JalNES I: Quick and Easy
- Thread starter jalapeno_dude
- Start date
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
I demand a tribute for Carthage in the Hall of Dead Nations that you will be adding. 
jalapeno_dude
AKA Panda Judo Eel
Some orders in. Deadline moved back 24 hours...
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
OOC: Hmm... I guess I shouldn't work so hard on getting my orders in tonight then 
Not to be overly optimistic, but jal, are you aquainted with a specific ancient chinese strategy I will be PMing you about?
Not to be overly optimistic, but jal, are you aquainted with a specific ancient chinese strategy I will be PMing you about?
~Darkening~
Weep, Mother.
*
Due to the crash of my laptop, I'm having to write this in here. Expect a thousand spelling mistakes.
Story Here
Due to the crash of my laptop, I'm having to write this in here. Expect a thousand spelling mistakes.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Oh my. I completely forgot; was writing some Nanowrimo last night. I'll get them in ASAP.
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
I fear my orders will be sent around 10 your time jal at latest 
How could you forget? Denial maybe.North King said:
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
Orders coming soon 
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Denial? No, I do not think so. Orders extremely soon.Birdjaguar said:
The college search has taken to much of my time, more than I expected. I can't find myself any time to dedicate to this NES. Sorry, but Asia doesn't quite need the Imperial Japanese army quite yet. Maybe when things have calmed down some...
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
Orders sent.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
My life has been a long one, and I grow old as I watch the shadows pass. An empire in disarray greets me every morning as I wake: an empire which is falling. It is not a new sight. The free lands of the Sea Peoples are an endangered commodity. We who one prowled the ocean waves, plundering and raiding, we who settled and built a civilization, we who carved out the greatest of empires that is or ever was, we who are the last protectors of freedom upon the Earth, we are lain low. It is a mean life, one which has few rewards.
My harbor is emptying day by day. Each time I look out, I see one less ship than there was before. Soon there shall only be the few that serve me in life and death, instead of just in life, and soon those shall fail, one by one, as well.
My people look accusingly at me, asking why their king has grown so weak, why a nation such as themselves has been cursed so obviously and so repeatedly by Fate.
I have no answer for them, for the question is posed by my own mind so often that I wish to die.
What can man do against such hopeless odds? I dwell upon that repeatedly as I contemplate the throne room that I sit in, a mockery of a throne room. This was the one used by the Kingdom of Troy, long laid waste. Now it is ours, for our true throne room, our real one, has been destroyed. Burnt to the ground. A shame, truly. I did love that gold and ivory, beautifully engraved chair, even if I only saw it in my dreams. In my dreams, I see the lions rearing, paw to paw, over the greatest gate. In my dreams, it is all so clear.
It is not clear in my waking hours. Life swirls around with little purpose or meaning. It is clear, now, what I was born forthe destruction of the Sea Peoples. But why they need me to live for this, that I do not comprehend.
The velvet curtains rustle softly as a visitor enters, lined and tired, just as I must look. His back is bent, poor Damocles. I wonder where the years have gone, that he has stooped so low... He was a powerful man in his youth, broad shouldered and brave with his sword like no other.
My lord, he says, every inch the faithful servant.
Do not bother to bow, Damocles. You know how I dislike pandering, I say lightly.
Im afraid you have taught me to bow and little else; when I was a pup, there was hope for me, but the hound has grown too old for statuedom.
I laugh softly. It is not funny, but I humor him nonetheless, to take his mind off of how old we are, terribly old.
He sighs. Fifty years ago, I would say that we ride to destroy our enemies on the field of battle. Now I am an old, done man, and as oft as not my battle is on the privy. Look what a jape the gods have made of meI should have died in battle, but now I linger...
Lingering is not so bad, I say. The only problem is when lingering takes a hold of your life so that you do little else.
Alas, our empire has entered into that stage, I fear.
I say nothing. There is nothing to say.
There was a letter that came with the messenger. I have the parchment.
Show me.
I read the message. It is eloquently written, as a king should sound. It is a true shame that we cannot sort out our differences with such letters, and that we should settle for sorting via the sword.
So it has come to this.
Yes, mlord.
How?
Pardon me, mlord?
How is it that it should come to this? That we should lose sight of our purpose, that we should fail so miserably? How is it that our allies abandoned us, but for lonely Byzantium, and how is it that in the end the Byzantines were not enough? Is this how a free realm falls?
We have a choice. A cold wind blows, rustling the curtains and filling the room with a salt smell. I can hear a far off storm, gathering in the distance.
A choice of half an empire or none. I dislike that choice.
But it is a choice, is it not?
A choice, and a chance. He is earnest, as though it is his ancestors that I am forsaking. As though he had ancestors for me to forsake: the old done man who went to bed without ever wedding. At least I have an heir to think of, but he has nothing. Nothing but for his kingdom. Perhaps that is what he thinks of.
