hoplitejoe
Top fun-poster
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2010
- Messages
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I wish I could draw... Yours is really good 
The Celestial Bureaucracy
- Thread starter Tomorrow's Dawn
- Start date
Tambien
Theseus, Duke of Athens
Really really good.
MoreEpicThanYou
The most Epic.
I have been reading the whole thing since lunch.
I WORSHIP YOUR WRITING SKILLS....
I WORSHIP YOUR WRITING SKILLS....
VineFynn
High King of the Britons
Congratulations on making it into the first edition of ST&T.
Yoshiegg737
Jungo Jungo
Yeah, that newspaper should get you more views than the rest of us can do with word of mouth 
Tomorrow's Dawn
Heroes Never Die
Apologies for the delay.
This was by far the most difficult update I’ve had to write thus far.
Mostly because to even get into the frame of mind to write something like this is fairly taxing.
They All Fall Down
The Southern Pacification Army had stood on the outskirts of the city walls for days now, having resorted to pounding on their war drums & gongs day and night in an attempt to break enemy morale. The Chinese had already occupied the outer city districts but were finding it difficult to approach the heavily defended ramparts even in the dead of night. Up atop the defiant walls of Yasodhapura were the masses of huddled archers, watching 24/7 for any sign of enemy movement. It would seem as if the discordant assault was working though, with many of the defenders looking deadened and manic from the unceasing music that came from beyond their firing range. A Chinese offensive was expected to come any day now from both the military and the civilian populace in Yasodhapura. The civilians, fearing for their lives, were becoming increasingly frustrated and demanded to leave the city. Opening the gate was not an option however, and ballista gunners pointing inwards towards the city sprayed down anyone who even dared to approach the gate.
It had been a whole two weeks now. It was decided that the Kampucheans had been thoroughly weakened enough to launch the assault. At midnight, the artillerymen prepped the catapults into position and lit the projectiles aflame. No one cared about what effect loading flaming projectiles would have on the integrity of the machines because once the capital fell, Kampuchean morale would become completely broken.
On first impact, several of the defensive positions atop the wall were blown to pieces; bodies flung in all directions over the top of the wall. Seeing as how the Chinese were bombarding them from out of the range of their archers, the order was given grudgingly to move an army out into the outer city and deal with the artillerymen. Bursting through the grand gate of Yasodhapura, elephant cavalry supported by numerous infantry columns rushed out into the outer city with their sights set on the artillerymen firing from the atop the roofs of the abandoned houses. That was anticipated though.
As the lead elephant rider reached firing distance and readied himself to take a shot at the nearest artillery crew, he felt an overwhelming plummeting feeling overtake him as the Tiger Vanguard sprung the traps, causing scores of Kampuchean foot soldiers and cavalry riders to plummet into a number of spiked pits dotted all across the main street. Arrow fire now erupted from behind the curtains and doorways of the abandoned homes, catching the hapless survivors in the crossfire. As the one-sided massacre ensued, the brass on the Kampuchean side had realized their mistake and ordered the immediate closing of the gates but when the troops approached the gate, they found two masked figures clothed in black barring their entry.
The taller figure made a flinging motion with his hand and suddenly, the foremost soldier grasped at his neck, unable to breath. It was almost as if he was being strangled by an invisible force. The assassin lashed his hand back and a spray of red erupted from the man’s neck, causing the soldiers to gasp in horror.
The smaller figure drew a pair of daggers and proceeded to savage through the throng of soldiers like a beast ripping into its quarry. A few soldiers managed to slip past the killing floor and pushed themselves to close to gate only to spring more traps into action. Deadly wires came lashing loose from the hallway, severing the men into pieces.
Qin rushed over to disarm the rest of the traps in preparation for the Dragon Marauders’ entry while Suriya finished off the rest of the soldiers than came down from the walls to try and close the gate. The first wave of Dragon Marauders was rapidly approaching, with most of the defenses up atop the ramparts having been obliterated by the unrelenting artillery assault. Reinforcements were being called from the inner city and both spies could see that a fresh tartan phalanx was making its way to the fore. They surely were not going to engage that. The two spies quickly finished off what stragglers they could as they greeted the Dragon Marauders through the gate and retreated to standby at another rendezvous point with the military.
Hours had passed and at the rendezvous point, Suriya & Qin greeted the first batch of soldiers to reach the checkpoint and began to guide them to the Palace gates. They were oddly enough lightly guarded but it was speculated that the God-King held a reserve garrison within the Palace itself. Suriya led the first wave of soldiers towards the palace gates, slaughtering any resistance that stood in the way with ruthless efficiency. Qin was trailing behind the fore, watching the group flanks and keeping a close eye on any possible pursuers. Eventually, they reached the foreboding gateway that stood between them and the palace and Suriya set off to do her thing.
Her heart was pounding. Beyond this gate, was the source of all of the suffering of her people.
The God-King was most likely cowering behind his throne, ripe for her retribution.
Presented the chance, she would likely steal the chance to execute him herself.
All she had to do was just unlock this gate and--
Before she could undo the lock, the gate burst open from the inside, sending both spies flying back down the steps near the accompanying soldiers. A behemoth of a man stood in the doorway with an odd-looking device in his hands. The upper half of his face was obscured by a ceremonial helmet but a wide smile could be seen forming on the lips of the monstrosity.
“NOW IS COWARD KILLING TIME!!” he bellowed.
Rotating the crank-lever on the side of the device, the portable ballista spewed a continuous volley of arrows towards the soldiers. Both Suriya & Qin were pierced through several limbs before they were able to dive for cover. The accompanying soldiers were not so lucky. Mowed through, only three of the original ten soldiers survived, albeit, pinned to the ground by dozens of arrows and suffering incredible pain.
The giant lumbered towards the three remaining Dragon Marauders and revved up his ballista again to fire when Suriya leapt from the brush and attempted to knock the ballista from his hands. She was promptly knocked aside with ease but that distraction was all the time Qin needed to react and from the opposite side, a rope latched onto the behemoth’s weapon and jerked back with great force.
Success! Qin lassoed the ballista out of the behemoth’s hands and flung it far back in the distance where it belonged. There was a certain failure on his part though to perceive that he had not only pulled away the ballista, but also the behemoth as well. The enemy slammed the full force of his weight onto the hapless spy, crushing him into a daze. Qin could hardly breathe. His left lung had just collapsed from the force of the blow. Trying hard to catch his breath, his eyes opened right before a giant fist smashed straight into his face and shattered his mask, sending him flying into the wall behind him. As the giant lunged towards him in an attempt to finish him off, Qin could vaguely make out a lithe, female shape latch onto his adversary and interrupt his killing blow. The giant struggled for a moment but was able to shake her off, slamming her away with his bare fist, her skin shredding off her back as she skidded across the gravel.
