The Spirit of Civilization

Calling had not wasted any time, the flint and bone tools they normally used were no good for carving the greenstone, and so they would need better tools. He went to the elders and asked for their aid, and at first it was granted. Calling led many in scouring the ground for different sorts of stone, even stealing some from Stone Spitters. None proved successful, breaking as easily as regular flint against the greenstone.
Calling stared at the greenstone pieces which had so entranced and frustrated him for five years now. It was dark in his tent, but he could still find every chip and curve of their surface as though it was as bright as day. There were four pieces, more than anyone else had. All the pieces his friends had gotten had long been traded amongst the People for pretty things like the hide of a white deer or a flat shiny rock. Only he had wanted to keep them, to understand how they were so hard, and to find things that were harder. He glanced up as Sena pulled the tent flap aside.

"How goes it?' he asked her. "Well enough, the fights have halted for now. I have had to bash some heads, but it has worked out. And how goes it for you?"
Calling frowned. "There are no good stones here. There must be some further away, these had to come from somewhere and there may be other ones, but the elders will not allow any to come with me. If I must go alone-"
He stopped speaking suddenly as they heard shouting and then screaming. Opening the tent, they grabbed their spears and rushed outside. One of Sena's people was thrashing about, his body horrifically transformed. An arm had burst from his chest, tearing his skin. In its skeletal grip was his heart, still beating. His eyes had melted shut, but new ones had appeared all along his back. And he was screaming and waving his arms, lashing out with spear and fist.

It took three men working together to bring him down. No one else had been killed, but many had been injured. And now there was spite and fury amongst them as the People argued. Some said that this was the wrath of the spirits for bringing in outsiders, some said this was the first blow of the mountain demons, some said it was bad luck like getting attacked by a bear – after all, normally the worst that happened was your hair changed color. Regardless, something needed to be done. The debate was long and fierce, but in the end it was decided…

[] [Pit] that this was simple bad fortune.
[] [Pit] that this was a sign from the spirits, and someone must be appointed to hear them (-1 stability, +1 Culture Cap, +2 Culture).
[] [Pit] that this was proof that the pit was dangerous and must be avoided (-1 stability, Value upgraded).
[] [Pit] that this was proof of the dangers of bringing in outsiders (-1 stability, ??).

The debate was not done for a day when Calling left, frustrated with the elders. He had decided to seek out the Great Running Water that cut through the forest, reasoning that the green stone came from near the mountains and the Great Running Water did too. For some months he was gone, and then he returned, eyes alight, and in a sack of skin he carried three types of stone that none had ever seen. One was pure white and almost as hard as greenstone, but it was far easier to shape – if you hit it at the right angle, pieces broke off. The second type was also white, but it was really too soft to be any good. You could practically powder it with your bare hands. The third type was the strangest. Calling had been digging through some dirt along the river, trying to pry up a large piece of whitestone, and had flung several chunks of a thick, heavy patch of dirt by where he then made his fire. He had later noticed the dirt had turned to stone. Some further experimentation revealed that this dirtstone could be made to hold a shape and then put into the fire, where it would harden.

Calling wanted to at least establish a camp where the whitestone and dirtstone was, or possibly a proper settlement. While he agreed to defer on that, it raised the subject. How would such a distant camp be run?

In the discussion, the powers of the council of elders were formalized, at least to some extent. For now, the People would be led by the seven eldest members of the tribe, although many looked to Calling and Sena as well. There would perhaps be an opportunity to change how they were led at some point in the future.

Meanwhile, the more mundane business of the tribe continued well enough. Rocks were gathered and stocked for use in tools, the eastern fields nearly doubled in size, the stalks of grain growing ever taller, while in the western fields, efforts to do the same suffered under the depredations of trampling stonespitters and hungry birds. A few of the newly built tents nearly collapsed, but enough were built or repaired to keep shelter for all in the tribe.
Calling experimented with dirtstone, shaping larger and larger pieces, making it into pots to store grain and meat, which helped keep many insects out of the food, letting it last longer. Having found something adequate for shaping the greenstone, even if he only had a few pieces of it, this was his focus for now.