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The Barbarian King

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  • The Barbarian King

    The Barbarian King

    Long ago while most of the earth languished under the glaciers of the Age of Ice, Antu created the race of men. So full of passion were they that the heat of their desires melted what remained and revealed the garden of Hatti, at the center of which they built Hattusas, the first city. As the city grew the Goddess Telepinu taught them to farm. At this they became so skilled that they neglected the herds they had depended on and deserted Aspalis, the god of the hunt. In a rage he left the city and gave his herds instead to the wild tribes that roamed Hatti. “Some day,” he vowed, “hunters will once again sit on Hattusas’ throne.”

    The young priestess of Telepinu walked beside one of the dozen pack mules that made up the caravan. She pulled her blue robe around her against the chilly morning air. An errant gust caught her hood and blew it back. She squinted at the bright morning sun while brushing long strands of golden hair from her crystal blue eyes. All around was the verdant wilderness of Hatti; the hills were covered by tall grasses full of game, the trail was lined with blooming berry bushes, and the surface of Lake Van rippled with life; yet she walked along with a caravan of mules porting heavy clay urns of grain and wheat to the starving tribes of Hatti. How could the wild-landers not have enough food? She wondered to herself, remembering her father’s accusations of High Priest Zidanta’s corruption, but even if that were true it was no reason to let the wild tribes starve. Up ahead a group of dark birds leap out of the grass and flew into the blue morning and across Lake Van. The rustle of a cool breeze swept through the high grass and startled a family of rabbits; they bound down the slopes and raced across the trail into a shallow ditch on the other side. A group of guards walked ahead of her carrying their spears casually as they joke, until a sling stone ended their laughter by crashing into one of their skulls.

    Suddenly the hills came alive as a band of Hurrian raiders popped up from cover and charged down the slopes at the caravan. Sherdana ducked under the pack mule. Her hand found a sticky warm pool of blood. Shocked and revolted she scrambled away through the furious melee. Weaving frantically through the scuffling feet of guards and barbarians, dodging an occasional lifeless body or bloody weapon that dropped into her field of view, she managed to reach the edge of the trail and roll into the small ditch. She curled into a small ball and clenched her eyes shut hoping not to be found.

    It ends quickly and the sound of foreign speech replaces the clang and scream of battle. She was too terrified to raise her head and peak over the edge of the gully, all she saw was the intense morning sun shining down on her like a spot light. Suddenly it too was gone, blocked out by a silhouette, a wild-lander’s silhouette.

    “Aspalis is the god of warriors. He does not condone murder. You are in no danger if you are unarmed.” the figure said just as he shifted his muscular frame by chance placing the sun directly behind his smooth shaved head. For a moment only the corona was still visible giving the impression of a halo as in an eclipse.

    “What of the people waiting for this food? Will Aspalis condone their starvation?” Sherdana replied firmly despite her trembling.

    “It is better to die than trade your freedom for
    Telepinu’s handouts.”

    The barbarian turned to receive a few quick words from one of his warriors. Dirty fur boots and worn leather pants wrapped powerful legs. A ragged fur cloak hung from his thick neck and revealed a bare brawny chest, at the center of which hung a strange medallion. He nodded his assent, and then turned back to Sherdana offering his hand to help her up. “We must go. You will not be safe here alone.”


    The chamber was lavish and well lit despite having no windows. The High Priest was not concerned with the price of the scented candles he burned without moderation. Zidanta lounged on rich silk cushions; he leaned on one elbow while reviewing a parchment. His lips moved as he mumbled a few lines to himself, then held up a silver hand mirror and repeating them so he could see how he looked while speaking. He turned the mirror, checking for any graying of his thick dark hair, smoothed his goatee with thumb and fore finger and then curled his lips to inspect his teeth.

    A messenger entered with a bow and said “Eminence, A group of Kasku warriors have arrived from the wilds.”

    “And you let them in?” The raised eye brow indicated scorn, not curiosity, “Idiot!”

