Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
conehead234 said:
Arggh! minutes after I finish writing orders filled with contingency plans!
Sorry to see you go
NES2 V - The Great Game.
- Thread starter das
- Start date
- Status
Arggh! minutes after I finish writing orders filled with contingency plans!
Sorry to see you go
Stormbringer
The Brick and The Rose
Gujarat
A Federate soldier throws another bag of sand onto the pile that stretches from one side of the street to the other. He pauses to rest and an Indian recruit working next to him offers him a drink from his bottle. They both know that this city is the last one in Gujarat still in Federate hands, and they know that the Persians will come.
Another Indian watches out on the harbor, he is hoping Federate ships will arrive. They passed here on their way into Persia, so where could they have gone to? A Federate soldier comes up and offers to split his last pieve of bread with the Indian, and they talk as they eat it and look out into the empty horizon.
British, North American, Indian, they are all soldiers. They are all Federate Soldiers, and right now they are comrades, because it doesn't matter how they ended up on this side of the war, what matters is the enemy, only a few miles away.
The soldiers finish the bread and the water, and one by one take up the positions along the line of sandbags in the street. The Persians are coming, and they will have to kill all of them, Federates and Indians, before they can take the city.
Brussells
Belgian flags everywhere. Everywhere. For the first time since the French occupation the Belgians were free to decide what they want to do, and the choice was not hard - the freedoms and prosperity of the Federated Kingdoms was hard to resist. But it was not about the Federated Kingdoms, it was about Belgium. About finally fighting the French, the hated occupiers, the people who have brought so much suffering.
Volunteers marched through the streets of Brussells, as people cheered from the windows and the sides of the streets. The war in France was almost over, but these volunteers, these brave soldiers, wanted to give all they could for their new freedom and liberty, and to bring it to others as well.
North America
A burned town...A child walking through the street, looking for his mother, but he won't find her...A group of scattered men, young and old, most wounded, coming home to nothing...
Everything taken from them, all their lives lost, because of the hated French. The French came and raped their women, killed their children, and burned their homes. The French would pay.
From every village that was burned, from every home that suffered a loss, from every town through which the French came a string of men, young and old, started moving towards the French border. There would be revenge.
Brazil
A few Federate soldiers were moving up the river on a boat. The banks seemed calm, and the sun was setting. It was time to disembark, but the only village nearby was a Brazilian one with no Federate garrison.
The soldiers pulled up to the village and went ashore. No one came to gree them. Slowly they moved through the village, and eventually came upon a little girl. One of the soldiers bent down and greeted her, "'ello there, 'eres e'eryone?" At that moment a woman rushed from the house to protect the girl, shouting "No! Don't kill her!"
The soldiers steped back and watched as the woman covered the girl with her body, and prepared to be struck by the soldiers, but to her surprise nothing happened. The soldier extended his arm and pulled the woman up, and asked why she was afraid of him. She said that he wanted to kill her, and he laughed. Of course he didn't want to kill her, he didn't want to kill anyone at all.
Within a few minutes the rest of the villagers came out of the houses and begun talking. A really old man aproached the soldiers and asked, "You aren't like the Portugese, are you?"
No, the Federates were not like the Portugese.
East Africa
Wet, dirty ground. The soldiers kept on going, and going, and going, and going. They must not stop, they must not get tired, they must get to the route. The French, the vile French that took their homes from them. The soldiers kept going and going and going, until they came upon the route where the French supplies were supposed to be. They layed low and caught a few moments of relief until they saw the unifroms of the French in the jungle. And thats when they started shooting. Ten blacks and one white, but all Federates.
I'll take over for Conehead. I haven't played the Chinese in a long time. Could either he or you (das) send me his orders from last turn so I know troop locations and such of my army. And to know what that secret project of mine is 
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
Two emperors in China? 
!
Nice stories Stormbringer, if ever so slightly over the top. Whats that flag from by the way?
!Nice stories Stormbringer, if ever so slightly over the top
. Whats that flag from by the way?
Stormbringer
The Brick and The Rose
The flag is of the british army
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Whoever ends up taking China...please decide quickly. I have plans to send.
From: Persia
To: Balkan Pact
Abort mission! Abort mission!
Iggy, if you get that message, please don't proceed attacking a neutral target.
From: Persia
To: Balkan Pact
Abort mission! Abort mission!
