Dominika stood upon the rough fortifications of Hastograd. Would the defences prepared be enough? Soon the Persians would come flooding towards the defenders. She had calculated that the Persian serfs would be able to dig a desert highway straight to the outskirts of the city and that the assault would soon follow. 12 000 macemen, 4000 Pikes, 800 catapults, 6000 longbows and a few thousand crossbows, this counted the enemy army.
Such a vast horde, all of Persia was emptied. If only there was a way to strike them at home. No such possibility existed. Instead Dominika prepared for the final hour. She prayed to her father, she sent her son to safety at Moscow, she called for further reinforcements, and at last she spoke to the troops.
Friends, Russians, countrymen! Nobles on Horseback, Citizen Bowmen, Macewarriors and Elephant Riders! You are the defenders of Russia! At this junction we will either halt the Persian war machine or be completely destroyed by it. They outnumber us, but we are stronger, finer warriors! We fight with elegance where they fight with savagery. We are the finest soldiers in this world and there may come a day when the beauty of our weapons can no longer guide us, but we will not let it be THIS DAY! I stay here and fight in the front lines with you, while the fat Guru hides behind his armies, an army that is clad in rags and dirt, their greatest weapon their own foul stench! We need not fear them, through Catharsis are we cleansed of fear and weakness, only our superior skill and tactics remain! I will stand with you on the battlements shooting arrows, I will stand with you at the gates wielding my sword, I will fend off their assault from horseback, and at the shrine of Catharsis I will beat down every Persian that approaches with my mace and chain in hand! Like ten thousand brothers shall we stand! Immovable, fearless, indestructable! Today we shall teach the Persians to fear us! Death!! Death to them all!!!
DEATH TO THEM ALL!!!
Catherine entered her command tent, looked over her battleplans, ordered her generals to take the field, and finally, sharpened her sword. There were only two outcomes tomorrow, victory or death. Should the defenders fail she would fall upon her own sword. Death would be painful, but swift. Yet Russia would live on, through Konya.
Such a vast horde, all of Persia was emptied. If only there was a way to strike them at home. No such possibility existed. Instead Dominika prepared for the final hour. She prayed to her father, she sent her son to safety at Moscow, she called for further reinforcements, and at last she spoke to the troops.
Friends, Russians, countrymen! Nobles on Horseback, Citizen Bowmen, Macewarriors and Elephant Riders! You are the defenders of Russia! At this junction we will either halt the Persian war machine or be completely destroyed by it. They outnumber us, but we are stronger, finer warriors! We fight with elegance where they fight with savagery. We are the finest soldiers in this world and there may come a day when the beauty of our weapons can no longer guide us, but we will not let it be THIS DAY! I stay here and fight in the front lines with you, while the fat Guru hides behind his armies, an army that is clad in rags and dirt, their greatest weapon their own foul stench! We need not fear them, through Catharsis are we cleansed of fear and weakness, only our superior skill and tactics remain! I will stand with you on the battlements shooting arrows, I will stand with you at the gates wielding my sword, I will fend off their assault from horseback, and at the shrine of Catharsis I will beat down every Persian that approaches with my mace and chain in hand! Like ten thousand brothers shall we stand! Immovable, fearless, indestructable! Today we shall teach the Persians to fear us! Death!! Death to them all!!!
DEATH TO THEM ALL!!!
Catherine entered her command tent, looked over her battleplans, ordered her generals to take the field, and finally, sharpened her sword. There were only two outcomes tomorrow, victory or death. Should the defenders fail she would fall upon her own sword. Death would be painful, but swift. Yet Russia would live on, through Konya.
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