I recently wrote up a story to go along with the report for my last competition game, Epic 21, and I thought I would share it with the others who have been writing stories in this forum. Since I have a large number of pictures to go along with this tale - and it would be considerably over the character limit if I reproduced the full thing here - I'm going to provide a link to my website where the full story is hosted. You can find the whole thing at Sullla's Civ3 Page (http://www.kalikokottage.com/civ3/sullla/Epic21.html) at this provided link. Here's an excerpt from the story.

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Hermann smiled and took a long drink of the offered aleskin. The raw stuff went down like fire in his belly, causing him to cough and gasp reflexively. It was a pleasant luxury to enjoy on a night like this.

"Good stuff, huh?" said his friend Franz with a grin. Hermann nodded and passed the skin on to the next man around the fire, who immediately kicked it back himself. They were seated around a small campfire, swathed in warm layers of fur against the bitter cold of a winter night. Their small company had chosen to make camp in a copse of evergreens, whose thick branches wove together overhead to make a canopy of sorts from the storm raging around them. A first class blizzard was doing its best at the moment to bury the world under a blanket of white, but here under the protection of the trees they were relatively sheltered, at least as much as anyone could be outside on a night like this. Hermann doubted they could have gotten a fire started at all out on the grasslands that surrounded their camp.

"How do you think things are going to go tomorrow?" he asked his companion as he fingered his spear absently.

"I don't any way that the plan can fail, Captain," replied Franz with a smile. Then again he was a new soldier and had never seen what combat could do the best-laid schemes. "They have no idea that we're here, right? We'll walk down into the city at first light tomorrow morning and carry off anything that we want. Just imagine: gold, jewels, fine women," he added with a leer, "whatever we want to take! And there's no one there to stop us. That's the best part of all, a city with no defenders in it." He punctuated his argument by gesturing towards the city that lay little more than a mile to the south. If it weren't for the storm, they would be able to see its lights at this very moment.

"I suppose that you're right. After all, the Mongols don't know we're here." Franz grinned again and slapped him on the back in agreement. Hermann wondered though, and unlike his excitable younger friend was not quite so optimistic. Unlike most of the other men in his detachment, Hermann was more than just a boy recently called into military service by the chancellor. He had been a soldier for almost a decade now and was still alive to talk about it, a track record that proved he was either very good or very lucky - or, perhaps more accurately, that he was both. The others jokingly refered to him as "Captain" due to his age; it was not a formal military title but the sort of nickname that grew out of spending prolonged periods of time with a small group of people. He wasn't even the commander of this band; that distinction belonged to Friederich, the son of a minor German nobleman. Watching the man on the other side of the fire drink himself into a stupor, Hermann could only sigh and wonder why he had been saddled with such an idiot for an officer. As he scatched at his facial hair, cut in the German fashion that left the chin bare, he thought for a moment about their purpose here in Mongolia in the first place.

The Germans had learned through their embassy that the town of Dalandzadgad was unoccupied by any military forces, and Bismarck, never one famous for restraint, had decided to take it by force in a sneak attack. It was a bold plan, one that was likely to result in either spectacular victory or utter failure. Hermann was betting his life on the former. So he and the rest of Friederich's company of horsemen had landed here under the cover of darkness the night before and made their way towards the city. Bad weather had slowed them more than expected and forced them to make camp here tonight, short of the city's glowing lights. Hermann hoped that the snow would let up soon; horses couldn't travel at anything faster than a walk in these kind of conditions, taking away the element of mobility.

He shook off his thoughts and relaxed, idly watching the conversation between the others around the fire. Franz was on his feet making a series of grand gestures in telling one of the bawdy stories of his fabled past conquests. Everyone knew that he was lying through the skin of his teeth, but no one wanted to miss one of his tall tales either. Franz could spin a tale with the best of them, and he was at it in full form now; his voice changing pitch and inflection to highlight each character, arms flapping from one shape to the next in rapid succession. Hermann had no idea what he was talking about now, but it was certainly something amusing from the smiles he saw painted on the faces of everyone else around the fire.

"So then I told her that I didn't have enough money to buy another silk dress," Franz said in his best storytelling voice, "and I that I had no idea where her beloved pink one had gone. And do you know what she said to me? She said," his voice rising to the high pitch of a woman, "My silk dress? But you're wearing it right now!" With the delivery of that line, the campsite exploded into raucous laughter. Hermann hadn't heard the full story and didn't know what was so funny, but he couldn't help chuckling either. Franz was simply too good at what he did to avoid joining in the moment.

The storyteller himself, flushed with pride at his most recent effort, grinned again and swept an overly elaborate bow to his audience. Then he turned to the other side of the fire and bowed again, this time bowing so low that his body pitched forward to lie flat on the ground. The men roared louder than before with mirth, thinking it all a great joke. Hermann jumped to his feet with an oath, for he had seen something that his inebriated companions had missed: the shaft of an arrow protruding from the back of Franz's body.