Iggy, if you get that message, please don't proceed attacking a neutral target.
Grandmaster
Deity
The Kingdom of Hungary thanks Persia for kindly not launching a war of aggression against a neutral power. 
tommy_toon
Emperor
Exert from La Gazeta de Buenos Aires
As people all across the Platine Republic celebrate the one year anniversary of their independence, it appears that the Federated Kingdoms intend to continue fighting the revolution. The streets of Buenos Aires have been filled with chants of “Vive Platine! Vive la independencia!” much the same as it was when our founding padres wrote our declaration of independence from the Federate Kingdoms.
“This is history in the making. We’re fighting a revolution against the only world power, to defeat them will secure our place in history and in South America,” explained Mariano Moreno, coordinator of the revolution and leader of La Primera Junta. “This isn’t just a fight for the soldiers, it’s a fight for all people within South America against the imperialists of Europe.”
At the same time as the independence celebrations were commencing, the Prime Minister of the Federated Kingdoms issued a propagandized speech to his people, declaring that they “Must become less apologetic, less hesitant, and less humble than we have been before. We know that we are Right, that the forces of Good are on our side.” Moreno commented on the speech that, “They are aware of what the oppression they cause against all people in the world, yet they continue to do it. They grow greedy for land, wealth, and power that does not belong to them. Like a cat in a corner, they will strike out at whatever they can reach now.”
“I must agree with the Prime Minister on one detail though,” Moreno admits, “Minorities within some regions are trying to impose their rule on others, which is why we must rise up against the Federates and bring sovereign reign to our nation and the rest of South America.”
Every day it becomes more apparent that the fighting will not end until either the Federates are driven from the continent, or the Freedom Fighters are slaughtered. As a nation, we must stand strong against our enemies, joining hands, taking arms, and defeating them against all odds. If we do not rise up against them now, it will be our children later; what parent wishes to see their child fight and die in battle?
Federated Kingdoms Fighting To Survive
As people all across the Platine Republic celebrate the one year anniversary of their independence, it appears that the Federated Kingdoms intend to continue fighting the revolution. The streets of Buenos Aires have been filled with chants of “Vive Platine! Vive la independencia!” much the same as it was when our founding padres wrote our declaration of independence from the Federate Kingdoms.
“This is history in the making. We’re fighting a revolution against the only world power, to defeat them will secure our place in history and in South America,” explained Mariano Moreno, coordinator of the revolution and leader of La Primera Junta. “This isn’t just a fight for the soldiers, it’s a fight for all people within South America against the imperialists of Europe.”
At the same time as the independence celebrations were commencing, the Prime Minister of the Federated Kingdoms issued a propagandized speech to his people, declaring that they “Must become less apologetic, less hesitant, and less humble than we have been before. We know that we are Right, that the forces of Good are on our side.” Moreno commented on the speech that, “They are aware of what the oppression they cause against all people in the world, yet they continue to do it. They grow greedy for land, wealth, and power that does not belong to them. Like a cat in a corner, they will strike out at whatever they can reach now.”
“I must agree with the Prime Minister on one detail though,” Moreno admits, “Minorities within some regions are trying to impose their rule on others, which is why we must rise up against the Federates and bring sovereign reign to our nation and the rest of South America.”
Every day it becomes more apparent that the fighting will not end until either the Federates are driven from the continent, or the Freedom Fighters are slaughtered. As a nation, we must stand strong against our enemies, joining hands, taking arms, and defeating them against all odds. If we do not rise up against them now, it will be our children later; what parent wishes to see their child fight and die in battle?
silver 2039
Deity
- Joined
- Jul 26, 2003
- Messages
- 16,208
I'll send orders after school.
ThomAnder
Deity
- Joined
- Mar 26, 2004
- Messages
- 2,237
March 2 1866
Adam Wlodek was excited. He was seated inside the compartment of a train, along with dozens of fellow soldiers. For the first time since he joined the army, he will no longer be doing field practices. Beginning tomorrow, he will enter the battlefield and prove to the others at home who still doubted his manhood. True, he lied about his age to get into the army, but he was only one year away. Coming from a relatively wealthy family, it wasn’t hard to get strings pulled to let him in. At the time, it was thought that there would be no wars in Poland, so his parents consented as well. Adam was the youngest of four in his family. His three elder siblings were all successful in their respective fields. After tomorrow, he hopes the same can be said of him.
