NationStates Jolt Archive

(ooc: This has to do with Guffingford's "The City of Thieves and Liars" RP.)

The small scouting group continued making their way along the foothills, they had been out here since yesterday. Chief Fenski had ordered them to head to the mountains north of the Slovite valley and explore the land. The explorers had been very puzzled at this request; the Slovites were very isolationist people and seldomly left their valley. Apparently the chief was being plagued by terrible dreams at night, dreams that left him restless and worried. He explained that in his dreams each night he saw tall, strong men approaching Slovi from the north, coming to destroy the valley. The scouts were to go as far north as they could and uncover the mystery of the dreams, see if there was any civilization in the land beyond.

Himgar put the leather pouch to his mouth and took a sip of water. The hot sun was not helping his exhaustion in the least. He felt like a fool, he had been sent out here to lead a scouting expedition on the basis of a dream. His party consisted of seven other men, Slovite warriors. They had been equipped lightly, enough food and drink for a few days, blankets, and battleaxes. They would reach the mountains in an hour or two, depending on their speed. Himgar struggled on, ignoring the heat and the small insects biting at his bare legs.

***

Himgar had been leading the party, he was a few steps in front of the others. He smashed through a large clump of hedges and stopped dead in his tracks. In front of him was a large stone gate, brightly colored banners streaming down the walls. It appeared that Chief Fenski had been right...

It had been a long day... Ardus thought... one of those days of little merchantile traffic and not even a decent woman to oggle...

He stared up at the sky... and brushed away a bloodfly as it settled on his helmeted brow... he rested his hand on the hardened steel sword on his hip...

'I wonder if Demitrius will be up for another game of Bones after my taking his whore as payment last night...' he thought to himself...

Suddenly there was a rustle of bushes near the woods some way opposite the gate... that wasn't an animal... instead Ardus saw a tall but powerful looking hairy man... more a barbarian than anything else...

'Hello there' he called out in Mazalan 'What do you want here?'

He knew the creature was probably too primitive to understand... but you always had to ask... the other guards had come stumbling out the guard block a little after his first words had come out. They had guessed what was going on...

Himgar had not noticed the guards until one of them called out to him. He did not understand what the man had said to him but he gripped his battleaxe and stood his ground all the same. Himgar watched as almost two-score of the soldiers made themselves visible. The foreign men wore armor and carried steel swords and shields. They were obviously more advanced than the Slovites who carried flint-bladed axes and were draped in animal furs. If it came down to violence Himgar knew his men would not survive.

He tried to communicate with the soldiers. "Rarga prag uni alva targo duna do?" he called out.

Ardus stood his ground on the parapet... he saw others taking position and picking up their longbows and others their composite bows... they all had hands close to the clumps of arrows hidden under the walls in their large leather bags. Despite the Barbicans and soldiers ornate appearence, they were an effective stopping force... there were another 170 men beyond in the courtyard, barracks, inner citadel and out buildings. A rider had already probably been dispatched to the passes main citadel some two miles away for a skilled interpreter.

He saw the man take a defiant stance... he had already guessed where there was one there were many... the man called out in some barbaric language it was nothing like the usual traffic nor dialects...

'They must be a band from somewhere far South for this to be...' he thought to himself.

'We mean you no harm, do not attack and we will not be forced to kill you or any who accompany you. ' he shouted... he waved his arms disarming to indicate they meant no harm to the Barbarians...

Rather unfortunately just then a caravan from the Hgrovian Republic arrived obviously carrying valuable silks and expensive jewelry for the Empress and other noble ladies to peruse at their leisure... the caravan consisted of 3 wagons... with a driver to each... as well as an open carriage in which a fat Merchant was seated in dark green silks chatting to a young girl of no more than 13 years of age... probably his newly married wife... they were guarded by 8 Caravan guards most of these were just show offs and criminals turned Mercanery with little really useful equipment other than their steel weapons and hardened leather jackets

Things could get very messy now...

The Slovites took their attention off of the soldiers as they spotted wagons approaching. Himgar pulled back out of the bushes and whispered something to his men. As the seven barbarians began getting into position Himgar popped through the bushes and attempted to keep the guards distracted. He waved his arms and yelled out in his language, hoping that they would keep their eyes on him.

When the wagons got close enough the seven men charged, swinging their battleaxes at the caravan guards. They were caught off guard as the Slovites had been hiding behind the hedges. Half of the caravan guards were killed instantly, a swift chop to the throat had taken care of them. The remaining four were putting up a good fight but then came Himgar. The burly barbarian broke one of the guard's noses before burying his axe in the chest of another.

