The Sú Swâŋ (Asian clicks lang's culture)

[Visions1]

The culture behind the language calls itself the Sú Swâŋ (Swâŋ people, Swâŋ nation).
The Swâŋ culture is very old. Much like the Sinitic languages, the various Swâŋ dialects have been in contact with one another for so long, with so many areal changes overlapping, that it's hard to tell which languages are related to which.
There have been a variety of kingdoms, empires, and territories across this culture's ground. Recently, the Empire has discovered coal power (though folks are slow to use it for anything), and the Emperor is currently encouraging colonization, particularly of the vast archipelago on the east coast, and some regions in the South.
The history is long and ranges from boring to insane.
The climate is more temperate in the archipelagos. Also large lizards exist, like wyverns, which are important symbols.
I'm probably going to post articles here instead of general guides.

[eldin raigmore]

I’m assuming that the “Aisain” in your title, is a tpyo for “Asian”.
But, is it?

[Visions1]

I’m assuming that the “Aisain” in your title, is a tpyo for “Asian”.
But, is it?

It is. There will be more. They are legion, my friend, so remember to expect them.

Domino games - Já Wá Mnɔ́ŋ

In history, people were bored. So they invented games. We have a lot of games from the past that today we probably would never invent, because we are so unbored nowadays (unfortunately).
In this society, one of the games people played across society was Já Wá Mnɔ́ŋ (Pre form: Jáa Wáa Mnóŋ) - dominoes. It's as ubiquitous as chess and cards are to us. The game is extremely old; the current major dynasty (that is, dynasty that rules over most provinces, and existed for a long amount of time) is the Lȧ dynasty, but the game was invented in the Jə́ɔɛ dynasty at latest - five major dynasties ago, not even counting the minor ones that also popped up in between. Therefore, Já Wá Mnɔ́ŋ is extremely well developed, with dozens more games and several more genres of play than our dominoes have.

The composition of a set of dominoes is 24 Tcȧt (pieces, originally "shards" - although the word is no longer used that way; dominoes originated from potsherds used to label wares in stores). This comprises 20 pieces like ours - numbers 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 appearing in the top square and bottom square of the dominoes, each combo appearing only once; and four Kings - North, South, East, and West. I'm mostly going to avoid discussing how the Kings are used, but there are versions of most games that involve/don't involve them.
A game is almost never played with only one set, because it normally gets boring fast. Rather, the players pool their sets together. Two is the bare minimum, and four is also common. But there can be larger poolings.
Nowadays, regular paper playing cards have also become common due to trade, but the old ceramic dominoes remain the main game. They may be made of other materials though - wood, stone, paper, bone, or anything that works.

Here are some basic categories of games:

Blocking games
The first thing you're probably thinking of when we say "domino" games. Lay down tiles, matching the numbers to connect them in lines. Make the longest line you can. Or try to prevent your opponent from moving. Points may be counted, but they are often not the main goal.
Often, the Kings are used as starters (put in the center, often in a pinwheel/manji shape) or wild cards.

Scoring games
Points are the main thing here. Tiles might be placed down like in blocking games, thrown in a pile, or removed from a stack. They may be a simple "who draws highest" or complex cribbage-games, or anything in between. There are many ways to count the points themselves from the tiles, but for now this is enough.

Set collecting games
Basically, try to collect a set of tiles - define that as you will - from a stack of tiles. It may be a full set of 20, or several smaller sets (like gin rummy), or one small set, or many small sets, etc. It gets more complicated from here.

Attacking games
In these games (reminiscent of modern card games found today, like Pokemon and Yugioh), each person has a wall (thickness depending on the game) of tiles, and their value is the person's HP. The aim is for a person to use his own tiles to get rid of his opponents', to whatever degree needed to eliminate them from the game. Tiles are drawn from a stack in the center. In some versions, the player's tiles face himself, unknown to his opponents; in others, they are laid face-up, visible to everyone; and in others, the tiles face away from the player - meaning everyone but he himself can see them.

Hand-losing games
Lose as many tiles as you can from your hand. Other rules might be applied to make this easier/harder for the player and his opponents.

Physical games
Using the pieces for other things - throwing the furthest, stacking like jenga, knocking others off the table or out of a circle, tiddlywinks, and so on. Points may be counted from the pips on the tiles, or just the number of tiles themselves.

As well, there are other uses for the tiles. Tiles might be used to mark pathways, passing messages (a common style of code in the armies, or anywhere, such as schoolyards), mathematics (there's a whole field of study, though it has a bad rep due to gambling), and even divination. The latter use is almost extinct among this culture, but it was borrowed by the indigenous islanders who live in the archipelago this culture is currently colonizing. The islanders do divination with them a lot.

[Visions1]

Draconids, particularly Wyverns

"Wow, you put dragons in your world? That's really awesome and cool/predictable and cliche!"
Hold on to your excitement/disappointment. I'm not really so into magical stuff, so no, these dragons can't fly or breathe fire (though they may have venomous spit/very bad breath). But they are interesting.

Draconids are a clade of animals in this world whose natural history could be summed up succinctly with "What if dinosaurs didn't completely go extinct?" (Ignoring birds.) Essentially, they are sauropods who didn't fully lose it - just mostly. Mammalian and avian life sprang up in their stead, but they kept around. Because of this, some clades we have - for example, big cats - are not really found.

I haven't fleshed out the clades fully, but so far I've though up some smallish komodo-dragon/tuatara species and plesiosaurs. And, I have fleshed out one species - the wyvern.

