[centre][img]https://www.arcgis.com/sharing/rest/content/items/b39101de69c340f4a752066fb6c241ea/resources/eQmQB2xwTUqPfYc0bZp0-.jpeg?w=800[/img]
[h2]The Voganids[/h2][/centre]
[hr]
Location: [b]The ruins of Dam Voga after the attack of the Green Murder[/b].
[hr]
Ruins. Ruins as far as bjork eyes could see. The raid had indiscriminately shattered stick and log alike. What humble scraps remained of their dam could hardly be called a dam anymore - the reservoir was empty, for the wall had completely broken in three spots. Out of seven dens, four had washed downriver, and nearly a hundred bjorks had been made homeless in less than an hour. The three standing dens were all in various states of brokenness, but at least they held onto their anchors in the river; one of these, luckily, had been the matriarch’s den, and Luga had come out of it to do her best to calm the masses and unite her people once more, standing atop the tallest part of the ruins.

“This is an attack! An attack, it is!” shouted one. “We must follow in the path of Mish-Cheechel the Righteous and bring down this demon!”

Luga waved her hand calmingly, but without a hint of dismissiveness. “I agree from the bottom of my heart, Psief! Those who wish to follow the Avenger, the Bane of Green Murder, may do so! All your families will be honoured and taken care of by the clan, this I swear; however, we must not let anger alone obscure the damnation the Green Murder has plunged us into!” She gestured to the dam around her. “Look at our home - our home! We cannot lose ourselves entirely to vengeance, my people - we first must rebuild!”

“But how? How can we start over from this? Not even half of us have a warm place to sleep!” came another shout.

“Our food stores… So much of it drowned in the river!”

"The White Nights are coming! Snow has been sighted on the treetops! All hope is lost!"

“Death will surely claim us now! We cannot all fit in the dens we have left!”

“Pfah! You hardly know suffering, you Rods! This was every day for us!”

Luga tossed the last speaker a rare glare. “Nolinya, you be silent!”

Nolinya climbed up on the dam so she could be seen better, but dared not climb so high as to challenge the matriarch more than she already was. “Silence is necessary at times, but not one like this, [i]bolshaya[/i]! If our people fear hunger and frozen nights so much that they cannot bring themselves to work, then all their fearsome prophecies will surely come to fruition!” She clapped her hands. “Desperate times necessitate desperate measures! [i]Bolshaya[/i]! I will take upon myself this task. Let me appoint a master builder and select a group to head upriver. We will gnaw over every tree we can find and float them downwards to serve as material for a greater, stronger dam!”

Luga was about to counter, but she heard the applause of the skinnier bjorks, most of which had until very recently been of Clan Nolin, and saw more and more Rods lose their fervour to protest. Luga sighed and waved her hand. “Then so be it. Nolinya will be in charge of resource gathering and she will appoint for us a builder to oversee the whole construction affair. Name your candidate, [i]boyara[/i]!”

Nolinya raised herself on her back legs and cast her hands into the sky. “I nominate Yaroslaw, my finest builder! Yaroslaw!”

A small, skinny manbjork skittered to the front of the crowd. “I hear the call,” he responded. Nolinya pointed to the dam she stood on.

“Can you repair this?”

The builder looked hesitant for a bit. It would be an enormous job, and he hadn’t had time to give the whole structure and overview first before Nolinya had put him on the spot. However, either because he felt the need to help in such drastic times or maybe just to save face, he shouted a firm, “Yes, [i]boyara[/i]! With skill and ease!”

Nolinya smiled smugly over at Luga. “Is the candidate likeable in the [i]bolshaya’s[/i] eyes?”

Luga furrowed her brow angrily, but said only, “... Yes. See to it that it is done well, Yaroslaw. We are all counting on you.”

[hr]

