The Rise and Fall of the Mallorean Empire

[Iñnsomñni]

Background Information:
Data: Unknown
Location: The Mallorean States
Nationality: Mallorians

(Just a note, this is the making of the Mallorean empire, the Majuk Tribe is not actually the Mallorean empire, the unification will happen later on)

It Begins....

Barthole looked up from his meal of berries and twigs, across the encampment to the moon resting on the nearby hills, along with its many followers, the famous stars. Barthole sighed, got up from his log, and slowly walked to the equipment tent to grab a blanket, when he caught sight of a shadow blotting out part of the sun. Barthole realised he was the only one to notice the figure who had blotted out the sun, but as he stared up in confusion, the figure lifted his head, and the feathers on the figures helmet stood out from even where Barthole stood, they gleamed in the sunlight, a Navy Blue colour, the colour of the Kingdom of Upper Nadrak...

''Batwoa! Batwoa!'' Barthole raised the alarm as the camp turned from its silent, peacful gesture to a confused madhouse. Hundred of soldiers rushed from their tents, armed with spears and shortswords made of the finest Bronze. Their loinclothes discarded in the prescence of enemy soldiers, the Majuk warriors stood proud, their bodies gleaming in the fire light, their eyes hungry for a sight of danger. Barthole gleamed with a sense of pride and honour, to have been excepted into a group of the mightiest warriors of the Majuk Tribes.

Captain Tomaous led a detachment of his bodyguards towards Barthole, a hell of a man, Barthole thought. Captain Tomaous stood a head taller than the second largest man in the camp, with an equally mighty physique. The man war built especially for war, Barthole thought. ''You! Rank and name, and a status report'' Captain Tomaous roared at Barthole, his nostrils contacting and expanding like that of an angry boar.
''Support Unit, Barthole Varathe... I saw a man on the hill, his feathers shone a navy blue, the scourge of the Upper Nadrak are upon us!'' Barthole exclaimed.
''How do you expect me to believe that, maggot, there is no proof of this man!'' Captain Tomaous bellowed as the stars themselves began to burn and flash, then slowly descended upon the camp, a rain of deadly fire arrows. The Heads glinted in the firelight, the heads were made of Bronze, the soldiers shields would offer them little protection...
Barthole swiftly leaped over a burning corpse to crawl under a large outcrop of a huge bolder, to find already that dozens of men were sheltering there.

[Iñnsomñni]

Its not exactly Historical, its just a figment of my 14 year old imagination, if its not your cup of tea, i have no quarrel with you, just go find something you do like...

Need the toilet, ill write more later...

[Iñnsomñni]

Barthole watched in horror as the Fire arrows rained upon the camp, killing thousands of men, destroying a thousand pounds of golds worth of equipment. The few remaining survivors were distraught, but hungry for revenge. They had just witnessed their friends and comrades massacred, the worthiest men in all of Majuk cut down by the lowest form of soldier alive, the Nadrak Cobras. As Barthole watched the camp burn and the remaining survivors die from their wounds, he saw the advancing infantry, there must have been 10,000 of them, no perhaps closer to 20,000, Barthole could not tell. Their Bronze helmets glinted in the firelight, the Ivory Horns sharpened menacingly. The painted patterns on their shields were of devils and evil creatures, of fire and death....

''We must get out of here, we are outnumbered and unequipped!'' A large man said to his comrades as the Nadrak heavy Infantry advanced. Others declared their agreement in grunts and nods, the majority of them were unable to speak, the shock and horror still gripped them. As the few remaining survivors prepared to escape into the forest, a clear and familiar voice spoke, ''You know that is impossible, Ingurd, they have archers surrounding the place, a large party of this would certainly be spotted as soon as we leave the shelter, we must prepare a distraction, so one of us may escape to tell our Chieftans to rally their armies and prepare for battle!'' Tomaous spoke calmly. Once again, the sound of his voice had rallied the remaining survivors, their faces looked eager, but Barthole could tell they were afraid, for they knew that a distraction would mean attacking the Nadrak frontline, and fighting to the death...

