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http://img232.imageshack.us/img232/7...oriumv1mw2.png Contents Introduction Recent Articles Top News - Writing Competition 2011 Results Scriptorium News Scriptorium Article Reviews Closing Statements -bottom of page- Introduction Welcome to the Scriptorium's Editorial for March! This editorial will be getting a bit of a makeover over the next view issues, with this one being the first step forward into reshaping it into a better quality, and more finely detailed publication, brought to you exclusively by the Scriptorium's librarians. You can expect this, and future editorials, to have more information than past ones (though restricted based on just how much is going on here), while following a similar yet also revamped structure. We will keep you up to date on any Scriptorium events (writing competitions, new article submissions) as well as every other shred of information remotely related to the Scriptorium! Why, you may ask? Well...why not! Enjoy this read, and please comment if you have any questions for librarians, or have any suggestions to improve this editorial in the future. Recent Articles Below is a list of all articles added to the Scriptorium catalogs since the beginning of March 2011. Recently Added ArticlesMarch 2011 Norman Conquest: Continuity or Change? Added 06/3/11 Tips on Raiding Added 06/3/11 Significance of the Battle of Manzikert Added 06/3/11 RTW: Early Campaign Conquest Guide Added 06/3/11 How to create custom missions Added 27/3/11 How to create a custom unit card (icon and info pics) Added 27/3/11 Be a Modder: Doctoring of Medieval 2 units Added 27/3/11 Land of the Aryians: A Persian AAR Added 27/3/11 -Back to Top- Top News The Scriptorium Writing Competition for the start of 2011 introduced a Japan themed competition, in support of the then soon to be released Total War: Shogun 2. While not as hefty in number of submissions as previous competitions, the 2011 Competition saw some good quality submissions in each of its categories: Fiction, Short Fiction, and Poetry. Below are all of the submissions to this year's competition. Winners have their respective medal displayed next to the title. The Critic's Quill will also be writing reviews on the competition winners, so keep your eyes open for their next issue to see them! You may also find the competition entries in the Scriptorium main through Catalogue 7 here: http://www.twcenter.net/forums/showt...32#post9337532 Writing Competition Entries Short Fiction category submissions: Diary of a Samourai by Hero of the West Entry 1: Home is where my heart belongs.. I remember standing here, on this very same ridge. Years ago I was admiring the view one last time before I left to join the ranks of the Emperor. It was like nothing I had ever seen. The trees full of Cherry blossom growing all over the valley, the village children on the traininggrounds, learning the way of the Samourai. Back then the village was flourishing of activity. You could hear the sounds of the blacksmiths hammer hitting on the metal of a newly forged katana, or the cattle plowing the lands. Back in the day it seemed like the place to grow old with my son. Now the village lies in ruins, smoke still rises from the remains of what once was the towns shrine. A teardrop leaves my eye as i gasp upon the destruction of all that i loved. No man should have to see his village taken from him like this, not while he was still alive. As village elder it was both my task and my privilege to defend the village with my dying breath. The only way to repend for my deriliction of duty would be harakiri, death by my own hand. It is the right thing to do, the only way to restore my honer and please the spirits of my anchestors. But somehow, right now, none of this matters anymore. The people of my village, needlessly masacred by warlord Katsumoto deservered more from me. They deserved to be remembered, they deserved to be avanged.. Entry 2: Marching to war.. While riding through the village darkness took me. For me it became clear that my failure towards myy people could not be redeemed by any sacrifice. Seeing all those men, woman and children lieing dead on the ground broke the hearts and spirits of me and my men. I would soon have to adress them.. And so it was, on a sunny day in spring, that i commanded my fellow Samourai to march upon Katsumoto’s castle. It would mean a long and harsch yourney, crossing mountains, plains, rivers and forests while tormented by burning sun or heavy rainfall. But nothing would hold me back from avanging those innocent villagers back home. Right now my force only contained about fivehundred brave men, all willing to fight and die for the cause. Still these numbers are to few to take on the most feared warlord in his homeland. More Samourai would have to be gathered along the way. Many of the Samourai follow the way of Bushido and are the best swordmasters of Japan giving us a great advantage in close combat. But in order to win this battle the army would have to rely on other skills as well, such as the use of bows and Jiujitsu. Entry 3: Yourney to my destiny.. After 20 days and three villages I finally had a sufficient amount of Samourai. My son, second in command, even managed to hire a group of ninja who’s stealth and cunning fitted perfectly in my strategy. The men become more restless every day now that we are so close to our goal. Just yesterday we past the river Kwai into the lands of Katsumoto. Now it will be three days till we reach the castle of Katsumoto and one to prepare the assault. Every day i ask the spirits of my ancestors to give me the strength to lead the assault. In a few days, i will know my destiny. Entry 4: Preparing for war.. The day has come, the sun has risen, a beautifull day to fight. The man are nervous yet eager, making final preperations for the assault. Archers where already in place on the highgrounds near the castle and the main force waited just out of reach of enemy fire awaiting my command. But beforeI sound the assault I need to prepare myself. My armour is the biggest honor I have ever received. Past on from father to son for generations. It’s leather chestpiece slightly damaged by the killing blow which slew my father. He died in battle many years ago, if only I could die of such a noble death. My Katana, strapped to my side, never to leave me unless I am no more. May I slay many foes this day and shed the blood of Katsumoto. Now it is time to join the side of my kin, my brothers in arms, my friends. A horn sounds from the castle which caught my attention, it is time. There i stould, on a hilltop, ninehundred men awaiting the order to strike. A cloud covers the sun and casts a shade upon the lands. A sight which should not be soon forgotten by all who are here now. I can only imagine how Katsumoto feels, an army of Samourai, just outside his gates. It does not matter, soon he will feel nothing, only the sharpness of my blade. Entry 5: To who it may concern.. During the ages the people of Japan have forgotten about the ways of the Samourai. Warlords came and ruled the lands, defying the emperor in every move they made. They forgot what it is to serve a higher purpose, instead they serve their own interests. The day will come that Samourai all over Japan fight for their believes. On that day all who defied the emperor will tremble of fear, because they will be hunted by the best of warriors. Many wars have yet to come but one fact is certain, the spirit of the Samourai will never die as long as there is an emperor to serve. May these words be an inspiration for all who read my words. Now it is time for me to wage the