Summer of Year One
Mother Forest
Over the long summer months, a great many things became clear. Shortly after the storm sickness befell your people, you cast over them a flurry of blue petals. For many of those only mildly affected by the storm sickness, their symptoms mostly disappeared. The blight on these individuals hardened and fell off in the coming weeks, and not a single case of remission occurred. Many of these Storm Scabs were collected by your healers and those skilled in nature magic, in order to study and learn more of their origin and perhaps, find a cure. For those who were greatest affected, the disease was not entirely cured, but the symptoms were greatly mitigated. Orcwork and their wortlings quarantined the blighted on one of the ships, bringing them supplies and constantly attempting to understand this strange disease.
As time progressed, it appeared as if there were two separate diseases, one affecting the needlefolk and one affecting the dryads. In the needlefolk, the disease mostly affected the limbs and their needles. It formed cankers on the skin, and spots on the needles and extremities. The cankers themselves were quite painful, but soothed by the work of healers at the very least. The disease seemed to be eating away at them, slowly weakening their bodies as the black sores slowly festered over the weeks. In the dryads, the disease was much different. A strange black ring would grow across their forehead and around their head, becoming bulbus and covered in bark and spines. In those most affected, it began to look like a crown. It would even effect the trees of the dryads, darkening the bark and thorns began to grow upon their branches. Unfortunately, this disease did little to hinder the bodies of the dryads, but instead fogged their senses and mind. First was the eyes, they became foggy and clouded until all slowly faded to black. Somewhere during that process, the mind began to falter. The dryads who grew thorn crowns began to stop making sense when they spoke, rambling in nonsense sentences, with unintelligible syllabus scattered throughout. Interestingly, their magic was not at all dulled, and neither was their need for water and sun. Indeed, they drank ever more deeply now than ever.
Otherwise, the uninfected went about establishing the colony here with mixed results. This jungle was dense and the soil strange to the touch. The dryads determined there was a very high acidity to the soil itself, an issue which made taking root here rather difficult. Whats more, many plants refused to yield their location to allow the dryads to be planted. Unlike the docile plants of your homeland, these plants had evolved to compete with vigor for their place in this jungle, and in the end, so to were your dryads. Magic had to be used in order to make clearings for them to be planted in this alien soil and even then, the jungle quickly began encroaching on their trees, casting them in shade. Parasitic vines were kept at bay, but remained a constant danger in this harsh place. For the needlefolk, the jungle, which had cooled slightly as the season changed, was a dense maze. Fruit and flowers were common here, and they could eat readily and often, but getting lost was an oft danger. Construction of homes went well as well, creating huts of large jungle leaves and what wood that could be found. For the orcwort, this jungle was perfect. There was an abundance of prey, and the thick growth of the jungle allowed them to see more clearly than ever before. Hunting was good. The orcwort was more accustomed to fighting for space and was less bothered than most plants in the shade and dense vegetation. Though, they often glimpsed strange beasts which seemed dangerous, they left eachother alone.
Nyagic
This cove ended up being a lovely local for the various cat people who had ventured here. On two thirds of the cove, tall rocky cliffs with spotted viney vegetation, and the remaining third, open to the sea. The high walls cast shade on one side in the morning, and shaded the other side in the afternoon, though the center of the bay was never cast into the cool shade.
Using your power, you drew forth life into the bay and the seeds of that power quickly blossomed. Where the bay had once had a sandy bottom interspaced with chunks of rock from the cliffs that had been propelled into the water through weather and wind, now those same dull rocks provided anchors for coral to take root and flourish. This created a beautiful patchwork of vibrant underwater islands surrounded by a sea of pristine white sand. All manner of corals grew here, creating a prismatic effect on each of the rocks. Stoney branching corals created fan and treelike structures which swayed slightly with the tides. Patches of multicolored zoanthid and polythoa corals created small areas which looked like bouquets of flowers. Floppy mushroom and bubbly richordia corals clung to the undersides and crags where the light was less strong, often having a purplish or dark red hue. And wide montipora corals created tables of stoney color, red, bright green, and purple, which reached out to catch as much light as possible. Throughout these coral colonies, creatures began to appear. Snails of interesting shell sizes and shapes, crabs of minute stature crawled through the tiny forests, spotted translucent shrimps flitted about. Clams, anemones, and other sessile organisms took up reseidence. Hermit crabs would quarrel over the best homes and starfish would lounge on open spaces. Then there were the fish. Schools of small bright yellow and neon blue fish would meander about, closely packed. Fat red fish would saunter about, hunting for prey. Dull green puffer fish grazed on the polythoa and zoanthids. Even the occasional eel or octopus could be spotted. By the end of summer, the ecosystem had taken root and was continueing to spread and flesh itself out as the coral grew unnaturally fast due to your power. A few more seasons, and it would appear to any that this reef had been here for millennia.
