Empire of Rohen

[AntiTwelve]

Faxia Plains, just outside Levythe... 5002 B.C.

Whether it was the fresh winter air that pooled into the room or the frost growing steadily on his face, the Cazatain Lefarge was awoken... and not too pleased either.

He walked, rather in a mid-morning sulk really, out of his Meeting tent, strechted and yawned. Not a very graceful or charming leader to be sure... However, there was something of the countenance of this man that overwhelmed his troops, and overwhelmed his officers, in fact, he overwhelmed anyone who came into contact with his burly face and silver armor.

Lefarge spoke, "BLAAAAaaaa AH... gods in Heaven ....... I, I just don't see his REASONING!" The second in command, Cuzkc Commeron overheard Lefarge's morning ramblings and walked to him.
"Ah, so he is awoke! I trust this cool day air did not disturb his highness (with just a touch of sarcasim)"
Lefarge ignored the remark, and turned towards his tent.
"Get in here you treacherous fiend!" Commeron followed the Cazatain into the tent while saying,
"I have done no wrong, I just thought that your Grace should enjoy some rest. You haven't slept any good amount of hours in abou..."
"HOLD YOUR MOUTH! You know that a Cazatain is regarded as THE MOST diligent soldier in the army, and you've made a mockery of my name by not waking me at my proper time!"
"I assure you... *sigh* It will not happen again." Cazatain Lefarge threw some jesture in respone and continued,
"Now, as a Cazatain of Rohen, I have thought it through thoroughly, and have found a solution to the problem...." The Cuzkc turned his expression into one of excitement.
"Oh very good, we have a plan of attack, eh? About time, I can't stand this wait! Since we got here I hav..."
"Stop!"
"What?" The Cazatain drew his dagger and stabbed the map.
"HERE is where we need to go." The dagger was stabbed in the middle of the map, all cartographers made the same form of amaciated maps in that day, so the Cuzkc did not have to see what it read.
"Go home?"
"Exactly."
"Dear GODS WHAT HAS COME OF YOUR SENSES?! Have you caught FROST BITE IN YOUR UNDERAREAS?! What has POSSESSED YOU!" Cazatain looked up calm, yet with a stern expression and stated.
"This 'battle' is useless, we will win, killing weaklings and staining our souls.' Lefarge looked certain of himself, yet Commeron looked like he was about to spew forth a fervor of ambigitous slurs.
"What joke is this, OUR ORDERS ARE TO ATTACK. WE WILL ATTACK!'"
"I AM IN CHARGE Cuzkc! I have no intention of killing wild beasts, especially not in the off season." Cuzkc could not stand this, he yanked out the dagger and threw it at a nearby vase of the Cazatain's; it shattered instantly.
"How dare you call yourself CAZATAIN OF ROHEN" At this point the Cazatain had already walked outside, probably going to arose the troops to head home.
"WE MUST FIGHT THESE BARBARIAN HORDES, THESE SHADOWS, OR THEY WILL KILL MORE INNOCENT LIVES!"
"AND HOW DO you know that, HMM! Seen the FUTURE? Have become a prophet now? My quarrel is not here, and I know these men will not attack again, they are too afraid..."
Cuzkc grabbed the Cazatain by arm and swung him in the direction of the barbarians. Cuzkc shouted out in the direction of the barbarians.
"Look! See their town, see all the supplies they've taken and food they pillaged!

The Cazatain did not focus on the village, because he was starring at something a little more impending then a village of stolen goods. An army, in its own form of mutilated placement, was marching up a hill towards the Rohen encampment.
Cazatain then said, with a bit of hesitation...
"Perhaps... perhaps this is the way it should be." He closed his eyes, only for a moment, and relished the idea of peace, but soon his eyes opened to show a flame RENEWED! He was ready for battle.

Within twelve minutes the entire encampment of 550 rogues, 600 warriors from the plains, and 1000 spearmen were in combat gear and ready for attack. They lined up at the top of the hil, a perfect place for an archer attack, which they neglected to have any of. The Cazatain came across the right side of the ranks shouting, "This is but a procession of demonic beings, no more than 2,000 and all wearing useless accessories like wooden sticks, slings from dog hide, and rock pikes! Men, you are needed now to end this aggression of the shadows, and so with me, for me, and for the Empire, attack on the SIGNAL!"

