The Longest Journey Home

[hewligan]

game screenshot? You said you had one for a few posts ago.

Choxorn - I will upload pics for the previous two posts tonight. I am at work, and the screenshots are all on my computer at home. I am still playing this game, and victory is still not certain by any means. It is playing out as a fantastic game, far and away the most fun I have had so far with CivIII. I have about 36 screenshots saved at the moment, probably about 50 in total by end game. It is just that they get a bit more frequent as the game hots up (middle ages onwards).

EDIT: I have added 3 screenshots to the previous post.

 

[choxorn]

Okay, Now I am satisfied. Screenshots appearing often would be nice.

 

[hewligan]

Kitaru excused himself from Taru, and set off for his small apartment within the palace building. He had to collect his flag spear, and don his ceremonial cloak. As soon as he found himself alone in his small room, he started to shake.

His mother had not always been so cold and unapproachable. He could still recall the warm side of her nature, but it had progressively chilled as he had grown in age. For the last two years she had hardly spoken a word to him, and when she did it was generally a snapped put-down to remind him that he was, and would remain, a child in her eyes.

For a few seasons now his military comrades had been whispering subtle suggestions that really it was his right to rule, and that if he waited for the Dowager to cede control, he could be waiting a very long time. He had ignored them. She was his mother. He loved her. He had once trusted her. But then she herself had grown increasingly erratic. Her actions began to lose their veneer of protective motherliness. It had become clear that she did not want him to rule, that she felt the position was far beyond his capabilities. She was wrong.

It was last night that he had finally decided to act. He had sat at council and listened to the report from the messenger from New Republic. The Dowager had seemed troubled by the news of barbarian stirrings, but had failed to act. Patience, she had argued, was required. Perhaps withdrawing from New Republic and returning to Valedorn's Hope would be the wisest course of action. Kitaru was having none of it. To abandon their first settlement would be to abandon all hope of ever becoming a great nation. The Colonists and the Puppets already had numerous towns under their control, and already the Lancers were falling behind. Giving up on the great project to secure the peninsula for their own at such an early point would effectively have been national suicide.

He had tried to raise this at the council, but she had prevented him from speaking, telling him to hold his tongue while the Elders debated the issue. He had risen and left. Leadership was not a gift bestowed, it was a burden grasped, and he knew what he had to do.

But now, in this private moment, the child in him rose up. All of the nerves and fears of the venture ahead and the trouble he would be leaving behind, came back to him. He hunched there, just inside the door of his apartment, and tried to gather himself.

----- The Ride To New Republic -----

The departure from Valedorn's Hope had been both uplifting and sad. Parents had come out to wave their sons and daughters farewell. There was great pride reflected in their eyes, but also a fear that their child would not return. Kitaru did not bother scanning the crowd, for he knew his mother would not mark his passing.

He lead the procession of riders on their way, holding his Red Dragon spear flag proudly at his side, braced against his right hip and shoulder. It snapped and weaved behind him on a stiff wind, looking to those who watched as if the dragon was in flight. It was, they would later say, the sign of the birth of a true leader.

The journey had been long and tiring, and the original high spirits among the battalion of archers had started to temper as the distance to New Republic lessened. The gravity of what was about to occur was fast becoming a reality. Battle, blood, and quite possibly death, would await them.

As it happened, it did not await. Instead it had decided to come out and meet them. They were still a day out from New Republic when the attack came. Taru had spotted movement along a north-western bluff, and had called it to the company's attention. Figures could be seen running at full speed towards a distant rise that lay dead ahead. They had carried on, vigilent and afraid.

The defiant voices of hollering natives had filtered through to them a good mile out from the rise. They kept slowly moving forward, keeping their horses steady. The hill ahead was getting close enough to see quite clearly the cluster of natives. There were about twenty, perhaps a touch more, and they were holding short handled axes, and stone headed spears. It was the worse kept secret ambush ever!

The Lancers continued their slow movement forward until Kitaru signalled the stop. As one they dismounted, and began to thread their bows, holding them in the downward position. They formed up as a single unit, two deep, and began moving along the road towards the hollering group of natives.

The gutteral screams of the natives rose to a crecendo, and then they started their surge down the side of the hill and into the path of the Lancers, axes raised aloft, speared being pulled back, ready to be thrown in the air.

"Release!" shouted Kitaru, raising his bow, closing one eye, and trying to judge the likely position of the charging attackers at the point that the arrow would strike the ground. He felt the string go taut, and then the twang of release. It was followed by the sound of the other strings releasing their flight of arrows into the air. And then the manic re-stringing began.

Kitaru mechanically went through the motions of pulling a second arrow from his quiver and fitting it to the string. The barbarians were falling upon them quickly, closing the gap at alarming speed. The first hail of arrows started their lazy descent to earth, singing as they spun towards the ground. And them WHAM. One, two, three. Only three natives fell. The rest surged on. They had misjudged the pace of their attackers.

"Wait!" he shouted. "Wait, and then fire straight ahead when they get within range. I want first rank, falling back, second rank, and then first rank on spears." They knew the drill.

The front six archers pulled tight on their bows and held steady, aiming straight ahead. As the barbarians reached around 80 paces they loosed and immediately crouched to the ground. The second row of six moved forward two steps.

One, two, .... thwack, thwack. The chaos of noise. Screaming in animal voices. Four fell heavily to the soil, their companions jumping over their writhing bodies. One continued his run, an arrow shaft sticking akwardly from his chest.

"Release!". And the second wave fired. The natives were forty paces now. Four more fell. The second row moved back, frantically dropping bows as they moved to release their hand axes. Kitaru was crouched to the ground, his spear lying beside him. They had drilled this. One row fire, second row fire, first row brace, second row fall back, first row raise spear, second row draw axes. First row impale, second row attack, first row prepare axes, then join the attack. It had been drilled a hundred times, but this was different.

