Ramses, the Greatest Egyptian General

god of crows45

Guitar Guru of the Wild
Apr 5, 2007
Plutocracy of New Atlantis
Hey, this time, I actually started a story that I intend on finishing.........


Year: 1829
Place: A small cottage on the banks of the Corazone Verde river, near the tiny Spanish hamlet of Mallorca

Sebya Moreno, a half-Egyptian half-Spanish women who was in her early twenties, had been in labor for 13 hours. The midwife and the local physician had almost given up when they saw a head. The midwife reached in and took hold of the small head, while the physician took hold of a small Persian towel. 23 minutes and 42 seconds later, Andrew Paul Moreno, later known as Ramses the Great, was born. His father, Raoul Moreno, a lieutenant in Isabella's Holy Hindu Army, couldn't have been any happier.

12 years and two months later....

Andrew was out in the forest near his home with his friends, Rodrigo and Diego. They were all pretending to be riflemen in Isabellas army when disaster struck. The sound of gunfire could be heard echoing around them. The three of them sprinted out of the forest as fast as they could. When they came out, the sight they saw could have been comprable to a horror movie.

The hamlet of Mallorca was burning. Cavalrymen could be seen scrambling about the ruins of the once sleepy little hollow. Women and children could be heard screaming, men were dying, and houses were burning. Andrew looked on in shock. His friends were crying as they stumbled towards their old home. Three cavalrymen rode towards the two children, their bloody gloved hands reaching for their swords. Rodrigo looked up at the cavalrymen, screamed, and fell with a swift slice of the mans saber. Diego was next to go. Only Andrew survived. He ducked behind a small merchant cart that had overturned in the fight. The cavalrymen that had slain his friends had ridden off. Andrew crept across the small road into the village. He silently walked towards his house, and saw that the enemy soldiers had uprooted it, presumedly searching for his father. Andrew walked into his house, searching for his mother. He found her body in his former room, a sword sticking out frmo her back. The identity of the enemy was finally revealed to him in the make of the sword, with an odd hilt and small curve at the edge of the blade. It was an American sword.

Andrew ran to his room. He grabbed his hunting sack and placed a photograph of his family in it, along with 500 pesos, a hunting blade, a bow and arrow, some food, a small pistol with some ammo, his grandfathers watch, his fathers rifle, and last but not least, all the memorabilia from his family he could find. He crept out of his house, pistol in hand and sword at his hip. He wiped the soot from his face and trudged, tears blurring his vision. He heard someone shouting in American, and he quickened his pace. He stopped dead in his tracks when he was stopped by a cavalry officer.

"Oi, you, kid! What are yer doin' up in these parts?" the man said in a gruff voice.

"Um, I have to go to the next town and this village is on my route," said Andrew in perfect American (which is a language that is almost a carbon copy of English, but with slang, in my story).

"Well, what do ya sell kid?" inquired the soldier.
"Various trinkets and food," replied Andrew.

The conversation continued in this manner until the soldier let Andrew pass on. The boy quickly walked on in the direction of the Egyptian border, hunting sack on his back and pistol in his overcoat.

Three weeks later

The boy had been traveling for three weeks now, and it showed. He had stopped by a small camp that housed elephants, and stocked up on elephant beef and Spanish rice. He was now resting and fishing on the shores of El Lago de Sheba. He made camp there and stared at the beautiful Spanish canyons and mesas. He made a silent prayer to the Aztec god, Jesus, the Christian prophet who obviously fulfilled more prayers than his own Hindu gods. He prayed that the Spanish army react to the atrocities that the Americans inflicted upon his home. He stayed up a little longer, only to watch a mother gopher play with her young, then went to sleep.

The next morning, Andrew gathered his belongings and headed east, towards the Gong of Confucius Mts. near the Egyptian border. The following weeks were uneventful, filled with marching, hunting, praying, camping, and sleeping. Then, something remarkable happened.
Will post something new soon! someone plz comment though. criticism makes stories great! :D :D :D

Finally, at long last, the boy destined for greatness made it to Egypt. He headed towards the first house he saw. The people there looked at him strangely and asked him where his parents were. Andrew stifled back tears as he told them his entire story, about the village, his journey to Egypt, and his inner emotions. The people immediately took him in and adopted him. He was then renamed Ramses Menes Sedin Khufu. The people that took him in was General Khufu and his wife Neva.

Three years later.......

