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SKILORD
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Live free or Die
Mar 2002
time: 05:24
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**I like the Winter Terrain Pack in PTW, It adds a nice feel to the game.**
The icy wind lashed the trees unmercifully. The pitiful hut stood, a bold tribute to man's defiance of nature, even in this he stood above the elements, protected from the earth by a thing of his own construction. He forced his horse to a halt, some leader's birthplaces were better honored. The hut stood alone at least, the former home of Prime Minister Ragnar was not a proud establishment, his meager origins were part of his appeal. Catherine's cradle, it was said, lay in a museum, it was golden. Brennus's parent's shanty had been replaced by a great palace, equal to the palace their son commanded from. Every other leader had also moved away from their childhood home, Ragnar had inherited it from his parents and continued to live there. His provincial nature was no mere political ploy. Ulrich knocked politely, yet firmly, on the door. A bearded, grinning face greeted him.
"Welcome in old freind," Ragnar said, beaming.
"My freind," Ulrich said embracing him,"It has been too long."
They sat at Ragnar's meager table, where he served a stew, obviously made for only one.
"The king should not feast while the peasant's starve," Ragnar said to him. Ulrich smiled, it was this type of attitude that had won Ragnar the heart of the people.
"It is exactly that which brought me here this evening."
"What would my greatest general want to know about the famine?" Ragnar seemed perplexed.
"I have a solution."
"What?" Ragnar seemed shocked that a cure to Scandinavia's greatest scourge could come from this particular branch of government.
"We have recently experienced a bout of extremely supportive movements by the populace towards the state, yes?"
"True, but i can hardly see what nationalism has to do with starvation."
"I propose that we enlist the starving masses to their nation's defense, we put guns in the hands of the starving. We would take them under our wing, feed them as we save food for their currently starving families."
Ragnar took his beard in hand and played with it as he spoke.
"The Domestic department won't approve."
"What of them? We are saving the people. Oslo could secede if we can no longer provide for her good."
They had just won Oslo back, it had been one of Ragnar's promises during the election and he had fulfilled it. Russia had also won back Yatusk. Stockholm remained in their control, as it had since the early days of the conflict.
"But peace has been established. We have no need of such troops."
Ulrich laughed heartily.
"You jest! You have been running tthis nation for decades and you still do not grasp the world entirely. You know our allies the British? Archeologists propose that London once belonged to them, it was even their capitail."
Ragnar shook his head in disbelief, Ulrich's eye was caught by the shadows he threw to the wall distant from his hearth.
"I cannot see any point in such ponderings, it is ours now, it has been for as long as anyone can remember."
"The point is that the world has a way of changing it's mind. I present the spanish, we warred with them twice before they joined us against Russia in the first war. Our peace and their agreement to help were only three years seperated. The Celts have changed sides several times in the conflicts, they have simultaniously fought the Chinese with Russia and the Russians with us. Germany has fought on both sides as well. I daresay that if war comes we had best be prepared. If we are i daresay we could liberate Stockholm."
"I suppose it is so. Command the conscription of one man from each viable, starving city."
"Yes my leige." With that Ulrich stepped from the hut, remounted his horse and returned to a more modern world.
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SKILORD
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Live free or Die
Mar 2002
time: 05:24
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The crowd stood in awed silence as the two giants of Scandinavian politics faced off.
"I call for the abolition of the burguois republic and to form in it's place, the People's Republic of Scandinavia!"
Luther Chariss's supporters shouted support.
"War has gone on unhindered in this world, will the murder of your own countrymen sate you?" Ragnar calm voice doused Luther's supporters, and hushed the awed crowd.
"My freinds, my neighbors. I am a common man, much like you. I understand your feelings of anger towards the government. But will following him really put more food on the table? How selfish is it to steal from your likewise starving neighbor? Yes, moan about the rich if you will. Truth be told there is no food to be had, you are our front line against starvation, in this you are true. But there is no-one behind you."
Even Luther seemed stunned and silent in the face off this oration. Where he had brought chaos to the crowd Ragnar had brought a peaceful silence. Luther trembled, anyone can raise the proletariot into a frenzy, it takes a master to salve their wounds and calm their spirits.
