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Old January 18, 2003, 00:14   #61
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lol. Hey man, these Immortals are out for vengeance. Especially overhearing this Russian about killing innocent women.
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Old January 18, 2003, 02:51   #62
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Vengeance begins in the West
…continued

The Aleppo Massacre

March 6th 1468AD, somewhere near Aleppo

A small Russian company was marching down the trail, on their way to Aleppo. They just got back from supplying an outpost nearby. They didn’t know that once they left the outpost it was overrun by Emir’s Immortals…only two survived and were taken prisoner.

The small company numbered eighty-five men, all walking on foot and in a column with one carriage being pulled by two horses. As they emerged from the small forest they began marching into a depression in the land, flanked by the elevated ground some fifteen to twenty feet high. It ran like this for a mile until stopped by another small forest. It gave the impression of a scar upon the earth.

The Russian troops marched on without a care in the world. A few conversations sparked here and there but faded away. The commander riding on the carriage chewed on a straw as he stared beyond. The soldier next to him was guiding the horses with the reigns.

Then the lazy scene changed dramatically, as the first two men of the column fell as the ground beneath them opened up into a wide pit. Both killed instantly by the stakes set at the bottom. The column immediately halted, stunned by the change of events.

From each flank, seemingly out of thin air, appeared cloaked men standing tall upon the crests of each hill, armed with a bow. No more than fifteen on each side, did they number.

The straw dropped from the gaping mouth of the commander as he sat idly on the carriage. A sole arrow streaked the air to claim its first victim.

The commander looked down and saw an arrow protruding from the left side of his chest, before finally he collapsed…dead.

Soon after the first, several more arrows followed…as if like rainfall. The whistles filled the air, claiming victim after victim. Finally, after many had fallen, the men below reacted. They split in two and attempted to charge up the hills in an effort to kill their would-be attackers. All the way up, receiving the shower of arrows. They screamed their war cries, trying to scare the enemy. As the left group neared the bowmen standing tall above…another group of soldiers appeared over the crest, between each archer…swords in hand. This second group charged down, slicing the shocked Russians to pieces. They were as silent as the wind, in which fed the Russians’ fear. It was as if these cloaked figures were ghosts or warrior spirits of Persia, appearing to seek vengeance upon the Russians for their unjust cruelty.

They seemed like many but they numbered only a dozen.

The other side appeared to receive the same situation. The Russians stunned by the sudden attack of the unseen swordsmen, were getting massacred.

Soon the Russians retreated back down the hill. The cloaked swordsmen ran back behind the archers… and the archers resumed their volleys.

The Russian numbers dwindled quickly, the men tried to hide behind the horses or under the carriages, but it was futile. One even tried to get the carriage and ride off, but as soon as he approached the reigns he received an arrow to his chest for his pitiful attempt.

What amplified their fear were the screams from their comrades and the silence from their executioners.

Finally they all began screaming for mercy and fell to their knees in submission. One soldier ripped off a piece of cloth from the carriage and began waving it like his life depended on it. A few prayed, terror streaking their hearts as they heard the whistle of arrows flying all about.

Finally, the rain of arrows stopped. The thirty archers stood, arrows in place in each bow. One of the Immortals marched down the hill, sword drawn. He was followed by eleven others, and twelve more swordsmen began coming down from the other side.

The Russians, the lucky ones still breathing, were rewarded with mercy.

Twenty-seven Russian prisoners…twenty-seven Russian survivors.

To be continued…

Last edited by Easthaven I; February 25, 2003 at 22:08.
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Old January 18, 2003, 04:37   #63
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Magnificent!! Both parts!! slightly graphic in the bar scene but more than understandable in the context of the story, a very well written and exciting story.


Great work my shaven friend.
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Old January 18, 2003, 10:31   #64
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Keep 'em coming, East.
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Old January 18, 2003, 12:44   #65
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Excellent! I've been waiting for a satisfying battle like those two.

