The Tribes of the Changed
The following information is courtesy of the original Mutant Faction writer Adam "Snipehunter" Maxwell.
"The Change came upon us quietly. Even those that would become the first of The Changed did not yet realize their destiny, the destiny brought to them when the sky rained stars upon the world. The first of us were very much like Man, only the color of our flesh separated us. It was enough. To Man our differences were plagues, The Change was an unfortunate affliction to be cured with their science. To them we were helpless victims. They did not understand The Change, or what it meant for us all. They soon learned the truth, and their folly brought the time of troubles to us all in a Night of Righteous Fire..."
- Excerpt from Mutant Oral History, as told by Ariana Santos, Prime Archon
Mutants regard pure Humans as inherently evil heretics, as they so obviously resist the divine changes the Mutant people embrace and worship. As for the Biomeks, The Changed find their approach to evolution grossly sickening and harbor a deep resentment towards Biomeks as their historical oppressors.
The Mutants revel in the bizarre environmental conditions of the planet with religious zeal. As a result, they have developed interesting talents with surviving mutated flora and fauna.
When augmented with a strong energy source, trained Mutants can manipulate the ever present Contamination, performing awesomely powerful phase-shift effects. Out of thin air, these ghastly apparitions decimate any potential threat.
Many Mutant construction materials now incorporate elements of Contamination in production and shaping, resulting in strange regenerative capabilities on armor plating and structures.
South of the town of Tocado lies The Vast, a massive field of radioactive rubble and slag left over from the Night of Fire. Many young Mutants travel to the edge of this area before they perform their Rites of Ascension to prove that they are ready to become a Warrior of The Tribes.
Now that the third generation of warriors is coming of age, things have changed for the Proving Grounds. The Tocado council has built a repair station to help young Mutants who might get in over their heads, and the bandits that move through the ruins of the region are cleared away regularly, though they still sometimes get out of hand...
History
"The Change came upon us quietly. Even those that would become the first of The Changed did not yet realize their destiny, the destiny brought to them when the sky rained stars upon the world. The first of us were very much like Man, only the color of our flesh separated us. It was enough. To Man our differences were plagues, The Change was an unfortunate affliction to be cured with their science. To them we were helpless victims. They did not understand The Change, or what it meant for us all. They soon learned the truth, and their folly brought the time of troubles to us all in a Night of Righteous Fire..."
- Excerpt from Mutant Oral History, as told by Ariana Santos, Prime Archon
Mutants regard pure Humans as inherently evil heretics, as they so obviously resist the divine changes the Mutant people embrace and worship. As for the Biomeks, The Changed find their approach to evolution grossly sickening and harbor a deep resentment towards Biomeks as their historical oppressors.
The Mutants revel in the bizarre environmental conditions of the planet with religious zeal. As a result, they have developed interesting talents with surviving mutated flora and fauna.
When augmented with a strong energy source, trained Mutants can manipulate the ever present Contamination, performing awesomely powerful phase-shift effects. Out of thin air, these ghastly apparitions decimate any potential threat.
Many Mutant construction materials now incorporate elements of Contamination in production and shaping, resulting in strange regenerative capabilities on armor plating and structures.
South of the town of Tocado lies The Vast, a massive field of radioactive rubble and slag left over from the Night of Fire. Many young Mutants travel to the edge of this area before they perform their Rites of Ascension to prove that they are ready to become a Warrior of The Tribes.
Now that the third generation of warriors is coming of age, things have changed for the Proving Grounds. The Tocado council has built a repair station to help young Mutants who might get in over their heads, and the bandits that move through the ruins of the region are cleared away regularly, though they still sometimes get out of hand...
Oral History Excerpt
(Note: a complete oral telling of the mutant never existed. We intentionally leave blanks throughout each faction's history so that there is always room for debate between the players of each faction.)
As told by Ariana Santos, Prime Archon of The Children of The ChangeIn the times before the Night of Righteous Fire, before the wars that gave us our names and set the tribes upon The Path we were born upon an unsuspecting world. In those days we were no different from man. Like them we reveled in our arrogant grip upon the world, delighting as we choked away its life in our clenched fist. In those dark times all were Man and Man ruled all.
The Change came upon us quietly. Even those who would become the first of The Changed did not yet realize their destiny, the destiny brought to them when the sky rained stars upon the world. The first of us were very much like Man, only the color of our flesh separated us. It was enough. To Man our differences were plagues, The Change was an unfortunate affliction to be cured with their science. To them we were helpless victims. They did not understand The Change, or what it meant for us all. They soon learned the truth, and their folly brought the time of troubles to us all in a Night of Righteous Fire, but there is more to the tale that must be told before the Night that was Day.
Within a generation the first children of The Changed began to show signs of their true destiny. Man’s pity for our “illness” was soon replaced by fear as our children walked the world with wondrous gifts, abilities denied to mere Men. Man saw that The Change had left them behind and they knew the fear of their own extinction for the first time. In his panic and fear Man could not abide our early kin and the wondrous gifts given to them by the stars that fell to Earth. Simple kindnesses, even the right to educate our children, were denied us to “protect the uninfected and preserve the pure.” Medical isolation provided a façade behind which their hatred of our kind could fester and grow.
The Changed were gathered into camps to “prevent the spread” of the plague they claimed we bore. Subjugated and oppressed our people withered in the ghettos Man had created. Children of The Change with gifts that went unseen walked free but felt a burning rage in their hearts; Man had rejected The Change and its children. This treatment of the Children could not go on; it would only end in pain for all.
And so it came to pass. In the second generation of The Change the child Marta was born in a small town to the North. Marta was a fair child who bore the face of man, but no Child of the Change since has been as closely connected to the world as Marta. Hers was the gift of knowledge; she alone heard the voice of the world and the thoughts of all life upon its skin. Many of The Children have contemplated what they would do with such a gift, but none have been so blessed since. Perhaps the atrocities Man visited upon Marta were too much for the world to bear.
