DNES2: War and Civilization
- Thread starter Daftpanzer
- Start date
Neverwonagame3
Self-Styled Intellectual
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2006
- Messages
- 3,549
Hi, i would like to join.
But i have two queries. Firstly, what age will i start in? Second, how flexible is this game in regards to Unique Units? Could particularly good spies or assasins be Unique Units?
But i have two queries. Firstly, what age will i start in? Second, how flexible is this game in regards to Unique Units? Could particularly good spies or assasins be Unique Units?
das
Regeneration In Process
"Who are you and where the hell are you going?!" - shouted the guard at the tent's entry demandingly, jumping up to barr the entrance.
"I am an envoy of the Bazilevs... of Prince Karlyk." - and the intimidating, broad-shouldered, caped man (uncannily similar to Aleksandyr himself, the guard had noticed) presented his signet ring. Envoys in the Agrinese Empire were not the same as messangers; unlike the latter, they had far greater power and far wider responsibilities, and more rights. The guard immediately dropped his tone, but did not move.
"Do not enter... the Bazilevs is resting, he does not want to be disturbed." - the guard said, more politely.
The envoy looked on; then he made a step forward...
"Please, don't!" - shouted the other guard, desperate as he noticed that the envoy would not budge - "Please... the Bazilevs, he is meditating, and doesn't like it when people interrupt..."
"He is dead!" - shouted the envoy loudly and impatiently, causing the guards to instinctively turn around and tremble, looking at the tent and half-expecting their Bazilevs to emerge; their hopes were never high, and thus not particularily disappointed when nothing happened - "Now cease this nonsense and let me through before I brand you as traitors!"
"But... He is resting..." - meekly said another guard.
"NONSENSE! DESIST!" - shouted the envoy and simply pushed the first guard aside with surprising strenght. He added, more calmly - "I shall investigate the tent - make sure that no others come in, no matter their excuses. Tell them that Prince Tarkantyr, the second son of the late Bazilevs Aleksandyr, does not want to be disturbed."
And entered the tent, giving the guards no more of his time.
"Nonsense..." - echoed a patrolman who was passing nearby, and apparently was eavesdropping on this "conversation" - "The Prince is right. He was dead for three days now, you fools!"
"Shut up Oth." - said the first guard, sitting down - "I know he's dead."
"Alas." - added the second guard, quietly. Aleksandyr had always inspired mixed feelings in him and in the entire army.
---
Though Prince Tarkantyr was quite loud and brave outside of the tent, and in life generally, as he came in he felt a chill travel down his spine; no wonder these fools didn't enter the tent. Yes, contrary to Tarkantyr expectations, nobody had entered it for a long time. And despite the summer heat, he kept feeling the chill of the icy breath of Death. Death ruled supreme here. Death stood, emotionless, before the maps of war-struck lands (barely visible in the dark); it still retained its human shape, and instead of a scythe there was a spear in its hand, the hand of Bazilevs Aleksandyr, the Great and the Terrible.
The Spear of Tengri, thought Tarkantyr, as he stoodied the finelly-decorated spear, I heard that it was broken... But here it is again, intact and in his hand to the end.
"A strange death." - he whispered - "And... very unfortunate." - he added, after taking a quick look at the Bazilevs' skin; no signs of poisoning, but Tarkantyr didn't really expect to find any. Still...
"Strange, unusual death. How fitting for you, father. Such a shame that you should die before my dear brother Karlyk... And in such a perilous time, too. Ah well."
Trusted physicians will later examine the body... I should order them to report to me, and to noone else; that is to say, only I should know the truth, whatever it is. Tarkantyr smirked, despite his envy he could appreciate his "dear brother"'s cynicism, the cynicism so apparent in these orders of his. Cynicism and ruthlessness. These are two-edged weapons, ofcourse...
Before leaving the tent, he carefully removed the Spear of Tengri from his father's dead hand and hid the weapon under his cape. He felt instantly drawn to it by something...
---
"Ah, greetings, greetings young Prince!" - Cheptil, the newly-appointed governor of Ulasan, giggled and at the same time prostrated his fat bulk before Tarkantyr as the Prince entered the audience room (this was something of a reversal of the usual customs here, ofcourse, but Tarkantyr was a Prince, after all) - "How goes the investigation?"
"Not too well; and alas, I have been recalled to attend to other matters. I am in a hurry right now."
"Yes-yes, ofcourse, ofcourse! But ofcourse! But, but... what did you find out?" - Cheptil sat down, excited, and still didn't stop talking for a second. Tarkantyr wasn't really in a hurry, by the way, he merely hated Cheptil more than he hated anyone or anything in the world, precisely because of his usual manner.
"Assassins. The physicians say that he was poisoned..."
"...yes-yes, but there are no traces!" - Cheptil said, even more excited, nodding wildly.
"There are some poisons that leave no marks on the skin, at least at first - to prevent detection and confuse investigators..."
"But not you!"
"Nor physician Abaabe; it is good that we have such wise men amongst us."
"Hmm, yes, yes... Abaabe is a good medic, yes! Yes! But... who was the assassin?"
"Alas we do not know; but I most definitely suspect the Baraklyds of Altynai."
"Aye, the wretches, the wretches! But the Ulaks are little better..."
"True, but, you see, the assassin - or, more probably, an accomplice of his - had pushed his luck too far. The Spear of Tengri had been stolen; the Baraklyds are notorious for stealing such relics, thinking that this will bring to them the allegience of the people..."
"Fools, wretched fools, yes! Yes..." - Cheptil suddenly looked up and quieted down - "The Spear? But, but it didn't disappear!"
"Alas it did."
Cheptil was clearly shocked; his loud, cheerful manner was gone, as was the mock-outrage; and the shock too had disappeared.
"Young Prince... It was there yesterday, after you inspected the tent... And it was under close guard day and night, as per your orders..."
"Not at all. I am not sure when exactly did the Spear disappear, but when I was in the tent, there was no Spear there."
"I had seen it yesterday, young Prince..."
Tarkantyr hated Cheptil. But some things are more important than hatred, things like justice, which Prince Tarkantyr wanted to bring about by become Bazilevs Tarkantyr I. And as Cheptil's support was vital, the fat governor had to be tolerated... That was the only reason Tarkantyr didn't take out the Spear of Tengri, didn't kill Cheptil on spot.
"Perhaps it disappeared before my arrival."
"Hmm... Yes, yes! Perhaps!" - shouted Cheptil, smiling again - and winking - "Do not worry, young Prince..." - he suddenly whispered, as excitedly as he shouted - "...I am on your side!"
"I am aware. Alas, I must hurry."
"Ofcourse, ofcourse!" - and Cheptil winked again.
---
The ride to Baralyk took several weeks, but it still was faster then the journey to Ulasan; this was chiefly thanks to the Karthians, who freed up such a convenient road, allowing Tarkantyr to link up with his brother - already crowned Bazilevs, already in command of yet another fresh army. Already awaiting his report; Bazilevs Karlyk II's impatience manifested itself immediately, Tarkantyr scarcely had any time to rest before being summoned before his brother - well, at least they met outside of the camp, not in the tent (because there are no such things as safe ears), and thus the discussion was an informal one. Not content with merely removing the ceremonials, Karlyk kept streamlining the process: "I need to finish this as fast as possible, I have a thousand other duties awaiting and the longer we stand here, the more are there chances of suspicion."
"Isn't it a bit... petty of you to meet with me here like a conspirator when you are the Bazilevs of Agre?"
"No it is not, now report!"
Tarkantyr started to report, but before he could even mention his run-in with the Ulak raiders, he was interrupted again - in a fashion highly resemblantof Aleksandyr himself: "No, not this, damnit! What happened with father?"
"He died; it was a rather strange death..."
"He kept standing for three days in the same pose, without breathing, and noone bothered to check? Really?!" - Karlyk was genuinely caught off guard by this.
"So word has reached you..."
"Rumours, brother, rumours!"
"In any case, that is true. The physicians can't say anything, not even that Abaabe of his. Some claim it to be some strange poison... but poison always leaves some marks. It was probably some illness..."
