The City States of Greece

ooc: ah someone who knows precisely how much of an "evil scheming git" I can be.
 
Agamemnon Megakyrios was restless, for he had seen things in his dreams, great beasts, and great riders to tame them and ride them into battle beside a great and conquering King. Night after night these images came to him, along with strange whispering voices barely discernable, warning, urging and commanding in his dreams. Presiding over the festival of Zeus Athenaios, a traditional festival held annually in Athens, these thoughts continued to roll around in his mind as a headache was coming on. The desert heat of Athens was particularly tense this day and sitting in his official robes as head and sole member of the Megalis was hardly helping things...

reaching for a cup of water a searing pain tore through his body, as a blinding light filled his gaze, and as he spoke with a voice that was not his own... and as he spoke the people listened and beheld an oracle of the gods.

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The Prophecy of Agamemnon


People of Athens hail the Lord Zeus, King of the Gods and knower of secrets who whispers to this humble servant of his chosen house of a prize of great worth, a grace of the gods mandated as a gft to our people. A prize of prizes destined to be the font from which companions of Kings shall come forth to thunder across the world on swift hooves as fast as an arrow flies from the bow of apollo. The eye of the eagle sees children of Athens, and grants thee its direction. For lo the prize lies to the west of the seat of the northern folk, where this day visits one illuminated but in darkness, resting upon the eastern bounds of a swamp washed by the waters of Poseidon.

This is the revelation of Zeus the most high, who in the whispers of the night and in the wrath of the storm can be heard by the wise. Heed the wisdom of the gods children of Athens, send forth thy children into the north to make their dwelling place beside the River Taygetus which flows into the sea past the still blooms of Kyoto, that city which contests with Athens for glory. Have them make their dwelling place to the north and west of the place where the northernmost sanctuary of Dionysios spreads its sacred fruit, across the waters of Taygetus for this is the chosen place of Zeus.

Oh blessed Athenians should thy children settle here ye and all hellas shall claim the gift of the gods, for all olympus proclaims it! But should ye tarry, or send thy children elsewhere in blind arrogance and in defiance of Olympus, the adversary that contests with ye for glory shall spread from his resting place and and cut ye off from the gift the gods rightly grant unto you. And Wo, in that day the gods lament for from the folly of ignorance a great empire shall surely fall!


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Thus spoke the oracle of Zeus, Agamemnon Megakyrios on the festival of Zeus Athenaios.
 

Aaronius gets 4 prestige for his stories. Jehoshua gets 4 prestige for his stories.

The city was rampant with rumors of Agamemnon's Prophecy. Was it true? Should they heed his words? More important then this however, they would again be relieved of their taxes! The people of Athens were growing to like the Agamemnon as much as the founder, Fotismenos. They also heard word back from Kyoto, the Prinkipas has finished negotiations. They hoped he would be back soon, some feared he would die before he could make it back home. His son, however, was sill young and healthy, and was to be married to his childhood sweetheart. Though, some were surprised and even disappointed at his lack of political action, when his father had lead them in the founding of Athens at only 18. The city was thriving as more and more were turning away from fishing to the more productive, farming.

A new skill has been discovered! The Theologian skill (measure on religious knowledge).

A new skill has been discovered! The Multilingual Skill (languages known by the character, better ability to conduct diplomacy and hold sway with ethnic groups)
 
IC:

Speech

Forgive me Master Ainos, but I'm afraid you lack the authority of your father to make that decision and it is most presumptive of you to simply announce your taking regency. You unlike your father are not the Prinkipas, and indeed you do not hold any position in the Megalis or any organ of state that has the legal power to propose such a transfer of temporary administrative powers, which incidentally were given to me directly from the Prinkipas. You are a citizen, the son of our emminent Lord yes, but merely a citizen nonetheless who lacks any governmental power. Indeed this rash and arrogant pronouncement based entirely on your connection to your father has all the appearances of jealousy at your fathers trust in me, and at the peoples goodwill at the measures I implemented following your fathers example, in addition to being totally unlawful.

