Lands of Red and Gold, Act II
- Thread starter Jared
- Start date
In theory forests could be lost due to a desire for timber as fuel. In practice this is unlikely to be a problem because most of the states that would need fuel already have thriving coppicing industries that are used to produce both timber and charcoal. (Tjibarr, in particular.). Deforestation may be a problem in *Tasmania, but not really on the mainland.
Bronze essentially means the Patjimunra and the Tasmanian societies, amongst those states likely to be producing cannon. The others have access to iron, with bronze being only a specialised metal among them.
Casting bronze cannon would be possible in the Patjimunra, I suppose. They at least have an abundance of coal for fuel, which also helps. Although they need to import the tin, and that may be vulnerable to disruptions closer to the source.
Yes.
Tjibarr's predecessors discovered zinc as a by-product of silver mining in *Broken Hill, a long time ago. They use it for various purposes, notably brass musical instruments.
I'm not sure whether Tasmania will be used to mine zinc. Too many difficulties in mining zinc, and the market for zinc/brass is small. But Tjibarr definitely will be, at least at Broken Hill. (I'm not sure if the other zinc deposits in Tjibarri territory will be extractable- from memory, I think they have an ore which needs a different extraction process.)
Yes; perfumes, dyes and resins are valuable exports from the Five Rivers. Or at least they were in the pre-Houtmanian era; the plagues have destroyed most of that market.
I haven't worked out every ingredient in those perfumes, but wattle flowers would be a major component (they are used as such even in OTL). Musk (from the musk duck) is also a valuable component.
Lands of Red and Gold #102: Under the Blood-Stained Banner
Lands of Red and Gold #102: Under the Blood-Stained Banner
“Be of one people and one vision, that you may conquer your enemies and bring them to harmony.”
- Attributed to the Hunter
* * *
August 1699
Cankoona [Toowoomba, QLD], the Neeburra [Darling Downs]
Jakandanda, son of Mutjigonga, priest, father and sometimes war-leader, sat on his priest’s chair where it had been placed atop the ridge. Such had been his habit for the last few winters. Let the younger men see to the cattle, horses and ducks that needed to be grazed and watered. Here, amidst the heights, he could pray and contemplate, if he chose, or just watch the land, which he often preferred.
Much of the land around was pasture dotted by occasional trees, kept as open country by regular burning during the spring and autumn fire seasons. To the north-west, below the ridge, was a great expanse of swamp, dotted with reeds. He always found that sight soothing; a reminder that not all water needed to be drilled for beneath the ground, as was so common nowadays. The swamp teemed with birds – he saw several in flight as he glanced over – watered the horses and cattle when needed, and in dire times the women could harvest the reeds for food [1].
From his vantage, Jakandanda was naturally the first to see the riders approaching. Twenty or so men on horseback, with a greater number of riderless horses trailing behind. Good news, then; twenty-two riders had set out to raid the far south, and most had returned. With both North-Men [Yalatji] and South-Men [Butjupa] growing fewer every year, losing any rider was a setback. A raid where even five riders died was a tragedy, no matter how much plunder it brought back; good men were all but impossible to replace. With true fortune, all raiders would be returning, and the missing two men were merely guarding the rear.
As the riders drew closer, Jakandanda recognised the figure of Mowarin at their head. Easy enough to spot; no-one else rode quite like that, or had such height and bearing. What he could see of the other horses looked promising, too. The saddle-bags looked fuller than they should be, since the provisions would have been used during the raid. Given how long the raiders had been away, the saddle-bags must be full of plunder, not food. So the raid on Yigutji, on the River-Men, must have been a triumph.
When the riders came closer still, Jakandanda felt a twinge in his stomach. Mowarin appeared bereft of life. Solemn; a word which had never fit him before. Was this the same bold, life-filled youth who set out on this raid, as he had set out on so many others before? Where was the smile that could bring courage to a man’s heart and desire to a woman’s?
When the first riders dismounted, Jakandanda asked, “Where is Burren? Is he guarding the rear?”
Mowarin bowed his head. “Alas, father of my heart.” The life had gone from his voice, as it had gone from his face. “The Horse-Brother, the brother of my spirt, has fallen. The River-Men slew him.”
The twinge in Jakandanda’s stomach turned into an iron ball. Cold iron. Tears followed, openly, forthrightly. Some priests claimed that men should be dignified even in grief, but Jakandanda had always rejected such nonsense. Holding grief in or adopting some so-called proper image only created greater disharmony later.
Amidst his tears, he eventually saw Mowarin holding forth an urn made from unglazed clay. “Your eldest son’s ashes, wirrulee [priest/warrior].”
Even with grief assailing him, Jakandanda could not help but study Mowarin. The youth had always had such a talent; when he was nearby, everyone and everything else seemed to become part of the background.
Solemnity remained in Mowarin. Perhaps quiet resolve, too. No sign of his usual joy or smile. Nor any sign of tears, either. Maybe he had exhausted all of his grief on the journey home, too. Or maybe part of him had forever died along with his soul-brother.
Witnessing Jakandanda’s gaze, Mowarin bowed his head again. “My soul-brother has passed, but will not be forgotten.” He waved a hand, and one of the other riders approached. The rider unfurled a banner, grey but with irregular patches of dark crimson. Of blood.
“This banner wrapped your son in his passing. It will become his remembrance. Soon, it will become a banner that the Horse-Men fear. All of them. This I vow.”
“A bold plan,” Jakandanda said, approval in his tone.
* * *
March 1701
Gundulla [Condamine, QLD], Neeburra
Occasional bursts of smoke wafted up from the blackened ground to the south. Blackened ground, that is, but not completely-burnt vegetation. The upper parts of the trees were still green. A mark of carefully controlled fire; the beaters had done an excellent job of steering it in the right direction. Cold fire, to use the word which his father’s father had used, although nowadays Jowarra did not think in such terms.
