NationStates Jolt Archive

The Kingdom of Seslia
May 15, 314BC

The land that would one day become Zukariaa was, in 314BC, a land of city-states that warred over all the land that they could get. It was an extremely disunited land, and the only reason no one had yet swooped in on them was because of a massive defeat for the eastern 'Oltumarian Empire' had tried just that and been massively defeated after several of the eastern cities united against the threat.

On this particular day, in this particular area, everything was relatively peaceful. A small city-state known as the Kingdom of Seslia, on the tip of the Kahsrian Pennensula, was going through a self-proclaimed Golden Age under King Nesterius IV, who had upped the Seslian armed forces to the entire male population, around 200 men. The Seslians considered this a powerful force to be reconned with. The other cities nearby simply overlooked Seslia.

Still, it was peaceful, and one man named Gerro stood on the beach quietly thinking of the days to come, of how Seslia could become great. As he sat, he couldn't help but notice something on the horizon, on the ocean.

Coming towards him.

Off the shores of the Kingdom of Seslia
314BC, 483 Before the Descendants

The people that would indeed become the Jaredcohenians were a people who traveled a great deal of the time. One could not consider the Cohenians a nomadic tribe, as the official Kingdom of Cohenia - a land which was nestled in between an ice sheet and an ocean - was the place they called home. The idea of this land was that it was God's first stepping stone on Earth. God's glory first arrived in the icy land of Cohenia where he created the first beings, the Cohenians. The idea that the Cohenians were the first beings created by God gave them a certain superiority complex, that anyone who wasn't a Cohenian (or anyone with skin the color of snow, more so the Cohenian) was highly inferior to them. The superiority complex bestowed by God for the Cohenians meant that anyone who wasn't a Cohenian was to be: raped to make Cohenian children, plundered for them to realize that the Cohenian way was the only way, and their lands destroyed in order for the purification (or Cohenianizing) to commence. Sadly for the Seslians, they would fall victim to the ways to be Cohenianized.

There were eight long, wooden boats of thirty five men each rowing towards the Seslian coast. Using what they considered 'high-tech', they had seen the Seslians from over three miles away with their "power eyes" (primitive telescopes). The land they were sailing to was land they had never seen before, this was not on the maps that they had kept. Actually, they didn't know if it was on their maps or not. Their maps consisted of lands to be weary of, specifically due to dragons and sea monsters, or various other cannibalistic peoples.

The three boats were sailing closer and closer to the land; land much farther south than any Cohenian had ever traveled before, according to the stars they had traveled significantly south and a tad east. The man in charge of this expedition was a man called Yuri the Traveler, a man who had traveled so far as to see "strange men wearing linen wrapped around their heads in a cone" and "odd folk who dress up as foxes and wolves, animals normally hunted, and copulate". Yuri was regarded as one of the wisest men ever to be called a Cohenian, a man who had done quite a bit of mapping for the nation.

"Men," the Traveler stood from his seat and turned his body to face the rowing invaders. "We are soon to reach land we are unfamiliar with, we do not know what we can find there. Perhaps it is other people God has blessed, perhaps it is men with skin the color of our tanned cow hide vests. We must be prepared - if they do not appear to be Cohenians, then they must become Cohenians. As our fathers have instructed us: weavers and mistresses are to be birthers of a pure race, their precious possessions are to be confiscated by the will of God, and their village and entire civilization is to be cleansed in order to start the purification for God. All who put up a resistance and not the birthers of our race are to be sacrificed to God in order to please him and give us strength for our upcoming battle! Do you hear me, my soldiers?" The soldiers screamed, the other ships were in close enough range to hear the Traveler's speech. "Kill first, ask later! Onwards, my soldiers! By the will of God!"

"By the will of God!" echoed the soldiers, probably unknown to the man sitting on the beach who would only hear strange grunts and voices produced by the invaders. As the boats arrived closer and closer to the sandy beach, the Cohenians noted that the man sitting there was indeed not a Cohenian. The first of the boats landed at the shore, the lone male was to be purged. "By the will of God!" Thirty men shrieked as they disembarked from their wooden, laden with barnacles, splintering ship; with iron spears, iron axes, and iron broadswords clutched in their fingers charging towards the man at the beach. The situation at the beach would only become, what they hoped, the first casualty in a bloody series of assimilation.

