[color=salmon][center][u][b][h2]Turn 3[/h2][/b][/u][/center][/color] [hider=The Map][img]https://www.worldanvil.com/uploads/images/1da2f508af7c0db65bb39bf31c264eef.jpg[/img][/hider] [h3][color=purple]The Mustaqilun Tribe[/color][/h3] [@Bright_Ops] [Hider=Turn 3]Said and done, the scouts venture north to try to find out more about the ruins without actually entering it. The terrain was rough to traverse with overgrown vegetation and rubble dotting the landscape. What first seemed to have been boulders the first time around, the scout now realized they were pieces of the fortress or surrounding architecture. [i]”This is it.”[/i] said Gorkun, standing before the ruined entrance with his fellow orcs. The “magic-belchers” as they called themselves had joined the scouting party by order of their chieftain of course. They were primitive mages wielding slight arcane talents and as such were able to perform simple scrying rituals and other things Gorkun had no idea of what they meant. In his mind, they came along only out of formality. He didn’t expect them to actually accomplish something, seeing as the strength of the Mustaqilun was their forging – not their magic. Nonetheless, the chieftain ordered they tag along so there wasn’t much Gorkun could do about it. Sleg, the most senior magic-belcher among those accompanying the party, gave the ruined entrance a sour look. He tapped it with his staff, and brushed some dead leaves off of a rectangular stone lying on the ground. It revealed some sort of runescript etched into the surface. [i]”Wouldn’t surprise me if some orcs lived here once.”[/i] he stated after inspecting the runes. [i]”What makes you say that?”[/i] Gorkun asked, raising a brow. [i]”Look at this rune. Is it not familiar?”[/i] Gorkun squinted his eyes. Out of the dozens of runes, one did indeed seem familiar. He had seen the smiths back home mark some of the weapons with that exact rune long ago. [i]”So what? It’s just one rune. The dozens of others are foreign to me.”[/i] Gorkun said. Sleg scoffed, shook his head and poked Gorkun with his staff in the gut. [i]”Shape up, lead scout. You’ve seen this rune before, yes? It’s what the best blacksmiths before our exile would mark the highest quality weapons with. It’s the rune of—“[/i] [i]”Fire. I know.”[/i] Gorkun cut him off, shoving the staff away. [i]”Get to your point.”[/i] Once again the lead magic-belcher shook his head in disappointment. [i]”I see your knowledge of old runecraft ends there. Very well, I will explain. I cannot make out the meaning of these runes, but I recognize some of them as orcish and others as dwarven.”[/i] he says. Gorkun gives him a questioning look. [i]”Dwarven? Well who lived here then, dwarves or orcs?”[/i] [i]”Maybe both?”[/i] Sleg shrugged. [i]”Or maybe neither. Or maybe some orc clan conquered the dwarves and took their home as their own. Either way, they’re all gone now. These stones are ancient, and the runes have lost most meaning to me.”[/i] And with that, the magic-belcher turned to inspect other parts of the stone. Gorkun remained in front of the ruined gate. [i]Senile old wrinkle…[/i] he thought to himself as he shifted his gaze up to the boulders that blocked their entry into the fortress. They had orders not to enter, but it wasn’t as if they could even if they wanted to. The gatehouse was completely blocked. Gorkun signalled to his fellow scouts with a fist in the air. [i]”We’ll set up camp and rest here for the night. Kargh, you’re on first watch.”[/i] The shadow of the mountain loomed over them. Dusk came earlier here, Gorkun noted. As if the mountain was so tall as to blot out the sun for miles around. He could rest for now, this place was secluded enough. No predators would find them here without them noticing. Taking a seat upon a rock, Gorkun leaned backwards onto the mountain wall. His cloak served as his blanket, and he closed his eyes to try and get some sleep, but as soon as he did, he heard a faint, low cracking noise. Opening one of his eyes, he looked around. Was it a pebble? It sure sounded like it. The sound of a loose pebble rolling down the mountain… But it sounded like it came from… Within? As Gorkun stood up, he leaned towards the stone wall behind him, and suddenly he felt his hand give way. The stone itself gave way! A hidden door flung open, as large as half an orc, and Gorkun was unlucky enough to fall straight into it. It led downwards, and the slippery smooth tunnel he fell into made him powerless to slow his descent. He slid helplessly downwards into complete darkness before finally the tunnel levelled itself out and his slid slowly came to a halt. [i]”Kargh? Gorek!”