One Hundred Thousand Years Ago Or So...

Otro's skill spread vicariously through Choon, his talented apprentice. While Choon wasn't ready to take on his own apprentice, strictly speaking, he was more than welcome to aid the curious should they ask him specific stone-working questions. Because of this, Otro's handiwork and gathered skill became the standard against which all other stone tools were judged.

However, Otro became curious as to a different way to attack from a distance, in an effort to level the playing field against the Lost Boys. Sure, the throwing axes worked, but could something work better? Just as accurate and deadly as a spear thrown from a Lost Boy's Atlatl?

Otro wished to extend the length of a throwing arm, and devised a simple hide pouch loaded with a round, dense projectile. It had a strap on one end and a loop on the other (the finger of the thrower goes through the loop and is released at the best time). The sling would be loaded and whirled around the wielder's head, then the "bullet" would be released and launched quite a distance, with a mean of 400 meters provided the proper trajectory. Given the greater strength of the neanderthals, larger stones on average could be used, between 100-500 grams. Otro also realized the sling could be made even more powerful if attached to a wooden shaft, and when the outside of the "arm" reached the proper speed, the sling would release automatically. This way, the already prodigious distance the object would be lengthened by further extending the leverage of the human arm than a simple hand-sling. Ammo for this weapon was literally found everywhere around the user. Better yet, the hand-axes Otro made could be loaded into the sling as well.

The device spread like wildfire among the plains tribes, and when proper skill had been developed, it became the weapon of choice in hunting game and combatting Lost Boys at a distance.

 

The years were good for Animagus, his wives and especially for Destiny. She was growing up into a fine and healthy toddler. (On the other hand, a teenager. I am not sure of what for time-frame you have in mind)

Nevertheless, not all was well in the sanctuary around the sacred mountain. Animagus suspicions flared up again, when he had seen how the ego of Sul increasingly had grown. Same thing he could say of his gang of pseudo-Lost Boys.

His gut feeling tells him that Sul is hunger for power. Knowing that this could be dangerous to their existence, he went to Otro to discuss without the knowledge of Sul. Taking Destiny with him.

In the tent of Otro, he told him everything that was on his mind about the danger that could be forming in their midst.

 

Otro was glad to see Animagus with his young daughter, now officially named Destiny after having become a person. The young girl's eyes studied everything around her with an innate curiosity, but still possessed the feral nature of Animagus' gaze.

Animagus relayed his concerns to Otro, detailing Sul's increasingly paranoid behavior and decreasing social presence outside of his Lost Boys.

He has quite the following, Sul. While I appreciate the contributions he has made to our current survival, I do agree that his behavior has changed over the time we've known him.

Should he assume power by force, rather than by gaining our trust, as you have - our people may indeed abandon him. I do not know how the Lost Boys will reckon his status as leader of his own war band of our people, if he will be spared or killed. In his current state of mind, it may be dangerous to confront him on such a matter. He also has the benefit of a Lost Boy's mind, and he knows their ways far better than any of us do.

I find it strange, as he had left them due to wanting the freedom to live his life. It would seem old habits die hard, Animagus. This is what he knows, for now - perhaps he may learn it is not the only way.

Bear in mind he would not only need to challenge you for leadership, but all who follow you. There is no good aftermath of such infighting. We are better united than spread so thin...


Otro had a startling realization at this, saying;

Oh, no. That's what they're doing, Animagus - The lost boys retreat in all directions to whittle us down to nothing as we give chase. Then, they will take the Thunderbolt. We're still fighting on their terms - Sul has also let it be known that what we perceive as victory over our enemy is all a part of their plan; it's a feint, as he said during our meeting with Broken Feather.

Our people don't have the knowledge to fight such a foe in a way that allows us to win, but I've never been one to sacrifice some of our own to prevent wholesale slaughter. If our gods do not ask it of us, then what right does a man have to expect it? I must say that these Thunderbolt tools are powerful, but we're cursed to carry them...

...I will go on a vision quest to gain the answers I seek. I will return in a week.

