Creative History Department - Storyline

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Again, the sun rises on a landscape worthy of us. Again day breaks on a horizon that makes my heart quicken and my feet heavy. Campfire can wait, as my search for dry wood has slowed for the opening of this valley. It speaks to me gently…I listen intently.

The ground felt cold and clammy pressed against his ear, but he knelt there, motionless, nonetheless and listened intently to the good earth, hoping for some sign of his quarry. This entire experience was quite familiar to FortyJ. For years, he had led his tribe's hunting parties in search of the great hunt, and for years he had delivered enough food for his entire tribe to survive the harshness of winter. However, because of the magnitude of their current task, and the shear numbers involved, this hunt had proven a little different. This time, he would need to find enough food for not only his tribe, but for all the twelve tribes as well.

FortyJ also knew that many of the other hunters were growing restless, especially those from the smaller tribes. They were not used to this type of hunt. Having fewer numbers to feed, they rarely needed to travel more than a few days from home to find enough food for their respective tribes. They were all eager to conclude the hunt.

The hunters from the larger tribes, on the other hand, were all quite familiar with this type of hunt. However, the few months that had passed since the tribal elders decided to unite the tribes was not nearly enough time for the old rivalries to fade. As such, many of the more experienced hunters from the larger tribes were still bitter about the elders' decision to appoint FortyJ as lead hunter. His failure to locate a herd sizable enough to feed the menagerie of tribes that followed them on their way has led some of the hunters from the larger tribes to talk about changing leaders for the sake of all of the tribes.

Such was the topic of conversation at a nearby campsite. Not 50 feet away from where FortyJ knelt, several of the better and more capable hunters from the Rou tribe had gathered to share their evening meal and to discuss how much better a job each of them could be doing as lead hunter. FortyJ smiled to himself, knowing that elsewhere throughout the camp, other fires were encircled by other hunters from other tribes thinking and talking about the same thing. Fortunately, the suspicions and fears from the old days still lingered, keeping everyone from uniting behind another hunter willing to challenge him for his position as lead hunter. However, one day that could change, and that worried him. He needed to find their prey, and he needed to do it soon.

Which is why, a little over a week ago, he decided to divert the hunters away from the main path provided by the scouting party up ahead. He intended for this diversion to be temporary (no more than a week or two), but the first week went by suprisingly fast with no sign of their prey.

From a make-shift perch in a nearby tree, Jean sat and watched FortyJ as he communed with the good earth. As a member of the Touloo Tribe (one of the smallest of the 12 tribes), he felt especially honored when FortyJ had selected him to be his right-hand man during the great hunt. During the past several weeks, he had learned more about running the hunt than he had in this life and all the lifetimes before. He took great pride in his position within the party, and an even stronger loyalty to FortyJ for selecting him.

"FortyJ" he began to say, but only half of it had become audible as he was cut short when FortyJ abruptly raised his hand and gestured for silence.

Then, finally, FortyJ slowly raised his head and turned towards Jean in the tree. The look on his face was quizzical as if he was attempting to work a very complex puzzle in his mind. Gradually, the expression changed, and soon he smiled brightly at his confidant. "We're close now. Very close. It will happen next rising of the sun."

Jean was taken by surprise by this news. Immediately, a mixture of relief and dread swept over him. He had never been stalking a herd for so long, and he was relieved that they were finally in reach of their goal, but he was also fearful for what may happen - he had never seen, nor participated in a hunt of so many beasts. "Shall I spread the word?" he asked, jumping down from his perch.

"No, but summon the primes. We need to make ready for the hunt." replied FortyJ.

As I finish washing my feet in the creek that feeds these grassy plains, I tightly strap rabbit pelt boots around them and on up my leg. Running my hand through the young tall grass, I confirm my thoughts that we have chosen the right path. The signs indicate that we are at the feeding grounds for a large herd. I slowly turn my head towards the hills we left this morning, scanning them for a glimpse of FortyJ’s hunting party. I wonder how far off my trail FortyJ has moved. He must sense what I now know.

I scan the area for the men of my party. They move as clumsily as new borne kittens, but they are the best of the best. There are the birdmen who scout with trained birds. There is Miko, who has worn out as many boots as I have in this art. And there is a fourth man flanking us in the high ground, Gerra. I change the colored feather I’m wearing in my hair to one of red and leave the area. Miko and the birdmen should see this and leave also. We will head for the high plains and meet up with Gerra.

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Finding Gerra is not a problem and we return to camp were Miko is preparing pheasant over a fire. We discuss our findings for the day and await the runner while we eat. Runners keep contact between the parties and the main group on a daily basis. They are the information we need about the others and they are the delivery of our messages. Miko tells a funny story about the time his misstep sent him sliding down a rock wall into a pool of dark black water. The birdmen look at him as if he is still about to give the punch line. Gerra isn’t even listening, content with his food. These are the men of my scouting party. Of the 5 large clans that lead the pilgrimage, only 4 have sent representatives for this scouting party. The Ami clan, who were the last large clan in our daisy-chain snake of human cattle, did not send a scout, as they could not spare his talents. I know of their man and he is more of a Leader than a scout. The Elders had chosen a scout from each of the large clans to seek bountiful trails to our new home, and they chose me to be senior scout. So far we had given the Elders what they wanted, even when crossing the desert, but now my party had grown despondent, as none of our selections had been chosen for our new home. The grassy plains we were in today were the first of the new territories we have scouted. It was as if the Elders were seeing us move from one scout’s favorite choice to the next (as they knew we would), and rejecting them on that basis. I believe they wanted us to work as a team and seek out new lands, where no man had gone before. We have reached that point and will travel virgin lands from here on.

