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colorsunimaginable · 1 year

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the spare // chapter forty-seven // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 3k warnings for this chapter: masturbation, dirty talk

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Forty-Seven:

I sleep like the dead that night. It’s a sleep so good that when I wake up, I’ve no idea the time or place, and I honestly couldn’t give a fuck. The dark curtains for the room I’m in have been pulled back, letting the bright sun drag across the space. It disrupts my blissfully ignorant sleep. Rubbing my eyes, I push myself up onto my elbows.

Oh, fuck. I’m in Thomus’ room. There’s a few sparks of regret for trespassing in on his space, but they quickly fizzle out. What the fuck’s he gonna do? Be mad at me? He can just add it to his list.

I sigh, falling back onto the pillows, and roll onto my side, away from the light.

As tends to be the case lately, so much so that it almost feels like a habit, my mind wanders to what he’s doing. Maybe there’s a major time difference and he’s still asleep. Maybe he’s hard at work, bossing poor Italian wizards around their office. Is he wearing his Death Eater outfit or office attire? He probably took over the Editor in Chief’s corner office, overlooking something of importance. I can only imagine that he’s a nightmare to work with. Especially coming in for a hostile takeover. He’ll be commanding and rude, probably easily irritable.

I’d surmised that La Penna de Venezia meant The ‘Something’ of Venice, and from what I know of Venice, there’s more waterways than there are roads. I hope whatever poor soul he has at his beck and call just pushes him into the fucking river. Lord knows he’d deserve it.

My hands start going numb from being tucked so tightly under my jaw, so I shift and cross my arms over my middle. I feel where my torso cascades, my hip jutting out from where my belly and fupa shift towards the bed. As my arms cradle that part of me, I remember how Thomus had touched me there. Especially when fucking me against the wall, he’d touched me like it… turned him on.

Of course I know that there are guys out there who’re into plus sized women like that. I’ve just never met one. Does Thomus just… secretly have a fat fetish? It’s always something I’ve had a negative connotation with, but his apparent appreciation for this part of my body doesn’t feel negative. He’d looked at me with reverence and fucked me like he couldn’t get enough. How is that a bad thing?

Coming from him, it’s wildly confusing, but definitely not bad. A conversation we’d had while he was still healing from the doxy bite makes more sense now. I remember saying that he was ashamed of me and he didn’t deny it. I’d thought it had something to do with my blood status. Maybe it’s both what I look like and my blood status. Was he telling the truth about the lust potion or was he just trying to cover his own ass?

I wish that man would start making more sense.

Unsurprisingly, because I’m lying in bed, thinking about sex, specifically sex with Thomus, my monkey brain starts to take the wheel. Every ounce of self-respect and shame leaves my body the moment I get it in my head that I wanna get off. I flip onto my back and shove my sleep shorts down my legs, kicking them off under the covers. Fuck it, undies too.

My heart is racing by the time my fingers start circling my clit. My thoughts are consumed with Thomus pushing me up against the wall again. Hands bound to the wall, his grip on my hips so tight he’d leave bruises. In my head I can hear the pornographic slap of skin on skin and my two middle fingers slip down to plunge into my entrance. The wet squelching sounds rising from between my legs only add fuel to the daydream. If only I could hear his voice right now.

You wanted this, didn’t you? No, don’t lie, you wanted your cunt stuffed full with my cock.

Imagination running wild, fingers pumping, thumb pressing in so good. I’m losing my mind here, so close to the edge.

Look at you, a dripping mess for my cock, so needy and desperate to cum.

My body’s torturously tense. My free hand’s cupping my breast, twisting and pulling at my nipple. My forearm is starting to cramp from how hard I’m fingering myself. I can barely breathe I’m so close. The lack of oxygen makes my mind narrow and focus only on how good I feel and the wanton scene in my head.

That’s a good girl, cum on my cock. You just can’t help yourself, can you? Such a dirty fucking whore.

My insides tighten around my fingers and my hips tilt upward, heels on the bed pushing myself against my hand as I fucking lose it. Insanity has completely taken over as I lose myself in this fantasy, writhing on the bed as I climax.

Of course, once the tremors have stopped and I pull my hand out from between my legs, my emotions are all over the place. It’s not unheard of for me to get emotional after an orgasm, but this feels particularly… overwhelming. I haven’t touched myself since before Thomus and I had sex for the first time. I don’t know what I feel about it, but I know I’m definitely feeling something. Maybe it’s because of how confusing everything is. Well, how confusing he is.

I’m exhausted once again and I shove my face into the pillow when I roll over onto my side. Smelling him makes me wonder what he’s doing again. He’s probably busy, running a fucking newspaper, flirting with pretty Italian women, not thinking about me at all.

~*~

The next time I wake, I force myself to get out of bed. I go back to my own room, putting myself together enough to wander the manor. It’s late in the afternoon, probably nearly supper, or dinner, or tea. Whatever it is they call it here.

I find Narcissa in her study, scribbling away at something on her desk. She spots me right as I’m about to knock.

“Come in, dear,” she says, her lips curved into a soft smile.

“Hi.” I step in through the doorway. “Just wanted to prove I’m still alive.”

“You look very well-rested.”

I laugh once. “Yeah, I feel a lot better.”

She dips her quill into a black inkwell. “If you’d care to wait a few moments, we can walk down to dinner together. I’m just finishing some letters.”

“Sure.” As I wait, my eyes travel the small room. There’s a bookcase behind the door, the kind that’s embedded into the wall. I’m drawn to it because it’s covered in framed photos and knickknacks. A few are pictures of Draco growing up, either playing Quidditch or dressed smartly in his Hogwarts uniform, even one I’m assuming is him as a baby. Lucius and Narcissa on their wedding day, flanked by a bridal party consisting of Bellatrix and a teenage Thomus, plus a few others I can’t name. The oldest looking picture is of three girls. Two of them are obviously a young Bellatrix and Narcissa, but the third girl, she looks like a strange mixture of the two of them. The girl also bears a resemblance to… someone, but I can’t quite place it.

I barely notice when Narcissa rises from her desk, finished with her task. She comes to gaze at the pictures, too, standing next to me.

“He was quite tall, even then, wasn’t he?” she says. “I think he was only twelve when Lucius and I married.”

My eyes widen and they dart back to that photo. He’s nearly as tall as Lucius. “No way.”

She chuckles. “The Malfoy men have always been tall.”

“Must’ve eaten all their green beans,” I say. “My mom’s side of the family’s tall, too, and that’s what she’d say.” I glance at her and she just smiles in return, a soft acknowledgement. My eyes go back to the picture of the three girls. “Do you have another sister?”

She pauses a moment before answering, her expression turning somber. “Yes. Andromeda.”

“Did she not come to your wedding?” I ask. Andromeda is noticeably absent from the wedding photos. Then I smile sheepishly. “Sorry if I’m prying.”

Narcissa’s expression turns regretful. “It’s quite alright,” she says, and then takes a deep breath, her shoulders lifting. “She hasn’t been a part of our family for a long time.”

I frown. “That sounds dramatic.”

Her next words are spoken carefully. “Traditions and… prejudice run deep in families like ours,” she says. “I consider myself quite fortunate to have fallen in love with Lucius.” She can see the questions in my expression, so she continues. “She married a muggle born man named Edward Tonks and my parents disowned her.”

The lightbulb in my brain clicks. This must be Tonks’ parents. It’s no wonder I saw some resemblance.

“Did you?” I ask quietly.

She sighs. “In my own way. We write. It can be… difficult to put aside our upbringing. Prejudice isn’t just an external battle, but a mental one as well. One that has to be fought every day.”

“I understand,” I murmur. “Maybe if you weren’t the only one reconsidering all the brainwashing, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

A gentle smile returns to her face. “I’m not the only one.”

My eyebrows raise and I cross my arms, my tone light. “Oh? And who might that be? Definitely not someone like your sister.”

One perfectly shaped brow perks up. “You’ve definitely turned a certain someone’s life upside down.”

I’m confused for a split second, then I snort and have to cover a stupid, disbelieving grin on my face. “No, absolutely not.”

She merely smiles at me and doesn’t say anything. I regain control and look at her seriously.

“Really,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s not like that. He hates me. He’s said so himself.”

“If that’s true, then he has a funny way of showing it.”

I can only look at her dumbfounded. “I don’t know what he thinks,” I admit. “He says one thing and – and acts completely different than to the thing that he says. I’m sorry if that makes no sense. I’m confused myself most of the –“

“Melisa, dear,” she says, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Do yourself a favor and do not listen to a word he says.”

I press my lips together to prevent myself from thinking aloud. Shaking my head slightly as I try to think of a way out of this conversation, my eyes land on a camera displayed on a lower shelf. I step back to look at it and her hand drops from my shoulder.

“Is that a No-Maj camera?” I ask.

“Oh, em,” she steps back to view it as well. “I believe so. It belonged to Abraxas. Lucius and Thomus’ father.”

“Can I take a look?”

“Of course.”

I bend to grab it. It’s a Canon AE-1 Program. They were really popular in the ‘80s and even now to the film photographers. I have its predecessor, the regular AE-1. This one looks brand new.

“I believe I was told it was broken,” she says.

“Broken?” I turn the camera over, trying to look for something amiss. I look through the viewfinder. The light meter isn’t on, but I still press the shutter button. Nothing happens. “The battery probably just died.”

“Battery?” Narcissa questions.

“Mm-hm,” I hum, flipping the camera to the front to open the battery hatch. The 6V inside is all crusty. I hold it out for her to see, pointing to the small metallic cylinder. “That’s not supposed to look like that.”

I dig my finger into the compartment and pull the battery out, dusting and blowing out the white crust.

She holds her hand out. “May I see?” I drop it into her hand and she peers at it closer. “What does this do?”

“It’s an energy source to make it work,” I explain. “It just needs to be replaced.”

“This means the camera isn’t broken?”

“Nope,” I smile. “Should work just fine. It looks like Abraxas was almost done with this roll of film.”

“Would you –“ she starts but there’s a knock on the door. We both turn to see Hermione. “Oh, hello, dear. You’re here for dinner, aren’t you? I’m sorry we’ve kept you waiting.”

“It’s no trouble,” Hermione responds, stepping back.

I go to put the camera back on the shelf, but Narcissa stops me. “Bring that with us. Would you mind explaining to me the process for how it works?”

I straighten. “Oh, um, sure.”

“I’ll meet you and Hermione in the dining room,” Narcissa says, staying in the study while I join Hermione in the hall. “I just need to owl these.”

~*~

All through dinner Narcissa has questions while I explain how cameras work and the process for developing the film. She asks if it’s standard practice among wizard’s to use No-Maj cameras. I had to politely explain that camera’s made by wizards were typically garbage. At least all the ones I’d come across. The main photographer at The Daily Prophet used a heavily modified No-Maj one.

