An autobiography by luke

I was born in The Fall. The Fall, for those of you who don’t know your history, was a period of time when a group of magicians had discovered a spell. When cast, this spell caused two things: 1) Bottomless pits started randomly and instantly appearing everywhere; 2) Every once in a while if someone was jumping, they would continue going up for around ten seconds and then drop back down to the ground. So there was a lot of falling­­thus the name “The Fall” (we weren’t very creative then). It was disaster because civilization could not thrive because a random hole would pop up and devour the town. The pits had no regular size. They could be as small as an acorn or as large as a pyramid!

I lived in Egypt as a lector priest which in my time meant that I was on the higher end of all magicians (as priests were basically magicians). I was one of few people who could read and write hieroglyphs in my time. I was thought highly of, trusted, and in general was like the pharaoh himself because there were very few lector priests, and even fewer that followed Egyptian laws. Oh, and lector priests were VERY powerful. So they gave me their best horse and two of their best men when I said I saw a strange purple glow coming from a hill. Everyone­­well, at least me, had their hopes up because this glow could be coming from

the magicians that caused The Fall. As I was leaving, I could hear the excited whispers from the townsfolk as I left to find out what the purple glow was about.

I was in my best shape: A brown hunk of muscle. I was a 5’6”, gleaming shirtless hunk of muscle. The men beside me had a spindly frame, but I wasn’t going to say that. They could paralyze me with a single poke and could outrun even the fastest thief. Keeping that in mind as I engaged in light conversation with them, I noticed that the purple glow was glowing brighter for no reason I could understand. As we rode toward the hill, it continued to grow brighter and brighter until I could barely keep my eyes on it. When we finally reached the hill, we had to ditch our horses because it was extremely steep.

We started climbing the hill, when all of a sudden the earth trembled and one of the men fell to the very bottom of the hill. I think he was paralyzed, which I thought was extremely ironic because during his life he had often paralyzed other people. We continued going up with a bit more of a nervous air, when a pit appeared in front of the other man and, unable to stop his momentum, he fell into it.

The appearance of the pit made me much more nervous, but at the same time extremely excited, because this almost surely meant the magicians that caused The Fall were causing the purple glow. I continued at a brisk pace and finally reached the top of the hill. I then saw a man covered in metal, wearing around his head a leather headband with twoglass circles over the eyes­­which I later discovered were called “goggles”. I instantly seized him by the neck thinking he was one of the magicians that had caused The Fall.

He slowly opened his blue eyes and asked (I am removing his cursing here) “What are you doing!?”

I responded with a creepy calmness “You started The Fall, you shall pay.”

The strange metal man responded (once again I am removing all cursing) “What’s The Fall?”

“You know what The Fall is. You caused it.”

“I haven’t caused anything. I don’t know anything, except I do understand the language you are speaking.”

“You are in a place called Egypt,” I said.

“Oh Egypt!. You are the guys that built all those pyramids right? Why did you do that? It took so much time, cost so many resources, and killed so many people.”

I didn’t even dignify that with a response. “Okay, okay you like your pyramids. Who are you?” “I am Aldo Strog, lector priest for the great Pharaoh of Egypt!”

“Could you help me? As you can see I am in a little bit of a situation right now. I have no place to live, I have no source of income, I have no idea where anything is, and I can’t remember anything. Did I say that already? How did you find me anyway?”

“Well it is usually pretty easy to find people that are surrounded by a purple glow. You know, as a general rule.”

“Look, I have no idea what happened. And as I said before, if you leave me here I am screwed. Could you help me? Maybe tell me a couple of things besides your high and mighty title?”

“Tell me first. Who are you?”

“I (Drumroll) am...uhhhhh.....just give me a second.....don’t tell me....come on, brain.....Okay, I think I forgot. Just call me Alexander. Alexander Froth! Oh, I just remembered something! You wanna see a magic trick?”

I didn’t think “magic” and “trick” belonged in the same sentence, and since all of my brainpower was devoted to calm my bubbling rage, I took my arms away from his throat, and simply responded, “Yes.”

“Great. Have you guys obtained copper yet? Because I need that. And a lot of it.”

“We have it, but I do not have any on me. We will have to go back to the town to get some.”

“How do we get there? Do you have horses or something?”

“No we ditched them because it was too steep on the way up here.”

“Alright. Could you get me out of the mess I’m in. This use to be my clothing, I guess, but now it is just hunks of metal.”

After a long period of time we finally got Alexander Froth out of the metal. He did not thank me. He did not compliment me on how good my robes were. He did not give me any kind of polite or gracious gesture so I didn’t tell him where all the loose rocks were. He had a fun time on the way down figuring out which ones were loose and which ones weren’t. As we finally got to level ground, I told him that it was going to be a very long journey. He gave me a stare that, if it would solidified, could melt a chunk of cement.

As we started on the path I told him of all the dangers on the path we were headed on and maybe exaggerated just a little bit so that he would look a little more carefully. I told him of a ferocious beast that would jump out of the sand and eat you alive and the only way you could see them was if you were looking at the spot they were at for a full minute. Now, admittedly, that was not entirely true. Sometimes one picks up the sand a little bit and it flies toward you. And as you might know you can see sand without looking at it for a whole minute. I also told him that if you were to slow down and stop for a second the beast would force him to lie down and watch as he was broiled by the sun.

