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Mofo1995

The Brothers Tsyrrkunov

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This is the story of the villagers of Shevarrditsa, a small village which was once southeast of Nazira in the mountains, on Adhomai. It centers around two brothers, Arrkady and Mahmet Tsyrrkunov, and their endless struggle for peace during the first revolution on Adhomai.


Feel free to post any critiques or thoughts. Every time the OP here is edited to add a new part, I will post in the thread to bump it with a note on what part was added.


Prologue: First Blood:

Indent]Flakes of snow descended from the soft gray clouds which enveloped the sky, flooding the mountainous woodlands below in a sea of white. Beneath the coniferous trees, a stern youthful man wrapped his gloved fingers around the stock of a wooden rifle which was wrapped in white blankets. His breathing was measured and controlled. A puff of white gas blew from his mouth into the wind each time he exhaled. Ahead of him down the hill slightly over two hundred meters away was a Nav'twir grazing on a few loose shrubs which protruded above the icy water line. He painfully strived to align the cold metal sights of his rifle on the wild beast. Next to him in a full coated winter uniform with a fur hat was a grizzly old man with yellowed sharp teeth that always protruded from his open mouth, and beside him was a Tajara who was only slightly taller than our rifleman.

Indent]"Easy, Arrkady. You're getting eager. I can see it. Stay calm." The old man offered silently. The young man had yet to have mastered Nal'rassan.

Indent]"Yes, papa Yefemiy." He responded under his breath. His muscles tensed, and the rifle quivered in his grip. His grandfather's words had made him even more nervous.

Indent]"Hurry up and take the shot, brother, or I'll rip it out of your hands and make it myself!" The taller young one emphatically burst out. The grizzled old man leaned over and punched him on the thigh, making him recoil and whine. It was a wordless and effective request for silence. Forty seconds passed by in silence, nothing but the rustling of the trees filling the air. Those forty seconds felt like an eternity to Arrkady Tsyrrkunov, as he endlessly fidgeted and micro-adjusted his aim, tensing and relaxing his various muscles to try and control his nervous shaking. When he felt confident enough, he slowly pulled back on the trigger, until an explosion of fire and smoke leapt forward from the barrel. Quickly, he cycled the cold metal bolt, ejecting a steaming brass round from the chamber before looking down his sights again. The beast was running in a dogged limp, and Arrkady shot again without in a quickened panic, missing completely.


Indent]"Come on!" shouted the older man who grabbed him by the furs of his outfit, pulling him up as the three of them chased after the snow strider. They reached the spot it had fled from, losing their advantageous lookout position along the way. Somewhere in the brush, it was fleeing. The old man pointed to a red spot in the snow.

Indent]"This way!" he ordered, and slowly they began to trudge through the snow and dead winter plants, following the trail of blood. The walked for twenty minutes before they found where it went down, its thickly furred body heaving as it breathed its last breaths. Blood was pooling beside it, leaving a red rug in the snow.

Indent]"Nice shot Arrky!" his brother cheered.

Indent]"Good shot boy, now put it out of its misery." the old man congratulated. The rifleman stood over the dying beast with his rifle in his hand. This would feed his family for a few days. Its furs would be used for all sort of tailoring, even its bones would have some use. He stood over the helpless animal while it looked up at him with black beady eyes, its antlers shifting through the snow like a rake. His heart felt as though it'd waiver, but he shouldered the rifle aiming downward, and fired.

 

 

Part One: The Eve of Revolution:

Indent]It was a monumental event for the people of Adhomai when alien races were discovered, sending shock-waves through all facets of society. However, in the small mountain town of Shevarrditsa far away from city civilization tucked away in the mountains, the effects of meeting aliens was less than exceptional. The exotic new technologies didn't reach the simple village people, the prolific human ideologies didn't create new circles of intellectuals, but the discovery did generate a lot of talk and speculation. Rumors about the appearance of these space aliens was the subject of Mahmet and Arrkady Tsyrrkunov, two M'sai brothers on patrol on the outskirts of the village for wild Ha'rrons which had been killing the livestock.

Indent]"I heard they were no-furred short men with long tentacles on their heads." Mahmet rumored while biting into jerky made of Nav'twir meat, a bolt action rifle slung over his shoulder.

Indent]"Ha'rron shit, I heard they were normal size with most of their fur shaved off with giant walking tree companions for pets." Arrkady shot back, guffawing loudly at his brother's supposition.

Indent]"Whatever they look like," he took a moment to swallow some of his meat, "They come from a place higher than our gods. And that frightens me."

Indent]"They can come from however high up they want, the soil at our feet and the suns in the sky, that's all a Tajaran needs to survive. No one has business having heads that far up in the clouds."

Indent]"Hah! Listen to you, little brother always scornful of the smart ones because his mind is made of soil." Mahmet teased.

Indent]"I'd rather live a pious life than a sinful one."

Indent]"Arrky, look- tracks!" Mahmet pointed out, quickly switching to Nal'rassen while readying his rifle. Arrkady nodded, producing a revolver from a holster hidden under his coat. Cautiously, they began following the tracks in the dirt. It was late summer, and all though the mountains were cold, snowfall was still some time away. The tracks lead them on a winding path through the woods, slowly ascending diagonally up the mountainside. They hoped it would lead them to the Ha'rron's den to put an end to the raids once and for all, but as they kept going the tracks crossed a neglected road and then merged with a footpath. Mahmet leaned down and examined the foot prints in the earth.

Indent]"Tajara have been through here, maybe a few days ago." he mused curiously, rising up again to look around. Arrkady nearly nodded, tucking his revolver back into his holster, not wanting to threaten anyone.

Indent]"The old abandoned Taliovitch farm is that way, maybe some vagabonds or squatters." He offered in return. “Either way, the Ha'rron might turn out to be domesticated.” The path was long and winding, and decaying brush lied on the side of the path in some places, as though they had been cleared out. Yet, in other places, brush was intentionally laid across the path when it was close to known hunting grounds or roads. It didn't sit well with the brothers, and it tempted them to fetch their grandfather, Yefemiy. Yet still they pressed on, approaching the ramshackle and abandoned Taliovitch farm.


IndentThe wood making up the old farmstead was venerable and weathered, even rotting at some points. But at some places there were patches of fresh wood planks nailed to the side of the building over windows and what were once holes. The roof in particular was largely re-shingled in this patchwork fashion, and the front door was replaced with a large set of double-doors with thick wood reinforcements and sturdy iron hinges. The farms wood fence perimeter was reinforced with piles of stones to make a low hanging wall, with earthworks tossed to the outward facing side to make one standing behind them lower in elevation with more cover. The foot path they tread upon lead up to a small hole in this defensive wall, the inside of which was comprised of well-trodden dirt and even wagon and steed tracks. The reinforcement of the farmstead combined with the clearly active tracks told a dangerous enough story to cause Arrkady to draw his revolver again, and for Mahmet to be on heightened alert. They might be dealing with bandits. From a kennel on the far side of the home, they heard Ha'rrons barking. The brothers approached the home itself, finding the front door to be locked. They investigated the perimeter, finding a few points where the boarding on the windows allowed for viewing in, where the house was too dark to see anything but shapes of furniture. On the eastward facing side of the building, they found a small burrow underneath the side of the house where they could crawl under. Since he had the revolver, they came to a silent understanding that Arrkady should be the one to go in. The Ha'rrons were barking loudly at the sight of them, so Mahmet tossed them a few remaining hunks of his jerky to appease them. Arrkady slowly crawled his way through the dirt under the floor boards of the home.


IndentUnder the house he was able to find a spot where the supports of the foundation were rotted, and he was able to push the floorboards with their nails up into the house with ease. Through the hole in the floor he created, he climbed into what appeared to be a communal room, as his hole was under a table centered in the room with many chairs around it. His keen hunter vision allowed him to navigate the room as he got out from under the table, but he could not read the many papers and maps arrayed on the table itself. He saw the shapes of crates in the corners, and a total of five rifles leaned up against the various walls. He saw a few oil lanterns, but decided against making his intrusion so obvious. Instead he went to the door and unlocked it, allowing Mahmet in. With the door open they had slightly more lighting, but Mahmet seemed to lack the qualms Arrkady had and silently lit a small candle to look around.

Indent"Arrky, over here, look at these papers." He began sifting through them with his spare hand, leaning his rifle up against the table. Arrkady, on the other hand, was fawning over a belt-fed machine gun he found in a long rectangular crate which had already been crow-barred open by the previous inhabitants.

Indent"Mah, I think the baron's men must be using this as an outpost." He began to become eager to leave, not wanting to draw undue attention from their landlord, who had been a reactionary infamous for tightening his rule following the first contact with humans.

Indent"Looks more like a rebel group to me. 'People of Adhomai, rise up and be free?'" Mahmet read from propaganda which had been strewn on the table. Arrkady kept looking around for weapons, considering what he might be able to take with him, having no qualms about stealing from rebels. In on peculiarly weird box with writing on it that was foreign and impossible for him to understand, he found a strange handgun. It had a top which slid when he pulled on it, and had a detachable magazine which was housed in the handle which was sided with grip-able wooden panels. He took it and tucked it into his waistband, pulling out the spare magazine which was also in the box and sliding it into his coat pocket.

Indent"I don't like it. Let's take what we can use and get out of here." Arrkady muttered, while continuing his looting spree by lifting a rifle and a few clips of bullets for it. He was happy at the prospect of having more than one rifle in the family for hunting.

Indent"Arrky! Quick! Get back under the table!" Mahmet frantically signed in Nal'rasen while closing and relocking the door. A few words of Siik'mas came in through the walls as a handful of people approached. Arrkady slid under the table and crawled part of the way out to give Mahmet some room, while his brother stuffed a few papers from the table into his pocket and blew out the candle. The sound of a key entering the lock could be heard, and quickly Mahmet slipped under the table, easing the hunk of wooden floorboards back onto their supports as the door began to swing open. Arrkady crawled to the exit, but stopped short of leaving as two pairs of black toe-less jackbooted feet passed in front of him, circling around the building. The Ha'rrons began frantically barking in their kennels, as Mahmet remained completely still hiding at his position beneath the table. The sounds of boots clanking on the floorboards reverberated loudly into the small area beneath.

