Hidden 10 mos ago 8 mos ago Post by Cyclone
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Cyclone Trapped in the Past

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Note: Read the section below regarding Custom races before creating one!


All of you are different. Some of you may be the same race but your people are different. You have endured different things. You have lived in different lands. No matter where you came from, you are seeking a new life for your people. Whoever your leader is, your people follow with loyalty.
Whether you were driven out of your home, or simply seek new lands to call your own, you have all come here without knowing of the others' presence. You must survive.

Your first choices lie before you. You are...

A) Humans
- Basically average in everything, good diplomacy.
No subraces.

B) Orcs
- Has high strength, low technological capabilities and bad diplomacy.
Subraces:
A) Brownskin Orcs
The brownskins are known for their beastmastery and powerful shamanism. Tamed beasts, big or small, are quite formidable in battle and very useful in everyday life and orcish society, but no orcs can do better than the brownskins. Riding wolves is your dream, isn't it?
B) Redskin Orcs
The Redskins are known for not needing to drink water as much as other races; they barely consume a mug a day. Legend says this is because of ancestor orcs drinking the blood of their slain enemies, gaining red skin and increased stamina as a blessing from a savage bloodgod. Needless to say, the Redskins are the most brutal, ferocious and savage orc warriors there are, but don't have much in the ways of magic.
C) Greenskin Orcs
The most average of orc breeds are the greenskins. They do have a focus on druidic spiritualism instead of a shamanistic kind. They generally also breed faster than other orcs and are better builders.
D) Blackskin Orcs
The best smiths and siege-engineers of all orckind, the Blackskins use brute force in the form of superior weaponry to dominate their foes. Generally average in everything else.
X) Brute-Orcs
A not too strange name for a breed of orcs, the Brute-Orcs are a breed sharing all the characteristics of the other orc-breeds, and can therefore gain all their bonuses, but never achieve quite the height as the individual breeds can.

C) Elves
- Low reproduction, high magical capability, average strength.
Subraces:
A) High Elves
Known for their great magical prowess of all kinds and their spiritualism. Their skin is fair and their hair blonde, their eyes glowing yellow or white. The greatest mages and wizards are these.
B) Wood Elves
The greatest rangers and the best hunters of all elfkind are the Wood Elves. They are known for their ability to befriend any animal and their druidic powers are considered the best. Their skin is fair and their hair brown or ginger, their eyes glowing green or blue.
C) Dark Elves
Feared for their powerful weaponry and armor and the best footsoldiers of all elfkind, they bolster their ranks with powerful shadowmages wielding dark powers, sometimes necromantic. Their skin is pale and their hair black or white, their eyes glowing purple or red.
X) Folk Elves
This strange breed of elves are known for housing every kind of elf in their presence, effectively becoming the most diverse and average elf breed, with potential to become adept at everything the other elf breeds can do combined, but cannot reach quite the same height in any given area as a more specialized elf breed.

D) Dwarves
- Low reproduction, high strength, low speed, high intelligence, morale boost.
Subraces:
A) Whitebeards
Great dual-wield warriors, adept at slaying different monsters such as trolls and ogres.
B) Ironbeards
The greatest smiths in the lands, capable of crafting anything. They are very robust and withstand quite a punch.
C) Goldbeards
Excavators, adventurers, explorers and miners. The goldbeards are very good at scouting and discovering locations, or spying on their enemies. To hear them tell it, they also have the best luck!
D) Blackbeards
Fearsome warriors adept at wielding giant weapons into battle, they are renowned for fighting with claymores and mauls, and are also the best siege engineers around.
E) Redbeards
Great dwarven magicians, sorcerers and runesmiths, adept at controlling magic and the elements.
F) Brownbeards
The single best builders and masons in the current era, the brownbeards are renowned for having built mighty fortresses so grand that some think the halls were carved by gods instead. Doubtless, they could do it again.
X) Longbeards
Common name for a clan which has a mix of all kind of dwarven beards. Is average at everything, but cannot achieve quite the height as the more specific breeds.

E) Ogres
- Very high strength, low intelligence, low reproduction, high speed and size.
Subraces:
A) Softskins
They bear a resemblance to humans and dwarves, albeit not enough for you to ever mistake them; they're much larger and bulkier. They are seen as the most intelligent and civilized of all the ogres. As far as ogres go, they are capable of learning complex magic, building more complex things, and organizing their society in more advanced ways.
B) Bloodskins
Much like the orcish redskins, these ogres are brute-strength focused and especially savage. They are the strongest melee warriors in all the realms and are said to be very resistant to magic. Due to their violent nature, in-fighting is more prominent but growth may be higher.
C) Stonehides
Very resistant to climate temperatures such as very hot and very cold climates, and have incredibly sturdy skin. They can basically eat -anything- and therefore cannibalism of all non-ogre races is considered acceptable. Typically larger than other ogre breeds.
D) Furhides
Capable of taming beasts much like the brownskinned orcs. Despite their wild and hairy appearance, they are also very adept craftsmen compared to the rest of ogre-kind, capable of fletching bows and working leather. Their connection to the elements and spirits is closer than that of their kin.
E) Runeskins
Their name comes from the practice of tattooing strange symbols upon their bodies. Runeskins aren't more or less intelligent than any other breed, but they are capable of wielding stronger magic than their softskin counterparts. They are also very versatile, meaning they can learn magic from many different schools and not strictly one kind of magic.
X) Exile Ogres
An ogre who belong to no clan is an exile. Seeing as infighting is very common, over time a lot of exile ogres began banding together. These ogres now house members from all sub-breeds of ogre and can therefore dabble in all their benefits but cannot reach quite the height as specific breeds.

F) Trolls
- Average strength/speed, cunning, bad diplomaticy, high reproduction, can regenerate fast.
Subraces:
A) Forest Trolls
Typically green of skin, these trolls have strong shamanistic or druidic beliefs. Certain forms of magic based upon those traditions are available to them, and these trolls are at home in wooded areas. It is said that they can move as silently and stealthily in the forests as the wood elves.
B) Rock Trolls
With a hide-like skin that is gray and hard as rock, it is no wonder this breed has gotten this name. They have increased strength and intellect at the cost of slower movement and lower growth. They are large even by troll standards, with some of them so big that they might be mistaken for ogres. Through geomancy they may also channel earthly magic.
C) Dark Trolls
With black or purple skin, the Dark Trolls use shadow magic and cannibalism as the centre of their religion. They can see clearly during the night, and they have the strongest magical capability of all trollkind.
D) Blood Trolls
Redskinned and savage beyond compare. The strongest, most ferocious of all troll-kind, these trolls pride themselves in strength and find glory in war. Like the dark trolls, they practice cannibalism, but there is hardly a ritual significance so much as an insatiable bloodlust behind it. They are quite magically handicapped, but neither does magic seem to bite them as hard as other races.
E) Sand Trolls
These trolls are so-called for their beige skins just as much as their tendency to inhabit deserts, steppes, savannas, and all manner of other arid climes. They have great endurance, are not bothered by heat or sun, and can go for many days without food or drink. They are competent builders and have created some of the oldest civilizations in the world, but compared to their other brethren they are very short of stature, comparable to humans.
F) Ice Trolls
This enigmatic breed prefers to live in cold or even frozen climates, seemingly able to survive where others would see nothing but a frozen wasteland. They are tall and of exceptional physical might when compared to the other breeds of trolls. Their environmental durability is also second to none, and they can craft things that no other troll can through the use of secret methods kept to themselves. They hate fire though.
X) Unchosen
A strange self-given from long ago, these 'Unchosen' trolls are said to have been disowned by all Troll Gods and pantheons and banded together. They house all breeds of troll, thereby gaining all their strengths but also all their weaknesses and they cannot reach the same height as the other breeds.

