Lands of Darkness

[Easthaven I]

Sorry for the late reply, I come on here like once or twice a week to read some stories. Sorry about the hanger, I'm such an arsehole , I actually have I think two or so installments in the gutter waiting to be posted but I think I'm gonna wait until I get a major chunk done. School's been a biotch, buddy.

Good to hear you finish FfF. I think you started that story around the same time as I started this one. Good job chap. I think I'm a few posts behind in reading though, I need to catch up, and once I do you will get a well deserved praise I'm sure. If you ended it as well as you wrote the rest of the story, you got my vote for the story contests.

[vovan]

Originally posted by Easthaven I
I actually have I think two or so installments in the gutter waiting to be posted but I think I'm gonna wait...

You are too mean. It's been a while since the last installment. I had rather hoped you would post something soon.

[Easthaven I]

Well if you insist, I guess I could give up my reserves. But I must warn you, I don't know when I'll be able to get some more up, and I fear its taking away the effect of the story, by having so many delays and to the reader its becoming more of a burden to keep up with than it is an enjoyment to dive into...

[Easthaven I]

Lands of Darkness

The Duke’s Throne
September 20th, 1468AD 9:00 AM
The Kremlin, Moscow

The door to the king’s chamber opened and in walked a servant.

“Sire, your bath is ready. Do you wish for me to dress you, Your Excellency?” the young servant asked.

The body lying firmly in the bed did not move nor stirred to give any sign of acknowledgment.

“Sire?” the servant said as he walked towards the bed chamber. He leaned over to the expressionless face of the king. “King?..”

The servant shook the corpse and was surprised to feel such coldness and stiffness. He finally realized what had befallen the king. His eyes widened as he backed off from what once was the great Russian conqueror.

He turned and ran out of the room hollering to the top of his lungs that the king was dead! The king was dead!…




September 20th 1468AD 1:00PM
The Duke, Frederick, estate

The pine doors of the large home of the Duke exploded off the hinges as Russian soldiers, in reddish clothing and silver armor, of the Prince rammed the entryway. The Prince’s guardsmen began storming through killing all servants and guests of the Duke.

They made their way to the main hall and began marching towards the Duke’s office and quarters located at the end of the hall.

The armed soldiers’ footsteps echoed off the walls, making the picture frames vibrate.

They finally arrived at the far end. They huddled about the door.

“Break it down.” Ordered the officer.

The ram was brought forth and two men began to ready it.

“Wait!” came a call from the end of the hall.

The officer and his company of soldiers turned and saw a company of swordsmen. They were dressed in a new uniform, not regulated in the Russian military. It was dark blue and black. Their armor shined, their beards long.

“Who are….” The officer of the red soldiers was interrupted by the footsteps of soldiers in blue running across the balcony on each flank of the main hall.

These blue soldiers of the Duke were bowmen. There were as many needed to fill the entire walkway on both sides.

“We are your death.” Answered the officer of the swordsmen to the unfinished question of his adversary.

The bowmen above armed themselves and they took aim.

The officer of the blue swordsmen smiled as he raised his hand and barked…

“RELEASE YOUR ARROWS!”…..



September 20th 1468AD 1:12 PM
The Kremlin

“So is it done?” Asked Prince Konev as he leaned back on the front of his desk.

“Yes, Excellency. The guards should be there now.” The General said as he stood at attention.

“Good.”

Just then, a commotion could be heard outside the doors of the main office of the king, which Prince Konev was now occupying.

“What is going on out there?” Konev asked to no one in particular.

A thud was heard on the other side of the door. Then the doors broke open under the pressure of a ram. Duke Frederick entered, crossbow in hand and two blue guards flanking him.

The trigger was pulled, hurling an arrow into the bottom of the General’s neck. He collapsed to the ground.

The Duke continued forward, dropping the crossbow to the floor. The sound of metal on metal accompanied the sound of the Duke’s footsteps as he unsheathed his sword and stepped over the corpse he had just made.

“It is time to bow down to you, brother.” Frederick said.

Prince Konev started back in sheer terror but was stopped by his own desk. He shrunk back as far as he could. He could not think of any way out as the Duke came closer, sword of death in his hand.

