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1

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: July 03, 2018, 02:48:40 AM »

Shef, his blood pumping and his brain on fire cries out to the havens and beats his chest in grief at the Shaman's words.  Surely, this means the end for him - to be rejected by the Sea, the Sea.  As the shaman calls for him to follow he is overcome by the knowledge that the Sea that he had yearned for during his years of slavery, the Sea whose memory had kept him going, the Sea who had been a constant friend in his early days, the Sea had rejected him.  Shef lets out a pitiful wail and falls to the ground, senseless of anything besides his grief and the darkness inside of himself.

There is a long silence from the shaman, who watches with mixed feelings. There is obviously a great deal of pity for Shef- up until now, he has been Haluti. And now because of circumstances out of his hands, he's not. At least, not in any way his people will recognize him as one. But the animosity challenges the empathy held by the shaman. Pursing his lips, his gaze wanders elsewhere- namely at the raging waves beyond before the shaman glances down to his feet searchingly and then back up to Shef.

The sound of his feet rustling through the sand fades in to Shef's ears as he wanders closer, before he leans to grasp on his shoulders and give him a shake. "Listen." he says, loud and demanding. "Your taint is too great. It was a hopeful notion, but the ritual is a failure. Calm yourself, there's still hope." As much as the words themselves are meant to be uplifting- the Shaman's tone, both weak and holding back a suspecting tone, manages to balance any hope building out.

"There are more rituals. More drastic rituals. We can try to do these- to wash you clean, but first you must be calm. We must tell the Halut-dan the result of this ritual, and then we must go to Rogal on what is suitable for you next. Can you do this?"

The shamans words linger, somewhat quiet in comparison to the roaring sea and the great crackles from the sky- his concern meant as a small beacon.

2

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: June 27, 2018, 04:07:17 PM »

They go back downriver double-time, and find a place in the forest suitable for a camp. They wait out the night as the rain falls down on them as if thousands of hammers fell from the sky.

One of the tents, not properly pitched, falls apart in the wind, and is swept away in the storm. The two men in that tent, soaked, beg for places in any of the other tents.

The least cramped tent take in the two men, trying to do what they can to help dry them off however they can to avoid sickness- as well as trying to help ensure warmth while they try and wait out the night.

By now, the strong wind and pounding rain had offered no ease for the shamans conducting the ritual. The tumultuous waves threaten the grip of the shamans. Finally, a particularly large wave approaches the shamans from the sea, and they too come to grips with their mortality.

At this point, Shef can take no more and begins to struggle.  His years of toil have made him strong, but being without air as long as he has been, he is unable to use his full strength.  Nonetheless, the shamans cannot help but feel the rising panic in his tightening grip and thrashing legs.

The shamans stare out towards the massive oncoming wave, their grips wavering from a mixture of growing fear and the growing resistance from Shef. They look down and then back up to one another before they grab Shef and yank him up and out of the water as they begin pulling him along and out.

Trying to wade out of the water and bringing Shef up to the shore, one shaman manages to get him up well enough before the other abandons his grip on Shef altogether and finds himself overtaken in his attempt to rush further to get to the shore. Even when Shef and the one remaining shaman hit the sands, their hit at the knees with the water and knocked over.

When the water begins to pull out from the wave, the other shaman is nowhere to be seen- his fate made obvious as they look over at the tide crashing against the natural walls of the cove.

The shaman pants, clearing his throat before he hobbles up to his feet and looks down at Shef. "You..." he begins to murmur for a moment before he looks out to the sea, "To reject you so strongly..." Stammering for a moment or two, the shaman raises his hands and draws his hood back revealing an aged and wrinkled face- seeming to be going on from his middle ages to the beginnings of elderly years with a graying beard that grows out in tufts.

"This ritual isn't enough." he says once more, shaking his head before he looks back down to Shef, "Not for you." he adds with a steely gaze. And Shef thought the other looks he had been getting were bad... But it's now more along the lines of the looks the violent outcasts get. Fear.

The shaman turns and begins heading off in a hurry, holding himself to protect himself from the cold of the storm as he seems to begin leaving Shef behind. When Shef thinks he's about to go off, he pauses and looks back, "Hurry, before your presence makes her lash out again." he says, waiting for him.

3

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: June 24, 2018, 06:43:37 PM »

Shef freezes for a split second and resigns himself once again to whatever end the sea holds for him.  He takes a few deep breaths before wading shakily toward the shamans, his entire body shaking from a strange mixture of mortal fear of death and gleeful excitement at being reborn into the clan.

The cold sea water wraps up around Shef as he wades forwards, the calloused and wrinkled hands of the shamans resting at his shoulders as they take a firm grip on him. Such a touch would bring back bad memories, were it not for the nostalgic sounds of the stormy tide and the familiar faces who are conducting the ritual.

"Three, two, and..." They murmur before they lean Shef back and hold him down under the water. Now Shef is completely enveloped in the freezing salt water. He lasts for a good few moments before he finds that he can't hold out much longer- air bubbles escaping his lips and nostrils to rise up and above. Did they always hold people under this long? It went so much quicker when he was a babe, yet right now it feels excruciatingly long.

If he doesn't do something, they may end up drowning him. And the idea of death offers no comfort.

4

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: June 21, 2018, 06:04:32 PM »

The men heading toward Hamcha dissent, pointing out the dark, rolling clouds. "If we return now, the gifts would be soiled. The Halut-dan would be displeased."

As they head back down to the boats, a few men in the canoe point out the storm moving in. Seeing by the downpour to the NW, they have half an hour before the deluge will hit them.

Dolo squints, looking over at the clouds rolling in before he snorts and motions them back. "Bring it back. We'll hold it until then. And get those canoes flipped and on land." he says before he stomps back over to his tent- the men carrying out his orders.

The villagers of Utisho take notice of the incoming storm, and several of the people begin to talk to one another. The Yaksha remains unfazed, standing still. As the sound of rolling thunder proceeds over the storm, his right hand leaves his staff, lifting it into the air, his palm facing the people. The drums and singing stop. Only the sound of the wind blowing at the countryside can be heard.

The score of children arrange in the common area in front of the fire, somewhat spread out, but presented to the Yaksha, hands behind their backs.

One of the men behind Shau speaks in a hushed voice, "There's a storm incoming. It looks like we don't have long before it arrives."

Shau looks around at the sky for a moment or two before he stares back down over to those at the village. When the beating of the drums and the choir comes to a halt, Shau's nostrils flare in a bit of annoyance before him and other head back in order to beat the storm.

"We have to go back now. Come on." The others wade through the foliage and head back over to their boats, the commanders looking back and forth before noticing them and waving them over, "Get in! We're going to find a spot to wait out the storm!"

The scouts climb back into their canoes and begin setting off to go find a spot suitable for the group to wait out the storm.

The shamans and Shef exit the tent to a storm just setting in. Well this is going to be fun.

Shef looks up at the gathering storm clouds and shrugs, following the shamans without resistance, a slight smile on his face.  The years of toil and shame will be washed away by the tide or he will find rest in its embrace.  Still, he is afraid of what is to come - he's been so far from the sea for so long.

The shamans pause, looking over the clouds for a moment as if reading them before one of their brows furrow before he looks back around to Shef, "She's watching. You're lucky." The vague words make some sense to Shef. She always refers to the sea, and storms of the variety with heavy rainfall is seen as her wetting the earth so she may see through the water she pours down upon the world. It's usually around this time that people act on their best and most pious behavior.

The shamans lead Shef along, heading through the dirt roads to a small beaten path- coming upon a cove of jagged rocks in a small natural harbor. Too small to act as the village docks- but perfect for rituals. The shamans wade into the water at waist deep before they look back to Shef, bringing their hands out. "Come. We will hold you under, and we will see if you last."

5

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: June 19, 2018, 04:46:56 AM »

The men, despite embarking with utmost expediency, still must chase the canoes downriver, almost out of view before wrangling them all. In gathering all of them, they slowly make their way upstream.