There is yet hope for freedom, then.
Always.
I sigh. Then so it shall be. Tell the stableboys to saddle my horse.
Sir?
I shall not send my men to their doom. I shall ride with them. I shall sing the sword-song with them. And I shall likely die; my heir will live, and Hiram of Troy need not trouble the Sea Peoples any longer. But for my burial, of course, for us corpses are such nuisances.
Shall I send word to our generals as well?
Youd best do that, yes. It begins to rain outside, and I can hear the distant cry of thunder.
My harbor is emptying day by day. Each time I look out, I see one less ship than there was before. Soon there shall only be the few that serve me in life and death, instead of just in life, and soon those shall fail, one by one, as well.
My people look accusingly at me, asking why their king has grown so weak, why a nation such as themselves has been cursed so obviously and so repeatedly by Fate.
I have no answer for them, for the question is posed by my own mind so often that I wish to die.
What can man do against such hopeless odds? I dwell upon that repeatedly as I contemplate the throne room that I sit in, a mockery of a throne room. This was the one used by the Kingdom of Troy, long laid waste. Now it is ours, for our true throne room, our real one, has been destroyed. Burnt to the ground. A shame, truly. I did love that gold and ivory, beautifully engraved chair, even if I only saw it in my dreams. In my dreams, I see the lions rearing, paw to paw, over the greatest gate. In my dreams, it is all so clear.
It is not clear in my waking hours. Life swirls around with little purpose or meaning. It is clear, now, what I was born forthe destruction of the Sea Peoples. But why they need me to live for this, that I do not comprehend.
The velvet curtains rustle softly as a visitor enters, lined and tired, just as I must look. His back is bent, poor Damocles. I wonder where the years have gone, that he has stooped so low... He was a powerful man in his youth, broad shouldered and brave with his sword like no other.
My lord, he says, every inch the faithful servant.
Do not bother to bow, Damocles. You know how I dislike pandering, I say lightly.
Im afraid you have taught me to bow and little else; when I was a pup, there was hope for me, but the hound has grown too old for statuedom.
I laugh softly. It is not funny, but I humor him nonetheless, to take his mind off of how old we are, terribly old.
He sighs. Fifty years ago, I would say that we ride to destroy our enemies on the field of battle. Now I am an old, done man, and as oft as not my battle is on the privy. Look what a jape the gods have made of meI should have died in battle, but now I linger...
Lingering is not so bad, I say. The only problem is when lingering takes a hold of your life so that you do little else.
Alas, our empire has entered into that stage, I fear.
I say nothing. There is nothing to say.
There was a letter that came with the messenger. I have the parchment.
Show me.
I read the message. It is eloquently written, as a king should sound. It is a true shame that we cannot sort out our differences with such letters, and that we should settle for sorting via the sword.
So it has come to this.
Yes, mlord.
How?
Pardon me, mlord?
How is it that it should come to this? That we should lose sight of our purpose, that we should fail so miserably? How is it that our allies abandoned us, but for lonely Byzantium, and how is it that in the end the Byzantines were not enough? Is this how a free realm falls?
We have a choice. A cold wind blows, rustling the curtains and filling the room with a salt smell. I can hear a far off storm, gathering in the distance.
A choice of half an empire or none. I dislike that choice.
But it is a choice, is it not?
A choice, and a chance. He is earnest, as though it is his ancestors that I am forsaking. As though he had ancestors for me to forsake: the old done man who went to bed without ever wedding. At least I have an heir to think of, but he has nothing. Nothing but for his kingdom. Perhaps that is what he thinks of.
There is yet hope for freedom, then.
Always.
I sigh. Then so it shall be. Tell the stableboys to saddle my horse.
Sir?
I shall not send my men to their doom. I shall ride with them. I shall sing the sword-song with them. And I shall likely die; my heir will live, and Hiram of Troy need not trouble the Sea Peoples any longer. But for my burial, of course, for us corpses are such nuisances.
Shall I send word to our generals as well?
Youd best do that, yes. It begins to rain outside, and I can hear the distant cry of thunder.
Great story, I can't wait for you to write the ending. 
jalapeno_dude
AKA Panda Judo Eel
Great story! I think a lot of people can't wait...
PM box cleared, if anyone cares.
PM box cleared, if anyone cares.
jalapeno_dude
AKA Panda Judo Eel
I need orders from Dachsmpg, Stick Figure, ~Darkening~, and Neverwonagame2 (if he's still playing)...
jalapeno_dude
AKA Panda Judo Eel
I think he quit. But he sent a PM titled "Amendment to Orders", even though he never sent any in the first place.The Farow said:
So I'll probably just ignore him.
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