Update 9: 4000 Years
The ground rumbled for a moment, then became still. Animals fell silent, the wind itself seemed to lose its breath and an eerie quiet spread across the valley. Eryam looked up, her small woven basket resting on the ground, filled with plants that she had gathered from the valley slopes. The silence lingered for a moment longer, before a second shock, smaller than the first rattled the land. This time, Erya was not able to stifle a scream. Her auntie, Dezum, called out from further away.
“Come girl! Get off the mountain! It's not safe!”
Erya scrambled, grabbing a few more plump grass-heads, before starting down the hill in a run. She turned and looked back, just for a second. She could have sworn she saw something moving, high on the mountain.”
“Eryam! Run!”
Dezum's call seemed frantic now. Eryam saw her auntie now, who was looking beyond the girl at some terrible thing behind her.
“Run! Run!”
The pair ran, Dezum leading the way, her sister's daughter struggling behind. Soon, the pace was too much for the child's short legs, which gave out. Eryam tumbled, scraping her kneeds and elbows harshly as she did so. Her basket somersaulted away, spilling her morning's work across the ground. She was briefly overcome with grief at her loss, before she saw the horrified look on her auntie's face. Eryam turned and stared, transfixed. The wind, once silenced, now roared, charging forth as a vanguard before a massive wave. Earth, ice and water charged down the mountainside, a wall of destruction. The pair turned and, once Eryam was pulled to her feet, fled, their baskets forgotten.
They ran, simple deerskin shoes and feet beneath tearing on rocks as they did, until both were exhausted and they could run no more. Dezum dragged her niece up onto a promontory, as the roiling, mudslide flowed around them. But this was nothing but a brief reprieve. Further up, more and more was pouring down, and their safe place had become a swiftly-disintegrating island. Massive boulders rolled down through the morass like pebbles in a stream. Helpless, the pair fell to their knees in prayer.
“Oh stars!” beseeched Dezum, “Lift us from death!” But this doom struck during the day, where the guardians of the night held no sway. Eryam cried out “Oh great feathered one, lord of birds, grant us wings, let us fly from here!”
The great wave of debris overtook the refuge with as little care as a man might show an ant. Two finches rose into the sky.
Across the world, the glaciers are retreating. As Milankovitch cycles, decreasing albedo and many other natural cycles push the planet into a steady warming trend, the massive ice caps that formed over one hundred thousand years earlier are at last beginning to melt.
The scale of these edifices of ice is such to defy proper human comprehension. A glacier is humongous, a mountain-sized mass of ice, ground rock and steadily-compacting snow. But we can still easily picture the size of a glacier. How then can we picture an ice sheet? If a glacier is akin to a mountain, an ice sheet is a veritable continent. Towering and tall, so high and large that they alter the global climate, turning forests into wasteland, or bringing rains to once-arid deserts. Their bulk is tremendous, the accumulation of tens of thousands of years of trapped precipitation, all contained within their stupendous masses. So heavy that they grind down the mightiest mountain ranges with their incessant, grating movement, and compress the very continental plates upon which they rest, pushing the crust below sea level.
When they reigned, these glaciers covered a vast region, including the entire world up to the 50th parallels north and south, even further when high mountain ranges allowed the glaciers to spread further towards the equator. The people of the great mountain spine of the continent of Apalo, which crosses the equator, were quite familiar with glaciation. However, as the glaciers begin to retreat, a whole new world appears: not just in the lands that they cede back to surfaces of rock, sand, gravel and dirt, but to the coastlines of the entire world. Such is the mass of water stored that the oceans, denied for countless millennia, are now repaid their lost precipitation in full. In most lands, it was not nearly as dramatic as it was in the mountainous home of Eryam, but the process was steady and inexorable. Over the course of a few millennia, the global sea level has risen by nearly 150 meters. This has pushed coastal peoples further inland, often triggering conflict in more heavily populated areas. Nowhere has this been more sever than in the Gero Valley, where the coastline has shifted by over 1000km in some areas, reducing the river to half of its original length and sinking a vast, fertile land beneath the waves.
Northern Continent (Wabana)
Rising sea levels have slowly pushed deeper into the continent. Nowhere has this had a more dramatic effect than in the lands of the eastern Wabban. The fertile valleys that were once the heartlands of early agriculture have been inundated, pushing populations further upriver and separating a large portion of the population offshore, who have come to know themselves as the coastal Obuus, and the more nomadic, interior Habaan. These people have both been put under great population pressures due to the migrations, leading to warfare and accelerating the formations of clans and tribal alliances.