G) Goblins
- Low strength, average intelligence, weak-willed but functions well in masses, very high reproduction, small size.
Subraces:
A) Greenskins
These goblins are the average, the basic, and the most common breed of goblin in the realms. They excel in organizing themselves and working together more than other goblin breeds, and are capable of higher levels of intelligence.
B) Blackskins
Some say that they were bred as slaves by the blackskinned orcs, and perhaps that explains their greater physiques and lackluster intelligence. They are good laborers and fighters compared to rest of goblin-kind, but are more primitive.
C) Blueskins
The most magically capable of all goblin-kind! Blueskin goblins often form magocratic hierarchies where the strongest mage rules over the less powerful. They aren't very strong fighters by conventional means, but their growth-rate is boosted due to their affinity to the land (the same connection that gives them their magic).
X) Commune
What a strange name for a breed! ... It isn't. A commune is a group of goblins of any breed, but here I refer to the Commune as the group of goblins who houses members from all the sub-breeds of goblinkind. They may dabble in all specialties of the breeds, but may never reach the same height as a specific breed.

H) Halflings
- Low strength, small statures, cunning, bonus diplomacy, bonus trade.
Subraces:
A) Hillfoots
The Hillfoot halflings are strong builders and farmers and tend to get round bellies after a while. They are comfortable, honest and friendly. High morale, all around!
B) Rockheads
The Rockhead halflings are craftsmen and traders, eager to set out into the world but still rather like to be comfortable. They are good diplomats, merchants, sailors and craftsmen.
C) Bumblerunners
With such a hilarious-sounding name, one could only expect the Bumblerunners to be hilarious themselves, but that is not always the case. Bumblerunners are the opposite to Hillfoots. They prefer adventure, moving around, getting up to no good and are excellent thieves, spies, rogues and explorers. That doesn't mean all bad things however, they're halflings after all!
D) Kenderkin
Anyone who's ever met a Kender usually has nothing good to say about them. They're not strictly halflings, but rather a cousin race of traditional halflings. They're less round, more nimble and slightly shorter. They combine a bit of Rockhead and Bumblerunner tendencies in that they love adventuring, meeting new people, craft new things and see the world. Notably, they're also very good sneaks and have the distinct trait that they don't feel fear. Fear to them is a foreign concept, and they're quite literally physically incapable of feeling fear. Historians and academics have scratched their heads for centuries over the Kender... Just what are they?!
X) Familtons
The Familtons are a family of halflings that proudly boast they count some of every halfling family within their numbers. They may dabble in all that other halfling families do, but may not reach quite the same expertise as focused subraces may.

X) Other, Custom Race

It is my preference that you use one of the subraces above, but if none of those suit your fancy then you could do a custom race. Preferably, this would be in the form of creating a new subrace rather than an entirely new and wholly unfamiliar race.

If you are using a custom race, you must go through the additional step of posting your concept on either the OOC or the Discord getting it approved. Only after that may you jump in IC. When pitching your custom race, please specify averages, strengths and weaknesses.




You land upon the continent, and decide to settle...


Next:

Choose a color to represent your kingdom. May be any single color. This matters because the settlements I put on the map will have text bordered with the color of your kingdom, so that players and non-players alike can see what settlement belongs to who.
Additionally, write the name of your new settlement! What shall be the name of your new future?
Hidden 10 mos ago 10 mos ago Post by Heyitsjiwon
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Attolia

The Attolians are Folk Elves who live in the steppes and deserts of their homelands. Originally, the Attolians were a group of High Elves who had ideological differences from their main community. Many took the position that certain magics were "dark" magic and forbidden to practice, such as blood magic. However, the original Attolians believed that magic was a neutral power that was good or evil depending on the intent of its wielder for even blood magic could be used to heal the most serious of wounds and be used to help. Thus, to maintain their freedom to study magic and practice it, the Attolians left and began to search for a new land where there was no one to bother or disturb. They eventually arrived at the largely barren steppes where they settled and called it "Attolia", The Land of Wisdom.

They set up a small settlement and lived off the sparse animals and vegetation. However, it seemed that word somehow spread and Attolia eventually became a bit of a mythological place where the outcasts and oddities of society could find refuge and a place to live freely. Small groups of other elves found their way to Attolia, and with them they brought their skills, supplies, and knowledge. They proved to be valuable in the harsh steppe lands as they brought horses, animal husbandry, herbalism, and other precious skills that helped the High Elves survive.

Now, as the settlement grows... it soon becomes obvious that they can no longer just stay secluded in the steppes.



For color, I picked Light Blue.
Hidden 10 mos ago Post by Kho
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The ap-Cantar




The proper study of mankind is Man

'I pray thee then - Write me as one that loves his fellow men.'

Were I (who to my cost already am
One of those strange, prodigious creatures, man)


And Hiwcantar, son of Hulcantar, son of Hancantar, son of GREAT Cantar, from whose loins are the ap-Cantar, whose numbers are as the stars
DECREED that his great place of residence, built of the blackest mud from the bed of the River Tala, should forevermore be named
TILATICANTAR


Type of Government: Tribal Chiefdom

Religion: Worship of GREAT Cantar, father of the ap-Cantar, whose searing blood flows through the veins of all his sons driving them to deeds of glory. That the ap-Cantar may join their father in the Sea of Souls, they must be worthy of him. The gods of all other people must be brought low, and the migty spear of GREAT Cantar be raised above all. May the eyes of the unworthy never know sleep! GREAT Cantar now dwells in the Sea of Souls, to which his physical manifestation was committed on its expiration, and to which the bodies of all worthy ap-Cantars are committed on death. On reaching the great kingdom of GREAT Cantar in the Sea of Souls, these worthy warriors join his glorious armies and fight the denizens of the Sea of Souls to further the extent and glory of ap-Cantar kingdom of the Sea of Souls. As for the unworthy - to the Great Yellow Scourge confine their burned remains!

Geographical Location: Straddling the north and south banks of the River Tala, with the Sea of Souls to the east and the Great Yellow Scourge to the south.

History: The ap-Cantar emerge into history when GREAT Cantar led his people out of the tyranny and custody of the Great Yellow Scourge. Today the ap-Cantar believe the Great Yellow Scourge to be the home of demons and tyrant gods who have sworn enmity against GREAT Cantar and his progeny for ever and aye. GREAT Cantar led his people to the fertile banks of the River Tala where they came upon a complacent people who did not know to fear the fury of the ap-Cantar - and they came to know, only too late, the price of that fury. Since the expiry of GREAT Cantar and his migration into the Sea of Souls to rule for aye and establish a great kingdom for his children, the ap-Cantar have continued a largely nomadic life, raiding the settled people on the River Tala. With the coming of Hiwcantar, however, the ap-Cantar have for the first time in their history built permanent homes of adobe at the great city of Tilaticantar.
Hidden 10 mos ago 10 mos ago Post by Bright_Ops
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The Mustaqilun Tribe

Represented Color: Purple
Race: Orc
Breed: Blackskin Orcs
Capital: Riverforge
Ruler: Warchief Rukdug the Hunter

Type of Government: Tribal Tyranny. Traditionally, the orcish society that the Mustaqilun Tribe broke away from favoured rule by strength; The stronger, cunning and more brutal you were, the higher in society you could potentially rise and expect to survive the promotion.
While the Mustaqilun Tribe could be considered somewhat liberal by the standards of other orcs, they do respect strong, competent leadership and the only alternative government that they have seen in action is monarchy which doesn’t appeal to them; While the leader who founds the kingdom is generally someone to respect by orcish standards, a few generations on and you tend to get poor leaders unworthy of the power they’re ‘born with’.

Religion:
The Mustaquilun Tribe doesn’t have a religion per say; The closest thing to a ‘god’ that the tribe had in the past was their former lord and master, a being of great power that ruled orcish kind through might and fear. While the Dark One had a cult dedicated to him that worshiped him as an almighty being, the Mustaquilun Tribe (and quite a large number of other orcs) viewed him more as the biggest, strongest of bosses rather than as a deity… and considering that they broke all ties with their former master when they took to the seas, their opinion of him is rather low.

