Subject: Arslaan fan-fic
From: Roy Rim
Date: 9/30/1995, 2:29 PM
To: fanfic@andrew.cais.com


Thanx to K-chan, the wolves, Leon Chen (finally back!!), the guys at UK, 
Nessie, Missing, and everyone else.


            "You're well avenged on your rival, Rufus.  Even as he
                 shares the pleasures of your bed,
            he also shares, wonderfully enough, all your problems as
                 well.
            Viz.: The goat in your armpit that charges out with nostril-
                 flattening force,
            and the gout that makes you limp for woe.
            As often as they fuck, vengeance is yours.
            She suffers from his stench, and the gout makes him scream."

                                            -Rivals for Lesbia; Catullus

Two Friends Part One

- A fan-fic based on Arslaan War Chronicles (The Heroic Legend of Arislan)

                 King Andragoras gritted his teeth and nearly reached
            for his sword.  The flamboyant young man had interrupted
            again.  "But, Dammit!!"  Andragoras thought to himself,
            "he's right!!"
                 "By leading them into the cliffs, we can soon pin them
            down with a deadly storm of arrows and then finish them off
            by a mighty charge of our glorious horsemen, who should have
            no problem sending those poor souls to a fiery hell!!"
            Narsus finished with a giant swoop of his hand, nearly
            coming close to sweeping the map off the desk.
                 Andragoras looked around the table to find his generals
            all nodding their heads, some just beginning to understand.
            Andragoras couldn't understand, but then again he has always
            been a man of action, not thought.
                 Kharlan nodded his head as he said, "That just might
            work, young man.  Your Highness, I approve of this boy's
            plan."
                 "So do I, Highness."  Vaphreze, Andragoras' most
            trusted commander even agreed to the insolent whelp's plan.
                 Andragoras has placed his life in Vaphreze's hands many
            times, together they have overcome what could not be, and
            even though the hatred he felt for this beautiful child
            nearly drove his wits away, that trust still remained.
            "Okay, but boy, we're placing the lives of the Palsian army
            on this plan of yours.  Pray that it works."
                 "But your Highness," Narsus smiled that smile that
            Andragoras was sure that had managed to get him into his
            royal tent, "I'm an atheist."
                 "What!!"  Kharlan whipped out his sword before
            Andragoras could.  "How dare you speak to the King that
            way!!"
                 Narsus had the most perfectly devilish innocent face on
            as he said, "Sorry!!  I am not use to speaking to such
            royalty.  I will go now," and before anyone could react,
            Narsus quickly danced his way out.
                 Andragoras growled and was about to command his men to
            chase after him but was checked by Vaphreze who said, "Your
            Highness!!  Despite his flamboyancy the boy is correct!!
            This is our best chance, we must start putting this plan in
            effect."
                 "Grrrrrr...all right."  Andragoras turned around and
            walked towards the table as his men joined around him.

