Perfection
The Great Head.
Come on, I'm fricken leaning over in anticipation
The Spearman
- Thread starter Chingis Khan
- Start date
Chingis Khan
Scourge Of The World
And then...
A strange hum filled the battlefield, growing louder and louder as a deep throbbing sound increased in pitch also. Every head was now turned to the ledge where The Spearman stood. Every pair of eyes focused on The Spear.
The noise grew and grew, and then a new noise grew on top of that.
*BEEEEEP BEEEEP BEEEEP BEEEEEP*
The men down below seemed to give a universal shrug as nothing else happened. They resumed killing each other.
The Spearman turned to Mike with a look of disbelief and rage on his face, "You IDIOT! You grabbed the wrong spear! THIS IS MY ALARM CLOCK, YOU MORON!!!!"
Mike sputtered with indignation, "How the hell was I supposed to know the difference? Anyway, that's beside the point! You built up all that suspense for that? What the hell?"
The Spearman chuckled, "Heeeheehe, It was kinda funny how everyone down there got all worried, and stuff. But that doesn't matter. I have other powers I can call upon. Check this out..."
The Spearman's face went blank, and he started mumbling strange words under his breath as he swayed gently from side to side. Mike poked him a couple of times, but there was no response.
A strange white mist began to build up around the ledge, and Mike stared about him in growing alarm. The mist grew thicker and thicker until he could no longer see in front of his own nose. Then, without warning, the mist cleared, and The Spearman stood there coughing and spluttering.
A figure stood behind him.
It was dressed in all black robes.
And it held a scythe.
The Spearman wore a triumphant grin, and he danced around a little bit in celebration, "Hahahahaa! What did I tell you? I summoned Death himself to come fight for me! Hahahahaaa."
The dark figure walked toward them and held up a finger, "UMM, EXCUSE ME..."
Mike asked The Spearman, "You summoned Death? Holy cow! That is pretty cool, if you ask me."
"EXCUSE ME, BUT I THINK I SHOULD POINT OUT THAT..."
The Spearman made a bony fist, blew on it, and rubbed it on his chest, "Yeah, I know. I am pretty cool. Now there's no way we can lose."
Death sighed. He raised his Scythe and bought it down between the two. It made a hollow sound as it hit the ground. They both jumped and looked around in surprise.
"AHEM. NOW THAT I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, I SHOULD POINT OUT THAT I AM NOT ENTIRELY SURE THAT YOU CAN USE ME IN THIS FASHION."
The Spearman looked at Mike before saying, "What do you mean? I summoned you, I can use you. It's the rules."
Death looked a little embarrassed as he shifted his feet and replied in a small voice, well, a small voice for him, "YOU DID SUMMON ME, BUT I ALREADY TOLD ANOTHER GUY THAT I WOULD ONLY WORK FOR HIM. I SIGNED A CONTRACT AND EVERTHING."
There was a quiet pause. It stretched out into an uncomfortable silence.
"THERE MAY BE SOME COPYRIGHT ISSUES ALSO. I'M NOT SURE."
Another uncomfortable silence as The Spearman glared at Death. Death looked down and shifted his feet again.
"What do you mean, copyright issues? You're Death. No one has claim on you."
"AH, WELL, I TOLD THIS GUY THAT I WOULD DO BIT PARTS FOR HIM, SOME FUNNY STUFF, YOU KNOW. HE SAID THAT HE WOULD WRITE A WHOLE BOOK WITH ME IN IT. IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA TO GET SOME PUBLICITY. I ONLY SHOWED UP HERE BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE HIM. SIMILAR WRITING STLYE, YOU KNOW. I GOT CONFUSED..."
"Get some publicity? YOU'RE DEATH!!! Everybody knows about you, YOU MORON!"
"FINE, FINE." Death looked very uncomfortable, as if he had an itch he couldn't quite reach. Finally he said, "LOOK, IF I GO DOWN THERE, SCARE A FEW PEOPLE, MAYBE TAKE ONE OR TWO, WILL YOU LET ME GO BACK TO THE DISCWO..."
The Spearman cut him off, "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Just go down there and get those tanks for me."
A.S.Shole let out another great Texan whoop of joy. "YEEEEEEHHHAAAAAAWW! We got 'em on the run now, boys."
Indeed, most of the knights were dead, and the rest were starting to realize the odds were no longer on their side. Of the twenty tanks which had began the battle, only five remained in working order. They started to rumble forward toward the scant few remaining knights. The small group of knights huddled together as the tanks advanced in a menacing fashion.
