Transcript of lecture by Professor Charles Anthony of the Cimbrian Central Academy, 6th November, 1203 S.E. Class: Cultural and Political Foundations of Cimbria
Professor Anthony: . . . and as you can see, we ended last week's lecture at the height of the First Torman Empire's power. We already covered their conquest of several other minor groups in the region, along with the subsequent assimilation and adaptation of cultures that came with it. Under the leadership of several highly successful kings, we saw the Tormans expand beyond their traditional borders, until finally the First Empire was declared with the defeat of the Agathians at the four day's battle. We also saw how the Tormans solidified their gains with a thriving trade network, standardized currency, and a system of public works that were highly advanced for the time. Any questions? Yes?
Student: In the text it mentions the conquest of a tribe, the Cim. Are they going to be related to the founding of Cimbria?
Professor: Yes and no. The Cim did indeed live in the area where the capital now stands. But the Cim tribe was so thoroughly decimated by the Tormans in their initial wars of conquest that it practically ceased to exist as a ethnic group. Eventually, Torman settlers arrived in the region, and in settling it they became known as the Cim. The name was applied to them only because of where they had made their home; in ethnicity they were almost wholly Torman. In the end, all that survived of the Cim tribe was their name.
Any more questions? No? Alright, let's move on.
The golden age of the Torman Empire started in approximately 1750 F.E. and spanned the next four hundred years. In that time we saw a outpouring of intellectual and cultural activity from all corners of the empire. The concept of rational empiricism, originally conceived in the Agathian river-states, totally upended the traditional tribal organization of Torman society. What had been a loose coalition united by the personal magnetism of a series of successful warlords became a rationally constructed system of imperial rule.
Leading this imperial system was the Red Cadre, a military elite composed of descendants of victorious generals of the Empire's formative stages. A small, tightly knit group, children (male and female alike) born into the Red Cadre were raised to be professional soldiers and administrators from a very early age. The eldest members of the cadre were responsible for the appointment of an emperor by way of an informal committee. With a few rare exceptions, emperors were chosen from the ranks of the cadre and served for life.
While competition for imperial favor was stiff and political intrigue rampant, there are surprisingly few examples of that intrigue resulting in death. In most cases, the disgraced minister, deemed too valuable for execution, would instead be appointed to a provincial governorship.
Instead of a typical system of houses, the division of power among the members of the Red Cadre was marked by which military unit its members came from. Children of generals were expected to serve in the units of their fathers, and ascension into the ranks of the cadre was not always assured. The most talented of soldiers could hope to secure a position in the cadre, although it was an informal process and the chances of this occurring without a union with a prominent family were slim.
The collapse of the Torman Empire was just as spectacular as its meteoric rise to power four hundred years before. Just over four hundred years from the pronouncement of the empire, the Red Cadre was removed from power in a series of devastating political revolutions and counter-revolutions. The spark that started this conflict was one of the key points of contention in Torman civilization, namely the concept of citizenship.
We will cover the concept of Torman citizenship in more depth next class period, but suffice it to say that the Torman Empire strictly upheld a complex system of citizenship with several levels, usually determined by ethnic background. These levels were mutable and not necessarily hierarchal, but it was never good to be an Agathian. When the Red Cadre enacted a particularly harsh crackdown on Agathian rebels, the backlash in public discourse, fueled by the liberal intellectual elite, led to the sudden downfall of the ruling military oligarchy. The power vacuum was never satisfactorily filled; a Torman Commonwealth was proclaimed by the merchant classes, supported by the intellectual establishment, but many provincial governors refused to recognize it, instead remaining loyal to the military units that they had served in under the Cadre. This fragmentation led to rebellion and war amongst the states of the Commonwealth.
Contrary to the previous political intrigue of the Red Cadre, this progression of upheaval after upheaval was extremely bloody. The death toll among soldiers was great, but it was the loss of trained military leaders that eventually caused the fall of Torma. An invasion of hill tribes from the North, allied with Agathian rebels, came at exactly the time when the Torman military had been devasted most by internal warfare. Without generals to lead it, the Torman army was beaten again and again until the invaders had laid siege to the Torma itself. The siege lasted seventeen years, due much in part to the brilliant young Torman general Altus Simon, but Torma eventually surrendered. The city was burned and looted, but remained settled due to its important location as a trade port -- a role that it still has today.
The collapse of Torman civilization led to a return to regionalism. The old tribes, too mixed in four hundred and fifty years of Imperial rule to be distinguishable, had died off, leaving place of birth as the only method of self-identification for the coming centuries. Torman provinces that had survived the invasion became self-governing fiefdoms, gradually modifying the inherited Imperial ordinances to their own ends. The Agathians and the hill tribes quickly fractured for want of a common enemy and began another several hundred years of bloody warfare. Some of the invaders assimilated into the old Torman provinces, while others continued to pillage until they became worn down by attrition and were defeated by the local militaries. Still others returned North, with prisoners, slaves, and sometimes wives and husbands.
By 2300 F.E., the Torman Civilization was irrevocably fragmented, and the First Era of Eos was officially at an end. 2301 F.E. is also known as year 1, Second Era. We find this date first used by Bea the Scribe in the prologue of her history of the siege of Torma and it's aftermath. She was one of the last Torman acolytes of the Agathian rational philosophy and one of the most important historians of the era. We don't have time to go into her life in much depth, but I encourage you to investigate it on your own.
I think that's it for today. Next class period we will discuss Torman culture, the Red Cadre, and Torman citizenship as it realates to issues in contemporary Cimbrian culture. Don't forget to start reading that biography on Altus Simon for next week, we'll be spending . . .
End of Excerpt
Monday, December 7, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
010 -- A Letter
Andrew had spent most of his time at home after graduating. The weeks had dragged on slowly, and mid-summer was as hot as ever. The village of Kashi baked in the sun's sweltering rays, it's inhabitants moving slowly and tending to the shade whenever possible. The only real respite from the heat was to be found in the river that snaked it's way through town . . . most of Kashi's youth met there each day to cool off, but Andrew avoided them.
Andrew's family lived far from the new center of Kashi. Upstream, the buildings were made of red brick, wood, and stone in the Cimbrian style, but as one headed downstream the architecture quickly changed. The older buildings had roofs made of thatched reeds or clay shingles, with local brick or timber walls lightly plastered. A few of the taller ones had large terraces or rooftop gardens from which green vines snaked down like tentacles. Very few of these buildings had doors -- most of them had a decorated tapestry hanging in the doorway, slit down the center for easy entry.
The tapestry in Andrew's house, however, was plain and threadbare. His family was far even from the old center of town, their house situated at the end of a long path that followed the river downstream. The house itself was small but clean -- it needed a new coat of paint, but the roof was newly thatched and didn't leak.
Every morning Andrew's mother made him take the long walk to the Kashi girls' school with his sister, all the way upriver. The county house was in the center of a large square, with the boys' school, girls' school, militia barracks, post office, and a few other buildings scattered around it. The cluster of square, sharp-cornered Cimbrian buildings looked odd against the surrounding village, but were beginning to blend in as other buildings went up around them to house the staff that worked there. Andrew couldn't understand why people would want to live in Cimbrian style houses -- with their poor ventilation in the summer, they must be roasting.
Andrew's mother, Sarani, had been more persistent about getting him to do work around the house now that he was done with school. Most of the time he could still get out of it, but every once in while she would show a surprising burst of assertiveness and he would find himself working at some task or another. Today was one of those days, which was why he was out in the garden weeding in the middle of the afternoon, bent down in the dirt with sweat running down his back.
I hate working out here. I'm hot and miserable . . . this is stupid. If my sister gets back soon I'm going to make her do this. I can't wait to get out of this dump.
Andrew went to pull out another weed and got only leaves; the root had snapped and remained in the ground. He swore and began digging it out, careful not to disturb any of the growing vegetable plants. Getting a better grip on the stubborn root, he pulled again -- and the weed's root snapped again, buried even further beneath the dirt. Andrew swore again and moved on. He was not good at weeding. His sister could often finish the vegetable patch in half the time that it took him, a fact that she did not hesitate to remind him of quite often.
In fact, there were very few things around the house that Andrew was good at. His mother spent most of each day weaving yarn for the local shepherds or cleaning houses for the Cimbrian families in town. This left Andrew and Sati, his sister, with most of the upkeep of the house, and Andrew tried to avoid this work whenever possible. Usually he could get away with not doing his chores (his mother would do them for him when she got home) and so he'd been spending most of his time alone on an island in the river near the house.
The river was wide and slow enough that he could swim over to the island with ease. He'd explored every nook and cranny of the place while growing up, and as far as Andrew knew no one else ever visited the place. Thick, pricky underbrush came down all the way to the shore, but there were a few holes in the thicket where animals came to drink that Andrew used to get through. Once he got a few yards in, the undergrowth mostly disappeared and the going was much easier. Most of the island was covered in lanky trees that swayed easily in the wind, but in the center there was a large rocky outcropping that was Andrew's base of operations. Clambering up to the top, he could just see through the tips of the trees to the world around him.
To the West stretched the river, his house, and the town of Kashi. He could just see the tip of the county house's dome from his rock. The river ran past him on either side and off to the East, where after days of winding it emptied into the ocean. There was a town named Kumar at the end of the river, or so Andrew had heard. To the North and South stretched bare flatlands, covered in brown grasses and the occaisional dirt road.
Usually Andrew could count on a bit of a breeze to cool him off on the top of his rock. Today, though, he had no such luck weeding in the garden.
Looking up from the patch of carrots he was working on, Andrew noticed someone coming down the path. It was too early for his sister to be home from school, and the person was much too tall. Andrew stopped working and watched them come closer. As they drew closer, he realized it was the postman. His heart jumped into his throat; he'd been waiting as patiently as he could, but for the past several days he'd been nearly feverish with anticipation. Andrew set his spade down and walked back to the house, arriving almost at the same time as the man.
"Andrew?"
"Yeah."
"This is for you." The postman turned and started back up the long path after handing Andrew a thick bundle with the Cimbrian School Authority seal stamped in red wax on the front. His hands trembling slightly, Andrew turned and walked back into the house.
Calm down. Open it up, see what it says . . .
From
The Cimbrian School Authority
on 14th July, 1205 S.E.
Dear Sir,
The Cimbrian Central School is pleased to inform you of your exceptional performance on the standardized exit exam. Your score was within the top one percent of all exams. Students of your caliber make us all proud.
Considering the level of scholarship that you have demonstrated, the Cimbrian School Authority is pleased to offer you addmittance to the Central Academy. It is our belief that with your dedication to the pursuit of knowledge you could achieve great things at the academy. We are also pleased to offer the further incentive of a waiver of the standard tuition fees.
Please find enclosed the proper documentation for your application to the academy and waiver of tuition.
Respectfully,
Edwin Straypelt
Cimbrian Central School Administrator
Andrew couldn't even read the rest of the papers. He was frozen to the spot.
It worked! I got it! I'm getting out of here!
"Jata, did we get mail?"
Andrew's family lived far from the new center of Kashi. Upstream, the buildings were made of red brick, wood, and stone in the Cimbrian style, but as one headed downstream the architecture quickly changed. The older buildings had roofs made of thatched reeds or clay shingles, with local brick or timber walls lightly plastered. A few of the taller ones had large terraces or rooftop gardens from which green vines snaked down like tentacles. Very few of these buildings had doors -- most of them had a decorated tapestry hanging in the doorway, slit down the center for easy entry.
The tapestry in Andrew's house, however, was plain and threadbare. His family was far even from the old center of town, their house situated at the end of a long path that followed the river downstream. The house itself was small but clean -- it needed a new coat of paint, but the roof was newly thatched and didn't leak.
Every morning Andrew's mother made him take the long walk to the Kashi girls' school with his sister, all the way upriver. The county house was in the center of a large square, with the boys' school, girls' school, militia barracks, post office, and a few other buildings scattered around it. The cluster of square, sharp-cornered Cimbrian buildings looked odd against the surrounding village, but were beginning to blend in as other buildings went up around them to house the staff that worked there. Andrew couldn't understand why people would want to live in Cimbrian style houses -- with their poor ventilation in the summer, they must be roasting.
Andrew's mother, Sarani, had been more persistent about getting him to do work around the house now that he was done with school. Most of the time he could still get out of it, but every once in while she would show a surprising burst of assertiveness and he would find himself working at some task or another. Today was one of those days, which was why he was out in the garden weeding in the middle of the afternoon, bent down in the dirt with sweat running down his back.
I hate working out here. I'm hot and miserable . . . this is stupid. If my sister gets back soon I'm going to make her do this. I can't wait to get out of this dump.
Andrew went to pull out another weed and got only leaves; the root had snapped and remained in the ground. He swore and began digging it out, careful not to disturb any of the growing vegetable plants. Getting a better grip on the stubborn root, he pulled again -- and the weed's root snapped again, buried even further beneath the dirt. Andrew swore again and moved on. He was not good at weeding. His sister could often finish the vegetable patch in half the time that it took him, a fact that she did not hesitate to remind him of quite often.
In fact, there were very few things around the house that Andrew was good at. His mother spent most of each day weaving yarn for the local shepherds or cleaning houses for the Cimbrian families in town. This left Andrew and Sati, his sister, with most of the upkeep of the house, and Andrew tried to avoid this work whenever possible. Usually he could get away with not doing his chores (his mother would do them for him when she got home) and so he'd been spending most of his time alone on an island in the river near the house.
