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Her kommer utvisnings hammeren!

Join date : 2010-07-17
Posts : 193

PostSubject: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Sun Aug 15, 2010 11:04 pm

I wrote this orriginally for an online writing class in the spring. I rewrote it, basically doubling it's length. I need a better name, but have no clue what. Anyway, enjoy.



Herife blocked the sword with his shield and then drove his spear into the Koratian soldier’s heart. Herife bashed his sword into a soldier who was about to step onto the city’s ramparts. The soldier fell to his death, knocking a few more off the ladder and then slamming into a fellow soldier.

He fought on, slaying soldiers left and right. Merian, a great friend of Herife’s, was next to him and fending off the soldiers just as well. Both men had lost the other soldiers in their section, but both held their ground.

Herife bashed another Koratian with the edge of his shield. Herife never faltered when the arrow pierced his chest. He fought on and slew three more, before the next one buried itself in his chest.

When Herife finally faltered, he did not rise again. He slew over forty from the time the first arrow was lodged in his chest. Merian was thrown into a frenzy with the death of Herife.

The battle ended within the next half hour, a sad time for a great soldier to die. Herife was born on his shield to his burial plot. He never left his shield.

Vlad kept quiet as Nala, Renese and Duncan ran past. They were playing a game called hide and seek. The sounds of battle raged, but the kids were all confident that the city was safe. The game was better when all the kids of the city played, but their parents would not let them come out with the city being under siege.

It was Nala who finally found Vlad, well after the battle was over. Nala was always so sweet. Her brown hair was always in a neat ponytail. Vlad thought it would look better down. Her hail was sacred to her, she would not allow anyone to touch it.

As they gathered before going home, Duncan’s father approached the kids with a solemnly look on his face. At least one of the fourteen had lost a father.

“Vlad, Merian wishes to speak with you. Follow me son,” Leon, Duncan’s father, said.

Vlad followed silently behind Leon. Nala tried to follow, but Leon gave her a stern look telling her to leave like the others had.

Merian was in the infirmary. He had received an injury on his right shoulder. Vlad guessed stab, since Merian’s armor should have deflected a slash. Plus the blood on the virgin dressing was more circular than a line.

“Vlad, as you probably guessed, you father had died. I will tell you more when you are older, but for now, you should know he died honorably. Six arrows pierced his chest, yet he still fought on. I can see you do not want to talk now, and I understand. As I said, we will talk when you are older,” Merian stated.

Vlad was led out of the infirmary by Leon. They stopped at the door to let others in. Nala’s eyes locked with Vlad. They were filled with compassion. Vlad looked back as they walked and saw Nala’s mother embracing Merian. Nala’s gaze again locked with Vlad’s. She could care less that her father was injured; all she cared about was Vlad.

That was all Vlad thought about on the way to Herife’s grave, Nala and the other girls. They all had crushes on him because of his hair. It was pitch black with a strip of white, an inch wide, straight down the center of his head. That was when he began to hate his hair. He wanted to disappear, but his hair would not let him.

During the funeral, Vlad noticed that his main friends were there with their families. All their fathers were great friends of his. Yes, there were other people around, but none would bring their kids and Vlad even caught a few with disgusted looks on their faces at the sight of kids being here.

Vlad ran hard and almost slipped and slid into the side of a house as he turned the corner. The guards were no were in sight, but they could be heard. This time, the thief was not Vlad. He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Although, to the guards’ and merchant’s credit, things had a way of disappearing when Vlad was around. At fourteen, he was a master thief.

Vlad could get anything he wanted, pick any lock and hide from any guards. He specialized in fruit, not jewelry, with the occasional slit purse. Vlad would not take the whole pure, just cut the top and slip a coin out.

The only merchant who loved Vlad was Seglid, the purse merchant. When times were slow, he would pay Vlad to go and cut peoples purses. Vlad never took coins then, for Seglid was paying him.

Vlad’s main tool was his Sgian Dubh, a three inch fixed bladed knife concealed near his armpit. He also was armed with tools for lock picking. Vlad slipped out of hiding and proceeded to meet with the other boys.

Duncan, Leonidous, Jedidia, Perivian, Alexander and Vlad were the best of friends. They were often seen together. The others were all fallowing in their father’s footsteps and joining the guard. Since his father’s funeral, Vlad had decided not to join. The more he got asked to join, the more resentful of the guard he became.

“What was it this time Vlad,” came a voice from behind him.

Vlad whipped around and saw Nala standing there with a bucket of food from the market on her hip.

“This time it was not me, it was Jersi the jeweler who got robbed, not me,” Vlad replied. “Oh, course I had to be in the market legitimately trying to purchase stuff for my mother. I guess I need to head back and get them.”

“Carry this to my house and I will accompany you. I need to get more food anyway,” Nala suggested.

Vlad set the food in Nala’s kitchen. It took another few minutes to explain why he was dropping off the food and then Nala and Vlad headed back to the market. Nala gave him plenty of looks, as he kept surveying the market. Vlad was not looking for something to sneak off with, but for the person responsible for stealing from Jersi. With Vlad back, he would probably try again.

That was the only reason the guards and merchants liked Vlad, he kept the streets clean of thief. Watching out for Vlad was easier than watching out all the time.

Vlad spotted a man slip an object from the table Vlad had just passed. He was a stranger to the city and as Vlad recalled, had been around the market all day. Nala shot him another look as he walked over to the man, but he shot her a look that told her to relax. Four guards saw Vlad moving towards the man and began to edge towards Vlad.

Vlad’s fingers moved fast as he slipped past. He had the object firmly in his hand. It was a small jewelry bag for earrings and such. Vlad held it out so the guards could see what he had removed. They were fully aware at this point that he was doing their job and catching a thief.

Vlad was less discrete this time and he removed the stolen Jewelry from earlier. Vlad almost got punched, but the guards stepped in and dragged the man off to jail. Vlad handed the jewelry bag to the merchant and then walked over to Jersi and handed him the necklaces which had been stolen. Jersi shook his head and apologized to Vlad, who accepted it.

Nala was smiling and shaking her head as he walked back to her. “I do not get how you do it,” she said as he walked up.

“It is a gift,” Vlad replied. “I earn what I take by keeping others from stealing.”

Nala chuckled and shook her head. They continued their shopping and then headed home. Dinner
was a few hours away. Vlad was instructed to get dressed in nicer cloths because they were going out that night.

“Merian’s right,” Vlad said.

“You should not be distracting Nala while she is doing her chores,” Vlad’s mother, Isia, scolded.

“I was not, Jersi got robbed and they blamed it on me...” Vlad launched into the story, which by the end left his mother smiling.

A few hours later, they headed over for a night of food and friends. Every one of Vlad’s friend’s families was there. They all got together once a month, and this was usually the only time Vlad and the other boys got to see and talk to the girls in their group. The last few years, the girls were stuck doing chores. The boys saw them often, but as a group they had not really met since before they were twelve. Everyone looked forward to these meetings.

