The fate of Khmer or The Great War

A story about Khmer civilization and its struggle to win an epic war.
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'No, no, NO! This is absolutely unacceptable!', shouted Loung Galena, migthy ruler of all Khmer. 'Tell your leader Hannibal, that we will not succumb to his empty threats.' 'As you wish, Lord Galena', replied Hasdrubal, Carthagian ambasssador to Khmer. 'But keep in mind that Lord Hannibal is likely to respond heavily to your dismissal of his exiguous wishes.' Siri Galena replied with a snort. 'Escort the embassador out of my chambers and offer him some 'exiguous Khmer hospitality' before expelling him from Khmer. And call in Hjar.'

As Hjar, supreme chief of all Khmer military forces, entered Galena's chambers, hard slapping like flesh on flesh could be heard from down the corridor, followed by a splash, as something the weight of a grown human was dumped into the Mekong River. 'I hope he can swim', muttered Hjar. 'Don't worry about him', answered Galena, 'Rats don't drown. One has to break their neck to make sure they are dead.'

'Hjar, I need you to draw up plans for a fight against Carthage. Hasdrubal, Voice of Hannibal, made heavy threats against Khmer. We need to be prepared.' 'Lord Galena, I do not think we have to be worried. Hannibal is in conflict with Washington at the moment. He will have no troops to spare to go after us.'

Galena leant forwards to examine Hjar, who stood perfectly at attention. 'Don't be so sure about that. Remember, we share borders with both Carthage and America. It would be easy to divert some troops while marching on Chigago.' 'That's very true, my Lord Galena. But keep in mind, we have heavily fortified the Phnum Adral mountain pass. No one...' 'Ha', Galena interrupted, 'manned with what? Obsolete troops, wielding spears and axes. Those were brave against Attila the Hun and his crazy moonies, but not against professional Carthagian soldiers armed with shooting sticks.' 'Guns, Lord Galena, guns. Actually there is already one regiment of riflemen en route to Phnum Adral.' 'Fine. I want you to upgrade our entire military force to those 'guns', as you put it. Tell my lovely wife that you have absolute spending authority over the entire Khmer treasury until the upgrades are complete. '

Hjar gulped nervously. 'Do I really have to talk to her? Don't you remember the time I wanted to buy new axes for our shock troops?`' Galena chuckled and said, 'Very well, you coward. I will put it to her. There is another thing, though. I want my soldier count tripled within 15 years. Given our current state, that should not be too hard, what do you think?' 'Very well, Lord Galena, I will start on it right away.'
Hjar bowed and left, muttering under his breath. 'Ha. Talk to my lovely wife. HA! I would rather charge Carthage armed only with a pointy stick! Clad only in my loincloth! Alone!'

Did you hear it? Did you hear it? We are moving out by first light tomorrow', Krassan shouted excitedly. 'No', grumbled Ursor.
Being a bear of a man, he was the strongest and tallest man in his company of riflemen, but also probably in the whole Kmer military, standing a towering 2.15 metres, when there was enough space. Rumours had it that his father had actually been an American merchant, who visited Yasodharapura, the Khmer capital, about 20 years ago and got 'involved' with a noble at court.

After his birth, Ursor was disposed of at an orphanage, where he had met Krassan, now his very best friend. This one was a special character. He was small and swift as a weasel. He could do the most interesting things with his nimble fingers, from repairing stuff to 'liberating' rich peoples' money. After being caught for the third time he had to face a tough choice: Be sentenced to 5 years of backbreaking labour at the Kracheh stone quarry or join the 3rd Khmer rifleman company. He choose the later, bringing Ursor with him.

Now they where to face their greatest adventure yet: The fight againt Hannibal's troops and the parade to Leptis. Or so they thought. They didn't see the most brutal and bloody war in mankind's history coming. Neither did anybody else.

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Three companies were ready to move out the next morning. It was but a short journey from their barracks at Phnum Adral to the front where Carthagian and American troops had clashed for 5 years now without making any progress.

They passed through a small stretch of jungle, still in Khmer lands. 'Caution, everybody!', their sergeant, Murkmar, shouted. 'We are crossing into hostile environment now. I can already make out Leptis. Tomorrow will be a glorious day for the Khmer empire!'

Suddenly there was a commotion at the back of the train. A messenger appeared, looking like he would collapse every second. 'Sir, sir', he panted. 'I have a message from High Command'. 'Give it to me', Murkmar shouted and grapped an envelope from the messenger, ripping it open.

