Adult-FanFiction.org : Comics

The Games that Gods Play	By : Ristul Category: DC Verse Comics > Wonder Woman Views: 16896 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Wonder Woman,nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 37
- 38
- 39
There is only one tactical principle which is not subject to change. It is to use the means at hand to inflict the maximum amount of wound, death, and destruction on the enemy in the minimum amount of time.
- General George Patton Jr.
Ramon stared out at the carnage before him, his entire body numb from the previous few hours. Squads of the men of the island trudged past him tiredly, many of them deep in shock themselves. After all, this was their very first taste of battle. Bodies and blood littered the field, grass trampled into mud under the pounding feet of men and horses.
It wasn’t Ramon’s first battle, but Asgard was nothing compared to this. Back then, he had simply been in Odin’s throne room, not out in the open, actively participating in the killing.
And this was a slaughter, a rout so complete that left him in awe of Jake and Morgan. He had known Jake was an experienced soldier, but to see the old man actually plan a battle with such unerring precision was frightening, telling him that there was more to Jake Kabrinski than being an aging café owner and that Morgan was truly a General of the Armed Forces of the United States. And the men had carried it off perfectly.
After their initial delegation had met with hostile words and even more hostile rains of arrows, Captain Lance Tiller and his Rangers had executed a fighting withdrawal, with furious hit-and-run raids that forced the oncoming forces to slow their progress, buying Jake and Morgan the time to finish whatever training they could with the men of the island. Ramon had fought beside the Rangers, learning their ways and their methods, even as they taught him in the midst of unrelenting combat. Lance had been skeptical of him at first, but he made himself an asset.
When the small supply of ammunition they carried with them ran out, Jake and Morgan unleashed their hastily trained troops. Jake led the bulk of their forces into a direct line battle, before Morgan hit their rear with a small handpicked elite unit which demoralized the enemy force rapidly. Arrow fire, along with some catapult and ballistae artillery hastily assembled by the construction workers, supported their attack. In the end, it was a rout. Not a single man of the island was killed, though many were badly wounded. It was sheer luck, according to Stanley, but Ramon didn’t think so.
He rubbed one of his arms absently. Jake had placed him in the first rank to hit the enemy, right smack dab in the middle, and he knew he had acquitted himself well. He also knew it was part of his training, but the fury of the battle still burned within him, and he could not find the calm that the few veterans had as they ambled off, unlike the other newcomers to war, the men of the island who still stood beside him, blankly staring at the devastation they had wrought. Why people were so eager to kill one another, he would never understand.
Is this what Phillip meant when he told me that war is insanity? Ramon thought, looking at his trembling hands, stained so red with blood that he feared he would never be able to truly wash the dried strains off. What would I become?

Artemis crouched carefully in the shadows, watching the guards of the prison holding the rest of her fellow Amazons carefully. Beside her, Io and Mala tensed, ready to act. They waited for some time, before a new squad of guards walked up to the current ones and swapped places.
The change of shift was what Artemis had been waiting for. She raised her bow, and her companions did the same. She released the arrow, and before the guards could react, the flights had slammed home into the exposed throats of the guards.
“Go!” Artemis whispered harshly, and the trio quickly ran to where the guards were, at the same time motioning to three more hidden figures nearby. Each of the Amazons dragged a guard’s corpse into the shadows where they would not be noticed.
Three men clad in the same uniform and insignia as the guards took their places. They were guests of Themyscira, but Artemis had cajoled them into this role so that nobody would get suspicious of the fact that nobody was guarding the dungeon’s entrance.
“Remember, act as though nothing’s wrong. The next change in guard is in two hours. We should be out before then.”
The guard nodded. Artemis, Mala and Io slid into the dungeon, ready to find their fellow Amazons and lead them to freedom.

One of her guards clutched Wonder Woman’s hair painfully, and pulled her head up. Diana squinted in futile defiance.
“Diana, Diana, Diana…” Clea purred. “Why won’t you come to your senses and realize that there’s nothing you can do?”
The heroine spat out. “Never.”
Clea didn’t seem disappointed. Instead she sauntered over to a map on a wall. “You do not seem to understand the extent of my power. I control much of this world already, and only a few holdouts remain.” Clea did not seem to notice a sudden gleam in Diana’s eyes as she started going over the few remaining obstacles in her quest for complete domination, prancing around the chamber as she gloated.
