Topics

1

Stories / A treasure hunt, a home and a badger.

« on: October 23, 2021, 04:00:42 PM »

On a fine summer day, the world mine to be explored,
Soon though my mind bewitched, senses to be ignored,
All too soon the sun sets, sure on it's way.
However I remain lost as night takes over day.

I travel fast but without a thought,
Hunger sets in, at least there's no drought.
I come across a village with hopes for help,
I stumble on an adventurer who lets out a yelp.
A bear, a fight and lost family heirloom,
I head out after trading for a room.

Spruce forest with a pine mire to the east.
Soon enough I find the tracks of the beast.
Following the blood and items everywhere,
Axe brought back and treasure location to share.
Another search, another trip, the clues concurs,
Finally in the dawn, digging up jewelry and furs.

Why not call this island my new land?
Slowly a home is built right on the sand,
I harvest, slash and burn and plant and sow,
Nettles threshed and planted row on row,
A badger appears and mills around,
I build traps and set up about the beast's mound.

My new enemy takes my birds and hares,
Eating right from my lever traps and snares.
Dodging arrows and knives alike,
Even coming into my home and stealing my smoked pike.
So busy I was chasing my new foe,
My field burning spreading to my home, reaction slow.

As I stared at the burnt out husk, all my items lost to the kerfuffle,
I read in the bottom: "You hear a snuffle."

2

Solved'n'fixed bug reports / [Fixed - persists in 3.70] Nearly Midsummer and still too cold for everything

« on: October 23, 2021, 03:54:44 PM »

Hi, maybe it is the lack of global warming, or just a harsh cold year but it is currently Day 5 of 3th week before Midsummer Point...

And my world is still frozen over. I cannot till any soil, I cannot plant any crops and cannot ret any nettles.

I can peel bark from birches, wild nettles and other plants are growing, the ground is green...


 

3

Bug reports / Lonely Settler Spawning Next to a Village With Villagers Items in My Cabins

« on: December 31, 2020, 10:34:33 AM »

Win10 Steam Latest Version No Mods

If you chose a lonely settler start, and you spawn near a village, you can end up with villager items in the unfinished cabins.

I found this out from an Islander player through, starting in my own culture. I ended up with a bag of barley in my unfinished cabin. I took it thinking huh? In my inventory it said Taken. So when I visited the nearby village, they turned on me and drove me onto the ice where I died.

Trying to replicate it.

4

Off-topic / (Noire/Supernatural Story) Chapter 2 is up. Case of the Sun Wolf Cult

« on: December 30, 2020, 04:56:28 PM »

The Creevey Agency and the Case of the Sun Wolf Cult

Chapter 1

You won’t hear stories about me or some of the stuff I deal with. You can sit by any campfire in the land and hear endless stories about ghost women trying to hitch lifts, hunters who swear they saw something like foo fire while out in the woods. But no one who seen the real stuff would share it. When you see something you can’t explain, you refuse to, you hoard it, festering away in your mind. Some call it denial, but I think it is just the way we are wired up.

We like naming things; God gave us two legs, two arms and a whole heaping of curiosity and ego. Ego enough to say we can understand everything, we know everything about every single force on this earth. So, when we come across something we can’t name, can’t understand, our mind just skips over it, like a needle on a well-worn record.

I am not fool enough to say I know it all, or that I can name it all. My job isn’t to research or document it my job is to fix the issues people pay me to do. Day to day I am a private investigator. Most of my work is affairs, dead beat partners and divorce papers but once in a blue moon, someone, usually by word of mouth would knock on my door and they all say the same thing. “You gonna think I am crazy or lying but…” And I know to switch out my bullets from copper jacketed to silver.

My first case didn’t start like that, I was still working mostly taking pictures of affairs and branching into the amazing world of serving paternity paperwork on deadbeats. It was awful work, but it kept the lights on, and paid for the two rooms I rented above a shop. One was trussed up nice; no one would hire a man with no desk. The other was where I was living, a bedroll and hot plate were all I had. I had just finished up a case of cheating husband, a few days stalking and a few more taking photos and I had rent paid and even enough to buy food not on clearance.

The wife had just left the office with those glossy photos shoved in her purse. I had put my earnings in the safe and had already loosened my tie when he came in. Payment is subjective in this job. I don’t charge more than people looks like they can afford, usually. But this college aged kid, looked like he couldn’t even afford the bus ticket back to whatever basement he was squatting in.

