The Warrior Hold

[Balamir]

There has been a lot of good quality battle stories lately, so Im opening a thread so all of you with something to tell can come here freely. Taking inspiration of Lady Frog's awesome story, I decide I shall put one in the soup too . Enjoy



It was a chilly dawn, with no sun amongst all the overwhelming fog marched an army with the banner of the Mighty Turkish. They marched slowly, but formidably along with their two allied armies, the germans and english. It was not very long before they encountered a large group flickering in the wet fog, a faint shadow of the enemy.

The Turks, lead by Balamir, the King of Nomads, stood straight to face their enemy, the cursed italians. He ordered his futuwwas to form a front rank, his janissary infantry to form his second rank and unexpectedly he ordered his heavy jannissary infantry to take the closest rank to the enemy, thus being an easy target to enemy archers. But Balamir knew something, he knew fog haunted the archers's arrows like a beast. He had few cavalry which he demanded to protect the right flank of the army. He, himself waited in the safe distance. He ordered quick march until he reached a wide terrain was empty. He gazed towards the italians, and to his surprise, the enemy were marching towards him. So, relying on the fog, he ordered his quick janissary infantry and futuwwas to go left to form a quarter circle. And the enemy ignored the power of skirmishers and concentrated their attack on the jannissary heavy infantry. Balamir, once again was shocked, this was not a good way of attacking his army. He called his jannissary infantry to close the circle, and futuwwas to help them. And there the enemy was in a hopeless situation; circled just like they had been hundreds of years before, during the ottomans reign. The italians soon found out that routing didnt help too, there was nowhere to escape. And there Balamir grinned and his eyes cut through the Italian monarch sharply as he died under his sword.

There was still two armies ready to be faced. when balamir regrouped his army, he saw that not much of his allies were left. They had been crushed by the overwhelming tactics of the enemy. And so rushed Balamir his horse and his men to rescue. He did hit one of their armies but it was no use.He routed the second enemy too but wwhen the third one came, he bravely commanded his men, and when all else failed, he fleed the field in terror and boiling anger inside him, raging through the field, a thought eating his soul, the thought of having nothing else to do. So the turkish banner fell, maybe because the foe had overcome his allies, and maybe, because the Gods didnt favour him on that very day. A battle was fought, armies faced, swords clashed, but one thing still hadnt altered itself: The fog, still laying on the field gracefully, mourning the dead and waving goodbye to the warriors, who had just passed through the Bridge of Swords.

[Lehesu]

So much effort...so few results. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/frown.gif Very good topic idea but I think the lack of responses stem from

A.) Lack of effort. Laziness is a powerful factor.
B.) Lack of skill. People are intimidated by prose.

However, I shall add one of my old very sucky stories from high school that I wrote. Sorta ties in with medieval...sorta.


The assassin wore black. Soundless cloth covered his entire body, the tight clothing terminating only to show black eyes, peering through with chilling directness. He tread silently through the forest, moving when the wind was high and stopping when it fell, his form indistingushable from the trees in the cold, moonless night. A small black pouch was on his back, bulging with the various tools of his profession. He was a master assassin, having killed many distinguished people, but this one was special. This kill was not for the money, or the notoriety. This was for revenge.
Years ago, when he was only a boy, this assassin lived in a small fiefdom, son of the castle lord. It was not a large castle, more like a ring of palisades and a small wooden keep, but it was still for the purpose of war. When cause for battle did occur, his father, who was a just and honorable man, chose the side of good. However, this angered powerful people. The young boy came home one day to witness a massacre. Coming from the forest, where he had been collecting wood for the nightly bonfire, he arrived to the screams of his people. A horde of black horseman, henchman of the Warlord Rakan, had stormed the small town and burned it, riding away as the flames and screams mingled together in the smoke-filled air. He heard those sounds for the rest of his life.
The assassin stopped. A small guard post was in the way, manned by a group of three men, clad in ill-fitting hauberks and wielding spears, keeping watch on the surrounding land. Opening his small pouch, the assassin picked up a small wooden staff. After careful manipulation, two wicked blades jumped out of both ends of the stick, coated black to dull any shine. The assassin took off his mask, revealing short cropped black hair and sharply chiseled features. He walked up to the guards, the black blades unseen in the equally black darkness. After hailing them with a jaunty wave, the assassin swung his arm and threw the stick at the guards. The blade whistled through the air, decapitating two of the guards and burying its point into the last guards neck. The assassin placed his mask on and walked up to the prostrate guards, internal screams vying for attention with his blood besotted mind. He kneeled down to the ground, clapping his hands to his ears, as the scraping screams surged with a crescendo, hammering his mind with forceful vengeance, then falling to a bare whisper. After cleaning the now red blades on the grass, the black man moved his hands and the blades snapped back into place, his internal battle won. He walked quickly now, knowing that only a certain amount of time remained before the dead guards were found.
The dark man found himself near the castle walls, which were high and straight, exuding a sense of granduer and strength. The assassin fished through his bag and this time dragged out a grapnel, the strong coils of rope folded neatly. He uncoiled this rope and placed it in his left hand; with his right hand he swung the grapnel head around in a circle high above his head, once, twice, three times and then released. The grapnel swung upwards and landed with a small metalic scratch on a parapet. After testing his weight against the rope, the assassin strapped on his pouch and slithered upwards, looking like a spider crawling toward a trapped fly. After reaching the top, the assassin observed the keep, a dark, ominous tower that stood crookedly, it seemed, more on its malevolent facade than any feat of engineering. After using the same grapnel to rappel down the other side of the wall, the assassin stood right up against the malificent structure, sizing it up and down with a critical eye. After comparing the length of the rope and the height of the keep, the assassin knew that his grapnel would not bring him to his destination, all the way at the top of the tower. Rather, he used the grapnel to get him to a lower level of the keep, wrenching open the rusty bars of a window and moved in. Moving with practiced speed and silence, the killer moved up flights of stairs, avoiding well lit and thus well traveled routes.
At last he reached his objective. The murderor of his family and life slept, two well equipped and doubtless well trained guards standing at his door. The assassin slid two knives out, one from each ankle sheath, and gazed at them. These blades, well weighted and sized for throwing, were painted black, but for a different reason than his double-bladed spear. These knives contained a virulent toxin. The assassin jumped around the corner and threw his blades, each catching a guard in his throat, their gurgling choking off as the poison took affect. Again, the screams enveloped his mind, but he shut them out with dark thoughts of his own. He unsheathed his short sword and opened the door. He walked in and stood next to the bed, the warlord sleeping peacefully. The assassin raised his sword above his head. And stopped. The screams were a cacophony now, ripping through his being, distorting his vision. Swords, riders, money, honor, hate, lust, greed, blood, laughter, fire, joy. Over and over again, shards of pure light and darkness drilled him, his mind at the mercy of this furious onslaught. He willed his arms to lower, to slake his thirst for death, his arm trembling with the effort. Suddenly, he stopped. He sheathed his sword, turned around, and walked back from whence he came, the screams in his head silent for the first time in his life.


I am rereading this now, and appalled at the very cliche subject matter and resolution, and the real lack of uniquness or inspiration. O well, my contribution has been submitted. Yes, this was copied and pasted, but is indeed

my work.

[frogbeastegg]

Thank you Balamir I'm glad you liked my (long) tale http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif . When I saw the topic I thought I'd upset someone by including that small novel in the 'how bad were you' topic. Big relief to find otherwise. You've got a good story there and a good idea so I hope you don't mind me adding a tale to help get the ball rolling.
(Lady frog, I like that http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/smile.gif )

This is from Shogun: Total War at the end of my first campaign game. It's all true except I don't really know how Hojo died I just got a message and this seemed like as good an explaination as any. This is also the only battle I have fought in a thunderstorm, it was incredibly cool.



On the slopes of a mighty mountain two great armies met to decide the fate of Japan. On one side were the Hojo resolved to find victory or to die with their clan. On the other were the all conquering Shimazu lead by Lady frog. The Gods themselves seemed to understand the importance of this battle as they sent a thunderstorm to rage over the field. Lord Hojo claimed this was a sign from the Christian God in answer to his prayers. Lady frog merely stated that someone was going to get wet.

The Hojo had mustered every samurai and Ronin left in Japan for this final battle, they numbered more than 9000. Taking up their positions on the top of the mountain the spears and polearms looked like a forest. On the plain below the Shimazu were assembling numbering only 3500. But this was an army that had swept through Japan defeating all that stood in their way. Grizzled veterans with the best equipment in Japan they feared nothing.

As thunder lit the sky the Hojo archers opened fire darkening the sky still further with the vast quantities of arrows fired. The Shimazu advanced slowly up the mountain their own archers useless as the bowstrings were so wet the arrows could not reach the enemy. The Hojo arrows found some targets and many a brave warrior died but the inexorable march of death continued.

As the weather grew even worse the Shimazu warrior monks reached their enemy and with a great cry began to kill those who had abandoned the Buddist faith. They were closely followed by a wave of heavy cavalry, which galloped around the flanks of the enemy and engaged the rain soaked gunners. The second wave of Shimazu warrior monks reinforced the tired men at the front of the battle who were beginning to be pushed down the mountain. In this fierce melee Lord Hojo's son was bravely cut down.

Lord Hojo charged into the Shimazu centre to encourage his men believing that he was beginning to win. The response was great and the Hojo broke the first units of warrior monks who had suffered massive casualties. Seeing that victory lay in the balance Lady frog joined the battle herself leading her unit of heavy cavalry and several units of yari samurai to battle Lord Hojo.

At this point the thunder grew so loud that the ground shook and the bolts seemed to be striking down the warriors in their metal armour. Lord Hojo once again prayed to his Christian God for a sign and was struck down by a bolt of lightning. Perhaps this was a sign of his Gods displeasure, or maybe his ancestors ended his heresy.

After Lord Hojo's death his men fought to the death with only a handful of survivors but without his leadership they stood no chance of victory. Over 10,000 brave warriors died on that day bathing the mountain in their blood. Their valour and adherence to the way of the Samurai will be remembered forever.

After the battle Japan was united under Lady frogs rule and many a peasant was heard to say how about a cut in taxes? shortly before they died from the terrible disease known as 'big mouth, small brain'

[Balamir]

2 great stories added I'd say its not really bad for a start, this will encourage others and this thread shall live, and maybe not. Thanks for the compliments about the story, and I'd like to mention the story really did happen in the MP. I was proud I could use my homeland's tactics. And Lehesu, seems like you had a really bright high school period pal http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif Great job.

[Satyr]

Ok, so I was playing as the Vikings so I have overpowering force, but still I thought I was dead and gone so many times, I had a great time.

The year is around 840 or so. The Northumbrians had lost their king and gone all rebel about 20 years ago. I had taken some of their provinces and I was working on building enough troops to take out the remaining 3 stacks of rebels. Well, the Northumbrians re-emerge BIG time. They come back with 6 full stacks including some in a province I had conquered that turn. This of course puts me at war with them. Well, I already have a good war going with the Picts so I can't really afford another right now and so I withdraw all my troops.

A couple years later I finish off the Picts but now I am connected to the Northumbrian territory. While I was not watching, the Northumbrians had bribed the other 2 stacks of rebels and promptly marched 3 full stacks into my territory. I had a pretty full stack waiting with 8 companies of Huscarles, 2 of archers and 5 of fairly well upgraded Viking Cav. So I am feeling ok about defending, but once the battle started I forgot how many reinforcements were available to the enemy.

So I have attacked his initial troops and I am chasing them all over the map when here come about 6 companies of reinforcements onto the map. I think, ok I can handle them, but then 10 more pop over the edge and my guys are everywhere. I just manage to run all my troops back to form a line when they charge. I charge back I am soon routing this line as well and again I forget about reinforcements and start chasing and capturing routers.

Well, by now my troops are getting pretty sacked and I have had 2 very depleted companies of Huscarles rout. Well, here comes a few more enemy troops Darn I think (well not really darn, but this place is G rated so you get my drift) and I try to collect my guys on the top of a nearby hill. I manage to only get 4 companies of Huscarles (now down to about 40 men each) there and 2 companies of cav. This time fortunately the enemy charges some cav at me first and my guys easily smash and rout them. Pretty soon though, here come 12 more stacks of troops.

So all my troops are totally exhausted, once again spread all over the map and here come piles of spears and woodsmen and a few peasants. By now, everyone is SO TIRED the freaking peasants are evenly matched with my Huscarles and I am sure I am going down to defeat this time. On top of that, the enemy comes in and immediately goes to the top of a wooded hillside that some of my troops are trying to come over to meet the rest to reform some sort of line.

Troops clash, again My guys are starting to waver and it is only when I hit the enemy in the rear with some horses that I start to make a dent. Meanwhile, there are troops pouring over the hill and charging the 3 remaining companies of Huscarles I have managed to form a line with. About this time I also found a whole company of cav far, far away in another valley who had gotten lost chasing routers from the first wave and I start running them over to help my guys who were ambushed on the hill. Thank god for small miracles, if they hadn't been fresh I am not sure I ever would have routed that last wave. After this it was just mop up duty and routing the last 3 companies of peasants that tried to come on as reinforcements and I had won.

I am usually much better at keeping everyone together and just using cav to chase routers but it was about 1 in the morning and I was getting a little droopy from having fought many battles that night. But to snatch victory from defeat over and over was just too much fun. In the end, I had only lost about 300 men while I killed 1300 and captured and slaughtered 1600. Prince Cnut gained 4 new vices that day: No Mercy, Butcher, Skilled Last Stand Defender, and Skilled Defender. He also gained his 8th command star.

God, I love this game

[Monk]

The Sun fell behind the blood riden sand dunes of Egypt, the wind kicked up from the east and the sand was flung freely through the air. The battle for Egypt had just ended with the French Crusaders scoring themselves a victory in the eye's of the Church. Many troops had fallen on both sides and the defeated retreated within the Mighty Fortress. Having most of his army defeated the Sultan called for his closest son to come to him, badly wounded from an arrow the Sultan entrusted wis son the leadership of the great Egyptian armies.

It was a year before the Crusaders would strike again, this time they attacked the Strong Castle. as day broke upon the lands the French loaded their cannons and aimed them toward the Fortress. the men within looked out in fear as their walls would fall easily under the fire from such weapons. however they had hope on their side, still hoping that a releif force would come to their aid. However the battle started, the cannons thundered their great projectiles forward into the walls of stone,the defenders began to step backard for fear of the wall collapsing, then suddenly it happened. The wall came crashing down killing 25 spearmen.

Those still alive made a perimiter around the openng and prepared for the charge, The French Knights came rushing in completly destroying those that sxtood before them. Even when the last remaining Camel warriors attacked them, it was not enough to drive them back. The men of Egypt stood no chance under such skill and bravery, and it did not take long for the outer ring of defenders to be completly whiped out. The general with his small number of bady guards stood looking at the bodies of his fallen comrades through the gate, he wept for them a moment, but before he could mourn their loss the French crusaders attacked the verfy gate he looked through.

Only a small number of spearmen stood with the heir to the throne and his father. The gate came crashing in and the remaining Knights charged forth. The Ghulam Bodyguards went forth protecting their masters, the spearmen attacked on the flanks of the attackers but they were soon annihilated as they were so small in number, not one man was taken alive. althugh their army defeated the King and son fought on, they battled with the french knights for many hours, but when his own son fell under the sword, the Sultan and his 2 bodyguards still living fell back to the other side of the walls, there they fought to the last man and all died.

The French took Egypt that day and the Armies of Egypt were severly weakened, they never recovered enough to mount a succesul attack on the Crusaders and Egypt became a stronghold of Christianity in the midst of the Muslim world, many attempts were made to reclaim the lost land but none Triumphed. 20 years later the Egyptian Sultan died of a illness, having no heir his forces turned rebel.

In his dieing word the Suntan said oh my father i have failed his name was Monk the VII and his kingdom had fallen

[Mechstra]

I wrote this story a year ago, and I've improved since, but I quite like this one. Enjoy, everyone.

~

For the glory of the King. A phrase often heard in the ranks of Charlemagne’s armies. Or at least from the officers. The soldiers were to fight for ‘the glory of the King’. They’d never seen the King. The men-at-arms fought and died in the muddy fields, battling the Germanic tribes, the Saxons.

Saxons. The word meant ‘invaders’. The armies of King Charlemagne went deep into Germania and battled the ‘invaders’, the once-peaceful farmers and herders that had, at one time, lived in idyllic villages by the Rhine, living off the fat of the land. And now they were desperately defending their farmsteads. The invaders being invaded.

Jacques Heuland though that the ‘invaders’ concept had been made up to persuade the soldiers to fight harder, more efficiently. Jacques was an archer in the Royal Army, of low rank, but experienced. He had fought many battles against the Saxons, seen his friends cut down by the enemy, fresh-faced and naïve swordsmen, little more than teenagers, going to their first battle and never coming back.

His life was a cycle of horror, that would end only when he was killed or grew too old. The latter seemed very far away.

The army was at present camped in a valley, green and fertile, deep in Saxon territory. Or what had once been Saxon territory. Only two days ago, they had come across a Saxon outpost. The outpost was now little more than charred stockades and foundations, with a fresh mound of corpses a little way away.

Beside Jacques was his friend, Reynauld. He gave no surname, only his Christian name. No-one minded. Reynauld was a good shot with a bow, and was always ready to share a joke or a drink with his fellows. Jacques turned to him, and said:

‘Do you think we’re going home soon?’

Reynauld laughed from deep inside him. From such a grizzled man, it was a surprisingly hearty laugh. ‘My friend, all you think of is home No, I don’t think we’ll see the sweet fields of France for many a day. Something’s in the air, I can almost taste it. We’re going to face some tougher opposition than those poor wretches at the outpost.’

Just then, Guillaume, the King’s trusted commander, strode up towards them. They were closest to his tent.

‘You two, pack your things. The king has sent a messenger to tell us to go home. He is pleased with our progress, and he wants us to come back to France.’ With that, he powered off to the next group, to inform them of the same.

Soon the whole camp was a hive of activity. The soldiers, overjoyed by the news that they were to return home, set to the clearing of the valley with a will. But then, the unthinkable happened.

A cry went up from the wooded sides of the valley. Hundreds upon hundreds of Saxon soldiers came into view, and a large part of them swarmed down the valley sides to surround the Franks. Trapped and disorganized, the army desperately abandoned what they were doing, and drew their weapons

Each Saxon was armed with a spear, and had a round leather buckler for limited protection. They made a fearsome sight, each one yelling and waving his weapon.

Reynauld held his bow high, and shouted, ‘Rally to me, archers’ Guillaume complemented this with a cry of, ‘For the glory of the King’

Jacques unslung his bow, and pulled a barbed shaft from his quiver. He drew back the string, closed one eye, sighted, and fired. A Saxon, charging down the valley slope fell dead, transfixed by an arrow. About twenty others followed his example.

And the Saxons still charged.

The ranks of swordsmen clashed with the Saxon spearmen, soldiers of both sides screaming as they went down. Saxon archers came into view now, firing off volleys of arrows at the beleaguered Franks. Jacques saw Reynauld go down with an arrow in his throat.

The Saxons charged on.

They cut through the French lines, and reached the archers, who were desperately reaching for their belt knives. Jacques loosed an arrow, and took out another one. His last arrow, his quiver empty. A Saxon stopped about four yards away, and angled his spear for a throw. Jacques’ bowstring tensed. The spearman threw, a look of satisfaction on his face, as he sank to the ground with Jacques’ last arrow in his chest.

Jacques’ breathing came with difficulty, and he dropped his bow. A spear was protruding from his body. He sank to his knees, thinking about what his death was achieving. The glory of the King, a man he’d never seen. He opened his mouth to laugh at the sheer pointlessness of it all, and died, a bitter smile on his face.

[Balamir]

Wow A bunch of nice replies we have here I havent been idle enough to read the last ones, but Im sure I'll have a good time when I do. Congrats to those who spent their times for the thread, and thanks http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif

[hrvojej]

Ok, let's give this topic another boost.

