[center][h1][b] [color=black]🎲[/color][color=gold] 𝒜𝓁𝑒𝒸𝒽𝒾𝑜𝓇 [/color][color=black]🎺[/color] [/b][/h1][/center] The valley would need residents soon, that much was obvious. A paradise of chance with no one living in it was just a fancy coin tossed into an empty well. Before wandering off to scoop up Tribxor and his tribe, it made sense to check in on the first batch of mortals. The ur-humans, as Sarhush insisted on calling them. They stepped through the curtain of distorted space that marked the valley’s edge. Reality pinched, stretched, then flipped itself. A few heartbeats later, Alechior stood on the shoreline of the first island, the one where everything began. And everything had changed. Smoke curled from several controlled hearths even as the rain kept pouring, lightning striking from time to time from some birds that flew above. The scent of cooked meat lingered in the air, not the accidental kind either. Clothing. Primitive, yes, but clothing nonetheless was present too! Tools lay neatly stacked near the water. Stone flakes littered the ground around knapping spots where the ur-humans had been practicing. Freshly sharpened axes leaned against a fallen tree, their edges chipped but obviously used for woodcutting. Built shelter. Alechior leaned back on their heels, eyebrows raised. “Well,” they muttered, “someone’s been busy.” The mortals themselves wandered the camp with some purpose, not the frightened stumbling Alechior remembered. They moved confidently between tasks, talking with a shared vocabulary that had grown past pointing and grunting. Sarhush had not just taught them skills, he had given them direction. Alechior grinned, sharp and pleased. “Looks like Sarhush has been spoiling you lot. Good. Saves me time.” They strolled forward, curious eyes wandering, but still invisible to the human eye. If the valley was going to become the ultimate gamble, then finding mortals ready to handle risk instead of tripping over their own feet was a pretty solid starting hand. Sarhush’s efforts meant Alechior could focus on choosing who fit best rather than babysitting. These ur humans, seemed promising. Skilled enough to survive, still naive enough to be fun. Perfect. Alechior’s attention snagged on a strange little scene near the treeline. One of the more primitive ur humans, a fellow with the vacant stare of someone still figuring out which end of a stick to hold, was holding a bronze tongue. A literal metal tongue, crudely shaped yet clearly divine in origin. Before Alechior could decide whether to laugh or sigh, the primitive one smacked another ur-human across the arm with it. The struck mortal flinched, blinked twice, then suddenly blurted out a perfectly structured sentence. Not a guess, not a mimicry, full language, as if someone installed grammar in his skull. Alechior pinched the bridge of their nose. “Sarhush, what in the golden odds are you feeding these people?” The choice was simple. Alechior stepped forward, lifted a hand, and the primitive ur-humans slumped gently into sleep. The bronze tongue slid from his fingers, caught mid fall by Alechior’s own. Then, with a flick of their wrist, they touched each mortal on the forehead. A golden spot bloomed under their fingertip, warm and faintly shimmering. [hider=Actions] Blessed two ur-humans of Sarhush with happiness. These two will always be happy and try to make others happy as well, either via jokes or simple actions they do. In Domain - Lucid Action - 0 Conviction These two blessed ur-humans have also been taught the meaning of gambling. In Domain - Lucid Action - 0 Conviction Also they've both been changed with [b]Alechior's Random Genetics![/b] [/hider] Alechior drifted through the settlement with a sharper eye now, scanning the clusters of ur-humans until a handful stood out. These ones moved differently, with purpose. One knapped flint with clumsy but clear strikes, another tended a fire without panicking, and a third scraped bark into strands that vaguely resembled clothing. They weren’t geniuses, but they got it, the way a gambler spots someone who understands the rules well enough not to fold immediately. Perfect candidates for relocation. A chuckle escaped them as they raised a hand. One by one, the chosen ur-humans slumped gently into sleep, caught mid movement as though paused by a benevolent puppeteer. Alechior gathered them up with grace, mortals drifting weightless in the air around them like oddly shaped balloons. “My peps are going to need a few who at least know which end of progress to hold,” they mused. With that, Alechior rose into the sky and crossed the sea, descending upon Tribxor’s island before setting the sleepers down in the grass. A neat little starter kit for civilization. Alechior arrived carrying the sleeping ur-humans like a pile of luggage, lowering each one gently onto the grass at the edge of Tribxor’s "camp" which seemed to be a Singing Grove, a unintended but definitely good side-effect of the Happy Plants. Tribxor’s tribe gathered in a cautious semicircle, poking and sniffing at the newcomers as if expecting them to sprout horns. Alechior simply dusted off their hands, satisfied. “Fresh imports,” they said, “slightly smarter than the local stock. Try not to eat them.” Then, with the new arrivals settled, they turned to find Tribxor. The difference, upon spotting Tribxor and the main part of his group was immediate. When Alechior had left, they were little more than wandering stomachs with limbs, but now they moved in loose formation, reacting to Tribxor’s gestures and vocalizations with something close to coherence. No fire, no tools, no tricks, but they at least weren’t walking in circles or trying to eat rocks anymore. Tribxor stood at the center, arms raised, issuing something that resembled commands. It was crude leadership, but leadership nonetheless. Alechior watched for a moment with a proud smirk. Tribxor spotted them and let out a booming greeting, the whole group turning to follow his focus. They were still primitive as sin, sure, but they moved with direction now. The structure was there, in spirit if not in skill, and that was enough to make Alechior’s fingers itch for the next nudge. They stepped forward, pulling the bronze tongue from their belt. “I name thee, Tribxor,” they announced with amused gravity, “you have done well. Time to level up.” Before the giant could ask or grunt or flex, Alechior tapped him lightly with the bronze tongue. Something snapped in Tribxor as he blinked and froze for a heartbeat. He inhaled sharply as meaning flooded in, words forming where there had only been instincts. The mortals stared in confusion, waiting to see whether their leader would explode or ascend. Alechior just grinned. “Welcome to language, big guy.” [center][i][b][color=gold]To be continued[/color][/b][/i][/center] [hider=Summary] Alechior relocates some of Sarhush's people to their island and teaches, using the Bronze Tongue of Words which they also relocated from Sarhush's people, Tribxor how to talk. To be continued in a different post. [/hider]