I was having a fantastic time frightening him but after a while we reached the village. To settle any fears he might have I told him that all the beasts were afraid of large groups of people and he would be safe at the village. We started to go to the copper mine. I told him that there was no way a foreigner could get copper for free so he would have to mine it himself. He agreed and they got him a pick axe, there are some perks to being a lector priest. He was very clumsy at it but he saw what the other workers were doing and slowly got the hang of it.

After a while, when he got a large load, he asked why it did not look like the copper he was used to dealing with. I told him it was not finished copper and he probably worked with smelted copper as it would be pointless and hard to use cold copper. He realized the truth of what I said and I told him where to smelt the copper. When we got there he shoved the copper into the furnace and waited. When I saw what he was doing I laughed because,

and I told him this, you need coal or something very flammable to melt the copper. He gathered some fuel and shoved it into the furnace. I laughed again because of his extreme stupidity and told him he had to light the flammable thing on fire so that it would get hotter. At this point he finally got it to work and he found himself with the copper that he needed. He asked for a hammer which was easy to provide so I gave him one. He started building something while obscuring it from my view with his body, got some more copper, lit more flammable materials, and build it again. And he did it again. And he did it again. He did it so many times I don’t think my wrist could handle telling you how many times he did it.

Over time the whole village began watching as he repeated the task over and over. Then one time he came out of the mine with a smile on his face. The copper mine was not a place where most people had a smile so I asked him why he did. He told me this was the last one he had to do. At this point he asked to go away and not look at what he was building as it was getting too large for him to obscure with his body. One of the weavers gave him a curtain so he could hide it from everyone.

As he finished building he screamed as loud as he could to get everyone’s attention and said “Ladies and gentlemen this is why you feed me and you cloth me.” As he pulled open the curtains I no longer wondered why he had come in a purple glow. This man was special.

TO BE CONTINUED.

Becca's Mesopotamia Story

"KANAIRA!"
A young girl poked her head through the door, a thick black braid falling over one shoulder. Dark brown eyes nearly hidden under side bangs and a mass of freckles, she carefully slunk into the kitchen, performed a customary bow, and replied, "Yes, Awari?"
A dark skinned woman was hunched over a clay pot in a corner of her kitchen, mouth twisted into a fiercely determined line. She extended her arm, snapped her dusty fingers, and kept stirring with her left hand.  "Get me the- the-"
Kanaira shook her head and groped around the cupboard Awari was pointing at until her fingers closed around a glass bottle. On her tiptoes, she carefully drew it out, set it on the counter, and closed the cupboard. Awaria nodded a thanks and, without hesitation, dumped the contents of the jar into the bowl. Kanaira shrieked.
"AI YAI YAI!" screamed the teenaged girl, hands flying to her head. Awari leaned calmly against the counter, still stirring. "AWARI, ARE YOU INSANE? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?!??"
Awari, relaxed as ever, lazily picked up the bottle and flipped it over in her fingers to find the label.
Then she dropped it, almost spat in disbelief, and threw the pitcher out the window.
It smashed through the glass, knocked out a windowpane and cracked against the hardpacked dirt outside before bursting into flame. Awari and Kanaira stared through the shattered window in silence, as fire crawled along the edges of the container and disappeared into the ground.
Kanaira sighed and dug out a new bowl. "Next time, check."




IRARRA PICKED AT his lamb, lips pursed as he folded up a piece in his bread. Sitting stiffly at the other end of the table, Awari shifted her plate from side to side and bit back an exhausted sigh; she was required to sit at the table until he finished eating.
He was eating very slowly.
Awari held back another sigh. "How was your wo-"
"Quiet," he snapped.
Both of them paused in silence, holding a tense moment of stillness. He returned to his food as Awari raised an eyebrow; unfortunately, he caught her doing so, reached across, and grabbed her wrist. Pain crawling up her arm, Awari remained still, knowing a movement could bring her injury.
Irarra let his slitted eyes wander up to her face, cold with anger. Awari swallowed, tasting blood in the corners of her mouth. At ease, Irarra returned to his food and Awari sat stiffly upright. Blood rang in her ears; she tugged away from her husband very slightly. His grip tightened instantly.
"Listen, filth," growled Irarra; Awari could feel his fingers digging into her veins. "The only reason you're here and not on the streets is me. If not for me, you'd be starving in alleys selling shawls, so watch your mouth, dirt."
Before she could stop herself she replied, "I am not dirt."
Irarra stared at her in stunned disbelief and Awari stared right back in horror. Fear raced through every vein in her body, piercing her everywhere. Irarra raised his hand; she knew that if she was not killed now the court would drown her later; her life flashed before her eyes and then she smashed into the wall behind her, Irarra snarling with a glare in his eyes.
"You dare," he gasped, advancing, "defy me, the vizier of Na-"
"I am not dirt," growled Awari, overcome with defiance. Irarra stepped forward and raised his hand; a river of blue light streamed out of his palm, curling around his ankle, and then it snapped towards a frightened and confused Awari. Hard as a rock, it struck her against the legs and she collapsed to the ground. Irarra took another step forward, eyes glowing a pale gold. He opened his mouth to speak and then suddenly closed it, as if he possessed a second spirit. Awari growled.
"Just because you tricked the government doesn't mean you can fool me," she hissed, fists curling at her sides as Irarra kept trying to speak. A voice rang through her head, striking a cord within every part of her brain. She took a step forward and extended her hand; before she knew it there was a snarling, full size leopard in front of her.
Irarra stared.
"Impossible," he gasped, eyes wide. "You, hosting a goddess?"
Rage boiled through Awari's chest; shock, too, but she wouldn't let him see that. "Don't act so surprised, Irarra, I wouldn't have expected it from you either."
Irarra curled his lips in a grudgingly amused smirk. "Classy."
Awari glared at him.
"Get out."
"What?"
The leopard snarled.
"Get out, now."
"Peasant, you forget that this my house; if anyone is leaving it shall be you."
"I could kill you any day."
"Really?"
Awari glowered at him fiercely, with burning eyes. "Yes. Get. Out."
Irarra looked back at her coldly. "I will leave. But you forgot one thing of yours which has, and will always be, mine."
Confused, she let him walk to the door and then asked, "What?"
He paused and shot her a sickly smile, before sweeping out the door. "Kanaira."


