alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
OOC: Sheep, shut up 
You've been spamming this thread for the last 2 pages with your Mr. X remarks 
You've been spamming this thread for the last 2 pages with your Mr. X remarks 
NES2 V - The Great Game.
- Thread starter das
- Start date
- Status
Sheep
Orange Shrooms!
The words of the righteous will not be silenced
- Mr X.
- Mr X.
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
OOC: Sheep, you'll be silenced or I'll report you to the moderators... 
Reno
The Studio Ghibli Fanatic
alex994 said:OOC: Sheep, you'll be silenced or I'll report you to the moderators...
Seconded.
MjM
Deity
dont spoil the fun now guys. BTW im the one who go the title fixed. 
Reno
The Studio Ghibli Fanatic
There can only be so much spam.
das
Regeneration In Process
Yes, you could (and andis is right, plus if you have trained them just right now they won't perform as well as battle-hardened troops, even if those troops have inferior training).
Sheep said that:
True, he said that to the "ancient people of Venice", but... Maybe he's trying to rally the Assyrian-rite Christians to rise up in North Mesopatamia? Or is he playing the... *gasp* Samnites?!
(tune in for the next update of NES2 V for the real identity of Mr. X... or not!)
The time of the Magyars (in the commonly-accepted-outside-of-Hungary meaning) has passed long ago, IMHO...
SO YOU ARE THE ONE! *has polar bears arrest MjM and beat him up*
Honestly enough, though, I do think that Sheep has been going rather overboard here...
IC:
From: Tukulor
To: Venice
We don't recognize you! Stupid heathens... Where the hell is Venice anyway?
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Here is the final part to my story. Hmm, that sure took long enough to finish.
Cyrus and Darius Military Academy, Part Three
He looked at the placard by the first door. It said, “Colonial Warfare, and Political Applications to Warfare.” Opening the door and sitting in the rear of the room, Mustafa heard the unmistakable arrogant but educated tone of a British Federate. “Now, when on a campaign, particularly as an occupying aggressor, it is likely that you can and shall encounter local resistance. Guerilla warfare has reduced and decimated modern, well trained colonial armies to shreds of it’s former self. Now one might wonder what the most effective course of action against such irregular resistance might be. Suggestions?”
“No Aaban, you do not round up all the villagers and immediately execute them. *sigh*
This course of action would only make resistance more fervent. Your first tactic is negotiation. We’ll cover Local Diplomacy on Wednesday, but please write down that fact. The local populace is not your enemy, you must make them realize it as well. However, in many cases an ethnic group or political faction shall pledge undying violence and continue the fight, even after all armies have left the field. In this case, immediately find the leadership of the group opposing them…and immediately capture or execute them, depending on the specific scenario. An opposing force may have thousands of untrained peasants to throw at you, but kill one man in the command structure and they are all paralyzed! Please right down that fact. Now…"
Mustafa left the classroom. “I should have been taking notes too, that lecture was very informative.” Continuing down the hall, he saw that another class was in session. The card on the wall read “Tactical Strategy and Logistics.” Walking inside the room, Mustafa heard the heavily accented voice of a German career soldier, probably a colonel or brigadier for hire, or on half pay, or retired. There were some in every nation, at least one was being put to use here.
“Now..there is one thing you must always remember…do not micromanage your campaign! If you are busy determining the exact weight in centigrams of the biscuit that your soldiers are going to eat on the 3rd day of battle, and checking and rechecking the operational readiness of the horses and cannon of each unit, you will fail, do you hear me? UTTER FAILURE! Brilliant men, geniuses, matchless in their profession and knowledge of tactics and strategic planning, have been exhausted and humiliated in defeat because they overplanned. Quartermasters and medics were invented for a reason, to take care of the things that are not important enough for you to handle! Do not worry about the minutia. Worry about the bigger things, like how to outmaneuver your opponent, how to cut his rails, take his cities, demoralize his armies. Now, despite what I have told you, there is always one tactical element that you must perpetually keep in mind.
Silence in the classroom.
The German pounded the table to emphasize his point. “Never…*pound*…ever…*pound*…overextend…*pound*…your…*pound*… SUPPLY LINES!! If there is one sure route to failure, it is allowing some blundering amateur of a citizen soldier the opportunity to cut your supply lines! You must always allow for a secure route of communication and supply back to your main headquarters. If you become isolated, you will become DECIMATED! Ach, how many good men have made a simple mistake and been destroyed!!! DESTROYED!! As the German was now clearly ranting, Mustafa left the room. “Perhaps I should let the quartermaster determine the rationing this week,” he said to himself.
