Hammer and Steel

Nice update! Lets hope you don't kill off Epsilon in the next couple weeks...

A Mad King, Part 9



An Old Friend Returns for Business




"Alright men," Ulysses said. "Let's move out. We've wasted enough time here as it is." Turning to his English counterpart, he nodded and outstretched his hand. "Best of luck to you Englishman. May your travels be fair, your paths smooth."

The Englishman shook his hand as well. "The same to you Ulysses."

Ulysses nodded and turned to his own men. "Forward!" The shout boomed across all of their heads, echoing across the plains. At once, the column of scouts, loaded down with their supplies for the long trip moved forward, the tramp of boots echoing off the flat plains. The English scouts did the same, marching off the opposite direction that the Amerikans were going; which is to say that they were going to where the Amerikan scouts had just come from. Many of them had their weapons at the ready, prepared for anything that might come for them.

"Ready for this Nathanial?" Troika already had a five o' clock shadow around his chin and mouth, and he scratched at it now, a raspy sound like sandpaper against skin.

"Sure am."

"Good," said Havnar as he scratched at his head, his violet eyes flashing. The cleanshaven version of him was quite a change from the earlier him, with dirt caked under his nails and dried blood here and there. "We need to be prepared for anything." He sniffed at the air and rankled his nose.

Zach just stumbled along, not saying a word to anyone as he did so. Troika's expression turned dark as he watched Zach. "Hey buddy," he said as he moved towards the smaller, lighter figure. "Is something still the matter?"

Zach didn't answer.

"Feel free to talk anytime Zach."



They marched on and on and on, past the plains and out into an ocean of sand. Ulysses stood on a crest of a sand dune as he observed the scene. "My, my," he whispered quietly. "What have we here?"

"A cursed ocean, one in which water does not dwell." Tor, one of the group leaders with a horrible array of burns and scars that crisscrossed all over his face spat into the sand. "There will be no good that comes out of this; crossing that damned ocean of sand out there will just end with our bodies as bones and feed for the carrion birds, Lord Ulysses."

"Did I ask for your opinion Tor?"

"No you did not sir." Tor spat again. "But you might want to ask the opinion of the guests above us if they think we should cross the desert."

Many of the scouts looked up to see hundreds of circling black shapes. Obviously, they were carrion birds, ravens and crows and vultures (oh my!). If you listened closely enough over the whispering sound of sand scraping against sand from the light winds in the desert, you could here the caws and cries of the carrion birds above them, waiting for their next meal to drop dead and temptingly start to decay. Many of the scouts obviously knew why the birds were following them; fresh meat in case one of them dropped dead or was killed by the unseen force that had been hunting them.

Ulysses turned back to Tor, the latter smiling and the other frowning. "We will be crossing this desert Tor, and there is nothing you can do to stop me, short of killing right now. Do so, and I will cut you down like so much corn before a scythe. Do you have any other idea for how to get around this right here?"

Tor spat, but said nothing. "That's what I thought."

Ulysses turned to the rest of the men now. "Alright men, collect as much water as you can from the creeks and streams; we will need all of it unless we can find some sort of well out in the desert."

"This ought to be a load of fun." Troika swallowed a drink of barley wine, his face frowning and his eyebrows knitting together.

"Most assuredly," Havnar said.

"Indeed Troika." Nathanial said.

Zach said nothing.



The march through the desert began at night, the coolest part and incidentally the part where many people started to freeze and complain about the cold, and for good reason. During the day, the sun was hot and stifling while they slept in the tents uneasily, and at night, cold winds blew across the desert, shifting up sand and causing some of the dunes to collapse like they were made out of twigs and wattle. Nathanial and Troika had problems navigating this place, with a tendency to fall on their faces, but Havnar moved around like he had been born for this harsh and hostile environment. His violet eyes reflected the light of the sun, while Zach stumbled along behind him, his eyes unseeing.

Camp life was a little on the tense side. Campfires were rather confined, and they had a tendency to turn the sand into brittle glass that would crunch and crack. Lacerations were common if you stepped on the cracked glass, and the medics had to go digging inside of the skin to retrieve the little pieces of glass that made their way inside of a person's feet.



The fourth day though was something rather different. Nathanial knew that as soon as he woke up, with Havnar outside of the tent, crouching near the ground as the sound of wind blew fiercely.

"Something the matter Havnar?"

No reply, and the other man just stayed where he was.

Irritated, Nathanial threw off the furs and wrappings that he had slept in and stalked outside of the tent. "Havnar, I don't see what is the problem right-"

Nathanial stopped short and looked up at the sky when he was outside of the tent. "Oh," he said.

The rest of the camp had roused already, and slowly people began to rise up and move out of the tents. As they did so, you could hear exclamations and surprised shouts echo out.

Above, the sky swirled in a tempest of black and grey clouds, rotating in a spiral formation. Long, tentacle like arms reached out and around the clouds, as if they were trying to slip their surly bonds and touch the face of the world. As Nathanial watched, red lightning crackled high above in the sky and lanced down to Earth, or lashed out at other clouds and connected like some sort of chain. Thunder rumbled like the voices of thousands off in the distance.

It can not be....

A female voice intruded in his head. Startled, Nathanial said out loud, "Who are you?"

Think with your mind child. Who I am does not matter at the moment.

Havnar's nose twitched and his hair blew gently in the wind. "Can't you hear them? The children of the desert?"

