Moyadim tribes

Moyadim tribes is a collection of books written by Havar Scjaldsar that tells the tale of the Moyadim people based on their oral tradition observed in a Moyadim colony. Its first volume, Early History, was released in .
= Moyadim tribes =
== Book one: Early history ==
=== Prolog ===
Hello and greetings friends, I Havar Scjaldsar author of this book and keeper of the fallen library am proud to present the first edition detailing my research from my time in a Moyadim colony. To my knowledge I am the first to tell the tale of the Moyadim people, at least the first who made it out alive that is. It has been quite the journey these last few years translating the oral tales of their chieftains and elders into something of a comprehensive work, but I dare say I have done them justice. Enjoy this first edition in my journey to understand these elusive and secretive people. 
==== Disclaimer ====
The first chapter of 'Moyadim: Early History' has been recovered from ancient records and legends sourced from the folk living nearby the Moyadim colony I visited. Everything from chapter two and beyond has been translated and slightly modified from oral telling's straight from Moyadim elders, though like all purely oral history it may be flawed.
=== Chapter 1: Origins ===
Long ago a lone tribe know as the Moyadim wandered the sands, they were prolific alchemists obsessed with creation and discovery using their alchemical processes. As they traveled the sands moving their camp from oasis to oasis they would bring with them their most sacred tools, vials filled with alchemical solutions for their needs in the desert, they would pour just a drop of these vials into the oasis they were camped at and life would spring up all around them seemingly overnight. When the Moyadim awoke berries and moss covered the sands surrounding them, and so they would harvest what they could and move on. Without the alchemical fluids to keep the growths alive the oasis would in a few days time shrink back to their former size.
The Moyadim lived like this for centuries experimenting and creating more potent alchemical solutions to grow their tribe and support greater numbers to shy away from hardship. Though as they traveled across the dunes they eventually circled back to the first oasis they influenced with their alchemical process, it was barren the water was dried up and green glowing scars were left in its place. This was concerning to the tribal elders but they persisted knowing that surely the next oasis would hold the water they needed. 
Yet when they approached the next Oasis it too had emptied, the vegetation dead and dying. The same scars in the ground. They ventured out again and again until their numbers shrank, once numbering in the hundreds the thriving tribe was reduced to a band of vagabonds, their sacred alchemical solutions stored in their wagons they reached yet another destroyed oasis, the eight that remained knew exactly what had come to pass. They had taken too much and stripped the desert of even its last strongholds of life the alchemical processes they employed had taken as they had given, and so they stopped wandering, they accepted their fate was to die at the hands of the sweltering sun and empty stomach. All but one slowly passed that very night, Mastad stood in the cold of the desert night, stood truly alone for the first time in his life and it drove him to madness.
Mastad, once a simple apprentice to an alchemical mage now the last of the Moyadim. His mind raced his heart beat quickened and the desert hit his face with its sharp winds, he fell to one knee crying out pleading for this nightmare to end. He had maddening visions, saw his ancestors holding the first beginnings of alchemical flame, watched as they engulfed the world in it. He rushed to the covered wagons of his last remaing comrades only to find all of them had passed in the night. He would not, could not accept this. The Moyadim could not leave this plane in such disgrace, they were not simple desert rats to die as the world decrees he knew they were destined for so much more in all his delusion he truly believed it, and so he began his great labor. He would save his people. He brought the carts full of their sacred alchemical fires and solutions to the pit that formerly held the oasis’s water, he saw the scars left by its passing the corrosive green glow emanating from scars in the earth. He raised a wooden mallet, formerly used to erect tents by driving nails to the ground and broke the vase in the cart. The sacred solutions slowly flowed into the pit and began to fill it.
