[color=salmon][center][u][b][h2]Turn 2[/h2][/b][/u][/center][/color] [hider=The Map][img]https://www.worldanvil.com/uploads/images/e7cefa62d720454f9ba04940cebf99e3.jpg[/img][/hider] [h3][color=purple]The Mustaqilun Tribe[/color][/h3] [@Bright_Ops] [Hider=Turn 2][i]”Boss…”[/i] scout Gorkun said, having walked up behind Rukdug while he was inspecting construction efforts on the lumber yard. Rukdug spun around, not liking someone having snuck up on him while he was deep in thought. With a scowl, he awaited whatever news was worthy of bothering him about. [i]”I followed the stream up north, as the huntmaster ordered. He told me to report of my findings directly to you.”[/i] Gorkun continued, seemingly not being affected by his chieftain’s menacing glare. This was unorthodox. What could be so important that the huntmaster told his scout to report directly to the chieftain? [i]”Speak, then.”[/i] Rukdug ordered. [i]”I saw a wall, chieftain. First I thought it was just peculiarly shaped stone, for they truly were huge boulders and covered with moss and shrubbery, but then…”[/i] his eyes widened as he retold his experiences. [i]”A huge wall! Ruins of a massive gate or fortress or… Something! I cannot tell what could have built it, for it seems to have been abandoned for… Well, forever! There are statues, I think, but they’re so covered in moss it’s hard to tell. Either way, the gate is still intact and barricaded with boulders and logs, as if to keep the doors from opening outward.”[/i] A fortress. Perhaps this land wasn’t unsettled after all. Although they were ruins. [i]”A gate and a wall, you say. What else?”[/i] Rukdug demanded. [i]”Nothing, chieftain. The gate leads into the mountain. The fortress is probably dug into the mountainwall from what I can tell…”[/i] A massive fortress dug into the mountain… Orcs liked to refortify old ruins, and perhaps it would serve as a future stronghold, but for now Riverforge had to be fortified itself before they could move anywhere unless they just packed up and left blindly. Rukdug wasn’t stupid, though. Walking into a subterranean fortress with no prior exploration was idiocy. [hider=The Ruined Entrance][img] https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c7/a5/79/c7a579e682ac8517886832a8e31026d1.jpg[/img][/hider] But then again, all hunters were busy gathering food. Perhaps Gorkun could be sent back into the area to attempt to find a way in or to determine the ruins’ origins. Would he send a group of scouts north to investigate the ruins, or would he send only Gorkun? Or even the huntmaster and all his best pathfinders? Or perhaps… It would be best to not disturb that which was clearly sealed deliberately. [color=gray][b]A)[/b] Explore the ruins further. [b]B)[/b] Leave it alone for now.[/color] The lumber yard was quickly set up and woodcutters used what tools they could muster to get to work. While the influx of timber was a bit slow for now, it wasn’t anything less than what Rukdug had expected. [hider=Actions][color=lightsalmon][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][/hider] [hider=Statistics][b]Population:[/b] 1040 [b]Livestock:[/b] - [b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 60% of adult population. [b]Food level:[/b] [color=yellow]Average[/color] [b]Resources:[/b] [list][*]Lumber[/list] [b]Wealth:[/b] - [b]Trade:[/b] - [b]Growth:[/b] [color=yellow]+4%[/color] [color=gray][i]Base: 3%. +1% from race traits. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level.[/i][/color] [b]Morale:[/b] [color=lightgreen]100%[/color] [b]Foreign relations:[/b] You have not met any other civilizations yet. [/hider] [/hider] [h3][color=teal]The Wanderers Tribe[/color][/h3] [@CleanBreeze] [Hider=Turn 2]Hunters stalked the forests, hunting prey to feed the tribe. For now, they could make do, but still before they began raising crops they would just have to stick to a diet of foraging and hunting. However it was clear that they weren’t the only ones hunting the wildlife in the area. The deeper the hunters ventured into the western forest, the more they could hear the howls of wolves at night. [i]”Uh… Pathfinder?”[/i] a young huntress came up to Nexonia. [i]”We’ve begun noticing the forest grow darker. Only this week I’ve come across several dead trees, and entire grove of overgrown white moss across dead trees and trunks.”[/i] she said nervously, uncertain of how to address the leader of her tribe. Indeed, Nexonia already knew of this. She had seen it herself when she was out in the wilds… But more and more hunters had started to report this to her. It seemed they all shared a concern that the forest is unwell… Nexonia blinked, seeing the look of the huntress. [i]”What else?”