A Submission, Both to the Fictional History and Eisteddfod

[Braden Indianensis]

Many and many a year ago, in a land in the northern sea, lived a people called the Anticans. On their island far off in the Arctic, they were safe and secluded, and knew not the cares of the outside world, nor much heeded tidings from that came to their ears from that distant Outremer.

They had no government, save the ties of kinship and personal loyalty; there was no war. As for religion, they knew only the One. and worshipped Him in the light of the moon. They were long-lived, in those days; 124 years was a mean feat. And they were happy.

They sold their wares and the works of their hands to their neighbors, and to those few, hardy traders that occasioned to sojourn over the bounding, restless waves, and so became prosperous. Yet, they were not greedy, for they had no concept of such a thing as greed.

Now, far and far down, many leagues under the sea, a demon lived named Azarabel. And this Azarabel, oh, how he hated happiness; how he loathed joy, and mirth, and virtue, and goodness; for all these reminded him of what he had lost, what he had batrayed. And so, he made for himself a form, seemingly fair and wise; and he made for himself a great ship; and he made his enchmen to look like sailors; and came so to the happy isle of the Anticans. He landed in the north, in the lands of the kindred of Endélon, a kind but easily-fooled man. And, indeed, Azarabel seemed a wise counsellor and a gracious guest, but in truth, he was a viper in a nest of mice. He whispered lies in Endélon's ear; he asked him,

"Why, Lord Endélon, should you and yours toil to no end in the fields, working your fingers to the bone, and gaining barely enough to live, when your neighbor, just across the ridge, the valley, the stream, does less, and is more profile? Your farming is just as good as theirs, your work deserving of more merit--yet, they have more fertile soil! Well, your folk have a far better wit than than your neighbor's, they have done more for learning and the arts. Do they not have better claim to food and life?" At first, Endélon dismissed this counsel, but, it took naught but two weeks to change his mind.

When his wheat was no longer in the field, and had been rolled up and tied into bundles, and his people were eager for the bread they would soon eat, suddenly there came a heavy rain that lasted two full days. It had not occured to Endélon to have the bundles covered; before, grain had been stored in a barn, but that barn had burned down the previous winter, and forces and funds had not yet been organized to rebuild it. Soon, it rained again, and for an even greater space; and before long, mildew began to grow in the bundles, and soon they wore rotten down to a slosh unfit for eating.

Upon hearing this, Endélon retired to the darkness of the clan assembly hall. He sat in his great chair, amidst the smoke from the central cooking-pit. It would not be long before the clan learned of the failure of the crop, and they would not ne pleased. How could they be pleased to learn that they, and their children, would starve? After all, the fish in these parts were unfit for consumption; with the onset of winter, game was scarce; and since the lands of Endélon's folk were barely fertile enough to feed the human population, they could never afford to keep livestock.

And whilst he sat in the dark, perusing these ominous forebodings of future occurence,he heard the creaking of wood. Endélon turned to his right, where, in the small, folding stool next his chair sat Azarabel.

"My Lord," cooed the sly serpent, "already rumours fly through the village. In one version or another, all of your folk know of the loss of the crops. They will blame you--they will kill you. If my lord desirest to preserve his life, he had best me when I advise: take the food of your neighbor. He is weak. He is greedy, storing away his supplies under such guard. Come, My Lord! Summon your men."

And so, Endélon left the hall, and sealed his doom. He went forth, onto the porch. He rang the bell of assembly, and, within minutes, the householders of the clan were assembled.At first, they of course demanded to know the true state of the crops, and, as is typical of a mob, made more noise than was necessary.

"My friends!" called Endélon, raising open palms, "Hear me! All of you know that our crops rotted in the rain. But lay not the blame upon me. The fault, rather, should go to our greedy neighbors, who knew this would happen! Their crops are safe! Those hogs, they shared not this knowledge with us! They wished for us to starve! Well, their wish is not granted! Let us go to them, and take what should be ours!" And so, this band of men, numbering some 300 souls, set out from their own village, and went to the place of their neighbors, who were suprized at their coming. The men of Endélon slew all the guards of the town, and plundered all from the granary, the houses, and the hall--and then burned the village of their rival, with all its farms and mills, to the ground, taking the women and the children. This was the first time, on this island of peace in a sea of war, that men had set out to steal, to burn, to kill, and to strive against their fellow man. Azarabel laughed at this occurence, for his plans were well-laid.

But, when the first drop of blood was shed in that town, the ice, far to the north, raced steadily toward the island of the Anticans; it crushed the ship of Azarabel, and when it came ashore, crushed all of the villages, houses, and halls of the north, and most of the people were utterly smote and ruined. Some few escaped to the center of the island, but it would not avail them much. Azarabel fled to the south, too, cackling all the way.

