The Charioteer's Campaigns

[ChrisiusMaximus]

I dont know how the hell this one slipped by me, what can I say.

How about brilliant!!!

DC you really should get back to this and bring it to a conclusion somehow. Its excellently written, and I reckon I can and have learnt a thing or two from this work.

Good luck with the Novel, but while you wait to be recognised hows about some more of this ?

Heres a possible plot idea for you, bring in some of the current regular characters that haunt the stories forum to give it some relevance to them.

And I can see a new legion being raised in some border town by the rebel forces under the lead of Constantine, with Lord Chrisius Maximus assigned to lead them

Regardless of all my babbling, Ive read this whole thing in one sitting just and Ive thoroughly enjoyed every bit of it

Please find it, in fact actively search for it within you to write some more

[DarkCloud]

DC you really should get back to this and bring it to a conclusion somehow. Its excellently written, and I reckon I can and have learnt a thing or two from this work.

thank you I appreciate the praise.

and while I dont as yet feel up to writing the next installation (I still have to get back in the mood) I made some minor changes and 'prettied up' the prose in the last two sections with some edits that removed some of the vagaries that cropped in (since I was writing on the fly and didn't check spelling, grammar or logic- at one point I had 2 characters mixed up *eek*) but all that's fixed now.

After I figure out where the story was going, I'll see what time I have and craft an outline to the end. (Which will be hard- I have a lot of foreshadowing going on in the earlier sections that I need to fulfill) Then I'll be able to finish it

[DarkCloud]

Note: Okay, here's section 9
Paddy the Skot's in it. (he's the Lord from Athens mentioned earlier)... we'll get around to a Chrisius sometime later, methinks
-
*
The Next Day

“We can do nothing.” Markos declared dismally, looking around an empty camp.

“Where is everyone?” Dan frowned, scratching his head with his free hand.

Oz emerged from his tent, dressed only in a bear-skin loincloth. “What’s this racket about?” He demanded.

“The chariots are here...” Markos frowned, looking at least thirty of the machines, laid out in a row. “And the tents are here... But-”

“But what?” Oz thundered toward the two.

“But listen-” Markos held up a hand. “It’s silent.”

Oz frowned. “It IS a mighty bit too silent.”

“I fear-” Markos gulped. “They have deserted.”

“Tha mothah****ers bettah not have.” Oz clenched a fist and started thundering toward a tent, screaming at the top of his lungs- “Get UP. Get UP Motha****ers! If you’re still here get up NOW!”

A few persons stirred from their tents.

Markos looked at those who remained. “Only thirty.” He sighed.

“What’s happeninn?” Thucydididies, newly emerged from his tent, strode toward the group, bow in hand.

“They’ve deserted.” Markos pointed to the group.

“They sheem haere ta me.” Thucydididies squinted.

“There were seventy yesterday.”

Thucydididies frowned.

“What will we do?” Dan turned to Markos.

“Call off the plan?” Markos mumbled. “Flee to the cliffs.”

“Or meld in with the populace...” Dan considered.

Markos glared at him. “Many may be able to do so- but not us- I am a Captain. Braund will have had my description.”

“You may be a Captain, but I’m not.” Dan winked.

Markos continued glaring. “We cannot just abandon our King and Lord like this.”

“You may have a point.” Dan sighed. “Tell you what... If the force knows of our plan, perhaps they’ll be more conducive to following it.”

“How will that help us?”

“No more desertions...” Dan suggested.

“We don’t have enough men now.”

“We can search the hills... and I bet some wandered into town.”

“Who’s going to go into town.”

“...I will.” Dan volunteered at length. “I held back when the fighting started. Few would recognize me.”

“-But a stranger in such a small city?”

“I’ll manage.” Dan sighed. “I always do.”

Markos thought for a moment. “Then head off. We’ll move the chariots and go into the mountains.”

“How will I find you?” Dan asked.

“See that mountain there-” Markos pointed to a high peak.

“Yeah.” Dan nodded.

“We will be beyond that rise.” Markos turned from Dan, mumbling wishes of luck.

Dan smiled wryly and left, sword jangling at his knees.

*
Cannan, Babylonia

Few questions were asked. General Siddiqui, Imran of Ur took the reigns of his chariot and led the forces from the city, telling Jaguar Warrior that Tacitus had taken ill and left him in charge. Jaguar Warrior, though suspicious, followed the General’s words.

They were to strike at Delphi, on the morn. They would shatter the Greek force and take Delphi and several border cities, thereby crippling the Greek war machine and forcing them to sue for peace. Siddiqui knew he would succeed. There was no doubt.