first war of many, may our anchestors guide us to victory or a honourable death.. The Red Robed General by wowbanger Kim Sun-Sin used to be a humble farmer who knew nothing of the ways of war. The Japanese invasion had changed all that. Now he was a guerrilla warrior fighting for the liberation of Korea. Skilful with a bow and armed with a dead samurai's katana, Sun-Sin had already made a useful addition to Gwak Jaeu's righteous army fighting in the reeds at the union of the Nakdong and Nam rivers. Gwak Jaeu had raised the banner of resistance at a time when Korea was in crisis. In a matter of weeks the Japanese army had invaded, smashed the Korean army, captured the capital Seoul and forced the Royal family to flee northward towards Pyongyang. Fearing for his home and family Sun-Sin had been one of the first men to join with Jaeu after the regular forces abandoned the town of Uiryong. For the following few weeks Jaeu and his small band of fighters had waged a successful guerrilla campaign, ambushing scouting and foraging parties and launching lightning raids on the Japanese supply lines, Sun-Sin quickly gained the respect and admiration of the men though his feats of arms. Jaeu, always wearing his red cloak, dyed with the blood of maidens slaughtered by the Japanese, and riding on a white stallion, soon became known as a hero to the Koreans and as a thorn in the side of the Japanese. Now though, things were different. Instead of unsuspecting patrols or forging parties the Japanese had dispatched 5000 men of the 6th Division to take Uiryong and the surrounding countryside before advancing northwards. Knowing he stood no chance in the open field against the Japanese samurai and arquebusiers with his ragtag band of farmers and peasants, Jaeu took up a position behind the river Nam hiding his men amongst the reeds. Sun-Sin, in command of a half dozen archers, was positioned closest to the river with orders to report back with news of any Japanese movements. The Japanese arrived on the far bank late in the day. Not wanting to risk crossing the river in the dark they set up camp in a small village about half a mile from the river. As Sun-Sin continued to watch the Japanese on the far bank he spotted a number of Japanese soldiers down by the river bank that appeared to be measuring the depth of the river and marking the fordable points with stakes. Sending his quickest man to run back to Jaeu with the news while he and his men kept watch, Sun-Sin formulated a plan to foil the Japanese advance. Waiting until the dead of night when the Japanese had left the banks he and his men crept silently down to the river. They quickly pulled the stakes out of the soft mud and moved them 50 yards downstream where the water was much more deep and treacherous before returning to their hidden positions among the reeds. The Japanese forces attempted the ford the river just after dawn the next day hoping to continue their advance to Uiryong. However, as their forces came to the deepest parts of the river they ran into great trouble. Although the mounted samurai were able to cross with difficulty the infantry were not so lucky, many being washed away or drowned in the deep water. Seeing the chaos amongst the Japanese ranks Jaeu ordered his men to attack the disordered enemy. Sun-Sin and the other archers opened fire, using their long composite bows to launch arrow after arrow into the mass of men crossing the river. Soon the river ran red with the blood of the dead and dying men. Meanwhile Jaeu led the rest of the guerrillas in a charge against the soldiers who had reached the near bank, hoping to drive them back into the river. This attack caught the Japanese totally unawares and initially drove the enemy back. The Japanese general, seeing the disaster unfolding before him, commanded his arquebusiers to advance and fire across the river hoping to force the guerrilla forces to retreat in the face of their fire. Seeing this danger, Sun-Sin directed the archers’ fire towards the approaching gunners. The longer range and high fire rate of these arrows caused many causalities among the lightly armoured Japanese gunners. Indeed they had barely managed their first volley before the withering arrow fire caused the gunners to fall back toward the camp. Now running low on arrows Sun-Sin drew his katana from its sheath and charged at the head of the archers into the melee at the river bank where the Japanese samurai were slowly gaining the upper hand. Their heavy armour and superior skill at arms were beginning to pay dividends against the lightly armed peasants of Jaeu’s force. The archers crashed into a flank of the Japanese soldiers on the bank, their impetus driving the samurai back several feet. In that fight Sun-Sin appeared untouchable, his blade flickering left and right, striking at the samurai in front of him, felling them like firewood. By this point of the samurai that had made it across the river only a handful remained. These few men quickly succumbed to the mass of the guerrillas leaving them in command of the near bank and forcing the Japanese army to march many miles around to find another crossing. In all the Japanese left several hundred of their men dead or dying by the river, many of them drowned in the deep water. In comparison the Korean casualties numbered only a handful. Jaeu had won a great victory against overwhelming odds, a victory that would be celebrated in Korea and ensure his name would live on. Tea Ceremony by daniu {SILVER MEDAL} “How dare you insult the woman I love?” Nayige Daize had jumped up from the throne while his ministers, sitting along the walls, made a point of keeping their heads lowered, lest they would have to meet his gaze. Everyone had fallen quiet - the sobbing of Tamade Shabi, who was lying on the ground off to the side, now the only sound to fill the great ceremonial hall; but it wouldn't calm her lover's rage. The tea she had served him still stood there, steaming, forgotten on its tray. “How dare you accuse her of being a traitor to our clan? Months I have spent with her, and she is nothing if not worthy of my trust!” At last, Meiyo Touzi's dampened voice emanated from the huddle of his deep bow in front of his leader. “But, my lord, our Metsukes all...” The slicing sound of the Daimyo's Katana leaving its scabbard cut off the words. “My lord! No!”, shrilled Tamade Shabi's voice from between sobs, as she reached out and grasped the Daimyo's feet, “He is one of your most experienced advisors! Losing him would cost you dearly; don't let a fight over me damage your position!” “Ha! You see? Even now does she put the good of others over herself! Begging for your life, even though you say we should take hers!” “But, don't you see she only...” Once again, Meiyo Touzi was interrupted; this time by a Wakizashi dropping onto the floor in front of him, thrown down by his master. “You have tested my patience long enough! First you accuse my woman of treason, and now you talk back to me about my decisions? It is true: you have served me well for many years; this is the only reason I now offer you Seppuku to restore your honor... instead of cutting you down like a dog!” The look of the servant wandered from his master to the unmoving wall of his fellow advisors, his expression changing from disbelief to realization, then to pure desperation. He took up the short sword and weighed it in his hands, with tears beginning to flow from his eyes. “I have served you better than you are willing to realize. I have warned you of a peril you choose to ignore. There is nothing else I can do now.” With these words he lunged forward, thrusting a wild stab at Tamade Shabi. But