Nevertheless, considering your... close, relationship with our Prinkipas, I shall have a letter sent to him to resolve this matter. If he in his wisdom decides that he wishes for his untested and at it seems now, ingracious and disrespectful son to take the reigns in my stead, than naturally I shall accede to the wishes of the Prinkipas. Although considering your baseless and blatantly unlawful pronouncement, I will be advising him that such a thing would be most unwise. Indeed according to all the laws of Athens mandated in the Syntagma, and in consideration of the absolute sovereignty that is vested in the Prinkipas and the Megalis, you have no right whatsoever to be pronouncing as if you have authority. As such I am dutybound to inform you and the public that any action on this pronouncement is contrary to law until such time as regency is transferred by order of the Prinkipas.

However I do see that you have a desire to be involved in the affairs of state, at least now that your reputation has been damanged by your lack of filial respect for your estate, and your vulgar lack of involvement in the affairs of the polis. Therefore I raise you to the Megalis in my capacity as regent to represent the House Fotismenos, in order that you may aid in the government of the state, and so that should the Prinkipas see fit to transfer regency for gods know what reason that it is done with a minimum of fuss, and to someone who at the very least has some, even if little, experience in day to day governance. Oh but give me one last thing, as a member of the Megalis you will want something to specific to do I suppose, very well, as legal regent until such time as the arbitration of the Prinkipas is delivered I appoint you to the position of magistrate, since you love your pronouncements you shall judge and arbitrate the disputes of our people, perhaps this role will aid you in finding wisdom.

-

~raised Ainos Fotismenos to the Megalis
~sent letter to Prota Fotismenos for his arbitration in this matter.


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OOC: tsk tsk, there is a differentiation between Prota and Ainos, namely that the latter has no position or authority in your government structure to declare my regency at an end.

In consideration therefore of your constitution and of the role of the Prinkipas, all that Ainos' pronouncement can be said to be in context is the utterings of a spoiled brat who is envious of Agamemnons position and of the peoples like of him.

Ergo your IC statements were rather poorly designed and considering you have failed quite comprehensively to even discuss things with me properly so far, to the potential damage to the state considering you almost kowtowed to Japan on river settlement. You've also managed to be quite comprehensively rude with one word responses to pms and with a lack of consultation in your actions that makes you seem quite tyrannical. Thus I am going to throw IC law at you as punishment for you, as retribution for not even inquiring or discussing with me about what you intended to do first, and for your general rudeness to me in recent posts and private messages.

Oh and as you may be aware it is generally a very BAD idea to offend me with the kind of things your doing, especially as if you break your side of the bargain we have then the whole arrangement is null and void. I thus suggest you get back to keeping your side of things, as in so doing I will keep to mine and the peace can be maintained to both our benefits.
 
:popcorn: RP :popcorn:


Talk around the campfires was getting warmer lately. The glorious monument to Athena was almost complete, new people were immigrating into Athens every day, and there were quiet talks about creating an organized corps of workers to dramatically improve the yields of the wheat fields East of the city. However, times were still stressful as the Japanese threat remained poorly understood. To make matters worse, the noble houses were now fighting amongst themselves in what looked like a struggle for power. Was the good lord Agamemnon wise in his selection of a city site? Would these wild beasts near the Japanese city be of any use to god or man? Will we ever be able to harvest the Perla on the northern coast? Would the young prince usurp the throne, and why had he not yet taken a wife? So many questions, and so few answers for the good but lowly masses of Athens.

Welcome CivLeader. Come join us around the campfire as we continue the tall tale we call "The Aaronyssey"...

Part III: Enslaved

Spoiler :


Was this the answer to my prayers or my ignominious end? Is anyone on this craft looking out? If it ship does not turn soon it will drive me asunder. I managed to cry out in the instant before my tiny skiff was crushed beneath the prow of the immense sea craft… then all was black.