The Chronicle of Jared recounts her story in detail. The child Marta’s life is a tale of woe. Born in the camps her skin was pale but pink as any Child of Man and her eyes held color, a pale blue so clear it is said they sparkled as polished sapphires. Eyes her parents would never see. The birth was a difficult one, as many are among The Changed, and the child’s mother died in the effort. The Men of the camp would not allow Marta's father to see her and soon after she disappeared from the camps entirely. Jared himself witnessed the birth and spoke of the father’s pain, “Such sorrow was never before felt by any of The Changed as it was when Man’s doctors stole The Child from her father. For a time his mournful cries became the music of our lives, the score against which all life at the camp was lived. His passing that winter of camp cough was a kindness from the Land.”
With no living family the Men were free to dispose of The Child Marta as they saw fit. They drew blood like ghouls, subjected her to horrible medical experiments and in the end found nothing. Though they could not explain it their science had told them she was no less human than they. No different, in fact, than any Man.
Unable to explain her birth they then cast her off. The Child Marta was sold as property to a passing caravan of Man’s missionaries, those that would one day become the Angels of Light who have caused us so much torment. Surely the missionaries promised to treat her well, but Man holds nothing in its heart but Lies and this promise was no different. Their promise to educate Marta and treat her as they would any Child of Man was broken immediately.
The Child was seen by many of our people in the years that followed. The missionaries would travel from town to town preaching of the dangers of accepting our kind. They would claim that our kind was marked as servants of their devil. We were to them a sign of the end times. The child was held up as an example of how our evil could hide from their eyes and their science. Though she had done nothing to them or any Man the crowds that gathered would ridicule and denounce the child and she would simply cry, deafened by the angry roar of their thoughts. If the crowds took pity on her, a rarity to be sure, then she would surely receive a fierce beating from her captors that night. Pain and suffering where all she knew in that time and her gifts became to her a curse for the thoughts of Man are filled with darkness and a lust for the blood of our kind.
And so it was when she came to the small town of Salem. She had known no kindness and felt no love. Hers was the greatest gift our kind had ever received and yet her life was the hardest of all to bear. Still she survived and shouldered the burden of the thoughts of Man. Despite the missionaries desire to keep her ignorant she learned and grew, in secret she would use her gifts to gain the knowledge of Man. Her gifts themselves continue to develop and she gained knowledge at a rapid pace. She could use her gifts to incredible effect and yet never did she turn her gifts against the missionaries who so cruelly dominated her life. That would change in Salem.
Marta was only 15 years of age when Man first realized her gift. The missionaries began their show as usual but when they brought out Marta and the crowd was whipped into their usual hellish frenzy The Child used the confusion to escape. Using her gifts she caused the Men gathered there to see her still crying on that stage as she turned and fled into the town itself. Once away from the missionaries she hid her gifts and passed as a Child of Man. She should have been able to finally live a life free of pain and grief but that was not to be.
Men no better than the bandits that plague our lands today tormented Marta, they did not know she was of The Changed, but it made no difference. As is Man’s want they set upon her thinking she was one of their own, a child of Man. Their intent to violate her was loud in their minds and Marta heard the malice of their thoughts clearly. Frightened, terrified at the intent in their thoughts, she could not help but use her gifts to defend herself. She extinguished them, those callous men with murder in their hearts, snuffing out the flame of their lives with the gifts of her mind. Terrified at what could have happened and wanting nothing more than comfort and love she turned to those nearby, holding out her arms to them but there was no comfort to be had from Man that day. The cries of hatred in their minds was deafening to the poor child. Drowning in their rage and fear she had no chance, no hope at all.
Her death cries were heard across the world by all the Children of The Change.
The people there in Salem killed her then. Just as the images she had seen in the minds of Man in every town had shown her they killed her brutally, dragging the frail body of that beautiful child behind their vehicles in an orgiastic celebration of the act. The chronicles of Jared and Marion both tell us that The Changed nearby were left with her cries of pain and loneliness echoing in their minds forever. We rose like a terrible crushing wave when Marta died. A tide of the vile blood of Man trailed in our Righteous Wake that day. It stains the ground of Salem to this very day, as you will see when you make the pilgrimage yourself.
Alas! Revel not in the joy of vengeance for we also made a terrible enemy of Man that day!
Man was thrown into a panic. Not only had we proven capable of defending ourselves, the potential of our gifts was shown to be far greater than even we had realized. In their fear, Man began to view us not as victims of some disease, but as a threat rising from within. Man began to fear one day, we would lash out and destroy them for good. We had no cause in those dark days save our own continued existence. Yet thanks to the actions of Man, their own dark fears would be made real. They fulfilled their own ill-begotten prophecies in the days to follow Marta’s death.
It began with small groups of Men, hate mongers who saw the Change’s effect on the world itself and blamed us for it. It was our gifts, they would cry, that have changed the very air Man breathed and shifted the form of every familiar plant and animal around them. Man became increasingly afraid of The Change and jealous of our gifts and so did everything they could to stop it. The hate mongers took it a step further, offering bounties for the heads of dead Children, calling us “filthy mutants” and demanding that we “be put down for good.” Though we called out for protection the rulers of Man made no move to stop the dealers of death among them.
We were forsaken.
Hunted to the last woman and child we defended ourselves as we could. We knew fear then, fear that our people would grace this world no longer. In the days that followed fear turned to despair. We were a lost people then, with no leaders to guide us, no faith to sustain us, and no home to call our own but His coming soon showed us The Way.
