Okay, I didn't really do anything that involved fire, I just wanted to name the post that.
Last night I was Napoleon's aid. Until I decided to take his empire for himself. So yeah... we used firearms and all that, but not really much to do with fire directly. I did decide to mess around and invented the tazer. That was fun, until I ran out of materials for the batteries. I was a little to ethical, or maybe just lazy, to go take over more kingdoms that had easy access to the resources necessary for these. I by easy access to resources, I mean people easy to enslave. Times were different than, so it wasn't seen as evil and inhuman like it is today (by most).
Oh yes! I nearly forgot. Remember that story from Sparta awhile ago? Where I conquered the Persian Empire? Well, I took over all of Europe, most of northern Africa, and the entire western section of Asia (everything a few hundred miles west of China). I took over Great Britain, which was never Great Britain here because of me. Iceland, Greenland, most of Canada and and a large portion of where the United States is today. I was actually on campaign to Australia when I awoke. That had been my first journey. After almost literally having the whole world in your hands, suddenly waking up as a normal boy in some neighborhood is quite... strange. It was hard to recover, but I've learned since than.
Until another time!
One last thing! Sorry, I nearly forgot. If you have a Facebook account, please like the page I created so I can hopefully build up a community of followers. It would feel nice to have my travels be appreciated and known! Here is the link: http://www.facebook.com/pages/I-Dreamed-A-Reality/
And to the one person who seems to want to comment, thank you!
((W)) ((W))
JJ
Showing posts with label Spartan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spartan. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
A King is Chosen
I decided to finally finish (or at least continue) my story in Sparta. I haven't been on in two days though, sorry about that. Yesterday my entire family was sick (and are still recovering). All my research and blogging time went down the drain. We almost had to bring one of them to the Emergancy Room. Yet I was fine, since I had been living different since I came back my first night.
So the night of my last blog I think I went into a Lord of the Rings type world. I helped a group of villages fend off orcs for several months. Those orcs were so easy, but there were so many. Their arrows are a pain though. They may not be accurate or go very far, but they are heavy and barbed. A large, crude arrow head attached to a thick shaft stuck in your flesh is no fun. Especially when you have seven of them in you at once (wanna take a guess as to when I left?). I helped the villagers make better weapons, but I really wish I had known how to make an English Longbow. Or at least had been able to find some elves with their bows, if I actually was in Middle Earth that is.
These villagers did not have the philosophy nor the strength and training to live up to the Spartan standards of training I had originally taught them. So I had to put more emphasis on long range combat (bows, spears, catapults, ect.) ambushes, daily drills and formations, and other stuff. I couldn't teach them to make an unbreakable shield wall, but I could teach them to get in ranks and hold for awhile. They weren't soldiers, after all; but just normal people. Had my Spartans been there, it would have seemed almost like a typical training day every time we fought the orcs. Pretty darn easy. Many would likely prefer to go out and get a few dozen orc skulls than stay at the villages training, because gatherings skulls would be so much easier. But... I didn't have my Spartans, so I had to do the best I could with the villagers.
Now, speaking of Spartans, and since I called this post "A King is Chosen", I should get to the rest of my first story now. I left off, I believe, where I became the leader of a "squad". As I said, we did training "games" with and against other squads. Also against the helots. As the years went by, I became parts of bigger groups. Became a better soldier. And fought in real battles. By the time I became a full fledged soldier (a few years after I turned 30), I was the main war leader in Sparta. Even the kings looked to me much of the time, and they were the traditional war leaders.
Since the Greek City States were almost always in a state of war, it gave us Spartans plenty of time to relax from training. One of the Kings decided to do so as well. He lead an attack on Athens, bringing me with him believing I would greatly increase their chances. Otherwise he might never had attacked Athens head on like this. And increase their chances I did... I just didn't increase the King's chances. He died in battle, on the front line, by my side. His name was Leonidas. Some of you may recongize this name.
