The Celestial Bureaucracy
- Thread starter Tomorrow's Dawn
- Start date
Tomorrow's Dawn
Heroes Never Die
The latest chapter has now been updated with images.
Also, I will award a Cookie to the first person to recognize
the character I based 67118's visual appearance on.
The Dawn's Reference Cookie.
Also, I will award a Cookie to the first person to recognize
the character I based 67118's visual appearance on.
The Dawn's Reference Cookie.
Bair_the_Normal
転輪聖王
Cavalry and Rifles versus Axes and, Knights, Trebs, Maces, and Crossbows eh? Huge gap between tech levels here.
Tomorrow's Dawn
Heroes Never Die
Tomorrow's Dawn
Heroes Never Die
^Esus, Celtic (specifically Gallic) god of agriculture, I presume?
Or is it more of the FFH stuff that borrows from the mythology?
First technology exchange in a long time.
"We'll begin conducting the test right now. Please clear your mind and remain focused."
"What is your name?"
"Hwang In Soo."
"Are your parents alive?"
"Yes."
"Are you married?"
"...No."
"Have you been sleeping regularly?"
"Ever since I've been in the Army's custody, yes."
"How about your dietary habits?"
"They've been fine as well. Three meals a day."
"Do you pay your respects to the shen?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe in the shen?"
"No."
"Do you believe in the Jewish God?"
"No."
"I see."
The psychiatrist directed him to a richly furnished couch. Judging by the make, it was likely taken from a wealthy Aryan household and re-purposed as the psychiatrist's couch.
"Please lie down on this couch. We will begin talking about what is on your mind.
Tell me, about the Ecbatana prison, if you're comfortable to talk about it, that is."
"I lost track of the time, I can't even remember how long I was in there for.
I was innocent! I wasn't a spy, but the jailors never listened. It made no difference to them.
Everyday, they brought so much food. There was nothing to do but eat all day, and they would stretch the time between the meals.
I was in there so long, in that small, dank space, that I thought my limbs would atrophy.
I thought..." He thought of his parents, his friends and... her. "I would never get to say my final goodbyes."
From her face, it drifted to that of the Aryan noblewoman, which had haunted his dreams with her porcelain face and how it twisted into immeasurable hatred as she was engulfed by the inferno.
"And-" Hwang paused. "-I don't want to talk about it."
"This session is provided free of charge on behalf of the government." the psychiatrist spoke.
"The Empire takes the health of its' subjects very seriously.
Now, keeping things that trouble you to yourself is a primary cause of a number of stress-related disorders.
If you are concerned that this may affect your academic standing, rest assured that this session is strictly confidential."
Hwang hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"There was a woman in one of the prison cells. She wasn't one of the prisoners.
She was an aristocrat, from what I could tell, from how she was dressed.
I had seen them before, shifting around in the prison.
But I found out what they really were on the night of the escape."
"Go on. What were they?"
"They're blood-drinkers. The whole prison was just a farm for harvesting human blood.
The meals? It was just to fatten us up in preparation for those monsters.
It was a human foie gras farm.
They only do it only the lowest floors, so nobody knows what's happening."
Hwang's hand started to shake as he recollected more of his traumatic experience.
"I can't get the image out of my head. Of the woman who bit into the prisoner's neck.
She drank so much blood- and when she looked at me hungrily, I thought I was going to die."
The psychiatrist stared back at him with a straight face.
"Thank you very much, Hwang. You've been very helpful."
A little bit of scribbling later and the psychiatrist handed Hwang a doctor-patient report.
"I passed? There's nothing wrong with my mental health?"
"Nothing whatsoever." the psychiatrist didn't even look up from his clipboard as he scribbled away.
Hwang himself felt a little uneasy. What he had just described was certainly not normal.
It was hard to even talk about it again and the thought of it was making him want to vomit.
But more than anything, he was sure he had just been diagnosed with a mental disorder;
either that or the psychiatrist was lying.
The psychiatrist turned from his desk and procured a small paper bag.
"Take this herbal remedy. Two times a day, once during breakfast and once alongside your evening tea.
There is no need to refill this prescription, as soon as you're done with it, your problems should be alleviated.
This is to help relieve your anxiety, of which you are suffering from a mild case of.
I assure you Mr. Hwang, you have absolutely no mental problems whatsoever.
You are free to return to regular life whenever you please."
As Hwang left the office, the psychiatrist retired to his desk and began filing some papers.
Once they were in order, he opened up a hidden drawer to reveal a strangely ornate book.
Opening it, he wrote inside the book, only the have his message evaporate from the pages immediately.
"Agent Kaiming reporting in.
I've distributed the last of the neuralyzer serum.
The awareness breach should be under control.
Mission complete."
Hwang walked through the corridors of the governor's residence,
which had been converted into a temporary military headquarters and residence for rescued Chinese subjects.
He had no idea what might have happened to his Aryan classmates or his professor during the seizure of the city.
There was no one here that he knew anymore, or knew how to contact. Except for 67118.
In the courtyard, Hwang found him sitting peacefully by the glistening pool of water that lay in the center.
The older man noticed Hwang and greeted him.
"So they released you?"
"No mental problems."
"That's what they've told everyone. I suppose they gave you those herbs too?"
"Yeah." In person, it was kind of strange.
They did not converse as they did when there was a brick wall between them.
But Hwang knew he owed this man his freedom, or rather,
had helped him to hold out hope that escape was possible.
"What are you going to do now?"
"I'm on the first boat out to Mecca. From there, I go home to Nubia."
"I'm on the land convoy back to core China myself.
I have to wait till the morrow to leave though." Hwang said.
"My boat actually leaves in three hours. But.
I owe you an explanation, from that one time."
"What one time?"
"When I told you I would one day explain why I became an atheist."
"If you're really leaving so soon, then I have some time to listen now."
"Very well, 67117."
"Like my own parents, I never put much stock into Judaism.
It wasn't as if I disregarded God, I believed in him in some form or another.
We didn't abstain from practice out of self-hatred or disdain, but because our lifestyles were fine without its presence.
So when I settled down to raise a family with my wife, who was similarly minded,
we sent our children to the secular schools the Xia helped fund and thought ourselves content with that decision.
We thought nothing of it. We had put two older children through it before and our third child was well into his second year of schooling.
I was working as a postal clerk when it happened one day in the summer.
One of my fellow clerks burst through the door, late to work.
"I've been covering your shift for twenty minutes now, where were you?"
"Beherawi District, there are militants there!"
"There's a lunatic every day in front of the Governor's Palace, why should I care?"
"No, it's EMET, the militant Hamitic group!"
"So what? They issue threats all the time, but nothing ever comes out of it."
My co-worker shook me that time, bringing him to my full attention.
"No! You don't understand!"
"What don't I understand? Speak."
"They've taken over Mengestu Secular School and are holding children hostage!"
"What?!"
When I arrived at the scene, the EMET leader could be seen atop the school roof, holding a young girl hostage and belting a speech to the onlookers.
"Why do the Xia tax our synagogues?!
Have they not enough silver from their tyrannical rampages across God's creation?
We Nubians should not associate with godless half-men.
We are better than that, as sons of Ham.
We should throw off the Chinese yoke, kick out the royal Adesina family
and rejoin our rightful place among the Judaic family of nations!!"
"What are your demands?" the police chief interrupted him from below,
flanked by a number of riflemen, poised to shoot.
"These are the demands of EMET.
You bring five million yuan from the local treasury in marked sacks.
The equivalent value of what you've deprived the synagogues of over the past ten years.
You give us quarter to exit when the contract has been satisfied.
You abolish the religious taxes on the synagogues. And you do not retaliate against the synagogues.
If you do not comply with EMET's demands, I will kill one child each day on the twenty-third hour.
The number will increase by square with each passing day."
"Leave the children out of this!
We can negotiate but no harm must come to the children!
They are the flesh & blood of your fellow Nubians! You can't do this!"
The EMET leader scowled and held the knife closer to the young girl's neck as he spat back towards the police chief.