“No Frederick! No my brother!” The Prince pleaded.

Frederick brought the hilt into both his hands and held it high above his head, the point of the sword pointing downwards at the Prince.

“Noo…”croaked the Prince as a tear rolled down his cheek.

The sound of metal cutting flesh and the splinting of wood came after as the blade pierced through the victim’s upper chest and came to a halt half-a-foot into the desk beneath.



September 20th, 1468AD 5:00PM
Memel Estate, located on the outskirts of Moscow

The whole house was in a commotion. The family of Memel and Memel himself rushed room to room, desk to desk, drawer to drawer, collecting all their valuables and essentials. A loyal servant had rushed to Duke Memel to inform him of the coup d’etat. The plan to kill the weakling younger brother had failed beyond belief and reversed so distinctly and unbelievably that it was still a shock for Memel. He just could not grasp the concept fully. How could such a thing happen without any sort of warning or sign?

“We’ve gotten enough, Sarah! Grab the child and let us go, with all possible haste.” Memel ordered.

“To the front?!” Sarah called back, suitcase in one hand and papers clamped to her chest by the other.

“No, the back! There is a carriage waiting.” Memel exclaimed as he began running towards the back door, his wife following behind. Memel picked up his 7 year old boy by the back door.

They raced down the steps as fast as they could. The driver held the carriage door open for the family.

“Through the wood via the back roadway, Kovei.” Memel said to the driver before he entered the carriage.

The driver quickly grabbed the reigns and with a bark the carriage was on its way in the opposite direction of the mansion towards the woods and the setting sun. The woods was but one hundred meters away, and the carriage had traveled some twenty meters when the blue horsemen appeared at the back of the mansion, Duke Frederick at the head.

Memel looked out the window and beheld the horsemen begin their chase with such speed and intensity that it seemed their life goal was to catch him and his family.

“Faster, Kovei! Faster, they are upon us!”

The blue horsemen raced forward in line and soon formed a semi circle slowly enveloping the carriage. One horseman in the lead shot an arrow into the chest of the driver, while another galloped to the flank of the carriage and took the reigns. The carriage halted.

The horsemen tightened the circle, bows in hand. Another group of horsemen arrived carrying boards, hammers, and nails. With an order from the Duke, they leapt from their mounts and rushed to the carriage.

Sarah held her child to her breast, tears rolling down her cheeks. The child whimpered. Memel looked all around wide-eyed trying to decipher the sounds from outside, and trying to predict what would befall him and his family. Would his own brother take his life? The lives of his family? He could not be so cold and cruel. Yet he himself was about to do the same to Frederick, and with that thought he lost all hope.

The windows were boarded up, the doors clamped shut. There was no way out, only the inside of his carriage could he see and will ever see.

The soldiers stood back, waiting their next order.

“What now, Duke?” Frederick’s second asked.

Frederick sat upon his black stallion, his head held high, his eyes as icy and deathly as the corpse of his grandfather lying in his bed.

“Bring forth the torch!” he barked, not removing his eyes upon the horseless carriage.

A soldier appeared, marching towards the carriage with a lit torch in his hand.

“Wait!” Frederick called from his horse.

The soldier turned, puzzled at the halt order.

Frederick jumped down from his horse, his black cloak lifted momentarily by the air rushing beneath it.

“Bring it here.” He ordered.

The soldier obediently gave the Duke the torch.

Frederick held it, the crackling of the flame of the torch filled the silence. The child’s whimpers and the wife’s sobs could not be heard from the inside of the carriage.

Frederick looked away from the torch, and his eyes befell his target. He began towards the carriage, and lowered the torch under the carriage door. He walked around lighting up parts of the carriage until the entire wood object was engulfed in flames.

He threw the torch under one of the wheels and backed away from the entombed family.

The child’s whimpers, and the wife’s sobs turned into screams as they felt the heat and smoke seep into the compartment.

Frederick stood staring intently at the destruction.

Memel’s voice erupted from the fire, somewhat muffled.

“Brother! You have forsaken your blood! You have forsaken your kin!” Memel cried out, “Providence will return the sin you have committed this day!”

