Iron Hearts

This shall not be based on any real game or save, as I do not have access to Civ on this pc.

Also, be patient; the story starts out pretty bad. But it gets better!

SPOILERS AHEAD!


I.I Bearlhün, the Bear

The Ruler of Germany. A chaotic and embittered spirit, he lives with his ijnstincts, causing havoc wherever he goes. After the Great Exile began, he entered the Japanese temple of Miyamoto and began training. His randomness has begun making way for a scheming, cold misanthropy. He also lost his famous sword, Entropia, as he was cast out. After losing control over himself, he raided his way through Japan, culminating in the great assault on the Palace, where the Last Emperor, a human he considered worthless, was slain in his hands.

I.II The Saint of Orleans, Joan d'Arc

A hypocrite she-warrior who Rules over France. After a failed assault on Germany halted manily by Wullam, she and her army retreated. Not standing this disgrace, Joan declared war on Japan, eliminating Hirohito after a successful raid on the capital. Because of this action, the Time of Troubles began, and all the world allied to battle her. During the siege of Paris, she was assassinated by Wulf.

I.III Elizabeth, Queen of the English

The power-hungry ruler of England. She was assassinated by Wulf during the early ages of the world, to revenge an unfortunate incident where she took control of a German serf band. After healing, she sent her Followers to attack the German ones, especially Wulf. She later calmed downed and granted Germany access to horses, and an attack force that would have been key should Wulf have failed in the assassination of Joan.

I.IV Hirohito, the Eagle

The Japanese emperor. An honourable regent who set a new standard of honour and weapons skill in the eastern reaches of the world. Slain by Joan.


II.I Germany

II.I.I Weimar

A cunning strategist, although driven by arrogance and the seeking of power. After leading several successful attacks against France, he became renowned as a major force in the military field. Tried to rebel against Bearlhün, but he and his Hundredfold, his elite guards, were slain, and Weimar was horribly burned by Bearlhün. He has the imprint of a paw on his face. Disappeared after the Second Exile.

II.I.II Wulf

A cold-blooded killer and assassin, Wulf is a master of disguises and other forms of death. His merits include the deaths of Joan and Elizabeth. Whereabouts are unknown after the Second Exile.

II.I.III Wullam

A fanatic bear-priest whose true loyalty actually belies with the Elder Gods. Fights with his signature paws, a pair of metal gauntlets with spikes attached to the fingertips. Received wide renown for single-handedly eviscerating the French headquarters during the attempted invasion of Germany. Begun the Second Exile by leaving Germany in a fit of fury over the methods of the other Immortals. Guided by the Elders, he returned to Germany and is now the head of the Bear-Church.

II.II Greece

II.II.I Igius

A respected diplomat and intellectual, he has acted as Wulf's mentor and is considered a great boon to the German cause. His whereabouts are unknown after the Second Exile.


III.I Germany

A nation of stalwart and hardy folk, renowned for their great stamina and love of hardships. It is believed this characteristic represents the persistence of Bearlhün.

III.II Japan

The Japanese are honourable and refined, but recently they have shifted from theocracy to a republic, due to Bearlhüns rampage.

III.III Rome

The Romans are imperialistic and commercial. They were once a great power, but now they have begun warring Japan and Germany, attempting to avoid their fall.


IV.I Shinsei Kuma

A Japanese eremite and master swordsman, trained over the course of many years at Miyamoto Temple. Later it became known he was truly an incarnation of Bearlhün, and he set off across Japan, killing many. During this period of violence, his victims include a lich, two Immortals (One posted at a border station, one at the Imperial Palace) and the Last Emperor.

CHAPTER I: A BITTER LIFE

The winter had always been harsh. The blizzard, that remnant of the ages of ice and snow, rolled on; trees dying in it's path, life extinguished; mighty rocks worn down by the few rocks the wind could grab - nothing could stand in it's way. These valleys beneath the crystalline sky were the home of people so unlike the world.. Their features like chiselled marble, their skin white and blue from the arctic blasts, their crude shapes gathered closely around burning wood, these were the ancestors, the life-givers, those who were and always shall be, our forefathers, their heritage small, but growing; those, whose children were to conquer the sphere of stone they lived on.. They were desperate in their futile attempt to cling to life. So much they never saw, never heard, never knew, so little wisdom they shared.. Surely they would be shunned in our day, shunned in all days after.. But they only wished to survive. That primal instict drove them; drove them towards a cruel and bitter end.. The end of their lives would not be the end of that around them - that was a privilege their children shared.

