The People

The People have lived in the forest since time immemorial. When rivers were first poured onto the world from the mountain, the People were here. When the great fires raged in the fury of the spirits, the People were here. The oldest of the people, the wisest elders, couldn't remember a time before. Not just not remember, no one they knew of in their long-ago childhoods could remember before.

Miri thought as she trudged through the dark woods. Sunset brought looming shadows spilling onto the ground. Her tough, calloused feet nimbly dodged roots and rocks alike. A very faint shrill of bird call could be heard from the canopy, barely reaching her ears. Miri's pack gently pushed against her hip with every step. In the distance, her dark, straining eyes picked out a figure amidst the thick underbrush.

Instantly, Miri's hands drew her long bow from her back, a wicked thing of sturdy oak passed down from her father and his mother before him. The arrow was tipped with sharp flint, ready to rip it's way through flesh.

"Show yourself!" Miri yelled. She never stopped moving, to stop was to risk death. With a rustle, The figure burst its way brush, yelping like a child...probably because it was a child.

"Sister, stop! It's me," Sakin called out. Just ten winters and he was already getting into trouble. Miri sighed and put her bow back.

Cocking her hip and raising an eyebrow, "I can see that, little brother," she said with an unspoken question. For a moment, she just continued looking at him, not moving an inch. Sakin fidgeted with his skirt of leaves until he finally said it.

"Fine, fine! I know I'm not supposed to be out this far!" he yelled, still with defiance, crossing his arms.

Miri rolled her eyes, turning her head reflexively to scan her surroundings before speaking again, "Yet, I haven't noticed a reason for your rule breaking, Sak." She had started tapping her fingers against the dappled green and black of her leather forearm guards.

Sakin looked around nervously before finally spilling, "I just wanted to provide!" he yelled with frustration, his eyes appeared misty. The woods fell silent. Miri softened instantly, her arms wrapped around Sakin in just moments.

They stayed like that for a while before Miri broke the silence with a whisper.

"You know that it's not your job yet, right? Don't worry," she said with a tremor in her voice. She had meant to be reassuring but…Sakin pushed her away suddenly, pointing a finger at her.

"Even when you tell me that, you doubt. I saw your pack, it's empty," he said on the edge of crying, his tone wavering.

Miri could not find the words to say that, the river of her thoughts just dried up. Much like their actual river come to think of it.

"Whatever," he spat out, "let's just go back to camp," turning his back and marching away with angry stomps.

Miri just plodded along in silence.

The People have lived here for eons. Maybe no more, one way or another.

_____________

Later that night, Miri sat around the large bonfire with much of the tribe. Their empty eyes stared into the fire, mesmerized as all People are by the spirit. dancing in red and yellow cheerfully. She watched its black breath curl its way up the sky above, barely visible through the immense trees.

Miris feels the urge to hiss as a familiar dull pain radiates from her stomach, empty and starving. A decade past, before her father's death, when the woods were plentiful with game and life was bright; she had played Hunter and Deer around this exact spot with her friends.

Now, they were fewer and there were certainly no happy smiles or raucous conversation. Only pangs of pain from their stomachs and abortive, awkward attempts at jokes to break the quiet. All of which were met with exhausted walls of silence from sullen faces with hollow cheeks. There was no need to pretend in this sacred space with old games and acts for the children. It was so much worse than they showed to them.

"What are we doing here?" Kosu drawled out, listlessly. His once stocky muscular frame now long decrepit by hunger compared to back then like the rest of them. When no response was heard except a few heads slowly turning, his brow furrowed, his teeth grit, and he exploded.

"I said, what are we doing here!?" he screamed out, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Everyone looked at him, a few worked their mouths trying to answer but Miri beat them to it.

"Dying," she said tonelessly before her voice started wavering as she spoke, "We shou-we should move."

That immediately brought uproar as people started yelling and getting up before Kosu silenced them with a stomp. He looked at her as if he had received a revelation.

"She's right," Kosu said, looking around at each and every person. "She's completely right."

Yuto spoke up with anger, "And go where? We've lived here since forever, this is our home. The foolishness of youth," she spat. A wiry old woman, her hair long since white and half her teeth falling out. The rest started nodding at her, Elders have wisdom after all.

"They might have a point, Yuto," Gahi rasped. He was even older than Yuto, perhaps the oldest in the tribe. His clothing had the bones of many a beast from a long, long life of hunting.

