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  • #76
    What can you trust? Part II




    Herbalist skills are usually quite prized

    but the kings company had forcefully recruited any slaves they could gather, so was Patrick was in no better a position than the rest of the forced labor. Some of them were skilled blacksmiths, speaking in their strange tongue. The slave master beat any he found engaging in fire god worshiping rituals. Disk amulets where confiscated all owners whipped. None of the smiths even tried to build a god-fire.


    Patrick would have welcomed the light bringer himself, the weather was constantly deteriorating. After so many weeks at traveling across the forests, the soldiers and slaves were undistinguishable from one or the other. All covered in mud, their uniforms torn. He got himself through by chewing petersij leaves. They gave a nice buz, kept the worst of the fatigue away… it did its job well enough. Patrick at fist feared he might overdose the plant to toxic levels, but this fear melted away with each use.


    He thought things would never get better, the heavy loads. The freezing nights and the unbearable burden of supplies, were a hell to his fragile frame. Being a sickly child that kept the elders company, was not a good background for a load bearer. One day he collapsed and slipped into unconsciousness… his last thought were of death and of his father and mother both dead, for crimes he knew, he hoped they had not committed. The caprice of a local clan leader had got them an exotic punishment, one he heard originated in Carpathian: Implement. Fortunately the executors where not very skilled, his parents died quickly. Despite this he could not bear the sight, even after seven years. And as he pondered, death the sight was more vivid and unbearable than ever.


    ****


    It was a magical sight, as the clouds cleared, the suns rays touched the green land, transforming it. The forests where still humid from the rainfall, they where still a dangerus place, but there was light and they began to resembe the beautifull forests that he had traveled through during his childhood, while going to the capital with his father.

    As the days passed and his clothes dried, the sprits of the group improved, several other groups had emerged from the forests, reforming battalions. Many of these had apparently used the newly finished roads, they where in much better condition than the ones that followed the units commander's order "to take a shortcut".

    He cursed that they had taken the “short” path, but men can not predict the weather, and the condition of paths. If they could they would be gods. T

    Soon 500 men marched togheter as one, it was by scout reports only a few days before all the group would be united and march together on the wide and well maintained King’s Road. Right past the gates of the undefended capital, to protect its countryside from the assault of vicious barbarians.


    ****

    The anomalous weather had finally subsided, Bruno would not question divine providence, the rain and cold were sent for good reason. Never the less, he thanked Ozzy it was over, just the other day another slave collapsed; Bruno feared he would have to add his death, to the added bloated expenses of the long trek. But as the weather cleared, the slave master decided to add his burden to the cargo the slaves hauled. It was quite unusual that he collapsed, since his burden was one of the lighter ones, perhaps he was not used to heavy physical labor? No matter. Bruno had lists to check if he had some extra time he would look up this “Patrick”, if he did not he would instruct the others to leave him in the forest… Their mission could not be slowed for any reason. He fervently prayed to Ozzy to this end.


    ****

    Remi the II, King of France sat in his rather modest palacial quarters reading reports. As he awoke he was pleased to note the clear skies. He was further cheered by good reports from the field, the commanders had told him his that his guard had no difficulties traversing the forest. They had split into organized groups to better scout for optimal paths, quite ingenious. Remi would have certainly given thought as to promote the commander of the group, if it were not for the fact that it would have been easier for the thousand men army to have simply used the roads.

    He also didn’t like the fact that slaves where confiscated in Orleans to carry supplies, he ordered them be sent to Paris instead of continuing the march. The army and especially his guard should not be reliant on the influence of clan Corrin or Advak.

    Other news was not as good. True, new weapons had been forged in haste and had been delivered to the warriors. But still they could not pass for axmen division.

    He decided that on the final leg of the journey he would join his comrades and fight alongside them to save Paris from the wildling barbarian threat. The gracious aid of the Mongols, many of whom had in all but appearances become Frenchmen, had kept them at bay for many years, but recent torrential downpours, mean that Mongol chariots where stuck in the muddy paths and jungles of the north. Remi’s ambition to make France strong made him a man of no compromises. Brilliant success or epic failure where his only two options. He could not sacrifice a single road, a heard of Sheep, a grain of wheat. All the infrastructure he had build must stay, if his plan is to succed. After he would be done with her, France would be reborn.