The two remaining guards would be short work before the Slovites took control of the wagons and took the merchants hostage.

Ardus shouted loudly as the caravan was attacked, the warning horn was sounded... it's dull vibrations echoing round the valley... you could hear men quickly preparing for war grabbing swords, buckling armour, stringing bows...

The poor merchant looked terrified under his triple chins and heavy silks. His child bride was shrieking high into the air... the wagons and carriage tried to make a bolt for the gate...

'No time for personal preference now' thought Ardus...

'Pick out your targets' he yelled

Two seconds later he yelled again 'Fire'

Thirty well made arrows sped away like angry bee's towards the barbarians...

They dared to fight a peaceful trader at the gates of Mazalan... they would learn the Mazalan were not to be trifled with...

******************

Around this time Hgrovia, Capital of the Hgrovian Republic a Priest of Om sat doing his daily reading of a duck's entrails... suddenly had something rare... an actual vision...

He saw the Mazalan Horse warriors riding out in their thousands perhaps tens of thousands, he saw much war, pain, suffering and untold numbers of dead... The Horsemasters would be marching and wo betide any nation that got in between them and their wrath...

The man fled to made a report to the Senate... they needed to know... the Mazalan hadn't marched for one hundred years... but the last time they had the world had been engulfed in the Wars of the Gods.

Himgar gasped as an arrow pierced the skin of his upper back near his shoulder. He spat and leapt aboard one of the wagons, assuming the position of driver. Two younger men, Garro and Trand, climbed on behind him quickly, lying flat as to avoid arrows. Himgar hit the horse harshly on the back leg, making it whinny and start to move, he directed it around and the wagon began to move quickly south. He attempted to move it behind the large hedges to stay in cover.

"Esna falto gor grano salar. Eno hes illa!" Himgar yelled at his fellow barbarians, telling them to man a wagon and follow him.

As he peered behind him he could see a fellow Slovite, Leevo, on the ground, his blood staining the grass. Then he saw the carriage with the fat merchant come into view, mounted by three Slovites. Arrows whizzed everywhere but the natural cover did well and left the surviving barbarians unharmed.

Two Slovites had died, shot down by the arrows of the foreign men. Two others had been badly wounded but would be healed when they reached Slovi. Soon enough the wagons were out of distance of the soldier's bows, they were making good distance and speed.

When they reached the valley Himgar would have to explain everything to Chief Fenski. It seemed that the Slovites would have to go to war..

Ardus spat under his breath;

'In the Emperor's name those barbarians are going to pay...'

'Saddle up the horses, 2nd Company come be ready to move.' he barked.

'Yes, Captain' came the reply.

It would take half an hour for the men to be fully provisioned and ready. Already a rider had been sent for the sending of an additional company to replace the 100 men being taken by Ardus in pursuit.

*Half an hour later*

The huge guilded wooden doors opened, as they opened to a point, terrific warhorses rode out their riders armour and weaponry glinting... not to mention the proud looks in horse's eyes. These were Mazalan warhorses widely regarded as the finest in the world... The column began to gallop after the rather obvious cart tracks... they would recover their loss, honour demanded it.

Himgar dug his feet into the horse's sides, making it go faster. They needed to reach the valley as fast as they could, there was no doubt that the foreigners would give chase after the barbarians. He looked behind him and saw the other wagon a feet meters behind him. He tried to stay calm, he could not see anything behind them in his field of view but he knew they would come...

Ardus and his company continued riding... they had been doing so for several hours now. Their scouts had reported that the Barbarians were enroute to Tarantian occupied areas.

'Those Tarantian bastards are going to feel Mazalan cold steel for their treachery' Ardus thought to himself.

His company continued their thunderous pursuit of the Barbarians and the captured Hgorvian merchant couple.

Himgar was nervous now, he did not recognize any of the surrounding land. It was certain that they had not come this way; they were lost.

As the barbarians continued riding they unknowingly entered Tarantian lands, making their way closer to the main settlements.

Himgar brought the horse to a stop and dismounted from the wagon. The barbarians in the other wagon did the same and walked towards him. Flimi, a young man with a long brown beard began to question the idea of stopping, suggesting that the foreigners would find them.

"Fras napo tan dorchio! Waz budum top nesp klass plakor!" he exclaimed.

Himgar snarled at him and began yelling back, "Varun! Varun doa fo usta vor talgat kepul guchar!" They needed to find out where they were and redirect themselves back to Slovi.

Flimi shut his mouth and stepped back, he was being foolish while his leader was being right.