    He dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand as if wiping something unpleasant from his skin then with a quick clap called a servant. He was helped into his embroidered blue robes, while the servant adjusted and brushed the garment making sure the gold lace was lined up in the center. Zidanta pushed him away after his fussing become annoying. He straightened up and pushed aside the thick curtains leading into the reception chamber.

    Two warriors sat stiffly on the plush pillows, legs crossed, backs strait but their chief reclined comfortably, adapting quickly to the luxurious surroundings.

    “Why are you here?” Zidanta demanded, “I told you not to come before tomorrow’s ceremony.”

    “We were not followed.” Chief Kizzuwadna stated.

    “Their spies are just as good as mine, you’d never know if you were.”

    “The Hurrians raided the caravan before we got there, they took the girl” Kizzuwadna said as if to absolve himself of the failure.

    Zidanta took a long solemn breath before his exasperated response. “I make these things as simple as I can for you people. I told you where it was, I even sent it out with only half the usual guard.”

    “You should watch how you speak to us. We are feared throughout Hatti.” The barbarian claimed with an expansive arm gesture.

    “You are feared because of the weapons I give you. Now go and get her or I’ll set my soldiers on you just as I do with any other caravan raiders.” Zidanta shouted.

    Kizzuwadna ignored Zidanta’s glare for a moment then nodded to his warriors indicating that the meeting was over, as though by his choice. As the Kasku filed out Queen Naram-Sin slinked in through a side door.

    “I heard shouting, is there a problem darling?”

    Even though they had been lovers for some time Naram-Sin’s beauty was such that Zidanta’s desire never diminished. He covertly checked his breath before turning around. Her long smooth legs curved into full hips. His eyes clung to the dramatic arc as they tapered into her slender waist. The ripples of her stomach were only slightly obscured by the diaphanous gown, but it was her firm round breasts that held his attention closest as each breath strained the undersized brazier. She always dressed provocatively, uncomfortable with the idea that anyone would look too long at her face; not that it lacked any element of beauty, indeed her long dark strands of silky hair were a source of envy, and when she parted her glistening lips ever so slightly, the affect was so seductive that had it been Pandora’s Box you would have flung it open without a thought. That is exactly what it was though, if anyone looked closely at her eyes they would find instead tiny pitch filled pits that, even for a Hittite, burned intensely, constantly fanned by the hot winds of hatred, jealousy and greed. That was her true character, the secret she hid with her body.

    “Nothing to concern yourself about.” Zidanta consoled as he moved close to her “Ahimelech will soon receive news that his daughter is in the hands of Kasku raiders. If he wants to see her again he’ll make sure the Guild lends me its full support.”

    He was tall and handsome, though not more so than younger men. What she found most attractive in him was not his power; after all she was the one that convinced the senile old king to make him High Priest of Telepinu in the first place, thus raising him out of the ranks of the patriarchs. It was his mature qualities that she found most attractive: his cunning, his ruthlessness, his utter devotion to her. She had found him to be most useful. She leaned in close, not so much whispering as placing the words directly into his ear.

    He was eager for her furtive pledge of desire, but instead heard “You had better hope that he does.” She smiled when she heard the disappointment in his breath and as she turned to leave could not resist another jab. “Now I must attend to my husband.” She said huskily over her shoulder as she slipped through the curtains and out of the room.


    Sherdana was surprised by the small size of the Hurrian camp, a handful of tents, just thread bare patches of hides and skins stretched between a few branches passed for shelter here. The inside was strewn with shabby furs and fleeces against the cold aided by a central cook fire that lacked a pot. The floor was a tattered pelt laid on bare ground.

    “You’re free to move about, you don’t need to stay cooped up in here.” Said the barbarian.

    “But I am your prisoner.” Sherdana clarified.

    “You’re safe” Kirbatal explained.

    “I’m hungry.” She said despite the unfamiliar smell of foreign cooking that lingered in the air.

