So... apar from this band, are there other groups of Persian resistance fighers? Yazd, Tabarestan, anyone?
The Flame Reawoken: The Restoration of Zoroastrian Persia
- Thread starter Mental_Wizard
- Start date
the flame reawoken
iv
Silence filled the night. The stars shone from the heavens like glittering diamonds, alone moving at all in the absolute darkness. The dark gates of Bardasir loomed in the distance, perhaps 30 paces away. Ardashir and his men sat, waiting for a sign. It was clear to him now that he had been meant to die on this mission. Why else would no reinforcements have been sent? No one could take Bardasir with 20 men! In spite of this, he had resolved to do so. It wasn't a matter of a ability: Eranshahr had to be free. It had been free for many hundreds of years. It was simply the natural order of things. Ardashir had risen himself to his feet in anger, crushing some loose dirt underneath him. The cold air of the night left his compatriots shivering alongside him. The breeze battered at them, leaving them even further chilled. This did nothing to impact their resolve.
Suddenly, a distant creaking sound could be heard as the gates of Bardasir shifted open. A cloaked figure stood at the doorway, motioning the far-off soldiers inside. They quietly approached the door, and saw underneath the cloak the farmer from earlier that day. He held a dagger concealed in his pocket.
"The people are with you," he whispered. "Attack now, and the Arabs are fast asleep. The people will fall upon them in fury."
"This we shall do then," assented Ardashir.
The screaming of the first soldier killed woke most of the others. Many of the soldiers woke to find angry peasants that had appropriated their own weapons standing above them, and thirsty for their blood. The city, like Aspahan, was soon bathed in blood. The inner citadel was all that remained. Tall and imposing, the soldiers could hold out there indefinitely, and from it harass the town. The people marched on the tower, but the gates had been shut from the inside and were too strong to break. Tossing aside his sword, Ardashir fell to the ground in front of the citadel. The puzzled villagers and soldiers looked on with confusion. Ardashir began to feel the contents of the earth beneath the citadel. It was built on unstable dirt, just like that which he had crushed not too long ago on the outside of the city.
"All of you, get shovels! We will dig underneath the citadel! Any archers among us: keep your arrows tuned to the top of the tower, lest they harass us as we dig them out," roared Ardashir.
Soon, 30 men had begun digging under the mighty gate. Ardashir marvelled at the incompetence of the builder, to put such a strong gate aloft such weak soil. Soon, a hole underneath the gate began to form. Digging for another hour, the citizens climbed up into the citadel, to the shock of the Arabs still inside. A rain of swords and arrows flew into the hole, but it was not enough. The rush of the people outside of the hole was like a buildup of seismic energy, as they leapt out and hacked away at the defenders. They raced further and further up the citadel, taking heavy casualties as they went but losing no amount of resolve. A few stayed behind and forced the great gate open, as even more of the town poured into the citadel.
The defenders by now had been driven back to just the top level of the tower, and frantically searched for fiery projectiles to hurl down the rapidly opening hatch to the lower levels. Suddenly, the hatch flew open, as Persians flooded out of it, quickly dispatching the few remaining defenders. They had taken the tower, but at something similar to four times as many losses as at Aspahan. In spite of this, the accomplishment was of a new magnitude. It had been an entire Rashidun army inside Bardasir, and no survivors were left from it. The peril for the besiegers of the tower was not over, however. Having seen movement far above on the tower, and both sides dressed similarly, the archers below had begun firing. The victorious conquerors searched about for a standard to show that they were friendly, and they found one. A ragged Simurgh was found in the cellars of the citadel, and quickly hoisted to the battlements. The archers stopped their barrage as they saw this, and Ardashir moved his way to the edge of the citadel's battlements.
"People of Bardasir! You are free from the invaders at last! Eranshahr yet still lies under the Arab yoke. Join me, rightful Shahanshah, in destroying those who would oppress our lands! We must bring freedom to all the land, and restore the rule of my fathers!" Ardashir exulted.
The people went up in a cheer. As the dawn rose over the city, and the Simurgh gleamed in the early light of the day, the people brought the news of the obliteration of the garrison to the surrounding towns. From every town, eager men came, many of the older ones weeping, as they once again saw a mighty and resurgent Persian army, for the first time in so long. With an army of nearly 3,000 at his back by now, Ardashir left Bardasir triumphant. The Simurgh was quickly made into many copies, which became the official standard of Ardashir's army. While the Arabs still ruled so much of the land, the tide had now turned against them in the entire region. Over the next few days, the garrisons of many towns fled the wrath of the citizens, retreating westward, and often ending up caught by peasant mobs, albeit taking heavy casualties to subdue. Nearly the whole region had fallen to the nascent Ardashid army.
Ormizd heard the news three days later from a messenger.
It was said in his camp that his cry of rage could be heard for miles.
1)- a Simurgh is a mythological bird of Persian origin, similar to a phoenix.
this length better? I could still probably go longer.
iv
Silence filled the night. The stars shone from the heavens like glittering diamonds, alone moving at all in the absolute darkness. The dark gates of Bardasir loomed in the distance, perhaps 30 paces away. Ardashir and his men sat, waiting for a sign. It was clear to him now that he had been meant to die on this mission. Why else would no reinforcements have been sent? No one could take Bardasir with 20 men! In spite of this, he had resolved to do so. It wasn't a matter of a ability: Eranshahr had to be free. It had been free for many hundreds of years. It was simply the natural order of things. Ardashir had risen himself to his feet in anger, crushing some loose dirt underneath him. The cold air of the night left his compatriots shivering alongside him. The breeze battered at them, leaving them even further chilled. This did nothing to impact their resolve.
