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by XetaJTS

Vision: the picture is simple and easy to look at, it has a clear image and is enjoyable to see. Originality: It would have been really...


First off. I kind of want Pizza now. Second, even though I don't necessarily agree with you (I think this guy needs to be baked and ser...

by MargaHG

Vision: I really enjoyed the modern feel this picture has. Like I can perfectly see this happening in the Glass castle or in a New York...

by Dori-to

This is my first time making a critique. So I'm sorry if it isn't very good. Its a simple yet extremely enjoyable idea. The coloring an...

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Literature
History of the Goeben
The SMS Goeben
Design
The Goeben was a Moltke-class Battlecruiser. These were better armored and larger than their British counterpart. She was 186.6 meters (612 ft 2 in) long, 29.4 m (96 ft) wide, and had a 22,979 t (22,616 long tons) displacement level. For boilers it had 24 coal fired boilers which gave it a top speed of 25.5 nautical miles. The Goben boasted an arsenal of ten 28cm guns, a dozen 15cm guns as secondary weapons and a further 12 8.8cm guns plus 4 50mm submerged torpedo tubes.
History
The Goeben was the second Moltke-class battlecruiser to be built by the Imperial German Navy. She was ordered on August 8 1909, completed on march 28 1911, and commissioned on July 2 1912.
When the First Balkan War broke out in October of that year, the German high command decided that they would need to have a naval presence in the Mediterranean sea. The Goeben and a light cruiser called the Breslau were selected to make up the new naval Mediterranean division. They visited a number of po
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Animated Atrocities: Corruption :iconironwarchiefwarsong:Ironwarchiefwarsong 0 0 Animated Atrocities: Honk :iconironwarchiefwarsong:Ironwarchiefwarsong 1 0
Literature
The Rising Lion Chapter 2
Word had already started to filter out by runner to the various fortresses that mobilization had begun. By the time Cassius and his army had passed by several fortresses it’s soldiers were already ready and waiting to join his army, swelling his numbers by nearly two hundred. Although a meager amount compared to his already eight thousand strong force, they were without question more valuable than any other unit in his army.
The Trepan army was greatly reduced during the War of Rendings, and even more so when nobles such as Cassius divided the weakened army to serve as their own personal military. Barely half of his invasion force would consist of true battle tested Trepan soldiers. The rest would be made of militias with only the most basic of training, or mercenaries whose loyalties were questionable at best.
It would take only a few weeks until all ten of his Legions would arrive to Cassius's camp. In the meantime, his standing troops had begun to make preparations for their a
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Literature
Meet the Writer
Caesar Flickerman: Hello folks, today we have a special guest for my interview. The self-declared lost emperor to the Roman Empire. And he's here not just because he's holding my dog at gunpoint.
Me: Yes thank you it's an honor to be here for your interview.
Caesar Flickerman: Now Mr. lord high emperor?
Me: Quiet, introverted and with a fiery temper, though always willing to help.
Caesar Flickerman: So tell me, sir, what is your favorite book?
Me: Quite a few actually, but as of now I'd have to go with Then Summoner Trilogy, Powdermage series, Throne of Glass series and Game of Thrones.
Caesar Flickerman: Fascinating. Now, what about TV? I'm sure everyone loves TV. What are some programs you enjoy?
Me: Probably gonna have to go with Fresh Off the Boat and Supergirl for live action and for animated I enjoy We Bare Bears, Star Wars the Clone Wars, Young Justice, My Little Pony and Attack on Titan.
Caesar Flickerman: What do you take inspiration from? Any words of wisdom that you live by?
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Literature
The Survivors Chapter 5
Arius's POV
For almost two days my army treks through the dark forests of Silverpine. From Dalaran we've passed through Pyrewood to resupply and warn off the villagers of the danger. Though they were happy to give us any aid we needed, they refused to heed our warnings and said they would not evacuate yet.
Light have mercy on their souls. I close my eyes as I ride outside of the camp on my warhorse.
In all fairness, the army has been making good time. Within the first two days of the expedition the force have already marched a good distance and is already approaching the first village, Silverglen.
Silverglen was what from the guides said, was a rather large town of about five thousand souls which is located along the main road of southern Silverpine, not too far north from Shadowfang Keep. This meant that is the undead were going to launch an invasion of Silverpine, that village would most likely be attacked.
I slowly begin to turn my stallion around and head back to camp. It was built
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Literature
The Survivors Chapter 4
Arius's POV
I trudge through the abandoned streets of the Capital City, keeping my hammer ready in case any stray undead remain. The fighting in this section of the city had largely died out in this part of the city save for a little scattered action here and there.
The only reason I was here was to make one final sweep for survivors before leaving. But by the looks of it the only thing left were the hollowed out shells of the buildings which even still were barely left standing, the scattered bones and bits of flesh of Arthas's troops and the human corpses too badly damaged to be of use.
The part that hits the hardest was the smell. The whole area reeks of rotting flesh and the smoke from burning buildings. 'I wonder if the residents survived.' I muse as I walk past a shop with smog still coming out.
I keep my hammer close to my chest as I accidentally step on some gravel and jump back in surprise. A tight coil grips around my chest as I try to keep my breathing steady. Aside from the
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Literature
The Rising Lion Chapter 1
Chapter 1
“How many Ciahmashi villagers are we talking about?” Lady-General Eliana Amora demanded as she squatted down behind a dirt mound. She directed her question towards the young man mounted on a light, swift moving horse. Her glare bored into him with such intensity that the scout backed away.
He was reed thin, with hawkish features that were complemented with a mane of long, dark hair and wild gray eyes danced around with the horses every move. The scout wore light mail armor over his normal clothes that gave no indication to his rank or title.
He did some mental calculations, muttering to himself as well as counting with his fingers before coming up with his answer. “Over two thousand.”
Two thousand. Eliana’s heartbeat quickened as she heard that number. In the past few months of campaigning that she had launched throughout the Aps wood, the place where thousands of Ciahmashi barbarians had taken refuge, she had never encountered a group of more th
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Literature
Toon Theories episode 1: Spongebob Krabby Patties
Are you ready kids?
Ready to learn what's really in those delicious Krabby Patties you love to eat? Well the answer might surprise you. Its drugs.
Now if you allow me to put my tinfoil hat on before rioting outside my house. *Ducks from a few flying daggers* 
huh. I guess not.
But onwards to my toon theory!
Lets us look at some of the evidence.
    1.     The Krabby Patty secret formula is highly secret to the point it seems that even the fry cook who makes it, Spongebob doesn’t seem fully aware of what's in it. It's been referenced in many episodes that Mr Krabs doesn’t allow Spongebob speak of it that Mr Krabs just doesn’t let him remember it. Perhaps that he understands Spongebob has a bit of a big mouth and wants him in the dark to what's going into the Krabby Patties as not to have him blab to the police?
    2.     Also consider this, isn’t a common way of hiding and consu
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Literature
The Rising Lion. (My first fantasy novel)
Prologue
Prince Alexander Scipio lifts his soup spoon up to his lips and gently slurps its contents. He nearly spits out its contents and drops his spoon as a he feels the hot liquid trickle from his mouth down his throat.
He reaches for the goblet of water and swallows a large gulp. He inhales a few breathes through his mouth and then reaches to the side of the desk where his spoon fell.
Muttering a curse, he wipes it with his napkin and sets it aside for his servant to clean. He pushes his soup aside and reaches for the loaf of bread beside it and begins to spread butter on it.
Just as he was about to bring the sweetened bread to his mouth, he hears a loud banging sound coming from his door. It carried itself through the Prince's modest room and hung in the air.
Alexander sets his food down and glares at the oaken doors. "Speak!"
"Its me your highness." The smooth and calculating voice gave away his identity. "Consul Cassius."
"Ahhh. Come in Cassius." Alexander replies, intentionally
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Rome Total War battle diagram. :iconironwarchiefwarsong:Ironwarchiefwarsong 1 0
Literature
The Survivors chapter 3
Arius's POV
It took a few precious moments to realize that burning sensation was in fact my cloak which was lighted on fire. In a desperate panic I swat at the flames to try batting it out.
After a few futile attempts I simply removes it and turn to face the source.
A magi stands before me with another fireball growing in the palm of his hands. He was surprisingly young to be in a battle like this. He had well trimmed gray beard that would have made a Wildhammer dwarf proud. Unlike the others who wore the dark robes to signify themselves members of the Cult of the Damned, he's dressed in the purple and gold of Dalaran.
His hazel eyes widen in surprise that I haven't burned to death and launches another fireball. I was ready this time and sidestep it. The flames move past my back, leaving it blistered under my chestplate.
My hand moves forward in his direction and I cast my own spell. The mages muscles tightens as he tries to move, but finds himself frozen in place.
I raises my hammer a
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Pokemon Go in real life :iconironwarchiefwarsong:Ironwarchiefwarsong 2 0
Literature
The Survivors chapter 2
No POV
A Dragonhawk lays curled on one of the many tiled roofs of Dalarans residential district. It looks over the edge and flutters down to a balcony where a snoozing High Elf.
The orange Dragonhawk lands on her chest and squeaks softly several times to her ear, as if trying to wake her up. She seems to stir as the elf grouses and shift around in her chair. "Ya, I'm up." The elf groans, rubbing her eyes as her pet flies off her and hovers in front of her.
She stretches her long legs and stands up to look over her balcony. The elf smiles and watches the beautiful city she lives in for a few long moments. Her Dragonhawk nuzzles her shoulder to get her attention, then points its beak at the clock tower.
His owner looks up and frowns as she sees the time. "Alright Skytear, but just let me finish some things first." She says, running her fingers across the mess of blonde hair that flows down her head in curly locks. Grabbing the leather boots that rest beside her chair and tugging them on
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Literature
Warcraft Fanfiction: The Survivors
No POV
Lordaeron has fallen and Terrenas is dead.
Those words still ring around Uther's head even weeks after Arthas had returned and murdered his father. He now leads his small party eastwards to Andorhal.
"Faster all of you!" Uther shouts, looking back at the nine other Paladins riding to keep up with him. "We're nearly at Andorhal."
"Why are we going there? Shouldn't we join the rest of the army in the resistance against the Undead?" One of the younger Paladins asks.
Uther stops and wheels his mount around to face the one who said that. "Because lad, Terrenas led this kingdom fairly and justly for fifty years. The least we can do for him is make sure he receives a proper burial." His face hardens. "And I'll be damned before I let Arthas get his hands on this."
They all respond by urging their mounts forward.
He hefts the urn that is cradled under the crook of his arm while the other grips the reins of his charger. The urn was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship with intricate carving
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Literature
Star Wars the Clone Wars Review: Storm over Ryloth
Episode name: Storm Over Ryloth
Episode number: 19(in season 1) 19 (overall)
Production No: 2.24
Air date: February 27, 2009
Director(s): Brian Kalin O'Connell
Writer(s): George Krstic
Brief synopsis: Ahsoka disobeys Anakin's orders and loses most of her squadron, forcing Anakin to teach her a lesson.
Plot: The episode starts with Ahsoka commanding a fighter squadron for the first time against the Separatist blockade on Ryloth. Her job is to clear a path for the invasion fleet to liberate Ryloth for a Droid occupation.
After some encouragement from Anakin she begins her attack. Initially things seem to go well for them as Ahsoka and her fighters cut through the waves of Droid fighters sent against her and prepare to make a stab at the Separatist command ship. However the enemy commander calls in four additional Droid frigates from hyperspace and join the blockade.
Anakin and Admiral Yularen immediately want to recall Ahsoka’s squadron in order to defend the fleet who are being sw
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The SMS Goeben




