Ancient World

The world is young, Contries are rising , Alliances are being fromed, Trades are being made, Who's contry will survie and who's will fall. Welcome to Ancient World, Let your story begin.

Normal rules apply.

Link to rules.

http://www.comicvine.com/message/official-rpg-rules/8030/&c=4&4

NO GUNS OR POWERS

If you have questions or are not sure what your doing PM me or go to the OCC.

DO NOT POST IN HERE UNLESS YOU HAVE BEEN IN THE OCC.

Have Fun.
Post Edited:2007-06-27 13:28:10

King Tomas Negro walked out to the balcony.

"Ah how i love my contry, but i disire more. i must create an army of immence proportions i shall start with the scandonavion king, maby the emporor of japan or the czar of russia. my country may already be powerful, but aided by those contries i shall be unstoppable."

King Tomas went into his chamber where he had three butiful madiens waiting for him.

"it's good to be king."

Emepor Arrow Sat in his Giant room, Large golden banners ran down the wooden walls, along the floor was a Golden woven carpet running the length the whole hall in the centre of the carpet was a enbeded Red Orcid the size of a man, Sitting in the Middle of that sat the Empeor, His Golden tunic made him almost invisable.

He moved sligtly, His hand on his sword, He clapped twice and a young man crawled in, No one was allowed to stand higher then the Empor of Japan "Send a messanger, to are nearest neigbours, I wish to meet the outside world".

The empor stood and walked to the his golden chair, the chair was amazing a caving of Japan made in to a chair , He smiled as he sat and waved for the man to go.

The heather was red with blood. But the line of advancing men paid it no heed. Before them the Rebels ran or died on the swords of the soldiers.

High King Malcolm Wallace watched the battle with interest. The Rebel forces were brave, but the disiplin of his men had proved to be worth more. The charge down the mountainside had been stopped by the spears of his men and now the disorganised enemy retreat had become a rout. Hi heavy infantry kept going. Up the hill and over the bodies at a steady forty paces a minute. It was time to send in his reserves.

A trumpet blast caused the retreat to be cut off, as Malcolms clansmen swept around the summit and down into the milling foe. Malcolm dispatched orders forthe captains to take independant command and spured his horse.

"Lets have some fun boys." he called to his horsemen.

The heavy infantry reached the battle once again and enveloped the paniced enemy. The sound of metal on metal and the screams of the wounded and dying filled the air. Fun was being had.

Cinders floated gently into the chilly night air. The wind howled and made the flames dance over the wrecked, half-sinking ship. Bodies hung from the railing of the ship.

Standing on the ship across from the sinking ship, Skotsk Ulv, Viking Chief of Scandinavia, watched his tribe's latest plunder burn before his eyes. His tribe were named the Sea Wolves, after the way they work. They had already taken everything of value from the merchant vessel. It was a private vessel, not belonging to a country.

His second-in-command came up to him. "My Chief Ulv, the fire burns bright, and someone may have seen it."

Skotsk thought for a moment. "Set a course for Home, Venn."

"Right Away, Chief." The man scurried over to the man at the helm.

As Skotsk contined to watch the ship burn, his ship began to move. He turned to his men. "Good Job, Men. ach of you will get ther fair share. Now, Onwards Home!"

Malcolm wiped sweat off his brow and flung his buckled sword from him. He was angry, that had been his fathers blade, now a stupid tribesman from the hebredes's helmet had reduced it to a twisted club.

All around him wounded were being cared for. With a blade in some cases.

"Leave the enemy dead and wounded for the crows and the highlanders, they'll enjoy the looting. Iron Wolves form up. We march in a few minutes."

The men shared glances around him. They knew who he was running home to. His young wife and thier soft bed. But they obeyed. The Iron Wolves were proffessional soldiers, kept as part of Malcolms standing army and so did not feel the need to plunder the battlefield. After seven years of intensive training and clan warfare, they were some of the finest troops in Albion. Malcolm was proud to command them.

The majority of the army marched off, leaving the irregulars to descend on the field.

King Nikoli walks into his throne room and notices a butterfly stooped in his throne

"Hmmm how can something so beautiful still live in a world like this"

Nikoli looks out his balcony window and peers down to the streets, to see that his world before him needs changing.

He ponders to himself on how could his countries previous leader let it fall so fast and not change it.

Looking out at his assembly of soldiers and ambassadors

"This is not the Russia i grew up in, the man before me turned it into a world of disgust and shame. I WILL CHANGE THIS COUNTRY, BACK TO WHAT IT WAS BEFORE HIM!"

