The Fiery French

Chapter One: A Band of Ragged People





"Quiet down, people!", barked Joan of Arc. The self-appointed leader of the ragged group people, glowered menacingly at the men, women, and children who surrounded her. A small child had collapsed in the darkness, covering himself with dirt and mud. Disgusted, Joan turned away. Had she failed her people? "No", she thought, "they are just weak mortals." A woman approached her, her hair matted with the dust of the beaten path and her feet covered in clay. Her clothes were mud-splotched. With a weary glance, she entreated the great lady to follow her and gaze upon their world.

"We have traveled far, my lady. We need to rest. Maybe a simple-"

"Shut up!", yelled Joan, slapping at the woman. The woman fell to the ground clutching her cheek where Joan had struck her. "Anyone who wishes to stay here say, 'aye'"

"Aye!" "Aye!" "Yes."



"...", said Joan. "Okay, then, we will settle down here promptly. I want our camp to be more permanent than before. And you", she pointed at the woman, "shall make my living quarters. And it had better be comfortable." The great lady stomped off into the distance. Hope filled the crowd as they settled what came to be known as Paris, a small town hugging the Rhine river, which one day would be the center of greatness.



Years later, the tiny town of Paris grew to a new level of prosperity. The citizens had safely adjusted to their new lives of growing crops and living at home. Even the haughty Joan of Arc had to admit, that the town had a culture that the tribe had never expressed clearly enough before. Throughout the years, their traditions and values influenced the other migratory groups around them. Some resisted, but others accepted the French rule. Soon, the message was spread, and Paris's limits expanded.

"Work, work, work.", grumbled a French laborer. "All we do is till the fields and dig up roads. Our skill with the shovel only matches our skill with-"

"Enough talking." Everyone turned to the great female figure standing before them. "You shall not do all the work yourselves. Another working group will join you. I am generous, am I not?"

"Yes, lady Joan.", said the workers resignedly.



The lady was heard to say as she turned away. "Now that I've secured the people. It's time to secure the world!" Cackling hysterically, the lady walked off, leaving the workers in dismayed silence.

Chapter One: A Band of Ragged People
Chapter Two: A Russian Emissary
Chapter Three: Battle Preparations
Chapter Four: Growth and Development
Chapter Five: Invasion and Repulsion
Chapter Six: Operation Unified Incineration
Chapter Seven: Days of Discovery
Chapter Eight: The Swarm of Troops (part 1)
Chapter Nine: The Swarm of Troops (part 2)
Chapter Ten: The Shudduplees River
Chapter Eleven: A Threat Removed
Chapter Twelve: Tours and Charters in Distant Lands
Chapter Thirteen: Long March Home
Chapter Fourteen: Captured
Chapter Fifteen: Looks Like Fun To-me!
Chapter Sixteen: The Ultimate Writing Challenge

w00t! New story!

Best of luck!

Subscribing!

Anxiously waiting till the Fiery French attack their first prey.

GL sounds like anoth good game has arrived

Sorry, if you guys expect an intensely funny story. This will be a bit more serious and writing instensive. However, as you may be able to tell, this is an Always War game with the French. The reason 5 of the other opponents are chosen could be guessed. It'll lead to quite a bit of fun later on....

Update tomorrow! Will I meet somebody? We shall see.

Author's Note: This is not supposed to be funny. Before, in the Tale of William of Slacker, reading quickly was the key. Now, I highly recommend reading slowly, especially the dialogue.

"My lady..." A soft hand pressed on her face. Cold. What had happened to her?

"Ugh....", moaned the great lady. Opening her eyes, she noticed the woman hovering over her with a wet cloth in one hand. "You."

"Yes, my lady?" The voice was soft and uncertain. "What is it that you need?"

"... water.", choked Joan, her voice raspy and hoarse. She coughed, heaving over the side of her bed.

The woman approached carrying a small wooden jug and cup. Pouring the cool water, she offered the cup to the great lady.

"Thank you...." There was a pause. Then Joan spoke in her slow voice, but this time with curiousity, casting aside the severity and command she had maintained before. "What is your name?"

"Mary, my lady."

"Mary, ... thank you."

*****



"I've done it!" Mary's shrill voice was squeaky when excited.