"I don't know. What do I do? I can't just leave her; I don't know what pain will come to her with him!"
The leopard looked back at her, perched atop the kitchen counter. Dust had already collected in the ridges along its shoulders; it crouched down, rippling with muscle, waiting for a command. Awari sighed, slamming the meat cleaver down onto the counter.
"I don't know- what to do," she panted, heaving the knife out of the countertop; it had cut through like butter. "Can you give me an answer? A sign? Something?"
It licked its paw. Then it spoke.
Awari screamed, nearly slamming into the roof - it had spoken a single word, "no", but that was enough to freak anyone out. It resumed licking its paw, warm gold eyes staring up at her, and said no more as Awari stared at it. The woman clutched her chest, nearly having a heart attack.
"You- you-"
It looked at her disapprovingly, making a sound as though it were whistling through its teeth. Atilla. Atilla. Atilla.
"Your name," guessed Awari; the leopard didn't move, but continued to wash itself, swiping a wet paw over its ear.
Its ear, her ear. Whatever.
For the next hour, Awari paced around the kitchen in a fit of dismay, while Atilla explored the house, knocking over pots and spilling food with the swish of a tail. When Awari finally came to her senses, she found the house such a mess that it was unbearable, and so packed up food and clothes and her bow and left with Atilla trailing behind her(obviously pleased with herself).
"Well," said Awari, sighing lightly as they left the house behind, "I suppose that was a sign too, hm?"
Atilla bounced alongside her.
"I don't even know where we're going," confessed Awari, shifting her pack. "I don't know what I'm doing; I just have to get Kanaira. Ow!"
Atilla had nipped Awari's hand, trying to get her attention. Awari held herself back from swatting Atilla(the well meaning leopard had left a large, red mark) and paused. The feline stood, staring at her, until Awari began walking again; the leopard jerked her head left, towards the market - dusty, bright, full of commoners. Awari raised an eyebrow, shrugged and headed straight in.
Each aisle was crowded with stands carrying oversize fruits - dark-speckled pears, crushed and overripe figs, dates, brilliantly purple plums, huge wreaths of brightly green grapes wrapping around the tents - or disks of unleavened bread in different shades of brown, some slathered with butter, some spicy and red. Otherwise they held jugs of creamy-white milk, containers of lightly yellow butter, jars of salt, preserved fish, deer, nuts,  herbs, olives - everything. Across the aisle from the market goods lay the property of the farmers; goats in gray and brown and black, shaggy donkeys with stripes of gold on their backs, black and white sheep in a mess of tangled wool, lean gray dogs and massive brown cattle with painted horns. The entire alley rang with noise, people yelling and dogs baying and children screeching. Awari looked around in shock and then grinned; this, she had never seen the likes of before.
No one seemed to notice Atilla, or rather, this might have been a common sight in a market where people from pretty much everywhere gathered. As it was, they spent a while meandering the market, picking up breads here, fruits there, a donkey, a dagger. At a significantly later time they set off toward the sunset, having gathered info about Irarra and his "passenger"'s whereabouts from spies and urchins in the market, and feeling both comfortably full and uncomfortably in danger.

IRARRA AND KANAIRA WERE found in Babylon, but by the time Atilla and Awari arrived they were both nearly dead. They had almost drowned crossing a river, had been bitten by mosquitos too many times to count, were nearly completely dehydrated, and severely bruised everywhere from fights with animals, thieves, and various monsters - werewolves, edimmu(people not properly buried so that they would roam the earth eternally), a vampire. The only thing keeping them alive was the promise of food, for Atilla, and Kanaira, for Awari.
There was something else, too. Nagging at the back of their minds. Pushing them onward. Something they didn't know about.
A bigger plan.