Design
The Goeben was a Moltke-class Battlecruiser. These were better armored and larger than their British counterpart. She was 186.6 meters (612 ft 2 in) long, 29.4 m (96 ft) wide, and had a 22,979 t (22,616 long tons) displacement level. For boilers it had 24 coal fired boilers which gave it a top speed of 25.5 nautical miles. The Goben boasted an arsenal of ten 28cm guns, a dozen 15cm guns as secondary weapons and a further 12 8.8cm guns plus 4 50mm submerged torpedo tubes.


History
The Goeben was the second Moltke-class battlecruiser to be built by the Imperial German Navy. She was ordered on August 8 1909, completed on march 28 1911, and commissioned on July 2 1912.

When the First Balkan War broke out in October of that year, the German high command decided that they would need to have a naval presence in the Mediterranean sea. The Goeben and a light cruiser called the Breslau were selected to make up the new naval Mediterranean division. They visited a number of ports all over the Mediterranean before returning to Pola and remained there from August 21 to October 16 for maintenance.

On June of the next year the Second Balkan War broke out and the Mediterranean squadron was kept in that area. On October 23 a new officer, admiral Souchon took command of the squadron. In between that time and of World War I, they had visited around 80 ports throughout the sea.

Plans were made to have the Goeben pulled out of the squadron and replaced with her sister ship the Moltke. However the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and the tensions between nations that followed prevented this from happening. Admiral Souchon deduced that war would happen soon and fled back to Pola were repairs were made on the Goeben. Afterwards she fled to Messina.

Kaiser Wilhelm II had ordered the squadron in the event of war should either.
Attempt to break out to the Atlantic
Or remain in the Mediterranean and raid the French colonies there.

Souchon chose the latter and the Goeben sailed to Philippeville and shelled it. Afterwards the Admirals Alfred von Tirpitz and Hugo von Pohl contacted Souchon and informed him to sail to Constantinople.

Since they could not reach Constantinople without refueling, the Goeben and Breslau stopped in Messina. On the way there they ran into a pair of British battleships, but since the British Empire had not yet declared war on Germany, they did not fire on each other.

In Messina the Mediterranean squadron ran into a complication. Since Italy declared neutrality they were only allowed to remain there for 24 hours, but sympathetic Italians allowed them to stay for around 36 hours and refilled the Germans coal stocks, though not enough to reach Constantinople.