Those were the last words that filled the air, but not the last sounds. The screams lasted for nearly fifteen minutes, the crackling of the fire took over after that.

The sky turned dark blue as the sun fell below the horizon. The flames reflected off the eyes of the new king of Russia. Not a muscle on his face moved during the entire death sentence.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Phew!!

I certainly aint going to mess with Frederick, good stuff East. Great development here, please please please keep it coming

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Oh come on East were all eagerly waiting for some more


PLEASE

[Paddy]

Originally posted by ChrisiusMaximus
Oh come on East were all eagerly waiting for some more


PLEASE

HERE! HERE!

I agree

[ChrisiusMaximus]

WE WANT EAST!! WE WANT EAST!! WE WANT EAST!! WE WANT EAST!! WE WANT EAST!! WE WANT EAST!! WE WANT EAST!! WE WANT EAST!! WE WANT EAST!!

[Easthaven I]

Lands of Darkness

The Escape of the KING
September 24th, 1468AD
Outside Arbela

Fornalin sat leaning against a pair of bars imprisoning him. Though he had regained an enormous amount of his strength back, he still felt tired, weak, and worn out. But he kept his focus and was ever on alert for an opportunity to present itself. Ever patient, he was, for the eye of Providence to find him and give him his needed opportunity.

As he leaned his head back and rested his arms upon his bent knees, he kept watch on Kalish, the Russian commanding officer, through the slits of his eyes as he kept his lids down.

The sun shoned its light on the horizon, to give warning to the world on its approach. Kalish was speaking with a group of men, two of which had arrived in the night. They had brought some distressing news, it seemed to Fornalin. They were speaking for quite a while then Kalish seemed to reach a conclusion in his thoughts and barked orders to his subordinates.

Later that morning the company of soldiers had assembled, and the prisoners and guards as well. They began to set out but something significant occurred. Providence seemed to give Fornalin a sign of an approaching opportunity. The Russian company of 250 detached from the convoy and began a march north on the road to Persepolis. While Fornalin in his cage, the ten shackled Persians, and 20 guards took a different route, the eastern road heading towards Herat Lake and the city of Herat. Fornalin simply kept his head leaned on the bars and couldn’t help but reveal a slight grin momentarily.

“Help me, father,” he said under his breath, “aid me in my flight. Give me strength and cunning to get back to my men.”


They marched on for two days. Fornalin simply sat and waited. The prisoners kept their march. The guards kept to their assigned task. Kalish stayed upon his horse at the forefront.

They came across a field of green grass, their path leading across it. A large forest was a 100 or so yards away. Fornalin was in his usual seated position.

“Psss.” Came a call ever so silently, barely above the sound of breath. Fornalin heard it but gave no sign that he did. He remained seated, leaning against the bars, his back to the call.

“How are we going to get you out.” Came the next comment. It was from Marcus Brancus, marching beside the cage.

Fornalin grinned. He was proud of Marcus. He still had hope, which was enough to instill the same hope and determination in Fornalin.

“We wait. My ancestors will provide the opportunity, we will commit to action when it arrives.” Fornalin said in the same ear-straining tone. Marcus obeyed, evident by his silence.

They marched on and as if Providence itself heard his plea the wagon hit a deep long ditch, hidden by the grass, and tipped over. Fornalin rolled out of the roof from the momentum of the fall. He rolled down the small slope and came to a halt. He looked up somewhat caught off guard and realized the gift from his ancestors was given. A split second later he jumped up and ran with all his might towards the distant forest.

“Do not let him get away! After him!”

“What about the prisoners!”

“Five of you stay to kill five prisoners then guard the other five. While the rest CHASE HIM DOWN!”

And so he was obeyed. Fifteen guards ran down the shallow slope and chased Fornalin. But they could not even close the distance. Their armor kept them slower than their full potential and Fornalin seemed to run with a deep unquenchable hunger.

Kalish saw this and decided he would have to do it himself. With a kick of his legs his horse darted down the slope and across the landscape.

Fornalin ran as fast as his weak legs could take him. He felt nothing but his undying urge to run. Run fast. And though he had an immense headstart, the beast of Kalish was closing the distance quickly. The foot guards were still far behind.

