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Hello,
Never written a story based on a computer game before, but I've been really inspired by people on this board who have written around games thay have actually played. The democracy game is also testimony to the wealth of imagination sloshing about on this site.
This is just the first part of a story; based on a game I really enjoyed playing - one of those games where my decisions were based more on roleplaying than commonsense. It rambles of course, but I hope you can stick with it and let me know what you think.
" ...and from the central continent of the world came three great peoples. The Japanese, The Babylonians and The Tartars. In the heart of the land where people ran alongside the horses, from the nomadic barbarian Tartars, a leader emerged: the first Khan. This leader rose up to greet the gathering stormclouds of civilisation that were covering the world, by founding the first city, "Tarhai" and declared that his people were as attached to the land about them as they were to their very hearts..."
an extract from "F*cking & Fighting - The Tarhian Way" by fake historian, Gandalf Smackpony
Down on the banks of the great river, nothing disturbed the rushes except a small flat skiff, which nosed its way along the cover of the Tarhian shoreline. Dharman looked across the river to its distant foreign shores and then down at the tattered piece of parchment he clutched tightly to his chest. Brushing the sweat from his shaven head, Dharman made his way quickly through the rushes to the waters edge, his dark brow glistened as he peered through the reeds. The men on the boat were certainly expecting something and Dharman was fairly sure that it was a clandestine meeting to trade black market Spice, with the traitor he had personally executed not two hours before. A certain level of corruption was inevitable this far from the capital, right on the border - but Dharman was damned if he'd let it happen on his territory.
Dharman had the typical looks of many of the people of the southern Tarhian Empire. The children of Tarhian riders and Babylonian slaves made up much of the populace who toiled in the spice mines that ranged over the mountainous region south of the capital. Dharman had travelled north to Tarhai only once, as a child, when his father had been selected from his unit to return to the capital and train the young military recruits, in the acrobatic riding traditions of the ancient tartar chieftans, and the art of wielding the sword and the spear in battle.
The ten year old had been shocked at how different the people had appeared - such paler skins than his brothers and friends in the south, and how teeming with life the capital had seemed; all the roads paved with stone and the fortified gantries of the military's barracks keeping watch over the throngs of tradesmen and travellers beneath: all so different from his muddy village in the hill country of the borders. While Dharman was kept occupied during the journey, hunting and acting as squire to 'Dhah-Min' his father - burdened with horse fodder and walking barefoot alongside the mounted warrior, when they had reached the city, his father had placed him before him on his steed and they had made their way through the crowds, up the main thoroughfare to the palace gardens of the Khan.
Tarhia was at peace when Dharman was born. The threat from Babylon, south of the great river, had been neutralised through centuries of brutal conflict: Centuries that had seen the Tarhian military hold it's ground against repeated attacks by the merciless Babylonians, even when they had conspired with the foreign powers of the Persian Shah and the Indian Empire, to share Tarhia's fertile plains and spice-rich mountains between them. Tarhia's neighbours to the South West, the solemn and mysterious Shoguns, had watched and waited, yet offered no aid. The Tarhians had little knowledge of the world outside its borders until the Persian and Indian invaders had landed, but after the conflict had ended during the reign of the fifteenth Khan; an era of unrivalled industry with the promise of prosperity was ushered in by the families of the five cities, north of the capital.
The fifteenth Khan, a fiercesome rider called Yobo, had made peace with the Persian Shah, only after a hundred riders of his personal guard had massacred over three thousand of the invading Persian swordsmen at the gates of Tarhai, and sent the few survivors home across the oceans, burdened with the decapitated corpses of their dead.