Suddenly, a distant creaking sound could be heard as the gates of Bardasir shifted open. A cloaked figure stood at the doorway, motioning the far-off soldiers inside. They quietly approached the door, and saw underneath the cloak the farmer from earlier that day. He held a dagger concealed in his pocket.
"The people are with you," he whispered. "Attack now, and the Arabs are fast asleep. The people will fall upon them in fury."
"This we shall do then," assented Ardashir.
The screaming of the first soldier killed woke most of the others. Many of the soldiers woke to find angry peasants that had appropriated their own weapons standing above them, and thirsty for their blood. The city, like Aspahan, was soon bathed in blood. The inner citadel was all that remained. Tall and imposing, the soldiers could hold out there indefinitely, and from it harass the town. The people marched on the tower, but the gates had been shut from the inside and were too strong to break. Tossing aside his sword, Ardashir fell to the ground in front of the citadel. The puzzled villagers and soldiers looked on with confusion. Ardashir began to feel the contents of the earth beneath the citadel. It was built on unstable dirt, just like that which he had crushed not too long ago on the outside of the city.
"All of you, get shovels! We will dig underneath the citadel! Any archers among us: keep your arrows tuned to the top of the tower, lest they harass us as we dig them out," roared Ardashir.
Soon, 30 men had begun digging under the mighty gate. Ardashir marvelled at the incompetence of the builder, to put such a strong gate aloft such weak soil. Soon, a hole underneath the gate began to form. Digging for another hour, the citizens climbed up into the citadel, to the shock of the Arabs still inside. A rain of swords and arrows flew into the hole, but it was not enough. The rush of the people outside of the hole was like a buildup of seismic energy, as they leapt out and hacked away at the defenders. They raced further and further up the citadel, taking heavy casualties as they went but losing no amount of resolve. A few stayed behind and forced the great gate open, as even more of the town poured into the citadel.
The defenders by now had been driven back to just the top level of the tower, and frantically searched for fiery projectiles to hurl down the rapidly opening hatch to the lower levels. Suddenly, the hatch flew open, as Persians flooded out of it, quickly dispatching the few remaining defenders. They had taken the tower, but at something similar to four times as many losses as at Aspahan. In spite of this, the accomplishment was of a new magnitude. It had been an entire Rashidun army inside Bardasir, and no survivors were left from it. The peril for the besiegers of the tower was not over, however. Having seen movement far above on the tower, and both sides dressed similarly, the archers below had begun firing. The victorious conquerors searched about for a standard to show that they were friendly, and they found one. A ragged Simurgh was found in the cellars of the citadel, and quickly hoisted to the battlements. The archers stopped their barrage as they saw this, and Ardashir moved his way to the edge of the citadel's battlements.
"People of Bardasir! You are free from the invaders at last! Eranshahr yet still lies under the Arab yoke. Join me, rightful Shahanshah, in destroying those who would oppress our lands! We must bring freedom to all the land, and restore the rule of my fathers!" Ardashir exulted.
The people went up in a cheer. As the dawn rose over the city, and the Simurgh gleamed in the early light of the day, the people brought the news of the obliteration of the garrison to the surrounding towns. From every town, eager men came, many of the older ones weeping, as they once again saw a mighty and resurgent Persian army, for the first time in so long. With an army of nearly 3,000 at his back by now, Ardashir left Bardasir triumphant. The Simurgh was quickly made into many copies, which became the official standard of Ardashir's army. While the Arabs still ruled so much of the land, the tide had now turned against them in the entire region. Over the next few days, the garrisons of many towns fled the wrath of the citizens, retreating westward, and often ending up caught by peasant mobs, albeit taking heavy casualties to subdue. Nearly the whole region had fallen to the nascent Ardashid army.
Ormizd heard the news three days later from a messenger.
It was said in his camp that his cry of rage could be heard for miles.
1)- a Simurgh is a mythological bird of Persian origin, similar to a phoenix.
this length better? I could still probably go longer.
After hearing Ardashirs victory Ormizd will be furious. He knows who is the true leader of the resistance now.
Certainly interesting. I think it's a bit too western though. I mean, I was personally imagining "The Persian Army" from the Crusader Kings II soundtrack. I'll give this more thought.
Well, there is also this compilation of zoroastrian chants on youtube that I found some time ago:
I may be christian, but my favorite non christian religion is zoroastrianism, it is so amazing!
I'll get v out today. Just not right now. I'm not really feeling like my writing would be any good right now. lol
v again will be the biggest so far.
v again will be the biggest so far.
the flame reawoken
v
The Ardashid army marched back to the camp of the main Persian army near Aspahan. It altogether felt quicker, probably because of the vast numbers of men now under the Simurgh. Hope had been restored to the land. Yet, there was an obstacle even before the continued liberation of Eranshahr. Ormizd was still at large, and still carried the hearts of many Persians of Aspahan. It would be folly to continue the liberation without dealing with the possible snake in their midst. He had sent the Shahanshah off to a certain death: how could he be trusted? The blood of the men boiled at this, indignant at the idea that a fellow Persian would betray their rightful ruler. They marched back a great distance in oppressive heat, provisioned by the spoils from the Arab army and supplies from the people of not only Bardasir but also all the surrounding villages. Ardashir trudged onward, grimacing in the heat. The men looked weary behind him, but seemed to have a certain determination to them he could not place: they clearly were inspired to continue going. He laughed a bit to himself, thinking about how he had conned nearly 3,000 men into believing his tale simply because they needed a hero. He could not have that wicked orator undo it all! The men were right; Ormizd had to die, preferebly not taking the rest of his army with him.
