Machine-Operated Boy (Erotic Fiction of Ally Mauser)

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Harry goes to find Hermione after Ron and Lavender get together. Two friends take comfort in each other A journey through the Eons by Casje reviews When a strange device capable of remarkable feats is found in the Martian ruins, the course of humanity's history changes forever. The resulting leaps and bounds in technology leave humanity well prepared to deal with the rest of the galaxy. AU Mass Effect - Rated: H struggles for magical control over a mysterious, powerful fifth element, receives an inheritance and has a dalliance that ends in disaster.

It includes a super powered Harry. It does not follow canon. It includes some bashing of my less than favorite canon characters. Its meant to entertain those who like those stories and bash my least favorite JKR chars. Harmony all the way. Episode 1 The Phantom's Shadow. What can the Jedi Do to stop him? What will Harry do when he gets back? T for langue and Violence. Absque by Murkatroyd reviews Continuation of Negligentia.

As Harry discusses his conflicted thoughts and feelings about the Potters with Daphne and the Lupins, he considers what family truly is to him. T - English - Family - Chapters: But he is not a son of Poseidon. He is not even Greek. A Norse goddess has her sights set on Midgard and Percy is the last of his people left on earth as he awaits his destiny. To reach it, grudges and prejudices must be forgotten and he must find acceptance in a world in which he does not belong.

AU of Percy's life as a Norse demigod. Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rated: Embrace the shadows by TheSilverboar reviews Percy, abandoned by almost all of the other campers, abandoned by the Olympians, abandoned by even Annabeth in favor of his new half-brother is offered a deal to go back and change it all as a child of darkness instead of a son of the sea. When Dementors attack him, he ends up saving the fiery, eccentric heiress to a hidden country of wizards. She has a private army and would love to repay her rescuer - by helping with his Voldemort problem. Captain-General Harry Potter is coming home.

Violence, rating may go up Harry Potter - Rated: After giving up hope of finding his friends he settled upon the wide plains below the mountains. Peaceful years pass before a Ranger brings an army to his door and he feels compelled once again to fight. Perhaps there is more to be found here than solitude alone. Harry has been entered into the GOF. With his best friends and quidditch team by his side, can he handle the tournament, a nefarious plot to kill him again , and a blossoming relationship with the Beauxbatons champion?

Follow Harry as he fights for the cup, and for his life. All rights go to J. Everything in bold is from original story. In this AU, Harry has the same grasp on his magic Watch the birth of evil. T - English - Chapters: Geth by mjimeyg reviews During the final battle Harry is hit with a luck spell Harry finds himself in the future fighting a new war when all he wants to do is have a nice and easy life. So he decides to have fun instead. Second-year Harry and Hermione star in a very surreal romantic comedy. But then Draco puts a curse on Harry that never been cured before.

Can Hermione free him, with a little help from her other friends? Harry asks an obvious question during his first class with Professor Moody Chuck is staring at Mauser and has a mental break. M for adult situations, language, and violence. Episode 1 The Phantom Shadow by TheBlackHand reviews They had no use for his skills as a shadow assassin, but maybe the next word would. He was a weapon, a blade to be used against the dark, nothing more and nothing less.

Super powered, and skilled Harry Potter in the Star Wars universe. T for language and violence. Negligentia by Murkatroyd reviews Six years after leaving Hogwarts, Harry Potter shares dinner with someone from his past and remembers some of the more important moments of his life.

My take on the "brother of the boy who lived" story. Harry, Hermione, and Luna get a chance to travel back in time and prevent the hell that England became under Voldemort's rule, and maybe line their pockets while they're at it. Lunar Harmony; plenty of innuendo, dark humor, some bashing included; manipulative! We are now on book three.

If you have not read one and two then they can be found on my profile page. Note this will be based on Titan Curse, with my own twists and turns. For him, a decade later, with new allies and a love, he returns on the Autumn Equinox a few months later, a powerful mage with a dislike of those corrupted by dark magic and abilites to kill a Dark Lord. How does a man who wants nothing more than peace struggle through brutal, bloody battles? M - English - Chapters: Fourth Year divergence story.

If they all believed that he was a dark wizard, just because he could talk to snakes, screw them! He didn't need them. And who ever said that all prophecies did come true? Black and Terminal Justice. Harry gets sent into the marvel universe. Weary Wizard by Yunaine reviews When a few inappropriate questions derail the meeting at the Hog's Head, Harry lets the situation play out. Eventually, he refuses to commit his free time to teach a bunch of easily distracted fools. They contained little more than mentionings of an Alien Society; as a result, humanity develops on a completely different path than what was intended, and when first contact is made not with the Turians, but a desperate, destitute race viewed as beggars and thieves, how will this dying race change Humanity?

And how will Humanity change the Galaxy? The Snake Within by arkkitehti reviews During the Christmas holidays of his fifth year Harry realizes that he should do something to keep things from spinning completely out of his control. He proceeds to make new allies and embraces his more Slytherin side to make use of his considerable resources.

Howling with the Storm by whoson1st reviews Rose spent two years rewriting her history with the Doctor, and now they finally have their chance at forever. But as new friends and foes alike appear, new challenges come with them. Can the Doctor and Rose live happily ever after? What is that supposed to look like anyway?

Rewrite of season 3, second in the Written in the Stars series. Doctor Who - Rated: The Wolf and the Thief by whoson1st reviews Rose is trapped in a universe that is trying erase her. With the help of a very special friend, she gets the opportunity to go back and rewrite her entire history with the Doctor in order to keep the tragic events at Canary Wharf from happening. Or is she doomed to fade away? First in the Written in the Stars series, now complete. Granger reviews This story came from the thought that the Weasley introduction was a setup.

This is NOT a time-travel story. The premise is that the Dursleys got him there very early and Hermione, being the perfectionist that she is, also arrived very early.

AU For now not a T rating, will probably change in later chapters. Highschool SAO by gabriel blessing reviews Rias Gremory wasn't certain what to expect when she found herself in a hospital hearing the wish of a boy dressed all in black. She definitely was surprised by what the price of his wish would be. Obi-wan is the Knight of the Force and is sent back in the past to erase the darkness in the galaxy. Can he succeed alone? Titans of Darkness Star Wars - Rated: Wizards Suck by Ares.

Granger reviews Begins summer after fifth year. Harry is stuck at the Dursleys until a phone call changes his life. With goblins, the muggle government, and one Hermione Granger at his back Harry is ready for change and eager to leave an unjust, cruel, and stupid magical world behind. Hermione has a secret. One that even she doesn't know.

When she unearths a highly dangerous ritual to help Harry in the first task, the two of them never expected that secret to hit them both and change them into Great Dragons! Are they doomed to be treated as beasts? What does this mean for the TWT? Son of Chaos Book two: Underworld Secrets by kevin reviews This is the follow on from Son of Chaos book one.

Percy and Thalia return to camp half blood only for Hades to summon them to the underworld. Just what is this secret. You will have to read to find out. Finding a Wizard While Looking for Help by unwrittenlegacy reviews Carlisle and Esme find more than just the friend they were looking for in London.