It read 'Chigago is in danger of falling to the enemy. Turn east immediately and proceed along the shore of Lake Ug towards your new destination. Relief the Americans at all cost.'

'Vishna, no', he mumbled under his breath. Then he shouted out at the top of his lungs 'Everybody, on your places! We are moving to Chigago to relief the American troops there!' Some cheering erupted, but most soldier didn't understand.

'Why help out those infidels? They are worth no more than the muck under my fingernails', one exclaimed. Another remarked, 'Judging by the amount of it, they must be worth a fortune.' Everyboday laughed at that. 'Silence! Save your breath. On to Chigago. Double pace!'

Keep it going, do you have any screenies?

Good idea! Keep it up!

Nice story. my only suggestion would be to add pictures. You could also add more spaces between paragraphs, etc. It is easier to read with visuals and when the writing does not appear to be as much.

'Krassan, mun. Quick!' It was one of the longest sentences Ursor had ever spoken, a clear sign that he was under heavy stress. The attack on the Carthagian troops had gone very well at first. Hemmed in between American troops, the shores of Lake Ug and the advancing Khmer riflemen, it had been like in a slaughterhouse. Superior range and rapid action rifles gave the Khmer another edge over Carthagian longbows and crossbows.

But now, the initial momentum was spent. Now they had to fight against an increasingly desperate enemy, which clung to every yard of space with all their strength.

Suddenly, a strange whistling filled the air as Carthagian trebuchets got into range and opened fire. Huge rocks impacted and mauled men and beasts effortlessly, like a farmer would squash a particulary annoying fly. The Khmer advance faltered completely under this assault.

Murkmar rallied his troops, shouting 'Charge, charge! Everybody to stay down is to be shot. One, two, three, CHARGE.' Yelling at the top of their lungs, everybody jumped to their feet and ran towards the towering machines, firing wildly. 'Hell, those are really big', muttered Krassan.

The man to his left was struck by three bolts at the same time, collapsing to the ground and trampled by his own comrades who had no chance to stop. Orders rang out. 'Shoot the crews, don't fire at the machines!'

Krassan finished of the last of the enemies with quick shots out of his hip and started to climb the nearest trebuchet. Pulling out a flask of lamp oil, he covered the cables and moving parts with the sticky substance, then setting it on fire. With a big 'wosh' it ignited, singing his face and eyebrows.

Quickly, he made his way down while the whole contraption was ablaze. Pouring the rest of the liquid on a rag torn from a Carthagian soldier's cloth, he rolled it around a stone, ignited it and threw it at another trebuchet, which also quickly caught fire. Soon, the machines lay shattered on the ground, their crews either dead or fleeing.

'Victory', grunted Ursor, smacking his friend on the shoulder with enough force to drive the breath out of his lungs. 'Not now', he managed to breathe hard.

The ground started to shake again, but somehow different this time. 'Riders! Prepare a fire line!', ordered Murkmar. Carthagian knights charged into the still unorderly line the Khmer riflemen were trying to set up. Although many were shot right through their heavy bodyarmor at close range, some managed to break the line and started to wreak havoc at the right Khmer flank. One knight in shining armor, bearing the standard of the Barkas, the royal house of Carthage, was at the forefront of the assault.

Krassan aimed carefully at him, pulling the trigger. 'Click!', the bolt worked, but the bullet was a dud. 'Ursor, grab that rock. Do it like back home with this stupid policeman. He said something about your Mama!'

Roaring with anger, Ursor picked up a slab of rock that had broken free from one of the Carthagian missiles and hurtled it with amazing precision, hitting Hasdrubal Barkas right on his helmet. It rang out like a bell, rendering him unconcsiously. As he fell down his horse, he could not control his movements and landed in a bad angle. A dry snap sounded over the battelfield as his neck broke.

The remaining Carthagian Knights panicked and fled. To the last man, they were cut down. Nobody hesitated to shot them in the back. The Age of Chivalry was over for sure.

51, 52, 53, 54... That's it. Messenger!', sergeant Murkmar ordered. 'Take this letter and bring word to Frontline Command at Phnum Adral that we are down to fifty percent of manpower. We need reinforcements and resupply as fast as possible. Now move and pray, do not be caught, you are our last fast runner!'

Hiding in the fields were two Carthagian soldiers. They had fled from the battlefield earlier this day, afraid for their lifes for obvious reasons. 'Watch out, someone is coming our way!', one of them whispered. 'It is a single Khmer, running fast and only armed with a dagger. We will take him down', the other decided.

