Daedwartin
Emperor
- Joined
- Jan 6, 2012
- Messages
- 1,785
LOL Hindu Rome.
[RI] The Epic of Earth
- Thread starter Razonatair
- Start date
Tambien
Theseus, Duke of Athens
I would love to write a segment for you about the nuances of the Hindu faith in this TL, but thats not necesarry I assume. 
How would I go about writing a fanfic?
How would I go about writing a fanfic?Razonatair
Chieftain
I don't know a whole lot about Hinduism beyond overarching concepts, it's the one I've probably studied the least, despite its importance. But I'll probably look into it when it comes time for Rome to step into the limelight. And do as you wish, I'll probably read it, ha.
Lord_Herobrine
Back in the Saddle
Amazing story and writing style so far! It was also interesting to see the current expanse of the civilizations.
Out of curiosity, what world map are you using?
Out of curiosity, what world map are you using?
Razonatair
Chieftain
It's some special map for Realism Invictus, giant I believe.
CocoIsKing28
Slightly less stupid
Bravo, Razonatair. This is truly beautifully written. You're one of the best on this forum that I've seen so far.
Would you be interested in sparing a bit of time to write a chapter in my collaborative story? It would be an honor to have you writing in your great style.
Would you be interested in sparing a bit of time to write a chapter in my collaborative story? It would be an honor to have you writing in your great style.
Razonatair
Chieftain
I suppose I'll consider it, at the immediate moment I'm working on the Epic, been sick with allergies/possible sinusitis the past couple days.
Razonatair
Chieftain
Chapter 3.2: Persia Is Marching
On the banks of an Oasis east of Jerusalem...
A pretty young Jewish girl laughs at Alishan's joke, her gorgeous hazel eyes entrancing the brazen Turkish horserider. Eyes tended to be Alishan's downfall, though it was a weakness not fully understood by his companions, who were more often than not focused on a woman's other assets. Although he was laughing too, he couldn't help but feel saddened by the knowledge that they would soon move on, stopping at the oasis but a few short moments to refill their water skins.
When she regained control of herself, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, she looked up at the imposing and muscular horseman, asking, "So how does one ride such a powerful beast as a horse?"
Alishan chuckled briefly, his mind recalling the fact that no other cultures known to the Turks had yet developed the art, "Well, in our culture, every rider maintains a close relationship with his horse. He feeds his horse, washes his horse, trains with his horse, and so on, until we move as one. The best of us can even perform absurd tricks such as firing our bows nearly upside down, or while balancing and standing on its back." He tapped the bow slung over his shoulder, his shortsword rattling at his waist at the same time.
She seemed impressed enough by his explanation since she was still smiling and had begun admiring Lightning, building up enough courage to place a hand on the horse's side. The woman looked up at him again out of the corner of her eyes, "So how many tricks can you do?"
The Turk's heart skipped a beat at the way she looked at him, "Well, quite a few tricks. I can do far more tricks without the horse too..."
But the sound of yelling and hoofbeats drew Alishan's attention to the east of the oasis, where one of his fellows was storming out of the desert towards them. He was yelling something in their native tongue, but the sound was garbled by the natural winds of the desert, until he finally came close enough to Alishan to declare, "Persians to the East, thousands of them. Definitely an invasion force."
Mesud trotted over, having heard Ela's warning. The grizzled old bat muttered, "Guess we ought to warn the Jews. Get ready to ride to Jerusalem. Alishan, stop flirting with the locals for once." Alishan rolled his eyes and threw a Turkish curse at Mesud, who only chuckled.
Ela made a 'tsk tsk' sound, the horsewoman trotting past Alishan towards Mesud, "Leave the Jewish woman to her fate and start paying attention to your fellow Turks, Alishan. You never know who might be willing." She shot him a sly smile, the kind of smile that always got Alishan neck-deep in trouble. He simply blew her off and returned his attention to the now-endangered young woman.
She seemed concerned as to what they had been talking about in their tongue, as he told her, "The Persians are coming, sadly. If you want to live, I can take you to Jerusalem." He held his hand to her to assist her onto the horse's back, waiting for her answer.
Her fear was obvious, both on her face and in her voice as she spoke, "But, but what about the rest of my family?" Alishan closed his eyes, sighed, and then opened them once more, "I'm sorry, but the Persians will kill the men, rape the women, take anything of value, and then, if you're lucky, spare the women that weren't raped to death. A more likely fate is that anyone left alive will be sold into slavery. My horse can only carry myself and one other. If you want to live, come with me." His hand remained outstretched.