instantly Nayige Daize, who had still been holding his Katana, now brought it down in a single swift swing. A screech of horror escaped the woman's throat as Meiyo Touzi's head rolled across the floor and the metallic smell of blood rose into the air. The Daimyo wiped clean his sword, slid it into its scabbard and sat down on the throne again. He reached for his cup; in the long minutes it took him to finish his tea, none of the others dared move an inch. Suddenly, a yelled command, “what are you waiting for?”, and all of his underlings scurried across the room, hurriedly wiping the blood off the floor with their own clothes and carrying out the dead body. Within a minute, Nayige Daize and Tamade Shabi were alone in the hall, sitting in silence. Another five minutes later, after having inspected the Daimyo's now-limp body to make sure the poison had taken effect, the woman left as well. The origins of Japanese Emperors by Supermoler {LIBRARIAN'S CHOICE MEDAL} Once upon a time, Ho-dei and Ho-ori were two brother Japanese deities. Ho-dei was the god of fishery, and his living place was on the beach of the sea. Ho-ori was the god of hunting, his living place was in the high mountains. One day Ho-ori was curious about the fishing and he has proposed to his brother to let him try it. So, he has told to Ho-dei: - Take my hunt-weapon and give me your fish-hitch, for only one day. Tomorrow we will change them back. Ho-dei was not so happy about this idea, but in final he has agreed to make the change. - But only for one day, as you said - overemphasized Ho-dei. The next day Ho-ori went to the sea to fish, Ho-dei to hunt in the deep valleys of the high mountains. Ho-ori has thrown away the enchanted fish-hitch, and in short time he has captured very much fish. But once he has pitched out very far away and he couldn't find it again. It fell in the deep, and Ho-ori searched it vainly all the rest of the day. In the evening the two brothers have met again. - I have lost your enchanted fish-hitch, sorry for this! - said Ho-ori Ho-dei was very-very angry, and ceaselessly asked back his enchanted fish-hitch. But all were futile, Ho-ori could not give him back the hook. Ho-dei turned his back to Ho-ori and wrathfully went back to his home, to the beach. In vain he went under the water and searched everywhere with the eyes can see. He had no clue where is the enchanted object. After months of desperated researches, he abandoned all the prospects… Ho-dei cried for years, day after day, because the missing of his fish-hitch. Ho-ori, a noble-minded god, was suffering for this. But one day a very old and sage man, with white beard, has come to Ho-ori and said: - You brother were crying for ages, I heard him crying every day, what’s the problem? - Live me alone, old man! - Ho-ori said. - You can’t help me or my brother! But the old man didn't obey his demand, and in the end Ho-ori has told him the story of the lost enchanted fish-hitch. - Well, - said the old man - maybe it is not impossible to get back the fish-hitch. You need the power to resist under water. Ask this power from your brother, for a while! After that, I will tell you where is the fish-hitch hidden. Ho-dei was not confident in the success of this method, because his brother, a god, like himself, did search all the sea and had not find the enhanced object. But it does worth a try! His brother was so mournful that was not hard to persuade him to give Ho-ori the asked special power. After that, the old man has said to Ho-ori who can give real help in finding the fish-hitch: the god of the sea. Ho-ori had gone to the indicated place under the water, which was right the palace of the god of the sea. But! The god of sea had a very-very beautiful daughter, who was just in the right place: Ho-ori had seen her and instantly fell in love! He has completely forget about his brother. The sea-god’s daughter was pleased by Ho-ori and so thus they have remained, light-hearted, under the water for three years. Finally, he remembered the hook, and at his request, the god of the sea helped him to find it. After that, Ho-ori said to the god of sea and to this daughter, that he must go to give back the hook to his brother. The god of sea then helped him again, with a counsel about how to defeat the will and anger of Ho-dei. Ho-ori has come out of sea and tried to speak amicably with Ho-dei. But Ho-dei was even more anger than three years ago, because during this time he thought that Ho-ori has found the hook and did not return it to him. So, he began to fight with Ho-ori. After a big faith, in which Ho-ori has used the advice of the god of sea and forced Ho-dei to obey. After this, Ho-ori became the leader of world and Ho-dei remained near the sea shore. According to legend, Ho-ori is the ancestor of Japanese emperors, and Ho-dei is the ancestor of the immigrants who arrived by sea, in south of Japan. Betrayal at Utsunomiya by Destroyer83 {BRONZE MEDAL} Sixty-thousand men The army of my brother Has betrayed my trust “Sir, what are your orders?” Asked Tiatzu Digoda, my second in command. “We march for Utsunomiya at daybreak.” “It will be done, General Dogazi.” He said as he left the tent. I lay down on my bed, thinking about my brother, and the danger that await us. My name is Shimazo Dogazi, a general of the Shimazo clan. We were fighting enemies from both the east and west, the rest of our generals are in the west defeating the clans of the area while me and my brother were assigned to the east to fight our greatest enemy, the Date. The Date are fierce warriors, crushing all enemies from the battlefield, and cruelly executing the opposing generals and Daimyos. If we don’t defeat them, there will be nothing stopping them from taking over all of Japan. My older Brother, Shimazo Hanada, was always the best at everything, I admired his skill and strength, and to be truthful, I still admire him. When we were first assigned to lead armies, I always protected his flanks, and he always delivered the final blow. He was my hero, until he betrayed us. 1 month ago, we were descending on the Date capitol of Mito, I had eliminated most of the Date defenders on the first level, and Hanada was ascending the walls on the first level, and then the Date came out in full force, alongside each other like brothers in arms! The armies descended from the castle and headed straight for my forces! We couldn’t hold out against them, me and only 15,000 of my men made it out alive. The day after the defeat at Mito, I saw a familiar face coming down the road; it was my brother’s personal messenger! He handed me a scroll written by my brother, explaining his treachery. “Brother Dogazi. I know you must be furious by me switching sides and joining the Date clan, but know that I am alright, little brother. Not everything you have heard is true, the Date are not the savages that most people think they are. The war in the east is not going well, Ieyasu is gaining ground in the east, and now, I suspect he is mopping up the last of your fellow Shimazo generals. So, in light of this information, I rode to the enemy lines after our last confrontation, and offered my services. They also pay very handsomely. I offered to allow you to join us, but they said that you were too docile, and I agree. I have to admit, you just wouldn’t fit in Date society. I am truly sorry, Dogazi. But this is how it has to be. Sincerely yours, Hanada.” I lie down that day, hoping, praying to both God and Buddha, that this was not true, that my brother had not betrayed us, but it was true. Hanada was lost. I kept running until we met up with another Shimazo army, and the Daimyo’s personal guards, the