On a side note, I am just starting this because the last one is archived now. I also apologize for not posting for quite a long time.
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Chapter XIV
Decius awoke from the belonged battle quite groggy. The battlefield reeked of corpses, and flies were swarming the dead bodies.
"Wake up, Nero. We must leave this cursed place."
Cursed it seemed. Tens of thousands of people lay dead in this Cretan field. Men from every nation (except the AMBF nations). There was now no escape from this place it seemed, for there was no way the locals would trust them.
Decius assisted Nero in getting up, and they began to march South, to the inland. They were also marching past the peaks that lead to the battle that had been fought against the Cretans.
It was hard for them to walk at first, for their legs still ached from battle. The fall off of the elephant didn't help either. They both stripped their armor to help walk, leaving them with only their swords and (Roman Army style) underwear. They walked into what must have been the climax of the battle, as sometimes they had to climb over heaps of bodies.
By this time Decius' vision was fading, and Nero was completely exhausted.
"Decius, we don't have any water left. We have to find some soon."
"Any water that these soldiers possessed would have drained by now, we need to keep moving forward."
Drudging on they went, through more bodies until they finally came to an Arabian camel. At the camel, Nero fainted. Decius, fading out of consciousness, could only make out the blur of a silhouette coming to aide them.
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Awaking about ten minutes later, Decius woke up still on the battlefield.
"Thank you for helping me," said Decius in Greek.
"Don't bother with the Greek, for I am no Cretan," said the man in rather accented Latin.
"Who are you then?"
"I am a of the Iberian Elite warrior class. I barely survived this battle, as you yourself also seem to have done. Basically, I just gave you and your friend the rest of my water. We have to find more."
"What is your name?"
"Liam Mikolaus."
Waking up, everyone went in search for the nearest water source. Mikolaus was surprisingly resilient, in a manner that reminded Decius not of Samnites, but of Gauls. They passed the earlier battlefield where Cretan corpses still rotted away, except these corpses were much more gruesome. Going east into a forest, it actually did not take them long to find a creek. Supplying themselves with water, they could now continue without having to worry too much about it.
"Decius, we will have to either raid Cretan farms, for I am not sure that I want to rely on foraging, and we have no hunting equipment. Besides, I want to get a sailboat from a local town."
"That sounds quite necessary, but we still have to find out where we are going, as I do not think Cretans will have farms in the middle of forests."
Continuing on in silence, they passed through a forest that seemed to be just getting thicker and thicker. Deciding that it would not help to continue on, they suggested a different route. Now going in some direction (it all looks the same), they came across a Cretan hunter.
Taking sight of the group, the hunter ran as fast as he could to get out of there. Mikolaus let out a huge warcry, and chased after that hunter at a speed Decius didn't know was humanly possible. Catching the hunter, Mikolaus demanded he take them to the nearest town.
"I am an outcast, I cannot take you to town!"
"You can at least show us the way, then pray that we don't disembowel your bowels for not cooperating!"
"Fine, I will take you to the town. But be warned, the people will not welcome you."
"WHY NOT?!?"
"Because they don't trust outsiders anymore. All of these villages are isolated from one another. There is no centralized kingdom. I don't know if you know this, but some of your German friends thought they might enjoy it if they sacked the capital. Knossus was sacked so bad it cannot be rebuilt. It will take decades for this kingdom to reco-"
"I do not care about your little dramas now, just show me the way to your town."
The outlaw took them to a nearby road. Along the way, they were being watched by outlaw hunters, but the outlaw waved them off. The path soon emerged into a moderately sized town, at which the outcast would go no further.
"Fine then, leave now," said Mikolaus.
Marching down the streets of the town alienated the group. Everywhere they went they were met by resentful sneers, but for some reason the villagers did not attack. The town hall was easy to find, and the group entered.
"Who do we have here?" asked the apparent leader of the hall.
"We are outsiders, we need a way home," replied Decius.
"And why should we help you? You have just destroyed whatever our people have, we might never recover."
"Then wouldn't you want to get rid of us?"
"I don't care whether or not I am rid of you, I care whether or not you are alive. Now leave this hall at once, before we will have to "escort" you out!"
And with that the group left for now, still wondering where they could go where people wouldn't kill them.
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It's not much, but Iwill update it more often.