A day's ride later, the three Turks passed beneath the enormous gates of Jerusalem. Mesud chuckled as the crowds parted in front of the horsemen, either in awe or shock at the sight of the riders. The man looked back at his companions and almost spit out, "Damn Jews and their 'prosperity'. Look at this city. Look at these walls! The walls of a prison, I say."
Ela merely shrugged and started waving at the stunned crowds, giving her best smile to the commoners, asking no one in particular, "I wonder if they make their women stay in the home."
"Probably. It's not like the Jews have had to deal with constant barbarian attacks like our people have. Not a shred of character forged through battle among them," was Alishan's reply. He neglected to mention the young Judean woman sitting behind him, arms locked around his waist, head resting on his shoulder.
They made good time to the Palace, passing by the Temple of Roshan (Temple of Arrogance according to Mesud) until they finally arrived at the gates of the palatial fortress. Strangely enough, the gates were open, and a shrunken old man was standing beneath them, leaning heavily on a rotted wooden cane. Yet stranger was that the man was smiling as if he were the grandfather of all three riders as they approached.
Mesud was about to spit out a curse at the man to move, but the elder's hand shot up with such sudden velocity that Mesud's curse caught in his throat. In flawless Turkish, the elder stated, "Restrain yourself for a moment, Mesud, that I might speak in your place. Yes, I know all your names. Yes, I know what news you bring. How do I know these two things? It is because I foresaw them so many decades ago. I am the prophet Roshan, and you are Death's Harbingers. Come now, into the Palace, the King and I have awaited your arrival for far too long."
Mesud looked at the others with a raised brow, then shrugged and trotted slowly after the old man, the rest of the riders following closely behind.
Days later, near the hills just outside Jerusalem...
Davesh walked with Cyrus, one man admiring his army, the other considering how the trek across the desert had strained and drained the morale of the men. Cyrus had demanded that they take the shortest path to Jerusalem, against the arguments of Davesh that the army march north and then south, skirting Syria and then sieging Jerusalem from the north.
But Cyrus was King, and the King's word was law. But no law could keep contempt out of the eyes of Davesh's and the other leiutenants' men. Davesh could smell mutiny in the air. Needless to say, he didn't sleep well anymore.
A scout suddenly came running up to them, panting, "Jews... Egyptians... Waiting in the hills... Massive army." Rage turned Cyrus's face a tomato red, and, in less than a second, Cyrus drew his sword, driving it into the scout's skull. The King pulled it out of the lifeless body before it hit the sand, wiping the blood off on a rag as he declared, "Full march forward, we will meet them in battle." Davesh was stunned for a moment, but knew better than to argue with the man right now as he gave the order.
The next morning, as the hot desert Sun rises in the east, the battle had begun in earnest...
But the riders would have none of it. Mounted, they watched the events unfold from the safety of the hills. The Judeans had been sent in first, sadly, to soften the Immortals up. They had already been almost totally wiped out, barely scratching the Persians in the process. Jordan was riding behind Alishan once again, clutching him tightly as she watched her people be massacred by the Persian meat grinder.
It was then Mesud snorted, "Why are we watching this battle? What difference will it make to the homeland?" Ela told him to shut up, Alishan saying with a shrug, "Well, it determines which power reigns supreme. Will it be Egypt, or Persia? Either one could eventually threaten the homeland."
Soon, the Egyptians began marching in, with heavy casualties on both sides. It would seem to the Turks that the Judeans had softened the Immortals enough, but as the battle was dragging on, it was quickly becoming obvious that the Egyptians were bleeding numbers far faster than the Persians. As the Turks watched, they couldn't help but feel that the army would break and run soon, giving Persia an official, though bloody win.
Jordan's face was covered with tears as she buried it in Alishan's neck, whispering, pleading to him, "Can't you do anything, Alishan?" He frowned as he considered the situation, wondering if there was anything, until a thought occurred to him. A moment later, he lowered a startled Jordan to the ground and smiled at her, "I can do a trick, gorgeous. A special trick just for you, okay?" She didn't seem to understand what he was going to do as he suddenly took off towards the battle.
He could hear Ela screaming that he was a fool, though Mesud was oddly quiet for once. It was a crazy thing, the trick he intended to do. It was likely he would die, but it was the least he could do for Jordan. Part of himself called him stupid for risking his life for a woman he met only days before, but if what Roshan told him was true, then Jordan was worth the risk.
In the Persian command group...
The Egyptians were down to their last few men, primarily archers, trying to break the Persian resolve before their own crumbled. Davesh knew they would break before the Persians did, but this victory would be bitter sweet at best. They had already lost easily over three quarters of their army, far from what was required to siege Jerusalem, but Cyrus, that bastard, wouldn't give up. Davesh could feel his veins boil as his men fell, as he barely kept himself from drawing his sword and dueling Cyrus right then and there. But he wouldn't have to.
