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SKILORD
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Live free or Die
Mar 2002
time: 05:34
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Where did the inspiration for this come from? A mixed bag of credit I must give, Costner's most recent film 'Open Range' had a great deal to do with it, but it is also largely inspired by the film 'Braveheart.'
I'm going to do it bit by bit, enjoy!
Last edited by SKILORD on 13-03-2004 at 11:44
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SKILORD
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Live free or Die
Mar 2002
time: 05:34
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In the days before history there were men.
This is their last story.
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Henry sent a sorrowful glance down at his sister. She had been queen for years now, leading the people through the forests and down from the hills. They stood together outside of Elizabeth’s newly established palace, where she had declared that London would be built.
“I can’t support this Elizabeth, you know that.”
She frowned bitterly at him, “Henry, you know that this is how it has to be, we can’t travel forever.”
“Why not, Elizabeth? Why not? There’s peace and joy oot there, you settle down and see what it gets ye. I’ll tell ye now, nothin but jealousy, bitterness, strife. Civilization you call it, a bleedin horror says I.”
His thick and deep voice quivered as he spoke, Henry shuddered as he realized that she couldn’t compromise with him now, that she had no choice but to build this city.
“Its for the best, Henry.”
“I can’t live that life.”
She shook her head, “I’m sorry brother,” She took a purse from her belt, tossed it to him, “Twenty-Five pieces of gold.”
He held it in his hand, “to live?”
A tear bit at her eye, “Aye.”
He embraced her quietly, “I love ye sis, don’t forget it.”
-
That day Henry took his men to the North; where their restless souls could forever wander the plains, or so had been promised by his sister.
Civilization makes promises, but rarely keeps them.
Last edited by SKILORD on 13-03-2004 at 11:41
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SKILORD
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Live free or Die
Mar 2002
time: 05:34
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Foreward: Old habits are hard to break. I'm gonna take a shot at 2 at once again. I'll make them as drawn out as I can so as to avoid being too efficient again. 
The rabbit pelts hung on a line, outstretched in front of the camp. A fire smoldered in the center of the camp, surrounded by small tents.
“It’s gonna be a long winter Henry,” the man had a short, stubby beard and long rebellious hair. He was kneeling in front of the same wooden table that Henry was, a roughly hewn and poorly tamed beast of timber.
“Aye, that it’ll be.”
“We’ll hardly be able to catch ennegh to keep ourselves alive. Wot with your sister’s men moving northwerds.”
Henry nodded, times were starting to be hard. His men’s axes were falling far short of the immense capability for animal slaughter that his sister’s archers were capable of.
“They’ll probly kill too menny of the deer, kill ‘em all.”
The other man nodded to Henry’s wisdom, “Efficiency,” he grinned. “gotta love ‘er.”
Silence sat, smothering the small tent.
“We’ll need to use the gold, Henry. The land won’t give us enough.”
The axe came crashing onto the small wooden table, shattering it in half and sending splinters flying through the tent.
“We’ll not be goin into the towns, “ Henry shouted, “The towns suck a man’s freedom awaye. You try to buy something there and they’ll wanna see your town-mark. They’ll not hardly sell annething to free men.”
The other man nodded. The men of the towns were scarred at birth with the signet of their town, with that scar they could purchase the bows and arrows that British technology had found. Elizabeth was dead set against sharing.
“We can still buy food, Henry.”
Henry shook his head, calmer, “We’ll be fine.”
The silence returned. It sank into the air with the sawdust that slowly drifted towards the floor.
“Our days are over, arnt they?”
Henry frowned fiercely.
-
His ornate clothing was far from anything that the freemen had produced. He grinned smugly to be among men who were so obviously less than Britons. Barbarians, he thought, the Greeklings stand higher than these.
“I come in the name of her majesty.”
Henry stood, tall and muscular. His own hair was well clipped, “Who would dare call herself majestic? Who would heap luxuries even upon her own name?”
The ambassador straightened, “The Queen, Elizabeth. Of course.”
“Has she gotten to thinking that she’s better than the rest of us then?”
The ambassador frowned hostilely, “Her majesty holds in her very hand the whole life and fate of Britain. She is a figure to be revered.”
“Like some bitter goddess? Who must be kept at bay lest she ruin yer dreams?”
The ambassador pulled out his knife, approaching Henry, “That’s sacrelige! I’ll see you hanged.”
Henry’s fist slipped through a simple arc, landing neatly on the ambassador’s face.
“See me hanged will ye?”
The ambassador propped himself up, toughing a hand to his bleeding lip.
“What are ye here fer?”
“Her majesty, Elizabeth the mighty queen of England and all of Britannia, demands tribute from your tribe if they wish to continue living in British lands.”
The other men behind Henry stood and approached.
barbarians the ambassador thought, watching the large and frightening men approach.
An infant wailed from a tent, and a mother stood in the door with the babe, one of the barbarians turned to them.
“And if we’ll have none o’ that?”
“You will die, your camp shall be burned to the ground.”
Henry leaned over the man, staring down at him, “I’ll not have ye stealing from me camp. No matter how self righteous ye be.”
“In that case we’ll burn it all. And murder…” he glared over at the woman and infant, whose father even now offered it a piece of rabbit meat, “everyone.”
The barbarian with the long hair trashed himself forward, grabbed by Henry.