[/i] Nexonia asked, seeing the reluctance in her eyes. The huntress cleared her throat. [i]”I was curious, so I entered the grove… I found this.”[/i] she said, holding up a flower. It was a single picked stalk of a thick green, ragged and torn petals spiralling outwards in blue and white. It smelled gentle and sweet and moved only slightly in the breeze. [hider=The Flower][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f3/9c/50/f39c50056760925998464485d5f9f1fd.jpg[/img][/hider] [i]”I couldn’t resist picking it.”[/i] she huntress continued. [i]”I’m no druid, but I can tell there’s something special about this flower. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”[/i] She handed the flower over to Nexonia, who gently held it in her hands. To her, it seemed to glisten and glow and glitter and sparkle. It was an inspiring sight, filling her with love and hope for the future. Obviously it had some sort of properties… Magical perhaps? She couldn’t tell, but she agreed there was something special about it. [i]”It was good of you to bring this to me. I will ask the druids at once.”[/i] she said, nodding to the huntress. Once at the tent that served as the druid’s spirit lodge, Nexonia didn’t bother with curtesy such as announcing her presence before entering or indeed even asking permission. She stepped into the tent, absentmindedly moving the cloth of the opening aside. Looking around the abode, the tent was quite large on the inside, with a few of the druids sitting in the middle, discussing something. They were mostly facing away from the entrance, and as such didn’t notice the Pathfinder as she came in. She overheard their discussion. [i]”Well what about it? It’s a new land, surely it will take some time.”[/i] said one of them. [i]”We have tried, and weeks ago we performed our most powerful ritual of communion – the land does not answer. There’s something wrong, it must be.”[/i] said another. A third intervened, leaning forward as he sat. [i]”Are you certain you didn’t just perform it wrong? I’m not questioning your knowledge of our rites of course, but surely there must have been a mistake. The ritual of communion has never been unheeded before.”[/i] he said. The second scoffed. [i]”Of course I performed it right. You may not question my knowledge but nonetheless you offend me.”[/i] The fourth and final druid, the eldest among them, cleared his throat in an angry manner. The rest fell silent. [i]”Swallow your pride. You said it yourself, the ritual did not work. Something must be missing. But we can discuss it later, we have a visitor…”[/i] said the elder, looking at Nexonia, standing near the opening of the tent. The others turned their heads to look at her. [i]”How can we help you, Pathfinder?”[/i] said the eldest. [i]”One of the huntresses found this while exploring the woods to the west.”[/i] she said simply, holding the flower in her hand. As she beheld it, she could almost hear a pleasant hum in her head, as if the flower was singing. The druids stared at the flower, seemingly surprised. Nexonia stepped forward and sat down among them, giving them a closer look. None of them said anything. They did not touch it either, they only observed it with curiosity and perhaps a bit of awe. Could they hear the hum too? [i]”This is… Where was this found?”[/i] said the elder. [i]”In a forlorn grove, deep in the woods. My huntress said the trees around the grove were dead or dying, covered in moss but still the thicket let not a single ray of light through.[/i] [color=Gray][b]T[/b]he flower has some sort of magical property, that is for sure. The druids think they can use it to establish a bond with the lands here, seeing as their efforts thus far has been for naught. As they continue their work, you may name the flower as you wish.[/color] [hider=Actions][color=lightsalmon][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][/hider] [hider=Statistics][b]Population:[/b] 1133 [b]Livestock:[/b] - [b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population. [b]Food level:[/b] [color=yellow]Average[/color] [b]Resources:[/b] - [b]Wealth:[/b] - [b]Trade:[/b] - [b]Growth:[/b] [color=yellow]+3%[/color] [color=gray][i]Base: 3%. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level.