"Or divine providence."
"Don't tell me you turned religious..."
"Anything else?" - asked Karlyk II, ignoring the comment.
"Yes..." - said Tarkantyr - "The Spear of Tengri had disappeared. It was probably stolen..."
"...by Baraklyds? That is also a rumour, by the way."
"That seems the most likely - either that or some particularily bold warrior or courtier."
"Or you."
"Or me, had I cared for such relics..."
"I did order you to bring it here."
"Alas, someone had beat me to it."
"Alas, alas... But I have to hurry, to the war council."
"Should I come too?"
"No, get rest. And then... continue the investigation."
"What?! But..."
"Continue the investigation, brother. I don't care much for such relics neither, but we cannot afford to lose in any sphere, even a one so useless as the hearts and minds of the masses. We must find the Spear, we must find the scrolls... I will give you more detailed orders later. But now, rest. That is my order for now."
"I obey, brother..."
---
When Prince Tarkantyr returned to his tent, he took the Spear of Tengri from under his sleeping bag... and felt waves of outrage, outrage and pride, and also - ambition and anticipation. Sure, Karlyk could lord over him for now... but already, he was caught in his webs. Tarkantyr quickly hid the Spear, with some regret as, whenever he took it, he felt energy rush through him. Now was not the time, the Spear needed to be hid in secret - before the victory, that is.
On the next day, Bazilevs Karlyk II and a large new army once more marched to reinforce the garrisons in the ocucpied Altynai territories for the final push; a grand campaign plan was already made, and enthusiasm was at an all-time high. But already, the new Bazilevs was being threatened from amidst his own ranks...
To be continued.
"I am an envoy of the Bazilevs... of Prince Karlyk." - and the intimidating, broad-shouldered, caped man (uncannily similar to Aleksandyr himself, the guard had noticed) presented his signet ring. Envoys in the Agrinese Empire were not the same as messangers; unlike the latter, they had far greater power and far wider responsibilities, and more rights. The guard immediately dropped his tone, but did not move.
"Do not enter... the Bazilevs is resting, he does not want to be disturbed." - the guard said, more politely.
The envoy looked on; then he made a step forward...
"Please, don't!" - shouted the other guard, desperate as he noticed that the envoy would not budge - "Please... the Bazilevs, he is meditating, and doesn't like it when people interrupt..."
"He is dead!" - shouted the envoy loudly and impatiently, causing the guards to instinctively turn around and tremble, looking at the tent and half-expecting their Bazilevs to emerge; their hopes were never high, and thus not particularily disappointed when nothing happened - "Now cease this nonsense and let me through before I brand you as traitors!"
"But... He is resting..." - meekly said another guard.
"NONSENSE! DESIST!" - shouted the envoy and simply pushed the first guard aside with surprising strenght. He added, more calmly - "I shall investigate the tent - make sure that no others come in, no matter their excuses. Tell them that Prince Tarkantyr, the second son of the late Bazilevs Aleksandyr, does not want to be disturbed."
And entered the tent, giving the guards no more of his time.
"Nonsense..." - echoed a patrolman who was passing nearby, and apparently was eavesdropping on this "conversation" - "The Prince is right. He was dead for three days now, you fools!"
"Shut up Oth." - said the first guard, sitting down - "I know he's dead."
"Alas." - added the second guard, quietly. Aleksandyr had always inspired mixed feelings in him and in the entire army.
---
Though Prince Tarkantyr was quite loud and brave outside of the tent, and in life generally, as he came in he felt a chill travel down his spine; no wonder these fools didn't enter the tent. Yes, contrary to Tarkantyr expectations, nobody had entered it for a long time. And despite the summer heat, he kept feeling the chill of the icy breath of Death. Death ruled supreme here. Death stood, emotionless, before the maps of war-struck lands (barely visible in the dark); it still retained its human shape, and instead of a scythe there was a spear in its hand, the hand of Bazilevs Aleksandyr, the Great and the Terrible.
The Spear of Tengri, thought Tarkantyr, as he stoodied the finelly-decorated spear, I heard that it was broken... But here it is again, intact and in his hand to the end.
"A strange death." - he whispered - "And... very unfortunate." - he added, after taking a quick look at the Bazilevs' skin; no signs of poisoning, but Tarkantyr didn't really expect to find any. Still...
"Strange, unusual death. How fitting for you, father. Such a shame that you should die before my dear brother Karlyk... And in such a perilous time, too. Ah well."
Trusted physicians will later examine the body... I should order them to report to me, and to noone else; that is to say, only I should know the truth, whatever it is. Tarkantyr smirked, despite his envy he could appreciate his "dear brother"'s cynicism, the cynicism so apparent in these orders of his. Cynicism and ruthlessness. These are two-edged weapons, ofcourse...
Before leaving the tent, he carefully removed the Spear of Tengri from his father's dead hand and hid the weapon under his cape. He felt instantly drawn to it by something...
---
"Ah, greetings, greetings young Prince!" - Cheptil, the newly-appointed governor of Ulasan, giggled and at the same time prostrated his fat bulk before Tarkantyr as the Prince entered the audience room (this was something of a reversal of the usual customs here, ofcourse, but Tarkantyr was a Prince, after all) - "How goes the investigation?"
"Not too well; and alas, I have been recalled to attend to other matters. I am in a hurry right now."
"Yes-yes, ofcourse, ofcourse! But ofcourse! But, but... what did you find out?" - Cheptil sat down, excited, and still didn't stop talking for a second. Tarkantyr wasn't really in a hurry, by the way, he merely hated Cheptil more than he hated anyone or anything in the world, precisely because of his usual manner.
"Assassins. The physicians say that he was poisoned..."
"...yes-yes, but there are no traces!" - Cheptil said, even more excited, nodding wildly.
"There are some poisons that leave no marks on the skin, at least at first - to prevent detection and confuse investigators..."
"But not you!"
"Nor physician Abaabe; it is good that we have such wise men amongst us."
"Hmm, yes, yes... Abaabe is a good medic, yes! Yes! But... who was the assassin?"
"Alas we do not know; but I most definitely suspect the Baraklyds of Altynai."
"Aye, the wretches, the wretches! But the Ulaks are little better..."
"True, but, you see, the assassin - or, more probably, an accomplice of his - had pushed his luck too far. The Spear of Tengri had been stolen; the Baraklyds are notorious for stealing such relics, thinking that this will bring to them the allegience of the people..."
"Fools, wretched fools, yes! Yes..." - Cheptil suddenly looked up and quieted down - "The Spear? But, but it didn't disappear!"
"Alas it did."
Cheptil was clearly shocked; his loud, cheerful manner was gone, as was the mock-outrage; and the shock too had disappeared.
"Young Prince... It was there yesterday, after you inspected the tent... And it was under close guard day and night, as per your orders..."
"Not at all. I am not sure when exactly did the Spear disappear, but when I was in the tent, there was no Spear there."
"I had seen it yesterday, young Prince..."
Tarkantyr hated Cheptil. But some things are more important than hatred, things like justice, which Prince Tarkantyr wanted to bring about by become Bazilevs Tarkantyr I. And as Cheptil's support was vital, the fat governor had to be tolerated... That was the only reason Tarkantyr didn't take out the Spear of Tengri, didn't kill Cheptil on spot.
"Perhaps it disappeared before my arrival."
"Hmm... Yes, yes! Perhaps!" - shouted Cheptil, smiling again - and winking - "Do not worry, young Prince..." - he suddenly whispered, as excitedly as he shouted - "...I am on your side!"
"I am aware. Alas, I must hurry."
"Ofcourse, ofcourse!" - and Cheptil winked again.
---
The ride to Baralyk took several weeks, but it still was faster then the journey to Ulasan; this was chiefly thanks to the Karthians, who freed up such a convenient road, allowing Tarkantyr to link up with his brother - already crowned Bazilevs, already in command of yet another fresh army. Already awaiting his report; Bazilevs Karlyk II's impatience manifested itself immediately, Tarkantyr scarcely had any time to rest before being summoned before his brother - well, at least they met outside of the camp, not in the tent (because there are no such things as safe ears), and thus the discussion was an informal one. Not content with merely removing the ceremonials, Karlyk kept streamlining the process: "I need to finish this as fast as possible, I have a thousand other duties awaiting and the longer we stand here, the more are there chances of suspicion."
