The first moon war started when two tribes of nomadic wanderers met for their annual trading session. It was a chance for the hill dwelling assholes to meet the plains dwelling assholes and team up on the poor people of the valley. Alcohol hadn't been officially invented yet, but there was a local fruit that would get you good and fucked up if you left it out in the sun for a few days. One year, while laying and looking at the stars, the leader of the hill dwellers confessed to the leader of the plains dwellers his long held desire to go to the big white round thing above them, as well as confessing his inability to feel his legs. The leader of the plains dwellers immediately said he had felt the same way, and attributed it to the fruit, stating he'd "seen men loose their heads on this stuff and if we wake up naked together in the morning it's only because we puked on each other". He also admitted, in a lower tone, that he'd also wanted to go to the white thing, since he was a young man. He called it Samuin, which meant "Great fucking huge white thing" in the local tongue. A few more fruits and they were laughingly discussing how the first man to arrive would be a legend. "I would live on throughout history!" Said the plainsdweller. The hilldweller became angry, and asked why he thought he would be the one to get there first. A few more fruits and they were spitting in rage at each other. They both stormed off, declaring that next year, they would be the first to arrive.
The Will To Live In History
Both sides worked feverishly, the increasingly maniacal demands of their leaders causing widespread fear. The people of the valley trembled in their homes at the noise that came from the plains and from the hills. Twanging, thumping, screams and roars echoed through the nights. For a year, air resounded with the power of obsession. A time-traveling group of Nazis was fought off, and then eaten. Finally, a year later, they were finished. The hill people met the plains people in the valley. They snarled insults and curses at each other before trailing off. Samuin loomed above, pale and gleaming against the night's sky. One last look was traded. One final insult uttered. And then the now infamous command.
Great levers were hauled back. Wooden gears cranked.
Two identical buckets flung themselves into the air, their crews roaring and screaming.
Two identical buckets crashed into the side of Samuin and caused an avalanche. All aboard perished immediately.
Thus ended the first moon war. Though those involved weren't fighting to reach the moon, the idea of going for a huge white useless thing, as well as the massive incompetence shown by all sides, was felt to be in the spirit and tradition of all future moon wars.