Knowing that his style of diplomacy, though effective, would do nothing to encourage trade or friendship with his former enemies, (The Indian Empire had had a similar warning when its invading fleet had been allowed to return home with a handful of survivors and a basket of four hundred fresh elephant feet); Yobo handed the Khanship to his son 'Mar', and established a new palace in Opitai, where his descendents could rule the nation from the centre of the five cities.
an extract from "F*cking & Fighting - The Tarhian Way" by fake historian, Gandalf Smackpony:
"...Mar reigned over Tarhia longer than any Khan, before or since, outliving all twenty of his offspring except for his youngest daughter. Affectionally known to the populace as 'the gardener' he inherited lands still soaked in the blood of its enemies and propagated the 'quadrant plan' to make the land bloom. The Tarhians had a very relaxed attitude towards religious belief. A single dose of spice on the various public festival days was as close to ritualism as the people got; unless you can count a fanatical desire for procreation as religious. Mar Khan latched on to and decreed with vigour the very simple premise, that 'while there was no-one to fight - we may as well be f*cking.'
Mar's immense plan to cultivate the entire area of land within the quadrant of the five cities, deservedly earned him the title of 'the gardener' as well as the love and respect of the speedily multiplying populace. The vast area, a quadrangle with Opitai at its heart, with its irrigated roads and mineral rich mine fields wasn't completed until much later in Tarhia's history, but a great deal of the groundwork was done during Mar's reign which would further serve the prosperity of the Tarhian people."
By the time Dharman had visited Tarhai, the Khanship had passed to Mar's daughter; 'Song Mar', who - while maintaining the palace in Opitai for the council of the five families - had returned the Khan's seat of power to the capital. Dharman had knelt beside his father as the Khan had blessed them both and officiated Dhah-Min as the first knight of the Realm. Dharman recalled his visit to Tarhai fondly, although in his opinion, the training offered in the capital was secondary to the frontline experience he had received later as a teenager - battling along the border against the fierce Babylonian bandits.
War had followed peace for the people of the south, as sure as night followed day. Song Mar Khan was a vibrant and deadly warrior; more in the vein of her grandfather Yobo than her mild mannered 'gardener' father, and Dharman had warmed to her as soon as he'd clapped eyes on her. During the decade of waning peace that followed Dhah-Min's knighthood and the emergence of the elite knights of the realm, Song Mar strove to establish trade with the Babylonians, the Japanese, and the overseas nations that had once wished Tarhia their own.
It had been quickly discovered that the plentiful and intoxicating Spice, used only in limited spiritual pursuit by the Tarhian people, was greatly coveted by the other civilisations of the world. Through regular use, it induced a hunger and a desire for further use, that transcended the addictive: A desire that had begun to make the five families and their agents very rich indeed. Dharman, although only sixteen at the time, had been given the job of controlling the trade in Spice between the Mao family and the people of Babylonia. While the Babylonians could afford far less of the Spice than their larger rivals, they seemed to have a hunger for its effects that ran deeper also. Dharman had visited the Babylonian side of the river - an hour long journey on a rope-pull ferry that only had room for six very cramped horses and their riders - and he had been disgusted by the handful of shanty towns his riders had passed through. The people of Babylonia, with whom he shared his ancestry, had been reduced to nothing more than scavengers; too absorbed by their hunger for the Spice to build themselves something better from the land. The fury between the nations ran deeper than most could remember and Dharman and his contingent, although dressed for battle, were wary of staying on Babylonian shores for longer than a couple of hours and certainly never ventured towards the more densely populated areas where they would have been hung, drawn and quartered for the entertainment of the townsfolk.
The peace had been achieved, but it could never be maintained - as weak as the Babylonian kingdom found itself, it could never seem to shake the hatred and the jealousy that had driven it to make war with the Tarhians at the dawn of their ancient history. Border skirmishes became more commonplace and as Song Mar Khan prepared her mounted forces to challenge the Babylonians in an all out war, Dharman found his knowledge of the far side of the river ever increasingly sought by Tarhia's ruler, and by the five families who supported her.