Inside the canoes are full of gifts. Full of furs delicacies, and crafts. Clearly this was made with good intentions. The men on the other side of the river sort of stare, and walk off.

The men in the canoes from the Haluti fork camp take notice.

Dolo peers off as he watches their canoes intercept those pushed across, securing them and beginning to ferry them back up against the stream. He nods to himself with a quiet humph and simply stares back to watch the other men retreat shortly afterwards. He keeps some men watching as he heads over down the banks somewhat, signalling the men on the canoes to land before they both look over the contents of the canoes.

Dolo's right brow rises somewhat, looking over the gifts of furs and crafts. There's a moment of consideration before he sends the men to continue taking the items down towards Hamcha.

When Dolo returns to the camp, the others seem to have laxed. One of them asks, "So... What was it?" Dolo pauses, beginning to enter his tent again as he looks over his shoulder. "Tribute." he says, before he enters and lets the flap move back into place.

Upon returning the Hamcha, the gifts are brought to the Halut-dan and the canoes are sent to some shipwrights to study them and see if they can adopt any ideas from them into their own canoes.

After crawling over a small ravine at the river's edge, they encounter a small grassy hill. By now, the sounds of the festivities is more clear. A girl, or a young woman, or a child sings solo as the drums quiet down. They crest the hill prone to get a better look, and spot a village of notable size, though none of the villagers are working—they all congregate in the middle of town. In it are people who look a lot like them, dress similarly. And their language...
Why is it so similar?

The child who was singing is amongst perhaps ten others of the same age. All heads shaven, all around a large bonfire. The village joins in chorus and sings a stanza before the next child rotates in. The children sing facing a stage made of raised earth in front of a larger cabin at the center of the village. At the front of the stage is a very well-decorated shaman. An order of perhaps 6-8 lesser shamans stand behind the elderly shaman up front. Behind them stands a mixed order of what looks like a score of older men and women in anything from marginally to significantly better garb than most of the townsfolk. Behind the children stand the rest of the village.

They continue in their stanzas and verses. The chorus following a common theme, and the children seeming to vary on subjects, though the unknown language barrier can only suggest so much.

Shau and Krin look on, lying on their bellies amidst the grasses with squints from afar. A few others are looking two, but the majority stay further down the hill as to not give themselves away. Every man and woman there looks between themselves, the same look of curiosity mixed with eerie discomfort. "It's like looking in a rippling puddle," says Krin, his voice hushed- more-so than it normally is. "They look like us, but odd and distorted."

There's a moment of silence before Shau says, "We should go back." Shau looks over to Krin, and then the others. "Let's go." he says, motioning with a flick of his wrist before they all peel off and begin to head back to the canoes to report what they've found.

Shef pauses. He had expected a larger clan than what he came back to, but hadn't realized the scope of the troubles.  "Three followed me at first."  Shef looks down at his hands, then back up, his voice cheerful but his eyes steely, "They are no threat any more."

Another slow, melancholy hum leaves the Halut-dan, hands held close together to tap the tips of his fingers across each other. There's a nod, and he looks away as he says, "Good. You did good.". There's a look back, and a sympathetic glimmer shows in his eyes- honestly one of the few positive expressions he's had since him and Shef had begun talking.

The doors to the hall open, two shamans and a warrior who stands at entrance way, waiting. "Hmh. It seems one of the Fau-dan beat me to the punch." There's a bit of distaste in his tone as he looks back to Shef, his hand rising in a presenting manner towards the shamans. "Go with them. They'll lead you to the coast. You will be given to the tide, and we'll see if she returns you to us.". As though to console him, should there be any hesitation, the Halut-dan leans in and offers quietly, "I'll be watching over you."

There's another pause and then the Halut-dan sits back in his seat, as the shamans come towards Shef to lead him along.

The warrior now moves, heading in an arc to come around. Now that he's inside- it's made obvious that he's hauling quite a lot on his back which he now begins to present to the Halut-dan, who seems humored and impressed in kind that he hasn't dropped it all.

