WizWrm
First Post
A couple notes before we jump in:
The elves of the Radu tribe - graceful creatures of middling height and muscular build - awoke one day to see a man approaching them from upriver. He came from the north, walking slowly towards the series of caves where they had chosen to stay during the months before the river would flood and drive them back onto the high plateaus of the area. Though they were initially suspicious of his odd clothes - a robe expertly woven from animal hair - and of his inability to speak their language, they quickly took him in, eager to have an extra set of hands to join their hunters in catching fish. Eilil, as the man called himself, quickly learned to communicate with the Radu elves, and adapted to fit into their social ladder. Their leader, Alade, is given much respect, if only because he is the eldest and understands the changing seasons, and knows when the tribe must be moved to higher ground. Below him are the other elders; those too old to care for themselves but wise enough to settle disputes and oversee the day-to-day affairs of the tribe. Below them are the hunters, fishermen who spent their day gathering sustenance for the tribe using their hands and primitive spears. When the fishing is bad, they go searching for berries or fruits. On a level, socially, with the hunters, are the caretakers, men and women of the tribe who are not physically fit or patient enough for the grueling job of catching fish, but were equally important, as they are responsible for the crafts of the tribe - mainly raising children, making spears, scouting caves, or cooking. Finally are the children, who are raised by the caretakers as a group and have little say in the day-to-day activities of the tribe, until they grow to maturity. The Radu are a small tribe, consisting of around forty individuals, equally distributed between men and women. For the most part, they live in caves or in rudimentary tents and lean-tos made of animal skins and mostly-straight fallen tree branches.
Eilil, it is an average day in the existence of your tribe. You have just returned at dusk from a fishing trip that was only mediocre in its success; in fact, the tribe has been getting a bit short on food lately. The fish are scarce, the hunters are having to go farther and farther to gather fruits, and Alade is unsure how the tribe will be able to feed itself in the coming week. Suddenly, for whatever reason, you choose to reveal yourself, and in a brilliant flash of light, you do so. The hunters around you shout in surprise, one of them even dropping his bundle of fish. After the initial shock passes, they gather in a circle around you, obviously unsure of what to do, but none seem confident enough to address you.
----
Attar, you find yourself brought into existence near a tribe (the Jasad, as he would later learn they called themselves) of noble, broad-shouldered, green-skinned humanoids - orcs. They make their home roaming a cold tundra, hunting almost exclusively to obtain food, though there are some edible plants they gather on occasion. Thus, the hunters - the strongest, fastest, and most intelligent of the Jasad - hold the highest social status in the tribe, and the tribe's leader is the best hunter, a position he (or she) holds until either he dies, steps down, or is judged no longer able to think clearly by the other hunters. For shelter, they set up animal-skin lean-tos around a central firepit, but none of it is very permanent, as they must move with the animal herds to feed themselves. When it snows in the winter, the Jasad have learned to retreat along the treeline to protect themselves from worst effects of the bitter cold. Today is just such a day, and the tribe (of about fifty orcs) huddles together around a giant bonfire they built to cook the results of their successful hunt, one in which they also managed to bring down a small group of wolves that threatened the elk the Jasad feed upon. It is the evening, and as they dance in celebration around the fire, you decide to show yourself for the first time. With a thunderous roar of laughter, you spring out of the fire itself in the guise of a man with jet black skin and the head of a lion with a fiery mane, set down his burning spear, and join your tribe in the dance. They are wary of you, and none approach closer than a few dozen feet, but seem pleased, somehow, that you are there. As the celebration comes to a close and the meat finishes cooking, the lead hunter, Yalakar, approaches you carefully. Spear in hand, he asks, "Who are you, and why have you come?"
----
Asveh, you come into existence over a vast grassland, watching a nomadic halfling tribe. Their small stature keeps them hidden in the tall grasses from predators, and there are several fields of wild grain and corn that they wander between to collect food from, each full cycle (reaching all of the fields) taking about two to three years. There are perhaps eighty halflings total, but this is split into five smaller family groups that gather along a riverbed once every half-cycle or so (they measure time in cycles) after the floodwaters drain away, to meet, trading knowledge and food. All adults share equally in decision-making and food-gathering (even the children make a game out of collecting as much corn as possible), but there is a definite distinction between those who choose to follow and those who choose to lead. When arguments break out, it is put to a vote, but when an individual is too stubborn to yield to the majority, it is usually resolved through ceremonialized duels. It is usually warm enough that the halfling families can sleep under large animal-skin blankets, but when it gets colder or rains, they retreat to rocky outcroppings and take shelter in the caves.
After you watch them for about a dozen cycles, the nomads of the great plains gather in a dried, shallow river bed for one of their traditional great meets. On one morning, several days into the meet, a dozen of the tribe's elders convene in the morning, having been troubled by strange dreams. Solemnly, they announce to the gathered families that one has arisen to lead them - Asveh, a great spirit of the plains. Furthermore, they call for your acknowledgement and presence among them, to take your place in the halfling tribe.