With Athens under our control, we thought no one could beat us. However, we forgot the Persians. While we made war with our neighbors, they Persians had been making threats towards all of Greece. We overlooked and ignored them. And the last time they had attacked, at the battle of Marathon, the ATHENIANS had managed to drive them back. If the Athens could stop a Persian attack, why couldn't we Spartans? We sat back happily and conquerored city after city. Then word came of the Persians finally coming. And since we took Athens and the other King died, I was chosen to take his place. I had even killed the messenger from the Persians asking for our allegience.
We decided to hold them off at a narrow pass between the mountains and the sea; a place called Thermopylae. Yes, the same place Leonidas historically held of the Persians. But I had changed things here. There were not the estimated 200,000-800,000 Persians vs 7,000 Greeks, including Leonidas and his 300 Spartans. No. This time, There were 2,000,000 Persians. We heard of them gathering troops for years, but never cared. The more Sparta conquerored and the stronger we became, the bigger Persia made her armies. And the worst part, I had the same difficulty gathering troops that Leonidas historically had. The Persians came during the Olymic games, as well as the Spartan festival of Carneia. A war festival, pretty much. And each one of these events prevented any military action during their course. And two of them at the same time was even worse. When I said we should gather forces to stop the Persians, every Greek said it would bring upon us the curses of the gods.
I told them the gods will have no one to curse or bless if the Persians were allowed to invade. Who would offer them sacrifices if all of the the Greeks lay dead? I told them that if the gods did not want me to go with my armies, than they may stop me. I challenged the gods to stop me. And nothing happened.
I gathered over 100,000 soldiers. Including over 10,000 Spartans. The Persians stood no chance. After a week of fighting, they began to retreat. We chased them. We hunted them. We slaughtered them. It was whispered among the Persians that I was our Greek god of war, Ares. They thought the very gods of the Greeks were fighting against them. Persia was the first empire to fall to Sparta. And it was not the last.
Now after all this, you can see what I thought of some orcs. I fought them for months, and it was to easy. Then one day I simply woke up. Last night was different though. I was gone only a week. I stayed just long enough to prevent the Cold War going Hot. All I had to do was keep the Americans from assassinating whoever was in charge of the U.S.S.R. That was pretty simple.
Well, that's all for today.
So the night of my last blog I think I went into a Lord of the Rings type world. I helped a group of villages fend off orcs for several months. Those orcs were so easy, but there were so many. Their arrows are a pain though. They may not be accurate or go very far, but they are heavy and barbed. A large, crude arrow head attached to a thick shaft stuck in your flesh is no fun. Especially when you have seven of them in you at once (wanna take a guess as to when I left?). I helped the villagers make better weapons, but I really wish I had known how to make an English Longbow. Or at least had been able to find some elves with their bows, if I actually was in Middle Earth that is.
These villagers did not have the philosophy nor the strength and training to live up to the Spartan standards of training I had originally taught them. So I had to put more emphasis on long range combat (bows, spears, catapults, ect.) ambushes, daily drills and formations, and other stuff. I couldn't teach them to make an unbreakable shield wall, but I could teach them to get in ranks and hold for awhile. They weren't soldiers, after all; but just normal people. Had my Spartans been there, it would have seemed almost like a typical training day every time we fought the orcs. Pretty darn easy. Many would likely prefer to go out and get a few dozen orc skulls than stay at the villages training, because gatherings skulls would be so much easier. But... I didn't have my Spartans, so I had to do the best I could with the villagers.
Now, speaking of Spartans, and since I called this post "A King is Chosen", I should get to the rest of my first story now. I left off, I believe, where I became the leader of a "squad". As I said, we did training "games" with and against other squads. Also against the helots. As the years went by, I became parts of bigger groups. Became a better soldier. And fought in real battles. By the time I became a full fledged soldier (a few years after I turned 30), I was the main war leader in Sparta. Even the kings looked to me much of the time, and they were the traditional war leaders.