"The day they turned their backs from Judaism,
from your insidious Chinese influence, they ceased being fellow Nubians.
Just like the whores of the Adesina family who have sullied the noble blood of Ham by consorting with the Han.
Remember. I will kill one child on the twenty-third hour for each day that my demands are not met.
As the mouth of EMET, I give no more, no less."
The police chief gritted his teeth. "I will talk to the governor,
but I need a guarantee that no harm will come to the teachers or the students."
"I give Wudang scum such as you no guarantees."
"If you can give no guarantees, how am I to ensure that you hold your end of the bargain?"
"Believe in God."
My wife arrived by my side an hour into the crisis and we waited anxiously by the police lines as we dreaded the worst.
The negotiations had passed slowly and was delayed for some time, eventually passing the twenty-third hour mark.
True to their word, EMET militants dumped a body from off the rooftop.
It was not my child, but as I saw the body fall, it only heightened my sense of urgency.
Together, with the rest of the parents and a body of concerned subjects at an emergency assembly at the Governor's palace,
we demanded that they cave in to their demands, even at the cost of draining the treasury.
He said he would consider and that he was currently looking into the best course of action.
The first Chinese settlement in Meizhou was established alongside the Aztlán border.
Two days had passed and as promised, EMET had killed three students in plain view, kicking their dead bodies off the roof.
The parents, myself included, were screaming for the governor to take action. And he did.
The sack was delivered on the third day of the crisis via crane for the EMET leader and his top subordinates above the roof.
I remember with incredible clarity. He opened the sack and his eyes became wide like the zenith of the sun.
"These are explosives! Damn Wudang cowar-!!"
The explosion went off and consumed all of them in the ensuing fire, sending his body flying off the building.
"No quarter for the militants!!"
From hidden corners around the perimeter, Addis Ababa police swarmed into Mengestu and shots rang out in every direction.
The nearby civilians panicked and fled in all directions, but I could not flee. I needed to know what happened to my child.
I was holding out hope, and I prayed for the first time that my son would be alive as I ran.
In the chaos, I was able to enter the building, and was horrified to discover that the floor was a sea of small bodies.
I burst through the police lines and ran into the school, trying to reach my son.
When I reached his classroom, I found my child lying bloody and lifeless atop a mountain of bodies, his throat slashed.
The police pulled me away before I could reach him and cradle his face."
The aftermath was catastrophic. Seven police officers were killed during the siege,
and an additional eleven were wounded. All thirty four EMET militants had died.
It was even worse for the civilians. All of the teachers had been raped, killed or a combination of both.
Blood writing on the wall proclaimed it was just punishment delivered upon these sinful women daring to become teachers.
EMET had reneged on the deal as well. Of the four hundred fifty two students who attended Mengestu, only sixty five survived.
Many were taken to the basement and massacred there.
The governor was sacked by directive from Louyang, as the image of rulers who cared more for silver than the welfare of their subjects was not an image they wanted to portray.
Ultimately, my wife and I received compensation for the loss of our child but that did not make things right.
No one won.
Not the Orthodox Jews, not the loyalist Jews, not the Chinese.
And not the children.
"I left my trade and Nubia, always drifting, but always in Chinese Arabia or Saxony, or core China.
I did plenty of things; Soldier of fortune, merchant, sailor, anything to keep me away from that home I could never bear to remain in for long.
I still periodically went back to visit my wife and children, but it was just my way of coping."
"If there was a just God, he would not have let those children die.
He would not have let my child die.
That isn't how religion works though and while I eventually accepted that,
the one thing I could never accept was hearing on occasion,
remarks from Orthodox Jews that those children deserved to die.
Remarks that because they and their parents turned their back on their blood faith,
that we were somehow responsible for our own tragedy.
That I was responsible for a tragedy inflicted on me,
by people who disapproved of my choices.
People who justified it in the name of God.
And I am driven to question the existence of a just god in the face of zealots
who use his name to carry out unspeakable pain upon innocents like my son."
"You once asked me why I was an atheist.
You have your answer."
There was a long silence.
"Why would you share this with me? That you were involved in the Mengestu Crisis?"
"I don't know. We talked a lot in prison. Or at least you talked a lot.
You reminded me of my father when he was younger.
He was a scholar like you after all. So naive and care-free though.
But it isn't all bad. You're inquisitive, just like him too.
I will be returning to Nubia; after an episode like this, I doubt I'll be doing much traveling.
I've been away from my family for too long, trying too hard not to face my son's death.
I don't think they would want to lose me too and after my stay in the prison, I know that I've been selfish."
"I'm taking the land convoy back to core China on the morrow, but, I feel obligated to you.
If it weren't for you, I would've given up my resolve to ever see daylight again.
And you saved my life when you held me back from boarding the lift."
"Don't be. You saved my life from that... blood drinker.
I still don't know what to make of that myself.
But you can say that we have both repaid each others' debts."
67118 looked at the sundial. He had to make ready for the voyage.
The weathered ex-prisoner notified Hwang of this.
"What is your name? I can't just remember you as 67118.
And I can't just be known as 67117. My name is Hwang In Soo."
"Iyasu. Iyasu Hackl."
"Till the next life then,"
"There is no next life. You would do well to remember that and live without regrets.
Safe travels, young scholar."
The Sino-Aryan War ends with the Chinese Mali capture of the Aryan capital of Persepolis.
General Trieu, for his distinguished service returns home and is hailed as a war hero.
Or is it more of the FFH stuff that borrows from the mythology?
Spoiler :
First technology exchange in a long time.
"We'll begin conducting the test right now. Please clear your mind and remain focused."
"What is your name?"
"Hwang In Soo."
"Are your parents alive?"
"Yes."
"Are you married?"
"...No."
"Have you been sleeping regularly?"
"Ever since I've been in the Army's custody, yes."
"How about your dietary habits?"
"They've been fine as well. Three meals a day."
"Do you pay your respects to the shen?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe in the shen?"
"No."
"Do you believe in the Jewish God?"
"No."
"I see."
The psychiatrist directed him to a richly furnished couch. Judging by the make, it was likely taken from a wealthy Aryan household and re-purposed as the psychiatrist's couch.
"Please lie down on this couch. We will begin talking about what is on your mind.
Tell me, about the Ecbatana prison, if you're comfortable to talk about it, that is."
"I lost track of the time, I can't even remember how long I was in there for.
I was innocent! I wasn't a spy, but the jailors never listened. It made no difference to them.
Everyday, they brought so much food. There was nothing to do but eat all day, and they would stretch the time between the meals.
I was in there so long, in that small, dank space, that I thought my limbs would atrophy.
I thought..." He thought of his parents, his friends and... her. "I would never get to say my final goodbyes."
From her face, it drifted to that of the Aryan noblewoman, which had haunted his dreams with her porcelain face and how it twisted into immeasurable hatred as she was engulfed by the inferno.
"And-" Hwang paused. "-I don't want to talk about it."
"This session is provided free of charge on behalf of the government." the psychiatrist spoke.
"The Empire takes the health of its' subjects very seriously.
Now, keeping things that trouble you to yourself is a primary cause of a number of stress-related disorders.
If you are concerned that this may affect your academic standing, rest assured that this session is strictly confidential."
Hwang hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"There was a woman in one of the prison cells. She wasn't one of the prisoners.
She was an aristocrat, from what I could tell, from how she was dressed.
I had seen them before, shifting around in the prison.
But I found out what they really were on the night of the escape."
"Go on. What were they?"
"They're blood-drinkers. The whole prison was just a farm for harvesting human blood.
The meals? It was just to fatten us up in preparation for those monsters.
It was a human foie gras farm.
They only do it only the lowest floors, so nobody knows what's happening."
Hwang's hand started to shake as he recollected more of his traumatic experience.
"I can't get the image out of my head. Of the woman who bit into the prisoner's neck.
She drank so much blood- and when she looked at me hungrily, I thought I was going to die."
The psychiatrist stared back at him with a straight face.
"Thank you very much, Hwang. You've been very helpful."