They are superstitious through, performing small rituals and offerings in their day to day lives to ‘spirits’; A hunter might make a small offering before going out on a hunt for a good hunt, while a blacksmith might perform small rituals occasionally in order to keep the spirit of his forge in high spirits while wading off misfortune.

History:
The history of the Mustaquilun Tribe started fairly recently. Originally the orcs stationed at the oceanside port fortress of Nomar, the orcs of Nomar spent their days producing weapons and equipment for the seemingly endless armies of their distant master, the Dark One in his campaign against the other races and kingdoms of the land.

The Dark One was a cruel, unforgiving and demanding overlord, uncaring for the pain and suffering of minions and slaves alike as long as his orders were met on time. His requests kept the forges of Nomar burning at all hours of the day and night in order to try and keep up with demand.

It was hard to say exactly when the uprising among the orcs of Nomar began; they all hated the Dark One and the lives that they were being made to live, but their fear of him tended to keep any actual spirit of rebellion quiet… at least, until they no longer had anything to lose.

The forges were sabotaged by slaves from one of the distant nations their master had waged war with, breaking almost all of them down in such a way that it would take months to get production back up to the levels that it had been before, let alone start meeting the Dark One’s quotas again. The Dark One wasn’t known for his patience or his calm temper; in the past when a production site had fallen behind to the same degree as Nomar had just done, he had the fortress purged of its current workforce before repopulating it with a fresh workforce to get it operational again.

The orcs of Nomar were doomed… so they decided to take a gamble.

It began with the death of the former Warchief, Pash the Glutten. His failure to prevent such a devastating slave uprising due to neglecting his duties as Warchief of Nomar was deemed to be the source of the orcs impending doom and thus he was executed by his replacement, Rukdug the Hunter.

With the former Warchief slain and the promise of a painful death approaching, Rukdug came up with a plan to save himself and his fellow orcs... though it came with a price. In order for his plan to be successful, those under his command that zealously obeyed the will of the Dark One as the word of god had to be purged in order to prevent them from hindering their efforts. The night after Pash's head was mounted on a spike, Rukdug and those loyal to him (or at least to their own survival) slaughtered every last Dark One loyalist they could find, with only a handful fleeing into the night.

Led by Rukdug the Hunter, the orcs used what production abilities they still had access to in order to build ships. They took to the seas, abandoning their homeland completely in favour of escaping their master’s wrath and creating new lives for themselves elsewhere. Breaking all ties with their former master, the orcs of the fortress of Nomar decided to band together in order to form a new tribe; The Mustaquilun tribe.



Hidden 10 mos ago 10 mos ago Post by Chenzor
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The Levogh


Our capital is Wildhome, deep within the forests by a large lake. Our culture is ancient, yet tribal. We are Wilder Elves - descendants of Levon, formerly Dark Elves. Now we are Levogh, led by King Célebron Blackeye. Our time shall come once again.


(Check the character section for more details!)

Blackeye was the name they had given him. A thousand years ago when the elves of Levon fled their cursed lands, they forsake their old tradition of taking the name of their forefathers. No longer were house names of relevance, for many of their ancient forebearers had been the cause of the curse and to even speak the names were taboo. Or so the mythology goes.
Barely a hundred years ago, Célebron's father had died. Not of glorious battle or of physical illness, but of grief. He had been an unremarkable King, given no name by his people and leaving no legacy behind. Customs dictate a new King be elected at the day of the funeral and crowned one week later. Had it been luck that the people had chosen him? Célebron wondered. No other suitable candidate had distinguished his- or herself from the crowd and as such people had elected the last King's son out of indifference, since his father had been neither a bad King nor a good one.

The week following the funeral and coronation had been a tumultuous one.

Before the Levogh had chosen the deep forests as their home, they roamed the lands. Danger and hardship was commonplace, but following the King's death a new threat had proven to rise above the others. Wild Beastmen had attacked the nomadic camps of the Levogh in coordination. They hurled spears, rocks and evil magic in an attempt to end the lives of the elves.
Everything had seemed lost when Célebron rallied his people, pushed through the overwhelming odds that bore down on them. A bolt of dark lightning struck Célebron across the face, darkening one of his eyes and the flesh surrounding it. When the battle was over, Célebron had slain the Beastman Leader with it's own spear. In the cries of victory let out by the Levogh, a chant began to wash over the crowd.
"Blackeye! Blackeye!"
Fianlly rallying behind a strong King, Wildhome was founded only a few years after. Célebron's father had been burried somewhere in the plains, another milestone marking the great many miles the Levogh had travelled to find their new home.

The time of the Levogh would come again.
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The Lycan Covenant




The first boat slammed into the muddy earth,not moments later the primitive vessel's inhabitants leaped from the boat and on to their new home. Lycans from all tribes began to take their first steps on the new world some with caution and others with un-containable excitement, among these excited new arrivals were Basir and Grash. Both of them were leaders of one of the four remaining tribes with their respective interests and ideals being evident as Basir Goldtooth barked orders at his underlings how this land was full of exotic goods and even more exotic slaves while Grash Bloodfang bellowed at his warriors, ensuring they were prepared for any threats the covenant may face in the coming days.

As the other two tribe leaders were already out of their make-shift ships and preparing their people, the leaders of the other half of the covenant made land with a more measured approach to the situation. Mex Silentpaw stopped herself and her hunters as they left their vessel, having all of them take in the new lands around them. The air was warmer, the ground more fertile and by extension the beasts of the land would be larger. The final group to arrive were the Shadowclaws and the leader of the Covenant Vlath Shadowclaw. After the somewhat hunched figure of the Voidcaller walked slightly further inland, dropped to his knees and began muttering prayers in a tongue known only to those who were learned in the nature of the Gods. The Voidcaller remained in that state for some time as the other members of the covenant began to settle into their new home which had been named Wulfhelm.
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The Mustaqilun Tribe [Turn 0]


When the first ship had managed to beach itself against the sandy shore, a great cheer had gone up from not just those on board, but also from other ships that were following behind that could see the promise of a new land before them. The ships themselves were ugly and battered things; They appeared to have been made in haste with limited resources by people who might have had a basic understanding of how to make boats but had clearly never had to contend with the trails of traveling across the open sea before. More then one ship in the ram-shackled fleet that was coming ashore had sunken on the journey, taking many of the souls on board with them despite the efforts of some of the other ships to fish their fellow orcs from the icy ocean waters.

Despite the losses and the hardship through, the orcs themselves were in high spirits. They had done what many had believed to be impossible. The Dark One had long ago segregated his slave and worshiper races into specialized rolls in order to prevent any one race from being able to rebel effectively against him; While orcs could create fishing boats and make shift transports in order to gather food and ferry troops across minor bodies of water like rivers or moats respectively, actual sea faring naval craft and their production was kept in the hands of his branded human cultists. No one believed that an orc could make a ship that could survive three days out in open waters, let alone make an ocean crossing. With the impossible achieved, it was with great pride that the orcs celebrated their arrival in a new land.

The landing site was a beach that stretched into grassland towards the south east as far as the eye could see, next to a river that flowed from the west that had a forest that lay to the north. As the surviving ships arrived one after the other, good natured arguments started to arise over what to name the place. The first orc that had stepped foot on the new land made the argument that since he was the first one to step foot on the new land, he should have the right to name it, while his crew mates suggested that they should name it after their ship for being the first one to land. A few captains and other crews tried to put their own names forward, but they were half hearted attempts at best for the sake of ego; Everyone had seen who had landed first after all.

When Rukdug the Hunter finally landed and the matter was brought to him, he looked around and thought for a moment... before coming to a decision on another matter. While he agreed that the place needed a name worthy of the occasion, it would not be the location of their new home. While camps were set up for the time being, several teams were organized to construct river craft to scout further upriver to see how close to the mountains it would get them. Using parts of the now beached ships and taking advantage of the forest nearby for fresh resources, much better built boats were constructed and sent upriver.