"Isn't it a bit... petty of you to meet with me here like a conspirator when you are the Bazilevs of Agre?"
"No it is not, now report!"
Tarkantyr started to report, but before he could even mention his run-in with the Ulak raiders, he was interrupted again - in a fashion highly resemblantof Aleksandyr himself: "No, not this, damnit! What happened with father?"
"He died; it was a rather strange death..."
"He kept standing for three days in the same pose, without breathing, and noone bothered to check? Really?!" - Karlyk was genuinely caught off guard by this.
"So word has reached you..."
"Rumours, brother, rumours!"
"In any case, that is true. The physicians can't say anything, not even that Abaabe of his. Some claim it to be some strange poison... but poison always leaves some marks. It was probably some illness..."
"Or divine providence."
"Don't tell me you turned religious..."
"Anything else?" - asked Karlyk II, ignoring the comment.
"Yes..." - said Tarkantyr - "The Spear of Tengri had disappeared. It was probably stolen..."
"...by Baraklyds? That is also a rumour, by the way."
"That seems the most likely - either that or some particularily bold warrior or courtier."
"Or you."
"Or me, had I cared for such relics..."
"I did order you to bring it here."
"Alas, someone had beat me to it."
"Alas, alas... But I have to hurry, to the war council."
"Should I come too?"
"No, get rest. And then... continue the investigation."
"What?! But..."
"Continue the investigation, brother. I don't care much for such relics neither, but we cannot afford to lose in any sphere, even a one so useless as the hearts and minds of the masses. We must find the Spear, we must find the scrolls... I will give you more detailed orders later. But now, rest. That is my order for now."
"I obey, brother..."
---
When Prince Tarkantyr returned to his tent, he took the Spear of Tengri from under his sleeping bag... and felt waves of outrage, outrage and pride, and also - ambition and anticipation. Sure, Karlyk could lord over him for now... but already, he was caught in his webs. Tarkantyr quickly hid the Spear, with some regret as, whenever he took it, he felt energy rush through him. Now was not the time, the Spear needed to be hid in secret - before the victory, that is.
On the next day, Bazilevs Karlyk II and a large new army once more marched to reinforce the garrisons in the ocucpied Altynai territories for the final push; a grand campaign plan was already made, and enthusiasm was at an all-time high. But already, the new Bazilevs was being threatened from amidst his own ranks...
To be continued.
das
Regeneration In Process
"As long as a single Ulak draws breath there can be no peace!"
- Bazilevs Kralyk II.
And more importantly I had let my guard down. Had he attacked me a turn or two earlier, he would've at least had far higher casualties.
I already signed a 5-turn NAP with Sheep, so no need for that... Could you sacrifice KrimzonStriker instead?
EDIT: Ok, Daft, I only need your reply to my present diplo, and then I'll do orders. Just relegating potential scapegoathood to you here.
KrimzonStriker
Master of the Dawn
- Joined
- Oct 3, 2005
- Messages
- 1,933
OH YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!!!!!! TELL ME YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!!! Alright, that's how you want to play it, fine!!! Your going down das, and I'll make sure Arge burns before you, and then only then I will give you the peace... of having to chose a new nation!! Bwhahahahahaha!! 
Daftpanzer
canonically ambiguous
Very nice story Das 
the plot thickens 
...
Thanks for the orders guys. Thats enough for an update as it is, and still expecting for orders from KrimzonStiker and Das. Orders from Insane_Panda would be nice too
About 20 hours left (from time of this post), though i will wait for Das's orders beyond that if need be, since i delayed his diplo response.
And thanks for the info on the chinese alphabet. I guess alex994 will make it appear in this game now
PS: if anyone wants the killer smileys for their UU, let me know
...
Hi for a brand new nation (one that you make up) it would probably be mid-ancient age start, though it could be higher if it was a more science-oriented culture etc. You could also take over any NPC nation, and start with their stats... or, cause a rebel faction to appear in any nation, and probably get most of the tech of that nation.
Im not sure if spies and assasins would work as UU's in this game, it would really have to be something that could play a part in battles too. Maybe something like the Roman 'Arcani', that were in the rome:total war game, if you ever played that (ancient style, stealthy special-ops troops )
the plot thickens ...
Thanks for the orders guys. Thats enough for an update as it is, and still expecting for orders from KrimzonStiker and Das. Orders from Insane_Panda would be nice too
About 20 hours left (from time of this post), though i will wait for Das's orders beyond that if need be, since i delayed his diplo response.
And thanks for the info on the chinese alphabet. I guess alex994 will make it appear in this game now
PS: if anyone wants the killer smileys for their UU, let me know
...
Neverwonagame2 said:
Hi
for a brand new nation (one that you make up) it would probably be mid-ancient age start, though it could be higher if it was a more science-oriented culture etc. You could also take over any NPC nation, and start with their stats... or, cause a rebel faction to appear in any nation, and probably get most of the tech of that nation.Im not sure if spies and assasins would work as UU's in this game, it would really have to be something that could play a part in battles too. Maybe something like the Roman 'Arcani', that were in the rome:total war game, if you ever played that (ancient style, stealthy special-ops troops
)
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
Hey! How come I wasn't mentioned not sending orders yet?
Daftpanzer
canonically ambiguous
Oh sorry alex, yes need your orders too I was confused because of the chinese alphabet discussion, somehow thought youd sent orders already.
I was confused because of the chinese alphabet discussion, somehow thought youd sent orders already.
Insane_Panda
Deity
I will send orders within the deadline
KrimzonStriker
Master of the Dawn
- Joined
- Oct 3, 2005
- Messages
- 1,933
Me too, working on them right now. So don't worry. Afterwards I'll write my own story. Can't let das one up me now that the gloves are off.
KrimzonStriker
Master of the Dawn
- Joined
- Oct 3, 2005
- Messages
- 1,933
Orders away daft!! I'm going to nail your coffin this time das
Neverwonagame3
Self-Styled Intellectual
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2006
- Messages
- 3,549
I'll join. Do i have time for a bit of diplomacy?
Also, i'm sorry i can't find the template.
Name: Kenbu Republic
Capital: Kenbu
Other Stats: Daftpanzer decides
U.U: Kenbu Fanatics. Lone warriors of such great strength and leadership abilities that each one has the value of a unit. (EDIT: And they're as expensive as units)
Religion: Imperialist Tarrism. The last surviving version of Tarrism, it's main principles are that those who gain a lot of glory during life become gods (the imperialist variant), has a pantheon of gods based on Kenbu and nomad heroes headed by Vasa, the conqueror of Kenbu, a responsibility of Holy War, though only towards now-extinct variants of Tarrism, and an afterlife for all those who have gained favor with at least one god.
This encourages glory-seekers, as they become gods. It also encourages people to get friendly with them, as it takes just one god to get them into the heaven-like afterlife.
Background: In Kenbu, new developments are turning it into a civilisation on Eastern European lines. A series of great leaders has allowed it to catch up to what could be considered a decent level. They are still fairly uncivilised, but their civilisation now has a distinct culture. The culmination of it's development into a civilisation was when foriegn nomads from the south attacked it.
These foriegn nomads, under the Karan family, were an oligarchy, but in order to keep their newfound prosperity they reformed Kenbu into a Republic where what the people wanted genuinely happened. After about a generation, Kenbu was safe and secure. They also introduced a new religion which is becoming popular in Kenbu.
Also, i'm sorry i can't find the template.
Name: Kenbu Republic
Capital: Kenbu
Other Stats: Daftpanzer decides
U.U: Kenbu Fanatics. Lone warriors of such great strength and leadership abilities that each one has the value of a unit. (EDIT: And they're as expensive as units)
Religion: Imperialist Tarrism. The last surviving version of Tarrism, it's main principles are that those who gain a lot of glory during life become gods (the imperialist variant), has a pantheon of gods based on Kenbu and nomad heroes headed by Vasa, the conqueror of Kenbu, a responsibility of Holy War, though only towards now-extinct variants of Tarrism, and an afterlife for all those who have gained favor with at least one god.