Hoofbeats drew the attention of the men to the left suddenly, as they were entranced by the strange sight of a man standing atop a horse. A galloping horse, at that. And he had a bow... With an arrow drawn.
Davesh spent the next two seconds failing to hear Cyrus's demands to shift the men to defend him. Some of them moved slowly to stop the horseman, but then the pair shifted, circling the group for a moment. It was a thing of beauty, thought Davesh, a stroke of genius. The man's height, combined with the horse's height, meant none of them had a chance in hell of shielding Cyrus. All it took to identify the King was his overly lavish crown, his gaudy robes, and the fact that he was screaming in Davesh's ear and pointing at the horseman.
The screaming stopped a moment later as the arrow slammed through Cyrus's skull, shredding his brain, and breaking through the other side to land in the sand. The horseman was gone in an instant as Davesh caught his King's lifeless body and carefully lowered it to the ground. He closed his King's eyes and said a silent prayer to ease his passage.
The next morning...
Davesh felt uneasy under the weight of Cyrus's crown. He made a mental note to have the damned thing melted down, and a new, simpler one forged, once they got back to Persepolis. The men had almost universally chosen him as the next King, with even the other lieutenants holding their tongues. He stood now as King before King David, an elderly twig of a man, but a strangely nice one nonetheless. Next to David stood the Prophet Roshan, both of them smiling from ear to ear.
Finally, Roshan spoke, "So, the terms of the treaty are agreed? Persia respects the rights of Egypt, Judea, and Babylon to live as free peoples? In exchange, those three peoples shall not intrude upon Persia's lands?" Davesh nodded, "Yes, yes. I didn't want the damn city in the first place."
David smiled again, declaring, "Then let this truce last a thousand years, King Davesh. Return in peace to your homelands. We shall allow you to bury your dead or take them with you, it is your choice. Now we must attend to our own. So long." The pair turned and left, their bodyguard following closely behind.
When they were out of earshot, David asked Roshan, "Do you think he'll honor the terms?" The Prophet nodded vigorously, "Yes, Davesh is a man of honor. He'll release Babylon as we have asked."
The King hummed his approval, but they both knew that the next Persian King could easily change his mind. Finally, David asked, "So, I wonder which rider finished Cyrus. Here I was thinking Davesh would be the one to put the Eagle King down." Roshan replied almost dismissively, "It's obvious which one did it. There is nothing a man won't do for those he truly loves. Or, in Alishan's case, would come to love."
David eyed Roshan closely, "How important is Alishan, exactly?" His question merely made Roshan chuckle, "Everyone is important in their own way, David. Everyone has their own tale to tell. His is a tale for another day though." They paused for a moment as Roshan felt a jolt of pain. The pains were becoming more and more common with every passing day as they began walking again, as Roshan sighed and muttered to David, "I feel our own tale is coming to a close, sadly."
David laughed, yelling, "Nonsense! We just sent Persia marching home! Like hell am I going to die today!" Roshan just rolled his eyes and smiled.
On the banks of an Oasis east of Jerusalem...
A pretty young Jewish girl laughs at Alishan's joke, her gorgeous hazel eyes entrancing the brazen Turkish horserider. Eyes tended to be Alishan's downfall, though it was a weakness not fully understood by his companions, who were more often than not focused on a woman's other assets. Although he was laughing too, he couldn't help but feel saddened by the knowledge that they would soon move on, stopping at the oasis but a few short moments to refill their water skins.
When she regained control of herself, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, she looked up at the imposing and muscular horseman, asking, "So how does one ride such a powerful beast as a horse?"
Alishan chuckled briefly, his mind recalling the fact that no other cultures known to the Turks had yet developed the art, "Well, in our culture, every rider maintains a close relationship with his horse. He feeds his horse, washes his horse, trains with his horse, and so on, until we move as one. The best of us can even perform absurd tricks such as firing our bows nearly upside down, or while balancing and standing on its back." He tapped the bow slung over his shoulder, his shortsword rattling at his waist at the same time.
She seemed impressed enough by his explanation since she was still smiling and had begun admiring Lightning, building up enough courage to place a hand on the horse's side. The woman looked up at him again out of the corner of her eyes, "So how many tricks can you do?"
The Turk's heart skipped a beat at the way she looked at him, "Well, quite a few tricks. I can do far more tricks without the horse too..."
But the sound of yelling and hoofbeats drew Alishan's attention to the east of the oasis, where one of his fellows was storming out of the desert towards them. He was yelling something in their native tongue, but the sound was garbled by the natural winds of the desert, until he finally came close enough to Alishan to declare, "Persians to the East, thousands of them. Definitely an invasion force."