best of the best, ready to finish off the Date. “Sir, what are your orders?” “We march for Utsunomiya at daybreak.” And so we march for Utsunomiya, there I will again face Hanada. There, one brother will have to kill the other. Utsunomiya Two brothers, and two armies. One victorious. Fiction category submissions: … Just a Samurai by alasswild It was late in the morning when the blessing ceremony held in honour of a new samurai was brutally interrupted by a hasted scout that threw him self at the feet of Lord Yaru Hasewa, “My Lord, a fleet of pirate ships is approaching our shores. I’ve never seen them so close before…” said with a desperate voice the scout. The Lord nearly opened his mouth when the young new samurai spoke with a hard voice: “To prove myself, in the name of your Lordship Hasewa, grant me the honour to defeat your enemies!” “I grant you this honour, young Ashiro Kata”, said Lord Yaru with a proud smile, “take some ashigaru and some archers and crush those godless pirates…” v “It’s a beautiful day to fulfil your wishes, Father…” thought amused Kubilai Khan. His giant fleet, although a bit battered by the storms of the rain season, had crossed the sea and was ready to invade Japan. “ My Khan, we have found at last a place to land our Great Horde, it is not far from here…” said a scout, looking at the Khan with the reverence and awe due to a living god. v Ashiro Kata was an unusual samurai. He was very tall, almost two heads over any man in the region, his shoulders were wide and his palms were huge. His face was sunburned, testimony of his hard life he’s been through until that day. Since his father died as a ronin, fighting against Lord Hasewa, he became a prisoner child, always put to chores that everybody would run from, often unappreciated and always a mockery of others, children and grown ups because of his size and his father’s past. v The only person that gave him sympathy and attention was Ormu, the warrior monk. Every morning, before the sunrise, Ormu followed his naginatajitsu exercises with passion and concentration. Ashiro, at first, was an incognito witness to the monk’s fighting exhibitions. Then, Ormu agreed to teach the child his philosophy and warrior ways. v One night, a few years back, a ninja attack almost killed Lord Hasewa and his two daughters, if it wasn’t for Ashiro. He heard strange noises caused by the dying guards. He took his naginata and followed the dead bodies left by the ninjas, nearly reaching the daimyo’s private quarters. He took by surprise the ninjas, who tried to escape by setting fire to the wooden castle. Yelling, with his naginata in his hands and his imposing stature, Ashiro made quite an impression on the attackers, that tried to evade him, but with no success. He cut off one ninja’s arm with a precise hit, then dodged a few shurikens and with a fast leap approached the next enemy that crumbled on the floor split down in two. The guards and the awoken samurais finally arrived, alarmed by the yelling and the sword bashing. They surrounded the remaining ninjas and captured them before they could commit sepuku. Alas, the wooden castle with the daimyo and his daughters was on fire. The young Ashiro broke through the burning doors and after a few minutes he emerged with all three of them safe and sound, saved from certain death. After that night, Ashiro was not any more a prisoner. He became a soldier in daimyo’s army and fought in the clan war that followed that ninja attack. He distinguished himself in many battles and gained respect even from his oldest enemies. Now, the clan war over, he became samurai and was given his first mission. His honour depended on that! v The Hakata Bay was made of a narrow beach, guarded from all sides by three hundred feet walls made of granitic rock. In the middle there was a wide ascending path that lead inland. Although it was the middle of the day, the sun was nowhere to be seen. The sky was heavy and gray and the wind brought to the shore a mixture of rain and salty smell of sea weed. “It will soon begin the storm my Lord Khan!” said a trusted general. ”Yes I know, but we don’t have a choice…this damned land doesn’t want to be conquered. This is the only way inland we found in days and I fear that if don’t get our armies ashore now, we won’t have another chance…” said the Khan between his teeth, already feeling hatred for this forsaken island. ”Prepare to disembark…I shall join the first wave!” v Ashiro Kata reached the high shores as the first ships of the Armada were nearing the narrow beach. “These aren’t pirates at all…” thought Ashiro, “this is an invading force, but I never saw that flag before…His thoughts were interrupted by one of his men, “Sir, with all due respect, shouldn’t we call for help?” “Help?! Only the Gods may help us now!” said Ashiro out loud so that all his men could hear him…”we must stand and fight with honour and pride!” He chose the place for battle by placing his spearmen on the top of the ascending path, so that he could have the high ground. The archers were divided in three groups on the granitic wall, so they could cover the entire beach. As soon as the ships reached the sand, the Mongolian riders jumped with their horses over the boards and with savage war cries charged the defenders. A rain of arrows cut down half of the attackers, but did not stop the charge. The horses lost momentum as they rode the high path, easy prey for the Japanese spearmen. A deep silence followed this rush attack, as the Mongolians regrouped. The vessels lowered their landing boards and hundreds of riders and infantry poured out, filling the beach. They started the advance at an even pace, in spite of the constant rain of arrows and the dying men around them. A golden rider appeared from one of the largest ships, protected from all sides by fierce masked bodyguards. “That must be their leader…” thought Ashiro, preparing his naginata. The Mongolians attacked in full strength, encouraged by the presence of their Khan. Soon the beach and the path were filled with dead bodies and the cries of the wounded. Ashiro entered a battle frenzy, using his weapon with speed and precision, slashing limbs and cutting through the light armoured Mongolian riders. As his archers finished their arrows, they drew their swords and flanked the Mongolian flood from both sides. Ashiro swung the giant weapon, his black armour gaining a blood red taint, that not even the pouring rain could wash away. Suddenly, a violent pain struck him in his left shoulder. He saw with surprise that an arrow pierced through his armour and body reaching the other side. He broke the arrow’s tail and enraged, he advanced on the incoming wave of enemies. After two hours of tireless fighting, the fate of the battle was undecided, although the Japanese defenders remained only a few. “We must kill that demon with the giant blade…HE is the one that gives them strength and puts fear into our soldiers hearts!” cried, mad with rage, Kubilai Khan. “I will lead the next charge!” Ashiro Kata knew that he will not see the sun going down that day. He took a deep breath and lead his men into the final assault. ”Shi-no-jo!” cried with all the strength he found within, “Death awaits us!” joined his men as they melted into the overwhelming Mongolian Horde like the rain drops fall into the sea. Soon Ashiro stood alone, his body covered in blood of his own and of his enemies. Three arrows stiffed into his back and chest, but he wasn’t feeling pain anymore, just the burning desire to feel the taste of death, his Enemy’s death! The Golden Warrior was like a magnet to him. Ashiro struck down like a tornado everything in his