6

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: June 17, 2018, 02:05:19 PM »

The men from the canoe row closer to the shore, docking there and exiting the boat. Once they're all out of their canoes, they push the canoes from the shore, and hope they float to the camp on the other side of the river

Dolo tilts his head as he sees the canoes dock on the other side and then push the canoes over to their side of the river. He gives a nudge of his head, and two men head out into their own canoe with some rope to intercept the canoes before they threaten to drift down river and then ferry them back to their side.

As they approach, they hear people clapping and shouting to the beat. The source of the sound must be nearby inland, as they arrive on the banks of the river where the sound is loudest. The sound of women and men alike singing in chorus sometimes accompanies the drums. It sounds like festivities.

One of the men in the party remarks, "Can you hear that? I just heard the word for 'spirits'... wait–" he pauses "and people."

Another scout in the group responds, "I hear it too..." he pauses as well, "even the phrases sound similar to that of our own tongue."

Shau's face only now begins to show some concern, the corners of his lips twisting downwards and his brows furrowing. The man ahead at the front of his canoe turns his head, having just gotten some messages down from the leader of the troop as he says, "Shau, Krin, get ready to go inland.". Krin and Shau look at each other for a second, before looking around for a moment to the other canoes. It seems the same things happening there. After a while, two men from each canoe head off and are sent inland to get a better look.

7

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: June 16, 2018, 02:12:06 PM »

They arrive at the estuary in 3 day's time, in part aided by high winds blowing southeastward on the third day. As they begin to travel up the river, they notice that it is wider than the one by which they founded Hamcha. At the very least, the deep waters of the river give them relief that the risk of bears is pretty low.

Half a day passes in travel up this river, where they hear the thumping of drums just after they turn around a bend.

The scouts continue down along, slowing their pace at the sounds of the drums as they begin to advance more slowly now. Some of the scouts quietly murmur among themselves as to whether they're hearing drums for festivities, war, or some other possible reason. One of the older scouts, Shau, isn't as shaken.

As the scouts drift further upstream, they try to spy the source of the drums from afar.

The Haluti fork river camp spots two canoes heading downstream from just upstream.

Dolo is biting down on a piece of venison in his tent when he hears a man walk in. "Uh... Dolo. There's two canoes coming down from the strangers." There's a heavy sigh that leaves his lips as he sits up and wraps up his food- setting it aside. He turns around, bumping the warrior out of the way as he wanders over to watch the canoes drifting in. As they come closer, his brows furrow and he lets out a shrill whistle and calls over a couple of men to prepare for combat- javelins and slings at the ready as they wait for them to come closer to get a better look at them.

8

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: June 14, 2018, 02:10:25 PM »

Shef expected some trouble from the clan; he remembered vaguely that there had been a woman forced to live just outside the camp for heading too far inland, but figured that given the circumstances, things might be different.  The stabs of shame he initially feels, however, are overcome by waves of joy simply at being back among his people.

Shef steps forward into the light, "I am Shef, son of Shau and Frei."  Shef, despite knowing the seriousness of the situation, is nonetheless still barely able to contain his joy, and it shows in his voice.

The Halut-dan hums quietly upon Shef's introduction, his gaze flitting away from him for a moment. "Shau and Frei..." he says once, collecting his memories before his brows rise and he repeats himself in a tone of realization, "Ah, Shau and Frei.". The Halut-dan adjusts himself somewhat in his seat, "Your father is away at the moment on a scouting expedition, but your mother will be rejoiced to hear of your return."

"However," the Halut-dan's voice rises in volume, chest rising and falling as he lets out a heavy sigh as he looks back to Shef. "As you are, I can't in good judgement simply let you roam around. You're stained. And you need to be cleaned." The Halut-dan shifts in his spot somewhat, looking Shef over. "Because of the... Events, that lead up to you heading so far inland, it's safe to say that your essence is still pure. It's simply your shell here, that is tainted. We will perform the Tiding Ritual on you again, in hopes of cleansing you."

Shef knows what this is. While he can't outright remember what it was like, since it is traditionally only done to infants, it's a ritual meant to bring one closer to the sea and strengthen the bonds between the essence of the soul and The-One-In-The-Deep.