[/i][/color] [b]Morale:[/b] [color=lightgreen]100%[/color] [b]Foreign relations:[/b] You have not met any other civilizations yet. [/hider] [/hider] [h3][color=Brown]Bukradul[/color][/h3] [@Lauder] [Hider=Turn 2]The woods were neverending. Trees of different sizes stretched into the skies so far and thick that Guthug could not see the sun some days. Occasionally he came across an area where the trees had lost their greenery and turned into gray husks. Perhaps some disease culled the massive forestation, to keep it in check in nature’s own way. During the days, small creatures and birds and insects of many different sorts were his only companions. When the sun started to set, he could hear the rustling of the larger creatures daring to venture outward in the diminishing light. He had seen a few deer and elk, but had yet failed to locate their herds. He kept his belly full with hunting the various wildlife around him, big or small. When dusk finally came, the howling of wolves begun. They were seemingly all around him, prowling the forest. There! An elk! Guthug got low, silently moving through the underbrush. It was a female. If he followed it, he could find the larger herd. The females didn’t venture far from the others. It perked it’s ears up, looking in his direction. Stopping dead in his tracks, he knew all he had to do was be patient and the creature wouldn’t know he was there. He couldn’t afford to lose focus. Just as he thought the female would resume obliviousness, a twig snapped somewhere further away. A large snap followed by several cracks and whips startled the elk, and she ran off into the forest. Guthug couldn’t follow her in this terrain, but he made an effort to see which direction she headed. Whatever made that twig snap must’ve been big. Unless it was just an old branch falling off from it’s own weight. There were plenty of dead trees here, after all. Lurking forward in a cautious manner, Guthug investigated the sound. As he delved deeper through the rough terrain, it seemed like the branches of bushes and ferns tried to keep him from continuing. They grew thicker and more irritating, but finally he managed to brush them out of his face to find nothing in front of him. Nothing at all. He stood in an empty grove, surrounded by grey husks of incredibly large and thick trees. They bent over the sky, despite being only skeletal managing to block out the light of the setting sun and the glowing moon. An earie silence fell over him. Another snap of a twig behind him forced him to attention. He spun around, spear in hand, ready to defend himself from whatever creature came upon him. There stood a huge, black bear on two feet, a cloth around its waist and a bow on its back. This was no bear, Guthug thought. This creature is sentient and humanoid. It growled and glowered at him as he raised his spear, pointed at this bear-man… The two locked eyes and slowly stepped sideways, rounding each other and sizing each other up. This bear-man was easily twice the size of Guthug, so he knew his only advantage was his spear. The bear-man had only his thick bow, and they were at the exact distance where using it would be pointless. Snarling, the bear-man stopped in his tracks, facing Guthug straight. [i]This is it…[/i] Guthug thought. [i]He is readying himself to attack.[/i] But he did not. Instead, the sound of rustling forced Guthug to avert his gaze to the side. From the thicket emerged another bear-man. And another. And another..! There were four of them now, all of black or dark-brown fur. The surrounded Guthug and eyed him cautiously, showing their teeth and claws. The others were dressed and armed in the same fashion as the first, with simple loincloths or leather straps and a bow with a quiver of arrows on their backs. Yet, they did not attack… [hider=The Bearmen][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/10/7a/e1/107ae19cb7feb610b2da611a530a5aba.jpg[/img][/hider] [hider=What will Guthug do?][b]A)[/b] Escape! Surely his lesser size would give him an advantage in escaping through the thick forest. Perhaps he could slip away out of harms way. [b]B)[/b] Attack! If he can wound one of them perhaps he can put himself in a better position to ward the rest of them off with his spear. [b]C)[/b] Attempt to reason with them. They are humanoid, standing on two legs and obviously intelligent enough to make tools and weaponry for themselves. Perhaps they can be reasoned with? [b]D)[/b] Do nothing. Say nothing. Let the creatures decide what to do. He would react accordingly, with Akrosh as his witness he would emerge unscathed.