Tales from the Unknown Lands [VOIDED 2017 ZUKCHIVA]

[Zukchiva]

Musika Village
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Chief Zor was having a nice nap when he was rudely awakened.

“Sir, sir wake! Sir!”

Chief Zor sighed as he shook his head. He had always hated waking up abruptly. He got up from the floor tiredly. He was aching and tired all over his body. His job meant he had no choice but to answer the call of the villagers despite wanting to do the opposite. Sometimes he regretted being born into his bloodline.

Chief Zor looked at his advisor and asked in a not-so-polite manner, “What the hell do you want this early before sun-up!”

For a moment the advisor looked stricken, then remembered what he had come to tell his Chief. “Sir, there is an incoming raiding force from the direction of the Sun!”

Instantly, Zor grabbed his leather tunic and donned it, only pausing to take his sword. His dagger was already strapped on to his thigh as per tradition and practicality. He exited his large hut and got onto his horse. His advisor began to walk before having Zor roughly grabbed him and threw him on the horse.

“We have no time to waste!” he barked. With those words, he rode his horse into a gallop.

Soon enough, they reached the place where the village men were gathering. Many were missing, as they were still in the early morning hunt for food in the forest. Zor looked around at them, when he heard hoofbeats in the distance. He heard the villagers of Bagatork coming towards him, but their reinforcements will arrive too late.

Zor looked at his men, and said “You know what to do.”

Suddenly a great horn call was heard, and Zor’s men began running towards the raiders, while Zor accompanied them on horseback.
His head began to dip in tiredness as the armies approached. Noticing this, one of his men asked “Leader, are yo-“and was stabbed in the throat with a spear.

Chief Zor shook his head and realized they were in the middle of the battle. He got up, and with that saved his life. The spear that had been coming for him stuck his horse, who died on the spot. The Chief jumped off as his horse toppled over. He took out his own spear, and his kuthi or dagger, and began to run. He sliced and blocked spear strokes as he desperately searched for the leader, lest his men by slayed and the village taken.

So be it through luck or coincidence, he locked eyes with their leader, who was on horseback.

Chief Zor ran towards him, deflecting strikes with his kuthi as he ran towards his enemy.
All the sudden he burst into the open, made swift calculations, and threw his spear at his enemy. While he was doing so, an enemy snuck up behind him and stabbed his with a spear straight through his stomach. Before being cut down. Zor dropped to the ground, loosing his grip on his sword and kuthi as the battle raged on.

As he lay there, his life blood leaking out, he though what could have been. He wondered if he could be saved. He doubted he would if he was bleeding this much with the spear in him. He stared at all his men, still fighting the enemy gallantly.

He was able to feel the blackness closing in on him. He found himself hoping for a better future for his friends and allies. As he watched his villagers beat back the army and surrounded him. He decided that his hopes were well founded, and smiled grimly as the pain began to leave.
The villagers watched in respect as their Chief died his glorious death. They witnessed as he smiled.

Then the darkness reigned over him.

[Zukchiva]

OOC: I am aware this is an old post, but stories don’t come that often to me

Ubenki Sovi opened the door and walked into the room, where her staff was waiting. They were the beginnings of the Department of Design, which would help to make the new national flag for the upcoming nation. Along with her were five other people, two men and three females. Each from one of the six states. She sat down in her chair and stated bluntly.

“Any ideas?”

At this the designers, who were about to argue over each other, suddenly quieted. They knew this woman expected high quality work and had prepared so. Yet each were having doubts, now confronting this woman one to one.
One of the slyer designers of the group came to an idea. He asked with a calm face, “Do you have any flag ideas Ms. Sovi?”
She looked at the man with an impenetrable stare, not overbearing but all the same imposing and frightening. Sovi laid back in her chair and closed her eyes.

“To understand this flag design, you have to listen first. Listen to the tale I am about to tell you, for it concerns all our states, and more importantly the idea behind the flag. Of course, we won’t symbolize the flag on the tale, but to get an idea of it.”

