|
|
Post by fairies wear boots 👢 on Jan 6, 2023 19:13:41 GMT -5
𒂍𒀭𒈾 Let it be not forgotten, that summer (emesh) in which a tailed-star scorched across the sky, marking a great movement in the heavens - a herald of change. Perhaps it was the Bull of Heaven, or else a display of Inanna. "Alas, storm after storm swept the Land together: the great storm of heaven, the ever-roaring storm, the malicious storm which swept over the Land, the storm which destroyed cities, the storm which destroyed houses, the storm which destroyed cow-pens, the storm which burned sheepfolds, which laid hands on the holy rites, which defiled the weighty counsel, the storm which cut off all that is good from the Land." Decades of drought and famine were abruptly followed by several years of high rainfall; the mountains, rooftop of the underworld, gave way and swept down upon the Land, drowning rivers, fields, and villages in a red, muddy wetland. A feverish memory remains in the survivors of a night-long deluge submerging the great city of cities - beautiful temple of temples, Unug. Neither Utu nor Nanna showed mercy, leaving the people in shadow and hail, ash and fire. Violence. Murder. Unpleasant it was to witness your neighbor crack open another's skull with a cudgel over small disputes; marriage-beds were violated and the temples emptied. The divines had ordered this - what had caused their fury? What crime or imbalance demanded the deaths of so many and the corrupting of those who remain? Priests and elders howled at each other while their young men spilled blood in the streets, citizens filing into vague notions of "us" and "them" - "them" always being, of course, the reason for the Flood. No amount of revolution could sate the divines; Enlil's eye of death was transfixed upon the black-headed people, continuously pouring out the waters of the great abyss upon the people. The flock thinned and thinned and soon, surely, the shepherds must relent.
|
|
|
|
Post by fairies wear boots 👢 on Jan 6, 2023 19:42:50 GMT -5
𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭 𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭 Upon a humble rise, a dune of sand and clay shaped like a turtle's back, a band of survivors awake. A large rock and a string of palms created the shelter they'd chosen for the night before, and with Utu ("sun") rising above the mountains to the east, you could now see the small streams on the hillock's far flank - weaving in and out of the Idigina, that immortal river which surely comes from the abyss. For now, it seemed to have settled back into its natural temperament, but it was unclear with heaven's wrath would cease. The one with a sense of sovereignty, a figure going by the name of Nemur, rests beside their staff - a vague mark of authority when wielded by the elderly - while their fellows stir about their camp, preparing a small porridge to fuel the day's toils which lay unknown before them. An onager groans and complains to a young naked man who pulls and pulls at his reigns, trying to drag the obstinate beast towards the crest of the hill, bearing multiple vases spilling and leaking water as they go. It occurs to Nemur that today is, possibly, the day of the new year; the solstice, heralding the first half of the a new cycle, Emesh ("spring/summer"). Or else, it must be nearby, certainly close enough to call it. Which, if true, meant that only a handful of days lay between this survivor and the birthday of their son, a child taken to the underworld by cruel fate some years ago. Once you've introduced Nemur, here are some pointed questions you may choose to answer narratively;
Did you stay in the vicinity of Unug? If not, what cardinal direction did you take?
This cult of Me-Ka-a; are you "one of them?"
How did you meet Giri? What do you know of their past?
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jan 7, 2023 13:09:57 GMT -5
As the chill night turned to warm day, with his followers waking to begin their duties, Nemur sat in silence against the rock. The man with the half-shaven head observed the women preparing fires to cook their breakfast, indulging himself a little with the smell of cooked lentils. After a little while a whimpering cry forced him to begin his own duties. Nemur wondered if he would serve Ninurta (healing) or Nergal (death) today.
A few feet away Nemur would find his patient. A man not much older than himself, a former warrior if memory served him right, who had slipped a few days ago. A branch had been stuck deep into his flesh. Despite Nemur's protestations the warrior had dismissed his warnings and carried on. As the healer removed the wrappings, the smell was far worse than yesterday. Nemur frowned and held his breath as he inspected the gangrenous wound - it was bad. He touched the wounded man's forehead, felt his pulse and counted his breath - the rot was spreading.