Mesud trotted over, having heard Ela's warning. The grizzled old bat muttered, "Guess we ought to warn the Jews. Get ready to ride to Jerusalem. Alishan, stop flirting with the locals for once." Alishan rolled his eyes and threw a Turkish curse at Mesud, who only chuckled.
Ela made a 'tsk tsk' sound, the horsewoman trotting past Alishan towards Mesud, "Leave the Jewish woman to her fate and start paying attention to your fellow Turks, Alishan. You never know who might be willing." She shot him a sly smile, the kind of smile that always got Alishan neck-deep in trouble. He simply blew her off and returned his attention to the now-endangered young woman.
She seemed concerned as to what they had been talking about in their tongue, as he told her, "The Persians are coming, sadly. If you want to live, I can take you to Jerusalem." He held his hand to her to assist her onto the horse's back, waiting for her answer.
Her fear was obvious, both on her face and in her voice as she spoke, "But, but what about the rest of my family?" Alishan closed his eyes, sighed, and then opened them once more, "I'm sorry, but the Persians will kill the men, rape the women, take anything of value, and then, if you're lucky, spare the women that weren't raped to death. A more likely fate is that anyone left alive will be sold into slavery. My horse can only carry myself and one other. If you want to live, come with me." His hand remained outstretched.
A day's ride later, the three Turks passed beneath the enormous gates of Jerusalem. Mesud chuckled as the crowds parted in front of the horsemen, either in awe or shock at the sight of the riders. The man looked back at his companions and almost spit out, "Damn Jews and their 'prosperity'. Look at this city. Look at these walls! The walls of a prison, I say."
Ela merely shrugged and started waving at the stunned crowds, giving her best smile to the commoners, asking no one in particular, "I wonder if they make their women stay in the home."
"Probably. It's not like the Jews have had to deal with constant barbarian attacks like our people have. Not a shred of character forged through battle among them," was Alishan's reply. He neglected to mention the young Judean woman sitting behind him, arms locked around his waist, head resting on his shoulder.
They made good time to the Palace, passing by the Temple of Roshan (Temple of Arrogance according to Mesud) until they finally arrived at the gates of the palatial fortress. Strangely enough, the gates were open, and a shrunken old man was standing beneath them, leaning heavily on a rotted wooden cane. Yet stranger was that the man was smiling as if he were the grandfather of all three riders as they approached.
Mesud was about to spit out a curse at the man to move, but the elder's hand shot up with such sudden velocity that Mesud's curse caught in his throat. In flawless Turkish, the elder stated, "Restrain yourself for a moment, Mesud, that I might speak in your place. Yes, I know all your names. Yes, I know what news you bring. How do I know these two things? It is because I foresaw them so many decades ago. I am the prophet Roshan, and you are Death's Harbingers. Come now, into the Palace, the King and I have awaited your arrival for far too long."
Mesud looked at the others with a raised brow, then shrugged and trotted slowly after the old man, the rest of the riders following closely behind.
Days later, near the hills just outside Jerusalem...
Davesh walked with Cyrus, one man admiring his army, the other considering how the trek across the desert had strained and drained the morale of the men. Cyrus had demanded that they take the shortest path to Jerusalem, against the arguments of Davesh that the army march north and then south, skirting Syria and then sieging Jerusalem from the north.
But Cyrus was King, and the King's word was law. But no law could keep contempt out of the eyes of Davesh's and the other leiutenants' men. Davesh could smell mutiny in the air. Needless to say, he didn't sleep well anymore.
A scout suddenly came running up to them, panting, "Jews... Egyptians... Waiting in the hills... Massive army." Rage turned Cyrus's face a tomato red, and, in less than a second, Cyrus drew his sword, driving it into the scout's skull. The King pulled it out of the lifeless body before it hit the sand, wiping the blood off on a rag as he declared, "Full march forward, we will meet them in battle." Davesh was stunned for a moment, but knew better than to argue with the man right now as he gave the order.
The next morning, as the hot desert Sun rises in the east, the battle had begun in earnest...
But the riders would have none of it. Mounted, they watched the events unfold from the safety of the hills. The Judeans had been sent in first, sadly, to soften the Immortals up. They had already been almost totally wiped out, barely scratching the Persians in the process. Jordan was riding behind Alishan once again, clutching him tightly as she watched her people be massacred by the Persian meat grinder.
It was then Mesud snorted, "Why are we watching this battle? What difference will it make to the homeland?" Ela told him to shut up, Alishan saying with a shrug, "Well, it determines which power reigns supreme. Will it be Egypt, or Persia? Either one could eventually threaten the homeland."
