ITNES I - An Epoch of Change
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- Start date
Sheep
Orange Shrooms!
To Parhae
From Aryavata
We propose a comprehensive trade treaty and a non-aggression pact pending further negotiations.
To Sri Dukkyegen
From Aryavata
The only reason why I would of attacked someone is because of something they did before. Luckily I caught some prisoners and interrogated them and they all pointed towards yourself.
From Aryavata
We propose a comprehensive trade treaty and a non-aggression pact pending further negotiations.
To Sri Dukkyegen
From Aryavata
The only reason why I would of attacked someone is because of something they did before. Luckily I caught some prisoners and interrogated them and they all pointed towards yourself.
MjM
Deity
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
From Sri Dukunnugeya
To Aryavarta
We have no idea what you are talking about. We have only wished for peace between our great nations, and have proposed such again and again.
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
Gah its getting late, I'll put the rest of this story up tomorrow...
Extracts from “The Virtues of Rammakitti”
…and thus his task was done in the valley of the seven trees.
And thus did Rammakitti, bright of smile and swift of deed, call his five and seventy lancers to him, and once more rode to the Gyekadaaha’s imperative.
Ride they did, for seven days, across the brown rivers of the stilt-house people, numerous and humble, and across the open spaces of warriors of the red stripe, few and proud.
On the eighth day Rammakitti and his lancers came to the valley of the golden rock.
There they did stay at the house of Ratwatte, the generous host, resting in the deep shade of his trees, and partaking of his most excellent fruit.
Whilst his men practiced their skill in bow and blade, and indulged in all manner of games of chance, Rammakitti did seek council with Ratwatte, wishing foreknowledge of what awaited up the valley.
Gyekadaaha Bandaranaike, far of vision and deep of memory, had bid Rammakitti seek King Baka, He Whose Hands Crush Skulls, Giant of the North and Lord of the Black Men of the Golden Valley.
This was so that the dark colossus and his men might aid the Lords of the Southern Kingdom in their war against the men of dust.
Ratwatte’s news was like a mourning bell to this bold plan, for the noble King Baka had passed on, suddenly as an old warrior might, whilst hunting lion on the plains three days north of Kalopiambezi, his fall breaking the earth, his great corpse taking six men and six days to carry back to his hall.
In his stead his three sons ruled, each their fathers equal in stature, but all three together could not match his nobility or wisdom, inclined to bickering and pettiness.
Rammakitti, calm of mind and dark of eye, did consider this awhile whilst his men renewed themselves, and when he rode on to King Baka’s hall he did with the smile of a cunning plan on his face.
His loyal captains; Vijaya, he of the four bows, and Kumaratunga, he of the dancing sword, rode out on other deeds.
Rammakitti drew up outside the Dead Giants Hall, crude of material but graceful of form, and admired its carvings as described in the tale of Bandaranaike the Weaver of Snakes, who was friend and foe and friend again to the King of the Golden Valley.
As the sun rolled towards its destination, Rammakitti and the ten of his lancers that did accompany him, loosed five notes of sorrow on their red horns, and caused the hall to buzz like a kicked hive.
From the great door tumbled five and forty men, warriors of the Black lands, but ill attired and slovenly, the war paint that had graced the bodies of the proud Gokomere and the steadfast Mwenes in the siege of the Seven Walled city was here misapplied and sloppy, their blades rusty and battered.
Behind them stood their masters, befuddled as if from drink or meal, the three sons of the Giant, each equal to the height of Rammakitti as he sat on his horse, and each muscled enough to lift an Ox.
The youngest of the three did bellow at the still horsemen, “Why do you disturb our revels with you song of sorrow?” The second, “Who are you to wear naked blades in the lands of where we rule” The third said nothing and showed his teeth in a manner not dissimilar to that of a lion.
Rammakitti replied with a voice level and carrying, as the last glints of sunlight slipped down over the western wall of the valley, “We merely do honour and respect to your dead father, my noble Princes, for news of his passing is but fresh to my ears.
As too who I am, I am an agent of the King of the Eastern sea, and these are my ten doughty Ekadaahalokumiiyaa in his service.”
Replied the second, “King Baka is dead and buried these past four years, we now rule his lands, begonst agent of a pisspot king!”
Replied the first, the fool, “Yeah!”
The third did not reply, but merely stared.
Rammakitti did bend his face into a frown of displeasure,
“Do you forget the years of the red rains, and the year of the locust not ten past when the Southern kingdom did send you wagonloads of good and pure grain least you starve?
