Sisiutil
All Leader Challenger
This weekend. Promise.
Princes of the Universe, Part II
- Thread starter Sisiutil
- Start date
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- Apr 4, 2010
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MoreEpicThanYou
The most Epic.
First Yoshi, and now this. What next? AOS's long-lost Spain story? Peoples of Persia?
- Joined
- Apr 4, 2010
- Messages
- 8,873
I just re-read it. It was Awesome. 
Optical
The Fall of the Eleventh
Best news since the announcement that this was coming out of hiatus!
Linkman226
#anarchy
- Joined
- Sep 14, 2007
- Messages
- 2,493
I just re-read it. It was Awesome.
Naturally, with a capital A. This Thread is Too Awesome to get anything less.
Thanks Sisiutil for not forgetting about us! I look forward to the update!
strijder20
Wallowing in irony
Oh, wait..
Aren't I leaving this weekend, not coming home for two weeks?
Well, I suppose I can read it when I come back
Sisiutil
All Leader Challenger
Chapter 17 – Scipio's Victory
Marcus Scipio and the Battle of Tiflis
Part 1
From across the water, Captain Marcus Scipio heard the boom of the cannon. How he could tell this shot, as opposed to the several dozen preceding ones, was aimed at him, he didn’t know, but know it he did. And yet he could do nothing. He stood there on the deck of the Roman Galleon Aphrodite, leaning against her teak starboard railing, and listened in fatalistic silence as the cannonball hissed menacingly through the air toward him.
The ball fell into the water some thirty metres away from where Scipio stood. An eruption of salt water splashed over him, and Scipio cursed and flinched despite his best efforts to remain stalwart and nonchalant like a good Roman officer.
“Language, Scipio, if you please!” Colonel Cato rumbled from behind him.
Scipio shot a glance at his new commanding officer. Already the ascetic yet handsome face with its piercing blue eyes was turning away from him as though he considered Scipio barely worthy of his notice—let alone his contempt.
“Suck my mentula, you old bastard,” Scipio muttered at the back of Cato’s head of silver-grey, close-cropped hair. .
“What was that, Scipio?” Cato asked sharply without turning around.
Scipio had to bite back another curse. The old buzzard had ears like a dog’s.
“I said, my apologies, sir,” Scipio responded. “I’m never at my best aboard a ship.”
Cato grunted. “That makes you a typical soldier. Well, if it makes you feel better, we’ll be back on solid ground shortly,” the older man said with an enthusiastic nod toward their destination.
And fighting for our lives, Scipio added silently. He turned his gaze back out over the prow of the ship toward the island that loomed ahead of them—indeed, ahead of the entire Roman fleet. Tiflis. The last remaining Mongolian city—the final stronghold. Of course it would be on a bloody island, requiring the invading Roman army to rely on the navy to carry them through a wolf pack of Mongolian frigates and a hailstorm of cannon fire to get there. And that was the easy part. Like all the other Mongolian cities they had taken, Tiflis possessed high, thick walls; and according to Roman intelligence, it was stuffed to overflowing with Mongolian soldiers. Not just any Mongolian regulars, either—these were the survivors, the die-hards who had chose to dig themselves in on an island fortress rather than surrender to the inevitable. As if that wasn’t bad enough, rumour had it that Genghis Khan himself was there along with his personal troop of bodyguards. They were the best of the best, the most skilled Mongolian horsemen, stone-cold, dedicated killers to a man.
So. All the Romans had to do to finalize their victory in Mongolia was storm and capture this seemingly impregnable fortress, overcome the most skilled and seasoned veterans in Khan’s army, then find and capture the Mongolians’ immortal leader himself.
Scipio shook his head and sighed desultorily. Another cannonball flew overhead. He didn’t even flinch this time. If the Mongolians manning the cannon would just improve their aim, they’d be saving him a lot of trouble.
The heavy iron ball splashed in the water about twenty metres to the port side of the Aphrodite. As some of the sea spray it stirred up rained upon Scipio’s face, he heard the deck boards groan as if complaining about some unwanted weight they had to bear. Scipio turned and saw the hulking form of Sergeant Necalli standing beside him at the gunwale. The big Aztec grunted desultorily.