Jeez, I thought my story was graphic...
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Old January 18, 2003, 15:09   #66
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Speaking of which Tom hows your story coming along ? any chance of seeing some more
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Old January 18, 2003, 16:34   #67
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Yes, we are all eager to see the final of the story, Guitarist. It's been a while since the last installment.
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Old January 19, 2003, 16:16   #68
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Vengeance begins in the West
…continued

Fort Trilo
April 2nd 1468AD

For nearly a month, the Immortals waged war upon an unsuspecting enemy, whom still was not quite sure to what was occurring. Fornalin assumed his Immortals would be outnumbered, but in truth the enemy were the ones often found inferior in both numbers and skill, for they were scattered and arrogant. The Immortals would simply isolate the groups and annihilate them. Even in the cities the Russians were scattered about. Quickly and quietly the Immortals would ambush the Russians in alleyways or in the forests, usually under the cover of night. Soon West Persia was free of Russian control, only Fort Trilo remained.

1,200 Russian Soldiers garrisoned the Fort. They received messages of what was occurring throughout the land before Fornalin and the others could arrive. So the garrison waited, knowing that soon whatever rebels causing revolts in the west would soon turn their heads towards Fort Trilo. The Commander, Goris Kukov, also knew that the rebels couldn’t be larger than a few hundred men. He looked forward to their arrival, knowing his superior forces would annihilate the rebels in a simple frontal assault…no sneak attacks or stabbing from behind. And the King would credit and reward him for ending the revolt. He already dreamt it, both at night and during daylight.

Kukov stood on the wall of his fort, looking at the setting sun…picturing the rebels coming into view and gradually approach.

“Lord, when do you think they will arrive?” asked his subordinate.

“Soon. I would say a few days…and in a few days we will kill the enemy and after we’ll be invited to Moscow, to dine with the King.” He said arrogantly as he turned and smiled.

“Of course, my lord.” His subordinate smiled back.


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


Fornalin sat in a chair in front of his tent, beholding his army encampment. Just a day ago the forces united, Belisarius’ company was the first to arrive at the spot two days earlier than the others. They then set their camp four miles west of Fort Trilo, the garrison totally unaware of their arrival.

Fornalin was deeply joyed to hear there were no deaths among any Immortal, and only ten received minor wounds that could be healed within weeks. He gave much praise to Emir, Borio, and Belisarius. All was going as planned. His Immortals had food and supplies, and now just one more obstacle was in the way of Fornalin securing his base of operations.

So he sat and thought. Fort Trilo was built a few generations ago. A heavily defended position, it was. No one in history has ever been able to break into its barriers and subjugate the defenders. The Russians even tried and failed when they first invaded Persia. Finally they had to starve the defenders out far after the war was already lost.

Four hundred men against twelve hundred?, he thought, against such an impregnable fortress? Even if we were to succeed, in victory we would find defeat, for out of four hundred of the best warriors only few would survive. I would lose the only weapon that gives Persia the chance of victory.

He sat calmly trying to dissect this situation to the very last and smallest detail. Trying to remember the teachings of Zhuge Liang, trying to remember his past wars and his father’s past wars.

Attacking the fort will be too great a cost, victory unworthy to the debt I will pay. But it must be taken. He thought, ...how do I conquer an unconquerable fortress whose garrison outnumbers my army 3 to 1?

He squinted his eyes as he strained to think of the solution. He stared blankly at his encampment. Soldiers walked about, few groups formed. Local villagers walked about talking and offering aid to the men.

He looked about, looking for an advantage he could wield against his foe. To his left was a farm, full of harvest. Villagers worked diligently gathering the grain. To his right was a field, a few hills and trees scattered about. A few cows grazing, standing patiently eating grass…as if they lacked purpose.

Then an idea sprouted in his mind, and soon it took form.

“Cornelius,” He called. Cornelius sat obediently next to him, probably thinking of his wife.

“Yes, General.” He said as he removed himself from his daydream.

“Find out who owns those cows. And give the owner aid in gathering the largest herd you can muster.” He ordered, “I need a large herd of cows, Cornelius. Well over a thousand. And gather as many villagers as you can as well.”