Not even a year had passed since Marta left our world and already the Hordes of Man and the Children of The Change fought bitter clashes in the streets and camps. Man’s unfeeling government would offer us no sanctuary save the prison of their camps and we could find no solace in those not Changed. With nothing but enemies surrounding us we took the fight to them that year, striking at the facilities that furthered Man’s government and denying Man the same services they would withhold from us. In retaliation Man branded us terrorists and restricted our rights further. The camps they set aside for us boiled with pent up rage and no Man dared enter. Soon they denied us even food and water and used the weak as slaves. They used our children for foul experiments to “find the cause of this disease.” We were no more than animals to be used or slaughtered, but then in the camps a leader of our people arose. All alive today know him as The Voice for it is said that when he spoke the earth resonated with his words.
He spoke of a path towards freedom. He spoke of a day when the Children of The Change would no longer have to fear Man’s dark hatred. The Voice was surely the greatest of us all. He sought no conflict with Man and felt nothing but sorrow at their treatment of The Children of The Change. It was The Voice that taught us to explore our gifts and to embrace The Changed World as mother. “Our abilities are gifts from the Land,” he would say, “to use for the betterment of all.” Wherever he spoke he spread words of peace.
To Man his words most surely sounded hollow, no more than the desperate hope of a dying people given voice, but none of us Children of the Change could deny the truth of his words for his was the voice of destiny and we all felt it within us. In the years that followed many flocked to him and his cause. Even Man’s government paid heed to his words and their promises of peace between our peoples. A law was drafted that would recognize us as equals; at least that was Man’s promise.
When no such recognition came, many of The Changed lost hope and continued their tirade against Man. All of The Changed still paid heed to The Voice’s words, but many then thought that he had interpreted the divine insight that was his gift too passively. A schism developed in our people then. Jared and Marion, great leaders in their own right who would one day form the Tribes of Plant and Spirit, joined with The Voice to bring about his vision of peace but their actions were always countered by the call to war with Man. A call shouted loudest by the militants who would one day form the Tribes of Bear and Insect. For many years The Voice’s call for peace was tempered by violent clashes with Man, clashes that the militants lusted after.
Make no mistake, all wanted an end to the war with Man, the question was how to bring it about. When no resolution to the issue came The Voice realized that peace could only come by separating our two peoples. Followed by Marion and Jared he declared that he would leave the lands of Man and head into the jungle of the south to found a new land for The Children of The Change, a citadel of peace where we could bask in the glory of The Changed Land and use our gifts to ascend to our rightful place in this new world.
“We are an Ascended people,” he said that day, “it is time to put an end to the base aggression that dominates these days. When you are ready to put the anger and pains of the old world behind seek me out in the south, I will be waiting with open arms to welcome you.”Many followed The Voice that day but those that remained continued the fight against Man. In the years that followed the aggression of Man escalated. Soon Man created machines to hunt and kill our kind for them. They claimed these agents of steel were created to keep the peace but the scores of our kind who died to these “peacekeepers” spoke otherwise. Man would offer no peace to our kind, not then and not now.
Those times were terrible for The Children of The Change, but to the south something remarkable was happening. With the help of Jared’s practiced eye and his gifts as a shaper of the Land, The Voice was able to erect an incredible sanctuary for our people. The Citadel of The Voice was a paradise of The Changed Land not built but shaped from the very spirit of the land itself. Its citizens, lead in an exploration of their gifts by The Voice and the Lady Marion, realized their greater potential, as all of our kind now do by embracing The Path. The peace The Voice had promised was real there in the Citadel, but still out in the rest of the world the bloody war with Man continued.
When The Voice could stand the tales of woe from the North no longer he issued an invitation to all of The Children of The Change to come to The Citadel and see for themselves the life our gifts could create. Many still believed that The Voice’s interpretation of the holy message he had heard was too passive but none denied his request. A great gathering was to be held then at the Citadel and all the Children of The Change began the pilgrimage to attend, leaving the camps and our places of refuge no matter the cost.
We did not know that Man would be there as well.
Our conflict with Man had been growing. Fervent believers attacked their insidious works more frequently. Bloodshed was becoming more commonplace. The Voice, in his wisdom, sought to end that. In those days He preached that the Children of The Change and the Children of Man were both Children of the Earth and therefore brothers that should work together to make the most of the ever changing world. His voice was so compelling to our people that we were able to set aside our rage, for a time. When we gathered in the south that day we were ready to truly hear his words of peace. Man was not.
Gathered as we were that day we must have seemed easy prey to the Hordes of Man. The Voice began to speak from a stage erected on the Citadel walls and a calm fell across our people. His was a voice of reason and compassion that put us all at ease and his words promised an end to the conflict that endangered our very existence. It is said that he was only moments from showing us the path to peace when a shot rang out. Staggering as if felled by a blow The Voice fell silent and chaos erupted amongst us. A cry of rage and sorrow arose on the stage where The Voice had fallen from the Lady Marion, “They’ve killed him! The Hordes of Man have silenced The Voice!”
Chaos and turmoil followed the death of The Voice that day. His foul assassin was never found which only furthered fueled our rage. In all the times of trouble our people had experienced never before had we felt such a fury as we did then. Marion herself, always a voice of calm and peace, demanded an end not to the conflict with Man but instead an end to the Hordes of Man themselves. It did not matter to our people that day that the government of Man denied any responsibility for the attempt on His life. It was a man that had done this, just as it had been a man that committed every atrocity upon our people before. It would only stop once Man was destroyed. We no longer satisfied ourselves with attacks against the government, every Man was capable of destroying us so every Man must be destroyed. It was folly, of course, for we were not ready then but we did not see it and in our rage we no longer heard The Voice’s message of peace.