    He sent a note to the Corrio clan leader, that he had ordered a special gift be brought to them. Amazingly those one hundred men represented almost the entire slave population of Orleans. He considered encouraging migration of some of the smelters of Paris to the Mongolian border region. Keeping them under control should not be a problem. Despite Orleans’s small population.


    What could they do, revolt together with their Mongol counterparts, equip the unsubdued barbarians in the steppes with swords and begin a barbarian raid ulike any in history? That though caused Remi to chuckle, afterwards he decided to meet the governor of Lyons to discuss change in policy, before heading north. He would also, after the campaign need to take the time the time to welcome a long awaited guest to the palace of Paris.

    (end of part II)
    Last edited by Diplo France; February 3, 2008, 17:47.
    'Impossible' n'est pas français.

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    • #77
      Quick historical note: The French army en rout to fight the Barbarian hoard, was composed of 4 axemen divisions. That's 20 000 indivduals, half of this where Dutch under French command. That was not minor.
      'Impossible' n'est pas français.

      Comment


      • #78
        for the glory of france I changed a line (in italics) and for the ease of reading I threw in some headers




        A small Mongolian yurt, in the light of the full moon, the skies clear, the stars burst with distant brilliance, the wind still and dead. No other tent hut can be seen on the open plain. It is quiet as beneath the water. No animal or insect can be heard. A faint breathing nearby.

        Then, a horrible shriek pierces the night. A voice, broken and crippled. A group of men clad in animal skins and decorated with blood and tattoes stand outside, looking to eachother in fear and uncertainty. The shriek turns into a wail, and then a rasping repeating rant.

        Shortly, it ends. The flap of the tent is pulled aside. A crone of seemingly infinite age, short and bent, with wild grey hair and white blue eyes steps out with uncertain steps. She stares with her blind eyes at the group of Mongolian Shamans. An accusing finger, a mere bone with wrinkled skin draped around it, is lifted at the group. A voice faint and shrill trembles out words, hateful, spiteful, taunting and vindictive.

        it is. as you. have. feared. the paths. of destiny. are crossed. the child. will not. be born. in your. land.
        Her body sags even further, and she slowly turns to reenter her tent.

        Please mother crone! a middle aged tattoed man bursts out. Is there nothing we can do? Is there no way to deter the darkness?

        The hag stops a short second, then whispers forcefully.
        the stars. are clear. the moon is full. the wind lies silent. there is no. doubt. nothing. can be done. the child. is born. on the incan side. of the wall. not for hundred years. yet it is. certain. as the plain. under me.

        And what about our other visions!? The darkness, the despair, the horror!? Is there nothing that we can do? We have heard the prophecy, and we have all seen how the boy would come to us. How he would be a great man ensuring the safety of our people for generations to come. How he would live long life and bring great wisdom. But now this will not come to pass! And instead of our bright future, we see only the most terrible darkness. -the volume and the desperation of the mans voice rises with each word, until he is screaming, rupturing the silence of the dormant plain. Despair throughout our lands! Mothers drowning themselves in rivers, leaving their newborn babies to starve! Men fighting amongst eachother like rabid wolves over a carcass! Brother kills brother! A darkness so horrible, that it will engulf the entire plain! And then.... spread!? It will be the end of the age of man! Surely this cannot be the will of the spirits, of the creator!? We beg of you mother crone!! Give us some way of averting this cataclysm!

        A low rasping breathing is heard. It becomes louder, a coughing, rising further a cackling wild noise, the crone laughs.

        cataclysm. will come. the end. of this world. as foreseen. by the lord of doom. Ragnarok! unavoidable. it can. only. be postponed. now. it is. hastened. unless. the boy. comes to mongolia. leave me be.