After some time the scouts returned, bringing with them tales of a fork in the river that protected a stretch of land close enough to the mountains for mining, but with plenty of room to grow into a defensive position. It would take time to ferry orcs and supplies there to set up a proper settlement, but it was a perfect place to call home. More boats to travel the river would be required, but it would be a lot quicker and easier then traveling by land.

With the process of moving their people underway, Rukdug finally came to a decision about what to name their landing spot. The river itself would earn the name Hardship's Respite while the landing that would be their first step towards their new home... Survivor's Pride. Even as orcs boarded boats heading upriver, a name for the yet built settlement was already floating around: Riverforge. A place for their tribe to start anew.
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The ap-Cantar



And when the fifth Heat of the reign of Hiwcantar was upon the people, and the sun waxed mighty and spared none the lash of its fiery scourge, there descended upon Hiwcantar, master and lord of the warriors and womenfolk of the ap-Cantar, a vision. And it was thus -
March ye forth, Oh strong ap-Cantar
March ye forth most bravely
March till you see the morning star
And the spreading soul sea
And there you must both saw and hack
Devestate them with your attack
And build a town for me


So he awoke and rose, that Hiwcantar, and he woke his people also and commanded them to gather up the tents and the spears and walk with him in the night. 'But Hiwcantar,' one complained, 'do you not see that the sun is long gone and the day is dark and the clouds are thick?' And Hiwcantar kicked up the dirt and stepped forth upon a rock and declared.
'Indeed the day is dark and the sun is out and the clouds are thick in the heavens, but walk with me but a while and have faith. And ere long ye shall see the clouds part and the moon shine on us with radiance. And the path shall be made clear.'

And so they gathered up their tents and their belongings and their spears - and they were heavy - and they walked in the dark. And Hiwcantar led them into the darkness. And the clouds only thickened and did not part, and the winds battered them and the gates of the heavens were cast open wide and the waters of the upper sea hailed down upon them as never before. 'We are undone! We are cursed! We have treaded a path into the darkness!' Rose the wail. And it was followed by screams of despair and surrender.
'GREAT Cantar! Protect us!' And seeing their despair, Hiwcantar was taken up in a passionate fury and stood before them in the wind and rain and he spoke with such fire and frenzy as to silence them and cast greater fear of him in their hearts than ever did the winds and rains and darkness.
'Woe unto you for ye are a feckless lot! Did ye think that ye shall be guided to the good place without first being tried? If you would come to the good place, then you would have patience - he shall not earn it of you who is not worthy of GREAT Cantar. If you are of him then let your step follow my step. And if you are not of him then turn ye back and return from where we first came, ne'er seek to approach us again - you are lost.' And so saying, he turned away and walked away with his family and sons and daughters. And then followed him his brothers and their families and their sons and their daughters. And then his uncles set their step firmly behind him, and then others. And his voice was and actions were as a flood that swept up the doubtful and the faithful alike.

So when dawn broke and the star of morning burst forth like a bloodied flower beyond the Sea of Souls, they found themselves at the southern bank of the River Tala. And seeing them, the people of the river let loose a cry of fear and scattered now here and now there, and some gathered sticks and staves and rallied forth against them. But the ap-Cantar were the masters here, and had been for many generations now. Those who fought did so only out of mad futility and despair, and their weak strikes were swept aside by warriors bred and raiders raised. And killing blows were struck and women caught and children thrown into the river. And some were kept, on the command of Hiwcantar. And he saw how these river people built small abodes - little things. And yet somehow he was struck with inspiration and he commanded that just such abodes - but on a greater scale as never before had graced the banks of the River Tala - should be built for the progeny of GREAT Cantar.

And it was so. And its name was whispered in fear and awe by all the river people, for they knew that it was there that the lord and master of all men dwelled. It was from there that Hiwcantar ruled.

Tilaticantar, the rising place of the ap-Cantar
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Orr'gavol: The Hammersworn - Turn 0


Nothing. There really was nothing left. Osman Slag, foreman of the Worker Council and leader of the Hammersworn Dwarves, could not seem to stand up. Around him were men, women and children, some howling in agony, others in despair, some not howling at all - merely staring. The dust had not yet settled; the air was still ripe with the stink of industry - now complemented by the stench of death. Some dwarves grabbed whatever tools they had managed to evacuate and began beating and hacking at the boulders that now covered what had been their home about an hour ago. Others used their rocks, sticks or their fists, screaming at the cruel gods and hateful ancestors who had allowed this to happen. Some dwarves of the Bronze union sat down at began to debate whether this loss would upset the balance of the world, to which a gang of Steel unionists reacted with outrage and violence, quickly followed by Mithril unionists looking to vent some emotions. Gold Union dwarves and Silver union dwarves lamented their colossal monetary losses, and what few remained of the Unions of Phosphorus and Glass stood there like statues of stone. All the knowledge that they had gathered - every scroll, every carving, every log - all lost in the matter of minutes. A few of them collapsed to the ground in horror.

The foreman did not mind the chaos breaking out between the survivors. Currently, he thought of little more beyond his people, trapped within what yesterday had been their home. It was autumn now, he thought. Come winter, we will all be like those within. The thought sent a shards of ice through him. The Hammersworn civilisation, a people with almost a millennia of history - wiped out in less than a single year? He tried to dismiss the thought, but its roots dug deep into his mind, whispering wicked words of doom for his people.

"Foreman!" Osman snapped back into reality. He looked at the source of the voice. He recognised the elder woman, her hair like rusty strands of iron, her face overripe with wrinkles and now flaming red with tears. She looked to be mustering all her will to not keep shedding them. Her left eye was surrounded by a tattoo shaped like a golden plate with hints of green - a mark of the Copper Union. She gestured to fighting that had broken out between the hapless survivors - many of whom were now on the ground in pools of their own blood or clutching their wounds. Osman, having not completely broken out of the shock, merely glanced over, just in time to see a Bronze unionist be blinded by a rabid Steel unionist. The blind dwarf clutched his bloody, empty socked and his screams momentarily deafened all others'. He fell to the ground, and then his groans were all the sound that was heard through the valley - the wind was gone; the water, silent; not even the stone rubble in front of the dwarves groaned anymore. Osman held his breath. The hacking breath of the brawlers grew quieter as they looked at each other, then the results of their recklessness. Many of them once again felled tears, and the blind dwarf's kinsmen stormed over to help him.

"We are all dead," an Earth unionist said. "All our crops-... All our crops were inside. There is nothing left out here!" His words blew through the crowd like a disease. Families began to flock together, then into their respective unions, forming phalanxes with whatever tools they had, pointed at the others.

"That cannot be true! You soilers certainly have a hidden storage somewhere! You will dig it out while the rest of us starve to death!" a Steel unionist spat back. Her kinsmen backed her up with a barrage of shouts and threats, to which the Earth Union responsed with their own defensive cacophony. The Glass Union and the Phosperous Union both backed the Earth unionists with arguments about the quality of the local soil in terms of food storage and how it would be impossible for them to store so much food in the hard ground without anyone else knowing about it. A Silver unionist, in a fit of stress, caved in and joined the debate by saying that his union had several thousand coffers of gold hidden away in caches around the valley. His kinsmen, appalled that one of their own would spill their secrets, immediately subjected the lad to severe beatings, until he was within an inch of his life.

Osman could not seem to muster the courage to break through the ever-thickening wall of words between him and his people. The councilmen who hadn't joined their own stood around him, begging him to say something and end the chaos. However, he had not prepared for this - not a single day in his fifty year long lifespan had he thought he might have been forced to lead his people through a crisis. Herim Ore, his closest companion and apprentice to the now late Elder Calendarmaster of the Glass Union, fell to his knees before Osman and grabbed him by the leg, shaking it in a futile attempt to break through to the stunned foreman.

