The tribe marches onward across the sea of grass, their huge frames compacting the earth down into a pathway for the herd to be guided along. The Loxodon are odd among nomads in that they rarely take mounts, instead preferring to lumber for all of the daylight hours in a long, drawn out journey. They travel in a convoy three wide, with several roaming behind to keep the massive herd of cattle and sheep in line.
The sound of shrill braying and trumpeting fills the air as the march continues, the Alpha marching triumphant, the tusks of the old Khan rising on their chain with each step. He paused a moment to look around, and saw a cloud of dust rising in the distance. This could be many things, but it is certainly something or someone. Perhaps a Wyvern settling a nest? some of the smaller, more Western raiders that are small enough to mount horses rather than walk?
The bulls take their weapons from the younger ones fortunate enough to have been allowed to carry them, and look to the Alpha for a command.
>The terrain is rough steppe, with hills dotted around. The dust is around twenty minutes walk away, over a hill.
>1d20 for actions, What are your orders?
Rolled 17 (1d20)
>>46611057
Wait to see what they are.
I'm gonna wait for a few more people.
Elephant bump
>>46611559
Also get a trip.
>>46611397
rolling for this.
Any explanation though? Is this like regular civ games or what?
Hello
Rolled 15 (1d20)
>>46611774
rerolling because i'm too dumb to roll
Bumpimg for relevance!
>>46611397
Your men form into a circle, and the baggage train hunkers down in the center, the younger bulls on the outer layer of the defensive circle, and the Older behind. There is a tense moment of waiting before a humanoid figure clad in shining metallic plates approaches, upon the back of an Aurochs. The huge Aurochs brings the humanoid to around the height of the Alpha, and the figure tentatively moves closer to the group, pulling a golden object from a saddle-bag.
It is a prayer staff, pointing towards the homeland in the far east. The figure removes it's helmet, and moves towards the Alpha. It speaks in a flighty, smooth voice, as if water around rocks.
''Gods smile upon your Herd, Bull. We desire no battle, no war... we are pilgrims, but pilgrims, nothing more. We go to the Golden City, to the East, you must know it?''
The figure does not appear armed, but he is soon followed by a group of warriors, similarly mounted and armoured. They do not seem threatening, simply very defensive.
>How do you respond?
Rolled 7 (1d20)
>>46612340
''That's a nice staff, why is it golden''
If it's magical, try to take it. Otherwise simply answer to his question.
>>46612340
No, we do not. I am the ALPHA USURPER, the omega twister, the butblisters.
Tell me about the golden city.
>elephant folk
>alpha male leader
Not even sjwing but do you even matriarch, anon?
>>46612340
"We know not of this city ye seek, You may tell us of it, if ye please."
>>46612452
>>46612445
>>46612340
The Staff you know to be a prayer stick, a ritual tool used by administrative slaves to pick out pilgrimages for their masters. Intrigued by this wealth the Alpha speaks in his usual, booming, overwhelming tone ''Tell me of Lhasa. Why do you seek it?''
The Pilgrim winces at the sheer volume of sound, before responding in a still smooth, seemingly calm tone
''The city is to the east. Far. Beyond the distance any man can walk in a month. In two, or three, perhaps a year. It is high in the mountains, off the steppe. It was built by giants, some say, built of molten gold, of black stone from the great deserts, from Iron of the Black Sea, pearls from the great western sea, and...''
''And what?''
The Pilgrim flinches away, looking to his guards for support and finding none in their mirror like Armour, before placing his prayer stick into the ground and bowing his head before speaking once again, in an apologetic, servile tone.
''Ivory, Great Bull, Ivory from Loxodons driven from the mountains, and from Africa. It is a holy place, perhaps the holiest. The blood of generations of failed pilgrims line the route to the Golden city, or so some say.''
>>46612486
I do, but we've not gotten to that yet.
Rolled 5 (1d20)
>>46612664
''so basically you are talking about a city that doesn't exist? Well good luck finding anything before you starve or die from thirst''
Just gtfo from there, they're trying to provoke us.
Rolled 13 (1d20)
>>46612664
ITS A TRAP
Tell them to move on, and make sure we have an tactical advantage if they wanted to strike at us
>>46611057
Is this the same elephant-man civ (or guy running it) as before?