Do you not forget when the Ndlo swept over your valley and the lands of the Mwenes, the Kingdom sent five score of its young warriors to your aid and their deaths?
Do you not forget when your Father, whose voice shattered ears, did swear bonds of eternal friendship with the Gyekadaaha of Kandy after they broke the back of the blue army of the west?
Do you forget all that your father was and did?”
Replied the second “We do, this is a new time, this is our time…his law is broken!”
Rammakitti smiled his white smile of victory, and nodded to each of the brother in turn, “How then do you rule? If his law is broken, what gives you the right?”
The first two brothers laughed at this, and even the third, whose silence had been complete, widened his lion-smile,
“Our might of arms of course, what man would darn stand against us?”
Rammakitti nodded, and one of his lancers let loose a note on his red horn, and it was suddenly as if the black and craven hall was plunged into the centre of a great blaze, like a fresh log into a campfire.
When the eyes of the men, noble and foul alike, adjusted to the light they saw that the scheme of Rammakitti, like some many of his before, had been pulled off.
For there stood Vijaya and Kumaratunga, and three score more of Rammakitti’s proud lancers, the darkness and the bellowing of the brothers three having hidden their approach.
With them stood four hundreds of men, old warriors and young, risen from their fields and pastures, carrying hundreds of torches.
These men had impeccable war paint, white and smooth, and their weapons, whilst old, were well cared for; they were the true fighters of The Giant Kings domain, not these upstarts, crude of demeanor and manner, and their ragtag band.
Rammakitti spoke again, “I will face you in combat, in the ways of warriors past, and when you lose, you are finished here”
And then did the brothers know fear as the flames flickered in Rammakitti’s eyes.
As was done in those days, for contest by night, the flaming torches were placed in a square thirty strides on a side, and the earth swept clean.
Rammakitti stepped into the square, his blue cloak swirled about him, and lay his saddle and its weapons in the corner before covering with his garment.
He stood then, holding the iron shod staff the first brother had chosen as weapons, his white clothes a testament to the purity of battle, his red belt foretelling of the spilled blood to come, and his yellow head band of a man who dies not for himself.
In the manner of the southernmost temple on the Red Mountains, where Rammakitti had completed his training, he was barefoot, and did not wear greaves.
The first brother, the fool whose braying awakens donkeys for miles in every direction, entered the square.
The first son of Baka, like them all, was a giant of muscle, standing half again as high as Rammakitti, naked aside from a leather skirt, black as the smith’s tools, seeming as uninterruptible as a stampede.
His weapon, akin to Rammakitti’s as a wildebeest is akin to a gazelle, was a great lump of fire hardened wood shod in iron as dark as its master.
This weighty argument was swung and pounded into the ground, in a noise not unlike that of a thunderstorm, or the collision of two ships, or the rage of some great beast.
And yet Rammakitti stood still and unmoving, like the quiet air of morning, and smiled his knowing smile.
The first son, knowing the first move was his, began to run towards his opponent, as a storm cloud races across the savannah, a bellow of rage coruscating from his throat.
As he ran, he raised his great club above his head, a feat near unmatchable among mortal men, with the intent to crush Rammakitti in a single blow.
And yet Rammakitti stood still and unmoving, like the owl at dusk, and smiled his knowing smile.
The giant crossed the twenty yards separating him from his prey at a rapid pace, and the onlookers suddenly knew fear for Rammakitti’s survival in face of that force.
But four yards from his slight foe the colossus began bringing his club down in a great arc that could smash rocks and slay a rhino in a single blow.
And yet Rammakitti stood still and unmoving, like the spider in his web, and smiled his knowing smile.
What happened then made the brothers furious charge seem like the crawl of a snail, as his great club descended.
For Rammakitti, having judged his moment right, stepped forward into the giants reach, and in one smooth movement did he act.
He ducked under the great club, spun his staff in a glittering blur of motion like a slash of water, and its end did connect with the giants great head.
Rammakitti, his blow dealt, dived to the side out of the giants reach, as the colossal son of Baka toppled like a felled tree.
He who had sought to end the battle in a single blow of great strength, was undone by a blow of far less force.
And here did Rammakitti demonstrate the sixth virtue of the warrior, patience enough to wait for the time and moment of greatest effect.
Extracts from “The Virtues of Rammakitti”
…and thus his task was done in the valley of the seven trees.