As winter came that year many Children of The Change decided to remain at the Citadel of The Voice, preparing for war. Those that remained outside its walls continued their bloody campaign against Man but, as they always had before, the Hordes of Man proved equally bloodthirsty. A bitter war raged across the lands and our people found themselves pushed back by Man’s military might and his machines of war. In the years that followed even those still hell-bent on destroying the Hordes of Man had no choice but to flee to the south and the Citadel of The Voice. It was still a place of sanctuary, for The Voice had welcomed all of the Children of The Changed as brothers, even those that felt his path was flawed. He taught us to honor each other as the brothers and sisters that we were. “The Children of The Change are one family,” he had said, “and we do not harm our own kin. This is The Way and the path towards peace.”
Yet, in those days the Citadel was more fortress than sanctuary. Jared had begun to put his talents to a new use, crafting vehicles and weapons that would finally allow us to meet the war machines of Man on an equal footing. Where Man had been the schism that kept us from true unity in the past he was now the source of our Unity.
Each year more and more of The Changed would make the journey to The Citadel to join the community The Voice had founded, but with them would always come the Armies of Man, hell-bent on eradicating the pilgrims before they could reach their destination. At the time Man feared The Citadel and avoided it. They would bring their troops to the edge of our territory but advance no further. While raiding parties of our own would secretly journey into their land to wreak havoc and destruction upon Man’s unsuspecting populace. Warriors act with their hearts, and the hearts of The Changed still seethed with the rage of our past mistreatment.
The conflict was waged this way for 5 long years. That winter had brought a new tide of aggression from the Army of Man. They were no longer content to follow refugees to the borders of our territory. Instead they sent wave after wave of attacking forces into our lands, striking at our holdings in much the same way that our raiding parties had struck at them. When winter broke that year and we Children of The Change were raising our third generation the Army of Man laid siege to the Citadel itself.
Upon seeing the Army of Man arrayed outside the Citadel’s gates, every Child of the Change once more felt the pain of The Voice’s passing that day. Even Marion and Jared - The Voice’s staunchest supporters for peace - demanded retribution for the death of their beloved leader once more. From that day forth there would be no chance of peace with Man. Any Man that dare appear before The Changed would find only cold death waiting for them. We set forth from the Citadel with hell burning in our eyes and we fought them bitterly on the first day of the siege. As the sun fell that 1st day no clear victor could be named. The Army of Man had dealt us grievous blows but we had dealt as much death that day. By the second day of the Battle of The Citadel the conflict had worked our ancestors into a furious frenzy. Many Men and hosts of The Changed died that day but, our rage building with every new death, we Children of the Change found our true power. Until that day our abilities, our true gifts, had been hidden beneath the surface. We had always had some affinity for the Changed Land, but through the course of that battle our warriors found themselves possessed of incredible strength and a berserker rage. They fought for those that would not and so became the Champions of the Bear tribe; even generations later they are still able to call upon the Ursine spirit for strength. Some were able to use the land itself to hide and protect them as they approached the armed camps of Men to enact vengeance upon the Army’s leaders for what had happened to The Voice. These became known as Avengers and many of the Insect tribe serves in this capacity today.
As the battle raged even those of our people who had held fast to the path of peace laid out by The Voice saw that there was no hope and so they joined the defense of the Citadel. Some were able to call the Spirit of The Change to our defense, manifest in any shape and form they could imagine. These rained destruction and torment upon our foes and once again Man knew fear. Our most enlightened, the Archons and Shamans, became both terrifying and beautiful to behold as they put the Blood of the Change to use against the Army of Man. Once all the tribes of The Changed joined the battle there was no hope for Man. The land itself rose up to reject them in mighty gouts and plants of the Changed Land stalked Man and their vehicles of war like hunting beasts, rending their victims between their stalks and vines grown animate with our anger. By nightfall of the second day nothing moved upon the fields around the Citadel that did not embrace the Changed World in all its glory. Instead of showing restraint and allowing the remnants of the army to flee we set forth in pursuit. We wanted to remove their taint from our new world forever. A noble goal in retrospect, perhaps, but still we were not ready.
Our lack of experience with our gifts and with the strategies of war did not deter us. We returned to the world of Man with black hearts and bloodied hands. We were no longer the “terrorists” their government had labeled us but an army in our own right and where we moved Men feared to tread. Yet, The Voice had warned our warriors against this course of action more than once. “All glory is fleeting,” he would say as each raiding party left the Citadel but the warriors never learned, with The Voice now silent the lesson would only come at great cost.
While the able and firm among us brought our conflict to Man an old threat reemerged. Missionaries and cultists from the faiths of Man began to appear in large numbers, coming to the edge of the killing field around the Citadel and praying for their god to remove our taint from the land. They came to our very home to denounce us as unholy. They did not understand our place in the new world had supplanted their own.
The Voice had shown us that the changing world and our own still young race was a natural part of the world’s future. He said himself on the first observance of our new life at the Citadel, “One way of life will always arise to replace that which held sway before it. In this way the world herself grows and changes. You cannot stop the world from changing any more than a bird can stop the rain from falling through its sky. Embrace the change! Become the new life and you will be able to witness its glory. Try to hold it back and you will soon find yourself miserable, like a bird drenched in the rain.”
When their hymns and prayers would not remove us or turn back the course of the changing world the cultists showed us their true natures. Like every Man before them they came at us with malice and struck violently at the women and children we had left behind if they ventured away from the Citadel. The Citadel became an armed fortress under siege once again and those that remained anxiously awaited the return of our warriors.
The warriors proved far more difficult for the remaining forces of Man than they had anticipated. Our army achieved victory in almost every skirmish in the days following the Battle of the Citadel but this rush was short-lived. Within a year the Army of Man had new weapons and warriors, powerful warriors of Steel that seemed to possess no humanity. They killed our warriors with unfeeling malice and turned the tide of the war once again. Our forces were pushed south back towards our new home in a bloody retreat, all the time harried by religious cultists who called themselves Angels of Light. The ferocity of the Angels attack surprised us. The leaders of the tribes, those that arose to bring reason in the chaos following The Voice’s death, expected the cultists to fade after their faith had proven useless against us but instead they became more and more ferocious. Indeed, our rejection of their ways seemed to fuel their faith to further heights of zealotry. They became possessed in much the same way as our own champions with a battle frenzy they called the Battle Rapture. We called them simply Rapture Angels and dreaded their appearance in any battle.
