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bird-inacage · 1 year

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I’ve noticed an influx of newcomers to the LITA fandom of late and firstly - welcome! I never did do a wrap-up review when the series ended (probably neck deep in hysteria then) so I figured why not write one now. I will keep this brief, as I have a tendency to get carried away with my analysis on this show. You can peruse my index of deep dives for more if you wish. I will largely be referencing the Love Sky portion of this series because... well, my blog says it all really.

LITA is a story of two halves; the first 1-7 episodes focus on Rain's arc, whilst the proceeding 8-13 episodes focus on Sky's. Most BLs tend to have an interlacing structure that weaves multiple couples simultaneously. But LITA has done this to allow for chronological story-telling and doubles up well as a framing device. Rain's arc is more 'slice of life', humorous and light-hearted overall. Whereas Sky's arc is weighty and pensive, involving more serious themes, highs and lows. There is a distinct tonal shift between these two halves that feel like different movements within the same symphony.

As an adaptation of MAME's original novels, 6-7 episodes is a tight window to do each couple justice. This just about works for Rain’s arc over Sky’s, the latter of which definitely needed more run time, and feels awfully rushed at its crucial conclusion. Otherwise the narrative and romantic development progresses at a pretty steady pace.

Difficult topics around trauma and abuse are approached with sensitivity whilst still packing a gut punch. Thankfully this isn’t used as a gimmick but serves as an integral thread in Sky’s characterisation, and is consistently signposted throughout. What I really appreciate is how both couples overcome obstacles in a healthy way and learn to communicate. Our characters are able to learn and grow from conflict, and ultimately move forward in a positive direction.

Main Leads: Why this pairing really works for me is that I enjoy them as individual characters as well as together. A couple is only as strong as the sum of its parts - and for me to buy into a partnership, I need to be firstly convinced that these two people exist outside of just their relationship. Prapai and Sky are well balanced in that respect as they have clearly established identities of their own. This pair also had the added advantage of being introduced in Rain’s arc which really helped lay some ground work. Sky is a character most will easily love; perceptive, reliable and devoted, his insecurities are hugely relatable to anyone who has struggled with self worth. Whereas Prapai may divide audiences at first with his seemingly misplaced charm and (dorky) rich playboy aura, where a multitude of hidden depths are later revealed. You’ll come to adore this man in a similar fashion to how Sky is won over, seeing beyond his flirty teasing to the caring, patient and loving man underneath.

Pairing Rating: [SWEET + SENSUAL] This pair deliver on both soft comfort/domesticity as well as highly-charged intensity, a combination that will make your heart ache and break.

Other: This series very much centres its efforts around the leads. Relationship dynamics outside of our main couples tend to be overlooked and are increasingly forfeited towards the end (most namely Sky and Rain’s friendship which had a great kick-off in Rain’s half but was almost non-existent in Sky’s), likely due to time constraints.

Acting Performance: Relative newcomers Fort and Peat do a stellar job of making their characters feel fully realised and believable in such a short span of episodes. Both actors share uncanny similarities with the roles they are playing, which must have helped and is proof of great casting. I’m also hugely impressed that they were able to work against the reverse age dynamic they share in real life (Peat is 26, Fort is 22). Due to the heavier undertones in Sky’s storyline, this script really allows both actors to showcase a wider range of their acting abilities. Fort is a revelation, providing a very grounded and surprisingly mature performance. Peat does a wonderfully committed job of throwing himself into such a challenging role with enormous vulnerability. I give props to any actor who is willing to ugly cry and I mean ugly cry.

Visuals: Arguably one of the strongest characteristics of the show is it’s pleasing aesthetic that feels bright, clean, and really rather beautiful in certain scenes, particularly when it comes to the use of lighting, colour and camera angles. It’s very easy on the eye and elevates the charm of the everyday as its setting. Imagery is also utilised well when portraying Sky’s trauma.

Sound: The common gripe with LITA is the inconsistent quality of audio. Oh my, the audio. In some places the sound is insanely crisp and loud (think ASMR levels of breathing and shirts crinkling), and yet in others, dialogue is tenuous due to music, ambience or just dodgy recording in the first place.

>>>

FINAL THOUGHTS: It’s the couples that will lure in your heart and hold it captive. Despite the fairly simple trajectory of the storyline, the series is engaging with decent rewatch value. It would have benefited from a longer run. My blog is testament to how much I adore them - having written over a dozen metas on their relationship alone (but hey, I may be slightly biased). I wildly underestimated what this show was going to deliver when the trailer first came out, and my expectations were largely surpassed on all fronts.

(Disclaimer: These are just my own opinions. It goes without saying that one still can enjoy a show for all its successes as well as recognising its shortcomings.)

#LITA #love in the air #love in the air series #bird-inacage reviews #LITA review #prapaisky #paisky #fortpeat #fort thitipong #peat wasuthorn #thai bl

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autodidact-adventures · 5 years

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English History (Part 5): Iron Age

Iron Age (c. 800 – 43 AD)

From the beginning of the Iron Age, relations between the land and people were governed by an advanced concept of territoriality. This concept of territoriality had gained strength over the millennia – leaders & tribes were already firmly associated with specific regions, which can be seen in the boundaries and locations of settlements.

But this all intensified greatly during the Iron Age, and iron played a huge part in it. Gradually, new trade networks and forms of alliance were established. Ritual and ceremonial objects were made out of iron. The iron trade contributed to the eventual shape of England, as the various regions were becoming more intensely organized and controlled.

The hierarchical structure of societies also intensified. There were chieftains and sub-chieftains; warriors and priests; farmers and craftsmen; workers and slaves. Slave irons have been found near St. Albans (Hertfordshire), and a gang chain on Anglesey (an island off the north-west coast of Wales).

Meanwhile, funerary practices for the elite were becoming extremely elaborate. Iron Age chieftains were buried surrounded by molten silver, gold cloth, ivory, iron chainmail suits, and precious cups & bowls. One mortuary chamber was found to have trampled earth around its base, which suggests that people danced there.

