stNNES7: Worlds and Empires
- Thread starter North King
- Start date
Oruc
Reactionary
Cuivienen said:
i hope valiant syrians repel the evil Armenian hordes
Oruc
Reactionary
Cuivienen said:
you do realise i caused the civil war myself? it was actually apart of my orders ( course it wasnt just "start civil war", i had some backstory, but north didnt mention it)
Oruc
Reactionary
Cuivienen said:
fine be all clever, see if i care.
i did it for fun, alos ive been meaning to fight a civil war since azales fresh start nes where i was England but the nes died, so ive been waiting for the oppurtunity to strike and lay seige to my cities when i least expected it, luckily i caught myself unawares.
edit: i had a better reason for fighting a civil war in azales nes tho
edit+: it wasnt witty it was deeply scathing personal attack on everything i hold dear, it left deep emotional scares that may never heal. (in others words im bored)
das
Regeneration In Process
Cuivienen said:
As I actually wrote a story this time, I hope so.
IC:
This winter was particularily rainy. Severe rains turned the already-unperfect roads into rivers of mud, in some spots resembling quick sand. Mostly it wasn't as bad, but this greatly hindered the Armenian army and its supplies.
But where a huge army bogs down, one man can go quickly. Against the rain, with his feet often sinking in the mud, this man rushed southwards. He knew no rest for several hours. He knew many good hideouts, but he could only allow himself the luxury of rest when he was far from the Armenian reach. The hayq, as they called themselves, were winning. This man was a messanger, a bearer of bad news.
Very bad news.
---
The mood in the fortress was very somber. Although some victories were scored in Egypt and Hejjaz, the news from the north were yet to arrive. Uncertified rumors spoke of the complete destruction of the Armenian state, whilst others claimed that the Maluk was crushed immediately, like a bug, by the fury of the demonic hordes.
Though some didn't call them demonic now. General Dafyd, charged with coordinating the southern campaigns ever since the succesful retreat from Mesopatamia, sighed. The spirit of the Syrian nation was still strong. But slowly, steadily, the stream of traitors grew.
He needed news. He needed them fast. Any news were better then this uncertainty, then this ignorance.
Or were they?
---
On the eight day of his journey, the messanger has arrived at the fortress. It was a well-camouflaged one, and without previous knowledge one would not have noticed it. The messanger, however, was aware of its existance very well.
He said the password, and guards came out, and led him up the stairs. He pondered, as they went through the darkness towards the heart of Dafyd's stronghold, if he could have climbed up the fortress himself. Maybe he could have, when he was young.
Now, he wasn't. But he didn't regret his old age. He lived a good life, and outlived many Maluks. He knew many beautiful women, and he saw many wonderful lands. He fought many enemies and helped many friends. He killed and spared, he injured and healed, he decided the course of a great battle and he killed a pretender to the throne. He carried out most of his duties before the Malukate.
He had one more duty, one more obligation left, and after that his life would reach a just ending.
Danval needed to die for the Malukate. For the Malukate... as there was no Maluk left to die for.
---
The entire room fell silent, as if struck by a lightning. Dafyd would not have been surprised if it would have been struck. For now, the Baal was no longer with them.
He suspected this, and by the expressions on the faces of his priests, generals and buerocrats everybody did. The Maluk was dead, said Danval, the shaleh who travelled all the way from the ruins of Ani. He died in battle. The Syrian army was broken. The Armenians were on the march. Antioch was in their hands. There were nearly no forces left in the north. Hanno took over those who remained, and was doing his best to salvage something there, but even if he succeeds... one shouldn't expect miracles. All this Danval said calmly and passionlessly. With cruelty, he bashed all their hopes by telling them... the truth.
The first one to speak after several minutes of shock was a priest, Ishuley.
"What will happen now?" - he asked with a trembling voice. That was the question in everybody's mind.