The river was wide and slow enough that he could swim over to the island with ease. He'd explored every nook and cranny of the place while growing up, and as far as Andrew knew no one else ever visited the place. Thick, pricky underbrush came down all the way to the shore, but there were a few holes in the thicket where animals came to drink that Andrew used to get through. Once he got a few yards in, the undergrowth mostly disappeared and the going was much easier. Most of the island was covered in lanky trees that swayed easily in the wind, but in the center there was a large rocky outcropping that was Andrew's base of operations. Clambering up to the top, he could just see through the tips of the trees to the world around him.
To the West stretched the river, his house, and the town of Kashi. He could just see the tip of the county house's dome from his rock. The river ran past him on either side and off to the East, where after days of winding it emptied into the ocean. There was a town named Kumar at the end of the river, or so Andrew had heard. To the North and South stretched bare flatlands, covered in brown grasses and the occaisional dirt road.
Usually Andrew could count on a bit of a breeze to cool him off on the top of his rock. Today, though, he had no such luck weeding in the garden.
Looking up from the patch of carrots he was working on, Andrew noticed someone coming down the path. It was too early for his sister to be home from school, and the person was much too tall. Andrew stopped working and watched them come closer. As they drew closer, he realized it was the postman. His heart jumped into his throat; he'd been waiting as patiently as he could, but for the past several days he'd been nearly feverish with anticipation. Andrew set his spade down and walked back to the house, arriving almost at the same time as the man.
"Andrew?"
"Yeah."
"This is for you." The postman turned and started back up the long path after handing Andrew a thick bundle with the Cimbrian School Authority seal stamped in red wax on the front. His hands trembling slightly, Andrew turned and walked back into the house.
Calm down. Open it up, see what it says . . .
From
The Cimbrian School Authority
on 14th July, 1205 S.E.
Dear Sir,
The Cimbrian Central School is pleased to inform you of your exceptional performance on the standardized exit exam. Your score was within the top one percent of all exams. Students of your caliber make us all proud.
Considering the level of scholarship that you have demonstrated, the Cimbrian School Authority is pleased to offer you addmittance to the Central Academy. It is our belief that with your dedication to the pursuit of knowledge you could achieve great things at the academy. We are also pleased to offer the further incentive of a waiver of the standard tuition fees.
Please find enclosed the proper documentation for your application to the academy and waiver of tuition.
Respectfully,
Edwin Straypelt
Cimbrian Central School Administrator
Andrew couldn't even read the rest of the papers. He was frozen to the spot.
It worked! I got it! I'm getting out of here!
"Jata, did we get mail?"
"Mom! We've been over this -- can you please call me Andrew? It's the name the rest of the world uses."
"Here, take a look." Andrew handed her the letter.
"I know, mom, I actually made it!" Andrew had now lapsed into Tel as well.
"Oh, Jata, I know . . . it's just . . . a lot, all at once. I'd been hoping for that letter ever since you took your exit exams . . . and now that it's here, well . . ."
With an effort, Sarani composed herself and stood. "I'm so proud of you, Jata. You worked so hard preparing for that test, I'm so proud!" She wrapped a squirming Andrew in a hug. "Mom!"
When she finally released him, Andrew's mother was already thinking about the neccessary preparations. "You'll need an Academy jacket . . . and textbooks, and we'll have to get you to Cimbria, and they didn't say anything about a housing scholarship . . ." Her eyebrows scrunched together as she began running through the various expenses of sending Andrew to his next level of schooling.
"I know, and I'll need new clothes if I'm going to fit in, they have certain expectations for students at the academy. My shoes are worn out, I need at least three more pairs of that new style of pants, my good shirt is the wrong size . . ."
As Andrew continued to list the various ways in which his wardrobe was insufficient for living in the city, his mother's face fell thinking of the expenses that would shortly be incurred on their strained budget.
"Yes, dear, you're right. I'm sure we can get all those things for you."
"Jata is getting new clothes?"
Andrew's sister Sati had just walked through the doorway.
"Andrew, didn't I tell you to pick up your sister from school today?"
"I'm sorry mom, I forgot, I was too busy weeding like you told me to, remember?"
"Why are we getting Jata new clothes?"
"Because I just won a scholarship to the Cimbrian Academy, midget."
"Huh. I guess they'll take anyone these days."
"Shut up."
"Hush, both of you. Jata, I'll see what I can do about getting you ready for the academy. Can you go finish the weeding?"
"Mom, can't you make Sati do it? I've been doing it all day."
"Sati, go finish the weeding."
Andrew's younger sister threw her books down in a huff. "I guess the golden child can't get his hands dirty now that he's going to the academy." She stormed into the back room to put on her work clothes.
Sarani turned back to Andrew, looking at him with eyes that were beginning to tear up again. "Oh, Jata . . . you're actually leaving, aren't you?" She abruptly embraced him again. Andrew tried to mutter something about his real name, but found himself curiously unable to speak.
Finally he wiggled out of her grasp. "I'm heading out."
"Okay, Jata . . . I'm sorry, I know I'm being foolish, but . . ."
"It's okay mom. I'll be back for dinner, okay?"
Sarani nodded, and turned back to her worktable as Andrew ducked through the doorcloth. He was most of the way around the house on his way to the island when someone caught his arm. Sati had caught up with him, this time wearing her work clothes.
"I know how you did it, Ajatashatru" she hissed into his ear.
"Did what?"
"You know what I mean. And now you have to keep me quiet about it."
Before Andrew could respond, Sati skipped off to the vegetable patch, humming a Cimbrian military march.
Damn. This makes things complicated.
Andrew slouched off to the river, anxious to get to the safety of his island. He needed some time to think.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
009 -- Rufus Xeno
Rufus looked down at the bicycle, wiping the sweat out of his eyes. He was pretty sure that it had broken again. The flimsy contraption hadn't lasted more than a few days since he'd taken it from the shop in Merrech. The hard roads and blowing sand had taken their toll on the fragile cogs and spokes quite quickly. Rufus had already bent one of the wheels upon striking a pothole in the road, and as much as he tried to bend it back it kept folding in on itself. Further inspection showed that the metal was thin and weak under the fancy paint job.
Must've been owned by someone rich.
This time, though, there was no fixing things. Rufus had slid off of the road and the wheel had totally collapsed. He picked the bike up and started walking.
He wasn't too surprised that the bicycle had given out. The road that he was taking from Merrech to Asfar was a minor one, close to the Southern edge of the Iram Desert, and was poorly maintained. Its cracked stones stretched in a straight line ahead and behind him as far as he could see through the heat shimmer. He had decided to come this way because it was one of the more isolated paths through the wastes, but Rufus was beginning to wonder if the privacy was worth it.
He wiped his forehead again. The ground was too rocky and dry for any sort of shade giving plants to grow, and the only plants he could see were small shrubs and some whispy grasses. Even the breeze was hot and dry, blowing straight across the baking dunes in the North. Every once in a while a swirl of wind would throw sand in his face, a reminder of the desert's constant encroachment.
Rufus walked for the rest of the afternoon. The ground gradually became more hilly, the road winding between sharp, rocky ridges on either side. Finally he began to see a smudge of black on the horizon, which gradually turned into a whisp of smoke, and then a group of low buildings, and finally a small village nestled in between two bluffs. This was a welcome sight, because Rufus was beginning to get thirsty.
The village itself was no more than ten low buildings, variously constructed from plaster, masonry, and wood. There was a small stream that ran from the center of town out down the hillside, fed by a small spring. The stream had been dammed in the center of town to form a deep pool, and there was a metal pipeline snaking out of the pool down the bluff. Scattered palm trees swayed gently in the breeze around the village square.
Rufus drew a few interested looks as he walked into town with his broken bicycle. Taking hold of the bucket rope near the pool, he helped himself to a long draught of water before doing anything else. Turning, he noticed that a group of people had formed around him. They seemed curious, but not threatening.
"Is there anyone who has any bread?" Rufus asked in Abdunne. The villagers looked on, uncomprehending. Rufus tried a few other tribal dialects before getting a response. One of the elders came forward, speaking an old desert tongue in broken phrases. Working through him, Rufus was able to trade what was left of the bicycle for a loaf of bread which he ate quickly. After finishing his meal, he asked if the water was free. It was, and so he took another long drink and filled his canteen. He was about to thank them and depart when he noticed the long metal pipeline again.
"What is that for?"
The elder struggled . . . there was no word quite right, apparently. Something about metal, and road . . .
"Does that lead to the railroad tracks?"
The man smiled. Yes, he said, it goes to the railroad tracks.
"Thank you. Rahm be with you."
And with you as well. The old man made the sign of Jemahl.
Rufus left the town and the road, following the pipeline towards the railroad tracks. It led back down out of the hills to the flatland below them. The pipe itself was on stilts, gradually sloping so that water could flow along it powered only by gravity. The tracks were about a quarter mile from the bluffs, and a small, rusted metal reservoir sat next to them.
Rufus climbed up on to the tracks, looking either direction, but there was nothing to be seen except rocky desert in either direction. He clambered back down the gravel embankment and laid down in the shade of the water tower, quickly falling asleep.
He awoke with a start several hours later. It was almost dusk, the sun was turning orange as it sank towards the horizon. Rufus didn't know what had awakened him at first, but after listening carefully for a moment he was able to detect a faint humming sound coming from the rails.
A train!
Rising quickly, Rufus looked around for a place to hide. There wasn't much cover nearby except for the water tower, and that wasn't going to work at all. Finally he settled on crouching in the long shadow cast by a boulder half-buried in the dirt. It wasn't perfect, but in the setting sun he doubted anyone would notice him.
Another few minutes passed before Rufus could begin to hear the locomotive. The steady, rhythmic throb of pistons grew quickly, cutting through the evening quiet. As the train grew closer, it became a riot of sounds -- the hiss of steam, the rumble of steel wheels, the whine of an air compressor. With a sharp clank and roar of escaping steam, it finally lumbered to a stop at the water tower. Rufus could hear voices chattering as the crew and passengers hopped off to stretch their legs. While the crew refilled the locomotive's water supply, the passengers were headed to a spigot lower down on the tower to refill their own canteens. This was Rufus' opportunity.
Waiting until most people had exited the train, Rufus casually stepped out from behind the boulder and strolled up to the tracks. The train was a short one -- the rusted and sand-pitted locomotive led a pair of passenger coaches and a few dull gray freight wagons. Most of the passengers were wearing traditional head-scarves and robes, but he could spot a few wealthier businessmen wearing Cimbrian garb. Ha! They must be miserable in vests and hats with this weather.
No one noticed as Rufus slipped back onto the train with the rest of the passengers. Both carriages were equipped only with long wooden benches that were already full. Pondering where he was going to sit for a moment, Rufus saw a pair of youths slip out a window and climb up the side of the carriage. He squeezed through the crowded interior of the carriage to the window and stuck his head out, only to find a ladder. Climbing it, Rufus found himself on top of the carriage with all of the luggage. A metal rail ran around the edge of the roof to keep it from falling off, and most of it was carelessly tied down. The two young boys were nowhere to be seen, but Rufus assumed that they were nested somewhere comfortably among the luggage and decided he would do the same.
A few minutes later, he was comfortably sandwiched between a bale of cloth and someone's large traveling trunk. With a lurch, the train began to move, and staring up at the stars Rufus felt a sense of contentment spread over him.
It's not often that an assassin gets a chance to relax, after all.
Must've been owned by someone rich.
This time, though, there was no fixing things. Rufus had slid off of the road and the wheel had totally collapsed. He picked the bike up and started walking.
He wasn't too surprised that the bicycle had given out. The road that he was taking from Merrech to Asfar was a minor one, close to the Southern edge of the Iram Desert, and was poorly maintained. Its cracked stones stretched in a straight line ahead and behind him as far as he could see through the heat shimmer. He had decided to come this way because it was one of the more isolated paths through the wastes, but Rufus was beginning to wonder if the privacy was worth it.
He wiped his forehead again. The ground was too rocky and dry for any sort of shade giving plants to grow, and the only plants he could see were small shrubs and some whispy grasses. Even the breeze was hot and dry, blowing straight across the baking dunes in the North. Every once in a while a swirl of wind would throw sand in his face, a reminder of the desert's constant encroachment.
Rufus walked for the rest of the afternoon. The ground gradually became more hilly, the road winding between sharp, rocky ridges on either side. Finally he began to see a smudge of black on the horizon, which gradually turned into a whisp of smoke, and then a group of low buildings, and finally a small village nestled in between two bluffs. This was a welcome sight, because Rufus was beginning to get thirsty.
The village itself was no more than ten low buildings, variously constructed from plaster, masonry, and wood. There was a small stream that ran from the center of town out down the hillside, fed by a small spring. The stream had been dammed in the center of town to form a deep pool, and there was a metal pipeline snaking out of the pool down the bluff. Scattered palm trees swayed gently in the breeze around the village square.
Rufus drew a few interested looks as he walked into town with his broken bicycle. Taking hold of the bucket rope near the pool, he helped himself to a long draught of water before doing anything else. Turning, he noticed that a group of people had formed around him. They seemed curious, but not threatening.
"Is there anyone who has any bread?" Rufus asked in Abdunne. The villagers looked on, uncomprehending. Rufus tried a few other tribal dialects before getting a response. One of the elders came forward, speaking an old desert tongue in broken phrases. Working through him, Rufus was able to trade what was left of the bicycle for a loaf of bread which he ate quickly. After finishing his meal, he asked if the water was free. It was, and so he took another long drink and filled his canteen. He was about to thank them and depart when he noticed the long metal pipeline again.
"What is that for?"
The elder struggled . . . there was no word quite right, apparently. Something about metal, and road . . .