Among those cold, deep-frozen hills and plains, lived a small tribe, sheltered in a twisted cave, emptied by a great mountain of fire bursting through the narrow passages below. They were like their brethren, fighting their entire life to keep on fighting for their life, a vicious circle enveloping itself, eternally forcing them to live. But a man there, Bearlhün was his name, rose above the others. Physically, he was a giant, even for those times; standing head and shoulders above the others. He was strongly built, with a mind of a warrior. He led the small group during their hunt, as they searched the lands for prey - cold during the winter, hot during the summer, their task was not an easy one.

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"Not good thought."

Krell murmured to himself, while glancing upwards at Bearlhün's bearded shaggy face. He had had the audacity to propose to Bearlhün that hunts should be made longer and more widespread.

"Krell not good thought! Long hunt-time bad. Hot times do food bad, cold times do food hard." Bearlhün's voice was gravelly. The blizzard winds had made him ill, and he had trouble speaking.

"Baerlhün not thought! Long hunt less sick!" Krell said, drooling in rage.

Baerlhün hit Krell, who promptly sank down against the cave wall.

"Long hunt, hot times and cold times stop friends! Many friends stopped.. No more stop!"

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Be wary, the story shall continue soon!



Chapter II: A Code of Honour

The cold winds of aeons past were no more. Even at winter, there was not much to fear for these "new" people, the sons of the Survivors. The great forefathers of so long ago passed on the will to live, but Nature relented. Among the nomads, the tribe which had been Bearlhün's was becoming more and more prosperous. Bearlhün's direct descendants ruled with force, and Bearlhün's ways of thought had been seeded in the tribesmen's mind. There were a chosen few, the hunters, still maintaining their elite status, who lived by certain rules. By their actions, their words, they stood above all common. They were greatly respected, and their protector - and kinsman - was the chief himself.

But now, one of the chieftains, one named Wolfgar, proposed a strange new idea.

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"Brothers! We know of many who stay in one place, choosing to master the nature around them. I propose, that we shall become the grandest of these tribes! We shall rise above all others, we shall dominate these mountains and fields where the Fore-fathers Wind drove out all life! We shall forever be known as the strongest! Those.. Who have Bearlhün's thoughts in their bodies!"

The leaders of the children of Bearlhün, the eldest hunters, stood circled around the campfire and heard Wolfgar's words. Many of them nodded appreciatively, knowing that the strongest tribes were those who settled. However, a few seemed unimpressed, and the one who acted as their leader stepped forard.

"I oppose your foolish thought. Why should the traditions of Bearlhün be forgotten?!"

Friedrik, a short, squat man, looked furiously at Wolfgar, although frightened of looking him straight in the eye.

"Our ways have been the same since the Cold battled our fathers of so long ago! Since Bearlhün himself walked these lands!"

"Our ways shall always be Bearlhüns. Remember! Bearlhün and his family lived in a cave! Settled! Now, be quiet!"

Friedrik spit on the ground, bitter as he was. He had been one of the best hunters in his youth, now barely able to walk.

"Are you forgetting who learned the ways of the bronze?!"

Wolfgar did not reply instantly, but looked at Friedrik, his gaze unfocused. Suddenly, he growled at the old man.

"I am a son of Bearlhün! I am one of the Honorable! I give you honour! But your mind is old and foolish! We shall settle!"

Interesting.

I write "interestingly" I guess it's my fantasy background shining through.

A note before continuing: This does not follow Civ rules. It'll be slightly unrealistic -no magic or anything, I guess, but still not completely natural.

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Chapter III: Symbols

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The dawn rose lazily over the settlement. The great ball of fire, worshipped by the people of the town, spread its glowing shade of gold inch by inch through the roads and alleyways of the primitive collective. Slowly, slowly, it reached what one might call the town centre - a crude wooden altar in the middle of an opening, formed by a circle of lodgings. Standing in front of the altar, Wullam opened his mouth slowly, twisting it into a toothy smile, and muttered slowly, with a voice filled with the wisdom age had granted him.