As he rode, he knew there could be no failure. He had killed the Great General Tacitus’s son. Only a complete and utter annihilation and rout of the Greeks could ensure his life safety. And even then, he may have to suffer exile in the Persian court. But he would live. If only he could destroy the Greeks.

Siddiqui knew they were weak. Siddiqui also knew that they were in the midst of a civil war and that his forces outnumbered the fiends. The time was ripe. Fate had tossed him a smiling coin. Nebuchadnezzar II would glory in Siddiqui’s victory... and maybe the old General would die before Siddiqui returned.... Wouldn’t that be nice. No one would be there to insist for his head. The murder would be an event for celebration... for it removed an incompetent general and instated a victorious one. Siddiqui grinned.

*
Eretia, Hellas

Lord Mccleod reached his study and screamed in rage. The nation was destroying itself. Braund had caused it to feed upon itself in Civil War. With Braund’s attempted execution of Lord Padiskot of Athens, he had ripped the nation apart.

Lord Padiskot, the only Lord to have even expressed a slight disdain for Braund’s coup was not hiding, lost somewhere in the hills, Mccleod’s riders told him. Mccleod hoped the man would make his way to Eretia, then he could give him solace and safety- for a time anyway before Braund could rearm Lord Civ and lead his warriors into battle.

Mccleod, upon his return, had called for volunteers- an army of Warriors to defend the town in the event of attack and to make war upon the enemy. What he got was an army of Archers. Men from the wilds had come it, out of loyalty to the King and their Lord. They respected the King. The King had been kind to them and had provided them with as many arrows as they requested for hunting. And their Lord Mccleod, they saw him as one of themselves. He hunted, he fished, he worked for his meals. Therefore, they were more than glad to join him in battle.

But the recruitment had depopulated the countryside. Mccleod saw the coming problems. There would be famine come winter if the war was not quickly concluded. Mccleod hoped the Archers would be enough. Mccleod hoped the archers could defeat Lord Axi.

And because of the coming famine, Lord Mccleod feared he would have to lead the men on a march- whether it be to Athens to defeat Lord Braund himself, or to Delphi where he would confront the traitorous Lord Civ. Having emptied his rage, Lord Mccleod rose and turned back to the door. Taking a step, he drew closer to it... and his decision.

*
Delphi, Hellas

“Lord Civ must have left the soldiers to themselves...” A well-disguised and false mustachioed Dan muttered to himself, walking past the barracks and sighting not Lord Civ, but another man barking orders on the palisades. “Would he have gone to Athens and left the King defended only by subordinates?” Dan shook his head. Lord Civ could not have been that desperate to win favor with Lord Braund... or could he? He continued his walk.

Several times during the day, he thought he glimpsed a fellow charioteer, but each time, the man evaded him, ducking into a darkened alley or crowded alehouse. So Dan continued walking. Near the prison, hewn into the side of a mountain rock, he looked upon what must be the entire city’s contingent of Warriors, all 100 standing, armed with spears and wearing fierce looking bandanas covered with blood. It would not be simple to free the King. Not at all. He shook his head.

Continuing on his walk, he sighted a hobbled man walking slowly with a gnarled crutch. Recognizing the man, he shouted out, forgetting for the moment that he was not supposed to draw attention to himself.” “Paiktis, is that you?”

The man’s head twitched and he hurried his pace, hobbling away and atempting to appear as though he had not heard Dan’s shout.

Dan sped up and hurried to his side. “Paiktis?” He asked.

The man turned away. “No need to fear, Paiktis. We are friends.” Dan raised his false moustache. “We support Lord Axi. He did nothing wrong.”

Paiktis stopped and faced Dan. “So that may be true.” He looked as though he was about to say something more, but shook his head, then resumed walking, mumbling something to himself.

“Paiktis!” Dan insisted. Paiktis cringed hearing his name. “We need your aid.”

Paiktis whirled. “It will be for naught.”

“We need you- and all of Axi’s men.”

Paiktis shook his head. “Lord-no-King Civ has the prisons too well surrounded. Any plan to free him will fail. Any plan to retreat into the mountains is not for one such as me.” He glared down at his missing leg.

Dan spoke rapidly. “The men are for a diversion.”

“Then what use am I?” Paiktis scowled, gesturing toward his shattered leg.

“You were Axi’s adjuctant- they will listen to you. More will join knowing you are on our side.”

“You believe you can tempt the townspeople?” Paiktis frowned.

“Townspeople... Deserters- anyone- do you know of any deserters, Paiktis?”