“These petty kingdoms and tribes in the north and the western highlands still seek to hold me off. They’ve formed a loose alliance, and only the unfavorable terrain and my need to consolidate my gains so far has given them reprieve. But come a few more days…”
A guard suddenly entered the chamber. “My Queen, Baron Ofursti has returned, and he wishes to speak to you.”
Clea nodded. “Bring him in.”
Diana frowned. Why did Clea want her to be present? What did she intend?
The villainess laughed lightly. “Ahhh, Diana, how much more I have to say to you. Let me tell you a bit about this Ofursti. He’s one of the few who still remain opposed to my rule, the old guard who wish a return to a time when honor and the rule of law held sway. They’re dying out slowly, of course, but apparently Ofursti did not have the good decency to die when I sent him on his suicide mission.”
Diana gritted her teeth at the cold blooded tone in Clea’s words. Did the woman have any honor at all? She even plotted to kill her own people!
“Now gag the Amazon. I don’t want her sprouting nonsense to Ofursti.” Clea commanded, sitting onto a chair padded comfortably with cushions. Diana squirmed further as they stuffed a cloth gag in between her teeth. Her eyes smoldered with fury.
Moments later, a tall, graying man with a strict military bearing marched, and gave a hand to chest salute to Clea. “My goddess.” He took one glance at Wonder Woman, and she could see sympathy in his eyes. She also read in his eyes helplessness towards her predicament.
“Report, Baron.” Clea said without ceremony.
“Brezen and his men have been taken care of. I have investigated the matter, and they have indeed been ill-treating the people in their garrison region. There were no survivors; none accepted my offer of surrender and a court martial.”
Clea leaned back in her seat. “Really? Even with your skills, I find it hard to believe that you managed to defeat Brezen and his men on your own?”
He winced slightly, but Diana knew he was lying. “Some of them did surrender, and they were forced to defend their lives when their former comrades turned on them.”
“Hmmm…” Clea hummed, annoyed. And Diana suddenly grasped that Clea had specifically arranged matters such that none of the men would have surrendered. In other words, Clea knew Ofursti was lying too.
“So now you’ve left me without any troops in the region, Baron.” Clea tapped her fingers along the armrest of the chair.
Ofursti bowed apologetically. “I have sent word to the Marshal of the Armies, and a replacement battalion is already on the way.”
“Then have you any news of the rebels in the area?”
The Baron nodded gravely. “I’ve seen a large band in the same area as Brezen’s battalion. Part of the reason why I was able to eliminate him so easily was because the garrison had already been weakened by their raids.”
Clea opened her mouth in shock at his blunt manner, and Diana resisted the urge to snicker at what she understood to be Ofursti’s minor attempt to ruffle the arrogant goddess’s demeanor.
She fairly screeched, “And you killed Brezen and his men before taking care of the rebels?” She glared at him. “Baron Ofursti, you are dismissed from my service, after tendering a full and proper report on everything you know about the situation there!” She stabbed a finger towards the door, “Now get out!”
He nodded curtly, “Very well, your highness. I shall give one last report, and then I shall have tendered my last service to you.” Diana could read the slightest sneer of glee on his face as he said calmly, “I trust you will not have too much trouble with the rebels. I hear they are very troublesome.”
When Ofursti left, Diana could sense his relief, as well as the feeling that he was hiding a great deal from Clea. He obviously wanted to leave Clea’s service. But why didn’t Clea just get rid of him?
Clea seethed, before catching sight of Diana’s pleased face. “It seems I have made an error this time.” Then she inexplicably lightened up as she stared at Diana. “Fortunately, I have the perfect solution to my bad mood.”
Wonder Woman closed her eyes, steeling herself for the inevitable torture.

“Urk!” A guard could only choke out as Artemis slammed her knife into his throat. She pushed him against the wall, preventing him from making too much noise as he thrashed around in his death throes.
The guard finally fell still, and Artemis laid him onto the ground carefully. She looked up, and made a forward gesture with her fingers. Io and Mala glided on silent feet, their bodes casting slight shadows on the darkened walls of the dungeon corridors, shrouded in dim light that failed to penetrate the air of oppression permeating the dark cells.
There were few guards about, but Artemis could not help but feel more and more apprehensive the deeper they proceeded into the dungeon. She had the feeling somebody, or something, was watching them, but she just could not find anything to back up what her gut was telling her.
After trudging through several darkened passages, the dungeon became gradually more opulent. Tasteful paintings of erotica decorated the walls, while soft magical lamps gave the corridor some gentle light.
Artemis frowned. According to what they had been able to find out, the Amazons were kept near such a place.
