LINESII- Into the Darkness- Part III
- Thread starter Lord_Iggy
- Start date
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
Orders coming tonight if thats ok?
Silver Steak
The Ghost of SS
Yeah. Defenders ambushing a marching platoon don't go *gack* and die a dozen at a time by one volley(?) of arrows. But I'm more interested in how the title matches the story?
Wubba360
Emperor
its propaganda, that is all, and i made up that story in about ten minutes so it is pretty pathetic, title was just basically me thinking that sounds cool, no idea what it means either
err depends on the numbers; but in an ambush a significant number are killed as in any conflict, when one side has routed and is running away. The ambusher however has a significant advantage in that it strikes first, catches the enemy off guard and generally breaks them easily. And of course the situation of an ambush usually makes fleeing difficult.
Anyhoo. Deceided to stop revising, so I'm going to stare at the internetzors for a bit.
It would not be proper to call it a city, or town, or even a village. No plan was in its layout, no civic services, even so rudimentary as an elder existed; it was not assembled around a road or river or fertile fields, and little work was done by its inhabitants.
The only semi-permanent structure, and that which all the rest - mainly tents of one sort or another - clustered about was the wooden palisade of the main Syracian camp on the island. A full third of the fifteen hundred soldiers on the isle resided here, and the protection they offered drew in the pitiful remnants of the Ida'an'i'i.
Not every Ida'an'i'i was a pirate. Many were still farmers, fishermen, a few rudimentary crafters of stone and wood. With the collapse of what authority their culture had, and the rise of the anarchic and cruel pirate captains, the simple folk were reduced to subsistence living, barely managing to get by. That, of course, was when the pirates themselves did not come calling ...
The inhabitants of the tents and hovels huddled around the Syracian camp were mainly women, and children. Ida'an'i'i men had tried to stand up to the pirates, their former brothers; they were slain. Those who did not resist were press-ganged onto the galleys, always in need of oar-slaves, and if they did not die under the taskmaster's whip they drowned when Syracian fleets shattered the pirate ships. Only the youngest, unfit, or elderly were not dragged away to row.
For years, decades, this continued, populations barely managing to stay stable, smaller villages sometimes dwindling away to nothing as their population vanished. Outnumbered and unarmed the Ida'an'i'i women who tried to resist were even less successful than their menfolk before them; rape and pillage was the order of the day whenever a ship was seen coming to shore.
One day, the order changed. It was not one ship or two or four vessels that beached upon the shores, but a dozen, twenty, perhaps more. The men coming inland were not the unkempt, cruel-faced raiders of decades past, but disciplined, armored formations, bronze scale and spear and axe gleaming dully in what light leaked through the gathering clouds above, dun-and-blue banner emblazoned with the fire of invention snapping in the brisk and growing wind above the columns of fighting men. They were not murder and mayhem come again, but salvation.
What pirate lords based themselves from the island were swept away, the rabble they led falling like wheat before the scythe, slaughtered by the combined arms and strict tactics of the avenging soldiers in bronze. When the killing was done and the pirates gone, the Ida'an'i'i cowered in their pitiful huts with their meager belongings, waiting for their new overlords to come and take what little they had, and what they could not give as well.
They did not.
Bronze-armored soldiers patrolled the rutted dirt paths that passed as roadways on the isle, pitched their tents here and there and erected palisades of wood to guard them. There was no rape, no pillage, no murder, and when the pirates beached a vessel months later and came ashore to resume the status quo they were killed to a man by bronze axe and bronze spear, and the villagers left alone.
Years passed, and the Ida'an'i'i did not know what to do. They chose to do as they had for so long, and simply survived. Yet now they did not only survive, but grew; all their crops and catch were their own to keep, their crafts put to their own use, their children permitted to grow and learn without being snatched from home. A bold few went to far as to approach their bronze saviours of the dun-and-blue flag, to ask what their new lords might want, but the answer was always the same: Help us. Call for us when the raiders come. Tell us of the other isles. Aid us in hurling them back.
One year more bronze soldiers came to the isle; they were tired, bloodied, some nearly dead and carried by the others. With them came more Ida'an'i'i, frightened, soot-streaked, helping the wounded to walk; refugees of a battle lost. Soon the raids began again, and began to get worse, pressing hard the men of dun-and-blue to hold them back. Fearful Ida'an'i'i began to leave their villages, clustering about the security of the bronze men's camps. Far from field and shore, they began to sicken and starve, but did not dare return to their homes. All seemed lost.
