NationStates Jolt Archive

The sun sat high in the sky above the vast desert wasteland that was Exponential Algeria, gleaming of the many swords below it. Over three thousand arab tribesman had gathered together outside of this fort, determined to drive these Imperialists from their land, and ban their infidel religion from their sacred ground. The horseman lined the dunes for what seemed like miles around, extending down the horizon for as far as the eye could see, wielding an assortment of weapons, from scimitars and spears to full cannons and rifles. To them, it was only a matter of time before these white invaders would be driven back to their jungle homes.

In the fort...

The four hundred Exponential Legionares had manned their positions along the wall and in along the smaller wall outside. The men outside were already lost souls. It would take a miracle to save them, because once the gates to the fort were closed, the men had no chance to retreat. Those men were the lowest of the Legionares however, most of them prisoners, murderers, rapists, bank robbers, highwaymen, even a few POW's. Each man checked and rechecked the Enfield rifle he held in his hands. Cannon crews along the forts high walls loaded their cannons and waited for the enemy to get within range.

The fort commander, Colonel Faustus Swiftsword, solemnly walked the wall, examining his troops and looking out to the arabs tribesmen assembled before him. "Remember men, don't fire until my order!" he shouted, although there was no need to. The fort was dead quiet, the only sounds an occasional click as a soldier checked to make sure that his weapon was loaded right. The arabs had come from nowhere, seemingly out of the sand. There was no warning. All of the men now knew that this fight would be down to the last man. Each of them had heard stories of past forts, captured in similar surprises. Some men whispered that these tribesmen were not human, rather some kind of phantoms from long lost souls killed during the Exponential crusades, out to get their revenge. Others had stories stranger still, one man saying that they were not men but sand, forming up into these shapes of men, only to go back into sand when it was done.

No matter what they were, every man was determined to survive. And they all knew that the only way to survive was to hold down the fort.

One of the tribesman lifted up his hollowed out buffalo horn, and blew into it,making a sound loud enough to wake the dead. The scene after this however, would sent them back to their graves, as thousands of horsemen began bearing down on the hopelessly outnumbered Legionares. "DON'T FIRE! HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Col. Swiftsword kept yelling as he walked along the wall, getting more nervous by the second. The men on the ground, most laying on their stomachs, others on a knee, waited patiently for the order to open up. The horde was getting every closer.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The cannons sang out in succesion, slamming into the horsemans lines. In return, the arabs launched a volley of their own, sending massive balls of metal hurdling into the sand colored walls of the fort, doing little damage other than aesthetically. The arabs would soon be within rifle range.

No one wants to join my RP?

(could I?)

(could I?)

Of course

bump

OOC: Who can i rp as? like is this charactor? also can you include a brief description of the equipment being used..i want to join..

OOC: Who can i rp as? like is this charactor? also can you include a brief description of the equipment being used..i want to join..

The Legionares are packing Enfield rifles and some basic cannons. The arabs have all sorts of stuff, captured Enfields, muskets, Musketoons, cavalry rifles, sawed off shotguns, spears, swords, bows and arrows, whatever they can find.

You can RP either as a Legionares or as a tribesmen, or if you want you can be a guy back in Exponent, pretty much whoever you want. To make an Exponential name is real easy, first name is Latin, last name is usually just an adjective and a noun put together.

A stranded, exiled, unit of troops that had formal alligience to the Latican Empire/Republic (Depends on the time) and were forced to march into the desert land. As they had marched, the ran into a much larger encampment of Muslims and, since their skin colors were the same, the Muslim invited them in. Resuming to their old trickster way, that had gotten them kicked out of the Imperial/Republic Jimuhn, they played along as they were muslim.

The two hundred, No.3 Mk.1 Lee-Enfield barring Latican exiles formed themselves into rank with the Muslim gorrila army. They had been assigned to help a rather large calvalry attachment assualt an under-manned Exponential fort.

