- Location
- Canada
[X] The sorry lot of the fishers. The Black Sea is dangerous and those that fish it face death on the shores and derision at home
Heimskringla - A Original Mythic God Quest
- Location
- Reno
- Pronouns
- They/Them
The affects of all the choices, for those who are curious
Hearth - The Home, Family, Community, Protection. Sedentary Hunter-Gatherers, very community focused, very clannish
Torch- Guidance, Flame, Bravery. Nomadic Hunter-Gatherers, expansionist and outwardly focused, xenophobic
Moss- The Caves, Agriculture, Nature. Sedentary Farmers, tied to their crops, vegetarians, most pacifist
Fish-Water, Animals, The Hunt. Nomadic Fishers and Hunters, violent, competitive, great athletes, Hin supremacist
Hearth - The Home, Family, Community, Protection. Sedentary Hunter-Gatherers, very community focused, very clannish
Torch- Guidance, Flame, Bravery. Nomadic Hunter-Gatherers, expansionist and outwardly focused, xenophobic
Moss- The Caves, Agriculture, Nature. Sedentary Farmers, tied to their crops, vegetarians, most pacifist
Fish-Water, Animals, The Hunt. Nomadic Fishers and Hunters, violent, competitive, great athletes, Hin supremacist
keenscythe
No longer NEET
- Location
- WA, USA
[X]The attacks on the frontier. Twisted creatures, raiders from other tribes and war bands of strange creatures launch assaults often on the furthest Hin homes.
Xenophobic? I guess Torch needed a downside so it wouldn't be the best choice in every situation.
As an argument for dealing with the attacks instead of helping the fishermen is that the fishermen are grown adults and those that are being raided upon would likely include poor families with children in need of protection. There is little point in expanding food supply to support more members of tribe if we are abandoning the less fortunate to the whims of cruel darkness. After all being a god of the hearth won and so protecting the weaker tribe members from
the darkness fit better in my mind than increasing the bounty of the sea.
First rule of Nascent Gods: Protect your followers! Preferably by killing monsters hard enough to send a message. If you lose them, you probably won't get another set!
Xenophobic? I guess Torch needed a downside so it wouldn't be the best choice in every situation.
As an argument for dealing with the attacks instead of helping the fishermen is that the fishermen are grown adults and those that are being raided upon would likely include poor families with children in need of protection. There is little point in expanding food supply to support more members of tribe if we are abandoning the less fortunate to the whims of cruel darkness. After all being a god of the hearth won and so protecting the weaker tribe members from
the darkness fit better in my mind than increasing the bounty of the sea.
First rule of Nascent Gods: Protect your followers! Preferably by killing monsters hard enough to send a message. If you lose them, you probably won't get another set!
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- Location
- Reno
- Pronouns
- They/Them
In several places I have been asked to elaborate on what actions Great Hearth will take for each choice.
For the climate, Hearth will impart just a touch of their blazing warmth to air of the Great Cave and the waters of the Black Sea
For the fishers Hearth will warm the ports of the Hin with their touch, making the waters more suitable for humans and attracting both Hin to the coast and more prestige to the fishers
For the game Hearth will venture out into the Great Cave. Where they touch the earth fecund plants will grow and when they reach the animals they will make council with their spirits.
For the raids Hearth will go to each Har'Tor and let their flames warm the walls, giving the Hin strength and letting them hold back against the night.
For the climate, Hearth will impart just a touch of their blazing warmth to air of the Great Cave and the waters of the Black Sea
For the fishers Hearth will warm the ports of the Hin with their touch, making the waters more suitable for humans and attracting both Hin to the coast and more prestige to the fishers
For the game Hearth will venture out into the Great Cave. Where they touch the earth fecund plants will grow and when they reach the animals they will make council with their spirits.
For the raids Hearth will go to each Har'Tor and let their flames warm the walls, giving the Hin strength and letting them hold back against the night.
Sedentary Hunter-Gathering is an awful strategy, and is the first thing we must change in Hin society. Going nomad doesn't combo with Hearths that well, so agriculture it will be.