"... We... We cannot remain," Osman finally managed to say. His councilmen heard him, and in mere seconds they all spread out to the various Unions, breaking up the chaos through any means necessary. Upon hearing orders, the people quickly quieted down and turned to the foreman. Osman swallowed.

"We cannot stay," he said again. "Our cities are no more. Our way of life is-... Is at the mercy of the gods once more." His words were met with a defeaning silence and empty glances.

"Winter is on our heels, Unions. We have no choice but to move south to the very edge of the Ancestor Woods. Perhaps there, we can gather what the season can offer and wait out the winter, so we may one day return to dig our home out." Osman's breath was ragged. Many of the dwarves looked at each other in uncertainity.

"Leave the valley? No one has ever done that before save the soilers!" claimed a Stone unionist who was clutching his head after a previous brawl. His words were met by disapproving hollering from the Earth Union. Osman bit his lip and looked down the river Darr, and into the horizon far beyond, where nothing but vast plains stretched for miles.

"As I said, it is only temporary. We will one day return to Gol'kharumm and rebuild. However, for now, we have no choice. By the power of my mandate as foreman of the Worker Council and leader of the Hammersworn, I declare that we are to migrate further south and wait out the winter before we come home. Does the council agree with my decision?" The counsilmen, with the exception of a few, nodded and grunted in agreement.

"Then may the gods be good," Osman said.
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The Aedelfaari - Turn 0


"Land Ho!" Came up the call and a grand cheer followed as the haggard travelers saw a safe chance to finally free themselves from the cramped squalor they had endured on their crowded longboats.

The wind was high the day the Aedels made landfall on the new continent. A brisk and billowing cry that sent the the sand and salt spray flying all around them. Aedelfarri longships cut into the land, one after another as their cargo spilled out onto the sands, eager to feel the ground under them again. These ships were first made for raiders, made to travel light and fast so they might be pulled up land and out to sea again quickly. Today those ships would be dragged up the slopes of the bay the Aedels had spied from the sea and up to the fields beyond. The men and women given thaqt hard task grunted and complained but eventually the ships found their way to a strong plot of land.

The keen eyed among the immigrants had spied a few possible landing grounds but the final choice fell to their chieftain, Eric. In the end his heart was taken by a windy bay on a northern peninsula that might help them plant their feet firmly in these new lands and did so remind him of home. Fertile ground was found, with a nearby forest that might offer game and lumber. A lone hill was chosen where they might start the making of earthworks and build a fort house that would project power across the land. With all this decided the longships were brought to their final resting place, their inhuman figureheads staring out across the landscape as only the maddening visages of the angels could. And so the ships were slaughtered. They were turned upside down, their spare parts stripped from their hull as a makeshift mixture of wattle and daub was made to form each longhouse's foundations and outer shell.

This was the beginning of a settlement they would call Waebury, a secure place among the waves.

Centuries later historians would find scrimshaw carvings that depict Aedelfarri people gathered in feast and celebration. At the head of this crudely depicted group is a male figure, facing towards the rest of this assembled group, his beard is of a different pattern and his head is adorned with a crown that sprouts into regal prongs that did not exist but were instead created by artistic license. This is one of the earliest depictions of the founding of Waebury. It would fall to later artists and scholars to try and put into words the unrecorded speech that Eric would give to his assembled subjects.

Though all agree that he stood upon the hillside and shouted words to the effect of, "We are no longer a clan among clans. We are no longer dogs among beasts. We are a small folk now, as we were before but we are free of those that would keep us so. We are free now, for we have traveled far, and we will grow strong." Or words to that effect.

So went the self coronation of Eric ap Edrin, first king of the Aedelfarri and the kingdom of Aedelfarr.
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Turn 1



The Levogh



The Lycan Covenant



Attolia



The ap-Cantar



The Mustaqilun Tribe



Orr'gavol: The Hammersworn



The Aedelfaari

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The Mustaqilun Tribe [Turn 1]




The decision of where to set up their home was a challenging one and it was one that bothered Rukdug during his journey down Hardship's Respite. After his scouts had made their reports, he had briefly considered selecting the place where the two forks met in order to secure both resources that the forks offered before casting it aside. Some many have called it paranoia, but the possibility of the Dark One taking enough of an interest in them to actually send an attack to punish them...

One didn't raise up the ranks to Warchief by being naive. Paranoia was healthy when the shadows often held knives waiting for a moment to strike. There was only one answer that he could give as Warchief that would allow him some measure of rest at night.

His decision made, he quickly delegated tasks out to subordinates to spread the news and prepare them for the final stage of the trek. They were going to follow the eastern fork towards the mountains and make full use of its defensive position and the ease in which stone could be gathered to build themselves a secure power base.

Rukdug took pride in the fact that he was the leader of some of the best and brightest wall breakers the world had to offer and it didn't take much thought to consider that the same know how that could bring down enemy walls could be used to build walls that were much more challenging to breach, but he wasn't expecting the greatest fortress the world had ever seen. That would take time and planning that could be done later on. Right now, he needed somewhere safe and secure that his people could call their own.



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Attolia

Lord Caelis Attolis... or so people began to call him. He was no noble, but as time passed it seemed that people looked up to him for guidance and respected his thoughts. Thus, Lord Caelis "of Attolia" he came to be called. His parents were among the first settlers of the lands and in his lifetime, the steppe elves had come to grow accustomed to the harsh nature of these lands. Yet, that did not mean the lands were completely safe. The Attolians always had to be alert and looking out for opportunities. Which is why Caelis gathered some of the best hunters and trackers of the settlement.

The plan was somewhat straightforward. The hunters would go out and attempt to find a large herd. Once found, the herd would be carefully followed. After all, this herd would have to find its way to a major water source to sustain itself. Then the settlement would relocate to this water source and have access to a substantial herd of animals. They would have to start securing more food and water for the growing settlement after all. This would ideally tackle both issues with one stone.

Thus, while the hunters went out to stalk out a large herd, the rest of the settlement would attempt to contact the spirits of the steppes and plains to seek their guidance, blessing, and help.

---

Summary:

Event: X. Other. The Attolians send out hunters to try to find and stalk a large herd to a major water source

Action: The Attolians attempt to contact the nature spirits of the steppes and plains
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The Lycan Covenant


C)+A

Vlath viewed the structure before them for a few moments, he could sense the magic in the year- a sure sign of worshipers of the young gods. Wherever they were the covenant would find them and show them the foolishness of their faith or burn them with their traitorous gods, claiming this simple stone would be but thee start. The Voidcaller placed a single hand on the stone before announcing "There is magic here, I can sense it in the air. But it is not of the Divine Trinity,no it is of the child gods. Doubtlessly placed here by one of their foolish followers. We will deliver this structure to the Gods so they may begin to reclaim this land in their name!" Vlath then placed his second hand on the stone and begin speaking chanting in the tongue of the divine,beckoning them to purge this stone of the lesser god's presence and claim it as their own.

When the deed was done and Vlath had returned to his camp, Vlath addressed Basir Goldtooth. "I see the hunters found game last night.".
Basir looked at the Voidcaller, somewhat confused.He was no hunter, why did he speak of such things to him? Regardless he replied in his somewhat raspy voice "Yes Voidcaller,the Silentpaw will have no problems hunting in this new land." he attempted to speak with some pride, but he may aswell have not bothered, it was not exactly uncommon for lycans to still see themselves divided by their tribe despite being united under the covenant.
"That is good news,truly the Gods have blessed us with this fertile land. However, I feel a more consistent food source will be necessary if we are to establish a true foothold as a united covenant. To this end you will build a...holding pen, similar to the slave pens in your old territories but they must be be able to hold the beasts of this land. A consistent food source will allow us to focus on grander designs. Perhaps we may even focus our efforts to finding the exotic prizes you spoke of so passionately to your people on our arrival?" Vlath said, he also added "Once your work is done, have the Silentpaws begin rounding up the beasts in our area. We will feast the night we have our new supply ready and every night after." with his orders given Vlath excused himself and returned to the strange stone, pondering on it and it's mysteries, what foul purpose did it serve?