The girls constantly hit on the boys and most did nothing to stop them. Girls started liking boys way to early in Vlad’s mind. Several tried to hit on Vlad, but he remained unresponsive. Vlad like the group before the girls began to have crushes on the boy.

Sixteen year old Vlad picked the lock to the vaults rather easy. The Koriatians were back and setting up camp. Everyone was on the walls watching them, leaving the streets free for Vlad to break into the vaults. Harn, the city scribe, would never let kids down here, and Vlad was epically banned.

Harn’s organization of everything was amazing. Vlad was easily able to find the section about the Koriatians, grab a pack of scrolls and leave. From the time he picked to the lock to the time he set the lock, was not three minutes.

Vlad knew the streets like the back of his hand. He knew the guard’s patrol routs and every hiding spot. Vlad could make himself invisible in a deserted street, in plain sight. The problem was his white hair. It gave him away to any searchers.

The streets were clear, and would be for another hour or so. Still, Vlad jogged home. In his room he laid the three scrolls on his desk and opened the first one. He was intrigued immediately. They scrolls were Koriatian. Written right after the hero, Ganth, fended them off. It told much of their war customs.

It also held the most valuable piece of information on how to stop them. They had a custom that the two greatest warriors on each side would face off and the losing side would have to submit to the will of the other side. The terms were agreed upon before the battle.

Ganth was never mention by name in the scroll, but the date made sure it was him. The terms of that battle were simple, if the cities fighter won, the Koriatians would not come back for fifty years. If the Koriatian won, the city was ransacked, but the people were allowed to leave with nothing but the clothes on their back.

It was a grueling battle, but Ganth finally won. The whole time he was referred to as the white stripped demon. It was only till the end of the story that Vlad discovered why. It was in narrative form and the battle had just been won by Ganth, who took off his helmet. A white stripe ran down the center of his head, about an inch wide. Vlad’s hand instinctively ran through his long hair.

Now that he was basically, full grown, Vlad’s white stripe was two inches wide. He walked over to his mirror and shaved it down. It was about a half inch now, compared to the seven inches it is was before. He now looked like his friends and their fathers. He now looked like his father.

Harn was definitely back in the vault by now, but Vlad did not care. He had to know his family history. Herife had died before Vlad was old enough to learn it. Vlad was the man of the house. Nothing could stop him from researching his family history, the law stated it.

Vlad calmly descended the stairs in the vault. Harn looked up as he rounded the corner. He frowned instantly.

“What are you doing here, I do not allow thief’s in my vault,” Harn said.

“I have come to research my family history. My father never had time to tell me before he died,” Vlad replied.

“Be very careful,” Harn said through clenched teeth.

Vlad slipped over the family records section and immediately went for Ganth’s. After that, he grabbed his own. Ganth had three scrolls and Vlad’s family had one. Vlad walked over to Harn and informed him that he was taking the scroll home.

Harn scowled and told him, “It must come back in the same shape you took it out in.”

Back home, Vlad first looked at Ganth’s family tree. It ended with Ganth’s two daughters. They married into the Resian Family and the Elderald family. Merian was a direct descendent of Elderald and it was Ganth’s oldest daughter who married into that family. That meant Nala was a descendent of Ganth.

The other scrolls that Ganth had under his name were a complete history of the Ganth’s race. They were the Hoplites, struck down by plague. Ganth was the grandson of the man who led the twelve surviving families to the city. The last family named was Derisan, Vlad’s family.

He quickly confirmed it with his family scroll. The Hoplites were a strong, proud nation. The sign of a warrior was white hair. Sometimes a spot, but most often a strip. It was often offset. The thicker and more centered it was, the greater the warrior. All men could join the army, but only those with white could join the ranks of the Buaidh.

He read non-stop through almost the whole night, slipping for a few hours before the dawn broke.

When he awoke, Vlad grabbed his pads and lock picking gear, along with rope, a grappling hook and several other items.

Vlad knew what he had to do. He rushed off with all the scrolls to the vaults. They were locked when he got there, so Vlad sat down. Yes he could pick the locks, but he decided to let Harn
unlock them.

“Returning the scroll so soon?” Harn said as he walked. “Surprised you did not pick the lock.”

“Look Harn, I do not have time for this. I have something very important to do,” Vlad said.

“Breaking into someplace are we again?” Harn question.

Vlad had not tried to hide his gear. He did not care who saw him.

“Looking for the blueprints to the citadel Vlad?” a voice off to the side said. Vlad jump to his feet, arms crossed, ready to draw his sgain dubh. It was Daren, the king. A quick hand gesture stopped them from bowing, not that Vlad would of anyway.

“Did Harn catch you sneaking out of the vaults?”

“Why does everyone think I sneak into places and pick locks all the time? Just because I snuck into the palace and stole your scepter, which I did put back… The point is that I do get into places legally,” Vlad said.

Daren chuckled and said, “But I bet Harn did not let you borrow all of those scrolls.”

Vlad blushed and handed Harn all of the scrolls. There were seven total. “That is it, I swear,” Vlad said, holding his hands up.

“I turned the place upside down looking for this set of Koriatian scrolls, when did you take it?

“Yesterday, while everyone was watching the Koriatians set up camp,” Vlad replied. “And Ganth’s scrolls were just curiosity.”

Harn scowled and Vlad headed off. No need to stick around, Harn had the scrolls.

“He is young Harn. Lighten up. He may be a thief, but he has not had a father to guide him.
Besides, his thievery has cleared the streets of other thieves and his tab has not reached twenty gold,” Daren said, when Vlad was well gone.

Harn scowled again as he unlocked the door and entered the vaults. Daren and him were going to spend the day looking for a way to stop the Koriatians.

“What are you doing?”

Vlad whipped around, actually drawing his sgain dubh. It was just Nala.

“I am breaking into the hall of warriors,” Vlad stated.

“Vlad, go home. The climb will kill you. There is no way you will make it all the way. It is a five hundred foot cliff. Besides, my dad needs to talk to you. He is at your house waiting.”

“Nala, I have to do this. Your father can wait, this can not.”

“What are you going to do, steal Ganth’s bones?”

“Something like that,” Vlad said as he began the ascent.

It was a hard climb. Vlad was glad he put on the pads, but still, his arms were burning, cut and bruised by halfway up. After three hours, Vlad finally reached the top. However, this was just the beginning of the hardest part. The last forty feet was the smooth granite of the hall of warriors.

Vlad carefully put his grappling gloves on. The good thing was that he was sitting on a lip between the cliff and the wall. Once he had those on, he began to work with the grappling hook. It hit its target after four tries. With the hook securely anchored through a window, Vlad began to work his way up the final stretch of his assent.

Vlad climbed through the thin window and took a few minutes to catch his breath. He treated his wounds and bound them before going in search of Ganth’s tomb. He found it easily. After examining the tomb, Vlad knew how to open. A dial at the feet allowed you to spin a wheel that locked into place.