My next memory was still quite dark. I could hear the sound of wood and ropes; of creaking and flapping. Was that the sound of rushing water: a river, an oar? Perhaps I was on my way to see my friends and family in the next world… But something was amiss. What was that god-awful stench? There was a sharp cracking sound, and men’s voices, some loud and some hushed. The crack again, and now water was all around me. Was I drowning? Why can’t I move? Soon enough the world became light again. I had been unconscious, but now I was coming to. A bucket of water had been poured on me by a man standing overhead. Perhaps he had seen me returning to life and simply wished to help me wake up. But why are there ropes around my hands and feet?

There was daylight, but not very much filtered down to me. I was at the bottom of the great boat looking up at row upon row of planking where many men were seated. Above the seated men, on a narrow gangway that traversed the center of the craft from front to back, several other men stood or walked around carrying whips or canes. One of these men was standing at the back of the craft, holding his whip to his side and staring down at me through a space between the rows. He had a great aged beard and a suit of turban and robe, and he was laughing, but in a way that gave me no comfort. Standing immediately above me was this other man, dressed similarly, this time with a cane, and holding an empty bucket.

On rare occasions during my prosperous youth, larger sea-craft would visit my island and engage in peaceful trade. Our beautiful perla were appreciated by all who visited our shores, and the people of my community were able to acquire luxurious resources of an exotic nature in exchange. Some craft were larger versions of my own skiff: a single large tree that had been hollowed out by carving. Oftentimes one or more smaller trees would be attached out to one side by an ingenious design that imparted stability to the craft in rougher waters. These craft most often came from a few nearby islands that people in our community had visited as well. However, the journey was perilous and the expeditions only took place perhaps once in many years.

A second kind of craft had visited our shores as well. These were much larger than a simple skiff. They were built of many trees and could hold a vast number of men. Several very long oars could be plied on each side of the vessel, and despite their tremendous mass, they could move at a surprising rate of speed that rivaled even the fastest of the skiffs. But the most amazing thing about these craft was not the sheer size or number of men and oars. It was the tree that stood upright in the middle of the craft that could be used to support a great broad cloth. By some ingenious means the power of the wind could be harnessed to move the craft even faster by raising and lowering cloths upon this upright timber. It required the use of a great quantity of ropes, and a great deal of human coordination and strength. We called these craft “galea”.

Until my eleventh year, I had only heard tales of the galea, and was frankly unsure whether or not they really existed at all. I became all too convinced the day that I saw such a craft with my very own eyes. It floated like the wind upon our shores and spilled forth what seemed like fifty men. There was a great fight in which several members of my community were beaten. Three men were killed, and fifteen more were captured, including my uncle and two distant cousins. Several of the women were traumatized and most of our perla were taken from us, as the men from the boat ransacked house by house. The children were left alone mostly. It appeared that the people of this craft sought only to steal our riches from us, and to use some of our men as part of their crew. They left our shores less than a day after they arrived, and we never saw them again.

I was recalling my few traumatized glimpses of that galea and comparing it to what I saw before me. If anything, this craft seemed to contain even more men. My thoughts were thrown to one side very quickly however. Without touching me, the man standing overhead brandished a knife and cut loose the ropes about my hands and feet. Through the liberal use of his cane, he quickly managed to communicate to me that I must stand up, a truly difficult task. Persecuted by the cane, on a heaving boat in a living sea, and with a terrible ringing in my ears, I was thrown about quite shockingly in my first attempt, bringing more laughter from the bearded man above. The cane was a fine motivator however, and on my second attempt I managed to stand, leaning against the great post in the middle of the craft. All around me and indeed all over me was semi liquid filth. Apparently the men above simply relieved themselves where they sat at their oars. The man with the cane held his nose and screamed at me. I made a motion for water to slake my terrible thirst, but his only response was to lash out at my hands and my face with his cane. He pointed to the empty bucket that now lay on the ground, and then to the filth that was collecting at the lowest points of the craft. After a few minutes of wild gesticulation, screaming, and the use of that god-forsaken cane, the man ultimately convinced me that it was my job to remove the accumulated filth by filling the bucket, and then emptying it out of a large port near the middle of the craft.

