Tales of History - A Civ-Builder Quest

Though the air between the two tribes was still tense, or probably because of this, both the council of the villagers and the chieftain of clans decided to invest as much time as possible to mend the wounds of the fighting. With the larders of everyone well stocked and so much fewer mouths to feed, there was enough time to spare. The weather was gentle to the battered tribes too with only the occasional light snow, thus making it easy to travel between the camps. The first step that every side agreed on was to clear the forests and meadows of the traps left behind by Snow-Fox's efforts, barring those that had been constructed for the purpose of catching game. In the process, they would also retrieve whatever bodies could be found and tear down the grisly totems they had constructed from the killed.

It was a slow process and ripe with peril, for the tribes leaders rightfully feared that the small bands traipsing through the lonesome forests might invite reprisals. To assemble the groups from only villagers or clansmen was proposed, but quickly dismissed, for neither side knew with any certainty were the others had acted, many traps and totems even forgotten entirely due to their creators dying. And furthermore, it would have defeated the purpose of the exercise. What the leaders wanted was that all people would take care of the dead together, regardless of the allegiance of either the party or the dead. To see the grief caused by their actions to the others' side, and hopefully to share it, would foster understanding or so most hoped.

Only Winter-Sun was not in agreement with the plan, going on a spiteful rant about the debased practices the clan performed upon their dead and how this madness might spread to the villagers. He was summarily ignored, only the few elders left nodding along while he spoke while everyone else just waited for him to run out of breath. It was not as if anyone blamed the elders for their minuscule role in the fights and the events that led to them, but most of the tribe was quickly weary of their flat out refusal to work with the clans in any fashion. The situation was as it was and no one felt that constant complaining was doing anything productive.

Alas, the fears did not come to pass. A few groups came back with wounded, though those were all from mishaps with the remaining traps. The long, wood reinforced gloves the clans-folk wore came in quite handy to dig out stakes and night-stone shards from the pits in the snow they had been embedded in, but a accidents still happened now and then. Not a single incident of fighting was reported, the travelling bands instead trading stories while they worked. The villagers told about the steppe they had left not so long ago, about the hunger the drove them and the spirits guidance through the mountains.

From the clans-folk though emerged a quite different tale. Many generations ago, they had lived in lush forests, but calamity befell their lands. The winters began to stretch ever further, snow piling higher and higher while they lasted. Then came the Black Men, vicious creatures half man and half demon, plundering the camps of the clans and driving them to the mountains. Thus the clans came to live in the mountains, where the Black Men could not reach them, leaving them only when the winter came to make camp along the slopes.

From the tales of the clans, you learn more about your surroundings.

What surprised the council and the chieftain most though was the dead that were gathered. The villagers had burned every body they could get a hold on, leaving only skulls and bones behind, often still wrapped in charred meat. It was expected that more complete bodies would turn up too, from dead that had died alone and were not found before, from clansmen that died to traps or from the staked torsos they had left behind. To reconcile the clans-folks desire to consume parts of these bodies with the villagers revulsion at the thought was a task many feared, yet it was not necessary.

The parties brought back only skulls and bones, not a single strip of flesh left on them. When queried about this, they steadfastly stuck with their tale, that they brought the corpses as they found them, the pyres some had claimed to see burning in the distance clearly just the fires of their camps. Villager and clans-folk alike told it thus and both sides defending each other if doubt was cast upon their story. Many thus asked if they at least knew who the dead were, desperate to know which bones were that of their kin, yet unable to tell them apart. To that the hunters only said that they did not know either. If the bones of clans and village were too much alike to tell them apart, then maybe they should not have warred with each other, if they wanted to know which skull was that of their kin.


So the remains were gathered up in the village and the clans camps, neat rows of skulls stacked on top of the piles of shattered bones. Any who could without a doubt claim one of them could do so, though no one came forward. Instead a strange practice started to spread. At first it was mostly the clans-folk, travelling to the piles in both their camps and the village to sit among the dead and silently whisper their thoughts into the rows, hoping for their kin's spirits to hear their voices. Some left small figurines of bone and horn among the bones, of animals and men alike, as gifts to the dead or for them to remember themselves. Soon the villagers joined that practice, they too feeling the need for closure.

It slowly turned into a steady flow of people walking back and forth between camp in village to commune with the skulls and in its wake, the people became more comfortable with each others' presence. It was difficult to hate each other, when they saw the tears of mourning many shed in those days. Tales and trade followed in its wake, the clans-folk bringing dried goat and horn trinkets to the village and leaving with smoked boar and small ornaments made from night-stone shards.

Though while the leaders were heartened by these displays, the whole ordeal still seemed alien to many, even if they participated. It was soothing after all the slaughter to feel close to the lost, yet the lack of proper burial felt distinctively disrespectful to many. After all, they had just haphazardly gathered bones and piled them where there was room. Yet no one alone dared to change anything about the arrangement, fearing that others might take offense at their removal. And thus it fell upon the council and the chieftain to decide what should be done.


The dead have been retrieved and the people took a great step towards each other. But what should be done about the practice of keeping the skulls on display?
[] Discourage the practice. The people should reclaim the remains of their kin and do with them as they seem fit.
[] Allow it to continue for now. Any new dead will be buried as their kin sees fit and as the remembrance of the fighting fades, the skulls and bones can be disposed.
[] Tacitly encourage the practice. What unites the villagers and clans-folk is their belief in their ancestors watching them. There is no reason to object to keeping mementos of them.
[] Embrace the practice. Come spring, build a central place for all remains to be gathered and encourage everyone to burn their dead and inter their remains there.
[] Write-In


AN: That was probably one of the best moments for a crit to fall. As for the burial practices, this was pretty likely to happen either way, since neither side had any cremation practice so far, yet it was used pretty widely to destroy bodies.