Scant months later more ships bearing the colors of salvation arrived at the isle, heavily laden with goods. The bronze soldiers went to meet them and came back clad in iron, and bearing gifts of life. Food was given amongst the simple folk; dried fish, salted meat, vegetables and greens wilted from the voyage but delicious to empty bellies all the same. Sacks of grain became porridge and bread, and boxes of salves and strange mixtures comforted the weak and ill. Again the men of dun-and-blue had saved them all, and finally, the Ida'an'i'i began to return the favour, and helped as their saviours asked.
The only semi-permanent structure, and that which all the rest - mainly tents of one sort or another - clustered about was the wooden palisade of the main Syracian camp on the island. A full third of the fifteen hundred soldiers on the isle resided here, and the protection they offered drew in the pitiful remnants of the Ida'an'i'i.
Not every Ida'an'i'i was a pirate. Many were still farmers, fishermen, a few rudimentary crafters of stone and wood. With the collapse of what authority their culture had, and the rise of the anarchic and cruel pirate captains, the simple folk were reduced to subsistence living, barely managing to get by. That, of course, was when the pirates themselves did not come calling ...
The inhabitants of the tents and hovels huddled around the Syracian camp were mainly women, and children. Ida'an'i'i men had tried to stand up to the pirates, their former brothers; they were slain. Those who did not resist were press-ganged onto the galleys, always in need of oar-slaves, and if they did not die under the taskmaster's whip they drowned when Syracian fleets shattered the pirate ships. Only the youngest, unfit, or elderly were not dragged away to row.
For years, decades, this continued, populations barely managing to stay stable, smaller villages sometimes dwindling away to nothing as their population vanished. Outnumbered and unarmed the Ida'an'i'i women who tried to resist were even less successful than their menfolk before them; rape and pillage was the order of the day whenever a ship was seen coming to shore.
One day, the order changed. It was not one ship or two or four vessels that beached upon the shores, but a dozen, twenty, perhaps more. The men coming inland were not the unkempt, cruel-faced raiders of decades past, but disciplined, armored formations, bronze scale and spear and axe gleaming dully in what light leaked through the gathering clouds above, dun-and-blue banner emblazoned with the fire of invention snapping in the brisk and growing wind above the columns of fighting men. They were not murder and mayhem come again, but salvation.
What pirate lords based themselves from the island were swept away, the rabble they led falling like wheat before the scythe, slaughtered by the combined arms and strict tactics of the avenging soldiers in bronze. When the killing was done and the pirates gone, the Ida'an'i'i cowered in their pitiful huts with their meager belongings, waiting for their new overlords to come and take what little they had, and what they could not give as well.
They did not.
Bronze-armored soldiers patrolled the rutted dirt paths that passed as roadways on the isle, pitched their tents here and there and erected palisades of wood to guard them. There was no rape, no pillage, no murder, and when the pirates beached a vessel months later and came ashore to resume the status quo they were killed to a man by bronze axe and bronze spear, and the villagers left alone.
Years passed, and the Ida'an'i'i did not know what to do. They chose to do as they had for so long, and simply survived. Yet now they did not only survive, but grew; all their crops and catch were their own to keep, their crafts put to their own use, their children permitted to grow and learn without being snatched from home. A bold few went to far as to approach their bronze saviours of the dun-and-blue flag, to ask what their new lords might want, but the answer was always the same: Help us. Call for us when the raiders come. Tell us of the other isles. Aid us in hurling them back.
One year more bronze soldiers came to the isle; they were tired, bloodied, some nearly dead and carried by the others. With them came more Ida'an'i'i, frightened, soot-streaked, helping the wounded to walk; refugees of a battle lost. Soon the raids began again, and began to get worse, pressing hard the men of dun-and-blue to hold them back. Fearful Ida'an'i'i began to leave their villages, clustering about the security of the bronze men's camps. Far from field and shore, they began to sicken and starve, but did not dare return to their homes. All seemed lost.