The 5 of us watch as our runner approaches campsite. He is much younger than FortyJ’s runner, who we sent back this morning. His eyes glisten, as he smells his waiting dinner. As he sits and eats, he informs us that no decisions have been made yet, but the Elders grow weary of travel. I can see why, we have taken them through the best of locations and they move through them never looking back. The wisdom of their collective minds is showing on their aging bodies even though they are nomads at heart. FortyJ seems to have found something, the runner claims, but does not know what. He does know that FortyJ is moving at a quicker pace, and after weeks upon weeks of running between our parties, runner knows when the distance is lengthened. This would mean that FortyJ has left the trail and is probably heading straight for the large herd. This would be FortyJ’s Great Hunt, and he will bring back much needed meat to the clans. The remaining herd of wildebeests will hopefully head for the feeding grounds after FortyJ’s assault.

We will rest for the night. From our perch on the high plains we can see the dust of a distant clan in the sunset. They must be eagerly awaiting the final decision also.

FortyJ checked the bindings on his spears for signs of wear or damage. He was pleased to find the obsidian tips were still sharp despite their frequent use these past few months. He ritualistically and almost reverently lay them down side by side on the ground next to his tent. His tent was nothing more than a single cloth stretched out between two trees and tapered down to the ground. It was utilitarian in design, affording FortyJ none of the comforts befitting the lead hunter of the twelve tribes, but this was a necessity on hunts such as this.

Satisfied with the condition of his weapons, he turned his attention to his pack. His lucky pack had been with him for too many seasons to count. Even when his hunting companions had traded in their packs for new ones; sewn from the hides taken from recent hunts, FortyJ had opted to patch his when it needed it most. It had been with him since his very first hunt, and the good earth willing, it would be with him on his last.

He moved over to his pack, crouched before it, unlatched it and dumped the contents out on the ground before him. The first thing to catch his eye, was his copper breastplate. It had dulled over the course of these past months, but it still retained some of its luster in places. As he picked it up, his fingers subconsciously rolled over the shallow gouge in the lower left side of the plate. He had originally tried to work that dent out, but the crease had refused to give. Now, it serves as a reminder of the dangers that lay before him in the hunt.

On the ground, next to the plate, lay two copper blades, embedded into a hilt made from animal hide. They were not meant for killing - the blades were too short and hardly strong enough to penetrate even the softest of animal hides. You'd be more likely to injure yourself if you tried to use them for anything other than cleaning a carcass, and even then they were tricky enough for those untrained in their proper use.

FortyJ picked up the knives and secured them in the straps crossing in front of his chest. He would wait until tomorrow before donning his breastplate. He turned in time to see Jean approaching from the central fire. The reaction was subtle, but FortyJ recognized it in Jean's face. Not many had tools such as these. FortyJ himself, had his knives fashioned from some copper he had found in previous hunts. The plate, was given to him by the Orle elders in appreciation for his dedicated service over the years. It wasn't very effective at protection (truth is, it barely covered his entire chest), but it was a symbol of status that the other hunters from his clan recognized.

"They're waiting for you." said Jean, glancing quickly from the knives, to the plate, and finally up to meet FortyJ's eyes.

FortyJ straightened his pelt and walked directly past Jean, patting him on the shoulder as he passed. He quickened his pace as he emerged from the trees into the clearing that contained the central fire. Twenty men, representing their respective tribes had gathered in the clearing around the fire; their conversations faded as soon as FortyJ joined the group.

"Hunters! Our prey awaits us." began FortyJ....

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Jean and his party moved swiftly through the tall grasses, but the sun was already setting behind the hills they had left earlier that afternoon and they had not yet reached their destination. The plan for the hunt was simple, but he and his men, over a hundred of them, needed to reach the trees across the vale before morning in order for it to work. He had hoped to reach them before nightfall, but they had to chase the sun more than originally expected in order to avoid spooking the herd. Now, the forest of trees lay directly ahead, and he desperately wanted to reach them soon, so that he could calm his nerves before the biggest hunt in his life.

It was then that he surprisingly stumbled upon Luc, standing in the grasses directly ahead of the main party. Luc was a particularly skilled hunter from the Paree tribe and he and two others were serving as advance scouts for their party. Jean certainly didn't expect to run into him until they had reached their destination which was easily another hours walk.

As Jean approached, Luc did not say a word, but simply pointed at something in the grasses between them and the trees ahead. At first Jean did not see anything, but soon his hawk-like vision caught something moving in the grass. The sinking feeling in his gut confirmed what his eyes were telling him. They had just stumbled upon a pride of lions.