Paiktis took a deep breath. Shaking his head, he took a step toward Dan. “Friend,” he sighed. “You know my heart... I will do whatever necessary to free my Lord.”

He took Dan’s hand in his grasp.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Good stuff, please keep it coming

[DarkCloud]

(Whew, another short interlude- but the tides of war are gathering... and all heck is about to break loose...)

(*As a side note- the loyalist charioteer units mentioned in part 8 were really under Lord Chrisius’ lead and went to Lord Padiskot. Lord Braund’s information on this subject was incorrect... he had wrongly believed that MccLeod led them)

*
Near Eretia, Hellas

Lord MccLeod surveyed his forces. Three loyalist charioteer units had come to his side and defeated Braund’s rebels outside Thessalonika. Lord Padiskot had brought the men to his side and into the cause. After he, the well beloved leader of the soldiers, had fled to the hills, the Athenian charioteer commander’s second in command, Lord Chrisius, had removed his loyalist force from the city in a bloodless attempt to peacefully convince the Athenian Lords that the will of the soldiers was not for internecine conflict, but for peace and reconciliation.

It was only after he had been removed from the city, did Chrisius realize that the Commander, Lord Vovan intended to support King Braund with all his might. Only then did Chrisius realize his mistake. Withdrawing from Athens had lost him the city. It’s mighty three units of Phalanxes and two Chariots defended the metropolis all too well, so he had removed himself to the countryside, where people said he had joined with Lord MccLeod in rebellion.

Lord MccLeod shook his head in wonder, hearing this fantastic tale brought to his attention. He had been hundreds of miles from the happenstance, and yet he, and not Lord Padiskot, nor Lord Chrisius himself was the one credited with the smashing of Lord Vovan’s Chariots and the taking of Thessalonika.

Lord MccLeod marveled at this happenstance. He had become a God in the eyes of the commonfolk. He had become a hero to them, and all that was good was attributed to him. He felt glad and honored to receive such praise and accolades when he strode into their midst. Even the Charioteers, those of Chrisius saw him with awe, the same awe that they accorded Lord Padiskot himself, the Lord who had endeared himself to them only through decades of walking the lines and sending gifts to their families and showing care and concern and competence in governing. And yet, Lord MccLeod felt conflicted. He was no hero. He was merely a simple frontiersman who had dared speak out against the powerful Spartan Lord Braund.

Lord MccLeod trembled, thinking of the possible consequences, should he fail his men and their image of him. If his forces shattered once, he feared, they would collapse. They had no King anymore- Christantine was imprisoned, and he was ill liked- all they had were their idols- Padiskot, Himself, and Lord Chrisius- the three men who, by their force of will, were attempting to hold together the Greek nation in the face of a demoralizing Civil War and a coming onslaught of Babylonian Chariots.

*
Near Delphi, Hellas

General Siddiqui, Imran of Ur sat atop his bay horse- Lightningfear- and shuddered, thinking for a brief moment of the consequences that awaited him if he failed. He must take Delphi and he must take its Oracle. For only with the Oracle would he gain the knowledge that could defeat the rest of the Greeks. And only by defeating the remaining Greeks could he guarantee his life and his lineage.

His family had been proud, stretching back many generations. They had ruled Ur for countless ages with their iron fists and sparkling swords. His Grandfather had been the greatest Babylonian warrior known for ages- it was he who defeated the Barbarian village that later became Ellipi, it was he who slaughtered an entire unit of Indian Warriors and put the fear of Tiamat into the hearts of pitiful Zoroastrian-worshipping Persians.

Yes, Siddiqui came from a long and distinguished line- and he could not imagine desecrating their memory, destroying everything that they had fought for and winning dishonor, merely because that son of Tacitus had been so ignorant, so disgustingly ignorant and idiotic that Siddiqui had been forced to slaughter him.

Siddiqui closed his eyes, then mumbled something to his Death Guard.

The Dark Cavalier saluted him, then tacked off and rode toward Jaguar Warrior and the waiting Chariots.

*
Near Delphi, Hellas

Paiktis had been true to his word. He had, with the help of the clerk Cloud, located fifteen former Charioteers and returned them to the unit. Upon their return, the deserters had initially been met with scathing stares from the loyalists, but were soon accepted into the group when the highly respected Oz of the Wolf marched forward and formally hugged Paiktis and thanked him for returning.

This strange show of emotion on Oz’s part unbalanced his audience and they soon found themselves rushing forward to greet the new arrivals.

Captain Markos looked upon this meeting with serenity in his eyes. Turning to Dan, he nodded. “See them meet.”

“Indeed.” Dan nodded enthusiastically.