We are told there are a lot of immigrants moving in, so I have good hopes that we can tech assimilate agriculture this way.
If we start to give more food to the Hin by blessing the animals or the fish, they will not have an incentive to learn to feed themselves properly though.
Thus, climate or warriors are left. I see no reason to make the Hin sissies who can't handle a bit of cold (I'm from the north myself). Making the Hin think of defensive blessings when they think of war matches nicely with the turtling strategy of the Hearth, however.
[X]The attacks on the frontier. Twisted creatures, raiders from other tribes and war bands of strange creatures launch assaults often on the furthest Hin homes.
We are told there are a lot of immigrants moving in, so I have good hopes that we can tech assimilate agriculture this way.
If we start to give more food to the Hin by blessing the animals or the fish, they will not have an incentive to learn to feed themselves properly though.
Thus, climate or warriors are left. I see no reason to make the Hin sissies who can't handle a bit of cold (I'm from the north myself). Making the Hin think of defensive blessings when they think of war matches nicely with the turtling strategy of the Hearth, however.
[X]The attacks on the frontier. Twisted creatures, raiders from other tribes and war bands of strange creatures launch assaults often on the furthest Hin homes.
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BadAtScreenNames
Killed a man in Reno just to watch him die
- Location
- London
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X]The sorry lot of the fishers. The Black Sea is dangerous and those that fish it face death on the shores and derision at home
KnownParadox
Not a sphere
- Location
- Canada
[X] The growing rarity of game. The animal paths and trails the hunters follow get less traveled by the day and they must go further out to find animals to hunt.
[X] The growing rarity of game. The animal paths and trails the hunters follow get less traveled by the day and they must go further out to find animals to hunt.
Spirit minions?
DeepWaters
No one will be the wiser.
- Location
- Land of Spiders and Shipping Charts
[X] The growing rarity of game. The animal paths and trails the hunters follow get less traveled by the day and they must go further out to find animals to hunt.
1:4 Fish
- Location
- Reno
- Pronouns
- They/Them
You know not of armor, but still the flames on the outside of your form twists into a mask of defiance. You know not of the sword, but a club of fire hardened stone. You know not how to swim, but you wade into the Black Sea all the same. For down there, in the darkest depths, you feel something. Something old and miserly, greedy and fat from stuffing its face with your dead. Your. The Hin are your people. The act of possession fills the empty shell inside the fire with shivers, with warmth that not even your smaller form knows. This warmth, the warmth of your Hin, protects you against the icy waters of the Sea. Where you walk the water glows and shimmers, fish come bubbling up from the depths to nibble at the tips of your fires and the spirits of the currents and waves come to gawk. For a while on your great descent you stay among their shallow holds and Tors, drinking wine made of fish-eye and fermented seaweed. They are strange, angular beings, unformed due to their lack. They are owned by no one people, but by all who dwell upon the sea. But for all that they are not, they are beautiful in the same way that their underwater realm is. In isolated grottoes you lay with them, letting them caress your everlasting flames even as you fill them with your warmth. After the melding is done your paramours whisper secrets in your ears. About their secret ways and knowledges. About the strange peoples, the nonHin who live on the far shores and islands of the Black Sea. And of their liege; that great dark presence you feel below. The Black Sea King.
Down, down deeper you go, leaving the water spirits to wail in mourning for your sure death. They promise that, no matter your survival, they will look after your children well, Hin and otherwise. This girds you with hope, which is dearly needed in the stygian depths. For, in the blackest layers of the sea, lay many terrible things. Drowned palaces and towers, vast graveyards of bone and bloated flesh. A plain of rusted metal and slowly leaking pods filled with the weapons of a thousand fallen ages. The Black Sea, the Great Dark. Underneath the world, running under continents and nations alike. And there, at its black center, its ebony heart, lies the Palace of the Black Sea King. A thousand souls from every lost people and place to have ever died and been tossed into the great, blind rivers of the world come streaming into its gates. Guards, clad in the bones of dead sea monsters and wielding weapons made from the teeth of the long gone dragons, patrol its thousand walls. No mortal could hope to siege this place, no mortal could hope to even look upon it. But you are no mortal, you are the Great Hearth, guardian of the Hin. And you need but a moment of its King's time.
