TotW 131 - The Outpost - VOTE
The Outpost - The vote
Three votes per person
Submission 1Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
“It sure is quiet around here.” Sighed the sentry.
“Dammit Farah!” his companion replied. “Why must you make comments such as that whenever we are on duty? Maybe one day I will take this halberd here and stick you. Then it definitely won’t be quiet around here.”
“I’m sorry Sakhr,” replied Farah. Sakhr gave Farah a look of disbelief. “I really am. I guess I just say that in hopes that something interesting will happen. Instead, almost every day we wake up, head over to the barracks, grab our equipment, then leave Aten to head west for about a league, only to spend the rest of the day at an old wooden tower. There is nothing to see leagues around. All there is the white sand, the empty blue sky and the mountain ridge in front of us. We are guarding against a threat that will never exist. There is no threat to our beloved city of Aten, much less the Saracian Empire. There has never been a moment in time where anyone has defeated the Saracian Empire and there never will be…”
“You know with that kind of patronizing talk someone might think you love everything about the Saracian Empire.” Joked Sakhr.
“I am only admitting that no one can defeat the Saracian Empire. That does not mean I don’t want an independent Aten. I just know it will never happen. Still I wouldn’t mind if something as interesting as a rebellion occurred…”
“Don’t say things like that. You probably were not around at the time, but two decades ago there was a rebellion over at the city of Hesperos. Saracian soldiers came, defeated the rebellion. After the rebellion was over, the Saracians held mass executions in Hesperos; executing any Hesperosi they saw fit. It was utter madness.”
“What. Were you there?” scoffed Farah.
“Yes I was, and I was a soldier too who had to watch these executions take place. I hope such a thing never happens to Aten.”
The two sentries were quiet. As the silence ensued, they stared across the vast desert wasteland where at the end lay a range of mountains that extended north to south as far as the eye could see. “That reminds me Sakhr. What is over those mountains? I have never been that far away from Aten, but seeing as how you have been more than just a sentry I think you would know.”
“Over those mountains there?” Sakhr pointed. “Yes.” Replied Farah.
“From what I have heard, nothing. I think the closest settlement would be Turkara, but that is practically on the other side of the world.”
“If that is true, then who are we guarding the empire from?”
Submission 2
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:"My Friend, my last friend, let me tell you of my City", he started, "They said it was hubris to build a City here, a madness that would only infuriate those we neighboured, our forefathers demonstration to all the tribes of our water wealth whilst those who dwelt in the desert surrounding the city survived amid its arid and parched sands. But the city took shape, it's tallest tower a shining white light piercing the sky, a white finger rising from the yellow desert, stabbing into cerulean heavens pointing Man to the Gods above. Its walls built high and strong, balefully glaring out at the sands and tribes, daring them to try and overcome the walls and guards who stood sentinel".
His companion just watched him.
"I loved my city with a longing in my heart than can never be satiated, ah, to see the cool white marble piazzas, and hear the gentle drops of water in the fountains again - fountains that flowed all year in a desert! The smell of a hundred spices, innumerable fruits and sweets and the cries of the stall-holders in the markets, the sway of hips from the courtesans as they teased us men with promises of earthly delights with a flick of a veil and a subtle smile."
Still his companion watched, all attention fixed on the man.
"But it was madness to believe the water would flow forever, and in time one guard outpost stopped watching the desert and it was overrun. The stream was stopped and the water to the city flowed a little slower. Then another outpost neglected their duties, failing to watch as carefully as they should have, and yet another stream was diverted."
"Slowly but surely the city was starved of water and without water, the fountains dried up and the traders stopped coming and without traders the city's wealth trickled away as sand replaced water in the plazas and pools. The people left and now it is home to scorpions, lizards and desert tribes who stable their livestock in the palaces and mansions we once had, the height of the walls no match for the pervasive sands, entering through the smallest crack, hissing through, enlarging the cracks until they pulled the walls down."
"All gone, all forgotten and I am the last Prince of a forgotten realm, and the irony is that I'm dying of thirst within sight of my city of fountains talking to my last companion with my last breath". He grunted and coughed what little blood he had left in him, and with a last tear for perished dreams and beauty lost, the man breathed his life away in a ghostly sigh.
"Finally," thought his companion, "time for me to feed". For crows have to eat too.
Submission 3
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:“This is where we will hold them. This is where they will die. We will die defending what we love.” The Commander’s voice rang through the hillside. The wall was thirty feet broad and a hundred feet tall. It was white and made out of marble. Archers were massed beneath the walls, on the safe side. On top of the wall men-at-arms stood, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. On the ground in front of the wall, the knights stood. Men who had sworn to defend the realm, sworn to die sword in hand, not for kings or lords or city, but for the realm. The walls length was beyond counting, but for every hundred feet a trebuchet stood, casting a large and mighty shadow. They were made of wood, and suspended with iron plates were they could break. The huge counterweigh was of hard and heavy stone, giving massive velocity to the fling.
The Enemy approached with the sunlight. The early morning brought promises of a nice day, had it not been for the vultures that were gathering, overviewing the field.
