NationStates Jolt Archive

(OOC: Well, let's see now. Normally I RP in FT, but I thought since many people do RPs just for the fun of it in ancient tech, I would try to start that up as a respected(and played) RP tech. For those of you who know me and care, yes I will still be doing FT, but I'm gonna branch off and make this fun little AT nation too. Feel free to do the same and join the RP.)

IC:

The sky hung dark as Jupiter made the clowds dark crimson, mourning the deaths of his sons. Darkness shrouded all, dispelled only by the burning flames that engulfed the great city of Saria. For centuries, the great city had sat strong on the coast, protected by high mountains from the back, and the great sea in the front. Apparently Neptune had become displeased with his worshippers, as the sea was violent and swallowed the Sarian fleet, allowing the armies of the allied city states to land and take the beachhead.

The great temple of Jupiter, a mighty structure of stone, marble and ivory, was the last stronghold of the city garrison. Fifty spears, all dressed in red tunics, copper breastplates, greaves, bracers and helmets, and armed with sturdy wooden spears with copper points. They held the stairs of the temple, brave as they were, not yet ready to give up the fight and the city, pressing further into the fray and heat of battle.

Formost amongst them was Domitian of the loud war-cry, who let out a bellow that shook the hearts of men, and dove into the fray, plunging his spear into the neck of Gaditicus, an enemy general. And Solomon, son of Herodotus the Brace, thrust forth with his shaft, driving it home into the belly of an enemy as he took a blow to the chest, spilling his noble blood. And Talean, who thrust his spear into the eye of his Diocletian who faced him, and jumped to the defence of Solomon, who fell to one knee. Fifty to ten thousand, they lost the temple, and the city was lost.

The wine dark seas were calm the morn after as the last bireme of the Sarian city state sailed out of the protected bay, narely escaping the mass of blockading ships that had housed the troops who sacked the city. Neptune had shown pity and allowed the surviving warriors to flee, admiring their courage and skill when defending the temple.

Talean stood at the prow, watching the waves crash against the ship as it plowed through the sea water, salt made his mouth taste dry and he spat dryly into the foaming waters. Only Nestor, Encor and Domitian had escaped the fray, thanking the gods upon the finding of the chained slaves still alive on the galley.

The new land, many miles across the sea from Saria, was a warm place, full of vast prairies of grain, and sandy beaches. The grasslands few, and clinging to the many mountains and hills of the land, and the local kingdom, the Eutracians, controlled with a mix of barbaric and civilised manor. The power of this land would shift, and a new order would rise over the world.

King Taro awoke to the bright sun and singing birds. He looked around at his room, and sighed, enjoying the few minutes before he remembered what he was and what he had to do. Moving to the balcony of his estate house, he looked over the small settlement that he had taken and fought over. Taledon. A small village founded by the legendary hero Talean, who named the city within his honour, and who fought the other Eutracian kingdoms for his little hill top. Three other large estates, and then several houses and a small barracks, that was the town in which he ruled. That was the town that eight years ago he had knocked down the feable wooden palisade and stole from the Eutracian settlers who now called themselves Taledonians and had tried to succeed from the league. That was the town that a mere two months ago he had fought with the two other Kings of Taledon, who use to inhabit the other two villas, and won sole leadership of the sheperd village.

Taro looked behind him as he heard his door open, and dismissed the distraction from the scenarie as he noticed it was but his servant Aureli, who was nothing but a stupid peasant, who knew nothing but how to speak with difficulty and make the bed.

Adorning his white cotton tunic, he drapped a toga around himself and went to meet the day, and continue his hard rule over the populus.

The horses were everywhere. Five thousand of the finest light cavalry in the world, pouring down the lush valleys and shattering streams into a million broken fragments. They rode in no particular formation, but they all followed a savage black dragon banner that twisted in the wind as if alive.

Queen Nyssa Andreyevych was enjoying herself. It was early morning, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. The air was cool and damp, such a joy in these southern climes. So much finer than the cold, northern winters that the Guravii tribesmen had fled a decade ago under the leadership of her father Gustav. Behind her, the sound of hoofbeats reverberated in the valley, filling the air with their savage rhythm. The pickings were good here, and the Guravii Horde was eating well. There was a pall of smoke curling in the horizon behind them, and a town that was no longer a town. Nyssa knew from growing up as a rider in the Horde that sides of still-bloody meat would be hanging from the horses' sides, forage from the livestock that they had butchered in the town.
The horde was eating well, and the dragon banner led the way to Taledon.