Indent"The wax on this candle is still wet, search the backroom." A gruff voice ordered from above, causing a quickened clanking of several pairs of boots towards the rooms of the building. There seemed to be a lot of commotion as the rifles which were against the wall were thrown into a pile on the floor, and the crates began to be torn open to have their contents stacked into the same pile. Back behind the house, a chorus of four rifles rang out, and the frenzied Ha'rron barking drew to a close. The brothers tensely waited; sweat accumulating on their mud-caked fur while they listened to the loud raiding of the rebel hideout they found.

Indent"Ey, comrades, he found the alcohol!" A young voice rang out while stepping into the room. The men responded with resounding cheers, as the chairs all scrapped against the floor while they were pulled out, the sounds of glass being set on the table underscoring the sounds of a party in the making. For two whole hours they sat and listened to the jovial laughter of the soldiers above while they told stories of their past posts, their love lives and their previous encounters. The brothers could not make a break for it yet as two Tajara were always on patrol around the house, the men inside alternating with them. Finally, as the suns began to set, the two man patrol was lessened to a single lookout that was weary from a night of fun and drinking. There must have been bunks inside, because one by one the boots broke off from the party in the direction of the same room until finally the farmstead was quiet again.


IndentQuietly and cautiously, Arrkady wormed his way out from under the house, his limbs stiff and weak from hours of idling and his stomach raging for nourishment. He held his rifle closely and at the ready, giving over watch while Mahmet pulled himself out. Together, they both huddled close to the ground, creeping their way back to the footpath they came in on and leaving the outer wall of the fortifications. They took a minute to look back inside from their position at the edge of the wood and saw that there was a large wagon pulled by two Khur’miurr Raharrs, whom were tied up to a post outside of the house's entrance. The M'sai lookout that had been posted was asleep in a chair next to the front door. At the edge of the wood, they spotted three dark shapes moving towards the far side and taking cover at the wall there. To the north, on the side of the dog kennel, two more shadowy figures were approaching the back of the house with rifles in their hands. Arrkady and Mahmet got on the ground, hugging the dirt and watching silently. Each of the two figures went around a different side of the house, preparing to descend on the sentry from both sides. They appeared to be Zhan-Kazan given their large size, and the way their earth-toned fur blended in with the wood planks behind them. Just as they went to spring their attack the Khur’miurr Raharrs both got spooked and began thrashing against their post and braying loudly, awakening the sentry. The Zhan rebels descended on him while he kicked over his chair and went for his rifle, stabbing him repeatedly with knives while he screamed. A chorus of angry voices rang from within the house as the two Zhan ran for the tree line, the front door flying open as black uniformed M'sai soldiers gave chase. The three Tajara hiding along the wall had a good line of fire and their muzzles flashed with bright white lights as they volleyed down on the pursuing soldiers, striking one of them who rolled onto the ground. An officer with bright trimming on his uniform drew a fat barreled pistol and fired at the sky, the flare lighting up the farmstead. The rebel fire squad rained down a second volley taking another soldier, while they began to take cover behind their wagon and fired at the two runners, who went down as easy targets. Some of the soldiers went back into the house and started firing from the windows facing the entrenched rebels, as the nighttime raid turned into a skirmish. The brothers couldn't watch anymore and began crawling away while the screams and gunfire of Tajara behind them filled the air.

Indent"He saw two more to the south! They're moving to flank!" The same young voice which had earlier announced the alcohol called out as Arrkady and Mahmet sprung from crawling to standing and running. Their hearts raced with fear of being chased. For twenty minutes they ran most of the foot path before stopping in a small pile of brush and listening while they regathered their breath. Five minutes went by while they remained hunched over with their rifles pointed at the path they took before they decided they must not have been followed. In complete silence and with a blanket of dread, they walked home under star cover, hoping to put the events of that night behind them. Their fates were now irrevocably intertwined with the political situation which was beginning to envelop their planet and their people.

 

Part Two: The Baron Responds:

IndentBack at the Tsyrrkunov home, the brothers were able to slip in under cover of darkness, their grandfather fast asleep in the master bedroom, and their sisters likely in a similar state within their own. Mahmet delicately placed the family hunting rifle back on its mount in the common room, while Arrkady put the revolver and holster back in a chest where their grandfather's service uniform was kept. The second rifle they brought home and the strange handgun were both slid under Arrkady's bed, their mud caked clothing strewn on top of them for concealment. Without any sort of cleaning, they clambered into their straw beds and hid under their thick woolen blankets. Throughout the night they fidgeted and struggled to fall asleep, their unspoken excitement searching for vocalization. They'd been through a lot and wanted to talk about it, but it was necessary to continue hiding.


IndentIn the morning, they were both snapped to wakefulness by their grandfather Yefemiy. His bellowing old voice fell on them in their beds like a whip, and they sprung out of bed with haste.

Indent"Where the fuck were you two last night? Did you slackers try to sleep in on me? Get your breakfast and get to work!" He barked at them.

Indent"Yes, papa!" They responded, hurrying into fresh pairs of clothes for the day and hurrying back to the common room. Their sisters, Yadirra and Nawrra, were already cleaning plates from breakfast.

Indent"Mah, Arrky, your porridge is getting cold." Yadirra chided in her own subtle way.

Indent"Better to not heat up inside, makes the cold outside all the more bitter." Mahmet joked, pulling out his chair and beginning to dig into his breakfast. As they fed, Yefemiy came storming into the room, groaning as he practically stomped his way across.

Indent"Yadirra, you put too much meat in the porridge. You're going to empty our stockpile before winter!" he pulled a fat cigar from his pocket, lighting it with a match and coating the room in a thick cloud of billowing cloud of smoke. "Nawrra, did you wash my clothes like Yadirra showed you? There was still dirt all through it. Dammit, girl, you are your mother's daughter." Everyone continued their tasks in silence. It was clear that Papa Yefemiy was in a black mood, and that the best they could do is hope he decided to go hunting alone, an activity which always calmed him down. He flipped open the chest he kept his old service uniform in. "Oh, what the fuck is this? ARRKADY!" Quickly, Arrkady sprung from his chair and went to Yefemiy, standing up straight attentively. He knew he was in for it. "What the fuck is this all over my holster? When you took my revolver out looking for Ha'rrons yesterday, why did you decide to roll my revolver and its holster in a puddle of fucking mud?" He puffed smoke all over Arrkady's face, like a dragon breathing fire.

Indent"The hunt for the Ha'rrons took us far out and all night. I tripped on a tree branch along the way."

Indent"Oh really? MAHMET!" he shouted, causing Mahmet to likewise run into the room and stand at attention. "This is my old service rifle up here on this wall. Can you tell me what's wrong with it?" he asked rhetorically. The rifle was likewise covered in dry mud and dirt, but also fully loaded with the bolt in position to fire. "You clean and clear my damn rifle when you bring it back into this house! That has seen me through trenches and the pull of Messa you do NOT disrespect her like this. I fucking raised you better. Breakfast is over for both of you, clean my damn weapons and get to the farm. I'll be eating your porridge while I wait." he brushed past both of them and took a seat at the table, casually taking their porridge and beginning to eat. Arrkady and Mahmet scrambled to get rags, soapy water, and oil with brushes. Setting up on the front porch of the household, they began to scrub the weapons clean. Soon, Yefemiy came out dressed in his hunting clothes and set down his bowl of their porridge next to a chair, where he sat and watched them work. They continued in silence for some time before a gargantuan and muscular Zhan-Kazan approached them while passing.

Indent"I am greets, friend." He bellowed in a deep bass voice, which was met with laughter from the two young brothers before him.

Indent"He greets, Gob. Shouldn't you be pulling the carts for the Khur’miurr Raharr?" Mahmet teased.

Indent"Gob pull plows, Gob strong!" The giant Tajaran replied, flexing his muscles with a big smile, which caused even Yefemiy to chuckle. "I going to lift rocks, take from field. They get in way of his plow. See you friends later!" The simpleton cheered, and left with a chorus of laughter at his back.

Indent"Thank S'rendarr we're not big dumb Zhan-Khazans." Arrkady said as he finished scrubbing the last bit of dirt from the cylinder of the revolver.

Indent"You boys are dumb enough to be Zhans." Their grandfather joked, cackling loudly while putting out his cigar in the remains of his breakfast. "All right boys, hand me my weapons and get off to the farm, see what work is needed." He rose from his chair, taking the rifle from Mahmet and slinging it over his shoulder, while taking his revolver from Arrkady. He walked off eastward up the mountain into the wilderness. The brothers sat for a brief moment, slacking, when Nawrra came out of the house.

Indent"Arrky? I found this in your dirty clothes." The brothers jumped in surprise, she was holding the strange handgun he had hid under the bed.

Indent"Nawrra! Put that down!" Arrkady sprung up and ordered with alarm.

Indent"Arrky, what is it?"

Indent"Give that to me!" he swiped it from her hand, tucking it into his waistband. "Don't tell anyone about it! I found it last night in the woods." Mahmet remained silent, looking around to see if anyone had seen the spectacle.

Indent"Why are you hiding guns under your bed?" The young girl demanded, clearly getting more flustered and concerned. "The whole village is talking about the shooting at the old Taliovitch ranch; they're looking for two rebels that got away, why are you hiding a rifle and this gun?" Arrkady and Mahmet were both looked at her with shock and horror.

Indent"Nawrra, we aren't rebels. We... we just found them in the woods is all. Why would we go all the way to the Taliovitch farm?' Arrkady tried to reason. This assuaged her fears as she began to calm down, but they knew they were in deep water if they were being searched for, especially if Papa found out.

Indent"I'm just worried about you, big brother... both of you." She was on the verge of tears. Arrkady wrapped his arms around her, lightly rubbing her back to comfort her.

Indent"Don't worry. Everything's fine, we're all fine. We aren't rebels."

Indent"Promise you won't get involved with those bandits?"

Indent"Promise." He patted her on the back, and she embraced him tightly before letting go. "We have to go to the farm now; can you get some clean linen and hide the guns in them?" She nodded and smiled lightly before heading back into the house. Arrkady and Mahmet exchanged looks of concern before setting off for the work day.


