Approximately one hundred years before the final destruction of Atlantis, the last of the Court Crimson fell to attack by Magi of the Black Arts, known as the Negichaei.
The Negichaei were primarily of the black race of Man. There were exceptions, especially when it was of strategic value to make exceptions, however.
While the black men of Atlantis were primarily peaceful and contributed greatly to Atlantean culture and history, like all the races of Man, there were those among them in positions of wealth and power who sought to maintain or improve their vast fortunes. The Negichaei were the same sort of secret society, much as the Illuminati of modern times are believed to be.
The black people of Atlantis were primarily renowned for their fantastic abilities in mining and grand works of monolithic architecture. The two sets of skills go hand-in-hand. Incredible architectural skill in the times of Atlantis made underground mining much safer than it is even in modern times, and cave-ins were rare, excepting at the advancing mine head. Without their skills, much of Atlantean civilization would have been impossible. These people were also well-revered for their clever and even brilliant sense of humor.
The mine head was a dark, dirty, dangerous place to work. With few exceptions, those who risked their lives at the mine face were conscripted as a punishment for criminal activities the Atlanteans could not rehabilitate, even with their long-forgotten skills of the mind. Either that, or they were those of very poor birth who had little other choice to earn their existence.
All who worked the mine face were paid reasonable wages, even if they weren't there voluntarily. The wages of conscripts were given to their families, who were often as victimized by the behavior of the conscripts as their actual victims. Those who were poor and chose to work the mine face made enough to reasonably support their families, and also educate their children in useful trades. This was the result of long-standing traditions the Atlanteans had of caring for one another as a society in general.
Many who worked the mines on a voluntary basis were even able to move up into better positions and retire successfully. Such work was dangerous, but not an automatic death sentence by any means. These folk were well-respected as having worked their way up in society.
The conscripts, however, were another matter entirely. They were never trustworthy, honest people to begin with. Therefore they were given the most dangerous work, and this situation required a class of enforcement personnel in the mines who were capable of dealing with persons both corrupted by nature and often capable of various forms of mejik.
The mine operators, often powerful members of the Negichaei, were thus always working and struggling with the problems of keeping qualified enforcers willing to work at the mine face. This was a costly and difficult aspect of operating the mines, as you would expect. It is this situation which created both the need for, and ironically, the downfall of the Court Crimson.
Our example then lies in the story of one such mine operator, a powerful Negichaei known as Devistan.
Devistan operated a mine in the far Northwestern area of the main island of Atlantis, near where the islandsof Bimini lie today, and just across the Atlantic ocean from it, at the end of a string of islands that trailed off into the Caribbean Sea. This mine was known and famous as the Cradle of the Red Sunlight, and it was a very old mine. Its main product was a metal known as orichalcum, otherwise known as the red gold of Atlantis.
Orichalcum, the red gold of Atlantis, was prized both for its beauty and its utility. Said to gleam like sunlight in the early morning, orichalcum also possessed qualities of excellent durability and hardness, and was able to serve as a channel for mejikal forces when utilized in the proper manner. It was also believed to help energize and sustain the body when used in eating utensils and fine table ware.
Orichalcum was used in many ways throughout Atlantean society, and the Cradle of the Red Sun was the oldest and greatest of three mines producing it. The mine had provided orichalcum for Atlantis for over two thousand years, and its rich vein showed no signs of playing out. Devistan's ancestors had been the first to discover orichalcum and mine it. They also operated several manufacturing houses that produced goods and art works of the red gold.
It should be known that Devistan's family did not own the mine or manufacturing operations. All land and natural materials in Atlantis were owned by the government, and controlled by one of the Twelve Kings of Atlantis. Still, Devistan's family had for centuries operated the mine successfully for the Northwesternstern province, and their heirs had long been trained in the necessary skills to do so. As long as things continued to operate smoothly, no Atlantean King would have reason or desire to disrupt these operations.
Personal possessions, however, such as finished goods, tools, artworks, and other items could, however, be owned by Atlantean citizens and passed down through inheritance. Only if a family died out with no heir did such items revert to State ownership.
Taxation in Atlantis was in the form of a portion of finished goods produced by the manufacturing operations owned by the State and operated by Atlantean families. One tenth of all such production went to the State for sale or use as a King or his royal designates saw fit. Thus taxation was a limited drag on the Atlantean economy and yet sufficient to perform the necessary functions of the Atlantean States. The other nine-tenths of production were used to sustain manufacturing and the remainder of Atlantean society. This was a strong and stable arrangement that lasted thousands of years.
