Chapter 3: Bronze

The eagle people have always made their homes among the mountains, clinging to the cliffs they so dearly love, generation after generation.

With crude stone tools, they hollow out caves near the summits to serve as their dwellings.

Gaoman Mountain, their current refuge, is but a humble speck in the vast, ancient world of Felander—nothing extraordinary.

Yet whispers speak of the Eagle People's royal court, perched atop the towering Sky Mountain, a breathtaking peak that dwarfs all else.

Tens of thousands of eagle folk call it home, a grand ancestral court from which the Gaoman Mountain tribe traces its humble roots.

When Jarius rose to become chieftain of the Gaoman Mountain tribe, he wasted no time reshaping the lives of his people.

The stone caves had served them well enough, offering safety, but after countless generations, the stench within had grown unbearable, and cleanliness remained a nagging problem.

The First Year.

Armed with determination, Jarius sharpened stone axes, felled sturdy trees, and rallied his tribe. Over the span of a year, they crafted dozens of wooden houses and beds—new homes to call their own.

The old caves, now fitted with wooden doors, became perfect storage dens.

These eagle folk houses were cleverly designed with two exits: one carved into the roof, another near the cliff's edge, making travel a breeze.

With the houses complete, Jarius gathered his people once more, this time to dig a central pool for fresh water—a lifeline for daily needs.

He tasked tribesfolk with fetching water each day, a simple but vital routine.

Then, with wooden walls encircling the cluster of homes, a modest village took shape.

It might not have been as secure as the caves, but as Jarius gazed upon it, he felt a spark of civilization flicker to life in the wild expanse.

For the first time, his heart settled.

Second Year, Winter.

When winter cloaked the land in snow, Jarius led the tribe's youths on a daring hunt. They tracked down and slew several hibernating black bears in the Whispering Forest.

Their victory sharpening his skills and strength.Clad in a bearskin coat.

He found warmth against the biting cold.

Third Year.

In the eastern reaches of the Whispering Forest, Jarius stumbled upon a magical beast—a deer-like creature of surprising might yet gentle temperament.

It lingered peacefully within its territory, easing his worries.

Still, the encounter stoked a growing hunger within him: a craving for extraordinary power.

Fourth Year.

While chasing wild oxen with his hunting party, Jarius soared three thousand meters westward, beyond their usual grounds.

There, he uncovered a treasure: an open copper mine.

Joy surged through him.

Copper!

The key to vaulting his tribe from the Stone Age into the Bronze Age.

With copper tools, their strength would soar.

But his elation was short-lived. A young eagle scout soon swooped in with grim news: a snake people tribe lurked nearby.

Like the eagle folk, the snake people were vassals of the Titan giants.

Yet these two races had clashed for eons, their lands entwined, their enmity ancient.

Long ago, before eagles evolved into winged folk, they hunted the snake people's two-legged ancestors for food.

But when the Titans blessed both with intellect.

That dominance faded.

The snake folk bred swiftly and wielded bows with deadly precision.

While the eagle people's sharp talons ill-suited them for archery.

A pity, for a skyborne archer would've been a force to reckon with.

Weighing his options, Jarius' yearning for copper tipped the scales.

He asked thoughtfully.

"Len, how many snake folk are there, and do any wield supernatural powers?"

"I didn't get a good look, Chieftain,"

Len confessed, rubbing his head awkwardly.

"No matter," Jarius replied with a nod. "We'll scout it ourselves."

He didn't fault the lad—spotting the tribe at all was no small feat.

Soaring with a band of young eagle folk, they flew a few miles and soon spotted the snake tribe beside a river.

From above, Jarius surveyed their state.

War-weary, reduced mostly to the old, weak, and young.

It figured—the snake folk fared even worse in battle than his own, mere fodder for the slaughter.

Still, their numbers edged out his tribe's, boasting around three hundred souls.

Without hesitation, Jarius resolved to wipe them out.

That night.

He led his warriors in a silent raid, striking as the snake folk slumbered, and razed their settlement to nothing.

With the threat gone, they turned to the copper mine, extracting its riches and smelting bronze.

From a past life, Jarius recalled the simplest ancient methods of refining copper. After a few tries, he forged bronze, a triumph of ingenuity.

Fifth Year.

A year of labor paid off.

Nearly every warrior in the tribe now gripped a bronze weapon.

With these, they hunted fiercer, grander prey.

Even daring to spar with weaker magical beasts.

Most favored bronze spears, but Jarius crafted himself a gleaming bronze sword.

Sixth Year.

As bronze stockpiles swelled, Jarius melted the surplus into a massive cauldron.

Its belly ever-simmering with food.

Soon, bronze bowls, basins, pots, and spoons joined the tribe's arsenal of tools.

At last, he declared it: the Gaoman Mountain tribe had shed the Stone Age, stepping boldly into the Bronze Age.

More advanced than most in Felander's wild tapestry.

Seventh Year.

At sixteen, Jarius came of age among his kind.

His frame now tall and nimble, his wings tough as steel.

With war looming, he turned to crafting bronze armor.

Wings complicated full plating, and weight threatened their flight.

So he forged light pieces for the chest, arms, and head.

A dozen sets emerged, donned by Jarius and the tribe's mightiest.

His brothers-in-arms.

Forged in childhood bonds.

As time rolled on.

Autumn painted the land in golden hues.

Leaves dancing in the breeze.

And with them came the envoy from the Eagle People's royal court, right on schedule.