IndentThe way to the farm they often performed day labor at took them through the center of the village common, where they would usually pick up on local news or chat with acquaintances for a while, however today was hardly as endearing as the local notice board had ominous posters. Arrkady was unable to read, but Mahmet read for him.



!ATTENTION!


THE BARON HAS DECREED A ONE HUNDRED DAY'S BREAD BOUNTY FOR INFORMATION LEADING TO THE CAPTURE OF TWO ESCAPED FUGITIVES FROM THE TALIOVITCH FARM SHOOTING. REPORT ALL SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITIES TO THE BARON'S HONORABLE CONSTABLE. COLLUSION WITH REBELS OR BANDIT ELEMENTS IS PUNISHABLE BY DEATH.



IndentThe brothers both read the notice with dread. Any family in the village would sell out any other family for a reward like a hundred days’ worth of bread. The town was bustling with gossips.

Indent"Rebels, in his town? Bunch of damn troublemakers rocking the boat." The village butcher whined while he chopped some meat from a previous hunt.

Indent"The baron is a dick, he knows this and so should you. Rebels are to be expected under such harsh taxes." a young white M'sai hunter retorted, while he unloaded some small game onto the table for sale. Mahmet lightly palmed the propaganda papers in his pocket, worried he would be found out.

Indent"Oh! As if that gives them the right to kill young soldiers in such a ruthless ambush."

Indent"They knew what they were getting into the moment they donned those black uniforms. He doesn't earnestly believe they went to an abandoned farm just to garrison for a night, does he? Shit was probably a rebel hideout."

Indent"That doesn't make it anymore okay. Fuckers setting up near his village bringing trouble into his neighborhood. Let the Baron's men garrison away, so long as it doesn't make them come increase his taxes!"

Indent"Tsyrrkunovs, you're fellow hunters. What do you make of this?" he asked, turning to our passing brothers.

Indent"Ah! Keep him out of it. He has to get to the farm; Yefemiy took the rifle for the day." Mahmet deflected.

Indent"Oh? He thought they had two rifles? He saw them carry two in last night." Arrkady visibly shuddered- they were seen.

Indent"Ah! Yes, He bought a new one yesterday, but would he believe the bolt sticks! He has to oil and repair it." Mahmet casually lied, giving Arrkady a quick mean glance, warning him to calm down.

Indent"Stuck you say? Bring it over sometime; he can fix it right up."

Indent"Ah, he will. Safe hunting." Mahmet waved and smiled, throwing his arm around Arrkady's shoulder and practically dragging him off. "Arrkady, for Messa's sake, don't shake and shudder like that. You're going to make people suspect."

Indent"He saw us, Mah! Fuck, what if Papa finds out?"

Indent"Just calm down, I'll give him the rifle 'to repair' and it'll be out of the house real easy like." Arrkady nodded, gulping down his concern. Together they went to the farm they worked at, a simple plot of land with a variety of crops. The farm keeper ordered them to clear away a plot of land to build some new human crops, and so they took hand scythes and work indefatigably throughout the day, clearing away large stalks of crops. Throughout the day, Arrkady noticed that his brother would occasionally talk to some of the more ne'er do well farm hands. He started getting worried as the day wore on- what could he be getting himself into? With alarm, he saw from a distance that Mahmet showed them some of the flyers he had in his pocket, and they all started laughing and smiling! He did not dare approach or be seen next to him, but rather to keep his distance and interrogate him later. But by the time they had finished working, he was too exhausted, as well as nervous. The two of them set off and remained tight-lipped, partly out of exhaustion and partly due to fear. The first thing they noticed on their return home was the ominous presence of soldiers in the village.

Indent"He greets. Where have they been?" One such soldier questioned them, his dark uniform partially concealing him and catching them by surprise with the setting suns.

Indent"The farm, sir." Mahmet took the lead with.

Indent"Have they seen any suspicious persons?'

Indent"No sir, only farmers." The soldier eyed them both with suspicion, but tacitly nodded and let them pass.

Indent"Let me take care of the guns, Arrky. You should get some rest." Mahmet whispered when they'd put enough distance between themselves and the nearest soldier. Arrkady looked at his brother, he had a bad feeling in his gut. Just as the soldiers had suspected them, he was now beginning to suspect Mahmet. However, if there was one person he trusted, it was his older brother. He ate the dinner his sisters laid out for him, and then went to bed while Mahmet attended to their contraband.

 

Part Three: The First Casualty of War:

IndentThree weeks had passed since the excursion at the abandoned Taliovitch household rocked the sleepy mountainside village of Shevarrditsa. The black suited soldiers, under the constable's direction, barged into various buildings and patted down citizens in a pattern which seemed random and arbitrary to everyone involved. The invasive nature of the on-going occupation and martial law was chaffing heavily against the hitherto autonomous villagers. A schism began to form between those who blamed the rebels for bringing the wrath of the Baron, and those who blamed the Baron for having his men overstay their welcome. The constable and his soldiers were beginning to become more aggressive, as their investigations continued to come up empty handed, and the people began to become more indignant in return. The situation was reaching a boiling over point when the Tsyrrkunov household congregated in the village commons, along with all other households, after receiving a notice for an important announcement.


Indent"What is this all about? He has shit to do today, standing in the village commons with his tail up his ass isn't one of them." Yefemiy chuffed to no one in particular, his vexation at having to be present for some formality radiating from him in an aura.

Indent"He heard a rumor that they're going to search everyone in the village." Responded a middle aged Hharar man who operated a small metal works shop nearby.

Indent"He heard they found a pair of homosexuals while they were searching houses, and are going to make an example of them in front of everyone." A retired old Zhan-Kazan offered with a toothy smile, visibly entertained by the prospect. But the jokes and hushed speculation all ceased when a few laborers started climbing a tree in the middle of the commons to tie a rope to the thickest branch. All but two of the squad of soldiers stationed in the town were keeping the crowd back from the base of the tree, enforcing a moderately sized clearing. After tying the rope tightly at the top of the branch, the laborers began to setup a tall stool under the swinging rope, as well as a small stage next to it. Mahmet looked to his younger brother with extreme concern painted on his face, his heart throbbing and his spirits dropped to the depths of his gut. Arrkady shivered in place, sweat accumulating all over his body. He felt an overpowering desire to scream at the top of his lungs.

IndentMaybe, if I beg for my life now... they'll spare me. If i just throw myself down in the dirt and beg, and explain what really happened, maybe they'll spare me, or just take me to jail for a short time. And I can take all the blame for Mahmet. he thought, but his worries proved to be unnecessary. The two missing soldiers pushed their way through the gathering with a young white colored M'sai in tow. He was the young hunter with whom Mahmet had hidden their contraband with. Bound by manacles which rattled as he walked, he stumbled toward the village center with a suited man with top hat following. His fur was stained with blood in many places, and his face was swollen with scabs in many places where his skin was broken. The suited man was the constable whom the Baron had appointed to investigate rebellion in the town. Some time was spent in complete silence while the young hunter was positioned next to the stool, and the constable took his place on the stage before the assembled villagers. The heavier set suited man coughed, clearing his throat with a guttural mwrol, before speaking with a bellowing voice.

Indent"He greets all of you, inhabitants of the village of Shevarrditsa. He has brought you all here today in order to witness the execution of Yurriy Krryvobok, for taking part in rebellious activities against their baron. He has confessed, under investigation, to being a rebel fighter at the former Taliovitch household, and the soldiers who were present and under fire have agreed that the possible second rebel they thought they witnessed was a phantasm of night blindness and the chaos of combat." The constable nodded to the soldiers, who put a sack over Yurriy's head. They helped him up onto the tall stool, straining to pull and tighten the looped end of the dangling rope over his neck. His chest was heaving, his labored and panicked breaths heard over the silence of the shocked crowd. The soldiers looked back to their commander on the stage, who nodded a second time. They then quickly pulled the stool from under him, allowing gravity to pull him down until the rope was taut. The hanging failed to break his neck and grant him a quick death, so instead everyone watched as he kicked and swung from the tree, slowly suffocating.

Indent"May Messa have mercy on this traitor's soul." The constable grimly remarked, as he watched him struggle and fight to cling onto life. Arrkady and Mahmet observed breathlessly. Guilt weighed heavily on their hearts, and horror filled their own souls. After a few minutes, he stopped kicking and hung limp from the noose. Yefemiy kneeled down along with Yadirra to comfort and wrap their arms around Nawrra, who began softly sobbing. Gob, the big simple Zhan-Kazan, began sobbing in his deep bass voice. About half a minute after the likely deceased ceased to move, the constable once again spoke up.

Indent"Now that this unpleasant business has been dealt with, he has one last announcement to make. Due to the length of this investigation, and the lack of cooperation from yourselves, the Baron has informed him that the taxes on your village are being raised. Do not presume to withhold information from the Baron or his men in the future again." The soldiers made a defensive formation around the constable, and altogether they marched off leaving everything in the village common. The constable clambered into an automobile with a chauffeur, and the soldiers into a cart pulled by a Khur’miurr Raharr. They pulled out of town with the enraged and horrified eyes of Shevarrditsa on their backs. The sputtering of the engine trailed off in the distance, and the gathered mass was left with the grim task of taking apart the small stage as well as granting the late Yurriy Krryvobok a proper burial. Arrkady and Mahmet volunteered to dig the grave themselves, in order to lay the rest the man they felt responsible for. They did not speak of their guilt to anyone, and instead decided to conceal their feelings in the general dampened mood shared by the whole village. By the time the suns had set, Yurriy was laid to rest under a blanket of prayers to the suns and Ma'ta'ke which the villagers used to tuck him in.