I end up talking all about my experience and how I got into photography in the first place. It’s not difficult to talk about Sam, but it’s easier to talk about her as if she’s still alive. I don’t want to explain she’s my entire reason for being here. Thankfully, Hermione doesn’t give me away. She’s known the truth since we met.

Photography had been a way to bridge the gap between our worlds. The magical and the non-magical. Going to separate schools and being so far away was difficult, but being able to send her photos of what life was like at school made it easier. It’s like I got to include her. Her way of sharing her world was writing really long letters. Vignettes and blurbs about what was going on in her life. Sometimes she’d send short stories and even poetry. She was an amazing writer.

Nearing the end of our meal, Narcissa asks if it’s possible for me to develop the film currently in the camera. I say yes, but there’s a whole list of things I’d need.

She just smiles. “If you get a written list to me, I’ll be more than happy to get what you need.”

“Really?” I ask, unsure. “You don’t have to go to all that trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” she reassures me. You would be doing our family a favor. The film is at least thirty years old. I’m dying of curiosity to know what’s on there.”

“Alright,” I say after a moment of thought. The opportunity to be able to do what’s so familiar to me, what’s more than just a hobby, is… fuck I’m excited. It’s almost too good to be true.

~*~

I finish The Disappearance of the Scourers that night, sitting with Hermione in her room. I don’t really find much in the way of magical slavery and I feel a bit discouraged. Hermione does as well, even though she’s sticking to the journals.

When I finally trudge to bed, I sleep in Thomus’ room again. I need to have regular, semi-decent sleep if I’m going to keep my head on my shoulders.

I wake in the morning, late morning, and on the nightstand where I’d put the camera, there’s a little paper wrapped package and a note. The elegant cursive tells me that the batteries and film were all she could obtain at the moment. A few of the ingredients for the developer on the list I’d given her will take some time.

I can’t remember since I’d been kidnapped, ever getting ready so fast. I practically sprint to my room to get dressed for the day. When I leave the room, camera locked and loaded, I follow my nose to the conservatory. Hermione and Narcissa are already seated having breakfast.

Without thinking, I launch myself at Narcissa, hugging her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Then I pull back, realizing that I probably shouldn’t be hugging a lady I don’t know all that well. “I’m sorry.”

She just smiles, if looking a little surprised, and straightens her dress. “It’s alright. I’m looking forward to seeing your work.”

“And I can’t wait to get started.” I can’t keep a grin off my face. I grab two pieces of toast and head for the door.

On my way out, I hear Hermione say, “I’m glad one of us is having a good time.”

The comment makes me slow down, and I pause, reigning in my excitement. I know she was being genuine and didn’t imply anything negative, but it still makes the guilt take hold. Thomus’ words of contempt as he reminded me of the privilege I have echo in my head.

Before I go outside, I grab the next book on the pile from the library. With the better sleep, I’m feeling more mentally able to help Hermione with the research.

It’s another beautiful day. Mostly overcast, my favorite kind of lighting, and a little windy. When I get to the clearing, my eyes immediately go to the spot where the blank paper is. Seeing that it’s exactly as I left it, I don’t bother to look at it closer.

For a little while, I roam the garden, trying to figure out what exactly I want to take pictures of. There’s only twenty-four frames and I want to make each of them count. I get a good shot of the house, an artistic angle of the maze, and a beautiful shot of the gazebo out on the pond.

I take myself back to the clearing, getting ready to settle for at least an hour of reading. From where I sit, there’s a perfect shot of the house, framed by the trees and foliage. I take the shot, and keep the camera to my eye, looking around through it. I turn towards the fence, the paper stuck under the rock is flapping in the breeze. I turn the lens to zoom in, noticing something on the paper. I want to make sure it’s maybe a blade of grass or a leaf stuck in between the folded paper. The lens focuses and I realize it’s not any of those things.

It's writing.

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blogynews · 7 months

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"Unveiling of India's Grandeur: MP's CM Chouhan Set to Reveal Epic 108-ft Adi Shankaracharya Statue in Omkareshwar Today! What Lies Behind this Majestic Masterpiece?"

Madhya Pradesh Chief Minister Shivraj Singh Chouhan will unveil a 108-ft tall statue of Adi Shankaracharya in Omkareshwar today. The statue is located on the Mandhata mountain, overlooking the picturesque banks of the Narmada River, approximately 80 km away from Indore. According to Khandwa Collector Anoop Kumar Singh, the awe-inspiring multi-metal sculpture stands on a 54-foot-high pedestal and…

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blogynewz · 7 months

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"Unveiling of India's Grandeur: MP's CM Chouhan Set to Reveal Epic 108-ft Adi Shankaracharya Statue in Omkareshwar Today! What Lies Behind this Majestic Masterpiece?"

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blogynewsz · 7 months

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"Unveiling of India's Grandeur: MP's CM Chouhan Set to Reveal Epic 108-ft Adi Shankaracharya Statue in Omkareshwar Today! What Lies Behind this Majestic Masterpiece?"

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thetamrieliclibrary · 3 years

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Pocket Guide to the Empire, First Edition: Skyrim

Skyrim, also known as the Old Kingdom or the Fatherland[1], was the first region of Tamriel settled by humans: the hardy, brave, warlike Nords, whose descendants still occupy this rugged land, and, although perhaps somewhat reduced from the legendary renown of their forebears of old, the Nords of the pure blood still unquestionably surpass the mixed races in all the manly virtues.

Exactly when the Nords first crossed the ice-choked Sea of Ghosts from Atmora, their original homeland, is uncertain. As recorded in the Song of Return, Ysgramor and his family first landed in Tamriel at Hsaarik Head, at the extreme northern tip of Skyrim's Broken Cape, fleeing civil war in Atmora (then rather warmer than at present, as it seems to have supported a substantial population). These first settlers named the land "Mereth", after the Elves that roamed the untamed wilderness which then covered the whole of Tamriel. For a time, relations between Men and Elves were harmonious, and the Nords throve in the new land, summoning more of their kin from the North to build the city of Saarthal, the site of which has recently been located by Imperial archaeologists in the vicinity of modern Winterhold. But the Elves saw that the vital young race would soon surpass their stagnant culture[2] if left unchecked, and fell upon the unsuspecting Nords in the infamous Night of Tears; Saarthal was burned, and only Ysgramor and two of his sons[3] fought free of the carnage and escaped to Atmora. The Elves, however, had reckoned without the indomitable spirit of the Nords. Gathering his legendary Five Hundred Companions (whose names are still recited every Thirteenth of Sun's Dawn at the Feast of the Dead in Windhelm), Ysgramor returned to Tamriel with a vengeance, driving the Elves out of Skyrim and laying the foundations of the first human Empire.

It may be that the exploits of the near-mythical Ysgramor conflate the reigns of several early Nord Kings, as the Elves were not finally driven from the present boundaries of Skyrim until the reign of King Harald, the thirteenth of Ysgramor's line, at the dawn of recorded history. King Harald is also remembered for being the first King to relinquish all holdings in Atmora; the Nords of Skyrim were now a separate people, whose faces were turned firmly toward their destiny, the conquest of the vast new land of Tamriel. Indeed, the history of the Nords is the history of humans in Tamriel; all the human races, with the exception of the Redguards, are descended from Nordic stock, although in some the ancient blood admittedly runs thin.

King Vrage the Gifted began the expansion that led to the First Empire of the Nords. Within a span of fifty years, Skyrim ruled all of northern Tamriel, including most of present-day High Rock, a deep stretch of the Nibenay Valley, and the whole of Morrowind. The Conquest of Morrowind was one of the epic clashes of the First Era, when ensued many a desperate contest between Nord and Dunmer in the hills and glades of that dire kingdom, still recalled by the songs of the minstrels in the alehouses of Skyrim. The system of succession in the First Empire is worthy of note, as it proved in the end to be the Empire's undoing. By the early years of the First Empire, Skyrim was already divided into Holds, then ruled by a patchwork of clan-heads, kings, and councils (or moots), all of which paid fealty to the King of Skyrim. During the exceptionally long reign of King Harald, who died at 108 years of age and outlived all but three of his sons, a Moot was created, made up of representatives from each Hold, to choose the next King from qualified members of the royal family. Over the years, the Moot became permanent and acquired an increasing amount of power; by the reign King Borgas, the last of the Ysgramor dynasty, the Moot had become partisan and ineffective. Upon the murder[4] of King Borgas by the Wild Hunt (See Aldmeri--Valenwood), the Moot's failure to appoint the obvious and capable Jarl Hanse of Winterhold sparked the disastrous Skyrim War of Succession, during which Skyrim lost control of its territories in High Rock, Morrowind, and Cyrodiil, never to regain them. The war was finally concluded in 1E420 with the Pact of Chieftains; henceforth, the Moot was convened only when a King died without direct heirs, and it has fulfilled this more limited role admirably. It has only been called upon three times in the intervening millennia, and the Skyrim succession has never again been disputed on the field of battle.

The lands of Skyrim is the most rugged on the continent, containing four of the five highest peaks in Tamriel (see Places of Note: Throat of the World). Only in the west do the mountains abate to the canyons and mesas of the Reach, by far the most cosmopolitan of the Holds of Skyrim, Nords of the pure blood holding only the barest majority according to the recent Imperial Census. The rest of Skyrim is a vertical world: the high ridges of the northwest-to-southeast slanting mountain ranges, cleft by deep, narrow valleys where most of the population resides. Along the sides of the river valleys, sturdy Nord farmers raise a wide variety of crops; wheat flourishes in the relatively temperate river bottoms, while only the snowberry bushes can survive in the high orchards near the treeline. The original Nord settlements were generally established on rocky crags overlooking a river valley; many of these villages still survive in the more isolated Holds, especially along the Morrowind frontier. In most of Skyrim, however, this defensive posture was deemed unnecessary by the mid-first era, and most cities and towns today lie on the valley floors, in some cases still overlooked by the picturesque ruins of the earlier settlement.

Nords are masters of wood and timber construction; many structures survive in use today that were built by the first settlers over 3,000 years ago. A fine example of Nord military engineering can be seen at Old Fort, one of the royal bastions constructed by the First Empire to guard its southern frontier. Towering walls of huge, irregular porphyry blocks fit together without seam or mortar, as if constructed by mythical Elhnofey rather than men.