Yuto's eyes turned to him sharply, "You're really agreeing with thi-this foolery, Gahi?"

Gahi shrugged, the small motion seeming to tire him, "I don't know but what I do know is that we stay here and die or we move."

Kosu chimed back in, "I've heard Black Teeth and White Eyes hunt upstream. They say that it's lush and full of game."

Yuto didn't take kindly to the idea, "Upstream is also full of tribes for that exact reason, boy. What's the point of having game to hunt if we have to fight every day just for a spot to camp," she pointed out.

"Isn't it then better to just take a chance?" Miri asked. "I don't know how much longer we can keep going like this. Perhaps the plains of the west will be better. I've heard they have huge herds of deer."

The tribe was getting around to the idea of moving and were proposing different ideas. A matronly woman was for the plains, under the open sky with endless deer sounded perfect. A young man for down the river, where it flows into the lake with poison water bitter as rock but teeming with fish.

Yuto looked around, incensed, "We'll make it through, the spirits are just testing us, you'll see!" she shouted.

In response, Kosu stood up as well.

"Cease!" Gahi yelled, grabbing his cane from beside him, it was carved out of Tusker ivory and painted with red and thumping the ground. He raised his left hand. A signal.

"I call a vote!"

[] Upstream to the lush forest?

--Temperate Forest. Lotta tribes here to fight. Fighting everywhere. Lotta game to hunt as well. Maybe agriculture.

[] Downstream to the poison lake of fish?

--The Ocean. Trade, boats, storms, boats, fish, and boats. Not much agriculture, very fishy.

[] Endless Plains with herds of deer?

--Prarie. Le Horse Nomad. Them deer ain't no deer. Also agriculture, big-boy agriculture china style...if you can defend against very scary horse nomads.

[]Stay and perseve

First, Higher rolls are always better for the thing that it's being rolled for.

Second, be aware that you're essentially seeing things from the ruling classes' perspective (when a ruling class does emerge.) Take all these stats with a grain of salt. If your civ is being currently invaded and your Spirituality says Happy, your rulers might be in a state of copium/delusion.

Food Security: One of the most important stats in the entire quest. This shows how much food your civilization has. Generally, the higher this stat is, the better off you are. This goes from -1 to a changeable cap. -1 means complete starvation, civilizational collapse imminent. When you get above said cap, the surplus contributes to Wealth. This is your foundational stat, everything comes from this. Low FS means low Spirituality, no wealth and no martial.

Wealth: This stat is tied to FS, Wealth is your semi-disposable resources. Tools, surplus grain (that can't be stored), unique resources (dyes, metals, obsidian, furs), etc. Generally, you want to build a small bank of this just in case but otherwise, you spend this stat on diplomacy, war/raids, construction, etc.

Spirituality: This represents the mood of your people and partially, the civil stability of your civilization A.K.A how close everyone is to stabbing each other. How happy they are, how sad they are. I don't use numbers here. You'll get a detailed description. Just be aware of what I said at the start.

Martial: Essentially your military. It can take many forms and the exact mechanics will differ with whatever form you choose to take. Until chargen finishes, there isn't much more that's useful to say at this moment.

Beliefs: They basically explain your cultural pillars. These have massive narrative effects and some mechanical effects as well. Just depends on what Belief it is. Beliefs are not all equal, new ones can fade if you don't act in favor of the belief but if you've had one for a long time, they are practically impossible to shake off.

That's it (for now). Everything else is narrative or background stuff like roll tables.

AN: Mostly preliminary in chargen because you don't have stats right now. This will have a lot more once the quest starts proper.

The People
-Known as the People of the Rocky Waters by the Clans of the Forest. (Double meaning, Rocky for the coast and rocking waves for the tides.)

Food Security: 5/5 (Drain = 1 a turn, +4 a turn currently. 1 goes to FS, 3 go to Wealth)

Wealth: 5, +3 Per Turn

Spirituality: Ongoing tensions between woodsmen, crafters and the Clans of the White River. Nobody has died, yet.

Martial: Chief's Men (Small group of unprofessional fighters offensively) (Defensively, Everyone, civilians)

Description: A thriving hunter gatherer tribe who has settled on a rocky coastline next to the White river, a branch of the large Pink river. Boats and canoes abound. The People elect a Chief everytime a Chief dies, Chiefs generally come to power by being skilled and more importantly, being charming. Homes are mainly made of stone from the shore, wood is somewhat uncommon currently, much of the good wood is in the Forest, where it is held by the Clans.