 

 

Part Four: The Shevarrditsa Revolt:

indentFive days had passed since the hanging of Yurriy and the village was in an uproar. In the pubs and common houses, murmurs of rebellion began to permeate through the air. In parlor rooms and around dining room tables, everyone began to voice their discontentment and anger. A real breaking point which shifted the village from merely talk to a call to action came in the local mosque two days ago when their local Brother of the Sun gave a fiery sermon denouncing the cruelty of the Baron. Roused to the desire to exact justice, hushed meetings began to form in a farm on the edge of town. At the center of all of these hushed meetings was Mahmet Tsyrrkunov.


indentThe night air nipped at the flesh of our brothers as they left their home in the cover of darkness. They clung to their furs, tightening their scarves to brace against the biting winds. Under their furs, they concealed handguns tucked in their waistbands. Summer was coming to a close and the mountains were quickly beginning to return to their natural state of snow and cold.

indent"What are you going to talk about today, Mah?"

indent"You'll have to wait and see just like everyone else, Arrky." Mahmet answered. This caused Arrkady to frown heavily under the cover of his scarf. He wished his brother would confide more in him, and the distance which had begun to grow over the past couple of days as Mahmet became more revolutionary than brother had disturbed him. No longer did they crack jokes and laugh as they had before, but their hearts were cold and their consciences heavy. They were killers now. Their first victim was Yurriy, and they would avenge him against themselves. Puffs of steam billowed from their mouths through their scarves while they silently approached the meeting place. A dull candlelight shone from the inside through the dirty windows of the house they were meeting in. The wooden planks of the front door shook on their loose metal hinges while Mahmet pushed it open. A group of young Tajara of all flavors but Njarir sat huddled around a dining room table, some were forced to stand despite all the chairs in the house being re-positioned. The room was crowded, but still Arrkady and Mahmet were able to stuff their ways into the room. Mahmet took a position at the head of the table where everyone tried to give him room and hushed to listen. The owner of the house, a 28 year old Hharar man, stepped forward to welcome him and get the meeting going.

indent"Ahh, Mahmet Tsyrrkunov, welcome to his home. He is honored to have you here tonight, would you like a bottle of ale? Some bread and cheese?" Mahmet shook his head, instead gesturing to the chair the Hharar stood from.

indent"No, comrade sit down, your offer was kind." He allowed a moment for the Hharar to respectfully bow out and sit before clearing his throat and beginning. "Comrades, neighbors, friends. We are here today to discuss the way forward in avenging the loss of our dearest Yurriy Krryvobok, who martyred himself against the tyranny of the nobles in our fight for freedom and self-determination." Mahmet pounded his fist on the table, quickening the pace of his speech. "The Baron thinks he can silence us with taxes, but he has only hardened our resolve!" He raised one arm from the table, clenching his hand together and pointing to the corner where the wall met the ceiling. "Resist, my brothers. If they want our grain they can come collect it themselves, and they can pay for every bushel with a quart of blood!" His finger tucked into the rest of his fist which he raised up, shouting. "DOWN WITH THE BARON! GLORY TO THE PEOPLE OF SHEVARDITSA!" Around the table everyone stood, shouting in response and raising their fists on high, "DOWN WITH THE BARON! LONG LIVE THE PEOPLE!" This chant was repeated a few times, everyone working themselves into a furious clamor. Mahmet stood silently at the head of table as everyone chanted and shouted, a stern look on his face. To Arrkady, he looked heroic. On some levels he always looked up to his brother and sought to outdo him in other ways, but now he was his leader. He was willing to follow him into the depths of Messa's Forever. The fervor of shouting revolutionary slogans died down when Mahmet began making hand motions to calm down his audience.

indent"I have sent a letter to the Baron delivering our ultimatum- Freedom or death. We must prepare, his men are bound to be here by tomorrow." At this, everyone gaped. All though they were all upset, despite only moments ago chanting for the death of the baron, the reality that battle would come to them and within a day was a complete shock. "Prepare your rifles, and tell your families in the morning to be ready to fight. We will kill every last one of them who tries to take OUR village." Arrkady felt as though he had been punched in the gut, what was Mahmet thinking? The gathered rebels cheered weakly, sipping at their ales and breaking bread together.


indentThe rest of the night carried in largely with nervous small talk, until eventually Mahmet abruptly stood up and announced he was taking his leave. Arrkady quickly followed, leaving the Hharar's house behind them in the dark. His older brother seemed to be in a dark mood- annoyance boiling over into anger.

indent"Do they doubt the cause? Do they not think we can do this? Shevarrditsa is the finest village, I say, on all the planet. Our hunters are masterful, our laborers strong. What's this weak enthusiasm?" His nerves were getting to him. For the past few days, Mahmet's confidence had been built up as his fellow revolutionaries hailed him. To be suddenly doubted weighed heavily on his mind.

indent"Mah, we're behind you and you know it. We'll give them a thrashing so hard, they'll regret ever taking Shevarrditsa for granted."

indent"I just don't understand why they're concerned. I saw it on your face too. Those jackbooted pricks are going to march to certain death, the baron will have to give into our demands."

indent"What did you write in the ultimatum? What did you mean by freedom or death?" At this, Mahmet frowned again, pausing before explaining.

indent"I told him to abolish all of our taxes and stop policing our village, or else we'd come there and shoot him ourselves." Arrkady laughed heavily at this, his spirits raised.

indent"You really think we can do it?"

indent"We'll make them pay for hanging Yurriy. They'll wish they never fucked with us."

indent"I believe in you, brother. I bet the baron will give into the demands without even a shot. What can he do without our village?"

indent"He'll find out what he can do without our village if he doesn't give in!" Mahmet smiled big and wide, his confidence once again returning to him. As they approached their house once again, he wrapped his arms around Arrkady and embraced him tightly. "We're going to be heroes, Arrkady. We'll go down in our people's history, the first to cast off the shackles of the Njarir, the first free men on Adhomai!"

indent"I love you, Mahmet. We're going to do this. We're really going to do it! Just imagine all the food we'll have when we don't have to turn in their damned taxes." Mahmet laughed his jovial laugh again.

indent"I love you too. Tomorrow, we'll eat like kings." They entered their home and slept for the night, their nerves tempered for the coming battle.

Edited by Guest

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Part One: The Eve of Revolution is up in its entirety! Edited by Guest

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This is amazing. You should publish the hell out of this.

I really appreciate the positive feedback! There's a small chance of me reformatting and publishing this to the in-game library, but if I do so, I have to carefully consider who the author would be given how one of the main characters is one I play, and he's not exactly bright enough to write a book.

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You've been asking for feedback. You've been getting words of approval. Encouragement is nice, but seeing issues in our work often makes us strive to better ourselves.

In a way, constructive criticism helps give us the drive to keep writing.

And that's why I'm going to say mean things about Mofo and his story.

So he knows people care and continues to enjoy/refine his craft.

 

Grammar and Writing

The young man was too young to have mastered Nal'rassan.

The repeated adjective in the sentence is a slight eyesore. By replacing the first word with another word, the word would seem less like an overused word because that word would be a less abundant word. Whereas utilizing other phrases may seem at times pretentious or needless, this exercise does tend to render your prose more enjoyable to the appreciative reader.

Or maybe diverse word choice just makes us seem smarmy. Who knows.

 

Quickly, he cycled the cold metal bolt, ejecting a steaming brass round from the chamber, and looking down his sights again.

This sentence is a little off in my opinion. We have a few verb tenses working together at once here: cycled, ejecting, and looking. Cutting off " and looking down his sights again" would make the remaining sections work well grammatically, but would mean losing Arrkady's focus on his sights. "Quickly, he cycled the cold metal bolt, ejecting a steaming brass round from the chamber" without a doubt works as a sentence, but doesn't mention the aiming process at all.

Having three active verbs makes life interesting.

If you saw a need, you could make the last verb past tense to match the first. That would work, but might make the sentence read less like a story and more like a list.

"Arrrrrkady pulled back the shopping cart, purchasing a liter of diet Dr. Pepper, and asked the cashier where he could go to find triple A batteries."

I'm gonna wrap this point up with a fun alternative and move along. Make "and" a time sensitive phrase instead of a listing phrase. It keeps the story moving.

"Quickly, he cycled the cold metal bolt, ejecting a steaming brass round from the chamber before looking down his sights again."

He's messing with the bolt, which makes the round move. After that, he's looking down the shoot-shoot gun. Everybody's happy and Loow stops having an existential grammar crisis.


I went too in depth with that last point, so I'm cutting back on this next one.

His grandfather's words had made him more nervous than he had been before.

Make that sound better.


 

His breathing was measured and controlled, ahead of him down the hill slightly over two hundred meters away was a Nav'twir grazing on a few loose shrubs which protruded above the icy water line, and he wanted to hit his target.

This one sentence tries to fulfill three big goals: Mention our hero's breathing to hint us toward his actions and focus. Give the location of his prey to help us see through the main character's eyes and understand the context of this moment of his life. Touch on our hero's motivation for other artsy reasons that make the work more powerful and tell us about Arrkady as a dude.


As given, first goal does not flow into the next very well. It's a completely separate thought.

The last two flow into one another pretty well. "That bad mammer jammer was right over there, and he was gonna bust 'em up." Having the motivation on the tail end of the location dump helps the reader, or at least me whatever, see why the location is so important. On a related note, the in depth description of "where the animal at?" really does hint us in to the importance of the distance/location. He's a hunter hunting, so naturally the "not a deer"'s exact position would be important to him. Kudos.


Oh yeah. About the three goals in that one sentence:

Point A plays into point C.

Point C plays into point B.

Point B plays into the narrative.

All three add to the work's cool factor, but restructuring them so that they're not all in the same sentence might make that one sentence read slightly better. If nothing else, giving A it's own sentence might be nice.

 

When he felt confident enough, he slowly pulled back on the trigger, until an explosion of fire and smoke leapt forward from the barrel.
Small note. I do have a habit of leaning heavy on the comma key, but it might not be necessary there. The way I see it, the sentence works perfectly exactly as you had it with the exception that the comma between "trigger" and "until" doesn't belong. Here's an example of the point I'm trying to make.

"Once he was certain that his kicks were fresh, he danced with great passion until the night was over."

"He danced with great passion until the night was over" works as a sentence. Likewise, "he slowly pulled back on the trigger until an explosion of fire and smoke leapt forward from the barrel" also works without a center comma.

The important thing is that he danced the night away pulled back till the gun went boom.