I was tempted to snark him about how I already bought this year’s guide scout cookies and tell him to go home to mommy and daddy but this was the real world, being stupid like that can cost you jobs and reputation, somethings I had little of. Instead I put on a welcoming smile. “Good evening. How can the Creevey Agency help you today?”

In this line of work, you get your nutters, but they are obvious. They start off nuts and swerve straight into lunacy. The quickest cure is to ask for a deposit and it cures crazy faster than any pill. But this guy laid down five crumpled ten dollar bills he looked like he could ill afford. That bought my interest and out came the notebook. It was another prop, amazing what you can drag out of someone by just scrawling anything on paper. Once you start recording their words in any form, they suddenly become much more verbose. Besides I used it as an excuse to reach into my desk drawer and switch on my tape recorder. Sometimes the way someone say something, revealed more than their words.

I let him ramble on about his missing brother. All I could think was how you going pay me? I voiced it after the fourth time he told me how his brother was never like this. It turns out the whole distressed clothing look was because he had been saving up to pay me because from an equally battered backpack, he shook out money. It was mostly ones and fives still sticky from the bar he worked. I watched him as he scrambled to scoop it from the floor and under my desk in the effortless way fit young men have before you get old and getting up in the morning required stretching and mental preparation if you didn’t want to pull something.

I stared at the pile, my best guess that there was less than five hundred dollars in that pile not enough for a full missing person case unless I get real lucky but watching his wrist watch slide as he tried to stack it up for me, sold me. He had missed meals in hopes to save enough money to find his brother, more than he should and my bills were paid up for the next two weeks. “Okay… You got me, three weeks.” I told him. “Then we can discuss the rest of the payment.”

The word vomit started up again and halted with a hand raised. I had a feeling it was best to stop this before my tape ran out. “Look. It is simple. I am going to ask you a question and you are going to answer succinctly. You are a college boy; you should know what that means.” I set the rules firmly, to his credit he nodded. “Good. Now is there any reason at all you think he would avoid his family? A secret boyfriend? Girlfriend? Drugs? Gambling? Debts?”

Only once he left, I pulled out a fresh sheet and began to write up the file sheet while playing the tape over and over. Despite my misgivings, it wasn’t a liberal arts major heading off to discover themselves or more likely discover how many drugs they can shove in themselves before dying in a tepee in a muddy field.

The brother was going to an alright university on a scholarship. He was a biochemistry major apparently. A down to earth sort of guy working as a tutor even. A real pull yourself up by your bootstraps and hustle guy so when he just vanished, the family panicked. With him being gone with no word, the local cops just rubber stamped it. No body, no suicide note, no ominous message scrawled on the wall in blood. So, it just got shoved in a folder somewhere and ignored. The family was told to just wait, that he would run out of money or drugs and pop back up in hospital or rehab.

The family didn’t. The older brother dropped his life and moved to the city to try to look for his brother. Searching the campus during the day, talking to friends while bar tending the run-down campus bar in the evenings. He had given me a photo of them both from the last time they met up.  A shot of the pair, the older had the younger in a headlock. Them both laughing into the camera. Real cute and wholesome, no doubt a copy was hung up in their family hallway.

That made it difficult, the quiet normal types don’t get noticed. We don’t remember others for who they are, we remember them if they made us feel something. The ones who don’t say boo to a goose, who don’t inspire amusement, fear, lust or anything pass through life forgotten.  We are selfish like that. The young man in the photo, shying away from the camera, with his worn glasses and second-hand clothes looked like he would drift through life unnoticed by his peers except for the occasional bully. It was going to be a challenge to track this guy down.

5

Bug reports / If I try to talk to someone in a village, I fall asleep and then can select them

« on: June 27, 2020, 09:49:58 PM »

This is an odd one.

If there is a wounded adventurer in a village, but before you speak to someone you go to sleep, after you wake up and try to use Shift + C to chat to someone, you will fall asleep and get the message "You wake up to someone talking to you." Then you can select who you want to talk to. Every time.

This is fixed by quitting and reloading the game so I don't have a save file for this however I did save a screenshot of it. You can see how it saying "You wake up to someone talking to you." yet asking me to select whom to talk to.

6

Suggestions / Trapped Crippled Beings Are Too Good At Dodging.

« on: June 26, 2020, 07:46:46 PM »

I decided to do a seal hunter character. 6 seals so far and I had been using big dead fall traps and then finishing the seals off with a whack with my spear. (Grandmaster level skill in it.)

I decided to try kicking the beast and kept missing. Animals who have their limbs crushed and mangled. Those who are unable to move, with multiple fractures in their limbs and is currently buried under 10 14lb stones and 3 logs weighing 500lbs each are leaping out the way. I need to regularly drop my carry weight to under 20% to ensure I hit often.

