Realistic or Modern New Civilizations 1st Edition IC

[ShinGeorgeTownRaja]

Suns rise, suns set. The world turns, and the seasons change. But this is not the world you know. This is a world far younger, more full of potential - the world of New Civilizations.

The date is five thousand years Before the Common Era - 5000 BCE. Mankind is a savage thing, little given to civilization, only taking her first steps toward ideas of government, religion, culture, and many other things beside. And you, by the quirks of fate, by a straying thread in the tapestry of the ages, find yourself thrown backward to this strange and barbaric time.

It will be desperate. It will be brutal. Life is cheap, and the luxuries and even common humanity which you are accustomed to are nowhere to be found. But to be a man in such times, to be a woman, is to stand at the dawn of human civilization. Your actions, your choices, your will - these will echo down through the centuries. You stand as a stone in the river, about which the currents of history now eddy and swirl.

What future will you forge? What story will you write, Author? Speak now the tale of the New Civilizations.

Note: The start date is January. Timeskips are allowed at your own discretion and you can post at any time as long as time doesn't pass by so suddenly.​

 

[Mitheral]

Jonathan Rhand​

Pamukkale
Day 1
5000 BCE, January 01 (Not that the Gregorian calendar exists)
Temp, mean 36 F.

Jonathan Rhand awoke to the sound of a goat’s bleat and the jingle of a slightly distant cowbell. At least that’s what it sounded like. His nose also detected the odor of hot springs. His eyes opened to a sight that shocked him. First of all, he was with his clothes. When camping he usually slept in his underwear at least. Second he recognized where he was. He had been camping near Lake Allatoona in northwest Georgia. He now found himself half immersed in the thermal springs of Pamukkale, Turkey. He knew this because he had visited the site when he was 11 years old. It was one of those places you never forget - like Goreme, or the Grand Canyon, or Yosemite, or the Redwood Forest. Third was the fact that there was no resort. That is, the hotels were missing.

The goats were accompanied by people- Turkish shepherds. Those didn’t really strike him as unusual at first. When he had lived there he had known people who lived as they had in Ancient times - no electricity, central well, no plumbing, bread cooked in a central oven. To the west was Izmir and a place he went trout fishing a lot - Manavgat, or something like that. He used to play in the ruins built in caves along the cliffs a couple hundred feet up. The ruins had still been in use by shepherds and their flocks.

The second bleat followed a couple seconds later, forcing him to concentrate on the present. The sound of the bell came from a staff carried by a man of what Jonathan guessed was in his 20s. The bell was copper, to his ears an unmistakable and ordinary sound.

The third sound he heard scared the hell out of him. It was the panicked sounds of a young woman screaming for her father. (5000 BCE, 20th century. Such a sound was a good reason for any young man to panic.). There wasn’t much he could do about that that wouldn’t make things worse. All he could do was wait for the police. He sure as Hell wasn’t about to try to run away in his birthday suit. Nope, no way, not happening.

As sharp as his hearing was, her voice quickly dropped to a sub audible level when she got to the shepherd. He made it a point not to stand up. It soon turned out that the man wasn’t alone. He was traveling with his family - and what Jon guessed were a few other families. The women and children were herded away quickly and the men began to gather before approaching. But when they did, Jon finally spoke.

“I don’t suppose any of you have seen my clothes?”

******

What ensued was a conversation among the men about who Jon was. What surprised Jon was that he understood them - almost. The language he understood. But the content of the conversation was odd. They spoke about two beings, Tishtrya and Avesta. Tishtrya was apparently also a White Horse. Avesta was the opposite, black … and a demon.

“Uhm, I didn’t mean to offend. And I was being quite honest about my clothes. There isn’t any chance you could save me from being embarrassed any further? I’d be grateful.”

Jon had no clue just how dangerous the ground was that he now tread upon. The shepherd with the bell on his staff stepped forward. “What are you?”

What? The question was the wrong one. It should have been Who. Or maybe what are you doing here you American pig dog. But What? Jonathan sighed. “Just a man - one who is missing his clothing.”

“Why is your skin … ?”

“Pale? That is a simple question. I am from far away. Where I am from the sun doesn’t rise as high. It never gets as hot. So our skin is not as dark. Having skin that is already dark protects one from being burned by the sun. I do not sunburn easily. But in very harsh sun, such as in the high desert, I do get a little red. One of my ancestors had skin such as yours. My hair is straight and dark for the same reason - ancestors.”

“You … are a giant,” the man observed.

Jonathan looked down. “But a friendly one. Please don’t let my size bother you. And please relay my apologies for frightening the women. I didn't mean to startle them.”

The fact that he was able to converse in what had been a completely unknown language inexplicably bothered Jonathan. “If I may ask a question, what happened to the <hotel>?” He gestured to where the hotel should have been. Hotel didn’t really translate quite right though. “You have no idea what I am talking about.” He shook his head puzzled. “That’s alright.

“I should introduce myself.” Jonathan considered this for a moment. He had better keep it simple. “I am Jonathan Rhand.” All he got was a blank stare from all the men. His name was so foreign it sounded strange to them.

The shepherd looked back at the others. Jonathan was right. They had trouble understanding him. The man looked back. “I am Telip. We will call you Tartesh.”

Jonathan repeated the name. Simple. Easy to remember. He nodded. “Tartesh.” Well, it beats using a shortened version of his name in Turkish. Being called a Jon … not so funny.

*******

Telip was generous enough to find a sheet of flax cloth and a rope that would serve as a loincloth. It took him a moment to realize that he simply needed to fold it over the rope and wrap it around his waist. The rope served as a built in belt. One size fits all. It wasn’t much, but did allow for at least some modesty. To this they added a shepherd’s cloak, made of a heave weave of flax. Once dressed they saw him making faces as he tried to walk about and as an afterthought tried to come up with footwear. What they came up with was basically a wrapboot, though the soles were lacking in substance. Sandals hadn’t been invented yet. And Jon wasn’t much of a cobbler. If he was going to travel far he would probably need to learn the skill. There were so many things one took for granted.

Now that he was clothed he felt considerably safer. He turned his mind once more to his predicament. The mountains to the north were mostly snow covered. That meant that he was in the middle of the winter. The mean temperature near the thermal pools had been in the mid 40s. Soon they would fall to the low 40s, maybe even upper 30s. For him that was still what he called short sleeve weather. But at night he would have to worry about hypothermia unless they offered him furs. He was going to have to make himself useful.

He wasn’t sure if he was welcome to join them, so he asked. Telip agreed and explained that they were traveling to Ti-Sumurna. Jon’s heart started pounding as he thought he recognized the name of the place. He had, in fact. Ti-Sumurna was the ancient name of Smyrna, which would eventually become Izmir. He had visited the ruins of Smyrna in 1972. When he asked about Smyrna, Ti-Sumurna rolled off his tongue naturally. He concluded that it had to be the same place. To be sure he would need to experiment with language. Then he realized he wasn’t speaking Turkish either.

Ephesus was a major Greek port near Smyrna, founded in about 1650 BCE. These people weren’t wearing wool, despite having sheep. They had no writing. Not Sumerian. Hittite? Was Ti-Sumurna the Hittite version of Smyrna. (No, but a good guess.). This was impossible. All the evidence his senses could provide suggested that this was about 4000 BCE or earlier.

Telip was asking him if everything was okay. Jon nodded. “I am fine, much thanks to you. I shall have to find a way to thank you. Maybe when we get to the river west of here I can build a fish trap. Or maybe even a deer trap. I’m not sure if the latter is practical. We probably lack the right tools. And you may not have the time. And it may be too early in the season. But you may have the right bait.”

Telip just shook his head. It wasn’t really an answer. It seemed to imply that Jon wasn’t expected to repay anything. That surprised him. It couldn’t be easy to come up with the gifts. What he couldn’t know was why the cloak had belonged to - a man now dead.

Jon soon realized that his expectations of temperatures were a little off. Mid 30’s was more like it. Still not that bad, especially with the “new” clothing. Here and there were patches of snow and ice. Telip seemed to have gotten a little impatient. Dealing with Jon had wasted part of the morning. The reason for the hurry soon became apparent. The livestock needed to graze and the temperatures started to get warmer again. As the temperatures got warmer, the availability of grazing flora became more plentiful. They were descending into a valley. To the north of the valley was a ridge of mountains. Somewhere in those mountains would be the site of Monavgat. It probably didn’t exist yet, at least not as a large permanent site. But he would bet just about anything the caves that were used as goat pens that he used to explore were there even now being used by shepherds coming from the north.

Toward the end of the day they arrived at the river Meander. It was probably the only river Jon knew - other than the biblical ones. The Meander wasn’t a big river. It was a trout stream. Jon asked if there was anything he could do to help with setting up camp. Telip took him up on the help while his brother, son and nephews handled the animals. The women got to work making dinner. As soon as the setup was complete or Jon started to get more in the way than helping, Jonathan went down to the river. He spent about 30 minutes hunting for rocks with which to make himself a stone axe - well two axes. Once he found what he was looking for he set to work grinding. It wasn’t the work he hated. It was the boredom.

To be continued …

 

[ShinGeorgeTownRaja]

​

Act 1
Eddy "Ed" Pak
Location: Zalantun, Inner Mongolia, China
Mood: Confused
Outfit: None
Date: January, 5000 BCE

In the cold, dry steppe of what is now Inner Mongolia, China, Ed woke up with a minor migraine, slowly standing up in the process. He soon felt his body freezing as he tried rubbing and covering his body to generate warmth. However, he immediately realized that something was a bit off. He glanced at his body again and discovered that he was completely naked as well as his clothes and belongings not being present, leaving him in shock but not too shocking to him.

Despite him being in a very awkward situation, it also left him completely stranded and cut off from the city and his family. Perhaps, while he was sleeping, some triad gangsters broke into his apartment and kidnapped him only for his clothes and belongings to be gone in return for profit? Maybe not. After all, it was just Ed's silly imagination and nothing would've been worse than that.

"Where the hell am I? What is this place?" Ed quietly asked to himself, scratching his head in awe.

"Halt! There's an enemy nearby! Capture him immediately!" screamed a deep manly voice in which Ed heard it perfectly.

Ed turned around from behind, in front of him was a group of nomadic horsemen (as they were riding on horses, obviously) who seemed to resemble people from the Neolithic period because they didn't seem to come from Genghis Khan's era.

"Uh, hello? Were you the ones who kidnapped me and brought me to this very place? If so, I definitely want some answers."

"What!? What in Tengri's name are you talking about? How dare you disrespect our clan like that! Of course not! You're trespassing the territory of the Batbayar clan and you're acting like a lunatic with no clothes on! As a crime, you will be captured as a prisoner until further notice!"

Ed didn't know what was happening as it happened so quickly to him. In fact, it was as if he was actually living in a foreign country. Unless he thought of a way to run away from the aggressive horde, he couldn't as he might be killed. Speaking of which, he saw the horsemen armed with Neolithic-esque weapons (that was, stones) as they would obviously be armed with iron and steel ones. Not to mention, they were also wearing clothes that resembled the Neolithic period.

"I mean, if you want to capture me because I committed a crime, then go ahead. I don't care much, because my life has always been awful, anyway," Ed said without much care as he kneeled down and extended his arms to allow the horsemen to arrest him.

With the horsemen shrugging their shoulders in confusion, they approached Ed and later wrapped his hands with ropes, attaching it to one of the horsemen's grasp.

"Off to Batbayar Village!"

"By the way, how long am I a prisoner?"

"Be quiet! You'll see once we get to the village!"

And from that point, Ed's adventures in the Neolithic period were yet to come and his rise of power to a domain of his own was yet to be seen...

 

[Rysesaka]

Jesiah Adams Norton
Chapter 1, Episode 1: A New World Awaits

​

Ore Mountains, Central Europe (Czech-German border)

What a hangover. Jesiah’s head aches so bad to the point that he’s going to vomit. A bender for sure. Friday nights always got to Jesiah, whether he wanted them to or not- a few hours since lunch, and finally hitting the weekend. What better way to celebrate than a little bit of the social elixir to help the good times roll? Jesiah was looking up, at, hmm. The sky, yes. A little bit past dawn or before dusk, by the light. Wisps of white cloud scudded high above, probably cirrostratus. Nothing to be concerned about. Jesiah’s mouth tasted like the sour of sick, but that was to be expected. A pounding headache, a tender stomach beginning to ache with the first pangs of morning hunger; yep, another night out on the town gone wrong. He checked his faculties as he lay there looking up at the pale blue sky. Fingers, hands, still had them all. Lungs were functioning as normal, not choked or ragged, so Jesiah hadn't done that vodka-breathing trick again. Everyone loved it except for his respiratory medico, but party tricks would be party tricks. Dirt under his hands clenched the nails slightly, covered by what felt like long grass with the occasional stone. Ah, and no clothes. That was a bit of a bother. And worst case scenario, it was cold - with unusually large amounts of snow.

“What the hell..” Jesiah shivers as he lifts himself up.

Standing up, Jesiah glanced around his surroundings. This, hmm, shit. It didn't exactly look like the Midwest. This wasn't good at all. Mountains, erm, at least foothills. The sound of a river, maybe a large stream nearby, and of course nature. No cars, no sirens, no electric hum from generators or the grid. Plus, it was cold. He’s standing beneath the snow but it wasn’t snowing. Rather it was clear as a day with cold winds. Jesiah was so confused as the winter season in Colorado begins by mid-November. He must have been on some wild dare to drive all the way over to the Rockies. Well, memory would come, in time. The alcohol often took nights or days, but never forever. For now, winter clothing and a friendly stranger would be good to find. If they were around, that is. He couldn't see any obvious signs of civilization, which only told himself he was definitely out in the backwoods. With a resigned shrug and a cold breeze coming out from his mouth, he began to walk fast due to this came out of nowhere cold weather- at least his upper body was fairly tanned from the yard maintenance of the summer, and wouldn't burn that quickly under this pallid sun. The rest of him... well, He had better find some pants, he chuckled to himself. Indecent exposure charges had a way of haunting people.

Figuring that following the hot spring was a good bet to find people, he walked over to it. It was pretty deep, and mildly warm when he stuck a hand down to grab a drink of water. He was covered in snow, filth and grime, and the day was already warm despite it being a cold winter season, so he plunged in briefly to cool off. A slight indulgence, and it would keep his core temperature down if he had to travel for any unreasonable distance. Sticking to mostly the shade of the snow-covered trees growing along the bank he set out downstream of the hot spring, legs warming up for a steady jog. He wasn't much of a runner, but swimming kept his heart and lungs in good form. Someone would be looking for him, hopefully, and a hot spring’s watercourse was a natural place to check.

As he jogged along beside the glittering ribbon of silver and foam away from the Rockies, the plains eventually flattened out, though the woods seemed to get denser. Human habitation liked wood, and God knew how many settlers and homesteaders had changed the face of the continent with their tree planting back during the 1800s. North America was more forested than it had been at any point in recent history, for all the environmentalists liked to complain about deforestation. A scent touched his nose, and it wrinkled almost automatically; manure. Not an unfamiliar smell for anyone from near a farming community, but this smelled worse than most. It was like pig, chicken, and human all rolled together. Probably a wallow near to a particularly cut-rate trailer park or camping site. The Forest Service really did deserve a budget increase one of these years; as he jogged, he resolved to look into the upcoming candidates stances on the issue. It wasn't fair to always beat the same old drum about deficits or abortion when there were other matters that could use attention too.

Then he saw it. A small mud and wood hut, its roof covered by the snow, built of crude logs and what looked like smeared river clay. His surprise only deepened when he saw a man emerge from it with a beard like an untamed bush and nothing so much as animal hides on his brawny back. He was a little fellow, as he assessed from the distance, perhaps coming up to his vaguely goateed chin. He had meant to shave off the damned thing a few days ago, but there was always something else that had to be done more urgently at work. The best he could say for him was that he didn't look like a serial killer- more just the most Amish of all the Amish. An Amish wearing fur clothes. Not inclined to be too picky, being naked and alone out in this wilderness, he approached with a friendly wave and smile.

"Hey!" Jesiah hollered in neighborly tones.

"I've run into a spot of trouble. Would you mind letting me use your phone?" It was a long shot, he judged, that he actually had a phone given his rather squalid self-imposed state. But it was what he was actually looking for, and would prevent him from spending too much time talking to the strange weird-hobo if he knew someone with more modern amenities. To his surprise, though, he almost scared himself as the words passed his lips. They were not the American English that was his mother tongue, though he had conceived and sent them forth as such. Rather a more guttural language, perhaps like German. He couldn't tell which it was, but frowned, and bit his lip. This was somewhat frightening. Mental aphasia was no laughing matter, despite how the old man, albeit more older than Jesiah in his mid sixties, would soon burst into laughter at Jesiah’s foreign grunts. His eyes seemed to be working fine, but clearly Jesiah had a concussion. This was serious.

To his shock though, he answered in the same tongue, unperturbed by Jesiah’s ghastly turn of phrase. The old man spoke in that language, and Jesiah understood him, but he had no idea how such a phenomenon occurred. Something about "cracked head crazy old man, here, cover yourself". The old bearded fellow then offered what looked like some sort of cloth tunic with fur clothes after turning back into his house for a second. Jesiah really had no idea why on earth he didn't have some pants, but this overcloak was better than running around naked. Jesiah took it with a smile and muttered thanks, and slipped it over his head. It was rough to the touch, and crudely woven, but clearly this was a chap living off of the land like some madcap Survivorman. It was probably the best he could make. he asked again about the phone, to which Jesiah got only a puzzled "what do you talk about?". Archaic verbiage. Jesiah mentioned wanting to get back to civilization, and the old man just nodded and smiled. A nice old lunatic, at any rate, he waved his hand down the stream.

"I'll pay you back as soon as I can." Jesiah said, and the old-bearded man nodded seemingly content. It was a roughspun garment, but it's better than walking around naked, and it surely took him or his wife much effort to weave.

He set off down the stream of the hotspring again, until after about an hour when noon approached, he came upon another collection of buildings quite similar to the lunatic's snow-covered mud-thatch hut. This was a strange religious sect, and he had no idea why his head injury made him talk like them. Jesiah is not an unimaginative fellow, and he keeps up on the affairs of the world, but he really couldn't tell what on earth was going on. Their roads were packed dirt, and all wore cloth tunics like mine of dun brown or light grays. His repeated questions about a telephone were just met with more shrugs, as were questions about the police or a bus stop.