---
Danval, too, knew not what will happen now. He was only barely retaining the facade of impartiality. And even this he managed only due to having many days to reconcile with this truth. The truth that all of his labours were for naught. The truth that Syria... has fallen.
Or has it?
---
A few more minutes of silence came after the priest has spoken. Dafyd tried to concentrate, but caught himself looking at the expressions on the faces of his "retainers". They were honour-bound to follow his orders by an oath to the Maluk. But the Maluk was dead. What were they thinking? Which one of them is planning to collaborate with the Armenians? Who will try to create his own kingdom? And which one of them will kill him, Dafyd?
Everybody was waiting for the others to start speaking, but it seemed to Dafyd as if they were waiting for him and only for him. But what did they expect of him? There was no Baal in him.
And neither was HE in anybody else. The priests assured him of this. Eventually, ofcourse, a new Maluk will come (right?). But until he does...
...who will be in power?
---
Danval was studying the faces of these people. They were... the Syrian government. They were organized, organized under General Dafyd. Theoretically... they can save Syria, if they work together and continue to be on Dafyd's side.
But they would not. Without a Maluk, the system will lose all coercion. They will bring down Syria with their petty rivalries... Danval closed his eyes. He was the only one here, perhaps, who did not want any power, not because of the responsibilities but because of... lack of ambition. He had only one ambition left, to die for his country... but he was not sure that his country will outlive him by much.
If at all.
Something needed to be done.
---
"We all know that there is no successor, as of yet." - said Dafyd. He spoke first, after all. He wanted the suspence to end - "We have no time left for rearranging the government, for looking for the new Maluk... The Armenians, as you know, besiege Damascus. When they take it, they will proceed to conquer the rest of Syria. We must face the truth - we stand little chances against them.
But we must try! We are the Baal's chosen people, yet somehow we lost HIS favour. But it will return, surely, if we impress HIM with our courage. We must do our best to resist the Armenians. And if we are to as much as try to fight them once more, we must agree on matters of importance now.
A body cannot operate without a head, an army cannot operate without a general, a country cannot operate without a Maluk. This we have been taught from our youth. But we have no Maluk right now. All we have... is a government. I believe that to coordinate our efforts against Armenia, we must keep it that way.
Some of you might regard this as my bid for power. No. With power, comes responsibility. I am but an old man, and I would have been only too glad to let this bitter cup of a ruler's burden pass to someone better-suited for it. But for the sake of Syria, I must remain in power. Not because any of you are worse then I am in any way - but because valuable time will be wasted during the reshuffling. And time is the one thing we do not have.
Therefore, we must keep the present arrangement. We must work together to prepare our country for one battle that will decide the fate of all that we have strived for. This is our last chance at survival.
Are you with me?"
It was a bad speech. Dafyd was no orator. But he expressed the sentiment that most people here shared. Which was why they applauded. All except two. One of them was Danval, he just stood there near the entry and looked in front of him. The other one was General Balrush...
---
...he lashed out, taking out a long knife and striking at Dafyd's chest. He tried to strike at it, anyway. Dafyd took out a sword, somewhat taken aback, to stop Balrush. That was useless - Danval already killed Balrush. The general's neck cracked, and Danval was standing behind him. To the surprise of all, the overweight general died in front of Dafyd. Nobody else, even if they did intend it, as much as moved. They were scared into submission.
"Thank you, shaleh." - said Dafyd, quickly recovering from the surprise.
"You are welcome, general." - bowed Danval and walked back to his original location.
There were no more complaints. Dafyd was given power over the entire Malukate.
---
He was the supreme ruler. He didn't want this, honestly. But here he was, in charge of the greatest empire in the world.
He would not have accepted this position had it not been such a moment. As it was, Syria was doomed. All that blood spilled on the altar of Empire was for nothing. All the sacrifices, all the sweat, toil and tears... for nothing. Destroyed by Armenian scum.
Dafyd was very pessimistic, but he was determined to do his best to save Syria. Or rather, to make its conquest as painful for Armenians as possible.