But Fornalin merely looked back once, for it was enough to make him sprint faster and harder for the haven of the woods.

He made it. He ducked a low branch and jumped over a large tree root as he refused to slow his speed.

But Kalish followed. The horse galloped through the trees. Both master and horse were focused on their hunt.

Fornalin did not lose his senses, though. His wit was still under his control. He stopped when he saw a large thick stick he could wield and he hid behind a tree.

He waited, he was becoming accustomed to it.

Then he heard the hooves of a beast. The sounds grew louder, closer. He peaked around the tree and saw his enemy nearing. And at the perfect time he committed to action. He swung his large staff around and struck the horseman in the chest, sending the rider off his horse and landing with a thud onto the ground.

Fornalin did not pause but a second before he leapt upon his foe and delivered blow after blow with his fists to the head of his opponent. He felt and heard bones break under his knuckles and felt the sprinkle of a liquid across his forehead and nose. He did not halt or ease up for what seemed a long time. He finally did but only to unsheath the man’s sword and slice his head off. He grabbed the head by the hair and hurled it into the brush in a fit of rage. He screamed to the top of his lungs, adrenaline pumping like mad throughout his body. Kalish’s horse was nearby, and this caught the eye of the Persian King. He made his way towards it and with a strong swing of the stolen sword he decapitated the beast.

“DEATH TO ALL RUSSIANS, BE IT MAN OR BEAST!” he cried out with all his might. His call being heard by even the prisoners back at the wrecked wagon.

He saw a bow and bag of arrows attached to the horse he had decapitated, he quickly grabbed those and refocused his immediate objective. He leapt back up and emerged with the forest.

He crept back towards the field but halted as he saw something unnatural within the midst of nature. It was metal. He brought out an arrow and killed he who reflected light from his wear.

Fornalin moved on with an immense amount of energy. Then he saw the unnatural again. A line of six of them approaching. Creeping over brush and stone. They seemed hesitant, no doubt fearing that scream of vengeance earlier from the famed immortal of old.

Fornalin crept to the side and brought out three arrows. He stuck two in the ground and strung one with his bow. He aimed for the farthest to him…the arrow was released, and another dead man littered the ground. He quickly strung another arrow and released, killing another. Another strung up, and released and yet another fell dead.

Fornalin then threw the bow to the ground and grabbed Kalish’s sword in his right, and an arrow in his left.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!!” he hollered in madness as he ran towards the three remaining soldiers.

Everything happened so fast, the three falling dead as if by the hand of fate. And then a hideous scream of rage shattering the silence of nature. The man whom seemed like an old pile of bones needing to die was now not something to be pitied but something to be feared. The king of rage and craziness, this tall man emanated chaos, fear, and death. His teeth showed white like an attacking wolf. He ran too fast and started the whole incident to quickly for the men to even unsheath their swords. He jumped on the middle man, sticking the arrow into the Russian’s eyes. As the body crashed into the ground, Fornalin rolled forward and sprung up with still more energy. He struck at the man on the right and with the force he gave to the sword he sent the man into the ground, though with only a dented chest plate. Fornalin then grabbed the right arm of the man on the left to prevent him from unsheathing his weapon. Fornalin stared into his eyes for a split second before head butting him, crushing his nose. The man’s nose was broken, but within a half second his face was slashed and his skull cracked open. The other man had risen again but tried to back away, giving him space to unsheath his weapon. But Fornalin would have nothing of it. He threw the sword and it pinned to the man’s face, he simply collapsed.

Fornalin unsheathed the man’s sword and made his way towards the field he had fled from. He reached the edge of the woods and witnessed a new company of Russian soldiers. Possibly 20 to 30 more, all on horseback. It seemed the prisoners rebelled before the Russians could kill them, which is why only seven were sent after him, not the assigned fifteen. And the new Russians were merely another traveling group of soldiers. But the prisoners were now under control, the ones left alive. And the new company began making their way towards his position, along with 10 of the guards.

His adrenaline eased up, and thus he began hurting. He felt himself succumbing to exhaustion and for a moment his will and hope of escaping was slightly doubted. But he regained his hope. He turned and ran with all his might through the woods. He ran and ran, fell but rolled to only spring up again and continue running with all his might he had ever mustered.