The various Nya took to swimming in the bay. The waters were clear and the sights beautiful. Though one day, one received a strange thought. A whisper of a thought in the back of their mind, a thought which didn't feel like their own, and was quickly forgotten. But over time, it reoccured to them and seemed more clear and familiar each time. Why did they have to get wet when they swam? The nya brought this up in conversation with a few mages. It seemed a decent idea and research began. Though there seemed to be more pressing matters at hand. Housing was in short supply, and while there was an abundance of small fish in the coral reef system, there were not many great eating fish of decent size like there were on the open ocean. One of the winged cats was suddenly inspired to scout the area, and seemed to be rather gifted at it. She gave tips to other catfolk, but it would take time for them to truly grasp the finer elements. The scouts discovered a jungle beyond the cliffs, but it was far to dense to fly though. A few scouts either became lost, or worse while exploring that dense hot rainforest. Other scouts travelled up the coast and found a the occasional shipwreck survivor, but much to their confusion, there were humans and gremlins among those they found. About two dozen nya were found over the course of the season.
Iyiania
The humans were not nobles, nor were they hunters, or even particularly gifted in the arts or sciences. Yet, what these humans had was grit and hard work. That is what had allowed them to eek out lives in the Old Land. Tilling less than fertile soil, chopping hard wood trees with dull axes, and hammering crooked nails into hand carved boards. This was the human condition, close to the earth, staving off death each season, and growing strong from their labors. That strength of body and spirit brought them forward to this new land, and with it, they would carve a new life here.
Shortly after arriving, the entirety of the humans who weren't scattered by the shipwreck found an intense clarity of mind unlike they had experienced before. Many felt as though something of this strange land was affecting them, improving them, and making their minds clear. Others argued that it was simply the cleanness of the air, the lack of the smoke which had clogged their lungs and eyes before they left the old world. They quickly took advantage of this blessing. While few were skilled in the way of hunting, spears made of ship banisters and other debris from the ship wreck were constructed. Out across the plains, several species were noticed. There were small groups of giant rabiphants, huge tusked elephant like rabbits, almost round with fat and fluff with wide ears and a trunk. While they were mostly docile, hunting them proved to be difficult. For while they seemed to waddle slowly, when they break into a charge, their rabitlike legs allow them to reach incredible speed. Several aspiring hunters suffered injures when trampled or gored by the beasts. Herds of buffallamas, buffalo with a long necks, shaggy fur and curled horns also roamed the plains. Smaller game existed here too. Small green rodents, quick brown flightless birds with long beaks and a crown of purple feathers, various species of toads and lizards. Strangest of all were the seemingly boneless furry creatures known as Amphs. They ungulate across the ground and were extremely soft and furry. It was soon discovered they were not good for eating, their flesh tasting awful. Some compared it to a slime, and they thanked Iyiania that, at least, the slimes of the Old Land would never bother them again. Some Amphs were taken in as pets, and seeing as they'd eat most any kind of vegetation, they took almost no maintenance. Hunting in the ocean went much better, as the mental ability increased aim significantly, and a large amount of fish were accurately speared by swimmers. Mostly a large blue, almost cylindrical fish, which roasted on a spit well without falling apart. The food was good, though near the end of the season, many worried of the chill in the air. Though they had found food now, there was little stored for winter.
For the majority of the season, the people received vague feelings and inspiration from your word. None were so attuned to you that they could truly hear your words cast over the budding civilization, but much of their content was felt. General goodwill towards all, including the outsiders, was the norm. The people were happy and kind towards one another. A distinct feeling of community had begun to blossom among the people who arrived here. A sort of system of government seemed to be developing out of this, as the people gathered together and discussed ideas for improvements to their lives, a community town hall of sorts. The people agreed that there was little in the way of wood, and that several of the ships would be repurposed. Several, along with a great bit of ship parts which were not all of human make, were used to build houses and small crude boats. The houses were arranged in a circle facing inward, with a firepit in the center of the village. The small boats lacked sails, but used oars instead. The spearfishers would go up and down the coast looking for fish, and would occasionally run into humans, gremlins, and catfolk, directing them to the village. All were accepted with open arms, and most were enthralled by the community and how open and kind it was. Especially the gremlins, they would readily join the village, though they never seemed to do much work. Though many catfolk were reclusive at first, when the smells of roasting fish began drifting through the air, it was not long before they had opened up.