"Does that lead to the railroad tracks?"
The man smiled. Yes, he said, it goes to the railroad tracks.
"Thank you. Rahm be with you."
And with you as well. The old man made the sign of Jemahl.
Rufus left the town and the road, following the pipeline towards the railroad tracks. It led back down out of the hills to the flatland below them. The pipe itself was on stilts, gradually sloping so that water could flow along it powered only by gravity. The tracks were about a quarter mile from the bluffs, and a small, rusted metal reservoir sat next to them.
Rufus climbed up on to the tracks, looking either direction, but there was nothing to be seen except rocky desert in either direction. He clambered back down the gravel embankment and laid down in the shade of the water tower, quickly falling asleep.
He awoke with a start several hours later. It was almost dusk, the sun was turning orange as it sank towards the horizon. Rufus didn't know what had awakened him at first, but after listening carefully for a moment he was able to detect a faint humming sound coming from the rails.
A train!
Rising quickly, Rufus looked around for a place to hide. There wasn't much cover nearby except for the water tower, and that wasn't going to work at all. Finally he settled on crouching in the long shadow cast by a boulder half-buried in the dirt. It wasn't perfect, but in the setting sun he doubted anyone would notice him.
Another few minutes passed before Rufus could begin to hear the locomotive. The steady, rhythmic throb of pistons grew quickly, cutting through the evening quiet. As the train grew closer, it became a riot of sounds -- the hiss of steam, the rumble of steel wheels, the whine of an air compressor. With a sharp clank and roar of escaping steam, it finally lumbered to a stop at the water tower. Rufus could hear voices chattering as the crew and passengers hopped off to stretch their legs. While the crew refilled the locomotive's water supply, the passengers were headed to a spigot lower down on the tower to refill their own canteens. This was Rufus' opportunity.
Waiting until most people had exited the train, Rufus casually stepped out from behind the boulder and strolled up to the tracks. The train was a short one -- the rusted and sand-pitted locomotive led a pair of passenger coaches and a few dull gray freight wagons. Most of the passengers were wearing traditional head-scarves and robes, but he could spot a few wealthier businessmen wearing Cimbrian garb. Ha! They must be miserable in vests and hats with this weather.
No one noticed as Rufus slipped back onto the train with the rest of the passengers. Both carriages were equipped only with long wooden benches that were already full. Pondering where he was going to sit for a moment, Rufus saw a pair of youths slip out a window and climb up the side of the carriage. He squeezed through the crowded interior of the carriage to the window and stuck his head out, only to find a ladder. Climbing it, Rufus found himself on top of the carriage with all of the luggage. A metal rail ran around the edge of the roof to keep it from falling off, and most of it was carelessly tied down. The two young boys were nowhere to be seen, but Rufus assumed that they were nested somewhere comfortably among the luggage and decided he would do the same.
A few minutes later, he was comfortably sandwiched between a bale of cloth and someone's large traveling trunk. With a lurch, the train began to move, and staring up at the stars Rufus felt a sense of contentment spread over him.
It's not often that an assassin gets a chance to relax, after all.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
008 -- Ships
Excerpt from the forward to "The Shipspotter's Guide: A Handbook for the 13th century." by Peabody Press. p. 1201 S.E.
For centuries man has been fascinated by the ocean. It is plainly represented in cave paintings from ten thousand years ago. Murals in the ancient temple of Asfar depict the struggle between Jemahl and Saripha over and under the ocean. The earliest philosophers of Cambur speak of it's mystery in their texts. The great poet from the South, Naruda, speaks of his lover's eyes as "blue and deep as the sea." And from the beginning of civilization, man has sought to travel the ocean via the construction of ships.
Today, most of Eo's commercial activity occurs or is connected to maritime activity. The business of the world cannot be conducted without massive freighters moving goods between the ports of the world. Billons of units of currency change hands across the ocean every year. The empires of the world exert their influence on each other with large, heavily armed navies. Hundreds of thousands of people depend on the harvest of food from the sea, either to eat or to make a living. And for everyone, the sea can be a source of relaxation, fun, and beauty.
To achieve these different tasks, humanity has constructed ships. Freighters, barges, warships, fishing ships, passenger ships, yachts, ferries, dredges, and a multitude of other types of watercraft ply the oceans of Eos. The technology of seafaring has changed quickly through the last century with the widespread adoption of cambric-powered watercraft. Where once graceful wooden sailing vessels dominated the seas, now ships of iron and steel are pushing their way through the waves. Sailing vessels can still be found, but their usefulness as a tool of commercial and military action has ceased.
Steam-powered vessels have changed the very notion of commercial shipping. Freed from a dependency on wind direction, new trade routes have formed where before there was little traffic. New shipbuilding techniques allow ships to carry unheard-of amounts of cargo at speeds exceeding ten knots. The surge in freight traffic at the beginning of the last century due to these developments has finally stabilized, with several large shipping conglomerations controlling most of the cargo today. Ship designs are beginning to standardize, but there are still many examples of first, second, and third generation engineering in use today on smaller, less important routes.
The past hundred years has also seen the widespread adoption of two new types of vessel, the submersible and the submarine. Powered by cambric rods, these ships can alter their relative buoyancies to sink below the waves and rise to the surface at will. The distinguishing factor is that while a submarine is designed to function mostly below water, the submersible is designed to function mostly on the surface.
The submarine has become mainly useful in military applications. The importance of being able to remain unseen beneath the surface of the ocean in all kinds of weather was immediately apparent to the military establishments of most of the major powers. Today, modern military fleets all have a powerful complement of submarines capable of appearing anywhere at any time. Their sleek, black hulls are instantly recognizable, along with their jutting prows and thick flank armor. Most of these vessels are equipped with a large ram for destroying other submarines, as well as other smaller weapons, but certain Cimbrian designs have been seen to use underwater projectiles equipped with an explosive warheads.
The military also employs submersibles, but not usually in a direct combat position. Rather, submersibles are more useful for providing offshore artillery bombardment, as their larger hulls are more stable and are suitable for fitting large caliber weaponry. Submersibles are also often seen as supply ships, restocking the food, water, and cambric of faster, lighter military submarines.
All of these ships depend on other advances in fields such as echo-location, metallurgy, and air purification. Delicate arrays of pressure sensitive plates attached to hydraulic lines are used to "hear" underwater, utilizing the properties of sound beneath the surface to locate rocks, obstacles, and other submerged vessels. Stronger and more elastic metals are gradually allowing ships to travel deeper and faster in the ocean. Complex chemical reactions produce the oxygen needed for humans to survive underneath the surface.
This updated edition of the guide has added all of the most modern military and civilian vessels of the last decade, while retaining the great majority of ships from earlier guides. Some types of ship have been removed as they are no longer in service, while others have been moved to the extremely rare section at the end of the guide. The reader will quickly notice the new organization . . .
End of excerpt
For centuries man has been fascinated by the ocean. It is plainly represented in cave paintings from ten thousand years ago. Murals in the ancient temple of Asfar depict the struggle between Jemahl and Saripha over and under the ocean. The earliest philosophers of Cambur speak of it's mystery in their texts. The great poet from the South, Naruda, speaks of his lover's eyes as "blue and deep as the sea." And from the beginning of civilization, man has sought to travel the ocean via the construction of ships.
Today, most of Eo's commercial activity occurs or is connected to maritime activity. The business of the world cannot be conducted without massive freighters moving goods between the ports of the world. Billons of units of currency change hands across the ocean every year. The empires of the world exert their influence on each other with large, heavily armed navies. Hundreds of thousands of people depend on the harvest of food from the sea, either to eat or to make a living. And for everyone, the sea can be a source of relaxation, fun, and beauty.
To achieve these different tasks, humanity has constructed ships. Freighters, barges, warships, fishing ships, passenger ships, yachts, ferries, dredges, and a multitude of other types of watercraft ply the oceans of Eos. The technology of seafaring has changed quickly through the last century with the widespread adoption of cambric-powered watercraft. Where once graceful wooden sailing vessels dominated the seas, now ships of iron and steel are pushing their way through the waves. Sailing vessels can still be found, but their usefulness as a tool of commercial and military action has ceased.
Steam-powered vessels have changed the very notion of commercial shipping. Freed from a dependency on wind direction, new trade routes have formed where before there was little traffic. New shipbuilding techniques allow ships to carry unheard-of amounts of cargo at speeds exceeding ten knots. The surge in freight traffic at the beginning of the last century due to these developments has finally stabilized, with several large shipping conglomerations controlling most of the cargo today. Ship designs are beginning to standardize, but there are still many examples of first, second, and third generation engineering in use today on smaller, less important routes.
The past hundred years has also seen the widespread adoption of two new types of vessel, the submersible and the submarine. Powered by cambric rods, these ships can alter their relative buoyancies to sink below the waves and rise to the surface at will. The distinguishing factor is that while a submarine is designed to function mostly below water, the submersible is designed to function mostly on the surface.
The submarine has become mainly useful in military applications. The importance of being able to remain unseen beneath the surface of the ocean in all kinds of weather was immediately apparent to the military establishments of most of the major powers. Today, modern military fleets all have a powerful complement of submarines capable of appearing anywhere at any time. Their sleek, black hulls are instantly recognizable, along with their jutting prows and thick flank armor. Most of these vessels are equipped with a large ram for destroying other submarines, as well as other smaller weapons, but certain Cimbrian designs have been seen to use underwater projectiles equipped with an explosive warheads.
The military also employs submersibles, but not usually in a direct combat position. Rather, submersibles are more useful for providing offshore artillery bombardment, as their larger hulls are more stable and are suitable for fitting large caliber weaponry. Submersibles are also often seen as supply ships, restocking the food, water, and cambric of faster, lighter military submarines.
All of these ships depend on other advances in fields such as echo-location, metallurgy, and air purification. Delicate arrays of pressure sensitive plates attached to hydraulic lines are used to "hear" underwater, utilizing the properties of sound beneath the surface to locate rocks, obstacles, and other submerged vessels. Stronger and more elastic metals are gradually allowing ships to travel deeper and faster in the ocean. Complex chemical reactions produce the oxygen needed for humans to survive underneath the surface.
This updated edition of the guide has added all of the most modern military and civilian vessels of the last decade, while retaining the great majority of ships from earlier guides. Some types of ship have been removed as they are no longer in service, while others have been moved to the extremely rare section at the end of the guide. The reader will quickly notice the new organization . . .
End of excerpt
Friday, August 28, 2009
007 -- Ajatashatru
"You have ten minutes remaining."
The classroom was sweltering. Bright shafts of sunlight lanced in through the tall windows, creeping across the room as the afternoon wore onwards. The examination had been in full swing for almost three hours, and most of the boys had dark sweat stains running down their backs and armpits. The frenzied scratching of graphite pencils on cheap, coarse paper only increased in volume as the end of the exam approached.
"Five minutes."
One student, startled by the announcement, snapped his pencil in surprise. A small wordless sound escaped his lips before he switched pencils and continued his frantic scribbling.
The teacher stood in the front of the class, staring at his pocket watch, unmoving. Finally --
"Time is up. Please stand next to your desks and I will collect your papers."
An audible groan rose from the class, almost drowning out the creaking floorboards as all thirty boys rose from their desks at once. The black-clad teacher moved quickly up and down the rows collecting the sweat and lead-stained exams before returning to the front of the classroom and his official examination booklet.
"This now concludes your exit examination from the Kashi Boy's School. Expect your results in two weeks to a month by mail. Class dismissed!"
Relieved, the students gradually stumbled out into the cool air of the hallway. But before they could leave the teacher called to one of them.
"Andrew, could I talk to you for a minute?"
A slender, brown-haired youth tensed momentarily, and then turned from the door and walked back to the teacher's desk. "Yes, Mister Bradford?"
"I just wanted to say what a pleasure it has been teaching you this past year, Andrew. You're one of the brighter students to come through this school in a long time, especially for a . . . ah . . ."
Andrew watched his history teacher sputter momentarily before replying. "Thank you, sir, you know I'm just trying to do my best."
"Well, I know it was exceptional, as always. Best of luck to you, I know you're in the running for the scholarship." Mr. Bradford had recovered from his earlier gaffe quite effortlessly.
"Thank you sir, we'll see how it turns out."
"Well, I won't hold you up any longer. I know you're anxious to get out of here once and for all!"
Andrew smiled and turned from the desk. He forced himself to walk slowly out of the room, letting his pulse return to normal. Whew . . . I thought he'd noticed for a second. That would've caused some problems . . . no matter. Time to get to work.
Walking quickly once he was out of Mr. Bradford's vision, Andrew passed the other five classrooms. Kashi wasn't a large town, and the government school was only a single low brick and wood building. He stopped at his locker only long enough to grab the brown leather satchel inside before continuing to walk quickly to the end of the building. Andrew was just out of the door when another voice called to him, this time much less friendly.
"Hey! Rat!"
Shit. Not these guys again.
"Done with your exam, Rat?"
Should I run? No, I've tried that. They're too fast.
Andrew stopped and turned around. Three boys were leaning against the side of the building, their school uniforms carefully askew. The shortest one was smoking some kind of tobacco rolled in paper.
"Can I do something for you?"
They laughed.
This is not good.
The short one took the tobacco out of his mouth and stood up.
"Yes, Ratty Jata, would you mind joining us for a minute?" he replied, smiling with exaggerated politeness and bowing slightly. The other two continued to laugh.
I already know how this is going to end. They'll be polite at first, but as soon as they get bored with insults it will get physical very quickly. I can't win in a fight, they're all bigger than me. Even Greg! I don't have time for this today -- I have to head them off. Maybe if I can provoke just one of them into fighting me alone . . . I might have a chance . . .