Twenty paces. Ten paces. Five paces. "Now!" He lifted his spear up against the attackers, placing his body hard behind it, ready for the rushing bodies to hit. The adrenaline was surging. He felt strangely elated. And then the barbarians hit hard. He saw his spear slide into the chest cavity of a native, its face forming an almost comic expression of shock. The shaft shattered under the force of the charge, and Kitaru fell back under the falling corpse. And then the second row joined the fray.

Voices were raised in fury and pain. Kitaru was hacking and kicking at the barbarians before him, completely swept up in the mayhem of the battle. And suddenly it was over. The horde broke and started to flee in a disorganised rout. Kiratu took a wild lunge at one as he tried to speed past, his axe firmly connecting with the barbarian's back, and felling him.

They chased down the rout for a few hundred yards, before eventually calling it off. Of the 20 or so attackers, 3 had made it to the safety of the trees.

"We will get them another day." offered Kitaru. "But for now let us continue on to New Republic and see if it still stands."

 

[hewligan]

New Republic nestled against the coast, a tiny sprawl of wooden cabins, with a quickly erected watch tower standing central. Kitaru's heart rose when he saw the town still standing, for he had feared that they would be too late. But it was there, and there was life movng among its buildings. He raised the flag spear high, letting it flow behind him, and spurred his warriors on towards the distant town.

As they made the final approach, Lancers started to run towards them, broad smiles upon their faces, hands waving greetings at the warriors that had come to their aid. Kitaru could not help but smile. Many of these young settlers had been his friends back in Valedorn's Hope, and he knew that the success of this settlement was vital for the continued expansion of his people.

-----

That first night in New Republic was one that Kitaru would always remember. The heavy burden of the earlier battle still played on the minds of his warriors, their silence and introspection over the past days ride speaking of the difficulty in coming to terms with the horrors of war. But then the feast had been arranged. A giant fire pit was dug, and a sheep slaughtered in their honour. Together the people set about preparing a great feast, and the heavy wines of his people were drunk in vast quantities.

Kitaru had regailed the gathering with the story of the ambush, the tactics they had used to repel the barbarians, and his plans for the days ahead. They laughed and cheered the arrival, heady with the removal of the constant fear of extinction they had been living under. They told Kitaru of their watch-tower, and the repeated attacks upon their town. They told him of the Lancers that had been lost in battle, and the deep cellars they had dug beneath their huts in which to hide the children during the raids.

From the tales they told, it seemed to Kitaru that the barbarians had only been testing the defences. No large assault had occurred, and hopefully now that they had engaged and destroyed a large number of barbarians en-route here, perhaps that assault would never come.

But he would make sure of that! He talked long into the night of his plans for the Lancers. Of the need to secure the peninsula as their own, untouched by foreign settlers. They would need to secure it first from the natives that dwelt here, for they had shown themselves to be a dangerous distraction, but then in time they would need to secure it against the Puppets and Colonists. He spoke of the need for great military strength, and the willingness to use it, and the people soaked up his every word. For the first time since the departure of Kai, before many of those present here had even been born, the Lancers had a leader they could place their dreams in.

-----

A week had passed, and his warriors were healed, rested, and readied for the coming assault on the natives' home. A young Lancer scout from New Republic was leading them to the deep forest home of the barbarians, the very forests, rich with dyes, wood, and food, that had drawn the first Lancer settlement here.

They had left their horses behind, they would be useless in this terrain, and had gone ahead on foot. For two days they had trecked through the deep forests, Kitaru privately at awe of the ancient, massive trees that seemed to tower to the very sky. The floor of the forest was thick with foilage, making progress difficult, and Kitaru never once lost the feeling of being watched.

It would be difficult terrain in which to fight. The efficacy of his archers would be dimished. They could not send distance volleys into the sky, for they would just hit branches and foilage before crashing to earth. That meant that they would need to rely in short distance archers, and then engage with either spears of daggers. It would be less clinical than the last battle, and therefore likely to be significantly more costly to his people.

"Ahead, the path dips towards a powerful river. They live on this bank of it, in tiny mud huts. It is about a mile from here." The scout looked nervous, as if he really did not want to go any further.

"Fine." Kitaru replied. "Wait here for our return." And so it was begun.

-----

They had crept forward from tree to tree, strung out in a thin line, trying desperately to remain concealed. Kitaru led the way, feeling his heart burning within his chest. This was going to be messy. Very messy.

And then he had sight of it. The path fell away down a steel slope, and at the bottom of this levelled out a long flat treeless bank. The river could be heard in the distance, smashing and charging its way through the forest. He peered against the poor light. Thirty seven domed huts. Many forms moving among them. They did not, he was happy to see, seem aware of the Lancer presence. He waited patiently until his warriors gathered up beside him, all crouched together in the mud, looking down on the distant village.

"Unfortunately we are out of range from here, otherwise we could pepper them with a couple of volleys. As it is, they would probably just flee into the forest if we did that. We need to take them out for once and for all. Complete annihilation. It is, quite simply, them or us, and I sure as hell don't plan on it being us."

"Alright, the plan. Advance in two groups, first wave left towards that natural gradient over there. You should be able to cut off that point of exit. Once you get there, prepare your bows, and wait for my signal. On signal run forward firing. Continue firing into the village until you get close, and then engage anyone in your path with whatever you have. Second wave, you are coming with me. We are taking the scenic route, straight down the path and into the heart of the village."

The first wave splintered off, heading through the trees off to the right. Kitaru waited until they were in place, and then turned to his own small group.

"We killed a fair amount of their strong and able last week, so this should just be mopping up. I need you to be brave, but I also need you to be heartless. Everything falls before us. Everything!" He waited for the nods. They did not appear hesitant in the least. Perhaps they were falling in with his vision for the Lancers.