The Coast of the Kingdom of Seslia
314 BC
Seeing the thirty men offloading with spears and axes, Gerro couldn't help but shake, barely aware of the warm stream moving down the side of his leg. Adrenaline rushed through his body and he pulled out his dagger and prepared for impact, knowing full well that he stood no chance of getting away on foot. When the mass of Cohenians collided with him, he swung backwards like a ragdoll, a spear sticking through his side and an axe mangling his skull. Bits and chunks of bone splattered in scarlet red. Gerro's death was overlydramatic and painful, but relatively quick.

At the top of the hill at the end of the beach, a man helped his bull up the hill to the city gates, his large amount of goods from a neighboring city in tow. He had noticed the Cohenian boats earlier, but he only now realized that they were not Zukariaan. They were much lower to the water, and had a funny looking sail. He had also noticed them charging some random person on the beach and then move away from him.

"What in the name of the Gods," he muttered, and then realized that something was wrong. He looked at the gate guard who had been staring at them as well and shouted,"Sir, perhaps we should inform the King of this. It seems as though they're hostile." As if killing some random person wasn't hostile.

The King, however, apparantly knew of it already. Probably because his "palace" stood over the wooden palisade that passed as the city walls. He sounded a horn that the entire city would hear and loath. It was the call to service for every man. Including the trader. As the Cohenians would obviously be moving towards the city with eight boats worth of people, the defense would need to move quickly. Within fifteen minutes, 214 men stood in a regimental formation, behind them were 30 archers. At the front was King Nesterius on his horse and in golden-lined armour (he had used all the gold in the area to line his armor).

"Men, I do not even know what we face today. The local trader, Phestos, claims that they brutally murdered our well-known womanly-man, Gerro. Good riddance. No one liked him anyways," the was evidently supposed to make them cheer, but in reality, most of the people respected Gerro. One man spit in the king's direction, which recieved a harsh look,"Either way, today we face a deadly foe. We do not know where they come from, but they are ready to kill without warning. If we do not fight them off today, our families will die and we will lose our home."

A man in the city's force shouted out,"Not if we leave, you stupid bastard!" which resulted in the King looking through the crowd of smirks for the person who had said it. Another person shouted,"Why don't you shut up so we can fight them before they break in!"

The men moved out into the front of the city to see the Cohenians moving towards the city from down the hill. They formed into their lines and marched forward. The thirty archers began firing off. Phestos' cow mooed. King Nesterius called to the men to "feel no fear". It would have been different if they were proffesional legionaries from Kahserbirg, or Moarian Spearmen. These Seslians were nothing but farmers, potters, blacksmiths. The only person who had actually been a soldier was Gerro, and he was dead.

The men stopped. It was customary for enemies to meet in the field, and the Zukariaans assumed the Cohenians did the same thing. King Nesterius marched forward in his pomp. They had no idea what was even in store for them.

Somewhere in the Kingdom of Seslia. Not near the coast.
314BC, 483 Before the Descendants

OOC: Please note that the Seslian mobilization could not occur instantly, by the time the Seslians had their full force completely armored and ready to go, the Cohenians have left the shore.

"That man pricked me with a sharp instrument!" A soldier yelped. The effeminate man was not skilled in the art of stabbing, the Cohenians were able to tell by how the man held his dagger the wrong way. A small amount of blood oozed from a slit in his pallid skin. He bent over and grabbed a large, oddly placed leaf and flattened it on his flesh wound. "Do you think all of these heathens have such a great inadequacy of martial skill?"

"Perhaps so," said the Traveler; wiping blood off of his sharpened stone spear (or "arrowhead"). "However, we should always be prepared. We're unaware as to whom we're dealing with. They're heathens as you stated, they aren't civilized people like us. Should they be willing, we will convert them to show the pagans the one and only Lord. Should they not be willing, we will bed their women and kill their men. Or enslave their men. It doesn't matter, the idea still sticks."