Luther stammered a few more phrases, nothing original, quoting Marx. He ended with the call to the workers worldwide to unite, though he felt noone heard him, noone listened. Ragnar's giant figure had entranced them. Peace, he thought was an oddity in this world, it must be fascinating to us to see a man at total peace with himself.
-
The election was close, frighteningly so to both candidates. Ragnar won in the end. A democratic state was to be instated. Luther Chariss faced him after the election, his once firey pleas to the people had been dying down as of late, becoming only halfhearted.
Luther looked into the victor's eyes, shook his hand solemnly and wispered,
"Thank you."
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vovan
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Well, now that I have read this story, too, I'll say: this here is even better than the other one  I am not sure how you will be able to write two stories at once, though. You must have a lot of inspiration there.
Both beginnings sound very interesting though. So, seeing how each successive chapter in these two stories is shorter than the previos post you made, I'd suggest that you finish up one of them and then work on the other. I think you could do a better job that way. Once both stories are finished, we can consider them as one.
Besides, there is no need to hurry, SKILORD. I don't know about everybody else, but I would rather read one great story, and then another great story than two pretty good stories at once.
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SKILORD
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Live free or Die
Mar 2002
time: 05:24
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The Cossacks had grown tired of peace. Multitudes of soldiers marched silently, intently across the border, they ignored the screams of the farmers they murdered, they burnt the stagnant farms. Birka faced them bravely. Rifles left volly after volly embedded in dead flesh. Horse and man met their match. Russia probed again, but found Oslo too strongly garrisoned. They troops fell back, hoping for time to prepare a defense. They received no such mercy.
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The horses thundered onward to Stockholm. The word was on every excited Norse lip, grins spread like wildfire as anticipation of conquest seized a naton. The Cavalry surgically destroyed the roads and fldgling railways, they had centuries of practice behind them in the destruction of needed roads. A handfull of remaining Berserkers held their axes high and marched alongside the mounted gods of war. Stockholm.
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The walls collapsed before the cannon, a single volley found the defenders without defense, unprepared. Charge after charge lead to vistory upon victory. Retreat was not for the Viking troops today. Ulrich himself was to be found among the charging men. A flash came down on the city, a thunderclap left the Russians deafened and frightened. With shouts of "Thor" a final charge was mounted, Valkyres were imagined in every corner of the battle as countless followers of Ragnar found their way to Valhalla. More Russians made it there though. The day was held, and a Temple was quickly built, in the consuming religious fervor of the moment, and proclaimed the church of the Pantheon. A statue of Odin was found and raised high as the victorious soldiers paraded through the streets. Word came of similar conquest to the south, the liberation of Yatusk. Over many a beer was repeated:
"To Moscow!"
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SKILORD
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Live free or Die
Mar 2002
time: 05:24
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The Norsemen had secured a hold on their former lands, their teeth once again threateningly close to the Russian throat. Winter came and went, it's successors found more and more Viking bellies full, people cheered as their brothers and sons marched bravely across the Russian praries to Catherine's greatest prize. Moscow was a dark castle of power, a focal point of the Russian hemogeny that had engulfed the world since the last war's fateful end. It was surrounded now, and the Russians were learning how to starve, learning from the masters.
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A shot rang out, a cannon released it's firey cargo. Emaciated men died on the walls holding their guns. More took their place, brushing corpses aside for a chance to defend the homeland, to die a patriot, to reclaim a fading glory. Twenty brigades of Cavalry paraded around the walls, Two armies of mounted riflemen were their company, in addition to the regular Riflemen who defended the land around Moscow and the precious cannon that had been painstakingly dragged from home. The Norsemen watched callously as the walls finally fell before the cannon, biding their time for a better pinnacle to the assaualt on the starving rag of greatness.