All night he labored emptying all the Moyadim had made, generations of experiments and as much of their “lifegiving” solution as he could find. When the sun rose, his hands were bloodied with shards of clay stuck in them, he stood, for the first time in months he smiled. As he had seen in his visions of madness he took the corpses of his friends, the last eight of the Moyadim and he threw them into the soup of bubbling churning alchemical solutions, he watched as it seemingly swallowed them whole and so he waded into the former pit, now a pool of bubbling glowing liquids.
He felt his legs begin to burn, he felt the flesh fall from bone and collapsed to his knees, and he laughed for he knew it was good. He sunk deeper and deeper into the pool falling into lifelessness until all was gone. The people known as the Moyadim were gone, destroyed by their hubris and doomed by pride.
Many years passed and the Moyadim passed into memory a whisper on the sands, new tribes rose, and life returned to the sands. The alchemical oasis pool had seeped into earth falling into a great cavern and forming a pool at its center. Over many years life began sprouting all over the cave, moss grew on the cavern floors, vines and berries hung from its roof, the plants in the cave lived in symbiosis with the pool, the sheer amount of alchemical fluids  sustaining the entire ecosystem while the berries handing from the cave roof dropped into the solution, they would be digested by it and slowly the “soup” became more organic then alchemical, a perfect cycle keeping the cave and alchemical pool alive. Though the Moyadim’s influence was not gone, in the now mostly organic pool human genomes lingered from the eight that died on that fateful night, as the pool become more and more organic overtime, so as it was designed to it influenced all it touched and caused rapid growth, now having enough organic material within itself to use bits of the human genome and create life.
The pool thickened and gathered masses of its collected organics began to clump together, torso, arms, legs, head over a week they developed. Though the new beings were imperfect when they emerged, their bodies made of hardened moss and other things the soup had absorbed, the last bits of the human material came together in their eyes and innards breathing life into the plant like husks. The Moyadim were born again. 
=== Chapter 2: The first tribes ===
When the first Moyadim emerged, they were animalistic in nature, hunger and greed were all they knew, and it would become the basis of their existence for years they struggled to survive in the caves. Their language was basic, scraps of what the humans that melted into the pool long ago once knew. Each of them hoarding whatever food they could find leading to cycles of starvation where few held massive hordes of food. Maktug at the time a common Moyadim scavenger suffered much under this cycle, he knew hunger and hunger only food becoming an uncommon blessing. Maktug knew that he was not long for this world, and with nothing to lose approached Vasoot a known hoarder of berries. Maktug knew Vasoot was filled with greed, just as all Moyadim were, so he made his proposition. Maktug groveled at Vasoot’s feet, revered him as the greatest hoarder in all of the cave offering his very self to Vasoot, claiming that his skill of berry foraging could serve to grow Vasoot’s hoard and only asked a measly three berries to fill his stomach. Vasoot was a Moyadim of great ambition as they all were and while warry could not resist the growth of his hoard, for he knew that he could not forage as someone would steal the horde just as Vasoot had stolen it from its former owner. 
Their arrangement was the first time Moyadim had ever worked together, Vasoot and Maktug dominated the caverns. Maktug would forage and Vasoot’s horde would grow under his watchful eye. Eventually Vasoot’s greed even allowed Maktug 10 berries a day as a reward for his services, the most berries Maktug had ever seen. For years they dominated the caverns ecosystem, and the others began to take notice. Moyadim across the cavern hungered for the horde Vasoot had amassed but they knew they could not take it alone, and so Krasar, Atura, Lasag, and Yavar gathered in a secluded cavern and they schemed to take Vasoot’s horde. They were malnourished and weak and they knew Vasoot would be strong, perhaps Maktug would even be with him, they needed an edge something that could match the strength of the well fed hoarders. Yavar was abnormally intelligent for his people at the time, the Moyadim had no concept of tools but the hardship of the berry hoarding had lead to such a shortage that innovation was needed to survive, and so Yavar took a branch from one of the many moss-covered trees that had sprung up in the caverns, and using a vine he tied them together. Four of these blunt weapons were made, and the small band marched in confidence to confront Vasoot. 
