Saga of the English

Welcome to the In Character Story thread to the Saga of the English. We will be posting our story following the English civilization as they progress through time. Each of us will be telling only a small part, but collectively we hope to bring you something truly unique. Without further ado, please read on and enjoy!

Chapter 1

Chapter 1​

The sun finally started to set as the Midsummer Festival started to come to a close. Fires had even already began to pop up among the hills, and soft singing and merriment rose from all sides. At the largest of these fires, listeners gathered around Ælfwine the Storyteller as he began to weave his tale:

“The story of our people is a long one, but we can only know which path to take once we know where we have been. The history of our people begins in the ancient beginnings of nomadic life. We were a transient people, and for thousands of years we made our existence off the fruit of the land. Staying in each place only long enough to extract life from the land. Finally, under the Great King Ælfred our fathers settled in a land that would come to be known as England. Chosen for its place at the mouth of the river, nestled on one side by water and the other by hills, London quickly grew to a city. With the development of farming the population boomed, and the people prospered. Our early history was punctuated by exploration; first to the east, then the south. Game was abundant. All around there were cows, and sheep, and deer, and food was plentiful.

It was in these circumstances that our people began to make their legacy. Early on we developed a strong sense of tradition under Alfred. He even established the tradition of Midsummer Festivities, that we recognize to this very day. But just as us, our ancestors were not alone in this world. It wasn’t long before we met these people. There were people of all different kinds. Some were barbaric, bent on our destruction and organized into small war camps. Others were organized into larger settlements similar to ours, but were much more docile, even presenting our ancestors gifts in gold upon their arrival. Still others were more like us. Though they weren’t our immediate enemies, they were entirely different beasts, pursuing much the same goals as us. These seemed much more numerous as well; first it was the Inca, then the Chinese, the Indians, the Americans. It is said Alfred was very cautious of these outsiders, refusing to establish any diplomatic ties at all.

Ælfred’s sudden death came as a shock to the kingdom. Victim of a failed hunting trip, Alfred had failed to produce any heirs. The ensuing power struggle would make the position of monarch change hands at a steady rate for the next hundred years. Following Alfred’s death there was a sudden wave of barbarian attacks on our lands. From the south and east small barbarian bands came and challenged our warriors. Many fell before them, and the people rejoiced in their many victories. It was during one of these barbarian raids that then King Edward captured and organized the first workforce of slaves. Though at the time it was met with some resistance due to the great effort needed to capture, organize, and guard the slaves, this revolutionary labor system would change our people forever. Now on a large scale kings could and would tame the land, bringing us unimaginable bounties of food, production, and commerce. With this new unit of workers, there was a wave of innovation. Soon we developed techniques for taming and trapping animals, as well as extracting ores and stone from the ground.

King Eadweard’s success brought an end to the turbulent times of infighting with the advent of a new dynasty that came to be known as the House of Cerdic. Under this new dynasty much would change in the land of England: using our great stores of gold and goods, the Cerdics funded the construction of a Shrine to our great ancestors; to alleviate overpopulation in the capital they organized the formation of a settler party that would later found York; taking advantage of the abundance of pearl bearing oysters in the Bay of London, they even developed new ways of mass fishing using boats. The Cerdic Dynasty would rule England all the way up until modern times.

And that is the story of our people. It is still short as we are still growing. Now it is your turn. Go out and make history. Go out and build a civilization that can stand the test of time!

Nyle Rodrickson and York, Part 1
As Nyle stepped off the barge, he swore that his eyes failed him. To the west, across the Grante River, a muddy field dotted with cow pastures sprawled. But to the east was where his eyes wandered. The King explained to him that he would be heroically taming the vast forests and savage barbarians of the Oakwild, and rising to prominence as the father of York. York however, already existed, and it was miserable. It seemed like a bizarre cross between the civilized grandeur of London, and the filth of the countryside. The immigrants in his barge were mostly Londoners, unused to having a savage wild to the north and east, rather they preferred a calm countryside like London.
"Well, here we are," Elrod said in his raspy Wildfolk drawl. "It's not much, but I grew up here." I stood there dumbfounded by the town he seemed so proud of, but it was so little. In the end I believed that all denizens of York had little, and they had to make the most out of what they had. "C'mon, I'll show ya' to yer' house." We then left the dock and begun trekking to my house at the center of town. This town was so different from the civilized grandeur of London and the Grand Countryside. The houses were one story huts, not unlike those that the barbarians lived in. I heard a town crier warn the populace about the barbarians deep in the Oakwild, and the enroaching Chinese to the south. The only thing to distinguish the outskirts from the town center were the buildings, being closer together. I then likened the town to a barbarian encampment. This town was not far from one, after all, the populace was descended from barbarians, and in their heart was the wild, the frontier, the forests, the hunt. Some were eyeing me with suspicion, for I was a Londoner, and many had never been west of the Pastureland, and some believed that all Londeners were fat slobs, unused to any kind of nature, like some Londoners beieved that Yorkers were all stupid barbarians. As we neared the town square, I saw a warrior desperately trying to recruit a militia, but most denizens were too busy working the pastures that were their living.
"Yer house is here," Elrod told me. I looked up. A manor, built in the style of London like I requested awaited me. A wood fence fenced it in, unlike London's stone fences. I then entered. A sad field of cabbages and leeks was inside, not like London's beautiful gardens...Oh London, just several months ago was I inside your walls. Now all that awaits me is a crude mockery of your house. I opened the door and sat on the plain wood chair, everything was wood out here. I slumped into my chair and began sobbing. Not a huge loud cry, but little sobs, like little bits of London leaving me. Perhaps I would become one of the Wildfolk that inhabit this disgusting Hillbillyvilley. I would have to make the most of what I had. I must remember what the seer told me.
"You are destined for greatness, but you shall endure many hardships. If you endure them, you shall be counted amongst the great of Aengland.." I must keep my head up, to make this town into a new London, no, greater than London, for I am Nyle, son of Rodrick who once commanded of the Wardens. I SHALL PREVAIL!

