das
Regeneration In Process
Not sure about SG, though in some language it might be appliable. I know SK (=SevKor=Severniy Korol=Russian for "North King") is.
stNNES7: Worlds and Empires
- Thread starter North King
- Start date
Not sure about SG, though in some language it might be appliable. I know SK (=SevKor=Severniy Korol=Russian for "North King") is.
das
Regeneration In Process
Already then I felt trouble. Something went not according to the plan. The Zawtians raised the crates by a small degree, revealing much fruit. Ordinary fruit.
"Is this a mockery?!" - I exclaimed. Fruit! I have plenty of fruit!
Silent, the Zawtians further shifted their oversized crates they only barely carried all the way here.
Emerged warriors; just as I thought. The Egyptians thought that they could kill me. Bah! Immediately, the rugs alongside me rolled, and out came my bodyguards. Other emerged from the darkness in the back of my tent.
"Mitsara!" - cried out the Zawtians, taking out their curved swords and charging at me. They thought they could they could defeat a God. They were many, there was more of them then I had amongst the bodyguards.
Ten of them immediately went for me. The first two I cut down with a fast sweep, the third I impaled on my sword, but that immobilized me while other two came at my sides. Dodging their blows ("See how the warlord dances!" - laughed one of them - "No worse then a trained slave girl."), I pulled my sword out and hit one of them in the stomach, while parrying another one's blow. I then killed both of them, one by one, by severing their heads from their respective necks.
The other five retreated in fear.
But the battle already raged throughout my vast tent. My bodyguards were better-trained, and despite taking casualties they stopped the Egyptians dead in their tracks, often literately. Now was time to push them out. I took out my horn and blew it in a short way, calling for some men from the outside to go to my tent thusly. The enemy must not escape.
At that very moment I got hit by an Egyptian spear. And I knew it - there was poison in it. But I persisted. The God must live. I will not die until I saw Egypt conquered.
Nobody came to block the enemy escape, but either way only few of them managed to flee. I was struck a few more times, but none of those hits were dangerous - at least, more dangerous then what I already survive and the one that will eventually kill me.
Out of the tent I stepped, to see what prevented my warriors from doing anything.
And then I saw it. Out of the chaos in my tent I stepped into the bardach, the pandemonium that raged outside.
It is hard to describe a battle itself, the masses of men clashing with metal weapons, the thunder of their struggle, the flank maneuvers, the rain of arrows, the lead sling bolts crushing skulls... but a campsite battle? A night battle? Even harder. And a night campsite battle is even worse, even though it was still an evening - yet the skies were oddly-dark this day.
So it was. Amidst tents, torches were flying around like a great sawrm of giant fireflies, chaotic clashes took place in the outskirts of the camp. We were attacked, from left and right, by the main Egyptian army.
Overcoming a sudden weakness I rushed to the tent of Ibrahim, my trusted general. I found him there, fighting off two Egyptians, and I killed one of them. He nodded - he clearly did not recognize me, though - and we tackled the last one, hoping to interrogate him.
"Who leads you?" - I asked, placing my sword at the Egyptian's throat. It was then that Ibrahim gasped - he knew the ruby on my sword. He knew that it was I.
The Egyptian shouted something incomprehensible.
"Who?" - I asked in his barbaric tongue.
"The Pharaoh! The Pharaoh!" - he shouted.
The conclusion was obvious. This was their best gambit thus far. The Pharaoh himself came to command the attack that will doom us.
"No time for this..." - I sighed and killed the Egyptian. And added - "Ibrahim! Rally the troops at the right side! We must hold! We must hold for as long as we can!"
And myself I rushed to Oran, whilst Ibrahim ran there, sword in hand.
Oran was a Petrian, he was a good advisor and messanger, in fact he was the aluf-shalih, "General of the Messangers". He also knew the reason I placed the camp in this exact position.
"Oran, as quickly as you could, send the messangers! Do what you must, we need immediate help from the midbaris ("desert-ers", not deserters but rather desert people)!"