One of the final battles in my Egyptian campaign, from couple of days ago. I was defending against the Sicilians who were attempting to lift the siege in Naples. My main army in that region moved off to invade Malta and Sicilian king, so only 2 stacks of second-hand units under 4 star general were present to sit out the siege, since I had no siege engines available. The enemy invades with 3 stacks, plus the castle garrison, led by a six star general. The general was also very honest (+1 morale), and since it was siege lifting, they had morale bonus to no retreat possible. Their opening army consists mainly of feudal and militia sergeants, 3 units of arbalests, feudal kights valour 5, and 3 units of high royal knights, one particularly dangerous one with valour 8, the other 2 with valour 5, and a general with late royal knights. I choose to defend with infantry, since cavalry would be outclassed and lack the impact in the opening stages. So, I fielded 4 units of nizaris, 4 units of ghazis, 3 units of abyssinians, 2 saracens, 1 muwahids, mamluk HA, and my general with his camels. The army camps on the hill, and braces for impact. As soon as they arrive, his arbalests open fire, as well as my nizaris. I'm trying to shoot down the genral, as well as those killer knights, but only a volley or two are released before they charge my right flank. Several units of FS, MS and spearmen lead the charge and are greeted by 2 ghazis and 2 abbysinians, while the royals stay behind further on the flank. I manage to stop them, but as soon as I do, the royals charge as well, and I'm forced to stop them with mamlukes, muwahids, and I throw in another unit of ghazis. Meanwhile, the general with other units charges the center, where my saracens manage to stop him suffering terrible casualties. On the left flank, one unit of ghazis and one of abyssinians make a short work of his halberdiers, but just as they are finishing them off, one unit of arbalests charges them downhill in the rear, so they cannot help the rest of the army. All units fight valiantly, but suffer severe losses due to the low defence. Nevertheless, they take down many of his infantrymen with them. The royals are having a great time slaughtering on the right flank, and muwahids that were trying to hold them rout since they are reduced to 20 men in seconds, and ghazis are in no better shape. His feudal knights charge through his infantry as well, and the right flank is in a really bad shape, so I run two nizaris to help them, while the other two run down to help with the surprisingly resilient arbalests, in order to free up those units for flank attacks in the center. Before nizaris arrived to the right flank, ghazis rout, and only thing that is holding the royals to crash into the back of my lines are 3 surviving mamluks. They die just as the first nizari unit arrives. They get slaughtered by a short charge, and rout in no time. My other units holding his infantry nearby also rout, and all that is holding the main body of his infantry are the 18 remaining abyssinians. The floor is covered with bodies, but his surviving numbers are far greater. I wheel my general to the right flank for morale support, but I was too afraid to commit him since he would die pretty soon against those royals. In the meantime, feudal knights disengaged from the center, and rear attacked those unlucky units still struggling with the now two units of charging arbalests, routing them all, except for the two nizaris that just arrived, and they are not doing well either. The last nizari unit on the right flank engages the royals in a desperate attempt to keep them away from my rear and my general, but achieves little, and routs. Just as they broke, my general started waivering, and the royals enveloped the abyssinians and saracens, my first reinforcements arrive. They are cavalry (no surprise there, huh? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif ), and furthermore these are my own killers: 20 ghulam bodyguards led by a prince who sucked as a commander, but had valour vices, so they have valour 7. Due to the fortunate position of reinforcements flag, they arrive just behind the charging royals, who routed the last remaining abyssinians, and slam into them downhill. Several royals fall immediately, and at that same moment the Sicilian general is killed by my saracens, something I definitely didn't expect to see. His first unit routs, and my second reinforcement unit, armenians, arrive and smash into his infantry below the royals. They break, taking the rest of the units with them, including the feudal knights that reduced those two nizari units on the left flank to 15 men each, and the mopup begins. The 3 remaining royals from that killer unit remain to fight for some time regardless, but are finally driven away with my camels. As all my reinforcements are cavalry (I really hate this bug... ), the routers are caught and executed. His subsequent waves didn't pose much of a problem, and the day is won.
Maybe not the top battle in any sense that I ever played, but certainly a very very tense one. And after all this time spent playing this game, I still feel the same enthusiasm when watching the replays of battles like this one that I felt when I was first discovering the game... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/smile.gif

[Mamushi]

There I was,up to my butt in hand grenade pins,surrounded by the enemy,thought I was gonna die...

(oops,sorry,wrong war story... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/rolleyes.gif )

[Satyr]

Darn I need to start making replays of my good battles. I always forget to do that.

Thanks all. There used to be a player 'Morble' who posted at another site. He, more than once, wrote up an entire campaign in pretty good style. Unfortunately that site is gone and so are his great tales. I would love to read some of those again.

[Mamushi]

Same here,I need to make more replays...of course I have never been one touched by the Muse of the written word. Mayhaps I could forward them to Froggy or Mary,and one of these fair maidens could put pen to paper and commit my blunderings to words? (Just kidding Froggy and Mary,I am a bit in my cups,and am prone to babbling http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wacko.gif )

[hrvojej]

I particularly like that part where Monk is telling the tale in a very pictoresque manner, the reader gets all involved imagining the scene, and then out of nowhere he says that the wall killed 25 spearmen, at which point you suddenly realise that he's still talking about the game. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif
Best read since the tale of the Umarian mushrooms. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/smile.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Yay Loads of new stories Looks like my advertising paid off http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif What a nice suprise to wake up to

To all the new authors thanks for some entertaining reads http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif Very good work.

Mamushi-If you want I could have a look at your replays and try to write them up. I could use the practise. If you are interested post again saying so and I will put up my email. I get tons of spam so I don't want to post it unnecessarily. Oh yes, I have VI so your replays need to be from v2.0 or they wouldn't work.

[The_Emperor]

The one who would be later known as The Crusading Emperor of Spain looked out over his newly inherited lands, his forefathers had driven the Moors into the dust and had conquered all their previous territories into North Africa.

But he was young and inexperienced with no name for himself, and that was reflected in his lack of political influence abroad. (rank 3) He felt insulted that he ruled so many lands and was regarded with such disrespect. So he planned to do something about it, he started with annexing the Rebels in Navarre. That didn't do much for his standing abroad so he decided that only war against another power would help him... and that came soon when the English invaded the Aragonese and were excommunicated by the Pope.

The good and Christian Emperor decided that he should make an example of these upstarts who attacked and eliminated his friendly neighbours, and launched a Crusade from Leon, Home of the Knights of Santiago. Towards the Province North of Navarre. The Crusade gathered pace as the Pious Spanish people rallied to the call. When the Crusade came to Navarre The_Emperor's army joined the Crusade and he Took command personally, and then they marched on the Target province. Faced with the Unstoppable horde of Spanish troops led by the Ruler himself, the defenders did flee the Province... Mostly to Aragon where the King himself was now trapped and cut off with my Forces on three sides and the French to the North.

A second Crusade was quickly mobilised with all the wealth of Spain to crush the English ruler, King John I in Aragon. The General placed in chage of the Crusade was an expert attacker with great prowess, his family line was directly descended from El Cid himself

The Crusade Army was massive, a thousand well-trained troops and volunteers, and they faced off against the Rag-Tag English army which was made up of a few Peasants and mainly Light Cavalry.

When Battle began King John showed his arrogant and impetuous nature and charged our lines with his entire Cavalry force, we met them in the woods... It didn't take long for the English to be put into full retreat, and the King was surrounded on all sides with Spearmen. He fought on Alone when most of his army was either Killed or Captured, or routed back to the Fort. The Kings death would have dire consequences for the English crown, which would suffer a bitter civil war as a direct result.

The following year the Rebel English Survivors in the Aragon fort sent a message saying that they unconditionally surrender the province to the Holy Crusade. For this act The_Emperor spared their lives. The same year, the French came in from the North and the Italians landed with a naval strike... they wanted to crush the rebels themselves and take the province, however they were too late as the handover was already done. But they stood in the way of the Crusade gaining the province. The French quickly withdrew before the battle and left their Italian allies on the field with no retreat. The Crusaders took up a strong defensive position on a hill at the far end of the province, forcing the Italians to march a long way across land and uphill before the battle. The Spanish archers let loose a constant hail of Arrows and that in itself was enough to rout the Italian army before contact was made. The Knights of Santiago and the General then Charged forth to hunt down the Italian dogs as they ran. They had nowhere to run and were captured, but the Ever Chivalrous Emperor allowed their ransom, soon after the Italians sued for peace and we accepted.

The_Emperor was pleased within a few short years he had gone from being considered one of the most uninfluencial rulers in all of Europe to being one of the most respected. And his Piety was considered second only to the Pope himself

His task was not over as he soon turned his attention towards the glittering prize of Egypt and the Holy Land, with another Crusade being mobilised. But his victorious war in the Middle East, is another story...

[Balamir]

He woke up, with a quivering shudder in his shoulders. He gazed up at his tents cloth, raptured by conditions of war. He grimaced, his tent was leaking and it was raining. He raised, armed himself with his recently forged breastplate, mail armor and strapped himself into a sight of cold metal. He seized his helmet with both hands, observed it for new dents, pieces off rust but it was still as clean and beautiful as the day his dying friend Mercius had given him soaked with blood. He found his sword amongst the useless pieces of linen and strapped it on tight. Outside was a world full of pitiful men, young men with no hope of survival, men shivering in the combination of the bitter cold and knowledge of never seeing their beloved ones ever, again in their lives.

The dirt was cold, mud frozen by the chill in the dawn, he proceeded through the tents towards a bigger, more spacious one than any other, guarded by 2 praetorians at the entrance. It was warm inside, in the warmness of the tent there sat a man with a glorious demanour, eyes full of pride of what he had achieved all through his life. His pale face was shadowed by his grey hair, yet his stood still giving a quick glance at the incomer. The man paused, as if trying to recall an occasion. Then his peeked at the man standing respectfully, willing to say something. It is you, my friend Aelius. What is it, that has brought you to the tent of mine?

Aelius replied It is time general, time for us to face our fate. The men are wary, their eyes fearful, winter is striking and thus we cannot stay here anymore.

The man paused again, his eyes glowing with rage So be it We shall march into the enemy and give them something they have never faced before.



Aelius mounted on his horse, he marched through the camp, gathering his company of knights and yet, again he saw the eyes of the young ones, this time, feeling that his eyes were not different from theirs. He knew their time had come, he pitied himself for the situation he was in, he shook his head and tried to push back the thoughts of fear which were so close to reality.

And so they marched, they marched onwards until the sight thick columns of smoke covered their sight. The war had begun. The general, held the counsil of his army, and we hear that the armies of Rome has been cut through and hammered to a retreat. We must be swift yet cautious to reach our allies.

the first sign of danger came three days later, a small block of scouts. They were dark as the evening sky their horses fierce and young. 30 men Aelius thought, or maybe 40.

The two armies met in the march to the north. The terrain was wet, a bleak tone of brown that reminded Aelius of Mercius covered with blood lieing on the ground with his despair wide in his eyes. Yet again he pushed back the thought and glanced up to see the black cloud of marching enemy, maybe 2-3 times larger than their army. He looked at his company, they were grinning to their death, somewhat brave and loyal to the Ceasar to the end. He drew his sword. Nearby was a forest of oaks its branches crowned by ice. It was snowing.

Aelius heard a familiar voice cry Company, Haalt The army stopped. The enemy, irritatingly stopped as well. The legions formed the tortoise formation, and set march slowly while archers drew and loosed. The land and the sky echoed with the faint sound of men falling dead and cold, to meet the ground. The enemy charged with a deafening noise, their feet battering the ground. The legions also charged, this time creating a line only 4 men deep to meet the ends of the thick figure of enemy raging. Aelius ordered his company which were still back enough to avoid glazing eyes, to march into the woods. The galloping of the horses shook the formidable silhouettes of the trees, the cold was almost palpable in the air. When aelius looked to his right, he saw the armies clash, with such a tremendous sound that challenged the might of the thunder god itself. He ducked his head to avoid a dark branch and pointed his sword to the right, towards the enemy cavalry trying to outflank the lines of the Legion. And so they charged into the battle, their rage on their blows shimmering and tearing the enemy apart. Men falling on the blood soaked ground which now was a white texture which reminded him of his tent, cold and leaking. He shuddered as he parried away a swing from his right and thrust forward as his sword penetrated into the enemy's armor and worked through his lungs. The man fell, and his helmet shook, revealing his eyes for an instant, they were dull and black.

It was then that the lines of the legion filled with youthful but fearful farmers broke. He saw that his commander itself was fighting the enemy that pursued their shouting and pleading infantry. To deaath he shouted, knowing there was no return as he entered into the shadow of shouting men. His eyes filled with hate, and his body swarming with heat which felt like it was hell inside him, he thrusted his sword again and again which now was dark with blood. His helmet also covered with blood of his foes, he swung his sword one more time.

His hand released the sword, and twisted into the snow as he too, twisted with the agony that cut through his liver, the sword felt as cold as the fear itself, he fell onto the ground as the sword was pulled back by the owner of his death. His eyes faded and caught the sight of a running crowd coming from the mountains. Was it the enemy? No, it was the ally, the Emperor itself, riding his horse with such a gracefulness and thousands following his lead. Aelius blinked, seeing nothing, he blinked again and he looked next to him, stood Mercius, barefoot and barehanded, holding his sword. Aelius made a move towards his sword, the vision of Mercius faded and disappeared, it seemed to Aelius that he was grinning, and so he too, smiled under the sky which now was glowing under the Victory of Rome.

[frogbeastegg]

Hands clasped in silent prayer Ferdinand knelt on the cold stone floor before the alter. He heard footsteps approach him from behind, they stopped and a quiet cough attempted to catch his attention. Ferdinand ignored this, nothing was so important that it could interrupt his communion with God. Again came the cough, this time louder and more insistent. Ferdinand continued to pray adding in an extra Hail Mary to reinforce his point before he turned and spoke to the messenger. What do you want, why do you disturb my prayers. Holding out a royal badge so Ferdinand could see he was a kings messenger the man said His Royal Highness, King Alfonso the VI wishes the inquisitor Ferdinand Pedro to come before him. He said that it was a matter of urgency and you were to come immediately. Very well replied Ferdinand as he stalked out of the cathedral.

An hour later Ferdinand was ushered into the throne room. Bowing low he asked Your Majesty called for me? Yes I did. I have need of your skills, you are the best Inquisitor in Spain and this matter is too important for anyone of lesser ability. replied the king. You may be aware the new Pope, Innocent the VIII is using his powers to stop warfare in Europe and cause all to live in harmony. He appears to be a most excellent Pope, but sadly this is not the case. Evidence has reached my ears that his acts of piety are nothing more than a facade. Innocent is very devoted to worldly pleasures. He spends most nights so drunk he must be dragged to bed by his cardinals. He eats to the point of gluttony and enjoys the company of women of dubious reputation. Worse still he does not truly believe, we have a Pope who does not believe in God What do you wish me to do my Lord? The inquisition cannot try the Pope - he is Gods representative on earth Ferdinand asked sounding shocked to his very core. It is true that the Pope is elected to office for life, given special protection and privileges and anointed the representative of God. However Innocent is not fit for the job, he is a heretic There is one hope though, the proclamation that authorises the Inquisition states that no one is above suspicion, no one can refuse to be tried. God has provided a way to remove this unfit creature from this most holy office. Will you leave for Rome immediately to end this charade? Ferdinand thought for several long minutes before answering It is Gods will that I go. He has provided the evidence and blessed the inquisition with the intention of safeguarding Christianity from heresy, no matter who commits it. Excellent proclaimed the king, rubbing his hands together There is a ship waiting for you in the port, it will take you to Rome. When your work is complete return here and come before me. May God bless your mission.

Several weeks later Ferdinand landed in Rome and went to the Vatican. I am Ferdinand Pedro of the Spanish Inquisition. I am here to see the Pope on a matter of utmost urgency. You will let me pass. Forcing his way passed the guards followed by the armed escort that King Alfonso had provided Ferdinand found his own way to the Pope. Bursting in unexpectedly Ferdinand was able to see that the King had not lied. Innocent was surrounded by food, more than enough for a banquet even though there were only a handful of men present. The walls and floor were covered in the most expensive looking tapestries and carpets Ferdinand had seen in his life. The Pope himself was dressed so gaudily that it made your eyes hurt to look at him. What is the meaning of this protested the Pope weakly, trying to stand and knocking a roast chicken onto the floor. I am Grand Inquisitor Ferdinand Pedro from Spain. I am here to try you on the charges of heresy. You will submit peacefully or I will use force barked Ferdinand beckoning forward his guards. Do not protest that you are above accusation, I have here the warrant signed by your predecesser stating that no one is above suspicion. The soldiers barged forward, seized the Pope and dragged him from the room.

Several days later after hours of torture Pope Innocent the VII signed a confession and preparations were made for his burning. when the designated day dawned the square outside the Vatican was full of people, straining to witness this historical moment. The condemned man was brought out, chained at hand and foot, and tied to the post amidst a pile of brushwood and kindling. Ferdinand read out the victims crimes I, the Grand Inquisitor Ferdinand Pedro, have found this man, Pope Innocent VII, to be guilty of heresy. He has signed this confession and has been sentenced to be burned at the stake. May God have mercy on his soul. Throughout this speech Innocent was screaming incoherently that he was not guilty, it was all a mistake. He was still shouting as the fire was started. It took nearly 15 minutes for Innocent to burn to death. During this time he alternatively pleaded for aid and cursed the audience. The audience themselves were strangely quiet, usually a burning prompted cat calls and shouts at the very least.

With his job done Ferdinand returned to Spain. As instructed he requested an audience with the king. When he entered the throne room he saw a council of war was taking place, something that surprised him. When he got close enough to see the map he saw that the king was planning an invasion of Aragon. Ah Ferdinand, welcome back. Excellent work, the new Pope, Pious X is much better suited to the responsibilities of the position. said the king vaguely, looking over his shoulder. Sire Ferdinand demanded why are you planning to invade Aragon? They are fellow Catholics, the Pope will not authorise it - you will be excommunicated and all Spain along with you Turning round to look fully at the inquisitor Alfonso replied Pious will not be bothering us, as I said he is well suited to the job. You may go. With this dismissal Ferdinand stormed out of the room.

Angry at how he was used Ferdinand put Alfonso on trial for heresy. It was not difficult to secure a conviction, after all who would argue with the man who had burned a Pope? The next king of Spain was not stupid enough to repeat his father's mistake.

(I don't think this one is very good, it's too hard to concentrate when your neighbor is drilling and hammering so loudly your house is shaking )

[The_Emperor]

It was Dusk when he arrived at the Tavern. He stared out from underneath his travelling cloak at the other patrons. They all had a story to tell, and a past that haunts them...

Here they were, the Dregs of Northern England. Some of them seemd to be rattled when he walked in. He had a reputation that preceded him, and it was very well earned. He walked over to the bartender and got a tankered of mead and then sat down in a darkened corner facing everyone else in the room. Suddenly he noticed a stranger walk in, he was smartly dressed and well mannered in appearance. Must be an Emissarry he thought watching him... The Emissary scoured the room until his gaze fixed upon him. And then he walked over and sat himself down.

Are you the one they call, Guy of Gisbourne? The Emissary asked. Maybe... Who wants to know? he replied. I am a messenger from the King, I bring word that he seeks your services for a very dangerous and lucrative job., Just as long as I am paid in advance. The Emissary then handed a sealed Writ across the table. As Guy opened the document and studied it, the Emissary continued... As I am sure your aware our great and Noble King has been having some trouble with the French, We have always had troube with the French, so whats new?, The King of France has been trying to seal an Alliance with the Holy Roman Empire, He has sent a messenger into the German lands, to try and get their Princess Charlotte to Marry him and secure the future of his line, we cannot allow this to happen, Guy reached the end of the Writ and read the name of the targets. say nothing more, there are spies everywhere these days, tell the King that I will do asks Guy immediately left for Paris, he knew that this was going to be no easy task.

After arriving in Paris he looked over the Palace... he knew that Both the King and the German Princess were inside, and that security would be tight. Guy watched the Rotation of the Guards and followed one on his way back to barracks... Ambushing him in a deserted alley he took his Uniform, this was his ticket inside the outer gates of the palace when the guard changed again.

The King was getting ready for the days events... First he was going to have breakfast and then the wedding ceremony would begin and he would Marry the daughter of the Emperor of Germany. By this marrage a strong alliance would be born and the Germans would join the war against the English.

As he sat down for his breakfast meal, he took solace that somewhere in the palace his bride to be was getting ready for the ceremony... Soon, it will be done he thought, and he clasped his Gobblet, ready to take a sip of wine. He didn't notice the dark shadowed shape in the corner of his eye that moved past his window... He called for the servent to come in so he could have some more wine.

The servent hurried down the corridor as fast as he could the King of France was not to be kept waiting... after being admitted by the Bodyguards he was allowed in and then he dropped what he was holding in utter shock, there in front of him lay the King, bent forwards over his meal his hand still clasping his cup, with a shining dagger in his neck...

When the Alarm was raised the Royal attendents rushed to check on the Princess, but found her laying on her bed in a pool of blood. A bloodstained dagger was sitting beside her on the floor.

A year later Guy was back in England after laying low for a while, but France was embroiled in a bitter civil war since the death as there was no clear heir to the throne... The King of England Decided to re-assert his claim on the French throne by invading. The Germans didn't intervene, they blamed French incompetence for the death of their Princess. A great war had begun...

[Balamir]

All nice stories too I did like the place where the pope was burnt, har har kill him kill him I guess the thread reached its estimation, we have a nice story line moving up. I suggest we can be generals/ assasins/ emissaries that serve the same faction and maybe continue eachother's story? If you guys want we can vote out a king/queen, and the king/queen should be changed once two weeks or more. Let me know all your ideas and we can make this thing a whole conquer the medieval world campaign

[Mamushi]

Since my writing skills are a bit off, I do have ideas... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif How about a running story? Each person write a paragraph,and then another person adds to it (obviously keeping the plot going) who knows,perhaps I can add a bit to this might epic Any takers? I was thinking of starting a different thread for this,ot avoid contaminating our current crop of stories. Sound good?

PS sorry balimar,I did not see you had mentioned the same thing.. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/idea.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/dizzy.gif

[frogbeastegg]

A continuous story would probably work better in it's own topic, a bit like the 'one word story' in the tavern (only less full of spam and the word 'buttcheeks) The hold can continue to house stories like it is now, they are very good reads.

If we can decide on a faction we can have a continuing story of it's attempt to conquer the world. I vote English - the names are easier Plus they are in a good position, have been used by most players and is popular with newbies. If we based it on actual campaign strategies it would serve as an interesting beginners guide.

I'm working on one more. It's a comedy of the funniest battle I ever fought. To give you a taster heres an taster:

Sky blue uniforms, why do we have to have sky blue uniforms? The Welsh get a cool forest green, the Saxons blood red and here we are stuck with sky blue We look as tough as a novice monk

This could be the last one for a while.