A figure, clad in dark robes, parted the smoke behind the knights, and made it's way toward the scene. It held a large scythe in one bony hand.
The tanks paused. A voice came across the tank's radio. "Umm, sir. I think that's Death coming for us."
Sholes stared in amazement. It sure looked like it. Well, he wasn't going to lose this fight no matter what, "I don't care if that's Mother Teresa, CHARGE! No, wait, I meant attack."
Another voice came across the waves, "You want us to charge into the face of certain Death, sir?" There was a snicker.
A second voice, "Well, now I can say that I have looked Death in the face." More snickers.
A third voice, bubbling with laughter, "No, no, wait guys, check this out. 'I have laughed in the face of Death'." Laughter.
Sholes got on the radio again, "Knock it off guys, we still have a job to do. Just because Death waits for us, is no reason to laugh"
Outright laughter. "Dammit, that's not funny! I meant to say that I don't fear the Reaper...Look! Just shut up, and kill it, okay?"
Sholes was cut off by a fourth voice on the radio, "Yeah, yeah, listen. That thing will be the Death of us all!" Uncontrolled laughter.
A new voice came on the radio, "HAHAHAA. WAIT, I HAVE ONE. DEATH IS MY MIDDLE NAME! HAHAHAA. GET IT?"
The laughter died instantly. There was a silence. Then, "Who was that?"
"OKAY, OKAY, I HAVE ANOTHER ONE. I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU GUYS! AHAHAAA... WHOOO! I KILL ME. I REALLY DO..."
There was the kind of nervous silence that always follows a bad joke. It just goes to show that Death can even kill a good time.
The Spearman leaped down to land lightly beside Death, who was leaned up against a broken tank with a radio dangling from his bony fingers. Death gave a start as he saw The Spearman. He tried to hide the radio behind his back.
"Are you chatting on the radio with them instead of killing them?"
"UMMM, NO."
"Yes you are, I can see the radio in your hand!"
"NO I'M NOT," Death looked down as if surprised to see the radio. A petulant tone entered his voice, "SO? I CAN HAVE A LITTLE FUN IF A WANT. THE OTHER GUY I WORK FOR MAKES ME BE SO DAMN SERIOUS ALL THE TIME. I JUST WANT TO LET LOOSE ONCE IN A WHILE. IS THAT SO BAD? JUST TO HAVE A LITTLE FUN? I JUST WANT TO BE ME."
The Spearman b*tch slapped Death. "Dammit, you moron, stop being such a girl and go kill those damned tanks!"
Tears welled up in Death's eye sockets. "YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE SO MEAN. FINE, I'M NOT WORKING FOR YOU ANYMORE, AT LEAST THE OTHER GUY DOESN'T MAKE ME SEEM ALL WUSSY. I'M OUTTA HERE..."
Death ran off into the smoke and debris of the battlefield, sobbing.
The Spearman looked amazed. "Wow. I never would have thought he would be so sensative."
Mike appeared at his elbow, "Well, old man, how do we stop those tanks this time. Can you fight them all?"
A gleam entered The Spearman's eye. He muttered under his breath. Mike thought he heard something about 'a glorious death', or something. The Spearman hefted a handful of spears, and headed towards the tanks....
A voice came from Mike's shoulder. Sort of a Mexican accent, "Heyyyy good buddy. What is the good word? You know, The Spearman is a pretty cool guy, but i do not think he will survive this, you know."
Mike looked down to see The Fly sitting on his shoulder. After everything he had seen, it didn't bother him at all. After a moment, his reporter's curiosity got the better of him.
"How do you know The Spearman?"
The Fly settled back into a more relaxed position, "Well, me and him have been around for the long time, you know. Ever since the world was born. Of course, it sucked to be a fly back then, because there were no animals or people around. No animals means no sh*t. And to be a fly without the poop is like being a spearman with no spear." The Fly let out a heavy sigh and shook his head, "Ahhh, those were the bad times, you know? So I took to following The Spearman around. You know, that guy can put out a load! Good stuff, too. But eventually, he got tired of my following him around all the time, and I got tired of his crap. I mean, I didn't get tired of his crap, per say, but you know what I mean. So we went our seperate ways. I have seen him from time to time across the world. As you know, a lot of sh*t can happen in a world's lifetime, and where there is sh*t, there is The Fly."