“Sir? Fornalin, what…why do you…”

“Just do it Lord Cornelius…you’ll see.” Confidence flooded the eyes of Fornalin, and Cornelius no longer needed to know the answer.

“As you wish, General. I am guessing you’ve thought of a plan. Who am I to question the master of deception.” He stood, “A herd you shall have.” Cornelius then walked off to carry out one of the most unusual orders Fornalin ever gave him.


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


April 6th 1468AD

Kukov went to his bed after another day of waiting, darkness of night swept about his fort. No sign of rebels whatsoever, he began to even doubt if they still existed.

Then in the middle of the night, when it was most dark, he was awakened by his subordinates…the rebels had arrived.

---------------------

“How many are there?” He said as he marched up the steps towards the top of the wall.

“There are many, sir. Far more than we expected. Look for yourself.” His subordinate responded.

They emerged and came upon the wall of the fort. Kukov looked out into the darkness, the new moon hanging in shadow high above. He beheld a sight, not of a ‘few hundred’ rebels, but well over a thousand, possibly two thousand. All around the fort he beheld the light of hundreds upon hundreds of torches. There was one mass group to his front in constant movement.

“Heavens! How could such a force appear out of thin air! Why did you not see this coming!” He yelled at his subordinate.

“I don’t know. We haven’t heard from our scouts, I assume they’ve captured them.” He said pointing towards the lights.

“Look! Some are coming!” Yelled a Russian guard.

It was true. A small group emerged from the mass and slowly came. As they neared, he could see that there was but eleven mounted men…hardly an attack.

“They’ve come to talk.” The commander said. He turned and marched back down the steps…


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


Fornalin Varha galloped at a slow trot. He was accompanied by ten others, five on each flank. All eleven of them were clad in armor and cape…the suit of an Immortal. Such bright silver radiated their supremacy in the art of war. These men did not look exactly like the men who left Cornelius’ home, these men were soldiers of nobility in the highest order. Just the sight of these eleven would instill the feeling of inferiority.

Cornelius rode on his right, and Hasduman on his left. Belisarius was among his company as well.

“Attaching torches to the cows…”Cornelius said as he chuckled, “…and gathering unarmed villagers to hold up some torches as well…men, women and children…like a festival…”

The others laughed at the unusualness of it all, but still did not doubt that it could work.

“You’re laughing now, Cornelius, wait and see my plan achieve its purpose.” Fornalin said, “Do you doubt its success?”

“No no, my friend. Your plans, however strange they might be at times, seldom fail.” Responded Cornelius.

“Why did we have to suit up as if we’re about to fight the King’s personal guard themselves?” Belisarius asked.

“Because Belisarius, to give the impression that this army isn’t one of inexperienced farmers, but a professional army of warriors.” Hasduman the oldest responded to the youngest.

“Ahhh…how could I be so naďve.” Belisarius said.

“Your young. It’s the disease of the youth. Heh.” Joked Cornelius.

“Just because I’m the youngest, does not entail that I am young.” Belisarius responded with the same sense of humor, “Never would I have figured that even after long years I would still be called young Belisarius.”

The riders laughed with the scent of nostalgia.

“Shhh. It is time.” Fornalin commanded.

As they neared the fort, the doors opened and out came the commander with his armed escort. Fornalin halted and waited for the Russians to meet them. Finally, they halted but ten yards away.

“Who are you?” Kukov demanded.

“You are quite hasty, and rude. I am Fornalin, Captain of the Immortals. Do you forget the most fearsome fighters and artists of war? Did you think they perished along with the kingdom of Persia? For many Russians have thought so, and they are dead because of it.” Fornalin said with the utmost confidence. Now he displayed a man of authority and power, of nobility and might. As if by his word the world would crumble if he so ordered it.