He took his own bow from his shoulder and threaded an arrow against the string. Then, standing, he motioned his own men to began the mad assault down the hill and into the village. As he ran, his heart pounding, he began his battle cry, calling the nature spirits to his side. The first wave broke and started charging down the left hill. Arrows started flying. Screams were raised.

It was chaos. The barbarians seemed lethargic, unprepared, confused. Too many of them stood around staring, jaws hanging open in surprise. It was only when the first had falled, writhing and screaming as arrows pierced their flesh, that the rest seemed shaken from their group torpor. They ran in confusion, moving towards and then away from one group of attackers, falling into range of the second. More arrows were released as the distance to the village fell, and more barbarians fell. Kitaru dropped his bow now and pulled the spear from its cross binding on his back.

Some natives came with weapons now, a small group of mainly young males, running with their looping movement, towards Kitaru's wave. They fell so easily, untrained and unorganised. He thrust his spear so deep into the chest of one that it tore the shaft from his grip, leaving the spear embedded deep within the writhing youth. Kitaru pulled his dagger and continued on, moving between the huts now, slashing and plunging with his knife at all that moved.

The resistance was weak. And when it fell, the true horrors began. Those that fled into the forest and made it past the spears and blades of the Lancers, were ignored, but those that sought shelter within the huts were hunted down one by one and slain. It was brutal work. Horrific work. But to Kitaru it was essential for the survival of his people. To leave an embittered young generation of natives alive, simply because they were young and he was kind, would spell future disaster for his people, for these youths would one day rise up and seek revenge. No, for the good of the Lancers, this tribe must be wiped out completely. The Lancers would have their peninsula, regardless of the cost!

-----

Kitaru sat alone on the river bank, his naked feet hanging in the chill waters that rapidly gurgled past. Behind him his battalion, under Taru's control, were demolishing the huts, searching them for treasures as they went. The final mop-up had ended, and now was the looting and destroying. It would continue late into the night, before food would be taken, and wine drunk, and personal demons exorcised.

Kitaru was both horrified at what he had seen and done, yet also strangely emboldened and proud. His people needed a strong vision, and he had started to put that in place. When he returned to Valedorn's Hope victorious, it would be to assume complete leadership of his people, regardless of what his mother wanted, and to ensure that his Strong Roots, Long Arms policy became universal among his people. Now was not a time for weakness. Now was a time for strength!

 

[hewligan]

----- 30 years from founding of the Lancer nation -----

"But you are going to be gone for so long, Daddy. Please don't go!"

Amarinth felt his brow crease with sadness. His little girl was looking up at him, tears in her eyes. "Please Daddy. Please!"

He bent down and lifted her up onto his chest. Her dangling legs latched onto his hips, gripping him with her knees, as he hugged her close. His wife gave him a sorry look, a "I knew this would be difficult" shrug. She was rocking his youngest child back and forth, feeding the sleepy child on her breast. The middle girl was sitting on the floor playing with her wooden doll. Three beautiful daughters. He was a blessed man.

He turned to the little face that was staring intently at him. "Daddy has to go, angel. That is how Daddy puts food on the table. It will be three months, at most. It may feel like a long time, but it will pass quickly, and Mama will take good care of you. And then the sobbing began.

-----

Amarinth still walked with a slight limp, despite the long passage of the years since the spear had pierced his thigh. In that time he had made six trips to London, escorting the envoy, taking messages, carrying out trade, and in general keeping the flow of communication between the Lancers and the Colonist nations moving smoothly. He had also taken the first batch of settlers out to the spot that became the town of New Republic, and had finished his mapping of the southern tip of the Lancer Peninsula, as it had now been rather unimaginatively named. But it was this next mission that would be the longest single expedition he would have embarked upon. He was travelling to visit the infamous Puppet Master. He would be guiding an envoy mission that were hoping to establish formal relations with the Puppet nation. Given all of the frightening rumours he had heard of their immortal despot, he was secretly dreading the experience.

After establishing an embassy with the Puppet Master, Amarinth was due to continue on in an effort to map out the lands further to the west. He would be taking two other riders with him, with one returning every ten-days, carrying updated maps, and any trinkets or knowledge collected on their travels. At the end of the 30 days, he himself was to turn round and return to Valedorn's Hope. The entire trip would take at most 3 months, assuming it all went according to plan.

The idea for the mission had been proposed by Kitaru on his victorious return from New Republic, and the quelling of the hordes. The people had seen the wisdom of his less isolationist approach, but it had been a marked change to the long years under the dowager, and the elders had still forced endless debates, with payment to the scouts and envoys seeming to be the most contentious issue. Amarinth had no time for these things. He knew his people could not grow strong by living in the dark. He shared Kitaru's vision. They had to start reaching out to other nations, building alliances, establishing trade routes, and generally moving beyond their tiny borders. It would be expensive for his people to fund these embassies and explorations, but it could be fatal to sit and wait for the world to come to them.

And finally word had come to him from Taru that the mission was on. Kitaru had put his foot down, and the next stage of the Lancers empire began. 'Strong roots, long arms', was the new policy, and Kitaru the new undisputed leader of the Lancers.

-----

"Cold, isn't it!" offered the envoy to the Puppets. He was a short man, heavily bearded and very much a no-nonsense kind of guy. We was well liked among the Lancers, being a second generation Lancer with complete loyalty to Kitaru. He was travelling with his young wife, and if the overtures for an envoy were accepted by the Puppets, he was in line to spend 5 years in their city before the next rotation. He seemed quite upbeat about it all, laughing and joking among the men on the long journey into Puppet lands. "Cold enough to freeze horse piss!" he continued. "I can't say I like this outdoor life much. Are you sure you guys are going to be able to spend another month or two in the wild after you leave Delhi? It is the middle of the damn winter. You could wake up one morning to find your legs frozen to the soil!"