I would like to ask, that the whole being crushed and crippled lowers their dodge ability more?

7

Guides and tutorials / How to Trap for Pleasure and Profit; A Rough Guide

« on: June 20, 2020, 06:17:27 PM »

This is a rough guide to trapping as well as is ongoing. Game mechanics are known to changes often and so does player knowledge base. As such I will be adding and editing as I go to improve the guide and keep it up to date. This guide doesn’t rely on trading, nets or fishing rods or even active hunting or murdering NPCs. This is how to survive on trapping alone. I would suggest as starting off as a trapper in Summer as the shovel is so much better than the wooden shovel.

The biggest thing about trapping is where you call your territory. The best spots are near lakes and rivers, they act as natural barriers and drive prey into the traps. The best location is tucked against a series of lakes, connected with land bridges.

There are 3 traps that is best for the early game. The most useful is the Light Lever Trap. It only costs a slender trunk, 2 branches and a stone. You will need a knife as well. It catches birds, hares, pine martens, polecats, foxes, weasels and probably more that I am forgetting.

The next is the Paw Board Trap which only costs a board. You will need an axe and knife. It catches Foxes; regular and arctic. It is cheap to make, unwanted ones can be traded or burnt. Foxes bring in 4-8lbs of meat and a valuable fur.

Finally, the Pit Trap. Most labour intensive and well as costs 3 slender trunks, 10 branches, 10 spruce twigs and you will need to dig a pit first with a shovel. This catches all the big game: bears, elk, reindeer, seals, wolves and boars.

Once you have found a location you are happy with, near a series of almost connected lakes or near a river, build yourself a shelter and a raft with paddle. Stack the raft with slender trunks, branches and twigs and stones. Paddle up and down your shelter square, building lever traps along the shoreline. I would suggest leaving 3-5 spaces between each trap. A good lake trap line will bring in many mallards and ducks. Great for early game food. Do this to all the shore fronts nearby. Check them every day or twice. You can get kills stolen from traps by foxes and goshawks. Use your raft to easily paddle to check them, plus you will scare lake and river birds into your traps.

Once you have a day’s food or two, start building your paw board traps. They will work without bait but not as well. The best location, I have found is open mires and ground tiles to snag foxes. It is easy to check all your traps without moving. I tend to place 7-10 in a rough circle and if I don’t have enough to bait them, I put one bait in the middle, at least as a draw to the trapping area. These should be checked once every 3-5 days.

Now the big earners, the pit traps. If you are near interconnecting lakes with land bridges, you have hit the gold mine. In the little ground between the two lakes, dig a few pit holes and make the traps. Place the fences so anything coming this way would follow the coast and fall into one of your pits. If you don’t have interconnecting lakes, just build one from the riverbank or lake bank out. I tend to do pit traps every 3 tiles. The only herd animals are reindeer, pigs and wolves and even if you catch all the herd then the meat or fur would spoil before you could process all 5-10 animals. I rather lessen the work and grab only 3 animals. I dig about 7 pit traps out, fence it and then leave it, checking as often I do for fox traps.

You can bait with berries, vegetables and meat. Early game when I do not have a sauna, if I get an early big game like elk and cannot eat it all, I only cook what I can eat, and the spoiled raw meat goes into fox traps.  Elk love turnips and will happily go into pit traps for one. Berries will drive birds into your lever traps. A smart trapper will set up their lever traps around or on a berry bush to draw game to it. Foxes like meat, they act like dogs and will not take spoiled cooked meat.

Seal trapping is more of a novelty than anything  is actually a great way to get early loot. You can trap seals in trap pits and big dead fall traps. The dead fall traps are worth setting up on skerries if you see seals in the area. Trap pits work too but needs to be dug in ground right on the shore.

To live as a Seal Trapper, all you need is a raft with some rope, logs and slender trunks and you can check the east coast tile by tile and live off of seals. I found I can trade 5-6 regular grey seal furs for a bag of salt, which you can then salt 210lb of meat with. In fall you can just dry the meat or if you have a smokehouse built you can smoke the meat. You get 20-175lb of meat depending on the size of the seal and type. Ringed seals are smaller than grey. It very much an active pastime but well worth it actually.

There is also living bait traps. There are people who use bought animals such as sheep as living bait, tying them to a tree and making a double ring of traps around the animal in order to tempt lynxes, wolves and bears into traps. I figure why risk your sheep when a smoked elk cut would do the same. Once a trap has triggered and the animal is dead, animals and NPCs can walk over them so with a wolf pack, the third wolf would get the sheep.