"What if I don't want to, Greg?"
The smile instantly disappeared from the short boy's face, replaced by a look of cold hatred. "That wasn't a request, you fucking half-breed." He tossed his cigarette aside and began walking towards Andrew.
"Don't fucking call me that anymore." Dammit, could my voice sound any less threatening? I sound like a fucking twelve year old.
The three boys stopped in surprise. "Weellll . . . look who grew a pair!" said Greg. "There's only one problem -- you ARE a fucking half-breed, and we're gonna call you whatever the fuck we want to call you!"
"At least I'm not too dumb to pass first level math."
At this a vein twitched in Greg's forehead. There we go, get good and angry . . . just have to keep pushing him . . . Greg recovered quickly. He turned back to the others.
"You know what I hate about half-breeds?"
This was a line that Andrew had heard many times.
"It's not that they're mixed. It's not that they think they're smarter than us. What I HATE about half-breeds is the thought that some darkie has gotten with someone's wife."
They're laughing again. As long as they're laughing, I'm safe.
"But do you know what's worse?"
Greg turned back to Andrew.
"The possibility that maybe instead of some darkie and a white woman, it was the other way around. The thought that a man would stoop so fucking low to fuck your mother makes me want to --"
"At least she's not getting paid for it like your mom!" Andrew was improvising wildly at this point.
Greg's face went suddenly pale. The other two boys were still laughing, but his mouth had clamped shut. Andrew took the opportunity to keep taunting him.
"Yeah, you heard me. I know how you got into school -- I heard all about your mom and the headmaster."
"Shut up, Rat. Now." Greg's voice trembled.
Wait . . . really? Andrew threw caution to the winds.
"And how about your dad and your sister, huh? I'll bet when he slips into her bedroom at night it isn't just to keep her warm. Too bad you're such a fucking coward, or else maybe you'd --"
"Yeeaaarggh!" Greg threw himself at Andrew, screaming incoherently. They both went down in the dirt in a scrambling tangle of legs and arms. The other two boys stood watching, unsure whether to help or not. Andrew wasn't sure, but he thought that maybe Greg was crying. At least one of Greg's blows connected solidly with Andrew's nose, and he felt something crack.
"Hey! Hey! Boys! Stop that this instant!" Someone was running up to them. "No fighting! No fighting allowed!" Hands pulled them apart and helped Andrew upright. Mr. Bradford and another of the teachers had arrived. Greg was struggling against the firm grip of the headmaster, still crying. Putting his hand to his face, Andrew realized that his nose was bleeding profusely. His satchel was still on his back, thankfully.
Mr. Bradford was still talking. ". . . I know that you've just taken the exit exam, but that doesn't mean that the rules no longer apply. We can revoke your diploma at any point from now until the fall! Gregory Hutch, are you listening to me?!?" Greg was still struggling against the headmaster's firm grip, silent tears running down his face. The other two boys were nowhere to be seen.
"I'll take care of Mr. Hutch, can you get Andrew cleaned up?" said the headmaster. "The bandages are in my office, see if you can at least stop him from bleeding all over everything."
"Yes, yes, I'll see what I can do." Mr. Bradford took Andrew by the arm and led him back inside the school. "Try to hold your head up and back, it will slow the bleeding." Andrew followed him down to the end of the hallway and into the headmaster's office. Mr. Bradford had to briefly rummage through the desk before finding the bandages.
"Alright, now take this and hold it against your nose. Keep your head tilted back and you'll be fine. We'll just have you sit right here until the bleeding stops, and then you can head along home." Andrew just nodded and sat in a small chair to the side of the headmaster's desk, dropping his satchel to the floor next to him.
Just as he sat down, the headmaster came back in. "That's one that I'm not sorry to see the last of." He sat down heavily at his desk, pushing his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose.
"How are you feeling, Andrew?" he asked after a brief pause, without looking at him.
"Fine, sir. A little sore."
"You should be more careful around those three. I thought you would've learned that by now."
All Andrew could think about was the headmaster and Mrs. Hutch.
"Yes, sir . . . sometimes I forget."
The room was silent for a moment. Then the headmaster replaced his glasses and inhaled sharply.
"Yes, well, we can't have one of our most promising scholars getting into fights with his peers. I'm sure you did very well on the tests today, Andrew. Speaking of which, Terry, do you have the . . . ?"
"Yes, headmaster, right here." Mr. Bradford pulled a large stack of exams from his briefcase and set them on the headmaster's desk. "They're all ready to be sealed up and mailed. Are you going to do them now? I can drop them at the station on my way home if you'd like."
"I may take you up on that. I think I have the envelope back here somewhere . . ."
This is not going according to plan. I didn't think they would mail the tests so quickly. If I'm gonna do it it's gotta be now. This isn't how I planned to do it, but oh well . . .
"Um, excuse me, headmaster?"
"What is it, Andrew?"
"Well, there was something else . . ."
The headmaster paused. "Yes?"
"The other boys . . . well, when I came out, they were doing something. They had something propped up against the building, and they were all standing around it, but as soon as I came out they I saw it and they fought me. I don't know what was in it, but I thought I smelled smoke . . . and . . ."
The Headmaster and Mr. Bradford stood quickly. "Terry, you take the South wall. I'll check the North, and we'll meet in front. Hurry!" Both adults rushed out of the office.
As soon as the sound of running footsteps had faded, Andrew jumped up from the chair. He quickly closed the door of the office and turned to the stack of exams sitting on the desk. Thumbing through the pile, he quickly located his own answer sheet by the small red triangle in the corner of the cover sheet. The red pencil looked identical to the others in the examination room and had been easy enough to smuggle in.
Opening his satchel, Andrew pulled out another answer sheet. Carefully prepared (sweat stains and all) the night before, he gingerly substituted it for his original exam, taking care not to bleed on anything. I really hope that those answers I bought from that Cimbrian Central guy were worth it.
No sooner had he replaced the stack of papers on the Headmaster's desk when footsteps were heard outside in the hallway. Carefully sitting back down in the chair, he was just in time to see the headmaster and Mr. Bradford come back into the office, huffing and puffing.
"Well . . . huff . . . there's no sign . . . hooo . . . of any problems . . . . huff . . . thank goodness." They stood panting for a moment before continuing. "Thanks, Andrew . . . you gave us a bit of a scare, but I'm glad you mentioned it."
"I'm just glad that everything is okay, sir. Sorry to get you all out of breath." Andrew made sure to keep his voice as neutral as possible.
"No, no, don't be sorry. Look, why don't you head home now . . . what was I doing?"
"I think you were mailing the exams, sir."
"Ah, yes . . . let me finish that before you leave, Terry. Oh, and have you . . ."
But Andrew was already out of the office. He couldn't trust his face to stay expressionless as the headmaster looked at the exams . . . I can't give it away now. That would be a pretty stupid way to wreck it all . . . Come on Andrew, keep it together!
This time he checked carefully before exiting the building.
The classroom was sweltering. Bright shafts of sunlight lanced in through the tall windows, creeping across the room as the afternoon wore onwards. The examination had been in full swing for almost three hours, and most of the boys had dark sweat stains running down their backs and armpits. The frenzied scratching of graphite pencils on cheap, coarse paper only increased in volume as the end of the exam approached.
"Five minutes."
One student, startled by the announcement, snapped his pencil in surprise. A small wordless sound escaped his lips before he switched pencils and continued his frantic scribbling.
The teacher stood in the front of the class, staring at his pocket watch, unmoving. Finally --
"Time is up. Please stand next to your desks and I will collect your papers."
An audible groan rose from the class, almost drowning out the creaking floorboards as all thirty boys rose from their desks at once. The black-clad teacher moved quickly up and down the rows collecting the sweat and lead-stained exams before returning to the front of the classroom and his official examination booklet.
"This now concludes your exit examination from the Kashi Boy's School. Expect your results in two weeks to a month by mail. Class dismissed!"
Relieved, the students gradually stumbled out into the cool air of the hallway. But before they could leave the teacher called to one of them.
"Andrew, could I talk to you for a minute?"
A slender, brown-haired youth tensed momentarily, and then turned from the door and walked back to the teacher's desk. "Yes, Mister Bradford?"
"I just wanted to say what a pleasure it has been teaching you this past year, Andrew. You're one of the brighter students to come through this school in a long time, especially for a . . . ah . . ."
Andrew watched his history teacher sputter momentarily before replying. "Thank you, sir, you know I'm just trying to do my best."
"Well, I know it was exceptional, as always. Best of luck to you, I know you're in the running for the scholarship." Mr. Bradford had recovered from his earlier gaffe quite effortlessly.
"Thank you sir, we'll see how it turns out."
"Well, I won't hold you up any longer. I know you're anxious to get out of here once and for all!"
Andrew smiled and turned from the desk. He forced himself to walk slowly out of the room, letting his pulse return to normal. Whew . . . I thought he'd noticed for a second. That would've caused some problems . . . no matter. Time to get to work.
Walking quickly once he was out of Mr. Bradford's vision, Andrew passed the other five classrooms. Kashi wasn't a large town, and the government school was only a single low brick and wood building. He stopped at his locker only long enough to grab the brown leather satchel inside before continuing to walk quickly to the end of the building. Andrew was just out of the door when another voice called to him, this time much less friendly.
"Hey! Rat!"
Shit. Not these guys again.
"Done with your exam, Rat?"
Should I run? No, I've tried that. They're too fast.
Andrew stopped and turned around. Three boys were leaning against the side of the building, their school uniforms carefully askew. The shortest one was smoking some kind of tobacco rolled in paper.
"Can I do something for you?"
They laughed.
This is not good.
The short one took the tobacco out of his mouth and stood up.
"Yes, Ratty Jata, would you mind joining us for a minute?" he replied, smiling with exaggerated politeness and bowing slightly. The other two continued to laugh.
I already know how this is going to end. They'll be polite at first, but as soon as they get bored with insults it will get physical very quickly. I can't win in a fight, they're all bigger than me. Even Greg! I don't have time for this today -- I have to head them off. Maybe if I can provoke just one of them into fighting me alone . . . I might have a chance . . .
"What if I don't want to, Greg?"
The smile instantly disappeared from the short boy's face, replaced by a look of cold hatred. "That wasn't a request, you fucking half-breed." He tossed his cigarette aside and began walking towards Andrew.
"Don't fucking call me that anymore." Dammit, could my voice sound any less threatening? I sound like a fucking twelve year old.
The three boys stopped in surprise. "Weellll . . . look who grew a pair!" said Greg. "There's only one problem -- you ARE a fucking half-breed, and we're gonna call you whatever the fuck we want to call you!"
"At least I'm not too dumb to pass first level math."
At this a vein twitched in Greg's forehead. There we go, get good and angry . . . just have to keep pushing him . . . Greg recovered quickly. He turned back to the others.
"You know what I hate about half-breeds?"
This was a line that Andrew had heard many times.
"It's not that they're mixed. It's not that they think they're smarter than us. What I HATE about half-breeds is the thought that some darkie has gotten with someone's wife."
They're laughing again. As long as they're laughing, I'm safe.
"But do you know what's worse?"
Greg turned back to Andrew.
"The possibility that maybe instead of some darkie and a white woman, it was the other way around. The thought that a man would stoop so fucking low to fuck your mother makes me want to --"
"At least she's not getting paid for it like your mom!" Andrew was improvising wildly at this point.
Greg's face went suddenly pale. The other two boys were still laughing, but his mouth had clamped shut. Andrew took the opportunity to keep taunting him.
"Yeah, you heard me. I know how you got into school -- I heard all about your mom and the headmaster."
"Shut up, Rat. Now." Greg's voice trembled.
Wait . . . really? Andrew threw caution to the winds.
"And how about your dad and your sister, huh? I'll bet when he slips into her bedroom at night it isn't just to keep her warm. Too bad you're such a fucking coward, or else maybe you'd --"
"Yeeaaarggh!" Greg threw himself at Andrew, screaming incoherently. They both went down in the dirt in a scrambling tangle of legs and arms. The other two boys stood watching, unsure whether to help or not. Andrew wasn't sure, but he thought that maybe Greg was crying. At least one of Greg's blows connected solidly with Andrew's nose, and he felt something crack.
"Hey! Hey! Boys! Stop that this instant!" Someone was running up to them. "No fighting! No fighting allowed!" Hands pulled them apart and helped Andrew upright. Mr. Bradford and another of the teachers had arrived. Greg was struggling against the firm grip of the headmaster, still crying. Putting his hand to his face, Andrew realized that his nose was bleeding profusely. His satchel was still on his back, thankfully.
Mr. Bradford was still talking. ". . . I know that you've just taken the exit exam, but that doesn't mean that the rules no longer apply. We can revoke your diploma at any point from now until the fall! Gregory Hutch, are you listening to me?!?" Greg was still struggling against the headmaster's firm grip, silent tears running down his face. The other two boys were nowhere to be seen.
"I'll take care of Mr. Hutch, can you get Andrew cleaned up?" said the headmaster. "The bandages are in my office, see if you can at least stop him from bleeding all over everything."
"Yes, yes, I'll see what I can do." Mr. Bradford took Andrew by the arm and led him back inside the school. "Try to hold your head up and back, it will slow the bleeding." Andrew followed him down to the end of the hallway and into the headmaster's office. Mr. Bradford had to briefly rummage through the desk before finding the bandages.