He looks at the frame and picture being taken from the throne room. And glares at it.

" I am a man of virtue and loyalty. I will bring this country back to its formal GLORY!!!"

He stands and listens to the cheers of his fellow country men.

"FOR MOTHER RUSSIA" They scream.

Heavy fabric draped around the figure atop a hill. The white bones of the earth had been exposed to reveal the figure of a horse, his legs charging, his eyes wild and bright. Dales rolled around her, a small settlement at the base of the hill nestled, protected on all sides. It had been temporary, somewhere to stop to rest before moving off to the barrows and further down to the Henge, but over time it had built itself up into a stopping point, a village in its own right. Boadicea pulled her cloak, held at her neck by a heavy gold pin with dark green stones in a knotwork, tighter around her. The wind was building, bringing the scent of fresh fires and cooking.

"If we keep going, we'll be there by tomorrow," a deep, soft voice said at her elbow. But she shook her head and pointed down to the village.

"I can smell stew," she said with a smirk. "And I'm tired of your cooking. We'll stay the night in Uffington before heading out tomorrow morning. It won't take so much off our time."

Malcolm rose early and dressed. A simple kilt and plaid with a plain cloak. The only sign that he was a king over men and not a peasent farmer was the brooch at his neck. It depicted an dragon wrapping round itself with rubies for eyes. He glanced at his sleeping wife and left the room.

Downstairs the Captain of the Iron Wolves and Malcolms long time friend Duncan snapped to attention. Malcolm waved him to ease and gestured for him to sit. He wasnt in the mood for ceremony.

"I want to give Queen Boudicea a gift. It's about time. I was thinking of a wolf fur cloak, what do you think? You were always the womaniser."

Duncan laughed,

"Yet you are the married man. Frankly Mal I think Boudicea is to important an ally to lose. Send he a detatchment of Iron Wolves to guard her."

A maid bustled in with a platter of fruit and cheeses. She placed them on the table and left.

"Fine Duncan, I'll send ten of the Wolves, but she's also getting that cloak." Malcolm said when she'd left.

They finnished breakfast in silence, each chewing over more than just the food. Duncan finnished and left to organise the bodyguards and MAlcolm was left to his own devices.

"Time to get a new sword I think." he said to himself.

The armourer was obliging and set to work. By the end of the day, Malcolm would be armed again.

The Wolves were training out on the hill. Two thousand men in heavy armour, engaged in a mock battle. They used blunted wooden weapons with lead cores. They weighed twice that of thir real equipment, building stamina and technique. However they did real damage. Every day several warriors would be invalided with broken bones. However the risks were worth it. The Wolves were heavy infantry second to none.

Back inside Malcolm ordered for supplies to be packed. He would deliver his gifts to Boudicea himself. She was bound to be in the south somewhere and the Wolves could do with a long march.

The Orange glow of Dawn peeked over the horizon. Most men on board the Viking Manen, or Viking Moon in english, were waking up now. Skotsk was already up and saring into the horizon. His second-in-command, Andre Kommandere, came up beside him.

"Have you ben up all night Skotsk?"

Skotsk shook his head. His arms were folded and he was stroking his brown beard. He did this alot. "Nei. I woke merely minutes before you."

"I will continue our journey to home then?"

Skotsk nodded. Andre walked back to where his belongings lay and began to dress for the day. Skotsk turned and looked around. He knew these waters well. And he thought the men had one last raid in them before they headed home.

"Andre," Skotsk said walking up to Andre,"Turn Northwest."

Andre looked surprised. "But, Sir, We are close to home."

"Ja. I know. But I have another destination in mind before we sail to our home waters."

Andre nodded. "I will inform the helmsman at once." Andre walked off to the helm.

It was now noon. Green hills could be seen on the horizon to the west. Andre came over to Skotsk, who was now dressed, his sword in its scabbard and his shield strapped over his back.

"Skotsk," Andre said, holding a map,"Our maps tell us that we are entering The Moray Firth."

Skotsk nodded his head. "Ja. Now that we are inside, set a course for Highshire. 'Tis a town on the northern coasts of the Firth."

Andre nodded and ran off again.

Soon they were in sight of Highshire. It was a nice, seaside town. Pity. Skotsk stood at the helm of the ship and ordered the helsmen. "Seek cover by those rocks off to the right. The Viking Manen sailed behind the cover of enormous rocks on the beach far off to the right of Highshire.