They reached the torchlit camp a little after sunset. The sun was oriented against a blood-red sky as it set. The clanging of armor could be heard as the soldiers of the encampment scrambled to meet them. These soldiers had their mouths agape upon seeing Ardashir decked in the regalia of the Shahanshahs, and the massive army behind him. Ormizd awoke at the following commotion. He strode to the front of the camp, pushing others aside, only to see many angry eyes upon him.
"Ormizd!" shouted Ardashir. "You are relieved of the command of this army, in the name of the Shahanshah Ardashir III, rightful ruler of Eranshahr! You plotted to have me killed as I besieged Bardasir. I convinced the good people of the city to aid my detachment and I, and we took the city, slaughtering the garrison. Since, several more towns have been liberated by the enthusiasm we have spread. And now my ranks have swelled. Of course, you already have heard all this. In any case, you can either surrender right here and pay for treason against your country, or I will compel your followers to listen to their Shahanshah, who has come to relieve them from your tyranny and restore them to freedom from the Arab yoke!"
Ormizd moved to say something, but did not. His brow seemed to furrow in an unnatural way, and a scowl was clearly visable upon his face. He stood angry but dumbfounded, having not known about the size of Ardashir's army.
"He has conned you all! He is filth, not some royalty! Now, my followers, seize him and we shall bargain with you, the misguided host!" Ormizd shrieked.
Ardashir roared with laughter. He fell on the ground, crying from the sheer emotion of his laughter. For a few minutes, the setting sun seemed to be the backdrop to nothing in the world but his laughter.
"You can't be serious!" Ardashir giggled. "These people are tired of your oppression. I hold the royal insignia, which I kept with me when I fled the Arabs many years ago. I chose to reveal myself only now because I am now old enough to lead men into battle, and because I am now knowledgeable in the ways of war, from the time I spent fighting in the east with the Onoq Turks. (1) To this end, I have returned to free Eranshahr, and I cannot do it without you, men of Aspahan, as well. I seek only the best for all of us. I will relight the fires of the temples and restore the rule of Ahura Mazda, if you all would only help me in this." He wept.
The men turned on Ormizd, seizing his arms and pinning him to the ground.
"What would you have us do with him, Shahanshah?" Asked a soldier.
"Keep guard over him in one of the inner tents. We will keep him as a prisoner for now." Ardashir had been merciful to the treacherous orator. He hoped that this act of mercy would endear all the men to him even more.
"Now, let us stay here and rest for a night! We must turn back and march east tomorrow, and make for the next closest Arab-controlled towns. We will liberate the east, and when our forces are swelled with the people of those regions, then we will be able to confront the armies that will inevitably arrive from the west to crush us! If we turn west now, we will be destroyed, although I reckon it'd be a close thing indeed!" A couple of the men heartily laughed at this. "Anyway, rest up, all of you! We have a duty to Eranshahr, and heavy eyelids ere dawn will do us no good!" Ardashir advised.
The men cavorted perhaps for longer than was fit, that night. The circumstances, dire though they were, felt quite the opposite to the men. Most of them drunk within the hour, they eventually retired to the sleeping quarters of the camp, with the mobile camp of the newcomers from the east added onto it. The whole army went down to rest. Or at least, most of the army did. Four soldiers had been tasked with keeping guard over Ormizd. They stood watch for several hours over his unmoving body.
_______________
Ormizd groaned at not moving for several hours. Alas, it was essential to his plan for him to do this. He looked around, seeing that the moon had now risen fully in the sky. Three of the soldiers around him had fallen asleep, very drunk. There was only one left, standing with his back to him, gazing out at the moon. This was Ormizd's chance! Ormizd quietly slid a blanket towards him. The soldier turned around behind him to see what the noise had been, but all he saw was Ormizd still lying there, seemingly asleep. It was no harm if the prisoner wanted a blanket, he figured. The soldier then slowly turned his head back outwards, distracted by the distant sound of some people in Aspahan. Ormizd next reached for the dagger at the belt of one of the drunk guards. It stuck a bit, but he manage to pry it loose. Making sure that the conscious soldier was looking the other way, he rose slowly with the blanket and dagger. Suddenly, he jumped at the guard, covering his mouth with the blanket before he could react, and running him through with the dagger. The guard crumpled to the ground, his screams for help completely muffled by the blanket. Ormizd quietly walked through the camp, his sound very nearly nonexistent over the snoring of the drunk soldiers. He left the camp, running towards the west.
The sun rose over the camp, and the soldiers awoke to the smell of blood thick in the air. There was a general panic in the camp, before the body was found.
One of Ormizd's guards had been run through with a dagger, and Ormizd was nowhere to be seen. Ardashir made his way over to the tent, looking groggy.
"Ormizd has escaped then. Very well. We must still march east. The loss of one of our own to that foul traitor is indeed regrettable. No doubt he intends to betray his people, faith, and Shahanshah to the Arabs! He will in time get the punishment deserved by such scum as he. Now we will bury our fallen comrade with the honor of a true hero of Eranshahr, and then we march east!" Ardashir ordered.