Eventually after asking about any other towns, he gave up for the night. It seemed there was a larger city some ways to the east, but the odd villagers seemed to think it was at least a day's walk, and he hadn't seen any cars, or bikes, or even so much as a horse. Just sheep and lambs and weird tiny people. When he offered to chop wood for a night's stay, as he had done on the Appalachian Trail before, an elderly couple who are older than him took him up on the offer. The axe they handed him might as well have been a British Museum artifact, made of a wedge of stone affixed by dried strips of heartwood to a thick sturdy handle. But it served the purpose. Jesiah had a sneaking suspicion, one he didn’t voice even within the quiet of my mind. But he slept well that night, muscles warmed from hard labor for the simple supper of dried strips of dubious meat and some root vegetables, despite how my bed was essentially a straw pallet. Those suspicions could wait until tomorrow.

//

Jesiah’s suspicions had been confirmed, though broadened. As far as he could tell, this was not the world as he knew it. Either alcohol had magical powers of teleportation, he was the first human to unlock and there was still an uncontacted Neolithic tribe hanging out somewhere in central Germany, or something entirely stranger was afoot. This was Germany. As near as he could tell? Maybe Austria? They weren't in the Rockies either. Too jagged and old, not large enough. The climate said northern, and the language said that these weren't the Urals. Plus the genetic phenotypes made sense with his conjecture; these people, for all their shortness, had often dark hair or sandy blonde hair, and they seemed to be fair-skinned enough though the parts unprotected by their simple garments were more the color of old leather than proper Caucasian skin. Jesiah’s host, who he called Gregor because he didn't feel like pronouncing Gregafiareoapih; whatever his host’s name was, was a dour middle-aged man who said he had seen five and forty winters. One of the elders of what he took to be a fairly close-knit clan. Either he had been thrown backwards in time (which might be, Jesiah was no history major) or to another world where time flows differently and man was still making stone tools in the foothills of the Alps in 2022 Anno Domini.

But at the end of the day, which didn't really matter, Jesiah was here. Here, he looked to be staying for the foreseeable future. Rolling out of bed at Nat's mumbled call to work, he shrugged a new tunic over my head, thankful for the clean cloth. These people, for all their complete lack of knowledge of sanitation, at last bathed and washed their clothes. Some bathed downstream from the village to heat themselves up from the winter, and chuckled when he walked upstream of the hotspring to take his morning wash above the streams of filth and offal that the Primordials (as Jesiah called the villagers) cast without heed into the turbulent waters. His attempts to explain that washing in clean clear water meant avoiding the infections that plagued much of the village were treated with suspicion by some, but others noted that his body despite being old and burly at the same time, was without blemish or sign of disease like almost all in the village. This in itself was regarded as a small miracle by some of the settled tribesmen, for he had avoided the Bloody Flux and Wasting Sickness for all Jesiah’s life.

//

It had been a month and more, his cycle of days was accurate, and the villagers had been very kind. Speaking their language helped, though he didn't know how Jesiah did it, since in his mind, he tried to speak in British English, their native barbarian tongue issued from Jesiah’s lips. His days of bow-hunting had also paid off; recreational spitting of deer, rabbit, and squirrels now supplied by Jesiah’s host family with easy meat for the table, though their bows left much to be desired. Even the chief came up only to Jesiah’s mid-chest, and he had to outweigh him by a hundred pounds at least, maybe a hundred and thirty. He was an average big man in the time before his jump through time and space, and now he was a giant…sort of.

At Jesiah’s request, the local bowyer had made him a larger bow with a stronger draw maximum, a crude self bow with little artistry. But at least he didn't feel like a child shooting at pretend cowboys when he went hunting. Jesiah’s legs were growing stronger despite being in the mid-sixties, getting the fresh air and exercise they had longed for in his cubicle job, and he could run with all but the most experienced hunters as his strides ate up the ground as theirs simply could not. Several things still troubled Jesiah though; it was only a matter of time before he nicks himself shaving and gets blood poisoning, or winter comes and the game runs scarce. He had no intention to die out here in some Godforsaken corner of time due to his stomach deciding to expel his life from his body over some bad meat. What these people needed were tools, proper ones. Jesiah and the tribes he is in were in luck, really. He sighted what he thought was a placer deposit of malachite on one of his hunts up into the mountains, and any materials engineer worth his salt can tell anyone how to extract copper from such a rich ore source. The Zimbabweans had similar deposits when he worked there. Making a proper smeltery would take time, and bricks, but these locals had no lack of clay. Explaining the concept of an axe holding a point not made of sharp-rock or flint to anyone was difficult, but he wasn't unskilled in the art of pantomime. Recruiting one of the younger lads, a fellow he called Peter for his stony face, they set out one day at dawn with stone hammers to climb up to the distinctive green-banded malachite formations. It was time to introduce these primitive agrarians to the Copper Age.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Devin Murphy

Location: Dingle Peninsula, Munster, Ireland
Day: January 1st, 5000 BCE
Weather: low 40s, cloudy and rainy

It was raining when Devin woke, and he knew this because he was wet.

He groaned and raised his hand over his head—just his luck, to spring a leak right over his bed—when he realized his pillow was missing, and that his cheek was resting on dirt.

Devin squinted and sat up. He wasn’t in his bed, cocooned in his comforter. He was instead laying in the underbrush beneath a massive bare tree, with fat wet raindrops plopping down from the gray sky through the branches on his bare skin. Devin shivered.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around himself. The air was chill, and everything smelled of dirt and decay and petrichor. He hoped it was a dream, but he’d never dreamed scent before.

Devin pinched his upper arm hard and yelped in pain.

He wasn’t dreaming. He was naked in a forest getting rained on. Wind rattled the empty branches above him. It was winter, but thankfully not a winter as cold as the one he’d been in just yesterday, with snow and negative temperatures. Not that it wasn’t cold, but if he was going to be out naked in winter, he appreciated that it was above freezing at least. Devin looked around at the forest, at the skeletal winter underbrush and the massive trees around him, and felt an icy zing go down his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. He was a city kid, he’d never deny it. But he’d done his share of camping, and he had never once set foot in a forest like this. It was old. Too old to be anywhere he’d been on the East Coast.

Devin put his face in his hands and breathed deeply. He didn’t know what was happening, and he wanted to have a good scream about it, but he was naked in the woods, and he needed to take care of that first so he didn’t. You know. Die.

It didn’t take too long to find a suitable spot to build a fire, far enough from the trunks and low branches of the trees that they wouldn’t catch fire. It took longer to clear the space and find enough rocks to build a pit. There wasn’t much wind, and there was quite a lot of wood that was only partially damp, so he figured it wouldn’t be too hard to keep a fire going, provided he could get it to start.

“Who would have thought I’d ever miss matches so much?” he muttered, spinning his spindle stick rapidly between his palms against a larger piece of wood. He’d done this before, just to prove he could, but it had sucked the whole time. It sucked worse, now, but in the end he managed it, and spent a good half hour anxiously baby sitting his fire until it was a respectable size.

Somewhere above him a crow cawed, and Devin looked up to find an ashy gray and black bird looking down at him from the nearest tree, its bright eyes looking at him curiously. A hooded crow, and not the sleek black American crow he’d been expecting.

“Oh, Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” Devin said softly. The crow cawed again and took flight.

A hooded crow meant he was somehow, somewhere in Europe.

Devin ran his hands through his hair and down his face.

* * *​

It had stopped raining, some time ago, but Devin had remained with his fire, trying to decide what to do next. There was no grantee he'd find people, or at least not quickly, given that the size and age of the forest meant it was probably fairly far from any sort of settlement, and he really wasn't in a hurry to go wander around in it. Instead he sat curled up by the fire, poking at it now and then more for something to do rather than the fire needing any tending, turning his few options over in his mind.

A dog howled.

Devin sat up. Another dog called out, and he realized they were hunting dogs on the scent. He jumped to his feet and scrambled for dirt to put out his fire, stamping it down as quickly as he could before darting off in the direction of the dogs.

He found the boar first.

It was a big animal, all tusk and coarse reddish fur and wild eyes, and Devin nearly fell over as he tried to stop and turn back towards a tree to climb and get out of its way, when a dog flew in and snatched at the boar's throat, distracting it from Devin. He pulled himself into a nearby oak, and by the time he looked down hunters had arrived, their spears sticking out of the boar as it died loudly. The dogs stopped howling and instead trotted around the hunters who began to butcher the boar, tails wagging and tongues lolling, to receive pats.

One dog trotted over to the tree Devin was up, and barked once at him. A hunter joined the dog and looked up at Devin.

"...What are you doing out here naked?" he asked, sounding bemused. He didn't speak English, or any other language Devin recognized, but somehow he could understand him fine.

"I wish I had a good answer for you, but I'm as confused as you are," Devin said honestly, and the man laughed. He slid out of the tree, and it wasn't until he was on his feet that Devin realized maybe being naked in front of strangers with his very visibly trans body was not a hot idea. He was taller than the man next to him, even if only by a handful of inches, but the other man was considerably stockier than he was, and he was severely outnumbered. The other man gave Devin a stronger once over than he would have liked, but said nothing. He just removed the big fur cape he was wearing and settled it over Devin's shoulders. It was very heavy and had a not unpleasantly musky smell on it, and Devin felt better immediately.

"I'm called Conn," the man said. After Devin gave his own name Conn said, "Come, we can speak more once we are home. For now there is work to be done."

* * *​

Despite the fact that Devin hadn't actually been part of their hunting party they were happy enough to treat him like he was, which Devin appreciated. Particularly because it involved being fed. They lead him out of the forest to the west, and when they stepped out of the treeline Devin had to stop and stare for a moment.

He'd done a semester abroad in college in Dublin, and once he and his friends had gone on a road trip to the Irish west coast. And they had stopped in Dingle, and he had once looked out on the Irish coast at nearly this exact spot, though there had been fewer trees and more fields.

Ireland had lost most of its forests in the middle ages. This didn't make any sense.

"Are you alright?" Conn asked, looking back at him with concern.

"I...I don't know know," Devin said. He felt actively insane, and pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead.

The little village the hunters brought him to was clearly nomadic, with wooden frame and hide houses that could easily be packed up and moved. Everyone in the settlement was deeply interested in him, to a degree that Devin found a little uncomfortable. They were friendly though. Conn's wife, a round little woman named Sadb, fussed over him quite thoroughly before Conn brought him to the fire pit in the center of the tents, several of his and Sadb's children in tow.

There seemed to be a council of elders waiting there for them, all very polite, but all very interested to know where he had come from, and how he had come to be in the forest alone. Devin sat in front of their fire with Conn's big fur cape wrapped around them and tried to come up with an explanation for something he didn't understand himself.

"I...I'm not quite sure how I got here," he told them. "I know that sounds crazy. But I woke up alone in the forest, and I don't remember how I got there."

"Where are your people from?" one of the elders asked, a woman with elaborately braided gray hair.

Devin almost said here, but that wasn't right. He was Irish, but if he was in an Ireland as early as he was starting to think he was, these people might not be related to him at all. And besides, he was American. So he looked past her, to the deep blue sea spread out on the horizon, and he pointed south west across it.

"Across the sea," he said. Everyone around him immediately began murmuring. The elder who had questioned him did not. She just looked at him with dark eyes that made him want to fidget like he was a child at school.

"And you are neither man nor woman?" Devin sat up, bristling.

"I am a man. I...I just did it on purpose." It was not the best explanation of being trans he'd ever given, but it didn't seem to matter. She smiled at him like she understood.

"Stay with us," she said. "I think we can all agree you would be welcome." And despite the muttering that his earlier answer had given, everyone else agreed.

"Thank you," Devin said.

 

[Elaeja]

Astor Tor

January 1st, 5000 BCE
Southern Egypt, East of the Nile

....

Whispers in the wind…

Darkness then light…

Warmth unlooked-for…

A man laying among the sands….

….

“GhHuuh-” I gasp out of my dreams and my eyes crack open, only for my lungs to pinch in pain. I start choking and coughing, as I push my prone form onto my elbows, then my hands and knees.

*Loud wheezing and coughing*

My eyes blink away tears as I try to stabilise my breathing.

Coagulating whatever interrupted my airways, I spit the remnants out as my eyes begin to focus on the ground.

…Is this…Sand?

Frowning in confusion, I twist my head up and feel a tense pain grip the left side of my neck. Gritting my teeth, I sit on my heels while stretching my neck and bring my left hand up to massage the tightness. I freeze as soon as my eyes take stock of my surroundings.

“What the—” Widening my eyes, I stand up and swivel around aggressively, desperately hoping my own senses have deceived me.

Tan-coloured sand and rocks fill my vision as I stand in a valley with rocky outcroppings rising many meters to my sides.

My mouth gapes for a second before I close it and lick my lips. Heat permeates my head and shoulders; I look up and am blinded by a scorching sun among the clouds. I quickly face back down and I’m met with another unexpected, dread-inducing realization.

I’m naked? The fuck…?

Shaking my head in disbelief, I once more look around me. Cursing out another explicative, my thoughts do mental gymnastics trying to rationalize how I got here.

Kidnapping? Probably not… Am I dead? Don’t think so… Isekai’d?... Shit, I hope not…

“Right… so, I was studying? Yeah? Then… I must have fallen asleep” I nod along to my verbal reasoning despite my mind racing. “Right… Right, right… Right... Now…. I’m here.” Sweeping my arm to punctuate my words, I take a deep breath — a bead of sweat drips down my forehead.

….

“Well, fuck”

“Ah… water… would be a welcome…sight? No, no…. thing… yeah… commodity… thingy”

After my ‘awakening’, as I called it, I decidedly made for higher ground and started walking in the direction I found most promising. Several hours later — as the sun, travels of course — my fate was looking grim.

I think… the heat’s getting to me... I'm gonna have some nasty sunburn if I don't find any cover soon...

A gust of wind dusts me and my body reminds me I’m naked.

Letting out a small sneer in frustration mixed with annoyance and anxiety, I turn in a 360-degree motion while gazing around me, my legs trudging onward.

Thankfully, or worryingly, the land had started flattening out. Still, no trees, animals, or civilization. Just, rocks, sand… more rocks, more sand…

Uttering a bit hysterically, “rocks, sand… rocky sand” a deranged chuckle escapes me.

…Why me?... How did I—?

My mind begins questioning my situation again and I quickly sober, all humour quickly dissipating. I release a pained sigh.

My feet are killing me... I mentally moan.

Bringing an arm up, I wipe my sweat away and eye the rocky, sandy, watery horizon.

Wait… Watery?

I snap my eyes to the watery thing I saw and squint, muttering cautiously optimistically, “Heat mirage?... No… I don’t think so… it looks more… real.”

Without further fanfare, I change directions with renewed hope.

“It’s not like I had any clearcut destination before” a rueful smile crosses my face.

Per aspera…

“Ad astra…” I whisper.

 

[Mitheral]

Jonathan Rhand​

Day 1
5000 BCE, January 01
Temp, mean 38 F.

It had only been a few more miles to the Meander River (actually the Lycus, but this turns into the Meander). But this was where Telip had wanted to make camp and let the livestock graze and water. It was also close to where he had known a natural spring was. Turkey had a geology that supported natural springs. It was some of the best tasting water in the world. Telip must have agreed as the women began filling a couple pots of water.

The longer stop meant more time for Jonathan to work on his axes. It was not a job one could rush. It took a little trial and error to find the right rock to use for a tool. Telip soon realized what Jon was trying to do and started to help a little. However, he eyed the size of the rock that Jon had chosen with a frown. He thought the rock was far too big. Jon had expected this. It had been intentional. When completed he expected the axe to weigh about 15 pounds. He could swing such an axe all day. Telip’s concern was likely that such an axe would be too slow to serve as a weapon. Normally he would be right. Jon had been swinging a 15 pound sledgehammer to split firewood one handed when he was 13. He was a lot smaller then.

He remembered making his first such axe when he was 13. It had been part of a Humanities class where they wanted to impress upon young minds how far we had come. Adobe bricks, making fire, primitive loom creation, pottery making, and other such skills were all part of the class. He hated it then. Now he was beginning to appreciate the lessons. He also recalled how long it took to make the axe.

The teachers weren’t too picky about the edge on the axe. They just wanted something with the promise of being functional. Jon had come the closest. It took him three days. But that was with modern steel tools to make the handle. That shaved a full day off. He got lucky finding a good cobble and pecking tool. The axe head should have taken a little over a week to make - assuming skill. They had used a grinder to rough the shape out to save some time. Cheating, he called it. He wished like Hell he could cheat now.

Telip was there to help him cheat just a bit. “You are making an axe?”

Jon nodded. “Can’t keep asking you for tools.”

“What are you making it for?”

“I am going to build that fish trap. And I am going to build you a sledge - or make an ox cart.”

“What is an …” Telip was confused.

“It is a way to help your ox pull a lot of stuff behind it.” He thought for a moment. “I’ll show you.”

Jon asked for a small flat strip of leather or cloth. Then he took two sticks and rolled the sides of the cloth onto the sticks in almost parallel but angling together. Then he put some small rocks on the miniature sledge and pulled it along.

“Crude, but that is a small sledge. The problem with a sledge is that it doesn’t do well on this terrain. Too rugged. In the deserts or grasslands it is fine. A cart has wheels.” Again he saw confusion. “The potter’s wheel hasn’t been invented yet either. No wheels … anywhere. Interesting. Well, what is a good round fruit?”

“A pear? Grape? Fig?” Telip suggested.

“Okay, got one we can use and a thin knife to slice it with?”

“You just want to taste one,” Telip smiled.

“Naturally, but I’ll make my point.”

Telip went to one of the women and had them pull out a small copper knife. Jonathan had the impression that it was an heirloom. Then the young woman made two slices of a small onion. The look she gave Jon was scathing. Jon just grinned. “Perfect!”

Once back to the sledge replica Jon created the makeshift axle and laid the weighted end on the axle and rolled it along. “Crude, but I think you get the idea. With a second one of these you could make a wagon. I would ask for another couple slices, but I have a feeling that men are not allowed to bother her when cooking.”

