claim submission, Last Words of a Dres nobleman

[storm_crow]

here is the book on slave traid and raids in the Black Marsh, umm I don't know if it's any good, I tried to put as much lore info as possible, tell me what you think...

Last Words of a Dres Nobleman

Finally, finally my life comes to a close and I can go to rest as my fathers did before me and be honoured by the future generations at the Waiting Doors. Not that I regret my life, it was certainly a good life as far as the life of the Alt-Julan goes. That is exactly why I have chosen this night, so close to the end, to write this book by the candlelight, for my son and for the sons of the other noblemen of our great house be able to take what we have left them and continue to honor the traditions that had made Dres the richest house.

As my son is now, I too was once young and full of hope, waiting for my father’s death, the key to obtaining the family heritage, the one thing that could make me wealthy and powerful in one moment. Lucky for me I was also very wise when the time came and I received the plantation, along with all the slaves and Gha’Kogo soldiers and guards.

I spent my first year as an Overseer watching in the dark, my father’s old councillor basically told me what to do. Finally, I started to learn all the responsibilities that had been given to me. Two choices were before me, either continue living with the councillor telling me what to do, or truly take over the reigns of the family heritage and live my own life, while risking all that my ancestors had created before me. The decision was not hard to make, I sent off the old councillor who was draining away too much of ‘my’ money, and went through all the other Gha’Kogo, and replaced those that I thought to be unfit for ‘my’ estate.

The first thing my councillor told me was that we needed more slaves, all the cats and a few lizards had died during a contagious outbreak. I assembled some guard and soldiers, and the general that led ‘my’ small Gha’Kogo army in the manor, and we discussed for a whole night, planning a raid in the black marsh.

A party of ten men left the next week, they were strong and ready, and they were packed with weapons and food. However, one terrible mistake was made, one that I would never forget in the future. Over the years one very strong-willed Cat female had managed to impress my father and had won a post as the top servant in the manor. Seeing no inconvenience to her running errands around the estate I kept her there, but not for long. This slave was given the job to buy a stock of medicine for the expedition. It turns out the salves and ointments the dumb creature had bought were spoiled, and the medicines had been in to weak quality to fight the terrible Black Marsh fevers. Only one of the party members returned to us, carrying on his back the boil riddled body of his dead mate, the eight others had also perished from the diseases that fermented in the murky swamp water. I personally took care of the stupid slaves case by sending her to a rather nasty slave pit filled with male brutes that, so the slave-master tolled me, hadn’t seen females in more than a year. Knowing the beastly manners of these violent and perverted males, I don’t think the servant had a very good time.

The next raid we planned was better prepared. Thirty men were sent out, each carrying his own bag of medicine, healing herbs and bandages, without counting the two healers that were accompanying the group. After two weeks the party returned successfully with about fifty young lizard slaves. Thirty were sent to the plantations and I sold the rest to the slave pits. It turned out they were of excellent quality, being mostly young males.

In the months that followed I organized many new expeditions to discover new tribes and find slave hotspots in the swampland. One of my friends who owned a large plantation east of mine was also murdered in hazy conditions, since he had no son and little family I took over his lands and incorporated his wife and three daughters in my own household. On my precious helper’s advice I also began giving weekly speeches to the slaves in the plantations. I became a specialist at talking to them, lying to them in different manners, and in the end convincing them they had no choice but to remain slaves to me for it was their best option for survival. I also started sending out old argonians with the raid expeditions. I would talk to them a bit and offer them significant sums of money, and they would trudge along with the raiding parties, helping to convince the wild lizard-men that they were to follow my men back to my plantation without questioning. The fruits of all these labours were soon collected as my wealth grew significantly in two years without any slave rebellions whatsoever.

The ancestors gave me a daughter and two sons, the oldest I married with my deceased friend’s daughter, and the youngest who drives the guards in the plantations lives in the shadow of his older brother, who is bound to the family heritage. All has been arranged, a letter has been sent to each of my children, I have arranged for my youngest son to join the temple, he must serve as priest for I know him, and his jealousy will drive him to madness.

