In order to learn disciplines such as sacred mathematics, it is common to use limericks to remember concepts or procedure.
Anyway.
Economics
The economy of Armour is based on trade. Wealth is dependent on the artisans and craftsmen of Armour making use of natural resources not in the city. The area surrounding the city is good for metals only, as far as recourses go. The people of Armour are historically excellent metalworkers. The Latines were also very strong metalworkers, and were drawn to Armour for this reason. However, the Latines did not even conceive of using metal for machinery.
Often, metalcraft is traded for raw materials, or sometimes pure metal itself. Finished crafts do get bartered as well, but mostly, tribes have no use for the things citizens of Armour use.
Between citizens, trade is done directly: good for good.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
The Farm Boy Himself
There is the boy who lives outside the city, in the Urbe Externus. He lives with his father, who is a businessman of sorts. Their land is on the brink of the inner city, and on the far parts of their property his father has constructed trading booths complete with locked warehouses for traders to use. Their house is on the other side of the property, acres away. The boy's father is away most of the day, and the boy is more or less free to roam with his friend. His friend smokes from a pipe, but the boy thinks it's a stupid hobby. The boy's mother is gone; in fact, the boy has no memory of his mother. She is in foreign servitude as a punishment for some crime. The boy doesn't know the crime. His father won't tell him, and the boy is suspicious. He's afraid to ask anything, of course. It's a touchy subject. His father is detached and mostly absent from the boy's life.
The boy spends a lot of time at his friend's house. His friend's father is a farmer of smoking spices (ah, so that's the boy's endless supply.) He's a funny guy. An daydreamer, but a father figure to the boy. The boy's friend doesn't appreciate his father as much as he should. The boy's mother means well, but she's not too bright. Mostly, she cares for the house. She's certainly a nice person, though.
There is a machinist near the boy's house. His father doesn't know that he sees the machinist. He wouldn't approve. The boy sneaks off to learn from him, as he has no other way of being educated. The machinist teaches him things like sacred mathematics, natural science, machinery, and astronomy. But what interests the boy most is his lessons in history. He tells him of the ancient cultures, and the lost arts. He shows the boy writings, supposedly from the people who inhabited Armour before the Latines. According to the machinist, they had secret brotherhoods. The brotherhoods would cooperate to protect the towns from tribal attack, but they would never share their secrets. The brotherhoods each had their own wereteknike (War-Technique.) The boy often tries to find out how the machinist finds these scriptures, but he says he swore to never tell. He will tell the boy, though, that he has no affiliation with any such brotherhood, and in fact believes most of their methods to be out of date, anyway. Especially considering the Latines seemed to have conquered them...
Regardless, the boy enjoys his lessons with the machinist more than anything else. He excels in his studies of sacred mathematics and the natural magics, but he's curious more than anything about the old brotherhoods. Of course, the boy's world is fairly limited. He has his friend, his farm, and the machinist. Despite the wealth of information available to him, he's never actually been to the inner city. His father has been promising to take him for many years, but the boy is growing old enough to realize that half of his father's business in the city takes place in brothels.
And this is the situation of the farm boy.
There is the boy who lives outside the city, in the Urbe Externus. He lives with his father, who is a businessman of sorts. Their land is on the brink of the inner city, and on the far parts of their property his father has constructed trading booths complete with locked warehouses for traders to use. Their house is on the other side of the property, acres away. The boy's father is away most of the day, and the boy is more or less free to roam with his friend. His friend smokes from a pipe, but the boy thinks it's a stupid hobby. The boy's mother is gone; in fact, the boy has no memory of his mother. She is in foreign servitude as a punishment for some crime. The boy doesn't know the crime. His father won't tell him, and the boy is suspicious. He's afraid to ask anything, of course. It's a touchy subject. His father is detached and mostly absent from the boy's life.
The boy spends a lot of time at his friend's house. His friend's father is a farmer of smoking spices (ah, so that's the boy's endless supply.) He's a funny guy. An daydreamer, but a father figure to the boy. The boy's friend doesn't appreciate his father as much as he should. The boy's mother means well, but she's not too bright. Mostly, she cares for the house. She's certainly a nice person, though.