On the mainland, the Wabban people have also faced great population pressures from their shrinking realm, with similar results. Sedentary communities were upset and often uprooted, but agricultural traditions generally managed to carry on. In the most populous areas, the Wabban have begun to create elabourate communal graves. Across Wabban lands, the image of the sacred circle appears regularly: not only in the shapes of their barrows, but also in their radial villages, and in the stone circles that they erect in reverence of cyclical, celestial wonders. While there are many small villages throughout this region, none have grown beyond housing a few hundred, or formed large political entities, and social stratification remains less pronounced than on the offshore island, where great warriors and semi-hereditary clan leaders have played a greater role.
The Agvan people, northern cousins of the Wabban, continue to creep further northwards as the climate warms. At home in the boreal forests, they have developed a veneration for the great trees of the coastal forests, carving symbols and markings of cultural importance into their thick bark.
Somewhat isolated from the Wabban cultural complex in the east, the central Wab and Hoppa nonetheless adopt some similar burial rites, constructing artificial earthen caves to house their dead, guarded by animistic idols. Pastoralism is becoming more common throughout the region, as domesticated sheep grant a great advantage to those people who have learned to manage herds of livestock. A few cereals, including spelt and millet, have arrived from the Wabban, likely by Obo intermediaries, though agriculture's presence among the northeastern Wab people is currently very limited. This is in large part due to the fact that the agricultural centers on the Wabban coast are very far from the densely-populated portions of the Wab where agriculture might have a chance to take hold in the near future.
On the northern edges of the great interior sea have arisen the Sapopo. Relatives of the Obo dog-keepers, these people build boats of skin, wood and bone, and hunt the birds and giant otters which call the sea their home.
The Obo, mixing with the Ap in the gap between the northern and western mountain ranges, have also given rise to the Godo people. Mixtures in this corner of the continent have made for a rather colourful and diverse region. The Wayha descend from both Wobaoh and Hoppa, though their relatively paler skin suggests that they may also bear significant Godo or Obo heritage. Independent of their distant Wabban cousins, the Wayha also raise megaliths, though these are lone structures, rather than complex circles. These hunter-herders have come to develop a complex tribal social structure, and have a faith which venerates the collective, living spirit of the tribes, the fertility of the earth, and the animistic might of the wild beasts. The Wayha thus have a deep respect for the massive woolly rhinoceroses, deinotheres, mammoths, bison, bears and predatory cats, almost all of whom are dwindling severely in population due to the changing climate and advent of highly competent human hunters.
To the south, the Veyaj are descended from the Veyay. With a strong martial tradition, the Veyaj war regularly against both their neighbours and themselves. Ultimately, this has led to the heavy codification of warfare and violence, and many conflicts are now solved in ritual combat between champions of rival groups.
Apala
The Gero, Querhua and Dierhua have lost almost the entirety of their territories, forcing huge migrations into the territories of their neighbours. This massive migration has triggered stupendous bloodshed, and has arguably been the impetus for the formation of the first walled cities.
The Geros, once masters of the northernmost branch of the river, still dominate the area, though it is now vastly reduced, and flows directly into the ocean before connecting to the rest of the river system, somewhat isolating the Gero people from the river that is their namesake. The Dierhua, who once dwelt in the central reaches of the river, have fought viciously against the Gerdho, Jero and Sierhua to maintain their position. While reduced in range, the Dierhua still hold the richest and most fertile stretch of the valley, as well as the river mouth itself. It is the Querhua who fell the furthest. Once the most widespread and influential people in the valley, the Querhuas were repulsed by the Dierhua and Gerdho, and many fought among themselves to the point of near-extinction. Today, Querhua culture remains only along a narrow strip of coastline between the Gero and Aquer rivers.
Another notable loss, in this time of great population movements, was the long presence of Wabaha communities on the coast. Vastly outnumbered and thrust into conflict with the inlanders, these communities were either wiped out or forced to flee. Today, Wabaha communities exist only in a greatly reduced state, and their presence is largely limited to occasional trading missions.
Driven by the intense competition of the inland migrations, social organization and densification has been forced ahead, leading to the formation of larger and larger villages on the lower stretches of the river. The largest of these are in the lands of the Dierhua, where mud brick walls and houses have been assembled to protect their populations from outside raids and attacks. These Dierhua constructions represent the first true cities formed by human civilization.
Further north, the Hwabhwa and Gevera have also been pushed far inland. With the Abhwals and Hwetka remaining stalwart upriver, these two displaced peoples were greatly weakened and reduced in both range and population. Meanwhile, the Hwabhwa living upriver of the Hwetka, having been separated for thousands of years from their relatives, have now diverged into the Hakhak.
In the southeast, things have remained largely stable. The most advanced people are the Aegers of the Kogan River, who have formed settlements which engage in periodic warfare with one another. Each of these villages has a significant degree of social organization, with power resting in an unstable balance between traders, priests, and skilled craftspeople. The Aegers are middlemen for the trade routes between coastal Wabahas and the mountain-dwelling Kippals, who provide worked trinkets of soft, alluvial gold, a substance which has acquired significant cachet as a status symbol.