PERCHED ON HIS THRONE in Heaven, Enlil sighed. Fingers glowing just as they always did, he slashed a hand through the mist in front of him and watched it disappear; then he stood and walked over to the edge of Heaven and sat down, dangling his legs over the side. He could almost reach the clouds from there, always so close and yet so untouchable, and in a fit of melancholy he swirled his feet around just above the atmosphere, yearning to walk .
the Earth once more.
He had done it once, walked around Mesopotamia with the humans, laughed and ate and sang, and then common sense came back and he returned to Heaven with an unsatiable thirst in his heart to be with man.
And he was going to do it again, soon; and this time he would stay.
Enlil did, however, need a sacrifice, from both the humans and the gods; then he would bestow his power onto Antu, lose his glow, and live with the people again.
But now was not the time. Soon.
He flipped over to lay down on his chest and extended his arms into the Atmosphere, fingers clutching at Antarctica, and brought the Earth up to face level, bright blue eyes observing the continents. Sun, in the background, scooched closer so the humans wouldn't freeze, close enough to warm Enlil's face as well.
Pleasantly warm, he breathed lightly onto Mesopotamia; and so the clouds cleared and Sun, Enlil's little child, shone brightly, and his son brought warmth to the people, glowing brightly, fiercely. A pang of guilt rose in Enlil's chest that there was only one race to enjoy the beauty of life, and he set the Earth down on a cushion of air and rocked back onto his knees to grab his clay.
As he fashioned the first human of a new race, Enlil thought about his return to the world, at his light being so subdued that the humans could really see him - right now even the gods couldn't see him, he shone so bright. Right now he was only a cap. A simple blue cap that had created the first life, the first society, the first things.
Enlil's weathered fingers delicately set down the figure and brought the Earth up to his gaze again; grabbing a curved lens out of thin air, he zoomed in on an untouched continent, a yellowish green blob. The curves and crags bothered him; crudely, without bothering to think, he smashed in the top right side, creating an appealing dip inward. Satisfied, he zoomed in more, searched around, found a place. From his fingers flowed forth a river, rolling and fighting against him, but when he set it down it flowed with ease: the Nile. And next to this he put the human, a cow, trees, wildlife; and so Egypt was born and Enlil watched in contentment as the cities grew, people were born, people died. In his next blink Egypt was thriving, independent, no longer needing him.
He turned away.
And then Enlil turned back to Mesopotamia instead, turned to his sacrifices almost connected. At last. They were close, so close, almost touching, almost there. Excitement roared in his chest; he would be back with the people, existing, living, thriving, ignoring. To ignore the responsibilities of the gods - to be submissive, to be ignorant instead all-knowing, to be irresponsible, accountable, unknowing. Enlil would know nothing and it would be a paradise.
He turned away again.
Soon.


ATILLA SNARLED.
Crouching beneath a stand of yellowing grasses, Awari's bowstring hummed against her fingers, holding an arrow, holding the promise of a better life. Just beyond, far enough to be slightly hazy in the heat, Irarra and Kanaira stood by the riverside with a pack mule and a lean grey dog. Awari could sense Atillas disgust: that is no challenge.
The bow hummed again, twisting against her fingers; she crawled forward, trying not to make any noise as Atilla followed her silently, with ease. Irarra took no notice, beginning to heave the packs off the donkey.
Then he began to glow.
At first it was only a soft blue light leaking out through the seams in his clothing. But then it began pouring out from all over his body: streaming through his temples, flowing out his fingertips, rushing out his shoes, his lips, his nose, his ears. He began to jerk, flailing around uncontrollably, twitching, snapping, whirling. And at last he opened his mouth and coughed, and a blue cap fell out of his mouth. Irarra collapsed to the ground, panting, heaving; and then the cap flew up and an amazingly intense light flew all around the river bank, blinding both Atilla and Awari temporarily.   


“TAKE IT,” snapped Enlil, shoving the world into Apsu’s hands. “Take it!”
Stumbling, Apsu clutched the sphere tightly. “Where are you-”
It was too late. A bright white light was now glowing from Babylon, casting a stark light across Mesopotamia. Apsu shook the Earth furiously; Enlil was breaking all the rules.


“ERRA.”
“Enlil.”
“You came.”
The two voices alternated in tone; one surprised, the other smug, the first now cold. Both were voices Awari had never heard before, deep, rumbling, one almost a growl. She opened her eyes and pain shot across her forehead; she squeezed them shut again, groping for Atilla, listening.
“This is the human?”
“It is not worthy?”
“More than I expected.”
They were talking about Kanaira. Her servant, her child.
“And where is Antu?”
Longing rose in Awari’s chest, unexpected and uncalled for.
“ANTU!”
Don’t. Speak.
“ANTU! ANSWER ME!”
“Enlil!” called out Awari before she could stop herself. The voice bubbling through her throat was not her own.
“Antu - not a good host?” The first voice, sounding amused. Eyes still closed, Awari or Antu or whoever it was dragged herself toward the voices.
“Open your eyes.”
Her eyelids snapped open, cooperative, apparently. A pale blue cap was bobbing in the sun, straddled over a blindingly bright light. A glowing hand reached out and touched her forehead. The entire world dimmed, giving features to the light, casting a kicking Kanaira and cruelly amused Irarra into relief.
“Did you tell her?” Enlil stared at Awari, his blurry facial features contorting into surprise. Awari shook her head no(or rather, it was sort of Antu’s head - at this point, the same thing.)
The cap-man-god-being leveled his gaze to her. “You are a sacrifice.”
And a knife she had not seen before rammed into her chest.
A numbingly frozen pain spread through her ribcage as Irarra, beside her, poured out golden blood. Enlil stared at them with a look of pity and sorrow and excitement on his barely defined face; his hands reached out to wash in the gold that streamed for their wounds; Atilla lay twitching beside them; Awari understood, at last, that she was both Antu and herself and both were being used for the sake of their creator.
When at last Irarra and Awari fell to the ground, Enlil dimmed. He became a young man of about twenty - lean, richly clothed, brown-haired, blue eyed. His cap remained to remind him of the sacrifice he had forced others to make; it would not come off no matter what he did and at last he stood there in bittersweet ecstasy.
“Sleep,” Enlil murmured, closing the eyes of his subjects, straightening Atilla’s curled body. “Apsu, take care of the earth. Love it.”
And he turned and disappeared, into a world which, he realized, contained the gods’ hell and more to compensate - a world holding all the devils he had never had to tamper with.
Yet.

