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Post by Sekot on Jun 27, 2012 15:02:55 GMT -5
Road to Xibalba Map: Continents Plus Size: Huge Speed: Epic Victory Condition: Domination Difficulty: Prince ((These images are going to be huge because I'm bad at figuring out sizing, so have fun! Sorry if your screen is tiny)) Welcome to the beginning of the soon to be mighty Mayan Empire. I am K'inich Janaab' Pakal, ruler of all that which lays under the Sun. And all shall be enslaved to my mighty kingdom, furthering our golden glory. Such great sacrifices shall be made that the earth will have its fill and the mountains shall be stained in blood.
The Road to Xibalba is long and winding. Let us push our enemies before us and carve out our story before the owl calls our name.
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Post by Sekot on Jun 27, 2012 21:26:13 GMT -5
The fires raged, great flames that reached toward the night sky. The moon above hung low, watching....waiting. The priests began the slow ascent atop the hill where a pile of clean, polished stones stood stacked. They were dressed in ceremonial garb, elaborate colored headdresses and faces painted in the shape of various animals, notably the eagle and the panther. Within their hands they carried earthen bowls. The soft chanting of the warrior caste sat below, their heads raised in watchful awe. Drums rolled as the priests reached the apex, placing their bowls on the stone table. Upon that table was their king, his eyes shut in fitful, eternal sleep. They prayed to the gods of thunder and moon, of sun and death. Each of the four priests raised their left arms, and with their right picked up a ceremonial knife. The chanting grew to a climax, a peek that met with those drums and a great resounding sound echoed across the plains. The river itself beneath them seemed to rush and churn at their sound. The priests yelled as one, and then took their knives to their arms. They cut a long line down to their chests, and then leveled their arms above the body of their king. The body soon ran red. With one final cry the priests raised the blades to their throat and ended their lives. The crowd grew silent, the drums ceased their beating. It was said that even the sound of the insects, of the cicada and fly, were silenced. And then he opened his eyes. The Great Lord Pacal opened his eyes and rose from the stone table. Covered in blood, he raised his own arms to the heavens. The crowd cheered at his return, were afraid of his presence, of his great frightful form. "I am your God-King, returned from the Land of the Sun to lead you to your glory." He lowered his arms and looked up his people who bowed their heads in absolute reverence. "Unto me, my children, shall we unite the world and create so many sacrifices that the world itself will be drowned." And so it was that the sight of that holy renewal became the first city of the Mayan Empire.
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Post by Sekot on Jun 29, 2012 11:06:20 GMT -5
Pacal surveyed the land from his beginning, surveyed the land and the river. He was pleased. The land was fertile and valuable. Already he coveted the great fields of wild cotton, but it was not yet time to make the harvest. His beginnings were humble, and he wanted more. He began work immediately on the training of scouts, of warriors, and sent them out into the wild, blessed by the gods only Pacal knew. For now. His people were wary, it was not everyday that a God-King rose from the dead. Even if the weak willed priests who had barely kept these settlers together had commanded they listen. But there were enough so enraptured by him that they listened, and that was all Pacal needed. For now. Pacal had dreams, he dreamed of an empire that cut across the vast plains that stretched all around Palenque. He dreamed of holding so many vast riches that he was the envy of those around him. He was not so foolish to believe that he was alone in this world, there were enemies of the Maya that lived out in the beyond. He would find them, he would crush them. He was a patient man. It did not take long for one of the warriors to send back word of an ancient ruin complete with weapons, other ruins complete with refugees and artifacts. Palenque grew and soon were ready to listen to their King's first decree. And, his people were confronted by their first outsider. Pacal grew quiet at the approach of the Korean emissary. His people were wary. There was no way to discern whether or not there was anything of value from this strange man. There were some who urged to crush the man where he stood. To wipe his army away. But no. Pacal was a patient man, and he knew the value of diplomacy. He greeted the man and let him go, ready to meet him again soon enough.
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Post by Sekot on Jul 3, 2012 14:51:17 GMT -5
The Great Pacal conferred with his private priests, and he decided it had become time to unleash the beginning of his vision in the form of an organized religion. Without it, he was certain his people would grow restless. Already, it was difficult to ensure their happiness. While the plains were fertile, there was little in the way that he produce beyond the fields of cotton already available. Pacal, in conference, had decided that the most necessary goal for the time being was the ability to produce. With only the one city, and only within the flat plains, his people's ability to work was lax. Too lax. Production was going to be a problem for his great nation. He had valuable priests, intelligent men and women working within the shrines. Soon, they promised, he would have the ability to cultivate those fields of cotton. In the meantime, a loyal band of highly trained soldiers had stumbled across another group of foreigners. They themselves were on a mission to find the Koreans. They claimed they were the Huns. ((I forgot to get a picture)). Another civilization. Another potential enemy. Pacal was not happy. It was inevitable, but worrying nevertheless. His people were growing restless in Palenque. It was time they expand beyond their single city.
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