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Author Topic: Twenty fourth wave.  (Read 1426 times)
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« on: August 11, 2008, 14:09:33 PM »

Two hours before noon.
The sun had already started to scorch the earth. The day would be very... very hot.
"And it will be the last day of my life."
Emperor Decimus smiled and put his hand on his forehead, shading his eyes, looking at the thousands of his subjects, gathered to see him off for the last time.
He lifted his head up and walked slowly the wide central street.
A heavy moan came from the crowd. Tough and war hardened male faces were all in tears. Women started screaming, pressing their children by their skirts. Flowers flew towards the walking Emperor.
'Don't go, my King!'
'Let us die with you, Your Majesty!'
'Do not leave us, My Lord!'
The Sovereign raised his hand to silence his people. He smiled. He was calmed.
'Do not mourn for me', he started, with his voice deep, clear and strong, 'Swallow your tears, because difficult times lie ahead of all of you. Mourn for those that will be here after me. And remember me with good. Remember... today.'
The crowd burst like a volcano and it was nearly impossible for the guards to restrain it.
"Let's get this over with!"
Emperor Decimus, Lord of the Romian Empire, Guardian of the Sword and the Flame, one of the most powerful and just warriors ever born in the lands of Imperia... had surrendered his Fortress to Jane - The Amazon - previous day. And he asked for his people to be spared. The nomad Marshall stated only one condition - his life. A public execution. Two hours before noon.
The main fortress gate opened slowly to reveal the nomad honor lane, leading the way to the scaffold.
The executioner was standing still, keeping the two yard sword, its blade down.
The Amazon was waiting for him in front of the steps, riding her war horse.
The Emperor took a deep breath and walked the lane, hard pacing, towards the Nomadess, trying not to listen to the groan, coming from the Fortress.
He stopped at one feet from the heavily breathing horse, grabbed its reins, bowed and... gave her the Fortress key.
'I trust that you will keep your promise, Marshall', he said firmly, looking at her eyes.
The Barbarian War Lord was impregnable.
'You have my word, Emperor.'
Decimus nodded his head and climbed on the platform.
He turned and looked at the Stronghold, which he had defended all his life. The towers and the walls were full of people, waving white towels.
'Live and remember', he yelled.
The executioner headed towards him to tie his hands.
'Do not touch me, you nomad dog', Decimus clenched his fists. The executioner looked at the Amazon in question and saw her shake her head.
The Emperor took his shirt off, knelled and put his both hands around the stem.
And the sun continued to shine over this bloody and merciless world.

Twenty fourth wave results

Imperian Fortresses destroyed: 1168
Defenders' victories: 445

Nomads killed: 15628572
Imperian soldiers killed: 4837274

Oton was sitting, drinking wine, looking at his prisoner sharply.
The blond - former - Queen was on the ground, tied for the joist, at the center of the tent, breathing hard, with her eyes burning.
She refused to feed herself third day already. At the first attempt to feed her the Butcher had untied her and nearly lost his eyes. One of his bodyguards, however, did lose a piece of his left ear.
The Marshal was starting to lose patience.
"If she does not have some food today, tomorrow she will probably faint in famish."
The women, also, continuously refused to be cleaned. Her wounds had already started to fester and swell.
Oto left the chalice on the table, took the filled with fresh goat cheese and olives dish and looked at his captive again.
The frozen eyes brightened up. The Aiarian spit aside in contempt.
'Go in hell, you nomad dog!'
The Butcher clenched his teeth and snapped his fingers.
A page went into the tent immediately and saluted. He look omnisciently at the tied pile of rags. "The Marshall found himself a companion? This one? She looks like a pile of crap! The are... a lot more... juicy and better looking slaves in the camp..."
Oton interrupted his thoughts:
'How many captives came from the Airarian land?'
'About a thousand, Marshall. I am not quite sure about the exact figure, I will ask. They are being transferred as we speak...'
'Behead them all.'
'No', the woman screamed and hurled herself forward. At least she tried. The ropes were tied firmly.
If her eyes could kill, Oton should be a pile of bloody, smoking little pieces of meat already.
'Eat', the bloody nomad leader repeated calmly and slowly put the dish at her feet, untying her left hand.
The blond put one olive in her mouth, continuing to pierce him with her blue eyes.

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