                 Vaphreze held in a yawn as he watched the men from his
            infantry pack up.  It's already been over a year since
            Andragoras was given the crown when his brother died.
            Unable to bear the ugly rumors Andragoras decided on a vast
            campaign to further the borders of Palse along the eastern
            side.  It's only been eight months and already Vaphreze was
            wishing they were back in the comfort of the Ekubatana
            castle.  "I'm getting too old," he said to himself.
                 "Uncle!!"
                 "Lad!!  Have you prepared your horse yet!!"
                 "Of course, uncle!!"  Daryoon gave his uncle one of his
            rare smiles.
                 Vaphreze patted his nephew on the back.  It was
            Daryoon's first campaign and he was doing well.  Already the
            other men respected him and Vaphreze could tell that in
            another five years Daryoon would be a general.  "Ah,
            Daryoon, you put energy into these old bones.  You give me
            hope!  Has it already been ten years since the death of my
            only son?"  Vaphreze gave a sigh.  It was different back
            then.  He and Andragoras were an unbeatable pair.  But
            now...now Andragoras was different.  Oh, their friendship
            hasn't suffered, instead it has grown stronger, but the
            darkness beneath Andragoras' eyes, his already short temper
            growing shorter and shorter.  Andragoras was there when
            Varen died, Vaphreze felt the strong muscles in Daryoon's
            back, and now his friend, no, King would need him.
            "Daryoon, have you seen that young man running around,
            wearing all those oranges and reds?"
                 "Do you mean the one dressed like a girl?"  Daryoon
            said this with his usual somber voice.
                 Vaphreze laughed, then laughed harder at Daryoon's
            perplexed features.  "Boy!!  You don't even know you have
            some wit!!"  Vaphreze laughed again.  "Yes, that's him.
            Daryoon, who could have imagined he'd be a military genius."
            once more Vaphreze had to laugh at the look of downright
            indignation on Daryoon's face.
                 "Uncle, please, stop making fun of me.  I can't believe
            in such..."
                 "But Daryoon, my boy, its true!"  They watched as the
            man lithely ran over to their right and talked with some of
            the soldiers there, then laughed and ran back to the left.
            "I have talked with the other soldiers and he is well liked.
            Perhaps he reminds them of the flirtatious women that they
            have left behind.  But all that aside, he seems fiercely
            loyal to Palse, looking at his plans.  However, no one seems
            to know where he came from."
                 "Is it true?"  Daryoon had been watching the tall
            rather thin man with his calm eyes.
                 "Of what?"
                 "That he is a military genius."
                 "Possibly the best in over a century."
                 "Perhaps I should make his acquaintance later," said
            Daryoon as he walked with his uncle down the camp, never
            taking his eyes off the young man until he could see him no
            more.

                 Soon.  In one hour they would ride.  In one hour his
            thoughts would finally be free of the torments he seemed to
            suffer nearly non-stop.  Andragoras gripped his sword.  The
            rumors were so vicious, so vile, yet so many, sometimes he
            even began to believe in them.  But today was especially
            hard.  That boy with the pretty face.  He was even prettier
            than his dead brother and twice as smart.  That tone.  Just
            like the way his brother spoke, whom he loved so much, used
            to speak to him.  It was of knowing superiority.  And he
            hated it.  Hated it so much as to have unknowingly crushed
            the iron mug he had held earlier.  But the huge army that
            has chased and pushed them so far was his main
            responsibility.  His responsibility to win this war and
            campaign.  To gain at least several hundred acres of land
            for his country.  If he couldn't be a king at his capital,
            then he'd be a king on the field of war.  And for that, for
            that he would take the insolent tone of anyone.  Even that
            of a pretty young boy who belonged in the protective arms of
            his mother.
                 His mind drifted back to his wife.  How he hated
            leaving her, but how he needed the mindlessness of battle.
            When this was over, all rumors would quiet, YES, they would,
            and he can go back to the arms of his wife and hold their
            son together.
                 They must, Andragoras shivered.  They must.