They now layed on the ground, with thier sand-colored uniforms waiting for their turn to advance. Bayonets ready...

One of the tribesman lifted up his hollowed out buffalo horn, and blew into it,making a sound loud enough to wake the dead. The scene after this however, would sent them back to their graves, as thousands of horsemen began bearing down on the hopelessly outnumbered Legionares. "DON'T FIRE! HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Col. Swiftsword kept yelling as he walked along the wall, getting more nervous by the second. The men on the ground, most laying on their stomachs, others on a knee, waited patiently for the order to open up. The horde was getting every closer.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The cannons sang out in succesion, slamming into the horsemans lines. In return, the arabs launched a volley of their own, sending massive balls of metal hurdling into the sand colored walls of the fort, doing little damage other than aesthetically. The arabs would soon be within rifle range.

Sergent Mario Sureshot watched as the artillary slammed into the enemy lines from the ramparts of the fort,

"This is it men! give em' hell!!" He shouted aiming his own rifle..

He looked through the iron sights at an Arab getting closer and closer on horseback,

Closer...closer..got yah

**BANG**

The Arab tumbled off the horse and hit the sand with a thud, mario quickly rebolted and fired again...

"To the last man!!"

**BANG!* Click, click..**BANG**

Twelve of the exiled unit's best sharpshooters effectivily kept the enemy troops who were manning the Northen walls heads down, with scope No.4 Mk.1 Scope Lee-Enfields. The other one hundred and eighty-eight troops slowly crawled towards the Northen wall under the distraction of the cavalry charge, and the effeciency of the exile's snipers at keeping of the troop's heads downs at the Northern wall.

Twelve of the exiled unit's best sharpshooters effectivily kept the enemy troops who were manning the Northen walls heads down, with scope No.2 Mk.1 Scope Lee-Enfields. The other one hundred and eighty-eight troops slowly crawled towards the Northen wall under the distraction of the cavalry charge, and the effeciency of the exile's snipers at keeping of the troop's heads downs at the Northern wall.


OOC: You are against me and Blackhelm?

OOC: Yup, but if you can RP us joining your side, ill let it go. I mean these guys don't REALLY want to be apart of the Muslim army, but they had no other way of survival..

Shots cut through the air zipping by Mario's head causing him to get low,

Christ, there's thousands of them... he thought...

OOC: How many troops are placed outside? You know the guys that are pretty much dead?

OOC: How many troops are placed outside? You know the guys that are pretty much dead?

About 70

IC:

Cannons continued splashing the vast desert expanse, sending men and horses flying through the air, screaming before landing with a sickening thud. The Arab tribesmen were dangerously close to the front barricade now, less than 25 yards. Men were being torn apart by the huge amount of Arab firepower. A number of the men broke and began pounding on the massive locked wooden gate, some crying, others screaming, all pleading that they be let in. Behind them, all they saw was death. For the men on the ground, there was little hope. One man finally realized he was not getting in, and drew his revolver. He put the barrel in his mouth, and pulled the trigger, having his brains splattered down on the hot desert sand.

Men on the small wall on the ground all realized that death stormed at them. Most, however, did not care. They had nothing to live for, as they were for the most part the scum of society. A number of them drew up bayonets or swords, preparing for the inevitable moment when the horsemen poured over that tiny stone and sandbag wall they constructed and layed waste to the men behind it. Others continued firing, some firing with better shots than others, all hoping that somehow the Arabs would just stop, and leave them alone, and just go back to wherever they came from.

The officer on the ground stood, firing his own revolver into the lines of horsemen. Each shot downing another man. Men looked to him for courage, only to see it soon brought down before him, as a musket ball tore through his abdomen. He crumpled to the floor, bleeding, but still alive, and still shooting. This act of bravery further insprired the men, who let out a cheer and stared death in the face, unloading their rifles into their enemy.