 

Writing and Writing

I like your inclusion of the Adhomai native animals in this story. As a Lore "Writer", I tend to nod in approval whenever I see someone take something that's been put into the canon and take inspiration from it. All you were given was animals, and you made your own characters and situation out of the concept of hunting them. What's more, it seems like you had a fun time doing it.


You did a fine job of characterizing each individual within a relatively short story. The interactions between the old man and the excitable youth paints them both in very clear pictures. I also saw the humor in your crack at the nonverbal language of the hunters. You very clearly stated that the kids weren't versed in Nal'rassan, and so Yefemiy's "nonverbal" means of telling them to be quiet was a smack on the side. It truly was "a wordless and effective request for silence."


All in all, the prologue does what it set out to do. The brothers are established. Some insight is given into their childhood. The tone is set.


There's more to be said about this section, and another chapter is already sitting there waiting to be read. I'm going to take this opportunity to post now and avoid accumulating a multi-page one sided review.


Hope you dig the feedback, Mofo. Don't let your dreams be dreams.

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You've been asking for feedback. You've been getting words of approval. Encouragement is nice, but seeing issues in our work often makes us strive to better ourselves.

In a way, constructive criticism helps give us the drive to keep writing.

And that's why I'm going to say mean things about Mofo and his story.

So he knows people care and continues to enjoy/refine his craft.

 

Grammar and Writing

The young man was too young to have mastered Nal'rassan.

The repeated adjective in the sentence is a slight eyesore. By replacing the first word with another word, the word would seem less like an overused word because that word would be a less abundant word. Whereas utilizing other phrases may seem at times pretentious or needless, this exercise does tend to render your prose more enjoyable to the appreciative reader.

Or maybe diverse word choice just makes us seem smarmy. Who knows.

 

Quickly, he cycled the cold metal bolt, ejecting a steaming brass round from the chamber, and looking down his sights again.

This sentence is a little off in my opinion. We have a few verb tenses working together at once here: cycled, ejecting, and looking. Cutting off " and looking down his sights again" would make the remaining sections work well grammatically, but would mean losing Arrkady's focus on his sights. "Quickly, he cycled the cold metal bolt, ejecting a steaming brass round from the chamber" without a doubt works as a sentence, but doesn't mention the aiming process at all.

Having three active verbs makes life interesting.

If you saw a need, you could make the last verb past tense to match the first. That would work, but might make the sentence read less like a story and more like a list.

"Arrrrrkady pulled back the shopping cart, purchasing a liter of diet Dr. Pepper, and asked the cashier where he could go to find triple A batteries."

I'm gonna wrap this point up with a fun alternative and move along. Make "and" a time sensitive phrase instead of a listing phrase. It keeps the story moving.

"Quickly, he cycled the cold metal bolt, ejecting a steaming brass round from the chamber before looking down his sights again."

He's messing with the bolt, which makes the round move. After that, he's looking down the shoot-shoot gun. Everybody's happy and Loow stops having an existential grammar crisis.


I went too in depth with that last point, so I'm cutting back on this next one.

His grandfather's words had made him more nervous than he had been before.

Make that sound better.


 

His breathing was measured and controlled, ahead of him down the hill slightly over two hundred meters away was a Nav'twir grazing on a few loose shrubs which protruded above the icy water line, and he wanted to hit his target.

This one sentence tries to fulfill three big goals: Mention our hero's breathing to hint us toward his actions and focus. Give the location of his prey to help us see through the main character's eyes and understand the context of this moment of his life. Touch on our hero's motivation for other artsy reasons that make the work more powerful and tell us about Arrkady as a dude.


As given, first goal does not flow into the next very well. It's a completely separate thought.

The last two flow into one another pretty well. "That bad mammer jammer was right over there, and he was gonna bust 'em up." Having the motivation on the tail end of the location dump helps the reader, or at least me whatever, see why the location is so important. On a related note, the in depth description of "where the animal at?" really does hint us in to the importance of the distance/location. He's a hunter hunting, so naturally the "not a deer"'s exact position would be important to him. Kudos.


Oh yeah. About the three goals in that one sentence:

Point A plays into point C.

Point C plays into point B.

Point B plays into the narrative.

All three add to the work's cool factor, but restructuring them so that they're not all in the same sentence might make that one sentence read slightly better. If nothing else, giving A it's own sentence might be nice.

 

When he felt confident enough, he slowly pulled back on the trigger, until an explosion of fire and smoke leapt forward from the barrel.
Small note. I do have a habit of leaning heavy on the comma key, but it might not be necessary there. The way I see it, the sentence works perfectly exactly as you had it with the exception that the comma between "trigger" and "until" doesn't belong. Here's an example of the point I'm trying to make.

"Once he was certain that his kicks were fresh, he danced with great passion until the night was over."

"He danced with great passion until the night was over" works as a sentence. Likewise, "he slowly pulled back on the trigger until an explosion of fire and smoke leapt forward from the barrel" also works without a center comma.

The important thing is that he danced the night away pulled back till the gun went boom.

Writing and Writing

I like your inclusion of the Adhomai native animals in this story. As a Lore "Writer", I tend to nod in approval whenever I see someone take something that's been put into the canon and take inspiration from it. All you were given was animals, and you made your own characters and situation out of the concept of hunting them. What's more, it seems like you had a fun time doing it.


You did a fine job of characterizing each individual within a relatively short story. The interactions between the old man and the excitable youth paints them both in very clear pictures. I also saw the humor in your crack at the nonverbal language of the hunters. You very clearly stated that the kids weren't versed in Nal'rassan, and so Yefemiy's "nonverbal" means of telling them to be quiet was a smack on the side. It truly was "a wordless and effective request for silence."


All in all, the prologue does what it set out to do. The brothers are established. Some insight is given into their childhood. The tone is set.


There's more to be said about this section, and another chapter is already sitting there waiting to be read. I'm going to take this opportunity to post now and avoid accumulating a multi-page one sided review.


Hope you dig the feedback, Mofo. Don't let your dreams be dreams.



Thanks! All though there's not much here for critique of plot or overarching story, there's a gold mine of information about where I need to improve in the structure and form of my writing. Even if you haven't pulled up a full criticism of my other parts yet, there's more than enough food for thought here to go through and make major improvements to make the same story more gripping, easier to read, and all around more coherent. Stylistically, you gave a lot of good pointers which I think can really make this story as strong as I want it to be.

Crisp Sexual Tension, friend.


EDIT: Prologue has been tweaked following the specific advice and examples given in this wonderful criticism, with each suggestion being taken into consideration. I have a lot to think/work about with how to also apply the overarching lessons from the critique to apply to Part One, lots of food for thought to digest!

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Part Two: The Baron Responds is up in its entirety! Part One: The Eve of Revolution is in editing! Part Three: The First Casualty of War might have to be its own post, as there is a 60,000 character limit to posts on the forums, I believe. I have not counted the characters, but I might have to instead of having all the parts be in one post as I had hoped. Edited by Guest

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Part Three: The First Casualty of War is WIP! Part Two: The Baron Responds has entered editing along with its predecessor, but I've decided for now to prioritize laying down more story before going back in order to keep fresh content coming. As always, feedback (especially negative, as I've already received big heaps of positive feedback) is welcome, even for something as seemingly trite as grammar!

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Part Three: The First Casualty of War is up in its entirety! All three parts are now in editing. Since quality control is important, Part Four: The Shevarrditsa Revolt will not be released until at least Part One: The Eve of Revolution exits editing. Sorry :/

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Part One: The Eve of Revolution has exited editing! Comma splices which littered the entirety of it were mass deleted, some repeated words were taken out, multiple sentence fragments were fixed, and a small probably unnoticeable handful of stylistic choices in wording were changed. I'm also going to stop posting when different parts go into WIP, and instead only post when things are up in their entirety, and exit editing. Though, I will be keeping my writing in progress forum-side and still using the [WIP] tag.

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Part Two: The Baron Responds Has exited editing! Stylistically, it's not perfect. But loads of typos and sentence fragments were fixed. Some semi-colons were added in place of some commas at the request of MS Word.

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Братья Гримм / The Brothers Grimm

 

Братья Карамзовы. Я люблю русскую литиратуру, но я не очень хорошо понимаю русский язык. Так, я прочитал русские книги по-англиски.

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Part Four: The Shevarrditsa Revolt is now up in its entirety, admittedly a month later than I had intended. The content started getting too thick, Part Five: Messa's Tears is a break-off of content that was supposed to be in part four before it started getting too long. Part three is still being edited, so don't expect any part 6 until I finished editing part three and writing part five.


EDIT: Feedback (Especially criticism!) is always appreciated!

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Hello all! It's been quite a few months, so I think a full update is in order.

  • Part 5: Messa's Tears is not yet up in it's entirety
  • I have not been a good boy and edited the last three parts for sentence flow and grammatical errors like I promised I would
  • I've spent the past three weeks exhaustively story-boarding. The events of every single part leading up to Volume 2 Part 7 have been fully planned out, which would be the fourteenth part.

 

But, there's a lot of things I want to talk about in the sense of form, literary and cinematic moments which inspired me in the past few months while writing this story, studies in military history which should make the story more believable.


Let's start off with form. Two years ago I read Anthony Burgess' A Clockwork Orange, the story of a western gopnik who is brainwashed to be a good citizen, unbrainwashed following a scandal, and then rehabilitated after he realizes the chaotic life of poverty and crime isn't as fulfilling as it was when he was young. The plot itself though isn't so much of an influence as the form was. In the edition I read, there was a wonderful afterward by Burgess himself detailing the distinct sections of his novel and the structure of his chapters. He detailed that his novel was comprised of three sections each depicting a major phase in the character's life, creating a total of 21 chapters in the story. Each section was equally sized in chapters , the first detailing the main character's normal life, the second detailing his detainment and brainwashing, the third detailing his rehabilitation and salvation. His writing really struck me in that I had never considered the numbering of chapters and the possibility that a range of chapters could be grouped together to form distinct sections of a narrative. So, when I set out to write this story, I planned to have three sections comprised of a grand total of 15 parts spread equally across them (In addition to a prologue and epilogue). But.... the first section started running on and on, and I quickly found myself without enough room to convey all the story I wanted to. Instead I kept writing until I reached a natural breaking point to begin a new section (or volume) which turned out to be.... seven. Meaning that in form, The Brother's Tsyrrkunov is a copy of A Clockwork Orange. Even the distinct sections could be made to be equated to each other in the same way that Nikolai Gogol's Dead Souls was essentially a retelling of Dante's Inferno. That is, in a loose sense, the first part is about Arrkady's normal life, the second is about his "Imprisonment and Indoctrination" and the third is about his "rehabilitation and salvation."