The Halut-dan shifts in his seat, peering at Shef critically for a moment. "Now... I also need something else from you. If you have any idea of whether or not they're following you- I need you to tell me now. We've lost over half of our people getting here. And we can't afford another attack." The Halut-dan shifts forward, squinting at Shef as he asks him slowly, "Were you followed?"

9

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: June 13, 2018, 01:05:52 PM »

Shef drops to his knees in shock.  He had only had the name his parents gave him for a couple of years before he was captured, and during the many moons of his enslavement, nobody had called him by anything more than slave.

He replies, his voice filled with emotion, "Chunn!"

The men look back and forth between themselves for a moment or two, the hesitation and suspicion obvious before one steps forward and looks him over with furrowed brows. After a minute of looking Shef over, his suspicion fades and is replaced as he expresses his joy in Shef's return with a squeezing hug.

"We all thought you were gone! Praise the tide for bringing you back!"

The others in the party don't seem too convinced- one even showing a bit of disgust that one of them's even touching Shef. Regardless, they turn and help guide Shef back to the village. Though where he'd probably hope to go straight back to his family, he's instead being taken up to a crude recreation of the old longhouse of their old home.

"The Halut-dan has to be made aware of your return," Says the smug one, "You've been gone for so long, you can tell him what you saw of the inlanders and whether they're coming this way or not. He'll also decide how to cleanse you of whatever they did to you."

Shef is guided up to the entrance of the longhouse and ushered inside, door shutting behind him- resulting in the only sources of light being dim torches along the support pillars and the great central fire. On the other end of the longhouse is the Halut-dan, sitting in his throne with one leg crossed over another and beckoning him over.

"Come- tell me your name, and let me get a good look at you."

The scouts are prepared to depart with considerably more supplies.

The scouts are sent back out east to follow the path they once took, with the aim of crossing the delta into the river on the other side.

They are able to glean that the man got too close to the bear's cub. The mother was not happy to find him there, ran him down and left gashes in his calves, back, arms, and thighs. His party pulled him into a canoe before rushing him back.

The man has died of a combination of blood loss and disease.

His injuries and the cause of death is taken into consideration, and warnings on how to prevent these same things from happening are issued to the people. He is given a proper burial after his departure.

10

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: June 06, 2018, 06:25:50 PM »

The scouting party travels by canoe for 8 days along the coast and arrives at a river delta. They have enough supplies to make it 6 days over land, and can continue to eat fish from the waters, but only for so long without being malnourished and only if they can get to land safely to cook it. They also find bivalves and crabs near to the shore.

Arriving at the river delta, the less committed scouting force looks over the area and maps it out before simply turning around and beginning to head back. Upon arriving, they report on what they've found and plans to make another scouting party is begun.

The river ahead is not small by any measure.
The hunting paths are carved out successfully, however 2 men die to bear attacks and 1 is injured critically in one such attack. 1 man dies to wolf attacks, but the party he was in remarked he had been antagonizing them. Several hunters report plentiful deer and foxes. Ten fox furs are gifted specifically to the Halut-dan.

The territories are marked in due time. The shamans warn the men of the camp they must not cross into the swamp at the fork.

Full respects are given to the men that died, with a bit of added assistance given to the injured man to try and keep him alive in hopes of figuring out some details about the attack afterwards.

The Halut-dan accepts the gifts, as stoic as ever, and has some worked into his garbs as linings to show his status while the others are kept for decorative purposes around his home.

The forward camp adheres to the warning, though the shamans are able to catch the curious glances of some of the younger fighters.

11

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: June 05, 2018, 10:44:45 PM »

The Khan gets the message, and retreats back to the village

Dolo peers at them as the Khan and his men ride off. His shoulders slump as he turns back and returns to the camp, looking to the others. "Red basket. Now." One of the men nod, running into a tent and grabbing a basket painted red which they toss into the river- letting it drift down to alert the other camps, who pass on their own warnings.

Five men from the middle camp climb into a canoe as they get the alert, heading up the river to joint the furthest camp's defense, bringing with them a collection of javelins, slings, and sling ammo along with their regular arms.

