Frozen In Ice
Emperor
- Joined
- Jun 30, 2007
- Messages
- 1,536
Just sent my orders. I'll try to get a story up soon too.
BirdNES 2: Forge of Empires -- The Manonash
- Thread starter Birdjaguar
- Start date
Abaddon
Deity
Well done to all sending orders 
The Law of Yerhl
Written by Joseron I in his exile, before reaching Gaznel.
Written by Joseron I in his exile, before reaching Gaznel.
_______________________________________________
I.Prohibition of Idolatry-You shall not make yourself an idol.
II.Prohibition of Murdur-You shall not murder.
III.Prohibition of Theft-You shall not steal.
IV.Prohibition of Sexual Promiscuity-You shall not commit adulatry.
V.Prohibition of Blasphemy-You shall not blaspheme.
VI.Prohibition of Cruelty-You shall not torture any other person, mentally or physically.
VII.Prohibition of Substance Abuse-You shall not consume any substance which alters the effects of one's mind.
VIII.Requirement to have just laws-You Shall set up an effective government to police the preceding seven laws fairly.
The Strategos
Thanatos
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2002
- Messages
- 1,175
I see the surrounding cultures all must have a lot of temple prostitutes tied into their worship, which is frowned upon by your culture.
So no wine or ceremonial incense to help the priests commune with the spiritual world?
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
Lurker's Comment: A REAL priest doesn't need wine or ceremonial incense to contact the spiritual world, they have it on speed dial so to speak
Abaddon
Deity
Lurker's Comment: A REAL priest doesn't need wine or ceremonial incense to contact the spiritual world, they have it on speed dial so to speak
It is more fun the other way though
{Writer's block, but I like the culture bonus more than my dignity, so enjoy some tripe.}
The Woman on the Throne
"How can women have the same rights as man? Clearly men are better in every aspect."
-Krats Rheet
The year was 93 Dan Fyrna Pax (In the Glorious Years). In the beautiful island nation of Rynt, a change was occuring. Power was shifting hands. The fates held their collective breaths.
With nary a word and with a smile on his face, Jacos Vuryta died. Since his only progeny consisted of one daughter and his brothers all died of various causes, she became the sole candidate for Ryntjin Lynjin. She was sworn in, grudgingly, by the Old Families.
Almost immediately, the False Rebellion erupted. Draena's sparkling wit and charm and her stunning grasp of military tactics led to a calming of the flames.
-----
"It's been peaceful for these last few years." Famous last words, perhaps, but if you were Draena Vuryta, you'd believe it. It had been twelve years since the False Rebellion and all was well. Her beloved son, Kraz Vuryta, was in line for the throne.
She was lounging around inside the palace. It was her day of birth and she didn't feel like accomplishing anything.
-----
On the other side of the city, a few men were plotting. One of them was Krats Rheet. Another was Rymok Eau. They knew that they would become terribly important later.
"Are the preparations complete?" asked Krats.
"Of course," said Rymok. "What do you take me for, a fool?"
"Perhaps, perhaps," he said, with a grin. He never could be serious.
"Let's begin then. We've no time to waste."
-----
Draena decided to take a walk around the city. She summoned her guards and stepped out of the palace.
"My gods," she said. "what is that?"
Two guards seized an arm each.
"Sirs?"
"Come with us, inside," the one on the right side, not unkindly.
"I refuse, I must go and--"
"We insist," they said, drawing her back. She saw the rest of her guards drawing swords, running forward, to do who knew what.
The Woman on the Throne
"How can women have the same rights as man? Clearly men are better in every aspect."
-Krats Rheet
The year was 93 Dan Fyrna Pax (In the Glorious Years). In the beautiful island nation of Rynt, a change was occuring. Power was shifting hands. The fates held their collective breaths.
With nary a word and with a smile on his face, Jacos Vuryta died. Since his only progeny consisted of one daughter and his brothers all died of various causes, she became the sole candidate for Ryntjin Lynjin. She was sworn in, grudgingly, by the Old Families.
Almost immediately, the False Rebellion erupted. Draena's sparkling wit and charm and her stunning grasp of military tactics led to a calming of the flames.
-----
"It's been peaceful for these last few years." Famous last words, perhaps, but if you were Draena Vuryta, you'd believe it. It had been twelve years since the False Rebellion and all was well. Her beloved son, Kraz Vuryta, was in line for the throne.