 

...I will go on a vision quest to gain the answers I seek. I will return in a week.

Okay. Otro is going on a Vision Quest. He must certainly admit that the secret rituals of the shamans are strange and discomforting to him. Actually all the secret rituals. But. Nevertheless, he also knew that Otro was wise and strong in spirit. Everything is going to be okay.

Destiny followed the whole conversation between her father and Otro carefully. (Well, as far as she could) She did not know what everything meant, but she thought it was interesting.

Do you need some protection? Two of my best blood brothers can stay here with you.

 

Do you need some protection? Two of my best blood brothers can stay here with you.

No, my friend. I must be alone to speak with the ancestors.

Otro bid farewell to the dogman and made preparations for fasting and prayer, attempting to unlock inspiration from the depths of the underworld, the subconscious mind, which remains a powerful and mysterious monster even today.

Despite his stated need for solitude and privacy, Rifa watched over the lame shaman during his vision quest, tracking him to a secluded mountain top and guarding over him in secret. She didn't fear ghosts or sorcery, or any living thing, but she feared losing Otro.

It was a matter of no small discussion among the wives that the shaman could be so brilliant and perceptive with numbers and devices, and yet so stupid and blind when it came to seeing Rifa's obvious affection and devotion to him. But for both of them their lives were not their own, but belonged to the tribes who had fallen under their protection.

 

Several days passed, uneventful, but still trying in their nature. Rifa watched Otro, for 6 days and 5 nights. He only ate sparingly after the sun had gone down, but never slept. He sat in quiet reflection, nearly motionless, and at the modern equivalent of midnight on the night before he would return, he began chewing on mushrooms, and took out the mammoth totem inspired by the events that ultimately resulted in his current predicament. He began to feel drawn into the eyes of the totem, as reality warped and twisted around him.

The combination of sleep-deprived delirium and psilocybes was a potent combination, but it's exactly what Hassa had advised Otro to do should he require such a quest.

As Otro saw it, he was lifted into the very heavens and landed on an alien, yet familiar lush landscape. His leg was not hindered, and he could move freely without the use of his spear. He took in the surroundings, but suddenly noticed a presence behind him;
It's good to see you again, Leftie.

Master...!

You've come quite far. Why do you doubt your position? You have your own apprentice, and your handiwork has inspired thousands of stoneworkers.

There seems to be no end to our running, Master. Our foe is so mighty, all the gods can do is slow them down to let us get just a bit further away. I would offer the Thunderbolt to them if I felt it would justify the lives already lost, but it doesn't.

The man in charge of the gumbo stand, from the festival. Do you remember him?

Yes, Master. Wait, is he...?

Nago. He directs the army you've been running from as though he himself is a god. The Lost Boys fall on his every whim, sometimes literally falling - dead. But you must bear in mind that Nago is the one who actually wants the Thunderbolt. The Lost Boys simply want to be regarded as men according to their people's rules.

...That may explain Sul's disillusionment with his people, and his regression into the same type of society he fled. Master, now that you've told me, what is it I can do?

I can't tell you that. However, I'm not the last to speak with you here. Tell my granddaughter goodbye for me...and goodbye to you, Leftie.

Hassa seemed to evaporate into the air around Otro, when a blinding flash
suddenly appeared and subsided where Hassa had stood. This thing, whatever it was, didn't have a form conducive to being accurately described.

I see my gift has served you well. Grunde and I have kept a close watch on you - your fate is already sealed. Though we're so far apart, we still work towards a common goal. We're made of the same stuff, after all.

My people say you're mad with grief, Mighty Clundir.

What you describe as madness is merely a group of processes attaining balance on your world. The rains fall and nourish the plains and forests, as well as the creatures within them. The fire falling from the sky, the storms, the cool breeze you feel - these are the only way I can be a part of your and Grunde's life. Certainly things are destroyed, torn down...but life resumes and thrives in its wake. If you've ever seen any of Grunde's mountains spit fire, surely you know of the damage it can cause. But have you ever stayed to see the plants flourish in the black soil it releases? It's a cycle designed to benefit new growth and sustenance of existing life.