Ramses was growing up fast. At fifteen years old, he already knew nine languages; Spanish, Egyptian, American, Malinese, Russian, English, Roman, Greek, and French. His parents were proud of their son. He was getting high marks in all of his courses, especially tactics of war class and civics. He wrote a paper describing why the Exalted Leader Hatshepsut should abandon communism and take the example of Rome and adopt a system of Democracy. The head of the school board in Bubastis sent the paper to Thebes, and Hatshepsut herself sent a letter of recommendation to all the universities in the Egyptian Federation.

wat will happen to this prodigy next? find out next post!!!!!!!

Ramses grew more intelligent each day, spending his days studying in the Bubastis library and maintaining his health at the local gymnasium, where he participated in the American sports of football, baseball, and boxing. He honed his swordfighting skillsat the barracks, where the cavalry officers taught him different strikes and parries, all of which would save him one day. Khufu, his father, spent many long nights teaching his son all of the ways of becoming a great general. Ramses was extremely interested, however, in the art of actual combat. He drew out many battle plans, detailng formation shifts and soldier positions.

Three years later

Ramses was now eighteen and was about to join the People's Army of Egypt academy. He left many memories in the eyes of his peers, especially the female ones;) . Alas, the train headed to the military academy in Elephantine was about to leave and it was time for goodbyes. His mother hugged him tightly to her chest, while his father gave him a warm handshake and a brief pat on the back. Ramses was feeling nauseous, mainly caused by the deja vu he was experiencing. He had the same sack on his back, the same expression on his face, and the same feelings. He walked up the steps to his carriage in the train, looked back at his mom, a former model who still had her natural beauty, and his dad, a retired general and current priest, and waved goodbye for the first time......................................................................
I like your story but I would like some pictures of some kind. =) Keep up=)
to Giwi: my computer sucks, and won't let me download JPEG FILES


The one thing that surprised Ramses the most about Elephantine was the cultural diversity. Instead of having a monotonous population, like his home in Bubastis, the people consisted almost hardly any Egyptians, with large districts called Little Madrid, Little Washington, Little Rome, Little Timbuktu, Little Kyoto, and the largest foreign community, Little Sparta.

Elephantine was split into several other large districts, the Religious district, the Tech district, the foreign district, the uptown district, the downtown district, the Redlight District ;) , the harbor district, and the market district. He was in a small apartment in the inner cluster of homes in the foreign district on the border of Little Washington and Little Sparta. He had a roommate by the name of Shekel, a Jewish man who was also his classmate in several of his classes at the academy. Shekel had curly black hair, a small beard, and large brown eyes. He had a deep laugh and a great of knowledge of the culinary arts. He was mainly studying Miliary Psychology, an obscure field in the Egyptian academys curriculum.

Ramses was studying tactics, battlefield diplomacy, and Miliary Psychology as well. His days were filled with his lessons and the occasional conditioning from the drill instructors. After dismissal, he headed straight towards downtown Elephantine, where he hit the saloons with his other friend, Hadio. Hadio was a Japanese immigrant, his parents having escaped the oppressive rule of Tokugawa Lethiartes IX. He was tall for a Japanese person, 6'4 about 220 lbs., with a topknot and small thin strips of hair for a mustache. Ramses enjoyed his company, especially when a drunk American decides to be rowdy.

After hanging out with Hadio, they went seperate ways, Hadio for his hut in the downtown area, and Ramses to the foreign district. Well, it was on one such night that he had a bit of a reality check. As he was walking toward his apartment, he saw a bunch of cocky Greeks harrassing a young woman. Ramses was about to just ignore this (because things like that were common in the foreign district) when the young woman stepped into a street light. She was beautiful, with long brown hair, a petite, yet athletic frame, deep soulful brown eyes, and a melodious voice. Ramses turned around to face the hoodlums, his hand on the pistol in his trousers.
"Good evening, gents," Ramses said in flawless Greek. "You mind telling me what you might be doing to this lovely young lady at this time of night?"

The Greek ruffians just ignored Ramses, continuing to harrass the woman. At this Ramses took out his pistol and fired it in the air. The knaves and the woman turned around to stare at the tall, built, handsome man with a pistol in the air. He pointed it down to the men, wagging it in a disapproving way. The largest Greek lunged toward Ramses, prompting his cronies to do the same. Ramses threw down his gun and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He swung at the men, hitting one right in the temple. He kicked out, hearing the sound of a groan as confirmation of a critical hit. The largest one grabbed hold of Ramses from behind while his lackey came up and hammered Ramses' stpmach with lefts and rights. The young lady snapped out of her state of shock and dove for the pistol. Sha aimed it towards the smaller man's leg and fired. blowing out his kneecap and forcing him out of action. Ramses, seeing the window of oppurtunity rapidly closing, kicked out behind him, nailing the big thug right in the unmentionables. With a groan, the man slumped down and scampered quickly away. Meanwhile, the remaining man was crawling away. Ramses grabbed him and scolded him. He then tied the man up and placed him in a large Roman chamber pot.

