JNES: Learning to Walk

[Cuivienen]

Some more stuff about Calas'ai:

Calas'ai
Government: Imperial Republic
Ruler: Empress Sai'la
Capital City: Calas
Religion: Ant'ail
Economy: Okay
Income: +1 (100% Land Taxes)
Men Available: 5,000
Army:
5 Spearmen Aiga’e* (1,500 Spearmen)
3 Swordsmen Aiga’e (900 Swordsmen)
2 Archer Aiga’e (500 Archers)
Navy: 20 Galleys
Culture: 1
Infrastructure:
Approval Rating: 50%
Resources: None
Major Wonders:
Short Background:

*Aiga’e (sing. Aiga) are the largest unit of measure currently in use by the Calas’ai’i. It simply means “three hundred.” It is typically not used a counting term, however, but a military term, meaning a band of 300 troops led by a single leader. (300 soldiers is a traditional Calas’ai’i military division.)

 

[Contempt]

Country Name: Naan
Government: Tribunal
Ruler: 3 Chieftens/Contempt
Capital City: None
Religion: Naan Spirtualism
Economy: Okay
Income: +1 (100% Tribute from Population)
Men Available: 5,000
Army: 2,000 Steppe Calvary
Navy: None
Culture: 1
Infrastructure: None
Approval Rating: 50%
Resources: None
Major Wonders:
Short Background: The tribes to the far north have began to unite, albiet shakily, under a tribunal of prominent chieftens. The nation of Naan is prominently a herding driven nation, and does not really have taxes on the amount of land since land is believed to be owned by the tribes as a whole. Instead, its people pay tribute to the Tribunal for protection of the tribes.

 

[Dreadnought]

Shoot! Forgot the map with my land!

EDIT: On first page under my post

BTW, is there any REAL advantage to being near a river?

 

[Kal'thzar]

Olmecia
Government: Fuedal-Theocratic-Imperialist
Ruler: The Prophet
Capital City: Delsa
Religion: Prophet Worship
Economy: Okay
Income: +1 (100% Land Taxes)
Men Available: 5,000
Army:
Navy:
Culture: 1
Infrastructure:
Approval Rating: 50%
Resources: None
Major Wonders:
Short Background: Olmecia was founded by The First Great Prophet in the Jungles of Vos, God of the World. The People of Olmecia Worship there many Gods through an intermediy; The Prophet. While Titled with a religious name, he is also invariably the secular ruler as well.

 

[North King]

Aww Man, I wish the other continent was there, i like developing backward nations. (See: Olmecia)

Ok, is there anywhere entirley Devoid of civs?

Yeah, I want a backwards civ too. Oh well, probably can't devote as much time to this as I'd like.

 

[fox moonglow]

The Founding of Liviia

(Approx. 100-150 years before NES begins)

Vatia Crow ran faster, as fast as his legs could carry him. Heedless of the danger, he plunged headfirst into a thornbush, stopping, still as a jackrabbit listening for his predators.

There were none; the merciless barbarians of the mountains still drunk off of their victory - easy food and spoils off of the peaceful people of the river. Vatia relaxed.

A twig snapped nearby.

Vatia bolted from his cover, to the gutteral curses of a pair of barbarian warriors, certain they had slain or enslaved everyone from the Crow tribe. Which they nearly did; so far as he knew, Vatia was the only survivor.

Faster he leaped over fallen trees, along the short cliff with the lifegiving River rushing below him. Almost to the next tribe. Almost to safety.

Pain coursed through him; an arrow landing directly in his back, piercing his guts. Vatia stumbled, and fell into the River.

Watching the youth's corpse flowing downriver, the barbarians congratulated each other on a job well done before heading back to the festivities.

-------------------------------

In a small village shortly downriver, a girl gathering water notices a young man gasping on the shore, occassionally coughing up blood. Gaping, she runs back to the village, summoning Matriarch Tiia and Patriarch Tikk to investigate.