A little bit of scribbling later and the psychiatrist handed Hwang a doctor-patient report.
"I passed? There's nothing wrong with my mental health?"
"Nothing whatsoever." the psychiatrist didn't even look up from his clipboard as he scribbled away.
Hwang himself felt a little uneasy. What he had just described was certainly not normal.
It was hard to even talk about it again and the thought of it was making him want to vomit.
But more than anything, he was sure he had just been diagnosed with a mental disorder;
either that or the psychiatrist was lying.
The psychiatrist turned from his desk and procured a small paper bag.
"Take this herbal remedy. Two times a day, once during breakfast and once alongside your evening tea.
There is no need to refill this prescription, as soon as you're done with it, your problems should be alleviated.
This is to help relieve your anxiety, of which you are suffering from a mild case of.
I assure you Mr. Hwang, you have absolutely no mental problems whatsoever.
You are free to return to regular life whenever you please."
As Hwang left the office, the psychiatrist retired to his desk and began filing some papers.
Once they were in order, he opened up a hidden drawer to reveal a strangely ornate book.
Opening it, he wrote inside the book, only the have his message evaporate from the pages immediately.
"Agent Kaiming reporting in.
I've distributed the last of the neuralyzer serum.
The awareness breach should be under control.
Mission complete."
Hwang walked through the corridors of the governor's residence,
which had been converted into a temporary military headquarters and residence for rescued Chinese subjects.
He had no idea what might have happened to his Aryan classmates or his professor during the seizure of the city.
There was no one here that he knew anymore, or knew how to contact. Except for 67118.
In the courtyard, Hwang found him sitting peacefully by the glistening pool of water that lay in the center.
The older man noticed Hwang and greeted him.
"So they released you?"
"No mental problems."
"That's what they've told everyone. I suppose they gave you those herbs too?"
"Yeah." In person, it was kind of strange.
They did not converse as they did when there was a brick wall between them.
But Hwang knew he owed this man his freedom, or rather,
had helped him to hold out hope that escape was possible.
"What are you going to do now?"
"I'm on the first boat out to Mecca. From there, I go home to Nubia."
"I'm on the land convoy back to core China myself.
I have to wait till the morrow to leave though." Hwang said.
"My boat actually leaves in three hours. But.
I owe you an explanation, from that one time."
"What one time?"
"When I told you I would one day explain why I became an atheist."
"If you're really leaving so soon, then I have some time to listen now."
"Very well, 67117."
"Like my own parents, I never put much stock into Judaism.
It wasn't as if I disregarded God, I believed in him in some form or another.
We didn't abstain from practice out of self-hatred or disdain, but because our lifestyles were fine without its presence.
So when I settled down to raise a family with my wife, who was similarly minded,
we sent our children to the secular schools the Xia helped fund and thought ourselves content with that decision.
We thought nothing of it. We had put two older children through it before and our third child was well into his second year of schooling.
I was working as a postal clerk when it happened one day in the summer.
One of my fellow clerks burst through the door, late to work.
"I've been covering your shift for twenty minutes now, where were you?"
"Beherawi District, there are militants there!"
"There's a lunatic every day in front of the Governor's Palace, why should I care?"
"No, it's EMET, the militant Hamitic group!"
"So what? They issue threats all the time, but nothing ever comes out of it."
My co-worker shook me that time, bringing him to my full attention.
"No! You don't understand!"
"What don't I understand? Speak."
"They've taken over Mengestu Secular School and are holding children hostage!"
"What?!"
When I arrived at the scene, the EMET leader could be seen atop the school roof, holding a young girl hostage and belting a speech to the onlookers.
"Why do the Xia tax our synagogues?!
Have they not enough silver from their tyrannical rampages across God's creation?
We Nubians should not associate with godless half-men.
We are better than that, as sons of Ham.
We should throw off the Chinese yoke, kick out the royal Adesina family
and rejoin our rightful place among the Judaic family of nations!!"
"What are your demands?" the police chief interrupted him from below,
flanked by a number of riflemen, poised to shoot.
"These are the demands of EMET.
You bring five million yuan from the local treasury in marked sacks.
The equivalent value of what you've deprived the synagogues of over the past ten years.
You give us quarter to exit when the contract has been satisfied.
You abolish the religious taxes on the synagogues. And you do not retaliate against the synagogues.
If you do not comply with EMET's demands, I will kill one child each day on the twenty-third hour.
The number will increase by square with each passing day."
"Leave the children out of this!
We can negotiate but no harm must come to the children!
They are the flesh & blood of your fellow Nubians! You can't do this!"
The EMET leader scowled and held the knife closer to the young girl's neck as he spat back towards the police chief.
"The day they turned their backs from Judaism,
from your insidious Chinese influence, they ceased being fellow Nubians.
Just like the whores of the Adesina family who have sullied the noble blood of Ham by consorting with the Han.
Remember. I will kill one child on the twenty-third hour for each day that my demands are not met.
As the mouth of EMET, I give no more, no less."
The police chief gritted his teeth. "I will talk to the governor,
but I need a guarantee that no harm will come to the teachers or the students."
"I give Wudang scum such as you no guarantees."
"If you can give no guarantees, how am I to ensure that you hold your end of the bargain?"
"Believe in God."
My wife arrived by my side an hour into the crisis and we waited anxiously by the police lines as we dreaded the worst.
The negotiations had passed slowly and was delayed for some time, eventually passing the twenty-third hour mark.
True to their word, EMET militants dumped a body from off the rooftop.
It was not my child, but as I saw the body fall, it only heightened my sense of urgency.
Together, with the rest of the parents and a body of concerned subjects at an emergency assembly at the Governor's palace,
we demanded that they cave in to their demands, even at the cost of draining the treasury.
He said he would consider and that he was currently looking into the best course of action.
The first Chinese settlement in Meizhou was established alongside the Aztlán border.
Two days had passed and as promised, EMET had killed three students in plain view, kicking their dead bodies off the roof.
The parents, myself included, were screaming for the governor to take action. And he did.
The sack was delivered on the third day of the crisis via crane for the EMET leader and his top subordinates above the roof.
I remember with incredible clarity. He opened the sack and his eyes became wide like the zenith of the sun.
"These are explosives! Damn Wudang cowar-!!"
The explosion went off and consumed all of them in the ensuing fire, sending his body flying off the building.
"No quarter for the militants!!"
From hidden corners around the perimeter, Addis Ababa police swarmed into Mengestu and shots rang out in every direction.
The nearby civilians panicked and fled in all directions, but I could not flee. I needed to know what happened to my child.
I was holding out hope, and I prayed for the first time that my son would be alive as I ran.
In the chaos, I was able to enter the building, and was horrified to discover that the floor was a sea of small bodies.
I burst through the police lines and ran into the school, trying to reach my son.
When I reached his classroom, I found my child lying bloody and lifeless atop a mountain of bodies, his throat slashed.
The police pulled me away before I could reach him and cradle his face."
The aftermath was catastrophic. Seven police officers were killed during the siege,
and an additional eleven were wounded. All thirty four EMET militants had died.
It was even worse for the civilians. All of the teachers had been raped, killed or a combination of both.
Blood writing on the wall proclaimed it was just punishment delivered upon these sinful women daring to become teachers.
EMET had reneged on the deal as well. Of the four hundred fifty two students who attended Mengestu, only sixty five survived.
Many were taken to the basement and massacred there.
The governor was sacked by directive from Louyang, as the image of rulers who cared more for silver than the welfare of their subjects was not an image they wanted to portray.
Ultimately, my wife and I received compensation for the loss of our child but that did not make things right.
No one won.
Not the Orthodox Jews, not the loyalist Jews, not the Chinese.
And not the children.
"I left my trade and Nubia, always drifting, but always in Chinese Arabia or Saxony, or core China.
I did plenty of things; Soldier of fortune, merchant, sailor, anything to keep me away from that home I could never bear to remain in for long.
I still periodically went back to visit my wife and children, but it was just my way of coping."