"Alright, now take this and hold it against your nose. Keep your head tilted back and you'll be fine. We'll just have you sit right here until the bleeding stops, and then you can head along home." Andrew just nodded and sat in a small chair to the side of the headmaster's desk, dropping his satchel to the floor next to him.
Just as he sat down, the headmaster came back in. "That's one that I'm not sorry to see the last of." He sat down heavily at his desk, pushing his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose.
"How are you feeling, Andrew?" he asked after a brief pause, without looking at him.
"Fine, sir. A little sore."
"You should be more careful around those three. I thought you would've learned that by now."
All Andrew could think about was the headmaster and Mrs. Hutch.
"Yes, sir . . . sometimes I forget."
The room was silent for a moment. Then the headmaster replaced his glasses and inhaled sharply.
"Yes, well, we can't have one of our most promising scholars getting into fights with his peers. I'm sure you did very well on the tests today, Andrew. Speaking of which, Terry, do you have the . . . ?"
"Yes, headmaster, right here." Mr. Bradford pulled a large stack of exams from his briefcase and set them on the headmaster's desk. "They're all ready to be sealed up and mailed. Are you going to do them now? I can drop them at the station on my way home if you'd like."
"I may take you up on that. I think I have the envelope back here somewhere . . ."
This is not going according to plan. I didn't think they would mail the tests so quickly. If I'm gonna do it it's gotta be now. This isn't how I planned to do it, but oh well . . .
"Um, excuse me, headmaster?"
"What is it, Andrew?"
"Well, there was something else . . ."
The headmaster paused. "Yes?"
"The other boys . . . well, when I came out, they were doing something. They had something propped up against the building, and they were all standing around it, but as soon as I came out they I saw it and they fought me. I don't know what was in it, but I thought I smelled smoke . . . and . . ."
The Headmaster and Mr. Bradford stood quickly. "Terry, you take the South wall. I'll check the North, and we'll meet in front. Hurry!" Both adults rushed out of the office.
As soon as the sound of running footsteps had faded, Andrew jumped up from the chair. He quickly closed the door of the office and turned to the stack of exams sitting on the desk. Thumbing through the pile, he quickly located his own answer sheet by the small red triangle in the corner of the cover sheet. The red pencil looked identical to the others in the examination room and had been easy enough to smuggle in.
Opening his satchel, Andrew pulled out another answer sheet. Carefully prepared (sweat stains and all) the night before, he gingerly substituted it for his original exam, taking care not to bleed on anything. I really hope that those answers I bought from that Cimbrian Central guy were worth it.
No sooner had he replaced the stack of papers on the Headmaster's desk when footsteps were heard outside in the hallway. Carefully sitting back down in the chair, he was just in time to see the headmaster and Mr. Bradford come back into the office, huffing and puffing.
"Well . . . huff . . . there's no sign . . . hooo . . . of any problems . . . . huff . . . thank goodness." They stood panting for a moment before continuing. "Thanks, Andrew . . . you gave us a bit of a scare, but I'm glad you mentioned it."
"I'm just glad that everything is okay, sir. Sorry to get you all out of breath." Andrew made sure to keep his voice as neutral as possible.
"No, no, don't be sorry. Look, why don't you head home now . . . what was I doing?"
"I think you were mailing the exams, sir."
"Ah, yes . . . let me finish that before you leave, Terry. Oh, and have you . . ."
But Andrew was already out of the office. He couldn't trust his face to stay expressionless as the headmaster looked at the exams . . . I can't give it away now. That would be a pretty stupid way to wreck it all . . . Come on Andrew, keep it together!
This time he checked carefully before exiting the building.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
006 -- Cimbrian Loyalty Oath
Memo
From: Cimbrian Central School Administrator
To: All Headmasters/Headmistresses
Re: New Pledge and Mandate
Dear Headmaster/Headmistress,
Due to recent events, the Bureau of Internal Affairs has released am updated Loyalty Pledge and Cimbrian Mandate. Please find them enclosed with this message. Both are to be displayed in all classrooms as per regulation and replace the older pledge and mandate.
As with the old pledge, please inform your teaching staff to commence each day of instruction with the traditional recitation. All students over the age of six are expected to have the pledge memorized. Younger students will not be expected to understand every word of the pledge, but all students over the age of eight should be able to recite and write the Loyalty Pledge. Should a student refuse or forget the pledge, light corporal punishment is recommended, including (but not limited to) the boxing of ears, a mild slap to the head, or in extreme cases, paddling.
Students are not expected to recite or reproduce the mandate until the age of twelve, due to it's increased complexity. All history and society faculty should make sure that their lesson plans accurately reflect the Cimbrian mandate and how it shapes our Nation's role in the world. At least one week's lessons should be spent on the mandate itself.
We all know how troubling recent events have been. These new documents are proof that Cimbria stands once again upon sure footing. They should be embraced whole-heartedly in the classroom so that our children may keep Cimbria strong.
Central School Administrator,
Edwin Straypelt
-----
The Cimbrian Loyalty Pledge
With this oath,
I give myself,
To serve my people and my state,
Her strength is vast,
Her power great,
And it keeps me from all harm,
I am her heart,
And her sword,
And the blood that fills her veins,
Cimbria.
From: Cimbrian Central School Administrator
To: All Headmasters/Headmistresses
Re: New Pledge and Mandate
Dear Headmaster/Headmistress,
Due to recent events, the Bureau of Internal Affairs has released am updated Loyalty Pledge and Cimbrian Mandate. Please find them enclosed with this message. Both are to be displayed in all classrooms as per regulation and replace the older pledge and mandate.
As with the old pledge, please inform your teaching staff to commence each day of instruction with the traditional recitation. All students over the age of six are expected to have the pledge memorized. Younger students will not be expected to understand every word of the pledge, but all students over the age of eight should be able to recite and write the Loyalty Pledge. Should a student refuse or forget the pledge, light corporal punishment is recommended, including (but not limited to) the boxing of ears, a mild slap to the head, or in extreme cases, paddling.
Students are not expected to recite or reproduce the mandate until the age of twelve, due to it's increased complexity. All history and society faculty should make sure that their lesson plans accurately reflect the Cimbrian mandate and how it shapes our Nation's role in the world. At least one week's lessons should be spent on the mandate itself.
We all know how troubling recent events have been. These new documents are proof that Cimbria stands once again upon sure footing. They should be embraced whole-heartedly in the classroom so that our children may keep Cimbria strong.
Central School Administrator,
Edwin Straypelt
-----
The Cimbrian Loyalty Pledge
With this oath,
I give myself,
To serve my people and my state,
Her strength is vast,
Her power great,
And it keeps me from all harm,
I am her heart,
And her sword,
And the blood that fills her veins,
Cimbria.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
005 -- Modern Machines
Complete transcript of an interview in the popular Cimbrian journal, "Modern Machines." Lieutenant and test pilot George Reynolds being interviewed by Lance Harrington about the new generation of steam cavalry. (continued from page 14)
Lt. Reynolds: So as you can see, Lance, there are several different types of mount, each fulfilling a very different role in the Cimbrian military.
Lance Harrington: That's fascinating, George. Let's talk about the mounts themselves. First of all, what powers them these days?
GR: Cambric, as usual. Most of our bots have four rods -- two standard rods that are in all the time, and two more that we activate when going into combat. The second two are engineered to release their energy over a much shorter time span and last about an hour, while we can operate for about two and a half days on the first set. This is why that supply train I mentioned earlier is so important when we're in the field.
LH: So your mounts are steam powered?
GR: Yes, and no. The cambric heats a boiler, but the steam is used to run a pair of engines that power most of the systems on each walker. Most of the actual movements are controlled by hydraulic fluid. There are also some electrical systems on the walkers, but that's a new invention and I'm not allowed to go into too much detail about it.
LH: What can you tell us?
GR: Well, I can say that it has to do with how the walker's movements are controlled. In the first few generations of machines, the pilot was seated at a bank of levers, or if he was lucky at a primitive control yoke. Now, however, it's a much more intuitive system -- each pilot is actually secured by their abdomen in an upright position, and their hands and feet fit into special grips. As they move their arms and legs, the walker's arms and legs move with them.
LH: But how do the pilot's movements translate into movement in their mount?
GR: That's where the new electrical systems are so vital. The pilot's control grips are mounted on a system of levers that allow a full range of motion. These levers, in turn, control a series of voltage regulators that feed electricty into a carefully manufactured cambric control core. Given certain inputs, then, the core produces certain electrical outputs, and through a system of electromagnets these electric impulses are transmitted to the hydralic systems.
LH: But I though cambric was only useful for storing and releasing heat?
GR: So did we, the control core is new and really sets this generation of cavalry apart from the older ones. Only recently did a Cimbrian inventor discover a way to make it interact with electical charges as well. It involves a combination of chemical etching and alloy layering -- quite expensive, but with the right tools an expert craftsman can etch an entire logic pattern onto a very small amount of cambric. We're still refining the process; every few months the mounts get their control cores pulled and replaced with new ones.
LH: So what does this new control system mean, big picture?
GR: Well, it means much faster mounts, first of all. Speed of movement was limited by the controls more than it was by our hydralics. Also, it means that pilots can be much more precise with their movements. We were really hampered by clumsy control yokes and complicated lever systems in the early generation of steam cavalry.
LH: What else is new? Anything you can tell us about?
GR: That's really the biggest change. Armament is still mostly sabres. We've got a couple types of mount that use carbines, but we still don't have a really reliable way to reload. Also, we're working on a tactile feedback system using pressure plates to give the pilot even more feedback about his environment, but that's still in the development phase as well. We've got to tune it so that they notice small forces but the impacts from combat don't break the pilot's arms!
LH: Sounds like an exciting time to be a cavalry pilot! Thank you so much for coming in, Lieutenant Reynolds. It's been a pleasure.
GR: Likewise.
Lt. Reynolds: So as you can see, Lance, there are several different types of mount, each fulfilling a very different role in the Cimbrian military.
Lance Harrington: That's fascinating, George. Let's talk about the mounts themselves. First of all, what powers them these days?
GR: Cambric, as usual. Most of our bots have four rods -- two standard rods that are in all the time, and two more that we activate when going into combat. The second two are engineered to release their energy over a much shorter time span and last about an hour, while we can operate for about two and a half days on the first set. This is why that supply train I mentioned earlier is so important when we're in the field.
LH: So your mounts are steam powered?
GR: Yes, and no. The cambric heats a boiler, but the steam is used to run a pair of engines that power most of the systems on each walker. Most of the actual movements are controlled by hydraulic fluid. There are also some electrical systems on the walkers, but that's a new invention and I'm not allowed to go into too much detail about it.
LH: What can you tell us?
GR: Well, I can say that it has to do with how the walker's movements are controlled. In the first few generations of machines, the pilot was seated at a bank of levers, or if he was lucky at a primitive control yoke. Now, however, it's a much more intuitive system -- each pilot is actually secured by their abdomen in an upright position, and their hands and feet fit into special grips. As they move their arms and legs, the walker's arms and legs move with them.
LH: But how do the pilot's movements translate into movement in their mount?
GR: That's where the new electrical systems are so vital. The pilot's control grips are mounted on a system of levers that allow a full range of motion. These levers, in turn, control a series of voltage regulators that feed electricty into a carefully manufactured cambric control core. Given certain inputs, then, the core produces certain electrical outputs, and through a system of electromagnets these electric impulses are transmitted to the hydralic systems.
LH: But I though cambric was only useful for storing and releasing heat?
GR: So did we, the control core is new and really sets this generation of cavalry apart from the older ones. Only recently did a Cimbrian inventor discover a way to make it interact with electical charges as well. It involves a combination of chemical etching and alloy layering -- quite expensive, but with the right tools an expert craftsman can etch an entire logic pattern onto a very small amount of cambric. We're still refining the process; every few months the mounts get their control cores pulled and replaced with new ones.
LH: So what does this new control system mean, big picture?
GR: Well, it means much faster mounts, first of all. Speed of movement was limited by the controls more than it was by our hydralics. Also, it means that pilots can be much more precise with their movements. We were really hampered by clumsy control yokes and complicated lever systems in the early generation of steam cavalry.
LH: What else is new? Anything you can tell us about?
GR: That's really the biggest change. Armament is still mostly sabres. We've got a couple types of mount that use carbines, but we still don't have a really reliable way to reload. Also, we're working on a tactile feedback system using pressure plates to give the pilot even more feedback about his environment, but that's still in the development phase as well. We've got to tune it so that they notice small forces but the impacts from combat don't break the pilot's arms!
LH: Sounds like an exciting time to be a cavalry pilot! Thank you so much for coming in, Lieutenant Reynolds. It's been a pleasure.
GR: Likewise.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
004 -- Ahmed the Conqueror founds Asfar
Continued excerpt from the Scrolls of Rahm, translated by Dr. Ahmad Ba of the Royal Asfarian Society of Thought.
Chapter V
And so Ahmed looked upon his people, the people of Jemahl, and saw that the tribes had been united. This pleased him. There had been much war and death, but Jemahl's will had been done. He was at this time almost eighty years old, and weary. But he knew that the people would not stay together, and that tribes would soon separate yet again, and it would all be for naught. This saddened Ahmed greatly.
King Ahmed journied back to the city of the Josites and spent several days locked in his quarters alone. His ministers were worried; was the king ill? There was much new business to attend to, but King Ahmed could not be reached. Finally, on the sixth day, he came forth, and made a great speech to all who were present.
"People, hear me! Jemahl is pleased that his people are together again. He has spoken to me thus. But he has told me more -- he is finally ready to give us a real task. He desires us to build him a city, a great city for Jemahl and the Lord Rahm! And he has said this city shall be at the edge of the desert, but near the great river, and up from Josite as well, so that we should never again be torn apart."
