The wait at Ardashirshahr

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Osman Shahanshah
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The wait at Ardashirshahr

Post by Osman Shahanshah »

An autumnal breeze swept gently between the marble columns of the Fire Temple of the city of Ardashirshahr. A white clad mobad with a broom was diligently sweeping the dead leaves in the courtyard into more manageable piles. In Babkha the monsoons would be battering Báatharz and Shahzamin. In Kamalshahr the heat would be unbearable, but in Kamalshahr the heat was always unbearable. Ardashirshahr however was cool and crisp. In the mornings there were frosts, and the leaves turned brown and died on the branches. There were many oak trees, birch, confier, ash, willow, in Ardashirshahr but if it wasn't for those the city with its minarets and spires would seem as if a mischevous giant had plucked it up from the sands of Eura and deposited it in the most unlikely of places - a temperate and green land alongside a mighty river. The river had charmed the Babkhan ancestors of the current inhabitants of the city. The mighty Elwynn, one of the greatest rivers on the face of Micras. For men raised in the desert fastness of Babkha it was a revelation and after the destruction their war against the elves had wraught in the alien forest was it not natural that the river with its cool pure and refreshing water would not have attracted their parched throats? Here they had built their city, as fine as any their cousins in Babkha could build, and constructed a mighty dam that gave hydroelectric power to an entire continent. How natural then again that the enemies of Ahura Mazda, the devotees of the Lie would seek to destroy this singular beauty and more than that kill every Babkhan or ethnic Ardashirian they could find. For this reason the Ardashirians had invited back Ardashir, now Shahanshah of their Babkhan cousins, to defend the city whose destruction was the stated aim of their enemies, mages, elves, anarchists, Anticans. The list was endless of all the druj, confederates of Ahriman and the corruption. However the regiment of Babkhan and Ardashirian volunteers that had assemble at Ardashirshahr was confident of victory. The feats of the liberators of Jaris and the defenders of Acre would be emulated in splendid style.However in the meantime there was nothing to do but wait, and tour the sites. So it came to pass that two figures walked pass the sweeping mobad into the courtyard of the fire temple."I swear sayyid I will never grow acustomed to the accursed creatures."The Shahanshah, in his red uniform lavishly embroidered with gold thread that signified his position as Amir of the Elwynnese militia, smiled benignly at the bald and unusually pale skined sotvam, a random aide who had somehow found his way from Terre d'Riches to Elwynn. Probably thrown in with the baggage by mistake."I shouldn't worry yourself. There are no dragons between here and Shirekeep and if it is true the Anticans have come ashore they will be busy down river."The pale sotvam bridled slightly"No sotvam I mean the accursed horned ones - creatures of the lie ridden through the streets by the unbelievers. These 'stags'."Careful now lad," Ardashir replied reprovingly "It so happens that you are talking to the founder of the Order of the Dead Stagg. But I'll let that pass. Have you seen the rhinoceros?""Aye, sayyid, she is a fearsome one.""That then should tell us something about the man brave enough to ride her. Our allies are worthy men. However we should not let this blind us to the peril of our situation. An enemy besets us from all sides and this place is his innevitable point of convergence. They would siege us in this city. Yet we have a trump card. Now sotvam, be a good lad and take down this order. '500 men to be chosen from the regiment for special assigment. Duty, defend dam and integrate it into the defence of the city and Elwynn. Special measures I shall communicate in private to those concerned. Remainder to keep to their billets and post in city, on day notice for immediate march if called for.' Got all that?"

Kaiser Yarad I
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Re: The wait at Ardashirshahr

Post by Kaiser Yarad I »

