"Lost Continent: Flight From Muurdaan" (BeckonCall's FNB!)

[Beckoncall]

@General Deth Glitch :


The excavation continued, though to what end few of the workers could guess. The search for treasure was exciting to most, and they kept each other excited with their chattering of it. The elves had brought the fullest meal they'd had in over a week, and the finest meal they'd had in the new land. Some of the convicts whispered that Maeder was testing them, or that his dragon god was... still, they had the shelter of the ship and were far from what any of them perceived as real danger -- two other factions had gone over the top and surely they'd find trouble before the exiles did. But did Maeder intend for them to remain in that cramped merchantman forever? Surely he had a plan for building homes someplace. The countrymen urged patience to these requests, but they were getting more pressing.


The initial chamber was cleared and it was indeed a storehouse. Likely for goods coming from, or bound to the beach. The chamber was indeed as long as wide as a city-church, were the exiles to re-dress it for the job. it seemed the sand had ground and crushed the majority of effects in the area (though one corner of the area was speculated to be an office at one time) though more than 80 decanters, urns, and storage pots remained intact -- though some would have to be cleansed of the dusty detritus of the goods they once held. The vessels were worthy of storing grain, or fluids, all manner of things... and they were of superior quality as well, likely worth trading empty either to back home as curiosities or to their neighbors for more practical uses.


Of all the goods in the warehouse only a small row of vessels remained sealed... with a strange combination of rocksalt-impregnated wax. These vessels contained a generous amount of Tar-oil. Extremely flammable, extremely sticky, it was as often used in war as it was used as a water-sealant or a source of fuel. When first opened, the vessels vented fumes that demanded the excavation be quickly vacated. However, the size of the exit and the spirit of those helping above permitted this to be done with little incident... some bumps and bruises, a welcome switch to the surface crew for the worst exposed, and that was that. The Tar-Oil, often called "Earth's Blood" in the lands of Maeder's people, was a promising find indeed.


Beyond that the silo held three further mysteries -- an archway from the main chamber that was blocked with some kind of barred gate or portcullis, long since rusted in place. nearby the gate was found a bronze sign that was at one time affixed to the gate, marked "Contraband!" in familiar imperial script, though perhaps in a style a bit antiquated. As to what lay beyond the gate only rough-packed sand could be seen, and perhaps a bit of what might be some stone-wrought shelving. Besides this passage there was additionally a large circular grating in the center of the silo, perhaps some form of drainage or means of sanitation. the sand beneath the grating was packed almost as hard as rock however, and great effort would need to be expended even to get through the grating to get to it. Most of the convicts wished that Maeder would forget about it, there were much more pressing tasks to accomplish in the sunlight, wasn't there?


The last secret unearthed in the silo was without a doubt a safe of some kind. Fashioned of some kind of dwarven high-grade steel, the safe has two keys and some kind of combination mechanism hopelessly jammed with sand. It the deepest corner of what was thought to be the office area, it was almost a miracle Maeder's men didn't miss it entirely -- the last workers sweeping up the last bits of sand by chance uncovered the outline of the thing, but nobody on that detail harbored any illusions they could open it.


A couple of days had passed and another job was done. The Exiles had recently taken to sleeping under the stars in the depression, though many still slept in the safety of the ship. The last of the beer was found and passed round for a job well done, and some of the more culinarily talented workers of Maeder's folk had done their best to enhance, and stretch the Exiles rations with much of the nuts that were found in one of the cul-de-sacs. Most of the folk were pleased at this. Few mused how many seasons it might take for planted orchards of nut-trees to bear fruit... If Maeder willed it, it might be so... though it would not be a stable source of food on the timetable the faction knew they needed it. Maeder's men were free, and their spirits were beginning to recognize it. Gruff posturing gave way to crude jest amid former prison-mates... and most were too tired to fight anyway. A cool breeze blew off the ocean and many were content with a patch of sail for a cover and a sandbag for their head. The stars seemed to spin in the heavens above. Things were well.


(You may note your Acquisition of Pottery and "Earth's Blood" if you so choose. you may note the chestnuts and walnuts as potential commodities)

 

[Beckoncall]

@SpiralErrant


["Come on yous, gather up the seeds and all."]


The Chief was wise. It did not matter that they already had a fine store of Darkleaf to trade, mostly dry but some wet in the caravan's stores. It would not do until the Tyren could renew the resource, for their own pleasure if not prospective customers. Minax supervised her workers as silver coins danced in the ether between her horns. Perhaps should they ever encounter natives they might enjoy the darkleaf... demand made for polite neighbors and steady customers -- though many Tyren fancied the prospect of having no neighbors at all.


In the smattering of trees and shrubs that grew on their side of the river they found environment suitable to grow the Darkleaf. A small plot was outlined amid moist soil and scattered wood that would give the seedlings shade. If the Tyren could keep the herds away from them until their scent was suitably strong to keep them away on their own, they would have a fine nursery to sustain and expand a business.


The planting of "Sunwatchers" was another task entirely... for they had no history with the plant, and would have to attempt to cultivate it by trial and error. They knew it needed lots of light of course, and so chose a couple of hills midway between shear-cliff and boulder field so that the regular traffic of grazing animals could give it a wide birth. It was already known that perhaps just a handful of goats could eat every sunwatcher on the prairie in no time, and the sheep or cattle almost as quickly. Even then a few unskilled workers would be needed to watch, tend, and track the plants progress under different conditions... not to mention no one Tyren could be entirely trusted not to help themselves to at least some of the new and tender sunwatcher shoots they expected to grow. Growing wild the Tyren seldom saw more than one sun-watcher growing close to another -- unfettered tropism and lack of competition might be necessary for their growth. Just in case the workers got the attendance of a warrior and scattered the last of the seeds randomly on the far-side of the hills in the direction of the swamps. If the crop could not be domesticated, Tyren were no strangers to leaving plants to grow wild where they would later travel.


It was in the hands of time now. Orm's instruction and the attendance of his followers would see the efforts bear fruit, or not.

 

[Leusis]

The spirits of his people were high, something that gave Belanor a positive outlook on this new land, though his judgement would not be off by any means do to this. He was optimistic but extremely protective of his people, he would not allow a single drop of elven blood to soak this new land if he could help it. Hearing many things from his people as they continued on their path to the Tyren he had much to think about. The first was the boulders that dotted the landscape around them. If Anfel was correct in what she assumed this meant that attempting to excavate the field at some point could produce great things for his people. Sadly however they currently did not have the work force or the supplies to conduct such an operation and so it would have to wait.


Meeting up with the Tyren camp his people were accepted and even welcomed to some degree. It seemed like the Tyren enjoyed the company of elves to some small degree and the elves felt the same way, though in only a miniscule way. After giving all of his orders and just before he went to go speak with Orm he was contacted by one of the Glade Guard sent to the ship. From what he was told it seemed that one of those creatures that had spawned on the deck of the ship had grown to a ridiculous size and was now being held in the ship due to its fear of the elves. Picking his bow up off the ground and the box that held the tree gem he would hand them both to whoever happened to be the best wood worker. "I need you to carve a holder for the gem into my bow, it only needs to be capable of holding it for a short period, nothing too intricate. This night will be the time in which I test the offensive capabilities of this gem, and the night where I slay the last of those sea creatures". Belanor spoke with confidence before waiting patiently for the work to be finished on his bow. Once it was he would strap his quiver to his back and order one of his Winterborn warriors to follow him to the ship.


Moving as swiftly as possible it was likely that the exiles would witness Belanor himself come running down the sandy hill followed by both the Winterborn and the Glade Guard who had come to get him. Entering his ship he would immediately have the Glade Guard lead him to where his comrade had trapped the creature. Ordering the Guard who had trapped it to exit the room, Belanor and the Winterborn would take up their positions. Quickly drawing an arrow from their quivers both would nock their arrows and draw the bow strings swiftly and with ease. Each of them releasing an arrow at the same instant the Winterborn aiming for the eyes and Belanor aiming just above they intended to swiftly slay their foe. Hoping that his arrow would have some kind of added offensive capability Belanor would simply draw another arrow and wait to see if combat would commence or if the creature would die under the might of the magical gem.


So long as the fight went well Belanor would return back to camp with the three warriors who were on the ship only to be given more information. According to his Guard and Tree Kin there were bones around a single redwood and they seemed to simply fall from the tree. Among the bones was also a human skull and more likely than not, elven skulls as well if they decided to look. This worried Belanor, as the three trees were their best option for housing everybody and these bones could be a sign that living there was little more than danger for his people. Belanor however formed his decision almost instantly and voiced it to the returning Guard and Tree Kin. "We will abandon the trees as a home until we are able to discover what is truely happening around them. Until then I task you all with finding the largest wooded area on this side of the river, still close enough to easily keep an eye on the other colonies. Once that location is discovered I wish for all Tree Kin, under the protection of a dozen Glade Guard to begin using their magics to shape those woods into suitable housing". Belanor's words were final, he would not risk the lives of his people, even for the possability of living within those grand trees.


As for his conversation with Orm later that night, his reply pleased Belanor, though it seemed Orm didn't completely understand the time frame in which Belanor wished to cross. "I understand, and my intention was to cross once the spring melt had ended. And thank you for informing me of what your shaman had seen". Reaching a hand out to Orm he intended to shake the bulls massive hand, despite the risk he was probably running of having his crushed. It was a universal sign of respect, one that nearly every race understood, though Belanor wasn't so sure if the Tyren did. Leaving Orm shortly after he would give orders for a few Glade Guard to collect the dead in the morning and when they did, take all of the materials they had with them, including the cloth with the three trees depicted on it. They would then perform the ancient funeral tradition of there people by burying the dead on the outskirts of one of the small forests near the river and planting seeds where they were layed to rest. This was usually so that they could become one with nature, having their body feed the growth nature itself, but sadly the dead were little more than bones and would supply little nutrients to the growing trees.


- Kill sea scorpion using a bow with the tree gem


- Send elves out to find the largest forest near the other colonies and colonize it


- Speak with Orm and accept his offer and advice


- Bury the dead elves to feed the growth of trees and take the resources they had left behind as they would not need them anymore, as is the tradition of the wood elves.

 

[SpiralErrant]

Speaking to the dead

​

["You should go with them, Shul, make sure they find them proper."] Orm whispered as the elves turned away. He'd give them some escort and a wagon to pull the bodies back. It was common courtesy among all to not have their bones carried home in a bag. Orm was sure even an elf would agree with that.


Shul gave a solemn nod and come the next day he and two warriors were waiting on the path to the cliffs where the skeletons were to be found. The elves were an aloof lot so they could only really wait around and hope they would show up, luckily the minotaurs were more than easy to spot and made their intentions clear. Shul being able to easily speak the common tongue made things easier for all of them, even if he was still his strange, absent minded, self.


Made even clearer when the elves asked him how they found the bodies and Shul simply shrugged and said. "They called to me." As if that was the kind of answer anyone would give. "They were cold. been cold for so long. Scared... but they were so brave." He choked up a little at the memory. These visions could come on so strongly sometimes that Shul might feel their emotions as if they were alone. He had tasted the deaths of many passed souls and the wild minds of the spirits that lurked in the untouched places of the world. And the others wondered why he ate and smoked so many odd leaves! It was possible he'd taken a little hit this morning to calm his nerves.

