Ansar
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The Fiery French
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Not Sarcastic
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Not Sarcastic
"Sword," Joan commanded. Mary waddled over to her with the sheath. Inside was a blade so fine and delicate. It was surprisingly, thin and light. But it would not break against other objects. Instead, it would cut through. There was a short pause as Mary gazed in awe at Joan's katana. "Why don't we pay a visit to our new neighbors, hmm, my dearest Mary?"
*****
"... sweat, blood, and tears." The pale woman finished her speech. Already acting as if their relationship was something golden, to be treasure. Joan was disgusted already. This woman, Elizabeth, as she called herself, would learn humility yet. However, for the moments before their final "separation" a few things had to be settled.
"You, English fools, know of nobody that can build such grand walls as ours. Why, if sweat, blood, and tears might be a possible outcome of an unfortunate disagreement then the bloodshed would all be yours." Smiling broadly, Joan continued, "I propose that we teach these concepts to you in exchange for some of the ideas that we lack. Do not ask us why we lack them. We merely desire information." Joan nodded to Mary. Mary proceeded to plaster on an innocent smile on her face.
"Please, oh, illustrious one, with your divine beauty and serene grace, grant us this one request." Mary was having a difficult time laughing. Joan would need to train her a bit more.
"Oh, I suppose that I must maintain good relations with those lower than me. Benevolence is key to respect. That's what I always say. After all, it wouldn't do at all if I did not spread my influence to ... you." Her expression turned quite repellent upon the last word. Looking them over, Elizabeth followed up, "You barbaric people need to be disciplined once and for all! Here, teach these ideas to your friends. Oh, and take this gold as a favor from me. Use it to buy whatever cosmetics you need. And finally, may our next meeting be far more enjoyable than this one, or fear my displeasure."
"What a puffed up, old hag she is", thought Joan. "Ah, well, the higher they think they are, the harder they will fall." Snickering to herself. Joan shook Elizabeth's hand.
As soon as the deal was done, Joan proceeded to give the orders. "On my mark, we strike she commanded." Her guards surrounded her drawing weapons and raising them menacingly at the retreating English convoy. "Charge!", she yelled. With yells and battle cries, Joan pursued the English group. They quickly caught up and slaughtered those who straggled behind. Sword flashing in the sunlight, Joan sliced through the guards. Blood was flowing everywhere. She was drenched in it. But this only fueled her bloodlust. Her sword whipped through the air cutting right through torsos and travelling carts. However, as she finished she noticed the last retreating caravan and a figure looking out of it. There was no mistaking the auburn hair. Elizabeth had survived. They were now at war.
*****
"Look at this, Joan!" Mary was up to her normal pranks again. Joan recalled the last one where she pretended that disease had struck again, causing Joan to throw out her dinner.
"Mary, it's not going to work. I know that you're up to something again."
"No, silly. Look! It's my abacus. You move these little beads around, and you can shake it. It makes noise too!" Mary's wide eyed innocence was just so annoying at times.
"Mary, abacuses are supposed to be for mathematical calculations. And for war, that means calculating how far an arrow will fly or how much we spend each year on researching new technologies. This abacus is not a toy. It is not a noise-maker. It is not yours. And ... it's mine now." As Mary left, she could here the clicking of beads, shaking.
*****
"But Joan, they're so ugly. And they're always staring at me funny too."
"They are supposed to be stupid, ugly warriors. Though they do resort to banditry once in a while and they do take advantage of the occasional stray woman, they are meant to defend our empire. I don't see our enemies attacking our civilians. I see them attacking our warriors. I don't see civilians attacking our enemies. What should I be seeing, Mary?"
"Um, I'm not very smart or so I've been told, but I think that the right answer is that you should be seeing our warriors attacking our enemies."
"Exactly. And if it makes you feel any better, I'm commissioning a city walls around Orleans. Happy?"
"Yes!", Mary bounced up and down a few times. "Thank you, Joan." She almost jumped up to hug the great lady, but she was pushed off. By the time she got up from the floor, Joan had already left the room. "Woops, still need to be a bit more careful. Teehee."
*****
"And that's how I got the silk bugs to go to Paris, too!" Mary exclaimed. "What a boring talk that was", Joan thought. It wouldn't hurt to find somebody else to talk too....
*****
"We're surrounded." The people of Orleans muttered unhappily. There walls were far from finishing. It would be a miracle if they could survive.
Then, one of them, stood up moving to the center of the town square. "Quiet! Quieeeeeeeet! Lady Joan may have a solution. And we must send a messenger quickly. You there, Mary, was it? I want you to take this message down word for word."
A few months later, Mary arrived in Paris with the letter. "Message for you, lady Joan."
"Ugh, and life was so peaceful without you...." Joan arose from her bed and stood up. Flattening her hair a bit, she called back, "Come in, Mary."
"The Spanish have kinda surrounded Orleans, and-"
"I want the letter, Mary." Mary handed it over. "Ah, I see. Well, let's see what we can do. Mary, I want you to recall your worker friends back to Paris. If you can, make them go to Orleans."
"But they can't go to Orleans! They'll be in danger!" No. I can't do it!"
"Mary, look into the mountains, our scouts have noticed a brigade of archers advancing towards us. We must stop them or face destruction. Either way, they will go somewhere in danger. And Orleans is closer."
"Oh, alright...."
"And one more thing."
"Yes?"
"I'd like you to meet my new assassin. He's been teaching me the techniques that can be used with a katana. Would you like to see him?"
*****
"We've got to MOVE, men!", bellowed the commander. They were to be switched into Paris at such short notice. How odd. What was going on? One thing was clear though, they were sacrificing the mountain that they had previously occupied with valour to return to defend their country. "Now, I know some of you feel inexperienced. That's okay. Lady Joan has ordered an archer brigade to be formed immediately before the Russian assault. The spearmen who were here earlier have moved to Orleans to defend there. We are really in no danger. The danger comes if they don't make it there in time...."
*****
"Message for you, my dearie. It's about the workers." The assassin warmed up to Mary quite quickly. However, Mary was quite freaked out by the man. He was skinny to the bone but could move lightning fast. She didn't even notice him behind Lady Joan the whole time before meeting him. He could disappear and reappear anywhere. That time she was in the shower.... She shuddered. "The workers? What about them?"
"We are some unlucky sons of *****es," a worker grumbled. "I mean, we're in a war, but just because we're about to finish the damn irrigation project does not mean that we ought to be exposed to danger! I mean, seriously, to hell with working! Our very lives are in danger! What the...." The worker turned and saw a troop of pink armored, spear wielding men marching towards them. "Ah. What the goodness it is to have our very own defenders, yes. That's right." Everyone around him smirked and continued digging.
*****
"What's that noise, Guy? It's getting louder."
"There, Andre! Look over on those hills. It's the Spanish."
"And they're heading right towards us! We have to warn the commander!"
"Right, let's go." The two descended into the camp in the valley between the attackers and their scouting point. A few moments after they had arrived, the whole camp was already alight with action. "They won't know what hit them, eh Andre?", said Guy as the two set up traps for the enemy. In the darkness, they would never guess what was in store for them.
*****
"No! I'm not lying this time! The people really are plagued. We must be really unlucky to have such rampant disease."
"Mary, luck has nothing to do with this. We need to learn some sanitation skills."
"But who knows what guck is in that river. I've seen all sorts of animals pee in there. I mean, I've even seen," Mary looked around, "your assassin peeing in there."
"I will have to talk to him about that. In the meantime, try to pacify the people. I'll carry on with the war. Just try to stay out of trouble, okay?"
