[center][h3]Turn 6[/h3]

[hider=The Map]
[img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/378609594030882816/505407163468873750/Map_06.png[/img]
[s]Coming soon![/s]
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[h3][color=crimson]The Levogh[/color][/h3]
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[color=red]((No turn 5 post; your stuff is frozen until you post again.))[/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] 146 men, 143 women, 75 children.
[b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to about 30% of adult population.
[b]Food level:[/b] Average; improving
[b]Resources:[/b] (Potentially magical) moon fungi
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistent
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistent
[b]Growth:[/b] [i]Low; impacted by racial traits.[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Average
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] [color=palegoldenrod]Brotherhood of the Moon's Wise Children: Friendly[/color]
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[h3][color=DarkGray]The Lycan Covenant[/color][/h3]
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The zealots around Vlath nodded at his command and raced off to seize Vera. On their way back to the village, they came across the shattered remnants of the first obelisk. A nearby hunter claimed to have witnessed what happened, and he described near exactly what the zealots had seen earlier when Vlath claimed the second stone: a skeleton buried beneath the monument had erupted from the ground and taken form as a void monster, but this one had immediately made its way to the sea and trudged into the depths with purpose. Doubtless the gods had sent that champion to help stall the advancing tide of monsters out there. But in any case, the zealots quickly told the hunter of their orders to arrest Vera, and he joined them on journey back to Wulfshelm.

As in for Vlath, the formless black visage of the void monster fixated upon his face. Its empty eyes stared with an impassiveness that betrayed nothing, and even as Vlath tried to beg it for forgiveness and offer explanation, it said nothing. It equally offered no answer when he asked for its assistance in going to the next stone, but when Vlath finally broke eye contact with the monster and set out, he turned to see the champion following about five paces back. It remained utterly silent, its steps producing neither sound nor footprints. So the strange duo traveled for several hours until they came upon the third stone, and then Vlath began his work claiming this one as well.

Much like before, the black cracks spread like wildfire across the obelisk's surface while a fount of eldritch power surged out from within. The Voidcaller was ready this time when the stone exploded, but even as he took cover from the flying bits of stone and the worst of the magical fallout, the power of the gods dragged him once more into the plane of dreams. The Void Gods spoke to him yet again, every word wracking his mind and shaking his sanity.

[color=purple][b][i]Ẇ̵͓̳̈́E̵̙͙͗ ̷̨̺̅̏D̴̡̍Ô̷̭ ̵̢̗̐̊F̶̧͈̀O̷̡͑R̷͓̜͂͌G̴̛̭͊I̸̠̒V̸̖͍͌Ē̵̟[/i][/b][/color] howled one of their deafening whispers. [color=purple][b][i]Ö̷͕̝́̏R̶͓̽ ̴̨͕̆̈F̵̟͖͘O̸͎̓̾R̸̞̠̿͌G̷̘͝Ĕ̴̢T̸̫͖͂[/i][/b][/color]

The throbbing of his head intensified until it came to a climax and he could [i]feel[/i] the icy shards of each syllable piercing him with utter clarity.

[hider=Their decree][color=purple][h3][b][i]AND YOU WILL EARN OUR GRACE ONCE MORE, OR YOU WILL COME TO KNOW THE TRUE MEANING OF DESPAIR.

YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY ENEMIES, AND WE ONLY GUARD YOU FROM WHAT STIRS BELOW THE SEA; UPON THE LAND WE SEE THOSE WHO BUILT THESE STONES, AND WHEN THEY LEARN OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO THEIR WRETCHED STONES, THEIR RAGE SHALL BE TERRIBLE. 

BY THEIR HANDS WILL YOU COME TO KNOW PAIN AND SUFFERING AND DEATH, AND IF YOU SURVIVE THIS TRIAL, YOU WILL BE STRONGER. PROVEN. MADE WORTHY ONCE MORE.[/i][/b][/h3][/color][/hider]

Vlath was banished from the dream. The thunderous voices of his gods gave way to the sensations of true thunder and his own drenched fur, and as he came to his senses he saw that the storms had grown even more powerful. This third stone had seen his gods empowered once more. As he rose to his feet, he saw that there now stood two void monsters before him, the new one having crawled out from beneath this third stone. From what the gods had just told him of yet another enemy, it seemed as though the covenant would need the two champions. This path of faithful worship had granted them great power, but it was coming at a considerable cost. But now it was far too late to change their path, so they would have to steel their resolve and make preparations.

[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] 134 men, 133 women, 61 pups.
[b]Livestock:[/b] Small number of rabbits
[b]Military:[/b] 2 void monsters. Militia able to be conscripted up to about 30% of adult population.
[b]Food level:[/b] Slightly below average; being improved
[b]Resources:[/b] Lumber (low quantity; increasing)
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistent
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistent
[b]Growth:[/b] [i]Low; impacted from food level and morale.[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Low; due to endless rains
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] None
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[h3][color=lightblue]Attolia[/color][/h3]
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After much effort, the aurochs had finally been domesticated to a point that they could be called cattle rather than wild beasts. The cows had become docile enough to allow the Attolians to take their excess milk (though it was still almost exclusively wood elves that were brave enough to do this) and the bulls no longer attacked unless truly provoked. Their food situation was now considerably better, and if that wasn't cause enough for celebration, distributing the fifty pounds of gold had been met with much happiness as well. It seemed as though things were now truly going well for the Attolians in this new home. Salvdal did not seem much perturbed by the greater society's rejection of his mentality regarding the spirits, and now the only true debate was what was to be done with the cattle. Many among the Attolians wanted to use the gold bestowed upon them to buy some of the animals, and some of the especially skilled craftsmen (and hunters, like Salvdal) had already earned considerable amounts of money and stood to be able to purchase a large portion of the cattle. Others thought that the cattle would be best kept as a communal resource owned by the entire tribe, and some of the wood elves meanwhile argued that since they had been the ones to domesticate the animals, they should be the ones to the own them. All of these disputes would have to be sorted out in the next Communion.

But then there was the festival of lights. Lady Saphira and the other shamans put on a display so great that even some of the animal spirits came as an audience, and as all had hoped, some of the animals seemed so enthralled that they chose to stay as guardian spirits. They walked day and night, unseen by most, but a discerning and faithful eye could draw comfort from the occasional glimpse. With such success, it was not long before an even more grandiose performance was requested, but this time there was a different outcome. There were not just animals drawn from the spirit world, but even some lonely shades that took the shapes of elves. Some looked among the spirits and claimed to recognize their own ancestors, and almost all immediately fell to their knees in reverence...all except for Lady Saphira. She reached out to one of the shady spirits, and it reached back with a spindly finger...