This encourages glory-seekers, as they become gods. It also encourages people to get friendly with them, as it takes just one god to get them into the heaven-like afterlife.
Background: In Kenbu, new developments are turning it into a civilisation on Eastern European lines. A series of great leaders has allowed it to catch up to what could be considered a decent level. They are still fairly uncivilised, but their civilisation now has a distinct culture. The culmination of it's development into a civilisation was when foriegn nomads from the south attacked it.
These foriegn nomads, under the Karan family, were an oligarchy, but in order to keep their newfound prosperity they reformed Kenbu into a Republic where what the people wanted genuinely happened. After about a generation, Kenbu was safe and secure. They also introduced a new religion which is becoming popular in Kenbu.
Neverwonagame3
Self-Styled Intellectual
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2006
- Messages
- 3,549
Since i want to get the diplomacy done before i send in orders, here it is.
From Kenbu
To Ys Leauge:We intend to annex the wood source on our island. We are willing to export it to you, what do you think?
Another matter you might be intrested in is that we are willing to hire out our army as mercenaries.
From Kenbu
To Other Neighbouring Tribes:
Our island is backward, a problem which needs to be remedied. I propose a solution- a Confederation of united tribes. As nobody has ever given our island a name, i propose we simply call it the Islander Confederation, and bank our resources in an attempt to catch up through technological advance.
-All tribes have an equal vote
-Every tribe retains control over it's own domestic affairs
-A majority of tribal leaders can override any one in their own domestic affairs
-A Defensive Alliance
-A shared foriegn policy
-More tribes can be admitted with majority consent
-No tribe can withdraw without majority consent
-If the tribal councils decide to fight a war, all tribal leaders are to aid.
-This treaty can be modified with tribal consent
To Tribes near Wood Source:
If you join the Islander Confederation, you have nothing to fear. If you do not, your land will be divided amongst other tribes to get them to join the Islander Confederation.
EDIT: Took Andis-1's advice. Thanks.
From Kenbu
To Ys Leauge:We intend to annex the wood source on our island. We are willing to export it to you, what do you think?
Another matter you might be intrested in is that we are willing to hire out our army as mercenaries.
From Kenbu
To Other Neighbouring Tribes:
Our island is backward, a problem which needs to be remedied. I propose a solution- a Confederation of united tribes. As nobody has ever given our island a name, i propose we simply call it the Islander Confederation, and bank our resources in an attempt to catch up through technological advance.
-All tribes have an equal vote
-Every tribe retains control over it's own domestic affairs
-A majority of tribal leaders can override any one in their own domestic affairs
-A Defensive Alliance
-A shared foriegn policy
-More tribes can be admitted with majority consent
-No tribe can withdraw without majority consent
-If the tribal councils decide to fight a war, all tribal leaders are to aid.
-This treaty can be modified with tribal consent
To Tribes near Wood Source:
If you join the Islander Confederation, you have nothing to fear. If you do not, your land will be divided amongst other tribes to get them to join the Islander Confederation.
EDIT: Took Andis-1's advice. Thanks.
TerrisH
Mischief?
We Are intersted in Establishing Dynastic ties between Our Royal family and your own. as Our Own Princess Helen seems to have become Smiten with your Prince Tarkantyr, Perhaphs an aranged Marriage is in order, if he is curently unmarried.
das
Regeneration In Process
"...for how much longer shall our two great empires make war upon one another? Shall our two peoples bludgeon each other to death? Shall we both fall due to being unable to see how destructive our present paths are?! Or shall we talk peace instead?" - the word "peace" looked out of place on the face of the Ulak messanger, as did the rest of the eloquent phrases he read out with a false pathos from his scroll.
"So at last you get to the point." - commented logad Terentil coldly.
"Indeed, you took a long time before saying that you came here to beg for mercy." - said Karlyk II.
The Ulak stared on, but then nodded cheerfully; clearly his knowledge of the language was not very good, either that or he wasn't a real Ulak.
"I, however, have no intentions to sign peace; for, you see, I am winning, and you are losing. I would preffer to finish you off instead."
The Ulak muttered some curses in his hoarse language, and then switched to Argosian again - "Are you sure?"
"Allow me to ponder on this..." - Karlyk II pronounced, as if doubtful, and then suddenly exclaimed - "No!"
That had the intended effect, as the court broke out in laughter and rude jokes at the Ulak's expense; this time the messanger realized that he was being insulted and reached for his sword; the hostile glances of the guards around him sobered him, however.
"We shall meet you on the battlefield then, and see who wants peace then!"
Karlyk II smirked sarcastically; this too was echoed by similar sarcastic smirks and more rude jokes. Humiliated, the messanger again reached for his sword, again looked at the guards, again remembered that fighting a horde of heavily-armed experienced men that had surrounded him would be below his dignity. Still, still he was very angry...
"If that's how it is going to be, then fine! You are all going down, and I will personally tell the Khan to make sure to burn the Agre, and only then will give some of you the peace of finding a new land to live in, for we will conquer this one and destroy it all! Muwhahaha-"
"Shut him up." - said Karlyk II, and added, when the messanger was impaled on several spears and very painfully reminded that Karlyk never did recognize his diplomatic immunity - "Well, not necessarily lethally, but it will do."
---
"A nice spectacle, brother," - Prince Tarkantyr said cautiously, but continued more confidently upon noticing that Bazilevs Karlyk II did not take offence at Tarkantyr skipping his title - "But are you really so adamant about continuing the war?"
"Why should I not be? Observe - we are winning everywhere, well, everywhere that matters. Our forces grow stronger every day, while our enemies are suffering defeat after defeat."
"The messanger did speak trully that these victories are exhausting us..."
"Not at all, brother, not at all. We are being strenghthened by this struggle; our troops are more battle-hardened than ever before, and our commanders had learned much from past mistakes. Our armies, as I had already said, are getting only stronger."
"But what of the people? They do suffer - from the raids, the taxes, the conscription..."
"Yes, yes they do." - readily agreed the Bazilevs - "The people must always suffer, for suffering strenghthens and trains them. Also, remember that the present generation will inevitably suffer so that their descendants will live in a better world after our enemies are vanquished. I had already sent out messangers through the realms to hammer the point home..."
"Very well..." - said Prince Tarkantyr, not really terribly interested in his brother's policies as long as they proved wise - "I thank you for tolerating my... scepticism, brother."
"Do not worry. I myself am sorry about how I shouted at you during your report - I was in a hurry back then. We remain brothers, and you I trust more than anyone else."
"Trully?" - Tarkantyr asked, somewhat surprised by this unexpected subject.
"Yes, yes..." - smiled Karlyk - "Oh, and by the way, the Myceneans had proposed that you marry their ruler's daughter Elen."
"Me? But why me?" - Tarkantyr was surprised by this subject as well, almost blushing.
"They said that she was smitten with you specifically" - winked Karlyk.
"Are six wifes not enough?"
"No, I am afraid not... These are dangerous times, and I may well die in battle, or from poison. And then we will need a secure bloodline."
"You do have children, brother."
"So I do, but they are young, and have largely grown up under the care of my wifes and the various teachers. I am not sure if I can trust any of them with this empire, brother."
"Do you trust me?"
"Hmph!" - smirked Karlyk - "Ofcourse I do!"
"Ofcourse you do..." - echoed Tarkantyr, somewhat dubious - not about his intentions, but rather about Karlyk's trust.
---
The rest of the evening went on in preparations for the continued march - one's day rest was probably more than they could afford, especially as they entered Baryklyd territory. Already the first reports of a major Bararklyd counterattack came in. There was no time to lose.
The march resumed at morning. Karlyk II himself, though he had grown used to seeing - and commanding - vast forces by now, was overwhelmed by the sight of the vast army marching, from one horizont to another. Infantry, cavalry, camelry, eliphantry... It was all quite breathtaking. As usual at the beginning of acampaign, Karlyk II was filled with joy, enthusiasm and euphoria; still, some of his characteristic scepticism remained. He couldn't but feel that something will go wrong...