Telip laughed. “No, I think it's just you.” He couldn’t help but enjoy the fact that this didn’t bother Jon in the slightest. His smile faded as he studied the fascinating sledge / cart that Jonathan had made. “This is … I have never seen its like.”

Jon seriously debated whether to tell Telip about how to smelt copper. For that matter he could teach them how to extract most of the common ores even those currently out of their reach. But did he really want to do that? It took thousands of years for humans to reach the atomic age. And when they got there they still didn’t have the wisdom to keep from living in a world on the edge of brinkmanship. Of course, a single tyrannical government could prevent that by sheer dominance. Then again, that assumed he was the only one like himself. It would be child’s play to topple such a government before it reached that point.

*******

Ti-Sumurna
Yeşilova Höyük
Yassıtepe Höyük
Day 7
Temp, mean 46 F

Telip ended up loaning a copper axe to Jon. The revelation that Telip had such a tool surprised him. It was apparently very valuable to Telip, so Jon made it a point to return the tool as soon as he could. But it greatly sped his work up.

Little did Jon know, but he was reinventing the wheel. Well, not the wheel. But Anatolia was the birthplace of the Copper Age. They had early copper extraction a little before 5000 BCE. It was spread to Sumer by 4000 BCE. Granted, he was on the western frontier. These people were already mining malachite. Not in huge quantities. They still lacked steel and explosives, methods of transportation of ore, and advanced smelting techniques.

Ti-Sumurna had an estimated population of 200 - 250 people. For the region it was effectively a major port. Jon found immediate work as a fish and crab trapper. By the time he arrived he had three large traps built. He had already proven they would work for trout. He discovered that these people had boats. The boats were tiny. You wouldn’t want to take one out very far. But he had been surprised to see them.

There were three boats. One was a little larger, a merchant from eastern Anatolia. He would guess from around Adana. The merchant brought copper items and flax cloth. The other two boats were fishermen. He approached each one, not always receiving a warm welcome. But any hostility faded when he asked who made the boats. The merchant didn’t know as it was inherited. The fishermen told him where to go in town. They then asked him if he was a fisherman to which he shook his head with a laugh.

“The first boat I went on the sea fishing with sank. Bottom split. Dad barely managed to run the boat and toward shore until it bottomed out. Then he got priorities straight. First he carried me and my brother to shore. There was an undertow to worry about and I was only eight years old. Then he went back for the gear, then the fish. After that the boat fell apart.”

The fact that Jonathan was grinning probably confused them. But any interest in hiring him ended then and there. Neither did he seem like a threat to their business.

They watched as he put out three fish / crab traps and left them alone while he went about doing other things - like building a cart, a boat, inventing the wheel and axle. It took a few hours of getting nowhere, then setting his mind to work on how to teach these people a few basics.

By noon he had a plan. Being the tall stranger had its advantages. Everyone was curious about him. He hated the attention, but made use of it. The town was small enough to gather a large portion of villagers for a little show and tell. Truth was, he was a break from the monotony. He also came bearing the gift of free food. It just needed to be cooked. The real surprise was an octopus eating some of the crabs he had caught.

He brought out the miniature sledge and cart he had made for Telip and got their attention. He was describing something that might make their lives easier. “I can’t do this alone. Well, I could. But I don’t have the time. I plan to go exploring soon. I can teach you about the wheel and axle, how to make it work. I figured out a few ways to do that today.”

He had noticed that copper and malachite were being used to make beads for jewelry. What he had in mind was a wheel bearing system. He had grease packed enough of them in his youth. The same idea would apply well to a potter’s wheel.

To show them how to make the things he wanted them to make, he borrowed some clay and molded each component. The models were crude. But he pointed out what each part would be made of. Finally he took an onion slice and pulled out a couple rings of different sizes selected so that some peas would fit between them, Then he set a small plate on top and spun it. He explained how the plate would need matching rings mounted on it. Sap might work as a glue. Finally he placed a small lump of clay on the plate and wet it so he could start molding it. THAT got their attention.

He decided he would save the lecture about a pulley for a later time. They were beginning to see a practical application for the wheel. The OTHER lecture was going to be a lot more fun, but a harder sell.

 

[ShinGeorgeTownRaja]

​

Act 2
Eddy "Ed" Pak
Location: Zalantun, Inner Mongolia, China
Mood: Nervous, relieved, unwell
Outfit: Fur coat
Date: January, 5000 BCE

Finally, Ed had arrived at Batbayar Village, under the captivity of horse-riding warriors. Once there, it had a barbaric feel to it, something that made Ed feel somewhat uncomfortable. However, the multiplicity of yurts with red designs and such clearly showed the obvious.

Speaking of yurts, it might indicate that Ed had ended up in Mongolia for some reason and not in a good way. In fact, the (not so) caveman people that he just encountered could prove that he was transported back in time to the Neolithic age and that he wasn't in the present day anymore. How much worse could it be for him? It was just the beginning.

One of the horsemen dragged Ed to a wooden stable, tying it up to the point where he couldn't escape at all.

"You'll stay here for a while until we let our chieftain know about you and see whether or not he'll speak with you! Otherwise, you might be executed instead! So don't you dare do anything stupid!"

Upon leaving Ed behind, he sat down, pondering about what to expect next. Even worse, he didn't know what he had gotten himself into. As painful as probably getting sentenced to death for a crime that he didn't commit, it was a scary thought for him. But would luck get to him after all? Maybe so.

Seeing the tribespeople passing by him and shivering from the cold temperature moments later, Ed experienced the unexpected by chance. A teenage girl, probably even in her late teens, was walking with her mother when she saw him being tied up and naked outside in the cold. Feeling confused, concerned, and pitying, she first saw him as a foreigner and a menance but eventually decided to free him from imprisonment since she regarded him as being a part of her people, the proto-Mongols, that was. Perhaps Ed was lucky after all.

"Wait! Don't get too close to the criminal!" warned the girl's mother, feeling very nervous for her own safety.

As the teenage girl carefully approached Ed, her hands were a little shaken from her mild nervousness. It seemed like she wasn't fond of interacting with strangers, especially a foreigner like Ed. Oddly enough, she didn't say anything nor make an attempt to have a brief conversation with him as she thought that he didn't speak the proto-Mongols' language or, in other words, a language barrier. Visibly, he could understand the mother's language very well without ever realizing it, as well as when the barbaric horsemen imprisoned him for no valid reason. Save for her generosity to place a fur coat, probably from a wolf, onto his body, covering solely the torso, private parts, and half of his legs and knees.

Without having second thoughts, the teenage girl pulled out a stone knife and exerted herself to free the foreign stranger. As the process continued, except for the girl's mother, none of the tribespeople cared about letting a criminal be freed nor did the horsemen notice because they were busy planning Ed's criminal sentence with the chieftain. Apart from that, the tribespeople were oblivious of it.

Successfully, the girl managed to free Ed from imprisonment and all was well, with the mother feeling relieved that it was over. However, it wasn't over yet. She pointed at a nearby field, only to be met with a black horse in contrast to the horsemen's unpigmented horses that they rode on. He just nodded without grinning at least an inch, confirming his understanding of her, since he appreciated her heroic action and then waved goodbye to her as she did the same thing in return. As a result, Ed ran as fast as he could onto the field while trying his best to avoid being detected by the horsemen if he was to get lucky like beforehand.

"Hey! He's getting away! Don't let him escape! Kill him!"

However, it was a hapless matter when the horsemen saw Ed running across the field while patrolling by the time he succeeded in reaching that particular point. One of them pulled out a bow and arrow and hurriedly aimed it from behind his back. Barely, steadily keeping his aim in check, he was ready to let fly at Ed but someone interrupted him.

"Stop, don't kill him! Let him escape, we'll go for his head next time! Just forget about him for now! Let's go!"



Ed briskly got on the black horse and finally got away from the hostile horsemen as expeditiously and far away from them as he possibly could. Even though he had no prior knowledge of horseback riding before he came to this mysterious place, he handled it surprisingly well in terms of maneuver and stability, indicating it to be beginner's luck. A few moments later, he started to feel intense cold as his fur coat that the girl gave him a short time ago wasn't effective for him. He then felt mild lightheadedness and mild shivering. It was mainly because, as mentioned before, the fur coat didn't seem to cover his entire body and that he wasn't wearing anything under it, such as underwear, shirt, etc. But otherwise, it could be hypothermia instead.

Ed later stopped his horse from proceeding any further, dismounting it afterward. The Mongolian steppe was so vast and empty that his beginner's luck was already running out, preventing him from looking for help and a single miracle wouldn't occur this time. He soon fainted upon getting off of the black horse, leaving his fate and tale afar mysterious...

 

[ShinGeorgeTownRaja]

​

Act 3
Eddy "Ed" Pak
Location: Zalantun, Inner Mongolia, China
Mood: Normal, happy, confused
Outfit: Full fur clothing
Date: January, 5000 BCE

Ed woke up with a mild headache, slowly opening his eyes to see where he was. His body felt heat, looking to the right to discover that it was coming from a campfire or the like. Not only that, but he found himself lying on a strange bed along with a fur blanket in place for him to stay warm.

To his left was a woman who had an unfamiliar face which Ed had never met before. Average and slight, she had pale skin and brown eyes. Her hair was short and black, with several strands of hair always hanging between her eyes and she wore Neolithic clothing with small and sharp bones around her neck as a necklace. And just as he realized before, he found himself to be resting and living in a brown yurt, something that the horsemen from the Batbayar clan and the people there seemed to also have.

Ed was no longer feeling intense freezing and his beginner's luck became a reality after all. The woman smiled at him, revealing her friendly side, unlike the aggressive horsemen. Her soon-to-be hospitality was the only thing that she could do to shed the light of day.

"Wow, you're awake! Not only that, but you survived the winter storm just before it even came! While I was riding on my horse to search for food, I happened to find you by chance when you were unconscious, so I took you to my yurt to get away from the winter storm and take care of you. If you were to stay out of the cold for too long, you would've been dead for good!" explained the woman, concerned for Ed.

"Really? That's, uh, very kind of you. Well, unlike those barbaric people that I happened to encounter. They were just..." Ed replied.

"Oh, I see! You're talking about the Batbayar clan, our rival, right? Their chieftain, Batu, is the brother of our chieftain, Temüülen of the Naranbaatar clan. You see, both of these clans have different ideas and opinions on who should unite this land, but they persisted in fighting each other for dominance who doesn't seem that peace will ever come to terms at all. Things haven't been easy ever since. With hope, Tengri will bring peace to this land once again."

"Oh, is that so? I'm sorry to say this but you haven't told me your name yet."

"Oh, where are my manners? My name is Khulan, the niece of Chieftain Temüülen. What's yours?"

"Khulan, huh? It's Eddy. Eddy Pak. However, you can call me Ed instead. Nice to meet you, I guess. Come to think of it, is it just me or can I understand and speak Mongolian well all of a sudden?"

"'Mongolian'? I had never heard of that word before. I can understand you just fine from what I see. You're probably one of us, right? Unless you're asking a different kind of question, then I don't know. And Eddy Pak and Ed? You have a very strange name for sure."

"Uh, never mind that. Well, since you brought me all the way to this yurt, are you here to slaughter me just like those barbaric horsemen that imprisoned me for no reason earlier?"

Ed had forgotten that he was actually speaking a different kind of language, which was Mongolian. Apart from his native English and Cantonese, it was so bizarre for him. Upon him asking Khulan about whether or not her tribe was barbaric, she tilted her head in confusion.

"Barbaric? We're no barbarians, Ed. Our clan is much more peaceful and welcoming to newcomers than them. The Batbayar clan, on the other hand, is warlike and is willing to capture any trespassing newcomers that are being deemed a threat to their territory. In fact, they believe that cannibalism can appease Tengri and that good omens will happen to them if they do so. Our religious viewpoint is unlike them, though. We believe in the value of nature and the power of the sky and heaven."

"I see. No wonder they were so aggressive and rude. I guess I might as well stay away from them from now on."

"Yeah, you definitely should. Anyway, I got you some clothes for you to put on. I made them just for you, so be sure to put them on whenever you're ready, because we have some work to do which will be your first job. Just a warning though, it's complicated at first once you get the hang of it. But you'll see."

The clothes that Khulan made were brownish in color and the scent coming from them was pleasant even though perfume wasn't even invented in the Neolithic period. Along with it was a bone necklace which was exactly like the one she was wearing. And of course, Ed wasn't expecting her to assign him to his first job even though he had recently been transported back in time to Neolithic Mongolia.

"My first job? But I just got here. Well, you just brought me here just to save my life and I can't thank you enough for that. But why assign me to a job all of a sudden?" Ed said, pointing to himself with his index finger in confusion.

"My word is my bond and you have to obey it. You wouldn't want to disappoint Chieftain Temüülen, right? Let's make the right decisions from this point forward, okay? As a matter of fact, you haven't met him yet, have you? So let's do that first and then I'll show you where your first job will be at. I'll be waiting for you once you get dressed and ready," Khulan said right before she left the yurt, leaving Ed alone for a short while.

Ed didn't reply anything back to her because he didn't have anything else to say. There were no complaints to be made. Perhaps for him, getting assigned to his first job wouldn't hurt a bit, as it had been a while since he worked part-time as a barista until he quit it when he was in Hong Kong in the future. It may be a struggle at first, but what was the benefit to him? Probably to get some exercise and improve his self-discipline in the process, but it would be totally different than what he had in mind. But for now, it would be a long-lasting journey that he had to overcome to get to know Khulan and her clan more and to gain their trust in the process.

 

[Mitheral]

Jonathan Rhand​

Ti-Sumurna
Yeşilova Höyük
Yassıtepe Höyük
Day 14
Temp, mean 46 F

For the next week Jon had half the village working on various tasks, making wheels, making rope, cutting wood to specifications. The hardest work was smelting all the copper. While it might not seem like it, the smelting was slow and laborious work done in several steps. But before they even started casting the parts he had developed an upgraded design for the potter’s wheel that halved the mass of copper needed and simplified it based on something he thought he recalled from a microwave platter.

Before he had them start assembling things he took two different sized wheels and pressed them together in a gear like fashion and showed them the concept of a gear. He then did the same with a loop of rope around the outsides in a fashion similar to a bandsaw. Finally he drew a picture on clay of a pair of wheels with teeth, introducing the concept of gears.

Introducing the pulley was a stunt he had a little fun with. He picked two people from the village. One was a man the village considered the strongest - not counting himself. The other was the woman from Telip’s family who had kept scowling at him. He made a show of her biceps. Then he had the man try to pick up a large weight, about 400 pounds. He barely budged it. After the failure, Jon tied rope around the mass and had her grab the rope using the pulley. He had assembled a multi pulley system that reduced the force needed to lift the rough to a third. Everyone laughed when she did a pull up and couldn’t lift the rock. Jon laid a hand on her shoulder and pulled her down gently. Then he took her end of the rope and thanked her. He continued to hold the rope with one hand and held it there while she let go, though he clearly had to strain a little.

“All this that I have shown you is for naught unless you pass the knowledge on. To do this you must learn how to preserve your knowledge in a way that your descendants will be able to understand in a dozen generations. Can anyone tell me how to do this?”

He got no response at first. Finally someone mustered up the courage to suggest stories.

Jon expected this. He smiled. “Word of mouth.” He nodded, trying not to smile. “I am going to demonstrate something about that. We are going to play a game. Don’t worry. I will make this quick. I need ten volunteers.” He looked right at Telip and nodded and raised his hands. Soon he was joined by others. “Now then, spread out in a lone line, far enough apart so that you can’t hear one another whisper.” Once they were done he explained. “I am going to whisper in the first person’s ear. They will relay the message to the next person and so on, each with a whisper. The last person will tell us what the message was.”

It was an old game, but demonstrated the problems with verbal passing on of information. The crowd laughed at the final result.

Next he asked for some clay and had someone make a flat tablet. He explained how each sound in their words could be represented by a symbol. He used the Turkish alphabet as he knew it had only one way to pronounce each letter. Then he picked out a word and wrote it down.

“Next you will need to learn math. Math is a very special language because it is universal. With a simple math statement you can begin to learn a completely foreign language if you know how. But to do this we will need symbols for numbers and operators that tell us what to do with them…”

He was losing them. “But … maybe we can talk about writing and math another time.” He was a visible relief in the eyes of the villagers. He had gone into professor mode … again. Oh well. He had noticed that Telip had tried to listen.

Telip was more sure than ever that if Jon wasn’t a god, he was certainly sent by the gods.

*********

Day 14-17

For his part Jon made it a point to do more fish trapping. His fish traps did fine. But he also started gathering lots of seaweed and cooking it down to ash. This struck the villagers as rather odd. He just smiled and told them to wait and see.

His odd behavior had become something they expected. This gave him an excuse to sneak away with a simple bow on loan from Telip while he got around to creating his own. He did so on the pretext of hunting. And he never failed to return with small game, giving him the illusion of being an excellent shot. However, Telip had followed him the first time - “to make sure he wasn’t lost” - and caught Jon attempting to shoot a bow.

It came as a shock to watch Jon barely send an arrow 10 feet when his target was 50 feet away. To see it happen twice in a row was painful to watch. Several more attempts with a gradual improvement told Telip that Jon had never really learned to hold a bow or draw it correctly. Strange for a man whose father had been a hunter and whose mother was an archer of some repute.

Jon had an explanation ready though. Like most of Jon’s stories it was complicated. But Jon was a very capable student. By the first day he had moved the target out to 100 feet. Hardly impressive, but he was pretty accurate. But he also demonstrated better accuracy and power with a sling. Still, he admitted that he was at the edge of a sling’s limits already. Anything more distant would require a bow.

His third day of archery practice it wasn’t Telip who followed him. It was the woman. Jon hadn’t expected this. Once he knew Telip wasn’t going to babysit him, he had taken along the things he needed to build and bait a trap. It was a simple trap to drop a heavily weighted net on a large prey, with some bread and grains as bait. The trap looked so dangerous that the woman’s curiosity didn’t get the better of her.

Once the trap was set he moved away to practice… downwind, of course. Jon soon caught on to the fact that he was being spied on and turned the bow on his unseen spy. The woman freaked out of course and revealed herself when commanded, throwing herself on the ground and begging him not to kill her.

