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Author Topic: Era 2, The Butcher  (Read 3561 times)
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« on: September 19, 2008, 13:53:59 PM »

Let me tell you all a story.

A story for the darkest of times. For a war so merciless, so dreadful, endless.
So came the enemy uninvited, black and brutal. He darkened the horizon with its long pikes. Even the trees, the birds and the animals grew silent, waiting for its seamless wrath to pour upon the land Imperian.
He came to kill, to slaughter, burn, massacre. Orderless. Merciless. Sleepless.
One-handed was riding in lead of the nomad Horde. The call him Oton. They call him The Butcher. They even call him Death.
His face is ever lit by madness. His eyes are burning with the never stopping anger. Where he stepped, he left a silence afterwards. A silence of despair.
Hundreds of thousands fell in this so bloody day. The fires filled vicinity with stench. A stench of living flesh, forced into the flames. A stench that reaches the very debts of the soul.
The Butcher passed the land like storm. He never stopped, even when no one left. He burnt the houses, cities, the villages, with women, children - everyone in them. A wound so deep as it was reaching hell, was opened in the frozen land.
Too few have dared to stand against him. Too few have overcame the fear. The armies of Imperia marched against the Horde to clash their swords with nomad pikes. The snow had turned into a bloody mess.
Too few were they, alas. The nomad sea of war was drowning them. Again. Again. For every fallen spear two new were showing up.
It was not the day of free Imperians. It wasn't meant for them to be the victors. Only to survive - so much was Oton's mercy.

The chains of slaves were heading back to nomads' camp. Their bare feet were crouching snow again to west.
The fallen ones were left to nature's mercy. Thousands of them lied before they could survive the Longest Walk.
The ones who lived knew that... to fall in battle was the better choice... instead of endless torture being a prisoner to a barbarian.
The screams and slaughters voiced the realm so many days. The blood was pouring like a spring came river.
It was the Oton - the Bloody Butcher's way. It was not enough to call him Beast.
Because the beasts are satisfied, eventually. And Oton's madness can not be quenched.
He came to strike this land into its very heart. He came to kill, to drain it into blood.
The most brutal of them all - The Primal Killer, mad, filled with never ending fury - a Sword of Destiny the Wolf was carrying.
He will not stop until he lies himself into the ground.

Third wave results:

Successful pillages: 524
Defenders victories: 178

Nomads killed: 1867518
Imperian soldiers killed: 433653

Civilians killed or taken into slavery: 1273935

His back was hurting him.
Nothing was helping.
"Even the darned herbs of that black-skinned witch crafter!"
And he was supposed to lead the tomorrow's attack.
But the hurt pride was the greater pain. Xaoc knew no mercy and it was a miracle he spared him for disobeying his orders.
Caxo was lying on his belly, while Jane was wrapping a thin linen cloth around his back. The fresh whip wounds were still bleeding. They had swelled and festered. The stench was unbarable. And even though she was touching him carefully, the Amazon was still causing him huge pain.
'Stay still, in the name of the Mother. And stop crying, be a man!'
The Blood-Thirsty looked at her with one of his eyes and spoke through his clenched teeth:
'I am a man! You should have notice that already!'
'If you refer to the countless female servants and slaves, who you "made happy", then I agree. But as far as I am concerned... and it is not just me... you are still a suckling. And you shall remain one, until you prove me otherwise.'
Jane tied the linen hard and Caxo groaned with pain.
She instantly slapped him through his face.
'Swallow your anger and your hurt pride and use your brain.'
She looked him in the eyes.
"Oh, Mother, he is truly still a child!"
'Your time will come, General. But not now. Not tomorrow. Not even... this year. Be silent. Observe. Be patient. Let others make their first moves. Let them make mistakes. Fortuna loves you. Your soldiers love you. Use this in your advantage. If you dive into the river too soon, the stream will carry you away.'
Jane stood up and went to the table to pour a wine.
The young nomad leader was looking at her. He had no one but her. She was like a mother to him. She had always counseled him, directed him, taught him. He knew all about war thanks to her.
"But she has her plans and ambitions as well!"
The Blood-Thirsty drank from the wine and folded his eyes.
'And what is your part... in this game, Amazon?'
The Fearsome Nomadess kept silent for quite some time. It was futile and stupid to deny anything. Caxo would never believe her anyway. And it was all to early... to reveal anything to him. To early indeed.
'When the time comes... you will know.'
Despite the hellish pain Caxo grinned.
'When the time comes, you say... And... won't that time... be too late for me to know?'
She didn't have do reply. They both knew the answer.

And outside... everybody dashed to meet... Oton's bloody slave convoys.
« Last Edit: September 19, 2008, 19:48:23 PM by Oton » Logged

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