Growing with time
​

Back at the camp, Orm was inspecting the freshly planted saplings. One of their head planters was standing by his side while he looked over the little shrub spot that they'd set aside for the sunwatchers and pretended to know what he was examining. She knew he didn't know the first thing about growing crops but she was nice enough to indulge him as chief as Orm nodded his head letting out hums of approval. It looked like it was going well to him at least.


["You've been doing a lot of good work here."] Orm said, feeling like the compliment wasn't enough considering all the effort.


["Thanks, Chief. Gunna be tricky though. We don't know much about this leaf so the crops are guess work at the moment, then there's keeping the herds off 'em, let alone the hands left to mind 'em."] She was a matter of fact kind of woman. Orm could appreciate that and no one had to tell him how tasty those new leaves were.


["I'll see you get some extra help for it. The young ones need to find some craft for themselves beyond odd hands now, if any of them prove to have an eye for this you can take them on as apprentices, full on. We'll be needing more growers soon."] He nodded with a happy snort. Orm was the kind of simple Tyren that still used childish terms like 'growers' for the herbalists of the caravan.


["More growers, eh?"] The cream coloured female minotaur tilted her head. If her people were known for their facial expressions she would have been smirking in amusement there. The caravan knew when they chose him that the Black-charger wasn't going to be as noble like as other chiefs, but she couldn't help but find his little ways funny at times. ["Things sure are changing much, eh Chief?"]


["And more by the day!"] Orm pepped up.


["We going to get any rest while we spring here?"]


["Some soon. Everyone's been working hard but we'll celebrate soon, I promise. It'll all get recognised. Just some more stuff I got to be doing first."] Orm nodded along, full of a surprising amount of energy today. Well it was still morning, he'd have time to get irritable later no doubt. There was that spring in his step today though as he walked down the hill from her, his head full of plans.


["No rest for you though, eh chief?"] She called after him.


["Never for me, not allowed."] He called back up the hill, waving at her. ["Well... uh...bye!"]


Orm shook the odd feeling out of his head and filled it back up with all the plans he was making. He'd sent people out on their morning jobs and handed out more as he passed some idle bulls and cows on his way through the camp. There was an easy way to help the leaf patches, Orm thought, with plenty of easy supplies. That would be in hand by the end of the day he hoped.


For himself, Orm had to go meet Rahg and some of the other warriors to scout things out. They were going to the 'Skyhill' to look into the spike of stone on its side. Orm didn't like the thing, ever since he'd heard of the bones Shul had found, along with all the abandoned stone work in the fields, the ominous structure filled him with dread. But he planned to control this land and he wouldn't have his own cursed tree thing so close and not know more about it. He patted the stone that now hung around his neck, beating gently in time with his own heart. If there was magic there, maybe the amber would be the key. A better use of its power than clearing the fields anyway.


Actions:


- Shul takes a wagon and two warriors to help the elves recover the dead he found. (Chance for more in character interations if @Leusis likes)


- More hands are given over to growing the "Sunwatchers" and Dark leaf plants. New total is: two Skilled Worker, six unskilled workers.


- Ten Unskilled workers are sent with some wagons to clear the prairie of the scattered stones and boulders to bring as much back to camp as they can so they can build some low pile stone walls around the dark leaf and sunwatcher patches to help keep out wandering animals. Two Skilled workers/craftsmen are leading the task. Two warriors are sent with them as escort and to lend some raw strength when needed.


- Orm, Rahg and two other warriors are going to scout out the stone spire on the "Skyhill". Orm is carrying the earth gem.

 

[Beckoncall]

@Leusis :


"I need you to carve a holder for the gem into my bow, it only needs to be capable of holding it for a short period, nothing too intricate. This night will be the time in which I test the offensive capabilities of this gem, and the night where I slay the last of those sea creatures"


An impossible request of a normal enchanter -- but perfectly within the Wheelhouse of the tree-singer Ilythyrra. Ilythyrra the shaper, Ilythyrra of the mazes, Ilythyrra Hearthweaver.


She took Belanor’s bow over her knee and bid he place the magic jewel nearby. As if pulling tiny strands with her fingers between the two objects, fibrous hairs rose from the side of the bow, and from the surface of the gem itself. Moving her fingers more delicately the strands of fiber reached for one-another and knitted themselves into one. The gem hung from this strand along the handle of the bow. Ilythyrra almost bored by the task handed the fused treasures back to the Autumn Lord.


“Nothing too intricate. Have your fun – their link should break after one or two applications of the conduit to magical force. If it does not, discontinue use of the bow until I can divorce them. More than that and you risk breaking the bow, or the gem. To do better the objects must become one. She was already producing some other object of craft and seemed not to notice Belanor take his leave back to the ship…


On his arrival the Elf Lord and his attendants relieved the single glade guard that had backed it into the deepest part of the hold. The beast recoiled in the dark, snapping it’s claws aggressively but not charging forth… it was cornered.


His intended actions were brought to effect. Even as he drew back the bowstring a line of green light spread in an arc from the center handle, to the tips of his fingers that touched the arrow at the end of his pull. Thorns seemed to sprout from the arrowshaft, and the arrowhead grew over with some kind of seed. He gave the order for the winterborn to fire. The shot of the winterborn alone was nearly enough to kill it, piercing it’s eye and sending half of the beast into involuntary spasms from a shattered nervous system. At the same time, Belanor loosed his arrow hitting it square at the front of it’s head, and the whole arrow seemed to burst into a small cloud of spores at the point of impact.


Belanor was not impressed. He knocked another arrow and in the same motion the winterborn had as well. But before the second volley could be loosed, an expanding net of writhing vines burst from the tiny cloud and wrapped around the Sea-Scorpion’s Body, claws, and tail. Belanor stayed his hand for a moment longer, and then watched as the vines strangled the life out of the enormous scorpion. Moments after that, the chitinous shell of the creature began to snap and pop under the pressure. It lay with legs splayed on the ground, one leg twitching hideously long after the rest of it was dead. Quite an effect, really – though he wondered if there was not more breadth or variation he could bring to the incanting of arrows in this manner.


Eteel, the winterborn warrior, shouldered his bow. It occurs to me perhaps too late now, that if we cared to we could have made a mount of that creature. The beasts of this land may become the best allies we have – regardless of such things not being such common practice in modern times and in our homeland. But not too late I think to utilize the husk of this creature as a material for armor, Lord. He inspected the corpse and pulled up a plate burst open by the now withering vine that consumed it. The armor is light, and I think we’ll not find a more fitting armor to keep out rain or not impede the swimmer… consider this. (You may note “Armor Chitin” as a non-renewable resource if you wish)


HOME:


As the claiming of territory went, the small copses of trees at the foot of the hills were less than ideal for so many elves. Each “Foothill forest” could comfortably house approximately 30 of Belanor’s kin, with hundreds of yards or more between the assemblies. The accommodations were pleasant (if a bit too quiet from the absence of wildlife) – but their home as it presently stood spread the elves very thin over half the length of the foothills. The springborn gazed longingly at the thick wood beyond the river, and were given a sense of pause relating to the great redwoods that so roused their excitement. A somber but restrained tone pervaded the Wood Elves that night. It would do for now, but in the long run – this location had to be temporary.


The tree singers however did their best to make it a bit more like home, creating bent boughs and mooring points for elves to climb more easily, and to hang their effects, bedding, and hammocks. Larger structures would take much more time and focus – something they wanted to be sure Belanor intended once it became clear they could not stay here indefinitely. Perhaps with enough magic or time the elves could merge the small wooded areas into a larger forest, also posited was the idea that should they unleash a great deal or perhaps even the full measure of the Green Tear’s power, that the problem of their home might be solved at once.


It was also worth mentioning that not far from the west was the landform the Tyren referred to as “Sky Hill” – A raincloud hovered in the area obscuring much of what could be seen, but it seemed to be a folk-made structure – not a natural outcropping. Glade guard on watched saw the minotaur chieftain and a small retinue head in the direction of the tower… though they did not consider the Tyren’s movement anything more than something to report in the morning.


The Grave of rock and sky:


The Tyren waited nearby with a wagon and a guide to show the Woodfolk exactly where the site was found. While very narrow for the Tyren, it was wide enough, if a bit close, for an elf. Barely intact glyphs revealed them to indeed be wood elves very likely from the previous attempt to colonize this continent. Very distantly related, these folk’s lands were little more familiar to Belanor than a point on a map despite his extensive travels and considerable years. A lady, clearly summerborn and likely a matron or educator, had futilely but bravely prolonged the life of 30 of her charges, likely the youngest and perhaps the last elves of her group. Wrapped around them was a spider-silk banner, with 3 trees representing their new elven settlement. If he wished he could use this piece as a regimental standard for the glade-guard, or have it fashioned into a cloak that was lighter but with better tensile strength than steel. Even more curious were the knives found on the matron – They were a pair of naught else but Sylvan “Gleamsplitters” A type of paired blades that were first invented in ancient times, when dwarves and elves put aside the worst of their enmities long before humans were doing little more than slapping the dirt with sticks. That relatively brief age of cooperation saw many innovations for both races, the Gleamsplitter being one of them. When enmities reignited these weapons went out of fashion, but they were still highly prized by elven thieves, scouts, intruders, and adventurers…


…You see, a Gleamsplitter, in the hands of an elf that knows the correct forms – does not reflect light like other metals, in fact it absorbs it. Treasured by those that valued stealth above all else a blade that did not reflect the light of the moon or a torch was an invaluable ally. Additionally, true masters of the weapon could release small amounts of this stored light, enabling thieves and adventurers discrete and ever present light source when they delved in darks too dim even for elven eyes. If the blade was old enough and seldom used, there could be enough light to release blinding flashes to assist such folks in rapid exfiltration if the need to flee arose. Belanor could tell these gleamsplitters were absolutely awash in hidden light, and they had a balance and wicked sharpness that demonstrated they were quite magical. For such a treasure to be reunited with his people was something to be glad for, and gain honor by. Even his kin at home would be interested in the news of their recovery. That the blade was enchanted was doubly a boon – for the colonist could bring few if any such treasures with them on their voyage.


The elves were laid to rest. The springborn took the Tyren up on the offer to ride them back to the copses… for they did not want to run with the bones of their kin. Songs of tranquility were quietly sung as they were committed to the soil of the wood, a wood that was claimed by their kin. They were finally and eternally back among friends. They took heart in this.

 

[Beckoncall]

@SpiralErrant


Clean up boulder fields, eh?” one of the Tyren workers scoffed. “We’re making WALLS now! HA!”


The rest of the detail nodded and grumbled in assent. Strange days indeed. The idea of a static settlement for their people where all their needs could be met sounded more fantastical to them then perhaps the idea of a lost continent – doubly so now that both realities applied to them.


They started systematically, the Tyren Directors parsed out the entire field into patched, and they would start clearing them from closest to the settlement all the way to “whenever it is Chieftain Orm tells us we should stop.” – this was work the Tyren were well suited for. The first patches were cleared of all but the smallest and largest debris in very little time… though once the initial rush smoothed into a routine they cleared a little slower, perhaps more methodical – with the Watchers coordinating the movement of the largest pieces onto a lever to be loaded onto the wagons. That is, until the warriors began to compete with one another about who could pull the greatest boulder free, and who could then throw said boulders into the wagon. Productivity rose somewhat after that, until there were almost injuries. The Warriors liked the sport of it, less so to plod around where the Watchers guided them.