As the great port-lid was opened sunlight and fresh sea air streamed in, mingled with little splashes of water from time to time. Bucket by bucket, I stood in and gathered the accumulated filth and emptied it over the side, pausing at the portal to breath in the good air. In my glimpses I could see the sky turning to evening shades, and miles of blue water flecked with bits of white. I could only pause for a single second, or the man with the cane would begin screaming and threaten to come back down. Eventually however, I found that there was less and less filth to remove, and I looked up at the man with the cane questioningly. He came back down to where I was and prodded me over to the portal, where by another series of gestures and cane strikes for emphasis, I realized he now wanted me to dip the bucket into the water outside. To accomplish this a short segment of rope was attached to the bucket, and by hanging the bucket over the side by this short rope I could collect sea-water. The bucket would now serve as my means of a bath. Once I had cleaned away the filth to the best of my ability, I was prompted by the cursed cane to climb up the ladder to the deck area above. Once above, I was directed towards an empty spot on a plank. My ankles were shackled to the plank, and my hands to the now silent and unmoving oar, and I was instructed to sleep where I sat along with the rest of the men. I was so exhausted from the last week of tribulation I had no trouble complying.

The next day began long before the first light in the east. The whip and the cane brought everyone back upright including me. The great cloth was limp and providing no thrust, so the oars were obliged to be run out. The great bearded man would yell out “All praise be to” to which the men at the oars would respond “Oceanus” as they strained at the power stroke of the oar. This rhythmic repitition of the words “All-praise-be-to ; O-ce-a-nus” along with the oars was quite hypnotic and kept the craft moving at a brisk pass. With the rising of the sun, the breeze revived, and we were ordered to ship our oars. Now the men in charge walked up and down the gangway five times. The first time they carried pots of a food that I would describe as a watery gruel. The men shackled to the oars would hold out their hands, cupped together, to receive the gruel and slurp it down before it escaped. I managed to eat most of mine, though I regretted a particular glob that escaped my clutches and fell into the depths below. The second pass yielded more gruel to my outstretched hands. This time I held my hands over my thighs, so that if any food escaped my hands it would be preserved. The third pass yielded water to my surprise and I lost much of it to my infinite regret. The fourth and fifth passes were also of fresh water, and I was able to preserve much more, though not nearly enough.

The routine of passing out gruel and water occurred five times each day. When we were tasked with rowing we might be given a little more water, but much depended on the water supply in the very few barrels aboard, which in turn depended on the sky above. I was beginning to think that the rest of my life would be defined by a battle between thirst, hunger and fatigue, to determine which misery would occupy my waking mind, and which would haunt my broken dreams.

The other rowers were of all different shapes colors and sizes. The men in charge were darker, and all possessed long hair (usually up in a turban), and robes. I did not understand the language of the men in charge, nor that of many of the rowers, but some rowers spoke a language similar to my own, and all were kind in gesture and intent. At certain times, very low, very small communication was possible. At other times it was sure to bring the whip or the cane. On the plank above me was a man about ten years my senior. He was a big, strong, broad-shouldered man with long golden hair and beard similar in shading to my own, but much fuller. He spoke a language identical to my own in a voice that was gruff but entirely understandable. He explained to me that my life as a free man was over, that we were slaves, and we would likely die where we sat. I asked him how long he had been here. He told me this was his second ship, that it was a new voyage with a specific mission, and that he had been on another ship before this for three or four years. I asked him to describe his home and how he came to be captured, but he did not wish to tell. Instead, he and the other slaves aboard wished to hear my tale. How had I come to be in the middle of the sea, in such a tiny and ridiculous shore-craft? How long had I been adrift, and how did I survive?