Still, as his army made camp after several hours of march, he banished all fear, and wandered amidst the tents of his soldiers, cheering them on and often consulting common soldiers and commanders alike. Though he did not seem a naturally charismatic leader - unlike his taller and handsomer father - Karlyk II had a certain natural charm that served him particularily well when conversing with commoners and soldiers.
It served him somewhat worse with diplomats, advisers, courtiers, aristocrats, who often thought him vulgar and unrefined, but had to tolerate him, for he had the undeniably-redeeming trait of being the most powerful ruler in the world. His spymaster Tarluk had suffered the most - though himself quite paranoid, Karlyk II despised Tarluk, and often shouted him down while being offered reliable advice about the various conspiracies against him.
Thus today, when Tarluk, panting heavily, ran after Bazilevs Karlyk II (who was conversing with some archers), the Bazilevs, to the cheering of the archers, immediately shouted at him, and demanded that Tarluk immediately get to the point. When Tarluk got to the point and said that Prince Tarkantyr was preparing a conspiracy against Karlyk in order to take the throne for himself, he was shouted down again with a wide array of insults. "My most trusted brother, you bloody son of a dirty rat, is far more honourable and reliable in my eyes than you would ever be! You sneaky son of an Ulak witch and a promiscious snake, why, your insinuations have gone too far! Why, why... I will hand you over to his justice immediately!"
When Prince Tarkantyr, who was napping, was suddenly woken up and told to choose the punishment for spymaster Tarluk for his insults, he was very surprised and bewilded indeed.
---
"Thank you, sire, for rescuing me from that tyrant..." - said Tarluk - "I assure you that I remain on your side, no matter what you think!"
"I know, I know... Damn it, either Karlyk is completely and utterly naive, either he is on to us already and recognized your provocation for what it was."
"He does not seem naive to me."
"Neither did he seem so to me, until recently... Damn it. His recent behaviour might as well be one large provocation."
"So you think he knows that I am on your side?" - asked Tarluk, rubbing one of his wounds (Tarkantyr couldn't realistically let him go unpunished without arousing some suspicion, and though he had saved Tarluk from death or mutilation, he still had to have him whipped).
"I do not known anything!" - Tarkantyr nearly shouted, completely exasporated by his brother's confusing behaviour - "He is either very stupid, either devilishly smart, or maybe he isn't neither and it all just seems to me..."
"No need to be so desperate..." - suggested Tarluk.
"Indeed." - Tarkantyr suddenly brightened up - "Indeed. Can you walk now?"
"Yes, yes I could ofcourse."
"Excellent. For, you see, without letting this go on for much longer and increasing the risks of discovery, I intend to strike now, on this very night."
"Yes?" - Tarluk jumped up, surprised - "Really? Already?"
"Indeed. While you were recovering, I and the others have been preparing. He is in his tent right now, but he is awake, consulting with General Herakl, who is on our side, as are some others - noblemen, officers, advisors... We shall simply rush in, overwhelm the guards and kill him - the rest will have no choice but to join us then. Not that he has much trully fanatical support..."
"He does - amongst some of the rabble."
"The rabble dislike the war. If we tell them that their hero prolonged it, they will only cheer us as their saviours, especially when we sign peace. Do not worry - our agents had already contacted the Altynai, and they are trully desperate to save their hides. The Ulaks aren't as desperate, but will also be only glad to find a way out of this quagmire, especially when their allies desert them."
"Splendid, splendid, young Prince... You trully will make a great Bazilevs."
"With your help, I hope so." - smiled Tarkantyr - "In any case, it is almost the time now..."
A messanger rushed into Prince Tarkantyr's tent; even before he spoke a word, Tarkantyr already knew his message...
"It is on now!" - he exclaimed, leaving the messanger to nod and stand aside, frightened, as Tarkantyr grabbed the Spear of Tengri and rushed out of the tent into the night "streets" of the camp "city".
---
From all over the camp, from the various tents, men in hoods or armour suits rushed out, with daggers, swords and spears in right hands, and torches in the left ones - from bird's-eye view, a sudden dance of torch lights in the night camp could be observed. The lights flew about in apparent chaos - and yet, a careful observer could soon see that they were all running in the same direction, towards the great gold tent of the Bazilevs himself.
Prince Tarkantyr's tent was purposedly placed quite far from that of the Bazilevs, and so by the time he and Tarluk had arrived, a large mob of nobles and soldiers had assembled before the tent, all excited, some slightly worried, a few others ecstasic. Tarluk instinctively joined that mob; Tarkantyr staid out.
He used to have some doubts, some worries, some caution - all of that was no more. The ultimate target was close, very close, only a few minutes remained before victory, and so, urged on by the Spear of Tengri, the Prince, who at first seemed perfectly calm unlike his co-conspirators, suddenly bellowed out, not caring at all that the entire camp will see: "Comrades! The victory is near, the tyrant's reign is about to end! Soon, he himself shall be no more; his vile oppression overthrown! Know that he had poisoned his own father to get the throne!" - here he improvised, this was not pre-agreed upon, the official version was still that the Baraklyds were to blame, but those before him now immediately accepted it, and some muttered quietly: "genius!", for indeed the move was quite genial - if peace was to be made with the Baraklyds, someone else had to be the scapegoat.
"Know also that he shall now be brought to justice, and that I, as per my father's death will," - another brilliant improvisation - "shall take the throne. I promise you all that your deeds today shall not be forgotten by me or by the grateful people of the Agrinese Empire. Comrades! Into the tent, and off with his head!"
His shouts were echoed by the night and by his allies, and they charged in, filled with fury and determination.
Rather anticlimatically, the tent itself was empty. The furs, the sleeping bag, the improvised "war throne", the decorations, the maps - they were all here. But it was completely empty of people. There were no guards, no General Herakl, no Bazilevs Karlyk II...
Dazzled, the conspirators spread through the tent; internally mad, in both meanings of the word, Tarkantyr stood at the entrance, his mouth wide-open, the Spear of Tengri falling out of his hand. He stared, and stared, looked around blankly, as if his brother was playing hide-and-seek with him. He was silent, and shocked, and ignored the whispers and words around him, even the mutters that they were doomed, that this was folly, that they should never have followed him here...
"Wait!" - someone shouted, suddenly bringing Tarkantyr back to reality. It was Tarluk, he was looking in shock and pure fear at the entrance, or rather at what was beyond the entrance.
Tarkantyr turned around and cursed. The tent was surrounded by soldiers in full battle-readiness; there were several hundreds here, and at their head was General Herakl, huge and booming, laughing and smug, for he had caught them all like petty thieves.
Only, it was not he that caught them. Bazilevs Karlyk II himself rode into the view, with only a few soldiers between himself and Tarkantyr. He was not smug; he looked at them all with a calm arrogance, and the conspirators looked back, only to look away in shame and fear.
Suddenly it became painfully clear to Prince Tarkantyr how similar this situation was to that of the Ulak messanger. They were surrounded, in that very same tent, and at the mercy of Bazilevs Karlyk II, who - ever the actor - now looked down upon them from his horse, looked down with disdain and contempt, and preparing his monologue.
"Think not that I am outraged." - Karlyk II, clearly outraged, declared - "Or that this has been a surprise. Alas, you have been painfully, disgustingly predictable, especially you, my brother - that you should try and overthrow me was sickeningly obvious from the very start."
"None of you betrayed my trust, for you had never had it." - he went on, with iron in his voice - "Still," - he continued, with a sudden leniency - "you, Tarkantyr, are my brother, and the rest of you had served me well in your positions. I am disposed to forgive you this once..."
A collective sigh of relief was heard, coming even from Tarkantyr, despite the arrogance and hunger for power that the Spear had fed in him. Perhaps, perhaps they could yet live... start anew... and never, never ever subject themselves to conspiracy, and much less - to Karlyk II's theatric verbal torture!
For it was indeed theatric verbal torture that continued now.