----
The Volor tribe of gnomes makes their place on the island that they call Quam, or "the world," in their language, and it is here that you, Irohim, have found yourself. Quam is a tropical island dominated by a central volcano, which is mildly active, and erupts about once every two or three generations. The gnomes live near the coast, hunting marine life or gathering fruit to feed themselves. Besides a few large colonies of seabirds, miscellaneous lizards, and the gnomes themselves, there is virtually no animal life that doesn't spend at least half its time in the water. The Volor gnomes, numbering in the high thirties, is led by five of its eldest members, chosen by a general consensus of the tribe. It takes both popularity and intelligence to be chosen; therefore, it is rare that the any of the elders' decisions is questioned. The weather is good and it is rare that the gnomes need shelter from the elements, but when they do, they find it beneath dense groves of tropical palms.
It is several years after you arrived, and an unseasonal cold snap has touched the island, sending the usually idyllic gnomes into a state of anxiety. It was during one cold night that you chose to show yourself. The air is filled with trepidation, and with the desperate cries of pain of a woman in labour. Then you came down from the sky, your shape that of a naked child, your body as transparent as water, dotted with stars within. Saying no words, but filled with warmth, you ease the woman's pain, and the child is born healthy and strong. The child's father, one of the Volor elders, eyes you, shivering nervously. "I thank you for your generosity, and would like to repay you, though I do not know who you are."
----
Coreagen, you coalesce near a great underground river, which provides food for the Sharalik tribe, milky-eyed humans that have evolved to be able to see through the darkness. They live in relative unawareness of their broader surroundings, have little concept of social structure, and spend their time searching the river and its streams for fish, or defending themselves against predators. This year, though, about two years after you first began to watch them, there are less fish to be had, perhaps due because of the tribe's success and the overfishing that resulted. The Sharalik find themselves starving. However, after several weeks of hardship, the entire tribe feels a spiritual warmth, a feeling of joy and love. The greatest of their fishermen suddenly rises from his normal stooped posture, standing erect and tall. He signals the rest of the tribe to follow him, though even he is unsure of his destination. They travel for two days up one of their more heavily fished-out tributaries, heading uphill all the way. Finally, they reach the place where the river first descends underground, marked by a sparkling waterfall and a trout spawning pool. None of the Sharalik had ever been that far away from their homes, but when they arrive, they decide to stay, and make the forested region surrounding the waterfall their new home.
- All of the tribes possess knowledge of only extremely basic tool-use; they haven't even really begun to use the simple machines (pulley, wedge, inclined plane, fulcrum, lever, wheel) yet, unless otherwise noted. However, they do all have a reasonably sophisticated language.
- For simplicity's sake, all races have about the same life-span, which, in their primitive and barbaric state, is currently about forty years.
- I included all of your first-appearances, but decided to modify a couple for the sake of variety. If there are any objections, I can change them back.
- As much time can pass between turns as you wish, though I suspect that at first you'll want to spend some time getting yourself involved in your tribe and pushing them out of barbarism.
The elves of the Radu tribe - graceful creatures of middling height and muscular build - awoke one day to see a man approaching them from upriver. He came from the north, walking slowly towards the series of caves where they had chosen to stay during the months before the river would flood and drive them back onto the high plateaus of the area. Though they were initially suspicious of his odd clothes - a robe expertly woven from animal hair - and of his inability to speak their language, they quickly took him in, eager to have an extra set of hands to join their hunters in catching fish. Eilil, as the man called himself, quickly learned to communicate with the Radu elves, and adapted to fit into their social ladder. Their leader, Alade, is given much respect, if only because he is the eldest and understands the changing seasons, and knows when the tribe must be moved to higher ground. Below him are the other elders; those too old to care for themselves but wise enough to settle disputes and oversee the day-to-day affairs of the tribe. Below them are the hunters, fishermen who spent their day gathering sustenance for the tribe using their hands and primitive spears. When the fishing is bad, they go searching for berries or fruits. On a level, socially, with the hunters, are the caretakers, men and women of the tribe who are not physically fit or patient enough for the grueling job of catching fish, but were equally important, as they are responsible for the crafts of the tribe - mainly raising children, making spears, scouting caves, or cooking. Finally are the children, who are raised by the caretakers as a group and have little say in the day-to-day activities of the tribe, until they grow to maturity. The Radu are a small tribe, consisting of around forty individuals, equally distributed between men and women. For the most part, they live in caves or in rudimentary tents and lean-tos made of animal skins and mostly-straight fallen tree branches.
Eilil, it is an average day in the existence of your tribe. You have just returned at dusk from a fishing trip that was only mediocre in its success; in fact, the tribe has been getting a bit short on food lately. The fish are scarce, the hunters are having to go farther and farther to gather fruits, and Alade is unsure how the tribe will be able to feed itself in the coming week. Suddenly, for whatever reason, you choose to reveal yourself, and in a brilliant flash of light, you do so. The hunters around you shout in surprise, one of them even dropping his bundle of fish. After the initial shock passes, they gather in a circle around you, obviously unsure of what to do, but none seem confident enough to address you.