Coming to the last room of the hallway, he knew who taught in this class. The smells of sulphur, phosphorus, and melting iron wafted out of the room, and it was hot. Quite hot, in fact. Hot enough to make Mustafa sweat, and it takes a great deal of heat to make a Persian sweat. The singed placard on the door read simply, “Military Engineering.” “Ah, excellent! This is Suleiman’s class after all!” Walking inside (But not before removing his coat, was it ever hot in there!) he saw an interesting sight. In various states of assembly or disassembly were swords, pistols, rifles, several cannons, cannonballs, bombs, and one single, 7 foot long steel tipped pike.
Sitting in the corner, in a near-collapsing pile of gears and barrels, sat what appeared to be a gun attached to an oversized tripod. The card above it said, “Prototype: Self Repeating Machinery Gun, Designed by Colonel Ahmed Suleiman, Islamic Army of Persia. “Magnificent,” gasped Mustafa, (not from surprise but from heat) “Now tell me what the hell it does and maybe I’ll be impressed!” Turning from a crowded bunch of cadets huddled over some type of schematic, Colonel Suleiman stood, smiling. “It’s supposed to fire a constant stream of bullets, but the materials we have here just aren’t advanced enough yet to make it work right. The only thing it fires now is a constant stream of problems.” “Hmm, so until you’ve got your magical self-firing gun ready, what else have you been working on?”
“I am quite glad you asked, Mustafa. Mostly I’ve been teaching these cadets the basics of weapons design, fortification construction, and different types and applications in artillery. Several of our breakthroughs have been in projectiles, actually.” Mustafa, who hadn’t really been listening up until now, had his interest peaked. “Oh really? I can always use better cannons…tell me what you’ve done!” “Well, at first we worked on refining the gun barrel itself, to allow for increased distance and projection.” We realized, however, that until a large weaponry forge can be built, we’re not going to be able to forge cannons by ourselves. After that though, we decided to work on cannonballs.”
“What could possibly make a cannonball more effective than it already is? It’s a round ball, it hits people, it sometimes explodes…” “Well, we realized our deficiency in this area when we knew we only used two types of projectiles, Allah’s Needles for anti-personnel and anti-cavalry operations, and the standard ball for firing in massed formations. We wanted to combine the effectiveness of Allah’s Needles with the power and range of the standard shell, so we weakened the structure of the ball so that it would burst into shrapnel upon impact.” “My my…talk about good crowd control!” “I know, and also excellent for peppering a large target area with heavy fire. Last month though, we had an amazing breakthrough, totally by accident! That poor idiot Pahlavi, (He never was very smart you know.) tried mixing potassium and water “just to see what happened.” “But that would mean oh no…how much did he use?” “Enough to blow him to incredibly small pieces. But in the light of the boy’s combustion, I had an excellent idea. If that kind of explosion were able to be contained…and put inside a cannonball…the explosion could wipe out an entire column!”
“I don’t exactly follow you Suleiman, perhaps this heat is getting to you. How could you possibly put that kind of explosion inside a cannonball?” “I thought the same thing, but then…(he rummaged through some papers and gears) we came up with this!” He handed Mustafa a small cannonball. “Hmm, this is quite light, compared to a normal one. Why?” “I hollowed out two chambers within the cannonball, and made the outer structure strong enough to not explode upon being fired, but strong enough to break apart on impact. In one chamber I put potassium, or some other chemical that reacts violently, and in the other, water! When the cannonball impacts, the shrapnel will go everywhere. But more importantly, the potassium and water will mix, causing a massive explosion!”
“Suleiman?”
“Yes, Mustafa?”
“I know I said this when you invented Allah’s Needles, but..”
“Yes?”
“You’re a genius.”
“I know.”
Cyrus and Darius Military Academy, Part Three
He looked at the placard by the first door. It said, “Colonial Warfare, and Political Applications to Warfare.” Opening the door and sitting in the rear of the room, Mustafa heard the unmistakable arrogant but educated tone of a British Federate. “Now, when on a campaign, particularly as an occupying aggressor, it is likely that you can and shall encounter local resistance. Guerilla warfare has reduced and decimated modern, well trained colonial armies to shreds of it’s former self. Now one might wonder what the most effective course of action against such irregular resistance might be. Suggestions?”
