Destiny of Empires [Diplo Game] [Story Thread 4 - January 2011]

[Germany (DoE)]

It was late at night. The stars at the Russian sky were twinkling incessantly. Catherine was restless this night too. The sleep was running away. She have spent the whole day praying for the soul of her dead cousin King Franzen of Neandor, but the prayers did not gave her answers nor ease of mind.

As is Neandor ancient custom the skull of Franzen has been prepared and taken to a remote and safe place. Fear not as his soul is rested and with special keepers.

The stars are bright Catherine and can be dazzling deceptive. They look so close yet are so far away like the star of Bethlehem.

I am not Christian but will meet you personally in the deer forests where your Chariot is near Neandor City. I am going to this place now. I like the forests but these are not so cold as the ones of my armies. I need to understand the many faces of Christianity and therefore know the hearts and minds of my Christian people.

You speak of Franzen as a relation, which he is but the family trees of Neandor go deep into roots that I am aware of. Franzen is very distantly related to you via the Grunzen line of course. Franzen is half French since the last Grunzen had a child to a French (or Gaulic at the time) concubine. This was Franzen.

However other branches of the Grunzen line remained in the North and a distant relative went to moscow eons ago. He blended into high society in Russia and I believe he is more closely related to you than any other Neandertal.

This man is a direct paternal ancestor of mine.

Snarg II

[Russia (DoE)]

will meet you personally in the deer forests

There is no way this to happen - our Virgin Queen does not meet with strangers in the woods, being they kings or not.

I need to understand the many faces of Christianity and therefore know the hearts and minds of my Christian people.

Then you should go to church or in a monastery and search connection with God, instead of arranging questionable meetings with revered ladies.

[Germany (DoE)]

The paranoia of Nordica

Queen Catherine rejects overtures from Snarg II

Surprise in Neandor City at Catherine's lack of adventure. Snarg II promise deer hunitimg (where the Southerly Mace and Russian Chariot are) with the royal party.

[England (DoE)]

Tales of Adventure and Exploration on a Mysterious Continent

While Admiral Columbus took his forces north to conquer the Americans, Henry Hudson explored the coast of South America. As he sailed along the coast of the beautiful, wild and tropical land, Captain Hudson was shocked to discover the delta of a massive river. This river dwarfed the Thames, the Nile and any other river the explorers had yet encountered. It seemed, initially at least, that the river was in fact another sea or channel. It was here that Captain John Smith parted company with Hudson. Smith left with a ship to further explore the river, Hudson continued east and south to map out the rest of the South American coast.

John Smith, a famous adventurer, mercenary and veteran of the Russo-Mongol war, was a natural to lead the expedition. While a brash young man, he was a skilled fighter and a charismatic leader. There was none better to lead the first group of Europeans to explore the interior of this strange and wild continent. All his skills and his instincts - as well as his luck - would be put to the test in the months to come.

Travel was not difficult at first, the mighty river was several miles across in parts, they had little contact with the shore. Smith made many notes of the flora and fauna he saw in the water. Giant otters, viscous piranhas and huge manatees all were spotted and recorded by Smith's crew. All were shocked to discover the first known encounters with fresh water dolphins and sharks. They saw huge fish, 10 feet long, that made for great eating for the crew. The massive fish, dolphins and manatees were often mistaken for mermaids or other mythical creatures. It was all to strange and fantastic to believe. This wild world couldn't be more removed from the hedgerows and farms they all knew from back home. This was a wild land filled with monsters and mystery.

For the first few months of the journey they stayed on the boats and interacted little with the land around them. They occasionally caught glimpses of natives, but gave them a wide berth. They appeared to be primitive, far more primitive than the Americans in the north or the Inca to the west. Exotic in dress and appearance, the savages wore feathers and little more than loin cloths to cover themselves. Smith made notes in his journal and continued writing down all that he saw and encountered.