Since the Greek City States were almost always in a state of war, it gave us Spartans plenty of time to relax from training. One of the Kings decided to do so as well. He lead an attack on Athens, bringing me with him believing I would greatly increase their chances. Otherwise he might never had attacked Athens head on like this. And increase their chances I did... I just didn't increase the King's chances. He died in battle, on the front line, by my side. His name was Leonidas. Some of you may recongize this name.
With Athens under our control, we thought no one could beat us. However, we forgot the Persians. While we made war with our neighbors, they Persians had been making threats towards all of Greece. We overlooked and ignored them. And the last time they had attacked, at the battle of Marathon, the ATHENIANS had managed to drive them back. If the Athens could stop a Persian attack, why couldn't we Spartans? We sat back happily and conquerored city after city. Then word came of the Persians finally coming. And since we took Athens and the other King died, I was chosen to take his place. I had even killed the messenger from the Persians asking for our allegience.
We decided to hold them off at a narrow pass between the mountains and the sea; a place called Thermopylae. Yes, the same place Leonidas historically held of the Persians. But I had changed things here. There were not the estimated 200,000-800,000 Persians vs 7,000 Greeks, including Leonidas and his 300 Spartans. No. This time, There were 2,000,000 Persians. We heard of them gathering troops for years, but never cared. The more Sparta conquerored and the stronger we became, the bigger Persia made her armies. And the worst part, I had the same difficulty gathering troops that Leonidas historically had. The Persians came during the Olymic games, as well as the Spartan festival of Carneia. A war festival, pretty much. And each one of these events prevented any military action during their course. And two of them at the same time was even worse. When I said we should gather forces to stop the Persians, every Greek said it would bring upon us the curses of the gods.
I told them the gods will have no one to curse or bless if the Persians were allowed to invade. Who would offer them sacrifices if all of the the Greeks lay dead? I told them that if the gods did not want me to go with my armies, than they may stop me. I challenged the gods to stop me. And nothing happened.
I gathered over 100,000 soldiers. Including over 10,000 Spartans. The Persians stood no chance. After a week of fighting, they began to retreat. We chased them. We hunted them. We slaughtered them. It was whispered among the Persians that I was our Greek god of war, Ares. They thought the very gods of the Greeks were fighting against them. Persia was the first empire to fall to Sparta. And it was not the last.
Now after all this, you can see what I thought of some orcs. I fought them for months, and it was to easy. Then one day I simply woke up. Last night was different though. I was gone only a week. I stayed just long enough to prevent the Cold War going Hot. All I had to do was keep the Americans from assassinating whoever was in charge of the U.S.S.R. That was pretty simple.
Well, that's all for today.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Five score and seven years ago...
Okay, I went back farther than that. It was the American Civil War this time! Well... not quite. I actually came in about 50 years before the scene. Everything was different. Napoleon had won the war against England long ago. America had expanded into Canada because the British Empire no longer existed. And, there was no Abe Lincoln or the Gettysburg address. I just felt like giving this post that title in his honor.
This time around, the south was still fighting for slaves, but the north was actually those up in Canada. They pretty much stayed out of it. However, those in between were the ones fighting hard against slavery. And I actually came in the picture a few days before the first major fight. There was a town halfway between the South and the Middle (seriously, that's what they were called. Middlers). A slave had committed a crime and was about to be hanged for it as though he were a normal man, according to the laws of the Middlers. However, the slave's owner believed they couldn't do that to his "property". The slave was hanged, and a fight ensued. And since staying neutral meant being in the Middle... I helped fight against slavery this time (though I had taken thousands, no, probably more like tens of thousands of war prisoners in the past and made them slaves).
As you could hopefully guess, my experience with guns went really far. When the war started, the common weapon was a matchlock musket (takes a long time to reload, inaccurate beyond 50 meters or so, and unreliable), and within the first year we had something reminiscent of the M1 Gerand. Cannons took a leap... or at least the range and accuracy of their ammo did. And their explosive payload. They went from five pound cannon balls to, well, in some cases 100 pound flying bombs. I even made some body armor, could stop a pistol dead. And a rifle from longer out.