"If there was a just God, he would not have let those children die.
He would not have let my child die.
That isn't how religion works though and while I eventually accepted that,
the one thing I could never accept was hearing on occasion,
remarks from Orthodox Jews that those children deserved to die.
Remarks that because they and their parents turned their back on their blood faith,
that we were somehow responsible for our own tragedy.
That I was responsible for a tragedy inflicted on me,
by people who disapproved of my choices.
People who justified it in the name of God.
And I am driven to question the existence of a just god in the face of zealots
who use his name to carry out unspeakable pain upon innocents like my son."
"You once asked me why I was an atheist.
You have your answer."
There was a long silence.
"Why would you share this with me? That you were involved in the Mengestu Crisis?"
"I don't know. We talked a lot in prison. Or at least you talked a lot.
You reminded me of my father when he was younger.
He was a scholar like you after all. So naive and care-free though.
But it isn't all bad. You're inquisitive, just like him too.
I will be returning to Nubia; after an episode like this, I doubt I'll be doing much traveling.
I've been away from my family for too long, trying too hard not to face my son's death.
I don't think they would want to lose me too and after my stay in the prison, I know that I've been selfish."
"I'm taking the land convoy back to core China on the morrow, but, I feel obligated to you.
If it weren't for you, I would've given up my resolve to ever see daylight again.
And you saved my life when you held me back from boarding the lift."
"Don't be. You saved my life from that... blood drinker.
I still don't know what to make of that myself.
But you can say that we have both repaid each others' debts."
67118 looked at the sundial. He had to make ready for the voyage.
The weathered ex-prisoner notified Hwang of this.
"What is your name? I can't just remember you as 67118.
And I can't just be known as 67117. My name is Hwang In Soo."
"Iyasu. Iyasu Hackl."
"Till the next life then,"
"There is no next life. You would do well to remember that and live without regrets.
Safe travels, young scholar."
The Sino-Aryan War ends with the Chinese Mali capture of the Aryan capital of Persepolis.
General Trieu, for his distinguished service returns home and is hailed as a war hero.
Civ'ed
I ain't gotta explain a thing
Mali be trollin 
Esus, as in FFH Divine Intervention game. Great update.
Daedwartin
Emperor
- Joined
- Jan 6, 2012
- Messages
- 1,785
So the great schemer has descended on china...WE ARE SO SCREWED.
Tomorrow's Dawn
Heroes Never Die
I'm pleased to announce that The Celestial Bureaucracy will be doing another crossover!
This time with the truly amazing Civ III story: Blood & Iron: Conquests of the Chancellor by MTB4884.
^Follow with the link as always, it's an exceptional story that's not to be missed.
You can find my crossovers for the Blood & Iron side here:
A Storybook Princess
A Storybook Princess Pt. 2
This time with the truly amazing Civ III story: Blood & Iron: Conquests of the Chancellor by MTB4884.
^Follow with the link as always, it's an exceptional story that's not to be missed.
You can find my crossovers for the Blood & Iron side here:
A Storybook Princess
A Storybook Princess Pt. 2
MTB4884
Emperor
Chancellor's Dream Part 1
Chancellor Otto von Bismarck found himself surrounded by white, billowy clouds. He saw a vision of a man approaching him, striding through the clouds as though they were solid ground. He was wearing an older style greatcoat of blue silk, with white trim on the edges. A monocle hung loosely from his right eye, and his white hair blended with the clouds. His blue eyes flashed as he smiled. He looked familiar, but the Chancellor could not immediately place him.
The other man addressed him in a deep, commanding, yet friendly tone. So, Otto, you finally got here.
Who are you, sir?
I am surprised that you do not recognize me, my grandson. I am Chancellor Friedrich von Bismarck, once leader of the German Despotate, and more recently the first elected leader of the German Empire.
The man addressing the Chancellor closely resembled the official portrait which had hung in the Imperial Museum for decades. One obvious point troubled Chancellor Otto. But...you died fifty years ago! How can I be speaking to you now?
Indeed I did, grandson. Now you bear the title of Chancellor, and the responsibility to Germany and to her people as well
Where am I, then, Grandfather?
The other man smiled at the Chancellor. That, grandson, is not the point just now. You must make a perilous journey, alone, into a strange new world. The very future of the German Empire you lead is at stake.
What must I do, Grandfather?
Again the other man smiled. You must give this coin to the leader of Saxony.
Saxony? I do not understand, Grandfather. Saxony is merely the ancient name for a province of Germany.
That is so in the German Empire you know, my grandson. You will understand when you get there. The figure of Chancellor Friedrich began to fade into the clouds. Suddenly the Chancellor found himself along the side of a road. He looked about for a moment. There was no sign of the rail lines which were spreading across the Empire. The Chancellor was wearing a blue tunic, with a matching sash across the front. His ivory cane and his money wallet were in their usual places, though his normal dress uniform with its medals was gone. Perhaps it is just as well. I will have to blend in for the moment to find this ruler of Saxony Grandfather spoke of.
For now, the next question was getting to Berlin. There was no sign of a carriage, and so the Chancellor began his journey on foot. He crested a small rise and saw a small town just below. Perhaps the stagecoach lines reach here.
The Chancellor entered the small town, looking for any sign of a stagecoach terminal. It was early in the morning, and no one was abroad on the streets. Reasoning that the terminal would be near the center of town, the Chancellor continued along the road. His hunch was soon proven correct when he saw a stagecoach turn into a side street three blocks ahead. The Chancellor felt a sense of unease as he arrived at the terminal office a minute later and saw the sign overhead, with two lines upon it. One line was in a strange script which the Chancellor had never seen before, while the other was written in German and said Alfeld Stage Lines.
Grandfather did say this was a strange new world. The Chancellor dismissed his doubts for the moment and opened the door and stepped inside the terminal. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight outside to the relative gloom within. There were a few benches, with perhaps a dozen travelers sitting and waiting. The coach which had just arrived was just visible behind the ticket counter. A half dozen people were waiting in line, and the Chancellor took a place at the rear of the line. Where is the chamberlain when I need him?
His reverie was broken by a woman's shout behind him. Stop, thief! A young man, presumably the thief complained of, was sprinting rapidly towards the line, with a purple satchel embossed in gold dangling loosely from his left hand. The Chancellor swung his cane, with the reflexes of an Indian mongoose, between the legs of the fleeing thief. The man fell heavily to the ground, dropping his ill-gotten booty. He gave the Chancellor a muttered imprecation and turned to flee to safety.
The thief's flight was stopped by a heavy hand as a guard grabbed the thief by the back of the collar. Not so fast, there! The Chancellor was startled at the uniform of the guard, which was a deep maroon with black collars and trim. The guard turned his attention from his captive to the Chancellor. Thank you for your help, sir.
It is my pleasure, guardsman.
The guard looked oddly at the Chancellor for a moment, and then turned as a large woman came up. I believe this is yours, madam, said the Chancellor, handing over the satchel to her. Are you all right?
The woman paused for breath. Thank you so much, kind sir. Please, who are you? She spoke in perfect German, though she had an odd accent which the Chancellor had not heard before and could not immediately place.
Perhaps I should not publicly identify myself as the Chancellor for the moment. I am Otto von Bismarck, at your service, madam.
The ticket clerk coughed once behind them. Excuse me, sir. Can I help you? He too had the same odd accent in his speech.
I would like a stagecoach ticket to Berlin, if you please.
Of course, sir. The clerk busied himself for a moment behind the counter. That will be 8 yuan, sir.
Herr von Bismarck, I too am traveling to Berlin. Please, allow me to pay your fare thither as well. Her tone was polite, with a hint of steel resolution behind it.
Madam, I do not wish to impose..
Oh, but I must! Such gallantry deserves a proper reward. The woman quickly handed some coins to the clerk, who nodded. There was a brief noise as the guardsman hauled the thief out of the terminal office, presumably towards the local jail.