Further south, Agal antelope herding has become widely adopted by other nomadic peoples of the region, most notably the Saryaz and Omotog (a southern branch of the more sedentary Matagya). These herders enjoy a generally friendly relationship with one another, preferring trade and occasional raiding to outright warfare. Meanwhile, agriculture from the northwest has steadily become more established in the Yakgu Rifts, particularly among the Sierda and Daryava, who now grow fonio and sorghum. However, the natural wealth and productivity of the region is such that hunting and gathering remains the means of survival for a bulk of the southeast's population.
The Diryaj are pushed generally south by the Amalyafvs, though isolated populations remain in their traditional lands, snacking on the smaller humans whenever chances present themselves.
In the Itap (or Itaro, a distinction that has already been associated with millions of deaths), warfare continues unabated. The Gierho maintain a fairly strong connection with the Gero River, though migrations back to their ancestral homeland are generally rebuffed by the Amalyo and Diafhe. As a result of this contact, the Gierho are exposed to agriculture, though their warlike, unstable lifestyle means that hunting and gathering is a far more reliable practice. Small defensive constructions are the closest these people come to building cities. Partly as a result of this, the principles of farming fail to establish themselves widely in the Itaro basin.
In spite of this, the Tyumru have still managed to pick up a limited version of the Gero Valley's agricultural package. Much more stable and populous than the Gierhos, the Tyumru develop concepts such as confederations of tribes, and begin to culturally limit wars amongst their own kind. These limitations do not apply to the foreign Gierhos, who become a major foe of the Tyumru during this time, and are steadily pushed back to the east.
On the southern coast of the sea, the Tiryaps slowly recolonize the Ypta Mountains, only faintly aware that these broad, glacier-hewn valleys are the ancestral homeland of their people. Meanwhile, the Ziag and Zyuzak have steadily grown together, ultimately forming the Ziyuzagh culture. In great displays of large-scale social cooperation, spearheaded by an influential priesthood, the Ziyuzagh first expel the Tiryaps, and then the Ikzils and Gierhyeps. Ascendant, the Ziyuzagh have at last broken the long stalemate of their region. They are currently pushing back strongly against the Gierhyep, and have also spread far into the lands of the Tyumru, where they alternatively fight with and confederate with the locals.
South of the Ypta Mountains, the Tiryats gradually expand into the vast, scoured land abandoned by the retreating ice sheets.
Around the Timika Sea, temperate and swollen with meltwater, the Tiriyatas further cement their dominance. Remaining Timikas are pushed to the arid, northern extremes of the basin. Meanwhile, a mixture of Tiryats, Mkyaph and Makyerf settle the region to the south of the second-greatest inland sea in Apala.
The Kiryaks have expanded southwards in pursuit of the retreating ice. The coastal Kiryak people are increasingly proficient large mammal hunters, and push further and further out to sea. While they are not successful in making trans-oceanic crossings, they do expand far to the north, coming to interact and compete with the Wabakos and Makapos. Meanwhile, the interior Kiryaks follow the rivers inland, to find humongous freshwater seas, left behind by the retreat of the glaciers.
Rising sea levels, and complexity of the relocations involved lead to the disruption and breakdown of the long-lasting Wabako/Makapo cultural complex, where two distinct peoples lived together, largely peacefully, each occupying a different environmental niche. Much of the culture living along the arid coastline is now Wombax, a hybrid culture formed out of the relocated coastal milieu. The remaining Wabakos remain on the southern fringe of their old range, while the isolated northern population has come to refer to themselves as Abankos.
The Akp migration out of the great dividing mountains continues, at the expense of the indigenous Obahos. Spurred on by the exhortations of the priesthood of the Serpent God, these new occupants of the lowlands, calling themselves the Echp, gradually come to adopt parts of the old Obaho lifestyle, moving out onto the seas, whose bounteous, but dangerous waters allow the population to swell further.
Epua
The entirety of Epua has been encircled by human populations. On the far end of a long, rugged coastline, the Yopuo and Oypo have encountered one another. Meanwhile, the northern Oypuao diverge, giving rise to the Yoytua.
Further inland, the Heben people are Hebet who have escaped the realm of the Storm God. Making a new home for themselves in the plains of northern Epua, the Heben live a primarily nomadic existence, although they do build some very simple shrines, containing 'tamed' water, celebrating the Sun's victory over the Storm.
Agvant
Blown adrift in a winter storm, a party of Agvans were carried offshore. Unable to navigate under the cover of thick clouds, this bold party paddled aimlessly, until land returned into view. Relieved, they set foot onto a rocky beach teeming with walruses... more than enough meat to get them through the coming winter.
It was not long before these Agvan realized that the sun no longer rose over the water and set over land... now, it did the reverse. They were the only people in a vast land. Over time, this small starting population multiplied, and began to push forward the outer boundaries of humanity once again.