When the new reaches Hamcha, alerts are raised and some defenses are planned and prepared. Trenches, some moats to create chokepoints for entering and leaving the village, and some semi-permanent basic palisade walls.

The Haluti camps along the river are completed.

Following the full completion of the camps, hunters and gatherers begin to frequent the sections of the river between the camps- with hunters more frequently visiting to carve out some basic hunting paths into the wilds, and gatherers beginning to start cutting down trees to ferry back to the village, as well as gathering other resources.

The Halut-dan sends out small teams of shamans to begin painting Haluti emblems into landmarks along the rivers, as a way of beginning to try and claim that part of the river.

12

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: June 03, 2018, 02:11:18 PM »

"HELLO!", the Khan shouts in his hulking voice, testing the language barrier between them. The mounted warriors beside him look on at the camp, hands on the reigns of their mounts.

Dolo tilts his head to the side, staring quizzically at the Khan from afar. After the awkward silence, it becomes obvious that there is indeed a language barrier. Though it also seems to extend to body language as well. Dolo peers at the men handling the reigns of their mounts- the furrowing of his brow a result of trying to make out exactly what the animal is.

Dolo looks back to the Khan properly now, squinting. He raises his right hand and gestures, and a man from the camp grabs a rawhide bag full of javelins and tosses it to Dolo- who catches it in his arms and then slings it over his shoulder, drawing one out and pointing off back in the direction the Khan and his group came. The gesture is obvious- he's telling them to go back.

One of them men watch Dolo, before looking to the man behind him. "Should he be doing that?" The other looks at Dolo and then back before shrugging. "I.. Don't know?"

Shef eats what leaves he can find and looks for a comfortable spot to rest; the energy of the day's excitement is starting to war off, leaving him well able to rest.  He regrets not stealing firemaking tools from his former master's house, but there had been no time to lose.  In a few minutes, fire or no fire, he dozes off.

Shef's waken up by the light growling of his stomach, as he fades back into the waking world the sound of the tide coming in and then easing back out as the sun rising up in the sky. It's morning now, and he seems to be all in one piece. There's a bit of soreness, having slept where he did, but it's better than waking up back there.

13

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: June 02, 2018, 12:39:50 PM »

The scouts move from the forest as they are spotted, retreating back to the village to alert the Khan. The Khan in response mounts his horse and grabs a few warriors in the village to move to the swamp's bank. Once he arrives, he waves over to the men across the river, no weapons in his hand.

It seems that four tents have been erected in the time the scouts had returned to their village and with men working on some waist high 'fortifications' made from large branches, rocks and mud keeping it all together. One of his men spot the Khan and his men arriving at the swamps banks. The signal that alerts the camp is a shrill whistle, the echo of which is audible to the men at the fork in the river.

Dolo exits one of these tents, pushing aside some furs that make up the cover for the entrance as he peers across at the foreign men. His brows furrow and he claps his hands three times- with three of the smaller men moving to the fortifications, hauling small baskets of oblong shaped rocks and with plant-fiber slings in hands. Dolo steps forward, the other men leaving their tents or stopping whatever it was they were doing at that moment to watch as Dolo approaches the riverbank.

His brow rises as he sees the wave from the Khan. He looks back at his men for a moment or two before he returns the gesture with a slow panning from his palm in the air from one side to the next. The exaggerated movement gets some looks from his men, but they eventually just shrug at one another and go back to watching anxiously.

Shef dimly recalls being warned of the strength of these beasts and gives them as wide a berth as he can as he continues his trek along the coast.  Soon he is tired, despite his impressive strength, as it has been long since he ate or rested, and so, once out of earshot of the walruses, squats down in a shady place and tries to listen for water over the dull roar of the ocean and spy edible plants in the vegetation.  His knowledge of what plants are edible is limited, but he can still remember some of what his parents taught him on the subject long ago.

While moving along, Shef avoids attracting the ire of the herd, though he does seem to have caught the attention of a baby Walrus- who watches and seems is about to follow him along before realizing how far its strayed from its herd and heading back in a hurry.