“Mongos aren’t fond of company, are they, sir?” he said, understating the situation as usual.
“Not ours, anyway,” Scipio replied.
Necalli glanced over his shoulder at Colonel Cato. “Maybe they’ve met him before,” he muttered under his breath.
Scipio chuckled softly. The hawk-faced, aesthetic older man seemed competent enough, but exuded very little warmth. Perhaps it was those cold blue eyes? No, the man’s personality was as frosty as midnight in winter. It made Scipio doubt that Cato cared much for the men under his command; what could he and his companions be but mere means to an end for their new commanding officer? The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
“You’re feeling it too, aren’t you?” Necalli said quietly.
“Feeling what?” Scipio asked in a surprised tone. It wasn’t like the burly Aztec to discuss anything as nebulous as “feelings”.
Necalli shrugged his broad shoulders. “Age. The end of the war. How long can we keep beating the odds?” Another cannonball whistled by and landed less than metres to port, the splash forcing the two riflemen to duck behind the gunwale to avoid being drenched. “They're getting their range,” Necalli said.
And underlining your point, Scipio thought. With the end of the war imminent, Scipio had lately dared, for the first time, to think beyond it. He considered a future for himself... and, yes, for Nara, with Nara. But all it would take to scupper such plans would be one bullet, one cannonball, one stray hoof thrown by a Keshik’s mount...
Scipio and Necalli turned and watched as the Aphrodite’s captain shouted orders to manoeuvre evasively in response to the closing range of the cannon fire. The ever-supercilious Colonel Cato, Scipio noticed, paid the ship’s captain little heed. His cold blue eyes kept staring straight ahead, at the high walls of the island fortress than now began to loom above them, studying the foreboding parapets as if he expected Genghis himself to appear there. The Colonel wanted to bring the Great Khan in chains to Caesar himself, no doubt; he wanted victory above all else.
Scipio just wanted it to be over. In his gut, he feared it soon would be, but not in a way he would enjoy.
Marcus Scipio and the Battle of Tiflis
Part 1
From across the water, Captain Marcus Scipio heard the boom of the cannon. How he could tell this shot, as opposed to the several dozen preceding ones, was aimed at him, he didn’t know, but know it he did. And yet he could do nothing. He stood there on the deck of the Roman Galleon Aphrodite, leaning against her teak starboard railing, and listened in fatalistic silence as the cannonball hissed menacingly through the air toward him.
The ball fell into the water some thirty metres away from where Scipio stood. An eruption of salt water splashed over him, and Scipio cursed and flinched despite his best efforts to remain stalwart and nonchalant like a good Roman officer.
“Language, Scipio, if you please!” Colonel Cato rumbled from behind him.
Scipio shot a glance at his new commanding officer. Already the ascetic yet handsome face with its piercing blue eyes was turning away from him as though he considered Scipio barely worthy of his notice—let alone his contempt.
“Suck my mentula, you old bastard,” Scipio muttered at the back of Cato’s head of silver-grey, close-cropped hair. .
“What was that, Scipio?” Cato asked sharply without turning around.
Scipio had to bite back another curse. The old buzzard had ears like a dog’s.
“I said, my apologies, sir,” Scipio responded. “I’m never at my best aboard a ship.”
Cato grunted. “That makes you a typical soldier. Well, if it makes you feel better, we’ll be back on solid ground shortly,” the older man said with an enthusiastic nod toward their destination.
And fighting for our lives, Scipio added silently. He turned his gaze back out over the prow of the ship toward the island that loomed ahead of them—indeed, ahead of the entire Roman fleet. Tiflis. The last remaining Mongolian city—the final stronghold. Of course it would be on a bloody island, requiring the invading Roman army to rely on the navy to carry them through a wolf pack of Mongolian frigates and a hailstorm of cannon fire to get there. And that was the easy part. Like all the other Mongolian cities they had taken, Tiflis possessed high, thick walls; and according to Roman intelligence, it was stuffed to overflowing with Mongolian soldiers. Not just any Mongolian regulars, either—these were the survivors, the die-hards who had chose to dig themselves in on an island fortress rather than surrender to the inevitable. As if that wasn’t bad enough, rumour had it that Genghis Khan himself was there along with his personal troop of bodyguards. They were the best of the best, the most skilled Mongolian horsemen, stone-cold, dedicated killers to a man.