It is already far too late for Vatia, but he may yet succeed in his mission. To the clan leaders, he choked only a few words. "Barbarians... hundreds... five tribes lost... unite the rest..." with that, he exhaled once, then joined the spirit realm, his mission complete.

The next week, when the raiders came into the village, they found not a few untrained warriors, but a sizable battle-ready force. The fighting was brutal and bloody, but the remaining tribes held fast, and in the end, the confederacy that would be known and Liviia "Protector" would win the day.

Ever since this time, the crow has been of great reverence in Liviia, and crow's feathers are given to those who show exeptional skill or bravery.

 

[Israelite9191]

The Manrics, as they are called, are not very inventive when it comes to government. They follow one ruler, the king, who inherets the spot. The only inventive thing about it is that the 9 (considered a lucky number) closest relatives choose the next king from among themselves.

The Cult of Manric Mar Farsind is a sort of proto-monotheism. Thought the old g-ds are still revered, none are nearly as important as Manric. The only g-d who is assured that he will not leave the memories of the Manrics is Farsind. Farsind is the father g-d of the people and is represented by a ram. While he once was a minor deity, his position as Manric's father (Manric Mar Farsind meaning "Manric Son of Farsind") means that as his son gained popularity, so did he. He has grown from simply being a fertility deity to being the creator, father g-d as well as the g-d of all vegitation and wild animals. As the Cult of Manric Mar Farsind grows and evolves, it is likely that it will becom a duo-theism.
********
His majesty looked over his beloved city. Potter's Bay, so called for it was home to houses litterally made by potters. without the potters, Potter's Bay would not exist. And yet, the terracotta walls and facades grew dull and meshed together. Potter's Bay needed a face lift bad, and the king had just the right thing in mind. He would have every building painted. Murals would line the streets and everything would be bright. Potter's Bay it would still be, but now his home town would be famous not just for its terracotta, but for its rainbows of colour.

Project: City Mural= +3 culture, +1 stability

 

[Insane_Panda]

The Mérovecnate of Vespaseilles
Government: Aristocratic Republic
Ruler: Mérovec (Merh-oh-veyc) Nazaire I
Capital City: Vespaseilles (Vey-pah-say), on the island of Provance (Pro-vanc)
Religion: Eglise De Le Soleil (Church of the Sun) (Simple English Plural form: Eglisians)
Economy: Okay
Income: +1 (100% Land Taxes)
Men Available: 5,000
Army: 4 Merguerrier (lit. - seawarriors) Compagions, 6 Chasseur Compagions (light skirmishers/archers) (200 Men Each)
Navy: 20 Vespasillian Galéres (Gal-E-rs)
Culture: 1
Infrastructure:
Approval Rating: 50%
Resources: None
Major Wonders:
Short Background: Descendents of avernic fisherman which ploughed the sea of provance since early neolithic times. Since such times, the fisherman have consolidated into a single nation, a single city-state known as Vespasilles, under a single government known as the Vespasillian Mérovecnate. It is here that they have forged a culture similar yet ultimately unique to what is present on the mainland.

START LOCATION: I'd ask for this purplish-grey color aswell.

A Basic Overview of La Grandé Merovecnate.

[Note - I am using the French language as a language for my nation, if for no other reason than I am currently studying it and I like the sound. It also fits nicely with my history, as the Vespasillians were originally mainlanders]

The Vespasillian people have their origins in the region of Avernia as simple coastal folk. Religious scripture of the Eglises tell of a 'divine inspiration' which led the Vespasillian people onto the isle of Provance (Pro-vanc) (translates into simply province, or in an antiquated meaning, home) yet what is most widely accepted is that in the times before the tribes of Avernia began to join closer together and confederate into what is now Avernum, the tribes of the coastal areas took to the blue waters of the Provanc seas in simple reed fishing boats, eventually reaching Provance. An early fishing settlement was established in the area modern day Vespasilles during the neolithic eras, a fishing settlement which slowly grew into a small city as time drew closer to the era of the first civilizations.