[/hider] Meanwhile, back home in Bukradul, the orcs worried. Their lives continued and the could make do without their chieftain for a while, for they are an independent sort, but if he fails in his duties the rite of the land will be deemed a failure and without the blessing of the Gods they would surely perish. Guthug had been gone for days now. It was of course customary to not return until the one undertaking the rite has succeeded in his task, and claiming an entire herd of elk was no easy task, but still it was hard not to worry. The hunters had managed to steer clear of the wolves that howled in the night. So far, they did not have to compete directly with the other predators of the area for food… But until Guthug returned, the tribe had no herd of their own. [hider=Actions][color=lightsalmon][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][/hider] [hider=Statistics][b]Population:[/b] 1040 [b]Livestock:[/b] – [b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 60% of adult population. [b]Food level:[/b] [color=yellow]Average[/color] [b]Resources:[/b] - [b]Wealth:[/b] - [b]Trade:[/b] - [b]Growth:[/b] [color=yellow]+4%[/color] [color=gray][i]Base: 3%. +1% from race traits. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level.[/i][/color] [b]Morale:[/b] [color=lightgreen]100%[/color] [b]Foreign relations:[/b] You have not met any other civilizations yet. [/hider] [/hider] [h3][color=peru]The Hogtusk Tribe[/color][/h3] [@AdorableSaucer] [Hider=Turn 2]Any sort of peacekeeping effort in an ogre tribe was seemed as a meaningless undertaking if you ask any human scholar with expertise on the subject. Ogres are naturally inclined to fight each other as they revolve around survival of the fittest where the strongest is “king”. So if anyone told these scholars that the Hogtusk Tribe had actually managed to start a policing-force motivated by other things than to fight with each other, most would scoff and laugh. Yet again, the Hogtusk Tribe do what many say is not possible. By motivating the taskmasters to hit -other- ogres in stead of each other, they manage to somewhat keep to their assigned task of motivating the builders. With minor mistakes and a few extra bonks on the noggin for some, the Ogres manage to set up pens for their pigs in record time. The taskmasters are happy by just having someone to hit once in a while, and the workers are motivated and kept in their place by being hit. It was a win-win for all the chieftain was concerned. The Boar spirit would indubitably be proud to see what the ogres had accomplished. But with their building project done and the pigs now with a proper enclosure, many of the builders wanted to move on to the next thing. [i]”What now, boss?”[/i] some of them had said. The taskmasters too, for that matter. They wanted to keep hitting other Ogres for the good of the tribe, so with no ordered task to complete they would just randomly go about and bonk other ogres on the noggin for not seemingly working hard enough. Maybe this whole thing was both good and bad… Not long did Rog-mohog have to ponder about it however before the Ox clan returned. They had a few cows with them, and even a bull! It was a really feisty one though. As soon as they became visible in the distance, Rog-mohog could see the big bull knock over ogres in rage. They had it pinned with makeshift ropes and some even tried to hold it down, but they constantly had to fight to keep the thing moving. The cows were a little stressed out but mostly followed along wherever the bull went. All in all, once they returned to Big Rock the tribe had 1 new bull and 5 new cows to add to their herd… Though new pens for these ones would probably be needed too, for the bull seemed to particularly dislike being restrained. [i]”Uh, boss.”[/i] a voice came from behind Rog-mohog. He turned around, but saw no one. [i]”Whut? Who’s playin’ me a foolin’?”[/i] he demanded. [i]”Down ‘ere, boss.”[/i] the voice said again. Rog-mohog looked down, and there stood the smallest adult ogre he had ever seen. He had the getup of a scout, naturally. [i]”I ventured west ‘n I found this.”[/i] the tiny ogre said, and held up a wooden stick with a metal rod on it. It looked hand-made, but Rog-mohog had no idea what it was. There was a hole at the end of the metal pipe, and the wooden part had a small lever sticking out of it. Pulling it made the thing go “click”. There was also some strange marking on it with a symbol that looked… Ugly. Maybe it was a letter or something from one of the lesser races. [i]”Well… Whut is it?”[/i] Rog-mohog asked, furling his unibrow into a frown. [i]”I dunnos boss. But I found it next to sum debris, an’ I saw lots of smoke comin’ from the mountains in the distance. I travelled really far, though, so I’m tired now. We gots any food? Pig spirit bless us yet?”[/i] the scout said, looking around, seemingly not caring at all about the thing he had found. [i]”Not jus’ yet, magget.”[/i] Rog-mohog said, angrily. [i]”What debris? What smoke?”[/i] The scout shrugged. [i]”I dunnos, boss. Debris were like… Wood. Pieces of charred metal and wood. They led to the mountains where the smoke was, no idea what the smoke’s about though.”