Wyverns

Wyverns (Draconis anino, Modern Swâŋ Tʰjȧ mʘâŋ, Proto-Islander *Kiala) are the largest draconid species on land. Adults are roughly six feet tall from back to ground, and fifteen feet long. They used to be found across the continent, but now are restricted mostly to remote areas, and also the easternmost Swâŋ coast.
Wyverns alternate between being warm-blooded (when they are awake or in a cold area for along time) and cold-blooded (when they hibernate or are in a warm area for a long time). This is in part because they need to eat a lot, and so can't be warm-blooded or awake for too long periods of time, or they'll compete too much with other wyverns, or eat everything and starve from a lack of new animals. However, to survive at their size and in the environs they inhabit, they can't afford to be exclusively cold blooded.

Wyverns are carnivorous mostly, and will eat any kind of animal - but will also eat plants if they are plentiful and calorie-rich.

Courtship and breeding are infrequent, but will last about a month long. The male may or may not help raise the young. Eggs take several months to hatch, and are laid whenever convenient. Young take about fifteen years to reach maturity. The average lifespan of a wyvern (assuming it isn't killed) is 100~200 years.

Wyverns spend a lot of time hibernating, for various reasons. They can swim or walk long distances, but prefer to stay in one place.

Wyverns have had a heavy influence on human cultures, analogous to the amount tigers and lions have. They have no known predators but people. Today, they are mostly under threat from hunting and habitat loss.

[Glenn]

The traditional image of a wyvern is that of a dragonlike creature with two wings and two legs. You mention your wyverns as walking and swimming, but not flying; do they have wings and/or the ability to fly?

[Visions1]

The traditional image of a wyvern is that of a dragonlike creature with two wings and two legs. You mention your wyverns as walking and swimming, but not flying; do they have wings and/or the ability to fly?

"Wow, you put dragons in your world? That's really awesome and cool/predictable and cliche!"
Hold on to your excitement/disappointment. I'm not really so into magical stuff, so no, these dragons can't fly or breathe fire (though they may have venomous spit/very bad breath). But they are interesting

I'm calling them wyverns because the name sounds nice, the name sometimes has an association with the reptile not having wings, and I don't want to call them dragons.

[lurker]

[Using the pieces for other things - throwing the furthest, stacking like jenga, knocking others off the table or out of a circle, tiddlywinks, and so on. Points may be counted from the pips on the tiles, or just the number of tiles themselves.

POGs!

[Glenn]

I'm calling them wyverns because the name sounds nice, the name sometimes has an association with the reptile not having wings, and I don't want to call them dragons.

Understood; thank you for the clarification!

[Visions1]

The Sú Phetsa

Tu Sú Swâŋ (the Swang Empire) has some ethnic minorities. Normally, when they come into contact with the Sú Swâŋ, minorities assimilate (or, as the Sú Swâŋ put it, become refined and cultured). A few, however, don’t – due to remoteness, lack of pressure, or sheer resolve.

The Sú Pʰɛ̀ Tsʰá (Phetsha people, also known as the Tɔ́t Pʰɛ̀ Tsʰá – Phetsha way, faith) is a small ethnoreligious group located in the mid-south of the land. The Phetsha actually are not from the Sú Swâŋ; they originally came from the west from a cool, mountainous region on trade during the Su dynasty (for the record – that’s the major dynasty before the Lí, who were before the Lȧ).
Though originally coming on trade like they had for generations before, the Phetsha only then decided to settle down in the land – and start teaching their religion to the locals. After a while, they new converts began to marry into the foreign population. During the first minor dynasty thereafter in their province, they were cut off from their coreligionists in the west due to a Sakoku instituted by their king. (The king in question - Jȕ Tsu – would eventually lose his rule over this extremely unpopular rule, becoming the only king of the Minor Jȕ dynasty. This was the first statute of his 22-year reign.) This small trauma basically meant the community was at extreme risk of assimilation. So, its leaders (its priests) got together and instituted a series of protocols and reforms, aimed at preventing their faith from dying out in the land. When trade later opened up, the Phetsha from out west were shocked at how well everything had been preserved, and so gave approval to their reforms, which differed from the rest of the Phetsha. Through them, they continue to exist to this day.

But who even are the Phetsha anyways?

Originally, all of the world knew of the Phetsha faith. But time, pain, and history made the truth be forgot. For this reason, lots of the customs of people around the world resemble Phetsha, but are not.
The only place where any of this truth was kept significantly were in the Dzoontshun mountains (Jáŋ Tsùn Cə̏n). There, the people made this truth into their regular, common customs. Priesthoods began to develop, each worshipping it own gods, and developing their own rituals.
One day, one young priest – M’ats’zhauya (Má À Tsá, Má À Tsá Á Cȁu Já) – was sitting in a room in his Temple, when the First God began to speak and sing with him. (Prophetic/oracular visions were a regular part of priesthood, but his took their beliefs to another level.) He revealed Himself as the Creator, and Father of all the gods, and Grandfather of all of man. He revealed to M’ats’zhauya the truth of the Phetsha’s traditional ways, and the areas of theirs (in custom, in rite, and in morals) that needed to be added or corrected. He sent him forth as a prophet and teacher to the Phetsha, and through them all mankind.
After a few rough patches, M’ats’zhauya managed to convince a local chieftain that a particularly bad and cold winter spell would soon cheer up. At first, he came to the central viliage, preaching, but no-one believed him, including the chief. But the winter got worse. At the last moment, when there was no bread or grain left in the stores, they raised their hands and cried out to the First God – and M’ats’zhauya fell into a trance, collapsed onto the floor, and rose up, saying that God had forgiven them. And so it was that spring began. This would be the actual start of his following, and this is commemorated every year through the Festival of the Spring-Blossoming Branch (Sɛ̃̂ Jùt Càŋ Kèn). (Though it always existed before the Prophet as a spring-welcoming festival – God had planned it out.)