"What is it, Mary?" Joan curiously stepped towards her servant.

"Do you remember the river?" Mary was clapping her hands in excitement.

"It is right next to us Mary, still flowing as constantly as the sun rises and sets." Joan was not amused. She was about to turn away.when Mary offered her some water. "What is this?" Joan looked at the odd container. It was different. Gray colored instead of brown.

"It's clay!", Mary exclaimed.

"Clay. Some sort of brittle but strong substance." She tapped it. "Where did you find it?"

"It's all around us, my lady Joan!" Mary pointed towards the river. Joan recalled being there. She remembered laughing. Then falling, falling-

Splash! Crack! "Oops!"

Joan was covered in water. A slow smile creeped up her mouth. "... Mary. ... Are you a good tactician?"

"I don't know what you mean my lady." Mary was bewildered. What had happened to her master?

They say the cackles filled the air that day. The villagers started to run, scared off by a mysterious figure with a long spear-like object that could not be broken by the axes that the villagers tried to defend themselves with. Blood flowed through the streets....

*****



Once again, Paris had grown to a new height of prosperity. Its citizens had started to crowd the town driving housing outwards from the center, Joan's cave abode. The people were about to celebrate. But then....

"Joan! There are others in this world!"

"... yes, of course." Joan raised an eyebrow. "You know, I'm the one that has brought you this far, Mary. You could at least show a bit more respect."

"Yes, my lady." Mary bowed and beckoned her leader to follow her. They hiked for days until they reached the mountains south of Paris. The Alps were a magnificent sight as were the people clad in brown that awaited them.



"Greetings, I am Czarina Catherine of the Russians." A rather squat lady was the owner of this voice. The others regarded her as a queen. However, Joan did not.

"Hmm." Joan nodded coldly at the Russian leader. "I would like to offer you a deal. We know you must have some secrets that we do not know of. And we know that we definitely do." Catherine scowled in response. Her soldiers raised their spears defensively, which glinted dully in the bright sunlight. "Peace.", Joan commanded. "I believe that we can give you an idea on how to make nice buildings. As you can see, our buildings are far more advanced architecturally than yours. Not that barbarians would be good judges of such works of art."

Catherine grunted furiously. "We will find a way soon. You will be sure of that. But", she smiled. "we can give you the secrets of building with bronze for something I'm sure. Will you shake on that?"

"Shake?!" Joan was incredulous. Mary, at her side, motioned to her to end her rudeness. Ignoring her, Joan continued to laugh. "Well, you obviously have no idea how to explain your ideas in words." Snorting, Joan mocked, "And you think that ideas are more important than fighting, no?

"Ideas are more important than fighting, true.", Catherine mused. "I guess you'll want something more?"

"All your gold ... now." Joan commanded curtly.

"Pah, is that all?" Catherine waddles toward Joan. "You have a deal." Seizing her right hand, Catherine pulled it up and down with her own.



"Agreed, barbarian." Joan let the last syllables flow out slowly, making their impact fall upon the Russian leader.

*****

"Wow! I had no idea that we would be so rich!", Mary jumped for joy.

"Mary. Those are the funds of our nation." Joan was stern. She looked gravely at Mary. "You do know that I only keep you around because you saved me, right?"

"Yeah." Mary stated glumly. "You were sinking quite deep into the river. I thought that you were gone...."

The two ladies walked off into the distance.

*****

That night, Joan woke up and decided to look at the river, the source of her nation's power. Could it really be so grand? The serene waves passed her by, making a consistent, rhythmic sound as they crashed onto rocks along their way. Approaching the water, Joan looked up at the moon, its irradescent light filling her with a sort of melancholy pain. Diplomatic relations, a growing populous, technological growth. It was all too much. She reached the water's edge. The Russians....

*****



"War?!" Mary was shocked.

"Yes. We must prepare." Joan was using her commanding voice again. Things were serious. "Tell them to finish the barracks soon."

You better build a second city + some workers to mine the hills.

Time to use the whip!

Get those silks!

Update either tomorrow or Thursday. Sorry for not updating on our long weekend.

"Tell them to make a warrior then." Joan sighed. Mary had pestered her for days about the issue. "What good would a barracks do if we have no army?" The words resounded in her ears.

