Daftpanzer
canonically ambiguous
*Orders senttx0rs*
The pre-AFSNES I.
- Thread starter das
- Start date
Flavius Aetius
Ruler Of Liguria
- Joined
- Jun 30, 2007
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LightFang, Have you read my PM?
Insane_Panda
Deity
Any plotting will be dealt with harshly. 
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
Any plotting will be dealt with harshly.
Any plotting? I'm glad you can't reach the Avya Ocean then
.
OOC: order sent, god they were a mess! And I feel slightly exhausted after writing many a story for NK...So i'm going to recycle some ideas, especially since I think the Whole Chaos vs Order thing replacing Good vs Evil is simply too intresting 
Amon'Ra
God of the Qahtani[1] Kingdoms and the Nubian peoples.
Derived from a God of the Wind and Waters from the Egyption Pantheon. It was well suited to the Qahtani, masters of Mobile warfare, like the Wind, they would strike an unseen force.
And like the wind buffeting against you, it will disappear with as little warning as it came.
The Wind is also a fickle being, transient, for it cares for little of others. And Amon'Ra was a fickle being, who would not stand for other Gods. And as such the Qahtani acquiesce to his demands and sent those who worshipped other gods to the the Halls of Ma'at, with Ammit the Devourer's Blessing.[2]
Their God was monotheistic, because like the wind he could be chaotic. He could destroy, and he could create. What saved the peoples of Qahtani was that they continued to fullfill their gods wishes. Order was an illusion maintained by those who excercised Power. Thus Qahtani the greatest power, excercised the Greatest illusion. For the Illusionist is always above his own works. And thus the King must be ready to Kill, when he said he would save. Otherwise they cannot maintain their position, and someone who is willing to be chaotic, to be without pattern, will strike. And they will prevail.
[1]Qahtani new name, new leaders
[2] Think of Ammit as an 'Angel' that does really really BAD things for good outcomes.
OOC: For Dark
A brief cult arose over:
A donkey god named Ababababa who rides a fluffy bird and sings rhymes
This was soon exterminated.
Amon'Ra
God of the Qahtani[1] Kingdoms and the Nubian peoples.
Derived from a God of the Wind and Waters from the Egyption Pantheon. It was well suited to the Qahtani, masters of Mobile warfare, like the Wind, they would strike an unseen force.
And like the wind buffeting against you, it will disappear with as little warning as it came.
The Wind is also a fickle being, transient, for it cares for little of others. And Amon'Ra was a fickle being, who would not stand for other Gods. And as such the Qahtani acquiesce to his demands and sent those who worshipped other gods to the the Halls of Ma'at, with Ammit the Devourer's Blessing.[2]
Their God was monotheistic, because like the wind he could be chaotic. He could destroy, and he could create. What saved the peoples of Qahtani was that they continued to fullfill their gods wishes. Order was an illusion maintained by those who excercised Power. Thus Qahtani the greatest power, excercised the Greatest illusion. For the Illusionist is always above his own works. And thus the King must be ready to Kill, when he said he would save. Otherwise they cannot maintain their position, and someone who is willing to be chaotic, to be without pattern, will strike. And they will prevail.
[1]Qahtani new name, new leaders
[2] Think of Ammit as an 'Angel' that does really really BAD things for good outcomes.
OOC: For Dark
A brief cult arose over:
A donkey god named Ababababa who rides a fluffy bird and sings rhymes
This was soon exterminated.
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
And now the post where dis writes short but odd snippets
National Academy of Sciences 14:345-376 (2005)
Abstract:
It is our intention with this paper to re-examine the heretofore standard chronology as regards the establishment of the Samkataka Baddharajya as an independent political entity from the old western city-states. We believe this to be necessary in light of several new archaeological findings in the horn of Africa and other sites, as well as new translations of ancient Hebrew and Nyaryan accounts. We also discuss the implications of our revised chronology on the actions of other polities in the Avya Ocean during the murky period of 3rd to 6th centuries BCE.
