You have the fallen warrior carried on the backs of his kinsmen. His remaining arm hangs limply by a thread, and his legs are a grisly, flat ruin. You bang your Staff on the floor, and your warriors follow suit, clanging their axes in a great clamor.
"Warriors! A noble son of snow has died heroically this day!" you announce.
The crowd lets out a shout of grief.
"His name was Olaf-132, and this day he has risen into the Great Hall, where he will be one with the Machine-Father forever!" his brother shouts.
The crowd lets out a yell of joy.
"And into the Great Hall we shall all go, my kinsmen, as Olaf-132 has!" you say, raising your Great Staff high into the biting air.
The crowd cheers and screams with vigor, eager for the next fight, for the next chance of a glorious death.
--
In their shaman's hut, your men found many machines of war and of peace. A pair of vital omni-generators, a cache of spare parts and a flash-scroll of relic files containing ancient lore - a treasure worth much to many.
A great battleaxe was found on their altar, and after much doubt, you convinced your men that the Machine-Father would forgive them if they defeated many enemies in his name, and took the blessed weapon.
Though meat and machine was found in abundance, signs of your neighbors are scarcer. It is as if they've gone without a trace - become one with the air, and blown away into forever.
--
You return triumphant, with the body of Olaf-132 returned to his wailing wife and weeping father. His cybernetics were divvied - his good arm to his growing son, his brain-implants returned to his father, and his warrior-organs given to his warrior-kin.
You have the Synthesiser installed in your igloo. You thank it for its assistance, and plead it not to poison you and your people. It agrees, and you take its word for it.
Now that your tribe's bellies are fed, and will continue to be fed, you can set your gaze on other pastures. You could march now, to raid or wage war, or you could fortify your tribe, train men, or whatever else you deem necessary before you unite the technorth.
----
The Great Machine
Health: Fine
Inventory:
-Robes
-Axe
-The Great Staff (+1 to magic rolls)
Activated Systems:
-Reality Manipulator (Partial) (Only three spells can be learned.)
-Heightened Senses (Partial) (Machine-eyes allow you to witness the world-changing winds.)
Known Spells:
-Machine Speak (Converse with the sleeping spirits of dead technology.)
-Mend (You lay hands upon the wounded machine and cure its ailments.)
-Tinker (The muses of machines whisper the words of geniuses, allowing you to create marvelous inventions.)
99 Cyberbarians (Mighty marauders from the technorth. They graft cybernetics unto their body as signs of strength and as trophies of victory.)
200 Non-combatants (The old, the young, and the unfit for a fight. These care for your men and their gear, and toil to feed themselves and your army.)
High morale.
Average provisions.
Synthesiser.