Grel'Chak
Time for a slime is so very different from other mortal races. Most slimes don't even feel the passage of time. Yet, the summer came and went. When the slimes first arrived here, they were assaulted by lizardfolk, and the ensuring battle was quite bloody. Grel'Chak blessed the king slime with the ability to create corrosive pools of acid. The first band of lizard men who boarded the slimy sea vessel, were met with an unsavory surprise. A wave of corrosive liquid washed over them, and their flesh began to melt before their eyes. Though the fighting was far from over, as several dozen other warriors boarded other ships and more swam through the swamp. Strangely, these savages seemed to be familiar with fighting ships, and used some method to puncture holes into the bottom of the ships as they assaulted them. All of the ships containing mundane slimes sunk halfway into the swamp, filling with water until their hulls rested on the bottom. In a one on one fight, a slime was no match for these warriors. However, the slimes were multitudinous. After an initial blitz where the warriors would rush the deck and slay a few slimes, one by one they would be surrounded and engulfed. A fair number of slimes were lost in the fighting. Of course, The king slime and the two red slimes, which seemed faster and more durable than most, easily defeated the lizardmen boarders aboard their vessel. However, the acid of the king slime did more damage to the ship than any of the lizardfolk could, melting huge sections of it. It buckled down the middle, splitting into two and sinking. By the end of the foray, about eighty lizard men were slain, at the cost of 150 slime lives. The rest of the lizardfolk fled to the west. Then the dissolution began, and the slimes feasted. Several slimes gained scaly exteriors as a result, the shifting scales providing extra durability and form, but reducing flexibility.
Over the next few months, the slimes lived their nearsighted lives in comparative peace. Though their ships were no longer boyant, the majority of them remained above the surface. During the day, slimes could be seen lounging on the decks and other parts of the ship. Others swam across the surface of the water, consuming muck and algae as they skimmed the surface. Some came across prey in the waters. Large insects, the occasional fish crab or turtle, and even the rare swimming primate. Other slimes made their way into the trees, devouring fruit and leaves and slowly digesting them. There was an abundance of delicious rot as well. Fallen trees, partially submerged, were swarmed and dissolved by slimes by the dozen.
Interestingly, several slimes were slain near the end of the season by gun wielding insect people. To the south, some were discovered pushing entire ships through the swamp. It was a slow process, and occasionally one would wander into the water to find food or into the trees. Run ins were few, as it was near the edge of where slimes would wander, but it became clear to you that another god was watching these encounters.
Juramanus
When the muranids stepped off their ships, they found piles of food and raw lumber awaiting them a few hundred feet from the shore. It was just as the priest had said. This brought great joy to many of the members of your new colony. However, as Matteo Ganari had wagered, the supplies of the ship as well as though which appeared, Lady Giusepi and her men had no claim to the supplies they had carried with them here, or found on the shore. She stared on with disbelief, then with a deep hatred at the priest and at the other merchant barons as the supplies were split among the other two baron lords. A sorcerer indeed. I should have known Ganari would be so low as to enlist a heretic from one of his churches. May Juramanus smite you down like the wizarding swine you are. She then spat into the priests face before storming off. A few hours later, while the muranids slept aboard the ships, having yet to make a reasonable camp, there was a thunderous boom which woke your colonists. An explosion had occurred in the priest's ship and it was sinking into the ocean! The crew rushed to lifeboats, or simply jumped overboard to escape the flames and sinking vessel. Luckily, the priest survived the explosion and only sustained mild injuries, as did all but a few unfortunate souls who had become trapped or incapacitated by the blast. From what they could tell, the explosion was caused by a powder keg, detonated on the exterior of the ship. From the placement, it seemed intended for the priest, but without knowing his exact location, narrowly missed him. Immediately a militia was formed by the other two barons. Yet, when they went to gather guns, the vast majority of the armaments had been stolen. In the distance a fire raged on shore.
By torchlight, it quickly became clear what had occurred. Spurred by the overt use of magic by the priest, at least as it appeared to the muranids, Lady Giusepi had organized her men and set about a nefarious plot. They had gathered the armaments from their ship, at least as much as they could carry with them. Then using a life boat, affixed a few barrels of powder with a long fuse to the side of the ship the priest belonged to, and then made landfall. There they set similar explosive devices in the piles of supplies, which destroyed much of them. On the beach, between the ships and the smoldering piles of what was once supplies, was a pile of empty powder kegs, which had their contents dumped into the shallow water around them. Atop it was a parchment, held down with a dagger plunged into the wood. It read: "Thou shalt destroy magic where-ever one finds it." Not a single one of Giusepi's crew was found among the ships, and judging from the tracks in the sand, their entire band traveled inland across the plains.