She was lounging around inside the palace. It was her day of birth and she didn't feel like accomplishing anything.
-----
On the other side of the city, a few men were plotting. One of them was Krats Rheet. Another was Rymok Eau. They knew that they would become terribly important later.
"Are the preparations complete?" asked Krats.
"Of course," said Rymok. "What do you take me for, a fool?"
"Perhaps, perhaps," he said, with a grin. He never could be serious.
"Let's begin then. We've no time to waste."
-----
Draena decided to take a walk around the city. She summoned her guards and stepped out of the palace.
"My gods," she said. "what is that?"
Two guards seized an arm each.
"Sirs?"
"Come with us, inside," the one on the right side, not unkindly.
"I refuse, I must go and--"
"We insist," they said, drawing her back. She saw the rest of her guards drawing swords, running forward, to do who knew what.
The Strategos
Thanatos
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2002
- Messages
- 1,175
Wensin adjusted the short strings that were attached to adjustable pegs in the frame. Kneeling back on slightly, he looked at his work thus far, giving the string a short tug to make sure it was secure. Satisfied, Wensin reached into the little bag at his feet, pulling out one of the smooth stones his children had collected from one of the small mountain streams that dotted the mountain side. Carefully measuring the spacing, Wensin pushed the pebbles into the soft border of the skin, folding the pebbles into the skin to form knobs. As he made each new knob, Wensin would loop around a cord which would then be anchored into a slot of a revolving peg in the frame to which he was lashing the skin.
Wensins fingers moved with practiced precession, almost by their own will, he had done this so many times. It was all he knew, though his father, who ran the parchment making business before him, had told him of the old days when they used to nail the skin to the frame. As the skin dried, however, it would shrink, causing the edges to tear away. It used to frustrate his father to no end, as the tears would always hurt the price. Then, however, Wensins father, either by discovering it himself, or copying another, or learning it from a visiting merchant, his father was never clear on which one, taught him this better way.
Soon, Wensin had worked his way around the entire skin, so that it was now taunt. Giving the skin a few test taps, Wensin heard a pleasing sound, almost like a drum, indicating that the skin was as tight as it would get without damaging it. Reaching down, Wensin bypassed the bag that had held his pebbles, picking up a small knife that had been laying nearby. The knife was one Wensin had recently bought at the market. Previously he had just used a regular knife, but this one worked so much better. This knife was crescent shaped, with curved blades sprouting out of a central handle. Vigorously, Wensin began to scrape the skin, in order to take off the last of the impurities, and make it nice and smooth. As he worked, Wensin would occasionally stop to fiddle with the pegs, in order to ensure that the skin remained taunt as it dried without tearing.
Later, when the skin was fully dried, Wensin would come back and scrape it again, the last stage of his job before he sold it. Like virtually all of the parchment makers around, Wensin made parchment exclusively for the temple, where it would either be sold to incoming pilgrims to write their questions for the oracles on, or used by the priests themselves. Now, except for the artisans and merchants catering to the pilgrims and the priests themselves, Wensin figured most locals were in some way involved in parchment making. Sheep herding became big business for some, as they not only were able to use the wool and meat, but now were able to sell the skins to parchment makers like Wensin.
Though, in his mind, the shepherds had it better than some like Wensins brother-in-law. His brother-in-law oversaw the first step in the parchment making process, and he was welcome to it. He was a nice enough guy, but Wensin hated visiting him as he always reeked of the stink of lime. His job was to remove the hairs by soaking the skins in giant vats in the slaked lime solution for a week or longer, depending on the weather, stirring the vats daily. Afterwards, his brother-in-law would hang the skins over beams and start scraping them, getting himself wet as he leaned against the still lime-soaked skins. After scraping away the hair, he flips the skin over, scraping the other side to get rid of the remaining flesh. It is only two days later, after the skin has been lying in a mountain stream to get rid of the lime, and its smell, that Wensin would finally go over to pick up the skins, beginning his own job. Though it was no harder, nor took any more skill, Wensin always made sure his brother-in-law got more than his fair share of the money he made selling the parchments to the temple, in order to compensate him in some small way for his perpetual odor.