{It’s getting late right now. Hopefully I’ll finish more of this later.}

[Visions1]

While at first facing some minor opposition from the other priests, M’ats’zhauya eventually managed to gain support over his whole region - and the enthusiastic support of the whole priesthood. There are two very basic reasons behind this. Firstly, the Phetsha were half pastoralists: people lived in towns or villages, but many were nomads who led their herds and flocks through the mountains, and occasionally convened in population centres. This made spreading his ideas easy, despite the mountains. Secondly, M’ats’zhauya wasn't introducing a new religion to the people. He confirmed basically everything they were already doing - all he did was organize it and moralize it, provide greater meaning. And with his emphasis of conversion of the whole world to this perfect way of life, he provided a drive for the people. Plus, the beliefs themselves were comforting.
Though he passed away young - at 56 - he profoundly influenced the Phetsha, and basically changed their history forever. M’ats’zhauya wrote down some things, and some of his disciples memorized wrote down his preachings while he was alive. These are termed “The book of M’ats’zhauya” (Ík Ík Má À Tsá), and are where the more belief-y things are. After the priest’s death, his followers got busy and recorded every single Phetsha practice, custom, law, rite, taboo, and belief they could get their hands on. These would become many, many writings, and would become the object of study, for practice and teaching culture, for the ethnoreligion. Basically, they wrote down their own anthropology. In a sense, it was him who made them transition from a semi-literate society, to a united, education-based one.
And then everything got complicated – more on that later.

Okay, but what really are the Phetsha?

The first thing you need to know, is that the term “religion” fits awkwardly. The best way to put it would be “culture”. The Phetsha way is not just spiritual beliefs and rites, or even laws, but the sum total of their way of life, sacred and mundane – cultural norms, language, housing plans, and so on. A good analogy would be Confucianism – the practice of the culture is the “religion.” Although unlike Confucianism, the Phetsha way of life is very much filled with religion, and is much more expansive than Confucius over what gets included. One way to approach it would be how in Islam, there is such a thing as “Muslim culture,” which though often not part of the religion, is an integral compliment to it. Only in our case, there is purpose and spiritual belief behind it now, making it technically religious.
Because the Phetshas’ customs mostly predate M’ats’zhauya, they are comfortable with historical inquiry – unlike some real-world religions, who have a mixed time with it. If you tell an Orthodox Jew that Passover was originally two festivals (a common theory in academic circles, though I don’t think it holds water), they’ll disagree quite a bit. Do the equivalent with a Phetsha festival to a hardline believer, and he will be less uncomfortable with it – after all, the culture as the Prophet found it was the Perfect Way. Who says it had to be prior to that? Of course, this isn’t always the case, but its generally easier.
Really, getting people to believe in the First God or enjoy the festivals isn’t the hard part – its getting them to accept cultural practices that are foreign to them.
Still, as for basic beliefs: The First God begot the gods, who made the universe. Humankind is therefore God's grandchildren.

To get to the meat and potatoes, here is a selection of practices:
- The most important holiday is Festival of the Spring-Blossoming Branch. The festival is preceded by Winter - all 3 months of it are viewed as a season of repentance, with the Mid-Winter Festival in the middle preventing it from becoming too dreary. As soon as the first trees start blossoming, the people gather together and do... a lot of things. Towards the middle, a blossoming branch from a fruit/nut tree is ritually cut by the highest priest in that locale, brought to a temple/tent midst great dancing, song, and fanfare, and the priest then solemnly enters the tent alone and performs various rituals (many believe he receives a great closeness to the First God then, perhaps even oracles). When the entire rite is successfully finished, everyone celebrates and feasts. This holiday celebrates the New Year (and the religion's founding), while also being symbolic of forgiveness.
- Men are expected to have beards. At every dining room, there are combs for men to comb their beards after they eat and washbasins, for cleanliness. Every home has a separate room for entertaining male guests, and entertaining female guests.
- Certain combinations of food - such as mammal-products with non-mammal animal products - are taboo.
- War officially requires the invocation of Tetskou, god of war, before anything begins. A man is allowed to steal women for wives, but if he later finds out her first husband is alive, he has to give her back. He can't be carnal with her until she's brought home. It is forbidden for members of the same clan banner to wage war with each other (this was expanded by the Prophet to all Phetsha, though keeping one's clan lineage is important still).
- Poetry as an art is a must-know. So is archery, horse-riding, astronomy, and other things. Law is not required to be known, but knowing it puts you head and shoulder above others - hence why nowadays everybody knows scripture better than horses.