The men all mumured their assent, as the three guards still left alive looked pale and shaken. They held their faces in contortions of misery and grief, ashamed of their inebriation when their fellow soldier was in danger. They set him off to be prepared to be placed atop the dakhma (2) in Aspahan.
_______________
The city was little more than a small collection of huts. However, it was rapidly growing into an urban metropolis. Medina had exploded in population in a very short time. It was laden now with the great riches of the old Sassanid Empire, as well as many of the Roman. In the most dignified of the houses in the city, a richly dressed man sat upon a throne. A messenger scrambled inside, panting and coughing.
"My Caliph! There is news of a revolt in the east. Zoroastrians are stirring up rebellion again!" Wailed the messenger.
The great Caliph Uthman, ruler of the greatest empire of the world, sat, pondering this.
"This is no matter! Our armies will crush this rebellion. There are several armies already in the east. The peasants will be no match for them." The Caliph spoke calmly. He had not expected this. The last Shahanshah of those heretics had died four years previous! How could there now be a revolt?
A second messenger ran in, gasping and terrified.
"Caliph... there's... a... new... Shah in... east... our army... completely destroyed," the messenger shrieked, before falling dead.
Uthman grimaced. The east was resisting the righteousness of the Prophet like no other of the conquered lands! It had to be that heresy of fire... Uthman resolved to stamp it out.
"Alert my generals of this," he gestured to the other messenger. "The eastern lands must be pacified and put back under our control. The rebels probably expect us to immediately race after them... do not do this. Let them grow more and swell their ranks. Only then will a well-rested and grand army crush the infidels once and for all! Recall the generals in the west: there is no time to conquer empty desert when the riches of the east lie at risk!" Uthman spoke.
1)- Western Turkic Khaganate. The remnants of the earlier Gokturk Khaganate. Collapsed in OTL 659 AD.
2)- Tower of Silence. Place where the dead are prepared and left in Zoroastrian tradition.
Sorry for the delay in posting! I hope it was worth the wait.
v
The Ardashid army marched back to the camp of the main Persian army near Aspahan. It altogether felt quicker, probably because of the vast numbers of men now under the Simurgh. Hope had been restored to the land. Yet, there was an obstacle even before the continued liberation of Eranshahr. Ormizd was still at large, and still carried the hearts of many Persians of Aspahan. It would be folly to continue the liberation without dealing with the possible snake in their midst. He had sent the Shahanshah off to a certain death: how could he be trusted? The blood of the men boiled at this, indignant at the idea that a fellow Persian would betray their rightful ruler. They marched back a great distance in oppressive heat, provisioned by the spoils from the Arab army and supplies from the people of not only Bardasir but also all the surrounding villages. Ardashir trudged onward, grimacing in the heat. The men looked weary behind him, but seemed to have a certain determination to them he could not place: they clearly were inspired to continue going. He laughed a bit to himself, thinking about how he had conned nearly 3,000 men into believing his tale simply because they needed a hero. He could not have that wicked orator undo it all! The men were right; Ormizd had to die, preferebly not taking the rest of his army with him.
They reached the torchlit camp a little after sunset. The sun was oriented against a blood-red sky as it set. The clanging of armor could be heard as the soldiers of the encampment scrambled to meet them. These soldiers had their mouths agape upon seeing Ardashir decked in the regalia of the Shahanshahs, and the massive army behind him. Ormizd awoke at the following commotion. He strode to the front of the camp, pushing others aside, only to see many angry eyes upon him.
"Ormizd!" shouted Ardashir. "You are relieved of the command of this army, in the name of the Shahanshah Ardashir III, rightful ruler of Eranshahr! You plotted to have me killed as I besieged Bardasir. I convinced the good people of the city to aid my detachment and I, and we took the city, slaughtering the garrison. Since, several more towns have been liberated by the enthusiasm we have spread. And now my ranks have swelled. Of course, you already have heard all this. In any case, you can either surrender right here and pay for treason against your country, or I will compel your followers to listen to their Shahanshah, who has come to relieve them from your tyranny and restore them to freedom from the Arab yoke!"
Ormizd moved to say something, but did not. His brow seemed to furrow in an unnatural way, and a scowl was clearly visable upon his face. He stood angry but dumbfounded, having not known about the size of Ardashir's army.
"He has conned you all! He is filth, not some royalty! Now, my followers, seize him and we shall bargain with you, the misguided host!" Ormizd shrieked.
Ardashir roared with laughter. He fell on the ground, crying from the sheer emotion of his laughter. For a few minutes, the setting sun seemed to be the backdrop to nothing in the world but his laughter.
"You can't be serious!" Ardashir giggled. "These people are tired of your oppression. I hold the royal insignia, which I kept with me when I fled the Arabs many years ago. I chose to reveal myself only now because I am now old enough to lead men into battle, and because I am now knowledgeable in the ways of war, from the time I spent fighting in the east with the Onoq Turks. (1) To this end, I have returned to free Eranshahr, and I cannot do it without you, men of Aspahan, as well. I seek only the best for all of us. I will relight the fires of the temples and restore the rule of Ahura Mazda, if you all would only help me in this." He wept.
The men turned on Ormizd, seizing his arms and pinning him to the ground.
"What would you have us do with him, Shahanshah?" Asked a soldier.
"Keep guard over him in one of the inner tents. We will keep him as a prisoner for now." Ardashir had been merciful to the treacherous orator. He hoped that this act of mercy would endear all the men to him even more.