In days of old, Jean would have simply retreated and sought prey elsewhere rather than tangle with these dangerous predators. However, those days are no more. Hundreds of his fellow hunters, and thousands more in the tribes, were relying on him to carry out his task tomorrow. These lions could spook the herd before the rest of the hunters were ready, or worse, they might attack his own hunting party. Either way, the success of tomorrow's hunt hung in the balance and Jean needed to do something.

When we awoke, I again faced a beautiful dawn. The river of the High Plains that feed the ones below, was teeming with fish, our normal breakfast. I knew the main tribe of the Paree would enter the grassy plains while Fortyj would be assailing the wildebeests. I sent runner to meet them while skirting the feeding grounds (so as not to leave a scent). He was to ask the Elder of the Paree tribe to do the same, and I would meet them at the outskirts of the feeding grounds. The second of the 12 tribes, the Rou, would then move into the hills before the grassy plains, as always, following the Clan before them. These first two Clans numbered about 1500 souls each. Behind them were the Orle, the Reim, and the Ami Clans, each around 1200 strong. The 7 smaller Clans followed them, each approximately 500 strong or so. This was our Pilgrimage to our new home as a united nation. A long chain of strong, dedicated people carrying food, children, weapons and tents. I stand in awe of the Elders who put such a Pilgrimage together.

When I meet the Elders of the Paree Clan we will dig in for a temporary campsite. Our Warriors would then prepare for and await the arrival of the remaining wildebeests from the large herd. We would strike down enough to feed our Clan in celebration of the “Great Hunt” and enough to take with us.

FortyJ’s men at the original kill will carry 90% of the meat back to the hills where the Rou are waiting. The Rou will take their share and move on to the Grassy Plains the next day, where they would celebrate with a feast for the “Great Hunt”. Each tribe would do this in succession and then move on the following day. As some of the wildebeests were sure to escape, FortyJ will hopefully follow the remaining herd with some of his men to the feeding grounds. This would allow us to join forces and then celebrate together.
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All had gone as I had thought it would. When we met the Paree, a couple hundred of us prepared for the arrival of the herd. The rest dug in for the celebration. The campsite design was such that it could be re-used by each Clan as they arrived there.

When the herd arrived, FortyJ drove them into our awaiting bands of Warriors and we took our fill, but no more. The wildebeests that were left went out to graze further up river. After the kill, FortyJ and I prepared to pay homage to the Elders of the Paree. FortyJ is of the Orle Clan, but is invited into the Elders tent as Leader of the Hunting Party. Here we are soon to learn the details of the Clans uniting as one and seeking a new home.

A guard pulls back a flap of the Elders tent for FortyJ and I to pass through. The Elders greet us and we make customary gestures of respect. I ask the Leader if we may sit before him and he nods while extending his hand. This is Elder Bonalone. He is the wisest and most senior of my Clan, the Paree.

Bonalone remains seated, as do all the Elders, but you can see he is not a large man. With his flowing white hair and his dark, steady eyes, he has no problem with you seeing this, as in his master negotiator ways, he needs you to believe you have the advantage. One gets the feeling that Elder Bonalone has your entire character mapped out as you walk into his tent. He is dressed in a full rawhide tunic decorated with small, colored stone tiles tied into the strands in a mosaic fashion. Welcoming us in an official manner, he brings out a leather cloth and unfolds it. FortyJ and I realize we are in an awards ceremony and bow our heads. Bonalone presents FortyJ with a bear tooth necklace for valor and honor as Leader of the Hunting Party. He then presents me with a bear claw necklace for truth and swiftness of foot as Scouting Party Leader. We don our ceremonial awards. Bonalone then opens a small pouch and pours out a measured line of what looks to be powdered quartz stone in front of him. His hands move with the confidence of a panther’s walk as he begins to tell us of the gathering of the 12 tribes.

FortyJ and I listen, nodding as Bonalone tells the statistics of the Twelve Tribes. This is mostly common knowledge, but it is always reassuring to hear the current figures for the yearly head count. Then the Elder hesitates and looks me in the eyes as he begins to tell his story.

It had started a year ago, during the Paree Winter celebration. Our tribe always has a festival during this time of year to welcome in the cold winters with a light heart. Times were hard of late and the Paree people did not celebrate as before. As nomads, we traveled to where the food was, twice, maybe three times a year. But our people grew leaner as the herds thinned and the traveling grew more strenuous. This was true of all the Twelve Tribes, whose leaders were invited to join last year’s festival. Bonalone, in his wisdom, knew that the tribes had grown too large to remain as they were. We could no longer stay nomads scavenging the region for fresh herds. We had learned the ways of growing food and irrigating our crops with fresh water. This in turn made our tribes grow to a size that forced us to master roads and tribal council and planning just to keep order. Thus, he brought together the Elders of the tribes and spoke to them of uniting as one and finding a new home to settle and flourish in. An idea well received, a plan was worked out in which the tribes would gather following the second harvest and journey in a pilgrimage until the new Council of Elders chose a location to settle. To help schedule their timeline, they named a full moon after each of the Twelve Tribes. The celebration of the Great Hunt was declared the Winter Festival as we ended the Moon of Paree. As he spoke, Bonalone would occasionally reach down and take a pinch of the powdered quartz and tossed it in the air before him, so that his hands would move through and gather small amounts of the sparkling dust as he told his animated tale. Finally, as he began to finish his story, Bonalone lit the Peace Pipe and we passed it among us. Food was brought in and we spoke of many things. I believe we were discussing when exactly the past met the future when the great Elder asked FortyJ to recant the adventure of the Great Hunt. As FortyJ gathered his thoughts, I spoke to Bonalone about the Hunting Party dispersing and returning to their respective tribes. I also suggested that FortyJ accompany me in the Scouting Party. Bonalone nodded and we both turned to FortyJ, awaiting his tale…