"I greet you, Sun, you who give my people what they need.. Warm the houses, tend the plants that give us our food, take away the shadows that hide the beasts.. In our village, you, Sun, are always welcome. Our hunters have taken many animals to be given you.. A strange creature, it is, found in the southern hills, it is.. White and soft, like the caress of a loved one. It shall make a good gift."

Wullam circled the altar, so that he may face the sun and the sacrifice. Slowly, he produced a bronze dagger, with a shaft made of bone from some old sacrifice. He raised it above the lamb, hands trembling. The sun flashed in his eyes, temporarily blinding him with its splendor. As he spoke again, it was clearly, with renewed strength and respect for that star that gave them their life.

"This dagger, your dagger, was made from the same bronze which our father, Bearlhün, so long ago discovered. The same one used for the hunter's spears, dedicated to your glory, for it reflects your splendor, and in your presence strengthens the bear-like heart. The bear, symbol of our Fore-Fathers, those who were the first, those who taught the ways of the Hunter. This dagger has been purified in many of your sacrifices, and shall now, for the first time, taste the blood of what we have come to call.. Sheep. For the Sun!"

Wullam brought the dagger down and performed the sacrifice, as the gathering people fell to their knees amidst shouts of "The Sun!" and "The Bear!". They bowed, on their knees, and thanked the Sun for what it gave them. As the sacrifice was finished, they formed a line, all taking some of the lamb's blood on their fingertips and drawing a circle on their forehead.

Good stuff. Keep it up!

Chapter IV: Wondrous Woodcutting

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The great pine creaked as Vadonnar's axe deftly chopped and cut its way through the old tree trunk. He cursed as the axe got stuck, but managed to loosen it with a little effort. Spitting in his hands, he perfected his grip, and swung the axe violently. The old tree creaked once more as it slowly began it's fall towards the ground, time seeming to slow down as the great oak was reduced to a log. With a thunderous boom, the tree touched down. Vadonnar flickered a satisfied smile as he clapped his hands together and went to fetch his meal.

He then proceeded to notice his meat ration protrude from under the tree.

Cursing, he sat down to think. He wouldn't be able to lift the tree, and the chances of acquiring his food were quite slim as long as the fifty-foot tree was positioned on top of it. He would have to find some way to move it. He couldn't lift it.. Would he be able to push it?

Vadonnar stood up, gazed at the tree, and muttered "Fathers, be with me!" as he realized that the branches effectively stopped him from pushing it. Sighing and grabbing his axe, he headed for the tree top, starting to chop off the offending limbs.

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The sun was almost setting as Vadonnar pulled the last branch from under the tree. Assuming a wide stance, he placed his hands on the tree, inhaled the tree's scent, and pushed with all his might.

It moved quite easily, rolling some feet before Vadonnar stopped pushing. He looked mournfully at the food; there'd be no saving his poor belly before he made it back to the town. Then, he began to think, again. Why had the tree moved so easily? Because it looked the same from all directions? Yes, he mused, that must mean it turns over all the time, much easier than if something that does not look similar from all directions would be moved. Vadonnar decided he would present his idea to the Chieftain and the Hunters tonight.

Looking up, he began uttering a series of curses and pleas to the Bear and the Fore-Fathers as he noticed the log was heading downhill.

well the title kinda threw me off but i guess this isnt a collection of chatter and squeaks!

...and the log bounces madly, crashes into the meeting hall, and squishes the council of elders, who had just discovered iron working...

The "chatter and squeaks" part meant that this is just a collection of ramblings! But I really don't know what I was thinking when I added the subtitle, which I can't remove. Can a mod?

Also, Iggy's choice of continuation has been honoured!


"No kidding?"

Wolfgann wiped the sweat off his brows and continued digging. His friend, Heinrich, placed crudely chopped stones in the places where the dirt had been shoveled away. The sun was swelteringly hot, and most of the men had paused for a nap under the shadows of the nearby forest.

"Yeah, they say this new ore is much stronger than the bronze of Bearlhün. I'm not sure I believe it, though; As far as I believe, only the stones of the Blizzard Dales can withstand the bronze's fury."

"Well, that iron mountain's where this road is headed." Wolfgann pointed at the Iron Cliffs up ahead, mere miles away now. "To tell you the truth, I think it's a waste of time, but the Hunters have ordered us, so.."

