Culture Name: Dhuþchia

Subsistence Type: Maritime primary/Agrarian secondary^[1]

Info Page^[2]

Tech Summary:

The Dhuþchians are a fairly close maritime and agrarian hybrid, as their typical diet consists of a mix of seafood and domesticated crops. Seafood eaten consists of numerous varieties of fish, as well as clams, lobsters, waterfowl, and even seaweed. Amaranth and maize are the two main staple crops, with amaranth being dominant in the warmer, swampier southern regions to which it is native, and maize being dominant elsewhere. Wild rice, chilis, beans, gourds, grapes, and local citrus are all also harvested. Cotton, cattail, and bamboo are all grown primarily for non-culinary uses. Turkeys are kept in some larger settlements, particularly those in the north and the east, but domesticated animals don't form a large part of the typical Dhuþchian's diet.

Dhuþchian fisheries are relatively intensive and elaborate; seine nets and fishing weirs are in common use on the rivers and shallow coastal waters, while hand nets, cast nets, fishing lines, and fishing traps of all sorts are commonly deployed by individual fishermen. Small, hand-powered boats made of planks, as well as smaller and cruder dugout canoes, are used in conjunction with gillnets, as well as smaller handheld fishing implements, to harvest fish from beyond the shallow coasts and rivers. As they lack draught animals, the Dhuþchians do not have the true plough, and instead farm exclusively with handheld tools. Ditches and, in the larger settlements, the occasional canal are used for irrigation. Fish bone meal is widely used as a crop fertilizer, as is, to a lesser extent, turkey and waterfowl feather meal.

Most Dhuþchians live in simple wattle-and-daub huts, with thatch roofs. Bamboo and more traditional trees are used as supports. Fully-wooden houses are a rarity, reserved for the ruling elite of each settlement. Most Dhuþchian settlements are on the riverbanks, where farming is most effective. Smaller settlements, which subsist primarily on maritime and foraged food, are dotted throughout the coastline, and the intersections of notable rivers and coastal waters are home to most of the largest settlements. The three largest and wealthiest settlements, by a fairly significant margin, are those situated on Dhuþchia's three major mineral reserves: one each of gold, salt, and copper. The export of those resources from those settlements to the rest of Dhuþchia, and to neighbouring cultures, drives the economies of those proto-cities.

Copper tools are in common use, and obsidian is commonly used in weapons and jewelry. Most copper is mined and smithed in the furthest eastern reaches of Dhuþchia, and imported by the western regions, but most larger settlements anywhere will have at least someone knowledgeable of the basics of working the metal. Dhuþchia also boasts one of the few gold mines in the known world, and wealthy Dhuþchians are known for their golden jewelry and other ornamentation. Cotton and cattail are both weaved into cloth for clothing and baskets and whatnot, with cotton being more common in the south to where it is native, and is considered more prestigious or refined material. The sail is currently unknown in Dhuþchia. Gold, as well as salt and copper tools, are common exports to neighbouring cultures which lack them, and exotic textiles, foodstuffs, and stoneworks are common imports in return. Bronze is not produced by Dhuþchians, as Dhuþchia lacks any source of tin. If bronze is known to any of Dhuþchia's neighbours, it is one of the most prized imports by Dhuþchians.

RP: Volcano Man

In the dark times, the world was in chaos. The very ground itself quaked with constant ferocity. The mountains belched fire and smoke with nonstop, destructive abandon. The seas and oceans were enraged, and devastating waves and cruel monsters killed any foolish enough to venture into them. Giant beasts of terror roamed the lands, trampling all in their path, while smaller but no less dangerous predators stalked the shadows. To survive in those times required discipline, skill, courage, and grit. The younger generations, the elders claimed, would have surely been wiped out by the hardships. But, nonetheless, the ancestors of the Dhuþchians survived, wandering in terror, barely scraping by enough food to feed themselves each night. But there was no civilization, no culture; only desperation and savagery.

In time, after many generations of savage proto-Dhuþchians struggled to survive in their harsh, infernal habitat, a young man had a vision. A vision of the tallest, most destructive volcano, one that the wandering proto-Dhuþchian tribe had avoided ever approaching, because it was a giant, lava-belching volcano. The vision, as the young man explained to his clansmen, showed him ascending the volcano, and then an end to the eternal age of darkness. Of course, most were skeptical, but the young man's optimism, something long unknown to the proto-Dhuþchians, also inspired them. The next morning, after all in the camp had had a chance to sleep over the issue, a great debate erupted over whether or not to head to the volcano. The opponents, lead by the young man's older brother, called it reckless, suicidal, and foolish. The supporters argued that this was their one, and perhaps only, chance at improving their world, and, in the end, the young man's youthful optimism carried the day.

During the journey through the wretched lands to the great volcano, the rift between the two brothers grew. The elder, an experienced hunter and veteran of surviving the horrific wilds, took the lead on navigating the tribe safely towards the volcano, despite his vocal opposition to the plan. However, he also became gruff and withdrawn, rarely interacting with others except to issue orders, and he effectively ignored his younger brother's existence. The younger brother was clearly hurt by this, and became noticeably more subdued when the elder was around. The younger was his same warm, optimistic self when apart from the elder, however, although there was increasingly a more mournful and sober tone to his moods – especially as the tribe advanced closer to the volcanic wasteland, and the elderly, wounded, and careless began to succumb to the increasingly lethal horrors of the region, slowly but incessantly.