Chancellor Otto von Bismarck found himself surrounded by white, billowy clouds. He saw a vision of a man approaching him, striding through the clouds as though they were solid ground. He was wearing an older style greatcoat of blue silk, with white trim on the edges. A monocle hung loosely from his right eye, and his white hair blended with the clouds. His blue eyes flashed as he smiled. He looked familiar, but the Chancellor could not immediately place him.
The other man addressed him in a deep, commanding, yet friendly tone. So, Otto, you finally got here.
Who are you, sir?
I am surprised that you do not recognize me, my grandson. I am Chancellor Friedrich von Bismarck, once leader of the German Despotate, and more recently the first elected leader of the German Empire.
The man addressing the Chancellor closely resembled the official portrait which had hung in the Imperial Museum for decades. One obvious point troubled Chancellor Otto. But...you died fifty years ago! How can I be speaking to you now?
Indeed I did, grandson. Now you bear the title of Chancellor, and the responsibility to Germany and to her people as well
Where am I, then, Grandfather?
The other man smiled at the Chancellor. That, grandson, is not the point just now. You must make a perilous journey, alone, into a strange new world. The very future of the German Empire you lead is at stake.
What must I do, Grandfather?
Again the other man smiled. You must give this coin to the leader of Saxony.
Saxony? I do not understand, Grandfather. Saxony is merely the ancient name for a province of Germany.
That is so in the German Empire you know, my grandson. You will understand when you get there. The figure of Chancellor Friedrich began to fade into the clouds. Suddenly the Chancellor found himself along the side of a road. He looked about for a moment. There was no sign of the rail lines which were spreading across the Empire. The Chancellor was wearing a blue tunic, with a matching sash across the front. His ivory cane and his money wallet were in their usual places, though his normal dress uniform with its medals was gone. Perhaps it is just as well. I will have to blend in for the moment to find this ruler of Saxony Grandfather spoke of.
For now, the next question was getting to Berlin. There was no sign of a carriage, and so the Chancellor began his journey on foot. He crested a small rise and saw a small town just below. Perhaps the stagecoach lines reach here.
The Chancellor entered the small town, looking for any sign of a stagecoach terminal. It was early in the morning, and no one was abroad on the streets. Reasoning that the terminal would be near the center of town, the Chancellor continued along the road. His hunch was soon proven correct when he saw a stagecoach turn into a side street three blocks ahead. The Chancellor felt a sense of unease as he arrived at the terminal office a minute later and saw the sign overhead, with two lines upon it. One line was in a strange script which the Chancellor had never seen before, while the other was written in German and said Alfeld Stage Lines.
Grandfather did say this was a strange new world. The Chancellor dismissed his doubts for the moment and opened the door and stepped inside the terminal. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight outside to the relative gloom within. There were a few benches, with perhaps a dozen travelers sitting and waiting. The coach which had just arrived was just visible behind the ticket counter. A half dozen people were waiting in line, and the Chancellor took a place at the rear of the line. Where is the chamberlain when I need him?
His reverie was broken by a woman's shout behind him. Stop, thief! A young man, presumably the thief complained of, was sprinting rapidly towards the line, with a purple satchel embossed in gold dangling loosely from his left hand. The Chancellor swung his cane, with the reflexes of an Indian mongoose, between the legs of the fleeing thief. The man fell heavily to the ground, dropping his ill-gotten booty. He gave the Chancellor a muttered imprecation and turned to flee to safety.
The thief's flight was stopped by a heavy hand as a guard grabbed the thief by the back of the collar. Not so fast, there! The Chancellor was startled at the uniform of the guard, which was a deep maroon with black collars and trim. The guard turned his attention from his captive to the Chancellor. Thank you for your help, sir.
It is my pleasure, guardsman.
The guard looked oddly at the Chancellor for a moment, and then turned as a large woman came up. I believe this is yours, madam, said the Chancellor, handing over the satchel to her. Are you all right?
The woman paused for breath. Thank you so much, kind sir. Please, who are you? She spoke in perfect German, though she had an odd accent which the Chancellor had not heard before and could not immediately place.
Perhaps I should not publicly identify myself as the Chancellor for the moment. I am Otto von Bismarck, at your service, madam.
The ticket clerk coughed once behind them. Excuse me, sir. Can I help you? He too had the same odd accent in his speech.
I would like a stagecoach ticket to Berlin, if you please.
Of course, sir. The clerk busied himself for a moment behind the counter. That will be 8 yuan, sir.
Herr von Bismarck, I too am traveling to Berlin. Please, allow me to pay your fare thither as well. Her tone was polite, with a hint of steel resolution behind it.
Madam, I do not wish to impose..
Oh, but I must! Such gallantry deserves a proper reward. The woman quickly handed some coins to the clerk, who nodded. There was a brief noise as the guardsman hauled the thief out of the terminal office, presumably towards the local jail.
MTB4884
Emperor
Chancellor's Dream part 2
The stagecoach was soon ready for the journey to Berlin. Frau von Schmidt dominated the conversation, cheerfully relating the tale of the Journey to the East to the Chancellor with very little prompting. Grandfather warned me that this was a different Germany than the one I know. Clearly he did not tell me the half of it. He was able to deflect the few questions she raised by observing that he had grown up in a different country and that his own father had never told him this story. The Chancellor in turn told her the story of the heroic Wilhelm Tell and the exploits of the ship named in his honor, much to her delight.
They were on first name terms by late afternoon as the stagecoach reached the outskirts of Berlin. The Chancellor could see the familiar contours of the Seelow Heights to the south, as well as smoke from the numerous workshops in the city. The stagecoach suddenly slowed and came to a stop, just short of the main eastern gates.
What is this? The coachman turned to his passengers. I am sorry, sir and madam. The security officers want us to stop before we enter the city. Hildegarde and the Chancellor disembarked at the security checkpoint. Two guards, with their maroon tunics and carrying rifles, were questioning the passengers of a stagecoach just ahead of them.
So what is going on? asked Hildegarde as they disembarked. Why all the security? A bell sounded, coming from a modest tower just to the right of the eastern gate.
I do not know, madam, replied the coachman. A whistle sounded, and the stagecoach just in front of them started up, while its passengers entered Berlin on foot. Two of the guards now approached Hildegarde and the Chancellor. The lead guard turned to the Chancellor with a polite but firm stance. Name?
Otto von Bismarck. I must tell the truth as much as possible.
Why are you coming to Berlin?
To join my wife in the house of my father. Surely the ruler of Saxony will live in whatever the local equivalent of the Imperial Palace might be.
Is that why you did not bring any luggage with you?
Of course, guardsman.
The guard gave the Chancellor an odd look, but merely replied, Thank you. The guard moved on to question Hildegarde. Two other guards were carefully examining the stagecoach itself, as if looking for some sort of contraband. It took a little time before they seemed satisfied, though they did not find anything suspicious. Pass them! A whistle was sounded, and the great iron gates were opened, allowing the incoming travelers to enter Berlin itself as they walked through.
Ranks of hansoms stood near the walls, clearly awaiting the convenience of incoming travelers. Should I simply take one to the Palace? The Chancellor's question was answered as Hildegarde walked up behind him, carrying her satchel. Otto, perhaps we could share a hansom. It is the least I can do.
A fine idea, Hildegarde. Might I have the honor of paying the fare and dropping you off first? Presumably this strange currency in my wallet will be sufficient.
That is most kind of you, Otto. They boarded the hansom, and the Chancellor opened the inside hatch, a questioning look on his face.
1470 Ehrlingstrasse, if you please.
The Chancellor repeated the address to the coachman, who touched the peak of his cap and gave a tug on the reins, starting the pair of horses off on their journey. The Chancellor looked carefully out of the window. The buildings and shops had slight differences in trim and roof style, but looked quite similar to his own city. The people, on the other hand, did not. Most had the familiar features of the citizens of the Empire. A sizable minority had quite different features, which reminded the Chancellor of the Chinese Consul, whom he had met exactly once while on a state visit to Samarkhand.
The most urgent problem, however, was the direction the hansom was traveling. Ehrlingstrasse is in the western part of the city. Why are we headed north instead? A moment, Hildegarde. I thought Ehrlingstrasse was that way.