The land needed to be managed, and small fires were a part of that. Left untended, the land would overgrow; too much greenery, to the point where a fire could be large enough to kill all in its path, with no chance of outrunning it. That would be deadly for men, horses and cattle. Jowarra had enough troubles these days protecting his clan and livestock from human raiders; he did not want to have to fight the land itself, too.
A scout rode in, his horse’s flanks heaving from the gallop. “Strange riders to the north, near the river!”
Jowarra shouted quick orders, summoning all of the men –and the couple of fighting women – to their horses. Then he ran for his own horse, pausing only to pick up the musket that rarely left his side.
His clan knew their business; most of them were already on their horses before he reached his. Forty-three men and two women; most of his clan’s strength. The others were too far away to help. Jowarra sent two outriders ahead, then led the rest behind them at a quick trot. Soon enough they reached the pasture to the north, where the nearest cattle-herd grazed. Several armed herdsmen should have been here, but they were gone – fled or captured.
The raiders formed a line on the far side of the pasture, just in front of the few trees. Thirty or so of them, waiting on their horses. Odd. Why had they not moved to secure the cattle, at least?
Wait for the charge, or try to scare them off? The decision took only a moment. Jowarra shouted, “Dismount and form line!”
His riders raced to follow his instructions, one in six leading the horses behind while the others formed a line and loaded muskets. This was always one of the more difficult judgements when responding to a raid. Muskets were too difficult to reload reliably while mounted, but a line of men on foot could fire them effectively. At least, effectively enough to inflict more casualties on raiders than they would want to bear. Better to scare them off this way than remain mounted and guarantee a fight which would be bloody regardless of who won.
A horn sounded behind him, blowing long and loud. He turned, involuntarily. Another group of riders had appeared behind them. More than thirty, in his judgement. “How in the name of the Heir...?”
One of the riders unfurled a banner, grey background with a strange pattern of crimson in its centre. That rider and the man next to him took a few steps forward.
“Fight or wait, warego [hero]?” one of his riders asked.
“Wait,” Jowarra said. Surrounded and outnumbered, that was not really a choice. But perhaps he could strike a bargain. His men had muskets ready, and striking at them would still cost lives. Perhaps some of the cattle could be offered; a severe blow to his clan, yes, but cows were easier to replace than men.
Jowarra called for his own horse, motioned the nearest rider to accompany him, then rode out to meet the chief raider.
The raider and his bannerman waited about halfway; he was polite, at least.
When they got close enough to see the raiders, Jowarra had to stop himself from staring. The leader looked as if he had not seen twenty winters! This youngling had deftly outmanoeuvred him?
Jowarra halted his horse a couple of paces short.
The youngling inclined his head. “I am Mowarin.”
Polite, yes, to introduce himself first rather than make me do so. Jowarra gave his own name, then said, “Impressive, to have brought your horses behind us unawares.”
Mowarin grinned. A pleasant sight. “Few men bother to watch burnt ground, thinking that the openness and lingering coals makes passage impossible. In truth, it is just a matter of watching where your horse steps.”
“And where did you learn such tricks?” Jowarra said. “I do believe my son is older than you.”
Mowarin’s grin just widened. “And does that mean you can’t learn from him? Young I may be, but I have commanded raids across the Horselands and beyond. And on every raid, on every day, I am always learning.”
“Wise to know that you still have much to learn,” Jowarra said.
The youngling shrugged. “Better to be a seeker after truth than one convinced he has already found truth.”
Jowarra laughed, almost against his will. “That, at least, I cannot dispute. And now, what have we to talk about? My cattle, doubtless.”
Mowarin’s grin vanished. “I am not here for the cattle. I could have taken them from you already, if I wished.”
“What, then?”
“I am here for the men who protect the cattle. I want your clan to join under my banner.”
Jowarra could not stop himself from staring. “You think a well-timed raid gives you that right?”
“Better to follow a leader who can command men well than one who cannot, would you not say?” Mowarin said.
“Better still to protect one’s own lands with one’s own clan.”
Mowarin raised an eyebrow. “You think your lands are protected, then? I could destroy your clan, if I wished, but that is not why I am here. So far west, you may not have heard, but already twenty clans follow my banner. I came here because I had heard that you were a man of both honour and good sense, who would look for the best way to protect his clan.”
“Since I live so far west of you, what protection can you offer me here?”
“I offer protection in my lands, not here,” Mowarin said.
“You cannot expect me to order my clan to abandon our lands.”
“Why not?” Mowarin’s calm tones sounded out of place on one so young. “So many have died in these hard times that much land lies empty. Now, land is not what brings worth. Land is everywhere. It is men and horses who bring worth, and the protection they provide which lets the herds increase.”
“Some truth in that,” Jowarra said. Good land was worth much, but in times of so few men, perhaps it was the men who were worth more.
“Good to know that I can sometimes find what I seek.” Mowarin’s grin returned. “But now I must ask that you decide. You may join me, or oppose me. I would prefer that you join me, but the choice is yours. Which will it be?”
Jowarra said, “I will join you.”
* * *
Taken from: The True History of the Yalatji: Translation and Commentary, Heron Publishing, 2nd edition.
English translation by IM Donne.
Introduction by CWJ Fowler III
The True History of the Yalatji is the oldest surviving literary and historical work written in the Yalatji language. Earlier Yalatji works are solely religious texts, since amongst pre-Hunter Yalatji society, literacy was the exclusive preserve of the priesthood. The True History was composed for the Warego ruling class by an unknown author circa 1740 and describes the life of the Hunter and his successors until 1735. While some sections contain clear bias, overall the True History is considered to be the best primary source of the life and times of the Hunter...