*****
"Get on the ready line." Joan commanded, and her orders were taken. "Don't let them get past you. If you do, it will not only be your heads but ours as well."
*****
The battle was fierce, but in the end, they fell. Andre and Guy nearly avoided death by choosing to transfer to the garrison's scouts instead of staying with their old troop. It was a saddening sight to see the Spanish warriors raising and lowering their cruel axes upon their friends, but it was too late. The unit they had joined was too damaged to defend Orleans, though it was heard that Lady Joan had recently promoted them for their valorous deeds.
On the Parisian front, it was even easier. Russia gloated that they would give the French peace if they pleaded on their knees, bowing down to Catherine as their supreme leader. Never was the immediate reaction. Russia, in their haste, sent out a warrior unit, which the French spears easily dispatched. The remaining archers were too afraid to attack.
On the English invasion, their warrior continued moving east moving into the diseased flood plains. There, they were left in a weakened state, but they still managed to scare off the Parisian laborers there into moving into the next field. Yet disease was too rampant for the French, and more people died effectively halving the original population.
*****
The French were ready. And Joan knew it. First thing came first, destroy the nearby invaders. She entreated the public to stay strong. "The Russian archers are too scared to attack us, so our archers will be able to take care of them while they are free. Our spears can take care of the sickened warriors. And since Orleans can now be garrisoned safely, the veteran warrior troop there can kill the Spanish invaders there. Our walls will finish soon. So no harm done at all. A moment's peace and silence for the dead. But with heavy hearts we will conquer all!" Vast amounts of cheers were given in response to this. But in thier own minds they knew; it would be a bloody road ahead of them.
*****
"Heh heh." Slashing out at his enemies, the assassin-myrmidon proved quite effective in battle, slaying dozens of archers. With his hidden knives, he would chop off the arrows they fired at him, and if there were too many, he would simply dodge. However, one of them lodged in his side tearing through the flesh. Blood rushed up his throat to his mouth. Swallowing the blood to avoid choking, he grinned and hacked away at the offending archer whose pleas of mercy were the last things that he and those around him heard.
*****
The signal was given to charge. Andre and Guy were rushing towards their enemies with battle cries. "For Orleans!" They left the outskirts of the town. "For the French!" They neared the trees outlying the forest. "For our friends!" They were just outside the bug-filled region. For revenge!, they cried. The two ran into the forest where the bugs were hanging from the trees. They could see nobody. But they knew that the enemy was there.
Hiding, no doubt. They tentatively stepped forward and jumped back as an enemy almost hacked off Andre's head as he swung from a long twisted silk rope. He was about to embed the axe forevermore into Andre's skull when Guy threw his hand axe at the rope and cut it cleanly. The falling warrior missed by inches, instead falling at Andre's feet where Andre dealt the finishing blow. Covered in blood, they ran to warn the others about the enemy tactic.
However, many had died to the ploy. Others, however, were lucky. In the end, though they were decimated and outnumbered, the battle was won due to the keen intelligence gatherers that the spearman unit nearby was giving with their spare scouts. They were able to surround the enemy and rout the foe. Orleans was safe.
*****
"I want you all to know that I am very proud of your defense of Paris. Therefore, you all deserve the honor of destroying the despised English troops that have been robbing us of our food." With the order, the brigade left the Parisian walls and charged at the enemy. The warriors were already weak from the diseased food and were quite worn out from the travle. This was not helped at all by the loyal French villagers that lived nearby who continuously attacked them at nighttime, keeping them all up on high alert, and then slinking back home to sleep.
With Joan's guidance every warrior to a man was killed and none of the spearmen received any permanent injury. Paris was now safe. France was now safe.
*****
"Boy is Joan going to be pleased with me!" Evidently quite pleased with herself, Mary told the workers that the wood they had finished chopping could help the people in Orleans finish their walls much ahead of time. "But then again, she's always so mad when I disobey her orders...." Mary looked sadly at the little bugs who were forced to live in the bushes that remained. "I'm just as bad as Joan. I kill things and take what I can from them." She closed her eyes for tears were starting to well up in them.
*****
"... sweat, blood, and tears." The pale woman finished her speech. Already acting as if their relationship was something golden, to be treasure. Joan was disgusted already. This woman, Elizabeth, as she called herself, would learn humility yet. However, for the moments before their final "separation" a few things had to be settled.
"You, English fools, know of nobody that can build such grand walls as ours. Why, if sweat, blood, and tears might be a possible outcome of an unfortunate disagreement then the bloodshed would all be yours." Smiling broadly, Joan continued, "I propose that we teach these concepts to you in exchange for some of the ideas that we lack. Do not ask us why we lack them. We merely desire information." Joan nodded to Mary. Mary proceeded to plaster on an innocent smile on her face.
"Please, oh, illustrious one, with your divine beauty and serene grace, grant us this one request." Mary was having a difficult time laughing. Joan would need to train her a bit more.
"Oh, I suppose that I must maintain good relations with those lower than me. Benevolence is key to respect. That's what I always say. After all, it wouldn't do at all if I did not spread my influence to ... you." Her expression turned quite repellent upon the last word. Looking them over, Elizabeth followed up, "You barbaric people need to be disciplined once and for all! Here, teach these ideas to your friends. Oh, and take this gold as a favor from me. Use it to buy whatever cosmetics you need. And finally, may our next meeting be far more enjoyable than this one, or fear my displeasure."
"What a puffed up, old hag she is", thought Joan. "Ah, well, the higher they think they are, the harder they will fall." Snickering to herself. Joan shook Elizabeth's hand.
As soon as the deal was done, Joan proceeded to give the orders. "On my mark, we strike she commanded." Her guards surrounded her drawing weapons and raising them menacingly at the retreating English convoy. "Charge!", she yelled. With yells and battle cries, Joan pursued the English group. They quickly caught up and slaughtered those who straggled behind. Sword flashing in the sunlight, Joan sliced through the guards. Blood was flowing everywhere. She was drenched in it. But this only fueled her bloodlust. Her sword whipped through the air cutting right through torsos and travelling carts. However, as she finished she noticed the last retreating caravan and a figure looking out of it. There was no mistaking the auburn hair. Elizabeth had survived. They were now at war.
*****
"Look at this, Joan!" Mary was up to her normal pranks again. Joan recalled the last one where she pretended that disease had struck again, causing Joan to throw out her dinner.
"Mary, it's not going to work. I know that you're up to something again."
"No, silly. Look! It's my abacus. You move these little beads around, and you can shake it. It makes noise too!" Mary's wide eyed innocence was just so annoying at times.
"Mary, abacuses are supposed to be for mathematical calculations. And for war, that means calculating how far an arrow will fly or how much we spend each year on researching new technologies. This abacus is not a toy. It is not a noise-maker. It is not yours. And ... it's mine now." As Mary left, she could here the clicking of beads, shaking.
*****
"But Joan, they're so ugly. And they're always staring at me funny too."
"They are supposed to be stupid, ugly warriors. Though they do resort to banditry once in a while and they do take advantage of the occasional stray woman, they are meant to defend our empire. I don't see our enemies attacking our civilians. I see them attacking our warriors. I don't see civilians attacking our enemies. What should I be seeing, Mary?"
"Um, I'm not very smart or so I've been told, but I think that the right answer is that you should be seeing our warriors attacking our enemies."
"Exactly. And if it makes you feel any better, I'm commissioning a city walls around Orleans. Happy?"
"Yes!", Mary bounced up and down a few times. "Thank you, Joan." She almost jumped up to hug the great lady, but she was pushed off. By the time she got up from the floor, Joan had already left the room. "Woops, still need to be a bit more careful. Teehee."
