Hasmone
08-07-2008, 23:48
"...It was then, in 710 C.E. that the marriage of King Hasmoneus of the Jewish kingdom and Queen Adiva of the Muslim Kingdom united the two lands. The unity of the two nations persisted, with the Muslims and the Jews slowly discovering a common culture. The new kingdom was given a new name after its founding king- Hasmone."
The city center of Solomon was washed with a cloud of heat as the sun beat down from above. The soft, dark colors of the surrounding houses blended with the bright greens and blues of the merchant's tents. The sounds of children's laughter mingled with the scolding of mothers and the calls of vendors, hawking their wares. the wafting scent of something spicy with lamb drifted through the air, and down the street, causing several passing men to stop and inhale deeply of the intoxicating smell. Two men rode along on bicycles, the tan of the first's skin in contrast to the darker tones of his friend's. A group of small and well dressed but rowdy children passed by, shepherded by a bedraggled looking mother in a shawl. Two men emerged from the small mosque at the end of the street, and exchanged nods with two other men passing by, keepahs perched atop their heads. It was an idyllic scene, and one could almost believe it was something out of a fairytale. Suddenly, a rippling boom passed through the square, and that self same fairytale halted. Faces turned instinctively towards the sky as the sound of screaming began to rise. And then, suddenly, fire. In a flash of fire, smoke, and pain, the entire scene had changed. The idyllic city center was ripped asunder. Bodies lay, charred by the blast. Flames licked down the sides of the brightly colored tents, and panic reigned. The screams and cries rent the sky as below, the city center was painted red with blood and flame.
King David III was by no means an imposing figure. He lacked the long flowing beard or menacing stare of his predecessors, and was in fact clean-shaven and had a stare which would make you trust him very much in one of those infomercials that sells 250 piece sets of vegetable slicers. He rocked softly back and forth on the wicker love-seat he loved so dearly, his wife Alima's head resting gently against his chest. Looking out from the balcony on which he sat, he could see the vast economic center of Solomon, the bustling trade center which kept his tiny kingdom going in her economic right. He smiled wistfully, a small part of him longing for the days as a prince, when he could go walking in that city, taking in the colors and sights and sounds of the people he was destined to rule. A gentle wafting breeze passed over him, and the moment would have been perfect, had it not been at that very moment that Aban Burkai, the Minister of Defense, chosen that inconvenient moment to come bursting through the door, panting and out of breath. He was a shortish, balding man, with dark tanned skin and a wild, bushy mustache which would be registered as a deadly weapon in several countries. His breathlessness came from a combination of the 5 flights of stairs he had sprinted up to reach the king, and his general anxiety with the world. Of course, as David's father would say, it was that anxiety that had kept the Kingdom safe ever since Aban had taken office some 25 years previously. And now, he was very anxious, and the look on his face registered that with the king. Rising from the wicker love-seat, he strode purposefully from the balcony, leaving Alima to continue resting peacefully. Following Aban down the steps, David wondered what had happened to cause the man such consternation. But, as the two entered the situations room, the issue became violently apparent.
His name was Chaim Har-Segor. At the age of 42, his hair was showing streaks of gray, and as he clipped his keepah into his hair, he felt that he was maybe growing too old for this. The mirror stared back at him, reflecting a tired face, li.ned with age and marked with liver spots. From behind glasses, two gray eyes stared back, radiating a quiet intelligence, showing a hint of the man who hid behind the facade of someone much older and tireder then he truly was. Behind him, a door slid open, and Chaim turned from the mirror to face two men, both in similarly simple, Judaic garb. He nodded sternly to the first, who spoke with a low, guttural voice. "It has been done sir. Just as you wished it." Chaim nodded. "How did the process go?" The first man responded, his companion remaining stoically silent. "We set up around 7 o'clock this morning. We hid on a rooftop, out of sight. When high noon came around, and the square was filled with people, we opened fire. The mortars were deadly enough- I estimate 7 dead, 20 or so wounded." Chaim nodded, in an almost mechanical way. He turned and switched on the tiny television which sat in the room, and it crackled into life on HNN, the Hasmone News Network. He watched with a detached, emotionless face, the footage of the carnage which had been reeked in downtown Solomon that morning. The fire from the sky, the burned bodies, the crying mothers and sobbing children. The carnage he had ordered to be done. Sighing, he switched the set off. "All, gentleman, is done for a reason. All is done for Adonai, and in the name of Adonai." he turned to face the two men. "Find 3 others, and head for Malechu. Scope out your next target, and Adonai be with you." The two men turned, and left without a sound.
