A man in danger

[Ninot]

Introduction:

The year is 226 B.C. Two nations share a large island, or a small continent. One is named Russia, the other is Persia.

The island is at war. Persia is hell bent on taking the island all for itself. Queen Catherine has lost half of her kingdom to rampaging Immortal swordsmen. The confident spearmen of the motherland are fending off more than their fare share of attackers, but the Persian forces seem to come from nowhere.

One city, Smolensk, is at a bottleneck of the island. Immortals are heavily stacked at the gates, attacking with much might, trying to break through. The Czarina's millitary has admitted to his queen that he fears if Smolensk would fall, the rest of the empire would not be able to put up enough of a resistance to matter.

So, in a desperate attempt to keep what is left of Russia intact, all millitary available have been sent to Smolensk.

The story begins with a fresh and heavy plunge by the Immortals of Persia to take Smolensk.

[Ninot]

A desperate struggle

Commander Anatoliy Konstantinov Andreyov'ch watched his brave spearmen from the rear. The Immortals were still a good few hundred yards away, not attacking yet. The Persians might be suicidal occasionally, but they knew that attacking on sight wasn't wise. But the Immortals would attack, and whenever that may be, the attack would surely be fierce.

A new tactic Adreyov'ch was noticing among the enemy swordsmen, was that the first line of Immortals would throw their blades at the spearmen, and impale themselves upon the spears. It was annoying for the spearmen who weren't injured by the attack, for they had to remove a corpse from their weapon before they could properly defend once more. And if the next line of attackers were competent at all, they would be right on the heels of the first attack. Losses on the Russian side had grown sizeably because of this.

His own men were starting to falter in moral. They all had the feeling that the battle would be lost eventually, just a matter of when. Every time a Persian offensive was defeated, it would only be a month or so before the Persians had a bigger force to attack with. And the newest strategy used by the attackers was to load a few hundred persians upon a naval vessel, and attack Smolensk from the west. Too often had a few dozen Immortals gotten threw a virtually unguarded west side, and taken out forces from the rear, and taken a few civilians to boot.

The Immortals were advancing now, at a slow march. The all out sprint would come, but only at about a hundred yards, where they might be hit by arrows. Andreyov'ch shouted at his troups to get into formation. They weren't too quick to oblige. Most of his troups were in their first battle, and those who weren't generally knew how much time they had, and ignored him.

Sprinting range now, he thought to himself. And sure enough, they raised their swords and charged, yelling at the tops of their lungs. A few wen't down to arrow-fire, but they could be counted on a single hand, maybe two.

"LOWER ARMS!" bellowed Andreyov'ch. His spearmen had no other choice now. They lowered their spears to waist level. The Immortals were only a few feet away now... within throwing distance.

Swords flew. Andreyov'ch shuddered as he saw about a dozen of his frontline men drop lifeless. It was never easy to watch slaughter. The Immortals ran in to the lines of Spearmen at full speed. Those who still had swords were swinging wildly. If they hit a comrade, it would be sacrifice. If they hit a Russian, it would be a small victory. Those who had thrown their swords were either being slid from a spear to the ground, behind lines hopefully, or they were grappeling with spearmen who were unfortunate enough to be seperated from their tight formations.

Blood splattered everything. Metal clinging wasn't a common sound. It hit flesh much more often.

But regardless of the horrific sight that was the endless battle of Smolensk, Adreyov'ch and his men came out with a victory here. But he would need more reinforcements. The two dozen (by his count) Immortals that attacked took out about half of his spearmen on this attack. It must have been a new record for Andreyov'ch. He thought he was only 32, but something gave him the feeling that he was getting a old for this kind of life. He noted in his diary: "I may only be the age of the common soldier, but one day soon, I feel that my time will end with this battle, and I fear it might not be my General, but an Immortal... and I won't be sent home, but to the afterlife."

***Continued soon with the next chapter: "Decisions"***

[Tarquinius]

Nice start.
I am looking forward to the rest of the story!

[Metaliturtle]

yeah, some short posts, but nothing is wrong with that

[Ninot]

Decisions

Czarina Catherine sipped at her tea. It tasted awful, quite awful. The propper spices needed to make it better where on what was now Persian ground. Another thing to credit to the Immortals, she thought to herself. The Russian people had lost too much in this war, and Catherine doubted her nation would ever be the same. Unfortunately, she also doubter her nation would last much longer.

An aide walked in to give Catherine her daily update on the battle of Smolensk. It was the only true battle in the war currently. There had been a few naval encounters, but they were pointless enough that they were never reported on. The Russian people didn't have enough troups to spare for a speacial beach assault anywhere, and thus they never really lost anything in a naval fight. But in Smolensk, there was everything to be lost.

"Madamn, I'm sorry but I have only bad news to report today" said the advisor.

"That seems to be the case every day Fedor Vachislav. What has gone wrong for us now?"