    “There will be bread later after the women finish working the grain from your caravan.” Kirbatal offered as he reclined on a pile of old furs.

    Sherdana remained standing, arms crossed defiantly. “Why do you live this way?”

    “You may not consider it comfortable, but Aspalis provides all that we need.” In response to her dubious look he added, “Let me show you.”

    As they walked through the camp she found no evidence to contradict the adequate generosity of Aspalis. Children ran about playing, very thin but apparently happy none the less. Men worked diligently binding sinew over wooden tools or chipping away at stone weapons. The women were busy grinding the grain and kneading the dough stolen from her caravan. There was no other food by what she could tell.

    “Hatti is full of fruits and game, why do you the wild-landers depend on grain shipments from Hattusas?”

    “We hunted the herds, but more often fell victim to the other tribes. Finally we were chased out of the hunting grounds altogether. We were starving and it was time to choose. Many suggested we abandon Aspalis and adopt Telepinu’s ways, but if we were not strong enough to claim the hunting grounds how could we hope to protect our farms from marauders?”

    “So you rob caravans and steal what you need? High Priest Zidanta will give you grain if you ask.”

    “We are hunters, the caravans are our pray. Besides, we would become dependant on Zidanta’s capricious philanthropy. Tribes that accept his grain caravans quickly find out they are not gifts, but shackles. If they do not do his filthy work he starves them until they submit.”

    “Zidanta is not so cruel. Many tribes, like the Kasku accept the grain and they still thrive.”

    The innocence and force of her arguments made him see city people as human for the first time. All he had known before was their unnatural greed and deviousness.

    “The Kasku at one time faced the same choice; Kizzuwadna’s forceful argument swayed their council to accept Telepinu. In payment for this service Zidanta presented him with a copper sword, a weapon with no equal. Kizzuwadna has made the Kasku Zidanta’s personal army and in return Zidanta has provided them with copper weapons which they use to terrorize Hatti.”
    Last edited by 1889; June 8, 2005, 05:57.
    Do you believe in Evil? The Nefarious Mr. Butts
    The continuing saga of The Five Nations
    A seductress, an evil priest, a young woman and The Barbarian King

  • #2
    That night figures stole through the sleeping camp, recognizable as Kasku only by the glint of their copper weapons. A blade sliced through the sides of Kirbatal’s tent allowing a pair of Kasku warriors to sneak in. Silently they crept over to the pile of blankets where Sherdana slept. As an intruder stooped to snatch her, a war hammer whizzed through the still air shattering most of the bones in his back. Even as the paralyzed victim crumpled, the hammer swung back connecting solidly with another bandit just crawling though the slit. Kirbatal shoved the weapon’s hilt back under his arm. Behind him he heard a painful exhale as it jabbed deeply into an intruder’s abdomen, as the victim doubled over in agony Kirbatal brought the handle up sharply into the assailants chin. Forward again went the hammer head into a face. As the limp body fell over Kirbatal recognized Kizzuwadna crawling into the tent. More Kasku poured through the entrance flap to restrain Sherdana and began dragging her outside. Kirbatal spun around striking one of them in the head, but Kizzuwadna took the opportunity to drive his blade into Kirbatal’s side.

    Outside the tent he heard the whiz and thud of spears, the yells of his men and the shouts of many city dwellers. He had no time to finish the Hurrian off but saved himself by ducking out the slit. Tudhaliya and his mercenaries charged in just as the Kasku disappeared back into the night. Sherdana pushed her way through just behind them and hurried to Kirbatal as he knelt clutching his bloody side.

    Tudhaliya had also brought an old friend. “I am Ahimelech, Chairman of the Merchants Guild” he offered to the wounded barbarian, now lying uncomfortably on his sleeping mat. “Thank you for protecting my daughter.” He added in the wild-lander’s own language.

    “How did you find us?” Sherdana asked as she threw her arms around her father’s neck and kissed his bristly beard.