"Now, let us stay here and rest for a night! We must turn back and march east tomorrow, and make for the next closest Arab-controlled towns. We will liberate the east, and when our forces are swelled with the people of those regions, then we will be able to confront the armies that will inevitably arrive from the west to crush us! If we turn west now, we will be destroyed, although I reckon it'd be a close thing indeed!" A couple of the men heartily laughed at this. "Anyway, rest up, all of you! We have a duty to Eranshahr, and heavy eyelids ere dawn will do us no good!" Ardashir advised.
The men cavorted perhaps for longer than was fit, that night. The circumstances, dire though they were, felt quite the opposite to the men. Most of them drunk within the hour, they eventually retired to the sleeping quarters of the camp, with the mobile camp of the newcomers from the east added onto it. The whole army went down to rest. Or at least, most of the army did. Four soldiers had been tasked with keeping guard over Ormizd. They stood watch for several hours over his unmoving body.
_______________
Ormizd groaned at not moving for several hours. Alas, it was essential to his plan for him to do this. He looked around, seeing that the moon had now risen fully in the sky. Three of the soldiers around him had fallen asleep, very drunk. There was only one left, standing with his back to him, gazing out at the moon. This was Ormizd's chance! Ormizd quietly slid a blanket towards him. The soldier turned around behind him to see what the noise had been, but all he saw was Ormizd still lying there, seemingly asleep. It was no harm if the prisoner wanted a blanket, he figured. The soldier then slowly turned his head back outwards, distracted by the distant sound of some people in Aspahan. Ormizd next reached for the dagger at the belt of one of the drunk guards. It stuck a bit, but he manage to pry it loose. Making sure that the conscious soldier was looking the other way, he rose slowly with the blanket and dagger. Suddenly, he jumped at the guard, covering his mouth with the blanket before he could react, and running him through with the dagger. The guard crumpled to the ground, his screams for help completely muffled by the blanket. Ormizd quietly walked through the camp, his sound very nearly nonexistent over the snoring of the drunk soldiers. He left the camp, running towards the west.
The sun rose over the camp, and the soldiers awoke to the smell of blood thick in the air. There was a general panic in the camp, before the body was found.
One of Ormizd's guards had been run through with a dagger, and Ormizd was nowhere to be seen. Ardashir made his way over to the tent, looking groggy.
"Ormizd has escaped then. Very well. We must still march east. The loss of one of our own to that foul traitor is indeed regrettable. No doubt he intends to betray his people, faith, and Shahanshah to the Arabs! He will in time get the punishment deserved by such scum as he. Now we will bury our fallen comrade with the honor of a true hero of Eranshahr, and then we march east!" Ardashir ordered.
The men all mumured their assent, as the three guards still left alive looked pale and shaken. They held their faces in contortions of misery and grief, ashamed of their inebriation when their fellow soldier was in danger. They set him off to be prepared to be placed atop the dakhma (2) in Aspahan.
_______________
The city was little more than a small collection of huts. However, it was rapidly growing into an urban metropolis. Medina had exploded in population in a very short time. It was laden now with the great riches of the old Sassanid Empire, as well as many of the Roman. In the most dignified of the houses in the city, a richly dressed man sat upon a throne. A messenger scrambled inside, panting and coughing.
"My Caliph! There is news of a revolt in the east. Zoroastrians are stirring up rebellion again!" Wailed the messenger.
The great Caliph Uthman, ruler of the greatest empire of the world, sat, pondering this.
"This is no matter! Our armies will crush this rebellion. There are several armies already in the east. The peasants will be no match for them." The Caliph spoke calmly. He had not expected this. The last Shahanshah of those heretics had died four years previous! How could there now be a revolt?
A second messenger ran in, gasping and terrified.
"Caliph... there's... a... new... Shah in... east... our army... completely destroyed," the messenger shrieked, before falling dead.
Uthman grimaced. The east was resisting the righteousness of the Prophet like no other of the conquered lands! It had to be that heresy of fire... Uthman resolved to stamp it out.
"Alert my generals of this," he gestured to the other messenger. "The eastern lands must be pacified and put back under our control. The rebels probably expect us to immediately race after them... do not do this. Let them grow more and swell their ranks. Only then will a well-rested and grand army crush the infidels once and for all! Recall the generals in the west: there is no time to conquer empty desert when the riches of the east lie at risk!" Uthman spoke.
1)- Western Turkic Khaganate. The remnants of the earlier Gokturk Khaganate. Collapsed in OTL 659 AD.
2)- Tower of Silence. Place where the dead are prepared and left in Zoroastrian tradition.
Sorry for the delay in posting! I hope it was worth the wait.
Last edited:
vi will come out as scheduled today. I cannot guarentee any update tomorrow, however.
Eventually I won't be able to keep up this one update a day thing... I actually get back to being busy soon
In any case, expect an even longer vi.
Eventually I won't be able to keep up this one update a day thing... I actually get back to being busy soon
In any case, expect an even longer vi.
Pretty good but:
I'm fairly sure that Zoroastrians don't bury their dead. I believe they leave them on top of towers.
I'm fairly sure that Zoroastrians don't bury their dead. I believe they leave them on top of towers.
Whoops. I'll fix that. Thanks for pointing this out!
Is that a Zoroastrian rite in general, or just a Parsi tradition?
Like the update but this bit is confusing over who is "him":
Or himself was merciful to Ormizd?
If the latter then better to say "Ardashir was merciful to Ormizd; he was hoping that this act of mercy would endear (all) the men to him even more."
Do you mean the Real Ardashir had been merciful to him the Fake One?