----
Attar, you find yourself brought into existence near a tribe (the Jasad, as he would later learn they called themselves) of noble, broad-shouldered, green-skinned humanoids - orcs. They make their home roaming a cold tundra, hunting almost exclusively to obtain food, though there are some edible plants they gather on occasion. Thus, the hunters - the strongest, fastest, and most intelligent of the Jasad - hold the highest social status in the tribe, and the tribe's leader is the best hunter, a position he (or she) holds until either he dies, steps down, or is judged no longer able to think clearly by the other hunters. For shelter, they set up animal-skin lean-tos around a central firepit, but none of it is very permanent, as they must move with the animal herds to feed themselves. When it snows in the winter, the Jasad have learned to retreat along the treeline to protect themselves from worst effects of the bitter cold. Today is just such a day, and the tribe (of about fifty orcs) huddles together around a giant bonfire they built to cook the results of their successful hunt, one in which they also managed to bring down a small group of wolves that threatened the elk the Jasad feed upon. It is the evening, and as they dance in celebration around the fire, you decide to show yourself for the first time. With a thunderous roar of laughter, you spring out of the fire itself in the guise of a man with jet black skin and the head of a lion with a fiery mane, set down his burning spear, and join your tribe in the dance. They are wary of you, and none approach closer than a few dozen feet, but seem pleased, somehow, that you are there. As the celebration comes to a close and the meat finishes cooking, the lead hunter, Yalakar, approaches you carefully. Spear in hand, he asks, "Who are you, and why have you come?"
----
Asveh, you come into existence over a vast grassland, watching a nomadic halfling tribe. Their small stature keeps them hidden in the tall grasses from predators, and there are several fields of wild grain and corn that they wander between to collect food from, each full cycle (reaching all of the fields) taking about two to three years. There are perhaps eighty halflings total, but this is split into five smaller family groups that gather along a riverbed once every half-cycle or so (they measure time in cycles) after the floodwaters drain away, to meet, trading knowledge and food. All adults share equally in decision-making and food-gathering (even the children make a game out of collecting as much corn as possible), but there is a definite distinction between those who choose to follow and those who choose to lead. When arguments break out, it is put to a vote, but when an individual is too stubborn to yield to the majority, it is usually resolved through ceremonialized duels. It is usually warm enough that the halfling families can sleep under large animal-skin blankets, but when it gets colder or rains, they retreat to rocky outcroppings and take shelter in the caves.
After you watch them for about a dozen cycles, the nomads of the great plains gather in a dried, shallow river bed for one of their traditional great meets. On one morning, several days into the meet, a dozen of the tribe's elders convene in the morning, having been troubled by strange dreams. Solemnly, they announce to the gathered families that one has arisen to lead them - Asveh, a great spirit of the plains. Furthermore, they call for your acknowledgement and presence among them, to take your place in the halfling tribe.
----
The Volor tribe of gnomes makes their place on the island that they call Quam, or "the world," in their language, and it is here that you, Irohim, have found yourself. Quam is a tropical island dominated by a central volcano, which is mildly active, and erupts about once every two or three generations. The gnomes live near the coast, hunting marine life or gathering fruit to feed themselves. Besides a few large colonies of seabirds, miscellaneous lizards, and the gnomes themselves, there is virtually no animal life that doesn't spend at least half its time in the water. The Volor gnomes, numbering in the high thirties, is led by five of its eldest members, chosen by a general consensus of the tribe. It takes both popularity and intelligence to be chosen; therefore, it is rare that the any of the elders' decisions is questioned. The weather is good and it is rare that the gnomes need shelter from the elements, but when they do, they find it beneath dense groves of tropical palms.
It is several years after you arrived, and an unseasonal cold snap has touched the island, sending the usually idyllic gnomes into a state of anxiety. It was during one cold night that you chose to show yourself. The air is filled with trepidation, and with the desperate cries of pain of a woman in labour. Then you came down from the sky, your shape that of a naked child, your body as transparent as water, dotted with stars within. Saying no words, but filled with warmth, you ease the woman's pain, and the child is born healthy and strong. The child's father, one of the Volor elders, eyes you, shivering nervously. "I thank you for your generosity, and would like to repay you, though I do not know who you are."
----
Coreagen, you coalesce near a great underground river, which provides food for the Sharalik tribe, milky-eyed humans that have evolved to be able to see through the darkness. They live in relative unawareness of their broader surroundings, have little concept of social structure, and spend their time searching the river and its streams for fish, or defending themselves against predators. This year, though, about two years after you first began to watch them, there are less fish to be had, perhaps due because of the tribe's success and the overfishing that resulted. The Sharalik find themselves starving. However, after several weeks of hardship, the entire tribe feels a spiritual warmth, a feeling of joy and love. The greatest of their fishermen suddenly rises from his normal stooped posture, standing erect and tall. He signals the rest of the tribe to follow him, though even he is unsure of his destination. They travel for two days up one of their more heavily fished-out tributaries, heading uphill all the way. Finally, they reach the place where the river first descends underground, marked by a sparkling waterfall and a trout spawning pool. None of the Sharalik had ever been that far away from their homes, but when they arrive, they decide to stay, and make the forested region surrounding the waterfall their new home.
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