The rest of that day was quiet with mourning. Corpses were gathered and given their last rites. Their incisors were broken off and tread on thread as an extension of the Clan Strings that now all could bear to remember their fallen ones. The corpses were cleaned and mended where that was possible and wrapped in blankets of woven reeds. Not all of them were, though, as the dam didn’t have enough reeds left anymore. Then, the corpses were burned on a great pyre with the gift granted by the Burning Snake-on-the-Air and crude planks and flat stones were erected in their memory in a nearby marsh. Two dancers of the dead reenacted the Singing Maker’s jig in his Glade to remind the onlookers of the good times, donning red-clayed make-up with exaggerated smiles and copying the steps and erratic kicks and swings of someone who had had too much [i]sappivo[/i], or fermented treesap. A third actress painted her face with a blueish gray clay to look older and went from griever to griever and shared the wisdom and warmth of the Old Bjork in hard times. Even one of the Deepwood Masks, those queer, lonesome lot from the deep forests that followed the teachings of a new god named Bonetooth of the Mask, came to the ceremony with offerings of deer hide and instruments of hollow bone that he clacked together and sang to, blessing Mish-Cheechel and all his followers with luck and skill in their hunt. Many, both kit and grownbjork alike, were initially skeptical and frightened of the shaman, for he had blood in his fur and smelled like a beast. He thus wasn't accepted into the ceremony until later in the day, when the sorrow in his songs and the rhythm of his bones resonated with the growing crowd who at this point was just looking for reasons to vent. Many gathered around the dancing shaman and egged him on, cursing the Green Murder and all her cronies of the woods, and seconding the shaman's blessings over the hunters.

Meanwhile, Yaroslaw sat at the foot of the dam, though the actual foot was much deeper in the water. There, he studied the layers of clay, mud, sticks and logs inside the crushed sections of the dam. He would have to rebuild this and he would have to do it well. But this project was much bigger than anything he had ever worked on. How would he mend something dimensions larger than anything he had ever seen?

“O, Maker, o, whomever may be listening out there… How can I oversee something like this alone? How can I build something like this?”

The gentle scritch-scratching and pitter-patter of small paws on mud and logs could be heard alongside a soft humming, lilting out a sonorous tune in judgement of the dam. Clicking and popping noises joined into the chorus as, up from the back side of the dam, scurried an otter. Wait, was it an otter? The smooth-furred mustelid regularly switched from all fours to walking on two legs and looked all the part the strange love-child of numerous different species, colored and furred and shaped as he was. Eyes that glowed with moonlight even without it present peered down at the wall with intensity enough to start the flood all over again.

[color=f26522]”Nt, nt, nt, nt, nt,”[/color] came the clicking as the critter hopped up and down for a moment, testing the density of the wall, before crooning his neck to look towards Yaroslaw, [color=f26522]”It’s a start, yes, yes, yes, a start. It lacks a certain finesse but there’s raw talent here, mhm, mhm. There is still learning in you yet, I think, very much so, quite, quite, quite; Yes, very good.”[/color]

The chittering-chattering tone of the strange creature filled the air as it repeated itself, clicked, hummed and hawed. In an instant the mustelid-thing hopped onto all fours, darting closer, before following the last few steps on two legs to close the distance with Yaroslaw. One eye, moving on its own, peered off towards Yaroslaw while the rest of the creature’s head craned the other way, to continue observing the work with avid interest.

[color=f26522]”Do not worry, my friend, for a builder in need is my friend, indeed. It is so rare for a humble architect like myself to find such wondrous works, albeit somewhat rural, rustic even, left half-done. Or, undone, as it were. Yes, nt, ck, ck, yes; you will not oversee this something alone, for it isn’t a something, but a building, and you are very much no longer alone.”[/color]

Yaroslaw sniffed suspiciously - this scent was unlike any he had smelled before - but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The manbjork trundled to his feet and eyed the otter amalgam-thing, his tail raised over the water in cautious preparation. “H-how you do, stranger,” he mumbled between breaths. “I, uh, I wouldn’t come ‘round here smelling like that. The guard might catch a whiff of ya.” He pointed to the enormous dam. “B-but don’t actually leave, though! Y-you know structures like these?”

[color=f26522]”Smell? I wasn’t aware I smelled of anything,”[/color] the odd animal mumbled, leaning in to snort at its shoulder before looking back, far more interested in the question than its own scent, [color=f26522]”No; I know ALL structures. A marriage of angles and tensile strengths and aesthetics, really. Absolutely beautiful, really. Yes, yes, nt, nt, nt; I know structures like these.”[/color]

Yaroslaw's eyes filled with hope and he cast a glance over his shoulder and to the top of the dam. Smells, or even absence of smells were quick to trigger bjork territoriality, so they would have to stay hidden here in shelter from the wind and pray that it wouldn't turn. He approached the stranger some more and placed a hand on the structure. "You, uh, you wouldn't be in the mood to teach me about them, right? I've been given a quest, a mission like none I've ever received before, and it is to rebuild this dam, but not just like the way it was - the [i]boyara[/i] wants it grander, stronger - and you don't disobey the [i]boyara[/i]," he mumbled stressfully.