Vlad could have listened for the tale tell click when the correct number was put in place, but he did not need to. It was a four digit combination; he spun the first until it was on zero. He did the same for the second. The third he placed on one and the final wheel he rotated to two. Twelve, twelve for the number of surviving Hoplite families.

The tomb shook as the top was unlocked. Vlad slid the top off and looked inside the tomb. Ganth’s body was not in it, but his armor was and a bronze sheet of paper. Vlad picked up the bronze sheet and read what was carved in it.

You who dare to open my tomb. It is my guess that the city is again in peril and that it is a young Hoplite Warrior come because no other armor would suit him. Take it, for I am dead. My body lies in a tomb in the old city of Emeralda, the capital of the Hoplite Empire. Take it and may it serve you well. My blessings go with you, for I have no son to pass them down to.

Vlad looked again at the armor. It was in perfect shape. It was made out of bronze and painted bright red. It was lined with gold, and the whole thing was decorated with gold over the red. It was elegant, yet fierce.

A helm, with two eyeholes and a thin strip missing down the center from the eyeholes and a rep plum, from front to back on the top. A red shield, lined with gold and a golden symbol, like an upside down V on the face. The shield’s diameter was several inches over three feet. A red breastplate with the gold designs all over it. Red and gold grieve. For weapons, he had a steel short sword which curved out slightly towards the tip. Gold covered everything else and red leather stitched with gold thread was wrapped around the grip. The last piece was a spearhead and spear butt of steel covered in gold.

Vlad carefully removed each piece, whipped it down and oiled it before donning it. Once it was all on, he headed to the double doors to leave. The doors were locked from the outside, but all the mechanics were inside. Vlad easily spotted the inside lever off to the left. It was there in case someone got locked inside by accident.

Vlad slipped over to the center and waited for the doors to open. He saw the terrified looks on the guards’ faces just before they took off running at full speed. Vlad left his gear inside the hall. He could retrieve it later, if he survived.

He walked along the walled path, past the normal burial grounds and then down to the city.

Everyone, except those on watch, was at the bottom of the burial path waiting to see the red and gold ghost.

As he descended the stairs, the people backed up. The Hoplite men came forward to greet him.

“Now you know why we pressed so hard for you to become a soldier,” Merian said.

Vlad nodded his head and began to carve his way through the crowed. He headed straight to the city gates. It took Vlad a second to process who was blocking his path.

“Do not ever scare me again,” Nala sternly said.

“I am sorry, but I had to do it,” Vlad replied.

“Where are you going no, certainly you are not going to charge out there and face them alone.”

“No, your father and the other men would join me,” Vlad said smiling under his helmet.

“He is going to play by the Koriatian’s rules,” Daren said walking up, Harn wide eyed in his wake. “Just like Ganth did two-hundred and fifty years ago.”

Daren beckoned them all outside the city so they could talk freely. Once far enough away from the walls, he began. “I know your history, for I read Ganth’s scrolls. When this is over, I want to reconfigure our army. I am going with you Vlad, you will need my permission.”

Vlad nodded and they all began to walk over to the Koriatians. They were met on the fringes of their camp by the Koriatian king and several others.

“You come to talk terms?” the king said.

“Yes. The same as last time,” Vlad said.

The king scowled as he sighted Nala, “Why is there a woman here. They are not warriors.”

Vlad was instantly grasping the king’s shirt and had his sword at his neck. They locked eyes and then Vlad pushed him away. Vlad took his spear from Merian, who had caught it when he grabbed his sword.

“Tomorrow, at the sun’s peak,” Vlad said.

The king nodded his head and Vlad led the others back to the city.

Once inside Merian said, “We need to get you trained.”

“Not today Merian. Not today. My legs are on fire and my arms are jelly. I need new dressings, and a good night’s sleep,” Vlad said.

Vlad did just that. He did not sleep in his own home though, but in Merian’s. Nala took his armor and cleaned it, not that it really needed it. Merian’s wife fed Vlad supper and then he went to bed.

Vlad was up well before dawn. Merian and the other men, including their sons, had stayed up most of the night. Merian took charge of warming Vlad up.

He had Vlad jogging, squatting, and other things to warm him up. After he was done there, Merian drilled him in basic sword, spear and shield maneuvers. Vlad was incredibly skilled for one who never had wielded a weapon before in his life. Vlad’s sgain dubh had never drawn blood other than his own. He was not accustom to fighting at all, before today.

It was several hours till noon and still had not had breakfast. Nala brought food out for all the men. It was cooked oats and fruit. The breakfast was light, yet filling.

Merian rotated between one on one combat strategies, to light exercises to keep Vlad loose.
At last, it was time to go. Merian helped Vlad into his gear. When his helmet was on, Vlad was handed his sword and belt, not by Merian, but Nala. Nala also handed his shield to Vlad and his spear. She stood on tip toes, lifted up his helm and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“For good luck,” Nala stated.

Vlad adjusted his helmet and then grabbed his spear from where it was leaning against the wall. Time slowed as he walked through the city and out to the field where he would face his opponent. The battle square had been staked out since dawn.

Merian entered the tent first, to make sure it was clear. Once signaled to continue, Vlad entered. It was good to get out of the sun’s rays and the heat they produced. The tent was not cool by any means, but it was well received. Vlad drank some water and they stepped through to the other side.

The king of the Koriatians was already there. Though he was in full battle armor, Vlad could tell he was not his opponent. A large, muscular man was his opponent. The man starred Vlad down. Vlad starred back. Vlad then removed his helmet and dowsed his head with water. The sweltering heat was unbearable.

Vlad’s eye caught the fear in his opponent’s eyes as he saw the white strip. Vlad had calculated correctly. They were fearful of those with a white strip upon their head. Vlad replaced his helm and stepped into the ring.

The Koriatian did the same. Vlad raised his spear and the two began to circle. They circled for what seemed like hours before Vlad did a fake stab. The Koriatian raised his shield and ducked. Vlad drove his spear into him as he stood back up. The spear sank into the wooded shield. Vlad released it and drew his sword.

The Koriatian was forced to discard his shield and then fend Vlad off. Vlad went in with several of the basic sword patterns Merian had shown him. He finished the cycles off by swinging the edge of his shield into his opponent.

The Koriatian stepped back to avoid the shield, but could go no were when Vlad swept it out. The two continued trading blows for the next ten minutes. By five, Vlad was completely exhausted. At the seventh minute, Vlad got an adrenalin boost.

The Koriatian finally got past Vlad’s giant shield and stabbed him in the arm. Next came a cut on the legs several minutes later. Vlad gave his own injures. He slammed his shield into the Koriatian’s thigh, resulting in a loud crack and a completely shattered femur.

The Koriatian went down screaming in pain, but quickly turned it into a war cry and he used his sword to help him stand. He hopped around and gave Vlad several more injuries. An exhausted Vlad fell with a stab in the gut.

He laid there in pain and watched as the Koriatian hobbled over, and swept his sword away with his sword. He stood over Vlad and spit in his face and said, “Pathetic, I fight with only one leg and you can not fight with a stab to the gut.”

