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Fantasy Culture Game; The Update Thread
Topic Started: Oct 17 2013, 01:54 PM (759 Views)
Zinnorokkrah
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http://zinnorokkrah.deviantart.com/art/Wolrd-Map-Kthonera-364152396

The world is changing. The balance of power is shifting, the humans of Kthonera are gaining ground once again, the Orcish peoples are stirring, and the elves prepare once again for war. Even the Giants and Ogres are beginning to get ready to make changes in the world.

This game will be played by you using creative writing posts to describe how you've reacted to the world changing around you. I'll act as GM for the game, playing as the NPC nations, and occasionally throwing certain events your way. If you have an important question, or a serious disagreement with one of my decisions, please send me a PM. Below, I'm setting the stage for the game. Prepare your first posts based on this scenario.

*****

c.518 PE
In Aidrac, Ratherna and Borias are at war again, while Ratherna is at war with itself, the Jarls tearing the nation apart when the High King died without naming an heir. There are three sides in the war- a coalition of Jarls trying to pull the country together, a warlord wanting the abolish the traditional method of electing the new High King and establish a dynasty, and a cleric who wishes to become a Priest-King; declaring that the time has come for the gods to rule in Ratherna. The League of Latis is shuddering on the edge of a precipice, the clerics resenting the authority that the lower noblemen are developing. The League of Vespera prepares for war, encouraging the lower nobles of Latis to throw off the yoke of the religious leaders. In the far south, the Suthar gather in the shadow of the Thundering Mountains for the first time in half a millennium, contemplating for the first time since the great disaster long ago the idea of unity, and of restoring their ancient civilization in the fertile volcanic deserts of the Deadlands.

In Kthonera, tensions are rising between the Kvophul, the Quvijal, and the Nylaansef. While in Kvoluhan itself, the noble houses are again in conflict, with some of the lesser houses resenting the authority of the ancient bloodlines, and the South considering succeeding from the North due to the north being a hub of wealth and power, and the South being a harsh desert with few luxuries. The people who would become the Federation are fighting for their freedom from the rule of the Archon of Hyrakia, while Hyrakia fights to regain its southern territories from Priest-King Amral and the Covenant. The Federation is offering a pact to avoid logging all across their northern borders in return for the aid of the Sylnquel, the Wild Elves, but no word has been given regarding any sort of decision. The Orcish peoples stir, the current leaders remembering the glorious incursions that terrorized the realms of men and elves some twenty years ago in the days of their grandfathers and fathers, and wish for those to come again. In the southern mountains, word has come to the Drakosha that the Goblin tribes are stirring, and that a kind of dragon different than the ones they worship may be backing them...

What will you, the leaders of this world, do next?

Player Cultures
Hobgoblins- Komodo
Mountain Orcs- Dial
Jeray- Wild Elves [Sylnquel]
Lamna- Suthar
Holbernoid- Drakosha
Olympian- Tundra Elves [Moqsef]
Nano- Plains Ogres
Archipithecus- Dark Elves [Kvophul]
Watcher- League of Latis

NPC Cultures
Hyrakia
The Federation
The Covenant
Ratherna
Borias
Cyram
Sarkerna
Quvija
Nylaanar
League of Vespera
Goblin Tribes
Tundra Giants
Edited by Zinnorokkrah, Oct 19 2013, 12:35 PM.
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TAXESbutNano
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I'm going back to basics.
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An ogre, Crushing Hand, strides towards a hobgoblin settlement. A group of spearmen come out to meet him, and he lays his massive club upon the ground, a gesture of peace. Surprised, the hobgoblins talk amongst each other, before one leaves and goes to the village. The other hobgoblins decide to lay down their weapons, and the ogre continues to keep his own weapon on the floor.

Some minutes later, another hobgoblin comes out, dressed in ornamental clothing. It shows Crushing Hand a tablet coated in clay, and gives him a large stick to write with. There is already Ogrish writing inscribed upon it, and the massive humanoid grins in a curious, Ogrish way. And, after writing, he hands the tablet back to the hobgoblin. And the hobgoblin turns back to the soldiers, and reads it.

"The ogre says, 'I am the mighty Guur'Kghak, Crushing Hand, and I come in search of weaponry. I know of your lust for fine metal blades, and I lust for leadership of a clan. If I were to gain leadership of a clan, I would surely be able to convince the elves to teach you their arts. Look, I lay down my club.'"

The ogres smiles in that Ogrish way again, and waits for an answer.
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lamna
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"Grey." Farzana looks down from the mountain of ash at the encampment, where for the first time in centuries. Her companion furrows her brow. "A grey land of grey people in grey clothes living grey lives. We shouldn't live like this Hester! Once all feared and respected us and now we can barely breath without our masks and veils."