Ramses turned to face the young woman. She blushed as he began to smile, then turned and ran away. Chuckling to himself, yet wincing at the pain in his ribs, he walked up to his third story room with a view of the Globe Theatre, showered, ate a small dinner, and went to bed.

He woke up with a start as Shekel waltzed thru the door at five ticks after moon rise (12:30). He had a bottle of Roman ale in his hand and a Spanish cigar in his mouth. Mumbling to himself in Hebrew, he poured his bottle of ale in a silver goblet, toasted to an invisible person, and chugged it down. His yamulke was in disaray atop his head, his neck towel soiled with liquor and his black suit covered in red powder. Ramses shook his head at his roommate. The man had obviously just come back from an American bar mitzah. Ramses shook his head and once again drifted off to sleep.

Ramses woke up early the next morning, just in time to see Shekel climb out of the bathroom covered in water and almost completely nude. His eyes were red from lack of sleep and too much ale. He grunted in response to Ramses curious stare. He got up and completed his normal hygenic duties, finishing off by scrubbing the small toilet clean of wayward vomit particles. He stepped out of the bathroom and got dressed, placing his crisp and starched cadet uniform on polished his cavalry sword. Shekel did the same, only his uniform was wrinkled and his sword had ale splashed on it. Ramses grabbed his satchel and stepped out the door, unaware of what lay ahead.
come on people, comment or critcize. i feel lonely :(

As Ramses stepped out into the glorious Egyptian sun, he heard the sound of gunfire coming from outside the city walls near the academy. He sprinted quickly towards the direction of the acedemy, only to find his fellow cadets mounting horses and his CO doling out rifles. Ramses jogged briskly toward his CO, who threw an old Arabian Scimitar repeating rifle in his direction. He grabbed the weapon and slung it around his shoulders. A horse was trotted out for him. He still had no idea what was going on. As it turned out, the religious tensions that had driven Hatshepsut and her People away from the strict 100% Buddhist Americans had finally boiled over and wound up having the two nations declare war on one another. Ramses' unit was being called to defend the city of Elephantine due to the draft. His CO, a man named Ptolemaeus Vici, gathered Ramses and his comrades to guard the bridge from the AMerican riflemen. An additional group of cannon was being formed while the cavalrymen distracted the invaders from Los Angeles. Ramses placed his hat on his head, recited a quick prayer of protection, and headed out with the rest of the regulars.

General Lawrence Grayson of the 12th elite riflemen brigade coming out of the garrison at Los Angeles looked down at the city of Elephantine with a mixture of lust and hunger in his eyes. His riflemen were the most hardcore, insane, homicidal group of individuals he had ever commanded. Fresh from a victory over a group of demoralized Spanish grenadiers, his mens bayonets were hungry. He stepped down from his post and went back to looking at the construction of his man made bunkers that were encircling the city. If Hatshepsut wanted to insult the Great Buddha, her people would feel the wrath of his holy cannon.

Ramses stepped out of the city gates, unaware of the large shoes that he soon had to be filling. In the distance, he could make out the faint outline of the makeshift Buddhist temples. He could also see the riflemen had dug trenches of their own to combat the maze of underground tunnels that were around Elephantine for the use of her soldiers. Ramses shifted his posture in the saddle, his rifle now in front of him clutched to his chest. He could hear the nervous whispering of his fellow draftees, scared of what would happen to them, the 67th Egyptian Cavalry battalion. He feared for his comrades, especially Hadio and Shekel, both of which were stuck in platoons different from his own. The sun went down, casting eerie shadows over the hills.

Grayson woke up his men. It was time. He grabbed his own Patton 1832 Rifle from its case and loaded it up. He stepped out of his tent and readied himself. It was three ticks after sun down, and the light was completely gone. A circle of lanterns lit up the battlefield and he saw the Egyptians scurrying around the city gate. He lifted up his slightly curved American saber, and brought it down. Rifle shots exploded and lit up the night. The cavalry men quickly mounted an offensive themselves, taking out Grayson's left flank, pinning them down. A main force of cavalrymen charged in Graysons direction. He picked up his rifle as the cannon behind him fired at the cavalry men, kicking up dirt and bodies. Grayson picked up his saber and leaped into the Egyptians midst.