“No Aaban, you do not round up all the villagers and immediately execute them. *sigh*
This course of action would only make resistance more fervent. Your first tactic is negotiation. We’ll cover Local Diplomacy on Wednesday, but please write down that fact. The local populace is not your enemy, you must make them realize it as well. However, in many cases an ethnic group or political faction shall pledge undying violence and continue the fight, even after all armies have left the field. In this case, immediately find the leadership of the group opposing them…and immediately capture or execute them, depending on the specific scenario. An opposing force may have thousands of untrained peasants to throw at you, but kill one man in the command structure and they are all paralyzed! Please right down that fact. Now…"
Mustafa left the classroom. “I should have been taking notes too, that lecture was very informative.” Continuing down the hall, he saw that another class was in session. The card on the wall read “Tactical Strategy and Logistics.” Walking inside the room, Mustafa heard the heavily accented voice of a German career soldier, probably a colonel or brigadier for hire, or on half pay, or retired. There were some in every nation, at least one was being put to use here.
“Now..there is one thing you must always remember…do not micromanage your campaign! If you are busy determining the exact weight in centigrams of the biscuit that your soldiers are going to eat on the 3rd day of battle, and checking and rechecking the operational readiness of the horses and cannon of each unit, you will fail, do you hear me? UTTER FAILURE! Brilliant men, geniuses, matchless in their profession and knowledge of tactics and strategic planning, have been exhausted and humiliated in defeat because they overplanned. Quartermasters and medics were invented for a reason, to take care of the things that are not important enough for you to handle! Do not worry about the minutia. Worry about the bigger things, like how to outmaneuver your opponent, how to cut his rails, take his cities, demoralize his armies. Now, despite what I have told you, there is always one tactical element that you must perpetually keep in mind.
Silence in the classroom.
The German pounded the table to emphasize his point. “Never…*pound*…ever…*pound*…overextend…*pound*…your…*pound*… SUPPLY LINES!! If there is one sure route to failure, it is allowing some blundering amateur of a citizen soldier the opportunity to cut your supply lines! You must always allow for a secure route of communication and supply back to your main headquarters. If you become isolated, you will become DECIMATED! Ach, how many good men have made a simple mistake and been destroyed!!! DESTROYED!! As the German was now clearly ranting, Mustafa left the room. “Perhaps I should let the quartermaster determine the rationing this week,” he said to himself.
Coming to the last room of the hallway, he knew who taught in this class. The smells of sulphur, phosphorus, and melting iron wafted out of the room, and it was hot. Quite hot, in fact. Hot enough to make Mustafa sweat, and it takes a great deal of heat to make a Persian sweat. The singed placard on the door read simply, “Military Engineering.” “Ah, excellent! This is Suleiman’s class after all!” Walking inside (But not before removing his coat, was it ever hot in there!) he saw an interesting sight. In various states of assembly or disassembly were swords, pistols, rifles, several cannons, cannonballs, bombs, and one single, 7 foot long steel tipped pike.
Sitting in the corner, in a near-collapsing pile of gears and barrels, sat what appeared to be a gun attached to an oversized tripod. The card above it said, “Prototype: Self Repeating Machinery Gun, Designed by Colonel Ahmed Suleiman, Islamic Army of Persia. “Magnificent,” gasped Mustafa, (not from surprise but from heat) “Now tell me what the hell it does and maybe I’ll be impressed!” Turning from a crowded bunch of cadets huddled over some type of schematic, Colonel Suleiman stood, smiling. “It’s supposed to fire a constant stream of bullets, but the materials we have here just aren’t advanced enough yet to make it work right. The only thing it fires now is a constant stream of problems.” “Hmm, so until you’ve got your magical self-firing gun ready, what else have you been working on?”
“I am quite glad you asked, Mustafa. Mostly I’ve been teaching these cadets the basics of weapons design, fortification construction, and different types and applications in artillery. Several of our breakthroughs have been in projectiles, actually.” Mustafa, who hadn’t really been listening up until now, had his interest peaked. “Oh really? I can always use better cannons…tell me what you’ve done!” “Well, at first we worked on refining the gun barrel itself, to allow for increased distance and projection.” We realized, however, that until a large weaponry forge can be built, we’re not going to be able to forge cannons by ourselves. After that though, we decided to work on cannonballs.”
“What could possibly make a cannonball more effective than it already is? It’s a round ball, it hits people, it sometimes explodes…” “Well, we realized our deficiency in this area when we knew we only used two types of projectiles, Allah’s Needles for anti-personnel and anti-cavalry operations, and the standard ball for firing in massed formations. We wanted to combine the effectiveness of Allah’s Needles with the power and range of the standard shell, so we weakened the structure of the ball so that it would burst into shrapnel upon impact.” “My my…talk about good crowd control!” “I know, and also excellent for peppering a large target area with heavy fire. Last month though, we had an amazing breakthrough, totally by accident! That poor idiot Pahlavi, (He never was very smart you know.) tried mixing potassium and water “just to see what happened.” “But that would mean oh no…how much did he use?” “Enough to blow him to incredibly small pieces. But in the light of the boy’s combustion, I had an excellent idea. If that kind of explosion were able to be contained…and put inside a cannonball…the explosion could wipe out an entire column!”