{We're going to talk about how they dealt with living in Swang country next post}

[lurker]

The first thing you need to know, is that the term “religion” fits awkwardly. The best way to put it would be “culture”. The Phetsha way is not just spiritual beliefs and rites, or even laws, but the sum total of their way of life, sacred and mundane – cultural norms, language, housing plans, and so on. A good analogy would be Confucianism – the practice of the culture is the “religion.” Although unlike Confucianism, the Phetsha way of life is very much filled with religion, and is much more expansive than Confucius over what gets included. One way to approach it would be how in Islam, there is such a thing as “Muslim culture,” which though often not part of the religion, is an integral compliment to it. Only in our case, there is purpose and spiritual belief behind it now, making it technically religious.
Because the Phetshas’ customs mostly predate M’ats’zhauya, they are comfortable with historical inquiry – unlike some real-world religions, who have a mixed time with it. If you tell an Orthodox Jew that Passover was originally two festivals (a common theory in academic circles, though I don’t think it holds water), they’ll disagree quite a bit. Do the equivalent with a Phetsha festival to a hardline believer, and he will be less uncomfortable with it – after all, the culture as the Prophet found it was the Perfect Way. Who says it had to be prior to that? Of course, this isn’t always the case, but its generally easier.
Really, getting people to believe in the First God or enjoy the festivals isn’t the hard part – its getting them to accept cultural practices that are foreign to them.

An interesting angle. I have a similar thing going with The Bright Way, where the yinrih are much more comfortable with the idea that they evolved gradually from nonsapient animals (they even have a feast commemorating the dawn of sapience) and that the Bright Way has inherited some of its rites from the primitive shamanism that predated the Theophany (using the bones of the dead as decoration and the cleric's role as tender of the fire). Question the Theophany itself, or deny the existence of extraterrestrial sophonts, and you'll get some major push-back though.

The Phetsha kind of remind me of the Uyghurs (being an ethno-religious minority in a vaguely east Asian empire) and the Japanese hidden Christians (dropping off the radar for centuries but emerging intact later). Hopefully the Phetsha have a better time among the Swang than the Uyghurs do in China.

[Visions1]

I'll be happy to elaborate on inspiration after the Petsha subtopic is completed. I have some stuff to say about it

Okay, but what do they have to do with the Sú Swâŋ anyways? All you've been doing is talk about the Petsha!

Hold your herd of mountain horses (a specialty Petsha import). We'll discuss this now.
Like a lot of cultures, the Phetsha weren't unarare of the Sú Swâŋ (what with them being one of the biggest economic powerhouses in the ancient world, and somewhat today). They regularly went down the the Empire to do trade, though this increased during the Su dynasty. It was during the Su dynasty (the last 200 years of it) that the prophet happened, and from there, it was only natural that the Phetsha would try and take their way of life with them to the Swâŋ. In these early years, this didn't matter too much to the government, since they remained more of a small immigrant group at that time.

Then, as said above, the Minor Jȕ dynasty happened, and the cultural cutoff stirred the Phetsha into action. Immediately, it's priests formulated some community reforms to prevent assimilation. They could be summarized as: In good times ("open periods"), business as usual. In hard times ("closed periods"): Increase Phetsha influences, decrease Swang influences, have lots of children, and strengthen the community.
The theory behind it is that people generally formulate their outlook when they are children. So if you have lots of children, and make them as Phetsha as possible, then they will turn out as Petsha.
As for specifics, these would include every Phetsha being expected to know how to read scripture and have a working knowledge of it; study at least two hours a day; keep the customs, laws, beliefs, and practices of the Phetsha; banning the study of "outside works" by those under 25 unless the works or individuals were given official permission; requirements to live among other Phetsha, and to volunteer and contribute to the community; creating new institutions to support the less fortunate; having as many children as physically/legally possible; semi-distinctive clothing (this was part of Phetsha customs anyways); providing Phetsha alternatives for whatever the foreigners were doing; discouraging friendships with non-Phetsha; and more.
Another important reform was that proselytizing was banned under closed periods, in order to both prevent outsiders from hastening assimilation or insiders from lapsing, and the government from getting upset at them. If you were still serious and wanted to convert, the Phetsha would either (with a lot of empathy) tell you to move out of the Tu Sú Swâŋ, and if they were really kind may even help you with that - or if you didn't get the picture, to gitout. If you still were serious about converting - like, you really meant it, to your core - then a years-long process of education would begin, culminating in a new convert. Converts from the Tu Sú Swâŋ became reknowned as the converts of the best quality. Conversely, Tu Sú Swâŋ Phetsha often didn't hold of outside conversions - at least within their own borders. This became a minor controversy for some time. You can imagine how bad this could be for a new convert who travelled 100 kilometers into a the Swâŋ Empire, only to be viewed as a foreigner by his own new people - not just emotionally bad, but in terms of just finding a place to stay or eat.
To quote the scholar Youq'an on the above two topics: "In closed times, I tell my son, 'Look at the difference between them and us. Look how good our way is and who terrible theirs is.' But in open times, I tell my neighbour, 'Look at the similarities we have between us! We're not so different after all.'" Note that the latter statement was basically the way peoples were converted in all places, and that the former was a findable sentiment among Phetsha, though normally left unsaid.
As well, another question was opened up through all this: what is considered too much borrowing? What is the real Phetsha way of life? For all their scholarship, most of the world's Phetsha during the Minor Jȕ dynasty weren't scholars, and at times, their own cultures would develop in such way as to not match scholarly interpretations of even their native mountainous land. This would become a source of tension (small or great) for all of Phetsa history, in all places they were, from desert to plain to mountain to city, and would result in a great deal of scholarly literature, and some controversies.
Conversely, due to their scholarship, Tu Sú Swâŋ Phetsha became the eminent scholars throughout the Phetsha world for centuries (like with the reverence Jews talk about Postclassical Babylon, Medieval France, or Lithuania), and often led by example (though of course noteveryone had to agree). Yet this was a question even for them. What is Phetsha food? Is it just taboos? A style of cooking? What about a loss of access old ingredients? Are new ones okay? Only as replacements? What about architecture - do people still live in tents? May they adopt foreign architectural styles? This is a topic we can't cover the full breadth of, but it was dealt with. For example, in the Tu Sú Swâŋ, the Phetsha only ever lived in houses, and were pleased to adopt prevailing architecture styles and blend them with their own.
Finally, was the method of the Tu Sú Swâŋ Phetsha right for all Phetsha? That became a minor controversy of their own. One famous detractor lovingly called them "stiff-necked donkeys who won't move their heads out of the tomes to see what people actually do." However, their method was really much more effective at preventing assimilation. So, outside of the Tu Sú Swâŋ, the method did spread to a few locations. But overall, they were never more than a quarter than all Phetsha at any given time - and, everyone agreed they were still one people, and that these were simply reforms superimposed on the religion.