The divine critter looked back to the wall of earth and mud and wood and rock, clearly fascinated by the opportunities. A mind made for far grander designs stacked stone on top of log and brick in his labyrinthine head while the mustelid-thing stood with hands on hips, looking altogether imperious in his designs.

[color=f26522]”Yes, yes, we can do that. Don’t disobey, exceed, overcome! Grander, stronger, better; yes, yes, nt, nt. You will be my apprentice on this, so your name may be on it, and I, Lares, shall guide your paws! That way, we build it right.”[/color]

The apparently named Lares turned in such a way that his long, fuzzy neck and face had already began in one direction, practically pulling the rest of him along. He snuffled and sniffed and scritch and scratched at the materials he had to work with, looking about with interest. Little clicking noises erupted from his throat that echoed through the vale as he answered a billion questions for himself. One paw waved at Yaroslaw, wiggling enticingly for him to follow.

[color=f26522]”Apprentice, come quick; this mud, it is silty but smells of clay. Such a deposit would make for fine mortar! But stone, and timber; these are essential. You have good wood in your wall, well picked; not good enough alone, I think. I commend your building sense, but you will need more. What is the hardness of your teeth, there, and can you appropriately quarry and chisel stone?”[/color] Lares said, looking back at his self-proclaimed apprentice Yaroslaw over his shoulder.

The nervous builder followed and scratched his head. “Quarry? Chisel stone? Never heard of no stone in a dam before, unless it’s gravel, I think.” He skipped over a divide in the ruins. “Wait, you mean we need more than wood, dirt and clay?”

Lares waggled his finger with an accusatory side-long glance, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

[color=f26522]“Ck, ck, ck, of course,”[/color] he asserted, thrusting the other paw down to lift a river-smoothed stone and presenting it, [color=f26522]“Stone makes a good base, strong foundation. Wood pilings keep stable, dirt and mud fill the core. Make the dam bigger, stronger; very good, yes?”[/color]

Lares leans in and bites down, teeth tearing through stone like beaver-teeth through wood. He presents it confidently, now shaved down into a notched stone brick. Using a finger, he presents how the stones will lock together, albeit with some awkwardness in his demonstration.

[color=f26522]”Behold! We build it right, exceed expectations! A great hall, perhaps? A temple a top? We shall see, nt, nt, nt. Expansions come later, apprentice, do not get too excited.”[/color]

Yaroslaw didn’t know whether to pry more or walk away, so he naturally concluded that he should just follow along. “Alright, teacher - I’m all ears. Please teach me your ways!”

Lares tossed the little brick aside and closed the distance on Yaroslaw, looking him up and down with a perfunctory gaze. It was, of course, important to determine the qualities of ones’ apprentice before acting hastily. Finally, one paw shot forward and grabbed Yaroslaw by the incisors, giving them a good look and a firm tug. Evidently accepting of whatever metric he was gauging their quality by, Lares clicked his teeth.

[color=f26522]”Good, good. Nearly there. Acceptable tools, but we can do better. New tools would be wasteful, would need to teach you. Better you learn with what you have.”[/color]

With his assertion complete Lares flicked his middle finger at Yaroslaw’s incisors, his little claw clicking loudly against the yellowed teeth. A sheen rippled outward from the impact zone like a wave on water and the teeth rapidly changed color to a nearly white pearlescents, replete with almost a metallic gleam in the low moonlight. Content with his work and nodding vigorously, Lares point at the would-be dam once more.

[color=f26522]”I will teach you to quarry stone as you chew timber, and we shall build a dam like no other! It will have chambers above for storage and structural support, but we shall address that later! Your Boyara will have her dam, and WE shall build it! How exciting! Now, let us get to work.”[/color]

Yaroslaw's eyes spread wide like blossoming flowers and he flicked his own teeth in wonder. "By the Maker! What did ya do to my teeth?!" He licked them and tasted the irony flavour, blinking as though it was candy. "Does, does this mean I can chew rocks?! Ain't no bjork ever done that before!"