Caelis had only a split second to react.

[color=gray]A) Stop her immediately; you don't know what forces you're dealing with, and this could be dangerous.
B) Trust in Lady Saphira, it looks as though she's about to become one with the spirits of her ancestors!
X) Other.[/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] 132 men, 132 women, 71 children.
[b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
[b]Livestock:[/b] A large herd of cattle
[b]Food level:[/b] Above Average
[b]Resources:[/b] Horses (A small number)
[b]Wealth:[/b] 250 pounds of gold; some precious jewels
[b]Trade:[/b] Some internal trade, facilitated by currency
[b]Growth:[/b] [i]Average; impacted by racial traits, good food level, and good morale.[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Above average (from treasure)
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] None
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[h3][color=darkgreen]The ap-Cantar[/color][/h3]
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The company of eleven, and Tara, travelled for long. With their faces covered and the wicker shields providing cover, the ash was not too troublesome, and so long as they followed the Tala they knew they were heading slowly but surely towards the mountains. And when they passed by the ruins of the village of Sit, Hiwcantar declared that on their return he would see to it that the town was restored and its fields sown and its waters filled with fishermen again. Not long thereafter they crossed town of the Mewaris, though the great River Tala was between them and the ash rain too thick for its inhabitants to see ten travellers and a child.  And Hiwcantar declared that the ultimate fate of the Mewaris was destruction, though they knew it little. 

They continued upriver for many days, and the more they travelled the deeper the ash became. They pressed on, trudging through the ash and passing the occasional cluster of adobe hovels and other small villages. Even with the ash rain they could sense the change in their surroundings as the land grew rockier, less fertile, less populated and more savage. This far up the Tala, the great floodplains and rolling hills of Tilaticantar gave way to plateaus and crags. Their progress was slow due to the ash and the rugged terrain that they traveled, and their journey would be a long one for it was said that it took many days to follow the river all the way to its head at the center of the world.

In these sparse lands, some of the lone dwellings and villages were abandoned. The inhabitants had perhaps been among those that joined the Mewari so long ago, or had perhaps succumbed to disease or hunger and died alone for living without any neighbors or community. To the living it mattered little; Hiwcantar and his men took shelter in the abandoned homes that they came across and were grateful for the respite. Here, closer to the mountains, the ash was significantly deeper than in distant Tilaticantar. Though the low rumbling had ceased by the end of a fortnight and the rains of ash began to dwindle, the land here was still buried and suffocated. It had been well over a week's hard journeying, and yet they were still not even close to the Tala's head or to the heart of those mountains where the fire giants dwelled and from whence the ash spewed. The land was bare of animals of any kind, and the ash buried even the hope of vegetation, and so they subsisted largely on what good the ever-giving Tala offered them. When the group made camp after a long day's travelling - and the ap-Cantar were masters of such things - three men would immediately take rods and nets and begin fishing. There were more dead and withered trees here due to the hotter ash, their branches broke easily and made good firewood. Some nights they ate fish, other nights they found themselves chewing on lizards or frogs. On one particular occasion the tall lithe warrior called Sruga managed to bring in a monitor of truly monstrous proportions, and they feasted on that. The Tala was indeed a kindly and giving mother, worthy of veneration were it not so that GREAT Cantar alone was worthy of such things.

No one had ever reached the Tala's head and returned, of this salient fact the riverfolk had many evidences and proofs and tales - tales of the foolishness and arrogance of those who thought to challenge the river and the giants at the mountaintops. But Hiwcantar had no fear of such things - his heart flowed with the blood of the mighty, destiny marched in step with him, and wherever he turned his gaze surely - [i]surely[/i] - the world itself would give way and surrender its secrets and allow him what it allowed none before. He would reached the head of the Tala and the 'centre of the world' that the riverfolk spoke of, and the world would yield willingly to him...

So it was that they eventually came upon Qidra, the last of the Tala's riverside villages. Beyond Qidra there were only great waterfalls, jagged mountains, and (if the riverfolk's legends were to be believed) a great cave whose bowels were the underworld and whose mouth was the source of the Tala. From a crag in whose shadow the village lay, Hiwcantar and his company observed Qidra for some time. There was very little ash falling now - the odd piece floated here or there like a lost sheep, and so the village could be seen clearly. Hiwcantar sent one of his companions, the tall riverfolk warrior named Sruga, to observe the village up close and make contact with its people.
And so the lithe warrior descended, spear in hand and [url=https://i.imgur.com/lJIgcyR.png?1]wicker shield[/url] atop his head. The people of Tilaticantar had taken more and more to wearing these shield upon their heads to protect against the ash, but Sruga had so grown to like it that he continued to wear it now even though there was no great amount of ash rain. As he approached the village he brought his flowing garments tighter about him and hailed a group of women busy washing clothes in the Tala.
'You there by the river!' he called out from a distance.

They turned and eyed him suspiciously, for these were dire straits and even in normal times it was not often that Qidra saw visitors. At least they did not run from the lone stranger, though. "Who are you, and what has brought you here?" an elderly woman answered.
'I am Sruga of Tilati, the final town before the Sea of Souls swallows the earth. I am travelling to the head of the Tala with my friends. We wish to know what has caused this black scourge,' and he gestured to the ash that even now suffocated the earth.

"You know as well as I that the giants are rousing; but we have offered them prayer and left tribute for them on the mountain slopes, and now their anger seems to have subsided." Sruga looked to the mountains and then back to the old woman.
'But if they are waking, as you say, surely this tribute you have given them will not calm them for long. We must travel and speak with them and see what it is that they want truly - for if they are displeased with you, all the people of the Tala will suffer when they descend with fire and fury. Are there any among you who know the mountains well and can mayhaps guide us?'

The girls and younger women looked to the older one that had spoken, but she only shook her head. "That is the talk of madness. Never before have the giants brought forth so much ash. This time it will not be one or two that have roused, but perhaps all of them! The wise will flee down the river; we shall abandon our homes and do so as soon as it is safe." Sruga frowned at this.
'Lady, you seem to be the authority in this here town. On the mountain there is the master of the people of the Tala. If you will walk with me a while he would speak with you. He is a man in communion with the greatest god, surely he will have wisdom for those who seek it.'