Or himself was merciful to Ormizd?
If the latter then better to say "Ardashir was merciful to Ormizd; he was hoping that this act of mercy would endear (all) the men to him even more."
Hmm. I'll fix this too.
And just for continuity purposes, the real Ardashir died per OTL many years before the actual POD: the speech of Orzmid at Aspahan.
vi will come out as scheduled today. I cannot guarentee any update tomorrow, however.
Eventually I won't be able to keep up this one update a day thing... I actually get back to being busy soon
In any case, expect an even longer vi.
Well...
Oops.
I wrote two sentences all of yesterday.
It's coming soon.
the flame reawoken
vi
It was Shab-e-Yalda (1). The Ardashirid army had stopped in the middle of the desert, east of Bardasir. They had marched seemingly forever, but they would not rest on this night. This longest night of the year was different from the others. The evil spirits would assail them throughout the night lest they slept. The groaning and aching men, tired and haggard after marching so far strained under this task, but each man had another to keep him up. It was on this night that the armies of different lands became one. As they had to talk to stay awake all night, they socialized. Men from opposite ends of the nascent Persian lands grew to trust each other as never before. They were now united under Ardashir and the Simurgh, for Eranshahr, and by hardship. One of the better-travelled men shared a story about distant lands.
"You see, many nations actuallly have a winter holiday around this time," he said, as many of the men looked at him shocked.
"The common theme between all of them, that they almost get right compared to ours, is the idea of rebirth in the dark and cold of winter. That even in the darkest and grimmest time of year, one can light a flame and bring back hope." He mumured.
The soldiers gathered around him were now pondering this. Their quest to relight the fire temples and break the occupation of Eranshahr: was that not like this? Did this holiday not perfectly exemplify their righteous struggle against the Arabs? This lit the men up with a new glee, as the story spread through the camp. Within an hour, Ardashir summoned the soldier who had told the tale to him.
"What is your name?"
"My name is Farshid, Shahanshah." He spoke.
"Farshid, you have brought great joy to the men on this holy night, amidst the grimmest of circumstances. What you wrought by your story may very well be the spark that saves our homeland. I, and all of Eranshahr are in your debt for this account of how things are in distant lands. I know not exactly what you said, or even if you said much at all, but it did the trick nonetheless. Thank you." Ardashir said.
"Shahanshah, I barely said anything. It was the men who leapt to conclusions about the meaning of what I said, when I was actually just making a comment upon this holiday." Farshid winced.
Ardashir shrugged with a smile. Much like the holiday, it mattered less the substance of the thing so much as the spirit of it. The spirit of the age had turned against the Arabs on that night. It now lay inside the hearts and minds of the last free Persian army in the world.
The dawn finally came. The even wearier men lied down to rest in some cases, but it was not to be.
"Get up!" Roared Ardashir. "We must keep marching! An Arab army may be marching here during the day, and they would slaughter us in our sleep! We must march onward. No one said that freeing Eranshahr would be easy, or comfy, or even glorious. It is simply doing what must be done. For the survival of our army, we must continue marching another day." Ardashir exulted. Some men had to be dragged off the ground and hit about the head, as they were nearly unconscious from exhaustion. The weary and bedraggled army marched further east. They were headed to perhaps their greatest battle yet. Ardashir's grand plan of seizing control of the east hinged on one thing: the Citadel of Bam. (2) The citadel was one of the greatest defensive structures in the world. It had 38 great watch towers, 4 entrance gates, a moat, and a massive double fortification wall taller than three tall men. It was the largest adobe structure in the world, to the knowledge of any of the soldiers. The plan was to effect the capture of the citadel into Persian hands. With this, the Arab position in the hostile land could fall apart. The men did not yet realize their destination: even for all their enthusiasm, if they had known, many might have fled at the idea. Bam was still a good ways away: and now there was a problem.
An Arab army had caught sight of them.
The chase that ensued was nothing short of amazing. The desperately tired men ran as fast as they could under not just the weight of their equipment but also their sleep deprivation. Ardashir's army looked doomed for certain. The Arab army behind them was moving fast enough that they would catch them by Bam. Ardashir would have to find somewhere for his army to hide. Fortunately, there was just such a place to the west of Bam. Rayen Castle (3) had never actually fallen to the Arabs, to Ardashir's knowledge. It had the fortifications to withstand an Arab siege, as it had under Yazdegerd, provided the Persians could reach it. The day wore long as the headlong race towards Rayen continued. The first soldiers to see the fortress were confused.
"Shahanshah, what is this?" Many seemed to ask.
Ardashir replied. "This is our salvation. We will hide here and sleep, and when the Arabs reach here by morning, we will destroy them with whatever remains of the defensive capabilities of the fortress."
Many looked confused or puzzled, but with the Arab army fast approaching, they had no choice but to take his word for it.
The old fortress was left open. It seemed that the last Persian defenders simply left at some point, and the Arabs had not yet bothered to capture it now that it was defenseless. The Persians raced inside the great doors, and then shut them against the outside world. Many of them collapsed on the spot, finally ready to rest. Ardashir and a few remaining conscious men took to the task of searching the fortress to find its defensive capabilites. It was well stocked with ammunition, boiling projectiles, arrows, crossbows, and food. The army had desperately needed this. They would now be able to possibly hold the fort against the encroaching army. At last, near sunset, Ardashir and the last of the men rested.
The roars of the army trying to break open the gates startled them awake.