It should be finished today, my foul neighbors noisy DIY permitting. (I really hate that horrible man, stupid moron making load noise day and night with his stupid drills,. Hope he drills through a power cord, then he won't be making so much noise my house sounds like a building site. Might be able to have the windows open too if he were fried, wouldn't have the stench of his cigarrettes drifting over endlessly. The whole area smells like a fire in a cigar factory with a large quantitiy of burning tar thrown in. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/mad.gif End Rant )

[Balamir]

I agree on England since they have a good variety value, you can go south or east and maybe overseas. We can keep the warrior hold still as Lady Frog mentioned, because its getting more attraction than I thought it would. If someone is kind enough to shoot the beginning I'll go on with pleasure.

[The_Emperor]

Well if England will be your choice maybe someone should continue my story... The French Royal line has been broken and their faction has turned to rebels and infighting, and the English have invaded. Sounds like something that could be continued.

[DemonArchangel]

well, i'm working on one right now, it should be done by tommorow

[Dîn-Heru]

In the year of our Lord 838 the heathens invaded Dal Riada, seeking plunder and our treasures. Our noble King, Kenneth III, prepared to face the pagans led by their King, Hrafn I. Our proud Scotsmen numbered 241 men, the Vikings numbered 61. But even though numerical superiority was ours, our king and his counsel knew that this would not be an easy battle. The Viking force consisted of seasoned warriors and their leader was a formidable leader and a skilled attacker. Our forces on the other hand, were mere recruits, and our King had only tasted battle a few times.

It was a fine day, too fine a day for the bloodshed that was to come. Our army assembled on a relatively steep slope, overlooking the long narrow valley below. The highlanders waited impetuously for the Vikings to advance, whilst our King prayed that his numbers would be sufficient to win the day.

The Vikings advanced slowly towards our line as the rain began pouring down. Our archers released their deadly hail of arrows. The arrows hailed down on the enemy killing many. As the Vikings approached the archers, our King moved to the right flank, in order to hit the Vikings huscarls on their left flank and rear, whilst 40 horsemen moved to the left flank to charge into the Vikings’ right.

Just before the heathens reached the archers, the brave highlanders charged. A brutal hand-to-hand fight ensued, as our noble King raised his sword and charged into the fray. But then as the horsemen charged into the Vikings’ rear, tragedy struck. Our beloved king fell at the hands of the barbarians. With our Lord’s death, the highlanders turned to flight. The rest of the dead king’s bodyguards, and the horsemen followed shortly after. Our entire army that had stood so valiantly in the face of our foe fled the field. This grim day ended in sorrow for our people.

41 pagans lay dead on the field, at the cost of 121 of our brave soldiers’ souls.

A sad day but with God’s help we shall prevail.

--

Bishop Dub Macarthgail


(footnote: after this Scotland suffered a civil war, and the capital was moved to Brega in Ireland. The Irish re-emerged, but was soon destroyed. Most of Scottish lands that had rebbeled during the civi war returned to their rightful lord a few years later, during a loyalist revolt. The Vikings kept terrorizing Scotland, and still does, but now they have also began pestering us here in Ireland.
But with the aid of our Almighty Lord we shall force the heathens back to Sea from whence they came.
--

Abbott Alexander Macgoulchane of Brega, 860)

[frogbeastegg]

Sky blues the limit

Sky blue uniforms, why do we have to have sky blue uniforms? The Welsh get a cool forest green, the Saxons blood red and here we are stuck with sky blue We look as tough as a novice monk complained Cedric. When king Utha called us to battle I thought we'd get a cool uniform, but no, we get sky blue How lame is that? Shut up Cedric answered his friend Athelraed already tired of Cedrics moaning. There are 3,572 other men in this army and I don't hear any of them complaining so just shut up It's just that I thought we'd look good, I wanted to impress my girlfriend with a uniform but I wouldn't be seen dead in this whined Cedric. Oh I don't think that'll be a problem Cedric, we are going to fight the Vikings you know. They are the best warriors on this earth - being dead will be very easy. said Athelraed nastily. They're only tough because they get to wear silver, now that's a uniform to be proud of muttered Cedric under his breath I'd be tough if I didn't have to wear sky blue

Alright you peasants, listen up shouted a loud, unpleasant voice from nearby. Sergeant Edward was addressing his troops Today we are going to crush the Vikings There are only a handful of them - 160 archers, 76 huscarles and 154 carls. Nothing we can't handle if you follow orders and don't run away I will be leading you so do what I say or else, the king himself has given me this command so don't mess up We will advance with the other peasant units with the spearmen behind us. The urban militia groups will take the flanks. The king and his personal guard will bring up the rear ready to reinforce where needed. Understood? there was an unenthusiastic chorus of yeses right, form up

The peasants formed up as ordered and the advance began. By some misfortune Cedric and Ethelraed found themselves next to sergeant Edward who kept offering cheerful advice If the bloke next to you drops dead just keep going and try not to get too badly splattered with blood, it's a pain to wash out. The Viking archers opened fire as soon as the peasants got in range causing heavy losses. Now that's just not cricket yelled Cedric shooting at us from all this distance, real men fight hand to hand. I'll show um a thing or two Unfortunately his speech was cut off in the middle as an arrow whipped past hitting the man behind him. Eeeww Blood, that's really not nice whinged Cedric. Shut up Cedric replied a tired sounding Athelraed. Bad luck old chap offered sergeant Edward It'll take a lot of washing to get those stains out

Minutes later the peasants reached the Vikings and the melee began. Sergeant Edward charged bravely ahead but was cut in two by a huscarl. Eeeekkk shrilled Cedric I think we should get out of here Athelraed, I really can't fight in this stupid uniform. And I just remembered I took an oath against fighting. And I left the soup on back at camp. And..Ok, Ok lets go agreed Athelraed I don't want to die either At this moment the Viking huscarl took a swing at the unhappy pair while screaming something nasty sounding in Norse. Fortunately Cedric and Athelraed were running away so fast the axe missed.

Gasping for breath the two friends stopped in a wood some distance from the fighting. I think we'll be safe here. Lets watch the rest of the battle, then we can pretend we were in it. suggested Athelraed. Good idea agreed Cedric. And so the pair settled down to watch. The other peasants are getting slaughtered I'm glad we left you know. commented Cedric. Yes Athelraed replied. Look, there go the militia coming round the Vikings flanks. Oh no They're being slaughtered too This is unbelievable There's the king - he's charging into the Viking huscarles, not a very good tactic is it? Oh and he's down, knocked off his horse by a carl. Yes, that's got to hurt Cedric said eagerly He can't come back from that No wait Yes he has I don't believe it the king is back in the action What an incredible man Yes he really is, you don't see much action like that now a days said Athelraed in a strangely annoying voice. Now back to the action. The peasants are really taking the strain, but they are not the top seeds for this battle. That honour goes to the Huscarles, who are making a fantastic effort by the way. They must be exhausted by now and yet they keep on going Spectacular Cedric joined in speaking in an equally annoying voice Yes it really is. However those peasants have got guts coming here today when they can't win, you do have to admire the effort. Oh, and look, there are some of those guts now Lets get a close up of that, yep, they are spilling all over the place. Poor chap didn't stand a chance against that sword Breaking news interrupted Athelraed The Mercian army is running away It's all over now. Well that concluded today's battle, we hope you enjoyed watching. So it's goodbye from me and goodby...No wait they are rallying It's not over We will continue our report after this break

Ok and we're back, welcome to the live coverage of the Big Battle - Mercia V The Vikings. The winner of today's battle will get the handsome province of Lindissi, featuring a fort with added spearmaker, swordsmith and musterfield, also the picturesque abbey on the coast. The looser gets free burial. Anyway back to the coverage Thank you Athelraed. Now the Mercians are back for a second go. Once again the peasants are going in first, great team effort there folks. The Viking archers are out of arrows and are joining the fight this time instead of hanging back. And there's the huscarles cutting a bloody swath through the peasants who are running away once more. There's king Utha, can you see what he's doing Athelraed? Well yes Cedric, I can. The king is charging straight at the enemy general on a borrowed horse Now that tactic has failed once before, I wonder what will happen this time? He's down The king is down again Athelraed is right folks, the king is down His head got in the way of an axe and split open like a melon And once again the Mercians are running away It's all over, the fat lady has sung We will now go to the after battle analysis. Athelraed what did you think to today's battle? Well Cedric I thought it was very brave of the Mercians to enter, no one thought they could win but they still turned up, which is brave any day of the week. But in the end the favourites won, and we must remember the fantastic prize they have won, the province of Lindissi complete with accessories. Personally Athelraed I thought the use of peasants in large quantities was particularly striking, after all they are hardly the standard unit for a large battle. I wonder what prompted that? Anyway I'm getting reports that we are out of time so we will leave you now. It's good bye from me And goodbye from me added Athelraed Until next time. Congratulations to today's victors. We hope you enjoyed watching

That evening Cedric and Athelraed were walking off into the sunset. Athelraed? Why did we start saying all those strange things back in the forest? I've no idea Cedric replied Athelraed, his voice returned to its normal tiredness. And what's a melon? I don't know Cedric Who's the fat lady and why would she sing? I don't KNOW Cedric What about.. Just shut up I don't know either Cedric Just SHUT UP The pair walked in silence for a while until.. I bet they could have won if they weren't wearing sky blue you know. I bet they would have SHUT UP CEDRIC




NB: This battle did actually happen. I was the Vikings (of course ) and events happened as described. The Mercian king did appear to die twice but I guess this was actually the guy next to him rather than the king himself. A unit of peasants camped out in the forest for most of the battle. Cedric and Athelraed are meant to sound like the annoying sports commentators on TV. Hope you enjoyed it

[DemonArchangel]

gimme one more day, mine's gonna be good./

[Mamushi]

No, you cannot have another day...times Up http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

[JohnCee]

This story ended up so long I'm going to have to split it over two posts, sorry

Its (sort of) based on a battle I had when I first started playing MTW but my memory isn't great so I've taken some artistic (yeah right) licence.

Dawn broke and was overcast but for the first time in days there was no rain. Those who were wise in these matters said that the day would remain clear and I hoped they were right. His Lordship, Henry Plantagenet had decided that today we fight and I hate fighting in the rain.

There were those who said this decision had been forced upon him, and truly after three days of waiting for the sky to clear the army was growing restless. Don’t believe these rumblings, I had marched with his lordship through most of Northern France and I have never known him to be shy of a battle nor to accept any decision enforced from below.

So today we went to war, and with God’s help by the end of the battle Lorraine would return to the embrace of its true masters. Be assured God was with us, I admit that the last Pope excommunicated His Majesty, but it is surely a sign that less than two years later God saw fit to remove this wrong-thinking man from office. Have no doubt that it was God, I too have heard the rumours and more sinister explanations; such people are fools with no eye for the works of the Almighty.

Not long after the Sun had cleared the horizon I was sat on my horse surrounded by my brother knights. His Lordship had chosen to muster his forces on the crest of a hill whose slopes were almost entirely covered by a forest, despite its crest being entirely clear (according to my squire, this caused it to resemble the shaven tonsure of a monk). Aside from the hill itself and an occasional copse of trees on the valley below he had chosen a horseman’s perfect killing ground, open and smooth. In the very centre of the hill his Lordship stood with his bodyguard the heavy cloth of his standard moving sluggishly in the wind. My knights were drawn up some yards to his right with a unit of hobliars further still to our right. The hobliars were a new, and strangely weak, addition to an army that had turned an English foothold surrounded by French holdings into a powerful bastion of civilisation in continental Europe. Those brave, or foolhardy, enough to risk his Lordship’s legendary temper and question such an addition were curtly told to “leave strategy to those with the wit to think.” To his Lordship’s left was the perfect mirror of the formation on his right.

There was the moment of stillness that precedes every conflict, like an early pause for breath, then rows of Frenchmen appeared across the horizon, distant enough that their ranks appeared as a blue-grey stain against the overcast sky. Time seemed to crawl as they drew closer but eventually they stopped, several hundred yards out of range for any archer. I could now count standards. It would be wrong to suggest that the initial sight of so many of the enemy did not disquiet me, but such feelings notwithstanding, what happened next was stunning. With a great shout the hobliars wheeled ninety degrees and set off in opposite directions.

At first I thought the cowards had decided to run before even engaging the enemy. The French seem to think the same thing, I could hear faint cheering as the hobby horsemen started running away from the centre of the hill. What the French did not seem to notice was that his Lordship (normally so vocal when a single peasant even wavers in the line) remained perfectly calm.

I soon forgot about the strangeness to my left and right, more urgent matters were taking place in front of me. Without any great fanfare an entire company of Welsh longbowmen had appeared from the treeline and strolled forwards. Clearly Lord Henry realised that with time against us the French would force us to make the first move, and had decided to oblige. Spreading out to form a loose skirmish line the longbowmen started their unhurried advance. While they walked I used my high vantage point to take stock of the French force.
The central mass was formed of infantry; two or three companies of feudal men-at-arms supported by what looked like groups of conscripted peasantry. Four companies of heavy cavalry flanked this mass, two to each side – all feudal knights like myself. Behind these men were several companies of archers and crossbowmen. At the rear was the French commander, although I had not yet learnt his name he was clearly an important man, I recognised some of his mounted bodyguard as French noblemen and minor royalty.

The Welshmen halted at the extreme edge of their range and were loosing a barrage of arrows into the centremost company of men-at-arms. The range had clearly taken its toll on the bowmens’ accuracy but Frenchmen soon began falling under the deadly hail. Mere seconds passed before the French commander, hoping to minimise losses, ordered the infantry into skirmish lines of their own. At the same time a company of knights were ordered to clear the bowmen away.

The French knights began the slow, ordered advance I know so well. First they would walk, closing the distance and conserving energy before the final crushing charge and the inevitable butchery.

Knowing they were no match for knights the Welshmen loosed a final barrage, turned and started running towards the treeline. Impetuously the knights started to charge, far to early but maybe they feared loosing the kill. As the knights raced the bowmen towards the treeline another two companies of longbowmen appeared from the forest and poured concentrated fire into the charging knights.

Bodies of the Frenchmen and their horses started to form a trail behind the oncoming knights, no doubt the losses were more than the French commander would have liked but nowhere near enough to stop the charge. As the knights closed on the first group of Welshmen all of the longbowmen retreated, to be replaced by two companies of billmen. Although the billmen had barely enough time to form up they still stopped the hammer-blow from the tiring Frenchmen.

I was so absorbed in watching the drama I had failed to notice the entire mass of French foot advancing towards the hill. My company was ordered to move further right and prepare to flank the enemy. As I concentrated on relocating my men I lost sight of the conflict below me. From what I could hear initial forays had escalated into full blown conflict.

It took mere moments to move and organise my men but when I looked back the face of the battle had changed completely. The English infantry, a mixed group of billmen and feudal men at arms, had appeared from the forest and was marching determinedly towards the French foot soldiers. The archers on both sides were not standing idle either. French crossbows were working with slow efficiency turning English footsoldiers into so much metal and carrion; in turn arrows from an enormous mass of Welsh longbows were blackening the sky and inflicting massive losses on the French. One set of longbows seemed to be concentrating on the French commander, although the range was very long and none had found their mark yet.

[JohnCee]

And today's lesson is: when cutting and pasting from word don't use the fancy ' or otherwise you end up with words like don’t alternatively I could just preview my posts (serves me right for being lazy http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/mecry.gif )

Anyway part 2
A company of highlanders had charged hard against the flanks of the French knights that had chased our longbowmen and were currently fighting billmen. I had been present at court the day the then-king explained to his son (the present king - long may he reign) why we allowed these men into the ranks.
This is a race ill suited to peace. Since they insist on fighting let them fight for us rather than sit in their highlands dreaming of insurrection.

He was right, the highlanders were fighting like savages. While the billmen had fought the knights to a standstill, the highlanders were turning a fight into a massacre. French men-at-arms were charging in to support the knights but the longbows had found their range and were with for every yard gained five men fell.

With a great roar the mass of foot soldiers from both sides met with a colossal crash of metal on metal. After the briefest of moments men on both sides started to die. As I watched I saw a company of the French knights charged towards a group of English men-at-arms who were already desperately fighting with their French counterparts. The order finally came for us to act and my unit was told to prevent the French knights from striking home. We formed a wedge and started at a walk down the hill, it would be desperately close but as I urged my horse forward I realised that we would either force them to turn or strike their flank. All formation was lost as we passed through the forest but it was swiftly regained at the base of the hill and we were soon close enough to charge. From that moment I lost track of the battle, all I could concentrate on was what I was about to do.

As I anticipated we struck their flank and struck hard. Eight of the enemy fell to our first strike. From there it was the meat-grinder of strike and recover, parry and counterstrike. The surprise of our attack and the force of the charge served us well, within a few minutes we decimated our enemy, having suffered only minimal losses. Suddenly all fight left the French, it seems just as the battle grew thickest the French commander fell to a shot from the Welshmen (surely guided by the Lord God himself) had found its mark. The effect on the French was immediate, groups started to flee the field and before long the only Frenchmen not running were those who were trapped in combat, taken prisoner or already dead. As ever the peasantry had been the first to run, some were halfway to the horizon already, waiting for them was a line that looked like reinforcements. As I charged after the fleeing French knights I glanced around, trying to see whether we were in any shape to encounter a fresh enemy. The situation looked grave, in the centre where the fighting had been fiercest bodies littered the field. Of the English forces the two companies of highlanders had been worst hit I would be surprised if fifteen lived to see the evening, and the company of longbows who had killed the French commander had suffered massive losses, when the Royal knights had charged them in revenge. Even Lord Henry's bodyguard had not escaped unscathed.

Nevertheless we charged, as His Lordship had said early this morning:
The more we kill on the field today the fewer we must face behind castle walls tomorrow.

As we gained ground on the fleeing Frenchmen I realised that Lord Plantagenet truly did not want to rout the French today, he wanted to crush them utterly. The men I had mistaken for reinforcements were in fact our own hobliars. Although weak on the modern battle-line hobby horsemen are fast and his lordship had sent them to sweep up and leftovers hoping to flee the field. I doubt even His Lordship had expected so many runners this day especially, as I later learnt, with the heir to the throne of France having taken the field.

Although a few Frenchmen slipped past us, and many hobilars were lost trying to stop men-at-arms or knights from leaving the field by the end of the day we held the field and every Englishman who died had sent three Frenchmen on ahead of him.

Anyone who got through that lot deserves a medal

[frogbeastegg]

Very nice A highly entertaining read.

And so this topic once again rises from the dead like an unhappy zombie, hurray If the interest is there I may add another to the pot.

[JohnCee]

Go for it, if we post enough they might make this one sticky.

BTW I don't know why new appears in bold and red in my top post, it wasn't intentional

[JohnCee]

Aaaaaand now it's back to normal I think my computer's possessed, does anyone know a good exorcist?

[Satyr]

And we are still waiting for one from DemonArchAngel. I hope that extra day he was taking doesn't turn into a month.

[bighairyman]

this is a short battle and i'm a horrible story writer so........


lord steiner look across the lanscape, the heavy snowstorm last winter has left several feet of snow in the ground.

steiner llok at the dogs that are the picts. the picts had been long allies w/ the vikings, but the king died and the new 26 years old land and power hungry unhing loon sits on the pitcs throne. he has saw the weak position the viking king is in. trapped on a island w/ only 3 landsmen. cutoff
from his generals and heirs. in a firce battle the viking king was killed by the picts crossbow. shoot in the eye, he can't not defended himself against the pict berserkers.

so the young prince haggard became the king of the vikings, and his first task was the sent the best viking general lord steiner to kill the picts.

with 2 housecrals, 3 landsmen, 4 berserkers and a viking cavalry. the 8 star lord steiner invaded the picts. and face more than 900 picts commanded by the pig king himself.

lord steiner at once tell his cats to fire at the pict troops, but they retreat beyond the range of the cats.

lord steiner group himself w/ the housecarls and landsmen adn then group the berskers in to another group. the stuip picts has fallen in to a trap. they have retreated between the woods, thinking the trees will protect their flanks. that was their fatal mistake. lord steiner moved a mercenary unit of mounted nobles to the left wood, and a unit of vking cavalry to the right. lord steiner himself bravlie let the infantys to attack the front middle of the picts line. the berserkers chased down the picts crossbowmen and kill and rout them. the landsmen and housecarls hand2hand w/ the picts infanty. thinking that the picts line is in trouble, the pict king sent his 2 monuted nobles to hold the line. that leave the king alone.
lord steiner order his bersekers to hold the nobles while lord steiner order his mercenry nobles to attack the pict king . the nobles slam full force into the left flank of the king. then steiner order the viking cavalry to hit the king's rear. that seals the king's fate. the viking cavalry cut off the retreat of the king. the picts king plead for mercy but in the end he was killed and his unit ran away like girls.

in the same time the pict infanty broke rank and ran too. steiner led another charge right into the right flank of the nobles. at the same time steiner order his own nobles and viking cavalry to attack the rear of enemy nobles. the nobles also broke rank and fled. the battle was won.

lord ateiner pick up the lifeless body of the pict king and chop of the head. he put the head on a spear and present it to king harrard as a present.


lord steiner was award w/ honors and return him to his province.

but 2 years later. the saxons declare war on the vikings and lord steiner led his army once more for the viking crown.

but that belongs to another story.

the end?

sorry for the spelling

[Gregoshi]

By request I'm pinning this topic. Keep them coming folks

[frogbeastegg]

Victory

King Louis IV of France stared at the map before him. His Empire stretched from Ireland in the west to Antioch in the east. He and his ancestors had conquered everything in their path. The Egyptians had just surrendered to his rule and at last the task begun in 1088 was complete. Louis supposed that he should be happy, even proud to finish what his great grandfather had begun, but the truth was he was not.