Nemur silently cursed while the warrior's wife tried to have him drink some fresh water. By this point there was nothing mortal men could do, not even the best healer in old Unug with all the medical plants of the known world - and Nemur had neither. No doubt death would visit the man before the next sunrise. He turned to the warrior's wife and spoke softly.
"Keep him cool, get him to eat and drink as much as he can, but only small portions. I will see if we have some yarrow to help reduce the fever. By Me-Ka-a's mercy, his strength will guide him through this most critical part."
The woman nodded her thanks as Nemur rose and walked off. The distinct sound of his staff hitting the ground drew the attention of his travelling companions. Some approached him for advice, others kept a respectable distance. It was an odd yet satisfying feeling to be the shepherd of a lost flock.
His thoughts drifted to those cataclysmic years in old Unug, city of cities. He had been a respected healer connected to the temple of Ninurta, god of healing. Yet as the heavens fell down and the world turned dark and chaotic, he had no choice but to flee. In the delta between the two great rivers he travelled north, knowing not what destiny awaited him. In those early days they were only two - Nemur himself and his son. Yet the lord of the underworld had claimed his son, succumbed to consumption. His heart had cried ever since, the sight of his own flesh and blood grow thinner and weaker by the day until the last breath left the body.
He wandered alone for a long while, exchanging his knowledge for what little food people could spare. The world had despaired and all her children starved. Their eyes had been hollow and lost. Nemur had been the same. Yet in the darkness he had found the light - the irradiating light of the Dancing Star, the Divine Fox - Me-Ka-a. It came to him in a dream and re-lit the fire in his soul once lost. Salvation was within reach for those touched by the divine.
On the road north, Nemur began to preach to those he passed. Many ignored him, some even ridiculed him. Yet a faithful few stayed as he saw the light return to their eyes. As he moved, they followed. His own little flock of followers, their zealotry greater than his own.
Yet the world was not so forgiving as to let a new god into its fold. The gods that had flung the world into calamity now conspired against Nemur's little band of survivors through the dark hearts of mortal men. Blind faith alone did not save them - some could be convinced with a silver-tongued lie, others with an offer of food or coin. Those who could not be swayed... those were for Giri.
Nemur looked over at the man in question, sitting at the edge of camp maintaining the tools of his clandestine trade. A thief and a murderer from Unug, he had apparently fled his imprisonment when the gods punished the world. Giri had joined them on the road for personal survival rather than some work of faith, despite reciting prayers just like the rest of the cult. While Nemur did not see the fire in the man's eyes, he did see something else - potential. Thus his sins had been forgiven in the eyes of the Great Trickster Me-Ka-a, and his blades turned toward those who would harm the faithful.
It would be a beautiful day, Nemur thought to himself as he found some yarrow and poppy for the dying warrior. Let his passing be without suffering, the healer silently prayed on his trek back.
|
|
|
|
Post by fairies wear boots 👢 on Jan 8, 2023 2:51:21 GMT -5
There were a little more than a dozen of them, these disparate kith - half a dozen of them were men notably past their prime, and the others ranged from practically boys to near Nemur’s age. There were four women, and only one of them was still of nubile countenance.
One of them, a gaunt man from Kuara named Uannalan, became convinced he was fated to become a gudug priest of Me-ka-a, though as of yet there was no statue to wash, neither libations nor vittle to offer it, and no shrine to maintain and protect. He’d shaven his head and body as best one could with the blunt copper knife he carried, and went about bare . He’d walk and posture about in a contemplative way, as if any facial expression he made and every step he took had to be full of meaning. Uannalan had been a scribe, and was the most apparently literate of the vagrants.
Uannalan now was standing just next to Nemur’s path back to the dying warrior, his green eyes piercing from his slouched stance on the bend of the ridge. He called out to the provident healer, his crooked posture almost a bow as Nemur passed him by.