The Mao family held a stake in every Spice deal going. While the Mao were the youngest of the five great families which commanded the Quadrant, they were by no means the weakest. Many of the Maos were held in high regard for their service and ability within the Tarhian Riders, a great deal of whom had been recruited from the southern border country where Dharman had grown up. The most talented of the Old palace guard in Tarhai bore the tell-tale darker skin and sharper brow of the sons and daughters of Babylonian slaves.
an extract from "F*cking & Fighting - The Tarhian Way" by fake historian, Gandalf Smackpony:
"While the Khans had ruled Tarhia since the dawn of time, there had not always been a Khan on the throne. The Khanship required the support of all five families who ruled the lands within the great Quadrant. Although Khanship was generally hereditary, the five families had the power to depose the nation's leader as easily as a child might discard an old toy, for unless the Khan had the support of the Tarhian people and had performed deeds of valour that were worthy of note in the historical texts, the Tarhians would rather have had no individual representation on the world stage. The Khanship had often fallen to a military officer of great valour, notably Yobo the Magnificent, fifteenth Khan of Tarhia who had no connection to the previous Khan, or indeed the five families, but rode to the throne on a tide of popular opinion, and over a huge pile of Persian corpses. Consequentially, there was little or no semblance of a class system, or indeed of racial prejudice within the borders of Tarhia, as every man and woman was deemed a potential Khan, if given the correct training and opportunitiy to prove themselves on the world stage."
Dharman remembered how his mother had sung to him of how he might grow to be the Khan if he protected his people well enough. For now though, he was an agent of the Mao, and a servant of Song Mar and it was time to focus on the business at hand. The skiff was drawing ever closer to where Dharman was hiding - the two Babylonian, 'merchants' visible on the open deck of the barge were scanning the riverbank - arrows notched in their strong, compact bows. These pirates were clad in the red of the Babylonian military, but one of the men's face gave away his true colours as that of a Japanese mercenary. It was true to say that the Shoguns had fairly taken their own portion of a Babylonian empire on the verge of defeat, but the recent skirmishes that Dharman and his riders had fought on the Tarhian banks of the river had produced the corpses of more than a handful of rogue Japanese swordsmen whose allegiance lay with no-one but the spoils of war. As the skiff drew alongside Dharman and snaked past him, he crouched and sprang deftly onto its stern - the blood thundering in his ears suprised him by drawing no attention from the front of the boat. Unsheathing his dagger, Dharman parted the cured hide tarpaulin which covered the rear section of the skiff. The guard inside turned with a start but his warning cry to his friends was transformed into a liquid gurgle, as Dharman's blade slit his throat. Although he had made no noise, the tension in the air seemed to alert the two guards on the prow and as they warily called their friends name and opened the hide at the front, Dharman burst forward, knocking the guard to the left into the water and slashing the guard to the right across his chest. The mercenary in the water gasped and struggled in the matted reed bed as Dharman pulled the Babylonian archer to his feet. The man was bleeding heavily from the deep cut that had revealed several ribs, and was clumsily untangling himself from his bowstring as Dharman pushed him back to the deck and relieved him of his weapon. Dharman let the parchment he had been clutching flutter to the deck next to the fallen guard's hand and he drew the bowstring back with the arrow he had notched. He spoke gruffly in Babylonian to the wounded pirate:
"You have trespassed for the last time on Tarhian soil. The sign on that parchment is the sign of the Kahn. Return now to your home and let all there know that whomsoever shall cross this river - crosses to their doom!" and with that Dharman released the red-feathered flight of the arrow which sung from the deck of the skiff into the eye of the floundering Japanese mercenary.
Dharman sprang lightly back to shore as his fellow riders emerged from the scrub and the reeds, laughing and cheering at a job well done. Dharman smiled but couldn't help feeling that it wouldn't be long before he'd be facing more than just a couple of desperate smugglers....
As the tropical rains burst above them with a thunderous roll, and his fellows splashed and jostled and slapped his back, Dharman let his head hang back and took a deep sniff of air, testing it for the rumour of war. (to be continued...etc.)