"Let us not listen to their "reasons"!
Let us take up the spear and sword!
And let us teach the foul heathens
On how the Syrians leave this world!"
"They leave this world fighting, fighting, killing and dying." - said Dafyd, his heart filled with a grim determination. Syria was doomed. But it will be immortalized by what he wanted to do.
He wanted one final battle. He told everybody that it would be "decisive", not "final" - if they win, they will have to fight a few more battles after that, perhaps. But the odds were weighed heavily against him. Very well then... Syrians will go down fighting, and the Armenian mothers will be scaring their children with "Malukists". Centuries will pass, and Syria will be remembered.
And maybe this last stand of Syria will inspire many rebellions to come, that will one day succeed. Maybe.
The days passed by, lost in the burden of absolute rule, as Dafyd organized the creation of the Center-Army. Syria was running out of people. But there still were some reservists, some veterans, some of the newly-liberated peoples in the south... And the superior Syrian military tradition allowed Dafyd and his supporters to rally an ever-growing army. The last stand army.
---
Who was this Dafyd?
Danval was never in particular interested in internal politics or in the military buerocracy. But now that he has contributed to Dafyd's rise to absolute power, he felt the need to know whom he trusted the Malukate.
And what did he find out? Not much, really. That is to say, much biography. Not much of a knowledge of Dafyd's personage.
Dafyd was a Syrian, with some Phoenicean blood. He fought in Hejjaz, he rose in rank. He commanded a part of the Syrian army at Damascus. Eventually he was given command in the north, where he fared quite fine, winning in a few skirmishes. He invaded Mesopatamia, faced adversity but nonetheless made progress. His troops suffered from heavy casualties, though not as heavy as one might have expected given their circumstances. Dafyd assisted the Maluk to a certain degree in withdrawing from Mesopatamia. After that - essentially a regent, a placeholder for the Maluk in Damascus. Later moved to this fortress when he was persuaded by his advisors that Damascus had no chances of holding out.
A competent commander. Some organizational talant. Nothing outstanding... or was it a genius that was about to be revealed when under extreme stress?
Regardless, he was in power. Danval remembered the battle in Armenia, the Battle at Dvin, where the Maluk died. This mustn't happen again.
That was why he asked Dafyd to employ him as a bodyguard the other day. Dafyd, still remembering the death of Balrush, gladly agreed.
Well then, thought Danval, now I have someplace meaningful to die for the Malukate in. I have an objective, a man whom I must protect. So I will.
---
Day after day, night after night, with only scarce minutes of sleep, Dafyd organized Syria. Troops were brought in, military reorganization occured, new troops were drafted, additional conscription was introduced. Dafyd was certain of doom, otherwise he would not have put the entire treasury and then some into this.
Finally, the army was assembled. Reserves were prepared. As Dafyd and a few others travelled to the southwest from Damascus, studying the potential battlefield (Dafyd insisted on seeing it himself), an Armenian envoy rode towards them, flying a white flag.
His name was Bagration. When news of Dafyd's takeover in Syria and of the miracilous survival of the Malukate in spite of the absence of any Maluk reached Ninneveh, the Emperor, in his unlimited wisdom, decided to try and negotiate in order to avoid more bloodshed. Fair, very fair were the terms! Perhaps even too fair, Bagration thought.
"The city of Antioch, and the northernmost reaches of Syria as well, and all the lands you still hold in Armenia are to be ceded to Armenia-Assyria. In return, we will give you back the lands near Damascus, and all the lands we hold in Syria that we did not ask you to return. And I advise you to accept those fair and just terms, for this war seems to be getting meaningless."
Dafyd looked at the envoy with an odd contempt, as if at a disgusting little worm.
"The only peace that I will accept is a one where every Armenian leaves all the lands that once were those of Syria. And in return, we will give you back your Armenian lands, and will let your forces leave our country alive." - said Dafyd. A part of him screamed with despair at this - those WERE fair terms, much better then anything that he expected, a genuine chance to save Syria. But there wasn't much of a Syria left to save, unless a great victory is won. It was too late to turn back now. Even if the Armenian had accepted his counterproposal, Dafyd would probably not have ended the war.