        Staring at the night sky as the crone reenters her tent, the Shamans look up with desperation. Some have collapsed, kneeling on the dust, lifeless. Silence prevails. Until at last a young Shaman speaks. His body is tall and strong, his voice bold and deep. He speaks with a French tone.

        My master Ogodei is a wise man. If we tell him of our prophecy, perhaps he can find a way? We are all well versed in the spirits, divinations, the threads of fate. But we know little of other nations. I have lived in France, and so different are they, that when two people meet anything is possible. Perhaps my master could accomplish the impossible? Bring the boy from one side of the wall to the other?


        An older shaman answers. Fool! The boy will be of royal blood. You think the Inca will send their own princes to become Mongol? The Oz is lost.

        You perhaps have given up. But I will not, I will relay our prophecy, and my master will do what can be done, and I know that for him, this will be a challenge, not a death sentence!


        As if the final word of the young shaman releases a pent up longing, from nowhere a breeze whispers, growing stronger,, the contours of the shamans and the yurt, fade. As if threads at their edge unravel and fly away like sand on the plain. The wind blows harder and the ancient men dissolve and disappear like dust in a windstorm. Cold grips, the wind blows stronger. A shutter slams, Ms. Summers stirs and wakes, bathed in cold sweat, she rubs her tired eyes and stares at the clock. 4:17 in the morning. Her feet touch the floor and she walks to her open window. 'Too hot without a wind, too cold with one' she mutters at the climate while closing the window. 'What was I dreaming just now, she wonders, a nightmare of some sort. She does not remember her dream, only that the starry sky of Mongolia shone down as if it was piercing time and space. I really hope that wasn't a spice dream, a thought materializes, but is quickly dismissed. I need to get some sleep, I have to lecture on the faiths of the ancient age tomorrow, she says to the empty room. She climbs back into bed and drifts off, dreaming of riding on the open plain...
        Last edited by Diplo Mongolia; February 3, 2008, 16:26.
        e-mail: diplo_mongolia [at] plomp.eu
        msn: diplo_mongolia [at] hotmail.com

        “The greatest happiness is to vanquish your enemies, to chase them before you, to rob them of their wealth, to see those dear to them bathed in tears, to clasp to your bosom their wives and daughters.” -Genghis Khan (allegedly)

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        • #79
          Taken from the Black Sabbath, holy book of the Church of Oz.

          II Incans: Pitr's letters to the Incan Nobles.

          Chapter 1.



          1. When first I set eyes upon the great city of Cuzco, already well along in development in comparison to those huts of the Rus lands of Moscow from which I had left neigh a decade before, I immediately knew that the Incan people were blessed by God. 2. Glorified upon our arrival, we were immediately set upon by a many friendly villagers, including holy men who spoke of the Sun God, entering upon a great feast. 3. Taught the language and knowledge of the Sun God, my people set forth to the north from your lands, and encountered a tribe whom further communed with your Sun God of Wrath and had learned that he was truly a benevolent God, who had destined our arrival to save them from the denizens of the forest, and return them to our homeland. 4. Long was the battle before we were victorious, and brought the people back to Moscow, where they explained to us that your Sun God, a being far greater than man himself, a being we shant understand, called himself Ozzy to the people, 5. and it is known that he created all the moon, stars, land, waters, and creatures of the earth for Man, whom he created in his divine image.

          6. Your views of the great Ozzy, a vengeful, Wrathful deity that intends to keep the people in check is misguided and saddens Ozzy greatly. 7. From the Altar of Stonehenge Ozzy spake unto me, 8. "Go, Pitr, go forth and right the wrongs, save the people of the world, do this in my name. The Incan people are wise, go to them first, for they shall listen." 9. It is with a gentle hand and an open heart that I implore you to heed my words, as is Ozzy's wish. 10. I begin a great journey, alone and with nothing but the clothes on my back and the supplies to obtain my own food and water to cross the mountains, hills, and grasslands, through the great Incan jungles to reach you that we may speak to your holy men to share knowledge. 11. I do this in Ozzy's name, and hope only that I will be welcomed upon my arrival, and that your wisdom will share in the word from Ozzy's true voice.