The city name of Vespasilles is derived from the name of a prominent fishing tribe, people known as the Vespasiens. The city lies between where the Soleil river meets the Mer D'Azure (Azure Sea) (commonly refered to by most Vespasillians as the Provance Sea). There is fertile land, yet not in great enough quantities. Therefore the mainstay of the Vespasillian diet has been and remains thusfar fish, backed up by grains, grapes, olives, and other vineyard fruits which are growth throughout the isle.

The system of government is decidedly similar to the governments around it, in that it is based on a republican system of shared government. However as with most republics it is decidedly not free, no matter what rhetoric tells you. Rather, it is a republic centered upon the few wealthy elite Comtes (Counts) of the nation. Most Comtes are wealthy merchants (trading, along with fishing, being the major industry of Vespaseilles now) who have accumulated their power with their wealth. Over the comtes and over the whole of the Merovecnate rules the Mérovec. Essentially, he is the king (and has king-like powers) of the republic, appointed for life by a council of the Comtes. Yet even though confered massive powers, he does not rule absolute. Instead, annually he calls upon a congregation of the nobility, where they will confer to him suggestions and requests concerning the government. The comtes, being the major holders of wealth in the Mérovecnate, hold significant influence in the economy of the nation aswell. Naturally however, the Merovéc governs the Mérovecnate.

Another important, yet not central, fixture of Vespaseilles is the Eglise de Soleil, or church of the Sun. As can be assumed, worship is mainly given to the sun, which Vespasillians belive the earth originated from, as a child of the aforementioned celestial body. The sun is also worshiped as the center of all life, and if not pleased, will cease to burn. Offerings of animals and food are normally given. The church, the organ of religion, is meticulously organized under its own seperate 'government' aswell. Ruling the church is the Ponté, whom is appointed by the Merovéc. It is the Ponté's duty that religion is properly administered and that the sun is given the proper offerings, to ensure the prosperity of the Mérovecnate.

Last but not least, is the military. The military, because Vespaseille is essentially surrounded by water, is focued upon maritime capability. On land the bulk of its forces remain lightly armored skirmishers and archers known as the Chasseurs while an elite force of marines known as Merguerriers is maintained for action with the fleet. Merguerriers are primarily armed with short swords and moderately sized oval shields. They are given a secondary weapon known as the javelot, a thin, sharp metal spear with a wooden shaft meant for ranged combat. Meanwhile the navy is composed exclusively of Vespasillian Galéres - fast, moderately sized oared galleys.

---

Spear Armed Merguerrier

Chasseur Infanterié - Light Skirmisher infantry

Chasseur Archer - Archers

 

[Plexus]

Alahre
Government: Monarchy
Ruler: King Arenac
Capital City: Muinar
Religion: Alahric Bitheism
Economy: Okay
Income: +1 (100% Land Taxes)
Men Available: 5,000
Army:
Navy:
Culture: 1
Infrastructure:
Approval Rating: 50%
Resources: None
Major Wonders:
Short Background: The Alahren are a coastal people, descended from fishermen that settled near the present day site of the Alahric capital of Muinar. Muinar, at the opening of the Sea of Athrahum, is a prime location for trade, as goods from the North, East and South flow to and from the port. The city is seated at the tip of the Alahre Peninsula, bounded to the West by the Great Sea, the East by the Sea of Athrahum; the Alahre Peninsula is at the Northern bank of the Straight of Laris.

 

[Disenfrancised]

Go away

alright, sniff...

Any way here are some stories


The sun shone low and bloody across the Kura foothills to the east as Verzo and a few of his select fighters strode into the village.

"It's as if the sun itself has been pierced by the Spires of Kura, and left to bleed dry like some hunters catch," remarked his nephew Eri.

Verzo merely raised an eyebrow, not bothering to respond to this flight of fancy. He had not been chosen as chief-of-chiefs for his impetuous nature after all, but for a demeanour as stern and as unforgiving as the great mountains themselves - someone who would do what's is best for the tribe and family, regardless of his own feelings.