Oran nodded, and I again ran, as fast as I could, to take command of the left wing of our army.
There, things were going badly. The enemy was stopped near the army's treasury, but there were too many of them for us to halt them completely. We barely held them back here, but on the right flank our small force was crumbling.
"Hold the line!" - I shouted, again overcoming the weakness. I raised my sword and struck down an Egyptian, cutting his skull in a half - "They shall not pass!"
Egyptians came coming. They had chariots, spearmen, swordsmen... and numbers. We had no chariots - that is, we had chariots, but no time to prepare them for battle. Chariot crews fought alongside spearmen, despite lack of training. Our morale begun crumbling, our forces were losing ground, slowly but surely.
What to do? We must hold the line until the midbaris come.
And then I realized. Yes, the Pharaoh was here, as was I. This was a battle to the death, and I knew that I will die later anyway. I needed to inspire troops with my example - and to hell with it if I get killed. We never lost a battle yet, but we came close this time. This was a decisive battle, in which the winner gets the victory in the war and the defeated loses his army, his war, his empire - and his life.
I charged forth, followd by three bodyguards, we swung our swords as fast as we could, cutting flesh and leather. And for a moment, our troops, inspired by this, too let out a warcry and charged. It was - or would have been - a doomed charge. I was surrounded, and only barely fought off the assailants. My bodyguards were dead. The enemies were closing in on me, though my men still tried to reach me... to save me.
And then I saw it. A new star. A giant firefly in the sky.
An ignited arrow! Coming from the Egyptian positions! The midbaris came! The months of negotiations paid off. They came. Egypt which threatened them once will now be no more.
For the first few minutes, the Egyptians knew nothing of this. But then, a panicked shout spred, a rumor that flew faster then any arrow or any other rumor in fact. And already I heard their yells. The Pharaoh was dead.
And my soldiers, who too knew Egyptian quite well - they too noticed it. And I later learned that in the right wing of our army Ibrahim, who was dying, too noticed a fire-arrow. He too knew its meaning, I told him of it recently. He died, knowing that help has come. The Egyptians were routed by the camelry of our midbari allies. They were forced by us and our allies to a few pockets at the pallisade walls of our camp. They were quite docile by then, and surrendered in large amounts. Only then did I realize that there were many more of us then I noticed during the battle.
On the next morning, the casualties were read. Five hundreds. Five hundred good friends and comrades, many of whom followed me all the way from the Antigonelan Campaign.
---
"From the time of Yusuf Midbari's assassination at Zawty during the conquest of Egypt, it became traditional for the Maluk to be accompanied by a large amount of bodyguards.
Another consequence was the creation of an advanced Syrian messanger system."
- From God's Army: The Warriors of Syria.
---
After that, all went well. It was almost-surreal, as city after city, town after town, village after village surrendered to us as we approached. I overcame dizziness, and I did not permitany physicians to examine me. I knew I was poisoned. But I needed to live.
We marched, marched, marched, until we faced the borders of the Nubian realm. Egypt was ours - we have triumphed.
And then, I ordered the entire army to gather before me. They were tired. But they still were a great army.
And I made my last speech.
"Warriors. Warriors of Syria, warriors of Phoenicea and Petrea, of Upper and Lower Egypts, of the Great Midbar and of Hatti.
You came from different places, yet you all are alike in that you are warriors of the Malukate. You gave your oaths to me, you exchanged the freedom of a citizen or a farmer for the servitude of the army, knowing that warriors who serve me will get fame and glory. Those who are dead - they will never be forgotten, their names will be written down on walls of all cities. Those who still live are already legends in life, for they have never lost a battle.
You asked me to lead you to the edge of the world, you promised to follow me there. We stand here, on the Nubian border. It is the edge of the Syrian world, the human world, beyond it live those who are blackened by the merciless sun and who coexist with the beings unheard of in our land.