Part 4: The Taizz map trove:
The discovery of the bricked up storage room in the southern Arabian peninsular dating back twenty seven centuries has been one of the greatest archaeological treasures of the past generation. The ledgers, accounts, and maps of the spice merchant Amos and his father have offered hard data and invaluable insights into the lives and times of these ancient cultures. There have been many papers published (3,4,9,13,111) about the various items in the trove, but here we intend to focus on Anomalous map 7. This is very different from the normal Israelite papyrus maps with their clear lines and dense annotation still visible after the centuries, instead consisting of dyed plates of fine wood, with the dye fading after a few decades of storage. However recent advances have allowed both the origin of the wood to be pinpointed (19), and the original imagery to be unraveled with the aide of SEM exploration of the microstructure (56), the conclusions and analysis of which we are now able to present here.
Firstly the wood substrate can be localized with a great deal of certainty to South-east Asia, and Swarna Dwipya specifically. The tree would only grow in tropical monsoon climates, and other studies (72, 73) indicate it was not transplanted to other islands, or even moved from the highlands, before the 5th century, long after radiocarbon dating places the creation of this artifact. Secondly, as shown in figure 4.1 the charts on the panels are in Sanskrit and consist of cartographical notation identical in form to contemporary Nyaryan and Somanth charts, and showing the well known city states, reefs and harbours of the Bahulatvan Coast and southern Somanth. What is surprising and relevant about the cartography is that unlike every Old Avyaktaragan map discovered so far is that the notation is not in reference to either Nyayana, Somanth, or Gutja (as the great majority of the maps are) or to one of the Bahulatvan cities (as a few rarities are). None of the cities have the important and sacred zero-zero symbol as their coordinates, instead their annotations for differing latitude, arrival vector, and usual travel times are orientated on a zero-zero city that is not shown on the map. Following the standard computations for Old Avyaktaragan typography places the centrepoint roughly in the western part of the great archipelago. It is also important to note that several of the altitude and star chart annotations are considerably more accurate than contemporary Nyaryan charts as reviewed in (2). Additional Israelite annotation is most likely the work of Amos or his sea captains as they indicate profitable sales or purchases at various Bahulatvan ports.
From this we advance two conclusions; one, that an Old Avyaktaragan culture of technical and cultural sophistication existed in Swarna Dwipya by the 5th century BC, and that civilization considered itself an independent and important society. This contravenes most histories that have Samkataka and associated cities nothing but tiny trading ports at this time. Secondly that despite the well known legends and epic accounts of conflict, the Israelites had at least some peaceful trading relations with even this furthest rim of the Avyaktaragan sphere
Dwipa Adhikaradhya, verse 12
And lo, for just as Paramatman extends and sustains the existence of the infinite universe,
The Jivatman extends beyond the crude physical form, and that which he thinks and touches and makes and hold dear is suffused by his quality of existence, and their lesser lights bound to his own,
Thus the hierarchy of society extends into the hierarchy of objects, and a mans superior may only grasp that which a man has made through the agency of the lesser,
Though the knife is of the serving man, and the serving man of the king, the knife is not of the kings
National Academy of Sciences 14:345-376 (2005)
Abstract:
It is our intention with this paper to re-examine the heretofore standard chronology as regards the establishment of the Samkataka Baddharajya as an independent political entity from the old western city-states. We believe this to be necessary in light of several new archaeological findings in the horn of Africa and other sites, as well as new translations of ancient Hebrew and Nyaryan accounts. We also discuss the implications of our revised chronology on the actions of other polities in the Avya Ocean during the murky period of 3rd to 6th centuries BCE.
Part 4: The Taizz map trove:
The discovery of the bricked up storage room in the southern Arabian peninsular dating back twenty seven centuries has been one of the greatest archaeological treasures of the past generation. The ledgers, accounts, and maps of the spice merchant Amos and his father have offered hard data and invaluable insights into the lives and times of these ancient cultures. There have been many papers published (3,4,9,13,111) about the various items in the trove, but here we intend to focus on Anomalous map 7. This is very different from the normal Israelite papyrus maps with their clear lines and dense annotation still visible after the centuries, instead consisting of dyed plates of fine wood, with the dye fading after a few decades of storage. However recent advances have allowed both the origin of the wood to be pinpointed (19), and the original imagery to be unraveled with the aide of SEM exploration of the microstructure (56), the conclusions and analysis of which we are now able to present here.