          Comment


          • #80
            War

            Although historians often disagree on the place and time, most credit the earliest declaration of war to the Mongols in roughly 1000 BC. It was during this time that Mongolian chariots ran down a Carpathian scouting party on the open plains of Mongolia.



            Some argue that conflicts between civilization and barbarian thousands of years prior were the earliest accounts of war. The question then becomes, must both parties be civilized for it to be considered war? And if so, what an extreme irony.

            At any rate, the war between Mongolia and Carpathia also holds the record for the longest war. Often refered to by historians as the Thousand Years War, it resulted in little bloodshed. The fact that the war was more political then physical strengthens the arguement that the Mongolian Carpathian Thousand Year War was indeed mankinds first declaration of war.
            Last edited by Diplo Carpathia; February 5, 2008, 00:53.
            YIM is CarpathiaCiv
            MSN is CarpathiaCiv
            Email is diplo_carpathia at plomp dot eu

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            • #81
              Ozzy must love all of this praise for him as THE God of Terra (well in HOTW XII anyway).

              "Our cause is in the hands of fate. We can not guarantee success. But we can do something better; we can deserve it." -John Adams


              One Love.

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              • #82
                Captain of Team Apolyton - ISDG 2012

                When I was younger I thought curfews were silly, but now as the daughter of a young woman, I appreciate them. - Rah

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                • #83
                  Message to the people of the Netherlands



                  Commander in Chief Christopher the Yankee, Chief of Virginia, Lord of Philadelphia

                  TO: Willem of the Netherlands
                  FROM: Foreign Minister Jonathan Jefferson

                  Hail Willem!

                  We have noted your message greeting our people and apologize for the time and duration of this response, it may have taken time for our missive to reach your court as we have no understanding of exactly where your nation is. It is quite apparent though, due to Dutch fishing boats, that it is accross the sea.

                  While initially alarmed at Dutch scouts in the Rocky Mountain chain, we take a positive and friendly approach to relations with the Dutch people and understand that they are a wise and honorable lot.

                  Trade shall be promoted between our two people, and thus our futures will prosper. However, we must warn that American land claims will be protected with the highest degree of hostility and with the lowest degree of discrimination.

                  We look forward to unending centuries of mutual peace and prosperity!

                  -J. Jefferson
                  Land of the free. Home of the brave.

                  Comment


                  • #84
                    The American Iron Age...

                    The American iron age began midway through the reign of Christopher the Yankee. In fact many historians would agree that there is a direct link between his reign and the American utilization of iron, which would also be very influential in the next thousand years of American history. Christopher wanted to mark his reign as Commander in Chief with the establishment and solidification of American borders; and this meant expansion. In the first months of his reign he had already made positive deals with Carpathia and successfully rebuffed numerous barbarian attacks against both New York and Richmond. Christopher saw this attacks as perpetuous unless there was action. In response he called for the creation of a unified American army, comprised of all the tribal states and personally commanded them in a campaign in the jungles south of Richmond (which is where Christopher erroneously believed the barbarians to have come from). While there was never a 'barbarian empire' as Christopher envisioned, he did find a large stretch of land and realized quite readily that if he were to capture and subdue this 'corridor' of jungle he could at least ensure security for Richmond and the new settlement of Boston from southern attacks. Thus he established Philadelphia at the southernmost point of the Rocky Mountains. The early history of this settlement is interesting; it was initially objected to by the Turks who felt that the Americans had placed the city much too far from their main territories, little did they know that Christopher had a much greater vision than a simple far-flung settlement; he was going to expand greatly and establish a veritable American empire...

                    The Jungles north of Philadelphia...

                    Unless it was night, it was always difficult to tell what time of day it was in dense jungles. The patrol had been on for weeks, or so it seemed, and thus far no barbarians had been found "I say we begin to make camp soon, I feel the night shall come at any moment." Thomas said, as he leaned against his axe.