"It is my husband who rules," she answered with a scoff. "And he can be found in the largest hut." With that she gathered up the bundle of clothes that she had been washing. And the others did likewise, and then they all returned to their village. Sruga watched them go and, satisfied that this village posed no danger, rushed back up the crag and informed Hiwcantar of what the old lady had said. The ten men, and Tara, descended to the village and came before the great hut. The denizens of Qidra looked at Hiwcantar and a few of the other ap-Cantars with astonishment - not in living memory had they seen people whose skin was not as the mud of the Tala!
'This is Hiwcantar,' Sruga declared, 'lord of Tilaticantar, the town of GREAT Cantar. He is the great chieftain of the ap-Cantar, the one who forged the great union 'twixt the riverfolk and the ap-Cantar. He is the destroyer of Mewar the traitor, and he is master of the Tala and all who call it home. Whom he protects need fear naught, and whom he condemns have all to fear. He travels to the source of the Tala and to the the fire giants - if he finds them worthy he will speak with them, and if they are an enemy then he shall smite them utterly. He would speak with you and assure your fearful hearts.' Tara on his shoulder, Hiwcantar stepped forward and raised his hand in greeting to the man who now stood at the entrance of the great hut.

'I salute you - what are you called, chieftain?'

"Dawuut!" declared the elderly man. "And I know nothing of Cantar, nor Tilaticantar, and neither of this Mewar. But I do know that yours is a doomed mission, for you could never defeat the giants. Already we have overstayed our welcome, for their mercy cannot be bought forever."

'Know this, chief Dawuut: I have travelled far. I have travelled from where the great Tala spills out into the Sea of Souls; travelled from where the Tala herself ceases to be. Even there did ash descend from on high. Our suffering was surely nothing as to yours, but running will not save you from it. But here - if you are determined to flee, then make Tilaticantar your destination. There is food to be found and safety - only tell my people when you arrive that my journey continues and that I will return victorious. And do this for me also: grant me a brave child of this town - man or woman - who knows the mountains well and can be our guide. Do this for me and I will prove to you that he is not doomed who has GREAT Cantar at his back and in his heart.'

"I shall consider Tilaticantar, then. But we have no guide for you; I would not send one of my sons or daughters to their doom, and none know the mountains anyways. Already they call us mad for dwelling so close to the giants and underworld; those who have ventured farther than this have rarely returned. It is not a land fit for the living, much less for man." Hiwcantar looked around at the gathered denizens of Qidra and wondered if there truly was no adventuring and worthy soul that had dared climb the mountains and explore all they offered.
'Very well, chief Dawuut. Know that my request for a brave guide stands until the morrow. We shall make camp by the Tala and continue our journey at dawn. May GREAT Cantar protect you and guide you to safety - and if your hearts are bent on leaving, then do not delay; it is indeed the corruption of a judgement to delay.' And with that Hiwcantar and his companions turned and departed. Tara, seated on her father's shoulder, scanned the villagers with her dark brown eyes, her face betraying little emotion.

They ate silently and eventually the men went to sleep. Hiwcantar stayed by the fire and stoked it, glancing at the village from time to time. Tara slept peacefully beside him, his cloak around her. When the sun rose in the distant east, no guide had offered their services, and so the company ate and began the journey into the mountains and what the riverfolk thought was the underworld. Hiwcantar had no fear of this purported underworld, however. The only underworld was that ruled by GREAT Cantar, and that was the Sea of Souls. All would soon come unveiled, and the truth would manifest itself...

They went on for a day, hiking up the increasingly rugged slopes. At least some parts were so steep that the ash had rolled down before it could settle in very deep. There was a waterfall not far from Qidra, but without any knowledge of the land, it took half a day to simply find the remnants of a goat path and climb their way to the top. When they did, they prepared their night's camp on a bluff that seemed to overlook the entire world to their south. Or at least far enough to see the diminutive huts of Qidra down below. They rested when the sun fell, but then a glow roused their attention and they looked down to see the settlement aflame. Sruga looked to Hiwcantar with a degree of worry.
'Should we... go back?' The tall warrior asked. Hiwcantar frowned down at the sight, but it was Tara who spoke.
'They were cowards and unworthy.' It was a simple statement,  and the damning indictment in it hung between them in the cold night mountain air for a few moments. Hiwcantar shook his head.
'We heard nothing and saw nothing. There was no attack by fire giants. The village was normal, and suddenly it was aflame. The only reason that comes to my mind is that the villagers burned it to the ground themselves because they are departing. It may be something else of course, but it certainly was [i]not[/i] fire giants. We will rest as planned and continue our journey in the morning.' And so the others went back to sleep and Hiwcantar and Tara sat watching the burning settlement far below. 

Their trek continued after dawn, the plateaus and crags giving way to true mountains, and wooded ones at that. Two nights later they saw numerous distant lights farther down the mountain pass, back where they had been on the previous night. Puzzled by this, for they had seen no lights at all in the nights before this, Hiwcantar sat and thought over what to do. As he watched, it looked as though the lights were moving. They steadily came closer, as if more or less following the very same path that the ap-Cantar had taken. Looking around, he gestured for the others to bring a great amount of wood and build a great fire. Once the fire was built he ordered them to disperse in the crevices and woods around, where they could see but not be seen. Though he attempted to make Tara go with Sruga, she adamantly refused to leave his side. And so, with his daughter at his side, feeding the great fire, Hiwcantar sat and waited for the lights and their people to arrive.

Throughout the night, the lights steadily came closer, though their pace indeed seemed to quicken once Hiwcantar had made a show of creating such a blazing beacon along the trail. As the lights came nearer, they could discern each individual one and recognize them as torches. They looked down the slope and Tara counted the torches: ten, twenty, thirty. Hefting his spear, Hiwcantar rose and looked at the approaching torches. Under normal circumstances he would have stood and waited, but his Tara was with him and the idea that those coming up may wish her harm caused him no small degree of consternation. He lifted Tara to his shoulder and walked a few steps up the mountain and lodged his spear beneath a large rock. If these fire-wielding people coming up did indeed mean them harm, he would lever the rock down into the blaze and escape upward. The others, watching from safety, would surely understand and do likewise. And the darkness of the mountain woodlands would grant them an advantage - to hunt at their leisure to hide for as long as they needed to. Breathing deeply, the chief steadied himself and did not allow his fear to show before his daughter.
 