With the exception of a few stubbornly large pieces, a full fifth of boulder field was cleared in less than two days. If they kept it up, they probably wouldn’t be calling it boulder field for long. The Watchers stopped the project as it seemed they had all the stone they’d likely need for the wall, and a good more than that above. (You may note Three carts of stone EXTRA beyond that which was needed to wall the gardens.) They would get more if Orm required it.


It was worth mentioning that boulders were not the only thing they found in the field, especially when large pieces of rock were unearthed. Rusted weapons and dilapidated homewares for hornless folk littered some of the pits, broken bits of pottery… and occasionally the odd gold or platinum bit. Tiny bronze bracelets, bits of loose jewelry… the most obviously valuable the Watchers gathered so it could be brought in a small pouch to Orm as spoils. The majority of the artifacts and remnants they left where they found them. (You can note “Pouch of loot from boulder field” – it’s not nearly enough to constitute a wealth point, though.)


At the end of the detail, the Warriors got back to their games trying to outdo their rival before called upon to stop. Their last trial was to take turns trying to hoist free a great hunk of semi-buried stone, taking turns when the other simply had to relent. As the Watchers set forth to stop the rough-housing the stone broke along a cleft the Tyren were using as a hand-hold, causing the whole thing to tumble away in two pieces. Underneath that debris was a graven head of silvery-flecked marble. It’s features were weathered by the same forces as all the debris of boulder-field, that of sudden powerful energy then slow decay. Much of the features of the face were hard to make out, but that it was part of a large statue of a rarer type of stone than most found amid the debris was evident. Not far, and partly uncovered seemed to be a part of an arm outstretched in embrace as one might a young child… it was impossible to tell, but the arm might be attached and part of some larger buried monument of some kind. Its discovery was a fine point, a sign perhaps, that their task was done for the moment. They would report their findings and bring back the stone.


...Orm would not be there to meet them, However -- There was the matter of Sky-hill spire to attend to, either the task itself or perhaps to discuss it's significance with the shamans... (con't)

 

[Beckoncall]

@SpiralErrant


The tower of sky-hill:


Ragh "Cold-Iron" walked tightly packed to the chief and his companions -- they would still have strength in numbers even if they were few. The Tyren were excellent warriors when they needed to be, but they were well resigned to the fact they were seldom quiet or unassuming when on the move. The idea of scouting this spire undetected did not even occur to Rahg - "We march for the Blood-Touched Chieftain, so let them know we are coming!" The other warriors raked the grass with their hooves in response.


As they traveled west they noted how the largest gatherings of trees at the edge of boulder-fields seemed literally festooned with elf-kin... but their sentries showed in their posturing their passage by their camp was not a problem, or if it was, they were still going to let them pass.


It was late afternoon when Orm and his warriors came to the outskirts of Sky-Hill... The clouds seemed to pack around the apex of the hill, partially obscuring the top of the spire. From this close Orm could make out that the winds and clouds seemed to whorl above the landform but he did not think much of this. Finding out what something was, to Orm, seemed often enough to decide what something did -- or at least to come to an informed conclusion as to whether an offending object should be greeted, smashed, or ignored. He attempted to carry such slow-learned axioms into his style of leadership. They stomped onward.


In the high grasses the Tyren began to detect strange phenomena -- always a middling distance ahead and/or to the sides of them, they would occasionally hear a sudden whirring of little metal wheels, or clanking of what sounded like metal cups dragged on strings. After the first few times the Tyren stopped hesitating at the phenomenon and instead tried to charge over and catch whatever was making the noise. They only ever saw drag marks in the dampened grass, the odd drag-trail of whatever it was that was scrabbling away, and the occasional fleck of rust.


The Tyren assumed they were being watched now. They pulled loose the "peace ties" on their weapons and either slung them over their shoulders or dragged them behind them as they walked...


The spire was partially obscured by the bulk of sky hill at this proximity... they still had not seen whatever was avoiding them, the whirrling, and buzzing and clacking grew more irritating to the Tyren with each fruitless search for the culprit... Orm especially was not amused. Rusted and broken springs and cogs could be found here and there in the grass now. The minotaurs were familiar with such baubles as part of clockwork and certain more exotic devices or toys they occasionally saw in their travels to stranger markets... but the Tyren were not attracted to such things. Such devices broke easily in the hands of Tyren. Ragh gave a wicked smile to Orm as they continued their vigil -- as if Orm and Rahg might be thinking the same thing...


Moving around the perimeter of Sky-hill they finally came around the bend of a steep rocky hillside awash with loose rocks and other scree that proscribed it being climbed directly. Stepping from behind the intervening terrain Orm and his Tyren stood almost at the foot of the spire now. A narrow "ant's path" trail seemed to wind up and around the entire hill more than once, taking a path of least resistance to an entrance more than half way up the spire. There were no windows or observation slits on the tower at all, save near the top where a stuttering yellow light could be seen, and a great white beam rising from the top that was from here, clearly causing Sky-Hills distinct corona of clouds. A short distance up the trail was what seemed to be a small man-made plateau or parade-ground -- like part of one of the hilltops that clotted around the central mound was shorn off to make space on the trail.


Here he saw a small but growing number of clockwork soldiers -- There were barely over two dozen of them in any state of repair, but these were quite busy scouring the high grass for their rusty and damaged counterparts in the surrounding terrain and... Winding them up? Yes -- great keys spun in the backs of the silvery ones, and they jerkily were picking up delapidated soldiers and attempting to wind them as well... Orm saw the automatons fail to revive a fallen comrade more than once, as he approached he saw one of their number break the key right off the back of a damaged companion only to subsequently drop it on the ground and look for another one. When Orm's Tyren reached the foot of the ant's path -- he could see that many of the soldiers in assembly (whether to meet or impede them) were sheared in half, and stood in formation as a torso would prop itself on rusted and pitted arms. Some hunched over exposing clanking and grinding parts. They moved with purpose though... but for what purpose seemed a growing concern.


Orm thought of them as soldiers because most every one of them was armed. Blades bound with cords to disintegrating hands, an axe jury-rigged onto a spoke in one's shoulder, while many of the best-maintained ones had long halberds seemingly clinging to their backs as if by magnets. Orm could now see these things were forming a regiment. A regiment in the way of Orm finding out what lay ahead.


At this distance, one of the shiny clockworks actually turned to take notice of Orm's party -- turning it's head in a range of motion that made it look like it's neck was broken, then the entire body turning to align with it before descending down the ants-path. It did not draw it's halberd, but it did not look like a peaceful construct. It stopped at a distance Orm thought was more typical of parley than attack, and heard the whirring of tiny pieces as the "Toy" focused it's eyes on them. Behind it, as industrious as ever, the growing host was scouring sky hill for their fallen, and bringing them to the parade ground to wind them... and with it the whirring and clanking rose ever higher...

 

[SpiralErrant]

["What are we supposed to do with the rest of them?"]


["I don't know, just leave it until Orm gets back."] Shul sighed as the working hands went about their business. ["Maybe he'll want to build even more walls or houses and castles!"]


He regarded the sack of metal niceties the workers had gathered up in their rock picking and threw it on the pile. They'd been gone for a while now and Shul had been anxiously watching the rain clouds over Skyhill. The place looked so unwelcoming and ominous... Shul wouldn't want to go up there. So of course that thick headed fool had marched up there the first chance he got. Orm really had to take those old sayings about being the chief so seriously but nooo!


"If there's a path to be trod then it falls on the chief to take the first step."


Shul gave a snort as his idle hands fidgeted with one of the smaller rocks. ["You believe this nonsense?"] He sais to Ummush. He may as well have spoken to the rock.


- Finish setting up the low pile stone walls around the crops. Excess materials are stockpiled.

*****

​

'Every time I think maybe I can like this place, that maybe it isn't so bad, it just thinks of something new to throw at me' Orm grumbled away inside his own head. First he had to put up with the boat and getting tossed around like a ragdoll! Then it tried to kill him with giant monsters! This whole land seemed to be dead before anyone got here! And now, NOW, he was being stalked through the rain. Each time he or the others charged through the long grass towards the sound of this annoying buzzing and clacking the source was long gone. Orm huffed and snarled along with his warriors as they carried on trudging through the mud. But despite their bravado each of them was getting more on edge, their weapons were drawn and each of them sniffed at the air as they glanced at each rustle among the grass.


It wasn't until they reached the crest of the hill that they got they found the things that had been pestering them... and suddenly all those little tinker pieces they'd found strewn among the grass made sense. Orm felt himself take a gulp of shock as he stopped dead on the spot. All the others seemed to think similar, this kind of thing wasn't like anything they'd ever seen! The fighters muttered curses of shock and made claims that these must have been strange demons or monsters of the isles. One naive fella offered up that maybe they were just wearing armour. He got put down quick enough when Rahg pointed out that - some of them didn't have any damn legs! They were like dwarven toys brought to life or something.


It was freaking Orm out! He kept looking at the weapons that were stitched to them or actually held in the hands of those in better repair. He had to fight the primal urge to charge right at them and smash the lot to pieces. Not even because of his cursed rage, just because they seemed so unnatural they must have been wrong. Then one of them turned to face them (in the most disgusting way possible) and approached the group.


All of them tensed up. They'd each been in enough fights to see that these things were forming up like human soldiers were known to do. The Tyren warriors readied their weapons for the fight they were each expecting. They might have charged themselves if Orm hadn't hurridly raised his hand to halt them.


["Hold up! Hold up, lads! They haven't started anything yet."]


["You kidding, Chief?!"] Rahg said in disbelief.


["If there's fighting to be done, I'll be the one to start it!"] Orm snarled over his shoulder, putting the freshly names bull in line. ["Just keep an eye on my ax."]


With that he stepped forward, towards the waiting metal man that had broken off from the group. He couldn't help but hear the sound of more of these strange things coming to life. Orm was used to fighting out numbered but that was against things he knew. These things though, they just raised dread and questions and Orm wasn't about to risk their limited numbers against a threat like that so close to the caravan. Not unless he had to.


He raised his hand and waved to the shining metal thing before spreading his arms in as nonthreatening a manner as he could while holding his rough bladed war ax. "Hello!" Orm bellowed over the gap between them. "We Tyren. No fight. You friend?" Maybe he should have gone with someone else to try and parlay but he was the chief. Besides, who could say if this thing even understood anything?

 

[Beckoncall]

@SpiralErrant


The noisy machinations inside the eyes of the creature whirred quizzically as Orm made his gestures. It's head tilted in a manner that would indicate on anything living that it's neck was broken. It seemed to scan and measure the placement of Orm's hands and arms, trail up his horns, then line up it's feet followed by the rest of it with the space to the right of the group.


It too took a less militant posture and a tiny window opened up in it's solar-plexus. Within, he could barely make out a series of tiny grooved gears resting perpendicular to some kind of needle. one of the grooved gears rose in line with the needle, turning upon meshing with a gear above it. The needle slid horizontally to strike the gear, and a slow burbling noise emanated from a meshed area on it's shoulder blade. For a few seconds the slow burbling continued, seeming to skip and repeat a final syllable over and over and over again. The window with the discs closed, and it turned it's back on Orm and his comrades, then after a pregnant pause began to clitter-clack it's way up the "ant's path"... before the bend necessitated that the object turn, it quickly whips it's arm behind itself holding it's halberd horizontally as if to make a wall behind itself. It's elbow spins once in yet another range of motion Orm sees as wholly unnatural, spinning the weapon on it's axis to strike the ground behind the thing leaving a distinct horizontal line cutting across the gravel path. In another fluid motion it places the halberd onto it's back and proceeds to walk back up to the parade ground.