Qin propped himself back up and gritted his teeth. Suriya’s distraction was all that he needed to ditch his weapon for his tried and true garrote wire. He would only get one shot with this and he needed to make it count. While the giant had his back turned, the Han spy leapt onto his shoulders and began to strangle him with the hopes of severing a vital artery. To his surprise, the giant was not dying in the slightest; his neck was simply too thick for such a thin wire to cut through deep enough. The Han spy continued to tighten the garrote around the man’s thick neck, cutting deep but seemingly not able to find a vital artery. His adversary continued to try and buck him off though. Qin could not keep this up much longer. Where was Suriya? He could only hold him for so long…
The giant decided he wasn’t going to have it anymore and suddenly leapt into the air only to bring his entire weight down onto the marble floor. Before Qin could react, he found himself crushed underneath, breaking several ribs and tearing open several already painful arrow wounds. He howled and writhed on the floor in pain, bones too broken to lift himself up again.
The last thing he saw as his vision blurred out was the silhouette of Suriya leaping onto the giant and great splatters of blood washing over his face. The screams, at this point were indistinguishable from another and blended together in an incoherent cacophony. Were they the giant’s or were they Suriya’s? He faded in and out of consciousness as he struggled to maintain an anchor in the temporal world.
Qin temporarily regained a weak consciousness to find himself surrounded by the scent of flowers in the palace garden. Suriya had dragged Qin into the garden after bringing down the giant. The Han infiltrator had not noticed until now, but his companion had been struck by the bulk of the arrow fire. The two spies had overcome the trial of the giant but at a heavy cost. Both of them were suffering from mortal wounds and were already far beyond help. At this point, the only thing keeping the both of them conscious was sheer force of will alone. The only thing they could do now was ride the rest of the way out in comfort. “It’s been an honor to work with you,” she huffed. “Perhaps in another lifetime, if we had both just been regular people, I would’ve liked to ask you out for dinner,” Qin couldn’t respond in kind but a feeble, broken hand placed on top of hers let her know exactly his sentiments. Suriya procured a small vial of non-descript liquid and smeared it over her lips after dabbing her fingers into it. Qin could vaguely see and feel his companion applying it over his lips as well. His female companion just slumped over onto his own still body and kissed him, feeding the poison to him through her mouth.
All throughout his time in Kampuchea, Qin had longed for nothing more than to return to Chaoxian.
The bureaucrats would pay an arm & leg for just a night of his company and he fondly looked back at a time when he was considered one of the most desirable companions in the Empire. Booked back-to-back every night by the fair top-brass ladies over in the Northeast. Heh. Not now however, not with broken ribs, several hideous gashes covering his body and the inability to speak in his seductive voice what with his collapsed lung. But, as he lay dying against the palace wall with the company of Suriya as they exchanged poison, he didn’t think this was so bad after all. Dying in the company of a beautiful woman.
Not the worst way to go by a long shot.
“Maybe in another lifetime,” was the last thought that floated to the surface of Qin’s mind before the poison took effect and his consciousness slipped away from him.
The two spies expired quietly together in the garden; unnoticed at large by the world around them.
Mohammed and his squadron was amongst the third wave of soldiers sent to occupy the palace. The body of the behemoth lay sprawled on the steps, oozing a veritable lake of blood onto the ground. Mohammed quickly noticed that there were several Dragon Marauder bodies littering the surrounding field as well. A few of them appeared to have just taken their last breaths as they bled out slowly on the floor. It would seem that they had given up their lives in order to clear entry for the next several squadrons to arrive. As the supporting regiments and units stepped foot inside the once grand entrance hall, Captain Yue was given the honor of leading his men into the throne room in order to seek out the God-King.
As soon as the men had infiltrated the palace, Private Han darted off through the corridor directly in front of them, leaving the rest of the squadron behind. There was clearly something affecting him as he had never had a history of defying orders or breaking squadron cohesion. Members of Captain Yue’s squadron called out for him but to no avail. There was something else in store for them though.
Not long after Han had bolted off on his own did a small unit of Kampuchean palace guards leap out from behind the curtains to ambush the dozens of Dragon Marauders still stuck in the entrance hall. Every man in the third wave drew their arms and braced themselves for a fight as the Cambodians closed in, with tartan shields and iron spears pointed towards them with the express purpose of slaying the invaders. Morita & Choi fought back to back and focused on going after isolated soldiers at once; every time a palace guard blocked a strike from one of them, he was open to an attack from another. Mohammed & Yang quickly picked up the tactic and began to pick off foes in this way as well, become something not too unlike a force of nature. Captain Yue was not so fortunate however. His captain’s uniform had painted him as a prime target and was forced to fight several spearmen at once. Holding off several at once, the Captain was slowly being backed into a corner until he ran out of space to dodge in. Captain Yue was pierced through the right leg, causing him to collapse onto the floor but not before severing his attacker’s torso clean through with his dao. By that moment, the supporting squadrons had finished their share of foes as well, albeit taking sufficient casualties within their number.
“Captain!!” Yang yelled as Mohammed’s squadron approached their injured leader.
“I’m fine,” he grunted. “These men will take care of me,” he said as several Dragon Marauders approached him to apply bandages and carry him out of the palace. “I want all of you to stick to the objective and go after Han,”
“Yes, sir!” the men nodded as they ran off towards the direction Han was last seen moving off into.
By the time Private Han had arrived within the corridor of the throne room, there was already a large throng of Dragon Marauders attempting to kill Ang Rithisak. For a man past his prime, he fought surprisingly well though and held his own against the dozens of soldiers that sought his death.
Ang Rithisak was no slouch when it came to melee combat. Several Cho-Ko-Nu wielding soldiers opened fire on the God-King, only to strike an allied Dragon Marauder who had just been disarmed, grappled and utilized as a human shield. The God-King promptly kicked his victim into the soldiers and sliced through them both as he dashed straight past. He easily dispatched the rest of the Dragon Marauders in equally sadistic fashion, appearing to take pleasure in the thrill of the kill with each life he extinguished. Fairly soon, Han was the only one left alive to combat the Kampuchean ruler.
“Last one left? It isn’t too late to run, you know,” the God-King said in Mandarin with an amused expression on his face.
Han responded in Cambodian, “This doesn’t end until you die,”
The God-King was surprised to hear this but nonetheless remained attentive as he traded blows with the remaining soldier.
All the while, the God-King could literally feel the raw hatred that was being exuded by his opponent. It made him quite curious.
“You’re not like the others,” he remarked as he danced away from a lightning quick slash.
“Why do you hate me so? This seems awfully personal,” the man scowled from afar.
Twirling his blade as he spun in to close the distance, Han made a backhand swipe towards the God-King, triggering the ruler’s excellent reflexes. The resulting parry caused sparks to fly but that did not stop Han’s relentless assault. The Private ducked and weaved underneath the God-King’s counter blows and clawed at his chest with his bare hand, leaving a nasty red gash on the skin of the ruler.
“Perhaps you’re a defector, with some grudge against some wrong you probably brought on yourself,”
Another angry clash of blades told the God-King that wasn’t the answer.
“No?”
The God-King continued to parry Han’s blows effortlessly as he kept trying to put a finger on what exactly got his opponent so riled up against him.