And thus did Rammakitti, bright of smile and swift of deed, call his five and seventy lancers to him, and once more rode to the Gyekadaaha’s imperative.
Ride they did, for seven days, across the brown rivers of the stilt-house people, numerous and humble, and across the open spaces of warriors of the red stripe, few and proud.
On the eighth day Rammakitti and his lancers came to the valley of the golden rock.
There they did stay at the house of Ratwatte, the generous host, resting in the deep shade of his trees, and partaking of his most excellent fruit.
Whilst his men practiced their skill in bow and blade, and indulged in all manner of games of chance, Rammakitti did seek council with Ratwatte, wishing foreknowledge of what awaited up the valley.
Gyekadaaha Bandaranaike, far of vision and deep of memory, had bid Rammakitti seek King Baka, He Whose Hands Crush Skulls, Giant of the North and Lord of the Black Men of the Golden Valley.
This was so that the dark colossus and his men might aid the Lords of the Southern Kingdom in their war against the men of dust.
Ratwatte’s news was like a mourning bell to this bold plan, for the noble King Baka had passed on, suddenly as an old warrior might, whilst hunting lion on the plains three days north of Kalopiambezi, his fall breaking the earth, his great corpse taking six men and six days to carry back to his hall.
In his stead his three sons ruled, each their fathers equal in stature, but all three together could not match his nobility or wisdom, inclined to bickering and pettiness.
Rammakitti, calm of mind and dark of eye, did consider this awhile whilst his men renewed themselves, and when he rode on to King Baka’s hall he did with the smile of a cunning plan on his face.
His loyal captains; Vijaya, he of the four bows, and Kumaratunga, he of the dancing sword, rode out on other deeds.
Rammakitti drew up outside the Dead Giants Hall, crude of material but graceful of form, and admired its carvings as described in the tale of Bandaranaike the Weaver of Snakes, who was friend and foe and friend again to the King of the Golden Valley.
As the sun rolled towards its destination, Rammakitti and the ten of his lancers that did accompany him, loosed five notes of sorrow on their red horns, and caused the hall to buzz like a kicked hive.
From the great door tumbled five and forty men, warriors of the Black lands, but ill attired and slovenly, the war paint that had graced the bodies of the proud Gokomere and the steadfast Mwenes in the siege of the Seven Walled city was here misapplied and sloppy, their blades rusty and battered.
Behind them stood their masters, befuddled as if from drink or meal, the three sons of the Giant, each equal to the height of Rammakitti as he sat on his horse, and each muscled enough to lift an Ox.
The youngest of the three did bellow at the still horsemen, “Why do you disturb our revels with you song of sorrow?” The second, “Who are you to wear naked blades in the lands of where we rule” The third said nothing and showed his teeth in a manner not dissimilar to that of a lion.
Rammakitti replied with a voice level and carrying, as the last glints of sunlight slipped down over the western wall of the valley, “We merely do honour and respect to your dead father, my noble Princes, for news of his passing is but fresh to my ears.
As too who I am, I am an agent of the King of the Eastern sea, and these are my ten doughty Ekadaahalokumiiyaa in his service.”
Replied the second, “King Baka is dead and buried these past four years, we now rule his lands, begonst agent of a pisspot king!”
Replied the first, the fool, “Yeah!”
The third did not reply, but merely stared.
Rammakitti did bend his face into a frown of displeasure,
“Do you forget the years of the red rains, and the year of the locust not ten past when the Southern kingdom did send you wagonloads of good and pure grain least you starve?
Do you not forget when the Ndlo swept over your valley and the lands of the Mwenes, the Kingdom sent five score of its young warriors to your aid and their deaths?
Do you not forget when your Father, whose voice shattered ears, did swear bonds of eternal friendship with the Gyekadaaha of Kandy after they broke the back of the blue army of the west?
Do you forget all that your father was and did?”
Replied the second “We do, this is a new time, this is our time…his law is broken!”
Rammakitti smiled his white smile of victory, and nodded to each of the brother in turn, “How then do you rule? If his law is broken, what gives you the right?”
The first two brothers laughed at this, and even the third, whose silence had been complete, widened his lion-smile,
“Our might of arms of course, what man would darn stand against us?”
Rammakitti nodded, and one of his lancers let loose a note on his red horn, and it was suddenly as if the black and craven hall was plunged into the centre of a great blaze, like a fresh log into a campfire.
When the eyes of the men, noble and foul alike, adjusted to the light they saw that the scheme of Rammakitti, like some many of his before, had been pulled off.