Vlad’s eyes glazed over with anger and he rose in a swift movement and stabbed his sgain dubh, which he had placed in his grieve, into the Koriatian’s throat. “Fight with that,” Vlad whispered, his face right up in the Koriatian’s.

Vlad sank to his knees and would have hit the ground if Merian had not caught him. Everything went dark as trumpets began to sound.

Vlad came too in a strange house. He tried to sit up, but bit his lip from the pain instead. His gut was on fire. It was not for another minute until he remembered why. Merian came in a few minutes later, a smile on his face when he saw that Vlad was awake.

“Good to see you awake Vlad. I have much I need to tell you about if you are feeling up to it,” Merian said.

Vlad nodded and Merian began. “I was going to tell you this the day before you stopped the Koriatians, but you were busy, but most of what I was going to tell you, you know because of the scrolls. What I am going to tell you is a tradition among the Hoplites that is looked down upon by the people of this city. Among ourselves, we practice arranged marriages. Every child at birth is paired with another. There was much anxiety among us after Nala was born. You had to be a boy. Thankfully you were.”

Vlad interrupted at this point, “So… I am going to marry Nala?”

“Correct. That is what was arranged between your father and me. In our culture, the marriage is effective as soon as the arrangements are made. Whenever the two join into one after that is up to them, even if it is before the official ceremonies,” Merian explained. He continued passing information on to Vlad until Vlad asked where he was.

“You are in your home. Your own home. Daren is setting up a district for the Hoplites until we can make our own city. Our district is almost built. We are even moving our dead to a new burial ground, still on their shields.”

Nala came in with soup just then, a sweet smile on her face when she saw Vlad was awake. Merian helped Vlad sit up and eat.

They talked for a little longer on the plans for the cities army. Daren was reworking the whole thing. The good thing was that they had fifty years before the Koriatians would come back.

When Merian had left, Nala did something Vlad had never seen her do, she let down her hair. She sat with her back to him and began to run her hands through her hair. It was then that Vlad saw what she wanted him to see, a spot of white hair at the base of her skull and centered perfectly.

As she was putting her hair back up, Nala said, “Only my mother knows. Not even my father. For now, I want it covered. There will be a time when I wear it proudly, but it shall not be before we are married.”

Nala left Vlad to sleep, for it was dusk. Despite the fact that he had been unconscious for the last week, he was tired. He would go on to mend well and become a great warrior.

Last edited by High Lord Akkarin on Sat Sep 04, 2010 9:53 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Lone Wolf
I am such a post-wh*re and I am proud of it.
Lone Wolf

Join date : 2010-03-09
Rank : Technical Admin / Webmaster

Posts : 2523

PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Mon Aug 16, 2010 5:02 am

Ok, this is just a short story? I wanna hear more!

Honestly you have a talent which not many posses, I saw 2 mistakes.

Were, (where) You wrote what was not in Brackets.

Hail, (Hair)

Quote :
It was Nala who finally found Vlad, well after the battle was over. Nala was always so sweet. Her brown hair was always in a neat ponytail. Vlad thought it would look better down. Her hail was sacred to her, she would not allow anyone to touch it.

Quote :
Vlad ran hard and almost slipped and slid into the side of a house as he turned the corner. The guards were no were in sight, but they could be heard. This time, the thief was not Vlad. He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Although, to the guards’ and merchant’s credit, things had a way of disappearing when Vlad was around. At fourteen, he was a master thief.


There are so many people out there who say, "You can't."
What you have to do is turn around and say, "Watch me."
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Her kommer utvisnings hammeren!

Join date : 2010-07-17
Posts : 193

PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Sat Sep 04, 2010 9:51 pm



Ashia landed hard. She glared through the eyeholes at her opponent. She breathed heavily and then stood. This would not stop until her opponent, her father and trainer was finished. Today, they were working on throwing your opponent.

They began to circle and then Ashia fell prey to Herife’s fake. She moved in to counter and suddenly found that her father had her arm. Next thing she was on the ground, her wrist racked with pain. Ashia had lost track of how many times he had thrown her.

Herife walked off, they training done for the day. She swore. She never could read her father’s face. Her training was always progressing. As soon as she began to get good at something, they moved on. Most of it seemed pointless to her. She watched the other warrior’s training. They never even remotely trained like her.

“Ashia, keep your tongue behind you lips,” Language like that is for the other civilizations, not for a Hoplite, especially for a Hoplite warrior and even more so for a Hoplite Woman,” Vlad rebuked her.

Ashia had no idea how long her great grandfather and grandfather had been watching. Vlad was now into his late sixties. He was old, but his body was still that of a warrior. Vlad spent most of his time in the market places stopping shoplifters, his childhood pastime. He had been a great warrior, one of the greatest in Hoplite history. He had saved their city from the Koratians, fifty years ago. This year marked the fifty years of peace with the Koratians. This was the year they could return. No doubt they would. The only problem was that Ashia was the one chosen to face them.

Ashia got up and walked past her two older relatives. She noticed for the first time that Vlad had also kept his hair. His black hair had not grayed or changed in anyway, showing his white stripe perfectly.

Ashia ran her fingers through her shoulder length hair as she walked to the river to bathe. The woman bathed in a discrete spot in the mountains that backed the city. Soon, Ashia thought, Soon I shall be cleaning blood off me.

Ashia wished that her father would face the Koratian’s best soldier and not make her. She dunked her head under the water and ran her hands through it as she held her breath. She came up and pulled her hair back. She could hear female voices, both young and old as she swam about and relaxed in the water. She did not fit in well with the other woman since she was a warrior. She hated that about herself. Ashia was just like the other woman, but they did not know how to act around her. They treated her like a man, and it was all because of her hair.

It was something more unique than a stripe. Ashia had a V on her head. The point was centered on her head and began at the hairline. It split and ended behind her ears.

The women were on the shore and undressing. The younger ones who did not have to worry about children were the first in. They were the ones who would swim. The older ones bathed in the shallows along with the children and those in care of the children. Up until the age of five, a boy would bathe with his mother. After that, he would go with his father. This pool was reserved for the poor who could not afford a bath in their home. Unless you were really rich, your older children would not bath in the house.

Ashia’s parents had a bath, but she had routinely come here since twelve. The past year she had come here almost daily because of her training. Ashia caught the stares from those who could swim. It was then that she noticed the bruises on her arms. Herife had not been gentle.

Ashia felt someone grab her leg and try and pull her under. She set her back foot against the shore and twisted and drove her foot into the attacker’s face. Immediately she was let go and then up came her attacker.

“Man, defiantly are a warrior,” said Shardae as she pulled her hair back.

Shardae was one the only one Ashia could call a friend. Unfortunately, Shardae lived in the main city and not in the Hoplite district. In gratitude, the city had created the Hoplite district so that the Hoplites could openly live by their traditions.

“How do you kick so hard underwater?” Shardae asked.