The True History is divided into thirteen books (sometimes called chapters). Book 1, largely considered to be fabricated, contains a description of the largely mythical genealogy of the Hunter, including supposed supernatural ancestors such as Crow and the Man of Bark. Some of the more recent named ancestors are considered possibly genuine. Notably, while most of the Hunter’s ancestors are given names, his immediate progenitors are called simply Tjuwagga’s father and Tjuwagga’s father’s father.
Book 2 describes the Hunter’s early life (until age 18), including some probably-fabricated anecdotes, and some plausible ones. Many of the details provided in the True History contradict other primary sources such as the Orange Bible and The Chronicle of Tjuwagga the Unbeliever [2].
Books 3-4 depict the Hunter’s unification of the Yalatji and Butjupa of the Neeburra in a series of conquests, alliances, and arrow-tip negotiations (1609-1708). These books also describe the first stages of the military and societal reforms which the Hunter enacted, as he deliberately broke down the clan- and family-based social structures. These new arrangements began the process where different clans were deliberately mixed to break down their old loyalties to their immediate leaders, and where military units were likewise composed of mixed groups and headed by leaders chosen for loyalty and ability, not family ties or social status. These two books of the True History are a particularly vital primary source, since they offer by far the most comprehensive account of the unification of the Yalatji and Butjupa...
* * *
November 1706
Cankoona, the Neeburra
Mowarin. The name had become a talisman among the Horse-Men. Most Horse-Men, that is. Some clans, particularly among the South-Men [Butjupa], used the name as a curse instead. The holdout clans were in the minority, and growing fewer every month, if the tales held truth.
Mowarin had vowed to bring every clan of the Horse-Men under his blood-stained banner, and he had done well, very well, so far. Well enough that word of his name had reached far to the south amongst the Bogolora, to where Kullerin dwelt [3]. Kullerin was a man in need of a talisman, of a leader worthy to be followed; his life had been adrift for far too long.
So far, it looked as if he had found the leader he sought. Mowarin sat on the ground, amidst a cluster of his high-ranking attack leaders and priests. Many more men and women stood further back, listening as best they could to hear Mowarin’s words. Kullerin stood among them, closer than most, glad to hear anything.
One of the ranking men, a priest judging from his lack of battle-scars, said, “The Kiyungu League has sent another group of envoys. All priests this time. Plirite priests. They say they bring words of peace.”
Mowarin laughed. “But of course. They are weak. Lacking in decisiveness. What else would they do, those who claim to follow the Good Man but have failed in the third path [4]? Only declare peace, peace, always peace, and never know when it is time to conquer.”
A white-haired, scar-faced veteran – probably Jowarra, if the tales were right – said, “Plirites always advocate doing nothing.”
The priest said, “Not so. They think that each man is his own judge of what is best for him. That each man should be counselled, but never told how to act.”
Mowarin spat at a flower, with perfect accuracy, then said, “A belief of nonsense. Not all men are equal in wit and understanding. They need men who can guide and advise them, and instruct them if required. They need leaders, men of better wisdom, who can guide their people, and ensure that what needs to be done, is done.”
The priest said, “And yet the Islanders and their followers have brought many peoples to Plirism. Not quite the true faith, yes, but part of the path to understanding.”
Mowarin did not show any sign of discontent at the disagreement. Which also fit with what Kullerin had heard in the tales, of what made him a leader worth following. Mowarin did not command obedience or agreement. He let people speak, and then used his own gifts of speech and reason to convince others to follow him.
Mowarin said, “They have brought a few people to the Seven-fold Path. A few people, in centuries of sailing hither and yon, speaking to people, hoping that they will accept. Speaking and hoping! They want people to listen and accept, without ever truly showing them what it is like to live in a land ruled by the true faith. A people cannot be shown the true path to harmony unless they are ruled by those who know about the balance.”
The priest said, “You cannot force a person into harmony.”
Mowarin’s voice grew more confident with every sentence. “Force men into harmony, no. Make them act properly, yes. Show them what it is like to live under a ruler with true harmony... yes.”
He paused, looking around in each direction, as if a new thought had come to him. “That is how it must be. The peoples who surround us are out of balance, and their imbalance brings discord even to us. They must be shown the true path. They will not be forced to follow it, but they will be forced to witness it... from their new rulers.”
A couple of the attack leaders started to shout in acclamation, then fell to silence as they witnessed Mowarin staring at the ground.
Mowarin looked down for a long time, contemplating. At length he looked up again, and ran his gaze around the circle of those seated with him, then to the broader circle of witnesses beyond. “This much I desire to accomplish in my life: to ride my horse into the sea to north and east and south, and know that I have brought harmony to all the lands through which I have ridden.”
* * *
[1] This swamp is in what historically the centre of downtown Toowoomba, and was drained during the founding of the town so that the land could be used for grazing. This had the unfortunate side-effect that Toowoomba’s centre is in the middle of a flood-zone, and is extremely prone to flash-floods. Allohistorically, the Yalatji simply view the swamp as a convenient source of water; they have plenty of other pasture for their needs without having to drain wetlands.
[2] See post #101 for more information about the Orange Bible. The Chronicle is an account by Gorang of Kabeebilla [Caboolture, QLD], a Kiyungu author who was a Yalatji captive for a time, and who as a Plirite viewed the Hunter (a Tjarrlinghi) as an unbeliever.
[3] The Bogolara are a loose confederation of chiefdoms in the western parts of the Northern Pepperlands (northern highlands of New South Wales), based around Toodella [Inverell, NSW.
[4] Plirites and Tjarrlinghi both follow the Seven-fold Path laid down by the Good Man, although they disagree on many aspects of how to follow those paths. The third path is the path of decisiveness, which is often paraphrased as “no half actions”. This path is often interpreted to mean that often inaction is the best way of maintaining harmony, but that when action is required, it should be decisive. See post #17 for more information.