Elite women's graves contained many ornaments, including mirrors, brooches and bangles, bowls, beads and tweezers. On woman was buried with a large bronze bowl placed over her face.

The Oxfordshire Mirror, from the 00s BC.

Because of the increased sense of territoriality, regional identities were strong. This can be seen in the types of settlements in various regions of England:

Eastern England – undefended settlements (similar to villages) among open fields.

South-western England – small communities in defended homesteads, and unenclosed settlements at a distance. This was likely a division between the tribal leaders and the ordinary people.

North-eastern England – defended homesteads.

North-western England – round houses known as “beehive huts”.

Wessex Culture (Salisbury Plain) – a pattern of large territorial groupings based around hill forts.

There are variations upon these themes, such as the pit dwellings carved out of the chalk in Hampshire (a county on the southern coast); and the lake villages of Somerset (south-western England), with round huts built upon floating islands of logs.

The hill forts of Wessex show that this society was strongly hierarchical. They probably originated in the Cotswolds (south-central & south-western England), and then spread over the whole of south-central England. They were a symbol of elite ownership, as they demonstrated the mastery of land and resources.

The territory controlled by each fort was often marked out by linear earthworks that served as boundaries. The forts became more heavily-defended over the Iron Age, and some of them were occupied for centuries.

These hill forts served as towns, not just forts. They had clusters of building and streets, temples and storage facilities, and “zones” for separate industrial activities. The circular houses were made of upright posts, woven together with wattle and sticks of hazel. Their doors & porches faced east. The roofss were usually thatched with reeds or straw, which was held in place with a daub of dung, clay & straw. Soot from the peat fires was a valuable manure, so the dung mixture (and thatch?) was probably replaced each year. The people had small cupboards inside their houses to store weapons in.

The populations of these hill forts were small, from 20 to 200, but they were the beginning of urban English life. It is possible that London was once a hill fort, with its origins buried beneath the modern town.

British Camp, an Iron Age hill fort in Hertfordshire.

The many small tribes of this period lived in a state of constant alert against their rivals. There were cattle raids, conflicts between warriors, and even large-scale wars. Some hill forts were stormed and burned; bodies have been found in the ramparts, with their bones marked & hacked.

In this sort of a culture, heroic songs & tales would have been sung & told to celebrate the deeds of individual warriors and/or leaders. Early Irish epics have such tales, perhaps containing stories & refrains from the prehistoric Irish tribes. A comparison with the Iliad can be made.

These tribes & regional groupings did have network alliances and kinship ties, however. Many smaller clans were eventually integrated, and became larger territorial units (perhaps because of danger). These were the English tribes whom the Romans would confront later.

By the end of the Iron Age, some hill forts had become dominant, and took on the role of regional capitals. The population increased steadily, and so agriculture became even more intensive. People continued to clear woodland and forest. The thick clay soils were worked with heavy wheeled ploughs. This was the foundation for the agricultural economy of England. They grew wheat in Somerset and barley in Wiltshire, and they still do today.

In 325 BC, the Greek merchant & explorer Pytheas landed on England's shores. He named the island as Prettanike or Brettaniai, hence why we have the name “Britain” today. He gave the land of the Picts the diminutive name Pryden. He visited Cornwall, and watched people there work and purify the ore.

Pytheas wrote about the people worshipping various Greek gods, but he was simply projecting the Greek names onto the native Celtic gods. The Greeks saw all foreign gods in their own terms.

He wrote of seeing “a wonderful sacred precinct of Apollo and a celebrated temple festooned with many offerings”. This temple was “spherical in shape”. Close by there was a city “sacred to this god” who kings were called “Boreades” [the Greek god of the cold north wind].

Iron Age art (often called Celtic art) was very intricate, with a mastery of artificial form and linearity. It uses spirals and swastikas, curves and circles. Its patterns are related to the whorls, spirals & concentric circles carved upon Mesolithic passage graves several millennia earlier. This suggests a continuity of belief and worship.

The Battersea Shield (c. 350 - 50 BC), a decorative shield facing.

The religion of England was Druidism. There were certain sacred places, including caves and sacred groves. Druids congregated in these sacred groves, with ancient trees creating the setting for ritual practice.

In a barrow in Yorkshire, dating back to the early Bronze Age, drum-shaped idols made of chalk have been found. They have what seem to be human eyes & noses. 2,000 years later, the British writer Gildas (c. 500 – 570 AD) wrote of these “diabolical idols...of which we still see some mouldering away within or without the deserted temples, with the customary stiff and deformed features.” This shows that there was a long tradition of worship that may have had its roots in the Neolithic Period.

The image of the horned god Cernunnons has been found at Cirencester (Gloucestershire), and images of the horse goddess Epona in Wiltshire and Essex. In East Stoke (Nottinghamshire), a carving of the hammer god Sucellus has been found. The mysterious god Lud (or Nud) has his name in Ludgate Hill & Ludgate Circus (London).

There were religious sanctuaries all over the land, and even the smallest settlements probably had their own central shrines. They have been found in hill forts, within ditched enclosures, along boundaries, and above barrow graves. Often, Roman temples or early Christian churches were built atop them.

During the Iron Age, it was believed that the rooster served as a defence against thunderstorms. This is why we have weathercocks on church steeples.

Human sacrifice was practised, probably in order to sanctify the land. One man was bludgeoned to death and had his throat cut before being deposited in the marsh in Cheshire (north-western England). In southern England, many skeletons have been found in the bottom of bits, flexed into unnatural positions.

Severed heads, probably believed to be the site of the soul/spirit, were also important. Skulls have been found lined up in a row. Often the bodies of defeated enemies were beheaded, and their heads either buried or placed in running water. 300 skulls have been found in the Thames, dating from the Neolithic Period to the Iron Age.

According to Caesar, the Druids (high priests) created images of wicker-work, which they “fill with living men and, setting them on fire, the men are destroyed by the flames.” The Druid priests were the lawmakers of the land – they determined rewards & punishments; and settled disputes over boundaries & property.