March 5 1866
As Adam urged his horse to trot slightly faster, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He was part of the Royal Cavalry of Poland, and his role on the battlefield was a message courier. He wasn’t even allowed to scout the enemies’ position like some of his peers. He was forced to stay well behind the front, and he wasn’t satisfied. Some of his comrades, however, were elated at the menial tasks given to them.
“This is great… I can see my beloved Anna again within a matter of weeks now!”
“Are you sure? I heard from the captain that they’re going to be selecting a bunch of us to travel east… words are that an operation is being prepared against Muscovy!”
“What? Do you think it’ll work if I feign being ill when they come to select the men?”
The rest of the conversation was lost to Adam, for he now has his sight set on a new goal. He will prove to the world his abilities on the field of Muscovy.
October 27 1866
This winter was going to be unlike any others for Adam. He will still be able to ski, but no longer will he be doing so for the sake of recreational fun. It wasn’t easy finding a ‘suitable’ division to join after he arrived at the Muscovy borders. They had little to no use for a cavalry soldier like him, aside from being a message courier again. It was purely by chance that he overheard what he did, for he now realize that there was more to the original operation than he and many others thought. It wasn’t so much by chance that he also happened to be a good skier. He was from a wealthy family; he had a lot of spare time to spend on recreational sports. It didn’t take much to convince his superior officers to allow him to join as a member of the ski infantry divisions. They were desperate for every man who could ski reasonably well.
December 24 1866
The last two months had been difficult for Adam. During the campaign, his division spearheaded the second attack on Muscovy lines, and broke through. Along the way, he learned a number of lessons, the most important and difficult of which was killing a fellow human being. It didn’t matter if they were soldiers of the evil Tsardom of Muscovy. It didn’t matter that he was defending the ideology of democracy in doing so. At that instant, he forgot why he was on the battlefield. Fortunately, that feeling of regret only lasted a brief moment. He was on the battlefield, where idle brains means death. He moved on, and took many more lives. Oddly enough, the more he killed, the less it affected him. It reached the point when he stopped thinking of his actions. Today, however, he finally paused to reflect on his life the last several months. He has reached his goal of proving his manhood, at the expense of a number of muscovites’ lives. As he made camp with the rest of the Army, he prayed to God for forgiveness. Not only for what he has done, but also for what he will continue to do.
February 27 1867
Adam was on a horse once again, and his division was on the move again. The day prior, he was given a choice by his commanding officer. He could return to the western front and comply with the request of his family, or he could remain with his current division. He chose the latter. He couldn’t have known at the time the danger he has placed himself in by choosing to remain in the Eastern front. All he knew was that he was not going to leave the men he had fought alongside with for the last four months.
April 11 1867
The army was marching again. This march, however, was different from the previous marches. Instead of advancing toward Moscow, they were heading the opposite way. According to intelligence reports, a Muscovite counterattack was expected. Furthermore, the capital is likely to be heavily guarded. Even if they succeeded in taking the city, they will likely be stranded. The only option left for them was to retreat, hopefully in time to face the Muscovite counterattack. It wasn’t only Adam who felt a sense of dread. Although they hope it won’t happen, they were all ready for the worse case scenario where they maybe stranded in enemy lands.
September 19 1867
Adam was surprised he was still alive. His division has been involved in a number of skirmishes, and suffered heavy casualties. Even his commanding officer fell in the battlefield, struck down by a stray cannon ball. Even more surprising was the fact that he was now in command of the remaining soldiers. Although there were soldiers more experienced than him, the rest of the divisions (including the veterans) “elected” him to lead them. It was true that Adam demonstrated courage and character fit for a commanding officer during the battles, but it still came as a surprise. After all, just a year ago he was fighting to earn the respect of his family and close friends. Adam complied, and promised to lead them out of the hole they were in. He couldn’t have said anything else, for fear of lowering their morale even further. The only problem, of course, was figuring out a way to fulfill his words.