"Quit yer whinin' and keep up!"

The foreman strode up to them, wearing his casual smirk and holding a short leather whip in his right hand.

"Jes' because the others can rest, doesn't mean ye can! Now hurry up!"

Wolfgann sighed. Seems like this was going to be a long day.

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The men were sitting around a bonfire, laughing and eating after a hard day's work. There was no moon this night, and the stars had disappeared from the German sky.

"So, then, as they stand there, gaping as the iron dagger cuts through his bronze shield.."

"What?" "What happened?" "Go on!"

The story-teller was now in tears of laughter, rocking back and forth in noisy mirth.

"..A log comes rumbling down the hill.." The speaker was giggling in a high-pitched voice, other catching on and laughing with him. "..And BOOM! It smashes through the wall.. And rolls over the temple garden..All the flowers get crushed.." The man tried to settle down, with little success. "..And into the main temple! From what I heard all the priests almost crapped themselves! Imagine!" The speaker paused, and waited for the laughter to die out. "The Hunters, though, didn't even flinch. Elder Joachim and the others went to the smashed wall, and waited. There comes, bumbling as he goes, this huge woodcutter, carrying his axe, and says..'Is everybody alright! Good! Y'see, it all started when I forgot my lunch under a tree trunk..'.."

The camp did not settle down before ten minutes of wild laughter had passed.

t3h story continues! Chapter V is still going strong, let's hope I start getting replies Now, I shall pay homage! Kind of..

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Wolfgann yawned as he rose up and stretched his arms. It was late at night, and the howling of wolves kept him from sleeping. He ran his fingers through his unkempt hair, and strolled to the edge of their primitive tent-camp.

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Jack smiled as he saw the German buffoon walk out of the safety of the camp. Muttering to himself about recklessness, he placed the arrow on the bow, slowly rose from the ground to a standing position, aimed, and let the arrow fly. In the fraction of a second, the sharpened stick that served as the archer's projectile of choice, bore into the German serf's chest. Wolfgann looked down in amazement, groaned, and fell limply to the ground.

Jack, satisfied, waved his hand in a large arc, before loading his bow and moving further away from the encampment. His archers had gathered around a great oak tree near a small river.

"Is everybody here, and ready?"

"Yes, Jack, we're ready. Are we taking that worker camp?"

"Yes.. A little extra workforce won't hurt our cause." The archer's sergeant laughed sardonically, but was interrupted by a shout from the direction of the camp. Somebody was shouting warnings to the people in the camp..

"That bloody serf! He got an arrow in the chest! How can he still live?" Jack, who was already heading for the encampment, waved the archers to follow him. "We're going to have to take the camp now, instead of getting in positions first!"

The archers had broken into a jog while loading their arrows, stopping whenever they fired a volley into the camp. Reaching the gate after the third volley, they all loaded their bows and ran into the camp, Jack at the lead.

The shovel flying through the air and smashing his nose as he stepped through the entrance was certainly a surprise. The pain overpowered him as he fell down, trying to avoid hitting the ground while motioning frantically to get the archers to continue the attack. As they rushed past, Jack failed to notice the mysterious shovel coming at him again, crushing his right cheek and sending him into unconsciousness.

@ Hunter: Thanks for renaming! Now I can continue the thread without shame.. Of course, eyewitnesses have to be removed.

And still, Chapter V continues.. three updates in one day! Whew!

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Heinrich was losing his breath running along the road he and Wolfgann had been constructing with the others. Wolfgann.. The attackers had shot down a great deal of workers and enslaved the rest. Heinrich wiped his eyes and looked to his right side. A few other escapees were running alongside with him, towards the safety of Berlin. Berlin, the city named after Bearlhün, the Fore-Father revered by all germans. It was a growing city, expanding rapidly; many small towns had been founded at the outskirts of it's territory. Many nearby tribes had joined Germany, melted into it. Soon, Germany would grow across these plains!

There was a sharp sound of breaking twig as an arrow hit the cobbled road. The man to Heinrich's right jumpped with ease over the madly bouncing pieces of wood.