That's when the snarls of the pack of lions could be heard.




"Oh hells," muttered Nathanial. He made haste back to his tent to retrieve his sword.

Over the hills behind him, he heard a chilling voice that he knew all to well echo out, a voice that spoke of the pain and torture it would inflict, and revenge for what had happened to it in the tunnels. With the sound of a million voices all stacked together and staggered bit by bit, the voice spoke out.

Prepare for your deaths, and make your peace with your gods. For I SHALL NOT BE MERCIFUL!

A giant slash of red lightning illuminated the dunes from where the voice had come from, illuminating the dunes in a blood red light.



"To arms men of Amerika! To arms!" The shout of Commander Ulysses echoed out over the camp. "Spears and swords, prepare pitch and the torches as well!" The men complied unceasingly with his command, assembling in a circle with their spears at the ready, and with looks of determination to stop whatever was out there in the darkness. The clouds wrapped the sky up until the sun was a muffled bright blob, and all the color and light out of the world seemed to vanish at once. A chill settled in the air, a fell chill in which the breath of the men could be seen.

The voice boomed out at the huddled Amerikan scouts again.

"I know where you are scouts. I know precisely where you are at; I can hear you breathing, I can smell you all in the air, the rank smell of fear and terror. Such a delicious smell." A cackle filled with madness and insanity. "And I can tast the fear that all of you have in you as well, the fear for WHAT I AM! But I will let you all live... on one condition."

"Release the one known as Nathanial, and I will spare you all. Release him to us, and you all shall be spared and let free to continue what you wish to do. Release him... and live."

Ulysses shouted out back into the darkness. "Mayhaps we can parley sir?"

"Mayhaps we can... on one condition. You and the one we want; come alone and unarmed. Otherwise, there will be only blood on the sand to mark your passing from this world to the next."

Everyone watched Nathanial now, he could feel their eyes on him.

"Agreed then," shouted Ulysses. "Give us an hour."



They strode forward across the sands, Ulysses and Nathanial did, towards the beacon itself on the hill, the fire burning brightly against the dark sky. Ulysses led them, not looking back at Nathanial except to help him up some steep sand dunes from time to time. Nathanial himself felt extremely guilty; what had he done to bring the wrath of the Stitched Man back down upon the scouting group? Killing him had something to do with it, but he had beaten the horrible abomination to death and then some, sending his soul screaming down into the seven hells themselves. How had he come back.

What waited by the beacon was quite... hideous would be a nice word to describe, a horrible abomination even worse than what the Stitched Man had been before. Long gashes in his face spoke of the damage Nathanial had inflicted before, and the stitches that had been barely prominent in his face now weaved a tapestry, a puzzle of mismatched skin that oozed blood and fluid. His skin was pale white, as pale as curdled milk, and large portions of it had sloughed off to reveal the bone underneath.

"So you came."

"So we did," said Ulysses. "Are your terms negotiable?"

"Not in the slightest." The voice seemed to made up of thousands of other voices, all laid on top of each other for a symphony of discord and absolute cringe inducing sound effects. You could feel the voice crawling into your soul, your mind, and embedding itself deep inside to haunt you when you least expected or wanted it.

Ulysses frowned. "What do you want him for anyways? Nathanial is just a ward of mine."

The Stitched man's black tongue rolled out of his mouth, drooping down the front of his black robes. It would have been comical if it had not been revolting, covered in rot and decay. "That is none of your concern, Ulysses, son of Henry. I want Nathanial for what I have been told to do. It's a fair trade no? One life in return for sparing you all, not a drop of blood spilt, nothing bad that comes to pass."

"It's not a fair trade." Ulysses was getting stubborn now. "I will not sacrifice one of my men for the safety of the others. That is cowardice unto itself."

The Stitched Man seemed perplexed. "Are you truly so foolish? One man is not equivalent to four hundred. Granted, he is the son of your leader, but what makes you stand by him? What makes you do that?"

"Honor."

"How... amusing. I was honorable once myself." A thin white blade snicked out of the man's robes. Driving it forward with an easy thrust, he said "But then I died."

The blade smashed into Ulysses's throat, smashing out through the other side. Ulysses pawed at it as he sunk to the ground, his eyes quizzical at first and then sad. Blood poured out, nay, gushed out to cover the sands in a black, wet stain.

The Stitched Man turned towards Nathanial and smiled a grin so wide that it was like to split his face in half. "Now. About you."

The Stitched Man strode forward, and Nathanial drew back, pedaling back as fast as he could. Ulysses's body had slumped and slid down the dune though, and Nathanial tripped right over him. Back he went, slamming into the sands, his head looking upwards as a seven pronged bolt of lightning slashed across the sky.

As he struggled up, the Stitched Man was already there. Picking him up by his throat, the Stitched Man lifted him into the air. "You can not escape!"

The Stitchd man opened up his mouth, and suddenly the inside of his throat and his eyes were a blinding white, enveloping Nathanial....