Your people, they seem to "thrive" in moderation. Your enemies, they seek drastic expansion and control. Thousands of generations after you, they will control this world - But not before you win this war and survive. Sul, the Lost Boy, is a new type of man. His kind will flourish and aid in uniting the blood of all people on the surface of Grunde.

How can I do this?

Why would the Lost Boys prevent you from bringing the Thunderbolt to Nago? You will be watched; there are eyes everywhere. However, they're smart enough to let you do the work.

This is where you remember what your Master has said - Nago is a man who presents himself as more than a man. His charisma and status aid in the illusion. However, he can be stopped. Just like any other man can be "stopped." Strip a man of what power he has, and those who follow him will take care of the rest. You can figure that part out yourself - there's an aspect of free will that's impinged upon if I tell you how to think. What I've already revealed were simple connections of things you already know.

Interesting, O Clundir.

Otro suddenly felt a quaking sensation, as if someone had a hold of him and was trying to wake him up.

Ah...it seems someone cares very deeply for you. I'll send you back to her. Mind my words, Fire Beard.

As had actually happened, Otro passed out and Rifa rushed to his aid. His breathing was slow and regular, and he had an audible heartbeat, but he was impossible to rouse, at all. She tried desperately for hours, attempting to wake up the last person she ever wanted to lose.

Otro came to lying supine, and when he opened his eyes, he found them locked with Rifa's.

What...Rifa?

I'm sorry, I know you said you had to go alone. But your leg - you can't fight things off like you used to, and the Lost Boys are everywhere.

When I saw you pass out, I thought that was it! It's nearly dawn, I've been trying to get you to open your eyes since you dropped the totem. Otro, if you didn't come back...

Tears? No, Otro had never seen the mighty Rifa cry. Not even before that fateful hunt. It wasn't a common sadness in her eyes. Otro began to understand why she had followed him in the first place.

I didn't mean to worry you, Rifa, though I recall hearing stories of other shamans never returning from their visions...Hassa wanted me to say, "goodbye." We can go back, now. I'll tell you what I've seen...

As Otro and Rifa took the day-long journey back to the amassed camp of all of the plains tribes, Otro went into detail on what had been shown to him on his quest.

When they both returned to the many tribes present, Otro revealed his plan.

 

Otro spoke briefly with Broken Feather to apprise him of the vision, and to explain his outwardly suicidal wish to dive into Imperial hands. Afterwards, Otro spoke with all of the tribal chieftains and shamans, who had their greatest warriors with them.

Only those tied to the Thunderbolt should go; I do not seek to risk the lives of anyone else. We who hold this gift must leave the illusion of safety this gathering of tribes represents. If we say and fight, we'll be scattered and easily crushed. If we run and hide, we'll be tracked, surrounded, and then destroyed. So long as we stay in your company, all of your people are in great danger. I do not wish to sacrifice any of you to placate the Lost Boys in our offering of the Thunderbolt; there is no honor in that. More will live should we leave your company.

We must go deep into the territory of the Empire, to respect those who's lives were lost, and to protect those who are still alive. As mighty as these tools I've made are, they are not worth more lives than the value of those who carry them.

These ten summers that have passed have been kind to us, if not lean. Our numbers haven't increased so much as they've aged - if this continues, we'll die before a new generation is born.

Those who've carried the burden of The Thunderbolt, I would have stand with me. I call out to the young god, who guided us to The Light of the Plains, to watch over and protect us. He too carries the Thunderbolt. I do not know the ways of the gods, but I am certain by now he knows ours...I simply hope we still fall in his favor. I do not fear immediate action from the Lost Boys, but the moon is full tonight - and I feel we must leave before the third moon.

Otro, along with the Thunderbolt Warriors, began preparing for the long trek to occur within the next 84 days. Senku was alerted to his duty as a Ferryman. He knew well the way of the sea, and a great concerted effort was undertaken to construct a boat large enough for the braves within it.