path. Two masked riders attacked him from both sides. He thrusted with the blade and cut one horse’s front legs and the other’s head. The riders fell under their horses, crushed by their weight. The path was now clear. The Golden Warrior was in front of him aiming his arrow to the samurai’s heart. With a battle cry Ashiro covered the distance in one giant leap and with a single blow cut the head off his mortal enemy. Alas, everything became a blur, the sound of battle faded away and a cold darkness took his body and soul. The Great Khan’s arrow had been as fast as the samurai and pierced his heart. v The Mongolian Horde withdrew to their ships in horror and disbelieve at their Khan’s death. The remaining generals decided to retreat to the sea and decide the new course of action. That night, the “Holy Wind”, Kamikaze, struck the Mongolian Armada, sinking most of the ships. When the morning came, curious of what happened with his men, Lord Hasewa and his samurais arrived at the onslaught. They found the bloodied body of Ashiro Kata and chattered as nothing had ever happened,”…it seems it was a hell of a fight here…I’ve never seen these bandits around here before…Oh! and Ashiro, he could have been a good samurai…pity he got killed by mere pirates…” THE END A Samurai's Young Lesson by Thucydides77 Mitsuo hiked up the hill with sullen strides, keeping his head low and his gaze to the trail. He lifted his eyes only once in a while to squint at the clear and blue skies, where a hawk of striped brown feathers circled on outstretched wings, and hundreds of clouds floated like puffs of cotton. Below, a tranquil lake reflected the sunny skies like a giant saucer of polished steel, where the fishermen of a small boat, dressed in conical hats of straw and peasant kimonos, cast fishing nets into the waters. It was a warm day of spring and bees buzzed about the cherry blossoms while tiny chicks chirped in their nests, their mothers fluttering through the branches with seeds and bugs in their beaks to feed them. Mitsuo took a deep breath and continued up the hill. A young samurai of only nineteen years, he had a young face which he shaved clean, and sable black hair which he tied above his head in a topknot. Mitsuo carried at his obi a sheathed katana and a sheathed wakizashi, and dressed in a traditional kimono of dark grey, with a hakama of light grey skirting form his hips. His feet swathed in black tabi, he walked on straw zori and carried over his shoulder a small sack with travelling essentials. Mitsuo hiked up one hill and down another, passed along villages, walked round lakes, forded through rivers, and strolled under the green foliage of high forests. He found a resting place beside a trickling stream, where he drank from its waters to quench his thirst and ate a pair of rice dumplings to calm his appetite. As he ate, he spied a deer across the stream, which stared back at him with its horned head high, guarding her calf which, skinny and clumsy, could all but stand on its own skinny shanks. Mitsuo finished his snack, filled his canteen with waters from the stream and resumed his hike, crossing another forest and climbing yet another hill. As the sun began to set in the west, Mitsuo spotted a faint wisp of smoke arising from the evergreen pines ahead. With a sigh of exhaustion, he walked for it. At a clearing in the woods, beside a narrow river, stood a small house made from fusuma panels of wood and paper. A fire pit outside the house flickered with flames. Mitsuo approached it as he called. "Hello?" A woman in a blue kimono and hakama appeared from the woods with a bundle of branches in her arms, a woman not older than thirty. She had skin white as milk and hair black as jet, kept in simple a tail that draped down her back. Mitsuo smiled at her with juvenile cheer, for the woman was beautiful, and bowed as he spoke. "I am Mitsuo. I am looking for sensei Hikaru." "Mitsuo?" The woman asked with indifference as she knelt and lay the branches beside the fire. "Are you a friend of the sensei?" "Well, no..." When Mitsuo smiled, his onyx eyes glittering with cheer. "Sensei Hikaru is gokenin to my father, shogun Yuichi." The woman cast branches into the fire. "Shogun Yuichi is your father?" "Yes." "So he sent you to summon the sensei?" "Well, not exactly." Mitsuo scratched the back of his head and screwed his face. "He sent me here so I may learn from him." "Learn?" As the woman stoked the fire, the wood popped and a thousand sparks burst into the air. "Yes." Mitsuo placed his hands at his obi and looked round, craning his head to peep inside the house beyond. "So is he in?" "The sensei is here," said the woman. "What did your father send you to learn from sensei Hikaru that you could not learn from one of his many samurai?" "Hmm..." Mitsuo frowned at the fire in deep concentration, then burst with a smile for her. "You sure ask a lot of questions for a woman! Are you the sensei's servant or..." The woman stood up, slim and solemn, and stared at Mitsuo with eyes black and grave, yet sleek and sensuous. Mitsuo dropped his smile. He closed his mouth. He held his breath. His eyes looked upon the woman steady and unflinching so as not to show weakness. "Well?" She asked. "My father thinks I am not ready to be samurai. He does not trust me. He said that sensei Hikaru would teach me..." "Are you ready to be samurai?" "Yes." The woman took a flaming branch from the fire and swung it at the head of Mitsuo. The young samurai drew his katana and stepped back as he raised the blade, slicing the branch in two. "Kiai!" The woman perused him. Mitsuo lowered his katana. "Wow. Did sensei Hikaru teach you?" An amused smirk escaped the woman, lighting up her smooth countenance. "I am sensei Hikaru." "You?!" Mitsuo burst with friendly laughter, sheathing his katana. "I am sorry, I thought, I thought..." "You thought wrong." Sensei Hikaru considered the youth, the flames of the fire flickering in her black eyes. Mitsuo stopped laughing, his face now serious, and bowed. "Yes, sensei." He bowed again. "I am sorry sensei." "You are forgiven. Yet I am sorry too, for I do not teach." "But..." "Tell your father that I am honored, but cannot comply." "But..." "It is getting dark. You can stay the night, but tomorrow you must go." Sensei turned for the fusuma house. "But... I came such a long way," Mitsuo argued like a child who has been grounded. "I need to learn... I want to become samurai!" "And there is your problem, young Mitsuo san." Sensei Hikaru stopped only to look back at the youth over her shoulder. "Samurai is not samurai because he wants to be samurai. Samurai is samurai because he is samurai." "Oh..." Mitsuo looked down at the flames of the fire. From being a cheery young man he became a crestfallen boy, all but pouting as he faced his disillusion. Sensei Hikaru considered Mitsuo. Seeing him in such sadness, her heart softened, for she could see the goodness in his spirit, and his genuine desire to better himself. Mitsuo lifted his eyes, all but glittery with tears, and pleaded. "I am samurai... I have to be, for father." Sensei Hikaru regarded the youth with solemn black eyes, doing her best to hide the sudden fondness the youth awoke in her. "I will let you learn for one day. If you learn well, I may let you learn for one more day." "Really?!" Mitsuo's face lit up with a huge smile. "One day." Sensei Hikaru remained serious. "Yes, sensei." Mitsuo bowed, doing his best to hide his enthusiasm. "Arigato sensei." # The next morning Mitsuo and sensei Hikaru stood in the clearing of the forest beside the narrow river, a vast grassy area with a view of the surrounding woods and the hilltops