Your flame smashes the gate, engulfs its walls, chars its guards and pushes into its deepest halls. There, sitting on a throne of fallen cities, the King rises to meet you. Your battle plays out for a whole age of the world, as light and warmth meets icy black darkness and cold. His sword is terrible, his claws rending and his eyes can cool even the hottest of your fires. Your blood makes that pitch dark throne room blaze like the lost sun. He hurts you sore and opens many, many wounds across your form, but that will not stop you. Finally, with a awesome cry, you bring the club down upon his hand. His scream of pain shatters the very stone of the world, unmakes and recreates the abyssal plains of the kingdom. Seeing your chance you rush forwards and pin a scrap of his cape to his throne. Just enough, just a small enough victory to prevent his freezing dark from reaching the waters of the Hin. You speed towards the surface, through the kingdoms of the dead, through the homes of the sea spirits, to reach the shore. When you arrive you find that the bay of the Hin is alight with flame. At first horror fills you, did you in your rage alight too much? But then your lovers, the sea spirits who you had laid with so long ago, comfort you. No, they say, the fire is of you but it will not burn the Hin. For the Sea spirits saw your blood roil up from the depths in great torrents and, fearing your slain, put some of their essence into it. These specks of fire will not harm any who sail this bay and will keep the darkness away. With that you raise back to your people, your Hin, and rest.
_____________________
Ishmael whispered a prayer to Agitor as he pushed out a small fungus bowl filled with fish bone and moss into the Black Sea. This marked the second day in a row in which he had come home with fulls nets, a sure sign of favor. Vas* Bay gleamed bright with light from the thousands of Agivas** that filled the waters, just like it had since the days of his grandfather. He remembered the tales that his grandfather had told him of his own grandfather, who had been on the bay when Agitor battled the Darkness. According to him there had once been land where there was a bay, but then a great crack and crash was heard, so loud that it blinded those near the shore and deafened any who was not in Hin'Tor when it happened. When his grandfather had exited his Tor he saw that the whole land had collapsed into the Black Sea. Not only that, but there were small specks of light in the water! For years afterwards the specks had grown more and more common, the blood of Agitor filling up the by as its sea spirit lovers brought more of their children to the surface. Vas Bay had been warm and fruitful for the Hin, so unlike the dark waves once you left its protective embrace. The fishermen had done well since that day.
With his offering down, Ishamel paddled his slender canoe of fungus wood out across the waters of the Bay, checking his nets and traps. The blind shrimp and fish that filled the bay had been caught in them, and he pulled in a great haul from the sea. As he pass by a Agivas, as was tradition, he made a small prick on the tip of one of his fingers and let a bit of blood fall on it. The mass of light and fronds seems to shine brighter then. His fingers were each scarred at the tip from a long life of fish, he was proud of this, proud that he could feed the blood of a god so well.
Hours later, within his own Tor, Ishamel ate a thin stew of fish and mushroom, listening to his friends Amos and Hanan argue over their own meals.
"The Mishmal grow more and more bold Amos, we cannot simply stand by and let the far Har'Tors be drowned in their misshapen bodies." Hanan said, pounding his fist onto the stone table to enhance his point.
"Bah," Amos said with a wave of his hand, "Let the Mishmal come. Our warriors are strong and then cannot stand our fires. The real trouble are those boats we've been seeing out on the waves. Far past Styia*** Island. They are not the Hin, and they are sure to hunger for our lands!"
"They are men though, are they not? We can reason with men, we cannot reason with Mishmal!" Hanan said before taking a sip of his mushroom wine. "Mishmal cannot even speak our tongue."
Ishamel, long out of this conversation, thought of the words the Hearth Priest had said too him two days ago and raised his voice. "That may not be true, Hanan."