But as it turned out, the South was more usefull to the North then the Middle was (yeah, I'm confused too. Still am). So we ended up being attacked from above and below. Talk about trying to cut out the Middle man. Anyway, lots of big explosions, gunfights, trench wars; basically a combination of what I had done before. I never got to find out who won though. I was watching some troops march back into a city after a major victory when I woke up.
I'll continue on my story of my time in Sparta another time. Maybe tomorrow. When I get more people to read it...
This time around, the south was still fighting for slaves, but the north was actually those up in Canada. They pretty much stayed out of it. However, those in between were the ones fighting hard against slavery. And I actually came in the picture a few days before the first major fight. There was a town halfway between the South and the Middle (seriously, that's what they were called. Middlers). A slave had committed a crime and was about to be hanged for it as though he were a normal man, according to the laws of the Middlers. However, the slave's owner believed they couldn't do that to his "property". The slave was hanged, and a fight ensued. And since staying neutral meant being in the Middle... I helped fight against slavery this time (though I had taken thousands, no, probably more like tens of thousands of war prisoners in the past and made them slaves).
As you could hopefully guess, my experience with guns went really far. When the war started, the common weapon was a matchlock musket (takes a long time to reload, inaccurate beyond 50 meters or so, and unreliable), and within the first year we had something reminiscent of the M1 Gerand. Cannons took a leap... or at least the range and accuracy of their ammo did. And their explosive payload. They went from five pound cannon balls to, well, in some cases 100 pound flying bombs. I even made some body armor, could stop a pistol dead. And a rifle from longer out.
But as it turned out, the South was more usefull to the North then the Middle was (yeah, I'm confused too. Still am). So we ended up being attacked from above and below. Talk about trying to cut out the Middle man. Anyway, lots of big explosions, gunfights, trench wars; basically a combination of what I had done before. I never got to find out who won though. I was watching some troops march back into a city after a major victory when I woke up.
I'll continue on my story of my time in Sparta another time. Maybe tomorrow. When I get more people to read it...
Friday, March 25, 2011
Not again
I've spent the last several hours becoming reoriented. Remember how I said I was in 500 BC Greece last night? Yeah, I had meant to tell you more about that. But guess what happened instead? I went SOMEWHERE ELSE last night too! This time I think I was in World War I. I stayed there for several months. But I don't know, it was all a blur. All I can remember clearly, is it was hell. Some people would stand up for a second and their head would never come back down with their body. I would wake up to maggots in my bread. And I had it good! Others would wake up with maggots IN THEIR OPEN WOUNDS they recieved from guns and grenades!
Now to tell you a bit more about living in Greece. After being dragged back to Sparta as a slave, I was put to work as a farmer. The work that a "real" man couldn't do because he was in war. Anyway, a bit of history you might not know, but for a spartan youth to become a man he has to sneak out of the city one night and with his bare hands, kill a helot (a slave). Well, remember how I said I was a slave here? Yeah. Apparently one of the strongest youths came out one night, and picked me to try and slay. I was awaken in the night by someone picking up the rock I was using as a pillow (I was sleeping out on the ground, didn't have anywhere else). I looked up and he had it raised above his head, ready to slam it down on me. I launched my legs backwards up above and behind my head, nailing him in the gut. He went tumbling back, while dropping the rock on his foot. I got up, ran over there, and managed to choke him to death. Next morning, I thought the others were going to kill me. Instead, they rewarded me! By... taking me into the city and whipping me until I fainted.
You remember how I said last night I appeared in world war I? Luckily, I appeared behind british lines, so I didn't have the language barrier like last time in greece. However, there was their strange accent. And I swear, if someone mentions tea time one more time! WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FREAKING WARZONE! And all they could focus on were the tea rations. Wow... Also luckily for me though, all my years in Sparta started coming back to me. I would exercise regularly (yes, in a four foot tall trench I managed a full body exercise everyday). And my training also allowed me to sneak out regularly to get real food. I stole food from the officers on BOTH sides quite a lot. I did not expect them to have pork. That was a surprise. And bacon }:)
Now back to my "reward". I ended up finding out later, that this stupid whipping ceremony was actually what they did to all their kids in training. They would take all the kids being trained for war periodically, whether they were good or bad, and have them stand in front of these posts and whip them. They would whip them to see how long the kids could take it without making a sound. Those who fainted (like um... me) were considered weak. At least I managed not to cry out, like many I saw. But even if I had, they would have whipped me until I stopped. That's how they got the kids to shutup. If he misbehaved, they would beat him. If he cried out or made a sound, they would keep beating him until he stopped. Even if he fainted or died.