    “As you know dear I’m a man who can call in many
    favors. Zidanta’s messengers often complain of his conduct at a bar that is tended by someone who owes money to a friend.”

    “Forgive my intrusion but we have much to discuss and little time.” Tudhaliya was the youngest of Hattusas’ six patriarchs, the heads of the most important families. It was from their noble ranks that kings have always been chosen, and for that reason they constantly schemed against each other to win the favor of the citizens. Despite his youth he knew better than the others that there was a time for plotting to turn to action and a time to seek new allies. Everything about the young noble was dynamic. He radiated energy, even when still his minds rapid calculations were almost visible in his eyes. He did not appear large or particularly strong, but he carried himself with a confidence that betrayed a high degree of martial competence. Kirbatal sensed a wisdom born of experience and was inclined to trust him.

    “The king is dead, by Naram-Sin’s hand no doubt. Tomorrow night Jupiter will cross Ursa Major, a king chosen at that time will have the blessing of Antu, king of the gods. The patriarchs have been squandering their wealth to buy influence with the people, but as long as they fight amongst themselves they will never win enough support to defeat Zidanta. If he is made king now no one will be able to stand against him. Our power is almost gone; this will be our last chance.” His eyes asked what had not been spoken.

    “You want me to commit murder Zidanta for you?” Kirbatal flashed angrily.

    “Is it murder to defend your people? Get ready for more of this” The young nobleman said as he swept his hand at the dead bodies being removed from the tent. “Zidanta has stayed his hand but after tomorrow night he will have no need for subtlety.”

    “Maybe Aspalis can give you all that you need out here in the wild, but there is more to life than just surviving. I will go back to Hattusas and face Zidanta.” Sherdana added firmly.

    Kirbatal considered these words as he surveyed the unusual band of city dwellers kneeling beside his mat. “Zidanta and his Kasku think they can made war on us? Aspalis will lend his blessing to true warriors. The Hurrians are with you.”

    A brief cheer lightened the mood in the tent, but Tudhaliya quickly returned to business.

    “Ahimelech and I must return to the city quickly before Zidanta’s spies notice we are gone. We will leave supplies.” He indicated a chest and nodded for one of the henchmen to open it. The flickering fire made the contents glitter like gold, but inside was something far more valuable to the Hurrians, a score of copper headed maces.

    “You can sneak into the city through my villa, I will be sure to offer my wines to the city patrols there. A guide who can show you a secret entrance to the palace will be waiting for you.” Tudhaliya said to Kirbatal with a firm hand shake.

    Sherdana kissed her father good-bye and returned to bandage Kirbatal’s wound.

    “This wound is very bad; will you even make it to Hattusas?” Sherdana asked with sincere concern when they were once again alone.

    “I have suffered much worse.” He said, but could tell she was not convinced. He untied the leather strap that held a medallion around his neck and tied it around Sherdana’s. “This is my totem. It carries the spirits of my ancestors, and will receive mine when the time comes. Would I give such a thing away if I were on the verge of death?”


    The frost crunched under the feet of Sherdana, Kirbatal and two dozen of his best warriors as they snuck through Tudhaliya’s fields. Overhead the new moon made the cloudless starry night more brilliant, but most brilliant of all was Jupiter creeping toward Ursa Major. The city’s perimeter was under close scrutiny by Zidanta’s patrols. Kirbatal assumed that Kizzuwadna and his warriors must have returned to the city to warn Zidanta, but he kept his thoughts to himself. With patience they made it past the bored troopers leaning against their spears, sipping from Tudhaliya’s wianna flasks; but it took longer than they thought, Jupiter was already closing with the great constellation.

    Finally past the fields, they saw the smoke of Tudhaliya’s villa. A servant hurried the group inside while watching for any guards. Inside it was comfortable but sparse. Hunting trophies hung from the mud-brick walls and a few fur rugs line the floor. A squad of twenty mercenaries waited impatiently around the fire pit that burning in the center of the room.