*****
"And that's how I got the silk bugs to go to Paris, too!" Mary exclaimed. "What a boring talk that was", Joan thought. It wouldn't hurt to find somebody else to talk too....
*****
"We're surrounded." The people of Orleans muttered unhappily. There walls were far from finishing. It would be a miracle if they could survive.
Then, one of them, stood up moving to the center of the town square. "Quiet! Quieeeeeeeet! Lady Joan may have a solution. And we must send a messenger quickly. You there, Mary, was it? I want you to take this message down word for word."
A few months later, Mary arrived in Paris with the letter. "Message for you, lady Joan."
"Ugh, and life was so peaceful without you...." Joan arose from her bed and stood up. Flattening her hair a bit, she called back, "Come in, Mary."
"The Spanish have kinda surrounded Orleans, and-"
"I want the letter, Mary." Mary handed it over. "Ah, I see. Well, let's see what we can do. Mary, I want you to recall your worker friends back to Paris. If you can, make them go to Orleans."
"But they can't go to Orleans! They'll be in danger!" No. I can't do it!"
"Mary, look into the mountains, our scouts have noticed a brigade of archers advancing towards us. We must stop them or face destruction. Either way, they will go somewhere in danger. And Orleans is closer."
"Oh, alright...."
"And one more thing."
"Yes?"
"I'd like you to meet my new assassin. He's been teaching me the techniques that can be used with a katana. Would you like to see him?"
*****
"We've got to MOVE, men!", bellowed the commander. They were to be switched into Paris at such short notice. How odd. What was going on? One thing was clear though, they were sacrificing the mountain that they had previously occupied with valour to return to defend their country. "Now, I know some of you feel inexperienced. That's okay. Lady Joan has ordered an archer brigade to be formed immediately before the Russian assault. The spearmen who were here earlier have moved to Orleans to defend there. We are really in no danger. The danger comes if they don't make it there in time...."
*****
"Message for you, my dearie. It's about the workers." The assassin warmed up to Mary quite quickly. However, Mary was quite freaked out by the man. He was skinny to the bone but could move lightning fast. She didn't even notice him behind Lady Joan the whole time before meeting him. He could disappear and reappear anywhere. That time she was in the shower.... She shuddered. "The workers? What about them?"
"We are some unlucky sons of *****es," a worker grumbled. "I mean, we're in a war, but just because we're about to finish the damn irrigation project does not mean that we ought to be exposed to danger! I mean, seriously, to hell with working! Our very lives are in danger! What the...." The worker turned and saw a troop of pink armored, spear wielding men marching towards them. "Ah. What the goodness it is to have our very own defenders, yes. That's right." Everyone around him smirked and continued digging.
*****
"What's that noise, Guy? It's getting louder."
"There, Andre! Look over on those hills. It's the Spanish."
"And they're heading right towards us! We have to warn the commander!"
"Right, let's go." The two descended into the camp in the valley between the attackers and their scouting point. A few moments after they had arrived, the whole camp was already alight with action. "They won't know what hit them, eh Andre?", said Guy as the two set up traps for the enemy. In the darkness, they would never guess what was in store for them.
*****
"No! I'm not lying this time! The people really are plagued. We must be really unlucky to have such rampant disease."
"Mary, luck has nothing to do with this. We need to learn some sanitation skills."
"But who knows what guck is in that river. I've seen all sorts of animals pee in there. I mean, I've even seen," Mary looked around, "your assassin peeing in there."
"I will have to talk to him about that. In the meantime, try to pacify the people. I'll carry on with the war. Just try to stay out of trouble, okay?"
*****
"Get on the ready line." Joan commanded, and her orders were taken. "Don't let them get past you. If you do, it will not only be your heads but ours as well."
*****
The battle was fierce, but in the end, they fell. Andre and Guy nearly avoided death by choosing to transfer to the garrison's scouts instead of staying with their old troop. It was a saddening sight to see the Spanish warriors raising and lowering their cruel axes upon their friends, but it was too late. The unit they had joined was too damaged to defend Orleans, though it was heard that Lady Joan had recently promoted them for their valorous deeds.
On the Parisian front, it was even easier. Russia gloated that they would give the French peace if they pleaded on their knees, bowing down to Catherine as their supreme leader. Never was the immediate reaction. Russia, in their haste, sent out a warrior unit, which the French spears easily dispatched. The remaining archers were too afraid to attack.
On the English invasion, their warrior continued moving east moving into the diseased flood plains. There, they were left in a weakened state, but they still managed to scare off the Parisian laborers there into moving into the next field. Yet disease was too rampant for the French, and more people died effectively halving the original population.
*****
The French were ready. And Joan knew it. First thing came first, destroy the nearby invaders. She entreated the public to stay strong. "The Russian archers are too scared to attack us, so our archers will be able to take care of them while they are free. Our spears can take care of the sickened warriors. And since Orleans can now be garrisoned safely, the veteran warrior troop there can kill the Spanish invaders there. Our walls will finish soon. So no harm done at all. A moment's peace and silence for the dead. But with heavy hearts we will conquer all!" Vast amounts of cheers were given in response to this. But in thier own minds they knew; it would be a bloody road ahead of them.
*****
"Heh heh." Slashing out at his enemies, the assassin-myrmidon proved quite effective in battle, slaying dozens of archers. With his hidden knives, he would chop off the arrows they fired at him, and if there were too many, he would simply dodge. However, one of them lodged in his side tearing through the flesh. Blood rushed up his throat to his mouth. Swallowing the blood to avoid choking, he grinned and hacked away at the offending archer whose pleas of mercy were the last things that he and those around him heard.
*****
The signal was given to charge. Andre and Guy were rushing towards their enemies with battle cries. "For Orleans!" They left the outskirts of the town. "For the French!" They neared the trees outlying the forest. "For our friends!" They were just outside the bug-filled region. For revenge!, they cried. The two ran into the forest where the bugs were hanging from the trees. They could see nobody. But they knew that the enemy was there.
Hiding, no doubt. They tentatively stepped forward and jumped back as an enemy almost hacked off Andre's head as he swung from a long twisted silk rope. He was about to embed the axe forevermore into Andre's skull when Guy threw his hand axe at the rope and cut it cleanly. The falling warrior missed by inches, instead falling at Andre's feet where Andre dealt the finishing blow. Covered in blood, they ran to warn the others about the enemy tactic.
However, many had died to the ploy. Others, however, were lucky. In the end, though they were decimated and outnumbered, the battle was won due to the keen intelligence gatherers that the spearman unit nearby was giving with their spare scouts. They were able to surround the enemy and rout the foe. Orleans was safe.
*****
"I want you all to know that I am very proud of your defense of Paris. Therefore, you all deserve the honor of destroying the despised English troops that have been robbing us of our food." With the order, the brigade left the Parisian walls and charged at the enemy. The warriors were already weak from the diseased food and were quite worn out from the travle. This was not helped at all by the loyal French villagers that lived nearby who continuously attacked them at nighttime, keeping them all up on high alert, and then slinking back home to sleep.
With Joan's guidance every warrior to a man was killed and none of the spearmen received any permanent injury. Paris was now safe. France was now safe.
*****
"Boy is Joan going to be pleased with me!" Evidently quite pleased with herself, Mary told the workers that the wood they had finished chopping could help the people in Orleans finish their walls much ahead of time. "But then again, she's always so mad when I disobey her orders...." Mary looked sadly at the little bugs who were forced to live in the bushes that remained. "I'm just as bad as Joan. I kill things and take what I can from them." She closed her eyes for tears were starting to well up in them.
carmen510
Deity
Nice! 