Pliny wrote that the Druids “esteem nothing more sacred than the mistletoe”. The high priests “select groves of oak, and use the leaves of the mistletoe in all sacred rites.” They tied the sacrificial victim to an oak tree, and the killers wore chaplets (garlands/circlets worn on the head) made of oak leaves.

The Druids practised divination, astrology and magic. They believed that the soul was immortal, and was reincarnated. The Roman writers considered this belief to make clear the native English contempt for death.

The Druids worshipped the sun and moon, and this solar belief persisted even after their demise. In 1452, a butcher from Standon (Hertfordshire) was accused of proclaiming that there was no god except for the sun and moon. The Druids' power was retained by the Anglo-Saxon bishops, and the tonsures of early Christian monks may also have originated with the Druids. Thomas Hardy, in Tess of the d'Ubervilles, notes that “old customs” last longer on clay soils.

By 100 BC, there were 15 large tribes in England, and they were coming under the control of leaders who were now being called kings. In the years before the main Roman invasion, Suetonius named Cunobelis (leader of the Catuvellauni) as “rex Britannorum”. Cunobelis' capital was St. Albans (Hertfordshire, southern England), and he controlled a large area north of the Thames, including Cambridgeshire, Bedfordshire and Oxfordshire. The Catuvellauni were a fully-formed elite culture of warriors and priests, and its traditions went back to the early Bronze Age. Cunobelis is the Cymbeline of Shakespeare's play of the same name.

Territory of the Catuvellauni.

Territories of southern Britain’s Celtic tribes.

At some time during the 400s BC, members of the Parisii (a tribe from northern Gaul) settled in Yorkshire, where they created an archaeologically distinctive community. During the 00s BC, a tribe called the Belgae launched a small invasion, and eventually settled in Hampshire, Essex and Kent. The Roman name for Winchester was Venta Belgarum, meaning “the market of the Belgae”.

England's population during the late Iron Age was about 2 million, and by the time the Romans left, it would be 3 million. It was a flourishing, wealthy country, with a surplus of corn, which was why the Romans wanted to invade it.

The south of England was particularly well-off. In south-eastern and central southern England, there was a spread of settlements with extensive towns & villages, markets, industries, shrines, cemeteries and fields. Julius Caesar stated that “the population is very large, their homesteads thick on the ground and very much like those in Gaul, and the cattle numerous. As money they use either bronze or gold coins or iron bars with a fixed standard of weight.” The coins had the stamp of powerful leaders, and made trade easier between tribes.

The further north you went, the less there was of all this. This was because the southern tribes had been trading extensively with Rome and Romanized Gaul long before the Roman invasion. They loved certain foods and luxury goods, and were Romanized to a fair extent.

But they still had their ancient tribal ways as well. There was consistent warfare between tribes, and various leaders appealed to Rome for assistance. Large earthworks were built as boundaries. The warriors rode chariots to battle, and were naked, covering their bodies with blue woad, and having pierced tattoos. Caesar wrote: “They wear their hair long, and shave all their bodies with the exception of their heads and their upper lips.”

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kingmaker-thac0hno · 3 years

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The Kingdom of Thornvale: A Year’s End

The month of Kuthona, 4711

By Kuthona, the cold winds of winter have settled across the lands, and most folk stay indoors by the warmth of the fire. The Lords of Thornvale announce their plans for the month, expanding the kingdom northwest along the Thorn River, and seeking to construct a horse ranch in the hills northwest of Haven.

Evrin works with prominent members of the Haven militia to familiarize themselves with the newly constructed ballista, practicing the slaying of various tree stumps and old barrels. He speaks with Thefina about the construction of a swivel base for the weapon, which she promises to begin working on next month, as she is dedicated to building a school for Lord Stonewalker.

The halfling begins a series of drills at the nearby Stag Lord's fort, and though the weather is unfavorable, many of the militia dutifully trudge there for practice. A few comment on the halfling's desire to fish on the Tuskwater during middle of winter - in truth, Evrin was acting to sink the enchanted and fey-touched Thorny Crown to the bottom of the lake.

Evrin speaks to Jubilost about the recent discovery of the Taldan burial site, and the little gnome is ecstatic. He immediately packs up his things and enlists the help of his gnomish companions to prepare for a journey to the site. Within a few days, the small group is able to reach the crypt and set up camp. Jubilost informs Evrin that he will likely stay here for some time to properly document and categorize his findings. At first glance, however, the gnome is able to explain some of the site.

Long ago, before the Golden Age of Taldor, the young country sent many explorations parties out to settle these lands. If my suspicions are correct, this site seems to be from that era. The markings on the walls and the arrangement of the burial site seem to indicate a person of some stature - perhaps a noble or warrior-knight. The sheer number of books here is astounding, which is indicative of a scholar. They are remarkably well-preserved, and the handful I dared to touch all appear to be written in old Taldan script. Some of these texts appear to be of a magical nature, and I have refrained from examining those in detail until I can be sure of their safety.

There are some interesting observations I can make, however. First, there appears to be a book missing from this crypt. Did one of your men take it? A surveyor perhaps? Something to look into, certainly: where it went, and why they took it?

Second, the deceased corpse from the sarcophagus, see it there? The crown on its head? It appears as though a gemstone once rested within it. Though I have not once seen a gemstone with such an odd, notch-shaped cut. It too, appears taken. At first I thought it may have simply fallen out in the battle, but no! Look there, and there - upon the gold, what do you see? Those little scrapes could only have been made by a knife or dagger.

Third, you are right. The shield here is indeed missing. You can tell by the depressions on the shield-arm here and here, where the shield straps were fastened. It would have been rounded, likely with a high or low grip as was commonplace at the time - not a center grip shield like we do now. Though I am confounded as to why someone would take the shield, and leave the sword. Or how it would have lasted all these ages, as the wood surely would have disintegrated by now.

Hopefully, these books will hold some answers, though I suspect the missing one is key.

*** Karis speaks to Kimble the tailor and Quill the Blacksmith, setting them to crafting various outfits and wrist dagger-sheaths. They, along with Thefina and her hidden-compartment crates, set to working and by the end of Kuthona have suitable products for use. He directs Lathon to continue drills with the Aldori - now taking place at the nearby ruined fort. The sailor looks hale and much more resilient than earlier in the year, and his demeanor reflects it.