Mario watched the arabs continue to charge, they had already broken the ground line, the men below faught with fire in their hearts..

"Corporal! get more men from my section on the wall! we must continue to put fire on them!"

"Sergent!" the Corporal replyed then took off..

Mario looked over the wall, he seen an officer still firing as he went down..

**POW** he rebolted and fired again...

**CLICK** as he squeezed the trigger nothing came out..

Damn it! he thought then started to reload..

Morale was still good in the ranks and the men faught like hell, Arab bodys were scattered about on the desert ground, the sand under their bodys turned red as blood leaked out...

"Keep it on them men!!" He yelled...

I'm confuzzled. Are we RPing this as members of our NationState, or as members of either the Arabs or the Imperialists?

The exile's commanding officer, Charles Browne, saw his fellow man in great plite. Officer Browne also saw a chance to join a new army, a new chance for his men, to become great men. So he ordered his troops to fire, but where? "Alright men, it's time to gain our respect back! Save those poor bastards and fire at the Muslim Cavalry, fire!" And with that a vollet of un-wanted bullets pelted the Muslim Cavalry line, and saved many men from being killed, atleast for now.

But the Muslim cavalry soon swept around and charged at the exile's line, but the troops were veterans and amassed a huge amount of fire into the cavalry line that effectivly forced the cavalry to pull back. Charles screammed his orders, "Snipers stay in the rear! Infantry form up with those Exponentian troops!"

I'm confuzzled. Are we RPing this as members of our NationState, or as members of either the Arabs or the Imperialists?

I think it's like unit RPing, like you control like a squad or something, but its in thirdperson.

I know, but what are the combatants on either side?

I just turned for the Imperialist.
So everyone is imperialist.

Arabs are basically cavalry

Lieutenant Colonel Artemis Moonraven walked behind the line of Imperial troops, his revolver and sword drawn. His mens' rifles cracked as the advancing Arabs fell, but there were simply too many of them. "Fix bayonets!" he yelled, and the soldiers' fire ceased as every man drew the blade from his belt and affixed it to the end of his Enfield. Artemis cocked his Magnum, feeling the drum move and the first heavy bullet loaded into the chamber.

The Arabs swarmed in, and the Imperialists met them with a wall of lead. Screams filled the air as the Arabs fell, and Moonraven's men managed to get one morevolley in before the Arabs were on them, blades flashing away. Artemis shot the horse out from under one of them, and then leapt onto the dismounted rider. Moonraven was renowned throughout the army as one of the best swordsmen they had, and the Arab was dead within a few seconds.

Artemis whirled around to face another, cutting him down with his Magnum before he got close. Two more fell to his gun before he ran out of ammo. "Dammit," he cursed, as he thrust the gun away and drew a heavy dagger from his belt, meeting yet another Arab in close combat and cutting him down.

The Exile unit couldn't make it to the troops on the ground in time, but he saw a brave commander make a stand against the overwhelming odds and decided to march his men up, to the enemies Left Flank. "Troops, march approximiatly five hundred meters from target!" His voice could be heard for a kilometer in all directions threw the harsh desert. His troops moved up approximialty five hundred meters from the enemy cavalry. "Troops, fire at will!" The volleys of lead absorbed themselves into the Muslim cavalry, as it began to face them.

Since there turn they had managed to cause nearly three hundred Muslim casuelities. They would not stop till they routed the army, to the last man. Now the march of the full two thousand survivors headed towards them, with out help they would surely fall...

A Arab turned to watch the Exile troops crash into their flank, and Artemis took advantage of the distraction to drive his sword through his heart. His men cheered and thrust forward, their rifles and bayonets driving the Arabs back as they met with the Exile unit.