Never written a story based on a computer game before, but I've been really inspired by people on this board who have written around games thay have actually played. The democracy game is also testimony to the wealth of imagination sloshing about on this site.
This is just the first part of a story; based on a game I really enjoyed playing - one of those games where my decisions were based more on roleplaying than commonsense. It rambles of course, but I hope you can stick with it and let me know what you think.
" ...and from the central continent of the world came three great peoples. The Japanese, The Babylonians and The Tartars. In the heart of the land where people ran alongside the horses, from the nomadic barbarian Tartars, a leader emerged: the first Khan. This leader rose up to greet the gathering stormclouds of civilisation that were covering the world, by founding the first city, "Tarhai" and declared that his people were as attached to the land about them as they were to their very hearts..."
an extract from "F*cking & Fighting - The Tarhian Way" by fake historian, Gandalf Smackpony
Down on the banks of the great river, nothing disturbed the rushes except a small flat skiff, which nosed its way along the cover of the Tarhian shoreline. Dharman looked across the river to its distant foreign shores and then down at the tattered piece of parchment he clutched tightly to his chest. Brushing the sweat from his shaven head, Dharman made his way quickly through the rushes to the waters edge, his dark brow glistened as he peered through the reeds. The men on the boat were certainly expecting something and Dharman was fairly sure that it was a clandestine meeting to trade black market Spice, with the traitor he had personally executed not two hours before. A certain level of corruption was inevitable this far from the capital, right on the border - but Dharman was damned if he'd let it happen on his territory.
Dharman had the typical looks of many of the people of the southern Tarhian Empire. The children of Tarhian riders and Babylonian slaves made up much of the populace who toiled in the spice mines that ranged over the mountainous region south of the capital. Dharman had travelled north to Tarhai only once, as a child, when his father had been selected from his unit to return to the capital and train the young military recruits, in the acrobatic riding traditions of the ancient tartar chieftans, and the art of wielding the sword and the spear in battle.
The ten year old had been shocked at how different the people had appeared - such paler skins than his brothers and friends in the south, and how teeming with life the capital had seemed; all the roads paved with stone and the fortified gantries of the military's barracks keeping watch over the throngs of tradesmen and travellers beneath: all so different from his muddy village in the hill country of the borders. While Dharman was kept occupied during the journey, hunting and acting as squire to 'Dhah-Min' his father - burdened with horse fodder and walking barefoot alongside the mounted warrior, when they had reached the city, his father had placed him before him on his steed and they had made their way through the crowds, up the main thoroughfare to the palace gardens of the Khan.
Tarhia was at peace when Dharman was born. The threat from Babylon, south of the great river, had been neutralised through centuries of brutal conflict: Centuries that had seen the Tarhian military hold it's ground against repeated attacks by the merciless Babylonians, even when they had conspired with the foreign powers of the Persian Shah and the Indian Empire, to share Tarhia's fertile plains and spice-rich mountains between them. Tarhia's neighbours to the South West, the solemn and mysterious Shoguns, had watched and waited, yet offered no aid. The Tarhians had little knowledge of the world outside its borders until the Persian and Indian invaders had landed, but after the conflict had ended during the reign of the fifteenth Khan; an era of unrivalled industry with the promise of prosperity was ushered in by the families of the five cities, north of the capital.
The fifteenth Khan, a fiercesome rider called Yobo, had made peace with the Persian Shah, only after a hundred riders of his personal guard had massacred over three thousand of the invading Persian swordsmen at the gates of Tarhai, and sent the few survivors home across the oceans, burdened with the decapitated corpses of their dead.