"...but then I remember that mercy is for those weak - weak not as much of body as of mind and spirit. I shall never be merciful - or trustful - to my enemies, whether internal or external, for mercy and trust invite revenge and treason. You are unworthy of mercy or trust; I may still have, how ever grudging, respect for some of you, but none of you shall be forgiven. I will now save the Agrinese Empire." - he declared, and the soldiers went into position... - "Stop!" - he suddenly barked out, and the archers lowered their bows.
"Brother Tarkantyr, witness what I was talking about two days ago. I had mentioned that suffering strenghthens a people. Expanding on that thought, I believe I could also add that war is a pyre, through which we must all go through; a fiery test that will purify our people. The Agrinese Empire will emerge only stronger from all the enemy attacks and treasonous conspiracies such as this. It shall be purified, purified by... FIRE!" - he shouted out the command, and a thousand fire arrows flew into his own tent, and a thousand more, and more, and as the conspirators tried to get out, they were stopped by shields or impaled by swords and spears. Karlyk II watched on impassively as conspirators died in the flames or in the attempts to vacate them...
Some of the conspirators, led by Prince Tarkantyr himself, suddenly broke through the ring of soldiers at one point, charging out of the fiery ring of death, desperate to get out, madness and fright in their eyes... except for the eyes of Prince Tarkantyr, where there was perfectly-controlled fury. He rushed towards Karlyk II's horse, spear in hand...
The Spear made Karlyk II snap out of this self-imposed stupor. The Spear of Tengri... a relic, and a fairly good weapon... Even as Tarkantyr threatened him with it, the Spear itself almost begged Karlyk II to take it as well - after all, he was the Bazilevs, and also the Khanal, and this Spear was part of the Altynian regalia... Yes, ofcourse, it rightfully belonged to him - not to this pathetic traitor.
The pathetic traitor struck at Karlyk II, trying to spear him... yet his hands shook, and Karlyk II grabbed the Spear... Tarkantyr tried to free it, he held on to it with all his strenght, but Karlyk II shouted and his horse legged Tarkantyr. Losing his balance, the Prince still refused to let go of the Spear, still struggled for it, struggled neither for life or power - but for the Spear (he had lost everything else), and yet lost even that final battle. Pulling the Spear mightily, the Bazilevs broke his brother's dead grasp and turned it around, but did not finish Tarkantyr off.
The Prince was already dead, the fires were receding, the last of the traitors have been slaughtered. Far away, roosters were crowing, and the sun was rising. The Spear of Tengri was in Bazilevs Karlyk II's hand and the army was ready to march on...
To be continued.
OOC: Play the Imperial March.
"So at last you get to the point." - commented logad Terentil coldly.
"Indeed, you took a long time before saying that you came here to beg for mercy." - said Karlyk II.
The Ulak stared on, but then nodded cheerfully; clearly his knowledge of the language was not very good, either that or he wasn't a real Ulak.
"I, however, have no intentions to sign peace; for, you see, I am winning, and you are losing. I would preffer to finish you off instead."
The Ulak muttered some curses in his hoarse language, and then switched to Argosian again - "Are you sure?"
"Allow me to ponder on this..." - Karlyk II pronounced, as if doubtful, and then suddenly exclaimed - "No!"
That had the intended effect, as the court broke out in laughter and rude jokes at the Ulak's expense; this time the messanger realized that he was being insulted and reached for his sword; the hostile glances of the guards around him sobered him, however.
"We shall meet you on the battlefield then, and see who wants peace then!"
Karlyk II smirked sarcastically; this too was echoed by similar sarcastic smirks and more rude jokes. Humiliated, the messanger again reached for his sword, again looked at the guards, again remembered that fighting a horde of heavily-armed experienced men that had surrounded him would be below his dignity. Still, still he was very angry...
"If that's how it is going to be, then fine! You are all going down, and I will personally tell the Khan to make sure to burn the Agre, and only then will give some of you the peace of finding a new land to live in, for we will conquer this one and destroy it all! Muwhahaha-"
"Shut him up." - said Karlyk II, and added, when the messanger was impaled on several spears and very painfully reminded that Karlyk never did recognize his diplomatic immunity - "Well, not necessarily lethally, but it will do."
---
"A nice spectacle, brother," - Prince Tarkantyr said cautiously, but continued more confidently upon noticing that Bazilevs Karlyk II did not take offence at Tarkantyr skipping his title - "But are you really so adamant about continuing the war?"
"Why should I not be? Observe - we are winning everywhere, well, everywhere that matters. Our forces grow stronger every day, while our enemies are suffering defeat after defeat."
"The messanger did speak trully that these victories are exhausting us..."
"Not at all, brother, not at all. We are being strenghthened by this struggle; our troops are more battle-hardened than ever before, and our commanders had learned much from past mistakes. Our armies, as I had already said, are getting only stronger."
"But what of the people? They do suffer - from the raids, the taxes, the conscription..."
"Yes, yes they do." - readily agreed the Bazilevs - "The people must always suffer, for suffering strenghthens and trains them. Also, remember that the present generation will inevitably suffer so that their descendants will live in a better world after our enemies are vanquished. I had already sent out messangers through the realms to hammer the point home..."
"Very well..." - said Prince Tarkantyr, not really terribly interested in his brother's policies as long as they proved wise - "I thank you for tolerating my... scepticism, brother."
"Do not worry. I myself am sorry about how I shouted at you during your report - I was in a hurry back then. We remain brothers, and you I trust more than anyone else."
"Trully?" - Tarkantyr asked, somewhat surprised by this unexpected subject.
"Yes, yes..." - smiled Karlyk - "Oh, and by the way, the Myceneans had proposed that you marry their ruler's daughter Elen."
"Me? But why me?" - Tarkantyr was surprised by this subject as well, almost blushing.
"They said that she was smitten with you specifically" - winked Karlyk.
"Are six wifes not enough?"
"No, I am afraid not... These are dangerous times, and I may well die in battle, or from poison. And then we will need a secure bloodline."
"You do have children, brother."
"So I do, but they are young, and have largely grown up under the care of my wifes and the various teachers. I am not sure if I can trust any of them with this empire, brother."
"Do you trust me?"
"Hmph!" - smirked Karlyk - "Ofcourse I do!"
"Ofcourse you do..." - echoed Tarkantyr, somewhat dubious - not about his intentions, but rather about Karlyk's trust.
---
The rest of the evening went on in preparations for the continued march - one's day rest was probably more than they could afford, especially as they entered Baryklyd territory. Already the first reports of a major Bararklyd counterattack came in. There was no time to lose.
The march resumed at morning. Karlyk II himself, though he had grown used to seeing - and commanding - vast forces by now, was overwhelmed by the sight of the vast army marching, from one horizont to another. Infantry, cavalry, camelry, eliphantry... It was all quite breathtaking. As usual at the beginning of acampaign, Karlyk II was filled with joy, enthusiasm and euphoria; still, some of his characteristic scepticism remained. He couldn't but feel that something will go wrong...
Still, as his army made camp after several hours of march, he banished all fear, and wandered amidst the tents of his soldiers, cheering them on and often consulting common soldiers and commanders alike. Though he did not seem a naturally charismatic leader - unlike his taller and handsomer father - Karlyk II had a certain natural charm that served him particularily well when conversing with commoners and soldiers.
It served him somewhat worse with diplomats, advisers, courtiers, aristocrats, who often thought him vulgar and unrefined, but had to tolerate him, for he had the undeniably-redeeming trait of being the most powerful ruler in the world. His spymaster Tarluk had suffered the most - though himself quite paranoid, Karlyk II despised Tarluk, and often shouted him down while being offered reliable advice about the various conspiracies against him.
Thus today, when Tarluk, panting heavily, ran after Bazilevs Karlyk II (who was conversing with some archers), the Bazilevs, to the cheering of the archers, immediately shouted at him, and demanded that Tarluk immediately get to the point. When Tarluk got to the point and said that Prince Tarkantyr was preparing a conspiracy against Karlyk in order to take the throne for himself, he was shouted down again with a wide array of insults. "My most trusted brother, you bloody son of a dirty rat, is far more honourable and reliable in my eyes than you would ever be! You sneaky son of an Ulak witch and a promiscious snake, why, your insinuations have gone too far! Why, why... I will hand you over to his justice immediately!"