"And so I announce it -- today I leave for this new city." At this there was much amazement, for the King was very old. All his ministers and lieutenants tried to convince him not to go, but he would not listen. That very night he packed up a tent and some food in a plain pack and set out on foot across the plain, headed up from Josite. All the leaders of the house of Jos could not do anything but follow.
And so King Ahmed walked for five days. On the dawn of the sixth day, he came to the top of large hill. On his left he could see the river. Ahead of him was the desert. Behind lay Josite. On his right was the road to the house of Ebel. And Ahmed set down his pack, and said "Here. Here is the city of Jemahl. It will be named Asfar, the yellow city. Now, ministers, what was this business you had for me?"
And so King Ahmed and all his house set up their tents on the plains, and called it Asfar. Soon they began to build, houses and temples to Rahm and Jemahl, and quarters for all of the five houses. And Ahmed said, "Let there be five parts of the city, for each house to have, and make it so that the kings of the five tribes must stay in the city of god, for Jemahl says it shall be so. And let us build in the center a great temple to Jemahl and the god Rahm, and let no building stand greater than it, even my palace. And let us build this temple from the yellow stone of the desert and cap it's roofs with gold so that it shall always be as bright as the rising sun." And it was so.
And so King Ahmed looked at this new city, and was satisfied. The other four kings came to Asfar, and looked at the great temple and were amazed. King Ahmed had been cunning, and had made the kings move their houses to the new city. The four kings could not rebel when kept in the city away from their people. And so he saw that the people of Jemahl would not be seperated again, for the city of Asfar was more magnificent than any of the others.
And so now King Ahmed was very weary. But he saw one more thing that he must do. And so as he lay dying, Ahmed said, "Now I am leaving you. But the next king will not be Josite, and he will not be of my kin for I have no sons. So I leave it the hands of the God Jemahl -- for today and for ever after let Jemahl mark the true ruler of our people." And Ahmed the Conquered passed on from this world forever.
Now at this time there were four kings. Josite was in much confusion and had no king. The four kings met and said, "Now what will we do? Jemahl and Ahmed have brought us together, and we cannot go again to war for our people have suffered too much. But will Jemahl mark a new king as Ahmed said? How will we tell his mark? Surely there are many that will claim to be marked by Jemahl, for all the city has heard Ahmed's words."
And so there were. Scores of people arrived at the palace with soot or ink smudged on their body, but when each approached the temple to be crowned they could not enter. They all spoke of a bright light, and a winged spirit standing at the door who led them away with gentle hands. Finally there was no one else, and the four kings looked to one another.
The King of the Ebelites said "Jemahl has failed us. He has marked no one."
The King of the Abdun said "My people will return to the desert. It is our proper home."
The King of the Endites said "Yes, and mine to the rivers."
But the King of the Artmar said "Wait! Jemahl will answer. Have faith, brothers!"
Late that night, a lone man approached the temple. He also saw the spirit with bright wings, but this time the spirit smiled and opened the temple doors. The man walked in, and the spirit placed Ahmed's crown upon his head.
The next morning, King Ahmed was being taken from the palace to the temple to be burned. The four kings led the procession, with all the people lining the streets to see his body go by. But when they reached the temple, they were most surprised -- the man was standing at the temple doors wearing Ahmed's crown. "Who are you? Seize this man!" they cried, but he replied:
"Soldiers, stay your blades. I am marked by Jemahl to be King! For know that I am truly Da'ud, lieutenant of Ahmed."
"This is impossible!" they cried. "Ahmed said no Josite should be king!"
"But I am no Josite. I am of the house of Artmar, but was raised in the city of Jos. Behold Jemahl's mark!"
At this Da'ud tore his shirt, and all could plainly see the five pointed crown on his shoulder. It shone with brilliant fire, and all were amazed.
"Here, give me Ahmed's body, for none but I can burn the flesh of the king." And so Da'ud took Ahmed's body up to the highest level of the temple, and none could enter. There was a great clap of thunder, and a host of winged spirits surrounded the temple blocking the doors. And so Da'ud burned Ahmed's body, and became the second King of Asfar.
Chapter V
And so Ahmed looked upon his people, the people of Jemahl, and saw that the tribes had been united. This pleased him. There had been much war and death, but Jemahl's will had been done. He was at this time almost eighty years old, and weary. But he knew that the people would not stay together, and that tribes would soon separate yet again, and it would all be for naught. This saddened Ahmed greatly.
King Ahmed journied back to the city of the Josites and spent several days locked in his quarters alone. His ministers were worried; was the king ill? There was much new business to attend to, but King Ahmed could not be reached. Finally, on the sixth day, he came forth, and made a great speech to all who were present.
"People, hear me! Jemahl is pleased that his people are together again. He has spoken to me thus. But he has told me more -- he is finally ready to give us a real task. He desires us to build him a city, a great city for Jemahl and the Lord Rahm! And he has said this city shall be at the edge of the desert, but near the great river, and up from Josite as well, so that we should never again be torn apart."
"And so I announce it -- today I leave for this new city." At this there was much amazement, for the King was very old. All his ministers and lieutenants tried to convince him not to go, but he would not listen. That very night he packed up a tent and some food in a plain pack and set out on foot across the plain, headed up from Josite. All the leaders of the house of Jos could not do anything but follow.
And so King Ahmed walked for five days. On the dawn of the sixth day, he came to the top of large hill. On his left he could see the river. Ahead of him was the desert. Behind lay Josite. On his right was the road to the house of Ebel. And Ahmed set down his pack, and said "Here. Here is the city of Jemahl. It will be named Asfar, the yellow city. Now, ministers, what was this business you had for me?"
And so King Ahmed and all his house set up their tents on the plains, and called it Asfar. Soon they began to build, houses and temples to Rahm and Jemahl, and quarters for all of the five houses. And Ahmed said, "Let there be five parts of the city, for each house to have, and make it so that the kings of the five tribes must stay in the city of god, for Jemahl says it shall be so. And let us build in the center a great temple to Jemahl and the god Rahm, and let no building stand greater than it, even my palace. And let us build this temple from the yellow stone of the desert and cap it's roofs with gold so that it shall always be as bright as the rising sun." And it was so.
And so King Ahmed looked at this new city, and was satisfied. The other four kings came to Asfar, and looked at the great temple and were amazed. King Ahmed had been cunning, and had made the kings move their houses to the new city. The four kings could not rebel when kept in the city away from their people. And so he saw that the people of Jemahl would not be seperated again, for the city of Asfar was more magnificent than any of the others.
And so now King Ahmed was very weary. But he saw one more thing that he must do. And so as he lay dying, Ahmed said, "Now I am leaving you. But the next king will not be Josite, and he will not be of my kin for I have no sons. So I leave it the hands of the God Jemahl -- for today and for ever after let Jemahl mark the true ruler of our people." And Ahmed the Conquered passed on from this world forever.
Now at this time there were four kings. Josite was in much confusion and had no king. The four kings met and said, "Now what will we do? Jemahl and Ahmed have brought us together, and we cannot go again to war for our people have suffered too much. But will Jemahl mark a new king as Ahmed said? How will we tell his mark? Surely there are many that will claim to be marked by Jemahl, for all the city has heard Ahmed's words."
And so there were. Scores of people arrived at the palace with soot or ink smudged on their body, but when each approached the temple to be crowned they could not enter. They all spoke of a bright light, and a winged spirit standing at the door who led them away with gentle hands. Finally there was no one else, and the four kings looked to one another.
The King of the Ebelites said "Jemahl has failed us. He has marked no one."
The King of the Abdun said "My people will return to the desert. It is our proper home."
The King of the Endites said "Yes, and mine to the rivers."
But the King of the Artmar said "Wait! Jemahl will answer. Have faith, brothers!"
Late that night, a lone man approached the temple. He also saw the spirit with bright wings, but this time the spirit smiled and opened the temple doors. The man walked in, and the spirit placed Ahmed's crown upon his head.
The next morning, King Ahmed was being taken from the palace to the temple to be burned. The four kings led the procession, with all the people lining the streets to see his body go by. But when they reached the temple, they were most surprised -- the man was standing at the temple doors wearing Ahmed's crown. "Who are you? Seize this man!" they cried, but he replied:
"Soldiers, stay your blades. I am marked by Jemahl to be King! For know that I am truly Da'ud, lieutenant of Ahmed."
"This is impossible!" they cried. "Ahmed said no Josite should be king!"
"But I am no Josite. I am of the house of Artmar, but was raised in the city of Jos. Behold Jemahl's mark!"
At this Da'ud tore his shirt, and all could plainly see the five pointed crown on his shoulder. It shone with brilliant fire, and all were amazed.
"Here, give me Ahmed's body, for none but I can burn the flesh of the king." And so Da'ud took Ahmed's body up to the highest level of the temple, and none could enter. There was a great clap of thunder, and a host of winged spirits surrounded the temple blocking the doors. And so Da'ud burned Ahmed's body, and became the second King of Asfar.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
003 -- The Geography and Geology of Eos, and a History of Cambric Ore
Excerpt from the introduction to "Geography, Geology, and You: A Modern Look at the Formation of our World" by Hammond, Colmes, and Watson, 4th edition. p. 1183 S.E.
It is impossible to understate the importance of the connection between geology and the geography of our world. Mountains, seas, rivers, lakes, plains, forests, even the very weather we experience every day have all been shaped by the complex and fascinating history of geology. Without studying the earth beneath us, we could not understand how the rest of the world functions -- a comprehensive education that acknowledges the connections between these subjects is key to a modern scientific viewpoint. Every day new advances in technology and research give us fresh insights into the world below our very feet.
As we all know, Eos is shaped much like a large ring. The Inland Sea lies at the center of the continent, linked to the greater ocean by a series of straits and passages to the South. Water that empties from the multitude of rivers into the Inland Sea eventually flows out of these passages. Several smaller bodies of water stretch off of the Inland Sea, most notably the Cimbur Channel to the Southeast through Cimbria. The far North is dominated by frozen wasteland, while the East, West, and distant South are bordered by the greater ocean.
The continent of Eos is dominated by three large mountain ranges. To the West of the Inland Sea and across the Iram Desert lie the Jehara (je Ha' rah) mountains, a vast range running North to South. To the South of the Inland sea and stretching East are the Ifraetes (eh Fray' tees). And finally, East of the sea are the Greyspike mountains, also stretching North to South and spliting into two spurs in the North.
Of the three, the Jehara are the tallest and the oldest. Volcanic activity is nearly non-existent. Despite spanning for hundreds of miles and across multiple climate zones, most peaks in the Jehara mountains are snow-capped year round. Their great height has created the Iram desert -- warm, moist winds coming from the West are forced upwards, grow colder and dump their moisture in vast rain and snowfalls that define the far Western coast of Eos. Coming back down the East side of the mountains, the winds are dry and hot, scouring the Iram desert and creating a pattern of great dunes.
The Ifraetes are unique in stretching East to West instead of North and South like the other two ranges. They are newer geologically than the Jehara mountains, and have some volcanic activity. However, they are the shortest of the three chains in terms of average peak height, with only a very few having permanent snow-caps. They form the spine of a system of islands stretching away from the main continent of Eos to the East, with most volcanic activity concentrated in that region.
The Greyspike mountains are the newest of the three main ranges, though of course are still over a hundred million years old. It is a very violent mountain range, with several active volcanos across it's length. Second in average height, the Geryspikes are famous for bitter winter conditions, espeically in the Eastern Greyspikes which stretch far into the Northern wastes. Most importantly, however, the Greyspikes contain the largest exploitable veins of cambric ore in Eos.
A brief history of cambric ore is called for, due to it's overwhelming importance to the political, economic, and technological climate of today. It was first discovered in 1065 S.E. in the hills outside the village Camber inside the nation of Cimbria. A mineral at first resembling iron, it quickly begins to behave differently when refined. It melts at a temperature slightly above 1700 degrees, but after cooling and returning to a solid state it takes on very peculiar thermodynamic properties. The quantity of heat that cambric can absorb increases tremendously after this first hardening. Depending on the purity of the refining process, cambric can absorb from several hundred to several thousand times the amount of heat energy of the equivalent amount of iron or steel.
This introduces some complications into the refining process -- namely, cambric can only be melted once. The heat cost to melt cambric after it has hardened is prohibitive, as it can take several days of constant heat in the hottest furnace to break down high grade cambric metal.
The other strange property of cambric ore is it's ability to release this stored heat almost on command. A piece of cambric that has absorbed a great quantity of heat is almost indistinguishable from one that has not, except that it will be slightly lighter in color. Their temperature remain the same. However, when this piece is dealt a sharp physical blow at any point across it's surface, it immediately increases to a temperature of between three and four hundred degrees and remains at that temperature until the energy it has absorbed has been expended. Thus, heated pieces of cambric are treated very gently lest they go off prematurely.
The reason for cambric's bizzarre chemical properties is not readily apparent. The atomists theorize that cambric is a naturally occuring alloy, and that after being heated and cooled it's internal structure takes on some sort of unique framework. Alchemists, on the other hand, maintain that a subtle chemical change is actually happening inside the metal. Fluid heat theorists maintain that cimbric has a sort of natural gravity that acts on the weightless, invisible heat fluid. Whatever the reason, it's technological and industrial value is immense.