Knowing that his style of diplomacy, though effective, would do nothing to encourage trade or friendship with his former enemies, (The Indian Empire had had a similar warning when its invading fleet had been allowed to return home with a handful of survivors and a basket of four hundred fresh elephant feet); Yobo handed the Khanship to his son 'Mar', and established a new palace in Opitai, where his descendents could rule the nation from the centre of the five cities.
an extract from "F*cking & Fighting - The Tarhian Way" by fake historian, Gandalf Smackpony:
"...Mar reigned over Tarhia longer than any Khan, before or since, outliving all twenty of his offspring except for his youngest daughter. Affectionally known to the populace as 'the gardener' he inherited lands still soaked in the blood of its enemies and propagated the 'quadrant plan' to make the land bloom. The Tarhians had a very relaxed attitude towards religious belief. A single dose of spice on the various public festival days was as close to ritualism as the people got; unless you can count a fanatical desire for procreation as religious. Mar Khan latched on to and decreed with vigour the very simple premise, that 'while there was no-one to fight - we may as well be f*cking.'
Mar's immense plan to cultivate the entire area of land within the quadrant of the five cities, deservedly earned him the title of 'the gardener' as well as the love and respect of the speedily multiplying populace. The vast area, a quadrangle with Opitai at its heart, with its irrigated roads and mineral rich mine fields wasn't completed until much later in Tarhia's history, but a great deal of the groundwork was done during Mar's reign which would further serve the prosperity of the Tarhian people."
By the time Dharman had visited Tarhai, the Khanship had passed to Mar's daughter; 'Song Mar', who - while maintaining the palace in Opitai for the council of the five families - had returned the Khan's seat of power to the capital. Dharman had knelt beside his father as the Khan had blessed them both and officiated Dhah-Min as the first knight of the Realm. Dharman recalled his visit to Tarhai fondly, although in his opinion, the training offered in the capital was secondary to the frontline experience he had received later as a teenager - battling along the border against the fierce Babylonian bandits.
War had followed peace for the people of the south, as sure as night followed day. Song Mar Khan was a vibrant and deadly warrior; more in the vein of her grandfather Yobo than her mild mannered 'gardener' father, and Dharman had warmed to her as soon as he'd clapped eyes on her. During the decade of waning peace that followed Dhah-Min's knighthood and the emergence of the elite knights of the realm, Song Mar strove to establish trade with the Babylonians, the Japanese, and the overseas nations that had once wished Tarhia their own.
It had been quickly discovered that the plentiful and intoxicating Spice, used only in limited spiritual pursuit by the Tarhian people, was greatly coveted by the other civilisations of the world. Through regular use, it induced a hunger and a desire for further use, that transcended the addictive: A desire that had begun to make the five families and their agents very rich indeed. Dharman, although only sixteen at the time, had been given the job of controlling the trade in Spice between the Mao family and the people of Babylonia. While the Babylonians could afford far less of the Spice than their larger rivals, they seemed to have a hunger for its effects that ran deeper also. Dharman had visited the Babylonian side of the river - an hour long journey on a rope-pull ferry that only had room for six very cramped horses and their riders - and he had been disgusted by the handful of shanty towns his riders had passed through. The people of Babylonia, with whom he shared his ancestry, had been reduced to nothing more than scavengers; too absorbed by their hunger for the Spice to build themselves something better from the land. The fury between the nations ran deeper than most could remember and Dharman and his contingent, although dressed for battle, were wary of staying on Babylonian shores for longer than a couple of hours and certainly never ventured towards the more densely populated areas where they would have been hung, drawn and quartered for the entertainment of the townsfolk.
The peace had been achieved, but it could never be maintained - as weak as the Babylonian kingdom found itself, it could never seem to shake the hatred and the jealousy that had driven it to make war with the Tarhians at the dawn of their ancient history. Border skirmishes became more commonplace and as Song Mar Khan prepared her mounted forces to challenge the Babylonians in an all out war, Dharman found his knowledge of the far side of the river ever increasingly sought by Tarhia's ruler, and by the five families who supported her.