    “You are late.” said the servant who had a habit of looking down his nose at those beneath his master’s station, but he was having a hard time pulling it off in the presence of the big barbarians. “Tudhaliya and Ahimelech have already gone to take their place at the ceremony.” He admonished, unhappy to be caught up in such an enterprise. “This is Judas, he will take you to the secret entrance that Ahimelech has told you of.” Judas smiled his greeting with dirty crooked teeth. “And this is Anittas, captain of my master’s guard.” Anittas and Kirbatal grabbed each others wrists in a firm welcome that also allowed them to gauge their each others strength. The servant issued cloaks to the barbarians to help them blend in.

    “If there is anything you need then take it, but leave quickly before the patrols return for another flask of wianna.” He pleaded nervously.


    Kirbatal grew apprehensive as they made their way through endless streets crowded with hundreds of people and lined with sturdy mud-brick buildings. He felt surrounded, but drew confidence from Sherdana and Anittas as they deftly followed Judas through the busy streets. The city dwellers shepherded the wild-landers through the noisy crowds of celebrants, past the venders selling every manner of bauble and fried food, around street performers juggling, breathing fire and telling bawdy tales. The occasional pair of guards was to preoccupied to notice them, but the small band of rebels was followed the whole way by Jupiter as it quickly approached Ursa Major.

    Finally Judas led them down a street where the cavorting seemed less lively. Just as Kirbatal and Anittas recognized the change the trap was sprung, everyone in the street was a guard in disguise. From under their robes they drew copper maces; the venders along the edge of the street passed spears to their comrades and along the roofs archers appeared. The mercenaries and the barbarians circled up with grim resolve, certain that this is what it was going to come to any way.

    Kirbatal stepped in front of Sherdana and ripped off his cloak. He spun it rapidly so the twirling garment acted like a shield and deflected a cluster of arrows.

    “We have to stop those archers.” Anittas shouted to Kirbatal,

    With a nod the two warriors charged into the spearmen before the ranks could form and cleared a path toward one of the vender stalls. Anittas held the soldiers back with a flurry of parries giving Kirbatal room to pull at a support beam. With its support gone the awning collapsed, spilling a group of archers into the crowd of spearmen below.

    The wreckage made a convenient ramp for Anittas to climb up to the roof tops. Kirbatal was about to follow but a look back revealed the bleak tide of battle as troops closed in all around Sherdana and the desperate rebels.

    “I’ll handle the archers, you take the spears.” Anittas winked at the wild-lander then pulled himself up onto the roof, mace swinging.

    Kirbatal charged once more into the flanks of the spearmen, his mace swiping widely with powerful two handed blows. Each contact buckled a trooper and sent him crashing into his comrades. The soldiers parted and
    Kirbatal was back with the rebels. “Come on!” he yelled. “Let’s show these farmers how to fight.” The Hurrians roared and surged forward.

    Kirbatal worked his way back to Sherdana. “Are you alright?”

    “Yes, but we are almost out of time.” She pointed to Jupiter, whose light was just beginning to merge with the constellation.

    “Hold them off.” He commanded to one of his lieutenants, then to Sherdana “Take me to the Palace.” He said with conviction. With a few blows of his metal weapon, a hole opened in an adjacent wall and he followed Sherdana in.
    Last edited by 1889; June 8, 2005, 05:56.
    Do you believe in Evil? The Nefarious Mr. Butts
    The continuing saga of The Five Nations
    A seductress, an evil priest, a young woman and The Barbarian King


    • #3
      Through the dark home and out the front door the world was a different place. The noise of the crowd making its way to the palace drowned out the sounds of battle raging in the next street.

      Sherdana lead him through the thickening crowed that was gathering at the base of the palace balcony. She guided him around back but had no idea where the secret entrance might be. Then with a clever eye she spotted an open balcony on the palace’s second floor. Kirbatal smiled and nodded. Waiting for a gap between the patrolling troops the big barbarian scrambled up the stone walls with surprising agility. A few moments later he grabbed Sherdana’s outstretched hand and hauled her up to the landing.