They waited and watched as the approaching figures drew ever closer, and soon enough the faint silhouette of humanoid figures could be seen below, illuminated by torchlight. For every one that held a torch, there were two or three others around him; almost all seemed to carry a spear or bow upon their back or some smaller weapon at their side, and there was surely more than a hundred of these strange men climbing the mountain, more than the entire population of that hamlet called Qidra. And even with all the night's darkness, they could discern that in the middle of the line there were a great number of riverfolk bound to one another; their dark flesh in sharp contrast to the paler faces of they who carried the torches and weapons. But Hiwcantar on his high ground did not have the luxury of watching for long, as he quickly heard the sound of footsteps. A smaller group of the men were sneaking ahead of the rest with only the moonlight showing them where to step, and without the torches to betray their presence from afar, they had managed to nearly make it to Hiwcantar's fire before being detected. It was Tara who spotted them, for Hiwcantar was distracted by the great numbers he saw. 'Da, they're on us.' The girl whispered. Hiwcantar's eyes registered the prowlers in the darkness, and with a burst of power he heaved.
The rock hurtled into the flame, sending out huge sparks and burning wood. It gave him a much needed distraction; without waiting, Hiwcantar turned and disappeared into the gloom above. Even as he quietly shifted directions now left and now right, now back to where he had been and then elsewhere, his quick mind thought on how to make the best of this grim situation. It was very likely that these - what, slavers? - knew how many were in his company - they had not made a great effort to cover their trail after all -, so there was little chance of tricking them into thinking there were more in his company than there truly were.

He ran up the mountain then doubled back and more carefully made his way in an easterly direction. Finding a crevice, he lay in it and listened, gripping his spear and ready to fight. There was shouting and cursing; he could tell now that these humanoid figures were indeed men, though they had a strange and foreign accent. The small group that had crept up to the fire under cover of darkness seemed to search the area for any hiding enemies, but none of the ap-Cantar were caught and the men didn't seem to look particularly hard. The main body soon caught up and came to stop for a few moments. From their hiding positions, some of the ap-Cantar could recognize the captive riverfolk as being the former inhabitants of Qidra. Some of the ragged and despondent people fell to their knees when their march was brought to a halt, where they wailed or panted or just rested in broken silence. But soon enough there was the sound of more shouting mixed with cries of pain, and then the army was on the march once more. It seemed as if they hadn't even taken the fire or the ap-Cantar ambushers as worth pursuing or as a serious threat. As they passed by where Tara and Hiwcantar were hidden, the two carefully looked up and watched the marching force.

A long procession of rugged-looking men walked by. Most had at least some sort of mismatched metal armor, though in many cases the pieces were visibly rusted or damaged. They had probably slain some enemies and looted the equipment for themselves. Others wore only the sort of light-colored and lightly weighed robes that desert wanderers favored. Near the middle of the procession, just a short ways ahead of the line of captive riverfolk, there was [i]one[/i] man that stood out, if he even was a man. He wore a sort of garb that none of the ap-Cantar had ever before seen; it was a heavy black robe complete with a cloak and hood, though that hood was lowered and bunched up by his neck. He had a beard of long, scraggly white and grey hairs that might have betrayed him for a man of fifty or sixty, but his gait somehow seemed to have a youthful vigor and strength to it even after such an arduous hike. And from the way that all the others gave him a wide berth and the riverfolk seemed too terrified to even look at his back, Hiwcantar and Tara knew that this strange man was the leader of these bandits.

His forward pacing suddenly came to a halt when he felt their eyes upon him. He turned to look into the woods, gazing right for Hiwcantar and Tara, and they caught but a glimpse of his eyes before they ducked out of sight. The two baleful orbs had glowed red like dying coals. The mere sight of the man caused an immediate sense of dread to well up within Hiwcantar. There was no doubt in his mind that those two red eyes had a great deal to do with the burning of Qidra, and he had little desire to burn tonight. Grabbing Tara, he leapt into the undergrowth and made a swift escape from the crevice. He had the strange feeling that at any moment now the woodland and rocks around them would burst aflame - though perhaps that was simply the effect of seeing those two strange eyes.

They remained hidden until morning, and when the sun rose Hiwcantar and Tara slowly and carefully made their way back to where their camp had been. The others were waiting there. 'By GREAT Cantar,' Sruga said, 'who were those?'
'Looked like slavers to me,' Guldandar said, and the others murmured their agreement. Tara mentioned the strange man and spoke of a nightmare. She had been in an utterly dark place, but it was stiflingly hot rather than cold, and damp like some cave. But then in the dark, there had been two great, burning red eyes that had appeared. They had scared her even more than the robed man's, but by instinct she had laid utterly still and silent. In her dream the eyes could not see her, and eventually morning had come and she had awoken. And to give her story credence, Hiwcantar had indeed noticed that his sleeping daughter had appeared nearly comatose until the moment that she had suddenly snapped awake once more. He questioned her on these eyes - to what kind of creature did they belong? Did she know where these eyes were? Were they a thing of the spirit or the physical world? Tara shrugged.

'I don't know da. They were big. Big as a man's head. They were... more monstrous than the man's eyes.' Frowning Hiwcantar sat down and wondered at the meaning of all this. The Qidra chieftain had told him that few had ever returned from these mountains, that the mission was doomed. Then that monstrous being and his army had sacked the village (though Cantar only knew from where they had emerged). And now Tara was having visions of a monster with eyes the size of men's heads. Were anymore signs needed that only danger lay ahead? His eyes hardened and he gripped his spear.
'We are not a coward race. GREAT Cantar looks with favour only on the worthy.' And so lifting Tara to his shoulder, he gestured his men forth. The journey to the heart of the mountains would go on, and GREAT Cantar would find them worthy and guide them.

Aware of the danger the mountains offered, the group now progressed more carefully. The great trail left by the marching army ensured that their own trail was hidden, but despite this Hiwcantar had the group take extra precautions so that their presence was nigh imperceivable. Tara continued to have the visions of the eyes, and Hiwcantar would hold her close every night, whispering prayers and words of comfort. When she awoke, however, her eyes were steely and she did not let show her fear. As they went farther into the ranges, the mountains themselves seemed to grow more primal and savage. The flora and fauna were more vicious and so the ap-Cantar band stuck together out of an abundance of caution. Food and water were beginning to grow scarcer as well.

After several more days of travel, it seemed as though their luck was being tested once more. During the night they heard a distant shuffling, and soon their ears could discern the sound of sniffing. Heavy footsteps approached their camp, and in the moonlight they could see a hideous beast.

[hider=Though it walked on two legs and carried a club, it was no man][img]https://i.redditmedia.com/5f_ytQ2eLYt1W95pjJ1uHiZD6Aq5axMXpEHq9A8gPUM.jpg?w=320&s=8c71eeb1af75425d27f26aa2dc75e673[/img][/hider]

Hiwcantar stood and put the deathly, still dreaming Tara behind him. He gestured for the others to fan out and stand at the ready. 'Hail, you who walks in the moonlight,' Hiwcantar called out, 'friend be ye or foe?' His grip on his spear tightened, and he prepared for the worst.

"Hwagh!" the red beast roared as it leaped closer and brandished its crude weapon. Hiwcantar flinched and almost struck out, but the creature then said something he understood. "Little humans!"