Captain Smith guided his party down many branches and tributaries of the mighty river. He sought to head inland, west, before heading south again along the river. Eventually the rivers became smaller and smaller, and his caravel was too large and deep to continue on. He took what crew he could and continued on in the row boats. They became more acquainted with the jungle, the dense rainforest crowded the river on both sides. Sometimes overhanging so far and so densely it appeared to be dusk at midday. They sailed on, the river became a cave. A living, breathing cave. Native sightings stopped abruptly, but all the while Smith's crew had a sense they were being watched. Being followed.

It was then that they spotted their first native in days. A beautiful, nearly naked woman standing in the middle of the river, her arms outstretched. As they neared they began to hear the faint sound of singing. A lovely melody, it grew louder as they approached. The soft, sweet, alluring sound was irresistible. They couldn't help but sail closer and closer. Then, against all sense and the commands John Smith, some men jumped off the deck and started swimming to the tempting siren in the water. Having the willpower to resist the siren's call, John Smith and others in his party did their best to restrain and hold back the transfixed members of their crew. They did all they could, but despite their best efforts, a fifth of their crew dove off the ships and swam toward the sexy, half-naked native chick.

Then, out of nowhere, the sides of the river were suddenly lined with half-naked native chicks. Though instead of sexy temptresses, these women-warriors were strong, mean and armed to the teeth. These women appeared to be very tall, robust, fair of complexion, with long hair twisted over their heads, skins of wild beasts wound round their loins, and carried bows and arrows in their hands, with which they killed many of the explorer's party. Terrified, John Smith and his surviving crew rowed away as fast as they could and escaped the violent Amazon women. From then on, the mighty river would be known as the Amazon, for truly the ancient legend of Amazonian warrior women was indeed true, and here in this hell of a jungle they were. At last John Smith understood why the Inca were so afraid of the "Dark Territories".

[Inca (DoE)]

The empire had been alone for millennia, lost in the hills and dark jungles of their lost continent. For company, they had only the restless and primitive barbarian peoples of the Dark Territories and even more foul creatures that swarmed through the thick and muddy wilderness. From this, the Inca gained sickness, unending struggle, and a complacency. Their affairs, as typical of such isolated civilizations, were insular, despite early periods of exploration and creativity. Their artistic forms had stagnated for nearly one thousand years when the English arrived. Their government had changed, from bad to worse: from an uncaring aristocracy to a strong-handed monarchy. Their borders barely moved, their people slowly grew in number. As the Europeans and the Orient expanded at a great pace, the Inca withdrew into their homes, duly noted their ability to reproduce, didn't actually reproduce, and went to bed. "What's the point of bringing more people into this godforsaken land?" was the usual response when asked about the lack of reproduction.

It was a land ripe for the picking, and picked it was in due course by the English.

Finally roused from their stupor, the Inca began building their civilization to meet the standards of the Europeans that they were now learning about. They realized how backwards they were, and they had little recourse but to build, train, and procreate fast.

[Inca (DoE)]

The English have arrived, in their wake lie our dead.



They have taken our lands, burned our villages. They have no decency, they know only fire.



They take in the darkness, the darkness buries itself in their hearts.



They are curious. They wish to understand how we can suffer.



We will show them how they can.

[England (DoE)]

An Open Letter to All Nations
September 6, 760 AD

Now that nations are reaching out beyond their borders and ships can travel between continents with ease, trade is a topic on everyone's minds. Our merchants are undoubtedly the most savvy in the world and our financial sector is, as it always has, leading the world in their sophistication. I seek to open our borders will all nations as a diplomatic gesture of support and friendship. Truly this is my goal, as England has no enemies. Least of all among the civilized peoples of Europe.