      They found themselves in one of the palace’s private chambers. Sherdana listened cautiously at the door then donned the hood of her now tattered robes and slipped into torch lit hallway. Kirbatal followed silently as she scouted the various passages trying to find the throne room. The palace seemed so large, identical hallways filled with identical doors, she was about to give up, then she noticed a pair of Kasku warriors guarding an entrance way. She took a deep breath, pulled her hood tight and raced up to them. She pointed wildly down the hall yelling that Hurrians were at the gate. Off they raced, eager for some action, too excited to recognize her. After they passed, Kirbatal slipped around the corner and together they opened the heavy wooden door and stepped into the throne room.

      The large room was lined with columns, each one holding a burning torch. Tapestries hung against the wall between the columns representing the gods that protected the city. In the center of the floor was a large fire pit surrounded by a tile mosaic depicting the creation of Hatti. At the far end of the room was a large dais topped with two thrones. Two sets of doors filled the rest of the space on either wall, from one came the sounds of the crowd waiting to receive their new king.

      “Its time we finish this.” Kizzuwadna growled from his seat on the throne. As he stood the copper sword was prominent in his grasp. Kirbatal stepped in front of Sherdana while hefting his copper headed mace. Kizzuwadna leapt over the fire pit, both hands holding the sword high over his head. Kirbatal dodged to the side as it came down with incredible force. He responded with a low swing, but Kizzuwadna pulled his sword free of the floor and deflected it easily. Without wasting any momentum, Kirbatal returned a series of downward attacks. Kizzuwadna just managed to roll away from each blow. The mace shatters the mosaic where Kizzuwadna’s head had been only moments before. Shards of tile splashed against Kasku Chief. As he rolled and dodged he thrust his blade into the fire pit sending an arc of embers into Kirbatal’s face. While the Hurrian cleared his eyes Kizzuwadna roll up back onto his feet. They lunged at each other but the sword proved faster. Kirbatal had no time to dissipate his momentum; he avoided the swing only by bending his abdomen back. Kizzuwadna pressed the initiative while Kirbatal was off balance. A short stab followed rapidly by an upward slice that finally caught Kirbatal’s upper chest. The sword continued to out pace the mace, each parry and slash forced Kirbatal back. His retreat was not broken until he maneuvered a large stone column between himself and his opponent.

      Kirbatal dodged back and forth as Kizzuwadna jabbed left and right around the column. The stalemate was broken when he pushed the torch over on one side while stabbing around the other. Thrown off balance Kirbatal missed his step and the sword found its way into his side once again, through the bandages to the same place he was wounded the previous night. He dropped to his knee and clutched his tortured side. Kizzuwadna smiled as he raised the bloody sword over his head. Through the pain Kirbatal could only manage to hold his mace up in a pathetic attempt to block the lethal blow. The mace’s wooden handle absorbed most of the force before splitting in two and letting the blade continue down into Kirbatal’s shoulder. Kizzuwadna raised the weapon one last time. Sherdana screamed as she charged at Kizzuwadna from behind. He turned in annoyance his blade catching her in the chest. Sherdana’s limp body was thrown back and crumple against the wall.

      Behind him out on the balcony Jupiter had finished its crossing into the Big Dipper and Naram-Sin proclaimed Zidanta the new king.

      Across the roof tops a few blocks away a weary Anittas had finally swept the roofs of archers but now faced squads of spearmen cresting the ledges all around him. Looking down on the street below the exhausted survivors pressed against each others backs defiantly facing the impossible odds as swarms of city guards continued flooding into the alley.

      When Kizzuwadna turned back to finish Kirbatal he was shocked to see the large barbarian standing once again. Kirbatal brought his hand down on Kizzuwadna’s chest. In his fist he clutched the jagged end of a broken hilt. Strength drained rapidly from Kizzuwadna’s impaled body. Kirbatal swung the Kasku leader around sending him crashing through the doors and onto the balcony.