When Prince Tarkantyr, who was napping, was suddenly woken up and told to choose the punishment for spymaster Tarluk for his insults, he was very surprised and bewilded indeed.
---
"Thank you, sire, for rescuing me from that tyrant..." - said Tarluk - "I assure you that I remain on your side, no matter what you think!"
"I know, I know... Damn it, either Karlyk is completely and utterly naive, either he is on to us already and recognized your provocation for what it was."
"He does not seem naive to me."
"Neither did he seem so to me, until recently... Damn it. His recent behaviour might as well be one large provocation."
"So you think he knows that I am on your side?" - asked Tarluk, rubbing one of his wounds (Tarkantyr couldn't realistically let him go unpunished without arousing some suspicion, and though he had saved Tarluk from death or mutilation, he still had to have him whipped).
"I do not known anything!" - Tarkantyr nearly shouted, completely exasporated by his brother's confusing behaviour - "He is either very stupid, either devilishly smart, or maybe he isn't neither and it all just seems to me..."
"No need to be so desperate..." - suggested Tarluk.
"Indeed." - Tarkantyr suddenly brightened up - "Indeed. Can you walk now?"
"Yes, yes I could ofcourse."
"Excellent. For, you see, without letting this go on for much longer and increasing the risks of discovery, I intend to strike now, on this very night."
"Yes?" - Tarluk jumped up, surprised - "Really? Already?"
"Indeed. While you were recovering, I and the others have been preparing. He is in his tent right now, but he is awake, consulting with General Herakl, who is on our side, as are some others - noblemen, officers, advisors... We shall simply rush in, overwhelm the guards and kill him - the rest will have no choice but to join us then. Not that he has much trully fanatical support..."
"He does - amongst some of the rabble."
"The rabble dislike the war. If we tell them that their hero prolonged it, they will only cheer us as their saviours, especially when we sign peace. Do not worry - our agents had already contacted the Altynai, and they are trully desperate to save their hides. The Ulaks aren't as desperate, but will also be only glad to find a way out of this quagmire, especially when their allies desert them."
"Splendid, splendid, young Prince... You trully will make a great Bazilevs."
"With your help, I hope so." - smiled Tarkantyr - "In any case, it is almost the time now..."
A messanger rushed into Prince Tarkantyr's tent; even before he spoke a word, Tarkantyr already knew his message...
"It is on now!" - he exclaimed, leaving the messanger to nod and stand aside, frightened, as Tarkantyr grabbed the Spear of Tengri and rushed out of the tent into the night "streets" of the camp "city".
---
From all over the camp, from the various tents, men in hoods or armour suits rushed out, with daggers, swords and spears in right hands, and torches in the left ones - from bird's-eye view, a sudden dance of torch lights in the night camp could be observed. The lights flew about in apparent chaos - and yet, a careful observer could soon see that they were all running in the same direction, towards the great gold tent of the Bazilevs himself.
Prince Tarkantyr's tent was purposedly placed quite far from that of the Bazilevs, and so by the time he and Tarluk had arrived, a large mob of nobles and soldiers had assembled before the tent, all excited, some slightly worried, a few others ecstasic. Tarluk instinctively joined that mob; Tarkantyr staid out.
He used to have some doubts, some worries, some caution - all of that was no more. The ultimate target was close, very close, only a few minutes remained before victory, and so, urged on by the Spear of Tengri, the Prince, who at first seemed perfectly calm unlike his co-conspirators, suddenly bellowed out, not caring at all that the entire camp will see: "Comrades! The victory is near, the tyrant's reign is about to end! Soon, he himself shall be no more; his vile oppression overthrown! Know that he had poisoned his own father to get the throne!" - here he improvised, this was not pre-agreed upon, the official version was still that the Baraklyds were to blame, but those before him now immediately accepted it, and some muttered quietly: "genius!", for indeed the move was quite genial - if peace was to be made with the Baraklyds, someone else had to be the scapegoat.
"Know also that he shall now be brought to justice, and that I, as per my father's death will," - another brilliant improvisation - "shall take the throne. I promise you all that your deeds today shall not be forgotten by me or by the grateful people of the Agrinese Empire. Comrades! Into the tent, and off with his head!"
His shouts were echoed by the night and by his allies, and they charged in, filled with fury and determination.
Rather anticlimatically, the tent itself was empty. The furs, the sleeping bag, the improvised "war throne", the decorations, the maps - they were all here. But it was completely empty of people. There were no guards, no General Herakl, no Bazilevs Karlyk II...
Dazzled, the conspirators spread through the tent; internally mad, in both meanings of the word, Tarkantyr stood at the entrance, his mouth wide-open, the Spear of Tengri falling out of his hand. He stared, and stared, looked around blankly, as if his brother was playing hide-and-seek with him. He was silent, and shocked, and ignored the whispers and words around him, even the mutters that they were doomed, that this was folly, that they should never have followed him here...
"Wait!" - someone shouted, suddenly bringing Tarkantyr back to reality. It was Tarluk, he was looking in shock and pure fear at the entrance, or rather at what was beyond the entrance.
Tarkantyr turned around and cursed. The tent was surrounded by soldiers in full battle-readiness; there were several hundreds here, and at their head was General Herakl, huge and booming, laughing and smug, for he had caught them all like petty thieves.
Only, it was not he that caught them. Bazilevs Karlyk II himself rode into the view, with only a few soldiers between himself and Tarkantyr. He was not smug; he looked at them all with a calm arrogance, and the conspirators looked back, only to look away in shame and fear.
Suddenly it became painfully clear to Prince Tarkantyr how similar this situation was to that of the Ulak messanger. They were surrounded, in that very same tent, and at the mercy of Bazilevs Karlyk II, who - ever the actor - now looked down upon them from his horse, looked down with disdain and contempt, and preparing his monologue.
"Think not that I am outraged." - Karlyk II, clearly outraged, declared - "Or that this has been a surprise. Alas, you have been painfully, disgustingly predictable, especially you, my brother - that you should try and overthrow me was sickeningly obvious from the very start."
"None of you betrayed my trust, for you had never had it." - he went on, with iron in his voice - "Still," - he continued, with a sudden leniency - "you, Tarkantyr, are my brother, and the rest of you had served me well in your positions. I am disposed to forgive you this once..."
A collective sigh of relief was heard, coming even from Tarkantyr, despite the arrogance and hunger for power that the Spear had fed in him. Perhaps, perhaps they could yet live... start anew... and never, never ever subject themselves to conspiracy, and much less - to Karlyk II's theatric verbal torture!
For it was indeed theatric verbal torture that continued now.
"...but then I remember that mercy is for those weak - weak not as much of body as of mind and spirit. I shall never be merciful - or trustful - to my enemies, whether internal or external, for mercy and trust invite revenge and treason. You are unworthy of mercy or trust; I may still have, how ever grudging, respect for some of you, but none of you shall be forgiven. I will now save the Agrinese Empire." - he declared, and the soldiers went into position... - "Stop!" - he suddenly barked out, and the archers lowered their bows.
"Brother Tarkantyr, witness what I was talking about two days ago. I had mentioned that suffering strenghthens a people. Expanding on that thought, I believe I could also add that war is a pyre, through which we must all go through; a fiery test that will purify our people. The Agrinese Empire will emerge only stronger from all the enemy attacks and treasonous conspiracies such as this. It shall be purified, purified by... FIRE!" - he shouted out the command, and a thousand fire arrows flew into his own tent, and a thousand more, and more, and as the conspirators tried to get out, they were stopped by shields or impaled by swords and spears. Karlyk II watched on impassively as conspirators died in the flames or in the attempts to vacate them...
Some of the conspirators, led by Prince Tarkantyr himself, suddenly broke through the ring of soldiers at one point, charging out of the fiery ring of death, desperate to get out, madness and fright in their eyes... except for the eyes of Prince Tarkantyr, where there was perfectly-controlled fury. He rushed towards Karlyk II's horse, spear in hand...