However, after the signing of the Magna Carta under King John (OOC: Story on that will come later), not all matters of international policy and especially trade policy are at my discretion. Our merchant class and local nobles fear a trade imbalance. Exports bring them wealth and build our nation. I understand their economic plight and must protect their interests. If we open trade with all nations then suddenly cheap grain is flooding our shores from the Neandor, cheap consumer goods are flooding in from China and cheap seafood from the Vikings. Our local farmers, craftsmen and Anglers will be put out of business. As important as diplomatic good will is for us, we must always put our own people first. Economies are fragile things, and we must protect ours to avoid a disastrous trade imbalance.

So do not take offense if England does not allow trade from your nation. It has nothing to do with our diplomatic stance toward you, nor is it a statement on your status as friend or enemy. I must always think of our poor peasants working the fields and the noble... umm, nobles, who have expensive tapestry bills to maintain. Your understanding is appreciated.

- King Henry III


(OOC Note: I am behind on my stories, so it may get confusing as to who is leading my nation. Diplomatic missives, like this, and any PMs you may receive are from the current ruler, aka Henry III. Stories, take longer to write and often come out much later then when they are *supposed* to have happened. So, for those of you keeping score at home, the initial phase of exploration and colonization (which I am still trying to write about) occurred under the reign of King Richard. When Richard died, he left no heir, so the country descended into a period of anarchy and civil war between various claimants to the throne and the nobility which was only settled when the nobles backed Richard's brother, King John on the condition he sign the Magna Carta. His reign was short and was succeeded by his son, the current King, King Henry III. If I can find some more free time (and inspiration to write) then all of this will be covered in due course, in addition to all the fun colonization stories. Hopefully before next month!


PS - Is it OCC or OOC? I can never remember.)

[Inca (DoE)]

We live with the jungle, we are the jungle.
Let us kill the English, let them all die,
each alone.

Along our little trails, we will move at will
Along big open rivers, the English slowly sail,
Let them bring their fire, we will show them water,
a thousand little drops, will make one large deluge
and they will all drown, sunk by heavy armor
of darkness and hatred.

The men of Paycupat Chutcopa,
our axe through the thicket of white,
let the brown river turn red,
and be so full to turn the ocean purple.

The Essence blesses Paycupat Chutcopa
his men
our hope,
we honor you.

[America (DoE)]

The Man had been in his cell for a long time now. From time to time he received English visitors, asking him for information about the land, but they were few and far between. He had been moved from the ship a few days after his capture, and had been in this jail ever since. He had been visited by a man, calling himself Charles Cornwallis:


This man claimed to be the Viceroy of the Americas, whatever that meant. The Man had concluded that it probably meant that he was no longer his people's ruler.

His thoughts became more and more chaotic because of his solitary confinement. His anger at his downfall and his disappointment of the fact that none came to his rescue were eating away at him. He started rambling, muttering. He slowly lost his appetite. He became ill, sneezing and wheezing. And then, one day, he died. And with his passing ended the era of the red skin, and started the era of the white man.

[China (DoE)]

The time has come for punishment to be dealt out to the Mongols. You slaughtered our defenseless soldiers who were seeking refuge while healing their wounds. Out of nowhere you struck against your peaceful neighbor.

Our production and focus was on peaceful and uniting goals but you interrupted all that. While you were whipped by our friends the Russians you mocked us for sending scouts to their death at your hands.

While you mocked, we built.

Now that you see the mighty Chinese and Japanese armies on your borders you beg through the Russians for us to turn back.

TURN BACK? WE HAVE JUST ARRIVED!

What justice has been dealt out to avenge our fallen soldiers? What lesson has been taught to anyone that dare oppose the might Chinese and Japanese brothers?

Again you defer to cowardly tactics, by playing dead (ooc: not playing turns so I miss my own for 3 days now, not able to log in and even tech up...) while our armies stall and await honorably.

Now you will pay.

[England (DoE)]

Excerpts from the Journal of John Smith


Day 1

...and so it begins, our quest into the unknown. The wide, muddy river welcomes us, the beauty of its shores belie the dangers that lie within. But within we must go, armed with naught but our dreams. The dreams of men, the seed of commonwealth, the germs of empires.