Markos put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “With those we discovered in the hills, we now have over fifty.”

Dan winced at Markos’s grasp. “Yeah, we do.” He looked at him strangely.

“Is it enough?” Markos sighed.

“It’s all we can hope for.” Dan insisted.

“That may be true-” Markos exhaled. “That may be true... but-” Markos heard a war bugle. Removing his arm from Dan’s shoulder, he whipped around. The bugle sounded again. Markos’s hand went down to his sword. He started running toward his chariot.

“What’s happening?” Dan called after him.

Markos screamed back. “Babylonians!”

[DarkCloud]

And, just for anyone who is feeling lost with all the characters->

--
Greek Nobility/Other Greeks
*Christantine the Great- King of the Greeks. In delphic prison.

*Lord Velociryx- Lord of Corinth
*Lord Braund- Now King Braund. Spartan.
*Lord Mccleod- From Eretia. Loyalist Lord.
*Lord Barkley Thermopylae
*Lord Skiie Thessalonika
*Lord Grundel Delphi
*Lord Padiskot Athens Not as supporting of Braund as most.

*Lord Civ, Son of Man- scheming leader of the Legionaries. From Corinth
*Lord Axi- Commander of Chariots. In delphic prison. Athens
*Lord Aaharus- Diplomatic Envoy Athens
*Lord Chrisius- 2nd in Command in Athens of the 5 Chariot Forces. Loyalist.
*Lord Vovan- 1st in Command in Athens of the 5 Chariot Forces. Rebel.

*Alnisteria- Lord Braund’s jealous wife.
*Bella Hella- former wife of Markos. Flighty. King Braund’s mistress.

*Meton of the Turtle- Messenger to Lord Braund.

Lord Civ’s Men
?
Lord Axi’s Men
*Lord Kramerman- killed by the Babylonians in a beginning raid. Deceased.
*Thucydidides- Archer from Eretia (outskirts of empire) (hick)
*Paiktis- the adjuctant of Axi... walks with a crutch. lost a leg in the first battle.
paiktis (lord Axi’s adjuctant) [see pg 25]
*Cloud Food acquisitor, clerk and general manager of the unit
*Captain Oz of the Wolf.- from Sparta (oof, I would never betray you- If you fought on his side I'd join. I owe no loyalties except to my friends. Oof, I am wounded that you would ever consider me to betray you…)
*Diablo- Oz’s driver
*Captain Markos- dismal charioteer... depressed because his wife, Bella Hell left him. From Thessalonika
*Dan- Markos’s joking companion. From Thessalonika.

The Babylonians
*Prince Beno Nobility. The King’s nephew. Deceased.
*The Dark Cavalier (leader of Imran’s Death Guard) he has a long scar on right cheek because of Oz.
*General Tacitus Jr. (Babylonian charioteer overlord of three units. Political Appointee and son of the great General Tacitus. full of self; not really that good; pompous; royalty; foppish Deceased
*General Siddiqui, Imran of Ur
*Jaguar Warrior (ferocious commander)
*Nebuchadnezzar II Babylonian King.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Nice stuff DC and thanks for the explanation of all the characters

[DarkCloud]

(*The storms of war have gathered...)

*
Delphi, Hellas

General Siddiqui’s forces rode into Delphi, destroying the unprepared garrison, slaughtering the warriors before they could form their Phalanx and retreat behind their shields. Leading his men and surrounded by his Death Guard, Siddiqui cut a swath of destruction, burning the town hall, toppling the belltower and slaying every living creature that crossed his path.

Covered in blood, Siddiqui gave out the command to “Kill every woman and child clinging to their homes!” Then sliced down a man as he ran screaming from the courthouse. Removing his blade, Siddiqui looked at the splattered blood and frowned. This was but a small victory in a greater war. His troops would have to move soon. There was little loot in this town, and that would be fought over if he could not maintain discipline. And food- there was not as much as he had supposed. In his razing, Jaguar Warrior had destroyed the town granary, and without that there was little left. The troops would have a lean time of it marching toward Eretria.

As the sun drooped lower in the sky and evening’s gloom set upon the weary soldiers, Siddiqui ordered them to set up camp. As the burning fires died down and as the final cries of dying humanity reached his ears, Siddiqui and The Dark Cavalier walked among the force, inspecting men and ensuring that quarrels over soldier’s ownership of loot was kept to a minimum. Splitting up, so that they could cover more ground, the Dark Cavalier headed toward the Courthouse and western half of the city while Siddiqui ascended a hill and inspected the eastern half, watching Jaguar Warrior and a small contingent carrying a battering ram against the golden doors of the Oracle at Delphi. Siddiqui winced, seeing the gold dented by the wooden ram, but he knew it was necessary. There were survivors in there and they held weapons. The warriors had fled to the Oracle for protection during the battle.