The Muslim army's commander looked straight at Charles Browne, and he smiled. Officer Browne returned the smile with an aimed bullet to the commander's head. The Muslim were stunned, but instead they vented their anger of the exiles' unit. Now the exiles smiled and waited for theit commander's voice. It came, with stunning resolution. "We have distrached the Muslims, and have saved this fortification. Our lives are now dedicated to killing two Muslims per one of us dying. Do what you must, charge them, shoot them, bite them, hell bash their heads in with your fists. But this is my final order, and you will complete it under stood?"

The entire unit answered as they fired volleys of lead into the oncoming Muslim army. "Yes, sir!" And with this Charles Browne took his pistol and saber out and charged, alone into the Muslim stampede. He fired off three rounds and killed a single muslim, then his saber penetrated the hear of another. A Muslim cavalry man stabbed him in the lower thigh, and Browne responded with two pistol shots to the Muslim's head. Then three more Muslims stabbed them, but he did not stop his onslaught. He popped one in the head with his pistol, and slashed the other two's heads off. Then a riflemen of the Muslim army put a bullet into his heart. With that Browne chucked his saber into another Muslims heart, and killed the Muslim. His final words were that of courage and recklessness, "Six men for one." then he died.

The men where fuelled with all kinds of emotions and fired round after round after round into the Muslim stampede, killing four hundred of them before they even got withen saber range. The exiles fired so quickly that they had actually ran out of ammo before the Muslims had reached them and already had their bayonets out when they had arrived. The surviving sixteen hundred Muslims battled the one hundred fourty-nine exiles fiercely.

OOC: Sorry if it seems godmoddish, just want my exiles to die making a difference. Please save like twenty of them though.

"Sir! We have to help them!" a private cried, pointing at the Exiles battling fiercely behind them.
Moonraven sighed as he ran. "No! They're giving us a chance to get away. Keep running!"
"But sir–"
"Privtae, ther'e no way we can help them. We have to get back to the main fortification. Otherwise, we'll all die."

The main gates opened as the battered battion entered. Artemis ran quick head count. Out of the hundred men he originally commanded, only forty were left.

OOC: You made the right decision, my friend. Sending your troops in would have been a clear defeat.

IC:

Seeing the troops rally into the fortifications only made the morale of the exiled unit soar even higher. But by now only a hundred and eight stood against fifteen hundred Muslim cavalry men.

A secondary officer tried to scream over the clang and clacks of the battles, "Snipers! Hide you will be the only remnants of this great unit! Call us company EX!" Soon afterwards that officer lay dead on the ground, but he had proudly taken four down with him.

The snipers quickly crawled to the Southern side of the gate, hoping they would open the gates for them, just praying. They continued to take pot shots at the Muslim army that was marauding the few survivors.

Bullets ricocheted off everything; Helmet, horse, pieces of metals, but they were all stopped by flesh at one point in the bullets short life time. Bullets ran this way and that; threw the chaos the forty exiles formed a circle and held their ground as Muslim after Muslim charged, the now thirteen hundred Muslim army was furious with this assault and decided to pull back, only two hundred kilometers.

With this break in combat the thirty-four remaining troops stood their ground in parade-like fashion waiting for the next attack to begin. Also using their time wisely though, they picked their next commanding officer, Lieutenant Arnold English. They were ready for the Muslim’s next move.

The doors opened, and a few men jumped out, grabbing the snipers by their collars and dragging them inside. A fullisade of Arab bullets pattered off the door as it closed.

Soldiers were allowed to eat and rest druing the brief lull in the combat. The heat of the day was gradually cooling down, and soon it would be freezing.

Lieutenant Colonel Artemis Moonraven ran the rough file along the edge of his sword, pausing to rub a but of grime off the blade. It was a fine weapon, custom-made for him in Alexandria. Unlike the sabers that most officers wore, this sword had a straight blade, and was a bit heavier than others. It had a emerald embedded in the hilt, which was wrapped in silver wire. The blade was etched with scenes from the life of the Prophet Muhammad. It was a detail many in the army disliked, but Artemis didn't really mind. It was just a job for him, albiet a job he was very good at.

