Lands of War

From Atlantic Roleplay Wiki

Lands of War

by Anwar

Until the ends of time. Ost nagramee ramen. Till night doth come. Rieme let droh x'hum. And sweet darkness takes all.

For a time, the peoples of the land wandered in meaningless half tribes and near colonies. But then people took a liking to violence. This brought war.

Peoples of all sorts began taking sides in every conflict, paying no mind to the reasons behind the conflicts. The keen minds of tactitions and battle commanders became the commodities of the day. Tribes on the same sides merged and solidified. Nations grew and traded in these scholars and warriors, raising great training grounds and massive research libraries.

Competitions for the masters of war of each school created vast networks in setting up these events. Eventually, more schools where created to train in the arts of planning events of scale. Eventually, the people became more educated and the wars died down some. There was not a total peace, but most of the skirmishes were minor outbreaks on the edges of civilization. The classic war schools began teaching more theory than actual combat knowledge.

The schools stopped their usual habbits of cramming promising young people with as much knowledge as they could then sending them on their way after winning a few competitions in the name of the school. They began building real communities around the school, based on the school. A place for the students to actually live and interact, not the mock combat and constant group rivalries that where so common in the past. Soon, knowledge became the pursuit of the day, the mark of one's place in society. The intellectuals became the ruling body, the less wise cast down into the dregs of life.

Too soon did the people forget the teachings of the first wars. The lower castes began to rise up against their overbearing betters. They had little knowledge of war, or anything for that matter, most too poor to afford a good schooling, or any schooling at all. But then, the intellectuals had very little practical experience in such matters, as they had taken to conjecture and fantasy. Though the upper class had the great war machines and armouries to fortify their troops.

Despite their moneys and their knowledge, the rich intellectuals where overpowered by the hard earned survival skills of the poor working class. Bans where put on books, knowledge was to once again be passed along by way of epic orations and common folk lore. Once again the people took to mastering the arts of war. In time, the people returned to a constant state of war.

Each nation fighting a different struggle, each nation recognizing completely different geographical boundaries between lands. Everywhere you looked, disagreement was to be found. Every comment held an offense to someone. Around each corner, death lingered.

The battles of this new age rivaled even the greatest of days long past. In this perpetual state of destruction, society crumbled, and in it's place stood chaos. Instead of a monetary or bardering system, people once again took to the manner of obtaining possessions through use of force. Other than helpful advice one might glean from a drunken warrior, the training grounds and research libraries where no more. Any attempt at rule or organization was met with large mobs of citizens screaming aristocracy, leaving destruction in their wake.

The lands remained in a state of chaos for many ages, until the day when a tall warrior clad in the darkest of armor appeared, riding a pitch black steed. At first, the people ignored him wherever he went. But when their fear diminished, they began asking him who he was, where he came from, and what he was doing in their lands. He did not reply, he merely continued riding from area to area, surveying the land, and taking stock of the peoples. After a few weeks of this, people began to call for his head. If they could see his face, they would see that this made him smiley a very disturbing broad smile. The various warring groups slowly began to unite and plot against this stranger.

When they felt confident in their might and their plans, they found him and confronted him. At the time he was trotting his horse through one of the more remote valleys, far on the western border. By the time they found him, the people had amassed a great army. The rider stopped short and observed the aproaching crowd. Both he and his steed stood motionless as the people surrounded them. It did not take long for the first stone to be thrown, buy a rowdy young boy.

The boy was crushed by the rider's gauntleted fist as the crowd rushed him, those in the front getting crushed by the rush of those behind them. After a couple hours, the rider and his horse stood, blodied, surrounded by hundreds of dead bodies. The pair combed the land and killed every living thing, be they plant or animal. When at last they had satisfied whatever drove them, the man read from a scroll, and pointed to the ground. A black moongate opened, and out poured an army of fiends. The man smiled to himself and stepped into the gate. He had done the reaping, let the shades finish the binding and transport of the master's new army. He and his steed had other lands to decimate.