For there stood Vijaya and Kumaratunga, and three score more of Rammakitti’s proud lancers, the darkness and the bellowing of the brothers three having hidden their approach.
With them stood four hundreds of men, old warriors and young, risen from their fields and pastures, carrying hundreds of torches.
These men had impeccable war paint, white and smooth, and their weapons, whilst old, were well cared for; they were the true fighters of The Giant Kings domain, not these upstarts, crude of demeanor and manner, and their ragtag band.
Rammakitti spoke again, “I will face you in combat, in the ways of warriors past, and when you lose, you are finished here”
And then did the brothers know fear as the flames flickered in Rammakitti’s eyes.
As was done in those days, for contest by night, the flaming torches were placed in a square thirty strides on a side, and the earth swept clean.
Rammakitti stepped into the square, his blue cloak swirled about him, and lay his saddle and its weapons in the corner before covering with his garment.
He stood then, holding the iron shod staff the first brother had chosen as weapons, his white clothes a testament to the purity of battle, his red belt foretelling of the spilled blood to come, and his yellow head band of a man who dies not for himself.
In the manner of the southernmost temple on the Red Mountains, where Rammakitti had completed his training, he was barefoot, and did not wear greaves.
The first brother, the fool whose braying awakens donkeys for miles in every direction, entered the square.
The first son of Baka, like them all, was a giant of muscle, standing half again as high as Rammakitti, naked aside from a leather skirt, black as the smith’s tools, seeming as uninterruptible as a stampede.
His weapon, akin to Rammakitti’s as a wildebeest is akin to a gazelle, was a great lump of fire hardened wood shod in iron as dark as its master.
This weighty argument was swung and pounded into the ground, in a noise not unlike that of a thunderstorm, or the collision of two ships, or the rage of some great beast.
And yet Rammakitti stood still and unmoving, like the quiet air of morning, and smiled his knowing smile.
The first son, knowing the first move was his, began to run towards his opponent, as a storm cloud races across the savannah, a bellow of rage coruscating from his throat.
As he ran, he raised his great club above his head, a feat near unmatchable among mortal men, with the intent to crush Rammakitti in a single blow.
And yet Rammakitti stood still and unmoving, like the owl at dusk, and smiled his knowing smile.
The giant crossed the twenty yards separating him from his prey at a rapid pace, and the onlookers suddenly knew fear for Rammakitti’s survival in face of that force.
But four yards from his slight foe the colossus began bringing his club down in a great arc that could smash rocks and slay a rhino in a single blow.
And yet Rammakitti stood still and unmoving, like the spider in his web, and smiled his knowing smile.
What happened then made the brothers furious charge seem like the crawl of a snail, as his great club descended.
For Rammakitti, having judged his moment right, stepped forward into the giants reach, and in one smooth movement did he act.
He ducked under the great club, spun his staff in a glittering blur of motion like a slash of water, and its end did connect with the giants great head.
Rammakitti, his blow dealt, dived to the side out of the giants reach, as the colossal son of Baka toppled like a felled tree.
He who had sought to end the battle in a single blow of great strength, was undone by a blow of far less force.
And here did Rammakitti demonstrate the sixth virtue of the warrior, patience enough to wait for the time and moment of greatest effect.
Insane_Panda
Deity
Boy, this update is going to be interesting. Sheep did what everyone expected him to - attack Dukekenennengayayayayygykkenatyagaaya. 
Israelite9191
You should be reading
Gospel of the Saints: Sayings of Saint Bizhihi
These are the teaching of Saint Bizhihi, Apostle of the Cree. Praise and glory be unto his name, for he was a light unto this world. He was dead and lived again; he was martyred and lived to tell. Blessings be to the Earth, the Moon, and the Sea for all eternity. Amen.
"What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of an elk in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset."
"Listen or your tongue will keep you deaf. Pray our your sins will remove your conscience."
"Wisdom comes only when you stop looking for it and start living the life the Mother intended for you."
"Poverty is a noose that strangles humility and breeds sin. To be a good disciple is to relieve poverty."
"Walk always with the Trinity before you, behind you, above you, below you, to your left, to your right, within you, and without you, for what are we without our Mother?"
"Force begets resistance. Always spread the Gospel with an ear to your audience and patience in all things."
""Seek wisdom, not knowledge. Knowledge is of the past, Wisdom is of the future."
"One finger can not lift a pebble, and one prayer can not save a sinner."