“I don’t exactly follow you Suleiman, perhaps this heat is getting to you. How could you possibly put that kind of explosion inside a cannonball?” “I thought the same thing, but then…(he rummaged through some papers and gears) we came up with this!” He handed Mustafa a small cannonball. “Hmm, this is quite light, compared to a normal one. Why?” “I hollowed out two chambers within the cannonball, and made the outer structure strong enough to not explode upon being fired, but strong enough to break apart on impact. In one chamber I put potassium, or some other chemical that reacts violently, and in the other, water! When the cannonball impacts, the shrapnel will go everywhere. But more importantly, the potassium and water will mix, causing a massive explosion!”
“Suleiman?”
“Yes, Mustafa?”
“I know I said this when you invented Allah’s Needles, but..”
“Yes?”
“You’re a genius.”
“I know.”
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
Weren't explosive shells invented in the early 19th century OTL? 1823? So they should be available to anyone with "Early industrial age" tech level
And using Potassium in battlefield conditions!
@ the cost and danger!
On the other hand your stories are pretty damn awesome.
While we are discussing tech; das - has anything similar to a certain very important book published 1859 OTL been produced here? Baring in mind how many other people were close...
And using Potassium in battlefield conditions!
@ the cost and danger! On the other hand your stories are pretty damn awesome.
While we are discussing tech; das - has anything similar to a certain very important book published 1859 OTL been produced here? Baring in mind how many other people were close...
das
Regeneration In Process
Btw, where is the first part? Its probably just me, but I don't seem to be able to find it anywhere...
EDIT:
Not quite... But due to a much longer Enlightenment (in a way it still isn't interrupted), there does exist a philosophical school of "Evolutionists", who, apart from just their evolution-based philosophy (well, what else?), also believe in reforms politically and "survival of the most adaptable" in biology. But it's biological aspects aren't very explored nor are they widely-known, so I guess that in the end, the answer to your question is "no".
EDIT:
Not quite... But due to a much longer Enlightenment (in a way it still isn't interrupted), there does exist a philosophical school of "Evolutionists", who, apart from just their evolution-based philosophy (well, what else?), also believe in reforms politically and "survival of the most adaptable" in biology. But it's biological aspects aren't very explored nor are they widely-known, so I guess that in the end, the answer to your question is "no".
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
no eh? Well unfortuately I and my nation are not in any position to work on that . Its lack will probably cause a significant retardation of biological and medical science down the line though...
. Its lack will probably cause a significant retardation of biological and medical science down the line though...
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Part one is located on post 364, unless I'm mistaken.
The Persians probably have not had access to explosive shells in the past, due to their distance from European arms factories. They're just now discovering for themselves these type of innovations. But thanks for the info.
And as for potassium under battlefield conditions, the Military High Command realized that every 1 in 1000 (or so) shells did explode before impact, usually destroying the cannon and killing the gunner, but the potency of the weapon was deemed to be worth the risk.
They're already being called "Flames of Mohammed" by the people.
The Persians probably have not had access to explosive shells in the past, due to their distance from European arms factories. They're just now discovering for themselves these type of innovations. But thanks for the info.
And as for potassium under battlefield conditions, the Military High Command realized that every 1 in 1000 (or so) shells did explode before impact, usually destroying the cannon and killing the gunner, but the potency of the weapon was deemed to be worth the risk.
They're already being called "Flames of Mohammed" by the people.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Oh, and orders will be sent as soon as I receive a PM from someone. They might take a while to interpret das.
EDIT: Oh, forget it, I'm sending them now.
EDIT: Oh, forget it, I'm sending them now.
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
Fair enough; but you better start attacking people* soon and not stockpile the potassium 
(will become highly explosive if stored for longer than 6 months!) and...
"flames of Mohammed" huh?
...actully the cool naming of it has convinced me not to point out the technical problems that make it
So shutting up now and have fun! Allahu Akbar!
*Note when I say attack people I mean people who are not me.
@Thlayli: sending orders in Arabic may getting a bit too into character
(will become highly explosive if stored for longer than 6 months!) and..."flames of Mohammed" huh?
...actully the cool naming of it has convinced me not to point out the technical problems that make it
Spoiler :
*Note when I say attack people I mean people who are not me.
@Thlayli: sending orders in Arabic may getting a bit too into character
das
Regeneration In Process
Chances are, someone will popularize these ideas down the line anyway...