"Yay! You really mean it?" Mary jumped and hugged Joan quickly. Joan cleared her throat. Mary looked down and walked away more slowly. Joan pondered, "Why does she have to be like that?" She shook her head.

*****

"So, that scouting group persists on annoying us, the fiery French people by circling the extent of our lands?" Joan was furious. "What the hell do they mean by it? They think they can flounce by without any repercussions?! Well, they've got another thing...." The great lady trailed off and fainted.

Meanwhile, Mary was alone watching the workers as they migrated to the last field of clay. "Don't forget to bring the water over!", she called to them. Turning, she noticed a brutish group marching towards her. They seemed like an untrained lot of drooling barbarians. "Imagine them as axe-wielding mysoginists.... Nah. They wouldn't hurt women if they came across one from an enemy. ... Would they?", Mary questioned. Unsure, she hid herself behind a rock. "... I wonder what Lady Joan is doing now."



*****

Drip. Drip. Drip. Joan awakened to dripping water. Rising slowly to the sound of dripping water, the great lady felt an urge, an impulse.

The people screamed as the masked taskmaster whipped them. "Faster! Harder! No slacking! Get back to work, you!" Whip. Crack. Slash. Blood smeared the floor. Teams of people fell down. Other bled to death; others died from exhaustion. There was no end to their torture. Seemingly for days the work had to be endured. "Why did Lady Joan let this happen?", they wondered. "Why?" The screams of pain and anguish filled the days and nights. Mary could not bear to look. She had gone off with the workers in an attempt to escape. The harsh tones of the taskmaster filled the air. The grunting warriors followed suit smashing the head and backs in of those who neglected to work, to struggle to live.

*****

She was not proud of what happened. Yet it had to be done. For the greatness of the French.... The bronze clad warriors with their shields and helms gleamed in the twilight of the moon. It was an impressive sight. Something that would be marveled at by those idiotic Russians. But in the night, whispers escaped the houses. Whispers of discontent. She knew they held a grudge against her. Ordering her warriors to help that taskmaster. Hmph. She didn't even remember why. But if this were the results, then it was worth it.



*****

"Again?!" Joan barked. Why did they always come to harass her? They were mocking her. She knew it. Well, no longer. "Send the troops. Do your duty."

"Yes, my lady." The messenger bowed out of the room.

"And away they run.", mused Joan. She would have to have one of those exploration type groups. Maybe her warrior could. Remembering the sight she saw once before. Walking across the Alps. The view once she reached the summit was breathtaking. "Hmm, the warriors should walk through the high grounds if they can record what they see, maybe we will have tactical advantages in combat."

*****

Mary noticed something odd in the forests beyond. What were those dangling worm thingies. They made some sort of strong stringy stuff. It looked pretty good and pretty tough. "Good enough for clothes, but" she noticed "they're better than mine." The rags that covered her were filthy and itchy. Scratched up and torn all over the place. It surely was a dismal sight. "I'll ask Joan about it." Mary had previously noticed those bandit warriors moving out through the mountains pass her worker group. She now felt safe in returning to her home and Joan.... "Bye guys!" She waved to the workers who were moving to the hills beyond as they passed through Paris. A few grunted in response but the others ignored her. "It must be hard, working all the time. Even our prisoners deserve a break now and then!" She smiled inwardly.



*****

"My lady!" Joan was about to reach out and eat the corn on her plate when Mary jumped out of nowhere knocking the cob out of her hand. "Thank goodness, I've stopped you."

"Mary!!!!" Joan shrieked "What is the meaning of this?"

"It's horrible, my lady" Mary explained rapidly. "The last shipment of the harvest was diseased! If you ate that, you might have died!"

"Well, the rats seem to like it." It was true. A small mouse started to nibble on the corn cob. After a few moments, it keeled over and stopped moving.

"Uh huh." Mary left.

"She's so annoying when she's right." Joan huffed to herself.



*****

"Prepare the defences." Joan ordered.

"What's going on, lady Joan?" Mary yawned entering into the room.

"It's an attack."



So in gameplay terms, that means that I let a warrior finish in 4, whipped a spear, Paris was about to grow to size 4 when disease struck twice, walls will finish in 1 turn. The warrior is exploring NE and will return promptly.

Nice chapter. Maybe some humor?