The person they find while looking for witnesses may not have a huge effect on the outcome, but it definitely leaves them to wonder what the future holds now that this random young man has stepped into their circle of friends. Angry Harry and the Seven by Sinyk reviews Just how will Dumbledore cope with a Harry who is smart, knowledgeable, sticks up for himself and, worst still, is betrothed? A Harry who has a penchant for losing his temper? Rating is for language and minor 'Lime' scenes. Bloodline by nigelforest reviews Harry was always ignored.

His rightful title was taken by his brother. But he doesn't care. He discovered the power that only he can use. The power he knows not. Join Harry as he goes through Love, Loss, and Triumph. Will he be able to accomplish what no man has ever done? The accidental activation of Bella's treasured heirloom results in another chance for Harry. It also gives him the opportunity to make the acquaintance of the young and enigmatic Bellatrix Black as they change the course of history.

Ravens Rise by damon blade reviews Raven had a normal life until one day she meets and forms a lasting friendship with a young boy from the furture, what trouble and adventures await these two friends in a Galaxy at war in two time frames. The new sixth year by broomstick flyer reviews Re posted as requested, after some small editing. Annoyed at Hermione Harry makes some discoveries about Hogwarts that had been hiden since the time of the founders. His new knowledge helps him to carry out his destiny. How will his friends and foes react when friendship and love blossom between the golden boy and the ice queen?

Happens after the PoA. M-Day by mjimeyg reviews M-Day. A day that would go down in history as the emergence of a new breed of humans. It all started with one individual who thought he was there to save the mutants. Sequel to Potter's Protector, rating for violence and swearing, no slash. Harry Potter And The Guardian Of Light by LordTony reviews this is the story of Harry Potter where his parents did not die and Harry has to struggle with a newfound power a destiny that has him mortal enemies with Voldemort and falling in love.

Price of betrayal by zaterra02 reviews Harry's life changed in his fourth year. He has secrets to keep and he is not the only one. Set in 6th year Harry Potter - Rated: Twilight Comes Twice a Day by VINcredable reviews After the war Harry struggles to find his place in the world, in the midst of falling into a depression he meets a yellowed eyed angel who'll save him. And in a small town called Forks in the Olympic Peninsular, under a near constant cover of cloud, maybe he'll find a new purpose in life.

However, a new life isn't without it's struggles. Harry Potter and the Unexpected Power by kb0 reviews In his sixth year, Harry meets an unexpected visitor at school and not only does she like him, but she can help him beat Voldemort. Harry Potter and the Four Horsemen by DZ2 reviews Abandoned by his family, Harry was half-prepared for a life of misery and solitude, until fate dealt him a hand that turns him into Death, first of a new breed and a new generation of Horsemen.

Harmony; Harry Potter - Rated: Keelah Se'lai by Full-Paragon reviews In her twilight years, Tali is interviewed and tells the story of her life, and the man she would love. Focuses on Tali, and her relationships with the Normandy's crew, as well as the destiny of her people and the geth. Contains language, violence, romance, religion and spoilers.

Updates every four days, rain, shine or apocalypse! Escapologist Harry by Racke reviews Harry runs away at age four. After bringing him back, Dumbledore's attempts to keep him at Privet Drive gets progressively more ridiculously extreme with each of his escapes. Harry, Crack Harry Potter - Rated: A Cunning Slytherin by Rorschach's Blot reviews Daphne Greengrass enacts a cunning plan to deal with her housemates' silly objections to her decision to date Harry Potter. M - English - Humor - Chapters: Enough is enough by Tostie reviews AU fourth year one shot possible future sequel — During Harry Potter's years at Hogwarts he had a couple of less than pleasant experiences.

War of Evolution by Myrddin le Faye reviews Harry Potter, abused by his 'family' runs, only to be arrested. He is set free to move on, and using his super-intelligence creates a powerful company and armour. He will discover his sister. The Girl-Who-Lived, and magic, with his parents having 'abandoned' him when in face they are under Dumbledore's magic!

He'll fight for the evolving world, magic and muggle! Earth's Mightiest Heroes - Rated: He was top of his class, and very intelligent, always seeking to improve things, and so he learned all kinds of things, and, upon entering Hogwarts, started studying all he could get his hands on! Harry Later Mad Scientist! As the adventure continues, Tali can't shake off the feelings that she has for Shepard. He would never like her more than a friend Percy ended the war with his life but what if he wasn't just a demigod, rather much more.

Percy is the unknown and now he watches over his family and friends. But he pays special attention to the only one to capture his heart, the goddess of the moon. Altered Destinies by Anaklusmos14 reviews Instead of a somewhat happy childhood with his mother, Percy is orphaned and on the streets by the age of ten.

Found and taken in by the most unlikely of gods, Percy is raised to be the greatest demigod to ever live. His past has left him bitter towards all but a few. Will he still be ready to accept his destiny? AU of Percy's life. The odds of temporal displacement were tiny, too infinitesimal to count, and yet… The Harry Potter luck striking again, he supposed. So now there's an older, wiser, more mature Harry well, the older part's true at least stuck in the past. And he's determined that if he's going to change things, he'll have some fun doing it.

Time travel minus angst equals this. K - English - Humor - Chapters: Harry Potter and the Four Heirs by Sinyk reviews Merlin, not happy with how the future unravelled for the life of Harry Potter, intervenes early to set the course of history back on track. RW Harry Potter - Rated: K - English - Adventure - Chapters: Harry Potter and the Connection Reversed by hermyd reviews "Clear your mind! Harry is fed up and takes things into his own hands and discovers a way to end the war on his own terms.

No one was expecting this of the Gryffindor Golden Boy. Harry's ancestors made enemies many centuries before he was born. A kindly god is able to find out about the plot and derail it before an innocent life was snuffed out. With the help of the gods Harry is able to survive his childhood before Hogwarts comes along. The battle he couldn't win was the one for the girl. Harry is left feeling alone because he cannot go out without people mobbing him for good or ill.

He finally realizes he must leave England to find his own way and his own life. Finding Home by cywsaphyre reviews When Harry finally accepted the fact that he had stopped aging, ten years had passed and he knew it was time to leave. Son of Chaos Book One by kevin reviews Perseus has lost it all. Olympus has turned against him, Annabeth has dumped him and he has lost his family.

In his last few minutes of life, Percy is visited by a mysterious figure, who gives him a chance to re-do everything, but this time not as a Son of Poseidon, but as a Son of Chaos. She seeks solitude to deal with her growing problem. She finds an ally in the most unexpected source. Now the fate of Gods rest on her son's shoulders. But will they accept help from a child of both Greece and Rome? Begins in ancient times but finishes in present. AU Percy a God. How will history differ? My 1st fic Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rated: Hiding in Plain Sight by Clell reviews The summer prior to 6th year Harry deals with Tom in a decisive, if accidental manner.

Lord Kelvin's Wolf, a Steampunk Tale of Eros

That summer Harry gets a girl friend in Susan Bones, and sets about some self improvement. It is after this change to himself he discovers something a bit disturbing about the Wizarding World, something that Hermione Granger is determined to use to her advantage. Neither return, and were among the few to escape Britain when Voldemort took over.