Assyrian Siege on Jerusalem

Namhu ran a long-fingered hand through his short black hair.  He was walking through the market of his homeland, Assyria.  A war-oriented city-state, it was part of Mesopotamia, constantly fighting battles with its neighbors.  Namhu stalked around people, bright green eyes flicking from stand to stand.  He saw meat, something that most people couldn’t afford; mostly wheat and barley; clay pots that were reddish-brown; and many weapons made from bronze.  They dully reflected the bright sun, making them glow with a gold-brown light.  Namhu stopped to look at the swords, spears, and arrows.  He knew he was very clumsy with most weapons, but he could shoot an arrow fairly straight.  He shook his head and walked past, trying not to get sidetracked.  His mother had sent him to buy barley, and so he made his way over to the nearest stall selling the stuff.

He asked for a gur-cube of barley, which was about twice the size of an average person’s head, and put it in the big clay pot his mother had given him.  He thanked the old woman at the stall, and stopped at the weapons stand when he was leaving.  He had brought some spending money for himself, and his old bow had broken recently.  He picked up a wooden arc and pulled the piece of sinew back.  It was too loose.  He picked up another one, and pulled back the string.  It did well, but the bow itself was too small.   He finally decided on a plain wooden frame about the length of his leg, which was very lightweight.  It came with 20 bronze-tipped arrows and a small quiver.  All of this cost him two or three months’ worth of his money, which he earned by helping on farms or setting up stands at market.  Thanking the man at the stand, he walked backwards and nearly tripped over a short, duck-like man who had stopped behind him.  As Namhu turned around, he noticed that this man, who was leaned against a stall with a jug of beer in his hand, wore the clothes of a messenger.  He was talking and laughing with others, but when he saw Namhu, he looked up and straightened, and almost tripped over his own feet.

“Oh!  Hello, boy.  I- Assyria is going to war.”

Namhu stared.

The man continued, “Yeah, I thought you might know that”, he laughed.  “You will need to bring your weapon, and whatever else you want.”

“’Where are we going?” managed Namhu in a trembling voice.

“You will meet here tomorrow at daybreak, and from here you will march to Jerusalem, about a two weeks’ journey.”

With that, he turned and continued talking to the locals.  Sighing, Namhu walked through the market, wanting to get home and talk with his younger brother, sisters, and parents.  He had turned sixteen about three months previously, and this was going to be his first war.  As he thought, Namhu made his way out of the main streets, to near where his family lived.  Once he arrived at his home, he hurried along the path, and into his family’s garden.  The heads of war prisoners hung in the trees, staring emptily at any soul who came in.  Their yellowing skin made their features look grotesque and sunken, their teeth were mostly missing.  They were a sign of the strength in the family, and with the number that his father had collected over the years, Namhu could tell that no thief would bother them.  As he approached the house, he could hear talking and cooking from the other side of the mud-brick walls.  He made his way to the wooden door, and opening it, was greeted by the scent of a vegetable stew cooking.  His family all turned and greeted him, and his brother, Ubarum, and his father walked towards him.  Ubarum’s large brown eyes were widened with excitement, his coppery hair tangled and messy.  Namhu’s father walked like a bear, his big beard and potbelly showing.  As the two made their way over, Namhu deposited the pot of barley onto the nearest table and revealed the bow.  His brother looked very impresses, and his father looked very proud.

“That is a very nice bow, son.” said Namhu’s father in his booming voice, “Was it a good bargain?”

Ubarum, who was eight and the youngest in the family, looked awe struck.

“Can I try it out?”

“Maybe later”, replied Namhu, smiling at his younger brother’s excitement, “but right now we should eat dinner.”

At the dinner table, Namhu’s father naturally sat at the head.  To his left sat his wife, Namhu’s mother, dark brown hair gleaming, and Elamassi, the eldest daughter at fourteen.  To his right sat Namhu, being the eldest child, and Alittum, the younger daughter who was ten.  At the other end of the table sat Ubarum, who was the youngest of them all.  They all had dark brown eyes, which contrasted very much with Namhu’s green eyes.  Nobody knew where he had gotten them from.  At the dinner table, Namhu’s mother was the first to ask about the market.