"A beautiful day is ahead of us," the aging man greeted before turning to walk beside the doctor.
"I would know your mind, if you’ll allow, on how best it should be spent.."
His face dimmed ever so slightly as Nemur’s target came into view - the dying Bazi and his weeping wife.
"As soon as the circumstances permit, I still believe that a shrine should be constructed, and that would require finding a more permanent resting place."
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jan 8, 2023 12:00:14 GMT -5
Nemur's coal-black eyes were focused on the medical plants that he was crushing on the ground, before mixing them with some water and handing the mixture over to the warrior's wife. He stood up in silence before turning his gaze to the self-styled "priest". He tolerated Uannalan's presence for his knowledge, but watched him wearily for any misplaced ambitions.
"Indeed, we are blessed with Me-Ka-a's favor today."
He motioned with his staff for the older man to follow. They strolled through the makeshift camp.
"We have come far following the Dancing Star, and I sense that the promised land is within reach. If Bazi was well, I would have sent him out at first sunlight. As he is now, though..."
Bazi was the warrior now dying in sickbed, the quickest feet in the group. Nemur shook his head and spoke softly.
"I pray for Me-Ka-a to watch over him. However, we won't be moving until his fate has been decided by the divine. The others who are strong enough to scout ahead are needed for other duties."
Nemur rubbed his chin thoughtfully, tapping his staff against the ground rhythmically.
"Uannalan, prepare some animal blood, bones of a rabbit and three bowls. I need to divine the signs from above."
|
|
|
|
Post by fairies wear boots 👢 on Jan 8, 2023 21:20:41 GMT -5
"Nam.." Uannalan addressed Nemur with a word of respect, bowing towards his "prince".
"You are wise as ever; I had, I assure you, no intention for our tribe to leave our mighty Bazi."
He curved his lips to express regret and bowed his torso again before striding off.
"I will find that which you require, good lord,"
𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭𒀭
Uannalan returned when the sun was near zenith, a couple younger men in tow - carrying an assortment of things resembling what Nemur asked for. Two wicker baskets, a cracked ceramic bowl that Uannalan had carried with him forever, a hide sack full of blood, and a handful of strange little finger-sized bones.
"My Nam.." the un-anointed prelate began again, a noticeable bead of sweat weaving down his neck.
"I have brought what best could be found: it is the blood of a snake and the bones of a drowned man upriver…"
Uannalan frowned deeply.
"We searched for hours and could not find nor catch the bones of a beast, let alone a hare. The drowned man had the mark of a slave, so I used my best judgment, and removed his finger bones for the greater good."
The aging scribe clearly hoped that his leader would not think less of him, carrying a look of guilt.
If you wish to engage in augury with others present to witness(in particular, Uannalan), I need you to roll that Deception D10, plus an extra D6 (take the highest roll, not both together) because no one in the group has any knowledge of augury. You can use the Discord bot or use Orokos.com to link me the roll.
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jan 9, 2023 18:09:07 GMT -5
Nemur frowned as he inspected the items presented to him. It was far below what he had hoped for, especially the bones of a drowned slave... he sighed and graciously accepted the items.
"These will have to do. I am sure that Me-Ka-a will look favorably upon the sweat of your brow for the hard work you've done for us all. Please, make some room."
Once the onlookers had moved into a circle did their staff-carrying leader sit down. He put the two wicker baskets before himself and the other items next to him. First, he picked up the bones and held them aloft as he recited a prayer.
"As the light of the Dancing Star guides our path in the dark, your supplicants now ask for your guidance, oh Lord of the Heavens."
The bones were thrown into the first basket, rustling about before falling still. The healer-turned-cult-leader examined their positions closely before carefully picking out those who did not touch another bone. He held them aloft once more.
"The soul is owed to the Lord of the Underworld, the skin and flesh and hair and nails are owed to the beasts of the earth. The bones, the memory of a man's existence, we offer you, oh Lord of Wisdom."