The men waited, and watched, as the enemy drew closer. The men were shocked to see young infidels take up a weapon at an age as young as 12 or 13, what I sight to behold in conditions of battle and survival. That feeling of pity soon passed as the Cazatain called the attack and Cuzkc Commeron ran out with his elite attack squad and met the enemy first... and to the battle goes the spoils...

 

[AntiTwelve]

fyi, this was one encounter with a goody hut i had

 

[Jason The King]

Wow, I really like the fantasy-type feature, it sure is different from the rest of the stories.

You are also doing a good job with the dialogue, speaking as if in Middle Ages. Keep it up!

Edit: oh and some pics of your empire would be nice .

Jason

 

[AntiTwelve]

Thanks Jason, I had hoped this type of writing was a bit different from others. I won't put up a pic for awhile since I've taken a few turns already (OK maybe a few is an understatement) and will not post a pic for awhile until the story develops more. I'm hoping it will all come together once I start going again.

 

[AntiTwelve]

A note... I will make a new post FRIDAY night but wanted to say that in an earlier post I said I would write this story in a specific way (leader to scientist to leader to scholar etc...), but Mike and I have thought of something else in comparison. We hope this twist on the story will be just as entertaining and hope it keeps you guys coming back for more

 

[AntiTwelve]

*THMP*

The large manuscript was closed with a sudden agitation, more or less coming from the gentlemen doing the reading. It was an hour until the middle of night, and he was not one to read so late when children should get their needed rest....

Well, it seems we shall finish this story tomorrow little one, think you not?

The gentlemen picked up the book with his left arm and with the other lifted the child and laid him on the silk-white bed, ever so easily.

Really father, such a horrible ending to that story! Why can't they ever portray more inspiring things in such tales?

The boy is tired too, but ment what he said.

My good child, this story IS true, one thousand years of our truth coincide with this book and the books throughout the halls of the palace!

The boy made a sigh, but began growing a snug smile that gave him the cherubic personna of his countenance, no one would suspect he to be the next ruler.

I suppose you are right father, I can not wait until the morrow to find out!
Neither can I dear Levllae, neither can I...

The man tucked in his son and walked down from the lad's chamber, out the door, and down the laborious halls of the palace. He reached a balcony not far from the head chambers where his mistress lay, sound in sleep as though her love were still there in body and mind. The man began...

What times are these, say I to the spirits. I have seen many things... MANY things to which I find have but little answers to inexplicable amounts of questions. As it is, not even my own son can be begin to contemplate what it is that this empire truly is. He thinks it to be the year 363 A.P. [3820 BC] when in fact our history goes beyond such a time for at least a millenia! I do not even know of how long we've existed in these lands, whether God placed us here some 10,000 ages ago or rather we have grown on these land for a little over fifteen centuries. The writings of Lord Saris points to a date in time close to the age of Romulon, the first calendar, which suggests our empire has already passed the age of 1,500 years. *Sigh* to imagine such a thing as that, an empire, one thousand years in the making, not yet reached the change we are so promised to by the gods and passed leaders to this empire. We have learned only of our neighbors, far to the east, west, and south that provide trade and such other commodities that allows the citizens to thrive. The city-state of Lobrek were the first for us to come across, who proudly showed off metals of such quality, the likes of which we have never encountered. Further south belongs to the Sutra, a highly zealous nation, and the Neptolo who respect their own lives rather than others. From these bands of nations we have understood methods that have altered our way of life entirely. The ceremonies we preform are Sutran, but our gods are our own representation to death and what it symbolizes. The pottery we trade is a mixture of Neptolo and Sutra, but have origins of Caen. Ahhh yes, the Caen states. This 'little empire' thrives off trade, while holding key roads and straights that give them the power of corruption in tax and ability to access a merchant's goods with little reason. The Caen mean well, for they provide most of the trade to our new born dove, the city of Rogna, a temple in itself dedicated to the people that live for freedom and prosperity. Rogna is almost 400 years old now, but it is still quite the spectacle to behold each night. To know our lands can cross into such terrirtory as that of savage beasts from years at end, this thought brings happiness to this ruler, who wishes only to know the world he will leave will stay at peace for years to come.