Siddiqui snarled, the Oracle was supposed to be neutral toward any combatants. But, he supposed, neutrality dissipated when the combatants were foreigners. He would have liked to have slaughtered all the priestesses and done away with their foul words, but he realized that if he could receive a prophecy, that he would be in a better position to wage battle.

Leaving Jaguar Warrior and his men, Siddiqui hoped that the half-insane General would remember Siddiqui’s orders that the Oracle must remain standing and that the Priestesses must remain couth and off-limits to the soldiers. Shaking his head and doubting that the madman would remember, but realizing that it would take more than one night for the Oracle to fall, Siddiqui made his way toward his staff tent and encountered a scarred Dark Cavalier, standing by his open tentflaps.

Seeing Siddiqui, the Dark Cavalier raised a hand and bid him come close.

“What is it?” Siddiqui asked, his lips turned down. “Trouble?”

The Dark Cavalier shook his head. Whispering, he urged, “Follow me.” Then turned, gesturing with his black-gloved hand. Siddiqui followed, not liking the Cavalier’s motions.

When the Cavalier reached his destination, he showed Siddiqui the burned-out husk of the courthouse.

“What did you bring me here for?” Siddiqui demanded peevishly.

“Look.” The Dark Cavalier urged, pointing down.

Siddiqui looked. “I see nothing.”

The Dark Cavalier strode forward, then pushed some rubble aside. He pointed down.

“A grating.” Siddiqui gasped.

The Dark Cavalier nodded.

“Who’s down there?” Siddiqui stepped forward. “Prisoners? or Resistance?”

“Not just any prisoners...” The Dark Cavalier beckoned Siddiqui forth.

Looking down, Siddiqui squinted. “I can’t see anything. It is too dark.”

“Christantine.” The Cavalier bent down on his haunches, speaking into the grating. “Oh, Christantine...”

They heard shuffling.

The Dark Cavalier grinned snidely, then turned his head up to Siddiqui. “The man is down there.”

“The King- hiding? In a Prison?”

“Who would have guessed...”

“How did you know?”

The Dark Cavalier gestured to a sullied body, lying near the grating. “I was told.”

Siddiqui looked at the corpse, its face twisted in a horrifying scream. “So you were.” He nodded, his gaze returning to the grating. “What should we do?”

“We could hold the King for ransom...”

“Or?” Siddiqui’s eyebrows arched.

“We could send him to Nebuchadnezzar.”

“-And the Greeks would be fain able to resist without their King.” Imran smiled.

Together, the General and the black-armored Dark Cavalier’s shrill laughs cut through the night air and drifted up, up, up into the night.

*
The Mountains Near Delphi, Hellas

“What’s that?” Markos held up a hand.

“What?”

“Hush.” Markos strained to hear. “I think I heard laughter.”

“The troops are just enjoying themselves.” Dan commented.

Markos glared at him. “Those are dead Greeks down there.”

Dan frowned. “There was nothing we could do. You know that.”

“I know.” Markos’ fist smashed against the ground. “But I wish there had been something I could have done about it.”

Dan shook his head. “They were three divisions. They had us outnumbered.”

“But the King is down there-” Markos insisted.

“If he lives-” Dan gurgled as Markos caught hold of his collar and drew him near. “What was that?” He demanded.

“If... he- lives.” Dan coughed, staring fearfully into Markos’ flaming eyes.

“He lives.” Markos declared, letting go of Dan. “...He must.” Markos cried. Dan crept out of the tent and made his way toward the fires.

Those gathered around the fires sat in deathly silence.

Dan approached Oz and Thucydides and sat beside them. Seeing Dan, Oz grumbled. “So, now whatda hell do we do?”

“I- don’t know.” Dan spread his hands.

“Well- we bettah do somethin’ soon- because those Babylonian ******** are gonna be torturing our King if we don’t ****ing stop them.”

“But why would they let him live even that long?” Dan asked.

“You just don’t ****ing know anything about ****ing war.” Oz shook his head and stroked his beard. “Tha ****ing King’ll be held for ****ing ransom or held as a ****ing puppet in the ****ing court of the ****ing Nebuchadnezzar tha ****ing second and used to incite ****ing dissent in our ****ing nation.”

Dan colored. “We cannot let that happen.”

“That’s ****ing right we can’t, but what tha **** are we gonna ****ing do about it?” Oz demanded.