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The ap-Cantar





'What is to be done then, Hiwcantar, about the river people? They are weak and conquered, they could scarcely fight us when they had their freedom - as our slaves and bonsmen they will surely never think to fight at all. Let us keep them as our inferiors - to build, to fish, and to plough the earth in the strange manner that they do that wheat and grain may emerge from the bowels of the earth. They are not fighters, true, but they have knowledge which we would be wise indeed to use.' Ingantir, the youngest of Hiwcantar's uncles, was the speaker. The elders of the ap-Cantar nodded sagely as they considered the man's words. Many were those gathered around Hiwcantar under the palm tree - uncles and grand-uncles, brothers, and other clan chieftains of the ap-Cantar.

'Ingantir is wise, we should keep them as slaves,' spoke the ancient Howandar, the oldest man yet living, 'but they are not all weak - I see in some of them the same fire that burns fiercely in those of our blood. We should keep the weak as slaves, but the strong we should bring close. Offer them our daughters in marriage that the blood of GREAT Cantar may flow in the veins of their progeny and their strength and our strength mingle, and that we may become as a single nation. The strong to rule and the weak to serve.' There were murmurs at this proposition, some uncertain and some emphatically for - indeed, many had seen the river women and their great beauty and skin dark as the mud of the riverbed, and they had in their hearts and loins desired them.

'NAY!' declared a mad-eyed man, tall in stature and rippling with an unearthly power. Even with fifty years behind him, Fuldondar was the unrivalled champion and warrior of the ap-Cantar, and his eyes constantly burned with a battle-crazy. He was touched by GREAT Cantar - a blessing and a curse. 'They are a weak and despicable race, unworthy and despised. As a mark of our respect and gratitude to GREAT Cantar we should slaughter them all and have their blood flow into the Sea of Souls - and then we should burn their unworthy bodies and scatter their ashes into the Great Yellow Scourge. That is the way.' Silence followed as the elders considered the options. Brows furrowed, Hiwcantar sat thinking.

'Advise us, Hiwcantar. You are the lord and master of the ap-Cantar - you have been shown visions and given sight. Surely, nephew, you know the way.' Hiwcantar looked to his uncle Virimdantar and nodded.

'We shall slaughter them. We have no need for a weak people amongst us. I shall meditate on this matter and, if GREAT Cantar is pleased with it, then we shall do it tomorrow.' The decision was met with silence - and shock by some. Fuldondar smiled in satisfaction. The council dispersed, some walking away in groups and speaking anxiously, others trying to speak to Hiwcantar. When he had retreated to his tent and sat deep in thought, one of his daughters came and lay beside him. And she pressed her lips to his forehead and he felt her tears. 'What is it Julandara?' His anger rising at the thought that someone should have caused his daughter grief, he rose and wiped her tears, 'who has caused you misery? Speak and I shall have their eyes gorged and their skin flayed and their tongue torn.' Julandara looked away, her lip quivering.
'Is it true, father, what the people are saying? Have you condemned the riverfolk to death?' He frowned and stiffened.
'I have decreed it so, yes. And I shall consult with our GREAT father tonight and ask him for guidance.' She just about stifled a sob.
'That is a terrible thing, father. I beseech you, by all things good and by this good place and by the worthiness of your heart, do not slay them.' He looked at her strangely and, leaning in close, whispered to her.
'There is more to this, is there not? Why is the fate of the riverfolk of such importance to you?' She looked away shyly and pursed her lips.
'Father, don't ask such things. It would be unseemly for a daughter to speak of things so low...' Hiwcantar's intelligent eyes caught on to her meaning and he laughed suddenly.
'You are smitten? You find one from amongst them that pleases you?' She covered her face with two hands and looked away. 'So you think they have it in them to be worthy, these riverfolk?' He asked her, lying back down.
'I do father. I think they can be a boon to us, and we a boon to them, if only we brought them close.'
'How can they be a boon to us, daughter, when they are lowly and weak? If we bring them close we may strengthen them, but they will also weaken us.' She shook her head.
'No father! That can never and will never be - for there flows within us the blood of GREAT Cantar. Just as we are a conquering people, ours is a conquering blood. It can never be corrupted or tainted or diluted - it purifies and is not corrupted, strengthens and is not weakened, conquers and is not conquered.'
'You mean to say that we can simply breed them into full-blooded ap-Cantars?' She blushed, though he did not see it in the darkness, then she nodded.
'In so many words, father. Yes. And they are strong - have you looked at them closely? Even their womenfolk... it is not out of weakness that we bested them, it is because they had no knowledge of war or of fighting. They ploughed the land and hunted the river and sea for its richest. If we brought them close and taught them and learned from them... why, we would be the terror of the rivers and deserts and plains.' Hiwcantar considered his daughters words then nodded and patted her shoulder.
'I have heard what you have to say, Julandara, and I shall consider it. Go now. I shall inspect these people more closely and I shall ask GREAT Cantar for guidance.' She kissed his forehead once more and thanked him before leaving the tent. After some time, Hiwcantar rose and walked in the darkness until he came upon a group of the riverfolk sitting around a fire. They looked up at him - women and children mainly, and a few men - with fear. But one of them had anger in her eyes. He gestured for that one to come closer. She looked away and ignored him at first, but then he called out to her and the others forced her up and nudged her towards him. She stormed over to him irritably and stood with her arms crossed.

She had a strong jaw, enticing lips, an elegant, flat, wide nose. Her hair was pitch black and curled in infinitesmally small curls, braided in the way of the riverfolk. He reached out and pinched her arm. Shouting out, she pushed him away forcefully. The chief stumbled back from the strength she displayed. Raising an eyebrow, he smiled. She seemed taken aback by this reaction, but the defiance in her eyes remained. 'You have fire, that is good. And you have strength. A worthy woman.' And so saying he turned away and returned to his tent.

When morning broke he rose and walked to the river bank, where he stood upon a large rock. The people gathered around him and he declared that GREAT Cantar did not wish for the blood of these people - it was of no use to him, exalted and mighty is he! Nor did he require slaves - he was free of need for them, capable of building and fighting without help or aid. But GREAT Cantar would permit these people to prove themselves, and he would honour them and cast his mercy and grace upon them: in the blood of their progeny would flow his blood, and they will be raised and honoured, and they would be ap-Cantars.

'This is the command of GREAT Cantar -
Let your women take of their men,
Those deemed mighty and wise

And your men give to their women
Pleasure between their thighs

So that a race of men should rise
With strength and wisdom and blood ties

To shake the pillars of the skies

So go forth few and many, woo them to your tents and pleasure them and in them. Sow your seeds and make it so that they freely give you their bodies and hearts. And when this our great union bears its fruits, they will be ap-Cantar and our conquest complete!' And his decree given, the chief descended from the rock and went to find and woo a certain fiery-eyed beauty.

***



The banks of the River Tala were fertile. The river itself brimmed with fish, and the Sea of Souls into which it fed was a source of great bounty. The Riverfolk knew well how to salvage the good things of the river and earth and sea. And the ap-Cantar knew well how to raid them and take for themselves what the tip of the spear earned for them. Now that the warrior-race had settled and chosen to uplift and strengthen these unwarring people, the ap-Cantar found in themselves a curiosity and need for the knowledge they had - the survival and growth of Tilaticantar - with its hundreds of denizens - depended on making use of the bounties of earth and river and sea. And so even as the construction of the great town continued, the people set about sowing the fields once more and building fishing boats and preparing fishing nets. The Riverfolk showed them how to harvest salt from the sea and then how to preserve fish and other things in salt. The first of Tilaticantar's buildings to be completed was a great storehouse, and the surplus fish caught was placed in baskets and preserved in salt there.