He threw the bones in the other basket. Then he grabbed the broken bowl and filled it as best he could with blood. He proceeded to wash his right hand with the blood as he continued speaking, spilling it on the ground between the baskets.
"The blood is the river of the body, as it flows we pray that its streams guide us to where we may do our duty to you, oh Lord of Life."
His hand now dripping with the snake blood, he shook it above the second basket, spilling the snake blood over the bones. Nemur slowly rose and observed the bones and the blood once more, standing silent for several moments as he read the signs.
---
OOC: Rolled in Discord.
D10 = 1
D6 = 5
|
|
|
|
Post by fairies wear boots 👢 on Jan 9, 2023 20:19:51 GMT -5
Me-Ka-a's devotees formed a solemn circle, with some of the younger men bearing an apprehensive awe upon their faces - as if stepping too close would bring a curse upon them or unleash a devil from the Kur, the mountain, the underworld.
Uannalan bowed his head and averted his eyes once Nemur started flicking blood about from his hands. Every soul remains silent, watching the healer read the plans of the gods, and awaiting his interpretation.
5. Success. Go ahead and reveal what you will, they're going to buy it completely.
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jan 10, 2023 15:52:59 GMT -5
Nemur took a deep breath before speaking, looking around the circle of silent onlookers.
"Me-Ka-a has seen our hard works and smiles upon our supplications. His divine body in the night sky has guided us north, and we are soon at the promised land! No longer than a few days' march away from here we shall find a settlement. There we must build a shrine to our lord and honor his blessings throughs words and deeds. We shall struggle and stumble, we shall even find those who denounce us for turning our backs on the gods who turned their backs on the world! But do not fear! In the humble earth we plant the first seed that will grow into a great forest, the realm of the Divine Fox."
He took a few deep breaths before continuing. It was all becoming so clear to him, shining like a second sun.
"Prepare for a few days' travel as much as you can before sundown. We must move on the morrow or suffer the displeasure of Me-Ka-a. I pray that fearsome Bazi will be with us when we go."
|
|
|
|
Post by fairies wear boots 👢 on Jan 12, 2023 13:31:35 GMT -5
The company of refugees did not stir much in the remaining hours of the day, as each individual had, on average, only one or two personal possessions. Some, led by Giri, went out to acquire more rations for the journey, but most of them returned empty-handed within a few hours.
However, as the seventh beru began, the sun hanging low in the western sky, a voice broke Nemur's attention away from whatever focus his mind had been occupied with.
"Elder father, elder Nemur.."
The boy was out of breath, but addressed Nemur with words denoting seniority and authority. In Unug, the elder-fathers of the city were the elder-fathers of all its citizens.
"Giri.. Giri gave words to me.."
The youth pointed to the north sky.
"Giri has found something up river, on the life-giving river. Something you should see,"
------
To make this simpler, I'll now skip ahead to Nemur catching up with Giri, assuming that that is what you'll do (I can edit, if not)
Giri was found standing on the southern bank of the faster of the two great rivers, a torch sticking out of the sand beside him - illuminating the twilight shoreline.
He turned to look over his shoulder as he heard Nemur and the boy approach, and then gestured with a wave and a nod towards a vessel beached upon the shore.
The wide river-boat was full of large ceramic jugs and closed reed-woven baskets. Frogs began their throaty song from under the riparian foliage.
The fire of the torch just barely made it out - the limp body of a man hanging over the side, long black hair and beard dangling with sand. Plentiful red could be seen in this silhouette, and not of the shade of dye that came from across the sea - but the shade that reflected a soul had passed through the nine gates of the Underworld.
A shiny copper helmet covered the cadaver's skull, but it was very obviously busted on the top - perhaps from a slinger's rock. There appeared to be another body in the boat, within the shadows among the vessel's bounty.
Giri simply stared at Nemur, not deigning to explain the readily apparent to a wiseman.