EDIT: I just realized that my 1000th post is a story
Neat
Adam Wlodek was excited. He was seated inside the compartment of a train, along with dozens of fellow soldiers. For the first time since he joined the army, he will no longer be doing field practices. Beginning tomorrow, he will enter the battlefield and prove to the others at home who still doubted his manhood. True, he lied about his age to get into the army, but he was only one year away. Coming from a relatively wealthy family, it wasn’t hard to get strings pulled to let him in. At the time, it was thought that there would be no wars in Poland, so his parents consented as well. Adam was the youngest of four in his family. His three elder siblings were all successful in their respective fields. After tomorrow, he hopes the same can be said of him.
March 5 1866
As Adam urged his horse to trot slightly faster, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He was part of the Royal Cavalry of Poland, and his role on the battlefield was a message courier. He wasn’t even allowed to scout the enemies’ position like some of his peers. He was forced to stay well behind the front, and he wasn’t satisfied. Some of his comrades, however, were elated at the menial tasks given to them.
“This is great… I can see my beloved Anna again within a matter of weeks now!”
“Are you sure? I heard from the captain that they’re going to be selecting a bunch of us to travel east… words are that an operation is being prepared against Muscovy!”
“What? Do you think it’ll work if I feign being ill when they come to select the men?”
The rest of the conversation was lost to Adam, for he now has his sight set on a new goal. He will prove to the world his abilities on the field of Muscovy.
October 27 1866
This winter was going to be unlike any others for Adam. He will still be able to ski, but no longer will he be doing so for the sake of recreational fun. It wasn’t easy finding a ‘suitable’ division to join after he arrived at the Muscovy borders. They had little to no use for a cavalry soldier like him, aside from being a message courier again. It was purely by chance that he overheard what he did, for he now realize that there was more to the original operation than he and many others thought. It wasn’t so much by chance that he also happened to be a good skier. He was from a wealthy family; he had a lot of spare time to spend on recreational sports. It didn’t take much to convince his superior officers to allow him to join as a member of the ski infantry divisions. They were desperate for every man who could ski reasonably well.
December 24 1866
The last two months had been difficult for Adam. During the campaign, his division spearheaded the second attack on Muscovy lines, and broke through. Along the way, he learned a number of lessons, the most important and difficult of which was killing a fellow human being. It didn’t matter if they were soldiers of the evil Tsardom of Muscovy. It didn’t matter that he was defending the ideology of democracy in doing so. At that instant, he forgot why he was on the battlefield. Fortunately, that feeling of regret only lasted a brief moment. He was on the battlefield, where idle brains means death. He moved on, and took many more lives. Oddly enough, the more he killed, the less it affected him. It reached the point when he stopped thinking of his actions. Today, however, he finally paused to reflect on his life the last several months. He has reached his goal of proving his manhood, at the expense of a number of muscovites’ lives. As he made camp with the rest of the Army, he prayed to God for forgiveness. Not only for what he has done, but also for what he will continue to do.
February 27 1867
Adam was on a horse once again, and his division was on the move again. The day prior, he was given a choice by his commanding officer. He could return to the western front and comply with the request of his family, or he could remain with his current division. He chose the latter. He couldn’t have known at the time the danger he has placed himself in by choosing to remain in the Eastern front. All he knew was that he was not going to leave the men he had fought alongside with for the last four months.
April 11 1867
The army was marching again. This march, however, was different from the previous marches. Instead of advancing toward Moscow, they were heading the opposite way. According to intelligence reports, a Muscovite counterattack was expected. Furthermore, the capital is likely to be heavily guarded. Even if they succeeded in taking the city, they will likely be stranded. The only option left for them was to retreat, hopefully in time to face the Muscovite counterattack. It wasn’t only Adam who felt a sense of dread. Although they hope it won’t happen, they were all ready for the worse case scenario where they maybe stranded in enemy lands.
September 19 1867
Adam was surprised he was still alive. His division has been involved in a number of skirmishes, and suffered heavy casualties. Even his commanding officer fell in the battlefield, struck down by a stray cannon ball. Even more surprising was the fact that he was now in command of the remaining soldiers. Although there were soldiers more experienced than him, the rest of the divisions (including the veterans) “elected” him to lead them. It was true that Adam demonstrated courage and character fit for a commanding officer during the battles, but it still came as a surprise. After all, just a year ago he was fighting to earn the respect of his family and close friends. Adam complied, and promised to lead them out of the hole they were in. He couldn’t have said anything else, for fear of lowering their morale even further. The only problem, of course, was figuring out a way to fulfill his words.
EDIT: I just realized that my 1000th post is a story
Neat
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Wait, wait wait.