                    "How can you even tell what time it is?" Nathan responded "It is so hot, with this damn armor on." he removed his armor "Captain Manning would kill me if he saw me do this" he continued as he stretched his neck and arms "Heavy axe."

                    "Agreed" Thomas replied, three more soldiers approached "Hello there boys! Find any barbarians?"

                    The three looked tired, but definitely not from battle "Of course not, this is a waste of time, I think the best of the fighting has passed us by, we were born at the wrong time" one axemen, Wesley, began.

                    "Well, depends on your outlook, are you boys about to break camp here?" the other, Martin, asked.

                    "Yeah Marty, we're going to settle up for the night, there's nothing but blackskins around here, and all they know about is the Mali, Mali this Mali that, they tell us that the Mali have suzerainty here, I say this though Yanks; if they have influence here, where are they're troops, where are they're settlers? Where are they're cities?" Thomas went on "We may not find barbarians here, but if we can get these damn jungles down we can establish ourselves here, there are so many rivers filled with fish, there are fruits, and seafood, this land is great it just needs a little blood and sweat." he said as he began to prepare the tents.

                    "Damn Thomas" Wesley said, nudging Nathan "You travel around with this guy? He sounds like General Arnold! How do you deal with it? And what the hell do you have against the Mali anyway Tommy?"

                    "Nothing, I just know what will happen. The Turks complained about Philly, and then the barbarians come and destroy it, are you going to tell me that the Turks didn't let them through?" Thomas replied.

                    "You think too much, that was a long time ago, and as you said yourself; there are no Turkish armies here, so how could they have stopped them?" Wesley said "Besides that, it isn't their place to protect our cities, and besides THAT you know the story anyway, it was a military blunder, we had more than enough soldiers to defeat them but our commanders got greedy, you should be the High Chief with all of your great ideas!"

                    "Well, you don't understand, if our people don't get what we need to defend ourselves all of these others around here could care less about what happens to America. The only reason we're friends with the Carpathians is because of land, that's it. You think we'd befriend those vile people otherwise?" Thomas continued "Of course not, and they don't respect us anyway, we could clear this jungles out easily anyway, just get this blackskins to work, that's all we've got to do and we've got the whole jungle cleared."

                    There was a strange silence, as if everyone knew the conversation would go in a bad direction "What are suggesting Tommy? Should we just scoop em up and make them work? You saw what happened in Aachen, you heared the tales of the slave revolts in Cuzco, we can't have that." Nathan replied "You know it wouldn't work out, besides all of that if we take slaves then what would prevent others from taking us as slaves in reaction?"

                    "What's preventing them from doing it now?" Thomas said angrily "This! This is what's stopping them!" he said as he held up his axe "And that's it, these people they don't care if we survive or not, just like the story of Britannia, they're just like York; they only befriend us until we benefit them, then when that's over we're finished. That's the lesson I learn from the tale, better to be York than to be the Yankees."

                    "Well that's great Thomas, but unfortunately for you" and then turning to Wesley "And fortunately for the world, you're nothing but an axeman, and that's all you're gonna be if you spend the rest of your life here in the jungles," Nathan began, just then a few more men arrived "Damn it, looks like Manning will be here soon, I'd better get my armor back on..."
                    Land of the free. Home of the brave.

                    Comment


                    • #85


                      Commander in Chief Christopher the Yankee, High Chief of Virginia, Lord of Philadelphia

                      TO: Malinese Foreign Representative
                      FROM: General Benedict Arnold of America

                      Hail Suamoro (?) of Mali!

                      As you may or may not be aware, American settlers have taken to settlement in the south along the coast of the great sea and in the area of the jungles east of the great Rocky mountain range. This is a formal declaration of American claims to this region, which will, for our intents and purpose encompass all lands east of the great Rocky mountain range and as far south as the end of this range.

                      We do not wish for this to be taken as a demand, for if you were to travel to these areas you will realize quite quickly that the Yankee people of America have already established themselves in these lands through settlements and a substantial military presence. The purpose of this missive is less to make a formal claim than it is to INFORM you of the claim and the fact that we have made good on said claim.