beyond. The sensei gave her gakusei a wooden bokken to train with and, standing next to him, she commanded. "Batto Seigan." Mitsuo drew his bokken in a smooth motion while stepping into a guard stance, pointing the bokken's kissaki against the throat of an imaginary opponent. "Jodan no Kamae." Sensei Hikaru stood with her hands behind her back, her blue kimono swathing her slim figure. Mitsuo raised his bokken to hold it overhead. "Higher." Mitsuo held the wooden sword higher. "Chudan!" Mitsuo swung his bokken forth and stopped sharp at his opponent's throat. "Kiai!" "Gedon!" Mitsuo swung his bokken forth and stopped sharp at his opponent's knees. "Kiai!" "Hidari Kesa!" Mitsuo swung his bokken diagonal from the right and stopped at his opponent's left. "Kiai!" "Migi Kesa!" Mitsuo swung his bokken diagonal from the left and stopped at his opponent's right. "Kiai!" Sensei Hikaru studied her gakusei's stance with her thin eyebrows furrowed in a focused frown. "Not bad eh?" Mitsuo smiled with mischief. Sensei Hikaru glared at him. "No funny business while training!" "Sorry." Mitsuo dropped his smile and looked down with childish contriteness. Sensei Hikaru considered him with affection and said, "With me now." Wielding their wooden bokken, standing side by side in the clearing, they trained. The sensei leading and her gakusei following, together they danced through a series of motions and stances, attacks and guards, swings and parries. After rehearsing basic combinations, sensei Hikaru initiated more complex maneuvers, her footwork swift and silent across the grass. Mitsuo followed her every move like a shadow, not letting her leave him behind, lest she would have him depart the next day. As he kept up, his sensei moved faster, and as Mitsuo sped up, Hikaru spun and swung as quick as lighting. Mitsuo could not keep up and got lost. "I am sorry sensei," he said, disappointed in himself. "Does this mean I leave tomorrow?" The samurai considered him. "You did well. You can stay one more day. Now go fetch some wood for the fire." # The next morning, Mitsuo excelled in the challenges his sensei set before him and so he was allowed to stay, day after day, week after week. When training, Mitsuo adopted a serious demeanor, and sensei Hikaru gave him no quarter, striking Mitsuo many a times when he failed to raise his guard, leaving him with many a bruise he did not dare to complain about. When not training, Mitsuo was cheery and playful, and sensei Hikaru watched him with a fond smile on her reserved lips, his company growing on her. So the days went by and the season turned. Spring was followed by summer and summer was followed by autumn. The days shortened, the breeze cooled and the rivers shriveled. Maples leaves turned yellow, orange and red, and the brown needles of evergreen pines fell amongst sinuous roots and wispy ferns, coating the forest ground with a soft mantle through which deer calves galloped, now swift and graceful. As the autumn breeze stirred, leaves were plucked from their branches, revealing nests of twigs which sat empty after all the chicks had flown away. On a fresh evening, Mitsuo and sensei Hikaru sat before the fire, each with a shawl wrapped about the shoulders, and watched the hunter's moon rise from the eastern horizon, round, bright and majestic. Sensei Hikaru took a tin kettle from the fire and poured boiling water, passing her gakusei a cup steaming with matcha tea. "The season turns. It will not be long before the first snow." She hesitated as she filled her own cup. "You have learned much, young Mitsuo san, and now I believe your father would want you back." Mitsuo lowered his eyes from the moon to the fire pit, and spoke with wistful reluctance. "I do not want to go." "What do you mean?" Hikaru blew on her tea before sipping from it, holding her cup in her hands, keeping herself warm. "My father... I cannot make him proud." Mitsuo stared deep into the flames. "The court, I do not like it there, with all the samurai, the politics. They are all fake you know?" "Mitsuo!" Sensei Hikaru reprimanded her gakusei. "How can you say such things? You are the son and heir of Shogun Yuichi. It is a position of great responsibility, of great honor. And it is keeping those relations friendly in court that keeps them from waging war out in the country." "It is true, forgive me." Mitsuo bowed for his sensei then stared into the flames, his eyes contemplating a faraway place where he did not wish to go. "But he does not think I am fit for it. That is why he sent me here. He banished me to the countryside so he may conduct his business, without me round, to shame him..." "Mitsuo," sensei Hikaru spoke with soft, calm warmth. "I cannot believe that of Shogun Yuichi. I sensed from the day you arrived that it was not your swordsmanship which needed refining, but your composure. You may not have noticed, but you have learned much over the summer. You have grown and you are now ready to go back and sit at your father's side." "But I do not want to go back!" Mitsuo turned to his sensei in a burst of desperation. "Why can't I live out here, in the forest, like you?" "Mitsuo..." "I do not care for court and politics!" They allowed for silence to fill their conversation as the moon rose in the heavens. It was a clear and quiet night under the stars, with nothing to disturb the peace but the popping of firewood and the hooting of an owl, deep in the woods. Sensei Hikaru stared down at her tea in silence. She drank its last and retired to the fusuma house. Alone before the fire, Mitsuo stared at the flames, until at last he closed his eyes and let the tears roll down his cheeks. # The following day, a brisk day stirred by the first winds of winter, sensei and gakusei stood side by side in the clearing. "This will be our last day," said sensei Hikaru. "Let us train well." Mitsuo nodded, yet uttered not a word, keeping in sullen silence. They began their stretching and warm up, took their bokken and rehearsed the basic stands, cuts and guards. When standing in Jodan no Kamae, Mitsuo failed to raise his bokken high enough and his sensei told him to lift it higher. Mitsuo raised his sword a bit. "Higher..." Sensei Hikaru sheathed her bokken and grabbed her gakusei's forearms to lift them higher. Holding his arms in her hands, they found themselves very close. They found themselves very comfortable. Mitsuo looked upon her with a deep sadness in his eyes, for he did not want to leave, and Hikaru looked at him with great longing in hers, for she felt for him more than a sensei should. He lowered his bokken slowly, admiring her. She lowered her eyes shyly, her hands still at his forearms. He lowered his chin for her, his fingers brushing the elbow of her kimono. Hikaru looked at him again. Mitsuo did not take his eyes from her. Their breathing softened. Their lips met. Their eyes closed. They kissed. They kissed with a deep sigh, and held each other tight in their arms. The narrow river by the clearing trickled, birds chirped and fluttered in the nearby woods, and still they kissed, and kissed until Hikaru pulled back and looked away in sudden shame. "Stop. We cannot do this!" "Why?" Mitsuo searched for her eyes, deeply enamored. "Why not?" "We cannot. It is dishonorable..." "Hikaru... Look at me..." Mitsuo held her in his arms and spoke to her with fervent affection, his young face candid, his gaze untainted, his heart wishful. "Look at me and tell me that you do not feel the same as I do..." Hikaru looked at him, her eyes darting between his, black and sleek, traced by the slightest crow feet, a woman grown, a woman ripe, a woman yearning for love. "Oh, Mitsuo..." Her heart