{Next post will actually go through history.}

[Visions1]

I'm getting sick and tired of the blocks of text! What's the history?!

Alright, alright fine.

The Minor Jȕ dynasty collapsed literally within a generation of the reforms - basically allowing the Phetsha to proselytize at an increased rate. So, one of the first things the new Lí dynasty got around to was normalize relations with them - and set boundaries on them. Some five years after the Lí takeover, the Phetsha were put back under a probation of a different kind: they were not allowed to convert people or travel without papers, they had to pay new taxes on everything, and no man was allowed to have more than five children at a time. After all, cultural disunity is a great way to get an empire to collapse - and the Phetsha were looking for converts.
The Phetsha almost immediately entered another closed phase - though this one, and the ones like it after, would be much more benevolent - if state-governed discrimination could be called that.

The Swâŋ were also a culture that valued scholarship and self-study, and hence, the two cultures actually got along pretty well together, and would share ideas between eachother from each's great thinkers. It wasn't uncommon that in Swâŋ academies, Phetsha were the largest minority present.

Throughout their history in the Tu Sú Swâŋ, the Phetsha would continuously go through these open and closed periods, depending more or less on the policies and moods of the reigning Emperor. Some times were harder than others: Once or twice, expulsions were put in order on a national level, and were occasional in local settings as well; occasionally the local peasants or armed rebels would attack them, for whatever reason (often it was anti-foreign sentiment); and restrictions would sometimes be made heavier than they were before, or new ones would be introduced.
When the Lí went under barbarian rule two times, the Phetsha were persecuted heavily in both body and faith - even though a handful of the invading tribes were themselves Phetsha. To gloss over these two periods of history, they valiantly fought with the Swâŋ to be rid of the invaders.
It's worth noting that the Phetsha were not ethnically homogenous; ethnic groups would sometimes enter the domain of the Tu Sú Swâŋ who were already Phetsha, or would become so. This led to some groups not sharing the same mountainous origins of the first Phetsha in the empire.

Open periods, though shorter than closed ones, were extremely pleasant. At some point, during on of them the Phetsha were even able to convert some areas in the north of the country.
On the other hand, it was closed periods that would benefit Swâŋ identity and culture itself the most. The isolation, discrimination, and low self-esteem of being outsiders forced them look inwards to themselves to get by in life, making them more "religious" and "Phetsha" (if the former term applies). Under open periods, they tended to assimilate and loosen up. Because of this, the Phetsha would tend to echo a sentiment found in their faith and culture, that they were more refined, moral people than their neighbours.

The Phetsha would normally sustain themselves by agriculture in rural settings, or through scribal work, foreign trade and its facilitation, and banking in urban settings. Trade and foreign bureaucracy were their specialties, and they were dominant in those fields. If a city happened to be fully populated by Phetsha, then they obviously held other jobs.
The Phetsha always had to be in contact with the local governments they were in, just to allow their communities to get by.
At least three Phetsha elders were included in the government bureaucracy at any given time, so government decisions would have their input. However, quotas were put on how many Phetsha were allowed in the government or into higher institutions.

The Swâŋ and the Phetsha basically lived with the fact that they were frenemies, and openly understood that, while coexisting peacefully with eachother. All in all, life wasn't great for the Phetsha, but it was alright.

When the Lí dynasty collapsed, the Lȧ dynasty (the current dynasty) took over. Their policy tended to be more cold with the Phetsha, more wishing that they be Swâŋ like them. Most of what happened was like in during the Lí, but expulsions, discrimination, attempted assimilation, and closed periods became more frequent. Still, the appreciation the two groups had for eachother persisted to whatever degree.

314 years into the Lȧ dynasty, amidst worsening feelings, the "Phetsha Incident" occurred - considered one of the worst administrational and political mistakes in Sú Swâŋ history. Next post will be about that.

[Visions1]

314 years of the Lȧ dynasty. Year 2 of Emperor Lȧ Sȧ Txȍ. Inheritor of a creaking empire, which he would soon plunge into chaos.

