City of IF

[SerriaFox]

Hon Tanoc walked away from the camp in the predawn light. Though young, only 17 years old, he had earned the Hon title to his name over a year ago. His brown hair was swept back into a loosely tied pony tail, his skin tanned from many hours in the sun, his brown eyes and middling height, of 5‘8“, was in combination, the picture of a Shauk Lal hunter. He maneuvered gracefully with a quick and powerful gait, as native animal would over familiar ground. Made up of parched shrubs, patchy short grasses and small mesquite trees, it was a harsh landscape. His leather clothing offered all the protection he needed from the harsh environment. He quickly crested a slight rise, a short distance away from the camp and was surprised to see a small herd of three deer at reasonable distant away.

Studying the land before him, he noticed a small dry wash that started a little below him and was becoming a small ravine as it pass below and to the right of the deer. He silently walked down the wash, hidden from the deer’s’ view.

With care he slowly lifted his head above the slight ravine in which he was in. Before him was the three desert deer, unfortunately they were not quite in spear range. Although there were a few scrub brushes between him and the herd, the sparse vegetation was hardly adequate cover. The wind was in his face, although he knew it to be good hunting technique, thinking about the unceasing, unnatural wind was not a calming thought for his hunt.

Slowly he crept forward to the first shrub, but his mind was no longer on the hunt. The wind, or Melteme, as the shamans had named it. According to them it had started blowing nearly two years ago. He himself had felt it as early as a year and half ago. By now, almost everyone in the tribe agreed there was something unnatural in the wind.

As he slowly made his way to the next shrub he noticed the closest deer, a mature doe was no longer eating, but rather watching the land around her with weary suspicion. As Tanoc froze, he mentally chided himself for thinking about the Melteme, while hunting. His spear was ready, but the range was still long. He knew he could make the kill at this distance, but he also knew the odds were not good. He held himself still, feeling the anxiety building within him. Tanoc felt his muscles tensing in anticipation of the throw. Holding himself still, he waited in vain for the Doe to relax, so he could move yet closer.

Then as if a sixth sense connected the hunter to the prey they both moved, a flick of her ear and then she began to sprint off, taking her two herd mates with her. His throw was true but she was no longer there.

He cursed himself for thinking of the accursed wind instead of the hunt. His hunting fortunes spoiled he headed for camp, no longer in the mood to hunt.

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Shortly after Hon Tanoc returned to camp he saw Hon Ralul, returning to camp with a large buck. A few years older than Tanoc, Hon Ralul always seemed to be a cut above the rest, his tightly braided hair, tunic of the finest leather, and his majestic 6’ stature, he was the epitome of perfection all young hunters and warriors of the clan drew their emulation from.

“How was your hunt? Tanoc” Ralul asked, his tone and form similar to that used to address children of the tribe.

“The Melteme distracted me, causing me to fail in my hunt.” Tanoc replied, after his unsuccessful hunt, he could not challenge the successful hunter’s passing insult.

“The wind!” Ralul cursed, “Why is everyone discussing the wind lately, it not like it‘s more dangerous today than it ever was.” To Tanoc’s knowledge, Ralul was the only person in the tribe who seemed to be unaware of the wind. Realizing that, Tonac feared for the older Hon.

Then Hon Ralul left and he went to Mur Nanox’s tent, Tanoc was sure he would offer the old man the finest cut of the buck. Mur Nanox was the father of the fairest maiden of the camp, Novula. Although Mur Nanox could no longer hunt his wisdom was valued by the tribe, and it was customarily to offer him a prime cut of all kills, however giving the finest cut would be understood to be a courting of his daughter. A courting Tanoc had hoped to perform.

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Tanoc spent the late morning and early after working hides form a previous hunt. His prized leather working obsidian knife was haphazardly set to one side of his work area with his other leather working tools, as he reached out to grasp a more delicate knife for working the leather into a fine suede.

He thought to himself, if he had a soft enough hide he could trade it to one of the expecting families in the tribe. Maybe for something to woo Novula with…He never knew what to expect from expecting families.

The low rumble of the watch horn was heard through out the camp, Hon Tanoc instinctive reach for his spear. A second blast of the horn, this one more complex, told him one rider approach the camp.




Ok DP Time: How would the tribe greet a lone stranger?



I would like Ifcans to play the role of tribes people create a member of the tribe and debate the action in that character: These are secondary characters to the story and will help me a lot.