Day 13

The old river in its broad reach rested unruffled at the decline of day, after ages of good service done to the race that peopled its banks, spread out in the tranquil dignity of a waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth...

Day 19

...in some inland post feel the savagery, the utter savagery, had closed round us--all that mysterious life of the wilderness that stirs in the forest, in the jungles, in the hearts of wild men. There's no initiation either into such mysteries. We have to live in the midst of the incomprehensible, which is detestable. And it has a fascination, too, which goes to work upon us. The fascination of the abomination--you know. Imagine the growing regrets, the longing to escape, the powerless disgust, the surrender, the hate.

Day 22

The conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter foreheads than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much...

Day 35

...in and out of rivers, streams of death in life, whose banks were rotting into mud, whose waters, thickened with slime, invaded the contorted mangroves, that seemed to writhe at us in the extremity of an impotent despair. Nowhere did we stop long enough to get a particularlised impression, but the general sense of vague and oppressive wonder grew upon me. It was like a weary pilgrimage amongst hints for nightmares.


Day 37

...when one has got to make correct entries, one comes to hate those savages--hate them to the death...

Day 44

...I couldn't help asking crewman Conrad once what he meant by coming here at all. 'To make money, of course. What do you think?' he said scornfully.

Day 51

Do you see him? Do you see the story? Do you see anything? It seems I am trying to tell you a dream--making a vain attempt, because no relation of a dream can convey the dream-sensation, that commingling of absurdity, surprise, and bewilderment in a tremor of struggling revolt, that notion of being captured by the incredible which is the very essence of dreams...

Day 53

...it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one's existence--that which makes its truth, its meaning--its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream--alone.

Day 56

The reaches opened before us and closed behind, as if the forest had stepped leisurely across the water to bar the way for our return. We penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness...

Day 62

...then I turned to the wilderness and for a moment it seemed to me as if I was buried in a vast grave full of unspeakable secrets. I felt an intolerable weight oppressing my breast, the smell of the damp earth, the unseen presence of victorious corruption, the darkness of an impenetrable night.

Day 65

I tried to break the spell--the heavy, mute spell of the siren's call--that seemed to draw my crew to her pitiless breast by the awakening of forgotten and brutal instincts, by the memory of gratified and monstrous passions. This alone, I was convinced, had driven them out of the ships, to the edge of the forest, to the bush, towards the gleam of fires, the throb of drums, the drone of weird incantations; this alone had beguiled these unlawful souls beyond the bounds of permitted aspirations...

Day 66

The horror! The horror!

Day 67

...I shall see this eloquent phantom as long as I live, a tragic and familiar shade, stretching bare brown arms over the glitter of the infernal stream, the stream of darkness.

Day 71

I raised my head. The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky--seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness...

[Ottoman Empire (DoE)]

"What do you call them?" Suleiman the Eagle, now aging, asked his son.



"Some call them the scourge of macemen, others the death of knights, others the protectors of cities."

"And you?"

"I call them peace".

Suleiman raised an eyebrow.

"Well, alongside of course the commitment of our foreign friends to mutual support."

[England (DoE)]

Henry Stanley Searches the Incan Empire for an Ancient Legend

While John Smith and his party were exploring the Amazon river and venturing deep into the Dark Territories of the jungle, another English expedition wound its way down the western coast of the continent. Led by the Welshman, Henry Morton Stanley, the expedition set out to better acquaint themselves with the Inca who were, it seemed, the dominant power on this continent, and to track down whether the stories of Captain John Cabot were indeed true. Without rivers or sea worthy ships, Stanley's party set out overland. Led by their Aztec guide, the group traveled through the jungle down the narrow isthmus toward Incan land.