Hmph maybe.

Probably not.

Your last story was extremely funny. Wish I could have good humour, but I don't.

You think so? I was planning on starting another at the same time as this one. So I could always have a funny one and a serious one. And was that good humour? My friends are always so lost.

Now for the kicker question; do you think the funniness comes from random jokes or from an intricate plot? Personally, I'd rather write with the latter, but I know I suck at writing in the first place.

Maybe that is why my stories are receiving views but no replies.

Update Tuesday or Wednesday afternoon. Finals are here. And I only have English on Wed. Morning

As the people set up the last boulders in place they noticed something odd. The advance of the brown clothed bandits had stopped. Instead they had chosen to fortify themselves on top of the Alps. At night, fires burned throughout the mountains, and in the day, raucous yells and battle cries kept the villagers under constant alert, some foregoing sleep altogether. They were wearying the people, Joan noted. It would not be long before they would be removed and the Russians put on the defensive.

Years passed, and the villagers grew quiet complacent to the Russians. They never chose to attack. Perhaps, Czarina Catherine had no troops to spare, or she just was a weak diplomat. It would be alright, Joan thought. We are close to finding the secrets of working with iron.



*****

Mary entered the room in joy. "Oh Joan, it's wonderful!"

"What's so 'wonderful' Mary?" Joan was never into celebrations. She always maintained this serious gait.

"We found an iron deposit right outside, Paris! Ooh, we're gonna be safe from those pesky Russians and maybe we'll even get to conquer them!"

"Mary, you do know that conquering requires killing, right? And you also know that in order to get the iron we've gotta kill those Russian troops, right? And did you know that we already knew about that iron deposit?"

Mary frowned. "How?"

"How else did we research how to make and use iron tools?" Joan shook her head as Mary left the palace quite embarrassed about herself.



*****

"Lady Joaaannn" Mary's singsong voice was such an annoyance sometimes, especially in the morning. "What is it, Mary?" She asked, quite irritated.

"Guess what?"

"What!?"

Our people have doubled in size since the plague! And guess what? Our workers have reached the iron mountain without incident. Now, I've just one thing to ask you."

"What is it now, Mary?" Joan sounded so condescendingly bored that Mary almost burst into tears.

"Oh, *sniff* it's just that *sniff* I wanted to ask if *sniff* you would send a spearman brigade to protect my friends." Mary started to wail. Why did she always have to do that?

"Stop crying this instant! Stop it! You know what? Stop crying and I'll send your little brigade!"

"Oh thank you Joan!!!" Mary pounced on the great lady, hugging her and covering her with kisses.

"Mary."

"Yes?"

"Get off. Now."

"Yes, milady."



*****

"Mary, how goes the settler expedition?"

"Fine, I guess. They're almost packed and ready to go! This would've been a bit faster if we knew what a settler should bring, but the first time's a charm!" So optimistic, Joan thought. That'll be her downfall.

"You know that we must expand our borders or face domination. So far the Russians have found us, but we have not found them. Until then, we will defend. And another town would be ideal to spread out their forces and expand our dominion."

"Yeah, I know that. Geez. You've already mentioned this too me many times!"

"I wouldn't need to, if you never understood it! And I bet you still don't." Joan left.

"Why does nobody trust me? Ah, well...."



*****

"Woof. We're done team. Finally." A worker wiped his brow and sat down. "To victory!" He raised a small cup of French river water.

"To victory!" the others cheered!

Almost immediately, they started to mine the iron deposits so that Paris would forever more be protected by the iron wielding troops. The spearmen nearby watched in dismay. They tested their spears against the iron finding unhappily that their bronze easily bent against the stronger iron. But no matter, as long as their lady needed them, they would serve her with their lives.

*****

"No!" Joan slammed a fist on the table. This had already happened once. "Not again!"

"Lady Joan, we can't do anything about this. We better just wait until the villagers can sort themselves out. The sick die fast and the disease is already under control."

"I know, Mary. But I mourn for the loss of our children who may have served France and revelled in our glory. It is too late."



*****

"We've found the root of the problem, Joan." Mary entered in with a bronze axe stained with blood.

"The pestilence that's been plaguing our people couldn't have been caused by something real. It is the will of the gods, I suppose."