[/i] he shouted up the way he came. No response came back but the echo of his own voice within the cave. Judging from the sound his yell had made, he probably found himself in a very large open space beneath the ground. Was this some hidden entrance made by dwarves? Or a trap door made by orcs to catch sneaking enemy spies? Either way, Gorkun thought himself lucky that he had not been impaled upon spikes… Suddenly, a light flickered in the distance. Not the orange, warm light of a torch, but rather the gleam of moonlight reflecting off a pond of water. As his eyes adjusted, he could barely make out the walls of the cave. It was wide enough for four orcs to walk shoulder-to-shoulder, and twice as tall as himself. It wasn’t excavated out of the rock, but rather seemed to be a natural formation with stalagmites and stalactites dotting the way. There it was again, the flickering light… Later, on the surface, the scouts had noticed their leader missing. They searched for him, but found only his hide cloak upon the rock he had rested on earlier. There was no sign of him or the trap door he had fallen though… What will they do? [hider=The Scouting Party][list][*][b]A)[/b] Return home and report their findings to the chieftain. [*][b]B)[/b] Remain in the area and search/wait for Gorkun. Also continue inspecting the ruins. [*][b]C)[/b] Split the party. The magic-belchers want to remain here, but the scouts want to search for Gorkun. [*][b]X)[/b] Other.[/list][/hider] Meanwhile, back home in Riverforge work on the outer wall had begun. The quality and quantity of lumber provided by the lumber yard was enough to see to the construction of several longhouses as well. The overseer of the wall-project reports the wall will be fully erected and enclosing around the settlement in [u][2 turns][/u] time. The housebuilders report that they will have finished their task much sooner. They boasted, [i]”We’ll have a longhouse done every week!”[/i]. As time went, it became clear their bragging wasn’t at least all talk. They efficiently erected building after building, although speed did take a toll on qualitative details such as the doors on some of the houses being a bit unevenly set in place. It was all mild inconveniences, though. As the chieftain inspected the work of his builders, a lumberjack ran up to him. He recognized the orc as Guntag, one of those assigned to oversee the lumber production. His brow was covered in sweat and the orc’s skin was pale, speaking of bad news. [i]”Chief! Come quick, there’s some sort of creature hindering us from our work!”[/i] Rukdug gritted his teeth and gathered a few warriors with him and hastily marched over to the lumber yard. There, on forest’s edge, a creature made of wood and bone stood. It’s head and body was that of a stag fused with a man, but skeletal. It’s head was a skull, the eyesockets black, mighty large horns stretching outward so far that Rukdug wondered how on earth that creature walked through the forest without getting stuck everywhere. Furthermore, it had the upper body of a man, with long limbs that could reach all the way down to the forest floor. The lower body was that of a stag, with skeletal cloven hooves below. Most lumberworkers were frightened beyond belief at the ghastly creature. It was covered in moss of sickly green hues, and the texture of the skeletal body reminded of rotting bark or molding fungi. It was probably twelve feet tall from what Rukdug could make out from a distance. As if that wasn’t enough, the hideous creature was accompanied by a pack of wolves, equally sickly and covered in mold and moss. They seemed alive still, but bound to the will of their master. There were at least a dozen of them, but more could be hiding further in. As Rukdug looked up, he realized the evening was turning into night fast. Clouds gathered and the sun seemed to retreat faster and faster. As shade fell over the grounds, an earie teal glow overtook the silhouette of the creature and its companions. Still, it did nothing, said nothing. It stood only along the border of the forest, were thick forest met stumps and felled timber. What will Rukdug and his orcs do? [hider=The Stranger from the forest][img]https://www.worldanvil.com/uploads/images/d1688c37e8a7ac49500746d74b6c6747.jpg[/img][/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] 1082 [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]95%[/color] [i]-5% from events.