The ruler, Lord Equillbral III, looked upon the city's walls and even under moon light could trace the outlines of the fifty-foot walls, could see the ivory tips and the top of the guard towers, could see the tips of watchers arrows as they strolled the tops of the gates, could even see the many catapults strewn in a fashion as if they were already laying siege on some enemy... already striking with no one attacking. Truly the city of the Gods....

I wish I knew what it was like, those hundreds of years ago, when General Malikae fought off the Crent Suprematory. The Crent, now a scattered people, were once many cities under one leader. The King Crent of Ixis, known to us as the Eastern Coast. This man created an army that should have smashed through the fields and forests, toppling over the hills, and into the homes on many if he had his way. He saw we Roheninites as people who had lived of life of depravity and deceit, which was quite fictitious. Nevertheless his armies were formed, they were marched, and they were camped just outside Rogna (then a barely strong communtiy of neighborhoods and people loyal to their lord). General Malikae, a man whose origins could be from anywhere from the mountains to the taiga of the north wilderness to the plains of Faxis, came to this grand city in efforts to try to establish the army that should crush this foul beast Crent. The Lord Levelln II gave permission for such an act, and within the month an army was formed to match that of the 'Crent Uprising'... Oh how the sight looked, hundreds of men in a fashion of armour- clad death bringers and slaughturers, only to headed be no one lesser then the most noblest of heros... even though it was but a skirmish among many, Malikae would begin the turn of a new era to the People of Rohen, the Second Era of Prosperity... Yet, to live once on that day, that day on the field, that day in the sun and that day which many would forfeit their lives to our future! I can picture it now...

 

[AntiTwelve]

thoughts or comments on how it looks without using civ3 game units

also, I'll post 1-2 a week now, this could end up being a LOOONG story

 

[AntiTwelve]

Third Week of Stand Off, Ixian Plains in the Year 5 of the New Age

Inside the Headquarters of Lojvren Magnus Malikae, Head of the Armies of Rohen

"CAZATAINS AND LAGNAR! To-night we find this to be the day before the inevitable and the day that we shall meet bloody hell!"
The Great Lojvren Magnus Malikae, Leader to His Emporer's forces, shouts to his circle of compatriots and leaders. The men in the chamber, clockwise, go Cazatain Kess, Leader of the 2nd Army, Cazatain Morgent, Leader of the 3rd Army, Cazatain Pargenae, Leader of Assault Cavalry, Lagnar Mesqul, Leader of German 12th Forces from Lobrek, and Lojvren Magnus Malikae, Commander of the 1st Army. "Five bitter years, we've pressed on against maurauders from wretched eastern plains, seeking nothing but collections of blood and heads for their glory. Seeing is how this will be our last night as Brothers in Arms together, whether with victory or defeat, I wish to deeply thank you all for standing to the cause of those who need you, those who can not protect themselves. Lagnar Mesqul, I consider you a brother of Rohen for coming the assistance of our people and your men as children to our Gods for what they are about to do." The burly, brown-bearded, Lobrekan Lagnar exclaimed.
"I know what I've donn is for both our nations, I see only huture fur dis companionship between the peoples of Lobrek cities states and your Rohen Empire."
"Know that you will always be commended as a hero in our lifetime and our future, great Lagnar."
Cazatain Pargenae looked unsettled. He began,
"Gentlemen, can we please discuss the upcoming attack?"
Flately Malikae replied,
"Indeed, I wish to make certain of our placement in battle. Firstly, Cazatain Kess, keep your men on the Left, I think their spears and slingers will try to push through there and head for the base camp. Cazatain Morgent will reinforce your units by keeping his spear army directly in the middle of the field, your men will have the general supply of siege weaponry at your disposal."
Both men raised their hands in fists and placed them over their hearts, echoing each other,
"Hye, Lojvren!"
The two men glanced at each other and lower their hands.
"Cazatain Parganae, keep your cavalry in the forests and wait for the third round of fire arrows to be shot before making your raid. I trust you know what you must do there after?"
"Hye, Sir!" The Cazatain welcomed this move, he knew it would be up to him to bring down the enemies moral and bring glory to Rohen... he lavished in the thought of being a God among men.
The Lojvren Magnus continued,
"Finally you, good sir Lagnar, keep your men at the right, the Crent believe your men to be weak and only carrying short arms and axes, but with what we have supplied you you should press an attack so violent it shall tear through the oppositions army like a scythe through wheat."
"Har! I welcome the blood at the thips of our exes, you have my men at complete disposel."
"My men will be the 1st and 3rd waves, once our 1st wave is down I shall fire the 3rd volley of fire arrows, that and ONLY that will be the signal for our bum rush through their lines. Much like torrents that rip through our heartland, shall we rip through them!"
"HYE!" the circle of warriors shouted in unison. The group then made the sign of victory with their fists and disbanded from the tent. The Lojvren stayed behind, looking at his well developed map of the battle area and what he has suggested to his comrades. He gave a grunt, like something was not all right in the look of the land, and then proceeded to his bed chambers on the other side of the tent.