He ran for hours. He ran until the sun shoned its light over the horizon only this time to give a final goodnight to the world. And within moments into the newly arrived darkness, Fornalin himself collapsed into shadow, his body and mind unable to sustain the work.


========================

OOC: Here's somethin somethin. I've been getting some new ideas on where to take this. Expect some improved armies, epic battles, genius tactics, twists and turns and whole lot of stuff. Though when it will get here, i do not know. But hopefully soon, probably soon.

[Paddy]

Thank You East

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Ooh ooh was it my chanting that bought you back East baby

cant wait to see some more my friend, and that was as ever superb

[Easthaven I]

Lands of Darkness

Persian Tide Flows East.
September 21st 1468AD
Ergili Pass

Philip sprinted up one of the rolling hills at the foot of the great Ergili Mountains. Pavil was not far behind. Up above, a line of Russian soldiers stood.

“AHHHHHhhh!” He cried out as he neared the enemy line. A Russian lifted his weapon but it was swiped aside by Philip’s round shield and he was struck by Philip’s sword as the Persians clashed into the Russian company.

Arrows whistled through the air. Companies of Russians began to fall back under the pressure of the domestic invaders.

Belisarius rode forth upon the hills, flanking and circling the Russian forces. His company rode with fury, crushing all the footmen in their paths as they galloped forth with the thunder of gods. Belisarius at the lead, sword held high, he began left as he past the last Russian line of archers.

“CHARGE INTO THEM, MEN! LET NONE LIVE TO TELL THE TALE! AHHHHH!”

Belisarius was the first to clash into the soft archer lines, crushing them under the hooves of his beast, he had not yet even swung his sword. The rest of his company did likewise, they rushed through the archer lines like an unstoppable force of nature guided by the hand of God. Their momentum was not slowed. Belisarius did not halt as he crushed a few archers in the last line. He continued forth, and his men followed his lead.

Datis, too, lead a company of his horsemen on a flanking maneuver. He charged into the rear of the enemy swordsmen meleeing the Persian company Philip was in. They routed immediately under the pressure and began to flee.

“CHAAAAARGEE!” hollered Hasduman as he lead his force of Immortals into the enemy center crushing it with ease as they fled. His horsemen galloped on, beheading the routers as they fled before the might of the Persian Army. The enemy’s forces were scattered as they struggled to escape.

“Good. They are done with. Belisarius has attacked the rear on the right, and Datis has done the same on the left. The enemy is in chaos.” Cornelius said to himself as he stood ontop one of the rolling hills. “Very well men!,” he hollered as he unsheathed his sword, “Let us finish them. Heeyah!” he kicked his horse, making it spring forward, his Guard followed. Up and over the rolling hills, into the pass of Ergili, he entered the fight and galloped across the battlefield decapitating the retreating enemy.




September 25th 1468AD
Moscow

Frederick was walking through his main military camp as his advisors walked with him. He did not walk casually but with a force and will like a king and general.

“So they have taken Ergili Pass and are but a day or two away from Persepolis.” He said in response to the updates given to him. He halted by a weapon cache and began inspecting the swords.

“This blade is too dull,” he said grazing his finger on the edge. He then threw it back down, “I want our weapons to be the best. I want no dull blade in my kingdom. Find new smiths if you have to. And if you can’t, train new ones.”

“Yes my lord.”

He then continued on walking, his small cadre keeping up.

“Retreat from Persepolis.” He said as he came upon a company exercising sword fighting with wooden sticks. “Retreat from Perspolis, and fall back to the Fort of Vadela.”

The commanders were taken aback. Russia had not retreated from anybody in most of its history. Under the former King, no retreat was ever called.

“But sire, are you sure that is wise?”

Frederick then averted his eyes from the exercise and looked at the commander who asked him such a question. “If I wasn’t, General Warwick, I would not have ordered it.”

“But what good is it to retreat, these are but rebels…”

Frederick then turned his whole body to face the disagreeing general.