Azale, could you please PM me with your orders? Just need to adjust my plans to them.
Azale, could you please PM me with your orders? Just need to adjust my plans to them.
silver 2039
Deity
- Joined
- Jul 26, 2003
- Messages
- 16,208
Thalyi did you get my pm?
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
A young officer gazed through field goggles.
"Hmm. It would seem that the southern Gujarati positions are being reinforced. Yes. Yes. Tell Intelligence that they're using hard labor, or whipping the conscripts, or something."
As he typed up his daily operational report, he didn't know that his life would be ending quite soon. The young man was a Kurd. His family was slaughtered by Ottoman Guards in the retreat from Iraq, but he entered the irregulars, returning to his village after driving off the Turks. After two years in Teheran University, he then volunteered, along with many others, to "Liberate Islam from Federate Global Imperialism," or so the posters said.
As the Federated Kingdoms incendiary shell, beautifully crafted in York, forged and transported over thousands miles of trecherous ocean, hurtled toward the small operations tent, Tariz sent off his report. He smiled. His tour of duty ended in six weeks, and he looked forward to seeing his bride.
Unfortunately, the tent doubled as an ammunition magazine.
BOOM!
Tariz Kalid, Second Lieutenant of the Islamic Army of Persia, was killed. His body was completely vaporized after the Federate shell struck his position. Except for some scattered appendages, that is. Few would ever know his eventual whereabouts. Due to a clerical error, it was unknown whether he perished in the explosion, before it, or in the resulting Federate counterattack and massacre.
Although his Teheran grave wasn't even marked, it was the most revered in all Persia.
What was so remarkable about one mid-level officer? killed, like many thousands of others.
He was the highest ranking officer in the First World War to disappear without a trace. He was Unknown.
The very first Unknown Soldier.
The massive marble and obsidian monument in Teheran would have a wreath laid at it's feet, by the Shah himself, every year for the rest of his life. But right now, that very same explosion was making a certain Supreme Commander rather irritated.
"Damn them! DAMN THESE BLOODY BASTARDS TO HELL AND BACK, ALLAH BE DAMNED!!! WHAT IN HELL'S NAME IS GOING ON AROUND HERE?"
Osman Mustafa, even by his own account, was a little angry. After breaking three glasses with his bare hands, and smashing his saber into a small coffee table, totally crushing it, he sat back down. Red faced, and shoulders heaving, he composed himself.
"Now," he smiled, "where were we?"
The Shah, five generals, and eleven clerics, just stared. Ibrahim spoke first.
"Mustafa?"
"Yes?"
"You do know that you're a total idiot, right?"
"Quite aware, your Excellency."
"Good. Although I admit, gathering us all together in this...fortification..."
"Foxhole," snorted Mustafa.
"Fortification...is a bit strange. Why couldn't we meet in Shiraz, my liege?"
To this point, it looked like Ardashir had been sleeping. Everyone knew that Ardashir never slept. Only the Shah and his personal secretary were in on the fact that he really did sleep through these meetings. It's not like anything of importance was ever said.
The Gray Turbans all waited expectantly for their Shah's reply.
BOOM! BOOM! SHHHEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKBOOM!
Three artillery shells, in quick succession, struck near the defensive position. The Shah started awake, but no one noticed. A little plaster and dirt sprinkled down from the ceiling into Mustafa's mug. He swore violently under his breath.
"Ah...of course, Ibrahim. I have brought you all here on an errand of great importance. Not only am I delivering your operational orders, but we need to discuss the...political future of Persia."
"Indeed...indeed we do, sire."
Mohammed bin-Rabat, Minister of War, and four other clerics stood. They formed an important bloc in the Islamic Council. All of them withdrew guns. Mustafa immediately sprang up, drawing his service pistol.
"A coup, eh? Die, traitors!"
In the resulting exchange, one cleric fell to the ground with a neck wound, fatal. Mustafa nursed a bleeding hand, and fell back into his chair, defeated.
Ardashir merely stared at them, neutrally. He didn't usually show emotion.
"Ardashir...when we put you into power, we wanted a strong Persia. But look at this! We are fighting an unwinnable war, against a world power. The only world power. It is the recklessness of you, and your armies, that has put us in this position! We will make peace, and now. And you will die."
"I'm sorry, Ardashir, but it is over."