The beast's burning eyes found its way to Tara, even as she lay on the shadowy ground in her deep slumber. "She has His mark, I smell it," he grunted, "but the rest of you look like good meat!" Hiwcantar's nostrils flared and he scowled.
'Our meat is good for one thing alone, demon - choking your ilk!' And so saying he leapt forth and struck out, and his ten warriors likewise advanced. Hiwcantar's first lunge missed, as the pot-bellied beast moved quickly for all its bulk. Then even as it used a few wild swings of its club to fend off Hiwcantar, the beast suddenly curled its empty hand into a ball. Fire instantly took form in its palm, and from the gaps in its fist there were were a few glowing embers. That brief glimpse was the only warning that Hiwcantar's men had before they too tried to strike, but the demon was ready. It hurled flames as a child hurled fistfuls of sand, but these flames were a deadlier thing and fended off his assailants.

Yet even though they had put it on the defensive by striking first and with their greater numbers, the monster hardly seemed afraid of the ap-Cantar. It broke into some savage fit of what seemed to be hissing and coughing, but to their horror, the ap-Cantar soon realized it to be laughter. "You put up a good fight when one wild oni comes! But what would you do against ten of His warriors?"

'You gloat much about this "Him", demon, but it is clear you are little more than a rogue. Pray tell, what would this "Him" do to the likes of you if you were brought before it?' Hiwcantar and his warriors circled the oni even as the chief spoke, ready to dodge anymore of the flames and strike again if the creature showed anymore signs of aggression. To its credit, it didn't let any circle around to its back, and it held the many humans at bay with a few wide swings of its club. 
"He might try to make me join his army, cut me up into little bits if I run away. But I wouldn't stay dead! Not like soft humans!"
'Ah! So this "Him" is not a friend of yours I see - an enemy perhaps? A tyrant? Why do you not serve this "Him" as the other warriors do?'

The questions seemed to be quickly irritating the boorish creature. "Not fight for kings! Not share with others!" Hiwcantar realized that the creature wasn't even looking straight at him, more over his shoulder. He followed the gaze and found the beast's stare directed upon Tara's deathly still form. But then all the noise seemed to do something, and she shifted over in her sleep.


[indent][indent][i]The burning red eyes still flitted back and forth, peering through the darkness. Tara endured his nightmare silently and as fearlessly as she could, willing herself to remain deathly still and hardly even breathe lest the great monster's eyes find her. She had to shut her eyes and wait just as she had done for the past nights, waiting until she felt morning's sun and knew that she was once again in the world of the awake. Only then was she safe from Him.

So she waited, but in the back of her mind, she could hear the voice of Hiwcantar. There was a din, and...shouting...

"Da'," she murmured just barely loud enough to be heard. She instantly realized her mistake and brought her hands to cover her mouth, but by then it was too late. She didn't need to open her eyes to see the two blazing coals staring into her; their glower was bright enough that she could see and feel it even as she brought her hands up from her mouth and tried to cover her eyes.

[b]"There you are,"[/b] she heard. The words were only whispers, but even in that low voice she could discern the tone of a diabolical rumble. She was still for a few moments, her hand trembling and her lip quivering, and she remembered with sudden clarity the mind-numbing fear that had gripped her when the man she had killed stepped into the adobe home. Clenching her fist and pursing her lips, she opened her now-hardened eyes and stared into the demon's eyes.
'I am not afraid,' she said simply, and the words gave her conviction even though her heart was hammering and she could barely stop her hands from trembling again. 'I am not afraid of you!'

[b]"Good,"[/b] the voice purred back, no longer so quiet. The darkness had impeded her perception and she hadn't quite realized just how far away the monster had been, but as the eyes grew larger she could tell that it was coming much closer. Its heavy footsteps echoed upon the hard floor as it kept coming closer. [b]"You have a fiery spirit about you that I like. There is potential in you, and I can help you find it. What is your name, child?"[/b] She resisted the voice at the back of her mind that screamed at her to turn and flee, to find anywhere, any rock or stone under which to hide. But she culled her fear and stood steadfast as her father had taught her.
'My name is Tara, daughter to Hiwcantar. GREAT Cantar protects my people and me. And what is yours?'
[b]"This 'Cantar' that you esteem is nothing but a departed memory, his protection imaginary. But I am real, and mine endless! I have become the Kunshu, king of kings, and my former name means nothing now. But you, Tara, have a name with power. And now there is a bit more power to it! So return to the one that you called father; we shall meet again soon."[/b]
'If your name means nothing, then that is all you are and all you'll ever be. You say GREAT Cantar is merely a departed memory, but how can you be [i]anything[/i] without memory? And can you have power if you are nothing?' His echoing laughter shook the dark hall with such force that it roused her back into the waking world.[/i][/indent][/indent]

Tara opened her eyes. She was still for a few moments, noting the cold ground... and the lack of her father near. 'Da?' She cried out and sat up, and she saw the large demon and the eleven warriors fanned out about it.
'I'm here sweetest. Are... are you alright? You moved.' She jumped up and closed the distance between Hiwcantar and her, grabbing a fistful of his clothes with a hand.
'I'm alright da. Is this a fire giant?' She gestured to the oni, and he flinched just a little bit from it as if afraid of some power behind the motion. His gaze had been following her unblinkingly until that moment, and he let out a sudden growl. It was the only warning Hiwcantar had before the creature grabbed him from behind and threw him to the side. He approached her and said, "Little namanari, He's gonna want to see you. He might reward me if I take you to him, so come with me! I serve the oni kings again just this once!" Tara scowled and backed away.
'No, I already saw him.' She turned and ran to Hiwcantar, who was already rising to his feet. With Tara at his side again, he hefted his spear and threw it at the oni with all his might, and it buried itself in the beast's shoulder. It twisted its head to face Hiwcantar then, and roared, and charged as a wounded beast was wont to do. Hiwcantar saw his warriors react, but he feared the beast's tremendous form would crush Tara if he allowed it to come too close, and so he let loose a great cry and charged at it also. It swept him off his feet with ease even as spears rained down on its back, and it fell upon him with tooth and claw even as Sruga and Guldandar leapt on it and speared its neck and the back of its head. After suffering what would have been enough injuries to slay five men, it finally let out a dying howl and fell upon Hiwcantar. But even as the unconscious chief was pinned and crushed beneath the body, the oni's blood began to coagulate and crystallize into sickly red pebbles, and its flesh and the organs that cascaded from its wound all began to slowly disintegrate into dust and ash. Still, the others pulled the unnatural abomination off their chief and looked to him.