The chief of this particular part of the Gargari tribe hurried up to the chief-of-chiefs and his entourage. Much to his chagrin, Verzo could not place the mans name, as he had rarely journeyed to Verzo's father's house back in the mountains, or to Gar Versey in the present.

"Greetings Cousin" the man said, "I'm glad you could come so quickly, this matter has been most worrisome"

"Yes, I'm sure you could not have dealt with this matter on your own" replied Verzo with a slight trace of impatience. "Where is the criminal?"

"The last hut on the right, I think he is in"

Idiot, thought Verzo to himself, you could see the shape of this mans plans an hour before he thought them. The criminal would have found out Verzo was coming and ran back to the mountains like a scared rabbit, had not Verzo sent some of his men on ahead and circled the village to cut off the escape.

In fact, keen-eyed Eri spotted the men bringing the criminal back just as they reached the hut, the large frame of the man suspended from a pole carried by four others; "coming quietly" not being a concept the Gargari put much value in.

Verzo seated himself on a nearby stone and addressed the prisoner, who had been unceremoniously dumped near his feet,

"So..."

"My Oath demanded it of me! He killed my brother!" growled the criminal, his face inches from the chief-of-chiefs foot. "You have no right to order me to this!"

"Your brother called Lackear out, I judged them evenly matched, and Lackear won in a fair combat. This cycle of vengeance you preach is what brought us to ruin in the mountains, a Blood Oath ends at the first soul loosened from the world. Your killing of Lackear, and his uncle and brother after him, goes against the very life of the tribe. It's true you are a free man, of Gargari blood no less, and I order you only as you will it. Yet the chiefs vested in me the power of decision; who lives as a Gargari...and who does not, to stop this current of blood that will otherwise wash over us all." Verzo replied, in a tone as cold as the roof of the world.

"But...Cousin..."

Verzo unsheathed his long knife.

"You are not Gargari now"

 

[Disenfrancised]

Characterization is hard, I’ll be steering clear of that again for the time being.

More Details

The Gargari tend to be of middling height and stocky, but have a speed and reflexes that belay their build, all things that put them in good stead back in the mountains. Their skin tends to a deep olive and their head to dark and wavy, yet their eye colour is often light blue or green, perhaps due to intermingling with the peoples of the northern continent.

The main diet is cereals grown around the Azlan River and supplemented by protein from light fishing and extensive pasturage of goats and llamas back in the foothills and the plains away from the river, with most of their cloth being woven from Llama wool, though a rich chief might have a cloak of wolfskin or bearskin.

The people have a fierce individualistic streak that makes governance occasionally troublesome, so chief tend to administer only a few hundred people, such as a small village or city district. The chiefs, of which there are roughly 300 at the present time with only a few being hereditary, elect a chief-of-chiefs from among their number. This position is more that of high justice than direct commander and serves the chiefs as they serve their people – mainly by stopping them from killing each other. The Chief-of-chiefs word is life or death but has little say over the day to day run of peoples lives, though in an emergency or great opportunity the tribe will always listen to what he has to say.

Day to day culture, especially in the City of Gar Versey is very polite; as any perceived infraction can be called out into a duel, quite often to the death. The Chief-of-chiefs will only step in when the feud extends beyond the sacred bounds of a rite of combat.

The city itself is mainly a market town where cereal growers can trade for meat and wool from the hill people, though there are many craftsmen and several large guilds of weavers. There are few large buildings, the main being several granaries and a large wooden amphitheatre where the chiefs meet and the chief-of-chiefs arbitrates disputes.

 

[Concona]

The leafs where trembling in the deep forests of Ethél nearby Jamailla in the King and Chosen Onedom Jamailla Eden. Nar Ketricken felt that time would change, he had visions of Mother Nature crying her eyes out for the kin of Jamailla Eden. He knew that she was not so happy with the sound that there where other people around, not of her own kin, not the Chosen kin.

He wishes to know how he could calm her down, for Jamailla Eden is not a kin to be trifled with or to ignore or outnumber. He knew he couldn't do it with words because Mother Nature only responds on deeds. Nar knew that he had to sacrafice a normal man for the sake of the well-being of Mother nature. He had to kidnap a normal man and then in a sacred ritual sacrafice the body, so that the blood of the man would reach the earth so Mother Nature would be calmed down.