There had been four kings in his dynasty, including Louis himself, and between them they had defeated nearly twenty other peoples, crushing their armies and destroying their way of life. There was only one religion now - reformed Catholicism. The orthodox Christians were finished by his father, the Muslims had just capitulated to him. True Catholicism had died with the Pope in the blood thirst of Richard's grandfather. When Louis though of the bloody purges that had followed the conquest of each religion he felt sick. The faithful were hunted down, tortured and killed mercilessly. Holy men were burned or crucified; no one was spared in the rush to convert. Millions stood by their faith until the end but their God had not helped them. No one had helped them.

Libraries had been burned, the precious knowledge inside lost forever in the flames, holy buildings torn down, the local architecture banished to a distant memory as the kings decreed that all must be built in true French fashion. You could travel from Dublin to Jerusalem without noticing a single local styled building or feature. The empire was uniform and united in a single way of life. Louis wondered whether this was the right path, surely keeping some local flavour would do no harm? But it was too late for that now; few could remember their origins outside of the empire. There could be no rebuilding.

Language too was uniform. If you were alive you spoke French. If you spoke another language, just one word, you would die with your tongue torn out. This policy belonged to the dynasties founder Louis I. It had worked well, just like his other barbarous ideas for the Empire.

The Emperor of France did not sleep well despite having the most luxurious bed in the world. Every time he shut his eyes he saw the billions who had died at his dynasties hand. Soldiers both his and the enemy, women, children even animals had been slaughtered to further his families ambition. Silently they accused him of murder and tyranny, haunting him from beyond the grave. In his heart Louis new they were right, he was a murderer, born of a murderer in a family of murderers. His own son was a murderer. Louis saw no end to the endless killing until his family was dead and gone. He wished that he had no son, and then maybe this nightmare would end with him. It was too late for Louis to change the way the Empire was run, at 54 he was just too old. His son Phillipe was set in his ways, the Empire would continue down this path of blood. For a moment Louis pondered having his son killed, it would not be the first assassination in the family, but them he realised there was no one else to leave the throne to; at least no one better.

Louis reflected that while his family had done the impossible the price was so unbearably high the Empire should never have been created. France had conquered the world but it had cost the earth.


Good work Gregoshi, it's nice to see this pinned http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/pat.gif If I'd know you were going to do that I may have stuck my 'Behind the Vices and Virtues' series in here instead of creating a separate topic. Oh well I guess it reads better as one single story clumped together anyway.

[DemonArchangel]

it just may turn into a month. I'm really busy right now... but still, here's a little sample.

You're mad, said one of his advisors, and Dandolo ordered him to be boiled in oil.
Do you realize that we don't have the resources to launch such an invasion? said another advisor, and Dandolo also ordered him to be be boiled in oil.
Your excellency, stammered his Admiral of the Fleet, our ships are clearly inferior to those of the Byzantines. And Dandolo ordered him to be boiled in oil as well.
And thus in a rather short period of time, most of Dandolo's advisors were fried to a golden brown crisp...

[Lehesu]

There once was a man from Nantucket,
who kept all his squirrels in a bucket.
They went as they pleased,
and ate all his cheese,
but as for [insert name]'s mother,
she just sucked it.

Thank you.

[plzhelp]

:hits a few on the bongos:
Ok, enough hippy rhyming. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif

[terryblack825]

Wow al those stories were really good I have'nt played MTW in like a month but after reading some of these posts I think i might just start a new campaign and post my own story.

[frogbeastegg]

I thought I'd add this story to the collection since it kind of started this whole topic http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif It was originally in the 'Just how bad are you?' topic. It's the story of my first experiences with Shogun: Total War back when it first came out. I've fixed up some minor typo's.


Frogbeastegg: An epic tale of a young frogs quest for glory and knowledge.

Many years ago in the land of strange weather a young frog was seeking to become a master of strategy. The frog had studied under many masters including master Alpha Centauri and at the famous school of Age of Empires. But none of these masters could satisfy frogs desire for knowledge. As the frog wandered once again in search of a master she met a strange man under a tree. Upon asking his name she was told

I am battle trainer. A demo of the great school of Shogun: Total War. I can teach you what you wish to know.

The young frog was curious and asked what the school of Shogun was like, as she had never heard of it before.

It is a new school introduced by a mysterious stranger who is only known as CA. CA has created new teachings the like of which has never been seen upon this earth. Shogun teaches real time battles combined with turn based strategy, complete control of every aspect of your clan, hundreds of units battling at once using realistic principles based on the legendary Sun Tzu.

This greatly interested the young frog and she asked to become a student of Shogun. Battle trainer replied thusly

To become a student of shogun is not an easy task. You will learn to do things you thought impossible. You must learn to understand the land, the weather, ancient samurai equipment and practise. You will learn to understand a soldier’s heart. But there is a price - once you enter the school there is no going back. All other schools of strategy will seem as mud beneath your feet, you will only play Total War games.

The frog thought this sounded strange but she was still determined to enter the school. In her first lessons with master Battle Trainer young frog learned that height is the most valuable feature of any battlefield. She learned that archers could both shoot and enter melee combat by use of the 'ALT' key. She learned to understand her men's feelings and physical state. The final and hardest lesson was to understand a small skirmish between two identical and evenly matched armies. In this challenge the frog manoeuvred her spears to meet the enemy cavalry, her archers to shoot the enemy spears and her cavalry to destroy the opposing archers. The victory was great and the young frog could not wait to learn more. But master Battle Trainer said

No more can I teach you for this is the limit of my programming. To learn more you must study under my master the great Full Game.

And so the young frog set out to the great EB in town and there purchased the Shogun Total War and got the Prima strategy guide free. Well it was the day of release and therefore a matter of great rejoicing. After reading the books her new master presented her with frog began learning the Way of Shogun. And it was not easy.

The great master began with the same lessons that his disciple had and once again the frog completed them. The over confidant frog them requested to try the full campaign game as her battle knowledge was great. The master considered this for many minutes before agreeing that she had much to learn that only the campaign could teach. This is how the first true lesson began: the lesson of Hojo.

Frog chose clan Hojo for her first game as they were purple and had the Triforce as their logo (the frog was deeply in love with Zelda: Ocarina of Time which she still calls the best game ever today). Frog surveyed her domains and ordered that construction begin on castles in all provinces. New units of archers were added to the build list and the frog was well pleased as she clicked 'end turn'. Frog them watched in horror as the Takeda invaded Musashi (But that's a rush attack, how cheap the frog was heard to cry). As the battle began the frog lined up her archers on her side of the bridge and waited. The enemy came in force with much cavalry and charged the bridge. While the archers shot bravely and the single unit of spearmen charged the enemy continued to forge ahead until the frog’s army shattered and fled like children. Frog was heard to say

Samurai Not likely. Cowards Get back here before I kill the lot of you. What happened to dieing gloriously in battle, don't the samurai say death before dishonour.

At this point master Full Game stepped in and said

It is worthless to die in a pointless battle. Victory must be provided by the general before the men will commit to dieing on the field. When victory is invisible even the best samurai does not consider it a dishonour to run. Therefore make sure that you have the correct numbers and types of troops in each army to handle all opponents and situations. When the men see that they can win they will fight much harder. When they are out numbered two to one they become worried with a penalty to morale.

And so the young frog tried to continue with the campaign but found that money was gained only one out of four turns and only one army/building could be constructed at a time in a province. And this puzzled the frog as all other schools of strategy gave you money at each turn. The master explained

Wealth is measured in koku, the amount of rice needed to feed a man for one year. Rice comes only with the autumn harvest. In other schools a single peasant may build a mighty castle in only minutes but in our school thousands of peasants will labour for four seasons to produce a castle. This is the way of Realism.

And so the young frog gave up on the campaign and returned to the custom battle. She devoted herself to learning as much as she could of this one aspect of Total War. The work took many weeks and the frog learned much. There was much more to unit relationships than spears beat cavalry beat archers beat spears. Warrior monks would beat anything else in hand to hand but were vulnerable to missiles. No Datchi were cheaper warrior monks with similar uses and weaknesses. Heavy cavalry could beat spears if they charged them from behind and stood a reasonable chance against warrior monks in battle. Naginata were the ultimate in defence but could not kill quickly. Honour was the most valuable commodity on the field of battle as it gave +1 attack +1 defence +2 morale for each point. However several units still eluded frog. What was the point of ashigaru, guns. yari cavalry and cavalry archers? Each of these units was unable to perform in a useful manor and frog still winced when she remembered the charge of three units of yari samurai in a great battle. They had galloped quickly at the enemy, halted just in front of them before turning tail and fleeing the field before combat began. These units were therefore classified as useless.

The frog also studied Japanese during these long weeks as her new master often confused her with terms like yari, naginata, shogun, mon, koku and Daimyo. And as the weeks passed frog found she could understand her master with ease.

Then one morning master Full Game suggested that frog was now ready to play a true campaign game. This time the frog considered clan bonuses, province wealth and position, strategic positioning and easy of play before choosing the Shimazu clan. Frog immediately began producing yari and archers in equal quantities before crushing the Imagawa foothold on her island inside of 6 turns. She was heard to say Eat that at this moment of victory. The Mori clan had an alliance with the Shimazu but displayed that they had no honour when they broke it and attacked Nagato forcing frog to withdraw her small garrison without battle. This was the Lesson of Honour

Honour is everything to a samurai but a Daimyo will not hesitate to break an alliance and his word if he sees a chance for gain. Honour exists in name only with only a few holding to it. Beware of these men as they will commit sepuku if they loose a battle depriving you of an able commander.

And frog learned this lesson well. She built up her farmlands in provinces with more than 200 koku income and extended her castles into mighty fortresses capable of producing the best troops. Then she struck at the rebel island to the east capturing it in 4 turns. The Mori had crushed the Takeda and met up with frog on the isle of Awaji. And frog did say

What goes around comes around

And she destroyed the Mori giving her control of a quarter of Japan. By this time the Hojo had taken the rest of Japan and so frog fought them for control, slowly driving them back until one fateful battle. The Hojo had built many guns and the day of battle was fine with fair weather. The landscape of the field was quite flat and the frog found that the guns were highly effective as they destroyed a significant part of her army. Enlightenment struck

To use guns you should place them in three rows. In this way the front rank will fire and then retire to the back to reload. This increases the speed of fire. Flat ground is the ally of guns ad they cannot fire in arcs like bows nor can they aim very high or very low. Provide a row of gunners in front of your army and they will shoot at the enemy when they close causing many casualties and much fear. If the enemy get too close charge your infantry at them while pulling your guns back. Rain is the enemy of guns. A single drop will decrease their firing rate and accuracy. A down pour will make them useless.

The final battle was drawing close and frog had powerful armies of high honour troops with the best upgrades. The Hojo had massive armies vastly outnumbering her but they were made of lesser units so this was not a problem. The final battle took place on a mountain in a thunderstorm. Fighting raged for two hours and in the end more than 10,000 brave warriors lay dead. Frog had won.

But the learning did not stop there for frog found a place called 'the org' in the back of PC Gamer (UK) magazine and she did visit with much curiosity. There she found tactics for using yari cavalry and peasants which were effective but she still did not favour these units. Cavalry archers may be effective for some but the frog always found that they required baby sitting and so they also found no favour.

The frog also completed many other campaigns and found new strategies. She tried the Geisha unit and found the cutscenes to be hilarious, especially the one where the geisha played a 'guitar' for a while before smashing the victim over the head with it.

After many years of training the now old master Full Game died, killed by the devious Microsoft Direct X 9, which caused him to emit screeching noises and flicker badly. And young frog found that master Battle Trainer was right, all other schools of strategy were as the gibbering of idiots. However the great CA introduced a new school of strategy based on the Shogun style, they called it Medieval: Total War and the frog did study under this school too. The frog still mourns the passing of master Full Game and wishes she had not been challenged to a game of Age of Empire II by her boyfriend.

[Monk]

1142, it had been 40 years since the war had started between the Spanish and the Almohads, and neither side was any closer to victory than the other. for the last forty years, thousands upon thousands of brave soldiers fought and died over the same peice of land. The war had been draging on so long nobody could really remember why it was started in the first place. The Almohads had not been idle in this time of war with the rest of the world. It was said that they now had Egypt and all the lands up to the Byzantine Empire.

However...in 1145 one side was finnaly able to gain the upper hand, the Spanish. It had taken many years but with a number of Crusades raging through the Almo's Eastern provinces the Spanish knew that this was their time. They convinced both the French and the Aragonese to send their forces into North Africa to assist in the assualt, they never did, making the coming battle all the more difficult.

It was a pale sky as dawn crept out from night and the morning fog drifted in. the Spanish crossed over into Cordoba to meet the Almohad forces there, as they arrived on the field they found their Islamic Enemies waiting their arrival. With near the same amount of soldiers as the Defence force the Spanish general Grew uneasy.

have we really traveled all this way just to suffer another defeat? he thought to himself, as he ordered his men to stay their ground. The almohads sat upon a great hill guarding the way into the province, Trees surounded the areas back the way the spanish had come and a lone high mountain was near to the exit of the Battlefield. Then, there was a great silence, the Two armies stared at each other over the imence plains. Then without warning the Spanish general Drew his sword and with a great yell he shouted his war cry and he led the charge of his troops.

The Islamic Soldiers held up their sheilds and prepared for the attack, the spearmen readied their spears, the Bowmen lossed their arrows and let them fly into their enemies ranks. Then, the Almohad general, perhaps with a thirst for blood, charged his men off the hill and met the Spanish with a great clash the men of both countries fought for what seemed like hours. Man and horse alike falling to the sword and spear.charge after chage and wave after wave of reinforcements the two sides continued to battle, and yet they remained dead even.

The battle raged on seeing The Proud son of the Spanish King killed in combat, however, fortunatly it was not him leading this army. With a third charge from the Knights of Castile the Right flank broke and fled. However, with the right broken, the left only fought harder. They managed to keep the Spanish at bay for what seemed like an eternity before they were finally forced to fall back. and the only thing that was able to break through their defence was the death of their general at the hands of the Spanish Men-At-Arms. now in complete rout the spanish general ordered what was left of the calvary to go ahead. The sounds of their hooves upon the land shook the ground as they thundered into what remained of the Almohads kiling many hundredes.

When the fog had completly cleared, and the mist left the battlefield. and the Sun finaly rose up high one could see the field of combat which had just be fought, thousands of corpses strung out throughout the field like brown leaves in the fall wind. The Spanish general took off his helm, and looked at those who had died. Thousands dead on both sides today alone, and perhaps hundredes of thousands from the war. He gathered what soldiers he had left and led them in a prayer. They held in silence for those many lost there, they waited for reinforcements to arrive then they moved on.

The war did end, ten years later. it had taken 40 years of fighting for one side to even take a province, afterward the Almohads were defeated once and for all at the battle of Tripoli, there the spanish ended their conquest and settled for the role of a trader nation. but none have ever forgotten what happened on that day, many years ago...

[theadept]

i have A short http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/smile.gif HUZZAH http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/smile.gif story:
the sun rose on the castle His Royal Holiness The Grand Emperor The Pope The Great Nick The Conquerer's army and caught sight of the enemy. The great general, Nick, bellowed orders to his men, CHARGE
twas a great day for that glorious army. They laid pursuit and killed all three of the enemy without a single loss.

[karmastray]

Hello.. my first post here, although I am grateful for all the good information I've found on this site

The English king wiped the heavy sweat from his brow and looked out over the dune-spangled landscape. Tunesia in summer was not the ideal place for a campaign..compared with the rainy forests and grasslands of the home isles it was truly hell. But...he had erred.. he carried the weight of a heavy burden on his shoulders: Following many of the great conquerers the world had seen, his grasp had far exceeded his reach. His armies were stretched thin over an English Empire that stretched from the savage Ireland to the forests of Poloand and Novogorad and down across North Africa and the amazing Holy Land. His front line, battle hardened units were all here in Africa while the heart of his empire was guarded with fresh recruits.. truly strong units, to be sure, but without the wisdom of previous warfare or the disciplined spirit of veteran troops.
So the king sat on his steed under a harsh African sun and mourned for his fallen Empire. He'd ignored the Almohads for too long. As they swept through Spain and into Europe. As they crushed the Holy Roman Empire, he traded with them and made much profit.. Profit was so futile right now, he thought. He'd been wrong all his life, he'd ignored the one and only true god. The infidels They will pay. He swore this oath.. replaced the steel helm on his head and waved to his commanders.
Though most of europe..including the remnants of his own European provinces (Anjou, Normandy, Brittany) would soon fall to the infidel, and the fact that the Byzantine empire took no interest in this at all and was happy to co-exist with the Moslem invader (ohhh, dire mistakes)the English king would use what was left of his lands to harass and, hopefully, kill as many infidels as he could...
With a few existential thoughts in his head, the King led his army into battle once more against the despised Almohads, hoping to cut his way up into Spain and then retake his european empire. Sword held high he and his royal body guards charged the flanks of the Almohad battle line.. and was promptly killed by a volley of Arbalest fire. After which VI was installed making any chance of trying to salvage the glory-begotten English Empire impossible (thank god for that). http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/joker.gif

[Gregoshi]

http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/joker.gif Greetings karmastray. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif Welcome aboard...despite the fact that you took my idea for a story. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif Your telling was better than what I had in mind though.

BTW, I'm glad you are finding our site/forums useful.

[Monk]

To Valhalla i Ride part 1 of 3


The Trees were soaked with the morning rain and the sky opened up as the sun shown through creating a golen haze of light. The light came down and shown upon the Sheilds and armor if the Vikings, the land swept down into a valley and in the center there was a lake, surrounded by forests on either side. King Cnut I of the Vikings looked out across the shinning lake and saw two armies massing on the far side. He turned to his son Erik and said you must leave my son

i cannot abbandon you father argued Prince Erik as he held his shining axe. I wish to fight along side of you.

Yes i know answered his father, But if both of us fight here, then our people will be without a King. i can tall you now i do not expect to live through this battle but i will not run away from my enemies.

alright... Erik finally agreed

Go now my son Fly with the speed of the Valkries and return with more men it is now your job to lead our people

Prince Erik took his bodyguards numbering at 51 and left the field, he had acomponied his Father on a 3 year campaign raging through the territory of the Mercians. finally they reached Meirce and met a combined army of Northumbrians and Mercians. It was here that the fate of three nations would be decided, Erik hated to leave his father to fend for himself there. however, he understood his father's choice. When he had left the field of battle, The Viking King raiesed his axe high and shouted to his Men, Let us fight with honor today Let the Gods see our Valor and let our enemies shake in fear

The Vikings errupted into several bursts of warcries. shouting curses to the Mercians and praises to Odin, and when their chants fell silent. Thor opened the Sky and let poor the great rains, he Cracked thunder above them and smiled as he looked upon his followers. The rain fell in sheets drenching and covering everything within sight, although there was only a small army of 200 Vikings present opposing the 1000 joint force, they harbored no fear.

Across the field within the Mercian lines, horses reared up in fear and men trembled where they stood. some began to drop their sheilds saying things like God has abandoned us they cursed their king for bringing them there untill a shout was let out from the Northumbrian lines. The King of Northumbria was also present at the battle, he unsheaved his great sword and thrust it forward. Now is our time forward we ride my soldiers To victory

The Lines of Both Mercia and Northumbria sprung out of their ranks and charged down the hills and around the great lake. the Viking King Cnut smiled, raised his axe, and with a voice that all heard, even his enemies, shouted Valhalla, We are coming, the 200 Vikings Lept from their forest and charged forth. The three armies drew closer and closer untill they finally met, and when they did it was some site to see. The Vikigns slashing through the Northumbrian Fyrdmen, the Berserkerjarls laughing as they swept through the Knights of Mercia, and at their lead was King Cnut of the Vikings. And on they fought leaving nothing but the bodies of their fallen foes behind them.

In the midst of the battle two great kings met, the King of Northumbria and the Great Viking King. Harold as he was called shouted over the growing sounds of battle You i will take your head today as a prize It will serve as a warning to all those who follow your ways The King of the Vikings gave a haunting and menacing laugh at the threat. he then spoke, and when he did he was filled with both joy and pride, all who beheld him knew he was ready to die Take my head? he shouted swinging his axe and smashing the head of a nearby spearman. No no you have got it wrong he turned round and decapitated another fyrdman, If either of us should die it shall be you

Harold of Northumbria Swung his sword to his left andcut through a Landsman of Hordaland. His blood spirted up and covered a bit of the King's armor, he then charged his horse forward towards the Viking King. Cnut sprinted toward him slashing as he went along, cutting down many on either side. when finally the two met Harold swung high but Cnut dodged, swung his axe round and killed his horse. Harold fell to the ground with a broken leg and looked up on Cnut. when he did so the light seemed to shine down upon the Viking, his Axe held above his head it came down. Harold closed his eyes and said god be with me. he was killed upon the spot where he lay.

The Viking King turned and killed yet another man of northunbria, then realizing their King was dead, all those of Northumbria ran. Fateless cowards the Cnut said as he whiped the blood from his helm. he turned and noticed that one of his good friends, ah just struck down the Mercian King. He shouted a celebration, but before he could do anything he was slashed through the heart by an advancing Line of Huscarls of Saxony. Cnut drew what little men he had left and rallied them forward, upon entering combat with the Huscarls Cnut lept from the ground and landed his axe in the head of one of his attackers. Those left with him doing there best just to survive, kept on fighting. Cnut charged forth and killed many more as he was accompanied by his guard, of which only 7 were left. however they soon found themselves gravely outnumbered.