Mike scratched at his stubble, "So you've been around as long as him? So are you like a fly God or something?"
The Fly laughed so hard at this, that he fell off Mike's shoulder. He buzzed back up eventually, wiping tears from his eyes, "No, hahaha, I can see why The Spearman calls you a moron all of the time, though, hahahaaa! No, my poopheaded young friend, I am not a God, I am The Fly. No more, no less. Well, I suppose I could be called a cursor by those who control the events in this world. Kind of a sh*tty job, but hey! That's right up my alley!"
Mike mulled on this for a second. A cursor? Well, he supposed The Fly did use a lot of bad language.
The Fly continued, "But it makes none of the difference anymore."
Mike turned, "Oh? Why is that?"
The Fly replied in a nonchalent voice, which contrasted sharply with the seriousness of what he said,
"Because death is coming to everyone here."
"No, no. Death was already here! He took off crying, though. Kinda wierd."
The Fly gave him a strange look, "Not that Death, my foolish amigo. I am talking about fiery, flaming death, from the heavens. With fire, and stuff."
Mike sighed. Great, he thought, what next?
A strange hum filled the battlefield, growing louder and louder as a deep throbbing sound increased in pitch also. Every head was now turned to the ledge where The Spearman stood. Every pair of eyes focused on The Spear.
The noise grew and grew, and then a new noise grew on top of that.
*BEEEEEP BEEEEP BEEEEP BEEEEEP*
The men down below seemed to give a universal shrug as nothing else happened. They resumed killing each other.
The Spearman turned to Mike with a look of disbelief and rage on his face, "You IDIOT! You grabbed the wrong spear! THIS IS MY ALARM CLOCK, YOU MORON!!!!"
Mike sputtered with indignation, "How the hell was I supposed to know the difference? Anyway, that's beside the point! You built up all that suspense for that? What the hell?"
The Spearman chuckled, "Heeeheehe, It was kinda funny how everyone down there got all worried, and stuff. But that doesn't matter. I have other powers I can call upon. Check this out..."
The Spearman's face went blank, and he started mumbling strange words under his breath as he swayed gently from side to side. Mike poked him a couple of times, but there was no response.
A strange white mist began to build up around the ledge, and Mike stared about him in growing alarm. The mist grew thicker and thicker until he could no longer see in front of his own nose. Then, without warning, the mist cleared, and The Spearman stood there coughing and spluttering.
A figure stood behind him.
It was dressed in all black robes.
And it held a scythe.
The Spearman wore a triumphant grin, and he danced around a little bit in celebration, "Hahahahaa! What did I tell you? I summoned Death himself to come fight for me! Hahahahaaa."
The dark figure walked toward them and held up a finger, "UMM, EXCUSE ME..."
Mike asked The Spearman, "You summoned Death? Holy cow! That is pretty cool, if you ask me."
"EXCUSE ME, BUT I THINK I SHOULD POINT OUT THAT..."
The Spearman made a bony fist, blew on it, and rubbed it on his chest, "Yeah, I know. I am pretty cool. Now there's no way we can lose."
Death sighed. He raised his Scythe and bought it down between the two. It made a hollow sound as it hit the ground. They both jumped and looked around in surprise.
"AHEM. NOW THAT I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, I SHOULD POINT OUT THAT I AM NOT ENTIRELY SURE THAT YOU CAN USE ME IN THIS FASHION."
The Spearman looked at Mike before saying, "What do you mean? I summoned you, I can use you. It's the rules."
Death looked a little embarrassed as he shifted his feet and replied in a small voice, well, a small voice for him, "YOU DID SUMMON ME, BUT I ALREADY TOLD ANOTHER GUY THAT I WOULD ONLY WORK FOR HIM. I SIGNED A CONTRACT AND EVERTHING."
There was a quiet pause. It stretched out into an uncomfortable silence.
"THERE MAY BE SOME COPYRIGHT ISSUES ALSO. I'M NOT SURE."
Another uncomfortable silence as The Spearman glared at Death. Death looked down and shifted his feet again.
"What do you mean, copyright issues? You're Death. No one has claim on you."
"AH, WELL, I TOLD THIS GUY THAT I WOULD DO BIT PARTS FOR HIM, SOME FUNNY STUFF, YOU KNOW. HE SAID THAT HE WOULD WRITE A WHOLE BOOK WITH ME IN IT. IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA TO GET SOME PUBLICITY. I ONLY SHOWED UP HERE BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE HIM. SIMILAR WRITING STLYE, YOU KNOW. I GOT CONFUSED..."