Ramses was scrambling for his pistol as his horse fell forward as a bullet ripped thru both its front legs. He fell off, his body driven headfirst to the soft dirt. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed his rifle. He took aim and fired, knocking down an enemy rifleman. He took cover behind a dead horse, and pulled out his pistol. He looked over the corpse and fired at a rifleman. In response, a grenade fell and exploded six feet away from him. He reacted by rolling toward the front of a trench. He rolled right into the enemy trench, firing wildly and hitting few. He drew his sword and stabbed at the first person he saw. Cannon ripped the ground, men were screaming, and swords were clashing. Ramses saw his CO wrestling with an enemy officer on the ground. All of a sudden, though, opprtunity came and hit Ramses so hard that he couldn't help but seize the moment...............................................
all right, if someone doesn't post something soon, I quit. :) still, can someone say something, suggestions, critics, what u love, wat u hate, anything!!

Commander Ptolamaeus Vici, an Egyptian-Roman halfbreed, was screwed. That revelation proved true when he first layed eyes on the sheer size of the American fortifications. He had woken up that morning with a bad feeling. Now that bad feeling was manifesting itself in the form of a burly American that was pinning him down with a knife inches from his neck. As his strength began to wane and the acrid smell of the American's breath was forced into his nostrils, he became aware of a friendly presence near him.

Ramses grabbed a high-tech American rifle, the Lincoln Repeater, and stumbled forward, a knife stuck in his tan leggings. He grabbed some ammunition and quickly loaded up his weapon. He crept up on the American that was about to kill his commanding officer. He took aim at his neck, and fired, chunks of flesh and spinal cord flew up in his face. He threw the corpse off of his CO and brushed off the flecks of blood from his own face. He grabbed his officers hand, only to find it extremely cold and white. One look at the man's face told him everything he needed to know. He was dead. Quickly, he grabbed the man's coat and cap and put them on. He assumed command in a matter of one minute. Ramses clambered over the trench, falling flat on his stomach in the grassy hillock. He got up quickly, the strain on his leg shooting thru his body like a Chinese fireworks display. He limped towards a horse that was standing still in the midst of chaos. He climbed onto the horse, and called out for his troops. Astonishingly, almost all of his troops were alive, with the exception of about five. He rallied them up and retreated back to the garrison for supplies. En route to the makeshift supply hut, he spotted a man lying on the ground, calling out in Hebrew. Ramses commanded his troops to continue on, leaving his lieutenant in charge.

For the first time in his twenty years of life on his beloved Earth, Shekel du Rheims was regretting something. He regretted the very day that he accepted the offer from West Point, shunning the Jewish monastery in Alexandria and opting to honor his fathers legacy. If he had known that day that he would be lying on the ground outside the Egyptian second capital in a pool of his own blood, he wouldn't have accepted, his father's legacy be damned. But an inkling of doubt crept into his mind. Yeah, he would hve still signed up, wounds and all. If he ever went back home, the look of disdain given by his father would have driven to him to suicide. Well, serving your country was better than suicide any way you look at it. He had been shot by the enemy general, of all people, when the damn fool leapt into a cluster of cavalrymen, sword and pistol drawn. Shekel had taken an errant pistol shot to the ribs, falling of his horse and rolling down a grassy hill. Now here he was, bleeding from a bayonet stab to the chest that happened when some riflemen broke thru the back line of cavalry that was protecting the supply horses. Now he was the last line of defense, with a surplus of ammo by his side. He was firing round after round, his conscious slowly slipping away. He was greeted by a familar sight. Ramses was limping toward him.

"Hello, my friend," yelled Ramses over the din made by the cannon fire.
"Hello, buddy," replied Shekel. His eyes were rapidly closing and his fingers were losing grip on his rifle. Ramses grabbed his friend and carried him to his horse. He lay the man across the horse and mounted it himself. He galloped toward the gate, the sounds of battle echoing across the grassy hills. He quicly made it inside the city and galloped towards the Jewish monastery. He dropped off his friend and headed back towards the garrison. He rallied his re-supplied troops and galloped back toward the battle. Ramses once againled his troops to the trenches, horse and all, but Ramses was looking towards the location of his fallen commander. He finally found him and once again galloped back to the city, this time dropping the body off at Ptolemy's Academy, which doubled as a medical center. He galloped yet again back to battle. This time around, he found his soldiers doing a clean sweep of a certain trench in the center of the battle. As it turns out, his lieutenant had stolen his battle plans from the academy and used them to perfection. Ramses assumed command once again and led his men to victory.

Seven hours and twenty five minutes later.........