They jumped out of their cover, completely surprising the Khmer soldier. One Carthagian grabbed his legs, toppling him. The other jumped on his upper body with all his weight. Something deep down cracked. The messenger just sighed and let out his last breath. 'Look, there is a letter.' 'Keep it, I am taking his gold.' 'Don't you realize, this is our ticket to freedom. We can just say that we followed that guy to obtain this message!' 'Nice thinking.'

Khmer reinforcements never came.

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Colonel Suemfara, the Carthagian field commander, reread the message. 'Send word to High Command. We have to attack with everything while the enemy is weak.'

He spat at the two soldiers standing in front of him. 'Now to you. Do you think you can buy my goodwill? Do you think I don't know what you try to pull of? Do you think I am stupid? What?'

'Sir, we just...' 'Sir, let us...' 'Silence, you scum. I despise you. You left your comrades during the battle. They paid with their lifes for your cowardice. You are lower than scum, vermin you are. Take them out and punish them like the traitors they are.'

Some while later two shots rang out in the courtyard below his window.

Hannibal raged. 'No, no, NO! Hasdrubal, what have you done? What have I done? What happened to you? My brother, my dear brother!'

'I will avenge your death. This Khmer scum will pay for your blood a thousand fold. My soldiers will burn their cities, ravage their fields and take their women. No one will be left alive, be it old or young, man or beast. Khmer will fall!'

'Galena will die at my own hands. He will be the last one alive. I will nail him to the cross, I will see him die a long and painful death. My brother, my dear brother, you will be avenged!' After hours, he fell silent, exhausted both physically and emotionally.

General Haradan, leader of all Carthagian front troops, entered.
'Lord Hannibal, oh mighty lion of Carthage. May I approach?'

'What?', Hannibal snapped. 'We just recieved word, my Lord, that the Khmer expeditionary force is weakend. We should attack now!'

'Take everything that is within attack range. Pull our riflemen companies out of training and smash them. Order the trebuchets to attack. Send the longbowmen and all crossbowmen. Rally the knights. Yes, the knights! Take no prisoners. You are personally responsible for that there are no survivors!'

'Yes, Lord Hannibal. It will be done as you command.'

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Krassan slowly awoke to a bright light and a soft swaying motion. His body was aflame in pain. He fainted again.

'He will make it. The big one probably too. About the second one he carried here, I am not sure.' Again he fainted.

The next time Krassan woke up, his head was clear and the pain subsided to only a nagging in the back of his brain. He was not sure where he was, but definitely he was not dead.

Suddenly, it all came back to him. Rocks the size of carriages falling out of the sky, smashing bodies like a child in rage may break its toys. Trumpets sounding as knights charged, their lances driving through defenseless bodies, their swords hacking at everything moving. Arrows and bolts raining out of the sky, piercing skin and flesh, puncturing lungs, soldiers drowning in their own blood. Sergeant Murmark in desperate battle against two riflemen, a bayonet sunk into his chest. Volleys of lead balls ripping through his friends. Friends!

'Ursor! Ursor, oh no!' 'Alive...', someone muttered weakly. Turning around, he saw the hulking frame of his friend lying in two beds pushed together. 'Thank Allah, you are alive! What would I do without you!', Krassan sputtered.

A doctor entered. 'You are very lucky indeed, soldiers', he said. 'Only three came back.'

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In Carthage, a new cross was being erected at Golgotha Hill. The newly promoted General Suemfara began to draw up battle plans.

Thank you for following so far. The first story arc 'Only three came back' is finished now. Please tell me what you think!
Thank you for your feedback, too. It is most appreciated. There will be screenies soon, when the story catches up with the game.
Next time on 'The fate of Khmer': 'Aftershocks'. What kind of impact does this bloody battle have on Khmer, Carthage and the rest of the world?
Now, please excuse me. I still have a job to do.

Enjoying it! Looking forward to the next chapter!

Yay! Khmer! (I like playing as Khmer.)

I'd like to see some screenshots (if you have any), but other than that, awesome!

Thanks for reading and enjoying my story! Hopefully I will post at least part of another chapter tonight.
@ T_F: Screenies will be posted soon, when the story catches up with the game.

Fanfares resounded and thousands of people cheered and whistled as Lord Galena, newly appointed president of Khmer, entered the stage. 'I decorate you, staff sergeants Krassan, Ursor and Hartad, with the Order of the Golden Tusk, First Class, for most distinguished services for the Khmer Empire while facing the enemy. I also assign each of you the Red Pearl for recieving grievous injuries while serving Khmer. Step forward now to pick up your decorations.'