"It is the troops enroute to Smolensk. They rebel. Even the faithful commanders are not so faithful. They think they know better than you, and suggest they dispatch to a different city, other than Smolensk that is. The common sentiment is that Smolensk will fall soon, and the rest of the empire should prepare its defenses. The troups inside Smolensk feel they should retreat as well, not that there are many in Smolensk anyways. The Immortals are rapidly dwindling down our spearmen divisions, and they are spreading out more to avoid our catapult attacks better."

"So, in a nutshell, while Smolensk is still ours, nothing could get worse?"

"Correct my Czarina."

"Bozhemoi"

"But I have this question from your military advisor. The troops that are enroute to Smolensk, shall we divert them to the next two town's closest to the bottle-neck, Minsk and Kiev? They are barely defended currently, with a regiment of militia warriors each. If Smolensk should fall, they would not stand a chance at all. And there is no telling wether the troups would matter in Smolensk. The Immortals seem to attack more fiercly every day."

"Send them to Smolensk. If that city falls, it will not matter if there are all the worlds forces on our side, Minsk and Kiev would fall as well. Is that all?"

"Noo my Czarina.."

"Well get on with it"

"One of our Galleys saw a heavy grouping of Immortals not long ago, but we have lost track of it. It is possible that they are just adding themselves to the attack on Smolensk, but the attacks have not grown so fiercly for that to be very perceivable. We can commision another galley to drop a regiment of horsemen on the Persian side of Smolensk, and figure out their troup positioning, maybe make an attack or two, and find out what Xerxes is doing with all those Immortals. But, once again, maybe those horsetroopers could be better used as peek-a-boo attackers..."

"Peek-a-boo?"

"I'm sorry, I was at a loss for words. As i was saying, peek-a-boo attackers in Smolensk. It would perhaps soften the blow and let the city last longer."

"I like the latter of the options. Let that be so. So is that all of the bad news today?"

"All that I would know of."

"Fine, you may go."

And he did. Catherine turned to a window of her palace that overlooked the barracks across the Volga. A few men were training. A dreadful thought came to her. Those men would probably be laying dead somewhere around Smolensk in a few weeks time.

(*thanks for the comments, i hope to get the next part out soon enough)

[Richelieu]

I hope you do too!

[jongon]

great story

[Ninot]

A little help

Anatoliy Andreyov'ch sat in a long tent set up for the spearmen, just outsite the city walls of Smolensk. The sun would be setting soon, so it was tea time. Only a few dozen men were watching the horizon, it was generally understood that the Persian's rested at night, like any normal people would.

A few men chatted, but it was generally quiet. A thought came to Anatoliy's mind that made him smirk: "Deafening Silence". Perhaps it was a proverb he heard once, or maybe it would become one if he ever muttered it alloud. But it applied well to the situation. The men didn't exactly have anything to celebrate about, and they had plenty to mourn.

The food was good, but sparse. Very few men were left to farm, and too many were drafted, so the food had to be stretched. Some soldiers had taken to the habbit of planting small gardens around Smolensk, but they were often picked by those who hadn't planted them, and they were always small, as they only had very few hours to plant them (between attacks and rest).

The soldier sitting next to Anatoliy toyed with a bean. Anatoliy hated him for not eating it quickly. The soldier muttered "Why eat? We will all die soon anyways". It was a defeatist attitude, but Anatoliy couldn't think of much to argue against it. Someone down the line did though.

He wore a Colonel's uniform, and it was kept much tidier than that of any normal soldier. He was thin, but so were most of the men in this tent. He stood up tall and walked over to the defeatist, and gave him a nice smack upside the head. The soldier fell off of his seat but rose quickly to stare at the taller Colonel. Anatoliy took the oppotunity and stole the bean.

"Why did you strike me?" said the defeatist.

"I see you weren't as pathetic as I thought. I figured a fruit fly would cripple you." replied the Colonel, which got a chuckle from those immeadiately near the two.

"Those are fighting words, Colonel."

"I suppose they are" he replied, with a punch to the gut and another to the head, sending down the defeatist to the floor in a heap.

"This man does not deserve to be fighting," shouted the Colonel to the entire tent, "he deserves to be at home still curled up in his mother's lap. This army will get nowhere if it doesn't get some spirit comrades! The Immortals fair well because they have the spirit to win!"

Anatoliy remarked: "Because they are winning"

"No, because the Russian armies sit back, and the Immortals laugh at us, because they choose when to fight, and we must oblige. That is why they win. We must strike fear in their hearts, and take the winning side."

"Are you proposing we make some sort of attack on their lines, Colonel? And may I ask of you your name?"

"Ivan is the name comrade. And although an attack would be wonderful, I am saying untill we may develop an attack force, we must give the Immortals a reason not come to the walls of Smolensk."

"So what DO you propose?"

"HEART! Love for the motherland! Because if the solider's don't have that, then why should they fight for a land they do not love? Listen all Comrades, I will kill with my own hands every man I hear with this defeatist talk." He kicked the defeatist in the ribs. "Fight for Russia, or I kill you!"

The defeatist wheezed and rolled away. Ivan stormed out of the tent, and what was a silent tent began buzzing with conversation everywhere.

*Continued soon, please keep up the feedback, good or bad*

[jongon]

great story
plz keep it up

[Metaliturtle]

it's purdy good