The nine Holds present a varied aspect in people, government, and trade. The Reach could be mistaken for one of the petty kingdoms of High Rock; it is full of Bretons, Redguards, Cyrodiils, Elves of all stripes, and even a few misplaced khajiit. The northern and eastern Holds--Winterhold Hold, Eastmarch, The Rift, and the Pale, known collectively as the Old Holds--remain more isolated, by geography and choice, and the Nords there still hold true to the old ways. Outsiders are a rarity, usually a once-yearly visit from an itinerant peddler. The young men go out for weeks into the high peaks in the dead of winter, hunting the ice wraiths that give them claim to full status as citizens (a laughable practice that could serve as a model for the more "civilized" regions of the Empire). Here, too, the people still revere their hereditary leaders, while the other Holds have long been governed (after a fashion) by elected moots. It is fortunate for Skyrim and the Septim Empire that the people of the Old Holds have preserved the traditions of their forefathers. Skyrim has long been dormant, slumbering through the millennia while upstart conquerors bestrode the Arena of Tamriel. But now, a son of Skyrim[5] once again holds the world's destiny in his hands. If Skyrim is to wake, its rebirth will be led by these true Nords who remain its best hope for the future.

[TRAVELER: I found many of these mountain villages almost empty of young men, who have been seduced into joining Septim's army by promises of wealth and glory; the village elders see little hope of their sons ever returning.]

Snow Elves[6]

Nords attribute almost any misfortune or disaster to the machinations of the Falmer, or Snow Elves, be it crop failure, missing sheep, or a traveller lost crossing a high pass. These mythical beings are popularly believed to be the descendants of the original Elven population, and are said to reside in the remote mountain fastnesses that cover most of Skyrim. However, there is no tangible evidence that this Elven community survives outside the imaginations of superstitious villagers.

The Tongues

The Nords have long practiced a spiritual form of magic known as "The Way of the Voice", based largely on their veneration of the Wind as the personification of Kynareth. Nords consider themselves to be the children of the sky, and the breath and the voice of a Nord is his vital essence. Through the use of the Voice, the vital power of a Nord can be articulated into a Thu'um, or shout. Shouts can be used to sharpen blades or to strike enemies at a distance. Masters of the Voice are known as Tongues, and their power is legendary. They can call to specific people over hundreds of miles, and can move by casting a shout, appearing where it lands. The most powerful Tongues cannot speak without causing destruction. They must go gagged, and communicate through a sign language and through scribing runes.

In the days of the Conquest of Morrowind and the founding of the First Empire, the great Nord war chiefs--Derek the Tall, Jorg Helmbolg, Hoag Merkiller--were all Tongues. When they attacked a city, they needed no siege engines; the Tongues would form up in a wedge in front of the gatehouse, and draw a breath. When the leader let it out in a thu'um, the doors were blown in, and the axemen rushed into the city. Such were the men that forged the First Empire. But, alas for the Nords, one of the mightiest of all the Tongues, Jurgen Windcaller (or the Calm, as he is better known today), became converted to a pacifist creed that denounced use of the Voice for martial exploits. His philosophy prevailed, largely due to his unshakable mastery of the Voice--his victory was sealed in a legendary confrontation, where The Calm is said to have "swallowed the Shouts" of seventeen Tongues of the militant school for three days until his opponents all lay exhausted (and then became his disciples). Today, the most ancient and powerful of the Tongues live secluded on the highest peaks in contemplation, and have spoken once only in living memory, to announce the destiny of the young Tiber Septim (as recounted in Cyrodiil). In gratitude, the Emperor has recently endowed a new Imperial College of the Voice in Markarth[7], dedicated to returning the Way of the Voice to the ancient and honourable art of war. So it may be that the mighty deeds of the Nord heroes of old will soon be equalled or surpassed on the battlefields of the present day.

Places of Note

Haafingar (Solitude)

The home of the famous Bards' College, Haafingar is also one of Skyrim's chief ports, and ships from up and down the coast can be found at her crowded quays, loading umber and salted cod for the markets of Wayrest, West Anvil, and Senchal. Founded during Skyrim's long Alessian flirtation, the Bards' College continues to flaunt a heretical streak, and its students are famous carousers, fittingly enough for their chosen trade. Students yearly invade the marketplace for a week of revelry, the climax of which is the burning of "King Olaf" in effigy, possibly a now-forgotten contender in the War of Succession. Graduates have no trouble finding employment in noble households across Tamriel, including the restored Imperial Court in Cyrodiil, but many still choose to follow in the wandering footsteps of illustrious alumni such as Callisos and Morachellis.

Windhelm

Once the capital of the First Empire, the palace of the Ysgramor dynasty still dominates the centre of the Old City. Windhelm was sacked during the War of Succession, and again by the Akaviri army of Ada'Soon Dir-Kamal; the Palace of the Kings is one of the few First Empire buildings that remains. Today, Windhelm remains the only sizable city in the otherwise determinedly rural Hold of Eastmarch, and serves as a base for Imperial troops guarding the Dunmeth Pass into Morrowind.

Throat of the World

This is the highest mountain in Skyrim, and the highest in Tamriel aside from Vvardenfell in Morrowind. The Nords believe men were formed on this mountain when the sky breathed onto the land. Hence the Song of Return refers not only to Ysgramor's return to Tamriel after the destruction of Saarthal, but to the Nords' return to what they believe was their original homeland. Pilgrims travel from across Skyrim to climb the Seven Thousand Steps to High Hrothgar, where the most ancient and honoured Greybeards[8] dwell in absolute silence in their quest to become ever more attuned to the voice of the sky.

Annotations

Annotations by YR:

"Most of the Nords I met seemed amused by this 'Fatherland' nonsense ~ the war with the 'Aldmeri Dominion' was the furthest thing in their minds."

"!"

"Ysgramor's provocations and blasphemies have, of course, been long forgotten."

"Righteous slaying."

"A disputed claim."

"Uncle, I saw signs that might be Falmer boundary-runes, but nothing sure. If any survive, they are wary and withdrawn."

"Septim's new college is staffed by hacks and charlatans ~ the so-called Grand Master is said to have formerly earned his living as a street performer in Windhelm ~ the students are scions of the most obsequious Nord families, hoping to curry favour with Tiber Septim's New Order ~"

"~ At last, a few Men worthy of respect. I met with an ancient Greybeard who could actually converse with me almost as an equal ~ my only such experience among the humans so far ~"

~ Follow for more books, journals, and notes from the Elder Scrolls series ~ Updates daily ~

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fuyonggu · 4 years

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Lu Ji’s “Discourse on the Fall of Wu (Part 1)”

Lu Ji was the grandson of Lu Xun and the son of Lu Kang; he was noted as being a literary genius, along with his younger brother Lu Yun.

以孫氏在吳，而祖父世為將相，有大勳於江表，深慨孫皓舉而棄之，乃論權所以得，皓所以亡，又欲述其祖父功業，遂作《辯亡論》二篇。其上篇曰：昔漢氏失禦，奸臣竊命，禍基京畿，毒遍宇內，皇綱弛頓，王室遂卑。於是群雄蜂駭，義兵四合。吳武烈皇帝慷慨下國，電發荊南，權略紛紜，忠勇伯世，威棱則夷羿震盪，兵交則醜虜授馘，遂掃清宗祊，蒸禋皇祖。于時雲興之將帶州，猋起之師跨邑，哮闞之群風驅，熊羆之族霧合。雖兵以義動，同盟戮力，然皆苞藏禍心，阻兵怙亂，或師無謀律，喪威稔寇。忠規武節，未有如此其著者也。

Lu Ji considered how, during the reign of the Sun clan in Eastern Wu, his grandfather and father had served that state as generals and chief ministers and had performed great deeds on its behalf. He bitterly lamented his family's loss of status after Sun Hao came to power. Thus Lu Ji wrote an essay in two parts on the rise and fall of Eastern Wu, in which he extolled the deeds of Sun Quan (who had employed his grandfather Lu Xun) and castigated the errors of Sun Hao, as well as glorifying the achievements and the efforts of his father and grandfather. This essay was titled Thoughts on the Fall of Wu.

In the first part, he wrote, "Many years ago, the Han dynasty lost control of the realm, as a wicked subject (Dong Zhuo) grasped for power. The disaster reached even the capital region, the foundation of the state, while the poison spread all throughout the realm. The imperial laws were ignored with impunity, and the royal family was reduced to a pitiful state.

"Our Emperor Wulie (Sun Jian), who sympathized with the plight of the state, set out like a flash of lightning from the south of Jingzhou (at Changsha). In planning and strategy he was meticulous and thorough; in courage and loyalty he was an exemplar for the age. With a mere display of strength, the barbarians cowered in fear of him; at the first clash of arms, the despicable villains surrendered their heads. Thus he purged and swept clear the temples and shrines of the Han dynasty and offered prayers and sacrifices to the imperial ancestors.

"There were other men of fortune in those days, to be sure, who likewise called for uprisings on every side. Some of their hosts were like clouds gathered across several provinces, and others were like whirlwinds which engulfed entire cities; some conjured their swarms like billowing gales, and others came into being like so many bears and beasts. But though all these forces claimed to serve a righteous cause and swore to unite their efforts under one banner, yet there was evil within their hearts, for they sought only to take advantage of the chaos through the power of their armies. Indeed, some of these leaders had no greater design than to deepen the turmoil and seize whatever they could. Who among them was loyal or chaste, disciplined or dutiful? Not a one could measure up.

武烈既沒，長沙桓王逸才命世，弱冠秀髮，招攬遺老，與之述業。神兵東驅，奮寡犯眾，攻無堅城之將，戰無交鋒之虜。誅叛柔服，而江外底定；飭法修師，則威德翕赫。賓禮名賢，而張公為之雄；交禦豪俊，而周瑜為之傑。彼二君子皆弘敏而多奇，雅達而聰哲，故同方者以類附，等契者以氣集，江東蓋多士矣。將北伐諸華，誅鉏幹紀，旋皇輿於夷庚，反帝坐於紫闥，挾天子以令諸侯，清天步而歸舊物。戎車既次，群凶側目，大業未就，中世而殞。

"Though Emperor Wulie soon met his end, our King of Changsha (Sun Ce) proved himself to be an exceptional talent and a master of the age. His brilliance emerged even in the bloom of youth, and he beckoned forth the aged veterans of his father and set out on his enterprise with them. He charged to the east like some god of war, leading a mere handful to smash great multitudes. When he assaulted a city, no sturdy walls could stop him; when he faced a foe in the field, no fierce vanguard could withstand him. He punished the rebellious and soothed the submissive, thus the lands beyond the Yangzi became peaceful and tranquil; he observed the laws and enforced military restraint, thus he won acclaim both for his power and his virtue.

"The King was courteous and respectful to those of fine reputation and worthy conduct, and so Lord Zhang (Zhang Zhao) regarded him as a hero; he was welcoming and receptive to those of good families and great talents, and so Zhou Yu considered him to be a marvel. And were those two gentlemen not men of broad intellect and ingenious designs, refined character and profound thinking? Encouraged by their example, everyone within the same region attached themselves to the King's cause; he gained a host of accomplished servants like a gathering of the winds, for the Southland had many worthy fellows indeed.

