Tell the news of the venture to the Union. Have them prepare for enemy attack
[4] You return to the Union in the coming weeks, and relate to them the fact that a fierce enemy dwells deep in the southern parts of the world - they appear to have heard from your advance messenger.
[6] They decide immediately that a much larger war party is needed, composed virtually purely of Spears and Gulls this time around, mostly because the Three Tribes are more like Two Tribes now that the Heads have been decimated so. You are forbidden to participate in their campaign in the south.
Take the old man to my family's home.
[5] You take the old man to your family's home, where he is received with the utmost hospitality as your guest - you dine and attempt to communicate (somewhat successfully, no less) several times, and your family builds up a fine rapport with your hermit friend.
Retell more fancifully!
[6] Your tales grow more fanciful and interesting each time you tell them, incorporating more overtly supernatural elements up until the point where you start to build up a mythical world with them - the morals of your tales become increasingly unrelatable, but people seem to enjoy the mystical aspects much more than they ever did the moralization, so you suspect it's all good. You actually draw quite a dedicated audience after you start building up the myth, and you dare say you feel better liked than ever.
Through the magic of dance, inquire as to the origin of their tools. If they are still nervous, dance amusingly to further put them at ease. If they have difficulty explaining the specifics, offer them sticks to draw in the ground with.
[3] They do not seem to be able to convey this information to you through dance. So you offer them sticks for making diagrams, and commence two-level communication immediately.
[5] Now they inform you of something interesting through a combination of dances and diagrams - the thing they make tools from is apparently made of two different types of rock, both found within the earth if one digs deep enough - a minority of one rock, a majority of another kind. The obtaining of these rocks is difficult, and not many can manage it, you find out as they explain, and you need complicated processes to get the necessary ingredients from each rock, then make each ingredient liquid with very hot fires, and mix them together. The process is such that you are fairly sure you have never heard of anyone doing anything even vaguely similar to any given step of it, and as such you do not think the process can be easily reproduced, given the circumstances.
Head back to my tribe.
[3] Eventually you reach your homeland, and the people are shocked to see animals following you without rebelling, and wonder what you have done to make them behave this way.
Allow animals to observe me placing the food and eventually give it to one directly.
[1] As soon as they see you placing the food, they refuse to touch it any longer for some reason.
RESPAWN AS THE LEADER OF A HORDE THAT IS INVADING THE 3 TRIBE UNION RIGHT NOW
[1] You are now Tlaxa, a teenage girl of the Spear Tribe dreaming of conquest of all that lies before you, but sadly aware that this is but a daydream and will likely remain so for all time - you do not even know of anything worth conquering in the area except the other people of the Three Tribes, and they're technically your friends.
Go see how the foreigners are doing. Also, if a strong wind presents itself, rage about how crap keeps getting stolen.
[1] Chantututu seems to have successfully interrogated them, and just as a strong wind begins you start raging at the tribe about how people seem so keen on taking everything without any sense of communal responsibility, only to be cut off mid-rant as the wind stops, feeling a little embarrassed as the tribe looks at you.
Die, after a long and full life. Be noticed in death. Become Yun.
[3] You die. Your death is relatively peaceful, but ultimately undignified due to certain circumstances, such as the fact you are found naked and the face you have made, your body contorted in an odd shape.
You are now Yun, and feel mystified and depressed by the sudden, inexplicable, undignified death of your mentor. Though his killer is well-known, you wonder why anybody would feel the need to poison the old man in such a terrible manner.
Rest and stock up on Oasis with Goat, then press onwards to the next one. Follow northern stars.
[1] You realize after you have left the oasis that you have no idea of what the northern stars are, and find yourself in a position where you seem to be dying of thirst in the wastes again, daybreak approaching while you still have no shelter. Goat bleats weakly as she walks ahead of you, and you feel she may be giving up on you now.
Grab fishing rods and baskets. Sail further south.
[1] You sail further south in the blackness, or at least you believe you do - once the ash finally clears, you are in the open sea - no land is in sight.
Make a powder out of the leaves. Drop some of it into Kutuk's meal to see whether it works. Not a lethal dose, but enough to show results.
[1] Kutuk ends up messily, violently dead as a result of a hallucinatory rampage. Datura is the herb of fools in many ways, and you have fallen for its tricks most easily - nonlethal, yet responsive doses are very difficult for an inexperienced person to administer, and the poisonous nature of the herb is highly variable, as you find out - being known as the only dabbler in the usage of the herb lately and also proving yourself guilty through several feeble attempts to lie your way out of it, you now languish in a cage for your crime, awaiting gruesome execution to avenge the death of the healer and appease the spirits of the other world, who demand what is due to the dead on all occasions, and the punish all of the living indiscriminately if the guilty are not split into seven parts, one burned, one fed to a wolf, one sunk in the sea, one smashed with a rock, one made into paint of atonement that the family and friends of the murdered will wear for two weeks while they mourn, one soaked in alcohol, the resulting marinade then drunk by the chief, and one dried and displayed above the tent of the chief for all to see.
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Topic: History: the Minimalist RTD (Read 125067 times)