Years later, their daughter Rose has joined an ICW operation that tries to stop Voldemort's power from spreading beyond Europe. However things take an unexpected turn when she discovers what became of Harry Potter. Ron Bashing and Deaths. Nothing had changed, it only looked like it on the outside.

So he decides to change the past to prevent certain things from happening. Being the Master of Death has its perks. These aren't just any moments, they're moments of love between Harry and Hermione. The thing is, they haven't noticed what everyone else has. K - English - Romance - Chapters: Will contain Weasley bashing and a manipulative, but not evil Dumbledore. This is AU, but will follow canon, somewhat. Oma's Choice by jacobds reviews After saving the stone Harry is approached by Oma Desala, and is told that he is the subject of two different prophecies but one is currently blocking the other.

He is given a chance to change his path and fulfill both destinies. Three to Triumph by HermiHugs reviews An ancient prophecy foretold a period of great struggle before the dawn of a new era of peace and harmony. This win for the 'light' is brought about by a 'Being Supreme' a result of joining of three bonded magical humans. You Came Back to Me by T. His friends, all of whom thought he was dead, go to the hospital to be at his side as he recovers.

Shades of Blue Cerulean by bluedawn01 reviews Trapped in the parallel universe, Rose finally thinks she's found the Doctor, but it isn't exactly the one she expects. She falls in love with him anyway. The first story in the "Past Present and Future" series. T - English - Humor - Chapters: What will happen following this small change to DH?

What will Harry do without his friends? Casting himself back in time Harry's determined to make this life count; to make the magical world a better, more accepting place. It doesn't hurt to have some fun while he's at it, as well as change himself for the better. What happened next by keitaya reviews What happens when the Muggle world has had enough of obliviated Wizards turning up unexpectedly? Yes it's been done before but this is my take on it. Starts after 5th year Harry Potter - Rated: Harry and Hermione with the advice of their friend Luna tread a path towards the best possible future.

He tells her fondly of his childhood and the girl who had stolen his hearts. And why is the Doctor so worried about her Dad's old pocket watch? The answers may tear her life apart. Petrified by HermiHugs reviews My name is Hermione Potter and this is the story of how I with my husband Harry Potter fled our native country Britain and settled in United States of America, to find acceptance, equality and some peace. Harry Potter and the Mind by Overdog reviews What really happens when an abused teen reaches his breaking point?

People get killed in this story, and real-life teenagers cuss.

The story takes place just after the Tri-Wizard Tournament and will extend through Harry's 6th year. First in the 'Forever by Your Side' series. A rewrite of Season 3 to include Rose. Rose is saved from her fate at Canary Wharf, but the universe has something even bigger in store for her. With Martha stuck in the middle, can Rose and the Doctor sort things out? For years Arnold was said to be the one who will throw down Voldemort. But now Arnold is dead, and the world turns its attentions to Harry. Chosen Tricksters by Chilord reviews Very AU In their time, the Marauders went a bit further in their bid to be the best pranksters they could, invoking the power of myths and legends before their brotherhood was betrayed.

Now, as Harry enters his 3rd year, those powers are rising again. Potter's Protector by mjimeyg reviews The spirit of Hogwarts believes that Harry has suffered enough in his eleven years of life and calls in a protector to guide and care for him. Not slash, rating for violence in later chapters. The Champion by mjimeyg reviews After Halloween, Xander's world grows increasingly as he meets new people and drags the Scoobies along for the ride. But actions can have long reaching consequences, and their relationship was no exception. Takes place from the Chamber of Secrets to post-Deathly Hallows.

Duke of Gryffindor by stalkerace reviews Starts with the dementor attack, but instead of Mrs. Figg coming to the rescue, Remus Lupin and someone else arrived and informed Harry of the manipulations in his life. Triwizard Tales by Clell reviews - At 14, Harry Potter really wasn't prepared for the Triwizard Tournament, but if he was forced to compete he was going to do his very best. A strange man claiming to be Harry's uncle is shaking to world Dumbledore worked hard to build.

Ridiculous bashing on Ron, a bit on Death eaters. M for language and acidity. Sequel out Harry Potter - Rated: Death Reincarnate by HermiHugs reviews Voldemort was defeated but only after a lot of innocent lives were lost. The balance between good and evil badly disturbed. Harry Potter is the master of death, what does that mean?

Do the Hallows have a more important function? Time travel fiction Harry Potter - Rated: Love will find a way by HermiHugs reviews My idea of how Harry Potter's sixth year should have happened. With Hermione by his side, he trains in advanced battle transfiguration, charms and dueling. Story contains most of the events depicted in Half Blood Prince with my own twist. Here's how he might have met Dumbledore and all the Weasleys before going to Hogwarts. At the end of year six Harry finds himself once again isolated and prisoned at the Dursleys.

The end of Book six never happened in this tale. Dumbledore has plans that include Harry, but not the way Harry thinks. And So It Goes: It's rated M for a reason. I'm going to stick as close to canon as possible. Harry Potter and the New World by uncle potter reviews Final chapter finAfter the defeat of voldermort, Harry is left in dispair. Ginny is dead, Ron Blames him and Hermione apparently agrees. From Mother to Daughter by randompandattack reviews When Hermione invites Harry over for the summer she never expected her mother to take such an interest in her boyfriend.

Well, at least not like that. Multiverse by Bobmin reviews Godlike Harry? Nested Infinities and mind bending quantum mechanics. Mutant Pandas and Smiling Horcruxes, what else can you ask for? Charlie does the Foxtrot or Damn the Torpedoes by Lady FoxFire reviews Fudge believed that everything was going according to his grand plan when Harry Potter was found guilty…. T - English - Drama - Chapters: Moving Forward by Tinkerbell79 reviews Story continues from the final battle with Voldemort.

This story will show glimpses of all the characters moving on with life but mainly deals with Harry and Ginny and how their relationship progresses after the battle is won. No Ordinary Life by Narcissa Durmstrang reviews Voldemort never existed but that doesn't mean everything is alright.

Without each other the trio have become isolated and despaired. James and Sirius have gone missing. Lupin and Tonks cant seem to get it together. Nobody is the same. The End and the Beginning by muggledad reviews My stab at the Harry travels through time genre. Hijacking the Kangaroo Court by sprinter reviews Harry stands up for himself during his trial and the beginning of OotP. What will the outcome be?

T - English - Angst - Chapters: The Best Way by Maxtaf reviews The best way to deal with a kidnapping situation? An alternate view of the second task They can return, typically in a time of crisis, if they are deemed worthy.

StormRaven's and Beyond in | Books in Challenge | LibraryThing

This is about two such souls. Will they find each other again? Will they even know? One Gryffindor, one Slytherin. What does life have in store for him now? What will he do next? Read my story about what Harry Potter does after the defeat of Lord Voldemort.

Bill Weasley is no different and Fleur takes drastic action. She uses the nearest boy to escape from Bill Weasley but the boy, however, is Harry Potter. Idea provided by Shinji the good sharer. This story will contain Ron Ginny and Dumbles bashing. Now with incest and lemon. Lunch at Maxine's by apAidan reviews Hermione and her mother Helen are having lunch one Sunday afternoon when Helen asks a most peculiar question. Just how long has Hermione been in love with her best friend? Harry Potter and the Arts of Healing by Nuvisionary reviews A true heroic figure is someone who grows in tragedy. Harry and Ginny are two very heroic people.