 

[Disenfrancised]

That Central sea is starting to get crowded...

 

[das]

A twig snapped. Others followed soon after - the Tehry realized what has happened. Muttering curses under his breath, Rodhos took out his slingshot and rotated it quickly.

"Run!" - he shouted quietly to Bharis - "I will hold them off..."

Scared, Bharis ran away, quickly, causing much noice. The Tehry did not know the forest as well as Rodhos... but he was doomed. Bharis heard tales of the Tehry cruelty... He was now quite sure that Rodhos would... die.

Regardless, he ran, not hearing anything around himself. Towards the camp-village! Towards the vodad's hut!

As he came into the camp-village, some looked at the boy curiously. He was bruised somewhat, and looked genuinely scared. One of the Yatery adults asked him what was happening.

"The Tehry are coming!" - the boy shouted, in panic, and continued running towards the hut, shouting - "The Tehry are coming!"

Not all took him seriously, but vodad Yahris looked the boy in the eyes and nodded.

"All those capable of bearing and using weapons, I call you to the central square!" - Yahris exclaimed, coming out of the hut. Messangers spread his word. By the time the Tehry came towards the camp-village, the Yatery were ready.

---

Swords, axes, clubs and javelins - those are the main weapons of Harkan tribes. Weapons, worthy of warriors. Weapons with which they killed, weapons from which they died.

But in the defense of a hanakad, a village-camp, not just warriors fought - women, children and elders often fought as well, as long as they "are capable of bearing and using weapons". Often enough, they could not, due to lack of training or physical strenght, use weapons of regular warriors - besides, those weapons are rarely more then just enough for the warriors themselves. So they use knives, cooking utensils... and slings.

Slings are a weapon that in part is what Harkan Golmy are famed for in all of the okad. Indeed, it is somehow revered by the freedom-loving, mastership-appreciating Harkans as well, being a weapon that can strike down weak and strong alike with ease. No wonder that the lity speak of a small boy that killed a tyrannical, evil gladad of the long-extinct Zlida selad using a sling.

In a way, it happened again that day. Frightened, panicked, tired, Bharis nonetheless decided to take part in the battle. With a sling, naturally. He wasn't all that good with the sling, but nevertheless, that was the only weapon he could use.

So Bharis came up into the line of other boy-slingers, who stood behind the adult warriors. The Tehry charged, the slingers moved forward.. He put a small stone into the socket and begun whirling it. Quicker, quicker... he felt his head ache slightly from all the recent troubles combined with the whirling, and so he let the stone fly. Right into the charging Tehry horde (for there were much more then thirty men there - they evidently split up into seven or eight such groups whilst in the forest).

A small stone, even if hurled by hand, can hurt quite badly; if it hits one in the eye, it might be fatal. But if it is sent by a sling, it becomes a truly lethal weapon, capable of killing a person with a single hit.

This particular stone that Bharis slung crushed the scull of a Tehra Swordmaster.

The slingers fired again and retreated (or rather, ran away), and then the main skirmish begun. Vodad Yahris charged into the fray with his great axe, cutting away at enemies. Javelins flew, shouts came... the Tehry knew no mercy, unlike other sely. And now, the Yatery didn't take prisoners neither. It was a great battle, a furious battle; but eventually, the Tehry, weakened, begun retreating. It was then that Yahris, chasing after a fleeing Tehra warrior, was trapped between two other Tehry, who killed him.

Grief-struck, the Yatery were at the time more like enraged. Like mad dogs, they charged, ignoring wounds, avenging their vodad. The Tehry faltered, they were routing. Those few who were captured were given to the gods.

Most were killed on spot.

Only four Tehry fled, fled to spread the rumors of the Yatera rage, fled in shame, fled to never rise to greatness again.