Daily visits with his wyvern maintain the bond between the two, but the winter weather has made the creature lethargic and slow. It seems to sleep more and prefers the warmth of the fire. Throughout the month Karis dedicates many nights to meditation, seeing to connect with his patron - but the Lady remains disturbingly quiet.

Much time is spent on training with the young boy Rhys in learning the elven language and the subterfuge tradecraft. Though a few grumpily shoo the boy, most commoners in Haven often laugh at the lad as he slinks about the town, playing at being a sneakthief. Karis sends the boy on several play-missions such as how many pints is Oleg consuming between breakfast and dinner, performing some infiltration exercises, such as lifting some of Saryn’s fancy boots and returning the footwear before he notices them missing.

Unfortunately, the lad stumbles, and is caught red-handed by the Lord Saryn With a wink, he offers a few unsettling words. Momma always told me taking things without asking was asking for trouble! With that, sinewy elongated tongues jut forth from deep within each of the boots wrapping around the lad’s forearms as fangs tear through the fine leather cuffs and begin gnashing hungrily at his hands. Rhys, screaming in terror, yells, Lord Karis told me to do it! He told me to do it!

After a few moments, Saryn calmly explains, If you apologize to my mimic I am certain he will probably not devour you, but you should probably be far more careful in the future- especially when breaking into a house full of monsters!

Rhys, realizing he is unharmed, apologizes, and explains the exercise. He then sulks away sheepishly, returning to Lord Karis, who takes the opportunity to relay to the boy that failure and learning from these exercises within the confines of Thornvale is far more forgiving than far reaches of its enemies.

***

Upon returning to Blackstag from Haven, once well upon the waters of the Tuskwater, Odis says over his shoulder Well, it’s getting better...but they still don’t think of us as equals.

After a moments pause, Arna responds, ‘Cause we are not equals. We’re yet to provide to the kingdom main At this Odis actually stops paddling and turns to meet her We now is it?

Arna ignores the jest, surprised herself at her choice of pronouns. We know their needs, needs they have been trying to fill, but have been unable...you’ve been trading with Mivon, tell me about them.

What, the eel eaters? Walled city built on a bog. Lots of folk, but short on resources, nasty bunch of gangs. Duels weekly right in the square, damned waste of good swordsmen if you ask me, came the reply.

Let’s make a trip this month, take 3 or so of the fairest looking widows. See if we can convince some apprentice or journeymen to come to Blackstag in the spring. Men will come at the promise of getting their wicks wet or finding a bride along with the coin they’d make.

And so Odis, Arna, and several other women from Blackstag head south to Mivon. The journey is cold and slow, as they paddle down the Little Sellen Rriver via canoe. There are remarkably few dwarves in Mivon, and the city smells vaguely of peat. Nearly everyone here seems to dress in the style of the Aldori duelists, and virtually everyone with a sword seems to have the colors of one house or another emblazoned upon his person. Finally, a warm tavern is a welcome sight, and within, Arna gets to know the folk around town.

Little do they realize that they have ended up in the lower quarter of Mivon, full of the un-desirables. Two near-fistfights and a bowl of spoilt gruel later, Odis and the dwarf end up in a quiet discussion with the waitress, a lass of maybe 15, curious as to why such foreigners would come to her town. After a brief discussion of their mission, the gal excuses herself, promising to return.

Later that evening, the small group is approached by a rough-looking gentleman, but one clearly respected ( perhaps feared?) by his companions. He's heard of Arna's story, and comes with a proposition:

I have, at times, a need to relocate people out of Mivon. Good people. People who shouldn't have to face bad things. It seems that you are looking for people with skills. These people, my people, often do. It seems we may be able to help each other. Take your time, think it over. Have a meal on me - the good stuff, not that swill you’ve been eating. When you decide, let the lass know.

The man turns to leave, but as he does so, he speaks one final time, We never met, understood?

***

Continuing their plans for a school in Haven, Thefina and Stonewalker enlist a number of idle folk to help with the work. The going is very slow, as the cold ground makes digging difficult, but by the end of the month, the school stands - doors open for new students in the new year.

Regarding the position of instructor, Stonewalker speaks to many of the skilled folk in Haven, who all politely decline. Most - like Kimble Purling, Grutzner Brasse, Ardbeg, and Thefina herself ( among others) openly offer to take on younger apprentices to teach their trade, but most express that they have no time for classroom teaching ( and a few suggest that the classroom is no place to practice a trade). As such, no full-time teacher is found to staff the school. One of the local mothers, Midge, volunteers as nanny. In addition, a missive is sent to Blackstag informing them of the opportunity for education for their youth.

Stonewalkers biweekly meetings of various tradesfolk in Haven have encouraged more and more residents to speak up regarding suggestions. Jubilost Nartropple, recently retuned to Haven, suggests that a library of sorts would be good for academics, and is willing to contribute the first book to it's collection: The Mysteries of Mivon: An Exploration of the Eastern River Kingdoms, by none other than himself. In addition, he would like someplace where he could buy some decent ink.

Oleg mentions some warehouses to store surplus furs during hunting season, and one of the local farmers mentions that the cellar underneath Havenhall is getting rather full - suggesting that perhaps a granary is in order. A few of the fishermen in town suggest a establishing a curing house where they can salt excess fish for trade ( or a winter stockpile).

***

Saryn continues his tradition of aiding those in town, speaking words of inspiration to the departing surveying expedition and singing songs of rejuvenation to the workers at the ranch. By now, he has come to know the majority of the residents of Haven, and is able to quickly find and speak with the halfling seeking to create a gathering place for burrowing folk near the old sycamore.

Furret Quickfoot explains that he would like to convert the hill under the sycamore to a home for all burrowing sorts - a haven ( near Haven!) for little folk, filled with amenities that suit their kind. Though not nearly as proficient as the battle-hardened lords, the little halfling seems skilled enough with the blade, and light of foot to boot.