And now sons of all Dres noblemen may you listen to the words of a dying man, may you listen to the whispers of the ancestral spirits through the Waiting Doors. May the traditions of our great house be still honoured for all generations to come, may the humans leave our land, and may we stay strong and mighty through...

(editor’s note: here it would seem the quill of our valiant Dres noblemen failed to go further, as the spirit of the deceased man was sent to oblivion)


please tell me what you think, I'm sure there are a few things to change I would like to get people's advice, especially Jacurutu I would enjoy if he read this since it's a submission...

[Colostriph]

In written form:

Last Words of a Dres Nobleman

Finally, finally my life comes to a close and I can go to rest as my fathers did before me and be honoured by the future generations at the Waiting Doors. Not that I regret my life, it was certainly a good life as far as the life of the Alt-Julan goes. That is exactly why I have chosen this night, so close to the end, to write this book by the candlelight, for my son and for the sons of the other noblemen of our great house be able to take what we have left them and continue to honour the traditions that had made Dres the richest house.

As my son is now, I too was once young and full of hope, waiting for my father’s death, the key to obtaining the family heritage, the one thing that could make me wealthy and powerful in one moment. Lucky for me I was also very wise when the time came and I received the plantation, along with all the slaves and Gha’Kogo soldiers and guards.

I spent my first year as an Overseer watching in the dark, my father’s old councillor basically told me what to do. Finally, I started to learn all the responsibilities that had been given to me. Two choices were before me, either continue living with the councillor telling me what to do, or truly take over the reigns of the family heritage and live my own life, while risking all that my ancestors had created before me. The decision was not hard to make, I sent off the old councillor who was draining away too much of ‘my’ money, and went through all the other Gha’Kogo, and replaced those that I thought to be unfit for ‘my’ estate.

The first thing my councillor told me was that we needed more slaves, all the cats and a few lizards had died during a contagious outbreak. I assembled some guard and soldiers, and the general that led ‘my’ small Gha’Kogo army in the manor, and we discussed for a whole night, planning a raid in the black marsh.

A party of ten men left the next week, they were strong and ready, and they were packed with weapons and food. However, we made one terrible mistake that we would never make again, only one of the men carried cure disease potions, and he only carried a few bottles. Only one of the party members returned to us, carrying on his back the boil riddled body of his dead mate, the eight others had also perished from the diseases that fermented in the murky swamp water.

The next raid we planned was better prepared. Thirty men were sent out, each carrying fifteen or so potions of cure disease, without counting the two healers that were accompanying the group. After two weeks the party returned successfully with about fifty young lizard slaves. Thirty were sent to the plantations and I sold the rest to the slave pits. It turned out they were of excellent quality, being mostly young males.

In the months that followed I organized many new expeditions to discover new tribes and find slave hotspots in the swampland. One of my friends who owned a large plantation east of mine was also murdered in hazy conditions, since he had no son and little family I took over his lands and incorporated his wife and three daughters in my own household. On my precious helper’s advice I also began giving weekly speeches to the slaves in the plantations. I became a specialist at talking to them, lying to them in different manners, and in the end convincing them they had no choice but to remain slaves to me for it was their best option for survival. The fruit of all these labours was soon collected as my wealth grew significantly in two years and no slave rebellions whatsoever.

The ancestors gave me a daughter and two sons, the oldest I married with my deceased friend’s daughter, and the youngest who drives the guards in the plantations lives in the shadow of his older brother, who is bound to the family heritage. All has been arranged, a letter has been sent to each of my children, I have arranged for my youngest son to join the temple, he must serve as priest for I know him, and his jealousy will drive him to madness.

And now sons of all Dres noblemen may you listen to the words of a dying man, may you listen to the whispers of the ancestral spirits through the Waiting Doors. May the traditions of our great house be still honoured for all generations to come, may the humans leave our land, and may we stay strong and mighty through...(editor’s note: here it would seem the quill of our valiant Dres noblemen failed to go further, and the spirit of the deceased man was sent to oblivion)

[Haj]

However, we made one terrible mistake that we would never make again, only one of the men carried cure disease potions, and he only carried a few bottles. Only one of the party members returned to us, carrying on his back the boil riddled body of his dead mate, the eight others had also perished from the diseases that fermented in the murky swamp water.