---

For even though they could have, given time, recovered, the Yatery knew no mercy for traitors. They raided the Tehry, they harassed them at every opportunity... The new vodad was Marhus (not the potter - "Marhus" was a very common Harkan name), who, on the first year after the Battle of Yatera Hanakad, ordered for old warriors to take pupils from boys beginning at 12 rather then the usual 14. He wanted to prepare a large army in three years, hoping to put an end to the Tehry, once and for all.

The elders agreed.

And so, the preparations begun. Bahris was 13 years old at the time, and was already quite skilled at hunting; besides, he did have certain combat experience from the Battle at Yatera Hanakad, though he preffered not to remember it (his father died there, and so did the vodad and hunter Rodhos, and nearly two hundred others). He was a good pupil for warrior Irhis, learning to hurl javelins, to fight with axes and with clubs, though not with a sword - swords were, after all, reserved for the Swordmasters and their pupils, the elite of any Harkan army. They weren't easy to wield, neither.

Three years passed, with successes and failures, with training and games, with Bahris' first love...

Years passed. Bahris grew up, became a man, became... a warrior.

Finally, the army set out to purge the Harka Golmy of all that is Tehra. The other sely officially granted the Yatery passage through their lands in the pursuit of the Tehry.

Bahris marched along with the army, across hills and occasional grasslands, northwards, where the Tehra hanakad was being kept under a de facto siege by the constant raids.

Finally, finally, came the day of revenge. The day of battle.

The omens were dark and threatening, but Harkans were hardly a superstitious people...

To be continued.

 

[das]

Mulanpi

Ripoff.

Olmecia

Another ripoff.

I am using the French language

Et tu, Panda?

You are just lucky that my people don't live anywhere near you.

Yet.

but could you make some sort of glossary?

Not yet, although I'm working on it.

Why are our numbers increasing so quickly with each passing day?

Because its in the rules.

Contempt, glad to see that I have such a "good" neighbour. Am looking forward to a very epic war.

 

[Oruc]

Nope!

 

[alex994]

whats Mulanpi a ripoff of

It's an old chinese name of a land in the west in the legends of Xu Fu what some people believe to be America.

@das, i changed the name now happy? It's now the Kingdom of the Sky

 

[Contempt]

Oh, it'll be epic alright. It will be most glorious.

 

[Jason The King]

I am going to try to update within the day or tomorrow. Until then, I ask that whatever stories u people write, to please title it your nation's name so I can remember about the country.

 

[das]

The omens were dark and threatening. So said the snary, the interpreters of fate.

But the brave vodad Marhus ignored their advice.

"We do not depend on gods. Gods do not favour us now - but they will favour us once we show them that we can take things into our own hands. Let us not be scared - this is but a test. Let us prove to gods and mortals that we were sincere when we said that NOTHING will stop our revenge. Yaterajudy! Forwards!"

And they ran quickly, towards the hanakad. The quiet hanakad. Bahris shuddered. It looked as if the Tehery all died.

"Torch their walls!" - shouted Marhus, and warriors begun throwing torches at the pallisade, and beyond it. Archers fired ignited arrows. Bahris heard a stiffled moan. That was all that came from there.

The fire begun to die down, and the Yatery warriors begun entering the hanakad. The quiet hanakad. The deserted hanakad.

The Yatery warriors begun entering a trap...

---

The hanakad was indeed dead. Maybe there was an ambush here... but it was destroyed by the fire.

Or was it?

Suddenly, somebody, with a hideously-maimed face, jumped out with a knife, which Bahris stopped short from his neck. He killed this Teherad. This old man who tried to kill him.

Bahris felt very, very ill. Killing people up close was not something he did before. He sped up his pace, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the corpse. He realized that the others were little less disturbed by this.

Bahris vomited into the ruins of a charred woode building. This fire assault couldn't have done all that. The Tehry destroyed the place previously.

They forgot an elder. Or maybe, they left him deliberately? Or perhaps he volunteered?

Bahris suddenly realized that he strayed away from the main group somewhat. He still could hear their voices though.

