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Civfan
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Toronto, Canada
Sep 1999
time: 05:22
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building program begins.
 Attachment: ha_b3410.net
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germanos
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behind a firm ****, Rotterdam, NL
Apr 2002
time: 06:22
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Villagers who fled southwards decided in the end they'd better join the Assyrian empire. They named their city Arbela.
Exploration for other villages and huts continue.
Roads are being build to link the various Assyrian cities.
Attachment: assyria_b3410.net
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Kull
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El Paso, TX USA
Mar 1999
time: 22:22
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As the light breeze wafts across the palace veranda, it ruffles alike the soft linen hangings and the long dark hair of perfumed dancing girls departing through curtained doorways. The sight is a pleasant one, and the seated men they leave behind are clearly enjoying it. Although separated in age by many a season, they look much alike these two. Taller than most Egyptians, they otherwise have the same dark-hued skin and jet black eyes and hair. What really sets them apart from the mass of Nile dwellers - besides their privileged surroundings - is a distinct, almost visible air of command. It's easy to see that these are men who know what they want and are accustomed to getting it. But there is also a discordant element - the younger man takes the lead in all things, from summoning servants to directing the conversation. He is consummately at ease, while the older one appears strangely wary. This might seem slightly odd to an outsider, but those with intimate knowledge of these two would find the entire circumstance almost unbelievable. For these men who sit together as apparent equals are in fact the Nomarch of Memphis and his defeated, captive enemy, the ex-Nomarch Mekret.
A strong man, arrogant and proud, Mekret is still stunned by the events of the past few weeks. From Nomarch to bound slave to pampered guest - the rapid changes of fortune are scarcely credible. In fact, almost everything he's experienced has come as one shock piled upon the next. But Mekret is nothing if not clever, and he ticks them off in his head, one by one:
- The Spirit of the enemy troops: Never had Mekret seen soldiers so eager to follow a man into battle, and the contrast with his own army's performance is still a source of deep, burning shame.
- The Cites: Growing so quickly that it seemed to sprout from the desert before his eyes, and filled with the hum of trade and the visible trappings of a wealthy populace, Saqqara left a deep impression upon Mekret - until he viewed the far greater city of Memphis. By comparison, his own towns were a collection of hovels inhabited by sluggards. He had been a mouse, lording it over fleas!
- The Roads: Incredible. The open-country journey from Dahshur to Saqqara was one of four suns, while the greater distance from Saqqara to Memphis - entirely by road - was traveled in a day. A military man at heart, Mekret could only marvel at the advantages such speed would grant to an army.
- The Victory Procession: The most bitter memory of all, and Mekret winced still to think of it. But it was also the event that changed his life completely and forever - and brought him now to this all-but-impossible night. A sharing of bread, beer, and song with his erstwhile enemy.
But before Mekret's mind could delve further into that day of shame and wonder, his thoughts were suddenly returned to the present - for the Nomarch was addressing him. "Let me be quite clear Mekret, for it is important that we do not misunderstand one another. I am not a dissembler, and can barely suffer the presence of men for whom the truth is like wet clay - first taking one shape, and later another. We will not speak of that day in the plaza - but it brought you freely to this table, and now I bid you hear me out. The Memphis Nome is growing, but there are still powers left in Egypt who can match us, and the greatest of these is the Red-Crowned King of the Delta. Already we sniff and circle, he and I, like two lions seeking the same lioness. But to take him, I will need armies led by the very best. Men such as you Mekret. So tonight you hear the rest of my offer: Friendship and the Command of a new Troop of Skirmishers. These young puppies gather now in the fields North of Memphis. Train them, teach them, lead them into battle, and prove your valor to all the doubters - for they are legion. But I am not among that large company, for Ra himself visted me in a dream the night before we first met as enemies. Now dreams can be strange things, and aren't always what they seem - yet this one clearly foretold that you and I shall travel a long road together. The nature of this journey was obscured, but surely it's a path I would not follow were my companion not brave and true."
This was an astounding thing to hear, and Mekret stared in wonder at the Nomarch. His had been a long, hard life, and trust a commodity far rarer than gold. Yet this man he scarcely knew was offering him a place of power and distinction, and the chance to lead men in battle once again! But this time they wouldn't be squabbling over a few mud huts and terrified farmers. No, this was a chance to join a society on the rise, and take his place just a heartbeat from the helm! Every shrine to every God in Memphis was going to receive regular donations from Mekret for the rest of his life, of that he swore. Because there was, after all, only one possible answer. "Yes Nomarch. I will train and lead your armies, and as long as breath passes through these lips, so too will words of praise and thanks." And that night as Mekret entered his guest room in the palace, he smiled all the more. For there he discovered proof positive that the Nomarch was a shrewd and careful observer of men. The perfume, the tilt of the head, that languid gaze - yes, the girl awaiting him was the one he'd been most taken with during the earlier performance. The sight of her was intoxicating, and yet even as the dancer's scanty shift drifted from her shoulders to the floor, Mekret's thoughts were focused far from this room, "I fervently pray to all the Gods above and below to never, EVER, let me underestimate this man again!"