David was ushered into the tiny situations room by Aban, and the sight that met his eyes caused him to halt. David Aharoni, the mayor of Hasmone was seated there, a look of stunned shock still frozen on his face. There, too, was Hafsa Abasi, the general of the Hasmone army, a look of cold determination on his face. Taking one look at the stunned faces in the room, David spoke. "What happened?" David began to explain, but Hafsa cut him off. "Let me, David." He stood smartly to attention, but David beckoned him to be seated. "No need for the formality here, Hafsa. Tell me what happened." Hafsa relaxed. "Your Highness, there was an attack this morning at a little after noon, in the city center." David's face grew visibly paler as he took in the news. "What sort of attack?" "We don't know who they were." responded the general. "We found several 60 millimeter mortars stationed on a roof opposite the square, and we believe that's what they used." David nodded, stunned by the news. "Have there been any more attacks?" he asked, words choked. The general shook his head. "None have been reported. Whoever has done this, we don't know who or why." Suddenly, the door burst open. An aid rushed in, hair slicked back from perspiration, appearing visibly shaken. Pausing to catch his breath, he managed to wheeze out, "Your majesty... there's been... another...attack...in Adina..." David rose from his chair, knocking it over. "Tell me, what happened?" The aid caught his breath in short gasps. "RPG fire... 2 dead so far, more wounded..." David strode towards the door, but was stopped short by the aids gasped addition. "And your majesty...they're saying...they're saying...it was a different group." David burst through the door, leaving the exhausted aid to collapse into the chair.
The darkness in this room was absolute, cut only by a single, burning candle. This, however, was just the way Khawlah Amir liked it. He meditated quietly to himself, a lone figure in the darkness. Slowly, he rose from his resting position, and stood, stretching slowly in the darkness. Finally, he turned, and stepped out through the door into a long stone hallway. Proceeding down it with the grace and speed of a man going somewhere, he strode briskly towards the door at the end of the hallway. He slid back the lock, and emerged out into a sandy clearing where perhaps 50 men sat arrayed in groups of various sizes. Hands clutched AK-47's, and several sat idyly polishing their guns as a way to pass the time. Amir stood before them, all eyes suddenly riveted on him. He took a moment to take in the feeling of being in the spotlight, the center of attention, and then began to speak. "My friends, my fellow servants of Allah, you have done well. You who have fought so bravely against our enemy, who have stood against us. But, I say to you, my brothers and friends, are they in the right?" A chorus of nos and boos rang out from the crowd. "We are in the right! We fight for the best of Hasmone! For the best of our country! In the name of Allah!" Cheers and cries of "Allahu Ackbar!" filled the sky. Khawlah smiled, and beckoned three men from the crowd. "I trust it all went well in Adina, then?" The men nodded. "Oh, yes. We found the perfect time to strike, and it all went according to plan." Khawlah nodded, a satisfied look on his face. "Very well. Take 2 others, and head for Malechu. I want you to prepare for your next attack. Fair well brothers." He saluted them, and turned to walk back inside.
The sun was hot over Malechu, but the feeling was subdued. The two attacks, first in Solomon and then in Adina, had left an air of sadness hanging like some musty, day old smell. People moved through the streets in quietly, and nobody stopped to chat or say hello. The only loud sound was that of a truck, pulling down the road onto main street. Here were Chaim's men, in to scope out a new sight for their next attack. And, down the street a ways, were the men of Khawlah Amir, on foot, and with guns hidden under jackets. The two were bound to meet if one did not turn, and so it was that dead center of the long high street, the two parties came to a stop. Chaim's men honked their horn, but Kahwlah's men just laughed. One of the men in the truck leaned out of the window and yelled, "Get out of the way, raghead!" The man the insult was directed at swore and began to leap forward, held back by his fellows. A police officer over on the corner saw the scuffle, and moved in to break it up. That is, he moved in until he was the second man draw a lethal looking pistol from within his jacket and aim it at the first man who had done the insulting. Reaching for his radio, the policeman thought he best call for backup.