The Spear made Karlyk II snap out of this self-imposed stupor. The Spear of Tengri... a relic, and a fairly good weapon... Even as Tarkantyr threatened him with it, the Spear itself almost begged Karlyk II to take it as well - after all, he was the Bazilevs, and also the Khanal, and this Spear was part of the Altynian regalia... Yes, ofcourse, it rightfully belonged to him - not to this pathetic traitor.
The pathetic traitor struck at Karlyk II, trying to spear him... yet his hands shook, and Karlyk II grabbed the Spear... Tarkantyr tried to free it, he held on to it with all his strenght, but Karlyk II shouted and his horse legged Tarkantyr. Losing his balance, the Prince still refused to let go of the Spear, still struggled for it, struggled neither for life or power - but for the Spear (he had lost everything else), and yet lost even that final battle. Pulling the Spear mightily, the Bazilevs broke his brother's dead grasp and turned it around, but did not finish Tarkantyr off.
The Prince was already dead, the fires were receding, the last of the traitors have been slaughtered. Far away, roosters were crowing, and the sun was rising. The Spear of Tengri was in Bazilevs Karlyk II's hand and the army was ready to march on...
To be continued.
OOC: Play the Imperial March.
jalapeno_dude
AKA Panda Judo Eel
Orders sent!
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
*sniff* I kinda liked Tarkantyr, a pity he had to die. 
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
I was once a monk of Oru. I am one no longer. I was expelled, and exiled for my lack of faith in the Oru beliefs. What faith I had was shattered and expunged from me as the armies of Ormash swept into our nation. What good is faith when one’s nation has been overrun and upon the verge of defeat? As our armies fell one by one against the might of Ormash, I realized the grave peril of my faith. We, in preaching our religion and in bringing knowledge to the peoples through faith abandoned our original goals. We turned from being the shepherds of souls, to rulers of a nation.
I abandoned my former comrades and wandered the earth. From the clashing of the armies of the Agrinese and Ulakam to the libraries of Pangari I wandered. The harsh life of an Agrinese peasant was not my thing, forever toiling in labor with no hope or glistening light in the future, it was not a pleasant life. They had no faith, and only looked forward to a filling meal. A boring and harsh life that religion could serve and aid in bringing peace of the soul yet it was not for be.
Yaktan, the land of the Horse Lords where one can always smell horses. It was constant, always there, one is unable to cast it off. A land of nobility and aristocracy, the people, the commoners suffered. For the Horse Lords in the persona of their powerful Brutes were expensive beyond all beliefs. It takes much money to feed a horse, a horse after all eats more then a man. And all in all, it is much harder to train a cavalrymen then an infantrymen. That is what the money of Yaktan is poured into, the army and military with no benefits of the people. I continued on moving across the border.
Taejon is the land of the Emperors in glory unbroken since the dawn of time. A land of culture, sophistication and wealth, it was a nation of peace. A nation of merchants, craftsmen and farmers, it is fertile ground for a new religion to prosper. A land of learning yet not one of obsession, a land of fine foods and tastes. A strong monarchy reigned with a strong bureaucracy. A land of strict rules and laws, a land hardly of freedom. Yet it was free, for the Emperors up high cared little for speech of the common folk as long as his quiet was not disturbed. I continued onward to Pangari.
Pangari, land of the sole Republic upon this Earth is forever a land of wonder and mystery. Reigning since her beginning, a trio of great men have ruled passing on as their time came and went. Yet always, it was three men and I felt that in Pangari not all was right. I had this feeling that the Great Heavens, the Great God, the Tao was telling me something. Men cannot be immortal, ideas eventually die in time. Yet, for hundreds of year, a stable republic fanatical towards knowledge had been at peace. Very disturbing, I did not it. They did not seem like men, and always visions of black and white creatures followed me. I longed for the peace and quiet of Taejon, and so I returned.
Peace and quiet as always in Taejon, I came to love this land. A land of little worries, of peace, quiet and contemplation and after 15 years of endless wandering, I settled here. I built myself a small hut and farmed living my life in isolation. My neighbors, Taejon peasants let me be wondering and yet fearing who I was. And living in that peaceful land, I came to understanding of who I was. I am the last of the True Oru, for all others have fallen in battle against one’s self. Yet I still live, and one day, I began to preach.
To Preach of the Tao, the One God, and his benevolence and mercy. That is what I preached, of life eternal after death. For there is no true death, death is only the gateway to new life. For in one’s death, one returns to the Great Wheel of Life, where his deeds are considered and determined. A virtuous righteous life will allow one’s soul to return as a human while a sinful one would return as insects. And when a soul has come to grasp, over many a cycle of reincarnation, they shall go to heaven pure once more as had they had come to the world.
I spoke of balance on this earth, that to reach enlightenment one must come to grief with their past, and all their sins. And that upon confessing and apologizing from the depths of their hearts and receiving penance, their sins would be washed and diminished, reducing the time one must return to the Great Wheel again and again. And so began, the Way of the Tao. There is no God but one, and his name is Tao.
I abandoned my former comrades and wandered the earth. From the clashing of the armies of the Agrinese and Ulakam to the libraries of Pangari I wandered. The harsh life of an Agrinese peasant was not my thing, forever toiling in labor with no hope or glistening light in the future, it was not a pleasant life. They had no faith, and only looked forward to a filling meal. A boring and harsh life that religion could serve and aid in bringing peace of the soul yet it was not for be.
Yaktan, the land of the Horse Lords where one can always smell horses. It was constant, always there, one is unable to cast it off. A land of nobility and aristocracy, the people, the commoners suffered. For the Horse Lords in the persona of their powerful Brutes were expensive beyond all beliefs. It takes much money to feed a horse, a horse after all eats more then a man. And all in all, it is much harder to train a cavalrymen then an infantrymen. That is what the money of Yaktan is poured into, the army and military with no benefits of the people. I continued on moving across the border.
Taejon is the land of the Emperors in glory unbroken since the dawn of time. A land of culture, sophistication and wealth, it was a nation of peace. A nation of merchants, craftsmen and farmers, it is fertile ground for a new religion to prosper. A land of learning yet not one of obsession, a land of fine foods and tastes. A strong monarchy reigned with a strong bureaucracy. A land of strict rules and laws, a land hardly of freedom. Yet it was free, for the Emperors up high cared little for speech of the common folk as long as his quiet was not disturbed. I continued onward to Pangari.
Pangari, land of the sole Republic upon this Earth is forever a land of wonder and mystery. Reigning since her beginning, a trio of great men have ruled passing on as their time came and went. Yet always, it was three men and I felt that in Pangari not all was right. I had this feeling that the Great Heavens, the Great God, the Tao was telling me something. Men cannot be immortal, ideas eventually die in time. Yet, for hundreds of year, a stable republic fanatical towards knowledge had been at peace. Very disturbing, I did not it. They did not seem like men, and always visions of black and white creatures followed me. I longed for the peace and quiet of Taejon, and so I returned.
Peace and quiet as always in Taejon, I came to love this land. A land of little worries, of peace, quiet and contemplation and after 15 years of endless wandering, I settled here. I built myself a small hut and farmed living my life in isolation. My neighbors, Taejon peasants let me be wondering and yet fearing who I was. And living in that peaceful land, I came to understanding of who I was. I am the last of the True Oru, for all others have fallen in battle against one’s self. Yet I still live, and one day, I began to preach.
To Preach of the Tao, the One God, and his benevolence and mercy. That is what I preached, of life eternal after death. For there is no true death, death is only the gateway to new life. For in one’s death, one returns to the Great Wheel of Life, where his deeds are considered and determined. A virtuous righteous life will allow one’s soul to return as a human while a sinful one would return as insects. And when a soul has come to grasp, over many a cycle of reincarnation, they shall go to heaven pure once more as had they had come to the world.
I spoke of balance on this earth, that to reach enlightenment one must come to grief with their past, and all their sins. And that upon confessing and apologizing from the depths of their hearts and receiving penance, their sins would be washed and diminished, reducing the time one must return to the Great Wheel again and again. And so began, the Way of the Tao. There is no God but one, and his name is Tao.
Similar threads