                 Daryoon separated from his uncle and walked intently
            back towards his tent, which he shared with four other men.
            The man dressed in orange ran by him and Daryoon gave a
            thought to calling out his name, when he remembered that he
            had not bothered asking his uncle for the man's name.  This
            disturbed him.  He always asked the names of people his
            uncle thought important.  "And how forgetful of uncle to not
            tell me," said Daryoon to himself.  "I wonder," he said to
            himself for the hundredth time, "is it really true?  Can
            such a man, dressed so frivolously, have such a powerful
            mind in that paraded head?  How much of today's strategy did
            he plan?  All of it?"  This Daryoon discarded at once.  No
            man could devise such a strategy alone in his head.
                 Daryoon walked some more, no longer recognizing where
            he was walking, he was in deep thought.  "How strange to
            dress so, yet he manages to befriend the other soldiers.
            Uncle was jesting but I have heard the other's remark about
            him and how "so and so" would do "this and that" to him.
            Would he change his dress were he to know the remarks they
            make after he leaves?  Or maybe he knows already and dresses
            that way because of it.  I must admit, he does have an
            elegant face, one that does not belong on such a field."
                 Daryoon stopped.  There was a large puddle in front of
            him.  It was muddy, yet it still reflected his young face at
            him.  He peered at his reflection and gripped his own chin.
            He had once been ridiculed for his own kind features that
            seemed to attract the attention of both beautiful women and
            their jealous men.  More than one man had made the dangerous
            mistake of mistaking Daryoon's face for the strength of his
            arms and sword.  Eventually the stories spread of Daryoon's
            conquests and also his apparent distaste in women which had
            spread its own vicious rumors.
                 He was wearing the armor of a noble born soldier.  Not
            the plain golden armor of a foot soldier, but the gray and
            white only given to those of high rank.  Someday those
            colors would be black.  There was no question in Daryoon's
            mind that he would be general someday, not because he was
            vain or ambitious but because he was raised to believe that
            one day it would happen.
                 "Oy, lad.  You look familiar."  Daryoon turned around
            in surprise as someone placed a hand upon his shoulder.
                 "Lord Quishward!"
                 "Yes, now I remember.  You're related to Vaphreze,
            aren't you?"  Lord Quishward had come along on this campaign
            leaving Lord Bachman to run Peshawal.
                 "Yes.  I had the honor of being introduced at Peshawal,
            sir.  I am Daryoon, Vaphreze's nephew."
                 "Ah.  You got the family eyes," Daryoon remembered some
            rumor way back about Quishward and his uncle's much younger
            sister.  "But look around you boy!!  In thirty more minutes
            we'll be sending those heathens on a goose hunt and here you
            are wandering around out of your division."
                 "What!?"  Daryoon looked around himself.
                 "I see a soldier amongst my men whom I don't recognize
            and expect to see some lost young foolish soldier, and what
            do I get?  Some lost young foolish soldier.  HA! Even
            worse!!  The nephew of Vaphreze!!"  Quishward laughed as
            Daryoon blushed.  "Now, I'm in a hurry.  On our way back, I
            have asked your uncle, to tell the King to stop by Peshawal
            again for a big celebration!  I'd also like you to meet my
            daughter, she's a lovely one.  But now I have to take care
            of matters.  OY!!  Hurry up men!!  We need to be ready to
            give those fools a beating they won't soon forget!!"
                 "But I'm not interes..."  too late, the Lord had
            hurried on.  "But how did I end up here?"  Daryoon turned
            around to head towards his tent.  It was totally unlike him
            to wander like that.  Firming his mind, he walked straight
            back.  But halfway there, he stopped once again.  To his
            right, in the middle of smiling soldiers, was that man
            again.  This time, however, he had added an earing to his
            collection of outlandish clothing.  Daryoon drew nearer.
                 "So you just did that, did you?"
                 "Looks pretty, no?"  The young man fingered the jewel
            attached to his ear.
                 "Pretty, just like a girl!!"  The rest of the soldiers
            laughed as the man poured out some wine.
                 Daryoon thought about drawing nearer and introducing
            himself, but something stopped him.
                 "Men.  A toast to future conquest!!"  The pretty man
            raised his glass above his head and took a deep drink as did
            the other men too.
                 "And another earing to every conquest!!"  The men
            laughed again as the pretty man took another deep swallow.
                 "And what will you do, Narsus, when you run out of ears
            to put them on?"  More laughter.
                 "So Narsus is his name," thought Daryoon.
                 "Well, then, I'll make gifts of my old ones to one of
            many women who love me!"  The men laughed and drank again.
                 Daryoon was disappointed and perplexed.  He was
            disappointed cause he had been hoping that this strange man
            would be different than the others.  He was different, but
            Daryoon was hoping in another way.  For such a man of odd
            taste to be out in the battlefield could be for only one
            reason.  Love.  Love of a country.  A love that Daryoon felt
            in his heart every day.  But Daryoon was perplexed.  He
            couldn't understand why he should even care what this man
            felt or thought.
                 He felt a strange tingle, as if an opponent was
            readying a strike against him, and he looked up again toward
            the group and found himself staring into the deep brown eyes
            of Narsus.
                 They stared for a couple of seconds and then realized
            that the group around Narsus had grown quiet.
                 "Oops!!  I have been lax, it must be the wine.  I too
            must prepare to leave!!  Whoever catches it can keep it!"
            At that Narsus threw the wine bottle high in the air and
            neatly slipped away.
                 Daryoon watched the man elegantly walk away towards the
            forest.  "How odd," thought Daryoon.  "Is his tent away from
            the army's?"
                 "Got it!!"  The soldier yelled happily and took a giant
            swig, then filled the mugs of his companions.
                 Without even realizing it, Daryoon followed the steps
            of the brightly colored man.