Cnut Ordered what was left os his men to fall back to the forest, many died attempting to get there. Only a small number of 20 made it to the tree line. with the advance of the Mercian line Cnut ordered everyone to hold their ground. When the last of the two forces met many fell, the final berserker fell to the ground and died upon the met. The last of the Landsmen met their end a short time later, and all that was left was 2 guards and the King Cnut. Cnut swung his axe high but while he did was slashed through the stomach by another warrior who had escaped his glance. the last Viking Huscarl did not run, he stood by his fallen master and met his end much the same way.

On the voyage back to his homelands Prince Erik looked up into the sky and said i will join you someday father.

[karmastray]

Quote[/b] (Gregoshi @ July 17 2003,23:59)]http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/joker.gif Greetings karmastray. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif Welcome aboard...despite the fact that you took my idea for a story. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif Your telling was better than what I had in mind though.

BTW, I'm glad you are finding our site/forums useful.
http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif Hi, thanks Yes, the information is extemely helpful here, it surely helped me to destroy my first (well, second, my first attempt at the game with the Turkish set to hard ended pretty quickly) empire http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif

Anyhoo.. I just reread my post from the other night.. heh, I must remember not to post when tired Here's another funnnnn story.

'The desert again', the Spanish king thought to himself. 'Why do I feel as though I have lived through this before?' He and his main army, 700-odd of the best fighting men in all of Europe (or North Africa which, coincidentally, was where they were right now)had ripped the Almohad kaliphate from Spain and were now pursuing them across the barren landscapes of Cyrenica, their last held province.

From his lofty perch on a rocky, sandswept hill set majestically above the sky-blue waters of a small Oasis, the king felt the pride of conquest swell his heart. Through the past five years he'd taken all of the provinces previously held by his bitter enemies, and now he was poised to finish them in a delicious coup de grace. He laughed to himself.. his reconquista had finished years ago, and now this new conquest was almost over. He was nearing his mid-fifties, and had it in mind to retire the throne to one of his many sons (who says warfare isn't an aphrodisiac, his wife had been popping a kid out a year for the past six) and live out the rest of his life without having to raise his sword arm in anger ever again (although he was worried at the fact that many of his contemporary colleague warlords seemed to all be dying at the age of 56).

Down amongst the front battle line of the Spanish army, just in position for the coming assault against the last of the Almohads, a few of the veteran soldiers were gazing up at the silohuette of the king on the hill. Many loved the man that had led them to liberate the southern part of Spain, and loved him more that he had not faltered and led them straight into the heart of the infidel. Spanish zeal was high for the head of the Moslem that had held captive their beautiful native land for so long, and here he was, finally, leading his own troops into battle against them. The Almohad Kaliph Ali Damned heretic Doomed infidelSpirits were high, many of the men though they knew hundreds of lives were to be lost both Christian and Moslem in the coming fury, were happy to be here at this moment, for they knew God was with them.. with them all the way across Africa if need be

The order came.. (mumble mumble) Intensity (heh) The battle lines began to move forward with one spirit. Heavy and light cavalry flanking with archers and the kings unit taking up the rear. The enemy held a small rise, with his infantry around him like a shining wall of blades. Behind, the frontline troops could make out archers readying their bows. Arrows began to whistle in upon the glorious Spanish army, but to no avail The men were protected with shields, bucklers and some with heavy coats of mail. Few men fell, and the army kept up their doomful approach, their mailed feet, in the king's mind, echoing the pyhrric measure of the ghosts of the Roman legions which haunted the area.

With a great roar, the two companies of mercenary viking soldiers which made up the left flank of the Spanish army suddenly charged from the lines and fell upon the waiting
moorish soldiers. The rest of the line, still with missiles raining down upon them, kept up their measured approach and drew quarter against the opposing army.

The battle was quick... the enemy began to run almost as soon as the Spanish engaged. Spanish jinettes and mercenary calvary quickly took the rear of the Almohad army and slaughtered their archers, then began to charge the rear of the defending moslem units. The Spanish king laughed to himself.. it was over, he'd won the day Suddenly he saw his nemesis... Kaliph Ali in the flesh, with his unit of slave horsemen, riding down upon those strange viking norsemen at the left flank of the epic battle. Not one to stay out of the fight, the Spanish king rallied his own unit and galloped out to meet the infidel and put his death to him. He and his mounted knights rode through a throng of retreating giant norsemen and clashed up against the ghulams of Ali's guard. Hundreds of arrows whistled through the air, the screams and clangs of combat all around the king reared his stead to stamp the life out of a screaming saracen soldier. Knights fell...Almohad bodies littered the ground as more arrows poured in to the confused melee. Vikings with panic in their eye seemed to be everywhere, but the Spanish king blindly made his way through the battle and found Ali and 3 of his ghulams amidst a swath of dead spanish.

Rage in their eyes, the Almohads spotted the Spanish King and, seeing revenge for all their lost glory, charged against him. Steeling himself to meet death, the king, alone, charged the infidel prince. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, his eldest son and the remainder of his knightly retainer charged against the doomed kaliphs flank. As the 4 moslems went down under the lances of the charging knights, the Spanish king was sure he caught the look of redemption and forgiveness in the kaliphs eye... but he could've been wrong.

The battle won and the dead cleared away, the Spanish had a new holy day A day of great feasts and much drinking.

The next year, on his way home to retire to a life of drinking and leisure, the Spanish King died at the age of 56, never having seen his homeland since he started out many years prior. All the people of Spain mourned his passing... and the quote he so often uttered during battle is still heard on the streets of many Spanish villages and barracks... Kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out.
http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/mecry.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/joker.gif

[Monk]

To Valhalla I Ride part 2 of 3


When Price Erik arrived on the shores of his home he was greeted with open arms. The news of his father's death had reached Norway before he had and Erik was declared King of the Vikings in 839 A.D.

As dawn rose up out of the morning mists King Erik awoke from his sleep. he looked out upon the land and saw the towns people busy running around conducting trade and daily life activities. Erik gave a small smile, then he dressed in his armor and cap and entered the main hall of the Keep. passing through various corridors he finally reached the war room, it's great wooden doors had been left shut. Inside he could hear the debates of his generals about what their next move should be

We cannot stay idle a voice shouted as he walked across the room. Lord Cnut has Fallen, we Must raise up a new army and avenge his Death Erik stood standing for a moment, thinking of his fathers last words to him. It is your job to lead our people Return with more Men he lifted his head and swung the great doors in. All conversations stopped and all eyes were pointed towards him, his black cape flew up as he walked in the room, his chain armor glinted in the flames flickering within the hall. He made his way over to his throne and sat down upon its golden surface. All those within bowed to him and continued their discussions, the King sat in silence for a few moments listening to his generals' search for an answer.

Some wanted to raid in the north and gain greater funds before attacking the Mercians again. Others argued Lord Cnut should be avenged before all else, as he listened Erik began to make his plan. Around fifteen minutes of bickering passed before he spoke again. He rose from his throne and walked over to the large map of Britain, upon it was marked points of which were heavily defended. One of these points was meirce, The capitol of Mercia and the place his father along with 200 brave warriors were killed and taken to Valhalla.

Recall our Northern Raiders. Erik finally spoke pointing toward pict territory.

my lord at once. answered Sigurd, the defender of Norway.

We will raise a new army of 1000 strong, Erik continued Huscarls, Landsmen, and Carls of our people will all be let in and trained for battle. The 400 raiders of the North comprising of Berserkers and a mix of landsmen and Huscarls will join us in our attacks. We will set sail as soon as our new troops become trained, the plan is simple, we will hit the Mercian territories and hit them fast, but unlike my father who swept into Meirce, Our strategy is to destroy their economy and make them come to us. Hopefully that will draw out their king, if it does not then i do not know what will.

Erik ended his plan and returned to his throne, his generals bowed and got to carrying out his plan.

1 month later his great general of the North, Hestein, was battling the Picts in the Province of Fib. However before his messengers could reach him all 400 of his men were killed in combat. 2 days after the battle the Viking messenger who was sent to retrieve Hestien found his journal among the carnage and battle scared lands. He rushed what he had found back to his King. as he entered the Great Keep the Guards stopped him

Where dost thou go so much in haste? they asked holding their axes and swords at close hand.

I have urgent news i must deliver to the King he answered. The Guards lept from his path and let him pass, running now as fast as his feet could carry him the messenger reached the War room in which Erik sat upon his Throne. Falling to the ground panting for breath he held up the book, Erik rose from his throne slowly and ordered that the man be given quarter and water. The Book was handed to Erik, and when he opened it he was shocked as it was the Journal of his general. As he read it he closed his eyes and spoke if only i was there..., and so he began to read the book to his Generals but he only read the last pages, which were not written by Hestien. it said upon the first page he looked at it was written by a Monk who had watched the battle from afar, i hope that one will find this book and take it to the Viking lord so that he may know his men's fate.

The Battle of Fib took place on cold April day in which 400 Vikings took to the field against an army of Picts twice their size. When i arrived here i saw the Vikings standing upon a hill top, holding their weapons and shouting praises to their Gods, i must say even though i did not fight i felt afraid of what they might do. The Pict army comprising of celtic warriors, Crossbowmen, Fyrdmen, and a number of Mounted and Dismounted Bodyguards. However, even though greatly outnumbered the Vikings showed no sign of fear, instead they laughed at the Picts and shouted curses in their own tongue that even i could not understand. the Viking general came out from the Ranks of his army and shouted across the Field, in English i believe it was.

I myself was to far to hear what he said clearly, but what ever it was he himself bestowed fear upon his enemies. After saying his remark he disappeared back into his Unit of soldiers, so much alike they looked in armor i could not tell if he was in front of behind. The Picts then slowly advanced, they were not sure if they wanted a fight with the Vikings this day, but their King drove them on. as they got closer, the sky parted of all clouds and the sun shown down upon the fields. I felt that God was with the Picts this day, however it appeared that the Sun was short lasting as it soon faded into the clouds. the Pictish Crossbowmen stopped and began firing their bolts into the Viking Lines, even with the onslaught of the bolts the Vikings made no move. Then as the Celtic warriors were positioning themselves for a charge, I heard a great cry come from the Viking general.

'Onward my brothers let us die together' and with that the Vikings charged down the hill, swords and axes being thrown up in the air, they came crashing down finding their mark within the heads of the Pict warriors. The brutality of the fight horrified me as i watched, and yet i could not find the will to leave. I was trapped with fear, the Viking Landsmen they were called cut a path through the right flank and in poured the huscarls led by the general Hestien. I wanted to look away but i felt compelled to bare witness to this battle, and on they fought. Grinding their way deeper and father into the Pict lines, Hestien himself met up with the King, his axe somehow shone greater than his soldier's weapons as he swung it in circles cutting down any man who was foolish enough to challenge him. But as the Picts were pushed back, something happened, the King drew his men back near a forest. and when the Vikings came up the hill towards the forest to finish him off, a great thunder was let out. The a cavalry force of which i could not count appeared out of the trees and hit the Vikings on the flanks

Hestien attempted to drive his men through them but he was not successful. As he battled, a sword came down upon his helm and struck him down. and there stood over him the heir to the Pictish crown, the Rest of the Vikings however fought on, never running from the enemy they fell upon that hill. And as i watched the Final landsmen fell to his knees and was cut through his chest. I bowed my head and prayed for the souls of those men who fought to the bitter end. yet the Pict King did not celebrate, this battle had cost him 782 of his finest soldiers. upon the land was erected a great monument to both his soldiers that had died and to the Vikings. after which i read it said

'Upon this soil the battle of Fib was fought between two great men, Hestien and his 400 Vikings and King Aether of the Picts with his 900 men. the battle raged like fire from the Sky, and even though we the Picts have won this battle, he have gained a new Respect for the Vikings. may they rest in Valhalla for their Deeds.

The book ended with the Signature of the Monk, Erik gravely smiled and laid the book down. We Shall have to change our plans he said after a moment, May our Brothers Be With Odin now He raised up a Mug of beer to his generals, as they did the same the doors of the War room were shut and the Day's light faded from the land.

[Lord_PH]

the territory of the russians are in turmoil. revolts, riots, revolution, heretics, pagans of all kind. the russian army is small, baely enough to survive the long winter ahead that has been every year. only a small fraction of the insignificant army of the russians are the war-worthy boyars. armed with bow and sword, they are a deadly and fearsome foe. many of their weaponry that they carry into battle are already blood-stained in the thousands upon thousands of rebels' throats and hearts that has been unmercilfully slashed as blood oozes out like hot lava. they alone can stop the rebels from proclaiming their own independence from our once proud land of the grand prince. However, there is a greater enemy that has emerged, as if it emerged from the very depths of hell themselves-the barbarious mongols...

The Golden Horde, as they say, has been hailed and rumoured as an unstoppable wave of terror, slaughter, pillage and destruction. entire cities fall and crushed, once proud armies have become bloodbaths and worthy kings and princes now have their heads pierced on the end of a blood-stained pike. already from the news and the experiences that it seems that the swarm of the mongols will end the flowering of the civilised christendom and leave our magnificent empires torn, barren and wasted.

the russians are the first to fall under the trample of the horde...or will they?

the great prince Vladmiver saw this pest and saw his service to the people of russia. he called upon his council in the winter palace.
The Mongols have come. already, the council shivered in terror and shock of the mere utter of the mongols.
They are already ravaging our land, destroying towns and villages and staining the rivers and lakes with the blood of our people. the council starts to waver with their own thoughts and small debates floods the room as the noise escalates. the great prince cannot bear it at all.
SILENCE the room goes quiet as all heads turns to face the great prince.
We need to build up our military and force the horde back to the pits from where they belong a counciller, Kuviev, stands up and speaks against him.
Your highness, our country is in turmoil and chaos. crops are failing, heretics run amock on our streets and we only have but a few hundred conscripts in our army. there is no way we can stop the mongols... Vladmiver listened, and pondered on what he said. He finally spoke with great determination and anticipation...
We will have to tax the people higher objections coming in shouts and disbeliefs dominates the room. it was clear that taxing the people was not on the council's agenda.
If you tax the people higher, it would be disasterous crops would fail, the people will starve to death and eventually the peasents will revolt HOw can you possibily think of taxing the people more that it is now? a loud cheer comes from across the room as the counciller sits down with confidence and morale.
BUT don't you realise that our land is going to be ravaged and rioting anyway the mongols are going do exactly what you have described isn't that true? a few nods and murmurs breaks the silence.
but...but...
Don't you realise that? We have even heard, from our ENEMIES of this horde that will conquer all Europe Don't you think we should act?
but...but...
THE REST OF EUROPE IS COUNTING ON US
but...but...
NO BUTS We shall have to impose taxes on the people and conscript peasents in our army. However, we shall tell them of the horde and the disasterous consequences that will happen if they don't act more nodds and small exclamations pleases the grand prince.
It is the least that the people should know. the council retires and continues tomorrow. all the councillers stand, bow leaves the room. only the grand prince still sits on his throne in the council room. Thoughts and wonderings race through his mind. How are we going to build up our army and defeat the mongols? how much are we going to impose further on our people?

How long will the Horde have to take to crush all civilisation on Christendom?

[Monk]

To Valhalla I Ride Part 3 of 3

It was just before dawn, the torches of the Viking army lite up the bay, shining like bright stars out from the mist. Upon the shores there was assembled a massive force of 1000, just as Erik had ordered. Huscarls, Landsmen, and Thralls of all kinds were summonded here for the voyage. Erik with his great bodyguards strode out in front of his great army and confronted them. He spoke with a loud and commanding voice, one which echoed over the water and the lands of his people.

Brothers he began as he held up his axe, Today we are assembled to do battle with our sworn enemy the Mercians and when he said 'do battle', all one thousand of the warriors erupted with a great cry and shouts which sounded as of Thunder, Erik held up his hands to stop their chants for a moment and spoke again. The battles will be long and hard, many of us may die in the them, however i want you all to know that my fate is your fate we will die together

When he had finished again the men cried out in rejoice and rushed aboard their longboats. it took many boats to carry the great force, but fortunatly Erik had not only rebuild the military but the Navy in this time of war. the great ships set out upon the blackness of the see in the dark of night and dissapeared in t he mists. One month later they charged out of the mists of the great sea and appeared off the coast of the Mercian provence of Lindisi.

There was widespread panic as the locals realized the Vikings had returned, the local army there paniced and retreated as the Viking Lord disembarked from his Longboat and shouted over the lands. His voice rang echoed through the vallies and carried over the lands, all who heard him shook in fear and ran, Upon this day, Death has come to your shores were his words. and so the Vikings took the lands without a fight, but they were not satisfied, the invaded Dere to the North, and still the Mercians cowered and ran. Into Doc Saetan (sp?) they travaled meeting only little resistance, pillaging the lands and burning whatever could not be carried. Soon the mercian King was traped between his two enemies in Hwicce, The Vikings in the North and the Saxons to the south

Erik sent a runner over the the Saxon King with him traveled a message, when the messenger arrived he told the Saxon King the following words:

My lord he said as he entered the Keep of Meirce that had fallen to Saxon hands a year before. He bowed to the Saxon King then continued, I bring word from the Viking Lord Erik the Fierce, he has informed me to tell you that 'In these times of war, many should look to friends for help, although our two nations have been at war for many years, he sugests that we end our wars and concentrate on our common enemy, the Mercians' The Saxon King smiled and rose from his Throne, he came down off of the steps and gave Erik a messege tell your lord, he said with great joy in his voice that he could hardly contain it. That i accept this offer graciously, where is Erik now?

He is in Wrocen Saetan, he has driven the Mercian King into a corner, but admits that their numbers are to great for him alone to over come.

Ah the Saxon King said, Then i will send forth 2500 of my finest men, i will lead them myself to make sure they arrive, tell your Lord, we will fight and fall together if need be. The messenger bowed low and traveled as fast as he could back to lord Erik.

When He was given the News Erik Rose up from his seat upon the ground and hailed the Saxon King, we march at dawn' he shouted to his men and all who would hear him. he grabed his axe and called together a war councile of his finest warriors and generals. Conisdering both their own numbers, their allie's numbers, and the Mercian's numbers. they decided that if they were to win they would need to destroy one of the armies flanks and rush in a great amount of Huscarls.

Dawn broke upon the lands,it was the 16th of September by the figuring of the Saxons, the Armies of the Vikings and the Saxons met and together they marched. Through a number of forests and over countless hills they went, laughing and telling tales of days gone by, Myths, legends and faith was discused many times between the two armies. both Kings of the united Countries were present and finally when they marched onto the field where the Mercians awaited them they found over four thousand warriors, not peasants, not poorly trained militia, but Huscarls Fyrdmen and a number of Elite Calvary. Erik looked upon the great army of the Mercians and simply said This shall be a worthy battle

The allied force of 3000 against the Mercian force of 4000 stood there on the great lands of Hwicce, the forests light up with the light of torches as night fell. the Saxons were a bit scared at first when seeing the odds against them, but the more they heard the Vikings talk about death and battle, the more anxious they grew for battle. Erik sat around one of the many fires goind with the Saxon King, with his head low the King held his sword by his side and spoke to the Viking lord. Do you think we have a chance here? he said with a doubtfull voice.

Erik looked at him, removed his helm and let his hair flow down his shoulders. He put his battle axe down by his side and answered the worried King, Whether we win here or Die here does not matter. what matters is that now we stand together showing the nations of Britian that there are some who still oppose the Mercian War machine, we and our Soldiers will fight side by side and will die the same way. And in an old saying that my father once said 'Its a good day to die.'

The Saxon KIng smiled and laid down and slept for a few hours. when he awoke it was time for battle.

The Sun rose above the forest and at the edge gathered the three thousand soldiers who had come to fight. As they gazed out over the land, across the field down a small valley and into the Mercian lines they saw both Men, Horse, and siege weapons. The Vikings set out to the east and went down into the valley, they travaled quick and before long they had covered half the battlefield. The Saxon King wasting no time ordered his men to make a charg across the middle. The Mercian lines released arrows and rained down stones upon the Saxons, as they went into battle the Vikings reapeared on the Mercian right flank. as the Berserkers led the way into the fray Erik charged his unit into a like of Fyrdmen who had been deployed to stop the Vikings.

Laughing and with a look of pure agression in hius eyes Erik swung down his great axe and along with his men cut a path straight through his enemies. The Saxons closed the gap around the Mercians and killed many, the Vikings now charging cutting down every man and beast within striking distance, met up with the Mercian King. Erik came out from behind the Berserkers and swung up his axe around his head, as he brought it down it smashed the helm of the King before him. as he droped to the ground ridden in blood, Erik gave a grave smile then went upon fighting. but as the battle raged on the Saxon King himself fell to the sword, for a moment the Saxon forces began to waver, but as they began to break a line of Landsmen came up behind them pushing them on. The Mercians brought in wave after wave of their warriors, and before long they began to call in peasents. Erik knew they were weakening and ordewred all who would hear him to make a charge forward.

The Sky became dark and a great thunder was heard. The rains let loose upon the land washing the blood from the Vikings uniforms, Erik rushed his men into the remaining lines of the Mercians. How they must have felt the Mercians, now facing a charge of 800 angry vikings, behind them a red sky looked with thunder cracking and raining falling down. many hundreds more fell before the General of Mercia finally admited defeat and ordered a withdraw.