The Assasin is peein' in the river? The Mongols would execute some1 for that! (Seriously)
The Assasin is peein' in the river? The Mongols would execute some1 for that! (Seriously)
D'Artagnan59
The Gascon
Need for pictures for post.
Tribute
Not Sarcastic
Soon, after Family Guy is watched. 
(In 1 hour or so)
(In 1 hour or so)
Tribute
Not Sarcastic
And I'm back! And an update will occur today or tomorrow. Thanks for reading!
carmen510
Deity
Uhhhh... 9 days was one hour?
Tribute
Not Sarcastic
He was bloody. Limping towards the palace, he vaguely noticed the people running up and down the streets in celebration. Why would he care anyway? Nobody gave him a second thought either. Gingerly, the assassin climbed the steps up to the palace, recently improved by the people who gazed in awe of the mighty Lady Joan. Lady Joan.... She was the one who brought him up from nothing. She was the one who.... All went black as the assassin fell onto the cool stone under the starry night.
*****
"You." The voice was soft, but Mary could tell there was anger hidden inside it. The skinny man opened his eyes. The hard, stony glare pierced through her. Suddenly, a hand rushed up and grabbed her by the neck. It dragged her towards the man. Towards his angry face with the angry eyes. "You," he repeated. A cold washed over Mary.
Breathlessly, Mary responded in a whisper, "Yes?" The man continued glaring at her. "What is going on?", she wondered.
"Why?" Again. A single word. Again, Mary felt a chill run through her blood. But then, his grip upon her neck faltered, and the arm fell down to the side of the bed. The man weakly, repeated, "Why?" before returning back to unconciousness.
*****
"Yes! Excellent." Joan was certainly laughing it up these days. Whether it was the sound defeat of her neighbors or the fact that she was donning the newest silk imports did not matter. With higher troop morale and a happier populace, the strong believers joined the cause, which Joan had recently named, Operation Unified Incineration or OUI for short. With more people enlisting in the army, the French were proud to stand under such a mighty ruler as Joan. This, in turn, spurred more to join under OUI. The appointed head of OUI was Monsieur Delinquente.
"My lady, I bring with great pleasure the news that the walls in Orleans are about to complete. Town defense will be much aided. This will allow us to focus on more important matters such as making a training grounds for OUI recruits as well as worker groups and settler bands. But, of course," he winked, "my lady knows, which one I prefer?"
"Indeed, Monsieur. I am pleased thus far with your work. However, my assassin will not be joining OUI, as his skills will not be necessary for brute force procedures but rather, he will be most helpful in silencing resistors of authority such as the servile Spanish. Oh, how they wept and bowed low to us as we defeated their warriors. We have no need for such a people. They are trash. Human refuse fit for the lowest orders of society. And even so low, I am unsure."
"Yes, of course."
"And Delinquente?"
"Yes, my lady?"
"Fetch me my servant."
"If you wish it, Lady Joan." With a frown, the young man turned towards the palace and stomped off.
*****
Skirmishes were all one could expect these days. However, when a sudden surge of Russian archers advanced towards the French, complacency might have resulted in a humiliating defeat had it not been for Mary's quick reconaissance with the locals in the mountains who watched enemies from afar. With Joan leading the spearman brigade of Paris, the archers were crushed before the second wave of spearmen could come up to aid the first.
It was through a similar fashion that Mary was informed of a large group of brutish English warriors approaching Orleans. Happily, though, the town had already rigged up a strong wall that would easily survive any attacks. It would be suicide for an untrained band of barbarians to attempt to overrun the defenders. But try as they might, Lady Joan always welcomed attacks mentioning something along the lines of battle experience.
However, people could not always be relied upon. Other factors such as disease were a constant plague upon Paris. Rumor had it that whenever Joan were to leave the capital, disease would strike, certainly a lie that would be hard to reverse, Joan thought. Maybe, she could persuade the people otherwise....
*****
"There they are!", whispered Andre to Guy, motioning frantically at the uncoming mass of orange clad warriors. The workers had recently run off. "To hide, no doubt", Andre thought cynically. Rolling his eyes, he turned to his partner, a compatriot in a world of suffering. The past few years had been simple, the two had waited in Orleans with the remains of their warriors while Lady Joan, bless her soul, would send many more warriors to join them. Some sort of organization called OUI, he believed. Guy was off again gazing into space. Or was it that odd silk bug on the wall? Guy, though dull, was reliable, the most reliable friend he could ever have. And Andre knew it too.
*****
Like she said, it was suicide. And that's exactly what they saw at the gates of Orleans, Monsieur Delinquente personally joining in the battle with the spearmen while Lady Joan looked on. "Probably trying to avoid me," he thought. "She can't stand the temptation." Grinning inwardly, he stabbed yet another warrior through the chest. That was the twenthieth one today, not including those who ran away into the bludgeoning axes of their allies. With a grimace, he noted that it was a long ways before he would ever be able to woo a great lady like Lady Joan.
*****
"It's about time, we got to do somethin'!", Andre moaned. It had been too long. He was about to taste the battlefield yet again. Sweat and blood, that's what he recalled. Or was it toil and tears? No, the former were for him. The latter, for the enemy.
Andre was moaning again. He had gotten so bored after the brigade had to be refitted and resupplied. But it had been years since they had been camped in Orleans. And now, it was time for battle. Yet Guy had forgotten it all. How to fight, how to flow with the constantly changing atmosphere. He still remembered the day in the woods. It was he who saved Andre. It was he who would also save a country.
As they marched out from Orleans, they saw a battle raging ahead; an archer company was engaging the Brits. Though beaten back at first from the strong positions of the warriors, the archers were able to shoot out the front lines of the warriors, and at a safe distance from hand axes, take care of those who wildly fled. They had come to late. With a sigh, Andre and Guy reluctantly continued their march and congratulated the archers who had taken away their spoils.
*****
"Oh, no. Don't die. What do I do? What do I do?", Mary looked around apprehensively. Thoroughly confused by the events around her, she attempted to locate any healer she could find. But none were there. Dabbing at the man's face with a wet handkerchief, she attempted to calm down. It was all so frightening! One moment he was choking her, admittedly, not very hard, but the next, he had fell unconscious again! Silently, she buried her head into his pillow and started to cry.
"You." That voice. Mary almost jumped in shock. A hand grabbed her hair and pulled her towards the assassin's face. "Why? Why do you do this?"
And he finally speaks. "Do w-what?", Mary whimpered.
Taking a deep, pained breath, the assassin slowly explained. "Why do you attempt to rid yourself of me? Why do you seek to take from me what I have gained? And now, why would you tend to me so dearly?" The assassin fell silent. That was quite a speech, considering his usual one word sentences.
Quite uncertain still, Mary took a guess, "Are you mad at me for something? Did Joan tell you about me telling her about how you peed in the river because I remember that when I told her about that she told me that she would tell you something about it and maybe you might tell me what she told you?"
The assassin made a slight smile. Clearly amused, the normally emotionless man took a small breath to explain, but then a gasp of pain left his body.
"Ah, no! Your wound. It's open again. I don't know what to do! The blood won't stop...."
*****
"And those are the secrets of scripture, my lady." Bowing low, the old man was an impressive sight. Extremely wrinkled, the man already showed signs of decay. All of them, but mental decay. And Joan was clearly impressed.
"Monsieur Esca, a now appoint thee as my wisest mystic advisor. Your new title will be Archsage. And do you accept, Archsage Esca?"