Firstly the wood substrate can be localized with a great deal of certainty to South-east Asia, and Swarna Dwipya specifically. The tree would only grow in tropical monsoon climates, and other studies (72, 73) indicate it was not transplanted to other islands, or even moved from the highlands, before the 5th century, long after radiocarbon dating places the creation of this artifact. Secondly, as shown in figure 4.1 the charts on the panels are in Sanskrit and consist of cartographical notation identical in form to contemporary Nyaryan and Somanth charts, and showing the well known city states, reefs and harbours of the Bahulatvan Coast and southern Somanth. What is surprising and relevant about the cartography is that unlike every Old Avyaktaragan map discovered so far is that the notation is not in reference to either Nyayana, Somanth, or Gutja (as the great majority of the maps are) or to one of the Bahulatvan cities (as a few rarities are). None of the cities have the important and sacred zero-zero symbol as their coordinates, instead their annotations for differing latitude, arrival vector, and usual travel times are orientated on a zero-zero city that is not shown on the map. Following the standard computations for Old Avyaktaragan typography places the centrepoint roughly in the western part of the great archipelago. It is also important to note that several of the altitude and star chart annotations are considerably more accurate than contemporary Nyaryan charts as reviewed in (2). Additional Israelite annotation is most likely the work of Amos or his sea captains as they indicate profitable sales or purchases at various Bahulatvan ports.
From this we advance two conclusions; one, that an Old Avyaktaragan culture of technical and cultural sophistication existed in Swarna Dwipya by the 5th century BC, and that civilization considered itself an independent and important society. This contravenes most histories that have Samkataka and associated cities nothing but tiny trading ports at this time. Secondly that despite the well known legends and epic accounts of conflict, the Israelites had at least some peaceful trading relations with even this furthest rim of the Avyaktaragan sphere
Dwipa Adhikaradhya, verse 12
And lo, for just as Paramatman extends and sustains the existence of the infinite universe,
The Jivatman extends beyond the crude physical form, and that which he thinks and touches and makes and hold dear is suffused by his quality of existence, and their lesser lights bound to his own,
Thus the hierarchy of society extends into the hierarchy of objects, and a mans superior may only grasp that which a man has made through the agency of the lesser,
Though the knife is of the serving man, and the serving man of the king, the knife is not of the kings
Daftpanzer
canonically ambiguous
Evening, somewhere in Thracia (south-central Balkans), 500 BC
Darkness begins to fall. The enemy think they’ve been spared fighting today. Little do they know, the hunt has just begun. We creep through the darkening woods. Our Tak[1] moves swiftly and silently. No fear is visible in the men. Just the thrill of the hunt, and the eager anticipation of the blood to come.
This is the wilderness. The untamed lands, far beyond any farm or village. A haunting, frightening place for some. But not for us. Not since the long, cold, hungry days of childhood. When, at barely seven years old, we were first left to fend for ourselves. A gruelling test. But it was nothing compared to the hardships to come.
My mind snaps back to the present. Down in the valley, we spot a campfire, a pale orange glow, surrounded by the glint of enemy spearheads. We move closer, keeping low, crawling through the damp vegetation. Hoyka[2] blesses us. The evening birds flutter in the black branches above, going about their usual business, making no noise to alert the enemy. We nudge ever closer. The tension and excitement are unbearable.
The enemy - just another neighbouring tribe. Perhaps I will even recognise some of their men. I don’t know the reason for this war. I never asked, and I don’t care. The high priest of Odrys declared a blood feud. And I swore by Odrys’ stone[3] that we would spill their blood.