Krassan and Ursor, still wearing a cast around his head, saluted smartly in front of Loung Galena, then shoke hands with him. The crowd went made, shouting and jumping up and down, waving flags of Khmer, praising their heroes.

'Lord Galena, Hartad is still in hospital. I will make sure he receives his commendations', Hjar explained. 'Very well. Please excuse me now, I have a lot of work on my desk. The war is still continuing. Hjar, to my chambers!' They left the stage in front of the palace and headed back inside.

In the front row, a pimple faced youth talked to his father. 'Dad, that was just a typical political staging. Oh, how I despise that.' 'All the world's a stage, my son. You see: All the men and women are barely players. They have their exits and their entrances and each man in his time plays his part.' 'That is an interesting thought, Dad, but I guess you will have to work on that one.' 'I guess so, Bill!', sighed Frank, owner of the Globe Theatre in Yasodharapura.

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In Nagara Jayasri, the beautiful mountain city in the west of the Khmer empire, Master Meng Zi spoke to his parish. 'All have heard about what happened near the American city of Chigago. Many thousand Khmer, Carthagians and Americans have been killed or worse, crippled in battle. Today I want to ask you, is it right to kill in outrage? Is it right to kill in self defense?'

'To answer these questions, we will have to look at two of the virtues our Master left us: Humanity or modesty and the Golden Rule: Not to inflict on another being what one does not want inflicted on himself.'

'When gathering, farming or hunting for food, you do it in a clear state of mind. You thank the trees for their fruits, you don't hack them down. You praise the ground for its labour, you don't burn the fields. You may slaughter the pig, but you do not kill for fun or in rage. So you have fulfilled the virtue of modesty.'

'On the field of battle, you try to kill the enemy. So he tries to inflict damage on you, too. There is no way around it. And you do not act in self defense while attacking another country! You don't keep to the virtue of Humanity while trying to kill another human being. And you break the Golden Rule.'

'So it is wrong to kill in rage and hurt other beings while enraged. I plead you all, sons and daugthers: Do not support this war. Do not go out on the field of battle. Do not kill. Be human. He who kills in rage losses his humanity.'

After the service was over, many people spoke out. 'Master, I think you are right.' 'There is no point in supporting this war. ', another said. 'Stop this pointless fighting!', a third one called out. Many more voiced their concerns about the conflict.

The authorities did not listen. No yet. Their voice had to grow stronger still.

Does anybody still read this story? Anyway, there comes another part!

n a small and dark alley in Angkor Thon a purse changed hands. 'You know what to do?', a low voice asked. 'Of course', answered Imam Abd ar-Rahman ibn Chaldun. 'It is my duty to support your cause. Rest assured that your goals will be met. Thank you for your donation.'

The next morning, Chaldun was preaching in the biggest mosque in town. 'Followers of the faith. Right now, our brothers are dying on the battlefield, fighting for you against the infidels, the heathens of Carthage. Why are you still here? Why do I have to tell you what is your religious duty? Mere words did not help to sway them, now you have to go out and bring them to the faith by all means necessary!'

'How you, a single person, can achieve that, you ask? How can you help serve the cause? The answer is easy. Enlist today. Join the army. Right now, they are putting together a new and powerful unit, called Infantry. You can serve there and help to put down the infidels. Fulfill your duty now! Paradise awaits the ones to die in battle for the prophet. Seven virgins and riches beyond your wildest dreams will be your reward. Join the cause now! Fight, brave followers of the faith. Fight the Holy War!'

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In the capital city of Yasodharapura, Lord Loung Galena talked to Hjar, supreme commander of all Khmer forces. 'How did you pull this off? We are two years ahead of schedule, for Vishna's sake!'

'No-one will fight for a half-pence a day, or let themselves be killed over a stretch of stinking jungle, Lord Galena. You have to speak to their soul, in order to rally them!'

'I see. So you went along the religious lines?' 'No and yes, Lord Galena. It wasn't me. I just greased the machinery already in motion. It is wonderful what a purse full of coins can accomplish.' 'I am sure my lovely wife will understand this as well. Thank you. You are dismissed.' Suddenly starting to sweat profoundly, Hjar bowed and left the chambers in a hurry.

After he had left, a beautiful voice whispered, 'Do you always have to be mean to him? I am actually the sweetest person alive.' 'I know that, my dear. But it keeps him on his toes.'

Anything else comming? I'm enjoying this story. Although this second part seems to be setting up the back story, I'd love to see the outcome of this.