"Damnation! Who are these lowly fools who attack us? We put up a fight, I say! But it wasn't enough against these unhonourable barbarians!" The man spat bitterly, before continuing his raving. "The Hunters will surely be angered by their use of the sacred bow as their weapon.. They will be PUNISHED! We must meet the Hunters as soon as we get there!"

The men, ten escapees from a force of three hundred, ran on.

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"This is grave news." Master Wulf, the leader of the Bear-priests, sighed and looked Heinrich in the eye. "They used the bow, you say? We must confere about this. You and your companions are welcome to use the facilities of the palace. I will speak to you again at noon."

The Sun was rising.

Wulf smiled as he walked into the small, ornately decorated room. He raised his voice and called: "Wullam!" The shout echoed in the walls for a few seconds before finally dying out. Wulf sat down on a chair near the entrance, picking up a goblet of wine. He sipped it and mused to himself a bit about progress. This "wine" was made from fresh grapes, discovered just outside Berlin. Perhaps this would make a fine business.

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Wullam stepped into the conference hall, and saw Wulf sit in his chair, looking at him intently. Wulf slowly stood up and brushed the dirt off his arms.

"Those English people our scouts discovered are certainly troubling our lives. They tried to enslave the group of workers assigned to bring in the iron, but failed. Ten survivors returned to tell the tale.. Many dead, and almost two hundred enslaved."

"Damnit! So, now they have their extra working force. I think it's time to alert Friedrik of the situation, and have him prepare the assault."

"We won't be able to do much, yet."

Wullam snickered. "Maybe Bearlhün, or even the Fore-Fathers will aid us. I wonder what they'd do if they knew?" The men laughed, and begun plotting on the exaction of revenge.

Yay, fourth update today Indeed, 'tis prosperous.


Wulf smiled as he crested the mountainside, arriving at the steep. Beneath, shrouded by the cliffs, the sun rising behind Wulf's back, lay Dover. He sat down to ponder, watching the city's bustle intently.

The Elders had chosen him to carry out the task. Why? He had no idea. But he was certain it would be difficult, and dangerous.

Wulf stood up again, abruptly, and began climbing down along the narrow path. He would have to fulfill his job, no matter what the cost.

Muttering, Wulf pulled out the star-shaped iron shards from his pocket, and grinned. They were certainly an interesting weapon.


Wulf stopped the aristocratic-looking man, and asked him in the language of the english what was going on.

"Good day, friend! Ah, what's going on, you ask? It's simple! The queen Elizabeth, herself, shall be visiting our little Dover today! She shall lead a navy of the newly created vessels.. I suppose they're meant for transport, but these.. galleys, I think they're called.. Are also useful for military operations!"

"How come, my good man?"

"A few galleys, load 'em with military, and you have a great attack force!"

"I see. Thank you for the information. At what time do these wondrous galleys arrive?"

"At high noon. Farewell, friend!"

Wulf couldn't help but smirk. The old man had provided too much information, too much for the good of the English "empire".


To be successful in various operations, one needs to be indistinguishable.For this purpose, Wulf wandered to the nearest clothes shop, and purchased a stately-looking mantle not too different from German ones. Nodding in a friendly way at the woman running the store, he left and headed for the seedier districts of town.

He would need equipment.


The old shopkeeper wheezed as he handed over the heavy box of supplies.

"Everything I asked for is here?"

"Yes.. cough.. All. That'll be sixteen pounds."

Wulf opened his mouth to object, but stopped as a shout carried over the alleyway.

"Cleanse the distrcit! All criminals must be gone! Her Highness would faint, should she see even one of these hoodlums!"

Cursing, Wulf quickly stole into another, crossing alleyway. He climbed the improvised ladder onto the roof, and skipped over thatched huts and twisting streets towards the docks.


"It is with great pride.. I give you.. The Royal Hawk!" The queen cut the woollen band in front of the broad, thick plank leading up to the ship, and listened, pleased, as the clowd went wild. She did not notice Wulf swim around, nor the box of axes he was carrying.

Wulf had taken his time after the fleet's arrival to damage the ships. Gaping holes just above the waterlines of the unloaded ships, smashed rudders.. He thought his sabotage would slow down the English. Now, he thought grimly, time for the final act..


"These ships will serve as a reminder! A mark! A sign, that we stand above! No German, no French, no Spanish, no Dutch! Just our superiority!"