Hildegarde looked out the window. You are right, Otto. She opened the hatch to speak to the coachman. You are going the wrong way!
The coachman looked nervously over his left shoulder. A second man, armed with a older style musket and wearing a maroon armband, glared at Otto and Hildegarde. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. There will be a slight detour and a change of destination. She quickly closed the hatch. Otto, what are we going to do?
The Chancellor leaned over and whispered, We are going to jump out at the first opportunity and report these villains to the proper authorities. The Chancellor unlatched the door, holding it closed with his right hand.
We can't! We will be killed!
You would prefer to be a prisoner of these villains? Who knows what they intend to do to us?
A few moments later, the hansom slowed as it made a left turn. This is our chance! Go! The Chancellor released the door and leaped out of the hansom, dragging Hildegarde after him. He bit the cobblestone pavement hard, and then a ninety kilo lady landed on top of him. The hansom driver shouted something, and then gave his horse a quick flick of his whip as the hansom disappeared into the city traffic.
The Chancellor quickly rose to his feet and helped Hildegarde up. He realized that three men were running towards them, with serious expressions and carrying rifles. All three were wearing the same maroon armbands as their kidnapper. This is not good.
The stagecoach was soon ready for the journey to Berlin. Frau von Schmidt dominated the conversation, cheerfully relating the tale of the Journey to the East to the Chancellor with very little prompting. Grandfather warned me that this was a different Germany than the one I know. Clearly he did not tell me the half of it. He was able to deflect the few questions she raised by observing that he had grown up in a different country and that his own father had never told him this story. The Chancellor in turn told her the story of the heroic Wilhelm Tell and the exploits of the ship named in his honor, much to her delight.
They were on first name terms by late afternoon as the stagecoach reached the outskirts of Berlin. The Chancellor could see the familiar contours of the Seelow Heights to the south, as well as smoke from the numerous workshops in the city. The stagecoach suddenly slowed and came to a stop, just short of the main eastern gates.
What is this? The coachman turned to his passengers. I am sorry, sir and madam. The security officers want us to stop before we enter the city. Hildegarde and the Chancellor disembarked at the security checkpoint. Two guards, with their maroon tunics and carrying rifles, were questioning the passengers of a stagecoach just ahead of them.
So what is going on? asked Hildegarde as they disembarked. Why all the security? A bell sounded, coming from a modest tower just to the right of the eastern gate.
I do not know, madam, replied the coachman. A whistle sounded, and the stagecoach just in front of them started up, while its passengers entered Berlin on foot. Two of the guards now approached Hildegarde and the Chancellor. The lead guard turned to the Chancellor with a polite but firm stance. Name?
Otto von Bismarck. I must tell the truth as much as possible.
Why are you coming to Berlin?
To join my wife in the house of my father. Surely the ruler of Saxony will live in whatever the local equivalent of the Imperial Palace might be.
Is that why you did not bring any luggage with you?
Of course, guardsman.
The guard gave the Chancellor an odd look, but merely replied, Thank you. The guard moved on to question Hildegarde. Two other guards were carefully examining the stagecoach itself, as if looking for some sort of contraband. It took a little time before they seemed satisfied, though they did not find anything suspicious. Pass them! A whistle was sounded, and the great iron gates were opened, allowing the incoming travelers to enter Berlin itself as they walked through.
Ranks of hansoms stood near the walls, clearly awaiting the convenience of incoming travelers. Should I simply take one to the Palace? The Chancellor's question was answered as Hildegarde walked up behind him, carrying her satchel. Otto, perhaps we could share a hansom. It is the least I can do.
A fine idea, Hildegarde. Might I have the honor of paying the fare and dropping you off first? Presumably this strange currency in my wallet will be sufficient.
That is most kind of you, Otto. They boarded the hansom, and the Chancellor opened the inside hatch, a questioning look on his face.
1470 Ehrlingstrasse, if you please.
The Chancellor repeated the address to the coachman, who touched the peak of his cap and gave a tug on the reins, starting the pair of horses off on their journey. The Chancellor looked carefully out of the window. The buildings and shops had slight differences in trim and roof style, but looked quite similar to his own city. The people, on the other hand, did not. Most had the familiar features of the citizens of the Empire. A sizable minority had quite different features, which reminded the Chancellor of the Chinese Consul, whom he had met exactly once while on a state visit to Samarkhand.
The most urgent problem, however, was the direction the hansom was traveling. Ehrlingstrasse is in the western part of the city. Why are we headed north instead? A moment, Hildegarde. I thought Ehrlingstrasse was that way.
Hildegarde looked out the window. You are right, Otto. She opened the hatch to speak to the coachman. You are going the wrong way!
The coachman looked nervously over his left shoulder. A second man, armed with a older style musket and wearing a maroon armband, glared at Otto and Hildegarde. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. There will be a slight detour and a change of destination. She quickly closed the hatch. Otto, what are we going to do?
The Chancellor leaned over and whispered, We are going to jump out at the first opportunity and report these villains to the proper authorities. The Chancellor unlatched the door, holding it closed with his right hand.
We can't! We will be killed!
You would prefer to be a prisoner of these villains? Who knows what they intend to do to us?
A few moments later, the hansom slowed as it made a left turn. This is our chance! Go! The Chancellor released the door and leaped out of the hansom, dragging Hildegarde after him. He bit the cobblestone pavement hard, and then a ninety kilo lady landed on top of him. The hansom driver shouted something, and then gave his horse a quick flick of his whip as the hansom disappeared into the city traffic.
The Chancellor quickly rose to his feet and helped Hildegarde up. He realized that three men were running towards them, with serious expressions and carrying rifles. All three were wearing the same maroon armbands as their kidnapper. This is not good.
MTB4884
Emperor
Chancellor's Dream part 3
The lead gunman gestured with his rifle and said, You will both follow me, please. The Chancellor, being armed only with a cane, glowered at his adversary. They were quickly herded into a second carriage, with two armed men watching them. Please do not try anything foolish. You will not be harmed if you cooperate.
Soon the carriage came to a bumpy stop. The coachman said something unintelligible,and there was a brief rumbling sound outside, as if a heavy door was being lifted. The carriage moved forward a short distance and then stopped abruptly. The door, if you please, said one of the kidnappers, gesturing with his rifle.
The Chancellor carefully opened the door with his right hand and stepped out, holding the door open as his mind raced for a way out. The carriage with its team of horses was inside some sort of warehouse, with a large canvas covering the outer door. Stacks of boxes and crates were piled about the room. Hildegarde slowly stirred, still carrying her satchel. She was halfway out of the carriage when the Chancellor made his move.
He yanked on Hildegarde's left arm, tumbling her to the ground with a surprised yelp. At the same time he slammed the carriage door closed with all his strength, catching the wrist of one of their kidnappers between the door and the carriage frame. The injured man shrieked in agony, dropping his rifle with a clatter to the floor. As the Chancellor dove for the fallen rifle, a fist-sized hole appeared in the carriage door. The horses shied at the gunshot and raced away in absolute panic through the canvas door, with the two kidnappers still inside.
Hold it! shouted a hoarse voice just behind him. I forgot about the coachman! Turn around very slowly, and no tricks! The Chancellor looked sadly at the rifle, a few inches beyond his reach, and then carefully turned around to face the angry coachman, pistol in hand. The coachman's face was a perfect vision of anger and fury as he looked towards Hildegarde. Hand me that satchel, lady, or you and your friend here will die!
Hildegarde stood up on tottering legs, and hesitantly moved the satchel towards the waiting coachmen. She dropped it just out of the coachman's reach. You @#! The coachmen bent over to take the satchel as he shifted the pistol away from the Chancellor for a brief instant. This may be my only chance!
Again the Chancellor literally leaped into action as he seized the coachman's right wrist in an iron grip. A great boom sounded as the pistol fired harmlessly into the ceiling, while the two men struggled. The coachman jabbed the Chancellor with his elbow, nearly winding him as both men fell to the floor. The pistol came loose with a sudden jerk as the coachman landed a vicious punch in response, doubling the Chancellor over. Now you die, you...