They planned to reach another port in the Aegean where they could refuel but on the way they ran into a number of British ships. The managed to lose them by pretending to sail to the Adriatic sea. The British Admiral in command of this squadron quickly realized his mistake and turned to pursue the Germans. Admiral Souchon’s squadron managed to evade the British in the middle of the night and the British broke of the chase.

They managed to refuel in Naxos Greece before finally sailing to Constantinople. The Ottoman government welcomed the Germans and proposed selling the ships to them in order to get around the neutrality laws. Before the Germans could even respond to this the Ottomans announced that they had purchased the Mediterranean squadron for 80 million marks and already held a ceremony inducting them into the Ottoman navy which the Goeben was renamed the Yavuz Sultan Selim. The Germans agreed and the crews of the Goeben and Breslau were given Ottoman uniforms and fezzes.  

The Yavuz took part in the attack against Sevastopol to draw the Ottoman Empire into the war. During the encounter the Yavuz was struck several times by Russian shells, though the damage was minimal. On the way back she attacked a Russian destroyer and damaged it, drawing Russia to declare war on the Ottoman Empire.

The Yavuz was easily the most powerful ship in both the navies which forced the Russians to consolidate their fleets together in order to not be defeated one by one by the Yavuz.

During one encounter in November 18, a Russian task force encountered the Yavuz and the Midilli. (The new name of the Breslau) on their way from Trebizond. The area was foggy so the Russian attempted to use the tactic of concentrating fire until the Ottoman ships could be seen by a master ship. A Russian ship fired and managed to hit one of the Yavuz 15cm turrets. This caused a detonation of already live shells there and resulted in the deaths of 13 men and another 3 wounded.

The Yavuz returned fire and struck the master ships antenna leaving them unable to transmit proper firing data. She managed to damage another ship before Admiral Souchon decided to withdraw.

She would spend the rest of the year escorting Ottoman transport ships until on December 26 when she struck a pair of mines. The damage wasn’t too serious but over 600 tons of water flooded into her. There was no dock capable to servicing the Yavuz so emergency repairs were made.

Despite the damage sustained, the Yavuz was able to help escort a number of ships. By May 26 1915 she had begun to undergo repairs, though she was pulled out on April 1, before repairs were finished.

During one mission, the cruiser she and the Midilli were protecting struck a mine and was struck. They sank a number of Russian cargo ships before fleeing back to Ottoman waters.

On the 25th of April during the allied attack on the Dardanelles, the Yavuz was sent there to help in the bombardment of the Allied troops. Several times she was spotted and forced to flee. After she was sent to the Black Sea in order to search for Russian ships that bombarded Ottoman fortifications but found none. On the way back she was attacked by a pair of Russian battleships. The Yavuz suffered from two hits but was able to escape. Later, several of her secondary and tertiary weapons were taken out for ground use.

After that, the Yavuz would spend the rest of the year escorting transports and coal ships between Ottoman territory, though suffering several casualties. Eventually after getting struck by two torpedoes on a mission, Admiral Souchon deemed the Battlecruiser too valuable to lose.

During another operation in 1916, the Yavuz encountered a pair of Russian destroyers while escorting a coal ship. The coal ship was destroyed and she was supposed turned to retreat. But the damages significantly slowed down the Yavuz ns now show that they can no longer escape as easily.

At this point, the Russians were gaining more and more ground in the Ottoman Caucasus. The Yavuz with suppose the Ottoman army in this campaign by transporting troops, equipment or by giving naval support. Eventually due to coal shortages the Yavuz was permanently docked in port.

It was only after the Bolshevik Revolution that coal started arriving in Turkey.

By 1918, Admiral Souchon was replaced with Vice Admiral Rebeur-Paschwitz and deployed the Yavuz and Midilli down to Palestine in order to draw the Royal Navy away from the coast to prevent them from supporting the land offensive there. They successfully destroyed several monitors there before the Midilli struck a mine and was sunk.

The Yavuz was struck by three more and forced to retreat to the Dardanelles, pursued by British Destroyers. On the way back she was beached just outside the Dardanelles at Nagara point. There she was attacked by the Royal air force, but the light aircraft did not have enough firepower to destroy her. A monitor attacked her with its cannons but was forced to retreat due to Turkish artillery fire. A submarine was sent to finish the job but a German battleship was able to tow the Yavuz away to safer waters.

It was part of the escort the Ottoman representatives took to Odessa after the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk was signed. Afterwards she had several repairs done in Sevastopol.

The Yavuz was part of the taskforce sent to Novorossiysk in order to intern the remaining Soviet Union ships there but found all of them scuttled. The Yavuz returned to Constantinople where it underwent extensive repairs until October.

After the war, according to the Treaty of Sèvres, the Yavuz was to be handed over to the Royal Navy, but after the Turkish war of independence another treaty was agreed upon called the Treaty of Lausanne which allowed the newly formed Republic of Turkey to keep the Yavuz.

For years after World War I, the Yavuz was left in a state of disrepair. Although plans were made for refurbishment, nothing ever came out of it. She remained in Izmit until 1926 until enough funds were raised to purchase a floating dock that could transport the Yauz. (As she was so badly damaged that she could not actually be towed without risk of her sinking.)

The French company Atelier et Chantiers de St. Nazaire-Penhöet was contracted in December 1926 to begin the refits and repairs. For the next three years the Yavuz would undergo extensive repairs and was delayed several times for various reasons such as embezzlement and damage sustained while transporting the ship.

The need for the Yavuz to return to service became even greater as the Soviet Union and Greek navies were built up. By 1930 the repairs were completed. But by the end of the refits her displacement grew to 23,100, she was reduced in length by half a meter but her beam size increased by 10 cm and two of her 15mm guns were removed. She was also given new boilers, a fire control system. She was also renamed from Yavuz Sultan Selim, to simply Yavuz Sultan.

In her speed tests the Yavuz performed far better than expected, and fairly well in her gunnery and fire control trials. She was later placed back at the head of the Turkish navy. However in response to her return to service, both the Greek and Soviet government beefed up their own navies. Throughout the 30s she spent her time transporting dignitaries between countries such as Prime Minister İsmet İnönü from Varna to Istanbul. By 1936 her name was changed once again, this time being shortened to only Yavuz.

During this time she was also considered outdated by other navies due to having poor Anti-aircraft capabilities. In 1938 during a naval program, she was to remain as one of two cruisers until another ship could be built. But these plans were put on hold as no foreign shipyard was available at this time due to the outbreak of World War II.

The Yavuz remained in service throughout World War II, and was one of two capital ships in the Black Sea. (The other being the Soviet Parizhskaya Kommuna.) Her anti-aircraft weapons were improved in 1941, bringing it up to four 88mm guns, ten 40mm guns, and four 20mm guns. On April 5 1946, an American task force consisted of the Battleship USS Missouri, a light cruiser Providence and the Destroyer Power arrived in Istanbul to return the remains of Mehmet Munir Ertegun, the Turkish ambassador to the League of Nations who died of a heart attack. The Yavuz came out to greet the ships, exchanging a 19-gun salute with the Missouri.