-
It was New Years Eve. Ulrich's breath came out a frozen lump from his lungs. He watched as the fires of Moscow rose to the sky, Russian troops hurried to extinguish the blaze that cannonballs had set. The Cannon were not done though the Russians were unaware, and while they made feeble offerings of water to the inferno they were likely to meet a fate similar to the library's. Another shot came from the night outside the Russian capitail. Bloodaxe couldn't hold his men back any longer. Ulrich knew that Erik's pleas for his troops to keep their itchy fingers from scratching themselves on triggers had been at best halfhearted. The Brilliant general who had forced Russia from Stockholm was just as excited as his men. The Charge thus began. Riflemen fell, frightened before the blazing guns of riders with victory gleaming in their eyes. Moscow's defenders were put off gaurd, there was no hope in those eyes, only assurance. The second army crashed into the city from the east, and the defenders rushed, hiding behind the bodies of the fallen fellows, only to be used later likewise as a barricade. The Norse were unstoppable, blood flowed for instants in the streets of Moscow, before it froze there, embracing the city until eternity.
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SKILORD
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Live free or Die
Mar 2002
time: 05:24
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Graceful wooden ships danced among the waves. Their mighty cannons were drawn in, no Russian ship was anticipated by the longboat scouts. The Sails were rolled out regally, the wind was at their back and a plesently warm breeze caressed the sailors. The Russian coast was in veiw, the sun whipped the land savagely, Odin, from his perch as the figurehead before the Frigate watched unmercifully. A cannon boomed, the sailors cheered, another road destroyed.
Russia had lost fully half her land size. The War had been decisive and only one thing was sure, there would be little mercy. In war there seldom was, and the nations of the world knew war better than they did their neighbors.
-
The Foreign minister had been bound and gagged when he had arrived at Trondheim. He sat in a silk chair and accepted the glares of the foreigners graciously, as a worthy price for a less limited freedom. Peter had always been fascinated by foreigners, against the Tsarina's will he had often escaped for years on end to foreign capitails, where he would live in cognito as a factory worker or dockworker. He found such work gratifying, and the knowledge it revealed infinitely more interesting than anything Catherine could offer him at a desk. She had literally thrown him from Kiev, where she huddled under the shade of her winter palace, her last words had made it clear that if he did not bring home a peace, he would be abandoned to 'his beloved foreigners'. His reception did not bode well for either outcome.
"The President will see you," a clerk said, looking down his nose at the poorly clad Russian. Peter gave his most charming smile before striding with all the bravado he could muster, to the immense wooden door.
"So you are the Russian envoy?" President Lobrok asked. Peter looked futilely at this massive imposing man. His nation's worst enemy, he thought, and I have to negotiate a peace with him. Peter puffed out his chest, he had nothing to loose.
"Indeed sir, and i am here to negotiate the terms of peace, but before we begin," Peters eyes softened,"Thank you for delivering me from your people. I have heard of men lost on missions to other states, but that was my first personal experience with it."
Ragnar nodded, guestering (NB: How in heaven do you spell that?) towards the window.
"Barbaric aren't they?"
Peter was shocked, the man who ruled these people called them barabarians, apparently his astonishment was visible, ragnar looked at him and amended.
"Why i don't merely include my own people in that list. I mean mankind, Peter. Mankind is a glorified animal." Ragnar shrugged, hopeless.
"Why sir i must disagree, mankind does have it's high spots. It's rather cruel to limit us to beasts."
"Oh I admit we are capable of more. Quite so. I can see it in some of them, somemen were meant to be more. I daresay all were. I do not limit them to beasts in my speech. Mankind has limited itself in it's actions."
"I... do not understand sir," In truth he halfway did,despite the confusion Peter could tell he liked this man. Maybe we have begun to come to our senses he wondered.
"Let me explain, Since the conception of time we have been engaged in countless wars. We fought the English, or so the archaeologists claim, you warred with the spanish. For the past Five hundred years, our peoples have been at war, on and off yes, but almost always at war. The time haas come for men of Culture to reign." Ragnar pushed a signed peace treaty across the table, "Come back to my palace as often as you wish Peter. You are always welcome."
Peter grinned madly, his lessons should have taught him better but the treaty held no stipulations, no reparations.
"You are welcome," The President replied to his unspoken thanks.
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03-12-2002 03:11
Two stories at once, my word you are going to be busy !
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