      He knelt beside Sherdana, cradling her body. As he held her head close to his check, her eyes flickered and then opened. She reached into her robe fearful of what damage she would find, but was surprised to find the skin intact. She withdrew her hand and revealed a deeply dented medallion.

      Leaning against each other they stepped through the broken balcony door. A group of guards with spears ready moved to intercept the pair. The five patriarchs stood there dejected, as though they were prisoners too. At the edge of the rail, amidst the fluttering banners and flickering torches Zidanta and Naram-Sin absorbed the adulation of the crowd below.

      Zidanta turned to receive the pair. “You are too late barbarian. I have Antu’s blessing. No one will stand against me now.” He held his robe out of the way and tapped Kizzuwadna’s body with the tip of his shoe, testing various limbs for any sign of life. “Well, it was bound to happen sooner or latter. Isn’t that your creed or something?” He bent to pick the sword from Kizzuwadna’s rigid grasp. “You’ve actually been a great help to me, I’ll ask Telepinu to arrange something nice for you in the after life.” With surprising strength and remarkable speed Kirbatal lifted Zidanta up over his head and heaved him over the balcony. The stunned guards took a step back.

      “I don’t worship Telepinu, try and remember that.”
      The crowd gasped as one while Zidanta twisted and screamed on the way down. He landed on the sword, its blood covered blade protruding from the center of his back.

      Naram-Sin stepped away from the ledge before anyone’s gaze could turn to her. She escaped through a secret door, back into the palace. Panicked and desperate to escape she ran through the hallways until she crashed into a group of Kasku warriors. “Why are you just standing around? There is still time, get out there and kill the patriarchs.” She screamed at them.

      Kizzuwadna’s lieutenant had studied the cunning calculus of Hattusas for long enough to see the fear in her face and realized it was time for a new allegiance. His first act in support of the new king, whoever that would, was to bring his mace down hard on Naram-Sin’s beautiful skull.

      The crowd gathered silently around their dead king. For the first time they became aware of the fight taking place only a few blocks away. The surviving rebels were granted a reprieve as the city troops became aware of Zidanta and Naram-Sin’s death.
      From the roof came Anittas’ voice. “Look!” he shouted and pointed toward the sky. Every eye followed his aim. Jupiter twinkled as it crept across the other side of Ursa Major. “There is still time.” The crowd immediately began arguing over the merits of the various surviving patriarchs. The factions hollered for their favorite, attempting to drown the shouts of others as the opportunity slipped away.

      Ahimelech despaired at first but then resolved not to give up. He shouted Kirbatal’s name. The other guild members followed the chairman’s lead and soon the name was rippling through the crowd. By the time the planet had freed itself from the big dipper it was clear that the city had a new king.

      THE END

      Last edited by 1889; June 8, 2005, 06:07.
      Do you believe in Evil? The Nefarious Mr. Butts
      The continuing saga of The Five Nations
      A seductress, an evil priest, a young woman and The Barbarian King


      • #4
        This story is a continuation of my posts in the Brave New World turn tracking thread.

        Thank you for reading it.
        Do you believe in Evil? The Nefarious Mr. Butts
        The continuing saga of The Five Nations
        A seductress, an evil priest, a young woman and The Barbarian King


        • #5
          a great yarn
          Gurka 17, People of the Valley
          I am of the Horde.


          • #6
            ...I sort of lost track of the characters about halfway through

            sorry. Maybe a list with descriptions would help?
            -->Visit CGN!
            -->"Production! More Production! Production creates Wealth! Production creates more Jobs!"-Wendell Willkie -1944


            • #7
              Thanks for the input DC. It does move pretty quick, but there are only 4 really important characters.
              Last edited by 1889; July 15, 2005, 13:30.
              Do you believe in Evil? The Nefarious Mr. Butts
              The continuing saga of The Five Nations
              A seductress, an evil priest, a young woman and The Barbarian King