The Falcon merely stared, grey eyes completely expressionless. No one blinked.
"So...that is what you think?"
"I'm warning you Ardashir!" Hands shaking, the cleric placed a single bullet into the gun.
"Calm down, Rabat. Let me just say this."
"Say what you will, your death is nigh!"
"So that is what you would have us return to...the Zand despotism. So safe, so fat, so comfortable, oh yes! The Shah and his advisors, sitting in their palaces. Planning to squeeze a new tax to build a railroad, or a steamboat, or some other Western convenience."
"This is what you want, Rabat. You want to feed meat to the Hydra, thinking you will tame it? You cannot tame the Hydra. It would slay it's own mother if it were given the chance.
"You do not need to take my life, Rabat. I have often wanted to end this rule myself."
The Shah slowly removed his gleaming Sword, the Royal Scimitar, studded with sapphires and silver. He placed the blade on his neck.
"But...there was one thing I thought about, as I prepared to kill myself, just as I am now."
The clerics and the generals watched their Shah, motionless.
"The people, Rabat. The people. That is why I win, and you lose."
In a flash, the Shah sprang out of his seat. The clerics all fired bullets, three of which struck Ardashir in the chest, and legs. But he still moved forward. Suleiman, Malik, and Jeshua provided covering fire, as those clerics still loyal to Ardashir fled the room, with the exception of Ibrahim.
Rabat drew a dagger, and slashed at Ardashir's face. A jagged cut ran down his cheek. But still he moved forward.
He raised his sword.
BOOM SHEEEEEKBOOM! The shells fell.
He brought it down.
And beheaded Rabat, in one stroke. The other clerics, by now, were dead.
The Shah of Persia, Ardashir IV, looked like a being from Hell itself. Bleeding and ghastly, his chest heaved. The Royal Scimitar dripped with the blood of traitors.
"Get me a doctor," Ibrahim said to an orderly who crept out of the carnage.
"GET ME A DOCTOR!"
"At once, your excellency."
Still the Shah moved, checking the pulses of each and every one of the traitorous clerics. He swayed on his feet. His eyes dialated.
Ardashir whispered, lips barely moving. "I only wish...that...I had....done more...and sooner...Allah..."
And he collapsed.
"Hmm. It would seem that the southern Gujarati positions are being reinforced. Yes. Yes. Tell Intelligence that they're using hard labor, or whipping the conscripts, or something."
As he typed up his daily operational report, he didn't know that his life would be ending quite soon. The young man was a Kurd. His family was slaughtered by Ottoman Guards in the retreat from Iraq, but he entered the irregulars, returning to his village after driving off the Turks. After two years in Teheran University, he then volunteered, along with many others, to "Liberate Islam from Federate Global Imperialism," or so the posters said.
As the Federated Kingdoms incendiary shell, beautifully crafted in York, forged and transported over thousands miles of trecherous ocean, hurtled toward the small operations tent, Tariz sent off his report. He smiled. His tour of duty ended in six weeks, and he looked forward to seeing his bride.
Unfortunately, the tent doubled as an ammunition magazine.
BOOM!
Tariz Kalid, Second Lieutenant of the Islamic Army of Persia, was killed. His body was completely vaporized after the Federate shell struck his position. Except for some scattered appendages, that is. Few would ever know his eventual whereabouts. Due to a clerical error, it was unknown whether he perished in the explosion, before it, or in the resulting Federate counterattack and massacre.
Although his Teheran grave wasn't even marked, it was the most revered in all Persia.
What was so remarkable about one mid-level officer? killed, like many thousands of others.
He was the highest ranking officer in the First World War to disappear without a trace. He was Unknown.
The very first Unknown Soldier.
The massive marble and obsidian monument in Teheran would have a wreath laid at it's feet, by the Shah himself, every year for the rest of his life. But right now, that very same explosion was making a certain Supreme Commander rather irritated.
"Damn them! DAMN THESE BLOODY BASTARDS TO HELL AND BACK, ALLAH BE DAMNED!!! WHAT IN HELL'S NAME IS GOING ON AROUND HERE?"
Osman Mustafa, even by his own account, was a little angry. After breaking three glasses with his bare hands, and smashing his saber into a small coffee table, totally crushing it, he sat back down. Red faced, and shoulders heaving, he composed himself.