exposed, Hikaru held onto Mitsuo. They kissed, and Mitsuo pulled Hikaru close, and the two were as one. # The following morning Mitsuo awoke on the sleeping mat of Hikaru. He woke up alone. Groggy, with his eyes squinting at the morning light, he rose to one elbow and looked round the empty room. "Hikaru?" Mitsuo stood from the mat and slipped on his kimono, tabi and sandals, and walked outside. It was an overcast day with the skies veiled in a heavy mantle of grey clouds. Leaves yellow, orange and red swirled about as a cold gust blew through the land. Mitsuo found Hikaru standing in full kimono and hakama, with her sheathed katana and wakizashi slipped within the folds of her obi. She stood before the narrow river, staring into the distance in deep contemplation. Mitsuo approached and stood beside her. "Hikaru?" Hikaru did not move, but stared at the distance, keeping to her solemn stance. "You must leave. Today." "What?" Mitsuo gaped. "Today? But why? Hikaru?" "Sensei Hikaru!" She turned to glare at him. "Your training is complete. Now you must go." "But..." Mitsuo could not help the tears the welled at his eyes. Seeing him, Hikaru could not keep her hard demeanor, so she turned away before she softened for him, and stared at the distance. "What happened last night... should not have happened." "Yes sensei," Mitsuo bowed, hiding the tears that ran down his cheeks. "I will need to present myself before shogun Yuichi, and let him decide my fate." "No, sensei." Mitsuo bowed lower, then peeked up at her. "He does not need to know..." "I have committed a great dishonor." Mitsuo dared to look at her in her eyes. "To me it was no dishonor..." Hikaru looked at him, utterly unable to maintain her composure, and her eyes reddened with grief. "I am gokenin to your father. I have betrayed his trust..." "Hikaru..." Mitsuo reached with his hands for hers. Hikaru did not flinch, but hesitated, then turned her hands to hold his. Looking upon the young man who had awoken feelings in her heart she long had thought dead, she let the tears roll down her smooth cheeks, the wind blowing strands of hair black as jet over her face, her face white as milk. "You must go..." Mitsuo caressed her hands with his thumbs, a young man in love. "You must go now..." She slipped her hands from his and turned to the river. "But..." "Now!" Mitsuo hesitated, then bowed. "Yes, sensei." He walked back to the fusuma house, wrapped on his obi and hakama, slipped on his katana and wakizashi, knotted his hair over his head and packed his scarce belongings in his travelling sack. He walked out of the house and past the pit where every night a fire had burned, where now only ashes and powder remained. His heart broken, he looked across the clearing at Hikaru, who stood by the river contemplating the distance, still and graceful like a sculpture. Mitsuo bowed from a distance and whispered. "Arigato, sensei." A ray of lightning flashed across the overcast skies, a clamoros tunder rolled over the world and the first drops of a heavy rainfall splattered on his face as he left the clearing. As the rain began to pour, Mitsuo hiked through the forests and the valleys whence he had came the previous spring, back to the court of his father, shogun Yuichi. He did so without so much as looking back, not because he wanted to, but because it was what he had to do. Mitsuo learned with a broken heart that samurai is not samurai because he wants to be samurai. Samurai is samurai because he is samurai. Maiko by Captain Jin {GOLD MEDAL} Those eyes. Those soft, loving, almond shaped eyes. She looks at me now with them. Her love for me is not lost; no, it is so evident in those beautiful, breathtaking eyes. My calloused hands touch her soft, alabaster skin. She cringes ever-so-slightly as my fingertips brush across her wrists, reaching slowly up her forearm beneath the sleeves of her kimono. She gazes at me expectantly. She wants me to kiss her, to take her then, to do anything but say what she knows I must say. What I have come here to say. The moon is high in the air tonight and not quite full, but it casts a pale hue upon the two of us standing quietly together in the garden. The sound of water flowing over perfectly rounded stones nearby echoes in the cold air. I want to tell her; I want to tell her so badly that I love her. I am desperate for her love and that I want nothing more than to be hers and for her to be mine. But I cannot. It is forbidden; our love can never be. She is of the willow world. The garden we stand in is not that of a prominent teahouse, but rather that of her okiya. She is a maiko, an apprentice geiko and one day she will be geisha. She is sixteen and four years my junior, but she has intoxicated me with her beauty. I can easily remember the day I first saw her. She sat quietly, pert and perfect in the early morning light playing the shamisen. The sound bewitched me before I even laid eyes upon her perfect form, or heard her utter a single, faultless syllable. Her words were like honey and soon, we met. It was frequent and always in secret but in time our love blossomed… unspoken. Always unspoken. She knows why I am here and neither the smell of the cherry blossoms or her perfume can hide the stink of it. I must deliver to her a message: I am setting out for Mikatagahara tomorrow morning with the army. Our Lord Takeda aims to stop the combined forces of Nobunaga and Tokugawa there. When I tell her this her eyes well up and shimmer in the starry sky. But no tear rolls down her painted cheek. She is strong. She is strong for me, but also because she is maiko. She can know only heartache, for she can never love. Yet now she wants nothing more than to tell me of her love-- to scream it at me, if only it would mean I would not leave her. I see the words form upon her lips, but no sound escapes them. I embrace her, we kiss and I leave. My breath is visible in the chilly January air. My horse shudders below me, neighing with apprehension for the coming battle. Across the field, arrayed before us, are the forces of Ieyasu Tokugawa. They are lined up in two ranks and each man carries an arquebusier. New weapons, gunpowder weapons. Flecks of white begin to fall then. It is the afternoon, the sun is hidden behind a cascading carpet of gray clouds. The snow will stick, it is cold enough. I squeeze my yari; I flex my fingers to keep them warm. Then the order comes. We advance slowly at first, our officers ensuring cohesion. Then as we reign in and organize ourselves we kick our mounts into a trot. Like rolling thunder we advance across the plain known as Mikata. We stay close, packed tightly toward the center. As we advance I look to my left and right to gather strength and courage from my brothers. I am samurai. Tokugawa’s men bear up in anticipation for the onslaught. They are aware of our reputation. We are cavarly; we are Takeda’s cavalry and we are devastating. We break into a full gallop now. The sound of our charge is incredible. We roar across the plain with great speed, flinging clumps of mud, grass and snow behind the hooves of our powerful steeds. Tokugawa’s men are unperturbed by our approach. They present their weapons; I lower my spear and we let out a roar. But we are drown out. There is a crackle, an ear-rattling boom from the Tokugawa lines. Smoke clouds their ranks and instantly men around me begin to die, struck down by the bullets from Tokugawa’s new toys. My heart is thumping in my chest, no it is in my throat and I attempt to choke it down, but cannot. Sweat streams down my face, despite the cold. Then another volley. More men, dozens of them, crash back into the Earth. Their horses go with