Approaching Sul, Otro said;

You are aware only those closely tied with the Thunderbolt should leave, so no one else is risked. What do you wish to do, Sul?

 

You can say what you want. But. Say goodbye to your loved ones is actually hard and quite heartbreaking for everyone. No one wants to experience anything like this ever, but this happens to Animagus. He has had to say goodbye to his wives, his beautiful, adorable little kid Destiny and all whom he counts as his family.

Destiny began to cry when she was lifted by her father. It almost broke Animagus heart, but he has to go. Because if they (The owners of the Thunderbolt artifacts and co.) remained in this holy sanctuary, it will endanger them all.

Do not cry. I will return again as quickly as possible. Daddy has to do this to protect them all. Mom and all the blood brothers will watch over you. Be good.

Then he gave Destiny to her mother. Who also wept with grief. The blood brothers watched over Destiny 24 for hours per day.

Take care.

After this heart-rending farewell, went Animagus see whether the others needed help before their departure. He also kept an eye on Sul, who he still did not trust completely.

 

Now Senko would have preferred a year and a tribe of fellow shipwrights for his task of building an oceangoing transport, but three months and the authority of the lord of ten thousand spears would have to do.

He had built for himself a small catamaran from local woods, but for the journey they would need a much larger craft.

The three months were exausting for Senko, but as the ship grew into shape he seemed to grow in mana and stature with it.

The finished product was a triangular platform resting on twin, ten-man canoes, with dorsal fin keels and a large, crab-claw sail. There was a small sheltered nook in the prow and the rest was open deck and stowage.

Although Senko assures the party that the ship can cover hundreds of miles a day, it is going to be a long, lurching, heaving, dry-wretching journey for many of the plainsmen. There is room for thirty at a stretch or twenty for maximum crew efficiency - ten oarsmen per hull, although Senko could pilot it alone in a good wind.

Unlike today's mariners, it was considered bad luck among Senko's people to name a ship. He was the ship, it was a part of his body, and would remain so in his thoughts. Therefore, if it had a name at all, then the ship was called Myself.

 

After he had helped many people with a problem, he went to the Senko’s boat to inspect it. He actually never has had seen a boat. So. He is very curious about it. His trusted companions followed him. It was all strange, woody and big. At a closer look, he saw it had room for thirty plainsmen.

Great job, Senko. Looks great. How long will it take before we are in the land of our enemies?

 

Rifa trained relentlessly to prepare for what she assumed would be her last fight.

What warrior parties had returned to rest from the organized Lost Boy hunt, Rifa utilized to hone her skill, using sticks as opposed to her Thunderbolt daggers. There were injuries, for sure - but none so great as to hinder any one so afflicted.

Her days until the departure of the Unified Tribe were filled with as much sparring as she could stand, punctuated by hunting and eating when necessary.

She knew from what Otro said of his vision that he had been speaking to himself the whole time. As he listened to his heart, she listened to hers;

And it told her that now, more than ever, she must live and fight as though she was dying.

 

You are aware only those closely tied with the Thunderbolt should leave, so no one else is risked. What do you wish to do, Sul?

For weeks, Sul had been training young neanderthal warriors in the ways of The Lost Boys. He had set up a microcosm of the Empire in the middle of the Plains Tribes, one in which he was in command, and began spiraling downward into an aggressive psychosis. However, in this question, he saw an opportunity to tear down the social structure that inspired in him the will to leave. He remained apprehensive and indeed paranoid of those around him, but it waned appreciably upon his having heard Otro's question.

...I will travel with you to the heart of the Empire.

Sul himself was unsure of this particular plan's success rate, mainly due to Otro having not explained the final portion - i.e. what will be done with Nago, and how it will actually happen. From what he knew, Otro's plan would work rather well up until Nago became involved;

Certainly, the Lost Boys would allow the Thunderbolt to literally walk to their leader. No sense wasting energy in taking the meteorite fragments by force when your enemy is doing the leg-work for you.

So long as you're true to yourself, you've made the right choice.

There was about a fortnight left before the proposed journey, and in that time great strides of progress had been made. The boat was nearly finished, in no small part due to the dozens of people constructing it.