"Get some publicity? YOU'RE DEATH!!! Everybody knows about you, YOU MORON!"
"FINE, FINE." Death looked very uncomfortable, as if he had an itch he couldn't quite reach. Finally he said, "LOOK, IF I GO DOWN THERE, SCARE A FEW PEOPLE, MAYBE TAKE ONE OR TWO, WILL YOU LET ME GO BACK TO THE DISCWO..."
The Spearman cut him off, "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Just go down there and get those tanks for me."
A.S.Shole let out another great Texan whoop of joy. "YEEEEEEHHHAAAAAAWW! We got 'em on the run now, boys."
Indeed, most of the knights were dead, and the rest were starting to realize the odds were no longer on their side. Of the twenty tanks which had began the battle, only five remained in working order. They started to rumble forward toward the scant few remaining knights. The small group of knights huddled together as the tanks advanced in a menacing fashion.
A figure, clad in dark robes, parted the smoke behind the knights, and made it's way toward the scene. It held a large scythe in one bony hand.
The tanks paused. A voice came across the tank's radio. "Umm, sir. I think that's Death coming for us."
Sholes stared in amazement. It sure looked like it. Well, he wasn't going to lose this fight no matter what, "I don't care if that's Mother Teresa, CHARGE! No, wait, I meant attack."
Another voice came across the waves, "You want us to charge into the face of certain Death, sir?" There was a snicker.
A second voice, "Well, now I can say that I have looked Death in the face." More snickers.
A third voice, bubbling with laughter, "No, no, wait guys, check this out. 'I have laughed in the face of Death'." Laughter.
Sholes got on the radio again, "Knock it off guys, we still have a job to do. Just because Death waits for us, is no reason to laugh"
Outright laughter. "Dammit, that's not funny! I meant to say that I don't fear the Reaper...Look! Just shut up, and kill it, okay?"
Sholes was cut off by a fourth voice on the radio, "Yeah, yeah, listen. That thing will be the Death of us all!" Uncontrolled laughter.
A new voice came on the radio, "HAHAHAA. WAIT, I HAVE ONE. DEATH IS MY MIDDLE NAME! HAHAHAA. GET IT?"
The laughter died instantly. There was a silence. Then, "Who was that?"
"OKAY, OKAY, I HAVE ANOTHER ONE. I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU GUYS! AHAHAAA... WHOOO! I KILL ME. I REALLY DO..."
There was the kind of nervous silence that always follows a bad joke. It just goes to show that Death can even kill a good time.
The Spearman leaped down to land lightly beside Death, who was leaned up against a broken tank with a radio dangling from his bony fingers. Death gave a start as he saw The Spearman. He tried to hide the radio behind his back.
"Are you chatting on the radio with them instead of killing them?"
"UMMM, NO."
"Yes you are, I can see the radio in your hand!"
"NO I'M NOT," Death looked down as if surprised to see the radio. A petulant tone entered his voice, "SO? I CAN HAVE A LITTLE FUN IF A WANT. THE OTHER GUY I WORK FOR MAKES ME BE SO DAMN SERIOUS ALL THE TIME. I JUST WANT TO LET LOOSE ONCE IN A WHILE. IS THAT SO BAD? JUST TO HAVE A LITTLE FUN? I JUST WANT TO BE ME."
The Spearman b*tch slapped Death. "Dammit, you moron, stop being such a girl and go kill those damned tanks!"
Tears welled up in Death's eye sockets. "YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE SO MEAN. FINE, I'M NOT WORKING FOR YOU ANYMORE, AT LEAST THE OTHER GUY DOESN'T MAKE ME SEEM ALL WUSSY. I'M OUTTA HERE..."
Death ran off into the smoke and debris of the battlefield, sobbing.
The Spearman looked amazed. "Wow. I never would have thought he would be so sensative."
Mike appeared at his elbow, "Well, old man, how do we stop those tanks this time. Can you fight them all?"
A gleam entered The Spearman's eye. He muttered under his breath. Mike thought he heard something about 'a glorious death', or something. The Spearman hefted a handful of spears, and headed towards the tanks....
A voice came from Mike's shoulder. Sort of a Mexican accent, "Heyyyy good buddy. What is the good word? You know, The Spearman is a pretty cool guy, but i do not think he will survive this, you know."