                      Our soldiers have noted that numerous tribes that inhabit these jungles are similar in appearance to the Mali and further consider the Mali the greatest of the black-skinned people, and to this we do not disagree. However, we have told these people that their admiration for your culture will have NO effect on American policy, and we will continue to settle and expand in these lands.

                      Please do not send armies or any other emissaries into the area without American permission, our men are already on high alert due to our recent destruction of barbarian armies in these jungles and we would not want an altercation similar to that of Carpathia and Mongolia to sour our relations.

                      If you have any further questions or requests please direct them to Mr. Jonathan Jefferson in Richmond, thank you.

                      -General B. Arnold
                      Land of the free. Home of the brave.

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                      • #86
                        Excerpt from the Black Sabbath, Book of Pitr, Chapter 6:13-20


                        13. His supplies having dwindled, Pitr the Pious entered the wilderness in search of food, water, and shelter from the terrible storm that rained upon him. 14. "Great Ozzy," he whispered in a mumbled prayer, "save me from starvation and deliver me from this tumultuous rain and these terrible winds. 15. I must complete the task you have set upon me, my goal nearly completed, I give myself to your power if that is your wish!"

                        16. The winds lessened briefly, before swirling more intensely around him. He turned his eyes to the skies to see the great funnelled cloud outlined by the lightning in the distance, and he knew at that moment that Ozzy was testing his beliefs and resolve once more. 17. Raising his hands to the sky in praise, he let out a brief cry when a blast of lightning split the great redwood before him in twain, clearing his view and illuminating the cave behind it.

                        18. "Thank you, Merciful Ozzy, for you have once again saved this unworthy soul," 19. Pitr concluded as he moved quickly to the cave, entering its dark depths to shelter himself from the growing storm. 20. Upon entering the cave, Pitr knelt and prayed in the darkness for many hours, the roar of the funnelled wind deafening him as it tore past him, carving a swath of destruction through the land.

                        ((As he was journeying from Moscow to Machu Pichu to spread the word of Ozzy the great, there was a period of many Random Events involving tornados destroying huge amounts of land throughout the countryside of Terra, and this is the Biblical rendition of that. Right up there with the Great Flood from the real Bible. I've got a motiff going here, figured I'd milk it for a bit! ))

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                        • #87
                          The Rape of Augsburg



                          With the rising sun that fateful morning they came from the wilderness like a wave of rabid wolfs.

                          "Run, run for your lives!", shouted the lookout while ringing the town bell feverishly.

                          Women and children scattered like mice while the adult males grabbed their hunting gear. Augsburg had no guard that day, no real soldiers to speak of.

                          The battle that insued was hardly a battle at all. The barbarians were ruthless and savage. Armed with stone axes, they made short work of what little resistance the town could muster.

                          News of the razing never reached Targoviste in time. After burning, pillageing and raping Augsburg until not one building stood and not one resident was left breathing, the savages turn their attention north.
                          Last edited by Diplo Carpathia; February 6, 2008, 01:06.
                          YIM is CarpathiaCiv
                          MSN is CarpathiaCiv
                          Email is diplo_carpathia at plomp dot eu

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                          • #88
                            Christopher the Yankee from America, in the name of Ozzy the Dual-Natured we give thee greetings.

                            Firstly, it is clear that news travels slowly, particularly to lands with whom we have no regular diplomatic contacts. It is with regret, therefore, that I inform you that Chief Soumaoro is no more. The "Bear Slayer" met his end in a dire battle against barbarian hordes who were threatening to pillage our lands. I, Chief Koboku, now sit in his place & hope that I can do honour to his memory.

                            The land of which you speak is little known to us, for it lies over the almost impassable mountain ranges. I am suprised that the peoples of that land have such strong memories of Malinese culture, as our scouts have not been through that land in many decades. However, as said scouts were led by "Bear Slayer" Kaniaga-or Chief Soumaoro-that is probably not suprising. He was, after all, more legend than flesh & blood mortal.