That set him cursing under his breath with guilt. He moved in quickly, dropped the bow and picked her up. He drew her in and tried to comfort her. Then, in a moment of mischief, he said, “Onion lady.” His tone was teasing. That restored her composure quickly.

“You should not speak to me, not without my brother’s permission.” She started to become conscious of the fact that she was being held. “And you can let go of me.”

He ignored her for a moment. “I hope I didn’t embarrass you with the rope pulling.”

“That was improper. You should have consulted my brother.”

“So, you won’t tell me your name. Then I guess I shall just have to keep calling you Onion Lady.”

She scowled at Jon, but a smile just barely showed. She knew he was teasing. Under her breath she hissed, “Sabela!”

Their talk was interrupted by a crashing noise a short distance away. Instinctively Jon pulled Sabela in closer to protect her. Then he realized the noise was his trap. He reached down and snatched up the bow and urged her to follow him.

His best hopes were realized when he saw the large buck with its horns tangled in the net. It was going nowhere. He almost felt sorry for it. Almost. But this was about food and fur. He pulled out an arrow and had a thought. This was a chance to create the illusion of being a great hunter. Perfect shot indeed.

 

[Rysesaka]

Jesiah Adams Norton
Chapter 1, Episode 2: First Four Months

​

Ore Mountains, Central Europe (Czech-German border)
4 months later since Jesiah's arrival
May 5000 BC (1 EIY)

Fortune smiled upon the man out of time, the sojourner upon the temporal sands. Today Jesiah had found what he had scoured the countryside for with the proverbial fine-toothed comb; alluvial deposits of refractory clay, rich in aluminium and glistening like an Irishwoman's bonnie locks. This was the lynchpin to his plans, and Jesiah allowed a smile to cross his visage as he clambered down into the shallow pit where the stream ran down from the highlands. It was about a two hours gentle walk from the village, more if he could convince any of the locals to exert themselves. They were good folks, and had been much impressed by the crude copper axe-heads Jesiah had forged using sand and molten orange metal from a simple cook fire. To move any further though, to casting and cold-working and hardening, he would need a hotter flame and a better medium to work with. The sedimentary clay deposits of the rivulet near Primordial were insufficient for that purpose; he was no ceramics worker, to glaze pottery and create fired bricks with pasted exteriors. He meant, he had some knowledge of art from way back in his undergraduate years, but that was more likely to be wrong and lead me astray than not. Metals were his province, specifically ferrous ones. But bronze was a simple effort, comparatively, to true forged steel.

Down he plunged a hand into the rich red soil, and it came away in a clump-sticky and self adhesive. Perfect. Gesturing to Peter, Jesiah spoke in the guttural yet sonorous speech of the local, urging him to fill his crude animal-skin sack with the ochre earth. He did likewise, working with the pleasant rhythm of his muscles warming up to the effort. If they could have seen me at home, they would have been amazed at the transformation. Wilderness living really separated the chaff from the wheat- he was the average American in that, despite his exercise routines and active lifestyle, Jesiah was still probably ten or fifteen pounds overweight in terms of fat alone, nevermind subcutaneous layers and water weight. Now he felt more taunt, more dangerous, a whipcord instead of a lumbering beast. He could run as he never had before despite being in the mid-sixties, feet tough like leather from months on hard ground, and even with his crude great bow- he was deadly beyond the range of even his best rifle shooting before this new life. So strange to find himself in a new world, or an old one, but God gave us what He choose, not what we would.

God. Explaining Jesiah’s prayers before meals to the Germanics had been surprisingly easy. They too prayed, at times, though as best he could tell they were primitive pagans, even hentotheists. The other villages, as best he could gather, were larger and more prosperous. To the east, where the material he would use had been manufactured. As Jesah hiked back towards the Primordials, he smiled at Peter. Peter had been his first convert. The god of the Primordials of the Ore Mountains was a small thing, said to be a frog spirit of the stream. Jesiah’s God was stronger, he had explained it to the youth. Not a God of one land, or one people, but of all time and all peoples. He had created all things, unlike the god of the river which had brought the stream to existence. Peter had thought that Jesiah’s God is much more mighty, for He had given the tribesmen named JESIAH, who was untouched by any disease and could make the very stones melt with his power. It was a curious notion when one thought about it; divine will. Some of the tribesmen had begun saying that Jesiah fell as a star from heaven to bring great things to them, and that it was the will of his God. He could not say them wrong- Jesiah had no idea how he got here. Maybe his God had sent me here for a reason indeed.

But he put that notion and wondering aside as he set to work outside the village environs, shaping bricks of the fire clay before suspending them on a lattice of sticks above a simple camp-fire. Charcoal production had been a difficult concept to teach the simple Germanics, but after showing them how long the briquettes burnt, a fellow old man nodded and said it was good. The man was what he had taken to be their chief at first. Large and well-fed, all that jazz, pretty beefy bruiser. They didn't seem to have any real concept of the idea though; when Jesiah mentioned the word chief to them, Jesiah got mainly confused stares back, and within a few weeks he had figured out that the man was simply a respected elder. They had no ruler to speak of, a testament to the unspoilt beauty of this land and the unsophisticated nature of their lives. After discussing the concept of a strong man to help all and lead in times of trouble, it seemed Jesiah had more or less agreed to fulfill that role. This was truly a naive land, where outsiders could rise to such a position, but as far as he could tell, they had almost no memory of warfare or struggle. Competition in trade, sure, and banditry on very rare occasions, but nothing formal aside from hunting. One day, Jesiah would change that, perhaps soon. But other things had to be done first before he could introduce these innocent people to the horrors of the reality of the world.

Charcoal, and brick. Those were the key, and the fire clay was the steel from which he molded the key. Slowly, working over a week, he built up a small kiln with a shaped stonebrick channel to pour out molten metal with, sealed by a ceramic disc made for the purpose. This would be Jesiah’s smeltery, the start of the age of metals for these simple people. The crushed copper ore he had in abundance now, the malachite easy to extract with a simple flame after being beaten with hammers. Some of the hunters had already reported great interest from Mara in the east, a larger city, about these copper tools his friends and… subjects used. It had brought wealth of food and timber to the village, the simple commodities of life here on the slopes of the Alps. But now Jesiah would make something far more important, and begin his climb towards legend. Because why spend life in the past in ignominy? The stars had been given to them, as Jesiah had wished for before in his simple job of materials processing, and he would grasp them.

These lofty thoughts on Jesiah’s mind, he thrust the small crude pot he had traded from one of the old women into the flames, and waited. If he was right, it was made of crude beaten tin ores, valued for its color. That discovery in her house had cemented his path- this must be part of the ore bearing Alps of the Czech border, for such ancient people to have access to rare tin. With malachite and tin came bronze, the forefather of civilization. Jesiah smiled a toothy grin as the pot began to weep the dun gray metal he required, and slowly fed crushed malachite into the furnace. A slurry began to form, which he skimmed off with a length of fire-burnt bark. Merely the stone slag. For the better part of an hour, he tended the furnace, and then began to work on the sand mold for his next creation. Eventually it was ready, and the slag had been cleared away by Peter's careful attention, only the deep brown luminescence of liquid bronze remaining in the stone-clay kiln. The fumes were acrid, and Jesiah carefully avoided breathing too close to where they billowed from the crude chimney. Then he unstopped the spillway, and filled the sand mold.

Several minutes later, Jesiah drew the bronze from the sand by its hand, and it flashed in the sun like fire given flesh. A sword, a gladius after the style of the ancient Romans. From this forging would come the path to a thousand victories to come. Bronze plows for the breaking of sod and stable food supplies, bronze armor to keep flesh from pain and death in war. Bronze arrowheads to slice open boiled leather and lesser metals. Not until he could find hematite could he make it better. And this was one of the foremost tin sites of the world, one he had learned about long ago when he was still a college student, his professor, Professor Xiu; a Chinese-American, discussed how metals came to be used by man. He laughed aloud as he lifted the blade, and Peter stared at it in wonderment as some of the other villagers came at Jesiah’s cry.

It was a leader's metal, an instrument of conquest and power. Megalomania? Perhaps. Time would tell.

 

[Mitheral]

Jonathan Rhand​

Ti-Sumurna
Day 17

Jonathan returned to the village carrying a fully mature 8 point buck like it was a sack of flour. The “perfect shot” sure as heck impressed the villagers. Telip, however, raised an eyebrow and saw the gleam of mischief in the man’s eyes. He had also noticed that Sabela had been missing and made it a point to divert his cousin’s attention. Jon soon made his intentions known. The meat was a gift to the village - as far as it would go. There was about 75 pounds of meat. The fur he kept and asked Sabela if she knew how to make the fur into a good blanket. She had been eying it the entire time. She nodded and looked to her brother (not Telip). Her brother nodded agreement. The man thought Jon’s ways were strange. But his generosity could not be denied.

That evening Telip approached his cousin to discuss Sabela. He had noticed Jon’s attention on his younger cousin. “It is a shame her father never found her a husband. And you should have found her one long ago.”

“No one would have her!” Telip’s cousin complained. Then his eyes narrowed. “You are thinking of Tartesh! She despises him.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Telip suggested.

“What do you know?”

“Did you see her TRY to be mad at him for embarrassing her in front of the village?” Telip asked.

“Yes, Tartesh’ behavior was improper. He should have discussed the matter with me first.”

“True, but I believe that Tartesh was showing her off.” Telip allowed that information to sink in.

“She is too old. Why would he even have her?”

“It couldn’t hurt to suggest the idea to him, hmm? Your father could finally be at peace.” Telip used every tool at his disposal to overcome his cousin’s stubborness.

“But could he pay the brideservice?”

“As if she has much of a dowry? He will find a way to take care of her. That is what is important. Did you know that he calls her Onion Lady.” He watched his cousin puzzle over that. “We asked her for a slice of fruit before we arrived at Ti-Sumurna and she instead gave him a slice of onion. He ate it anyway and just smiled.”

“Truly? Perhaps I should invite him over and have her cook a meal for him.”

“That should be interesting,” Telip sounded amused. “Are you afraid to taste it yourself?”

Telip’s cousin actually started laughing. “Well, she has never cooked poorly for me. But I have seen the faces of some young men that I tried to strike interest in her. They didn’t seem very keen on her after that.”

Day 18

Jon set a number of the villagers to work gathering various materials for the production of paper. The trick was going to be turning the material into a mash with any wood fragments removed. The finer the mash, the better. (He was sure there was a more technical word than mash, but whatever.) Now comes the secret of paper.

Soda ash. Anatolia was the source of over 70% of the world’s known supply of soda ash. The other two sources were in North America and Africa. And he knew where each one was. Soda ash was one of the main building blocks of civilization. There were cheaper, inferior sources. That was what the seaweed was. Not a pure source, but it would work for making a very primitive form of paper, as would any halo … halo … something or other. He couldn’t remember the word. Basically seaweed that was rich in a halide, namely sodium. (Jon is wrong. Turns out that even regular kitchen ashes will work. But this is better. Regular ash process takes a good week as opposed to hours.)

Day 19

The next afternoon Jon found himself invited to dinner and it turned out to be a family affair - the whole family. Their association with Jon had made them something akin to celebrities. Jon found himself in the position of guest of honor. Sabela was in rebellious mode again. She had been forced to make herself presentable. And, of course she was expected to serve the guest of honor. No one elected to tell him that his meal had been prepared separately.

From the first mouthful Jon knew something was up. He had been eating food in the village for nearly two weeks, as well as food prepared by Telip’s wife. This meal was considerably more spiced. Surprisingly, he liked it. He loved spicy food. He cleaned the bowl as best he could and tried not to look too hungry. Then came the question he knew was coming. He knew this game. It was the salt game - where a woman loads a meal with salt to see if the man will complain.

It wasn’t until the end of the meal that all but Sabela’s brother and Jon were asked to leave. Telip tried to wait as well, but a simple shake of the cousin’s head told him no. When they were all gone, Sabela’s brother spoke.

“Sabela prepared your dishes. You are the first man not to walk out in disgust or anger. She did not … ?”

Jon laughed in good humor. “Oh she did. Tasty, but with increasing spice. I have eaten far worse. I once ate a pepper so hot that it put blisters in my throat. I once played a nasty trick on a friend who liked to boast how hot a pepper he could eat. So I ate one of the very hot peppers at the meal. Nowhere near as hot as that other pepper. But definitely noticeable. My friend had to try to match the feat. I never saw a man down such a large drink so fast. There was a trick to it, of course. I had poked at the pepper to get rid of most of the seeds before eating it. To make him feel a little better I had him pick out another one. This one I ate fairly.”

“But the food wasn’t burnt? Or bitter?” The man seemed surprised. “She didn’t sabotage it?”

“No, it was great. I do mean that.” He smiled. ‘Women where I come from used to do the same thing. But if you wish, you may tell her I didn’t mind and thought the meal was excellent.”

“Why do you not tell her yourself?”

Jon nodded. “I do not wish to offend. But why …?”

“Why have I not found her a husband?” He sighed. “I have tried. I supposed I gave up. She hated every man I found who would consider her. And .. well, you see her.”

Jon looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

“She is skinny. To be honest, I am not sure how she has remained so strong.”

“Does she not eat well?” Jon asked

“She is voracious. If she ate any more she would be a man. But it is not something I would try to tell her.”

Day 20

Pouring the paper mash was the order of the day. For this part he even let some children help. The mash had to be smoothed out as evenly as possible. Once everything was poured, pressed to remove as much moisture as possible. Then rollers were used to compress it further. Then it was allowed to dry.

Telip, his brother and brother-in-law all discussed the matter of Jon and Sabela. There was a unanimous agreement that a bond between the two should be encouraged.

Day 24

The merchant returned. John had sent the man out with a mission. He has sent a little copper out to cover the purchase of rock samples. His instructions were explicit. Each sample’s original source had to be known, close and large enough to be worth mining. He gave an indication that he would be willing to trade for larger quantities - at least a ton in some cases for the minerals he was looking for. The samples he got back proved interesting.

One of the samples was fool’s gold. He laughed and inquired if the traders who had provided that had also laughed. They had. They did claim to know where to find plenty more. Hematite, galena, sandstone, gypsum, malachite, cassiterite, limonite, smithsonite, rhodochrosite, chromite, wolfram, bauxite, stibnite, mercury, barite, magnesite, kaolin, asbestos, graphite, talc, limestone and sulphur were all among the samples.

(OOC: I need to check and confirm that all of these are available as surface samples.)

Many of the more obscure samples the merchants weren’t sure of how much could be procured. They did say that Jon’s mention of having the means to smelt the silvery copper that the coppersmiths of Kadıköy couldn’t smelt had them interested.

Jon had some thinking to do. It would appear that Kadıköy was a larger trade port. For what he needed he might have to move there. The problem was that wood might not be as plentiful. He hoped that wouldn’t be the case or he would have to import. Either way he would have to import. And the travel routes from mineral resources and wood to Kadıköy were better than to Ti-Sumurna.

 

[Mitheral]

Day 28

Jon awoke sluggishly, dimly aware of the fact that his soft deer skin blanket that covered him. With a smile he realized that Sabela was going to be a blanket hog. He chuckled silently. She was probably going to be the death of him. But there was no changing his mind now. As much as he wanted to take a day off and sleep in, there was work to be done.

As he poked his head out of the small mud brick hut that he and Sabela enjoyed he was greeted with laughter. Sabela had been up for hours and he was running late. He was also in trouble because he was late for breakfast. He HAD slept in - and not intentionally. He dimly recalled waking up earlier and being told not to go back to sleep or he would be late, He winced as he realized they were right. He sighed and pulled his head back in. He stood up and managed to hit his head on the roof. He hated these huts for the fact that he always had to stoop.

Somehow she knew he was on his way before he even got there. Instead of going for the food placed on a stone table for him he tried to hug her and apologize. She wasn’t having it. But his incessant “Forgive me” finally wore her down and she angrily poked him in the stomach and told him to eat. To this he finally gave her a yes ma’am.

While he ate, his mind was in turmoil. If he had ever watched the movie, The Replacements, he would have been reminded of a quote about a duck on a pond - calm on the surface, but underneath its feet were just paddling away furiously. He had arrived in prehistoric times less than a month ago, met a woman, and agreed to take her on as a wife barely knowing her. He wasn’t the impulsive sort. He was, in the words of his now ex-girlfriend, a classic Libra. He always had to know everything before making a decision. He now realized she was only partly correct. He WANTED to know everything. He wasn’t above making snap decisions based on all available information when he was up against a deadline.

But the idea of having a wife scared him, just a little. It meant she would expect to have a child. This wasn’t exactly a time when you could just rush to the maternity ward. His one real inadequacy was in the medical field. Sure, compared to the natives he was a great healer. But HE knew just how little he knew. He also knew the reason he had avoided becoming a doctor was because he was squeamish. (An exaggeration)

**********

He had sent the merchant back to Kadıköy with news of his coming and requests to gather certain minerals, wood, and such in preparation for his arrival. He also requested some rabbits be sent from Angora - mating pairs - about 10 each male and female. He also gave instructions for the smiths there to have molds prepared for pours of new tools that would enhance their trades. He made it a point to send clay versions of the tools for them to use to design the molds. This was something that had left his stomach in knots. In theory he understood how to extract iron and forge steel. But this was mostly from reading books, knowing chemistry, and - oh yes - a couple lessons from blacksmiths associated with the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronisms). Even now his mind was running through all the warnings the smiths had given him about the crystilization in a typical pour. One had even shown him how to draw steel to make wire from scratch for chainmail. But that was one of the smiths who warned him about crystallization. That man had specifically explained how it could affect the brittleness of the wire. And then there was one of the last movies he had ever watched - Highlander 3 - in which MacLeod had suffered through numerous failures in his attempts to make a single sword.

Surely that was an exaggeration. Typical Hollywood … he hoped.