On that area above, one of the rustier automatons standing in formation suddenly bends it's spine backwards 90 degrees, begins to fling sparks from underneath it's body/breastplate, then shoots numerous gears through it's own armor towards the sky. Crumpling into a smoking and ticking heap, one of the better-conditioned automatons uses it's halberd to sweep it out of formation where another one takes it's place, it's entire front caked with mud and grass stains.


When the metal thing that came down to perform his strange exchange reaches the parade ground, the entire regiment of clockwork soldiers turns towards the path further up the hill, with the most intact ones picking up the more dilapidated or legless ones out in front of themselves maintaining a uniform distance from the rank ahead and behind them. Further up the path a tunnel cuts through the center of sky hill ostensibly to eventually wind up at the spire.


The things clattering and clacking echoes louder as they enter the tunnel, then stops altogether at once. Rahg and the other warriors looked to Orm to decide what they would do next...

 

[Leusis]

Belanor would do exactly as expected and bring the Chitin Armor to camp, asking that the most suitable worker for the task create as many sets of armor as possible. As for the meat of thee creature, that would have been dragged over to the Exiles so that they could cut it up and eat it due to their low food supply. However, Belanor gave specific warning that theey knew nothing of the meat they were giving and that it could possibly be dangerous to consume. Once back to camp Belanor would simply continue his basic duties, even help with the burial of his kin, giving a Gleamsplitter to each of his Winterborn warriors.


Days later Belanor had been spending his time doing many things, the most important of which was managing the food supply of his people, sending many elves out to fish, hunt and gather what they could without harming the ecosystem. The elves however with everything they picked would attempt to harvest and plant seeds in hopes of growing a surplus of the bushes or trees that harbored fruit. When Belanor recieved word of that the Tyren had gone up Sky Hill he was slightly upset that his Glade Guard had not informed him earlier. Even though he was busy traveling between the many small forests his people now lived in he still wanted to find time to know the movements of thee other colonies and either aid them or at least figure out what they were doing. In this instance Belanor elected to ignore the tyren warriors for now, simply waiting for them to return so that he could ask what the saw. If they didn't return by the next morning however he would send out a search party with himself among their number to look for them.

 

[SpiralErrant]

Well that happened.


Orm stood, slack jawed at all the alien actions that unfolded in front of him. He'd followed up the ant path just far enough to see the metal man rejoin his friends. One of them looked like it was just keeling over dead before they left but he honestly couldn't tell with these. The last few weeks had been throwing one world rocking encounter after another at him!


["Y'okay, Chief?"] Rahg mumbled as he came up beside Orm who was still looking up the hill towards the tunnel opening. ["We not going after them?"]


They'd both stopped on their side of the line that had been cut in the path. Maybe neither of them were the brainiest of bulls but they knew the traveler's sign for when a boundary had been set. A line marked in steel was certainly one the maker did not want you to cross. But damn if Orm wasn't tempted. He'd cut and smashed through armour before, cleaving the flesh behind it in half. He could smash his way through a few of those he reckoned, half of them couldn't even walk on their own! But the way that lead one had moved, the speed and the way its limbs could twist and bend in impossible ways, that could give him pause. He had to remember they were still few and he had others to defend before laying siege to whatever lay ahead.


["We don't even know what could be in that tunnel."] He said, his tail twitching in agitation. ["Could be more of those things. Could be traps. There's magics at work here, that much is clear."] He should go back to camp, get the word of a shaman on this.


'Or I take another step. This stupid toy man, what is he to tell me where to go?!'


No! No, Orm wasn't a moody youngster anymore! He wasn't the type to rush in like that anymore, he'd promised himself. He'd promised the caravan!


["We go back for now. Hear out the experts on this first."] He turned and headed back down the hill with the others in tow.


It was further into their trip back that Rahg let his own grumblings out. ["I think we could have taken them, little things like that, they'd break easy."]


["Or they'd slice us easier."] Orm grunted. He still had his own urges to keep in line, he didn't need this. He sped up his step, pulling Ragh along with his so the two of them walked further ahead of the group and out of earshot. ["You know how many of us there are that can lift a blade with any skill, Ragh, I don't have to tell you there aren't many. And how many times back in the old country did any of us go out looking for fights? Not many is what."] Nothing that wasn't vengeance fueled or desperately needed. ["And now, here, there's even fewer of us. Our job is to defend those that need it so they can live peaceful like. A boring day for us is a happy one for the herdsmen."]


["So we let them live knowing that those... demons are over the hills?"]


["Course not!"] Orm gave him a cuff round the back of the head. ["We defend them there, where the ground's on our side. What would you have us do, walk into the dark at half strength? Not knowing who we're fighting or what they're up to?"]


["Well... I mean..."] Rahg didn't have much of an answer to that.


["I'm not saying we leave it, Cold-iron, I'm saying we leave it for now is all."] Orm was using the other fighter's war name, an open sign of repect among those that had them, something to be done among equals. ["We've gotta fight smart from now on, friend. Can't just be goin' rushin' in blinded, bad enough that I do it anyway. Just cus others think us stupid beast doesn't mean we should act like it. It means we fight to prove them wrong. You and me more than any other."] His tone was softening a little here but he was still looking dead at the other minotaur, his eyes stern and serious as he held Rahg's attention. ["You're a named fighter now, Rahg, responsibility comes with that. The others look up to you and it'll be up to you to help lead them when I can't. That means when the time comes you'll be using this..."] He tapped Rahg's head. ["As much as you use this."] He tapped at the sword blade. ["Do that and you'll win every time."]


["Don't see how that could kill me as many as you have, Charger. Last I saw you didn't use your head that much in a fight past smashing stuff with it."] Rahg wasn't angry there, just a little confused by it. In all his experience Orm was always running far ahead of the warriors, usually off on his own and picking fights with as many foes as he could at once.


["It's harder for me, true. So I gotta cram it all in before the rage hits and then I count on Bruul from there."] Orm nodded ["Why do you think you lot never had to face too many blades, cus we'd herd them like the others do cattle so they'd have to fight me on worse terms. Soften 'em up for you lot to grab all the glory!"] He gave Rahg a playful shove with his shoulder as the two of them carried on.


["Well that 'aint fair!"] Rahg laughed. ["How am I to be beating my victory in the tournament now with you two up to that?"]


["Nah, Rahg. For me victories aren't about how many of theirs I can kill. It's how many of ours come back."] He had to remember that Rahg was a younger bull, his fire was still burning hotter and he still had more he wanted to prove. ["If you want to learn more about the ways of these things then I can help you and Bruul's even better at teaching it then me. He learned a lot out there in his time away. You're named now, it's your right to learn... and you could earn some more deeds out here with it."]


["Aye, suppose I might want to be better ready to fight the things that live out here."] Rahg pondered and stroked at the mass of scar that ran down his body. ["A moon-touched war maker and a blood-touched thinker. A fine strange bunch we make. eh chief?"]


["Strange enough to fit right in here!"] Orm roared and slapped his comrade heartily on the back. ["Come on. Let's go home."]

 

[Beckoncall]

@General Deth Glitch @Leusis


Men on the deck of Maeder’s once ship, now fort saw the elves approach, It was none other than the boss of the elves, Belanor – flanked by what was obviously his two toughest warriors and a couple of his soldiers. Belanor’s warriors each held up one corner of a wooden palette upon which seemed to be a large mound of chopped shrimp. “The boss is in repose, suh good ewf suh” the obviously under-educated Exile minion grunted. Once it was understood that the elves had come to offer more food (that they found too disgusting to eat) the under-educated folk then demonstrated their over-appreciation. They seemed to nod at Belanor’s warning that it might not be entirely safe to eat… he turned in his head the thought of if it would be more annoying or darkly humorous if they somehow managed to poison themselves. The sweating apes scampered down the side-ropes and started to pull the Euripatid meat through a crude gate they built into the Keel of the ship. As it opened a rumor of the odor within wafted out, rising to just the level of notice that Belanor and his company would find it utterly repulsive.


The exiles found that if they cooked the meat until it was very tough, it was not the most pleasant of proteins, but many felt that meat was meat. (Food level of Exiles is temporarily STABLE) One of the skilled workers, an apothecary charged with cleaning the meat, located the poison glad for the creature and harvested it. (Potential Resource: Blade Venom) – while very mild by the standards of aquatic and cold-blooded creatures, this poison nevertheless is excruciatingly painful to warm blooded creatures. While not lethal except in large doses, applying it to weapons could cause significant discomfort and give the poisoner an advantage.


The elves turned promptly and carried the Chitin plates of the creature back to the Forest Kin for crafting. They would be long gone before the next human would attempt to hail them. Back at camp, he saw the Forest Kin, fresh on their minds the daunting scene at the great trees, they were fortifying the center-most woods they were making their camp in – The tree-singers spun fast-growing bracken in between the outer-most trees, serving like barbed wire on the outskirts of their forest wall. Trees that were closest together had their branches shaped to form fence-like obstructions and platforms for archers. In the center of the wood several trees were spun around each other like cables, all the boughs being bent into a central platform which all the trunks supported. On this elevated platform, the elves could make a concerted defense, as well as lay seating and comforts as a place to hold court. A lone chair rested in the center of the platform, a hurriedly shaped but suitably elegant and comfortable throne for the Autumn lord. Underneath this “Kneeling Wood” Platform was a dark crawlspace that would remain cool and damp, making hot days comfortable on the platform, and allowing the Forest folk to grow mushrooms and root vegetables. The springborn hung knitted drapes of leaves and other brush as camouflage, and dug a ring of pits at staggered intervals where the elves would be sure not to come and go upon.


With the work of the Winterborn tree-singers all of this was accomplished in days. Nothing the elves would call sufficient, but well into the realms of efficient. The mushrooms and roots, with the power of the tree singers – would start sustaining the faction in a matter of days to a week, superficially at first, but over time it would be a sustainable and reliable food source right under their feet. Anfel remarked that if Belanor was willing to apply some of the power of his gem, the defenses, and food supplies could be accelerated further still. It would still be a fair amount of time before every elf in his faction enjoyed such amenities, but they were well on their way.


As his forest kin tended to improving defenses and creature comforts (at least in the center-most camp as of yet) The springborn were sent to fish under glade guard supervision. At first fishing was fairly poor, with the current making it both hard to see, and control their lines, but by the second day the Springborn had mapped out a series of wading areas and deep spots in the middle of the river where the largest fish apparently lurked. Before long the Long-leaves the elves laid their catch on were nearly covered with fish, then subsequently rolled up for transport back to the foothill woods. The elves surmised that by targeting the fish at the top of the river ecosystem they might grant additional relief to lower food chain animals and speed the recovery of the ecological distribution in the area.


The springborn were also able to identify many types of edible and even somewhat medicinal plants along the riverbank. A particular reed, very similar to a “cat-tail” had very nourishing roots and seeds below water level, and it’s bloom, properly dried, could be ground into a painkiller and clotting agent.


(NOTE ELVEN FOOD RESOURCES: MUSHROOMS, ROOT VEGETABLES, RIVER FISH, WATERPLANTS) ELVEN FOOD STATUS: AMPLE.