FortyJ had told an extraordinary tale indeed, taking the mood of the meeting into one of adventure and intrigue. We sat captivated until his story was complete. We then thanked him for his contributions to our food supply and ended the gathering, as it had grown late, and we all had an early morning to greet. But that was a week ago...

Since then, we have covered many hills, then a mountain pass, and have arrived at the Coast. As always, the Ocean is a beautiful sight. Our fishing is now done more with nets than sharpened spear. We wait patiently for the Paree to move through the pass, before we move on. During this time, 40J and I hava devised a dialog for communicating directions. Because of confusion caused by each person talking of different areas in different directions and at different distnces, we knew we had to standardize this.

We decided that the direction in which the sun rose from would be called the East, while the direction in which the sun set would be called the West. If one should face the East, then the way to the left would be called the North, whereas the way to the right would be called the South. This made giving directions to others easier to understand, as everyone would acknowledge the 4 primary directions.

As far as describing distance, we needed a common understanding of how far a distance was that could be used in ever-changing descriptions. Using terrain as a base of distance was too inconsistant as the size of a forest or a river or a hill always changed with location. Basing distance on land covered in a season or a moon was to large, so we discarded those ideas. The amount of land covered by our scouting party in 1 day (a day's walk) was agreed upon as a good unit of distance, as we would dicuss our findings each day over dinner. We would call the distance a "Tile", based on the tile decor on Elder Bonalone's tunic. As we had discussee earlier, each small colored tile of his tunic strands probably represented some achievement or progression in his life. We transferred this thought into a Tile representing the daily progress of our scouting party's journey into the unknown.

We will rest the night once again and as the Paree begin to arrive, we will leave and cross the grasslands. Again we will be leaving another fine spot for our nation to settle. Again, we will journey on until the Elders Council has made a decision concerning the location in which we will establish our first city.

The fire began to dim as Jean entered the circle. Instinctively, he wandered over to the wood pile and gathered a few logs to refuel the fire. The flames roared in appreciation and Jean caught the collective eye of some of the girls across the way who were intently watching his every move. Since returning from the hunt, he had become somewhat of a celebrity, especially amongst the younger women in the tribes.

"You'd better watch out, Jean. Word has it that Marie's got her eye on you." came a familiar voice from behind.

Jean turned to see his old friend Thomas rising from his seat in the shadows. "There are worse fates my friend" he replied.

"You know what they want?" Thomas asked, nodding his head in the direction of the girls across the fire. "They want to hear your story again." Thomas was not a part of the hunt, much to his disappointment. He had volunteered to go on the hunt, but he was not selected and instead assigned to the task of assisting the tribes in their final pilgrimage in search of their new home. He was happy for his friend Jean, but part of him was jealous of his new status in the twelve tribes.

"I know" said Jean. It had been nearly a week since the great hunt, and Jean had been asked to tell his story no fewer than 3 times each day. He was beginning to tire of its telling, but one glance at the ladies across the way reassured him that he probably had one more telling left in him.

The two of them walked around the fire in the direction of the ladies who began to whisper amongst themselves as they approached. Jean introduced himself and Thomas to each of the ladies - even though they already knew of him by his new-found reputation. One of the ladies timidly asked Jean to tell them his story one more time, and Jean politely obliged.

The young ladies listened intently as Jean launched into his tale, acting out certain parts with Thomas' assistance. He told how they encountered the pride of lions (exaggerating the size of the pride only slightly) the night before the hunt. He explained how they dared not attack or attempt to scare off the lions lest they react violently and frighten the herd prematurely.

He explained in great detail the events that followed next - how he camped his men in the open field with no fire, how they kept a most-careful watch on the pride in case it moved in the direction of the herd or his men, how the lions awoke earlier than expected and set off in the direction of the herd, and how they actually hunted the lions and drove them away from the herd before turning to drive the herd into the valley between the river and the hills where the rest of the hunters were waiting for the final kill.

Anyone nearby could not help but notice the girls' reactions of shock and horror to Jean's depiction of the days events. Thomas noted, as he told Jean later that night, that Marie's reaction was not only one of shock, but most certainly of admiration as well.