* * *
Thoughts?
“Be of one people and one vision, that you may conquer your enemies and bring them to harmony.”
- Attributed to the Hunter
* * *
August 1699
Cankoona [Toowoomba, QLD], the Neeburra [Darling Downs]
Jakandanda, son of Mutjigonga, priest, father and sometimes war-leader, sat on his priest’s chair where it had been placed atop the ridge. Such had been his habit for the last few winters. Let the younger men see to the cattle, horses and ducks that needed to be grazed and watered. Here, amidst the heights, he could pray and contemplate, if he chose, or just watch the land, which he often preferred.
Much of the land around was pasture dotted by occasional trees, kept as open country by regular burning during the spring and autumn fire seasons. To the north-west, below the ridge, was a great expanse of swamp, dotted with reeds. He always found that sight soothing; a reminder that not all water needed to be drilled for beneath the ground, as was so common nowadays. The swamp teemed with birds – he saw several in flight as he glanced over – watered the horses and cattle when needed, and in dire times the women could harvest the reeds for food [1].
From his vantage, Jakandanda was naturally the first to see the riders approaching. Twenty or so men on horseback, with a greater number of riderless horses trailing behind. Good news, then; twenty-two riders had set out to raid the far south, and most had returned. With both North-Men [Yalatji] and South-Men [Butjupa] growing fewer every year, losing any rider was a setback. A raid where even five riders died was a tragedy, no matter how much plunder it brought back; good men were all but impossible to replace. With true fortune, all raiders would be returning, and the missing two men were merely guarding the rear.
As the riders drew closer, Jakandanda recognised the figure of Mowarin at their head. Easy enough to spot; no-one else rode quite like that, or had such height and bearing. What he could see of the other horses looked promising, too. The saddle-bags looked fuller than they should be, since the provisions would have been used during the raid. Given how long the raiders had been away, the saddle-bags must be full of plunder, not food. So the raid on Yigutji, on the River-Men, must have been a triumph.
When the riders came closer still, Jakandanda felt a twinge in his stomach. Mowarin appeared bereft of life. Solemn; a word which had never fit him before. Was this the same bold, life-filled youth who set out on this raid, as he had set out on so many others before? Where was the smile that could bring courage to a man’s heart and desire to a woman’s?
When the first riders dismounted, Jakandanda asked, “Where is Burren? Is he guarding the rear?”
Mowarin bowed his head. “Alas, father of my heart.” The life had gone from his voice, as it had gone from his face. “The Horse-Brother, the brother of my spirt, has fallen. The River-Men slew him.”
The twinge in Jakandanda’s stomach turned into an iron ball. Cold iron. Tears followed, openly, forthrightly. Some priests claimed that men should be dignified even in grief, but Jakandanda had always rejected such nonsense. Holding grief in or adopting some so-called proper image only created greater disharmony later.
Amidst his tears, he eventually saw Mowarin holding forth an urn made from unglazed clay. “Your eldest son’s ashes, wirrulee [priest/warrior].”
Even with grief assailing him, Jakandanda could not help but study Mowarin. The youth had always had such a talent; when he was nearby, everyone and everything else seemed to become part of the background.
Solemnity remained in Mowarin. Perhaps quiet resolve, too. No sign of his usual joy or smile. Nor any sign of tears, either. Maybe he had exhausted all of his grief on the journey home, too. Or maybe part of him had forever died along with his soul-brother.
Witnessing Jakandanda’s gaze, Mowarin bowed his head again. “My soul-brother has passed, but will not be forgotten.” He waved a hand, and one of the other riders approached. The rider unfurled a banner, grey but with irregular patches of dark crimson. Of blood.
“This banner wrapped your son in his passing. It will become his remembrance. Soon, it will become a banner that the Horse-Men fear. All of them. This I vow.”
“A bold plan,” Jakandanda said, approval in his tone.
* * *
March 1701
Gundulla [Condamine, QLD], Neeburra
Occasional bursts of smoke wafted up from the blackened ground to the south. Blackened ground, that is, but not completely-burnt vegetation. The upper parts of the trees were still green. A mark of carefully controlled fire; the beaters had done an excellent job of steering it in the right direction. Cold fire, to use the word which his father’s father had used, although nowadays Jowarra did not think in such terms.
The land needed to be managed, and small fires were a part of that. Left untended, the land would overgrow; too much greenery, to the point where a fire could be large enough to kill all in its path, with no chance of outrunning it. That would be deadly for men, horses and cattle. Jowarra had enough troubles these days protecting his clan and livestock from human raiders; he did not want to have to fight the land itself, too.
A scout rode in, his horse’s flanks heaving from the gallop. “Strange riders to the north, near the river!”
Jowarra shouted quick orders, summoning all of the men –and the couple of fighting women – to their horses. Then he ran for his own horse, pausing only to pick up the musket that rarely left his side.
His clan knew their business; most of them were already on their horses before he reached his. Forty-three men and two women; most of his clan’s strength. The others were too far away to help. Jowarra sent two outriders ahead, then led the rest behind them at a quick trot. Soon enough they reached the pasture to the north, where the nearest cattle-herd grazed. Several armed herdsmen should have been here, but they were gone – fled or captured.
The raiders formed a line on the far side of the pasture, just in front of the few trees. Thirty or so of them, waiting on their horses. Odd. Why had they not moved to secure the cattle, at least?
Wait for the charge, or try to scare them off? The decision took only a moment. Jowarra shouted, “Dismount and form line!”