It took little time for the Mercians to to run away from the onslaught, and as the sky cleared and the thundered died away. There sat upon the lands was thousands of corpes, the Saxons had lost 700 men and the Vikings around 470, however the Mercians lost many more. A stagering 2370 men died following their King, the Vikings allowed the Saxons to take claim on the land, they held on toWrocen Saetan to the North. Erik died many years later defending the provence from a Mercian counter attack. but his sacrifice allowed his men to fend off their attackers, Wrocen Saetan became a Viking Stronghold where many battles were fought for the next 10 years before the Mercians were destoyed.

The Saxons and Vikings remained allied for many years to come untill 1066 when at the battle of Stamford bridge where the Vikings where soundly defeated by King Harold.

[Monk]

A good day to die

The Morning sun slowly rose out from the hills far to the east, the light shot out from behind the clouds and covered the land in a warm blanket of hope. This land was named Bohemia and it had been taken from the Germans two years prior by the Polish. The attack was came suddenly and without warning,forced from the provence the Commander of the German forces vowed he would return with greater men. However the Polish have been expecting a counter attack, but they know not where it will accure, the guard on Bohemia is light compared to other lands captured. With only 417 men and the youngest son of the King defending it is questionable if they will repell their attackers.

Prince Henry Rode out from his line and looked upon the battlefield, with no archers of his own he is well aware that he will need a great advantage to make up for it. with a force of 120 calvary it takes little time for him to see his upperhand, All calvary men shall take refuge in those woods on the far left he shouts as he points over to a wooded area near a small villiage.

Henry's sergent rides forth, At once my lord he says holding his spear next to him, then rides off to meet up with his men, pointing over the field he rushes them off into the horrizen, with the speed of lighting they travel and dissapear under the cover of trees. Henry lookes to the north and sees his enemy, the german forces have arrived on the battlefield. Quickly he orders his man-at-arms and Slav warriors to take up defensive positions and prepare for a coming attack. The germans, however plan to find his calvary first and begin to scout out the forests, feeling his Men are in danger Henry leads a charge down the hills and straight into the Lines of the Germans.

As He and his men fight it soon becomes clear he cannot win, in over conifdence the HRE's forces move forward thinking that they are wining, but when the prince raises his banner and signals his cavalry to ride forth, the tide of battle soon turns. Out of the shadows of the forest come 120 Men on horseback, shouting curses and holding their spears forward. Henry orders his foot soldiers to counter attack as the Polish Calvary enters battle. The Result is a devestating effect upon the HRE's men, they begin to waver quickly and before their commander cane redirect his soldiers they are trampled by the on rushing cavalry.

Feeling he can do no more he himself turns to run, however Henry did not allow it. The commander was chased down like the dog he was along with three hundred of his troops. The Polish Cavalry was forever noted that day and feared upon the field of battle for the next 40 years, untill they met the Mongoles. Prince henry was declared a mighty warrior and skilled defender, his father odered that Bohemia be reinforced and soon the war continued. with new found pride and valor the Polish defeated the HRE in a number of 4 years, with the help of the French who are now the greatest power in Europe.

Poland remained a great power, that is untill they encountered the Mongoles, but that is a different tale all together.

[karmastray]

Monk, I liked your story, a good Viking tale

Anyhooo...this one is called:

Duke Alfonso, The Greatest Spainerd to Ever Mount a Horse
(or, a tale of the defense of the Spanish province of Arabia)

Part I

Who do these dogs think they are? Duke Alfonso asked from the saddle of his mailed warhorse. The green oriflammes with the crescent moon embroidered in gold were hoisted over the army advancing slowly from the north.
I think they think they're the Turkish, his Aide-de-camp, a small man by the name of Garc Velasquez, answered.
Yes...but just who do they think they are? the great duke asked once more.
I...ohh... they are dogs, to be sure, sire. Don Garc, seeing the futility of a truthful answer, changed the subject. Sire, it sure is nice and sunny today, isn't it?
Duke Alfonso threw an irritated look at Garc and answered. Fool, this is Arabia, it is always sunny Don't bother with your inane prattle, be a good aide-de-camp and fetch me a leg of camel.
Garc shuddered and rode back to the mobile kitchen, always within 200 yards of Duke Alfonso whenever he was in the field. Leg of camel had become the duke's favorite food since becoming regent of Arabia. To Don Garc it smelled of excrement and decay, but it had fattened Duke Alfonso up to the point no ordinary horse could carry the man. A perechon had to be shipped in from god knew where. To be sure, the duke made a fearsome sight up his steed. 500lbs of man, armor and weaponry was enough to make any warrior blanche. In battle, five men had to ride behind him with water jugs, food and fresh armour (a 400lb man sweats a lot in the desert). Two giant saracen slaves captured in battle
were assigned to help him remount his horse if we was to fall, and his mobile kitchen was instructed to always ALWAYS be preparing leg of camel (and to burn the rest of the beast -- the Duke hated to think that he shared his food with the commoners)

Turkish dogs Spat Alfonso as Don Garc returned with his camel leg.
Here you go sire, mind the dripping grease.
Give it, knave...mmmgrrr (rip) (bite) (chew) (gulp) A few minutes later the duke finished his meal. Now, lets have those sergeants set up a spearwall here...hmmm...yess... some archers back here.. okay, good. Now some cavalry, excellent. The duke's army marched out to take their positions, the proud Spanish banners waving over their heads as the afternoon hot desert wind blew through.
Looks like we can expect a sandstorm sire, that'll surely help us against the turkish and their accursed archers.
'Shut up, fool.

2 hours later...

The Turkish army poured arrows down up the Spanish defenders as they had been doing all afternoon without any signs that they were running out of ammunition. The few paltry units of defending archers were all out of arrows and had been for a while...

Sire, we sure are losing a lot of men to incoming fire, maybe we could try to flank their rat-dog archers with our fine cavalrymen?
SHUT UP FOOL WHEN I WANT YOUR ADVICE I WILL ASK This is all a part of my plan, you see I am cleverly trying to make the Turkish run out of arrows on our men, knowing full well that no Turk can outfight a Spainerd in hand to hand combat. So, you see, when they finally run out of arrows they will attack, and then they will be slaughtered A plan worthy of Ceasar if I do say so myself
But, sire, what if we run out of men before they run out of arrows?
Well then, Garc my friend, I guess it shall be up to us to save the day--as usual.
Uhh, sire, that doesn't sound very well thought out--
SILENCE
mumble mumble go f**k a horse mumble mumble
What was that, fool?
'I was just saying what a fine figure you make on that horse, sire
'Thank you...yes I know. Oh, look, the rats are marching on us, now you will see the Spanish cat in action.
Yes m'lord.

A great battle cry rose up from the approaching turks and they charged, en masse, the front rank of the spanish spearwall. The Spanish, craving battle, battled them down and sent them running home to their infidel mothers. Minutes later, they regrouped, and with heavy cavalry flanking, attacked again. By this time the armoured Spainerds were tired and overheated in their battle dress. Their fighting spirit was beginning to wane and they began to take heavy losses as the turkish cavalry hit them on the left flank. Spanish cavalry reacted and came down upon the Turks like a hammer, soon, the enemy general was dead and the Turks were in retreat. What was left of the Spanish was little more then a ragged line of spearmen, swordsmen and a few horsemen. Reinforcements began to march up from the rear as the Turkish army regrouped...

To be continued.. next: How Duke Alfonso Fought, Personally, Against Some Fearsome Horse Archers

[karmastray]

Part II in our biography of Duke Alfonso of Spanish Arabia and his epic combat against the Turkish entitled:


How Duke Alfonso Went Into Battle and Fought Bravely Against Some Fearsome Horse Archers


The regrouped and reinforced Turkish army drew up a fresh battle line not far from the remnants of the Spanish force.
Taunts in the Turks barbarian tongue could be heard, and more then one brave Spainerd knew that their mothers were being insulted and their fathers cursed Some of the Spanish responded by displaying their buttocks to the enemy, a move which angered the new Turkish general so much that he immediatly ordered his men to charge. Under a storm of arrows the Turks and Spainerds met once again in fierce battle.

Swords parried spears and horses rode down men from both armies as the battle swept into confusion. From his post a hundred yards or so from the main battle Duke Alfonso watched the melee.
All this fighting makes me hungry, he rumbled, patting his armoured belly. Fetch me some more meat, fool.
Ahhh, m'lord, I'm sorry but you remember those Armenian mercanaries that tried to flank us about 15 minutes ago?
Ahh, yes, those foul rat-dogs that I dealt with personally. Answered the flabbily flatulent duke.
Umm.. Don Garc hadn't remembered the Duke ever leaving the safety of his command post, but he knew to question what the Duke said meant death (he was the third aide-de-camp in a month) Yes, those Armenians, well, they managed to slaugter the cooks and destroy the mobile kitchen.
WHAT?
I'm sorry lord, Garc said, cringing, certain that death was near.
YOU TURKISH PISS The duke roared, face crimson. YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THEN THE FOUL EXCREMENT OF A DONKEY, DO YOU HEAR ME, FLEA BITTEN DOGS?
Don Garc, unaccustommed to this kind of fighting spirit from his hedonist lord, yelled out a wild yell and spurred his horse on, certain that the duke would be riding into battle to avenge his lost lunch. After about twenty yards of wild galloping and making ready to plunge into the thick of battle and looked around to see that the duke and the rest of his knights hadn't moved. He wheeled his horse around and returned to Alfonso's side.
Sire, don't you want to help out your brave soldiers against the Turkish snakes-in-the-grass? Garc said, watching as the battle's momentum began to push the Spanish soldiers back toward the duke's position.
Well, I'm here, aren't I? I'm their general I'm supposed to sit on my horse and sip wine while they die in glorious combat The duke replied while wiping a gallon of sweat from his face.
Well, sire, began Don Garc, knowing he was about to tread on deadly ground. The men have been...umm... well saying certain things about you ever since the battle for Egypt.
Well, of course, I've heard the men saying -- under their breaths of course, it wouldn't be proper for them to address me in person -- that I am a glorious son of God--
No lord, I think they say a pig-faced son of an Ox--
And that I am a seeming devil in battle--
You run like a screaming girl from battle--
And that I am the greatest man to mount a horse in all of the Spanish empire--
That you probably f**k horses and are a fat bastard--
WHAT?? The duke roared. 'The men say all that about me?
Yes lord. And even then most of the duke's personal guard of knights were snickering in their helms.
The duke nudged closer to Garc and said, in a low voice, What can I do to make myself look better to them? Not that I need to, for they are only sons-of-whore soldiers
Well, lord, Garc said thoughtfully, surveying the battlefield. You see those Turkish rat-bastard horse archers that are pelting our left flank?
Yes. Why?
Well, why don't we charge them, fight them in valorious hand-to-hand combat and send them to their heathen hell
Splendid idea, Don Garc, you take these men and I'll stay here to direct the main battle.
Well..... sire, I think the idea is so that the men see you in combat annihlating the enemy
Ohhh... I see, The duke thought about it, looked over to the horse archers in question and then looked back to Don Garc. It is quite a long way out there and back..
'Yes, sire, Garc sighed.
It's awfully hot, and the winds are really stirring up the sand, it's beginning to sting
I know, duke Alfonso.
'Do you really think I have to do this?
Yes.
Okay, duke Alfonso moped like a small child forced to undertake an disliked chore. Follow me men.

The duke spurred his horse on and began to circle behind the horse archers harassing his men. They looked to number about forty, about double the men the duke had (not counting the five men with the water, food and wine and the two saracen slaves) so the Spainerds moved around to the side and then began to creep up (if such a convey can really creep) on the Turks. With a hesitant battle cry the duke sent his horse into a charge followed by his brave spanish knights (and porters) . The Turks managed to wheel around and face the charging knights head on, about ten were killed in the first charge and then the remaining Turks drew their swords and began to fight back. The duke, himself, had managed to knock one of the Turks off his steed with a bumb from his lance, and now he faced about five of the viscious saracens in head on combat A sword stroke bounced off his shield and he emitted a shriek. Another scrapped off his chest armor and the duke's sense of self preservation took over, he screamed like a man possessed and rode his horse straight through the Turkish and then aimed for home, Spain -- to the left and about 3000 miles

The dukes men, fighting and cutting down the Turkish mounted archers, witnessed their duke's actions and began to laugh... soon the laughter spread to the Turkish side, none could fight Most clutched their bellies and attempted to stay mounted on their beasts.
Is man your Emir? One of the Turks asked in broken Spanish to Don Garc between fits of laughter. Garc, understanding what had been said nodded.. for he could force no words out.
'Sorry.. we're kill him.' The Turk waved his scimatar in the air and took off at a gallop after the fleeing duke, the rest of his men following behind.
Don Garc could only wipe away tears and try to rally the knights to fly after the mounted archers. Behind them, the battle was won without the duke ever issuing one order. The Turks ran back to Syria like a consumed man runs for the latrine -- the Spanish behind them every step of the way, slaughtering those who fell or passed out due to the heat.

Don Garc found Duke Alfonso three days later at the camp of the Turkish mounted archers. He was blubbering and attempting to spit clean the Turks boots while the archers themselves surrounded him and laughed until tears ran. Garc approached to parley, found the one Turk who spoke spanish and managed to buy the duke from them for a small price. After his three days of captivity and slave-labor the duke was a changed man. A king's emmissary came and informed him that the honorable king Pedro (the Lion) had stripped him of his titles and lands and was handing them over to the great Don Garc Valesquez, who was forevermore to be known as Duke Valesquez of Spanish Arabia. The former duke was unceremoniously sent packing. Some say he still wanders the holy land, looking for a good bite of camel and perhaps a ship back to his homeland. But others say he became the great monk Alfons, creater of the Alfonsine legacy, the order which take care of stray camels and are noted for their genorosity and kindness -- though most say that that is a load of camel manure.

The End

[Monk]

War in the West part 1 of 2

The sky above was a pale grey, under the green leaves of the trees, King Alfonso IV looked out toward the river, there he saw what must have been well over one thousand Almohad warriors. he looked around himself and saw his rag tag group of mercenaries, militia men, jinnets, and Man-at-arms. How such a group of men could throw back the Islamic war machine that was the Almohads was beyond him, yet he refused to run.

He rode out from the dense forest and pointed his sword forth, as he did so out came hundredes of men behind him. Bow, sword and spear all in hand they marched down to the river side. A single stone bridge led into Valencia at this point, and he intended to defend it with his life. As he orded the armored spearmen and cavalry mercenaries to take positions, a lone rider apeared out of the mists to the north. Clad in a chain armor and mounted upon a black horse he rode with a long spear in his hand and a great shield by his side. The King was un easy at the new arrival but as he drew closer, he reconized the rider as his son.

Richard cried the King, What are you doing here? I ordered you to defend Aragon.

Richard the II of Aragon stoped and lifted his helm, he looked at the forces his father had patched together and said Aragon has fallen.

The king Alfonso held his head low, so...the Almohads have taken it as well?

Yes, Answered his son, However many of our warriors have made it to Navere. They are planing to launch an attack at the end of this winter, yet..

But they are not sure they can take Aragon without out help interupted the King. so be it We will drive back the Almohads here and on our homelands

A gentle rain broke from the clouds above, at first it was nothing more than a slight drizzle, but it did not take long for a great storm to roll in. Great winds blowing from the east and west, thunder claping and lighting striking down upon the lands. The River rose and forth came the Almohads, their spear tips and swords glinted in the lighting.

On the other bank the Man at arms and Armored spearmen set their sheilds together, detirmened not to allow any foe to pass. Archers lined up behind them and readied a number of arrows, the king himself was at the middle of the line shouting commands to his troops. Closer came the Almohads untill they reached the other side of the river, and at the command of the King the arrows were loosed. hundreds at a time screaming into the enemies ranks, yet they still aproached.

When the Almohads came onto the bridge and made it to the middle, a great horne was blown and forth charged the Soldiers of Aragon. Both ranks clashed together and the screams of many men was heard, the archers of both sides rained death down on the troops. The lightning flashed overhead and the King threw up his sword, Forward he shouted, and forth he rode into the battle. his son followed him along with the fuedal Knights, but even with the fresh arivals the forces of aragon could not push back the soldiers of Islam.

The King battled in the midst of many foes, casting aside his own safty, despretly trying to force his enemies back. His sword found its mark in many murabitan infantrymen and other peasent on that bridge, his bodyguards were being slain all around him yet he still battled on. Many of his soldier's broken bodies now laid on the bridge, and he fought. Finally another wave f his troops entered the battle, and his men fought on with ner courage.

The rain continued to fall, and the lightning flashed over head. The King of Aragon pushed his men forward, they had almost claimed the entire bridge when the Almohad Urban Militia joined the battle. Alfonso had not encountered these sort of troops before so he did not expect the impact they had, ordering his men to keep advancing. But as he battled with a spearman he was charged by a horde of these AUM, he attempted to battle them off, but his horse was killed beneath him.

Alfonso rose to his feet and was impaled by a spear, he fell to his knees and then to the ground. his son Richard attempted to reach his fallen body, but was struck down by an arrow from a desert archer. Having both Father and son slain in the same battle, the remaining mercenaries fled from the battlefield in a paniced rout. as the final man left the field, the king of the Almohads apeared. He and his 19 bodyguards surveyed the field and saw many dead on both sides, and still yet many dieing. One of his soldiers came to him.

Sir he bowed low and reported We have taken the field from the Aragonese and are asured the provence called Valencia. However we have lost 432 men, the enemy has lost a number of 678.

The king turned and said how many prisoners?

forty six answered the soldier.

Kill them all the King said with a deadfull smile.

But...sir?

Do it Leave none alive.

uh...Y..Yes my King the Soldier bowed and left his site.

The forty six Aragonese prisoneres were executed and the Almohads pushed on into Valencia, after a quick siege of the local castle, they prepared for the coming counter attack in Aragon.

The rain stoped and the sky cleared, the Sun set behind a hillfar to the west.

[Monk]

War in the West part 2 of 2

King Stephen II walked the halls of the palace in Navarre, his father and Brother's deaths had reached him lat last month as he prepared to mount the counter attack in Aragon. Untrained in the ways of economy he was, in his own mind, unfit to rule.

Stephen gathered a host of 700 troops. Cavalry, infantry, and archers of all kinds gathered near the border of Aragon. at their head was the King of the Aragonese marching them forward. They marched torches exstinguished into Almohad territory, it was hoped they could surprise their Islamic conquerors. As Night grew old and ceded the sky to the light of day, the armies of the King reached flat grassland surrounded by Mountains and hills with a forest in the center. And on the east side of the forest there stood a great army of 1200, At their command was the heir to the Almohad throne.

My god exclaimed the king's good friend Edward, the leader of the Man-At-Arms. There's no way we can push through them

We can, said the King hold his spear close. They shall not stop us, our mission is good and cause is just We shall win this day.

The Aragonese troops positioned themselves at the west end of the forest with cavalry on both flanks, heavy Infantry in the center with archers close behind. Spanish Jinnets along with Javaliners made up the right flanks with the royal knights and a few feudal knights on the left. The sky cleared and the sun lit the ground so all could be seen.

King Stephen raised his spear and pointed forward, with so the entire line of troops advanced toward the Almohad lines. as the troops passed into the forest the trees burst into life as hidden units of Militia and cavalry charged out from hiding utterly slaughtering the Man at arms sent in. on the outside Stephen could see little but what he could hear was the screams and shouts of his men, quickly he ordered the cavalry to charge in, but to no avail.

Moments later there came screaming out a small number of seven men, covered in blood and most with broken swords they fled past their King not even stopping to give a report.

Damn these men said the King looking into the forest, seeing nothing but shadows and trees. hearing only the whisper of troops and the whistle of the occasional bird. To hell with my Troops he shouted with a loud and booming voice, I will drive through them myself he drew his sword and charge into the dark forest with his 19 bodyguards, once in they were surrounded by the blackness of shadows, not even a bit of sunlight cut through the trees. The King halted their charged and looked about, before them was the place of battle, hundreds of fallen troops, man and beast killed and left to rot.

The king dismounted from his horse and looked upon the fallen, but as he did there was a rustle in the bushes to their left. Stephen rushed back to his horse, and no sooner had he mounted was there a great horn blown, out of the forest from all directions there came warriors charging and shouting holding their weapons to the sky. King Stephen and his bodyguards lept from their spot and rode out to meet them. The king fighting side by side with his remaining soldiers was able to establish a ring of combat, able to repel his attackers. The king now fighting with everything he had began to lose his soldiers to the enemies blade, as he was being pushed back his sword broke. Stephen grabbed a spear nearby and attempted to swing it around into the face of the Almohads, yet as he reached down his horse was killed out from under him.

Stephen fell to his knees and hung his head low, he looked around and saw his last follower being cut down as he attempted to come to his King's aid. The soldiers of the Almohads surrounded the king and held their weapons ready. Out of the shadows there rode the commander of the Muslim army, he looked at the King of Aragon and smiled. He sheaved his sword and spoke...

You have lost your army, your father, and your homelands. There is no need for you to die needlessly here, you can be taken prisoner and made a slave within our many mines that is if you are smart enough to live.

Stephen was outraged; his left hand grasped his dagger which was at his side. He leapt forward towards the enemy general, but as he did so a spear was shoved through him from behind. Stephen looked down and saw the tip of the blade withdraw from his body, the blood dripped from his wound and covered his armor. He fell to his right nee and then to both, with his last bit of energy he threw his dagger into an enemy who was standing nearby. The soldier fell to the ground in a blood curdling scream, The king smiled then fell upon the ground and died.