The fields were sown as they had never been sown in living memory - for now there were no ap-Cantar raiding and looting and casting fear into the hearts of all. When the harvesting season came, the town would be complete and there would be plenty. And there would be bread, and there would be fish, and there would be joy and optimism. And the ap-Cantar would cast their eyes upriver, and they would sharpern their spears...
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The Levogh - Turn 1


It would seem the Levogh were not the first to arrive here. The ruins they found spoke of a higher civilization of elves that had once lived here, perhaps much like the Levogh had once been.
Whatever ancient elves had once dwelled here were gone now. The Wilder Elves has claimed these forests for themselves, and with it these ruins. This area would become the seat of power once again, for there was something truly alluring and remarkable about these old overgrown buildings. They could provide shelter and were functional in many cases, but what convinced the Levogh to stay here was the breathtaking atchitecture, perfect location and maybe, just maybe, the hand of fate had guided them here.

A) Settle atop the ruins.

While the ruins were beautiful and mysterious, exploring them would have to wait for now. There would be plenty of time to scout out their new home, but so much work cannot be done on empty stomachs. Elves have the gift to grow much food from little land, especially forests like these, and a thousand years of tribal life relocating from one region to the next had done much to teach the Levogh of how to fend for themselves in the wilds.
Nimble elves were sent out. What animals could they hunt or domesticate? What grows here and what can be cultivated?

A) Improve food
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Orr'gavol: The Hammersworn - Turn 1



Summary below:


Osman stood with one foot on a rock, leaning on his elevated leg as he scanned the vast plains of grass to the south. It was strange. The acres that had once been full of trees around Gol'kharumm looked very similar to these plains, only not as green - and with far fewer shrubs and far more soot. Behind him stretched the Ancestor Woods for miles and miles, down to the bank of the Darr, and continuing on the other side.

Neither he nor most of his people had ever been this far south of Lake Darr. The air felt more open here - emptier. Osman grunted in disapproval. He turned around to his councilmen of the Union of Glass and the Union of Earth to discuss further action. The recently appointed Elder Calendarmaster, Herim Ore of the Glass Union, was the first to speak:

"Foreman, I fear the stars and clouds tell of grim tidings ahead. I fear we cannot make accurate predictions without our longseers and our charts, but the feathers of heaven all fly south at ever greater speeds. The waters of the Darr grow colder by the day. The snow creeps ever further down the Golumnar. All the signs point to a coming storm - one of horrific and destructive magnitude. It will surely obliterate us all should be meet it unprepared."

Osman bit his lip. He nodded somberly and voiced a cold, simple "I see" before turning to Makkar Stone, speaker for the Earth Union. He looked back at Osman with an equally somber expression, almost a guilty one, as if he felt regret for having to share their findings.

"Foreman, the Elder Calendarmaster speaks true. The nature around us senses it - prepares for it. The berries grow sour and overripe; the last leaves are falling off their branches; the fish are swimming ever deeper. The soil is, luckily, still soft enough to dig through for roots and nuts, but we cannot predict how long it will remain like that. The autumn will turn to winter, and that very soon. We must fill our rucksacks and pockets with all the food we can find before the frost takes it all."

Osman's hope dwindled. While he had gathered himself somewhat after the Calamity, his mind could not help but occasionally stab at his confidence as the foreman. In the meantime, Herim of the Glass Union raised his voice at Makkar, constructing the argument that the roots and nuts could remain fresh and edible under the ground for weeks, whereas the storms would bury all who did not hide behind walls in layers of snow, to which Makkar argued that no creature, not even dwarves, could build homes on empty bellies. The argument grew into a debate, then into a dispute. The voices grew more and more aggressive for every spoked word. Osman's thoughts were soon buried under the layers of insults and threats his councilmen hurled at each other. "SILENCE!" Osman roared, and his councilmen quieted down swiftly.

... But the cacophony of conflict could still be heard, albeit quieter. It came from deeper into the forest. Osman's eyes flared open. His councilmen also turned to look into the forest, unrest fomenting between them. Osman ran towards the woods, beckoning the others to follow him as he sprinted back towards the camp.

Upon arriving back at the clearing they had set up camp in, he and his councilmen stopped and stared in horror at the scene in front of them. In one of the many trees that formed a natural barrier against wind on the northern part of the clearing, hung a rope - tied in a noose - and below the noose knelt three dwarves of different unions, all tied up and wriggling in terror. One of them displayed wounds and bruises on her face, recent in appearance. Before them, a furious mob stood chanting curses and accusations of sacrilege. Osman and his followers stormed over to the crowd and began shoving their way through the mob, whose cries grew louder and angrier at the arrival of the foreman. Once through, Osman walked over and inspected the three accused - their eyes glinting with tears of joy at the arrival of their leader. Osman's black-haired brow hung low with rage and he turned to the crowd, his voice like a hammer striking steel.

"Who is responsible for this? Why would you do this, Unions?! What have these dwarves done?" he bellowed. The mob fell silent. One of them stepped forward. Osman knew him well - it was Joron Scroll, Elder Logmaster of the Union of Copper, and a member of the Worker Council. Osman had never liked Joron - he was more stubborn than most dwarves; he had little to no respect for dwarves of other Unions; and he held to the ancient beliefs of king Popomel. Joron ran a shaking hand through his ashen beard and glared deep into Osman's soul. Osman felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead, but he made an attempt to rise and meet the burning eyes of the elder dwarf.

"Joron Scroll, I see you have stepped forward. Speak before your fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters - what are the crimes of these three?" Osman tried to say calmly, but ended up partially stuttering. Joron flashed a grin of yellow fangs and grey gums.

"The orders from heaven remain vital - perhaps even more now than ever before, foreman. The gods spoke through the mountain - their words brought death, destruction and the loss of the greatest civilisation this world has ever seen. We are all that is left. It is evident we displeased the gods on high, and shamed our ancestors deeply, in our arrogant quest to measure up to them. The heavens decree that such arrogance must be quelled with blood."

Osman turned back to the three, one of whom was now keeling over in tears, whispering desperate apologies to whoever was listening. Sure enough, the three dwarves consisted of one from the Gold Union, known for their ambition to craft godly artifacts; one was of the Phosphorous Union - this one in particular was councilman Erima Rock, an outspoken "world-eye" and well known for her hatred of all religious thought; and one from the Union of Stone. She was the most bruised of the three. Osman did not recognise her at all, and could not think of a link to why she would be accused. Osman's brow fell low once more and he turned back to Joron, who met his eyes with a stern glare.

"Your gods are not mine, Joron, nor are they the gods of those you have accused. The laws of the Reunification are clearer than any order heaven could cast our way! One union's laws are not another's. Your gods are mute to me, just as mine are mute to you. The only crimes you have the right to punish these for are theft, rape, murder and mutiny. Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters, you stand before your foreman and all of whom you call family and all who call you family - speak truth, or be forever cast out. Have these three broken any of the Hammersworn collective laws?"

The crowd was silent. Even Joron Scroll kept his words to himself. Osman scanned the crowd, and was met by eyes that glanced away from him as his and theirs met. An oozing aura of shame and discontent flowed through the Hammersworn like oil through a rag, and left a greasy, bitter taste in everyone's mouth. The foreman knelt down and untied the prisoners. Once the prisoners where free, their families, who had either been cowering away from the crowd or fought them until bloody, ran up to comfort them and help them down. Osman followed them with his gaze for a while before turning back to the crowd, specifically to Joron Scroll.

"As for you, Joron Scroll... You may have the favour of your false gods," he said, words which were immediately met by disapproving cries from the Union of Copper, and a furious expression from Joron himself. "But the laws of your people, you have broken. Seize him!" Dwarves from either side of Joron grabbed hold on him and forced him to the ground, much to the protest of Copper unionists, who who pulled at the clothes of those holding Joron and demanded his release.