There is a machinist near the boy's house. His father doesn't know that he sees the machinist. He wouldn't approve. The boy sneaks off to learn from him, as he has no other way of being educated. The machinist teaches him things like sacred mathematics, natural science, machinery, and astronomy. But what interests the boy most is his lessons in history. He tells him of the ancient cultures, and the lost arts. He shows the boy writings, supposedly from the people who inhabited Armour before the Latines. According to the machinist, they had secret brotherhoods. The brotherhoods would cooperate to protect the towns from tribal attack, but they would never share their secrets. The brotherhoods each had their own wereteknike (War-Technique.) The boy often tries to find out how the machinist finds these scriptures, but he says he swore to never tell. He will tell the boy, though, that he has no affiliation with any such brotherhood, and in fact believes most of their methods to be out of date, anyway. Especially considering the Latines seemed to have conquered them...
Regardless, the boy enjoys his lessons with the machinist more than anything else. He excels in his studies of sacred mathematics and the natural magics, but he's curious more than anything about the old brotherhoods. Of course, the boy's world is fairly limited. He has his friend, his farm, and the machinist. Despite the wealth of information available to him, he's never actually been to the inner city. His father has been promising to take him for many years, but the boy is growing old enough to realize that half of his father's business in the city takes place in brothels.
And this is the situation of the farm boy.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
Millitary
Millitary is not a necessity for Armour. War is rare: for the most part, all surrounding peoples are tribal. However, there is the rare attempt from a sovereign power, often from oversees. The Republic maintains a military, although it's function is not entirely for defense.
First, there are the standard legions. These are mostly tribal peoples, or prisoners. The legions of Armour are surprisingly small for a country of its size. People in the army are, not surprisingly, often poor and seeking refuge. Military servitude is unpleasant and extremely harsh. Legionaries are trained to be as bloodthirsty as possible, and citizens of Armour tend not to relate to Legionaries, or even find a cultural distance from themselves and these people. The strategy is simple- it is based on the observation that, in person to person combat, learning form or technique with the scimittara is only so effective. It was observed that the majority of situations may be won in a matter of seconds by not being afraid to "strike where it hurts." A relatively small amount of legionaries can inflict a very serious amount of damage and, despite their technical ineptitude with weaponry, the legionaries are extremely powerful. Legions are kept in barracks in the Terres Procules, away from most people, to prevent any incident.
Second, there are the Commanders of Strategy. These people are quite separate from Legionaries, and from the Senate. Under permission of a Decree of Magistrates, when presented with an objective the Commanders may take decisive action in its direction using whichever means they see fit. Commanders are the best and brightest strategic minds in Armour. Becoming a Commander is the highest honor a citizen may achieve. The group is elite and self-elected. They wield a direct power over the Legionaries that even the Senate does not have.
Finally, there is the Protectorate Society. The Society is the "check" on the Commanders' power. The Protectorate answers directly to the Council of Magistrates (the Senate), and may only act on the Commanders' orders if the Senate allows them to do so. The Society contains no more than fifteen members. These members are the cream of the crop among legionaries. Legionaries may only carry scimittara (broad, curved swords). The Society, however, may carry whatever weaponry they see fit. They have no leader, and may act independently of one another. Their actions are completely secret to everyone except Head Magistrate himself, and they have few dealings with anyone outside of their own society.
All in all, the importance of the military in Armour is rather small. They serve very little true purpose, and are more an ornament symbolizing the vast power of the Republic than anything else.
Millitary is not a necessity for Armour. War is rare: for the most part, all surrounding peoples are tribal. However, there is the rare attempt from a sovereign power, often from oversees. The Republic maintains a military, although it's function is not entirely for defense.
First, there are the standard legions. These are mostly tribal peoples, or prisoners. The legions of Armour are surprisingly small for a country of its size. People in the army are, not surprisingly, often poor and seeking refuge. Military servitude is unpleasant and extremely harsh. Legionaries are trained to be as bloodthirsty as possible, and citizens of Armour tend not to relate to Legionaries, or even find a cultural distance from themselves and these people. The strategy is simple- it is based on the observation that, in person to person combat, learning form or technique with the scimittara is only so effective. It was observed that the majority of situations may be won in a matter of seconds by not being afraid to "strike where it hurts." A relatively small amount of legionaries can inflict a very serious amount of damage and, despite their technical ineptitude with weaponry, the legionaries are extremely powerful. Legions are kept in barracks in the Terres Procules, away from most people, to prevent any incident.
Second, there are the Commanders of Strategy. These people are quite separate from Legionaries, and from the Senate. Under permission of a Decree of Magistrates, when presented with an objective the Commanders may take decisive action in its direction using whichever means they see fit. Commanders are the best and brightest strategic minds in Armour. Becoming a Commander is the highest honor a citizen may achieve. The group is elite and self-elected. They wield a direct power over the Legionaries that even the Senate does not have.