I related my tale as I have told it to you. This caused quite a stir of subdued excitement among the couple of nearby slaves that could understand my language, and the story was being retold in bits and pieces, in crude translation, according to each slave’s ability to understand the other. The man in front of me was listening and translating pleasantly enough for the men in front of and beside him. Later, they would share and translate with the men in the next row, and so on, throughout the ship. Although any communication among the slaves was strictly forbidden, this chain of storytelling and translation seemed to be an exception, and even the men in charge seemed very curious to know how I happened to be floating in their path in the middle of the sea.

When I named my home island of Atalantia the man in front of me gave a very significant jerk, he quickly relayed the information to two men across the central gangway from us who looked at me very hard indeed. When I mentioned what happened to my island the entire ship erupted in bit-part translation, shock, confusion, and incredulity. This was too much excitement and the whip cracked out and the cane struck hard, but in a subdued whisper the questioning and arguing voices could be heard in many languages. The old bearded man in charge walked down the gangway until he stood across from me and spoke questioningly as he pantomimed what I could only imagine was the eruption of the earth. I nodded and reproduced the gesture affirmatively. To this the man in charge began yelling to the others, and they all seemed to be talking at once, pointing over one of the rails and arguing about something.

While the men in charge were arguing the man in front of me asked me abruptly, “what is your name?”

“Aaronius” I said, “What is yours?”

“Aaronius”, said he “it is I, your uncle Poeitus. Across the gangway, that is your cousin Zanadis, and another member of our village, Bizzu, next to him. We are all that survive from four years ago when the great craft came to the village and took us away.”

I could not believe this incredible change in my fortune. Suddenly I was no longer alone in the world, and the thought gave me a happiness that I had almost forgotten how to feel. While my uncle and I were talking, the men in charge continued their debate. My uncle had learned the language of the men in charge, a people who lived on a landmass so vast that one could walk an entire lifetime in any direction and possibly not reach a coast. All of the men on the ship had seen a great light below the horizon ten nights past. This strange phenomenon had been followed by ominous black clouds the next day. The nature and meaning of these omens is what the men in charge were so passionately discussing at this moment.

My uncle continued in a hushed whisper. “This craft is destined for an island not far from our own, on a mission quite similar to the one that took me away. However, this time the prize is not men, but women.” I raised my eyebrows at this, but my uncle continued. “The men of this ship have had their wives and their daughters taken from them by a great and powerful army in their great kingdom. They are now sailing for the island we call Lesbos. Surely you can remember our village trading with Lesbian craft when you were younger? At any rate, Lesbos is much larger than our own island, with many more people upon it. In the past other ships from this kingdom have raided the island for men, just as they did our island. Now, they expect to find the island overpopulated with women, and they plan to carry back as many as they possibly can.”

Women - My mind began to drift at the thought. My mother…. Haephe…. Calypso.

“We must continue your tale later young Aaronius”, my uncle concluded. “According to the men in charge we should raise the island of Lesbos at first light tomorrow. For now, we must rest, for tomorrow promises to be wearisome in the extreme”.
Before dozing off amidst my thoughts the last thing I saw was the old man in charge, staring at me intensely while his men continued to debate in strident but more subdued tones.




Here are the previous two chapters...

Spoiler :


Part I: Atalantia Lost

I was born into a house of high standing, in a shining sun-kissed city, on a tiny island within the great middle sea. My people referred to our home as Atalantia.
My people were masters of the coastal bounty, and lived a life of contented ease. Our family accumulated wealth by the production of a kind of beaded jewelry of an iridescent white, but reflecting the colors of the rainbow upon close examination. It was the most beautiful ornament our people could produce, and the women of our community valued the trinkets that we called perla above all things. In my service to my father I assisted with the collection of the stone-like creatures we called ostreos, from which the perla were procured. I would submerge to the seabed collecting the ostreos in my father’s net, which I would hand up to him in his tiny skiff. There he would carefully pry open the shells revealing the perla, and he or I would eat the meat of the ostreo before returning the shell to the sea, or on rare occasions, saving the shells for other purposes. As I grew older I became a powerful swimmer with a love and fascination for the sea.