His riders raced to follow his instructions, one in six leading the horses behind while the others formed a line and loaded muskets. This was always one of the more difficult judgements when responding to a raid. Muskets were too difficult to reload reliably while mounted, but a line of men on foot could fire them effectively. At least, effectively enough to inflict more casualties on raiders than they would want to bear. Better to scare them off this way than remain mounted and guarantee a fight which would be bloody regardless of who won.
A horn sounded behind him, blowing long and loud. He turned, involuntarily. Another group of riders had appeared behind them. More than thirty, in his judgement. “How in the name of the Heir...?”
One of the riders unfurled a banner, grey background with a strange pattern of crimson in its centre. That rider and the man next to him took a few steps forward.
“Fight or wait, warego [hero]?” one of his riders asked.
“Wait,” Jowarra said. Surrounded and outnumbered, that was not really a choice. But perhaps he could strike a bargain. His men had muskets ready, and striking at them would still cost lives. Perhaps some of the cattle could be offered; a severe blow to his clan, yes, but cows were easier to replace than men.
Jowarra called for his own horse, motioned the nearest rider to accompany him, then rode out to meet the chief raider.
The raider and his bannerman waited about halfway; he was polite, at least.
When they got close enough to see the raiders, Jowarra had to stop himself from staring. The leader looked as if he had not seen twenty winters! This youngling had deftly outmanoeuvred him?
Jowarra halted his horse a couple of paces short.
The youngling inclined his head. “I am Mowarin.”
Polite, yes, to introduce himself first rather than make me do so. Jowarra gave his own name, then said, “Impressive, to have brought your horses behind us unawares.”
Mowarin grinned. A pleasant sight. “Few men bother to watch burnt ground, thinking that the openness and lingering coals makes passage impossible. In truth, it is just a matter of watching where your horse steps.”
“And where did you learn such tricks?” Jowarra said. “I do believe my son is older than you.”
Mowarin’s grin just widened. “And does that mean you can’t learn from him? Young I may be, but I have commanded raids across the Horselands and beyond. And on every raid, on every day, I am always learning.”
“Wise to know that you still have much to learn,” Jowarra said.
The youngling shrugged. “Better to be a seeker after truth than one convinced he has already found truth.”
Jowarra laughed, almost against his will. “That, at least, I cannot dispute. And now, what have we to talk about? My cattle, doubtless.”
Mowarin’s grin vanished. “I am not here for the cattle. I could have taken them from you already, if I wished.”
“What, then?”
“I am here for the men who protect the cattle. I want your clan to join under my banner.”
Jowarra could not stop himself from staring. “You think a well-timed raid gives you that right?”
“Better to follow a leader who can command men well than one who cannot, would you not say?” Mowarin said.
“Better still to protect one’s own lands with one’s own clan.”
Mowarin raised an eyebrow. “You think your lands are protected, then? I could destroy your clan, if I wished, but that is not why I am here. So far west, you may not have heard, but already twenty clans follow my banner. I came here because I had heard that you were a man of both honour and good sense, who would look for the best way to protect his clan.”
“Since I live so far west of you, what protection can you offer me here?”
“I offer protection in my lands, not here,” Mowarin said.
“You cannot expect me to order my clan to abandon our lands.”
“Why not?” Mowarin’s calm tones sounded out of place on one so young. “So many have died in these hard times that much land lies empty. Now, land is not what brings worth. Land is everywhere. It is men and horses who bring worth, and the protection they provide which lets the herds increase.”
“Some truth in that,” Jowarra said. Good land was worth much, but in times of so few men, perhaps it was the men who were worth more.
“Good to know that I can sometimes find what I seek.” Mowarin’s grin returned. “But now I must ask that you decide. You may join me, or oppose me. I would prefer that you join me, but the choice is yours. Which will it be?”
Jowarra said, “I will join you.”
* * *
Taken from: The True History of the Yalatji: Translation and Commentary, Heron Publishing, 2nd edition.
English translation by IM Donne.
Introduction by CWJ Fowler III
The True History of the Yalatji is the oldest surviving literary and historical work written in the Yalatji language. Earlier Yalatji works are solely religious texts, since amongst pre-Hunter Yalatji society, literacy was the exclusive preserve of the priesthood. The True History was composed for the Warego ruling class by an unknown author circa 1740 and describes the life of the Hunter and his successors until 1735. While some sections contain clear bias, overall the True History is considered to be the best primary source of the life and times of the Hunter...
The True History is divided into thirteen books (sometimes called chapters). Book 1, largely considered to be fabricated, contains a description of the largely mythical genealogy of the Hunter, including supposed supernatural ancestors such as Crow and the Man of Bark. Some of the more recent named ancestors are considered possibly genuine. Notably, while most of the Hunter’s ancestors are given names, his immediate progenitors are called simply Tjuwagga’s father and Tjuwagga’s father’s father.
Book 2 describes the Hunter’s early life (until age 18), including some probably-fabricated anecdotes, and some plausible ones. Many of the details provided in the True History contradict other primary sources such as the Orange Bible and The Chronicle of Tjuwagga the Unbeliever [2].
Books 3-4 depict the Hunter’s unification of the Yalatji and Butjupa of the Neeburra in a series of conquests, alliances, and arrow-tip negotiations (1609-1708). These books also describe the first stages of the military and societal reforms which the Hunter enacted, as he deliberately broke down the clan- and family-based social structures. These new arrangements began the process where different clans were deliberately mixed to break down their old loyalties to their immediate leaders, and where military units were likewise composed of mixed groups and headed by leaders chosen for loyalty and ability, not family ties or social status. These two books of the True History are a particularly vital primary source, since they offer by far the most comprehensive account of the unification of the Yalatji and Butjupa...