Finally, there is the Protectorate Society. The Society is the "check" on the Commanders' power. The Protectorate answers directly to the Council of Magistrates (the Senate), and may only act on the Commanders' orders if the Senate allows them to do so. The Society contains no more than fifteen members. These members are the cream of the crop among legionaries. Legionaries may only carry scimittara (broad, curved swords). The Society, however, may carry whatever weaponry they see fit. They have no leader, and may act independently of one another. Their actions are completely secret to everyone except Head Magistrate himself, and they have few dealings with anyone outside of their own society.
All in all, the importance of the military in Armour is rather small. They serve very little true purpose, and are more an ornament symbolizing the vast power of the Republic than anything else.
Monday, February 12, 2007
(anyway, back to the more dry, factual stuff)
Terres Procules
Although the Republic is relatively compact for a nation of it's power, it has under it's (more or less de facto) influence a few very important tribal commonwealths. These commonwealths are not under direct governance. However, all citizens of Armour are tolerant and acceptant of foreigners. Xenophobia is a most severe crime, and is one of the few crimes punishable by permanent exile and revoked citizenship. (Most crimes entail a certain amount of years of servitude in foreign territory.)
The central city of Armour is viewed as a uniting power to these otherwise feuding tribes. Indeed, Armour is guilty of organized-crime-like techniques: a tribe that refuses to cooperate is granted their wish, and may expect no help against the united tribes that oppose it. The tribes are, however, at peace, and offer not only raw materials but also rich culture history.
The city of Armour was originally no more than a tribe itself. When the area was conquered by the Latines, it was chosen as a central city, and has remained that way for as long as a written language has existed. However, much of Armour's rich mythology was destroyed by the Latines. Very few gadderian (traditional religious fellowships) exist from the original Armour tradition.
Surrounding tribes have diverse, although conceptually similar beliefs. Many citizens of Armour appreciate and follow these beliefs, although the official government traditionally ignores them.
Terres Procules
Although the Republic is relatively compact for a nation of it's power, it has under it's (more or less de facto) influence a few very important tribal commonwealths. These commonwealths are not under direct governance. However, all citizens of Armour are tolerant and acceptant of foreigners. Xenophobia is a most severe crime, and is one of the few crimes punishable by permanent exile and revoked citizenship. (Most crimes entail a certain amount of years of servitude in foreign territory.)
The central city of Armour is viewed as a uniting power to these otherwise feuding tribes. Indeed, Armour is guilty of organized-crime-like techniques: a tribe that refuses to cooperate is granted their wish, and may expect no help against the united tribes that oppose it. The tribes are, however, at peace, and offer not only raw materials but also rich culture history.
The city of Armour was originally no more than a tribe itself. When the area was conquered by the Latines, it was chosen as a central city, and has remained that way for as long as a written language has existed. However, much of Armour's rich mythology was destroyed by the Latines. Very few gadderian (traditional religious fellowships) exist from the original Armour tradition.
Surrounding tribes have diverse, although conceptually similar beliefs. Many citizens of Armour appreciate and follow these beliefs, although the official government traditionally ignores them.
It's like going into a vertical place where gravity doesn't exist and planting both feet on the walls, looking around, perfectly at home.
That's what it's like when I stretch open a small rift that sees 5,000 miles way, and I peer through. And then I let go and the fabric snaps back, and the hole remains.
It's like picking up my wand and casting some showy spell that does very little. A spell I didn't know I knew.
Thats what it's like when I know something you didn't know.
It's all so wonderful. I wish it were real magic. (and in a sense, it is)
That's what it's like when I stretch open a small rift that sees 5,000 miles way, and I peer through. And then I let go and the fabric snaps back, and the hole remains.
It's like picking up my wand and casting some showy spell that does very little. A spell I didn't know I knew.
Thats what it's like when I know something you didn't know.
It's all so wonderful. I wish it were real magic. (and in a sense, it is)
Urbe Externus
Rich, rolling hills with lush green grass roll into flat lands with high-growing weeds. The rural people (laundlichae) let their kids run freely and play here; not much can go wrong in the fields surrounding Armour. City dwellers (urbinae) live much more tightly packed lives, where as the rural people live spread out and free.
There's a particularly impressive lake just to the south of Armour. Gloussenmare, a large freshwater lake, is frequented by freshwater fishers. Just east of Gloussenmare is the famous Teathered Tower, the Cordertor. Barrel shaped stories, with the top of each story tied to the ground by metal cable. There's much mystery surrounding the Cordertor for many of the laundlichae.