Skotsk set foot on the beach and put his hand on his sword. He turned to his men and said,"You know the way. Take anything of value. Harm only men, children are off limits. Women, well, do what you wish. Burn the remains. Ha for den." The men cheered and the Sea Wolves ran for the once peaceful town of Highshire, swords brandished and shields held in front of them.

Malcolm rode along side his men. They had pushed hard the last few days, with the battle against the rebels followed by another practice. So now they moved at a leisurely pace. The sky had been clear all day and so Malcolm felt a stirring of alarm in his belly when a sudden black cloud appeared above the ridge that they were ascending.

“Duncan, come with me to the summit.”

The Captain spurred his gelding and the two men reached the crest. Below them a town was burning. Flames licking at the bases of several plumes of smoke. In the bay a sleek warship was aground. Although the distance was to great to make out any insignia Malcolm thought that the attack bore the hallmark of Vikings. He turned in the saddle to his men as they climbed the hill.

“First Talon opening skirmish order. Second to Sixth form a battle line and advance to battle!”

His men reacted quickly, the cheerful mood of the march dissipating in moments. The armoured men hefted shields and lowered their heavy spears into position. Malcolm dismounted and joined the front rank. Heaving his weapons into the ready position he gestured and the attack began. The first talon running forward to make contact with the foe while the rest of the unit advanced.

As they advanced each man in the unit let out a roar in time with the steps. The wall of noise would sweep through the enemy and intimidate them. Giving the wolves the advantage in the coming bloodshed.

Skotsk slit a neeling man's hroat and let him fall to the ground. "Keep it up, men! The town will fall soon!" But the men were too preoccupied with somethin else. Skotsk turned his head up a nearby hill to see men advancing. "Fordomme! Scots!" He turned to his men. "Keep alive, men!"

Skotsk turned just in time to block a Scot's sword coming down onto his head. He held up his shield and blocked the attack, then used the momentum against him and ooushed him backwards, driving his sword into his stomach. He kicked the man off his sword.

He turned and tried to find Andre. He found him burning a house nearby. "Andre! Take some women and children hostage! Tell the other men!"

Andre nodded and ran off. He knocked another man out with his shield and saw his men grabbed some women and men. only abou one or two chidren. Skotsk tried to avoid barbaric measures when possible, but would not hesitate if agitated.

Malcolm watched as women and children were dragged forward. The threat was obvious. With a kurt hand gesture a trumpeter blew a note, sounding the disengage. The skirmishers broke off from combat and dashed back to the waiting infantry.

"Where is your leader!" Malcolm shouted to the milling barbarians.

At the same time he talked to Duncan in a low voice.

"Take fifty men, circle round and take thier ship. They want to do this the hard way, I'll play along."

Duncan nodded and lead half a talon away into the smoke from the fires. The scots in the main line stood uneasily, weapons held ready. Malcolm gestured to his own guards and walked towards the Vikings.

"I am willing to treat with him." he called.

Now all he had to do was buy Duncan some time.

Skotsk smiled. His plan had worked. He looked closer at the Scots and saw that they looked smaller. Where had the rest gone. They might've gone around behind him, trying to sneak up on him. Hopefully his men on the ship would see it and engae the Scots.

A man that looked like the Scots leader began walking towardSkotsk's men. He looked over at Andre and flicked his head, motioning for him to follow Skotsk. He turned to his men and said in Norwegian Wait for my signal. If things get rough, kill them.

Skotsk and Andre walked up to the leader and said. "I am Skotsk Ulv, Chief Viking of Scandinavia. This is my Venn, Andre Kommandere. What is it you want, Hoydepunkt Mannskap?

Malcolm replied in flowing gaelic. Deliberatly using a foreign language to confuse the Viking leader. He stopped and looked into the mans eyes. There was no fear there.

"I am high king Malcolm Wallace. I have come to offer you some options. My force is larger and better equiped than yours. Victory is not in doubt. However my men's lives are important to me, so I will present you with a choice. You can surrender, be taken to my captial and tried by a court for brigandry. Or, and this is my own favorite, You may stay here, I will give you land overlooking the sea. Around six feet of land. Enough to bury you in. Choose."

Malcolm spun on his heel and walked back towards his own lines, back straight. Presneting a perfect target for any archers. He smiled inwardly, let them try.

Duncans troops ran down by the shoreline, thier ranks reinforced with a few men who'd fled the town. Already two of the raiders had fallen to thier swords. The longboat was up ahead, beached to allow the warriors to diembark. Duncan roared a challenge and the fifty under him spurted forward. Murder in thier eyes.