The faint sound of footsteps grew, and the Amazons quickly dodged into the shadows. They saw a tall, graying man in armor walk past. A broadsword hung by his side, and the eerie grace of his movements indicated that he would be no easy prey. He stopped for a moment, and peered around curiously.
Artemis tried to press back even further against the wall she was leaning against, while at the same time notching an arrow to her bow, ready to take the man down and risk alerting the guards.
The man sighed, almost inaudibly, and turned to look directly at her position. Artemis became tense, prepared to shoot the moment he raised an alarm. Instead he gave the slightest shake of his head, and walked off.
The Amazon was puzzled. Did he know I was there? It seemed like he did, but…
Mala nudged her, and Artemis focused herself again. They looked down the passage, and moved quietly, bows and garrotes at the ready.
Artemis was surprised by what they found after the passage. Prison cells, one after the other, relatively clean and well-lit, each occupied by four amazons. The cell bars, made of cast iron, looked sturdy and impossible to break. However, Artemis had other ideas.
The Bana made a low, whistling sound, and the Amazons in the room, engrossed in a huddle away from the bars, all looked in her direction. Artemis grinned when she saw Phillipus’ face break out in delight. “Artemis! Thank Hera!”
Artemis held a finger to her lips, motioning for minimal sound. Phillipus came up to the bar to talk.
She asked Phillipus, “Where are the others?”
“The rest of the unturned Amazons are still in the cells here. Those under Clea’s spell have been sent elsewhere. I do not know where they are.”
“Unturned?”
Phillips shuddered. “Those of us yet to break.”
“Where are the keys?”
Phillipus shook her head. “In the hands of Clea’s champions. They only release us whenever Clea is holding one of her spectacles, and only those selected would be released from their cells.”
Artemis nodded in understanding. “Stay away from the bars now.” She took out a small bottle. It was filled with concentrated acid. She quickly poured a generous amount onto the bottom of two bars, and the sizzling chemical reaction told her it was working. After several seconds, Io and Mala gripped the bars, and started to pull them outwards, allowing a gap just wide enough for their fellow amazons to squeeze through.
Io held out a small bag, with more bottles of acid. The other Amazons quickly got the idea, and took the bottles. Phillipus crouched next to Artemis. “I don’t think that’s enough for everybody.”
Artemis sighed. “It’ll have to do for now, unless we can find the Princess or the Queen. Where are they?”
“Clea has them elsewhere too. Security is extremely tight around here.”
“Indeed, security should be extremely tight around here.” A new voice cut in. “After all, I designed it.”
They spun around to see a smirking Clea, her arms folded, while behind her were several men in gleaming armor. And a battered looking Wonder Woman at their feet.
“Monsters!” Artemis roared, firing off three arrows in rapid succession. Clea waved a hand offhandedly, and the arrows shattered against an invisible shield. The goddess feigned a yawn, raising a hand to her mouth theatrically.
“Can you do better? I’m getting bored.”
“Take this!” Io screamed, flinging a bottle at the goddess. It impacted against the shield in a fury of light and sound, blinding the soldiers in the passage momentarily. When they recovered, they realized that the Amazons had escaped.
Clea’s guards started pursuing. Only Wonder Woman saw the evil smile on Clea’s face.
“Yes, run, little Amazons. Because that is exactly what I want you to do.”
Diana trembled.

Phillip stood on the branch of the lookout tree, his eyes staring at the horizon of men silhouetted against the setting sun, marching in neat, orderly lines.
“Sir, the men are in their positions.” Bedin yelled at him from under the tree.
“Good.” Phillip hopped down from the tree. Bedin and three other men waited for him on their horses. “When they reach the checkpoint, give the signal.”
They all nodded, watching him warily as he mounted his own horse.
Since Ofursti left, Phillip had free run over the area once controlled by Brezen, and finding recruits for his force was extremely easy. More and more angry men and veterans who had been in hiding since the Goddess Clea had destroyed their nations were coming out of the woodwork, swearing allegiance to the deadly swordsman who was fast earning a reputation as an unparalleled commander of soldiers.
Phillip still did not know how he was going to get back to Earth, but his first priority was to defend the innocent and the oppressed, and that meant bringing down the empire of Nepheria. Not that it was going to be easy.
He snorted inwardly to himself. If it was easy, I wouldn’t have to do it.
They started moving off at a trot. “Any news from the men I sent to the neighboring kingdoms? And any news about finding the deposed royal family that ruled this land?”