Mike looked down to see The Fly sitting on his shoulder. After everything he had seen, it didn't bother him at all. After a moment, his reporter's curiosity got the better of him.
"How do you know The Spearman?"
The Fly settled back into a more relaxed position, "Well, me and him have been around for the long time, you know. Ever since the world was born. Of course, it sucked to be a fly back then, because there were no animals or people around. No animals means no sh*t. And to be a fly without the poop is like being a spearman with no spear." The Fly let out a heavy sigh and shook his head, "Ahhh, those were the bad times, you know? So I took to following The Spearman around. You know, that guy can put out a load! Good stuff, too. But eventually, he got tired of my following him around all the time, and I got tired of his crap. I mean, I didn't get tired of his crap, per say, but you know what I mean. So we went our seperate ways. I have seen him from time to time across the world. As you know, a lot of sh*t can happen in a world's lifetime, and where there is sh*t, there is The Fly."
Mike scratched at his stubble, "So you've been around as long as him? So are you like a fly God or something?"
The Fly laughed so hard at this, that he fell off Mike's shoulder. He buzzed back up eventually, wiping tears from his eyes, "No, hahaha, I can see why The Spearman calls you a moron all of the time, though, hahahaaa! No, my poopheaded young friend, I am not a God, I am The Fly. No more, no less. Well, I suppose I could be called a cursor by those who control the events in this world. Kind of a sh*tty job, but hey! That's right up my alley!"
Mike mulled on this for a second. A cursor? Well, he supposed The Fly did use a lot of bad language.
The Fly continued, "But it makes none of the difference anymore."
Mike turned, "Oh? Why is that?"
The Fly replied in a nonchalent voice, which contrasted sharply with the seriousness of what he said,
"Because death is coming to everyone here."
"No, no. Death was already here! He took off crying, though. Kinda wierd."
The Fly gave him a strange look, "Not that Death, my foolish amigo. I am talking about fiery, flaming death, from the heavens. With fire, and stuff."
Mike sighed. Great, he thought, what next?
:)civ2
Uber Commie
deaths an pussy ahahahahahaha this is some funny ****.WRIGHT MORE MORE MORE!!!!!!!!!
You know i think that us telling you that you are civfanatic's terry prachtet may be taking a toll on your mind.
Chingis Khan
Scourge Of The World
*Nah, I've just been in the desert for six months. That's enough to twist anybody's mind
*Sometimes, when the lines of good and bad become blurred, it can be hard to tell the difference. For instance, take Darth Vader. There's a guy who's just trying to do his job. He's dedicated, skilled and pretty loyal. He's trying to establish a relationship with his estranged son, and what happens? His own son tries to kill him!
There are also times when it works in reverse. When good is so good, that it shoots through the other side of goodness into something else.
This is where we see Gandhi. He sits in his command chair overlooking the huge screens filled with satellite images of a skirmish in a land far, far away. He turns to his military advisor,
"You see? Do you see? This is what happens in wild, untamed, barbarian lands."
The advisor kept a bland expression, " Yes, sir. Like our land used to be until you stopped all the fighting by killing eveybody."
"Exactly! Keeping peace, is hard work. What do you think we should do about this disgusting outbreak of violence?"
The advisor sighed. He had learned long ago the futility of arguing, "Well sir, I think that considering that this is simply a small border skirmish between two foriegn countries, and has nothing to do with us, we should simply ignore it."
Gandhi cackled and rubbed his hands together. His eyes appeared slightly glazed, "Yes, yes! I agree. We should teach these heathens the meaning of true brotherhood and peace!" He yelled down to the missle control center, "Prepare the weapons!"
Gandhi laughed, giggled and cackled until the missles had been readied. He had his own 'big red button', and he raised his bony, wrinkled fingers high above it.
Bits of spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed, "HOW ABOUT A NICE VEGETARIAN CURRY! AHAHAHAAAAAHAHAAA!!!"
His hand came down.
:)civ2
Uber Commie
WTH????
never can trust that Ghandi
Obssesed Nuker
Resident Nuclear Launcher
COMEONE ALREADY! IM DIEING!
:)civ2
Uber Commie
same here come on!!!!!!
:ripper:
:ripper:
It's been a few days. Maybe some suggestions are in order.
At the current edition, the spearman is rejoining the battle against the tanks, and Ghandi has launch a nuke to restore the peace (are we in Pakistan?).