Sergey was the prince of Russia, his brother was older, so therefore he received the right to the throne. He always was the better politician, unlike Sergey. He preferred to spar with his trainers, practice in the Asian arts of fighting. He was hearing the screams of the people as Nikoli was riling them up, as he disarmed the sword out of his trainers hands, while sending who daggers to pin the other one to the wall. Nobody knew of his skills, except for the trainers and his brother. He was trained as a soldier, as he chose to do so. Being a prince and sitting on the throne all day doing nothing but filling his belly was not in his style. Another man walked in, a servant.

"Otzhe prosil peredat cho on vas mozchet seichas uvidet." - Sergey nodded and went in to dress up properly. He didn't want the carriage to carry him across the town, too much attention. He dressed in old and dusty clothes that the ironsmiths around Moscow dressed in, making sure to place a stack of daggers on the inside of his clothing, four in his boots and a short sword under the heavy coat. He did this all the time without anyone knowing it, not even his brother. He dressed as a simpleton and walked the streets as the poor folk, took on their jobs and tried to help people. Nobody ever recognized him, his brother was the king who spoke to the country, not him. It's good to be the king of the country, but it's better to the prince of the people.

1

All of a sudden a simpleton came in with a dagger above his head.

"Russia will fall by your hands, not be saved!"

Nikoli gestured to his guards to not attack

Nikoli" You want to harm me, well i will give you the first attack"

The man came charging dagger in hand. The man slashed at the king. But the king grabbed the man by the wrist and twisted it and fell the man to the floor.

He removed the dagger from the mans possession.

Nikoli"I will let you live, this once."

He then turned his back to the man, yet the man had another smaller dagger and attacked the king.

Swoosh...THUD

The king turned around so fast the man took one more step before his head fell from his body.

The king sheathed his sword, and fixed his collar and waited for his little brother to return to the castle.

"Quick! Back to the Village!" Skotsk and Andre ran to the village, fighting off some of the fifty sent to attack. He ran by the men holding the villagers hostage. Skotsk made a slicing motion over his throat and soon the hostages lay on the ground, dead.

"hastig Rygg a det longboat!" The men began fleeing back to the longboat. Skotsk passed a Tavern and saw a few barrels of whiskey lying to the side, waiting to be loaded in. Skotsk had an idea. He ran over and kicked one of them, causing a domino effect and sending them rolling out into the path of the soldiers. He began running an signaled his archers. "Shoot the barrels! Flame arrows!" The archers lit their arrows and fired them at the barrels. The wood from the barrels began to catch fire, and the fire soon spread. it kept spreading and the soldiers began getting closer to the barrels. soon the barrels burst into flames, sending a wall of fire and smoke obstructing the soldiers vision and blocking their path.

Skotsk and the remaining of his crew jumped into the longboat and pushed off, firing arrows at the soldiers that came at them from the beach. Skotsk stood, his eyes fixated on Malcolm Wallace as they sailed off. Skotsk waved his hand forward and the archers again shot flaming arrows high into the air.

"Hjem Mannskap!" Skotsk yelled. The men yelled in joy as they sailed home.

king tomas heard of the gathering in japan from one fo the servants.

"hmmm, this shall be an interesting trip. guards find a butiful woman and make shure she's pure. after all i would like to give a gift to a fellow ruler.

after his guards miniscule, anger, phychosis, and carlos came back with the gift they were off to find japan.

Malcolm watched as the Vikings ran. It was a tactically sound descision. Outnumbered and surrounded it was what he would have done in the same situation. The hostages lay dead, throats cut, and the tonn was still on fire.

"Move out!" he shouted.

The soldiers turned thier backs on the fleeing ship and trudged back up the hill. Malcolm looked around for Duncan. He was dead, lying on his back transfixed by a spear. Malcolm looked into his dead friends eyes and felt the hatred grow within him. Somewhere on that boat of raiders was the man who killed Duncan. It didnt matter, they would all pay. Malcolm turned and rejoined the colum as they wound southward once again.

"Your days are numbered Skotsk Ulv. I swear it by all the gods in the sky."

king tomas came to japan.

"gentalmen act civilized please. this meating must go well.'

they five were taken to the palace where the met with the emporor.

"greetins emporor arrow. i am king tomas of spain. these are my five most trusted and loyal conquistadors. i have brought you a gift."

king tomas snapped his finger calling for anger and phsicosis.

"here you are one thousand dollars ind spanish gold and one of the most butiful virgins in spain."