One wishes he was able to move on with his life — while the other wants him to do the same — and not forget why he came back. We live for reviews Harry Potter - Rated: Will the gang go back to school? After the First Task by sheltie reviews This takes place after the first task of the Tri-Wizard tournament. Everything else after it doesn't follow canon. T - English - Romance - Chapters: Premise; "canon makes sense" though not in the way you think. Fight scenes, humour, romance, magic, and insanity.

I Need You by chem prof reviews What if Hermione's parents had pulled her out of Hogwarts after she was nearly killed by a basilisk in her second year? How would Harry have managed without her? It was common knowledge that the Crusades and Ottoman wars in Europe had been caused by Arab conquest and Muslim expansion since they first made war on the Christian and Jewish territories of the old Eastern Empire in the Seventh Century.

But very few universities in England spoke of the bitter wars between the Sikhs and the Arab invaders. It wasn't that so many Indian riflemen had volunteered to join the expedition for friendship of George Crawley or the Jews of Mandatory Palestine. But instead it was in the shared commiseration with the Jews of their hatred for the Arab. It was old traditions and long memories carried for generations which brought them here tonight. And in the morning air they could feel the eyes and swords of the old heroes drawn to them. There was history and bitter hatred that coursed through the ferocity and volume of the ululating soldiers with eyes nearly possessed.

The men that defended the palisade were veterans of years of fighting in Galilee and launching guerrilla ambushes in the deserts with Bedouin allies against Arab Liberation fighters. Years of fighting crazed Nationalist insurgents and terrorists gave them an intimate understanding of what scared superstitious zealots, whether they wore a Keffiyah or Swastika. Both Jihadist and Nazi were self-isolated from the rest of the world. They had deemed other cultures unworthy to study or understand, only to be dominated by their doctrine.

They were poor Muslims who never traveled more than twenty miles from where they were born. They were blond haired and blue eyed protestant farm boys from the Rhine, taken from their family by the government. Reason, diversity of the mind, tolerance, it was all beaten out of them, brainwashed till they only saw Race, religion, and power. The worldly ignorance of the Mufti's fighters and the Waffen-SS, perpetrated by their draconian overlords, had made them cold and callous in their execution of their ideology by violence toward every man, woman, and child, of their enemy.

Yet, their reeducation and indoctrination had made them sensitive and confused both physically and existentially to what they were hearing for the first time. The psychological warfare of the Rangers while they were on the war path, cries, chants, and ululating noises of the American Indian, Zulu, and Maori.

They were worlds unknown, unread about, and these alien ferocities had made Arab and Stormtrooper alike utterly terrified of the strange noises and savage war cries that called them and their commander to challenge. A chill went up Sybbie's spine at the aggressive howls and noises that rushed over them like a tidal wave. Then, she heard McDougall's call behind them over the unnerving chaos from the palisade.

To his order, there came a trail of men that climbed the steps from the west wall. They strutted with purposes, back straight, forthright in presence as they walked in marshal single file. They seemed to be carrying something in their grip, but the girl couldn't see. All of them proceeded down the line, before taking the long, broken steps, of the sentry tower that protruded out from the Northwest corner of the ruins. Suddenly, matching in volume to the war chant and howling of the Rangers and Indians, a marshal cadence of snare drums rattled high on the wind, kept in time by a large bass drum.

They built up their momentum of sound for a moment or two, before the odd wailing buzz of ancient Celtic instruments reverberated from the north of the wall. Then, the opening salvos of Bagpipes opened as the drums suddenly halted. Thus, it began a second prologue to the main event.

They played long and loud, stretching notes in continuity with the languishing noises of the palisade. When they first arrived at the old fortress, the volunteers from the British Army were told to strip away any distinguishing markers that might identify them, in case the Nazis could describe them in report. Thus the Scots dressed like Jacobites and bore the Bonnie Prince's colors. Yet, by Shrimpie's orders, they were not to play the bagpipes. All he asked of his countrymen was a bit of subtlety for once in their history. But now that they were at the final confrontation, a fight to the death, there were no restrictions.

Each man was given leave to fight and die in any manner he chose fit to represent himself. Thus with the African war chant, Indian ululating, and now the bagpipes, it was a symphony, a wall of noise that shot the blood into a sprint, the girl's head hammered with thumping as if someone was banging on a front door. As the song on pipes finally begun, the percussion joining, all the hair on the girl's body stood on end.

She could imagine in her mind that she must have looked as if she had stuck a finger in an electrical socket. The minute the drums joined the pipers, a terrible and frightening wail of pure adrenaline and hate left the north wall. She startled and quickly turned to the source to find it was Bond. He had a rifle in hand and was raising it above his head, roaring with aggression, eyes afire as he looked out at the northern field. Soon, his men followed suit. Wild and terrifying cries of pure aggression and testosterone left them. The Highlanders were not as precise as the Rangers, or strange in unnerving as the Indians, but backed to the hilt by their odd wailing horns and drums, they surpassed their comrades in sheer ferocity.

They barked, howled, caterwauled, cursed, and wailed at their unseen enemy in intimidation. Bond had always said that God had created a Scottish soldier for no other purpose than to resolve the 'cunt-to-bonnie' ratio in the world …. Sybbie watched in absolute flabbergasted shock. She had always prided herself on being tough, being wild and free. But she was not ready to be surrounded by such insanity and anarchy such as this. She had hoped that she could and had proven the idea that women could show their mettle on the field of battle. But she would fully admit that she had no idea what to do with herself as she stood by while the entire Templar fortress was rocking with rage, hate, fear, and testosterone.

The level of aggression, to which her comrades in arms were filled, was something that she could never touch. They had all gone mad, feral, and had completely abandoned their senses or the pretense of humanity, devolving into brutish animals. She had heard George speak of it before, the battle lust that fills you in the moments before you descend into the chaos of the underworld. He had tried to explain it to her some nights as they lay together in the dark of their room. But he found it hard to really give her an accurate understanding that came so naturally, over years of evolution, to men that most women lacked comparatively.

He told her that it was just a release, a sort of madness that takes over. If you think about it, if you question it, you are dead, or will not last the night. The girl had wondered now of the debate of women soldiers on the battlefield, if there was any to be had in the 's, came from a different place, now, having been an artillery officer in the thick of it. There were always the detractors that spoke of chivalry, of being a distraction, of not being a point to the conflict if women were given a tin hat and a gun.

But beyond the physical limitations of different basic biology, the girl pondered, if not outright believed that this was why so many veterans pushed back against the female presence in battle. No man, however liberal in thinking, would ever want a woman to see them like this. To see all of civilization and society melt away till only the animal remained, vicious, cruel, and barbaric. And though, it might discredit her with the women whom her mommy might have agreed with, the frightened girl couldn't quite disagree with the veterans.