The story of containers in human history is long and rich. Relics of clay jars from almost ten thousand years ago have been found at the mouth of the Kabir river. Cambric, then, can be thought of as the next logical development -- a storage system for heat energy. Before the discovery of cambric, energy had to be stored and utilzed by chemical means in food and muscle, or by mechanical means through expensive and limiting canals. But with the discovery of cambric ore, we became able to store, transport, and utilize great quantities of energy as heat with relative ease.
Still, cambric did not come into widespread use until the perfection of the steam heat engine almost fifty years later. In 1102 S.E., Johnathan Copper, a Cimbrian, patented his "high-pressure" double acting steam locomotor, common predecessor to the majority of steam engines in use today. In his device, heat energy from either a fire or heated cambric rods was used to boil water in a large sealed container. This water turned to steam, which was fed to a high pressure cylinder and used to move a piston back and forth. These principles are still at the heart of most engines today, from the largest ship to the smallest children's toy.
These two inventions when taken together started an industrial and social revolution of unprecedented scale. Heat could be harvested from any natural source (whether by burning coal, dousing in hot springs, or even focusing solar rays) and stored in cambric. Handled carefully, it could be transported hundreds of miles before being put into a steam engine and being utilized on the spot. 1102 has been christened the "Dawn of the Machine Age."
Cimbria, having both the largest deposits of cambric and the inventor of steam locomotion, was the first to embrace this machine revolution. Today the great hot springs in Cimbrian territory at the foot of the Greyspikes are home to the largest industrial structures in the world. Huge silos of cambric rods are continually submerged and reheated in large pools fed by the hot springs before being distributed to industrial and military complexes throughout the nation. The Ifraetes mountains were also found to contain cambric, and the conflict over who would control those resources lasted for almost a decade. However, only trace amounts of cambric have been found in the Jehara Mountains to the West, a mystery that will surely play into the political situation of the future. A history of the rise of industry, however, is beyond the scope of this text -- it is enough to know that geology and geography are intricately linked to the study of these other subjects, and that nothing can be taken in isolation.
It is impossible to understate the importance of the connection between geology and the geography of our world. Mountains, seas, rivers, lakes, plains, forests, even the very weather we experience every day have all been shaped by the complex and fascinating history of geology. Without studying the earth beneath us, we could not understand how the rest of the world functions -- a comprehensive education that acknowledges the connections between these subjects is key to a modern scientific viewpoint. Every day new advances in technology and research give us fresh insights into the world below our very feet.
As we all know, Eos is shaped much like a large ring. The Inland Sea lies at the center of the continent, linked to the greater ocean by a series of straits and passages to the South. Water that empties from the multitude of rivers into the Inland Sea eventually flows out of these passages. Several smaller bodies of water stretch off of the Inland Sea, most notably the Cimbur Channel to the Southeast through Cimbria. The far North is dominated by frozen wasteland, while the East, West, and distant South are bordered by the greater ocean.
The continent of Eos is dominated by three large mountain ranges. To the West of the Inland Sea and across the Iram Desert lie the Jehara (je Ha' rah) mountains, a vast range running North to South. To the South of the Inland sea and stretching East are the Ifraetes (eh Fray' tees). And finally, East of the sea are the Greyspike mountains, also stretching North to South and spliting into two spurs in the North.
Of the three, the Jehara are the tallest and the oldest. Volcanic activity is nearly non-existent. Despite spanning for hundreds of miles and across multiple climate zones, most peaks in the Jehara mountains are snow-capped year round. Their great height has created the Iram desert -- warm, moist winds coming from the West are forced upwards, grow colder and dump their moisture in vast rain and snowfalls that define the far Western coast of Eos. Coming back down the East side of the mountains, the winds are dry and hot, scouring the Iram desert and creating a pattern of great dunes.
The Ifraetes are unique in stretching East to West instead of North and South like the other two ranges. They are newer geologically than the Jehara mountains, and have some volcanic activity. However, they are the shortest of the three chains in terms of average peak height, with only a very few having permanent snow-caps. They form the spine of a system of islands stretching away from the main continent of Eos to the East, with most volcanic activity concentrated in that region.
The Greyspike mountains are the newest of the three main ranges, though of course are still over a hundred million years old. It is a very violent mountain range, with several active volcanos across it's length. Second in average height, the Geryspikes are famous for bitter winter conditions, espeically in the Eastern Greyspikes which stretch far into the Northern wastes. Most importantly, however, the Greyspikes contain the largest exploitable veins of cambric ore in Eos.
A brief history of cambric ore is called for, due to it's overwhelming importance to the political, economic, and technological climate of today. It was first discovered in 1065 S.E. in the hills outside the village Camber inside the nation of Cimbria. A mineral at first resembling iron, it quickly begins to behave differently when refined. It melts at a temperature slightly above 1700 degrees, but after cooling and returning to a solid state it takes on very peculiar thermodynamic properties. The quantity of heat that cambric can absorb increases tremendously after this first hardening. Depending on the purity of the refining process, cambric can absorb from several hundred to several thousand times the amount of heat energy of the equivalent amount of iron or steel.
This introduces some complications into the refining process -- namely, cambric can only be melted once. The heat cost to melt cambric after it has hardened is prohibitive, as it can take several days of constant heat in the hottest furnace to break down high grade cambric metal.
The other strange property of cambric ore is it's ability to release this stored heat almost on command. A piece of cambric that has absorbed a great quantity of heat is almost indistinguishable from one that has not, except that it will be slightly lighter in color. Their temperature remain the same. However, when this piece is dealt a sharp physical blow at any point across it's surface, it immediately increases to a temperature of between three and four hundred degrees and remains at that temperature until the energy it has absorbed has been expended. Thus, heated pieces of cambric are treated very gently lest they go off prematurely.
The reason for cambric's bizzarre chemical properties is not readily apparent. The atomists theorize that cambric is a naturally occuring alloy, and that after being heated and cooled it's internal structure takes on some sort of unique framework. Alchemists, on the other hand, maintain that a subtle chemical change is actually happening inside the metal. Fluid heat theorists maintain that cimbric has a sort of natural gravity that acts on the weightless, invisible heat fluid. Whatever the reason, it's technological and industrial value is immense.
The story of containers in human history is long and rich. Relics of clay jars from almost ten thousand years ago have been found at the mouth of the Kabir river. Cambric, then, can be thought of as the next logical development -- a storage system for heat energy. Before the discovery of cambric, energy had to be stored and utilzed by chemical means in food and muscle, or by mechanical means through expensive and limiting canals. But with the discovery of cambric ore, we became able to store, transport, and utilize great quantities of energy as heat with relative ease.
Still, cambric did not come into widespread use until the perfection of the steam heat engine almost fifty years later. In 1102 S.E., Johnathan Copper, a Cimbrian, patented his "high-pressure" double acting steam locomotor, common predecessor to the majority of steam engines in use today. In his device, heat energy from either a fire or heated cambric rods was used to boil water in a large sealed container. This water turned to steam, which was fed to a high pressure cylinder and used to move a piston back and forth. These principles are still at the heart of most engines today, from the largest ship to the smallest children's toy.
These two inventions when taken together started an industrial and social revolution of unprecedented scale. Heat could be harvested from any natural source (whether by burning coal, dousing in hot springs, or even focusing solar rays) and stored in cambric. Handled carefully, it could be transported hundreds of miles before being put into a steam engine and being utilized on the spot. 1102 has been christened the "Dawn of the Machine Age."
Cimbria, having both the largest deposits of cambric and the inventor of steam locomotion, was the first to embrace this machine revolution. Today the great hot springs in Cimbrian territory at the foot of the Greyspikes are home to the largest industrial structures in the world. Huge silos of cambric rods are continually submerged and reheated in large pools fed by the hot springs before being distributed to industrial and military complexes throughout the nation. The Ifraetes mountains were also found to contain cambric, and the conflict over who would control those resources lasted for almost a decade. However, only trace amounts of cambric have been found in the Jehara Mountains to the West, a mystery that will surely play into the political situation of the future. A history of the rise of industry, however, is beyond the scope of this text -- it is enough to know that geology and geography are intricately linked to the study of these other subjects, and that nothing can be taken in isolation.
Friday, June 26, 2009
002 -- The Disappearance of Jemahl and the Five Tribes
Continued excerpt from the Scrolls of Rahm, translated by Dr. Ahmad Ba of the Royal Asfarian Society of Thought.
Chapter II
And so the gods dissappeared from Eos. At first the people were afraid. They knew not where their gods had gone, or why they had left. Life was good, but they felt dissastisfied and unsure -- how could they know Jemahl's will? The people prayed to thier god but he did not answer. Finally a man stood forward, and said he would go into the mountains and find their wayward god. Everyone called him foolish, but he left anyway. Many months passed with no word from the man. Most of the other men had proclaimed him dead, saying "he was foolish to pursue Jemahl. He has surely been killed." But it was not so; the man strode back into the village one day, strong and healthy, and said, "People! Listen to me, for I have spoken to the god!"
At this everyone was amazed. They gathered around him quickly, but not to closely for he was now standing taller than anyone else in the village. He continued, "I have been to Jemahl. He will not come back to us! But listen people, I have been given a name; I am Kuk!" And so Kuk was the first person to have a name.
And at this the people all started talking loudly, for they wanted names of their own. But Kuk was not finished, and yelled "Wait! Jemahl told me something else as well!" And the people were quiet once again. "I am your chief! I will decide where we live, and when to plant, and who my wives will be. I do this because Jemahl speaks through my lips and acts with my hands!"* And Kuk glared at the gathered crowd, daring any to challenge him. No one did, for they knew that god's strength was great.
And so the first chief of Jemahl's people was Kuk. He had four sons, and his third son . . .
Translator's note:
At this point the scrolls begin to map an exhaustive genealogical history of Jemahl's people. Although important at the time to maintain tribal cohesion, this history is largely irrelevant to the larger meaning of the text. For those who are interested, a complete list is included in Appendix B. This translation continues at the formation of the five tribes. At this point Jemahl's people have become quite prosperous -- note the change in language from "chieftain" to "king," as well as "village" to "city."
The third son of Racker was Abae . He had five sons: Jos, Ebel, Abdun, Artma, and Ende. Of his five, the eldest, Jos, was favored to become the next king. But on Artma's eighteenth birthday, something strange happened. Artma could not be found anywhere. Abae sent all of his best servants to look for him, but he was nowhere to be found. And so a great wailing went up from Abae and his whole house, for the King's son was feared dead.
Several weeks later, everyone had given up on Artma except for Abae. His grief for his lost son was so great he could not eat, drink, or rest. Walking in the garden alone at midnight, he heard a strange sound, and before he could move his son Artma came out of the bushes. "Father!" said he, and they embraced weeping. After some time, Abae asked him "Where have you been all this time, my son?"
At this Artma's face lit up. "Father! I have seen the most wonderous things. A winged spirit came to me in the night and led me up the river. At first I was afraid and would not follow, but he turned and I recognized him. He took me by the hand and we flew through the night, farther than I have ever gone. Finally, in the morning, we stood on a mountain and looked over a great waterfall that feeds the river."
At this his father was amazed, for as often as Jemahl's people sailed up the river they had never found a place like the one that Artma desribed. Artma continued,
"He said that he would give me and my children this land forever, and that great fortune would come to me when I return to it. My children and livestock will multiply, the land will be fertile, and the children of Jemahl will prosper. I came back here to gather my house and depart. Father, I must go!"
But at this Abae frowned. "Son, do you wish to divide the people of Jemahl? Surely, he will not be pleased at this. And what of your family? You would be lost to us again."
"Father, the face the spirit showed me was Jemahl's. It is god's will. I must go."
"But how will you get there?"
"Do you not remember? The spirit showed me the way; I remember every turn of the river."
Abae looked into his son's eyes and realized that it was true; he had to go, and Abae could not stop him. He embraced him again.
"Very well, Artma. Take your house and go with my blessing, and with Jemahl's blessing, and with the blessing of Rahm himself!"
Chapter II
And so the gods dissappeared from Eos. At first the people were afraid. They knew not where their gods had gone, or why they had left. Life was good, but they felt dissastisfied and unsure -- how could they know Jemahl's will? The people prayed to thier god but he did not answer. Finally a man stood forward, and said he would go into the mountains and find their wayward god. Everyone called him foolish, but he left anyway. Many months passed with no word from the man. Most of the other men had proclaimed him dead, saying "he was foolish to pursue Jemahl. He has surely been killed." But it was not so; the man strode back into the village one day, strong and healthy, and said, "People! Listen to me, for I have spoken to the god!"
At this everyone was amazed. They gathered around him quickly, but not to closely for he was now standing taller than anyone else in the village. He continued, "I have been to Jemahl. He will not come back to us! But listen people, I have been given a name; I am Kuk!" And so Kuk was the first person to have a name.
And at this the people all started talking loudly, for they wanted names of their own. But Kuk was not finished, and yelled "Wait! Jemahl told me something else as well!" And the people were quiet once again. "I am your chief! I will decide where we live, and when to plant, and who my wives will be. I do this because Jemahl speaks through my lips and acts with my hands!"* And Kuk glared at the gathered crowd, daring any to challenge him. No one did, for they knew that god's strength was great.
And so the first chief of Jemahl's people was Kuk. He had four sons, and his third son . . .
Translator's note:
At this point the scrolls begin to map an exhaustive genealogical history of Jemahl's people. Although important at the time to maintain tribal cohesion, this history is largely irrelevant to the larger meaning of the text. For those who are interested, a complete list is included in Appendix B. This translation continues at the formation of the five tribes. At this point Jemahl's people have become quite prosperous -- note the change in language from "chieftain" to "king," as well as "village" to "city."