“So, how did it go, Namhu?  I saw your new bow, it is very beautiful.  Are you going to practice with it soon?”

Well,” said Namhu,” I was about to mention it.  I met with a messenger, who said that we are going to go to war with Jerusalem.  I wish to try it before I leave tomorrow.  I need to be gone by daybreak.”

There was a silence, and then the whole family erupted into jumbled speech.

“I can’t believe they are doing this now”

“Well, we are all very proud of you”

“You can’t leave, you might get hurt!”

“Can I join you in practice?”

“I will help you pack your things.”

“Father, what will I need to take with me?”, asked Namhu.

“Well”, he replied, “You will definitely need that bow, and you might want to take a sleeping mat, as they have you sleep on the floor.  Take some nuts too, for you may get very hungry.  I have extra arrows that I lost the bow to, and you should take your old ones too.”

“Elamassi, Alittum, will you help me gather these things?” asked Namhu of his sisters.

“Of course!”, exclaimed Elamassi.

Alittum pouted.  “You shouldn’t have to go.  It isn’t fair.”

“Mother, will you prepare some food for tomorrow?”

“Yes, and I will start some tea for you.”

“Father, Ubarum, will you come practice shooting with me?”

“Ooh!  I’ll come with you!” said Ubarum excitedly.

The rest of dinner talk was mostly about preparations for the following day, Elamassi and Alittum talked about the new recipes they had learned, and Ubarum spoke about seeing a rabbit near their house.  The family talked about Jerusalem, and about how Assyria would gain control of them quickly.

Eventually Ubarum, Namhu, and their father went outside, the girls ran off to get supplies, and Namhu’s mother went to go prepare food.  As they trudged outside, weapons slung on their shoulders, the “men” of the family talked about the upcoming war and about once Namhu came back.  Once they reached the outskirts of their near-forest property, Namhu’s father told him to shoot “the tree over there”.  Namhu tried a few times, and finally got used to the bow.  He shot straight after that, and even tried with miscellaneous arrows.  His father was chopping firewood behind him, and Ubarum was watching Namhu while supposedly helping his father.  After practice, they headed back inside and Namhu found a pile of things for him to put in his sack and take.  They sack was embroidered with his name in Cuneiform, from when he was little.  Cuneiform was the language of the Mesopotamians, and was made up of many triangles.  He lay down on his sleeping pallet and drifted off into a nervous slumber.

Namhu awoke to his father shaking his shoulders.  It was still dark out.

“You must leave now, take your things.  Goodbye”, said Namhu’s father.

Without thinking Namhu said goodbye, took his things, and walked out of the door.  He headed straight for the marketplace, and once he had arrived, Namhu saw that there were many other boys and men there.  Because his father had already served, had a family, and was getting old, he didn’t have to go, but Namhu did.  He joined the crowd forming and found himself getting a bit cold.  He stood in place, and soon people started bumping into one another.  He was jostled around, and ended up behind one of his friends, named Abiditan.  He was very tall, kind, and although he came across as very strong and angry, he was a very calm person.  He had slightly longer black hair than Namhu, and the same brown eyes that where common in Assyria.  They talked for a while, and Namhu was informed that his hair was sticking up at odd angles.  He tried flattening it, but eventually let it be.  When the group of men started moving, they trudged along.  By midday, they were moving very fast, but Namhu was hardly breaking a sweat.  He was very good at running, but when it came to fighting, especially hand-to-hand, he was very clumsy and often dropped his weapons.  The big crowd trudged along, and they were soon quite friendly with each other.  After a while of walking, the group settled down for their first meal.  There were people with carts who passed around barley cakes and dates, which were surprisingly filling, at least to Namhu.  While they sat and ate, small groups started to form.  Namhu and Abiditan were alone, until a boy about their age joined them.  He had a small frame and was shorter than most of the men there, and his hair looked sloppily cut.  He had warm brown eyes, and a mole above the corner of his lips.  He wore loose linen around his small shoulders, and baggy pants.  He sat down, not gruffly like everybody else, but slowly and carefully.  He smiled and held out his hand, which was full of dates.

“I am not very hungry, so, you can have these”, he said.

Abiditan raised an eyebrow.  “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.  I don’t eat much.  Here,” said the boy, extending his hand further.

Abiditan took the dates and ate them very quickly, so it was obvious that he was very hungry, and was enjoying the dates.

“Fankoo,” he said through a mouth full of the fruit.

“You’re welcome,” the boy smiled again.

“What is your name?” asked Namhu.

“It is…” the boy delayed himself, “Appanili”, he said, looking content.  After that, Appanili, Namhu, and Abiditan walked together for most of the time.  They walked for many hours, and soon Namhu was carrying the packs of both of them, as he was the one who was the least tired.  They chatted about their families, their hobbies, and about what Jerusalem would be like.  By the time they made it to their camp for the night, even Namhu was exhausted.  After a filling dinner, they lay down their sleeping pallets near the edge of the clearing, and all fell asleep very quickly.  Namhu dreamed that he was at home, eating vegetable stew and fixing his broken bow.