She remained in either Izmit or Golcik from 1948 until 1950. After that she was that, she was decommissioned in December 20 1950. When Turkey joined NATO in 1952, she was assigned the hull number B70. The Turkish government offered to sell the ship back to West Germany as a museum ship in 1963, but was declined.

She was finally sold for scrapping in 1971 and the job was finished in February 1976.

Trivia
The Yavuz Sultan Selim was the last ship of the German Imperial Navy to be decommissioned in December of 1950, and also the last Dreadnaught to be dismantled outside of those belonging to America.
The British Empire initially didn’t question the sudden purchase of the Goeben as they believed that the Ottoman Empire was simply replacing the two Dreadnaughts that the British repossessed from them. (They were built by British companies and completed by World War I, but were taken by the Royal Navy and pressed into service.
The Goeben was the last Moltke-class Battlecruiser to be built.
In her few years in the Mediterranean Squadron, the Goeben was still more well travelled than me. :P
History of the Goeben
Something I was working on. Thoughts? Interesting? Good? Bad? 
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 I'm thinking about writing a series about the history of certain battleships. Top contenders are:
SMS Goeben (Imperial German Navy, Ottoman/Republic of Turkey Navy.)
FF-15 Gregorio Del-Pilar (United States of America Navy, Philippine Navy.)
The Queen Annes Revenge. (Blackbeard.)
Animated Atrocities: Corruption

Oh gods theres no doubt that season 3 is the worst season of the Clone Wars. And a pretty big reason for that is cause of political episodes like this one. The show has a habit of portraying politics as black and white or unrealistically, (like having one person who give a decent speech cause senators to have a complete change of heart.) 


The plot is that smugglers have smuggled poisoned tea into Mandalore which has poisoned children and its up to Statine and Padmé to solve the crisis.

 

Statine was absolutely awful in this episode. I don’t even understand how you could fuck up a character this much. From the pacifist who is so anti violence that she’s willing to accuse of escalating the Clone Wars, yet suddenly turns into a thug who outright threatens to have her guards beat up a suspect if he refuses to talk. Hell she even threatens to have a police officer who saved her life arrested because he refused to burn evidence. Then she has the gall to claim to be fighting corruption. Yes I understand that your destroying it to stop the poisoned goods from harming anyone but for the love of god thats the evidence to use against the criminals.


Normally I can even expect a decently written episode, but here there are some moments that come out of nowhere. Like in another scene when she and her advisors are discussing about food shortages, they suddenly accuse each other of being Separatist spies.


So to be blunt, this episode sucks.

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Animated Atrocities: Honk
Well, I decided to try this Animated Atrocities thing. I'm not really sure how to do this, so I would really appreciate hearing what you guys have to say.

Spoilers below






Wow, I was never a big Clarence fan, but at the same time I never thought of it as terrible either. But this episode is somehow Slide Whistle Stooges done even worse. So the plot of this episode is that Clarence isn’t able to talk very well with his friends so he gets a bike horn to compensate by being funny. At first he just used it to lighten up the mood during class, but eventually he uses it all the time and starts to annoy his classmates. Clarence becomes attached to the horn and acts almost like he’s an addict. Then it just ends with all his friends accepting the horns and playing with their own. (Despite them getting their horns for the purpose of teaching Clarence a lesson.) 

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Word had already started to filter out by runner to the various fortresses that mobilization had begun. By the time Cassius and his army had passed by several fortresses it’s soldiers were already ready and waiting to join his army, swelling his numbers by nearly two hundred. Although a meager amount compared to his already eight thousand strong force, they were without question more valuable than any other unit in his army.

The Trepan army was greatly reduced during the War of Rendings, and even more so when nobles such as Cassius divided the weakened army to serve as their own personal military. Barely half of his invasion force would consist of true battle tested Trepan soldiers. The rest would be made of militias with only the most basic of training, or mercenaries whose loyalties were questionable at best.

It would take only a few weeks until all ten of his Legions would arrive to Cassius's camp. In the meantime, his standing troops had begun to make preparations for their arrival. He had put his mercenaries and militia to work digging trenches and assembling their camp half a mile out from the Asaltian-Saldelle border.

“Hail Consul!” Tiberius shouted, raising his fist to his chest as a salute. He rode up to Cassius alongside several of his knights.

He inclined his head slightly to gesture for them to lower their hands. “What do you have to report?”

“Another three hundred fifty men arrived this morning.” Tiberius said. “That brings our forces to over eight and a half thousand men.”

Cassius nodded absently, but his mind was elsewhere. He allowed his horse slowly trot away from the group as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “Consul is something wrong?”

He looked up and saw the stocky Centurion regarded him with a frown. The Consul did not even look up when he spoke. “Tell me Centurion. Do you believe that our forces can defeat Eliana’s forces?”

“Of course.” He straightened his back and he announced proudly. “We outnumber her easily four to one and-”

“Bah. I mean our forces now! If she were to launch an attack right now against our camp do you believe that we can win?”

Now Tiberius looked less sure of himself. “Well uhhh.” He shifted from foot to foot. “I know that she has-

Cassius raised his hands to silence him. He spies had been quite insistent about the numbers of the Saldelle’s military. “I know, I know how many soldiers she has; about three thousand regular soldiers and two thousand militia, and her own knights. But that still does now answer my question.”

“Well.” The Centurion nibbled on his lip before shaking his head with a sigh. “No. I do not believe that we can take them if Eliana were to attack now. She would most likely defeat us. But I still do not understand the point you are trying to make sir.”

“That Amora woman is a wily one.” The Consul began to explain with a shake of his head. He had known her father in court. Aman dedicated to his duty, yet more often than not meddled with the nobility. “She’s unpredictable and one not to be underestimated. If you wish to defeat her, then you must be just as unpredictable. I have a few idea on how to accomplish that.”

“How?”

“Do you remember the island of Vraukx Centurion?”

Tiberius paused and thought about that question. He thought back to his time in the academy. “Wasn’t that an island. It was colonized twenty years ago but we couldn’t go any further since it was soon discovered that the mainland was already inhabited by the Nacane tribes.”

“Correct.” Cassius clapped him on the back. “But what those history books didn’t tell you was that I was able to secure the loyalty of the garrison there and that they tell me the tribes are being rallied under a single kingdom. Even their warriors are becoming a single army.”

Tiberius nodded, failing to hide his growing impatience. “Yes I’ve read the reports as well but what does this have to do with Eliana.” He questioned offhandedly

Cassius ignored his seconds tone and smirked at him. “Is it not obvious? I wish to recruit some of these savages into my army.”

“The savages?” He snorted, sounding not dissimilar to a pig. “Why? They’re even more unpredictable than the Ciahmashi and hate us just as much.”

“All good points, except these men were believed to be able to tame elephants, spit poison and even raise spirits. Mind you these are not simple tales from imaginative children or simple housewives. These were reports from the very garrison who regularly skirmishes with them.”

“It is a good plan.” Tiberius admitted, his sneer disappeared. “But their kingdom is not friendly with us. How do you plan on recruiting them?”