“No, and unfortunately no.” Bedin looked glumly at Phillip. “Maybe you should think about…”
“Forget it.” Phillip said sardonically. He released a hand from the reins. “These hands of mine can only kill. What you need is a builder of lives and land to rule.”
Bedin grimaced. “Then it could be a very long wait before order is restored to the land.”
Phillip kept his peace. He had suggested before a crude version of democracy, but none of them wanted any part of it.
“Tell me, even if I agree, would the rest of your people accept?”
The former bandit shuffled uneasily in his saddle. He answered, “No. You are a fine war leader, better than anybody else we’ve known, but you are too detached. The men respect you, even fear you, but they do not love you. They call you a cold hearted bastard, but they would also follow you to hell itself.”
The Lion of Ares nodded. “And that is the way I like it.”
They rode quietly the rest of the way, reaching a small hilltop. Phillip watched the lines of marching with interest, before taking out a flare from a saddle pouch.
The replacement unit for Brezen’s garrison had been larger than the original one at the fort. Instead of a battalion of 300 men, it was a full regiment of almost a thousand soldiers.
And he had only 250 men to oppose them. The Nepherian troops must be removed, or else the surrounding areas would be back under the control of Clea. Phillip didn’t intend to see that happen.
He scanned the marching lines again with a cold gaze, before finally raising the flare towards the sky just as they reached an innocuous wagon parked by the side of their marching route. He pressed the trigger for the flare.
The flare shot up into the darkening sky, a green beacon for his scattered troops to see. An archer fired a fire arrow into the wagon, which promptly exploded when the fire punched through to the oil barrels hidden under the hay.
The Nepherian troops not thrown to the ground by the explosion jumped in surprise, but before they could start forming up into their combat postures, the fiery sparks from the wagon hit the small ditches along the road. The ditches had been filled with oil too, and erupted into flame.
Another wagon which was parked right next to the middle of their line exploded as well, effectively splitting their columns into half as men ran around on fire screaming. Meanwhile, Phillip’s soldiers had emerged from their hiding spots and were hastily firing off arrows at the half of the column that was trapped by the flames.
Men went down screaming as arrows slammed through armor and shields alike. Horses whinnied in fear and reared wildly, causing their riders to tumble to the ground. Several men were trampled by the panicked animals.
But that was only half of the column. The other half organized themselves rapidly into a solid block of troops, and started marching resolutely towards Phillip and his irregulars. An officer on a horse led them on one flank, pacing his troops with iron discipline and steadfast control, shouting out orders in a clear cadence while sergeants steadied .
Phillip nodded approvingly. That officer was excellent, but he had still other tricks up his sleeves. The first rank of troops hit the row of punji traps, and the officer barely survived when his horse was impaled by the sharp sticks, rolling to safety on the ground beyond the traps. The animal whimpered in pain, as did the row of men who had stepped into the foot sized pits. More screams and shouts of pain rang from the oncoming force, and Phillip could sense their sudden disorientation and momentary lapse in morale.
He drew his two swords, and shouted, “Footmen! Advance!”
A small hidden force of soldiers in a shallow trench oblique to the enemy’s line of advance popped up from their hiding spots, and started attacking the flank of the enemy block. At the same time, his archers laid down their bows, and drew their weapons.
“Charge!” He started dashing forward. His men followed, shouting and waving an assortment of weapons.
The Nepherian officer, despite his outward display of calm, was clearly flustered by the rapid changes in the tactical situation, and Phillip pitied him. But it was only a moment, because the officer went down with an arrow in his chest just as Phillip reached the first line of enemies.
When their officer went down, the panic on the faces of the Nepherian soldiers grew, and many of them seemed to be thinking more of how to extricate themselves of this horrible trap. Come on, break, break!
He gutted two soldiers with swift slashes of his blades, and spun around in time to parry an axman. He kicked out at the man’s kneecap, then stabbed with Glory into the man’s chest. He placed his back against the toppling axman’s body, using it as a shield while Infamy decapitated another swordsman who’d thought him distracted.
Faced with such stiff resistance, the Nepherians finally had enough. They turned their backs, despite their sergeants’ most vehement curses, and started to run. At first it was only two, then four, then ten. The panic spread, and suddenly the entire enemy force was leaving the field.
But they weren’t finished. Bedin led thirty horsemen out from a clump of trees, and they swooped down upon the fleeing men with lances and morningstars. Men crumpled to the ground as Bedin’s makeshift cavalry rode them down mercilessly, hacking at their defenseless rear.