“Or maybe one of those petty ethnic rebels trying to win yourself some self-determination, hm?”
Han uttered a terrible cry of fury as once again the two combatants clashed blades, filling the air with sparks.
“Not that either? You’re really stumping me on this one,”
He narrowly ducked under a decapitating strike, but the swipe had managed to cleave off some of the God-King’s long white locks of hair. And then it dawned on him as he delved deep into the intense fires that glowed in the Private’s eyes.
“You’re here for her, aren’t you?”
Han stopped as the God-King said that, giving his opponent the necessary time window to land a fatal blow. Ang Rithisak’s blade plunged through the abdomen of the Private, finalizing the outcome of the duel.
“I was right. Maybe you’re a former lover, or a surviving family member. I don’t know and I don’t care. She’s mine, end of story. You ought to be happy for her. I elevated her to the position of a Goddess unlike all of my other poor concubines. She has the privilege of experiencing pleasures only a God could gift her every night,” and the God-King continued to cackle as he began to twist the blade inside of Han several times. The Private let out a howl but it was not one of pain. The rage consumed him and gave him the strength he needed to overcome the pain and deliver one last spiteful deathblow. He pulled Ang Rithisak close while disregarding his own impalement and in closing the distance, plunged his jian into the bare chest of the Kampuchean ruler. Both hands then took hold of the blade and heaved upwards, cleaving through past the top of the God-King’s skull, causing the ruler to topple over and collapse lifelessly onto the floor.
Mohammed and his comrades arrived on the scene only to find the throne room littered in Dragon Marauder bodies. The mutilated body of the God-King also lay in the center of the room, having been cleaved clean through from the torso upwards. Private Han stood in the center of the court, with a blade sticking out through his back, much to the squadron’s horror. As they began to approach him, Han began to stagger away from his comrades.
“Han! Stop!” Yang cried as he reached out and put a hand on Han’s shoulder.
With incredible strength, the silent warrior shoved Yang aside and staggered down the hallway past the throne room as he was losing blood by the minute. His comrades continued to try and stop him but he didn’t come all this way for nothing. He only continued to push them aside as he continued up the hallway; some unseen sense directing him towards his goal. The blade was still imbedded deep inside his abdomen but that was inconsequential to him. Every fiber of his being pushed him forward while he was attempting something nearly impossible for a man who had just been impaled.
But he had to see it to the end.
He had to let her know that he never forgot about her.
Han heaved open the door as more blood spilled from his wound.
There it was.
It was all coming back to him for the last time.
The face he hadn’t seen since the day his world fell apart.
The day the God-King’s men arrived to procure his younger sister at the behest of the perverse ruler.
The day where he witnessed his parents and older brothers scorched alive in a sea of flames for their defiance of the order.
The only thing he held dear and knew for certain still existed in this forsaken world.
“I’m sorry I took so long,” he smiled.
The brief moment of bliss on the girl’s pale face upon hearing his voice turned into horror as she witnessed Han collapse to the floor with a sword still embedded deep into his body. She quickly rushed over to his side and blinked several times while surveying his condition, refusing to believe it as truth.
Wet tears splattered over his face and he could vaguely see the silhouette of his sister kneeling over him.
“I-is it really you?” the girl cried, unable to contain herself as she cradled his face.
“Yes, it really is me,” Han responded as the blood could be heard gurgling in his throat.
There was an awkward silence permeating the air. So many things needed to be said but neither of them could find the right things to say with what little time Han had left for this world. The scene was no less painful for his comrades to watch as well, as they began to piece it all together.
The dying Private finally broke the silence and addressed his kindred with adoration and love in his voice.
“I never stopped thinking of you,” he said quietly as he looked at her one last time. “That’s why I came back,”
“Don’t leave me alone, please,” the girl sobbed as she held onto his hands.
She knew just as well as anyone else present though that it wasn’t a request Han could keep.
Han had closure now. At this point and time, his consciousness was sequestered away in a realm where only his sister and himself resided. Everything else, the war, his comrades, all of that was on a completely separate plane of existence as far as he was concerned. Now able to let go, all the strength he had saved up to this moment dissipated from his body and Han could no longer bear the grevious wounds inflicted on his body. The soldier died in peace, knowing that he had finally freed his sister. Mohammed, Yang, Choi & Morita could do nothing but stand and stare in awe at the gravity of the scene unfolding before them. The teenage girl continued to bawl and shed rivers of tears for her dead brother, until the pleadings and sobbing gradually faded out into barely audible whispers.
“Help him!! Please!! Do something about him! He’s not really dead isn’t he? Please tell me he’s not dead!!” she spluttered, looking at Mohammed’s squadron and specifically shaking Private Choi down.
“Please, calm down, miss, I-I mean, is he really your, uh, brother?”
“YES! HE’S MY BROTHER! WON’T SOMEONE PLEASE JUST SAVE HIM!”
“I’m sorry! I-I-I mean none of us are physicians a-and by the time we could get one to arrive, Han would already be long--,” Choi refrained himself from saying the rest as he turned his head away in shame.
Her eyes widened and welled into more tears. For her, the agony had become overwhelming.
She was free now though. And if even in freedom, she still could not shake off the specter of agony, there was still one thing she could do; the one thing she wanted to do since the day she was taken.
Before anyone realized anything was going on, the girl ran towards the window sill and climbed onto the frame, ready to leap. Mohammed snapped out of his stupor and instinctively ran towards the girl in a vain attempt to prevent her from taking the leap.
“WAIT!!!”
Mohammed tried to catch her, but could not take hold of her flowery white garb in time and watched helplessly as she plummeted from the window sill onto the ground several stories below. Trying to look away from the terrible sight of the young woman’s death, he averted his gaze only to look upon a screaming city engulfed in a sea of flames.
Writer’s Aside: I didn’t actually lose that Spy or any units at all when I sieged the capital.
This was by far the most difficult update I’ve had to write thus far.
Mostly because to even get into the frame of mind to write something like this is fairly taxing.
They All Fall Down
The Southern Pacification Army had stood on the outskirts of the city walls for days now, having resorted to pounding on their war drums & gongs day and night in an attempt to break enemy morale. The Chinese had already occupied the outer city districts but were finding it difficult to approach the heavily defended ramparts even in the dead of night. Up atop the defiant walls of Yasodhapura were the masses of huddled archers, watching 24/7 for any sign of enemy movement. It would seem as if the discordant assault was working though, with many of the defenders looking deadened and manic from the unceasing music that came from beyond their firing range. A Chinese offensive was expected to come any day now from both the military and the civilian populace in Yasodhapura. The civilians, fearing for their lives, were becoming increasingly frustrated and demanded to leave the city. Opening the gate was not an option however, and ballista gunners pointing inwards towards the city sprayed down anyone who even dared to approach the gate.
It had been a whole two weeks now. It was decided that the Kampucheans had been thoroughly weakened enough to launch the assault. At midnight, the artillerymen prepped the catapults into position and lit the projectiles aflame. No one cared about what effect loading flaming projectiles would have on the integrity of the machines because once the capital fell, Kampuchean morale would become completely broken.