They were shouting. There was clanging of bronze and whistling of arrows. The Tehry set up a trap here, and theYatery entered it, expecting honorable battle.

Bahris ran towards the noise. Better dead then alone.

---

"Stand fast!" - yelled Marhus - "They will take no prisoners, the only way for us to survive is to win!"

The troops didn't need this encouragement - they knew that it was too late for the Tehry to start taking prisoners. They knew that there was no escape, no survival... unless they win.

Marhus crushed a Tehrad's skull with his mace. Bahris threw a javelin into a charging Tehra warrior, injuring his arm. The Yatery were hemmed in within the Tehra hanakad. They were outnumbered.

But in a way, it was useful. The more numerous Tehry had problems of physical character - many of their warriors couldn't actually get to the fighting, and only had to toss javelins and look on with powerless (so far) rage at the two clashing lines - one with a brown banner, the other with an orange one. Whereas the Yatery nullified their numerical disadvantage with their superior defensive position.

A red, bloody mist veiled Bahris' eyes and mind, he went berserk, he only saw occasional episodes - dead enemies, the rest he saw also ofcourse, but his mind didn't register anything. His instincts replaced it. The mind was but an observer...

Crushed skulls, pierced abdomens, moans of death, but no cries for mercy, cold-blooded murder, a pile of corpses... Did I kill them all? asked Bahris. Or did the others kill them as well? Death, death, death, death, warcries, blood, a blunt object...

Silence, darkness...

---

Darkness. Death? Is this death? But where are the gods? Should I not go to the heaven of warriors, the Irhad?

Noises? Gods speaking? Voices seem human... Harkan. Is it the hissing dialect of the Tehry, or?

Tehry take no prisoners. Or will they sacrifice me?

Those were the thoughts of Bahris.

Regardless, the dialect was the one to which Bahris was used to.

He tried to ask "What is happening", but all that he said was a weak moan. He felt pain, pain, pain...

Darkness.

And nightmares.

---

An old man with a knife, Bahris killed him but he simply came back together, laughing and hissing, attacking again and again...

A hellish rider, in black and red clothes that are made of an odd metal... It was the God of Darkness, Perad - Contempt. He laughs, he kills the old man, and Bahris shakes his hand... but Perad bites it off, and they fight, they fight, and all falls apart between them again...

Corpses, pyramids of skulls, blood, the ruined hanakad - but who ruined it? Who did all this?

Blood, darkness rises over the world, over the hills and over the rivers, darkness and blood, and contempt, and hatred, and scorn, thousands of dead people...

A lonely veteran stood, crying in a huge, sprawling, hellish city...

"Who did all this?" - asked Bahris - "Who?"

"YOU! YOU! YOU!" - shouted the veteran, whom Bahris recognized as Airus, a friend of his and a Swordlord's pupil, lashed out at him with a knife, but not laughing, but cursing, cursing the name of Bahris, Bahris the Evil, Bahris who...

...ruined everything, who destroyed the good old days. Who built and razed cities, whose troops killed and built pyramids of blood, the hanakad he destroyed as well, and it was replaced by this city, this city that he built.

The veteran was powerless. Instead of the hand that Perad bit off, there is an iron glove, and with it, Bahris killed the veteran, killed everybody around him, listened to false allegations and judged unjustly, and killed, for there was nobody, nobody left to stand against him... Now that he became a god.

"BAHRIS!"

---

"Bahris, awaken!" - shouted Nilda - "Bahris, live!"

Bahris opened his eyes. He looked on his right hand. It was still there. It was not too late yet.

"Mother..."

"Bahris!" - the mother cried, but it was tears of happiness.

Her son survived. He was injured by the Tehry, but fought heroically, until falling unconscious due to a hit with a mace. But he survived.

And he was ready to receive a sword. Bahris became a Swordlord's pupil.

That Swordlord was called Airus. He still was young.

So was Bahris. But deep inside, he felt that he was much older then any other man. He saw the future. He did not know why, but this dream he remembered and believed in.

But he hoped that gods were just testing him. That they will let him do things... differently if he really tries.

To be continued.