The cycle of the sun to the north and to the south had repeated 15 times when my father presented me with his old skiff and net. “You are a man now Aaronius, and in time my net must become your net, my knife your knife, and my skiff your skiff. You must soon choose a wife, and produce a son of your own, so that one day your net may become his.” His words were mildy disturbing to me and I was unable to stop thinking about them until I broke thru the quicksilver surface of the water on my first dive to the sea floor. I had never been so grateful to see the old familiar ostreo waiting for me in their simple silence. When my father and I returned home that evening, my mother was waiting for us with the most beautiful strings of perla she had ever produced. “When you choose a wife, this ornament will be a symbol to your wife of your ability to protect her and to provide her security and ease.” I was starting to feel very anxious and this made my mother smile and my father laugh out loud. “Of course you need not choose a wife tonight”, my father said. “Come and let us eat this feast that your mother has prepared in your honor”.

Of course, the phrase “choose a wife” was a bit of a stretch considering there were only two girls on the island anywhere near my age. Haepha was a few years my senior and lived in the house next door. In my eyes she was the very definition of female beauty and I spent many a spare moment in my yard trying to capture covert glances at her, and feeling very strange indeed. I rarely spoke to her and she rarely even looked in my direction. The only other prospective wife was her annoying younger sister Astree, who was always standing where I needed to walk, always speaking when I needed to think, and always pestering me to attend to some trivial thing. Although I had of course spoken to our neighbor’s entire family on many occasions, I tended to keep my own company as a child and rarely began conversation with others that did not have a set purpose. I desperately wanted to speak with Haepha, but I found the prospect of asking her to marry me to be absolutely terrifying. Suddenly I found that I was the one standing where she needed to walk, speaking to her when she was working alone, asking her questions that made no sense to either of us. For some reason I could not ask her to marry me, but I went to bed each night in frustration and confusion, swearing that the next day would be the day.

The moon had not completed a single phase of my 15th year when fortune abandoned my village and my destiny was changed forever. You see, my small island was alive beneath our feet. From time to time it would remind us of its discontent with rumblings beneath us and effusions of gas into the air above. On this fateful day our beloved island awoke as never before with rumblings that caused our very walls to crumble. There was a release of smoke and rock and the very blood of the earth itself. I was diving for the perla at the time, collecting the osteos in the small wooden skiff. Words cannot express my fright and confusion. The water became cloudy with filth, and in places nacreous bubbles and heat rose from cracks in the once placid sandy sea floor. The air became choked with smoke and dust, stones of all sizes fell around me, and the surface of the sea became agitated so that water air and earth could hardly be discerned. I survived somehow by clinging to my little skiff and hiding in its shadow from the falling rock.

After what seemed an eternity, perhaps no more than a day, the sun rose again over a desolate and unrecognizable landscape. I tried to return to the shore but vast stores of heated earth lay hidden beneath several feet of the finest black powder. Alas, I could not set foot on land without burning myself, and even so there was no longer any life on the island, nor even much sign that there ever had been. The tide was on the rise, and each wave that lapped the shore excavated vast quantities of the fine black sediment. So much so in fact, that the entire sea was still black and opaque all around me. I did not know what to do or where to go so I sat in my skiff, exhausted in the baking sun, staring at the desolate shoreline that was once my home. As the tide reached further up onto the shore, the waves began excavating bodies. Some bodies crouching where they had been standing, unaware of what to do or where to go. Some bodies seemingly in the act of running, trapped in the soil until freed by the penetrating waves. Other bodies floated in the blackened waters, invisible sometimes until they bumped into me or my skiff. So thick and cloudy was the sea, and so abundant were the bits of floating debris that once made up my homeland. The last body to be excavated by the rising tide was that of my beloved Haepha. Her pose was one of a crawl towards the sea, with her mouth agape and her arm outstretched in desperation. It is an image that will haunt my mind until my dying day…

With a heavy heart and a clouded mind I turned away from my island and all that I had ever known. I began to row in the direction of the setting sun.