Naming conventions used in story:
Hon - Hunter
Muro - Honored Women
Mur - Elder
Conventions not used in story but might be (or might be changed, if some comes up with a better title for say their character)
Cif - Skinner
Yast - Leather Worker
Brind - Weaver
Thronn - Shaman
Wyr - Spear Maker


Thanks shy_blues_eyes for posting on the original vane
Creating a Character I need the following:

Name:
Dialog:
Ultimate decision of character to stay on their home range or go special shelter far away as I am really thinking about breaking the tribe up:

I hoping to work your comments into the Story

[shy_blu_eyes]

Name: Wyr Fynn

Description: A girl about Hon Tanoc's age, Fynn is the most skilled spearmaker in the village despite her youth. Fynn is outspoken and frequently chafes against tribal traditions, especially the prohibition against women becoming hunters or warriors.

Dialog: "The Elders say that we should seek shelter, and to this I agree, but like the Mesquite this land is our home. This is where our roots are set. To abandon our lands is to die. Many of you will go, blown away by the wind like so many dead leaves, but for my part, I will stay. This is our land. Here is our shelter."

Decision: Wyr Fynn will stay, although at least some tribe members might believe that she is doing so just to spite the Shaman and Tribal leaders.

[SerriaFox]

Name: Thronn Quzac

Description: Eldest shaman, male, thinning white hair, about 60, but in excellent health

"For too long we the most western tribe have held ourselves us apart. The magic of sanctuary is our best hope to resist this infernal wind. Our home is not here or there, it is the desert, the vast desert that is our home."


*thanks shy_blu_eyes it is easier to say something against a counter point

[SerriaFox]

bumping cause of major edit

[DeadManWalking]

I think that they would be cautious, but curious as to why the stranger came.

Any other reactions would come directly from how that lone stranger responded.

[shy_blu_eyes]

I agree with DMW, maybe even more cautios than normal because everyone is so tense and skittish about the wind.

[NeverNeverGirl]

They send someone out to meet the rider to discover his intent....


Character: Brind Mavee

Description: Mavee is a gentle young woman of about 17 summers, she has
long dark hair which she weaves through with some of the materials she uses for weaving, and dark eyes. She is soft spoken and lives with her ancient grandmother Muro Vanni - caring for the old woman's needs.

Dialog: "Muro Vanni has told me tales from her mother about the sacred lands, it is here that i believe that we should go - return to the bosom from whence we came... it is time to go home my friends."

Decision: Brind Mavee will travel to the sacred lands, she feels that the ill wind bodes their tribe no good.

[SerriaFox]

polls up

[SerriaFox]

sorry for the long delay, but here is chapter 2
And I know some of the names are cheesy, I'll edit if I like a suggestion.

Chapter 2:

It had been a long journey, he thought to himself. At least this would be the last on his long list of tribes, he had been ordered to contact and warn that the elemental storm would strike soon.

When he had started upon this foolish journey, he thought that he would have already returned to Bhithaltin by now, his purse filled with the wizard counsel’s gold coins. But he was still a months hard travel, probably two, from the safety of the city. Unfortunately, the soothsayers’ weren’t too specific about when the storm would become strong enough to power the elemental engine powering the shield and cutting the city off from the outside world. They were confident it would occur after White Moon Holiday, just a month away, and before The Great Feast in three months time. At this distance, that ambiguity was quite distasteful.

His wizards’ sense of magic was never as strong as others of his bloodline. He would never be a wizard. But it was strong enough, to let him feel the elements in the coming storm, and judge their strength. He remembered his father’s words before he struck off into this perilous journey.

“My son the wizard’s blood has run strong in our families veins for over 10 generations. Though you might never be a full wizard I know you have been taught to judge the storm, trust your instincts”

Well my instincts tell me it at about a force three right now. He thought to himself. It would take a force of two to start the elemental engine now at the heart of the wizards city, and a three to power the great shield, and a four to close the portals through the shield.

Just another indication his time was running out.

At least his steed was top quality, for it was a Highlien, specially bred by the wizards council. Each generation of Highliens were endued with magic, from birth to maturity, for heartiness and speed the most sought after traits for a long quest like his. And she is mine, he thought with pride, a gift for doing this mission.