"Nas doa fo reti jill vor bump," said Himgar.

The barbarians agreed and began to traverse a tall hill, they would try to find the proper direction and get back to the valley.

A scout turned back to inform Ardus they were entering Tarantian lands... Ardus ordered one of his men back to Mazalan in order to tell the others of the Tarantian assault on their trading interests. This would not go unpunished by the Mazalan who despised the Tarantians for their lack of honour and generallly be Tarantian.

Ardus led his forces into Tarantian lands after the obviously Tarantian inspired barbarians...

Henry Pettibone loathed these patrols, he was a Praetorian Guardsman, not a mere soldier, in fact, this patrol would count as militia work but he understood the understood the importance of keeping the border safe, those devils from Mazalan weren't going to charge at a one-hundred-and-forty-nine Tarantian led by a Praetorian Guardsman.

Henry kept walking, slowly beginning to boil under his gleaming breastplate, he fiddled with his flintlock and checked his elephant gun while walking and the day continued to drag on without incident. Until a yell came. Henry turned around and looked for the source of the yell through the forest of green jerkins and beige trousers, quickly finding it as a soldier jumping up and down, screaming, pointing to his left, where a large cloud dust was coming.

"Mazalan devils mounted on horse! MAZALAN DEVILS MOUNTED ON HORSE!"

A few seconds later and Henry heard the thunder of hooves; he leapt to attention, unlimbered his elephant gun and roared.

"Form a four-rank line! FOUR RANKS DEEP!"

Within about twenty seconds of pure panic, the large patrol had turned into a four rank deep line, rifles down, facing the direction of the Mazalan soldiers, borne aloft by their mighty warhorses, carved from muscle and war, the warhorses of Mazalan were legendary.

The soldiers were panicked, their one-shot rifles wouldn't get enough shots off quick enough to bring down all of the horse, after that, it would be a melee of flintlocks and blades.

Sweat began to bead on Henry's brow, two intense green eyes were aimed down the barrel, strawberry blonde hair had lost it's calm look and was ruffled, mirroring the haphazard panic of the noble Henry who had to keep a good face on everything, he made his way along the front of the first rank until he reached the middle, he then lowered his elephant gun from his eye and called out.

"Halt or shall be fired upon by the Tarantian army, we fear you not, devils of Mazalan!"

Ardus heard the call and rode round the corner at the head of the column to see a company of one hundred and fifty Tarantian Infantry led by a stuffy looking boy, who was probably a pathetic in bred Tarantian noble.

'His men knew what to do already, they split into three groups. Twenty five on the left, twenty five on the right and fourty-nine with Ardus in the Centre. The two groups on the flanks drew their composite bows and centre group drew long shiny swords and axes.

Ardus spat;

You dare interfere with us, you Praetorian dog. We are searching for those Barbarian spies you had attack a neutral Hgrovian Merchant in front of our gate. You will hand them over to us, or you feel the wrath of the Mazalan don't forget the last time you felt our wrath Praetorian.

"You're pathetic words don't scare me you hideous dog, the last time we felt your wrath was when we were under equipped and we didn't have such high quality weapons.

And to mention, stop spitting your lies about barbarians when you know full well that they are your own, you probably mugged the poor Hgrovian for his goods and supplies."

Henry shot the words with venom as he held up a clenched his fist, with a huge shuffling, one-hundred-and-forty-nine rifles were shouldered, Henry need only give the word to send bullets racing in the Mazalan's direction.

Ardus just grinned.

Oh, so you're going to bring us all down with your pathetic rifles are you? Don't forget what we do to Tarantians, who don't surrender first.

He made a small series of gestures over his breastplate. It indicated a practice the Mazalans had adopted two hundred years ago when they first fought the Tarantians, it was a policy of terror. Any Tarantian who would not submit to Mazalan authority was to have his chest slit open and his organs removed slowly before his eyes after being castrated and being forced to eat/choke down their own genitials. This had long been used by Tarantian housewives as a way of getting naughtly children to sleep... but it was based solely on the experience of the Mazalan and their cruel methods in war.

Now, Praetorian we suggust you and your men surrender or hand over to us the Barbarian Bandits you seek to protect. The Emperor will not suffer Tarantian disobediance again.

Ardus knew full well that in an instant there would be at least thirty dead Tarantians from the well aimed bows of his Legionnaires. He could also hear the impatient stamping of the warhorses they wanted to feel Tarantian blood and cracking bones beneath their hooves. Some of his warriors had already began to work up their bloodlust... he knew this was why the Mazalan were one of the more feared powers in the region along with the Tarantian Musket men.