Great job, Senko. Looks great. How long will it take before we are in the land of our enemies?

Senko looked the prodigious paleolithic vessel over and after gauging the efficiency of those working on it, said;

At this rate, and if we leave just as the boat is finished - two days.

End of Chapter.

 

Now Maharshinaga, called Nago, general of the imperial forces, had not been idle over the years. He knew the plains tribes would return to this valley in one more year, or twelve years after that. One generation or ten, they would follow the nutrients downriver with the herds and the plantlife and the birds and the turtles. They would follow the food. He had ambushes and mantraps laid throughout the valleys and a teaming civilisation of disgruntled hunters and captured wives spread through this confluence of three continents, all of whom deferred to him with religious awe.

He certainly wasn't planning to return to the empire. And a good many middle aged 'lost boys' with captured and not-so-captured middle-aged wives were of the same mind. There were always the career officers and the religious zealots coming through the ranks, though. The older fighters tended to send those ones to the frontier and usually the former more than the latter, so the army was loyal to him as much as to the old land. Nago's wife was fat, toothless and extremely flatulent, and he loved her dearly, not to mention all the other wives. There were always a few dozen children and servants underfoot these days, as well, running around and running the castle respectively.

Oh yes, the castle. It was a cunning collection of cross-beams and sculped river-clay, based loosely on an ancient technique called the Termite Mound which could house entire tribes against large predators, except in this case it was shaped by Nago's unlimited resources and deeply ingrained delusions of grandeur. Inside it was what we might call a cosy, four-bedroom townhouse in the mediterranean style but with added nooks and crannies and unexpected staircases, but from the outside it appeared to be a giant serpent, coiled and poised to strike, thirty feet in the air. When Nago's beloved, plump wife made tea, the window-eyes of the snake glowed red, and smoke hissed from it's open maw.


The new recruits were always suitably impressed, of course, to say nothing of the natives. Many went mad with terror, it really was very amusing. . As a matter of hygeine, there was a moat of perpetual fire, fueled by whale oil, and a crocodile pit under the trapdoor in front of the dais on the ground floor. Nago sits there most days, from eleven to five or so, with his best python-skull hat and snakeskin cape, holding court. At the gate of the castle is a sign which reads, in the ancient tongue of the plateau empire, "The Witchdoctor Is In."

 

Start of new chapter
The massive boat had been completed. A day of rest and reflection was recommended by Otro, who had thought last minute of a change of route upon disembarking from the neolithic war-ship.

We would be best inclined to trace our steps back into the fertile valley of the Festival. Next year it will begin again - at the very least, food will be easy to find there.

Otro also had a feeling it might be easier to start the search for Nago on essentially neutral ground; neutral in that so many tribes met there, not to say someone didn't already "own" it.

What the braves of the Unified Tribe had learned from seafaring peoples like Senko would surely benefit them on their journey across the Mediterranean. Fishing is a skill not to be sneezed at, especially when one is to spend any extended periods on the sea.

What Senko had revealed to the tribe just a few days before the voyage was to take place, however, was even more important. There was room for some water among the passengers, but they would have to gather the rest of what liquid they needed over the time spent "sailing" from either rain, or fishing - Senko grimly told of when he had been stranded at sea for weeks after having been thrown off course by a freak squall, drinking the spinal fluid of what fish he caught to keep hydrated.

He said it's not his preferred drink, but that it tastes better than dying of thirst when you're sitting on a huge supply of mockingly undrinkable water.

He knew of larger, deadlier fish than most of his Unified Tribe brethren, as well. He had the misfortune of resembling a seal while in the same waters as hungry great white sharks, thanks to the stout shape of his canoe. It was bumped quite violently from beneath, and he had thought more than once he would end up in the ocean with the sharks. His boat was designed to prevent such a thing with its low center of gravity, however, and when he got back to shore he had several large teeth in his hull to corroborate the story - which he now wears on a necklace he made.