“We could continue with the original plan...” Dan suggested.

Oz stared at him, looking him straight in the eye. Dan’s gaze never wavered.

Thucydides smiled. “Wellah, first we’da have’ta locate tha man.”

“True.” Dan nodded.

Oz stood. “I’ll go on ****ing reconnaisance.”

“No.” Dan put a hand on his chest. “I’ll go... I’m small and lithe and quick.”

“Are you ****ing saying I’m not quick!” Oz’s voice rose. His hand went to his sword. Dan jumped back, holding up his hands. “No... No... I’m not saying that- I’m just saying that a man of your-- stature, would more easily be seen than one of mine.”

Oz glared, sizing up Dan. “You do have a ****ing point.” He threw himself on the ground. “Besides, I ****ing need my rest if I’m gonna ****ing lead an assault tomorrow.”

“Well... some time any way.” Dan sighed.

“You bettah act quick, fraend.” Thucydidies urged, leaning forward. “They’ll send tha King back at furst opportunitay.”

“I’ll scout out tomorrow night.” Dan decided, turning to leave.

“Hey, where’re you ****ing going?” Oz demanded.

“To speak with Captain Markos.”

Oz let loose a hearty laugh. “Yeah, you do that.” He spat into the fire. “See what the ****ing ‘General’ ****ing thinks.”

Dan cracked a smile.

*
Athens, Hellas
2 Days Later

A runner had reached him from Delphi, collapsing at the gates of Athens to give his message. He was a man from an outlying farm called Marathon and he had brought the King horrifying news. Once hardy, the man was barely recognizably human when he stumbled across King Braund’s outlying patrols. He had been covered in blood and sweat, his skin was red, burned by the baking sun, and he drooled almost incessantly. He could hardly bring himself to speak. Then, he fainted.

Captain Brenzaida of Lord Vovan’s Charioteers immediately sent for water and healers, and they nursed the man back to consciousness. As he lay dying, the man who had sprinted over 240 miles in two days over mountains and through hostile countryside, uttered his words of doom. “The Oracle- it has fallen to- Babylonians...” His eyes glazing over, the man’s head lolled to the side and he spoke no more.

Captain Brenzaida immediately rose and sent word for Lord Vovan.

*
Athens, Hellas
1 Day Later

“And this information took an entire day to come to my attention?” King Braund demanded.

Lord Vovan groveled. “My Liege, we could not wake you, you had left orders-”

Braund interrupted him. “Don’t you ****ing know when to disregard orders. Don’t you ****ing have any common sense.”

Lord Vovan flushed. “Now really, your Majesty, please. We received the man at midnight, I arrived a few hours before sunup and saw him and was told of his story. We believed that the message could wait. Besides...” His eyes traveled to the King’s well-covered arms. “I was told that you were quite busy last night...” Lord Vovan let his words hang in midair.

King Braund frowned. Rising, he cursed. “Begone from my presence!” He raised his arm, his regal robes drooping from his arm. “I must think!”

Lord Vovan gave obeisance and backed out of the room.

King Braund sat in his throne and brooded. Pulling back his robes, he looked at his arms. Cuts everywhere, slashes and bites and marks. And everyone knew. He cursed. Lord Vovan knew. His servants must know, and the King was being made a laughingstock. He cursed again. d*** his b*****, possessive, ignorant, overbearing wife.

After she had found out about Bella, it had been all Braund could do to keep the lady safe from his wife’s ‘righteous’ anger. He had hid his whore in a tower suite, long closed off by the former King and had managed to keep her presence secret for the past few days, but he wondered how long he could last. Every night the Queen tortured him- indeed- Braund winced- he had started to feel that Bella, despite her brown haired beauty, just wasn’t worth it. He no longer felt in the mood for lovemaking. He winced again. He had no idea when he might feel up to it again. Alinestra had ruined him. She had taught him a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. But Bella... Braund sighed. She was so beautiful. Maybe he could kill his wife? Order her away? But no. He shook his head. He couldn’t do that. The moral mores required the King to be a paragon of morality in order to give a sense of stability to the stinking masses of flesh lying prostrate under his rule. The traditions were clear, he could have lovers, but he could never divorce. He could vacate his bed, but he was expected to lie with his Queen at least twice a week. The nation required a Prince and until he provided one legitimate or until Alinestra surpassed childbearing age or died, then he would be required to follow the law.

Thinking of the child, he winced again, wondering if he’d ever be up to producing such a monster after what Ali had done to him. He tried not to think about it. She had been rough- very rough these past few nights. And he had been unable to escape- to do so would have seemed weak. He had tried to hide his scars, had tried to stifle his screams, but the cut on his lips, the scars on his arms, the nail-marks on his neck belied his circumstances.

