Bay 12 Games Forum

Year 302.22
Since the century faire in the Jahtari Sultante, entertainment has become a cultural focus amongst the Lizardmen, and the sultan is willing to invest thanks to the prosperous peace and sprawling cities they've built. Recently, a new game has enraptured the scale folk, from clutchlings to the eldest ones. Breakthroughs in the use of Flyrite alloys bave allowed a much greater breadth of use to the material.

One such use is creating small alloyed balls that bear the heft of steel, yet in a practiced hand can fly gently. Combined with bracers and leggings of the same material, Jahtari athletes are able to leap ever further and plummet ever slower. This new and perhaps first spectator sport consists of fourteams of four within a circled arena made of four quadrants. Multiple horizontal hoops line the center of the field and each teams quadrants. The goal is to end the game (which takes place over a full hour without pause.) With the highest total score. The central hoops increase the score of the team that slings a ball through, while scoring in another team's main hoop reduces their total point value. There are always six Flyrite balls in play, and limited regulations aside from the purposeful drawing of blood.

The game has come to be known as Gaht'Gurro.

(( I freakin' LOVE your low-poly models. It's been something I've dabbled in here and there, yet find that I have very little talent for it. I keep telling myself I want to make a n64-style looking game one day. But never seem to put in the effort to learn it proper. What Software do you use Strik3r? Blender? ))

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Year 301
Something stirs in the Wharg collectives upon the southeastern archipelago. Long have the quad-armed ape men dwelt unchanging in their primitive ways in that tropical paradise. Yet after a freak thunderstorm, a chance lightning-bolt struck an old log from which the Wharg had carven their chronicle. As such, the ape-men discover fire! They do not bear fear or anguish toward the destruction of their oldest stories, but rather that it is some kind of animist sign, like the stories took life unto themselves. Quickly however they find that the flame dims, and it causes much worry about the tribe. With another, similar stroke of luck, they cast first bedding upon it in hopes to keep it warm and prevent the cold and the wet from snuffing it out. Much to their surprise it grows and burns higher! From thence, the Wharg bid to keep this 'first flame' alive, a noble position, 'Fire Tender' is highly regarded among the tribe. And all smaller flames are to be wrought from the first.

Do the Wharg make any notable advancements thereafter?

Year 301.1
With the Third Crusade underway, the ever loyal Moss Trolls bear their hearts by way of ship to the humans of Streamland. There, they offer their strong bodies and wise countenance for the sake of their allies. And ask nothing in return. During this sojourn, do any Moss Trolls contract the Purple Leaf Disease? And if so, does it affect their physiology much like that of the other hosts?

(( Felt like writing a short, underdeveloped story in the dead of night for the turn of 300. As I have little else meaningful to add to the third crusade. Hopefully it's at least readable. ))

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Year 300
O' Sultan~
O' Dorath~
O' Foreus~

O' lords of peace.
O' father let me be. Take me away, let me dance upon the deck up above! Let wind and weald go with me and--

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"Kha'tra!" A gruff hiss came from the kitchen, a leathery old Lizardman tending carefully to a clayware oven and his products. He commanded without even turning a slit eye by way of his daughter. A young Lizard woman, she crept as silent as she could and just barely, barely let her nails cast themselves across the door of their little abode.

She froze, unable to set her sight aside from the curving handle. . .

So many talons marching across the street, great drums pounded in unison all while chants and songs carried themselves up to the heavens. Kha'tra could hear it, and hear it all so vividly, picturing it with complete clarity in her elongated head. Eventually she found the will to glare upon her old father, baking away. "Never will there be another century faire in my life!" She hisses. "Nor yours. . ."

"Haven't I told you, girl? You are not leaving this house." The old baker spits, with little venom toward his daughter.

"There's still time! Please can we just go and see the lights in the s--?" Kha'tra practically begs, having already asked this question a thousand times before the weeks leading up to this day.

"No!" He cuts the girl off and at last turns her way, stepping forward with a rickety cane in hand. "You've heard the tales. You know what came of Sahtii the Younger!" He continues, more fury in each step. "Until I hear the Sultan is dealing with the Jahtgaro, we are staying SAFE! Understand?"

She scoffs, gripping the door handle all the more tightly. "Jahtgaro this! Jahtgaro that! You don't really believe all that, do you?" Kha'Tra doesn't let him reply, "You will just keep me locked away just like you did my sisters until we all finally abandon you!"

"Kha'tra, I just don't. . ."

"I HATE you!" She spat, venom and all, storming off, leaving deep scratches by her talons in the stairs as she did. Leaving a tear or two to meet the gruff old baker's eye, who again returned to his oven. He felt the weight of his care for the family, it burdened his shoulders well. But even so, be could not blame her. Nor her sisters for running off. "My darling clutch. . ." He mumbled to himself.

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Let me be~
Fair and fun, and happy and free~
O' father, O' faaather~
Please. Let me beeeeeee.