The girl turned to find Shrimpie next to her. Much like her, he was not possessed by the darkest of natures on the precipice of combat. Yet, he was not shocked or frightened by the savage display, unlike the girl. He knew the face of war, every facet of it. And yet, he seemed bothered by what surrounded him still, though not by the same token as Sybbie. His old whiskered face was grave in weary depression at the deafening noise around him. Fore we stand in battle for Empire It was in the cynical and morose poetry of the old man that the young Lady's eyes were opened.

But with all the diversity in the ranks, there was not an official Royal Regiment to be found anywhere. There were no Englishmen engaged within the conflict that had gripped this place and many like it throughout the British Empire. Like the Romans before her, the British Government was relying on tribes, commonwealth volunteers, and old enemies bribed with money, to protect her borders. The Great War's hammer stroke had fallen hard in the generations of young men that were to take the helm from the old guard, and yet the wounds of such a horrible war had traumatized an Island into inaction.

Now, their territory was plunged into complete violent chaos, and the only natural Englishman there was completely Americanized. George Crawley was every bit more American than his own Granny after almost fifty years as Countess of Grantham. But while the rotted foundations were yet to give away, they still did their job. The rocking fortress, the odd and unnerving wailing noises of bagpipe, haunting Indian ululating, and the frightening sounds of the African war cries, were all having their intended effect on their enemy. The rolling waves of foreign and fierce noises sent courage killing cork screwed down Arab and Nazi spines.

They were cries, howls, and chants that, particularly, the young SS soldiers could not have dreamt another man could make with such hatred and unbowed humanly constraints. They had spent their careers marching in parade, burning books, and turning out Jews. For many this was their first combat turn, having drilled all their lives, and yet battle was so much different than they pictured, especially with the awful sounds pounding upon their heads. Both Arabs and Nazi were told that there was no turning back now. If they could not take the Fortress, there would only be a long and terrible death as consolation prize.

There was no water to be found, and none to be had in the long march back from the way they came. And while they fled through the wild highlands of ancient Canaan, they'd be prey for the much feared Colonial Rangers who'd pick them off by the tens, till they were satisfied to leave the rest to die of thirst in the arid landscapes.

So, while they had at least the encouragement of knowing they could not run, their courage continued to falter at such demonic cries that greeted the coming dawn. The SS and Hashemite might storm the promontory of 'Bald Mountain' but their bowels had still turned into liquid, leaving wet spots that many young boy made muddy from their prone position. Listening to the unnerving and frightening noises alien to them, it all spoke truth to what waited. In the waves of sounds, frightening and savage, which roared in stereo over the enemy lines, a sole figure stood by an outcropping of trees.

He wore a dusty and dirty khaki uniform, sleek and stylish in fascistic sensibilities. A blue silk scarf was tucked in a sweat stained collar, and tall black boots were caked with sand. On his lapels were the double lightning bolts of "The Schutzstaffel". While on the other lapel was the "Condor Legion" emblem of the Nazi eagle grasping the Swastika in its talons upon a field of the Spaniard's red and gold.

His tight black gloves made a latex squeak on the binoculars at his chest which he held in a shaking vice. There was something that had once been fierce and primal in his attractiveness. More than one London paper had covered Lady Mary Crawley and Roger Sinclair's, ultimately aborted, wedding, voraciously. The societal pages had described him as "The most man in the world". His Nordic attributes of a warrior in his chiseled face had brought out a simply primeval reaction to the ladies of the aristocracy whose own masculine fare was not quite to the manly standards to which most women crave in sight of an alpha male found in antiquity.

He was the humble warrior before the debonair, the forthright speaker of his position, his openness, some might say even liberal sensibilities to his staunch European Conservative position. His vocal opposition to Tom Branson and Lady Edith's open avocation for American Constitutionalism and Republicanism, shown him in a romantically heroic light to many Peers. His use of the failures of Weimar, addressing the Americanism in so called 'gluttonous chaos of too much freedom' as a pulpit to decry this George Crawley's Americanized capitalistic anti-government radicalism he had infected his Aunt and Uncle with.

He had captured many ears with his passionate talks of allowing National Socialist ideals to replace the doctrine of Church.

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For Europe to reject the backward, frontier, mentality of the American excess of so called "Divine Liberties". The order of Government, in the right hands, knew no prejudice. The dream of the socially engineered society, ideals founded right there, in the drawing rooms of the British Aristocracy in the days of Victoria and Albert, come to life in the third rise of the Teutonic culture from the ashes of Kaiser and Monarchy.

He was a better a spokesmen for the Nazi cause than the incentive of having the pleasures of Lady Sybil Branson to one's self for a night, as offered by Sinclair at the time. It seemed a hundred years ago to Frandral Von Beck. Since that weekend at Downton Abbey, he had his heart broken, his reputation ruined, his name synonymous with infamy, and exiled to this sandpit. His single grey eye was fire hardened as the stakes he stared at from afar.

The ocular appendage was bloodshot and irritated, unable to guard from the dry climate by a twisted and burned eyelid that grotesquely only half shaded his only eyeball. His once face of masculine heroism was marred by twisted and malted skin on one side. The horrible scars looked like fleshy melted shredded cheese that reached to a nub of cauliflower ear that was a mess of purpled mushy tissue. Within this grotesquery were pockmarks of gilded metal infused to the ruined skin. And yet, his unburned side of his face bore a horizontal scar across his cheek bone, and a silk patch to cover the empty eye socket.

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But that was only after the youth had plunged the Condor Commander's face into a melting, golden, crucifix during their fateful fist fight in the burning cathedral at Talavera. It was a blaze that, ironically, had been set by his men in a mass execution of enemy prisoners, rebels, and traitors … no matter how young they might have been.

He had been of the opinion that if they were to avoid Bonaparte's 'Spanish Boil', then they would need to pull the weeds out by the root. It was something that "The Comet" did not hold with, despite both men's distaste for Marxists. In the end, that was how Von Beck would best the Viscount of Downton Abbey, be the man that was capable of doing what was necessary.

He heard that Crawley had allowed that fop, Sinclair, to get away. After all the things he did to the girl they loved, he allowed him to escape 'The Ray Gun" that was made famous for cutting down half a dozen fearsome rogues of occult in America. They say he had caught Sarah Bunting, red handed, in the middle of molesting their love.

All of this sick depravity having happened, boldly, with impunity, within their very own grandfather's library. And what had George done to punish the governess? He grabbed her by the top of her hair, cut her with his Apache blade to the scalp, and allowed her to leave without bloodshed. He had been talked down by mere servants, a butler, an old housekeeper, into letting the villain get away with her life, after what she had been caught doing.

A man, a real man, would never show such mercy to one who violated a woman he claimed to love, a woman he had stolen from Von Beck. The girl's feelings on the matter, her crying pleas for him not to kill her, would never trump the deserved justice of such degeneracy. Lady Sybil Afton Branson was a goddess, someone to be worshipped. And she would be, had she been, and would be, his.

This Roger Sinclair, Sarah Bunting, or any other predator with refined title would be dead had she given him a chance. And yet, George Crawley only ever took half measures, ever trying to live up to a ghost, a father with the look and resolve of mediocrity and shackled by the false refinements of the weaknesses of Anglo society. It was true that Von Beck was yet to best the swashbuckler in combat or in romance, but this was not an Olympic competition, no one cared for records here.