On first impact, several of the defensive positions atop the wall were blown to pieces; bodies flung in all directions over the top of the wall. Seeing as how the Chinese were bombarding them from out of the range of their archers, the order was given grudgingly to move an army out into the outer city and deal with the artillerymen. Bursting through the grand gate of Yasodhapura, elephant cavalry supported by numerous infantry columns rushed out into the outer city with their sights set on the artillerymen firing from the atop the roofs of the abandoned houses. That was anticipated though.
As the lead elephant rider reached firing distance and readied himself to take a shot at the nearest artillery crew, he felt an overwhelming plummeting feeling overtake him as the Tiger Vanguard sprung the traps, causing scores of Kampuchean foot soldiers and cavalry riders to plummet into a number of spiked pits dotted all across the main street. Arrow fire now erupted from behind the curtains and doorways of the abandoned homes, catching the hapless survivors in the crossfire. As the one-sided massacre ensued, the brass on the Kampuchean side had realized their mistake and ordered the immediate closing of the gates but when the troops approached the gate, they found two masked figures clothed in black barring their entry.
The taller figure made a flinging motion with his hand and suddenly, the foremost soldier grasped at his neck, unable to breath. It was almost as if he was being strangled by an invisible force. The assassin lashed his hand back and a spray of red erupted from the man’s neck, causing the soldiers to gasp in horror.
The smaller figure drew a pair of daggers and proceeded to savage through the throng of soldiers like a beast ripping into its quarry. A few soldiers managed to slip past the killing floor and pushed themselves to close to gate only to spring more traps into action. Deadly wires came lashing loose from the hallway, severing the men into pieces.
Qin rushed over to disarm the rest of the traps in preparation for the Dragon Marauders’ entry while Suriya finished off the rest of the soldiers than came down from the walls to try and close the gate. The first wave of Dragon Marauders was rapidly approaching, with most of the defenses up atop the ramparts having been obliterated by the unrelenting artillery assault. Reinforcements were being called from the inner city and both spies could see that a fresh tartan phalanx was making its way to the fore. They surely were not going to engage that. The two spies quickly finished off what stragglers they could as they greeted the Dragon Marauders through the gate and retreated to standby at another rendezvous point with the military.
Hours had passed and at the rendezvous point, Suriya & Qin greeted the first batch of soldiers to reach the checkpoint and began to guide them to the Palace gates. They were oddly enough lightly guarded but it was speculated that the God-King held a reserve garrison within the Palace itself. Suriya led the first wave of soldiers towards the palace gates, slaughtering any resistance that stood in the way with ruthless efficiency. Qin was trailing behind the fore, watching the group flanks and keeping a close eye on any possible pursuers. Eventually, they reached the foreboding gateway that stood between them and the palace and Suriya set off to do her thing.
Her heart was pounding. Beyond this gate, was the source of all of the suffering of her people.
The God-King was most likely cowering behind his throne, ripe for her retribution.
Presented the chance, she would likely steal the chance to execute him herself.
All she had to do was just unlock this gate and--
Before she could undo the lock, the gate burst open from the inside, sending both spies flying back down the steps near the accompanying soldiers. A behemoth of a man stood in the doorway with an odd-looking device in his hands. The upper half of his face was obscured by a ceremonial helmet but a wide smile could be seen forming on the lips of the monstrosity.
“NOW IS COWARD KILLING TIME!!” he bellowed.
Rotating the crank-lever on the side of the device, the portable ballista spewed a continuous volley of arrows towards the soldiers. Both Suriya & Qin were pierced through several limbs before they were able to dive for cover. The accompanying soldiers were not so lucky. Mowed through, only three of the original ten soldiers survived, albeit, pinned to the ground by dozens of arrows and suffering incredible pain.
The giant lumbered towards the three remaining Dragon Marauders and revved up his ballista again to fire when Suriya leapt from the brush and attempted to knock the ballista from his hands. She was promptly knocked aside with ease but that distraction was all the time Qin needed to react and from the opposite side, a rope latched onto the behemoth’s weapon and jerked back with great force.
Success! Qin lassoed the ballista out of the behemoth’s hands and flung it far back in the distance where it belonged. There was a certain failure on his part though to perceive that he had not only pulled away the ballista, but also the behemoth as well. The enemy slammed the full force of his weight onto the hapless spy, crushing him into a daze. Qin could hardly breathe. His left lung had just collapsed from the force of the blow. Trying hard to catch his breath, his eyes opened right before a giant fist smashed straight into his face and shattered his mask, sending him flying into the wall behind him. As the giant lunged towards him in an attempt to finish him off, Qin could vaguely make out a lithe, female shape latch onto his adversary and interrupt his killing blow. The giant struggled for a moment but was able to shake her off, slamming her away with his bare fist, her skin shredding off her back as she skidded across the gravel.
Qin propped himself back up and gritted his teeth. Suriya’s distraction was all that he needed to ditch his weapon for his tried and true garrote wire. He would only get one shot with this and he needed to make it count. While the giant had his back turned, the Han spy leapt onto his shoulders and began to strangle him with the hopes of severing a vital artery. To his surprise, the giant was not dying in the slightest; his neck was simply too thick for such a thin wire to cut through deep enough. The Han spy continued to tighten the garrote around the man’s thick neck, cutting deep but seemingly not able to find a vital artery. His adversary continued to try and buck him off though. Qin could not keep this up much longer. Where was Suriya? He could only hold him for so long…
The giant decided he wasn’t going to have it anymore and suddenly leapt into the air only to bring his entire weight down onto the marble floor. Before Qin could react, he found himself crushed underneath, breaking several ribs and tearing open several already painful arrow wounds. He howled and writhed on the floor in pain, bones too broken to lift himself up again.
The last thing he saw as his vision blurred out was the silhouette of Suriya leaping onto the giant and great splatters of blood washing over his face. The screams, at this point were indistinguishable from another and blended together in an incoherent cacophony. Were they the giant’s or were they Suriya’s? He faded in and out of consciousness as he struggled to maintain an anchor in the temporal world.
Qin temporarily regained a weak consciousness to find himself surrounded by the scent of flowers in the palace garden. Suriya had dragged Qin into the garden after bringing down the giant. The Han infiltrator had not noticed until now, but his companion had been struck by the bulk of the arrow fire. The two spies had overcome the trial of the giant but at a heavy cost. Both of them were suffering from mortal wounds and were already far beyond help. At this point, the only thing keeping the both of them conscious was sheer force of will alone. The only thing they could do now was ride the rest of the way out in comfort. “It’s been an honor to work with you,” she huffed. “Perhaps in another lifetime, if we had both just been regular people, I would’ve liked to ask you out for dinner,” Qin couldn’t respond in kind but a feeble, broken hand placed on top of hers let her know exactly his sentiments. Suriya procured a small vial of non-descript liquid and smeared it over her lips after dabbing her fingers into it. Qin could vaguely see and feel his companion applying it over his lips as well. His female companion just slumped over onto his own still body and kissed him, feeding the poison to him through her mouth.