                            If we may be permitted to send either scouts or a small armed contingent, then we can ascertain the full extent of your claim-to ensure that it in no way conflicts with our future territorial ambitions. However, as our intent is to expand eastwards & northwards, we see this as highly unlikely.

                            The only thing we do ask is that you not expand into the area known to us as the Desert of Visions, as this land is most sacred to the Malinese people.

                            We aknowledge your courteous representations & hope that it marks the beginnings of a long friendship between our two empires.

                            Yours,

                            Chief Koboku of Djenne. Malinese Empire.

                            Comment


                            • #89
                              The Mali Chronicles Pt 3: Koboku, Djati & Ozzy the Dual Natured

                              Koboku was "Head Man" in the farming villages that lined the banks of the Niger river. He achieved his position after he designed a special type of Bronze Tipped Spear which could be hurled, in quantity, more than 500 metres. Now, he was being entrusted with guiding the families under his care to find a better life in a distant land.

                              The journey over rough terrain was often treacherous, but Koboku & his band of Spear-wielding skirmishers was able to keep wild animals at bay. In time, Koboku could see a hill from which, he hoped, he could get a better sense of the landscape. Taking just 6 of his most trusted javelin bearers, Koboku climbed to the top of the hill to survey the land about. The Niger River continued on towards the north, & beautiful green hills lay to the North-West. The hill he stood upon was the same yellowish colour as the ones outside Timbuktu &-upon the plains-wild bovines went to and fro. "Yes," said Koboku "I think those hills over their will do nicely.

                              Koboku returned to his clans, & led them towards the hills he had seen earlier. Within a week, the foundations of the town of Djenne had been put in place, & the clans slept rough at night with their flocks of sheep not too far away.

                              One night, after dinner & just before most of the families were about to go to bed, one of the Chief Shepherds came to Koboku saying how he had just received a strange vision which he wanted to recount.

                              "Well sir" said the shepherd, whose name was Mari Djati "I was sitting by the campfire with my family, when there was this sudden, blinding light.

                              "When I opened my eyes, I saw that I was surrounded by a group of human-like, yet ethereal figures."

                              "Did you recognize these figures?" asked Koboku. "Indeed I did, sir. They matched the description of the Loa given us by Chief Soumaoro.

                              "Legba, Samedi, Gran Maître, Gran Bois, Maman Brigitte & Boli Shah were all there, as were all the others."

                              "What did they do?" asked Koboku. "Well, Samedi & Legba each took an arm & led me towards this grand building, bedecked in gold & jewels. Inside, I saw this tall figure, bathed in white light."

                              "Who was it?" asked Koboku, getting more & more intrigued.

                              "Well, Legba called him Bondye-or 'Good God', but Samedi called him Ozzy-but I assumed that both must correct after a fashion.
                              "What was odd was that, when I looked upon Ozzy Bondye I noticed that-if 'he' moved-he appeared to change: sometimes he was male, sometimes female; sometimes he was all white light, other-times all darkness; sometimes he looked good & beneficent & other-times he looked malign & evil."

                              "What do you think that meant?" inquired Koboku. "Well sir, Ozzy spoke to me and said 'I am the creator of this world & all things within in, both material & spiritual. As such, I am comprised of all things within this world, male & female; light & darkness; good & evil-I am the Dual Natured God.'

                              "He also said that, though he was glad that we honoured his spirits, the Loa, he was disappointed by the rather haphazard manner in which it was being done. He said he wanted the honouring of the Loa-& himself-to be elevated to the status of an Organised, State-supported religion."