His revolver wasn't quite as fancy as his sword. It wasn't standard issue, however. He had also purchased it in Alexandria. He preferred the bigger round it fired, even if it had a greater kick than the standard issue.

He sheathed the sword and set it down next to him, watching the soldiers scattered around the camp tend to their own weapons, cleaning rifles, loading revolvers, or sharpening swords. Artemis accepted the bowl of thin soup a private offered him, and drank it within ten seconds, following it with a peice of hardtack. He was still hungry. Hopefully they would last the night.

The remaining exiles slowly marched towards the door, with their backs facing it. It was difficult with out scurring yourself into another's bayonet, but it had to be done. No one could trust to let their eyes off those damn Muslims for a second.

Their slow advance frightenend many of the their comrade snipers that were just watching them. Fearful that if they shot at the enemy they would cause the Muslims to rush the remaining exiles.

They had come no less then ten meters to the gates before the Muslim cavalry started to rush again. Without ammo it was up to the troops on the rampart of the fort to protect them. They might no even be admitted into the fort. Even though they all should great courage they didn't want to do it again, they begged and screammed and the gates to be let it. They didn't want to fight, the good fight, again.

The gates were swung open quickly to allow the rest of the Exiles inside as the Imperials opened fire on the Muslims. Cannons and Enfields belched out a brutal fullisade, cutting many of the Arabs down before the gates were shut.

Alarm bells rang throughout the fort, rousing soldiers out of their rest. They seized their rifles adn made their way to the walls, joining their comrades in repelling the Arabs. Colonel Moonraven's batallion made their way behind the gate, setting up spiked barricades to slow the Arabs if they entered. Which they msot likely would, Artemis thought to himself as he jammed a pike in the ground. He then grabbed a spare Enfield and kneeled behind the sandbags, waiting for the Muslims to enter. He inserted a 5-round clip and jacked in the first round with a satisfying click, the bolt-action rifle comfortable in his hands. He did not screw on a bayonet, however, preferring his customized sword.

The Thirty-four surviving exiles couldn't fight anymore, but knew they couldn't collapse infront of the other troops or they would be forced to waste man power to drag them across the fort. So they marched towards the barracks and rested. The twelve snipers stood guard outside the barracks, bayonets ready.

OOC: They took down seven hundred Muslims, they are tired, you could rouse them up that would like being sending them to the slaughter. It's up to you though.

The de facto commander of the Exiles, *INSERT NAME HERE*, met Artemis's eye as he passed with the rest of his men. Two weary, disheveld soldiers, fighting for their lives hundreds of miles away from home. After a pause that seemed to last for hours, Artemis turned his attention back to the task at hand.

A screaming Imperial fell from the top of the wall, an arrow in his stomach. A Muslim followed a second later, and then the cry: "They're on the wall!"

"Dammit!" Artemis cursed, as the sounds of steel clashing reached his ears. "Sergeant Rowanoak, take ten men and follow me. Lieutenant Heartwood, stay here with the rest and hold the gate. This position must not fall."

"Yes, sir," Lieutenant Julius Heartwood, replied, snapping a salute with his saber. Sergeant Brutus Rowanoak followed Artemis to the stairs, where the Arabs were pushing the Imperials off the wall. Artemis raised the Enfield, took aim briefly, and fired. An Arab fell, screaming, and Artemis worked the bolt, ejecting the shell casing and loading in a new round. A salvo of rifle fire from Rowanoak's men took out a few more Arabs before they were too close for rifle work. It was down to pistols and swords now.

An Arab charged Artemis, who blocked the swinging scimitar with his rifle. He then smashed the man across the face with the butt of the gun, blood spurting out as he broke his jaw and cheekbone. The rfile came back from the other side, and the Arab, his face throughly shattered by now, was stabbed in the back by Rowanoak's bayonet. Artemis nodded his thanks, drew a bead on another Arab, and squeezed off a round. He didn't miss.