''Now, to choose who shall return to tell our chieftans of this battle, and prepare him for the invasion that shall continue'' Tomaous spoke calmly as he surveyed the group, searching for a small, vigilant man, who had a chance of escaping from the area. He stopped infront of Barthole, ''You shall do, prepare for some hard running...'' Tomaous said as began to stretch and prepare for the battle that lay ahead of him. ''But... I will stay and fight, i shall not retreat at the sight of danger, for honour, for valour, for the Majuk bless his soul!'' Barthole declared, as the veteran warriors turned around and admired the lads courage, for a boy of 16 years, he had learned well.
''Either you go, boy, or have the blood of our entire tribe upon your hands, you are the smallest and most agile, you shall accomplish your task and bring glory to the Majuk Tribes!'' Tomaous spoke, words of wisdom and truth, although Barthole was a rather bulky lad for his age, he was the smallest and most agile, as the majority of the remaining warriors were veterans, made for brutal hand-to-hand combat, they had become heavy footed, after countless Battles, they had realised that a light charge does nothing, wheras an all out rush shatters the enemy, destroys all resistance.

[Iñnsomñni]

The warriors began to arm themselves, lifting large logs to batter the enemy with, until they could find a more suitable weapon once they engaged the enemy. Barthole stripped naked, only taking his dagger with him, to hunt for food, hack through thick vegetation, and defend himself if he encountered any anything hostile on his journey. ''You have done a brave thing here, Captain, our great nation shall not forget your bravery, may the stars guide you to the afterlife'' Barthole said, his emotions racing.

As Tomaous prepared to leave, he turned back to Barthole, and spoke for possibly the last time ''Farewell, Barthole, may you walk in light in the dark times that approach.'' Then he turned away, picked up his club, and charged along with the rest of the survivors. All Barthole heard after that was lost at the sudden beating of Bronze upon Bronze as the Nadrak hordes advanced upon the remaining survivors. The the sudden sound of Bowstrings twanging and a deathly silence followed...

[Iñnsomñni]

Barthole fell down several hours later, due to exhaustion, he hadnt been able to sleep during the following night, the massacre had happened just as the sentries had changed. Barthole was surrounded in dense Vegetation, he couldnt see the dirt of the floor, it was covered in plants, of all colours and varieties. Then, as a figure approached him, darkness shrouding him so it was impossible to see the mans face, Barthole fell into a deep, dark sleep.

His dreams were filled with images of the Massacre, of the arrows burying themselves into his comrades, being helpless to intervene as all he had come to love had been torn apart. He saw again the Feathers atop the helmet of the figure who had stood before the moon, fearless and eager to participate in the masscre.

As Barthole awoke, he looked around to find that he was no still on the Jungle floor, but was inside some kind of tent, the tent was filled with the aroma of heated meat, of thick stews which made Bartholes mouth water. As he attempted to get up, he asked the figure leaning over the cooking fire ''Who are you, why have you brought me to this place, where am i?'' Bartholes questions were endless, but the figure was completely ignoring him, until Barthole realised that he figure was actually a Woman, and that he was naked in her prescence.

Barthole jumped to his feet, grabbed his dagger and drew back the Hide door of the tent, and was just about to step through and wander off when the woman replied ''My name is Inga, this is my tent, you are currently in the town of Harratash, a few miles from where i found you whilst hunting last night''. The Womans voice was a sweet, fluent and meladious. Her hair was Raven black, tied at one end by a strand of cloth, and Barthole realised that she must be one of the refugees travelling south into the heart of the Induk Mountains, where the endless vallies and forests full of dangers discouraged even the most confident Explorers.

''What were you doing in the Jungle last night, it is odd to find somebody roaming around one of the largets forests in the land, at nightime, i hardly venture into it in the day...'' The Woman asked, her sweet voice clearing Bartholes mind of the bloody images of the Massacre that had happened the day before. ''I must reach holy city of Majuk, i have a report for the war chieftans.'' Barthole replied, not giving away any of the information to this stranger.

[The Stranger]

someone said stranger?

[Tamur]

I like the flow of the story. There are some grammatical/spelling troubles but the situation is a good setup for an adventure. One suggestion is to ask yourself questions about Barthole. Up to now he has only been reacting to circumstances around him, which is fine given the circumstances. But we know very little about him as a character -- likes, dislikes, background, goals, etc. Make sure he's showing himself and not just reacting to his environment.

And keep writing! I'm interested to see where this all leads him.