Anyway, the plan was to walk to Kadıköy on foot - just Sabela and himself, while the rest of the family moved the herd. It would take the merchant about a week. It would take Sabela and himself about three weeks with an ox cart. The rest of the family would arrive in about a month and a half. With any luck Jon hoped to have a home waiting for his family by the time they arrived. That would be the beginning of spring.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Devin Murphy

Location: Dingle Peninsula, Munster, Ireland
Date: January-February, 5000 BCE
Weather: low 40s, cloudy and rainy

His new túath, Devin soon realized, did not quite believe him when he said that he was a man, but in a way so odd that he was too baffled to be mad. Because they did not seem to think he was a woman either. Instead they seemed to consider him, without any real effort, a sort of third gender, who could move at will from one to the other, or ignore them completely as suited him. He could go hunting with the men, or gathering hazelnuts with the women, or try to unobtrusively follow along with a children's flint knapping lesson, and everyone seemed unbothered by this.

It was kind of nice, actually. Socially enforced gender anarchy. He preferred that to the shit he got in the 21st century, in all honesty.

At night, around the fire, they told stories. They had asked him for a story, that first night, and after a moment of panic Devin told them a heavily edited and abbreviated version of the Hobbit, and accidentally introduced them to the concept of dragons. Too late, he had to wonder if he should try and stick to a Star Trek-esque Prime Directive non-interference policy, but he decided it would be more or less impossible to actually stick to. Sorry, future archaeologists.

He told them Star Wars another night, and an Táin Bó Cúailnge another, and then as many folk tales he remembered from his grandparents. And to his surprise, they seemed to genuinely like when he told stories. Devin assumed it was because his stories were new rather than think he had any real skill with telling them, but hey. He'd get better if they gave him more opportunity to practice.

It had not taken Devin long to settle into the routines of the túath and camp, and once he had, his brain and his fingers began itching for a project. At home, that had usually meant a painting, but making oils and canvas was a little out of his scope, at the moment. Besides, what would he do with a painting if he made one? Haul it around?

Ceramics weren't really his forte, but pots were well within his skill set, and they would be a useful thing to have. He just needed a fire big enough to bake them properly, and while he could certainly do that on his own, he figured it would be best to warn someone that he was making a giant fire on purpose and not to burn down the forest, and so he went to Aíbinn, the elder. She listened to his pitch very carefully.

"And these pots are things your people have? Across the sea?" she asked when he'd finished.

"Yeah," he said, because it was easier than explaining that ceramics had mostly gone out of fashion except as art projects. Aíbinn studied him a long moment, just the way she had when she had first met him.

"Very well," she said. "Will you need our assistance with this ritual?"

Devin opened his mouth to protest that it wasn't a ritual, and then closed it without speaking. Maybe it was. Arthur C. Clark, and all that. "No," he said instead. "I mean, if anyone wants to help, I certainly won't say no, but I can do it myself."

Aíbinn smiled. "I look forward to seeing your magic," she said.

* * *​

The fun thing about clay was that it was easy to restart if something wasn't working. You just smushed it back down into a lump, maybe added some water if it was drying out, and tried again. He'd maybe figure out a wheel later. Or maybe not. They'd packed up and moved off the coast a few days ago, for better shelter against an incoming storm, and a potter's wheel would have been an unwieldy addition to the move.

Devin had made a few little pinch-pot bowls and cups and set them aside before starting an experiment with coiling to make a bigger pot when Conn's oldest daughter Fedelm appeared to peer over his shoulder.

"Can I help?" she asked. She was about ten, with curious dark eyes and a habit of tagging along at her father's heels.

"Sure," Devin said, setting his just started coil pot aside and selecting a fresh lump of clay for each of them. "The easiest way to make something is by pinching it. Like this," he said, demonstrating how to make a little divot in the clay with his thumb, and then pinch it into shape with the thumb and fingers. Fedelm watched seriously and imitated him in her own little lump of clay. She picked up the knack of pinching and pressing and smoothing quickly, and after they'd both made little cups Devin showed her how to make a little bird from clay, how to pinch the clay around the hollow instead of leaving it open, how to carefully form a head and beak and tail, and how to press little divots for eyes in with her nails.

"I'll have to be very careful not to squish him flat," Fedlem said, cupping the little clay bird carefully in both hands.

"Only until we fire him," Devin said, picking his coil pot back up. "Once he's been baked he'll be too hard to squish, but he might break if he gets dropped."

Fedlem looked at him then. "Da says you're a spirit from the island of the dead," she said. "Sent by the ancestors."

"That would be news to me, if it's true," Devin said. She frowned at him.

"You wouldn't know how to do all these things if you didn't learn from the ancestors," she said confidently. "The dead know everything. It's how Aíbinn is so wise. She knows how to talk to them."

"Yeah? How does she do that?" Devin asked, curious. Fedlem sighed.

"It's a secret," she said sadly. "Da says she takes students, sometimes, but that I shouldn't want to be one. He says it's hard, to talk to the dead."

"But you want to anyway," Devin guessed. She grinned and nodded at him.

"I won't tell," he promised.

* * *​

Most of the túath turned out to help with the fire pit, and once it was going, it was treated like a bonfire. Devin kept a close watch on the pottery as bone whistles and skin drums appeared in hand and loud, merry music started. The impromptu party was full of dance and laughter, and games sprung up. More than a few sticks were lit on fire from the pit and carried away for games involving leaping over the branches, mostly done by young men in front of the girls. Conn told Devin it was to prove their bravery and fertility. Sadb rolled her eyes and told him it was to show off.

"It works," Conn said, unperturbed, and Devin laughed. Sadb rolled her eyes.

"You should have a turn," Conn told Devin.

"Oh, I uh. I have to watch the pots," Devin said, a little startled to be pushed into a social interactions. Besides, he was a good ten years older than everyone else involved, but he was babyfaced enough that he wasn't terribly surprised on that end.

Given Sadb's earlier disdain for the whole thing he'd expected her to tell Conn off, but instead she said, "There may be a girl who'd like to see it."

"Oh?" Devin said. "I thought you said it was showing off?"

"Well," she said, straightening her flax skirts, "Sometimes a girl likes to see a man show off, depending on the man." Conn smirked.

Devin glanced over at the group of young women watching their various sweethearts fire jumping and found one girl eying him. She looked away quickly when she saw him looking.

"...I am at least ten years older than she is," Devin said.

"That's attractive in a man," Sadb said.

"Being old?"

"Being mature."

"If you say so." Devin turned his attention back to the fire and asked, "Are you sure you ought to encourage her, considering I might be dead?" He was also a little surprised at the matchmaking considering the gender situation, but it seemed more reasonable to try and get a trans man a girlfriend than a dead man one.

Neither Conn nor Sadb answered him right away. "Fedlem," Conn muttered, turning to frown at his daughter, safely away and watching the musicians.

"I'm not mad. I'm honestly not sure you're wrong. It just doesn't seem like the kind of thing you'd want to marry?"

Conn and Sadb exchanged looks, like this was a more complicated question than Devin had thought. Or maybe it was only complicated by the fact that they thought he was some kind of powerful spirit, and didn't want to offend him.

“Well,” Conn said. “What better way to please a spirit than with a wife?”

“That’s kind of fucked up,” said Devin.

“Am I wrong?”

Devin could feel the girl looking at him again. He knew his face was flushing red.

“Go on,” Sadb said encouragingly.

“I have to watch the fire,” Devin said, a little more stiffly than he’d meant, turning back to it. He would rather not make a fool of himself already. That was the end of it, though it didn’t feel much like a victory. But Devin put it out of his mind.

His pots had all fired properly, only one of his cups suffering a crack. They were simple terracotta, nothing fancy, but they were a start. Fedlem squealed in delight when Devin presented her with the little bird, still warm from the fire. She cupped it in her hands.

"If I drop him he'll break?" she asked. Devin nodded and showed her the cup that had cracked in the fire.

"So you have to be gentle with him," he said.

"I can do that."

"I know you can," Devin assured her. "Wanna help me make more?"

* * *​

In the days and weeks that followed, Devin's self-impossed pottery curriculum expanded wildly. He learned where to find the best clay, and how to process sand out of it to make even finer clay. He experimented with fire pit set ups. And most of all he experimented with his clay techniques. Sometimes he worked alone. Most of the time though somebody interested came to see, and Devin would explain, usually with a great deal of enthusiasm, what he was doing and how he hoped it would work out. Usually Fedlem helped.

Sometimes it was Muirgel. She was the girl who had been watching him at that first fire pit. She was plain, and shy, and had a twisted leg that made walking difficult, but she had clever fingers and a quick laugh.

"It's a nice change of pace from spinning flax," Muirgel told him, when he'd awkwardly tried to say she didn't need to come help him so much, if she didn't want to. They sat at the edge of the camp, one of his larger terracotta pots filled with his latest experiment in processed clay nearby, while they worked on a teapot. Muirgel was entranced by the concept of a spout, and since Devin had never actually made one before they were both experimenting with ways to accomplish one. Devin had already convinced the túath that boiling water was a good an important benefit of having the various clay water vessels (evil spirits living in water that needed to be driven out by fire was the explanation that had most firmly taken route), but the spouts would be an extra level of usefulness, he thought. Tea wouldn't make its way to Ireland for quite some time, but there were plenty of other things that could be turned into tisanes. Like nettles. There were so many nettles.

"Did you come up with this idea yourself?" Muirgel asked, interrupting Devin's thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh. No. It's something my family had."

"Do you miss them?"

Devin nodded. "I do." He tried not to think about it too much. What was going on back home? Surely he'd been reported as missing. Had he been replaced at work? What did all his co-workers think? Where his parents holding it together? His siblings? Had the cute guy at the cafe he flirted with sometimes noticed he was gone?

He hadn't gotten to say goodbye to anybody.

Devin sighed and smoothed his spout onto the body of his latest pot with his fingers. "I don't think I'll see them again for a long time. If ever."

"I'm sorry," Muirgel said. She looked genuinely distressed at the thought.

"It could be worse," Devin said, and grinned at her. "At least I'm here."

 

[Rysesaka]

Jesiah Adams Norton
Chapter 1, Episode 3: A Cup of Justice and Mercy

​

Primordial, Jesiah's village territory
Ore Mountains, Central Europe (Czech-German border)
5 months later after Jesiah’s arrival
June 5000 BC (1 EIY)

Today Jesiah had to deal with his first really unpleasant responsibility as the de facto strongman/elder of the village; crime. He hadn't seen any of it in this little agricultural hamlet, but today some of the outlying pig herders had brought a man to Jesiah bound with sturdy ropes, demanding justice. Jesiah walked with them to the village square, an area where a central fire pit was used for ceremonies involving the coming of age and funerals. As they walked their harsh voices brayed of his crimes, how he had slaughtered one of their piglets and been caught roasting it over a spit fire just a short distance away from their hovel-farm. Jesiah did not recognize his face; upon inquiry he reluctantly admitted to being from Mara, the larger town to the east. At a gesture from Jesiah, a perfunctory snap of the hand, he was thrown down in the dirt in the center of Primordial. Judgement he would have to pass. Jesiah seated himself on an end of stone that would make for a chair, and nodded to the pig farmer, asking him to tell his tale in full.

It was pretty damning. A squealing noise around dawn, and all the pigs grunting together in panic. Fleeing footsteps. This man found roasting pig over a small fire, digging into the ribs even as the irate farmers came upon him. A piglet missing from the count, and a piglet found roasting. He was a haggard man, face pinched and drawn by hunger. He said he had merely been traveling in the region and eating breakfast when the farmers came upon him in anger, taking him for a thief. Jesiah’s eyes must have shown his disbelief, though, for he seemed to shrink in on himself even as the thief told the lie. No baggage had been found with him, or wares, or even a bow or axe as any reasonable traveler carried. For a man on a journey, he was very poorly equipped, JesiahI explained in tones of patience and curiosity. Around him, some of the villagers hooted at the supposition- the rogue had been caught in his lie. He merely hung his head, and mumbled something Jesiah couldn't catch. Jesiah got up, and hauled him to his feet in one smooth movement, his face at arm's length from mine. Jesiah asked his name.

"I am called Hamar, son of Hamath." he replied, the teeth of defiance in his voice. Some of Jesiah’s friends stirred, Peter among them. They did not think it becoming such scum to speak to their comrade, perhaps a gift of God, in such a manner. But Jesiah merely smiled, and then spoke aloud, casting his voice for all to hear.

"Hamar, son of Hamath, you are guilty of the theft of food, a grievous crime. You would take from those who raised that pig to fill your own belly, giving nothing in exchange." The crowd muttered, some eager; oftentimes the penalty for theft, Jesiah had been told, was death. Hamar had deprived another of the stuff of life, and so Hamar paid for that with his own. But that was not justice, not to Jesiah at least.

"So I sentence you to work for the village and the farmers you wronged, five years for the piglet you stole. You shall be fed, but not at your own leisure, and you shall work hard every day of your punishment or you shall be put to the sword. I condemn you to the chains until your debt is atoned. After five years you shall go free again, a man of your own." Many wondered at what Jesiah had said. They had little concept of servitude, or slavery, or working for another. Once Jesiah explained it though, the pig farmers seemed content. One of them confided to Jesiah that with five years of labor he could raise four dozen piglets for the one stolen. Hamar seemed almost weak with relief at having been spared from the next life.

Later that day Jesiah set about working at his forge, hammering lengths of bronze into lengths of chain for his hobble; Hamar would walk with slow steps to prevent him fleeing for the days of his sentence, and be chained up at the farmer's house at night. Hammer met stone atop Jesiah’s impromptu anvil, and at lengths Jesiah added the chains back to the charcoal coals to meld together where the joins were clear. It was justice, to atone for his crime, and mercy, not to slaughter him like a wild beast over a simple pig. He could scarcely blame him for his desperation, even as Jesiah fitted the shackles about the scarecrow's ankles. He was as gaunt as ever Jesiah had seen a man in this land. Apparently there was not enough food in Mara, not enough food for all men to be without want like here in Primordial.

Perhaps that could be changed.

Jesiah was no farmer, nor a water engineer. Jesiah’s province was metals and materials and structures, the love of his youth. But Jesiah knew what any 21st century yokel knew of irrigation and fertilizer, of crop rotation and tilling the soil. Much of the knowledge Jesiah took for granted these men did not even perceive as being an issue. The locals here just scattered their winter wheat wild upon the ground, and where it grew.. it grew. the same with their vegetables. Small wonder their subsistence agriculture would not feed them unless they hunted and fished to supplement it. Working with Peter's help, and the small ponies a farmer named Gessum loaned them, Jesiah brought back more crushed malachite ore from the high mine, carried in rough animal skin sacks. They had to be precariously balanced, a funny affair. These people had never heard of saddles, or saddle bags for that matter. Perhaps in the future Jesiah should address that, but not now. Admittedly, Jesiah was surprised to find horses here in Germany. Jesiah thought that they had been domesticated somewhere in Asia, but he suppose even in this era, useful animals were traded far and wide through informal networks. No matter, they simply meant Jesiah could carry more ore than otherwise feasible. This would be Jesiah’s most material intensive creation yet, aside from the spearheads and swords Jesiah had forged for the dozen men that functioned as community guards.

Out of the smelter the molten bronze came into Jesiah’s immense sand cast held together by wet clay. Jesiah gave it some time to cool, before carefully unearthing the immense wedge of bronze. Jesiah had asked some of the farmers to come meet him, and after a short demonstration of how the hoops on the side of the crude plow could hold ropes, they grasped the concept. Their eyes lit up with wonderment, and they smiled. It took four men to pull it at a reasonable speed, and Jesiah had to ask one of the woodworkers to fashion a primitive handle to allow Jesiah to guide it. But in the thick loamy soil of the region, it cut like a knife through butter, carefully upturned edges churning the soil into neat furrows for planting. Many of the agricultural workers had seen birds and beasts eat their seed, but planting each little potential growth in a hole, what they dug was simply too time consuming. With this bronze plow, they could grow many times as quickly as they had thought to do, and every seed properly planted at depth was far more likely to germinate than one carried off by the wildlife or baked dry and dead by the sun. It would be next spring before the winter wheat sprouted properly, but so many men clamored to use the plow that Jesiah had to ask them for payment in bushels of grain in order to limit the usage reasonably. Jesiah spent the next couple days forging bronze plows for those who wished them, and Jesiah heard the pig farmers made a good amount of trade allowing others to use Hamar to pull their plows on the days when he did not work for the village. An agreeable state of affairs.

Jesiah had his own plans for Hamar though, not that he particularly liked them. Jesiah’s efforts to regularly wash upstream from the village and his good health had convinced many to join him in washing away from the filth. Now Jesiah had begun to make progress on changing that practice altogether. Night soil, the polite term for the shit of several hundred villagers, had more use than merely dumping in a hole in the ground. Jesiah’s explanation was necessarily silly and convoluted. One couldn't talk about vitamins and minerals and all that, for the Germanics had no conception of the term. All the same, they understood that their bodies got food from eating food, and one expelled waste after eating. From there it was easy enough to explain that new food grew best when supplied with dead food. After all, one begat the other. Hamar was the unfortunate victim of Jesiah’s scheme. Chamber-pots, as crude as they were, were a thing Jesiah got several villagers to use instead of the traditional method. They were easy enough to make from stoneware. The criminal had the unenviable task of picking up chamber pots in the morning of the days he worked for Jesiah, and hauling them out to one of the village fields to dump. Not one being sown, but one fallow. Over time, Jesiah hoped it would decompose into rich fertilized soil, and at the same time make the stream less polluted with filth. Jesiah had gotten across to the villagers the concept of noxious fumes causing sickness, so they tried to stay away from the stream when taking care of the call of nature. But some were just set in their ways. Time would have to do the job Jesiah’s words could not.

After such a busy month, Jesiah eventually set out for Mara, riding with some of the village lads and hotblooded tribesmen wearing bronze breastplates and helmets of his own design. It was time to secure a more steady supply of tin than melting down pots made of its ore.

 

[ShinGeorgeTownRaja]

Act 4
Eddy "Ed" Pak
Location: Zalantun, Inner Mongolia, China
Mood: Normal, happy, a little homesick
Outfit: Full fur clothing
Date: January, 5000 BCE

As soon as Ed got dressed, he soon left the brown yurt and he went outside. To his right was a black horse from before. Surprised and curious, he wondered how the horse managed to get to this point when he was unconscious at first. To his left was Khulan, standing and waiting for Ed. Smiling and nodding, she was looking forward to taking him on a tour around the yurt-filled village.

"Are you ready to meet our chieftain, uh, Ed?"