Lȧ Sȧ-Txȍ was a young man when he became emperor, and from his first day, he showed a great deal of political ineptitude. The Emperor was not very familiar with history, law, economics, politics and philosophy, or really anything much about running kingdoms. He mostly was interested in literature, poetry, the arts, jokes, and drinking with friends (he didn't drink alcohol out of a temple vow, which was probably for the better). Very soon, his officials learned that it was better to just let him be and just work behind the scenes - but that was impossible when he'd make decrees, which always left his advisors groaning. On the plus side though, he was actually a rather pleasant person, so at least they were allowed to groan, even in front of him. In fact, his simple, kind personality was probably his only redeeming quality. And later, his worst flaw.
Over the prior century, the empire's population had become less and less happy with the Lȧ. Prices had grown higher, the ruling and administerial classes generally weren't there when you needed them, and civil unrest was beginning to bubble. People increasingly were upset with the higher, more cultured parts of society.

Let's turn to the Phetsha. But first, a thought: Suppose you have a people that has something deprived from them for a long time. What happens when they finally get what they need? You'd think that they'd suddenly spring back to the way things were before it got. In reality, though, cultures tend to carry baggage. Change in people takes time, and this is no less true with societies - people will often act like it's still the bad times during the good times.
The Phetsha progressively suffered more and more, like everyone during the early Lȧ, and so, they turned more and more inwards, seeing themselves as the good people in a bad world. And as they saw the Swâŋ kingdom fall into distress, they began to see it as proof that anything but the Phetsha way was doomed to doing wrongly. Normally, the Phetsha would release this pressure when a new open period would happen, as their passion for their identity would draw converts. However, they would have to use the "See? We're not so different" strategy, even if they believed there were great differences.

Trying to win supporters, and also out of some personal feeling, in his second year, Lȧ Sȧ Txȍ decreed that all restrictions placed on minority populations would be removed. This included the Phetsha. A new open period had begun.
Normally, the Phetsha would use their old strategy - but now, many of them considered the opposite. After all they had been through, they looked down on the Sú Swâŋ Way as oppressive and backwards, and so did the people. So, without planning it per-se, many Phetsha began to promote the Tɔ́t Sú Pʰɛ̀ Tsʰá not as similar to the Tɔ́t Sú Swâŋ, but as better than it, an alternative without all of the latter's pitfalls, especially without its lack of concern for its downtrodden. In other words, they openly told people the Swâŋ way was wrong, and theirs was right.
And people began to listen.

[lurker]

Liking this so far.

314 years of the Lȧ dynasty. Year 2 of Emperor Lȧ Sȧ Txȍ. Inheritor of a creaking empire, which he would soon plunge into chaos.

I have a feeling things will not end well for this guy.

[Visions1]

The start of the new open period was basically business as usual. Priests or devoted laymen began to spread in various directions, rural and urban, preaching a new way of life. The only difference was what they talked. And as said before, people listened - at first in just unusually large numbers, but not too long after, en masse. More and more people were getting interested, and, as they were operating on easy-conversion pre-reform standards, the already existing Phetsha communities began to get overwhelmed with a lack of resources.
In particular, there was a problem of religious educational resources. Traditionally, even in open times, the religion was mostly taught by mentorship to those who already knew it. You can do that with individual or small groups, maybe small communities; how do you do that with cities or provinces? The most learned piests were asked. They gave a Swâŋ answer: the newly-invented printing press. With cheaply-printed, freshly-translated pamphlets of scripture and custom, and travelling, interconnected preachers, everyone could have access to the best culture.
Really, the priests didn't fully realize fully what was going on. Many of the highest had a much more tempered view of the Swâŋ, and assumed every priest and preacher felt the same. As well, they had no idea simply how big this was getting when they gave their first directives, or how big it would get. They didn't intend an incident at first, and simply thought that it was just a sign of good times - more places wanted the ideal society.

It took a little bit, but soon someone having complete oversight became impossible, and general control began to slip. Spread far and thin, preachers said whatever turned people's hearts on, sometimes innovating on dogmas in odd ways. As well, with a wealth of printed information, the Swâŋ could simply study scriptures and texts themselves, and come up with whatever conclusions they wanted. This could lead to anything from syncretism to extremely strict literalist interpretations of scripture even the Tu Sú Swâŋ Phetsha thought were strange. With a lack of mentorship and a surge of passion, preaching, and learning material, whole countrysides were swept away with this Phetsha movement.
The effects were small at first, but over the course of a year, officials began to notice weird things. First, people were growing beards and washing their hands more; then papers written in Phetsha script (in Swâŋ language, but still) began showing up at notaries; then horse prices began to go up (as the saying goes, "a Phetsha without a horse is not respectable"). Towards the end of the year, one could find markets completely devoid of women - which resembled Phetsha markets. This was an example of extreme fervor - Phetsha-from-birth women actually did go to market, just simply much less often than men.

For a while as well, political elements took a backseat in polemic. Phetsha were more interested in conversions than in changing the government. Simply change the world from below - by making it a Phetsha country - and the government will only follow.
But fiery preachers, upset publics, and printing presses can make underground dissent plentiful. About a year into all this, little armed attacks began mushrooming in rural provinces. No one person was responsible; some horseman would rile up the people (who were learning Phetsha martialtexts in any case) and a city or military post would fall. Soon born Phetsha themselves began to get involved.
As this second year wore on, politically motivated attacks began to pick up. Whole provinces were littered in Phetsha script graffiti. Whole garrisons were burnt in coordinated attacks. Small cities were capitulating - or being burnt.
In summer that year, Kʰɔ́ŋ Tʰàn city fell, and its self-named province declared a new Phetsha state, wrought by a mass of half-ignorant Phetsha Swang. The city itself was already two-thirds Phetshized.