The Consul smirked and gave him a conspirator's wink. “I’ll leave that to you my friend. A flotilla of transports have already been assembled to transport you to
Nacane territory.”

“They will not go willingly.” Tiberius confided, now grinning from ear to ear. He fingered the Gladius at his belt. A notched sword with a piece of the blade missing. Around him the other knights chuckled.

Cassius had already lost interest in the conversation and started to lead his horse away. “I don’t care if you drag by them here by their hair and screaming so long as they can fight.”



The warriors laughed and clapped their hands as they listened to the tribal beat from their cattle hide drums and chanted a brutal, yet oddly beautiful war song. The tribesmen of the Nacane Kingdom formed a circle while a young warrior stood in the center and danced. It was an odd combination of stamping his feet with a few quick movements and some acrobatics.

“Drink up my friends.” One of the younger warriors emerged from their small watchtower he was supposed to be patrolling, but instead of a spear and shield, he bore a tray of wooden cups filled with wine. “Fresh from our friends in Trepis.”

He smirked and reached into his satchel. He produced a large, narrow bottle of green glass and swished it, no doubt containing more of the delicious beverage.

The camp exploded into cheers and many gladly took their cup and drank deeply, relishing the rare commodity of the smooth and sweet beverage, but one warrior smirked at him. A slender older male called Bheka. “Shouldn’t you be the one chiding us to get back into our posts Mhambi? Where is all that talk about wishing to taste battle?”

Young Mhambi did not even blink as he pulled his tray back. “Very well then, if you feel so strongly about it I suppose you share can go to someone else.” To prove his point, he reached out to take the cup until it was snatched by the warrior in question who quickly swallowed its contents.

“Bah, don’t think me a fool little cattle. I’m not letting you cheat this liquid honey from me.” He wiped droplets of wine from his lips. He lets out a great belch. “Those Trepans are bastards, but they know how to make a drink. It tastes like it's been made by the gods themselves. How did you even get this bottle?”

“Remember that camp of Trepans I spotted a week ago?”

“Yes,” Bheka glowers at him. “you told us about them and made us run nearly two miles only discover the packed up and left.” All the warriors were now facing him, glaring at him with unhappy scowls on their faces.

The little cattle rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his face flush. It was still a great humiliation for him. During his shift on the top of the tower, he spotted a group of Trepan poachers attempting to poach some of their cattle.

He had quickly told the others and organized a Warband, but by the time they arrived all the poachers had picked and left. With about half a dozen cattle with them. Yet it was evident that they knew of their arrival as they left their camp in a hurry. “Well, they left some things in camp, including an unopened bottle of wine that I was saving.”

Bheka grunts and holds up his mug forward. “Refill.” Mhambi obliges and pours him another glass. He swirls it around and takes a great sip. “So is this your form of an apology?” He swallows. “In that case I forgive you.”
Mhambi chuckled and finished his drink as well. It was good wine indeed, though he wasn’t a bug drinker. After one shoot he was done. Besides was still eager to get back to duty.

Older warriors like Bheka may enjoy to tease him about his enthusiasm for his duty. Chieftains often considered this post was nothing more than a stomping ground for young warriors, or a place of elders who could no longer fight to wallow. Yet Mhambi took pride in his service.

The small tower they manned was a key post in the Nacane kingdom. Once an ancient tower that was used to watch out for roving bands of raiders, it was recently rebuilt and used as it was one of the only places that watched the coastline from the island of Vraukx, an island that was taken over by settlers from Trepis.

They normally a rather peaceful island, yet recently they’ve have gotten increasingly aggressive in spite of the treaty they made with his uncles to halt the fortification of their city.

Now there were even rumors that a fleet of ships is being sent here, though whether it carried more settlers or an invasion force was still unclear.

The young warrior picked up his gear and excused himself, leaving the drink and revelries, pouring himself one more glass of wine which he carried with him to his post. He left their laughter and cheering behind him as he returned to his post.

His tower was just that, a single structure made from the Uaphreech tree. Four thick logs were its corners and rose thirty feet high while smaller logs crisscross around them to make an X while the top roof was a plank of wood with hide coverings.

He climbs the ramp that spiraled to the top and sat on its highest perch. At his vantage point, Mhambi had an unobstructed view of the entire coast that ran along the Emerald sea. In the distance, he could make out the shape of Vraukx island and the sturdy stone walls that made the town there a virtual stronghold, that is without even counting the sizable garrison within it.

The shadows part in the doorway behind him. Mhambi doesn’t seem concerned and simply sits down. “I see you didn’t join the others.” He said to the figure, offering his mug.

An ancient voice chuckled, though it sounded more like a croak. “When you are my age, drinking is not high on your priorities.” Though his words did not stop him from accepting the wine and finishing half of it in a few seconds.

One of the kingdom's oldest warriors, a man who saw its inception some sixty-odd years ago sits beside him. His real name was forgotten and now people have simply taken to calling him, Old Zuma. “Yet I notice you have not joined our friends down there as well.” His almond eyes watched the warriors dancing below with some longing. “Besides, someone must watch over the sea.”

Mhambi nodded, feeling a bit guilty that the old man had to remain here alone while others celebrated.  “But surely those rumors are just that, rumors.”

Even as he said it, Mhambi also questioned the truth in those words. It was merely an attempt to ease the aging warriors' mind. Yet the wrinkled face of Old Zuma pulled back to a frown. “That is not what the bones tell me.”

“The bones spoke with you?” He asked in disbelief. Bones and other remains were one of the methods used to commune with those who have passed and helped guide the tribes. Although bone reading was considered the least reliable method, it was also the most accessible way for warriors to commune with the spirits, if indirectly. “What did they say?”

In response, he reached into his pouch and threw a femur that was bleached with age onto the ground. It rattled against the wood yet even as it rolled to a stop, it continued to vibrate. Shaking as if there was an earthquake.

“Our people will experience a turbulent time, and I fear it will involve the Trepans.”

Mhambi took this in, feeling his spirits plummet to the ground. He wanted to curse whatever spirits or gods that were in skies above. Yet kept his tongue held back. If there were highers beings up there that are upset with them, the there was no point in aggravating them further.

Instead, his curses came down to the Trepans. The great Wolf of the North. They had brought trouble ever since the colonized Vraukx, demanding tribute, asking for warriors and parading around as if they were kings and the Nacane, their vassals.

The day he heard their capital fell to barbarians, Mhambi felt his spirits rejoice at the news. At the time it felt as though the yoke of Trepis was gone. Yet only a few months later, another master had come to take Nacane’s leash. Cassius, a lesser lord in the Trepan realm claimed Vraukx as his own.

Even though his armies were significantly smaller, they made up for it in brutality and audacity. Already several border skirmishes had broken out between Trepans and Nacane over the establishment of several military encampments at their coast.

That was the main reason why this watchtower was restored. The high chieftain insisted that we have a presence in the west. This tower once used to mark then seen by their explorers, now a vigil monitoring the ever growing expansion of the lions.

Mhambi spreads his arms out as he felt a powerful gust of wind blew at his face. He felt it the breeze caress his cheeks, as it gently whipped at his hair and cheeks and caught a hint of a salty tang from the sea beyond.