“Ha. Am I to truly believe that? There is no more Immortals…”

“THERE IS! And if you are as stupid as your comrades, then you too shall die by the will of the Immortals. I have twenty-five hundred under my command now, and they seek vengeance. They thirst for the blood of the tyrants who massacred innocent Persians for far too long! I barely hold them back by a thread. If you do not surrender…they WILL take this fort, and torture every last man to death, so that you may pay for the deaths of so many with the pain of your lives. Russian rule is over! Surrender and we will ransom you all back to Russia, you will live your pathetic lives in your own rotten fields.” Fornalin stared at Kukov with an unrelenting look of rage. Kukov effortlessly tried to interrupt him during his small talk but his will shattered and too weak to overcome the booming voice of the Immortal.

“You will kill us all if we surrender. Either way we die, might as well die fighting than die on our knees.” Kukov responded, he gave effort to respond in the same booming voice of Fornalin but only sounded like a frightened drunkard.

“My men do not murder the unarmed. Immortals have honor, unlike you fools! They will rather receive the gold of ransom than the rotten unworthy Russian blood spilled on their armor. But if you stubbornly want to fight a battle you can not win, then you only feed their fury to an extent that not even I could contain. If you wish to see your hideous wives again, then the only way you will be found on this path is to lay down your arms and surrender.” Fornalin said in a calmer, gentler, and straight to the point manner. He understood the natures of man. Begin with showing them their hopeless doom, then, as though reluctant, let them know they have hope if they cooperate. Of course, such an approach would only work on a weak minded commander.

Kukov thought for a moment. He always remembered the legendary Immortals having a code of honor. And he did not want to die in a nameless battle nobody would ever even care to remember.

If there were truly 2,500 Immortals out there, how can my outnumbered troops fend them off? They are not half as trained as they, nor as disciplined. How could I have misjudged them? Mistaken them for rebel peasants?! These men look more powerful than the Russian Royal Guard themselves! Much less the Cossacks! Even their weapons look as though they surpass our own, He continued to think , …but this is Fort Trilo, one of the most well-defended fortresses in the world. Even Immortals couldn’t breach it’s walls…or could they?

He looked at Fornalin, the man was determined and unrelenting.

“I must have time to think over my position.” He finally told Fornalin, after such an unusual pause.

“You have less than one hour. After such time, whether you wish to surrender or not, my men will attack.” He then turned and he and his company galloped off.

-----------------

Within thirty minutes, the signal for surrender was sounded throughout the walls of Fort Trilo…

Last edited by Easthaven I; February 25, 2003 at 22:07.
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Old January 19, 2003, 17:59   #69
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Excellent work! This is very cool.

Cows... hahaha!

Quote:
"If you wish to see your hideous wives again, then the only way you will be found on this path is to lay down your arms and surrender.”
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Old January 19, 2003, 18:38   #70
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Yes excellent stuff Easthaven
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Old January 19, 2003, 18:50   #71
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Old January 19, 2003, 19:02   #72
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Wow..... great stuff ... and in your honor
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Old January 19, 2003, 20:41   #73
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Cool. Thanks fellers. Your posts are the whip that keeps me writing. whoopish!

Guitarist, I knew somebody would notice that hideous wives thing, lol.
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Old January 20, 2003, 03:13   #74
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So you like whips eh ?
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Old January 20, 2003, 11:57   #75
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...
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Old January 20, 2003, 12:16   #76
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Quote:
Originally posted by TheGuitarist
...
Now look what you've done! Tom's fainted.

* Vovansim runs off for a glass of cold water

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Old January 20, 2003, 13:28   #77
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Is Tom okay ? has any body heard from him since he fainted ?
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Old January 20, 2003, 15:03   #78
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Groggle...
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Old February 3, 2003, 23:58   #79
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Lands of Darkness
Base of Operations…Secured.
April 10th 1468AD
Fort Trilo

“Men. We have succeeded where even I deemed it most difficult and costly. Yet, you performed magnificently and so costly it wasn’t.” Fornalin paced around the room, his commanders situated about the den. Belisarius and Hasduman leaned by the fireplace, Cornelius sat at the table of maps and the others were situated likewise listening to Fornalin speak.