Amarinth smiled to himself, but let one of his younger scouts take up the conversation. He was too focused on the task at hand, scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble. He could recall his meetings with the first Puppets many years ago. They had been tall, pale, and very unwelcoming. What had struck him this time was how fast they had expanded. The tiny farming community he had stumbled upon 8 years ago was now a town of well over a hundred people. They still seemed miserable to Amarinth, speaking in fearful hushed tones of their Puppet Master leader, and his hidden informers. Most of all they seemed to fear a group of warriors he surrounded himself with called the Enforcers. Amarinth could not imagine living under such an oppressive regime. Still, it was not his job to judge. It was his job to guide the envoy to Delhi, the capital city, and then to continue on in a great map-making exercise. It wouldn't be long now, just a few more days in the saddle, and then they
would finally get to lay eyes on the seat of power of their closest neighbour.

----- The Puppet Master -----

People had watched them from the side of their eyes as the small Lancer party rode through the streets of Delhi towards the black wooden palace. The thick square-cut wooden beams that made up the forboding wall of the building had been blanched in flame to darken then, and the result was a deeply menacing building that seemed to huddle with menacing intent upon the rock spur in the middle of the city.

It was a bustling town, almost twice the size of Valedorn's Hope. They must breed like rabbits, thought Amarinth, although he could not quite form the image of any of these citizens ever being happy enough to bother with procreation. It worried him deeply, the size, the nearness to Lancer lands, the whispered fear of their leader ... it all seemed to add up to a recipe for future trouble. Not today, he told himself. No trouble today!

As they approached the base of the volcanic spur that the palace building sat upon, two black robed guards moved to block their path, long metal tipped spears crossing to form a barrier.

"State your purpose." One commanded, his face hidden in the shadow of his cowled hood.

The envoy moved forward, all smiles and outstretched arms. "I am Thoralain, envoy of the great Lancer nation. We seek council with your wise Lord, and would wish to establish mutually beneficial contact between our magnificent nations." His horses neighed nervously.

"Wait!" ordered the same guard, before turning and walking slowly up the thin path towards the palace.

They waited.

-----

The envoy and Amarinth moved forward slowly. Their companions, including the envoy's wife, had been forced to remain outside. All weapons have been stripped from them, and they had been slowly marched up the steep path and into the cavernous entrance to the palace.

The place smelled strongly of incense, the smoke from the tall brass burners filling the long room with tendrils of haze. Several black robed guards stood silhouetted in the shadows, their tall spears glinting in the thin shards of light that filtered from the distant pin-prick slits in the walls. Amarinth moved forward, deeper into the room.

There was a noise, a faint gurgling, emanating from up ahead. He didn't like this. It didn't feel right. The envoy at his side was doing his best to act cheerful, picking out interesting details in the room and regailing them to Amarinth. "Oh, will you look at that fabulous stained glass motif. What does that represent? A raven perhaps ..."

The guard stopped before a large bronze door. He moved his right hand to lift a giant raven headed door knocker, and then slammed it hard against the door. The dull metal on metal din shook through the building, seeming to set the room temporarily to life. And then the door began to swing open.

"You may enter" announced the guard, his hand gesturing into the room.

Amarinth and the envoy stepped forward. The room was smaller than the first, and without any natural light. It was lit by two fluttering lanterns, swaying gently on thin chains from the towering ceiling. In the centre of the room stood a large alien contraption, a mess of pipes and metal, with a soft light emanating from the base. It was a considerable size, as tall and wide as a horse, only it had a circular base and broadly conical shape, albeit hidden under a mass of dangling tubing, pipes and extremities. In the centre of the mass of metal nestled a glass cocoon. It was, much to Amarinth's disgust, occupied.

A thin, rasping voice scratched out from the vicinity of the machinery. "Welcome to Delhi, envoy of the Lancers. I am the Supreme Leader of the Enichrol. You may have heard another name for me, feel free to use it." The voice stopped briefly, as if to let air reflood the lungs before it continued. "Our people are strong, your people are weak, and you seek our wisdom, do you not?"

Envoy Thoralain appeared a lot more composed that Amarinth could believe. He stood forward another step before addressing the cocoon. "I am Envoy Thoralain of the Lancer nation. We seek to establish an embassy within your city, and work closely with you to strengthen the bonds between our nations. We have heard much of your wisdom, and we hope to share some of our own. Our nations can grow strong together!"

"Ha, ha, ha ... yes ... of course" the disembodied voice half coughed, half laughed. "We can grow strong together." It seemed amused. "Your people are confined to the eastern peninsula, are they not? Still, we accept you to our city. Our own little vassal state ...."

Amarinth shifted uncomfortably. There was great evil in this room, and great madness. Some monster lay within this alien equipment, and it made his skin creep.

Envoy Thoralain responded with calm words. "The establishment of MUTUAL trade contracts can work for all of us. We have dyes and wines of excellent quality..." He was ready to continue but the voice cut back in.

"Fine, whatever. You can talk of such things at length with my puppets. But for now ... well, I will order a house cleared for you. I am sure we have a family somewhere that needs relocating ... Leave me. The future can hold further discussion when I deem them necessary."

And so first contact with the Pupper Master was concluded. Amarinth was only too happy to depart that room as quickly as possible, but Envoy Thoralain looked hesitant, as if he wanted to clarify matters, or perhaps start all over again. The cowled guardsman approached them both, and, placing a hand on their shoulders, guided them out of the room and away from the monstrosity.

-----

GAME NOTES:

We established an embassy with the Puppet civ early on. Trading was
pretty weak with them.

 

[choxorn]

Um- didn't you say something about having 36+ screenshots??

 

[Jakt]

Hewligan, we're looking forward to the next installment. I have been lurking lately, and not giving the credit that this story is due. This and Pax Romana are currently the stories I bookmarked to start my morning with. You have set yourself up for an epic if you continue at your current pace in the story. It's writing like yours that keeps CivIII Stories and Tales more popular than the CivIV Stories and Tales page.