In the center of the island, the people had discovered war murder on their own, and so the ice followed Azarabel, and crushed the swollen market towns of that region to dust. Only a few good and noble families--the House of Augustus, for example-- managed to flee to the south, to the domains of Julian Pheltivnè. Azarabel was quick to follow, eager to spread iniquity and pollution wherever he could. But when he came to the shipping town that was the chief city of the south, he was not allowed into the inner precincts, for Julian saw him partly for what he was. Now, this Julian had a brother, Bonatiserus, and a great-great aunt, as well as a lovely wife, Fair Eleanor. Now, this Aunt of his, a woman named Yverné, hailed from the far east of the island. She spoke with an often-incomprehensible accent, and was very wise. Her husband, son, and even her grandson had disappeared out in the far seas, for the Easterners were fond of such voyages. As such, the eastern lands held be she and her great-grandson (a boy of no more than eight years) were under the suzerainty of their nephew and cousin respectively. As such, the fates of the south and the east were linked.

It may have been that Azarabelhad been shut out of Pheltivnè's presence, but not everyone in these southern lands was righteous. Julian's brother in law, the youngest of the three brothers of Eleanor, a man named Elidahoz, was always jealous of his brother-in-law. Oh, how he lusted for rule of these towns, these clans; and through the lies of Azarabel, he was made cognizant of a way in which these ends might be met. Elidahoz resolved to kill his sister's husband.
So, while Julian held court, amidst all of his relatives and vassals, Elidahoz walked calmly into the court chamber. When he was near the great seat, he pulled a knife from his robes. He rushed forth to stab Julian, but at the last instant, Bonatiserus moved in the way of the thrust and the unhappy dagger fell in his back and shoulder.
When his blood landed on the flagstones, the ice in the north began to churn. It pushed south southeast, crushing all before it, grinding all to powder. All that could fled to ships. Within minutes, the sea of ice had reached the great port. Beholding this, Julian ordered the guards to simply throw his treacherous brother on the floor, and then, all within the palace fled to the boats. The Augustus family and many others escaped as well. As many people were saved as possible, though ultimately there were too many lost to count.

Azarabel was glad. He saw the ice; he saw the death. But as he stood, laughing, gloating, thinking himself invincible, and sitting in Julian's seat, suddenly the ice broke the great windows of the hall, and he was swallowed up, and with many a blood-curdling scream, was stripped bare and destroyed, once and for all.

The ships speeded away on a southwest wind, carrying them away from the encroaching ice, and a land that had been at peace. Thus were the Anticans sundered and the Arctic ruined.

[Shyriath]

Oooh, good stuff. Thnks muchly!

[Braden Indianensis]

Well, a lot of time and effort did go into it. I would be honored to have it incorporated into the history.

[Shyriath]

Is there a known timeframe for these events? The various bits of the history are kept coordinated through use of a timeline. It doesn't have to be incredibly specific; something like "before X number of years ago" would work.

[V.C. Vehendi]

Wohoo. Creating fictional history for Kaikias is one thing, but Antica is something else.

[Braden Indianensis]

I'll thank everyone to notice that Kaikias isn't even mentioned in this, and so far no one else has done much for the earliest parts of Antican history (at least, not to my knowledge-- please don't bite my head off if I'm wrong) and so, I thought it was worth writing.

Shyriath, as far as the timeframe, do you remember that era of Shirithian history when much of the water at the north pole of the planet was bound up in ice, allowing the Yardistani islands to become accessible to eachother by land? I think it's about that time.

[Shyriath]

Around b4200 ASC, yes. That was a short ice age, but it would fit well with the speed at which the ice encroached, I think.

Might be a good idea to make sure that the other Anticans don't have any particular objections to the story, however...

[Chrimigules]

I personally don't have a problem with it as long as it is distinctively a myth of this... Temple of Eru.

[V.C. Vehendi]

As long it is a myth, ok.

[Braden Indianensis]

*Gags on Chris' pretentiousness.*

[Chrimigules]

Ok, then I guess I do have an objection.

[Braden Indianensis]

Well, Chris, I'm sorry if I offended you, but you were being pretentious and I find that personality trait incredibly offensive. Perhaps if you were more conscious of other people you wouldn't have so many things to object to.

[Chrimigules]

Is it really that wrong to ask for what you write about to be stated as being for Shirerithian Antica but not necessarily for the Antican Republic when you're writing it for Shirerithian Antica and not for the Antican Republic?

