[centre][img]https://coastalpeoples.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/37158-Haida-Beaver-Totem-2_600px.jpg[/img]
[h2]The Voganids[/h2][/centre]
[hr]
Location: [b]The dam of Plotina, home of the Nolin Clan[/b].
[hr]
It had almost been a year since the Awakening Song, the moment the first bjorks opened their eyes there in the Glade of the Singing Maker to find their creator dancing and drinking with a mouth full of song and joy. After the Maker had fallen asleep, the bjorks had waited a long time for him to wake up again - however, they hadn’t stayed long before the forest’s inhabitants grew curious as to what these new creatures were. The bjorks had been lucky, for the Maker’s stupor had ended in a river, which showed them the way to safety. As bears, wolves, tigers and eagles filled the tree line with salivating mouths, the bjorks had all dived for the water and escaped. As eagles had tailed them from the skies, the bjorks had split up to divert the predators’ attention. One small group had headed towards the south, following the river for hours and using the cover of reeds and giant leaves to hide from the demons in the sky. Eventually, the river they swam in tributed into another river, and there, the eagles gave up. This was the Tupil, “the heavenly path”, and the group had followed it until they had reached a section of rocky rapids. Here, they dared not go further, so they gathered at the bank and hid in the shadows of the canopy. Here, they had counted the individuals among them and, by law of strength and size, Nolinya, as the seemingly oldest and largest female among them, declared that she would take them under her wing as the leader.

“This world will evidently not wait for us to adjust to it at our own pace; we have no choice but to play by its rules until we are strong enough to change them as we like!”

The other bjorks, cold and homeless as they were in this new, unknown land, had agreed without protest, and so Nolinya had founded Clan Nolin and declared herself its leader, its [i]boyara[/i]. To establish the hierarchy properly, she had had her followers swear fealty to her and her leadership.

“Chip off a piece of both your front teeth.” She had taken stalks of water lilies and twined these into a fibrous thread. “I will string them on this necklace and keep them with me at all times. That way, I will know of your loyalty to me wherever I go, and I will protect you all with my strength and body.” Her eyes had then taken on an accusive shadow and she had spoken, “You will also remember what you gave up everytime you see it - and what more I can take from you should you rebel against me.”

The matriarch’s sudden shift in tone had come as a surprise to most, and for a moment, the jitter of feet and flicker of eyes had indicated that some were about to turn tail. However, a distant eagle scream and the howl of a wolf had shattered any notions of instability in the flock. If Nolinya could keep good on her promise to take them under her wing and protect them, then that was better than taking their chances in the wild, unknown woods… Right?

So then teeth had been chipped and the necklace made. A sharp stone had been passed around the congregation and everyone, old and young, big and small, had offered a chip to the necklace, which Nolinya had dubbed the Clan String. With it around her neck like a mane of yellow spikes, she had climbed upon a rock and pointed to the trees they had just hidden under. 

“Now then, my people - we have no time to lose! We have enemies in the sky and rivals in the woods - the water is our only ally here!”

The crowd had looked at the trees - their instincts had told them what to do. Their matriarch had clarified it further so they would commence: “Gnaw them down - gnaw them all down! Toss them into the river and lay them against the rocks! Take branches, dirt, leaves and mud - build us a fortress in the river that nothing can break!”

And so the bjorks of Clan Nolin had set out to construct their home dam of Plotina, which had started as a few logs close to the banks by the rocky rapids. Against these, the bjorks tossed mud, dirt and branches into the water to build a strong foundation. It took days, and many were taken by predators both in the day and night. The simple spears they tried to defend themselves with were hopelessly ineffective against bear and eagle alike, and served better as poles to ground foundations or as fence posts in food storages. After the first week, however, the first den in the dam had been made, complete with entrances to the front and the back of the dam. Here, Nolinya and her closest would rest; the others could sleep at her entrance or in the holes and small caves they had dug on land for the time being. 

It didn’t take long, though, before Clan Nolin had suffered too many losses to the forces of nature: A group of foragers had been attached by a territorial stag and two of them had gotten wounded; a lumberjack had lost her life after a falling tree crushed her and instantly killed her; two diggers had gotten into a fight with a furious wood grouse and one had been badly scratched up and unable to work for at least two weeks - if he could stave off the fever from the infections, that was.

The prospects did not look favourably upon Clan Nolin. Nolinya could already feel those same eyes who had looked upon her with desperate hope only a month earlier now glare at her with betrayal and mistrust. She had taken them under her wing, but they were not yet safe - far from it. Nolinya grit her teeth - they didn’t have the bjorkpower. They were simply too few. The [i]boyara[/i] sat alone in her den, her head rumbling with thought. She never went to sleep without a wooden stake at an arm’s length away now; she could be dethroned any day. 