Another brief visit to the giant finds him sitting next to a roaring fire made from uprooted trees and surrounded by empty barrels of ale. Munguk is cold and miserable, and very, very drunk. Munguk walk see mommy, but she not home. Munguk wait. No come back. Mommy gone! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

After a bit, Saryn is able to calm down the sobbing giant, and Munguk agrees that sitting in the cold hills sucks, and would rather go someplace warmer - provided there's something to drink.

Additional training with the owlbear and wyvern is difficult, as both creatures seem lethargic and slow. The young owlbear cub seems to just want to sleep all day, and the wyvern stubbornly refuses to leave the warm stone of the fireplace. As such, Saryn makes very little progress with any sort of 'training'.

***

The end of the month brings the end of the year as well, and various small celebrations during Winter Week. The Sootscale kobolds dedicate quiet moments to Aspu during their Time of Reminiscence. Lady Garess is spotted during the Winter Solstice, performing the Ritual of Stardust by singing songs and dancing about a blazing bonfire.

during the last week of the month, with construction of the school complete and Arangin's Acerage finished, the surveyors from upriver return to Haven, happily chatting among themselves and declaring their job complete.

Most Havenites stay indoors to mark the Final Day, waiting for spirits of the years' dead to pass by their doors on the Night of the Pale, and emerging the next morning to welcome in the new year: 4712 AR.

Turn 17; Abadius, 4712 AR

Petitions:

Cedrin reports that Jubilost has left Haven again, eastablishing a camp near the old Taldan burial site.

Cedrin reports that the workers sent to construct the Graniteworks upon the quarry site still refuse to return to work, and are scared of the giant bird who attacked the site in the previous month.

Cedrin reports that he has been able to process the many requests for land from the citizens of Haven. Virtually all of them are requests for small family farm plots in the outlying hills.

Cedrin has collected the submissions for the name of the newly constructed road. A full listing ( sans duplicates) is as follows.

The Kamelands Pass

Four Lord’s Road

Haven’s Trail

Kesten’s Way

The Eastern Stolen Trail

Rue de Garess

The Stag’s Path

Handor’s Highway

Edicts:

You may issue two (2) edicts for the month of Abadius.

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duhragonball · 7 years

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (59/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[4 August, 238 Before Age. Planet Wist.]

He had stumbled, and the results had been disastrous, but very soon he would have another chance. He would make things right, and everything would be as it should have been.

Since the destruction of Goldwall Fortress, the Shockmaster had established a new command center in an abandoned castle a thousand miles away. Wistian technology had transformed the old stone manor into a gleaming administration building, and it was quickly staffed by the highest ranking survivors of the Wistian military. These personnel reported to his new chief of staff, Tigon, formerly a lieutenant colonel in charge of public works projects.

"Rewistification has come to a standstill in the southwestern districts," she said as he stood on the roof and contemplated the view of the valley below. "The devices we used to irrigate the farmland were destroyed in the battle, and so were the supply houses where the backups were stored."

"WE’LL REPLACE THEM," he said, his voice seemingly booming from everywhere at once. "ONCE THE CAMPAIGN IS COMPLETE. WE’LL REPLACE EVERYTHING."

"My Partner," Tigon began, for that was how he wished to be addressed, "That timetable simply won’t work. It’ll take weeks to finish assembling the fleet, and weeks to deploy them to Extraliga, to say nothing of the return trip. The farmers need irrigation now, during the growing season. By the time we return, winter will have set in."

"THE CAMPAIGN IS ALL THAT MATTERS," the Shockmaster said. "EVERYTHING DEPENDS UPON IT. ALL RESOURCES MUST BE PUT TOWARDS THAT GOAL, UNTIL EXTRALIGA IS WON."

"Is this how you make our planet great?" Tigon asked. "By starving its people? By selling them into slavery to pay mercenaries to fight in your war?"

The Shockmaster crossed his arms over his massive chest. "YES," he said.

Tigon was stunned by his bluntness. She opened her mouth to speak, but then he twitched his fingers, and she was suddenly engulfed in bolts of violet lightning.

"DON’T CONFUSE ME WITH THE DEGENERATES WHO ONCE RULED THIS WORLD, TIGON," he said as she convulsed violently. She dropped to her knees and only then did he cease his attack.

"MY AUTHORITY IS ABSOLUTE. I WON’T CHANGE MY PLANS SIMPLY BECAUSE THEY ARE UNPOPULAR. I SEEK TO TRANSFORM THIS PLANET INTO A PARADISE, AND NOTHING LESS. IF THE PEOPLE MUST SUFFER HARDSHIP FOR THE GREATER GOOD, THEN SO BE IT. NOTHING WILL DISTRACT ME FROM MY OBJECTIVE. NOT LUFFA, NOT THE REBELS, NOT THE PEOPLE, AND CERTAINLY NOT YOU."

She recovered from the assault and nodded as she caught her breath. "Yes, sir," she said. Under the circumstances there was really nothing else she could say. She finished her report and left him to stare at the valley.

He didn’t expect them to understand. He had renamed the planet and its people, but none of them were true citizens of Wist. Wist was an ancient civilization to them, barely a footnote in their history. Despite all of its grand and glorious achievements, Wist had fallen, and the planet eventually gave rise to a new civilization: Goldwall. The Goldwallish were fools, possessing reasonably modern technology but preferring to live like a medieval people. They lived in stone castles and wooden houses, and they fought pointless battles over which noble family would rule which parcel of land. Their leaders had all been cruel, treacherous and venal, and they had ruled by fear and intrigue rather than any real power.

It embarrassed the Shockmaster that he had unwittingly played such a pivotal role in Goldwall’s history. For centuries, its rulers had used his legend as a sort of boogeyman to frighten their subjects into obedience. He could understand the value of intimidation, but they had no vision beyond their own appetites. Then the day finally came when he was summoned in earnest. The boogeyman proved to be real after all, and unlike the pitiful regimes who had used him as a crutch, he had a worthy vision for the future, and the strength to realize it.

