Cwryl had journeyed for three seasons to see this place, and in seeing it he found his emotions turbulent and unsettled. Out beyond the hills and valleys and into the great plains where the waters ran freely when the rains came, he could see the mysterious and dangerous people. From his vantage point along the edge of their territory, he could see much, and he was glad that he came, for he saw not with the eyes of a trader or a hunter or warrior or even a farmer, but of a Big Man, and that told him so much more than what others could tell him.
From discussion with other tribes suffering attacks from these people, he had worked out much of how these people worked, and while he couldn't confirm it without getting in closer, he had put together a great deal from stories and seeing how their communities were laid out, and everything about it made him both despair and rage. These people were not well managed, their farms were haphazardly laid out and there was clearly no central planning to everything. Each little cluster of houses seemed to control the farmland around itself and no further. Some of the clusters were clearly bigger than others, with the size based on the quality of the land they managed, although there were also homes that were clearly suffering either disrepair, damage, or in one case a cluster had clearly been burned recently and only partially repaired. He had only one conclusion: it was as if each of his subordinates refused to work for the group, but rather had been seized by the madness of his father and chosen to quarrel with all others around them. Dark tales were told of how when they attacked other people, they did not just carry off the young women but the older women and even boys as well, and how they would go out of their way to kill people on their raids. Their intent seemed not to find new wives, but new farmers, forcing others to tend to the land for them, even as they killed off those in the way of their territorial expansions.
It was hideous, repulsive, destructive, bestial, and it was clearly working!
All who Cwryl had spoken with agreed: these farms had not been here a generation ago, and two generations ago their territory had been even further back. For his people the lower grounds along the valleys had been steadily filling up as more and more people were born, and they had been steadily climbing up the sides of the hills, they didn't break new ground unless they needed it to keep their stockpiles in the right range for the number of mouths they had to feed, because expanding the irrigation system was a lot of work. These people... their farms were definitely less productive to his eyes, but they just had so many. There had to be starvation and failures on top of the violence that they projected and inflicted upon themselves, but their growth was clearly outpacing their own stupidity inflicted damage by a significant degree.
What foul folk. They represented everything his mother had taught him to despise about his father and those like him, magnified to a ludicrous degree, and he suddenly felt all reservations about kinship drift away. They could be violent and destructive, but his people cared about each other and their land and they tried not to be enormous dickheads to their neighbours, even if in his eyes they often failed without intercession. No more though. These people, they might never climb up the hills, and if they did it would take generations to spread across to the valley, but they were still a threat. Not for the current generation or even the next, but Cwryl had already started thinking in terms of generations for the tending of the forests. He would give his assessment to the caravan group and return to personally explain if his bones still had it in him, and the traders would keep everyone informed over the years.
Cwryl hated this place. He was glad he came.
And so it was that Cwryl's last great act was to tell his people of the dangers of unrestricted greed and lack of empathy for others, and to give them a warning of what could happen if respect for the land was lost. While preparation was needed, the lowlanders were distant enough that what was needed was not war - which honestly was currently impossible - but to continue to build up the valley and ensure that it was well managed and became nothing like the lowlanders.
Thus did work on the forests and irrigation system continue. For the forests, there were painful lessons of fire and erosion collapse of hills, but much was learned, while for irrigation lessons from up the hills were applied, strengthening the channels into canals and cisterns with brick and stone and the roots of bushes and trees specifically planted in key locations. When the rains came in the spring, they were carefully guided and collected, to be slowly released to the farms further down the hills over the hot summer months. Such delicate control required a wise, firm guiding hand from the Big Man, but it kept erosion down and the farms productive even when the summer rains were poor or even failed.
And then, one year, the spring rains and floods were weak. And then the next spring they failed entirely. And then they failed again next spring.
The river was a sluggish brown trickle winding its way through the muddy remains of its former bed, and the fields that were normally replenished by the spring floods were fallow, the soil depleted and salty. Wells were muddy holes, and people were suffering from all manner of afflictions as rations were cut again and again, leaving them on the edge of starvation, and drinking water they would normally refuse because it was foul but now sipped in disgust out of desperation. The wailing of mothers losing young children or pregnancies was almost constant in the minds of all. The hill farms were slightly better off than the valleys, but were still barely functional, and the people there were even hungrier as they desperately tended to the woods out of the well founded terror that if they didn't keep the forest floor clear of dead leaves and wood the next fire to roll through would not just be bad but apocalyptic.