After exploring the full length of the river, the springborn discovered two likely ways to ford the river relatively easily. Half way down the river was an old and cracked poured-stone wharf, where riverboats once moored. From far the edge of that platform rope-lines could be fired into the trees at the far end and allow elves to cross hand over hand.


The second crossing was a bit more disturbing… close to the mouth of the river but far enough upstream from the worst rapids and the falls inself, lay what at first appeared to be a large collection of fallen logs cobbled together like a bridge – when the elves drew close they could see that it was not a bridge at all, but the rotten body of a giant Tree-Ent. It’s head, arms and legs completely distinct, It’s center trunk unmistakably topped with a large open mouth and eye-pits, Long years of decay, moss, flowers and all manner of plant life have sprung up all over and around the Tree-man’s body. If an Elf (or anyone) dared to, they could walk across this Ent-body to ford the river, even now – though to fall into the river below would be a genuine peril so close to the falls.


@Leusis @SpiralErrant


Naehorn, the glade guard Belanor was displeased with (if not outright chastised by) had sworn to redouble his efforts. Hours later the movement of the Tyren as they returned was reported immediately - and if possible the Tyren would be hailed for information. he also went as far as to track them the way they went and attempt to determine what they had been up to, now that they were returning. He reports later of seeing rusty cogs and springs scattered in the hills to the west, He also found a badly corroded kris knife (a wavy dagger, perhaps weighed for throwing) in the fields as he went… its style altogether foreign to the elves, and too subject to the ravages of time to say much about its quality. It was obvious the Tyren went to examine the Spire of Sky-Hill, but stopped short at the base for reasons that were not entirely clear. The elf stealthily surveyed the terrain, noticing that overgrown frescoes and carving was barely visible on overgrown hillsides leading up sky hill. He saw the barrier line and decided not to violate it, instead gathering the best intel he could from the ground, which was substantial. Most notably it seemed that a wooden sign, recently placed and just as recently fire etched, was stuck plaintively on the path uphill. a “No Trespassing” sign in all likelihood, though for the amount of characters used to convey it was surely some kind of rodomontade. The lettering seemed distantly related to Arcanic Alphabets in the far west of the old world, but was otherwise thoroughly unrecognizable. The Scout rapidly sketched the sign on a reed pad and intended to show it in his report.


The shapers proclaimed that the Chitinous plates of the “Euripatid Alpha” would be made into 15 suits of carapace banded-mail. Reinforced with their normal plant-armor materials it was as strong as scale mail with a fraction of the weight. In water a streamlining property of the shell improves mobility even further – giving it additional utility on river or sea should it be needed.


(NOTE: 15 suits of Chitin-Scale – this may also be a marketable commodity)

 

[Elucid]

[media]

​

[/media]


The ship and its crew had left port Cestus just a few weeks after the first colonials , but it seemed to them that they had fared much worse than the others , there had been no sign of land since they left muurdaan it was just a vast , still ocean all around them .


The men grew weary and tiresome of the long voyage some even started to regret ever coming on board , so what do privateers do when doubt and fear takes over? well yes they sing . They sang while the rigger furled the sails or as the swab mopped the deck but alas all good things must come to an end and in our case the singing ended when the man on the crows nest started shouting like a madman ["land ho! land ho!"] .


The Admirals cabin


["I daresay sir , if privateering doesn't work out for the men above they'll have a real future in the music industry."]


Vorenus gave out a slight simile and continued speaking


{"As I was saying Mr. Cyrus , I would like to have a detailed inventory list before we ....."}


The Admiral was interrupted by a knock on the door


{"Come on in , what seems to be the matter?"}


["land m'lord , we've spotted land."]


{"Well then, i suppose there is no rest for the wicked eh.?"}


Vorenus got off of his chair , dismissed the castellan and made for the deck.


The Main Deck


The Admiral was met with silence and anticipation as he exited his cabin , all of the men on board the ship had made a circle below the helm . The Adm. walked on over to the wheel and was greeted by his first mate who handed him the spyglass .


{"The island looks safe enough as far as i can tell from this distance , what worries me tough is that there are no signs of another colonial vessel , there were four of them if i'm correct"}


["Yes sir four colonial ships made the voyage from Port Cestus just a few weeks before us. If I may sir , i'd suggest we make camp on the island first and then worry about the rest of the colonials , the men grow weary of travel sir."]


{"Yes i suppose you'r right"}


Vorenus hands the spyglass back to his first mate and shouts


{"Make ready men we sail for land, welcome to the New world!!"}

 

[SpiralErrant]

And all was safely gathered. Orm could finally take a load off his weary legs as he sat down against the wagon that was given over to the three shamans. The reek of smoke had long since made its own home in the canvas covering. At least the garden walls were getting put up, Orm could see the sunwatcher one going up on its hilltop placing as they came through the valley back to camp. He assumed the lower one given over to the dark leaf was going well too. He could just leave it at that, close his eyes and treat himself to a nap while everything was going well! Only there were evil metal folk living just a few hills away with what might have been a death fortress, Orm didn't know. And not knowing was a bad thing for a chief.


["You're looking well."] Shul scoffed as he passed by. ["Been all go around here, y'know, the others brought back more stone than we know what to do with. We building a village now or something?"]


["Go get the others."] Orm said, not looking up from the grass. Shul would know who he meant. ["I need all of you on this... and I need to see the plates."]


Shul gulped at that part. Orm wasn't kidding around by the looks of him. The ragged shaman ran off to fetch his fellows.


'Building a village. So what if I am?' Orm was in no mood for anyone giving him a hassle after it felt like he'd spent near two days wearing his hooves down to nubs for nothing. Could they not see how things were going back across the sea? Their ancestral grazing grounds were being snatched up each season and grounded settlements were becoming less welcoming every winter. The bandits got bolder and the supposed lawful armed types got edgier or more brutal until Orm couldn't tell the difference between them. Other folks in the caravan talked about things so differently Orm wondered if the world out there was different for them.


For the longest time he'd been 'kept in the back' as a last resort. No one had trusted the blood-touched to come into town or deal with the merchants for fear something would happen and he'd snap. Orm only ever got let off the leash when things had already gone horribly wrong. He never really got to see people of other races at their best. Maybe all the presents they so openly gave back before they set off was normal.


Either way it didn't matter. He knew enough about the world to know how things would go if they kept up their roaming ways. They'd make a fresh start here. Orm would find the birthing lands, and if he couldn't... then he'd make some fresh ones! In fact that gave him an idea!


["You lads!"] He called over to some passing minotaurs. ["I've got important work for you. Bring one of the merchants and some bigger lads here, quick!"] Once they were gathered he gave them their orders. The merchant and their idle hands would head back to the beach landing with a pair of fighters as escort for the trip. Once there, they'd gather up that blue and yellow striped cloth from the boat they'd come on. They were a little uncertain of the task until Orm told them that once they'd taken that they'd see if they could sell the boat onto the humans that had set up shop around there. He didn't plan on going to sea again in a hurry. They liked the idea of that better.


Once he was done giving orders out the three moon-touched arrived shortly after. ["Hello, fellas, do I have a story to tell you."] Orm clapped as he walked with them to their communal yurt. He only hoped they'd believe him, it still sounded mad to Orm himself, and he'd seen it.


- Send 1 skilled worker (Merchant) and 2 unskilled workers with 2 warriors as escort to the sloop. Their task is to retrieve the striped sails and to talk to the humans about possibly selling them the ship. (@General Deth Glitch )


- Orm holds a meeting with the 3 shamans and tells them about what he saw at Skyhill. He's hoping to get their thoughts on the matter and consult Ummush's iron plates on it.

 

[Beckoncall]

@The Elusive Shadow


{"Make ready men we sail for land, welcome to the New world!!"}


The Merchantman of the Imperial Oriental Company Glistened above the water, even as the sea glistened beneath. It’s cosmetic barding and gilding was a challenge to all that would face it – Them aboard did not fear pirates. On deck, a regiment of mercenaries – “The Faith of the Rich” gleamed themselves as well in the moonlight, their partial plate and chainmail adorned with seals of veterancy, trophies, and the trappings of war. Their helms trimmed with gold and silver, each one sporting ostentatious plumage. The champion of the regiment, known simply as “the paymaster” paced in front of them.


The sound of the waves lapped at the vessel the small and unseasonably tropical island was their target of soon landing… the time had come – in minutes the company would have its boots on the ground… ground at last.


“Hear this, dogs! Admiral Lucius has paid us – and paid us well for the fighting and the dying, and you will look good doing so! If you dream of spoils, if you dream of opportunity – WAKE THE DEVIL OUT OF IT – THAT DREAM IS UPON YOU. We shall make our fame and fortune by making flesh the will of Vorenus… and none of you shall disappoint. This new land may not know of our great and prestigious heraldry, it will fall upon us to teach them. If any who know of the powers we represent seek to forget – it shall fall to us to remind them. You need only know that from top to bottom this venture is of one mind… fortune. In this capacity each of us has already won this campaign – for untold fortunes shall undoubtedly pass beneath the beaks of every one of us that lives, and for them’s with fates to die here – you have already earned your pensions paid in full for taking this voyage. If your kins and heirs will be paid handsome for your sacrifice. Remember this and do not break. No horror or unknown eclipses the facts we know – Our masters are just, our purses fat, and the might of the Old World comes with us to learn upon the natives – do not disappoint with less than a full measure of all that stands behind us. We brothers, are emissaries in the ways of kicking ass, hauling goods and smiling into the bleeding darkness -- and we shall do it well.


Lucius Vorenus looked down on his soldiers from the deck above, the moon behind him casting him in silhouette, his shadow cast over the men working beneath him. Standing in a perimeter around him, four massive bodyguards stood by – the Muurdaan house elite. The descendants of slaughtered kings and others who opposed the eternal empire, now their only realm, their only birthright, was to protect their charge, to protect Lucius. Lucius could almost forget they were there were they not so massive, just as he could almost forget about danger in their presence if that too were not massive in this endeavor. He turned on his heel from his troops who seemed full and ready to make beach-head and take ground no matter condition, and instead took his spyglass to monitor them as they did so.


It was a couple of hours past dusk, but it was a moon-lit night and land was here. Somewhere in the darkness were the rest of the factions, but as with everything else there was first the case to carve out for his own.


The Ship barreled towards the small island, no sign of reef, sandbar, or even perceptible shallows to be wary of. The craft dropped anchor while still at speed and it fell to unsuspected depth before the ship strained on its chains and came to a rest in deep water right against the beach. The gang-plank when down and the full regiment stormed onto the new land – fanning out and placing long-torches in their staging area. Even in the dark, every man could see it was but a short run from the beach to a ring of vegetation and scattered palms, and beyond that the only high ground on the island. The regiment broke into three squads, 10 running both east and west, with a spearhead of 15 heading straight inland. Shields slung to their backs, they held drawn weapons and torches high.


As the largest group hit the greenery scores of ground-nesting birds screeched and rose in alarm, flying skyward and circling until the noise and action would subside. The main force stomped through a patch of some type of squishy melons and stopped short of high ground when it suddenly erupted with a violent geyser – the warm water, likely from volcanic or other thermal activity, filled the air with a humidity and a stark contract to the cold waters off the beach. From this position, the Paymaster could survey the other two forces, despite their armor, were moving at a double-time march the full circumference of the island… When he could observe by flash of blade and torchlight they have slowed to a cautious approach as they drew to the area on the far side of the island from each direction. To support any potential hostile action, the main force sought to encircle between the two wings forcing whatever foe that might stand against them into the sea…


…Which is seemingly exactly where their would-be adversaries went. The other squads both reported seeing an assembly, two dozen or more folks cavorting about until they were startled by the screeching of the birds – and upon seeing the torches closing in, they all seemed to flee into the water. But there was nobody to be seen treading or swimming – just the water, and far beyond that the massive wall of cliffs that made up the mainland.