“They are not merely rebels, general. They are a force to be considered our most immediate threat. We have not yet achieved victory in a battle with them. An entire army has been annihilated by these REBELS as you call them. And might I add, these REBELS were outnumbered. This army is being led by the most competent field commanders ever to grace this world. The people who fight in it are driven by vengeance, freedom, and glory. They fight not for money or land but for the sake of killing Russians, driving us from the area. And you dare call them but rebels! I can not dare conceive the idea that my grandfather the great Russian conqueror would ever employ such a fool as commandant of the cossacks! I would laugh if we were not in such dire straits!” He scolded.

The commander bowed his head as to not make eye contact with the King.

“Lucky for us, their leader, heir to the Persian throne and son to King Elias former King of Persia, is being brought to me. Possibly their greatest weapon has been captured by sheer luck. But still we can not underestimate the enemy.”

He then looked back at the exercise and began rubbing his chin. He focused his eyes on the men drilling, improving their skills of swordfighting.

“We will give them land, more land then they can handle at this moment. They might run the risk of spreading their forces a little more. Right now, all their commanders and manpower is concentrated in one area. Too great for even the Russian Empire to handle. Besides I am going to reorganize our entire military force. It could last well over a year but once it is done we will crush them under our refined iron fist.”

“Your Excellency, what exactly do you plan to do with our army? It seems fine the way it is.” Another asked.

“It is not fine the way it is, if it were we would not have been utterly destroyed by an inferior army. Our methods of fighting is too chaotic. We simply gather our men and send them into melee. At least the Persians have squads that fight together in melee while every Russian soldier fights for himself. Lines are to be created, men grouped into sections based on their weaponry and armor. Archers used more efficiently then petty quibbles. Cavalry heavily armored enough to charge headlong into the enemy crushing them with ease. We need greater intelligence in the field, knowing where to strike and when to strike. I want spears and shields created to be strong and light and given to a particular group of men, they will be the spear unit. I want swords with blades sharp enough to hew off heads like a warm knife through butter. Smaller shields will be given with the swords to a group of these men and they will be the designated swordsmen. I want archers drilling on archery more than melee fighting. I want cavalry split into three groups. I want light cavalry numerous and lightly armored. They should be armed with javelins, bows, and light swords. I want a heavy cavalry unit armored from the chest of the beast to the head of the rider. Clad in metal these men will be like hammers, the enemy its nails. They should have lancers, with a heavy sword or mace as their melee weapons. Then a medium cavalry unit which should be the mix of the two. We need armies that can do it all, generals. I have been working on these new methods of warfare, tactics, and strategy for several years. I know what I speak of. Books are being copied as we speak to be handed to each of you. You will begin these new methods under my supervision. However long it takes, it shall be done. Now get back to your posts. I am done with you.”

“Yes my lord.” They answered and began to walk away.

“Nogorod.” He called, one of the commanders halted and began towards his King.

“Yes my lord.”

“I want you to be in charge of gathering information on the Persians. Gather your scouts and pick the best to send out into Persia to spy on their activities. I want to know everything about that land and its inhabitants.”

“I will do as you say, King. How many should I send?”

“Keep in mind, Nogorod, these aren’t merely scouting parties. I want SPIES do you understand. I want them to emerge with the Persians and be as one with them. I want information on the people, places, and movements. I don’t just want their eyes, I want their ears and mind. Send as many as you can send and keep sending them. Have them report back as soon as possible and remain gathering information.” Frederick told him, his arms crossed and his eyes unwavering.

“As you wish.”

And with that he was alone, witnessing his army training. His reorganizing and retraining of his military forces well underway. The Persian tide was flowing eastward, but the Russian giant had not yet been fully awakened.


=================================

OOC: Yes sir, Max, I just could not turn from the chanting. I kept hearing, "WE WANT EAST WE WANT EAST" in my dreams followed by cheering as I approached the crowd. It was quite satisfying to say the least.

Paddy and Chrisius, I appreciate your attentiveness and patience greatly.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Nice stuff East its good to see the flow coming back

[aneeshm]

Excellent stuff , East . Keep it up .

[ChrisiusMaximus]

My heart skipped a beat when I came here this morning and spotted this story had been bumped, only to be dashed by the realisation that there was no new chapter.

Oh East this is excrutiating, Please Please Please come back and write for us