Soon, the Egyptians began marching in, with heavy casualties on both sides. It would seem to the Turks that the Judeans had softened the Immortals enough, but as the battle was dragging on, it was quickly becoming obvious that the Egyptians were bleeding numbers far faster than the Persians. As the Turks watched, they couldn't help but feel that the army would break and run soon, giving Persia an official, though bloody win.
Jordan's face was covered with tears as she buried it in Alishan's neck, whispering, pleading to him, "Can't you do anything, Alishan?" He frowned as he considered the situation, wondering if there was anything, until a thought occurred to him. A moment later, he lowered a startled Jordan to the ground and smiled at her, "I can do a trick, gorgeous. A special trick just for you, okay?" She didn't seem to understand what he was going to do as he suddenly took off towards the battle.
He could hear Ela screaming that he was a fool, though Mesud was oddly quiet for once. It was a crazy thing, the trick he intended to do. It was likely he would die, but it was the least he could do for Jordan. Part of himself called him stupid for risking his life for a woman he met only days before, but if what Roshan told him was true, then Jordan was worth the risk.
In the Persian command group...
The Egyptians were down to their last few men, primarily archers, trying to break the Persian resolve before their own crumbled. Davesh knew they would break before the Persians did, but this victory would be bitter sweet at best. They had already lost easily over three quarters of their army, far from what was required to siege Jerusalem, but Cyrus, that bastard, wouldn't give up. Davesh could feel his veins boil as his men fell, as he barely kept himself from drawing his sword and dueling Cyrus right then and there. But he wouldn't have to.
Hoofbeats drew the attention of the men to the left suddenly, as they were entranced by the strange sight of a man standing atop a horse. A galloping horse, at that. And he had a bow... With an arrow drawn.
Davesh spent the next two seconds failing to hear Cyrus's demands to shift the men to defend him. Some of them moved slowly to stop the horseman, but then the pair shifted, circling the group for a moment. It was a thing of beauty, thought Davesh, a stroke of genius. The man's height, combined with the horse's height, meant none of them had a chance in hell of shielding Cyrus. All it took to identify the King was his overly lavish crown, his gaudy robes, and the fact that he was screaming in Davesh's ear and pointing at the horseman.
The screaming stopped a moment later as the arrow slammed through Cyrus's skull, shredding his brain, and breaking through the other side to land in the sand. The horseman was gone in an instant as Davesh caught his King's lifeless body and carefully lowered it to the ground. He closed his King's eyes and said a silent prayer to ease his passage.
The next morning...
Davesh felt uneasy under the weight of Cyrus's crown. He made a mental note to have the damned thing melted down, and a new, simpler one forged, once they got back to Persepolis. The men had almost universally chosen him as the next King, with even the other lieutenants holding their tongues. He stood now as King before King David, an elderly twig of a man, but a strangely nice one nonetheless. Next to David stood the Prophet Roshan, both of them smiling from ear to ear.
Finally, Roshan spoke, "So, the terms of the treaty are agreed? Persia respects the rights of Egypt, Judea, and Babylon to live as free peoples? In exchange, those three peoples shall not intrude upon Persia's lands?" Davesh nodded, "Yes, yes. I didn't want the damn city in the first place."
David smiled again, declaring, "Then let this truce last a thousand years, King Davesh. Return in peace to your homelands. We shall allow you to bury your dead or take them with you, it is your choice. Now we must attend to our own. So long." The pair turned and left, their bodyguard following closely behind.
When they were out of earshot, David asked Roshan, "Do you think he'll honor the terms?" The Prophet nodded vigorously, "Yes, Davesh is a man of honor. He'll release Babylon as we have asked."
The King hummed his approval, but they both knew that the next Persian King could easily change his mind. Finally, David asked, "So, I wonder which rider finished Cyrus. Here I was thinking Davesh would be the one to put the Eagle King down." Roshan replied almost dismissively, "It's obvious which one did it. There is nothing a man won't do for those he truly loves. Or, in Alishan's case, would come to love."
David eyed Roshan closely, "How important is Alishan, exactly?" His question merely made Roshan chuckle, "Everyone is important in their own way, David. Everyone has their own tale to tell. His is a tale for another day though." They paused for a moment as Roshan felt a jolt of pain. The pains were becoming more and more common with every passing day as they began walking again, as Roshan sighed and muttered to David, "I feel our own tale is coming to a close, sadly."
David laughed, yelling, "Nonsense! We just sent Persia marching home! Like hell am I going to die today!" Roshan just rolled his eyes and smiled.
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