The great chief was battered and bloodied and still, and Tara cried out in fear and great alarm as she came to him and tried to wake him. His shield, which had been covering his head, was torn to shreds and there were clear gashes on his bearded face and atop his head where the demon had torn into him with abandon. His shoulders and chest had been shorn by razor talons, though as luck would have it his neck was free of major wounds due to Hiwcantar having brought his arms up to protect it. When Sruga felt for a pulse, he found that it was weak but defiantly there. They swiftly got to wiping the blood away  from the unconscious chief and stitching up the wounds. Tara stayed by him throughout, her lips pursed and her brown eyes wide - they would from time to time glisten with the promise of tears, but before any could blossom her eyes would harden and any nascent tears would shrivel away. The night was dark and there was no fire, and the ap-Cantar sat around their chief and prayed that he would awaken.

[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] 161 men, 304 women, 124 children.
[b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 40% of adult population.
[b]Food level:[/b] Above average
[b]Resources:[/b] None
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistent
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistent
[b]Growth:[/b] [i]Average[/i] (influenced by food level and recent events)
[b]Morale:[/b] Below Average (Discontent due to ashfall)
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] None
[/hider]

[h3][color=purple]The Mustaqilun Tribe[/color][/h3]
[hider]

For several days the shamans prodded at the firestones and examined the properties of the mysterious gems. The things weren't especially conductive to any sort of magic that they shamans tried to cast, but they nonetheless began to grow aware of a dark aura that the things gave off just as much as they radiated heat. It was something dark and twisted, and it brought back memories of the Dark One that they had once served and of some of the horrible cursed weapons that been wrought from his forges. The gems were especially brittle and seemed to break and crumble into a dust if one tried to simply mine them or pry them from the cavern walls. Heating the dust (or the gems themselves) seemed to have little effect, though in all fairness they could hardly heat the gems. Lacking any true furnace and any fuel that burned hotter than firewood, the orcs had no means of smelting their newly mined copper, zinc, and arsenic; nor or experimenting with exposing these firestones to a high temperature. Some wanted to fell trees and then turn the lumber into great amounts of charcoal using large kilns.

But perhaps there was something else to be done...the shamans had noted that when the miner had cut himself upon one of the firestones and lost his fingers, a few drops of his blood had been smeared onto the stone. It was hardly enough to even see, yet that particular stone still glowed brighter than any of the others. So the shamans had one of the pigs slaughtered and poured a great deal of its blood upon the firestones, and lo and behold, they glowed a bright red and exuded an infernal heat that no coal brazier could ever hope to match. In that fiery state, the firestones also became malleable and nearly gooey. Eager to experiment further, one of the shamans cut his own hand and poured his blood upon the stones, and they glowed even brighter. It seemed as though the magical stones had a hunger for blood, but that they had their preferences and were not nearly as satiated by the essence of mere animals. Something in the back of the shamans' minds made them suspect that the blood of innocents would create an even more potent reaction.

But in any case, this strange reaction to blood had all but confirmed their suspicions that the stones were of a dark and possibly demonic nature. How they had come to be down there was an intriguing and somewhat worrying question, but brushing that aside, perhaps these firestones could be put to use fueling furnaces, or even worked themselves. Several of the smiths were eager to try working the strange substance into weapons, but they of course awaited permission from Rukdug and the shamans before attempting any such feat. One of the shamans returned to the surface to report his findings to Rukdug. He then quickly led the chief down into the depths of the cavern to demonstrate the power of the firestones, but lo and behold, they returned to the chamber to find...nobody. All of the other shamans that had been down there were gone, and all of the great crystalline firestones had been brutally smashed. The dust upon the floor was probably still usable now that they knew the secret of how it could be worked using blood, but the disappearance of the shamans was extremely alarming. There was no sign whatsoever of any struggle, and none of the miners in the tunnels above reported having heard any shouting.

Over the course of the next few days, there were two hunting parties that similarly seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. After the incident with Morog, the tribe had been careful to stay in sizable groups and remain alert for any predators, so that so many could disappear so quickly was beyond alarming. Between the hunters and the shamans, there were fifteen missing orcs. Riverforge nearly immediately went on lockdown with none venturing far from the cave-dwelling or cliffside hovels and extra guards posted on the riverside walls. By night, the occasional howling of wolves could be heard; that was strange, since in all this time the hunters had neither seen nor heard many wolves in these parts of the mountains.

Some of the watchers even felt like they were being observed when they stood out there at night. Some whispered that this might be the work of demons, and other suspected it might be the vengeful ghosts of those child-like skeletons Rukdug had found, or perhaps the living kin of those creatures. After a few days there was one sign; near the walls, on the [i]inside[/i] of Riverforge, a shiny metal object was spotted gleaming in the morning sun as the guards switched shifts. It was a small iron disc with a few sharp, symmetric protrusions on the sides. Was it an insignia? A warning?

And what was to be done?

[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] 178 men, 192 women, 89 children.
[b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 60% of adult population.
[b]Livestock:[/b] Numerous untamed boars
[b]Food level:[/b] Below Average; improving
[b]Resources:[/b] River stones (small amount; being gradually depleted), [i][color=crimson]Firestones (magical gem/ore)[/color] (small quantity), [color=gray]copper, zinc, and arsenic[/color][/i] (decent amount; not yet being worked or smelted into alloys)
[b]Wealth:[/b] Some semi-precious gemstones
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistent
[b]Growth:[/b] [i]Low; impacted from low food level.[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Low; impacted by 15 missing people
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] None
[/hider]

[h3][color=orange]Orr'gavol: The Hammersworn[/color][/h3]
[hider]

Even in the dead of winter when the snows piled waist high, dwarven determination was a force to be reckoned with. On makeshift sleds they slow began to haul lumber and stone to the chosen site at the base of the mountain pass, and there the master masons and builders toiled to clear away the snows and begin to lay the foundations of a fortification. Rations were stretched and inordinate amounts of manpower were put into the project, but a steely resolve gave them the drive to work on. The Union of Silver were faced with an equally arduous task.  If it was of any consolation, at least the iron mine had been a quick success. Large volumes of the ore were there in the mountain wall, but without the finished road there had been only small volumes of ore transported back to the hovel, and they still lacked the infrastructure to smelt and forge it into anything of use.

Construction of both the road and the mountain fortress was going painfully slowly and was drawn out for weeks, and then disaster struck. There was a shrill shriek that echoed from the mountain slopes above and recoiled upon the flats. The dwarves looked up and saw nothing more than dreary gray clouds bringing in snows and the faint silhouette of some sort of gargantuan bird. But as they looked closer, they realized that the bird was flying at an incredible height, and even still it looked huge. It circled high above their fortress just once, leering down with an ominous gaze that made some quiver. And then with a second shriek, it suddenly went into a dive, and as it neared them they could see that it was an eagle of ungodly proportions.