Ardashir’s tete-a-tete with his aide was interrupted by the bellowing of stags in the near distance. This was accompanied by the merry sound of way being forcibly made, as the good citizens of Ardashirshahr, both Elwynnese and Ardashirians, leapt, jumped or were forced out of the path of a fearsome horde whose steeds struck awe and fear into the heart of anyone sensible enough to know extraordinarily large stags when one saw them.The Order of the Dead Stagg rode quite alive stags, but bigger even than your average sixteen-pointer. There was more elk in these deer than normal, perhaps, or the Orderites had fed them something odd. Each of them stood as high as the average draught horse, with deep chests and booming stag-calls, which reverberated through the city, disturbing the tranquil autumn peace. The thunder of their passage rattled the glass in the windows, and their antlers threatened to impale anyone incautious enough to lean out of a low window to view the passing riders.To top it all off, the gigantic column of stag-riders was led by the rhinoceros clad in steel armour that a siege tower would be envious of, and upon this great beast rode a figure clad all in gold, or so it seemed. His armour was actually only overlaid with bronze, and decorated with leaping stags and in the middle of the breastplate, a fire-breathing rhino. The man was not especially tall, but with the breeze of the Order’s passsage whipping his strangely golden hair into a frenzy and his eyes flashing, he seemed larger than his body.Standing up from his saddle on the beast’s neck, Zirandorthel vaulted to the ground. Perzoxx lumbered to a halt, blowing steam from her nostrils, the standard on her back waving slightly as she slowed. He landed next to Ardashir and the sotvam, a bright smile on his face. But there was always the guarded look in the man’s eyes, a look that warned those who saw him not to trust him completely. Something in every person’s soul said: This man is not real, he has something dangerous inside of him, trust him not at all.“We have created quite a stir in your city, old chum,” he chortled, taking in the crowds of frightened and amazed spectators with a greedy eye, the gaze of a showman viewing his adoring fans, “As it is, I’m afraid I’ll have to demand that the Orderites remain celibate during this little foray, otherwise old Ardashirshahr will be quite infested with little Staglings, if you’ll pardon the expression.” He grinned at this, as was his wont. Looking at the nervous sotvam with a critical eye, he turned again to Ardashir. “Apologies for not coming to see you before, but I had a bit of trouble getting the Glenfidditch boys out of their Orderhall, they had this odd notion you were coming to fetch them yourself, and quite refused to accompany me as Preceptor of the Order after you, the Grand Master. Ridiculous behaviour. I nearly had to make an example of them, but they got word that the Hunters of the Stag would be fighting with us. Then everything changed. It was miraculous to see. I suppose there’s still the mentality among the Orderites that the Hunters of the Stag….I don’t know, but it’s interesting. Anyway, we’re here now, so where do you want us?”

Osman Shahanshah
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Re: The wait at Ardashirshahr

Post by Osman Shahanshah »