Finmaster
The White Ghost
- Joined
- Apr 13, 2003
- Messages
- 2,716
Josef Leu, the new dictator of Switzerland, was spending his vacation in his summer cottage just outside Geneva, when a big man rushed into his room.
"JOSEF!"
"Yes, my leash?"
"Is everything set for my coming?"
"Well sire, I think we should really wait for a few more years. Bulking up, and so forth.. but don't worry, I'll keep everything set for you!"
"Well done, Josef, well done. You have taken power in Switzerland quite smoothly. You have developed a friendship with France, and you have even kept the cantons happy! Everything is going as planned. Everything has happened just as I predicted. Now.. there is one thing you need to do. I want the capital of Switzerland to be.."
Suddenly, the discussion between these two men was interrupted by an opening door. Mauritz, Josef Leu's closest advisor stepped in. The big man next to Josef quickly jumped behind a curtain.
"Who was that?" asked Mauritz, who could see a big shadow disappearing behind the curtain.
"What are you talking about? There is no-one except you and me!" responded Josef nervously.
Mauritz was about to say something when a big character came from behind the curtain where he had hidden.
"Hello, Mauritz!" said the big character with a soft voice.
"H-how do you know my name?" asked Josef's servants. He was terrified; for the looks of the character was not quite as soft as his voice. He was more than two meters tall and wore dark clothes - and still you could see his huge muscles. And even if you couldn't, you'd still know that he was strong, for he was carrying an iron sword that looked heavier than any sword Mauritz had ever seen. In his head, the character wore an ancient barbarian helmet. But the most terrifyinf thing about him were his eyes. You could not quite tell what the colour of those glowing eyes were, but the glow you could see and sense in them was not from this world, Mauritz was certain of it.
Suddenly, Mauritz realized that he had seen the character before! "Wait, I know who you are! You are.."
"Oh, I know everything about you!" the character interrupted, keeping his voice and soft as it had been before. "That is my job, you see. Your job, meanwhile, is to NOT know anything about ME. I'm afraid you already know too much. And be assured, if there is an afterlife, I'm sure you will burn in hell."
And before Josef reacted to stop him, his tall friend has taken his sword and smashed the head of Mauritz wide open.
"That was uncalled for!" yelled Josef. "He was my most trusted advisor!"
"Did you know that he cheats his wife with a Genevan hooker? Never trust a man who cheats on his wife! Anyway, I apologize for the inconvinience I may have caused. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to move on! We will talk again. And don't forget what I told you about the capital! It's vital!"
"Ah yes, what for do you want to change our capital?"
The dark character smiled. "Economy!" he said, and blinked. Josef knew that there was more to it.
***
"As you know", Josef started speaking to the growd from his palace in Geneva, "Bern is not a very big city. And the more centralized our government has become, the more suitable it would be for the capital to also be a bureaucratic center. Furthermore, as our trading with France is assumed to increase, there would be capitals closer to France more suitable for this kind of economic developement.
That is why the capital of Switzerland shall from now on be Geneva!"
Some people cheered, some didn't know what to think. Josef was one of them. The dictator looked up the skies and noticed dark clouds in the horizon. And there were dark clouds in his head, too; when Mauritz died, he had for the first time seen the brutality of the man who was supposed to lead Switzerland to greatness.
Where will this end.. he asked himself. In fire, he heard his mind answering.
"JOSEF!"
"Yes, my leash?"
"Is everything set for my coming?"
"Well sire, I think we should really wait for a few more years. Bulking up, and so forth.. but don't worry, I'll keep everything set for you!"
"Well done, Josef, well done. You have taken power in Switzerland quite smoothly. You have developed a friendship with France, and you have even kept the cantons happy! Everything is going as planned. Everything has happened just as I predicted. Now.. there is one thing you need to do. I want the capital of Switzerland to be.."
Suddenly, the discussion between these two men was interrupted by an opening door. Mauritz, Josef Leu's closest advisor stepped in. The big man next to Josef quickly jumped behind a curtain.
"Who was that?" asked Mauritz, who could see a big shadow disappearing behind the curtain.
"What are you talking about? There is no-one except you and me!" responded Josef nervously.
Mauritz was about to say something when a big character came from behind the curtain where he had hidden.
"Hello, Mauritz!" said the big character with a soft voice.