[/i] he scratched his double-chin. Rog-mohog sighed and let him go. He had to figure out what this stick thing was, or at least who made it. This was obviously the sign of civilization nearby… His boys could use some fun if they decided to go raiding. [Hider=Actions][color=lightsalmon][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][/hider] [hider=Statistics][b]Population:[/b] 927 [b]Livestock:[/b] 40 pigs, 26 goats 20 cows (1 bull). [b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 30% of adult population. [b]Food level:[/b] [color=yellow]Average[/color] [b]Resources:[/b] - [b]Wealth:[/b] - [b]Trade:[/b] - [b]Growth:[/b] [color=yellow]+3%[/color] [color=gray][i]Base: 3%. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level.[/i][/color] [b]Morale:[/b] [color=lightgreen]100%[/color] [b]Foreign relations:[/b] You have not met any other civilizations yet. [/hider] [/hider] [h3][color=red]The Red Cap Junta[/color][/h3] [@Cyclone] [Hider=Turn 2]As the last of the blasting powder was used up to kill birds and their habitats, and so too the last of the cartridges for the rifles, the gnomes had to resort to more primitive means to “wage war”. Some had taken an equally sane level of hatred for the birds as their director, and fashioned slings of wood and whatever sturdy vine they could find. Others had begun some sort of guerrilla warfare tactic of sneaking up on birds when they (rarely) descended to the ground. Seeing as the mountains and vegetation provided plenty of different habitats for birds large and small, this brought not only a way to sate the gnomes’ vengeance (for now) but also an influx of food. The gnomes got quite the taste for cooking and eating birds of different sorts, with the rarest birds making the most extravagant meals. Some even fancied themselves chefs, collecting herbs and other ingredients to enhance the flavours. Bronzeburn was not one for extravagant taste, however. He had little care of the birds, all he wanted was to master his craft. He lived and would probably die for his inventions, whatever they may be. His ancestor was the gnome who had first came upon the idea of pneumatic rifles… Or so he says. Gnomes didn’t really keep records of things such as lineages and who did what, unless it was actually important. In this case, who made the rifles was unimportant, the important part was how to make them. Nobody knew whose signature the original blueprints carried, but Bronzeburn claimed it was his ancestor’s symbol of a burning ingot with a cog. He was proud of himself and his heritage, and when the director tasked him with finding new means of defending themselves (and kill birds, appearantly), Bronzeburn would aim for nothing less than perfection. He was an expert artificier, engineer, and smith. Few had mastered as many crafts as he. No wonder he had been given this monumental, if undescript, task. For days he locked himself away, trying to come up with a masterpeace worthy of his people and heritage. Not until he was out of parchment did he realize he would have to approach this from a different angle. When he finally ventured out of his makeshift dwelling, the “village” had grown around him. Several new dwellings had been erected, and a perimeter begun to take shape at the outskirts of the settlement. His first pitstop was … Well, he needed a bit of food, so he stopped by the storage and got himself a birdwing to snack on. Next, he made the short walk down to the woodworkers. [i]”I need something of you.”[/i] he said as soon as he saw the overseer of operations. He didn’t even bother with hello. [i]”What? Oh, it’s you. What do you want, Bronzeburn?”[/i] said the overseer absentmindedly. He was busy recording the stock of timber and what kinds they had managed to haul up the hill to the settlement. He kept his gaze focused on his list. [i]”I need to borrow your finest woodworkers for… Hm… A week.”[/i] said Bronzeburn, folding his arms and tapping his foot in irritation of the overseer’s lack of interest. The overseer tossed him a glance with a raised brow. [i]”What for? We’re busy at work. Houses have to be made, a perimeter barricade, tools… I can’t spare a gnome, no less my best. What do you need him for anyway?”[/i] Bronzeburn sighed. He was too important for this, his task too monumental to waste time arguing. [i]”The director has given me the task of providing us with a new weapon.”[/i] he explained, annoyed. [i]”Or would you rather I explained to him I cannot perform my charge because the overseer of woodworking denied me?”