Finally, we get as close as stealth can take us. I give the signal to stop. A hand gesture. Nobody speaks. Nobody has spoken for a long time now. We wait in the dark, listening to the faint chatter of the enemy, carried on the wind. Listening to the crackle of their fire. The faint rustle of leaves. An eternity passes by. All my senses are alive. As my heart beats its way out of my chest, I begin to feel more than a man. I feel I am becoming the forest itself, with a thousand eyes and ears, aware of every movement...
Finally, an ear-splitting sound. The Horn of Odrys[4] bellows out across the valley. It is a soulful sound, a cross between a wolf’s howl and something like the rage of an angry god. It is a sound that can reach inside a man and touch his soul. The enemy are shaken before a blow is struck. But it has a different effect on us. In an instant, we are filled with the spirit of battle, and leap to our feet.
The hunt is over, now the killing begins…
Our Tak is not alone, of course. The others also spring up out of the forest, surrounding the enemy camp. I can’t help but notice that some are a little too far away. The Odan[5] sounded his horn too soon. If I survive this battle, perhaps I may well issue my own challenge for Odan.
Enough of such thoughts. I focus myself. I pick out a target. I lift my spear to my shoulder, hurl it, and draw my knife. I do this seamlessly and without thought. It is a motion I have carried out ten thousand times. The spear hits its mark, embedding itself deep in an enemy shield. The foe is forced to drop it.
We are charging forward now. Behind us, others throw more spears, as my men close in for the blade work. Soon, an enemy soldier is facing me. He looks as scared as he does battle-ready. I parry his blow with my shield. Time slows down now. He exhales. I smell bad wine. I see specks of food in his beard. There are a dozen ways I could get my knife into his neck. I quickly choose one of them.
But too late. An enemy spear thrusts at me from the side. How did this happen? What are my battle-brothers doing? I cannot move out of the way in time. The spearhead slashes across the top of my wrist, and I find myself dropping my knife.
With my other arm, I ram my shield into the first man, knocking him backwards. Then I drop it, and grab for the spear of the second man. All this takes place in an instant. Too fast - I twist awkwardly, and begin to slip on the damp ground. The speartip has already tasted my flesh. It is soon pointing at my heart. My opponent tries to ram it home, as I desperately push back.
(Odrysian grave inscription, circa 500 BC)
Strength. It is sometimes all that saves us from death. Yet it is also strength that put me on the end of this spear. At the innocent age of five, the high priest had a look at me, and said he saw the strength of Odrys in me. I was to follow the path of Lykurza[6]. My father was pleased, and so was I. Little did I know what it really meant…
After surviving a year in the wilderness, then came a thousand agonising battles. Not overseas, not in war, but in my own homeland, against my own brothers. The endless practise battles of our youth. From the ages of eight to fourteen, I was endlessly tested and tormented. I hated it every step of the way. Yet, I also loved it. It was not just the fear of shame and exile that led me to carry on. I wanted to be like the true warriors, those godlike figures who returned from Agea[7] with treasure, fancy armour, and many brave tales to tell…
Now here I am, in my own tale of bravery, and my own test of strength. The spearpoint begins to jab into my chest. I feel pain and pressure, while I keep pushing and pulling at the spear. Finally it snaps. I find myself holding the sharp end, as my opponent suddenly loses his balance and topless over me. Before he hits the ground, I have rammed the cursed spearpoint deep into his belly. A bad wound, but I don’t mind if he suffers. He took me close to defeat, and hurt my pride.
His suffering is short lived, however. My battle-brothers have soon reappeared, and have lopped of his head. By the time I pick up my knife and shield, the battle is already dying down. It is only then I begin to feel pain from the deep cut in my wrist, and the ache of my muscles.
The night descends into a sickly mixture of elation and pain. The men who can still stand are chanting and drinking wine, while the wounded are left to writhe in agony. Only the dead lie still.
We give what help we can to the wounded. The medicine-women will not arrive till daybreak. Then we shall be off again. This was just one night, in one valley. This blood feud is far from over. Much more lies ahead of us…
---
[1] Tak = literally a pack, as in a pack of wolves. A term used to describe a small group of soldiers, under the leadership of the most experienced veterans. During times of war, they are often given complete freedom to move and fight however they wish.