Henry was enraged by now, the audacity of these scumbloods - to come into Tarantian land - and demand that a Praetorian Guardsman to surrender! Henry had had enough, he didn't have to take this kind of tripe from dogs like these, he cocked his elephant gun and lowered it once more before raising his free hand again, still in the clenched fist but now with the index finger pointing upwards.

The rattle of steel and wood came from down line as guns were cocked.

"I invite you to charge because you if you aren't, go back to Mazalan and sodomize the horses you prize so much."

OOC: Feel free to attack but please RP them STARTING to charge, not actually getting to me, I'd like to RP that part.

The barbarians had reached the top of the high hill, it had taken time and energy but they had made it. From there they could see far around them, they saw a village to the east but they did not know which direction was their home.

"Flem illi vor torna salpoto madri? Sal vor pet." said the young man Garro.

Himgar nodded, "Palto."

They sat down on the soft grass for a few minutes, resting while they could. Himgar finally stood up and the barbarians followed. Taking hold of the horses reins, they led the beasts down the hill. The plan was to continue east to the village and try to find out where they were.

If only they knew what trouble they were getting in to...

Ardus grinned...

You Tarantians never learn... do you? The Emperor will have you impaled slowly through your rear until the spike comes out of your mouth. We will watch and laugh as you beg for mercy in your screams as your wife and children are publically sodomised before you before being burnt alive before your very eyes.

Ardus burst out in a fit of laughter... the entire Mazalan contingent did... they could see the offence in the eyes of the Tarantians...

With the cry 'For the Emperor' the fifty in the centre suddenly lurched forward with axes and swords gleaming at the ready. Fifty precision aimed arrows flew towards the Tarantians, their carriers dropped their bows and drew their weapons also charging towards the Tarantians flanks in order to surround them...

The Tarantians would pay for their disobediance to the Emperor Ardus thought.

The volley of arrows came and slew about no less than thirty Tarantian guardsmen but the Tarantians' resolve was strong, they stayed in line. Henry's heart was pounding inside his chest, wanting to shatter it's cage of bone and leap at the charging horse but he kept a calm exterior and unclenched his fist.

Smoke began to fill the air the rifles went off in rough unison, the dull cracks becoming a crescendo as the second line added their fire to the first line's. A wall of bayonets went up against the mighty warhorses, by now, they were only fifty yards away, Henry couldn't help but grin as he shouldered his elephant gun, he knelt and took square aim at a horse's throat.

A resounding boom echoed through the field, the bullet entered above the base of the neck, travelling through the horse and exiting a gory display before the bullet, after going through the horse, went right into the rider's chin, drilling into his skull and exploding the cranium, sending a massive shower of blood and bone onto the horsemen behind.

The crack of rifle fire continued until the mighty horseman of Mazalan crashed into the unprepared Tarantian line...

The group reached the village, leading the wagons behind them. Townsfolk gave them odd stares as they made their way further into the village, hopefully they could find a chief or king to talk to...

Ardus saw the man two riders from him literally explode as a huge gun fired and hit him. This send blood and gore flying the air giving the entire scene a macarbe look to it... blood and gore went flying as bullets hit and exited through Mazalan Legionnaire and Warhorse flesh...

A stray bullet hit Ardus' helmet ripping the scale helmet from his head causing a slight but bloody wound on this head. The blood streaming for his head mixed with his hair... Ardus look like some berserker... or even stretching it the God of Death himself... some Tarantian a long time ago had speculated the Mazalan were the slaves of the God of Death because of their berserker-like working up before charges...

A quick look around told him that the centre group had been badly affected by the volley of gunfire and that damned big gun... he had lost twenty-six good Mazalans... some would be just wounded and would join the battle on foot in a few minutes. He saw another get hit in the head by a bullet... the mans head came off splattering the ground with brains and gore.

Twenty-two riders and Ardus hit the Tarantian line, swords and axes swinging in arcs... they would make the Tarantians bleed for their fallen honoured brothers in arms. Ardus' armoued gauntlet went down to meet the first man in the line he hit... he picked the man up expertly in one hand... he held him to his face for a fraction of a second long enough to see the man terror stricken face. As Ardus' armoured gloved ripped his throat out the man gurgled something about a wife... Ardus said loudly;

Don't worry i'll have her body before I have her head

He saw the blood flow as the mans ruined neck became obvious... he threw the body onto a nearby upturned bayonet and continued his reign of terror on the Tarantian infantry.

The two other groups continued to swing round the sides to prepare to charge in the flank... they would make contact with the Tarantians flanks in a second...