Next is literary and cinematic moments which have inspired me during the writing of this story so far. It's not done yet, so there's like more to come.


1.) Achilles' Reaction to the Death of Patroclus in The Illiad: Before reading The Illiad I was always under the impression that it was a big dumb "HEROES AND HONOR" story about manly men doing manly things. And no one scene did a better job to waylay and destroy that impression than what was the most tragic moment in literature I have read in over a year. Strewn throughout the old epic in general are lines like, "And he was lied low by the spear, and his children at home were deprived of their father." Or, "His wife and parents at home wept bitter tears when they learned of his death, but at present his body was stripped of its armor." But no scene conveyed the totality of the tragedy more than seeing Achilles, the big macho man superhuman demigod ultimate warrior himself, throw himself into the dirt pulling his hair out and wailing in a tantrum when he learned that his best friend Patroclus was killed by Hector. The sheer tragedy of the moment hit home harder than ever the awful nature of war and the overt themes of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and coping with loss which The Illiad is really about. Quite literally the best warrior in the entire world at the time cried and pulled his hair out while flailing in dirt, held down by his adjutants because they were afraid he was going to "plunge a dagger into his own throat." As far as how that influences this story, it made me greatly rethink how I want to portray loss. Previously, I had believed that it would be best to showcase it with stoicism and hearts of iron, but Achilles taught me that a warrior plummeted into a moment of vulnerability and crying is far more powerful, and not out of the question for even the strongest of men.


2.) Bazarov's failed trials in Fathers and Sons: A handy dandy pro-tip is that in some ways, Mahmet is heavily influenced and modeled after Bazarov in the scandalous 1860's Russian classic, Fathers and Sons. The try-hard proto-Nihilist who hides their feelings to effect a strong demeanor and a logically superior aura is exactly the image I've been trying to capture with Mahmet as he tries to become a young revolutionary leader. It's worth noting that Mahmet leads Shevarrditsa to revolt without the early movements that will later form the PRA having a direct hand in it. Part 4 already gave strong indications that he's trying very hard to be a strong materialist anti-idealist which will serve as a strong basis for communist thinking, but like Bazarov, is failing. The truth is he isn't a perfect logical being and he's feeling emotions, making him a less than genuine adherent to the ideologies he would claim to follow. Whether I want to go the length of including all the classical trials of heroes which are common tropes in literature (and all of which Bazarov failed) remains to be seen, but so far they are not integrated into the story so much as the sentiment of them are.


3.) Lyudmila in The Battle of Sevastopol (2016): Just two weeks ago, I saw a wonderful film by a Ukrainian production company called The Battle of Sevastopol. There were plenty of elements of it which could easily be found in Enemy at the Gates ranging from the WWII action, the propaganda press, and a climatic sniper duel, however those all paled in comparison as influences when stacked up against the protagonist's love life. In Arrkady's original whitelist application story, the details about his wife were left very vague because I wasn't really sure how to handle a love story, but Lyudmila stole my heart on the silver screen with her love on the battlefield. This got my mind rolling on the idea of Arrkady's future wife being a comrade in arms, and set the bar for how I want love to blossom. The only other alternative was the Monogatari series which also stole my heart, but those romantic elements have a strong slice of life theme to them when they aren't supernatural that it couldn't possibly fit in this story. Another similar influence is Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater's romance between The Joy and The Sorrow, though without the elements of having different national loyalties. Otacon's famous words about Sniper Wolf from MGS1 also come to mind, "Do you believe love can bloom even on a battlefield." But I digress on the Metal Gear influences, since there's too many to count. However there was also influence for the battlefield romance from the next bullet point, Chapayev, between two young soldiers in Chapayev's division who co-operated a machine gun. The young man (whose name I forget) taught the young woman (his assistant machinegunner) how to operate the machine gun, and she would later become a master of the weapon. At the very end of the movie, Chapayev himself sacrificed himself against a Tsarist ambush by taking the machine gun to face off against an armored car, allowing the two young lovers to get away and live the rest of their long lives.


4.) Chapayev (1934): This is easily one of my favorite films I have ever seen. I'll admit openly and freely: It's Soviet propaganda from the late Shumyatskii period, but Stalin thought it was an absolute masterpiece and so do I. Moreso than any other influence, stylistically, I want the soldiers to look and feel as if they came out of this movie, and I want to emulate the action. Not the over the top grimdark super violence of modern war films, but the gritty, exciting, and reasonable action of Chapayev.



Finally, after all of that, we are left with one more topic: military history. This is easily the driest and most difficult part of my studies to make a better story, but I wanted to undergo it to make a believable one. The primary focus of this field would be what the Tajaran military structure page so boldly claims: Motorized infantry are the powerhouse of the Tajaran military. I wanted to capture the highly mobile rail warfare of the Russian Civil War as agit-trains would go town to town broadcasting propaganda and picking up recruits to ride into battle. The concept of train warfare was extremely exciting to me, but I wanted to divorce it from the actual rails and instead base it all off of trucks. However, with motorized infantry, riding into battle ON a truck is a sign of having fucked up, as the trucks only serve to take people to the vicinity of a battlefield where they then dismount and march into battle. Years of big dumb first person shooters had left me with horribly mistaken impressions on the logistics and operation of motorized infantry which I have fortunately corrected by studying more intensely before reaching those sections of the story (Where the brothers join the 5th Motor Rifles Division). There is still some discrepancies on the logistical front, namely that motorized infantry require a high degree of logistical infrastructure to maintain for their operations. Hopefully, it will be believable that the Revolutionaries Sun Tzu style appropriate the resources they need for these operations in the early days, later forming the infrastructure they need to maintain it as the various revolutionary movements coagulate to form a proto-PRA. There are also complaints that could be made about nomenclature (Motorized infantry refers to Mechanized infantry in Warsaw Pact countries, while NATO specifically refers to Motorized as being truck based and Mechanized as being armored vehicle based.) but hopefully people aren't too pedantic about it.


It was a lot of thoughts to throw out there, and still none more of the story, but it was an exhaustive list of things I wanted to get off my chest. I highly recommend checking out the items which appear on my "Influences" list which inspired many aspects of the overarching story. Thank you for continuing to follow the writing of The Brother's Tsyrrkunov!

 

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I ran into a bit of a snag while writing this.


As life stories tend to be, there is, naturally, romance in this. I'll put the following spoilers in a spoiler.

While stationed in Nazira following its capture by local rebel forces, the revolutionaries start pressing locals into service. Many join willingly, but even those who are sympathetic to the rebels struggle with food shortages, since many of the farmers in the countryside have either been levied by the nobles or got caught up in the revolutionary fervor and picked up their guns to go fight the old order. At any rate, this is when Arrkady gets his first crush when an m'sai girl is put in his squad. And this is where an aspect of the story starts to go down hill. Other than cheesy movie cliches, what do I know about military romance? Nothing at all! Heck, I've been single since I've gotten out of high school, I don't even know anything about regular adult romance, which by the way, becomes a prominent theme later in the story when they resettle Shevarrditsa and Arrkady meets and marries his wife. While on a conceptual level, given that it's more of a visceral part of the story than the meat of it, it was easy to write, diving into penning the dialogue to paper is almost painful. And by that, I mean, it reads as if a robot wrote a forced romance story. It's clearly artificial and doesn't seem believable at all. While I've taken many influences from various media ranging from pop culture to old cinema and literature, I want to avoid transplanting a well-written romance from another story into mine just because I struggle to make a believable one. So, I have to trudge through with some trail and error on making believable dialogue.

 

And that's the update! One particular element which won't be seen until I start uploading the second volume is that the political events and history of the time will be detailed, giving a cohesive history of how the PRA came to be from a series of different and somtimes even hostile rebels groups of every flavor. However, I wouldn't expect anyone to have to sit down and read my story to get that kind of information. A timeline page for the wiki is in the works of the events on Adhomai from 2400 to present. One item I've come to notice is that the combat scenes in this story are lengthy. I mean, *really* lengthy. Where I've left off before updating you fellows is the destruction of Shevarrditsa village in open rebellion. Given the small unit nature of the entire encounter (a platoon vs a village) I did not want to omit many details since every passing moment is important and relevant to our brothers. I found a happier medium when reaching the larger battles in which they've joined revolutionary armies where instead of detailing every last thing, an important or noteworthy day of a larger battle was taken and written about. Afterall, writing about every little piece of their time in the service would be dreadfully dull, so there are multiweek long and even multiyear long time skips between parts.


I suppose I was just eager to share my thoughts on development and the trials and tribulations accompanying it. This writing project is something I'm fairly passionate about, even if it is babbies first short story.The joy of writing something longer than a paragraph or two is great, and I want to push my writing skills to their limits to see how far I can take it.


I'll see about finishing the polish on the Battle of Shevarrditsa within the next few weeks.


EDIT: It's also incredible uncomfortable for me to write about humanoid cats flirting with each other/being in love. There's always a strong initial reaction of complete revulsion. But dammit, I want my story to be good, so onward into the breach.