Part II: Adrift

Never before had I considered the vastness of the great sea. For day after day it was nothing but a little disk of blue surrounding me. By day the disk was lit with an unimaginable brilliance, and the deeper blue produced by a passing cloud became the most desirable color in existence. By night the blue was replaced by a lustrous silver. At dusk and dawn could be seen all of the colors of the perla that I had known and loved since birth. But regardless of the color, the disk remained unchanged: day, after day, after day.

Food became an issue very quickly as I was a full blooded and growing young man, but I was more or less successful in this regard. My net that I used to collect the osteos was also handy for other uses as well. I could not really capture any ichthys with it, but there were small kalmari in great numbers that I came across on a couple of occasions. They were so numerous and apparently interested in one another, I probably could have captured a dozen with my bare hands. As it was, the bottom of my boat was filled with dozens of the creatures, each roughly the size of the palm of my hand. I ate them raw, wet and wriggling. If only I had managed to preserve one or two shells of the osteos, I could have fashioned a hook, and used some of my net to create a line, along with the less appealing kalmari as bait. However, between the two instances of kalmari, and one rather fortunate collision with an exocoetus that flew into my little skiff with me, I was not near to starvation, even after a week at sea.

The far greater problem was water, fresh water. On my second day at sea I was blessed with a shower that drenched my hair and slaked my thirst and filled the bottom of my little skiff. The water at the bottom of the skiff was drinkable for another day, but slowly it dwindled, and more and more salt-water came in and mixed with it, to the point that I had to stop drinking. Another danger I had never considered was the sun itself. I had thought that no amount of sun could damage my skin but I was wrong. After two days with no protection my back and shoulders began to burn rather shockingly. For the next three days I spent most of the day hanging over the side, trying desperately to derive some shade from my skiff, and preserving my skin in the water. By the sixth day at sea my strength began to fail me. The lack of water began driving me mad, and my muscles failed in their duty and would sometimes cramp intolerably. Consequently I could not hang over the side of my little boat, nor row. I simply laid in my little skiff, adrift with no plan in mind, continually recalling a phrase my father used to utter so often “surrounded by water with nothing to drink”.

It was during the sixth day that the visions began. Thoughts of my mother and father, Haepha and even Astree, and many other extended family and friends from my lost home of Atalantia were never far from my mind by day or night. But at some point on the sixth day they came to me as never before, as if they were in my boat with me in corporeal form. On several occasions I would reach out to touch them, failing to understand why I could not. Words cannot express the heartache I felt by not being able to embrace the visions. I began to understand that if I closed my eyes I could see them even better; that they existed on the other side of some now recognizable border. They spoke of a darker place, and a river they had crossed. I began to feel as though my little skiff might cross this river as well.

However, I began to take greater notice of other presences as well around this time. Sometimes it seemed that there was a greater intelligence to the sea than I had previously imagined. The second occurrence of kalmari seemed to have almost been herded toward my craft, and on the night that the flying fish jumped into my boat I swore that I saw some lithe female-like form beneath the surface, chasing exocoetus up into the air. On the sixth night I began to notice voices in the water, in opposition to the characters of my friends and family in my boat. These voices were calling for me to hold fast, to open my eyes once more, to inhale and exhale again. I could no longer lift my head to look over the side of my skiff, as my muscles would no longer respond correctly, but I could feel appendages touching my craft, and I perceived a motion that slowly gained in speed. I asked these phantasms repeatedly who or what they were, and what purpose they had for me. All I could perceive from their responses was a name or a sound: Neriedes.

On the seventh and final day of my time in the skiff, one of the most vocal of the nymph-like creatures climbed over the rim of my craft and introduced herself as Calypso. She managed to convince me through various tricks and charms that a long and significant destiny awaited me on this side of the dark river that separates this life and the next. Her charms were of a distinctly feminine nature, and I was shocked to learn that some deep unknown supply of vitality remained at the base of my mortal coil. In fact, so effective were Calypso’s methods that I actually found myself sitting up in the middle of the seventh day, in an effort to reach out to touch this strange phantasmagoric creature. At this very moment of my rising a great rendering crack occurred above my head, and a blinding flash lit the strangely darkened midday sky. The heavens opened and blessed rain began to fall so thick that I could hardly breath. The water soaked into my briny skin, through my eyes and ears and nose and mouth. For several minutes I was awash in happiness, becoming drunk on the blessed fresh water, and enraptured by the visage and motions of Calypso.

