Wandering Agent
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Elevation of Mana Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2022-10-14 23:52:48 +0000 UTCIt's been about a week in this new world. For a new world it could only possibly be.
There is some evidence of this, first is that everyone's ears are elongated into points. That alone, was enough for me, because there weren't elves back where I was from. As I looked about at the many, many elven women in the circle around I couldn't help but think how many people would have loved this chance.
Not everything was ideal of course. I was stuck as a baby for now, and severely hoping that wouldn't be the case for decades as I grew up. I knew the stories from back home said that elves lived for like, ever, but they grew up normally right? Being a baby was no fun, none at all. I could barely move, and speech was limited to various forms of crying. The diet, while some would see as a bonus, was uncomfortable for me, and very, very plain. Milk morning, noon, and night, and all times in-between. I couldn't even use the restroom on my own.
It was hard to tell, but I was pretty sure that I was also somewhere in the stone age. I'd seen no sparkle of metal at all so far to indicate anything greater. The tools were mostly shaped rocks and wood, with a bit of bone here and there for variety. There were no pots, nor pans, nor knives that weren't stone. Baskets were popular with the women, and I could see them all around me weaving in the evenings.
An anthropologist would probably give his right arm to be where I was right now, but sadly that wasn't me. I had concerns, big concerns. There was no tech here, no computers, no well... anything. This was a tribe, small, perhaps a couple hundred, it was kind of hard for me to tell. Other than some clearly sew clothes and things like bone or wooden flutes the biggest work on things seemed to be coming from the man who looked to be my father.
Dad, as I would now be calling him, spent his evenings with a piece of lather draped over his leg knapping flint. He sang as he moved the bit of stone around in his hand, tapping in place after place and sending little flakes of it down to the ground around him. He knew his business, and could turn out things like arrowheads or spearheads faster than I would have thought physically possible. Each was a perfect little shape, the points seeming almost artistically done.
As he sang I could see a bit of a flow around him. A bluish sort of mist that ebbed and eddied coming off in small waves. I suspected this was some form of magic, but couldn't be a hundred percent sure. My thoughts kept going to how sometimes the stone seemed to meld a bit in his hands, changing to just the way he wanted, or smooth just a bit too perfectly.
He wasn't the only one to have such a phenomenon. There were two or three who had something similar going on much like him. Of note was one of the women who had a growing white streak in her black hair. I couldn't yet understand the words that everyone was using, but it was clear as day that she was a person of respect in this tribe. Several of the women were near her, and the few times I'd seen men coming back from hunting trips she'd always been offered something personally by them.
Along with the white-streaked woman was a man who seemed to lead the hunters. He and father often sat near each other, and while my dad was a bit scrawnyer than most this guy was ripped. I'd seen him and dad trading the arrowheads for meat, and while they were different they acted like the oldest of pals. He moved like water flowing between the stones and it was clear that a number of the women in the group rather fancied him. I hadn't seen him too interested in most of them yet, but maybe he was biding his time.
Then there was my mother. Mom frankly kind of scared me, not because she did anything violent, but because of the way people reacted to her. If the white-streaked woman had been respected mom was downright feared. She spoke softly most of the time, not bossing or ordering anything, but when she spoke, people listened. When words left mom's mouth those from others stopped, and if there was a disagreement and she spoke, it ended. She and the white-streaked woman were clearly the powerhouses when in the camp.
Finally there was me. All around my skin played tiny green bubbles, floating and hovering just at the edge of my view. I could tune them out most of the time if I wanted, but when I looked, they were there. The others who had always on phenomenon had seemed giddy in my first few days of life, always coming by to play with them. It was important somehow, but I wasn't yet sure how. It did clue me in on the fact that they could see my bubbles though, much as I could see the various things going on around them.
As for the other members of the tribe. Sometimes I would get little flashes of light from them, but nothing sustained. This normally accompanied some kind of odd behavior in the world, lending credence to my theory of magic. Perhaps a fire would light suddenly, or a rock would be thrown perfectly straight at a bird. One guy had even shown the ability to perfectly straighten a piece of wood using only his hands. That was a neat trick, limited usefulness, but very neat.
Our accommodations, such as they were, consisted of a woven, dirt floor... hut? It was not a perfect descriptor, as it seemed to be made of living interwoven branches and vines, but hut was probably the best. It was maybe twenty feet in diameter and shared by several other couples, and one other child. There was no fire pit or anything, those were all in a little communal area in the center of the settlement. Everyone just slept here on piles of leaves, branches, and a few furs. I was placed in a little basket for the night in a bit of a change, but it too was just lined with moss and soft plant life.
Morning broke and my new mother came to get me. She was dressed much as she always was, in a brief leather outfit that when done up covered her and provided at least some level of support. My father wore something similar, as did most of the other members of our little tribe. it wasn't much, but looked functional and easy to deal with. The sewing was prim and exact, clean lines that had been put together one by one into the simple shapes of the garments. There was no cloth as such though, all leather.
As I looked at the various patterns to the make of clothing I began to think about all the other decorations. While food seemed hardly an issue here there was a great quantity of what could only be considered art. Tools, stone as they were, had intricately carved wooden handles, geometric patterns or clear animal motifs. The baskets that were ubiquitous for various things all seemed carefully shaped, with color gradients to them and even some simple patterns here and there. Then there were the beads.
Pretty much everyone in the tribe was wearing some quantity and quality of beads. The men had fewer, normally only woven into their hair in places, or a couple of strands, but for the women... It was like some kind of strange contest. Though I lacked the ability to understand much of what was being said, it was clear that these were some kind of marking of status. Brighter colored, or more intricate beads were more valuable, as were those with odd properties or materials.
Like most things, mother seemed to be winning. While many of the women in the tribe were wearing wooden or bone beads simply carved and rather plain, hers were different. Most of mothers strands had carved stone beads of bright colors. She also had a very few carved from what could only be shell, the slight luster of pearl shining bright. The only person in our tribe to beat her, and soundly so, was white-streak, who was decked out three ways from Sunday.
In fact most of the women from our little cohort were decked out in comparison to their peers. Even the men outshone some of the less decorated women. It sufficed to say that by whatever standard stone-age elves held, we were rich, really rich. The products in our little group were nicer than most, and though it was hard to tell, I thought we were even getting more meat, the only foodstuff that seemed to have much in the way of value.
Dad decidedly had something to do with this. His worked stone blades and points were sought after, and I suspected that when he got a mind to he probably carved a lot of those trinkets mom was wearing. Which made sense, a good stone-knapper in this society would be a cornerstone of any group.
As mom went to put on her basket/backpack I was handed off to who I assumed to be one of my aunts. She looked almost exactly like my mother, and they spent much of their day together. Said aunt had no children of her own, at least not that I saw, but that only meant that she doted on me like any relative would on a cute baby, playing peek-a-boo and making faces as she held me. It was kind of adorable, and I wondered what we'd be doing today as I saw the many women gathering their things up. While whatever it was might not be my chosen activity, I was sure to learn something, and perhaps even pick up a few words.
A/N: I skipped a few days here because I thought it would go best, but I will be referencing his initial reactions to the world later on. It just felt like the right way to go.
Comments
angie bell
ah, the childhood memories and how simple it was, or was it? I wonder if tribes raid each other or do kidnappings for resources?
Mike G.
I feel like given where the main storyline found him, this story is going to be a long game of Civ. Fortunately, I like Civ :)
Greg S
Thanks for the chapter.