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[Needs Edit]Part Five: Messa's Tears:

indentDew covered the landscape of the mountain range south of Nazira as the suns began to slowly climb over the horizon. The sleepy village of Shevarrditsa in the mountains was flooded with a frigid southerly wind, heralding the approaching winter. The Tsyrrkunov brothers stood in the village commons with their rifles slung over their shoulders, billowing smoke of S'rendarr's Hand coming from their pipes. Mahmet's expression was stoic, heroic, and severe. To Arrkady, he looked like a statue of some long passed warrior, maybe even of Mata'ke himself. Arrkady shifted uneasily, adjusting his alien handgun in the wasteband of his trousers, and nervously looking at his heroic older brother. He thought of Yadirra and Nawrra, Yefemiy, Yurriy, Gob, the farm, the countryside, his home, his first hunt, his neighbors. Everyone could die here, and this horrified him. Was it all worth it? Should they just beg forgiveness and pay their taxes? The battle at the Taliovitch farm came rushing to his mind. He thought of the loud chorus of gun-fire, the blood-curdling screams, the rush of adrenaline as he ran for his life. Mahmet put his hand on Arrkady's shoulder, looking into his eyes. He said nothing, but his silent smile eased every nerve Arrkady had. For just a few moments, no matter what would happen, Arrkady felt that everything would be okay. Everything would be okay because his bigger brother Mahmet would make sure of it.


indentFellow conspirators began to gather along with them over the course of a few hours, causing a stir in the village as onlookers wondered why so many men were gathering with their rifles. After enough of them gathered, Mahmet began delegating duties for everyone.

indent"All right everyone, we have four major road entrances to cover. We'll split off into groups of two and watch each of the roads we need our fastest and easiest to hide, so m'sai only. He'll give each team one flare gun. If you see the Baron's soldiers, fire a-" Mahmet was cutoff by a hharar farmer who rode into town quickly on a zhsram shouting.

indent"The Baron's men! They're marching into town! They shot Gob!" he shouted as the alarmed villagers began to gather.

indent"What on Raskara happened?" Mahmet stepped forward to ask.

indent"Gob and him were going to sell crops a village over when they saw the Baron's soldiers marching- a whole company! Gob said he wanted to go greet them and ran at them, they saw the big simpleton zhan-khazan charging at them like a Grenadier and opened fire. Gods, they killed the poor innocent man! They started firing at him too, but he galloped away as quickly as he could." The entire village was shocked, mutters and rumors began filling the air. Arrkady looked at Mahmet, who frowned heavily before standing on a wooden crate.

indent"Comrades of the village of Shevarrditsa! Hear me! The Baron has taken now two of our people, and now none but the most innocent of all of us! Gather your rifles, there can be no other reason for them to come our way but to pillage us and to take their precious "taxes" by force! Remember Yurriy, and remember Gob. Today, we will show them that they have taken more from us then we were ever willing to give, and will take no more!" The outraged villagers began cheering. For a brief moment, Arrkady saw the beginnings of a smile at the edge of Mahmet's lip before quickly receding to resume a severe expression. As the village set about equipping themselves and spreading out weapons among them, Yefemiy came out of the Tsyrrkunov household and rushed up to Mahmet and Arrkady.

indent"What the fuck are you two thinking? Get off that damn box! Suns, you two are going to get hanged." Mahmet looked at Yefemiy, refusing to be cowed.

indent"They killed Yurriy, they killed Gob, they bleed us dry with their taxes and force us to do what they say. I am not doing it anymore, I will kill every last one of them." At this, Yefemiy barred his teeth, fuming with anger.

indent"You're getting the whole village fucking killed is what you're doing. Go have your heroic adventure in the suns, I hope you enjoy it because it's going to be your last moments. I'm going to do the right thing and protect your sisters, or did you forget they might get fucking shot or worse." Yefemiy stepped forward and ripped his rifle off of Mahmet's shoulder and allowed Mahmet some time to hand over his holster. On his way back to the house, he stopped in front of Arrkady and burrowed his eyes into his soul.

indent"Are you going to go join him on his suicidal quest to play hero?"

indent"I have to protect the village." Yefemiy spat on his foot before slapping him across the face.

indent"You're a N’hanzafu." Yefemiy stormed off back to the house. Arrkady felt himself at the verge of tears, but again he felt Mahmet's reassuring hand rested on his shoulder. For a few moments they remained there as Mahmet lend Arrkady his strength. When Arrkady's eyes rose again from staring at his feet, Mahmet gave him a gentle pat and resumed his pressing duties.


indentIn short order, Mahmet was able to get another rifle from the villagers who were in a flurry to fortify whatever they could. After talking with the new arrival to learn about the direction of the soldiers' approach, he looked out at everyone and began calling as many new fighters to himself as he could. Precious minutes passed as the brothers and their fellow conspirators herded together the outraged villagers from their incoherent chaos. Once a sizable crowd gathered, Mahmet spoke to the assembly.

indent"The baron's men approach from the southern road! We will spread out among the trees and attack them while they come up hill! Anyone with a zhsram, ride out and find out how far away they are. The rest of us will prepare to send them all to Messa!" With a chorus of nervous cheers, and little ceremony, the people of Shevarrditsa began to break up into groups of friends and family who ran south into the woods along the road. Mahmet and Arrkady banded together with a hharar they often farmed with, Malik Hyrrulbir. The three of them ran through the trees a few meters away from the road, following the footsteps of those who went ahead of them. Crackling gunfire and shouts began to pierce the silence of the mountainside as the battle began ahead of the brothers. Dread began to grasp Arrkady's heart as he thought of the great changes he now faced. His thoughts were cut short with alarm as a sudden force impacted him at the foot, shifting his weight forward and sending his world tumbling into the dirt. His rifle flew out of his hands and ahead of him with a loud thud as he panicked in his disorientation. Behind him, a startled yell of pain replaced his panic with curiosity for a moment as he identified the source.

indent"You cut his fucking leg! You zhsram's ass! Watch where you're going!" The village butcher upbraided Arrkady. He was lying under a pile of leaves, blood now seeping from a cut where Arrkady's foot had kicked him.

indent"What on Raskara are you doing here? He thought you were a fucking coward. Why aren't you at home praying for the Baron to come save you?" Malik retorted. From the ground, the butcher scrunched up his face and barred his teeth at the young hharar while Mahmet helped Arrkady to his feet.

indent"He's still a villager. He can't help it now, if he doesn't fight they'll destroy everything" the butcher moaned.

indent"They'll join you, he didn't know you were so good at camouflage. When the Baron's men come this way, they'll fight together." Mahmet offered, smiling down at the man.

indent"Fine," he responded, pointing at a tree which split into two trunks, "one of you should sit and rest your rifle there." His finger moved to a hunting stand deeper in the woods, "Another one can take that up, but he thinks it sticks out too much." Lastly, his finger pointed at a bush along the road, "From there you can get a good view of them if they stick to the road." Mahmet grabbed Arrkady by the shoulder and gave him a light shove.

indent"Go to that tree, Malik can take the stand, he will take the road." A moment of silence passed as a scream echoed in the distance, everyone looked at each other and nodded before splitting ways. Arrkady ran to the tree and rested his rifle where the trunks split, looking down the hill through his sights for black uniforms. But nothing came. He looked to the east where Mahmet was hiding in a shrub to see him sign in Nal'rasan. "Neighbors." He looked back down the hill and saw the foliage ruffling as a few tajara ran towards him. After some time they closed the large distance and passed the group lying in ambush, shouting warnings as they did.

indent"They're coming! We've had it now! Run for your lives!" Arrkady's heart sank into his gut as a dozen of them passed. His rifle wobbled in its place as his hands shook with fear while he heard the butcher chastise the routed villagers behind him. Five minutes of silence passed before the ear piercing crack of Malik's gun caused Arrkady to jump in his place. He looked over to Mahmet again who signed at him. "Black coats, tajara, small game, prey." Malik's rifle fired again. A whistle responded from below as men clamored and orders bellowed. Malik's rifle let loose another shot, which caused a scream of pain far down range before the roaring thunder of many rifles responded. Arrkady listened to the loud thunking noises as the rain of bullets pelted the tree stand, chunks of wood flying into the air as the lead axed through. Malik leapt down from the back of the stand and ran to a nearby tree, but the volleys did not follow him. Mahmet shot down the hill where Arrkady could now see the foliage moving at the edge of his range. Then, finally, he saw one. Far away with the slim outline of an m'sai, a black uniformed tajara became visible just over a hundred meters away. Arrkady could not help thinking about his first time hunting, as Yefemiy's reassuring words came to mind. "Easy, Arrkady. You're getting eager. I can see it. Stay calm." He tried to imagine the soldier he looked at was just a Nav'twir as he aimed at him, unseen from his spot behind the tree. Doubt began to fill his heart. A man.

A person. Someone from another village. Yefemiy once served in the army didn't he? He thought of Mahmet and his last message, whispering to himself, "small game, prey." Although his stomach churned and he felt sick, he took aim and pulled his trigger. The rifle leaped against his shoulder as billowing smoke flung from the barrel. He looked down hill again, righting himself after foolishly letting the recoil have its way- he missed. The man down range took a knee and fired back at Arrkady, striking the mountainside and sending dirt flying a few meters away. He quickly started working the action of his bolt to fire back, his hands fumbling over the cold metal, when Mahmet fired again laying low the small game that threatened Arrkady's life. More shapes began to disturb the peace of the far mountain side, the initial shock of firing at another person was swept away as the four villagers began to volley fire down the mountain. Arrkady could not tell if he was shooting anyone, or indeed, even if he was shooting at anyone. Yet this did not stop him from emptying his magazine as quickly as he could in their direction. For a two minutes which seemed to last a whole day, only sporadic fire answered them as the soldiers were seemingly pinned in the brush. This uneasy stalemate was not meant to last. From under some bushes, a strange rifle began firing in rapid succession- a machine gun. A continuous burst of flame shot forward from its position as everyone ducked to avoid the hail of death. The soldiers began volleying back up the hill, sending dirt and chips of wood skyward all around the villagers. Arrkady curled up behind his tree, hugging his rifle as he listened to the slow advance of the baron's men. To his side, Malik shouted.

indent"They've got us now! RUN!"

indent"Coward! Stay and let them have it! We can't lose here!" Mahmet shouted back over the rolling hail of bullets, but Malik stood and sprinted uphill. Arrkady looked over at Mahmet, and then back at the retreating Malik. Gripping his rifle as tightly as he could, Arrkady stood and fled uphill. His heart felt as though it was going to break through his ribs, but still he ran on. Mahmet cursed under his breath before following, but the butcher fell as he stood to run after them.

indent"His leg!" he shouted as he grabbed at his legs where Arrkady had cut him. Arrkady looked back briefly to see him writhing on the ground, but he could not stop for him. The three villagers routed onwards, leaving the butcher to death at the clutches of the black uniformed men.