"Yeah, I'm ready. Say, how did my horse get here while I was unconscious?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention it, did I? I brought it with me and fed him some food during it. Don't worry, he has been taken care of, so you really shouldn't worry too much about it. Everything is fine now."

"I see. Understood then."

"Well then, let's get going, shall we?"

While walking throughout the village with Khulan, Ed couldn't believe how many yurts there were in comparison to the ones he was at before when he was imprisoned. Filled with hundreds of yurts with green designs and a considerable number of people, he had a hunch that it was more than a small village even though it technically wasn't. Of course, he had a question in mind regarding the matter.

"Say, how come there are a lot of people here? I haven't seen anything like this before, especially compared to a village or town."

"Welcome to Naranbaatar Village, Ed. The people here are all related to Chieftain Temüülen. Pretty amazing, right?"

"Oh wow, no wonder. That's quite a huge family you got there, um, Khulan. How is that even possible, though?"

"I don't know. I guess it has something to do with Tengri introducing humanity and nature to this world. But as for you, Ed, you're part of the family too and so does everybody else. As long as they pledge allegiance to the chieftain, everybody can become one. Yes, including you. Anyway, the bottom line is, you're always welcome here."

"Oh, that's honorable for you to say, I guess. I understand now."

"Hey look, we're almost there," said Khulan, pointing to a large yurt.

"Wow, it's a big yurt," Ed said in awe.

"I know, right? Well, let's head in, shall we?"

Ed and Khulan entered the big yurt where Chieftain Temüülen resided. Once they were inside, there were two men on both sides armed with bows and arrows (not to mention, they were wearing fur Mongol-esque caps) and an elderly man who had black eyes but he wore a wooden mask that resembled the sun and his green attire was made out of fur. As he could be seen sitting on a throne, Ed and Khulan stood up straight and gave them full attention in respect before he began speaking happily.

"Ah, Khulan, my niece. Where have you been? And who is that stranger you have with you? A newcomer, perhaps?"

"Certainly, Uncle Temüülen. A few days ago, I happened to stumble upon him and his horse, so I took them for safety even before the winter storm came. Also, he was unconscious, so that's why. His name is Ed or, well, Eddy Pak. His name is so strange and interesting, you know."

"Yeah, that's me. It's a pleasure to meet you, Chieftain Temüülen. I'm looking forward to joining this clan and hope for the best."

"Hm, I see. Were you attacked by the Batbayar clan?"

"Um, yes, I was, but they didn't hurt or torture me. You mean the horsemen, right? They imprisoned me for no reason because I was trespassing on their territory, so they took me to, if I'm not mistaken, Batbayar Village, and tied me up for a brief moment until someone, I think it was a teenage girl, freed me and I escaped the village afterward. But the question is, how did I get transported back in time to this place? What was the cause of it? I mean, I can't seem to remember what I was doing before I got here. Well, I have nothing more to say and there's nothing that can't be fixed, so I guess that's the end for me."

"Is that so? Where are you from, young man?"

"I'm from Hong Kong, a city that used to be part of the British Empire but has been under Chinese control since 1997."

What Ed didn't realize was that Chieftain Temüülen and Khulan didn't come from the modern period. Instead, they belonged to the Neolithic period, something that he was barely familiar with. He knew a little bit about it, but if it wasn't for him dropping out of high school, then things would've made much more sense and simpler for him.

"Hong Kong, huh? To be frank, I have never heard of it. What about you, Khulan?"

"Nope, never heard of it. Is it a clan?"

"Uh, yes. It is a clan," Ed said, a white lie.

"Ah, understood. Were you exiled?"

"Oh certainly. It was horrible. They treated me like an outcast as well as a slave and they kicked me out of their clan for falsely committing a murder against my youngest sister," Ed, again, said a white lie.

"Oh my, how ruthless they were..." Khulan muttered in sympathy.

"Yeah, it was..."

"Yes, I see. Well then, you'll be more than happy to become a part of this clan if you like. Heck, you can even stay here forever if you so desire. After all, we only value letting in newcomers to help grow our clan while providing our hospitality to them. However, I have no clear answer regarding your questions but I assume that you probably ended up in this area from a far away place, right?"

"I guess so. Come to think of it, Khulan assigned me to a job. Surely, I have no idea what it will be."

"That's true, Uncle," Khulan smiled.

"Ah, that'll be wonderful! I'll give you a higher salary if you work hard enough. Wait, you know what, if you work hard enough, I might assign you to something special and different instead. What do you say, young man?" the chieftain chuckled.

"That would be an honor, Chieftain. Thank you so much. I really appreciate it."

"Considering that your name sounds foreign to us, how about we call you Tanikh from now on, yes? That way, the people here won't have a difficult time trying to pronounce it. It's just that the name sounds like it might be from a different language or something like that."

Unknown to Ed, Tanikh (which is the short-form version of tanikhgüi khün) meant "stranger" in Mongolian. He thought of it as a cool-sounding name to him, so he didn't complain about it.

"Sure, I don't mind people calling me by that name," Ed nodded in agreement.

"Excellent! Well, it was nice meeting you. I hope you enjoy your life and stay here. Welcome to Naranbaatar Village, Tanikh. And, of course, welcome to the family!"

"Thank you, Chieftain. We should take our leave now."

"Yes, yes, take care," Temüülen waved goodbye to Ed and Khulan.

"I'll show you where your first job is next," said Khulan, guiding Ed to a nearby irrigation section.




Rare within the proto-Mongol culture, it was uncommon for irrigation to be essential to society as they tended to rely heavily on animal husbandry, especially when it came to goats and horses. But as for the Naranbaatar clan, though, they were lucky enough to have access to the Yalu River to be used for irrigation, something that the barbaric Batbayar clan pretty much lacked and they were even unaware of its existence. Ed was very lucky to be in this position. If he was to remain with the Batbayar clan for a lengthy period of time via Stockholm syndrome instead, then things would've been far different and worse. There, the irrigation area was filled with food crops (wheat) and there were people working in the fields. Many hours passed and Khulan managed to teach Ed the ways of farming, animal husbandry, and hunting, but each of them were brief and it was just the beginning for him.

"So, do you understand what I taught you so far, Tanikh?"

"Yeah, I get it now. I'm ready to join the workforce."

"Great. I wish you the best of luck with your progress. As your temporary helper, I'll assist you in completing tasks as I, too, have a job."

"I see. I guess I'm going to get some rest first and then I'll begin working the following day. That's my plan and schedule from now on."

"Very well. I'll see you around then, okay?"

Once Khulan left Ed alone, he felt a sign of hope and acceptance into a heartwarming, primitive community. He hadn't felt anything like it before in his whole life and it was a good feeling. Before he came here, his family and friends despised him because of an alleged bad omen, but it wasn't technically true. It was a matter of time for his life to get better after being accepted into tribal society and, as a famous saying from a popular Disney song, it's a small world after all. Until then, Ed's destiny and purpose in achieving greatness and popularity within himself and others and the desire to explore the Neolithic world had begun.

 

[NekoQueen49]

Liliana Brooks
Location: Lake Michigan, Northeast America
Date: January 1st, 5000bce​

Chapter 1

The first thing Liliana felt upon waking was the cold. Her body racked with shivers in the fetal position even before she opened her eyes. When she did, a white expanse greeted her, broken by the dark trees. Most were coniferous but there were a few that showed bare branches in the midst of the snowy landscape.

Speaking of bare, the only thing that gave her the tiniest bit of shelter from the snow falling from the sky was her long hair that didn't seem to make a lick of difference in the freezing temperature. With a small gasp, her arms quickly hugged her torso for some semblance of modesty and protection against the cold. Liliana's head whipped frantically around in search of something, anything. In truth she herself didn't know what she was looking for. Shelter? Her clothes? The reason why she was there in the first place? So many thoughts flooded her head that she couldn't make sense of herself. It just culminated into a general sense of frenzied panic. Was it that panic that made her shoot up to her feet? Or was it the general sense of the forest floor adding to her frostbite? Maybe it was a mixture of both. Either way, Liliana was up faster than she had ever been before. Usually she would have stayed prone, paralyzed by her thoughts of what to do next, but in this situation her priority was clear: Find some sort of clothing.

Her feet burned with every soft crunch of snow that her steps made. Liliana had hoped that movement would make the freezing weather more tolerable, but it only seemed to add to her misery. Her eyes pricked with tears that threatened to fall. She would have thought that the outlandish situation had to have been a dream if it didn't make her feel so much pain. Her dreams were never so vivid anyways so that theory didn't stay for more than a couple of seconds. Even so, Liliana didn't wish for anything as much as she wished for this to be a strange, really realistic dream.

Moving forward was slow progress. The thought of making a fire occurred to her but dismissed it on the grounds that she had no idea how to reliably make one without some type of match or lighter. Besides, Liliana knew enough that making one in these circumstances: ie, snowing (thus making the wood and the ground wet by proxy) would be difficult if not impossible for her. Sure, she's watched survival shows but that was years ago during a time that she was barely paying attention. Liliana doubted that her method of rubbing two sticks together would provide her the results she desired.

It was during these mournful thoughts that Liliana would have been able to see a figure moving if she had been paying attention. But of course, she wasn't. The unknowing Author was too busy looking at her cherry red feet while wallowing in self-pity. It was only when another pair of feet came into view that she halted in her tracks. Unlike her own, they were covered in a pale brown material which instantly invoked an automatic jealousy alongside the panic.

Her eyes shot up, meeting his dark ones. His equally dark hair was tied back. But it was his clothes that drew Liliana's attention the most. Instead of a puffy winter coat as she would have expected, he was wearing some sort of poncho that fell to his knees made of the same pale brown material as his shoes, interlaced with a sort of striped design of black and white and long tassels hanging from the edges. They stared at each other for some time, neither party knowing what to make of each other, until Liliana couldn't stand the burning in her feet anymore. "D-d-do yyy-y-you hav-hav-ve an-an-a-any sss-sh-shoeess? Pl-please?" The chattering of her teeth made it hard to speak. She didn't even know if he would be able to understand her, so Liliana shuffled her feet to drive home the point. Actually, the numbness that shot up to her thighs with the motion was very disconcerting.

At the sound of her voice breaking the silence that previously hung heavy in the air, the man before her jolted as if an invisible electric shock ran through him. His heels rocked against the ground once before seemingly coming to a decision in his internal debate. At the same time of closing the distance between the two, the man removed his outer clothing to reveal the long-sleeved tunic and leggings underneath before pulling it over Liliana's head. It smelled strongly of something she couldn't identify. Sort of musty but that didn't fully explain it. "I have no shoes for you here. But this is better than nothing," was his clipped reply. He sounded angry and Liliana didn't know why. Was it because he had to give up his coat to a stranger?

"T-th-th-than-thank y-y-yyyouuu..." Even after her expression of gratitude, it only seemed to further irritate him Liliana guessed based on how a vein popped out in his neck.

"Why are you left out in the cold... like this?" His eyes glanced down at her feet to punctuate his point.

The only response Liliana could muster was a tiny shrug. She was more focused on hugging the coat close to her frame to prevent the wind from traveling up the bottom.

The man sighed, glancing back from where his tracks lead from. "Come. We have a fire where you can warm yourself."

Liliana nodded gratefully and followed behind the man as he led her away.

 

[Mitheral]

Jonathan Rhand​

Kadıköy
Day 45
5000 BCE
Average Temp 44 F

Jon and Sabina arrived in Kadıköy with a wagon pulled by an ox, two pack goats, and a cow. They had extra wheels, an assortment of tools, cooking ware, and supplies. Jon’s archery had begun to improve - and he had even begun to teach Sabela, which was something else that was improper. Jon told her he didn’t care and that he preferred that she be able to protect herself if he was absent. In the evenings he had begun to teach her how to read and write. He quickly learned to keep the lessons very short.

Kadıköy had a light covering of snow when they arrived. It was mid February, so times would be tough for a while, Jon suspected. He estimated the population to be around 2000 scattered over 10 square miles. These people had granaries at least. So he hoped they were stocked. From the moment he arrived the people there seemed to know who he was. He soon found himself the subject of their attention.

The problem with all the attention was the fact that he needed to get himself established first and take care of his family. But he handled the matter with a little diplomacy. He had found himself approached by over a dozen men. Some were asking about the rock samples, some about using the molds, some about why all the need for wood and rope. One of the men made the mistake of giving Sabela some negative attention.

“This is a discussion for men, not women!”

Sabela turned to leave. Jon reached back and snagged her arm. Then he introduced her. “This is my wife, Sabela. She is welcome at my side. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say to her - politely please. She may remember the questions you ask, the requests you make, when I cannot. Don’t worry, I have something in mind to help with that problem. I am going to teach you all how to male paper. Then I will teach you reading, writing and mathematics. I know those words are strange. But consider this. If I can make marks on paper, I do not have to remember them. I can go back and see the marks. Knowing what the marks mean will remind me. Do you not make art that tells tales?” He watched as some of the men nodded. “Well, I have been showing Sabela how to make paper. It is slow laborious work. You won’t have time for it. We will need to teach others. It will become a new trade skill.”

Another man, an elder, spoke up. He clearly commanded a little respect. But there was something about him that made Jon become cautious. “The men who told us of your coming said that some believe that you were sent by the gods.”

Jon actually relaxed a little and smiled. “Ahh .. so someone said that someone else said, that another one believes that …” He stopped and laughed. “You know, I demonstrated this effect back in Ti-Sumurna. I started with one person and whispered to them. They in turn whispered to another. By the time we got to the last person the difference in start and end messages were pretty funny.

“But to answer your question seriously, I don’t know. I do not know how I got here. I am from far, far from there in a very different place where we had much knowledge. I am merely sharing that knowledge as best I can in hopes to offer you ways to improve life. Better tools, better food storage, better agriculture, better and faster transportation. In a way I am the bringer of fire - or rather the one who is willing to show you how to make a hotter fire.”

The elder narrowed his eyes at Jon but said nothing. Jon sounded like a trickster. But the younger men seemed interested in learning what Jon had to offer.

Joon soon began to outline his plans. First, he needed to establish a home. The rest of Sabela’s family was coming. He would need to inspect the kiln used by the village. He suspected that he would need to build a better kiln. He was going to need to build large hutches fr the rabbits. He was going to build a plow, maybe two. They didn’t know what a plow was. He was going to build an irrigation system. He was going to teach them agriculture, how to make fertilizer.

Then he explained a great project that he wanted to build - a ship. To do that he would need to create a lumber mill. To create the lumber mill he would need a cutting edge forged from a metal their forge couldn’t extract, because it wasn't hot enough. And he would be producing so much more than their kilns could likely produce that he would need the new kiln. To temper and harden the metal he would have to create quenches.

“I was only an apprentice. So I am going to have to experiment. But I understand what I am doing in a way that most smiths do not. In time I would have become the teacher of my mentors. It is my honest hope that you will teach me, fill in the gaps in my knowledge. Never be afraid to make a suggestion. I may not agree. I may try it my way anyway, and be forced to admit you were right.” He laughed a little. “It is the only way a good student can learn sometimes. You have to let them make mistakes.”

Primitive copper smelting video
(OOC: This video gives an idea of Early Copper extraction technology, done with several experimental mixes and times. The natives will already have the best mixes. It does NOT show how there are different grades of malachite because of impurities.)

“Some of the first things we will pour will be an anvil, hammers, tongs, knives, chisels, steel balls, and crushers. They will all be poor grades and get replaced later. But imagine an axe so hard and sharp that it can easily cut through your copper in a single blow.

“Oh .. and if I can remember which rock is cassiterite - tin ore - I will introduce you to bronze. Much easier to melt, cast and work, but still too soft for a lumber mill. Oh .. and zinc. That will give you brass.

“Oh … we will need a few different types of gloves. Heavy gloves for working metals. In fact, for my work I will need a heavy apron. You all will if you work iron. We will need some light gloves for working with fishing and foraging. I am going to introduce you all to some new foods. Medium gloves will be for everything else. I will show you the furs to use.

“We are going to need to create outhouses - until we have indoor plumbing. But I have a special way I want to build them. There will be a bin that collects the waste that we can hook up for an ox to tow away to a mulch pit - downwind. We will use similar pits to throw away any other animal waste. We may have to fence that off.”

Someone interrupted him. “What are rabbits?”

Jon lost his train of thought for a moment. “Rabbits. Furry, hop around?” He drew a picture of one on the ground. He got a bunch of blank looks. He was a little confused at that. Then it hit him that Angoras might have been bred from imported rabbits. He seemed to recall that rabbits weren’t native to Australia. So maybe they were common here? “Well, that sucks. Rabbits are like four legged Tribbles. They breed like crazy. Of course, they are worse than goats for eating any vegetation in sight and a lot harder to contain. Maybe not the best idea I ever had.”

(OOC: Sorry Jon, rabbits were a non native species that originated in Southern Europe (Spain) and North Africa. Might have been a few in Anatolia.)

Days 45 - 90
Average Temp 50 F

The next month and a half started out sluggish as they were still in the months of winter. Within two weeks he had a workforce of 200. By Spring that rose to over 1000.

He started with the simple things: wheels, tools, clay and paper. Tools included ox carts, a vastly upgraded kiln, their first plows, a lathe, a grindstone, chisels, and a wire drawing table.

He had arrived in the village with a prized propeller made of copper. It worked fine for copper and the silvery copper alloy that contained arsenic. It also managed bronze and brass. But he wasn’t impressed with bronze. He soon realized that he would need a hotter fire. Pleated bellows were how the Iron Age began. But making one of those was what he considered a pain in the ass.

So he skipped right past that and constructed a blower. He demonstrated a gear system that magnified his work effort to get rpms. In his mind the system was still inefficient. He imagined how much better it would work with steel gears and chains or proper belts.

Iron Age
His first iron came not from hematite, but pyrite. Pyrite was generally considered worthless, but that was the opinion of men looking for gold. Granted hematite was the better ore. But he had a use for the byproduct that would become the start of his chemical reagent stockpile.

The first pour of iron was to make chisels, a smith hammer, and the iron components of the plows. He had wanted to make an anvil and sword. But he could manage without the anvil. And a sword was just a thing of vanity. He could make those once the real supply of ore arrived.