It seems like just too dumb a mistake to make, how about making it that the cure disease potions were spoiled and did not work as well as planned. Then the author could make a note to flay the slave whose job it is to look after the potion stock.

Also, don't call them "cure disease potions", it's too game-jargon-ish, try something like "salves and liquors that could combat against the wretched ills of that dankly diseased waste".

These are merely ideas, proffered in the hope that they may be rewarded with a banana (or two).

eeep!

Haj

[Haj]

Often, in slave-trading (which in the real world was a practice that began so early it even predates true war-making) slavers would employ other slaves to help capture fresh ones.

The situation is not unlike how abattoirs keep an animal alive and keep it familiar with the slaughterhouse sounds and smells, so it can be used to calm the new animals which are brought for slaughter. Even to the point of leading them into the pens.

Similarly, slavers would employ pet slaves who would assist in the gathering of further slaves (principally by calming the situation with what appears to be a friendly face) and then these pet slaves would act as the lowest tier in the slave-control hierarchy, usually in return for benefits like better food or more lenient treatment.

This system of employing slaves to take on positions of responsibility and trust, in the real world, has led to oddities like the Mameluke armies (where muslims, unwilling to break Mohammud's prohibition of fratricide, enslaved Turkic and non-muslim peoples to build armies sufficient to fight their wars) and the slave beaurocrats of ancient Constantinople who wielded enormous powers of life and death over the ordinary (and not enslaved) citizenry, principally by acting as a proxy for the caliphate.

Of course, in the end, the Mamelukes realized who was holding the sword and took power for themselves.

Haj

(I apologise for bad spelling, but I'm only a monkey after all)

[storm_crow]

interesting, thank you very much haj i will see what I can do...

[storm_crow]

(sorry for the double post but I needed to catch the attention)

ok so i edited the first post with Haj's sujestions, thus cure common disease potions became balms, medicine, herbs and such...and some argonians are part of the raids to make sure the aboriginals feel safe.

Tell me what you think!

[storm_crow]

I'm so sorry I didn't check after i edited the first post to see if everything worked and it seemed the edited version had not been properly pasted...

Anyhow, here is the actual version edited with haj's tips. If someone like Jacurutu could take it for reviewing (or whatever you do with sumitted books) or if someone would like to add gramatical and spelling help, I would greatly appreciate. Thank you.


Last Words of a Dres Nobleman

Finally, finally my life comes to a close and I can go to rest as my fathers did before me and be honoured by the future generations at the Waiting Doors. Not that I regret my life, it was certainly a good life as far as the life of the Alt-Julan goes. That is exactly why I have chosen this night, so close to the end, to write this book by the candlelight, for my son and for the sons of the other noblemen of our great house be able to take what we have left them and continue to honor the traditions that had made Dres the richest house.

As my son is now, I too was once young and full of hope, waiting for my father’s death, the key to obtaining the family heritage, the one thing that could make me wealthy and powerful in one moment. Lucky for me I was also very wise when the time came and I received the plantation, along with all the slaves and Gha’Kogo soldiers and guards.

I spent my first year as an Overseer watching in the dark, my father’s old councillor basically told me what to do. Finally, I started to learn all the responsibilities that had been given to me. Two choices were before me, either continue living with the councillor telling me what to do, or truly take over the reigns of the family heritage and live my own life, while risking all that my ancestors had created before me. The decision was not hard to make, I sent off the old councillor who was draining away too much of ‘my’ money, and went through all the other Gha’Kogo, and replaced those that I thought to be unfit for ‘my’ estate.

The first thing my councillor told me was that we needed more slaves, all the cats and a few lizards had died during a contagious outbreak. I assembled some guard and soldiers, and the general that led ‘my’ small Gha’Kogo army in the manor, and we discussed for a whole night, planning a raid in the black marsh.