The Highfolk of London were distraught. The Old King of Cerdic descent was well, old and more importantly dying. His heir, Prince Ethelred, was unfortunately unready for the royal throne. He spent his time in the Lower City in shady taverns rolling dice with pretty ladies on his lap. The King was too sickly to realize the severity of the situation of his beloved kingdom. The last decision he ever made was to send Nyle Rodrickson to settle the city of York. Luckily that decision had been a good one and a king is usually remembered for the last thing he did so the Old King Ninian would go down in history as a good. Still, something had to be done about the heir. The King had had only the one son and a daughter whose infantile son showed promise, but alas was an infant.

“Why not appoint the young Prince Elgar? You could find a sensible lad to act as the Prince Regent until he comes of age?” the Royal Advisor, Audric Helty suggested. The king mumbled something of a response. It was unintelligible, but it was enough for Helty. There was enough pressure on him from the Council to find another heir that he had no choice but to interpret the king’s fevered cries as agreement. “Good, your Majesty. I will speak with the Council so they can appoint a proper Prince Regent for the young Prince.”

And so it was done. Papers were shuffled around to name the young Prince as the heir and the Council of London named Helty as the Prince Regent, must to his genuine surprise. The Old King somehow managed to scribble something nonsensical as a signature right before his dwindling health finally gave way. The city grieved for two weeks before the coronation of Prince Elgar began. There were festivities and a great gala was held the Grand Countryside. The young prince ascended the throne at the young age of three and Audric Helty was anointed the Prince Regent.

“Sir Audric, you are here to be appointed the Prince Regent until his Majesty, the King Elgar reaches the appropriate age of 18,” the most senior of the Councilmen said gravely. “Do you hereby swear to always choose and act in the best interest of the State?”

“Yes.”

“Do you hereby swear to commit no nepotism or dispose of his Majesty to further your own gains?”

“Yes.”

“Do you hereby swear to give up your position when his Majesty reaches the age of 18 without resent or a raised sword?”

“Yes.”

“Then I, a representative for the Council of London and Ængland, swear you in as Prince Regent and acting monarch of Ængland,” the Councilman declared. The Londoners in attendance cheered uproariously and Helty bowed and kissed the cold stone beneath the Councilman’s feet before turning to the multitude.

“I thank you for this honor. I will serve you selflessly as the great King Ninian served you prior,” he shouted. Much to his astonishment, the applause somehow grew louded and they were soon chanting the name of the newly inaugurated King. Helty turned back to the Council. He saw the Queen Dowager who was beaming and then the Thane of Greater London, Ethelred. Helty could almost feel the daggers in the Thane’s eyes running down his throat in sweet revenge. Security and stability of the young king’s reign and perhaps disposing of the previous successor would be a priority.

The commission to make a map of the surrounding country side of York had consumed Mauren Fletching. Pastureland and the river had been easy as they were territories that Nyle Rodrickson had secured as English territories but Mauren had had to venture beyond to make a good study of the hills beyond the influence of York and even ventured to the coast. Wistfully, he dreamt of staying by the sea but he had to return. He spent the majority of his time surveying the hills north of York as they were steep and he wanted his map to be accurate. He had studied earlier maps to see how older mapmakers had gone about completing the same task before him. None would be as detailed as his.

Once the surveying was done, he returned to his temporary residence in York. He had left his family behind in London to complete this task. It had been difficult to leave them and set out into wilderness (he was hoping that Sir Audric Helty, the Prince Regent, would commission a rode to be made between the two towns but it was unlikely as roads were expensive and the workers were busy building pastures and quarries and farms) alone.

With ink-stained fingers and enormous bags under his eyes from many sleepless nights, slaving away to complete the commission on time, he presented his map to his patron.