There are of course other traps in the game, the simplest is the snare. It costs 3ft of cord. I rarely use these as require cordage, which early game I rarely have and later game, when I have cordage to spare, I am onto trap pits and have lever traps already set up.

Small and big deadfall traps cost more than light lever traps and require tying equipment. The small deadfall traps may catch badgers and gluttons but they are rare. I usually set these around cellars and dog feeding zones to stop scavengers such as them and foxes. Big dead fall traps catch what small dead falls do and lynxes and wolves which are rare once again. I would use them if I see tracks of those around or see them on the map but I wouldn’t make them otherwise as if they are triggered, they often kill the animal outright meaning you only have a few days to recover the bodies versus  up to a week in Pitfalls. You can use withes for these which lower the "cost" of building.

Heavy Dead Fall Bear Traps catch the same animals as Pitfalls but doesn’t need a hole. They do work with fences as well.  They do require tying equipment which makes them for mid game or working on over winter when the ground is too frozen to dig.

There is some ritual based things you can do regarding traps. When you bait a Bear Dead Fall Trap, do so naked to increase your chances to get a bear in it. Fox traps should be baited in the evening to increase chances. Another one is to leave fox traps in a doorway so women walk over them. (Anyone tested if female player characters count?) For snaring hares, wear mittens preferably woolen ones to increase chances.

I stress that this is a rough guide; you might find that you do better with snares or maybe deadfalls but I  just wanted to provide a little guidance to trapping and how to live off it.

Good luck and happy trapping.

8

Bug reports / A village but not a village?

« on: June 19, 2020, 04:35:31 PM »

I found a village. Entered. And instead of the header saying Village or settlement, it says ground. There is a pen of reindeer however I cannot buy one, all the NPC's don't have the option to buy an animal. On the overview map, the village icon is gone just a pile of shelter, kota, NPC and reindeer icons.












I cannot leash a reindeer, I haven't tried stealing or deconstructing a building.

9

General Discussion / A Hunting Goshawk

« on: June 18, 2020, 11:37:23 AM »

I woke up to strange noises and it turns out to be a hunting Goshawk.

I know some people never seen it before so I thought I would share.

Poor mallard...






Victory!

10

General Discussion / Why does the stupid throwaway characters live the longest?

« on: June 16, 2020, 11:24:16 AM »

Hey all,

Anyone else find this?

You create a character carefully, choosing a play style, a back story, desires and personality. You research the perfect Finnish name... And go into the world and.... Died at 16 winters old, having spent 30 days of adventuring life. Lucky Robbers or bear or wolf...

Meanwhile Potaaaaaaaato man is currently random build and living his best life of 3 years+.

 

11

Stories / Jutta's Tales: The Story Teller. (A URW Horror Story.)

« on: June 11, 2020, 09:06:18 AM »

The men and women were busy getting ready for the seal hunts. Every year, the young men of village all go away for a month to hunt the beasts. From the window I could see each of the teams of four men standing by their large canoe, full of supplies. Hopefully by the end of the season, they would all come home with the canoes, stuffed full of meat, bones, fat and skins for the women to process.

I could hear the Sage solemnly chanting, a handful of herbs smouldering away as he used it to draw runes on each of the boats, protecting the men from angry spirits while they hunted. I was too old to hunt now; seal hunting was a game for young men. The month was a true test of manhood and I could see several of the older children I was watching, sulking; their mother's deeming them too young to go.

I was left in charge of the children, to keep these young men from sneaking off to join the hunt and to keep the children busy as the adults prepared so I turned to what I did best; I started a story, one told to me by Jutta, of her brother actually and his run in with a spirit while hunting.

In the Owl Tribes, they didn't hunt seals but instead the reindeer. Just like us, the men would go off in groups to hunt the herds as they moved from the northern lands they bred and calved in, to the south, to fatten on the ripe berries and grasses, peeking up from the snow during the summer.

The Tribe Sage has announced the season had started and the forest was ready to release some reindeer to them. Jutta's brother, Veli was often chosen to go on these hunts, not because he was a good shot with spear or bow, or even that strong but because he was a storyteller. A good storyteller could sit by a fire and his words could distract them from the aching of their bodies from walking for miles, from the tough dried meat that was dinner and the cold dark forest that surrounded them. When night fell there was nothing but to do, except eat, talk and sleep. The men carried as little as possible with them to ensure they could carry as much meat and fur back with them. To carry whittling tools or instruments to amuse themselves were considered selfish. The meat and furs would be shared between them all and if someone didn't carry a fair load, it was stealing warmth from their beds, and food from their children's mouths.