Bagration looked at Dafyd, taken aback. MADMAN! This is an entire nation of madmen, as Bagration remembered (he had fought at Damascus), but surely they weren't as insane as that! Bagration didn't know what to say.
"Well then, there is no peace!" - he finally shouted and jumped on his horse again, riding as fast as he could back to Ninneveh. This damn nation... he sincerely hoped that the Emperor will kill these madmen to the last of them. Leave no man, woman or child alive. Yes, yes, thought Bagration. He was determined to persuade the Emperor in the need for depopulating Syria altogether and replacing those madmen with industrious Armenians.
"There goes our last hope." - quietly said Dafyd to Danval. He was used to confiding his thoughts to the usually-silent bodyguard.
"As long as Syrians live, there still is hope." - retorted Danval.
---
...and finally, the day came. The Center-Army built before Dafyd. Followed closely by Danval, he walked before the silent ranks of the Syrians. They, too, were determined to drag down as many infidels with them as possible.
Spearmen, swordsmen, archers, camels, horses, elephants, oxen... The great army was like an ocean.
The Armenian one was bigger. But did it have the same morale?
Along with the regular forces, there were also the dark-faced fanatics. Peasants, citizens... all those were the ones particularily inspired by the Syrian spirit, by the zeal inherent in the nation. They took up arms when Syria was invaded. Since then, they became a vital part of the army.
The regulars could be counted on most of the times. But even they have limits. Fanatics? Those will fight to the death. And they will not die easily, neither.
Those were the last warriors of the Malukate, thought Dafyd. Yet as with any SYRIAN army, they still looked magnificent. Not in the pompous ways of many other nations - no, they were magnificent in their simplicity. These were the defenders of Syria.
Soon, most of them will be dead.
Line after line... conscripts, volunteers, slaves... All today were at one with each other.
This was their religion, suddenly thought Dafyd. Malukism, the Baal-Maluk, even Baal HIMSELF... all those things were merely symbols. Their religion was Syria, their ruler was Syria, their god was Syria. Syria was not dead - it was suffering, it was wounded, it was being enslaved. Its sons now amassed to save it, but they were doomed from the start. Yet others would come. Syria will never surrender. It will attack her captors again and again, bringing down their petty empire, and it will rise again.
Dafyd suddenly realized that he forgot his speech. He thought... and decided that many words were not needed.
He stood, facing his army; his adjutants were ready to repeat his words, again and again. Their task would be easier then usual today.
"Syrians!" - he said - "Today is the day of battle, of battle for Syria. Perhaps here we will meet our end. In that case, let it be such an end that it will never be forgotten. This is the battle where we will become immortal."
Cuivienen
Deity
- Joined
- Nov 26, 2003
- Messages
- 8,011
Okay, I think people have been misinterpreting what I meant by my signature. I'm not touting my victory over Babylon nor expressing my confidence that I will defeat Syria. Rather, the signature is supposed to elicit question from those who don't know what an NES is but wonder about this "Armenia-Assyria", click on the link and find themselves enthralled by one of NK's best updates and convinced to join an NES immediately. I'll be changing it with news for each update, though I plan to relate it to Armenia each time. (Alex could do one from Shu's point of view, Xen from Ravenna's, etc.)
conehead234
Braves on the Warpath
Hawaiian orders today.
I remember I put up a 'rambling maniac' america-hating sig. during the worst of StsGNES 1.2 to decry my American counterpart before the world went down in flames. Yeah, it was propaganda - yours looked like it too, but in a more graceful style, a better prose. 'Join a NES today!' yeah it works. I'm going to reread it, I never follow on what happens in outer schmeckdonia 
'A' NES not 'an' NES bt. way.
'A' NES not 'an' NES bt. way.
