Xorvintaal Turn 2
North Badlands
In the great badlands of this land, far in the north, the first mortals of this world crept out from under their stones and withdrew from their hidden safehavens, to look up and bask in the sun. These were the Ittlithir, known as those who speak, but do not walk. In time, this came to have a double meaning, often used as a euphemism for the race, as well as a description of their demeanor. The Ittlithir were a lackadaisical race, and could often be spotted lounging in the sun, basking in waxing and waning sunlight of the morning and afternoon, retreating back into shelter as the midday sun climbed murderously high into the sky and releases a volley of heat down upon the parched earth below. They often formed small communities, of one hundred or so members living in nearby burrows and gathering in groups to laze about and meditate beneath the sun, only to retire into the safety of their burrows and discuss what thoughts they had been dreaming upon that day. This lead them to be a very social culture, meditating in large groups, only to splinter and discuss before returning again once more to meditate under the sun. Information was widely shared and discussed, and one might think the Ittlithir to be quite educated, however this did little for the actual prospects of the race, as few went out of their way to either use or build upon this knowledge, save for immediate concerns such as the avoidance of poisonous plants. Such is the case with the copper discovered in the area, many came to know of the strange green rocks, but few found them at all useful to their concerns of the day. For a time, this existence lived on peacefully, save for what wild beast or Shalefeather wandering down from the mountain, might happen upon the Ittlithir. Until the Ifioi came of course.
South Badlands
Not much can be said of the Southbadlands for this age, for little went on here directly. From the north, wandering Ittlithir began to travel south. Some simply wandered, unpushed nor pulled by any goal or destination. Others ran through the evening twilight, the sky as red as the blood spilt on the ground. Driven south in an attempt to escape the Ifloi, the South Badlands now hosts several small populations of Ittlithir, which may gain a foothold here if fate does not intervene.
Though of course, there is one exception, a small area of unusual stone uncovered by the joyous flight of Cwrec. Many moons later, a strange being visited these unusual stones. Accompanied by shambling creatures, of which life clung deftly to death, the being stole from the earth many of these stones, and retreated to their stronghold to the west.
Northern Mountains
Unlike the quiet swamps to the west, the mountains were the focus of the gods' attention. The many tusked Ravana laid down first touch upon this land, and from their hand they gave rise to the Ifloi. The Ifloi were much like centaurs, possessing the upper body of a man, and the lower body of a boar. Yet, their faces were tusked like their creator Ravana, and a wreath of a mane surrounds their heads. Their torso boasts many arms, with most individuals having several sets.
A strong race, by arm and hearts account both, they formed a hierarchy around sparring both with word and weapon. Insults and club would swing through the air in tandem, and failure to properly dodge either could lead to a defeat. And so the hierarchy became established, each victor imposing their will upon the defeated. The Ifloi, blessed so were they by Ravana, that they had gained the power to summon forth their will, forcing it upon your lessors, and sharing it with your equals. And so it was for a time, stable. The hierarchy was established, and the Ifloi became moderately peaceful and most productive. Working in close groups, communicating in loose telepathic messages, hunting parties were rarely unsuccessful, save for the occasional landside or friend lost over cliff's edge.
Yet, this did not last than more than an a few seasons, for two discoveries would drastically destabilize the hierarchy. The first was the rise of the Earth Spirit Obisi. Garmathis, Querent of Desire, plunged their mirrored arm deep into the earth, and drew forth a tower of dark glossy stone. Formed from and bound to this very rock, Obisi awoke and claimed dominion as the primary elemental spirit of the region. As they did so, the ground shook and the Ifloi sensed the stones begin to stir. Some, seeking glory or territory, ventured to this monolith. None returned. Not due to death, though there was a fair deal of that involved, but because Obisi had bested them in combat. Those that survived against the spirit who's flesh was harder than stone and who's fists could deflect weapons unarmored, found themselves splintered from the hierarchy, their loyalty claimed by a being who's will was as immovable as the mountains themselves.
The second discovery was to the east, along the mountain's edge. There, the Ittlithir were discovered. The small snakelike inhabitants who lived near the roots of the mountain, did not understand nor fair particularly well in the challenges presented by the Ifloi. And quickly, blood was spilled. Soon the formality of the challenge was abandoned altogether, and the Ittlithir found their wills supplanted by those of their conquerors. And so the hierarchy became unclear once more, as many who were not equals, found those most eastward, blessed by minions from the badlands. Of course, they made poor minions, lazy and contemplative, a state most often correct through violence by their Ifloi masters. And such, chaos began to once again characterize the Ifloi. A new hierarchy is beginning to form, as the slavers of the east turn their eyes to the badlands below. Some ventured south, to claim their own dominion, seeking to claim the edge of the mountain so that they may raid untouched badlands for slaves. Those that do, do not return and are never heard from again.
The South Mountains
Far to the south of the rise of the Ifloi and the plight of the Ittlithir, another civilization began to rise from the depths. They broke forth from beneath the ground, and gazed up for the first time at the sky high above. These were the dwarves of Mountainheim, stout beings born of the mudstone drawn up from the swamps below by the rising of the mountain. Their skin was as the stone around them, brownish for the most part, though many were of lighter dryer tones, and some even had flecks of clay coloration. They had not yet become one people, and their features were quite disperse. Some had scowling brows, others had begun to bald before they bothered to grow hair, and others wore merry smiles upon their faces as they turned them towards the sun. Some were muscled, others, rounder. Yet, despite all this variety, two features were held by all the dwarves, deep onyx eyes and a love of the earth. As they came from the earth, so did their city. Great and grand were its many halls, carved from the stone itself as if an ancient river had formed the walls of their homes and the columns of the kingdom. Here the dwarves set about their lives, spending their days expanding the halls and mining the earth for stone and ore. The forges were lit, the mushroom fields planted, and the dwarves began to build an empire.