The commander of the exiles, Lieutenant Arnold English, couldn't form up his men. He could, how ever, form himself up. He walked outside of the barracks. As he did one of the guard approched him. "Sir, where are you going?"

With a stern reply, Lieutenant English said. "To fight for my men, if I die. I want Sergeant Philip Ray to commander what's left of us, understood?" The guard didn't bother with a verbal reply, he simply nodded his head and let Lieutenant English do what he had to do.

The Lieutenant had a No.1 Mk.III Lee-Enfield with no ammo and a 20 inch bayonet attached to it. But it was enough; even though he was young the Latican Jimuhn army did his the service of letting him see many a battle. This helped make him hard as steel as he stamped his way up to the rampart where Artemis was un-knowningly positioned.

The Lieutenant looked a Muslim straight in the eye and as if calling to him, the Muslim charged. With a perfect response the Lieutenant crashed the butt of the rifle into the Muslim's knees and then rammed the end of his bayonet into his Jugulair. The Lieutenant then got it off by pushing his foot against the dead man's chest.

This routine continued until he realised that they were steadily loosing ground.

OOC: How about we have these two guys die together, fighting side by side, and each of them becomes a national hero? It's midnight here, I'm going to bed, I'll post another IC tomorrow.

OOC: Alrighty got another commander set up for this :-D but he wont become a Latican national hero as he was exiled so0oo...

bump

Colonel Swiftsword watched in horror as the arab storm was given a new breath, and screamed for the wall. A massive series of cannon balls shook the walls of the fortress, tearinf a gap in the structure, a gap which the arabs exploited. Hundreds of men poured through the gap, killing men as they came. Exponential men rushed to the gap in a valiant effort to force out the barbarian tribesmen that came through, only to have the nomads exploit another weakness in the fort.

As the undermanned staff of the fort went to defend the breach, they left openings in the wall, openings which the desert sheiks realized. Ladder after ladder hit the wall as thousands of arab men swarmed around the fortification, and men began climbing up. The colonel fired buller after bullet from his Enfield revolver into the robed forms as they appeared on the walls, and was soon disheartened by what he saw spilling over the dunes. Yet another swarm of Arabs, likely hearing of the betrayal, had arrived, and now also began to join the melee. He knew at that moment the feeling of hopelessness.

All around him, his men, from all over the Exponential Empire, all fell as one. It mattered not whether they were from Paradise City, Sacrament, Redemption or Divinity, they all fought and died as one, each brave in their own sense. These men, faced with odds heavily stacked against them, all did not waver, and fought for their homeland. Even foreigners, men from a land he did not know, came to fight with them, and now streamed into the fort in a broken, exhausted line. The colonel swore that he would not let these men all die here in this desert in vain, he would not let these sand bastards take yet another fort.

bump

I thought I beat them down to Thirteen hundred?

They got the second swarm of madmen.

OOC: Damnit, well this RP is like.. done... so0ooo

Lets just finish it, I'm waiting for your post. I wanted it to be like the movie Legionare, ya know, the Jean Claude van Damme one?

OOC: No, but Im guna have the guys that are in the tents flank the Muslims and meet up with you guys in the center

Alrighty, sounds good.

A cannon ball screamed over the wall, over the heads of the fighting Imperials, and landed in a small building in the rear of the fort. The building was, unfortunatly, an ammunition depot. A massive boom and a fireball reaching over a dozen feet high soon came forth, throwing men left and right around the ground of the bastion. Faustus at that moment knew that no matter how hard he and his men fought, it would not be enough. There was no more ammunition. Whatever the men had on them was going to be the last of it. He carefully aimed and fired his last six rounds, each one right into the heart of one of the sand people, then drew his officers saber, and made his way to the fort's centre. From there, he would make his stand.