"H-how do you know my name?" asked Josef's servants. He was terrified; for the looks of the character was not quite as soft as his voice. He was more than two meters tall and wore dark clothes - and still you could see his huge muscles. And even if you couldn't, you'd still know that he was strong, for he was carrying an iron sword that looked heavier than any sword Mauritz had ever seen. In his head, the character wore an ancient barbarian helmet. But the most terrifyinf thing about him were his eyes. You could not quite tell what the colour of those glowing eyes were, but the glow you could see and sense in them was not from this world, Mauritz was certain of it.
Suddenly, Mauritz realized that he had seen the character before! "Wait, I know who you are! You are.."
"Oh, I know everything about you!" the character interrupted, keeping his voice and soft as it had been before. "That is my job, you see. Your job, meanwhile, is to NOT know anything about ME. I'm afraid you already know too much. And be assured, if there is an afterlife, I'm sure you will burn in hell."
And before Josef reacted to stop him, his tall friend has taken his sword and smashed the head of Mauritz wide open.
"That was uncalled for!" yelled Josef. "He was my most trusted advisor!"
"Did you know that he cheats his wife with a Genevan hooker? Never trust a man who cheats on his wife! Anyway, I apologize for the inconvinience I may have caused. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to move on! We will talk again. And don't forget what I told you about the capital! It's vital!"
"Ah yes, what for do you want to change our capital?"
The dark character smiled. "Economy!" he said, and blinked. Josef knew that there was more to it.
***
"As you know", Josef started speaking to the growd from his palace in Geneva, "Bern is not a very big city. And the more centralized our government has become, the more suitable it would be for the capital to also be a bureaucratic center. Furthermore, as our trading with France is assumed to increase, there would be capitals closer to France more suitable for this kind of economic developement.
That is why the capital of Switzerland shall from now on be Geneva!"
Some people cheered, some didn't know what to think. Josef was one of them. The dictator looked up the skies and noticed dark clouds in the horizon. And there were dark clouds in his head, too; when Mauritz died, he had for the first time seen the brutality of the man who was supposed to lead Switzerland to greatness.
Where will this end.. he asked himself. In fire, he heard his mind answering.
Finmaster
The White Ghost
- Joined
- Apr 13, 2003
- Messages
- 2,716
From Switzerland
To all Italians:
Altough we do not intent to interfere in your disputes, we wish to state that in our opinion, Carlo Emanuele is the only worthy king to the Italian throne!
To France:
As our friendship has developed, we'd also like to develope our trading! We propose a mutual trading pact that will remove all customs from our borders, to strenghten both of our economy!
To all Italians:
Altough we do not intent to interfere in your disputes, we wish to state that in our opinion, Carlo Emanuele is the only worthy king to the Italian throne!
To France:
As our friendship has developed, we'd also like to develope our trading! We propose a mutual trading pact that will remove all customs from our borders, to strenghten both of our economy!
das
Regeneration In Process
From: Carlists (Italy)
To: All Swiss Cantons
We wish to state that in our opinion, Josef Leu's actions are the only correct actions that could be, at the time, taken in Switzerland. Trully he is a great man.
To: All Swiss Cantons
We wish to state that in our opinion, Josef Leu's actions are the only correct actions that could be, at the time, taken in Switzerland. Trully he is a great man.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Thanks for the update on the cannonballs Dis, the Flames of Mohammed will probably have the potassium diluted with gunpowder, to reduce the chance of catastrophic failure.
Technical impossibilities? Allah knows NO technical impossibilities!
Anyway, orders sent.
Technical impossibilities? Allah knows NO technical impossibilities!
Anyway, orders sent.
silver 2039
Deity
- Joined
- Jul 26, 2003
- Messages
- 16,208
Samarkand
Old Madrassa
“Dig faster!” shouted Halil Pasha to the laboring workers “In the name of Allah dig! The Khan wants us done before sun down!”
Halil Pasha was the religious advisor to the Great Khan Karamurad. Normally sporting flamboyantly colored silk robes he was at this moment standing next to a deep hole where dozens of laborers were excavating, and was caked head to toe with dust.
Shouting more at the workers he turned around to watch Ali Bey the Mufti of Samarkand coming down the road towards him
“What is the meaning of this” he roared in anger “How dare you desecrate this holy place! Do you know what is here!” he screamed his veins bulging “The grave of Kaffel-Shashi!”
Halil Pasha glanced at the small dirty and unassuming building, directly next to where they were digging. “And there!” shouted the Mufti “The Mui-Mubarak madrassa. The hair of Prophet Muhammad is continued there!”
Once more Pasha glanced at another fairly dirty and run down building. The Mufti continued his raving, “In the middle of this holy place you dare to dig and desecrate? Allah will strike you down for your hearsay!”
“And the Khan will strike you down for your insolence” responded Pasha. “I am here on orders of Great Khan Karamurad himself.”
