[centre][h1]The Great, uh, Till, Part Three: Seeding the Waters[/h1][/centre] [hr] [h2]SMOCK![/h2] The rock went flying into the far reaches of the stratosphere, disappearing with a neat little blink. The bull furrowed his brow and noted down a sorry excuse for a number on a spreadsheet drawn into the mud. “... Three… No, two…” He then raised the Hoepebreaker perpendicular to himself and inspected its curvature. A free hand scratched some topsoil out of his beard. After an inspection that seemed more like a ritual formality than a genuine inquiry into the potency of his weapon, he lowered it again and placed a new rock on a small protrusion from the soil at his feet. He clicked his heels together, pushing his cellulite-webbed thighs together with a sticky squish. He tossed his head around his neck for a swing, breathed in deep through the nose and swung his club upwards in a rightwards-going arc. “FOOOOORE!” [h2]SMOCK![/h2] Like the former, this rock too went soaring into the distance. After a brief inspection of its trajectory, the bull scratched down another number. “... Three…” It was then that a desperate posse of snouters came limping over from below the hill upon which the bull stood. They were pock-marked and studded with insects bites; many looked pale and weak from bloodloss; some had open wounds and gangrenous digits. The strongest among them, a once-mighty hesnouter whose powerful belly fat had deflated into starved flab, crept forward and looked up at the bull, who once again had taken to inspecting his club. “Lord, please!” begged the hog with a back-up chorus of weeping whimpers. “Please help us with the blood swarm!” “Fix it yourselves,” retorted the bull and readied another rock. The snouters wept. “But lord! We can’t! They are too many - the sky is black with flies! The fields are yellow with locusts!” He slapped at his bleeding skin. “Our bodies are red with bloodsuckers fat on snouter blood! We’ve tried swatting them; we’ve tried smoking them–by Misri, lord, Zuup the Unfull even tried to eat them! Nothing’s working!” The bull was quiet for a bit. Then he thundered a rumbling groan. “... Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine… I remember the days when cosmic flies would tickle me around the rump…” His eyes stared a thousand yards into the distance. “... My tail could never seem to hit them where it hurt. Let’s get this over with…” He packed up and swung his hoe over his shoulder. The snouters cheered as loudly as their sick bodies allowed as the bull stomped past them. “Thank you, Oxen One! O-oh wait! Wait, please! My lord, it’s this way!” [hr] Unbeknownst to the bull and the snouters, his day of golfing hadn’t been without consequences. Thousands of kilometres away, on the far side of the planet, a still and otherwise unoffended region of Shangshi-La had been peppered and pocked by meteorites crashing into the water. Steam had risen and formed impenetrable fog that sent the local birdlife into a blind flight. Fish near the surface had been boiled alive, and that which had been lucky enough to escape soon became the victims of that which came out of the fog. Out of the curtain of white came men of green and brown, skin shining like polished metal. Their bodies were smooth of texture and lean of form, but betrayed a visage of weakness. The first hand to snatch a fish proved that they were anything but. These tall, lanky creatures descended from the edges of the craters they had hatched from and descended into the waters of Shangshi-La, blending into the deep rivers like wood and ferns. The only indicator of their presence was, just before they would strike, the victim would discern just barely a pair of fiery red eyes in the water before them. [hr] A small distance away, a small village of beastmen was engaged in their daily routines of fishing, gathering and tending the crops. The waters of the Shangshi could be harsh at times, but fair for the most part. It was a life of variance and challenge, perfect for a rowdy beastman. Here they ate the growths that lived by the river and cultivated some of them, too. And as always - the river’s bounty was there to fill in the rest. It wasn’t paradise, but almost something better; one had to work, but never to the bone. Life here struck a balance of tough and fair, just like the Shangshi. It was then that one day, the balance shifted. Dusowa was only one of the children playing by the riverside when it happened. He couldn’t quite remember what had happened exactly, but some visions just never left his skull since. He recalled only right up until before the tragedy. Him and seven other children had played catch by the river. A boy older than him had caught the clump of mud and hay they used for a ball and stepped into the river to do so. As he had made his way back up on the bank, the river behind him had lit up like a blood-red starry night. After that, his memories became a blur. He remembered running away after that, the taste of blood in his mouth and the stink of fear in his nose. On occasion, he saw webbed hands and crimson eyes in the shadows. He saw meteors of slick, slimy flesh descend from the sky and crush his friends and his parents. He saw tongues longer than arms; he saw shadows be kicked through several tents in a row. He had been the lucky survivor. Maybe there had been others, too - he did not know. He had only ran and ran until he had reached the next village over. There, he had told his story, or what little he remembered of it. There was, however, one last detail he could not explain properly, even though he remembered it clear as day. He wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t know what it was or because the very thought caused his breathing to accelerate and his body to cringe in fright. An endlessly long chorus of croaks, celebrating the rush of battle and slaughter. [hider=Summaree] Hummus plays golf with some rocks until some snouters beg him to fix the blood swarm issue. He reluctantly agrees and shuffles off to do that in [FUTURE POST]. Meanwhile, the rocks he golfed way far away into Shangshi-La hatch into frogs upon arrival, which immediately start raiding the areas near where they landed.. Oh my! [/hider] [hider=EmPee] Hummus - 10MP 4MP - Create the croakers, a race of sapient frogfolk with an innate understanding of aquaculture. This knowledge can be shared with other cultures and races (+1MP cost). Croakers are also natural jumpers and swimmers. Adults breathe air, but can hold their breaths for up to an hour. Children have gills and breathe underwater. Over the course of childhood, croakers gradually grow arms and legs and lose their ability to breathe underwater, and will thus gradually move further and further onto land to settle into adulthood. Croakers are generally slim and lean, but can be quite powerful and should not be underestimated in a battle. Their kicks are deadly - [i]hwatcha![/i] 6MP remaining. [/hider]