MRPolo13
The Arbiter of the Gods
"They're about... A thousand feet away, as it stands, and are approaching rather fast," judged Mister Korpol.
"Ready your rifles, noble sirs, for it appears that the Imperials are charging at us," said Sir Garlok. The Noble Soldiers didn't have to be reminded again. They all took out their rifles, all covered with silver and gold, except the ebony used for the handles and the stocks. They calmly took aim, as each judged the distance.
"I can see the white in their eyes by now, Good Patron Garlok," noted, quite politely and quite accurately Noble Brother Darktul, taking a gentle aim.
The horses approached quickly, their synthetic muscles shining in the sun with steel. The enemy took their lances down, aiming at the opposing force, made up of Noble Soldiers. Each of the nobles took an aim at one of the riders, and there was a sharp, quick screech of "Fire!" by Noble Brother Garlok. There were about ten pops, followed by an explosion from each barrel, where pressure finally found its escape route, pushing out the large calibre bullets. A careful, genetically enhanced eye would be able to spot how each bullet enters the helmet, and then the skull of a different soldiers, breaking apart in between, showing smaller lead pallets which easily made their way inside, leaving a horrific mess inside.
The first line broke, as it could be expected from such a horrendous volley. The horses of the second line panicked, never expecting what happened to the rank of riders in front, and went completely out of control.
"May I admire your splendid shot, Noble Brother Korpol," praised the mass of a man that was Sir Borntal. "I believe, however, that I took out two, while you only managed one."
"Please, after this minor conflict is over, why, I invite you to sabres," chuckles Mister Korpol, before adding, "A nice duel between friends is always a splendid sight, for Venit honos ex virtute, Hmm?"
"Indeed I must agree," replied Borntal, though he realized that he had no chance against the far skinnier Korpol if it came to sabres.
"Well, noble gentlemen, it appears we are needed elsewhere. Let us report to the headquarters, stating that the Imperials are now sending Lancers," said Sir Gorlok, before adding, "Lancers are like their elite, almost. It seems that we shall soon finally taste some proper battle, not this filth that peasants should take care of."
The riders went off into the distance, leaving only bodies of the dead to be ripped apart by ravens, and bolts of the horses, which were too scared to notice them gone...
"So the battle begins?" demanded answers Emperor Maredew, despite being on a steep hill and seeing what was below him.
"Indeed so. This shall be great," replied his right hand, First of the Equal, looking down proudly at the troops.
And quite the sight there was. Three thousand lances, all with electrical tips strong enough to stop one's heart if the lance itself didn't kill. Ten thousand rifles; that's about five hundred thousand bullets, all of which fragment on impact. Five hundred cannons, hundred of which long range, and fifteen thousand pikes, designed in a similar manner to the lances.
May the God protect us, thought the First of the Equal, as the pikes proudly moved up and down, forming waves, as if one was looking at a sea...
(I'll go on to battle when I can be bothered. This is basically a steampunkie, scince-fictionie sort of thing I was bored and so wrote. It's set on Earth, round about in our times, but where Monarchy never lost popularity, but instead simply grew in strength, leaving Europe in two super powers; the Western Empire and the Eastern Kingdom. It's a short story though, so I'll probably finish at or after the battle xD)
"Ready your rifles, noble sirs, for it appears that the Imperials are charging at us," said Sir Garlok. The Noble Soldiers didn't have to be reminded again. They all took out their rifles, all covered with silver and gold, except the ebony used for the handles and the stocks. They calmly took aim, as each judged the distance.
"I can see the white in their eyes by now, Good Patron Garlok," noted, quite politely and quite accurately Noble Brother Darktul, taking a gentle aim.
The horses approached quickly, their synthetic muscles shining in the sun with steel. The enemy took their lances down, aiming at the opposing force, made up of Noble Soldiers. Each of the nobles took an aim at one of the riders, and there was a sharp, quick screech of "Fire!" by Noble Brother Garlok. There were about ten pops, followed by an explosion from each barrel, where pressure finally found its escape route, pushing out the large calibre bullets. A careful, genetically enhanced eye would be able to spot how each bullet enters the helmet, and then the skull of a different soldiers, breaking apart in between, showing smaller lead pallets which easily made their way inside, leaving a horrific mess inside.
The first line broke, as it could be expected from such a horrendous volley. The horses of the second line panicked, never expecting what happened to the rank of riders in front, and went completely out of control.
"May I admire your splendid shot, Noble Brother Korpol," praised the mass of a man that was Sir Borntal. "I believe, however, that I took out two, while you only managed one."
"Please, after this minor conflict is over, why, I invite you to sabres," chuckles Mister Korpol, before adding, "A nice duel between friends is always a splendid sight, for Venit honos ex virtute, Hmm?"
"Indeed I must agree," replied Borntal, though he realized that he had no chance against the far skinnier Korpol if it came to sabres.
"Well, noble gentlemen, it appears we are needed elsewhere. Let us report to the headquarters, stating that the Imperials are now sending Lancers," said Sir Gorlok, before adding, "Lancers are like their elite, almost. It seems that we shall soon finally taste some proper battle, not this filth that peasants should take care of."
The riders went off into the distance, leaving only bodies of the dead to be ripped apart by ravens, and bolts of the horses, which were too scared to notice them gone...
"So the battle begins?" demanded answers Emperor Maredew, despite being on a steep hill and seeing what was below him.
"Indeed so. This shall be great," replied his right hand, First of the Equal, looking down proudly at the troops.
And quite the sight there was. Three thousand lances, all with electrical tips strong enough to stop one's heart if the lance itself didn't kill. Ten thousand rifles; that's about five hundred thousand bullets, all of which fragment on impact. Five hundred cannons, hundred of which long range, and fifteen thousand pikes, designed in a similar manner to the lances.
May the God protect us, thought the First of the Equal, as the pikes proudly moved up and down, forming waves, as if one was looking at a sea...
(I'll go on to battle when I can be bothered. This is basically a steampunkie, scince-fictionie sort of thing I was bored and so wrote. It's set on Earth, round about in our times, but where Monarchy never lost popularity, but instead simply grew in strength, leaving Europe in two super powers; the Western Empire and the Eastern Kingdom. It's a short story though, so I'll probably finish at or after the battle xD)
)