In light of this it was possible for the men to think the whole thing was the trick of sea-mammals or the night playing tricks on stir-crazy folks cooped up at sea… if not for the other effects they found on the beach.


Bowls made of clamshells lay here and there spilled, an oderous and inky brew clinging to them. A coral staff with various shell adornments, and a shield and knife made of similar material hastily dropped in the press to flee. Perhaps most ominous of all was that all of these effects were scattered at the foot of three strange cairns or idols – unworked stones from perhaps the beach, or perhaps the ocean, they looked recently erected and ominous. One of the statues had garlands of weeds and decidedly pointy ears. One of the statues was made of much larger stones, and had two long rocks precariously perched on it’s “head”, the third was more non-descript.. of a man that perhaps had a beard… or an axe? In the moonlight it was hard to tell. Stranger still beside these rough “monuments” was a pile of loose stones and debris about what was obviously a work in progress… one with fan-coral for shoulders and a large Conch shell that sat in a crude parody of a naval-man’s hat… if it were cobbled together by people who had never seen one. A full report would be made to the Admiral.


Vigilant watches were posted and it was resolved that all hands stay with the ship until dawn to take and hold the territory by light of day. The island was only a mile wide if that from end to end, and narrower than that going across. Lucius noted that there were fragrant and exotic fruits on this island, Most notably a kind of pulpy jungle melon the likes of which he had never seen before, and a few strains of far more familiar temperate-clime berries the seeds of which must have been carried by bird or wind. Likewise in the brush were the fairly large and seldom protected eggs of the birds of paradise. There was food here, and a good bit of it – which was fortunate for not so much remained in their larder. The birds themselves might be appetizing, if they cared to try and catch them…


The geyser seemed to erupt with a regimented frequency, though not with the sudden-ness or force from when Lucien’s mercenaries first landed. Quite a blast, that one – by comparison.


Scouting from the beach, it was from here the Admiral and his agents began to see by spyglass and hear on the wind the activity of men on the mainland beach nearby. This island might make an excellent naval base, Lucien thought – though there was the fact that it’s ground might be sacred to some water-dwellers yet unmet. His bodyguards did not speak, but he could feel their contempt. To them any foes that would drop their weapons and flee were hardly suitable to be called foes. Having his bearings he could survey that many of his more academically minded followers wandered about the island marveling at the strangeness of it, with the Mercenaries dispersed to watch them all. The sand felt new under his boots, a veteran of many shores – this sand was somehow novel to him – and the geyser seemed to nourish the plants of the island with its constant warm rains… occasionally ejecting solid materials with the water.


(Resources: Exotic Birds, Eggs, Tropical Melons, Berries)


Food Level: Stable


WEALTH: Lucien’s faction arrives with 4 wealth total. 2 from sponsor and one personal coffers, and one last point in Imperial scrip – credit with the only world that has no value in the new except by those that might recognize it.


@General Deth Glitch : Your men too, see the arrival of the new ship by high light after dawn -- and may plan or act accordingly.

 

[Beckoncall]

@SpiralErrant


“Orm holds a meeting with the 3 shamans and tells them about what he saw at Skyhill. He's hoping to get their thoughts on the matter and consult Ummush's iron plates on it.”


Orm calling a counsel of shamans was not to go unnoticed in his camp – while many thought such a happening was to be expected in this uncertain time, shaman counsels had ritual significance to the whole caravan… for the voices of the ancestors were seldom closer, it was believed. The Female Tyren gathered in an almost full circle to reflect the current phase of the moon and discussed issues of family, business, and fertility. The Warriors gave loud ululating brays to the moon, to catch and hold the ears of Tyren past. The rest of the menfolk took this time as a sort of holiday, though they were expected to put aside conflict and be hospitable as they did…. All that went on outside was barely perceptible to orm.


The Walls of the “Rite-Wagon” were strong and thick, and Bruul loudly beat the “Hrull-Bodhran”, the ceremonial heart of the departed ancestors. Much of what took place in this wagon was secret even to Orm, solely the domain of shamans – As a yearling he heard tales that the head-skin of the Hrull-Bodhran was the tanned skin of evil wizards the high shaman had slain, or the skin of the most recently passed high shaman himself… To Orm it looked like a goat skin drum, nothing more. His tail swished behind him as Shul performed some kind of dance or drama in a circle around them. Bruul sad on the edge of a circle inside of that, and Orm on a fur-covered dias a short distance closer than that. The smallest circle was in the middle, and for now empty. The wagon seemed barely large enough for the rite, Shul had to move carefully to avoid bumping into the seated Tyren, and at times actively placed a hand on them for balance. From behind a black and tattered curtain at the farthest end of the wagon, Uumush emerged – not with the book of plates as Orm normally saw it, here he saw only 9 plates, hung in lines of three from over the shoulder of the high shaman.


“I have selected memories I think the ancestors wish us to see, and some I must confer on myself. Orm suddenly felt far away – the sound of Shul’s dance being the main thing convincing him he had not nodded off. In a moment of lucidity, he sees his experience at Skyhill reflected in the eyes of Uumush – Shul is reading his spirit, as it yet lives but as if he were a ghost.


“Stillness Orm… in the presence of the ancestors it is we who become insubstantial” – he’s sitting in the center now, gazing into Orms eyes. Orm sees the events again as Uumush sees them, then as the vision fades he sees something far more familiar – the cold eye of a Tyren steadfast in pain. On the battle-field, you revel in your wounds or you ignore them. Uumush was ignoring MUCH, Orm could tell. Is he always in so much pain, Orm wondered? Or is this just a particularly taxing rite so far from the lands of our kin?


“You ask what we make of this, Great Chief – first the obvious. They are defenders. The vision states clearly these things will not move from the area, even as they slowly wear away into nothing. The ancestors whisper of two runes here, that represent the defenders of that which is hidden – Protectors, and Silencers. These things, or what made them, feels it is their right or responsibility to keep people away, but want folk to know and to tell others that this place is barred from them, you were not what they are there to protect from, so they did not attack. What is more interesting… (Ummush runs his giant fingers over the tiny runes as if reading braile) …is that the sentry seemed to recognize you. It studied your Frame, Orm -- and seemed to recognize it. The farthest voices of the ancestors bid us take notice of this, I strained to hear them… and I think I see that too. I also may see in your eye what you might think this could mean, Chieftain… tread lightly here, for to show ignorance or false legend at the ear of the ancestors can bring great sorrow, not only to us – but the ancestors themselves.


Bruul mutters loudly, and as if far away “We tend the fields of our own afterlife. Embody shepherd, or our young will walk the world as sheep. In life we see little but can do all, and in the next we see all but can do little. Share your eye as we would give you our hands.”


Uumush continues: “Something horrible happened here, like the vanishing of the animals here – but on a much larger scale. These things are protecting a piece of this puzzle. We do not need this piece yet, but if we seek to master this land and not share the fate of its ghosts we may be fated to visit that place again. I am shown runes talking of a hornless one always screened by guardians… he refused the Tyren to set foot on his land, but he kept the passes clear in winter so we would have freedom to walk through. One year the hornless one’s guards fell to some evil… and to keep the passes open the Tyren took up the burden of his defense. This says to me, that if those that guard this place fall, it may become our burden to protect."


Uumush’s hands slowed down their gesticulations over and on the plates. “If you have questions, I will dare to ask the ancestors for you. We are far from the lands of any kin we know, but all shamans are in agreement – this land very close to divine realm… scarred by it, I say…”


Bruul continues to beat the Hrull-Bodhran, but goes to interrupt Ummush, sheepishly – Bruul has given almost everything in the name of supporting the high shaman, and Orm had seen that… bur Orm had never learned that Bruul had given Ummush his fear… more secrets Orm could not understand. He could see in the boundaries of his vision that Shul was crawling on the floor now, throwing shattered bits of colored glass like dice… divining fortunes for others of the tribe no doubt. Ummush holds his thought, and you know in his mind he is leering at his apprentice, as Bruul may one day wear his mantle.


Bruul continues “You are running out of words, Uumush – save the rest for the chieftain, and if he will not have them, the elders of the caravan.” Uumush nods.


Bruul speaks to Orm as Ummush slips deeper into his trances. “The Herd-Heart does not beat faster with regard to the clockworks… we likely will not have fight with them unless we make it. The beat is not relaxed however, suggesting there is likely danger nearby. Without trade, our way of life may change dramatically – we may do well to set up a market and bid others to do the same. The heart is fed by many bloods, Chieftain – the first of these is Herd, but the second is Trade.”


Shul crawled directly behind Orm and Orm’s tail swatted at him reflexively. He was spitting pieces of polished glass onto the floor as he went, and stuffing them in his pockets. He looked ridiculous. The drum continued… and Orm could tell that Uumush was in the deepest of trances. His eyes were wholly black, and his breathing was almost entirely undetectable. Bruul kept drumming.


“This is the time you ask questions and leave, Chieftain, then bid the elders to come inside in turn. With luck, maybe answers in the morning. Maybe. Orm gazed at the black pits of Uumush’s eyes and nostrils the shamans snout almost rigid in the weird floating light of the wagon…

 

[Elucid]

Vorenus admittedly was quite impressed by the organisation and discipline shown by the "Faith of the Rich" something which he was not expecting from a mercenary company , although there was the matter of having paid them a hefty amount , so he supposed he got his moneys worth.


It was a strange place this island filled with wonders the likes of which he had never seen before but something didn't feel right , this place gave off an eerie presence as if someone , something was always watching them.


Seeing Visibility drop and having heard rumors of strange natives on the Island Vorenus ordered his men to return to the ship until dawn to take and hold the territory by light of day. the island although would serve their initial needs was not nearly large enough to house their main settlement. Although Vorenus noted that it would make an excellent Naval base. Vorenus also dispatched a message to the paymaster asking to meet him in his quarters on the ship in earnest.


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


Admirals Quarters


{Ah, the "Paymaster" arrives , I have been waiting for you . So tell me what news do you bring}


[Well, I don't know how to put this sir but , some of my men have reported having seen these strange.....creatures , a group of about a dozen or so were said to have been seen fleeing into the water but there was no sign of them treading or swimming.]


[Furthermore sir, we have been able to find these "monuments" or idols in the inner parts of the island , now weather these hold some kind of spiritual importance to these people I cannot say but what I am most certainly sure about is that we are not alone.]


After the severity of what the captain had said settled in the Admiral spoke having had some time to think.


{I seems to me that the only rational thing to do now would be to try and communicate with these .....natives and I don't think that I am the only one who would like to know more about these people before we converse with them , so I would like you to send a contingent of men along with some archaeologists in order to study and learn about these people . oh and also send the healer along with them just in case these are considered to be sacred grounds.}


{Also I would like to send 2 foraging parties into the island guarded by some men off course , in light of recent events . One will be headed by the Horticulturist whose secondary objective would be to find a suitable place to grow crops and the other will be headed by the tanner who will search for and try and capture these exotic animals I keep hearing about.}


{I personally will be heading a scouting party}


{That will be all thank you, you are dismissed . Tell everyone to get some rest its going to be a long day tomorrow }


{Oh , I'm sorry I almost forgot , tell my nephew that he'll be braking bread with the other colonials on the nearby beach , you will be accompanying him with a contingent of men also bring the shipwright with you just in case he can acquire any materials he needs to build a new ship.}


ACTIONS:


-Send 2 foraging parties into the island headed by the tanner and the Horticulturist. constituting of 5 skilled workers , 5 mercenaries , 5 thralls each


-Send 5 mercenaries along with the Archaeologists to study these idols/monuments , also accompanying is the Healer.


