The children of Roshel remembered their history. The light skinned Shotians remembered all too well. They chose to remember the cruelty of the ancient black Tokanians and their empire. But these were only some Tokanian rulers, many northerners were good followers of Afarsu. Also, although very few claim that very many Roshlans descend from the ruling dictators of old Tokania. This made no difference to those white goats of Roshel when they took the opportunity to use the peaceful Shomans for forced labour to build their cold continent.
‘We can fight them,’ claimed a shom from Togin, ready to fight the fight for freedom. At that time around 100 cycles had passed since the arrival of Salthasos the Roshlans had developed mighty weaponry of war, gunpowder. Though this was very different from the instruments of war on Bazmarah.
The powerful Roshlans, manly from Shoti stole shoms from the continent of Shomi most notably Ramidians sold by unscrupulous Shomans to help pick topak plants and dig up nushmusa mud to make the famous beverage.
One suck slave was called by the name Besh, who hailed from Togin. This shoman worked on the topak plantations of Shoti. Besh was loyal to his kind owner but wanted desperately for freedom. Rumours had surfaced that a rebellion had begun in Thima over the northern with Roshel. Under the nose of his owner Besh gathered a group of Shomans to plan their own escape for freedom.
When the day had arrived for Besh and his twelve fellow slaves to force the owner to free them, the news from the north had reached other owners in the same region.
Besh was forced to delay his plans.
In the evening a group of white shoms rode onto the plantation on the backs of thitels. These thitel were not bred for food, but at that time for transport only. On reaching the owners tree house, some went inside and a few minutes later returned with Daees, the owner of this plantation.
‘All servants of this shom, wake up and come out here.’ This was the voice of the apparent leader of the slave owners group, a long chinned Roshlan. The slaves of Daees exited their dirty huts, including the one who arranged the escape, Besh.
Daees was screaming as the white goats threw him to the ground.
‘What are you doing? This is a disgrace. How can you treat me like this?’
‘You are planning to help your slaves to escape and join the revolution,’ said one very tall white shom.
‘Nonsense,’ cried the owner, laying on the ground.
Besh remained silent as the gang of white shoms ranted on. They grabbed the nearest slave, a dark Togonian called Silgan.
‘Your master arranged an escape, did he not?’ charged a hideous white goat.
‘I don’t know,’ answered Silgan from the ground.
‘The master was not involved in our plans,’ uttered a deep, smooth voice. A short elderly black shom was speaking.
‘Who are you?’
‘I am Besh son of Eglah,’ answered the black shomaian from Togin. ‘Our master has been good to us. We meant him no harm. We did not plan to hurt him.’
At this the master of this plantation began to laugh heavily.
‘I may have been pleasant to these blacks, but I have no love for them.’
Besh listened to his master with interest.
The lord of the plantation got up onto his thick hind legs and stood on his hoofs. He brushed himself down to address his precious slaves.
‘Your ancestors of Tokania treated white Shomaians with terror and torture and absolute tyranny. I’ll never forgive them for that. You should pay for that. That’s why I agree with slavery. I don’t want a revolution.’
The white invaders cheered loudly, pleased with the owner’s commitment to their ways.
Every white shomaian turned to enter the big house to celebrate the holt of the black shomaian revolution.
With the black shomaian back in their place, the white shoms went on their way to continue the thwarting of a revolution.
A little time after the Roshlans had left the plantation, the owner knocked on the hut of Besh.
‘Besh, I am war.’
The black shomaian watched his master. He was not moving. Daees went on.
‘I had to let them think I was on their side. I have every respect for you, and I do not blame you for the actions of your ancestors. I want to end this evil slavery. And I’m not the only one. There are a group of us Roshlans who want to end this. I tell you Besh, soon the black Shomaians will be free.’
Besh was looking harsh, but he spoke calmly and true.
‘I knew that.’
The landscape from the beginning was breathtaking. Colours white, orange, blue filled the horizon. The mountains of all Shomaia grew varieties of vegetables and fruit. Those on Evey were cultivated from the foundation of that nation.
The plant on the whole grew at the foot of the mountain. But splatters of edible fruit including topak and morkosh, could be found along the verges, supplying food for the creatures that lived there.
Mountains of Shomaia also came in a variety of colours. Orange, blue, purple, red, and at the tip of the highest mountains, white snow.
From the early period of Dorano, the citizens of Ramid dug into the mountains to create shops, official building, schools and universities. These structures become more common as time moved on, spreading throughout the planet.
They have ruled from the founding of Maro, yet Afarsu is the true emperor. Gorx believed he was the rightful emperor of Somalia, but he was very wrong.
Emperors rule a vast area, a collection of states and territories. Maro was chosen by Tokan to be his primary state, his seat of power. He named the country after his daughter Marah. The kings of Maro who came after queen Marah, were proclaimed EMPEROR or khinena (king of kings). This title represented the Creator.