But he couldn’t kill his wife... He- perversely- loved her all the more for wanting to possess him even after he had turned from her. And. He told himself. The pain- He winced- the pain almost feels good when... when it happens. His eyes glazed over. Ali hadn’t been this passionate since they had first been married. And that had been- oh so many years ago. He was... in a way, reliving his youth and was loving every minute of it.

But then again, there was Bella- beautiful Bella... locked in the tower just feet away, but miles away from his heart. He wanted her. Yes. He wanted her too. She had a gay light to her eyes that made him go wild, and her body- younger than Ali’s, felt somehow softer and more inviting. Braund sighed and cursed his fate.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Fantastic

[DarkCloud]

(So. Just wondering, for all those who are reading... which character if your favorite, and why?)

(sorry about the short update, but I feel lazy today and this little bit sets things up for later.)

*
Sparta, Hellas

Lord Civ tilted his head back and smelled the air. It was good. He felt good. His Legionnaires had disbanded and he had returned to his hometown city of Sparta. In Sparta now, he was Lord. When Braund had been elevated to King, he had placed Civ in charge, a man after his own heart, one he could trust.

Lord Civ smiled, glad to live up to his new King’s trust. Sparta, not Athens, was the jewel of the Empire, with 2 charioteer units, four warriors and 2 horsemen to defend it and to conduct raids against the barbarian tribes of the coast, and Lord Civ had been appointed to govern and defend it.

He reclined in his throne, basking in his glory.

[DarkCloud]

*
Delphi, Hellas

Dan returned in the morning, heading straight to Markos’ tent with his reconnaisance information.

“The two are not going to be easy to free.” He reported. “Lord Axi and King Christantine are still being kept in the prison.”

“Does it seem that we can break the lock?” Markos inquired.

Dan sighed, then nodded. “Yes, yes, I believe we can.”

“Then we’ll do so.” Markos grimly declared.

“Only Oz would be able to shatter the lock.”

“Then he’ll do so...” Markos’ voice trailed off. “Our plan must work, or we will all perish.”

“It will succeed.” Dan nodded.

“In two days-” Markos commented.

“Everything will be prepared. I’ll talk to Paiktis, he and Cloud will see to it.” Dan left the tent. A light drizzle began, soaking his tunic.

[Paddy]

/me reaches for the black jack and pours another







thanks

[ChrisiusMaximus]

I think Oz is one of the best characters here, I like his almost verging on the insane qualities which serve him nicely when doing battle

[DarkCloud]

(To start things off, we have a little interlude with Markos’ ex-wife Bella Hella, then we get into the much-promised fighting)

*
Athens, Hellas

Bella sat idly in her tower... Walking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, waiting for the Lord Chamberlain to come and bring her dinner. The door had been locked. King Braund had feared his wife too much, and had sought to protect her by locking her door. However, as it was, he seemed to have forgotten about her. She hadn’t seen him in days, and the Chamberlain hadn’t been by in a few hours. She was lonely. She clenched her fists. Almost as lonely as she had been when her old husband Markos was out on another one of his damned wild Charioteering Campaigns. Sighing, she threw herself on her bed and wept. King Braund wasn’t half the lover that Markos was, but he was powerful, and he tried to be charming, but his wife kept him weak. Bella sobbed. Braund was everything Markos wasn’t. He was sniveling, he was plotting, he was worried. Markos was straightforward, he was friendly, he was... well not amazingly confident, but at least he wasn’t afraid to act. But his career was going nowhere. He was a member of Lord Axi’s doomed Unit and was probably lying buried under five feet of dirt while she sobbed. And if he wasn’t buried and dead, then he soon would be. Lord Vovan and those under his command had been ordered to exterminate all Loyalist charioteers. King Braund however, has intelligent- he had greater resources, and he could treat Bella better- so what if his loving was not quite as good as Markos’s... or if it came to be that he visited her even less than Markos. She could stand that... She hoped... That was the reason she left Markos, she remembered. There were few other reasons- he was too dedicated too his work- his only failing.

Bella began to believe that she had made a mistake. Then the door opened, the Lord Chamberlain, five-course meal being carried behind, emerged, and Bella forgot the lion’s share of her troubles.

*
Delphi, Hellas

Thunder rolled in the hills.

“What was that?” Jaguar Warrior jumped to his feet, sniffing the air.