All throughout his time in Kampuchea, Qin had longed for nothing more than to return to Chaoxian.
The bureaucrats would pay an arm & leg for just a night of his company and he fondly looked back at a time when he was considered one of the most desirable companions in the Empire. Booked back-to-back every night by the fair top-brass ladies over in the Northeast. Heh. Not now however, not with broken ribs, several hideous gashes covering his body and the inability to speak in his seductive voice what with his collapsed lung. But, as he lay dying against the palace wall with the company of Suriya as they exchanged poison, he didn’t think this was so bad after all. Dying in the company of a beautiful woman.
Not the worst way to go by a long shot.
“Maybe in another lifetime,” was the last thought that floated to the surface of Qin’s mind before the poison took effect and his consciousness slipped away from him.
The two spies expired quietly together in the garden; unnoticed at large by the world around them.
Mohammed and his squadron was amongst the third wave of soldiers sent to occupy the palace. The body of the behemoth lay sprawled on the steps, oozing a veritable lake of blood onto the ground. Mohammed quickly noticed that there were several Dragon Marauder bodies littering the surrounding field as well. A few of them appeared to have just taken their last breaths as they bled out slowly on the floor. It would seem that they had given up their lives in order to clear entry for the next several squadrons to arrive. As the supporting regiments and units stepped foot inside the once grand entrance hall, Captain Yue was given the honor of leading his men into the throne room in order to seek out the God-King.
As soon as the men had infiltrated the palace, Private Han darted off through the corridor directly in front of them, leaving the rest of the squadron behind. There was clearly something affecting him as he had never had a history of defying orders or breaking squadron cohesion. Members of Captain Yue’s squadron called out for him but to no avail. There was something else in store for them though.
Not long after Han had bolted off on his own did a small unit of Kampuchean palace guards leap out from behind the curtains to ambush the dozens of Dragon Marauders still stuck in the entrance hall. Every man in the third wave drew their arms and braced themselves for a fight as the Cambodians closed in, with tartan shields and iron spears pointed towards them with the express purpose of slaying the invaders. Morita & Choi fought back to back and focused on going after isolated soldiers at once; every time a palace guard blocked a strike from one of them, he was open to an attack from another. Mohammed & Yang quickly picked up the tactic and began to pick off foes in this way as well, become something not too unlike a force of nature. Captain Yue was not so fortunate however. His captain’s uniform had painted him as a prime target and was forced to fight several spearmen at once. Holding off several at once, the Captain was slowly being backed into a corner until he ran out of space to dodge in. Captain Yue was pierced through the right leg, causing him to collapse onto the floor but not before severing his attacker’s torso clean through with his dao. By that moment, the supporting squadrons had finished their share of foes as well, albeit taking sufficient casualties within their number.
“Captain!!” Yang yelled as Mohammed’s squadron approached their injured leader.
“I’m fine,” he grunted. “These men will take care of me,” he said as several Dragon Marauders approached him to apply bandages and carry him out of the palace. “I want all of you to stick to the objective and go after Han,”
“Yes, sir!” the men nodded as they ran off towards the direction Han was last seen moving off into.
By the time Private Han had arrived within the corridor of the throne room, there was already a large throng of Dragon Marauders attempting to kill Ang Rithisak. For a man past his prime, he fought surprisingly well though and held his own against the dozens of soldiers that sought his death.
Ang Rithisak was no slouch when it came to melee combat. Several Cho-Ko-Nu wielding soldiers opened fire on the God-King, only to strike an allied Dragon Marauder who had just been disarmed, grappled and utilized as a human shield. The God-King promptly kicked his victim into the soldiers and sliced through them both as he dashed straight past. He easily dispatched the rest of the Dragon Marauders in equally sadistic fashion, appearing to take pleasure in the thrill of the kill with each life he extinguished. Fairly soon, Han was the only one left alive to combat the Kampuchean ruler.
“Last one left? It isn’t too late to run, you know,” the God-King said in Mandarin with an amused expression on his face.
Han responded in Cambodian, “This doesn’t end until you die,”
The God-King was surprised to hear this but nonetheless remained attentive as he traded blows with the remaining soldier.
All the while, the God-King could literally feel the raw hatred that was being exuded by his opponent. It made him quite curious.
“You’re not like the others,” he remarked as he danced away from a lightning quick slash.
“Why do you hate me so? This seems awfully personal,” the man scowled from afar.
Twirling his blade as he spun in to close the distance, Han made a backhand swipe towards the God-King, triggering the ruler’s excellent reflexes. The resulting parry caused sparks to fly but that did not stop Han’s relentless assault. The Private ducked and weaved underneath the God-King’s counter blows and clawed at his chest with his bare hand, leaving a nasty red gash on the skin of the ruler.
“Perhaps you’re a defector, with some grudge against some wrong you probably brought on yourself,”
Another angry clash of blades told the God-King that wasn’t the answer.
“No?”
The God-King continued to parry Han’s blows effortlessly as he kept trying to put a finger on what exactly got his opponent so riled up against him.
“Or maybe one of those petty ethnic rebels trying to win yourself some self-determination, hm?”
Han uttered a terrible cry of fury as once again the two combatants clashed blades, filling the air with sparks.
“Not that either? You’re really stumping me on this one,”
He narrowly ducked under a decapitating strike, but the swipe had managed to cleave off some of the God-King’s long white locks of hair. And then it dawned on him as he delved deep into the intense fires that glowed in the Private’s eyes.
“You’re here for her, aren’t you?”
Han stopped as the God-King said that, giving his opponent the necessary time window to land a fatal blow. Ang Rithisak’s blade plunged through the abdomen of the Private, finalizing the outcome of the duel.
“I was right. Maybe you’re a former lover, or a surviving family member. I don’t know and I don’t care. She’s mine, end of story. You ought to be happy for her. I elevated her to the position of a Goddess unlike all of my other poor concubines. She has the privilege of experiencing pleasures only a God could gift her every night,” and the God-King continued to cackle as he began to twist the blade inside of Han several times. The Private let out a howl but it was not one of pain. The rage consumed him and gave him the strength he needed to overcome the pain and deliver one last spiteful deathblow. He pulled Ang Rithisak close while disregarding his own impalement and in closing the distance, plunged his jian into the bare chest of the Kampuchean ruler. Both hands then took hold of the blade and heaved upwards, cleaving through past the top of the God-King’s skull, causing the ruler to topple over and collapse lifelessly onto the floor.
Mohammed and his comrades arrived on the scene only to find the throne room littered in Dragon Marauder bodies. The mutilated body of the God-King also lay in the center of the room, having been cleaved clean through from the torso upwards. Private Han stood in the center of the court, with a blade sticking out through his back, much to the squadron’s horror. As they began to approach him, Han began to stagger away from his comrades.
“Han! Stop!” Yang cried as he reached out and put a hand on Han’s shoulder.