“Zirandorthel!” Exclaimed Ardashir; mildly impressed by the entrance he had made he was still a little disdainful of the showiness of it all, “No one else would ever have the effrontery to ride a rhinoceros quite so wantonly as you do. Now my friend we are glad to have you with us.” The Shahanshah looked to his left and saw the uncertain Sotvam still standing there, eyes full of fear and locked upon the armoured horn of the rhinoceros. “You still here? I thought I gave you an order to deliver.” The Sotvam, remembering that there are things in this life more terrifying than rhinoceroses, salaamed hurriedly and turned tail to flee from the courtyard.“So that’s an impressive little beast you’ve got there. Why bolt a gatling gun to her side… she is a she I assume … and she could mow down an Antican legion in one charge. You’ll have to let me take her for a ride sometime old chap.” Perzoxx snorted fiercely at that suggestion. “Anyway,” the Shahanshah continued, if you chaps would like to tether your animals up here, I’ll take the senior members of the Order somewhere for their rest and recreation. Oh and don’t worry yourself with any celibacy nonsense, once this war is over I suspect a baby boom will be rather necessary.”“So where will you be taking us then?” Beamed the irrepressible and unsettlingly youthful Zirandorthel, who looked so youthful in fact that if it wasn’t for the fact he could cleave their heads off with a single blow most bartenders would ask him for some form of identification, “Some smoky beer-cellar full of buxom wenches no doubt, you old sot!”“Better than that,” smiled Ardashir, his face wizened and pockmarked by a near eternity of overindulgence “but you’ll need a change of clothes. I don’t think suits of armour are covered by the dress code.” The Lycurgus was a club in Ardashirshahr that was popular with the Babkhan officers who had come to Elwynn to serve in the regiments raised by the Osman Shahanshah for the defence of the barony and its Ardashirian minority and their golden dinars were eagerly sought by the native Elwynnese who ran the clubs, bars and taverns of the city. The entertainment in the Lycurgus tended toward adult fare, and "Booze" was central to the experience. The establishment itself was a glittering place, decorated in silver, art, and glass. The decor alone was worth the price of admittance. It was a total experience.As the steady stream of swarthy Babkhan officers in red or khaki tunics worn together with black trousers and shoes made of the finest camel leather filed in through the discrete side entrance of the club, pausing only to hand their trench coats to the Mondesian cretin who staffed the cloakroom, there was always a 'cigarette girl' dressed in a short skirt, toting a tray with various brands of cigars and cigarettes, and very often a 'camera girl' was also in attendance. Waiters, dressed in tuxedos, served up exotic-looking drinks. A frankly alarming cocktail of Treesian Red, Baracãoan rum, Kumaran cream and soda was especially popular amongst the junior officers. There were chorus lines of luscious beauties, and bands that could make the music come alive. No self respecting Babkhan officer would remain in the club long before seductively glad girls and – shameful to relate – boys and eunuchs also of ill repute would begin to accost them, offering a good time – for a price of course. However the Babkhans had no attachments, money to spend and nothing to loose. The raucous crowd in the club played fast and loose with their morals as the Champagne Mercier flowed. Above all, there was an electric atmosphere that said something wonderful was happening.Well, there would be any other night. That night however, news had just begun to filter through of an Antican landing at Musica and that the annual burning of that unfortunate city had begun. The only consolation had been that the city really belongs to Yardistan, and that was no more than a slight one. The greatly feared and mistrusted dragons from the Halluci unit, which had been nicknamed the ‘Gods & Monsters Brigade’ by wags in the Elwynnbrigaden, were rumoured to have been dispatched south to sow fire and death in the hearts of the invaders. No report of their progress had yet been heard and the mood in the club was growing ugly. In the enclosed VIP area sat Ardashir, Zirandorthel and the Order of the Dead Stagg carousing boisterously as waiters tuxedoed sauntered between tables carrying urgently required refills of vintage port, champagne, Tománn whiskey and Treesian Red. The group, the top thirty of the order, were dressed in their full ceremonial regalia, with their distinctive stag head and antlers headgear. Some of the more tired and emotional orderites were already mock rutting contests, battering their numb skulls against each other, except in one instance where the charge went askance and very nearly skewered a tall platinum blonde Zemlyan waitress, who in shock fell backwards on to the lap of a seated orderite and was for various reasons unable to rise again from there for some considerable period of time afterwards.“So my friend,” asked Zirandorthel “I had asked earlier in the day, though I am not sure if this is the same day, where you wanted us. My thanks for the drinks and the meal and…” Zirandorthel looked across at the Zemlyan waitress only now patting down her skirt and walking back towards the kitchens “the other entertainments and diversions, but are you any closer to a decision?”“Zirry, Zirry,” slurred Ardashir, his eyes loosing their focus but none of the malevolence “old chap, old buddy, old pal. I need you here by my side through thick and thin and all that. You knows what I hears about these Dankicans… Anticans… Antiphams… you know the ones… the bastards… you know what I hear? Tanks and artillery. I thought I was going to be beating up primitives but now I have a mesh… mesh? Mech… mechanised army to deal with and frankly no magician is going to stop them advancing north from Musica. We need your cavalry old chap, if our infantry can somehow grind down the enemy tanks your stags are going to have to deliver the coup de grace, the killer charge. But they’ll never manage that with swords and lances. Once I’ve slept this off, come round and see me at the barracks and I will issue whatever rifles we have spare to your men.” Summary: Ardashir is keeping the Order of the Dead Stagg together with the RSR and planning to issue the orderites with rifles.

Kaiser Yarad I
Posts: 463
Joined: Tue Sep 20, 2005 12:47 pm

Re: The wait at Ardashirshahr

Post by Kaiser Yarad I »