He was surprised to hear a low rumble of a horn ahead. He said reaching down to pat his steed;

“They are alert to have spotted us so soon, old friend, I hope they do not delay us to long.”

As he approached the camp he thought to himself, looks just like all the other tribes around here. The large conical tents were arranged in a large circle, the spaces between each families tent was minimal. A make shift fence made of chicken crated houses, a few boxes, a few over turned wagons, stone, and wood made the whole camp an enclosed horse shoe. There were numerous wild chickens running freely about. He spotted a small herd of sun striders, a raptor like animal used by the tribes as beast of burden, a slight distances away.

A fairly wealthy tribe for these parts, he thought.

Between him and the camp was a line of twenty hunters. And a few more I don’t see, he thought to himself as he used his peripheral vision to carefully surveyed the landscape around him, at least their spears are not pointed directly at me. Although some were fairly close to it.

An elder hunter stepped forward and asked forcibly,

“I am Hon Patel, what business do you have being on lands of the Shauk Lal?”

The messenger pointed to himself as he sat warily upon his faithful steed and said, “I am Calhan Johnson, hailing from The Great Wizard’s City of Bhithaltin and a messenger of the Wizards council. I come bearing the most urgent of news for your village. May I please speak with the village elders…as soon as possible?”

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Hon Tanoc fell in behind the messenger as the hunters formed a semi tight circle around him and lead him to the leaders tent, there Hon Patel signal the closest four, including Tanoc to stay with the messenger and for the rest to wait as they went inside, to the already assembled elders.

Johnson looked at the assembled elders and respected members of the tribe in the large tent to judge on how well received his message would be, because his life just might depend on his choice of words.

Besides a little flattery never hurt..

“Honored elders, I present to you this message on behalf of the honored Wizards Council of Bhithaltin.” With a flourish he produced a tightly bound small leather satchel that held the most urgent of news inside its bound cover. He presented the case with a bow and had it immediately removed from his person by a nearby Hon of the tribe for inspection. Inside was a single parchment bound by a silken ribbon. The Hon passed the parchment to Thronn Quzac, the tribes senior shaman.

Once the Thronn Quzac was seated upon his leopard skinned rug he undid the bindings and unfurled the parchment, he slowly began to read to the assembled elders:

Let it be know to all the peoples of the world that on, Date 1 year 1250, that the Wizards of Bhithaltin did meet the forces of Evil Wizard. When the Defeat of the Evil Wizard was a foregone conclusion, he did release the Scepter of Death upon the Battlefield, in fact upon the World. Being Armed with the fore knowledge of his possession of the Scepter, We the Wizards Council of Bhithaltin, seeing no alternative authorized the use of the Scepter of Life should, and indeed, it did, become necessary. Thus the World is doomed to suffer an Elemental Storm as the two force attempt to overcome each other.

The City of Bhithaltin, Shall offer protection to all who can reach its fair walls by White Moon Holiday Year 1252, After that an Elemental shield, powered by the storms itself shall cut the city off from the world, for the duration of the storm.

To all who cannot make it, May you see the sun rise again,

Sincerely Arch Wizard So-and-So

“White moon Holiday, Isn’t that mere weeks away?” Thronn Quzac asked the messenger, not quite certain of the Bhithaltin holidays.

“Indeed it is, I was suppose to be here three months ago, but I was delayed.” he said sheepishly.

“What is the purpose of coming here to offer us protection, when it would be impossible for the tribe to reach the city in such a short time, to soothe a guilty conscience?” Thronn Second accused.

The looks at Calhan Johnson were definitely turning hostile as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. And more than one spear turn ever so slightly in his general direction.

This is not a good sign he thought to himself.

“We did not release the Scepter of Death! And though the Elemental storm will be frightful, it is better than Death!”

“But why did this council of yours pursue this Wizard knowing he was in possession of such an item?” Thronn Second continued with a glare.

“Enough,” Quzac interrupted. “It is not for us to debate with a messenger about what is! At least now we know the true nature of the Melteme. We must decide are course of action.”

“It is the city’s fault we should let them provide protection for us.” someone in the crowd grumbled loud enough for it to be heard throughout the small assembly.

Another elder, Muro Vanni in the tent spoke up from the edge of the crowd,

“The only way we could reach this city would be to drop everything and run, and run for a month or more. Even then many would be left behind. We can not just drop our old and young and run, arriving as paupers in a stinking wizard’s city. That is blasphemy and cowardice, our forefathers would never forgive us if we were to do that.” The elder woman spoke with a passion in her aged caramel colored eyes.