One such entrepreneurial dwarf was named Auranor Copperbeard. Auranor was a dwarf born of slightly different make, though wrought from the same stone, the hands that shaped Auranor did not belong to Jud, but to their neighbor. This fact was not readily apparent, but is the root of Auranor's eventual rise into the upper echelons of this budding society. Auranor was a sharp eyed dwarf, with black whispy hair that had begun going silver underneath. They were quite shrewd in their tactics, often using charm and tricks to get a good deal from one, and sell to another at quite the price. In a short while, Auranor had made a good deal of money, despite having worked very little at all. Yet, despite their gains, Auranor was restless. The mind's of dwarves were dense, not impenetrable, and soon their dark eyes will turn towards Auranor's wealth and begin to wonder how much should have gone to them. Of this, Auranor began to grow worried more and more. And so he prepared to leave, taking with him the strange artifact which had blessed him with such luck, and which guided him gently into wealth. The wider world called to him, and he set out with gold and goods in search of other dwarves which lay beyond this corner of the mountain.
For a time, the industrious dwarves lived and worked as they pleased. Though one day they might become well learned in these arts, these dwarves were young, their smithing arms weak and their knowledge of the earth was like that of a child, naïve, but full of curiosity. Crude weapons and armor of soft ores, and small forges characterized the dwarves, and perhaps one day might give rise to knowledge and craftsmanship as the race matures.
That is of course if nothing derails this progress, as is the case with Ygdri the mad druid. While Ygdri did rise near the end of this age, there were a great many dwarves birthed from the mountainhome, and it was only a matter of time before some came to wander high into the peaks so that they may gaze out into the world beyond the mountain. And from their vantage point, the sharp eyed among them could spot the blue-green glint of the distant fortress. A group of curious dwarves ventured out to get a closer look, returning with tales of a castle of strange metal not born from the earth, and of a tree which rose above and rooved the strange place. Here the dwarves began to turn away from their smithing hammers and look to their swords. For the fantastical tales heralded much more disturbing questions as to who could build such a garden, and how those who live there might respond to the fledgling dwarven civilization.
And of course, these questions were quite justified, as a wielder of dark magic had taken up residence on the north eastern slopes of the southern mountains. A druid turned necromancer had appeared along with the structure the dark sorcerer Ygdri inhabits. While they were undoubtedly powerful, they were perhaps a little odd. They looked like an Ifioi, though they had enough arms to insult Ravana, some of which were plants, vines which moved with the wizard as an arm moves with a man. Yet, despite their imposing visage, tusked of face, wreathed white bark cloak, and arms which seem unable to lay still for they possessed too much excitement, they were rather a friendly being. Certainly much friendlier than the rest of the Ifioi. But their experimentation was a source of contention. Here is a rather friendly creature which might chat with you about the weather as vines ensnare the bones of the dead and give rise to shambling minions. While many of the first created were animals, in time, Ifioi came. Many came alone, seeking new territories so that they may come to rival the slavers in the north. Almost all challenged Ygdri, for this was what they knew. And such is it that none were successful. Few died of course, Ygdri had no intent to use the undead for evil purposes, simply for manual labor, and so most were spared. In time, there came to be many, and new Ifioi stopped arriving from the north, claiming these lands cursed. And so a new hierarchy formed around Ygdri, as those she defeated, came under her service. This was ideal, as the Ifloi yearned for conflict and their presence led to a sudden rise in available test subjects. As a result of one such Ifioi excursion into the badlands, for the purpose of collecting slaves and corpses, Ygdri sensed something that piqued his interest. Ancient fossils, stone hard bones of bygone beings. Later Ygdri returned with many minions and claimed a third of the bones found here.
Snugglehearth Forest
Far away from the action of this world, far from the bloodshed, far from the mountain peaks, far from the dark sorcerers and elemental spirits, a race of bearfolk were ascended by Muffins, god of chaos and destroyer of worlds. Muffins called these being Gulpers. They were like grizzly bears with thumbs, more accustomed to walking on their hind legs than their ancestors. The gulpers lived a very pleasant life, for they had been born into quiet solitude and had no murderous neighbors to speak of. They went about their lives very well content. The forest was rich with bounty, fruits, mushrooms, tubers, and nuts. Game was common, and carrion a well met surprise. The gulpers had quite an appreciation for food, and had a palette that extended beyond what other mortals might consider delectable. And such, variety was the spice of life, as the day determined the menu, the gulpers became quite creative chefs in their own right. They lived in caves for the most part, lining the floors with pelts and snoozing in piles of soft warm piles of fur before a fire, with the smells of good food and smoke all around them. Of all the mortals in the world, it is perhaps the Gulpers who are the happiest, if not that, then at least the coziest.
The Plains
Of all the regions of the world, the plains is likely the largest, depending on how you count the mountains. Nonetheless, while the plains are wide, they are sparse. An ocean of wild grass, dotted by the occasional island of trees, or broken by a small brook flowing from the mountains. There it is that one would find the Lakoni, the six legged centuars who call this place home. They gallop across the plains in massive herds, nomadic communities which feed upon the wild grains and forage for fruits and vegetables among the grasses. They have a very communal lifestyle, with the labors of one being shared by all and the labors of all belonging also to one. Each does more than their share, and the race prospers in quiet seclusion.
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Topic: Xorvintaal (IC) (Read 2054 times)