At first, the people welcomed him, for he brought peace and stability simply by his very existence. None could defy the power of the Shockmaster, so the old disputes and conflicts swiftly became irrelevant. His deputies would jockey for position in the new order, but they knew better than to defy him personally. Alien interlopers had sought to oppose his rule, but they could only chip away at the edges, and he saw them as no serious threat. The Goldwallish were eager to accept anything he told them to do, but only because they believed he would deliver easy, guaranteed victories.

No one had questioned the invasion of Extraliga until it began to unravel. He had gambled much, and paid in manpower and materiel, but he had waited millennia for the chance to take that world. To him, the wormhole’s capture and Luffa’s counterattack were minor setbacks. The resentment of his subjects was little more than a minor annoyance. He had stumbled, but he had stumbled before, and as always, he would rise again and seize the final victory.

Tigon and her kind quibbled over useless details. The wormhole had been a convenience and nothing more. If he had to send a fleet across the galaxy to conquer Extraliga, he would do so. If the fleet needed six weeks to make the journey, so be it. If he had to make his subjects suffer to rebuild his military, then they would suffer. If he had to supplement that fleet with mercenaries, he would. If those mercenaries demanded Wistian slaves in lieu of payment, then it would be done. All that mattered was his goal, and he had already sacrificed far more important things in its pursuit...

*******

A thousand miles to the east of the Shockmaster, night had fallen over the ruins of Fortress Goldwall. Once, the fort would have been a bustling center of activity, lit by hundreds of lamps as officials and merchants went about their business. After the Super Saiyan's rampage, the only signs of life in this place were scavengers hoping to find something useful or valuable in the rubble, and they only came around during the day. Now, the only light was the meager starlight of the moonless sky, and a single flashlight.

The young woman who carried the flashlight moved purposely across the broken fortress. Unlike the usual scavengers, she didn't pause to search the area randomly. Instead, she went to a specific spot and began digging.

An hour passed. Then two. When a Wistian patrol vehicle flew over her position, she shut off her lamp and ducked under a leather cloak to hide, but this was the only real opposition she encountered. Finally, when she had found what she was looking for, she emerged from the hole she had dug, and leaped away from the ruins. She landed hundreds yards away, and broke into a run as soon as her boots touched the ground. Picking up speed, she continued along a road, altering her course and speed only to avoid Wistian convoys and checkpoints. Finally, she vaulted over a fence at the edge of a village and entered a bog on the other side. Wading up to her knees, she spoke a single word in a long-dead language, and vanished.

She reappeared in a room lined with peat and vegetation. There were candles, but most of the illumination was provided by what looked like bubbles that hung in the air and gave off a pale yellow glow. There, in the center, a creature sat upon a moss-covered cushion, engrossed in deep meditation. His muscular body was mostly humanoid, but his bulging yellow eyes and scaly green skin gave him a fish-like appearance. His only clothing was a vest covered in coral, and breeches made of seaweed. He glanced in her direction almost a soon as she arrived, and nodded courteously.

"Trrouuuble?" he asked in a slurred, gargling voice.

"No, I just found it a lot sooner than we expected," she said, removing her cloak to reveal her costume. In spite of the hours spent digging through debris, her blue gloves and boots were spotless, as well as the tricolor leotard she always wore, and the tricorne hat on her head. Her face and legs, however, were covered in dust and grime, a silent testament to her long night's work. "The locator spell you used managed to pinpoint it almost perfectly."

"Wellll dooooone," he said.

"I don't like all this sneaking around, Tobiko. I came to Planet Wist to fight for its freedom, not to dig up old relics from ruined fortresses."

He began to respond, then paused and made a series of esoteric gestures toward his throat. When he completed this spell, he began to speak normally, in a voice she found quite charming.

"Forgive me, Ensign Liberty. I would have searched the ruins myself, but my unsightly form would have been too conspicuous. And though it may not be to your liking, you have a talent for slipping into places unnoticed."

"I'm a revolutionary, mister," she said. "I know the importance of stealth, but I prefer to use it to make strategic gains. Intelligence gathering, sabotage, assassination, that sort of thing." She reached into a satchel hanging from her arm and withdrew a oblong, iridescent gemstone. "But this bauble you sent me to retrieve hardly seems worth the trouble."

He reached out his webbed hand to take the gem from her and examined it carefully with his bulbous eyes. "We shall soon see, M'ranga," he said. "The Crystal Chronicle contains historical records from as far back as the Golden Age of this world. Over the millennia, the knowledge of how to access those records was lost, until the Lords of Goldwall saw it as nothing more than an opulent treasure. But if I can decode its data-lattice with a Spell of Decryption, we may discover a number of gains, strategic or otherwise."

"That's all it is? A history book?" Ensign Liberty asked. When Tobiko nodded, she shook her head and threw out her hands. "What good can that possibly do us? We need to be worried about this planet's future, not its past. The Lords of Goldwall have been oppressing the people here for thousands of years, and for all the Shockmaster's promises, he's on track to finish grinding this world into dust. All he cares about is conquering a planet on the other side of the galaxy, and he's willing to use every resource on this planet to raise his army. We need to be fighting, resisting, not poring over musty old tomes."

"Be mindful, M'ranga. For all your righteous passion, I fear you are making the same mistake the Shockmaster has made."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Our enemy was sealed away thousands of years ago, and now he has awoken in a world he no longer recognizes. He seeks to restore it to the way it once was, or rather the way he wishes it had been."

"He wishes ancient Wist had never fallen," she said. "You already told me all about that. Wist was a paradise once, and he claims he can bring it all back, if only his subjects obey his every command."

"But Ancient Wist never fell," Tobiko replied. "Over the centuries, it changed and evolved into something completely different, but there was no fall, my good Ensign. That would require some singular, catastrophic event to mark the end of one era, and the beginning of the next. History is rarely so convenient, as any historian will attest."

She considered this for a moment. "You're saying the Shockmaster's strategy is flawed because it's built on a false premise. He's pinning all his hopes on this one great battle he's planning, because he thinks that's how the universe works."

"Months ago, you tried to shoot the Shockmaster in his own fortress," Tobiko said. "Your attempt failed, but even if it hadn't, did you truly believe you could liberate Planet Wist in a single stroke?"