"Each person is his own judge, each murderer his own executioner. The Mother will forgive all, but we must first reconcile ourselves."
"No man suffers from another's sins; he has enough of his own."
"A heavy purse makes a light heart, for salvation can not be bought."
"If there is water you will not drink, let it run, for there is always someone in need."
"In death I was born, for then I saw. Through the darkness came light, and through the light came revelation. I saw the glory that is heaven, the glory of the Word. I saw the horror of my sin, the horror of my word. Praises be, praises be! Hal'lujah, praises be! I was blind but now I see."
Insane_Panda
Deity
No, Shortguy, I am fairly confident he did not invade you. There was no need to "expediate" the process - frankly, not much can expediate over 150 Tieh Thousands marching accross Turan.
If he did try to "expediate" the demise of your nation, however, he will find that my armies shall send him flying back to India. Any foriegn armies attempting to enroach upon your nation other than mine and Onaghur's shall be dealt with harshly
If he did try to "expediate" the demise of your nation, however, he will find that my armies shall send him flying back to India. Any foriegn armies attempting to enroach upon your nation other than mine and Onaghur's shall be dealt with harshly
"expediate"?
Don't worry, I'm already looking for replacement choices.
I should have gone "barbarian horde" on the Bulghars, but unfortunately I didn't think of that in time. Would have been more interesting, if perhaps not more successful.
Don't worry, I'm already looking for replacement choices.
I should have gone "barbarian horde" on the Bulghars, but unfortunately I didn't think of that in time. Would have been more interesting, if perhaps not more successful.
Insane_Panda
Deity
Expedite. my mistake!
Well, its difficult to play such a nation as Turan, which starts out rather poor and undeveloped and ends up...well, poor and undeveloped.
Well, its difficult to play such a nation as Turan, which starts out rather poor and undeveloped and ends up...well, poor and undeveloped.
Sheep
Orange Shrooms!
To the Known World
From Aryavata
It is sad that we announce the decleration of war against Sri Dukkyenga for their attacks against us. Proof of this has come through the interrogation of prisoners that point to the direct involvement of the government of the Dukkyengans in their attacks against Aryavata.
We announce that any other nation that does no wrong with Aryavata will be friends of it. If they attack it, then they will follow the Sri Dukkyegans. Proof will be given to anyone who asks, by forwarded private message.
From Aryavata
It is sad that we announce the decleration of war against Sri Dukkyenga for their attacks against us. Proof of this has come through the interrogation of prisoners that point to the direct involvement of the government of the Dukkyengans in their attacks against Aryavata.
We announce that any other nation that does no wrong with Aryavata will be friends of it. If they attack it, then they will follow the Sri Dukkyegans. Proof will be given to anyone who asks, by forwarded private message.
Sheep
Orange Shrooms!
Shortguy, I dont know what nation you play!
Sheep
Orange Shrooms!
Yeah dont worry mate, I aint attacking you.
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
To Aryavarta
From Sri Dukunnugeya
CC: Concerned Nations
We do not know what is being spoken of here, it is true that the Bantu and Khosians that attacked the ill-considered Ayravartan outpost had Dukunnugeyan arms and armour, but we wonder if you could find any warrior south of the Congo who does not, for such is the quality of our manufacture that it is in high demand. The Ayravartan government wishes to hide its problems at home, and its inept bungling in africa with a war of conquest! Why else would they attack in secret, rather than making their demands for recompense known first? They have not allowed us to make our case for innocence, or even pay tribute in the interests of peace! No, Aryavarta and its King Anjva[1], are a dangerous state - after we are trampled underfoot who will it next need to blame for its mistakes?
[1]Sanskrit for Sheep
Sheep
Orange Shrooms!
ooc: Thanks dis.
To Sri Dukkyenga
From Aryavata (I will be changing this name soon I think)
We are not opposed to a favourable peace treaty. The reason for this invasion is clear to you. We have proof that you are directly behind the attacks from the Africans and the pirates both. We do not negotiate with those that attack us so. We will wait to see what happens and then allow for a reasonable peace to be concluded.
King Anjva of Aryavata.
To Sri Dukkyenga
From Aryavata (I will be changing this name soon I think)
We are not opposed to a favourable peace treaty. The reason for this invasion is clear to you. We have proof that you are directly behind the attacks from the Africans and the pirates both. We do not negotiate with those that attack us so. We will wait to see what happens and then allow for a reasonable peace to be concluded.
King Anjva of Aryavata.
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