“What an excellent gale.” He said softly, closing his eyes. He heard the loud trumpeting noise coming from a herd of elephants. Mhambi watched the great gray beasts lumbered across then. open fields of the savannah. Then patriarch of the herd urging the young ones forward with his trunk.

Yet Old Zuma did not share the young Nacane’s enjoyments. He sat up straighter and squinted his eyes towards the sea, and he froze. Crying out in a hoarse, incoherent voice he stepped back and nearly lost his balance had Mhambi not picked him up. “Whats wrong?”

He pointed at the water, opening his mouth to speak but was assaulted by a coughing fit. “Ships.” He gasped out in between painful wheezes. “I saw ships in the distance. They bore sails of Trepis.”

“What?” Mhambi gasped and released the older warrior. He scanned the seas for the vessels.“Where? How many?”

“Ships transports from the looks of it. They were coming from Vraukx it would seem. I saw at least three of them, though who knows if there were more.”

“But we had a treaty.” He cried. “They are no longer allowed to fortify their settlement.”

Zuma pulled himself up from the ground and grabbed his young companion by a then shoulder, pulling him close and pointing. Mhambi now saw the ships, the Trepans accursed battleships. They bristled with weapons, trebuchets, ballistae and even a pair of fire lances at on either side of its ship.

In the few short moments that followed, Mhambi felt his heartbeat quicken. It was a bizarre mixture of excitement and fear. All the time he spent dreaming of something like this, yet all that dreams had never prepared him for something like this.

“What should we do?” He piped to the elder. Old Zuma looked at him, seemingly amused at his friend's nervousness.

He gestured back to the village. “Return to Isikhungo and inform your uncle of everything. Tell him to send reinforcements while I will remain here and rally the warriors already here.”

Mhambi nodded and was soon sprinting away from the tower towards the village.



“Who goes there?” A loud voice demanded. The sheer authority of his voice caused Mhambi to stop. The two guards had their spears leveled at him. Each bore the dull gray sashes of Thundering Cattle regiment. The men under his uncle's personal command. These men were once his father's personal guard when he took power but was since turned to a city guard by his uncle.

He blinked in surprise and raised his weapons as a sign of surrender. Even though these men recognized him, they were always the cautious type, especially when it came to the safety of their city. They followed their orders with almost terrifying fanaticism.

“Mhambi nephew of Isikhungo and son of Ulwazi. I have important news that I must give to the chieftain.” He said urgently, trying to push past them but was quickly shoved to the ground.

Neither warrior seemed convinced and blocked his path. “If you truly are Mhambi, which we know you are then why have you deserted your post. Tell us this news and we will determine if it is truly important.”  One warrior squats down and shoves his face up to Mhambi.

“And if we discover that you are simply deserting your station-” The second warrior thrust his spear in the air a few times the same way one would spear a fish.

Mhambi squared his jaw and leveled his gaze towards them. Determined not to show any fear. He quickly told them everything that he saw, not leaving any details.

By the time he finished the two guards had helped him to his feet and were shouting to the men in the gate's tower to begin opening the gate. Like the rest of the palisade, the gates were made from a combination of sharpened elephant bone and Uaphreech.

The gates creaked as the crank mechanism went to work sliding both sides open. The two guards flanked Mhambi as he entered, shouting for the people crowding the streets to move or simply pushing aside those who were too slow to react.

Despite the speed of their movement, Mhambi still noticed the changes in his home. In the past few months over a dozen new buildings were set up or being built. Markets, butcher houses and even farms now dotted the city. These weren’t even made of the simple of the reed, straw, and grass that their hut was, but of mud brick.

Yet their old huts still remained it was a welcoming sight in an entirely new city. Elders might have wrinkled their nose in disapproval, but Mhambi personally enjoyed the city. It proved that they were more than a collection of tribes but a true kingdom.

“Make way, make way!” The Thundering Cattle warriors shouted. “Our chieftain has news to hear!”

People began poking their heads from their homes, looking at their small group in surprise. “Whats going on?” A matronly woman with two children clinging to her legs asked. “What news?”

“None of your concern.” One warrior barked, clashing his spear and shield. “Just return to your huts.”

But not every person returned, a few even continued to follow their small group. Mhambi continued to look on, he was lost in the sight of the new city. He did not even notice that they crossed another set of gates within the city to the inner ring.

It was the tradition that only the most esteemed and people high status be allowed to live in the center of their encampment. That is why Isikhungo had reserved it for only his greatest warriors and most revered priests.

Yet this was also the spot that was least changed. The beehive shaped huts that rose fifteen feet in the air were arranged in a massive circle. It still looked like the village he grew up in as a boy.

His pride swelled as he saw that in spite of everything that changed in the Nacane these past few years, they still understood where they came from. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even realize that they had reached his uncle's hut.

It was by far the largest and most impressive home. From the sides hung multiple kills he took throughout his life, Elephants, Lions and even Wolves. Outside were other various trophies taken in his campaigns, vases, tapestries and assorted trinkets.

Mhambi couldn’t take anymore. His news was far too important to wait any longer. He shoved past the warriors and cupped his hands to his mouth before shouting. “Uncle! Uncle.”

“What is it!” A voice crackled like thunder and from the largest hut. And from the darkness of the entrance, someone emerged. A man well into his forties, yet moved with the grace and speed of one a decade younger. His attire consisted of arm and leg bands made from cow hair, a kilt, headband and a tightly sewn apron that was from a bright yellow leopard he personally slew and was reserved for the highest of nobles. He carried his club and hide shield in his hands. A warrior’s garb suited only for the chief.

All three of them dropped to one knee. Isikhungo grunted and gestured for them to stand back up with a wave of the hand. “You called me boy?”

“Yes, uncle.” He replied. “Apologies for disturbing you, but I have important news from the tower I was stationed in.”

His already pinched face wrinkled together in irritation. He gave his nephew a good cuff behind the head. “Bah, just spit out what you have to say.”

Muttering his apologies, Mhambi flinched and half expected his uncle to strike him once again. Beatings among their elders to their children were not uncommon. It was to keep the strong and remind them just how harsh the world was. Especially coming from his warrior uncle it was fully expected for a simple cuff to be turned into a beating. “The scouts in my tower have spotted ships approaching the coast from Vraukx island, and it does not appear to be one of their trading ships.”

His hand lowered a fraction and his eyebrows knit together. For the first time, the chief understands the gravity of the situation. The peace treaty he had established with the Trepan settlers on Vraukx island had agreed that they would not fortify their holdings further or push inland. “How many? Can they be sure of this.”

His nephew nodded “Yes, they were sure of what they say. Three of their giant boats. There could be hundreds of them within its belly.” He paused and swallowed a breath, quickly describing the ships and the weapons mounted on its sides.

“Can you be sure of what you saw?” Isikhungo said, sounding less angry but more perplexed at what he heard. Mhambi could tell that the gears in his uncle's head were turning as the strategist side of him took over.

“I am, Old Zuma saw those things as well.”