The Inca were a strange people to be sure. Isolated away from all other civilizations, even the Aztec, yet intrepid enough to send explorers around the world. It is said that the Inca would travel 20,000 miles west to meet new civilizations instead of 5,000 miles north. Truly they are a strange and unpredictable people. It was into the depths of this land that Stanley would venture.

After being guided through the rough jungles and mountains by the Aztec guide, the expedition became considerably easier once within Inca land. Well crafted roads spirited their travel south. Incan cities and civilization was a wonder to behold. Hugging the narrow strip between the ocean and the mountains, the Inca built an impressive empire. Henry Stanley attempted to learn what he could, but the Incan language was nearly indecipherable. The complicated language was made even harder to untangle by numerous different dialects with different rules of grammar and vocabulary. Even the Aztec guide was unable to communicate with these strange mountain people.

It was amazing their party was able to travel without serious incident. While the people and buildings they encountered were a wonder to them, they were sure the pale skinned travelers from beyond the sea were equally wonderous to the Inca. They attracted a great deal of attention everywhere they went. Children ran after them attempting to touch their skin. People gathered by the roads to watch them pass.

The small procession soon headed south from Talcho, climbing the flanks of fantastic mountains, cutting past pale, blue-green glaciers, crossing through Inca cities and villages set besides rivers that sparkled in the sun, then traversing giant gorges on hanging Inca bridges while witnessing vast flocks of llamas and alpacas that seemed to extend for as far as the eye could see. Strangers in a strange land, these were (they thought) the first Europeans to witness an untouched Andean world never before seen, one with a thriving native civilization in all of its color and scarcely understood complexity. Everything was new—plants, animals, people, villages, mountains, herds, languages, and cities.

When the three travelers finally arrived in Capaco, after more than a month of being born ever southwards, they were stunned by what they beheld. Nestled on a broad valley between mountain and coast, the Incas’ golden capital appeared like some medieval town in the Swiss Alps, with smoke rising from the thatched roofs of its high-gabled houses and with green hillsides and snow-and-ice covered mountains rising in the distance. “This city is the greatest and finest that has ever been seen in this realm or even [elsewhere] in the Indies,” the English explorers later wrote the King. “And we can assure your Majesty that it is so beautiful and has such fine buildings that it would be very remarkable even in England.”

“[It is] full of the palaces of the lords,” wrote one eyewitness, “…The greater part of these houses are made of stone and others have half of the façade of stone…the streets are laid out at right angles. They are very straight and are paved with stones and down the middle runs a gutter for [fresh mountain] water and lined with stone…The plaza is square and the greater part of it is flat and paved with small stones. Around it are four palaces of [native] lords, which are the main ones in the city; they are painted and carved and are made of stone. There are many other buildings and grandeurs."

In Capaco they met a young man who approached them. Unlike all others their path has crossed who looked upon them with a mixture of fear and reverence, this man was different. He approached them with purpose. He spoke the first words of English Stanley's party had encountered in a month, "You look for white man? Come. Come. This way."

Amazed, Henry Stanley followed as the young man led him through the well organized streets of Capaco. He led them to a great palace. Inside, past the guards, he led them to an ancient looking man. His shaggy white mane stood out markedly from the Inca who surrounded him. His skin was tan and cracked, but unmistakedly English. His dress was that of the natives, but his blue eyes betrayed his true identity.

Stanley walked up to him and said, simply, "Captain Cabot, I presume?"

The old man nodded.

[Inca (DoE)]

Unfortunately, just as the party was about to meet with their fabled companion, they were expelled from the Inca capital forcibly. They were told that if the Inca were not so civilized a people, they would have their throats slit on the spot, but in the spirit of fairness, they were removed directly to their nearest border with the Inca. The War of Resistance had begun.