>>46612724
The younger bulls around the circle snort in anger, steam rising from flared nostrils, adrenaline pouring into eager muscles, eyes fixing upon the weak pilgrims that dared to mock them. The Alpha, older, experienced by comparison, manages to suppress his own anger enough to wave off the Pilgrim's remark about a city that for all he knew was imaginary to begin with. The Pilgrims turn to retread, leaving the prayer stick as a gift to the Alpha. The younger bulls look to the Alpha with anger flashing in their eyes, and it is only the gaze of the older bulls that keeps them from acting.
The herd holds itself together until the pilgrims are far enough for their dust to be seen on the horizon, and then returns to walking, tales of their brother's used as carpets by the cowards in Persia, or the weaklings in the west, or the half-men of Yuan. The talk in the camp is fatal, angry, demanding. The grumbling continues, and the constant snorting and trumpeting begins to be heard beyond the camp. In the darkness, affronted eyes watch.
In the shadows of barely minded camp-fires, in the center of the sleeping camp, low cackling rises, and small figures surge in the silence.
Roll for combat. (1d20)
>>46612961
As last night, yes.
Rolled 11 (1d20)
>>46612979
just roll for combat or I also have to order the alpha to investigate?
>>46612989
No, I was thinking ages ago.
There were also lion, or maybe hyena, -men as well.
It got dark.
Like, really dark
Rolled 11 (1d20)
>>46612979
Rolled 8 (1d20)
>>46612979
>>46613041
I remember that one.
>>46613040
>>46613060
>>46613105
Average 9.6/20
Not good, not bad.
In the darkness, the spotted beasts slink through the camp, blades of black patterned bronze pulled from leather sheathes. One slinks into a tent, finding within a sleeping female, a huge, ancient mother, not the matriarch, but perhaps the one to follow her. The gnoll slinks up around the tent, and slashes into what it thinks to be the Mother's neck. As it turns out, this was the Mother's shoulder. Feeling a surge of pain, perhaps a ton of furious instinct rises to it's feet to defend it's young. She lets out a bellowed trumpet, slashing her tusks wildly, one of them slamming into the Gnoll's wretched face, snapping the bones besides it's eye. It rises and leaps, embedding it's blade in the Mother's withered flesh, wrenching it down and bolting out of the tent.
The camp is utter chaos, four hundred men and women rising among several thousand livestock, surrounding perhaps a pack of two hundred gnolls and a seething mass of Hyenas. The Shepherds fight with double-head flails of goat-bone, shattering skulls. The old bulls fight with spears, and a few of the oldest fight with blunt staves. These men are not usually warriors, they are the servants of the shaman, Gelded when they were young to channel the rage of youth. The Geld-Bulls, as they are known, fight without ferocity, without anger, instead with an inevitable, scheduled gait, some would seem asleep if not for their movements.
The Young Bulls protect their mates with their fists, their tusks, and their trunks. A particular young bull strangles a Gnoll with his trunk mid-way through the fighting, and eagerly throws himself into the bloodlust that is so contrary to the Geld-Bulls, the red mist consuming a mind rather than focusing it, unbridled rage launching fist tusk into weakened flesh. Cont.
>>46613551
fist and tusk*
The Alpha fights in front of the Matriarch's tent, despite the Matriarch not being present, as is his duty. The battle is bloody, brutal, but short. It takes perhaps two hours from the first trumpet, to the last fleeing Gnoll, one eye white and dead in it's head. The corpses are collected, with the Gnolls lined up and decapitated for trophies, their corpses left to line the pathway. In all, fourty Loxodons were lost, including multiple children. Twenty bulls have lost themselves to the blood-lust, and are now minded by the Geld-Bulls, capable only of battle.
> The Gnolls have fled, but the blood of the battle will surely be smelt by more local packs.
>What will the herd do?
>>46613830
We need to show the locals that we are fearsome. We should probably take revenge and invade.
>>46613918
Invade what? You're all nomads, and currently in the steppe.
>>46614200
explore for other potential dangers and then invade them, i guess. But let's wait for more people first, shall we?
>>46613830
Send scouts fo find where the attackers came from.
>>46615349
Seconded. No one messes with the Khan.
>>46615859
He's a slick Loxodon
He's a quick Loxodon
>>46616097
I hope OP comes back soon. I'm really on board with this whole setting.