That, and the actual training was intense. My first day they brought me for pankration (possibly the oldest martial arts, but it didn't seem like an art. There were no rules), I saw one 10 year old boy KILL an older boy while practicing. And guess what, he was REWARDED FOR IT! Not like I had been, but an actual reward! And the boy that died? When his friend shed A SINGLE TEAR, he was beat. That boy couldn't walk for a week. But he never shed another tear, ever.
I was surprised when I left WWI. I was tired of sitting in the trenches, so I spoke to the general (it was HARD getting in contact with him). I convinced him to follow this plan of attack I had thought of (more experience from Sparta). The army spent the next several days getting ready. The day of the attack, I was partially awake, waiting for the sun to rise. Then I opened my eyes and was in my bed I had fell asleep in last night. I was almost shocked from all the change. As I said, I spent several hours reorienting myself. Now to go... do something meaningful. I don't want to go to sleep tonight. If this happens again...
Now to tell you a bit more about living in Greece. After being dragged back to Sparta as a slave, I was put to work as a farmer. The work that a "real" man couldn't do because he was in war. Anyway, a bit of history you might not know, but for a spartan youth to become a man he has to sneak out of the city one night and with his bare hands, kill a helot (a slave). Well, remember how I said I was a slave here? Yeah. Apparently one of the strongest youths came out one night, and picked me to try and slay. I was awaken in the night by someone picking up the rock I was using as a pillow (I was sleeping out on the ground, didn't have anywhere else). I looked up and he had it raised above his head, ready to slam it down on me. I launched my legs backwards up above and behind my head, nailing him in the gut. He went tumbling back, while dropping the rock on his foot. I got up, ran over there, and managed to choke him to death. Next morning, I thought the others were going to kill me. Instead, they rewarded me! By... taking me into the city and whipping me until I fainted.
You remember how I said last night I appeared in world war I? Luckily, I appeared behind british lines, so I didn't have the language barrier like last time in greece. However, there was their strange accent. And I swear, if someone mentions tea time one more time! WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FREAKING WARZONE! And all they could focus on were the tea rations. Wow... Also luckily for me though, all my years in Sparta started coming back to me. I would exercise regularly (yes, in a four foot tall trench I managed a full body exercise everyday). And my training also allowed me to sneak out regularly to get real food. I stole food from the officers on BOTH sides quite a lot. I did not expect them to have pork. That was a surprise. And bacon }:)
Now back to my "reward". I ended up finding out later, that this stupid whipping ceremony was actually what they did to all their kids in training. They would take all the kids being trained for war periodically, whether they were good or bad, and have them stand in front of these posts and whip them. They would whip them to see how long the kids could take it without making a sound. Those who fainted (like um... me) were considered weak. At least I managed not to cry out, like many I saw. But even if I had, they would have whipped me until I stopped. That's how they got the kids to shutup. If he misbehaved, they would beat him. If he cried out or made a sound, they would keep beating him until he stopped. Even if he fainted or died.
That, and the actual training was intense. My first day they brought me for pankration (possibly the oldest martial arts, but it didn't seem like an art. There were no rules), I saw one 10 year old boy KILL an older boy while practicing. And guess what, he was REWARDED FOR IT! Not like I had been, but an actual reward! And the boy that died? When his friend shed A SINGLE TEAR, he was beat. That boy couldn't walk for a week. But he never shed another tear, ever.