Climbing to the ramparts, the men saw a massive Arab army stretched out before them, already actively besieging the fortress, which looked fine despite their efforts. The men quickly got to their positions, rested from the arduous journey of the previous day. They rained down arrows, stones, and boiling liquids upon the invaders, killing many of them. The Arabs' great battering ram pounded away at the gates, and it held for a long time. However, the Persians could see the gate giving way underneath the strain. They rushed to first back it up with any materials availiable, and then surrounded the sides of the gate, so as to trap any incoming Arabs.
With a sound like thunder, the gate was rent open, flying backwards from the force of the impact, cracking against a tower in the middle of the fortress. Arabs poured through... only to run straight into the Persian swords. The Arabs were swiftly cut down as the first wave of their attack had almost completely been killed. The second wave began to push the Persians back. Resolute, and realizing that their failure would doom the land, the Persians fought with a renewed vigor, breaking through the Arab lines. The rest of the Arab army was ingnonimously routed and fled back west. This victory had come at a terrible cost. Close to a third of Ardashir's men had died. They would now struggle to take a fortress as great as Bam. They had no choice, however. Whatever the great store of supplies they had captured from Rayen, they had little more to be thankful for than their survival. It had been a very close thing, and may have doomed any chance they had of capturing Bam. Ardashir looked on in horror as he saw the dwindled number of men following him east, demoralized in their pyrrhic victory.
_______________
The loss of so many ships even still held strong in the mind of the Emperor. Constantine had nearly died himself in that fateful attack against the Arabs. But now, he heard news of something that may yet stem the Arab tide. There was an uprising in the old Sassanid lands. This might provide the opportunity he so desperately needed. He had been in fear of an Arab attack on Constantinople for some time now, and at the very least, this seemed like it would distract them. Once he had brought the barbarians of the Balkans to heel, he would march into the rightful Roman lands and retake the Holy City. Together- these Persian rebels and his imperial army: they could crush this menace. In the days of their predascessors, such plans had been laid down, but had never fully come to fruition. Constans would not allow that to happen again. Romans and Persians together would drive the invaders back into the sand.
Ardashir III, King of Kings,
I have received word of your exploits. I know not the full extent of them, but I know you have dealt serious defeats to the Arab armies in the east. I wish to assist you in this. I will do what I can to open a front against them in the west, and send you any supplies at the nearest possibility. Despite the emnity of our fathers, we share a common enemy, and for that, I bid you the strength of all of Rome with you.
Basileus Constantine IV, Emperor of the Roman Empire
The note was sent via a lone messenger. Constantine knew not when the message would reach them, but he hoped the flattery included in it would entice Ardashir to further action against the Arabs. All there was left for him to do was wait.
1)- Zoroastrian winter solstice celebration. Explained in the writing, to a degree.
2)- Today the Arg-e Bam, it was nearly completely destroyed in a 2003 earthquake. Now an UNESCO World Heritage Site.
3)- Arg-e Rayen today, it stands remarkably well-preserved to this day.
The closest I'll ever have to a holiday update
(Additionally edited on March 29, 2018 as a retcon of Constantine's name)
vi
It was Shab-e-Yalda (1). The Ardashirid army had stopped in the middle of the desert, east of Bardasir. They had marched seemingly forever, but they would not rest on this night. This longest night of the year was different from the others. The evil spirits would assail them throughout the night lest they slept. The groaning and aching men, tired and haggard after marching so far strained under this task, but each man had another to keep him up. It was on this night that the armies of different lands became one. As they had to talk to stay awake all night, they socialized. Men from opposite ends of the nascent Persian lands grew to trust each other as never before. They were now united under Ardashir and the Simurgh, for Eranshahr, and by hardship. One of the better-travelled men shared a story about distant lands.
"You see, many nations actuallly have a winter holiday around this time," he said, as many of the men looked at him shocked.
"The common theme between all of them, that they almost get right compared to ours, is the idea of rebirth in the dark and cold of winter. That even in the darkest and grimmest time of year, one can light a flame and bring back hope." He mumured.
The soldiers gathered around him were now pondering this. Their quest to relight the fire temples and break the occupation of Eranshahr: was that not like this? Did this holiday not perfectly exemplify their righteous struggle against the Arabs? This lit the men up with a new glee, as the story spread through the camp. Within an hour, Ardashir summoned the soldier who had told the tale to him.
"What is your name?"
"My name is Farshid, Shahanshah." He spoke.
"Farshid, you have brought great joy to the men on this holy night, amidst the grimmest of circumstances. What you wrought by your story may very well be the spark that saves our homeland. I, and all of Eranshahr are in your debt for this account of how things are in distant lands. I know not exactly what you said, or even if you said much at all, but it did the trick nonetheless. Thank you." Ardashir said.
"Shahanshah, I barely said anything. It was the men who leapt to conclusions about the meaning of what I said, when I was actually just making a comment upon this holiday." Farshid winced.
Ardashir shrugged with a smile. Much like the holiday, it mattered less the substance of the thing so much as the spirit of it. The spirit of the age had turned against the Arabs on that night. It now lay inside the hearts and minds of the last free Persian army in the world.
The dawn finally came. The even wearier men lied down to rest in some cases, but it was not to be.