 

[hewligan]

Hewligan, we're looking forward to the next installment. I have been lurking lately, and not giving the credit that this story is due. This and Pax Romana are currently the stories I bookmarked to start my morning with. You have set yourself up for an epic if you continue at your current pace in the story. It's writing like yours that keeps CivIII Stories and Tales more popular than the CivIV Stories and Tales page.

Many thanks I will be continuing with this, with another installment tonight, and a second over the weekend. These two together will bring an end to the Amarinth tale, and after that we will be moving to a new, exciting period for the Lancers.

There are three phases of this game that were awesome to play, and I hope will be interesting to read. The game is completed now, although I won't reveal what happened.

And screenshots (Choxorn) ... I have lots, but at the early stage of the game the main shots are for city founding. The next two posts will have 2 screenshots in total (probably both in the second post), but after that the number of screenshots should be a bit more consistent (probably about 1 per post). I am not a big fan of screenshots as at times they can pull the reader out of the story and remind them that this was just a computer games. Still, I know people like to see them, and I am happy to post them.

Lastly - I have a 16 month old child, so there will be periods of relative quiet between frenzied updates.

 

[TheLoneMan]

Awesome story, my friend.

One thing - and I don't know if you even did this on purpose, but your storyline is almost exactly the same as the Sci-Fi mode of Civilization II: Test of Time.

I'm actually surprised that nobody picked that up.

Regardless, great job and I will be eagerly awaiting the next update.

 

[Blaze Injun]

Hey,

This has been a great read so far.

But it reminds me of Trigun or any number of Japanese animie that can be seen on Saturday night.


Blaze Injun

 

[choxorn]

I am not a big fan of screenshots as at times they can pull the reader out of the story and remind them that this was just a computer games.

Yes, but you do want to put at least 1 in per story chapter to give the reader a better idea of what's going on in the game (makes the story a little easier to follow), or because it's interesting, cool, or funny. As you said, "I know people like to see them, and I am happy to post them."

 

[hewligan]

Khor growled her discontent as Amarinth, Theral, and Mitsu finally left the crushing tumult of the great Puppet capital behind. It had been a depressing wait these last four days, hanging around the city, waiting for the heavy rains to stop, and in turn waiting for the fulfillment of their order of dried meats, nuts and berries to be supplied by the pathetic local merchants.

Amarinth had hated the entire time. This was a stifled city, with people shuffling around in a state of sullen silence. It was fear, mixed with resignation, and it hung around the people like the stench of death. Khor had clearly been unsettled by it too. She was old enough now to be only too willing to express her contempt, and she had spent most of the past four days in a foul sulk, head resting on graying paws, seeming to frown each time Amarinth approached her.

"I know Khor, I know" he reassured the old wolf, as the great arched gateway towered above them, temporarily casting them into shadow. "We are leaving now, and by the fortune of the kami we will never return to this ... place." He tempered his words, careful of the envoy's earlier words; "There are ears everywhere in this country, Amarinth. People that turn on their own."

He just kept walking, noticing that both Theral and Mitsu beside him seemed equally dejected. The place had that effect on everyone. Too many evil spirits, he thought. Not enough kami! But at least now they were free of the city. They would be out here for months, possibly as many as three, depending on what they found along the way. Their main objective was to map the lands, but Kitaru had also stressed to them that evidence of any other pod survivors was of paramount importance.

----- 12 Days Out -----

Amarinth huddled under the oiled leather tarpaulin, watching the piercing sheets of rain lash the hillside. It was a dire day, the sky a furious vortex of angry clouds, boiling across each other with malicious intent. The heavy din of thunder came rolling up the valley towards them. The rain god, Ryuu-oo, was angry. Something was brewing.

They had travelled out far from Delhi, taking a direct northern route towards the distant coast and harbour city of Lahore. The city had been less stifling than the horrid streets of the sprawling capital, but the same black robed enforcers were still in evidence, and the people still spoke of their Puppet Master in awed terms. He was, to them, some kind of god. A god with avarice and madness, perhaps, but also knowledgeable and powerful beyond belief. He was immortal, they claimed, and all seeing, and he ensured the strength of his people.

Amarinth was not so sure. Having been in the presence of the Puppet Master, he felt more that the man was insane, and more evil spirit than god. Still, it could not be denied that compared to the Lancer nation, the Puppets were much stronger. They had six cities, with a seventh due to be founded on the eastern coast of the mainland in the coming years. It was all part of a great plan of population growth and assimilation that the people were well drilled in. This, thought Amarinth, was what kept them working so hard. They had bought in to a vision of glory for their people. A vast nationalist drive to dominate the planet by populating it with their children. So far, it must be said, it was working.

But Lahore had been left behind two days ago. Amarinth had little time for towns, and even less so in this depressing country. The call of the wilderness was strong, and the quicker they could map the known lands, the quicker he could return to his beautiful wife and little girls.

The weather had pretty much turned against them the second they left Lahore, and it had not given them much slack ever since. Some great battle between the gods must be raging in the sky, for the heavens had been pouring down for close to 40 hours now, and the countryside was starting to get slick with the water. Earlier in the day they had watched a tree slide down the side of a distant hill, caught up in the formation of a massive sheet flow that turned half the side of the hill into a raging river of mud, water, and vegetation.

Theral and Mitsu snored beside him, Khor curled between them, stealing their heat. I should join them in rest, thought Amarinth, for the days ahead in this weather are going to be tough.

----- 14 Days Out -----

"What the hell ..."

Amarinth heard the strange scream from the depth of the forest, somewhere not far ahead. He turned to Theral who shrugged, a worried look on the young man's face. Mitsu moved forward, his right hand nervously twitching at the knife tucked in his belt. "That was not a happy noise!" he deadpanned.