"Damn it, we're under attack! To arms, to arms!" he shouted over the din. Already he noticed a second, and then a third form wilting under the assault of arrows. Hermann swirled his head around and regarded the surrounding trees. Through the haze of snow that blurred everything he could make out shadowy figures moving in the distance. Although he couldn't tell for sure, he thought from the size that it must be men on horseback - but men on horses in these conditions should be impossible! An explosion of pain burst in his right shoulder, and he realized an arrow had found its mark in his body. Hermann realized too late that the fire was silhouetting his form and everyone else's to make easy targets for the night riders, and so he dropped immediately to the ground. He knew it had been a mistake to build it in the first place; if only Friederich hadn't insisted that they were so safe there was no need for caution. Well, he saw that the foppish fool was dead now, three arrows protruding cleanly from his chest. Hermann realized with a sudden chill that almost everyone in his company was already dead. Fighting was out of the question with his right side all but paralyzed; escape was the only option now.

He crawled on all fours towards to where the horses were picketed on the edge of their camp. Hermann was one of the best riders in all of Germany; if he could get to his horse he might be able to lose the attackers in the blinding snow and ice. As he reached the picket lines though his heart sank; someone had already cut the lines and led off all of the horses. There was no way he could escape injured as he was on foot, so Hermann leaned back against a tree and waited for his attackers to show themselves. He didn't have long to wait.

Ghostly forms melded into the shape of several dozen Mongols seated upon horses, with bows in their hands and arrows ready to be loosed. They could have shot him dead at any moment, but a man who must have been their commander raised his hand and gestured for two others to go and pick him up. They hauled Hermann roughly to his feet, sending a lash of pain down his right arm, and carried him back towards the campfire. The distance was not far, but his shoulder hurt terribly by the time they reached it. With Mongol guards continuing to stand on both sides, half to keep his hands from reaching some kind of weapon, half just to keep him standing up, the Mongol commander approached him.

He studied Hermann's face for a moment before intiating the conversation. "German, right?" Hermann nodded back in assent. "You probably thought you were pretty clever, trying to strike at us where we least expected it, huh?" Hermann did not take the bait and remained silent. That seemed to irritate the Mongol, whose faced darkened a bit before continuing. "We spotted your group as soon as you landed and shadowed you the whole way. It sounds like you were having a merry old time here when we showed up. Do you realize that fire could be seen from almost a mile away, you fool?"

Hermann refused to reply. He didn't see any way that he could survive this encounter, and was resolved at least to keep his pride intact.

"Not going to talk, I see. Well, we do have order to send one of you back to Berlin as a messenger, and since everyone else seems to be dead or dying I guess you're the lucky one." The Mongol commander was clearly disappointed; Hermann had no doubt that he wanted to kill everyone there.

"So you're going to let me go?" replied Hermann incredulously. That did not fit with what he had heard about the Mongols at all.

"Yes, you're free to go," said the Mongol. The guards let go of his sides, and the lack of support made Hermann stumble and almost fall. "But there's just one more thing."

"Oh? And what would that be?" he asked in puzzlement.

Fire exploded in his belly, and Hermann looked down in shock to see a the point of a blade protruding from just above his belt, its tip oozing with his crimson lifeforce. Dimly he realized that he had been stabbed from the back, and as the sword was pulled free he tumbled slowly to the ground. "You should not have touched our island!" finished the Mongol from somewhere above him, and he heard coarse laughter echo around the hollow in which he lay. Then the voices were gone, receding into the distance.

All that Hermann could see was the fire, which he had ended up facing when he crumpled into a broken heap. It was a mystery to him. He knew that the fire was still burning brightly, but the light seemed to be getting fainter and fainter. The crackling sound never diminished, but the light became progressively dimmer. Soon it was no more than a faint twinkling light, no more than a distant star on a clear night. Then it was gone entirely, and there was only darkness around the fire.

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If you want to read the full thing, it's at http://www.kalikokottage.com/civ3/sullla/Epic21.html Happy reading! :)

I read it. It was FABULOUS!! You are incredible. The characters were really fleshed out, like how when Joan and Liz's worlds collapse around them. Bravo.

I'm just surprised that someone posted in response to this; I didn't think anyone was reading it. Glad that you liked it Reddwarfian, and my one regret is that I am too busy during most of the year to write more fiction like this. Maybe during the summer I'll have some more time...

I have been reading your civ reports for months and months. Keep up the good work.

Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't post here sooner. I loved it on your website, and had read it a week ago. You have a great website.

I'm going to read the new one today as a write this.

Your site is really good, all of it.
the stories and the manual has helped me alot ;).

Thank you very much for the responses. It's always nice to know that others are in fact looking at your work, and that it's not just going to waste. :)