Chapter 3-2

1397 Words
Newer gods arose to exist alongside older gods or to replace those gods societies failed any longer to trust: Tanish, goddess of divine love and erotic play, popular in the east and southeast; Isitis, the Great Mother, in earlier times the consort of the powerful storm god Yodor; Ordru; Ikribu, a violent war-god imported by military units from the southlands; Seru, an imp of fortune good and bad; Leigu, originally a deity of the deep-jungle river peoples; Daum, a swamp wraith wholly inimical to mankind and worshipped solely by apostates from other faiths or young sorcerers. Lavish temples were built to honor the most popular deities; and their servants, while no longer wielding the extreme power that had been theirs in more primitive times, were yet highly respected. However, it was not uncommon for temple and state—the latter ruled by hereditary (and usually military) kings—to conflict in their aspirations. Only once, however, did religious interests gain primacy over secular power during the Middle Days, and this was in Tol, a harsh desert land, where Prince Bitnu, violent apostle of the Creed of Amigor, overthrew his father and reigned uncertainly for ten years, until uncles retook the throne in a b****y coup. Otherwise, priests and acolytes acted as adjuncts to the thrones of every nation, wisely kept to their stations, and were well rewarded. Worship was primarily controlled by male priests, and this was the custom even in the worship of powerful feminine deities, except for the priestesses who commanded the temples of Tanish and those of Isitis, the Earth Mother, whose worship had continued since the First Days. Otherwise, the Middle Days was a period strongly male dominated—in contrast to the more primitive, tribal rule before Taïsakul, when gynarchies had not infrequently flourished. The eastern seaboard from Argalon to northern Ishdaris flourished in the Middle Days with bustling ports, and the major caravan trails formed along the old routes toward the continental interior. Salasal and Argalon were known for their timber, minerals, and wool; Logne, for its ship building, copper, tin, and iron; Neria, for its grains, beers, ales, and wines—the finest in the world—as well as splendid fabrics, parchment, and dyes; Khom, for its ships, hemp, oils, and pottery; Setom, for its salt, sugar, and other spices, many incenses, ivory, silver, and gold; Ishdaris, for its spun textiles, ceramics, and animals; and the southern nations, Kustaka, Terehem, and Loksim, primarily for their continuous slave traffic, along with animals for exhibition, exotic plants and perfumes, and some timber. Csith exported cedarwoods, figs and dates, ornaments and spices, but largely could not compete with its eastern neighbors. The low countries of the far southwest—Kostath-Khum and Lusk—dealt little in trade; they were self-sufficient, produced almost no goods for export, and remained largely isolated in their swamplands and harsh terrain. The far western nations of the coast, as well, did not enter into trade; beyond the mountains as they were, their people raised livestock and fished for their sustenance, hunted, and traded usually with their own neighbors. They were not as primitive as their regressed neighbors in the Nevga River Valley, and they had built strong, fortress-like cities, but theirs was a harsh environment of long cold winters and short, damp summers, with mists from the sea and tall wooded mountains to block the sky, and they had no use for the almost-mythical nations beyond their rugged frontier. The riverways of all nations, of course, hurried with commercial watercraft and the pleasure barges of a wealthy nobility. On summer nights, it was a common sight to find twin-masted galleys, draped with silk curtains and animal skins, crowded with noblemen and ladies, with the music of hired singers and the laughter of happy guests, carrying lamps past the shores where much poorer folk still cast their nets, long past midnight, hoping to store enough salted fish and oil for the coming winter. In most nations, a caste system defined the social scale—the division of their populaces into hereditary nobility and gentry, the military, holy religious orders and businesspeople, artisans and scholars, fishers and farmers, and then the slaves and human cast-offs. There was no true middle class, and little upward mobility, although the presence of businesspeople—importers and exporters, bankers, industrious fishermen and farmers, manufacturers—increased when, in such large nations as Argalon, Logne, Neria, Setom, and Khom, the governments became less involved in such ventures and concentrated more upon military and religious issues and jurisprudence. The military in all nations managed the internal policing and border patrolling of their countries, overseen directly by the throne, or more commonly by the local governors or lords of their jurisdictions. State rule and government were more stable in the older nations, while thrones ruled by religious or more aggressive military potentates in younger nations were volatile. However, the large number of landed aristocrats in these countries, great or small, led to innumerable strifes and jealousies; very often, squabbles would erupt into local warfare. In times of economic instability, religious upheaval, or governmental injustice or uncertainty, such squabbles could fan into wars of national or international consequence. There were always scheming dukes and barons and lords of city-states more than eager to take advantage of aging or ill neighbors, or play son against father, or insinuate the devotee of Tanish against the worshipper of Arkatu. During the Middle Days, however, the size and preeminence of the oldest and most sizable nations ensured measures of peace and prosperity for their peoples for decades at a time. The mighty nation of Neria offers a microcosmic view of the state of Attluma during this glorious Middle Period. By the time of Oron, the Middle Days had endured for a thousand years. The civilizing of Attluma was nearly at its peak, even as ancient prophecies predicted an eventual All-Night that would engulf the lands with the same horrors as had held the earth in its dark Dawn. Neria was at the height of its strength and in somewhat stable amity with its oldest neighbors—Argalon, Logne, Setom, and Khom. The military and the combined strengths of the temples and the aristocracy were kept in balance by a well-ordered administration of wealthy lords and the alumni of legal and religious training schools, who counseled the throne at all times. Cultural interests flourished in Neria, and for a period of some centuries, the throne was astonishingly lenient concerning the civil rights of its populace. This was the time of the great philosophers, natural scientists, physicians, poets, artisans, master builders, and religious leaders: Iao, the barbarian rhapsodist; Ezen of Sorkendum, the renowned physician; Shalasu of Phros; Sukhudi and Egir of Taszarad; Damar Eltek (“the Wise Woman”) of Sei; and Ubi the Ushbaran, founder of the colossal Imnu Sher—the House of Thought—in Sorkendum, Imnu SheDespite these advances, however, Neria—and all of Attluma—was still aware of the magic and sorcery, the wizards and sorcerers, the demons and demi-demons that dwelt on the fringes of civilization. And the threat of Kossuth was ever a memory in the minds of all; it was in the order of all humankind and the gods that the first of the dark demons, Kossuth, every thousand years might burst from his prisoning pit in Hell and attempt to gain rule of the earth. Dark acolytes worshipped Kossuth and followed the movements of the stars and read portents in ancient documents, listened to the rites and the vows and the praises of Kossuth. The ancient evil had not been raised to earth since the time of Amrod Na-Kha, potent son of King Selthis of Csith. And yet, as one in the prime of life is even more aware that someday they will weaken and die and go to the shadows, so too with the nation of Neria and the nations of Attluma. In the great days of their independence and growth and wealth and esteem, they were aware that someday—one day—Kossuth, the primal evil, would attempt to rise from Hell and gain dominance over the cities and waterways and thrones and fields of the world. Na-KhLike a dark memory, an insistent emotion that cannot be discouraged— Kossuth. Kossuth….
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