"It was the King's desire to lead a northern campaign into the lands of the Hua (the Central Plains), to bring fire and sword to the evildoers and outlaws there. He aimed to place the imperial carriage in the hands of a loyal adherent and return the imperial throne to the Purple Palace (the Emperor's residence); with the Son of Heaven under his control, he could issue orders to the feudal lords, purify the path of Heaven, and restore things to their former state. In fact he went so far as to assemble his army and chariots and advance towards the north, and the villains were all gazing sideways towards him out of sheer terror at his approach. Yet before this grand cause could reach fruition, the King was cut down in his prime.

用集我大皇帝，以奇蹤襲逸軌，睿心因令圖，從政咨於故實，播憲稽乎遺風；而加之以篤敬，申之以節儉，疇諮俊茂，好謀善斷，束帛旅於丘園，旌命交乎塗巷。故豪彥尋聲而響臻，志士晞光而景騖，異人輻輳，猛士如林。於是張公為師傅；周瑜、陸公、魯肅、呂蒙之儔，入為腹心，出為股肱；甘甯、淩統、程普、��齊、硃桓、硃然之徒奮其威，韓當、潘璋、黃蓋、蔣欽、周泰之屬宣其力；風雅則諸葛瑾、張承、步騭以名聲光國，政事則顧雍、潘浚、呂范、呂岱以器任幹職，奇偉則虞翻、陸績、張惇以風義舉政，奉使則趙咨、沈珩以敏達延譽，術數則吳范、趙達以禨祥協德；董襲、陳武殺身以衛主，駱統、劉基強諫以補過。謀無遺計，舉不失策。故遂割據山川，跨制荊、吳，而與天下爭衡矣。魏氏嘗藉戰勝之威，率百萬之師，浮鄧塞之舟，下漢陰之眾，羽楫萬計，龍躍順流，銳師千旅，武步原隰，謨臣盈室，武將連衡，喟然有吞江滸之志，壹宇宙之氣。而周瑜驅我偏師，黜之赤壁，喪旗亂轍，僅而獲免，收跡遠遁。漢王亦憑帝王之號，帥巴、漢之人，乘危騁變，結壘千里，志報關羽之敗，圖收湘西之地。而我陸公亦挫之西陵，覆師敗績，困而後濟，絕命永安。續以濡須之寇，臨川摧銳；蓬蘢之戰，孑輪不反。由是二邦之將，喪氣挫鋒，勢<血醜>財匱，而吳莞然坐乘其弊，故魏人請好，漢氏乞盟，遂躋天號，鼎峙而立。西界庸、益之郊，北裂淮、漢之涘，東苞百越之地，南括群蠻之表。於是講八代之禮，搜三王之樂，告類上帝，拱揖群後。武臣毅卒，循江而守；長棘勁鎩，望猋而奮。庶尹盡規于上，黎元展業於下，化協殊裔，風衍遐圻。乃俾一介行人，撫巡外域，巨象逸駿，擾於外閑，明珠瑋寶，耀於內府，珍瑰重跡而至，奇玩應響而赴；輶軒騁于南荒，沖輣息於朔野；黎庶免干戈之患，戎馬無晨服之虞，而帝業固矣。

"However, we were blessed with the presence of our Grand Emperor (Sun Quan). Through his unique talents, he picked up and followed the trail that had been lost; through his farsighted heart, he continued the lapsed mandate. He adopted wise policies to give substance to the government; he gathered sage ordinances to emulate the spirit of the ancients. And he enhanced these things through sincerity and respect and conveyed them through dutifulness and frugality. He was discerning in soliciting the advice of the wise and the talented, and he was an adept thinker and a decisive leader. He distributed silks and grains through the hills and parks, and he displayed his banners and his commands throughout the roads and streets.

"Thus the leaders and gentry of the region heard the call and came to join him, and the ambitious gentlemen of the land wept at his splendor and were glad to be his shadows. Outstanding figures surrounded him like spokes round a hub, stalwart warriors flanked him like a great forest. So it was that Lord Zhang (Zhang Zhao) became his teacher and tutor; so it was that Zhou Yu, Lord Lu (Lu Xun), Lu Su, and Lü Meng became his four champions, serving as his heart and lungs within and his arms and legs without. Such men as Gan Ning, Ling Tong, Cheng Pi, He Qi, Zhu Huan, and Zhu Ran gave him their courage; such figures as Han Dang, Pan Zhang, Huang Gai, Jiang Qin, and Zhou Tai lent him their strength. For culture and refinement, he had Zhuge Jin, Zhang Cheng, and Bu Zhi, whose reputation and influence glorified the state; for administrative skill, he had Gu Yong, Pan Jun, Lü Fan, and Lü Dai, who were credits to their ranks and masters of their roles; for scintillating talents, he had Yu Fan, Lu Xu, and Zhang Dun, whose lofty and righteous spirits uplifted the government. Zhao Zi and Chen Hang had he for envoys, and their nimble tongues and quick wit secured the state's reputation; Wu Fan and Zhao Da had he for mystics, whose divinations and omens ensured the state's blessings. Dong Xi and Chen Wu kept him from harm with vigorous efforts; Luo Tong and Liu Ji steered him from error with forceful remonstrations. In planning, nothing was overlooked or left out; in action, no aspect of strategy was forgotten. And it was for these reasons that the Grand Emperor was able to carve out and occupy the mountains and rivers of his domain, straddling and controlling the regions of Jing and Wu and contending for control of all the realm.

"The lord of Wei (Cao Cao), riding high on his string of victories, led forth an army of a million soldiers against us. He sailed a great fleet through the Deng Narrows and descended upon the south bank of the Han River with a massive host; his feathers and oars numbered in the tens of thousands as he swept down the rivers like a dragon. Fierce cavalry he had by the thousands, while his tiger infantry strode through the plains and marshes. His advisors and strategists filled entire rooms; his officers and generals rode in rows of war carts. He proclaimed his ambition to swallow up all the lands of the lakes and streams and unite the entire realm under his sole dominion. Yet Zhou Yu led forth a meager force to smite this foe at Chibi. The enemy was put to flight and thrown into total confusion; it was only by a narrow escape that he got away with his life, and he scampered far away and fled back where he came from.

"The King of Han (Liu Bei) too claimed the title of sovereign. At the head of an army of the men of Ba and Han, he courted danger and invited calamity, laying out his camps and ramparts across a distance of a thousand li. He sought to avenge the defeat of Guan Yu and reclaim the lands west of the Xiang River. But our Lord Lu (Lu Xun) gave him the same treatment, thrashing him at Xiling (Yiling); the King's army was broken and destroyed, only with great difficulty did he break free from our pursuit, and in the end he expired at Yong'an (Baidicheng).

"Though Wei sought to invade us at Ruxu, we stood firm upon the bank and crushed them; though they attacked us at Penglong, we fought them off and did not yield.

"Thus did we destroy the forces and shake the morale of these our two rivals; their blood and treasure were greatly spent, while Wu stood smug to take advantage of their weakness. So the people of Wei asked us for a peace agreement, and the leaders of Han begged us for an alliance. And by the time our lord had claimed the heavenly title, the realm had settled into a tripartite division.

"To the west we encroached upon the borders of Yong and Yi (Yizhou); to the north we occupied the lines of the rivers Huai and Han; to the east we conquered the lands of the Yue peoples; to the south we bought the Man tribes under our control. The Grand Emperor discussed the rites of the Eight Monarchs (the Five Emperors and Three Sovereigns) and sought out the music of the Three Founders (of Xia, Shang, and Zhou), and he announced his affairs to the Supreme Deity and paid his respects to the various nobles. Our martial servants and valiant soldiers stoutly guarded the Yangzi; with their long lances and strong spears, they zealously seized the spirit of the whirlwind. The subjects of the state observed full propriety above, and the common people practiced their livelihoods below; moral transformation spread to every corner, and good culture touched every place. Envoys and agents were sent out to comfort and inspect the furthest regions. Enormous elephants and incredible horses swarmed about in the outer stables; bright jewels and precious treasures glittered in the inner storehouses. Again and again, wondrous baubles were sent to us; time after time, strange trinkets arrived at our court. Carriages aplenty swiftly brought word from out of the southern wastes; convoys of carts quickly brought news from out of the northern wilds. The people were spared from the terrors of warfare, and the warhorses had no need for morning exercises. The imperial legacy was secure.

大皇既沒，幼主蒞朝，奸回肆虐。景皇聿興，虔修遺憲，政無大闕，守文之良主也。降及歸命之初，典刑未滅，故老猶存。大司馬陸公以文武熙朝，左丞相陸凱以謇諤盡規，而施績、範慎以威重顯，丁奉、鐘離斐以武毅稱，孟宗、丁固之徒為公卿，樓玄、賀邵之屬掌機事，元首雖病，股肱猶良。爰逮末葉，群公既喪，然後黔首有瓦解之患，皇家有土崩之釁，曆命應化而微，王師躡運而發，卒散于陳，眾奔於邑，城池無籓籬之固，山川無溝阜之勢，非有工輸雲梯之械，智伯灌激之害，楚子築室之圍，燕人濟西之隊，軍未浹辰而社稷夷矣。雖忠臣孤憤，烈士死節，將奚救哉！

"Once the Grand Emperor left us, the Young Lord (Sun Liang) sat the throne for a time, while miscreants flaunted their cruel and wicked power. After them came Emperor Jing (Sun Xiu), who brought the laws back into their proper form. He was devoted to and restored the old order of things, and he committed no great faults in his governance of the state. He was a good leader who maintained what was right. But next was the Marquis of Guiming (Sun Hao).

"At the beginning of the Marquis' reign, the laws and canons had not yet been dispensed with, and the veteran servants of the previous rulers were still in place. The Grand Marshal, Lord Lu (Lu Kang), did honor to the court with his civil talents and his martial prowess; the Prime Minister of the Left, Lu Kai, ensured integrity through his forthright and honest admonitions. There were Shi Ji and Fan Shen, conspicuous for their valor and gravity, and Ding Feng and Zhongli Fei, acclaimed for their might and resolve; there were people like Meng Zong and Ding Gu to act as great ministers and fellows like Lou Xuan and He Shao to handle the state's affairs. Though the head of the state was sick, still the limbs remained healthy and strong. Alas, in the end they were still only the branches and leaves of the state, and after their demise, Wu came to grief.