A noise behind Wensin made him stop, looking behind him in order to identify the source of the noise. Seeing the familiar robes of a temple priest, he got up, only to quickly bow. Would you like some food or drink, honored guest? He asked, secretly hoping that the priest would refuse. After all, it cut into his profits, thought that was better than insulting his guest by not offering which might cause him to lose the temples business, which meant losing all of his business.
To Wensins relief, the priest declined. No, I am merely here on business. The next batch you deliver to the temple is going to be for a special use. As such, we want it finer than your normal wares.
Wensin bowed again. Honored sir, I am happy to obey, but you realize that will require greater work and effort on my part.
I understand, the temple will compensate you for your extra work. The priest pulled out a bag, which he gave to Wensin before leaving. Wenisn looked in the bag, smiling at its contents. Placing it to the ground between his feet, Wensin attacked the skin with renewed vigor. He would have to work hard if he wanted to fulfill the temples special order.
Wensins fingers moved with practiced precession, almost by their own will, he had done this so many times. It was all he knew, though his father, who ran the parchment making business before him, had told him of the old days when they used to nail the skin to the frame. As the skin dried, however, it would shrink, causing the edges to tear away. It used to frustrate his father to no end, as the tears would always hurt the price. Then, however, Wensins father, either by discovering it himself, or copying another, or learning it from a visiting merchant, his father was never clear on which one, taught him this better way.
Soon, Wensin had worked his way around the entire skin, so that it was now taunt. Giving the skin a few test taps, Wensin heard a pleasing sound, almost like a drum, indicating that the skin was as tight as it would get without damaging it. Reaching down, Wensin bypassed the bag that had held his pebbles, picking up a small knife that had been laying nearby. The knife was one Wensin had recently bought at the market. Previously he had just used a regular knife, but this one worked so much better. This knife was crescent shaped, with curved blades sprouting out of a central handle. Vigorously, Wensin began to scrape the skin, in order to take off the last of the impurities, and make it nice and smooth. As he worked, Wensin would occasionally stop to fiddle with the pegs, in order to ensure that the skin remained taunt as it dried without tearing.
Later, when the skin was fully dried, Wensin would come back and scrape it again, the last stage of his job before he sold it. Like virtually all of the parchment makers around, Wensin made parchment exclusively for the temple, where it would either be sold to incoming pilgrims to write their questions for the oracles on, or used by the priests themselves. Now, except for the artisans and merchants catering to the pilgrims and the priests themselves, Wensin figured most locals were in some way involved in parchment making. Sheep herding became big business for some, as they not only were able to use the wool and meat, but now were able to sell the skins to parchment makers like Wensin.
Though, in his mind, the shepherds had it better than some like Wensins brother-in-law. His brother-in-law oversaw the first step in the parchment making process, and he was welcome to it. He was a nice enough guy, but Wensin hated visiting him as he always reeked of the stink of lime. His job was to remove the hairs by soaking the skins in giant vats in the slaked lime solution for a week or longer, depending on the weather, stirring the vats daily. Afterwards, his brother-in-law would hang the skins over beams and start scraping them, getting himself wet as he leaned against the still lime-soaked skins. After scraping away the hair, he flips the skin over, scraping the other side to get rid of the remaining flesh. It is only two days later, after the skin has been lying in a mountain stream to get rid of the lime, and its smell, that Wensin would finally go over to pick up the skins, beginning his own job. Though it was no harder, nor took any more skill, Wensin always made sure his brother-in-law got more than his fair share of the money he made selling the parchments to the temple, in order to compensate him in some small way for his perpetual odor.
A noise behind Wensin made him stop, looking behind him in order to identify the source of the noise. Seeing the familiar robes of a temple priest, he got up, only to quickly bow. Would you like some food or drink, honored guest? He asked, secretly hoping that the priest would refuse. After all, it cut into his profits, thought that was better than insulting his guest by not offering which might cause him to lose the temples business, which meant losing all of his business.
To Wensins relief, the priest declined. No, I am merely here on business. The next batch you deliver to the temple is going to be for a special use. As such, we want it finer than your normal wares.
Wensin bowed again. Honored sir, I am happy to obey, but you realize that will require greater work and effort on my part.
I understand, the temple will compensate you for your extra work. The priest pulled out a bag, which he gave to Wensin before leaving. Wenisn looked in the bag, smiling at its contents. Placing it to the ground between his feet, Wensin attacked the skin with renewed vigor. He would have to work hard if he wanted to fulfill the temples special order.