General Siddiqui, looking up from the cooking-pit and biting off a bit of lambs-meat, turned his head toward the mountains, seeing nothing. Mouth full, he sniffed and ordered Jaguar. “Go investigate it if it bothers you, take a few men.”

Jaguar Warrior tied on his sandals and darted off into the night, calling for his Guard to follow him.

General Siddiqui sighed. That one was too excitable. And too unstable. It was good that he was gone. Now Siddiqui could eat in peace.

Closing his eyes, he disappeared into a hopeful dream about honors and glories to be received, drifting further and further away from the city and the camp and his situation and his life.

Then he heard the trumpets...

*
Delphi, Hellas

“Ssshhh... Now, follow me.” Dan, crouched down behind a rock, raised his arm, motioning for the others to follow his lead.

Markos, a trumpet bouncing against his chest, ran toward Dan and pushed him aside. Then Captain Oz, brandishing Dan’s axe in his hands and wearing dual swords on his belt, came clanking down the hillside, sending several rocks tumbling down and toward the Babylonian camp. “Io’s c*nt.” He cursed, hearing the noise. Before he could let loose with a longer string of curses, Markos reached out, grabbed him, and pulled him behind the rock.

When all had arrived, Dan rushed further down the mountain, watching the fires flickering below grow greater as the Babylonian’s realized that they were under attack.

Thucydidides held back nearly out of sight of the group, bow at the ready, protecting them and clearing the way for their retreat.

In that way, the group proceeded down the mountain and toward the cells; Dan leading the way, Markos and Oz following close behind, and Thucydides creeping around far up in the shadows.

As they descended, they watched the Babylonian camp empty, leaving only a minimal rear-guard surrounding the prisons and the supply wagons.

Dan, looking at Markos, nodded his head. The secondary distraction was about to begin. He prayed that none of the guards had arrows.

Looking back at Thucydides, Dan signaled. Thucydides waved back, his hand barely visible against the blackness of the night. The clouds were working in the Charioteer’s favor. Lesser light made it more likely that the Babylonians would think a larger force had rushed around their flank.

Oz’s eyes met Dan’s. He nodded.

Dan and Markos rushed away. Oz stared at the prison-cells. Dan had briefed him on where the King would be. Oz would have to act quickly. Focusing his attention on the cell, he worked himself into a fury. There could be no hesitance once he rushed.

Markos and Dan separated and got into position; then, after a period of thirty heartbeats, they drew their trumpets from their shoulder-sheathes and blew.

The prison-guards, already tense, bristled at the sound.

Markos and Dan ran forward, keeping low and under minor shrubs.

The sounds grew louder. The prison-guards looked to each other, trying to figure out what to do.

Their Lieutenant, an edgy man, barked orders to stand fast.

An arrow sailed into their ranks. The Lieutenant repeated his order.

One of the men pointed at the shrubs. They seemed to be moving toward them.

Another man panicked, he started to scream “Ambush!”

The Lieutenant smacked him across the face and called for five men to follow him. He started up the mountain, toward the moving shrubs.

The men screamed a warning at him. He turned, more shrubs were moving toward him from the East. Several men could be concealed behind each shrub. He cursed and retreated back to the cell.

“****.” Oz muttered to himself. The Lieutenant was too well-trained to leave his post. Oz would have to try something drastic or Markos and Dan would come too close with their attached shrubs and be cut down in the field before Oz could rescue the King. Pulling his forearm back, he realized he couldn’t miss with his throw... He also realized that once he had thrown the axe, he wouldn’t be able to use it to open the cells.

Steeling himself and reaching into an inner-armor pocket, Oz popped a strange root into his mouth. Chewing on the leaves, he trembled. He had very little of this root... This root that made him impervious to pain- making him go almost berserk with rage. In a few short moments his adrenaline would be rushing at unheard of levels. For days after, he would feel weak and go into withdrawal, wanting more of the deadly root. These doubts flashed for a moment in Oz’s mind, then as the root began to take effect, he snarled them out of his subconscious. Roaring with anger, he rushed toward the guards.

One of the guards let out a shriek and ran when he saw the maddened Oz rushing down the side of the mountain. Watching him run, his fellows started muttering.

“Attack from all sides?” The able-Lieutenant asked himself incredulously. Turning back to his men, he ordered them to stand fast. Then the axe hit him. The Lieutenant dropped. His men ran. As he lay bleeding, the Lieutenant felt disgusted. He had done everything right. He had done honor to his unit. And now he was dead... Only because that fiend had thrown an axe over seven yards and impaled it in the side of the Lieutenant’s neck. Cursing Tiamat and all the Babylonian pantheon, the Lieutenant perished.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Nice