The edge of the sun barely hangs overs in the sky, darkness creeping in to take the light's place. The sounds of the waves coming in and out with the tide is therapeutic- a sound so nostalgic, it's rather euphoric. It also helps remind him of the times he's had with his family and friends, and puts in the thought of the time's he may have missed out on with them- having been stuck inland for so long.

The growling of his stomach is what helps steer him away from such thoughts, however. The memories are admittedly a bit hazy, it's been more than a while since he learned about that and for him, it was never something that he really needed to know. Until now, of course. From what his mind can rack over, he manages to find a collection of taller grasses that stand where the edge. It's not the grass that's important, but rather the verdant green collection of leaves surrounding their base that he recognizes as edible. He's able to grab around a dozen of these leaves- they're medium sized, and leave a bit to be desired. Otherwise, from a look around there isn't all that much that has survived the harsh winter that the land shortly came out of that's edible and able to be found before the moon hangs high in the sky.

While better than nothing, Shef does have the option of braving the night to continue searching around for something more to eat. But choosing to eat the leaves he's got is there, though it may end up with a fairly hungry morning coming up.

14

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: May 31, 2018, 06:08:04 PM »

Shef enters into Haluti lands, noting with immense joy the symbol of his tribe burned into his mind from before his capture so many moons ago.  He knows he may be unwelcome after being so far from the blessed sea for so long, sobering his usually sunny disposition significantly.  Not seeing or hearing anyone, he continues forward and finds the remnants of a camp, but runs past it to a beach.  For the first time in years Shef is at the sea, and he spends minutes playing in it like an oversized child before returning to the abandoned scraps of a Haluti camp and sees clearly that it has been a long time since any Haluti were there - the stones of a fire pit are only slightly darkened after months of weathering, and the footpaths are already encroached upon by vegetation.

Shef moves along the coast in hopes of reuniting with his long lost kinsmen.

From the time it has been since the camp had any sort of life around it, Shef still manages to see the signs of the destruction that the settlers there went through. The shards of shattered pots, the dark burnt remnants of lashings, and half of a bedroll that's all but nearly submerged in light foliage and earth.

Within the first few hours and no sign of people, Shef realizes that his journey will definitely be a while. Had he a canoe, there'd be little issue- but as it stands he'll have to make due with his own two legs. As he follows the coastline, the familiar smell of the salt water pleasant to his nose after so long, it becomes noticeable that small islands are beginning to crop up in increasing quantity in the distance.

As the sun is an hour shy of beginning to set, and large jagged rocks jut out from the water, he notices an oncoming block in his path along the coast in the form of a herd of Walruses. Basking in what little sunlight is left, the sunbathing creatures are heard before they're seen, with the adolescents playing or challenging each other and the older ones taking the time to relax.

They have yet to notice Shef, and he's able to recall some knowledge of the creatures- enough to know that it may be within his interests to avoid getting too close, lest he be seen as a threat.

15

Forum Games / Re: Land of Despots

« on: May 30, 2018, 04:21:15 PM »

Dolo, the leader of the advance team, squints out at the group from the edge of the camp they're setting up. The others are looking too, but he was adamant that they set up the camp first before anything. Dolo stares over towards the swamp, staring at the men before watching them begin to move back and out of sight before he turns back over to his men. "Keep provisions out of sight. Send down the signal to the other team that they know we're here."

Some of the men get to work while two others take a basket painted yellow and toss it into the river, letting the current take it downstream for the other guard post to spot and pass it further down. "Why are they--" begins to ask one before another shushes him, "They're strange men, that's why. Now help me put up the tent."

Watching his men do this for a moment, Dolo turns his head back as he stares back at the others, brows furrowed. Two tents are set up, and some others are taking the time to dig out some holes in the ground to fit in some thick, straight branches as posts. The beginning of making some defenses, it seems.

Another man walks up, two bundles of javelins under each arm, with one bundle being handed over to Dolo before he asks, "Should we say something to them?" Dolo shakes his head. "We're not supposed to. Either they come to us and talk, or they come to us and fight. We don't go to them." he says, as they begin their watch.