We might be a religous people, but we're liberal too. Other cultures can do what they want
JosefStalinator
Я буду снова здесь
We might be a religous people, but we're liberal too. Other cultures can do what they want
There's no such thing as liberalism for another... 4,000 years
das
Regeneration In Process
lurker's comment: Extreme fasting and general asceticism (possibly corporal mortification?) is less expensive and more awesome. Also, this and the previous articles seem to express both extreme clerical puritanism and, presumably, a generally weak and downtrodden priest class (possibly it merely reflects that Joseron really didn't like them; it possibly also reflects that either he or some successor still will do what is needed to ingrain the above).
Oops wrong thread.
The Strategos
Thanatos
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2002
- Messages
- 1,175
Well I meant it to read "no wine for anyone" (so I perhaps should have put a period after "no wine" in the original post, the implication being that banning fermented drinks would be highly unpopular). And I guess my jab about using "idolatry" instead of "adultery" was either too esoteric to make sense, or made so much sense that no one else noticed that it should read "adultery" in law IV.
I agree, there seems to be an iconoclastic and ascetic feel to the laws, law I especially can be used to strip any wealth away from the temples and priests under the guise that any decoration represents the making of idols. However, this asceticism seems to be directed not only at the priest class, but also the populous as a whole (see Law VII banning fermented drink). It is something I would expect a desert culture to come up with, where scarcity is a way of life, and excess by an individual could be dangerous to the state.
Law VIII is interesting as it seems to be an (unbelievably?) early social contract theory of government, which may cause all kinds of social strife goodness down the road. Specifically, social strife will evolve over the "You," does it refer to the King, the nobility, the priesthood, the masses? Since the rest of the laws seem to be directed at the masses, I bet eventually they will want VIII to be interpreted as being directed at them as well.
I agree, there seems to be an iconoclastic and ascetic feel to the laws, law I especially can be used to strip any wealth away from the temples and priests under the guise that any decoration represents the making of idols. However, this asceticism seems to be directed not only at the priest class, but also the populous as a whole (see Law VII banning fermented drink). It is something I would expect a desert culture to come up with, where scarcity is a way of life, and excess by an individual could be dangerous to the state.
Law VIII is interesting as it seems to be an (unbelievably?) early social contract theory of government, which may cause all kinds of social strife goodness down the road. Specifically, social strife will evolve over the "You," does it refer to the King, the nobility, the priesthood, the masses? Since the rest of the laws seem to be directed at the masses, I bet eventually they will want VIII to be interpreted as being directed at them as well.
The Manonash
Update One: The Rise of Nations
It was the year 197 and Sinope had been dead for over 20 years, but every time Jonas passed through this part of the Tekashen coast he stopped and remembered. He settled under one of the towering boat trees that dominated these wet and windswept islands and pulled his pouch of dried fish and fruit onto his lap and mindlessly crunched small handfuls as he thought about his life. He had been ten when Sinope found him in the slums of Yamacraw in about the year 134. As he recalled, Sinope was making an infrequent visit to Oracle and in approaching the fabled home of Wendar, had passed through the Xochicalco city. Jonas’ mother had been a whore and most days he played and foraged for stuff he could either eat or sell, Sinope noticed him digging through the garbage behind a small inn and offered him a bit of food. And so began their lifetime of friendship and travels. Those early years were so wonderful and, looking back, almost magical. Sinope had left the Oracle soon after the ancient saint Teka Tipu passed beyond. Of course, no one then, except Sinope, knew what a holy person Teka had been; Sinope had spent six years listening to his stories and writing them down. There was a time when Jonas had longed to have been so lucky to have known Teka. He was past that now and just enjoyed every day he could get up and continue his travels without too much pain. Like Sinope and Teka before him, Jonas collected the stories and tales of the Manonash. While Jonas was still a youth, Sinope had taught him tricks to memorize long tales and retell them in such a way that he could hold an audience for hours at a time. Later Jonas learned to write and many of the stories were transcribed and left in cities and towns all across the Manonash. Between the two of them they had born witness to almost a hundred years of history and had numerous adventures of their own. Without noticing what he was doing, Jonas reached under his shirt and held the silver amulet that hung from his neck. Unconsciously he gently felt the worn designs and smooth edges. It had been Sinope’s parting gift. What a lifetime he had had! What places he had been and what events he had seen or heard tell of! A century of tales were at his beck and recall. Slowly his mind shut out the world and he descended into the story telling trance and began to speak softly as gods took control. As Jonas spoke, travelers passed by. Some paid him no mind; others sat quietly and listened as his words unfolded in metered verse.