The greatest advantage that George Crawley gave his enemies was second and third rematches. He had his chance to kill Von Beck in the past, and he had chosen, instead, to stay his hand at the last moments. But by the same token, by the same hatred, did he hesitate. He had faced his enemy across the olive tree forest, the open clearing that led to the trench, and finally up the hillside to the palisade. He knew that Crawley was there, waiting for him, he could hear him with his exotics and amazons. His enemy was always the friend and appropriator of degenerate races. But for days he had looked elsewhere, up to the broken tower.

Von Beck knew with all his, admittedly, black heart that she was here. It was a safe assumption to come to when being on the receiving end of insanely accurate artillery and mortar fire. There was only one mathematical and engineering genius which could make any approach a costly endeavor.

Her beautiful mind had thwarted him at every turn, even if there was a 1-in chance they'd be able to hit the target they presented in their own machinations, she was always going to be the one. But even if he didn't know her mind, her genius, then he knew that there was not a place on this earth or otherwise to which Lady Sybil would not follow George Crawley.

No matter where he went, what he did, or attempted, she would always be found by his side. And that was the great trap of today. Fore he knew, even now, that their truth knew no boundary, hyperbole, or metaphor. She'd follow him anywhere … even onto death. He removed his gloves thoughtfully, remorsefully.

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One hand dirty but unmarked, the other twisted and pocked with third degree scars and gilded streaks of melted Spanish gold. Then, slowly, he removed the silk scarf around his neck. For a long time he stared at it. With every minute that the collected cries of a crumbling empire's barbarians passed over them, the more intimidated his men became.

But he'd not rush into it just yet. He balled the silk in his hand, wincing in the stiffness of his melted fingers. He brought it up to his nose and deeply inhaled the scent, her scent, one last time. It was the last time he saw Sybil, in the small village tavern only days ago. They had been sending recon scouts, relying on Arab Militia provided by the Mufti Amin al-Husseini, a great enthusiast of the Nazi cause. But he knew that the Arabs were highly unreliable both in fighting and in telling basic truths.

They had heard the Colonial Rangers were out there somewhere, on the prowl, and they had sent the recon teams out ahead of their Expedition columns to find them. But no one had returned, not even his own men embedded within the Arab parties. It had been a hard road to that point. The Nazis had been assured by their Arab guides that there were wells throughout the trail and that they need not rely on their water trucks till they started the archaeological digs. But since they left the British Mandated area of assembly, they had not seen any water for days on the march, and had been solely relying on the water trucks.

Each time they were promised a well, they found the Rangers had jumped them, setting booby traps for their engineer teams within the blown up watering holes. It had been a logistical disaster in every way, blindly wandering the desert, their scouts and foraging parties falling under ambush. So it was when they reached the outskirts of the fortress, a moderate town within a half-day's march to their objective, they were relieved to find some refreshment and entertainment within their occupation by a gathered market of several Bedouin tribes. They had been warned by a Hashemite Prince, who had been accompanying the expedition as leader of their honor guard of semi-trained auxiliaries, the Bedouins were not to be trusted.

Not only had they been the enemies of the Jordanian Kingdom for many years since the British gave them their own rule, but they were allies to the Jews, and friends of George Crawley and the Rangers. But after a long and dusty road, the merriment they provided and the entertainment of their women folk had boosted the morale of the men. The other Nazi officers dismissed the Prince for his old prejudices that they carried very little interest in. When two dogs fought in camp, a man does not take sides, merely kicks them till they stop or go away. Among the more popular entertainment had been the belly dancers that had been provided by the hospitable desert wanderers eager to please and peddle their trinkets.

Covered scantly by their silks, sheer veils, and bodies adorn with jewels, they were a type of exotic erotica that no young German soldier had ever seen before. But among the crown jewels of the set, the one given as a gift to the officers was a diamond above the rest. She had long sleek tresses of raven curls, creamy skin, and such a perfect belly. She was a Princess of Barsoom that every young man dreamed of. There were always rumors, had they been Zionist propaganda or truth, in which young English women sometimes were captured from purposeful ship and plane wrecks and sold to Muslim sheikhs as love slaves.

And certainly had this white rose been kidnapped, forced into this life, there were a dozen officers willing to save her from these barbarian desert rats. She was perfect and hypnotizing in her movements, playing to all of them, a kitten begging to be petted as she brushed and snuggled up to every man who wanted her so badly. The only one that was not fooled by the sheer sensuality of her sleek body was Von Beck. But, yet, he could not move, for he knew her, and she him. When they met each other's eyes during her performance, he knew her to be Lady Sybil Branson, the woman he vowed to love forever.

After her performance, every man in the pavilion wanted her, to touch her, taste her, to feel themselves inside this silken slave girl with the bluest of eyes. But instead Von Beck had ordered them out, even pointing his Luger at the Bedouin that claimed that he was not allowed to have his prized girl. But he knew, when the old man left, that he would be rushing to get Crawley.

And Sybil, his love, did not deny it as she removed her veil and scarf. Von Beck had been the strongest and bravest man in the world, according to every boy in the Reich, and yet, he felt himself shrink away from the girl looking over his ruined face and hand. Where a proud and brave Norseman once stood, now was but a grotesque shadow of a man that had once talked of a life, of the children they'd have, with the most beautiful girl in the world. But Sybil did not flinch from him, did not hesitate under his ruined form.

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All there was on her pale face was sympathy and sorrow. She reached out a hand and touched his malted flesh, her delicate fingers tracing the gilded pocks encrusted to melted skin. He thought that she would look of this man, this monster, with hatred. He was sure that George had fed her twisted truths told in the harshest of lights.

And maybe he had, but the girl did not let them dampen her heart in that moment. They never said a word to one another. They only communicated through facial expression and touches. He remembered a single tear that fell down her lovely face, as she beheld him in her gaze, her hand cupped to his nub of an ear covered in purple veins.

He knew that she cried not for the injuries the man she chose had done to him. It was the memories, the knowledge of the things he had done in Spain and North Africa. She mourned for what she knew he was now, rather than the man he could've been, might have been. The person who had enough charity in his soul to want to save a girl he hardly knew from a life of shame and torment with no thought, at all, of himself. She cried for a doomed first love of the strongest of complexions of young hearts that was doomed to fail.

Von Beck didn't know if anyone would ever care as much for his very soul as the girl who had grown to fundamentally reject everything he was and aspired to be. He had wished to have died there in that pavilion, when she leaned in and kissed him upon his lips one last time, in memory of what they had once been, and the dreams he had wanted her to share. They broke apart in a flinch to the sudden sound of gunfire and explosions in the distance. But when his staff officer entered the tent to give alarm, a hole was drilled right through his forehead, a splash of blood exiting the back of his skull.

When Von Beck turned, he found his Luger missing, and in the hand of Sybbie, its barrel smoking. He did not shift a muscle when the barrel suddenly turned on him. He only watched her, head downcast, their reunion and the old emotions of the heart forgotten in her violence. Slowly, she backed her way to the table where she took their maps and operational documentation for the expedition, rolling them into a long leather dispatch carrier and slinging them across her naked milky back.