[/i] [b]Foreign relations:[/b] You have not met any other civilizations yet. [/hider] [/hider] [h3][color=teal]The Wanderers Tribe[/color][/h3] [@CleanBreeze] [color=red]Has dropped out! :( Will be replaced by new player starting this turn.[/color] [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 3]With calm, slow movements and gestures, Guthug managed to keep the bearmen at bay. They lowered their weapons and exchanged glances, before the black-furred leader of the group stepped forward. They had been observing and listening to Guthug as he tried to plea his case. The blackfur grunted at his companions, who turned around and left, back into the shrubbery from where they came. The blackfur remained, however. He stretched out a closed hand towards Guthug. So massive was the bearman that his paw was easily the size of Guthug’s chest. Guthug extended his hand, and the blackfur dropped a small pouch in his hand. Confused, he blinked and managed to incline his head. [i]”Thank you.”[/i] said Guthug. The bearman inclined his head back, and muttered [i]”Akrosh.”[/i]. He pointed towards where the stag had escaped, then left. Guthug inspected the small pouch he had been given, and opened it. Inside was the tip of a stag’s antler, the claw of a bear, the fang of a wolf and the feather of a hawk. Additionally, a small carved wooden idol lay in the pouch. It had the resemblance of a bearman, but was crudely made. Guthug continued his journey. He followed the tracks the stag had made, and eventually managed to find the herd. Over a ridge in a clearing, they stood grazing in the sun. As the wind caught the leaves, the sun’s rays threw glittering shapes of shadow on the edges of the clearing. Then, as Guthug was figuring out which beast to fell and how to do it, the lord of the herd emerged. It was the largest stag he had ever seen, with white fur so bright and clean it almost seemed to glitter like diamonds in the sun. Huge antlers stretched like an oak crown upon the creature’s head, and Guthug new instantly this was not just any common beast. This must be one of Akrosh’s servants. This must be the creature his God intended for him to hunt. The White Stag was his prize, and by claiming it’s life, Guthug would ensure prosperity for his people and glory for himself. Overtaken by extasy, Guthug charged from his hiding-spot. With spear in hand, the herd parted in fear as he charged towards the White Stag. In a split second, the creature looked at him, and Guthug almost felt like time slowed down for that one moment. Then his spear hit true. As he fell to the ground with the stag, the herd scattered in every direction and the winds began to sing among the leaves. Alone in the middle of the clearing, Guthug stood above his prize. He drew heavy breaths, for he was excited beyond exaltment. Before his eyes, the White Stag turned to wind and evaporated, turning into a spirit and joining Akrosh in the realms of the ancestors. Guthug fell to his knees and opened his hands toward the sky. [i]”Akrosh!”[/i] he called out. [i]”I claim my prize! I have ventured alone and taken the rite of the stag! Grant me my just blessing!”[/i] The winds grew fierce, swirling around the clearing as if it was in the eye of a storm. The clouds above parted, and a bright light emerged. The White Stag emerged in spirit-form, and descended onto the ground before Guthug. It bowed it’s head low, and in that instant Guthug was filled with strength. He knew then, Akrosh had given him his blessing. The Spirit of the Stag was now bound to Guthug and his tribe for as long as he live. - Back home in Bukradul, the orcs were faring fine without their chieftain. With every day with him gone however, the orcs grew restless, but still they had faith in their leader. With plenty of lumber to be harvested from the forest, the orcs set about erecting a wall to enclose their settlement. With the steep cliffs to their east, they needed only half a circle around their home. Each entrance was carefully planned out so that they weren’t put in a vulnerable position, and constructed in such a