“Sit quiet now my children, while the tale is told, it’s the storied life of Teka, mysterious saint of old,
He lived above the god, beneath a tree of neem, and never was his life exactly what it seemed…”
Bit by bit the story of the Manonash was told. There was the building of the great amphitheater of Wendar; it was built in 31 and he had heard Sinope speak in trance for two days straight while relating the life of Teka Tipu. Such eloquence and emotion had never since been heard in that sacred place. The amphitheater had marked the start of glorious growth in and around the temple. Of course bards, poets and story tellers flocked to the Oracle for a chance to be heard in such a grand theater. New schools for scribes standardized ritual and writing and even herds of sheep were raised to provide wool, sacrifices, and in their final end, parchment for the scribes. Over time the pageantry and ceremony of the temple evolved into decadence and orgiastic indulgence that ended with the death of the high priest at one of his more elaborate affairs. Reformist elements among the priesthood returned to power and the grandness of the past restored. The pilgrims and seekers of truth returned, adding to the temple coffers.
Unbidden, the story of the Oracle faded into Xochicalco and the fabled city of the lake. From the mountains to the sea the nation now reached. Strange even by the standards of the Manonash, the Xochicalco people chose their kings by acclamation and the top three choices fought to the death. The single survivor was proclaimed king for the next 33 years. Many candidates chose proxies to fight in their place and as kings neared death or the end of their reign the best warriors rose in both prominence and value. For the most part wise kings and queens ruled and improved the nation with new roads and granaries. In recent years an archive was started to house royal records. And then as if walking the southern road from the great lake of Xochicalco Jonas’ mind traveled to Vissarai and its great explorer King, Tugnamh. It was he who first sailed south along the coast in search of metals and riches. In fact the Vissarai became the premier metal workers of the whole coast and their bronzes tools and weapons were much sought after. Their advances in metallurgy led to better tools for farming and construction which improved both food production and construction capabilities. The more complex constructions led to the development of people skilled in the engineering of more elaborate projects.
As the famed storyteller spoke through his trance, visitors came and went, and when the words collapsed into gibberish as happened on occasion as one story faded into the next, the audience might be only one or two persistent souls.
The stories of Asmarth that spilled from the lips of Jonas that day upon the rocky coast were jumbled and a bit out of order, if there had ever been orderliness to them. They spoke of kingly dreams of a new city set upon a high mountain that was beset with gardens and waterfalls and all manner of stately homes and palaces. And there was road, a great white road that led from the plains to the city’s mighty gates and when those gates opened, chariots that were not chariots sped down the mountain to do great deeds upon the grasslands and return home with plunder and slaves. And the city would be called “Rochos”. Now none knew of such a city and thought it must be hidden, but mayhaps it was just a kingly dream.
“To the east of Xochicalco begins a tale I know,
On roads the travelers trod along the coast of far Shashod…”
Jonas began once again. Shashod was young nation just rising to prominence along the coast, but its kings were wise in what they did. As they expanded south into the interior they built roads and farms and bought new bronze tools so farmers could produce more grain to feed the growing populace. As a coastal nation they watched and learned from those around them and saw that bigger boats would enrich all that they did with the sea and as good leaders they knew the value of leadership and taught it to those who would follow in their footsteps.
“In Liasou it was declared, all across the land:
Books will be a plenty, as many as the sand;
The king reads, and so will all—
Lord Ji Zi now has spoken; it’s best to heed the call….”
The stories about Liasou were well attended by those passing the entranced form of Jonas for they told the story of armies on the march and war. The kings of Liasou were not shy and pressed their claims of lordship up and down the coast as far as they could. In 159, Pong Sin III, fresh from victory over the barbarous northern coast, turned south and eyed the rich river lands of Gaznel. Snake-eyed men were sent south to incite rebellion among the people of Gaznel’s mainland holdings and when that failed to stir a clamorous call for Liasou’s rule, Pong Sin struck both on land and by sea. At sea his initial success came from surprise, but soon the larger Gaznel war canoe fleet prevailed and drove the invaders back with losses. On land the armies were equally matched in infantry and the new bronze weapons took a toll on both sides, but it was the Gaznel chariots that roamed the battlefield unopposed that forced the issue and routed the Liasou cause. Peace was made and borders settled in 162.