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jan 12, 2023 16:53:51 GMT -5
It took a little while for Nemur and the boy to make their way over to Giri. The staff was mostly a tool for self-defense and a mark of authority, but Nemur was not the young man he once was. When he arrived at the bank of the river, his eyes narrowed at the sight of the boat and its deceased occupant. Thoughts began spinning in his head, looking for a variety of explanations for the scene before them. Where did the boat originate from? What was its cargo? Where was the rest of its crew? Who had attacked the boat in the first place, and where were they? Was this a ruse, an ambush?
Too many questions and too few answers. They only had so little time left before the night set in, and the question was how much moonlight Nanna would bless them with. It was a treasure trove he would not like to part with, but the cargo held little value if they could not secure the boat. In fact, the boat was the most valuable prize for his rag-tag group of faithful - if they had people knowledgeable in going upstream.
"Giri, check the dead man first. Then the other body if that one's alive or not. When the boat's secured of any apparent danger, call me over. Boy, fetch Uannalan and anyone who has knowledge of travelling the river."
|
|
|
|
Post by fairies wear boots 👢 on Jan 13, 2023 14:55:07 GMT -5
Giri glanced at the boat before returning his gaze to Nemur.
"Both are dead. Their prized cargo is untouched, however."
The rogue stepped over to the small boat, reached over the side, and heaved out one of the ceramic amphorae.
"Beer." he announced with audible punctuation.
"And the baskets are filled with salted meats."
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jan 14, 2023 16:20:38 GMT -5
Nemur walked closer, the sound of his staff rapping against the ground announcing his stride. He looked over the two dead men for a moment before turning his attention to the cargo. It was indeed as his clandestine companion had described it. Beer and meat... valuable commodities in these testing times.
It was strange, the man from Unug thought to himself. The copper helmet denoted guard or a warrior, and there had obviously been a fight. Why did the the precious cargo lie untouched, then? Too much to waste on a trap. The obvious answer was that he boat had been attacked farther up the river, most likely from the shore by slingers. When the sailors perished, the boat simply floated down the river until it hit the bank where they now stood.
The beer and meat would sustain their journey for quite a while, even if they only took as much as they could carry. If they had the means of travelling up the river by boat, even better. However, then they risked encountering those who had killed the original boatmen. Or they could run into anyone acquainted with the boatmen and be accused of a crime they did not commit. It was a conundrum.
"A terrible fate, may they pass this world in peace. What do you think, bandits?"
He turned to Giri for answers, though with low expectations. It was no doubt impossible to say. In the end, it did not matter anyway.
"Quite the haul we have chanced upon, a blessing from the divine. Do you see any marks on these amphorae, a symbol of cuneiform?"
|
|
|
|
Post by fairies wear boots 👢 on Jan 15, 2023 20:22:00 GMT -5
The runner boy jogged off as Nemur ordered, back the way they came, slowly shrinking in the distance until he disappeared.
"Them, or else soldiers."
It was left unsaid that the distinction no longer meant anything.
"Marks?"
Giri hummed; he clearly hadn't thought to look. He reached down and swept up the torch, and approached the little reed-bound vessel.
A few minutes passed as Giri murmured to himself while he poked his firebrand in between the clay containers, shifting the sloshing beer amphorae around left and right.
"Here.." he announced with articulation, making it clear he was now speaking to Nemur again.
"There's something on this one, on the neck."
He gestured for the figurative shepherd to approach so he could point it out.
If you wish to decipher the marks yourself, roll a d6. If you want Uannalan to do it, you'll have to wait.
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jan 17, 2023 14:41:53 GMT -5
Nemur shuffled over and leaned in closer to get a closer look. However, while he did know some rudimentary cuneiform he thought it more prudent to wait for the "priest" and his knowledge. He sat down on the wet bank and gazed at the stars, seeing the myriad of gods moving in the heavens.
___
OOC: I initially rolled but haven't got a result by the time of this writing, so I'll skip it and wait instead.
|
|