“Loose!” The Commander roared again, sending a wave of arrows toward the Enemy. Many fell, more still stood. “Loose!” The same command, the same result. The Enemy was still approaching, looking hungry for blood. The sound of arrows in flight filled the vale; they hit the men-at-arms, the archers and the knights. Grisly things these arrows were, forged with evil minds. And again the swishing sound came, and again lives left the earth.
Beneath the wall, the knights in shining armor mounted their steeds. The Commander led them, his mount the greatest of them all. The Enemy was less than two hundred feet away.
“Attaaaaaaaaaack!” The Commander call sent all the knights toward the Enemy. The clashed between men and beast. Between madness and love. Then . . . a time of Peace.
Submission 4Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
1203 The Holy Land,
I watched from the walls as the Templars approached the city, after marching from the Christian outpost. Their Red crosses set on a white mantle shinning in the sun light. They were renowned fighters, respected and feared in the Holy Land, and indeed all of Christendom. There were 8 of them. 8 warriors of Christ. 8 servants of God. Pah! They are infidel, non-believes. They are nothing.
The whole city must have come out to watch them approach, for love or for fear? The mixture of Christians and Muslims in the city made it difficult to feel the overriding emotion. They carried a flag of truce yet they still looked so menacing. Time seemed to slow, as these 8 Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon approached. Even the name is misleading. Poor, they are amongst the wealthiest in the world – all because they ‘serve god’, even though it is the wrong one.
Eventually they made it towards the city, and when they were within range I gave a slight nod of my head to men on the wall knowing that something very similar was happening at the outpost – although it was as Allah willed, it felt bitter. These men came under a flag of truce, which must mean something, surely? It was too late, before I could change my mind the 16 men I had hidden on the wall this very morning withdrew their bows, hidden under their cloaks. They fixed, people were looking around at them. They aimed, people began screaming. They fired, people started running. They arc up in to the air, the light hiding them and then they arced downwards, 2 arrows striking each Templar in the chest, then madness erupted...
Submission 5Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
“Rum pah! Tah! Rum tah pah dah rum! Tah hah rum pah dah!”
With the gusto of a rock orchestra, Silvio the priest headbanged as his ass rode up to the sandstone gates.
“Bah bah dahdah bah! Da dah bah! Ta rummm tiddle tay toohay!”
The white rheums covered his once incisive eyes as they rolled with madness, his once strong hands shook with incontrollable joie de vivre as he barely managed to keep his fingers over the leather harness.
“Rahh rah rah rah rah rahh rahhhh!”
Clenching his wonky gravestone teeth, the skeletal ass bent his ears back in an attempt to block out the din, however futile he knew it to be after forever carrying Silvio. Only the strongest love of the water and purpled carrots the old freak had a knack for finding and carrying kept the priest on his hairy back.
“Bah dah tah bum bah! Bum bah bawn nah! Bom! Bah di dah!”
Crackling like an aged gramophone, the old priest swayed and shook his head round and round: it worried the ass that his charge would fall. If Silvio hurt himself there would be no more water and no more carrots for some time, unless this city of sand held any promise for an ass down on his luck.
“Tah chi chi cha cha hah! Bawwww! bawwww! Broooo-oooohhh-oooooooohhh-oooohhh!”
Patience tested to the full, the ass bucked a bit and did his best to hiss.
“Cat-hah-hee-dee-dah!”
Imperturbable in his tunelessness, the ass was sure Silvio would rouse some response from this bastion in the middle of the desert for the wandering prophet and the mind-crippled Man of God. After the last three hundred miles across ‘The Holy Land’ the ass had got some interesting ideas about Christianity he could not wait to share.
“Mwaaawww! Mwaaawww! Mah! Dah! Dah dee dee dah!”
Braying at the top of his voice, the ass was horrified to hear that his throat was cracked and he sounded nearly as demonic as Silvio himself. Surely no-one would think them anything else than desert spirits, a horrific mirage brought on by too much harsh desert wine and not enough…
“Fan-tat-raaaaa! Fa raaaa! Lotot! Whum! Whum! Whumchuck!”
This time, a man in a white cloak did come out of a gate. He had a companion with a crossbow. The ass heard words of coherence he had not for too long before.
“Kill the madman but save his ass.”
Whum. Chuck. Dee dee dah.
Submission 6
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:“Behold! Raglan! The city of Sir awesome!”Mitch shouted on the highest part of the structure.“It a fort, you dunce” Raglan shouted back. “You’re right my love, now come up here and witness the greatest sand fort of all time!” Mitch said with such pride. Raglan process to enter the fort. Crossing the sand bridge, Raglan head up to the top, where Mitch was at. The fort was very complex, Mitch -with some help Raglan- had made the fort, and it took the whole day to work on it. Raglan passed by carefully crafted rooms, pillar, and staircase such a marvel should be praise, but Raglan didn’t take notice and process to enter the roof where Mitch was at.