Ali Bey looked stunned “But why does the Khan do this? He is a devout man.”
Halil Pasha smirked “I wish I knew myself. He simply instructed me to oversee the digging in this exact location and I heard and obeyed. I advise you to do the same.” The Mufti was silent and both men watched the workers digging. The sun sank lower in the sky and the darkening shadows of the evening were thrown across the madrassa courtyard.
Suddenly thundering hooves were heard a dozen horsemen poured into the courtyard. At the head was Great Khan Karamurad himself in all his glory. He was a tall man, and fair; at his side was a cruel curved scimitar and a pistol in a holster.
He wore a scarlet robe the color of blood. The horsemen behind him were similarly armed and one of them carried the Turkmenistani flag and another the Imperial Flag of the Muradid Dynasty. Ali Bey threw himself prostate on the ground in front of the Khan’s horse as he dismounted. Karamurad looked amused glancing at Halil Pasha he said “Who is this?” he asked “Ali Bey Mufti of Samarkand” responded Halil Pasha grinning “I believe he was singing your praises a few moments ago” At this Ali Bey whimpered
“Stand up Mufti,” said Karamurad sternly “You are the supreme religious authority in all of Samarkand. I am not some Chinese Emperor who needs to be kow-tow’ed to. A man of God should bow only to God himself. Stand up” Ali Bey stood up slowly gazing at Khan Karamurad in wonder.
“This hole is not so deep yet.” Karamurad said turning his attention to Pasha. “I want this done before sun down”
“Would you like me to whip them?” asked Pasha “No, I have a better idea” replied Karamurad. He discarded his scarlet robe and jumped into the hole where the rest of the men toiled. Picking up a spade he shouted “Come Pasha join me! You can buy new robes later”
Sighing Halil Pasha jumped into the hole getting a clod of dirt thrown at his face in the process.
“May I ask why we are digging here?” said Pasha
“Last night I received a sign. At first my sleep was disturbed and restless, I was unsure of our path. However my thoughts continued to return to Caliph Othman. You know of him?” asked Karamurad
“Of course” replied Halil Pasha surprised “Who doesn’t? I remember my mother telling me the story. He was the third Caliph, he had the sacred verses Allah gave to Muhammad memorized. To prevent disputes over which verses were truly divine he had a definitive version of the Koran written in 651, a mere 19 years after Muhammad’s death. He made five copies of these originals, all are said to have been destroyed other than a partial copy in Topkapi Palace in Istanbul.”
Karamurad nodded “That is part of the story.”
Pasha looked stunned “You mean there is more to it?”
“Yes” said Karamurad his voice low “For the past month I have been investigating into what happened to the other copies of the Koran. I have visit every library across the Middle East and during the Haj I was spending most of my time investigating rather than worshipping but Allah will forgive me. Now you know that Caliph Othman was murdered by a rebellious mob and his murder percolated the Shia-Sunni divide correct?”
“Yes” said Halil Pasha “And I would imagine that the remainders of the Korans were destroyed in the attack.”
“That is where you are wrong,” said Karamuard triumphantly “As the mob entered his palace and killed him he was in fact reading the Koran. The crowd beat him brutally and his blood spilt on the Koran staining the pages. The crowd however horrified by the consequences of their actions took flight without damaging it. A servant then took the book and gave it to Caliph Ali successor of Caliph Othman. The Caliph took it with him to Kufah where it stayed for several hundred years until my very own ancestor Tamerlane laid waste to the area. He found the Koran there in Kufah and took it with him to Samarkand, the glorious capital of his empire. However it seems that in the turmoil of the past several hundred years between the Afghans, Safavids, Mughals and others the building containing the Koran was burnt. However the Koran was housed in a special vault underground where only the Mufti was allowed to open. I believe we are digging on top of it.”
Halil Pasha dropped his spade in shock as the enormity of what had been said hit him. “Bu…but…that would mean if it still existed….” He stammered
“It would be like the Holy Grail of Islam. The oldest Koran in existence. The holiest article of Islam. And we are standing right on top of it."
Old Madrassa
“Dig faster!” shouted Halil Pasha to the laboring workers “In the name of Allah dig! The Khan wants us done before sun down!”
Halil Pasha was the religious advisor to the Great Khan Karamurad. Normally sporting flamboyantly colored silk robes he was at this moment standing next to a deep hole where dozens of laborers were excavating, and was caked head to toe with dust.
Shouting more at the workers he turned around to watch Ali Bey the Mufti of Samarkand coming down the road towards him
“What is the meaning of this” he roared in anger “How dare you desecrate this holy place! Do you know what is here!” he screamed his veins bulging “The grave of Kaffel-Shashi!”