His people also found gigantic, hand-sized teeth embedded in rocks on the coast and sometimes in the water near the shore, and dreaded encountering the owners of such teeth in the water. This lead to Senko's people fearing and revering what they assumed was a terrible god of the sea, the king of all sharks, leaving the largest and healthiest of their take from the ocean's bounty for their unseen deity. Thankfully for Senko's tribe, and indeed all seafaring peoples, the Carcharodon megalodon had already been extinct for over one million years. The lack of encounters with this long-dead super-predator only reinforced the assumed productivity of what offerings were given.

The day of the journey had begun. It would be a day's travel to the coast, and at least a week on the sea if the currents favored the voyage.

Senko awoke and took out a massive, hand-sized tooth and prayed to its owner that the tribe would not encounter it during their travels on the sea.

 

The journey to the coast was silent, save for the regular, synchronized breaths and footsteps of those carrying the boat. It was decided that the warriors would leave the plains at daybreak, and not stop until the coast was met, at dusk. Then, once all were in the boat, it was time to rest.

This sea is rather predictable. There is a great and diverse population of life within it. The only times I must caution you of are during storms, or when you see the water-dogs scatter.

A storm at sea is a terrible thing. The water seems torn as to whether it will keep you or throw you away. This boat is strong, so all we must do is protect ourselves from all that comes at us from above the sea and keep our course.

When the sea-dogs scatter, there are terrible fish about. My people call these fish the White Death. They can be five times as long as Pyot is tall, with a huge mouth full of teeth just as sharp as Rifa's daggers. We must remain still or we'll make ourselves resemble their food. Many of them come here, and they're known to go mad with fresh blood in the water.

Senko took out the tooth he prayed to when he awoke, saying;

The carrier of this tooth is much, much larger than the fish I have warned you of - possibly two or three times larger. None of my people have seen this fish, but we've all found its teeth. This lord of the sea is what my people call Deva Dento [lit. God of Teeth]. Of all we catch, I suggest we donate the largest or strongest of it to the owner of teeth like these. I fear if we do not, it will appear and end this journey before it has begun.

And so, the tribe set out to the south. After nightfall, they stopped to fish by dropping a smallish boulder bound by hand-woven hide into the water.

 

Late at night, they began to fish with a smallish boulder bound by hand-woven. Luckily, it was strong enough to catch larger fish. The waves were calm and the rhythm puts those who were tired at ease. Because he was never ON the sea, Animagus was interested in the life on and under water. Even though he was a bit seasick. But. He hid this well from the others.

Senko. What for kind of creatures than the White Death are there as well?

[OOC] Sorry that it took so long to post here. [/OOC]

 

There are the sea-dogs,[OOC]seals[/OOC] that I've mentioned. They bark and play much like Fang's pups do, but their limbs aren't meant for travelling on land.

There are many turtles that swim this sea. The turtles are quite large, and are a great source of meat.

Water Children [OOC]dolphins and porpoises[/OOC] live here. There are the larger ones with elongated faces and the shorter ones with rounded bodies. They play much more energetically than the sea-dogs, performing flips after launching from the water, and can be heard laughing when their faces are above the surface. The large ones are the only thing in the water that can kill the White Death, and while in groups they'll kill as many as they can find. My people tell tales of the water children rescuing seafarers like myself who've gotten lost at sea, but only if they see fit. They're known to kill us, too, if they feel threatened - but more often than not, they're up for some sort of game. They're edible, but they're very smart. If we try to catch them, they're not likely to help us should we need it.

There are many fish here, some that I'm more accustomed to seeing in the ocean east of the Lost Boys' empire, such as the Whip-Tail. They have spots and are only dangerous when startled, as they have a poisoned barb at the base of their tails. If you're in the water when you're stung, you're likely to drown. They're mainly found by the coast, hiding in the sand.

One creature that's of no concern to us is the Swimming Egg. Other creatures like it can give a painful sting, but this one doesn't normally hurt at all. You'll know when you see one, they look just like the inside of giant eggs with tentacles dangling below them. They're a strange animal, but they're easy to catch and there are a lot of them - so if we can't find heartier fare in this sea there's plenty of those things.