Later the commanders of Tokania named themselves Emperor. They took on the full titles as ruler of all the realms, beyond Shomaia and Bazmarah. They had no right or reason for this act, but one: the voices of the invisible trogip influenced them.
Doorways to other realms are not common on Shomaia or Dorano yet have played an important role in the history of the realm. David and his family journeyed through such an object on his return to a changed Shomaia with a new name. Taliosh ventured through a similar object when she travelled to the past of Shomaia.
When Lohos first travelled to Bazmarah, the eastern river was his route. An indescribable experience in which the hero was on Shomaia one moment, then Bazmarah the next. A type of translation rather than journey. This mode was used on Lohos’s first return and Blasgo when he travelled through many lands including Bazmarah. Often dreams and unsettling experiences precede a journey across realms.
There are also various side effect when one arrives on a new realm. The traveler may transform into the alien species, full with language and appearance, or most likely remain in their original form even it is for minutes or seconds.
When Bazmaran astronauts captain Durant and captain Cush arrived on Dorano they remained the size and appearance of humans, small and smooth. Then later some month or so later, the two grew into full sized Shomaians antlers and all. However the astronauts had not travelled via a portal but through space.
This lord of the wusha, servants of the creator is a mischievous yet intelligent character who Lohos knew in the days of Shomaia. Arno can appear on other realms to creatures of importance. This was permitted by Afarsu.
He was the weird hairless cat who stole David’s watch, just at the beginning of his journey.
The wusha had the appearance of the blue trogip before they turned from the creator and stole their bodies. The wusha took the form of the ushai from that time. At the end of time Balea returned to them their original bodies.
In a time of peace during the reign of Afarsu, a Tokanian couple by the names of Bofna and Krono prepared the evening meal and awaited a guest they had met during the coming of Salthasos to Shomaia. The knock came at the door and a white Maran entered the humble home of the northerners.
‘Salthakh,’ exclaimed the jolly black Tokanians glad to meet a southerner for the first time.
‘Salthasuv,’ returned the elegant goat, withdrawn yet producing a smile.
Krono was already sitting, as her husband brought a metal tray full with steaming nushmusa, savoury biscuits and topak fruit. After Krono poured out the traditional hot beverage the white shom did not say thank you as there is no word for such in the shomaian language but uttered the word nushmusa dryly and took a biscuit to dip into the drink made with diced thitel meat.
‘What did you do in Maro?’ asked Krono innocently. The shom opposite sipped the hot brewed dirt before declaring mechanically.
‘I was first assistant to king Beulah.’
‘Truly?’ burped Bofna, almost dropping his nushmusa. Krona sighed and standing on her stumps to offer their guest more biscuits, asked.
‘We didn’t ask you your name. What is it?’
The white shom who served the king of Maro was elegant, tallish, his skin shinny and fascinating to the Tokanians, mumbled and fidgeted before he uttered in his regional accent,
‘Atnaj.’
The meat is a delicacy of both Shomaia and modern Dorano and has sustained generations. From early times after the beasts ceased speaking, only second to the pumpkush, thitel meat has been utilized for nourishment on this realm.
These amazing beasts have the appearance of an aardvark to a Bazmaran, yet much bigger, with the male of the species possessing six legs. The thick set animals also bare antlers and battle just as the Shomaians do.
Thimans are particularly partial to this meat, cutting into thick chunks and cooking over a sparkling fire for only a few moments. But also a delicacy among this same nation was to eat the meat raw. That practice eventually died out. Other nations cook the meat for longer yet eat with their paws.
The Iced Wall to Nowhere, or to give its shomaian name Shelekrazid Umrah, is the thick line of frozen liquid that runs along the southern border to the coldest country of the ancient realm, Oku.
No shom had known what lied beyond the giant border, but some claimed another realm existed behind the ice.
Some shoms had attempted the climb that wall, only to return, unable to withstand the freezing conditions.
One famous expedition taken by two Okans who returned with a tale that has become legend on that nation.
Tuno and Joni together with a band of assistants ventured the wall. Tuno, a red shomaian relayed the journey in his book, Ice of History.
We began our journey to the wall from Glost, the southern city of Oku then upon our pads walked to our destination.
Ahead of me Joni went. Every step we took became colder and colder. Two of our crew requested to return home at this point. I honored their request, so they left us. Joni who had travelled several paces ahead stopped. When I reached him I asked.
‘Is there a problem, Joni?’
‘The wall is there, just ahead of us, Tuno. Look.’
‘I calculated we are a very far distance from the wall,’ I answered. But we were looking at the high white mass, not one hundred steps from where we stood. And I was freezing cold, despite the fact we Okans are built to withstand the lowest of temperatures.
‘Well, we are here now,’ I suggested. ‘We will move forward. ‘So we made the final trek to the ancient block of ice. Four of us stood with some fear at the foot of the climb were about to make. We emptied our
Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 18.05.2021
ISBN: 978-3-7487-8317-6
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updates and explanations of the realm of Shomaia and Dorano.