Over the following months, as the death count piled up and up, and as the grand volano loomed closer and closer on the horizon, the younger brother began to mature into a true leader and warrior in his own right, clearing sharing at least some of his elder's genetics. He also became increasingly more serious and driven; he was no longer a boy masquerading as a man. His elder brother noticed this, and slowly stopped ignoring him; however, there was still little real warmth between them, as they were both too focused on the near-impossible task of leading as many of their people as possible to the volcano alive to worry about properly mending past wounds. A sort of grim camaraderie had formed between them, and indeed between all of the survivors, with only the slowly-closing silhouette of the great volcano in the distance keeping them going. They fought packs of vicious carnivores, navigated harrowing crevices and sheer cliffs, and hid with held breath as flying abominations and titanic terrors cast their shadows over the land. Their survival instincts and fighting reflexes were honed, to he point where they were each more warrior than man, operating at an instinctual and subconscious level as they braved the horrific hellscape around them.

With their honed reflexes came increased survival chances. The constant stream of deaths began to trickle out, as the remaining survivors were by necessity cunning, skillful, determined, and lucky enough to avoid death by the countless perils that made up their daily life. And, sure enough, the small tribe did eventually reach the base of the volcano, and found a small cavern to rest in, sheltered from the horrors that stalked around them. It was that night that the younger brother had another vision. The details of this vision, however, he did not share with his comrades, only telling them that he must proceed upwards alone. He did, however, confide with his elder brother just before he left, and begged his brother to see to the tribe's safety. Upon emerging from the conversation, the elder brother looked almost stricken with grief, but swore to ensure that their tribe, the entire reason they had set out on this journey in the first place, was kept safe.

However, just one day and one night after the younger's departure, with the elder's strain growing visible each hour, he could no longer bear whatever knowledge the younger had entrusted to him in confidence. The elder asked the real tribe elder, who was, due to the circumstances of their exceedingly gruelling journey, not actually that old for a tribal elder, to lead and protect the tribe. Then the elder brother ascended the volcano after his younger brother. Despite the younger's incredible growth in physical prowess, the elder brother was still stronger, larger, and more experienced in climbing. Even with almost two day's head start, the younger arrived at the summit almost a full day after his elder, and found him waiting at the shores of the volcano's fiery mouth to greet him. The younger brother was at first shocked, then saddened, but understanding. The elder told his younger to go back, that this was just a foolish dream after all, and that he should leave the decision making to the grown ups. The younger brother was naturally incensed: the two brothers had led, fought, and sweat as equals for months now, yet now his elder was pulling rank. A shouting match ensued, with spittle flying from mouths quickly escalating to punches flying from fists. Thunder crashed in the distance, and the very earth shook beneath them, as they dueled next to the volcano's mouth. The striking quickly changed to grappling, as the two men instinctively followed their honed combat reflexes, and as adrenaline surged through their bodies. However, as the elder was still bigger and stronger than his younger, he eventually forced his younger into a chokehold, ingrained combat instincts completely taking over.

However, just as the elder was about to vanquish his enemy, a great boom of thunder shook the land, and the brothers were thrown apart, and closer to the dangerous edge of the inferno's mouth. As the two combatants stood up, the elder just stood in shocked horror, instead of resuming his combat footing. The younger, seeing a moment of hesitation in his foe, with a mighty roundhouse kick blasted his distracted foe over the edge, and he fell, voicelessly, into the deep pit and towards the blazing hot lava below. The younger brother, after catching his breath, slowly realized what exactly he had done, and collapsed on his knees and wept.

For the younger brother's final vision was that the gods, who had been ignored by humanity since their creation, were greatly displeased by humanity's impiety. A great sacrifice had been demanded as the condition for ending the age of darkness, a sacrifice of human blood and bone. A sacrifice that the younger brother had intended to make himself, but instead made for his elder brother for him.

The younger brother stayed, weeping, for seven days, and slept exposed on the hard volcanic stone for seven nights, even as the great earthquakes ceased, the abominations and terrors retreated into the recesses of memory, and the great plumes of lava and smoke died down. Eventually, on the eighth day, the rest of the tribe had managed to make their way up the volcano to check on the two brothers. Upon seeing the still-weeping younger brother, and the absent elder brother, the gist of the situation became immediately apparent to them. They helped him to his feet, force fed him some food, and dragged him back down the volcano. On their way down, heading towards a riverbed that one of the keener-eyed survivors had seen from atop the volcano's peak, one of them men almost tripped and fell on a loose rock. After catching his breath and dusting off his clothes, he picked up the rock that had almost killed him. It was, after the soot was brushed off, a shining yellow colour – a colour that would later be known more precisely as golden.

The gods, their rage subsided, were now mournful at the extreme agony that their rather petulant actions had caused. This gold was to be the first in a grand series of blessings, that would see the proto-Dhuþchians evolve into the mighty, world conquering super-empire that they are destined to become.

And that's how i met your mother how glorious Dhuþchia came to be.

1. Yeah, ik that secondary subsistence types aren't a thing anymore, but no u.

2. WIP; finished version coming soon^TM .