                 Narsus stepped into the woods and took a deep breathe.
            He hated this facade he must put up in front of others but
            it was necessary if he ever was going to get where he
            needed.  Plus the smell of rusting armor and sweat mixed
            with dirt and horses did none to please his delicate nose.
            It almost made him want to retch, but just the thought of it
            made him cringe in fear of doing something so vile as
            coughing up the remains of once pleasant food.
                 "Who was that nobleman," thought Narsus heading toward
            his tent.  "He seemed to want something, I've seen him with
            Vaphreze a couple of times."  Narsus quickly placed the
            man's image in a section of his head he kept for important
            people he should meet then quickly strode toward his tent,
            glancing at the hidden traps he had made, then was about to
            enter when he heard leaves rustling, then heard a thud and a
            yell of surprise.
                 He walked back a couple of feet and looked up.
            Swinging on the rope was the same man he had noticed before.
            Narsus smiled.  "He looks angry," he thought.

                 Daryoon couldn't believe it!!  He was beside himself in
            anger.  "What's wrong with me!!  Falling for such an
            obvious trap!!"  It didn't do his temper much good to see
            the traplayer below him smiling.  "Get me down!!"  Daryoon
            yelled.
                 "Now why should I do that," answered the brightly
            clothed man.
                 Daryoon was furious!!  "Why the hell did I come here!!"
            he thought to himself then repeated, "Just get me down!!"
                 The man disappeared then Daryoon felt himself falling.
            He quickly flipped and landed on his legs.
                 Narsus hadn't expected that.  Fearing the man's anger
            he quickly and skillfully kicked out his leg's from beneath
            him.  Daryoon fell down, surprised.
                 Daryoon could feel the foot pressed firmly against his
            back and before he could get out, felt his arms being tied
            fast.  He decided to save his dignity as much as he could
            and stopped squirming.  "What are you doing," he asked in a
            calm voice.
                 "Tying you up, friend."
                 "Why do call me friend if you are tying me up?"
                 "Well now," said Narsus, finished he stood in front of
            Daryoon's laying body, "you've been naughty so I have to
            keep you from moving."  Narsus noticed that other than the
            small amount of leaves and dirt on the man's cloak, his
            armor was shining clean.  He smelled nice too a sharp
            contrast to the other soldiers.  "What are you doing
            snooping around my camp?"
                 Daryoon didn't say anything and looked away sullenly.
                 Narsus walked behind Daryoon and pulled at his arms.
            "Up you go."
                 Daryoon held his weight down.
                 "Up!"
                 Daryoon kicked back and felt his foot connect with
            something.  He scrambled to his feet and just began to run
            when he felt someone crash into his back.  They rolled along
            the ground.  He felt a fist connect with his face, the man
            hit hard!!  He was on his back and he looked up.
                 The pretty man's face had been marred.  He had blood
            running down out of a muddied, bloodied nose and his eyes
            were slimmed and hard.  He was sitting on top of Daryoon's
            body and held out a fist and was about to smash it down when
            he stopped and stared.
                 Darrian could feel blood trickle down from his nose.
                 The two stared.
                 The man's face was in shock and Daryoon couldn't help
            but say, "So friend, are we even?"
                 Narsus punched him again.