"Of course not," she said. "Killing him would have been a big step forward, but only a step. It would have left a power vacuum, and there would have been usurpers, but each of them would be far weaker than the previous regime. The revolution would have an easier path to victory, but not a guaranteed one."

"Then you understand. The Shockmaster, I suspect, does not. If we study the past that he has overlooked, we may find the way to exploit this weakness."

She rubbed the tip of her chin, then took a seat on one of the mossy cushions in Tobiko's sanctum. "Where do we begin?" she asked earnestly.

*******

[6 April, 7491 Before Age. Wist.]

"Remarkable texture, wouldn’t you agree, Lord Beerus?"

"Mmm? Oh, yes. And the flavor is simply amazing. I think a second helping is in order."

"You’ve already had a second helping, my lord. And a third for that matter."

"No one asked you to keep count, Whis! For your information, I’m trying to make as fair an evaluation of this meal as possible."

"Oh, I see."

"It’s one thing to prepare a good meal, but a truly great chef must be able to produce consistent quality. If the second helping is as good as the third, then it demonstrates unparalleled skill."

In the great hall of the Mystic Council, the little boy watched from the doorway while his father served the meal. He was proud of his father. The Wist Hegemony was the greatest power in the universe, and the Mystic Council was wise beyond wisdom itself. That they had selected his father to run their kitchen was a tremendous honor. On days like these, his father had brought him along to watch him work, and the boy had been proud to see the Mystics lavish praise upon the food he prepared.

But this time was different. Tonight, it was not the Council he served, but a pair of visitors. He didn't know who they were or why they had come, or why the Mystics had not used their invincible magic to make them leave. Surely the power of the Ur-Ember was enough to destroy them! Instead, the Mystics spoke in hushed whispers, and they had approached his father and pleaded for him to save them all. They were afraid. Until now, the little boy did not think such a thing was possible. He didn't understand everything that was happening, but he had gathered that something very terrible would happen unless his father could please the two visitors with his cooking.

"Then have you made your determination, Lord Beerus? Or will you need another slice?"

"Don’t rush me. I’ll have to think about this... Hmm, maybe after a nap."

"It wouldn’t be fair to keep them in suspense, now would it? You did say you would spare this world if the meal appeased your anger."

"Yes, well, if they don’t like the suspense, then this planet’s rulers should have been more polite when I arrived. Why, just thinking about it makes me positively..."

He paused to make a long, loud yawn, and then he rubbed his large eyes with his paw-like hands. Then he smacked his lips and continued speaking.

"...errr, positively furious."

"So furious that you want to take a nap, Lord Beerus?" Whis asked with a wry smile.

As they bickered, the little boy watched his father, who stood nearby with a bottle of wine. His father was a consummate professional. As terrified as the Mystics had been, he had accepted his role in the crisis with dignified grace. The boy thought he could make out a bead of sweat rolling down his father's face, but there was no other outward sign of anxiety. He would discharge his duty to the very end.

"Oh, fine, I suppose it was a good enough meal, after all. Hey, you over there."

It took the boy a moment to realize that the visitors had noticed him watching from the doorway.

"Yes, you, little boy. Go and tell those 'mystics' or whatever you call them to get back in here. I’ve made up my mind."

The boy looked to his father, and when he nodded, the boy ran to the great foyer, where the Elders of the Mystic Council waited anxiously. Minutes later, they convened before Beerus, like accused prisoners in their own Great Hall of Judgement.

"You should thank your chef," Beerus said idly. "In spite of your rudeness earlier, his exquisite cooking has convinced me to spare your planet."

The Mystics looked at each other and murmured with excited relief. One of them cleared his throat to speak. "Lord Beerus," he said, "On behalf of the Wist Hegemony, I wish to thank you for your merciful--"

"Oh, enough of that," Beerus said with a wave of his hand. "I’ve had enough of your speeches for one day. Just remember that your little 'hegemony' may have a great deal of power by mortal standards, but it’s no excuse for arrogance. Whis! We’re leaving."

"Right away, my lord."

They rose from their seats, and the one called Whis held out his hand. A long staff appeared from nowhere, and he took it in his hand. Beerus placed one hand on Whis’ shoulder.

"Oh, one last thing," Beerus said before they departed. He began to pick his teeth with one of his clawed fingers. "Although I’ve decided to spare your planet from destruction, I’m afraid my generosity will not be extended to your moon. Well, so long."

Before any of them could register what he had just said, Whis tapped his staff on the floor and the pair of them were engulfed in a column of light. When it faded, there was no trace of either of them. Dumbfounded, they looked out the large window on the south wall, which offered a picturesque view of the city. The full moon, hung in the sky as it always had. The Wistians called it Nostal, and its surface features resembled the face of a smiling woman.

A few seconds later, Nostal's cheery face turned an ashen grey color, and then it exploded in a burst of purple light.

*******

[4 August, 238 Before Age. Planet Wist.]

"The Ur-Ember was the source of power that sustained Wist as a galactic power during its Golden Age. It radiated mystical energy like a star, but it was small enough that you could hold it in your hand. Of course, that would be impossible. Most beings would be utterly destroyed before they could even approach it, much less touch it. That was why it was kept on Wist’s uninhabited moon."

"But Wist has no moon, Tobiko," Ensign Liberty said.

"Indeed. According to legend, the Ancients grew too arrogant, too satisfied with their own supremacy. One day, the gods took notice of them, and paid a visit. They became offended, and destroyed the moon to teach them humility."

"But you said there was no single catastrophe that caused Wist to fall," she said. "Losing the Ur-Ember would have been bad enough, but the moon’s destruction must have wreaked havoc on this planet’s environment."

"It wasn’t as bad as you might expect," Tobiko said. "During the Golden Age, Wist had many advanced technologies and magical devices. The loss of the Ur-Ember was tragic, but not a disaster. Working together, the Ancients eventually stabilized the planet’s orbit and shielded it from whatever debris might have remained from the moon’s destruction. It was a watershed moment, to be sure, but Ancient Wist continued on for many more thousands of years. There was no single event that marked the END of Wist and the BEGINNING of Goldwall. It was a gradual transformation.