A flood of images flashed in front of his eyes now, a torrent of scenes that he knew nothing about. He saw a white haired man battling a black haired warrior on a hill of lose stones; another time he saw a man wrapped in a black cloak leading scouts across hills and plains. Nathanial saw a duel between four people on top of giant metal beast that went past the mountains and the cliffs, rattling on iron snakes. He saw a giant dome, filled with light and splendor in a burning city explode with the force of the wrath of gods. A smiling man upon a hill of skulls, a throne carved out of bone upon which he sat; a cone of light descending from the heavens to flash with the hammer of god once it hit the ground; ranks of uniformed soldiers exactly the same with a iron eagle medal pinned to their collars as they marched forward with weapons slung over their shoulders; a Chinese man, looking sadly upon the ruins of a smoke filled city before turning around to his followers and leading them off. A smiling woman cloaked all in black, holding a key latched to a chain; a torrent of red numbers on a black background, falling infinitely. And he saw the Stitched Man, before he had become what he had become, sacrificing himself so that another could go on.

With a flash, it all stopped. Nathanial was hurled backwards down the hill, groaning and retching up what he had eaten earlier. He looked back up towards the Stitched Man was.

A smoking body was where the Stitched Man had been, little blue flames dancing on his robes. The Stitched Man groaned pitifully and howled out in pain.

Nathanial picked himself up and started to run, run as fast as he could back to camp.

And then, He was there, back from where had been on the ground. Latching onto Nathanial and dragging him back, he hissed out in a normal voice, "I shall not be stopped when I have come so far!"

Nathanial fell backwards, smashing his head again. The Stitched Man snapped his fingers, blue balls of fire appearing in his hand as he brought them up to smash them down onto Nathanial.

Drawing his sword, Nathanial stabbed blindly upwards, striking the Stitched Man full in the chest. The latter fell to his knees, the blue flames winking out. "How... did this happen?"

Nathanial brought his sword out of the Stitched Man's chest. "I'm sorry Caparin."

One strike and it was over.









The scouts had bested the Stitched Man's forces when they attacked the camp after Ulysses and Nathanial had left. They had waited for hours after their clash to hear word from Ulysses of Nathanial; in the end, Nathanial returned, dragging Ulysses's body with him.

They buried Ulysses's body and the bodies of the fallen scouts in a grave on top of the tallest sand dune they could find. Coffins made out of sandstone housed the bodies as they were lowered into their eternal resting places.

Then the voting began for a new leader. Nathanial was nominated without his knowledge, and given almost a hundred percent of the vote.

His first order? Tell the men to pack up and march back to the North, from where they had come from.

They were going back to Washington.

And tomorrow, Nathanial's tale shall finally wrap up, and we continue with the main storyline in Hammer and Steel.

"I'm sorry Caparin."
My eyes literally widened. "OH YEAHHHH"

Verarde said:

"I'm sorry Caparin."
My eyes literally widened. "OH YEAHHHH"

Click to expand...

, my goal here is to interconnect the characters through a web of sorts that spans centuries and even millenia.

A Mad King, Part 10




Homecoming and the Payment for Salvation





The march back north to Washington was an arduous one, filled with bad weather and horrid predicaments. Many of the scouts fell sick and a few even succumbed to their sicknesses, while others became cross and bitter, fighting with one another over small, petty items. The weather, filled with heavy, lashing rain and fog, with an added dose of lightning and thunder thrown in only served to make the men more depressed and eager to go home. Nathanial didn't blame them. They had barely been three months into their wildlands journey and they had suffered horribly because of it. Several hundred scouts were dead, two commanders struck down, a large amount of supplies and food lost due to assorted conditions that had been happened to them on their journey.

Troika and Havnar walked alongside of Nathanial as they made their way north back to Washington. Both were awfully quiet, a far change from Troika's mood at the start of the journey and Havnar's friendlier attitude as of late. Nathanial didn't blame them though; he would have been much like them if one of their little trinity died. Zane was in the back of the column, with his mind slowly coming back to him as the grief over his brother's death dissipated. He had started talking more, though he would not say a word when Nathanial was directly near him. That hurt deep inside, that a friend of his would not trust him... or no longer liked him enough to dignify him with a few words.

Within a month of continued travel across plains, slurry fields of mud, and hills covered in forests, they finally made it to friendly lands and territory. Washington was ahead of them now. They were on the home stretch.





Nathanial chewed on sourleaves, the red, sharp taste filling his mouth in a warmness that offset the cold he felt. Ahead of them from the crest of his little hillock that he stood upon with his men, he could see the city of Washington, smoke rising out of chimneys from where they were at. Storm clouds swirled in the sky, red forked lightning crackling high above in the sky as the winds blew in a gentle, ominous sort of way.

Never return to Washington again... Harison had said long ago. For all Nathanial cared, Harison could go and shove that up his arse.

"Alright men," he said softly, his voice carrying in the air. "Let's not start a riot like we did last time when we came here. Let's try to keep the peace otherwise we can all cook for the city once we drain their mead." Muffled cheers rose up from some people as well as jeers and joking insults. The majority of people though didn't take up a shout or a noise. They were too tired to do so.

They all started forward to the city, the sound of shoes and rags slapping against the muddy sloops and ground noisily. The clanking sound of pack equipment and assorted weaponry that they had collected and still retained with them after the journey made a chorus o little metal voices, chirping at the men of the Amerikan scouting group. Chinese, Dutch, or Amerikan, they all moved as one body into the city. The only thing that kept them all up and steady at the moment was the prospect of warm beds and plenty of food inside of the city.

As they moved forward past fields of crops that had been planted and started to be harvested by the people of Amerika, Nathanial noted something odd. It was midday, not a drop of rain in the sky, and the lightning was extremely far off, yet the fields were unmanned. The crops of corn that were so cared for by the people of Washington were abandoned to be stirred about in the winds.