The rest of the season was one of hardship. The actions of Giusepi had instilled fear and distrust among the muranids. Not only did they not trust eachother, especially didn't trust the rats employed by the other baron. Even more so, distrust of the priest was shared by both crews. He was avoided by most all of the rats, with the exception of Matteo Ganari and a few others who believed he was a prophet of Juramanus. Few knew anything about magic, and less knew what could or couldn't be achieved by a mage or an act of god, so few could truly trust the priest. Eventually Matteo realized he'd never asked the priest name. It was Valteo Esposito. He had been a pastor of a small church which burned in the dying of the Old World, along with his son.
Yet, as time went on, the situation improved. In the following months, the supplies brought with the muranids lasted much longer than anticipated. Mostly due to having fewer mouths to feed and less houses to build. Several of the ships were beached and deconstructed for lumber, leaving three intact. There was no one particularly skilled in carpentry, and the homes constructed were shoddy, but they kept the elements at bay. Mostly they consisted of single rooms, though the barons had multilevel houses, boasting at least a dozen rooms and an excess of luxury. Food was a main concern as the season passed. Few guns an ammunition were on the ships which belonged to the remaining barons. Though, a species of large rabbit-like elephants was spotted on the plains. Despite being poor shots, hunting parties occasionally managed to fell one of the beasts, and the muranids would feast for days. Though, many worried as the wind began to chill, that the supplies wouldn't last through the coming winter.
Upon scrying the local area, you discovered several things of note. To the north, there are rolling foothills which boast several small forests. It seems a strange cult of some sort has landed there and is building some sort of fortress. To the south and to the west, the plains continue as far as you can see. You detect the faint presence of another deity watching the plains to your south.
The Great Wrench
The gremlins, battered, beaten, and soaked throroughly by the waves were only mostly surprised when chunks of ships and machinery started rearranging themselves into a new machine. They looked at eachother and shrugged, some asking questions 'like did you do that?' or 'Is that why it blew up?' or saying things like 'Bentsteel probably...' or "Classic Brightglimmer showmanship.' There were a few comments about product placement opportunities and emerging markets as well, at least among the more mercantile oriented gremlins. And the more religious gremlins, of course, whispered your name under their breath, or shouted your name if their business was being charlatans. "Made by god" is apparently a powerful marketing tool, especially when the tall races don't bother to ask which god.
And so the work began. Brightglimmer looks startled at first to hear your words. He looks around, left, then right, and finally up for a long moment, his eyes squinting at the sky. He then shakes his head a few times rapidly and pulls out a half drunk vial of green liquid and pours it out with a 'hurrmph'. Still, regardless of source, he takes the machine and begins trying to rent it out. It doesn't go quite so well, as these things occasionally do. He found some talls, humans by the look of them, and tried to rent out the machine. He told them of it's wonder, how it could excavate just about anything. Yet, the humans were broke. They said they got caught up in a freak storm and lost all their belongings. Alveros forced a smile as a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. He thanked them for their time and rushed away whistling haphazardly before the humans could ask him if he knew more about the storm. Eventually he managed to rent it to some catfolk in exchange for a hefty supply of fish. They spent the afternoon writing their names in the earth with the machine, so as to let their god know where they where. Averos forced a smile. For some reason, he knew that message wasn't received.
Meanwhile, over the course of the season, the gremlins set about building a workshop city. It was a beautiful thing, composed of metal and gears and all matter of thingamajigs and doohickeys. It was a respectable establishment, complete with unsanctioned experiments, explosions, flashing lights, big red buttons, and everything one would need for scientific discovery, without all those things that get in the way like workers compensation, hazard pay, or rule of law. Quite a few good and bad experiments took place. Most of note was the creation of vehicles, invented by one Celphine Bentsteel. These six wheeled carts, complete with three sets of flexible suspension, could navigate the open plains with ease. Theoretically. They unfortunately required a good deal of coal to power, and the gremlins were running incredibly low on coal. In fact, the fact that they ran out of fuel is the reason they don't have ships, and therefore, why Celphine had enough parts to build two of these vehicles. She found a sort of poetic symmetry in that.