The three men seemed to share a thought, for as one they began to jog towards the source of the noise, hands working to free bows and knives. Khor sped along side them at first, before breaking ahead and charging into the depths of the forest towards the source of the scream. The rain continued to lash down, striking dull notes as it hit the canopy of leaves above. 4 days of rain, a storm like they had never witnessed before.

Sodden soul squelched under foot as Amarinth stretched his jog into a run. There was something in that scream that had connected with them. It wasn't human, or even clearly animal, but it had contained great distress, and it had called him to it. He lowered his face to watch for obstacles in his path, and continued to thread his way forward.

The scream rose again, this time punctuated by other voices. Almost human, these ones, shouting, some screaming, barked commands perhaps, and notes of agony. They were running into a battle, he thought. They really ought to slow down and approach carefully, concealed. He thought this, but he felt compelled to continue his dashing run, catching glimpses of Khor up ahead, she too caught up in the desperation of the situation.

Then they were free of the forest, bursting into a massive glade, a small pond near the centre, some large moss covered boulders, and a rising hill, twisted and coiled above the canopy of trees. It was beautiful, the sort of glade the forest kami would inhabit, but it was teeming now with pale fleshed natives, their hands holding crude bone knives. There were many of them, perhaps twenty or so, their fur-free almost grey flesh, an pallid faces holding large black eyes that seemed to squint against the light, even in this overcast day. Amarinth had never seen anything like them before.

They were all facing the small twisted hill, oblivious to the three Lancer scouts who had just burst into the glade. His eyes followed the focus of the natives, watching them run in chaotic disorder, weapons brandished above their heads, voices shouting and screaming in fear and defiance. And then he saw it....

The creature was stunning. A huge red feathered dragon like bird, its tail glistening with yellow and blue feathers, its large beak raised to the heavens as if calling for aid. A shreak of horror erupted from it as one of the natives ran forward to thrust his tiny bone knife into its ribs. Amarinth could see the thin ropes that had been thrown over the beast, tangled around its left wing and leg. Two groups of barbarians clung desperately to each end of the rope, pulling and bracing against the slick mud. They were a constant blur of motion, slipping, falling, another running to grab the rope, another tentatively edging forward knife raised, side stepping in fear towards the thrashing beast.

The bird was immense, as tall as two men, and looked to be losing the battle. Amarinth hesitated, felt Theral and Mitsu slide to a halt beside him, waiting for his command. It was then that the great beast laid its eye upon him.

Amarinth felt his mind crowd with a blur of images. An alien presence touched him, and suddenly there was a clarity to the chaos that raged around him.

Images of flight. A distant mountain range. A cave home. The heavy rain. The unbearable conditions. Days of exhausting flight. A landing. Taking water. Rest. Sleep. The attack. The things had come up from the ground. Burrowers. Feral barbarians.

The kami was talking to him. He knew what he must do. The Lancers were a spiritual people. The revered nature, the shinto ways, the spirits of stone, water, a drop of rain, the purity of a ancient oak ... and this thing, this amazing creature, a figment of legend, was more than a kami, more than a simple spirit. This creature was a god of nature, an avatar of the god of flight. A true embodiment of the shinto way. He would protect it with his own life, if that is what it would take, for he saw in the majesty of this giant bird the perfection of nature and the great optimism of the world.

"Mitsu, Theral, take out those barbs on the rope there." He spoke calmly, with authority. The two young scouts immediately strung their bows and crouched into attack position. He turned towards one of the large rounded boulders, drawn to it by a natural calling. Atop it stood a short native, gesticulating and shouting orders at his warriors. A necklace of rodent and bird skulls was strung around his neck. I, thought Amarinth, will take out the leader.

He heard a twang behind him as Mitsu let loose his first arrow. Amarinth fell into the zone of pure concentration, threading the arrow, raising the bow, closing one eye tight, furrowing his brow, squeezing to a slit the other eye, shifting a half degree, judging the effect of the pounding rain on the arrow's flight, and then ...

'Thwang!'

It seemed to spiral through the rain. A scream rang out while his arrow was mid-flight. One of the barbarians on the near side of the rope fell to the soil, clutching a shaft that protruded from his rib cage. His black eyes were pools of fear and pain. Amarinth flicked back to watch his arrow. The native on the rock swung his head round to face him, noticing for the first time the humans in their midst. And then he saw the arrow. Spinning around its shaft. Singing against the rain.

'Crunch!'

It buried itself between his eyes. He stood there, attempting to stare in at it, some object where there should be none. And then he fell.

Amarinth was already threading his second arrow. Saw Theral doing the same. Mitsu about to release his. Some faint recognition of Theral's first burying itself in the shoulder of a native. Screams, barbarian screams. Mitsu released. Another on the rope found his life slip from him, an arrow driving deep into the flesh of his back. And suddenly the great bird was pulling free.

It swung its head towards the end of the rope that had only two natives still clinging desperately to it. One gave up the ghost and turned to run, slipping in the mud as he tried to scramble away from both the giant bird, and the arrows that had felled three of his comrades. Its eyes were wide with fear as it tried to clamour out of the way. One brave or foolish native held on to the rope, but its small frame braced against the slick mud was no match for the strength that remained in the kami.

The bird's beak came down, and CRACK. A horrid crunch echoed through the clearing, undulled by the rain. There was no scream as the last remaining native holding the rope was torn in two. The bird was still entangled, but now it was on the offensive!

Amarinth shouted at Khor "Come on girl!" as he ran forward into melee. His right hand freed the blade from his belt, and he prepared himself for the horror of battle once more. The adrenaline took him completely. His mind was throbbing with the blood, anger, anticipation. And then he was upon them, slashing, stabbing, gouging with his blade, while Khor at his side tore with tooth and claw at all who came close to her master. Amarinth tasted blood in his mouth as he fought, felt a cruel sting in his side, saw Theral take a blow to the face that seemed to pulp his nose, but the young scout just screamed in anger and attacked with renewed ferocity. Mitsu, wisely, had stayed back, peppering the natives with arrows, his sharp aim felling one, then a second, then a third.