Lares clapped pleasantly as he nodded with a deeply satisfied expression, clearly enjoying that the bjork was appreciating his handiwork. His praise of the maker, whom Lares could only assume was the Monarch, only pleased the little critter more. [color=f26522]”Yes, yes, a fine gift, eh? My apprentice shall not work with shoddy tools! Carve stone like lumber, just don’t swallow too much. Now we simply need find our quarry and carve our blocks! The work, my apprentice, can begin! How exciting~!”[/color]
[hr]
In the days that followed, Lares and Yaroslaw set to work. With the guidance and divine assistance of his new “master”, Yaroslaw found the endurance and ability to gather the necessary materials to continue the work at a dozen times the pace of an ordinary bjork. Whenever looked in upon the strange deity would disappear, hidden from view or elsewhere other places, making sure it was never Lares but Yaroslaw who was seen doing the labors. During the day they gathered supplies and materials and during, away from prying eyes, Lares did what he does best; build. 

The dam, what was originally a simple bjork dam of muck, mud, and timber, expanded under his watchful gaze. Stone blocks, cut by Yaroslaw and divinely transferred to construction locations during the dead of night, we lowered into the soft silt and loam of the riverbed as foundations, interlocking and stacking a top one another while being abutted by thick beams of timber. Criss crossing and interwoven supports were placed, each one finely carved and left bare for later detailing. Over the course of five nights the great dam grew taller and grander and soon reached completion. 

Although the structure itself was a point of pride for Lares, so much more work needed to be poured into it. Gentle and subtle carvings were inlaid with claw and tooth and nose, stone shaping with the ease of supple clay. Simple carvings of bjork, of river, of trees and of lakes sprang up across the facade that instantly lit thoughts of home in any bjork that might look upon it. Internal passageways were carved from the bottom up, giving access into the inner workings of the hardy, divinely inspired dam. It was inside that the most work would be set, where comparatively spacious rooms were placed. It would be a comfortable stronghold with breath holes to keep it full of air yet insulated enough to keep all the biting cold away. Finally, a respectable hall was made, enough to hold two dozen or so bjorks comfortably and even more if they didn’t mind rubbing shoulders. 

Throughout it all Lares made sure to educate his apprentice appropriately, explaining everything he did. He was, of course, the Majordomo of the Monarch and could not be matched in such things, but he could certainly teach some of what he knew to his apprentice. What good, after all, could come from an apprentice who knew nothing of the work he was meant to do? Each new piece of structure or assemblage was explained, in detail, and the physics therein loosely elucidated upon the bjork apprentice of the God of Homes. 

On the sixth night Lares assembled a final piece of the puzzle, easily rigged up onto a slide to be dropped into place. The block, essential for holding back all waters no matter how high, was to be the honor of Yaroslaw’s to place. With a simple wooden beam holding it up and a solid, heavy mallet given to his apprentice to finish the job, Lares sat back and grinned his creature-smile.

[color=f26522]”There we have it, yes, yes, apprentice! Now THAT is a dam worthy of the name! It is THE dam now, I should say, ct, ct. The honor is yours, for it is your dam from here on out.”[/color]

Yaroslaw could hardly believe his eyes. Had he truly built that? He lowered his mallet and tapped the final stone thoughtfully. He looked down at his master, then out towards the crowds in the river below, who all screamed their cheers and chanted the name, "BOULDERBITE! BOULDERBITE!" 

Yaroslaw rubbed the shiny incisors given to him by the strange otter and was about to hop down from the dam and say, "The honour isn't mine!" But then, the other bjorks atop the dam picked him up and paraded him around the structure, naming him the Stonesmith, the Boulderbite, the Architect. 
[hr]
As the famed Yaroslaw Boulderbite was carried off to applaud and praise, Lares stood giddily behind his pirch upon the top of the dam. Everything had gone so perfectly! His apprentice would spread the ways of working homes properly and all would be well with the world, of that Lares was certain.  

[hider=Summary]
Flashback to the moments after the Green Murder fucked over the Voganids. Everyone's mad at Phelenia and Mish is basically a saint. After some sobbing and crying, Nolinya says she'll go chomp trees to make a new dam and says her best builder Yaroslaw can oversee the job. Luga reluctantly agrees.

Yaroslaw's now a bit scuffed, though, cuz he has no idea how to build a dam this big. Then Lares comes and says he'll teach him. To do so, he gives Yaroslaw iron teeth that can gnaw through rock and helps him build the sweetest dam ever. One that cannot be destroyed by beasts as easily because it's made of stone, wood and silt.
After it is done, Yaroslaw is celebrated as a heroboi.
[/hider]

[hider=Vigour Summary]
Lares - 17 vigour.
-1 Make Yaroslaw Boulderbite a hero.
-1 Bless Yaroslaw with the ability to build dams super quickly.
Lares ending with 15 vigours.
[/hider]