Escaping Violence: We currently are transitioning from hunter Gatherer to agriculture (maybe). This is a harsh world. Escaping violence gives us a militaristic bent, but not as conquerors. It allows our people to avoid being taken of in the future hopefully and we won't be naive.
The shore: being a seafaring nation is huge in the long run. Having a tradition of naval power will give us a leg up not just in military power but also science. Learning astronomy leads to both religion, geometry, geography, mathematics etc.
I think these two votes synergize well for an Athenian Esque early civ.
For once, I just want to go full warmonger. I don't care how viable it is, I want to crush all other tribes beneath an iron fist. I've had enough peaceful building and cultural hegemony.
Fair enough, but what you're voting for seems more like a society that only is able to survive through raiding, like the Vikings, rather than a society that uses its military to build an empire like the Romans and whatnot. I think it's important to remember that for all the success the Mongol Empire had it didn't last long.
Viktor stalked slowly beneath the tops of the trees. His people had settled comfortably into a lowland river plain to rest, gather resources and rebuild their strength. He had remembered, vaguely, debates among the adults when he was an unbearded youth whether they should stay or move on. Those who said they should move on won, after fierce debate and many years. They place they had stopped had been beautiful, but it was only a tiny section of the entire world. There was so much more to see.
Value Gained!
Wanderlust
The People's hearts are constantly in motion. With every beat and every breath, they wonder: What lies beyond? Only the dead have ceased their walk; people and beasts were built to move. That was simply the way the spirits willed it.
Pros: Bonus for actions related to exploration or movement
Cons: Strife caused by permanent settlement; strife variable based on the degree of permanence
He was in the wilderness a short walk from the tribe's camp along the stony shore. The leaf litter and soft forest loam were home to numerous creatures, he merely had to find one. Even if he didn't, it was certain that one of the other hunters would find something. Even if only one of them succeeded in taking down a good sized beast, that would be enough to feed all of the People for a day. Whenever you made a kill, you shared and then were shared with in turn when your hunt brought nothing.
Of course, there were benefits to being the one that took home the day's kill. The People appreciated a killer and the women... he smiled at the thought before shaking his head. Ignore that, he reminded himself. Instead of having thoughts wander, you needed to think like a beast if you wanted to find one and Viktor was the best at that.
Checking the ground, Viktor paused, faint stirrings of fear crawling up his spine. Orker tracks. The People had learned much about the beasts that inhabited the land and of them all, the orker was the most fearsome. Each one they'd seen stood taller at the shoulder than a man was tall. Even if he were to reach his hands up as high as he could, Viktor wasn't certain if they would be higher. Their faces were bony, stretched taught across molted brown and grey skin. It almost looked like someone had taken their skull, boiled it, and stretched old leather over the remains. Combined with their massive body, they were a sight that every right thinking man feared.
Viktor remembered a story one of the older men had told around the campfire. He'd apparently witnessed an orker get ornery with an outcropping of rock. It has bashed its skull against the stone and the stone lost.
The tracks that he saw in the dirt were huge, even for orker standards. Each indent in the track was a large as his entire hand. No, Viktor wanted none of that. He'd much rather hunt something safe, like one of the brown ones. Those might rip a man limb from bloody limb, but at least with them, there was a chance to fight back. No man had ever killed an orker.
The sole reason that they knew that the orkers were not spirit made flesh was because they had seen dead ones in their distant travels. Rarely, very rarely. Huge beasts, most of them had died of natural causes or frozen to death when the world had ended. He'd never heard of them being killed, even by brown ones or packs of wolves.
Out of all the animals Viktor hoped to encounter, he hoped that he would see one of the horned ones. For all the fact that they were one of the few animals that the spirits had seen fit to bless with weapons, they were generally pretty cowardly. Show your face and they would run. Of course, that was the challenge. Find the beast, but not get so close that you it suddenly became tempted to lash out at you. Much better to take it at a distance, hit it with a bow, and then follow it until it finally dropped. He'd have to run after it, but that was a small price to bring home a safe prize. After all, you couldn't enjoy the rewards if you were dead. Worst come to worst, he'd be fine with one of those flightless birds. They were no risk and there was countless numbers of them, but there was no reputation in that hunt.
Pulling up to a tree overlooking a forgotten glen, Viktor slowly grinned. He spied a wolf, eyes slowly tracking for signs of threat. He was up wind, the thing didn't likely see him yet. The pet on it was extremely fine, soft from what he could see and there was plenty meat on its bones. He didn't even have to think before pulling arrows from his belt and sighting down his bow. Wolves were one of the worst animals. They hunted in packs and stole food from the People wherever they could.
Something caused him to hesitate, though. The wolf's head snapped to the left and fixated on Viktor, ears rotating round. Then it howled and the world exploded. Viktor's world exploded as he was smashed to the ground and trees crashed down while an orker charged the clearing. Sound erupted from from the great beast's throat, an unholy sound like a mountain had squealed. Above a bloodied muzzle, beady eyes fixed themselves on Viktor; all he could feel was fear. The only reason he'd survived was because he'd gotten clipped by a flying tree branch, not even the thing's main charge.
Honed instinct caused Viktor to pull back his bow and loose. The arrow impacted just below the orker's eye, but had all of the force of a feather. The flint tip shattered and its flesh was cut, but the arrow bounced off without doing any real damage.
Viktor whirled and run. It was futile to run from an orker. Their legs were longer, they could crash through brush and undergrowth that would hinder a normal person; you might as well run from an avalanche for all the good it did you. Viktor knew he was just going to die tired.