The maps (be warned, they're large images)


OOC

"Chief, the English mudmen are amassing at Ferusnygh!
"Well don't sit in here and wallow, slay those swines!" Yyrik, chieftain of the Barbari people was irritable, for he was the chieftain, and frankly, he did not enjoy it. Going on 28 years, Yyrik was growing old for a Barbari, and most elder Barbari were expected to be warpriests, sages, or chieftains. By slaying the last chieftain in a duel: Genahar the Old, and therefore becoming chief, Yyrik Hard-Head was growing tired of the constant bickering and complaining of being in a position of power. Over the last few years, a kernel of something lay hidden in his brain. Over the past few months, being chief had activated it, and the kernel sprouted, until he could bear it no longer. He wanted to explore and to see the world.
Yyrik did not know what came over him that one night. It was when the English and the Barbari engaged each other in the Ferusnygh. Another force, this one of a smaller tribe than the English, but still much larger than the Barbari. They lay to the northeast. Between them was open grassland. Yyrik decided to make a run for it. Barbarinygh was getting old and stale. Soon, they would be like the other tribes, settling down, gobbling up land, destroying the wild. Yyrik knew what he wanted to do. England was to the north, he needed to learn the ways of the English, return to Barbarinygh, and teach the Barbarifylr the ways of the mudman. Then he would conquer the English, the Chinese, and all other tribes. He would be the greatest Barbari...no...the greatest man in history. He began running north.

Rukil gazed out over the plains, taking some time to absorb the beauties of nature. He had always had a love for nature, and the stop of The Wardens in the plains south of Oakwild had given him a little bit of time to look.

He had grown up in Oakwild, being one of the "Wildfolk", as Londoners called them. His parents had both died at an early age, so he had to learn how to take care of himself and how to live in the Oakwild. Naturally, he became a hunter, living off the game of the Oakwild. Over time, he had become a very proficient archer, and acquired a taste for adventure.

He eventually moved to the outskirts of the young city of York, like many other of the Wildfolk had done. During the short time he lived there, he continued to practice his trade of hunting in the Oakwild. Although not many of York's people would join the army, Rukil's love for adventure caused him to join The Wardens when a recruiter came to York, and he amazed them with his archery skills.

And now, here he was, with The Wardens south of Oakwild. The English commander had informed them that Governor Nyle Rodrickson wanted the Oakwild cleansed of barbarians, and Rukil knew they had an encampment through the forests of the Oakwild to the east. He felt that soon his archery skills would be put to the test.

Godwine awoke about an hour before the sun came up every morning. This morning he woke up two hours earlier than the sun. Today was the day he would take his post as town crier. Around sun up he would begin delivering the days events to the people of London. Pacing back and forth, he reviewed his stories with his assistant. A farmer from the south, a recruiter from the watch, a servant from the palace, these were his connections. Unpredictable and forever changing, these were what he based his whole existence off of. In times of prosperity, when news was good, he loved these people, just as the people loved him. In bad times, these people were his foes, to be inspected and critiqued for truth. Nevertheless he must report the news. It was the duty of his office, and his contribution to society.

After hours of restless pacing, the sun finally peeked up over the horizon of the great ocean, and he began. At first only the few going out to their fields, or leaving the streets after a night of work would hear him, but as the day wore on more and more would be coming out to hear of what he said. Loudly, with an unsteady voice he began:

“Death of the King Cerdic! Sir Audric Helty appointed regent until Elgar comes of age. Though little has come from the palace in the form of a statement, it seems Prince Ethelred has been passed over as heir to the throne. Sources say that the king, always having been ashamed of his first son’s conduct, designated Elgar as his heir with his dying breath. The council then decided themselves to appoint Sir Helty. Quickly following his appointment he instituted changes of his own. Firstly, he ordered recruitment for another warrior be halted, and that recruitment for a second scout should begin. Higher-ups in the military were said to disapprove of the decision as it is widely known England’s army is far weaker than that of its neighbors. Secondly, he redirected the royal researches to develop new forms of communication, in the hopes of finding a way to preserve our history and culture in a way far more concrete than the oral storytellers we have today. Public response to these changes aren’t good. The Highfolk of London are said to be distraught over the death of the late king, though their opinions of Sir Helty are still foggy. The situation created by naming Elgar the heir over Ethelred is sure to cause some controversy among the royal family and the aristocracy in general.

“News from the south! The royal guard has engaged and defeated a barbarian brigade of archers to the south. Though they have been routed in a crushing defeat, it was not before inflicting casualties. The word is that the unit is still in shape to defend itself, however they do not have the manpower to assault the barbarian encampment just across the river Thames. High upon a hill, this encampment is heavily defended by warriors not unlike our own. Messengers that regularly relay conditions from the battlefield to the palace here in London have confirmed that unless reinforced, the guard will be unable to overtake the encampment, and will likely need to retreat back to English territory where they can regroup. In addition, they speculate that a single warrior unit may not be enough to attack such a heavily fortified position. A farmer, Leofwine, from the southernmost cattle farms, comments: “Ifin them barbs’ come up ere, we’ll be in a mighty spot, we will.” While there is no indication the barbarians are planning to make an attempt on the cattle farms of south-London, those farms are the most abundant in all England, and the loss of those could result in food shortages here in the city. No statement has been issued by the king or military leadership, however it is rumored that the Royal Guard will be receiving some sort of accommodation for their service.”

Godwine stepped down from the raised dais from which he delivered the news. In another hour's time he would deliver the same speech, adding in any new information he was given by his assistants. Sitting down he took a swig from his water jug. This would be a long day.