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Cattle die, kinsmen die, the self must also die. I know one thing that never dies: the fate of the honored dead. Hávamál, Gestaţáttr, #77.
Decius awoke from the belonged battle quite groggy. The battlefield reeked of corpses, and flies were swarming the dead bodies.
"Wake up, Nero. We must leave this cursed place."
Cursed it seemed. Tens of thousands of people lay dead in this Cretan field. Men from every nation (except the AMBF nations). There was now no escape from this place it seemed, for there was no way the locals would trust them.
Decius assisted Nero in getting up, and they began to march South, to the inland. They were also marching past the peaks that lead to the battle that had been fought against the Cretans.
It was hard for them to walk at first, for their legs still ached from battle. The fall off of the elephant didn't help either. They both stripped their armor to help walk, leaving them with only their swords and (Roman Army style) underwear. They walked into what must have been the climax of the battle, as sometimes they had to climb over heaps of bodies.
By this time Decius' vision was fading, and Nero was completely exhausted.
"Decius, we don't have any water left. We have to find some soon."
"Any water that these soldiers possessed would have drained by now, we need to keep moving forward."
Drudging on they went, through more bodies until they finally came to an Arabian camel. At the camel, Nero fainted. Decius, fading out of consciousness, could only make out the blur of a silhouette coming to aide them.
Awaking about ten minutes later, Decius woke up still on the battlefield.
"Thank you for helping me," said Decius in Greek.
"Don't bother with the Greek, for I am no Cretan," said the man in rather accented Latin.
"Who are you then?"
"I am a of the Iberian Elite warrior class. I barely survived this battle, as you yourself also seem to have done. Basically, I just gave you and your friend the rest of my water. We have to find more."
"What is your name?"
"
Waking up, everyone went in search for the nearest water source. Mikolaus was surprisingly resilient, in a manner that reminded Decius not of Samnites, but of Gauls. They passed the earlier battlefield where Cretan corpses still rotted away, except these corpses were much more gruesome. Going east into a forest, it actually did not take them long to find a creek. Supplying themselves with water, they could now continue without having to worry too much about it.
"Decius, we will have to either raid Cretan farms, for I am not sure that I want to rely on foraging, and we have no hunting equipment. Besides, I want to get a sailboat from a local town."
"That sounds quite necessary, but we still have to find out where we are going, as I do not think Cretans will have farms in the middle of forests."
Continuing on in silence, they passed through a forest that seemed to be just getting thicker and thicker. Deciding that it would not help to continue on, they suggested a different route. Now going in some direction (it all looks the same), they came across a Cretan hunter.
Taking sight of the group, the hunter ran as fast as he could to get out of there. Mikolaus let out a huge warcry, and chased after that hunter at a speed Decius didn't know was humanly possible. Catching the hunter, Mikolaus demanded he take them to the nearest town.
"I am an outcast, I cannot take you to town!"
"You can at least show us the way, then pray that we don't disembowel your bowels for not cooperating!"
"Fine, I will take you to the town. But be warned, the people will not welcome you."
"WHY NOT?!?"
"Because they don't trust outsiders anymore. All of these villages are isolated from one another. There is no centralized kingdom. I don't know if you know this, but some of your German friends thought they might enjoy it if they sacked the capital. Knossus was sacked so bad it cannot be rebuilt. It will take decades for this kingdom to reco-"
"I do not care about your little dramas now, just show me the way to your town."
The outlaw took them to a nearby road. Along the way, they were being watched by outlaw hunters, but the outlaw waved them off. The path soon emerged into a moderately sized town, at which the outcast would go no further.
"Fine then, leave now," said Mikolaus.
Marching down the streets of the town alienated the group. Everywhere they went they were met by resentful sneers, but for some reason the villagers did not attack. The town hall was easy to find, and the group entered.
"Who do we have here?" asked the apparent leader of the hall.
"We are outsiders, we need a way home," replied Decius.
"And why should we help you? You have just destroyed whatever our people have, we might never recover."
"Then wouldn't you want to get rid of us?"
"I don't care whether or not I am rid of you, I care whether or not you are alive. Now leave this hall at once, before we will have to "escort" you out!"
And with that the group left for now, still wondering where they could go where people wouldn't kill them.
It's not much, but I
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Cattle die, kinsmen die, the self must also die. I know one thing that never dies: the fate of the honored dead. Hávamál, Gestaţáttr, #77.