Stumbling over a root, Viktor went down hard. Something snapped by the time he'd rolled to a stop. It's only the bow, he thought hysterically. It's not your leg, get up and move! The orker squealed again, smashing brush and roots aside as it charged. Hate seemed to infuse its very spirit. Hate and the want to destroy. Each tusk hanging from its maw was long enough to gut a man; the thing was obviously made to kill.
Praying to all of the spirits for mercy, Viktor's brain short circuited when he saw the wolf from before leap. It flew in a ball of fur and fang, taking chunks out of the back of the orker's leg. The beast bellowed and kicked, sending the brave wolf flying before awkwardly turning to face it.
Everything was a farce, Viktor realized. The wolf I was going to kill, defending me from an orker. Seeing the little thing up against a great, demonic beast made him laugh. He continued to laugh when he drew the axe from his belt and slammed it into the orker's other leg. I'm already dead, Viktor rationalized. My body simply hasn't stopped. Freeze me, I'm not going to let someone fight for me while I run.
The orker squealed and bucked. The creature was massive and even though it only bounced into Viktor, it sent him tumbling roughly over the ground. He slammed into a root and it instantly robbed him of breath. Fighting past the stars in his vision, Viktor struggled to his feet. Something is his side was on fire. Every breath brought shooting pains from his feet to his head.
The orker wasn't doing so well, he saw. The thing limped with every step it took. Only the fact that it had four limbs allowed it to even stand, blood ran freely from the wound it had taken from the axe. The wound wasn't deep, but even a small cut to the leg seemed to really hobble the beast. It didn't even seem to be that agile. Orkers were wickedly fast on the charge, but it stumbled when facing both wolf and man working together. The wolf moved quickly, nipping and keeping the orker off balance while the man struck deep blows into the openings created. It was something that neither could do along, but worked so well together.
Something in Viktor's head was twisted, he realized when another axe blow slammed into the orker's underside. This was too much fun! He was laughing and crying, fighting a demon alongside some type of wolf spirit. Agony mixed with joy and he laughed! He must be dreaming!
But... dreams end.
The wolf was a second slow, the orker stepped up, there was a crunch and the wolf howled before going utterly silent. Viktor lost it. Red descended on his vision and he slammed his axe home in the orker's underbelly so hard it stuck. Pulling his knife, Viktor leaped and stabbed, dragging himself up onto the creature's back. He couldn't retreat. He couldn't count on his friend. It was just like wrestling with his brothers, he reasoned. Control their back and go for the head.
The orker went mad trying to knock him off, but Viktor managed to clamp on with his knees. Flint flashed in his hand and slammed directly into the beast's eye. The creature squealed and blood welled, but the knife chipped. Even the orker's eyes were made of bone. Viktor didn't care and slammed the knife home again and again. It bounced the first time and the second, but on the third it finally sunk home. The resistance seemed to suddenly vanish between the beast's shoulder and skull.
The orker went nuts, charging through the trees, scattering them but stopped instantly when Viktor dragged the knife across the soft hollow. He jumped and the orker crashed to the ground. It was still alive, glaring hatefully all the while, but it could move. Viktor felt a sense of perverse satisfaction as the light slowly left the thing's eyes.
"I'll enjoy eating you," he promised the beast.
Not much was left of the wolf spirit when Viktor went back to inspect it. The thing's bones and muscles were pulped. Its skin had ripped and burst from the sheer amount of pressure that had been exerted on it. It looked like a bug that someone had caught and then crushed. Obviously dead.
Whatever feelings Viktor had were cut off by a soft yipping coming from the edge of the glade. Wolf cubs. That was why the wolf fought an orker and fought it to the death. "You still saved my life, spirit," Viktor said. He thought of his club, momentarily, but knew that wasn't the answer. It would be swift death and one free of complication, but he couldn't do that to the children of the spirit that had saved him. Wolves were hated since the stole kills from hunters and occasionally chased the People. Their ancestor had paid their way, Viktor was sure. An orker weighted more than ten and ten men. Even if they smoked it, most of the meat would likely go to waste.
It was the People's rule that the kith and kin of a dead hunter would receive their share. It protected everyone, their families, and encouraged hunters to range further and go for larger kills. Were the wolves not hunters as was he? They were entitled to a share and he would fight that they receive it.
The People had flourished along the Stony Shore, taking countless beasts and other animals for food, shelter, and clothing. Their hunt consumed things from the large, flightless glitter birds, to horned ones, brown ones, wolves, and even dread orkers. Where did the People specialize in their hunts?
Expand Wolfpacks - Increase the number of tamed wolves that follow the People. Willfully leave out food for them in order to attract more wolves and begin taking their young into the tribe as Hunters.
Create Annual Festival - Celebrate widely and graciously for the success that the People have faced. Eat, drink, and be merry!
Increase Hunting - Double down on the People's traditional method of gathering sustenance. Work to bring in additional meat, fur, and leather.
Explore (Wanderlust bonus) - Search far and wide in this strange new land for things that may be of benefit to the People. Resources can be found and contact established with other tribes.
Study Travel (Unlocked by Wanderlust) - Invest time in learning how most effectively to travel. The world is harsh and strange, learning how to traverse it will save the People much in effort and food.
Establish Waystation (Penalized by Wanderlust) - Create a relay point for the People, a place that they can stay during their travels or when they make annual trips to different locations.
Venerate Spirits - Offer thanks to the spirits for their gracious prevision of the world, even as it struggles through cycles of life and death.
Welp, guess we've got to go full Genghis Khan, seeing as how we get penalized for settling. That sucks. When hordes conquer empires, they usually end up assimilating into the culture of the conquered. A lot of the culture we develop prior is going to get lost.
Lame Nomads suck, especially as the guy above me says when we inevitably settle after conquering were gonna lose most of our own culture. Well guess we can impede civilization as much as possible for our own benefit!