"As I was taught, Wist was dealt a serious blow by the gods, but we were determined to recover and learn from the experience. As I said, there were other resources besides the Ur-Ember, and so the Council set to work reallocating those resources to compensate. In the Golden Age there were weather control systems that kept the entire planet in an eternal summer. There were machines that ran on magic to produce food from thin air. Buildings could be transformed completely. With the Ur-Ember, all of these things and more could be used simultaneously. Without it, some of them had to be shut down. The weather system was one of the first to be deactivated. Traditional farming techniques slowly resurfaced. Much of the magic power on Wist was committed to military defense and law enforcement. Too much, I always believed..."

*******

[29 September, 7480 Before Age. Wist.]

"Your father saved us, and it seems only fitting that his son should carry on that tradition."

The ancient sorceress looked as young as himself, and when he considered this, he could only marvel at the glories of Wist. His father had been granted the honor of serving their meals, and now they were prepared to bestow an even greater honor upon him.

"Please, my lady," the young man said as he genuflected before her. "My father only did what he could. I am unworthy of this boon."

"Such humility is the provenance of your worthiness, my young champion," she said. Her voice was as gentle as it was powerful. When her slender hand touched his face, it felt softer and smoother than anything he could imagine, and yet he could somehow sense the mighty energies that surged beneath her radiant skin. It saddened him that such a wonderful person had been reduced to seeking his lowly aid.

"Wist is secure, but with the loss of our moon, we shall surely face an age of turmoil," the sorceress said. "It will take time for our weaknesses to show, and time again for our enemies to exploit these flaws, but these events shall come to pass, as surely as autumn follows summer."

"My lady, Wist has no autumn," he said. "Our climate is regulated by the Temperator, is it not?"

She made a small, sad laugh and gently tilted his head until he was looking up at her. "You are correct, my champion-to-be, but only for now. Wist has indeed known continual summer for many centuries, but the end shall come. The Temperator will go on as it has for some time, but without the Ur-Ember to sustain it, it shall eventually run down until it fails."

"But your powers, my lady!" he said anxiously. "Surely you and the other Mystics possess the means to... to..." He didn’t even know how to finish the thought. It was unthinkable that she and her peers lacked the power to solve any problem, and yet it was unpardonable folly for him to suggest that she had overlooked a possible solution.

"Powers we have," she said. "But many of the wonders that have sustained our Hegemony depended upon the augmented power of the Ur-Ember, which was destroyed with our moon. With its raw power augmenting our abilities, we could sustain a great many things. Now, we Ancients must shepherd our remaining power carefully, and use it only where it is most vital. Do you understand?"

"I... suppose," he said. "It’s difficult to imagine you having any limitations, my lady."

"You will understand better in time," she said. With a wave of her hand, a tiny spark of light floated into the atrium of the Great Hall. It moved directly above her waiting hands and then exploded with a burst of light. He shielded his eyes, and when he dared to look again, he saw her holding a massive silver helmet.

"Behold," she said. "This Helm of Power contains a portion of mystical energies from every member of the Mystic Council. Whosoever wears it shall be given strength and wisdom fitting a true champion of Wist. Indeed, the wearer shall become the living embodiment of all that is ever just and good in our culture. And we have chosen you to become that embodiment of Wist."

"Me? But... surely there are better..."

"We have searched and found none more worthy," she said. "The Council has ruled. This power, this burden, shall be yours alone."

"Burden, my lady?"

"The autumn of Wist is inevitable, my champion. And beyond that, a long winter. Without the Ur-Ember, our enemies shall gather and multiply in the shadows. It will be your task to defend Wist during that long winter, and to uphold what our society stands for. The task will be difficult, sometimes thankless, but always vital. Will you accept the power?"

He was confused. "You said the Council has already decided, my lady. What choice is there? If Wist needs my help, then I must answer the call."

She smiled proudly. "Then take your helm, champion. Become the first of a new age of heroes."

He reached out and took the helmet from her and placed it upon his head. It was completely dark inside, for even the lenses on the helmet were made of opaque silver-colored material. And yet, once the helmet was in place, he found he could see perfectly, as if there was nothing on his head at all.

Then he felt the power, like a bolt of lightning surging from his skull down to the tips of his toes. He stood up, and felt his muscles swelling, his body expanding. Electricity swirled around him, and he made an astonished cry.

The storm inside him did not subside, and he realized that it never truly would, but soon he found that his mind and body had adjusted to the power within him, and he looked down to find the ancient sorceress looking up at him with satisfaction.

"THE ENTIRE ROOM..." he said. He no longer recognized his own voice. It rumbled like distant thunder, and seemed to come from everywhere at once. "EVERYTHING IS SMALLER... NO... I’VE JUST GOTTEN BIGGER, HAVEN’T I?"

"Correct," she said. "You have been transformed into a being of power incarnate. As the Temperator allowed us to be masters of the weather, so you have become a master of the mystic energies bestowed upon the helm."

"HAVE I BECOME AN ANCIENT LIKE YOU?"

"In a sense," she admitted. "Your lifespan will be many times more than that of a normal man, and you now possess the same innate powers as I, but instead of mystic insight, your power is confined to physical might."

"YES. I CAN FEEL IT."

"Our Hegemony has suffered a tremendous blow, and there will be other shocks to our society to come. You will protect us from those disturbances, absorbing their impact and allowing our culture the chance to adapt to the coming changes. Henceforth, you will be known as the Shockmaster."

There was more for him to understand, of course, and she promised to explain it to him over the next several days. For now, he could only be amazed as he slowly realized what he had become, and the possibilities that now lay before him. As the sorceress spoke, he made many personal resolutions to himself.

The first was that he would defend Wist with all his heart and soul. The second was that he would never forget the supreme confidence she had in him, and do everything in his power to never let her down.

The third was that he would find some way to bring back Wist’s endless summer, and banish the hated autumn to the dustbin of history.

NEXT: The Tarnished Age

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