The administration in whole, emperor, nobles, advisors, ministers, and all, only then realized that this wasn't a simple stochastic uprising.
This was a full-on rebellion.

A dynasty-ending crisis.

[Visions1]

In Swâŋ history, one easily notices a pattern: dynasties last at most around 300 years. Then about then, they collapse, and a decade or two later, either a new one takes over, or the country remains split into warring states. The Lí, for example, lasted exactly that amount before falling.
The Phetsa Incident came right on time. If the Lȧ were to keep their heads, this was their last chance.

The first thing the administration did was set up a provisional government. In crisis, the last thing you want to deal with is bureaucracy. Emergency meetings were convened by major advisors, ministers, generals, and nobles - the best of the government officials (that were relevant). The Emperor was given a seat in these meetings, and had complete power, but he mostly avoided saying anything.
It was in this fray that several names came to the forefront, of which we will mention just two. One was Tòŋ Ú-Jò, a decorated Southern general with a keen eye for detail. Another was the Emperor's brother, Lȧ Sȧ-Xaɛ́. He was, more or less, what the Emperor was not. Sȧ-Xaɛ́ was a cold, observant person. He had little interest in poetry or art. Nor had he ever read political theory or philosophy, but was very politically savvy, and knew history well. As well, he enjoyed riding and battle. Sȧ-Xaɛ́ was actually a year older than Sȧ-Txȍ, but was born from a royal concubine. The brother-prince quickly became a main man in these meetings, admired for his insight and straight thinking, and was more or less the head of the council, and hence, basically the country's ruler (though in tandem with the council).
Quickly, they threw up some plans.

Although the Phetsha movement had spread literally across the entire nation, there were three major regions that needed quelling: The southern coast (this was where Kʰɔ́ŋ Tʰàn is), the southern midlands (the place that was already Phetsha before all this, and only grew in size since then), and the rural north hinterlands. Lȧ Sȧ-Xaɛ́ quickly dispatched three generals to work with each region. Ú Jò was one of three generals, but in matter of months proved himself to be the best of them (he made the most progress). Eventually, he was promoted as general over all military operations during the uprising.

Fighting in the war was difficult to work with, for a few reasons. For one, the imperial army was simply outnumbered 3-1 by rebels who were willing to fight (mostly peasants). As well, fighting styles were somewhat unpredictable, due to the fact the rebels used a combination of native, living Swâŋ techniques mixed with literary Phetsha ones, used idiosyncratically. Lastly, the people had a monopoly on horses, due to them having bought them all up in religious fervor.
The biggest obstacles that could happen were if a particularly good general happened to take over a province. In that situation, he more or less became its king (or more accurately, warlord).
However, the imperial army had several advantages. For one, this movement was not under anyone's single control - no rebels had a bird's-eye view, and they could be taken down seprately. This also meant that rebel morale was easier to break - no grand general was holding a knife under the throats of his own subordinates. Plus, the imperial army had more artillery, military training and discipline, and trained generals.
On the whole though, things were difficult for everyone. In Phetshaist areas, infrastructure was straining, fields had been neglected, and pragmatic government was thrown away for extreme religious devotions. In the imperial areas, trade had come to a halt and prices were soaring. But the government, in desperation, became more effective at pacifying people in its home state.
In the next post, life under these rulerships, and the fighting and destruction that in ensued, will be described, among other things.

[lurker]

This is great.

So if I'm following this correctly: the Phetsha are a minority in the wider Swang empire. They endure alternating periods of discrimination and tolerance, and at some point when things open up again a radical religious movement emerges that sees zealous Swang converts start militant uprising, which forces the empire to crush the rebellion.

[Visions1]

So if I'm following this correctly: the Phetsha... which forces the empire to crush the rebellion.

You're right on target!

Let's visit Kʰɔ́ŋ Tʰàn.
Situated somewhat inland in the far south, but with easy access to the sea, in the morning you could smell the perfume of the saltwater, and the lush vegetation that grows at the city's outskirts. But today, with the Phetsha, you would smell more things. You would see more things.
For one, the economy has gone sour. The sea brings traders, who come up the river in barques filled with luxuries for trade. However, trade has been strange; basic necessities can hardly be had, luxuries only being so much harder. Why hoard gold when the fields are unplowed? The Phetshaists told people they would enable more trade with the other Tu of the world; this was partially true, but less so with a war going on.
If you were to look down below from an apartment into the streets, you'd see them utterly crowded. Refugees were streaming in, stressing the already strained resources - in particular, food. People were hawking out prices; preachers and prayer leaders were shouting, most speaking in a "low Swang" (non-official Swangic language). Many refugees had to sleep in the streets. Many locals, in religious devotion, moved out of their homes to sleep outside in tents in the streets, with their newly-acquired animals they could hardly take care of, like the Phetsha nomads of old.
This was never done by the born Phetsha in all their history in the Tu Sú Swâŋ. They lived in houses.
This was not normal; it was an example of the sheer level of extremity this all went to.
Perhaps the only things preventing the heavy spread of crime and disease were the hearty feelings of mutual aid the Tɔ́t Pʰɛ̀ Tsʰá encouraged, the fact that most people were busy studying all day, and the religious imperative of the lifestyle to wash oneself often and be clean.
If you were not a Phetshaist, you kept quiet, and kept your head down. The faith said harming you would be wrong, but there were too many extreme people holding swords.
This could only last so much longer.