As he crested the knoll, he came face to face with yet another masterful landscape. FortyJ had been with Cyc for almost half a moon since the great hunt concluded, and had followed him and his team of scouts for much longer. Over that time, he had seen many majestic sights, and Cyc had succeeded once again in finding another perfect spot for the tribes to settle down and create a new home. A strange little smile crept to his face as he suddenly began to understand the Elders' dilemma: which one should they choose?

The twelve tribes had been travelling for some time now, and he could tell, despite their nomadic history, the people were growing tired of the trek. It would soon be time to settle down and create a more permanent domicile for them all. There were grumblings amongst some of the more ambitious individuals within each tribe. Some were even beginning to discuss the notion of challenging the rule of the elders. FortyJ didn't generally give much of a thought to such talk, but these were very different times than any he had experienced before. This time, something about it nagged at him.

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Phillipe was widely known amongst the Ami tribe as a deliberate man. He had worked hard, provided for his family and was well respected by his peers. Last summer, his wife had begun to pester him with the notion of finding a husband for their daughter, Marie. It was a most unpleasant task for Phillipe.

Finding a suitor was not the problem. Over the years, he had accumulated quite a dowry for his Marie. However, Phillipe considered most of the eligible men in his tribe to be unworthy of his little girl, and so, had successfully stalled his decision up til now. But he was quickly running out of time.

So it was that the unification of the tribes came as a welcome event for Phillipe. It has served as an excellent distraction whenever his wife brought up the subject of their daughter's impending engagement. Now, it offered yet another opportunity for Phillipe: the possibility of actually finding an acceptable husband for his girl - Jean of the Touloo tribe.

He was not blind to the obvious affection his daughter had for this man. He had seen the two of them together some nights ago around the fire with several other youths. It was quite clear that Jean was showing off while sharing his experiences from the hunt. It was even clearer to him that Marie liked it.

Unfortunately for Marie, Phillipe knew that there would be many young women eager to snare such an eligible young man. Because of Jean's newfound status in the clans, there would also be an equal, if not greater number of fathers willing to entice the lad to marry their daughters. Phillipe was determined to try. He only hoped that Marie's dowry would be enough to convince Jean to take her as his wife.

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Gaston crept out from the shadows from where he had enjoyed his meal in solitude. It wasn't customary to eat alone these days, but given the circumstances by which he came by this meal, it had made sense. He wasn't particularly proud of his actions, but it wasn't his fault.

Ever since the elders from the twelve tribes decided to unite the tribes, it had been nothing but trouble for Gaston. He didn't understand why his tribe, the Paree, would agree to something such as this. The other tribes had only ever been parasites to them in the past - depriving them of food on occasion and forcing them to move from season to season to find herds large enough to feed themselves. Uniting them would only worsen the situation.

They would all understand soon enough, but it might be too late by then. He couldn't allow the tribes to unite. Fortunately, he had a plan to ensure that day would never come.

Weeks have passed since my last writing. Since we left the coast, we’ve crossed the grasslands into the hills, and back onto the coast again. Sometimes the winds were fierce and chilling, slowing our progress, but making our hunting a little easier. Sometimes the days were warm and sunny. We all welcomed the few times we were able to walk on the beach. From the grassy plains of the Great Hunt, we had basically made a sweeping turn like a bow when it’s pulled back full. The feeding grounds were now due East of us. The Ocean was to the West.

Runner had told us several times that the people were enjoying the days on the beach and would miss them when they were gone. He also says there is a new runner that passes through all of the tribes, from end to end. He is the Council runner and only carries messages about favored locations. Some think a decision is near, while others know better. To them this new runner is merely an excuse for more time to stall on the decision. A large portion of the population grows weary of the Council’s inability to move beyond petty differences and conflicting opinions. Things such as this and simple power grabs have made the decision-making process grind to a halt.

One of the Elders from a smaller Tribe, Runner believes it is the Marse, is sending a proposal to the rest of the Council about forming a solid governing structure – led by one man. There is some dissent among some Tribes, but the larger Tribes favor it. This may be for selfish reasons, such as putting their Elder in the ruling position, but the larger tribes are leaning towards a single focus of Leadership, as opposed to a squabbling Council. Hmmm. An Elder from the Marse Tribe...I believe I know him...

The food is lasting, but the people grow discontent with constant travel. Our Leaders talk of a great future, but the main factor we have yet to find is the location of our first city. Hopefully, that decision will be made within the next few weeks.

It is a rainy morning in the moon of Marse. Francois D'bourg is working in his tent. He hears there is news for the possible founding of a city. Perhaps within the next few moons. "That would be nice", thinks Francois. "I don't like having to walk around all the time. A permanent home sounds like a good thing." But what must be faced before this can be true? Will there be issues that stop the people from settling? And what will happen to the minority groups in the Tribes? Time will tell...

"Fire!" screamed voices outside his tent. "Fire!"

Jean quickly crawled out of his tent and sprang to his feet. Through the commotion, he caught glimpse of Thomas who was racing wildly in his direction.

"Jean. Come quick. One of the meal tents is on fire!" he shouted in Jean's direction.

It took a second for that thought to sink in to Jean's half-awakened brain. Before it did, Thomas was upon him and dragging him by the shoulder. "Come on man! Move it!", Thomas urged him on.