There is no army better then that of Syria, which is why it is chosen by the God, Baal, who is me and many others beside. No other army could have conquered such a great expanse of land. No other army could have built such a great empire. Army. What is the difference between an army and a crowd of warriors? Both of them consist of warriors, true, but army is not individualistic. It is an united force, a single organism formed by us all, from the supreme commander to the lowest slave. Force of a crowd of warriors depends on individuals - but individuals are mortal. They cannot be replaced. An army consists of ranks, and those men who form it are secondary. All of us will one day die, in battle or from disease, but there is always more then enough to fill our place.
We, the army, all remember the Battle at Zawty. It was a great, epic, decisive battle, yet we triumphed. But in that battle, I was wounded fatally by a poisoned spear. Soon, I will die. But there is always more then enough people to replace me - both as Baal-Maluk and as your supreme commander.
I will die, and a part of history will end, whilst another one will begin. I ask you this - serve those who come after me well, and remain an army, an invincible army. If you do this, no matter your own opinion of the new ruler and the new supreme commander, then our glory will live on forever. Let it be so, my men. Let Syria be eternal. Let this army, no matter the deaths of individuals, forever reign supreme on the battlefield.
We stand here, my warriors, and yours - OURS! - is a magnificent force. Spearmen, archers, charioteers, bodyguards, officers, messangers, slaves - we all are a force, an united force. This is the last time I see you. And though with time, all faces will change, and so will your tactics, formations and weapons... I will also remember you this way.
The new Baal-Maluk will be Wazik Ahiram, for he will rule the Malukate well and protect it from all foes who will seek to take advantage of my death, and into him will the Baal's spirit enter, and he will become at one with Baal as I am now. The new supreme commander will be Mehmad Yathribi, whom all of you know as a great warrior and capable commander. Accept them..."
They all shouted their acceptance.
"...and make sure all others accept them as well. The messangers were already sent to all cities of the Malukate, announcing my death and the changes after it. Both I and Ahiram know - the time for further conquest is not yet ripe. We are threatened, Syrians. Threatened by Anatolians, by Armenians, by Arabs, by Nubians, by Libyans and by those in the Malukate who seek its downfall. We must ward off all who come, we must crush all the enemies of our glory. Be vigilant for me, Syrians. Guard my empire for me."
And then I died.
---
Death. It is beyond human comprehension, and divine as well as I learned.
I was Yusuf Midbari, and I was dead, I was dead for quite a while as well. I was dead while my corpse was loaded into a galley in a coffin, and when it was transported across the stormy sea to Acre, and when it was carried by slaves into Damascus... and all until my heart was cut out and given to... me. To Baal. Under the sun, it completely died and dried out, and what was left was an empty shell of the heart and an empty shell of the body. I... my soul... was attached to me, Baal, again. And then it left myself, Baal, and flew to the shrine, where I, Ahiram, needed to spend twenty-four hours according to the Syrian tradition.
And my soul entered me. The new me. I was Ahiram. I was Baal. And I reminscened of what I did before I became this new me. Of what Ahiram did during that dream-like experience... of being dead.
Of how I became the new Baal-Maluk after the death of the previous one, Yusuf Midbari, whom I no longer was.
---
When the news of Baal-Maluk Yusuf Midbari's death came... there was shock. Before grief and mourning begun, there was shock, even the cynical Ahiram was shocked for the first few moments after the news came. Yusuf seemed immortal to all, for he died not in all these years. Yet now, he was dead. Somehow, all people knew it - he was dead.
Ahiram knew what this meant. He needed to become the new Baal-Maluk, not only because Yusuf said so... but because it was the only sure way to assure survival. Survival of Syria, and survival of him himself. For otherwise, Syria will fall into decay and will die amidst the wars of succession. Yusuf's children must not inherit. There was no law providing for inheritance in Syria, even though in the old Arabic tribes that conquered it the oldest male offspring was supposed to inherit. Inheritance was, as Yusuf planned it, by decree. The ruler will determine the most capable Syrian that he knew off as his successor. Just so happened that he chose Ahiram.