“Matriarch,” came a greeting voice. Instinct made her reach out her right arm, but she stopped herself as her eyes set on the entrant, a male named Rusan in the process of shaking the water out of his fur. Nolinya squinted suspiciously, but pulled her hand back and took a reserved stance with not a too distant leaping distance to the other exit. 

“Rusan. What business do you have?”

The male nodded his head and eyed the other exit. He didn’t comment on it, but smacked his lips and said, “The Wilds test us again, matriarch. A terrible tragedy has occurred: Ververa has been slain by a lynx.”

“A lynx?! What was she doing, the fool?!” snarled the matriarch and dragged a hand down the length of her face. The messenger remained stone-faced.

“She was picking herbs with Bilan and Piot. They made it out safely, thank the River, but Ververa…” He pressed his palm to his chest. Nolinya mimicked the gesture. “... She didn’t make it.”

Nolinya drew a slow breath of genuine sorrow. Rusan closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I offer my condolences, matriarch. Ververa was close to us all, but I know the two of you shared a bond.”

Nolinya pressed her lips together and shut her eyes hard for a brief second, dragging another slow inhale. Then her face turned its own species of stone. “A bond all women share, Rusan - nothing more. Thank you for bringing this to me. Have the gnawers fashion her a suitable log for her journey into the great beyond. Once Crone Olgyi has cleaned the body properly, have everyone gather atop the dam.”

“As you command, matriarch…” Rusan responded, but just as he was about to dive, he turned and said, “Oh, one more message.”

Nolinya looked up. “Yes?”

“An envoy from a neighbouring clan came to us this morning - one Fiodr of the Rod Clan. They have built a dam by rapids of the Dnip. He bid you welcome to his matriarch’s den for a meal and a drink.”

Nolinya squinted one eye and chewed on some air. “I will think about it. Delay an answer for now.”

“As you wish.” With that, Rusan dove back into the hole that led out into the river again. Nolinya sunk into a low seat, front paw tapping her lips in thought and her flat tail tapping at the ground. 

“A meal and a drink…”

[hr]

The dam of Voga on the Dnip was larger than Plotina, but not by much. Where Plotina had only three dens at this point, Voga looked to be sporting at least seven judging by the domed curves along the length of the dam. Nolinya squinted enviously from her place at the edge of the forest. Behind her, a small following waited nervously. Nolinya caught one of them shivering at the edge of her vision and cast him a steeling glare. 

“... D-do you think they have c-carrots?” came a small squeak from the back. Nolinya hissed.

“Shut it! Rusan!”

Rusan approached and bowed. “What is your command, [i]boyara[/i]?”

“Wait for me here. I will be going in alone. Dig in and keep watch of the woods and the skies.” With that, she crawled out of the woods and into the river, swimming towards the dam. Rusan’s face betrayed not its stony texture, and the Nolins did as they were told. Nolinya, meanwhile, approached the entrance hole under the great dam; she beheld it from below and awed for a moment at its magnitude - one day, Plotina would be just as big, if not bigger. She ducked down under water, swam through the tunnel of sticks and dirt and surfaced on the other side.

“Welcome, friend of Rod. We have been expecting you,” came a kind voice. The inside of the den wasn’t dark and gloomy like her own; no, this one had been lit with some strange, blue lights - Nolinya had never seen their likeness before. As her eyes adjusted to the very faint light, she soon began to make out faces within the room. There were three of them: two males and a female. The female was large and fat, much fatter than her, and laid upon a bed of dow and reeds in the centre of the den. The room oozed with the scents of fresh and fermented roots and waterplants, and a sweet aroma of tree sap laid thick in the air like a fume. Nolinya was almost mesmerised, and her stomach growled like a grown bear. The woman chuckled and beckoned her closer. “Oh, you poor thing - you must be famished! Come, come! The food will be served any moment.”

Nolinya wasn’t sure what made her obey, but she nonetheless moved forward and had a seat in a smaller nest of dow and grass opposite of her. There, bowls fashioned from wood by bjork teeth were laid before her, filled with salads of water plants, mashed roots with herbs and fermented tree sap. She felt her mouth deluge, inciting another chuckle from her hostess. “Please! Eat, eat! It’s not like it’s getting any warmer out. You’ll need the blubber for when the White Nights come.”