---

Beliefs

Me and Mine

The People believe in ownership, personal/private property. You have to protect what is yours and yours. Let no one steal from you. Take care of what is yours, who is yours.

Benefits: The People gain a bonus to defending and taking care of their sea/land/possessions/people.

Downsides: The People can be very fractious and divisive. Only caring about your family/clan and not the larger tribe is applauded in domestic matters altthough looked down upon in dealings with foreigners. Beyond that, they are prone to being insular and disapproving of outsiders as well.

(When the People are dealing with other clans in the People, they are the outsiders. When the People deal with other tribes, others clans are part of the inside, foreigners outside.)

---

Sickness and this quest (Boat memes go brrr) inspired this drawing.

Say hi to Flort

The tribe had packed up in the early hours of the morning. Tents were disassembled quickly, twine ropes untied, sticks bundled up and hide folded. The fires were beaten out if they were still burning. Children gathered from the surroundings. All of the hunters had been counted to make sure that no one was accidentally. The People were used to moving.

Never permanently though.

Of course, some, like Yuto, had chosen to stay. Mostly Elders who could never let go of the forest after dozens of winters. Others couldn't make the journey, too frail in their age to do so such as Gahi. They would be well cared for by the few families still left.

Miri looked around, taking in deep breaths as if to permanently etch that woody scent into her lungs. The dark shadows and dense green canopy had been where she had grown up her whole life. She had known no other companion as constant as these trees.

Her heart was heavy and doubt warred with survival in her mind. The pangs in her stomach reminded why she was moving but the lump in her heart couldn't help but feel she was abandoning her home. Over by that bubbling brook, her father had first taught her to fish with a spear. Tiny little minnows, she had been so happy when she finally caught one after weeks of trying. Her father had ruffled her dark brown hair and smiled proudly. Miri's mother, wiry and nimble, had taught her how to mend one's leathers. The delicate art of sewing with a little bone needle. A needle she still kept in a bag on her waist just in case.

They had died young, leaving Miri and a very young Sakin all alone in the world. The tribe pulled through for them of course even though her parents were outsiders. Miri knew once she left, her memory of them would start going. To say nothing of Sakin, he already was forgetting, how much worse would it become once the physical reminders were no longer there? The Elders say that a man dies twice, once in the body and once when his memory is no longer held by those close to him.

It was clear that Miri wasn't the only one having this crisis. She could see Kosu, such a proponent of moving, quiet and contemplative. None of them truly wanted to leave, even the man who had first proposed the lake wasn't truly happy. The People grieved.

For their home, for their buried loved ones they would have to leave, for the sheer loss of it all.

Miri forcibly turned her head away from the now-abandoned camp. The decision was made by vote at the Bonfire. They were leaving, so said the Tribe.

"Sakin!" she called out as she noticed him looking over the camp. Miri jerked her head to the main group. He ran over, packs heavy on his pack to join his friends.

Miri sighed, the children were much more on board with the whole plan than most. She still didn't know if that was good or bad.

Nothing for it. She had to go. Taking one last look around the old campsite, taking in the memories before resolutely turning and marching away. Never to return.

_______

Moons later, Miri took a deep breath in as she gazed upon the endless rippling blue waters. Waves crashed onto the rocky beach sending great white plumes of foam into the air. Salt was on the breeze, well, they had found out why the poison water was poison. It was salt, so much salt. The water tasted of it, it was so constant that she found herself having to focus to even detect it anymore.

She wrapped her furs tighter around her, it was cold too. The sea breeze had no mercy, it chilled Mira's bones, the cold seeping its thin fingers in to hook her flesh. Winter was fast approaching, she had no idea how bad it would get but she was definitely not looking forward to it.

She heard footsteps behind, the rattling of bones and the panting of someone very tired.

"Miri?" Kosu called out, hands on his knees. "What are you doing so high up?" raising his head up to look at her. Cheeks flushed with blood from exertion.

Miri pivoted to face him on her foot, "Enjoying the sights, it's beautiful, is it not?"

He shrugged as he stood up straight up again, stretching a little, "I wouldn't say it's worth the climb."

Miri laughed, clear and bright, "You're just lazy, Kosu." He smiled in response.