[2] Hoyka = a common Odrysian goddess, guardian of the forest, associated with birds.
[3] Odrys’ stone = the centrepoint of the primitive ‘temple of Odrys’ in Odrysa. The temple is built over the spot where Odrys’s head was buried in the ground. The stone is said to cover the remains.
[4] Horn of Odrys = equivalent of OTL dacian/gallic war-horns
[5] Odan = a commander of a small army, leader of several ‘Taks’ and perhaps a small body of regular troops. It is rare that they command more than a thousand men. The Odan are typically tribal chieftains, or sometimes high priests. In larger battles, several Odans are commanded directly by the King (the title for king is ‘Odrys’, literally carrying on the name of the original Odrys).
[6] Lykurza = semi-mythical founder of later Odrysian warrior traditions, including the extensive training of selected males (and occasional females) from a very young age, somewhat similar to OTL Sparta.
[7] Agea = one of the many names for Greece.
Darkness begins to fall. The enemy think they’ve been spared fighting today. Little do they know, the hunt has just begun. We creep through the darkening woods. Our Tak[1] moves swiftly and silently. No fear is visible in the men. Just the thrill of the hunt, and the eager anticipation of the blood to come.
This is the wilderness. The untamed lands, far beyond any farm or village. A haunting, frightening place for some. But not for us. Not since the long, cold, hungry days of childhood. When, at barely seven years old, we were first left to fend for ourselves. A gruelling test. But it was nothing compared to the hardships to come.
My mind snaps back to the present. Down in the valley, we spot a campfire, a pale orange glow, surrounded by the glint of enemy spearheads. We move closer, keeping low, crawling through the damp vegetation. Hoyka[2] blesses us. The evening birds flutter in the black branches above, going about their usual business, making no noise to alert the enemy. We nudge ever closer. The tension and excitement are unbearable.
The enemy - just another neighbouring tribe. Perhaps I will even recognise some of their men. I don’t know the reason for this war. I never asked, and I don’t care. The high priest of Odrys declared a blood feud. And I swore by Odrys’ stone[3] that we would spill their blood.
Finally, we get as close as stealth can take us. I give the signal to stop. A hand gesture. Nobody speaks. Nobody has spoken for a long time now. We wait in the dark, listening to the faint chatter of the enemy, carried on the wind. Listening to the crackle of their fire. The faint rustle of leaves. An eternity passes by. All my senses are alive. As my heart beats its way out of my chest, I begin to feel more than a man. I feel I am becoming the forest itself, with a thousand eyes and ears, aware of every movement...
Finally, an ear-splitting sound. The Horn of Odrys[4] bellows out across the valley. It is a soulful sound, a cross between a wolf’s howl and something like the rage of an angry god. It is a sound that can reach inside a man and touch his soul. The enemy are shaken before a blow is struck. But it has a different effect on us. In an instant, we are filled with the spirit of battle, and leap to our feet.
The hunt is over, now the killing begins…
Our Tak is not alone, of course. The others also spring up out of the forest, surrounding the enemy camp. I can’t help but notice that some are a little too far away. The Odan[5] sounded his horn too soon. If I survive this battle, perhaps I may well issue my own challenge for Odan.
Enough of such thoughts. I focus myself. I pick out a target. I lift my spear to my shoulder, hurl it, and draw my knife. I do this seamlessly and without thought. It is a motion I have carried out ten thousand times. The spear hits its mark, embedding itself deep in an enemy shield. The foe is forced to drop it.
We are charging forward now. Behind us, others throw more spears, as my men close in for the blade work. Soon, an enemy soldier is facing me. He looks as scared as he does battle-ready. I parry his blow with my shield. Time slows down now. He exhales. I smell bad wine. I see specks of food in his beard. There are a dozen ways I could get my knife into his neck. I quickly choose one of them.
