Turn 11 – Results
- Location
- Germany
Turn 11 – Results
Great promises you had made. Removing the binding of the Harsh Mountain, or Segbherg as the Sea People had started calling them. Rebuilding the Walking Mountain in some fashion. The greatest promise remained unspoken, yet clearest of them all. Defeat Skerhogis. It seemed madness to even challenge the beast after the stunning defeat and the frozen wyrm made sure to remind you of their dominance by taking to the sky whenever they pleased. But for now, it apparently dared not to approach your own stronghold. If you had learned one thing about Skerhogis, then that the monster was cautious. When the creature was certain of its victory, it would strike without hesitation and since it did not attempt to slay you when you were still wounded and retreating, it seemed not to like its chances when battling in the reef. So, you resolved to stay there for a while, until the frost no longer clung to your essence and you were at your strongest again. But that did not mean you had to sit idle.
There were so many things you needed to know. Your foe seemed to know so many secrets, so many ways of using power that yet eluded you. You had to close this gap, somehow, or the Devourer would stay one step ahead and there was no telling how much longer you could scrape by just by reacting to their actions, especially now that stopping them entirely had failed. Instead of focusing solely on healing, you spent the time needed to recuperate with your whole attention to the prayers of your followers. Once you had to be present to grant your blessings. Had to mould the power carefully, bit by bit, until it did what you had intended. With time, you had learned to stay vaguer in your blessings, giving your power more of a direction than clear orders and letting it manifest itself as it deemed fit. Somehow you knew that it would know your intentions even before you had first observed its wilfulness in truth. Now though, now things were different.
While you dwelled in the lightless depths, you could not see or hear your followers. The only thing you knew were their prayers. Some were loud and clear. The well worn rituals performed before your shrines. The last blessings spoken by a shaman to lifeless flesh. The silent calls of fishers braving waves and currents. Others were only whispers, barely reaching you at all. Odd requests from your own followers. Rites performed clumsily by people living on the edges of your people's lands. Prayers spoken haltingly and without faith, expecting no answer at all. Carefully you sifted through them all, listening not just to the words spoken, but taking in the very presence of those that called out to you. And then you understood.
So long had you thought that power was something that the mortals just made. Something they had no claim over and which was for the spirits to take as their due. But as you pried apart the words into meanings and intent, you found them the same as your blessings. Each prayer was an act of power and the greater the prayer, the mightier and more well-formed it was. The botched offerings and faithless calls for aid bore only the slightest trace of intent, most of their power likely lost to finding you at all. But the large rituals, those which invoked you by name at your own shrines for uncounted lifetimes, they were so great and sure of their purpose that they might as well have been sent by a true spirit. Finally you had found what made the humans special. They knew of you. They could form the power, wherever it sprang from in the first place, and send it on to you.
4
At once, you put to practice what you had learned, gathering what the people gave you and returning it to them with new intent. Or not quite. You still had obligations towards the Mountain People to fulfil and now that you could judge the firmness of the belief that a petitioner had, it was plain to see that many of them still were not quite certain in their worship. So, to them you sent it all, showering them in blessings so that they would not doubt your greatness. Not long after, the calls became firmer, the name Merwedor spoken with their proper reverence, even though to be called on with that strange name was odd for the first while. It did not matter though, just their belief did and as you could feel the sick, the bereaved and the hungry to call out for you from the mountains as one, you knew you captured them.
4
4
4
You also investigated other things in the light of your new knowledge, spending your attention on the reef and your own servant in equal measure. With Hegnevus, you found nothing that truly surprised you, merely more evidence to what you had deduced about the nature of prayers. Like you, the carp received prayers in its own right as the Sea People had gotten used to his efforts in guiding their boats, but he could not hold on to it. The essence you had imbued into him long ago marked him your servant and just as he gathered the power, that essence willed it to move on to you. It was a simple working, all things considered, and yet you marvelled for a long while how you had created it without even knowing what you did. It made you wonder though what were to happen if you permitted your herald to gather power in his own right. Would it strengthen him? Or would he become a spirit of his own? It was tempting to pry deeper into the matter, but it was also risky and so you moved on for the time being.
New research actions unlocked.
2
As for the reef, the investigation and ponderings brought you little of true value at first. Tracing back where its power sprung from was a pointless effort, as it seemed to appear from nothing at all and no matter how much you tried to shift and twist the flow to find a source, you never found one. Just tiny currents that seemed to flow in the entire world, too feeble to gain from them more than it took to gather them, suddenly surging into a torrent with no rhyme or reason. But while you kept pondering the matter, something else became apparent to you. When you had claimed this place, you had at first not known what to do and then merely listened to an instinct when you began to mingle your essence with the ebb and flow of the reef. Now though, having taken a close look at what you had crafted in your own servant, the similarities were undeniable. Here too sat a bit of your essence and it too made sure that power of this place was sent to you to do with as you pleased. There seemed to be barely a difference between your herald and the reef in that regard. Was this perhaps why the Harsh Mountain was tied to his mountain? Had his essence gotten so tangled to it that the binding became to tight? It was something to look into at least.
Even more new research actions unlocked.
2
But there was something else that was more urgent. As you had sunk beneath the waves for so long and directed all your blessings to the mountains, the Sea People had fallen on hard times. Their prayers had grown frantic in the winters as ice and snow became ever greater threats. Many boats were lost and with them skilled fishers that were missed dearly in the years to come. The Bay Village was hit the hardest as it relied on the sea the most to stay fed. Both the River Village and the Hill Village could compensate by hunting and foraging for the lack of fish. Yet even there the stockpiles were empty more often than not, especially with the beasts of the forests growing restless and preying on the people who dared to leave the villages. One winter that was especially hard, there was even a wave of prayers for forgiveness, the people begging for you mercy for the defilement of the dead that empty stomaches had driven them to.
For a long while you pondered what to do, but you had already overtaxed yourself. With so many of the people dying, there simply was not enough to reverse their plight without abandoning your efforts against Skerhogis. And with each lean season that passed, it seemed more urgent to keep you attention on the wyrm that kept flying through the coldest nights, mocking the mortals in their darkest hours. Relief came in the end not from your doings, but from mortal hand, though aided by blessings from the Harsh Mountain and some nudging from your herald. The people had found a way to lash planks together into ever larger boats, filling the gaps in between with hide and sealing it all with tar to keep the water out. Instead of oars that would break between the thick ice floes of the deep winter, they had erected a large mast on which they spanned hides which would catch the wind and propel the contraception. Suddenly a dozen people could fish from the same boat, letting the few experienced fishers take along many apprentices that needed only to throw out nets and reel them back in. The damage had been done, but at the very least, the new invention stemmed the bleeding for the time being.
3 (Hegnevus) + 1 4 4 (Segbherg) = 12
Not all of that damage was measured in lives though. It had also cost you a measure of trust. When you finally had regained your full strength, you left the sea at once to survey the diminished Bay Village and found it still larger than expected. While it was good to see fewer dead, it also said that they no longer spoke as many prayers to you as before. Worst of all, they had built a new shrine. Far from the village and not treated with reverence, but fear, yet it was as shrine none the less. To Skerhogis. There, in the throes of winter, the people had begun to offer blood to the wyrm, praying that it would take away the cold and spare them. Some families even brought the dead and dying to it, asking it to take what it must, but to spare those still living. No wonder it's flights had become more common. The beast had to show itself to his faithful after all. Was it betrayal? Or merely your reward for having ignored your own people in favour of the mountains? Wrath and guilt warred for in your mind as you could neither deny that the compact between the people and you had been violated, yet not which side had done so first. This had to end though, that much was certain.
At least your shamans were loyal enough to preach against this blasphemy. A few even had tried to smash the vile shrine one summer, reasoning that the beast of winter could not hurt them then, but when they touched it, they all froze to death on the spot. So, they resorted to trying to steer the people away from prostrating themselves before the monster, no matter how dire their plight. Sometimes they succeeded. Sometimes they did not. They were just too weak. Too mortal. What could a man say that would lessen the fear of winter and cold, let alone that of the giant beast that could slay even spirits? But maybe you could change that. You had planned to try this at some point and this was perhaps the best moment to do so, even though you had not much power to spare. Hegnevus could shape his power to steer the sea. If you gave some to the shamans, they would be able to grant their own blessings in your name and then, you reasoned, none would dare to ignore their words.
The shamans gathered once a year to exchange news from the different villages and meet old friends. The next time they did so, you were waiting for them, floating unseen above your shrine in the bay. Greetings had been exchanged, the first gossip traded and with levity they came to the shrine to offer thanks for the safe travel they had and to ask for your wisdom as they spoke about the troubles of the people and how to address them. This time though, you made things different. Once the rite had begun, you made the waters well up to cut off the island from the shore, which alarmed some of the shamans but did not make them falter in their songs and prayers. But they all stopped and gawked in awe when the sea rose up in earnest, deep, dark water forming into your avatar and bleached corals crowning your head. With a slow wave of your hand, you cast the finest spray of water over all of them and with it showring them with as much power as you dared to cast into a mortal body. No words were needed for them to understand as the purpose of your gift was carved into it for all who bore it to know beyond a doubt.
Bless the people in my name and be blessed in turn, you promised them, and most of them accepted that task. A few thrusted the might right back at you, feeling unworthy of such immense gifts. A few others grew covetous of what you had given them, resolving to abuse the gift for their own ends. But they were mortal still and you a spirit, the power knowing the call of its true master and betraying their intentions to you. So, you took the gift from them again and even though they grasped for it, trying to keep that spark of divinity for themselves, they could not even hope to contest your will. When all was done, you returned your avatar back to the sea, while you kept watching what would happen next, curious if your experiment would work. For a while longer they prayed to you in thanks and supplication, save for those few who were begging for your forgiveness after having the power stripped from them immediately, and when they stopped, they all gathered around the oldest and wisest of the shamans, unsure of what to do. Neither knew hew, that much you felt clearly from him, yet he strode confidently towards the still flooded sandbank connecting the shrine to the shore and raises his arms.
It was a feeble push. Only the barest touch compared to the iron grip with which you held the water in place. Yet it grew firmer and firmer with each moment, the old shaman getting a feeling for what he now wielded. He was no spirit. Even with all that you had loaned him, he could not have forced you to let the water subside again, but you relented none the less once you were content with his efforts. The waters parted at his command and with that, a new kind of shaman came to the land.
4
What do you task your empowered shamans with?
[] Alleviate the still problematic food situation.
[] Finally travel to the island in the sea and claim it in your name.
[] Shatter the shrine of Skerhogis and prevent the further worship of the wyrm.
[] Travel the lands and spread the knowledge that your shamans can perform miracles.
AN: Theorethically you could have laid down some emergency blessings to prevent another famine, but you spent all your power, including the stored point, so you had nothing to react to that emergency.