Some alternatives:
Spearman engages tanks and chaos erupts, during which time spears get lodged in barrels and viewports while the nuke is intercepted by newly-minted SDI
Spearman dives under the center tank and becomes the sole surviving unit when the nuke hits (1 unit always survives, right?)
Spearman hears launch alert from panic-striken tank crew and runs for the cave, dragging Mike with him (and informing the fly of some new piles in the tanks)
Spearman hurls his spears at the incoming nuke and neutralizes the warhead. Appreciative surviving tanks flip to spearman's culture and worship spearman as a god
At the current edition, the spearman is rejoining the battle against the tanks, and Ghandi has launch a nuke to restore the peace (are we in Pakistan?).
Some alternatives:
Spearman engages tanks and chaos erupts, during which time spears get lodged in barrels and viewports while the nuke is intercepted by newly-minted SDI
Spearman dives under the center tank and becomes the sole surviving unit when the nuke hits (1 unit always survives, right?)
Spearman hears launch alert from panic-striken tank crew and runs for the cave, dragging Mike with him (and informing the fly of some new piles in the tanks)
Spearman hurls his spears at the incoming nuke and neutralizes the warhead. Appreciative surviving tanks flip to spearman's culture and worship spearman as a god
amirsan
King of all Kings
cool story
Perfection
The Great Head.
MORE MORE MORE DAMMIT!!!
Since Chingis is in the USAF, I am assuming he has been made "unavailable" to us for a while. 
Given his job, though, it *shouldn't* be as bad as starlifter's absences.
Given his job, though, it *shouldn't* be as bad as starlifter's absences.
aneeshm
Deity
Come on , write !
The wait is almost more than I can bear .
The wait is almost more than I can bear .
Chingis Khan
Scourge Of The World
Hehehehee. Sorry for the wait, I got home from the desert about a month ago and have been celebrating ever since! Anyway, I finally wrote the last chapter for The Spearman. Here it is....
Around the globe, various alarms, bells, whistles, and in one small country that was quite sophisticated whilst still holding on to the old way of life, a town crier gave the warning of a nuclear launch. Heads of states, Presidents, Dictators and Kings alike were hustled to their war rooms. After a relatively small amount of time, another small country launched their missiles, and then another, and another, until the world was quite surrounded by intercontinental ballistic missiles busy arcing through the atsmosphere towards various targets. More and more, until it seemed that for each new missile launched, their were four more launched in retaliation. Each country on the face of the, now quite worried, planet had at least one warhead aimed at every major city. The end of the world had come at last.
Meanwhile, on a mountaintop in a remote land, a desperate struggle was going on oblivious to the original eight warheads coming their way. The pitiful few knights who had survived the initial encounter were now watching with slack jaws as The Spearman danced the Dance of Death as he never danced before. He flipped, jumped, somersaulted and in one unforgetable moment, he even did the Macarana. Mike watched with some fascination. He had heard The Spearman boast of his skill, but this was something else! The five remaining tank commanders were finding out a very important principle in combat that their academies had never prepared them for and it was this; when fighting what appeared to be a small tornado in their midst, it was far easier to shoot one of your teammates then it was to hit a single old man!
Over the tank radios came a cacophony of voices,
Hey! You just shot my treads off!
Sorry, that was my bad! So sorry
There he goes, get him! No! That was me, you idiot!
Hes in my sights, taking the shot
And so on.
But The Spearman was having his own difficulties. It was easy to avoid the guns of one tank and take your time attacking, but the moment he stopped to work on the armor of one tank, four more were blasting at him. It was another damn stalemate!
It was then that the heads of the men began turning skywards. The Spearman slowed down as the tanks stopped attacking. The hatches opened and the crews were coming out and looking up at something.
The Spearman began to have a sinking feeling as he followed their gazes up. There in the sky were several streaks of contrail. Missiles. A lot of them. All streaking across the twilight sky. Towards the mountain.
There was a great deal of sighing and bemoaning, as acceptance of the inevitable fiery doom had sunk in. What else was their to do?
On a nearby mountaintop, Death had finished weeping, I HATE THIS PLACE. I CANT BELIEVE THAT GUY SLAPPED ME! IM GETTING OUT OF HERE.
He made a few gestures with his scythe and a portal opened back to the Discwo back to that other place. Death was quite surprised when several huge ICBMs streaked over his shoulder on their way to the mountain he had just ran from, and were swallowed by the portal he had just made.