The Mao family held a stake in every Spice deal going. While the Mao were the youngest of the five great families which commanded the Quadrant, they were by no means the weakest. Many of the Maos were held in high regard for their service and ability within the Tarhian Riders, a great deal of whom had been recruited from the southern border country where Dharman had grown up. The most talented of the Old palace guard in Tarhai bore the tell-tale darker skin and sharper brow of the sons and daughters of Babylonian slaves.
an extract from "F*cking & Fighting - The Tarhian Way" by fake historian, Gandalf Smackpony:
"While the Khans had ruled Tarhia since the dawn of time, there had not always been a Khan on the throne. The Khanship required the support of all five families who ruled the lands within the great Quadrant. Although Khanship was generally hereditary, the five families had the power to depose the nation's leader as easily as a child might discard an old toy, for unless the Khan had the support of the Tarhian people and had performed deeds of valour that were worthy of note in the historical texts, the Tarhians would rather have had no individual representation on the world stage. The Khanship had often fallen to a military officer of great valour, notably Yobo the Magnificent, fifteenth Khan of Tarhia who had no connection to the previous Khan, or indeed the five families, but rode to the throne on a tide of popular opinion, and over a huge pile of Persian corpses. Consequentially, there was little or no semblance of a class system, or indeed of racial prejudice within the borders of Tarhia, as every man and woman was deemed a potential Khan, if given the correct training and opportunitiy to prove themselves on the world stage."
Dharman remembered how his mother had sung to him of how he might grow to be the Khan if he protected his people well enough. For now though, he was an agent of the Mao, and a servant of Song Mar and it was time to focus on the business at hand. The skiff was drawing ever closer to where Dharman was hiding - the two Babylonian, 'merchants' visible on the open deck of the barge were scanning the riverbank - arrows notched in their strong, compact bows. These pirates were clad in the red of the Babylonian military, but one of the men's face gave away his true colours as that of a Japanese mercenary. It was true to say that the Shoguns had fairly taken their own portion of a Babylonian empire on the verge of defeat, but the recent skirmishes that Dharman and his riders had fought on the Tarhian banks of the river had produced the corpses of more than a handful of rogue Japanese swordsmen whose allegiance lay with no-one but the spoils of war. As the skiff drew alongside Dharman and snaked past him, he crouched and sprang deftly onto its stern - the blood thundering in his ears suprised him by drawing no attention from the front of the boat. Unsheathing his dagger, Dharman parted the cured hide tarpaulin which covered the rear section of the skiff. The guard inside turned with a start but his warning cry to his friends was transformed into a liquid gurgle, as Dharman's blade slit his throat. Although he had made no noise, the tension in the air seemed to alert the two guards on the prow and as they warily called their friends name and opened the hide at the front, Dharman burst forward, knocking the guard to the left into the water and slashing the guard to the right across his chest. The mercenary in the water gasped and struggled in the matted reed bed as Dharman pulled the Babylonian archer to his feet. The man was bleeding heavily from the deep cut that had revealed several ribs, and was clumsily untangling himself from his bowstring as Dharman pushed him back to the deck and relieved him of his weapon. Dharman let the parchment he had been clutching flutter to the deck next to the fallen guard's hand and he drew the bowstring back with the arrow he had notched. He spoke gruffly in Babylonian to the wounded pirate:
"You have trespassed for the last time on Tarhian soil. The sign on that parchment is the sign of the Kahn. Return now to your home and let all there know that whomsoever shall cross this river - crosses to their doom!" and with that Dharman released the red-feathered flight of the arrow which sung from the deck of the skiff into the eye of the floundering Japanese mercenary.
Dharman sprang lightly back to shore as his fellow riders emerged from the scrub and the reeds, laughing and cheering at a job well done. Dharman smiled but couldn't help feeling that it wouldn't be long before he'd be facing more than just a couple of desperate smugglers....
As the tropical rains burst above them with a thunderous roll, and his fellows splashed and jostled and slapped his back, Dharman let his head hang back and took a deep sniff of air, testing it for the rumour of war. (to be continued...etc.)
it's so not boring in my head!
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