In the morning, the men gathered their things and continued their hike.  They traveled like this for about two weeks, sleeping at night, walking during the day, and eating meals at amazing rates.  Finally, the day came and they arrived at the city of Jerusalem.  Namhu, Appanili, and Abiditan made sure to stick together, and the whole group joined up with other small crowds near the city.  Eventually, so many men from so many towns had gathered, that it became a real Assyrian army.  Men gathered and sharpened their weapons, ate snacks that they had saved, and got ready for battle.

Once the battle had begun, it was total chaos.  Luckily, Namhu had his two very close friends, and he felt a little bit more at ease.  They were positioned closer to the front lines than they had wanted, and while Namhu was shooting arrows in all directions, Abiditan was skillfully using his sword.  Appanili looked dazed and confused, but pulled out some daggers and joined the battle.  After a while, Namhu started to notice all of the blood on the ground.  The Assyrians were now pillaging the whole city, fanning out, and killing many civilians as they went.  Namhu was still battling, this time shooting more close-ranged.  As he aimed one of his arrows at a man from the city they were attacking, the man turned around and his eyes widened.

“Those- those eyes…”, he muttered, looking straight at Namhu.  “I…”

Suddenly, Namhu felt a stabbing pain near the bottom of his back.  He doubled over coughed, and found blood coming out of his mouth his vision was blurring, and the last thing he saw was Appanili running over with Abiditan trailing behind.  Then, his vision went black.

At the dinner table back in Assyria, Namhu’s mother was bringing food to her mouth when suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.  Her spine tingled.  She ignored it, and continued eating.

Namhu opened his eyes weakly.  He could hear the fighting in the distance, but all he could see were trees and a very determined Appanili sitting in front of him.  Abiditan was making sure nobody could see them.  Appanili was wringing water out of a linen cloth, and he flicked his eyes over to Namhu.  Namhu coughed, and soon the ground underneath him had blood on it.  He tried to sit up, but a searing pain in his back made him gasp for air.

“Lie back down, and don’t move”, snapped Appanili, “I can help you, but only if you listen to me.”

Utterly confused at how Appanili knew all of this healing, Namhu sat down.  Abiditan knelt beside him.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Not really”, replied Namhu with a weak laugh, “you should keep patrolling.  We would be doomed if some soldier found us back here.”

Abiditan nodded and stood, pacing and watching for anybody.

Namhu now watched Appanili wring the towel, muttering under his breath.  Finally, he seemed satisfied and brought the thing over, pressing it to Namhu’s back.  Namhu gasped in pain, but did not try to do anything to get away.  Appanili looked extremely concentrated, and a worry crease formed between his eyebrows.  There was something about how he knew all of this healing and -

“You’re a woman, aren’t you”, Namhu blurted out.

Appanili blushed and muttered something about finally noticing with their brains.

“What is your real name, then?” asked Namhu, surprisingly unfazed by this discovery.  He felt a throbbing at his back.

“My real name is Arwi-a,” she pressed down hard on the wound, making Namhu gasp in pain again, “I came to battle for my father, who is growing old and would not survive very long here.  They wanted him to join, but I made sure he wouldn’t.”  Arwi-a smiled and her eyes watched the ground.

Namhu felt some of the pain ease, but his vision was going blurry.  “Arwi-a, I don’t feel very good,” he whispered, the trees coming in and out of focus.  He looked up at her and saw the worry crease that had been ebbing away return, and Arwi-a picked up a weapon dripping with blood.

“Oh.  No, no, it can’t…  I’m sorry, Namhu, I think this blade was poisoned.”  Arwi-a put her head in her hands and started crying, “I...” she hiccupped, “I am so sorry.”

This time, Namhu’s mother gasped.  She had felt a shock, almost painful, travel up to her neck from the base of her back.  Then, she somehow knew that Namhu wouldn’t be coming back home.

Namhu coughed again.  This time, no blood came, but Namhu’s thoughts were clouding.  The bloodstains on the ground spiraled in and out of focus, and Namhu dropped his head on the dirt.  He didn’t feel or hear anything, and as a wave of fatigue washed over him, the trees, sky, and everything around him went black.

 “Let’s see”, muttered Christopher Henderson.  This was his first mission as a professional archeologist, and he had his own team and everything.  It was a hot day in the year 2000, and Christopher was very excited.  He was now holding a backbone, which had a cut in it.  As he dug, he found the rest of the skeleton.  He noticed that it seemed to belong to a young man, maybe around sixteen or seventeen.  He found traces of blood, and because this site was so near to the ancient city of Jerusalem, he guessed that this boy was Assyrian and had fought in the siege that had taken place.  He found some broken arrow shafts, and after doing a quick test, Christopher found that the cut had some traces of poison on it.  He also found a knapsack that had stitches that, in Cuneiform, read “Namhu”.

Garnet's Egypt Story

    The following is a collection of letters, written in hieroglyphs, that has been translated to english.

    Hello, Ethaptu, I am Humadi, the Egyptian godess born into Egypt by the Pharoahs wife. I am writing this letter to you to inform you that you have been selected to do your magic in finding out what goddess I am. I am not sure exactly what one I am, and I need to know in order to go on with my life. Please come to the royal house as soon as you can and use your magic on me. I am excited to see your results.