indentThe baron's soldiers advanced on Shevarrditsa across four hours as waves of villagers broke against them. Knots of farmers and hunters continued the cycle of counterattack and retreat, causing the black uniformed invaders to pay in blood for ever kilometer. Yet the morale of the defenders always waned when confronted with the lead rain of the chattering machine gun. Two more times the brothers and their companion set out and faced the attackers, each time driven back by the fearsome and organized advance. The ground between the fighting and the village closed, and the peasants prepared for their last stand.

indentMahmet, Arrkady, and Malik joined a handful of zhan and hharar workers in boarding the fences on the edge of a farm on the south side of town. Everyone jumped and shivered when the roaring machine gun was heard in the distance, always closer and louder. As the brothers hammered away to make their cover, a crack far closer than the rest pierced their ears. Chips of wood flew into the air a meter away from Mahmet as a bullet bore its way through their fortifications. The three m'sai ducked behind the fence while villagers in the barn fired from the windows. Two more young tajara escaping the soldiers vaulted over the fence some distance away from the three m'sai, taking refuge next to a few zhan who then shot at the treeline. For fifteen minutes which felt like hours to the combatants, the firefight ebbed and flowed between the rebels and the soldiers until the dreaded rattle of the machine gun once again announced its arrival. The boards on the fencing began to break and fall apart under fire. Seemingly all at once, the villagers at the fence broke and fled to the safety of the barn. Bullets chased them as they ran, catching a few who screamed as they fell and continued to wail as they bled on the ground. The three m'sai dived into the barn and waited while the few other survivors from outside entered the refuge. The wheels on the barn doors creaked loudly while two hharar closed and barred the portal. Malik surveyed their surroundings inside of the barn, grabbing the brothers and pulling them behind bales of nm’shaan. The thick stems of the sweet trees shielded them from projectiles that effortlessly tore through the walls of the simple barn. For a few moments they remained there before an explosion burst through the feeble structure, creating a new large hole to the outside. Splinters, shrapnel, and hunks of wood tore through the two hharar at the door like razors, leaving them to lifelessly slump onto the barn floor. With his heart racing in his chest, panic became to overcome Arrkady. He opened his mouth wide and screamed shrilly with all his air as insurmountable doom overcame his senses.

indent"Arrkady!" Mahmet shouted, taking his brother into an embrace and holding him until the panic passed. Malik began shooting through the new hole as soldiers began to gather behind the fence at the edge of the field. Mahmet joined him once he was satisfied that his brother was calmed. Arrkady looked up at his sibling, at the fierce determination in his eyes, the unflinching resolve behind every shot, and the fearlessness under enemy fire. His heart began to swell with courage and inspiration, and his hands began to tightly grip his rifle. He laid his rifle across the top of the pile of nm'shaan and began searching for a target. The search was short-lived as a large zhan in thick metal armor burst through with bayonet affixed, only to be felled from close range by a shot which ripped through the metal of his cuirass. The younger Tsyrrkunov worked the bolt of his rifle, feeling exhilarated by the passion of the moment and hoping to make Mahmet proud. A second zhan charged through the open way from around the corner, tripping over the body of his comrade and slipping to the ground on the blood smeared floor.

indent"Messa have mercy!" He shouted as his hands flew upward from his position on the ground to cover his face, attempting to serve as an aegis from the volley of the three m'sai before himself. They fell as quickly as they were raised, resting on his limp body. The floor inside of the bucolic structure pooled with the blood of the tajara and livestock which passed to the other realm as the defenders traded fire with the invaders outside. Arrkady reached into his pocket for a fresh clip of bullets, finding only one set of five remaining. Mahmet lowered his rifle with its bolt open, sighing as he looked wistfully at the dead rebels near the barn door.

indent"Does ANYONE have any ammo?" called a zhan from the second floor.

indent"One clip!" Mahmet replied, looking at Arrkady. The rebel on the upper floor scoffed and grimaced, making a motion in prayer to the gods. Arrkady took aim, steadying his cheek against the butt of his rifle. He could clearly see the machine gun placed on the fence, breathing fire in his direction. His hands tensed their grip as he sighed in relaxation, his sights slowly stabilizing over the man who killed so many. His finger began to pull on the trigger when his target wheeled around to face his rear before dropping behind the fence. The rest of the gunner's fire team swiveled to face the crackling of rifles which followed them from the woods. Arrkady released his grip, looking around the side of his sights to see what was happening.

indent"Friends! There's friends! We're saved!" The zhan shouted from position of observation. The gunfire died down and eventually ended for the first time in hours. After a few silent moments, a mixed group of a dozen hharar and m'sai entered into the barn.

indent"Friends! Don't shoot."


indentAfter the battle at the barn, the rebel band collected ammunition from the dead and started searching the village for survivors. For three long hours the ruins of Shevarrditsa were exhaustively explored through small houses torn by firefights and buildings ruined by grenades and bombs. Much of the commons were thoroughly burned by bottled firebombs, leaving only destroyed provisions, black smoke, charred corpses, and the awful stench of burnt flesh and hair. The brothers approached the Tsyrrkunov residence which had half caved in from an explosion to its western face near the road. Two bodies of soldiers lied on the pathway leading to the front door, and on the inside lied three more black uniformed tajara who were viciously clawed and stabbed. Lying slumped against the far wall which was covered in blood was the body of Yefemiy in his old uniform. Several bleeding holes decorated his body, and a dagger rested in his stomach. His lifeless crestfallen eyes stared only at the hardwood floor in front of him. In silence, the two brothers looked at him, their raw nerves screaming in every corner of their body louder than any scream they could emit. With much solemnity, they pulled his body away from the wall and from atop a trapdoor to the cellar. The red-stained boards of the trapdoor were pulled open by Mahmet to reveal the Tsyrrkunov sisters cowering beneath with a small stockpile of the household's grains and breads. That night, the body of Yefemiy Tsyrrkunov was buried in front of the family residence. The survivors buried as many of their beloved as they could before setting off deeper into the Khazan Mountains.

 

[WIP]Part Six: Winter in Khazan:

indentFlakes of snow descended from the soft gray clouds which enveloped the sky, flooding the mountainous woodlands below in a sea of white. Beneath the coniferous trees, a stern youthful man wrapped his gloved fingers around the stock of a wooden rifle which was wrapped in white blankets. His breathing was measured and controlled. A puff of white gas blew from his mouth into the wind each time he exhaled. Ahead of him down the hill slightly over two hundred meters away was an empty road in a crevice between his hillside and another. Though he was lying in ambuscade alongside his brother, Malik, and two adolescent hharar boys, none of them dared to speak. The world itself was enveloped in silence for hours, disturbed only by the occasional rustling of dead shrubs and branches by the small game which went about their daily lives. Five pairs of eyes stared at a bend in the road on their left, waiting for something- anything- to round the corner onto the winding trodden dirt in front of them. The braying of a khur’miurr raharr finally rescued each of them from their anxieties. Slowly, the woolly earthen fur of the Nose-Horn turned the corner. It's large expansive broadside gradually revealed itself as it strove to pull its freight of tajara and wood up the slope. The tajara at the reins seemed to be a hharar in laborer's overalls covered in a large cloak of fur, while two more in distinctive black uniforms with double breasted wool coats hunched in the wagon. If khur'miurr raharr had been their targets, then it would have been an easy shot, yet the bobbing heads of the tajara in black nav'twir caps proved a far more difficult target.



 

Edited by Guest

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For those of you whom are curious for a new post being used to continue the story: CharacterStoriesInANutshell.png.47d70ebd7012ce9f432cac49287aca8f.png

 

It is still WIP.

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Part Five: Messa's Tears is now up in its entirety! It only took 14 months. Here's hoping with some dedication that the rest of this story can come out in the foreseeable future. At the very least, parts Six and Seven are not very long, but when we reach volume 2, all the parts are really long. So it's still going to be a real challenge.

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I tried to swoop in and add more to part six, but then I was reminded that forum editing is not possible at the moment. When it's re-enabled I'll wrap up part 6 and eventually get around to tidying up part five like I've been avoiding.

 

It won't let me edit my old story posts, so I had to make a new post, which can hopefully be edited in the future.

Edited by Mofo1995
Testing.

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[WIP]Part Six: Winter in Khazan:

Quote

     Flakes of snow descended from the soft gray clouds which enveloped the sky, flooding the mountainous woodlands below in a sea of white. Beneath the coniferous trees, a stern youthful man wrapped his gloved fingers around the stock of a wooden rifle which was wrapped in white blankets. His breathing was measured and controlled. A puff of white gas blew from his mouth into the wind each time he exhaled. Ahead of him down the hill slightly over two hundred meters away was an empty road in a crevice between his hillside and another. Though he was lying in ambuscade alongside his brother, Malik, and two adolescent hharar boys, none of them dared to speak. The world itself was enveloped in silence for hours, disturbed only by the occasional rustling of dead shrubs and branches by the small game which went about their daily lives. Five pairs of eyes stared at a bend in the road on their left, waiting for something- anything- to round the corner onto the winding trodden dirt in front of them. The braying of a khur’miurr raharr finally rescued each of them from their anxieties. Slowly, the woolly earthen fur of the Nose-Horn turned the corner. It's large expansive broadside gradually revealed itself as it strove to pull its freight of tajara and wood up the slope. The tajara at the reins seemed to be a hharar in laborer's overalls covered in a large cloak of fur, while two more in distinctive black uniforms with double breasted wool coats hunched in the wagon. If khur'miurr raharr had been their targets, then it would have been an easy shot, yet the bobbing heads of the tajara in black nav'twir caps proved a far more difficult target. The young rebels steadied their aim as the wagon rounded the turn and was slowly pulled away. 

     The first gunshot erupted from one of the hharar boys, and soon after, three more shots reverberated in the air. A flock of birds scattered into the sky from the barren branches above. The wagon on the road below stopped abruptly as tajara screamed. One of the soldiers leaped into a bank of snow by the roadside, bullets whistling around him and failing to meet their mark. 

 

 

 

 

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