Veli knew he was the weakest one and became the camp tender, ensuring the fire was lit and there was clean freshly boiled snow in the pot for the men to drink. He made up the stew from dried meats in a pot over the fire for them all. He didn't begrudge his work as this time his group was made up of two friends, Onni and Topi. All three had been friends for many years and if it wasn't for the last of the group, Olavi, it would have been a great time.

Olavi was only son of a village leader and deemed his father's position was his position. His father's earned respect and wisdom was his too. He had joined the group solely on the fact that the Sage had 'seen' a great Reindeer Stag in his dreams, an unusual coloured one, splotches of white and black on it. The Sage was uncertain what it meant; a white stag meant good fortune, pleased spirits but a black one, meant ruin, unlucky. Olavi believed it meant the Stag was out there to hunt. Such a skin would turn many a head, the hunter would be part of many a story and poem for bringing back such a fine thing. In fact it might be good enough to impress a maiden he had his eye on.

So after much begging of his father, Olavi went on his first hunt with Veli and friends. To someone who had never travelled far, the days of walking was hard for Olavi, and the complaints of walking for days was hard on the others. By evening of day three, the group were stressed and settled down to make camp in a grove. Veli made started the fire as the others cleared scrub away and built the shelters.

Night fell soon and the men gathered silent for once around the fire, waiting for Veli to finish the food. The men almost jumped out their skins as they heard footsteps approach in the dark. The men's hands shifted to their weapons only to see a woodsman of sorts approach the fire. “Well met.” Veli greeted him.

The man lifted a hand in greeting. “May I join you?” He asked.

Olavi opened his mouth to speak but Onni beat him to it. “Of course.” He shifted on the log. “In nights like these, it would be rude to dismiss company.”

Now closer to the fire, Veli could see the man properly. He looked old, in the flickering fire light. Dressed in deer skin clothing, his long silver beard and hair, scraggly. His hands were filthy as he took the bowl of food Veli offered. Manners dictated the guest ate first. The old man did so greedily slurping at the stew.


Before Veli handed the rest of the food out, the old man had finished and held his bowl out for more. Veli refilled it, leaving himself only a little. He ate his own slowly watching the old man who pretty much licked the bowl clean. The old man broke the silence first, placing his bowl down. “After that fine food, let us tell stories. I think you might have a good one.” He pointed to Topi who startled.

“... Okay? I am not much of a storyteller!” He told him sagely. “But... I do have one.” Topi began a tale of his brother and his first fishing trip. “And that's how I ended up with two fishing hooks in thumb...” He told the group the misadventure, causing the others to laugh.

“Two?” Onni gasped between laughter.

“I tried to get the first fishing hook one out with a second!” He retorted, breaking into laughter himself.

The old man was snorting his amusement, tossing his head in laughter. Veli turned to see Olavi staring at the men, stony face. “Not that funny.” Olavi shrugged, determined to sour the evening.

The air picked up for a second and Veli glanced at the old man and felt that off feeling. The old man turned and winked at Veli, seemingly knowing his thoughts. Veli looked away quickly as the old man pointed at Onni. “Your turn.”

Veli knew Onni never told stories. He said he lived too simple life, but he saw him almost bewitched, compelled to tell a story and he did. One from his father. “Drunk on mead the night before his wedding ceremony, he saw a squirrel walk up to him. He thought it was a Spirit trying to bless him. So, he held out his hand and the squirrel instead scampered up him and stole the dowry of a bronze comb, running off with it!” He snorted. “He turns to my mother and told her what happened and she... she said, 'I'll be a squirrel's daughter then!'”

The air was full of laughter again except for Olavi who sniffed and spat into the fire, breaking the mood. “Your father was a buffoon.” He sneered. “We should go to bed soon.” He glared at the old man who looked back baleful.

Veli felt the forest fall silent with his words. Something running through him. The story jarred something in his brain, and he lifted his hand to cover his right eye, as he looked with his left, he saw the old man turn. No longer an old man but instead a black and white reindeer staring at him smiling. Again, a wink. “Who’s left.” The reindeer said. Veli blinked and removed his hand, the image of the reindeer gone, the old man was back.

Topi looked at Veli. “Our best storyteller, that is who!” He preened on his behalf. “Veli is the best storyteller in our village.”

Veli looked away, not ashamed but shy. “No guys, come on.” He tried.