A party of ten men left the next week, they were strong and ready, and they were packed with weapons and food. However, one terrible mistake was made, one that I would never forget in the future. Over the years one very strong-willed Cat female had managed to impress my father and had won a post as the top servant in the manor. Seeing no inconvenience to her running errands around the estate I kept her there, but not for long. This slave was given the job to buy a stock of medicine for the expedition. It turns out the salves and ointments the dumb creature had bought were spoiled, and the medicines had been of to weak quality to fight the terrible Black Marsh fevers. Only one of the party members returned to us, carrying on his back the boil riddled body of his dead mate, the eight others had also perished from the diseases that fermented in the murky swamp water. I personally took care of the stupid slaves case by sending her to a rather nasty slave pit filled with male brutes that, so the slave-master tolled me, hadn’t seen females in more than a year. Knowing the beastly manners of these violent and perverted males, I don’t think the servant had a very good time.

The next raid we planned was better prepared. Thirty men were sent out, each carrying his own bag of medicine, healing herbs and bandages, without counting the two healers that were accompanying the group. After two weeks the party returned successfully with about fifty young lizard slaves. Thirty were sent to the plantations and I sold the rest to the slave pits. It turned out they were of excellent quality, being mostly young males.

In the months that followed I organized many new expeditions to discover new tribes and find slave hotspots in the swampland. One of my friends who owned a large plantation east of mine was also murdered in hazy conditions, since he had no son and little family I took over his lands and incorporated his wife and three daughters in my own household. On my precious helper’s advice I also began giving weekly speeches to the slaves in the plantations. I became a specialist at talking to them, lying to them in different manners, and in the end convincing them they had no choice but to remain slaves to me for it was their best option for survival. I also started sending out old argonians with the raid expeditions. I would talk to them a bit and offer them significant sums of money, and they would trudge along with the raiding parties, helping to convince the wild lizard-men that they were to follow my men back to my plantation without questioning. The fruits of all these labours were soon collected as my wealth grew significantly in two years without any slave rebellions whatsoever.

The ancestors gave me a daughter and two sons, the oldest I married with my deceased friend’s daughter, and the youngest who drives the guards in the plantations lives in the shadow of his older brother, who is bound to the family heritage. All has been arranged, a letter has been sent to each of my children, I have arranged for my youngest son to join the temple, he must serve as priest for I know him, and his jealousy will drive him to madness.

And now sons of all Dres noblemen may you listen to the words of a dying man, may you listen to the whispers of the ancestral spirits through the Waiting Doors. May the traditions of our great house be still honoured for all generations to come, may the humans leave our land, and may we stay strong and mighty through...

(editor’s note: here it would seem the quill of our valiant Dres noblemen failed to go further, as the spirit of the deceased man was sent to oblivion)

(TERRIBLY sorry for the triple post, I will personally whip myself multiple times in order to be excused and gain the favor of the moderators)

[storm_crow]

Would it be possible for an editor to correct what's to be correcte din this book so it could maybe if it's good enough be added in BoT...it would be also lovely to know what people think so i can continue work on my study of Dres and its slave trade.

thanks

[Jacurutu]

Oy, editors, get over here and do a bloody review! It would be greatly appreciated.

storm, I'm gonna let someone else do a review of this b/c I've been away for a while and need to catch up with all of this.

[Theo]

I am still unsure whether I am the one to do grammar checks of English speaking members with my appaling knowledge of English, but let's get the ball rolling.

I'll do the check in the evening, right? Now I have to go and read some Wittgenstein.

[storm_crow]

Thanks Jac, and don't worry, I understand you have alot of catching up to do after your 'vacation'! 8)

[Theo]

Last Words of a Dres Nobleman

Finally! Finally my life comes to the end and I can go to rest, as my fathers did before me and be honoured by the future generations at the Waiting Doors.
Not that I regret my life, it was certainly a good life as far as the life of the Alt-Julan goes. That is exactly why I have chosen this night, so close to the end, to write this book by the candlelight, for my son and for the sons of the other noblemen of our great house be able to take what we have left them and continue to honor the traditions that had made Dres the richest house.
(I personally prefer not using too complicated and structured sentences, but I think they might possibly fit with the style of this book. Give it a thought anyway.)
As my son is now, I too was once young and full of hope, waiting for my father’s death, the key to obtaining the family heritage, the one thing that could make me wealthy and powerful in one moment. Luckily for me, I was also very wise, when the time came and I received the plantation (no comma) along with all the slaves and Gha’Kogo soldiers and guards.