Tòŋ Ú-Jò first started his campaign in the south coast. As he went on, he came up with a basic strategy: fear. If the rebels felt they couldn't win, they would quickly run away and capitulate, even if they had more men and horses. For this reason, artillery went a long way - loud noises, smoke, and heavy volleys from muskets, cannons, and missiles in the right directions would be enough to scare horses and their riders. But there was only so much gunpowder. A great deal of Ú-Jò's strategy also came down to studying Phetsha methods - obviously, knowing his enemy. What's more, he tried to recruit non-Phetshaized or even Phetshaized locals to his cause. By knowing how to terrify them, his enemies would surrender.
As the war wore on, the more troubled areas were the first to capitulate. As they saw that the Tɔ́t Pʰɛ̀ Tsʰá (or their versions of it) couldn't keep society going, they turned to the other side. After an area would get captured, others nearby it would quickly surrender.
This continued until the only places that remained were Phetsha heartlands (newly-converted or traditional), peasant villages, and hardnut strongholds. Kʰɔ́ŋ Tʰàn happened to be one of the latter, though it was one of the first major places to fall.

When Kʰɔ́ŋ Tʰàn was finally laid up in siege, the war had already been going on properly for six months. The winter rainy-season had come. Ú-Jò had already laid scouts to gather information, and found that the city had already laid heavy enforcements. As well, the whole population was well trained, and there were enough animals to easily survive a siege. As well, access to its river allowed it to easily access water, preventing disease and thirst and facilitating trade.
However, the city was utterly packed, and under the rain, people could only get sick.
While Ú-Jò had swiftly dealt with other parts of the south, this city was much harder to fell. It wasn't until the 317th year of the Lȧ that the city finally capitulated - and in order to do that, Ú-Jò had to go so far as to build a catapult, figure out where food storages were, and throw flaming projectiles at them - several times. The city was so avidly Phetsha that instead of devolving into chaos under starvation, the people banded together, viewing themselves as one group facing the world, and helped eachother.
Eventually, however, infights, starvation, and a few bouts of pandemonium created mass deaths in the city, eventually leading it to surrender, capture, and defeat.

In the meanwhile, other though cities were also sieged, using Ú-Jò's fear strategy. As one would capitulate, others elsewhere would follow, unless they were hardnuts. North hinterland cities, though slow at first, began to capitulate already during the first months, as did South coast ones. The Phetsha heartlands, however, took much longer, due to born Phetsha having influence there - they were much better at organizing things than peasants.
The ending of the war, and how the provisional government conducted its subjects over the war, will be discussed in the next post.

[Visions1]

We've been discussing the poetic general Tòŋ Ú-Jò in the South (and anywhere but the capital) in last post. Let's now turn to our "home state," and focus on the council - in particular, Lȧ Sȧ-Xaɛ́, de-facto head of state.
Lȧ Sȧ-Xaɛ́ was a canny strategist, and had a fantastic head for politics. Notably, he also had very original angles. This is in part due to his studying history while avoiding politico-philosophical works. He had a lot of precedents, and an open mind; while influenced heavily by the parlance that normally went on in the court and was tossed around in histories, he thought originally. This made him an ideal head for the wartime council.
There are several major effects his outlook had on the war. As most are not relevant to the wartime itself, here we will bring down one, and the others will be discussed later.

During wartime, Sȧ-Xaɛ́ pushed the council to initiate several reforms, some of which had been needed for years, but all of which looked temporary om the surface. Chief in them were redistributions.
When learning history, Lȧ Sȧ-Xaɛ́ noticed the general pattern by which dynasties rose and fell. While many would chalk them up to such causes as unvirtuous kings or divine disfavour or even natural law, Sȧ-Xaɛ́ noticed they tended to happen when there was a general breakdown in dynasty power. One of the surest reasons this happened was that, to speak bluntly, the rich got too rich, the poor got too poor, and nobody paid attention to the other. He was not the first to notice this - but he took it seriously.
Early on in the war, he campaigned the council to confiscate property from rich noble families as part of the "war effort" (which it actually was at the time). Sȧ-Xaɛ́ redistributed some of the wealth to the population, retaining the rest for war and buying provisions. The poor were placated, but the formerly rich couldn't do anything about their low position - they had far less money and they couldn't argue against what looked like temporary war measures.
Seeing the success of this policy, Sȧ-Xaɛ́ began to implement it elsewhere, first in other states, then in newly reconquered territories, quickly winning three things: public support, desperately needed funds, and a good argument against the Tɔ́t Pʰɛ̀ Tsʰá (shaking their faith). The very basis of the Phetsha Way's conversions was that they cared about the poor, had mutual aid, and felt status was not tied to wealth, as the imperial gov't let its people starve - and here was the imperial gov't doing just these things He did face opposition from the noble classes, however - including some members of the wartime council - and a couple assassination attempts. But, it paid off.
There were other reforms he and the council enacted, but this one practically saved their necks - if they didn't do this while they were alive, it would have been done over their dead bodies.

Through all this, you must be wondering: why didn't he - or anyone for that matter - assassinate Lȧ Sȧ-Txȍ? The answer is: well, they tried. Or more accurately, a couple deposed nobles did. The council itself actually quite liked him, because one, he generally stayed out of things in any case, and two, he actually had a knack for brokering compromises in the council, due to his easygoing, people-pleaser nature. This all made him a perfect puppet. Seeing a miniscule amount of value in him, they just left him alone to write songs or whatever.

Next two posts (wow this is getting long) will be about the close of the war, followed by a postscript about this series.