Amarinth could not comprehend the passing of time. It could have been mere seconds, but suddenly he was beside the bird, still swinging at all who came close, still kicking and shouting at the top of his voice. The kami was entangled, but striking forward with its beak, beating its one free wing, trying desperately to free itself. Amarinth could see the fight flow out of the natives. There were still over ten standing, but the sneak attack by the Lancers had killed their leader, and removed any hope they had of regaining their priceless pray. Slowly at first one, then two, then a third, and finally en-masse, the turned and fled into the forest. Mitsu sent an arrow after them, burying into the shoulder of a retreating form, but the victim kept on running, the arrow jangling from back.

It was over. Carnage lay around them. There were piles of equipment, dropped in the soil, amidst the bodies of the fallen natives. The rain continued to pour with shocking intensity from the heavens. Amarinth edged forward towards the massive red bird like creature. Its size, the vibrancy of its colour, the wisdom in its eyes, eyes that regarded him with trepidation, they took his breath away. This, thought Amarinth, was a god. This embodiment of nature was surely a kami, a shinto spirit. He turned to Theral, motioned for him to stop, the same motion to Mitsu, a hand placed on the snout of Khor, and then he moved forward.

The beast twitched nervously. It could snap my head from my shoulders in an instant, Amarinth realised, but it is not going to. He looked up, made eye contact, and began to speak softly.

"I am Amarinth. I am going to cut the rope that binds you. I will not hurt you. Do you understand?"

it turned its head to one side, as if considering him.

"We are friends. You have no need to fear us." he continued, taking another step closer. And then the bird opened its beak, made a soft trill, and lowered itself slowly to he soil. It had understood.

Amarinth placed his left hand gently on its side. It was breathing heavily, exhausted from its exertions and fright. And then with his right hand he began to saw through the ropes that bound the beast. It appeared that they had been thrown over it from above, for the ends were bound around large boulders. They probably attacked it from the trees while it rested here. The first one splayed free, falling to the soil. He moved round the beast to start sawing at the second rope, and soon it too had fallen free. He took a step back, pulling the remains of the ropes with him, throwing the loose ends over the body of the bird.

"You are free now, spirit. Go home!" he offered. It raised itself, ruffled its feathers, and seemed to shiver with pleasure at the feeling of being free. And then it was off, lifting into the air in a widening spiral that slowly took it from their sight. When at last it was but a tiny dot against the dark clouds, Amarinth breathed a sigh of relief, and realised, for the first time, that he had bitten down on his own tongue during the battle. He spat a large wad of red blood into the soil, and grinned at his comrades.

"Well boys, we just saw a god!"

It was then, for the first time in four days, that the rain stopped.

-----

APOLOGIES - I promised 2 updates this weekend, but I only had time for one due to spending so much time with my son. I will post the second on Monday.

 

[choxorn]

Any updates, hewligan? It's been 10 days. Let me guess: school, right?

 

[hewligan]

----- 22 Days Out -----

Theral was scratching at the ground, drawing a rough map with the tip of his knife. Amarinth was half paying attention, half distracted by the stunning landscape that surrounded. They were just hills, half the size of the mountains that graced the Lancer peninsula, but they folded upon themselves with so many cascading shades of green, laced with tendrils of morning mist, that they appeared as if of some alternative reality. It was beautiful. Beautiful and empty.

Mitsu had departed for Valedorn's Hope a ten-day ago, laden with Amarinth's incredibly detailed maps of the terrain they had explored. He preferred to work at night, hunched over near the cooking fire, using the red hot tip of his blade to sear thin black lines into the sheets of cured hide they had brought with them. He had an eye for detail, and found the process of mapping the terrain quite submersive. He could sit there for hours, while the fire faded to embers, picking out tiny flecks of detail on the smooth hide. Forests, rivers, hills, points of interest, areas of fertility, areas where the tracks of large herd animals had been spotted. Grapes, strange plants, signs of civilisation, the lot. He mapped them out until the fire would fade to a point that no longer offered the heat to turn the tip of his knife red. And then he would sleep.

Mitsu had taken four large hide maps with him, and news of the kami. The spiritual well-being of the people was as important as the fullness of their bellies, and the incident with the kami had convinced Amarinth that some good would come to his people for their actions.

Theral was a quiet young man, but with the eyes of a wolf. He could spot movement far in the distance, and would often stop and stare for minutes on end, picking out some tiny detail in a distant valley that was worth investigating. The valley they were in now was nestled amidst the rolling hills of this unoccupied land. It would make a great, fertile homeland, thought Amarinth, but the Puppet nation lay between it and his people, and thus it was, for all intents and purposes, out of reach.

"This, here ..." continued Theral, finally catching Amarinth's wandering mind "is the path I think we should take. There have been faint signs of animal tracks heading in that direction, and it will take us directly west, across that distant ridge of hills. It should offer us good views of the surrounding lands." He was pointing at the scrawled marks on the ground, but Amarinth looked up instead, watching the sun begin its slow arc into the earth. The day was ending.

"Perhaps not." Amarinth interjected quietly. "Perhaps we should cut south for a few days. I have a feeling that if we are going to find that this fertile land has not gone undiscovered. Look, if there are other people out there, what better place to settle?"

Theral stopped, looked up, seemed to take in the landscape for the first time. "But we would have seen some signs" he stated.

"You would think, wouldn't you" agreed Amarinth. "Unless they have not populated this far north. The hills seem to fade off far to the south, and my guess is that there will be some plains there. That is where I would expect to see some signs of life, if there are any."

"Or more bloody jungle to navigate" grumbled Theral.