“Finally you’re here, do you realize what time it is?Mitch said with a chuckle.“Do you?” Raglan retorted. “Sure! I made a sun clock, look behind” Mitch said with glee. Raglan turned around and sighed. The clock pointed to 5. “Look we—“Raglan was interrupted when a sound came from below. It was Harry, Mitch older brother calling him. “Hey you twit gets my brother!” Harry sneered. “Who is making that sound?” Mitch said. “It Harry, he want you.” Raglan replied. Mitch walks to the edge to see his brother. “Wow, he looks like a white jellybean.” Mitch said to himself.
“There you are, fool. Come on out we have to go!” Harry shouted.“No, come get us!” Mitch reply. Harry grunted and called his friends. “If you don’t come out, then we’ll take you out, by force!” Harry said with a smile. “Come at us, bro! My dear Raglan prepare for battle! Get the cannons!” Mitch said with such confident. “You have five minute till you complied” Harry said. “You’re not serious are you? “ Raglan told Mitch. Mitch just pointed to the buckets which was his “cannons” Raglan sigh and began to fill up the buckets.
Five minutes past, Harry and his friends were at the bridge pounding it.“This is madness, Mitch!” “Madness, Raglan? THIS IS AWESOME! LAUNCH THE ATTACK!” Mitch and Raglan process to dump the buckets load of sand onto Harry and his friends. “AWW YOU’RE DEAD YOU HEARD ME!!!” Harry scream, then cough up sand. Minutes passed, Harry had stormed the fort and process to head up, Mitch had put defensive gates and security measure, but to no avail, as it was made of sand. Harry had now entered the roof and corners our two defenders. “Game over, fools” Harry said. “Remember the Alamo!” Mitch shouted, followed by Raglan face palming himself. But before Harry could do anything, their Mother shouted with such haste, that Harry began to head down and said to Mitch “This isn’t over buddy, now come on, you know how mom get when she is in this mood.” Mitch and Raglan smile at each other, they were save by Mitch mother, they stood around a bit to marvel at their fort and process to head back home.
Submission 7
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Your Trespasses are forgiven
The year of our Lord ~ 1167
Honorable Lord of Castel Neuf,
The time has come, God Almighty has called me into his light, his love wrapping me as a warm blanket on a cold Syrian night. After that fateful night in which I beat to death Lord Humphrey’s nephew, knowing I could never return to Toron, I took up the Cross vowing by blood never to act against my one true Lord and Savior. I know the chronicles of your Lordship and those of your vassals will never bear witness of my name or the madness that ensued when you sold my mother into slavery and I vowed to kill you. She loved you and I understand why you could not love her back, as she was beneath your title. But you sentenced her to die, for what ? convenience ?
I know your love does not transcend to my very being and for this you should forget my very existence. I do not know why you sent me here to the brother Knights and their outpost. Pity for your bastard son? It matters not, but you did save my life by smuggling me out of the city. I thanked you and cursed you at the same time.
I now understand why you sent me to this outpost of Galilee. The Order of St. John brothers have blessed me with an order from God himself to join them. I have been granted a call to join them in the campaign of the White Orchid; our mission is to ensure the care and safety of all pilgrims and to restore the Almighty’s domain to the lands of Damascus as described by St. Paul and Ananias. It is being lead by a former baron lord of Bainas. I have a new Lord now, please separate yourself from my spirit, I am free. I forgive you, my Lord. Walk in peace.
Blessed Gerard, pray for us.
Peter
Submission 8
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:The Edge of the World
The sun had retreated, the skies was filling up with dark clouds from the north and the bitter cold sliced its way into the skin of every man crazy enough to be outside. Yet there were some men, dressed in their iron armor and red cloaks, that stood guard. Without rest they scanned their area for any signs of anything unfriendly.
“By Jupiter! I would do anything to get my feets inside a warm house and a warm bed.” One of the men said.
“Shut your trap Vitellus, you won’t help the rest of us with your nagging!” an officer said.
“Just saying optio, I believe to stand here in the cold is nothing but pure madness.”
The option sighed at the soldier’s remark. He was right, that one this was sure. Yet Tullius had grown to love his new life in the north. Being posted at the most inhospitable border of the empire had seemed a dreadful task at first, but he had grown accustomed to the white snow that literally covered the land half the year.
“We’ve been far from home for a long time Vitellus, I can understand your feelings but as your officer I cannot take part of them.” Tullius told him.
“I would very much like to go home sir, but I have signed up for at least twenty years as a legionary.”
“Don’t worry Vitellus, the eternal city will wait for her sons till they return, her love for her sons is greater than any in the world, and they always return victorious.”
“Indeed sir.”
Vitellus was calm for now, shutting his mouth so that he did not upset the other legionaries at the site. Tullius stretched his back and groaned as he felt his spine adjust itself. A horn blew in the distance, quiet distinguishable, it was the sound of a Pictish war horn.
It was a cold day, one which has never been experience in Rome for eternity. Yet up in the cold north, on the borders of the empire and at the edge of the world the sons of Rome and Mars readied themselves for battle…
Good luck everyone 