Plows would allow the village to prepare for planting. But he wanted to introduce managed crops, fertilizer, and irrigation. He realized a bit late that they didn’t likely have the best grain stores. They thought he was crazy for plowing twice the land they would ever plant. But he explained that that was for next year. He just wanted to prepare the land.

He managed another two pours. But, in truth, all three yields were horrible. Even with the blower he was barely making temperature and going through a LOT of charcoal to do it. He was beginning to understand the folly of using pyrite which took a much higher temperature to melt than hematite. And he needed coal.

Fortunately he was lucky. Turkey was extremely rich in coal. He knew of two sources. There were dozens, but these were the only two he figured he might realistically find. One was in southeastern Turkey. Easy to find. Go to a place called Mersin. Go east a little ways and follow a river inland. There was a vast field of lignite on the surface. Lignite sucked. The other source was east along the shore of the Black Sea about 150 miles then inland about 15 miles .. and then down. That mineshaft was going to be rough. But that deposit was supposed to be better - Bituminous. Jon didn’t think much of this type of coal. What he didn’t realize was that it was the coal of choice for smithing.

He mass produced clay to make permanent tablets with letters of their new alphabet. He brought together representatives from each of the villages in the area, mostly elders. Once they decided on symbols he created two permanent tablets of that letter for each village. He did the same for numbers, introducing base 10, the concept of zero, and basic arithmetic operators.

He initiated the beginnings of sewage management starting with outhouses. They were built raised on footers so that a large box to catch waste could be placed underneath. An ox could pull the box to a mulch pit outside town. People had thought he was crazy for taking time to use pitch to seal the bottom and sides watertight.

It wasn’t all fun and games. Most of his first chisel set failed and had to be reworked as he struggled to work out the processes of quenching, tempering, annealing, and hardening. He realized that he would need a lot more ore.

Hard work, but by Spring he was ready to expand mining, start a lumber mill, introduce an educational system, and get ready to domesticate the horse. The lathe had sped up the process of turning wheels and gears. It was also a stepping stone to the creation of the lumber mill.

Day 90

Glass had been introduced. The problems he ran into there were transparency, melting points, and shaping. He was a little nervous about blowing glass. He had watched it being done. Intellectually he knew how to make the right glass. He had even made his own glass tools in chemistry. But that had been with manufactured Pyrex.

Bronze was slowly becoming the new fad. If they had had a greater supply of ore a Bronze Age would have kicked off. But without steel tools, drills, and explosives to mine with, it was slow going at first. Still, all he needed was a few tons of ore to get things started. While he was getting agriculture off to a great start, he had miners out digging by the dozens.

Within a day of recognizing that he needed coal and that it was all but unobtainable, he had a plan for doing the impossible. All he needed was enough iron to make a large spoked weight, some lumber to create a siege device, rope and pulleys. He was going to use the technique of an oil drill.

He knew about the Roman technique of fire setting. That was slow going at best (average of about 1.4 meters per day). Jon’s methods would easily speed this up. But any method was going to be dangerous.

 

[Mitheral]

Jonathan Rhand​

Kadıköy
Day 90
5000 BCE
Average Temp 48 F

Jonathan’s choice for the hull of his ship was a catamaran. He didn’t really know that much about ships - other than having one sink under him. That had been a wooden boat too, probably mahogany. He didn’t have much available in mahogany. So he settled for straight grain wood.

He chose the catamaran for stability and speed. It was so stable that crossing the ocean was a real possibility. He aimed for size so that he would have room for his family and space to store supplies. With paper now available he set to work drafting a deck plan. He started with the living area. A 1200 square foot home sounded about right. 30 x 40. Add in a garden. Ugh … a barn. (Did he really want to bring the animals?). He needed to discuss that with Sabela. And if her family insisted on coming along …

Dinner
The family reunion was a wonderful thing. Telip couldn’t stop talking about watching Jon run a whole tree lengthwise on a giant rotating blade to slice it into boards. The saw was Jon’s greatest achievement yet. Jon claimed to be disappointed.

“The steel is inferior. But it is the best we can make for now. The chisels keep breaking. I am used to tungsten carbide. Still, I have been showing everyone how I built it. I explain that they can do better. They just have to try different ways. I showed them how to make glass. Yesterday a young man came to me with a very clear glass. He just kept trying different things and stumbled on a mix.

“Anyway, there is a matter I want to discuss. And I prefer that Sabela and all the women remain for this and feel free to speak up.” He paused to catch the eyes of Telip’s wife and sister, nodding respectfully. “I am about to begin construction of a ship - several ships actually. Most will be for the villages here - and Ti-Sumurna, I hope. One will be for the merchant who helped me. One will be for me.”

Jon hesitated. “The problem is that the space aboard a ship is limited. I can make space for Sabela. Her ox, pack goat and such are going to be hard to maintain on a ship. Partly we’d have trouble with feed. The animals won’t like the sea. And they require a lot of space.”

Telip saw where the conversation was headed. “Making space for the rest of her family - us - and our herd - would be too much.”

“It would take a massive ship - an ark - and years of time. I have done the math. With as many people as I have willing to help it will take about 5 months to build. That is a great feat. And I may adjust the plans in a way that makes it take a little longer. Very honestly, I may be overestimating the ability of the villagers - and myself. Shaped, interlocking boards. Overlapping cross grain. Drilling holes, Wooden dowels for nails - iron, bronze and copper corrode. Wood does not. Sails, anchors. Just so many things to make. Plus there are the living quarters. I hope it will be done by harvest. But I may end up sticking around to the next planting season. That’s a year away.

“By next Spring we should have hard coal. It won’t be a really good coal. Coal is a rock that burns. The problem is, getting to it will be very dangerous. I’m not sure I can convince anyone to try. If we can get enough iron ore, it will be worth it. I have shown them how to smelt the iron. And they know we will have to experiment.”

Telip looked dubious. Jon’s plans were beyond his understanding. “Does the town know yet?”

“No!” Sabela cut in. She sounded a little cross.

Jon looked embarassed. “Well, I have touched on some of the ideas. Food, clothing and shelter are the priorities for the villages. I am aware of that. My ships can wait if needed.”

Telip’s wife brought up another subject. “And what of children?”

Jon flushed and for a moment was speechless. “Uhm, uhm …”

Sabela piped up. “It’s a work in progress!”

 

[Mitheral]

Jonathan Rhand​

Kadıköy (Future Constantinople aka Istanbul)
Day 90 - 120 (Spring)
5000 BCE
Average Temp 48 F

Agriculture
Planting season was a learning experience. The natives didn’t really know western agriculture. But they did understand a vast reduction in labor required to turn the soil and plant. Jon discovered that they grew crops he had no understanding of. One staple of their diet was lentils. He tried to apply his knowledge and kept getting denied. It was a minor blow to his ego, but they were so sure he was wrong that he stopped and listened. He had to admit he had never grown lentils. As it turned out, these people really did understand crop rotation. And they had planted back in Fall after the other harvests. Lentils were a winter crop. As soon as the snow melted the plants started to sprout. He would eventually learn that lentils were a lot like black eyed peas - only producing less. He had picked and shelled more bushels of black eyed peas than he cared to recall. By the end of the year he would understand the crop far better.

Language
Teaching the alphabet and basic numbers to these people was painstakingly slow among the adults. But he had expected this and already had a solution. Kids learned fast. He taught the children the same way he had learned - with the alphabet song and pictures of things that began with the sounds of the letters. The second wave of best students were the women, especially mothers. He managed to keep the men from getting too upset about that by explaining that mothers would spend more time with the children growing up and would be more active in teaching them while young. It made sense.

Spoiler: ”Cubit”

The royal cubit (524 mm or 20.62 inches) was subdivided in an extraordinarily complicated way. The basic subunit was the digit, doubtlessly a finger’s breadth, of which there were 28 in the royal cubit. Four digits equaled a palm, five a hand. Twelve digits, or three palms, equaled a small span. Fourteen digits, or one-half a cubit, equaled a large span. Sixteen digits, or four palms, made one t’ser. Twenty-four digits, or six palms, were a small cubit.

The digit was in turn subdivided. The 14th digit on a cubit stick was marked off into 16 equal parts. The next digit was divided into 15 parts, and so on, to the 28th digit, which was divided into 2 equal parts. Thus, measurement could be made to digit fractions with any denominator from 2 through 16. The smallest division, 1/16 of a digit, was equal to 1/448 part of a royal cubit.

Once the men finally had the basics down it was time to teach units of measure, starting with length. They already had a concept of the cubit, just not a standardized one. He hated the idea of inflicting the cubit system on them. But they needed a standard. He also introduced the inch. The cubit would be for ship and house building. The inch would be used in printing.

“Okay, it is time to teach you guys fractions. Okay … who can tell me how much half of one is?” He held up a finger. He was met with the sound of crickets. So he folded a finger over to show half a finger. “One half. Okay,” he held up two fingers. “Half of two?” Again silence. He covered one finger to show the one and got a response.

“One!”

“Good! Now half of three?” He held up three fingers.

One smart aleck younger man spoke up. “One plus a broken finger” The response was accompanied by snickers among the men.

Jon himself gave a bright grin and laughed. “Well, something to remember. There is often more than one way to answer a question. Good answer. But unfortunately not the one we were looking for this time.” He laughed again anyway. “One and …..”

“A half,” the men chorused.

“I still like the broken finger answer, but yes one and a half is correct. I can assure you that this fraction stuff will become useful.”

He eventually introduced the inch. “Now there are 72 points in one inch. The reason for this is that 72 can be divided evenly in so many ways. 2,3,4,6,8,12,18,24, and 36. We are going to create a group of molds to cast lead type in. These must be as exact as possible in units we will call a font. A 72 point font would be in letters and numbers an inch tall. The 36 point font is half an inch tall. Now you know partly why fractions are important. Until we can produce better paper and ink we will use an 18 point font.”

“A quarter of an inch,” Sabela murmured.

Jon turned to look at her a little wide eyed. That had come as a surprise, a pleasant one. He gave a barely supressed grin and nodded. He didn’t want to over congratulate her in front of others.

He began the process of teaching them how to create lead type. Molds scratched into clay, with removeable sides. They had to be as perfect as possible, shaved if necessary. He made spacers, trays, and even had them create a tray to store type.

He had learned to use a pilot and platen press in 9th grade. The platen press was a monster that terrified him. The pilot press was the smaller manual version. It was slower, but safer. Unfortunately even that was beyond his means. Until precision lathing of metals was possible his options were limited. So he went with the table press which was even slower. Without clamps to hold a page of typeset it would have to do. It didn’t have to be perfect. It just had to be good enough to demonstrate the advantages. If they really wanted better, they could make their own improvements. The advantages he sought were basic textbooks to teach language and math.

Day 120-180
The next breakthrough came when a small group of men returned to Kadıköy with rock samples. One of the samples they brough was orange-red. To them it looked like hematite. They were pretty close. Jon had the samples tested by trying an extraction process on a small scale. Then he used a lodestone to test the result and was rewarded with a clink as the magnetic properties were demonstrated. It wasn’t the richest source. But it may as well have been as it was from close by and on the ground. The men had found it using a compass he had made as the ore was ferromagnetic.

Meanwhile Jon had sent a team of 30 men to the Zonguldak Basin. It was a gamble. He warned the men of the dangers - air, collapse, etc. He wanted to go himself, but he was needed for too many projects at home. The men were sent with oxen and four of the first carts - with extra wheels, lots of rope and what he called “drill bits”. The drilling system was more like a vertical siege engine. In the field of mining there was no historical equivalent. The closest thing would have been an oil drilling rig or a giant piledriver. The bits were made of steel and shaped like an inverted pyramid. It was guided by something similar to an inverted oil rig held by a regular oil rig frame. The drill bits were backed up with bags of sand for weight, lifted up by rope, pulleys and manpower. With each impact the drill bit was turned 1/8th of a turn (45 degrees). Broken rock was lifted up in small carts in a dumbwaiter type system by oxen.

He had trained the men in shoring up any tunnels in a small scale with something he called Lincoln Logs. He had had a set of Lincoln Logs as a child. They had been one of his favorite toys. He knew that would come in handy?

They had blazed a trail so that a relief team could find them. They sent back runners with reports of depth. Jon was shocked at the pace. They were outpacing Romans. Granted it took more men. Jon felt certain they would reach the coal - if there was any - within 3 months of their start.

Day 180
They hit pay dirt. Bituminous coal. Their first shipment was all he needed.

Jon’s drawing table had been completed for a while now. He had been slowly creating copper wire. While he had no great use for it yet, he would eventually use it to create his first arc furnace. His first attempts to create refractory bricks had mostly ended in failures. His cement mixes were okay. But his clay needed work. But he had a dozen women making clay. He had considered the use of aerogel, but the synthesis of aerogel required synthesizing other things which, in turn, ultimately were made practical with the use of an electric arc furnace - the very thing he was trying to reach. It was enough to make him want to beat his head on a wall.

The villages were starting to grow in wealth. Some of their manufactured products had begun to sell in other villages. The demand was bringing merchants back for more.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Devin Murphy

Location: Dingle Peninsula, Munster, Ireland
Date: March-April, 5000 BCE
Weather: low 50s, cloudy and slightly less rainy

"Okay, so this is not the only reason I made all the pots but it was definitely part of it," Devin said, to a dubious Fedlem and an intrigued Muirgel as he filled the bottom of one of his very large terracotta pots with pebbles. It was resting on two large rocks, with a smaller pot underneath it, where liquid could drain out from holes in the bottom. The big pot would have made a rather nice planter for a small tree. Ideally, for what he had in mind, he should have been doing this with a barrel, but his woodworking skills were not up to the challenge, so pot it was. "Fedlem, will you pass me the straw?"

She did so, frowning at him. Calling it straw was generous: the túath hadn't made the move into farming yet, so his straw was just wild grasses that he had gathered and dried while they had watched in both amusement and some anticipation. Now he laid it down on top of his layer of pebbles, before putting down ash. Hardwood ash: beech and oak, mostly. And then, pouring slowly, he added just enough rainwater to completely cover the ashes, and then waited for the water to filter through the layers and into the smaller pot.

"What is this supposed to do?" Fedlem asked, peering into the smaller pot.

"Don't touch it," Devin warned. "There is a chemical--an essence? A spirit?" he tried, when she frowned at him, "In the ashes, that the fire made from the wood, and when the rain comes through it, it catches it, and then we can use it to make things. It's called lye."

"What kind of things?"

Devin smiled. "We're going to make soap."

"I don't know what that is," Fedlem said in exasperation.

"I have a feeling we're going to find out very soon," Muirgel said. Devin winked at her.

Having no way to test the lye's pH, Devin ran the water over the ashes three times, just to be sure. For fat, he was using boar fat from the latest hunt, heated in another pot in a fire made from only part of his big clay firing pit. Once the boar fat was heated to liquid state, he carefully poured lye in, and then started mixing.

And kept mixing.

Muirgel took over and mixed for a while. Then he did again. Fedlem took a turn, with strict instructions to keep her hands well away from the hot liquid. After a little over an hour of stirring until, when Muirgel lifted the carved stick they were using to stir the soap, it left a thick track down the stick. Devin's mold was an extremely basic one of wooden pieces scavenged from a recent logboat building session tied together with strips of leather, but it would do the job, he thought, as they poured the soap in.

A day later, unmolded, Devin could tell the soap wasn't quite right, but it worked well enough to show everyone what he'd meant to do. With more of the túath interested in what they were doing, he was sure it wouldn't take long until they got a decent recipe figured out.

***​

Despite the medieval Gaelic system of fosterage not existing yet, within the túath Devin had been folded mostly into Conn and Sadb's family unit, and more than once he'd heard himself called their foster son. Practically, this mostly meant that Devin slept in the same big tent as their family, and probably that if anyone decided he was doing something very stupid they'd tell Conn first so he could deliver the telling off. It was an arrangement that worked for Devin, though he was very sure neither Conn nor Sadb were actually old enough to be his parents.

This did mean, when he found blood on his inner thighs one day, he had somebody to go to. "I didn't miss you," he muttered, wiping it off. He'd figured his period would make a return at some point, now that he didn't have access to testosterone, but he didn't have to like it.

Sadb gave him scrap fabric to use as a pad, and suggested her method, which involved wrapping the fabric around a stick as a sort of proto-tampon. He wouldn’t be able to make anything much better, he realized in slow horror. They didn’t have sheep yet, for wool, and the climate was all wrong for growing cotton.

“I would rather bleed all over myself,” Devin told her, and she laughed.

“Well. Welcome back to the living,” she said. Devin made a face, and she laughed again.

***​

Aíbinn found him a month later, sitting in the sand while Fedlem and her siblings and several other children chased each other across the sand. She sat beside him, her long gray braids unruffled by the wind off the sea.

“You have been very generous with your magic,” she said.

“It’s the least I can do,” Devin said. “I wouldn’t have lasted if you hadn’t taken me in.”

“Died, even?”

“I’ve never said I was a spirit,” Devin said.

“No. You didn’t. But you are very peculiar.”

“I get that a lot,” Devin agreed.

“I would take you as an apprentice,” Aíbinn said. Devin looked away from the flock of children to study her. She met his gaze.

“You’ve shown us your magic,”
she said. “Let me show you ours.”

Put that way, Devin could never refuse.

 

[CloudySkyLoftyMoon]

Lucas Blake​

Date: January 1, 5000 BCE​

Location: Approx. Modern-day Venice, Italy​

Lucas stirred as sensation returned to his body, albeit it through a bleary haze. He had never considered himself a morning person, but this morning was especially bad; he was dog-tired. It felt like he’d slept on a bed of rocks and for his troubles, he’d gotten all the back pain part and none of the actual rest part...must be a Monday. A moment of disgruntled silence passed...no alarm; that meant back to bed!

Mornings were miserable things, a time where the sun was too bright, the air too chilly, and his bed all too comfy. Comfy was the operative word. Today was anything but comfortable. Sleep came back to him slowly, the weight of grogginess heavy on his eyelids. A gust sent shivers down his spine; he reached for his blanket and grasped air. He pawed around...nothing...nothing but the swampy...squishy...slickness of...not a bed!