The threat ended with a sudden dull thud as Hildegarde swung the discarded rifle stock first into the back of the coachman's head. The Chancellor got up rather painfully as Hildegarde retrieved her satchel. Are you all right, Otto?
Thank you very much, Hildegarde, he replied. I have been better. We should get out of here at once. She was still staring at the prostrate form of the coachman. Is he..did I...
He will have a bad headache when he wakes up, but he will live. The Chancellor gently took the rifle from Hildegarde's unresisting hands. We must go.
A shout from just outside the damaged canvas door quickly changed his mind. They are coming back! Hide! They quickly dived behind two nearby crates, anxiously watching for the return of their captors. Both of them could hear the sounds of battle just outside the warehouse for a few more seconds. The ominous silence which followed was broken when a woman stepped into the warehouse. Hildegarde stood up as she recognized the newcomer. Etta?
So much for concealment now. The Chancellor stood up as well. Who are you, madam?
Please, sir, I must get you and Hildegarde to safety. The Chancellor looked over to Hildegarde, who nodded, and all three walked out to a waiting carriage. Once inside, the woman produced three blindfolds. We must wear these, as we are to see Zhang Han. The Chancellor was surprised again when their unknown hostess herself put on a blindfold. Is this some sort of test of trustworthiness?
Very well, madam. Hildegarde and the Chancellor resignedly put on their blindfolds. The carriage made several turns over the next few minutes, and then came to a gentle stop. They could hear what sounded like a large door closing as they heard a commanding voice from outside the carriage.
Good evening, spoke a commanding voice. Please remove your blindfolds. I trust you are none the worse for your experiences.
Karl? The Chancellor was surprised yet again as he removed his blindfold and saw the man who had spoken. His face and voice bore an uncanny resemblance to Karl von Clauswitz, the longtime Military Minister. Who are you, sir?
Zhang Han, my dear fellow, at your service.
What are you going to do with us now? asked Hildegarde.
No harm will come to you, madam. How, may I ask, did you get mixed up in all this?
Otto prevented a thief from robbing me, and risked his own life to save mine, she replied defiantly.
Zhang Han considered for a moment, and then turned to the Chancellor, who stiffened, suspecting yet another trick. You are Otto von Bismarck, I believe. Please accept my word that no harm will come to either of you. What brings you here to Berlin?
You would not believe me if I told you the literal truth.
The other man scowled. Try me.
The Chancellor decided to trust his instincts. I was told by my grandfather in a dream to give this coin, producing an ordinary looking 50 pfennig piece, to the ruler of Saxony.
May I see that? Zhang Han carefully examined the coin. Where did you get this?
As I told you, my grandfather gave it to me to give to the ruler of Saxony.
I see. Suddenly two gunshots rang out at close range. The Chancellor felt something strike him in the chest. Hildegarde leaped to his aid. Otto! OTTO!
Forgive me, Grandfather, for I have failed you. The sight and sounds of Hildegarde faded, to be replaced by the same cloudy realm he had visited earlier. "Actually, you did not fail me, grandson," spoke the calm voice of Friedrich von Bismarck.
"Grandfather, I failed in my mission..."
"No, my grandson. I cannot explain fully, for you must return home to your own world now." A new sound filled the Chancellor's ears as his grandfather disappeared once again into the mists.
Otto! Otto! Wake up! He opened his eyes to find his wife Eva shaking him awake. What happened? Two Imperial Guardsmen, in their traditional blue tunics with white trim, rushed in, pistols at the ready. The Chancellor realized that he was back in his bedroom in the Imperial Palace.
You must have had a dream, Otto.
Indeed. The two guardsmen holstered their pistols as the Chancellor's nod. It was just a dream, men. Please return to your posts. Both guardsmen saluted and left at once.
The Chancellor realized that there was something in his nightgown pocket. He pulled it out, recognizing it as a sample of the strange currency from the world of his dream, complete with mysterious inscriptions.
Where did you get that, Otto?
Eva, as strange as this sounds, I think Grandfather Friedrich gave it to me.
The lead gunman gestured with his rifle and said, You will both follow me, please. The Chancellor, being armed only with a cane, glowered at his adversary. They were quickly herded into a second carriage, with two armed men watching them. Please do not try anything foolish. You will not be harmed if you cooperate.
Soon the carriage came to a bumpy stop. The coachman said something unintelligible,and there was a brief rumbling sound outside, as if a heavy door was being lifted. The carriage moved forward a short distance and then stopped abruptly. The door, if you please, said one of the kidnappers, gesturing with his rifle.
The Chancellor carefully opened the door with his right hand and stepped out, holding the door open as his mind raced for a way out. The carriage with its team of horses was inside some sort of warehouse, with a large canvas covering the outer door. Stacks of boxes and crates were piled about the room. Hildegarde slowly stirred, still carrying her satchel. She was halfway out of the carriage when the Chancellor made his move.
He yanked on Hildegarde's left arm, tumbling her to the ground with a surprised yelp. At the same time he slammed the carriage door closed with all his strength, catching the wrist of one of their kidnappers between the door and the carriage frame. The injured man shrieked in agony, dropping his rifle with a clatter to the floor. As the Chancellor dove for the fallen rifle, a fist-sized hole appeared in the carriage door. The horses shied at the gunshot and raced away in absolute panic through the canvas door, with the two kidnappers still inside.
Hold it! shouted a hoarse voice just behind him. I forgot about the coachman! Turn around very slowly, and no tricks! The Chancellor looked sadly at the rifle, a few inches beyond his reach, and then carefully turned around to face the angry coachman, pistol in hand. The coachman's face was a perfect vision of anger and fury as he looked towards Hildegarde. Hand me that satchel, lady, or you and your friend here will die!
Hildegarde stood up on tottering legs, and hesitantly moved the satchel towards the waiting coachmen. She dropped it just out of the coachman's reach. You @#! The coachmen bent over to take the satchel as he shifted the pistol away from the Chancellor for a brief instant. This may be my only chance!
Again the Chancellor literally leaped into action as he seized the coachman's right wrist in an iron grip. A great boom sounded as the pistol fired harmlessly into the ceiling, while the two men struggled. The coachman jabbed the Chancellor with his elbow, nearly winding him as both men fell to the floor. The pistol came loose with a sudden jerk as the coachman landed a vicious punch in response, doubling the Chancellor over. Now you die, you...
The threat ended with a sudden dull thud as Hildegarde swung the discarded rifle stock first into the back of the coachman's head. The Chancellor got up rather painfully as Hildegarde retrieved her satchel. Are you all right, Otto?
Thank you very much, Hildegarde, he replied. I have been better. We should get out of here at once. She was still staring at the prostrate form of the coachman. Is he..did I...
He will have a bad headache when he wakes up, but he will live. The Chancellor gently took the rifle from Hildegarde's unresisting hands. We must go.
A shout from just outside the damaged canvas door quickly changed his mind. They are coming back! Hide! They quickly dived behind two nearby crates, anxiously watching for the return of their captors. Both of them could hear the sounds of battle just outside the warehouse for a few more seconds. The ominous silence which followed was broken when a woman stepped into the warehouse. Hildegarde stood up as she recognized the newcomer. Etta?
So much for concealment now. The Chancellor stood up as well. Who are you, madam?
Please, sir, I must get you and Hildegarde to safety. The Chancellor looked over to Hildegarde, who nodded, and all three walked out to a waiting carriage. Once inside, the woman produced three blindfolds. We must wear these, as we are to see Zhang Han. The Chancellor was surprised again when their unknown hostess herself put on a blindfold. Is this some sort of test of trustworthiness?
Very well, madam. Hildegarde and the Chancellor resignedly put on their blindfolds. The carriage made several turns over the next few minutes, and then came to a gentle stop. They could hear what sounded like a large door closing as they heard a commanding voice from outside the carriage.