For a moment, they just stood there watching the scenery around them. It was truly mesmerizing like nothing else. The sea went on and on forever. They had explored a little around the area, asked some other tribes, and none knew the other side.

Miri sighed, "I feel guilt, horrid guilt gnawing at me for saying this but I prefer Seaside from the Forest."

Kosu reached out his boneless right arm and hugged her to his side. He had regained some of his muscles from the plentiful fish and Miri leaned in seeking the warmth and comfort.

"Don't, there's no reason for it. The Spirits clearly wanted us gone and here," he shrugged again. "That's all I think about it, you make things too complicated, Miri."

She huffed, "You don't think enough," she hesitated then, "but, maybe you're right this time."

"I told you so," Kosu said with a grin, bumping her playfully.

Miri rolled her eyes and stood up, grunting as the stretching pain set in from sitting too long. She kicked Kosu lightly with her moccasin covered foot.

"Let's go."

___________


Simo, son of Miri, stared at his reflection from the little pond left over from the tide. His hair had turned white now, he noted as he chuckled a little. Simo's knees complained as they always did so he had found a boulder to sit on and look at himself. Simo had been lucky enough to inherit Kosu's long beard. It used to be brown like his mother but had since turned white as well. His face was craggy and stiff, weather beaten from long days in the sea with the salty wind and water.

Little heads of black and brown, his grandchildren and other young relatives (truth be told, he couldn't keep track), hunted for crabs and leftover fish in the tidepools that dotted the beach. Simo was too old and frail to head out on a raft and fish these days. He didn't mind, much. It had stung, quite a bit, when he had to accept that he couldn't ride the waves anymore but that was just age. Inevitable and unstoppable, his father always said. No use dwelling on it.

One little black head came running up to him, Simo squinted to see the child properly.

"Paspa, Yuya hit me," she complained, face scrunching up. Simo took in a deep breath and let out a very, very long sigh, children, he thought before fixing his expression into a smile.

"I'll be sure to tell Yuya off for that, Miri," he pointed towards the rest of the children, "help your old Paspa to her?"

She folded her arms, "You're not that old, Paspa."

Simo felt the urge to jump off the boulder into the rocks headfirst at this point but somehow restrained himself. "Well, take me to them and you'll get a story," he said a bit shortly.

Her face immediately brightened, at this point, he was suspecting that Yuya hadn't hit her at all and she just wanted to hear stories. Oh well. Miri immediately began climbing the boulder with her little hands, already calloused from playing in the rocks.

"Slow down, Miri. I'll come down myself," Simo wasn't so far gone that he couldn't climb down a damn boulder without a child's help. He had gotten up here himself after all.

"Let's go, let's go, Paspa," she said impatiently as she climbed down and started marching towards the others.

"Yes, yes. Give me your hand and guide me, Miri. Or no stories," Simo said and Miri immediately came rushing back. The rest of their 'journey' was spent with Simo's patience getting worn down as Miri wanted to run there. Out in the distance, little rafts could be seen, their fathers and mothers fishing.

When Simo and Miri arrived, the whole gaggle of children piled around him on rocks and boulders. Simo knew it at this point, the whole thing was just for a story.

"Fine, fine," he climbed atop the largest boulder, a moss covered gray beast. With the sun shining down behind him highlighting his form in golden rays, Simo began to an adoring crowd of children.

What does Simo say? More importantly perhaps, What does he mean?

[] The Sea is kind and provides all, so we must protect it from any others less scrupulous.

What is ours is ours, what is theirs is theirs. There are boundaries, let all who break them be damned. We must care for ours and ours alone, our family, our tribe, our water, our land. Most of all, they must remain ours.

[] The Sea is Endless and we must strive for more until we reach the End. There is no End, the Journey and the End are one and the same.

A…reverence of dedication, of ambition. The Sea is Endless because it strove without end to its glory. The best fisher, the best father, the best mother, the best sibling, the best explorer. In striving to do so, one achieves said goal. Obsessive at worst, excellence at best.

[] The Sea gives us all, takes from us all. There is no need to worry when the sea will either give or take. It is out of one's control.

Resignation, laziness, and apathy in its worst form but wise acceptance and tireless endurance at its best. There is no need to dwell on unchangeable facts, one must simply endure and let it pass. All struggles and all bliss will eventually pass.