[/i] The overseer grimaced in discomfort. [i]”Fine. I’ll send Treecog to you. But I tell you, we’re stretched thin on manpower and resources as it is. Whatever you’ll have him do, he’ll need quality timber. What we haven’t blown up already, we’re using for housing. I suggest you convince Director Glough to commit more manpower to the lumber yard.”[/i] At first, Bronzeburn had scoffed, but as Treecog came to join him in his “workshop”, he found respect for the expert woodworker. Treecog too said the same thing – without quality timber there was little he could do. The trees around here were too few and of too average a quality. They could make for good lodging and for the perimeter wall, but Bronzeburn’s machinations required more than simple wood. He needed the strongest, most flexible… [i]”Director!”[/i] a frantic shout came from the other end of the camp. [i]”What now?”[/i] he said to himself, forcing his attention away from his next bird-slaying scheme. [i]”Visitors! Visitors from the mountains!”[/i] the gnomish scout said before he had had even come into talking-distance. This certainly peaked Glough’s interest. Even Bronzeburn peeked his head out of his workshop at the noise. Before Glough new it, a group of twelve dwarves entered the camp. They walked in a column in three lines, armor-clad warriors in the front with shield and spear in hand, and cloaked rangers in the back with crossbows and handaxes. In the middle, two civilizans held their heads high. The column moved as a unit up until the entrance of the settlement perimeter. The warriors parted to make way for one of the civilians, a glamorously clad dwarf in robes who stepped forward. [i]”Greetings, gnomes of unknown origins.”[/i] he started, trying to sound diplomatic but obviously not really giving a crap. [i]”I would address the leader in charge.”[/i] They stood there, at the outskirts of the settlement, waiting for a reply. Glough had been watching, and noticed only that all of them had long, white beards. Wether they seemed old or young, their hair- and beardcolor were all ranging from white to grey. Would director Glough greet the dwarves, or drive them off? [hider=Actions][color=lightsalmon][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][/hider] [hider=Statistics][b]Population:[/b] 505 [b]Livestock:[/b] - [b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 10% of adult population. [b]Food level:[/b] [color=orange]Low[/color] [color=gray][i](Improving)[/i][/color] [b]Resources:[/b] - [b]Wealth:[/b] - [b]Trade:[/b] - [b]Growth:[/b] [color=yellow]+1%[/color] [color=gray][i]Base: 2%. +-0% from morale. -1% from food level.[/i][/color] [b]Morale:[/b] [color=yellow]75%[/color] [b]Foreign relations:[/b] You have not met any other civilizations yet. [/hider] [/hider] [h3][color=green]Kingdom of Brightland[/color][/h3] [@Schylerwalker] [Hider=Turn 2]The people of Brightland are no strangers to hard times, rough tides and farming. By sheer force of will and hard work, foraging the surrounding area would not be an issue for now. Hunters could feed the population and the workers while they readied the grounds surrounding their settlement into fields to be farmed. Despite the feeling of Aureth’s absence, the men and women of Brightwater worked hard and worked together. They would overcome this hardship. Work on the channels and irrigation of the lands surrounding the river was to be done in time, and the overseer reported that he figured they could begin planting crops very soon. [color=gray][Farming operations begin yielding results in 2 turns.][/color] Mostly, the hunters steered clear of the lions to the south and instead hunted the game north of the river, seeing as they hadn’t yet found any larger predators in the area. They didn’t want to come between a lioness and her prey. Though the game north of the river quickly began to steer clear of the settlement, and thus with every passing week the hunters would have to travel further and further into the wilderness to find animals to hunt. Before long, they realized they had no choice but to hunt both sides of the river. Why the game to the north had begun to elude them, they did not know. Tanis, a young hunter with lacklustre experience but decent skill, was out with his party to search the savannah for suitable prey. The others were older and more experienced, and Tanis had only just become a man grown. He was eager to prove himself and show that he was more than capable of pulling his own weight. Indeed, no one questioned him, but it was the pride of youth and pressure of adulthood that forced many young men and women to push their limits to prove not only to their people that they were worthy of respect, but perhaps also to