way that they could add some sort of gate or portcullis later. For now, the entrances were just open, with some fortifications out of timber in case of war. The workers gave it their all. Each orc had their family in mind, and so building this wall to protect them was a strong goal. It would still take some time to finish the wall, but just as they had come halfway, they spotted a figure in the distance, emerging from the treeline. It was Guthug, wearing the pelt of a white stag, wearing it’s crown as his own. The people rejoiced the return of their chieftain, and the blessing of the stag attained. [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] 1082 [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=green]105%[/color] [i]+5% bonus for 5 turns.[/i] [b]Foreign relations:[/b] [list][*][b]Bearmen[/b] – [color=yellow]Indifferent[/color][/list] [/hider] [/hider] [h3][color=peru]The Hogtusk Tribe[/color][/h3] [@AdorableSaucer] [Hider=Turn 3]Rog-mohog needed a hut. A house. A mansion! A worthy dwelling of a chieftain. A warboss. An overlord! He gathered his “builders” and his enforcers and addressed them. [i]”Roight you sorry gits. I’ve been tryin’a get sumone t’make me a hut. NO ONE HAS!! Can you believe it? A boss without a HUT?”[/i] The crowd murmured. [i]”Yeah that does seem bad…”[/i] someone said. [i]”Ya damn roight it is! So! I’m gunna make ya an offa’. Whoeva’ manages to make me th’ biggest, bestest, bossiest hut will be promoted to… Uh… Head builda!”[/i] Rog-mohog announced, pleased with his choice of title. The crowd wasn’t as impressed. [i]”But we buildin’ huts, not heads…”[/i] said one particularly idiotic ogre. [i]”Fine… Ya’ll be promoted to… Buildin’ Ogre numba wun!”[/i] Rog-mohog tried again. He didn’t really give a damn about the title, he just wanted a hut. Once more however, the crowd was unimpressed. [i]”Ah can’t even count! Which numba is wun?”[/i] said another especially dumb ogre. [i]”FINE, fine ya greedy sods… Whoeva builds me the bestest hut will be promoted ta… Errrr.. MASTA BUILDA! Ya, masta builda o’ da Hogtusks! How about that, ey?”[/i] The ogres cheered and applauded. [i]”YAA, MASTA BUILDA!”[/i] they shouted. [i]”Oooh we is buildin’! Now I gets it!”[/i] said the particularly idiotic ogre. [i]”Whot? Wha’ about us?”[/i] said the enforcers. [i]”We wants a title too!”[/i] Rog-mohog covered his face with his palm. [i]”Your job is to make sure the builders keep buildin’! And not slack off! Ya reward is the opportunity ta beat sum ‘eads without those ‘eads beatin’ back, ya get?”[/i] Rog-mohog explained. [i]”Aye, aye, but we wants a title too! Bestest beater gets title!”[/i] the enforcers demanded. [i]”Argh, fine! Bestest beater gets Masta Beata title!”[/i] Rog-mohog yelled. The crowd fell silent. They looked at each other and whispered a bit. The enforcers seemed to deliberate among themselves, much to the surprise and utter confusion of Rog-mohog. [i]”Come t’think ovit boss, we don’t wants a title after alls.”[/i] said the enforcers. Then everyone just went about their business. The builders went around gathering stuff for their hut-building and the enforcers followed close behind with their sticks and clubs to make sure no one wasn’t doing their job. Rog-mohog scratched his head confused, but thought it best not to think too much about it. He had managed to solve not only the issue of him not having a lordly hut, but also the fact that many ogres don’t have huts. They would build a dozen huts, he’d take the best one, and the others would serve as huts for families and storage. All without too much motivation. Truly, Rog-mohog was a master of speechcraft among ogrekind. Meanwhile, the raiding party had already managed to scrape together 50 brutes and run off quite a distance westward. It took them a few days, but they managed to find the debris again. And as if that wasn’t enough, they had heard what sounded like a lightning strike off in the distance, followed by a small pillar of smoke. It would take them several more days to get there, but the raiding party was happy to finally have something to raid. While walking among the debris trail, Snaglag the ogress noticed something on the ground. [i]”Whas-this?”[/i] she said to herself, picking it up. It was soft and squishy, not at all like the metal and wood that littered the ground. Funniest thing, when squishing it in her hand it made a groaning sound! Wait… This isn’t a thing! It’s a LIVE thing! [i]”YEEK!”