Alluvea was the name of the region of Atlantis where the Cradle of the Red Sun was located. It was close geographically to the principle city of Atlantis, just in the Northwestern foothills of the mountains and roughly two hundred miles North of the city. Alluvea swept down from the foothills of the mountains to the edge of the sea in the West. Its Northern border was close to the mine, and it was beautiful country. It was somewhat rainy and cool, as the prevailing winds were from the West, and mostly stalled by the mountains. Irrigation from mountain streams fed its croplands, and tropical fruits and vegetables were produced there.
The Cradle of the Red Sun ran beneath the Earth from halfway up Mount Alluveath, reaching well into the foothills and branching out in many directions. Other veins of valuable mineral, metal, and crystal were followed in these branches, but none came close to matching the Red Heart, the massive vein of orichalcum that was so famed among the mining families.
The entry to the Cradle was said to be a wonder to behold. One climbed the flank of Mount Alluveath, a steaming old volcano that reached far into the skies. Ancient lava flows directed the course of the road up the mountain, which was as wide and sturdily built as any modern highway in our time. The lava rock excavated from the path the road followed was used to fill in the three vast docks of the Trident, the main port of Alluvea directly West of the Cradle.
Marker posts along this roadway were gilded in orichalcum, and gleamed in the light of the rising sun to the East and beaming down from Mount Alluveath, making the trip especially spectacular in later morning hours. The signs appeared like flashes of sun fire at regular intervals on both sides of the massive roadway.
On each side of the roadway, massive walls of perfectly cut basalt rock lined the path. They were nearly four stories tall, and ensured that no traffic entered or left the road except at its ends. The only way off the Red Road were an occasional stairway to either side, suitable for people to walk single-file. In the top of each wall was a tunnel shielded by massive blocks of basalt, an escape path in the event that Mount Alluveath should erupt again.
Within the walls were the homes of the miners and the shops that repaired vehicles that occasionally broke down on their endless trips to and from the Cradle. Some small shops made implements and tools for daily life and for the miners' tools. Each home or shop had its own entrances to both the Red Road and the escape tunnels in the tops of the walls.
The Red Road stretched all the way from the entrance to the Cradle to the sea port of Trident, where it fanned wide in a protective embrace of the port. Massive gates of red stone fifty feet thick were constructed at the point where the walls flared open to surround the port. These gates were opened and closed as needed by means of a mejik spell known only to Devistan or his trusted lieutenants. Upon the inner and outer faces of the red gates were inlaid runes of warding in the ancient mejikal language of Atlantis, able to be read only by Adepts or Meji. These protective runes were gilded with orichalcum and set with powerful crystals that braced the walls and gates with both mejikal and solar energies. It was whispered that anything or anyone touching the closed gates would turn to ash as surely as if they or it had fallen into the mouth of Mount Alluveath and the forge of Vulken.
Other, lesser stone gates were set into the walls and could be closed at various points along the Red Road trapping any invader in kill zones as they tried to approach the mines, or blocking the flow of lava should Vulken send a river of fire stone down from the mount.
Halfway up the Red Road, a vast temple of the Peacemaker straddled the road and its massive walls. The temple was able to host a thousand priests, and both the Peacemaker's and Vulken's priests resided in this temple. Side-by-side the acolytes of both Gods lived and performed their duties. The altar of the Peacemaker was set facing East toward the rising sun, at the top of winding stairs at the highest peak of the temple, seeming to touch the sky. The altar of Vulken was another matter, however. It was set at the highest point upon the rim of the crater of Mount Alluveath itself, and reachable only by a narrow path leading from the end of the Red Road to the summit. There was a small, but important temple there. The Temple of Vulken housed two priests and some twenty acolytes. There were other Vulkenik temples at various volcanic peaks around Atlantis, and some were fairly large. This temple was small and remote, yet vital and carrying a highly-respected history within the Vulkenik order.
As one finally came upon the entrance to the Cradle, they saw massive works of cut stone that formed the dual entrance to the mine itself. The stoneworks were polished to a gleaming, lustrous finish and set with many runes and crystals, precious gems of great power, and a spider web of orichalcum runes. Incredibly massive doors were set able to swing shut upon Devistan's order, enabling the mine to be sealed with a power only the Atlantean King might hope to breach, or a powerful God.
The mine had two entrances, one large from which all traffic entered and left, and a second, smaller tunnel which was empty of any motion, with one fantastic exception. A massive fan of circular shape, crafted of solid gleaming orichalcum and set with many glowing crystals spun in the tunnel just past the immense doorway. A constant stream of hot, steamy air blew from this tunnel, and it was this that was the lung of the great mine. A great stone wall between the two tunnels directed the exhaust away from the Red Road and off to the flank of the volcano, where it rose to join Vulken's Breath – the steam from Mount Alluveath's great peak.
This is the backdrop in which is set the story of both the rise and the fall of the Court Crimson, here at the feet of Vulken.
To be continued...
1 comment:
Very Interesting.
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