0945 hours, the Third and Twentieth Day
The Lojvren was stirred by a vigilant shouting from outside his chambers. He arose already dressed in mail of iron and proceeded to dawn his golden armour, provided by the Lord of Rogna. The saw half the army, well over 12,000, already awake and beginning towards the gate of their encampment. He picked up his gem-laiden sword and wrapped up around his waist while muttering, "To hell with organization, just roll the dice and hope you get seven." He knew his army was anxious to win and find peace, but none would be had if he could not lead them. He saddled his horse Fiamae and dashed out of the main camp and headed towards the intersection of the three camps met. He flashed by many men still only partially awake, but still had that somber look upon their faces as though they could not be touched. The gravel trail underneath him shoke and them flew out on all sides as he flew with strength of his steed and his valor. Men on all sides chanted "HYE ROHEN! HYE LOJVREN!" Even the Lobrekans noded and chanted their own words of courage and accord through their foreign tongues. Finally, the Lojvren reached the top of the hill where two of his head Cazatains were already waiting. He gave each a nod of acknowledgement and then walked to the edge, where the battle was waiting to commence. His center forces were beneath him, looking straight up at his face. The Cazatains' forces waited near the middle and left, eager to here the cries of battle. The siege weapons were being brought down hastely by workers and cavalry. Cazatain Parganae waited amongst the hollows, as though he were part of the native land, protected by the palisade of pinetrees. Then the Lobrekans were spotted moving in lines matching that of the Rohen, preparing to hear the words from their Lagnar. The men held their breath as the Lojvren spoke,
"Now we met doom head on! We know no fear or grievance, only honor, valor, and puritry of the soul! Defeat and victory will met us to-day, victory has been met at our hands for many years! It comes in the form and shape of blood, bodies, and fire. Yet, it is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Defeat has been met too, through the shape of blood, bodies, and fire. Yet, this time it is the face of my angry wife that makes me turn defeat into horror for me." The swordsmen and archers laughed in content, knowing that this will be the final stand to ensure such treasured moments with one's family can be kept in peace for years to come. "Now, at all times remember, follow me and to no end, NO END my brothers shall we be pushed off and meet OUR defeat! LET US FACE THE ENEMY AND END THE WAR!!!
HHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH
The armies threw up their swords in agreement and turned toward the battlefield; the enemy now met their gaze. The warriors of Crent began striding down the hillside until they reached the bottom of the gorge, where the waited in utter protest to the prolonging of their battle. No envoys were sent, no messengers had come back bareing information, this battle would decide which army was greater and who would survive history's tribulations. The drums from both armies were heard... the sound was the only thing anyone heard that day...
the anticipation had reached its climax, time stood still...

 

[AntiTwelve]

 

[AntiTwelve]

 

[AntiTwelve]

FIRE THE ARROWS

 

[AntiTwelve]