This was turning into a bloodbath...

Henry was in panic now, he reloaded his elephant gun and sent another shot flying, this time it went into the horse's skull, sending a shard of bone into the rider's eye who fell from his horse, screaming and writhing, hand clutching his blood spattered face while a bayonet fell into rib cage, piercing the heart and allowing him to have a last breath before his eyes went dull.

Swords and axes were swung through the relatively un-armoured ranks, sending slashes of dark crimson flying through the swirling melee, bayonets stabbed and brought down horse and rider alike while Henry roared for the last line to retreat.

The forth line quickly fell back, leaving their comrades enraptured in a bloody melee, screams and the groans of the dying wafted from the swirling hand-to-hand battle...

Henry spat as he unloaded a flintlock round into the face of one of his adversaries, the man toppled from his horse with a yell before Henry plummeted his sabre into the mans neck, Henry ripped the blade out into a bloody display let off another round from his flintlock...

Ardus saw the man who had wielded the big gun that had caused a proud warrior or two to die in a horrid way in the middle of the fighting. He goaded his horse towards the man... the warhorse trampled the dead and the dying Mazalans and Tarantians under it's proud, unfeeling steel shod hooves. Ardus swung his sword, which cut through a nearby Tarantians face with comparative ease showering Ardus and his mount in more blood and gore.

Ardus could see the others from the two flank contingents in the melee now... making their presense felt amongst the Tarantians who were characteristically fighting savagely against the far superior Mazalans in the desperate melee.

Ardus was pleased despite the heavy losses... they were winning this skirmish... he continued on his bloody path towards the scared little boy pretending to be a Tarantian noble...

OOC: Sorry Zarb, I'll give you a good reply tomorrow, okay?

IC: Mr Merrilyn gave the men in furs strange looks, they were obviously crude but they were able to control wagons and horses...when Mr Merrilyn thought about it, he was sure that the wagons were from Hgrovia but then again, these people could well be Hgrovians, he dismissed it without any more thought.

By now, the forth row had retreated to the hill and was setting up in a line formation, the looked down their rifles and drew up targets, none dared fire yet for the risk of hitting their comrades but if any of the horse broke off and made for the men on the hillock...

Henry slashed the forwards legs of a war horse, sending the rider toppling over the poor horses neck, while the rider lost grip of the reins, the horse promptly got up, crying as it ran from the battle, knees bleeding. Henry had a cruel streak in him as he placed an iron-shod greave on the fallen rider's chest. Henry then sheathed his sabre and the put away the flintlock as he unlimbered the mighty elephant gun from his shoulder, he lowered it, the low barrel pointed at the poor man's face - and fired. An explosion of blood and gore spurted outwards; showering the armour Henry in crimson while white flecks of brains trailed off the slippery-blood covered armour of the Praetorian Guardsman.

Henry fumbled another round into his gun limbered it again, throwing the big gun over his shoulder while he pulled out his sabre, Henry turned just in time to see the massive man borne aloft by his warhorse, helmetless and with a bloody gash on his head, the man looked crazed, Henry whipped out his flintlock and send a bullet down a path of trajectory that would end up at the mighty warhorse's right knee...

Ardus toppled forward over his mount into a pile but as he was a trained Mazalan he rolled well. Bouncing into the man who had fired that big gun, and promplty sending him flying into the Tarantian behind him.

Ardus picked up his sword with every intention of finishing off that annoying man and claiming that big gun as his prize. A tarantian who had somehow noticed his commanders plight jumped and slashed at Ardus, who just about blocked the suprise blow. Ardus traded furious sword slashes with the man for the best part of a minute before seeing an opening and slashing the mans throat, which would cause a long and painful death deserved by the Tarantian for interfering with Ardus' killing of that damned Praetorian noble.

The bloodly confrontation between the Mazalans and Tarantians was coming to a close about thirty Mazalans still lived but Ardus was unsure how many Tarantians still lived.

The Emperor would want to hear of these guns and the Tarantians improved training. I think we will need to have Sappers with all patrols to disperse these damned formations.

Henry's head jolted as he flew into the mud, dark red and brown mixing on the dirty palette of his platemail, Henry hurriedly got up, seeing one of his sergeants, Jacob, heroically buying him time, engaged in a furious clatter of swords with the huge man of Mazalan. Henry was a Praetorian Guardsman however, and recovered quickly, he fumbled for his flintlock and saw it was clogged with thick, foul mud, Henry snarled as he holstered the thing and picked up his sabre, clearing it off roughly a hand encompassed in chainmail.