Ours is a history of darkness and suffering and this time was no different. Only the work of the tribes and our ever growing hatred of the Hordes of Man kept our people unified. It is here at this time in our history that the new Armies of Man become known as the Children of Steel. Tales of their might were told to our children to scare them as they curled up in their beds. We know them now by many names but be they Children of Steel, or Evomek, they are just as frightening. The Children of Steel were regularly beating back our forces. Within a year we were once more ensconced within the Citadel with an army at its gates. However, our Shamans and Archons had not been idle in the time between sieges.
Mobility had ever been the advantage of the Army of Man and its Children of Steel. Our own affinity for the land and our ability to harness its spirit for our own purposes had allowed us to combat the mobility of their armies but it was a losing battle. There were more Men in those days than Children of The Change. Their vehicles and the bodies of their Children of Steel could move them far faster than our own vehicles, and with their superior numbers they could protect themselves and field an attacking force at the same time. Our Shamans realized we needed mobility of our own and set to work under Jared’s tutelage to finish the work he had begun in the early days of the Citadel. Using their abilities they were able to infuse the Spirit of the World into our weapons and vehicles giving us the living tools we use in war even now. When the Army of Man came to the Citadel a second time they did not find us ill prepared or trembling in fear. Instead they found us organized and thirsting for their blood.
The Armies of Man, even with their Children of Steel, were pushed back once again and the Citadel was safe. The tribes of The Changed vowed then that never again would the Citadel of The Voice be threatened by Man and we once more prepared to bring the fight to the Hordes of Man.
As the fourth generation was being born to our people the war raged on. The Changed and the Men that threatened us fought and died as the world continued to change around us. It seemed as if the fight would continue forever, but then came The Night that was Day.
The Children of the Change had no warning of its coming but neither did the Army of Man. The war raged on as it had for years but on a night otherwise like any other pillars of fire climbed into the sky. The Children of the Change took them as signs of the world’s anger toward Man and many cheered at the sight of them. The Armies of Man seemed to fear them more than they fear us and fled the battles of that night. As we celebrated our unexpected victories the pillars of fire returned to earth bringing with them the Righteous Fire that turns night to day, sand to glass and flesh to ash. These were no instrument of the Earth; these were the ultimate treachery of Man.
The government of Man had finally seen The Change for what it was; a divine process that could not be stopped by the hand of Man. In their arrogance they refused to allow this process to continue anyway and had secretly begun to plan a horribly final solution. They would hide their leaders and their scientists in a protected sanctuary they called an Ark. Once safely hidden away the government of Man unleashed its terrible arsenal of World Killers setting free true plagues of horrible diseases they had bred in laboratories and the scathing fire of their nuclear weapons that caused the Night that was Day. Many souls were extinguished that day but among The Changed losses were far fewer than among the Army of Man which had been left behind, abandoned by its own government. Emboldened by the way The Change protected us we took the war to the Army of Man once more.
Even betrayed as they were by their own heartless government the Armies of Man continued the fight against our ancestors. The war raged for many generations with neither side gaining any advantage. In time the treachery of Man’s government was forgotten, The Army of Man was a constant threat but Man’s government was dead to us then; we had little time to ruminate on its fate. Perhaps if we had we could have stopped Man for good then so many generations ago.
During the time of our 6th generation the Changed Land seemed to gain a fury of its own. By this time we had lost our great leaders to war, disease, and age. The four tribes had themselves fractured into the houses many now trace their lineage from today. New creatures rose up with frightening abilities. In time we learned to adapt and now we use many of these creatures as our own but still more roam the wastelands left after the Night of Righteous Fire. These creatures were little more than monsters and we were not able to use our gifts to coexist in peace. In the end we had no choice but to destroy them wherever we found them lest they destroy us in their misguided rampages. With our ancestors forced to split their resources between the war and the new threat of these creatures it became difficult to continue our campaign to end the race of Man and ensure our safety for all time. A grave decision faced the Tribes and their houses; would we commit fully to the task of eradicating the vile race of Man as our great leaders had demanded so many generations ago, dooming our race to this new threat or would we instead seek peace with the Army of Man so that our warriors would be free to defend our home from these wretched creatures.
Even as the leaders of the Tribes debated the future course of The Changed these creatures also posed a threat to the Army of Man. As our war drew on the Army of Man became more and more like their Children of Steel, the Evomeks. Like all Men they still fought The Change, using their technologies and the artifacts they had collected from the wastelands to hold The Change back and cast its Spirit from their flesh. What they could not remove they simply cast off and replaced with steel. They began calling themselves Biomeks in those days, so different did they feel from the race of Man but all The Changed know that until they embrace the Change as we have they will always be Men. Even this new direction for their people could not save them, like our ancestors they faced a choice of peace with an age old enemy or death at the hands of a new threat.
If only creatures had threatened the Tribes we would have continued our campaign against the Army of Man but other Men, the dregs of those left behind by Man’s government on the Night of Righteous Fire, had become roving bandits who constantly harried the Tribes and stole our meager resources. Though the debate raged on for over a year, all knew that peace with the Army of Man was the only way to ensure our continued survival. By the time we marked the birth of the 7th generation of The Changed we were ready to make peace with the Army of Man.