Once in the wilds of the land, beyond the borders of any known village, there came to be a dark force. At first the happy villages ignored it, so isolated were they with their minor wars and happy trade with each other. But soon the darkness grew on their hearts and they became fearful. Suspicions were thrown against each other, angry looks exchanged. Hands that used to greet each other with peace now attacked in fists of war.

The times were turning towards evil and war, and the few who had goodness still in their hearts realized that something had to be done. They sent out pleas to their fellow villagers and friends, asking them to greet each other as compatriots and not as enemies. To trade and be happy as they once were. The villages heard their pleas at large yet the villagers still had evil in their hearts. They began to blame these good-hearted ones as the bane of their problems, the cause of the anger.

These good-hearted realized that the evil had taken root in their friends and made them blind. Yet, not knowing what to do, they made passioned speeches against this evil. Out of many, there was one that beat back the evil and the hate and brought back the hope and peace if even for a single moment. The speech is as follows:

“We, brothers and sisters, have recently acquired evil in our hearts. From where we once saw peace, we now see distrust and anger, fear and hatred, loss of hope and happiness. I have come here to tell you it is not so! We haven’t caused this too ourselves, nor is it from a mysterious force! What else could stop our cycle of peace and war, of how even during war we view each other with peaceful eyes! ‘Tis because of our enemies, my friends! They have come and left our village and the villages of our brethren! They spread lies and rumors at first, and began to steal, rob, and beat our own brethren, and blamed it on us! Even now, these reports of crimes are lessening, because the enemy is retreating! This is not the end my brothers, but merely the beginning.”

This speech along with many others cleared the fear in the villagers’ hearts. Soon calls for a council were heard, and six representatives were sent who were pure of heart, untouched by the evil that had befallen them.

These men met in a wise council and talked for many days and many nights. The villagers on their end began to fall under the sway of evil and fear again as they heard no word. Then fear struck the villages as they heard of a small but powerful enemy coming to attack. They had heard about this army before. This new enemy attacked villages who seemingly fell in chaos right before. Their red tattered cloaks swirled like flames around their grim faces, the yell of their army striking fear into the stoutest of men. It was here and then the council came out and told there was only one thing to do. To fight.
The fear in the villagers’ fear grew 10 times in their heart, for facing such a foe didn’t just mean their deaths. It meant the extinction of their culture. Yet in their hearts they could see that the men were right. It was time for everyone who was able to fight and take up arms. A flag was made by a hunter of one of the villages, with six dots in a circle around a white cloth. Soon variations of the flag were made everywhere, and a standard flag bearer was drafted, and the flag was official.

The white represented the peace of the surrender of evil, the dots represented the unification. Soon the two armies stood, each staring down each other. A classic battle had rebirthed itself yet again in the throes of history. Right vs Wrong. Good against evil.

Then the horn of war blew, and the fate of the villages was soon decided. Hundreds of people died in the war, and many swords were broken upon the stone. Knives were shattered, and hopes were crushed. In the end though, with the battlefield littered with fallen bodies, it was hard to see who had won.

Then people scored with wounds and dressed in blood began to stand and waved too each other! The war horn soon was blown in victory.
Then a rustling was heard nearby, and as the villagers and sparse enemy soldiers turned to look, the flag bearer stood up clumsily, and stabbed the flag into the land as a breeze fluttered past. The flag was drenched in the crimson of blood, with the six dots still glowing weakly to battle torn-eyes. This was the victory of the villages. This is our history, and our union.”

The other designers looked at her with wide eyes. Then slowly clapping was heard, faster and faster until soon a smattering of applause was heard. The designer who originally questioned Ubenki raised his hand.

“All in favor of creating a flag in this style of the story?”

And affirmative “aye” was heard all around, and that was how the flag of Zukchiva was made.