Troika spoke what was on Nathanial's mind. "Something is the matter here sir..."

"I see." Nathanial brushed some hair out of his face and looked towards the city. What the hell was going on here? Was something going on in the city?

"Shall we continue to press forward sir."

"We have to. We have to resupply after all."

"Yes sir."

The scouts continued to march towards the city, the lightning crackling over head and the thunder rumbling like a great beast. They continued to march on for about thirty minutes, drawing up closer to the city when they came upon the first person of Washington.

A woman weaving a basket out of grass, her black hair a mess and frizzled, looked up at the noise of hundreds of footwear hitting the ground. She stood up and looked ready to flee when Nathanial raised his hand and shouted out, "Can you help us here madame? What is going on up in the city right now? Can't you tell we are Amerikans?"

The woman hesitated, looking ready to flee as the column stopped a few feet behind Nathanial. "We will not harm you ma'am, we would just like to speak for a little while." Nathanial set down his pack and raised his hands into the air to show he did not have a weapon on his side. "I won't harm you ma'am, that is not how I choose tlo do things with people after all."

"Your brother seems to think otherwise." A heavy note of bitterness was in the woman's voice.

Nathanial froze, his hands above his head. "My brother...? What has he done?"

"You'll see for yourself once you get into the city." With that, the woman gathered up her supplies and rushed into the city as fast as her feet would take her.

Nathanial turned to the men under his command and nodded. They followed him up the slope into the city of Washington.



The outskirts of the city had already apparently been warned that the Flock had returned from it's flight abroad, and already the people there had shuttered their windows and barred their doors. Eyes peeked out of cracks in the faces of the buildings, or from cracked doors as the heavy tramp of the Flock's boots echoed out through the empty streets of the city. Nathanial had a bad feeling but could not tell what it was. He looked up the slope to the family building outlined against the gray/black sky as lighting crackled even more. What had his brother done to make that woman fear him so much.

As they entered the market district of the city, a band of warriors appeared, clubs in their hands as they strode forward purposefully. Nathanial and his men halted, their cloaks and clothing flapping the wind as their packs rung out with metal voices as their loose items clacked and clicked together. The warriors tood in a broad, shoulder to shoulder link between the faces of two buildings, their faces expressionless.

Nathanial called out to them now. "Men of Amerika, could you stand aside? I seek to talk to my brother for a little bit." No answer from the warriors.

The heavy tramp of feet echoed out from the left and the right of the Flock as they stood there, and from behind as well. Nathanial pivoted around in a three hundred a sixty view of the situation, looking at the new arrivals. More soldiers, blocking the way, their faces expressionless and mute as the stones.

"Formation!" The shout from Nathanial moved the scouts into position, a wall of sharp stakes and stone swords drawn and readied. The hedgehog formation was a powerful tool in this sort of situation.

"Bring forward your commander warriors! I would like to very much speak to him."

The warriors instead marched forward, attempting to hem in the surrounded scouts. "Prepare to battle Flock! Do not go down without a fight!" Nathanial was panicking though; what the hell was going on right now?

The warriors broke formation, charging against the small contingent of the Flock, ululating war cries already raised in a massive morale booster. They smashed into the wall of swords and sharpened stakes, some dying instantly as they tried to batter their way into the center of the Flock. "Thrust slash!"

The Flock took their swords and their stakes, shoving them forward in one smooth motion, sending the warriors reeling back. "Stab!" Stakes and swords flashed out and cut down men left and right. "Formation!" The Flock restored it's formation, readying their weapons as the surviving warriors came back with a vengence. "Thrust slash!" Once again the warriors were sent reeling back as the Stab order came next, more cut down under the assault of the Flock.

The next couple of minutes were a blur, until Nathanial came to as he withdrew his sword from the abdomen of a warrior. The body slid to the ground as Nathanial looked around; the Flock had taken no casualties, and the bodies of dead warriors littered the ground.

Nathanial motioned to Troika and Havnar. "With me you two, the rest of you scouts, secure the city. If the warriors attack you first, fight back until they surrender. You are in command for this one Tor." Tor nodded, and led the men away, shouting out orders in a ragged voice.

Nathanial marched forward with purpose. He was going home now.




With a savage kick, the large double doors that led to the inside of the home where the family of Nathanial had lived cracked and fell open. Drawing his sword, he stalked in, his eyes burning. What had he done to bring down the wrath of his brother?

"Careful sir." Troika's warning echoed out in the empty main hall of the building as they drew up close to the doors of a second area. "We don't know what could happen here."

Nathanial paid no mind to that. He had a job to do by the gods, and he was going to find out just what the hell had started all of this madness that had gripped Washington. Runners had already spread the word of warriors combating them merely because they were scouts, with the Flock taking very little in the terms of casualties and fatalities.

Another savage kick and the second set of doors were down as Nathanial rushed into the central room, his sword drawn. "Brother!"

A throne, a pure white throne was at the other end of the room, and upon it sat Harison. His smile was lazy and hideous, his face pallid white and marred by scars. He jerked up in one motion, his own sword already drawn. "Well, well, well, if it is not my little brother? What are you doing back in town relative?"

"Resupply. But your men seem a little bit on the slashy side to today."

Harison laughed a chilling laugh at that. "Oh yes they do seem to be so, aren't they? But no matter." Harison readied his sword. "Ready to die brother?"

"What?"