Blood spurted onto Artemis Moonraven's face as he pulled his sword from an Arab's throat. The wall was all but captured, and the ammo depot was blazing away. The only ammunition soldiers had now was what they carried with them, and they were running out. A few resourceful men were taking firearms off of the Arabs and using it against them, but it was hopeless.

OOC: i'll continue this later. Dinnertime.

Bump.

OOC: almost forgot about this. Thanks for the bump.

The courtyard was full of screaming Arabs and Imperialists. A valiant stand in the center, led by Colonel Swiftsword, was holding the Muslims, back, but even they were being overrun. The Arabs were simply too many.

A deft twist of his sword sent his oppenent's scimitar flying away, opening his torso for a swft stab. Artemis Moonraven dispatched that foe quickly, turing to meet another. Parry, parry, duck, slash, stab, and the Arab was lying on the ground, blood bubbling up for the gaping hole in his stomach. Then a sharp thunk in the back of Artemis's head, and the world went black.

OOC: he;s just unconcious.

The colonel and his band were now fighting for their lives. Men were using whatever they could gather to try and stay alive, despite the futility of the situation. One man was using a rammer for a cannon, while others were even using their fists. A lucky few still had guns, mostly ones that they had picked up from fallen Arabs.

The colonel watched as Lt. Col. Moonraven was knocked to the ground, and charged the offender, slicing him across the chest, and then jabbing his blade deep into his heart. Chaos was all around the flaming courtyard, as Exponential and Arab fell left and right. Swiftsword locked swords with another arab, dispersing him, and quickly he was fighting man after man. To him, the legends were true. These were not people born from women, but rather creatures spawned forth from the sand. That could be the only explanation in his eyes as to how there was just so many of these barbarians.

He sent four more of the nomads to their grave in intense sword fights before he realized that he was alone. The rest of his men had started to pull back to the rear of the fort, and there he stood, encircled by several score of Arab warriors. Suddenly, he felt a slash in the back of his left thigh, dropping him to a knee. He spun quickly, slashing the enemy swordsmans face, thus exposing his back to the warriors formerly to his front. Another man plunged his sword into the colonels back, and blood quickly began to pour from the wound. The colonel, with his last bit of strength, stabbed the man in the stomach, doing so over his own shoulder, and then fell forward as the arab fell backwards, each man with a sword sticking from their dead bodies.

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=507055 Join, Ezaltia, and Blackhelm is invited also.-OOC

Three hours later

The light cut into Artemis's eyes as he gradually regained conciousness. He immediatley shut them, and opened them bit by bit. His head felt like there was knife driven into it.

Arabs danced around a huge bonfire in the center of the fort, throwing Imperialist bodies into it. Artemis glanced around. Corpses were strewn everywhere. More Arab bodies than Imperialist, but Artemis knew the fortress had been lost. As far as he could tell, he was the only survivor.

He reached for the sheath on his belt, but his sword was not there. Neither was his revolver or dagger. Damn, he thought. I have to get out of here.

He hoisted himself onto his feet and crouched down, creeping behind the smoldering ashes of the ammo dump. He reached down and picked up a fallen Imperialist saber and jammed it into his belt, along with a revolver. He scrounged around on the body before finding a box of rounds. He loaded the gun and cocked the hammer, creeping towards the cluster of horses nearby.

He selected a fine gray, hoisted himself up and the saddle, and kicked it in the sides hard. The bolted towards the gate, and the Arabs immediatley started moving for their own horses. Artemis managed to shoot one of them before he was off, heading for the nearest Imperialist outpost.

At the outpost, a napping uard was awoken by the sound of racing hooves. He quickly hopped up and pointed his rifle at Artemis. "Whoa whoa whoa" he said angrily. "Who might you be, and where do you think your goin"

"Lieutenant Colonel Artemis Moonraven," Artemis replied breathlessy. "I just came from the fort, the Arabs are on my tail."

OOC: i;ll be back in a hour or so.