Saturan Jokes
A Saturan, a Seregite, and a Sudanese man were drinking ale when suddenly a genie popped out of the Keg. "You will fall off a cliff, and at the bottom you will find what you wish."
Saying so, he grabbed the Saturan and threw him down the cliff. The Saturan shouted, "By The Golden Sun!" as he fell, and he landed on a pile of gold, and he managed to dive into it and swim to the surface.
Then, he grabbed the Seregite and threw him down the cliff. The Seregite shouted, "By Zorro's chamber pot!" as he fell, and he landed in a pot of holy liquid and he managed to dive into it and swim to the surface.
Finally, he grabbed the Sudanese and threw him down the cliff. The Sudanese shouted, "By the Stones!" as he fell, and he landed on a giant monolith, and he managed to get divided evenly in half by the monument, thus being consecrated by the Church.
Worshipping the stones hurt.
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A Saturan, a Seregite, and a Sudanese man walk into a temple. The Saturan says, "I have two hands of gold to give to the temple." and the sun shone on him while he prayed. The Seregite says, "I have a vial of my own blood to give to the temple" and ideas realm visited him while he prayed. The Sudanses says, "I have a handful of stones to give to the temple" and he got stoned while he prayed.
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If you try to rob a Saturan, his friend will pay you to stop.
If you try to rob a Seregite, he will have nothing, but ask you to keep beating him nonetheless.
If you try to rob a Sudansese, you will get a handful of dried stone… wait, that is no stone! *crap*
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A Saturan is seen at this time a curious mixture of traditional Aktenism and new ideas of Zorrkanism. When joking about themselves, they use the outsider perspective of uncalculablely greedy and cunning.
A Seregite is seen at this time as completely orthodoxically Zorrkanist. Every new commandment from the temple is eagerly taken up, and they enjoyed showing off their tattoos on their… garment-deficient fashions.
A Sudanese man is seen at this time as Stoned, despite that faith only having a slight influence there. Indeed, they accept this role in such jokes, and understand it is simply venting at hard-core (pun intended) stone worshippers to the north.
Junglese Goods
A Saturan, a Seregite and a Sudanese soldier are in a Junglese village, resting after their hard-fought battle scarcely a week before. The Locals are sullen, but have accepted their defeat with magnanimity. Now, the main trouble is to integrate this new land south of Iruba into Satura.
So far, they've been trying out the newest customs among the Junglese, to see if there is anything promising to cultivate and sell. So far, they have found such strange customs as rubbing poop into the pottery to both color it and make the rare clay deposits last longer (perfect for Zulappi chamber bots, remarked the Saturan, especially if it falls apart when they try to toss it out), as well a special "voodoo" poison which gives one a countenance of death, after three days a person can be revived safely, (I wonder how close that brings you to the realm of ideas, spoke the Seregite). Even more important seems to the the thick ooze from the ground which is soaked into their primitive hemp clothes and made into torches (better to power those forges, dear, cried the Sudanese).
Of course, then there is the wonder plant-hemp. The Junglese use it for clothes, for bowstrings, for armor, for torches… even for food. The hemp-burning torches make strange smelling smoke. When the Saturan smelled it, it seemed to smell like paper money. When the Seregite smells it, it smells like ideas are jumping out of his head. When the Sudanese soldier smells it, he feels as if he is stoned. Then, after the great hemp bonfire everyone got this insane craving for small portable foods. Something called "Dim Sun" (to the amazement of the Saturan) is made. It is tiny portions of meat, grain, and fruits wrapped in a hemp dressing and tossed through a hemp fire. Mountains of them are made before the hemp bonfire, and rather quickly these mountains are consumed by men stricken by these strange cravings.
Returning back to base at Iruba, they reported on goods which might be useful, but the number one thing they all focused on; they gotta get some more of that hemp!
To All
Anyone wants to trade for some of our hemp?
Forges of the Orangesmith-11
Aureas is no longer the stout and mighty man of his youth, but what strength he lost to time, he has more than made up with new insights of leadership. He has precious few years left, but with a little luck, he can make the most of it in service to Satura.
Every week, he would walk all the way to Sereg to inspect the growing forging complex there, and he will singlehandedly smith a full set of armor before returning to Waset. Most of the forges are satisfactory, but others he deemed too shoddy and were closed. The armor and weapons he made went towards arming a new generation of spearmen.
However, at Napata he let himself be a bit more experimental. There are many ores and crystals in the mountains which he cast into the brick-lined bowl and watched as it slowly melted. Silver, copper, tin, even a strange metal which seemed to be a mix of Silver and Tin, although no matter how me mixed it himself, he could't attain either its silvery sheen nor its tin-like toughness.
And so he tried again and again, building newer, larger, better forges with more bellows, more charcoal. The flames grew hotter and hotter under his tender care, and his hair, once white, once more became black, as black as the soot he shifted for nuggets of the strange metal. Finally, he has retrieved a bar of pure Silvertin, and in his glee, he lifted his mighty hammer one last time and blacksmithed the first Saturan Sword.
It is said that the beauty of the sword broke his heart, for he died the very next day.
And so the Orangesmith ends his life as the first blacksmith in Saturan history.
The Inquisitor General
The robed figure stood in the darkness, stoic and silent, under the Palace. A jar of the pickled grouper laid open, and one after another, the rancid fish disappeared into his mouth, to be chewed and swallowed, so that its strength may purify him from within.
The door opened, and two other robbed figures entered. With a wave, the robbed guards left.
"Welcome back to Waset, my fellow Inquisitor Captains. I have received your reports and I've decided to reward you exactly as you deserve. "
One of the robbed figure seemed to stand even straighter, while the other positively cowered.
"Octavian, Inquisitor-Captain of Ur. You have reeducated over nine thousand heretics personally, and led your team to twart the agents of the Philosopher King. You may be young, but you deserve the title Captain-Heir of the Inquisitorial Order of Zorrkanism."
"YOU, Hadrian, Inquisitor-Captain of Persia. Since you have failed in reeducating others… you shall be reeducated."
Hadrian's eyes grew large, and its fearful reflection can bee seen through the shadows of his robe.
"Oh, and we won't use those old tortures. Have you ever had fingernails pulled out by a rusty pliers? Ah, I forgot, you don't even know what rust is! Don't worry, well, do, but you'll find out soon enough."
"Octavian, please promote one of your men to be the new Inquistor-Captain of Persia."
"Inquisitorial Council dismissed,"
OOC: I always find labeling stories to be gamey, especially when the story only refers to the chosen bonus in passing. I thus put my head where my mouth is and will refuse to label my stories, and dare SKILORD to label all of them as Cultural and face my wrath. See if you can figure out which is which.