Death stood there in shock for a few moments. He wore the expression of someone who realizes that something very bad has just happened, and he was to blame. He raised one finger and opened his mouth, then turned to look back over his shoulder. Then he turned very slowly, as if replaying the flight of the huge weapons past him. Finally his eyes rested on the portal. He narrowed his eye sockets and strained to see through the swirling mists of interuniversal debris; what he saw confirmed his sluggish thoughts. Brilliant blooms of white dotting the very distant landscape. He closed the portal and sat down.
A few minutes later, he reopened the portal to look through, just in case he had been mistaken. Or maybe he thought he could somehow undo everything by resetting (it works for Microsoft after all). All he saw was the glowing red of fire on a countrywide scale. He closed the portal one more time.
DAMN. WHAT ARE THE ODDS OF THAT?
All around the globe, mushrooms were sprouting. Not one city was untouched. Anywhere. Except for one small, remote mountaintop, the world burned.
The five tank crews, Mike, The Spearman, and the few remaining knights all looked at each other.
Mike finally spoke, Well, I suppose all this fighting is done with. Were it, I suppose. We are all thats left of the human race!
A.S.Shole sat on his tank, smoking a cigarette, Ha! And how long do you suppose well last? We have no women among us to repopulate the world.
One of the other tank crewmembers angrily pulled off her helmet and shook her strawberry blonde hair out, And what the hell do you call me?
She suddenly looked around uncomfortably; every mans head had whipped around and were now regarding her with the sort of look that a wolf usually gives a rabbit. A very small rabbit. She slowly pulled her helmet back over her head and sank back into her tank, umm, never mind.
The Spearman looked around at everybody. Then he sighed and joined Sholes on the tank for a smoke. He lit up before speaking. When he spoke, his voice seemed very distant, yet at the same time, it seemed quite close. It was a voice that reminded one of how young they were, while making you feel old. A voice like the whispering wind, the babbling brook, and the hustling highway all at once. Even Mike was impressed despite himself by that voice.
You are not the only people left in the world. As we speak, the survivors are scattered as leaves in the wind. In an underground bunker. At an Arctic expedition. A small Amazon village. Yourselves. In time, you will all create your own civilizations, and the ways of this world will pass with time. You will create new ways, new ideas. You will build new cities and conquer new lands. All this will come to pass in time, as it has many times before this, and will many times to come. This game is over. The User has retired. My time here is done. Until the next game, Goodbye.
And then The Spearman slowly vanished.
The remaining people looked around at each other for a while in silence. Eventually, A.S.Shole said, Well, I seem to have a case of beer in the trunk of my tank. Anybody want some?
Mike replied, Yeah! And I know a pretty cool cave we can all go and hang out in.
Whereupon the remaining few mortals who where to become a powerful and mighty civ in the future, and Death, who had snuck in with the crowd when nobody was looking, got blind, stinking drunk.
THE END
Around the globe, various alarms, bells, whistles, and in one small country that was quite sophisticated whilst still holding on to the old way of life, a town crier gave the warning of a nuclear launch. Heads of states, Presidents, Dictators and Kings alike were hustled to their war rooms. After a relatively small amount of time, another small country launched their missiles, and then another, and another, until the world was quite surrounded by intercontinental ballistic missiles busy arcing through the atsmosphere towards various targets. More and more, until it seemed that for each new missile launched, their were four more launched in retaliation. Each country on the face of the, now quite worried, planet had at least one warhead aimed at every major city. The end of the world had come at last.
Meanwhile, on a mountaintop in a remote land, a desperate struggle was going on oblivious to the original eight warheads coming their way. The pitiful few knights who had survived the initial encounter were now watching with slack jaws as The Spearman danced the Dance of Death as he never danced before. He flipped, jumped, somersaulted and in one unforgetable moment, he even did the Macarana. Mike watched with some fascination. He had heard The Spearman boast of his skill, but this was something else! The five remaining tank commanders were finding out a very important principle in combat that their academies had never prepared them for and it was this; when fighting what appeared to be a small tornado in their midst, it was far easier to shoot one of your teammates then it was to hit a single old man!
Over the tank radios came a cacophony of voices,
Hey! You just shot my treads off!
Sorry, that was my bad! So sorry
There he goes, get him! No! That was me, you idiot!
Hes in my sights, taking the shot
And so on.