And Ahiram bloody well intended to make it clear, which was why a Phoenicean rebel killed Tariq Midbari, and why Ilash Midbari was found dead. Suspecting something, Ibrahim Midbari demanded that Ahiram, who, as Wazik, was in disposal of the treasury, shows it to him. Ahiram didn't play outrage, the other nobles did. Ahiram showed him the treasury and accounted for all expenses. Nothing about assassinations. Embarassed, Ibrahim retired. He lost all credility. Secretly, Ahiram smirked. Friends are more valuable then gold, especially if nobody knows about those friends.
Other children were too small to do anything about this.
Only a few others, mostly the nobles dared resist, but most of them either died, either turned out to be heretics and blasphemers, which discredited them.
And finally, even the priests, seeing that the army and the people mostly supported Ahiram, agreed - this WAS Yusuf's last request, not a fake. And thus Ahiram now only needed to go to the Maluk Shrine, to become the new Baal's avator, the new Baal-Maluk. To make sure the process works, the heart, which contained the soul, was cut out of Yusuf's body and the Baal claimed the soul of his avatar for himself. The heart, blackened and dried by the sun over the sacrificial altar, was put back into Yusuf's body and he was buried. Ahiram was exposed to a small ray of the sun under the darkness of the square black shrine, and then it happened. Baal entered him.
"Is this a mockery?!" - I exclaimed. Fruit! I have plenty of fruit!
Silent, the Zawtians further shifted their oversized crates they only barely carried all the way here.
Emerged warriors; just as I thought. The Egyptians thought that they could kill me. Bah! Immediately, the rugs alongside me rolled, and out came my bodyguards. Other emerged from the darkness in the back of my tent.
"Mitsara!" - cried out the Zawtians, taking out their curved swords and charging at me. They thought they could they could defeat a God. They were many, there was more of them then I had amongst the bodyguards.
Ten of them immediately went for me. The first two I cut down with a fast sweep, the third I impaled on my sword, but that immobilized me while other two came at my sides. Dodging their blows ("See how the warlord dances!" - laughed one of them - "No worse then a trained slave girl."), I pulled my sword out and hit one of them in the stomach, while parrying another one's blow. I then killed both of them, one by one, by severing their heads from their respective necks.
The other five retreated in fear.
But the battle already raged throughout my vast tent. My bodyguards were better-trained, and despite taking casualties they stopped the Egyptians dead in their tracks, often literately. Now was time to push them out. I took out my horn and blew it in a short way, calling for some men from the outside to go to my tent thusly. The enemy must not escape.
At that very moment I got hit by an Egyptian spear. And I knew it - there was poison in it. But I persisted. The God must live. I will not die until I saw Egypt conquered.
Nobody came to block the enemy escape, but either way only few of them managed to flee. I was struck a few more times, but none of those hits were dangerous - at least, more dangerous then what I already survive and the one that will eventually kill me.
Out of the tent I stepped, to see what prevented my warriors from doing anything.
And then I saw it. Out of the chaos in my tent I stepped into the bardach, the pandemonium that raged outside.
It is hard to describe a battle itself, the masses of men clashing with metal weapons, the thunder of their struggle, the flank maneuvers, the rain of arrows, the lead sling bolts crushing skulls... but a campsite battle? A night battle? Even harder. And a night campsite battle is even worse, even though it was still an evening - yet the skies were oddly-dark this day.
So it was. Amidst tents, torches were flying around like a great sawrm of giant fireflies, chaotic clashes took place in the outskirts of the camp. We were attacked, from left and right, by the main Egyptian army.
Overcoming a sudden weakness I rushed to the tent of Ibrahim, my trusted general. I found him there, fighting off two Egyptians, and I killed one of them. He nodded - he clearly did not recognize me, though - and we tackled the last one, hoping to interrogate him.
"Who leads you?" - I asked, placing my sword at the Egyptian's throat. It was then that Ibrahim gasped - he knew the ruby on my sword. He knew that it was I.
The Egyptian shouted something incomprehensible.