“We have established our base of operations, and now is time to consolidate our new gains and begin to establish communication throughout all of West Persia. And it is time for recruitment.” He stopped by the window and looked out, hands behind his back. “Fort Trilo will be our center, it will be our headquarters. And the city of Tarsus shall be our second, in case the fall of this Fort is imminent. For this whole year, we will harvest the wheat, recruit troops, train, drill and march until our soldiers sweat blood. Then in winter we shall rest. The Russians will not attack this season I am sure. But they will come next spring, and we will wait for them past the Ergili Mountains. Where we shall engage them and…defeat them. We must defeat and destroy that army.” He turned from the window and to his men. “We must show we are capable. If we achieve a decisive victory then it will aid our efforts in wooing nobles in all of Persia as well as Carthage, Gaul, and the city-state of Thebes. And the morale of our troops will increase tenfold.”

“When shall we take Persepolis?” asked Belisarius.

“After we defeat the Russians in this decisive battle, we will follow up and march on Persepolis. Is that right, Overvinna?” Answered Lord Cornelius.

“Yes.” Fornalin answered.

“And what shall we do with the Russian prisoners? There are 1200 of them, it is too dangerous holding them when they outnumber our current army 3 to 1.” Hasduman said.

“Yes…we must get rid of this burden. Execute the officers and every fifth man. Send half to the prison of Tarsus and give the other half as slaves throughout the countryside. Keep Commander Kukov as a prisoner here. We might need information from him later.” Fornalin answered.

The others nodded in agreement.

“Also, begin sending out recruiters to recruit all able men from 16 years of age and beyond. Volunteers for now. Also order all blacksmiths and carpenters to begin constructing weapons and armor if they have not already done so. Cornelius, how many horses do we have from the Russians?” He asked. He walked towards the main table and sat at the head of it.

“We have acquired 500 horses in the stables. We also have equipment for up to 3,000 men. But that is just in Fort Trilo. In Aleppo, we’ve captured equipment for up to 1,700 men. Pasargardae had equipment for up to 2,500 men and Tarsus had equipment for 800.” Cornelius shuffled through more papers. “And yes…Fort Medes had enough for 2,000. Most of the equipment is light, a third of it for heavy infantry. Lots of missile weapons as well. In total, from the Russians we have 2,000 horses and enough equipment for 10,000 men. But of course these are scattered throughout five different places, I recommend sending men to bring these supplies here.”

Fornalin listened intently to what materials he had to work with.

“Good. Get that done, Cornelius. Also, send out scouts to report on any activities throughout Persia. And send embassies to Rome, Carthage, Greece, and Gaul to discuss their positions in this war. And send envoys to every noble in Persia so that we may see where their loyalties lie. Tell them the Immortals have returned.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

He sat thinking on any gaps he might have left open. Mistakes in an already difficult war were not acceptable.

“I can not emphasize enough on how quickly we need to raise our army. For we need to train them once we have them. Both as horsemen and as swordsmen. And they need to be good. The Russians will most likely outnumber us, so we must outclass them in both training and spirit to overcome our weakness in numbers.” He said urgently, being sure his generals knew the importance.

They nodded.

“And Phyllicus.” He said to the general sitting to his right. “You are a fantastic diplomat, gifted with a talent of persuasion. Go to Thebes. Befriend them, and when the time comes make certain they are with us.”

“Yes my lord. As you wish.” Phyllicus responded.

Just then Philip entered the room.

“Lord Fornalin. Your generals have returned from their scouting. Marion, Otto, Croesus, and Datis. They’ve just arrived…” Just as he said that the four Immortal generals entered the room.

Fornalin was pleased. Now only one of his fourteen Elite Immortals was not present. Having his best Generals present gave him confidence.


---------------
After he debriefed the newly arrived, he dismissed them to their recruiting and training. Only Cornelius remained in the room with him.

“Lord Cornelius, any word from my wife and child?” He asked.