"I accept, my lady." With a grin of yellowed teeth, the old man bowed himself out of the throne room.
"Now," Joan considered, "where are those two?"
Author's Note: I believe this game will be lost. What with the 10 disease strike thingies (a very close estimate, not exaggeration), I think that's about 5 settlers lost as well as many more troops, right there. Oh well, the story's what counts, right? No really, am I right? You're all really quiet out there....
*****
"You." The voice was soft, but Mary could tell there was anger hidden inside it. The skinny man opened his eyes. The hard, stony glare pierced through her. Suddenly, a hand rushed up and grabbed her by the neck. It dragged her towards the man. Towards his angry face with the angry eyes. "You," he repeated. A cold washed over Mary.
Breathlessly, Mary responded in a whisper, "Yes?" The man continued glaring at her. "What is going on?", she wondered.
"Why?" Again. A single word. Again, Mary felt a chill run through her blood. But then, his grip upon her neck faltered, and the arm fell down to the side of the bed. The man weakly, repeated, "Why?" before returning back to unconciousness.
*****
"Yes! Excellent." Joan was certainly laughing it up these days. Whether it was the sound defeat of her neighbors or the fact that she was donning the newest silk imports did not matter. With higher troop morale and a happier populace, the strong believers joined the cause, which Joan had recently named, Operation Unified Incineration or OUI for short. With more people enlisting in the army, the French were proud to stand under such a mighty ruler as Joan. This, in turn, spurred more to join under OUI. The appointed head of OUI was Monsieur Delinquente.
"My lady, I bring with great pleasure the news that the walls in Orleans are about to complete. Town defense will be much aided. This will allow us to focus on more important matters such as making a training grounds for OUI recruits as well as worker groups and settler bands. But, of course," he winked, "my lady knows, which one I prefer?"
"Indeed, Monsieur. I am pleased thus far with your work. However, my assassin will not be joining OUI, as his skills will not be necessary for brute force procedures but rather, he will be most helpful in silencing resistors of authority such as the servile Spanish. Oh, how they wept and bowed low to us as we defeated their warriors. We have no need for such a people. They are trash. Human refuse fit for the lowest orders of society. And even so low, I am unsure."
"Yes, of course."
"And Delinquente?"
"Yes, my lady?"
"Fetch me my servant."
"If you wish it, Lady Joan." With a frown, the young man turned towards the palace and stomped off.
*****
Skirmishes were all one could expect these days. However, when a sudden surge of Russian archers advanced towards the French, complacency might have resulted in a humiliating defeat had it not been for Mary's quick reconaissance with the locals in the mountains who watched enemies from afar. With Joan leading the spearman brigade of Paris, the archers were crushed before the second wave of spearmen could come up to aid the first.
It was through a similar fashion that Mary was informed of a large group of brutish English warriors approaching Orleans. Happily, though, the town had already rigged up a strong wall that would easily survive any attacks. It would be suicide for an untrained band of barbarians to attempt to overrun the defenders. But try as they might, Lady Joan always welcomed attacks mentioning something along the lines of battle experience.
However, people could not always be relied upon. Other factors such as disease were a constant plague upon Paris. Rumor had it that whenever Joan were to leave the capital, disease would strike, certainly a lie that would be hard to reverse, Joan thought. Maybe, she could persuade the people otherwise....
*****
"There they are!", whispered Andre to Guy, motioning frantically at the uncoming mass of orange clad warriors. The workers had recently run off. "To hide, no doubt", Andre thought cynically. Rolling his eyes, he turned to his partner, a compatriot in a world of suffering. The past few years had been simple, the two had waited in Orleans with the remains of their warriors while Lady Joan, bless her soul, would send many more warriors to join them. Some sort of organization called OUI, he believed. Guy was off again gazing into space. Or was it that odd silk bug on the wall? Guy, though dull, was reliable, the most reliable friend he could ever have. And Andre knew it too.
*****
Like she said, it was suicide. And that's exactly what they saw at the gates of Orleans, Monsieur Delinquente personally joining in the battle with the spearmen while Lady Joan looked on. "Probably trying to avoid me," he thought. "She can't stand the temptation." Grinning inwardly, he stabbed yet another warrior through the chest. That was the twenthieth one today, not including those who ran away into the bludgeoning axes of their allies. With a grimace, he noted that it was a long ways before he would ever be able to woo a great lady like Lady Joan.
*****
"It's about time, we got to do somethin'!", Andre moaned. It had been too long. He was about to taste the battlefield yet again. Sweat and blood, that's what he recalled. Or was it toil and tears? No, the former were for him. The latter, for the enemy.
Andre was moaning again. He had gotten so bored after the brigade had to be refitted and resupplied. But it had been years since they had been camped in Orleans. And now, it was time for battle. Yet Guy had forgotten it all. How to fight, how to flow with the constantly changing atmosphere. He still remembered the day in the woods. It was he who saved Andre. It was he who would also save a country.
As they marched out from Orleans, they saw a battle raging ahead; an archer company was engaging the Brits. Though beaten back at first from the strong positions of the warriors, the archers were able to shoot out the front lines of the warriors, and at a safe distance from hand axes, take care of those who wildly fled. They had come to late. With a sigh, Andre and Guy reluctantly continued their march and congratulated the archers who had taken away their spoils.
*****
"Oh, no. Don't die. What do I do? What do I do?", Mary looked around apprehensively. Thoroughly confused by the events around her, she attempted to locate any healer she could find. But none were there. Dabbing at the man's face with a wet handkerchief, she attempted to calm down. It was all so frightening! One moment he was choking her, admittedly, not very hard, but the next, he had fell unconscious again! Silently, she buried her head into his pillow and started to cry.
"You." That voice. Mary almost jumped in shock. A hand grabbed her hair and pulled her towards the assassin's face. "Why? Why do you do this?"
And he finally speaks. "Do w-what?", Mary whimpered.
Taking a deep, pained breath, the assassin slowly explained. "Why do you attempt to rid yourself of me? Why do you seek to take from me what I have gained? And now, why would you tend to me so dearly?" The assassin fell silent. That was quite a speech, considering his usual one word sentences.
Quite uncertain still, Mary took a guess, "Are you mad at me for something? Did Joan tell you about me telling her about how you peed in the river because I remember that when I told her about that she told me that she would tell you something about it and maybe you might tell me what she told you?"
The assassin made a slight smile. Clearly amused, the normally emotionless man took a small breath to explain, but then a gasp of pain left his body.
"Ah, no! Your wound. It's open again. I don't know what to do! The blood won't stop...."
*****
"And those are the secrets of scripture, my lady." Bowing low, the old man was an impressive sight. Extremely wrinkled, the man already showed signs of decay. All of them, but mental decay. And Joan was clearly impressed.
"Monsieur Esca, a now appoint thee as my wisest mystic advisor. Your new title will be Archsage. And do you accept, Archsage Esca?"
"I accept, my lady." With a grin of yellowed teeth, the old man bowed himself out of the throne room.
"Now," Joan considered, "where are those two?"
Author's Note: I believe this game will be lost. What with the 10 disease strike thingies (a very close estimate, not exaggeration), I think that's about 5 settlers lost as well as many more troops, right there. Oh well, the story's what counts, right? No really, am I right? You're all really quiet out there....
Ansar
Détente avec l'été
Im enjoying Doodoo Training Game . 
Is the thing with Mary and the assassin based off Nemo and Jaffar in fire Emblem? I remeber the 'your wounds opened' line from it. But any way, not a bad story. If it weren't for the fact that I hate the French, I'd say its a very well done work. The French are not to be trusted!