Scant months later more ships bearing the colors of salvation arrived at the isle, heavily laden with goods. The bronze soldiers went to meet them and came back clad in iron, and bearing gifts of life. Food was given amongst the simple folk; dried fish, salted meat, vegetables and greens wilted from the voyage but delicious to empty bellies all the same. Sacks of grain became porridge and bread, and boxes of salves and strange mixtures comforted the weak and ill. Again the men of dun-and-blue had saved them all, and finally, the Ida'an'i'i began to return the favour, and helped as their saviours asked.
Oruc
Reactionary
To Khemri
From Zamdar
We wish to formalise our friendship into a Defensive allaince, Zamdar's ports shall be open to Khemri from the signing of the alliance.
From Zamdar
We wish to formalise our friendship into a Defensive allaince, Zamdar's ports shall be open to Khemri from the signing of the alliance.
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
OOC: After just reading the latest stories, I am deeply offended at both of them and will post my own story soon 
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
"Both?" He's ignoring your story, Wubba - you gonna take that?
OOC: Didn't bother reading yours since it doesn't involve me
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
Orders Away!!!! Accept them.
human-slaughter
brand new year
((A tiny story for a tiny country))
The Captain stood in the office of Abbot Ferak.
“Make haste North West Captain once you have reached the river move north along its east bank.”
“And what of the mountains Abbot?” the Captain asked
“Stay on the west side of them no need wasting your energy on those. The lands to the north will be our Captain. Good Luck and I have something a young woman made”
The abbot pulled a folded bundle of cloth from the side of his desk to the captain. The captain unraveled it. The flag was white with a blue spokes making a cross.
“Show it proudly at the front of the unit.” The abbot said.
The captain nodded and left the abbots office. The captain strode down out of the abbey main premises and made his way to the front of the mass of soldiers that were marching out of abbey.
“Evan” the captain said “fly this flag for me”
Evan cut a limb off of a nearby tree and attached the flag. The soldiers cheered as Evan raised it above the soldiers. A song caught with the soldiers that began to flow through the entire group. The captain looked ahead down into the river valley where there first destination lay. It would not be a hard journey and the soldiers were enthusiastic, ready to do Envia’s bidding. The land before them was forested. The captain contemplated using boats made of the nearby woodland to navigate down the river with more ease. The decision would be made once they made it to the river.
The Captain stood in the office of Abbot Ferak.
“Make haste North West Captain once you have reached the river move north along its east bank.”
“And what of the mountains Abbot?” the Captain asked
“Stay on the west side of them no need wasting your energy on those. The lands to the north will be our Captain. Good Luck and I have something a young woman made”
The abbot pulled a folded bundle of cloth from the side of his desk to the captain. The captain unraveled it. The flag was white with a blue spokes making a cross.
“Show it proudly at the front of the unit.” The abbot said.
The captain nodded and left the abbots office. The captain strode down out of the abbey main premises and made his way to the front of the mass of soldiers that were marching out of abbey.
“Evan” the captain said “fly this flag for me”
Evan cut a limb off of a nearby tree and attached the flag. The soldiers cheered as Evan raised it above the soldiers. A song caught with the soldiers that began to flow through the entire group. The captain looked ahead down into the river valley where there first destination lay. It would not be a hard journey and the soldiers were enthusiastic, ready to do Envia’s bidding. The land before them was forested. The captain contemplated using boats made of the nearby woodland to navigate down the river with more ease. The decision would be made once they made it to the river.
OOC: Didn't bother reading yours since it doesn't involve me
Bah, bloody self-absorbed Guangfei...an... ians. What is the plural form anyway?
jeps
Arcadefire
Anyone else notice a similarity? Catholic Finland! Reno might have something to say about that.
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
OOC: We're so good you can just refer to us as the Guangfei
I assure you though, when I have enough time I'll read it 
human-slaughter
brand new year
Anyone else notice a similarity? Catholic Finland! Reno might have something to say about that.
I took the Knights Templar Flag and made the cross blue. If you want to sue me for copyright infringment you might want to take it up with the original creators of the flag, oh wait right....
@LBaeldeth- That is the case for some of the pirate kingdoms, but several are actually quite egalitarian. Raiding other nations (particularly rich, prosperous you) is a respectable job. Of course, the ones nearest to you are probably harsher and more extreme, due to the constant strain of fighting you.
