Post by Belthire on Oct 23, 2010 17:31:08 GMT -5
Once upon a time....
A shipful of pilgrims wandered the seas for a long time. Their numbers thinned each day, as all the food was consumed, so every now and then a few of them would fall, fatigued and underfed. Suddenly, An Island emerged from the endless horizon! "We are saved!", they shouted, putting oars into the dark water and working their way through the tides. Their so-called capitain, Prophet M'embe, Which convinced them to take on this journey in the first place, felt the utmost satisfaction as the keel of their ship grazed into the soft, black island sand.
Those ten years of wandering seemed like a lifetime to him. Only thing he remembers is the everpresent crowd surrounding their ships in the dock back home; the King's judgement, stating loudly that "All believers in false ideals and gods, which we have hitherto suffered, should be exiled immediately and sent to ships and dragged to the Great ocean, For they are not willing to support the King and the Country and they constantly undermine the authorities of the Great church of Valor." He remembers the hardened and devout looks in the eyes of his fellow companions. A dozen of ships was cast away that time; now only three of them landed on the shore of promised land.
Prophet M'embe knew what was coming to him. Not only they have claimed a land of their own, one of spiritual freedom and tolerance, land of churchless religion, but also a land of responsibility, self-awarenes, justice and, if not the most important, land of hard work. Here, they will start anew, men and women expelled from their motherland for the love of spiritual freedom; here they will lay foundations of the state they wished their homeland to be. Weary and sick after the long journey, they deserve much needed rest. But still, the journey is far from over.
...
The day was coming to an end. As the seagulss crossed the sky above his head, Prophet M'embe, Grey haired, old black man, nodded his head as if he wanted to shoo all the worries away. He sat on the terrace of his house, One of a thousand wooden houses on this westward facing beach. He grinned as he looked into the setting sun, for a glimpse thinking of the far away land they all came from. It was this beach the first landed on. Ten years ago. Tough ten years of building the colony and watching over people drew all his powers away. Once a mighty, great man, whose look in the eyes many a soldier couldn't withstand, was now more a "gramps" for the colony's many children. He didn't mind. Looking back at those years, he was happy with his work. The colony was almost finished. every family had their house. Island was lush and green, forest were full of game, fishermen returned everyday wih nets overflowing with the biggest sardines he ever saw. They called the colony Belthire - pretty land in their language. They chose the one to lead them - Wolfgang, The first duke of Belthire. Traditions arose, according to everyone's wishes. Celebrating spirituality with songs and dance, in the streets, not in some church or temple, that was the dream. As M'embe used to say, Holiness comes not from sky, not from earth, but from every our heart and mind. Through M'embism the duchy was united and stood ready to accept any challenge there might be.
A shipful of pilgrims wandered the seas for a long time. Their numbers thinned each day, as all the food was consumed, so every now and then a few of them would fall, fatigued and underfed. Suddenly, An Island emerged from the endless horizon! "We are saved!", they shouted, putting oars into the dark water and working their way through the tides. Their so-called capitain, Prophet M'embe, Which convinced them to take on this journey in the first place, felt the utmost satisfaction as the keel of their ship grazed into the soft, black island sand.
Those ten years of wandering seemed like a lifetime to him. Only thing he remembers is the everpresent crowd surrounding their ships in the dock back home; the King's judgement, stating loudly that "All believers in false ideals and gods, which we have hitherto suffered, should be exiled immediately and sent to ships and dragged to the Great ocean, For they are not willing to support the King and the Country and they constantly undermine the authorities of the Great church of Valor." He remembers the hardened and devout looks in the eyes of his fellow companions. A dozen of ships was cast away that time; now only three of them landed on the shore of promised land.
Prophet M'embe knew what was coming to him. Not only they have claimed a land of their own, one of spiritual freedom and tolerance, land of churchless religion, but also a land of responsibility, self-awarenes, justice and, if not the most important, land of hard work. Here, they will start anew, men and women expelled from their motherland for the love of spiritual freedom; here they will lay foundations of the state they wished their homeland to be. Weary and sick after the long journey, they deserve much needed rest. But still, the journey is far from over.
...
The day was coming to an end. As the seagulss crossed the sky above his head, Prophet M'embe, Grey haired, old black man, nodded his head as if he wanted to shoo all the worries away. He sat on the terrace of his house, One of a thousand wooden houses on this westward facing beach. He grinned as he looked into the setting sun, for a glimpse thinking of the far away land they all came from. It was this beach the first landed on. Ten years ago. Tough ten years of building the colony and watching over people drew all his powers away. Once a mighty, great man, whose look in the eyes many a soldier couldn't withstand, was now more a "gramps" for the colony's many children. He didn't mind. Looking back at those years, he was happy with his work. The colony was almost finished. every family had their house. Island was lush and green, forest were full of game, fishermen returned everyday wih nets overflowing with the biggest sardines he ever saw. They called the colony Belthire - pretty land in their language. They chose the one to lead them - Wolfgang, The first duke of Belthire. Traditions arose, according to everyone's wishes. Celebrating spirituality with songs and dance, in the streets, not in some church or temple, that was the dream. As M'embe used to say, Holiness comes not from sky, not from earth, but from every our heart and mind. Through M'embism the duchy was united and stood ready to accept any challenge there might be.