“I do not know,” Ashia replied, her heart calm since she had long ago learned to control her breathing.

Shardae sat next to Ashia in the shallows. They watched the woman bathing the children in the shallows on the other side of the pool. Ashia and Shardae were on more of a shelf than shallows, since they were up against the cliff wall.

“You found out who you are to marry yet?” Shardae asked.

Ashia shook her head and said, “No, my father will not tell me and no one else knows. None of the kids my age know who they are going to marries either. The secret is tightly sealed. Where they keep the documents of the marriages to be I have no idea.”

“Why does he think you will be distracted?”

“Have you not seen my bruises? He works me hard, so hard that I rarely have time to myself. Thankfully I do not lessons to worry about, though he is constantly asking me military and history questions.”

“Any idea when your next free day will be?”

“He told me yesterday that we had to work harder than ever. Why he insists on driving me so hard and moving on when I am not meeting his standards I have no idea.”

Ashia and Shardae continued to talk and then left before it got dark. Herife was off with the men on this night in their meeting hall. Ashia would not join them until her father allowed her too. Ashia silently ate and then slipped into bed. He breathing was silent and she slept light, yet always woke
fully rested.



Ashia bolted awake at the sound of her name. She grimaced as the pain from her suddenly sitting up washed over her. Her whole body ached from the training she had received the day before.

Ashia threw clothes on and walked as fast as her stiff muscles would allow her to though the halls. She came into the main room as the voiced called her name again. She was surprised to see Vlad there, standing like a warrior as always.

“Ashia, you must take the next step in your training. Breakfast in on the table, eat it quickly and then get dressed. Today you leave to go to the Hoplite Capital of Emeralda,” Vlad announced.

“But the city is abandoned, ruined from the plague. How can you be sure the Plague is still not around?” Ashia protested.

“Hold your tongue Ashia. The city is abandoned, but the plague is not there. I have been there myself with my wife, Nala. You Grandfather Renese went also when it was his time and so did your father. Your supplies are against the wall. Everything you will need is there, do not take anything else.”

With those words, Vlad left. Ashia did what he instructed, all the while complaining in her heart. She put the traveling clothes on. They were made of leather and were thick enough to stop a blade. Ashia strapped the knife and shortsword to her waist and then hefted her pack. She grabbed the copper spear and headed out the door, the small shield bouncing against her pack with every step.

Ashia struck out south along the desert border. She was nervous that she would meet the Koratians along the way. She was not confident she could fight off a man, let alone an army or multiple opponents.

She traversed over hard packed dirt with rocks scattered around. Tough grass grew to a certain place and then stopped. It was certainly weird to have one foot on grass, the other on hard packed dirt. Two completely different worlds colliding.

She veered off from the collision after two days and headed south west. The land began to roll and the tuff grass softened. Good camping places were still impossible to come by, so Ashia refrained from lighting a fire.

The grass changed again on Ashia. It became tough and sharp. The ground loosened too. Ashia realized a few hours later when she stood on the top of a hill, a sand hills and the sun glairing down on her. The sand was loose slowing her journey incredibly. Ashia sat down and looked at the map.

She had no idea where she was. Emeralda was ether northwest along the coast, or South East. Ashia instinctively looked back on her father’s lessons and did some simple calculations in her head. She guessed she was still south of the city and decided that was the best course of action. She trudged along over the sand hills for the rest of the day.

Near sundown, she veered back towards the grassy part. It was a bit out of the way but would be a better camping area. She reached the tough grass and spied a shack. It was dark inside, so Ashia approached with her sword drawn.

“Hello misses,” Said a voice from behind Ashia, causing her to jump and heft her spear over her head. She lowered the poised spear when she saw a young man, about her age, standing there with a hood over his head. He ignored her weapons and let the bag from his shoulder down.

“If you are looking for the resident of that shack, you found him,” said the man. “Leonidous is my name and you are welcome to stay in my house. My I ask where you are headed?

“I am headed to the city of Emeralda. It is the home of my ancestors,” Ashia replied.

Leonidous took a few steps closer and shook his head. “A Hoplite, I cannot believe it. I heard you were al destroyed.”

“My blood is as true as an arrow.”

“A poor ranger does not hit his mark.”

“A poor ranger hits the mark his arrow is pointed at. It may not be where he wanted it, but the arrow flies straight to its mark, every time.”

“You have a wit about you. What is your name?”


“Well Ashia, dinner should be ready by now. Shall we eat?”

The two headed indoors and Ashia gasped. Leonidous had a set of Hoplite Armour on display. It was green and gold. He also had an array of weapons on the wall.

“Quite a selection,” Leonidous said, as he scooped stew into two bowls. “I have been able to gather many pieces. I have one I think you will be very interested in.”

“This stew is marvelous,” Ashia complimented after her fist bite.

“Living alone has forced me to become a good cook.”

“No family?”

Leonidous sighed and replied, “A father, mother and a sister, a few years younger than myself. They are in captivity. I escaped and have been here for a year now. I have been searching far and wide for any remaining Hoplites. It is good two know that some are free. How many are there of you?”

Ashia was cautious with her reply, “Close to a thousand. Ten families escaped the Plague. Two warriors have saved the city, both were Hoplites, both are in my blood line.”

“Explains the hair. What city are you from?”

“Terinia, to the north east of here. It is against the desert.”

“I know where you speak of from old maps. Why are you going to Emeralda?”

“My grandfather sent me. It is some part of my training. This is the year our peace with our rivals, the Koratians are due back. We will send out greatest warrior to battle them. Whoever wins get’s the city. I am the next in line, my brother’s do not have the sign. The two in the middle have no white, the oldest has a patch. I think it is to give me a break from my training, I am failing at it. I do not progess fast enough.”

“Your grandfather works you hard?”

“No, my father works me hard because I do not meet his standards.”

They finished their meal in silence and then Leonidous walked over to a chest. He opened it and pulled out purple Buaidh armour. It was exactly like that of her father’s armour except it was woman’s armour. The deep royal of the purple was contrasted well with the gold designs.

“This should fit you well. Besides, you are going to need it. I shall be outside, call when you are finished,” Leonidous said as he slipped outside to gaze at the starts.

Ashia examined the armour for a minute and then strapped it on. The fit was perfect. She called for Leonidous who came in cheerfully.

“A perfect match, both in size and for who you are. Purple was used for the female Buaidh armour. They had their own battalion, though it was not very big. You are going to need that armour. Emeralda is not abandoned. The Resians have taken it. They are the ones who hold my family, our family in captivity. Yes, I a Hoplite. I am the descendant of King Leonidous of the Plague. I would be the prince of the Hoplites, though we keep that secret from the Resians for our protection.” With those words Leonidous removed his hood, which Ashia had forgotten he had on, revealing pure black hair, the center roots were white.

“I dye my hair to keep the Resians from knowing,” Leonidous explained.

“How did you become slaves?”

“Leonidous and his wife stayed in the city. They sent the baby with a mistress. She cared for him as her own. The knowledge is well known among our people. The line has continued on since.”