"Get up!" Roared Ardashir. "We must keep marching! An Arab army may be marching here during the day, and they would slaughter us in our sleep! We must march onward. No one said that freeing Eranshahr would be easy, or comfy, or even glorious. It is simply doing what must be done. For the survival of our army, we must continue marching another day." Ardashir exulted. Some men had to be dragged off the ground and hit about the head, as they were nearly unconscious from exhaustion. The weary and bedraggled army marched further east. They were headed to perhaps their greatest battle yet. Ardashir's grand plan of seizing control of the east hinged on one thing: the Citadel of Bam. (2) The citadel was one of the greatest defensive structures in the world. It had 38 great watch towers, 4 entrance gates, a moat, and a massive double fortification wall taller than three tall men. It was the largest adobe structure in the world, to the knowledge of any of the soldiers. The plan was to effect the capture of the citadel into Persian hands. With this, the Arab position in the hostile land could fall apart. The men did not yet realize their destination: even for all their enthusiasm, if they had known, many might have fled at the idea. Bam was still a good ways away: and now there was a problem.
An Arab army had caught sight of them.
The chase that ensued was nothing short of amazing. The desperately tired men ran as fast as they could under not just the weight of their equipment but also their sleep deprivation. Ardashir's army looked doomed for certain. The Arab army behind them was moving fast enough that they would catch them by Bam. Ardashir would have to find somewhere for his army to hide. Fortunately, there was just such a place to the west of Bam. Rayen Castle (3) had never actually fallen to the Arabs, to Ardashir's knowledge. It had the fortifications to withstand an Arab siege, as it had under Yazdegerd, provided the Persians could reach it. The day wore long as the headlong race towards Rayen continued. The first soldiers to see the fortress were confused.
"Shahanshah, what is this?" Many seemed to ask.
Ardashir replied. "This is our salvation. We will hide here and sleep, and when the Arabs reach here by morning, we will destroy them with whatever remains of the defensive capabilities of the fortress."
Many looked confused or puzzled, but with the Arab army fast approaching, they had no choice but to take his word for it.
The old fortress was left open. It seemed that the last Persian defenders simply left at some point, and the Arabs had not yet bothered to capture it now that it was defenseless. The Persians raced inside the great doors, and then shut them against the outside world. Many of them collapsed on the spot, finally ready to rest. Ardashir and a few remaining conscious men took to the task of searching the fortress to find its defensive capabilites. It was well stocked with ammunition, boiling projectiles, arrows, crossbows, and food. The army had desperately needed this. They would now be able to possibly hold the fort against the encroaching army. At last, near sunset, Ardashir and the last of the men rested.
The roars of the army trying to break open the gates startled them awake.
Climbing to the ramparts, the men saw a massive Arab army stretched out before them, already actively besieging the fortress, which looked fine despite their efforts. The men quickly got to their positions, rested from the arduous journey of the previous day. They rained down arrows, stones, and boiling liquids upon the invaders, killing many of them. The Arabs' great battering ram pounded away at the gates, and it held for a long time. However, the Persians could see the gate giving way underneath the strain. They rushed to first back it up with any materials availiable, and then surrounded the sides of the gate, so as to trap any incoming Arabs.
With a sound like thunder, the gate was rent open, flying backwards from the force of the impact, cracking against a tower in the middle of the fortress. Arabs poured through... only to run straight into the Persian swords. The Arabs were swiftly cut down as the first wave of their attack had almost completely been killed. The second wave began to push the Persians back. Resolute, and realizing that their failure would doom the land, the Persians fought with a renewed vigor, breaking through the Arab lines. The rest of the Arab army was ingnonimously routed and fled back west. This victory had come at a terrible cost. Close to a third of Ardashir's men had died. They would now struggle to take a fortress as great as Bam. They had no choice, however. Whatever the great store of supplies they had captured from Rayen, they had little more to be thankful for than their survival. It had been a very close thing, and may have doomed any chance they had of capturing Bam. Ardashir looked on in horror as he saw the dwindled number of men following him east, demoralized in their pyrrhic victory.
_______________
The loss of so many ships even still held strong in the mind of the Emperor. Constantine had nearly died himself in that fateful attack against the Arabs. But now, he heard news of something that may yet stem the Arab tide. There was an uprising in the old Sassanid lands. This might provide the opportunity he so desperately needed. He had been in fear of an Arab attack on Constantinople for some time now, and at the very least, this seemed like it would distract them. Once he had brought the barbarians of the Balkans to heel, he would march into the rightful Roman lands and retake the Holy City. Together- these Persian rebels and his imperial army: they could crush this menace. In the days of their predascessors, such plans had been laid down, but had never fully come to fruition. Constans would not allow that to happen again. Romans and Persians together would drive the invaders back into the sand.
Ardashir III, King of Kings,
I have received word of your exploits. I know not the full extent of them, but I know you have dealt serious defeats to the Arab armies in the east. I wish to assist you in this. I will do what I can to open a front against them in the west, and send you any supplies at the nearest possibility. Despite the emnity of our fathers, we share a common enemy, and for that, I bid you the strength of all of Rome with you.
Basileus Constantine IV, Emperor of the Roman Empire
The note was sent via a lone messenger. Constantine knew not when the message would reach them, but he hoped the flattery included in it would entice Ardashir to further action against the Arabs. All there was left for him to do was wait.
1)- Zoroastrian winter solstice celebration. Explained in the writing, to a degree.
2)- Today the Arg-e Bam, it was nearly completely destroyed in a 2003 earthquake. Now an UNESCO World Heritage Site.
3)- Arg-e Rayen today, it stands remarkably well-preserved to this day.
The closest I'll ever have to a holiday update
(Additionally edited on March 29, 2018 as a retcon of Constantine's name)
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