"We got a couple of 'em sir. In Malechu." The Situations Room was once again filled, and general Abasi was once again briefing the king. "They were picked up by some of Malechu's finest. A copper saw them picking a fight, called for back up, and in five minutes they were surrounded." The king nodded. "We've gotten some information out of them already. Basically, we're up against two threats here. The first one we've got is calling themselves the 'Hasmonean Kahanist Liberation Front'. According to the guys we picked up, they're responsible for the attack this morning on Solomon. Seems they want an all Jewish Hasmone, and they'll do whatever they can to achieve it, it seems." King David nodded, worriedly. "And the second group?" "Aaah. Those are the 'Islamic Hasmone Union'. They're, quite obviously, for an all Islamic Hasmone." The king nodded, gravely. Hasmone was a nation based on a principle of understanding between Jews and Muslims. When there was war, it could rip the nation apart, both metaphorically and literally. "What is the plan to deal with this matter?" The general bit his lip in some agitation. "Well, sir, we're going to have to fight them. But, see, here's the thing. With our current forces, we lack the manpower to handle a rebel forces, never mind two." It was true. The Hasmonean Army numbered just over 500,000 men- they used the most advanced weaponry, and were very well trained, but they were still a small army. It seemed more would be needed to defend Hasmone from its troubles. "Very well. I shall put out a message to the world. We need all of the help that we can get. Dismissed." With a curt nod, he left the room.
http://img169.imageshack.us/img169/82/hasmoneflagcp9.png
|Message of the Judeo-Islamic Holy Republic of Hasmone|
To: Nations of the world
From: King David III, Ruler and Monarch of the Judeo-Islamic Holy Republic of Hasmone
To whom it may concern,
It is with a most heavy heart that I address you today. The nation of Hasmone has been marred by tragedy over the past few days- two seperate bombings by terrorist groups within our fair nation. These groups- the Hasmonean Kahanist Liberation Front and the Islamic Hasmone Union- seek to rip Hasmone apart by creating a nation devoid of the unity we now possess. Hasmone is a nation founded upon the principals of Judaic and Islamic cooperation, and these groups seek to undermine that cooperation that we hold so dear. The capability of the Hasmonean army is limited, and we cannot handle on our own two threats of the level which we have faced. Please, I ask you- give us aid so that we may retain our nation's peace and prosperity. We have little to offer in return save for our eternal gratitude towards whatever nation should choose to help us in our time of dire need.
Respectfully yours,
http://img147.imageshack.us/img147/4893/signaturekingdavidhw9.png
King David III
Ruler and Monarch of the Judeo-Islamic Holy Republic of Hasmone
The city center of Solomon was washed with a cloud of heat as the sun beat down from above. The soft, dark colors of the surrounding houses blended with the bright greens and blues of the merchant's tents. The sounds of children's laughter mingled with the scolding of mothers and the calls of vendors, hawking their wares. the wafting scent of something spicy with lamb drifted through the air, and down the street, causing several passing men to stop and inhale deeply of the intoxicating smell. Two men rode along on bicycles, the tan of the first's skin in contrast to the darker tones of his friend's. A group of small and well dressed but rowdy children passed by, shepherded by a bedraggled looking mother in a shawl. Two men emerged from the small mosque at the end of the street, and exchanged nods with two other men passing by, keepahs perched atop their heads. It was an idyllic scene, and one could almost believe it was something out of a fairytale. Suddenly, a rippling boom passed through the square, and that self same fairytale halted. Faces turned instinctively towards the sky as the sound of screaming began to rise. And then, suddenly, fire. In a flash of fire, smoke, and pain, the entire scene had changed. The idyllic city center was ripped asunder. Bodies lay, charred by the blast. Flames licked down the sides of the brightly colored tents, and panic reigned. The screams and cries rent the sky as below, the city center was painted red with blood and flame.
King David III was by no means an imposing figure. He lacked the long flowing beard or menacing stare of his predecessors, and was in fact clean-shaven and had a stare which would make you trust him very much in one of those infomercials that sells 250 piece sets of vegetable slicers. He rocked softly back and forth on the wicker love-seat he loved so dearly, his wife Alima's head resting gently against his chest. Looking out from the balcony on which he sat, he could see the vast economic center of Solomon, the bustling trade center which kept his tiny kingdom going in her economic right. He smiled wistfully, a small part of him longing for the days as a prince, when he could go walking in that city, taking in the colors and sights and sounds of the people he was destined to rule. A gentle wafting breeze passed over him, and the moment would have been perfect, had it not been at that very moment that Aban Burkai, the Minister of Defense, chosen that inconvenient moment to come bursting through the door, panting and out of breath. He was a shortish, balding man, with dark tanned skin and a wild, bushy mustache which would be registered as a deadly weapon in several countries. His breathlessness came from a combination of the 5 flights of stairs he had sprinted up to reach the king, and his general anxiety with the world. Of course, as David's father would say, it was that anxiety that had kept the Kingdom safe ever since Aban had taken office some 25 years previously. And now, he was very anxious, and the look on his face registered that with the king. Rising from the wicker love-seat, he strode purposefully from the balcony, leaving Alima to continue resting peacefully. Following Aban down the steps, David wondered what had happened to cause the man such consternation. But, as the two entered the situations room, the issue became violently apparent.