“When did they take the city?”

“Fifteen years ago.”

“That would be after my father journeyed there.”

“Will you continue on? Or will you go back home?”

A knock on the door stopped Ashia from answering. She took the sword handed to her by Leonidous and stood next to the door. Leonidous opened the door a crack and a phrase was said through the crack, “Red for blood, Green for strength, Blue for agility, Purple for beauty.”

Leonidous open the door and a man about their age stepped in. “Leonidous?” he asked questioning.

“I am he and yours would be?”

“Tyraeus. I come to you looking for a place to go. It was over a week ago that I escaped the Resians and since I have made a hard trail for them to follow.”

Ashia spoke instead of Leonidous. “Take this map, head northeast to the city Terinia. There, have someone take you to Vlad the Hoplite. Explain our race’s captivity and that Ashia asks for aid. Lead them back to Emeralda.”

“Yes my lady,” Tyraeus said bowing in respect. “I will leave immediately.”

“Wait, take some food for the journey,” Leonidous said.

Food was quickly packed and then Tyraeus was off. Ashia was thankful that he had been traveling at night; otherwise she would have insisted that he leave at dawn. She was also relieved to know he had a horse.

“I hope your men are ready for a fight, for they will get one. Emeralda is well fortified and many men live there. Their soldiers outnumber you close to three to one, and that is not counting the men they will arm because they are under attack,” Leonidous said as Tyraeus rode off.

“We will win,” Ashia said. “My father will lead the men and we will win.” They headed inside to sleep. Ashia gave in after a long argument and took the bed.


Ashia woke to the smell of breakfast. Leonidous was wearing the Green Buaidh. As she rolled out of bed, he left so she could get dressed. They ate in silence and then Leonidous walked over to a chest, pulled some items out and then began to place the weapons in the chest. Once he was done he handed a long sleeve dress, large boots, a cloak, bag and dagger to Ashia.

Leonidous sat her down, wrapped rags around her shoulders and then began to die her hair. They could not risk her being recognized as a Hoplite.

She put everything on over her armor and then put the dagger at her side. He helmet, and weapons she put in a secret place under the floorboards. She did not have time to identify the other objects Leonidous had stored there.

As they hiked towards Emeralda, Ashia asked Leonidous about the dagger.

“It is of Resian origin,” Leonidous replied. “For now, we are husband and wife. Stick with me, the city will get rough. You can tell the slaves from the citizens easily. The slaves shave their head to hide and white hair. They also do it in mourning for our fallen race. Even the women shave their heads.”

They worked out the rest of their history on the road. It was not until the next day when the sun was at its zenith that they met the first travelers. They were rural famers taking wares to market. They decided to travel together for safety since bandits were know to patrol the road.

Later that day, they caught up with another group of travelers. Leonidous jogged ahead to speak with them when one drew a sword and attacked Leonidous. Another went after the farmer while the last two tried to grab Ashia, the farmer’s wife and the children.

One of the men caught sight of Ashia’s dagger and drew his sword. Ashia faked a draw of the dagger and the man drove in with his blade. Ashia stepped towards him, caught his arm, turnd and brought it down onto her shoulder. Her left elbow smashed into his face. She stripped his sword and slashed his neck in one simple move.

The man attacking the farmer fell prey to Ashia’s dagger, which she threw. The man that had the farmer’s wife dropper her and ran, but Ashia easily caught him and killed him.

When Ashia turned back towards the others, Leonidous had the man on top of his and was choking him. He was easily dispatched. The bandit’s weapons were placed in the cart within easy reach. They would be sold at the market for some easy cash. A search of their bodies revealed jewelry and gold coins.

The woman kept some of the jewelry, the rest was going to be sold. It took a little bit to convince the farmer and his wife to take the weapons, gold and jewelry along to sell. However, the idea that it was compensation for the scare they had, plus the idea of quick money that was legally obtained turned them around.

Ashia caught Leonidous’ stares throughout the day. They were not stares of affection, more like I know something you do not mixed with admiration. That night, Ashia kept watch, against the wishes of the Farmer. Leonidous tipped the scales with the fact that if she kept watch, that meant more sleep for them.

The next day they reached a town about midday. They ate their meal and decided to rest the rest of the day. The Famer’s donkeys could use the rest and there was a good possibility that if they continued on, they would be camping outside Emeralda’s gates.

Ashia did not let Leonidous sleep on the floor. The bed’s were spacious enough that they could easily share. Plus, if anyone were to accidently enter, they would see exactly what they would expect, husband and wife in bed together.

They ate lunch on the road and came to the city an hour after. Once inside the gates, they said goodbye to the Farmer and his family. The market was the first place they headed to sell their half of the spoils at the market.

Leonidous proved to know prices well and got every copper he could for everything. They moved into the temples where people where allowed to sleep until they had enough money for housing. They got registered and then went their separate ways to look for work.

Ashia found plenty of work. She was not suited for any woman’s work though. She finally found a place that would take her. She got work as a delivery maid. She would pick up and deliver laundry. After the first day, Ashia had a good portion of the city mapped out in her head.

Leonidous found work down at the docks as a loader. His strong shoulders soon were soaked as he worked in seaside sun. His work brought in good money; enough that they could stay in a private room the next few nights.

On the third day, they headed back to Leonidous’ place to meet up with the Hoplite army and to retrieve their weapons. They rushed back with horses they had stolen. They took a direct rout back, making it in only a day.

When they arrived, they began to prepare for the men.

Vlad sat there in the meeting hall. A man had ridden into the city not an hour ago and had called for an important meeting of all Hoplites. King Daren III was also attending the meeting. The first Daren was a great friend of Vlad’s. His son still lived, but preferred to spend his days with Vlad. Daren II also was attending. Though he was not king, he still held a lot of weight on decisions.

The man came forward and gave a short synopsis of the situation. Vlad saw his son Herife tense when the man, who was named Tyraeus, said that Emeralda was occupied. Every man in the hall knew what was going to vote. There was only one answer. They had to rise up and fight for their brothers.

When Tyraeus had finished, Herife stood up. He was so much like Vlad’s father, his namesake. “We know our decision. We know we are going to free our brethren. However, I must stay. The Koratians could be here any day. I do not think they will wait a few weeks while we save our race.”

“Is Ashia ready?” spoke up Vlad’s old friend, Duncan.

“Yes,” Vlad replied. “Ashia is ready. Though she does not know it, she is. Ashia has been pushed harder than any before her. She judges her success on how fast she is moving. Ashia moves on as soon as she gets a concept. She does not get to master it and deems that she is not living up to her father’s standards.”

“My daughter is more skilled than she realizes, much more skilled. I move on because as soon as she beats me, I, nor anyone can beat her in the task. She has been tested because her skill in incredible. She is progressing faster than Vlad or I…”

Vlad interjected, “My son means no disrespect by calling me by my first name.”

“Well, I have nothing more to say. Ashia has armor, a companion of royal blood, what she needs now is an army.”