-Personally head a scouting party mapping out the area.


-Send Nephew (Adventurer) to break bread with the other colonials , also accompanying is the paymaster and the Shipwright.


(this is after emptying the essential contents of the ship to be done by thralls)

 

[SpiralErrant]

Orm's head was swimming through most of this. Between the strange beats of music, the distant sound of everyone outside... and add to it all that smoke, the damn smoke. He hated coming to them like this. There was trust between the four of them, sure, Orm didn't fear for his safety around the moon-touched bulls. He just hated the haze that came over him when this happened. Like he couldn't trust his legs to hold him up when he moved while the world blurred around him. This was why Orm didn't drink, he'd keep his mind his own by whatever means. At least here he still had others he could trust putting it in the care of. Although it didn't make handling all the information they were sending at him any easier.


It was a lot to take in. He'd already pondered that the clockwork things would stay on their guarding grounds but the idea that they might hold a key to finding out what happened here peaked his interest. Add to that the knowledge that there could have been other Tyren here before them! They warned him not to get his hopes up, not to read too much into things. There were countless stories of chiefs misreading the omens of the ancestors and leading their folk to ruin. But Orm couldn't help himself... the legend of the birthing lands was being dangled in front of him like a carrot on string.


Orm sat in silence for a while, gathering his thoughts and muttering under his breath as he did so. Until he came up with a question he thought wise. He'd ask only one, to pester the spirits was to invite trouble. "The way you tell it... sounds like they know who this secret one who kept the paths clear and hides behind their metal guard... if they know them, their tale or how they know of our folk... I'd ask them to share that with me."


And then Orm left, as he was instructed to do. Without a word he stepped from the wagon and out into the night air, the sounds of the gathered caravan were a blur to him. People may have called out to him, he thought, but he didn't have the strength to turn and face them. They may not have known what went on between the four but they could tell it was a heavy thing. So Orm went on and found the tent he claimed as his own. It was a small thing by chief standards but that was how he liked it when he slept. He threw the woolen blankets over himself as the weight pulling on his eyes was brought to bare. Sleep took him quickly as the endless trials of the past few days promised to wait until morning.

 

[Beckoncall]

@SpiralErrant


Bruul entered orm's wagon, utterly exhausted... long after the festivities of the clan snuffed out, the shaman counsel conducted both their secret business and tended the spiritual ministration and queries left by the caravan. Bruul seemed to be leaning on a huge cleaver as if it were a crutch. When Tyren committed to an act, it was with full investment like a maddened charge. If the Tyren was not panting from their undertaking it was likely they had not been long at it. Still, Orm had seen the strongest of his clan so exerted with far greater frequency since the voyage began than in weeks or months on the roads before. The new normal for their way of life might already be changing. He heard his people talking of this too -- "Before we are the grass but it seems today we are the wind that blows it!" ... Orm just knew there was work ahead as far as any road he'd dreamed of... he would rise to meet it.


Your question, Chieftain: "In the plates the protector figure was a noble that saw to the maintaining of a wall for most of the year, and the facilitation of trade and transport during the winter... The ancestors say the story of this place is similar. The Tyren in the story were recognized as partner to an organization of traders, and so had right and recognition. The spirits do not know who the secret lord of the spire is, or what it is -- but it's relationship to us may be the same. It saw us as not a threat for some other relationship to it, perhaps that we somehow resemble. But the spirits also chose the story we think, because like the Tyren taking up the guard of the hermit hornless chief, if these clockworks fall perhaps it must fall to us to become guardians of the tower. Make of that what you will, but the threads between this story and our situation... close and ken."


Aside the matters of the moon, no word on the selling of that ship to the hornless, we've let you sleep in. The walls around the crops are complete, and as you know there is plenty stone to spare. The herdsmen want to take some to make a secure paddock for the herds -- our beasts shall surely roam wide in the manner of custom... but the Herdsmen are thinking a place to hold them if thieves or other threats present themselves. There has seldom been a winter in the old world that men did not come to poach the herds out of desperation... even in the absence of natives, the men may grow so hungry in the future -- even if just a few the are dumb or enterprising... and with the hornless these traits are often enough linked.


... And one more thing, one of high herdsmen says sheep and goats are nervous when watered at the river at night. Warriors stand around and watch, see nothing... but Minax says herd rattled. Maybe loud water, maybe not. Maybe not, Chieftain.


Bruul drew a deep breath as if to punctuate his statement, and chambered a punch. He pulled the curtain closed on the wagon, and the day dared Orm again to leave it for slumber...

 

[Beckoncall]

@The Elusive Shadow


By day, Voranus walked about the island that he would claim his own… in the high-day light he could see the island was almost aligned with a massive waterfall that roared from the mainland cliffs beyond… when the wind blew right, a cool mist blew from the waterfall, further irrigating the island and giving clearer understanding for the strange fertility here. In the old world this would perhaps be a resort. He had higher ideas for it.


In the days that followed, his followers exerted his will. The Tamer, made short work with his workers of mapping the nesting areas of the birds, and laying snares in them for when the birds would return. For as much as The company would care to, they could gather the eggs for food, and from a distance unalarming to the birds, activate the snares to catch them as well. The most resplendent of them were placed in gilded cages and brought aboard the ship, some of the more affluent on the voyage had already taken to them.


NOTE: Birds of Paradise are worth ONE LUXURY POINT – Luxury points will matter more later as the game progresses.


The Birds can both be roasted, and their eggs taken as meals. These resources can be utilized by your faction for food (or a number of people of approximate size) without straining supply. To push beyond this level could feed many more, but would not be sustainable after a few years at most. Some folk advocate grabbing all the birds and shipping them back to the Old world as exotic treasures – that they may be too valuable as an export to simply eat.


The Horticulturalist and his foraging parties catalogued the largest concentrations of edible crop, though the given manpower was far from sufficient to exploit it. Five workers to pick an island of melons? How long would it take?! That said, they had gathered a fair store of familiar berries and several barrels of the exotic melons, and until told otherwise would continue to gather more. What further, Lucius’ Preserver had sought to keep the exotic fruit in sealant salt-wax and sovereign glues… it was thought that by controlling climate of the barrels (cooled in seawater) and kept hermetically sealed, the melons could keep for a considerable time, and if resources would be expended – The preserver might be able to see to it that such melons could arrive fresh enough to sell (or at least plant) should they be sent to the old world. The melons as a resources was hearty – the vines even if picked clean would bear fruit again, and depending on the weather of the island, could conceivably grow year round (at least in proximity to the hot spring geyser at center isle.


The thralls unpacked the majority of the cargo on the shore of the island, and moved it under tarps strung between palm trees of the sand a bit inland, to protect from waves and as best as they could the ever-present moisture. The paymaster and his Adventurer Nephew would make contact with some colonials almost immediately… in particular the “Exiles” as it seemed they were loosely called, at least for now. Upon his arrival he could also see a small group of Hulking Minotaurs, apparently futilely attempting to get some settlers on the beach to summon their leader for some kind of business proposition. The paymaster could tell they were attempting to use pictographic “trade-talk” – an easily grasped shorthand for commerce, often between traders that shared no common language… it looked somewhat like a game of charades, but written in the dirt, and on paper. The paymaster did not know much, but to while away time during the voyage he had learned some second-hand from the Castellan, who was attempting to learn means of communication that might be accessible to indigenous folk in the lost realm. It seemed the sloop off the beach belonged to the Minotaurs, and the Minotaurs were trying to sell it to the humans! The Beastmen were convinced that the humans they were dealing with preferred to live in “Sea Wagons” – he conveyed this information to Lucius’ Nephew, who would surely share this intelligence with his Uncle. The shipwright noted there was at least one wreck on the shore – maybe such ships could be reconditioned back into service. He would need a detail of skilled workers to assess the potential, and the damage, however.


The Archeologists were almost giddy with excitement that there was already artifacts and evidence of culture to study from their first step off the boat. For the next few days they would come to numerous findings and conclusions… First, this island was relatively well trafficked by the sea-people – evidence of tools and gatherings could be found all over the island if one knew where to look, not just on the beach where the idols were found. It would be reported that if Lucius did indeed intend to settle here, he should be prepared to disabuse its former occupants of their ownership – at point of sword. This place was of religious significance, and interlopers would likely not be welcome. The next time the sea-people will be met, it will likely be on their terms, and aggressively. Technologically they seemed for the most part a very primitive culture – while they threaten to bore Lucius to death with explanations for why this might be, they go on to mention that some of the relics dropped at the idol site are of much higher sophistication. A curved coral blade with an edge made of honed volcanic glass, a fibrous staff inlaid with red and black pearls… they were items worth keeping as curiosities, but suggest a higher tier or priest class of this culture which might be more formidable than a likely more primitive majority. The Agnostic Healer confirms that this is a place of holy significance, and with appropriate resources (and payment) can tap into its conduit of (un)holy energy. Healing magic could be drawn from this place… and were Lucius to be willing to make a sacrifice (of birds or thralls perhaps?) it might be a way of cementing alliance with the god or gods of this place. Even if they did not however, He was confident his spells would work anywhere near this island, even well inland – if an altar could be prepared and maintained here.


Lastly, the archeologists found that where there were symbols or signs of craft on the idols or other discarded effects, the craftsmanship was oddly identical, even for the few pieces they uncovered that were much older than the rest. While not so evident on the more common items (where it seemed uniformity was something strived for, on more sophisticated or permanent installations (idols, the occasional graven obelisk) it seemed most intentionally and convincingly created by the same hand… most curious.


Lucius Vorenus himself had little more to scout after the footfalls of his soldiers and agents, for so much ground was covered. Though he did make one disturbing discovery… a patch near the geyser, not a pit per se but an area traditionally dug out of the sand and slightly hidden by the encroachment of the plants growing over the area… within this ditch of sorts lay dozens of broken idols, the fragments smeared with red dye-pigment of mysterious origin, as well as scattered with and laying in a great assortment of red coral and stones. If Vorenus hadn’t already guessed it, his archeologists would tell him – this is a place where old idols are taken and ritually “killed” when they are broken and reddened. The idols at this site might be old enough to coincide with the previous attempts to colonize the continent in prior centuries… and if that is true, it can be assumed that the “new” idols represent the new colonists – and what is likely planned for them…

 

[SpiralErrant]

"... And one more thing, one of high herdsmen says sheep and goats are nervous when watered at the river at night. Warriors stand around and watch, see nothing... but Minax says herd rattled. Maybe loud water, maybe not. Maybe not, Chieftain."





"Don't just say maaaybe like that!" Orm whined, propping himself up on his elbows. "You say it like that and I'm going to think it's something more sinister than rushing water!"