Kha'tra rest upon a gold leaf inlaid chair, before a window upon the second story, hoping her troubled thoughts would float away. She could her it then in the distance. Great pops and blasts, what colours she wondered could the powders produce? And what majesty mustit be to witness the sailing skyship in the horizon, sailing after those new 'fireworks'. . .

Her eyes were closed, picturing the century faire and all that she would miss.

When at last they opened, she became frozen in fear. For they had met with two great goldenrod eyes and slit, slate pupils gazing intently back. She could not even scream.

"Child of the Monolith." A rumbling sound and understanding welled up inside her as those words made themselves clear, bellowing silently from the mind of the many spined viper that rest head-level to her window. Coiled ever so gently around their outskirt home. "To devour thy hearth and home did I come. But it is thine voice from which I drink deep."

"Never before have such tones made themselves known to me or mine kin. I could not mar such beauty." It spoke wordlessly and refined.

Fear turned only to trepidation, and ever the obstinate one, the young woman replied  without regret. Introducing herself to the Jahtgaro before her. "I am called Kha'tra." She says quite simply. Unable to think of anything else.

"This I know. And your father, Fehtaa. We are bourne of the same mother, thine people can hide no secrets from mine."

There are moments of silence. Followed again by the dull roar of the faire in the distance. Again, the serpent spoke, Basileus its name, "Come. I know of what thou seek, and wouldst grant thy wish for return of thine song again.

Kha'tra was drawn by the great serpent's gaze, and found she could not look away. Something deep within her realized it spoke no lies, that she had a connection to the creature despite this chance meeting. So like any reckless youngling, she climbed out upon the ridged head of Basileus whom spoke, "Be wary, for I am fickle, and would just as soon swallow thee whole. . ." Kha'tra however was unabated, and so they slithered into the open fields where they could see bursts of sparks and colours alike in the dark skies high above the Sultante proper. All while the young lizard sung, her words like honey, lulling the great beast.

At the time perhaps it was not forseen, but this event on the turn of the prosperous new century for the Jahtari was also the night that the eventual, 'Jahtgaro Cult' could be traced back to. . .

(( The turn if the century is so close. Historic! ))

A charger!

Year 294.2
βασιλεύς (Basileus) is pleased as it begins to garner worship and praise from the Vasilikos. However, the serpents paltry sacrifices, and undersized domain do little to sate the Great Viper's enourmous stomach. Not merely for the sake of food itself, but the allure of yet greater evolution prickles at its mind.

It looks to the Monolith towering over the horizon, surrounded by the Bleg. Insolent beasts that treat the stone like a rote idol, and do not even think toward the secrets of life holds. Their flesh is not on Basileus' mind however, especialliy so considering their wariness to the lake isles.

To the Vasilikos it commands, 'The gift of brilliance, the gift of size, the gift of strength. To those whom treat me to the most meat of the Lizards to the north.' Words unspoken like the tongues of men, but understood no less.

The Jahtari too were children of the Monolith, and Basileus hungered, yearned to grow closer to the dark stone's source of power. Carefully, the rapidly growing Vasilikos attempt to pick off and steal away solitary or small groups Lizardmen with their cunning hunt, and return them to the lake as meals. Without making themselves greatly known.

Year 292.5
It was not long, a few years at best, before the great spined viper was fat upon the blood of its brethren. Its breadth had grown long indeed, as had its unnatural lust for blood. Yet so too in turn did it come to value introspection, and as the serpents turned inward their esoteric knowledge grew.

They found little bits of olde lore in between the cracks of their growing minds. Piecing together their origin, their mother of slate whom birthed and gave them their thoughts. And it was through this collectively knowledge that the snakes were connected.

The spined viper, far more monsterous in size now knew full well that supping upon the flesh of lesser serpents would do it little, greater prey with greater vitality would be needed. And why? It asked itself this question but could find no answer other than, 'it must!' To grow and ascend was merely its birthright, granted by the dark Monolith. Or so it believed perhaps in delusion.

In this realization, it halted its wanton feasting, coiling about the lake isles with a regal gaze. ' βασιλεύς' ( Basileus ) it named itself, called so by their unmet stone progenitor. And to its kind, the viper granted them the name, ' βασιλίσκος' ( Vasilikos ) after itself. The domiance among the serpents of the lake by βασιλεύς was unchallenged, and so, fearing its venom and fang alike, they bowed their heads in gathering.

Though perhaps one could not call the serpents a 'nation' in the most direct terms, nor were many even aware of their newfound sapience, certainly it could not be argued that the snakes banded together 'neath the shadow of their lord.

The gaze of βασιλεύς now turned elsewhere.

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(( I appreciate the summaries, I read every post but they really do help me keep the pure simple facts in my head as I move forward. I think they're very useful! ))

(( Also just wanna say that though I keep messing with these snakes, I dont mind at all if they're meddled with. I wanna leep up the spirit of the game of course, so everyone should feel free reign over anything I do. That probably doesn't need to be said. Either way I'm loving this~))