themselves. There! A gazelle. A lone female, munching on some particularly juicy bit of vegetation, it would seem, for she saw not Tanis as he crept in the tall grass. Closer and closer he came to come within confident distance to fell the female with an arrow. Suddenly, the gazelle looked up, jerking it’s ears. Tanis sat still, quiet as the wind. He heard nothing but the chirping of insects and buzzing of flies. The gazelle looked off in the distance, not even remotely close to Tanis’ location. This was his chance. He nocked an arrow, drew the bowstring and… An arrow hit the gazelle straight to the heart. It stumbled and fell, dead within a blink. Tanis blinked as well. His arrow was still drawn on his unloosed bowstring. Panicked, he ducked down and retracted his arrow. He looked around. Which of his comrades had stolen his kill? He couldn’t see anyone. Furious, he realized they must be playing a trick on him, hiding on the other side of the gazelle or something. He stood up, and walked with heavy steps toward the felled animal. As he got closer and closer, the arrow the stuck out of the gazelle was… Different. He didn’t recognize it as any that he or his comrades would use. The feathers were blue and red. Suddenly realizing his folly, he spun around. Of course – his comrades hadn’t played a trick on him, there were other hunters out here as well! He heard the footsteps before he saw who approached. He spun around once more. A large humanoid creature stood before him, towering over him by at least two feet. Tanis himself was almost six feet tall, so squinting to get a look of the creature, he readied himself for a struggle. Before him stood the creature with the look of a lion. A large cat-like furred face with whiskers and a flowing mane sat upon an upright body walking on two legs, clad in light leather armour and armed with bow, quiver and axe. Tanis blinked, staggering backwards in fear and surprise. How had this towering creature snuck up on him?! How could he let his emotions get the better of him – this situation was the worst! [i]”I hope you don’t intend to steal my prey, manling.”[/i] said the lion-man. Tanis blinked once more. [i]”I… Was just about to fire my arrow when you felled it.”[/i] Tanis explained, utterly confused. [i]”Well, that doesn’t really address my concern, does it?”[/i] said the lion-man, walking past Tanis to gather his kill. [i]”But I don’t think you would. You seem to be a noble lad.”[/i] he continued and flung the gazelle over his shoulder as easy as a shoulder-bag. [i]”I am Ghaston.”[/i] He offered a clawed hand to Tanis, who hesitated at first but took the hand of the lion-man. [i]”I am Tanis, son of Taran. And I did not think to steal your kill, Ghaston.”[/i] Tanis said, as politely as he could. He couldn’t help but feel some sort of respect for this stoic creature. It carried itself with confident, integrity and nobility. Tanis ended up following Ghaston for a while as the two conversed, speaking of their people. It turns out Ghaston is one of the Leonar, a race of lion-like beastmen that have recently arrived on the continent much like Tanis and his people. The Leonar have settled near the river west of here, between the coast and a set of smaller mountains. They aren’t numerous, but Ghaston speaks of some sort of code of honour among them that Tanis fail to completely understand. In turn, Tanis tells Ghaston of Brightwater without really contemplating the fact that any stranger could be deceiving him. Such it is that his young mind came to trust this creature. Indeed, Ghaston seemed trustworthy enough. He promised he would petition his leader to allow him to visit Brightwater, to perhaps establish formal relations with the humans, or “manlings” as the Leonar called them. It was dusk when Tanis returned home to his comrades, who had been worried about him. They say they lost him when he rushed off to find his own prey too far from camp. He tells them of his experience with Ghaston and the gazelle, and the hunters rush home to tell their leader about it. Forthwine was conversing with Thatlas about plans for the settlement when the senior hunter came to his lodging with Tanis. Tanis explained all to Forthwine, and that the Leonar would come visit them with friendly intentions within a fortnight. He was a naïve young lad, but nonetheless he was certain that the Leonar could be stoic allies in this new lands. [hider=Approximate appearance of Ghaston][img] https://i.pinimg.com/originals/20/0b/2e/200b2eab7905980a65ffd20734df49e2.jpg[/img][/hider] [hider=Bonus action][b]You are human.