by no less than three elves-at-arms. Some had begun to think Saleian was just paranoid, seeing as they didn't know he suspected undead foes may lurk somewhere.

[color=gray][Food level settled at Average.][/color]

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

[hider=The dead warriors' armor][IMG]http://i67.tinypic.com/2evd8wh.jpg[/IMG][/hider]

[color=darkgray][b]A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other[/b][/color]

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


[h3][color=darkred]Dominion of Commorragh[/color][/h3]
[@Asura] [color=red]No post found. 1/3[/color]
[hider=Turn 1] 
As the weathered cog neared the shore, there was suddenly a horrific scrape. The wine-dark waves had concealed jagged rocks below. By such bad fortune, the ship's underbelly was breached and it began to take on water. There was no choice now, the dark elves would have to make their landing on the shore here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[b]A) Improve food
B) Improve military technology
C) Improve infrastructure
D) Improve culture
E) Explore
F) Improve resources/technology
G) Prospect the land
H) Expand military
I) Take diplomatic action
X) Other[/b]

[b]Population:[/b] 90 men, 90 women, 30 children.
[b]Livestock:[/b] None.
[b]Military:[/b] No standing military. 30% of population can be drafted as militia.
[b]Food level:[/b] Minimal
[b]Resources:[/b] None
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Growth:[/b] Base: 4% [i]-2% from food level, +0% from morale = 2%.[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Average
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] 
[indent]- You know of no other civilization.[/indent][/hider]


[h3][color=yellowgreen]Tuatha de Cu[/color][/h3]
[@Brithwyr]

[hider=Turn 1]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[/color]

[b]Population:[/b] 120 tomcats, 120 queens, 40 kittens.
[b]Livestock:[/b] None.
[b]Military:[/b] No standing military. 20% of population can be drafted as militia.
[b]Food level:[/b] Minimal
[b]Resources:[/b] None
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Growth:[/b] Base: 5% [i]-2% from food level, +0% from morale = 3%.[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Average
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] 
[indent]- You know of no other civilization.[/indent][/hider]


[h3][color=purple]Kingdom of Alimor[/color][/h3]
[@Chenzor]

[hider=Turn 1]Glad to once more have sacred clay beneath their feet instead of the briny planks of their ships, the Alimorians eagerly constructed a crude settlement from which to base their operations for now, then took the horizons and began surveying the closest parts of their new land. They took note of the various lakes, ponds, and sparse thickets of trees on the plains, but for now they did not venture into the forest or the mountains, nor did they travel too far south. For such journeys, more preparation would be required.

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

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

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

[hider=The scout and the obelisk]
[img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/978f/f/2013/057/3/5/obelisk_by_dirkwachsmuth-d5w9sja.jpg
[/img][/hider]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[b]Population:[/b] 120 men, 120 women, 40 children.
[b]Livestock:[/b] None.
[b]Military:[/b] No standing military. 20% of population can be drafted as militia.
[b]Food level:[/b] Minimal
[b]Resources:[/b] None
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistant
[b]Growth:[/b] Base: 5% [i]-2% from food level, +0% from morale = 3%.[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Average
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] 
[indent]- You know of no other civilization.[/indent][/hider]