It took half a second for Jean's legs to get moving and before long, he was racing beside his friend in the direction of the nearby meal tent. By the time they arrived, the entire tent was ablaze. Ash and smoke rose through the black night sky towards the heavens and people were frantically struggling to get whatever food they could out of the tent before it was consumed by the fire.

Thomas and Jean set about to ensure the fire didn't spread to the nearby tents, but aside from that, there was little they could do. The women were tending to the burns as best they could, children nearby were crying, more from fear than from any wounds they might have suffered as a result of the fire.

"The cook must've lost control of the fire while preparing breakfast" muttered Jean.

Thomas turned to look at his friend. "It's happening much to frequently for my liking Jean," he replied.

Jean turned and shot his friend a quizzical look. "I haven't heard anything" he said.

"That's because you've been out having fun, hunting for food," Thomas retorted. "This is the 3rd such fire in our tribe alone. Rumors have it that other tribes are experiencing similar problems. I tell you what. It ain't good, and I'm not sure that our new Council of Elders is capable of stopping it."

Thomas turned back to the burning tent, "Heck, they can't even find a way to stop our pilgrimage."

Jean glanced at his friend for a second, then back to the fire, and finally to the children crying off to the side. Perhaps his friend was right. It was not in his nature to question the decisions of the Elders, but perhaps things were changing. He had heard of the plan proposed by the Marse Elder named Rik Meleet, but had not given it much thought. Now, for the first time, it was beginning to sound like a good idea.

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In the shadows, far enough from the burning tent so as not to be noticed, Gaston stood and watched the scene unfold. He did not relish in the thoughts of those he had brought injury or worse, nor did he grieve for them. They were simply casualties in his crusade - his crusade to divide the tribes and stop this foolish talk of unity once and for all.

After a few moments, he turned and vanished into the distance. He had yet another tribe to visit.

Two more weeks had passed and the Gods had blessed us again with a beautiful journey. The Scouting Party, which had been fairly spread out, were all brought together naturally by the jagged and sweeping hills of the open range. We now stand before the wide pass that will take us through the mountains. The sun is setting on another long, hard day, as water is scarce of late and we head West to our Promised Land.

“This is a beautiful location, Cyc.” FortyJ spoke softly, as he too was taken by the sunset, as was Cyc. Then with a smile, “Do you intend to watch the entire sunset from this very spot?”

Cyc looked at FortyJ, “This is another landscape I could bear to see from my tent every night.” FortyJ let out a long, slow sigh. Looking around him, he laments, ”Yes, we could find water near and irrigate these plains. There are herds up in those hills, and there’s plenty of room in this fertile valley for our nation to settle. And that is a magnificent sunset. But tell me, Cyc. What were you really thinking about?”

Cyc picked a tall weed and started trimming it mindlessly. A faint smile showed on his face. “Actually, I was thinking about the plan that Elder from the Marse Tribe is promoting. Have you thought about it? I mean we would change from having our major decisions bantered about the Council for weeks or longer with no accountability…to having them made by one man, who would stand before us all. It would be as though he were the Father of our People. Almost as if we were his, as an extension of his arm, to do his bidding. Can you imagine being that man?”

FortyJ turns his bow in the dirt, “Everyday, you and I make decisions for the multitudes in our Tribes. Our decisions help those we care for and share with to survive in today’s world. But the man you speak of will be making decisions for 10 thousand strangers. No, I can not imagine being that man.”

“Runner has told me that many people have”, claimed Cyc. “He hears tales of large discussions about this plan. Anyway, I was just running it around in my head. Let’s go eat some of that pheasant for dinner.”

With that they turned and looked down the long Valley towards the direction they had come from. Campfires from the Paree Tribe could be seen. They tried not to think about them and concentrated on dinner.

Soon CivGeneral and Mara Jade approach the camp. "We have scouted the area, there are no barbarians to report" Said CivGeneral.

Cyc looks at CivGeneral and Mara Jade. "Good, good to hear that and congrats on being chosen the Minister of Defense" Cyc said as he hands the two people there meals.

"We have reported spoting another tribe, though they are unknown at the moment and they are heading away from us" Mara said. "Its good that CivGeneral is also a co-commander to the Jade Commandos" FortyJ said.

"Yeah, Hopefully they will be a good asset in future conflitcts." Said CivGeneral. Soon FortyJ, CivGeneral, Mara Jade, and Cyc head to consentrate on there dinner.

Francois D'bourg is frightened. It is not because he hears that there is a firestarter on the loose or because there is now one man to lead all the tribes. No, it is because of something else. The choosing of a tribal elder has gone awry. Two very good candidates are now at the brink of tribal war, threatening the fragile unity that was carved out among the tribe chiefs. They were ready to fight for it, and one man trying for a spot as an elder declared "Over My Dead Avatar", but no one knew what he meant and they tried to Exorcize whatever demon it was within him. But change would come. And soon the people would have to make a choice over what they were going to do. They might settle, but when? The season for that was another squabble, as the people were asked which moon they did NOT want to settle in, but they mistook it for which moon they did. Now people, it seems, do not want to settle before the planting seasons and and want to settle during the cold winter. How very odd. Francios had somehow been given the job of talking with forigeners, so he went back to work on refining his hand carved alphabet, unsure of what to do next.