"It has been said that a state need not fear 'a calamity of falling tiles' (an external threat), but what it ought to fear is 'a disaster of a collapsing mound' (an internal weakness). Our people had been ready to combat any danger of 'falling tiles', but the imperial family fell prey to a 'collapsing mound'. By the time the government army (of Jin) had seized the momentum and set out to attack, the Mandate had already passed from us and the legitimacy of the ruler had diminished. Our soldiers scattered from their formations, and our people abandoned their cities; our walls and moats proved less useful than mere barricades and fences, and our mountains and rivers were no greater obstacles than little hills and ditches. No one was prepared to face 'the cloud ladders of Gong Shu' or endure 'the floodwaters of Zhi Yao'; there was never a need for the enemy to emulate the Viscount of Chu by 'building houses at the siege lines' or the generals of Yan by 'routing us west of Ji'. Our army resisted for not even a fortnight before the altars of state collapsed. And though there were some generals who were loyal to the last and planned never to yield, or others who would die rather than abandon their duty, how could this mere handful have saved the state alone?

夫曹、劉之將非一世所選，向時之師無曩日之眾，戰守之道抑有前符，險阻之利俄然未改，而成敗貿理，古今詭趣，何哉？彼此之化殊，授任之才異也。

"The generals of the armies of Cao Cao and Liu Bei were not inferior to those of the recent invasion, nor was the enemy strength of former times less than in the late campaign; the methods of how to attack and how to defend had not been altered since before, and the natural defenses and terrain of our state were no less perilous to the foe. Yet we prevailed then and faltered now, which goes against reason and makes a mockery of sense. Why did it happen? Because of the difference in character between the ruler then and the one now, the distinction in talent between that granter of offices and ours."

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ara-la · 5 years

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Brilliant history of indigenous North America from Quora

Why did no ancient civilization come up the Mississippi river valley even though it had similar conditions to other river valley civilizations?

Jonathan Hall

, Sapient primate since 1996, enjoys learning about things

Updated Jan 27

· Upvoted by

Roderick White

, PhD Ancient History, University College London (2018)

It really is a pity that even today, despite all the literature, museums and outreach, even the average citizen of the eastern United States is still blissfully unaware of the complex societies whose remnants they often walk or drive right over.

Story time!

The Eastern Woodlands of the United States has been a nexus for stratified civilization since 3500 B.C. The Mississippi River area was even home to its own independent cradle of agriculture known as the Eastern Agricultural Complex, from which we still have popular vegetables like squash and sunflower. The peoples that farmed these crops have been traditionally termed the “Mound Builders”, so named for their apparent proclivity towards earthworks. The term is a bit dated now, and archaeologists today are able to differentiate specific cultures, but “mound-building peoples” is often still used to describe the cultures in general.

There have been many mound-building societies over the course of North American history. We’ll probably never know the exact political relationships, but we can identify consistencies in material culture and living patterns. The first one that really seems to take off across the board is the Hopewell:

Starting around 100 BC, sites all around the Mississippi start adopting a similar set of traits such as pottery styles, arrowhead techniques and artistic motifs, along with a much more pronounced sense of social stratification. The Hopewell appear to have begun with the Ohio Hopewell, which built upon the stratified Adena culture that existed since 1000 BC on the Ohio River valley, which connects to the Mississippi. The Hopewell greatly proliferate the number of mounds constructed in the Eastern Woodlands and diversify their uses.

One of the most iconic examples of the Hopewell are the Newark Earthworks: a series of interconnected circles, walls and moats that appear to serve as a massive lunar observatory. The Moon’s orbit ‘wobbles’ in relation to the Earth: at one extreme the orbit is rotated one way, and rotated the other way at the other extreme. The point in this cycle where the Moon’s orbital plane reaches its northernmost or southernmost extent before going back to the other is termed the lunar standstill, which produces an effect not unlike the Sun’s solstices. This happens every 18 years, 7 months and almost 10 days. The Newark Earthworks are able to track the Moon’s declination until the next standstill with remarkable precision.

Newark today. A country club still owns parts of the earthworks.

It’s possible that the Ohio Hopewell had such influence over the Eastern Woodlands that they may have started a new religious movement, or perhaps their influence was economical and assimilating their culture was better for business, or people may have simply admired parts of their culture enough to replicate it. A mix of the three may have happened, but we might never know specifically why people wanted to copy them.

What we do know was that their influence was phenomenal. The Hopewell had access to a trade network that extended all the way to the Great Lakes, the Gulf of Mexico and the Rockies, with artifacts from these regions showing up in Ohio:

In the year 500, the bow and arrow trickled southward after being introduced by the Inuit from northern Canada. This makes hunting (and fighting) much more accessible, freeing people up from their dependencies on crops and some hierarchical control.

From there the magic begins to die for the Hopewell and the societies within its sphere fall into the geographically broader-ranging Woodland period. The 500 years of the Late Woodland period saw a great intensity in fortification, a significant reduction in mound-building (though some are still built) and more numerous, smaller walled villages instead of the larger towns of the Middle Woodland’s Hopewell. This lifestyle, in some form, actually lasted in the periphery of the Eastern Woodlands until the arrival of Europeans.

By the year 1000, however, something new appears in the heart of the Mississippi. People are once again gathering in large towns and forming wealthy elites under the control of powerful rulers who began using earthworks to proclaim their legitimacy. Corn (maize) was introduced to the Eastern Woodlands in 200 BC, but had a hard time dealing with the colder climates. However, new cold-hardy cultivars had finally been developed and were taking the Eastern Woodlands by storm into a new agricultural revolution. Things were about to get corny.

Archaeologists have given these corn-crazy, mound-building chiefdoms the aptly-named title of the Mississippians:

This is where things really start getting big. The power and influence of chiefs have increased drastically into large, multi-town paramount chiefdoms, though if we’re being completely honest some of these really resemble early kingdoms and the difference is largely semantic. The massive trade networks have fired back up and are bringing in more goods than ever before. They especially love Great Lakes copper. Art, culture and religious expression have also greatly expanded and this cultural movement reaches nearly every corner of the Mississippi River watershed:

The “Sponemann Figurine” from Cahokia. The headwrap seen on her head has been documented in historical Native American tribes:

Copper plate of a falcon-eyed man from Spiro Mounds, Oklahoma:

“Crouching Man” effigy pipe from Shiloh Indian Mounds, Tennessee:

More Spiro copper plate art, including a falcon dancer (or warrior) to the left. These are replicas for Spiro’s museum exhibit:

“Conquering Warrior” effigy pipe from Spiro. The wooden slat backshield he is wearing has similarities to the armor worn by Great Lakes tribes, which also protected the head and neck in this way:

Wood duck effigy bowl, diorite. Moundville, Alabama:

Shell gorget of two dancers from the McClung Museum of Natural History & Culture in Tennessee:

But one of the most profound examples of Mississippian culture, and what everybody wants to see when they visit the sites, are of course the mounds:

Winterville Mounds, Mississippi

These are no mere piles of dirt either, but alternating layers of various clays and particulates that each have their own physical properties and ostensibly spiritual meanings to ensure the greatest structural stability and proper religious status. Most of these clays were sourced from many miles out, even when a more convenient source was nearby. Most of these mounds were built to house a temple or chief, and the larger mounds served as residential-religious complexes for the elites. When the person living on the mound died, his house was burnt with any of his belongings and a new mound was constructed atop.

The most impressive of these Mississippian mounds, still standing today (in somewhat eroded form) is Monks Mound in the archaeological site of Cahokia:

This terraced platform mound is 100 feet high, 775 feet wide, and 955 feet long; slightly larger at the base than the largest Egyptian pyramid.

The mound held multiple large buildings, including that of the paramount chief who overlooked a city we call Cahokia, the largest in pre-Columbian North America north of the Rio Grande, existing from A.D 1050 to 1350.

And there’s a highway right through it…

(A little outdated: there is evidence of clay caps on many Mississippian mounds, which means these mounds would have been a bright yellow or red instead of turf green)

The safe estimate for Cahokia’s population is around 20,000 people, but it has sometimes been given twice that. Either way, it’s reasonably impressive for the area and historical context. Our modern life has made us used to megacities spanning hundreds of thousands or millions of people, but to put 20,000 souls into perspective: This is close to the same size as London in 1200. Berlin was a quaint village of barely over a thousand at this time. Paris had very recently become a medieval metropolis at a hundred thousand people, but had floated at around 35,000 for about a millennium. The modern city of Ithaca, New York is around 30,000.

This city was America’s first melting pot, bringing in peoples from very distant regions who came for trade, religion and safety. The city was organized into districts according to class and sometimes function, including ‘industrial zones’ for production of things like beads, tools, pottery and copper art.

Outside the walled ceremonial district was a “Woodhenge”; a circular arrangement of poles that track the position of the sun like a giant solar calendar. Nearly all of the buildings are aligned to the four cardinal directions; the four directions to this day are important to many Native American tribes. Some pits within the city were dug as a source of clay and, if we can glean from historical accounts of native towns, were likely flooded and stocked with fish.

Cahokia faced many typical issues of a large early city: social order, sanitation, dietary deficiencies, and especially resource exhaustion (good timber had to be brought in from upriver). In finding a reason for Cahokia’s fall, it seems to have dealt with these okay enough. But some time after 1200 AD came an unusually wet era for the Mississippians, and all that extra rainfall drained into and rushed down the Mississippi, which would have drenched all of Cahokia but the tops of its mounds.

Interestingly, the Osage tribe, a Dhegihan-Siouan people that have one of the closest cultural similarities with the archaeological findings of Cahokia, have an origin story that draws many parallels (from Willard H. Rollings’ The Osage: An Ethnohistorical Study of Hegemony on the Prairie-Plains):

. . . in the beginning all of the Osage lived in a single village located along a river. One day the river flooded, and the Osage fled the rising waters. One group made it to the top of a hill, while others fled a nearby timbered ridge. A third group escaped to higher ground and sought shelter in a dense thicket, while a fourth group found refuge at the base of [a] hill just above the floodwaters. Some of the Osage, unable to escape, remained in the flooded village. After the floodwaters receded, the Non-hon-zhin-ga [council] insisted that the people remain in the groups they had formed during the flood. They claimed that Wa-kon-da [the Great Spirit/Mystery] wanted the people to live apart and to establish five villages . . .

After the flooding, Cahokia was still inhabited, but was a shadow of its former self. The people that lived there in the roughly 200 years until its final abandonment seem to have lived without a major elite class and used parts of Monks Mound as a garbage midden. Cahokia, once at the forefront of the Mississippian trade network, seems to have taken the long distance trade with it.

…but that’s not the end!

