Tribal Civilization Thread

>>958650
Fauns
Please still be here.

Homunculus
Subterranean

>>958700
Forgot location
>jungle

>>958709
Seconding

>>958700
>>958709
So, one vote for goat people, and one for Homunculi. I can see a clan of traveling bards collecting stories for the Fauns, which would be kickass, the Homunculi could be interesting to do too, if you like a bit of Sci-Fi in your fantasy.

>>958718
Two votes for the cave robots

>>958726
Ah, I missed the post by twenty seven seconds.

If we're gonna do this, how do you guys want me to do it? Do you want Sci-Fi? Forerunner sort of thing? Magical Agents of the Gods? Just confused creations who've lost their masters? I could play it as you guys being the servants of some evil king/god? Of course, suggestions are welcome.

Another idea is to have you guys as protectors, left behind to fight off magical/otherworldly foes and to keep the world safe? I'm up for whatever.

>>958730
Scifi ?

>>958730
Sci-Fi

>>958740
Yes.

Sci-Fi. Maybe we are the products of a destroyed race. Maybe a lost subtype of dwarves who had extreme intelligence and tinkering ability, kinda left now to find our own purpose since our masters are dead.

>>958718
>a clan of traveling bards collecting stories for the Fauns
I would have prefer that but homunculus won.

>>958745
Good thing not everyone here make bad choices !

There is really so few people here ? T_T

>>958748
>Good thing not everyone here make bad choices And dropped

>>958765
Don't be so mean.

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The earth is silent. Nothing moves. For centuries, there is nothing, nothing but the footsteps of newborn races a mile above, and the great stone and metal chamber lies empty. Then, there is light. After centuries, finally, there is a flicker of heat, and of movement. Great steel doors swing closed, and the sounds of a brass pipes filling with liquid resound. The ceaseless symphony of metal rings out for a long time, the bodies in their chambers growing warm.

The glass begins to fog with the breaths of the people, and the great blue veins of energy running through each chamber light up. The films of glass begin to rise, and the brass drains in the flooring open. The liquids suspending the bodies flow away, and a a troupe of spluttering breaths ring out. The strange bodies begin to rise, their pale, bluish flesh rising and falling in perfect time, and their bald headsmoving uncertainly in the cool air. Their organs, long withered in their tanks begin to reshape themselves, and the bodies grow used to walking once again.

Thirty Six chambers lie open, and thirty six bluish, half humanoid figures emerge, gasping through liquid at their first breaths before marching to positions they have never stood in and yet know to be theirs. The thirty six smarch out from the pipe filled stone hall of their birth, through a great corridor, over the rotten remains of old murals and over shimmering conduits of power. Their eyes, each one glossy black, stare straight ahead, and their strange, thin frames seem to glide as they walk.

The phalanx of Homunculi grasp at the air in one room, reaching out for armour stands, only to find them gone, long since rotten. A few stand dumbfounded, but the front row finds their equipment, shimmering suits of glassy armour, heavy shields that shimmer like brass, and long spearss, which whirr with heat and energy once they are grasped. The others gather their equipment, and before long the glimmering battalion has arrived at the great steel gate. Beyond it, feet thunder against the stone.

The Homunculi on the far back left of the phalanx runs off back into the stone corridor, tapping at a few digits on a console it has never seen before but recognizes nevertheless. The corridor hums for a moment, before great lights, too far away to see, click on. A strange, alien voice seems to speak from every direction.

"This Complex is compromised. All units assume defensive positions. AI Upload Core has been breached. All processing power transfered to Toiae units."

The formation blinks, a new intellect awakening within each of them. In thin, mechanical voices the front line announces orders to the other five lines, and the assembled units move into position. Shields are raised, and the great long spears are lowered. The gate begins to shudder.

> You are M.A.R.T.E.L. You do not know what that means. You feel everything these units feel, but still nothing. You are part of them, and yet separate.

>Protectors against otherworldly foes

Homunculus witchers please

>>958769
>>958765
Fauns would have been kickass. Just luck of the vote, unfortunately. I hope I can appeal to both of you.

I support some Homunculi Witchers, monster slayers for hire.

Let's make sure everyone is prepped for whatever is behind the gate and step to the front to assume command.

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You feel your hands, seventy two of them, moving as you order, and you feel each sheild overlap perfectly. Spears align through each rank, and any force charging through these doors will have to face the entire formation. A beastial roar rings out through the gate, and a thud of bone on metal fills the air. Then another, and finaly a third, as the hinges snap and the great gates fall. You need't even give the order to move, as the formaiton seems to seamlessly avoid the doors, marching backwards at a sprint without any real difficulty.

The foe is a monstrous being, of fat more than flesh, a gigantic beast with pallid flesh that you recognizes as Coryphantis Toroliam. In moments, you feel your mind fill with knowledge. The creature is pachyderm by nature, with two to six tusks on it's head, large eyes suited to the dark and a predatory nature. It's ferocious limbs carry it forward, with the formation parting in time to let it pass, before turning again to face it. You become aware, as more of the information on the creature streams into your collective mind, that it must move one of it's three eyelids to detect different light levels.

With such precise knowledge of the beast, it is simple to flick the lights on and off, forcing it to rapidly change the state of it's eyes, blinding it for long enough for the formation to rush in and stab at it's spongy flesh. You find that your understanding of the creature, while vast, could benefit from a sample. Out of interest, you use one of the minds of the homunculi to begin computing your entire record of information, while the rest of the units fall into a repeating subroutine of sallying forth and repeating.

You wield the force without much throught or effort, until you can hone down the process into nothing but a simple pattern. The creature is churned into a gory mess, slowly collapsing into a pile of it's own blood after ceaseless spear thrusts. You eagerly harvest samples of each of it's cell types.

You realize, to your dismay, that the information on the Coryphantis Toroliam is among the only record you currently possess. You have data, locked in archives, on several other creatures of this planet, along with a few plants and some basic data on the composition of the atmosphere, though you do not know what that is either.

You feel compelled to learn more. Beyond the gateway there is a vast cave, but beyond that you know nothing. You must learn. This is your directive. Take samples.

>You feel compelled to explore. There may be more equipment in the now abandoned complex behind you, and you doubt there will be any more chambers to produce homunculi outside of this place.

>Actions are a d20, attempting to acess records will be a 1d100, along with anything else MARTEL related.

Rolled 3 (1d20)

Lets go back into the facility and scavenge for equipment, see if we can reroute power back into the compound.

>>958803
+1

>>958794
Let's try and get to them papers with ink on them.

Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>958859
Oops

>>958873
time test