Horsemen picked up torches and began running down the lines of thousands of archers, igniting their oil-soaked tips and aimed them to the sky. The first volley reached the ranks of the recruits spearmen and slingers with great and violent force. Soon half of the entire army was rushing at the Rohen forces.
"FIRE THE SECOND VOLLEY OF FIRE!"
Once again the arrows were lit and shot, this time only a select few staglers fell, the enemy was too fast but only since they wore too little.
"FIRST WAVE, MARCH!"
Immediatley the first five thousand troops marched mutually as a wall of bronze and spikes towards the quickened opposition. In no time the forces smashed into each other, the collision not even seen since it happened as though it never happened. So many men fought in this seemly straight line after line, it was impossible to tell if anyone was dying. After what seemed to be hours of assault, the lines began to thin out. Suddenly, an array of arrows came down upon the ranks. The Crentian arrowmen were ordered to fire upon their brethering, to show the makeshift guile and tenacity of their Leader's ambition. Soon the men became exhausted and Malikae made the signal to retreat. The men threw down their shields and ran with all their might back to the lines. They fled behind the archers, where fresh supplies wait in supply wagons. The second wave of spears marched in front of the archers as Malikae shouted,
"FIRE THE THIRD VOLLEY OF FIRE!"
The Crent came after their enemies with lust of easy blood, but were met by fire and force and easily blew some back ten or more feet. The whole time the Cazatain Perganae was creeping through the woods in silence with his horde of 5,000 horses and 50 siege weapons. He saw the arrows and eyed it as a child eyes a new toy, it was a gift wrapped in red, orange and yellow flames.
"CHHHHHAARRRGGGGEEEE!!!!!"
Nearly 3,000 horsemen burst out of the woods like birds from countless trees and fell upon the other half of the Crent army, now in disarray. The other 2,000 men flew up the the hill while a chaining of four horses each drew up one of fifty siege weapons to the enemy's camp. They finally reached the fortification, but soon met arrows as they came out of the wood. Many arrowmen on horseback shot down the guards in the towers and held off most of the reserves in the barracks around them. The siege weapons, already equipped with a multitude of stones, were loaded and fired in quick succession. By the 10th rounds of shot, the towers and fallen and the gates collapsed. By this time the first wave of the soldiers of Rohen were gone and half the second wave was deleted. Easily 2,500 horsemen parished under the numbers of the other half of the Crent Army. Yet, the first half was in shambles and the rest of the Rohen Army was already fighting the fierce spears and slings of Crent. Two-thirds of the main army Crent forces were gone, while the other third was fighting off the waves of Rohen and the major reserve forces trampled the horsemen. The battle looked quite grim...

Many of the Lobrekan warriors simply burst through the Crent and kept going through the waves of men until someone stuck out a sword and stopped the berserker. Many warriors successfully broke through the first wave, but all of them met their fate to arrows or spears of the reserves. Soon, however, the archers of the main army reached the bottom of the hill and fired rapid volleys of well aimed arrows at the reserve forces. The Crent has not expected such long shots from their enemy and were easily confused and mislead by what they thought could be done and not be done by the enemy. Like a vice, the arrows began to push in the reserves back into their encampment. The siege weapons were now all destroyed and the rest of the 1,000 or so horsemen all withdrew to destroy the last of the armies fighting the rest of the Rohen. As soon as the majority of the main force fell, a two-hour battering of fire arrows commenced from both sides of the encampment, killing untold amounts on both ends. The horsemen and spears worked in groups to battle through the barracks, tents, and lodging of enemy soldiers to flush out their ranks and find victory.

By the fourth hour after midday, the forces began retreating their base and left the battlefield... the enemy was overcome and did not go far until meeting the rest of the Lobrekan forces and about half the calvary forces from the reserves in the forests. Not one single Crent warrior, not even their Cazatains and Cuzkcs, made it out alive. Soon the camp was burned to the ground, all the bodies of their comrades were left on the battlefield, while their enemies were piled hundreds high in their camp, to show their disgrace in defeat and their place in life, as piles of flesh thrown away as if they were stale bread or old fruit no longer able to sustain life, they were but simple refush now.
The Lojvren Magnus found his Cazatains, amazing all alive, and congratulated them with a handshake and face full of tears. It was not until he came across a gathering of Lobrekan that he saw his comrade, the great Lagnar Mesqul, that he knew of his fate. Death met the man, but with grace and honor of ten to twenty piercings of swords and not by any arrow or shot from sling. The great man's body was cremated and his vestiges spread across the field the by Malikae himself when the army left and headed towards the capital of the Crent, now undefended. Malikae lead his forces onward towards their enemies probable last stand and never once looked back... never once did he find an end or beginning of the en, since he meet blood, bodies, and fire... the symbol his defeat and the symbol of his victory.