But The Spearman was having his own difficulties. It was easy to avoid the guns of one tank and take your time attacking, but the moment he stopped to work on the armor of one tank, four more were blasting at him. It was another damn stalemate!
It was then that the heads of the men began turning skywards. The Spearman slowed down as the tanks stopped attacking. The hatches opened and the crews were coming out and looking up at something.
The Spearman began to have a sinking feeling as he followed their gazes up. There in the sky were several streaks of contrail. Missiles. A lot of them. All streaking across the twilight sky. Towards the mountain.
There was a great deal of sighing and bemoaning, as acceptance of the inevitable fiery doom had sunk in. What else was their to do?
On a nearby mountaintop, Death had finished weeping, I HATE THIS PLACE. I CANT BELIEVE THAT GUY SLAPPED ME! IM GETTING OUT OF HERE.
He made a few gestures with his scythe and a portal opened back to the Discwo back to that other place. Death was quite surprised when several huge ICBMs streaked over his shoulder on their way to the mountain he had just ran from, and were swallowed by the portal he had just made.
Death stood there in shock for a few moments. He wore the expression of someone who realizes that something very bad has just happened, and he was to blame. He raised one finger and opened his mouth, then turned to look back over his shoulder. Then he turned very slowly, as if replaying the flight of the huge weapons past him. Finally his eyes rested on the portal. He narrowed his eye sockets and strained to see through the swirling mists of interuniversal debris; what he saw confirmed his sluggish thoughts. Brilliant blooms of white dotting the very distant landscape. He closed the portal and sat down.
A few minutes later, he reopened the portal to look through, just in case he had been mistaken. Or maybe he thought he could somehow undo everything by resetting (it works for Microsoft after all). All he saw was the glowing red of fire on a countrywide scale. He closed the portal one more time.
DAMN. WHAT ARE THE ODDS OF THAT?
All around the globe, mushrooms were sprouting. Not one city was untouched. Anywhere. Except for one small, remote mountaintop, the world burned.
The five tank crews, Mike, The Spearman, and the few remaining knights all looked at each other.
Mike finally spoke, Well, I suppose all this fighting is done with. Were it, I suppose. We are all thats left of the human race!
A.S.Shole sat on his tank, smoking a cigarette, Ha! And how long do you suppose well last? We have no women among us to repopulate the world.
One of the other tank crewmembers angrily pulled off her helmet and shook her strawberry blonde hair out, And what the hell do you call me?
She suddenly looked around uncomfortably; every mans head had whipped around and were now regarding her with the sort of look that a wolf usually gives a rabbit. A very small rabbit. She slowly pulled her helmet back over her head and sank back into her tank, umm, never mind.
The Spearman looked around at everybody. Then he sighed and joined Sholes on the tank for a smoke. He lit up before speaking. When he spoke, his voice seemed very distant, yet at the same time, it seemed quite close. It was a voice that reminded one of how young they were, while making you feel old. A voice like the whispering wind, the babbling brook, and the hustling highway all at once. Even Mike was impressed despite himself by that voice.
You are not the only people left in the world. As we speak, the survivors are scattered as leaves in the wind. In an underground bunker. At an Arctic expedition. A small Amazon village. Yourselves. In time, you will all create your own civilizations, and the ways of this world will pass with time. You will create new ways, new ideas. You will build new cities and conquer new lands. All this will come to pass in time, as it has many times before this, and will many times to come. This game is over. The User has retired. My time here is done. Until the next game, Goodbye.
And then The Spearman slowly vanished.
The remaining people looked around at each other for a while in silence. Eventually, A.S.Shole said, Well, I seem to have a case of beer in the trunk of my tank. Anybody want some?
Mike replied, Yeah! And I know a pretty cool cave we can all go and hang out in.
Whereupon the remaining few mortals who where to become a powerful and mighty civ in the future, and Death, who had snuck in with the crowd when nobody was looking, got blind, stinking drunk.
THE END
Ancient Grudge
Its all in this life
Chingis Khan
what an amazing story well done i salute you
what an amazing story well done i salute you
Thrawn
Emperor
Now you must write more stories to appease us the readers. 
Gregski
Mostly Harmless
Chingis Khan,
Your story was hillarious. I really enjoyed it. Can't wait till my tanks next lose to a spearman...
Your story was hillarious. I really enjoyed it. Can't wait till my tanks next lose to a spearman...
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