Vasoot was suffice to say shocked when they approached him. The weaklings with no horde of their own had dared to challenge him? The sticks they held mattered not to him. Vasoot has not the wisest of his kind, his death was slow as the stones hit him again, and again, and again. He left this world a crumpled husk, and Yavar’s weapons proved themselves. The band of Moyadim were overjoyed, but joy and unity quickly turns to greed with the Moyadim, and Yavar turned horrified as his own weapon was swung at him, Atura wanted the berries for herself as did Lasag. Krasar had already disappeared deep into the hole where Vasoot had kept the horde. Yavar stepped back quickly dodging the weapon though he knew he could not take both of them. Just as Atura raised her weapon to strike again there was a screech and a thud as Lasag fell to the ground, Maktug stood over his unconscious body his fist bloodied from the blow. Maktug had been fed well under Vasoot, he was stronger than any of the others and he had picked up Lasag’s weapon. Yet Maktug did not strike, for he was crafty, and he had experienced what was possible when the Moyadim worked together. Maktug spoke in their crude language addressing Yavar and Atura “You ave ad a great victory, you ave bleed Vasoot dry. You musta realized youz aint got no chance o takin me, I ave one o yur killers ere in ma hand. Vasoot was a bleedr fool e didin realiz, didin lisin to me. Two Moyadim beat one, two moyadim don starve, but he didin want more den two ‘it worked’ e said. Youz show em it don work, youz saw what we did ere. Wez got a chance ere to do evin betta. Wit your numbers n my smarts we could rule this ere cave.” They looked to each other and Yavar lowered his weapon, Atura followed, the promise of dominion over an entire cave was something neither of them could have ever dreamed of. 
The others in the band quickly joined under Maktug, uniting into the first Moyadim tribe, Maktug had become the first Moyardi, the first leader of Moyadim. The success of Maktug’s band spread as legend from cavern to cavern, the idea that unity led to prosperity inspired many others to form their own tribes. Moyadim as an organized society had begun.  
=== Chapter three: Uhed Graul and early Moyadim faith ===
Years after Maktug formed the first Moyadim tribe Moyadim society had flourished, but they were not yet as numerous as they are today. There were many tribes spread throughout the caverns formed by lone Moyadim scavengers formed from the alchemical solution they all originated from, but in those early days the creation of a Moyadim was rare. Once, possibly twice a year a new Moyadim would emerge, being unable to reproduce independently the Moyadim were kept at naturally low number. Though through the actions of one the Moyadim people would change forever.  
here was nothing, only darkness and warmth. There was nothing and it was good. Then suddenly there was feeling, first arms, then legs, and eventually an entire body. Then there was burning, burning in the chest. She knew nothing but she knew she must escape the burning. So she pushed and her feet hit stone as she rose. Gasping and sputtering she reached the surface, crawling out of the pool she was born from. It was an absence of warmth, and she hungered, and she knew it was imperfect. So as if she knew she stumbled to her feet, and began to walk in search of food. As she walked she thought, for the first time. She knew not what she was nor how she came to be but she knew a name, Slavak and she knew it was hers. She thought and she knew no more than hunger and a name. An eternity passed or at least she felt as if it were forever, as it was all she had experienced. She found her way to a glowing fruit hanging from a vine, and she knew it was good. Taking it in her hands she bit in and enjoyed the sweetness of her meal. Yet she felt empty, she yearned for the feelings of warmth and nothingness that she had felt before her brutal emergence, and so she knew she must return. She gathered many berries in her hands and returned from whence she came, the journey seemed shorter now for she was not so hungry. She reached the pool once more and looked upon it, bubbling, oozing, and gurgling as it dissolved some stray berries that had fallen from the cavern's roof.  