[/b] Humans have no subraces but are instead the most diverse of creatures upon the civilized world. Your long voyage has tired you out, and you feel as if your energies are sapped from you. Perhaps you are almost out of Aureth’s reach here? Perhaps her grace has not touched this land. Perhaps she has intended for you to be her heralds in these unexplored realms. As a bonus action, you may attempt to re-establish your connection to your goddess. Once you do, your people will be re-invigorated with the blessing of the Lady of Light.[/hider] [hider=Actions][color=lightsalmon][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][/hider] [hider=Statistics][b]Population:[/b] 1030 [b]Livestock:[/b] - [b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 20% of adult population. [b]Food level:[/b] [color=yellow]Average[/color] [b]Resources:[/b] - [b]Wealth:[/b] - [b]Trade:[/b] - [b]Growth:[/b] [color=yellow]3%[/color] [color=gray][i]Base: 3%. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level.[/i][/color] [b]Morale:[/b] [color=lightgreen]90%[/color] [b]Foreign relations:[/b] [list][*][color=gold] [b]The Leonar[/b][/color] - Indifferent[/list] [/hider] [/hider] [h3][color=Gray]The Southern Expedition[/color][/h3] [@Pirate] [Hider=Turn 2]The surrounding lands were bleak thanks to heavy clouds gathering above the elves. They set out with what weapons they had and spirits were lifted at the thrill and enthusiasm of a hunt. They started their journey east along the coast. The grasslands offered little in terms of worthy prey, so instead the party neared the edge of the forest. Deer and elk could prove to be worthy prey if nothing else could be found, but Vas-Ramman had his eyes set on larger prices. Whichever creature left the large footprints would be his prey. While his retainers and followers had managed to stalk and fell a deer or two during their journey, Vas-Ramman continued to push forward empty handed. A set of tracks had been discovered leading further east, and they curled both into the forest and out towards the grasslands. So fresh were the tracks and so determined was Vas-Ramman that they followed the path left by the beast for days. Before long, they found themselves upon the foothills of the mountains where the tracks disappeared. Rain had washed them away, the pathfinders said. Vas-Ramman was furious. Silently he vowed that the beast would not elude him, and as he did his gaze fell upon the mountains. They were black and jagged, sharp as knives. They stretched tall into the skies and little vegetation seemed to follow them further than the very base. The first thought that came to mind was that these black rocks would be impossible to traverse, but then Vas-Ramman’s eyes managed to catch the glimpse of a small natural pathway that snaked through the rocks. [i]”Master…”[/i] another young servant kneeled before him. Annoyed, Vas-Ramman answered while still locking his gaze towards the mountains. [i]”What is it?”[/i] [i]”Look what we found.”[/i] the servant said, a tone of awe in his voice. Vas-Ramman finally snapped and angry look at the servant. There, gleaming in the servant’s outstretched hands lay a small clear stone of red hue. An uncut, raw ruby. [i]”We found it next to a small stream coming down the mountain.”[/i] the servant said, still holding the ruby as an offering to his master, his gaze averted downwards as to not make eye-contact. Vas-Ramman took the ruby in his hand and held it up to the sky. It was very small, but the hue and clarity was unlike anything he had ever seen. This mountain could be rich beyond compare! Movement among the rocks forced the elf to come to his senses. There, far up in the mountains on the path he had spotted earlier, walked a huge feline creature. It was white as snow with dark stripes, and it dwarved the size of any other tiger Vas-Ramman had ever seen. The distance was far, but he could see the white tiger stop and look straight toward him before continuing on and disappearing among the rocks. [i]So this is the beast I have sought.[/i] Vas-Ramman thought to himself. This journey was only getting better and better… [hider=Actions][color=lightsalmon][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][/hider] [hider=Statistics][b]Population:[/b] 714 [list][*]Slaves: 51[/list] [b]Livestock:[/b] - [b]Military:[/b] No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 20% of adult population. [b]Food level:[/b] [color=yellow]Average[/color] [b]Resources:[/b] - [b]Wealth:[/b] - [b]Trade:[/b] - [b]Growth:[/b] [color=yellow]+2%[/color] [color=gray][i]Base: 2%. +-0% from morale. +-0% from food level.[/i][/color] [b]Morale:[/b] [color=lightgreen]100%[/color] [b]Foreign relations:[/b] You have not met any other civilizations yet. [/hider] [/hider]