The two turned to look at him, so Ishamel continued. "According to Chanokh, a group of Mishmal came to Chan'Tor a week ago. They spoke in our tongue, but broken, and said they wanted to speak with us."
_____
There are others here, in this reaching blackness. Others besides that terrible Black Sea King. Those like you, with peoples of their own. You savor your new name, Agitor, before rapping it around yourself like a cloak. With unsteady steps, using feet and legs is still a new thing, you walk to meet them.
How do you portray yourself:
[]The Chief
[]The Warrior
[]The Host
[]The Friend
Which of the two do you take to sit besides your fire:
[]Yingli the Wayfinder
[]Urogash Humstomper
[]Neither
[]Both
*Hin for blood
**Lit translated as Fireblood
***Hin word for a far darkness, or a deep darkness
Down, down deeper you go, leaving the water spirits to wail in mourning for your sure death. They promise that, no matter your survival, they will look after your children well, Hin and otherwise. This girds you with hope, which is dearly needed in the stygian depths. For, in the blackest layers of the sea, lay many terrible things. Drowned palaces and towers, vast graveyards of bone and bloated flesh. A plain of rusted metal and slowly leaking pods filled with the weapons of a thousand fallen ages. The Black Sea, the Great Dark. Underneath the world, running under continents and nations alike. And there, at its black center, its ebony heart, lies the Palace of the Black Sea King. A thousand souls from every lost people and place to have ever died and been tossed into the great, blind rivers of the world come streaming into its gates. Guards, clad in the bones of dead sea monsters and wielding weapons made from the teeth of the long gone dragons, patrol its thousand walls. No mortal could hope to siege this place, no mortal could hope to even look upon it. But you are no mortal, you are the Great Hearth, guardian of the Hin. And you need but a moment of its King's time.
Your flame smashes the gate, engulfs its walls, chars its guards and pushes into its deepest halls. There, sitting on a throne of fallen cities, the King rises to meet you. Your battle plays out for a whole age of the world, as light and warmth meets icy black darkness and cold. His sword is terrible, his claws rending and his eyes can cool even the hottest of your fires. Your blood makes that pitch dark throne room blaze like the lost sun. He hurts you sore and opens many, many wounds across your form, but that will not stop you. Finally, with a awesome cry, you bring the club down upon his hand. His scream of pain shatters the very stone of the world, unmakes and recreates the abyssal plains of the kingdom. Seeing your chance you rush forwards and pin a scrap of his cape to his throne. Just enough, just a small enough victory to prevent his freezing dark from reaching the waters of the Hin. You speed towards the surface, through the kingdoms of the dead, through the homes of the sea spirits, to reach the shore. When you arrive you find that the bay of the Hin is alight with flame. At first horror fills you, did you in your rage alight too much? But then your lovers, the sea spirits who you had laid with so long ago, comfort you. No, they say, the fire is of you but it will not burn the Hin. For the Sea spirits saw your blood roil up from the depths in great torrents and, fearing your slain, put some of their essence into it. These specks of fire will not harm any who sail this bay and will keep the darkness away. With that you raise back to your people, your Hin, and rest.
_____________________
Ishmael whispered a prayer to Agitor as he pushed out a small fungus bowl filled with fish bone and moss into the Black Sea. This marked the second day in a row in which he had come home with fulls nets, a sure sign of favor. Vas* Bay gleamed bright with light from the thousands of Agivas** that filled the waters, just like it had since the days of his grandfather. He remembered the tales that his grandfather had told him of his own grandfather, who had been on the bay when Agitor battled the Darkness. According to him there had once been land where there was a bay, but then a great crack and crash was heard, so loud that it blinded those near the shore and deafened any who was not in Hin'Tor when it happened. When his grandfather had exited his Tor he saw that the whole land had collapsed into the Black Sea. Not only that, but there were small specks of light in the water! For years afterwards the specks had grown more and more common, the blood of Agitor filling up the by as its sea spirit lovers brought more of their children to the surface. Vas Bay had been warm and fruitful for the Hin, so unlike the dark waves once you left its protective embrace. The fishermen had done well since that day.