The Praetorian Guardsman turned, making a slow walk towards brutish beast of Mazalan, just as Jacob fell, his throat spewing crimson liquid into the cold evening air. Within seconds, Henry had closed on his opponent and let loose a delicate slash towards the man's right shoulder but the Mazalan scum parried his blow, sending vibrations down Henry's arm to the point of nearly dislodging it from it's socket, Henry made another, more well planned stab towards that spot where the cage of bone gives way to the expanse of vulnerable stomach - where the heart sat.

Ardus grinned as the point sank into his breastplate...

You should know better Praetorian Ardus spat in the mans face...

He promptly headbutted the man, who collapsed with a disfigured nose... the sabre skidding along the blood soaked grass a short crawl away...Ardus grinned again...

Now Praetonian, where were we?

Ardus smashed his long sword down heavily... the Praetorian rolled well and dived to get his blade...

Ardus followed get angrier by the second as the Praetorian alluded him. He smashed through a nearby fight between a Tarantian and a Mazalan burying his hardened boot into the Tarantians crotch leaving his trooper to finish him off.

He was following the Praetorian like a mad wolf... but he managed to get embroiled with helping his other troopers... the Praetorian and what remained of his men now had the chance to slip away...

Henry knew that it was a bad idea to never wear the Praetorian helmet but he always thought it helped keep his men calm, seeing a noble face, from now on, he'd be wearing the helmet he thought as he slashed the exposed neck of a Mazalan fighting a Tarantian, they needed to get out of here, the Mazalan were skilled hand-to-hand fighters, they wouldn't last much longer.

"Back to Tarant! Leave these devils!"

Within minutes, due to clever tactics and the brave men on the hillock luring them into a nearby forest where the cavalry couldn't manoeuvre, the patrol was safely away from the battlefield and headed towards Tarant, after a quick head count, Henry saw that there were no more than forty-three Tarantian soldiers remaining, forty-four including himself, the procession was that of relative silence, a murmur would kick up here and there but everyone was deep in thought for their lost comrades.

While the rest of the unit were engrossed in solemn thoughts of sadness, Henry's own thoughts were that of vengeance and hatred, he so sought to put an elephant gun round into that blasted Mazalan, the unshaven brute was unparalleled in melee combat but if Henry ever got a clear shot...

Ardus walked over the bodies of the fallen, his men had silenced any badly wounded survivors on either side sometime ago. The grass was slick with blood and severed body parts as well as gutted organs.

There were two huge bonfires going one of the proud and honourable Mazalan Warhorses and the other of the fully armoured & armed fallen Mazalan Legionnaires. This was honourable death and ensured the Mazalan warriors and their mounts would feast eternally with the Gods in Valhalla.

The Tarantians were a different story each dead one had it's head removed, these were taken by the Mazalan for the fields of death on the borders of the Empire, where the heads of slain enemies were displayed as a warning to all of the cost of defying the Mazalan Emperor. Their bodies were nailed to the nearby trees to rot and for the crows to eat with rough iron nails, which every Mazalan trooper carried for that purpose. It was a dishonour for those who fought against the Emperor... in the Mazalan's eyes that was total treason... all humanity would bow before the Emperor.

While this was all happening three Tarantians would had either knocked unconcious or suffered mild but not life threatening wounds were being held by a burly Sergeant and a young Legionnaire, whose first taste of blood this had been. They would be taken back to Unta, tortured extensively for information and eventually executed in a diabolical way unless they offered to swear blood oath obediance to the Emperor and serve him for the rest of their days.

Henry, at the head of his column, sighed as the grand city of Tarant came into sight, the grand iron gate framed by mighty brick walls, a horn could be heard and the massive gate of iron began to slowly open, churning and grinding all the way as cogs and pistons worked overtime to get the juggernaught of metal open.

The column finally came into the city, a solemn procession, people looked out of windows with wide eyed fear at the bloodied unit, whispers of "Did the Mazalan get them?" could be heard from the streets, Henry wore a scowl as he made his way through the poorer areas into the noble quarter, dirty streets giving way to wide roads framed by expensive shops and homes.

Henry finally arrived at his destination; the house of the Council, the two guards, with halberds locked to bar entry, stepped aside and gave Henry free passage. The dismayed noble found his way through the labyrinth of stone and arrived at the council chamber, he opened the large double doors and strode in unannounced, a voice came from the long oak table, filled with the council members.

”Well, Henry, I assume your patrol wasn’t the most excellent you’ve been on, judging by your most vile of moods.” Commented Burk Heinz, owner of the booming baked beans industry.