With incredible strength, the silent warrior shoved Yang aside and staggered down the hallway past the throne room as he was losing blood by the minute. His comrades continued to try and stop him but he didn’t come all this way for nothing. He only continued to push them aside as he continued up the hallway; some unseen sense directing him towards his goal. The blade was still imbedded deep inside his abdomen but that was inconsequential to him. Every fiber of his being pushed him forward while he was attempting something nearly impossible for a man who had just been impaled.
But he had to see it to the end.
He had to let her know that he never forgot about her.
Han heaved open the door as more blood spilled from his wound.
There it was.
It was all coming back to him for the last time.
The face he hadn’t seen since the day his world fell apart.
The day the God-King’s men arrived to procure his younger sister at the behest of the perverse ruler.
The day where he witnessed his parents and older brothers scorched alive in a sea of flames for their defiance of the order.
The only thing he held dear and knew for certain still existed in this forsaken world.
“I’m sorry I took so long,” he smiled.
The brief moment of bliss on the girl’s pale face upon hearing his voice turned into horror as she witnessed Han collapse to the floor with a sword still embedded deep into his body. She quickly rushed over to his side and blinked several times while surveying his condition, refusing to believe it as truth.
Wet tears splattered over his face and he could vaguely see the silhouette of his sister kneeling over him.
“I-is it really you?” the girl cried, unable to contain herself as she cradled his face.
“Yes, it really is me,” Han responded as the blood could be heard gurgling in his throat.
There was an awkward silence permeating the air. So many things needed to be said but neither of them could find the right things to say with what little time Han had left for this world. The scene was no less painful for his comrades to watch as well, as they began to piece it all together.
The dying Private finally broke the silence and addressed his kindred with adoration and love in his voice.
“I never stopped thinking of you,” he said quietly as he looked at her one last time. “That’s why I came back,”
“Don’t leave me alone, please,” the girl sobbed as she held onto his hands.
She knew just as well as anyone else present though that it wasn’t a request Han could keep.
Han had closure now. At this point and time, his consciousness was sequestered away in a realm where only his sister and himself resided. Everything else, the war, his comrades, all of that was on a completely separate plane of existence as far as he was concerned. Now able to let go, all the strength he had saved up to this moment dissipated from his body and Han could no longer bear the grevious wounds inflicted on his body. The soldier died in peace, knowing that he had finally freed his sister. Mohammed, Yang, Choi & Morita could do nothing but stand and stare in awe at the gravity of the scene unfolding before them. The teenage girl continued to bawl and shed rivers of tears for her dead brother, until the pleadings and sobbing gradually faded out into barely audible whispers.
“Help him!! Please!! Do something about him! He’s not really dead isn’t he? Please tell me he’s not dead!!” she spluttered, looking at Mohammed’s squadron and specifically shaking Private Choi down.
“Please, calm down, miss, I-I mean, is he really your, uh, brother?”
“YES! HE’S MY BROTHER! WON’T SOMEONE PLEASE JUST SAVE HIM!”
“I’m sorry! I-I-I mean none of us are physicians a-and by the time we could get one to arrive, Han would already be long--,” Choi refrained himself from saying the rest as he turned his head away in shame.
Her eyes widened and welled into more tears. For her, the agony had become overwhelming.
She was free now though. And if even in freedom, she still could not shake off the specter of agony, there was still one thing she could do; the one thing she wanted to do since the day she was taken.
Before anyone realized anything was going on, the girl ran towards the window sill and climbed onto the frame, ready to leap. Mohammed snapped out of his stupor and instinctively ran towards the girl in a vain attempt to prevent her from taking the leap.
“WAIT!!!”
Mohammed tried to catch her, but could not take hold of her flowery white garb in time and watched helplessly as she plummeted from the window sill onto the ground several stories below. Trying to look away from the terrible sight of the young woman’s death, he averted his gaze only to look upon a screaming city engulfed in a sea of flames.
Writer’s Aside: I didn’t actually lose that Spy or any units at all when I sieged the capital.
I see what you did there!
Yoshiegg737
Jungo Jungo
I just caught that
Tomorrow's Dawn
Heroes Never Die
I have now created a table of contents on the opening post of this thread for easier navigation between segments.
If any of you are interested in re-reading segments of this story, I would suggest you check it out.
If any of you are interested in re-reading segments of this story, I would suggest you check it out.
Yoshiegg737
Jungo Jungo
Wow, 37 updates and 3 extra's so far! Nice!
I know you don't think this story is as good as PotU, but I'll always think of this story as it's equal
I know you don't think this story is as good as PotU, but I'll always think of this story as it's equal
Tomorrow's Dawn
Heroes Never Die
Thoughts From The Soldier
We were recalled from Kampuchea after the capital fell. The War had not completely ended of course, but Nobles who still held fiefs across the battered land had hoped that with the fall of Yasodhapura, and the death of the God-King, that Emperor Xia Pei would relent and stay his hand against them.
They thought wrong.
Xia Pei had vowed to crush any who had served the God-King and were complicit in the drug schemes orchestrated by the ruler. And to that end, the still fresh Southern Reinforcement Army rampaged in Indochina, picking off remnants of the once-proud Kampuchean Army with ease. Even on the high seas, the remnants of the Kampuchean Empire could not find any respite. Tortoise Armada vessels prowled the Gulf of Siam and headed off for the Philippines with new intelligence gathered from the captured capital pointing the way.
Minority groups such as the Kinh & the Thais were granted tax breaks and respectable portions of the war booty as a show of good faith. Nao Caste ministers were aggressively trying to push the notion to these peoples that they did not just trade one cruel overlord for another. Caste strictures were allowed to not come into effect for the occupied regions for a grace period of fifty years. There was still much rebuilding to do so there was no shortage of employment in the conquered cities but the countryside needed to be cleansed of bandits.
Captain Yue returned to his hometown to recover.
His wound was not too significant after all and it was said that he would be back up and walking in a few months.
Thats more than I could say for the numerous men who returned with a disability or disfigurement of some sort.
I will keep the good Captain in my thoughts.
Shao & Han are still on my thoughts. They've left a big impact on me but it's painful to remember them because my mind always rewinds to the moments of their deaths.
I don't know if I can ever come to terms with it.
When I finally returned to Tokyo, my cousin and I received the news that the Marquis was dying. We had been out on the campaign for what, six? Eight months? I couldnt believe my dear uncle was dying, it seemed like it wasnt too long ago that I was just listening to him tell me one of his outrageous jokes. My cousin and I made our way to the Estate with great haste.
A scouting ship discovers a Kampuchean remnant stronghold on the island of Borneo. The Tortoise Armada begins to devise a plan of attack.
Kampuchean remnants from the countryside make an ill-fated attempt to recapture the capital.
The Marquis laid on his deathbed with an attendant on the side. For a dying man, he still had sharp eyes and caught notice of his son and nephew entering the room.
Come closer, you two, he beckoned.
Father Yang mumbled quietly, unable to speak with strength at the sight of his dying father.