But too late. An enemy spear thrusts at me from the side. How did this happen? What are my battle-brothers doing? I cannot move out of the way in time. The spearhead slashes across the top of my wrist, and I find myself dropping my knife.
With my other arm, I ram my shield into the first man, knocking him backwards. Then I drop it, and grab for the spear of the second man. All this takes place in an instant. Too fast - I twist awkwardly, and begin to slip on the damp ground. The speartip has already tasted my flesh. It is soon pointing at my heart. My opponent tries to ram it home, as I desperately push back.
(Odrysian grave inscription, circa 500 BC)
Strength. It is sometimes all that saves us from death. Yet it is also strength that put me on the end of this spear. At the innocent age of five, the high priest had a look at me, and said he saw the strength of Odrys in me. I was to follow the path of Lykurza[6]. My father was pleased, and so was I. Little did I know what it really meant…
After surviving a year in the wilderness, then came a thousand agonising battles. Not overseas, not in war, but in my own homeland, against my own brothers. The endless practise battles of our youth. From the ages of eight to fourteen, I was endlessly tested and tormented. I hated it every step of the way. Yet, I also loved it. It was not just the fear of shame and exile that led me to carry on. I wanted to be like the true warriors, those godlike figures who returned from Agea[7] with treasure, fancy armour, and many brave tales to tell…
Now here I am, in my own tale of bravery, and my own test of strength. The spearpoint begins to jab into my chest. I feel pain and pressure, while I keep pushing and pulling at the spear. Finally it snaps. I find myself holding the sharp end, as my opponent suddenly loses his balance and topless over me. Before he hits the ground, I have rammed the cursed spearpoint deep into his belly. A bad wound, but I don’t mind if he suffers. He took me close to defeat, and hurt my pride.
His suffering is short lived, however. My battle-brothers have soon reappeared, and have lopped of his head. By the time I pick up my knife and shield, the battle is already dying down. It is only then I begin to feel pain from the deep cut in my wrist, and the ache of my muscles.
The night descends into a sickly mixture of elation and pain. The men who can still stand are chanting and drinking wine, while the wounded are left to writhe in agony. Only the dead lie still.
We give what help we can to the wounded. The medicine-women will not arrive till daybreak. Then we shall be off again. This was just one night, in one valley. This blood feud is far from over. Much more lies ahead of us…
---
[1] Tak = literally a pack, as in a pack of wolves. A term used to describe a small group of soldiers, under the leadership of the most experienced veterans. During times of war, they are often given complete freedom to move and fight however they wish.
[2] Hoyka = a common Odrysian goddess, guardian of the forest, associated with birds.
[3] Odrys’ stone = the centrepoint of the primitive ‘temple of Odrys’ in Odrysa. The temple is built over the spot where Odrys’s head was buried in the ground. The stone is said to cover the remains.
[4] Horn of Odrys = equivalent of OTL dacian/gallic war-horns
[5] Odan = a commander of a small army, leader of several ‘Taks’ and perhaps a small body of regular troops. It is rare that they command more than a thousand men. The Odan are typically tribal chieftains, or sometimes high priests. In larger battles, several Odans are commanded directly by the King (the title for king is ‘Odrys’, literally carrying on the name of the original Odrys).
[6] Lykurza = semi-mythical founder of later Odrysian warrior traditions, including the extensive training of selected males (and occasional females) from a very young age, somewhat similar to OTL Sparta.
[7] Agea = one of the many names for Greece.
Insane_Panda
Deity
Do you realize the wink next to my comment?
And finally, do you realize that I am not stupid?
We have agents everywhere.
OOC: You people read too much into everything.
Insane_Panda
Deity
orders tomorrah morning. Short and concise they shall be.
das
Regeneration In Process
Four hours, ten minutes left.
Bah, I may be as much as 10 minutes late, I'm typing but seemingly not fast enough.
das
Regeneration In Process
Deadline has passed. I still don't have nearly enough orders for ANY of the regions (although East Asia only really needs ThomAnder now). That does not make me happy-happy.
There, orders sent.
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