* * *
November 1706
Cankoona, the Neeburra
Mowarin. The name had become a talisman among the Horse-Men. Most Horse-Men, that is. Some clans, particularly among the South-Men [Butjupa], used the name as a curse instead. The holdout clans were in the minority, and growing fewer every month, if the tales held truth.
Mowarin had vowed to bring every clan of the Horse-Men under his blood-stained banner, and he had done well, very well, so far. Well enough that word of his name had reached far to the south amongst the Bogolora, to where Kullerin dwelt [3]. Kullerin was a man in need of a talisman, of a leader worthy to be followed; his life had been adrift for far too long.
So far, it looked as if he had found the leader he sought. Mowarin sat on the ground, amidst a cluster of his high-ranking attack leaders and priests. Many more men and women stood further back, listening as best they could to hear Mowarin’s words. Kullerin stood among them, closer than most, glad to hear anything.
One of the ranking men, a priest judging from his lack of battle-scars, said, “The Kiyungu League has sent another group of envoys. All priests this time. Plirite priests. They say they bring words of peace.”
Mowarin laughed. “But of course. They are weak. Lacking in decisiveness. What else would they do, those who claim to follow the Good Man but have failed in the third path [4]? Only declare peace, peace, always peace, and never know when it is time to conquer.”
A white-haired, scar-faced veteran – probably Jowarra, if the tales were right – said, “Plirites always advocate doing nothing.”
The priest said, “Not so. They think that each man is his own judge of what is best for him. That each man should be counselled, but never told how to act.”
Mowarin spat at a flower, with perfect accuracy, then said, “A belief of nonsense. Not all men are equal in wit and understanding. They need men who can guide and advise them, and instruct them if required. They need leaders, men of better wisdom, who can guide their people, and ensure that what needs to be done, is done.”
The priest said, “And yet the Islanders and their followers have brought many peoples to Plirism. Not quite the true faith, yes, but part of the path to understanding.”
Mowarin did not show any sign of discontent at the disagreement. Which also fit with what Kullerin had heard in the tales, of what made him a leader worth following. Mowarin did not command obedience or agreement. He let people speak, and then used his own gifts of speech and reason to convince others to follow him.
Mowarin said, “They have brought a few people to the Seven-fold Path. A few people, in centuries of sailing hither and yon, speaking to people, hoping that they will accept. Speaking and hoping! They want people to listen and accept, without ever truly showing them what it is like to live in a land ruled by the true faith. A people cannot be shown the true path to harmony unless they are ruled by those who know about the balance.”
The priest said, “You cannot force a person into harmony.”
Mowarin’s voice grew more confident with every sentence. “Force men into harmony, no. Make them act properly, yes. Show them what it is like to live under a ruler with true harmony... yes.”
He paused, looking around in each direction, as if a new thought had come to him. “That is how it must be. The peoples who surround us are out of balance, and their imbalance brings discord even to us. They must be shown the true path. They will not be forced to follow it, but they will be forced to witness it... from their new rulers.”
A couple of the attack leaders started to shout in acclamation, then fell to silence as they witnessed Mowarin staring at the ground.
Mowarin looked down for a long time, contemplating. At length he looked up again, and ran his gaze around the circle of those seated with him, then to the broader circle of witnesses beyond. “This much I desire to accomplish in my life: to ride my horse into the sea to north and east and south, and know that I have brought harmony to all the lands through which I have ridden.”
* * *
[1] This swamp is in what historically the centre of downtown Toowoomba, and was drained during the founding of the town so that the land could be used for grazing. This had the unfortunate side-effect that Toowoomba’s centre is in the middle of a flood-zone, and is extremely prone to flash-floods. Allohistorically, the Yalatji simply view the swamp as a convenient source of water; they have plenty of other pasture for their needs without having to drain wetlands.
[2] See post #101 for more information about the Orange Bible. The Chronicle is an account by Gorang of Kabeebilla [Caboolture, QLD], a Kiyungu author who was a Yalatji captive for a time, and who as a Plirite viewed the Hunter (a Tjarrlinghi) as an unbeliever.
[3] The Bogolara are a loose confederation of chiefdoms in the western parts of the Northern Pepperlands (northern highlands of New South Wales), based around Toodella [Inverell, NSW.
[4] Plirites and Tjarrlinghi both follow the Seven-fold Path laid down by the Good Man, although they disagree on many aspects of how to follow those paths. The third path is the path of decisiveness, which is often paraphrased as “no half actions”. This path is often interpreted to mean that often inaction is the best way of maintaining harmony, but that when action is required, it should be decisive. See post #17 for more information.
* * *
Thoughts?
Amazing. Hong Xiuquan meets Shaka Zulu meets Genghis Khan. I have no doubt Mowarin would create a devastating military force, even if I doubt his empire would last. Speaking of which, what is their way of fighting? Do they just use cavalry swords when fighting from horseback, or do firearms also play a major role? Do you think Mowarin could innovate as Shaka did and come up with new maneuvers, perhaps new weapons? I am thinking Mowarin could arm his riders with special carbines and pistols in order to make hit and run attacks easier. Does he make use of infantry as well?
If Mowarin fields horse-mounted cavalry / carabiniers, he would have basically invented Dragoons, no? Perhaps drums or horns could be used to signal, and with it, a very effective and deadly fighting force.
If Mowarin fields horse-mounted cavalry / carabiniers, he would have basically invented Dragoons, no? Perhaps drums or horns could be used to signal, and with it, a very effective and deadly fighting force.
Last edited:
I don't think anyone's going to intervene from without, either, so Aururia is their oyster. I wonder if Jared can provide any context as to how big their empire can get. Obviously like any other steppe empire, it would just be the invaders setting themselves up as the rulers over the farmers, who pay the taxes. But this time these are nomads with an ideology they'd like to spread, which is very interesting. Like Muhammad, in that way.