”No, I am afraid it wasn’t the most excellent patrol I’ve been on…sir, perhaps that was because over half of my patrol was slaughtered by the brutes of Mazalan.” Retorted a displayed Henry.

The entire council was taken aback.

”Good heavens lad, do you know of what you speak, you speak of WAR!”

The entire council was ecstatic, excitement filled the chamber, gasps and excited murmurs filled the room.

”Yes uncle, we do speak of war.”

”My lad…how did the battle fare?”

Henry smirked.

“It went excellently, we were forced to retreat at the end but it appears the Mazalan have lost their edge, we took down many of them in not only the volleys…but the melees! Something we always used to fail in, it appears bayonet training has paid off greatly, I myself felled no less that seven of the ignorant brutes.”

”Excellent Henry, you have passed your trial by fire and you will soon be fit to lead a unit of Praetorian Guardsmen.”

”Thank you uncle, for your generosity.”

”You earned it lad, now, allow us to get on, we have much to discuss!”

”Of course uncle.”

Henry turned on his heel and went off to see his darling wife Ophelia, she must be terribly worried about him, she didn’t like him going off, especially on ‘dangerous’ patrols.

The following day, the sounds and smells of industry could be heard from miles away, the ripping down of trees, the bang and clatter of weaponry and armour being forged. Tarant was preparing for war.

The massive steel gates of Unta opened to reveal the Imperial Highway to the Emperors Palace. Ardus left his remaining men to see to informing the Officer-General of the casulities and to see the famalies of those lost and inform them of the bravery of those involved. Also provide them with the pension to fallen warriors provided by the Emperor for his soldiers.

A man greeted Ardus at the gates of the Palace, it had taken Ardus an hour to get there at a canter of his steed. Unta was a massive city, probably the biggest in the known world, it was thronged with Merchants bartering and selling their wares... but all moved out the way for Mazalan warriors. They were feared and honoured for their skill at arms everywhere they went.

Ran into a spot of trouble with the Tarantians, Ardus?

The man said sarcastically.

Yes, Vimes... looks like war again

Ardus replied, slipping down from the saddle and handing the reigns to a nearby slave.

Well, we are predictable I suppose but my spies inform me, they are carrying new guns and are over-confident they can beat us. What do you think Ardus?

Vimes asked.

They are effective and have improved themselves in Melee. We will need to change our tactics a little, Vimes. I will put my suggustions direct to the Emperor

Ardus replied.

He's waiting for you, Ardus

Vimes took Ardus past several sets of guarded death traps guarded manned by Crimson Guard. Each one looked like it could kill thousands of troops before it was overcome... the Mazalan had always been good at making death trap like fortifications. It was almost a hobby for them as a people...

Ardus entered the huge throne room with the throngs of Mazalan Courtiers and nobes that formed the Imperial Court. He saw the young Emperor and Empress seated upon their thrones of solid gold. He bowed at the place where you were supposed to show respect and address the Emperor.

My lord, we pursued a number of Barbarians who attacked a Hgrovian merchant by the East gate. They fled to Tarantian territory, we were then confronted by one hundred and fifty Tarantian Infantry led by a Praetonian. We assaulted them for impeeding our progress, we killed around One hundred of them and took three prisoner by accident. We lost around seventy Legionnaires, my Emperor. I beg to be allowed to commit suicide for this dispicable loss.

Ardus reported.

No, Ardus. You are to be honoured for you and your men's courage. You will shall all recieve the Blood Order for your courage and you Ardus, will recieve a promotion to Commander. You have first hand experience of these weapons, thus you will act as our the man in charge of the further Development of the Mazalan warriors into a force to crush the Tarantians once and for all.

The Emperor replied and Vimes was beaming behind the young Captain.

I will do as you command, my Emperor.

Ardus was totally shocked rigid... the big warrior had not been expecting this...

OOC: Sorry Zarbia, I forgot about you in the last post!

IC: There was a huge amount of panicked murmuring outside the Mayor's house, the Mayor, a Sir Terik, came out of the house wearing a look of curiosity, he was a fat, balding man, dressed in intricate wool, one of the poorer nobles of Tarant but wealthy by a common man's standards.

"Excuse me good sirs, may I ask what your business is here in Bowerstone?" The balding mayor called to the fur clad barbarians.