“I’m afraid not. The party I sent to retrieve them did not return, nor did they send any word of their situation.” He reluctantly said. Cornelius was afraid that his friend’s family might hamper his decision-making. He prayed Fornalin’s family was safe, for if they weren’t he did not know how Fornalin would react.

Fornalin sighed and a foreboding overtook his heart.

“Cornelius, I’m putting you in command until I return…” Cornelius sighed in expectation, he knew his friend’s love for his son and that beautiful woman was too much to keep him from them. “…I am going to my home and personally retrieving my wife and son. They should have been here by now.”

“Yes, Fornalin. But are you sure that is wise? Now, is when your army needs you…”

“They need me when we are at battle. They can make do with my absence for now. I will return in plenty of time to partake in the training. Do not argue with me, Cornelius. Let me do what I must do.”

Cornelius nodded and stepped aside as Fornalin walked out. He stood there in silence for a moment. Then he walked to the window. He searched and finally found Fornalin, mounted on his stallion. He saw the gates open…as the heir to the throne of Persia rode through and away…

“May your family be safe, my friend…” He whispered…
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Old February 4, 2003, 00:01   #80
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Lands of Darkness
Omen of Despair
April 20th 1468AD
The forests of Rock Mountain

Fornalin galloped through the forest, his steed obediently marching on, knowing instinctively where it was and where it was going.

Fornalin thought about his family the whole way. His thoughts and feelings were unrestrained, open to panic and anxiety. He left the responsibilities of Persia with Lord Cornelius, his sworn brother, therefore he felt he could let loose his thoughts knowing the war was in good hands.

He wondered and thought up many scenarios explaining why his family wasn’t retrieved and why the party sent had sent back no word. He tried desperately to avoid the most worst-case scenarios, but it was in his nature to accept all possibilities.


-------------------------
What he did not know was that one of his possible explanations was true. The party sent to retrieve his family accidentally ran into a company of Russian soldiers. They were ambushed and killed, thus explaining their disappearance. His wife never saw them nor knew of their existence, for they were ambushed on the outskirts of the forest in mid-March. Four of those men were captured. Three of them died from torture, carrying their secret to their grave. But one survived the tortures. The one finally divulged the information so desperately wanted. On April 15th, the Russians knew everything. The one told them about the Immortals and its leader, the infamous General Fornalin…and his family.
--------------------------

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


April 21st 1468AD 9:00 a.m.

Fornalin galloped on. He recognized his surroundings with utmost detail, and knew that he was close to his home…to his family.

Then, he heard the most feared sound he could imagine. A sound that would haunt his dreams for years to come. A sound that nearly destroyed his spirits and made him wont death.

He heard the scream of a woman.

His darkest fear took form in his mind, and engulfed his soul.

With the outburst of intense fury coated in desperation, he kicked his horse furiously and cried for it to make haste. His white steed, sensing his master’s discomfort and worry, heeded the order and sped forward with all its might. It jumped over knolls, rocks, and tree roots. Dodging in and out of trees, with the swiftness of a winter breeze. Fornalin ducked branches with the keenest reflexes and he paid no heed to the scratches and cuts the treacherous wilderness imposed on him.

Another scream pierced the air; another screamed pierced his heart.

“Hurry, Cyrus”, His eyes were lidless, “make haste! My family needs me!”

Then, he saw his house through the trees as he neared the clearing. Outside there were horses grazing. And five men stood in the garden.

Fornalin upon his steed, erupted from the forests with the speed of light. He galloped straight for the five men. One finally looked up, startled at the sudden white streak heading towards him.

Fornalin pulled a dagger from his cloak and threw it, striking the man through the throat. Immediately he pulled out a throwing ax from the saddle and launched it at another. The ax flipped wildly through the air until finally stopped by a man’s chest as it stuck to it like a dart to a dartboard. The white stallion, Cyrus, jumped the picket fence and landed on a third Russian soldier. Trampling him beneath its hooves, neighing wildly with as much fury as its master. Fornalin unsheathed his sword, pivoted his horses and struck at another surprised trespasser. Slashing the man with one strike, he dismounted and charged at the last man, yelling like a madman. The frightened Russian tried to run but Fornalin was too quick. He slashed the man’s back, and began chopping him to pieces as he countlessly struck at the downed man.