Mhambi was pleased to see that him accepting this information. Old Zuma was well respected for his wisdom and patience. Even Isikhungo tended to listen when he spoke.

“Damn those bastards.” He grabbed a guard by the shoulder and shook him, pointing towards the nearby fields. “You there. Send smoke signals to summon the warriors back. You!” He pointed at another man. “Gather whoever you can and begin fortifying the village.”

The men quickly run off in different directions.  “What will you have me do Uncle?” Mhambi straightens and holds his spear aloft. A breath of excitement was caught in his throat which he forced down.

His uncle looked at him for a moment, but slowly, his hard look changed and a smile formed as he wrapped his arms around him. “You are a great warrior Mhambi, and you’ve served our kingdom dutifully for almost six months. For that, you shall be leading a single regiment. The Red Desert Regiment shall be placed under your command.”

Pride filled every fiber of his being, Mhambi stood up a bit straighter and saluted. “It would an honor to fight alongside you uncle.”

“Then you shall, though your regiment shall remain in the reserves and provide support for the rest of the army.” His uncle said gruffly, turning away.

In an instant, all of Mhambi’s pride was replaced by disappointment. Then reserves were meant only for warriors to fight in the direst of situations. a position of importance true but his uncle had a reputation of never unleashing his reserves. “Uncle I wish to fight alongside you, not simply watch you win the battle while I sit on some hill.”

His uncle stopped and turned around. Mhambi tensed and prepared himself for another blow to fall, but instead, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Isikhungo was smirking at him. “So the young bull elephant is eager to prove himself in battle? Well, the nephew tells me. What makes a great warrior?”

Mhambi racks his brain through all the memories of his uncle when he brought him campaigning. He thought of the lessons his uncle drilled into his head. “Skill, daring, aggressiveness.” He paused and thinks of the last quality. “Patience.”

“Exactly my boy. I have no doubt that you have the aggressiveness and the daring to be a leader of men, but you must learn patience, to wait until the very best moment to strike. And the best way to learn that is in the reserves.”

“And how will I learn about skill there?” He grumbles under his breath.

His uncle caught wind of that and grinned at him. “By watching me of course.”


It appears Old Zuma had used his time well. By the time Mhambi had returned, all twenty warriors stationed within the tower had been gathered on a cliff side. Ve They clattered their spears and shields together in a mad chant. A pair of warriors had rhino horns and were stomping their feet as they blew into them.

The cheers grew even greater when they saw their reinforcements arriving. Mhambi marched together in the loose column alongside his warriors. In the few hours that the warriors took to gather an army over four thousand men had taken up the call. Even with their small numbers their lines still stretched a fifth of a mile.

Unlike their neighbors to the north who prefer to travel in tightly packed formations, Nacane made use of their open spaces and made sure to move in loose formations.

They sang and chanted as they marched, echoing the rhythm of their footfalls. These men, like Mhambi, were eager to fight the Trepans. By the end of this day, the sea will run red with the blood of their soldiers.

The second and third regiments suddenly broke rank. They marched on opposite sides of the army, one moving up to the watchtower and the other towards the edge of the coast a good distance away from landing sight. The two halves of their army formed a pincer-like formation. It was only the Isikhungo and Miami's regiment that remained in their original direction.

While Isikhungo’s men continued to advance, Mhambi ordered his troops to stop. He raised his finger and spun it around in a gesture for his men to turn and sit down to ensure that they don’t panic or become over eager and attack.

“Mhambi!” A runner shouted and waved his hand. “You're uncle is calling you and wishes you to join him in his parlay with the Trepans.”

Delighted, Mhambi had to trot in order to catch up to his uncle and his retinue. As far as he could see, none of the chieftains were present and it was only his personal guard accompanying him.

They were marching down the cliffside to the coast where the Trepans were mobilizing. The there ship's remained a good distance away, though not far enough for them to be unable to fire their catapults. Their fire lances had a far shorter range. Oddly enough there were far fewer Trepan soldiers than he expected. With all those ships there could easily have been three times as many, now there was only a single legion present.

As if reading his thoughts, his uncle placed a hand on him. “Don’t let their numbers fool you, they are few, but well trained and well armed.” He said pointedly. He noticed they were still heavily armed in their glittering armor. But he still recognized a soldier in a steel body cuirass and crested helmet who detached himself from the army. An officer then.

Mhambi hands rested towards his spear and gripped it tightly. He wished dearly he had a throwing spear just so he could try and kill him.

As Isikhungo walked, a great shout came from the warriors. They raised their spears in leaders. They broke ranks and stepped forward, hammering their weapons together in a thundering chorus. For a moment the Warband leaders seemed at a loss, though the quickly reined their soldiers back.

In response, Isikhungo raised his club and pounded his other fist on his chest, shouting in a deep bellowing voice.  “Why even try talking with them? We already know that they are here with demands and nothing less.” Mhambi protested.

“True, I do not with to bother negotiating with the, either,” His uncle admits, calming down. “but there a reason why I bother talking with them. They believe us savages, a mass of undisciplined warriors. By talking we prove that we are just a civilized as they. So when we march to battle, we will not be savages, but equals to them.”

The young warrior bared his teeth in a brutal grin. Let them look at the bull in the eye before they are gored by its horns.

The officer he spotted earlier marched directly parallel to Isikhungo. He held his chin held high and one hand reaching for the short sword at his hip. The man looked to be the most brutish looking person he’s ever seen. His uncle marched right up to him and gave a stiff nod. “Greetings Centurion. What brings you and your fleet here? Surely our gentle winds would not have been enough to batter your mighty war fleet.”

The officer jerked his chin up as if unwilling to look beneath him. He opened his mouth and spat in between the Nacane king's legs. Angry shouts rained down from his warriors, screaming profanities, and catcalls.

His mouth split into a grin as he gave a mocking bow to the chief. “Apologies for my rude entrance king. But I come here with a request for my lord. You see, he requires soldiers to join his army for his planned campaigns.”

“Then I am afraid that he shall be disappointed. There are no mercenaries among my men.”

“Well, mercenaries are far too expensive anyways.” The warrior explains, sneering at him. “It is a good thing then that my lord has his eyes set on your native warriors. You will be compensated of course for your services.”

“We are not mercenaries, and I will not be ordered around like a vassal in my own kingdom, now I suggest you and your soldiers leave.”


The officer suddenly threw his head back and laughed, one hand slapping against his thigh and the other pulling out a sword. He raised his sword arm and pointed it forward. The sound of ropes releasing tension drew Mhambi’s focus to the ships. On the lead ship, three of its catapults fired their load.

Stones the size of a man's head came flying above him. He followed after their trajectory and screamed out a warning as they fell on the watchtower. The first one merely grazed the side of one leg, but then the second one smashed into the roof.

The simple brick and wood splintered underneath it and the whole roof caved in. It was then final shot that was the coup de grace. It struck the weakened leg and easily snapped the Uaphreech log that had stood for so long. The whole tower groaned and tilted to its side, but stopped after. For a moment it seemed as if it would stop.