Nolinya looked up from her bowls with a skeptical look. “The White Nights?”

“Oh yes,” said her hostess. “An envoy from the Splid Clan to the north spoke of it: They say that the days grow colder, and that a white powder has begun to cover the hills and harden the water. It will no doubt reach us here soon, too.” She nodded. “So eat up, poor you! You’re as skinny as a stick!”

Nolinya hesitated. “I… I do not eat the food given by someone I don’t know.” 

The woman burst into a hearty guffaw. “Ho-ho-ho! Oh, my, what a mannerless little rat I am! Oh, my, oh my…” She flicked away a tear. “Forgive me, my dear, I was just so heartbroken by your skinny frame that I completely forgot the most basic etiquette! You must forgive me.”

Nolinya tightened her fists in a defensive rage. “It-it’s fine… You need not talk to me that way. We, we are both matriarchs of equal rank, are we not?”

The hostess smirked from ear to ear. “Oh, but of course, and since we are, it is only fair that we address each other as equals, Nolinya.” She flicked her a wink. “You may call me Luga.”

Nolinya blinked. “... You must forgive me, but I was certain your name would be--”

“Rod? Or perhaps Rodya?” Luga’s smirk broadened. “You must forgive the confusion, but I couldn’t simply name my clan after someone like myself - how selfish would that be? No, I instead named it after our saving grace, the Rod.” She reached out for her own bowl of root mash and started guzzling it down. “You should eat some,” she stressed yet again.

Nolinya felt her belly fill with rage in place of food. “I am not hungry,” she snapped back. Luga’s smirk shrunk and the matriarch rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come now… Can’t you take a little play between friends [i]of equal rank[/i]?” Upon studying her souring expression, Luga sighed. “But very well - if you’re not hungry after all, then perhaps I should feed some to the people you have hidden in the woods.”

Before Nolinya could react, she continued, “Oh yes, we’ve seen them. They look as thin as you, if not thinner.” She sighed with exaggeration. Nolinya lowered her stance, but her the steps of the other two males behind her. They closed in in anticipation of what she would do. Luga, however, continued, “Tell me, is food truly that hard to come by where you live? Why, we could feed another hundred poor souls, for sure.”

Nolinya hardened her face. A pang of guilt hammered at her heart - why had she taken charge back then, actually? She was no leader. Luga was a leader - how else had she been so much more successful than her? Why hadn’t she stepped down? Was she afraid of the consequences should the others choose to prosecute her for all the people she had gotten killed? All the burials she had caused? 

“Why have you brought me here?” she sobbed weakly. Luga raised a brow.

“Oh, darling, what are you crying for? Why else should I have brought you other than to share with your people our gorgeous bounty - to spread this prosperity to bjorks all throughout the land?” Luga rolled forward so she sat upright, tail between her legs. She reached out a paw and gently lifted Nolinya’s chin. The smaller female flexed every muscle in her face, but the tears escaped anyway. Luga tooted a sympathetic “n’aaw…”

“It-... It’s been so… So hard,” Nolinya sobbed. Luga nodded with understanding. 

“Oh yes, my dear… But you are safe now… You are all safe.”

With that, the Nolin Clan abandoned the dam at Plotina and were accepted into the Rod Clan, attracted more by the promise of food and shelter than their master’s orders. Nolinya was still [i]boyara[/i], but even she had to admit that there was no equality in rank between her and her new chieftess: Luga took the title of [i]bolshaya[/i], grand matriarch, and united the two clans as a tribe named the Voganids. Work soon continued, though it was the great dam Voga they were expanding. 

[hider=Summary]
A year has passed since the bjorks were made. Right after they were, they were scattered all over the Thousand Lakes region by predators. A female named Nolinya starts a clan Nolin and proceeds to utterly fail to make anything work: Their dam is terrible; her clansmen keep dying to predators - it’s all a shit show.

Then she gets invited to come visit another clan, the Rod clan. They’re so much richer because they have the Rod, and their matriarch is this a fat lady named Luga. Luga proceeds to guilt-trip Nolinya into joining her by saying she hasn’t fed her people and is a selfish hoe, which Nolinya eventually agrees to.
[/hider]

[hider=Vigour]
Jiugui - 8
-1 Vigour - Create the Sacred Rod: An ordinary stick that was unfortunate enough to fall directly into the beam of Jiugui’s pee during his stupor. It was found by Luga’s clan in the river, where it had been caught by a magical glowing tree which it had summoned forth. This stick gained the power to create magical lights and energise plants to grow faster. 
Jiugui - 7
[/hider]