Meshok Fish-Eyed, being a lonely philosopher will ponder about the sense of it all. Why do we even try to thrive in this unfriendly world?
[1] You have no idea - surely the world of the spirits you will join after death cannot be worse. All this effort is pointless - each and every one of you will die, and nobody will remember you ever existed in a few generations. All human works are impermanent and without lasting meaning. And though you momentarily feel a smidgen of pride at the cleverness you have displayed in realizing this wisdom, you immediately realize that the same rule applies to you in equal, if not even greater force. Your life is, has been, and will always be empty and devoid of accomplishment.
"Brothers and sisters, I have been given images as favorable as the scout's reports! Is it not good for a tribe to leave a land which had become dry and barren? Is it not good to follow the path of the eagle where we may and delight in the new land he shows us? Change is difficult, just as the herds graze as long as they can before moving, so it is with our people. But we have grazed here long, led to this place by wise ancestors who recognized the need to find new land. It is time to prepare to go east! Hunters and others able should lead the way and prepare the land for those of us who must make further preparations."
Prepare tribe to move.
[5] The tribe, having awaited this day for some months now, prepares to move without a second thought - the tents are rapidly packed in, serving as bags for all other things needed, and within a few hours the tribe is ready to go, with a few exceptions - the Thinker's apprentice has gone off on some errand, Conrak is working on something and some of the hunters are still out looking for meat for that ill-timed challenge. You consider whether to move out as soon as possible today, or perhaps wait until tomorrow.
((I'm going to assume that we have domesticated horses considering the apparent invention of carts.))
Ponder if the methods used to tame horses could be used to tame other animals which can then be used as an unspoiling meat store. Also wonder where horses come from as we have tamed them and I have a theory of budding.
[5] An animal and a human are of different origins, but even you realize that they have commonalities. Though animals run in the wilds and humans run with each other, a trap to lure an animal works better with bait - food. But what if the trap had no snare? Only the scent of a human and food, freely given? The method of the peace offering, where gifts are given and pleasantries exchanged? Would a creature of lightning understand such a thing? A wolf, for instance? A horse? A buffalo? It is not something you know, but it is an idea that boggles the mind.
Hmm. Drat. Let us look for tracks first.
Look for large animal tracks with henchperson!
[3] If there were large animals in this area, you are fairly sure you would not be in this situation to begin with. But there are wolf tracks that you can see, and certain droppings lead you to believe that certain larger animals do come here, or at least have in the past year or so. This is not very helpful, but you have to take what you can get in times like these.
hurry home and put the leaches and things in the small pond i have built for things such as this then ask clangbunk what he has done today so i can fix up any massive mistakes if i find no massive mistakes talk to him about the changing values in professions
[4] You hurry home as quickly as possible, only to discover that the general state of things has changed significantly during your absence - everybody seems to be ready to go somewhere, and you gather quickly that a great move is about to ensue. You obviously have no time for your experiments now, though you are pleased to discover that Clangbunk has not done anything overly alarming in your absence, and seems rather pleased with the things you've brought him.
Wait for equipment to be ready, and curse Conrak for his negligence of works
Conrak seems to have forgotten about your request entirely, evidently feeling like that project he thought of yesterday is more important than your urgent need. On the other hand, he is the tool crafter, and in stature far surpasses you, so it is not a sign of any significant disrespect that he has forgotten you.
Fellow hunters! We have gathered today because of the lack of meat, but now we have heard of a rich land to the east, where we will once more be respected among the tribe! Let us depart. Kurgle, the friendly hunters, and anyone else who wishes to leave will head east now.
Wait!
Catch up with the volunteers.
I volunteer to go on the expedition.
Give Haphan his knife.
It seems the spirits weren't looking kindly upon your knife.
[5] With your cadre of hunters, Haphan and several warriors, you leave on the double, with Tuktu taking a short while to get ready for the trip ahead - you wait for him, as his aid will no doubt be necessary. After a little spat that is quickly resolved, he returns to the fold.
When the meeting is over, Elto helps round up the children for the night, then gets to cleaning the few fish he caught. Tomorrow the village will prepare to leave.