"You said they were heathens, Yuri the Traveler." A soldier stepped forward, removing his helmet to speak. "If they are heathens, how can we be sure that they even own beds?" The Traveler promptly ignored said question. After much wandering, the Cohenians had approached a large crowd of people, people wielding strange curved wooden/string combinations with small spears on their backs. The Cohenians had never seen a bow and arrow before, the technology was Greek to them. But they recognized an arrow as a javelin - and anyone with a javelin was an enemy. "Sir!" the former querying soldier piped. "What are we to do?" Behind him, more experienced soldiers unsheathed their swords and took their axes off of their backs.

"Purge the infidels, young man. By the will of God!" The traveler ran at full speed, clutching the handle of his axe in his two hands. He held the axe with a strong force, but the Traveler slowed down as other soldiers passed him. After all, the commander can't die in combat. The three hundred some odd soldiers charged towards the backs of the Seslian infantry division, a surprise attack if you will. One thing the Traveler noticed was a man on horseback, wearing shiny armor. It was gold, the Traveler could sense it. This man was to die.

Outside the City Walls of Seslia
314 BC

"Hold the line, men! Don't let them take us down!" screamed King Nesterius from his position at the end of the line. The back had been taken by surprise and many of the men were killed. The regiment shifted to face this attack and several javelins were flung towards the Cohenians. Arrows were soaring at a constant rate, albeit not that well placed. A horn could be heard over the roars of combat.

"This is absolutely rediculous. For what reason are these men attacking us?" the old trader asked, his speech blurred by the thick screaming. He was in the middle of the regiment and would not need to fight for some time, hopefully. Of course, it was obvious that they would lose. These men were armed with shortswords and spears and wore leather armor backed up by simple chainmail. What could they do against these beastly men of the sea, who held axes as big as a child?

The villagers were watching from wherever they could. Through cracks in the walls, their roofs, whatever. Some decided to toss rocks, but one could be heard loudly saying,"Fuck this, I'm going to Kahserbirg," one of the soldiers in the line jolted from hearing this, and crumpled over as an axe ripped through his head.

King Nesterius charged forward on his horse, clad in armor. He hoped that his horse's impact would kill several of this enemy, and that his skills with a sword conveniantly paid by the local blacksmith's earnings would pay off.


One villager, who had decided to flee, packed a bow and rode off on a stolen horse. He would send word to Kahserbirg and any cities along the way. He hoped that he would be able to save his home before it was conquered (which was not likely, considering how small and insignificant Seslia was, in all reality). His hopes that the Kahsrian professional forces would come to the aid of the Seslians seemed far fetched, but he went on anyhow.

Outside the City Walls of Seslia
314 BC, 483 Before the Descendants

"By the will of "-one soldier screamed before his eye was penetrated by a fast traveling javelin, killing him instantly. Many other soldiers perished due to arrows and javelins, the frontal assault from the Seslians attacked the soldiers' faces, laying on the battlefield were dozens of Cohenians with javelins and arrows protruding from their mouths, eyes, cheeks, and throats. The various other thrown weapons had little effect on the Cohenians - rocks simply dinged and dented the armor. "How about you eat your own weapons, heathens?!" A second soldier yelled, ripping a javelin out of a mortally wounded man. Flesh was on the spear's tip, but far enough down for the spear's head to be seen. A rock tip that was grey at the start of the battle was now blood red; he chucked the spear at full force towards the man on horseback before he himself was grounded by an arrow. At this point, towards twenty five Cohenians had died and more were wounded.

Bloody javelins were thrown at the Seslians, and men with spears charged the Seslians full on. Axes that were larger than children were being held by the Cohenians as well; these axes were made with iron and had decorations engraved on the sides. According to Cohenian lore, what it says on a Cohenian samael's (lit. "angel of death". axe wielding soldiers, the strongest in the military) axe depicts his entire life story. Intricate designs were made on these axes; telling if they were married, had kids, their birth place, and the like. The samaels were large, muscular, with eyes the color of the blood on their axes. Said men charged ferociously at the Seslians, yelling a battlecry as if they were in an incoherant state. "By the will of God!" they chanted, "our axes will dismember your entire body! Death to the heathens!"

All the Traveler could do was watch. He was not a 'chosen one', not one blessed to be one of the strongest soldiers the military could offer. The traveler sighed and took out a javelin from a neighboring carcass, eye still on it. As Yuri ran, the javelin flung out of his palm towards a Seslian.