In Gaznel the brief war with Liasou shocked the unsuspecting King Gazaul II whose death in 164 may have been brought about by an injury suffered in a skirmish. But in the scheme of things it had little impact on the growing shadow of Gaznel. From their home islands, many settlers migrated to the mainland and settled all along the river founding a new city they called Gazsaulseron. By the end of the century, religion was assuming a strong leadership role throughout the country. New docks and maritime infrastructure was built and roads connected the coasts with inland sources of goods and foodstuffs raised in newly cleared farmland and orchards of young fruit trees transplanted from around the capital.
“There once was a whore from Cantonia
Who for a dime would show her tatonias,
But with your eyes glued there
On breasts that were bare,
Her hands quickly picked your pocketonias.”
Bawdy rhymes seemed to be a part of the Cantonia way of life and every storyteller could recite scores of them; even in their sleep, as it were. Prostitution was an economic force in all the Cantonian lands including their new enclave far to the west of their homeland. This sudden appearance of Cantonese (sorry Alex
) ships loaded with settlers off the coast near Xochicalco caused some concerns, but the new folks were peaceful and left undisturbed as they enlarged and solidified their holdings. In the east Cantonia lands expanded and with that expansion came the ubiquitous red robes of the Cantonian gods. These priests built small shrines, not only in Cantonia, but in the larger towns and cities throughout the northern Manonash and they regularly collected a small, but devout following. By 195 the red robes could be found building their alters and finding believers as far away as Gaznel and Tekashen. And now that Cantonia had shrines and temples in the western reaches of the region, few doubted that it would be long before the red robed priests would find converts in Xochicalco and Vissarai. Around noon Sheriar returned to the high, tree-covered bluff overlooking the sea where he had left his master earlier that morning. He was not totally surprised to find a dozen strangers quietly listening to the entranced Jonas telling tales of their travels. More and more frequently Jonas fell into his story trance unexpectedly and while in that state he could go on for hours and hours. His voice was not as strong as when he actively put himself under the spell and told his tales nor did these telling pack the emotion of planned performances. None-the-less they were still captivating. Sheriar was in his late twenties and had been with Jonas for over a decade. After five years Jonas had taught him the secret of the story trance and how to invoke it and tap any or all of the stories he had memorized. Over time he had felt the pull of his hidden mind and its powers and knew that one day, like Jonas, he too would succumb and fall into one final trance. As he listened with the others, he felt for the silver medallion that he wore. It was just like Jonas’ and had been what brought the two together. Jonas had been making a crossing from Kiidor to Tekashen and Sheriar had been hired to collect the human waste from the bottom of the large canoe and dump it over board. Jonas saw the medallion and had asked about it. It had been a gift from Sheriar’s father’s father and he was told to keep it always, at any cost. It would bring him luck. And it had.
Jonas’ verses had started with the tales of Rynt and the war with Ilosilletar.
“War canoes made a mighty fleet of men at arms tough to beat,
The voyage was short, not too far, a thousand men sent to Ilosilletar….”
Sheriar thought back to the history behind the verses. It had been 122 that Pyrnol Vuryta led a proud fleet of ships and men to conquer their neighbors to the north. Neither army was particularly well trained nor well led, but the Ilosilletar navy had recently been expanded in size beyond that of Rynt and a new marine academy had just begun to turn out captains of better quality. The attack was a brute force attempt to capture the home island of Ilosilletar and they landed with little planning beyond hack and slash their way to victory. In the first summer of the war it worked and 1,000 Rynt warriors pillaged a hefty portion of the island. But with fall, came the counter attacks that destroyed many of the Rynt war canoes and transports. That was followed by a tough land effort that drove the Rynt troops back to the beaches around the small town of Dunne’kirl. With their diminished control over the sea lanes, Pyrnol secretly abandoned the invasion and brought his army back to safer lands. Skirmishing ensued through the winter months, but by spring it was clear the armies would soon be too small to pursue the war. Peace was made in the fall of 122. Beyond the wars, both nations spent the century improving themselves. The failure of the war had brought several Rynt national failures to light and improvements to the government bureaucracy were made, as well as, the schooling for children. In addition, the rulers established a policy of promoting people based on merit and accomplishment. This effort was rigorously pursued by the kings and set the tone for future rulers. The nobility responded with greater effort to do things better. In Ilosilletar similar efforts were undertaken make the nation stronger. Leadership was improved and investments made in shipbuilding and seamanship, as well as, crafting techniques in economically important work. Both nations learned the value of tin in making bronze and bronze working spread quickly, especially in the making of weapons.