They heard the thrust and sharp parried clang of metal outside, till one of the Jordanian Prince's bodyguards fell through the flap, ran through, eyes deathly open without sight. Then, the fabric ripped, a bloody saber slashing up top. There it slowly fluttered down over the fallen Hashemite Captain of the Guard, like a death shroud.

From the breach stormed in a man in familiar mahogany beaten leather coat, worn jeans, and muddy brown boots. Von Beck knew the Levinson blue eyes and raven curls from anywhere, for it bore the resemblance of one he loved more than life and the one he hated more than death. George and Von Beck took only a moment to startle in alarm upon the sight of their old nemeses before them. But in one smooth motion the Ranger took an aggressive step forward, drawing his famed revolver from his back hip in immediate coolness. But, much to his surprise, it was Lady Sybil who immediately who stepped in front of the drawn barrel.

She rushed up and threw herself against his chest, fitting to him perfectly. She spoke a calming Gaelic with a softest voice of the angels, gripping the lapels of his old leather coat. With one last look, over her naked shoulder toward Von Beck, she said goodbye forever in the pained expression in her eyes. She had made her choice, made it long before she had ever known or heard of the once gallant officer of the Condor Legion, it had been made within a shared crib in a Grand Estate's nursery many years ago.

And it was made known by the way she had taken George's hand as they fled. For a long second the two adversaries exchanged a charged look of hate. Before, slowly, at first, the man allowed himself to be led by hand backward out of the tent. Their enemy followed the pair outside, hands placed behind his back passively as he watched George cut through the Prince's body guards like a Birthday cake, while Lady Sybil covered for him with Von Beck's stolen pistol as any Nazi who had heard the clashing swords came running. He watched their getaway as that damned old Science Pirate's mortars began shelling the camp.

George swung onto the Prince's horse, offering Sybbie a hand. His Dejah Thoris, in silks and bejeweled tiara, slipped behind him smoothly, arms wrapped around his chest, pressed against his back snugly with their stolen bounty from his command headquarters secured to her slender figure. When the swashbuckler turned the steed, the man exchanged glares with the Nazi officer who stood at attentive ease at the show the two had put on.

And when they galloped past him, it was now three times that he had given it back to him. Though, George's mercy had never been without cost. The first time he ruined half his face, the second he had taken the man's eye. But the last was the cruelest of all, for watching the two, exploding mortar shells framing their daring escape into the night, George Crawley had stolen from him all hope that one day Lady Sybil Branson would return to him. Once more, days later, the choice was before him. Even in his darkest moments, Von Beck had held to hope, to put off the inevitable that he could not escape.

He had tried to tell himself that she had never loved him, not truly. As long as George Crawley breathed air, she could never love him. But it was all a pipe dream, a fantasy. She had made her choice the moment she made her stand upon the battlements. He wished to order his men to not harm her, to take her alive at all costs. But it was another fairy tale. He'd not have her with George Crawley alive, nor would she ever live in a world without him.

The woman he still loved with all of himself would die tonight, put down alongside the rest of the wretched, inferior, mortal trash which did not deserve the goddess that walked among them, and so be it …. One was never sure how these things start. Sometimes a battle feels like an eternity, and sometimes it feels as if it ends as fast as it begun. You can never really tell time in the thick of the mess. It all depended on one's temperament and mood, if they were wounded, or active in the fighting. But one becomes intimately acquainted with every aspect of fear.

It was Sybbie's observation, that it was quite the motivation for everything on a battlefield. You were scared to die, scared to be hurt, and scared of who might be coming for you. And in that miasma of the darkest, most frightening, moments of one's entire life, it seemed, as it was to the girl, that time was relative. You were there one second, minding your own business, and the next bullets were ricocheting off the retaining wall or the cannon next to you. You hear their song like a hive of angry bees buzzing and zooming right by your ears, freezing the joints of your neck tensely in their terrifying serenade as they pass.

At one moment or another, Sybbie had been standing by the gun. In her hand was a sponged ram rod staff. She held to it tightly, like a club meant to defend her person in a Dublin or Belfast street fight. Anxiously she tapped her palm into the industrial metal, body trembling and jerking. In the final moments, the cries, chants, and ululating stirred her blood, and she felt an explosion of aggression within her, motivated by the universal and constantly renewable fuel of fear in her surroundings.

She did not scream, bark, or howl like everyone around her. She only nodded her head, giving shivered breaths, as she slapped the metal of the rod into her palm. Then, suddenly, over the joint cries of havoc, the dogs of war were let slip. There came a clear ringing of brass trumpets from the distance that greeted the first light of dawn.

From the German Marching Band came an energetic fanfare of fantastic military reveille. Then, from below the field, came shouts in Arabic, cries and screams of rage and fear. All at once, the strange rippling wave of moving and crawling bodies of the northern field were pushed aside or thrown off. And from under their cover sprang hundreds of men. They wore pointed helmets of hard shell. A white turban was folded under the point and wrapped around the helmet till it ended in a long scarf that wrapped around their neck.

They wore dirty and grimy khaki uniforms of British design, with Royal Army buttons. Some even wore desert blanket and shawl across their uniforms, while others wore ammunition bandoleers. Unlike their Arab Militia counterparts and Nazi allies, they carried old Enfield rifles of British Surplus, some even carrying their family Jezail that they had fought the Turks with under T.

Many in their ranks wore cutlass and Scimitars dangling at their sides. It suddenly occurred to the Highlanders that the Hashemites had been using their fallen comrades and dead Freedom fighters as cover, crawling under the moldering and rotting dead to get closer to the walls without coming under Highlander fire. Now at the trumpet's call they sprang up in surprise, their guns within range of the walls.

The battle did not start off as one might have thought. It was a strangely gradual progression into chaos. They were like the little trickles before water flooded a compartment, or the scattered falling of pebbles before an avalanche. It started with a few crackles, pops of rifle shots that exchanged from quick thinking and reflexed soldiers. Then there were a few more, then a dozen more, then hundreds. Then, at the top of a lovely girl's lungs came the order to fire.

The roar of the artillery shell that blew men sky high was the give way to the tsunami that crashed over them. An amassed crackle of concentrated fire from Enfield rifles fired in perfect order right down the line. The Highlanders shots knocked men down, but also bounced off the dirt, or hit bodies that had been dead for days now.

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The shadow of the coming dawn and the shadowed camouflage of the Jordanian soldiers made it hard to tell who was alive and who was dead. The field of fire was a deadly and confusing strobe of Enfield muzzle flashes and Jezail sparks from flint struck pans. Streamline copper heads and sixty-nine caliber balls of two century past whizzed by in a hail of lead. They struck old stone barrier and Highlanders alike, some wounded slid down to the floor, and the dead falling over and back on either side of the wall.

The command came quickly for the Scottish soldiers to fire at will, seeing how ineffective the old volley strategy had been. They laid emphases on "fire superiority", telling them to target the muzzle flashes. Just then the thirty caliber Browning machine gun opened up, a line of kicked up dirt cut through kneeling figures. Mortar two, fire on Mark One! This time he didn't shout, instead, he waved over to the Scotsmen that crewed the tubes.