It memorized her, that was where she came from. She looked to the sides of the pool and great tendrils had sprouted from it, they climbed the walls and spread all throughout the cavern. She looked to the moss and looked to her own arm, and she knew they were the same. She was different from the other Moyadim, blessed with understanding and curiosity, a rare intelligence among her people. She looked for others and realized she was alone, she was not there when the great tribes had formed, and they had long since left in search of food to sustain their number elsewhere in the cave system, but she did not know, all she knew was hunger and loneliness, and she craved  the feeling of belonging she held before the pool had expunged her. 
For the coming weeks she gathered berries and all other vegetation she could find, as was her nature as a Moyadim. Her hoard grew and she knew it was good, but the tribes had infected the very genetic memory of the Moyadim, the moss sprouting from the pool taking all from their corpses and dissolving them back into the pool upon death. So she also knew she was alone, yet she knew not of the tribes only the longing. It drove her to spend all her time near the pool, waiting for more to emerge as she had. Her hoard grew and she waiting, her hoard grew yet more and almost spilled into the pool itself, and one day it did. A large section of her hoard fell into the pool as the berries slid, around 30 in total fell. She watched in horror as her food dissolved, and then in amazement and is came together again. She peered into the pool trying to make out what was forming, and she saw a face starring back. It had no eyes and no body but it was a face, and as her face reflected over it she knew they were the same. This was a revelation, she was filled with wonder and awe. It was so obvious now, the pool grew her, it made her from berries that had fallen into the cave. It wasn't simply pool though no, it flowed with organic material and glowed with magics. It was something much more, no pool but rather something great, a great soup. She revered it for it had created her, it was her creator and it could create again, but all good things have names and this was the greatest in all creation. So she gave it a name and uttered its name in awe “Uhed Graul”. She knew what must be done now, a great work. This was no longer about survival, she knew that she must serve her new god the Uhed Graul must spread, and her people must be its catalyst. In one fell swoop she emptied her horde into the cave, hundreds of berries preserved and grown by the Uhed Graul and harvested by its servant, and so the great work began. This is why the Moyadim hoarded, it was a genetic need, and this was that need's purpose. Slavak watched as her brothers and sisters began to form, the Uhed Graul began to glow brighter then ever before as it was overflowing with the organic material from the berries. In the course of mere minutes seven Moyadim emerged, they looked upon Slavak innocent and without guidance, and she knew it was good. 
=== Chapter 4: War of the broken pot ===
Maktug sat in his hut, an old man. The tribe had flourished under his leadership. Grown to ten in number they were the most numerous in the southern cavern and were respected by all others. He was proud of what they had done for his tribe hungered for nothing. All was well till this fateful day, a messenger from the border tribes living on the outskirts of the southern cavern was brought before him. He was bloodied and one of his ears was entirely burnt off. It was obvious that he had been in territorial conflict and Maktug knew he had arrived to beg for the help of his great tribe to crush yet another small tribe. He was mistaken, the messenger told Maktug of a great threat to the north, a massive tribe of Moyadim somehow united numbering over thirty, this was unheard of. Maktug was shocked, but he had not lost his wit in his age. He gathered his tribe in their largest hut it had held the hoard of the tribe and thus was their most sacred place, so he addressed them as he had aged his wisdom had only grown and his words were elegant “My Moyadim, we face a great threat, the northern tribes have come together to destroy us” he assumed “they conspire to take our hoard, and we shall not have it. The border tribes beg for our help, they claim thirty in number raid the borders and push into our domain.” he paused as if debating “We will answer, all of you must go to all the southern tribes. Tell them of what is coming, offer anything you must. We fight for all we have built here, we will show the northern bleedr scum what the southern caverns can muster. YASSAD MOYADIM” he yelled the Warcry of their people. Over the coming weeks the southern tribes gathered, and they marched to the north, 26 Moyadim answered the rest remaining to protect their hordes. So they arrived at the border tribe that had first contacted them, their huts were burnt to the ground and a crude pot was drawn in blood on the wall. This was nothing like what any of the Moyadim had seen and Maktug knew this was not a simple raid for food, it was something much more.