The old man tutted. “False modesty is far uglier than truthful pride.”

Veli paused and nodded, not wanting to upset the forest spirit and sat up. He racked his brains looking for the best of his stories and picked one. The most requested an epic about a strong fighter.

He finished to applause from most of the group apart from Olavi who stood up obviously annoyed. “I am tired of this. You may spend all night entertaining a smelly old man, but I want to be up in the morning to finish this stupid hunt. I am sick of made up stories and tales.” His anger apparent but not as apparent as the old man.

No longer wearing the costume of the old man, the reindeer walked on two legs, like man but stood far taller. The being stalked towards Olavi who didn't notice until the shadow of the spirit fell on him and he fell silent. The old man's voice was quiet but carried. “Made up stories and tales?” The being asked. “It is my turn to tell you a story.” He grabbed the scared human. The others were frozen in their seats, almost bewitched as the Spirit bent low, murmuring too quiet in Olavi's ear. Finally, he released the quivering human who fled as quick as he could.

The being turned around and gave them a bow. “I enjoyed your tales, men. May your next hunt be well.” The being blessed them and walked off into the darkness too.

They couldn't find Olavi until sunrise, the man had climbed on top of a hill and clung there like a squirrel. His dark hair now white. It took longer to return home, Olavi silent and refusing to tell them what the spirit had said. The others fell silent too, not speaking to the others about what happened, only that Olavi had a terrible fright.

Olavi was never the same again, refusing to leave the village even to court the pretty maiden he had desired before. He had seemingly been broken by the Spirit's words. Worse still he developed a fear of water, even having to be forced to wash by his own mother.

Veli came across Olavi one night, deep into his mead which he lapped from shallow dishes like a dog. He was drunk enough to swing for Veli, the mead made him slow and Veli easily dodged. Olavi turned to sway as he cried. “It is your fault! If you didn't tell stories!” He shouted. “He wouldn't have told me!” He sat back now, too drunk to stand.

Veli couldn't stop himself. “Told you what?” The words he didn't hear was plaguing him, he thought often of the spirit. It was hard not too with Olavi drifting through the village just like a spirit himself with his wide haunted eyes and white hair.

Olavi sobbed. “He told me, a true story, my story.” He looked at the dish in his hand and threw it. “He told me my life, everything. Even stuff no one else knew!” He covered his face with his hands. “Like I broke the fence that let the reindeer out as a kid.” He admitted. “I didn't mean to!” He begged Veli. “You believe me, right?”

Veli just nodded. They had lost their best does that night, costing the village a fortune to replace and they still struggled in winter to this day because of it.

Olavi continued. “It wasn't just my past, but my future.  He told me all of this. Everything he said came true. But he also told me my death. That I would die... drowning.” He shuddered.

Veli sat back shocked. “How?” They lived in a land locked land, the only well was tiny. “Surely it cannot be true.”

Olavi opened his mouth to respond but his father had walked in, to drag his drunken son to bed.

Veli watched him leave, feeling guilty for not warning the others, what he had seen. He made offerings for the spirits. Maybe Olavi would find peace soon. He went to bed only to wake to a wailing from outside.

He ran out in just his under-things as he watched the leaders carry Olavi out, dead. He caught whispers of the crowd. Dead, drown in the family's rainwater barrel. Must have gotten up for a drink during the night and fell in.

Veli turned around to get dressed and see if he could help the family when he saw in the tree line a large black and white reindeer. The being saw him and gave him a wink before it walked off back into the forest on its’ hind legs.

12

Suggestions / Dog's Priority List for Food

« on: June 04, 2020, 06:31:21 PM »

Could the priority for feed for dogs to be changed slightly?

I don't know if this is a bug or a suggestion.

It is winter, my pack of dogs wake me with barking and I go out to see one of my fox traps had an Arctic fox caught in it, alive. I am happy, winter arctic fox fur! I leave the dogs to eat their bones, raw meat, spoiled raw meat etc scattered in piles between the traps.

I kick the beast dead. I was exhausted. I need to wait to be less tired to skin it. Only in the minutes I rested, the dogs had eaten the entire fox. Leaving just bones. Valuable fur gone.

I don't know why they ate it first? I had other meat already game tiles away, all cut up, spoiled and fresh even piles of bones, all spread out in many piles. I would have thought they would go for the easier food.

Just miffed at loosing a superior winter arctic fox fur.

13

Off-topic / What are you eating today?

« on: June 04, 2020, 12:55:49 PM »

Something light hearted and silly for the forum to answer.

Maybe we will learn new recipes and about culinary cultures.