Good evening, spoke a commanding voice. Please remove your blindfolds. I trust you are none the worse for your experiences.
Karl? The Chancellor was surprised yet again as he removed his blindfold and saw the man who had spoken. His face and voice bore an uncanny resemblance to Karl von Clauswitz, the longtime Military Minister. Who are you, sir?
Zhang Han, my dear fellow, at your service.
What are you going to do with us now? asked Hildegarde.
No harm will come to you, madam. How, may I ask, did you get mixed up in all this?
Otto prevented a thief from robbing me, and risked his own life to save mine, she replied defiantly.
Zhang Han considered for a moment, and then turned to the Chancellor, who stiffened, suspecting yet another trick. You are Otto von Bismarck, I believe. Please accept my word that no harm will come to either of you. What brings you here to Berlin?
You would not believe me if I told you the literal truth.
The other man scowled. Try me.
The Chancellor decided to trust his instincts. I was told by my grandfather in a dream to give this coin, producing an ordinary looking 50 pfennig piece, to the ruler of Saxony.
May I see that? Zhang Han carefully examined the coin. Where did you get this?
As I told you, my grandfather gave it to me to give to the ruler of Saxony.
I see. Suddenly two gunshots rang out at close range. The Chancellor felt something strike him in the chest. Hildegarde leaped to his aid. Otto! OTTO!
Forgive me, Grandfather, for I have failed you. The sight and sounds of Hildegarde faded, to be replaced by the same cloudy realm he had visited earlier. "Actually, you did not fail me, grandson," spoke the calm voice of Friedrich von Bismarck.
"Grandfather, I failed in my mission..."
"No, my grandson. I cannot explain fully, for you must return home to your own world now." A new sound filled the Chancellor's ears as his grandfather disappeared once again into the mists.
Otto! Otto! Wake up! He opened his eyes to find his wife Eva shaking him awake. What happened? Two Imperial Guardsmen, in their traditional blue tunics with white trim, rushed in, pistols at the ready. The Chancellor realized that he was back in his bedroom in the Imperial Palace.
You must have had a dream, Otto.
Indeed. The two guardsmen holstered their pistols as the Chancellor's nod. It was just a dream, men. Please return to your posts. Both guardsmen saluted and left at once.
The Chancellor realized that there was something in his nightgown pocket. He pulled it out, recognizing it as a sample of the strange currency from the world of his dream, complete with mysterious inscriptions.
Where did you get that, Otto?
Eva, as strange as this sounds, I think Grandfather Friedrich gave it to me.
tR1cKy
taking over the world
still following, and still enjoying 
also, gg for the crossover
btw, i have in mind a brief crossover of mine, in style with my current story (in other words, totally demented
)
would you like to have it posted here?
also, gg for the crossover
btw, i have in mind a brief crossover of mine, in style with my current story (in other words, totally demented
)would you like to have it posted here?
Tomorrow's Dawn
Heroes Never Die
After EVO 2012 is done (after today), feel free to send me a PM with a pitch.
Tomorrow's Dawn
Heroes Never Die
Modern day Wudang of mixed Yamato-Malinese descent.
The Feizhou Hapas
The Wudang was originally a scholastic sect of Nao Caste researchers sent over by the reigning Emperor of the period, Xia Pei,
to help enrich the education system in Nubia, per request from his Nubian Empress, Yu Shen Mi.
When they first arrived in Feizhou (Africa), they intermarried with the local women, mostly selected from the servant classes and established families.
It was not long after that a rival sect hailing from northern China arrived and settled themselves in Chinese Mali.
They were known as the Shaolin. From the start, the Wudang & the Shaolin possessed intense animosity with one another.
For centuries, the Shaolin held the advantage of prestige over their Wudang rivals.
Their universities enrolled many more students than the Wudang could, attracting many well-to-do Han Chinese,
Hamitic Feizhouren (sub-Saharan Africans), Feizhou Hapa, Saxons & Arabs, and growing wealthy from the revenue that the high enrollment rates provided.
The Wudang gained the upper hand though around the end of the Sino-Aryan War.
The Wudang discredited the Shaolin-published model of physics, of which the incorrect equations had been stumping engineering development in Chinese Africa for well over a century.
Developing and plugging in the correct equations into the architects' plans, the Wudang's prestige benefitted greatly and their rivals' reputations soon plummeted into obscurity.
Disgraced, the Shaolin soon faded away into obscurity and the ubiquity of the Wudang soon entered the Mandarin vernacular as slang for a mixed-race individual of East Asian & African descent.
Li Chen Ke, Malinese Provinical Treasurer
During the sweeping conquests of the Semitic lands, sectarian violence from extremist Hamitic groups targeted Han Chinese & secular Hamitic Feizhouren, but primarily against Feizhou Hapas.
Sectarian violence ceased when threats from Zululand posed a grave danger to the welfare of all Imperial subjects in Mali & Nubia; Hamitic insurgency has never peaked since then,
with the exception of the Timbuktu DMHP Gas Attacks, which is suspected to have been Zulu-influenced.
Extended Socio-Economic Information and Contributions to Chinese Civilization
The first generation of Wudang literally came into being overnight.
Records indicate that this was specifically because a large segment of their mothers were wet nurses for Nubian aristocrats alongside their regular maid duties.
Coupled with the evidence that infant mortality rates in the period were high,
it led to a large extended family structure and a frequency of pregnancy
(avg. Five offspring in eight years) in the original servant bride generation that would be terrifying by today's standards.
A similar phenomena has been observed in the establishment of the Aozhou Hapas as well,
which predates the establishment of Feizhou Hapas, although it differed in many respects.
Wudang families in ancient times revolved around the patriarchs, or the headmasters and professors of the universities.
They lived communal style and placed high value on temperance & education.
With the advent of modern medicine though, this structure began to fall apart.
In the modern day, Wudang family units tend to gravitate towards smaller unit models although strong family values bind clans into a local nexus.
Yu Yuan, acclaimed actor
Wudang culture has its' roots in the Chinese scholastic tradition and in common Nubian and Malinese culture.
Nubian-oriented Wudang culture has traditionally appealed to the sensibilities of the wealthy elite.
Malinese-oriented Wudang culture however, has achieved success in mainstream popular culture in recent years.
Wudang contributions to Chinese civilization are varied, mostly in the field of scientific innovation.
The theory and technical applications of modern biology originated in the halls of Wudang academies.
The food scientist/singer-songwriter KELIS (see photo below) built upon these theories,
and is also credited with successfully bringing dairy products into the Chinese mainstream
and helping to shake off the traditional stigma associated with consuming dairy products.
KELIS; her milkshake popularized dairy consumption in China and
fueled the development of the "yard", a type of eatery that specializes in dairy-based products.
Feizhou Hapas have an overwhelmingly disproportionate Caste distribution.
Many of them are raised with a value system that places a high emphasis on education,
the likely responsible factor for the trends in Wudang occupational makeup.
The most common professions taken by Feizhou Hapas are: scientists, teachers, doctors, & engineers, making up a significant portion of the 68% Nao Caste statistic.
25% enter the border guard against Zulu hostility as part of the Li Caste and a mere 7% enter entertainment as part of the Xin Caste.
Spoiler :
hoplitejoe
Top fun-poster
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2010
- Messages
- 5,470
Tomorrow's Dawn
Heroes Never Die
Now that that's over, I am preparing a small collection of disjointed stories dealing with monsters other than the Jewish vampires of the Elohim & the Muslim werewolves of the Garou.
Three of them have basis in folklore and two are a completely original monsters made just for this story.
We are going back to pre-gunpowder times and some old characters may appear or become mentioned again.
When that's done, I'll get to the story you all want to read.
The inevitable clash between the Chinese Empire and Judeo-Babylon.
Three of them have basis in folklore and two are a completely original monsters made just for this story.
We are going back to pre-gunpowder times and some old characters may appear or become mentioned again.
When that's done, I'll get to the story you all want to read.
The inevitable clash between the Chinese Empire and Judeo-Babylon.
Similar threads
- Locked