                              Koboku considered what had been said & knew what needed to be done. Clearly this was a sign that, for the new town of Djenne to be a success, due honour had to be given to the Loa & Ozzy Bondye-the Creator. Thus, once the first homes were built, a makeshift Spirit Summoning area was built, & Djati was made it's first official Houngan. So Djenne became the focal point of the rebirth of the Vodun faith, & it spread quickly to the Capital, Timbuktu. Chief Soumaoro was particularly keen to embrace a new interpretation of the faith he had brought to the Malinese people. Houngan Djati became the first figure-after Soumaoro himself-to be chronicled in the first Malinese writings that were about to take shape. Koboku himself became a favoured counselor of Soumaora & the closest thing to a son & heir. Yet he was most content just tending his sheep, & helping to tame the wild cattle that roamed the plains around Djenne. Yet significant events abroad were going to disrupt that quiet life for good!




                              Last edited by Diplo Mali; February 6, 2008, 09:18.

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                              • #90
                                OCC: Mail remove the first screen quick! Redo it with hidden interface. And the second one tells me you are building a wonder.Try to use minmal city interface option or at least black the classiefed things out.

                                To get backround info on French Bronze age mythology take a look on the newly edited page two.



                                French Heroic Age Mythos:
                                Fragments, comments & interpretations



                                Collected fragments of the sagas and stories of the exploits of Marc the adventurer.



                                “In the age when forests were dark and cold, when fire demons walked Terran, there were heroes and beasts that men had not seen and shall not see again. Among them was Marc the adventurer, favorite of the gods.”

                                “As the Francophone tribes came unto this world, the Gods said: Lo, you shall not be given life everlasting, your bodies shall age and die, and never shall you escape this, for all Gods view your rebellion against the Sun as beastly and ungood.”


                                “Among the first men and clans, many set to explore the lands, among them few were greater than Marc.”



                                “He ventured east. He traveled over the beautiful hills of Orleans, claiming them for France in times when the lands of the world had no owners. He went to the north over the jungles and forest and there he saw a great blue river, he called it the Loire. He also met strange folk in these lands…”

                                Credited with exploring the lands to the west of Paris. He is said to have named the Loire and to have made contact with what where most likely the Dutch. A legend of allegorical nature, states that he tricked the natives of a settlement into giving his clan all their gold.

                                “In those days Mongol scouts reached Paris. The king of the clans asked their permission to enter the steppes. He sent a fast runner to Marc, but the runner came late…”

                                Interestingly he is said to have sought immortality beyond the Loire a similar theme to the legends of Remi. Climbing a mountain (it is assumed that this is Mount Marc) in search of Ozzy, he did see him and the gods dining; they were surprised and left the mountain immediately, for men were not supposed to see the Gods in this life. But…



                                “The gods left, but on the table Marc found and ate ambrosia, he would never age or die of disease. But divine bodies are not like those of men, he paid a price. He fell to the ground in pain, his veins burned with fire in his blood, he would have died for his blasphemy if not the last of the gods who remained saw him. He… She was Artemis, and she looked upon Marc and saw he was of good build, his mind in reverence of nature. Her heart unmoving for millennia, moved and thoughts like those of all women entered her, so she said to him: “I shall save you from death, but you must follow me to the Jungles of the East, to spend your nights with me and hunt the beasts I command you to hunt.” “



                                Remi asked if he shall be blessed with eternal life and Artemis responded that it was not a blessing, since she would eventually tire of him, and when she would, he would have to leave her woods and jungles of France and go to lands where she did not dwell. She would not bare him children, for she wished none, he was also not to take a wife, mistress or have a child for she was a jealous lover. Thus he would remain without child or heir, and would have to leave his clan.



                                “Marc ventured south exploring the steppes of the Mongols, the land was very different from the hills of France. He came near a Mongolian trading camp, the Mongols fearful of a undying warrior demanded he leave their lands. The King ordered him to comply. After this he remembered his promise to Artemis, even though it had been many years, only a day of the gods had passed. None the less he would soon be tardy and Marc knew better than to anger the gods.”

                                The first part is most likely a relatively accurate account of the earliest talks among Mongols and French. Marc is said to have bypassed Paris on the instructions of Artemis, perhaps fearing he would be influenced by the other Gods.
                                Last edited by Diplo France; February 6, 2008, 14:31.
                                'Impossible' n'est pas français.

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