We have moved through the mountains and have come upon a wooded area next to some grassy hills. As our Scouting Party had gained a little time on the Paree Tribe, I have diverted from my planned course and am now investigating this wooded area. It has turned into almost a surreal experience for me, as these mystic woods seem to be hallowed grounds. As I cross the grove, I fear that I may be entering virgin territory. It seems that no other human has left any sign of being here. It is so calm and peaceful. The trail I now make will not be one that ten thousand can follow, but if we decide to settle in the grassy hills, this scenic forest will would be a valued asset to our city. One we would be obliged to protect from others. I am an experienced scout, but I am so filled with wonder as my eyes take in the beauty of these lands. I pause on my way out of the forest to find my Party, to watch a deer and its fawn as they gently pull leaves from a small tree for an afternoon snack.

As I enter the sunlight of the day, my Party is not in sight, but as I travel towards the rendezvous spot, I notice occasional movement. My thoughts now return to the Elder of the Marse Tribe. The Marse were one of the smaller tribes, say 600 strong, but it was a respected tribe. This respect came largely because of its Elder, Rik Meleet. As Elders go, he was relatively young, but his charismatic leadership style, along with the brilliance of some of his key proposals, had made the Marse Tribe one that was honored and respected. A tribe that carried substantial weight for its size in our Council.

This new proposal of one man leading our nation with a Council of Advisors had grown quite popular with a majority of the People. But we still faced the problem of convincing the Council, and this would take the act of one of our Gods to accomplish. The Council has been working hard to keep the nation together and organized and that is good, but our goal of finding a location to settle is going unattended. On one hand we need the Council to see the different aspects of our nation get the attention they need, on the other hand there seems to be too many cooks speaking the recipe for this stew.

Rain clouds are coming up behind us. Our nation’s people will be wet tonight. This will add to their anguish. But it will allow them to collect the water that they need. It seems the rain clouds will hang in the mountains and drench the people for at least another day. They will have to deal with the mud, the thunder and lightning, and the dark, dreary day. I hurry to the rendezvous point to see my men. I would like to tell them of the forest and hear what they have found.

Rik Meleet feels the burden of the future molding his shoulders. He isn't the man to usually take life so heavily. But this wasn't a usual circumstance. He could stil feel the words of the Marse tribel council pound in his ears. Why was he moved forward as the promiss for the nation ?

His mind tried to make sense of it all. He couldn't quiet grasp the importance of all this, but he could see the picture of him leading all 12 tribes to their new homelands. It pleased him deeply. Imagine, Rik the leader of all, the most important man in the world, the only man able to build a nation. The already big smile on his face grew bigger and bigger.

The noise of the thunder awoke him from his daydreaming. The cold drops of rain continued to fall down, it had been raining this hard for weeks now. Nearly a whole moon. Usually the rain meant disaster for the Marse, but not this time.

Rik thought back at his youth. As the firstborn son of the richest Marse family he was destined to play an important role in Marse history. The Marse had always been the traders since as long as one could remember. Many moons ago they had already settled their tents in a land far far away from here. Rik couldn't remember, even Rik's grandfather wasn't even alive then. But the stories were still told. The land of milk and honey.

The Marse farmed their land and harvested the abundance of the fields. Live was good. Many names of the Marse could still be traced back to that era. Meleet for instance was old Marse for "eats honey". The friendly contacts with the other 11 tribes always were worthwhile. The Marse supplied all that was needed in food, drinks and jewelry, while the other tribes supplied them with the few parts the land couldn't produce. The Marse grew very rich.

And then came the rains, just as they had come now. The rains kept throwing their force onto Marse land for several moons. All fertile lands were washed away, many people drowned, all possessions lost. When finally the rains ceased the Marse counted their loss. The tribe was decimated, the wealth was gone and the lands were worthless. Starvation would take many more lives if they'd stayed. Thus the Marse adopted the mobile life-style of the other 11 tribes.They weren't hit so hard as they kept moving.

The Marse still weren't really fond of moving; they wanted to settle down. But this time on a better location with better housing and better protection from the elements. For that they would need to convince the other 11 tribes to join. Secret meetings were held with all other tribes and many tribemembers felt the same. But the council of leaders didn't want to settle.

Then came the rains again. The people got fed up with moving around; there was no shelter, there was no more game, there was no safety. The Marse knew now for sure; they need to settle soon. They continued to prpaganda the tribemembers of the other 11 tribes further. They pushed Rik forward as the hope for the future. And things did change. Rik got more and more support for the Marse idea of permanent settlement. No more hunger, no more sleeping in extreme weather conditions, no more moving. Instead abundancy of food, proper shelter and warm houses.

Rik new the only thing he needed to do now is to wait. Tomorrow the council would meet again. That would be the day of a new start. The dawning of a new Empire, led by Rik Meleet. That would be Creation Day.