"That's why we're here, to find a new path, that's why the nobles have gathered to decided what to do next."

"The nobles have gathered to sing songs of how lovely their ancestors gardens were, while ash lacerates the commoner's lungs. I can't stand it, people who think they are owed allegiance because of their bloodline. The strong should rule, not those old men!"

"Farzana don't you think it's too soon, shouldn't we hear what they have to say before we make any judgements?"

"You swore to follow me didn't you?" Farzana said, tears welling up in her eyes "Until the end of my days, my Lady." "Then I can't lose. I can't watch any more of our people die needlessly. The age of New Suthar begins today, as does my reign." Hester pulls down her veil and pulls out a trumpet and plays three blasts, signalling that their small band of followers in the camp should strike.

Farzana draws her sword and takes her shield off her back. "Are you sure you want to risk yourself in the fighting?" Farzana grins "I aim to be the supreme ruler... and to reach that goal, I have a policy of my own. It is to fight my own battles. That's the difference between myself and those noblemen down there. That's also the reason why people follow me."

Hester pulls the sheath off her spearhead and grins back at her friend as the two lope down the mountain towards the slaughter.
Edited by lamna, Oct 19 2013, 07:12 PM.
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34 MYH, 4 tonne dinosaur.
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Holben
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Gentle billows of smoke curled up into the crisp air of a cloudless afternoon in the mountain foothills. The sun sat halfway up the sky, its light cold and washing over the rocks and dust, evoking a sombre atmosphere over the gathering below. The four fires were placed at the corners of an outstretched hide, upon which lay a still body. In the distance, a small shape took off from the mountain crags and began to wheel overhead.

So'reso stood at the front of the crowd, from which a quiet, low hum was drifting upwards and outwards. Flanking him were two elderly women, their cheeks marked with spirals and their ornate masks pulled up to reveal their faces. Their cloaks were brightly coloured, with interlocking squares woven into the pattern. One held a staff tipped with a tooth the size of a hand, and the other held a box inlaid with bone and glass beads. So'reso himself leant on a war-axe, dressed in his breastplate and bracers. Upon the bronze were the images of coiling dragons and serpents, packed densely together upon the metal, and a fiery sun sat at the very centre of his plate. His cloak had more subdued, but still notable, colouring and decoration.

He turned slightly to face the old woman with the staff. "Firetongue Mi'sofa, will you miss my father?"

She nodded without looking away from the bier. "He was an able ruler, as I am sure you will be also, young chief-to-be."

"Nothing changed under his rule. We are in the same place as when he started. History will not remember his name."

"Better that nothing changes than that it changes for the worse, young man. I know you have great plans for the Drakosha, but you must see more than the big picture. The tapestry is composed of threads, and a single thread forgotten will break the pattern."

"Please, no riddles. I know what I must do, for I heard it in the Worldsong."

Now, she looked at him. Her expression was slightly incredulous. "I hear it with a hundred times the clarity you do, and you presume to know what the departed say?"

"Anyone can hear the Worldsong if they listen. Perhaps I was just in the right place at the right time. It is time for us to change the world."

The shape swooped closer, heading towards the funeral procession, trailing a little smoke. Mi'sofa sighed. "I think you just seek to die in battle. You do not wish to die from an accident or from gradual decay."

"Perhaps that is a part, but above all I seek the Worldsong. The Sun-dragon speaks to those who are its chosen."

"First you tell me you have been listening to the Worldsong, and now that the Sun-dragon has spoken to you? Are you mad, boy? The Sun has no time for chats as it maintains its place in the sky and breathes its flames to give the Earth life."

"And yet..." So'reso gestured with his hand. "I have seen that we can be more than this. We are the dragons' people. Why would they not seek for us to become pre-eminent?"

"I have seen four chiefs sing the Oath-song and I have seen four chiefs pass away. All of them started with grand ideas much like yours, and all came to quickly accept that this is where we are meant to be. Re'doti, the dragon approaches."

The other Firetongue shaman nodded and knelt upon the dust, placing the box upon the ground. She lowered the ritual mask over her face and increased the volume of her hum. The crowd increased its own behind her, and began to sway slightly. There was a crack of sound from up above as the dragon swept out its pinions to decelerate, its hind legs outstretched. Only a foot above the ground its direction swerved away, shooting back up into the sky, and the body was gone.