Grayson found himself halfway to Washington. The siege was a disaster, with American casualties reaching almost 30,000, while the Egyptians only lost about 15,000 men. Grayson knew he was a dead man. He brushed the long black hair from his eyes that he had inherited from his father, Franklin Pierce, a prominent politician that plotted an uprising against President Washington. Grayson was almost captured by the young hotshot general Ramses Khufu, the adopted son of the great general Khufu. The tall, lanky American general escaped that fiasco with a broken arm, a sword wound in the leg, and a shot by a Lincoln Repeater that blew off part of his left leg. He would'nt be hailed as a hero, like he was in the holy Crusade against the dead Russians. Now, Grayson only hoped for a quick death and a decent cremating. What the only American agnostic and leading religious skeptic didn't know was that some "divine intervention" was headed his way...................................................................................................................................

As Grayson walked into the capitol of Washington, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming feeling of dread and anxiety. He had been patched up two nights prior to this meeting, but was still feeling sore from the errant bullet that hit him in the knee, requiring his leg to be amputated. Somehow, he couldn't help but feel proud of his men, even though their cowardice had forced him into submission and eventually, retreat. His ceremonial uniform, which was completely blue from Egyptian dye and Roman silk, consisted of the traditional suits that Washington XXXXII, the current president of America, wore. He knew that either an excommunication sentence or a dishonorable discharge was in store for him. But, unbeknownst to Grayson, Washington was desperate. His unstoppable stack that led the Spanish Crusades 19 years ago had been defeated at the Battle of Cornhill, in the countryside surrounding Alexandria. His favorite general, Ike Eisenhower, was killed at the hands of some young general the Egyptians had praised at the battle of Elephantine Fields, Ramses Khufu. Washington's only good generals were Lawrence Grayson, Benedict Arnold, Andrew Jackson, and Robert E. Lee. Well, Arnold wasn't getting any younger, Jackson was losing the support of the people because of his numerous losses, and Lee just kept getting shot. Grayson was his only hope for survival.

One hour passed, and finally, Grayson was admitted into Washington's Oval Office. "Please sit down. We have much to discuss." Washington stared hard at Grayson, his blue eyes poking holes thru his body. "Mr. Grayson, I will not lie to you. The future of America seems bleak. One small loss on the homefront, and we'll all be speaking Egyptian and worshipping the political figureheads. Would you like that, Mr. Grayson?"
Lawrence Grayson stared at the man, the seventh most powerful man in the world, and shook his head.
"Hmmph, I thought so. Now, I will not kill you....... yet. You are proving most useful, especially since your outstanding capture of Moscow and Yaroslavl', ending the Russian menace once and for all." A wave of releif washed over Grayson in a satisfyingly warm way. The conversation continued for two more hours, ending with Grayson being granted three armies, a first for an American general in any era. Grayson left the meeting with a sense of dignity and pride. He immidiately headed for the nearest Buddhist temple and converted.

The next day, he gathered all of his men and marched for Egypt once more.
to jrh3000: thank u! someone finally says something good!!!


Ramses shifted in his bed uncomfortably. The previous meeting with Hatshepsut's military advisor had drained him of his vitality and energy. They had gone over the same battle plans that Ramses had drawn in his bedroom all those years ago. As it happened, Ramses' father, Khufu, had sent all of Ramses' former battle plans straight to the Egyptian Military Capital of Heliopolis. Hatshepsut's top brass had reviewed the plans, and quickly adopted them into the Egyptian military textbooks. Now Ramses was in his new lakeside house in the city formerly known as San Diego. Now it was called Pi-Ramesses. The past five years had been a blur, full of battle, diplomacy, and cold marches. He had found the hidden jewel that he saved in Elephantine, the girl, and had married her. She was a Spanish sub-culture, Cuban, and her name was Marie Montenegro. She was asleep next to him.

For months, Ramses had been far from his home. Ramses was planning the capture of the American city of Denver. Denver was about 300 miles away from Ramses' base of operations in Elephantine, and he was leading the march. Unbeknownst to him, a familiar enemy was heading towards him with a Triumvirate of Military proportions. Yes, Lawrence Grayson was back. Although he was strapped to his horse for support and he couldn't walk, Grayson was holding a grude against the man who took his leg. Washington had waited until the right moment to take Egypt. Grayson was surprised when Egypt brought in Arabia and the Japanese Republic against Washington. The two allies with Egypt prompted Washington to bring in his b******, Isabella of Spain, Cyrus of Persia, Alexander of the Greeks, and Mao Zedong of the Chinese Empire. WWI had begun.