"Who?" - I asked in his barbaric tongue.
"The Pharaoh! The Pharaoh!" - he shouted.
The conclusion was obvious. This was their best gambit thus far. The Pharaoh himself came to command the attack that will doom us.
"No time for this..." - I sighed and killed the Egyptian. And added - "Ibrahim! Rally the troops at the right side! We must hold! We must hold for as long as we can!"
And myself I rushed to Oran, whilst Ibrahim ran there, sword in hand.
Oran was a Petrian, he was a good advisor and messanger, in fact he was the aluf-shalih, "General of the Messangers". He also knew the reason I placed the camp in this exact position.
"Oran, as quickly as you could, send the messangers! Do what you must, we need immediate help from the midbaris ("desert-ers", not deserters but rather desert people)!"
Oran nodded, and I again ran, as fast as I could, to take command of the left wing of our army.
There, things were going badly. The enemy was stopped near the army's treasury, but there were too many of them for us to halt them completely. We barely held them back here, but on the right flank our small force was crumbling.
"Hold the line!" - I shouted, again overcoming the weakness. I raised my sword and struck down an Egyptian, cutting his skull in a half - "They shall not pass!"
Egyptians came coming. They had chariots, spearmen, swordsmen... and numbers. We had no chariots - that is, we had chariots, but no time to prepare them for battle. Chariot crews fought alongside spearmen, despite lack of training. Our morale begun crumbling, our forces were losing ground, slowly but surely.
What to do? We must hold the line until the midbaris come.
And then I realized. Yes, the Pharaoh was here, as was I. This was a battle to the death, and I knew that I will die later anyway. I needed to inspire troops with my example - and to hell with it if I get killed. We never lost a battle yet, but we came close this time. This was a decisive battle, in which the winner gets the victory in the war and the defeated loses his army, his war, his empire - and his life.
I charged forth, followd by three bodyguards, we swung our swords as fast as we could, cutting flesh and leather. And for a moment, our troops, inspired by this, too let out a warcry and charged. It was - or would have been - a doomed charge. I was surrounded, and only barely fought off the assailants. My bodyguards were dead. The enemies were closing in on me, though my men still tried to reach me... to save me.
And then I saw it. A new star. A giant firefly in the sky.
An ignited arrow! Coming from the Egyptian positions! The midbaris came! The months of negotiations paid off. They came. Egypt which threatened them once will now be no more.
For the first few minutes, the Egyptians knew nothing of this. But then, a panicked shout spred, a rumor that flew faster then any arrow or any other rumor in fact. And already I heard their yells. The Pharaoh was dead.
And my soldiers, who too knew Egyptian quite well - they too noticed it. And I later learned that in the right wing of our army Ibrahim, who was dying, too noticed a fire-arrow. He too knew its meaning, I told him of it recently. He died, knowing that help has come. The Egyptians were routed by the camelry of our midbari allies. They were forced by us and our allies to a few pockets at the pallisade walls of our camp. They were quite docile by then, and surrendered in large amounts. Only then did I realize that there were many more of us then I noticed during the battle.
On the next morning, the casualties were read. Five hundreds. Five hundred good friends and comrades, many of whom followed me all the way from the Antigonelan Campaign.
---
"From the time of Yusuf Midbari's assassination at Zawty during the conquest of Egypt, it became traditional for the Maluk to be accompanied by a large amount of bodyguards.
Another consequence was the creation of an advanced Syrian messanger system."
- From God's Army: The Warriors of Syria.
---
After that, all went well. It was almost-surreal, as city after city, town after town, village after village surrendered to us as we approached. I overcame dizziness, and I did not permitany physicians to examine me. I knew I was poisoned. But I needed to live.
We marched, marched, marched, until we faced the borders of the Nubian realm. Egypt was ours - we have triumphed.
And then, I ordered the entire army to gather before me. They were tired. But they still were a great army.
And I made my last speech.