So. All the Romans had to do to finalize their victory in Mongolia was storm and capture this seemingly impregnable fortress, overcome the most skilled and seasoned veterans in Khan’s army, then find and capture the Mongolians’ immortal leader himself.
Scipio shook his head and sighed desultorily. Another cannonball flew overhead. He didn’t even flinch this time. If the Mongolians manning the cannon would just improve their aim, they’d be saving him a lot of trouble.
The heavy iron ball splashed in the water about twenty metres to the port side of the Aphrodite. As some of the sea spray it stirred up rained upon Scipio’s face, he heard the deck boards groan as if complaining about some unwanted weight they had to bear. Scipio turned and saw the hulking form of Sergeant Necalli standing beside him at the gunwale. The big Aztec grunted desultorily.
“Mongos aren’t fond of company, are they, sir?” he said, understating the situation as usual.
“Not ours, anyway,” Scipio replied.
Necalli glanced over his shoulder at Colonel Cato. “Maybe they’ve met him before,” he muttered under his breath.
Scipio chuckled softly. The hawk-faced, aesthetic older man seemed competent enough, but exuded very little warmth. Perhaps it was those cold blue eyes? No, the man’s personality was as frosty as midnight in winter. It made Scipio doubt that Cato cared much for the men under his command; what could he and his companions be but mere means to an end for their new commanding officer? The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
“You’re feeling it too, aren’t you?” Necalli said quietly.
“Feeling what?” Scipio asked in a surprised tone. It wasn’t like the burly Aztec to discuss anything as nebulous as “feelings”.
Necalli shrugged his broad shoulders. “Age. The end of the war. How long can we keep beating the odds?” Another cannonball whistled by and landed less than metres to port, the splash forcing the two riflemen to duck behind the gunwale to avoid being drenched. “They're getting their range,” Necalli said.
And underlining your point, Scipio thought. With the end of the war imminent, Scipio had lately dared, for the first time, to think beyond it. He considered a future for himself... and, yes, for Nara, with Nara. But all it would take to scupper such plans would be one bullet, one cannonball, one stray hoof thrown by a Keshik’s mount...
Scipio and Necalli turned and watched as the Aphrodite’s captain shouted orders to manoeuvre evasively in response to the closing range of the cannon fire. The ever-supercilious Colonel Cato, Scipio noticed, paid the ship’s captain little heed. His cold blue eyes kept staring straight ahead, at the high walls of the island fortress than now began to loom above them, studying the foreboding parapets as if he expected Genghis himself to appear there. The Colonel wanted to bring the Great Khan in chains to Caesar himself, no doubt; he wanted victory above all else.
Scipio just wanted it to be over. In his gut, he feared it soon would be, but not in a way he would enjoy.
Sisiutil
All Leader Challenger
No pictures yet, sorry. I'll try to add some back to this entry when I have them available.
Mosher
Mushroom dad
![[party]](/images/smilies/partytime.gif "Party [party]")
Thanks, Sis!
I'll also name an aircraft carrier after you when it comes out, just to celebrate.
<sighs>
Oh Well, that chapter was worth an Aircraft Carrier.
DT
Enjoying the Story
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Linkman226
#anarchy
- Joined
- Sep 14, 2007
- Messages
- 2,493
Thanks Sis
Optical
The Fall of the Eleventh
Brilliant! This has got to be one of my favourite updates yet, as well. Perhaps it's just the anticipation... but I don't think so. Fantastic work, Sisiutil!
tR1cKy
taking over the world
glad to see you're back at it
excellent chapter
excellent chapter
MoreEpicThanYou
The most Epic.
DID HE JUST UPDATE?
Sisutil, I worship you as the God of S&T, who has finally returned!
Sisutil, I worship you as the God of S&T, who has finally returned!
SamSniped
DJ Goodboye
Subbed.
Yoshiegg737
Jungo Jungo
SouthernKing
crickety cricket
Great job!!! 
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