Slavak rose to the chanting and cheering of the crowd surrounding her, from the Uhed Graul she lifted the new Moyadim and he blinked to life as she spoke “Yasad Uhed Graul”, the crowd cheered again. Her tribe had grown to unfathomable heights. Over 100 Moyadim lived under her rule, all followers of the Uhed Graul. The newly born Moyadim was guided away by the stew keepers to be educated in their ways and fed, he was the last formed in this spawning, his flesh made from the corpses of the southern tribe they raided. As she returned to the privacy of her hut she thought on the southerners, she had encountered them on the raids and they had refused to give up their hordes for the Uhed Graul, they would not accept its truth and she knew that they all must come to join with the Uhed Graul, willingly or not. 
Maktug and his men had tracked the raiders for days, they were newborn it was obvious from their movements, unafraid of the denizens of the cave and unaware of the trail they left. They were easy to track so Maktug quickly found their colony, he looked over a ridgeline into the cavern below and Maktug knew he was outmatched, his 26 were no match for the scores of Moyadim below. “How could there be so many?” He thought to himself, it was known that a Moyadim spawning was a rarity but somehow this tribe had been spawned in under a year, but Maktug was crafty and he would not be outdone by a startup. Maktug’s men had Yavr’s stone beaters, the weapon had become commonplace in the south and all his warriors wielded one. His men were experienced fighters' veterans of many horde raids, he concluded that if they struct quickly the newborn northerners could be bested. Maktug signaled to his men, they would strike quickly and without mercy.  
Slavak awoke to screams and the smell of fresh blood, she heard cry's echo in the cavern. Chanting could be heard as many voices became one “YASAD MOYADIM”, “YASAD MOYADIM”, “YASAD MOYADIM” she did not recognize the chants as any northern tribe, and she knew it was the southerners. She quickly exited her hut, and she looked in horror. Southern warriors covered in war paints marching straight through her colony, at their head an old Moyadim, perhaps an ancient one she had heard rumor of in the South older than any living Moyadim, the first to form a tribe. Her worst fears were confirmed when she heard the warriors call to the ancient one “MAKTUG, MOYARD, LOOK AHEAD THAT ONE DER WIT DA MARKINS, THAS DER MOYARDI”. It was the Southerner that had escaped their raiding party, and that word “Moyard”, many moyadim had proclaimed themselves as Moyard the leader of all tribes, but none had ever united any more than one or two to join their cause. She knew the south had low numbers and the differing markings on the Moyadim in this raiding party meant only one thing, the southern tribes had united under this “Maktug” and she did not know what to do. Her people could not fight them, they had nothing beyond sticks and clubs, the Southerns had harnessed stone. She had numbers she thought that could overwhelm them, but her foes had experience  beyond even her years. So she had only one option to save her people and continue the Uhed Graul’s work, she fell to her knees. 
Maktug smashed his beater down on the head of a northern tribesman and looked ahead as he heard his warrior call, the northerners Moyardi was in sight and he approached her, though he was surprised when she kneeled before him. Maktug gave her a moment to grovel, and he was pleased at her words, she begged for her life, she begged to continue her work, and she offered him something he couldn't refuse. 
Slavak rose as Maktug offered her his hand, she took it and stood. She had bent the knee and accepted him as her Moyard, she had promised him half of the new-borns they produced, and they walked together unaware of the new age that had just come to be. 
This was the start of the modern tribal system. The Moyard and the Moyardi ruling the caverns together, and of course conflict between tribes would continue under the watchful eye of the Moyard, tribes would fight for resources but were no longer permitted to destroy each other. The teachings of the Uhed Graul spread and even as Maktug passed followed by Slavak their influence on Moyadim culture persists to this day. The Moyard has become the corner piece of Moyadim tribal culture, preserving the old ways and ensuring tribes don't wipe each other out, Slavak’s faith has become synonymous with being a Moyadim and her ritual sacrifices to the Uhed Graul are regular events.
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