Mississippian culture was still alive and vibrant in the Lower Mississippi and Southeastern Woodlands (and the Middle Mississippi and Ohio River too, but the other places are more intense). However, times have changed. The lack of the Cahokian trade nexus has wrecked regional economies. Influence vacuums have formed and the world seems just a bit more dangerous. This is where history begins to rhyme a bit: there is an increase in fortification and town splitting, though not quite to the same degree. Towns are typically surrounded by a defensive wall and people move if the population gets too big, but complex hierarchies and earthworks are more active than ever. The political climate of the Southeast leads to the creation of vast open territories, with areas of dense wilderness serving to buffer the territories from large military campaigns (though light travel is still possible on trails). These territories, of course, had to be managed. And it’s during this era that we are finally able to know how the Mississippians governed themselves, at least in some parts, due to the accounts from Hernando de Soto’s entrada. In the Southeast among Muskogean (Creek) towns, the major town leader (potentially the paramount as well) was the mico/micco. Subordinate to the mico are the orata, which governed satellite towns. The iniha/heniha was an administrator served along the mico as a kind of magistrate and the yatika was the official translator. Each of these large territories was an italwa, and this word was also used to describe the largest towns ruled by micos, talofa being the smaller towns. The Caddo Mississippians in Texas and Oklahoma had the same structure, despite being on the other side of the Mississippian sphere.

Hernando de Soto’s route through areas that are known Mississippian polities. There are more archaeological sites than shown here which could possibly represent other polities.

Starting from Florida, Hernando de Soto and his entrada entered Mississippian civilization, starting with the Appalachee (to the south, off-screen of the map) and into the Mississippi River proper. There they found large capitals with their mounds and walls, and many towns had other features such as moats and levies. Some of these moats seem to have doubled as fish traps, according to de Soto’s secretary Rodrigo Ranjel who described Pacaha’s (probably the Nodena site in Arkansas) moat as ”full of excellent fish of divers kinds”.

The Parkin site in eastern Arkansas, one of the places visited by Hernando de Soto

You will often hear that from here, Hernando de Soto’s very existence caused 90% of the natives to keel over from European diseases. However, there is actually no evidence of such mass deaths, even in towns that had Spanish artifacts. To make matters even more interesting, De Soto and some other Spaniards actually fell ill and died on this journey, at a point in the journey longer than the incubation period of known European diseases, with the natives unaffected!

But the entrada still had a devastating effect on the political atmosphere. In his search for gold and the desire to continue such a journey, de Soto raided and burned towns, forcibly occupied capitals and even kidnapped paramount chiefs — people who were supposedly of heavenly descent, reduced to being bound and caged for ransom. He used his influence to alter Mississippian political relationships to his benefit and this wrecked the status quo. The paramountcies of Coosa and Cofitachequi no longer had the same kind of respect, influence and control over their territories as they once had. Political cohesion was now much more tenuous.

The entrada would not be able to walk away from the Eastern Woodlands so easily, however. Shortly before he died, de Soto tried to use his claim as son of the Sun to force the chiefdom of Quigualtam, the largest and most powerful polity of the lower Mississippi, to give them safe passage down the Mississippi…and some tribute for the road, of course. Quigualtam wasn’t buying it. After a failed overland route near Texas, De Soto’s entrada (now led by Luis de Moscoso) built some ships and tried to sail down the Mississippi as quick as humanly possible.

Quigualtam, of course, caught up with them. The small Spanish river fleet was met by Quigualtam’s fleet of nearly a hundred canoes, many of which held up to 70 people. These large canoes had awnings in the back housing the commanders; the awnings, paddles, weapons, and the boats themselves were all one color, with a different color for each boat. They sang and drummed in unison to pace their paddling; most of the songs could be summed up as “You Spaniards sure are in for it now!”. There was, naturally, a very loud scream at the end of each song.

Once the boats got close, teams of divers jumped off the boats and into the water to board the Spanish’s pinnace boats. Other paddlers stood up and began firing volleys. They managed to kill, wound and capture some people, but made the decision not to engulf them entirely — Quigualtam’s plan was not to annihilate the Spaniards, but to harass, exhaust and terrify them enough that they understood who had the real power in the Mississippi, and would tell all of their countrymen back home. Which of course succeeded: every time the Spanish thought they out-sailed Quigualtam, they would hear the shouting again and the terror would start back up.

Quigualtam’s cultural descendants are the Natchez, whose society remained strongly Mississippian well into the historic period, interacting diplomatically with the United States.

Despite this successful expulsion of the Spaniards, it was only the beginning of the end for the Mississippian way of life as a whole. European ships were conducting slave raids all around the North American coast, as well as propping up some natives to become slave raiders themselves, which only expanded ever inward. This led to an increase in warfare, famine and mass uncertainty that undermined the political structure of the Eastern Woodlands, leading to the breakup of most Mississippian polities. It was only when the stresses from raids and starvation was at its peak that the first epidemics begin to sweep through; these events had lowered the immune system of natives. The Native American slave trade continued well into the age of the British colonies and early U.S., where Savannah, Georgia was an important port for the export of Native slaves.

De Soto’s accounts were buried in the libraries of New Spain, records of English colonial interactions with remaining Mississippian polities fell into obscurity, and the survivors of the Mississippian breakup had long since adopted new, somewhat more egalitarian lifestyles. Many of the old Mississippian towns and cities were revisited again as abandoned mounds. Rather than believe they were built by the ‘savage’ Indians they were killing and enslaving, people came up with numerous myths of other more prestigious people who came to America before them, only to be killed off by the current inhabitants. The Aztecs. Hindus. Babylonians. The Lost 13th Tribe of Israel. The Welsh. Anyone but the indigenous people. Thomas Jefferson was one of the first, after archaeological digs of his own, to suggest that the mounds were in fact built by Native Americans.

But the myth had always persisted. In fact, some pseudo-scientific circles to this day still deny the origins of the mounds in favor of their preferred civilization. And the lack of respect Americans have had for the mounds is exhibited by their constant destruction throughout American history. Massive temple platforms were excavated so their clay could be used for road fill or embankments. Some were simply in the way of progress: right across the river from Cahokia was the remains of a smaller city which was nearly completely torn down to make room for St. Louis. Only one deeply eroded Sugarloaf Mound remains. Many Mississippian sites are still on private land, their artifacts routinely dug up by plows while their discoverers don’t think much of it.

This has been simply another front of a campaign as old as the United States itself to destroy and mask the history and culture of Native Americans, so as to put European-American history and culture at the forefront. Today, we are more sensitive to the real history before the United States, and also have the power and resources to protect and educate. But the damage inflicted over the centuries has been done, and we are still reeling from its effects. It will take a while before Americans really truly become aware of their country’s pre-European past and realize it’s something to be celebrated, not quietly ignored. Until then, we should try to educate and raise awareness as much as we can.

As you can see, the Mississippi River did indeed give birth to some quite complex societies. You might also be wondering: why didn’t all this complexity happen earlier? Or reach the political strength of other river valley civilizations?

Well, first off I don’t think you can ever get a detailed answer to that. Many people like to fall on geography as the sole determiner of human society, but humans, as we all know, are complicated and do not like to follow the rules. Nevertheless, while the fertility of the Mississippi watershed can’t be overstated, the region is also perhaps a bit…too fertile. Most other river valley civilizations are in relatively dry areas, with a narrow stretch of fertile floodplain that forces most people to huddle together and submit to a central managing authority. In the Mississippi, you can have great farmland by the river, but you can also go deeper into the many, mazelike tributary rivers into the woods and have almost just as productive a crop. This is harder to keep under control, which narrows the focus of elites for the most part. However, ancient China had much the same layout: a large swath of fertile land under a complex watershed of not one but twogiant rivers. Horses, not available to the Mississippians, may have also played a part in such a difference. Or perhaps simply not enough time has passed since the Eastern Woodland’s adoption of agriculture in 1800 BC and the introduction of more efficient crops in 900 AD. If you’re asking me, a historical particularist, I believe that the fate of human societies can ultimately fall on the decisions made by their communities. The ideologies that led to the creation of sprawling, intensely bureaucratic states simply did not come to fruition in the same way they did in China or Mesopotamia. Maybe that was influenced by the factors I mentioned, or the values were simply different.

Yet a civilization it definitely was, with its own sophisticated cultures, politics, and artistic expression. Like many civilizations, it had its own peaks and dips, and with every dip rose a peak that was stronger than ever before. The collapse of the trade networks after 1400 was a dip the Mississippians had just begun to recover from. Considering the interruption of Mississippian history with the arrival of the Spanish, one has to wonder: what kind of peak might we have seen next?

Further Reading:

Mysteries of the Hopewell: Astronomers, Geometers, and Magicians of the Eastern Woodlands by William F. Romain

Ancient Cahokia and the Mississippians by Timothy R. Pauketat

Medieval Mississippians: The Cahokian World by Timothy R. Pauketat and Susan M. Alt

Mapping the Mississippian Shatter Zone: The Colonial Indian Slave Trade and Regional Instability in the American South by Robbie Ethridge and Sheri M. Shuck-Hall - goes into the political instability caused by European activity that led to the collapse of many Mississippian polities

Epidemics and Enslavement: Biological Catastrophe in the Native Southeast, 1492-1715 by Paul Kelton - also discusses the shatter zone, but builds upon it by touching on the biological aspect. Particularly, it addresses the myth of the spread of European disease in the EW: rather than the wildfire-like instantaneous transmission many imagine, the worst of the epidemics only came about when the immune systems of the natives were weakened through stresses.

The Forgotten Centuries: Indians and Europeans in the American South, 1521-1704 by Carmen Tesser and Charles Hudson - very aptly named; in-depth exposition of the often overlooked protohistoric period, inbetween the jurisdictions of archaeologists and historians.

Amazon.com: Knights of Spain, Warriors of the Sun: Hernando de Soto and the South's Ancient Chiefdoms by Charles Hudson and Robbie Ethridge - Contains actual primary sources of de Soto’s journey, augmented and illuminated by the interpretations of modern historical and archaeological data.

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xtruss · 3 years

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Jewish Americans are at a Turning Point With an “Illegal Regime of Zionist Cunts: Isra-Hell”

I felt alone as a Jew attending a Palestine solidarity rally in 2014. I don’t feel alone any more

— Arielle Angel | Guardian USA | May 22, 2021

On Nakba Day, 15 May, amid the outbreak of war in Israel/Palestine, I attended a rally in Bay Ridge in Brooklyn, to commemorate the expulsion of more than 700,000 Palestinians from the new Israeli state in 1948, and to protest against the oppression of the Palestinian people in the land between the river and the sea. From the signs I saw as part of that crowd – “This Jew will not stand by” or “Another Jew for a Free Palestine” – and from monitoring my social media feeds, it was clear that there were thousands of Jews taking part in these protests in cities all over the country.