“The soldiers left the hall. The older one sat there looking at each other. They were in their fifties and sixties. They knew each other from the days their mother’s bathed them together in the woman’s bathing pool. They played together, they married their friends when they were old enough. They were the commanders of the Anrian war together, with Vlad as the leader.

They glanced back and forth, from one to another, never speaking a word. Vlad was the first to stand. He was readily followed by the others. They were going with the men to free their brethren.

Vlad drove the men hard. They made the journey in four days. Ashia and Leonidous greeted them outside a shack.

“Welcome, my Brothers, back to our homeland,” Leonidous said.

Vlad walked up to Leonidous and bowed. Leonidous rebuked him saying, “No. No Hoplite shall bow before me until we are free.”

“Where is my Father?” Ashia asked.

“Commander,” Vlad replied. “He has stayed home. He stays because the Koratians have not come. He stays to face their champion if they come. He resigned his leadership and passes it on to you, Ashia.”

“To me? But I am not ready,” Ashia protested.

“You are more ready than you think Ashia,” Leonidous said. “You handled the bandits easily and never faltered.”

Duncan spoke up from his place on his horse. “Your father moved on in your training because as soon as you beat him once, he could do nothing more. If anything, it was your father who thought he was the failure. He could not compete with his own daughter.”

“What is the plan?” Vlad asked.

They worked late into the night deciding on a course of action. They decided on a long shot, however, all they had was a long shot. The chance of freeing their brothers was slim. Still, they had to risk it.

The plan was simple. In ten days, everyone would be in the city. At midnight, they would all rise up and take the city from the inside out. Leonidous would slip back in as a slave and rally them. They would take up arms, kill the males of the city and take the woman and children as slaves.

Fifty men would be brought in as slaves, the others would slip in over the next few days. The slaves were comprised up of men who did not have any white hair, so there would not be identified as Hoplites.

They left over the next few days. Each man had money, food and their weapons. Their armour was securely hidden under their clothing, not the most comfortable situation but none complained. They were set on the mission ahead.

Ashia, Leonidous and Vlad traveled together. They were one of the first to enter the city. Vlad took the south entrance to coordinate with those coming in from the south. Leonidous took up his old job and Ashia hers.

The men came in over the next few days. Word reached the others through Ashia, who was the messenger that the slaves had arrived. It was to be that night. The moon would be but a sliver, making their job easier.

Ashia and Leonidous were to hunt down and kill the Resian king, Dunia. The older men would accompany them. They would take care of the guards.

As they were about to leave, Vlad approached Ashia. “Daren is going to accompany you. You will need the third person most likely.”Daren was one of the boys Ashia’s age. He was a skilled fighter. No doubt Vlad was sending him to make sure she was safe.

They stayed in the shadows, which was easy because of the lack of moonlight. They caught the catlike movements of other Hoplites as they moved through the city. Several times guards had their throats cut by the shadows of Hoplites.

They reached the citadel and found the guards already slain. They slipped in and then a man with a shaved head stepped out of the shadows, startling her. He beckoned and they followed. After silently running up stairs and through halls, the man stopped at the end of the hall in front of doubles doors. Beyond them were the bed chambers where the King and his wife were sleeping peacefully.

Ashia caught movement behind them and whipped around. They were pinned by twenty guards.

Leonidous grabbed Ashia and pulled her face to face with him. “Go, do what must be done. We will handle this. Go!”

Ashia slipped into the room and silently closed the door. The room came to life as torches flared to life. The king stood there in the center of the zoom, forty guards flanked him.

“So, they send a lone woman to do a man’s job,” Dunia said.

“This woman,” Ashia said, annoyance clearly on her voice, “knows what she is doing more that you think.” Ashia ignored the sounds of the battle in the hall and drove her spear not through one, but two men. Her sword was instantly out of her sheath and stained with blood seconds later.

The guards came but Ashia’s sword and shield kept them at bay. Her shield was as deadly as he sword. She caved in many skulls, with the edge of her shield. As a result, the edge was bent and a large section was broken off by the time she finished the last soldier.

Leonidous, the slave and Daren barged in to find Ashia staring down Dunia, the forty guards dead all around Ashia. Sounds of the fight in the city reached their ears.

“Curse you. Curse you Hoplites. This is not how it is supposed to be. You are supposed to be dead or slaves,” Dunia said.

“Ten families slipped away and headed towards the desert. They found the city Terinia and since have saved the city twice from the rival race. Both are in my bloodline. This was a long shot, but it is to late for you to stop it. Now, I will kill you, for you have kept my Brothers as slaves.”

Ashia caught her spear which Leonidous had thrown to her. She charged with the spear poised above her head, faked a stab with the spear and dogged back. Dunia started to take the bait but then slipped to the side at the last moment, causing Ashia to miss with the spear. She spun, sending her shield at Dunia, who made it glance off his shield. He then drove in with his sword. Ashia easily danced out of the way.

Suddenly she was falling. As she fell, she cursed silently as she remembered her father’s lesson on watching the ground. She landed and pulled her legs up and did a complete roll. As soon as she was standing she launched her spear. With the short distance, Dunia never had a chance to dodge. The spear lodged into his side, causing him to falter. Ashia kicked his sword away, dropped her shield while grasping the spear. She placed her sword at his neck also.

“Are you going to kill me woman?” Dunia asked. He was trying to make her slay him.

“No,” Ashia replied. “It is not my place. I have no jurisdiction in this part. However, my King, Leonidous has the jurisdiction.” Ashia pulled the spear out and none to gently. She walked over to where Leonidous was standing.

Dunia immediately grabbed a sword from a dead guard and swung it over his head to strike Ashia. She expected this, spun , caught his wrist and pinned his arm behind his back. The sword was dropped carelessly. She dragged him out into the hallway and a good distance from the dead guards in the hall. She threw him down and stood between him and the stairs.

Leonidous walked up to Dunia with Dunia’s sword in his hand. He looked into his eyes for a moment and then proclaimed, “I claim this city and the surrounding area as mine, for I am the rightful heir to the throne of Hoplite.” After that, he swung the final blow.

They exited the Citadel. However, they met with something unexpected. The older men who had attacked the citadel stood around a man on the ground. They pushed their way through to the center. Ashia dropped to her knees as she saw who it was. Vlad sat there, his gut laid open.

“Ashia, my granddaughter, the first time I was cut in the gut, I survived, and it was a worse blow than this. However, I am old. I will not survive it this time. This time this injury claims my life.” Vlad beckoned for her ear and she bent down close to him. “Daren is you husband. He does not know either. Bear me on my shield home to be buried by my Father, Ganth and the others. I want to lay with my friends forever.”

With those words, Vlad breathed his last. Ashia closed his eyes and almost laughed out loud. Vlad was already resting on his shield. He had always been a stickler for tradition.

The sun rose over the hills of the countryside bringing morning to the city. Many Hoplites had lost their life. However, the price was worth the freedom that had given to their brothers. Leonidous stood on the balcony and addressed the city.