[Inca (DoE)]

The English boat moved slowly up-river, pushed not by the winds but by her men. Long sticks in the water, dabbling about in muddy darkness. Behind the boat trailed strung up flesh, bait for whatever the men could catch. Crocodiles and snakes are not so easily fooled, though. The day had been long for them: another twelve hours of grueling heat, humidity, and endless stretches of dark green and brown mixed with heavy rain, light rain, and heavier rain. They were accustomed to rain, yes, but this rain was completely unreasonable, it didn't have the restraint of proper English rain to it. Maddening, nothing here had any restraint. They lost theirs as well. The jungle made them feverish, sweaty and cold in the depths of heat waves. They took off their armor, their befeathered hats, their overshirts and jackets, finally their shoes. There was no sun to heat up their deck, no salt to burn their soles. And so they slowly and with much complaint went about their task of pushing tons of wood up a small corridor of water in the middle of absolutely nowhere. On occasion, some natives would appear out of the darkness, just to remind them that they weren't quite to nowhere just yet. Perhaps that was the worst of it, never even being able to find nowhere. They would pass one small village, watch as the jungle devoured it in a matter of seconds, and pass back on into a primeval world of complete solitude and nothingness. They would adapt to this new world, this empty land of vine and thorn and a thousand angry insects, enter a sort of non-existence, a calm embrace of nothingness, of no civilization, no culture, no society, family, or even a sense of self, a state without clear borders between their bodies and the world around them which swarmed and bit into them, taking pieces of them with it and consuming them slowly, integrating them slowly, as they slowly took piece by piece of the land and consumed it slowly. Just as they would come to some sort of understanding, another bend in the river would break this immersion, showing them another outpost of humanity, a reminder that they still were on Earth, still expanding the British Empire for its own sake it seemed, here a small fort bracing against the abyss of prehistory.

And so, they would burn it.

Today, though, they hadn't the motivation to burn anything, a small plague having settled among the small crew from some unknown and damnable fly, mosquito, or whatever it was, some part of the black haze that perpetually surrounded them and made their lives so much more miserable than they thought possible. So, they drifted slowly, pushed slowly against the world, and simply passed by the semi-nude apparitions that floated past them on their odd living boats of palms and banana trees and soil.

The sun lowered in the sky, and one of the crew remembered this to be a special thing, indicative of a certain state. Yes, indeed, night was coming, and preparations would have to be made, fires started, food cooked, and a docking of some sort accomplished. So, the call went out to do all these things, and stupidly the others -those that were not half-dead from parasitic infections at least- began the closing of another day in the life of a British expeditionary team.


As the sky quickly darkened, the English lit lamps on the ship to assist them in their duties. This, of course, only made the land appear darker still by comparison to their brightly lit ship. The Inca moths drew close to their fire. They had trailed the boat by one bend for most of the day. They were a scout party, a simple group of canoes and bows, out to find major English movements. This was not a major movement, but easy prey instead, how could they resist? Quietly, they docked with the land and snuck onshore, slowly winding through the jungle towards this new English sun.

As the crew prepared for night, they paid little heed to the blackness now surrounding them, to the many noises of exotic birds, monkeys, and insects that filled their ears, they only wished for some respite from the heat and bites and vomiting, but knew night only brought more of the last two and little change in the first. Joshua Burbridge stopped for a second to gaze into the void and listened to the lapping of the water on the hull and the miniature screams of a thousand unseen insects calling for some company in the night. The noise suddenly stopped, and silence fell upon his ears. Snapping strings and feathers tearing through air were the Inca response to the silence, for all emptiness should be filled. And in the cavity where Joshua's heart should have been, they placed a fine piece of warm iron and Jucapa wood.

Not ones to waste fine food and gin, the Inca boarded the boat, tearing the heads off of the sputtering remains of the crew, which in full found itself a quick burial in the river it had struggled so hard against all those weeks. The river would not forget their resistance, and quickly its fingers and teeth, a collection of bone-razor and scales, properly welcomed the English sailors. The Inca meanwhile opened their stores and merrily drank to their victory, picking the bloody prongs from the dead cook's hand and resuming his task of grilling some fishmeat. A feast for man and wild.