Cyc’s Party had moved into the foothills of a Mountain area and had taken a break from the long climb. The six members of this Scouting Party were now sticking closer together as the journey had grown tougher, while their spirits had sunk lower. They gathered around a rocky area and started a quick fire. As they huddled around the fire, they looked back into the valley at the masses in their individual tribes. These poor people had been caught in the rain for days, trekking through the mud and following one another in the dark rain. They had now gotten a chance to dry out in the chilly sunlight and shake off the mud. But Cyc did not notice a joyous group of people. The brief movements that could be discerned from his vantage point indicated some kind of agitation among the different tribes. Cyc’s group watched as Runner sped towards their location.

“Cyc! Cyc!” Runner yelled. “You must come…” Runner said as he approached the group who was now standing. “Something truly unusual has happened.” Runner placed his hand on Cyc’s shoulder breathing hard and facing the Pilgrimage. “They have stopped…they have stopped.”

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The Scouting Party’s eyes darted from Runner to the tribes and back several times trying to understand. Cyc immediately picked up on what was happening. He had seen it before with large herds where they would hem and haw, stammering in movement because of fear and confusion. The body of living beings would shift endlessly without moving in any general direction. Normally, this was a volatile situation ripe for stampede, but now it was interesting, as Cyc knew stampeding was the last thing that would happen. He locked eyes with Runner, who was still babbling, “You must come back with me Cyc. People are asking for you. It’s something important.”

Cyc smiled, “Ok, rest a moment, drink from my water pouch. We will leave soon.” Cyc motioned to the others to make sure Runner had what he needed before they headed for the Paree. Meanwhile, he contemplated the cause for such a ruckus. Could the people have collectively made a decision? Had there been a death or perhaps a mass illness? Are the ones he knows in danger? All these thoughts and more flashed through his mind, as he paced. Runner was now ready and they departed for the masses as a group.

As they drew near, the birdmen, Miko, and Gerra broke off and headed for the own, as Cyc had instructed the Party to disperse. Runner almost pulled Cyc in the direction of Bonalone. People were saying Cyc’s name and slapping his back as he made his way through the crowds. Finally, they arrived at Bonalone’s group. The Elder took him inside the inner ring of faithful and explained the situation briefly.

Dissent had been moving between the tribes for weeks now. The cold and wet, the traveling in the mud had only heightened the anxiety among the nation’ people. A feeling of solidarity had formed in a sense of unified suffering and neglect. Also a core appreciation had come about for the one Leader approach to Government. All of this culminated when they rains stopped and it seemed that one could think clearly again. It was if the noise and confusion had stopped leaving a feeling of clarity of ones own thoughts. This was the spark that lit the fire. Now the people that passed from tribe to tribe talking abrupt changes were listened to. People that were once on the fence now agreed that there was the smell of change in the air. A movement for a mass stopping of the Pilgrimage started to spread among the common people. Soon the numbers multiplied and it seemed the people were all nodding their heads in agreement. This planned stopping was in direct contradiction to the Elder’s Council, who at the moment were hard to find. Tension between the Elders had grown to fever pitch as each had heard of the mass stopping in hopes of stating grievances. Had they gone too far in their attempt to control destiny? Had they not done enough to consolidate the tribes? Have they now lost their control of the masses? The Council must gather now – runners had been sent out. A meeting of Elders was declared and now forming back towards the Reim Tribe. Bonalone had sought Cyc’s advice before heading to the Council.

“You have undoubtedly heard of the new plan for a government called despotism. A large wave of pressure has formed in the tribes that seems moments way from crashing down on us. Word between the Council says that we will not survive the new way and we fear for our position. Would you walk with me there and advise me on the matter?” Bonalone started walking in the direction of the meeting as if he knew the answer to his question already. I fell in beside him and kept pace. As we talked, I informed him that I liked the plan in the sense that it would be more efficient. Also, I felt the Council would still have a place of Leadership with the Circle of the Despot, as surely he would need Advisors in matters not of his immediate concerns. Bonalone smiled as he looked at Cyc,” I knew I could ask you. You speak with a kind, wise, and truthful heart. But who will be this so-called Despot, and how will we bring about a change from our Council to his rise to power?”

Cyc excused himself and lifted his head to find Runner. He motioned him over and whispered in his ear a fairly detailed message. Runner looked him in the eyes and then turned facing the direction all were going, and ran like the wind.

“My Elder, I have heard of anger and discontent among the people. Change is in the air and we must heed the call. I have blazed many trails myself, but now we must look to the future to blaze a new trail as a Nation. You have led us in the past, and you must continue to lead us into our future change. When we get to the meeting stand firm in your thoughts, as other will waver from the knowledge of this change. We all know that Rik Meleet has risen in popularity like the tidal wave his plan has created. There lies your answer. Elder Rik Meleet is of the Council, and he will not forsake you in this revolutionary time. Be strong and be supportive of his goals and I’m sure the People as a Nation will answer your questions for you.” Bonalone nodded his head at this in the same manner the masses had nodded their head for Rik Meleet’s plan and the unified stopping. Cyc knew the Elder could still hold his own in any Council meeting. He trusted his judgment to get the job done.