With his offering down, Ishamel paddled his slender canoe of fungus wood out across the waters of the Bay, checking his nets and traps. The blind shrimp and fish that filled the bay had been caught in them, and he pulled in a great haul from the sea. As he pass by a Agivas, as was tradition, he made a small prick on the tip of one of his fingers and let a bit of blood fall on it. The mass of light and fronds seems to shine brighter then. His fingers were each scarred at the tip from a long life of fish, he was proud of this, proud that he could feed the blood of a god so well.
Hours later, within his own Tor, Ishamel ate a thin stew of fish and mushroom, listening to his friends Amos and Hanan argue over their own meals.
"The Mishmal grow more and more bold Amos, we cannot simply stand by and let the far Har'Tors be drowned in their misshapen bodies." Hanan said, pounding his fist onto the stone table to enhance his point.
"Bah," Amos said with a wave of his hand, "Let the Mishmal come. Our warriors are strong and then cannot stand our fires. The real trouble are those boats we've been seeing out on the waves. Far past Styia*** Island. They are not the Hin, and they are sure to hunger for our lands!"
"They are men though, are they not? We can reason with men, we cannot reason with Mishmal!" Hanan said before taking a sip of his mushroom wine. "Mishmal cannot even speak our tongue."
Ishamel, long out of this conversation, thought of the words the Hearth Priest had said too him two days ago and raised his voice. "That may not be true, Hanan."
The two turned to look at him, so Ishamel continued. "According to Chanokh, a group of Mishmal came to Chan'Tor a week ago. They spoke in our tongue, but broken, and said they wanted to speak with us."
_____
There are others here, in this reaching blackness. Others besides that terrible Black Sea King. Those like you, with peoples of their own. You savor your new name, Agitor, before rapping it around yourself like a cloak. With unsteady steps, using feet and legs is still a new thing, you walk to meet them.
How do you portray yourself:
[]The Chief
[]The Warrior
[]The Host
[]The Friend
Which of the two do you take to sit besides your fire:
[]Yingli the Wayfinder
[]Urogash Humstomper
[]Neither
[]Both
*Hin for blood
**Lit translated as Fireblood
***Hin word for a far darkness, or a deep darkness
- Location
- Reno
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Please note that you can only choose one option each.
keenscythe
No longer NEET
- Location
- WA, USA
[X]The Chief
[X]Urogash Humstomper
[X]Urogash Humstomper
[X]The Host
[X]Both
Who are these guys again? Anyway, I'd normally go for only one mortal representative to avoid adding too many cooks and spoiling the broth. However, our Hearth bonus was communal unity, so might as well try to take use of it.
I'm struggling between Host and Warrior. Friend is too naive when looking at our peoples' violent past, and Chief would give the impression that we actually decide things for our mortals, which we don't do.
I'll go for Host now though. There's turtling, and then there's isolation. I'm afraid that the Warrior + Hearth combo would lead to the latter.
[X]Both
Who are these guys again? Anyway, I'd normally go for only one mortal representative to avoid adding too many cooks and spoiling the broth. However, our Hearth bonus was communal unity, so might as well try to take use of it.
I'm struggling between Host and Warrior. Friend is too naive when looking at our peoples' violent past, and Chief would give the impression that we actually decide things for our mortals, which we don't do.
I'll go for Host now though. There's turtling, and then there's isolation. I'm afraid that the Warrior + Hearth combo would lead to the latter.
- Location
- Somewhere!
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X]The Host
[X]Yingli the Wayfinder
[X]Yingli the Wayfinder
- Location
- nz
[X]The Host
[X]Both
[X]Both
BadAtScreenNames
Killed a man in Reno just to watch him die
- Location
- London
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X]The Host
[X]Both
We're the social God. Let's be social!
[X]Both
We're the social God. Let's be social!
[X]The Host
[X]Yingli the Wayfinder
[X]Yingli the Wayfinder