Harison did not answer, already in motion. He moved towards Troika, stabbing the large man in the abdomen, the sword going out through his back. Troika's face contorted in agony as he dropped, the russet sword already withdrawn as Harison spun around, cackling like a madman. Havnar brought his own sword up to block a strike from Harison, deflecting one hit, two hits, three hits. Nathanial was rushing to join Havnar by his side when the russet blade went into Havnar's chest. A sickening crunching sound echoed throughout the throne room, as Havnar gurgled weakly and clutched at his heart. The russet blade was drawn out, with blood taking it's place as it spurted weakly across the floor. Havnar toppled over, and was silent.

Harison was still smiling as the world turned red and Nathanial brought his sword down in a savage arc. Harison just barely got the blade up in time, the hexagonal hilt of the blade blocking the sword as it slid down to his wrist area. The older brother's face formed a querying mask, as Nathanial drew back the sword and slashed upwards with all the force in the world.

A crack and Nathanial's blade snapped apart, fracturing into dozens of pieces as they showered to the floor. Harison stumbled backwards, and Nathanial was already drawing two blades, whirling them around in arcs of burning fury. "Pay for your crimes brother!" A thousand voices seemed to layer onto Nathanial's as he shouted at his horrid brother. "Pay for what you have done!"

Harison retreated now, a mask of fear forming up as the blades that Nathanial wielded whirled around in arcs, slashing and smashing at his defences. It was all that the other man could do to raise his sword and block the attacks, and his strength started to crumble as the fight progressed. Nathanial felt nothing besides blinding rage, the world as red as Havnar's and Troika's blood on the floor. Even when Harison nicked him from time to time, he felt nothing, oblivious to the world he was. "Suffer!"

With one final push, Nathanial drew back both of his blades and slashed them so that they passed each other, one on top and one below, staggering Harison. The two blades that he wielded drew back once more and stabbed.

Buried in Harison's gut, Nathanial let them go and tore the russet colored sword out of his own brother's hand as Harison's blood trickled out of his body and ran red across the floor as he stumbled around. "Good one brother," he choked out as he coughed up blood. "I killed your friend the blacksmith as well."

Striding forward, Nathanial picked up his brother by the collar, his hand so tight in a vice that he started to choke his brother on the blood and lack of air. As heavy footfalls from dozens of people marched forward. "Die now brother." The whisper hung heavy in the air as the russet colored blade tore Harison's throat open in one blow.

Laughing, Nathanial slung the body with all his might at a column, the bones shattering and cracking audibly and the swords becoming dislodged. Spinning around in a circle, the world was red, red, red, red, and far off Nathanial could hear Tor's voice shouting, "Restrain him! He's gone crazy!"

They tried to stop him, but Nathanial merely dropped the sword and fought them all, fighting until his hands bled and he was knocked to the floor, his head bashing the stone as the world went black around him. He watched as the last light went out of his brother's eyes, a wonderful smile of insanity still on his face.




The battle for Washington as they would later call it claimed the lives of two hundred warriors and forty one scouts, as well as two captains of the scouts. Havnar was buried while Nathanial recovered and calmed down enough to finally no longer try to kill whoever entered his room. Troika was buried days before Nathanial could rise from his bed, and the first thing he did was pay his respects.

With his brother dead and buried, Nathanial learned what he had done. Harison had gradually grown powercrazed over time, ordering the deaths and killings of dozens of people. Harison had deserved what he had gotten, no more, no less.

As the new king, Nathanial would not lead as his brother had. He married two years after his brother died, marrying Zane's sister Maria. Four sons and two daughters were born over a decade. Elysia, Vera, Troika, Zach, Havnar, and Ulysses. Zane forgave Nathanial eventually for his indirect cause in his brother's death, and even became his friend once again.

Sixteen years after his brother's death, Nathanial stepped down and abdicated from the throne. Zane would lead until his death ten years later, with the eldest son Havnar taking over after his uncle's death.

Nathanial walked off with the Flock and led them until he could no longer walk with his own two legs, could no longer walk with a cane, and his hair turned from black to silver. His golden eyes remained sharp with his mind, a smile always on his lips for his sons and daughters, for his grandchildren and his great grandchildren.

He still smiled as he went into his coffin and into his grave, at peace with life and with death.

And with his death, a new nation appears on the horizon. A new nation, made of iron and blood. A nation of warriors and the warring.

Hope you enjoyed the story guys, finally glad to finish up A Mad King storyline. It was quite hard to write, and one that had to be reworked several times for the final result. I hope that you sincerely enjoyed the finale you have been given .

At the same time, I will start the next two stories as soon as possible when I am not busy. Which means that they will most likely happen this weekend due to real life concerns unfortunately. In the meanwhile, stay tuned for more of Hammer and Steel!

Elysia, Vera, Troika, Zach, Havnar, and Ulysses

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Coincidence? Or was this meant? Loved the justice-filled ending. And Hitler! This will be interesting.

Verarde said:

Coincidence? Or was this meant? Loved the justice-filled ending. And Hitler! This will be interesting.

Click to expand...

It was meant.

Also, what could possibly go wrong with Hitler?

Aw, thanks. I'll make something special for you..

And interestingly enough, this story is what inspired me to start my own (again). (well along with other things like The Unbound, POTU, and others, but this was one that really made me say, "Hey! I write like this! Why not take it to Civ?"