Phillip’s group quickly made their way back to their bows, where they stood ready to pepper the trapped troops with more arrows. He made a stop gesture with his hands, and peered at the Nepherians within the flames. Many of them had thrown down their weapons, and stood with their hands in the air.
The battle was over.
His men were ecstatic with the victory, coming as it was with them outnumbered more than three to one. They cheered and toasted their leader around their campfires, while they eagerly rummaged through the captured supplies.
Phillip sat below a tree, waiting for the Nepehrian officer who had led his men admiringly through the ambush to wake up. The man had an arrow through his chest, but it was not a fatal wound. The arrow had been removed, and the wound dressed with clean bandages. And Phillip had a task for him, since he was the highest ranking officer who had survived the ambush.
The Nepherian officer’s eyes flickered open, and he groaned.
Phillip said, “Take it easy. You got lucky. If I was the archer, you’d be dead.”
The officer, to his credit, glared at him, and weakly groped around for a weapon.
“Save it.” The officer recognized the futility of fighting back, and settled for staring at Phillip. “I’m the leader of these men here. And you are?”
The Nepherian settled back. “Lieutenant Mayse.”
Phillip hid his surprise. That meant that Mayse had stepped in when his superiors were either dead or unable to command, and that raised his opinion of Mayse by several more notches. “Well, Lieutenant Mayse, I have a task for you. Trust me, you won’t be going against your people.”
“What is it?” Mayse struggled to sit up.
“You lost about 400 men, and half of the remainder are wounded. Once they, and you, are well enough, I want you to lead your troops back to Nepheria, and I want you to give your ruler this.” He handed Mayse an envelope. “Make sure the goddess Clea gets it.”

Artemis cursed as they ran through the streets of the capital city Nexopar. There were few people about, and that was both god and bad. Good because they didn’t have to worry about any concerned citizens helping out, bad because there was no way they could meld into the mass of people.
Almost twenty amazons moved with her, all in the same direction because they had to get out of the city, and only Artemis, Io, and Mala knew the way. There was no way they could stay in the city now that Clea was aware of their presence. There would simply be too many people looking for them.
Artemis had hoped to free more Amazons, but she had also expected this. Clea had been against the plan from the start, but the majority of opinion had favored freeing as many Amazons as possible, then work from there. Although Artemis and the others hadn’t the faintest idea of how to proceed after they escaped the city. Meanwhile, Clea and the others would stay in Nexopar and keep a low profile, while establishing contacts by opening a small shop selling cloth and garments.
Which was why only Vanessa was waiting for them with several wagons hitched to horses. The small convoy was parked near the city gates, which were open. Beyond they could see the clear road, leading to freedom.
“Go! Go!” Artemis yelled as she motioned for the other amazons to mount the spare horses, and for the injured ones during their desperate flight to clamber onto the wagon.
“Stop them!” A soldier shouted, and foolhardy enough to place himself right in the path of the charging horses. He held up a hand despairingly. “Stop in the name of the goddess!”
“Out of the way, little man!” Mala chortled gleefully as they stormed past the guard, leaving him in a cloud of dust and choking his lungs out.
Their exuberance didn’t last long. Cavalry burst out from the city gates behind them, intent on chasing them down. Some of the cavalry carried bows with them, and they didn’t hesitate in firing off at the Amazons. Artemis and some of the Amazons fired back, but even firing towards their rear, the enemy force chasing them was simply too big.
Artemis gritted her teeth. It would be long ride to the border.

One of his men entered his small tent. “Sir, you have visitors.”
Phillip’s ears perked up. “From who?”
“The Eckians.”
He lifted an eyebrow in response, surprised. The Eckians were the weakest of all the remaining nations bordering Nepheria’s unconquered northwest, a highland people consisting of a figurehead monarch governing over a loose confederation of tribes. Their military force was likewise the smallest, but reputed to be highly brave and competent. And if nothing else, it was a start. The victory over the Nepherian regiment must have convinced somebody that there was something to Phillip and his approach.
Lieutenant Mayse and his troop had left only the day before, carrying their wounded on stretchers and supply wagons hastily converted to primitive ambulances. Mayse had been livid at staying in the camp, and the young soldier had insisted in leaving even though he was barely able to ride a horse himself. Phillip allowed them to go, knowing that they won’t be seeing action anytime soon. And the stories the survivors would spread about the extent of their defeat would be very useful in softening up later sorties.
He thought back about the Eckians. All I need is a domino effect. First one nation, then the rest. He smiled to the man who had informed him. “Bring the visitors in.”
- 37
- 38
- 39
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Games that Gods Play