Over the summer, hunting was good. The gremlins had a few powerful, if not prone to jamming and or exploding, home made guns. While they varied in quality and design, the end result was often the same. Something would die. Whether it was the gremlin or the target was up to chance really. The main source of food was the herds of buffallamas were the best targets, in the gremlin's opinion. They huddled close together when they felt endangered, unless they stampeded, but the gremlin's small stature rarely caused that result before the sounds of gunfire spooked the herd. But by shooting into the crowd, most times the bullet hit. Often there was more food than could be eaten before it went bad and there were experiments as to smoking meat. But it seems that hanging slabs of meat over toxic experiment fumes is not a good way to prevent spoilage. As the season turned to fall, and the air began to chill, the lack of fuel for heat and lack of food began to become the topic at hand for most gremlins. Each one wanted to monopolize these concerns and become rich off it, but as of yet none have succeeded.
Acter
Seeing the sorry state of his followers, Acter felt compelled to improve their situation. With an expense of heavenly power, he snuffed the flames out in a single instant. The heat and fire disappeared and the ships, while smoldering slightly, were only slightly damaged by the event. He looked among his followers and uplifted a young Sciro by the name of Jamx Blueclaw, who was aptly named after the ombre blue speckles across his taupe carapace. Jamx was a dabbling mage, but was more gifted when it came to repairing firearms, and so had pursued that as a career. He has two younger sisters, an uncle, and an a niece who had also made the journey across the ocean aboard the same ship. They share the same coloration and surname. He clearly heard your words and felt power swell into him as he was marked as a prophet of Acter. He quickly drew up some plans and shared them with a few of the other sciro. There weren't many skilled carpenters to speak of aboard any of the ships, but they had the tools and agreed without the engines, and with the sails being inoperable in the overhang and shallow conditions of the swamp, it was a question of abandoning the ships or giving it a shot.
And so the incilantro and sciro ventured into the swamp. It was far from a safe or pleasant experience. The swamp gas clung close to the surface of the water, and made breathing rather difficult as your followers ventured out on the lifeboats to nearby trees. Dizziness, aches, headache and vomiting appeared after only a few minutes. It was rather difficult, compounded with the fact that the trees nearby were not great for long sturdy poles, as their branches were thin or far out of reach. Most of the trees were some kind of cypress perhaps, maybe a few tupelo, it was hard to tell as your followers aren't well versed in tree species, and these were not present in the Old World. It took several weeks for enough smaller trees to be collected and worked into poles, partially due to a restriction on artificed tools which may cause a spark. In the meantime, foraging was the main source of food. An interesting floating bulb plant, which was named swamp garlic, was discovered. It had a harsh biting taste, but it was clearly identifiable and easy to reach. Fishing wasn't really attempted as there was no way to cook the meat.
After the poles were finished, it took several more weeks to navigate out of the swamp. The going was incredibly slow. The bottom of the swamp lacked any real purchase and seemed to be endless mud. This paired with the rising and lowering of the tides causing ships to be caught for hours on end, or longer, made the journey take almost an entire season. By the end of the season however, the ocean was in sight. You had scryed the surrounding area for places to make landfall. To the south, there was a dense hot jungle full of ominous plants. Interestingly enough, there was a band of what appeared to be catfolk savages living in a cove on the edge of that jungle. Then to the north, the swamps give way to vast open plains with little large vegetation. Along the coast, small groups of humans, catfolk, and gremlins had built temporary camps. These were all small meager attempts to survive, with two exceptions. A fair ways to the north there was an metal town, full of smoke and fumes, and quite a long ways past that, almost on the edge of your vision, was a large gathering of humans.
The Hand of Thal
The Cult of the Red Hand, solemn and worn from their travels, made landfall. The ruins spotted in the distance were an hour or two journey from the shore, visable only due to a crumbling tower in the distance. The walk through the foothills was pleasant, the hills and troughs made the land difficult to navigate, but standing atop any of the larger hills and one was gifted a beautiful panorama view of the nearby vista. A few small groups of buffallamas could be seen standing atop hills grazing, but they kept their distance. There were small grey hill crabs which scuttled into holes in the ground as the cultists approached. Scrub and brush was small and rare, but there were a few small forests in the area, mostly composed of some sort of pine tree. To the south, the hills rolled on for miles, and off to the north a mountain range which extended from the coast inland and out of sight.