                 The scouts were back and their enemies were near, it
            was time to move out.
                 "Daryoon!!  Daryoon!!  Damn it!!  Where are you!!"
            Vaphreze looked around his men.  "Okay," he told himself,
            "don't make a fuss.  He'll be along shortly.  Let's just get
            the men going."  He yelled out, "Let's march!!"
                 "HOY!!" the men yelled back and started their steeds.
                 He galloped to be next to his king and friend.  "Sire,
            when you signal the horn we'll be there."
                 Andragoras nodded.  No more words needed to be said.
            At last they would finally stop running, but one more small
            run to get those bastards off guard.

                 Narsus felt his nose gingerly.  It was broken.  He
            couldn't believe it!!  Never had any part of him ever been
            broken!!  Gritting his teeth, he grabbed his nose and pulled
            to straighten it.  He held in the scream that nearly
            escaped.  "No way am I letting him know I'm in pain."
                 Daryoon heard the grunt but couldn't tell why since he
            was in front.  He was sweating since he was carrying a large
            bag that contained a folded up tent and many utensils, on
            his back.  The horse Narsus was on seemed to whinny in
            laughter at the man who carried it's load.  Despite carrying
            the heavy load, Daryoon's anger had cooled and for some
            reason he was sorry that he had hurt the man behind him.
            "Sir, untie me.  I give you my word that I won't hurt you."
                 "You've done enough, thank you," said Narsus, nearly
            spitting at him.  He kept wanting to touch his nose and
            every time he did, it hurt.  He did it again.  Narsus took
            out his wine and took a drink.  He thought for a second then
            stopped his steed, Morning, and pulled on the rope attached
            to Daryoon's arms.  "Turn around," he ordered.
                 Daryoon turned around.
                 "Come closer."
                 Daryoon slowly walked closer.
                 "Open your mouth."
                 Daryoon did and was suprised as the man poured some
            good Salikin wine down his throat.  TOO much.  Daryoon
            choked and spat out the wine.
                 "Oh, I'm sorry," said Narsus forgetting his anger and
            pulled out some cloth from his saddle bags and began to wipe
            at Daryoon's chin, noticing the fine angles and firm mouth
            and full red lips that looked like it belonged on a woman.
            He couldn't help but also notice that despite his sweating,
            the man before him still smelled clean as the woods around
            him.  Then he touched his nose and felt a sharp pang and he
            pushed Daryoon away.
                 Daryoon felt his anger returning.  "This man dressed in
            a fool's cloth treats me like a child.  I must bide my time
            until I can get my arms free."  He noticed that the trees
            and grass were thinning out.  "Where are we headed?"
                 "You'll see," said Narsus.
                 All of the sudden, huge cliffs loomed in front of
            Daryoon.  They had reached the edge of the forest and were
            on top of a large hill which was dwarfed by the thin giants
            around it.  "This is..." started Daryoon.
                 "Yes.  I would like to see in fullness what my art will
            do."  Thunder could be heard, they looked toward their left
            toward the East.  The familiar golden line of the Palsian
            army rushed toward them and then past toward their West.
            They were followed by a huge army, most of its soldiers