His name was Chaim Har-Segor. At the age of 42, his hair was showing streaks of gray, and as he clipped his keepah into his hair, he felt that he was maybe growing too old for this. The mirror stared back at him, reflecting a tired face, li.ned with age and marked with liver spots. From behind glasses, two gray eyes stared back, radiating a quiet intelligence, showing a hint of the man who hid behind the facade of someone much older and tireder then he truly was. Behind him, a door slid open, and Chaim turned from the mirror to face two men, both in similarly simple, Judaic garb. He nodded sternly to the first, who spoke with a low, guttural voice. "It has been done sir. Just as you wished it." Chaim nodded. "How did the process go?" The first man responded, his companion remaining stoically silent. "We set up around 7 o'clock this morning. We hid on a rooftop, out of sight. When high noon came around, and the square was filled with people, we opened fire. The mortars were deadly enough- I estimate 7 dead, 20 or so wounded." Chaim nodded, in an almost mechanical way. He turned and switched on the tiny television which sat in the room, and it crackled into life on HNN, the Hasmone News Network. He watched with a detached, emotionless face, the footage of the carnage which had been reeked in downtown Solomon that morning. The fire from the sky, the burned bodies, the crying mothers and sobbing children. The carnage he had ordered to be done. Sighing, he switched the set off. "All, gentleman, is done for a reason. All is done for Adonai, and in the name of Adonai." he turned to face the two men. "Find 3 others, and head for Malechu. Scope out your next target, and Adonai be with you." The two men turned, and left without a sound.
David was ushered into the tiny situations room by Aban, and the sight that met his eyes caused him to halt. David Aharoni, the mayor of Hasmone was seated there, a look of stunned shock still frozen on his face. There, too, was Hafsa Abasi, the general of the Hasmone army, a look of cold determination on his face. Taking one look at the stunned faces in the room, David spoke. "What happened?" David began to explain, but Hafsa cut him off. "Let me, David." He stood smartly to attention, but David beckoned him to be seated. "No need for the formality here, Hafsa. Tell me what happened." Hafsa relaxed. "Your Highness, there was an attack this morning at a little after noon, in the city center." David's face grew visibly paler as he took in the news. "What sort of attack?" "We don't know who they were." responded the general. "We found several 60 millimeter mortars stationed on a roof opposite the square, and we believe that's what they used." David nodded, stunned by the news. "Have there been any more attacks?" he asked, words choked. The general shook his head. "None have been reported. Whoever has done this, we don't know who or why." Suddenly, the door burst open. An aid rushed in, hair slicked back from perspiration, appearing visibly shaken. Pausing to catch his breath, he managed to wheeze out, "Your majesty... there's been... another...attack...in Adina..." David rose from his chair, knocking it over. "Tell me, what happened?" The aid caught his breath in short gasps. "RPG fire... 2 dead so far, more wounded..." David strode towards the door, but was stopped short by the aids gasped addition. "And your majesty...they're saying...they're saying...it was a different group." David burst through the door, leaving the exhausted aid to collapse into the chair.