The moon hung low in the sky. It was almost full, making the warriors and the sea around them easy to observe.

Just after Senko had finished telling of the more notable creatures inhabiting this body of water, some bottle-nose dolphins began leaping from the sea and jumping near the boat, clicking and chattering the entire time.

Ah. They've got this patch of sea - we should move on to a different spot. They'll take the fish right from our hooks if we don't.

The anchor was drawn back on board and the warriors took the boat to a less crowded spot.

 

Now, Senko smiled indulgently at the seasickness and ignorance of the others. For ten years he had been the ignorant one, learning about life on the steppes like a slow child.

It was good to be back in his element. When the sun rose and the sandy ocean floor was visible through the clear water, he demonstrated his prowess. Of course, he had been captaining their catamaran masterfully, and the braves were already impressed by these strange and useful skills, but his affinity with the sea went much deeper.

He sat and stared at the ocean skin for several minutes, calming himself and breathing oxygen deep into his tissues. Then, without a ripple, he sank down with empty lungs to the sandy floor. The others could see him from the deck of the ship and it was as though he strolled through a grassy meadow, he was so at home there. His eyes had long ago adapted to clear vision under the saltwater and he strolled along without air for many minutes at a time, using his spear to secure a feast for all the crew every day, weather permitting.

When he wasn't walking on the ocean floor in slow motion, he swam dolphin-style, like an otter, and moved at a frightening speed under the waves, sometimes even overtaking prey and spearing them on the fly, or on the swim, as it were. His nickname, the Shark, had been earned honestly indeed.

 

The uncanny affinity with the sea of Senko baffled everyone on deck once more. Who have thought that a mere mortal can house that much strength? (Is this correct or too much) The water was very clear, so everyone could see him walk over the ocean floor and swim as one of those creatures of the sea.

The fishes of this part of the ocean were big and healthy. Now that the bottlenose dolphins, (or any other sea creatures) did not disturb them it did not took long for the hand-woven hide into the water was full.

[OOC] Sorry that it took so long for me to post. I had a lot of things going on in my life. [/OOC]

 

Start of New Chapter;

It had been a long time on the sea. About two weeks after setting out on the Mediterranean, the Thunderbolt Warriors landed on northern Africa, salty and burned. Never had the Neanderthals experienced such sensitive and pink skin.

Rifa remarked, Our skin looks like Otro's beard! which sparked some laughing, cut short by the cracking of sun damaged faces.

We've arrived. The land has changed quite a bit in the amount of time we've not seen it, but it seems we can hit the Festival grounds if we head south-east from here. Though, the redder among us may want to let our burning skin heal. We should cover ourselves in mud before we start.

There weren't any complaints, but there were some snickers from the more burn-proof, such as Keel-sol, Sul and Senko.

You guys should try growing more hair like me and my gran. Then, your skin won't bubble up as much!

We'll have to see how that works after our burns heal. Until then, I'm happy wearing mud.

After a liberal application of cooling liquid earth, the group set off to the fertile valley. Sooner than was expected, they found the impact crater of the Thunderbolt Iron, and the braves clutched their weapons, each with the impression that their tools resonated with where metal landed. Not only that, but the lives lost during impact elicited a unified mourning in those present, and a gratefulness in allowing their sacrifice to give the Thunderbolt.

They travelled on until reaching a familiar valley. Completely grown over - the festival hadn't occurred in the time since the impact, as the participants generally felt the place was cursed. A natural feeling, if hundreds from different cultures lost their lives when they all went to the same party/trade hub.

There were still signs of human presence from a decade ago - some stone tools, pieces of bone, all scattered about. Most were either buried over time, or removed by scavengers shortly after the catastrophe.

So strange how people will react to a disaster, when nature goes about its business as usual.

A day of walking had passed, but visibility was still good somewhat later in the day. They would walk on until the half-moon had risen, and set up camp then to make better time.

Otro didn't really know where he was headed, so much as he was planning for the lost boys to bring them all to Naga.