“YOU COME TO MY HOME! YOU ENDANGER MY WIFE…MY SON!!!” He yelled in fury.

He charged into the home after hearing another scream and the sounds of wrecking furniture.

Everything was in shambles, as if a great struggle had taken place. Fornalin saw one dead Russian on the floor in the hall as he rushed into room after room. Witnessing more destroyed furniture.

Finally, he burst into his and his wife’s bedroom. His wife was on the bed, she held a sword above her holding a Russian man’s sword at bay. The man turned to Fornalin, distracted. Natalya kicked the man in the groin, making him recoil. Natalya, with much strain and with a moan, swung her sword and beheaded the Russian man, whom had his pants half down.

He fell lifelessly onto the floor, accompanied by five other dead Russians.

Natalya dropped her bloodstained sword and fell back onto the bed; her white dress was soaked in blood in the center of her upper body.

He began towards her, but another Russian appeared behind him from the doorway. He ducked the Russian’s initial swing and Fornalin chopped the Russian’s right leg off. And with another strike he thrusted his sword into the downed man’s chest.

He quickly turned and ran to his wife. He laid her properly on the bed and leaned over her. She shivered and looked at Fornalin with much love. Tears began forming in his eyes as he caressed her. He desperately applied pressure to her wound and caressed her face, removing her hair from her chin and lips.

Natalya shivered again, fighting against death…forcing death away.

“I’m so sorry, Natalya…I’m so…” Fornalin began to weep.

Natalya lifted her hand to his cheek.

“It isn’t your fault, Fornalin. More Russians are on the way, my love. Your son still needs you, and Persia still needs you. Go save them both.” She said, a tear rolled down the side of her temple and got lost in her silky dark brown hair.

“I will not leave you here…”

“Please, we will meet again. I promise, for we were meant for each other…someday we will be back together. But for now you are of much importance to many souls. Save our son, Fornalin. Please save our son, and together save Persia. Leave me here to die in my home…” again she shivered.

“How could such a hopeful world…destroy such beauty…destroy its only light…” he cried, weeping uncontrollably.

“It is not for us to judge who lives and who dies and for what. It happens…live with the duty of doing good…and doing good means saving lives when you can and preventing evil from ruling over the innocent. I love you, Fornalin. Now please save our son…” she cried.

He held her hand against his cheek.

“I will my…

Her eyes rolled back as her lids closed. So quietly and innocently…as if an angel was sleeping.

He buried his head in her neck as he cried profusely for a moment, her skin was so soft and warm…so uncorrupted. Then realizing he still had a son, he leapt from the bed and ran out of the room, grabbing his sword on the way.

He ran to the backyard. He looked about the field of the high grass but could not see anything. He ran through it searching.

“Elias!!!…Elias!!!”

Then he saw a depression in the high grass and he ran to it.

He halted immediately as he saw a black feathered arrow protruding upward. He stepped closer. He saw his son face down in the ground…a black feathered arrow protruding from his back.

His sword fell from his hands and he dropped to his knees in an abyss of despair. Total blackness filled his heart. He gathered his dead son in his arms and rocked back and forth as he wept rivers. The innocent boy held a blank expression as he lay in his father’s arms. Young Elias was no more.

“I’m sorry, my son…I should have never left…why…”He cried.

His soul became as dark as coal. His only light in his world of darkness was completely extinguished. Nothing to live for.

Then from his house he heard disturbance. He turned and saw a dozen Russians staring at him from his home.

Nothing to live for…but revenge.

He kissed his son on the forehead and laid him gently down on his side.

“I will avenge you and your mother, my son. Forgive me. And may I pay for this tragedy. I am sorry, Elias.” He then stood and sheathed his sword. He then turned and ran, tears still falling from his face.