Then, he began giving them hand signals, ending each address to mortar team with a hammering fist down into his palm. While they were setting up the artillery, Sybbie had devised a grid system of yards that stretched from the farthest range of the gun, to as close as they could fire to the wall. Before the battle, she had set up black painted stones to label each mark for her officers. By the third day of battle each crew knew the girl's system by heart.

There were four marks in expanding order. Mark two and three was the optimal killing range, Mark Four was spray and pray, and Mark One was just in reach, any more and they'd be under the gun, and there would be no point to the artillery. But when you were starting the battle at Mark One, they were in a world of trouble. Sybbie moved out of the way as the barrel recoiled. Bodies flew into the air, but she still remained unsure if they were more live soldiers than already dead ones. It was getting hard to tell, while the Hashemites were not advancing, but instead were heavily Skirmishing and kiting the north wall in force.

They were concentrated just under the Howitzer where Sybbie couldn't get them. The girl jerked down as they seemed to concentrate fire on her and the gun. They all ducked as lead balls ricocheted off the personnel shield, scraping paint off the metal. The mass of fire coming from the north wall was withering, enhanced by the mortars and artillery fire that was striking the disorganized and spread out attack force that engaged the Highland soldiers. They were encouraged by their officers to get closer, to find the right angle that protected them from the artillery and gave them clear shots at the defenders.

It seemed to be a clearly stalling tactic that was costing them men. They were having no better effect than to pin down the north wall in a bloody stalemate that was obscured in shadows. Suddenly a fierce and fiery cry of spirit broke over the fight in the north in the east. Flashes of violent light cracked and popped from the olive tree line. Volleys of Mauser shells whizzed overhead and chipped the wooden stakes of the palisade.

Indians and Rangers stayed low, ordered to duck behind their earthworks till the right moment. With the first two volleys away, there came a brilliant and loud trumpeted fanfare. Then, as the Mauser fire lessened in intensity, there came a roaring cry.

Shadows sprang forth from the trees, hundreds of figures moving swiftly out of the darkness and into the open. They wore Grey uniformed coats, desert khaki slacks, and tall boots. On their heads were tan caps with the emblem of a palm tree crowned with a swastika pinned to them. While over the hearts were the double Lightning bolts of the Waffen-SS. They charged forth with their Mauser drawn, their bayonets gleaming in the early morning light like a landslide of diamonds was about to crash against the wooden stakes. Bullets warped and struck the stone of the church and the wood above the men, German officers and soldiers stopping to fire their rifles, Lugers, and submachine guns.

More and more squads from the first Company of SS left the fallen timber and rifle pits to charge. Below him, the Indians looked hardened but tense. Sweat was pouring down their brown faces, their breath in shallow inhales. Their eyes were wide and intense. Meanwhile Rangers were nodding, counting footsteps, making a rhythm of the stampede they could hear from their sitting positions.

The ground trembled underneath them, moving clumps of dirt in vibration under tread. They were at the half-way point now. The sight of their comrades, their brothers, half way there without a loss had encouraged more soldiers in the first wave to take to the field. More and more inexperienced officers, letting excitement and lust for glory overcome them, led their men from cover. It had become a disorganized race of who could get there first. They had forgotten that there was an enemy, or if they hadn't, then in their feverish mind they had only considered him a shadow, a figment of metaphor.

All of them, at least as young as the most proper of properly trained soldiers of many European armies, their experience of war was in the stories told to them of the first war and the American movies they had seen. Their contribution to the army came in their proud parades at rallies and book burning before Hitler's speeches.

George Crawley had once read a book on the native Indians of the Americas when he was a boy. Or, truly, it had been read to him by his Grams or maybe his Aunt Edith, he couldn't quite remember anymore. But of all the things he remembered about the book as he slowly walked his toy knight across the library floor, listening to her read, he had vividly seen the picture that she had described to him of the Natives hunting practices. How they infiltrated the heard of Buffalo, wearing their skin, causing a panic.

Then they'd herded them, needled them into following. These large animals led astray, in a sink hole of communal mindset, thinking the one leading them was one of them. In the end the Natives would lead the herd right off a cliff. He could see the hundreds of these mighty beasts of the plains falling from the sky to splatter on the rocks below in large piles of fur and blood.

It was an image he could not unsee, and yet, he had never seen it in person …. With a rollicking roar of aggression and whooping, Indian Riflemen and Rangers popped up from their hiding places and opened up with a fury of murderous fire. Both companies were filled to the brim with the best marksmen in the imperium, whose greatest talents were divined by their muse, who was death itself. As the Germans charged the fortified position, they were quickly reminded, all too late, that life was a fleeting thing, no matter what they were conditioned to believe.

Not a Hindu or Ranger missed his mark in that scalpel like deafening first volley. Young boys were clipped from their feet as if they were a scythed row of Rhine wheat. They fell in perfect order of where they stood, halting in startle as their foes rose up with rifles pointed. The first volley sent many teenage Stormtroopers in shock that they didn't feel the second blow coming. The thirty-caliber "Lewis Machine Gun" had the Nazis dead to rights and began firing in long bursts. The Indian gunners covered the sandy grass turf with explosions of the Nazis much coveted Aryan blood as hundreds of bullets a minute pierced a wall of flesh.

Very quickly the first German rifle company of the Regiment was simply evaporating. The Rangers were deadly accurate, having successfully helped stall the Nazi first wave's advance. Young Stormtroopers who survived the initial first contact looked for orders for what to do. But to each Officer they turned to for help, he was cut down with an assassin's aim that obliterated his skull like a ripe melon. The Nazis wished to fall back, finding themselves in the nightmarish situations that their fathers had during the War in France.

They were caught in the open, attacking a fortified position of the British Empire, and being cut down in perfect rows. The bodies of the enemy rifle company were piling up one on top of the other in a horrific mound that grew higher by the moment. Wounded men were crushed, hands sticking out in panicked cries for help or for them to stop advancing, while more and more of their dead or dying comrades fell upon them, crushing them further underneath their tombs of flesh. But the German trumpeters continued to sound the advance.

So they pushed forward under a hail of fire that took down every five men but one. Those who tried to turn the other way was shot in the back by the enemy, or shot in the front by their own men for cowardice when the second wave of Nazi Stormtroopers charged from the forest. The second company was more organized, spread out, than the first wave. They moved in loose formations. They picked their targets and fired in rapid volley. Indian Soldiers were struck in the head or were caught in ricochet as their dead bodies fell back or simply slumped over the stakes.

The second wave was still getting cut down in terribly high numbers, but the elite soldiers of the Nazi Reich were not slouched in their aim or their persistence. Suddenly, as the second wave made there stand, the third wave came in to support. The third rifle company added to the covering fire, which came in sheets at the defenders.

More and more Indian and Ranger casualties started to pile up. Then, there came on the fourth wave, which moved through their Regiment's firing lines and charged again at the palisade. The Lewis Gun cut them down in rows on top of the dead and dying of the wiped out first company. But due to the covering fire, some of the platoons, through devastating fire, had leapt into the trench under the defenders guns.

Some had fallen in, catching point blank rifle shots as they approached. Others had been hit two or three times already, and lay motionless at the bottom of the entrenchment.

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