Lucas bolted upright; he was obviously not home but then...where was he? His eyes darted about, drinking in his surroundings with ever-increasing incredulity. Around him was a brackish, almost marshy land, populated by short grasses and medium-sized trees. To his right was a large lake—or perhaps a sea—dotted by a few small islands; and, to the left were mountains: fog-shrouded, snow-capped peaks... Peaks that...shouldn’t, no couldn’t exist on his tropical-island home. The realization settled in slowly: ‘not home’ was a bit of an understatement. Thankfully, a healthy dose of copium and suspension of disbelief kept him reasonably calm. Calm in a...too gob smacked to panic, kind of way.

The man sat stunned. Another survey of his surroundings revealed nothing new, and worse yet, nothing recognizable. With no signs of even the slightest hints of civilizations, it was all too evident the fate that had befallen him. He’d somehow been kidnapped, whisked a thousand miles away, and then unceremoniously dumped in the middle of nowhere... that or he’d been Isekai’d. He wasn’t quite sure which was more plausible.

Worse yet, whoever or whatever had kidnapped him was a real scrouge, they hadn’t even left him clothes. Whisked away to a foreign land in nothing but his birthday suit. For the third but not the final time, Lucas gazed about, trying to recognize anything of use—the trees? Not a clue. The mountains? They...certainly were mountains. Grass? Well, grass looked like grass—it was all the same.

Lucas slumped, “Damn...should’ve played more Geoguesser.”

 

[Mitheral]

Jonathan Rhand​

Kadıköy (Future Constantinople aka Istanbul)
Day 210 (Summer)
5000 BCE
Average Temp 79 F

While his technological efforts were something to be applauded, Jon’s personal life had taken a sudden turn for the more interesting. Sabela was starting to show. The way he had found out had been a source of great amusement to the other women in Sabela’s family. Jon had been walking along, constantly slowing so she could catch up with him. He tried not to look annoyed. He was about to huff a little when he suddeny stopped, all the wind taken out of his sails. It wasn’t as though they had store bought test sticks for sale at the local store in 5000 BCE.

He had stopped and stared at her. He looked at her face, then midsection, then face, and back and forth. Finally his head tilted sideways as if to ask a silent question. Telip’s wife and sister had been walking along beside Sabela when this happened. Neither was of much help. He gave them both a glance and they continued on leaving Sabela to face Jon alone.

He approached her as if she was fragile. “Why didn’t you tell me? I am an idiot. I thought you were mad at me the other night.” He looked nervous. “You aren’t mad at me are you? Here, let me take those.” He reached to take everything Sabela was carrying.

But Sabela wasn’t having it. “I’m not helpless. I’m not mad. But if you start treating me like I am a frail old woman, I soon will be.”

Jon snatched his hands back. Then he reached out and grabbed the heaviest item firmly. “Maybe not frail. But you ARE carrying my son down there, unless you are mistaken. Or daughter,” he hastily corrected himself. “I KNOW you aren’t frail. But you ARE carrying extra weight. Take it a little easier. And don’t hesitate to ask for help.” Then he set her things down, taking the rest and setting those down as well. Once he had removed everything he took her and pulled her in for a hug. “Why are men always the last to know these things?”

He did the mental math. He figured her due date was probably going to be about mid October (Day 290+). Well, that was going to change any plans he had for departing so soon. Of course, things hadn’t progressed as fast in reality as he had planned them in his mind.

*******
With the news of future children also came the arrival of the first shipments of coal. Finally, Jon had both coal and iron. He had also completed the construction of his first three arc furnaces and a number of graphite rods. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to use them without a generator. That was what the copper wire was for. In the meantime he started some experiments in making coke from coal. He also wanted to experiment with converting lignite into a usable material for smelting. But that would have to wait.

The generator was almost ready though. In fact, it already worked, just not with enough power to run anything useful. He was recalling the Laws of Thermodynamics. His issue with the generator could be summed up by a single acronym - TANSTAAFL (There Aint No Such Thing As A Free Lunch). It was from the book, Moon is a Harsh Mistress, by Robert Heinlein. Never was there a truer statement. All a generator did was convert mechanical energy into electrical by way of passing a conductive wire through a magnetic field. But to do that he would have to supply the mechanical part. Catch 22.

Despite the failures he had enough successes to make progress. He had stronger tools now (and a pile of mistakes).

He had also begun to try and figure out how to create an engine. For the moment it was just a thought experiment. But soon he wanted to build his first windmill, starting with a small scale version of one of those used in the American southwest to run a pump - or a simple steam engine. He was currently stuck on his concept for a steam engine.

You see, he had figured out that expanding gasses pushed a piston guided by the walls of a chamber. What he was having trouble figuring out was what would pull the piston back. He had been losing sleep over the matter for three days before he woke up in the middle of the night excited, much to Sabela’s irritation. But she patiently waited for him to light a candle so he could explain.

“Pistons come in pairs!”

Sabela nodded sagely. She had no idea what he was talking about. But she was getting used to this. He would realize this soon and ask her to forgive him. To be honest she liked that he even thought she COULD understand such things. Most men lacked much thought about the mental capacity of a woman. Jon, however, encouraged her to learn anything she wanted.

Jon babbled a little about how wheels - no gears - pushed and pulled - converting the energy of heat and expansion into mechanical movement. Thermodynamics, he called it. He had made an in-depth study of the subject only a couple years ago for him. But he had never applied the knowledge.

When he finally slowed down it was because he realized that the means to create a piston simply didn’t exist yet. It would require precision that he lacked, a means to measure it, an understanding of how metals expanded when heated, and better quality control over the metals he made. He already had a small pile of iron weapons he had tried to forge and failed as he experimented with how fast to heat the ore, how much coal to add, and how to prepare the coal.

Truly Jon had been sent by the gods. She was to become the mother of great leaders. Already the people were talking about making him a leader. He had told her he expected this months ago and that he must be ready to tell them no. He had instead begun creating a parliament, its members chosen by the people from various villages.

But he had gone a step further. He had created tests for the candidates to pass to be acceptable. Leaders, he had explained, need to have four qualities at a minimum: wisdom; intelligence; courage; and ethics. It was for this reason that their leaders needed life experience - no less than 10 years beyond the age of manhood. In time they must raise that standard. He made them write everything down. He made them set their standards. His, he assured them, would be too high to achieve for generations.

Kadıköy (Future Constantinople aka Istanbul)
Day 290 (Fall)
5000 BCE
Average Temp 63 F

They were in the middle of the harvest season. It was proving to be a slightly better harvest season than usual. But better than that, he had begun to extend trade practices. Phoenicia would not initiate trade for another thousand years. That was the state of things today. He had been lucky to find local merchants who travelled between villages.

He was not in the slightest happy to see Sabela toiling in the fields. He had tried to get her to take a rest. But the best he had managed to get from her was working close to the village with a cart nearby to move her. Then it happened - as he knew it would. Prepare as he might, nothing really prepared you for your first child. Her water broke.

Jon went into boss mode. Try as they might, even the women couldn’t control him. He was terrified at his knowledge of mortality rates in these times. He had already ordered someone to have hot water and soap ready. He wouldn’t allow the women to help Sabela without washing their hands.

Truth to tell, Jon always considered himself squeamish. It was the reason he hadn’t gone into medicine. He would have loved nothing better than to sit back and let the women do all the work here. But he couldn’t do that. He entered the tent and asked how it was going. The women hesitated to tell him anything. So he simply moved in and started to play the role of a doctor. It wasn’t as though he really knew what he was doing. But he did have a little experience with animals.

As a child he had helped deliver various farm animals. With Telip’s family this past Spring he had had a crash course in animal husbandry. The principles were the same, right? A tiny newborn creature had to make it through an opening most would think too small. Still, a baby’s head was larger than a hand. He got to work.

He soon realized what the problem was. His discovery very nearly put him in shock. He ordered more water and clean cloth, barking orders. His voice alternately became calm for Sabela’s sake, projecting far more courage than he felt. The baby needed help turning.

A daughter. He asked Sabela what to name her, but she wanted him to do the honors. The daughter he ended up naming Ele (rhymes with Nellie). Ele was a private joke, meaning Extinction Level Event - the end of life as he knew it. Sabela would not have been amused, so it would have to remain a private joke forever.

Kadıköy (Future Constantinople aka Istanbul)
Year 2 Day 90 (Spring)
4999 BCE

The first ships were nearly ready. His, he had decided, was going to take a while longer as he added an outer shell to the hull. This shell would be fireproof and waterproof - wool soaked in a stannic oxide. He had very seriously considered scrapping the ship and starting over with a double hulled design using steel. But, you know … If he waited until he had caught up with the 20th century, he and Sabela would be dead of old age.

His chem lab was finally something worthy of note. It was a 6000 square foot building - larger than any other Kadıköy. While the building was mostly empty, the part he used was filled with containers of various chemicals of constantly improved purity. Most common acids and bases. Various oxides, catalysts, common reagents.

He had built a small ice maker. Simple task really. Refrigeration was more difficult as that was a matter of duration. He had once delighted the children with ice cream. He called it a gift of thermodynamics, and entropy, brought to them by a distant friend known as Gibbs. He told them the story of how he learned how to make an ice maker, how he once visited the Valley of Death where the hot winds blew.

He had decided to put his departure off until Fall. He had already learned that storm seasons in the Mediterranean was from Spring thru Fall. Storms had forced him to shut down operations several times already. He could only hope to weather another storm season. It would also allow his daughter to have her first birthday.

 

[Mitheral]

Jonathan Rhand​

Kadıköy (Future Constantinople aka Istanbul)
Year 2 Day 300 (Fall)
4999 BCE
Average Temp 54 F

Jon walked around patting Ele on the back gently grinning at the men who just shook their heads. Caring for children was women’s work. Jonathan spent far too much time doting on his daughter. They had all hoped for a male heir. There was a loud blurp noise and he grinned.

“Thar she blows,” he murmured, chuckling. He was rewarded with a gurgling noise.

Some of the women snickered at his wife. “Sabela, I think your hisband has stolen your daughter again. You are sure HE is the husband and not the wife.”

Sabela smiled back. “It is the way of men where he was from. Men and women shared the caring for a child. And besides, this is harvest time. There is much work to do.”

“He shows off your daughter like he is a son. Oh! By the gods!” the woman clucking at Sabela looked horrified.

Jon was tossing Ele over his head and catching her, bringing her down to touch noses. Ele gurgled happily.

“Wait for it,” Sabela informed them.

Almost on cue Ele spewed the contents of part of her last meal all over Jon. Jon instantly looked back in Sabela’s direction with a guilty look hoping she hadn’t seen that. Busted. But he wasn’t angry. He just sighed and started cleaning up the mess.

****************

Nearly two full years he had spent in the prehistoric past. He had one more expedition he wanted to spend with the people of Anatolia. But instead he left them with careful instructions, making them repeat them back. Their mission? To capture wild horses. The population of the Kadıköy region had begun to increase sharply. He cautioned against allowing it to increase too quickly without ensuring ample food supplies in between harvests.

He and Sabela loaded up onto the Ark I. Getting the Ark launched had proven to be an engineering feat first accomplished with the other ships. But once launched he assured Sabela that the ship would be very hard to sink. He had built it to weather storms, even the massive waves of the oceans. He now had the means to keep time through a series of hourglass type instruments. Far from accurate, but he had yet to workout determining longitude any other way. He had developed optics starting with a primitive microscope and telescope. He had constructed a floating sextant. He had a compass - multiple compasses. Anything critical he always had a spare for. He had planned this for a year and a half. He could repair the ship or build a new one from scratch - though that would take longer than his wife would likely live. Not really an option he cared to entertain.

Food stores. He had set them up with salted provisions, water, the means to purify water, seed - all the provisions they would need to start from scratch. They had goats to provide fresh milk. He had fish traps, fish nets, barrels to store fish, a way to smoke fish. He had preserves, dried grains, and flour. His greatest worry was loss of provisions through spoilage. Hde had the means to make mashed foods for their daughter.

Wood and pitch, fireproofing material. He had thought to bring materials to repair the ship. Steel tools. Copper.

Copper, Silver, even gold. He had plenty to use for trade. He even had a few precious stones. Bronze. He had plenty of that, enough to make him wealthy anywhere he went. Paper and ink. Slate and chalk. Grindstones. Wheels.

********

Sabela was clearly nervous. By now Jon had taught her how to swim. She would have a life preserver to wear at all times anyway. He had shown her that it worked. But she had grown up hearing horror stories about storms and the anger of gods. Old fears were not easily cast aside. He had to give her credit though. She put on a good show of trusting him. He only hoped he would never prove wrong. The ship was built with kindling covered by a fireproofed shell. One mistake …

He raised the sails and they took off. Soon Sabela’s eyes were turning wide and fearful as the ship picked up speed. Sailing catamarans were known for setting speed records. His design was slightly faster - though purely by accident. If he had known what he was doing and had better tools and materials, he would have easily been capable of more speed. But he hadn’t done the best job of streamlining. Sailing catamarans typically managed 15-30 knots. He was probably running on the lower end of that. A typical merchant boat in 5000 BCE? 6 knots maybe.

For Sabela the speed was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Jon had a little experience with using sails now, thanks to the ships he had given away to the merchants and villages. That had been his only request - simple lessons. They had felt honored to teach the great Teacher, Sage, … Prophet. For now he had her remain seated, which she was happy to do.

He used a pole net to scoop up some fish and kept them in a bucket of water. It wasn’t long before he got his wish as a pod of dolphins started to pace them. With a smile he started tossing out some fish. Then he heaved to and spent a little time feeding the dolphins. He explained that they were wild animals. But they wouldn’t regard humans as food. They were playful, but could easily hurt a human trying to play with them. But he also told stories about how dolphins had been known to carry sailors to land. Wise sailors always gave part of their catch to the creatures.

It took two days to reach Ti-Sumurna where they greeted old friends and dropped off some cargo. These days it was a week-long round trip to travel between the two areas under sail with the new ships. And that was allowing for time to swap out cargoes and passengers.

He was torn between continuing east to Mersin and Adana, then continuing to Phoenicia and eventually Egypt. But he had decided to avoid Egypt for now. Athens was next. It would take a single day under sail if he was lucky. He decided he wouldn’t rely on luck and planned on heaving too and sleeping at sea, heading in the following morning.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Devin Murphy

Location: Dingle Peninsula, Munster, Ireland
Date: May-June,, 5000 BCE
Weather: 60s-70s, still mostly cloudy

Aíbinn was a woman of many roles. She was an elder, but also a healer. And, like Fedlem said, she was a spirit worker, though to the túath, those two roles were one in the same.

Devin followed her all across camp and into the forest and down to the shore. He learned what herbs would soothe a fever or a cough, how to midwife a birth, how to set a broken bone. He learned what rituals would keep malevolent spirits from entering camp to cause mischief, which would ease a difficult birth, which would ensure a successful hunt. And he learned the stories and songs that held the túath’s history and lore. There was no paper to write anything down, and Aíbinn would surely not have been satisfied with him if he’d found something to take notes on. His memory was a large part of his training, and she quizzed him often, making sure he remembered exactly what she’d told him, how she’d told him. It made sense, he thought. Even if he had books, how was he supposed to haul all of them around when going here and there taking care of people?

And anyway, what if whatever happened to get him here in the first place happened again? The more he had memorized, the better.

While he studied, the túath kept making pottery and soap mostly without him now, experimenting and creating as they needed things. They did trade some with other tribes in the area, but not much. It was hard to convince a mobile population to hang onto a lot of stuff, after all. But trade was mostly done by Conn and the other hunters, and Devin had very little to do with it.

The weather turned warmer, thought it was still frequently very wet, and the sky was rarely clear. That suited Devin though--it beat getting sunburnt. The túath took to the sea in boats carved out of logs to fish. They reminded Devin of giant canoes, and took anywhere from six to nearly twenty people to row, depending on size. And he missed sailing, but even a small sail boat would take more work to make and effort to maintain than he knew the túath would be willing to invest. Devin found he didn't mind much though. The fact of being out on the sea was always more important that the how.

On a rare clear night in the long days leading to the solstice, Muirgel woke Devin.

"Hmphf?" he mumbled articulately as she shook him by the shoulder. And then, when he was slightly more awake, "What are you doing in here?"

"I want to show you something," she whispered. Curious, Devin crawled out of his bed skins and followed her out of the tent, careful not to wake the others, and let her lead him down to the shore in the moonlight. She was slow, and careful, and after a moment Devin stepped forward so that they were walking together, letting Muirgel lean on him a little. On the silvery sands of the beach, she pointed to the west, further out to sea, where the moonlight lit the wine dark surface with pale shimmers. "Look," she said, still in a reverential whisper.

By now Devin had seen orcas off the coast a handful of time, but in the dark of the night they were made new and strange again, otherwordly creatures of dark water and starlight. The were playing in the water, breeching and diving.

"Ancestors out for the night," Devin whispered. Aíbinn had told him that the whales were spirits of the dead, who came to watch their descendants from the otherworld across the sea. Muirgel nodded.

They stood there, arm in arm, and watched the orcas.

***​

The solstice was the holiday of the year, as far as Devin could tell. There was feasting and music and dancing long into the night. They were not so high that they got the midnight sun, but the sun still lit the sky well into the evening, bathing them in a golden glow as it set on the shortest night of the year, and then settled into a deep blue night over their bonfire. Aíbinn presided over much of the ceremony of it, and Devin assisted her. The stories she told were not the ones of ordinary nights, about heroes and monsters, but instead about gods and cosmic struggles.

As the sun finally set fully and the sky went dark and the stars emerged, branches were again pulled from the bonfire so boys could leap over them. And again, Devin did not join in, standing a little apart, his face smeared with red ocher from his earlier part in the ceremonies. Muirgel sidestepped gracelessly over to him, and he reached out to steady her.

"Thanks," she said. "You're not going to play?"

"No," Devin said. "I know better than to do things I'm not good at in front of an audience."

"Well, how would you ever get a girl's attention then?"

"I think I've managed alright," Devin said. She looked away quickly, and Devin wasn't sure, in the wavering light of the fire, if she was blushing or not. "What? Aren't I right?"

"I...I'm not pretty," she said softly.

"Maybe not, but you play in the mud with me, and that's far more interesting," Devin said. She giggled and looked back at him. He grinned. "Dance badly with me?" he offered.

"It's the only way I know how," Muirgel said, and let him pull her closer to the fire.