Tribute
Not Sarcastic
Nemo? Like the fish? Nemo es emo. That's what we said in Spanish class!
At any rate, I guess I did kind of use what they said and stuff
, but it's been a long time since I've played that game. Ooh, I wanna play again! And, wow, Nino (Edit: Looked up) and Jaffar are kind of like this except that Jaffar isn't like the assassin. I don't believe Jaffar tries to ever hurt Nino. Well, we'll see (after I finish playing).
And you hate the French? Okay. And where is Bastogne? Is it Germany? It's Germany, isn't it?
At any rate, I guess I did kind of use what they said and stuff
, but it's been a long time since I've played that game. Ooh, I wanna play again! And, wow, Nino (Edit: Looked up) and Jaffar are kind of like this except that Jaffar isn't like the assassin. I don't believe Jaffar tries to ever hurt Nino. Well, we'll see (after I finish playing).And you hate the French? Okay. And where is Bastogne? Is it Germany? It's Germany, isn't it?
Sorry about that. I haven't played the game in a while. Jaffar doesn't try to kill Nino. And yea, I just don't like France. I see them as ungratful, rude, and stupid. And Bastogne is in Belgium. In World War Two, during the Battle of the Buldge, The U.S. 101st airborne division held Bastogne despite being surrounded and under supplied. They were relieved by the 4th armored division (My great grandfather was one of the first men to link up with the paratroops!) and Patton's third army. After that, the paratroops fought valiantly in the Battle of the Buldge. In truth though, i'm from Indiana.
edit: and don't worry about using lines from the game. my friends do it all the time. And it really doesn't matter if its about the French. Its still well written. o what'll become of the assassin?
edit: and don't worry about using lines from the game. my friends do it all the time. And it really doesn't matter if its about the French. Its still well written. o what'll become of the assassin?
Tribute
Not Sarcastic
It had been many years of peace and prosperity for France. True, all nations maintained hostilities towards it, but without any direct attacks, their threats were meanlingless. Until now. Approaching from the north, more bands of English warriors were moving aggressively towards Orleans while from the south, a new threat appeared. Egypt, of lands most fertile greatly outnumbered the French men in territory and power. It was obvious that Joan would not appreciate what they would have to offer; two people with superior attitudes would not mix.
Imperiously, Pharoahess Cleopatra gazed down at the French leader. Carried by four of her slave servants with no other attendants about her, she appeared to have an aura of power and a way of exacting complete and total loyalty from her subjects. "And you are?", she asked haughtily.
"I am Joan of Arc, leader of the French people. And what do you call your," she paused, "tribe?" The sarcasm in the final word struck the Egyptian queen like an arrow.
Disregarding the insult, she replied, "We are the Egyptians, the most glorious of all nations that roam over the earth."
"I see, four people and an ape constitutes a most glorious nation."
Again ignoring the rude display that the odd French leader was putting on, Cleopatra continued, "And we would like to have an expression of your servitude to our mighty nation. I suggest a trade of ideas. What say you?"
"I would agree."
"Then it is done." Snapping her fingers, a few more servants appeared from nowhere bringing in bags of gold and a corpse and revealing in front of the whole French court how to mummify a person. All were too apalled to stop the frightful display. After it was over, the smell of stomach acid filled the room, overpowering the odors of the embalming fluids. "And now for your part of the deal?"
"I suppose such a frightful display deserves some sort of compensation. Here, take this list of letters."
"Letters?" Cleopatra was both confused and incredulous. What use were symbols?
"Yes, letters. I suppose you'll find a use for them. We," Joan paused for emphasis, "obviously have."
"I demand that you reveal these secrets to me immediately. Do you dare to insult me, Queen Cleopatra, ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt, once again?" The queen's voice rose progressively higher, eventually culminating in a shrieking noise. Calming down, she stated, "I have ignored quite graciously your previous insults, but now your resistance must cease. Do you pledge complete allegiance with me, with Egypt?"
Joan did not even consider the proposal for a moment. Smiling sweetly, she said, "I think you had better leave, Cleopatra, before I remove your head." Drawing a sword, she advanced on the Egyptian. The Egyptians fled. As they departed, a voice was heard to return, "We will not forget this, Joan of Arc."
*****
Monsieur Delinquente was making a routine visit to the new building that Orleans was constructing. He called it a barracks. It was not only a building, but it had an enormous expanse of grounds under its control. The barracks would be the center for training, a perfect place to season veterans even before they had gone into battle. After all, a trained soldier was better than an unprepared one. Chuckling to himself, Monsieur Delinquente wondered if this one building, this one structure, could ensure victory would go to the nation of France.
*****
Louis was in his lab again, tinkering. As a young boy, he had contracted a cold that had bedridden him for weeks with a fever so burning, it seemed that he would have died. But he had survived. As a result, however, his body was so frail that he could no longer go outside, no matter how much he longed to see nature, to see the sun. He was to remain locked up, forevermore. Yet not all was lost, Louis exercised as much as he could so that one day, he would be able to expose his body to the outside world, healthy enough not to get sick again. And today, he had fallen under the depression again that he would never be able to leave his prison home.
His parents were rich, of course, and had supplied him with many healers and even the occasional priest and witch doctor. But they had long since lost hope, simply giving whatever their poor, broken son desired. Louis had quickly formed a passion for inventing, quietly venting out his disgust for the poor lot he had drawn in life.
Today, he was in a particularly destructive mood. His goal was to break down his prison. He cared not what would happen to him. And there he was, chopping wood and placing small boulders in various locations. The contraption he built was surprisingly small. Made mostly of wood, the device seemed to have an iron cup to store boulders. The cup was drawn back by a rope, and when let go, the boulder would fly quite fast into whatever was ahead. And the house fell down.
*****
Archsage Esca brooded over these ideas. Well, they were more questions than ideas, but his students were getting somewhere. Then somebody asked for the purpose of even existing in the first place. Why did the gods simply create people? It could not have been for amusement. No, there was something else....
*****
Monsieur Delinquente looked up. What? Had they really gotten here so fast? The English had occupied the infamous mountain west of Orleans leering and jeering at the French citizens who were hiding in their homes. Delinquente believed in the defenses of Orleans, the solid wall and the spearman defenders would easily overcome whatever was thrown at them. Reinforcements were coming too. And with their new weapon, what was it called again? The catapult. Things would be easy from now on....
*****
A male leader? Joan was quite confused. Men were rash and unable to rule without being calm and rational. Shaking her head, she turned to the Incan leader.
"Heh heh heh. Hello there. Would you like to play with me?" Pachacuti didn't know what had overcome him. Why was he acting like this. He felt a grin creep onto his face.
Joan didn't know quite what to respond. She decided to switch things into a more businesslike tone. "And I suppose that you, like all the rest, want to trade some ideas?"
"Sure, you trade me a precious little idea of yours, and I'll," he winked, "give you a little somethin' somethin'. Heh heh."
"Um yes, then. Let's see. We traded these little things before.... Okay, here are a bunch of letters."
Pachacuti's smile faded. "Letters? What would I want to do with a bunch of symbols? Oh," the Incan grinned again, "is this an invitation for me to teach you some things? We could talk at length about magic or even ride on animals. I could ride on you, if you wanted."
"... and we'll give you a way to fling stuff at people a different way. Then maybe you'll go away." Joan shook her head.
"Nah. I know what I want. And I get what I want. Now." The Incan leader advanced on Joan who drew her sword and promptly hacked off the Incan's hair. Slightly balded, Pachacuti backed away. "I will receive what is due me." His runners quickly picked him up and retreated.