If Genghis Khan, then so Khan they
! (I apologize in advance for the extremely bad pun, that was a steppe too far...)twovultures
Donor
I do love me some horse cultures
Interesting to see how Pilirism is giving a philosophical impetus for conquest and empire-building.
Interesting to see how Pilirism is giving a philosophical impetus for conquest and empire-building.
The Poarter
Banned
Give Australia 40 years to become equal to any western and central European country of the same population.
Aururia has brass bands?
Not quite in the modern form - they don't have the valve technology - but yes, they can make some distinctive sounds.
They fight using a combination of dragoons, arrow-shooting cavalry and sword-wielding raiders. These techniques have evolved over the last half-century as horses spread and the population declined, leading to developments in raids and warfare.
They don't really use infantry (being mostly cavalry and dragoons), but would be capable of integrating infantry regiments from conquered peoples.
In terms of innovation, Mowarin/the Hunter's particular genius lies in inspiring and organising other people, and in recognising good ideas from elsewhere. So come up with good military innovations no, take up good ideas from others, yes. Of course, they don't have their own manufacturing base in any significant way, so coming up with new kinds of pistols or carbines could be a problem. So long as they keep the trade connection open with Portugal, though, they could buy whatever models the Portuguese can find to sell to them.
They essentially already had dragoons before Mowarin was born; it was a technique they recognised as part of their raids. They do have drums to coordinate raids, although the drums aren't unique to them; some of the larger Aururian states also use those.
Every dog has its day, even men mounted on big dogs.
External intervention would be limited, and in most cases impractical anyway. The Yalatji/Butjupa cavalry are very mobile, know or can work out the terrain very quickly, and would either avoid or ambush would-be European intervention forces.
The limits are essentially demographic; even as a ruling class, there's only so far they can go and keep rule over a growing number of subjects. There aren't an unlimited number of raiders, even allowing for some recruitment of locals as riders. (And as infantry.) Other than that, the Hunter's forces will keep going unless and until they are defeated.
If Genghis Khan, then so Khan they
That would make the right kind of person laugh themselves horse.
I do love me some horse cultures
Interesting to see how Pilirism is giving a philosophical impetus for conquest and empire-building.
In the right context, yes, it's quite amenable to it. It has been one of the perennial arguments within Plirism/Tjarrling itself as to whether conquest is the right way to spread the faith. The Hunter is the first to make a large-scale go of it (although plenty of Tjarrlinghi tried earlier on a smaller scale); if he succeeds even partially, he may well inspire others.
The technological gap is quite wide, even if it's being closed in some areas. But geographic advantage plays a part; it's hard for any European country to project enough power to subdue an equal population of Aururians.
I think down the line Mowarin could find some military genius amongst his ranks, who might innovate on their strategy and equipment. Horse gunners can be very deadly against infantry with capabilities of some very devastating ambushes. But cavalry are generally terrible at holding territory and in sieges, so like Genghis, some outside assistance will be needed in that sort of situation.
If they capture cities, then that would give them a manufacturing base and a base for recruitment. I'm guessing they would keep local rulers who're friendly to them and sympathetic at least to their religious views and agenda. Speaking of which, is there a map for the spread of religions and a population map?
Also, could they develop mounted grenadiers? Are grenadiers used in any significant capacity anywhere in Aururia?
If they capture cities, then that would give them a manufacturing base and a base for recruitment. I'm guessing they would keep local rulers who're friendly to them and sympathetic at least to their religious views and agenda. Speaking of which, is there a map for the spread of religions and a population map?
Also, could they develop mounted grenadiers? Are grenadiers used in any significant capacity anywhere in Aururia?
Jared, long see no time! Glad to see LoRaG still up and running. Finally caught back up after my externally-imposed absence from AH.com. Still really great stuff! I love where you've taken it. I also see you're a firm believer in the "Alt-historical Law of Conservation of Memes" .
.The way in which Mowarin/the Hunter has set up his regime requires him to recruit the people with the best ability, particularly military ability. He is deliberately breaking down the old clan structures, so that they cannot be used to organise a revolt against him. A consequence of this is that his commanders cannot rely on the old family loyalty which previous commanders relied on, so they have to rely on ability and success. So Mowarin needs to recognise and promote the best military commanders, looking for qualities such as courage, leadership ability, and also the ability to innovate.
In terms of their cavalry's ability to control ground and maintain sieges, well, the key difference between Mowarin and Genghis is that Mowarin has a lot of dragoons. They have good mobility and can be used to control ground (fighting dismounted, of course). In the long run he would probably want to recruit some infantry, and definitely some siege engineers, from other peoples, but he's in a position where he can start to conquer and hold territory even without that.
Capturing cities may give them some manufacturing, but it depends on the city and the kind of manufacturing. Creating new carbines or innovation military weapons, particularly those requiring fine manufacturing, would require some of the more technologically-developed cities such as those of the Five Rivers (and maaaybe the Patjimunra); those of say, Daluming or the Kiyungu wouldn't qualify.
Conquest by the Great Crusaders (aka Yalatji and Butjupa) divides the local rulers into two groups: the living (who submitted) and the dead (who didn't). Local rulers will still have some power if they submit and if they are judged loyal, although a Tjarrlinghi ruling caste will still be imposed in some form. Rulers who are judged disloyal, or even potentially disloyal... well, they have the life expectancy of the proverbial snowflake in the devil's nether regions.
For maps, there aren't any recent ones that are relevant to population or religious distribution, but the old ones on the DoD/LoRaG website (here) give some indications about religion (especially the Islander one) and population (the 1618 map show the states with the biggest population).
A new map would probably be appropriate to showing the pattern of conquests/potential conquests, although I may leave that for a post or two when more of the actual pattern of conquests can be shown.