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

In Tarant, industry was booming, soldiers were drilling and the taverns were full, everything was going a bit mad. Outside the city walls, you could see numerous columns of Tarantian soldiers drilling, make camp, practicing with their rifles and then one could notice the small groups of Praetorian guardsman, practicing with their repeater rifles and elephant guns - which sent fearsome booms echoing around the planes - and the famed Tarantian artillery, the volley guns shredding up their hay targets, cannons churning up earth on the artillery range, all with a background noise of hacking as age old trees were ripped down.

Henry bid his dear Ophelia farewell as set off to find his Praetorian Guardsmen, after exiting the city, he saw how extensive the council's wishes were, endless lines of tents, men were seen drilling everywhere and the roar of gunfire filled the air, Henry also saw one of the Praetorian regiments putting on a demonstration to the lower classes of the Tarantian army, showing them how to perform the Progressive Retreat formation.

The Progressive Retreat formation was an excellent one, it involved soldiers being in evenly spaced lines, after the first line shot, the first line ran to the back, then the second line shot and they ran to the back, then the third line shot, they ran to the back and during the time it took the other three lines to fire in, the first line was loaded and ready to shoot again, meaning the enemy had to keep pushing hard and fast to have any hope of keeping up with the Tarantians, not only that, but the enemy would be taking casualties from disciplined fire all the while.

After a few hours of fruitless searching, Henry finally found his Praetorian Guardsman, standing ramrod straight, elephant guns and repeaters alternating with every man, Henry could tell they were disciplined but he wanted to know how disciplined, he barked at them to perform the "Progressive Retreat" formation and they did so, admirably. Henry smiled, Mazalan would fall.

None of the Slovites could understand what the fat man was saying. Himgar was fed up with these foreigners and their fancy way of talking. He grasped the man harshly by the shoulders and shook him.

"Ganda balu Slovi? Ganda! Ganda balu Slovi?!" he yelled in the man's face. All he wanted to do was get home and report back to Chief Fenski. He hated the foreigners.

The fat man was startled, the intimidating but previously peaceful people had suddenly taken on an aggressive stance, the poor man was horrified, nearly cryin from fright as he tried to scramble out of the huge man's grip.

"Please good sir, do not hurt me, I'm a simple mayor, I mean you no harm!"

By now, a ring of farmers and do-gooders had surrounded the incident, half of them looked ready to fight, brandishing pitch forks and shovels while the other were looking on in terror.

Himgar saw the armed farmers and seized the fat man by the throat, wielding his axe.

"Gor tulvi tabam! HES NAPOLI FARNT!" he screamed at the farmers, pointing at them to stay back. He would kill the mayor if it meant staying alive.

The five other barbarians were holding their weapons at the ready, if the farmers came any closer they would pay.

Some days later, Ardus reported to his new post. Unta rang with the sounds of preparations, the Horse clans were being mobilised this was to be no normal war. This was to be Total War with the Tarantians... a war of annilation... in which many Mazalan would die, but the destruction of Tarant would mean the clearing of the way to massive Mazalan conquests. The Emperors name would be etched into being as the Greatest of the Mazalan Emperors.

New units had been in training for sometime now, new gun armed cavalry known as the Horse Marines, who would allow gunpowder to add to the forces under the Emperor's command.

The Marines and the Sappers were being heavily expanded, smaller versions of the sapper weapons were being issued in small numbers to the normal horse in order to allow the breaking of the Tarantian gun lines.

Mobile Catapults and Ballista's had been constructed to allow more firepower to be brought to the battlefield as well as the introduction of tower shields for the infantry, re-enforced to a point where they could withstand a few of the bullets for the gunpowder weapons at distance.

500 Marines had marched out the previous night under cover of darkness to indirectly strike against the Tarantian outposts and kill Tarantian bandits.

Far and wide Mazalan agents went in search of Mercaneries and bandits... they were preparing for total war and offered much gold and chances for more if Mercanery companies and bands would join them.

OOC: Sorry, perhaps the worst post I've ever done...

*More info will be released about mobile bunkers later on.

IC: The fatman was beginning to sob, pleading with the man to let him go, the farmers took a step back but kept their makeshift weapons at the ready.

All over Tarant, things were changing, the Tarantian army were applying new tactic and "mobile bunkers*" were being developed, the ethereal whispers of a steam tank were beginning to solidify, soldiers were being recruited at a phenonomal rate and the industry was booming.

Himgar was relieved that the farmers had stepped back but he was not leaving without answers.

"Slovi? Tagu don Slovi?" he asked the fat man.

The five barbarians continued holding their weapons tightly, prepared to fight.

The fat noble had not a clue what the fur clad titan was on about, he was desperately trying to scramble away, he tried pleading one last time.

"Please! Take what you want, just don't hurt me!"