[1] The general excitement of the day, as well as the volatile situation developing near the shaman persuade you to stay and watch - two newcomers in one day, it seems, and both are intent on starting trouble. How unusual.
"Very well. It went better than I anticipated. I thank you, wise Arlia, for your support. It's time for our tribe to move for a new horizons."
Lead volunteers to the promised land.
[5] Wasting no time, you and your group of followers set off across the plains, disappearing over the horizon in less than half an hour - many bid you fond farewells, promising to catch up soon, and you are heartened by the spirit of optimism surrounding you and your traveling party. Things are going to work out, you feel.
By nightfall, your party have managed to reach the slow river, which you have crossed twice already - the waters are deceptively calm, and you know that there are alligators within, as well as places where the river spirits themselves try to pull any foolhardy crosser into the depths to join them.
[1] The canoe you whittled the previous time is conspicuously missing - not even the paddle remains. Either beasts have gotten it, or it has somehow been swept into the river.
I am Christoph, a very charismatic an ambitious man. Try to get total control over the tribe.
[6] You raise the entirely reasonable point that a group of people this size need a chief of some sort - otherwise there is nothing to unite the shaman, the chief hunter, the tool crafter, the healer, the thinker and others - these circles of elders you have observed, while a good idea theoretically, take time and ultimately can lead to yet more strife by virtue of there being no real chief authority to arbitrate things. The way they oppose you is clear evidence of this - the healer seems to be trying to arbitrate, while the shaman dictates the will of the people on her own. The society present here is already gravitating toward this highly basic power structure, and the circle of elders is more a formality than anything, with people following the shaman's directives regardless of whatever the rest of the council may think.
As such, you maintain, it is entirely sensible that the pretense of needing a consensus for all decisions be dropped, and that these people merely elect a chief instead - you realize it is probably going to be the shaman anyway, but nevertheless you ask the people to consider the alternatives, as the shaman in question is both far too close to the spirit world to properly govern the mortals as an equal, and a woman at that. And women, as everyone knows, are naturally emotional creatures that can't properly-
"Who are you, Christoph? You come here, just a newcomer, and try to take control! You are nothing, but a little man, standing on the shoulders of giants, and pinching their ears. I tell you, learn your place, or the giants will become angry, and swat you like a fly. Stop now, or you will be sorry."
Stare Christoph in the eyes, and threaten to kill him and make him warpaint if he tries once more to take control of what's not his.
[5] You interrupt Cristoph's speech advocating honesty in government (with a touch of misogyny, admittedly) with a death threat that, coupled with the wild-eyed look in your eyes you have always dreamed of one day showing Kurgle, gets him to shut up for a moment as he tries to imagine the best retort that would paint him as a moral victor in this situation.
Paint symbols of shame upon Christoph's body!
[3] You find that painting symbols on the body of an unwilling person is more difficult than you would have thought, as the sensation of being touched by an unknown party causes him to draw back, a tiny smudge of ash paint on his temple from where you touched it with your woven hair brush.
Kill the outsider. Anoint myself with warpaint made from his remains.
((I'm gonna go strike through my previous action.))
[6] You, on the other hand, do not put much stock in threats. Instead, you meet Cristoph's words with a different retort, grabbing his head and slitting his throat with your sharpest flint knife, following Kurgle's example from earlier. You watch as Cristoph, surprise quickly replaced by encroaching fear of death in his eyes, tries vainly to staunch the bleeding before choking to death on his own blood. You look around sternly at the council, and at the other tribesmen, some of whom did seem at least slightly on board with the idea of a chief, if not the idea that women are unfit to be such. You suppose it is not really your problem - the external threat has been dealt with, and now it is time to prepare yourself for travel.
[4] Taking the bones of the newcomer's fingers, crushing them between stones and mixing them with the bloodied soil where Cristoph fell, you anoint yourself with the macabre mixture, and then, without another word, walk off with the others, the smell of blood heavy on you as you take off.
Kutuk stops Tuktu from attacking the outsider.