I haven't really considered that. I'm not sure how easy grenades would be to make given Aururian technology. If they are, then grenadiers would make a very Yadji kind of unit; they would find such a thing very appealling.
Whether the Crusaders would take up grenades depends very much how reliable those grenades can be made to be. As far as I know, grenades of this era weren't very reliable even with European technology; any grenades which Aururians made would probably be even less so. That doesn't really appeal to the Yalatji/Butjupa; their manpower shortages means that they prefer more reliable weapons than those which can blow up in the hands of the person wielding them, or which don't always blow up reliably when landing.
Jared, long see no time! Glad to see LoRaG still up and running. Finally caught back up after my externally-imposed absence from AH.com. Still really great stuff! I love where you've taken it. I also see you're a firm believer in the "Alt-historical Law of Conservation of Memes"
Good to see you back! I always believe in using the right memes; a meme in time saves nine.
Conquering cities, or even small towns, would be advantageous in themselves. It's not only manufacturing or repair, but a base of operations and a forward operating base that one gets for the campaign. Aside from captured fortresses, and I guess large camps (do the Yalatji set those up? Or do they prefer smaller, impermanent ones?). And of course, they'll eventually have to capture some population base to name as a capital for the empire.
Grenades can be easily made, if you don't have the technology to produce the cast-iron shells, then you can just make it out of ceramic and put in metal balls or whatever to act as shrapnel. As for the reliability, that would be very spotty. So if the Yalatji want to conserve their fighting men, they could use grenadiers when they have more men to move around and lose. I think there would be advantages to using grenades, one would be the psychological effect (but I think they might spook their own horses too) and it's use in sieges. Perhaps the Yalatji might recruit people from conquered lands to be grenadiers, if they believe them more expendable. We might even see devout, dogmatic Tjarrlinghi be employed as suicide bombers, carry a pack full of grenades and powder charges into enemy positions. Probably wouldn't matter if they're killed then, because the fuse wouldn't be easily put out. Doesn't seem too far-fetched to me.
Also, crusade seems a crude but workable translation of the concept of this sort of war. What terms do the Tjarrling themselves use?
One more thing, what does the blood-spattered grey banner actually look like? Mowarin doesn't seem to be a particularly iconoclastic ruler, but a blood spatter on a grey banner sounds to me like a basically unreplicable symbol, not with any sort of accuracy towards the original anyway. Compared to the solid-color banners of the early Caliphates, or the cross of Christianity, I think to survive as a unifying symbol, the banner must become simplified in some manner. I'm guessing it would just be reduced to a couple of red dots on a field of grey, but there's many ways the symbol could develop. Any ideas?
Grenades can be easily made, if you don't have the technology to produce the cast-iron shells, then you can just make it out of ceramic and put in metal balls or whatever to act as shrapnel. As for the reliability, that would be very spotty. So if the Yalatji want to conserve their fighting men, they could use grenadiers when they have more men to move around and lose. I think there would be advantages to using grenades, one would be the psychological effect (but I think they might spook their own horses too) and it's use in sieges. Perhaps the Yalatji might recruit people from conquered lands to be grenadiers, if they believe them more expendable. We might even see devout, dogmatic Tjarrlinghi be employed as suicide bombers, carry a pack full of grenades and powder charges into enemy positions. Probably wouldn't matter if they're killed then, because the fuse wouldn't be easily put out. Doesn't seem too far-fetched to me.
Also, crusade seems a crude but workable translation of the concept of this sort of war. What terms do the Tjarrling themselves use?
One more thing, what does the blood-spattered grey banner actually look like? Mowarin doesn't seem to be a particularly iconoclastic ruler, but a blood spatter on a grey banner sounds to me like a basically unreplicable symbol, not with any sort of accuracy towards the original anyway. Compared to the solid-color banners of the early Caliphates, or the cross of Christianity, I think to survive as a unifying symbol, the banner must become simplified in some manner. I'm guessing it would just be reduced to a couple of red dots on a field of grey, but there's many ways the symbol could develop. Any ideas?
Will Mowarin's forces eventually come into contact with Europeans; or will this whole episode completely pass them by?
So let me see if I have this correct. We have a culture built around horses, whose mission statement is to spread Harmony and fight Discord, and they expand by assimilating others into the herd, so to speak?
I believe we have an Empire of Bronies on our hands.
I believe we have an Empire of Bronies on our hands.
In OTL Portugal did sell weapons to states that wore friendly (Japan) or even offer them to improve diplomatic relations(Persia).
So The Capitão Geral of the Portuguese settlement in Northern Aururia would support that trade, even more because it could potential open new markets that for the time been are blocked by other European powers.
At this time in OTL there was a very active Portuguese family in Macau and earlier in Goa,in the weapons manufactory,the Bocarro.
They or an ATL counterpart could very well expand their business to Northern Aururia, they had the knowledge and the family connections to China and India to get all the supplies needed to make weapons(big and small) and gunpowder.
And because they will go from Macau part of their workers will be Chinese, and one or more could, one day in a buying trip to local market, recognise the trepanag and decide to send some home to make his personal fortune.
I don't think Northern Aururia would have the infrastructure to support a foreign built factory. Other countries, like Qing dynasty did allow such factories but only on closed off enclaves (due to isolation policies) and where there were large population centers. I'm guessing this should wait until the Tjarrling control a few cities or towns of their own. I'm guessing the Kiyungu should count, where cities should be open to the sea and materiel and personnel can be shipped in to set up a workshop. Of course, when foreigner Europeans come to set up the factories, during the stay they would like to learn the local language, culture, maybe even send in missionaries to convert the populace from their heretical ways. That could be interesting.
Perhaps there could be a deal made for the establishment for a gunfoundry or a cannon foundry, too. That could solve the problem of sieges.