"Now," he smiled, "where were we?"
The Shah, five generals, and eleven clerics, just stared. Ibrahim spoke first.
"Mustafa?"
"Yes?"
"You do know that you're a total idiot, right?"
"Quite aware, your Excellency."
"Good. Although I admit, gathering us all together in this...fortification..."
"Foxhole," snorted Mustafa.
"Fortification...is a bit strange. Why couldn't we meet in Shiraz, my liege?"
To this point, it looked like Ardashir had been sleeping. Everyone knew that Ardashir never slept. Only the Shah and his personal secretary were in on the fact that he really did sleep through these meetings. It's not like anything of importance was ever said.
The Gray Turbans all waited expectantly for their Shah's reply.
BOOM! BOOM! SHHHEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKBOOM!
Three artillery shells, in quick succession, struck near the defensive position. The Shah started awake, but no one noticed. A little plaster and dirt sprinkled down from the ceiling into Mustafa's mug. He swore violently under his breath.
"Ah...of course, Ibrahim. I have brought you all here on an errand of great importance. Not only am I delivering your operational orders, but we need to discuss the...political future of Persia."
"Indeed...indeed we do, sire."
Mohammed bin-Rabat, Minister of War, and four other clerics stood. They formed an important bloc in the Islamic Council. All of them withdrew guns. Mustafa immediately sprang up, drawing his service pistol.
"A coup, eh? Die, traitors!"
In the resulting exchange, one cleric fell to the ground with a neck wound, fatal. Mustafa nursed a bleeding hand, and fell back into his chair, defeated.
Ardashir merely stared at them, neutrally. He didn't usually show emotion.
"Ardashir...when we put you into power, we wanted a strong Persia. But look at this! We are fighting an unwinnable war, against a world power. The only world power. It is the recklessness of you, and your armies, that has put us in this position! We will make peace, and now. And you will die."
"I'm sorry, Ardashir, but it is over."
The Falcon merely stared, grey eyes completely expressionless. No one blinked.
"So...that is what you think?"
"I'm warning you Ardashir!" Hands shaking, the cleric placed a single bullet into the gun.
"Calm down, Rabat. Let me just say this."
"Say what you will, your death is nigh!"
"So that is what you would have us return to...the Zand despotism. So safe, so fat, so comfortable, oh yes! The Shah and his advisors, sitting in their palaces. Planning to squeeze a new tax to build a railroad, or a steamboat, or some other Western convenience."
"This is what you want, Rabat. You want to feed meat to the Hydra, thinking you will tame it? You cannot tame the Hydra. It would slay it's own mother if it were given the chance.
"You do not need to take my life, Rabat. I have often wanted to end this rule myself."
The Shah slowly removed his gleaming Sword, the Royal Scimitar, studded with sapphires and silver. He placed the blade on his neck.
"But...there was one thing I thought about, as I prepared to kill myself, just as I am now."
The clerics and the generals watched their Shah, motionless.
"The people, Rabat. The people. That is why I win, and you lose."
In a flash, the Shah sprang out of his seat. The clerics all fired bullets, three of which struck Ardashir in the chest, and legs. But he still moved forward. Suleiman, Malik, and Jeshua provided covering fire, as those clerics still loyal to Ardashir fled the room, with the exception of Ibrahim.
Rabat drew a dagger, and slashed at Ardashir's face. A jagged cut ran down his cheek. But still he moved forward.
He raised his sword.
BOOM SHEEEEEKBOOM! The shells fell.
He brought it down.
And beheaded Rabat, in one stroke. The other clerics, by now, were dead.
The Shah of Persia, Ardashir IV, looked like a being from Hell itself. Bleeding and ghastly, his chest heaved. The Royal Scimitar dripped with the blood of traitors.
"Get me a doctor," Ibrahim said to an orderly who crept out of the carnage.
"GET ME A DOCTOR!"
"At once, your excellency."
Still the Shah moved, checking the pulses of each and every one of the traitorous clerics. He swayed on his feet. His eyes dialated.
Ardashir whispered, lips barely moving. "I only wish...that...I had....done more...and sooner...Allah..."
And he collapsed.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Orders rattled off at a lovely Qwerty keyboard. I look forward to the update, best of luck with it, das.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Gah...have to take several changes of plans into account. If orders don't reach you soon das, they will tomorrow.
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