And so it was that an armistice was signed between The Changed and The Army of Man. The peace lasted many years and in those years we came to understand that The Army of Man was not the race of Man we had sworn an oath of vengeance against. These were new Men, Children of Bone and Metal, who had accepted The Change, but not embraced it. Our ancestors had hope that one day our two races would come to understand each other and through our example they would come to embrace The Change as we had but that hope died, as do all hopes that involve Men, even before our 8th Generation, your fathers’ fathers, was born upon the world.
Our territory had expanded by then to include the jungle to the north and the relics of The Change, what the Army of Man called “alien technology” or “Freidman Devices,” it contained. Many small settlements, usually little more than lone families who wished to live closer to The Land they loved, had spread out from The Citadel. The 8th Generation of the Tribes was to be the first to walk The Land completely free from the troubles of Man but we had grown complacent in our peace with the Army of Man and we paid the price.
It was our settlements that paid the ultimate price that year. One by one the outlying settlements of our territory disappeared, their structures left vacant and not a living soul to speak of what had occurred. We needed no witnesses, the tracks of vehicles were clear on The Land and we had only one enemy who used such machines, The Army of Man. The armistice had been broken and Man had once again left us with naught but pain and empty promises. It is our way to make those who would harm us pay for their sins and this time was no exception. Gareth, the Prime Archon of his day and a descendant of the line of the Archon Marion, demanded a vengeance oath against the Army of Man; the Army of Man would return The Changed they had abducted or they would die at the hands of The Tribes.
It was to be his last act before falling at the Battle of Route 42 in the north. It was a terrible battle, over in mere moments, and many lost their lives there, but none paid the price as dearly as the Army of Man. The battle was not a planned engagement. Gareth together with the Champions and Avengers in his command came across a small unit of Biomek forces apparently in pursuit of their own Children of Steel. Our warriors wasted no time and assaulted the Biomeks from the rear. With the Biomek and Evomek soldiers together our forces were outnumbered but right was on our side and our fury knew no bounds. We set into the Biomeks with all the strength The Spirit of The Change would grant us. In the first assault we beheaded their command, destroying their commander and leaving chaos in our wake. As our forces wheeled around for a second assault the Evomeks entered the fray, not to attack our warriors as you might expect but to attack the Biomeks!
My own grandfather fought beside Gareth in that battle and his words tell the tale best, “The Evomeks were a horror on The Land! A perversion of everything we hold dear, when they attacked the Biomeks we saw them for what they were, unholy dealers of death ensconced in steel.” Gareth and his command brought the fight to the Evomeks as the last of the Biomeks fell to the ground, lifeless. It was only then that Gareth saw the details of Evomeks they fought. They were unlike previous models that the Biomek Army of Man had used. Each mounted new and terrible weapons, obviously incorporating the power of the relics of The Change that had been scattered across The Land. They felt no pain, our gifts could not fell them and Gareth was mortally wounded in the assault. Our forces had no choice but to flee in disgrace. As they turned to leave the field my grandfather watched in horror as the Evomeks stopped their attacks and turned instead to pluck the bodies of the fallen from their vehicles as grisly trophies they carried across the wasteland to whatever hole they called home.
The Evomeks had shown us once again the dark heart of Man when they denied us the right to bury our fallen. It was obvious to our kin that the abducted settlers would never be returned; the Evomeks of the Army of Man had taken their corpses as trophies. Their attacks continued throughout the year and war once more raged across The Land. The 8th generation, the generation of my father, was born into a world at war like every generation before them. Until Man was eliminated there would be no such thing as peace in the Changed World.
We would have gladly ended our ages old conflict in a final battle then and there but for the emergence of the government of Man from its stinking hole, the “Ark.” At first our patrols reported only sightings of Men cloaked in armor that glowed with an inner light but in the years to follow these sightings were replaced with whole patrols that would vanish never to be heard again. By the time the 9th Generation, my own generation, was born it was undeniable, the government of Man had returned. We were surrounded once again by the forces of Man and this we could not abide. Our forces fought every Man they encountered be they Biomek soldiers or the fairer “purists”, the Government of Man, who hid behind their shields of energy. Many battles were fought and many of our elders who survive today personally remember the conflicts of those times.
But the constant battles drained our resources to a dangerous point. Foraging convoys had to range further and further to bring us back the materials we needed to survive. We had to expand our territory or lose these precious resources to the bandits, the Biomeks, or the throwback humans forever which only exposed us to further threats. Ours was no longer a battle for vengeance; survival had once again become our only priority.
And so it has been for every generation since. I myself was born into the 9th generation and fought under the sons of Gareth as a Champion of the Bear Tribe. Together we pushed the throwbacks northwest past the jungle wall while our brethren held the Biomek advance at bay in the badlands of the northeast. Your fathers, the 10th generation of The Changed, continued the fight and secured our territory against incursion. Thanks to them no Man dares approach the Citadel once again and our children are safe from the harm of war.
Now the responsibility lies in your hands, the 11th Generation, to keep The Tribes safe and continue to build our strength. One day we will amass the strength necessary to carry out the vengeance demanded by our ancestors from Jared and Marion through their descendents and the progeny of Gareth.
We have endured much sorrow in our time upon The Land but it has taught us much. We alone of all the races were chosen to become The Changed; the day will come when we will take our rightful place as The Land’s people and walk alone in peace, finally free from the treachery and torment of Man.
Religion
- What is the mutant religion?