Jason The King
Deity
I love ur stories, das.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Yeah, if you want an update, better send them in the next 24 hours.
Oruc
Reactionary
Secret writings of Lashan, High Priest of the Helmite faith
The Future of Iberia is in my hands I shall lead it down the path of prosperity and power, I created this religion their was no vision, no divine calling, just a tool to unite these people behind me. I was immensely fortunate that Asmodeus was so weak minded that he believed my stories and the myths I had built up around it, fooling the masses was one thing but a great leader such as Asmodeus? Obviously the stories I had been told of him had been lies.
But he has won many victories against the Balearic armies; he is a good general, It does feel good using one of their own to gain revenge for my ancestors driven from their lands by those foul invaders, at least his sons and daughters are part Iberian.
But he has served his purpose now I have another role for him to play, many shall mourn his death, poisoned I believe, obviously his enemies are too scared to face him on the battlefield.
------}
Iberian Army encampment
The Iberian soldier burst into Lashans tent before exclaiming, High-priest you must come quickly
How dare you interrupt ritual of the endurance Helm had not made his will known to me and now we must begin over said Lashan rising from the foot of the Altar
The Soldier gaze dropped to the floor forgive my interruption High-priest, but I bring the gravest of news, Asmodeus and Sememmon they theyve been poisoned
The smile quickly disappear as the last name was spoken, Sememmon dead? He had not foreseen this, Felipe would inherit the throne now, easily controlled yes, but woefully stupid he needed someone of inspired leadership.
Balearic COWARDS! We cannot let this go unpunished their must be justice
But without Asmodeus or sememmon who will lead the army a random priest spoke up
Gather the men, the crowning of the new king shall begin soon he turned to his follow Helmite priests Transport Asmodeus and Sememmon to Madrid, their will be a formal burial of Helms first chosen one
-----}
I cannot do this now, I have only just found out about me father explained Prince Felipe, still wiping his eyes.
Your father is gone accept it, The People of Iberia are not and they need you, they need a strong leader a man that bring them hope and inspire them to do great things
I am not that man! I am only fourteen how can you expect me to lead an army! My brother was meant for this life not me
Prince Felipe was rapidly pushed through the large crowd of soldiers, none of them appeared to moving out of his way, nor did many of them seem overjoyed at the sight of their soon to be king, perhaps it was because they towered over the puny boy. When they came to the edge of the crowd prince Felipe froze at the sight of the High Priest holding the book of the Vigilance, he desperately wanted to turn back but the priest who had brought him from his tent and through the crowd pushed him forward with a parting comment
You soon will be that man, now GO!
He regained his balance and made his way before Lashan, fresh tears lining his face, he gazed at the Soldiers that would witness him become a king, he did not see hope only contempt and sadness.
Kneel so the ceremony can begin, good, place your hand on the book
After the small pause the he begin the speaking of the oaths.
Do you Prince Felipe swear to guide the Iberian people down the path laid before us by Helm
Yes..I mean.. I do said the prince wiping his eyes with his sleeve
Do you swear to protect the stability of our people and be ever Vigilant and watchful for any threats that may arise
I do
Do you swear to do all that is in your power to spread the message of Helm, The Creator, The Vigilant One, The One True God to all the lands that he wills
I do
Then rise King Felipe may your reign be bring prosperity to our lands and destruction to our enemies
The crowd dispersed quickly there was no cheering for their new king they all knew the boy was a weakling and they all mourned for their fallen Lord the one even Helm had chosen as his messenger, only Lashan Remained behind with the new King Felipe.
I High priest . I fear I will fail you, I cannot lead these men, I can not inspire hope only despair, none of them even cheered for me
Do not worry Felipe I shall help instruct you in your role as king in time you will grow into your role and the people will love you, Helm will inform me of what he expects from you
Thank you, I know I would fail if I didnt have help from a messenger of Helm
OOC: at least my stories are getting better then when i started out nesing.