Ramses had a quick skirmish in an ivory camp against a small stack of Persian riflemen. Thetos, the other Egyptian general of national fame, was also busy against a mixed stack (the first i've seen in, like, forever; same with the world war. only a few leaders aren't involved like Mansa Musa, Julius Ceasar, and Monty, because Dr. Scully didn't like the snake on Hatshepsut's head! :D ) of Greek cavalrymen, Spanish riflemen, and American Infantrymen. Ramses quickly subdued the Persian stack, and continued for Denver. Along the way, he met up with Thetos, who barely survived the first "allied assault" with 13,000 casualties for Egypt, and 14,000 for the Axis of Treachery. Thetos and Ramses combined armies, forming an army of-- wait for it-- 500,000 infantry, cavalry, artillery, and cannon. The Axis was going down. But for now, all Ramses wanted was some sleep...................

General Soku Famatota of the Japanese Cavalry corp was tired. He had been marching toward Pasargade since God knew when. His Christian faiths had led him this far, and they also kept him alive long enough for two attacks from a Spanish stack of Doom and a successful capture of Susa. Persepolis had been taken by an independent Roman battlion of infantrymen. Rome jumped in because Julius Caesar had a personal vendetta against Cyrus, but he didn't want anything to do with making and breaking history. Rome, however, wasn't allied with the others. So much for the Alliance. Anyways, where was I..? Oh yeah, Famatota. He was traveling next to some Egyptian infantrymen led by some guy named Trigo. Soku had enough on his plate without having to worry about some other general who didn't know how to lead. He had just won a battle against some Greek cavalry and was tired.

Ehhh, about two or three weeks later......

"Quick, reinforce that flank with some riflemen, hurry! You there, send some cavalry down into the fray, but don't die!"
Famatota was frantic. The Persian infantry had just torn a hole into his makeshift fortifications and were almost unstoppable. Combat had devolved into old-fashioned melee, and all of the Japanese general's commands were thrown out the window. He grabbed his Yamamoto carbine rifle and started swinging. His first swing connected solidly into a Persian skull, shattering it and sending bone and cartilage everywhere. He quickly strapped a bayonet to his carbine and slashed at another Persian soldier. A soldier next to him drew his old samurai sword and bagan swinging. Soku couldn't help but smile as all of his troops followed suit. He even drew his own. Meanwhile, the Persians had surprises of their own, drawing twin scimitars and assuming an offensive stance. Then, to add to the dramatic atmosphere, it began to rain. Hard. Soku stared at the Persian standing about six feet in front of him, matching his gaze. The entire battlefield, save for the cannon trading fire and the infantry stifling the cavalry charge, was quiet. Then, with a roar that shook the ancestors, the Japanese attacked. Soku brought his sword down in a savage downward thrust, his enemy parrying at the last second. The sound of steel against steel resonated around the dusty deer camp. The rain was pouring down, and Soku's men were gaining ground. Old medieval warfare took over the battle, as old wounds were ripped open, th ancestors of both nations tearing at each other's throats. Soku was swinging furiously, only to get a parry and a smug grin on the face of his Persian opponent. His comrades up and down the mile long line of fortifications were facing similar difficulty. Soku finally gained an advantage when his Persian counterpart dropped a scimitar, and he drove his samurai blade thru his throat. A fountain of blood gushed out and splattered Famatota's face. He roared as a wave of Persians came up to him, scimitars drawn. He drove his sword into one, having a comrade swing and behead the same one. He was attacked from both sides, and shot his revolver at one, driving his hunting knife in another. Pivoting, he caught one man in the jaw with a swift Shotokan kick, and plunged his knife in his neck. He picked up his samurai katana and beheaded one wounded Persian. His Japanese comrades were keeping pace with him, cutting thru the Persian opposition with ease. More and more Persians were pouring out, desperate to save their beloved Pasargade, home of Islam and the Taj Mahal. Soku sprinted toward the next wave without fear, only remembering the Samurai code his great- grandfather taught him. His blade took control, feeding it's hunger for Persian blood. Famatota became just an incarnation of his grandfather, swinging and killing. After about twenty minutes of bloodshed, Soku Famatota stormed Pasargade.

As the Japanese warriors walked into Pasargade, they were met with more Persians. But, lucky for Soku, his reinforcements arrived, allowing him to take the city and reinforce it. If he survived. There was melee in the streets of Pasargade, with Japanese forces breaking into shops only to find Persian soldiers waiting, swords drawn. The outside road became wet with blood and rain. Famatota was his own unit, taking on multiple enemies and coming out alive. In a matter of hours, Pasargade was his.

The next day, Pasargade was taken in the name of Jesus Christ and his holy emissary, Pope Tokugawa the XXXIV. Soku looked out over the battle scene at noon. Dead Persians and Japanese littered the streets. In the end, about 60,000 Persians were killed, compared to the 36,000 men lost by SOKU THE MAGNIFICENT, as he was known in his home land.