Verarde said:

And interestingly enough, this story is what inspired me to start my own (again). (well along with other things like The Unbound, POTU, and others, but this was one that really made me say, "Hey! I write like this! Why not take it to Civ?"

Click to expand...

Thank you Verade, and I hope you do well in your own story. You know I will be watching .

When Hitler turned up I was somewhat surprised.

hoplitejoe said:

When Hitler turned up I was somewhat surprised.

Click to expand...

Same here. I knew that the Germans were on the map when I launched the custom game, but set it to random leader for them. Out of nine games I play with the Germans on the map, Hitler appears more than Bismarck and Frederick combined... not my fault.

Also, next two updates are delayed for this weekend. I am sincerely sorry for that .

Vera the Brave, part 1




Discussions and Deliberations









The German scouts were predominately blond and blue eyed, some raven haired fellows thrown into the mixing pot of them as well. They wore heavy gear and weaponry, including lots of travel stained furs that had seen heavy use, mostly wolf and lion pelts. A hardened look was in all of their eyes, a look that said that if they needed to cut their way out of a situation, than by god they would cut their way out and then some. Some of them had taken to drinking and gambling for stuff in some of the potshops of the city as well as the bars. The usual rowdieness had occurred when something like scouts reenter a city, but it had been mostly contained. Within two days of arriving in the city, the German scout party leader had requested a meeting with the king and any other members of the Amerikan hierarchy.

Which is why the scout leader, Klaus, was here now in front of Havnar and two other leaders of the Amerikan tribe. One was Nicko, leader of the Amerikan warrior home guard stationed in the city, and the other was the scouting leader after the scouts had returned to Washington after a long journey. Vera stood by Havnar's side, having thickly padded furs carpeting her body as her golden eyes sized up Klaus and his three man German entourage. A long staff was gripped in her right hand, seeming to grow straight up from the floor as she tapped her foot on the floor. Havnar rubbed his violet eyes and started what he was supposed to do.

"So..." he began. "What brings you here to our fair city of Washington, Deutschlanders?"

Klaus did not bow, remaining in a standing position with his legs shoulder width apart. "Nothing much, King Havnar." A thick accent could be heard mixing with his voice. "We have been sent out by the leader of our own people to try and compile a map of the known world for future use. This includes a variety of different things of course."

Havnar stroked his chin. "Do these such things include war and destruction?"

Klaus stood straight still, angling his chin and his eyes to look Havnar dead in his violet ones. "I can not say for myself King Havnar. Only the men and women of the future that inherit this world of ours after we pass away can answer that question to you."

"Still," Havnar said as he tapped his own staff with is fingers. "Can there be peace between us?"

"Most assuredly sir. Koenig Hans would gladly agree to such a thing." Klaus gave a broad grin, yet his eyes were still chilly. Eyes that could look into your soul, and pull it out through your eyes.

"Very well. Tell your leader that we would gladly accept an accord for peace, until there is no more room for expansion that is." Havnar and Nicko chuckled, as well as most of the German entourage. Klaus and Vera though... neither even opened their mouth and Vera seemed to be openly glaring at the other man. With an order barked out in German, Klaus and his men tramped out of the hall and back out into the city where the rest of their men were no doubt engaging in gambling, drinking, and other illicit activities involving women of ill repute.

Havnar waited several minutes until he was sure Klaus and the Germans had left before turning to his sister. "What did you think of them little sister? Can we trust them?"

Vera pursed her lips, shrugging. "We know nothing about these people as of yet, but hopefully our relations with them can remain relatively peaceful all things considered. Because we know so little of them, we don't know what they are capable of... they could be peaceful people, though it is highly doubtful, or they could be wanting to murder everything in creation that is not them." She looked questioningly at her brother. "You aren't really listening are you?"

"Vera, you know that I always listen to your judgement and reasoning. It's how we are here now, is it not?" Havnar chuckled some more, stretched his legs, and stood up from the throne. "Damn throne is hard as bone, nigh uncomfortable as well."

"We could have some cushions made for it."

"I'm not an old man yet sis." Havnar made his way down the stairs, his staff making the heavy clicking noises of wood upon stone. "Besides, we have work to do yet. Have our people reported back yet from the borders about those new people that were said to have been seen?"

Vera followed him lightly done the steps, boots clicking softly. "Yes they have. The Inca will be here for dinner tonight dear brother."



"What do they want to talk about with me?"

"We don't know yet Hav, they have been relatively quiet, all things considered. They gamble and drink mostly with themselves, don't even go out into the streets to whore and make merry. It's rather strange compared to what we are normally used too with our own scouts."

Havnar chuckled at that as well. "Very different indeed. Still, they are being well mannered and highly disciplined, so we can't say much to the contrary now can we?"

"Of course not Hav."

"Indeed." Havnar's smile turned down though quite quickly. "We need you and your men back out in the field leading the scouting expeditions around the world."

Vera's staff hit the floor with Havnar's, the sounds of both of theirs echoing quietly as they crossed the hall. "And why is that dear brother? Do you grow tired of my presence her in our ancestral city?"

"Not at all Vera. But Amerika needs to expand... we are becoming a bloated city my dear sweet sister, so we must act as soon as we can. Besides, these other nations around us will no doubt be doing the same, correct?" Havnar struck the staff against the ground to make a point. "Which is why we must do what we must."

"I'll go scouting little brother, but on one condition. I won't be going down into the Deep Roads."