Halil Pasha glanced at the small dirty and unassuming building, directly next to where they were digging. “And there!” shouted the Mufti “The Mui-Mubarak madrassa. The hair of Prophet Muhammad is continued there!”
Once more Pasha glanced at another fairly dirty and run down building. The Mufti continued his raving, “In the middle of this holy place you dare to dig and desecrate? Allah will strike you down for your hearsay!”
“And the Khan will strike you down for your insolence” responded Pasha. “I am here on orders of Great Khan Karamurad himself.”
Ali Bey looked stunned “But why does the Khan do this? He is a devout man.”
Halil Pasha smirked “I wish I knew myself. He simply instructed me to oversee the digging in this exact location and I heard and obeyed. I advise you to do the same.” The Mufti was silent and both men watched the workers digging. The sun sank lower in the sky and the darkening shadows of the evening were thrown across the madrassa courtyard.
Suddenly thundering hooves were heard a dozen horsemen poured into the courtyard. At the head was Great Khan Karamurad himself in all his glory. He was a tall man, and fair; at his side was a cruel curved scimitar and a pistol in a holster.
He wore a scarlet robe the color of blood. The horsemen behind him were similarly armed and one of them carried the Turkmenistani flag and another the Imperial Flag of the Muradid Dynasty. Ali Bey threw himself prostate on the ground in front of the Khan’s horse as he dismounted. Karamurad looked amused glancing at Halil Pasha he said “Who is this?” he asked “Ali Bey Mufti of Samarkand” responded Halil Pasha grinning “I believe he was singing your praises a few moments ago” At this Ali Bey whimpered
“Stand up Mufti,” said Karamurad sternly “You are the supreme religious authority in all of Samarkand. I am not some Chinese Emperor who needs to be kow-tow’ed to. A man of God should bow only to God himself. Stand up” Ali Bey stood up slowly gazing at Khan Karamurad in wonder.
“This hole is not so deep yet.” Karamurad said turning his attention to Pasha. “I want this done before sun down”
“Would you like me to whip them?” asked Pasha “No, I have a better idea” replied Karamurad. He discarded his scarlet robe and jumped into the hole where the rest of the men toiled. Picking up a spade he shouted “Come Pasha join me! You can buy new robes later”
Sighing Halil Pasha jumped into the hole getting a clod of dirt thrown at his face in the process.
“May I ask why we are digging here?” said Pasha
“Last night I received a sign. At first my sleep was disturbed and restless, I was unsure of our path. However my thoughts continued to return to Caliph Othman. You know of him?” asked Karamurad
“Of course” replied Halil Pasha surprised “Who doesn’t? I remember my mother telling me the story. He was the third Caliph, he had the sacred verses Allah gave to Muhammad memorized. To prevent disputes over which verses were truly divine he had a definitive version of the Koran written in 651, a mere 19 years after Muhammad’s death. He made five copies of these originals, all are said to have been destroyed other than a partial copy in Topkapi Palace in Istanbul.”
Karamurad nodded “That is part of the story.”
Pasha looked stunned “You mean there is more to it?”
“Yes” said Karamurad his voice low “For the past month I have been investigating into what happened to the other copies of the Koran. I have visit every library across the Middle East and during the Haj I was spending most of my time investigating rather than worshipping but Allah will forgive me. Now you know that Caliph Othman was murdered by a rebellious mob and his murder percolated the Shia-Sunni divide correct?”
“Yes” said Halil Pasha “And I would imagine that the remainders of the Korans were destroyed in the attack.”
“That is where you are wrong,” said Karamuard triumphantly “As the mob entered his palace and killed him he was in fact reading the Koran. The crowd beat him brutally and his blood spilt on the Koran staining the pages. The crowd however horrified by the consequences of their actions took flight without damaging it. A servant then took the book and gave it to Caliph Ali successor of Caliph Othman. The Caliph took it with him to Kufah where it stayed for several hundred years until my very own ancestor Tamerlane laid waste to the area. He found the Koran there in Kufah and took it with him to Samarkand, the glorious capital of his empire. However it seems that in the turmoil of the past several hundred years between the Afghans, Safavids, Mughals and others the building containing the Koran was burnt. However the Koran was housed in a special vault underground where only the Mufti was allowed to open. I believe we are digging on top of it.”
Halil Pasha dropped his spade in shock as the enormity of what had been said hit him. “Bu…but…that would mean if it still existed….” He stammered
“It would be like the Holy Grail of Islam. The oldest Koran in existence. The holiest article of Islam. And we are standing right on top of it."
- Status