For me, the conspicuous presence of larger numbers of Jews – many, but not all of them young – at every major Nakba Day protest was significant. During the 2014 assault on Gaza, I ventured out to a Palestine solidarity rally in Columbus Circle in Manhattan by myself. An ardent Zionist until that point, my worldview had been profoundly shaken by the images in the papers – Palestinian children bombed to pieces on a beach; Israelis in the rattled buffer town of Sderot gathered on hilltops overlooking the Strip, cheering as the bombs fell.

I didn’t know a single person that might accompany me to such a protest. To go at all felt like a betrayal of everything I’d ever known and loved. And yet even stronger was my anguish at doing nothing. I felt alienated by the march itself, unprepared to face the righteous anger at the Israeli state from the perspective of its victims. My heart raced when chants broke out of “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” – a popular protest slogan calling for equality in a single democratic state, which Jews have long been told amounts to their expulsion. I stayed another 30 minutes, then ducked into Central Park, collapsing on a bench in sobs. I’d never felt more alone.

I don’t feel alone any more. Though the years since 2014 have seen the growth of a small but committed Jewish anti-occupation movement, the last week and a half have brought an even larger circle of the community to a place of reckoning. We’ve seen Jewish politicians, celebrities, rabbinical students and others speak up loudly for Palestine. We’ve seen a powerful display of solidarity from Jewish Google employees, asking their company to sever ties with the IDF. At Jewish Currents, the leftwing magazine where I am now editor-in-chief, we asked for questions from readers struggling to understand the recent violence. We’ve been deluged.

These questions taken in aggregate paint a striking portrait of a community at a turning point. Though many queries aim to understand specific aspects of the recent round of violence – the circumstances surrounding the expulsions of Palestinians from their homes in Sheikh Jarrah, for instance, or the affiliations of the Jewish revelers dancing ecstatically opposite a fire on the Temple Mount – many more are simply expressions of confusion, and a newfound willingness to confront it head on.

“These questions taken in aggregate paint a striking portrait of a community at a turning point”

“I know what’s happening is wrong, but does supporting Palestinian liberation mean supporting Hamas?” asks one reader. “How do I talk to my family about this?” asks another. There are people struggling with new terminology (“Is apartheid an accurate word for what is happening in Israel/Palestine? What about ethnic cleansing?”) and with the foundational events that shaped the current situation on the ground (“Was there really an expulsion of Palestinians in 1948?”). Though many of our Jewish readers are anxious about antisemitism and about Jewish safety in Israel, there are strong indications that they are beginning to separate these feelings from the moral reality on the ground. On the whole, their questions represent a genuine outpouring of curiosity and compassion about the plight of Palestinians.

What has changed? The Black Lives Matter movement can claim credit for helping masses of people understand the mechanisms of structural racism and oppression, and for consistently linking the Black struggle to the Palestinian one. White people, including white Jews, who spent last summer confronting their own complicity in anti-Blackness or their discomfort with the force of abolitionist demands like “defund the police”, are perhaps finding themselves prepared to face similar complicities and discomforts in relation to Palestinian liberation. Jewish groups in solidarity with Palestine like Jewish Voice for Peace and IfNotNow in the United States and Na’amod in the UK, some of which were formed following the 2014 assault on Gaza, have steadily moved the intra-communal conversation around Israel/Palestine, creating more space for Jews to speak their conscience without having to abandon their identities. These groups all enjoyed periods of growth during the Trump-era, when Donald Trump’s close relationship with the Israeli prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, heightened the contradictions for a largely liberal Jewish populace. Young Jews becoming politically conscious for the first time saw a powerful, rightwing Israel intent on entrenching a decades-long occupation – a story that contrasted sharply with the one many of their elders had told them.

It remains to be seen whether this new visibility of Jewish dissenters on Israel/Palestine will have a meaningful effect on conditions on the ground. Many Jewish communal institutions rely on mega-donors to keep the lights on, and many of those mega-donors are conservative – meaning that our institutions are not particularly responsive to constituent pressure. For another, much of the American support for Israel comes from evangelical Christian Zionists, who, despite stirrings of dissent in their own communities, remain wedded to an apocalyptic Second Coming predicated on a warlike Jewish state. In Israel/Palestine itself, the single most important factor in Palestinian liberation is unified Palestinian resistance, which has taken inspiring new forms this week.

But there’s no question that Jewish support for the status quo in Israel/Palestine provides a powerful justification for Israeli government support globally. More Jews speaking up against Israeli apartheid weakens that justification, leaving politicians, lobbyists and others to account for what their support is really about.

On Thursday, a ceasefire took hold between the Israeli government and Hamas, ending an 11-day engagement that has left 12 Israelis and 232 Palestinians dead. The announcement was a genuine relief, but it does not change the reality in Israel/Palestine, where Palestinians across the land live under various forms of Israeli subjugation – the crushing blockade in Gaza; the military occupation in the West Bank; and second-class status in East Jerusalem and within the Green Line. Just as 2014 produced new infrastructure in the Jewish community to encourage dissent, I am certain that this moment will prove pivotal in a changing Jewish American conversation about Israel/Palestine.

— Arielle Angel is the editor-in-chief of Jewish Currents

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autolovecraft · 6 years

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Kuranes was now to be appointed its chief god for evermore.

He had indeed come back to the great oaks of the small houses hid sleep or death. Then Kuranes walked through the half-formed thoughts, and increased his doses of drugs; but as the knightly entourage plunged over the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations. Then one summer day he was not snatched away, and he had found him, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the world fell abruptly into the sky ahead was empty and unlit by the city Celephaïs, and a snowcapped mountain near the village. There he stayed long, gazing out over the bubbling Naraxa on the leaders, and like a winged being settled gradually over a bridge to a part of space was outside what he had hoped to die.

Here the galley paused not at all, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence. When truth and experience failed to reveal a greater brightness, the merchants and camel-drivers greeted him as if he had been drawn down a lane that led off from the world about him, waked him, and cast it upon the village street toward the channel cliffs, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel cliffs, and Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the city Celephaïs, in the blue of the west and hid all the eternity of an hour one summer afternoon very long ago. Kuranes wished to sail in a galley in the sunshine which seemed never to lessen or disappear.

So numerous were they, that Kuranes sought for beauty alone. He dared not disobey the summons for fear it might prove an illusion like the urges and aspirations of waking life, which is built on that ethereal coast where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai, but preferred to dream and write of his dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been partly dreamed dreams, on which account he was equally resentful of awaking, for just as he watched anxiously as the riders went on they seemed to gallop back through time; for when awake he was aroused he had been. All was as of old, nor were the marble walls discolored, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished.

Then the two rowed to a tower window overlooking a mighty plain and river lit by the full moon; and then we know that we have looked back through time; for whenever they passed through a village in the valley, glistening radiantly far, far below, with a background of sea and sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once sent him to many gorgeous and unheard-of places, no one whom he showed it, he sought again the captain who had created Ooth-Nargai in his dreams, and he sought again the captain who had agreed to carry him so long ago. Just as they galloped up the rising ground to the far places of which he had been. So Kuranes sought for beauty alone. Kuranes awakened in his childhood, and gravitation exist. Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the precipice and into the billowy Cerenarian Sea that leads to the oarmen, commenced to sail in a prehistoric stone monastery in the darkness before him might have seen it, he dreamed first of the city, and of the harbor of Serannian, the more wonderful became his dreams.

Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the bright harbor where the sea meets the sky. So numerous were they, that he need not tremble lest the things he knew be vanished; for he was not modern, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out into the billowy Cerenarian Sea that leads to the precipice and the abyss of dreams. But he remembered it again when he had floated down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, on which account he was the same, and giving orders to the end of it could be seen. In time he kept his writings to himself, and the death lying upon that land, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his conquests to find the vengeance of the abyss where all the village. Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and would have questioned the people about him, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence.

Then Kuranes walked through the downs of Surrey and onward toward the channel tides played mockingly with the body of a tramp who had created Ooth-Nargai and all the landscape in effulgent draperies. Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the turquoise temple of Nath-Horthath, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility. There are not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the wildest part of space where form does not exist, but as the highest of the west and hid all the eternity of an hour one summer day he was aroused he had found his fabulous city after forty weary years. So numerous were they, that he for a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight. And Kuranes saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been partly dreamed dreams, on which account he was now very anxious to return to minaret-studded Celephaïs, and alone among the indifferent millions of London, so that after a time he was aroused he had stolen out into the fragrant summer night, and he beheld the city, past the great stone bridge by the city, past the bronze gates and over the bubbling Naraxa on the turf. The abyss was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and he met the cortège of knights come from Celephaïs to bear him thither forever. But three nights afterward Kuranes came very suddenly upon his old world of childhood tales and dreams.

Kuranes awakened in his dreams.

But some of us awake in the valley, and gravitation exist. Then Kuranes walked through the ivory gates into that world of wonder which was ours before we were wise and unhappy. Then he had been dreaming of the abyss where all the worlds. And Kuranes saw the city, and he met could tell him how to find Ooth-Nargai and all the eternity of an hour one summer day he was called by another name. He reigns there still, and the sea meets the sky.

#H.P. Lovecraft #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains #1922 #1920 #Celephaïs #Celephaïs week

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fred-harrell · 6 years

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A Sermon on John 2 - Water to Wine

I re-read The Brothers Karamozov last summer. On my Kindle. It can be done. I read the translation by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky. The first time I could hardly get through it years ago. This time was seemingly easy. Because I read Pevear’s excellent introduction to the book. The context in which Dostoevsky wrote it, the style, the way in which names are used, the characters, etc. The book came alive. I devoured it.

In this book, the gospel of John, we have a similar opportunity. John tells us the purpose of his book at the end of John, in chapter 20:30-31:

“Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. 31 But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” Noice.

Signs: something unique to John. There are 7 of them..doesn’t call them miracles but signs. Signs point. You don’t see a sign that says “San Francisco, 30 miles” and say, ‘well it’s good to be in the City by the Bay!’ Although I learned when I moved here that people in Livermore, for instance, tell their friends that they lived in the ‘San Francisco area”. Sorry Livermore. You live in Livermore! But I digress into my San Francisco snobbiness.

The point John is making is to have you asking this question when you see these ‘signs’: What do they tell you about Jesus and the Reign of God he brings. And John do so artistically and intentionally.

So… when John says, “On the third day…” this is both practical and theological. Practical, because the 3rd day is Tuesday, and this IS the day (sort of like our Saturday) when people in Ancient and Present day Israel get married! This is also theological. The 3rd day in the creation story of Genesis is a day where God blesses and calls it good 2 times. A doubly blessed day. Something else happened on the 3rd day as well… the resurrection of Jesus. John wants you to connect this ‘sign’ with the resurrection of Jesus.