Every bit as suddenly as the storm began, the clouds parted, rays of sunlight exploded through, and Calypso winked and dashed from the front of my craft without a word. Before my feelings of immense disappointment and betrayal could even fully form, I found my eyes staring at a great sea craft that was boring down directly upon me, flying out of the curtain of the storm…

 
ooc: the monument is to athena ;) Oh and its not so much a power struggle, as that Tambien has decided to ignore his own Syntagma and to generally not act properly in his interactions with me in and out of context. This making me exceedingly irritated to the point of shoving a legal sock down his second character throat.

(replying to my PM giving important information to him with "And...." is not a proper response. also having to pester you for information about your negotiations only to find you has just about agreed to forfeit our national interest by not settling on a certain river is rather irritating, unilateral action is generally not a good thing, the triumvirate always consulted, and even in Artaparsa I made a point of consulting the AI at times).
 
ooc: You claim against democracy and then ask for a consensus? Well, that's quite contradictory, but anyway. I know you mean talking to you but... man, that's democracy cuz there's only you two out there :p

On top of that, the river was a best choice, we shouldn't have renounced to it. We just can't.

PS: Ugh, I didn't see Tambien had a son... It's not his job anyway to kick Jehoshua out of office in my opinion, Prota is the one who can so... I'm with Jehoshua here.

IC:
Out of the city, in the wheat fields, discontent was rising with the younger Fotismenos, as he pretended to take power and decisions ought to his father and tried to kick Agamemnon Megakyrios off his regency.

"This young Fotismenos is a spoilt, arrogant child"
"I don't think he would be suitable to become our Prinkipas"
"He needs to change to deserve being it"
"His foolish actions could split our noble families from their unity in the government, nobody wants that."
"Yeah, the Japanese could very well be a threat"
"We need our Prinkipas to decide upon this question"
"It is imperative that he does."
 
No it's not, it never is :D
 
ooc: the monument is to athena ;) Oh and its not so much a power struggle, as that Tambien has decided to ignore his own Syntagma and to generally not act properly in his interactions with me in and out of context. This making me exceedingly irritated to the point of shoving a legal sock down his second character throat.

(replying to my PM giving important information to him with "And...." is not a proper response. also having to pester you for information about your negotiations only to find you has just about agreed to forfeit our national interest by not settling on a certain river is rather irritating, unilateral action is generally not a good thing, the triumvirate always consulted, and even in Artaparsa I made a point of consulting the AI at times).

OOC:

@Jehoshua,

My bad, fixed Zeus to Athena. Also, no worries, just stirring the pot and cooking prestige :cowboy:


@Mickster,

welcome to dusty Athens. We will save a placefor you around the fire. :rockon:
 
IC: As i walked across the hills, my legs aching, my mouth dry and my arm broken, i laid my eyes on a beautiful sight - Civilization!!.
It was a small town, near a desert, but nonetheless it was a city. A small bond fire my visible as the sun set. Would they welcome me or turn me into a slave to do their work?
Maybe if they allow me to tell them my story they will allow me to live their in peace, and maybe even own land?
 
OOC: Jehoshua.... must I explain everything to you twice?

IC:

It appears that I forgot to mention the fact that my father sent me a courier with the order. I can furnish it for you now.

Ainos-
I may not make it home alive. Take over the regency, and be prepared for elevation. Good luck my son, and take care of our people. They deserve the best.
Prota

OOC: Oh, and sorry I forgot to add this the first time. I meant to, but I got distracted by writing the essay I was writing, and forgot about it.
 
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