"Ti'dome, chief of the nine clans, Lord of the Dawn-Song, warrior of the blue cloak, leaves Earth for the Worldsong. We will listen to his voice in the stars." Re'doti incanted.

"We will listen to his voice in the stars." The response came from four hundred mouths.

So'reso lifted his axe to his shoulder and turned away. "Come. We have another ceremony to attend now."




At the end of the Oath-song So'reso marked another seven scales upon his arm with the jagged ritual knife, and then wiped away the blood using a cloth dipped in goat milk. He accepted his father's horse and spears, then put his own cloak over its saddle and hung his axe from the attached sling. His wife, Ti'mire, helped him tie the chief's mask over his face, and they left the longhouse together. In front of the assembled nine clans, at the centre of the black henge, he repeated the Oath-song, and then prostrated himself before the twelve shamans of the clans.

"Rise, Chief So'reso, leader of the nine clans, Lord of the Dawn-Song, warrior of the scorpion's sting. May the Sun-dragon shower you in its favour."

He pulled himself to his feet and allowed Mi'sofa to mark his forehead and cheeks with patterns drawn in blood mixed with spice. He went to each of the megalithic stone circles and made the corresponding Oath of each, then rode back to the assembled clans and lifted his spear in celebration. "Tonight we feast! Tomorrow I will send riders to the Lord of the Noon-Song, to the Lord of the Dusk-Song, and to the Lord of the Night-song; I have a promise to fulfil. I ask that we begin the Joining of Songs a week early. There is much to discuss. New enemies appear from the mountains, yet the People of the Dragon shall only expand. The heathens of the lowlands shall know our Song soon enough!"
Edited by Holben, Oct 25 2013, 05:01 PM.
Time flows like a river. Which is to say, downhill. We can tell this because everything is going downhill rapidly. It would seem prudent to be somewhere else when we reach the sea.

"It is the old wound my king. It has never healed."
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Komodo
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Amaiae the old leader of the Dumrix tribe ('Leathertents' in human tongue) hobbles out of the village gates which are made out of the tusks of a Plain Mammut to greet the large ogre. Behind him trails the faded ceremonial dress that is draped over his shoulders. He has discussed with the other elders in the central tent.

'The Leathertents will be willing to help you, we shall send scouts across the sea of grass searching out other troops of ogres and tell them of the mighty Guur'Kghak, the Crushing Hand who wants to unite those that are willing into a clan. I hope this is the start of a prosperous relationship between our cultures'. Amaiae grins a wrinkled crooked smile and rests his hands on his staff made of the wizened branches of the few stunted shrubs.

----------------------------------------------

A troop of Hobgoblins are foraging for birds eggs and berries on a ridge of rock. Below them sprawled out is the Great Sea of Grass peppered with clumps of trees. Moving across the plains are a line of small figures leading Forest Trolls with equipment and supplies mounted on their backs. The Leathertent tribe are sending out emissaries to the other Hobgoblin tribes from the Marsh-goblins of the South and the RockHobs of the Eastern Mountains to the Yellowtents of the coast and the Furred-ones on the outskirts of the whispering woods. Amaiae dreams of a time when the Hobgoblins can unite under one leader.
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New in Viam Alternatus: Nagas and other creatures of the Patalan Forests
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Zinnorokkrah
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Sorry, I'm a little busy today, so I couldn't make the updates as "story-like" as I wanted. If you guys want the updates to read more like a narrative or a novel, or prefer this sparse style, let me know in the other thread.

*****

Summer- c.518 PE

Nano- Plains Ogres
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Lamna- The Suthar
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Holbenilord- The Drakosha
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Komodo- Hobgoblins
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Crushing Hand, by now, has taught the Ogre-Reader how to make the sounds of Ogrish words. It is crude and Hobgoblinish, but he learns quickly and has a natural talent for the guttural language. Two challengers have tried to face him, but he has learned how to swiftly disable his foes with a few sharp movements, leaving them healthy enough to be useful but humiliated enough to be loyal. He is yet to choose his wives, instead wanting to decide which are both loyal and beautiful.

Crushing Hand then takes his finest men and women to the other tribe, with a healthy aurochs alongside. It is agreed to have a feast, on which they can discuss their plans, ideals and how they might join together. Crushing Hand is permitted to take the bones of the animal, and with the help of the hobgoblins, it is formed into a pair of bone and grassweave armours that will protect from arrows.