[/i] she yelped, jerking her hand back and dropping the groaning creature. The small, human-looking thing seemed hurt and bruised. It’s breathing was laboured and wearing fancy, albeit burned, clothing. It had a mustasche that seemed to go in all directions, and a red hat with the top burned off. [i]”Oi! Boys!”[/i] Snaglag shouted to the others, who were already making their way over to her after she had yelped. [i]”Look! I found a thing! Is alive!”[/i] she said, pointing a large chubby finger at the tiny creature. [i]”Issit human?”[/i] one brute said. [i]”Is too small!”[/i] said another. [i]”Oi, make way.”[/i] said Crunch, shoving the ogres aside. [i]”Looks like a small ‘umie to me.”[/i] he said, squatting down. As he did, the gnome opened his eyes. He gasped as he realized what was before him. [i]”Yaagh! Ogres!”[/i] he let out, but then groaned and clutched his ribs in pain. [i]”Oi, small ‘umie, don’t yell at me.”[/i] said Crunch, frowning so hard his two brows became one. [i]”Human?! I’m not human you giant degenerate! I’m a gnome! And if you don’t leave me alone my comrades will surely avenge me! If… They’re alive![/i] the gnome exclaimed, although that last part slightly quieter. The ogres looked at each other and grinned. [i]”Comrades, huh?”[/i] said Crunch. [i]”Oh no…”[/i] said the gnome. [color=gray](Do what you want with the gnome.)[/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] 955 [b]Livestock:[/b] 42 pigs, 27 goats 21 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]101%[/color] [i]+1% from raiding party[/i] [b]Foreign relations:[/b] [list][*][b][color=red]Red Cap Junta[/color][/b] – [color=orange]Unfriendly[/color][/list] [/hider] [/hider] [h3][color=red]The Red Cap Junta[/color][/h3] [@Cyclone] [Hider=Turn 3][i]”Here’s your timber.”[/i] said Bronzeburn, annoyed, and gestured with his hand toward the felled tree. [i]”What? This is just a felled tree! Yes it’s timber, but where’s the [b]quality[/b]?!”[/i] Treecog exclaimed. Bronzeburn’s cheeks grew as red as his hat. [i]”The director himself felled this tree! If you ask for timber and get timber – what is the problem?!”[/i] Treecog covered his face with his palm. [i]”Look. This is a great tree. The greatest, I’m sure. And I appreciate the director’s … Hand’s on approach.”[/i] he started. [i]”But I need something … Else. Something stronger. Something more flexible. I’m asking you to not just get me timber – I’m asking you to find the [b]best[/b] timber. You talk of your project as if it is the greatest task of gnomekind ever undertaken – then I assume you need nothing but the best.”[/i] Bronzeburn narrowed his eyes. Treecog was right. His expertise was nowhere near Treecog’s, so he assumed it was like… Iron. The better refined iron, the better quality steel. And he was damn right that Bronzeburn’s task was perhaps the most important task ever. [i]”Fine. What do you propose?”[/i] Bronzeburn gave in. [i]”This log will do fine for housing, but not for us. I heard of a great forest to the far north-west. One of the lookouts said he saw it stretch across the horizon as we made our way inland. I was too busy with repairs, I don’t even know the color of the sky around that time, but I do believe the lookouts. In a vast, boundless forest, surely there must be at least one tree that meet our standards, yes?”[/i] Treecog said, something calming himself as he spoke. [i]”So you propose an expedition, then. To find… A tree.”[/i] [i]”Not just any tree! It would be like finding the best goldmine, the greatest gem in a mountain, the most fertile valley to plant crops in… Why does everyone just think of trees as JUST TREES?”[/i] Eventually, the two ranted on and on, and not much work was made that day. However, both agreed finally that for the greatest of projects – the greatest of materials was needed. In the meantime, Bronzeburn was searching the camp for junk or scrap to find fragments of destroyed fuel-crystals. [hider=The Dwarven Banner][img] http://www.bugmansbrewery.com/gallerypics/1178899826/gallery_4_141193.jpg[/img][/hider] The white-bearded dwarves waited patiently by the entrance to the camp. The speaker, nobly dressed and decorated with fancy braid-holders in his beard, carefully stroked his long beard and rubbed his fingers together as he waited to be addressed. They seemed to be in no hurry. From underneath the thick helmets of the escorting warriors, dark brows and vigilant eyes watched the gnomes’ every move. After a while, the only surviving psychologist of the great exile stumbled out of his hut, having hastily put together his tools and instruments and papers to administer the exam. He is a ragged gnome, hunched and aged and with three pairs of glasses either upon his brow, hanging from his neck or dangling from his shirt collar. [i]”Ah, err, ouf… Hold on.”