[hider=Bane of Dwarves]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/GqzJOLj.jpg[/img]
[i]It moved so fast that it was nearly a blur, and in its first swoop its seized up one of the masons in its cruel talons. Then, completely unhindered by his weight, the bird soared back up and then dove down once again.[/i][/center][/hider]

The proud dwarves were reduced to mere animals, to prey; they screamed and scattered like insects, taking shelter beneath trees or trying to lie flat and bury themselves in the snow to hide from the beast. One heroic lumberjack, brave to the point of stupidity, tried to hurl and axe at it. The bird buffeted the flying thing away with one mighty flap of its wing, and then it was suddenly upon that warrior skewering him upon its beak and hurling the dwarf's disemboweled carcass through the air. It seized another two, then began to fly away towards the gap in the mountains. There no less than five of the miners had heard the bird's cries and climbed out of the mine's tunnels to see the commotion. Left exposed on the narrow path, they had nowhere to run when it flew straight for them. It grabbed yet another in one of its talons, then used its wings to batter the other four off the cliffside and down into the ravine below. Then there was suddenly another unnatural sound growing in intensity.

From within the grips of the beast's cruel talons, young Kadol writhed and struggled to no avail. He and the other three dwarves looked down in terror and despair, thinking this their end, but then the strange sound grew so loud that it shook the sky. The bird shrieked in pain; Kadol looked down to the path, and sure enough, he saw the faint outline of Godrim Thunderhowler. The wraith was living up to his name by bellowing like an enraged bear. He didn't stop to catch his breath nor seem to fear the great bird; instead, the bird seemed to fear [i]him.[/i] Godrim's deafening and ghostly battlecry made every living being upon that mountain shiver to their bones as it conjured a cold worse than the harshest blizzard. The bird shrieked once again, this time in pain, and its grip loosened just enough for Kadol's thin body to wriggle free. As he fell down, time slowed to a crawl and he shut his eyes and prayed, and then he struck a snow-covered slope and began tumbling down the mountain. Somewhere along the way his head struck the forlorn bone of some long-dead troll and he lost consciousness, but he didn't stop rolling until he came to the very bottom of that canyon full of trolls. There he lay for many hours, until he finally was found and shaken awake by those surviving miners that had stayed within the shaft. And sure enough, Godrim was walking down there with him. The ghost looked especially faded and almost as ragged as Kadol himself, but he still had a jovial tone to his shaky voice.

[i]"Aye, you ever try goin' to the mountain creeks and pannin' for gold, lad? With luck like that ye'd find a nugget the size of your hand!"[/i]

But Kadol of course wanted answers, so Godrim told him what he had already told the others. [i]"Aye, 'twas no bird that grabbed you back there. I tried to save your friends, but my roar's maybe not so harrowing as it once was...least I managed to drive it away for now, but it'll be back. In my day it struck too, usually kidnapping women and children, but it's not too picky about what it kills. We called it the Abductor; the enemy seem to worship it. Always figured it's some kind of dark spirit that they worship as a god. No stopping the thing, 'cept with powerful magic. Its return is a bad omen indeed; if it stirs after all these years, I can only imagine that so too do the ice trolls...And now the Abductor has seen you, so they'll know."[/i]

[hr]

Tirelessly, the historians pored over every ancient scroll, tablet, and disc that they could find. By the gloomy light of day or by the light of their hearths at night, they read on and on with a wild fervor. They sifted through every bit of esoteric knowledge and pointless history that was to be found, but there was [i]nothing[/i] that told the secrets of runesmithing! Nothing of any use! Joron's hands were shaking; he now felt an even greater desperation and despair than when the foreman had confined him to that miserable cage. But then, among the very bottom of the pile, he found one ancient disc. He read it silently, then gasped, and then stood up and read it aloud with all the force that his voice could muster.

[i]"To the sorcerer-king of those hills the howling winds called
In grasping greed he crossed the mountains and found his doom.
Lured by promises of might, by the ice king's deceit he was enthralled
and so the greatest runesmith was forever bound in an icy tomb."[/i]

Some jumped to their feet immediately and proposed the unthinkable--an expedition over the mountain pass guarded by Godrim, into the lands beyond, in search of this legendary runesmith's final resting place. It was risky, for sure; they had no knowledge of what could possibly be on the other side, and if this ancient "ice king" had exploited a sorcerer-king's greed and to his doom, perhaps their greed would lead them to a similar fate. After all, if they were afraid of some ancient race of trolls that lurked beyond the mountain, was it really wise to range into the heart of the enemy's territory? Others grew pale as they saw an eerie similarity between that 'king' and the wraith that had called himself Godrim Thunderhowler; the disc said that the runesmith had been enthralled by the ice king, so was Godrim truly who he claimed to be? Or was he merely a pawn of the enemy that he claimed to hate? Still others were most intrigued by the mention of a "king of those hills". Perhaps if they had built their hovel atop the ruins of some long-gone kingdom of runesmithing hill dwarves, there would be some sort of ruins to excavate. If they searched their lands thoroughly enough, perhaps they would uncover something of use.

What was to be done? In the wake of the Abductor's attack, morale was low and they were growing increasingly desperate; should they continue mining and building by the mountain? And should they try to find more information from Godrim, or leave the wraith out of it, or perhaps even declare Godrim an enemy and try to banish him from the mountain pass?

[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] 216 men, 219 women, 104 children. (10 casualties suffered from the Abductor)
[b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population.
[b]Food level:[/b] Average; food stores decreasing
[b]Resources:[/b] Lignite coal (low grade; large amount, increasing), iron ore (none, has been discovered but not yet mined)
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistent
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistent
[b]Growth:[/b] [i]Average[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Shaken, due to Abductor's attack
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] None
[/hider]

[h3][color=aba000]The Aedelfaari[/color][/h3]
[hider]
The sudden arrival of the Aedels certainly caught the attention of the sailors; they looked even more bewildered now, seeing the army of animals assembling with some ordinary-enough looking humans mixed in. When Eric approached, they brandished their cutlasses a little higher and a few leveled some sort of sticks at him; the king didn't worry much, taking the queer weapons for some sort of strangely designed spears or clubs. One of the sailors lined up on the beach stepped a short ways forward from his fellows, many of which had already begun to nervously back closer to the lapping waves. "I'm first mate Fairhair!" he called out, and this was met by some laughter from the Aedels who looked at the man's bald and tattooed head.