Upon reaching the ruins, the congregation discovered an outpost of somekind, proof that mortals have, at one point, walked these lands. It was a single small keep. The walls of the keep were not symetrical, but rather had been built to fit the land around it. From above, it would have looked like a teardrop made of straight lines. It was built upon a tall flat hill, and one could not help but notice the strategic position of it's placement. From it's towers, even crumbling as they are, on could see in all directions for quite a distance, and the natural geography of the hills would make it difficult for a large army to approach from the north, being funneled between two steep hills. Indeed, evidence of a road leading north was found, overgrown and half buried as the cultists approached the walls. The fortress doors were once composed of iron and wood, but rust and decay had reduced them to mangled skeletons of rusty metal. One wall had crumbled inwards it appeared, and the cultists made their way within the outer walls. There they found a few stone buildings built into the outer wall, with a courtyard in the center. One of the buildings appeared to be a storehouse, though the supplies there had long ago rotted or been eaten by animals. It had a small subterranean root cellar as well. The storehouse took up the entirety of the eastern wall. On the southwest corner, there was what appeared to be a barracks, decayed bed frames and trunks lined two rooms on the bottom floor, with a single room above, likely for a captain or leader of some sort. Notably, the beds were much larger than one would expect, as were the doorways, near twice the size one of the cultists would need. The last building building was on the northeast corner, connected to the storehouse. Seemed that the main level was a dining area. A huge stone fireplace took up the majority of the north wall, across from the entry. Off to the eastern wall was a door which lead into a small kitchen area, which in turn lead into the storehouse. Though, the tables had long ago crumbled to dust, dirt covered tapestries depicted white skinned humanoids of some sort clad in black armor and wielding large weapons. There, above the fireplace, two of the weapons were displayed, though one had broken free from it's brackets and fallen to the floor, cracking the stone where it landed and standing almost upright. They were as large as one of your cultists, a huge black flanged mace with a ring of spikes near the center of it's head. One of the larger heels went to lift it, but couldn't manage to lift it, much less swing it. Once he touched it, unbeknownst to the cultists, you felt a slight stir in the area. As if something dangerous had turned a curious eye towards your colonists. Unknowing of this, the cultists began setting about their work.
Moreal was gifted the Tablet of Reunion. In a dream, he saw your visage walk across the ocean, carrying a tablet. Your image walked across the land and water to this very keep. Though in the dream, it was undamaged and it's grey stone intact and new. You buried the tablet beneath the courtyard and then turned to look at Moreal's dream self. Your visage waved it's red hand, and Moreal came to know the purpose of this relic. Your visage then nodded and departed. Then time sped up incredibly. The seasons passed in a blur. Day, night, summer, winter, spring, fall, all passed in a mater of seconds. Until they finally slowed, and Moreal watched him and the other cultists appear on the horizon, walking towards the keep. He then awoke, and took this strange dream to discuss with the other palms and heels. They gathered around as Moreal dug at the earth with his hands, and surely enough, there the tablet was, clearly a relic of your creation. The cultists were filled with wonder and admiration at the sight of a holy relic so far from home, and it redoubled their idea that perhaps your blood did in fact rest upon this land.
Over the next few months, Moreal worked on rebuilding what he could with the tablet. It was slow going. The tablet's power could repair the walls, but it was slow to lift the stones, one at a time. Some stones seemed to be missing and had to be replaced, which further slowed the project. The beds, tables, and other wooden furniture took less time, and were repaired in a matter of weeks. Oddly, the torn tapestries and fire place seemed unaffected by the power of the tablet, as did the strange weapons. Moreal did not know what to make of this, but it was taken as a bad omen. The maces were eventually dragged into the corner of the main hall by a half dozen of the strongest cultists.
Meanwhile the other cultists set about making a life here. They had few weapons with which to hunt the creatures of this land. While they were versed in blood magic, there were few offensive range spells known which would aid in this endeavor. As a result, food was mostly foraged from the forests. A kind of mild tasting melon was rather easy to locate, and many were harvested. A few cultists became quite good at grabbing hillcrabs from their holes. A small stream, likely running all the way from the snowey mountaintops, provided a source of small fish as well. Though their diet was monotonous and bland, their bellies were full. Though, many worried as the temperature began to drop. A shrill wind ran across the hills, and as summer ended, the temperature fell swiftly, especially with the wind. Many came to worry about the prospect of winter. Some melons had been stored in the root cellar, but it was from enough to make the cult through the winter. Another concern was the lack of wood. The cultists lacked axes as well as other tools and weapons, and firewood was limited to what they could collect from the distant woods.
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Topic: Gods of New Eras IC (Read 3630 times)