The gathered nobles cheered for their queen, unknowing of Wulf, disguised as a seaman, standing on a quay behind Elizabeth. They did not notice him raising his hand, not the star-shaped iron flying from his hand, not the guards attmpt to kill him, not his dive into the water, not his escape.. All they could see was their royal Queen's throat, shred in two by a flying star. All they could hear was the shout "Germany!".

Absolutely no comments.. Anybody, please post something, even if it's flaming.. I'd really like to know whether to continue or not.

You really should continue. I like your story. It's getting better and better. Lizzy's dead, war's a coming.

Thanks, Iggy


Ichon Ci was lost.

He had written much and traveled far, and now he had arrived in Berlin. His summary of the world's riches was, in his opinion, exact to the last pound and yen, except for Germany.

Ci had tried for hours to find the Palace in Berlin, to inquire of the state of the treasury, so he may compare and assess the state of the world. However, the task was proving difficult. He had been shown that the imperial palace - he scoffed at the way the locals hallowed their palace to a bear - was located on top of a plateau, in the middle of the city. However, there was no road visible.

"Excuse me, herr, but could you help me?" Ci was speaking in the uncultured German language, trying to appear jovial.

"Yes, what is it?"

"I can't find the way to the palace. Could you help me?"

"Are you a foreigner to these lands?" The German man seemed quite neutral, but Ci noted that the question was rhetorical. Ci's face and build were easily identified as Japanese. "The road does not exist. When striving for his goals, a man must suffer and tire, before reaching the summit of his life."

"I have to climb?"

"Yes indeed, stranger." The German flickered a kindly smile. "It is our test of perserverance. Only those who prove themselves are allowed into the palace."

Ci sighed, thanked the German and turned away. He wasn't fit for such a climb. The Emperor would not be pleased with rough estimates, either. Ci spun on his heels and willed himself to walk towards the plateau. A descendant of the Gods musn't be failed.

Note:
I'm currently doing some tributes here and there.. Vigilant readers will notice a few familiar names spread around.

Great. Keep it comin'.

And... thanks I'm honored.

Thanks Had almost given up on the story.. Update tomorrow, I guess, lots to do today.

I'm looking forward to it.

Alrighty! A three-month vacation DOES freshen you up Anyway, after pondering a while, I decided this story will probably continue in a fantasy-ish vein. No agendas or anything, but I can't see any good ways to explain the agelessness of the heads of state.


The encloaked man had seen and heard what had happened on the street, and saw Ichon stride reluctantly towards the cliff. The man's coal-black eyes burnt with disgust as the outlander began searching for footholds. He turned to his disciples, behind him.

"Wulf! This.. Japanese.. Is he an official of any kind?"

"Yes.." Wulf stepped forward from the half-circle the others had formed. "I believe he will attempt to gain your trust by giving you a monetary gift, and himself as a servant."

The disguised man snorted. "It is an insult to the people, my people, that someone underestimates us like this!" He moved his cloak aside with one hand and unsheathed the thin blade he was carrying. "I will slay him personally.."

The Japanese ambassador had just pulled himself over the edge when the mysterious leader strode up to him and grabbed his hair, pulling him further onto the cliff. Ichon shouted in surprise, but was quieted when a well-aimed swing cut his head off.

"Well, well.. What a headless ambassador!" Wulfgann pointed out to gleeful laughter, and even the master felt inclined to grin. His excitement was soothed quickly, as he noticed that the corpse did not bleed. Cursing, he threw the head over the opposite cliff edge and into the sea - no small feat for him, but overpowering to almost all men. The shocked disciples stopped laughing and looked at their lord with a mixture of fear and apprehension.

"A Follower! Wulf, increase your spies around the Japanese areas. Weimar!"

A tall, muscular man in chain armor snapped into attention.

"Order the military to train harder, and keep greater watch!"

Weimar nodded, and seemed relaxed. As the Disciples were beginning to disassemble, the chaotic master of this collection looked intently at a robed priest standing to his right.

"Wullam..It seems a human grants me even further power than mere deer. I require seven humans at every festive time!"

To any other men, the cloak-wearing man's cold, sneering laugh would have been horror-inspiring. To his disciples, his Followers, Bearlhün's chaotic madness was a promise of fortune, might.. and death.