[karmastray]

The Education of Prince Suleyman
vol. I


The sky was the color of a television tuned to a dead-- wait...

It was the best of times... no, hold on...

Columns and columns of peasant families, their lives loaded onto mules and stacked haphazardly on carts stood to the side of the broad, gravelly Georgian highway watching as the glittering army of the Turks moved in precise measure to the beating of war drums. Hundreds of turkish warriors, mounted and on foot marched up the roadway opposite the direction that the refugees were fleeing. Though the troops were discilpined in the highest sense of any muslim army, some still could not help but cast their eyes aside to the grungy Georgians who had been forced from their homes by this new threat to the north. Stories and rumors fled with the pilgrims, some reaching the Turkish soldiers ears.

Fearful tales of villages burned, women raped, men killed without warrant, children taken... Tales of monstermen. True horsemen, one-half horse and one-half man. Tales of thousands upon thousands of these heathens with their armies poised to invade and destroy the beautiful Turkish Empire.

At the center of the Turkish army rode the young prince Suleyman, crown prince of the kingdom and general of these 750 men. He'd heard the stories and, deep in his heart, he felt fear. But he was not about to show his fear now, in front of his first command and ready to engage in glorious combat with the pagan. Suleyman, glittering and imperious in his polished armour and astride his impressive warhorse, was only 16 summers old, newly a man and with his head shaved. His blood was hot for battle, and he knew it wouldn't be long.

His father, Sultan Mehmed II, had given him instructions to bring his army to a small hamlet in the north of Georgia and add his forces to the arms of the greatest general of the realm, amir Gazi of the newly Turkish province of Constantinople who was bringing his army by ship. General Gazi was to take the young man under his wing and teach him the finer points of strategy -- a good education to have (that is, if they both survived this horde of invaders) .
Months and months of marching, from Tripoli through Armenia and finally into Georgia had paid off, his road-weary troop of soldiers finally had the hamlet (now fortified by wooden stockades and catapults) and Gazi's army in sight.

What a sight it was Thousands upon thousands of tents, hastily made stables, butts, training areas for combat and food halls had been constructed by Gazi's army in the previous few weeks of occupation. Unnamed thousands of Turkish warriors bustled about, concerned with some activity or another and the whole thing, to Prince Suleyman's perspective had the appearance of a community of ants.

By Allah himself Suleyman breathed, awed by the sight of this marvelous army. These murderous Mongol invaders have no chance against an army such as this Those in the prince's company nodded agreement.

Accompanied by some of Gazi's outrider scouts the prince and his advisors rode down into the center of the hamlet, to the command post.

I'm sorry my prince, a kneeling officer, who had been presiding over a detailed map of northern Georgia and southern Khazar inside a converted mead hall when the prince's retinue arrived. But Amir Gazi is not available--
Nonsense, the Prince cut in. Simply tell him his liege is here and he is ready for his humble servent.
The man groveled lower, I'm very sorry my prince, your words are as Allah's Himself, but the Amir is out of camp, with a scouting party.

Prince Suleyman felt his blood growing hotter, this man who was his servant showing such contempt as to not meet the prince on his arrival Prepostorous
Well, the young prince growled. When can we expect our Amir to return to his army?
Not sure, my lord, the officer said, face to the floor. 'Perhaps in a few hours. There had been rumours of Mongol warriors--
I don't care if the devil himself was spotted The prince yelled. When he returns, send him to me immediatly
Yes, my lord, I will. Now, if you will follow my man here, we have some tents set up in the center of camp for your personal living quarters. You and your retainers may refresh there.
Officer, I will refresh where and when I want to Do you understand? The prince said, hand on his sword.
Yes, my lord The officer trembled. Even out here in the backwater, word of the princes' evil temper had been heard.
With that, the prince flew out of the command post.

Inside his quarters, later on that evening, the prince allowed his slaves to bathe his feet as serving girls brought in a feast for him and his retainers -- many of whom were boys his age, friends he had grown up in the court with.
Look at these humble quarters It's as if we were nothing more then peasants in the backwater The prince said contemptously, looking around the the largish tent, at the several beds and the one curtained off area that was to be his sleeping area. Am I not the future Sultan of this entire empire, do I not deserve more then this Where is this Gazi, probably hiding in the forest rather then facing his prince.
His friends laughed in agreement when suddenly the curtain-door to the outside was thrown open. A grisled old man strode in, armed, armoured and robed with the purple cape
of Byzantium. His smell preceeded him, sweat, dirt and the strong smell of horse. He came to the table as ten other hardened men entered behind him.
And did I hear my name mentioned?'
The prince stared, at a loss for words. His friends all stood from their chairs and fingered their weapons. The grisled old man, Amir Gazi for certain, eyed the youths.
Unless you want to die, I suggest you do not draw your blades.
This was too much for Suleyman.
Explain yourself Gazi This is not allowed I am your lord
'No Gazi shouted back, his features distorted into contempt. You are my pupil And you are uncouth, uneducated and arrogant
The prince's face grew red and he drew his sword and slammed it's hilt into the feasting table before him.
He could not speak Two of his friends drew daggers and lunged at Gazi to kill him. The first found the second's knife lodged into his chest, piercing his heart and killing him instantly, while the second caught a mailed knee to the groin and fell, vomiting.
Well? Gazi asked, pushing the dead man to the floor. The rest of you, leave
The prince's friends hesitated, some with weapons in their hands, throwing nervous looks back to Suleyman.
'LEAVE The thunderous shout filled the tent, and, it felt, the entire world. With it came BANG so loud it made everyone in the room, even Gazi's seasoned warriors, jump. His fist had smashed down onto the feasting table so hard it had splintered it
With a clatter, the princes' friends dropped their swords and knives and inched past Gazi and his men and out the door. They were followed by the generals' men who surrounded the tent outside and would not let anyone in.

And now, boy, The wrinkled old man said. 'For your education...

To be continued...same Turk time, same Turk channel.

[karmastray]

The Education of Prince Suleyman
vol. II


In all of young Prince Suleyman's sixteen years of life he had never been yelled at, struck, threatened or even given the evil eye by any man save his father. And now this grizzled old dark skinned man had dared to invade his royal tent, kill one of his friends and command him around like he was no more then a piece of rubbish. The prince's head swam with rage and fear, opposite him, with the shattered feasting table between them, the old general stood still armed and armoured from wherever he had been earlier in the day and smelling like a pig in slop. His eyes, two dark brown wells of threat were fixed upon the young princes'. Scars abounded on his face, and generally mixed into the mans sun-hardened, wrinkled countenance. His mouth was fixed into the most evil, devilish sneer that Suleyman had ever seen and at that moment, more then any other time in his life, Suleyman had the fear of death. In defeat the prince turned his gaze to the floor, where his feet were still soaking in the warm herb-water his slave girl had been bathing them in.

A most ominious silence that seemed to last for years was finally broken with a command from the general.
Read this, the old man ordered and shoved a thick piece of folded paper toward Suleyman. With a glance, the prince saw his fathers waxen seal adorning the letter. Suleyman took it and opened it up.

My dearest son, beloved prince Suleyman,

Allah in his infinite wisdom has given me the life I lead, and through his guidance and divine support I have built the Turkish state into the thing of beauty and power that it is today.

It is with a mixed heart that I think of you, my firstborn, another of my creations In your eyes I see a good man, or at least the stuff of which good and honourable men are made. But your soul is dark with anger, greed and hedonism -- perversions of the devil to be sure I don't know how it came to be this way, I have attempted to raise you as a good muslim. To forswear alcohol, to live a life of ascetism, to be merciful and just and to lead your people with honor and protect them and our glorious empire with your life. I have failed. I am sorry my son, it is not through any fault of yours that you are the way you are. The devil put many distractions on this earth so that he may have souls in his pit of fire to toy with, and it takes a good father to raise his son to be aware of such things. Unfortunatly, I am not a good father. I have been distracted my entire life with our lands, our enemies, our unceasing battles with the Latins. I've had no time for you or your brothers. I am truly sorry. And now, praise Allah for his guidance, I am ready to make amends.

Before you stands the Governor-General of Constantinople. A good man. A truly pious muslim. A warrior of Allah. I have given you to him for the next four years. My son, I know that this must break your heart, but mine has been broken for many years You are the future of my empire. My future, don't you see? For thousands of years it has been thus, that the righteous warrior creates a realm and the next generation kills it with their sins. This shall not be the fate of the Turkish Empire Governor-General Gazi will mold you into a fine warrior. A leader. A true follower of Allah. For the next four years you are his slave. You shall do everything he commands, for he holds your life in his hands. If he wants you dead, you shall die, and I, upon hearing of your death will praise Allah, for I know that you would have died on a path to meet our righteous Lord And if you survive your slavery then I shall be the happiest man on the Earth, because I will have not only my son but I will know that the future of my empire is secure

Son, I will have no contact with you while you are in the Governor-General's care. Do you understand? I hope this letter has not killed the love you hold for me in your heart, and I hope that you know that I will always hold love for you in mine, no matter what happens.

The Sultan Mehmed II, Lord of the Turks, the Egyptians, the Byzantines and Faithful Servant of Our Lord Allah

Suleyman let the letter drop from his shaking hand and looked up to the menacing figure of Gazi, his sneer still present upon his face.

Allah have mercy, Suleyman breathed. The general rolled back his head and laughed aloud. My son, before this is over you will be praying for death



Karmastray peels himself away from the computer and wipes his bleary eyes. My god, I had only imagined this as a short three post story, now I don't think I'll be able to finish it before about five posts ACK (allah have mercy)

[karmastray]

The Education of Prince Suleyman
vol. III


The world seemed to be exploding around Suleyman. His legs shook, barely able to support his weight. His head swam with confusion, anger and fear. He was afraid.. four years of slavery sounded like death to him. It actually sounded worse then death Terror gripped his heart, but then something seemed to harden inside him and he made a decision.

General Gazi, watching from across the broken feasting table, saw the young princes' face flash from emotion to emotion . He saw Suleyman's eyes grow cold, and the prince once again glared defiantly at Gazi.

So, the old man thought. There is a warrior here within this boy after all.

I won't be your slave. The prince said simply, almost no emotion in his voice at all except a slight tremble, barely perceptable. 'You'll have to kill me.

With those words, Suleymen drew the long hunting-knife from the sheath at his side and moved quickly around the table to attack the old general. Everything seemed to slow down to the prince, his backhand slash aimed at Gazi's neck took ages, the old man, dream-like, began to draw his kris and seemed to slide backward over the ground, trying to get out of range of Suleyman's knife. The prince was certain that there was no way that Gazi could evade, and he may have even killed the old general but his boot caught on the corpse of his killed friend and he stumbled to the ground. Gazi took the opportunity and rushed in, moving far faster then Suleyman would have thought possible for a man his age and scored a slash to the prince's right shoulder as the young man got back to his feet. Suleyman slashed out with his blade at the general, but hit only air as the older man moved back out of range.

I'll not be your slave You are a dead man you fat pig-dog The prince screamed at his adversary and dove in again, his knife arcing through a diagonal slash. The old man was faster and moved in close, caught Suleyman's elbow with his own knife-hand and delivered three devilishly quick, but blindingly painful punches to the prince's midsection. The air rushed out of Suleyman's lungs, and a huge, calloused hand roughly grabbed his throat stopping him from taking the deep breath that he so desperately needed.

Suleyman's knife thudded uselessly to the carpeted floor.

Listen, young man, old General Gazi growled into the prince's ear. You are nothing to me now, the only reason I don't sink my blade into your stomach and let you die slowly like a dog is because of your father. The prince's heart thumped like a hammer in his ears, growing louder and louder as his vision darkened. He tried struggling against the general's hold, but the old man was terribly strong, and the hold on his throat only grew tighter. I am a servant to the Sultan, and would do his bidding no matter what he asks of me, even if it is for my very life Do you understand, boy? This is for my life At the end of these four years, if you feel you still want me dead I shall be Think on this, let it be your guiding light.. revenge you will have. With that, the general shoved the prince to the ground.

The young man sucked in a deep breath, and then another.
I will kill you, Suleyman rasped, rubbing at his bruised throat.
Good, you still have life left in you, the general replied, resheathing his kris. Just remember, I own your life, it is not a thing I take lightly. Something alien passed across the general's eyes. Mercy? Compassion? Or an intent to kill me? Thought the enslaved prince.
You are the only man to ever fight me and not wake up to paradise. The general said, turning to leave the tent. But, perhaps, I will have to send you there sooner or later. Over his shoulder, Tonight you sleep in the stables and tomorrow or perhaps the next day we do battle with the Horde, and then maybe we all shall wake up in paradise With an evil laugh the general stepped through the tent's entrance flap.
Show our young friend to the stables, Gazi said to his aides outside the tent. Make sure he stays the whole night, don't let him out of your sight. The men answered in the affirmative and then entered the tent to drag the star-crossed prince to his new life.

------------------------------------------------------------

The prince awoke before dawn the next morning to the sounds of horses knickering, farting and whinneying. Through the night he'd slept badly, waking now and again to the sight of one of Gazi's men leering down at him, fingering his sword hilt as if in anticipation of being able to kill a noble -- certainly an event that did not come along every day.

Up, slave, commanded a gravelly voice. It was his guard from the night. 'Got a lot of work for you today, the General's having us break camp to go out and meet these barbarian invaders Suleyman rubbed the sweat and grime from his eyes and looked at his guard, an older man, perhaps forty. His face was lined with scars and one of his ears was missing along with a couple of fingers. Suleyman repressed a shudder. C'mon slave, there'll be no more foot-baths and slave-girls for you The man's laugh sounded to Suleyman like a death rattle. Atta boy As the prince got to his feet. 'Come along

Prodded by the guard, Suleyman made his way over to a communal fire pit where some cooks were slopping out stew -- double rations -- for the Turkish warriors.

Today we fight an' die, gonna need a good meal in yer belly, slave. Eat up, again the man laughed his death rattle laugh.

Through the rest of the morning, until the sun was three fists above the horizon the Turks packed up their tents, weapons and armour, provisions, defensive stakes and everything else that makes an army run and prepared to move out. Suleyman's guard brought him to the general as the last of the formations moved into their positions.

Here is your armour, put it on,' Gazi said without preamble and one of his men flung a pile of dented metal plates mixed with hardened leather to the prince's feet.
This isn't my armour,' Suleyman said, toeing the antique looking accoutraments on the ground before him.
No, but your armour is fit for a prince, and you are merely a slave, Gazi replied coldly. Plus, in your armour you would stand out like a Christian in Arabia.
I'm a prince, I'm meant to stand out,' Suleyman said haughtily. Gazi's fist moved like lightning and struck the enslaved prince on the temple. Reeling, Suleyman tried to move away from the general, but was held in place by his scar-faced guard.
'You are no longer a prince, the faster you get used to that fact the easier it will be on both of us, now but the armour on The general's voice boomed over Suleyman and the young man moved quickly, his broken head smarting, to get the armour strapped to his body, his scar-faced guardian helping him along.

Some while later, the Turkish army formed up, Gazi ordered the drummers to start the meter. First the drummer on the horse nearest the General started to play, then, like a wildfire, the beat spread out both before the prince and behind him. As far as the young man could figure, the army was spread out a good half-mile in either direction, with a formidible flanking contingent as well.
By Allah, this must be the largest army ever fielded by the Turkish Empire The young man thought as he gazed out over the assorted troops. Slowly, the brigades to the front of the prince began to take up the measure. BOOM... BOOM... BOOM... beat the loud war-drums mounted to the backs of specially trained horses. To each beat the infantryman was supposed take a step with his right leg, his left moving on the off-beat. The cavalry simply matched speed. Far out ahead of the main body rode Turcomen horsemen, seeking and scouting the way to the enemy army. Suleyman was amazed at the ease of control which General Gazi was gifted with. The old man had abandoned the old highway in favor of moving along the steppes and plains of northern Georgia. He seemed to know precisely which direction to go without consulting a map and soon Suleyman knew why.

'Look Smoke The young man said excitedly. A thin trail of smoke rose from the horizon, so far away to be practically invisible.
Gazi through a glance to Suleyman, mounted on a war-horse beside the general.
'You have good eyes, slave, Gazi said, squinting into the distance. It is -- or was a village of native Georgian herdsmen. Some of our scouts found it yesterday, which is why I was out of camp when you arrived.
Suleyman was surprised. 'You went yourself?
Of course, Gazi said non-chalantly. There was little danger of ambush, I always travel with my best warriors and we have swift horses. It is the best to see one's enemy with you own eyes before you engage him on the field. That way you get some idea of how they operate. As the Romans used to say, 'knowledge is power'.
What were they like? these Mongols, asked the prince.
In answer Gazi gave the young man a cold stare. You are forgetting one thing, boy, you are my slave. You are not to ask questions of me, understand?
Suleyman felt rage rising in his chest, but alongside it was uncertainty and a sense of helplessness. Yes..my lord, He spat the last word out, feeling completely humiliated. Around him, the general's men snickered.
Much better, my boy Oh, don't worry, I'm not like those old Greeks, I much prefer slave-girls to boys With this the men around them roared laughter, tears rolling down their cheeks. Suleyman sat still on his mount, washed over in warm rage, ready to murder. A hand clapped him on the back.
Ohh, but General, ain't he a pretty one He could almost be a girl It was his scar-faced guard. The men roared louder, one almost falling from his horse. Suleyman had had enough, in a quick motion he ripped the kris from the scar-faced man's sheath and rammed it into his arm where two armour segments met. The guard screamed in rage and pain and moved his horse quickly away from Suleyman. Some of the men laughed even harder.
Easy, Malik, the General said, laughing. Though you may find him attractive I'd not go pulling out your prong around him, he may cut it off The laughter continued for a while, with Suleyman and Malik left out of it, the latter gingerly attempting to pull the knife from his arm, and throwing murdereous glances at the prince from time to time.

And onward the vast army marched toward the distant burning village and the waiting army of the Horde...

[karmastray]

The Education of Prince Suleyman
vol. IV


Three tense days had passed since the burning of the small Georgian hamlet. The Mongol warriors had faded back into the landscape like an army of ghosts, and hadn't been seen from since. Turkish scouts had found the Mongol's campsite from the previous night, but still had not encountered any sign of the main body of Mongol fighters.

Suleyman, the former prince and current slave, was assigned various low duties. He emptied the General's toilet pot, made him and his men (including the man he had stabbed in the arm) breakfast and dinner and took care of their horses. His duties kept him busy most of the day and he slept like a bear at night -- he was unaccustomed to any kind of hard labour. The boy's emotions still ran wild, everytime he brought the old general his plate of food he imagined throwing it in the mans face and laughing. The fact that the old man barely even registered the prince's existance made it all even worse. At the end of the third night he decided that, whenever the Turkish and Mongol armies finally met in combat, he would slay the old man.

General Gazi had bivaucked the Turkish army just a half-mile from the remains of the Georgian Hamlet, up on the grassy top of a gently rounded hill. Their location offered the army a commanding view of the entire region, as well as a good defensive position. Supply caravans poured in from the Black Sea and the southern provinces, keeping the troops well fed and fairly comfortable.

The third night, as Suleyman was clearing away the remains of their spartan dinner, a scout rushed into the tent.
The man immediatly knelt in front of his general.
What is it, scout? Gazi inquired.
We've spotted the enemy, my lord The man said excitedly. Less then two hours ago, twenty miles north of here, at least two-thousand strong
Gazi narrowed his eyes and took a sip of thick bedouin coffee.
Only two-thousand boy, are you sure that is right?
Yes, sir My captain ordered me back here immediatly, he feels that this is a diversion force, and that the main body is somewhere else. He has ordered twenty of his men to follow them while the rest are searching to the west and east.
The general thought on this for a moment and then dismissed the scout. He turned his attention on Suleyman.
You heard, slave?' He asked coldly.
Yes, lord. Suleyman replied, eyes down.
'And what do you think?
I am only a slave, I do not think, Suleyman replied, sarcastically. He recieved a heavy slap to the face and reeled backwards, hands up for protection.
Tell me what you think Growled Gazi.
Maybe they are pulling back, returning to Khazar, and these two-thousand troops are just a rear-guard The prince answered quickly, rubbing at his bruised cheek.
Maybe, the general returned to his coffee. I don't think so. I think they are out there, somewhere. But, how do you hide ten-thousand men and about as many horses? It's unimaginable.
Maybe they're marching for Tblinka, to burn our ports and farms. Starve us?
But what would they eat? No... I think it is simply that they are doing this to strike fear into our fighter's hearts. Now it is bad enough, the men talk of Mongol ghost warriors haunting every forest and wheat-field. They want to defeat us before they ever meet us in battle. Your first lesson, boy, fear kills more men then swords, spears or arrows. The Spartans knew this, as did the Persians and the Romans. Some of the greatest armies were defeated by rumours and superstitions.
What can you do to fight this? Suleyman asked, still shaken from the blow he'd recieved.
One must make sure he is not leading rabble into the field. Well armed peasants are still peasants, untrained and undisciplined. Experience and constant drilling make all the difference, this is why the armies of the Latins are no match for us: they conscript too many commoners with no experience into their armies. Our men are good, perhaps some of the younger troops will have bad dreams, but the veterans know that these Mongols are men like everyone else. They'll keep the others in line.
Gazi took another drink of his coffee and waved Suleyman away, apparently his lesson was over.