Later on, news headlines proclaimed all around the world that Cyrus withdrew all forces from Egypt, and centered his attacks on Japan. Soku Famatota was given the medal of valor from the Egyptians, and the Medal of the Sun, Japan's highest honor. Persian forces retreated from their fortifications surrounding Thebes, and their navy sailed in the direction of Tokugawa and his favorite disciple, Soku. Tokugawa later had a secret meeting with Hatshepsut, and the two leaders each brought their favorite generals, Ramses and Soku, and had them sign mutual leadership contracts. WWI had just spread into Japanese and Egyptian culture, with many posters promoting the success of the war all over the cities of both nations. However, the war would soon be taking a "turn" (;) ) for the worst........................

Lawrence Richard Grayson, commander of the U.S Army Garrison at Denver, was ready. He had waited for this moment for seven years, and he was gonna enjoy every minute of it. You see, Denver was in control of many resources, including gold, gems, oil, and it was on a coastline surrounded by crabs, fish, and whale. Grayson had sent of a small stack of about 23,000 men out to battle the oncoming Arabian forces, just to bring Ramses right into his trap. Behind the city was about 100,000 infantrymen ready to reinforce the city in case things got ugly. The city itself had a rear detachment of about 300,000 men, so Denver was almost secure.

His plan was coming to fruition, because he saw the Egyptian war banner flying on top of a distant gold mine hill. Grayson smiled as he noticed that Ramses only had about 70,000 men, all infantrymen, with scattered battalions of cavalry and about ten cannon. He felt an overwhelming feeling of euphoria when he saw his arch-nemesis. He still remembered that night seven years ago when his leg was blown off. He was twenty eight years old, the prime of his life. He had been the youngest general in American military history. Now he was thirty five years old, with half a leg and sorrow that could fill a flipping graveyard. Ramses was now twenty-eight, with a beautiful wife and the support of the second most powerful country in the world behind him. Grayson was manning a cannon, ready to shoot it straight at Ramses if he ever saw him on the battlefield. Ramses took his youth, now Grayson would take his life.

Grayson was trying to see behind the wall of smoke that covered his vision. The fighting had started five minutes ago, and both sides had lost no men. His cannon had fired repeatedly at the invaders, but he was holding his fire, waiting until Ramses poked his helmeted head out into the field. Grayson ordered his cannon to aim fully at the tents behind the infantry. He only wanted to scare Ramses out of his shell so he could strike. Minutes passed, and still not one enemy soldier perished. He ordered some of his infantry to go out and take some scrap metal and make small barricades so that they could shoot closer to the enemy.

Five hours later...

Ramses was now running for his life. The battle had taken a serious turn for the worst when his cannonade actually took down the fortifications made by the Americans. Now enemy soldiers were rushing towards the woods into which he was stationed. Enemy soldiers were closing in on his location. He stopped and turned around, firing rapidly at the at anything wearing blue. His bayonet was already strapped on, so he ran right into the enemy, stabbingone in the process. He slashed wildly at the Americans, slitting one in the throat and hitting another in the temple with a rifle butt. He ran in the direction of his fortifications, bravened by the courageous acts from his fellow soldiers. He took control of a cannon and fired at the enemy soldiers that were attacking his men's fortifications. He then sprinted towards his horse, grabbing Egypts banner in the process. He grabbed his cavalry sword and raised it in the air, shouting to his men, "Let's do this not for our country, but for the future of the country!" His men gave a loud cheer, and advanced, not losing any men.

Now Grayson was mad. He ordered some infantry to reinforce the city streets. He also told his cavalry officer to attack the advancing Arabian force from the west. The cannons were now concentrating fire on the reinforcements, but they didn't slow them down. It seemed as though Ramses had some tricks of his own up his sleeve. He got on his horse and rode to the back entrance of the city. He told the Spanish commander leading the American reinforcements to take the city and make sure Ramses didn't take it. The Spaniard nodded and led his men inside the city. Now here came the fun part..................................

Derijh, an Arabian-Egyptian lieutenant under Ramses command, had a bad feeling. He had been studying the layout of Denver the night before and noticed an ivory camp about 87 yards from the city. At first, he thought nothing of it. Now, he wished he had told his commander. A large troop of about 300 elephant warriors stormed out into the battlefield. The infantrymen dropped their helmets in awe of the wondrous creatures. They rampaged towards the Egyptian camp, tearing thru and crushing the infantry. At that point, Derijh wished he had taken his cousins offer to dodge the draft and flee the country in the direction of the peace-loving English. Oh well, he lamented softly as a bullet ripped thru his chest.