The traders were in a slightly better position, if only because their animals could be taken to better pastures and they could trade with people who had food, but the news was that it was bad everywhere and getting worse, and people who had things worth moving about were getting smaller in number. Stores were almost depleted, and if they couldn't get even a little rain soon, constant hunger and the deaths of the very young and very old would transform into mass starvation of those in the prime of their life.
It was like the world was dying, and everyone was looking for someone to blame.
What had they done to anger the spirits so? The people wracked their memories for what transgression they had committed to so offend the river and sky, and they could conceive of nothing they had done. The lowlanders though... they could have conceivably have angered the spirits with their habits, and were collectively punishing the world for not dealing with them. But what could be done when they were so far away?
The amount of food in the stores was tallied, and at current rationing they could not make it through another full year if the rains failed next year, but they had just enough to risk on a gamble. The distant settlement that spoke with the spirits... they had just enough to outfit an expedition to bring an offering there and maybe, just maybe get the intercession they needed to bring back the rains. They could also conceivably take that food and use it to feed the men and animals needed to send all of the warriors out to the lowlands to punish the wicked with axe and fire. Closer to home, there was also the rumour that the village by the sea was still full due to the fact that the fish were not affected by a drought on land. In terms of securing supplies, striking them to take their things struck people as wrong, but they were also hungry and desperate... although some objected to the plan not on morality but on the fact that the fishers were probably still well-fed and not suffering from various illnesses.
Then there were those who felt that the gamble of an expedition was foolish, that they needed to conserve what they had and hope that the drought could simply be endured. However, even those who suggested staying home didn't think they should be idle in their attempts to appease the spirits, although the suggestion of some was... dark, to say the least.
There was an argument put forth that the people had sinned, in that the world had given them so much and that which they had given back to the spirits had been grossly inadequate. They had been given land and rains and all the good things in life, and they only gave back a pittance of what the world gave them. Not food grown or animals raised or beer brewed, but the truly important things in life: each other. Some proposed that the spirits demanded a greater sacrifice of the people for their bounties. Also, the sacrificed could go to the beyond with the fervent desire to beg those that dwelt beyond for forgiveness.
Skilled in administration, the Big Man couldn't help but note that the ones speaking the strongest for the option - even when they even proposed themselves as the sacrifice - were the grain counting sort of farmers. The deliberate murder of a significant portion of their population, especially those already weakened by the drought, would probably help them extend out their reserves further. Of course, for those who the idea caught like a spark among dry grass, the warriors also suggested that perhaps others could make suitable sacrifices. Since the warriors would often hunt as part of honing their skills, wiping out any remaining competition for what little game remained would also have an effect on food supplies.
There were, of course, also discussions about just killing until the spirits had their fill of blood and the rains returned.
And yet, surprisingly, there were also voices who said that not only should they not go out killing their neighbours, but maybe they should also not turn them away while they still had food. Obviously they couldn't give much, but if the spirits were offended by human greed then refusing to give charitably wasn't going to help!
Expedition
[] Spirit talkers
[] Lowlands
[] Fishing village
[] Stay home
Human sacrifice
[] None!
[] From within
[] From without
[] Until the spirits are satisfied!
Neighbours
[] Drive off
[] Ignore
[] Help as best as can (incompatible with attacking them for human sacrifices)
Caretakers of the Land -> Gardeners of the Land
The people feel a deep connection to the land they live upon and are willing to go to extra effort to care for it and to fight for it, but are deeply distressed by deliberately disruptive activities that aren't for the long term good of the land, or the military loss of territory
Pros: Bonuses to all actions relating to land management, bonuses when fighting on own terrain
Cons: Additional strife caused by deliberate environmental disruption unless it is for the long term betterment of the land, or loss of territory to others
Early Pre-Kingdom -> Pre-Kingdom
Centralization of powers around a small group and a particular super-chief is now relatively widespread, but the culture of central organization remains
Pros: Access to additional infrastructure projects, bonus to collective action
Cons: Certain actions like new settlement development do not happen organically, but require direct intervention
New Legacy Bonus!
+1 Centralization Tolerance
AN: You guys picked so bloody well in preparation for the dice gods to show their displeasure. Aside from getting an early warning about the lowlanders, the combo also meant that you continued your infrastructure projects and have an Admin chief in charge right when your first major drought hits.