Attachment: egypt_b3410.net
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germanos
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behind a firm ****, Rotterdam, NL
Apr 2002
time: 06:22
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Bump
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Civfan
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Toronto, Canada
Sep 1999
time: 05:22
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oh no here comes the
Babylons................
Attachment: ha_b3400.net
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germanos
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behind a firm ****, Rotterdam, NL
Apr 2002
time: 06:22
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Word of the benevolent reign of Sargon and his sons is spreading fast. The many Skirmishers that roam the vast floadplains along the mighty river Tigris and its tribituaries encounter many tribes that welcome them wholeheartedly. This decade the two cities of Ashur and Tikrit have decided to pledge their allegence to Sargon , and became a member of the Assyrian Empire.
The Villagers in the region are not as willing though. They seem to have gattered strength, and they resist the units send to subdue them. Noteworthy is a small village near the Eufrates, that succesfully defeated the mighty Assyrian Spearmen regiment, that had such a long and glorius history over the last century and which members were so hardened and skilled. Confident this regiment was more or less undestructable, Sargon II did send this unit out on itself, and now different units are being redirected to avenge their fallen comrades.
It seems that a new strategy needs to be developped, and Assyria may find itself forced to end its expansion, and focus on the lands it now has…
Attachment: assyria_b3400.net
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Kull
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El Paso, TX USA
Mar 1999
time: 22:22
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"The Nomarch is not happy, no not a bit - not happy AT ALL!" The young slave bustled about the room, a worried look clouding his face, versions of the same refrain repeated again and again, his head shaking back and forth all the while. After two seasons of this behavior, Merneptah scarcely even notices - his old head instead pondering the problem set before him. The Nomarch was correct - the old methods for recording information simply didn't work any more. When Memphis was a small village, it was fine to use a sack of pebbles to represent an equivalent number of wheat sheaves. But the system quickly broke down when applied to the incoming harvests from multiple towns. And you still had to account for jars of beer, racks of dried fish, stacks of pottery - the list went on and on. Even harder to conceive, the Nomarch also wanted to track last summer's produce, and the harvests preceding even THAT! It was enough to make an old man long for simpler times, that was for sure!
But even as the thought arrived, Merneptah banished it. Yes, there was little to keep him busy in those days, but also less reason for the village to keep him alive. One bad harvest and the eldest and infirm could expect to be sacrificed. Oh, there wouldn't be sharp weapons involved, but slow starvation was just as effective. And a house of his own? With a slave - clucking hen though is? No, all things considered, life under the Nomarch was infinitely superior to the "good old days".
"Bah!!" Merneptah spoke aloud, surprising his slave and even himself, "That's enough backward-gazing old man! Think on this matter, think!" Ignoring the strange look from his suddenly silent servant, Merneptah's eyes wandered, as they always did, to his lovely young wife. There before him sat the greatest benefit of the Nomarch's new order. Her family had demanded a stiff bride price, but it was one Merneptah could afford and was glad to pay. No longer did a man have to be young and robust to earn a living, and for that Merneptah gave thanks to the Gods for the thousandth time. She was quite an artist, that little one. Look how she had beaten the wet papyrus into a mat, dried it in the sun, and now drew upon it using a palette of brightly colored clays and charcoal. The lifelike palms appeared to grow beneath her brush, the birds to take wing, even the wheat seemed to wave in the breeze....the....wheat....it truly looked like.....WHEAT!
Stunned, Merneptah let the idea wash over him like a great wave. Every hair on his arms stood on end, while a warm hum rose up and down his spine. OF COURSE! That was the answer. Who needed sacks of pebbles when one could draw the very likeness of the object to be counted! "Five Sheaves of Wheat, Six Jars of Beer, Seven Racks of Fish!" With a great cry Merneptah leaped to his feet, snatched the mat from the grasp of his stunned wife and raced out the door. Ahead lay the palace and Merneptah bounded toward it, his feet moving like those of a man forty summers younger, waving the papyrus like a wild man and all the while shouting joyfully at the top of his lungs, "PICTOGRAPHS! Yes! The answer is PICTOGRAPHS!"
Attachment: egypt_b3400.net
This has been downloaded 1 time(s).
Last edited by Kull on 22-11-2002 at 03:43
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Civfan
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Toronto, Canada
Sep 1999
time: 05:22
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anyd around we go.
Attachment: ha_b3390.net
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Kull
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El Paso, TX USA
Mar 1999
time: 22:22
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It was literally inconceivable - that was Ra's honest truth. Sekmut and his men had heard tales of the great Northern Ocean, but the smooth lakes and placid rivers of their experience could not prepare the desert-dwelling Memphians for the reality of this enormous liquid world. Before them - reaching to the horizon - stretched a vast alien vision filled with turbulent clashing waters. Yet even in this chaos Sekmut discerned a pattern, for like giant ripples from some massive stone, the grey waters rolled unceasingly toward shore, there to spend themselves in great explosions of sound and spray. It was deeply humbling, to be sure. But then this entire journey had been a revelation.