[/i] he said to the dwarf as he made his way down the very-not-steep-at-all steps the short way from the camp entrance to where the dwarves were standing. The envoy seemed unimpressed. [i]”Are you the leader of this… Encampment?”[/i] said the dwarf. [i]”Who, me? Oh, cogs no! I’m Rufflebrow, psychologist of the party. I’m here to administer the Zekel-Voight-Greasegear analysis.”[/i] he responded, adjusting his glasses and squinting his eyes. [i]”The what?”[/I] said the envoy. [i]”The Zekel-Voight—“[/i] [i]”YES, yes, I heard ye the first time. What in tarnation does it mean?”[/i] [i]”Well, if you permit, I will ask you some questions and examine your head circumference among other things to determine your intelligence on a scale of 0 to gnome.”[/i] said Rufflebrow, rather bluntly. [i]”This must be some idea of a joke.”[/i] said the envoy, exchanging glances with his fellow clansmen, who shrugged. [i]”Pffth!”[/i] sputtered Rufflebrow, sending droplets of spit in many directions. [i]”The Zekel-Voight-Greasegear exam is by [b]no[/b] means a joke, stranger! Besides where I’m from it is customary to introduce oneself before so utterly insulting one’s profession!”[/i] The envoy stuttered in response, seemingly taken quite by surprise. [i]”Why of course, do forgive my impudence, Mr. Rufflebrow. I am Gadrik and I speak for King Yaron the third of the Whitebeard Clan, Lord of the Marble and Silver Mountains.”[/i] Rufflebrow simply listened, and did not respond. He seemed rather aloof at all the words being thrown around. The second dwarven envoy, equally glamorously dressed but with an extravagantly twirled mustasche, had to step in and clear his throat to snap Rufflebrow back into reality. [i]”What? Oh, yes. Of course. King Yaron you say? Right. White beards indeed.”[/i] Rufflebrow said, nodding and stroking his own scraggly beard, equally white as the dwarves’. [i]”Well, if you don’t mind, I will now administer the test.”[/i] The two envoys looked at each other, astounded. Then they shrugged, faced Rufflebrow again and nodded. [i]”Fine.”[/i] An hour later, the psychologist was done with his examination of all twelve dwarves. The warriors had refused to remove their helmets however, and so Rufflebrow’s idea of their intellect was limited. [i]”Very well. I shall go talk to the director of the party and, hopefully, he will come to address you soon.”[/i] said Rufflebrow, turned slowly and made his way back up the very-not-steep-at-all steps. The dwarves were simply rubbing their eyes in annoyance and boredom, but probably confusion as well. When finally Rufflebrow found Glough, he was observing the dwarves from afar. [i]”Well?”[/i] he demanded. [i]”What of the exam?”[/i] Rufflebrow adjusted his glasses and shuffled his papers. [i]”Well, according to my calculations and experience, I’d say these ‘dwarves’ are about a 0,3 on the Zekel-Voight-Greasegear scale of intelligence. The one with the twirly mustasche seemed slightly less inclined to quick problem-solving than the Gadrik fellow, and as for the warriors they refused to remove their helmets so I can only estimate them to be about around the same. If these specimens are an accurate median of their race however, I cannot say.”[/i] Rufflebrow presented his verdict, quite coherently and without pause for once. Would the director welcome the new arrivals or would he send them away? [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] 516 [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=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=yellow]75%[/color] [b]Foreign relations:[/b] [list][*][b]Whitebeard Dwarves[/b] – [color=yellow]Indifferent[/color][/list] [/hider] [/hider] [h3][color=green]Kingdom of Brightland[/color][/h3] [@Schylerwalker] [color=red]No post found.[/color] [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] [color=red]No post found.[/color] [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]