I wanted to talk to you two about my will, the Marquis said.
Uncle, it wouldnt be right to listen to that now, Mohammed protested.
No, no, no, this is important and I want you two to listen, the old man insisted.
Xuchang. I am leaving to you the estate, the majority share of my fortune and my title. Not that the title will do you any good; nowadays, its just fluff. Please take care of your mother. Shes a strong woman but at this time, shell need you more than ever, especially now that youve come back from the War. Im not going to give you a long-winded speech and all because Ive given plenty of those to you while you were growing up. I just need you to do one thing for me. And that is not to deploy to the Northeastern Frontier or anywhere else. Your mother is already going to lose me and I wont let her lose you,
Very well, Father, Yang said weakly.
The Marquis tilted his head to address Mohammed next.
Mohammed, you are very dear to me, I hope you understand, the aged Marquis began to speak.
Do you remember all of the New Years celebrations that have come and gone over the years? Every year, I always wanted to give you a large hóng bāo because you were a favorite nephew of mine but your father insisted I be more humble with my bequeathments. He didnt want to spoil you. I know your formative years were hard, despite being tied to a family of wealth and prestige. It helped you to build character. It helped you to develop that strong voice you have now. Not your singing though; its quite terrible to tell you the truth,
Mohammed was trying to balance the inconsistencies between simultaneously praised & poked fun at in one breath while he was reminded that his uncle was still dying.
You can read over the terms of my will, the old man motioned with his left hand.
The attendant by the bedside handed a sheet of parchment for the veteran soldier to go over.
This Uncle this is too much surely- Mohammed put the paper down, I cant accept this,
You dont get a say in the matter, the wheezing old man smirked. This is to make up for all those lost years. Your father can do nothing about this, the Marquis sneered. Aside from that, this is to help aid in your dream of speaking out against racial injustice. Money buys ears like nothing else. And you need all the ears you can get on your side in the face of the status quo, He stopped to pause for a moment, not out of senility, but because he was just reminded of something.
Also, for the love of your God, buy yourself a better wardrobe with that money!
You too, Xuchang! I cannot believe the two of you are still unmarried! he berated.
Were only in our early twenties, father, Yang piqued up.
And thats the biggest shame Ive ever had to endure in my lifetime, the old man shook his head.
The father and son continued to venture down that road of conversation for some time with the Marquis tormenting his own son to great delight. Mohammed just listened and laughed in earnest. Inside, he was trying to suppress the cold, uncomfortable feeling inside that someone so close to him was going to die soon. But a part of him felt detached, like he had grown desensitized to the nature of death. These conflicting feelings continued to plague him as he continued to put on a face. At some point in the conversation, the Marquis attention returned on his nephew.
Whats wrong, Mohammed?
Well Uncle, its just that youre dying,
How astute, the old man laughed.
Doesnt it bother you at all? Mohammed asked.
Im very much looking forward to my stay in Di Yu. Perhaps Ill drop by Christian Hell and prod your father with a firebrand whenever he cares to join me in death, the Marquis replied with a devilish glint.
Father, that doesnt make me feel any better either, Mohammeds cousin protested.
Of course it doesnt. Thats why I said it, the Marquis laughed.
Just please laugh, boys.
Laugh at me,
laugh at your mothers,
laugh at yourselves; just do it for me, because I would hate to pass on with the final memory of seeing you two in such a sorry state,
Will you do that for me?
Mohammed and Yang shared an apprehensive glance and then did their best to relax themselves.
Ill try, Father, Yang said while holding back the sorrow at the gates.
The Marquis passed away two days after.
The funeral was held promptly afterwards in the courtyard of the estate.
Even though the buzz was going around Tokyo that the Marquis had finally passed, the funeral commenced in private, with only family and close friends in attendance. Both Mohammed & Yang were at the front, kneeling prostrate atop the cushions that lay before the portrait and coffin of the late Marquis. The portrait itself would become a permanent fixture of the estate, embodying the spirit of the jovial nobleman while the coffin, along with the body was to be later turned to ashes.
I dont want that money, Mohammed mused as he sat atop the sunset hill overlooking Tokyo after the funeral was over.
Neither do I, but were legally bound to use some of it at the very least, Yang responded as he sat beside his cousin. My father was dead serious when he wanted us each to buy twelve sets of new robes,
I dont even know where to start with purchasing a new wardrobe, Mohammed said quietly.
Youre telling me, Yang said. He sighed.
We can never go back, can we? Life before the military,
No, we cant. But that doesnt mean we cant look forward, Mohammed imparted.
Youre supposed to leave on the morrow for Huiji, right? his cousin asked.
Yes, Im going to Wa with Choi & Morita, came the answer.
Theres something I need to see through to with those two when we arrive in Kyoto.
In fact, I should begin packing now for the trip to Huiji or else those two are just going to depart without me,
Take care then, cousin. Yang said.
Ill be back before you know it, Mohammed assured.
The two cousins embraced, and then parted ways.
The main Tortoise Armada fleet prepares for the assault on the Philippines.
Emperor Xia Pei wishes to make it known that no sea or mountain can limit the reach of his wrath.
We were recalled from Kampuchea after the capital fell. The War had not completely ended of course, but Nobles who still held fiefs across the battered land had hoped that with the fall of Yasodhapura, and the death of the God-King, that Emperor Xia Pei would relent and stay his hand against them.
They thought wrong.
Xia Pei had vowed to crush any who had served the God-King and were complicit in the drug schemes orchestrated by the ruler. And to that end, the still fresh Southern Reinforcement Army rampaged in Indochina, picking off remnants of the once-proud Kampuchean Army with ease. Even on the high seas, the remnants of the Kampuchean Empire could not find any respite. Tortoise Armada vessels prowled the Gulf of Siam and headed off for the Philippines with new intelligence gathered from the captured capital pointing the way.
Minority groups such as the Kinh & the Thais were granted tax breaks and respectable portions of the war booty as a show of good faith. Nao Caste ministers were aggressively trying to push the notion to these peoples that they did not just trade one cruel overlord for another. Caste strictures were allowed to not come into effect for the occupied regions for a grace period of fifty years. There was still much rebuilding to do so there was no shortage of employment in the conquered cities but the countryside needed to be cleansed of bandits.
Captain Yue returned to his hometown to recover.
His wound was not too significant after all and it was said that he would be back up and walking in a few months.
Thats more than I could say for the numerous men who returned with a disability or disfigurement of some sort.
I will keep the good Captain in my thoughts.
Shao & Han are still on my thoughts. They've left a big impact on me but it's painful to remember them because my mind always rewinds to the moments of their deaths.
I don't know if I can ever come to terms with it.
When I finally returned to Tokyo, my cousin and I received the news that the Marquis was dying. We had been out on the campaign for what, six? Eight months? I couldnt believe my dear uncle was dying, it seemed like it wasnt too long ago that I was just listening to him tell me one of his outrageous jokes. My cousin and I made our way to the Estate with great haste.