Bruul gave a shrugged and shouldered his way out into the light of day. Orm couldn't help but wonder what he'd been up to so early to get so tired. Probably magical stuff that he couldn't possibly fathom. Or he was storing up too many of those 'charges' of his, these days it seemed like Bruul was using that odd form of rapid meditation as a form of stress relief. Orm couldn't say he approved, seeing how it had effected the shaman so heavily back on the boat but he wouldn't stop Bruul from doing it either. If a fight did break out he knew they'd all be thankful for every punch Bruul could throw. So it was that with a lot of grumbling and shuffling Orm managed to untangle himself from his blankets and went out to do the business of the day.


His first stop took him down to the river near the crashing falls.


"You'll have all the stone you need to make the paddocks." Orm assured the oldest herders. "You lot know the business of your herds best." He'd been told it only took a few hands a short time to gather up all they had and there was still pelnty left out in the fields if they needed it. This was a good temporary step, maybe they could start adding things like barns later. wouldn't that be something?


"What about the nerves that have been getting on 'em lately, Chief. It 'aint good for their health I tell you. Gunna give us tough meet and still borns come the right season. Plus sometimes they look like somethin's spooking 'em proper."


"Probably just the noise, like you say. At worst maybe they smell something nasty across the river. Tell you what, build the walls closer to your wagons and tents, put some of the hill between them and the river at night, that should help them."


That wasn't anything unusual. The herders would often keep their charges close at night during winter or in lands they knew to be more dangerous. Orm talked the idea over with the elder herder who lent some of their expertise until they came to a plan for sorting it out. The paddocks would be built close to the camp with the herders setting up their tents and wagons close by, since they wouldn't be parted from their living easily. This would give the animals some space from the rushing water and some peace at night as they stayed in their enclosure until sunrise. If they needed watering then it was a simple matter of finding the means to make a trough for it until they could graze and roam during the day. Nothing too unusual.


What Orm didn't bring up was that it could distance them from predators as well. Everyone was thinking it, wolves and other hunters following the herds was nothing new, so most felt it went without saying. But some looked at the water uncertainly and Bruul's words still followed him. They'd already faced a demon of the deep getting here and most of the camp had heard stories about the clawed beasties that had infested the elf ship. It had been made clear to Orm that this land was home to predators they'd never dreamed of before and that was just from the sea. Who knew what dwelled in the water or the woods.


With the plan for the animals in motion, Orm set a few warriors to scouting out the river. They'd been living by it long enough that he should have done it already. besides, the elves seemed to like it for fishing, maybe they could find something of their own to claim from it too. In the mean time Orm set off for the cliffs, he had another long walk ahead, this time with the smiths in tow. They'd told him that stone might have been good for mining but that the starting of such a venture could have been too much for them. Orm had a good feeling that with the glowing gem on his side, he might be able to fix that.


Actions:


- Give the herdsmen the stone they need to make paddocks for their animals near the camp and on the furthest side of the hill from the river. 30 Unskilled workers given over (20 herdsmen to mind and herd the animals. 10 regular/unspecialised unskilled) 4 skilled workers lead the effort. (2 eldest herders and 2 unspesialised skilled workers)


-Some warriors are sent to scout out the river in detail (3 including Rahg Cold-Iron) and 1 unspecialised skilled worker)


-Orm, along with 2 smiths (skilled) and their apprentices (2 unskilled) and 2 warriors go to the Shear cliffs to scout them out further and look into the possibility of mining and gathering materials.

 

[Beckoncall]

@SpiralErrant


The herdsmen set out to do as allowed and instructed. The stone paddock would go up swiftly, with the proper supervision and some of the tool and material supplies provided for their voyage. It would be a matter of a few days before the structure was not only done, but tested, with a strong mid-height wall to keep the animals in, a fence-gate, and a quarter of the area with a crude thatch overhang so there was additional protection from the elements and berthing. The herds would be far less vulnerable -- especially with several herdsmen's wagons moving into the vicinity of the paddock.


Rahg and his detail scouted the full length of the river -- midway to the cliffs an old and dilapidated stone dock stretched a third of the width of the river. There were signs of larger structures and perhaps even riverboats, but they were all so sorely overgrown with river-plants that it was hard to tell what were sticks and trees fallen in the river and what was debris. The stone foundation of the dock was sound however -- if they cared or had any talent to make a riverboat, they could be moored and landed here easily. Further down the river, closer to the cliffs, and well into the shadow of the great redwoods, the minotaurs found a kind of log-jam... a bunch of trees (or perhaps one great tree?) that had fallen across some high ground on either bank, forming a kind of bridge that blocked some of the current in the spring rapids, but was likely high above the river in other season. The wood "bridge" seemed strange to the Tyren, but they could not put their fingers on just why.


On their way back, as they passed the dock coming in the other direction -- they spotted a small group of hornless ones on the far side of the river. They wore bark and wicker costumes that might pass for camouflage or light protection in the wood. They could not tell what type of hornless they were -- it was hard enough to tell them apart normally, but these hornless were covered in greyish mud (Rahg thought perhaps for concealment of scent?) and they wore wooden masks... with skeletal hands woven over them, as if they were "peeking" through a bony hand. There are six of them on the far bank... and while Rahg couldn't be certain, He believes one of them might be a sentry, taking the others to the point he saw something to report -- Saw them, likely.


The Muddy hornless were caught flat-footed on the far side of the river, they are clearly quite alarmed to see Rahg and his men... there is an awkward silence that seems to go on forever, Rahg would have to act, or react, to this situation...


Elsewhere, at Shearcliffs, Orm and his smiths and retinue assayed the rock for potential deposits. It was painstaking and laborious, and required a fair bit of climbing and scanning about. While they could not be certain they found everything that the rocks might hold, they signs of possible iron in two separate places. The quality or quantity could not be guessed at, from cursory examination -- but they knew enough that some ore was present in the rock. Far more promising was a spot closer to the top of the cliffs that have a visible vein of silver exposed from the rock -- when the hills tore, the silver deposit was laid almost bare to the surface, though dirt and foliage had done their part to hide it. It was likely that there was some amount of silver right under their feet at the foot of the shearcliffs -- and if they were willing to build scaffolds (or use magic) to extract it, it could be pulled in greater quantities from the the high cliffs as well... at least it seemed so. This was a find -- The smiths could barely believe their luck.

 

[Beckoncall]

@General Deth Glitch:


Work continues at the silo site in the absence of additional orders from above. Additional digging at the compacted sand in the center drainage grille saw that parts of the grating could be broken away. After that, with some of the larger exiles taking whacks at it with picks discovered in one of the crates, they made a crack in the barrier, causing sand to slip and creating a fissure broad enough for men to get through. They stopped immediately at this point to get further counsel on how to proceed... it seems the fissure lead to YET ANOTHER smooth-brick chamber below... but there was little light to say they saw much more than that. It's cold down there, the witnesses said... and they some of them swear they hear water. If there is a water supply down there, it could prove very useful... although some workers have already begun to haul water from the river... they've been spooked doing so -- it's said that one of the great redwoods is cursed, and that bones are strewn all about it. The exiles would prefer not to have to pass through that area to fetch their water... until at least the area can be deemed safe by men of action.


Besides that, some enterprising workers have begun to setup some rather crude wooden houses on the foundations in the depression. Even though such tasks have been spontaneous, clandestine efforts (without the most skilled guidance) the stone foundations make the wooden structures sufficiently structurally sound, and may also do a better job of maintaining heat in winter than they otherwise might. Without more rigid controls, Exiles are starting to grab supplies from the cargo hold and just make shelters.


There has also been some shark-fishing among some of the more brave unskilled workers -- using skiffs from the now-beached merchantman... if the effort was better organized it might have greater success, but so far some sharks have been caught without mishap, and have as such broadened the diet of some of the exiles.


It is also worth noting that the exiles have made contact with a more aristocratic faction of humans, who say they have taken refuge on the semi-tropical island off the coast a minor distance from the beach. Initial parley did not go poorly -- though the exiles wonder what these dressy humans stand for, being such close neighbors....

 

[Beckoncall]

@Leusis


In the days that follow the tree singers continue to bolster the habitability and defenses of the Foothill wood. Where first there was just a central defensive camp, all three tree-stands have become more developed. Elves can survey from treetops and smaller bough-houses have begun to be formed.


Anfel suggests that if they were willing to explore the full powers of the gem, the tree singers might be able to enchant the woods further -- to increase it's potential for food production, or to attempt to hide their occupation, or perhaps even to locate, contact, or even bind any spirit they might find within the wood. She warns Belanor that if such pursuits are taken it may drain or at least require the full commitment of the power of the gem to sustain any prolonged effect... otherwise the longer they occupy the wood, the more the Tree-singers may accomplish on their own.


Belanor also hears word of the new faction arriving on the Paradise Isle... the exiles are not quiet or discrete, and it does not take much effort for a glade guardsmen to occasionally spy on them. Some kind of Aristocrats, Belanor is informed -- which may be bad news...

 

[SpiralErrant]

"What the crap are those?"


The call went up and each of the warriors went tense as their eyes locked with the strange twig men across the river. Rahg instinctively reached for his weapon and stepped forward towards the river edge as if he might just charge across the rapids. In a moment his flat topped sword was free of its holdings and hanging at his side. Tyren didn't hold their weapons high, traditionally. They were so used to fighting opponents shorter than themselves it was almost instinctive to their warriors to guard lower than most races. Their blades may have dragged but bull-iron wasn't renowned for being the keenest of metals and thanks to the sheer size of their weapons and the force behind each swing it didn't have to be to slice.


The two groups looked at each other, each one quietly baffled by the others' sudden appearance. Rahg couldn't see their faces behind the masks but he could bet they were gasping and talking just like him and his fellows.


"Go back to camp and tell the others about this." He said, turning to the working bull they'd brought along for a technical eye. He nodded and quickly turned tail to run back to camp and spread the word. The others were all wondering what they were or where they came from. Rahg was pretty sure they'd just found what had been spooking the herds.


His scars were itching and these hornless looked even punier than the usual kind. Just the three of them could probably smash through them with no problem. At least that was how it looked to Rahg's eyes. But however much you might have felt like it yu didn't charge in and risk the caravan without the chief's leave, not unless you were forced. And Rahg didn't want to go ahead being that warrior, not after the talk about being a bull of standing he'd gotten from Orm. As if he could with the rapids blocking his way anyway.


So he stood his ground and made some of the basic signs, clear for all to see, saying the words as he did. "Ours!" He motioned to the ground. "Stay there. No further!"


Rahg might not have been the most cultured of minotaurs but he at least knew more words than Orm. Most he'd learned from the threats of bandits and and angry farmers.


===================================


"So it's a good haul, right? We can work with this?" Orm panted. All that running around scouting and now they had him climbing cliffs and scrambling up and down like a goat. He was getting too old for this nonsense.


"Certainly is, Boss." The smiths seemed plenty pleased with all this. "Can't say how much we'll find low but that vein up above looks to give us plenty silver."


That'd be nice for all that trade they were in need of...


"We'd need to build rigs though. Walkways, some winches-"


Orm was already tired just thinking about it. He didn't even know this lot could make scaffolding but sounded like it'd take more time and hands than they had at this tender stage.


"We can cheat that maybe." Orm mused. This seemed as good a use of the gem's power as anything else. "Everyone get back." He ordered the rest.


Orm still wasn't sure if this thing would explode or not. He held it out in front of him, amber light beating to the presence of the stone. Held remembered the feeling from the field when he'd made the rock float. Orm focused on the silver glinting above them and thought only: 'Come to me.'