"Pity. You never will."
*****
"Fire at will." Louis felt wonderfully alive. Here he was, finally free from the world that had shut him out for so long. And better yet, he was given command of a few of the catapults that he had built. Louis was always a born leader; his spoiled childhood had assured him that. Luckily, the men under him knew that what he ordered would be best for France, the nation that they were all fighting for.
As the boulders crashed around the mountain ranges randomly, English warriors were knocked down and killed. Added to the fury of arrow waves that were coming towards them, they finally managed to regroup. In a desperate attack, they charged the already advancing archers, only managing to cut a few down, before eventually, getting surrounded and utterly destroyed.
*****
It was heard from far and wide that somehow the Spanish had created a colassal naked bronze man appropriately called the Colossus. Joan knew it was rubbish. The whole concept of building such a statue was worthless to her. Why would Isabella create a giant man in her own capital city? Joan smirked. It was probably to fulfill a quota, which Isabella lacked....
*****
Another Russian advance. Catherine was confident that this time, Paris would be crushed. What she didn't know was that roads were the key to French strength. Travelling quickly on them, the various troop types that Joan commanded could easily overtake and defeat any lone battalion of soldiers.
And Catherine had sent the exact same troops again. A warrior brigade and an archer group. Too bad, Orleans had already recovered. The French had sent their troops back to Paris.
*****
"Lady Joan." Rising, Archsage Esca called for one of his students to rise and greet the queen. His name was Pasteur.
"My lady." Pasteur bowed low.
"Up, you! Archsage Esca, what is the meaning of this?! We are under seige, and you bring me to meet one of your students! I have half a mind to remove your title and send you to your grave."
"Ah no, Lady Joan." The withered man motioned towards Pasteur. "This man has led us towards a brilliant new discovery. With his many incisive questions of why we exist on the world, we have uncovered many secrets."
"Yes, my lady. We now have different ideals through which people can live as well as extensive knowledge of the various gods under the sky that watch down over us and govern our daily lives."
"Hmmm." Joan was still annoyed. "I'm listening...."
(Game terms: I got an SGL for Polytheism, which was free from Philosophy)
*****
Pachacuti knew something was wrong. An arrow whizzed to his feet. Looking up, he saw the forms of many French archers attacking the scouts and attendants around him. He ran. And ran. Only a few of his attendants had survived. But the scouting group was utterly destroyed. Blood was flowing down the volcanic mountains into the gurgling holes.
*****
"I told you I could do it." Pasteur was proud. The monuments were magnificent. They would be perfect for storing the bodies of the people using the mummification methods the Egyptians had outlined so graphically.
Archsage Esca was crying tears of pure joy and wonder at the marvels of science. He knew that upon seeing these pyramids, even Joan would reconsider the value of having national monuments. These were pillars of success, wonders of the world.
*****
"And it is with great regret that you will all have to leave. May your travels bring us triumph." Cheers resounded through the palace halls at these words. Both the settler band and Parisian defenders were off to settle a new town. And in their hearts, they knew, they had to survive.
*****
Guy and Andre were camped in the mountains scouting out the Russian enemies. It mattered not that they were defending a mountain, but rather what was on it. Louis's catapults were firing on the mountains at the Russian invaders who were seeking to pillage their iron imports. What a shame. It had been decided that the group would move to the mountains and fire upon those who approached, one defending the other. The catapults would weaken all who approached and damage those who attacked. The warrior brigade would prevent the capture of the catapults and finish off the weakened. It was simple. Yet it was deadly.
*****
"I was born on the plains of Paris just near what was the border when they came. The Russians killed everyone, leaving none alive. I saw my parents die in cold blood. It was...." The assassin paused as if uncertain. Mary, that was her name, right? Could she be trusted?
"You don't have to continue if you don't want to. I understand." Mary's voice was innocent and kind. The assassin decided.
"I swore revenge. When I fight, I fight to kill; to leave none alive. I was born to kill until I die. The sword is my only friend."
"I would like to be your friend." Mary said eagerly. "I've never had-"
"No. You would not like me or my world. Just," he paused, "stay away." With that, the assassin rose from the bed and limped out, leaving Mary in silence.
"Well, I'm at least going to try."
(Author's Note: Maybe I can win. For some reason, the AI haven't been sending many troops. Right now, the threats are two spearmen, two warriors and one archer. I've got one archer, one warrior, two spear, and one catapult. And I'm building another spear for Paris. It shouldn't be that hard, right? Especially with ivory....)
Imperiously, Pharoahess Cleopatra gazed down at the French leader. Carried by four of her slave servants with no other attendants about her, she appeared to have an aura of power and a way of exacting complete and total loyalty from her subjects. "And you are?", she asked haughtily.
"I am Joan of Arc, leader of the French people. And what do you call your," she paused, "tribe?" The sarcasm in the final word struck the Egyptian queen like an arrow.
Disregarding the insult, she replied, "We are the Egyptians, the most glorious of all nations that roam over the earth."
"I see, four people and an ape constitutes a most glorious nation."
Again ignoring the rude display that the odd French leader was putting on, Cleopatra continued, "And we would like to have an expression of your servitude to our mighty nation. I suggest a trade of ideas. What say you?"
"I would agree."
"Then it is done." Snapping her fingers, a few more servants appeared from nowhere bringing in bags of gold and a corpse and revealing in front of the whole French court how to mummify a person. All were too apalled to stop the frightful display. After it was over, the smell of stomach acid filled the room, overpowering the odors of the embalming fluids. "And now for your part of the deal?"
"I suppose such a frightful display deserves some sort of compensation. Here, take this list of letters."
"Letters?" Cleopatra was both confused and incredulous. What use were symbols?
"Yes, letters. I suppose you'll find a use for them. We," Joan paused for emphasis, "obviously have."
"I demand that you reveal these secrets to me immediately. Do you dare to insult me, Queen Cleopatra, ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt, once again?" The queen's voice rose progressively higher, eventually culminating in a shrieking noise. Calming down, she stated, "I have ignored quite graciously your previous insults, but now your resistance must cease. Do you pledge complete allegiance with me, with Egypt?"
Joan did not even consider the proposal for a moment. Smiling sweetly, she said, "I think you had better leave, Cleopatra, before I remove your head." Drawing a sword, she advanced on the Egyptian. The Egyptians fled. As they departed, a voice was heard to return, "We will not forget this, Joan of Arc."
*****
Monsieur Delinquente was making a routine visit to the new building that Orleans was constructing. He called it a barracks. It was not only a building, but it had an enormous expanse of grounds under its control. The barracks would be the center for training, a perfect place to season veterans even before they had gone into battle. After all, a trained soldier was better than an unprepared one. Chuckling to himself, Monsieur Delinquente wondered if this one building, this one structure, could ensure victory would go to the nation of France.
*****
Louis was in his lab again, tinkering. As a young boy, he had contracted a cold that had bedridden him for weeks with a fever so burning, it seemed that he would have died. But he had survived. As a result, however, his body was so frail that he could no longer go outside, no matter how much he longed to see nature, to see the sun. He was to remain locked up, forevermore. Yet not all was lost, Louis exercised as much as he could so that one day, he would be able to expose his body to the outside world, healthy enough not to get sick again. And today, he had fallen under the depression again that he would never be able to leave his prison home.
His parents were rich, of course, and had supplied him with many healers and even the occasional priest and witch doctor. But they had long since lost hope, simply giving whatever their poor, broken son desired. Louis had quickly formed a passion for inventing, quietly venting out his disgust for the poor lot he had drawn in life.