A scouting ship discovers a Kampuchean remnant stronghold on the island of Borneo. The Tortoise Armada begins to devise a plan of attack.
Kampuchean remnants from the countryside make an ill-fated attempt to recapture the capital.
The Marquis laid on his deathbed with an attendant on the side. For a dying man, he still had sharp eyes and caught notice of his son and nephew entering the room.
Come closer, you two, he beckoned.
Father Yang mumbled quietly, unable to speak with strength at the sight of his dying father.
I wanted to talk to you two about my will, the Marquis said.
Uncle, it wouldnt be right to listen to that now, Mohammed protested.
No, no, no, this is important and I want you two to listen, the old man insisted.
Xuchang. I am leaving to you the estate, the majority share of my fortune and my title. Not that the title will do you any good; nowadays, its just fluff. Please take care of your mother. Shes a strong woman but at this time, shell need you more than ever, especially now that youve come back from the War. Im not going to give you a long-winded speech and all because Ive given plenty of those to you while you were growing up. I just need you to do one thing for me. And that is not to deploy to the Northeastern Frontier or anywhere else. Your mother is already going to lose me and I wont let her lose you,
Very well, Father, Yang said weakly.
The Marquis tilted his head to address Mohammed next.
Mohammed, you are very dear to me, I hope you understand, the aged Marquis began to speak.
Do you remember all of the New Years celebrations that have come and gone over the years? Every year, I always wanted to give you a large hóng bāo because you were a favorite nephew of mine but your father insisted I be more humble with my bequeathments. He didnt want to spoil you. I know your formative years were hard, despite being tied to a family of wealth and prestige. It helped you to build character. It helped you to develop that strong voice you have now. Not your singing though; its quite terrible to tell you the truth,
Mohammed was trying to balance the inconsistencies between simultaneously praised & poked fun at in one breath while he was reminded that his uncle was still dying.
You can read over the terms of my will, the old man motioned with his left hand.
The attendant by the bedside handed a sheet of parchment for the veteran soldier to go over.
This Uncle this is too much surely- Mohammed put the paper down, I cant accept this,
You dont get a say in the matter, the wheezing old man smirked. This is to make up for all those lost years. Your father can do nothing about this, the Marquis sneered. Aside from that, this is to help aid in your dream of speaking out against racial injustice. Money buys ears like nothing else. And you need all the ears you can get on your side in the face of the status quo, He stopped to pause for a moment, not out of senility, but because he was just reminded of something.
Also, for the love of your God, buy yourself a better wardrobe with that money!
You too, Xuchang! I cannot believe the two of you are still unmarried! he berated.
Were only in our early twenties, father, Yang piqued up.
And thats the biggest shame Ive ever had to endure in my lifetime, the old man shook his head.
The father and son continued to venture down that road of conversation for some time with the Marquis tormenting his own son to great delight. Mohammed just listened and laughed in earnest. Inside, he was trying to suppress the cold, uncomfortable feeling inside that someone so close to him was going to die soon. But a part of him felt detached, like he had grown desensitized to the nature of death. These conflicting feelings continued to plague him as he continued to put on a face. At some point in the conversation, the Marquis attention returned on his nephew.
Whats wrong, Mohammed?
Well Uncle, its just that youre dying,
How astute, the old man laughed.
Doesnt it bother you at all? Mohammed asked.
Im very much looking forward to my stay in Di Yu. Perhaps Ill drop by Christian Hell and prod your father with a firebrand whenever he cares to join me in death, the Marquis replied with a devilish glint.
Father, that doesnt make me feel any better either, Mohammeds cousin protested.
Of course it doesnt. Thats why I said it, the Marquis laughed.
Just please laugh, boys.
Laugh at me,
laugh at your mothers,
laugh at yourselves; just do it for me, because I would hate to pass on with the final memory of seeing you two in such a sorry state,
Will you do that for me?
Mohammed and Yang shared an apprehensive glance and then did their best to relax themselves.
Ill try, Father, Yang said while holding back the sorrow at the gates.
The Marquis passed away two days after.
The funeral was held promptly afterwards in the courtyard of the estate.
Even though the buzz was going around Tokyo that the Marquis had finally passed, the funeral commenced in private, with only family and close friends in attendance. Both Mohammed & Yang were at the front, kneeling prostrate atop the cushions that lay before the portrait and coffin of the late Marquis. The portrait itself would become a permanent fixture of the estate, embodying the spirit of the jovial nobleman while the coffin, along with the body was to be later turned to ashes.
I dont want that money, Mohammed mused as he sat atop the sunset hill overlooking Tokyo after the funeral was over.
Neither do I, but were legally bound to use some of it at the very least, Yang responded as he sat beside his cousin. My father was dead serious when he wanted us each to buy twelve sets of new robes,
I dont even know where to start with purchasing a new wardrobe, Mohammed said quietly.
Youre telling me, Yang said. He sighed.
We can never go back, can we? Life before the military,
No, we cant. But that doesnt mean we cant look forward, Mohammed imparted.
Youre supposed to leave on the morrow for Huiji, right? his cousin asked.
Yes, Im going to Wa with Choi & Morita, came the answer.
Theres something I need to see through to with those two when we arrive in Kyoto.
In fact, I should begin packing now for the trip to Huiji or else those two are just going to depart without me,
Take care then, cousin. Yang said.
Ill be back before you know it, Mohammed assured.
The two cousins embraced, and then parted ways.
The main Tortoise Armada fleet prepares for the assault on the Philippines.
Emperor Xia Pei wishes to make it known that no sea or mountain can limit the reach of his wrath.
Duke of Britain
Emperor
- Joined
- Jul 15, 2009
- Messages
- 1,600
Nice, you're massive and all that
will you keep expanding or you stop after you kill Khmer?
will you keep expanding or you stop after you kill Khmer?
christos200
Never tell me the odds
will you colonize America?
EDIT: Good story.
EDIT: Good story.
hoplitejoe
Top fun-poster
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2010
- Messages
- 5,470
Never stop expanding!!!
Optical
The Fall of the Eleventh
Yet another excellent chapter 
I keep thinking this story couldn't get any more epic... then it does! Bravo!
I keep thinking this story couldn't get any more epic... then it does! Bravo!
strijder20
Wallowing in irony
Excellent story.
And I'd like to note this story is BETTER than PotU: It might be equal in writing, but this one does get updated
Well, to be honest I like PotU slightly better - but the fact you, someone who has a job/is learning for a job which hasn't to do with writing at all, makes stories so close to the quality of the stories of a professional writer indeed certainly deserves an applause.
Not to mention the enormous effort you have put in writing this.
Keep up the good work!
And I'd like to note this story is BETTER than PotU: It might be equal in writing, but this one does get updated
Well, to be honest I like PotU slightly better - but the fact you, someone who has a job/is learning for a job which hasn't to do with writing at all, makes stories so close to the quality of the stories of a professional writer indeed certainly deserves an applause.
Not to mention the enormous effort you have put in writing this.
Keep up the good work!
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