"Sure. That is just a likely. This land seems to be choked with the stuff. Okay, we will go with your route. West for a few more days, but I want to cut south soon. I have a feeling." Amarinth conceded.

Theral nodded acquiescence. "Agreed."

----- 23 Days Out -----

The distant hills had taken a day of quite enjoyable hiking to reach, but the final few hours of scrambling up their rocky sides had been much less appealing to both Amarinth and Khor. Theral didn't seem to break into a sweat during the process, but Amarinth was sucking down on water like a dying man when he finally reached the first summit.

The view it offered was magnificent. The distant western coast stretched before them, with tiny pin point flecks of white in the sky hinting at seagulls. It was time to map, and Amarinth guessed, to head south. After all, there was no chance in continuing west and into the sea.

----- 28 Days Out -----

"Jungle!"

Theral spat on the ground.

It didn't just fall upon them like a curtain, the signs had been coming for the last few days of walking. They had taken the coastal route south, following close to the sea, mapping out the coastline, and generally making good progress in a largely southern trek. At first the hills had given way to thick dried plains, with fetid watering holes and large herd tracks. Birds and rats were evident everywhere, and the dryness in the air seemed in stark contrast to the humidity of the grasslands and forests they had walked through two short weeks before.

Then the plain had started to give way to small outcrops of trees, bushes, strange plants that entwined one another. Animals were visible everywhere, flighty, nervous, always darting from their path, but providing a bounty of food to Theral's arrows. They had eaten a stew from the flesh of a bright green feathered bird the day before, and today Theral had two small mammals tied by their tails over one of his shoulders. Somewhat like rats, somewhat like dogs, Amarinth had thought at the time, but probably good eating. Khor most of all had been excited by the abundant fair, and had eaten more flesh in the last two days than she had in the previous ten.

At the back of their minds the two men had been expecting the jungle. They had witnessed a similar progression from plain to jungle on the eastern border of the Puppet nation, and here it was repeated here, far to the south west. It had been no surprise, but it had been a disappointment.

"We go on, through the jungle!" ordered Amarinth, his voice not holding quite the enthusiasm he had hoped. "But let's rest first, and fill our pouches with fresh water."

----- 34 Days Out -----

Theral dragged himself forward, pulling his useless leg behind him through the thick mud. The undergrowth was snagging on his clothes, the overwhelming stench of flowers and decaying fruit filled his nostrils, filled his mind. Behind him the screams of battle continued.

They had been attacked. Had stumbled into it. The natives seemed to be edgy, had attacked on sight. Amarinth was still down there, he had fallen. Theral glanced back at his leg. The spearhead had left a thick, ragged gash in his flesh. It didn't hurt anymore. It didn't feel of much. His entire body didn't feel of much.

The first attack had come at them from above. Natives in the trees raining down stones at first, and then plucking fruit and throwing that. It had almost been farcical, until one had struck Theral above the left eye. It was then they decided to flee, but flight had not been allowed.

The natives had given chase, hollering out their cries, seemingly summoning aid to their pursuit. Spears had rained upon them, and then arrows. Theral had never seen them use bows before. At that point the flight had taken on an even more urgent tone. These natives weren't trying to chase them away, they were trying to kill them.

So they had ran, and ran, and ran, with Khor streaking ahead, turning, waiting for them, and then bounding ahead again, her teeth bared in angst the whole time.

Amarinth had found it hard. An old injury made running difficult for him, and this was at the end of a long day of walking. Before long Theral had been finding himself having to check his run every few hundred yards, and wait for Amarinth to catch up. His friend looked older than he had ever recalled.

And then the first arrow had struck Amarinth. It didn't embed. It slashed across his shoulder, drawing out a thin arc of blood and a scream. More arrows fell perilously close. They had kept on running.

The second arrow hit Amarinth hard, spinning him in place, and forcing from his feet. Theral skidded to a stop, but Amarinth was already pulling himself up.

"Run you fool!" Amarinth had spat. "I will hold them off here. Make sure you take the maps back!"

And so Theral had ran, glancing back, already finding Amarinth out of vision among the thick foilage. A few arrows still fell upon him, but he ducked and weaved his way between the trees, trying to make himself a difficult target. But still, an arrow had hit, and hard, driving deep into his leg. He had fallen fast, taking blood into his mouth, biting down hard on his tongue. A gargled scream, and then the adrenaline.

So here he was, dragging his useless leg behind him, hearing still the hollering, the screams, the cries of battle. Why battle? Surely they would have taken Amarinth down by now. Were they still pursuing him? Theral tried frantically to pull himself to safety, away from whoever had hit him with an arrow.

And then he saw the man. Tall, blonde hair, long silver sword hanging from a black gloved hand.

"Quite moving, or I will pin you to the soil!" he barked. Theral quit moving.

 

[hewligan]

Choxorn, any one else that cares: I had a holiday last week in Scotland, and thus was not really worried about the internet, etc. I am back now, so hopefully updates will commence. I do not have a lot of free time though, so there are likely to be a couple of days between posts. Sorry for the massive delay in posting!

Last Amarinth post will follow shortly (perhaps this weekend if I get some time).

 

[choxorn]

A couple of days is nothing compared to the waits in TCPK, OMTT, VegVen (these three were locked due to spam ), The Treason of Isengard, and The Vanguard, all of which had usual waits of 3 weeks to 3 months.

 

[Jakt]

Good to see you continuing this saga! I've been checking back regularly hoping to get just another fix.

 

[choxorn]

Hello? hewligan, are you there?

 

[choxorn]

Come on, Hewligan, it's been 4 weeks already! Don't let this thread fall into the clutches of the spam (which it hopefully won't, unless D'artagnan59 finds this thread)!

 

[choxorn]

Come ON, hewligan. It's been 50 (50!!!) days since last update.
Don't make me tell the people who wait for updates in the Vanguard about this thread! Then spam will ensue!