            dressed in plain iron.
                 "So far so good," Daryoon thought he could hear some
            taughtness in the voice behind him.  They walked toward the
            edge of the hill toward the West some more.
                 It appeared as if the Palsian army had been trapped
            amongst the cliffs.  The giant army in iron crashed into the
            Palsian army with a tremendous clap as if lightning had
            struck the ground, hundreds of soldiers clad in metal
            connecting at the same time.  The soldiers in iron eagerly
            attacked their enemies, who were by far outnumbered.  Then
            the great horns blew and all over the cliff tops could be
            seen more of the golden armor of the Palsian army.  The
            archers pulled back their bows and let their arrows rain
            sharp death upon their opponents.
                 The Makrian army pulled back, its initial charge now
            empty of force.  Just then, from the East, could be heard
            more quakes of thousands of horses running.  The rest of the
            Palsian army had come to block the only retreat.
                 Narsus watched, the pain in his nose forgotten.  "Its
            working!!  Wonderful!!  Wonderful!!"
                 Once more a giant clap echoed around the field within
            the cliffs.  The Makrian army was trapped, harried at all
            sides and shot down from above.  The Makrian army was in a
            tough spot.  Then a high horn blew.
                 "What's that," said Narsus.
                 Across the large road, in the forest, hundreds of
            arrows shot out toward the back of the Palsian army blocking
            the retreat way.
                 "What in Grace's name..." Narsus couldn't believe it.
            "My plans!!  Ruined!!"
                 "That's my uncle's division," yelled Daryoon.  "UNTIE
            ME!!  MY UNCLE!!"
                 "Well, go then," said Narsus.
                 "The ropes!!"  Daryoon was about to go running down
            with his arms tied.
                 "are tied in a slip knot, you need but pull hard."
                 Daryoon hadn't even bothered fighting the ropes
            thinking that the man would make sure he couldn't escape.
            Normally Daryoon would have been upset, but at the moment he
            had other things to consider.  He broke the knot then caught
            his sword that the man had thrown at him and began to run
            down the hill, a mighty battle cry about to spill forth from
            his throat.  He stopped.
                 Narsus was surprised, then even more surprised as
            Daryoon ran back and jumped, knocking Narsus off his horse.
                 "Sorry, friend, but I must borrow your steed," Daryoon
            waved as he rode Morning down the hill, battle cry let
            loose.
                 Narsus leaned back on his arms, stunned, then slowly
            got up and watched as Daryoon thrashed into the forest.  He
            then realized something.  "He still has the backpack!!"
                 Several minutes passed and the arrows stopped.  Then
            Narsus heard some screams.  Then the screams stopped too.
            The noise from the main fighting got drowned out as he
            stared intently toward the forest.  Nothing.  No one came
            out.  Then the man he had had tied up emerged, still on
            Morning, still carrying the backpack, which had many arrows
            sticking out of it, holding his sword that was now covered
            in blood, as was his armor.
                 Daryoon stared up the road toward the main fighting and
            yelled a tremendous roar.  He got Morning into a gallop and
            crashed into the fray.