So let’s talk about the wedding. First, it’s in Cana. About 9 or so miles northwest of Nazareth. Jesus was invited because simply Jesus was known. Which is it’s own lesson if we’ll see it. Jesus shows up where he is invited. Invite him into your mess, marriage, life, business, party...whatever. He tends to show if invited. Disciples were also invited. 6 attend… Nathaneal who just a day earlier had joined them, and was told he would see amazing things. Isn’t that the truth. Jewish weddings were a feast that would last for days. Vows, ceremony, bride and groom disappear to consummate the marriage… and the feast begins!

I’ve done, I don’t know, 250 weddings? More or less? It’s close. Nothing like it. Brings out the absolute best and (sometimes) the absolute worst in people! For some, it’s a high stakes game of saving face. There is usually, not always, a powder keg person who is obsessed with every detail going perfectly. But life happens. At outdoor weddings, I’ve seen flash torrential downpours where everyone had to just sit in the rain in a field. I’ve seen ring bearer meltdowns of epic proportions. And fainting. LOTS of fainting.

The wine however has never run out. But it does here. In a culture where wine is seen as ‘the joy of the feast’ this is a horrific reality for the hosts of this wedding. Shame will come to the family. This is a social catastrophe, a catering disaster.

And here’s where the fun begins. In this first ‘sign’.

So first, a lesson from the mother of Jesus. (Seen here, and not again in John’s gospel until chapter 19 when Jesus is hanging on a cross.)

The first exchange here goes like this:

Mother: “They have no wine.” Jesus: “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.”

So on one hand, Jesus’ ‘hour’ which in John always means his crucifixion and death, hasn’t come, it’s not time for this kind of miracle yet. Fair enough.

On the other hand… does this strike you as scandalous? The scandal of ‘divine reluctance’ as Princeton theologian Carol Lakey Hess puts it? If Jesus is God, why is God holding out? And of course, that leads to further questions. In a world where there is no clean water, much less wine, where is the extravagance of God? As Hess puts it, “In a world where children play in bomb craters the size of thirty-gallon wine jugs, why the divine reluctance? In a world where desperate mothers must say to their small children, “We have no food,” why has the hour not yet come? No matter how we rationalize divine activity, we still want to tug at Jesus’ sleeve and say: “they have no wine.”

In a world of need, does God continue to have what seems like an attitude of “what is that to me?” I want to suggest that the provision of wine here, which is always portrayed in the prophets as a symbol of God’s grace, generosity, and abundance, should nudge us to say the very same thing to God if our prayers are honest. “They have no wine. They have no food. They have no home. They have no security. They have no country. They have no money. They have no citizenship…”

Fitting for MLK day tomorrow. We are called to be like Mary, voicing the concerns of the people with confidence that God will make it right. And in particular that God would provide enough! And we must do what is in our power to make it so. And you must insist on it! You must march for it! (See you next Saturday at City Hall). We must be what MLK called “The Beloved Community”.

From a Commentary I read this week:

Martin Luther King Jr. often spoke of his vision of a “Beloved Community.” For King, the Beloved Community is “...a realistic, achievable goal . . . [it] is a global vision, in which all people can share in the wealth of the earth.”* King grounded his vision in the belief that “...it was God’s intention that everyone should have the physical and spiritual necessities of life. He could not envision the Beloved Community apart from the alleviation of economic inequity and the achievement of economic justice.”** For King, members of what he called “The Beloved Community” would know how to equitably share God’s abundance and, with a delight that mirrors God’s own, they would stop at nothing to do so. Members would know the reality proclaimed in the Psalm: “O LORD. ...All people*** feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights” (emphasis added). For the sake of the Beloved Community, its prophets would “not keep silent” and “will not rest” (Isa. 62:1) in the face of a status quo that was content with unjust hoarding of God’s abundant gifts of life. The Beloved Community’s prophets, like King, would name this hoarding of God’s abundant gifts of life in all of its malignant forms: segregation (one race hoarding the physical and spiritual necessities of life from another), violence (one powerful entity forcefully denying the Imago Dei – the image of God – within another), economic injustice (“the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society”****), and countless others.

The prophet, God’s mouthpiece, would settle for neither soul-crushing captivity nor soul-numbing complacency from the rebuilding community. This renewed, beloved community – God’s “bride” – would be so much more: the opposite of a “forsaken” and “desolate” community, it would be a community that radiantly reflected God’s own abundance.

Mary nudges Jesus based on what she knows of God’s intentions for this world, that everyone has enough. She lives out of a theology of abundance, not scarcity. Mary is not content with the status quo, nor should we ever be. We must live with a vision for living into God’s intended future right now. Why do we risk greatly as a community? Why do we make room for everyone? Why do we start City Hope Community Center in the Tenderloin, Counseling Center? Why do we entrepreneur new ministries? Because God’s intended future is for everyone to have enough, to be known and loved, to know God loves everyone extravagantly, and that we are designed to be conduits of that love and mercy to the world around us. Mary. Nevertheless, she persisted.

Secondly, a lesson from the water pots.

John 2: 5 His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” 6 Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. 7 Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water.”

These water pots had a purpose, “Jewish rites of purification”. It was for filling up the mikvahs. These were stone pools with steps that led down into them, and several times a week the observant Jew would go down into the water that was blessed by the Rabbis and repeat the prayer and dunk themselves 7 times so they could be ceremoniously pure. Filling up the mikvahs was a lot of work… 6 pots would hold some 150 gallons of water.

After filling them, Jesus tells the servants to draw some out and take it to the chief steward. Turns out Jesus makes good wine yall.

But they nor anyone else yet could know the massive shift going on with Jesus choosing the ritual water pots as the vehicles through which he would give us this first sign. It’s more than a miracle of water to wine. Though, that in itself is not to be overlooked. Sometimes the church has forgotten Jesus once attended a wedding feast and said yes to gladness and joy, revealing to us a God who loves to hear the laughter of people celebrating people and to see our job as toasting the world with the amazing good news of grace.

What else do the water pots teach us? There is about to be a huge shift in how we understand our relationship with God. Instead of always washing and never really feeling clean… now the reign of God is going to be like eating and drinking with close friends with nothing to prove...because you know you belong. You know you are welcome. To be involved with God will not be like always bathing and never clean. It’s going to be like eating and drinking with friends with nothing to prove...sitting at table with your best friends. From obsession with purity rites to shared table delight.

Jesus doesn’t ask you if you are you clean enough, holy enough, pure enough, kosher enough? He simply asks “will you come to the table and feast? Will you know that you are welcomed here, loved here, invited here… and come just as you are!”

Next week Pastor Julie will be preaching on what John places next in his gospel. It’s something from the end of Jesus ministry, because John is not concerned with chronology, but theology.

Jesus will protest the temple in Jerusalem, with all of its ritual sacrifice, purity codes, and carefully guarded borders with Temple Police telling everyone where their place is… “women over here… Gentiles? You are in parking lot double Z WAY over there!

Jesus is announcing with the water pots and the temple cleansing: We will now do the God thing family style. Everybody… men, women, gentiles, sex workers, good people, bad people, tax collectors, everybody! Come sit at the table! It's the difference between performing purity rites under the judgmental gaze of religious gatekeepers… and sitting at a table with nothing to prove and enjoying a meal together. Where you don’t have to be someone you are not, where you bring your whole self to the meal, pull up a chair, sit down, and eat with friends. Jesus says “THAT’S what the Reign of God is like!”

Our welcome statement: “As a community of Jesus followers, we welcome all persons, regardless of gender, race, ethnicity, age, physical or mental capacity, education, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression, and socioeconomic or marital status” - we are not trying to be au courant… we are trying to set a table the way Jesus would set it! Will you come to the table Jesus sets? Will you believe the good news is this good? However you have seen or understood God up to this point in your life, let this ‘sign’ begin to adjust the narrative in your head about God. God is like Jesus. Who makes hundreds of gallons of apparently great wine for a party… who when the joy runs out, and it always does, provides the joy of the feast.

Third, a lesson from the servants. I do love verse 9 so much. The chief steward is amazed and clueless as to where this wine came from. And then, “though the servants who had drawn the water knew”. The servants always know. The little people. The forgotten. The struggling. The worker. The ones who make it all happen. The ones who work in hotels, restaurants, and a thousand other places that no one else wants. The ones this country is supposed to be famous for welcoming.

As they did my own mother in law who worked the night shift at glass bottling plant after coming here as a Cuban refugee. Who had (and still has) to bite her tongue many times as the powerful and wealthy and mostly white people around her see dimly through their privilege, as she sees so clearly through her position of lowliness. The servants knew. They always know. The wisdom from the bottom is always overlooked.

But something else here I want you to notice. How Jesus did this miracle. Not by making a grand show. “Step right up and watch what I’ll do for you!” Or just dipping his hand in the water to make it wine. Making sure he made a show of it. None of that. Jesus “said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward.” So they took it.” So. They. Took. It. They did what Jesus told them to do. They became the vessels through which God’s abundance flows. They get to know who did this before anyone else does. As Lesslie Newbigin writes, “Only the servants who obeyed the strange command get to know the secret, they and Jesus’ disciples. Those who have put themselves under Jesus’ orders know the secret.”

So here are our marching orders for 2018. I get to say that throughout January.

From Mary - learn to cry out on behalf of people in need with confidence God will make it right. And so we must cry out together. We must use any power and privilege we have to give voice to those who don’t have enough. We must live into God’s intended future now and insist with our lives, our pocketbooks, and our prayers, that in a world of plenty, there is no reason for anyone to go without.

From the Water Pots - learn that God is about inviting everyone to the table and give yourselves to making that welcome a reality here. Jesus today invites you into this new reality where through his death and resurrection he begins a new creation in the midst of the old where we can finally know we are loved, where the wine never runs out, where the joy of the feast is found in union with God. Who will on another day take wine, and say “ this is my blood, which is poured out for you for the forgiveness of sins” and lay down his life of his own accord for you and this world, so that instead of spending our lives desperately and anxiously trying to meet God’s approval, we might know and live now under the loving gaze of God who simply invites us, each day, to sit at the table and feast.

From the Servants - learn that you are designed and called by God to be vessels of God’s abundance in this world and it starts with simple obedience to the way of Jesus.

“So they took it” it says of the servants- what does that mean for you today? Get serious about answering your questions as you explore faith? Step out and begin to trust Jesus with your life? Follow Jesus with your life choices? An exhausted world needs the wine of God’s joy. Let’s spread the word that God, who is perfectly revealed in Jesus, is the kind of God that makes sure the party continues, because God is doing a beautiful thing in the world. And God aims to do this beautiful thing through you. Through us.

Let’s together toast the world with the good news of God’s abundant grace.

Amen.

#sermon #john2 #watertowine

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