Thread:Travian Sackett/@comment-25344655-20160220041845

==Chapter 2: Glosur the wise. == Glosur led them across the palace, into a room which while having a bed for him to sleep in, clearly was littered with strategic items like maps and a round object with two rods across it, every once and a while, one would tick. Bowen wondered how it worked and Glosur seemed to have read his thought.

“Simple. We have thought of a way to keep track of time, dividing the time into twelve ‘hours’ and those into minutes. Water is transported from the surface, and turns gears, every time a gear turns twenty times, a minute has passed, and the clock moves. Easy really. Now I will ask again, who are you, why are you here?”

Galmor spoke up, in a funny tone.

“For an immortal being, you are quite paranoid.”

Glosur simply shrugged, to which Galmor rolled his eyes.

“He is Bowen Sackett, heir to the Kingdom of the Aldri Vales. As tradition he has travelled through the plains of the Roh, home to the horse-lords.

Glosur nodded, remembering and understanding. As they spoke, a large explosion was heard, and chips of rock fell from the roof. Glosur looked around in a stunned shock, then proceeded to run into another room, after about five minutes of stunned confusion, Glosur came out, donned in intricate metal armor, the helmet was by far the strangest part of the armor. It  had a facemask that sent chills down the spine of Bowen, the facemask itself seemed to be made of strong hardened steel with chainmail protecting his neck. He drew the sword at his side, now showing to be equally decorated. It’s blade was so silver it seemed to give off a light of its own. He looked at Galmor and Bowen.

<span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Dammit! Siege! You two, stay here.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">He shot off, soon after, a large bell was heard, a large bronze bell echoed through the city, a deep bell that while not loud, travelled far and probably was heard everywhere. Bowen looked at Galmor.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Well, let’s go!” said Bowen, seemingly getting the courage to pick up one of the spare swords in the room.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Oh no. You are staying right here, this is the safest place for you.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Stay here then. I am going to help!”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Without warning, Bowen sprinted out, nothing but a steel sword in hand. Galmor had no choice  but to follow. He picked up another sword and stared at it. Remembering the fateful day where the rebellion was quenched. Quickly realising he was standing there he as well ran out to find Bowen. He decided to check the most obvious choice, the Gate. As he approached, he saw a sight he never thought he would see. He saw the great valley starting to burn, the entrance to the valley was already blown open, and spread fire through the trees already dry from the summer. He watched as thousands of soldiers marched through the now widened tunnel, carrying with them great siege engines of war and hatred. Two of the watchtowers already burned in the distance, the others would soon fall. The worst thing was, no one knew what enemy this was, or how they were able to sneak up on us like this. It was not a resistless fight however, the gates of Kheled-Arnin opened, and out marched a large number of Union forces. The two powers marched towards each other. Galmor saw Glosur leading the Union corps forces into the fray. He raised his sword, and large ballistae on the battlements fired at the siege equipment. Flaming bolts slammed into the wooden catapults and trebuchets, which, while starting more fires, also destroyed most of the equipment, save some that were coated in metal. He looked through a telescope at the armies. So, as he looked on helpless, like a man looking at ants through a magnifying glass. The two forces started to charge, both equally furious, both willing to take no prisoners. The sky at this point was black from the sheer amount of smoke and ash rising up. Galmor watched in horror and helplessness as the two forces finally clashed. It happened in slow motion for him. Soldiers attempting to stop the sheer momentum of their run as they slammed into pikes or spears.

==<span style="font-size:21.333333333333332px;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Chapter 3: The siege of the Silver Citadel. ==

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The battle was a nightmare. The sky was black with smoke and the ground was red with fire and frenzy. Gleaming armor tarnished with blood and soot. Trenches and defenses rendered useless from the shear forces of the enemy. From the battlements Galmor watched, hopeless. Bowen was still nowhere to be found, and it was clear Galmor had to continue the search. Slowly, he climbed into the horror, making sure to stay behind friendly lines. He looked for the lad he had set out to protect.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Bowen was crazy, he knew this. But he had to help out. He couldn’t just sit and watch the entire thing happen. He equipped himself with some chainmail and rushed into the battle. But he didn’t understand even the basics of combat training. The first soldier he ran across had disarmed him and cut a large gash into his left shoulder. He had to run behind two soldiers. Now he was lost, and he couldn’t find his way back. The Smoke was so thick and fires so broad it seemed the world itself was opening up to the gates of hell. He had been walking for what seemed like hours now. Then a sheer pain hit his side, as he fell to the ground. He looked down, and saw the shaft of a spear, in his right side, and a soldier dressed in a blood coated suit of armor. Bowen couldn’t move, only watch as death approached. As  the soldier looked at him with eyes so evil and heartless, they could be the eyes of a dragon. Just as he raised his sword to bowen, a figure came out and tackled him. Galmor. He took the soldier to the dirt, creating a cloud out of the dry flaky dirt. Galmor took up a sword, and fought valiantly; in that battle he was no longer seventy, he was the twenty-seven year old general once more. Galmor turned and looked at Bowen, his eyes saying only one thing: Run. Just after, a long sword protruded from his chest, putting him to his knees. Bowen ran, it didn’t matter where he was going, he just wanted to leave.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Glosur looked out over the valley from the charred remains of Numena, a smaller city outside the main fortress. He saw his first unit of bowmen routed, and knew the others would fall suit, so he did something he never thought he would do, he sounded a retreat. He raised and blew a horn that echoed throughout the valley.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Fall back! Fall back to the stronghold! Fall back!”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Union soldiers turned and ran, hoping to flee as the great gates were creaking shut, they jumped and tripped over their fallen brothers. Their numbers were just too great to face on an open field. The soldiers poured in to defend the city. The gates closed, getting almost everyone in. So the siege began. The fires still raging in the entire valley, the enemy set up outside. They didn’t touch the gate, they couldn’t. But neither did the Union have the strength to push at them. Glosur sat in his palace with Bowen, both staring sadly at the strategic map Glosur had dug out. A general walked into the room.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Just in time. Bowen, meet Farnin, a general of mine.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Bowen gave a sad nod of introduction. Farnin put his hands behind his back and stared at the map.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“What have we got.” Proclaimed Farnin, his beard almost making it seem like his mouth didn’t move at all.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Well, the enemy have deep red banners, with some sort of Iron crown on it. It is quite crudely made. The armor is decent, however they rely heavy on ‘rush’ tactics, using heavy cannon-fodder, with elites to back them up.” proclaimed Glosur, drawing a rough depiction of the banner. Bowen shuddered, thinking about the soldier that attacked him.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Perhaps the empire of the Far Eraseen? They have an army quite like this.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Indeed plausible. For now what he have to worry about is driving them back, they have taken the valley, this is more than any army has done since the ages of old.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“I agree. I believe if we pull out our cavalry, hit them hard, then back them up with some elite shock infantry from the Arnin infantry regiment, I believe we can do just that.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Bowen had no idea about any of this. He was still in a form of daze as he stumbled over to the balcony that overlooked the gate. An area that when they entered held so much light now only saw the battlefield. Glosur and Farnin decided to perform a sneak attack.

==<span style="font-size:21.333333333333332px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Chapter 4: The turning of the tide. == <p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">As the moon rose over the now charred valley, torches were seen around Kheled-arnin, quiet archers climbed onto the battlements, dressed in black cloaks, they took aim on the invaders below.

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