I spent my first year as an Overseer watching in the dark; my father’s old councillor basically told me what to do. Finally, I started to learn about all the responsibilities that had been given to me.
Two choices were before me, either to continue living with the councillor telling me what to do, or to truly take over the reigns of the family heritage and live my own life, while risking all that my ancestors had created before me. The decision was not hard to make, I sent off the old councillor who was draining away too much of ‘my’ money, (no 'and') went through all the other Gha’Kogo and replaced those that I thought to be unfit for ‘my’ estate.

The first thing my councillor told me was that we needed more slaves; all the cats and a few lizards had died during a contagious outbreak.
I assembled some guard and soldiers, and the general that led ‘my’ small Gha’Kogo army in the manor (no comma) and we discussed for a whole night, planning a raid in the Black Marsh.

A party of ten men left the next week, they were strong and ready, and they were packed with weapons and food. However, one terrible mistake was made. One that I would never forget in the future.
Over the years one very strong-willed Cat female had managed to impress my father and had won a post as the top servant in the manor. Seeing no inconvenience to her running errands around the estate, I kept her there, but not for long.
This slave was given the job to buy a stock of medicine for the expedition. It turned out that the salves and ointments the dumb creature had bought were spoiled (no comma) and the medicines had been of too low quality to fight the terrible Black Marsh fevers.
Only one of the party members returned to us, carrying on his back the boil-riddled body of his dead mate; the eight others had also perished from the diseases that fermented in the murky swamp water.
I personally took care of that stupid slave's case by sending her to a rather nasty slave pit filled with male brutes that, so the slave-master told me, hadn’t seen females for more than one year.
Knowing the beastly manners of these violent and perverted males, I don’t think the servant had a very good time.

The next raid we planned was better prepared. Thirty men were sent out, each carrying his own bag of medicine, healing herbs and bandages, without counting the two healers that were accompanying the group.
After two weeks the party returned successfully with about fifty young lizard slaves. Thirty were sent to the plantations and I sold the rest to the slave pits. It turned out they were of excellent quality, being mostly young males.

In the months that followed I organized many new expeditions to discover new tribes and to find slave hotspots in the swampland.
One of my friends, who owned a large plantation east of mine, was also murdered in hazy conditions. Since he had no son and little family I took over his lands and incorporated his wife and three daughters in my own household.
On my precious helper’s advice I also began giving weekly speeches to the slaves in the plantations. I became a specialist at talking to them, lying to them in different ways and in the end convincing them they had no choice but to remain slaves of mine, for it was their best option for survival.
I also started sending out old Argonians with the raid expeditions. I would talk to them a bit and offer them significant sums of money (no comma) and they would trudge along with the raiding parties, helping to convince the wild lizard-men that they were to follow my men back to my plantation without questioning.
The fruits of all these labours were soon collected, as my wealth grew significantly in two years without any slave rebellions whatsoever.

The ancestors gave me a daughter and two sons, the older I married with my deceased friend’s daughter, and the younger who drives the guards in the plantations.
He lives in the shadow of his older brother, who is bound to the family heritage.
All has been arranged, a letter has been sent to each of my children, I have arranged for my younger son to join the temple. He must serve as a priest for I know his jealousy will drive him to madness.

And now sons of all Dres noblemen, may you listen to the words of a dying man! May you listen to the whispers of the ancestral spirits through the Waiting Doors! May the traditions of our great house be still honoured for all generations to come and may the humans leave our land! May we stay strong and mighty through...

(editor’s note: here it would seem the quill of our valiant Dres noblemen failed to go further, as the spirit of the deceased man was sent to the Oblivion)

[storm_crow]

Thanks alot Theo, I'll post the edited version in a day or two...

[storm_crow]

Ok, so here is the corrected/edited version of the book. Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Last Words of a Dres Nobleman

Finally! Finally my life comes to the end and I can go to rest, as my fathers did before me and be honoured by the future generations at the Waiting Doors. Not that I regret my life, it was certainly a good life as far as the life of the Alt-Julan goes. That is exactly why I have chosen this night, so close to the end, to write this book by the candlelight, for my son and for the sons of the other noblemen of our great house be able to take what we have left them and continue to honour the traditions that had made Dres the richest house.