[Braden Indianensis]

Well, that depends, doesn't it? After all, if you consider the fact that the Republic and the Duchy have common origins, then it would work for everyone. But then again, if you've been planning the fictional history of the Republic (and ignoring the Dinarchial period) then I suppose I had better state that it is just for Shirithian Antica. So, which of the above is the case?

[Chrimigules]

I hope noone in the Republic intends to dump the Dinarchy into a memory hole and pretend it never happened. But if you're going to write about how there was an influx of people from a great northern land after an ice demon froze their original one, that's pretty mythical.

[Bill3000]

I'm going to have to agree with Chris here, partially because I know how he feels. "Traitors" or not to the Dinarchy, the RoAnticans have a significant right to the culture of Antica as a whole. I believe that you were just a new citizen in the Dinarchy, no, Baldwin? Due to this you do not have a right to solely work on Antica's fictional history. If you do want to create such a feat, you would need to work with those who have more cultural right than you - Chris, for one, as well as Delphi if he cares, plus the rest of the elder RoAnticans if they want a part. Et cetera. You simply do not have the intellectual property required to create a fictional history for a nation + a duchy that has no activity anymore.

By the way, in general, genuine fictional history is supposed to be secular, e.g. without divine intervention and the like. As well, once again, it does not make sense for the Anticans to be as old as the Audentes.

In fact that is a huge gripe I have with Shirerothian fictional history. It perpetuates itself to be as old, if not older, than Audentior. This is impossible and something that I cannot allow. Apollonia is called the birthplace of civilization for a reason, although it's probably a combination of both Greece and Sumeria/Babylonia in importance.

[Chrimigules]

In the olden times, Pre-Anticans were wandering the unoccupied forests of... whatever the name of the continent both Anticas is on is. The Pre-Anticans were pushed back as regions were settled, like Mondesia and the Freenesias. The Pre-Antican homeland during that time was around the area that latter became North Tartary and the western edge of Platea. When those who came before fell, the Pre-Anticans pushed back out, and when they reached the coast, there, they obtained the enlightenment of civilization, and Anticans began to settle the land anew.

[Braden Indianensis]

But if you're going to write about how there was an influx of people from a great northern land after an ice demon froze their original one, that's pretty mythical.

The way you put it, one would think this was the script for an episode of Jacky Chan Adventures instead of a myth into which I poured my mind and heart.
And , too, aren't gross oversimplifications fun? You obviously didn't really read it (I'm sure it was in your noble aspiration to hastily correct me as soon as possible); if you had, you'd know that it wasn't Azarabel who froze the island, but rather, the freezing was a "consequence" of the greed and treachery the people had shown, and Azarabel had sown. It's partly an explanation myth ("Why did that ice age happen?"; "Why is the north so covered with ice?") created, not because I do not understand these phenomena, but because people of ages past did not. In a sense, you're supposed to pick up that I'm merely retelling a story that has already been told. Also, the story is a morality play, or a cautionary tale.

Nevertheless, I thank you for your honest criticism; hopefully, it will lead me to greater sucess as a weaver of myths. However, I may never write again on Shireroth. Perhaps I should have followed the advice of the scriptures in this matter; to understand how I feel, Chris, may I suggest you look up Matthew, Chapter 7, Verse 6?

[Chrimigules]

Azarabel sows greed and treachery in the people, consequence is large amounts of ice. I'm pretty sure it's viable to put the blame on Azarabel.

And I'm not trampling upon your writing yet. I'm just asking that you don't do it in such a way as to claim that this applies to all Anticans without even asking them.

[Braden Indianensis]

I see your point, and I apologize. This piece of semilegendary history is only for Shirithian Anticans (wheresoever the rest may be) and I hope our squabbles won't dishonor other attempts at documenting what I think is a promising history.

[Chrimigules]

All I wanted you to do was identify it and other stories you may write as being part of the corpus of myths of the Temple of Eru.

Matthew 10:34-37, man...

[Kaiser Alejian II]

Why not have conflicting accounts of how Antica came into being? That sounds natural to me, especially if it has religious overtones to it, and if Antica (in your fichistory) is really old, then that would have a factor on it as well right?

[Braden Indianensis]

I can agree with that, Your Excellency. Hopefully you will, Chris?

[Bill3000]

Because that ruins the entire purpose of SSHIT.

[Braden Indianensis]

Impudent carpetbagger! You DARE to address the arbitrations of the Kaiser of Shireroth thusly?!

[Kaiser Alejian II]

What, you think that's the first time he's done that? Hehe.

[Chrimigules]

Anything that doesn't unjustly bind us in the Republic to anything.

[Braden Indianensis]

Wouldn't dream of it.