Gwyn chan 'r Gwyll
2008-08-23, 07:54 PM
I'm not sure exactly where this should go, as it's a story based on a game, but, meh, here's as good as anywhere.
The Omanid Caliphate?
Volume One, That is Entitled ‘Of Dreams, That Which Gives Hope.’
The Introduction
1162 AD
June 25th
Muscat, a city in modern-day Oman.
In a non-descript mud-brick house, not far from the market where the Arab nomads would sell their live-stock, history was in the making. Noone in that humble abode could have guessed it then, because it was not the type of history you could see, or feel. Nobody then knew, not the dog at the foot of the bed, nor the young boy curled up next to the dog, not the young man turning restlessly in his hard bed in the next room, nor the young girl, destined to be the bride of some man she has not yet met, nor even the tired out wife, who worked all day long in the kitchen. The only one who might have had maybe some inkling of foresight that night was at the moment lying in bed, motionless, staring at the dry ceiling, but not seeing it, mulling over that which he had just seen. He had been doing so for several hours, since midnight.
He did so because he had had a dream. It was not a particularly disturbing dream. It was, in fact, quite a nice dream. It was not the man’s usual dream, that of a united Omani people; in almost every village, men had that dream, though each imagined their own village at the head. Technically the Great Imam ruled over all of the Omani, but he was weak, and many gave him no heed.
No, this was a new dream. He dreamt not only of a united Omani people, but of a united, prosperous, and powerful Omani people, with all the money of all the Arabian and Indian traders lowing the spice routes of the Indian Ocean, and all of the men of the Arabian Peninsula, be he Arab or Oman, Yemen of Bedouin, storming through Persia of old, overthrowing the Abbasid Caliphate, and, in its place, erecting a new Caliphate, and Omanid Caliphate!
What a dream! What a gloriously lucid vision! But to get there, would require so many things, things that a mere Imam could not hope to attain!
What’s this, an Imam plotting against the voice of Allah on earth, the descendant of Mohammed and the leader of all Islam, the Caliph in Baghdad! What foolishness! But yet…
He sighed, and got out of bed. His movements woke his wife, who sat up, and yawned, “Murshed, what’s wrong?”
He began wrapping his headscarf around his head in a turban, “I’m just going out for a breath of fresh air. Go back to sleep.”
She was not satisfied with his answer, “It’s still night-time.”
Murshed did not turn to answer her, saying as he left the bedroom, “Then I shall wear a coat. Go back to sleep, Fatima.”
He stepped out into the street. A cold breeze met his face; the sun had not yet risen to warm the desert.
They say that a star fell, and as he beheld it, he changed…
How did he change? Will his dream become a reality? Will he change history? Find out as soon as I finish writing the next section of...
The Omanid Caliphate?
The Omanid Caliphate?
Volume One, That is Entitled ‘Of Dreams, That Which Gives Hope.’
The Introduction
1162 AD
June 25th
Muscat, a city in modern-day Oman.
In a non-descript mud-brick house, not far from the market where the Arab nomads would sell their live-stock, history was in the making. Noone in that humble abode could have guessed it then, because it was not the type of history you could see, or feel. Nobody then knew, not the dog at the foot of the bed, nor the young boy curled up next to the dog, not the young man turning restlessly in his hard bed in the next room, nor the young girl, destined to be the bride of some man she has not yet met, nor even the tired out wife, who worked all day long in the kitchen. The only one who might have had maybe some inkling of foresight that night was at the moment lying in bed, motionless, staring at the dry ceiling, but not seeing it, mulling over that which he had just seen. He had been doing so for several hours, since midnight.
He did so because he had had a dream. It was not a particularly disturbing dream. It was, in fact, quite a nice dream. It was not the man’s usual dream, that of a united Omani people; in almost every village, men had that dream, though each imagined their own village at the head. Technically the Great Imam ruled over all of the Omani, but he was weak, and many gave him no heed.
No, this was a new dream. He dreamt not only of a united Omani people, but of a united, prosperous, and powerful Omani people, with all the money of all the Arabian and Indian traders lowing the spice routes of the Indian Ocean, and all of the men of the Arabian Peninsula, be he Arab or Oman, Yemen of Bedouin, storming through Persia of old, overthrowing the Abbasid Caliphate, and, in its place, erecting a new Caliphate, and Omanid Caliphate!
What a dream! What a gloriously lucid vision! But to get there, would require so many things, things that a mere Imam could not hope to attain!
What’s this, an Imam plotting against the voice of Allah on earth, the descendant of Mohammed and the leader of all Islam, the Caliph in Baghdad! What foolishness! But yet…
He sighed, and got out of bed. His movements woke his wife, who sat up, and yawned, “Murshed, what’s wrong?”
He began wrapping his headscarf around his head in a turban, “I’m just going out for a breath of fresh air. Go back to sleep.”
She was not satisfied with his answer, “It’s still night-time.”
Murshed did not turn to answer her, saying as he left the bedroom, “Then I shall wear a coat. Go back to sleep, Fatima.”
He stepped out into the street. A cold breeze met his face; the sun had not yet risen to warm the desert.
They say that a star fell, and as he beheld it, he changed…
How did he change? Will his dream become a reality? Will he change history? Find out as soon as I finish writing the next section of...
The Omanid Caliphate?