"MWAHAHAHAHAHA HAHA!" cackled Grayson as he looked down at the Egyptian infantry. He was glad that he had thought of this before Washington disbanded these troops. As he scanned the battlefield, he noticed that the Egyptian flag was being waved by a cavalry man. Looking closer thru his Persian binoculars, he noticed that the man had large arms and an impressive mustache. His heart began to beat and his palms began to sweat as he realized who it was. Ramses, he thought with a sneer. He left command of the elephants with his lieutenant and headed towards Ramses, his prosthetic limb tingling with anticipation as he aimed his rifle at the Egyptian heroes scarred helmet........................................................


In the meantime, see what you can do to help Julius' situation with Hatshepsut in a side game I started. It's the attachment.....
....You don't like America, do you? 0.0

Personally, if you want critique on the story then:
Decrease everyone else being so evil/maniacal, add more detail, it's short and arubt, and Ramses is turned into what fanfic writers call a 'Gary-Stu'...
It definatly has potential though! =)
....You don't like America, do you? 0.0

Personally, if you want critique on the story then:
Decrease everyone else being so evil/maniacal, add more detail, it's short and arubt, and Ramses is turned into what fanfic writers call a 'Gary-Stu'...
It definatly has potential though! =)

After reading your comment and ooking up 'Gary-Stu, I now know how to write the following post. Thank you very much. Now for all who are pulling for Grayson on this one, you won't be disappointed......


Grayson fired his shot from his perch on the elephant. Time slowed as the bullet ripped thru the air, gravity rippling as it made it's way to its target. All of Grayson's frustrations and bitterness were put into that bullet, perhaps making it especially deadly. THRFF! The bullet made it thru the helmet and lodged itself in Ramses skull. Blood erupted from the wound that was now exposed due to the helmet shattering. Ramses' arms flew in the air, and he slid off of his horse. He fell down headfirst into an exposed piece of iron jutting out into the air, his blood gushing out from that wound onto the iron. His eyes rolled into his skull and he drew a sharp intake of breath, uttering the name, Marie, and finally closed his eyes.

"Oh my Siddartha," whispered Grayson softly to himself. The man that he had been tracking for seven long years was finally dead. Egypt's golden boy was slain. Grayson sat back in his elephant saddle, rubbing his hand down his face, resting on his mouth which he kept covered. His rifle slipped down from his slack grasp, falling down onto the soft leather floor. A flood of feelings washed over him, filling him with joy, guilt(!), grief(!), relief, and the feeling a traveler gets when they finally reach their destination. As he looked out over his perch on the elephant, he witnessed the crow surrounding the corpse. He unhooked the entrance to the elephant saddle and climbed down. He limped towards a horse and saddled it. With one last glance at the city of Denver being wiped clean of Egyptians, he rode off for the distant harbor of Boston.

Washington hadn't smiled in seven years, but now he had reason to smile.

He had woken up that morning with a sense of dread. The paper boy had just jogged by and tossed the paper on Washington's perfectly manicured lawn with a cherry tree in the middle. The American leader walked out onto his front porch and stepped towards the paper. He bent down to pick it up, dreading what it might say. As he grasped it, he felt eyes staring at him. He glanced up and saw that the entire neighborhood of Washington's exclusive hillside terrace community had come out to watch him. He opened the folded paper ever slowly, and finally laid eyes on the headline:


His eyes slowly lit up and widened, the corners of his mouth turned upward slightly, and his body loosened. He let out a joyful yell and leapt into the air. He addresed the crowd, showing them the paper, but they were already clapping. Washington turned around with a sprong in his step and bounded up the front steps of his palatial abode. He leapt up the flight of stairs leading to his room and quickly changed into his formal outfit. He then jumped out the balcony of his room and landed in the soft Persian grass. He got up and sprinted towards his carriage. He ordered his driver to ride to the Ivory House, calling out to his advisors that lived on the road to the Ivory House to meet him in the Red Gardens, a place used for the most joyous of occasions. Of course, his military advisor already knew because he was part of the clean-up crew.

Meanwhile, the still-standing American cities reoiced by celebrating "We Love the President" day, an extremely rare holiday for the Americans. People were dancing in the streets, children were playing, and everyone was happy. Everyone except a certain military veteran.

Lawrence Grayson had bought his ticket and was now sitting in his seat. The ship was headed towards the distant Zen Buddhist lands of England. He had had alot of anger in his soul, and now that the source was dead, he needed a spiritual detox to rid his body of the bad juju residue. So here he was, in a nice peaceful Greek serenity sailboat headed towards the beautiful mountains of England, where he would seek out Buddhist retreats and meditate. A long journey of spiritual healing was in store, and this was the first step. America wouldn't miss him, and he wouldn't miss America, especially his father.
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