The mutants of the central wastes, the Tribes of the Changed, follow a belief system they call 'The Path that is the Way' or simply, 'The Path.' The Path is a doctrine focused around the Change and how it is reflected in the mutant people. Laid out in the times just after the Salem incident by a leader known as 'The Voice,' The Path calls for all of the Changed to band together as kin and work to achieve a spiritual perfection that puts them in balance with the rest of the Changed Land. At first this doctrine was more 'meditative self help regime' than religious belief, but after the Voice was assassinated in Echo Canyon by unknown aggressors, everything changed. Open warfare between the mutants and the military forces laying siege to the Citadel lead to a more aggressive interpretation of the Voice's teachings. Many in the Tribes came to believe that all those who had not undergone the Change had been forsaken, and were therefore not worthy to walk the Changed Land.Methods of belief vary slightly from community to community, but all are arranged around the tribal system created at the time of the Voice's death. Core to this system is the belief that the Change, the mutation spread across the land, was caused by man. Not directly, but as a result of mankind's reckless disregard for each other's well being and the welfare of the world itself. The Land could no longer abide such abuse and Changed to restore balance. As the Changed Land is born, its Spirit chooses those among men who are worthy to continue and Changes them to survive in this new world. Those who undergo the Change are chosen by the Spirit and imbued with its Blood. The Changed each feel a powerful connection to some element of the Changed Land that is reflected in their abilities and eventually, their choice of Tribe.
As a mutant child comes of age, she is taken to a holy site to participate in the Rite of Initiation. In this Rite, the youngling comes to see clearly which of the 4 Tribes (the Bear Tribe, the Spirit Tribe, the Earth Tribe and the Insect Tribe) will become her own. Once the decision is made and the rite is complete, that mutant has several choices - but all are dictated by faith. If the mutant is particularly devout, she might choose to become a Warrior, the ruling class of the Tribes. As a Warrior she will have both great responsibility and great power. A Warrior is expected to spend her life in service to the Tribes as a whole, providing for those who did not become Warriors, dictating the future course of the Tribes, and defending these tight-knit communities from outsiders and hated enemies like the Biomeks.
Alternately one may choose to remain a civilian. Free to pursue their interests, a civilian's only responsibilities are to their particular Tribe's leadership and to their faith, their unswerving belief that the Change and their place in it are necessary for the future well-being and survival of the world.
- Is there a deity in this religion?
The land itself is deified and is divinely manifest in several aspects. At the highest-order is the Spirit - to mutants this refers both to the vaporous form of the contamination and also to the intelligence or soul of the Land itself. When mutants wish to speak of 'god' they often refer to the Changed Land or 'The Land.' Finally, the Land's will is manifest in the Blood, the liquid form of the contamination. The Blood has an empowering and intoxicating affect on mutants. It is used in rituals and visions quests as way to more clearly understand the desire and intent of the Land for the Changed. It has come to be known as the will of the Land for the way it visibly reconfigures the ecology of any environment it comes into contact with. It cannot be contained unless it is the Land's will that it be so contained, much like the Land's chosen people, the Changed.
- What are the regular holidays?
Day to day service, as you might see with a modern religion isn't what you would see in the Tribes. The Path is a personal journey, though one that can only be undertaken with help and guidance from your kin. As such its rituals and observations are more like milestones then holidays. As a devout Tribesmate, a mutant is expected to perform specific Rites throughout their life to confirm their faith and their place upon the Path. In fact, certain important positions and responsibilities are only offered to those Changed that have completed particular rites. A person cannot become a Warrior, for example, unless they have completed the Rites of Ascension. However despite the personal nature of the Path, a community's temple is its heart. In addition to being centers of spiritual study and sanctuary, the day to day business of each town's council is undertaken in its temple and the temples are also the primary education center for the community's children.
Despite the more 'day to day survival' focus on the religion, there are several seasonal holidays that are celebrated in every community.
• Siege/Coldnight - A week of fasting and introspection, called the Siege, is ended with the holiday of Coldnight every year. Coldnight takes place in the winter and on this night the Tribes gather separately to remember the loss of the Voice and the vows that each Tribe took as a result. It is a solemn occasion and it reminds each Tribe of their duty to protect the Changed. The Siege - the fasting that takes place before Coldnight - is a remembrance of the times when Man's army was arrayed against the walls of the Citadel for weeks on end, unable to breach the Tribes' defenses. Mutants fast, consuming nothing but a small vessel of Blood every day, to feel the same determination against adversity that their ancestors felt at that time.
• Night's Day - The shortest night of the year is a time of raucous celebration for the Changed. Called Night's Day, this celebration commemorates the Night that was Day and the end of the original war with Man. In the last generation, this celebration has been more muted than previously - this is due to learning that the government of Man was not destroyed on the Night that was Day. None the less, the original Night that was Day marked the first time the Mutants were truly free and Night's Day is a cherished celebration because of it. On this night, mutants celebrate as individuals; no distinction between tribes or between civilian and Warrior is recognized and members of one Tribe often exchange gifts with members of the other Tribes as tokens of appreciation for their mutual support.
• Victory Day - Called 'Auryn's Day' in the town of Tocado, Victory Day celebrates the Tribe's victory over the armies of the Biomeks in the Battle of Western Front. This celebration occurs in what would be the month of September on the Old World calendar. The victory was an important one for the mutants, as it marked an end to battalion-scale conflict between the mutants and the Biomeks. Though it cost the mutants dearly (Avenger Auryn martyred herself to destroy the invading Biomek commanders), the battle of Western Front taught the Biomeks that such an invasion was impossible without suffering massive losses and putting their own 'Biomek Order' at risk.