Later, his duties done with, Suleyman retired to his tent to sleep. Usually when he came in his five other tentmates, stable boys all, were already in bed and asleep. Tonight, however, the tent seemed empty. At least he thought it was. As he entered rough hands siezed his neck from behind. Suleyman was roughly spun around in the dark and thrown to the floor of the tent, something heavy thudded into his jaw and he lost consciousness.

Slipping in and out of sleep, the prince saw dark forms moving past him on either side. It wasn't until some time later that he realized he'd been carried out of the Turkish camp and into a little copse of trees some distance from the pickets. He now lay on his back, starring up at the starry sky through the canopy of leaves.
What is going on? He tried to say, but could only manage 'what'. His mouth barely worked, and his head felt very light.
Shhhhh, he heard. Don't go wastin' yer words, they'll be yer last.' The voice, he recognized it. Malik The scar-faced guard had carried him out of camp.
Suleyman rolled over to his right side and saw the man's form a little ways off, he was pissing against the side of a tree.
'That's right, little princess, I like to drain my tool before using it. The man laughed his evil, gravelly laugh. Especially on a beauty like yourself
Suleyman tried to get to his feet, but felt very woozy.
'Ohhh, just lie there, pretty, I'll do all the work. Malik walked back slowly to where the prince was lying and knelt down next to the young man, his face inches from the prince's. When he talked, Suleyman felt the mans' hot breath on his face. 'I've never had a noble before, I'll bet you is verrrrry sweet.
The prince swung a hand towards the kris that Malik kept in his belt sheath, but he was too slow, the older man too fast. He caught Suleyman's hand and laughed. Good You got some energy left Malik grabbed the prince by the throat and forced him flat against the ground, as he was climbing on top of the boy a horse rode swiftly past the copse of trees, the rider yelling in Turkish: Mongols Mongols Raise the alarm, we're being attacked
What-- It was all the diversion Suleyman needed, he went after the kris again, this time with Malik looking at something over his shoulder and through the trees.
Malik made an awful gasping as the slender blade cut through his neck and into the soft tissue beyond the skin. Suleyman pushed it with all the strength he could muster and felt it run into bone. He seemed to hear thunder all around him as hot blood flooded over his hands and onto his face and chest. Malik gasped again and stumbled to his feet, his eyes wide and his hands on the kris's handle. He fell back to the ground and died an instant later. Suleyman praised Allah, feeling thankful when suddenly he realized that the thunder he was hearing was not his own heart, but the thunder of thousands of horses hooves. On either side of the small copse of trees was a river of mounted horses all flowing towards the borders of the Turkish camp

[karmastray]

The Education of Prince Suleyman
vol. V


The night-sky was dark, clouds hid the moon and stars from the Earth. In such darkness a man could not see more then a few yards from him without the help of a torch or lantern, and even with them his sight was aided little if he were trying spot anything at a distance. It was this deep-dark, thought the young prince Suleyman, which the Mongol horsemen had used to creep up on the Turks.

The prince was stuck in a precarious position, earlier in the night one of his general/master's men had stolen him from camp and brought him out here to a small copse of trees a couple of hundred yards from the border of the Turk's army encampment. The man, named Malik, a warrior with the army, had planned on raping and killing the young slave-prince in revenge for a past greivance. Suleyman had got the better of him, though, and now his corpse lay on the ground a few feet from the princes hiding spot, a dagger jammed into his throat. From Suleyman's hiding spot, a tree to one side of him and a small boulder to the other, he peeked out at the barbarian horsemen. Through the heavy nightblanket he could make out only a few dozen men riding hard toward the Turkish camp, but the constant thundering of hooves on soft earth told him there were thousands more out there.

Suleyman wasn't a very devout or pious Muslim at best of times, but a situation like the one he was trapped in forces a man to make certain decisions about his religous beliefs.

Merciful Allah, he muttered. Guide me away from certain death and I shall be your slave forever Almost as soon as he finished his short prayer one of the mongol warriors crashed through Suleyman's hiding place from the direction of the Turkish camp, his horse crashing to the ground, arrows sticking from it's neck and flank The man was thrown a few yards from his dead beast and cried out as he hit the ground just a few feet from Suleyman. The prince watched silently as the man tried to stand, then fell back to the ground, one of his legs obviously broken. The mongol's eyes flicked around the small island of trees and then, with surpise, noticed the young prince.

The barbarian said something in a questioning tone, perhaps thinking Suleyman was one of his comrades taking cover or hiding from the battle. The prince simply nodded, as if in agreement and muttered something unintelligible. Slowly, Suleyman began making his way over to Maliks corpse. The mongol said something again, this time harsher, his barbarian tongue sounding even more alien then the varied languages of the Latins. Suleyman didn't answer this time, he trotted over to his dead enemy and ripped the kris from the mans throat. The Mongol shouted something and, using a tree as support, pulled himself to one leg, while unsheathing a nasty looking short sword. Again the Mongol yelled out, trying to get the attention of his companions.

Quiet Suleyman hissed, and again the Mongol yelled and continued to yell. In a rush the prince moved toward the wounded Mongol, his kris held at the ready. The barbarian swung his blade swiftly at Suleyman, and the prince leapt back to avoid the stroke which certainly would have eviscirated him. Suleyman stabbed the dagger towards the Mongol's chest and scored, but his blade was turned aside by the tough leather and animal skin the man wore as armour. The Mongol instantly grabbed at Suleymans knife arm with one hand and brought the hilt of his blade up to smash at the prince's head. Suleyman was barely able to bring his arm up to deflect the blow in time, and he was rocked to the side by the impact of the strike to his forearm. The barbarian rose his blade to swing down upon Suleymans head, but the young prince swung his elbow in at the Mongols face, smashing the wounded mans nose flat against his left cheek. With a cry, the Mongol lost his balance and, grasping at the prince, fell to the ground with Suleyman on top of him. Enraged, the prince stabbed at the man until he realized -- it seemed much later to him -- that the barbarian was dead.

Suleyman, after sitting, his back to a tree and his head in his hands, for a long while slowly got to his feet. Beyond him, in the blackness of the night, he heard a fierce battle raging. He could hear bows twanging and arrows whistling through the air, men screaming anger and curses and horses screaming their deaths in oddly human ways. He could see the torches of the Turkish camp not three-hundred yards away and between him and those torches he made out a myriad of shadows and night-forms: Horses charging against the pike-wall which made up the outter fortification of the camp near the base of the hill the camp was situated on, mounted archers firing into the camp and, within the pikewall, Turkish archers firing their bows into the army of Mongol phantoms.

Finally regaining his courage, his heart still thumping heavily in his chest, Suleyman stripped the Mongol of his bloodied armour and furs. He dressed himself in the barbarian's smelly accoutrements and strapped on the man's swordsling and the case for his bow and arrows then, with a deep breath, he rushed out of his hiding place.

He ran out into the field just as the clouds broke for a moment and the whole area was bathed in soft, silvery light.
He saw clearly the chaotic melee before him, the moon's light glinting off the spears and armour of the Mongol raiders, thousands upon thousands, a seeming swarm of snakes all writhing upon the ground. He saw them going up against the pikewall, swiping at it with the swords, trying to break holes into it, beyond Turkish spearmen stabbed at the barbarians through the wall. Clouds of arrows, some afire, lofted into the camp, looking far too innocent and beautiful to be a tool of death. Clouds of arrows flew from the camp as well, and, in the soft light, Suleyman could make out horses and men lying here and there, like they'd grown tired of the battle and decided to take a nap right in the field.

As fast as the moon had peeked out from the clouds it was gone again, and the land fell back into darkness, broken here and there by the fire of the torches, and another fire building within the camp itself. Suleyman began to run for the apparent right flank of the engagement, hoping to make it around the Mongols and to the other side of the encampment, to the gate there. He made it only a hundred yards or so before a Mongol horsemen, leading another horse without it's rider, rode up to Suleyman. The barbarian barked something at the prince, then again. In the pale light, Suleyman saw suspiscion grow on the mans face. The Mongol yelled at him one more time, then cast aside the reigns to the other horse and began riding his mount in a wide circle around the young prince. With a silent prayer to Allah, Suleyman drew his Mongol short sword and prepared to meet the rider. The barbarian wheeled his mount toward the prince, shouted something and drew back his own blade, his horse leaping to full gallop. Behind him, Suleyman heard the thunder of more hooves. No escape, he realized and began to trot to the right, trying to find a good position in which to fight his last (and nearly his first) battle. The thunder behind him grew louder, as the horseman in front of him grew closer. Suddenly the Mongol gave another yell and again wheeled his horse around, galloping furiously away from the prince. All around the young man was the shout -- in Turkish -- DEATH DEATH IS RIDING FOR YOU While a horde of cavalry -- Armenians -- rumbled like an earthquake toward the Mongol's flank. As the Armenians roared past him on both sides the prince rose his sword into the air and shouted praise for Allah and the Turkish army

Suddenly and without warning something heavy thudded into the back of Suleymans head and he was sent hurtling through the ground and into darkness even deeper then that of that hell-tinged night.



Stay tuned for more adventures of Suleyman, the Slave Prince

[Mount Suribachi]

OK, I've not read all these storys (tho I will). But surely these should be posted in their own non-sticky threads...? I very nearly missed them till I thought I wonder what people are discussing in the sticky...

Or is posting them in a sticky a way to achieve everlasting fame? hehe http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

[Marshal Murat]

Marching to battle, Byzantine infantry confront the Turkish enemy. yell ing in a triumphant voice, the Emperor, his two sons and the General thank the lod that the Turks are willing to battle. Marching forward to a hill crest, the infantry line up for battle, behind are multiple Trebzoind Archers. At the flanks Kats hold the flanks. Chargeing, the infantry yell thier battle cry. Lead by Alexius Comenaus son Alexius II they crash into the light elements. Following behind are the Kats. In the ensueing battle, thousands of Infantry push the light Turks. Then the trap is sprung. From the forest, masses of Ghulam calvary charge into the fray. The Trebzoind archers flood in to help. In a trap the men fight for thier lives. Then a voice echoes in Alexius ears Head to your homeland straight, and follow the star to there go Seeing a star in the sky, he charges in that direction. Crashing into the weakest point the Turks crumble.
Ok pretty dry, but it sort of late for me.

[Mount Suribachi]

Karmastray I love the story of Prince Suleyman...he's only been in camp a couple of days and you've taken 5 posts already I reckon the 4 year apprenticeship could take a whole book http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

Keep up the good work. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/pat.gif

[karmastray]

Quote[/b] (Mount Suribachi @ Aug. 30 2003,09:47)]Karmastray I love the story of Prince Suleyman...he's only been in camp a couple of days and you've taken 5 posts already I reckon the 4 year apprenticeship could take a whole book http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

Keep up the good work. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/pat.gif
OY Don't I know it and believe me I never planned out the story, well, I did, but I only had it pegged for a couple of posts, five at the most Anyway, the original story was gonna be the prince going to meet the famous bad-ass general en route to kill the mongols, and on the way the general would tell the prince stories of all the victories and conquests of his life.. loosely based on the general i used in M:TW to defeat the Byzantines and Hungarians. It's also based on the fact that all my heirs in the game right now suck much ass and must be sent in to certain victories so that they can slowly gain command stars. (I'm a little nervous of using a 2-star general in a major battle )

Anyhow, I didn't know if I should let some other people post here since I've taken up a hell of a lot of room http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/smile.gif

ps thanks for telling me you liked it
pps I am gonna hit the ol' advance time rate button after the war with the mongols ends and have him do a couple years of his slave-time off screen.

[karmastray]

The Education of Prince Suleyman
vol. VI


The slave/prince Suleyman gradually became aware that he was alive. First it was a pounding headache, a dagger being pushed into the back of his skull it felt like. Next it was the clamy-chilliness against the right side of his face, that wet chill slowly spread down his neck to his torso, then to his arms and legs (which he realized were spread eagled on the ground) and then finally to his toes and fingers. Off in the distance he could hear yelling, constant yelling that seemed to encompass the whole world. He could tell it was only one or two men at most, but he couldn't make out any of the words. He didn't have the strength to push himself to his feet, nor could he force his eyes open. In a panic he tried to scream out for help, but he could only make a slight noise in the back of his throat.

A cold drizzle fell over the prone Suleyman and his thougts turned dark. Perhaps I am dead,he thought morosely. And this is purgatory.. I do not deserve this I fought like a man, I should not be dead A sob shook his body, but suddenly he understood the yelling he was hearing. An Alim Calling all the faithful to prayers I am alive Praise you, merciful Allah I am yours for all my days
Bringing what little strength he could he managed to force his eyes open. The first thing he saw was a dead horse, eyes bulging and tongue hanging out of it's mouth. It's neck and flank bristled with at least a dozen arrows. Slowly he managed to bring his hands in close to his body, then managed to force his body off the ground. His headache flaired hotly in his head and he managed a croaking moan. Slowly his strength came back, not much, but enough to allow him to attempt prostrations for his Lord.

Never in the young princes life had he ever voluntarily prayed, but today he found new belief in the face of the previous nights carnage. He managed to keep up, bowing into the soggy ground in the direction which he thought was correct, until the unseen Alim's voice finally stopped, ending with a prayer for those who had fallen and the knowledge that they had certainly died as brave Muslim warriors and had found Paradise.

Not long later, the prince sitting on the ground, his head spinning he heard more shouts. Over there There's one, get him Suleyman looked around and saw a couple Turkish soldiers heading in his direction.

Brothers He shouted weakly, and saw the couple start. I am one of you Hurt on the field of battle
The two men ran over to the prince, eyed the stolen Mongol armour and hide coat that he wore and then their eyes opened in recognition. Both knelt to the ground.

My prince One said excitedly. We're sorry we didn't recognize you right away Are you hurt?
I cannot walk, Suleyman answered, his head flaring hotter with the effort of the conversation. Take me to the general.. at once.
My Lord' The soldier said, taking in the young man with the deep, angry black eyes. 'You are wounded, we will carry you to the aid tent, you should be looked after by one of our learned healers
No Ta-- was all the prince managed before he fell back into darkness.

When next he woke he heard the sound of a heavy rain beating on the roof of a tent. He opened his eyes, much easier this time, and looked around. It was his tent, he recognized that much. His headache was much less painful now and he slowly sat up in his straw pallet.
I'll fetch the general, Prince Suleyman. He heard a voice say, then the patter of feet running out of the tent. Outside he could hear the bark of men yelling orders and doing some kind of heavy work.

A few moments later the grizzled visage of old General Gazi filled the doorway.
You have made it The man sounded surprised, his eyes glimmering with dark humor.
What did you expect, the prince replied with a hint of anger in his voice. Or did you send your friend to kill me in that dark wood.
What? Gazi replied, stepping into the tent and standing over Suleyman. 'I thought you had run away when the Mongols raided us that night. What do you mean my friend? And how in hell did you get dressed up as a Mongol?

Suleyman's eyes softened, deep in his heart he'd known that the General wouldn't have him killed by an assassin, that was the cowards way, if the old man ever wanted rid of the prince he would do it himself. Taking a breath, Suleyman related the events of that night, starting with Malik kidnapping him from this very tent and taking him to that nightmarish copse of trees, to the Mongols interrupting that perverse man and to his death by Suleyman's hand. He ended with the Armenian cavalrymen saving his life and that he could remember no more, he awoke on the muddy ground this morning and prayed to Allah for thanksgiving.

The old man chuckled at the end of the story, Son, you awoke three days ago on that muddy field, then passed out again. You've been sleeping here ever since, the Alims didn't think you'd survive your coma. Perhaps Allah had trouble making up his mind if he wanted you in Paradise, messing things up yet It looks like he is going to wait a while The general broke into laughter and slowly it infected the prince. He'd had very little to laugh about lately, it felt good.

For a while the two men laughed together, then the general filled the prince in on what had happend and what was happening now. The Mongols hadn't launched a full attack, just a raid meant to sow fear into the hearts of the Turks. Fortunatly the Turks managed to beat away the Mongols on one side of the camp rather quickly, they then managed to get a few companies of Armenian cavalry out of the gate on that side and drive them around to hit the Mongols on one flank. Meanwhile Turkish spearmen marched around to the other flank. The Armenians hit first and wreaked so much havok on that side of the enemy that the site of spearmen marching quickly to attack the other flank caused the enemy general to decide that the raid had served it's purpose and the Mongol's faded back in to the night as quickly as they'd come out of it. The next day, Turkish outriders had found the bodies of most of their sentries dead out in their far positions. Somehow the Mongols had managed to creep up and kill them before they'd been able to raise the alarm. Just the one that saved Suleyman's life by shouting the warning had survived -- he'd been off s**ting in some bushes when the Mongols had killed his fellow watchmen.

Now, Gazi said, his dark eyes glinting with eagerness. My men have seen that the Mongol is not a ghost or a phantom. They can be killed The men are hungry for blood

The Mongols, the general explained, had been sighted by Turkish scouts about 20 miles to the east. They'd set fire to two more hamlets after raiding them for food and other supplies. But it appeared that they were running out of provisions. Even if they sacked every village from here to Armenia there wouldn't be enough food to sustain an army of fifteen thousand men and their horses for very long.

I think they're through with their raiding,' Gazi went on. They're ready for the deciding battle. Right now my men are taking down camp and making ready to march to meet these barbarian raiders. He didn't mention that when he'd seen their dead bodies that they looked surprisingly like native Turks, though some had eyes that were slanted. Your armor is over there, the general pointed to a corner and Suleyman saw his captured Mongol battle dress and sword. They'd been cleaned it looked. Wear it, you've earned it.

Two days later, marching through mud and rain, the Turks cleared the forest they'd been nervously marching through and finally spotted the Mongol army, already in formation and perched on the side of a small hill a mile or so off.

'The will of Allah be with us today,' Suleyman heard Gazi say quietly to himself. 'For we will most certainly need it

que up the tense music annnnnnd CUT

to be continued

[Marshal Murat]

Im not quite an artist but here it goes
THE UNFASHIONABLE SCOTSMEN
My goodness, these plad kilts clash with my polka dot armor, I can't belive this screeches the general from his tent, and he strides out, his clan tartan truly clashing with a blue and brown polka dot armor. I wanted to show my wife, I have a true fashion sense, I mean really roars the general as he walks though the camp. Whispering and laughing the soldiers point at him. A message from the lord Henrico, asking if you have any eyes yells a man from the camp, and the general storms off. Walking behind him we find Cedric and Atheralds sons Chester and Norberrt. I can't belive my tailor made my kilt sky blue he grumbles to Norberrt. Well its better than the kings replies a annoyed Norberrt. Well as my mom said, my father was totally unatractive in the sky blue uniform, the only thing was that he was in a fierce battle against the Vikings replies a mopeing Chester. I thought your father made remarks on the battle and sat on his butt all though the battle laughs aloud Norberrt. Walking up, Lord Gregory stifles a laugh, and in a trying serious tone he orders we are to battle in a few hours so get your weapons. Hearing him under his breath Chester sworn he could have heard him say why am I stuck with color blind fashion idiots Three hours later the whole army is assembled outside a small town. A messenger rides up to the general, who is now trembling with anger. the messenger declares to him The Lord of Henrico of England asks for a truce, and to take you to a tailors in Paris to get some fashionable clothes. Snickering, they stop when the general gives them a cold stare. Waving the messenger away he declares to the troops since you think my clothes are so funny, i'll give some to you and he has them all put on polka dot shirts over their armor, totally clashing with thier clan tartans. Well at least we look alot better then the other troops whispers Norberrt to Chester, who looks disgrundled. I bet right now, the enemy thinks we are an army of cross dressers replies Chester. Suddenly a horn blows and from across the field three lines of English troops march to attack the Scotsmen. Yelling and screaming, the scotmen charge, yelling warcries. As they approach, the English soldiers break down in laughter, laying on the ground rolling in glee at the scots in plad and polka dots. As the knights approach they also break down in laughter, some falling off thier horses. Looking at thier clothes, they walk away in disgrace, not ever drawing thier swords.....
Ok its not a masterpiece but it works
also i never ment to hurt the feelings of any scotsmen, or any others that might be offended by this passage.

[Marshal Murat]

Ok last post a little quirky
Emperor Unknown
Acending a throne in the Hagia Sophia, a prince walks to be coronated. Only surrounded by his most trusted guards, in the dead of night is a secret ceremony. A few minutes later the prince is now Emperor Leothodius. Motioning to his guards they rush out the door. Walking out, he discards the regalia. Doning a messangers cloak he rides to his half fathers palace. Climbing to the chamber he sees him fast asleep. Drawing a Bulgarian knife, he stabs his half father in the heart. Withdrawing into the knight. Emperor Reamus of Greece has been killed announces a noble from his horse Prince Leothodius is now Emperor Marching to the chamber the prince cries aloud Oh my father and the prince draws the knife. Look all the world what Bulgaria has done. Storming out, he mounts his horse. I am takeing my army to destroy these rebellious foes. Riding out to the barracks he summons his men. Showing a guard the scroll all the army assembles. I ask you to follow me and crush the Bulgarian ursurpers and he is met with a roar of jubilation. Riding out he attracts followers.
three weeks later.
Riding his horse among the Greek rebels, Emperor Leothodius spears on in the chest and draws his bow and arrow. Shooting as fast as he can, he sends many Greeks to Hades. Blood splatters his regalia, and arrows lodge in his armor. Surgeing forward in a vain attempt, his lancers try to help. Suddenly, a spearmen knocks him off his horse, crashing to the ground. The voices grow fainter as he sits on the ground, the stench of blood everywhere....