                 He had saved him.  The man he had all tied up before
            had just saved him and his plans.  If that strong man had
            not stopped the archers, his grand plans on becoming Chief
            Advisor would be dead and so would he.
                 "What is his name," thought Narsus in wonder.

                 Daryoon blocked desperately with his shield, angling it
            perfectly so that it only deflected, not stopping its
            enemies blows.  It took years and years of practice to
            achieve that.  It was the proper way to use a shield, making
            it last longer.  He slammed his sword upon a man's helm then
            reared the steed he was riding on its back legs and had it
            kick into the two men directly in front of it.  Daryoon
            blocked another blow then shoved his sword through the man's
            armor and belly, he quickly pulled it back out and sent it
            angling down into another's neck, nearly severing it.  The
            chaos around him was getting worse.  He gripped his sword
            tighter, the blood making the handle loose.  He wasn't sure
            if the blood that had matted his hair and was dripping into
            his face was his or other's.  His arm was getting tired but
            there were still a lot of enemies.  He swung again and again
            forgetting all about the man dressed in orange and red
            silks.  He hoped that the steed did not slip on the blood
            soaked mud underneath.
                 "MEN," he shouted, "TO ME, TO MEEEE!!"
                 The Palsian men, confused by the arrows shot into their
            backs, held onto that noble voice that to them seemed to be
            their savior, and quickly gathered around him.  The Makrian
            army that had nearly threatened to break through was quickly
            shoved back into the middle where they would be harried by
            more arrows.
                 The Palsian men, heartened, pushed the Makrian army
            further and further, making the circle tighter and thicker.
                 "Daryoon!!"  Daryoon looked down.  It was his uncle!!
                 "Uncle!!  You're safe!!"  Daryoon managed to yell out
            over the din of war and pulled his uncle off from the ground
            and onto the steed, placing his uncle behind himself.
                 Vaphraze, despite his blood covered face quickly
            scanned the circled Makrian army and yelled, "MEN!!
            PREPARE!!"  Vaphraze had been in campaigns for forty years.
            He knew a desperate attempt when he saw one.  Most of the
            Makrian army had bulged toward the cliffs away from them,
            leaving only a desperate thinned out line to hold the
            Palsian army that was blocking the East route.  He saw the
            bulge of men building and soon they would rush forward and
            try to break through.  "MEN!!  NET..."  Vaphreze began to
            cough, blood spraying out thickly.
                 Daryoon quickly scanned the battlefield too and
            immediately recognized what his uncle wanted.  "MEN!!  NET
            AND SPEAR FORMATION!!"  Daryoon dropped his wounded uncle at
            the edge of the battlefield and then pushed Morning to the
            front as the Palsian men formed the Net and Spear around
            him.  He set himself up in front, most of the men massed
            behind him, the rest spread out to the sides thinly.
                 The Makrian army's horn blew its retreat sequence and
            the mass of the army at the cliffs rushed forwards.  Daryoon
            gripped his sword and waited.  Despite the rain of arrows
            dropping Makrian soldiers left and right, there was still
            hundreds and hundreds of soldiers about to crash into them.
                 The Makrian army smashed into them, Daryoon locking
            swords with the general as other Makrian soldiers swept past
            him but were stopped by the Palsian army.  They were being
            pushed back.  The other soldier's that were lined along the
            sides rushed in to harry the sides of the Makrian army that
            continued to push forward.
                 "AARRRGGHH!!"  Daryoon blocked the huge Broadsword that
            nearly swept him off the steed.  Morning grunted and danced
            back and pushed forward adding strength to Daryoon's next
            blow.
                 The general of the Makrian army was built heavy and
            used a massive amount of armor and didn't use a shield
            prefering to use both arms to swing his huge sword.
                 Daryoon decided to use his lighter equipment to his
            advantage.  Instead of blocking the next giant blow Daryoon
            neatly ducked beneath it and then had the steed slightly
            jump in closer and Daryoon shoved his shoulder into the
            general's side.  As the towering man fell he exposed his
            unprotected ribs and Daryoon stabbed his sword cleanly in
            and then pulled it back out.
                 The Makrian army's thrust had weakened, its mass
            substantially thinned by the Palsian's harrassing its sides
            and like a spring released, the Makrian army's general down,
            the Palsians shot forward and knocked the Makrian's back
            into the middle.
                 It was the end for the Makrians.

                 Narsus was numbed.  He saw this vision repeated over
            and over again.  He, setting the plans, that noble man
            carrying them out.  He could see them defeating country
            after country.  He reached for his wine bottle but then
            remembered his wine bottle was in the saddle bag on Morning.
            Instead he placed his head in his hands.  "OUCH!!"

End part one.

                 Blahs:  I do believe this is the first fan-fic based on
            Arslaan and I wonder why, since it is by far one of the best
            animes out there.  I hope this fan-fic does it justice.
            Although this fan-fic is very yaoi in some ways, it will
            never go beyond the point I had written it too in this first
            part.  First, because I'm uncomfortable writing this much yaoi
            as it is and secondly, it would be inappropriate.
                "What!!"  some of the Split Personalities readers might 
            think.  Is Roy going wuss on us!?  Nah, as can be told by the
            coming (and I do mean coming) side stories for the SP fan-fic
            which is going to be finished (FINALLY) with the tournament.

            Anyway, E-mail comments to RR568@bard.edu.
            Today is Sept 30, 1995.