"Aye, we sail under Fusebeard's flag, an' he's the most fearsome reaver to sail the seas! You don't know who you're dealin' wit' if you think we'll lay down our arms and be robbed or captured by the likes of you! The Cap'n'll give you this one chance to scurry off with your beasts and leave us in peace; we've done nothin' to provoke you, but if you come lookin' for a fight, we'll shoot and hack 'til the sands are red!"

As if in rebuttal to the man's claims of peaceful intent, one of the bears roared, and the nearest of the Aedels looked to it only to find a wounded deer besides a mauled pirate that had no doubt been trying to hunt the beast.

And then the trees shook. [i]Thud. Thud.[/i]

Something massive was approaching from within the forest, but the animals didn't seem disturbed as they opened a hole in the middle of their ranks. The pirates, meanwhile, were shouting and cursing in panicked confusion.

[hider=Then a thing erupted from the treeline]
[center][img]https://pre00.deviantart.net/b3c6/th/pre/i/2015/110/c/0/ent_by_darkdarius-d6nsn5t.png[/img][/center]
[/hider]

The men, Aedel and corsair alike, looked up and beheld a massive oak as it marched out of the forest with war glowering in its emerald eyes. Trapped in a web of twisting and gnarled branches that had tightened into a sort of fist, there was a man howling and struggling. The ent lifted that man high to slow him to all those assembled, but as it did so, the ent's grip slackened just enough for the man to free one of his trapped arms and hack at the ent's hand with a small hatchet. The tree itself roared; it made the deep sound of splintering wood, carried more rage than pain, and was loud enough that those all the way back in Waebury heard its echo. With a mighty heave the ent hurled the man forward into the spiked ram of the wrecked ship, and the pirate lumberjack flew with such force that he was completely skewered upon the huge spear-like protrusion. The animals started braying and advancing onto the beach, but atop the deck of the wrecked ship there was suddenly movement. A half dozen of the pirates rose from where they had been hiding, and they suddenly began to push forward a great iron tube to the prow of the deck.

Fairhair turned to the deck and yelled, "Cap'n Tusks! Whadda we do?"

A redskinned troll leaned over the edge of the deck and shouted back, "Keep 'em away from the ship! We'll deal wit' dat heap o' sticks!"

Things were going very poorly, and if Eric was to miraculously solve this with diplomacy, it would probably take more than some words. Throughout all of this he had heard no music nor seen any sign of the Lord of the Forest; the idea suddenly came to him to run, as fast as he could, to the center of the Woodhenge where that spirit made its home. Perhaps if he spoke to that spirit and pleaded on behalf of the ignorant pirates that knew not their transgression, something could be done. But on the other hand, if he fled now, he might look like a coward or a traitor...

[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] 206 men, 204 women, 91 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] Lumber (small quantity)
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistent
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistent
[b]Growth:[/b] [i] Above Average; influenced by food and morale[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Above average; returning to normal
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] 
[color=Green][i]Lord of the Forest[/i]: Friendly[/color]
[color=Gold][i]Fusebeard's Freebooters: Wary[/i][/color]
[/hider]

[h3][color=Blue]Oguurec Dekaan[/color][/h3]
[hider]

Joz scratched his head as he looked over at a distant goat. The dumb thing was eating some tuft of grass, oblivious to the mortal peril posed by the approaching goblins. "Now how are we gonna get that thing back over to those pens Stieq is building..." Joz murmured to himself.

"Don't worry boss, I got it!" one of the Kooch Hor called out. Apparently Joz had spoken a little bit louder than he'd intended. The young wizard raised his hands, and Joz's eyes opened wide. "What! No-"

[b]BOOM![/b]

The goblins cackled as they conjured explosions on the other side of the goat. The terrified animal fled from the deafening bangs and from the scattering rocks as fast as it could, charging straight towards the goblins. Joz barely jumped out of the way in time; the dumb animal nearly trampled him and gored him at the same time! But of course, the dumb plan had worked...while two of the mages chased that poor goat all the way back to the pens, Joz took the rest farther up the mountains to round up more of the animals. Naturally, when all was done and they'd gathered together a small herd, he made sure to tell the queen that it had all been his idea and his doing.

Now the issue was that the goats were incredibly scared of goblins and the occasional sound of explosions from their makeshift camp always sent the animals into a bleating panic. The goats kept trying to escape, and the goblins could forget about trying to milk the animals or butcher them through conventional means. The only thing that worked was blasting them to bits from a safe range, but that wasted a lot of the meat and didn't cook them very evenly. So it was probably a good idea to try domesticating the animals, but Joz had yet to devise any good ideas for how that might be possible. Explosion therapy wasn't working very well; rather than becoming acclimated to the booms, the goat test subjects seemed to be going deaf.

[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] 198 men, 197 women, 78 children.
[b]Livestock:[/b] Small herd of untamed goats
[b]Military:[/b] 15 Kooch Hor mages. Militia able to be conscripted up to 40% of adult population.
[b]Food level:[/b] Below Average
[b]Resources:[/b] None
[b]Wealth:[/b] Nonexistent
[b]Trade:[/b] Nonexistent
[b]Growth:[/b] [i]Average; influenced by low food and racial traits[/i]
[b]Morale:[/b] Average
[b]Foreign relations:[/b] [i]None[/i]
[/hider]

[hr]

[hider=Meanwhile...]
Within a frigid fortress hewn into a rocky fjord and built from great slabs of stone and ice alike, there was a chamber heated by volcanic vents. The soil was just warm enough to sustain the life of nightshades and fungi and all the other plants that the witch found useful in her brews and rituals. Beyond mere reagents, the plants served another purpose. The presence of that small amount of life in such a desolate place was paramount, for the magic that she worked required the essence of living things. The Seith was a powerful magic, so to maintain the balance of the universe it of course demanded a great cost.

The hag looked up from her work as someone barged into her chambers. She already knew who it was; there was only one that was foolish and brave enough to intrude upon the chambers of a hag so powerful--her wretched husband. Their marriage had been one of practicality rather than love, but of course he had his uses.

"Tjatse," she croaked. The ice king regarded her with his cold eyes, then hefted two pitiful creatures down before her. "Angerboda."

"In my scrying, I saw three. So be it; three would be enough, but not two. Did you eat the third, fool?"

The massive troll let out a low growl that would have been terrifying to any mere mortal, but this was a giantess, a witch, and the daughter of a horrible sea god. She knew nothing of fear. So he fixed the eagle pelt upon his back and spat back, "You are not the only one that practices the Seith. I require the third for my own rituals."

To that, she laughed. "Still trying to awaken them? You should know by now that mine is the only way; your people are long gone. Accept it. They mean nothing; there are others to lord over."
[/hider]