    Greetings, Humadi, thank you for selecting me for the job of finding out what goddess you are. On what date shall I come?

I am sorry, Ethaptu, but I cannot wait any longer, we shall have the ceremony tommaro with the population of egypt, my scribes are spreading the news.

End of letters found. If more letters are found we will bring them to the museum as soon as possible.

Where the letters end, my life begins. You are probably wondering where I am talking to you from. You will find out soon enough. There will be reason my voice is in your head. First I must tell you the story. I don’t have much time. It started with the letters you just read. Don’t let you're face give away how shocked you are. People will start to wonder. See that chair over there? Go sit down in it. Alright, now I will start. I am Hamadi by the way.

The following day I sat down in the magic chair with a group of greats around me. There were royals, scribes, wealthy men, and a few close friends I’d invited from Thebes. They stepped slowly in a circle around me, while chanting, “Hi-e-i-e-e-i, Omotombielishmo.

Then the magician, Ethaptu, raised his arms and (I will say it in you're language, but he really said it in egyptian) said, “Now I commend the gods to tell me what you really are. What soul of a goddess is embeded into you. How we shall worship you. Now tell me my gods, tell me, for we need this information, and must use it wisely.”

Then he put his hands in the air, and reached his fingertips as high as he possibly could, and opening and closing them as if trying to grab something. His eyes widened, and he pulled his hands down suddenly, as if scared.

“Ah, ah,” he stammered. He was a bit wide eyed for a minute, but he soon collected himself and said, “ I’m sorry, Humadi, but you are the goddess Sehkmet. Everyone got that wide eyed look Ethaptu did, and I new this was nowhere close to what I expected.

But then, now that I new myself and my powers, the Sehkmet side of me kicked in. I ran as fast as I could away from the cerimonial garden. Now that people new who I was, now that I new who I was, my life was in jepordy. I probably wouldn’t even get an afterlife, because no one would bother to preserve my soul.

After that day, my whole life changed, and it would never be normal again.

I soon ran into woods, and didn’t know where I was, so I figured the people that must be chasing after me now wouldn’t either. I sat down, and devised a plan.

I still had my cerimonial gown on me, along with other items that were to help with the ceremony such as jewlery and little gold and silver gadgets. I would sell my gold and silver charms on my bracelet, one by one, to get people on my side. Then, they would hide me from the Pharoah, maybe dress me up like someone else, and declare me gone.

You have to relize I was devastated, but there was no time to sulk. And I figured out then that I must really be Sehkmet, because some part of me was telling me not to run, but to devise some complicated plan that involved using people for my advantage and their loss.

I retraced my steps for a little while, until I came to the edge of the forest. I walked along the edge, darting behind trees whenever I could. Then I came to my first house.

I ran behind it quick as I could, and jumped through a window to the kitchen. Then I grabbed a knife from the counter and went to the bedroom.

A man that looked like he was in his late 20’s was putting beads in his hair. When he was distracted in getting a uncoraprative bead through a thick clump of hair, I ran into the room and held the knife up to his throat. He looked about as startled as I was for actually going through with the plan.

“I am Hammadi, goddess born into egypt. I will give you my gold charm of a cow if you disguise me as someone I am not.”

“I am sorry, I do not seek trouble,” he said in what came out more like a squeek than a reply.

I shoved the knife harder against his throat, “Help me now,” I said firmly. But this man wouldn’t back down, and I was very angry at myself for choosing the wrong house.

“No,” he said. “I will not ally with you.

Just as I was about to cut his throat open in frustration there was a knock at the door and I whipped around.

“Who is there,” a man said from behind the door.

Oh no, that must be the people chasing me down, I thought I didn’t know what to do, so I stabbed the man in the chest to keep him quiet.

As he fell the the ground the man, or should I say men, broke through the door.

“I-it’s not what you think it is alright?” But I was caught red handed, literally. I was holding a knife which was dripping blood onto my hand. There was a dead man on the floor. I looked exactly like the goddess who ran away earlier, in the same clothes and everything! I didn’t have time to speak before the men picked me up and carried me away.

The rest of my life wasn’t the most pleasent. It involved the men taking me to the pharoah, my own father, and him desiding to throw me in the river to let the gods decide. But I knew, even if the gods were on my side, there was no way I was getting out of that thing alive.

I would have been screaming and crying, but I was too scared, and too shocked to speak. I just watched as the men carried me around.

Then they decided that I was so guilty and evil that just throwing me in the river was not good enough punishment, so they decided to bind me to sticks first.

Once I was attached to my stick I was carried to the river by the men. My mother and father didn’t even say goodbye to me when they threw me in.

As me and my stick whirled down the river, I didn’t close my eyes, no matter how painful it was. I wanted to see the place I stuck my toes in so many times when I was little for the last time.

But gradually my lungs ran out of air, and started to get this horrible choking feeling in them. Then I closed my eyes for the last time.

Or you could say, in my living form. I am speaking to you from the Duat right now. How did I still get my afterlife? A man found me and mummified me. I even got a small opening the mouth ritual, so I can talk, eat, breath move around and things.

How does this involve you? I am looking for someone who I could move into. Use their body as my living form. A fresh start of sorts. Could I move into yours? Oh really? Just wait. Just wait.