But it continued its downward trajectory a heartbeat later, sliding off the cliffside as the ground gave way underneath it. The warriors who were standing on the tower screamed as they tumbled off.

“Break away! Get out off the range.” Isikhungo shouted and waved his arms away. His warriors did not hesitate to turn around and run away. They were the brave warrior, that was without question, but even their skills could not counter the Trepans trebuchets.

A cloud of dust and debris blinded Mhambi momentarily to what had happened, but the smoke cleared to reveal the splintered frame of their tower. Mhambi broke away from his uncle's retinue and towards the tower. He spotted the first warrior, or what was once one-half crushed under a pile of planks. His body was poked with holes from where wood tore through and his lower body was less solid and more of just gore now.  

He averted his eyes but forced himself to keep looking for Old Zuma. He found Bheka, or at least him from the shoulders up. His mouth was still open in surprise. He was just one casualty. Others were sprawled about, crushed by tower or cut apart from the debris

“Zuma. Old Zuma!” He shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth.

“I’m ok.” A voice croaked from above. He saw the venerable warrior limping towards the edge, looking remarkably unhurt. Old Zuma seemed to notice his confusion and offers a rueful smile. “I was not in the tower when the artillery hit. I wish I could say the same for the others.” His gaze moved to then flattened bodies around him.

His gaze turned and he pointed back to the beach. “Ready yourself boy! Then battle has just begun!” Old Zuma pushed him aside and raised his shield just as an arrow struck.

Mhambi spun around and saw Isikhungo and his guards defending themselves against the sudden surge of Trepan soldiers. Steel meet stone as they fought. His uncle expertly blocked an attack and swing his club across the soldier's face. His check guard didn’t offer much protection against the blunt weapon and caved in his face.

He blocked another attack with his shield before he swept his legs at a second soldier's feet. Meanwhile, his guards form a circle around him and viciously cut their way through Trepan soldiers.

The officer reached down to his and pulled his sword out. He marched towards Isikhungo, raising his blade up, but his uncle moved like a cat and easily stepped aside.

The young warrior rushed towards the fight, he pulled his shield in front of his body and raised his spear. A Trepan advances to intercept Mugambi, his sword held over his head as he cautiously stepped closer.

He used the signature one-two punch of bashing his shield forward followed by a quick thrust. Thankful he was trained to counter that attack and he caught then shield by its rim as the man pushed it forward. With his other hand, he jabbed his spear down.

Blood bubbled and mixed with froth at the soldier's mouth, he dropped his sword and sank to his knees. Adrenaline rushed through Mhambi’s body, he held his chest until the rush passed. Yet he felt exhilarated. This was his first kill.

At that moment he was no longer a boy, but a warrior for the Nacane.

His uncle continued to fight with the officer, the pair circling around one another with their weapons probing out. It seemed more like a dance more than a fight. The Chief moved with grace and lightness on his feet that it seemed he barely touched the ground.

He ducked as a sword swing went over his shoulder. Taking this opportunity to attack, Isikhungo threw his body forward, ramming his shoulder against the Trepans chest. It was only then the strength of his metal shirt that protected him from serious injury.

As they fell to the ground, Isikhungo’s hands shot up and he pushed himself from the ground, doing a flip and landing gracefully on his feet a foot away. He didn’t give his opponent a chance to recover, he swings his mace once again as the officer got to his knees. The weapon struck his leg guard which immediately dented after and left then man howling in pain.

Quickly, the Nacane moved behind him. He grabbed his arm and wrapped it around his throat. With his free hand he held his club right above his head. The Trepan struggled under his foes iron grip. He flopped around like a fish but Isikhungo simply pulled the man's arm tighter. “Struggle all you wish but you will find it's not so easy to escape me. Now, I suggest that you call off your men and leave now while you still have the chance.”

The officer's guards don’t back down until he signals them back. “Stop fighting now.” He choked out and struggled to breathe under the chiefs hold. “Very well Nacane, you win. For now.”

Nodding, he released his captive. Taking a moment to rub his neck and inspect for damage, the officer glared at the chief. “But don’t think we will not return.” He jabs his finger at Isikhungo chest. Mhambi and the other guards bristle, but none move a muscle. “And do not think you will win a second time.”

A chorus of deep growls escaped the lips of the surrounding warriors. The officer turned around and marched back to his ship. His men spent a few moments to gather the bodies of the dead Trepans.

There were at least nine of them, and a dozen Nacane. Of course, that wasn’t counting the almost twenty warriors who were on the tower when the Trepans struck it.

Mhambi watched as a rope ladder was thrown off the side of the ship and then soldiers climb on board. Once they were up and out of sight, he heard his uncle sigh heavily. “He corrects, though, on both points.”

“Are you saying we will not fight them?” The young warrior cried, incredulous.

“I never said that.” He assured me. “But in this situation, it might be best to discuss things with the other chieftains. They would likely wish to know what’s happening before we make our next move. Wouldn’t you agree?*

Mhbimi nodded and walked with him. The rest of the warriors began to vanish back to their settlements. War was in their blood, but they also ached to see their family. In truth, he also longed to be home to his hut with a mug of warm tea and a leg of meat. He gladly trails after him home.
The Rising Lion Chapter 2
Hmm, now that we've introduced Trepis, lets move onto our second kingdom, Nacane. 
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passed on from: eh, many people
No offense, but... There are some people who are getting too fake on DA. They only want posts, comments, or to see how many friends and page views they can get. So let's see who will actually re-post this. This is a test to see who's paying attention. This is a test to see how many people in my friends list actually pay attention to me. Copy and re-post in your own journal. Let's see who the real people are. Re-post this if you aren't a fake. Don't reply... just copy and paste this in a new bulletin as 'Fake Deviants'.

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Ironwarchiefwarsong
Philippines

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:iconperiodicfable:
PeriodicFable Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2017   Writer
Thank you so much for the favourite!
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:iconironwarchiefwarsong:
Ironwarchiefwarsong Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2017
Np you deserve it
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:iconsabrinaamatistakaila:
SabrinaAmatistaKaila Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2017  Student Artist
EH sori hehe(do u understand tagalog?) i forgot to thank u for the fav and watch...waitta minute did i already thank u? sori sometimes i get pretty forgetful XP
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:iconironwarchiefwarsong:
Ironwarchiefwarsong Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2017
Opo, naiintindihan ko ang tagalog. Your very welcome for it
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:iconsabrinaamatistakaila:
SabrinaAmatistaKaila Featured By Owner Mar 1, 2017  Student Artist
yeeeey! 
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:icon3wyl:
3wyl Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Hello! :wave:

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AngelAxexinf Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2017  Student General Artist
Thanks for the faves!
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:iconironwarchiefwarsong:
Ironwarchiefwarsong Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2017
No problem
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IloveNickToons Featured By Owner Oct 22, 2016
Happy Birthday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Five Nights at Freddys 2- Chicas Cupcake -Icon GIF Happy Birthday Godliek :D Happy Birthday Birthday cake  icon Happy Birthday Grin Happy Birthday Sailor-Pikmin!

I'm so happy you joined   DeviantArt ! Meow :3 
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