"No, milady! It seems like the Russian troops outside of Paris were hungry one winter, their supply caravan gotten stuck in the mountains. They had to resort to ... cannibalism." She lifted the blood stained axe. "Some of the troops fell of the mountain and into our harvest staining the wheat with whatever diseases they had. And now, our people suffer."

"We will stop this. And we're going to very, very soon."

"You've got to put that plan on hold, milady."

"What now!?" Joan was furious. An interruption? The only one could be-

"The Russians are coming, and our settler brigade is almost ready. If we finish it now, Paris may be conquered!" Mary turned fearful.

"Did they bring that pesky scout?"

"Yes, milady, and we could trash that troop but reveal our iron mountain, and the workers all alone. Oh no! What are we going to do?" Mary sniffed.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's not that hard. See here, our warriors will escort the settler away from the warriors when the time comes, while the spearmen near the iron will kill the scouts. The last spear brigade will defend Paris. Look at the troops that approach. They are undertrained for seige warfare.. All, we could expect from such a barbarous group such as the Russians. In the meantime, the warrior group will stay to kill any stragglers and defend our home from a possible war of attrition."

*****

"Empty the garrison. I want all of you out of Paris, pronto!" Joan had gone insane! Mary wondered what was going on with the lady. She seemed to do this every so often. Maybe there was some source.

"Hey, guys." Mary approached slowly to the leering warrior brigade. "could you, um, go back to Paris? Lady Joan seems kind of, I don't know, off? Please?"

"Hey look! It's a pretty lady. I'd do anythin' for her." The warriors grunted in response. Oh dear.

*****

"So, they think that they can just threaten our workers, huh? Well, they thought wrong, Mary, they thought wrong."

"So you're alright, huh? I thought you went crazy, sending our spearmen out of Paris. I was right. Now, you're sending our warriors out with our newly formed settler group. These guys have no experience whatsoever and they're going toward an unknown group of people."

"Unknown group of people?" Joan raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, didn't you know, some sort of people live out their and have made a town like Seville. I think it means "So evil" but whatever."

"We're going to deal with the task at hand first, Mary. These Seville people will stand no chance against us. By the way, recall your worker friends. They need to help out our new town. We're going to call it Orleans, home of the silk bugs." Mary recalled the time when she had spent hours observing these creatures. It was fascinating indeed, but in truth, Joan was right. She needed to focus on the task at hand. With a sigh, she went off to tell her friends the news.



*****

"Attack! Charge!" Joan rushed into battle with her newly made spear. She had been named commander of the troop unanimously. On her left, the man next to her collapsed, a hand axe stuck in his chest, blood flowing everywhere. She ducked another hand axe, which promptly passed her. "Ha!" She thought. Lifting her head, someone near her yelled, "Duck!!!" The overly feminine yell sounded familiar to her. She turned and saw the hand axe flying through the air, back at her. She ducked, just in time as the axe cut off a few strands of her hair. "Die!", she yelled stabbing the man in front of her through the heart. Slicing through the enemies in front of her, they made short work of the attackers. But in the distance, fires were burning. The other warrior brigade was pillaging her homeland. They. Would. Pay.



*****

"Hey, Joan. We've got an emissary, waiting."

"A damn Russian scoundrel?" Joan rose quickly grabbing her spear.

"No, they call themselves the Spanish. They're the founders of So Evil."

"Ah. Okay then. Let's go."

*****

"What do you mean, war?" Isabella was confused. "Do you think that your backwards nation, can defeat my beauty?"

"Precisely, Isabella. You may think your pretty, but your power is as devoid of substance as your face is of beauty." She knew what she was doing. She was going to rule the world!



*****

Meanwhile, Mary was giving directions to the group of settlers and her worker friends.

"We understand Mistress Mary. We are quite contrary to your plans but alright. I don't see how we can make a living in such a dry foresty area, but okay."

"Well, thank you for respecting my judgment."

*****

Orleans successfully survived the Spanish assault. It was a bloody battle but the valiant French managed to rout the vile Spanish without much incident. Joan was rumored to have taken part in the battle. Regardless, in the years that followed, the workers roaded their way to the new town both connecting the silk forests and the plains nearby. Then to the west came a new challenger....

w00t! Yay!

Very nice indeed