On the matter of the raid on the elf village, Guur'Kghak is allowed a small group of Hobgoblins as followers. They wait until nightfall, and the raid begins. Two trusted warriors are with the main hobgoblins, and wear the aurochs armour. They enter swiftly and silently, and like wolves on sleeping hares, they and the hobgoblins attack the guards. While the elves are distracted, the smaller group attacks the blacksmith. He is bound and captured, along with any useful-writings or materials, and his wife and children are left unharmed. The order is given to end the raid, and any other useful materials are pillaged before the raiders fade into the night. Guur'Kghak finds the tracks of the main party, and is relieved that there are still two sets of ogre footprints.

When he is asked on the matter of aurochs, Crushing Hand thinks for a good while before replying. "I would not recommend it, as an aurochs is a dangerous beast. If one were to break out, it could take the deaths of many before it could be returned to its pen. Instead, I shall help you catch a herd of smaller beasts, and guide you into making the beasts of the wild into a creature of milk and meat."
Edited by TAXESbutNano, Nov 9 2013, 03:33 AM.
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lamna
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Farzana spends most of her time drilling her troops, trying to turn shepherds, merchants, caravan guards and bandits into soldiers. She is modelling her army on flexible lockstep formations of the old empire. She's a hard drillmaster, insubordination is quickly quashed but the new army is based on merit and everyone knows that you can rise high if you are obedient. Anyone can join, men or women. You need only be of sound mind and body, with a loyal heart.

Each soldier is armed with a spear and large shield and a helmet. Short swords, axes and more armour are distributed to the more promising recruits. She does her best to drill into them that running away from cavalry will get you killed, and that the only way to survive is to stand firm.

The nobles who have come over to her side are assigned to her meagre cavalry and chariot force. They are probably too proud to dismount and fight with the commoners, and the force is too small for them to be a real threat. The infantry officers are all men she's raised from the ranks.

What little spare time she has is spend poring over old books from the empire, learning as much as she can about how they fought, their weapons, tactics, battle songs, great defeats and victories.

Procuring enough food and water is the absolute number one priority. Better to have a naked soldier with a full stomach than a armoured starving one. If Hester finds this peasant can help feed them then he'll be rewarded and she's move her base to these green lands.

She allows several of the young lords to court her, but is careful not to show favouritism until the most loyal and capable one can be found.
Edited by lamna, Oct 25 2013, 05:48 PM.
Living Fossils

Fósseis Vibos: Reserva Natural


34 MYH, 4 tonne dinosaur.
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Are nipples or genitals necessary, lamna?
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Holben
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Rumbo a la Victoria

So'reso brooded by the fire, brow wrinkled in thought, and his chin resting on his hand. The evening light rapidly faded away over the horizon, leeching the colour from the mountainsides and leaving them washed with grey. The representatives continued to talk among themselves, some with more animation than others, as the Lord of the Dawn-Song considered how to respond to the various issues he faced. At length, he turned to Re'doti.

"Take five caravans. I would like you to go to the College of Magic in the far south-east, to see if you can negotiate with them some kind of exchange agreement where Firetongues experience activities in the College while their academics spend some time amongst the Drakosha. Emphasise the cultural value to them."

After dismissing her, he stands and gestures for the gathering to quieten. It takes some time, but after a few seconds all eyes are turned to him.

"I understand that there are a number of scurrilous rumours making the rounds amongst the assembled clans. This helps none of us, so here are the facts; none of us have any intention of throwing our warriors against the Empire to the South, or damaging our valuable trade. We seek to lead the clans to better things, not uncertainty and poverty. In any case, there are a few domestic issues to be addressed before we can even think of altering our territory.

"There is another, particularly baffling, tale that has spread around the tents. As I understand it, there are allegations of blasphemy. I must ask you; what has happened to the Drakosha? Have you become the soft, cowardly weaklings outside the mountains, with their ridiculous invisible gods? The People of the Dragon are united in our beliefs because we see the proof of them every day. With our own eyes we see the Sun-dragon and the Moon-dragon in the sky. We watch the Dragons sing and we can hear the World-song when we sit in silence. How, then, could any of us depart from the obvious truth? Truths evidence themselves. If any of us were marked by the Sun-Dragon then it would be apparent in his successes and destiny. The Sun-dragon prefers to act in a subtle ways. It does not demonstrate its benevolence by generating mountains of glass or corn, or any such ostentatious, wasteful miracles. This should not be new to you; you may ask the Firetongues, who have spent their long lives communing with the World-song, if you do not believe it yourself."

"The final murmur of discontent, I am led to believe, is slander against my person. Yes, I am young. Yes, I have but recently taken up my father's spear. Yet this does not mean tradition can be thrown aside. We are the Dragons' People- we show respect. Perhaps you are not convinced. Then, I say to you, watch me demonstrate who I really am. Me'tido, Lord of the Night-Song, I will ride with you and join you in the slaughter of the goblin defilers. It is time we secured our lands."