“Today, today your slaves are free. Today you have lost your fathers, husbands, sons and brothers. Today, a new era washes over this city. Today, you should be slaves. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. However, we will not make things right by enslaving you. We shall march you north to your homeland, to the land your ancestors farmed. Your dept has been paid.”

The Resians had the rest of the day to gather what they needed and prepare for the journey. Ashia watched as they left. She did not realize Leonidous was standing next to her until he spoke. “Are you to be married Ashia?”

She was startled for a second and then said, “Yes, to Duncan. I am sorry.”

“Do not be sorry. I am glad to know you are promised to another. Duncan is a strong warrior, it was a good decision by your father and his. Besides, it would not be possible. You are needed to continue your line and save your city from the Koratians. It is odd. Women marry into the man’s family, but when the woman is of high prestige, the man marries into her family.”

Leonidous left the city in the hands of the elders while he traveled to Terinia with the Hoplites who lived there. They rode leisurely, Vlad on his shield on a kart. The Resians had an odd custom of preserving the Body. Several of the former Slaves knew enough to perform the custom. His body would make it Ternia with little to no decomposition and was already ready for burial.

Word was sent ahead to the city so that preparations could be made. When they reached the city, they found it deep in mourning. King Daren the III met them at the city gates. He bent down on one knee and said, “Ashia, I regret to inform you that your father is also dead. He slew the Koratian challenger, saving the city. However, he received a grave wound to the gut and did not recover. I am sorry for both your losses. We held off Herife’s burial for a day so that father and son could be buried together.”

The procession wound through both the Old City and the Hoplite’s district and finally came to stop at the Burial grounds. Herife laid there on his shield next to his sarcophagus. Vlad was placed next to him and then the burial speech was said. It was in the ancient Hoplite language and most stood their silently, not understanding a word that was said. Ashia, along with the other Hoplites knew exactly what was being said. It was a laminate, a song of a Hoplite Warrior who died. It was from the viewpoint of his young wife, who he had just married. It was a sad song, but it was true, both in story, and how the warrior fought gallantly.

After the burial, Leonidous approached Ashia. “I know you are in morning, but I would love to have the honor of marrying you to Duncan.”

“I would be honored,” Ashia replied, a broad smile of her face.

Last edited by High Lord Akkarin on Tue Sep 07, 2010 10:05 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Sun Sep 05, 2010 7:28 am

Very good. You do have a talent for writing. It will be fun to se how this turns out. Here is one thing that bugged me.
Quote :
Herife bashed another Koratian with the edge of his shield. Herife never faltered when the arrow pierced his chest. He fought on and slew three more, before the next one buried itself in his chest.

When Herife finally faltered, he did not rise again. He slew over forty from the time the first arrow was lodged in his chest. Merian was thrown into a frenzy with the death of Herife.

Try using other words or descriptions. Repeating chest over and over kind of ruis the flow if you get my meaning.

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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Sun Sep 05, 2010 10:25 am

Oh, Hahahaha, never realised I did that. sorry. I tend to have that habbit with the most random words.
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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Sun Sep 05, 2010 11:05 am

Many do, so no problem.

I'm just curious, wouldn't the Koriatians have chosen their best man for the fight? The fact that Vlad managed to defeat him with only a day of training seems a bit unrealistic to me.

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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Sun Sep 05, 2010 11:21 am

Yeah, it shows Vlad's natural skill. He lost, except he stabbed the Koratian in time before he was finsihed off. Vlad's agility saved him for most of the battle, but then he was finally struck and taken down. It all comes down to teh misscalculation of the Koratian. Vlad was essentally, a weak warrior, but he pulled on the last of his strenght, did what the Koratian did not expect and won.
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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Sun Sep 05, 2010 11:34 am

Im curious as its mostly a good story. But is Vlad supposed to be greek? (A Hoplite a a greek spear wielding soldier)

If so its not the best pick of names as it is a Russian name, just like Duncan is Scottish.
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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Sun Sep 05, 2010 11:38 am

Yea and Neh. Nala is African, and orriginally male. Vlad is not supposed to be greek. He is a Hoplite. That is their race of men, just as the Koratians are Koratians.

Yeah, it is set in another world, another time.
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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Sun Sep 05, 2010 11:39 am

AH ok, was just slightly confused as you have names from about seven different counties in there.
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Twin Dagger
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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Mon Sep 06, 2010 11:40 am

MD I really like this. The names are good as well for the charecters.
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Her kommer utvisnings hammeren!

Join date : 2010-07-17
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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Tue Sep 07, 2010 10:03 am

Okay, the rest of Ashia is posted.
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*POOF* Err....Jack Has Gone on Vacation...Permanently.

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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Tue Sep 07, 2010 10:44 am

Very good. Sad how you killed of Vlad. I liked him a lot. You should continue this. It's really good you know.

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Her kommer utvisnings hammeren!

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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Tue Sep 07, 2010 4:05 pm

Yeah, I had to kill Vlad. I loved him too.
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Join date : 2010-05-08
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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Wed Sep 08, 2010 9:31 am

Awesome Story, But why both Vlad's getting cuts to the gut?

Stand Up!
For what is Right.
Be Brave!
Get ready to fight.
Hold On!
We are Friends for life.
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Her kommer utvisnings hammeren!

Join date : 2010-07-17
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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Wed Sep 08, 2010 11:09 am

I do not know. It is just that he started as a warrior almost dieing from a gut wound, and he ends being a warrior by dieing with a gut wound.

And, THATS WHAT I FELT LIKE DOING!!!!!!!! hahah, had to do that. Sorry.
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*POOF* Err....Jack Has Gone on Vacation...Permanently.

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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Wed Sep 08, 2010 12:13 pm

Yeah. But why did Vlad's son die from a stab to the gut as well?

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Firesword assassin
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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Wed Sep 08, 2010 3:34 pm

It's quite good MD. It's a bit confusing, but maybe that's just down to my reading technique.

Evil is a point of view ~Anne Rice
Assumption is the mother of all f*ck ups.
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Her kommer utvisnings hammeren!

Join date : 2010-07-17
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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Wed Sep 08, 2010 10:16 pm

Nah, it is proably because that is just my first draft. I do not write rough Drafts, just too clean of a writer to right rough drafts. It is always, first, then final. Yeah, I proably should add a few more drafts there.
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Lone Wolf
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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Sat Sep 11, 2010 11:32 am

Nexus wrote:
Awesome Story, But why both Vlad's getting cuts to the gut?
To quote Nexus here.

Why did both Vlad's Get cuts to the gut and both of them die from it?

There are so many people out there who say, "You can't."
What you have to do is turn around and say, "Watch me."
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Her kommer utvisnings hammeren!

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PostSubject: Re: HOPLITE-AN ANTHOLOGY   Sat Sep 11, 2010 1:35 pm

Unity? Because that was what I wanted to do.

Is there a problem that I did that?

I am working on the rewrite at the moment.
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