As my son is now, I too was once young and full of hope, waiting for my father’s death, the key to obtaining the family heritage, the one thing that could make me wealthy and powerful in one moment. Luckily for me, I was also very wise, when the time came and I received the plantation along with all the slaves and Gha’Kogo soldiers and guards.

I spent my first year as an Overseer watching in the dark; my father’s old councillor basically told me what to do. Finally, I started to learn about the responsibilities that had been given to me. Two choices were before me, either to continue living with the councillor telling me what to do, or to truly take over the reigns of the family heritage and live my own life, while risking all that my ancestors had created before me. The decision was not hard to make, I sent off the old councillor who was draining away too much of ‘my’ money, went through all the other Gha’Kogo and replaced those that I thought to be unfit for ‘my’ estate.

The first thing my new councillor told me was that we needed more slaves; all the cats and a few lizards had died during a contagious outbreak. I assembled some guard and soldiers, and the general that led ‘my’ small Gha’Kogo army in the manor and we discussed for a whole night, planning a raid in Black Marsh.

A party of ten men left the next week, they were strong and ready, and they were packed with weapons and food. However, one terrible mistake was made. One that I would never forget in the future. Over the years one very strong-willed Cat female had managed to impress my father and had won a post as the top servant in the estate. Seeing no inconvenience to her running errands around the estate, I kept her there, but not for long. This slave was given the job to buy a stock of medicine for the expedition. It turned out the salves and ointments the dumb creature had bought were spoiled and the medicines had been of too low quality to fight the terrible Black Marsh fevers. Only one of the party members returned to us, carrying on his back the boil-riddled body of his dead mate; the eight others had also perished from the diseases that fermented in the murky swamp water. I personally took care of that stupid slave’s case by sending her to a rather nasty slave pit filled with male brutes that, so the slave-master told me, hadn’t seen females for more than one year. Knowing the beastly manners of these violent and perverted males, I don’t think the servant had a very good time.

The next raid we planned was better prepared. Thirty men were sent out, each carrying their own bag of medicine, healing herbs and bandages, without counting the two healers that were accompanying the group. After two weeks the party returned successfully with about fifty young lizard slaves. Thirty were sent to the plantations and I sold the rest to the slave pits. It turned out they were of excellent quality, being mostly young males.

In the months that followed I organized many new expeditions to discover new tribes and to find slave hotspots in the swampland. One of my friends, who owned a large plantation east of mine, was also murdered in hazy conditions. Since he had no son and little family I took over his lands and incorporated his wife and three daughters in my own household. On my precious helper’s advice I also began giving weekly speeches to the slaves in the plantations. I became a specialist at talking to them, lying to them in different ways, and in the end convincing them they had no choice but to remain slaves of mine, for it was their best option for survival. I also started sending out old Argonians with the raid expeditions. I would talk to them a bit and offer them significant sums of money as well as freedom and they would trudge along with the raiding parties, helping to convince the wild lizard-men that they were to follow my men back to my plantation without questioning. The fruits of all these labours were soon collected, as my wealth grew significantly in two years without any slave rebellions whatsoever.

The ancestors gave me a daughter and two sons, the older I married with my deceased friend’s daughter, and the younger who now drives the guards in the plantations. He lives in the shadow of his older brother, who is bound to the family heritage. All has been arranged, letters have been sent to each of my children, I have arranged for my younger son to join the temple. He must serve as a priest for I know his jealousy will drive him to madness.

And now sons of all Dres noblemen, may you listen to the words of a dying man! May you listen to the whispers of the ancestral spirits through the Waiting Doors! May the traditions of our great house be still honoured for all generations to come and may the humans leave our land! May we stay strong and mighty through...

(editor’s note: here it would seem the quill of our valiant Dres noblemen failed to go further, as the spirit of the deceased man was sent to oblivion)

[storm_crow]

I'd like to know if anyone has any other lore/grammar corrections to do. I'd like to wrap up this book if possible.