them, cascading across the snowy field and leaving streaks of blood and craters in the soft surface. Fear grips me, but pride pushes me ever-further. My brothers do not show their fear. My brothers do no retreat. I too, shall do neither. Then, in my chest, I feel it. I am struck. Like a bolt of lightning from the heavens a shock runs through my body shaking me to the very core… shattering my resolve. I am toppled from my horse who continues on unhindered by the loss of his master. I clatter into the ground, my yari tumbles away far from my reach. I roll and roll and finally come to a stop. My collar bone is in immense pain and there is a numbness in my gut that quickly turns to horrid, searing pain. I cry out as I try to brace myself up, leaning against a nearby rock. I cast off my helmet, my top-knot is undone and my hair falls before my grimy, blood-soaked face. What have I done? I didn’t come for this; I didn’t come for honor, or glory, or Lord Takeda. I came to make her proud and now I will die… and she will never know. I choke down the pain, or try, but it is unbearable. I let out a cry and I feel tears stinging at my eyes, then rolling down my dirtied cheeks. I cry out once more. My throat flexes painfully and I feel life leaving my young body. Karma? No, I curse that. Curse my birth as samurai, hers’ as maiko. Then… darkness. Those eyes. Those soft, loving, almond shaped eyes. Poetry category submissions: A Shogun's Sword by Thefallenhun A Shogun's sword A Shogun's sword strikes but one man, yet its gesture makes the whole world burn. Deepest Night by President Kip {SILVER MEDAL} Deepest night Deepest night Silence, shadows. Suddenly a star Brave firefly Sweetness, fresh Berries red, a tender kiss Autumn clouds smile Snowflakes swirl Perch on my head, speak quietly She loves another Raven alights Big eyes open, bows his head Hello old friend Geisha's Kimono by La♔De♔Da♔Brigadier Graham {BRONZE MEDAL} Geisha's Kimono http://img838.imageshack.us/img838/3638/geishapa.png Barking by Alpha Zeke Barking Her barking, so loud In her trail, always a mess I still miss her so http://i155.photobucket.com/albums/s...zeke/mydog.jpg Oh Lonely Oak by wowbanger {GOLD MEDAL} Oh Lonely Oak Oh lonely oak tree Many sights you must have seen Through the many years. In white winter snow And the summer's warming sun You are always there. Men may come and go But forever you remain Always stood alone. Rolling Hills by Mithiras Rolling Hills Rolling hills. Warm summer breeze. The land of the rising sun always sees. -Back to Top- Other News On top of the writing competition, the Scriptorium has seen a number of roster changes in the past month. Viking Prince, who was Chief Librarian starting at the beginning of the year, has gone on an unexpected and unannounced leave from The Script and TWC. We wish him all the best, and hope he comes back safe and sound. In his stead, Hader has been appointed as Chief Librarian again, where he will rule with an iron fist and make all librarians his personal coffee runners (as if the ones in his house weren't enough!). The roster of librarians has seen the additions of Supermoler, Nicholas Rush, Lord William, and Nyxos. On top of that, Banned has rejoined the crew, and Legio has also stepped in to help with the janitorial work. Sadly, Raglan resigned his position this last month, for his own personal reasons. Saint Nicholas is also MIA. The Scriptorium is now at a functional staff capacity, but due to the absence of VP and Saint Nicholas, may be hiring one or two more librarians in the near future, depending on needs. -Back to Top- Article Reviews The Scriptorium will continue, and expand upon, its article reviews that you may have seen surface from time to time. We intend to include more of them, a bit more often, and perhaps change the scope of the review a bit. You may have noticed that older reviews gave a rating to the article reviewed. We are doing away with this, as any article in the Scriptorium is already worthy of 5 stars anyways. Without further delay, here is the first new article review from the Scriptorium. Later editorials will include anywhere from 2-6 reviews by various librarians. Assaulting Egypt - Review by Hader Assaulting Egypt http://img110.imageshack.us/img110/5403/his1qg9.jpg Scriptorium Article: Assaulting Egypt Author: rez Original Thread: Assaulting Egypt Review by: Hader -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This article comes from one of the Scriptorium's biggest contributors, as well as one of TWC's most reputed historians: rez. Though it is a lengthy, high-level essay, the quality of writing displayed by the author as well as the in-depth analysis and usage of many reputed historical sources makes it a rewarding read for anyone, whether or not you have the slightest idea of the context in the first place. But you do, don't you? Don't you? rez jumps right into the thick of the historical context, so don't expect much of an introduction! Not that this is a bad thing; the analysis given is a quality compilation of facts and accounts from a good variety of historical sources (if you couldn't tell from the lengthy bibliography). The essay is touching on the times of the Persian Empire, during a time of widespread conflict throughout the empire, but more specifically on the revolt in Egypt. Dealing with the Greeks in the west, trouble in and around Cyprus and even more with internal problems between Persians themselves, it is no surprise that Persia had problems controlling the far-off territory of Egypt. That, coupled along with the resilience of the Egyptians, their advantage of a very defensible home turf, and the altogether slow assault on Egypt by the Persians contributed to their overall failure in both the short and long run. Do not take my word for it though; read this article. You will not be disappointed. Overall, a great article from our friend rez, of the quality we have grown to both expect and love from him. Whether you require a good historical source for your own work, or are just looking for a good read, this will definitely suit your tastes. I encourage anyone interested in anything pertaining to this, history in general, or just really bored and looking for a good read, to take a look at some of rez's other submissions here. And if you like his article(s), please be sure to rep him, not me. Please, don't rep me. I have it disabled, seriously it's like, futile to even try to rep me guys. Pile the cookies on rez. He needs the sugar. Vale, Hader. -Back to Top- Closing Remarks Well, I hope everyone enjoyed this editorial. The Scriptorium and it's librarians will continue to deliver the best of the best in articles, competitions, reviews, and any other services they can provide as members of content. If you have any questions or comments, do feel free to PM Hader, or any other librarian. Valete! Did you know there is a whole family of TWC Publications? Just click through the pictures below if you want to check them out. http://img214.imageshack.us/img214/6904/61862336.png http://img163.imageshack.us/img163/9602/podcast.png http://img101.imageshack.us/img101/9595/potw.png http://img684.imageshack.us/img684/8086/scriptl.png http://img209.imageshack.us/img209/2438/wikig.png http://img295.imageshack.us/img295/8876/sstudy.png http://img442.imageshack.us/img442/8176/18715638.png http://img197.imageshack.us/img197/8831/83191030.png http://img96.imageshack.us/img96/5504/54150816.png http://img46.imageshack.us/img46/7941/10853012.png http://img815.imageshack.us/img815/1999/heliosm.png http://img695.imageshack.us/img695/8548/twittercc.png http://img703.imageshack.us/img703/6...lustratorf.png -Back to Top-