Rural people are often poor and uneducated, although not always. In fact, Armour's richest citizens often move to the area surrounding Gloussenmare. These people are often the mechanical workers or architects. Most of these people are trained in Sacred Mathematics, and their skills are revered and cherished by the people of Armour.
Rich, rolling hills with lush green grass roll into flat lands with high-growing weeds. The rural people (laundlichae) let their kids run freely and play here; not much can go wrong in the fields surrounding Armour. City dwellers (urbinae) live much more tightly packed lives, where as the rural people live spread out and free.
There's a particularly impressive lake just to the south of Armour. Gloussenmare, a large freshwater lake, is frequented by freshwater fishers. Just east of Gloussenmare is the famous Teathered Tower, the Cordertor. Barrel shaped stories, with the top of each story tied to the ground by metal cable. There's much mystery surrounding the Cordertor for many of the laundlichae.
Rural people are often poor and uneducated, although not always. In fact, Armour's richest citizens often move to the area surrounding Gloussenmare. These people are often the mechanical workers or architects. Most of these people are trained in Sacred Mathematics, and their skills are revered and cherished by the people of Armour.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Urbs Penitus
Hovels spread out over the basin of the city, and in between, large domes rise; mellow greens and blues, with minarets protruding like spires upward. Beyond the buildings, the mountains rise gentle and tranquil. Lush with dry brush, the sun sets red and blazing behind the mountains, and the sky is pink and auburn behind the heart of the Commonwealth.
Hovels spread out over the basin of the city, and in between, large domes rise; mellow greens and blues, with minarets protruding like spires upward. Beyond the buildings, the mountains rise gentle and tranquil. Lush with dry brush, the sun sets red and blazing behind the mountains, and the sky is pink and auburn behind the heart of the Commonwealth.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Monday, February 05, 2007
On Magic and Mystery
Almost every person who has the nerve to call themselves a scientist will look at the great mysteries in the world... unknown phenomena, and they'll laugh. They'll say it's trickery, untrue, doesn't exist, seeing what one wishes to see. It's this narrow mindedness that murders the spirit of man. The death in the metronome. Science takes mystery and replaces it with the “it doesn't exist.”
This science says Atheism is the smart choice. But no, it is indeed as ignorant and improbable as every other religion is, by its own nature. You are sure there is no god? Positive? You have proof? I thought not. It is improbable for there to be a god, yes. But it is unscientific, it is weak, to say there is no god. What prove have you?
The greatest geniuses were not scientists. No, they were in fact magicians. Before Newton, apples were falling for many years. Aristotle made something up: planes on top of planes: fire rises because it wants to go to the fire plane. Solids drop because they want to go to the solid plane. Air stays stationary because it wants to go to the air plane. He observed, and he concluded. He removed the magic with his inductive thinking. It wasn't until Newton, a true genius, who had to throw out everything that was established and accepted about science and the world. What an ignorant fool it would take to do that, a scientific mind would think. Apples fell from trees before Newton. It just took someone brave enough to say, “I don't really know.” And Einstein. He threw out everything to come up with general relativity. Galileo threw out everything to come up with heliocentricity.
And that's what a magician is. A magician is someone who can use paradox: a magician accepts mystery, observes it instead of denies it, and uses it without needing to know why it works. Magic is all around us. Just because we don't understand how something works, it doesn't mean it isn't real, or that it's silly, or that it's useless. How many people use televisions without really understanding how they work?
May life never lose its magic.
Sometimes, I feel blessed.
Like some divine hand is telling me exactly what to do and when, and I'm in touch enough to listen. And so are you.
But sometimes, this seems like some cosmic ballet. And sometimes, it seems like we're just servants. We do what we feel, and it's beautifully synchronized. And when we make our exits, oftentimes we have no idea why we had to do that. We just play our parts and make our exits, and that's what makes the world work.
I've never been this person. I've always been the rational one, who believed that any sort of god is rational and understandable. And now... it isn't feeling that way. I guess that scares me a little.
I just don't know anyone who's quite like you and me.
Like some divine hand is telling me exactly what to do and when, and I'm in touch enough to listen. And so are you.
But sometimes, this seems like some cosmic ballet. And sometimes, it seems like we're just servants. We do what we feel, and it's beautifully synchronized. And when we make our exits, oftentimes we have no idea why we had to do that. We just play our parts and make our exits, and that's what makes the world work.
I've never been this person. I've always been the rational one, who believed that any sort of god is rational and understandable. And now... it isn't feeling that way. I guess that scares me a little.
I just don't know anyone who's quite like you and me.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Friday, February 02, 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)