The Russians came after him. But soon lost him in the woods…
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Old February 4, 2003, 00:09   #81
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Feedback wanted, please. Tell me what you like, dislike. What you hope to see, what you hope not to see, etc. etc.

Any kind of criticism or compliments appreciated.

I think I might be steering off from the original writing style from the beginning, and I'm kind of steering away from the characters Philip and Pavil. But i'm not so sure.

Any kind of feedback totally welcomed. Even obsene smilies! All is welcomed.

Thank you.
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Old February 4, 2003, 00:11   #82
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Lol, I just saw the whips thing...hehe, funny.

Bring out the whips!!! whoopish!
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Old February 4, 2003, 13:34   #83
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East you probably have steered away from your intended story line but I think that is only natural in the evolution of any story.

There is truly nothing I can find fault with in this piece it is sheer brilliance. Of cause me being an old sentimental fool I was upset that the kid and the wife got killed but you wrote it beautifully and after all this story is definitely not a comedy.

No its a classic of immense proportions

Please keep it coming I love it and I feel inspired by it.
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Old February 4, 2003, 18:49   #84
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yeeeah baby.

Very good feedback. Thanks, man.
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Old February 4, 2003, 20:40   #85
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I'm so glad you're continuing this piece.

This is truly an epic. Your writing style is so fluid that you can switch from character to character and from setting to setting without problem.

You have a keen grasp of what makes a good plot. Convincing dialogue and realistic storytelling keep the reader riveted. The combat is above average and the entire premise of the story draws me in completely.

Keep it up, I'm anxious to see the glorious conclusion.
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Old February 4, 2003, 20:53   #86
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Well, after such exhaustive feedback, I have only to say that it is a great piece. Looking forward to more...
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Old February 4, 2003, 21:49   #87
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whoohoo. I did not expect such positive feedback. Thank you all very much, greatly appreciated.

Epic..heh...very cool.

I have a few surprises in store...mwahahahaha. If your observant, you'll see it.

Anyways, keep in tuned....
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Old February 13, 2003, 19:07   #88
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And like just when can we expect to see these surprises you promised us whoopish....
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Old February 15, 2003, 19:26   #89
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I can see its going to take more than just one crack of the whip to get you writing my friend.

Whoopish, whoopish, whoopish, there now is that better. Please give us some more.
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Old February 22, 2003, 00:03   #90
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Lands of Darkness
OOC: sorry. The whipping knocked me out...
===================

Dark Abyss
March 23rd, 1468AD

The Russian soldiers had left. After chasing and searching for Fornalin for over twenty-four hours in the wood, they had finally given up and left, taking with them any treasures they had plundered from the house of Varha.

Fornalin returned, following the rising smoke. He arrived at the clearing and stood in silence as he watched the smoke rise from the ashes of his once lovely home. Only a wall still stood, however unstable. Not even his work shack existed. His horses were all gone as well.

He finally began to move and started walking towards the ashes. Then, he came upon his dead son…still lying in an endless sleep. He stood above the boy, and silently stared in sorrow. Then a gleam of light caught his eye.

It was the silver ring on the boy’s finger…the ring of the Kings of Persia…the Royal House of Varha.

He knelt and slowly removed it. It gleamed with an undying shine, uncorrupted to its very core. He then slid it onto his forefinger and stood.

-------------------

A few hours past as dusk approached. Fornalin, with a bead of sweat rolling down his brow, stood above the grave. He walked to pick up a black marble stone lying a few feet away. He then carried it back and placed it upon the head of his son’s grave.

He then turned and walked towards the pile of rubble and ash that was once his home. He silently wept as he thought of his wife lying in peace as the infidels set her aflame.

“I am so sorry, my love…”He whispered. Dark shadows hung low under each eye. Those hollow eyes were darker than they have ever been. Before, one could see at least a glint or sparkle in those deep eyes. But now, all light was extinguished and nothing but a deep dark abyss could one witness when you looked into them. His heart and will was no more…

Last edited by Easthaven I; February 25, 2003 at 22:04.
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