The air cooled so rapidly that Vera looked outside the massive windows expecting to see clouds whipping across the sky. Instead it was sunny and pleasant.

"I can understand why... god knows our own father went down there... he was never right again. None of the scouts will say anything about their predicament that went on down there, which makes it even sketchier. Than there was that Englishman that paid a call here on our father that one day." Havnar flicked his violet eyes towards his sister. "You remember that well, right Vera?"

Vera nodded. She could remember it very well... Thomas of England the man had been with golden eyes and bloody skin. He'd burst into the hall and made it all the way to the throne where Nathanial had sat before collapsing to the ground. At which point, he was quartered in a separate guest room in the palace. You could here his mutterings and rants in his fevered sleep and drunken dreams though, you could hear it all. Calling out to men long dead, others lost and forgotten. Nathanial had watched over him for days before the man had healed and then they had had a talk that stretched on for days on end... after that, Nathanial had given the man two hundred guardsmen to guide himself back to his motherland...

That had been pretty bad. The bloodstains could be barely seen on the marble floor now, but no matter how hard people scrubbed, they would not come off.

"Yes you do remember him, right? He was in the Deep Roads himself, had his entire scouting party killed off and maimed... he was the only survivor. You aren't going down there sis, I don't care if you could cross the breadth of the continent in three days compared to five decades overland, you will not be going down there."

"I wouldn't go down there even if they told me I'd die brother."

"Very well." They opened the doors out of the hall and strode out into the gardens. "Remember Vera, anything happens to me or you and the whole place goes to hell. Funny how that now I'm an older man, I am no longer interested in doing stupid things."

"Indeed Hav."

"Just remember this as well. In the event I die, you are leader." Havnar turned his violet eyes on his sister. "You know that right?"

Vera stiffened up. "Why not Troika or Zach?"

"Because they are not who I want to be leader after me. Troika is too warlike and Zach is too peaceful. Neither have good social or leadership skills. They are good siblings, but not fit to rule a kingdom. You however have all the traits necessary."

"Thank you brother."

"Your welcome. Gather your men after the dinners tonight, and get a move on at first light. If anything happens, we will send you message by crow if need be."

"Yes brother."

New Epsilon and Cambridge update happens tonight, and maybe the reveal of the next character as well.... .

I am honored to have one of the characters in your story named after me. Even if it is the opposite gender.

Verarde said:

I am honored to have one of the characters in your story named after me. Even if it is the opposite gender.

Click to expand...

I was thinking more like Vera the gun, from Firefly.

Unless Tycho would like to clarify for the both of us.

Tomorrow's Dawn said:

I was thinking more like Vera the gun, from Firefly.

Unless Tycho would like to clarify for the both of us.

Click to expand...

I'll clarify here ... Verarde sorry for making her the opposite gender. However, they are still plenty of other character slots that need to be filled in the story. In the next arc, the Revolutionary Arc several people will be making an intro.

Additionally Dawn... may I ask you for a possible Chinese name? I would use google translate, but I'm afraid that if I entered something I would get a rather bad result.

The gap was getting closer and closer by the second as the train hurtled towards it, clocking in at close to eighty eight kilometers per hour as more train cars attached to the main part of the train broke off and went hurtling off the tracks as they derailed over the sides and down onto the cliffs far below. By the sounds of the grating and squealing as the train cars still attached in some semblance of order, the train was about to break apart as well. With a snarling and vicious Cambridge screaming out insults about Snowbell carried on his back, Epsilon was in a rather bad predicament, by which there was only a little amount of time left until the train completely went off of the mountainside and killed all of the agents.

"Oxford!" Epsilon had to shout over the swirling and gusty wind that stirred up the blizzard and the squealing of wheels as they continued to grate and grind on the metal tracks. "Can you check below for more grappling hooks?"

Oxford nodded. Both and he and Yulai opened up a hatch on the top of a train car and hopped down below to search for anything that could possible save the agents lives. Epsilon looked around as the train hurtled down the steep mountainous track to it's demise, looking for something soft and fluffy that could cushion their fall if they had to jump quickly. The snow banks were not deep enough to catch two hundred pound male bodies and extra equipment, and whatever was not covered in snow had lots of sharp and jagged edges that looked hungry for blood of anyone that fell on them. That, or Epsilon was reading too much into what they looked like.

Cambridge still shouted out insults so foul that putting them down on paper would have caused the ink to boil and the pages to catch fire. Mostly he just howled and didn't try to hit Epsilon, though his gloved fists would leave painful markings whenever they struck his skin. Epsilon couldn't help but panic... what could he possibly do right now that could save them?

Clambering down into the hatch, Epsilon dragged Cambridge in after him, estimating that they had maybe two minutes left till the train ran right off of the edge. "Anything Oxford?"

"Grappling lines, but we would have to attach them at the last second to the slope. That's too much to risk stuff over Epsilon." Even the big man himself looked afraid of what was about to happen. "We could find sleds or something like that and attach the grappling lines to the back of the train car and slide into a snowbank...."

"Our velocity and mass will just kill us when we hit something sharper than Yulai's wit." Yulai glared at Epsilon as he rummaged through miscellaneous crates. Oxford gave a shrill and insane laugh, his face contorting. "We are going to die right here, aren't we?"

"Not yet if I have anything to say about it Oxford."

A loud screeching sound sounded overhead, cutting through the sounds of the train wheels and the howling blizzard outside. Even Cambridge quieted down with that one. "What the hell..." Yulai muttered to himself as he climbed up to the top of the car and peeked out. He clambered back down rather quickly. "There is a chopper out there fellows."