An upstairs room, the LycurgusWith an effort, and a noise that sounded suspiciously like tearing fabric, Zirandorthel forced his eyes open. Sleep had filmed them together. With the back of a drink-sticky hand (at least he hoped it was drink) he wiped away the rest of the crust surrounding his eyelids. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains of the room where it appeared he had spent the night. He attempted to roll over, and met resistance in the form of a body. “Oh gods, have I already killed someone?” he grumbled to himself, and then smiled grimly at the concept of sharing a bed with the corpse of your recently-deceased enemy. But the warmth of the body and the lack of blood soaking the bedclothes reassured him as to last night’s activities. He prodded the back he could almost make out through his sleep-rimed eyes.The face and torso that rolled over to look at him were thankfully female, at least with such an abundance of talent he’d managed to make an appropriate choice. “Whe…,” he choked, then started again, “Where you from?” The girl answered in an accent as familiar to Zirandorthel as his….very familiar anyway, “Halberdshire.” Zirandorthel groaned inwardly, but outwardly he smiled. “Keeping it in the family, anyway. How much did I say I’d give you?” “I’m not a whore, my lord,” the girl spat, sounding viciously insulted. Then she softened. “You said you’d give me all the towers of Failti and make me your wife.” The golden-haired warrior groaned outwardly this time, and cupped his face in his hands. Not this again. “I’m not that man, I’m his…brother.” That would do for this girl, she didn’t need to know about star-people cloning her Ard-Baron and infusing him with a daemon’s essence while the genuine article spent the best part of two years working in a salt mine. Not even Zirandorthel needed to know that, for Aeon’s sake. No, the easy half-truth would be enough for this lass. “Yes, so how about I get you something as an aide-memoir and I’ll send you a carrier pigeon some time?” The girl sniffed, pointing to something on the floor, “A new dress might be nice.” Going up on his elbows, Zirandorthel noted the ruin of her dress that lay in sad tatters on the dirty floorboards. “Oh…fair enough.”The Šâhvârbiše Barracks, ArdashirshahrStill nursing a vicious hangover, Zirandorthel strode down the empty street towards where his Orderites had been bunked. A few suffering heads littered the streets, many stag-helmeted warriors lay in gutters or were just lurching out of houses surrounding the barracks. All but a few, upon seeing the golden-haired Preceptor, hailed or saluted him. Those who didn’t were in too bad a state. Some days Zirandorthel pleaded, actually prayed on bended knee, for a proper regiment or militia. Managing a semi-religious order made up of fanatics in funny hats got a mite frustrating at times.He stepped into the barracks building, and instantly regretted it. You wouldn’t think that a standard military operation like the issuing of rifles would be too noisy, but you’d be wrong. The air was filled with shouts and whoops that were inaudible outside the thick walls but rang like sirens inside. The natural inclination of the Orderites, when given a firearm, was to fire it recklessly into the air. A trait inherited from their Ardashirian cousins and neighbours perhaps, Zirandorthel mused. They had to be dissuaded from this course by the patient officers of the RSR and the few Brothers who were bright enough to qualify for the officer rank in Zirandorthel’s command, who also had to instruct the dimmer Orderites in their new weapon’s use. Zirandorthel, his hangover grumbling angrily and kicking at the sides of his head, decided to leave them to it and headed straight through the armoury out to the stables.Here, at least, there was peace, even if the smell was much, much worse. Stags leave more fragrant dung than your average horse, as they have not yet had the necessity to mark territory bred out of them, nor did the Dead Stagg Order intend to do so. For most of the year, the stags were carefully brought back to their individual territories, all over Elwynn and Brookshire, to breed and to fight off the uppity males who would’ve come along to protect their harems in their absence. The Dead Stagg Order, contrary to their name, were not interested in killing stags. Not a bit of it.Most magnificently smelly of all, of course, was Perzoxx, who had had three stallsconverted into an area for herself. Her attendants left her her fodder when her back was turned and ran away as soon as possible. An unlucky few stablehands had found out what happened if the great beast actually saw you in front of her. Zirandorthel had already had to sign a few payment slips from what was being rapidly nicknamed the “Squash Fund” to the boys’ unlucky families. At the moment she was chewing contentedly, only stamping or snorting occasionally from boredom than rage. Her fearsome armour lay over in another stall, its stag decorations glimmering in the torchlight.Zirandorthel vaulted her stall’s wall and walked over to her side. In appearance she was almost exactly like his old steed, Trixie III, and so she should, as that venerable beast had been her dame. Her sire was one of the rhinoceros bulls brought from Babkha originally after the Crusade, Dubhgiolla Mor, whose name, Big Black Lad, was more a description than a moniker. She was of good stock, taken especially from the rhino-breeding stables at Failti. She would also actively try to eat anyone except Zirandorthel who came this close to her.“Dia dhuit, mo chailin beag,” he said. Treesian was not his native tongue anymore than any language on Micras was, but it amused him to address this creature of Babkhan ancestry in this language. “I’m very tired today, so I’m going to sleep in the straw over there. Try not to crush me, and give me a wake-up call if anyone comes along. Ceart go leor?” The rhino squinted at him, and seemed to nod. If you’re looking for something, it’s easy to find it. Perzoxx always understood him. So few others did. Zirandorthel settled himself in the straw, and dreamt of battles. What a man could do with three-thousand thoroughbred stags, a rhinoceros, a few thousand rifles, and a battle plan. Smiling like a pleased child, the golden-haired Preceptor was soon snoring.Summary: The Order of the Dead Stagg are being issued with their rifles. The wait is on... Edited by: Kaiser Yarad I at: 10/8/05 16:20

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