So URW'ers what are you eating today?

I baked a crust-less egg tart thing? It is made with eggs, cheese, potatoes, onions and seasoning. It is something I make and freeze the other portions.

I added red pepper hummus and salad.

14

Not bugs / [not a bug - debatable mechanics] Bear Traps aren't nothing for villagers

« on: May 27, 2020, 04:16:44 PM »

Villagers can walk through bear traps. I believe they do fall to trap pits however.



Tragic as I worked hard on those.

15

Stories / Jutta's Tales: The Bog Mother. (A URW Horror Story.)

« on: May 26, 2020, 09:12:49 PM »

Hi, I want to try something different. Instead of a character story, I tried to write a horror story based in the URW. There might be more. I think Jutta has a few stories to tell.

This is a little dark, and based on true things.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jutta was my mother's mother. She came from the far north, away from the coast we call home now. Mother told me that she came from the Owl Tribe, before settling down with her husband, a Seal Tribe man in his homeland, our homeland. He had been killed before I was born and Jutta had moved in with us. Father, was a Seal Tribe man through and through, and didn't like Jutta. On good days, he said she had the touch of the Spirits. On his bad days, he would say she drank too much of them instead.

But she seemed so ancient, so wise to me, I was just a little boy at the time. I took her word as law much to my practical father's annoyance. I was forever panicking over spilled salt, casting the expensive substance over my shoulders, refusing to whistle indoors for our dogs and all sorts of old Spirit ways. It seemed for beings who didn't care for humans, they certainly cared a lot about all sorts of things we do according to Jutta.
 
Even though it has been many long winters since she left us, I still remember her sitting in front of the hearth. A broken net over her lap, her curled and swollen fingers deftly passing the bone shuttle needle through the cords, stitching it. The little clicks of bone, almost lost with the wind whirring past the window, sending snow against the sides of the cabin we were in.

My job was to hold the lengths of cord taut as she worked. An important job she always told me. Fixing Father's fishing nets was my favourite job, not just because I get to stay in the warmth, curled against Jutta's leg, but because Jutta would tell me stories.

Now I sit in front of the fire now, my children's children around me, watching me whittle, I still remember her stories or was they more warnings? I clear my throat, the children looked up expectantly. They were waiting for the next tale, as I did when I was their age. The wind howled and made them jump and look around skittish like deer and I smiled. “Have you ever heard the Bog Mother?” I started, echoing Jutta's words from so many moons ago...

Winters on the coast are cold but with the sea air keeping the worst of the snow out, it is nothing like the far north. There was a village that was on the tip of the world it seemed, so far north and so cold. But nothing was colder than the people.

Hunger and death was a constant companion to the people,  Nothing would grow in the stony frozen soil for most of the year. The kept reindeer was scraggly starving beasts but the people made do. Yet they didn't move on. Some say they were cursed, banished to the far frozen north for some evil deeds, land and bloodlines cursed. All I say is that when the milk of a doe was ending, they often mixed it with the does' blood, bleeding the beast slowly keeping it alive and the hot blood mixed in with the thinning milk was their favourite treat.

In the leaner years, when the villagers, deep into the dark months felt their stomachs ache with hunger, what little food there was, was shared out to the village hunters, trappers and crafters first. The men eating what they could as they needed to find more. The scraps was given to the womenfolk to pick whatever they could from the lean bones, breaking them for marrow like starving wolves. Whatever, if ever, anything was left it was scraped into the pot and boiled, the thin soup dished out to the elderly.

There was one year though, it seemed the Spirits was plaguing the village, traps were sprung but lay empty and half the reindeer does lost their calf, the other half just didn't carry. The villagers already was gaunt from one bad winter but a worst spring? Followed by a tragic summer since the hunters was bringing barely any food in, just enough to keep them all from dying.

The Summer Solstice brought the village leaders and the Sage, to the middle of the village. The old Sage, was barely able to stand but still chanted and cast a few bones into the fire and watched them burn. A sharp snap from the bones made him fall back. “A bad winter!” Was declared, the omens black.

Worry filled the village far faster than food in the stores. Was it worse to die slow starvation or quick? People muttered as they walked past the storerooms again and again, looking at the small amount of food as if it would change.

In the midst of summer, a young outsider housewife, who married into the Tribe but a year ago gave birth. The first one in many years. However births was not celebrated like yours. They marked another mouth to feed, another drain on scarce supplies they had. The other women, the ones who hasn't bared in years talked in hushed tones about it, how not right it was, how did she bare when even the does were barren. Even the Sage couldn't answer. The babe, seemed not quite right; small, pale and silent. The Tribe women whispered about it, how it wouldn't survive the night.