“Muro Vanni is right,“ Thronn Second responded. “Though we would be wise to seek shelter. May I suggest Sanctuary, a place …” He paused with a warily look at the messenger.

It was not the first time the messenger wonder what was sanctuary. But all the tribe to this point had be very circumspect in discussing it while he was around.

Hon Patel cautiously broke the short silence, “Perhaps we should go outside and discuss them with the whole tribe?”

A round of assents, and Thronn Quzac, began to lead the elders out of the leaders tent.

Hon Patel politely intercepted the messenger and said with a pointed look,

“You have a long way to go. You would probably like to get going, right?”

Knowing that he was being dismissed, Calhan Johnson agree and was riding out of the camp as he heard Thronn Quzac begin to read his message to the tribe.

Before the tribe could get to nervous about pronouncement Mur Leader spoke up.

“It is important that we protect the tribe in the trying time to come. The place that has protected the Shauk, tribes since the beginning of time is Sanctuary. The vast and magical cave will offer our tribe the strongest of protections. It has been a long time since the Lals visited, and only a handful of us has made a pilgrimage to the beautiful place.”

“You say Sanctuary is a beautiful place, and I don’t doubt you.” Hon Ralul begun, “But Sanctuary is not our home. There are cave in the hills to the south. Caves that we know, cave we have explored, Why not stay on our lands.”

Thronn Quzac to up the argument, "For too long we the most western Shauk tribe has held ourselves us apart. The magic of sanctuary is our best hope to resist the Melteme. Our home is not here or there, it is the desert, the entire desert that is our home."

Wyr Fynn, never contend to listen to the old Thronn began,

"The Elders say that we should seek shelter, and to this I agree, but like the Mesquite this land is our home. This is where our roots are set. To abandon our lands is to die. Many of you will go, blown away by the wind like so many dead leaves, but for my part, I will stay. This is our land. Here is our shelter."

"Muro Vanni has told me tales from her mother about the sacred lands, it is here that I believe that we should go - return to the bosom from whence we came... it is time to go home my friends." Brind Mavee pleaded.

Mur Nanox slowly rose from the stool he had been provided, with effort and obvious pain he limped into the middle of the clearing used for the large meeting.

“The years before, have been good, we the Shauk Lals have grown in number. But the ill wind now blows,” he said with a pointed look at Ralul, who hardly effected to notice. “Game is starting to grow scarce and will grow scarcer. The shaman advises us to seek Sanctuary, a holy and special place far from here. Their advise is good, I was lucky to visit the place many years ago, and the magic of the place will be a powerful aid against this storm. The talk of staying on our land is folly, but it is the folly of the old,” Mur Nanox added with a glance to his niece Fynn. “I, myself do not look forward to such a hard travel.”

After a short pause, and a look at Mur Leader he continued, “The Tribal master has made his decision, and will leave day after tomorrow. Our South East travel will serve either decision. With that he effectively dismissed the tribe to go their own way, and make up their own mind.


Ok, DP time:

I was originally thing of breaking the tribe up but now I not sure.

Do we, or would the elders allow a formal slipt of the tribe. The member staying would have a better claim to the land when if the others come back.

Do some tribes slip away in the night, no formal slipt which might lead to reconciliation some point in the distance future.

Keep the tribe together

Or do some thing else?

[shy_blu_eyes]

I think after a night of private deliberations the tribe will split up, some staying while others attempt to reach the wizard's city or sanctuary. The two groups that leave will travel together as far as possible, which will give some members the chance to change their minds about their desitination at the last minute. In most cases, families will stay together. In others, individuals who are "of age" may choose seperate paths.

This could lead to all sorts of interesting and unforseen social problems.

[Crunchyfrog]

I'd like to see a real argument break out among the tribe, causing them to split up - one half of them seeking out this mythical Sanctuary, and the other half going to the City.

I think Ralul will be the only person who would elect to stay, since he's the only one who seems to be unaffected by the wind.

Serria, I think this story has potential. I've posted an extensive crit in Crit Corner Here on both your chapters.

Hope it helps!
:)

[SerriaFox]

I think a real argument would definitely add something, any more comments before I make the poll? Not much to make a poll on so far.

[SerriaFox]

Poll's up