The darkness in this room was absolute, cut only by a single, burning candle. This, however, was just the way Khawlah Amir liked it. He meditated quietly to himself, a lone figure in the darkness. Slowly, he rose from his resting position, and stood, stretching slowly in the darkness. Finally, he turned, and stepped out through the door into a long stone hallway. Proceeding down it with the grace and speed of a man going somewhere, he strode briskly towards the door at the end of the hallway. He slid back the lock, and emerged out into a sandy clearing where perhaps 50 men sat arrayed in groups of various sizes. Hands clutched AK-47's, and several sat idyly polishing their guns as a way to pass the time. Amir stood before them, all eyes suddenly riveted on him. He took a moment to take in the feeling of being in the spotlight, the center of attention, and then began to speak. "My friends, my fellow servants of Allah, you have done well. You who have fought so bravely against our enemy, who have stood against us. But, I say to you, my brothers and friends, are they in the right?" A chorus of nos and boos rang out from the crowd. "We are in the right! We fight for the best of Hasmone! For the best of our country! In the name of Allah!" Cheers and cries of "Allahu Ackbar!" filled the sky. Khawlah smiled, and beckoned three men from the crowd. "I trust it all went well in Adina, then?" The men nodded. "Oh, yes. We found the perfect time to strike, and it all went according to plan." Khawlah nodded, a satisfied look on his face. "Very well. Take 2 others, and head for Malechu. I want you to prepare for your next attack. Fair well brothers." He saluted them, and turned to walk back inside.
The sun was hot over Malechu, but the feeling was subdued. The two attacks, first in Solomon and then in Adina, had left an air of sadness hanging like some musty, day old smell. People moved through the streets in quietly, and nobody stopped to chat or say hello. The only loud sound was that of a truck, pulling down the road onto main street. Here were Chaim's men, in to scope out a new sight for their next attack. And, down the street a ways, were the men of Khawlah Amir, on foot, and with guns hidden under jackets. The two were bound to meet if one did not turn, and so it was that dead center of the long high street, the two parties came to a stop. Chaim's men honked their horn, but Kahwlah's men just laughed. One of the men in the truck leaned out of the window and yelled, "Get out of the way, raghead!" The man the insult was directed at swore and began to leap forward, held back by his fellows. A police officer over on the corner saw the scuffle, and moved in to break it up. That is, he moved in until he was the second man draw a lethal looking pistol from within his jacket and aim it at the first man who had done the insulting. Reaching for his radio, the policeman thought he best call for backup.
"We got a couple of 'em sir. In Malechu." The Situations Room was once again filled, and general Abasi was once again briefing the king. "They were picked up by some of Malechu's finest. A copper saw them picking a fight, called for back up, and in five minutes they were surrounded." The king nodded. "We've gotten some information out of them already. Basically, we're up against two threats here. The first one we've got is calling themselves the 'Hasmonean Kahanist Liberation Front'. According to the guys we picked up, they're responsible for the attack this morning on Solomon. Seems they want an all Jewish Hasmone, and they'll do whatever they can to achieve it, it seems." King David nodded, worriedly. "And the second group?" "Aaah. Those are the 'Islamic Hasmone Union'. They're, quite obviously, for an all Islamic Hasmone." The king nodded, gravely. Hasmone was a nation based on a principle of understanding between Jews and Muslims. When there was war, it could rip the nation apart, both metaphorically and literally. "What is the plan to deal with this matter?" The general bit his lip in some agitation. "Well, sir, we're going to have to fight them. But, see, here's the thing. With our current forces, we lack the manpower to handle a rebel forces, never mind two." It was true. The Hasmonean Army numbered just over 500,000 men- they used the most advanced weaponry, and were very well trained, but they were still a small army. It seemed more would be needed to defend Hasmone from its troubles. "Very well. I shall put out a message to the world. We need all of the help that we can get. Dismissed." With a curt nod, he left the room.
http://img169.imageshack.us/img169/82/hasmoneflagcp9.png
|Message of the Judeo-Islamic Holy Republic of Hasmone|
To: Nations of the world
From: King David III, Ruler and Monarch of the Judeo-Islamic Holy Republic of Hasmone
To whom it may concern,
It is with a most heavy heart that I address you today. The nation of Hasmone has been marred by tragedy over the past few days- two seperate bombings by terrorist groups within our fair nation. These groups- the Hasmonean Kahanist Liberation Front and the Islamic Hasmone Union- seek to rip Hasmone apart by creating a nation devoid of the unity we now possess. Hasmone is a nation founded upon the principals of Judaic and Islamic cooperation, and these groups seek to undermine that cooperation that we hold so dear. The capability of the Hasmonean army is limited, and we cannot handle on our own two threats of the level which we have faced. Please, I ask you- give us aid so that we may retain our nation's peace and prosperity. We have little to offer in return save for our eternal gratitude towards whatever nation should choose to help us in our time of dire need.
Respectfully yours,
http://img147.imageshack.us/img147/4893/signaturekingdavidhw9.png
King David III
Ruler and Monarch of the Judeo-Islamic Holy Republic of Hasmone