"Warriors. Warriors of Syria, warriors of Phoenicea and Petrea, of Upper and Lower Egypts, of the Great Midbar and of Hatti.
You came from different places, yet you all are alike in that you are warriors of the Malukate. You gave your oaths to me, you exchanged the freedom of a citizen or a farmer for the servitude of the army, knowing that warriors who serve me will get fame and glory. Those who are dead - they will never be forgotten, their names will be written down on walls of all cities. Those who still live are already legends in life, for they have never lost a battle.
You asked me to lead you to the edge of the world, you promised to follow me there. We stand here, on the Nubian border. It is the edge of the Syrian world, the human world, beyond it live those who are blackened by the merciless sun and who coexist with the beings unheard of in our land.
There is no army better then that of Syria, which is why it is chosen by the God, Baal, who is me and many others beside. No other army could have conquered such a great expanse of land. No other army could have built such a great empire. Army. What is the difference between an army and a crowd of warriors? Both of them consist of warriors, true, but army is not individualistic. It is an united force, a single organism formed by us all, from the supreme commander to the lowest slave. Force of a crowd of warriors depends on individuals - but individuals are mortal. They cannot be replaced. An army consists of ranks, and those men who form it are secondary. All of us will one day die, in battle or from disease, but there is always more then enough to fill our place.
We, the army, all remember the Battle at Zawty. It was a great, epic, decisive battle, yet we triumphed. But in that battle, I was wounded fatally by a poisoned spear. Soon, I will die. But there is always more then enough people to replace me - both as Baal-Maluk and as your supreme commander.
I will die, and a part of history will end, whilst another one will begin. I ask you this - serve those who come after me well, and remain an army, an invincible army. If you do this, no matter your own opinion of the new ruler and the new supreme commander, then our glory will live on forever. Let it be so, my men. Let Syria be eternal. Let this army, no matter the deaths of individuals, forever reign supreme on the battlefield.
We stand here, my warriors, and yours - OURS! - is a magnificent force. Spearmen, archers, charioteers, bodyguards, officers, messangers, slaves - we all are a force, an united force. This is the last time I see you. And though with time, all faces will change, and so will your tactics, formations and weapons... I will also remember you this way.
The new Baal-Maluk will be Wazik Ahiram, for he will rule the Malukate well and protect it from all foes who will seek to take advantage of my death, and into him will the Baal's spirit enter, and he will become at one with Baal as I am now. The new supreme commander will be Mehmad Yathribi, whom all of you know as a great warrior and capable commander. Accept them..."
They all shouted their acceptance.
"...and make sure all others accept them as well. The messangers were already sent to all cities of the Malukate, announcing my death and the changes after it. Both I and Ahiram know - the time for further conquest is not yet ripe. We are threatened, Syrians. Threatened by Anatolians, by Armenians, by Arabs, by Nubians, by Libyans and by those in the Malukate who seek its downfall. We must ward off all who come, we must crush all the enemies of our glory. Be vigilant for me, Syrians. Guard my empire for me."
And then I died.
---
Death. It is beyond human comprehension, and divine as well as I learned.
I was Yusuf Midbari, and I was dead, I was dead for quite a while as well. I was dead while my corpse was loaded into a galley in a coffin, and when it was transported across the stormy sea to Acre, and when it was carried by slaves into Damascus... and all until my heart was cut out and given to... me. To Baal. Under the sun, it completely died and dried out, and what was left was an empty shell of the heart and an empty shell of the body. I... my soul... was attached to me, Baal, again. And then it left myself, Baal, and flew to the shrine, where I, Ahiram, needed to spend twenty-four hours according to the Syrian tradition.
And my soul entered me. The new me. I was Ahiram. I was Baal. And I reminscened of what I did before I became this new me. Of what Ahiram did during that dream-like experience... of being dead.
Of how I became the new Baal-Maluk after the death of the previous one, Yusuf Midbari, whom I no longer was.