The third son of Racker was Abae . He had five sons: Jos, Ebel, Abdun, Artma, and Ende. Of his five, the eldest, Jos, was favored to become the next king. But on Artma's eighteenth birthday, something strange happened. Artma could not be found anywhere. Abae sent all of his best servants to look for him, but he was nowhere to be found. And so a great wailing went up from Abae and his whole house, for the King's son was feared dead.
Several weeks later, everyone had given up on Artma except for Abae. His grief for his lost son was so great he could not eat, drink, or rest. Walking in the garden alone at midnight, he heard a strange sound, and before he could move his son Artma came out of the bushes. "Father!" said he, and they embraced weeping. After some time, Abae asked him "Where have you been all this time, my son?"
At this Artma's face lit up. "Father! I have seen the most wonderous things. A winged spirit came to me in the night and led me up the river. At first I was afraid and would not follow, but he turned and I recognized him. He took me by the hand and we flew through the night, farther than I have ever gone. Finally, in the morning, we stood on a mountain and looked over a great waterfall that feeds the river."
At this his father was amazed, for as often as Jemahl's people sailed up the river they had never found a place like the one that Artma desribed. Artma continued,
"He said that he would give me and my children this land forever, and that great fortune would come to me when I return to it. My children and livestock will multiply, the land will be fertile, and the children of Jemahl will prosper. I came back here to gather my house and depart. Father, I must go!"
But at this Abae frowned. "Son, do you wish to divide the people of Jemahl? Surely, he will not be pleased at this. And what of your family? You would be lost to us again."
"Father, the face the spirit showed me was Jemahl's. It is god's will. I must go."
"But how will you get there?"
"Do you not remember? The spirit showed me the way; I remember every turn of the river."
Abae looked into his son's eyes and realized that it was true; he had to go, and Abae could not stop him. He embraced him again.
"Very well, Artma. Take your house and go with my blessing, and with Jemahl's blessing, and with the blessing of Rahm himself!"
There was great amazement at Artma's reappearance the next day. Even more amazing was his decision to take his whole house upriver. His younger brother, Ende, was a skilled boatsman, and decided to go with Artma as his inheritance would be small otherwise. Their wives and families began to make preparations, along with some of the people of Jemahl who would go with them.
But Jos was dissatisfied. Artma's departure meant a diminshing in the people he was to lead. He called his other two brothers together and said:
"What is this? Our younger brother thinks he can steal from us so easily? We are the leaders of these people, not him!"
They replied. "You are not the king yet, Jos, for as long as our father Abae lives. He is letting Artma go -- it is the will of Jemahl and we must not interfere."
But still Jos was angry. And so, in the dead of night, he snuck in and slew his father as he slept. Then he ordered his men to go and sieze Artma and Ende before they could leave.
But Artma was forewarned. Ende had seen his brother Jos's anger, and so had gotten their boats ready in secret. Quickly Artma and Ende escaped with their houses up the river before Jos's men could arrive. Before they left, Ende's sailors chopped up all the other boats in the city, and Jace could not follow them.
When Ebel and Abdun found out what Jos had done the next morning, they were scared. "He is king now, and has gone against Jemahl's will. We will not stay here any longer, for surely god's wrath will come quickly to this place!"
And so Ebel and Abdun left the next day with their houses. As older siblings, they had strong houses, and so Jace could not stand against them both. They set out across the plains, journeying for some weeks until they found another river. Following it, they eventually came to the edge of a great desert where the river emptied into a great ocean. At the end of the river, they said to one another:
"Come brother, the land is great and empty. Let the house of Abdun take the left, and the house of Ebel take the right, and let us build a great city where they come together so we can be ever joined against Jos." And so built their homes at the mouth of the river and called it Merrech.
Meanwhile Artma and Ende reached the head of the river, just as the spirit had said. The people built their homes there, and called it Ammat. The land was fertile and the people were happy. Ende's house soon grew restless, however, and returned to the river, spreading along it's length with fast boats and great skill.
After all this Jos was very angry. The greater part of the people of Jemahl were with him, but he had lost many. The city of Jemahl was empty. His brothers were too far away to easily attack. Every time he sent his soldiers to attack Artma, Ende's cunning boatmen stopped his boats. Every time he sent his soldiers to attack Ebel, Abdun's swift warriors would attack out of the desert and burn his wagons until the host starved and was defeated. Jos could not reunite the people of Jemahl.
Thus, even as the brothers died, the five tribes of Jemahl were created from their five houses. The Josites, the Ebelites, the Abdun, the Artmar, and the Endites. The people of Jemahl were scattered, until the coming of Ahmed the Conqueror, a great King of the Josites.
End Chapter II
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
001 -- In the Beginning
Excerpt from the Scrolls of Rahm, translated by Dr. Ahmad Ba of the Asfarian Royal Society of Thought.
Chapter I
In the beginning, there was Rahm. And Rahm walked alone through the darkness, and was content for a time.
Soon, though, Rahm grew bored of the darkness. He grabbed a hold of the dark and twisted and twisted until there was form. The darkness was in some places rock, in some places water, and in some places air. Rahm found joy in exploring this new world he had created, and named it Eos.
But Rahm grew lonely with this life. After a time, he created a wife to accompany him through the darkness. He drew her out of his stomach, and she was lovely.
Even so, together they became wearied of this new world. Rahm could not think of what to do, but Rahm's wife suggested they make children to shepherd this world and create new things. Rahm and his wife created two children, a son and a daughter. Rahm pulled the bone from his left arm, and made his son Jemahl. He was brave and wise. Rahm pulled the bone from his right arm, and made his daughter Saripha. She was swift and loving.
Rahm truly loved both his children, and so he gave them great gifts. To Jemahl, he gave his left eye, an orb that burned so bright that it lit up the entire world when held above. To Saripha, he gave his right eye, a sphere that with it's shadowy glow could see through any substance.
But still the world was cold and still. So Rahm laid down on the ground, and gave his body to the Earth so that is should live. The only part that he saved was his heart, which he split in two and gave to his two children. Then Rahm was tired, having given his body away, and went to sleep.
Rahm's wife saw him lay down and give his body to the earth. She picked up his ashes in both hands and blew on them so that they should spread everywhere. Her hands became the wind that spreads life across Eos.
Rahm's children awoke upon the ground, wondering at what had happened. They could feel the life within the earth waiting to be released, but were puzzled. "Here, I will throw this light into the sky so we can see." said Jemahl, and threw Rahm's eye into the sky so hard that it stayed there. Everything was bright, and the life in the ground knew it could grow but knew not why. "Here, I will throw this light into the sky so we can know what we are." said Saripha, and she threw Rahm's other eye so high into the sky that it stayed as well. And the life in the ground knew why to grow but not how. So Jemahl and Saripha decided each light should share the sky, and so the world began to grow.
Much time passed, and Jemahl and Saripha wandered the world as life grew from the ground. Trees sprang from the hills, and grasses crept along the rivers. They made many things out of clay, twisting the earth into animals that roamed freely across the land. They played games, hiding things under the ground or on top of mountains for the other to find. Finally, though, they became bored, and could not think of anything else to do.
"What shall we do?" asked Jemahl.
"Let us see who can make the most wonderful creature from this earth, and compare." said Saripha.
And so they each went to their own parts of the world. Jemahl crossed a great desert to his own favorite dark clay at the mouth of the river. Here he crafted a wonderous creature, unique beyond all other creatures he had made so far.
Saripha instead passed through a forest, finding her favorite clay at the joining of two smaller rivers. Her bright, light clay was formed into an amazing creature, unique beyond all other creatures she had made so far.
And so Jemahl and Saripha swam to their favorite place, an island in the middle of the great sea. Both expecting to surprise the other, they showed their creations only to be surprised. The heart of Rahm within them had led them both to create the same animal! Their creations could build things just as Jemahl and Saripha could. Jemahl and Saripha taught them many things, and called them people.
And so the people decided to build a great city upon the island. And so the people built a great city with the help of Jemahl and Saripha. When the city was completed, they asked, "Who shall lead this great city?" And there was a great disaster.
Jemahl and Saripha fought. They both thought that their own people were the best to lead the city, and so tried to kill as many of the other people as they could. The people fought as well, inventing many terrible machines of war and destruction with the two siblings' help. Finally there were no people left, and Jemahl and Saripha fought for many years on the island alone.
But neither could beat the other. Jemahl was too strong, and Saripha too swift, and they both had half the heart of Rahm. Finally they lay exhausted on their island, and looking around them saw the destruction their quarrel had wrought. They wept at the pain and suffering that the people had suffered, and at their own ingenuity at destroying life -- but still they could not acknowledge that the other's creation was as good as their own.
Finally they decided upon a solution. Jemahl and Saripha would go to their own favorite places, and make more people from the clay. They would never meet again, for fear of creating another disaster like before. Each could be alone with their people, and could create as they liked without causing another disaster. Weeping, brother and sister embraced before leaving the island, never to see one another again. As they left, the island sank into the sea forever.
So Jemahl and Saripha went again to their favorite places, and again made people, and stayed among them and taught for a time. And so for a time things were good, until one day Jemahl and Sarihpa disappeared from the land. And so the people did not know what to do, and were afraid.
End Chapter I
Chapter I
In the beginning, there was Rahm. And Rahm walked alone through the darkness, and was content for a time.
Soon, though, Rahm grew bored of the darkness. He grabbed a hold of the dark and twisted and twisted until there was form. The darkness was in some places rock, in some places water, and in some places air. Rahm found joy in exploring this new world he had created, and named it Eos.
But Rahm grew lonely with this life. After a time, he created a wife to accompany him through the darkness. He drew her out of his stomach, and she was lovely.
Even so, together they became wearied of this new world. Rahm could not think of what to do, but Rahm's wife suggested they make children to shepherd this world and create new things. Rahm and his wife created two children, a son and a daughter. Rahm pulled the bone from his left arm, and made his son Jemahl. He was brave and wise. Rahm pulled the bone from his right arm, and made his daughter Saripha. She was swift and loving.
Rahm truly loved both his children, and so he gave them great gifts. To Jemahl, he gave his left eye, an orb that burned so bright that it lit up the entire world when held above. To Saripha, he gave his right eye, a sphere that with it's shadowy glow could see through any substance.
But still the world was cold and still. So Rahm laid down on the ground, and gave his body to the Earth so that is should live. The only part that he saved was his heart, which he split in two and gave to his two children. Then Rahm was tired, having given his body away, and went to sleep.
Rahm's wife saw him lay down and give his body to the earth. She picked up his ashes in both hands and blew on them so that they should spread everywhere. Her hands became the wind that spreads life across Eos.
Rahm's children awoke upon the ground, wondering at what had happened. They could feel the life within the earth waiting to be released, but were puzzled. "Here, I will throw this light into the sky so we can see." said Jemahl, and threw Rahm's eye into the sky so hard that it stayed there. Everything was bright, and the life in the ground knew it could grow but knew not why. "Here, I will throw this light into the sky so we can know what we are." said Saripha, and she threw Rahm's other eye so high into the sky that it stayed as well. And the life in the ground knew why to grow but not how. So Jemahl and Saripha decided each light should share the sky, and so the world began to grow.
Much time passed, and Jemahl and Saripha wandered the world as life grew from the ground. Trees sprang from the hills, and grasses crept along the rivers. They made many things out of clay, twisting the earth into animals that roamed freely across the land. They played games, hiding things under the ground or on top of mountains for the other to find. Finally, though, they became bored, and could not think of anything else to do.
"What shall we do?" asked Jemahl.
"Let us see who can make the most wonderful creature from this earth, and compare." said Saripha.
And so they each went to their own parts of the world. Jemahl crossed a great desert to his own favorite dark clay at the mouth of the river. Here he crafted a wonderous creature, unique beyond all other creatures he had made so far.
Saripha instead passed through a forest, finding her favorite clay at the joining of two smaller rivers. Her bright, light clay was formed into an amazing creature, unique beyond all other creatures she had made so far.
And so Jemahl and Saripha swam to their favorite place, an island in the middle of the great sea. Both expecting to surprise the other, they showed their creations only to be surprised. The heart of Rahm within them had led them both to create the same animal! Their creations could build things just as Jemahl and Saripha could. Jemahl and Saripha taught them many things, and called them people.
And so the people decided to build a great city upon the island. And so the people built a great city with the help of Jemahl and Saripha. When the city was completed, they asked, "Who shall lead this great city?" And there was a great disaster.
Jemahl and Saripha fought. They both thought that their own people were the best to lead the city, and so tried to kill as many of the other people as they could. The people fought as well, inventing many terrible machines of war and destruction with the two siblings' help. Finally there were no people left, and Jemahl and Saripha fought for many years on the island alone.
But neither could beat the other. Jemahl was too strong, and Saripha too swift, and they both had half the heart of Rahm. Finally they lay exhausted on their island, and looking around them saw the destruction their quarrel had wrought. They wept at the pain and suffering that the people had suffered, and at their own ingenuity at destroying life -- but still they could not acknowledge that the other's creation was as good as their own.
Finally they decided upon a solution. Jemahl and Saripha would go to their own favorite places, and make more people from the clay. They would never meet again, for fear of creating another disaster like before. Each could be alone with their people, and could create as they liked without causing another disaster. Weeping, brother and sister embraced before leaving the island, never to see one another again. As they left, the island sank into the sea forever.
So Jemahl and Saripha went again to their favorite places, and again made people, and stayed among them and taught for a time. And so for a time things were good, until one day Jemahl and Sarihpa disappeared from the land. And so the people did not know what to do, and were afraid.
End Chapter I
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