I was surprised when I left WWI. I was tired of sitting in the trenches, so I spoke to the general (it was HARD getting in contact with him). I convinced him to follow this plan of attack I had thought of (more experience from Sparta). The army spent the next several days getting ready. The day of the attack, I was partially awake, waiting for the sun to rise. Then I opened my eyes and was in my bed I had fell asleep in last night. I was almost shocked from all the change. As I said, I spent several hours reorienting myself. Now to go... do something meaningful. I don't want to go to sleep tonight. If this happens again...
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Am I awake?
Okay, you may have a hard time believing this, but 12 hours ago I was in 500 BC Greece. Either that or I still am, and am just dreaming.
I'm getting ahead of myself here, aren't I? Alright. When I remember back far enough, about 50 years for me, but probably yesterday for you, I was living a normal life. I did school, I hung out with friends, listened to music, all that good stuff. Unfortunately, I was a little to normal. A little smaller and weaker than the neighborhood bullies, a little dumber than the average kid my age, you know, all that stuff. But then I went to sleep last night:
It feels like it was so long ago. I remember waking up on the side of the road in nothing but a tunic. This wasn't a paved road in a city like what I was used to. This was a dirt road through a grass plain in site of the mountains. And I didn't just wake up on my own. I was picked up off the ground by this man yelling at me in some language I couldn't understand. He was really tall, muscular, and lean. He had three others following him, but these were smaller and weaker than him. I soon learned they were his slaves. And he was a Spartan Warrior...
Now I'm stuck wondering whether I'm dreaming or not as I type this. I lived a whole life in this other time, other world. I was an old man, now I'm a boy again. At a computer. This must be a dream. I hardly care about what I cared for yesterday. Can hardly remember any recent events. My mind is stuck in 500 BC. Is this just me getting over what's happened the last half century? I don't know. Am I awake even? Am I?
After I was rudely awaken, I was forced to live as a slave for several days. However, I guess that since I was so different (since before being woken up I was... awake here, in this world, or time, or whatever), they decided to see if I could make a warrior out of myself. I won't get into those details AT ALL! Yes, they were the most elite soldiers in history possibly, but if I told you what they did to get that tough no one would be allowed to read this blog. It's just that intense. And, as we see it now, inhumane. But it worked. And for the next decade, I was put through that. It was not fun.
Now to go contemplate what's real and what's not. I might do more tomorrow.
I'm getting ahead of myself here, aren't I? Alright. When I remember back far enough, about 50 years for me, but probably yesterday for you, I was living a normal life. I did school, I hung out with friends, listened to music, all that good stuff. Unfortunately, I was a little to normal. A little smaller and weaker than the neighborhood bullies, a little dumber than the average kid my age, you know, all that stuff. But then I went to sleep last night:
It feels like it was so long ago. I remember waking up on the side of the road in nothing but a tunic. This wasn't a paved road in a city like what I was used to. This was a dirt road through a grass plain in site of the mountains. And I didn't just wake up on my own. I was picked up off the ground by this man yelling at me in some language I couldn't understand. He was really tall, muscular, and lean. He had three others following him, but these were smaller and weaker than him. I soon learned they were his slaves. And he was a Spartan Warrior...
Now I'm stuck wondering whether I'm dreaming or not as I type this. I lived a whole life in this other time, other world. I was an old man, now I'm a boy again. At a computer. This must be a dream. I hardly care about what I cared for yesterday. Can hardly remember any recent events. My mind is stuck in 500 BC. Is this just me getting over what's happened the last half century? I don't know. Am I awake even? Am I?
After I was rudely awaken, I was forced to live as a slave for several days. However, I guess that since I was so different (since before being woken up I was... awake here, in this world, or time, or whatever), they decided to see if I could make a warrior out of myself. I won't get into those details AT ALL! Yes, they were the most elite soldiers in history possibly, but if I told you what they did to get that tough no one would be allowed to read this blog. It's just that intense. And, as we see it now, inhumane. But it worked. And for the next decade, I was put through that. It was not fun.
Now to go contemplate what's real and what's not. I might do more tomorrow.
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