“We’ll be decent men here, Jonas. We’ll be proper.”
The ambassador laughed, “You barbarians worry about your manners? Wouldn’t expect that!”
Henry spat at the man, “We treat a man as is proper. Ye self righteous bastards in the towns have forgotten what it is to be a man, forgot how to care for the world around ye, forgot how to live. Go ta hell.”
The ambassador stood erect, fury in his eyes, “This camp will burn.”
“I’ll see it tried then,” Henry frowned, watching the small and ornate man hurry away from the camp.
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SKILORD
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Live free or Die
Mar 2002
time: 05:34
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Second rate work designed to proliferate ideology and keep ya off my backs for a while.
-
The soldiers were lined up neatly on their horses. Spears hung limply at their side, leather saddles reflected dimly the slight light that wasn’t broken buy the massive trees.
“Any who would surrender, form a queue.”
None responded save for the men who marched out of their tents, leaving wife and child behind, grabbing sword, axe, spear.
“Surrender or die.”
An archer forced his way up, lighting an arrow with a torch. Lifting it and drawing his bow back.
“Surrender or burn.”
An axe shot out from the small crowd of men, thrusting itself deeply into a rider.
The arrow was released, throwing itself deep into the sky, arcing and leaving a faint trail of smoke.
A rider toppled off of his horse, the tame beast looked frightened about, as freedoms suddenly rushed it. A million liberties charged that broken stallion, the saddle was weightless, the driving rod had fallen its last, the bits could be spat.
Swords rushed across the field, spears were hurled deep into horseflesh.
Into the camp an arrow landed, swallowing a tent whole in its devouring grasp. Soon a flaming tempest had taken to every tent, dashing them across the rocks of fate, striking suddenly and leaving nothing but ash.
Horsemen pulled their steeds forward, forcing them into battle, driving their spears into the barbaric horde. The knew they were defending their motherland, they knew that no good could come from this camp, no sciences, no literature but the spoken stories, no life but the ragged children that burned so quickly.
And as the camp burned and as the barbarians were forced against iron blade of spear a solitary stallion danced and trotted into the woods.
-
Firm ropes bound Henry’s hands behind his back; the firm wooden cage encompassed him. Everything was limited, constrained, forced.
“Onny chance that ye’ll be littin me out soon?”
“The guard simply smiled, “As soon as we’re in London, soon as you’ve met yer sister. She wants te talk to ye.”
Henry mumbled as he settled back down, he was filthy, covered with the ashes of his camp, his hair was bound together by caked mud, his face was scarred far beyond what it had been when he had last seen his sister. Things will be fixed, he promised himself. Hits sister would set matters straight and he would lead a new group back into the wilderness and back into freedom.
Even he feared that it wasn’t true, he had heard what she was calling herself now, the Great. She was showering herself with grandeur. The megalomania that had infected all of the men that had left their freedom and the wilds had not spared her. He was, for this reason, afraid.
-
He was bound more tightly still, his shirt was torn and his pants were frayed.
“Welcome to London, Henry.”
Henry frowned, “They tell me that you spent the gold you stole from my people in building up this palace, is that true?”
She smiled mischievously, “The people insisted.”
“You wouldn’t let what the people wanted stop you from doing what you wanted.”
She paused for a moment, shrugged.
“What’s become of you Elizabeth, where is my sister?”
“I have people to serve now, Henry. I haven’t tried to escape my destiny like you have.”
“Escape? I live as I was intended.”
“You were born to be wild?”
“As a true nature’s child,” he grinned. It was a poem he had composed years ago as he played rebelliously with his lyre, “I can fly this high, I never want to die.”
“You were born for more than that Henry,” she shared his smile, “We can both tell that. Rule, the crown beckons for you.”
She took the crown off of her head and offered it to him, the gold shimmered enticingly, the gems glittered almost magically.
“I can’t, Elizabeth. I never want to die, you already have. You’ve surrendered yourself entirely to the task of ruling and I wish only to be free and see others free.”
She pulled the crown back and placed it gently on her head, “There isn’t room for that anymore, there are only the conquerors and the conquered.”
“Why? Where did we go wrong that we had to fight amongst ourselves, when did greed become the highest virtue?”
She grinned sadly; gesturing out the large and ornate opening in the wall, “Ask them.”
He shook his head, “Let me be free, let me take the men who would be free and let us join the wilderness again.”
She frowned, “There isn’t room for that anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because there are the Spanish, the Aztecs, the Chinese, any of these have stolen your right to be free and solitary.”
He frowned harshly, “I can’t live the life of the city dweller or of the slave.”
She shook her head, “There are those who call for your blood, you know that Henry. Promise me that you will submit to those lives and I will spare you.”
“If not?”
She smiled, “There is a phrase that Caesar taught me… ‘Vox populi, vox deus.’”
He was familiar with the Latin tongue from his hunts in the lands they had presumptuously called their own. He grinned at her phrase.
“You have no will left, you have no morals left, have you sister? Do you know that women and children burned alive at your command? Can you not hear thei8r screams?”
She shrugged, “Civilization has its price.”
He stood, stared fiercely into her eyes, “Let it pay its own, then.”
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EQandCivfanatic
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obvious what it is based on, glad to see another civ3 based story from you. Makes me understand those damn barbarian motives.
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13-03-2004 07:50
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