Today, he was in a particularly destructive mood. His goal was to break down his prison. He cared not what would happen to him. And there he was, chopping wood and placing small boulders in various locations. The contraption he built was surprisingly small. Made mostly of wood, the device seemed to have an iron cup to store boulders. The cup was drawn back by a rope, and when let go, the boulder would fly quite fast into whatever was ahead. And the house fell down.
*****
Archsage Esca brooded over these ideas. Well, they were more questions than ideas, but his students were getting somewhere. Then somebody asked for the purpose of even existing in the first place. Why did the gods simply create people? It could not have been for amusement. No, there was something else....
*****
Monsieur Delinquente looked up. What? Had they really gotten here so fast? The English had occupied the infamous mountain west of Orleans leering and jeering at the French citizens who were hiding in their homes. Delinquente believed in the defenses of Orleans, the solid wall and the spearman defenders would easily overcome whatever was thrown at them. Reinforcements were coming too. And with their new weapon, what was it called again? The catapult. Things would be easy from now on....
*****
A male leader? Joan was quite confused. Men were rash and unable to rule without being calm and rational. Shaking her head, she turned to the Incan leader.
"Heh heh heh. Hello there. Would you like to play with me?" Pachacuti didn't know what had overcome him. Why was he acting like this. He felt a grin creep onto his face.
Joan didn't know quite what to respond. She decided to switch things into a more businesslike tone. "And I suppose that you, like all the rest, want to trade some ideas?"
"Sure, you trade me a precious little idea of yours, and I'll," he winked, "give you a little somethin' somethin'. Heh heh."
"Um yes, then. Let's see. We traded these little things before.... Okay, here are a bunch of letters."
Pachacuti's smile faded. "Letters? What would I want to do with a bunch of symbols? Oh," the Incan grinned again, "is this an invitation for me to teach you some things? We could talk at length about magic or even ride on animals. I could ride on you, if you wanted."
"... and we'll give you a way to fling stuff at people a different way. Then maybe you'll go away." Joan shook her head.
"Nah. I know what I want. And I get what I want. Now." The Incan leader advanced on Joan who drew her sword and promptly hacked off the Incan's hair. Slightly balded, Pachacuti backed away. "I will receive what is due me." His runners quickly picked him up and retreated.
"Pity. You never will."
*****
"Fire at will." Louis felt wonderfully alive. Here he was, finally free from the world that had shut him out for so long. And better yet, he was given command of a few of the catapults that he had built. Louis was always a born leader; his spoiled childhood had assured him that. Luckily, the men under him knew that what he ordered would be best for France, the nation that they were all fighting for.
As the boulders crashed around the mountain ranges randomly, English warriors were knocked down and killed. Added to the fury of arrow waves that were coming towards them, they finally managed to regroup. In a desperate attack, they charged the already advancing archers, only managing to cut a few down, before eventually, getting surrounded and utterly destroyed.
*****
It was heard from far and wide that somehow the Spanish had created a colassal naked bronze man appropriately called the Colossus. Joan knew it was rubbish. The whole concept of building such a statue was worthless to her. Why would Isabella create a giant man in her own capital city? Joan smirked. It was probably to fulfill a quota, which Isabella lacked....
*****
Another Russian advance. Catherine was confident that this time, Paris would be crushed. What she didn't know was that roads were the key to French strength. Travelling quickly on them, the various troop types that Joan commanded could easily overtake and defeat any lone battalion of soldiers.
And Catherine had sent the exact same troops again. A warrior brigade and an archer group. Too bad, Orleans had already recovered. The French had sent their troops back to Paris.
*****
"Lady Joan." Rising, Archsage Esca called for one of his students to rise and greet the queen. His name was Pasteur.
"My lady." Pasteur bowed low.
"Up, you! Archsage Esca, what is the meaning of this?! We are under seige, and you bring me to meet one of your students! I have half a mind to remove your title and send you to your grave."
"Ah no, Lady Joan." The withered man motioned towards Pasteur. "This man has led us towards a brilliant new discovery. With his many incisive questions of why we exist on the world, we have uncovered many secrets."
"Yes, my lady. We now have different ideals through which people can live as well as extensive knowledge of the various gods under the sky that watch down over us and govern our daily lives."
"Hmmm." Joan was still annoyed. "I'm listening...."
(Game terms: I got an SGL for Polytheism, which was free from Philosophy)
*****
Pachacuti knew something was wrong. An arrow whizzed to his feet. Looking up, he saw the forms of many French archers attacking the scouts and attendants around him. He ran. And ran. Only a few of his attendants had survived. But the scouting group was utterly destroyed. Blood was flowing down the volcanic mountains into the gurgling holes.
*****
"I told you I could do it." Pasteur was proud. The monuments were magnificent. They would be perfect for storing the bodies of the people using the mummification methods the Egyptians had outlined so graphically.
Archsage Esca was crying tears of pure joy and wonder at the marvels of science. He knew that upon seeing these pyramids, even Joan would reconsider the value of having national monuments. These were pillars of success, wonders of the world.
*****
"And it is with great regret that you will all have to leave. May your travels bring us triumph." Cheers resounded through the palace halls at these words. Both the settler band and Parisian defenders were off to settle a new town. And in their hearts, they knew, they had to survive.
*****
Guy and Andre were camped in the mountains scouting out the Russian enemies. It mattered not that they were defending a mountain, but rather what was on it. Louis's catapults were firing on the mountains at the Russian invaders who were seeking to pillage their iron imports. What a shame. It had been decided that the group would move to the mountains and fire upon those who approached, one defending the other. The catapults would weaken all who approached and damage those who attacked. The warrior brigade would prevent the capture of the catapults and finish off the weakened. It was simple. Yet it was deadly.
*****
"I was born on the plains of Paris just near what was the border when they came. The Russians killed everyone, leaving none alive. I saw my parents die in cold blood. It was...." The assassin paused as if uncertain. Mary, that was her name, right? Could she be trusted?
"You don't have to continue if you don't want to. I understand." Mary's voice was innocent and kind. The assassin decided.
"I swore revenge. When I fight, I fight to kill; to leave none alive. I was born to kill until I die. The sword is my only friend."
"I would like to be your friend." Mary said eagerly. "I've never had-"
"No. You would not like me or my world. Just," he paused, "stay away." With that, the assassin rose from the bed and limped out, leaving Mary in silence.
"Well, I'm at least going to try."
(Author's Note: Maybe I can win. For some reason, the AI haven't been sending many troops. Right now, the threats are two spearmen, two warriors and one archer. I've got one archer, one warrior, two spear, and one catapult. And I'm building another spear for Paris. It shouldn't be that hard, right? Especially with ivory....)
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Not Sarcastic
I've never heard of that. And I'm quite sure of it. Now, then, who is this Artemis Entreri? I must know. Too bad; I thought of it myself too....
Don't worry about it. keep it up. And heres the Entreri line:
"Motives?" Entreri balked. "I am a fighter- purely a fighter. I do not mix the calling of my life with lies of gentleness and love." He held the saber and dagger out before him. "These are my only friends, and with them-"
"You are nothing," Drizzt cut in. "Your life is a wasted lie."
"Motives?" Entreri balked. "I am a fighter- purely a fighter. I do not mix the calling of my life with lies of gentleness and love." He held the saber and dagger out before him. "These are my only friends, and with them-"
"You are nothing," Drizzt cut in. "Your life is a wasted lie."
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Not Sarcastic
Yup, never heard of it. But maybe it'll make a good read....