Summer ended, and so did Autumn, the hunger and whispers grew as the child survived. Curses, and promises with Spirits was muttered, why else this year was so barren when the mother wasn't so? Didn't all the trouble start when she arrived?

When winter began to creep into the village, one of the village women who lost her only child years ago began to tell the others about the unnatural sickly looking child who had weaned. Eating food. Even though it wouldn't survive till Spring. A waste. It's portion of food could feed her husband who brought that seal in. At the start of winter, it was just hot words in the cold air but as winter continued, and the hunger sank deeper in their bones, she wasn't the only one saying it any more.

Winter is bad time to get a head full of bad ideas. No one had the energy to shake them off or think, all they kept hearing is how they could get more food for them, for their family. The mother hid herself and her son away, while her husband a crafter, unskilled was low in the village so kept quiet. He was already distrusted for marrying outside the Tribe. So he wasn't told when the leaders went to have a meeting on a nearby hill, out of eyeshot and earshot of the village.

Hunger was a desperate beast that day, it's growls echoing in all the leaders' stomachs, the wicked anger clawing through them as they decided. In the older times, in leaner times, ones they thought they had passed, they would send the elderly off, into the woods with no supplies. One less mouth to feed. The outsider's child should be banished first, not one of the elderly. It was decided in harsh but quiet tones.

They waited till the next full moon on the solstice, the Sage had said it would be best. The Spirits could snatch up the child before it's soul was left to howling void. The next words was heavy on his tongue, blood ritual offering are best on the solstice. One of the leaders jumped in his skin and admonished the man for his crude words. Blood rituals hadn't been done in generations, though they still drained the does when hunger set in.

The mother found out only when the Sage knocked on the door of their cabin as night fell that evening. The leaders were just behind and with a glance into their solemn gaunt faces, she knew what they were here for. She screamed, cried as her husband held her. She tried offering them anything but her son. Food, valuables but in the end she offered her life up. Surely an adult's portion was far greater than what a babe would eat?

The leaders accepted it with a jerky nod. Better on their soul, a woman give herself up then condemn an infant. She followed them out into the night, each of the men holding a burning torch, the guttering flickering lights surrounding her leading her deep into the marsh. The frozen ground crunching under her leather boots. She was sobbing to herself, the icy cold night freezing the tears on her face. The moon came out from behind a cloud, bathing them in the silvery light. She was handed a torch and ordered to walk away into the bog away from the village, away from her child, sobbing.

The babe didn't survive long, neither did the husband who followed within a week. The woman was never seen again, but she was heard. The next full moon, an eerie call came from the bog. The village's best hunter grabbed his bow and arrow and crept out. He was shaking as the cold wind blew across him and a thin woman's sob drifted over him. He raised his bow and arrow thinking the outsider had returned, but there was nothing. He approached slowly and carefully thinking she must have been hiding behind a tree. He scurried home terrified.

Again, the next full moon, the sobbing was closer now, the edge of the marsh now. The leaders gathered up as many men as he could arm, and marched them out to see what was happening. He heard the thin sobs and spun around, the noise seemingly surrounded them. They scattered, fleeing in haste away from the painful wretched sobs.

They thought they were safe in the village, the cries moon after moon, never left the bog. The village learnt to live with it, the Sage drumming on full moons to banish the evil and stop the sobs. Maybe it was that, and not the offering which made the game plentiful, the traps full and the nets bursting with food. The village recovered even, the next winter easy to get through, even the bog was silent. Years past, the old Sage passing on, and drumming stopped. It was waking up the children who soon filled  the yards of the village, horrors forgotten.

It was after that winter solstice, when the children first mentioned her. The Bog Mother. The lady in the marsh, who called to them to play who promised them that she would be their mother. The children told the adults fled, all of them except one. One who had argued with his mother that morning, one who didn't know the dangers of the bog, one they found the body of face down in the mud, dead. They told the children never to play near the bog, to ignore any voices, any lights.

It didn't stop there, a child woke up next full moon to a voice outside his window, calling for him. His brother sleepily awoke to see the boy leave the room and never return. Another child, and another, soon they were gone. The village died out but they still say she is out there, the Bog Mother, looking for her child every winter. If you sit quietly you can still hear her calling, or sobbing for her child she lost.

I finish my story and look at the spell bound children, just then the wind blew past the window, a thin almost wail, sending the children to tears and screams. You know, it did almost sound like a distraught woman calling out.