"For your attempt at sacrificing your fellow sisters, brothers, sons and daughters at the pleasure of the heavens, you shall spend a month in a cage. For your sake, I pray the winter nights are far off." Joron, face white with terror and eyes red with rage, merely lowered his head. The other Unions had begun to push the protestors away, making it easier to bind Joron and escord him to his temporary cell.

Osman let out a groan of exhaustion. With Joron gone, the mob quickly grew less agigated. The bloodthirst, while not quenched, was at least suppressed for the time being. Osman's people looked to their leader for guidance. Osman felt his throat tighten up, but he swallowed and beckoned Makkar and Herim over to stand at his left and right side, respectively.

"The heavens and the earth both have spoken - the winter will soon be upon us. We will need shelter as soon as possible. All of you will work, from oldest greybeard to youngest skinchin. Go out into the woods, find sticks, stock, stone - whatever can be used to build huts and tents. Take whatever pelts you have and fashion them into covers. Build storages for food, tools and materials. Go now, let us show the gods that the Hammersworn never will fade into the dark!"

Osman's words were met with cheer and roars. The crowd quickly dispersed and soon after, every Union's members had begun rebuilding Hammersworn society anew.
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The Aedelfarri - Turn 1

The foundation of the old Aedel culture is their stories. Sagas that have lived on long after those they were about have been lost to time and with time those same stories were exaggerated and changed beyond recognition, as is the way of oral traditions. Young boys are brought up on tales of daring heroes who conquered the elements and mighty beasts with only a blade in their hands and courage in their hearts. To meet the challenges of the world head on is an honorable thing and it is the only way a self proclaimed king could be allowed to act. For to gain glory and infamy is a mark of success among rulers of the Aedels. However maddening their legacy may be, to gain one is to show you left your mark on the world and to have earned the notice of the angels. Whatever the fate of Waebury and Eric's fledgling kingdom it would never be one of note if its people met their first challenge by hiding or running away.

And so the saga of Eric ap Edrin began as he and his thanes strode into the forboding forest in pursuit of this mystical bear and its hidden choir. In one hand Eric held an iron short sword, in the other he held a small sack of food. If this was some dark fey of the woods that would threaten them then he would meet it in battle and return victorious or die a glorious death. If this was some lost angel of the wilds then he would offer it food and salt as a king should, and earn an ally for his new kingdom and would return in glory. Either way Eric would earn a name for himself.

Back at Waebury



While the warriors set off on their hunt the remaining Aedelfarri were left to busy themselves with the hard work of building a town that would outlast its first winter. For now food was the most pressing concern for the average Aedel family. Farms would take too long to yield real results and their best hunters were away seeking out magical bears. So their eyes fell on something they had become all too familiar with over the past weeks. The sea would serve.

Fishing was one of the few ways to pass the time and make yourself useful on the cramped deck of the longships and the Grass Dogs were a people used to the coast. So with rope salvaged from their new homes and basic tools that had survived the trip they set to crafting nets and hook lines as well as baskets that might capture whatever delicious animals that might live on the sea floor and were beyond the ability of the children to catch.


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Cyclone Trapped in the Past

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Turn 2




The Levogh



The Lycan Covenant



Attolia



The ap-Cantar



The Mustaqilun Tribe



Orr'gavol: The Hammersworn



The Aedelfaari

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Bright_Ops The Insane Scholar

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The Mustaqilun Tribe [Turn 2]




"For farks sake! I didn't think gathering everyone here to have this talk was needed because it was basic common sense, but clearly I was wrong because... what was his name?" Rukdug's angry rant was briefly put on hold as the name of the exact target of his ire had briefly escaped him. Shortly after one of the hunters had gone missing and the two 'survivors' of the group returned, the Warchief had taken the time to gather everyone who was currently in camp in order to have a little chat...

Even as the crowd had been gathered it was clear that there was some degree of concern in the air; Not fear, but between an idiot wandering off on his own and disappearing and the dwindling food stores, the possibility of a bad future was drifting into view like a dark storm cloud. Action had to be taken and taken now, before the situation had the chance to spiral out of control.

Shaking his head and making a dismissive gesture big enough to be seen by most of the crowd, Rukdug swung back into irritated leader mode before anyone else in the crowd had a chance to actually call out Morog's stupid name. "Bah! Doesn't matter what his name was, if he's still alive when I find him his name is going to be changed to shithole digger; His punishment for stupidly going into unknown and hostile terrain alone will be to dig and clean out cesspits until the day he farking dies!"

Even as the beginnings of a murmur started to raise in the crowd, Rukdug brought his hands together in a thunderous clap to silence his listeners and keep the focus on him and what he was saying. "We're going to be going back to basics here people! The very stuff that was beaten into your skulls since the day you were able to crawl. Until further notice, the following is to be considered law until we are in a position where we can change them."

Taking a deep breath, he began. "Rule number one: At all times, all orcs able to wield a weapon is to have one close at hand, if not on their body at all times. Simple enough, most of you do it anyway already. It's just common sense."

"Rule number two: Until we have a better lay of the land and knowledge of what lives here, all hunting parties heading out into the wilderness are to be made up of no less then five hunters. Forming a hunting party larger then five requires my personal blessing with a reasonably valid reason for the extra bodies. Now before any of you start whining, I did the math; There is little in this world that could survive five orc hunters working together to bring it down and five hunters is the perfect mix of safety in numbers while still being quick and stealthy enough to actually catch something. You're not coddled humans or prissy elves, you're orcs so act like it!"

For the first time since his commanding rant had started, Rukdug actually paused long enough to let the crowd absorb what he was saying. Taking the chance to catch his breath fully, when he started shouting again it lacked the angry bite that it had while he was explaining the rules of common sense. "Now that's out of the way... Luza, Glomp, get your asses out here front and center!"

Luza and Glomp, the two orcs from the hunting trip that Morog was lost on, scrambled out of their spots at the front of the crowd and stood ridgy at attention; A hold over from Warchief Pash the Glutten, whom was prone to arbitrarily killing those who didn't show enough respect when he had deemed fit to give them an audience. The two were sweating, nerves eating them from the inside out as Rukdug looked from one to the other.

Then he smiled. They started to sweat more. "Luza, Glomp... I'm going to give you something that would never have happened across the sea. I'm going to give you the chance to prove yourselves innocent." The crowd went deathly quiet, staring at history in the making before them as Luza and Glomp stood there, stunned before Rukdug explained what was going to happen. "The two of you, myself and four hunters and trackers of my choice are going to find the spot were Morog parted ways from your group to go off on his own and then follow his trail to discover his fate. If your story checks out you will be found innocent; If we cannot find Morog or enough evidence to rule out foul play on your parts... well, the rest of your short lives are going to be frightfully interesting..."

Watching as the two 'hunters' gulped in fear, Rukdug turned his attention away from them for one final announcement. "Until my return, Captain Nyorgha is in charge. Nyorgha, I would speak with you before my departure. Everyone else, you're dismissed. We've all got work to do."

.......................................................

Once it was just Rukdug and Nyorgha, the Warchief felt himself relax a little. There were few orcs in his life before they crossing that he trusted and Nyorgha the Liberator was one of them. She had just been a grunt when he had first met her and took her on as one of his squad. Through at times she annoyed the hell out of him, she had proven herself time and time again to be competent and loyal; attributes that had helped her rise to be the youngest captain in the known history of Nomar during the removal of of that fat fool Pash.

Attributes that would serve him well still.

"What do you need me to do Rukdug?" She asked, getting straight to the point for once due to the seriousness of the situation.

"I need you to find and secure some kind of stable food source... or at least stable enough that we can get some farms going. Send out hunting parties, gather and pen animals, forage for fruits and roots... hell, if you can somehow manage it make some nets that we can stick in the river to catch fish. I don't care what you get or how you get it, just make it happen."

Nyorgha smirked at the request. "That all? Consider it done."
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