The failure of the Rynt attack on Ilosilletar brought another war to mind for Sheriar. One that was more recent. In 150 Afan O’Keyal took the throne of Tekashen upon the death of his father. He was paranoid and feared that his navy was inferior to that of his neighbor in Razzak who at the time had no navy to speak of. Afan began raiding the Razzak coast in the 150s. They managed to shut down trade and loot the northwest coast of Razzak, but every time he landed a force large enough to occupy a bit of land, they were soundly beaten by the local garrison or later, the newly arrived defenders from the interior. Razzak weapons were clearly better and their troops led by commanders who understood something of tactics. Even after it was evident that attacks by Tekashen would be turned back, the raids continued on and off for another ten years until the futility of it all finally sunk in. Once the conflict was over the kings of Tekashen concentrated on internal efforts. Shipbuilding and increasing the influence of religion in education were emphasized laying the foundation for many later achievements.
Other things were on the minds of the kings of Kiidor. They brought stability to their nation by expanding the king’s authority over both the bureaucracy and the Temple and reducing the tension between the two. And with that came the assimilation of many local gods and spirits into a less complicated whole that could unite the entire region’s people. The sound of new bronze axes chopping in the great forests signaled the increase in farmland and a more sedentary lifestyle. Small wars of expansion carried the Kiidor into the eastern mountains where they searched for copper and tin.
As the shadows of late afternoon fell across those gathered around Jonas, Sheriar knew he would have to end the recitation soon and wake him. The small crowd sensed it too and made sings of departure. A woman and her small girl were the last to leave. By her dress Sheriar took her for Cantonian whore, who having become pregnant had left some Tekashen brothel. Oddly though the woman who was not much older than Sheriar, keep looking at him and glancing away. As they turned to take the path down towards a not too distant town, the child grabber mother’s hand and said, “Aren’t you going to show him?”
Gently, as Jonas had taught him to speak to strangers, Sheriar answered. “Show me what my child?” and as the woman clutched her dress tight about her, the girl shouted, “Your necklace Momma!”
+1 treasury Oracle of Wendar from tribute
-600 infantry Liasou
-6 war canoes Liasou
-8 war canoes Gaznel
-450 infantry Gaznel
-25 chariots Gaznel
+MOI trade to Shashod
+MOI and MOS trade to Cantonia
-8 war canoes Rynt
-250 infantry Rynt
-6 war canoes Ilosilletar
-175 infantry Ilosilletar
-450 infantry Tekashen
+1 EP loot to Tekashen treasury
-375 infantry Razzak
JosefStalinator
Я буду снова здесь
Excellent update Bird! Good to see the Vissarai gain a special city; but is that an EC or an RC?
Also, does that rule about needing to spend 1 eco per King's rule apply anymore? Cause we just don't have enough eco.
Also, does that rule about needing to spend 1 eco per King's rule apply anymore? Cause we just don't have enough eco.
Abaddon
Deity
From Cantonia
To the Vissarai and the Xochicalco
Greetings! We hope our trade post does not cause offence? We will be supplying it with goods from the North an hope you will trade with us. This could be highly fortuitous for all our nations. One word of warning is to beware looking upon it with green eyes, it will be more trouble than it is worth to try to capture it.
To the Vissarai and the Xochicalco
Greetings! We hope our trade post does not cause offence? We will be supplying it with goods from the North an hope you will trade with us. This could be highly fortuitous for all our nations. One word of warning is to beware looking upon it with green eyes, it will be more trouble than it is worth to try to capture it.
~Darkening~
Weep, Mother.
OOC: I am quite pissed- I offer peace and this is what I get in return ? How long has the war with Rynt been over Bird?
? How long has the war with Rynt been over Bird?