"Tuktu, cease your violence! He has a right to voice his opinion."
[4] You notice Tuktu moving for the outsider, but a little too late to do anything about it - only when the flint knife already is being drawn across the rabble-rouser's throat does your exclamation rise from your throat, and in moments the deed is done - you know that you can do nothing for the violently bleeding man on the ground. Worst of all, nobody at all except you seems to care much for his fate, and you wonder what this says about your fellow tribesmen.
"You save Chantutu's life! Chantutu swears oath of loyalty!" Chantutu says to the man that caught him.
"How can Chantutu assist catching man? Dance? Great hunt? Chantutu follow man until end!"
Follow Nth. Take nearby rock and dance gently. Chantututututu's time shall come!
((Also question: what would have happened on a 5 or 6 on the flying?))
[1] Even you cannot manage a dance as you gaze upon the pitiful bleeding soon-to-be-corpse of Cristoph. The smile disappears from your face as you look at Tuktu, painted in the blood of the man on the ground, silently joining the hunters on the way out.
FIND TRUSTWORTHY PERSON IN CAMP, ASK FOR VUKKO'S WHEREABOUTS
BE CAREFUL INCASE THEY HAVE BEEN TURNED AGAINST ME
THEN GET SUPPLIES FOR TRAVELLING, PREPARE FOR PURSUIT
[4] You ask a gatherer woman, Nuuta, who you believe to fancy you to a significant degree, if she knows where Vukko is - she says that he has gone on the hunt for animals along with a small number of other hunters, and also Irk. You thank her, and quickly gather what you need - your knives, your cords, your bow and your snares, and a few rations to keep you on your feet. You feel that Vukko has gravely underestimated you, and that soon he will learn a most effective lesson on why doing so is not a good idea.
Conrak scratches his head, wondering what he could have possibly done with all his wood; usually he kept a supply of useful materials available in case he needed to make urgent repairs. He vaguely remembered having a brilliant idea sometime last night, after eating some delicious fruit which was perhaps a few days past its prime, but he could not recall what it was. Something about the young men dragging logs back to the tribe's encampment, and a young boy dragging two sticks...
"Ah!" Running behind his workspace, Conrak finds the project he had been working on; a mad jumble of sticks, hides, and long strands of plant fiber are strewn on the ground between two long poles. The poles ought to be handles; if Conrak can bind them together properly, and find a way to create a loose sort of basket between them, he knows he will have a new way to carry heavy loads long distances. Perhaps he will have better luck now that he is not drunk on spoiled fruit.
Conrak rigs a sledge from whatever materials he can lay hands on, to ease the carrying of game and the traveling of the tribe.
[5] Ignoring the circle of elders, which you have an honorary place in, ignoring the second violent murder of an outsider performed in plain view of everyone today, ignoring the way people are preparing for a mass exodus, you suddenly remember what your project was - a way to move things better. First of all, you quickly rig up a sledge from the materials available, which is quite a simple matter for one such as you. It is one that you imagine could carry the materials of several families if they were stacked properly, and could easily be drawn by one or two people.
What is with Plok, talking about revenge and being captured, spreading lies to get one killed, along with being a useless scout.
Go to Plok, and set him straight before he annoys me anymore
[2] You attempt to persuade Plok, which goes well up until you realize that you are attempting to persuade Plok, which you realize is a significant flaw in your plan you have overlooked in your haste. In addition, he is about to run off into the wilds anyway, and is doing an uncharacteristically good job of keeping whatever he is doing almost entirely to himself, so you have few reasons to bother with him right now.
i have the oddest feeling this spawn is basically guaranteed death
REROLL
All spawns are guaranteed death. None ultimately survive history, though the same forces may reemerge however many times is needed. But, as you wish.
[2] You are Hy, a member of the Fisher Tribe. You are currently experiencing the immense pain of childbirth, which you were not prepared for in the slightest. The midwife reassures you that all will be well, but you do not share her assessment. Your husband is beginning to fear that you may not make it, for you were never known for your robust frame.
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Topic: History: the Minimalist RTD (Read 125737 times)