----

From the clans of the Dawn-Song So'reso brought together his riders. He stood before them, with a quiver in one hand and a strange new tool in another.

"You may recognise the object I am holding here. This is a Quivija longbow, traded from the South. It is larger, more powerful, and simpler than the three-oart hunting bows we use. I have had carpenters study its construction and we have discussed it usage. Long have we rejected such weapons, since they may not be used from the back of a horse, but a new era of tactics has come and the chaotic distribution of weapons amongst our riders lessens our capability in battle. So I am setting down a new inventory for the Drakosha.

"Each rider, in addition to his axe and sword, will have both a short-bow and a longbow. Half of our riders shall also carry a thickened underarm spear, for the charge, and a longer-handled axe which can be used to strike at goblins on foot. One of our advantages is our great speed; we will use this in the best way we can. Our horse-archers can surround the enemy and fire at them from a distance, entirely safe from their charges. We train from birth to spring off and on the saddle in moments; we can use this to rapidly deploy, fire our longbows, and then remount. Once the opponent's force is exhausted and bloody, worn down by our attacks, the spear- and axe-armed troops will sweep in and slaughter them.

"This is a little like the harrying tactics of a dragon, and indeed that was my inspiration. When we fight alongside the dragons, our tactics will synchronise perfectly, and the killing blow will come all the faster and all the stronger. Our enemies stand no chance. Now, in three days I bring half of you to the lands of the Lord of the Night-Song. Ensure you are all well-rested and each of you feeds and prepares his horses. It is time to take the fight to them."
Time flows like a river. Which is to say, downhill. We can tell this because everything is going downhill rapidly. It would seem prudent to be somewhere else when we reach the sea.

"It is the old wound my king. It has never healed."
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Komodo
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The Leathertents read over the manuscripts found in the raid, trying to make sense of the diagrams. The elven blacksmith captive is kept in a large wicker-woven cage by the dwelling-hut of Amaiae and provided with food, water and clothing as well as any of the materials that he requests to create a crude smithing workshop.

Amaiae approaches the nearby village that is home to Crushing Hand. He talks to his translator through sign language. 'Greeting, Crushing Hand. I am pleased at the success of our raid, soon you will hopefully be the first ogre to be clad in shining metal armour as we are getting closer to finally smithing. On top of this the coastal tribe of the Yellowtents have swore their loyalty to us and other groups have expressed interest. I have also come to ask you for something. Our tribe has been badly hit by this spring and I fear that we may lose our weak to starvation which is why I humbly ask you if you could spare us a small number of aurochs so that we may start a herd. As well as this we are sending a small party North to the colder lands in search of messengers that have disappeared looking for the Furred-Ones and I wonder if you would spare a warrior to help us with this. As well as this the party shall be asking more tribes of Hobs and Ogres to join our cause. What do you say to this, Crushing Hand?'

The RockHobs are publicly denounced and neighbouring tribes and allies are told they are not to be trusted. Amaiae promises that those that took part in chopping off the messengers fingers will have the same punishment inflicted upon them. Amaiae is interested in offering his son to marry the maiden of the Marsh-Goblins.
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New in Viam Alternatus: Nagas and other creatures of the Patalan Forests
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Zinnorokkrah
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Wow- this took me forever to finally get to. School kind of swamped me, so sorry it took so long. I'm a little pressed for time right now, so I'll just post a "bare bones" update right now, and add the prose later.

*****

Autumn- c.518 PE

Nano- Plains Ogres
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Lamna- The Suthar
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Holbenilord- The Drakosha
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Komodo- Hobgoblins
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Farzana decides to segregate the infantry by gender, creating male and female halves. Those who raped Hathal are crucified as an example. The rest are pardoned, but warned that if any soldier abuses another, whatever gender they are, they will suffer the same fate. The officers of criminals will receive two hundred lashes.

Hathal herself is promoted to an officer in the Women's Army and sent on a mission to the northern mountains with a small number of soldiers and servants. She is ordered to try and find a dragon and win it's allegiance.

Farzana tells her suitors that she had promised to marry the man who was murdered and must now enter a period of mourning in his honour, but continues to speak to her favourites to try and find out who the killer was.

Farzana moves her troops to be able to defend the newly fertile farmland. She sends out a small detachment of nobles to contact the rebels and see if they wish to change sides.
Living Fossils

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34 MYH, 4 tonne dinosaur.
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Are nipples or genitals necessary, lamna?
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