---
When the news of Baal-Maluk Yusuf Midbari's death came... there was shock. Before grief and mourning begun, there was shock, even the cynical Ahiram was shocked for the first few moments after the news came. Yusuf seemed immortal to all, for he died not in all these years. Yet now, he was dead. Somehow, all people knew it - he was dead.
Ahiram knew what this meant. He needed to become the new Baal-Maluk, not only because Yusuf said so... but because it was the only sure way to assure survival. Survival of Syria, and survival of him himself. For otherwise, Syria will fall into decay and will die amidst the wars of succession. Yusuf's children must not inherit. There was no law providing for inheritance in Syria, even though in the old Arabic tribes that conquered it the oldest male offspring was supposed to inherit. Inheritance was, as Yusuf planned it, by decree. The ruler will determine the most capable Syrian that he knew off as his successor. Just so happened that he chose Ahiram.
And Ahiram bloody well intended to make it clear, which was why a Phoenicean rebel killed Tariq Midbari, and why Ilash Midbari was found dead. Suspecting something, Ibrahim Midbari demanded that Ahiram, who, as Wazik, was in disposal of the treasury, shows it to him. Ahiram didn't play outrage, the other nobles did. Ahiram showed him the treasury and accounted for all expenses. Nothing about assassinations. Embarassed, Ibrahim retired. He lost all credility. Secretly, Ahiram smirked. Friends are more valuable then gold, especially if nobody knows about those friends.
Other children were too small to do anything about this.
Only a few others, mostly the nobles dared resist, but most of them either died, either turned out to be heretics and blasphemers, which discredited them.
And finally, even the priests, seeing that the army and the people mostly supported Ahiram, agreed - this WAS Yusuf's last request, not a fake. And thus Ahiram now only needed to go to the Maluk Shrine, to become the new Baal's avator, the new Baal-Maluk. To make sure the process works, the heart, which contained the soul, was cut out of Yusuf's body and the Baal claimed the soul of his avatar for himself. The heart, blackened and dried by the sun over the sacrificial altar, was put back into Yusuf's body and he was buried. Ahiram was exposed to a small ray of the sun under the darkness of the square black shrine, and then it happened. Baal entered him.
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
das said:
North king told me the name
go talk to him 
MjM
Deity
iT says on the first page
North King
blech
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- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
erez87 said:nop it doesn't
Yes it does.
North King said:
North King
blech
- Joined
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- 18,165
erez87 said:Tommorow?!?! Goodness! must send orders
Yes, especially as I only have 9/20...
BTW, I happen to like das' story the best this turn, but I'm certainly hoping to see more.
I also liked Jason's , Communisto's... Hmm, and pretty much everyone's who posted one.
das
Regeneration In Process
Well, for the next turn I DO already have something of a plan for a story, though its only beginning to form, about that certain organization I ordered you to create. As for this turn... Not sure. But maybe I'll find time tomorrow...
Btw - is that new (non-UU) unit alright (the one I ordered to grow twice)? Can you please add it to the frontpage next turn?
Btw - is that new (non-UU) unit alright (the one I ordered to grow twice)? Can you please add it to the frontpage next turn?
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Yes, yes, respectively.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Update pushed forward a day, to the 28th, because the 27th is rather filled.
das
Regeneration In Process
Don't complain to me when a dagger sticks out from your back with an attached parchment blaming you for neglecting your duties...
I can wait, I guess, but can't you at least START the update? Like write about a part of the world first?
I can wait, I guess, but can't you at least START the update? Like write about a part of the world first?
das
Regeneration In Process
Speaking of China, I'm rather interested if you remember about Hong Kong.
Oh dear, I've completely forgot about this. I've been so tired the last couple of days.
Sorry for my late orders, I hope they'll get in the update.
Just keep doing what I did last turn, primarily attacking east of that river, whatever it's called.
Sorry for my late orders, I hope they'll get in the update.
Just keep doing what I did last turn, primarily attacking east of that river, whatever it's called.
das
Regeneration In Process
Um, sorry, NK, don't have any ideas for a new story... this turn. Next turn, however...
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