A loud megaphone boomed outside, it's voice also cutting through the wind and the shrieking blizzard like a knife. "We know that you are in there agents. Come out at once, and you will have rescue support."

Epsilon, Oxford, and Yulai all eyed each other when that happened. "Can we trust them?" Yulai looked eager to leave but at the same time, rather skeptical.

"Do we really have a choice?" Epsilon crossed his arms and frowned. "What make was the helicopter first of all."

"O-22 Dai Ichii variant of the Falcon transport aircraft."

"What about tags, markings, colors? Anything?"

"Not that I could tell in this blizzard."

The megaphone voice cut across the blizzard once again. "Agents located inside of the train, this is Agent Harvard, I would advise that you make a decision quickly. You have forty seconds before your train goes off the side of the mountain right there. I will be lowering a ladder down now."

So it was Harvard... that sealed the deal for all of them. Grabbing Cambridge's now limp form as he muttered and fumed, Epsilon hauled arse out of train car up onto it's top. "C'mon!" With that shout, Yulai and Oxford followed him up and onto the top of the train car.

The ladder was already down as the O-22 Falcon hovered overhead. It swung ominously in the wind, it's rungs drifting back and forth. When they were all on the top, Epsilon knew that Harvard was right.

They were less than a half kilometer from the end of the track. They would have time to scramble up the ladder if they rushed now.

"Oxford, Yulai, take Cambridge with you! Now! Move it!" Epsilon shouted, but it was not necessary. Oxford already had Cambridge over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, climbing up the ladder as quickly as he could with Yulai scurrying up behind him. Less than a fourth of a kilometer away now... but Yulai was still to close. Epsilon didn't know how much the ladder could hold but he was guessing it was not three agents close together.



"Get up Epsilon!" Yulai shouted over the radio in his clothing, but Cambridge was still down there, watching as the train went further down the track to it's demise. "Hurry up you fool!"

By now the Falcon's roll down ladder was trailing by a long margin, and it did not look like Epsilon would make it. Oxford was yelling, Cambridge unusually quiet, and Yulai watching in horror, waiting to see if Epsilon would go down with the train over the side...

Nope. With a dashing run and leap, Epsilon sprinted down the breadth of the train, latching onto the bottom most rung. It snapped viciously in the wind, the entire ladder and chopper being dragged down by the sudden wait, but Epsilon hung on with all of his might. He would not be letting go now.

One by one the agents struggled up into the chopper, heaving themselves up against the odds to do so. One by one they slumped against the back wall while the open doors closed automatically and the heating systems cranked up to full blast. "Welcome aboard agents."

"Hey Harvard," Yulai shouted, "Turn the chopper on autopilot for a bit. We would like a long talk with you old friend."



"So what the hell has been going on Harvard? We can't seem to access TACNET right now... blizzard conditions or what?"

Harvard smoked a cigarette and dipped it into the ashtray. "Not quite fellows. You haven't heard about what has happened in Washington have you?"

"Not yet, no. What happened?"

Harvard looked uncomfortable. "There was a... situation that went on for quite awhile. Some people are dead... little bit of the city is on fire..." Harvard pulled out a tablet, flicking it on as he did so and tapped it about a half dozen times before laying it down on the makeshift table in front of them. "Here's what happened."

They all watched the news reports recorded from the Day of Flames, as Washington went to hell in a handbasket. All of the agents remained stoic, with Cambridge passed out on the floor, but they could see all of the carnage, the destruction of what one man had wrought upon the world for his own agenda to come to light. Then they learned of what had also happened during the bombings and the destruction.

"Agent High Command was decimated. TACNET was taken down so fast, we have dozens of agents out in the fields who don't know what to do whatsoever. We lost High Commander Markson in the attacks, nasty piece of work there. The Verbenschwa are mostly intact, but have their own high command wiped off the map. The Chekra though are dead and destroyed by this point, nothing we can do for them. They had the worst casualties of all of this. Not only that, a fair portion of the government is also dead. Almost ninety nine point ninety nine percent of the government has been destroyed, which means a power struggle is soon to come about. Here's a list of surviving members of the government."

Yulai read them aloud as he looked at the tablet. "From Parliament, Benjamin Harson, Victor Ilyun, Traven Karsen, Li Chang, Lu Chung, Shang Johnson, Boris Kelfelring." Yulai swallowed and continued to read off the names. There weren't very many.

"Almost all of Parliament was wiped out. The only reason why these fellows weren't killed is that some were on probation, some were sick, others caught up in traffic. They were the lucky ones. The vice president also escaped." Harvard looked up at all of them. "There is reason to believe that he may try to have the agent program eliminated and liquidated."

"So what do you recommend us to do? We aren't going to wait for Verbenschwa agents to come knocking for us."

"Get your families out of Washington and into a safe place. Send them abroad if you have to. Keep them out of the way. The Verbenschwa will liquidate you and your entire family if they have the chance."

Harvard stood up and stretched his legs. "Now if I recall, we have some of your friends to fetch from the snow."

"Harvard?"

"Yes? What is it Yulai?"

"Why did you follow us?"

Harvard smiled. "Because Snowbell wasn't going to kill any of you. That makes me highly interested in why she would hesitate on killing the seven of you when she murdered three hundred agents without a single drop of remorse."