At the Commander's Council, Sekmut's orders were explicit - he was to lead the raw troops of the 2nd Skirmishers into the Nile Delta. Somewhere in the steamy lowlands lay the cities of the Red-Crowned King, and their mission was to seek him out. "The time for war is not yet upon us Sekmut", the Nomarch had been quite clear on that. "First we must know every creek, swamp, and hillock in the Delta. Look also for those who would ally with us, and gather information on the peoples and beasts which populate that strange land". Compared with the 1st Skirmishers' mission to Dahshur, this didn't sound too difficult - and at first it wasn't.
The initial journey followed the merchant trail northeast from Memphis, along the east bank of a large branch of the Nile. Here, far from the city, the sights and sounds were typical of those Sekmut had known all his life. A few small, extended-family landholdings dotted the peaceful river valley. Alongside the waters, songbirds darted from reed to bush while herons and ibis stalked invisible amphibious prey. Domestic animals could be seen grazing here and there, but more numerous by far were the wild creatures - predominantly herds of gazelle and wildebeest, and the tawny forms of those who hunted them. The edge of the Delta was just visible in the blue distance across the river, and though the landscape was different - thin forest interspersed with swamp - from here the change seemed gradual. Mind you, Sekmut wasn't doing much sightseeing. His first task - the search for river crossings - had proven frustratingly fruitless. Time and again the wading skirmishers found shallows leading out from the east bank, but none led completely across the Nile. During the last such search Sekmut noticed that across the river a series of nets had been deployed to catch waterfowl. Interest piqued, he focused harder and soon spotted their owner, a young hunter nervously watching the armed men from a hiding spot in the reeds. Hoping for information, Sekmut called him out and soon there began a long distance negotiation - involving a great deal of shouting and the waving of glinting gold - until finally a deal was struck. Swiftly packing his nets into a small satchel, the young man led them along from across the river until at last, on the seventh sun following their departure from Memphis, the 2nd Skirmishers arrived at a spot where the Nile shallowed to a fordable crossing.
In the ensuing face-to-face meeting the young hunter happily accepted a small gold nugget and - greedy for more - offered to guide the troops deeper into the riverine lowlands. Recognizing the importance of local knowledge, Sekmut agreed, whereupon the 2nd Skirmishers entered the Delta and followed their guide northwest along a shallow creek. But within a few hours the real difference between desert valley and swampy delta became apparent. The foliage rose up on all sides, and soon the men were hemmed in by woods and dense thickets of brush. Adding to their misery, insects swarmed up in great stinging clouds, forcing the men to stop and apply a thick coat of mud to their tormented flesh. Travel quickly slowed to a crawl as the soldiers laboriously traversed the sucking mud that led them from one marsh to another. By nightfall the men were exhausted, and their leader knew that something had to be done. In discussion with the young fowler, Sekmut learned that most of those who dwelt in the Delta traveled by means of small papyrus watercraft. Fortunately their guide knew how to construct these boats and it was knowledge he would happily share - for a fee!
"This birdman will take every speck of gold from my pouch before we're through with this accursed place!", thought Sekmut - but ever the pragmatist, he agreed to the terms. Given the ever-present stands of papyrus, building materials were readily available and the next day was spent in the construction of a small fleet of twin-prowed boats. Propelled down the creek by standing men with long poles, the rafts traveled slowly at first as it took a while to master this new skill. But soon the 2nd Skirmishers realized they'd discovered the key to travel in the Delta, as the little boats enabled them to cover 10 times the first day's distance in but a single sun. Also significant - and more immediately dangerous - was the discovery that their small rafts were a target for crocodiles and angry hippopotami. Several men were lost in confrontations with these creatures until Sekmut slowed the pace of their journey and added archers and spearmen to the lead craft. It was near the end of the second day's travel that they exited the mouth of a small river and faced the stupendous sight of the Great Ocean.
There was something hypnotic about the vision, and pulling back from his reverie Sekmut saw that all his men were subject to the spell. Even the fowler stared slack-jawed, as if the surging sea were molten gold. Smiling at this little jest, Sekmut roused his men with a shout, and directed them to pole across the inlet toward the mouth of another creek. The sea was magnificent, but they had yet to find a trace of their quarry - and it was time to resume the search. Perhaps it was an omen, though, for as they left the ocean behind and traveled through a narrow stretch of the new river, soldiers in the lead boat soon spotted a small village surrounded entirely by marsh. It seemed quiet - perhaps even deserted - but Sekmut was wary about the approach since they'd have to leave their boats and advance slowly through the mud. Surprise would not be possible and he could only pray that the inhabitants were friendly. Still, what choice was there?
Attachment: egypt_b3390.net
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Stefan Härtel
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Eddie's best friend
Jul 1999
time: 06:22
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Nothing to report from Persia.
Attachment: cy_b3390.net
This has been downloaded 1 time(s).
Last edited by Stefan Härtel on 27-11-2002 at 01:45
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germanos
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behind a firm ****, Rotterdam, NL
Apr 2002
time: 06:22
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Bump for the Hatte
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13-11-2002 00:00
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