• Founding Festival - The Founding festival is a month long gathering and festival in the Citadel that takes place in spring time. The festival celebrates the series of events that culminated in the founding of the Citadel, the first mutant city.
o The first week of the celebration, called the Exodus, is a time of prayer and remembrance. The oral histories of the time before the Citadel are told and mutants from across the Territories of the Changed come to the Citadel as a pilgrimage. The first week ends in the Feast of Secession which marks the day the local government of Man seceded from the national government in protest to the way the national government had treated mutants. If it had not been for the secession, the local government would have been unable to give the Voice the land the Tribes needed to build the Citadel. It was the one and only time in the Tribe's history where Man had reached out a hand in cooperation.
o The second week of the Founding Festival is called Mason's Week. Each day this week the mutants who remain in the Citadel devote themselves to improving and repairing the grand city and each night ends in a city-wide feast and celebration. This week is a time to remember the effort and hardships the first generation of Citadel dwellers faced, as they tried to build their city.
o The third week of the Founding Festival is Warrior's Week. During Warrior's week, daily arena contests are held to crown one Warrior as Defender of the Citadel. Between bouts and celebrations, the Changed remember the heroes who have risen to defend the Tribes against their enemies. The week ends with a foot-tour of the various parks and monuments in the Citadel. At each, the Prime Archon of the Tribes recites a tale of heroism and bravery and remembers the Champions, Archons, Shaman and Avengers of the past.
o The final week of the Founding Festival is known simply as, 'The Retelling.' As the first rays of light touch the council chamber's gleaming dome, the Prime Archon of the Tribes begins a complete retelling of the History of the Tribes. The Prime Archon from every town attends and each of them take turns telling their community's portion of the history until it is brought to the current day. When the retelling is complete a final sermon is delivered by the Prime Archon of the Tribes. This final sermon has, historically, been something of a state of the union address. In this sermon the Prime Archon sets out the Tribes' goals for the coming year and highlights any coming problems, preparing the Tribes for future hardship.
o The Founding Festival typically ends the season of hostility that more extreme members of the Tribes participate in.
• Finally, as autumn comes to the Changed Land, mutants spend a day in reverence to the Changed Land itself. During this day every mutant, be they a Warrior or a Civilian, is tasked with furthering the Change in some way. For most, this is a simple gesture, such as harvesting Blood and spreading it in Unchanged lands, but for some this holiday marks the beginning of a season of hostility towards the Unchanged such as the Biomeks and the Humans. It is not uncommon for more extreme cadres of Avengers or Champions to strike out across the wastelands into Biomek or Human territory, intent on offering them once last chance at salvation; either accept the Change now, and let the Land judge your worth, or die alone and unwanted by the Changed Land and its chosen heralds, the Children of the Change.
- How is the religion practiced day to day?
How one 'walks the Path' is, in many ways, up to each individual. The people that would become the Tribes of the Changed were so oppressed that freedom of expression and choice have become ingrained in their descendants' psyches. However, 'walking the Path' does mean certain codes of conduct are always followed.
• All who accept the Change are Kin - No matter their past, if the Land has deemed someone worthy of the Change then they are our kin. We are few in number and we must work together to further the Change. We do not walk the Path alone.
• If one Tribesmate falls, we all shall follow - No matter one's position within the Tribes; every member of the Tribe is expected to support the others. Be you the community's Prime Archon or a lowly youngling who has not yet chosen a Tribe, you are expected to aid the Tribes in any way you can
• Kin does not fight Kin - Violence amongst Tribesmates is forbidden, except in the case of honorable duels. No matter the offense, no matter the crime, no member of the Tribes may attack another without first seeking the permission of the community's Prime Archon -- the exception is in cases where the Prime Archon has laid out laws for dueling, such as in the Citadel where the population is so large that affronts to honor or decorum are unavoidable.For a civilian, walking the Path means furthering the goals of the Tribes and, through that effort, supporting the Changed Land itself. A civilian will begin each day with a moment of meditation and reflection in their family's garden shrine. In some communities, this might be as simple as taking the morning meal in the shade of the family Xosage tree, but in others this might be a complicated prayer ritual that the entire community participates in. In either case, the purpose is the same - to attune themselves to the will of the Changed Land and focus their efforts for the day. Once the day itself has begun, a civilian will set about their daily work tasks. In most communities, the civilians break at midday to commune together. They discuss the events of the day and then join together in a daily prayer to the Spirit of the Land, asking for continued favor and affirming their faith in the Change and the Tribes. Some communities will use the midday communion as an opportunity to tell that community's history to the younger generations and to recognize the recent achievements of the civilians of the town. In the evening, most civilians spend their time at one of the many taverns or common rooms found in each community. Usually the four tribes each have their own evening gathering places, but they are all boisterous, joyful places. Civilians and Warriors mix here together and each entertains the other with rising and humorous tales of the day. In rare cases the local leadership of each Tribe may address the gathered members of the Tribe to discuss business, but usually this type of business is saved for the week's end and its official addresses and council meetings.
For a Warrior, however, every day is different. As the primary defenders of the Tribes, and its ruling class, the Warriors find themselves in a constant struggle between earning personal recognition and seeing to their duties as Warriors. The political structure of the Warrior caste is deeply intertwined with their faith, in such a way that only the greatest Warriors can hold the greatest positions. To be elevated in your tribe to the role of Prime - be it Prime Archon, Shaman, Avenger or Champion - is to be the best specimen of the Tribes your Tribe has to offer. This is determined by your place along the path - by a counting of which Rites and pilgrimages you have shown yourself devout enough to complete - by your personal deeds as a warrior - as measured by the number of commendations you have earned and the glory associated with your name - and by your standing in the community - a measure of your willingness to help your fellow Tribesmates.
So, a Warrior might start her day in contemplation, much like a civilian, but from that point forward throughout the day, a Warrior may find herself deep in training to complete a dangerous Rite, or alone on patrol, holding the line against the Tribes' enemies. Most communities allow their Warriors to choose their own Path, so there is no mandatory service. None the less, the majority of Warriors in the Tribes indenture themselves to the militias and cadres of their community, serving as the local police and civil defense force. A few, roughly 5 or 10 percent of the total, strike out on their own or join loose cadres called 'clans' in search of fame and glory. Outside of the communities themselves almost every Tribesmate you would meet is one of the 5 - 10 percent to set out on their own. Despite appearances, these Warriors are usually fiercely devout and feel it is their duty to act as the hands of the Tribes, venturing into areas outside of our territory to spread the Change and strike down our enemies.
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