The Future of Iberia is in my hands I shall lead it down the path of prosperity and power, I created this religion their was no vision, no divine calling, just a tool to unite these people behind me. I was immensely fortunate that Asmodeus was so weak minded that he believed my stories and the myths I had built up around it, fooling the masses was one thing but a great leader such as Asmodeus? Obviously the stories I had been told of him had been lies.
But he has won many victories against the Balearic armies; he is a good general, It does feel good using one of their own to gain revenge for my ancestors driven from their lands by those foul invaders, at least his sons and daughters are part Iberian.
But he has served his purpose now I have another role for him to play, many shall mourn his death, poisoned I believe, obviously his enemies are too scared to face him on the battlefield.
------}
Iberian Army encampment
The Iberian soldier burst into Lashans tent before exclaiming, High-priest you must come quickly
How dare you interrupt ritual of the endurance Helm had not made his will known to me and now we must begin over said Lashan rising from the foot of the Altar
The Soldier gaze dropped to the floor forgive my interruption High-priest, but I bring the gravest of news, Asmodeus and Sememmon they theyve been poisoned
The smile quickly disappear as the last name was spoken, Sememmon dead? He had not foreseen this, Felipe would inherit the throne now, easily controlled yes, but woefully stupid he needed someone of inspired leadership.
Balearic COWARDS! We cannot let this go unpunished their must be justice
But without Asmodeus or sememmon who will lead the army a random priest spoke up
Gather the men, the crowning of the new king shall begin soon he turned to his follow Helmite priests Transport Asmodeus and Sememmon to Madrid, their will be a formal burial of Helms first chosen one
-----}
I cannot do this now, I have only just found out about me father explained Prince Felipe, still wiping his eyes.
Your father is gone accept it, The People of Iberia are not and they need you, they need a strong leader a man that bring them hope and inspire them to do great things
I am not that man! I am only fourteen how can you expect me to lead an army! My brother was meant for this life not me
Prince Felipe was rapidly pushed through the large crowd of soldiers, none of them appeared to moving out of his way, nor did many of them seem overjoyed at the sight of their soon to be king, perhaps it was because they towered over the puny boy. When they came to the edge of the crowd prince Felipe froze at the sight of the High Priest holding the book of the Vigilance, he desperately wanted to turn back but the priest who had brought him from his tent and through the crowd pushed him forward with a parting comment
You soon will be that man, now GO!
He regained his balance and made his way before Lashan, fresh tears lining his face, he gazed at the Soldiers that would witness him become a king, he did not see hope only contempt and sadness.
Kneel so the ceremony can begin, good, place your hand on the book
After the small pause the he begin the speaking of the oaths.
Do you Prince Felipe swear to guide the Iberian people down the path laid before us by Helm
Yes..I mean.. I do said the prince wiping his eyes with his sleeve
Do you swear to protect the stability of our people and be ever Vigilant and watchful for any threats that may arise
I do
Do you swear to do all that is in your power to spread the message of Helm, The Creator, The Vigilant One, The One True God to all the lands that he wills
I do
Then rise King Felipe may your reign be bring prosperity to our lands and destruction to our enemies
The crowd dispersed quickly there was no cheering for their new king they all knew the boy was a weakling and they all mourned for their fallen Lord the one even Helm had chosen as his messenger, only Lashan Remained behind with the new King Felipe.
I High priest . I fear I will fail you, I cannot lead these men, I can not inspire hope only despair, none of them even cheered for me
Do not worry Felipe I shall help instruct you in your role as king in time you will grow into your role and the people will love you, Helm will inform me of what he expects from you
Thank you, I know I would fail if I didnt have help from a messenger of Helm
OOC: at least my stories are getting better then when i started out nesing.
das
Regeneration In Process
No, I know what you meant, no misunderstandings here. Just that I noticed it when I was about to post my story.
Good idea...
Oruc
Reactionary
how do you add a link in your sig? but with the sentence thing
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