DeletedUser299
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It was a cold day in the world of Eremitage, a long winter was starting to turn into spring but it was hard coming. The trees were struggling to push forth their buds and the wild winds battered the shoots of flowers and grass poking through the late snows. Sunny spells were brief, pushed back from sight by driving rains and fierce winds from the north.
Amidst the unpredictable conditions a lone warrior was fighting his cause, holding back the hoards of inbred northerners that had gained so much control over his lands in recent times. Many of his allies were long dead, ground down by the relentless tide of work that was necessary to run their empires. Their castles lay in ruins, abandoned and left for nature to take back what was once its own.
The warrior fought on with courage and determination. He had pushed north, infiltrating an enemy stronghold area with great skill and speed. He was winning too, the pace of his advancement not able to be slowed by enemy supports. Armies of tens of thousands were destroyed in surprise attacks on castles where their villagers had long since lost any faith in their rulers.
The enemy had become nervous. They were nothing without the control to which they had become accustomed, control which had been gifted to them almost on a whim by commanders too tired to continue in the fight. The enemy were powerless against the warrior's incursion, with no visibility of where and when the next attack would come. The largest enemy players on the world came together to discuss this threat. Kings and lords that had millions, even tens of millions of troops at their disposal, ready to fight, ready to send into the region to regain control and take back what was once theirs.
But alas, fear had overcome them. Dare they risk their troops? Their precious troops? Even though the warrior was deep behind enemy lines, his supports over a day's travel across baron hills and through treacherous forests? No, they were overcome with fear. Too cowardly to act. Too cowardly even when they had the huge advantage in numbers. No, they said, we must not risk our precious troops, we must not step out from the safety of our castles.
The enemy leaders retreated to the back allies and dark taverns of their cities, calling upon their most twisted and untrustworthy citizens who were desperate for work. Work from which there would be no return. They were told they would be martyrs, forever remembered. But they were simply an easy way out for those kings and lords too scared to enter battle, who had become fat with luxury for too long. While the troops feasted and drank ales the newly recruited spies left the safety of their homes and began the long trek into the wilderness. Like the leaders who cowered behind their gold clad walls the spies cowered their way through the terrain laden with explosives and enough food and water for the journey. The one way journey.
The warrior could only watch as his castles and walls tumbled. With no troops in sight he was unable to react, unable to prevent the almost invisible onslaught from the darkness. Invisible until it was too late. City after city left in ruins with no battle, no glory, no bravery to be remembered. No stories to be told.
And the cowards feasted.
“A man that flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a short cut to meet it.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien
Amidst the unpredictable conditions a lone warrior was fighting his cause, holding back the hoards of inbred northerners that had gained so much control over his lands in recent times. Many of his allies were long dead, ground down by the relentless tide of work that was necessary to run their empires. Their castles lay in ruins, abandoned and left for nature to take back what was once its own.
The warrior fought on with courage and determination. He had pushed north, infiltrating an enemy stronghold area with great skill and speed. He was winning too, the pace of his advancement not able to be slowed by enemy supports. Armies of tens of thousands were destroyed in surprise attacks on castles where their villagers had long since lost any faith in their rulers.
The enemy had become nervous. They were nothing without the control to which they had become accustomed, control which had been gifted to them almost on a whim by commanders too tired to continue in the fight. The enemy were powerless against the warrior's incursion, with no visibility of where and when the next attack would come. The largest enemy players on the world came together to discuss this threat. Kings and lords that had millions, even tens of millions of troops at their disposal, ready to fight, ready to send into the region to regain control and take back what was once theirs.
But alas, fear had overcome them. Dare they risk their troops? Their precious troops? Even though the warrior was deep behind enemy lines, his supports over a day's travel across baron hills and through treacherous forests? No, they were overcome with fear. Too cowardly to act. Too cowardly even when they had the huge advantage in numbers. No, they said, we must not risk our precious troops, we must not step out from the safety of our castles.
The enemy leaders retreated to the back allies and dark taverns of their cities, calling upon their most twisted and untrustworthy citizens who were desperate for work. Work from which there would be no return. They were told they would be martyrs, forever remembered. But they were simply an easy way out for those kings and lords too scared to enter battle, who had become fat with luxury for too long. While the troops feasted and drank ales the newly recruited spies left the safety of their homes and began the long trek into the wilderness. Like the leaders who cowered behind their gold clad walls the spies cowered their way through the terrain laden with explosives and enough food and water for the journey. The one way journey.
The warrior could only watch as his castles and walls tumbled. With no troops in sight he was unable to react, unable to prevent the almost invisible onslaught from the darkness. Invisible until it was too late. City after city left in ruins with no battle, no glory, no bravery to be remembered. No stories to be told.
And the cowards feasted.
“A man that flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a short cut to meet it.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien