Leo III the Syrian [Archive]

kataphraktoi

01-16-2004, 07:14

Chap 2: “HOW LONG TO GERMANCEA?”
The road to Germanicea

“Mutasim, how long do we reach Germanicea?”

“Soon my Amir”

“When can we draw up our siege engines?”

“I recommend we do so in the morning, I believe it will be too dark”

“Inshallah, may the morning come soon. The slave markets in Dimashaq (Damascus) is waiting for our successful outcome” laughed the Amir as he passed a wry smile to Muta.

Mutasim winced at the haughty and dark humour of his master, the Amir of Aleppo, Mahmud al Matuk. The word “slave market” was a searing wound in opening memories he would rather forget. Mutasim was once a slave from the same markets of Damascus, when he was captured as a boy when the Saracens destroyed his village on the Euphrates. Mutasim was also once the boy called Simeon, after the famous Stylite and a Christian Monophysite. When the Saracens sent him to Damascus, he was bought by his current master for a few paltry bronze coins. At once he was converted to Islam by the Amir and taught the ways of the Prophet and the submission to the God Allah, strangely familiar to his Christian God but more powerful and dynamic in the lives of the Saracens. By the time he was a teenager, he was set free as an adult due to the ruling that Muslims cannot be slaves to a Muslim in consideration of the close brotherhood that existed, in theory, between fellow servants of Allah. With nowhere to go and everything to gain in the service of the Amir he worked his way from personal shield bearer to become a trusted general in all military matters through his valour and energy on the battlefield. Even then, sadness comes upon Mutasim occasionally whenever the word “slave” is mentioned. Teaching himself the art of suppression.. He continues with his life and forgets the past. But the past sometimes will not forget. So while his master jibes him in the name of humour, it is lost on him. The only thing inside him laughing is the inner demon threatening to tear him apart.

In the midst of his reminiscence, a trumpet blares loudly into the night. The cry of “Allahu Akhbar” rises up from the kinetic mass of Muslim warriors rudely awakening Mutasim from his reflections. His demeanour suddenly changes. Before him were the modest walls of the town of Germanicea. Unfortunately, the nightfall is encroaching on the dying skyline making it difficult to prosecute the capture of the town.

Turning to an officer beside him he gives the order for the Saracens to set up camp for the night.

The Amir places his hand on Mutasim:

“Ah Mutasim, I am glad you are always on hand to help me. I am but an old warrior now. Yet the Caliph insists on me fighting his wars for him. I’m afraid he is asking the wrong man”

“No my Amir, it is your reputation that draws the armies of the Prophet. Allah has blessed you as his sword against the Romans”

“Lovely words, but alas, I know what the truth is. You are the great warrior now.”

“If it pleases the Amir”

“I know this to be true, I have seen it. You have grown into a strong warrior. My sons will not appreciate your service, they are busy chasing slave girls and stocking their Harems”

“I will serve them as I have served you”

“I hope so. May Allah, the merciful and the wise deem it so”

“Inshallah”

“Come, let us rest. Tomorrow we conquer Germanicea, perhaps the world if I live to a ripe old age”

“I will have your servants set your tent up my Amir.”

As Mutasim camped for the night before the walls of Germanicea, he returns to the dark prison of his dreams repeating the same mantra as he has done every night.

“There is no past, only the future”

Chap3: GOD FORGIVES ALL
Monastery of the True Cross, south of Iconium

“Sergius, it is time to eat”

“I’m not hungry Anastasius”

“Why? Are you fasting?”

“No”

“Since you came here in your kaballarika uniform I have hardly seen you touch any food, starving will bring you to closer to God, much much earlier”

“Anastasius, you are a morbid fellow, what did you do before coming here?”

“I use to run a brothel”

“So what are you doing here?”

“Free food and place in the afterlife upstairs, besides, the supply of women were dwindling. Most of them are in the slave markets of the Saracens”

“You are a strange fellow”

“Not as strange as you. Tell me what’s really going on Sergius?

“You spend most of your time in the library reading, writing and praying, even sleeping in the library. I fear the abbot will not respond kindly to his books having marks of drool on his precious manuscripts of gold and rich paint from the markets of Constantinople”

“I have been having dark dreams of late Anastasius. I cannot escape it. Peace is elusive. Hope is a fading mirage.

I was hoping to escape war, but war is a demon that is always chasing after me. But then I realised I was that demon”

“Have you learnt nothing? God forgives all sins”

“Forgiveness, for what I have done?”

“What have you done? Defended the Roman state, killed the enemies of Christ and protected its inhabitants?”

“It is not that simple. I enjoyed what I did.”

“We all enjoyed our vices at one stage”

“I still enjoy these same vices, I even long for them. My hands still yearn for the sword and lance. It cries out for a bow and an arrow. It grasps into thin air for a weapon, anything to inflict and spill blood. I have to conquer it”

“You are not a monk Sergius. You are a warrior”

“I am not”

“Yes, you are. There is no demon chasing you, only your destiny. The Roman state is running our of soldiers when warriors like you run away from your duty”

“Why don’t you join the army since you are so keen?”

“Where are your eyes Sergius? I am old, lame and have never handled a sword in my whole life, not to mention a bit fat around the edges from the excellent wines in the refectory cellar and not to mention, the excellent fat dripping meat off the bone”

“Just remember in case you decide to try something like eating for once. God forgives all”

kataphraktoi

01-16-2004, 07:18

Chap 4: KYRIE ELEISON
Germanicea Citadel

Nicetas was pacing to and fro across the ramparts. A combination of guilt and anger drove his repetitive exercise to the annoyance of the nervous militia soldiers watching with intent the Saracen host. Next to him was the calm and silent figure of his assistant officer Arcadius.

“Arcadius, how many Saracens are there?”

“I estimate at least 30,000 sir”

“We will never survive”

“We all know this already, so we wait and die?”

“You know I don’t like this at all, what can I do?”

“Fight like a man and die”

Nicetas was about to grab his assistant officer and push towards the floor but realised he was right. Germanicea was his responsibility, he failed. He deserved death, but not the people he was meant to protect.

“Holy Mother of God, forgive me” muttered Nicetas.

Nicetas walked into his office and locked the door. Sitting in his chair he drew out a short sword. He had often read about the old Roman solution to life’s troubles. Upholding tradition, he fell on his sword. In a few seconds, his body slumped across the table. When the militia found him, the table was drenched in blood. On the floor were his insides that spilled out when the sword cut across his stomach.

By the time they buried his body, the morning sun was already breaking across the distant landscape over Germanicea and with it the inevitability of death.

Arcadius, the assistant now commanding officer of the militia uttered the prayer that would soon be echoed in the hollow eyes of the inhabitants of the citadel:

“Kyrie Eleison”

Arcadius then turned to the militia of the citadel:

“We march out; we do our duty and pray for mercy. The Saracens will give us none and we will not give them any”

The desperate citizens of Germanicea that were banging at the gates of the citadel had already dispersed. Disillusioned by the failure of the militia to protect them, they were resolved to inevitable death and manned the walls. To their surprise, however, the militia force marched out and joined the very people they were supposed to protect. It was an embarrassing episode in the history of the town of cowardice and betrayal. But all was forgotten as they directed their attention to the Saracen army setting up their siege and assault machines against the walls of Germanicea.

The first stone was cast.

Chap 5: ATTACK
Germanicea under attack

The Saracen army woke up at the ascent of the sun to prepare their equipment for the day’s assault on the town. It was an awesome array of weapons that was displayed and aimed at the town’s walls. Ballistas, Onagers, Trebuchets and other powerful weapons were present. No expense was spared by the Saracen army, they after all, the armies of Allah. They deserved the best equipment; the wealth of the Caliphate could buy.

Mutasim observed this intimidating display with satisfaction. While his engineers were busy supervising their proud weapons, he ordered the rest of the Saracen army to sort themselves into regiments in preparation to storm Germanicea. Each regiment was provided with a steady core of elite Ghulam infantrymen, handpicked personally by the Amir to be the vanguard of his forces. Despite the size of his army, Mutasim had no illusions about the real quality of his army. Most were light foot archers with little of no armour. Their discipline was appalling but at least they were motivated to the point of invincible fanaticsm which has proved in the past to be a good offensive weapon. Sighing in disappointment, he was at least happy that the Ghulams were competent enough and intimidating to keep the rest in tow and under control.

The Amir, meanwhile, was sitting impassively under the shade of a tent with a few advisors over a game of chess discussing some finer points of theology waiting for the siege to be initiated. When the first stone hit the walls of Germanicea, all eyes were on Mutasim.

Riding backwards and forth, encouraging his men and exhorting them, Muta barked orders in rapid succession as his siege and assault weapons mercilessly pounded the walls of Germanicea. On horseback, Mutasim was able to see the handiwork of his machines. Already, some breaches have been made, but they were too small. He could also see some casualties within the town as men fell from the walls after being maimed by a projectile or two. Suffice to say, it was a horrid affair to witness.

Calculating and processing through his mind, Mutasim estimated that by the afternoon, Germanicea will fall. The Romans will be defeated.

Ludens

01-16-2004, 17:26

This is very good indeed. Is this really your first story?

frogbeastegg

01-16-2004, 17:33

Quote[/b] (kataphraktoi @ Jan. 15 2004,16:33)]A peasant boy who becomes a famous warrior and a great Emperor.

A former slave who tries to run from his past only to embrace it.

A young warrior turned monk who would return to his old profession as the forces of Islam threaten the existence of his faith.

All three will be interwhined in the greatest struggle in their lives in the epic conflicts between Byzantium and the dangerous expansionist Ummayad Caliphate in the late 7th and early 8th century.

Based on the “true” fictional story of a dark age campaign mod
Good to see I'm not the only one writing something that sounds like the trailer for a movie http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif Just joking, that was a good read.

This comment bought to you by froggy's hopeless comments©

kataphraktoi

01-16-2004, 18:02

Yeap, its my first story, been wanting to do it for ages but never got the courage.

Besides, this was always in my mind as some sort of mental movie.

Froggy's comments are never hopeless, mere mortals understand it as hopeless. Giggle.

U remind me of a friend who likes frogs.

Chap 6: FALLING WALLS
The siege of Germanicea

Arcadius watched in horror as the walls of the town slowly crumbled. It wasn’t because he expected the walls to be impenetrable; it was because he didn’t expect it to crumble so quickly. Still, there is hope. He quickly ordered a stockade to be hastily built in the exposed sections of the walls with rubble being used as an effective absorber of missile weapons.

For 3 hours, Germanicea was continually pounded. There was no respite. No pause for breath. The enemy was resolved to take the town. The Romans of Germanicea were resolved to keep it. Every man, woman and child knew the consequences of the fall of Germanicea. They’ve heard the tales, they’ve seen the refugees, and finally, they’ve lost relatives as a result. But by now, a quarter of those men, women and children were now dead under the merciless barrage. And with a quarter of Germanicea’s inhabitants dead were nearly half of the walls. The walls could not be stockaded everywhere, nor could it effectively hold off Saracen projectiles indefinitely. As the last of projectiles were fired at the walls of Germanicea, Arcadius ordered his militia to stand in the breaches and wait for the enemy. Similarly, he ordered the non-combatants and semi-combatants to make a stand and grab any weapon they could. Slowly, Arcadius surveyed the stretch of decrepit walls that once ringed Germanicea in a secure embrace.

“Walls cannot protect us now. The walls of Germanicea will be our shroud. Better to die a free man than a Saracen slave” he uttered to a militia soldier beside him.

Chap 7: “SHOW YOUR DEEDS MEN OF ISLAM”
The assault on the breaches

“GHULAMS PREPARE YOUR MEN” ordered Mutasim

The Ghulams formed the frontline of every regiment. Behind them were the inferior troops. But fierce warriors they are, they reputation is such that men will follow them. And, if men will not follow them, the Ghulams have been empowered to execute men who show sign of cowardice. The soldiers of Islam have no fear. Allah is with them.

Brought up as slaves like Mutasim, the Ghulams were trained exclusively as elite armoured infantry archers. Being the elite of the Caliphate forces, they are superbly equipped in that role: mail shirts underneath strong lamellar cuirasses with arm guards of iron plate. They were also dressed in a scarlet uniform accompanied by finely made leather boots beneath their armour. On their helmets are etched the Shahada: “There is no God but Allah and Muhammed is his messenger” In terms of arms, they were equipped along with their bows high-quality swords made by the metalsmiths of Damascus as well as a fine dagger attached to their belts. However, their favoured weapon after the bow were their battle axes, used to penetrate armour and cause horrific injury with death the desired effect.

“Show your deeds men of Islam” cried Mutasim and then gave the final signal.

With the blow of the trumpet the Ghulams led their regiments against Germanicea. They were placed around the town so as to attack on multiple fronts.
Soon the Ghulams and their regiments reached the walls with the war-cry of “Allahu Akhbar” like the warriors of early Islam nearly a century ago. The militia held firm behind their large shields as the weight and force of the Muslim shock-action smashed into them like a strong current in a river. Armed with a cutting saber, the militias were able to fight through the gaps and cunningly caught some Ghulams in an uncomfortable situation so as to pick them off easily. Suddenly, the militias caved in. The Ghulams were propelled forward by the incoming masses of their men behind them in an irresistible momentum of fanaticism and zeal. The Saracens poured through some of the breaches this way but others were still held up by the desperate actions of the militia. However, they were caught off guard as the rest of Germanicea’s inhabitants fell upon them. The unexpected force of attack by civilians initially had the Ghulams on a backfoot but recovering from this situation, they rallied their men and soon the battle within the walls of Germanicea resembled something to their liking.

The bravery of Germanicea’s inhabitants were undoubted, but even bravery could not stand up against military forces such as the Saracens. With the Ghulams leading them, they stood little chance in the long term. Customary slaughter of a resisting enemy populace was soon setting in. The soldiers of the Caliphate sensed victory. Rejuvenated by the rewards of victory, their efforts were redoubled in the vicious one-sided melee.

Soon, the 30,000 or so Saracen army poured through the city like water, the surviving militias fought to the death. As for the surviving inhabitants it was too late to run to the citadel. The citadel was already closed by the handful of frightened civilians who reached it first. But the slaughter was abruptly stopped when Mutasim rode through the battered walls and raised his right arm and ordered the ceasing of hostilities.

As silence fell through the ranks, only one part of the city was still alive with fighting.

Chap 8: DIE A FREE MAN THAN A SARACEN SLAVE
The last resistance in Germanicea

Arcadius and his surrounding companions were still holding their ground against the overwhelming odds of the Saracens. While defeat was already assured, they fought on.
On a lonely part of the remaining walls of Germanicea, Arcadius swung madly at all oncoming Saracen soldiers. To the surprise of the Saracens, many Ghulams were slaughtered at his feet and by his surviving soldiers. Finally, the death knell fell upon Arcadius. A well aimed arrow pierced the exposed gap between his lamellar armour. Arcadius dropped to his knees, his sword clattered on the floor, his right hand grabbing his neck.
Soon all his men were all killed. Then he fell, his eyes staring vacantly into the afternoon clear blue sky. He died a free man.

Mutasim commenced the three days of looting. But he sternly warned his soldiers about raping women and killing children. They were to be inviolate and spared for the slave markets of Damascus. A hand was placed in his shoulder and he turned around to see the Amir congratulating him on his successful capture of the town.

“Victorious again.”

“As Allah wills”

“Yes, as Allah wills”

“I see there are many survivors, they should fetch a nice fortune in the markets”

“I have ordered the Ghulams to gather them and tie them up. At least 10,000 are in our possession”

“And what off the citadel?”

“I will leave them there. They will not last for long”

“I trust you will do the right thing. As for me I will appoint the necessary men to administer this town as the new property of the Caliphate. New Muslim migrants will soon take their place in this city.”

“Very wise”

“Come, let us enjoy some refreshments. You deserve it. You may be a master on the battlefield Mutasim, but be warned I am the master of chess”

Monk

01-16-2004, 18:13

Very good, this has got my interest. Continue on kataphraktoi. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-2thumbsup.gif

This reminds me though, i should get back to work on my little story. *sigh* it seems to have almost died out due to my Research for that Europa Barbarorum movement. Well back to work as they say http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-book2.gif

kataphraktoi

01-16-2004, 18:14

I will try and post in 2 chapters at a time. I intend to make them longer and try to enhance the narrative of the story.

Sneaky preview of the chaps 9 and 10

- Spoiler

- A little more about the peasant boy Leo
- Mutasim experiences a reversal of roles
- The very first battle between the Saracens and the Romans
on the field of battle

frogbeastegg

01-16-2004, 18:36

A congregation of 3 people, all of whom are writing some kind of series. Only one of them is keeping it going at a decent pace - well done kataphraktoi, you got both Monk and myself beat For a first story this is really something. Keep going http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/smile.gif

And Monk you can't let your latest die unfinished. Firstly I do the unfinished stories around here and there is only room for one person with that bad habit. Secondly I am saving my comments until it is finished so you had better finish it or I will have wasted all that effort trying (and failing) to think up a good comment. Consider yourself threatened http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif

Monk

01-16-2004, 18:42

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ Jan. 16 2004,12:36)]A congregation of 3 people, all of whom are writing some kind of series. Only one of them is keeping it going at a decent pace - well done kataphraktoi, you got both Monk and myself beat For a first story this is really something. Keep going http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/smile.gif

And Monk you can't let your latest die unfinished. Firstly I do the unfinished stories around here and there is only room for one person with that bad habit. Secondly I am saving my comments until it is finished so you had better finish it or I will have wasted all that effort trying (and failing) to think up a good comment. Consider yourself threatened http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif
Hmm i see your point lady Frog.

:Notices the 5,000 samuri behind froggy waiting to attack:

Yeah I'm just gonna get on that, if i don't i have a feeling the entire .org will have my head. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-behead.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-jester.gif

kataphraktoi

01-16-2004, 18:58

Funnily enough Monk's masters of the world got me thinking of having a crack. I loved Monk's riveting pace and storytelling. SO please don't stop Monk. When I need to plagiarise good wrting skills I look to the one and only Monk.

Heres a little outtake that was in the Microsoft Word doc file of my story.

It was after the synopsis.

Inspired by Monk, the greatest storyteller of our time. St. Monk, patron saint of the Mead Hall.

Saint Monk, full of grace and ink,
Lead our pen lest wine seizes our hands,
Help us write good stories so we may impress women,
May our head be filled with storylines instead of lust,
Give us pen nibs so we can write,
Inspire us because the dark ages are boring,
Get a good word in for us at the tavern,
We need free food and free beer cos we’re too cheap,
May we plagiarise your skills and claim them as our own,
In the name of Saint Monk, full of grace and ink

8th century totalwar.org prayer, Attributed to Hermes of Athens

http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-thumbsup.gif heeheehee.... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-2thumbsup.gif

kataphraktoi

01-16-2004, 19:05

Chap 9: EXODUS
The unexpected redemption

The surviving inhabitants of Germanicea were both lucky and unlucky. They survived the rapacity of the Saracens, but on the other hand, they were now their prisoners destined for the slave markets and sold off to either someone’s harem or to the mines to work till they die.

All this was lost on the small boy Leo. His mother died in the recent fall of Germanicea. He stared at her eyes that gave no warmth or response and understood nothing of death despite the carnage around him. Leo was grabbed by the nearest Ghulam and placed with the rest of the prisoners and sat there in silence until the Saracen army marched away from the town. On the long walk into Muslim territory he was accompanied by his uncle who recognised him and immediately brought him in with the rest of his captive family who survived. At the small town of Shameshek, the Saracen army and its human train stopped for a rest and to re-supply themselves. A few captives were sold off to pay for these supplies and soon they were on the move.

The barefooted Leo experienced pain for the first time. The rocky terrain cut deep into soft tender feet like jagged daggers. In better times, his mother would fuss over the smallest nip on his infant skin. But now, in a time of hopelessness, even a gashing wound would be considered an act of divine clemency. To the puzzlement of his uncle, Leo did not cry or reveal any pain in his face, only a blank expression. The peasant boy of Germanicea was distracted by a much more involving matter of his predicament. Why?
For a boy of three to ask “Why?” was indeed an achievement. But to ask “Why?” amidst such calamity is an exceptional achievement. Why mother? Why pain? Why thirst? Why the horrible vengeance of the sun? Why me?

Without notice, Leo fainted. Once again, the world faded. Graven faces disappeared.

Leo’s uncle commented to himself as he picked the fragile body of his nephew:

“For so little a boy, such is the burden of this world. Should he die, it would be a much better place for him. His innocence will be spared the barbarity of this world.

But who is to say what God has destined? May God grant us a little miracle in this hell”

The miserable train of captives marched for hours on end to an uncertain fate until an unusual pause disrupted the proceeding march of the Saracen army. The Saracens suddenly froze in their tracks as they marched through the mountain passes onto a small flat level terrain. The braggadocio of the Saracens was replaced by an uneasiness so sudden that it was felt by the prisoners.
One of the captives managed to align himself at a favourable angle so as to see for himself the reason behind the halt and the subsequent commotion amongst the Saracen soldiery.

Opposite them was a Roman army in battle formation. Behind them was another Roman army. The Saracen army was surrounded. It was an ambush deep in Muslim territory led by an impressive figure on horseback: the Roman Emperor Justinian II. Lord, not only of the Roman Empire, but Lord of the Roman prisoners and the Roman city of Germanicea that had fallen to the Caliphate of the Saracens.

Redemption was at hand, unexpectedly.

kataphraktoi

01-16-2004, 19:07

Chap 10: BATTLE OF THE PASSES (Part A)
Annihilation of the Saracen army

The surprise appearance of the Roman army left Mutasim wide-eyed and in shock. He did not expect such an attack deep in the Caliphate’s territory. But seeing as he did a potential disaster, Mutasim ordered his army into a hollow square. It was an impressive sight for the Romans who witnessed the Saracen maneuver into a dense and thick hollow square. The Muslims have, since their invasion of Roman territory, adapted a few Roman tactics and ways of warfare. But such imitation was of partial success. The Romans were vastly superior in discipline and organisation than the Saracens and remained beyond the simplicity of Arab imitation for all their ingenuity.

Again, the Ghulams were in the frontline of Mutasim’s square. Inside the square were the captives, the baggage train and Mutasim himself. The problem for Mutasim was a matter of numbers. The Saracens were left with 22,000 or so warriors after garrisoning Germanicea under the Amir and the casualties of the assault. The Romans had at least 40,000 men with a dangerous body of heavily armoured cavalryman called the Kataphraktoi. Not only was this a problem, but so was half the Roman army. The cavalrymen who made up half the Roman army were the superbly disciplined and trained Thematic Kaballeroi, well versed in missile and shock action tactics in their glorious and pristine armoured self.

However, Mutasim defiantly drew his sword.

“Not while I live will I let a Roman dog win a victory from me.

Allahu Akhbar, Allah is Mighty”

The Saracen army was made up of warriors; they were expected to fight in any situation. To refrain from doing so would be a shame. To win is to revel in its rewards. To die is to gain a greater treasure in the afterlife.

Excitement amongst Germanicea’ captive populace woke Leo from his blissfully ignorant slumber. The visceral momentum of their excitement hardly failed to leave Leo alone. Even his uncle joined in with the crowd to wake Leo. Perhaps his prayers have been answered after all. Perhaps there is a little miracle in this hell. But for now, that prayer is waiting to be fulfilled. Disorientated and disheveled, Leo climbed upon his uncle’s shoulders to look upon this unexpected event of salvation. While not understanding the full significance of it, it absorbed him. Men covered in metal on horses with things protruding through their arms. He’s seen it before and what it does, hurtful things. Will they do it him? Why me?

But destiny has determined that Leo should not die or be sold as a slave. As Justinian’s officers executed their opening moves of the battle, Leo’s path was laid for the future.

The Wizard

01-16-2004, 19:15

Well if there is only one person here who can have unfinished stories, then we can consider ourselves to have a problem, Lady Frogbeastegg http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-wacko.gif

Anyways, i like it. Go on, tell us what happens next This will most probably turn out to be very interesting

kataphraktoi

01-16-2004, 19:24

I'm gonna take a short..a very short .. don't kill me...pause from writing to figure out some plots, developments, etc, etc. And to see how I can present the battle of the passes better in part B.

Plus some long terms plans to fulfill the synopsis of epic conflicts between Byzantium and the Caliphate.

WHo wants pictures?

Although u have to tolerate my lead squiggles.

But at least there will be no stickmen. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-2thumbsup.gif

kataphraktoi

01-19-2004, 03:54

Chap 10: BATTLE OF THE PASSES (PART B)

Justinian sat in his saddle with ease and comfort. His confidence was as high as the sky itself. Over and over again, he thought to himself what a brilliant plan it was and how only he himself, a gifted military strategist, could think of it. His plan was to split his army into two halves with one following the Saracen army while he swung around to overtake them was executed with precision befitting the discipline and professionalism of the Roman army. Although the fact that Justinian had the help of his senior officers was not considered. He was arrogant, confident and invincible as a young man of 17 could be with the world, or at least the remaining vestiges of the Roman Empire, at his feet.
And yet, for all his naïve and eager spirit, there was a part of him that was level-headed with an incredible intuition for foresight. He understood that all good plans are “good” because they were translated into victory. With the prospect of a victory in the air, he was determined to fulfill it.

With a cadre of officers surrounding him, Justinian gave orders just as calmly as delivering a speech. To his officer commanding the foederati light horse archers recruited from the steppes, he ordered him to harass the static formation of the Saracens and cause as much damage and distraction as possible at the given order. As an experienced officer dealing with horse archers, Damianus of the so-called “Foederati Scythikon” had developed a pattern of skirmish involving the following routine of charging at the enemy, shooting, retreating, feign a charge, retreating, charge back then fire. To prevent the enemy from discovering such a pattern, the pattern is executed from a different position in the routine by several multiple regiments of horse archers that are required so as to cause chaos in the enemy ranks and prevent their generalship from organizing an effective response.

To the officer of the second Roman army cutting off the Saracen army’s retreat, Leontius, he sent a messenger to give the order to split themselves into three segments with one in the center, one of the left flank and the other on the right flank. Each segment was lined with Thematic Kabellaroi behind a strong wall of heavy infantry skutatoi backed up by medium infantrymen and skirmishing Psiloi archers.

On his side of the Roman cordon, he ordered his trusted commanders Michael Lachonadrakon and Vardanes Artabanus to split the provincial militia into two dense formations. Each was to be backed up missile troopers of varying range. Foot archers recruited from the Bulgars were lined up behind them. On the flanks were javelineers and slingers from the lower dregs of the peasantry. To be sure that cohesion was enforced; elite companies of the Emperor’s own regimental guards were present. They were identifiable by their impressive blue plumes on their helmets and their large decorated shields with gold bosses. Not to mention they were also infinitely better armoured than the average militia soldier with their long mail lorica shirts underneath a solid but flexible cuirass of lamellar construction. Their favoured weapon, however, were not swords or axes, but a malevolent looking weapon wielded on the right hand of each warrior known as the “Rhompaia”. Said to be off barbarian origin, it was a falx-like blade with the ability to cleave even armoured limbs. If any Roman soldier thought of cowardice, their fear was consumed by the ever present and watchful gaze of these regimental guards.

As for his own elite regiment of Kataphraktoi, he placed them in the center in wedge formation between the militia formations. Justinian would lead them in the frontline of the wedge. To fail to miss Justinian in plain sight was impossible. Both enemy and friend could see who the Emperor was. Armoured cap – e – pie from head to toe in gilded armour on an equally gilded armoured horse, Justinian stood out like a beacon. His Kataphraktoi were similarly equipped but with less extravagance. Continuing the tradition of missile-shock composite lancers, they were armed with bow, lance and sword and trained to be masters of all three weapons. All were covered by lamellar and mail. The only sign of humanity in their armoured prowess were their eyes. Even then, these same eyes were devoid of humanity, only a cold glare of steely determination and the hardened experience of war.

Raising his arm with an impressive jeweled sword in his grasp, Justinian ordered Damianus to open the onslaught with his horse archers. For an hour or so, the foederati decimated the ranks of the Saracens with their complex and devastating routine of missile barrages. On the other hand, the Saracen army was equipped with plenty of archers who fired back causing a few casualties in the midst of the steppe warriors. Unfortunately, they ran out of arrows so quickly that they resorted to hiding under their shields to wait for their enemy to exhaust themselves. Alas to no avail did this happen for the Emperor had taken with him large amounts of replenishable arrows for his missile troopers. Unrelenting, the exchange of missiles soon became one-sided. The confusing cloud of piercing death that covered the sky like flies soon changed into a deadly plague.

The Ghulams that formed a wall of hardened warriors could not resist the merciless hail. One by one they fell. First as individuals, then in groups, the Ghulams peeled off the Saracen formation like a peeled fruit. Soon, the ranks further in the interior were starting to feel the bite of the foederati’s murderous trade. As the Saracens were tempted by the urge to break and run for their lives, the barrage stopped. A sigh of relief was breathed throughout their lines. Unfortunately, it was only a temporary respite. Both Roman armies were now moving towards the cornered and wounded Saracen animal.

As the old saying goes: “Beware the wounded animal”

kataphraktoi

01-19-2004, 03:56

Chap: 10 (PART C)

Mutasim survived the opening of the battle unnerved. Cursing himself, he regretted leaving behind substantial cavalry forces behind in Germanicea with only his small bodyguard mounted. His attention was attracted from almost every direction. The unpredictability, the confusion, the dangers that surrounded his stranded army were too much to handle. As eager as he wanted to fight, he could not simply order his army to charge at the enemy, it would be suicidal. On the other hand, waiting for the enemy to come would be delaying the obvious slaughter that would result.

Suddenly, his eye was drawn to the figure of Justinian leading a wedge of elite Kataphraktoi. Excellent. If the head of the army was captured or kill, the army would melt away. The problem was to draw the Roman Emperor into a compromising position so as to exploit the situation and turn defeat to victory, hopelessness to elation. Grabbing a captive priest near the hooves of his charger, he seized the priest’s crucifix attached to a wooden pole and lifted it up in the air for all to see.

The two armies stopped. All eyes stared at Mutasim’s curious display.

Mutasim broke the cross from its wooden hold and threw it to the ground. Staring at Justinian and pointing to him with his sword he spat on the cross then reined his horse in to trample over the sacred sign. Summoning a Saracen warrior nearby, he ordered the incumbent to defile the symbol by the most insulting of desecrations: that of defecation.

With indifference, or well-disguised outraged. Justinian simply raised his lance and pointed to the enemy. No words were needed to be said. Vengeance was a powerful motivation by itself. However, it was with difficulty that the elite regimental guards and officers kept their subordinate men from rushing headlong into the enemy and even more so for the cavalry officers attempting to restrain impetuous and glory-seeking cavalrymen from charging foolishly into ranks of shaken but desperate warriors.

Nonetheless, the plan failed. The Emperor of the Romans did not seek to right wrongs of his sacrilegious act of disdain by a charge to avenge his religious sensibilities. His assessment of a young, possibly foolhardy and naïve rival general was already proving to be a serious disadvantage. From all sides were highly motivated enemy soldiers keen to bay for his blood and his head. It need not be imagined what they would do with his corpse. For what he did to the cross, he expected no less from his potential captors and possibly executors. Then again, he had nothing to lose.

Within range of the Saracen line, the Skutatoi of the Roman army under Leontius hurled their heavy menaulion javelins into their ranks. The impact of the first hail pushed the Saracens back, as did the second, third, fourth and fifth waves. Behind the Skutatoi were the Psiloi and Thematic Kabellaroi foot and horse archers. They now fired their own volleys against the confused Saracens. Once again, the sky was littered and pierced by the winged fury of their arrows. Collapse was imminent. Lightly armoured with light shields, there was no effective protection for them against the armour piercing weapons used against them. Under better circumstances, their Ghulam officers would have protected them in their armoured state. But they were butchered by the early missile exchanges. Only a few remained exercising a minimal role in the protection of their underlings. Soon the lines were engaged with a fearsome charge by the Roman heavy infantry crying out “The Cross hath conquered” as they rushed into the pummeled masses of Saracens. Imminent collapse became a massacre.

On the other side, the provincial militia advanced towards a certain distance before the Saracens and then halted. With precise execution, the militia placed themselves in a position with sabers presented and shields interlocked in an irresistible and formidable phalanx wall. Without warning, the militia then retreated as if driven off as did Justinian’s elite regiment. The Saracens were surprised and intrigued by this state of affair. Did reinforcements arrive to aid them against the Romans? No. It was a feigned retreat in a deliberate fashion. Before Mutasim could order them to hold their hollow square formation (or what was left), the line facing Justinian’s half of the army broke into a stream of excited warriors chasing after their “fleeing” enemy.

Chasing blindly and furiously, the Saracens failed to see the cunning stratagem. In their disorder, their flanks were exposed after losing cohesion. Stretched out in a long line that narrowed towards the few leading Saracens chasing the Romans, they were vulnerable when the Foederati Skythikon under Damianus charged into their ranks. The timely charge was furious in its execution. Composed as it was from mainly Ferghanese and Khazari Turks, their ferocity in battle was something to behold and fear and hence, their employment. The remaining bulk of the Saracen attack now rallied back to where they were before. The Foederati did not follow for long after breaking the enemy lines. Instead, they retreated and waited on the sidelines for the next opportunity.

Spurring his horse around and his elite cavalrymen Justinian now gave the order for his regiment to deliver a decisive charge against the by-now confused Saracen army which could not hold itself together on all sides. With the rallying provincial militia behind them for the actual attack, the Kataphraktoi under Justinian carved into the shattered hollow square like an inexorable flood unstopped and unopposed. Saracens were thrown left, right and center with many more succumbing to the onslaught of his cavalrymen. Survivors were dispatched by the militias pouring into breach opened by Justinian and all sides were engaged against the resisting Saracens.

A few minutes later, the Saracen army was annihilated.

No mercy was granted. Supplicating Saracens were butchered as they kneeled for mercy. Only a small body remained with Mutasim to protect him. These were his own bodyguards who could be trusted to die for him and die was what they did. One by one, they were killed despite their superhuman courage to fend off the foregone conclusion. Mutasim fought shoulder to shoulder next to his loyal men until he was wounded in the leg and arm which caused him to drop his weapon. He leaned against his mount to catch a breath and drew his mace with his left hand to die fighting. His mount was then shot under him and was deposited on the ground. He fell awkwardly in such a way as to incapacitate him on the ground and leave him in a vulnerable position. Slowly, he closed his eyes waiting for a swift death. Everything went black very quickly. He expected a martyr’s death, nothing less.

The wounded animal was dispatched like game from a hunt.

Chap 11: A BETTER PLACE
Germanicea’s survivors.

The small plain was drenched in the blood of Saracen soldiers, broken spears, broken swords and broken shields littered the place where their multitudes fell in great number. War, however, was like a business. Non-combatants commissioned by the army went through the corpses stripping for themselves any riches or wealth belonging to them and kept it as a small reward for their labours. But their true commission was to strip arms and armour of the dead warriors. Naturally, they completed their task with enthusiasm.

Few Saracens survived the massacre in the small plain ringed by passes. 1405 were said to be held prisoner. The rest: all dead. Those who succeeded to flee were chased down efficiently by a few bands of Thematic Kabelleroi and Foederati Skythikon and dispatched with ease. In a strange reversal of fortune, the tethers that were used on Germanicea’s captives were now placed on those who captured Germanicea. Exultant in their praises of their young Emperor, the remaining populace of Germanicea crowded around Justinian to touch God’s representative on earth as their ruler and saviour. With difficulty was he separated by the walls of his Kataphraktoi. Justinian then waved his right hand in a grand gesture and silenced the crowd. He then proclaimed:

“ ROMANS YOU ARE LIBERATED”

A cheer went up, their joy unrestrained.

“You have suffered. You have lost loved ones. I lament with you. These times are evil ones but they are necessary. Our sins are many and may God through the intercession of the Mother of God grant us mercy and forgiveness. Rejoice Your Emperor has given you a new home where rich fields of wheat are waiting to be harvested, where food is abundant and the weather tolerable and where you, my subjects, will live far away from these dangers. And though you are Monophysites whom the Orthodox and Most Holy Church of the Chalcedonian creed consider heretics, you will be safe under my protection. For those of you who choose to convert, I would be gladly be your sponsor”

With the exception of one Monophysite priest whose crucifix was seized. The Germaniceans agreed amongst themselves that conversion was beneficial and a sign of gratefulness to their sovereign.

“Your new homes will be Thrace”

kataphraktoi

01-19-2004, 09:04

If the story sucks, tell me.

I don't want to waste my time writing it and occuping valuable org space.

Katzophrenic

The Wizard

01-19-2004, 15:47

Not enough replies, hmmm? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif

It's quite a good story, imo. Go on, tell more I want to see how little Leo becomes Emperor http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

frogbeastegg

01-19-2004, 16:35

Quote[/b] (kataphraktoi @ Jan. 19 2004,08:04)]If the story sucks, tell me.

I don't want to waste my time writing it and occuping valuable org space.

Katzophrenic
Well I think we can spare the space for a bit longer, even though rents are going up http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif

EDIT: I forgot to say that your paranoia is familiar - I used to do the same thing...well still do a bit. I found I enjoyed writing a lot more when I focused on what I wanted to see and what I thought of my work instead of waiting nervously for comments and assuming people hated my stuff if they didn't post within half an hour. You are more patient than I was http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/smile.gif

As long as you are enjoying writing then you are not wasting your time, even if you go back and rip your work up then you have learned a little more about what works and what doesn't.

Monk

01-19-2004, 16:40

Quote[/b] (kataphraktoi @ Jan. 19 2004,03:04)]If the story sucks, tell me.

I don't want to waste my time writing it and occuping valuable org space.

Katzophrenic
of course you can't just stop posting now, if you did that you'd have an angry mob at your door begging you for another ch. Trust me i have been there http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/cheers.gif . Btw, no it doesn't suck.

So you can stop http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ht_hide.gif , we wont http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tomato.gif

http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-2thumbsup.gif

Ludens

01-19-2004, 17:34

It does not suck, you just have to give it more time than 6 hours. It is a monday, so most people will get online after the afternoon or in the evening. And since you live in Australia, you've got a huge time difference with a lot of the Org patrons.

It is good, it isn't too long winded, but I hope the plot will speed up from this point.

Else I'll have to wait longer before I know how it is going to end http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif. I hope you'll find time to post more soon.

EDIT: Pictures? Why would you add pictures? So far words have done the work perfectly.

kataphraktoi

01-20-2004, 06:22

Pheww, good to know I'm not the only one with paranoia.

I want to see Leo become Emperor soon too. I hate writng about little Leo. I want the Leo who hacks people to death.

Anyhoo, I have think of some convenient way to fast forward the story while establishing a fluid link.

The old farts Mutasim, Sergius and Justinian have alreayd been introduced so I think I can move along quickly. But I can't leave out Leo's teenage years, he gets his first kill.......

kataphraktoi

01-20-2004, 06:24

Chap 12: A GRAND VISITOR
Monastery of the True Cross

The monastery of the True Cross was a hive of activity. Monks were running backwards and forwards throughout the complex in preparation for an important guest. But the guest was not an important local, or a magnate, or a lord, or a Strategos or an official. It was the Roman Emperor. For such a visit, an impression must be made upon the visitor. What can be more impressive than the procession and display of the monastery’s greatest treasure and relic, the very relic which gave its name to the monastery in the first place: The True Cross. However, it is not just the Cross, but rather, a piece of it. A few decades ago, the Emperor Heraclius divided the True Cross to prevent the Saracens from desecrating the greatest relic of Christendom. The monastery itself was a recipient of this treasure. Even though the spiritual aspect of the Emperor’s visit was fulfilled, there is much to be said of the secular aspect. As much as the Roman Emperor was the religious head of the Empire, he was also a political leader and sovereign of a state. It was this very aspect that sent the monastery in an upsurge of unorthodox commotion where they were once quiet contemplation.

At the head of the efforts to greet the Emperor, Sergius was placed in charge. It was a curious choice amongst the elderly Monks of the complex.

“He is young, much to learn, must know his place and accede to elderly authority.”

For others:

“He was in the military, they teach them things about order and organisation right? Or was it discipline? No wait, organisation. That’s what we want?”

Unfazed by the background chatter and the secret exchanges amongst the Monks, Sergius did as he was bidden and left a trail of orders, instructions and commands to his lower subordinates.

“This feels a bit familiar” he thought to himself a few times.

“Perhaps I miss ordering soldiers around” a smile wrapped around his face

“Or perhaps I’ve served in the Imperial Palaces myself” nodding his head in agreement

“That must be it” acquiescing to this conclusion.

“Brother Sergius, where does this silk curtain go?”

“Where a curtain goes”

“Where?”

“You may have memorized the Chalcedonian creed and all the writings of the early Church fathers Basil, but you are still as intelligent as a rock. It’s as if you were born in this monastery.”

“I was.”

“Fine. I’ll do it. Go in the corner and roll out the damask carpets”

“What’s a carpet?”

“Maybe I should have stayed in the army after all” thought Sergius as he grumbled his way through his duties.

CHAP: 13 THE FEAST OF THE SOLDIERS OF CHRIST

As the evening sun descended into the jagged mountain landscape, the monks of the True Cross monastery lined up along the impressive heights overlooking the pathway to the flat plan of the complex. Each monk was given a candle to hold, thus, creating a brilliant contrast to the encroaching darkness with the fading light of day. Justinian and his considerable entourage slowly trudged their way to the monastery’s great height.

Beautiful, thought Justinian. He was impressed by the mountain peaks that rose majestically into the sky, almost defiant of their grounded state on the earth. The farther most point of the mountains was capped with snow, forming a smooth and surreal contrast to the rough and uncouth formations of the mountains.

“God makes his place amongst men” he uttered to his officer.

The Roman Emperor decided to walk on foot as an act of humbleness in light of the monastery’s considerable prestige and reputation for its relic. Likewise, did his officers and soldiers. Even his diadem was removed in solemnity to the live-giving cross which bore the King of Kings that Justinian owed his allegiance to. As much as Justinian was impressed by the monastery’s reception of his very person, the monks were impressed by the young sovereign. They had heard only rumours, hearsay and loose snippets of the young Emperor. But when they saw him, they swore that half was not told about him.
To them, the Emperor was a fine example of Roman nobility. Despite being of Armenian descent, Justinian was blond. He was also a tall and impressive figure who captured the attention of the monks.

“Such a young man” they murmured amongst themselves

“Did he win those victories we heard about a few weeks ago?”

“A new David”

“We shall see for ourselves tonight” interjected a serious looking elder.

All 2000 soldiers and officers were seated in a hastily erected hall. In the center was the sacred and highly revered relic of the True Cross. A hush fell upon the warriors as they filed past the relic to take their places at the tables, every single hardened and cold-hearted soldier was moved by its presence. This piece of wood represented their faith and source of strength against the dangerous and energetic Saracens on their borders. It was also the object on whom a ruler greater than their own Emperor was crucified for the world. But, pragmatic men as they were, they were soon absorbed in their engrossing meals. Religious piety is one thing. A hungry stomach to enable that piety is another.

The Roman Emperor was seated on an elevated throne erected on the table where all tables were directed towards. From here the hall was a place of overarching perspective where all could be seen while all could see the incumbent on the throne. Easing himself into the comfortable space provided he took a draught of wine in a jewel encrusted cup and lifted it above his head.

Everyone was standing, monk and soldier alike.

“We give thanksgiving to the one who provides. Amen”

“Amen” came the response from everyone in the hall.

The feast of the soldiers of Christ commenced. Monk and soldier mingled freely with free-flowing conversations helped by a common cause in the consumption of wine and meat. Justinian, strangely, remained aloof from the festivities. He was deep in thought.

CHAP 14: EMPEROR AND THE MONK
A good soldier is hard to find

Justinian exempted himself with the minimum of ceremony from the hall. With only a cup of wine in his hand he filed down the balcony overlooking the star-ridden sky. Admiring the peace and solitude offered, he drank it in for what is was worth. Not even Constantinople at its most peaceful state could offer such quietness and luxury for contemplation. A shuffle of feet suddenly caught his attention. He realised he was not alone. He quickly placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Was it an assassin sent to kill him?

Alas, he could not be more mistaken.

“Don’t be alarmed Majesty. I am a monk of this monastery. Like you, I seek the same peace and solitude you seek”

Justinian relaxed his grip and placed his cup on his lips and drank casually.

“What is your name monk?”

“Sergius”

“From?”

“Constantinople”

“Ah, a native of the capital”

“Yes Majesty. I used to be guardsman of the Imperial palace and a cavalry officer.”

“How long?”

“Five years. Under your late father Constantine”

“I cannot recall a Sergius”

“That is because I was formerly known as Mercurius Apsimarus. Much like your Kataphraktoi bodyguards, I was part of the elite cavalry forces”

“Mercurius? The same Mercurius Apsimarus of the Kaballarika Prima?”

“The same, Emperor”

“The tales they told about Mercurius. Tall ones, short ones, big ones, small ones. Even the most pious of Christians prefer a tale of your exploits over a sermon any day in the Church of the Holy Wisdom”

“They are tales Majesty. Nothing more but tales”

“But every tale has its truth no matter how small that core is”

“Then it is the size of the smallest sand”

“But not the ones about your deeds against the Bulgars, the Sclavinians and the Lombards. They are now written down for posterity. You will be immortal my friend even if you rot away underground” laughed Justinian, allowing himself a little brief respite from the serious issues in his life.

“Those days are over Majesty, I am now a man of vows dedicated to something less exciting than wars, battles and other things that make tales the entertainment they are”

“Good men are hard to find nowadays, Mercurius. In times like these, we need everyone we can. The Saracens have numerous men than we; even their field armies outnumber our entire military force from Italy to Armenia alone. Add to that, their treasury is like a lake supplied by the four rivers of taxation, trade, raids and tribute.”

“Mercurius is no more. I cannot help you. Only God can. Excuse me Majesty I have some duties to attend to. Enjoy your stay as befits such noble company”

With further shuffling of feet, Sergius-Mercurius melted into the dark shadows of the monastery. Justinian was alone, alone to ponder the dark clouds of late gathering in his mind.

CHAP 15: UNEXPECTED CHANCES
Camp below the monastery

The encampment below the monastery was a noisy gathering. With the prisoners guarded by a few handpicked elite regimental guards, the free men, women and children of Germanicea wandered freely and conversed about their new situation. Leo was not amongst them. Curiosity possessed him. Slowly, he crawled towards the Saracen prisoners and observed them. Much like kinsmen, they had a dark complexion complemented with dark eyes and dark hair. But the language they spoke was different. What caught his eye was a lone figure separated from the rest. Next to him were 4 guards surrounding him with stern and watchful eyes. The figure slowly roused himself and moaned as he struggled to gain composure. Leo had seen him before: the conqueror of Germanicea.

Mutasim eyes slowly opened. All was dark. Slowly but surely, they grew accustomed to the dark and the cold air in the night. The last thing he remembered was falling off his horse with gashes and wounds in his arms and legs. He was starting to feel them flare up again. He winced.

“Where am I?”

A regimental guard stared down at his prisoner and answered in typical Spartan fashion:

“Prisoner of the Emperor”

“Didn’t I die” asked Mutasim as he lifted one eye to his overseer
“Too important”

“Important?”

“Important general of Saracen armies”

Mutasim then lay on his back reflecting at the irony of it. The conqueror has been brought low as a prisoner. “What to do now?” he thought to himself. “Nothing much”
He closed his eyes. No martyrdom. No paradise. Allah has destined men in his own way. He must accept that.

kataphraktoi

01-20-2004, 06:25

At this point we hurry it up a bit.

kataphraktoi

01-20-2004, 14:14

CHAP 16: THE WONDER YEARS (PART A) OVERVIEW
Thrace, Syria and the frontier wars circa AD 680-690 roughly.

9 years later….or more

On a lazy Thracian afternoon with a gentle breeze blowing through, Leo nestled against a tree and slept uninterrupted. Its 9 years since he’s been here with his uncle’s family as they settled near the fortress of Didymotichum. The family had taken up the trade of shepherds and it was this same occupation that Leo took. Partially, that is. For a boy of 12, there were much exciting things to do than take care of sheep, there was the great world to explore and experience. Leo took after his cousins Priscus and Meros who were serving in the army and emulated them whenever he could with mock swords and a small bow for boy his age. Sneaking out whenever there was work to be done, Leo would practise with his mock weapons. The people of his village marveled at his physique and trim size and often his uncle would intervene and explain to them that it was borne from a habit of running away from work that needed to be done. Leo, naturally, expected a scolding. But his uncle, an understanding man, realised the impetuousness of youth and leniently let him off to the chagrin of all the other village boys.
Priscus and Meros would come back for the winter, summer and autumn seasons but never the spring, that was campaigning season. They would come back with their armour and weapons which Leo never ceased to pore over these objects he deemed as sacred as any icon in a church. All it seemed was well. Prosperity and peace reigned in Thrace and the worries of the world was far away from the unsuspecting village.

Life, unfortunately, catches up. All good things must come to an end. The times of troubles began.

The Roman Emperor Justinian II was overthrown by a group of rebellious land magnates in Asia Minor with the support of two Strategos of the Opsikion and the Thracesion. Angered by Justinian’s father - the great Constantine IV who defeated the Saracen attempt to capture Constantinople – who had enacted harsh measures against the depredations of the magnates with suppression by imprisonment and execution they sought to gain their revenge against his son. For years, Justinian had worried over the helpless of his power to rein in these magnates who quickly established themselves with ease in recent years after his father’s unexpected death. With a small army, Justinian brought the rebels to battle and was defeated disastrously by the larger rebel army. The Emperor had his nose slit off by the rebels and was exiled to some far-flung province called the Klimata (Cherson in Crimea). As for the loyalist supporters throughout the empire, there was a bloody purge. Every village, town and city was search thoroughly by the order of Artemianus, the new Emperor of the Roman state. In Leo’s village, a priest was executed in plain sight of everyone. There was no replacement.

Meanwhile, a few survivors did escape from their clutches and raised the flag of rebellion against the usurpers. At the head of this rebellion was a charismatic figure whose name was easily known to all who have heard of his tales and legends. Mercurius Apsimarus.
Mercurius rallied the remnants of former Emperor’s elite guards and recruited enthusiastic volunteers who were raised on the tales of Mercurius and his wars against the enemies of the Roman Empire. With an army of 12,000, Mercurius marched against the Artemian army who were numbered at 30,000 near the city of Calliopolis with its strategic broken terrain. Drawing the commander of the main body of the enemy into a narrow pass, Mercurius quickly sealed both ends of the passes and trapped them indefinitely. With the rest of his army, he confronted and routed the remaining Artemian army attempting to free the main body. For 2 days and nights, the loyalist army reduced the trapped army with boulders, arrows and other contrived forms of devastation. By the start of the 3rd day, the commander surrendered along with his remaining men numbering at the paltry figure of 8000.

Priscus and Meros numbered amongst Mercurius’ victorious army and sent home immense plunder that day. One reward of the plunder, however, was significant. Leo was given a lamellar cuirass and a sword along with a fine composite bow of the hunnic kind. Even he was too small for it, was something he would hold into when he grew old enough to use it. Leo’s dream was to fight alongside his cousins in the army of the famed Mercurius. That was not to be.

After routing the Artemian army, Mercurius marched with due haste to the western frontier of Thrace. The pagan Bulgars of the old Moesian provinces had swept into Thrace threatening Mercurius position in the rear. Sponsored by Roman gold, the Bulgars were recipients of Artemianus’ bribe to occupy the loyalist general. In the fierce battles along the frontier, both sides were mutally exhausted. The Bulgars soon retreated north after a devastating ambush against their camp near the Maritsa River in a daring night attack by Mercurius.

The damage was done. His army was decimated. When Artemianus sent a large army into Thrace consisting of regular Thematic soldiers and mercenaries from the steppes, Mercurius had no chance but to fight a desperate battle against overwhelming numbers. Near Mesembria on the Black Sea coast, Mercurius’ army was annihilated. Mercurius was reported to be dead but no body was found. The surviving soldiers were rounded up and executed. A head was presented to the villages, towns and cities of the empire warning about the consequences of rebellion. Priscus and Meros were among those captured and executed. Through torture and mutilation, they revealed their home as Leo’s village. 3 days later, a messenger rode into the village center, implanted a stake and placed the heads of Leo’s cousins and left with haste. There were more heads to display elsewhere.

From then on, the idyllic world of Leo was shattered. His uncle forbade him to join the army and practise with his weapons. They were confiscated and hidden. The time for play was over, life was serious and there was work to be done. Leo tended the sheep throughout his youth. Despite, the dangers of Bulgar raiders indulging in mild saber rattling along the Thracian frontier, they were largely bought off by a tribute to leave the region alone. Soon, the sheep herd grew in numbers until Leo and his family could live comfortably as a minor lord of some kind. Things were looking brighter for the future. But not yet…..

CHAP 16: THE WONDER YEARS (PART B)
Discovery

Dressed in a familiar looking white tunic, Leo became a notable in the village and assisted in his uncle’s commercial activities. Since the loss of Priscus and Meros, his uncle had treated him like a son. Leo, without a father, accepted without hesitation. Both uncle and nephew had built a formidable business to the point where they now owned at least 1200 sheep. It was a rarity to hear anything about his mother or his father. No one ever bothered to tell him. Driven by an insatiable need to know, he demanded to be told the truth about his mother:

“Tell me about my parents”

“I told you before, they abandoned you. There is nothing more to say. Have we not gone over this before?”

“But each time, you reply with reluctance. There is something you are hiding from”

“There is nothing”

“Don’t lie to me”

“You don’t need to know”

“I do. I demand it. Its my right to know. By Simeon the Stylite, I demand you tell me”

“You don’t need to know”

“If you don’t…”

“Then what? Have we not suffered enough from threats against us these few years?”

“I am suffering more in silence than your good intentions, uncle”

“Very well…..where to start.then. But you must promise not to follow in the footsteps of your father”

“I don’t make ignorant promises”

“Fine”

“Your mother was a prostitute in Germanicea but….”

“A whore?”

“I told you…”

“Continue……..please”

“She eventually became the mistress of a certain soldier by the name of Arcadius, an assistant officer of the militia guard of the town. Both were outcasts, but they kept their tongue. Arcadius was a reputable soldier of good courage. I even had the chance to meet him once. Our family became outcasts too because of our association.

Not a nice background is it Leo?

Leo?”

“A soldier? Arcadius was a soldier?”

“Yes, yes but the important thing is that…”

“He was a soldier?”

“Yes, but….”

“A Roman soldier…..”

“LEO Listen to me; you have a different life now. Don’t look to the past; there is a future before you: a great one. Don’t throw it away by following in your father’s footsteps.”

“I am my own father’s son, uncle”

“But, but..”

“Excuse me, I must be alone”

“What about the sheep, I need someone to…”

“Ask Nicetas.”

kataphraktoi

01-20-2004, 14:22

CHAP 16: THE WONDER YEARS (PART C)
The refugee on the shores of Cherson

“Constans, are we near?”

“Yes, my lord, we are”

“Excellent. How long?”

“5 hours, it will be dark by then”

“Just what I had hoped for”

Mercurius seated himself in the small craft that was steered by a local fisherman of Mesembria. For a generous sum of 14 Gold nomismata, Constans agreed to take him to Cherson. The general of the loyalist forces closed his eyes and listened to the ocean’s waves gently pushing against the side of the vessel. Reflecting on his predicament, Mercurius conjured up his memories. So many, he thought to himself.

He remembered his days as a guardsman in the Imperial palace and his origins. He was a gift from a prominent merchant who was invited for a meal with the Emperor Constantine IV, the father of his lord whom he retains loyalty to. It is said that Mercurius was of Gothic extract. The merchant had come across him on his journeys in the lands north of the colony of Cherson called Gothia, where substantial numbers of Goths had stayed after their Ostrogothic and Visigothic cousins had migrated west. Mercurius was the son of minor Gothic chieftain who owed tribute to the Khazari Khanate in the northern shores of the Caspian Sea. To pay tribute, he sold his boy of 10 Eutharic to the merchant in return for a grand sum. The merchant was impressed and paid the great sum for a boy who was tall for his age and of fair and healthy complexion. He had intended to sell him to the Caliphs in Damascus on the look out for young boys to be raised up as bodyguards and elite troops when he was honoured by the rare invitation of the Roman Emperor. To impress him, the merchant gave the boy as a gift. Constantine was pleased with this fine acquisition and raised him up amongst the ranks of royalty and nobility.

Eutharic was subsequently baptized and re-named Mercurius after the warrior saint. His physical talents were noted early and he was placed in the elite corps where young officers were placed strategically for promotion. During the Saracen siege of Constantinople, Mercurius impressed the Emperor by his courage and tenacity in defending the walls and promoted him as the officer the elite cavalry regiment of the Kaballarika Prima, the Emperor’s personal field unit. In a campaign against the Slavs, Mercurius captured scouts belonging to the Sclavinian chieftain Moros who united several tribes against the Romans. With vital information, the Romans smashed the Sclavs and killed Moros breaking the Sclavinian confederation near the old city of Naissus. Against the Bulgars, however, all was not well. Constantine suffered from gout during the crossing of the Danube and left the supervision of the crossing to his officers when a Bulgar dressed as a Roman soldier spread rumours of the Emperor retreating south. Panic spread like wildfire at the news and the Roman was in chaos. The crossing was halted and the Roman army was in flight. The Bulgars watchful of their successful ruse burst out from their hiding places and routed the Romans. Constantine was close to being captured by the Bulgars when Mercurius ordered the men of Kaballarika Prima to execute a suicidal and hopeless charge against the Bulgars to buy time for the Emperor’s escape.

The Emperor was taken to Odessus and waited for news of the disaster. Half his army was dead, a quarter captured including members of the Kaballarika Prima. All were executed except for the cavalrymen of the Kaballarika Prima. Due to their courage, they were spared and ransomed. Mercurius was one of the survivors who was exchanged at the border and returned to Constantinople.

On the eastern frontier, Mercurius’ exploits were well traveled throughout the fortresses of Anatolia. They heard how Mercurius had sacked the Saracen fortress of Zapetra in his campaigns against Saracen raiders based in that region. Over the years, Samosata, Alexandretta, Amida and Theodosiopolis were repeatedly sacked while the annoyed Caliphate continually provided for their reconstruction and upkeep.

In the AD 684, Constantine expired on his deathbed and asked Mercurius to swear to serve his son loyally and to fight his enemies. Mercurius swore to do so. And broke it.

Unexpectedly, Mercurius retired at the young age of 22 and took his vows at a monastery. Once tonsured, he vanished from the daily news of Constantinople and the reports that circulated throughout the empire. The question people asked was why? No satisfactory answer could be found. Only he knew.

“General. We have arrived”

“Cherson?”

“Yes”

“14 gold nomismata it is. There is more if you are….”

“At your service, my lord, I will stay here”

“Thank You. Enjoy yourself while we are here”

“I will”

CHAP 16: THE WONDERS YEARS (PART C)
Son of a soldier

“Son of whore. Son of a soldier. Illegitimate. Bastard.

Who respects one?” repeated Leo over and over again.

“I respect one” answered an unexpected voice

“Uncle?”

“Yes, Leo”

“What happened to the sheep?”

“I asked Nicetas”
“I am sorry for keeping all this from you. But I believed it to be in your interests”

“You always have uncle”

“Your mother was a prostitute but a good mother. You never starved and you were always he jewel”

“And of my father?”

“He was an honourable man. I can remember the look in his eyes when he was near you. He would always inquire about you and drop a few nomismatas our way to upkeep you. But of course, your mother stopped being a prostitute when you were born. She worked as a weaver in our textile business. Anyhow, your father was a brave and courageous man who was the last soldier to die when the Saracens captured Germanicea. He refused to surrender and died a free man as he always told me: ‘better to die a free man than a slave of the Saracen’”

“I cannot deny your roots Leo. Here, I brought you this”

“The cuirass and sword Priscus and Meros gave to me, but how?”

“I had hidden it. I did not want you following them to their deaths. Inside of me, I knew that I could not stop you. You were born with the blood of warrior in your veins. Even when you did not know your parents, you were always training to be a soldier. Here is your chance. I will not stop you”

“I want to be a soldier, but not in the army of Artemianus”

“I know, I have contacts who tell me that Mercurius is alive”

“Alive”

“Yes he is, Mercurius is on a secret mission to rescue the Emperor Justinian in the Klimata at the moment”

“How do you know Mercurius?” waved Leo’s head in disbelief

“A long time ago in Anatolia, I met Mercurius who was then a monk by the name of Sergius. We talked a bit and he broached the subject of where we would be headed. I told him about Thrace and he pondered about my response for while then asked if there was a priest amongst us. I pointed to the Monophysite priest of our faith but informed him that we were new converts to Chalcedonianism. He left and returned the next day and told me he was to be the new priest of our village.”

“Mercurius was once our priest?”

“That is correct. For a few years only before he left his assistant Anastasius here with us. God bless his soul. Anastasius was a good priest.

You were too young to understand religion. Therefore, you did not know Mercurius”

“Where he go?”

“When Justinian was overthrown, the led the loyalist army”

If Mercurius does succeed, there may be a chance for you to become a Roman soldier. But who knows what will happen”

kataphraktoi

01-21-2004, 15:53

CHAP 16: THE WONDER YEARS (PART D)
The Amir of Aleppo

The year after the battle of the passes in Cilicia, Mutasim was ransomed by the Caliphate. He was taken to Germanicea where he discovered the Amir had died of old age. The soldiers there asked Mutasim to leave Germanicea and return home. He agreed. Germanicea was razed and destroyed.

The Caliph in Damascus asked for Mutasim’s presence in the capital of the great empire of Islam under the Ummayads. In his tattered robes and disheveled state, Mutasim rode to the grand palace of the Caliphs and prostrated himself before the successor of Muhammed, the great prophet of Islam.

“Mutasim, word reaches us of your most valiant conduct for Islam. We are pleased”

“My pleasure, shadow of Allah on earth”

“Please, please, get up. Sit with me and enjoy some refreshments”

“What is it that you have requested my presence before divine company?”

“My faithful general Mahmud is dead – may he find rest in paradise – and now who will take his place in the frontline against the Romans?”

“His sons?”

“His sons? No. They are incompetent and given over to pleasure to understand the importance of what we seek to achieve.

For years, we have planned to gain our revenge on the Romans for humiliating us at the gates of their capital, the one they call the city of Constantine”

“And what role am I to play in your design Majesty?”

“You will be Amir of Aleppo”

“Aleppo”

“You disagree?”

“No your Majesty. It is something unexpected”

“You will that the generousity of the Caliph is never misplaced. I have prepared a magnificent mausoleum for his body. As for his sons, they will be buried in a dog pit”

“Are you proposing to dispose of them?”

“Yes. See to it that it is done”

“May it be so”

The sons of Mahmud received invitations to a grand banquet in honour of their late father’s passing. At the insistence of Mutasim, they sat in a separate dining room from the rest. After enjoying an excellent meal, the houris were sent out to entertain them.

Mutasim sat calmly and waited for the dancers to finish then stood to raised his cup. The sons of Mahmud likewise did the same.

“To the future, to Aleppo, to the glory of Islam, the Caliphate and the death of the Romans”

“To the future” they saluted back and polished of the contents of their cups with nonchalant ease.

“To Mutasim, Amir of Aleppo”

Mahmud’s sons now lowered their cups and stared at Mutasim; former slave and servant of their late father. One of them, Abdullah spoke:

“What are talking about? Had too much wine old friend?”

“On the orders of Amir Mutasim, I order these men executed”

12 Ghulam Warriors slowly pushed away the thick scarlet curtains lining the dining hall and drew their Najikh axes from their belts. Mahmud’s sons coalesced around each other as the Ghulams drew closer. Abdullah drew his scimitar blade and charged at the closest Ghulam nearest to him and was treated to a taste of the inevitable. 5 Ghulams responded quickly and hacked Abdullah to pieces with their axes. Blood flew generously across the room and landed in the food, drink and feet of Mahmud’s sons. The rest of the seed of Mahmud stood frozen in fear and awaited death.

6 bodies lay on marble floors of the dining hall. They were removed quickly. Mutasim returned to his seat and finished his meal in silence.

“I’m sorry Mahmud, but the Caliphate is bigger than both of us. We do as we are told. All of us are slaves of Allah, not of men” was his final thought on the matter concerning his pledge to serve Mahmud’s sons.

He was the Amir of Aleppo.

CHAP 16: THE WONDER YEARS (PART E, yes its gonna finish soon)
Righting the wrongs

Mercurius covered himself with a black hood and slid away in the Chersonese dawn as the light was sinking below the horizon.

Alone by himself, he pulled out a slip of paper. On it was important information concerning his ultimate goal:

“At the Red Horse Tavern. We are there. Be discreet”

The former guardsman of the Imperial palace employed his cunning and slipped through the guards who garrisoned Cherson unawares of a true master at work. Dispensing with the token barrier blocking his way into the city, he walked slowly and silently, keeping to himself while unsuspecting strangers minded their own business. Mercurius stopped.

Red Horse Tavern.

The tavern was well lit with a few dark corners for those who wanted obscurity and to enjoy their meals alone. Mercurius scanned the room and looked intently until he found what he wanted, or more likely, who he wanted.

In the company of 10 men was a odd looking figure. He was bright, gregarious and talkative with his companions. In any situation he would have been a normal man at any place, at any time; except for one feature. He was missing a nose.
“May I join esteemed company friends?”

“Be off with you stranger, there is no place for you at this table”

“Not even for Sergius, monk of the True Cross, or perhaps a familiar name: Mercurius Apsimarus. I was told to meet you there by a handwritten letter”

The men looked at each other. They knew what that name meant.

“Mercurius Apsimarus”

The man with the missing nose spoke up:

“We have received reports that you were fighting in our name. You were successful, then defeated. The news around here is that you are dead, or what has arrived here in the last few days”

“I escaped from Mesembria. A few high ranking officers followed me into a mountain refuge near the Bulgar Khanate. We decided that the resistance did not need a good general. We needed a leader, an Emperor. I hired a fisherman to sail me here secretly. I am surprised Artemianus has not executed you yet”

“He is occupied with events in the Asian Themes. The Caliphate invaded Cilicia and Western Armenia a few weeks ago under a familiar name: Mutasim”

“For a place like this you are well informed”

“Money is a great talker when it comes to officials here”

“So I have heard Emperor”

“So you intend to rescue me O gallant and valiant warrior?”

“You don’t sound enthusiastic”

“On the contrary, I am more than enthusiastic. Now that you are here, you can help me. Take your fisherman with you, we leave on Friday morning. My allies have organised it”

“Allies?”

“Yes, we have a great ally on our side”

kataphraktoi

01-21-2004, 15:56

only one more wonder years chapter then I'm done with forst half of the 20 years of history, the second half is better.

- Leo leads a band of cavalrymen agaisnt Bulgar raiders and finds a nice surprise

- Justinian and Mercurius strike back at Artemianus with the help of a powerful ally

I'm finding it hard to write as it goes deeper and deeper, anyone having trouble following it?

ANy nerds what to potshot me with question?

kataphraktoi

01-22-2004, 04:40

Any chance of froggybeastegg filling in for one chapter?

Its only half a chapter.

kataphraktoi

01-22-2004, 04:52

LAST WONDER YEARS CHAP INSTALLMENT: NOW FOR THE SECOND HALF

CHAP 16: THE WONDER YEARS (PART F, we’re getting there)
The alternative rescue mission

The garrison of Cherson were taken by surprise on a Friday morning, a large Khazari army marched across the flat plains of the Klimata theme and stood before the modest settlement. A messenger was sent to deliver an ultimatum:

Strategos of Cherson,

Heed the words of Asprukan, Lord and Khagan of the mighty Khazars

We will spare no man, woman or child in your pathetic settlement when we break down your gates and your walls.

Will behead and mutilated every soldier who serves under you.

When you become our prisoner, your skin will stripped from your body and used as a rug.

But I am a generous man.

I will leave you your skin and your settlement of dogs.

Obey the following conditions and I will spare your settlement:

Pay us a tribute of 600 gold nomismata, 800 silver nomismata and 1000 copper nomismata

Give us hostages, we want men of notability

We want a man without a nose and of noble blood

Deliver to us 10 horses and 50 pigs

Deliver to us 10 silk robes

Fulfill this and you will become the friends of the Khazari people, if not, you will become the ground on which we wipe our horse’s --- (please insert)

The Strategos Constantine Gorys shifted nervously in his chair, wiping the assailing drops of sweat dripping from his drenched forehead. A weak man by any standards and a coward, Constantine was indecisive about his next course of action. He looked to his aides who likewise shifted nervously before the ultimatum of the Khagan’s message.

“Uh, well esteemed guest…um, may we consider your demands?”

“You may Roman pig”
“Uh, Thank You…uh”

“Omurtag, my name is Omurtag. Roman apple”

“Ah, yes, ah Omahag”

“Omurtag”

“Omurtag”

“Give us a till tomorrow”

“No, make a decision now”

“Uh, will you at least allow us time to fulfill your demands”

“Yes, we will give you time. One hour”

“One hour? Are you ma…Uh, yes, of course, as soon as possible. Omurag”

“Omurtag”

“Yes, ah Omurtag”

The messenger Omurtag left the frightened Constantine in his room but not without planting a blade in the middle of his table with a dead mouse pinned to the wooden surface.

As soon as the messenger left:

“GET IN HERE”

Constantine’s aides hurried to the Strategos’ office and awaited his dictates

“Fulfill their demands, and hurry We have only one hour”

“But sir, one hour is…”

“Enough. One hour is enough, now hurry”

“But..”

“NOW”

One hour in the Chersonese town center, the demands were all fulfilled to the satisfaction of Khazari officials presiding over the ransom. Except for one missing item; a Khazari official walked towards Constantine Gorys and asked him where was the man with a missing nose.

“We could not find one”

“You realise that this means…”

“Its only a man without a nose”

“A man of nobility to be correct”

“But, but we can’t give him to you”

“So you do have a man with a missing nose but you lied to us. That is an insult to my Khagan, which is no better than declaring ……”

“Wait Wait I can’t give him to you or my life is forfeit”

“If you don’t hand us the missing nose man, your life will be forfeit but not without some fun first” The official grinned with a malevolent sneer into Constantine’s fear-riddled eyes.

Constantine wiped his forehead, shook his head then turned around. Using both hands he clutched his hair and pulled against it. Finally, after much thinking, he decided on the short-term view:

“I have him; my men will look for him”

Justinian was accompanied by an escort of heavily armed men of the Cherson garrison. The Khazari official looked at one of their demands and agreed that he was the last item on the list.

“We are pleased Roman. We will leave now”

Justinian’s companions and Mercurius hid behind a couple of wooden shacks watching their lord being whisked away by a Khazari detachment inside the settlement. Soon it was done. The gates were closed. The Khazars slowly marched away from Cherson.

“At midnight we sail opposite Cherson’s shore”

“With your fisherman Mercurius?

Can we trust him?”

“He won’t kill the goose that lays the golden nomismatas”

Several smiles were passed between and they nodded in agreement to Mercurius’ plan

“The Emperor will meet us on the shore as well. Be alert”

At midnight, the dark forms of 6 men walked silently towards Cherson’s serene and quiet port. Constans, the fisherman was waiting. Mercurius and Justinian’s associates settled into the humble vessel and covered themselves with a dark cloak to protect them against the night chill.

The vessel sailed slowly out of the port. With the surrounding darkness prevalent, the men were worried about getting lost. However, they forgot that Constans was an experienced sailor as well as a fisherman and they landed on the shore opposite Cherson without much obstacle. They unboarded and stepped onto the shore. No-one was present.

A figure with a small detachment of men walked out from a large foliage of trees and bushes. In the dim moonlight, they recognised the noseless Emperor.

“All is well I gather?”

“Yes, Emperor” answered Mercurius

“Send your fisherman away; he is of no use for our journey ahead”

Constans overheard the conversation and leapt to his feet and prostrated before Justinian:

“Emperor, send me not away. I wish to serve your cause”

Slyly, Justinian remarked:

“Serve me, or the gold?”

“Constans knew what it meant and replied wisely:

“Both, men who serve have to eat too”

Justinian laughed and accepted his answer:

“For a peasant, you are cunning, which makes it interesting.

The pay will be meager and the journey dangerous. Why risk your life?”

“A fisherman’s life is boring. An adventure once a lifetime isn’t bad. Death should be interesting not dull”

“Agreed, hide your vessel and come with us.

To Khazaria”

frogbeastegg

01-26-2004, 23:06

Quote[/b] (kataphraktoi @ Jan. 22 2004,03:40)]Any chance of froggybeastegg filling in for one chapter?

Its only half a chapter.
Late to the party, for some reason it looked to me as if you hadn't posted here since Jan 20th. Anyway fill in how? I am probably being incredibly dense but I was up at 5am this morning Jokes fly over my head when I am half asleep, as do requests for help...and pretty much everything else for that matter

If the next 20 years of the tale are better then I shall be a frog with good reading material, between this and Monk's latest I am all set for long tales and the few shorter stories fill in the lunch time reading nicely. I read this while half asleep and it made sense, so either it is easy to follow or very abstract http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

kataphraktoi

01-30-2004, 02:49

I haven't put any chapters up lately simply because my internet account expired. I don't think I'll be on till..............late Feb or early March, me is thinking of getting broadband.

However, I have not been complacent.

Item: 7 chapters written already. I'm sick of the overview years, I want to get into the wars and Leo especially.

Item: 2 pictures to post up.

Item: I wanted Froggy beast egg to fill in a chapter for just one chapter, I'm afraid romance is something hard to write about. Thats why it needs Froggy's touch. Imagine a Khazari princess having to marry a deposed Emperor without a nose.

Cheerios

The Wizard

01-30-2004, 10:48

Well, that's not really romance is it? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif

Maybe you could send the Chapters to someone, so he could upload it? 'Cause I wants to know more of the Byzantine Empire two generations after Heraclius http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

~Wiz

frogbeastegg

01-30-2004, 13:20

Quote[/b] (kataphraktoi @ Jan. 30 2004,01:49)]I'm afraid romance is something hard to write about.
Understatement of the century Fight scenes are hard to write about, romance is nearly impossible to write about in my experience. The only reason I have it in my current story is because I can find no way to get rid of it It takes me hours to write each bit that could be called even slightly romantic, and that is with two characters narrating the scene to me. Anyway it appears that I messed up somewhere along the line because in the last 30ish hours my leading lady has been accused of being an insensitive bitch by one person and another wants to know what she is going to call Fulk after the sappy scene where they sort their feelings out, apparently she can't keep insulting him all the time. She can and will insult him for the rest of their time together just as will keep insulting her Overall Eleanor is not happy with her bard at the moment...she keeps calling me tadpole and all the benevolent humour has drained away leaving it as a real insult. Checking my email is beginning to put me in danger of getting lynched Ah well, it could be worse - I could be writing the characters based slightly off myself and then I'd be the one getting panned in emails, instead it is like seeing a friend get panned. But hey it is still feedback and therefore very useful.

http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-stunned.gif

:realises all this may not count as encouraging:
Er most of this is only problematic because of my characters; if they were more normal it wouldn't be so hard to write...at least you don't have to write a covert romance, which makes your job easier. If it is one of those marriages of convenience you can easily brush over most of it with little polite nothings and have them not talk much. What can they say if they barely know each other? Not a lot, that’s what. You only need soppy dialogue if they actually like each other, or more accurately if they get to court a bit. Careful scene selection allows you to avoid the bits that are harder to write, for example a wedding service is easy because someone kindly wrote that for you hundreds of years ago. What happens after the wedding gets harder, unless you like writing parties, but the party is less important than the ceremony so while including it is useful it can be missed out. Then last in the scale of importance and hardest to write is the actual wedding night but that one can be missed out very easily.

Good luck, hope you don't need it :remembers five hour migraine that was writing a single kiss, just one sentence long and with no detail...starts laughing because the final effect of the line is quite funny: Look at it like this – no matter how bad the bit you write turns out to be it can’t be worse than some of the rubbish that gets on TV Anyway you can keep reworking the scenes until you don’t mind the end result so much, been reworking one particular scene in mine for weeks now. If you have a month to wait before you can post much more than you have a month to work on it.

kataphraktoi

02-06-2004, 03:48

Well since I can't bothered printing out the chapters and typing them on a uni comp, I'll just throw caution to the wind and start writing randomly but relating to the story.

kataphraktoi

02-06-2004, 04:05

Silver blades glistened in a row of deadly hedges, faceless men with cold masks stand silent in lines of perfect discipline. They start to move slowly.

Armour clashed against armour, weapons tinkling beside their owners waists in anticipation of battle.

Haranguing them, pushing them and exhorting them is the tall and impressive golden figure of Justinian. Armoured like his elite Pharganoi crack troops and on a sturdy and strong steed he rides backwards and forwards across the lines shouting curses against the enemy while praising his own men.

The earth moved in perfect symphony with their heavy steps. The resounding thunder that echoed from their footsteps shattered even the sky itself as dark clouds gathered in tune with their marching.

The grass of the plains were flattened with immense force, 28,000 men following the lead of the Pharganoi in the center.

Bulgars, Khazars, Romans, Huns, Goths and Avars marched as one. Kept in disciplined order by the cavalry officers under Mercurius.

With a clenched fist, the army halted.

A war cry was raised.

On wings of prophetic utterance, the pagan obscenities of Justinian's army assaulted the very air above Artemianus' army led by a non-entity of a commander.

The clenched fist now raised a bow.

All horse arhcers knew what it meant. Slowly they shifted through the solid lines of men and drifted to the frontline of the army.

The clenched fist moved the bow in a downward manner to signify the battle. War has begun.

The piercing screams of the barbarian horse archers..............

I'll leave it there.

Bye.

PS. this coudl belong anywhere in the chaptrs.

kataphraktoi

02-13-2004, 02:46

As u all know, I have no internet account, just the uni computers to use. My laptop is stuffed, so I can't get my stuff for Leo. But I promise to bombard you endlessly with Chapters when I get online.

PAX ROMANA

For now tune into my new little tale called the wandering Jew

The Wizard

03-27-2004, 16:59

So, tell me, when is this interesting tale continuing?

kataphraktoi

04-08-2004, 06:02

Wow, long time, no write.

I bought a new computer, so I'm using that to surf the net at the moment, unfortunately, my stuffs on my laptop with the stories and all that crap..........

So I will just post up a few thinggies...

follow the links.

Kaballarika Prima (http://www.geocities.com/weirdguynextdoor/klib.jpg)

THis guy here is a mixture of Byzantine - Khazari - Central Asian influences.

Obviously a heavy cavalryman armed with standard Klibanophori equipment: lance, bow, sword or saber with quiver, etc, etc and the Avar thong on his lance.

Leo the super trooper (http://www.geocities.com/weirdguynextdoor/leontius.jpg)

The guy in the middle is Leo in premium equipment sans helmet, stupid stupid boy.

The guy on the far right is a Pharganoi bodyguard with the face mask and his nice tall Rhompaia for chopping off itchy limbs.

The token cavalryman in the background is a first class Byzantine cavalryman. With a lamellar cuirass and helmet, he's better off than the poorer thematic cavalrymen. He wears a segmented helmet of Central Asian influence. Ain't the Khagan nice??

Justinian's men (http://www.geocities.com/weirdguynextdoor/justinianian.jpg)

Guy in the middle is Mercurius. Wears a cuirass and mail lorica underneath with a chlamys cloak worhty of his rank.

The poor guy climbing down the rock is a normal infantryman with lance and sword.

The armoured guy on horseback is Justinian, our favourite guy with no nose. Wonder why he waers a mask???

The guy in front is one of them Gothograeci troopers, forgot their names...........

anyway, thats it from me. ciao ciao

Ludens

04-08-2004, 18:02

kataphraktoi, the links don't work for me. Yahoo says they are 'currently unavailable for viewing'. Is it something with my browser security settings or does everyone experience this?

Monk

04-08-2004, 20:05

Quote[/b] (Ludens @ April 08 2004,13:02)]Is it something with my browser security settings or does everyone experience this?
I have the same problems Ludens, i think its just the site.

kataphraktoi

04-09-2004, 02:44

try it as a save target as

GEOCITIES IS CRAP.

frogbeastegg

04-09-2004, 10:01

Quote[/b] (kataphraktoi @ April 09 2004,02:44)]try it as a save target as

GEOCITIES IS CRAP.
That works. Amazing pictures http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif Um, can I ask why the one of Justinian comes out upside down? :heads to paintshop to turn it the right way up:

kataphraktoi

04-09-2004, 13:01

I scanned it upside down but decided not to turn it the right way from apathy, the next two I decided that common sense should prevail.

Copperhead

04-10-2004, 00:05

Those pictures are very good.

I also enjoyed reading your story so far How long till you continue it you reckon??

kataphraktoi

04-10-2004, 01:34

When I get my laptop back, all my stuff is on there. I think something like 6 -7 Chapters...

sorry bout that.

Copperhead

04-10-2004, 17:20

Cool, looking forward to it

The Wizard

04-13-2004, 18:52

Very very nice Where did you get these from? Did you draw these yourself? If so, a load of kudos to you

As you can see, the differences between Sassanian and Byzantine forces was quite small, save for the fact that Sassanians relied far more on their cavalry than the Byzantines did, who also mixed in some infantry for good measure.

~Wiz

kataphraktoi

04-14-2004, 03:34

Yeah, straught from Kataphraktoi's hand.

I have to admit I took a few liberalities with the klibanophori, sources say that an epilorikon is over the lamellar klibanion, but in this case, I made the padding go underneath the klibanion (which is also mentioned in the sources).

The Wizard

04-14-2004, 20:52

Wow http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-stunned.gif

Really nice drawing skills there.. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-speechless.gif

~Wiz

kataphraktoi

05-24-2004, 03:49

Got my laptop back, not happy with the next few chapters but I'll post em up anyways...

CHAP 17: KHAZARIAN INTERVAL (PART A)
AD 701

Justinian, Mercurius, and their companions made their way to the Khazari encampment accompanied by a cavalry escort of Khazari light cavalry. The Khagan’s tent was distinguished by its richly gilded tent and a stunning array of red, blue and green montage that covered it. Only Justinian was invited into the Khagan’s presence.

Justinian was accompanied into the tent by two prominent Khazaris, they presented him to the Khagan who was seated on an elaborate ivory-carved throne of dragons, lions, and animals of the hunt. Justinian walked forward and bowed before the Khazar lord to which the Khagan got up from his throne and led him to a seat next to his throne.

“The journey was agreeable with you, Roman?”

“Yes, Khagan, it was”

“At first light we leave towards the heartlands of our empire, there we will discuss business and other important matters. But for now, it is time for you to rest. My servants will bring you food.”

“Thank You for your gracious hospitality, I am sure I can repay you one day”

“You will, Roman. When the time comes”

CHAP 17: KHAZARIAN INTERVAL (PART B)

The moon lit the silent camp of the Khazars. Most Khazaris were asleep; some were still awake conversing in small groups around a campfire. For Mercurius, it was another time for reflection.

Constantine’s death prompted a searching in Mercurius’ soul about death and mortality and how he had contributed to the world’s anxiety and woe by his occupation. His decision to retire to a monastery prompted even the religious authorities to intervene to prevent his intended course. Though refraining from approving of killing in the name of religion, they mentioned that all killing was forgivable in the act of a good deed, such as the defence of the Roman state. Even Mercurius admitted it was a silly perspective on death and the order of things in the world. But then, there was the prospect of an environment of peace and tranquility. All his life, wars and battles have filled his time. Peace was never an option. That opportunity was presented and he took it.

Running, running, running, running through the various halls of the Imperial palace, Mercurius Apsimarus of the Kaballarika Prima corps seized a horse from the Imperial stables and rode off into the proverbial sunset. For days, the forlorn Mercurius rode without food and water. Where to? He did not know. Anywhere away from wars and battles was good enough. At the end of the sixth month, Mercurius came across a high rising monastery perched atop a smaller mountain under the canopy of larger mountains.

The monastery of the True Cross.

The Thracian sun above the blue sky was a perfect place to practise one’s own faith. So, thought Mercurius as he accompanied Germanicea’s populace to village south of Didymotichum. He was not alone in his journey. His good friend Anastasius made the journey with him as an assistant deacon and possibly promotion to priesthood.
For several years, it was the perfect occupation. That is, until, the deposition of Justinian. It hadn’t dawned on him for years, perhaps out of forgetfulness or deliberate ignorance; he was stung by a conviction. A conviction he had kept secret for years. The vow he made to the late Emperor Constantine. The young sovereign was supposed to be under his protection, and it was to him, whom, service was to be rendered.

Mercurius remembered that moment when his self-imposed spiritual prison was crumbling down. Mercurius walked slowly to his church and underneath an altar and uncovered something familiar he had not worn for a while. The dusty uniform belonging only to a warrior who served in the elite Kaballarika Prima corps of Constantinople was uncovered and with an accompanying sword. Drawing the sword from its scabbard was a sensation that empowered him within.

A few worshippers happened to enter the church for a moment of prayer, to their surprise, a man looking like the priest Sergius brandishing a sword making fluid and strong thrust and cuts into the air. It was Sergius. Anastasius entered into the sanctuary and commented to the observers that the priest known as Sergius was actually the famous warrior Mercurius. Word spread and soon they it became common knowledge in the village. Here was a priest, a former priest, walking around in a Kataphraktos’ uniform with a sword by his side buying a horse, a shield, some armour and a helmet with gold nomismatas. Awe was a state that was epidemic.

Here was a hero of myths and legends walking before them, larger than life.

Here was Mercurius Apsimarus of the Kaballarika Corps, hero of the wars against the enemies of the Roman state.

Here was a loyalist against the usurper Artemianus, a candidate for the throne provided by the rebellious magnates of Asia.

The name of Mercurius spread far and wide. Their hero was found and he championed a cause of the legitimate Emperor Justinian. Warriors flocked to his magnetic reputation, even the elite units of Constantinople deserted the usurper to join their former comrade. Sadly, not all did.

Artemianus was aware of the Kaballarika Corp’s association with Mercurius and ordered their liquidation. In place of the Kaballarika cavalryman were an inferior cavalry regiment made up of inexperienced horseman conscripted for a role they were hardly suited to.

A sizeable soon gathered to Mercurius and he fought once more.

“Mercurius? Mercurius?”

A pair of hands shook Mercurius firmly. Mercurius firmly replied back

“^U* off”

“Words from a holy man such as you?”

“Former monk, mind you. State your business”

“An Emperor stating his business to a subject?”

Like a torsion-powered catapault, Mercurius sprung up from his dazed state and saluted the Emperor on both his feet.

“Relax” Justinian waved Mercurius’ salute down.

“What’s going on?”

“We leave for the capital of the Khazars, Itil.”

The Wizard

05-26-2004, 17:21

Keep bringin' it, I want to see this story through to the end...

Although you could use a bit more interesting scenes while working your way to the climaxes of your excitement archs. That'll keep the story going very nicely

~Wiz http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/cheers.gif

scooter_the_shooter

05-27-2004, 00:26

GREAT STORY you should try and get this published this is better than many books that are published you should definetley try and get this published i love this story http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

kataphraktoi

05-27-2004, 07:56

Recieving my laptop back for the first time in 4 months made me realise how crap the next few chapters were, so i deleted them all. 7 chapters in all......

I will take more time to write it properly and regain my 4 month broken thoughts........

right now I have bridge a gap between the visit to the Khazarian capital of Itil to the landing of the loyalist force on Bulgarian territory.

Hopefully the opening battle of the Justinianic wars can be up to scratch.

And we must not forget Leo.....I realised this might take a whole year to write. #$%^&*

frogbeastegg

05-27-2004, 09:38

You're back and writing again, great http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif

I always find the point where you realise your story is going to take longer to write than you anticipated is also the point where you find your feet, settle down and really get writing. It's the point where you know the characters, the plot, the world and can begin to play with them with much less effort than before.

scooter_the_shooter

05-29-2004, 00:27

get writting now or prepare to be attacked

not really http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-jester.gif

scooter_the_shooter

05-31-2004, 14:03

come on guy did you quit i liked this one http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/frown.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/mecry.gif

kataphraktoi

05-31-2004, 16:32

I'll only post when I feel its up to scratch...and its a long scratch in betweennnnnn.

CHAP 17: KHAZARIAN INTERVAL (PART C)
Itil

Itil. A bustling city ringed by wooden palisade walls that rose to an impressive height to overshadow the foreign guests who stood in awe of such primitive, yet impressive structures.

“I did not realise such barbarians can build such a place” blurted Mercurius to Justinian in his awe of Itil.

“We will have to hope that even barbarians can achieve miracles to restore the rightful imperator in his place don’t we Mercurius?

Our future depends on it.”

The Roman entourage navigated its ardous trek through the metropolis of Itil and the receding masses of humanity that faded away from them as their Khazarian hosts cleared a path to the Khagan’s palace and seat of his empire.

As they passed through the city, they were ensconced more than once by the endless colonnades of commerce and trade that seemed to extend forever and ever. Furs, slaves, wood, grain, anything passed through Itil like streams of water. Money exchanged hands feverishly, goods were given in a furious manner that even the formidable bureaucracy of the Romans could never successful keep up with its bookkeeping of such transactions.
Clearly, a formidable match for Constantinople’s Golden Horn, commented a follower more than once. Smoke was rising endlessly like serpents into the sky as indications that evening was about to set. Any experienced traveler to these parts will now how cold the weather can be once the merciful sun descends into its nightly rest.

TO their surprise, a church was found tucked away on some street corner where the familiar liturgies could be heard amidst supplications to a divine power. To their even greater surprise, a Muslim mosque was located beside that church. Here their prejudices were exposed as they gestured rudely to passing worshippers of Allah. Yet, one more surprise lay in wait. Just behind the mosque was a …synagogue? Justinian turned to Mercurius and discussed this interesting collection of religious buildings in a foreign land:

“What do you think Mercurius? What would the old recalcitrant patriarch Sergius in Constantinople give to have the Khazars under his spiritual authority?”

“Everything under the sun, even his own mother That old rotting fool on a the patriarchal throne thinks about nothing but his prestige. What I would give to wipe my sword on his bald scalp.”

“Any chance of the Khazars becoming part of the body of Christ?”

“Perhaps, but I think these Khazars are particularly fond of their independence of being neither Christian, nor Muslim. Who knows they could even become Jews.”

“JEWS Impossible

I do not know what kind of communion wine they gave you dear friend, but the Khazars becoming Jews will never happen.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“The Jews are cursed, Christians are the new Israel. The Jews are nothing.”

“And yet, you haven’t taken account of the fact that the Khagan’s mother is a ‘dirty’ Jew?”

“A Jew”

“You may have lived in Cherson, but you are not as well informed are you?”

“Ah Mercurius, you serpentine Goth…What else do you know? Perhaps you are right; these crazy barbarians are capable of anything”

Before long, the entourage reached the outskirts of the palace. They were welcomed courteously as they traced their steps through the vast courtyard. In stark contrast to the teeming marketplace, the palace grounds were void and barren, and not too kind on the senses as horse manure were strewn in haphazard fashion.

Obviously a horse lover thought Justinian.

A pair of hands suddenly greeted him.

It was the Khagan’s own hands.

“There is much to talk about, Roman. There is much to do if that precious crown of the Romans is to be years.

You do not seem to be in hurry are you?

I think that it is best for you to stay here for a while.”

kataphraktoi

05-31-2004, 16:36

I am thinking of cheating by recreating battles thru MTW and recording them instead of writing it up, but then again whats the use of doing so in the mead hall eh???

Kataphraktoi reins in his dour stout horse and charges to his keyboard.........................

frogbeastegg

05-31-2004, 17:06

Don't drop the battle write ups in favour of replays, it would leave great gaping holes in your narrative, and then I'd be a disappointed frog.

This latest is as readable as the rest http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/smile.gif

scooter_the_shooter

05-31-2004, 18:11

i like it http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

kataphraktoi

06-01-2004, 06:43

I've decides no more chap numbers, its too confusing for me.....................

CHAPTER: A new Justinian

Justinian walked towards the balcony of his Khazarian residence. He gripped the edge of his balcony and surveyed all before him with a steely gaze and determination. After a stay of 2 years in the capital of Itil, Justinian was a changed man. He was not an Emperor yet, but he was part of royalty, even if it was outside the Roman nobility. As a sign of favour and a diplomatic parlay, the Khagan had given his daughter to Justinian. Despite, the initial reluctance of marrying a man without a nose, such trivialities was overcome. Justinian would be a father in 3 months time.

After such a long absence from the capital, it was time to reclaim once and for all his heritage. He was the great grand-son of Heraclius, the great warrior of Rome. His father was a great warrior who defeated the Muslims when he was just a teenager. And what now for Justinian? Will he be a great warrior? The veins in his blood cry out for vengeance to restore the family honour. This was his destiny and he would die for it.

Withdrawing from the balcony he glided down the stairs to the ground floor. There his entourage were waiting. Mercurius was standing on the floor discussing small matters with officials but deflected his attention when Justinian approached him.

“Our military arrangements with the Khagan are completed, you are the only uncompleted issue”

“And what is that?”
“Your armour”

“I have not worn one for a long time, I wonder what it would feel like?”

“Zerbil Bring the imperial armour from the black smith”

A solemn procession of servants gently carried the armour that would grace and protect the royal personage of Justinian. The reverence of the servants was almost out of place, but they realized that the reverence was for the armour rather than the wearer.

It was a fine manufacture from the craftsmen.

Slowly, the armour was strapped to Justinian in a ritual so astounding close to that of robing a high level priest.

A mail lorica with gold plating was placed over his body. The lorica stretched to his elbow and down to his knees. Leather padding was placed on certain parts of his body protecting his knees, arms and chest. A three piece gold lamellar set of armour was next introduced. Each lamellar plate was richly gilded to perfection and painstakingly sown together. The first piece was a cuirass to protect his abdomen, chest, and back. The second piece were lamellar pads for the upper half of his arm. The last piece were long pads of lamellar with the plates sown onto a leather backing. These were attached to the cuirass to protect the front and flanks of his legs.

Another ensemble of servants now came with their own armour. Splint vambrace arm guards were strapped tightly on Justinian’s arms. His legs were likewise covered with a splint greave designed armour. Mail gauntlets were placed over his hands and lined with leather on the inside of his palms to grip his weapons better.

Last but most importantly was his helmet. It was another manufacture of crafted brilliance. His helmet was a composite of lamellar aventail with segmented plates for his head. It was reinforced by a gold crown that gripped around his forehead in a vice-like grip. On top of his helmet was a jeweled encrusted cross.

“Is this it? I feel like a boulder weighed down. I can’t even lift a sword”

“You will get use to it Majesty” smiled Mercurius

“Hey Don’t give that me look Its not my fault I haven’t fought a battle for years”

“Well in that case, its safe to say we have not finished with you yet, you have your armour, now you need your weapons”

“$%%^”

More and more servants poured onto the palatial floor with weapons. Like the armour, they were of a particularly high quality. A white leather quiver was tied around his waist, inside this quiver were arrows with gold tips. To his left side was strapped a bowcase with a highly intricate designed carved into the white leather in gold. The bow was a typical steppe composite bow. A sword was attached on the same side. It was made in the Spatha fashion of most Roman cavalry swords with a fine hilt of gold. Next a small shield was attached to his left arm.

“Now you are equipped. Will you require an ox cart to carry you around your Majesty?”

“Mercurius, do you know how close you are to being demoted to a latrine-cleaner?” spat Justinian with daggers pointed in one direction.

“Get me if you can. Constantinople is far far away, it takes one step to begin the journey. Are you able to move one step” laughed Mercurius along with other close associates of Justinian.

“grmumslsuhnbnueeimllell…” murmured Justinian

“What was that Majesty?”

“hghmlppgbnm,…”

“He’s learnt some bad Khazarian words hasn’t he?”

Justinian’s entourage approached him and assisted Justinian in moving in his armour.

While it took 6 hours for Justinian to take a single step, it took 2 days for Justinian to declare his army ready for war.

scooter_the_shooter

06-01-2004, 20:17

still going good most stories ahter awhile are junk but wours is as good as when it started

TheSilverKnight

06-02-2004, 03:27

MAN THIS IS SO AWESOME I love this story. When will we get to the part where Leo becomes Emperor??? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

kataphraktoi

06-02-2004, 08:29

Leo may appear in the next chapter or the chapter after that, I've been anxious to steer the focus on Leo these past few months....but it hasn't developed that way yet. Originally I had 6-7 chapters ready to post but decided to delete them. In these chapters, Leo was the leader of a militia cavalry band patrolling the no-man's land between the Roman state and the Bulgar Khanate...oh well not anymore.

TheSilverKnight

06-02-2004, 13:26

Why did you delete them? I bet they weren't bad at all http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/smile.gif

The Wizard

06-02-2004, 13:37

Looking at the first of those seven, which you did post, I don't fully agree... that chapter needed a lot more interesting scenes to carry the story, otherwise boredom would've struck.

Also, kataphraktoi, it would do your story good to have more interesting dialogues. The swearing and mumbling is funny, but no more than that. Try to make it a bit more interesting

But overall, the story and the situation is good, it only needs a bit of polishing.

~Wiz http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/cheers.gif

kataphraktoi

06-02-2004, 14:23

CHAPTER: Stepping stones

Justinian and his army marched swiftly from Itil to the nearest Byzantine outpost: Cherson.

Carrying the banners of the Roman Holy Laborum and that of the Khagan’s banner of tails, the army was a mixed contingent of Khazar and Roman elements.

A small Roman core of 3000 infantrymen were recruited from runaways and loyal soldiers, a further 1000 were elite guardsmen who fled the capital to join the loyalist uprising. Aided by the Khagan a lethal contingent of Pharganoi bodyguards was attached and sworn to Justinian for the rest of his life. Like Justinian they wore a mask to hide their faces, an intimidating sight to the enemy who encounter such unknown quantities. They numbered at 2000. Mercurius himself had personally recruited 500 expert horsemen to form the core of the new cavalry elite: the Kaballarika Klibanarii. A new company of heavy cavalry lancer-archers raised from the steppes but versed in Roman discipline and martial prowess. As the this army carved a path towards Cherson, other volunteers joined the cause at the prospect of plunder and adventure. They swelled the army by 3000 more irregulars. Justinian had a force of 9500 in total and used it to great effect.

Cherson was stormed and the governor executed in the first day. Messengers swiftly carried the news to Artemianus, who at this moment, was embroiled in a tough merciless campaign to expel the Saracens under Mutasim.

A week later, Justinian sailed for the Thracian coast. One of his most quoted remarks before leaving was:

“Like Julius Caesar crossing the Rubicon. We conquer or die. God save us all.”

CHAPTER: Stepping stones pt2

The armada of Justinian landed unopposed on the shores of eastern Thrace. Local opposition was swept away as Mercurius consolidated and strengthened loyalist control in the depleted provinces of the western Roman periphery. With his elite cavalrymen he impressed and convinced the Thracian populace to join the Justinianic cause. Justinian, for his part, rallied his old comrades, officers and officials and set up a temporary capital in Adrianople, which surrendered with a fight.

As fate would have it, Leo was on his way to Adrianople with a large contingent of sheep. Justinian rode with a small retinue, the rest of the army was garrisoned in Adrianople waiting for his presence. Leo, well informed, and a little cunning in the bargain decided to impress the Emperor. He had heard of the loyalist rebellion but could not believe that it had reached the shores. Upon first word, he convinced his uncle to allow him to contribute to the loyalist cause. And what better way to impress than through the stomach. After all, fighting men require food to live, and live to fight.

As Justinian and his retinue made their way down a dusty Thracian mule track, they were intercepted by a large body – of sheep.

One of Pharganoi bodyguards yelled out in coarse Greek:

“What is this? Get these sheep of the track. Do you not know who is passing this way?”

Leo replied quickly:

“I do, I am aware of his Majesty, the true Emperor of the Romans, and savior of the Germaniceans”

The Pharganoi retinue suddenly fell silent as one among them pushed his way forward. It was the golden figure of Justinian in his resplendent armour and regalia.

“Saviour of Germanicea, you say? I have not heard of Germanicea for a long time…why Germanicea young man?”

“It is because I am a Germanicean. A long time ago, you saved rescued the natives of Germaniceans and settled them here. And I am here to pay gratitude to the sovereign of the Romans with what I have, 500 sheep.”

“It is a great gift you have given. Your loyalty remains true and untarnished. Even great warriors require food. I see that you are of a good build, a healthy countenance with a keen sense and grasp for words. As a small token of my acceptance of your gift, I ask that you join one of my elite companies that I am forming in my coming war against the usurper.”

“As I am my father’s son, I accept. I am Leo, son of Arcadius”

“Then you will known as Leo the Syrian. I will have one of my commanders give you a uniform in the new guard of the Kaballarika Klibanarii, prove your worth and perhaps you will become more than just a soldier.”

“Thank you, your Majesty. I am in your service”

kataphraktoi

06-02-2004, 14:28

CHAPTER: Battle of Varna pt1

By the time Leo had arrived in Adrianople. The city was already a hive of activity with the inhabitants of the city scurrying across the city spreading news and rumours of new developments in the north.

The Bulgar Khan, bound to Artemianus, has massed a huge army to march against Justinian.

At first sound, Justinian calmly dispersed his messengers to his various commanders in Thrace to coalesce at Adrianople as soon as possible. Thrace was now in the Justinianic camp, when they heard of the impending Bulgar invasion, they were galvanized by the word of Justinian to a great effort in mobilizing their resources to repel an enemy the usurper Artemianus had scarcely paid attention to.

Within weeks, Adrianople was not an ordinary city on the Thracian frontier. It became the lynch-pin of the loyalist cause. The city was overrunning with soldiers and volunteers. Leo himself was caught up in this whirlwind of activity. Staying close to Justinian’s retinue, he learnt firsthand about what he got himself into.

For days, reports filtered in tracing the movements of the Bulgar army. Some were hazy, some were clear, but all agreed, the Khan was near the borders of Thrace.

In his council of war, Justinian, Mercurius and other leading commanders gathered to discuss their plan for dealing with the Bulgar intervention.
Justinian opened the council with an admission:

“When I was a younger man, I was confident of anything and everything I did. It was my strength…and mistake. I am here today because of that mistake. I will not make that mistake again. You are here because you are experienced. You are here because you are loyal. You are here because you know the arts of war better than me. Give me your advice, you will not find me arrogant but grateful. I am a keen student, so therefore, keenly teach me from your experience”

“Emperor, we accept your kind words and promise to teach you in humility and reverence according to tour estate” replied a senior commander by the name of Hadrianus.

“Now that I have said what I needed to, let us agree on a stratagem.

The Bulgars are marching through the mountain range that separate Thrace from Moesia, but they are delayed by bad weather or late and not to mention some artificially induced landslide by a few of our Akriti cavalrymen.

“I have received reports that a small detachment of soldiers from Artemianus will meet with the Bulgars at Varna. This indicates one thing. They haven’t taken into account that we have a sizeable navy that will destroy that detachment.

What do you make of this”

“I believe a combined and land and water attack is in order, Emperor”

“How so Marcian?”

“We should intercept the detachment by land and destroy them. We should also place a naval force just north of Varna. When the Bulgars meet at Varna we should confront them with our land forces. We pin the Bulgars down by luring into a false sense of security by our ‘inferior’ numbers. Meanwhile our naval force comes in from the rear and encircle the Bulgar army. If possible, we can possibly place special units to occupy and bloack mountain passes and trap the Bulgar army?”

“I agree with Marcian, it makes sense. But I think we should think ahead of just simply trapping the Bulgars”

“What do you have in mind Mercurius?”

“I say we trap them and offer them a way out. Ask them to add to our strength. If we destroy them, they may become our most implacable enemy in the future.”

“A wise and foresighted idea” chimed in Marcian

‘What is it then Emperor?”

“It seems to be the best idea so far, I see merit in preserving the Bulgar army for our uses. Why waste our army against Bulgar when the real enemy is Artemianus and the Saracens?”

We must however execute this quickly, we cannot waste time.”

Leo had managed to acquire from Mercurius, his commander a uniform for the Kaballarika Klibanarii. It was a fine uniform, although it was particularly heavy for a young man. Nonetheless he accepted the burdens. The past days have been nothing but surreal for his unaccustomed experience of war. Mercurius, as he knew was a former priest in his village and now a commander of elite troops in the same company. A few times he had to ask himself what was lying in wait for him.

Before the call was made for the army to mobilize, he occupied himself with the training required of an elite cavalryman. He was already accustomed to horseback riding since he could draw from his experience as part-time militiaman on patrolling duty against marauding Bulgars. Weapons were now problem except the rigorous demand of handling a lance, a bow and a mace in a quick succession. He watched with intent and interest as Mercurius and his experienced Klibanarii demonstrated with deadly ease and deft.

“Unbelievable” uttered Leo in scarcely disguised amazement.

Mercurius was in full armour and on horseback as he swiftly unleashed a volley of arrows at a small target before switching to a lance and then a mace. The lance was used to impale an effigy while the mace was utilized against a wooden head. To Leo’s even further amazement, Mercurius switched to his missile weapon and fired an arrow backwards as he rode away from his target.

Leo suddenly looked downcast. He realized why the Kaballarika was so elite. Because the ability of these horsemen were simply too good, too professional, too impossible for his ability or so he thought.

But he had no time to ponder about it. Mercurius trained him mercilessly until he had the rudimentary skills to meet the standards required. If he was not ready, too bad. War was war. He had to fight.

The piercing blare of a horn was heard across the morning sky across Adrianople. Before the sun could ascend above the still cloudy overhead sky, the army was already moving out of the gates. Slowly but silently they filed past the two enormous towers flanking each side of the massive gates that creaked irreverently on such a pristine morning. It was also snowing. Snowflakes began to contrast the armour and weapons of each and every soldier. Those lightly armed had only a leather buffcoat and cloak to comfort them.

For Leo and his company, they had the luxury of a several layers of mail, lamellar, leather and cape to conform to the requirements of select troopers. The only worry were weapons being frosted in their cases. Even the horses were fortunate. They were covered by Kataphrakt armour that covered them everywhere apart from their legs. Beneath their armour was a warm undercoat to protect their stout and strong bodies.

Justinian as usual was in his golden armour. A striking display against the white snow. His facial mask was a dour expression of grit and expectation as he led his army. Likewise his Pharganoi bodyguard who marched in line with their sovereign and carried their fearsome polearm Rhompaia into battle.

katank

06-04-2004, 03:38

very good job and looking forward to the rest http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

did the kats really use maces?

also, is the Pharganoi force Khazari or Roman?

kataphraktoi

06-04-2004, 09:00

Khazari by ethnicity, Roman by employmeny :D

Thw Wizard:
criticsm taken. honestly my brain is drained at the moment of ideas.

Yep, Kats did use maces. freguency not known though, but byzantines did earn a reputation with the arabs for their maces...

The Wizard

06-04-2004, 10:13

The Byzantine heavy cavalry was known to use maces in the centuries following Heraclius, up to the 10th century. But didn't they use sabres as well?

Also, kataphraktoi, you can tell a story quite nicely, but - to me - you seem to concentrate a bit much on numbers and equipment of troops. The name of regiments and/or origins of mercenaries like the pharganoi will do just fine - concentrate on the battle rather than telling a history book-like description of the events. I liked your Wonder Years chapters - you concentrated on several key characters to describe the events from their perspective. That is, in my view, exactly what you should do here, to make it a lot more engrossing to read.

May inspiration return to you, and Godspeed

~Wiz http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/cheers.gif

kataphraktoi

06-04-2004, 16:43

I actually thought the wonder years were crap.

Come to think of it. The only people who know the regiments are .....................me

Might have to insert a chapter just to explain it all...within the narrative of course.

half my time is split between this and drawing a graphic novel.

kataphraktoi

06-04-2004, 17:10

CHAPTER: BATTLE OF VARNA PT2

The cold misty air followed the Roman vanguard as they cut a swathe through the increasingly thick snow. Leo’s sweat quickly turned to ice as he strove hard to concentrate on the task ahead. Hours flew past with abandoned as his Kaballarika regiment hurried to intercept the detachment sent by Artemianus.

Suddenly, the whole body of cavalry halted. Leo caught his breathe, grateful that fate had granted a respite.

An officer whispered in Mercurius’ ear. Enemy was sighted.

“What do you estimate Justin? How many are there?”

“Lord, a small body only. 1000 at best and on foot”

“Not one must survive, Justin. Not one.

Take Ammatas and sent up a pincer. I will command the center”

“Yes, sir”

The Kaballarika was divided into three groups. Leo was quartered to Mercurius’ own division. Slowly he rode beside Mercurius, his armour creaking quietly in the still cavalcade of snow. He observed his commander and noted the silent grit in his eyes. A born leader, thought Leo.

“LANCES” commanded Mercurius

As trained by Mercurius, Leo held his lance upright. A bristle of spears could be seen against a background of trees and snow. Leo’s own lance was in the middle. He gripped his lance tightly in anticipation of battle and bit his lower lip as the monumental debut of combat in a real army dawned upon him.

“MARCH IN ORDER” bellowed Mercurius

Slowly the Mercurian division slowly marched their horses to confront the detachment which at that moment had not realized they were being trapped in the Thracian winter.
Leo prodded his horse into a canter then a trot as both rider and horse tinkered with the weight of armour and weapons.

Easy, easy now, whispered Leo.

He could not hold his lance still, nervousness gripped him as he accidentally let slip his lance.

Before the lance could hit the ground, a hand intervened and grabbed the lance.

“What use is a weapon, boy, if you drop it?”

Looking at the face of his intervener, he saw the Gothic blue eyes of Mercurius”

“Sorry Sir, I…I…will not let it happen again”

“See that it doesn’t, stay near me and learn”

Leo took back his lance and gripped it tight without mercy as if he was fused with it.

He breathed a sigh of relief and prayed silently that he would survive this war.

The massed concentration of horse, man and armour weaved its way innocuously towards the detachment at a favourable angle in the terrain. The body stopped. Leo reigned his horse in with deliberation as he waited for the moment to attack.

Mercurius’ fist rose then lowered.

All lances were tilted down. Aimed at the moment.

Mercurius’s eyes then looked up. In the white haze and purity of the winter sky he sought he wanted. A sign. But not just a sign, a pre-arranged signal. Two arrows were shot from the left and right telling Mercurius that his divisions were poised and ready.

Leo stared at Mercurius.

Mercurius then stared at Leo.

“Here, take the horn. Blow it. Nothing strikes fear more than the sound of surprise.”

Leo received the ivory horn from Mercurius with shock. Unexpected, he nearly dropped the horn like his lance but caught it quickly between his lance and his hands.

Breathing in deeply, he placed the horn to his lips.

Within seconds, a loud wail echoed from the forage Leo’s division was hidden in.

1000 eyes stared in the direction of that sound. The whites in their eyes were camouflaged by the snow.

“CHARGE”

Leo wrapped the horn around his saddle and urged his charger forward as did his commander and his comrades. The hooves of pounded the snow like thunder and stirred a crescendo of maelstrom in its wake. Leo’s eyes were widened as he inched closer to the enemy, his heart beat erratically and frenetically. He thought his heart was going to jump out of his armour any minute.

Meanwhile, the detachment quickly formed a line of spears with shield interlocked in a phalanx of bristles glimmering in the embattled winter sun. The commander had a good command of his men and they stood resolute in the face of a terrifying cavalry charge.

Without warning, a horn was blown to the left…then the right.

The hapless commander was torn between two irreconcilaible situations. His men unwittingly broke formation as they responded to the direction of the two horns. The phalanx wall was a shamble. 1000 men were thrown into confusion much to the liking of Mercurius.

Mercurius ordered his men into a tight wedge formation with him as the pinnacle of the point. Fearless and cool, he harangued his men into a fever pitch of reckless abandoned and unearthed courage. By now he could see the very eyes of his enemy as he aimed his lance purposefully.

The clash of metal against metal, metal against flesh and flesh against metal producing an unnatural sound in the Thracian landscape as it splintered and echoed in all directions. Blood run freely quite quickly as the Mercurian division tore into the confused mass of enemy soldiers. Leo impaled and lost his lance to an unfortunate warrior who stood in his path. He was pinned to the next soldier behind who was pinned to the next unfortunate close to him. The force broke the lance and rendered it useless for further combat.

Leo’s horse was halted in momentum as it collided and enmeshed itself into a host of unsuspecting soldiers. The result was chaos. Leo was thrown violently over the horse despite his stirrups. The violent shock forced Leo to cough blood through his mail hood.
He slowly gathered his wits as wild delirium set in. Voices and faces merged into one haze before he was catapulted into reality by a blow to his head. It was a stray blow from a single combat between a Klibanarii and a spearman. Because of his helmet, the effect wasn’t mortal. Leo shook his head and opened his blurred eyes to see an armoured cavalryman charging at him. Leo reached for his paramerion saber, a curved sword used for slashing.

“Damn” he spat out. “Its frozen onto the scabbard”

Reacting quickly he braced himself as the lance was drawn towards him.

Catching the cavalryman by surprised he grabbed the lance with both hands and held as tight as he could. The enemy horseman was unhorsed to a standstill and fell awkwardly. Dropping the lance, he untied his mace in a leather pouch and drew it menacingly at the assailment. With a swift blow to the head, he took out the incumbent’s eyes and half his frontal facial features;

Leo breathed big gulps of air as he tried to reconcile what he did. Alas, no reconciliation was possible. He noticed something unusual, the ebb and flow of the battle dissipated as the other divisions landed their deathblows on the detachment. The shock and weight of their charge knocked the wind from the enemy. They were slaughtered in the merciless rout.

Sensing victory, Leo dropped to his knees. His mace rolled beside him.

“So this is war?” he asked himself but he did not count on a reply

“War? No, not even close.”

It was Mercurius, he was still on horseback.

“You survived a miracle Now get back on your horse, we must proceed to Varna”

Leo lumbered to his horse and saddled himself securely. Reining his horse once again he joined the rest of his comrades as they nonchalantly marched in the direction of Varna after a quick skirmish. Provided that their force was only 400 strong, it was not a situation to be left alone in the unsafe Thracian frontier, only a few miles away from hostile Bulgar territory.

The snow continued to accumulate slowly and subtle. Soon the detachment was covered in their grave - fodder for the Thracian season.

ah_dut

06-04-2004, 23:41

Great story Kataphraktoi http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif Where can i get your dark ages mod by the way? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-help.gif

The Wizard

06-05-2004, 00:14

Hmm yes, this chapter was nice, this story is living up again. Keep it up

~Wiz

kataphraktoi

06-05-2004, 05:07

the dark ages mod was full of unfinished stuff...so until I finish it I won't re-release it...sorry bout that.

and, if I get the hang of gmax, I may chuck in a few new animations.

kataphraktoi

06-05-2004, 05:16

chapter extension of the last one.

Mercurius’ men arrived at Varna just after evening. The snow had subsided mercifully. Varna was in their hands, captured when Justinian’s officers spread throughout Thrace bringing them into submission to his sovereignty. The local commander greeted the Kaballarika warmly and received them through the gates immediately.

“Lord Mercurius, it Is good to see again”

“Likewise Metochites, but I do not bring good tidings for you or for Varna.

A Bulgar army and a detachment of Artemianus’ men were going to rendezvous here.

We have already destroyed the detachment, but the Bulgar army is still arriving.”

The commander’s face paled and searched intently for any further information Mercurius could furnish.

“You want to know what is going to happen don’t you”

Metochites nodded.

“Varna will not be left to its own devices. We plan to trap the Bulgar army before they harms this port”

Mercurius patted the commander on his back and asked him about the local food and wine available in Varna and left the rest of the Kaballarika to their own autonomy.

The fortress – port of Coryth appeared in the horizon like a beacon of white marble to Justinian. After marching through the winter slog, it would be good for his men to rest and recuperate before the initiating the next plan of strategy against the Bulgars. As they approached the gates of the city, Justinian and his retinue of the remaining Kaballarika stood apart from the rest of the army as they marched in.

Justinian was proud of his army, more so of the Pharganoi bodyguard given to him by the Khagan. As the brother in law of the Khagan Asprukan, he was given a 4000 strong regiment of these fearsome warriors. When asked of their origins, he was told about their recruitment as slaves from a region in Central Asia swarming with Turkic peoples. Ferghana, to be precise, was that region. Captured as young boys, the Khagan paid handsomely for them and trained them into a fierce elite fighting force that could adapt to horseback or fighting on foot. In this instance, they were heavy infantrymen distinct with their emotionless and cold masks with hollowed eyes and mouth. They were also distinguished by a particular weapon of choice that was quite feared. In their hands was a two-handed falx Rhompaia. A huge blade was attached at the end of the staff to create a formidable assault weapon. As usual, the Pharganoi were silent and disciplined. If they were feared by their enemies, they were more so by their own soldiers who steered clear of them at every opportunity.

When the rest of the army was inside, the gates were shut tight.

kataphraktoi

06-05-2004, 06:14

CHAPTER: BATTLE OF VARNA PT 3 (Yes The actual battle)
The opening skirmish

The Bulgar host trundled its way slowly across the river facing Varna. On this particular day, the sun pierced through the winter clouds and melted the snow. The combination of snow and dirt transformed the crossing of the river into an arduous affair as the Bulgars became ensnared in parts of the river. Ominously, the river was also swelling with melted snow. The Bulgar Khan Tervelis looked in disgust at the slow progress of his magnificent army. At most, a 56,000 strong consisting of forced levies, horse archers, mercenaries, adventurers and his own Boyar retinue.

Justinian watched this imposing sight on horseback and in full armour from across the field. His army reached Varna a day ahead of the Bulgars giving him time to make his dispositions. All his men saw it too. However, not one showed fear. Instead, only determination.

A priest emerged from the solid ranks of Roman soldiers carrying a holy laborum, the symbol of victory given to Constantine the Great 3 centuries ago. Inscribed on the cross were the words “with this sign conquer”

It was also the same inscription on Justinian’s helmet etched in silver.

Exhortations and prayers were conducted by the elderly mediator between God and men.

As if in perfect co-ordination, all cavalrymen bowed their heads. All warriors on foot kneeled. When the priest finished, Mercurius rode across the Roman army capturing the attention of all the soldiers. He unsheathed his sword and raised it swinging it over his head over and over again.

“You are warriors of Christ You are the protector of his holy state and church When the barbarian hordes of Satan march to your gates do you run away? NO You fight like holy warriors All men are sinners, let this be our PENANCE For years, a usurper has failed in his duty to be Emperor of the Roman state. BUT LOOK Your true Emperor has RETURNED He now leads you from the front. He risks his life for YOU If we die today, our greatest burial shroud is our sacrifice. This is beginning of a holy war to destroy the enemies of CHRIST There will be many battles. Many deaths. This is our WAR”

Soon the ranks of the Roman soldiers were ablaze with life. Lances, spears, swords, axes, maces and bows were lifted in unison as they chanted the ancient war-cry of their forefathers in battle.

“THE CROSS HAS CONQUERED”

To the Bulgars watching this spectacle from afar, they could not comprehend what the Romans were excited about. They had the larger army, the most fiercest warriors on earth and a superior record against the Romans to prove it. They had finally negotiated the muddy river and were beginning to form their battle lines consisting of masses of men lined up together in no coherent order.

“Fools” shouted Tervelis

“My army will wipe them of the earth. I will make that Justinian’s skull a drinking cup.

Why have they come to fight? Look at their numbers, not even fit for a hunting trip

Send the horse archers, we will teach them a lesson”

Leo sat on his charger staring at the Bulgar host. He remembered the words his commander Mercurius quite well:

“War? No, not even close”

This, thought Leo, was war.

From his vantage point, which was the right flank of the Roman army, he saw a mass of cavalry riding towards the Roman line arrayed in the standard deployment of a center with a second line of reserves, flanks and another reserve behind. They were Bulgar horse archers known for their harassment tactics, often causing horrendous casualties.

He saw the golden figure of Justinian shouting and order and saw immediately, a strong line of Psiloi archers marching ahead of the heavy infantry phalanx in the centre.

Under the command of an officer, the Psiloi presented their bows, strung their arrows, pulled back and then wait for the order to fire.

The Bulgars closed in on the Roman army with astonishing speed. Their idea was that speed was armour. But that idea can sometimes be their undoing. Their bows were drawn and their targets acquired as they arched their backs to unleash a volley. But before they could even loose one arrow, they were assaulted by the torrential rain of arrows from the Romans. Unsuspecting Bulgars were mowed down in that quick volley. Those who still had their arrows ready to fire misfired. The Romans seeing the carnage caused by their own archers looked with amusement as arrows were shot in every direction except theirs.

With surprising rapidity, the Psiloi unleashed another torrent. The sky was blotted by their arrows as the Bulgars found it hard to cope with this sudden onslaught. More Bulgars fell to the ground dropping like flies. Convinced that their numbers would prevail, they vainly tried to reply back with their own firepower. Useless. No respite was forthcoming. Shocked, they retreated with undue haste towards their own line.

Khan Tervelis was furious. He did not expect this setback.

His confidence and trust in his own men was misplaced and rudely discredited.
Not to worry, thought Tervelis. He did, after all, have the numbers. Now he must redouble his efforts. He ordered a larger force of horse archers to overwhelm the Roman archers.

And the same result ensued.

The Bulgar horse archers were badly mauled in that confrontation. Only this time it wasn’t just at the hands of the Psiloi but the light cavalry which stealthy positioned themselves to strike the Bulgars when they were caught in the confusion of another missile barrage.

Tervelis’ face grew to an unnatural red tinge and threw his shield to the ground.

No more harassment tactics this time. He thought. He had the numbers; he would now try and overwhelm the whole Roman army by a single charge. A numerical advantage of 3 to 1 was too good to pass up. It must be taken.

scooter_the_shooter

06-06-2004, 02:17

no offence but this story was GREAT just about perfect at the begining but about 2 thirds through it seems like you dont want to write it your recent chapters seem like you dont really want to write like it is a chore that you hate it but maybey it will pass and this story will be restored to the glory it once had http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

Copperhead

06-07-2004, 00:25

Quote[/b] (ceasar010 @ June 06 2004,02:17)]no offence but this story was GREAT just about perfect at the begining but about 2 thirds through it seems like you dont want to write it your recent chapters seem like you dont really want to write like it is a chore that you hate it but maybey it will pass and this story will be restored to the glory it once had http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif
jesus christ, have all the punctuation keys disappeared from your keyboard or something? I do however agree with the parts of your post that were comprehendable.

scooter_the_shooter

06-07-2004, 02:22

no just my way of typing i am usually on aim and that

kataphraktoi

06-07-2004, 07:28

CHAPTER: BATTLE OF VARNA pt 4

The Roman army grew silent. The only noise was that of the Bulgar army charging towards them. The earth shook with violence; the tremors reverberated to the feet of Roman warriors. Even the horses were disoriented to a certain degree.

Justinian adjusted himself into a comfortable position on his horse then lifted his lance.

At this, the Roman army retreated and scattered.

The Bulgar stopped in their tracks as they were caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events. Tervelis could not believe his eyes, his jaws dropped as he viewed the consequences of his decision to charge. It seemed to have succeeded.

Until, of course, the Roman army paused in their retreat and took up formation again.

Silence.

“A feigned retreat” shouted Tervelis. “To hell with them This time we pursue them to the ends of the earth, they have no where to run”

The Bulgar soon resumed their charge.

This time, the Roman army stayed where they were intent on confronting the mass charge of Bulgar which threatened to overwhelm them like flood. But Justinian had different ideas; this was not a defensive reactioin, this was an offensive one.

He pointed his lance at the Bulgars and his men responded.
The standard Roman formation took on different look; it slowly transformed itself into huge pointed wedge. Pharganoi bodyguards were stationed at its apex positioning their Rhompaia in a sharp hedge of bristles. The cavalry were ordered to retreat into the center of the formation and draw their bows. The rest of the army formed a solid wall on each side of the wedge with their spears and pikes jutting outward in a dangerous cordon.

Meanwhile Justinian dismounted from his mount and took his place with the Pharganoi. Planting his lance in the ground, he unsheathed his magnificent spatha blade which glistened and squealed as he drew it. Gripping his sword with both hands, he positioned himself to receive the enemy. At the moment he heard what he wanted to hear despite the difficultly of hearing it through the war-cries of the Bulgars.

In the far distance, the Roman army that was dispatched from the rear of the Bulgar army took their expected positions behind the river. A horn was blown which caught the attention of the Bulgars.

Again, the Bulgar was brought to a halt. Tervelis saw what was happening, he was trapped. He turned his horse to his left and saw to his horror another shock.

From the gates of Varna marched another Roman army.

Justinian had drawn him into a killing field. He was trapped. At any moment, Justinian and his army was poised to strike into the heart of the Bulgar army.

Before, the Thracian landscape was filled with the war-cry of Bulgar warriors, now only the cold wind blowing through the air. Uncertainty plagued Tervelis. It became quite chilly.

A lone horsemen rode from the army that marched out of Varna towards Tervelis.

“Khan Tervelis, illustrious ruler of the mighty Bulgars. My Emperor Justinian has asked for no further conflict. He asks for you to break the alliance with usurper Artemianus and instead swear friendship to the true Emperor”

Tervelis received the message with suspicion. Justinian could destroy his whole army and land a blow to the Bulgar Khanate.

“Perhaps to make sure you understand the situation consider the benefits of accepting my Emperor’s clemency.

You will have your life

A generous subsidy

Honours and titles

And further potential for riches and plunder”

Both the messenger and Tervelis knew he had no choice. But it was beneficial for him.

“Tell your Emperor, the Khan of the Bulgars accepts his offer.”

“Very good, illustrious Khan, but we require one thing from you”

“And what is that, Roman?”

“The immediate handover of 20,000 Bulgar warriors for the Emperor’s wars.”

“So be it, a small sacrifice. I will even order one of my sons to lead such a force”

“If it pleases you”

Without warning, Tervelis drew his saber and decapitated the horsemen’s head.

“ROMAN DOG, NO ONE THREATENS THE KHAN OF THE BULGARS”

Justinian saw that his entreaties were rejected and commanded the full force of the Roman army to bear on the Bulgar enemy. The imperial trumpet was blown, the Roman army as one.

Tervelis and his retinue drifted to the center of his army and ordered it to confront the Roman on each side. The Bulgar mass lumbered into their crude formations. The Khan resolved upon a cunning stratagem, since he was surrounded on three sides, he would use the exposed side to commit a flank attack on Justinian’s wedge.

Like an inexorable stream of volcanic lava, the Romans marched instep as they were drawn to the enemy. No soldier was permitted to make a noise; all were to march in silence. As they drew closer, their steps quickened. A walk became a trot. The trot became a jog.

Justinian and his division connected with the Bulgar’s first. His wedge formation tore into the Bulgars without mercy. The Pharganoi opened a gap with their energetic use of the Rhompaia, hacking left and right with as much vigor as is expected of driven men. Helpless against their fearsome blades, limbs were lost and armour cut to pieces against a shredding machine. In vain did the Bulgars attempt to stop this massacre. Meanwhile, Justinian was busy amongst his Pharganoi with his blade careening into any Bulgar unfortunately to cross his path. Blood soon stained his golden armour. Suddenly, he came upon a giant Bulgar infantryman wielding an axe and a large shield. Obviously a champion of his race and reputable one at that. His Bulgar comrades stepped away as the champion moved towards Justinian. Justinian ordered his guards to clear the way.

Digging his heels into the snow, Justinian braced for the Bulgar’s attack. Roaring curses, the Bulgar champion charged towards the Emperor with his axe swinging violently, a few Bulgars who approached too close were struck. The Bulgar struck first. Justinian deflected the attack by strucking the axe away as it came upon him. However, the axe was still firmly in the grasp of the champion. Not deterred, the Bulgar swang his shield at Justinian and caught the Emperor by surprise. Knocked to the ground, Justinian had to respond quickly as another axe blow was attempted. The blow was deflected but before the Bulgar brought his shield down upon his opponent. This time the shield struck Justinian’s face. Had it not been for his facial armour, the consequences would have been serious/ Stunned and shocked, Justinian recovered his composure to swing his legs beneath the giant’s own. The Bulgar fell upon his back. A moan resounded from the flattened snow. The Emperor brought himself up off the ground and took on a defensive stance waiting for the Bulgar to recover his position. Enraged, the giant run towards Justinian in the same manner as he did before. With a quick step, Justinian turned away from the charge and brought his blade down to bear on the Bulgar’s shoulders. With a clean sweep, the champion’s shoulder was cleaved off. Not waiting to see how his enemy would react, Justinian closed in for the kill and beheaded his challenger.

Tervelis saw all around him that battle was engaged, spurring his horse, he called upon his retinue to initiate the flanking attack. Driving through the exposed gap in the Roman trap, he swung upon the left side of the Roman wedge. Seeing that the left flank of the Roman wedge was still intact, he proceeded to attack the rear. To his joy, he found the rear exposed and ripe for an attack and ordered his retinue to attack with all the fury of the Bulgar race. The well – timed charge had its desired effect. Discplined order and formation was shattered by this fierce charge. Sensing the opportunity for more damage, Tervelis proceed to fight deeper and deeper into the Romans. Ecstatic with his success, he failed to notice that the Romans had not all committed their forces yet.

In the far distance, Mercurius and his Kaballarika were watching and observing. Their duty was to deliver the decisive charge. They saw Tervelis’s daring attack, they saw it was engaged. They also an opportunity to turn the Khan’s stratagem into a mistake. Mercurius ordered his men to be in position and the order was given for the regiment to move into place.

kataphraktoi

06-08-2004, 15:28

Concluding chapter...now I will go away and not come back for a long long long time to figure out what to with story........................................

CHAPTER: BATTLE OF VARNA PT5

The charge was decisive. The consequences, catastrophic. The Bulgars were smashed and routed by Mercurius’ well-timed charge. Tervelis was seen fleeing the field. When his warriors saw this, they too followed the example of their leadership. No easier way to be killed than to run and this was where most of their casualties ensued. A bloody trail snaked its way across the white landscape of the Thracian snow, the warm blood melting imprimts into the snow leaving a reminder of the butchery that was the Battle of Varna.

Tervelis drove his mount with all his fury determined to escape capture and certain retribution if caught. He had lost the day, but saved his life. Now he must contend with the shame in his capital and throughout the Khanate.

After 4 hours of sweeping operations, the Romans decided that their victory had been exploited to its fullest extent, and besides, they were tired. Tired, but victorious.

Justinian was carried aloft on the shoulders of two Pharganoi bodyguards. It was most appropriate that his bodyguards were tall, well built and strong since he was still in full armour and a great deal heavier. His warriors had seen him fighting in their midst risking life and limb just like them. He was also exposed to the danger of losing his life. The fact that he prevailed won him prestige and reputation. The victorious still held his blade, covered in blood and gore but still lustrous where the toll of battle had not covered it. This he now raised above his head rousing his troops with every swing. A soldier handed him a horn of wine and he grabbed it enthusiastically. Toasting his victory to God and the saints he greedily polished the horn’s contents quickly in one gulp. Stirred and fired by the delirium of the moment, Justinian took his helmet off and tucked it underneath his arms. It did not matter that he had no nose. The nose did not impede him from being an Emperor or being a successful general. No one cared.

He tasted victory for the first time in a long time. It was sweet. He wanted more.

Victorious Romans celebrated throughout the night in Varna, all except the leadership of the army. While they basked in their victory, they did so cautiously and conservsatively.

“Congratulations on your victory, Emperor. It is a fine achievement” praised Mercurius.
“Thank You, Commander, but all men had played their part” replied Justinian warmly.
“But we must now be vigilant. The Bulgars have been severely defeated, they will not trouble us for a year or two. Our energies must now focus on our greater enemies: Artemianus and the Saracens”

The Roman leadership pondered this new development long into the night while Varna remained active and jubilant in the glory of the Battle of Varna. The Thracian winter did not seem so cold after all…

kataphraktoi

06-08-2004, 15:54

sneaky peek of next chapter:

Unbelievable. He could not believe what he was hearing. An emissary mission had arrived from Artemianus’ rebel faction offering the crown to Justinian, who had never renounced the crownship of the Romans state. Artemianus was dead, defeated in a pitched battle near Iconium. And now, he was the only Emperor left. But to expect sudden victory in such circumstances were never precipitated. The emissaries carried with them something even more valuable than the news they relayed: the keys of Constantinople.

The Wizard

06-08-2004, 18:08

Quote[/b] (Copperhead @ June 07 2004,00:25)]
Quote[/b] (ceasar010 @ June 06 2004,02:17)]no offence but this story was GREAT just about perfect at the begining but about 2 thirds through it seems like you dont want to write it your recent chapters seem like you dont really want to write like it is a chore that you hate it but maybey it will pass and this story will be restored to the glory it once had http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif
jesus christ, have all the punctuation keys disappeared from your keyboard or something? I do however agree with the parts of your post that were comprehendable.
Hey now, calm down will you? It's true that caesar010's punctuation needs some work, but can't you even take the effort to comment on that in a normal way? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/rolleyes.gif

~Wiz

Copperhead

06-08-2004, 18:55

Quote[/b] (The Wizard @ June 08 2004,18:08)]
Quote[/b] (Copperhead @ June 07 2004,00:25)]
Quote[/b] (ceasar010 @ June 06 2004,02:17)]no offence but this story was GREAT just about perfect at the begining but about 2 thirds through it seems like you dont want to write it your recent chapters seem like you dont really want to write like it is a chore that you hate it but maybey it will pass and this story will be restored to the glory it once had http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif
jesus christ, have all the punctuation keys disappeared from your keyboard or something? I do however agree with the parts of your post that were comprehendable.
Hey now, calm down will you? It's true that caesar010's punctuation needs some work, but can't you even take the effort to comment on that in a normal way? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/rolleyes.gif

~Wiz
why should i calm down? a joke is a joke. to be quite honest i don't think that just saying use punctuation is a better way of telling someone that. making a joke is much better.

The Wizard

06-08-2004, 19:21

BTW, kataphraktoi, were you perhaps inspired by the 1998 novel Justinian by H.N. Turteltaub?

~Wiz

The Wizard

06-08-2004, 19:29

Quote[/b] (Copperhead @ June 08 2004,18:55)]
Quote[/b] (The Wizard @ June 08 2004,18:08)]
Quote[/b] (Copperhead @ June 07 2004,00:25)]
Quote[/b] (ceasar010 @ June 06 2004,02:17)]no offence but this story was GREAT just about perfect at the begining but about 2 thirds through it seems like you dont want to write it your recent chapters seem like you dont really want to write like it is a chore that you hate it but maybey it will pass and this story will be restored to the glory it once had http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif
jesus christ, have all the punctuation keys disappeared from your keyboard or something? I do however agree with the parts of your post that were comprehendable.
Hey now, calm down will you? It's true that caesar010's punctuation needs some work, but can't you even take the effort to comment on that in a normal way? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/rolleyes.gif

~Wiz
why should i calm down? a joke is a joke. to be quite honest i don't think that just saying use punctuation is a better way of telling someone that. making a joke is much better.
A joke? Well, maybe it's a joke, but the bit of jesus christ certainly detracts from the potential of a laugh, and makes it disrespectful.

~Wiz

Copperhead

06-09-2004, 01:13

disrespectful to who? and how does it make it seem like less of a joke, i myself would assume that anyone who begins a sentance with 'jesus christ' is joking, simple as that. if ceasar010 finds it offensive then i will gladly remove it, but he hasn't claimed anger or sadness at my comment, i think you are just being argumentative.

discovery1

06-09-2004, 05:33

Excellent work kataphraktoi http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ceasaryes.gif. I propose a toast in your honor http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/medievalcheers.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/medievalcheers.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/medievalcheers.gif

The Wizard

06-09-2004, 13:47

Quote[/b] (Copperhead @ June 09 2004,01:13)]disrespectful to who? and how does it make it seem like less of a joke, i myself would assume that anyone who begins a sentance with 'jesus christ' is joking, simple as that. if ceasar010 finds it offensive then i will gladly remove it, but he hasn't claimed anger or sadness at my comment, i think you are just being argumentative.
Look, friend. Take a good, long look at your sentence.

It's not formulated as a joke. You know exactly how it's formulated: a cynical remark that usually isn't very funny for those who it's directed at.

If you wanted to make a joke, you'd have said something like Hey man, are you writing that blindfolded or something? 'Cause it really looks like it...

'Kay?

~Wiz

kataphraktoi

06-09-2004, 13:59

Quote[/b] ]Excellent work kataphraktoi . I propose a toast in your honor

cheers. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

Quote[/b] ]BTW, kataphraktoi, were you perhaps inspired by the 1998 novel Justinian by H.N. Turteltaub?

sorry man, not familiar with it... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/shogunshame.gif

The Wizard

06-09-2004, 14:02

Heh, never read it either, I just saw a reference to it on Wikipedia. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif

~Wiz

kataphraktoi

06-09-2004, 14:15

From now on Leo will become a regular...about time he mad ehis fair share of appearances....after all the story is Leo the Syrian. note to self Kat.

CHAPTER: Constantinople, greet your Emperor.

Unbelievable. He could not believe what he was hearing. An emissary had arrived from Artemianus’ rebel faction offering the crown to Justinian, who had never renounced the crownship of the Romans state. Artemianus was dead, defeated in a pitched battle near Iconium. And now, he was the only Emperor left. But to expect sudden victory in such circumstances were never precipitated. The emissaries carried with them something even more valuable than the news they relayed: the keys of Constantinople.

Reverently placed in Justinian’s hands was the city where the nerve of the capital. It was from Constantinople that he would reign once again after so long an exile. Bowing profusely, the emissaries left the Emperor’s presence and his encampment. For weeks, Justinian had settled his army outside of Constantinople deciding on a stratagem to regain his capital. Divine favour, it seems, was upon him.
It was a sight to remember, Justinian breathed deeply and exhaled with relief to remind himself that it was not a dream. Drawn by four white horses and golden chariot, the Emperor was led through the Golden Gate where victorious armies would march from campaign. It was, indeed, a long campaign for Justinian. Justinian savoured the cheering crowds who lined the roads to greet him showering him with garlands of flowers and laying their carpets for his chariot. To his subjects he appeared like someone from the dead, for indeed, he seemed like a new man. He was considerably older than the last time his subjects saw him. He was young then, but not now. The young vibrant young man who dazzled everyone with his imperial majesty and energy was now a wiser older man who dazzled everyone with his new appearance and demeanour. In what was characteristic of Justinian, he remained in full armour with the exception of a new cloak of purple draped upon his shining armour blinding those who caught the sun’s rays of his magnificent body. Justinian waved his hand like a conqueror and stood tall and proud.
So captivated were the populace of Constantinople that they even failed to notice the army that marched proudly behind the Emperor.

On the chariot with Justinian was his most trusted subject: Mercurius.
“My people, my subjects, my empire” uttered Justinian.
“Indeed your Majesty. We have been away for a long time. It is time for us to see what changes there have been” replied Mercurius.
“The Roman empire is in sad state, we have suffered many ills. There is much for an Emperor to do” moaned Justinian.
“If so, Emperor, then his loyal subjects will back him to the hilt.”
“Our soldiers are the lifeblood of the Empire, Mercurius. We must subject them to more wars again Mercurius”
“Now, now. Let us enjoy this moment, then let us concern ourselves later with matters of state. Leave it in my hands, you rule the empire, I will prepare the army”
“With you I am peace Mercurius. It will be nice to send for my wife and my son. He should be born by now, I cannot to see him. I have chosen a name for him. I will name him after my great grandfather Heraclius”
“A fine choice, your lordship. A good sign for the Roman state”
“Not only a good sign, a new era has dawned upon us”
“God deem it so”

Leo trailed behind the imperial chariot and was overawed and overhwlemed by the enormity of it all. Never had he been in such a fabled and celebrated city as the city of Constantine. Could he believe his eyes? Gold as common as the dirt under his feet, marble that polished in abundance on every corner. Even the sun seemed to bow to the discipline of the city’s skyline as gold cupolas and domes rose in insane numbers towering over the pitiful size of men. Now and then his eyes wandered and he had to recoup his concentration to prevent himself from riding into the excited throng that lined the never-ending streets. Time to time Leo would look at himself dazed. It seemed like a dream. But from his dream-like daze he would be awaken again as the crescendo and noise of the crowd woke again. Leo gazed at his comrades in the Kaballarika; like them, he too was dressed smartly and luxuriously for this occasion. Every single piece of armour seemed to glint in the sun, every fibre of his cloak diffuse lustrous shades and contrasts.

Here I am at last, a warrior. He thought. This is home.

kataphraktoi

06-09-2004, 14:23

snippet of next chapter:

Before he knew it, he arrived at the steps of the Imperial palace. The procession had ended. But the festivities were only beginning for the populace. Not, however, for the army, least of all the Emperor. Serious matters needed to be attended to. Dismounting from his horse, Leo stood to attention. Standing tall, standing straight, Leo held his lance and shield in perfect order. An order was given and suddenly the Kaballarika pivoted to form two parallel lines next to each other. At the movement of the Emperor, the Kaballarika regiment followed him closely in disciplined marching order. Not a step out of timing. Their armoured feet clattered and slapped the marble floor as their echoes resonated through the cavernous and spacious halls. Marching through these halls, one would have seen bales of silk hanging from soaring walls and pillars. Layers upon layers of marble from the floor to the roof formed a symphony of joints and sections married into a breathtaking spectacle. The feet of heavy armour soon stopped. Another pivot and the Kaballarika transformed themselves into two ranks of Klibanarii with their lances still held firm and erect. The Kaballarika met face to face with the other Kaballarika, the Artemianus Kaballarika Prima.

kataphraktoi

06-10-2004, 09:19

The next chapters are bridging chapters for the Saracen wars as the Roman army turns it attention eastward.

Mutasim comes back into play again.

CHAPTER: JUSTINIANI

Before he knew it, he arrived at the steps of the Imperial palace. The procession had ended. But the festivities were only beginning for the populace. Not, however, for the army, least of all the Emperor. Serious matters needed to be attended to. Dismounting from his horse, Leo stood to attention. Standing tall, standing straight, Leo held his lance and shield in perfect order. An order was given and suddenly the Kaballarika pivoted to form two parallel lines next to each other. At the movement of the Emperor, the Kaballarika regiment followed him closely in disciplined marching order. Not a step out of timing. Their armoured feet clattered and slapped the marble floor as their echoes resonated through the cavernous and spacious halls. Marching through these halls, one would have seen bales of silk hanging from soaring walls and pillars. Layers upon layers of marble from the floor to the roof formed a symphony of joints and sections married into a breathtaking spectacle. The feet of heavy armour soon stopped. Another pivot and the Kaballarika transformed themselves into two ranks of Klibanarii with their lances still held firm and erect. The Kaballarika met face to face with the other Kaballarika, the Artemianus Kaballarika Prima.

Justinian turned around to face the Klibanarii:
“See these men? They are unfit for imperial service. I know that some of are were part of this once proud unit of warriors. Now look Have mercy Saint Theodore They can’t even hold their shields up”

Justinian turned to face the Prima with fiery eyes:
“You….are….disbanded”
“Turn your weapons in and leave the imperial palace, you are fortunate to have their lives left”

The pitiful Kaballarika Prima dropped their equipment and slowly filed themselves out of the palace with downcast faces. Only a few glanced at the new Kaballarika Klibanarii replacing them.

Once they made their way out, Justinian turned his attention to his new elite guard. With outstretched arms and an expansive smile:

“Behold My new elite guard You will not be known as the Kaballarika Klibanarii. It is too crude. Instead, you will be known as the greatest of the elite regiments serving the crown. You will be the Justiniani.”

Walking to each and every soldier he put one hand on their shoulder and the other on their cheeks, a gesture that they were favoured of all the Roman soldiers. All other guard regiments were subsumed as ordinary soldiers with the exception of pay and duty. Only the Justiniani were left. 500 men in all

http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-2thumbsup.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-2thumbsup.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-2thumbsup.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-2thumbsup.gif

Copperhead

06-12-2004, 13:42

It's getting really good again. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/medievalcheers.gif when you going to get more up?

kataphraktoi

06-13-2004, 10:08

chapters from now on will seem rushed only cos I want to out the focus on Leo as soon as possible.

CONSTANTINOPLE AD 702

Fiddling with his lance and tapping it on the marble floor in tune to a rhythm, Leo sat idly for hours on end as a guardsman in the Imperial palace. He was distracted by what he heard were footsteps. He asked himself if the Emperor was making way across the Imperial palace and quickly stood up in place with lance firm and shield aloft. Putting on his most serious face Leo stood tall and erect as the footsteps came closer.

It was not the Emperor. Leo sighed and quickly fell into his previous position of sitting on the marble floor whittling the time away. Just a servant. But a nice looking one too…

Leo juggled in his mind to recall what her name was. He lost the battle already and resumed his distraction. A tap came upon his shoulder. Leo looked up slowly and unassuming at the person demanding his attention.

The Emperor.

In attempting to bolt to his feet, he tripped himself and fell flat and square against his face. A resounding thud invaded the quieter quarters of the palace.

Lifting his face from the floor, he saw the servant girl smile at his ill-fortune and return to her duties. As for Justinian, he laughed so loud, that the noise from Leo’s calamity was overshadowed.

“Young man, I have never seen anything more funnier than this. But come, all is forgiven, the young have no patience. I too know what it is like.”

Justinian extended his hand and pulled Leo up.

“Follow me” said Justinian

Leo followed the Emperor to the balcony overlooking the Golden Horn or the Bosporus in ancient speak. Justinian stretched his hand and prodded Leo with a gentle push.

“What do you see Leo?” inquired Justinian

“Huh”

“You have eyes otherwise you would be unfit for Imperial service”

“Umm, I see, uh, I see the Asian shore of the Bosporus”

“True, but false. Try again..”

Leo scratched his head and appeared dumbfounded by what the Emperor expected from his mouth.

“The future, Leo. What you see is the future

Over the horizon lies your birthplace of Germanicea, now it is a Saracen outpost. Will Anatolia become a Saracen appendage of the Saracen infidels?

I see promise in you. You are, unlike, most of the Justiniani, young. They are experienced soldiers, all of them good warriors, but ageing. Young blood must be infused.

For this reason you will no longer be a guardsmen in the Justiniani nor in the palace”

Leo appeared shocked. His jaw gaped at the Emperor.

Justinian placed one hand on Leo’s shoulder are looked directly into his eyes.

“How would you like to be an cavalry officer with men under your command? Mercurius recommended that you be the first of many Roman soldiers to be groomed for future leadership positions in the army. We are reforming our army; it is disjointed, demoralized and dispirited.”

“Me, a commanding officer?” asked Leo

“Why not? Do you disagree?”

“No, no, Emperor. I accept, I did not expect such a change…”

“These are extraordinary times, young man, seize the chances offered. Rome will rise again.”

THE MESSAGE, NICAEA, AD 703

Dust clouds spiraled slywards against the deep blue Anatolian sky as a lone rider cuts across the wide open plains beneath the lofty Pontic mountain range. The rider looked behind him now and then to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Sweat poured down his beaten and exhausted body as he struggled to wipe their salty entrails from his eyes. With his right hand he felt for his thigh upon which was strapped a baggage of vital importance.

Entering into a valley, he careened left behind a forest screen and winded his way past the gentle streams that flowed from the mountains. Satisfied of his invisibility, the rider dismounted and gulped a few handfuls of water before resuming.

Finally, the rider arrived at the headquarters of the Roman army. Emperor Justinian was waiting in his war tent to receive the latest dispatches from his scouts.
“Emperor I have important news, it must be read now”
“Go ahead Leontius” said Justinian
“I have news that the Northern Saracen army is marching against Heraclea Pontica, their forces are pressed against the coast. I also have reports that the Southern Saracen army at Amorium is joining with the main Saracen army encamped in Ancrya. Sir, we are being surrounded. The Saracen Amir seeks to pincer us in a tight cordon.”
“Leave the interpretation of intelligience to me; it is for me and my generals to assess. Find out what more you can. Go. Have a rest, eat something before you leave”
“Thank you Emperor”

The rider abruptly left the War tent.

Facing all his generals, Justinian stared at them with piercing eyes that seemed to bore into their souls.

“We face this magnanimous task. Despite the best of our efforts to reform the Roman army in a year, I fear that numbers will ultimately exhaust our manpower and resources. My relatives and ministers in the capital are raising as much capital as they can to sustain our efforts to cast the invaders out. We turn must provide the best returns from our meager investment.

The archivist Eutropius has prepared a detailed map of Anatolia for us. Look before you officers. What you see is our homeland under the Saracen thumb. But what you see is the key to their destruction. Heraclea Pontica is but a step to Nicaea, if Nicaea falls, then Asia is lost. Our greatest source of manpower is gone. Who will fight our battles?

You heard Leontius. The Northern army is pressed against the coast? Why? I believe they are afraid of being ambushed in the Bithynian mountains. Do you what that says? It says they still fear us. After all their successes, they still fear us

We must use that fear to our advantage to stop all three Saracen armies. Let this be our finest epitaph in the history of war. The Southern and Main armies will meet at remain in Ancrya in preparation for the advance against Nicaea. We can only meet one army at a time, cut them, divide them and conquer.”

Mercurius stepped forward and pointed to the map:

“I understand our predicament. We have a good army; our men will fight to the death. But good warriors can only do so much. It is thus that we do what we must in a proper manner. Heraclea Pontica is heavily fortified, if our naval forces can supply Heraclea indefinitely, we need not worry about relieving the city and attacking the army till we are ready”

Another general stepped forward, this time it was Constantine Argyrus, Strategos of the already occupied Cilician theme.

“So you are proposing we take out the Southern and Main armies first seeing as they are the greatest danger to us?”

“Correct” replied Mercurius

Justinian followed the conversation and stepped in:

“That is more of what I was thinking too. Our army is completely mounted; we can reach the Main army before the Southern army is able to march to Ancyra. If so, we must make haste.

However, there is one small matter.

We need to leave a strong garrison behind us in Nicaea just in case Heraclea falls. I believe it must require 6000 of our best men, a considerable liability on our disposable forces”

“True” replied Mercurius as he pressed his point on the map:

“But that means we will reach our goals faster and more efficiently. Our numbers are smaller, but our professionalism, discipline and zeal cannot be questioned, it will more than make up for numbers. It is in them we must trust. We have nothing else”

All the generals nodded.

Justinian stared for a moment at the table then gazed around the War tent:

“Fine, we make our dispositions tomorrow. Time is valuable.”

kataphraktoi

06-13-2004, 10:10

NEAR ANCYRA, AMBUSH AD 703

A large Saracen army marched it way through the large defiles that lead to Ancyra. The Southern Saracen army had marched from the south after subduing the main cities in the Lycian region or more correctly, the Cibbyraeot theme. Roman ability to produce ships and sailors has been severely hamstrung by the devastation wrought by the Saracens.

One particular Saracen soldier was uneasy about marching through defiles. He heard stories of past armies meeting their end by a surprise ambush in these treacherous Anatolian heights. Moreover, it was still enemy territory. Abu looked to the heights overshadowing his part of the army like menacing vultures encircling for the easy prey. The more he looked, the more nervous he became.

With an eager ear he heard what sounded like a small pebble dropping. Abu immediately halted. The soldier behind him collided into him cursing and berating him for his stupidity to disrupt the marching order. The soldier marched past him with a dirty look. Standing to one side, Abu scouted intently. He heard another stone drop.

Plok, plok, plok…

He spun around and saw nothing that suggested what he feared most.

With difficultly did he convince himself that it was nothing. He resumed his march.

A tumultuous rumble invaded his view as it came before him. Soldiers marching a few ranks ahead were crushed by enormous boulders with the survivors finished of with arrows. Abu looked up to see his fears manifest. Before he could raise his shield and run for cover, a large boulder came upon him.

The Roman general Bardas gave the signal and a trumpet was blown. From both ends of the defile poured the Thematic Kaballeroi as they made their way to surround the Southern army. Another tumult and more Saracen soldiers were crushed to death.

After a few arrows were fired by the Kaballeroi, the Romans retreated and disappeared in cracks and gaps in the defiles. The Southern Saracen army was left with whatever survived in the ambush. Most Saracens were shellshocked and stood where they remained. So close to death, they reflected. The effect was total, paralysed and unable to respond, the Saracens did not move from their position for hours. The Saracen army coalesced into a multiple sides spear wall looking with trepidation and fear of another deadly cavalcade of boulders.

Plok, plok, plok.

A stream of pebbles slid down the face of a mountain wall.

All Saracen eyes looked in the direction and saw nothing but a bird rebuilding it nest on the overhanging cliffs.

Plok, plok, plok.

Another bird?

This time it wasn’t a bird, it was a huge avalanche of boulders screaming down the other mountain wall. Flesh and stone mingled freely as the unstoppable wave of boulders devastasted the rear-guard of the Saracen army. Losing their nerves, the Southern Saracen army dispersed in all directions.

Bardas observed all this from a camouflaged position looking down upon the defile. With a wry smile on his face, he commented to one of his junior officers that the Southern Saracen army was only a few hour’s march from Anycra. So close, yet so far. With that Bardas clapped his hands and turned his back on the unholy destruction.

HERACLEA PONTICA, AD 703

Catapults lobbed their load over and at the walls of the port city of Heraclea Pontica. In a dogged siege of five weeks, there has been no break through, only a stalemate. Enjoying unhindered naval access to the sea, soldiers and supplies flowed freely into the city. The vast mass of the Saracen army had encamped and surrounded city with palisades and an outer wall to keep any relieving Roman forces out.

Leo and his regiment of cavalry force of 2000 lied hidden in the hills overlooking the Saracen encampment. At the onset of darkness did his men make their dispositions. Sent to the field after only a few months training in Constantinople as an officer, Leo quickly adapted to the pace and complexity of commanding men under him. The leadership had sent him on a dangerous task to harass the large Northern Saracen army that laid siege to Heraclea Pontica. The task was, however, not to confront the army on the battlefield, that would have been suicidal, instead, it was to cause as much casualties and demoralization in the army as possible. With his cavalry regiment he carried a terrifying weapon that the Saracens had known but had not gotten use to: Greek Fire.

An ingenius invention, contemplated Leo. He had heard of the stories about Greek Fire, a fiery and unstable concoction that exploded in water. It was also the weapon that sent the Saracens in retreat after their first attempt to capture the capital. It was now in his hands. The very thought made him shudder at such a dangerous weapon but at the same time curious as to its potential use.

With a group of junior officers, he made his plans known to them:

“We have no catapaults, we have only our arrows. I suggest we dip our arrows in this concoction and set fire their wooden palisades, if possible..” paused Leo “fire some into their encampments”

A junior officer, Michael, offered a daring plan.

“Lets assassinate the Saracen general by infiltrating their camp?”

“Easier said than done” replied another officer

“How do we get in anyway” intervened another one

Michael countered:

“We need only a few men to do the job, when the Saracen general takes a bath….in water”

A slow smile arched across the young officer’s face. His satisfaction grew as the other officers realized his treacherous scheme.

Leo gave Michael a curious gaze:

“You suggest we kill the leadership and behead the leader of the army in one small operation?”

Michael grinned again, this time more widely.

A select company of 4 men were chosen to infiltrate the Saracen camp. Leo, Michael and two experienced cavalrymen made their way in total darkness to the Saracen camp. By strict orders, the rest of the Leo’s men were to keep silent and rest. It was dangerous and reckless by Leo’s own reckoning. On the other hand, curiosity seized his young inexperienced mind that he could not resist. However, the gains outweighed the losses.

Just in case, they dressed themselves as passable Saracens uttering sparingly a few Arabic words to get by. Observing from a hidden position an unguarded section of the wall, they slowly climbed over the palisade in the shadow created by the moon. Pausing to take in their surroundings, they crept through the crowded avenues of Saracen tents. All the Saracen tents were flimsy. Good for the desert, poor for the Pontican cold nights. After crawling in silence for an hour or so, they came across what seemed to be the general’s tent. Its tall plumed pinnacle standing tall magnificently erect in the night sky.

The four men hid themselves on the outskirts of the tent waiting for the moment that the Saracen general took a bath. On this night the general did not take a bath till much later. Fortunately so, any longer and the mission would have to be aborted at first light.

Leo pulled a slit of the tent up to spy on the general’s quarters. He saw a large bronze tub and a few female servants holding flasks of hot water. Leo could not resist the thought that the Saracen general would soon experience something much hotter than a warm bath.
Gesturing with his free hand, he summoned his men to have a look at the inside of the general’s tent.

The Saracen general walked through the entrance of his tent and slid into his marble chair summoning his servants to bring him a drink before he took a bath. A portly man by any standards he showed an insatiable thirst for women, after partaking of a cup of wine, he abandoned himself to his female servants. Leo and his men all the while were watching the general and his activities. Their impatience was showing, the last thing they want to see was the general cavorting with his servants. Leo’s anger simmered as he watched the Saracen treated his servants in a base manner to satisfy his orientations in sickly manner.

No matter, concluded Leo. He will burn in hell before being sent to burn again in hell. That thought emblazoned itself in his mind. The time had come. The disheveled servants dressed themselves with a disturbed look in their eyes of being treated in such a manner. The general slid into the bronze and laid his head as he took in his warm embrace of the hot water poured into the tub. The flow of the water paused. The flasks of water dropped to the floor. The general opened his eyes. Before him were not his female servants but four men. Before he could cry out for his guards, one of the men held a dagger to his throat. Wisely, the general restrained himself. Leo surveyed the tent and ordered one of his men to take the female servants out of the tent through a back entrance and to wait outside.

Leo tied the general’s hands to his back. Leo held a small container before the general’s nose who smelt it and realized what was in that container. The whites of his eyes widened. Michael dragged four tables to surround the bronze tub.

Four ropes were tied to the general’s neck and tied to four small containers attached to each rope and placed on the edge of the table. Each container had Greek Fire inside. If the general made one move it would tip all four containers into his bronze tub setting him ablaze. To make sure, the general did not ask for help after they left, he was muffled by a clothe stuffed into his mouth.

Before Leo left he whispered to the general in rough Arabic:

“Patience is a virtue, impatience will be the death of you” said Leo as he gently played with one of the ropes tied to a container of Greek Fire.

Using the darkness as their ally, the four men and the female servants sneaked out of the camp into the vast emptiness of the night leaving the general to his fate.

A Ghulam approached the general’s tent calling upon the general. No response. Instead he heard a faint mumble in the tent. He thought it was the general and his female servants. After a awhile he came back to the tent and called his general’s name. No response. The Ghulam scratched his head and wondered how long must the general be involved in his lovemaking. Daring to overcome his wits, the Ghulam marched into the tent and found that the general was in his bronze tied to a few containers. The general sweated as he wondered if his Ghulams knew how to extricate him from this situation. He need not have worried. The Ghulam’s entrance opened a flap of the tent to allow in a strong wind. A container on one of the tables started to tremble; the general’s eyes were wide in fear. The container fell of the table and its contents spilled into the bronze tub. Before the Ghulam’s eyes, a huge blaze erupted in the bronze tub as his general was scorched to death by the Greek Fire. However, before the Ghulam could escape from the blaze, the other containers caught fire and exploded.

From the distance of hills, Leo’s cavalry regiment watched in amazement as a bright ball of flame erupted in the Saracen encampment.

The next day, the Saracen army was in disarray. With difficulty did the remaining Saracen leadership contain the blaze and prevent the encampment from turning into chaos. By evening, the Northern Saracen army melted away as they lifted the siege and fled southwards towards Ancyra where the main Saracen army was based under the leadership of Mutasim.

discovery1

06-14-2004, 05:51

BRAVO love the covert ops http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ceasaryes.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ceasaryes.gif

kataphraktoi

06-15-2004, 07:25

Short chapters leading to the Battle of Ancyea

PONTICA HERACLEA, AD 703

Leo walked along the beach barefooted letting the water brush against his feet. It was a relieving feeling after spending weeks in the mountainous terrain. The siege of Heraclea Pontica was short-lived when the Saracens abandoned camp leaving their numerous stores of food, weapons, equipment and other valuable quantities of treasure. Not surprisingly this was seized by Leo’s men before any self-entreprising individual could siphon this invaluable prize. As a small reward on his part, he acquired from the Saracen general’s tent a long saber with a handle made of Lazuli and gold. Etched on both sides were gold letters of what looked like Arabic. It was a fine acquisition that Leo never once left anywhere without.

News had reached him that Emperor Justinian has fired missives from Nicaea throughout Asia Minor occupied by the Saracens and the remaining Roman territories rallying the dispersed Roman soldiers and volunteers. Justinian and his Domestic Mercurius were still reforming the Roman army into a competent and professional fighting force from their headquarters in Nicaea. Leo was to join the Imperial army when Justinian passed through the Bithynian region. Leo dug his hands into his pockets are looked the sky above. He could feel the enormity of the conflict overshadowing him.

ANCYRA, AD 703

Sinewy fingers made their way across the tall fortifications looking across the Ancyran valley below. Mutasim leaned on his elbow are stared at the wide expanse below him. He wished it could be this way forever. Days upon end he come up the highest point of the fortification and dream of a time and place where he would no longer have to fight any battles or wars. In his mind he envisions a tall red palace with an unswept courtyard filled with the fall of autumn leaves rustling across the red marble court. In the middle would be a fountain gently gushing water. High walls would ring the palace situated in the countryside that he sees before him. Perhaps one day he will receive some estates in Anatolia.

Mutasim walked away from the fortifications into his quarters. Everyday dispatches were received in Ancrya, he wonders what is happening on the frontier.

NICAEA, AD 703

Mercurius and Justinian stood on the edge of an overhanging ledge overlooking the flat plains outside of Nicaea. They looked below at their army. It was the Roman army, restored and rebirthed at a critical time in the history of their state. Lines upon lines of spears formed a carpet against the dull yellow landscape. Justinian’s appeal for volunteers and dispersed soldiers sparked a tremor in the whole of Asia Minor. Despite the Saracen efforts to control roads and passes to Nicaea, many still found their way to Nicaea swelling the previously woeful small numbers of the Roman army.

Both men knew that the time to march was at hand. They had worked hard to restore the morale of the army and this was the true test before them. Justinian for his part had repaired the structure of the government in places where the Saracens and Bulgars had ravaged Roman territory. Mercurius for his part rebuilt the command structure and organisation of the army as the Saracens steadily swallowed more Roman territory.

Mercurius and Justinian returned to their horses, the army was ready. They were ready to march to Ancyra

kataphraktoi

06-15-2004, 15:10

Kats rough sketchies

Leo as a cavalry officer (http://www.geocities.com/weirdguynextdoor/Leophraktoi.jpg)

Here Leo is Kataphraktoi panoply/gear

pardon the crudity of the drawing...

Mutasim (http://www.geocities.com/weirdguynextdoor/poormutasim.jpg)

Fairly obvious who loses..sniff sniff sniff http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/frown.gif

http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ceasaryes.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ceasarno.gif

The Wizard

06-15-2004, 16:59

Crudity ...? Your 'crudity' makes my 'perfection' look like a five-year-old's sketch http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif

~Wiz

kataphraktoi

06-15-2004, 17:18

Kat likes lead.

Ka6 likes to draw.

Kat likes to waste time with pics than writing.

Kat needs to go back to writing story.

Kat is male.

Make no mistake.

ah_dut

06-15-2004, 17:22

Amazing sketch http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

frogbeastegg

06-15-2004, 17:27

The pics don't work, I keep getting a Geocities 'this page is unavailable' error. Darn, I liked your last pics so much I still have copies of them on my hard drive to look at from time to time. Anyone want to help a frog see the new ones?

Ludens

06-15-2004, 17:33

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 15 2004,18:27)]The pics don't work, I keep getting a Geocities 'this page is unavailable' error. Darn, I liked your last pics so much I still have copies of them on my hard drive to look at from time to time. Anyone want to help a frog see the new ones?
Just like the last time this happened: use 'save target as' and you can see them.

frogbeastegg

06-15-2004, 17:37

Thanks, Ludens, that worked.

Great work, kataphraktoi http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ceasaryes.gif The second is my favourite; but I'll add them both to my collection.

kataphraktoi

06-16-2004, 06:48

THE MARCH TO ANCYRA

Heraclea Pontica was abuzz with news of the Emperor’s visit to the city, the streets were lined with flowers and fine linen as the citizens tried their best to clean the city fit for the Emperor’s visit. Leo for his part calmly stood still in the middle of a small stone building in preparation for the Emperor’s visit. His 2000 or so cavalrymen did likewise in their quarters dressed in their finest. Clean uniforms were the order of the day as Leo stringently enforced this command. The servants lent to him by a prominent member of the city’s council assisted him in putting his armour on. Since he was not part of the Justiniani anymore, he was in a different uniform. While all his men wore the standard Themata Kaballeroi equipment consisting of a lamellar cuirass, iron helmet and a cloak, Leo wore that befitting of a commander. He wore that of a Kataphraktoi’s equipment. Leo warmed to the new uniform because it was much lighter than a Klibanarii’s panoply. Unfortunately, it did not mean it was light in weight. To add polish to his fine military garb, a cloak was wrapped across his shoulders. Pearls and gems lined the hems of the cloak. Finally, he took his helmet and tucked it in his hands.

When he stepped out of the building his men were lined up with their horses with all their equipment before him. His officers personally inspected every cavalryman’s equipment and appearance. Not one stone was unturned. Every small detail was scrutinized. They were many who groaned at the pedantic and stringent order of their commander who was only a few years younger than them. But they respected him; each soldier knew that their commander valued their lives just like he valued his. Besides, he was generous. Not one of Leo’s men would go home without being wealthy thanks to his insistence on distributing the Saracen plunder equally between all soldiers.

The inspection occupied a large part of the morning but when it was completed all of them sighed relief as they marched into a large forum in Heraclea Pontica. The guards on the walls of the city signaled that the Roman party was approaching. The gates were swiftly opened. The small party of horsemen rode through the gates towards the forum. It was the Emperor and his Pharganoi.

Leo approached the Emperor; his right hand balled into a fist and slapped it to his left breast before kneeling. Justinian dismounted and stood before Leo. Leo slowly rose after making obeisance.

“All my men are ready your Majesty” said Leo
“And what fine Romans they are” exclaimed Justinian
“Your words are too kind”
“And they are true words young Leo, I know that I can trust you with much larger units than 2000 men. But I wanted to see how you could handle yourself. I wanted you to harass the Northern Saracen army, but instead you drove them away”
“My men are more responsible than I was” replied Leo
“A great leader has great men under him” said Justinian

Protocol was observed. Justinian received the homages of Heraclea Pontica before leaving with Leo’s cavalry.

When Leo arrived with the Emperor to where the main army was based, he could not believe his eyes. He had not seen the Roman army at its largest. He thought the army fighting the Bulgars was large enough already. Leo rode past the long serried lines of warriors who raised their weapons above the Emperor to create an arcade of steel weapons and myriads of shields decorated with crosses. One thing noticed to his surprised was that the whole army was mounted The whole Roman army was a cavalry army. No expense it seemed was spared.

Justinian worked his way to the front of the army until the whole army was behind him. The Roman army marched as one through the wide passes cutting through the Bithynian mountains.

ANCYRA AD 703

Scouts darted back and forth every few hours or so, the Saracens in Ancyra were on edge. In two small encounters, the Saracens were stung by defeat, an unknown experience for a long time in a decade. Mutasim decided to imitate the Roman stratagem and lure them into a trap. Once and for all the Romans would be annihilated.

As observed before from the high point of Anycra’s fortification, there was a wide rolling plain below. He intended to draw the Romans onto this field. If the Romans decided to engage battle, covert Saracen regiments would stealthily march behind them and hold the passes and roads while the real battle would be fought on the plains. Mutasim was dressed in a white tunic; he expected to be a martyr someday in battle and prepared for it as such. On a brilliant white stallion, Mutasim mounted his charger and surveyed the Ancyran plains for additional features that would assist him in victory.

Mutasim reflected on the poor state of his army. How could morale suddenly plummet? The Saracen army was still large; its warriors were properly equipped and well fed. Every day, handfuls of Ghazi warriors would enlist in their ranks as fanatical warriors dedicated to the cause of Islam. Something would have to be done, thought Mutasim, and quickly.

kataphraktoi

06-16-2004, 07:22

Quote[/b] ]Great work, kataphraktoi The second is my favourite; but I'll add them both to my collection.

ur too kind lady frog. I feel like exploding...in blushness

kataphraktoi

06-16-2004, 12:01

BATTLE OF ANCYRA, AD 704 PT 1

A Bulgar scout hauled in two heads as he walked through the Imperial tent where Justinian and his generals conceived their strategic moves against Anycra. The Bulgar was a mercenary employed after the defeat of the Khan Tervelis, there were Bulgars who knew where their next fortunes would come from.
“Enemy near us Emperor. Enemy hidden in forest close by.” Said the Bulgar in broken Greek
“That will be fine Bulgar” replied Leo.
The Bulgar dropped his load of severed heads then left the tent to the surprised of the generals in the tent.
“It is clear that they plan to ambush us. No doubt, they are trying to imitate our stratagem. I think we should make them think they have us in their trap”
The generals in the tent were astounded by the Emperor’s admission to fall into the Saracen trap.

Mutasim and his army were arrayed in battle formation on the sprawling flat plain underneath Ancyra.
“It has been a few days into the New Year, perhaps the New Year would yield better fortunes” reflected Mutasim as stroked his beard, a habit he cultivated during the war.
At the far end of the plain he made out what seemed to the Romans. If dust had spiraled from the ground, he would have no doubt, but it was not that kind of weather today. For a few weeks the snow had begun to settle lightly on the ground and now a sprinkle of rain lightly drizzled to the ground. Only when a messenger signaled with a flag that he understood the Romans had arrived.

Mutasim smiled as he thought of the Romans falling into his trap and of finally extinguishing any effective Roman army. He had dealt with Artemianus already, he even had his head embalmed and given to the Caliph as a present. He will do the same to Justinian.

As always Justinian was conspicuous in his golden armour leading from the front. The Saracens did not know how large the Roman army was but the Romans knew their true size. The Roman army that marched its way down the plain was smaller than that which marched from Nicaea. By now the rain had started from a drizzle to a greater density along with the snow. Visibility was still clear, an advantage for both armies.

The Emperor, the Pharganoi and his Justiniani lined up in the center. For the Pharganoi it would be first time in battle that they’ve rode on horseback. With difficulty did they yield their two handed Rhompaia blades, but after practice they’ve learnt to control it at the expense of a shield.

On both sides of the center were the heavy Skutatoi infantry converted from Thematic Kabellaroi who dismounted. Their lances were arrayed dangerously in a wave like fashion. Behind the center and the frontline was the second line of Roman soldiers who dismounted as well, they consisted of lightly armoured lancers who reinforced line. Horse archers formed a third line and stayed on horseback.

The right of the Roman army consisted of Kataphraktoi cavalry, a veritable steel carpet that formed a strong flanking wall. The left flank was under the command of Leo. His 2000 cavalry strong regiment allowed him the distinction of the title “Moira”. His troops were considerably not as strong as the Kataphraktoi and hence placed on the left flank to allow the Kataphraktoi to deliver the strongest charge. Behind the whole Roman army was a reserve of Akriti cavalry who were essentially light cavalry distinct by the dyed manes of their horses.

Mutasim simply waved his hand.

Saracen musicians beat their drums that reverberated in all Saracen ears. A wall of steel was presented in the Saracen frontline. These consisted of the Caliphate’s finest Askari infantrymen. Unlike the Amir’s own Ghulams, the Askari were much more disciplined and heavily armoured. Recruited from Central Asia and other fierce Asiatic tribes, they were fiercely loyal to the Caliph and with reluctance were sent to Mutasim’s command.

Behind the Askari was the standard fare of the Saracen army. They were simply large numbers of Saracens with a spear and a large shield mixed in with foot archers in abundance. The flanks of the Saracen were refused with cavalry; overwhelming numbers of them were Ghazi warriors eager and impetuous for battle. Mutasim situated himself behind the army surrounded by his Ghulam infantrymen.

As the drums grew louder and loud the Saracen army marched in step to the beat as they made their way to the center of the plain. A thunder roared in the background and complimented the drums beating away. The Roman army likewise took the lead of the Saracens but marched slowly and not too far from the mountains behind them.

Leo’s heart was temporarily overwhelmed by the large Saracen host before him. As he fought longer and longer in this war, he realized how huge the conflict was and the numbers involved. He quickly recovered from his fears and led his men in tandem with the rest of the army. Leo unsheathed his saber which still shone in the cloudy conditions above. The deep lazuli blue shimmered briefly as a speck of light penetrated through the thick grey.

The Saracen line slowly shifted it’s shape. It now formed a crescent with its extreme points protruding forward as if ready to devour the smaller Roman army. Justinian watched impassively. His Pharganoi likewise. Slowly, slowly, the Saracens proceeded closer to the Romans. Justinian turned to the Pharganos on his right who carried the Army standard. The Pharganos reversed the standards. The Romans turned their backs on the incredulous Saracens who were stunned in their place. As if teasing and luring them, the Romans taunted them to attack. Mutasim shifted nervously and loosened the clothe around his neck.

“What could the Romans be up to?” he asked his generals beside him.

They could not provide an answer.

Justinian paused and reined his horse around. The whole army followed his lead and stayed in their formation waiting for the Saracens to respond. From the rear of the army, an Alan scout pushed his way towards the front of the army where Justinian was.
Speaking no Greek, the Alan handed Justinian a note upon which was written a message.

Through the slit of his gilded armour, Justinian read the news he’d been waiting for. It was the news he wanted. He now turned his full attention to the Saracen army before him.

Leo watched through the gaps to see the Emperor. He saw Justinian congratulating his high ranking officers fighting in the Justiniani regiment. Obviously, some kind of Roman stratagem had taken place before this battle. As he surveyed his surroundings he came to understand why the army was pinned to the mountainside behind them. Despite the Saracen numeral advantage, they could not overwhelm and outflank them because the mountains shield their extreme flanks. It would come down to a grinding battle up close between the Saracen armies. It was a situation the heavily armoured Roman was looking forward to.

Mutasim huffed as he realized how strong the Roman position was. He hesitated to order the attack. But he hesitated not to do anything. It would crush the last vestiges of morale and confidence the Saracen if a superior army retreated in the face of a smaller army. Reluctantly, Mutasim ordered the advance to begin. Drums resumed again.

Heavy steps drove into the snow and rain muddled plain. Like a slow leviathan, the Saracens descended like a dragon devouring a small prey. The small prey, however, was going to be difficult to digest.

Frontline Askari warriors muttered beneath their breath as they drew their spears forward against the Roman line. If the weather was kind, they would usually use their bows to fire a barrage of arrows before engaging in bloody hand to hand combat. There was much to distinguish them from all other Saracen troops. Their helmets were tall and plumed with peacock feathers; their mail armour was hidden beneath a knee long white leather jacket. In the snow and rain, the finery of their garb was soured by foul weather. Red splashes soon mingled with the white leather. A Rhompaia made sure of that. The first Askari fell to the strike of a Pharganos warrior. His head flew a few ranks behind the main line.

Pharganoi (http://www.geocities.com/weirdguynextdoor/Pharganoi.jpg)

Skutatoi (http://www.geocities.com/weirdguynextdoor/Skutatoi.jpg)

I'm such a little boy...

The Blind King of Bohemia

06-16-2004, 14:07

Nice pics there mate. If you like military-style drawing get any osprey work with a fella called Angus Mcbride doing the colour plates. You'll love 'em geezer, trust me http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif

ah_dut

06-16-2004, 17:46

very good keep it up http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/medievalcheers.gif

kataphraktoi

06-16-2004, 18:58

Angus Mcbride is a champ, i love his stuff, I don't know how he makes the simplest drawings into great pieces of artwork...me is soooo jealous.

kataphraktoi

06-16-2004, 19:13

A few notes

Pharganoi is a hypothetical coonstruction. Not much is known about them, their appearance is a composite theoretical guess from the scanty evidence and supposition available from exxcavations and writings.

The face mask is a feature appearing in steppe warriors, in fact, a face mask was found in an excavation of a Byzantine palace. The lamellar aventail is a glean of Central Asian designs. The mail hood is purely an artistic license. Since some elite troops have been outfitted with one, I thought I'd add it in. The lamellar cuirass is based on the suppositon that elite warriors were supplied by the state. Lamellar armour covereing the upper leg is again an artistic license. The Rhompaia in his hand is based on scanty evidance in Byzantine writings, it has been described as a blade of particular shape given to Byzantine guardsmen. It has been guessed to resemble a poll-staff falx. Pharganoi are not known to carry a bow and quiver, but seeing as they are from the steppe, its an assumption that they have knowledge and use of it. The axe is purely imaginative. The bowcase is of the Avar kind. It is not known if the Najakh axe was used by the Pharganoi. One can only guess that this guy took it without saying please to the Saracen.

Skutatoi in this period is shady due to lack of fuller detail. So, it is construction based on license and small evidence.

These guys are frontline SKutatoi wearing substantial armour. Differences in style testify to the local and regional fashion of the theme they were raised from. The last figure wears a Phrygian helmet. The others wear Central Asian looking helmets with mail aventails. A weak link exists for depicting Byzantines with asian looking helmets. Near Byzantine controlled territroy there have been discoveries in the Kuban region where such armour has been excavated.

The Byzantine-ness is evident however. The lamellar cuirass and the splint armour shows this.

Ok, enuff of my babble...

kataphraktoi

06-17-2004, 06:31

BATTLE OF ANCYRA, AD 704 PT2

Justinian and his centre line initiated the first charge into the Askari. It was a dangerous move seeing as the Askari had presented a wall of spears. Even more dangerous, however, was the ploy which Justinian used to blind the Askaris from using their spear wall to great effect. The Pharganoi on the forefront of the conflict had each carried a small pot of Greek Fire which they threw at the approaching Askari. Blinded and burnt by the Greek fire, the Roman centre charged furiously into the thick of the Askari line. Taking precaution, the Romans only used small amounts, enough to cause disarray but not to risk harm to themselves. Wielding their two handed Rhompaia menacingly above their heads while controlling their horses with their knees, as taught on the steppes, the Pharganoi brought it down to bear on the Askaris. Despite being heavily armoured, the force of an incoming Rhompaia pierced through their armour splitting their heads open.
A gap through the Askari line widened, the Roman second line pushed forward increasing this gap further. All along the frontlines of both armies, the lines were finally engaged. Except in the center, the Askari had the better of the hand to hand combat ruthlessly tearing apart the makeshift heavy infantry.

Mutasim saw the carnage created in the center of his army and commanded the second line of his army to plug the gap. Masses of rain-soaked Saracens rushed to the gap to halt the Roman centre’s progress. Emperor Justinian was nearly felled off his horse by the charge of the second Saracen line. He hacked furiously at all incoming Saracens oblivious to the snow melting against blood and metal. His Pharganoi dismounted from their horses, the momentum of their charge was useless in a packed situation as was their Rhompaia blades. Planting their feet on the snow covered earth; they quickly formed a wall of bristling Rhompi and pushed deeper into the Saracen army. Using a downward swing motion, they brought to bear the deadly edge of the blade against the pitiful shield and weapons of the Saracen second line. Justinian was still mounted, with his Justiniani closeby forming a strong circle around him; he paused to assess the bigger picture of the combat. His center was getting pulled from the cohesion of the Roman army, his heavy infantry however was having a torrid time against the Askaris. If he did not preserve his cohesion, his Pharganoi risked being surrounded and cut off from any support from friendly Roman troops. He had no choice but to engage his second line to hold at bay the Askari. The order was given, the Roman second line charged into the thick of the fighting. Horse archers were ordered to dismount and form a third line. The buffer of his second line eased the situation as the Roman line slowly shifted into a manageable formation. His Pharganoi however were still drifting deeper.

Spurring his armoured charger and the Justiniani on, he opened a pathway to his Pharganoi pushing hapless Saracens to the left and the right as he plowed effortlessly in thick of the fighting. Reaching with his gauntlet towards the closest Pharganos, he commanded them to pull back and preserve the Roman cohesion. The order drifted to the rest of the Pharganoi who responded quickly. They moved backwards as they continued fighting. Mutasim thought he had the Roman centre contained at last. He could see the Roman centre being pushed and exhorted his soldier to even greater efforts. The Saracens themselves thought they were finally gaining the upper hand over the Roman centre too and confidently surged forward. The rain and snow seemed to be stopping; it was a good omen for the Saracens.

katank

06-18-2004, 15:32

do askari have a historical basis?

are they equipped with swords in addition to spears?

naptha throwing mounted polearms.

hmmmm, interesting unit.

I think I'll have to mod that in as a high tech Byz cav unit or something. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

kataphraktoi

06-20-2004, 08:41

I got the ideas for Askaris from an Osprey book about Crusaders.
The Caliphate had an elite of soldiers, the Askaris are just one of many. Since this is an alternate history, I saw no harm in throwing them in using historical license, but I have my limits. I forbid laser weapons.

Naptha polearms eh?

They're not meant to be Naptha pollies, they were armed specifically for that battle, it would be crazy for it to be a regular weapon. Imagine the casulaties if u slip and fall and happened to fall into a river stream...

kataphraktoi

06-23-2004, 15:58

BATTLE OF ANYCRA, AD 704 PT3
Behind the mountainous curtain shielding the fighting between the main armies of the Romans and the Saracens was Mercurius and the other remnant of the army. Their duty was to repel any Saracen flanking movement against the Roman rear. Mercurius had ordered small companies of Psiloi to ensconce themselves on high mountain peaks and to shoot at any Saracen with arrows dipped in Greek Fire. It was however impossible in the rain. Only when the rain died down did the dangerous canisters open to allow arrows head wrapped with cotton to be absorbed. Large contingents of infantry were placed in strategic passes, even if they were outnumbered, their defensive position would compensate for numbers alone. All his force was dismounted; horses were no use in this kind of terrain. Too risky, too dangerous. Faintly, Mercurius could hear the distant battle rage. It made him twitch. He was the commander of the Justiniani but also the Grand Domestic. He had his orders, but he preferred to be fighting side by side with the Emperor. Whispering under his breath was a quick prayer.

No sign of the Saracens so far. Mercurius wondered if indeed there was a flanking attack at all. His doubts were quickly dispersed when a band of Psiloi signaled with a lit flame approaching enemy forces. Using a series of codes, the enemy numbers were ascertained and from which direction were they coming. The entrenched Psiloi opened the assault pouring down their missiles in any form; Greek Fire, arrows, stones, etc.

The infantry at the passes soon saw the enemy in sight and packed themselves tightly for what they expected to grinding close encounter. The Saracens on the flank were mainly foot archers with a retinue of Ghulams serving as officers. They responded to the infantry at the passes but not the Psiloi who were too high to be reached with their arrows. Roman shields interlocked, no joints or gaps could be found except where their spears jutted out in deadly array. As large as their numbers were, they dared not charge into the infantry while the Psiloi dangerously hovered with Greek Fire which started to hail upon the Saracen columns. Saracens fell to many a missile from above but still the Saracens would not yield. It was like shooting into an ocean.

There was another signal. Mercurius spotted the flame coming from the other half of his army not engaged on one flank. The Saracens had another flanking army weaving its way through the mountains. His face became perplexed and sour. This was not just a flanking army. The flanking army consisted of a large number of Ghulam infantry; his infantry would not stand a chance. The Roman rearguards faced their greatest test against the distinguished core of the Saracen army; most of their elite warriors were fighting for their lives in mortal combat on the other side of the mountain screen with the Emperor Justinian. Mercurius entrusted the already engaged flank to his trusted second in command, Vartanus the Iberian and led his select warriors to where the Ghulam were expected to engage the Roman soldiers guarding the other mountain passes.

By the time he reached the guarded passes, the Ghulams had already engaged in combat. A part of the Ghulam contingent stayed behind firing arrows to occupy the Romans putting their shields up while another contingent of Ghulams charged into the thick of the Romans lines. With a loud war-cry bellowing in an echo off the mountain walls they crashed through the phalanx of shields and spears. Some were impaled where they charged while others made headway with their short axes. The Ghulams who fired arrows now joined the charge adding momentum and power to the first charge. Mercurius immediately spurred his horse and charged into the close combat with his men. Spears smashed into brittle shards against the unrelenting pressure of the Ghulams. Fighting his way through the thick body of men around him he managed to find his way to the forefront of the fighting. Catching his men by surprise, Mercurius’ own ferocity matched that of the Ghulams. Discarding his lance early, Mercurius resorted to the flanged spiked mace which was more effective on the armoured Ghulams than anything else. It wasn’t long before his mace tasted blood. Like smashing a watermelon, blood sprayed and curled with every strike of the mace. One Roman soldier was pinned to the ground while a Ghulam stood above him ready to deal the death blow when his commander dispatched the Ghulam. To Mercurius’ surprise he did not expect the Ghulam’s head to fly off his shoulders. A red volley flew across the lines and landed in front of a Ghulam who simply brushed off the severed head and continued to charge forward into the fighting.

Risking himself in the frontline, Mercurius did not see the wave of arrows flying past his head. Pausing in shock at the close proximity of the arrows, he was rudely awakened by a Ghulam axe making its way towards him. With a quick parry, Mercurius deflected the Ghulam’s blow which landed on the horse’s armour causing no damage. Freeing his leg from the saddle, Mercurius kicked the Ghulam in the face. The force of the kick was so powerful it broke the Ghulam’s nose who had to drop his axe to cover his nose. Immediately, the flanged mace worked its way into the Ghulam’s skull. Mercurius dismounted himself from his horse, the battle had come to a standstill, his horse was no use in such close quarters. His select bodyguards now caught up with Mercurius in the frontline and formed a steel vise around him. They settled to the task of holding the passes. It took only one pass to fall before the Roman rear was destroyed. The line that held the difference between victory and defeat was thin, for the Romans it was nearly stretched to breaking point.

kataphraktoi

06-23-2004, 15:59

BATTLE OF ANCYRA, AD 704, PT4

“Victory is far away from us. Let us ride towards us. We fight for three things: God, family and country.”

Leo stirred his men as they held their lances forward; the Ghazi cavalry on their far left flank was at this moment preparing to charge. The Ghazi cavalry was a fearsome sight, their reputation as frontier warriors had led to numerous reports spreading through Roman territory of their fierce nature and their martial prowess on their field. They fought like men possessed, as if by a supernatural force. But the Romans, Leo had reminded them that they risked losing everything, if that was not motivating factor then they should prepare to watch their wives and children led into slavery.

Leo lowered his lance and yelled out the order everyone recognized:

“CHARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGE”
The Ghazi cavalry likewise responded and charged with the same ardour as the Roman left flank. Unlike the Thematic Kaballeroi, however, the Ghazi cavalry are not as well armoured. It was for this reason that they were caught by surprise. Leo led the charge always from the front, risking his life so that his men would follow his example. At first contact, the Ghazi cavalry frontline was demolished. Instead of stopping to fight the Ghazi cavalry, Leo ordered his men to continue charging. The Ghazi cavalrymen who were halted in their tracks by the success of the Roman charge now found themselves mowed and cut down when the Roman charge overran them. A few hundred were left dead quickly. Leo then reined his horse in and waved his lance around. The Roman left flank then retreated to leave the Ghazis dumbfounded by what had happened.

On the right flank, the Kataphraktoi had likewise smashed the Ghazi cavalry forces, their armour prevailing over abstract faith. The Ghazis scattered in all directions. Under the command of one of Justinian’s cousin’s Heraclonas, the Kataphraktoi found themselves in an enviable position. All along the lines, Saracens and Romans were engaged except them. They were now starring into the exposed flank of the Saracen army. Heraclonas sent of his officers to order the reserves to hold the Roman right flank while his Kataphraktoi engaged the exposed flank. Waving his sword above his head, the Kataphraktoi formed the reliable wedge and melted together into a steel arrowhead glistening through the shards of light breaking through the grey curtain above.

Mutasim began to notice something different in the Saracen lines; it was beginning to become distorted, as if pushed inward on the sides. Spurring his horse, Mutasim rode to see what was happening. His heart sank. His Ghazi cavalry was nowhere to be sighted on his left flank and the Kataphraktoi were boring into his exposed flank. They were mercilessly devouring the unprotected Saracens. Mutasim had to act quick and ordered his Ghulam cavalry to follow him.

Mutasim rode just to the right of the Kataphraktoi, it seems that they were now exposed. His horse sped off to be followed by the Ghulam cavalry. The Ghulam cavalry hit the Kataphraktoi in the rear and demolished the first few handful of Kataphrakts caiught off guard. Word soon filtered to Heraclonas that his Kataphraktoi wedge was being nibbled away by a counter-attack by the Saracen general. Prepared for this situation, the reserve guard that had replaced the Kataphraktoi now counter-attacked Mutasim’s Ghulams. A tangle of Roman and Saracen cavalry were now entangled in a dangerous interchangiong web of swords, maces and arrows flying indiscriminately. Relieved that the Roman reserve had stopped the Saracen encroachment on his rear, Heraclonas turned around into concentrate on grinding the Saracen lines. But as he did, he saw the figure of his cousin in the distance haze of battle. The golden figure of Justinian fought energetically in all directions with his Pharganoi. Suddenly, the golden figure dipped into sea of soldiers and didn’t rise. Heraclonas couldn’t contain his horror.

kataphraktoi

06-23-2004, 16:01

BATTLE OF ANYCRA, AD 704, PT5

An Askari arrowhead embedded itself in Justinian’s thigh. It was well aimed at an exposed joint in Justinian’s armour. Had it not been for the mail covering over a thick pad, the arrow would, undoubtedly, have driven deeper. Nonetheless it caused Justinian so much pain that he slipped from his horse. His fall caught the attention of the Pharganoi who immediately flung themselves over Justinian. The nearest Pharganos, Bajan, grabbed his Emperor by the arm to help him to his feet.

“Close your eyes, grit your teeth, this will hurt, Emperor”
Before Justinian replied, Bajan pulled the arrowhead out quickly.

Justinian whimpered as he struggled to hide his pain in a grimace. Finding the pain too much, he fainted. The Pharganoi found themselves in a nightmarish situation. If the Roman army mistook the Emperor as dead, the battle would be lost as morale plummeted. At the same time, the battle was reaching a critical climax. Justinian was still covered by his circle of Pharganoi.

A senior Pharganos who extricated himself from the battle charged into the circle and demanded what was going on before seeing for himself, Justinian’s slumped body.

“Is he dead?’ asked the senior commander.
“No he is not Commander Yitzhak, he has fainted”
“We must do something quickly; the Romans will notice the Emperor’s absence in the thick of fighting. Which one of you is around the same size as Justinian?”
If the Pharganoi’s helmets were not fitted with a facial mask, then their expressions could be seen clearly, but as they were covered, they could only look at each other in bewilderment.
Yitzhak, a distinguished and experienced warrior impatiently explained to them what he had in mind.
“One of you will have dress in his armour and fight The Romans must be forced to think that their Emperor is alive and fighting Do you UNDERSTAND”
“But sir, none of us resemble his size, he may be tall, but we are taller” replied a Pharganos.
“Doesn’t matter” grumbled Yitzhak. “They don’t have time to measure the Emperor’s height, they are busy fighting. As long as they have a glimpse of his majesty, who gives a damn if he’s a couple of inches taller?”
A Pharganos immediately volunteered to wear the Emperor’s armour.

Yitzhak turned his head and saw the Romans slowly being distracted by the absence of the Emperor. He turned his attention back to the Pharganoi and urged them quickly. The incumbent Pharganos, Bursis, quickly stripped his armour off with the aid of his comrades and wore the Emperor’s golden armour in a haphazard fashion. The Emperor, meanwhile was dressed in Bursis’ armour and placed between two tall Pharganoi who carried him behind the Roman lines to rest and recuperate where the Roman reserves were busily awaiting action. Bursis was about to mount on the Emperor’s horse when Yitzhak held him back with his large fist.

“Wait You forgot this”
Bursis looked down and saw the Emperor’s sword and looked at his own hand which was carrying a Rhompaia.
“You look like an Emperor, so fight with his weapons” said Yitzhak
Bursis exchanged his Rhompaia for the Emperor’s magnificent blade and climbed upon the armoured charger before joining the battle at its thickest.
Yitzhak looked at the battle around him, it was still tense, but the Romans were still holding on. Their superior training, discipline and armour held the Saracens at bay. Victory was however not decided in the front, but the rear of the Roman army where Mercurius was fighting. Pausing to kneel and offer supplication in accordance with his Jewish faith, Yitzhak returned to battle.

kataphraktoi

06-23-2004, 16:07

pt 4 and 5 on the last page.

I wonder how Frogbeastegg prevents her head from exploding when a story seems to go forever and forever.

Either way, I'm beginning to get into writing this again, I have a further seven chapters written up in advance waiting to be connected by whats happening now.

kataphraktoi

06-25-2004, 08:09

BATTLE OF ANYCRA, AD 704, PT6

Leo’s men waited for the Ghazis to recover before the Thematic Kaballeroi charged again. The Ghazis, as usual were stubborn and fanatical despite all odds as they spurred forward their horses for another encounter. Leo hurled his lance aside as it was broken to pieces in the first charge and drew his favourite weapon, the saber of lazuli and gold.

“Hold your lances; I want those Kaballeroi who are armed with bows to fire.”
Bow-armed Kaballeroi dutifully fired their arrows while in motion towards the Ghazi cavalry. The Ghazis were blinded by Roman fire before realizing the ruse they had fallen in.

Leo now ordered his frontline men to lower their lances again for contact.

Like a strong tidal wave, the Ghazis were stunned by the second cavalry charge. Without pausing to retreat as he did before, Leo commanded his men to strike further and deeper into the Ghazi line. Men and horses fell into the quagmire of blood, mud and snow as the Kaballeroi trampled them in a merciless stampede.

Over the mountains, the Roman rear was hanging precariously. Mercurius’ and his men were being pushed inwards as the Ghulams advanced strongly. Despite his courage, despite his leadership in the heat of battle, the numbers were too strong as were the powerful Ghulams. Roman soldiers fell beside him as he inched every step backwards, the Ghulam axes were busily finishing off Romans who panicked and turned their backs from this irrepressible tide. He had no choice; the left flank of the Roman rear had to retreat to the second line of passes.

Mercurius grabbed a nearby Roman soldier and ordered him to signal the retreat to the next line of defence. Minutes later, the trumpet rang. All the soldiers in the rear knew what it meant. Dutifully they withdrew slowly while fighting the Saracens. The entrenched Psiloi provided cover in the form of a hail of arrows distracting the Ghulams temporarily until the Romans could retreat safely. The second line of defence was soon manned and occupied. The conceded space was strewn with dead Romans and Saracens and they provided no mean obstacle to the next Saracen advance. The Psiloi had exhausted their ammunition. The Saracens were relieved and proceeded against the new line of defence. Mercurius, as usual was in the forefront. The Ghulams formed a close order formation and instead of charging, they fired several barrages of missiles. The torrent continued for a long duration as the Romans huddled desperately under their large shields. Mercurius crouched beside them. He read defeat and weariness on their faces. They were good soldiers, but the Ghulams were elite soldiers.

“Stay strong men, we need to hold out a bit longer. Help will come, I promise. I will be here fighting among you. Take courage Think of what you are fighting for, think of what they are taking from you if they win.” yelled Mercurius. The soldiers were briefly raised in spirits but slipped back to their grim faces as their tired bodies reminded them of tougher exertions ahead.

Staring through a gap in the shield wall, Mercurius could see the Roman right flank holding strongly. They fought as strongly as they did when they were on the first line of defence. For a brief moment, Mercurius could smile. He wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes and allowed himself a glimmer of optimism.

“THUD” another hail of arrows embedded on the large Roman shields. Mercurius wondered how long this would keep up. He hoped reinforcements would come soon. His messengers told him so.

BATTLE OF ANYCRA, AD 704, PT7

In the care of two Pharganoi bodyguards, Justinian groggily awoke and tried to stand up before the pain in his thigh incapacitated him and left flat on his back.

“Rest Emperor” said one of the Pharganoi. The other Pharganoi informed Justinian of the situation at hand.
“One of us has taken your armour and fights as you. We did not want to panick the army to think that you were dead”
Justinian looked at himself and saw the uniform of the Pharganoi he wore to confirm what he was being told and commented briefly: “Very wise” before fainting again.

“Stay back” yelled Yitzhak as he pushed Bursis behind him.
“You have to stay alive you fool. Think of who you are representing at the moment –the Emperor” reminded the commander sternly and ordered other Pharganoi to Bursis’ side:
“Surround him and don’t let him be exposed dangerously”
“I can fight” retorted Bursis.
“You can send us all to Sheol if you die” snapped Yitzhak.

An arrow flew past Bursis’ head before sinking into a Pharganoi’s face mask behind him. The Pharganos drop to the floor with blood steaming underneath his mask, he was dead on immediately

“You see” pointed Yitzhak. “Dismount now”

Bursis waved off his commander’s reminder and charged off into the Saracens before.
A grizzled Yitzhak swore and chased after him: “Damn young fool, damn his idiocy. I will kill him if he survives this battle”

Followed by a few more Pharganoi they caught up to Bursis who engaged in an exchange of blows with an Askari. The Askari was wounded by Bursis’ saber and retreated back a few steps before surprising Bursis by throwing his axe at his face. The metal of the facial mask bent inwards protruding into Bursis’ eyes. Bursis ripped off his facial armour and covered his bleeding face. The red stream sickly shone against the gilded surface of the armour. He was set upon by a group of Saracens who pulled down his armoured charger. Bursis slumped to the sloshy surface of the ground. With a free eye, Bursis could see the same Askari he had fought with a scimitar in one hand ready to finish him off. In broken Greek, Bursis barely understood what he was saying.

“Head of …Roman Emperor …dog…mine” as he slowly grinned.
Surrounding Saracens nodded their approval by goading the Askari to finish the deed quickly. Bursis closed his eyes and heard the sound of what sounded like groaning and the thumping sounds of weapons on flesh in the darkness. He opened one of his eyes and saw the Askari with a Rhompaia embedded through his body. The Askari could scarely believe what was happening. His accomplice Saracens were on the ground, a few had their arms detached while another few had their heads buried in the sloshy surface of the ground. He heard that same voice again.

‘Fool Get up Get up”
Bursis was pulled to his feet.
“Tarkut Kasid Don’t let him out of your sight. Drag him back to safe distance, mount your horses and stay by him” ordered Yitzhak.
The two Pharganoi nodded and grabbed Bursis by each arm and pulled him back.
A Saracen close to Yitzhak bore his anger and frustration, retrieving his Rhompaia from the dead Askari he brought his weapon down on the soldier’s head.
“I should have ordered Bursis to saty behind instead of handing the Emperor’s weapons” lameted Yitzhak as he stepped backwards in line with the rest of the Roman soldiers.
Yitzhak then looked north and sighed longingly: “Brother, come quickly soon”

A large shadowed filtered slowly down the Halys river. Its movement was swift and fluent. An armoured gauntlet pointed in the direction west. Another hand pointed in the same direction and confirmed it. It was marching towards Ancyra. The armoured gauntlet pulled the reins of his horse and rode towards Anycra with his large shadow following closely behind. The eyes of the Khagan Aspurakan closed and whispered to whatever god he wondered was there and prayed he would not be too late.

ah_dut

06-27-2004, 22:38

good as usual kat http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif

kataphraktoi

06-29-2004, 18:05

BATTLE OF ANYCRA, AD 704, PT8

A felled Ghazi made one last effort before he breathed his last; grabbing a broken lance he thrust it upwards at the closest horseman near him. Blood trickled down the spearhead onto his hands till its dripped into a small puddle. The horse was well armoured in the front and head, but lacked armour beneath its exposed belly and collapsed with a shriek as it crumpled onto the dying Ghazi. The rider fell over the horse and landed on his back. His sword flew out of his hands and drove itself through the mud. The hilt shone of gold and lazuli….

Leo’s eyes were closed but his mouth was gasping for air desperately. He could not move, he felt nothing in his back. Voices were flying around his head like a cacophony of undefinable words. Twice he was nudged by a shadow yelling at him. He could not reply.

“COMMANDER”

His eyes opened at last.

Leo’s eyes darted everywhere before centering on the eyes of his junior officer, Michael.
“Commander Get up We are close to the rear of the Saracen army, they have reserves waiting.” said Michael as he propped his commander up.
“I need a horse” Leo simply said as he kicked the dead carcass of his horse lying on the Ghazi looking at him with glazed eyes starring emptily.
Michael handed the reins of his horse to Leo.
“Get back to our reserve, wait for me there’ coaxed Leo as he leapt onto his new charger.
Before he joined his cavalrymen, Leo pointed to his saber to which Michael immediately retrieved it.

Leo caught up his horsemen but found them stopped in their tracks. To his horror they retreated in his direction. Through the small gaps he could see the Saracen reserves charging counter-attacking his flanking attack. He had smashed the Ghazi cavalrymen but he had failed to notice the Ghazi footwarriors who crashed recklessly and with abandon with their axes fearing neither death nor the hail of arrows the bow-armed Kaballeroi fired into their midst. Leo followed the lead of his men and retreated with as the Ghazis came in overwhelming numbers. The Ghazi cavalry had taken a considerable portion of his regiment and their strength. They were in no position of strength to face these formidable and terrifying fanatical warriors.

Leading these Ghazis was a particularly distinguished commander. He wore a bright green cloak engraved with several Arabic scripts. In his helmet was attached a red flower. What drew Leo’s eyes however was his horse saddled in braided gold and silver gilded leather straps. His finery made him an obvious target. With his men rushing past him in frequent numbers, he steered his horse in the other direction. With his saber secure in his hands he drove the horse forward charging at the Ghazi leader. Several Ghazis shot arrows at him. They were useless as they harmlessly bounced off his armour leaving only a few small scratch marks. The Ghazi leader saw Leo heading towards and stared bewildered at what he thought was a fool daring to challenge him. He was, after all Khokan, the legendary Ghazi raider of many songs and tales spread through the frontier. He made his reputation through devastating and suicidal raids deep into Roman territory before the Caliphate launched its invasion of Roman territory. He feared nothing, should he die, he knew he earned a place in paradise. No better honour could be accorded in his eyes than that of a martyr. That honour, however, was unexpected if not premature by his standards. The attack was swift and ferocious in its execution. Leo leapt in full armour from his charger against the Ghazi leader. He grappled onto Khokan who was seated in his horse. With his free hand, Leo wrapped it around the Ghazi’s neck and used his full weight to drag him to the ground. Khokan used his physical strength and pushed Leo off him despite his armour. Speaking in Arabic, he warned his men that this single combat was his and his alone. Leo meanwhile slowly dragged himself of the ground till he stood up in battle position. His saber pointed at Khokan. Khokan picked up his own saber which was dislodged by Leo in his daring attack

Leo’s men had halted in their retreat and turned back to see their commander in single combat in the midst of Ghazi footwarriors with their leader.

BATTLE OF ANYCRA, AD 704, PT9

The arrows had stopped firing, but the fighting was far from over. The Ghulams charged into the shield wall and shattered the front rows before the reinforced lines behind pushed the nulled the charge’s impact. Once again, Roman and Saracen was locked in close combat. The Psiloi remained in their unassailable towers powerless by the fighting below; they stood no chance against the teeming Saracen masses or the Ghulams. They resorted instead to picking rocks and hurling them into Saracen ranks. To the Saracens below, the rocks were worse than the arrows. Saracens were felled by the weight of the rocks as gravity transformed them into deadly projectiles that crushed flesh, metal and bones indiscriminately.

The Ghulam wave had pushed the Romans slowly but surely in the space behind them, the only thing preventing the Saracens from encircling and destroying the rearguard, and it was them that the Psiloi directed most of their attacks. With infrequent but deadly effect, rocks dived into the Ghulam lines below killing men at randomly. Still, the Ghulams pushed forward oblivious to the dangerous projectiles hailing above them. More than one Ghulam tried to fire at the Psiloi in vain. More rocks pounded Ghulam heads and shields.

Mercurius was thick in the fighting; his feet were tired from powerlessly holding his ground in resistance to the Ghulam surge. He slipped a few times only to be pulled up by his soldiers. A young soldier next to him had belatedly killed a Ghulam before having his skull smashed to pieces by a blunt Ghulam maee. His brains scattered onto Mercurius who could do nothing but avenge the youth by returning the favour to the Ghulam who had his head smashed inward by Mercurius’ mace.

It seemed like an eternity, Mercurius had been fighting non-stop, his body was screaming in pain for rest. He could not oblige. His sweating body rippled with strained muscle as he fought as hard as he could. But the numbers never seem to diminish in the Ghulam masses. They seem to be increasing. Perhaps the decimation of the Roman army made them larger, he didn’t know. He then heard what he had waited for since the beginning of the battle. A trumpeter blew the blessed signal that the Emperor, him and the messengers knew only. The Khazars were coming; their allies were joining the war to fight the Saracens. Slipping back through the Roman lines he ran and climbed onto an elevated section above the fighting and scanned through the jagged peaks. He could see them

katank

07-12-2004, 21:22

more chapters, please

frogbeastegg

07-13-2004, 12:20

Quote[/b] (kataphraktoi @ June 23 2004,16:07)]I wonder how Frogbeastegg prevents her head from exploding when a story seems to go forever and forever.
Generally I don't find that to be a problem unless the foundations of the story are flawed, if they are then the whole thing falls down and needs to be rebuilt. That tends to be messy, just look at Red Hand and the original Eleanor for proof.

I would second katank; if you could spare the time and inclination to add a few more pictures my mini collection would be grateful.

kataphraktoi

07-19-2004, 08:46

sorry chaps, i'm back at uni. I'll still paste some stuff but not frequently.

zelda12

09-17-2004, 16:22

Bumping this to the top for Kat to post on it.

Never got round to reading this, five solid pages is daunting to say the least.
Rest assured I will.

kataphraktoi

09-19-2004, 17:23

Nothing new...just took the last chapter and slipped it in for continuity.

BATTLE OF ANYCRA, AD 704, PT10

Like a dark green dragon, the Khazars slithered through the valleys and crags as they rode inexorably like lava. Below, he could see the Saracens turning their attention to what the Romans saw. The horror on their faces distracted them to the point where the beleaguered Romans counter-charged and pushed the Saracens back a fair distance. The Khazarian Dragon breathed fire as it wailed a war-cry that stirred the blood inside every Saracen’s veins. It jaws open as it came closer and closer. Its talons were unsheathed in fury and its eyes glimmered brightly under the shadows of the mountains. At the head of the dragon was the Khagan Aspurakan screaming wildly with eyes wide open in a delirium of war lust. The first Saracen to cross his path was cut down where he stood.

The dragon’s jaws finally sunk its teeth into the Saracen body devouring their warriors like a hungry wolf. Khazar horsemen flew in all directions cutting down Saracens from behind and lancing them with sublime ease and vigor. The Romans were energized and their morale rose as they regained their confidence. Caught between two hungry pincers, the Saracens suddenly appeared small and insignicant. The Ghulams, previously irrepressible were running for their lives and butchered after a few steps. They were trapped and fought blindly against friend and foe. Soon, the Saracen flank attack was vanquished, not one Saracen was left.

Mercurius called out to the Khagan who responded and rode to the commander.

“Mercurius! It is good to see you alive and well” bellowed Aspurakan.
Mercurius gripped the Khagan by the arm:
“How is my father, is he well?” asked Mercurius
“He is, Mercurius. He sends his warm regards. Where is Justinian?”
“Your brother in law is fighting with the main army, I don’t know how the fighting is going but we must be quick. He faces tremendous odds against the Saracens. I will show you the mountain pass into the Ancyran plain”

Mercurius rode with the Khagan and his retinue through the guarded passes and onto the opening canvas of the battle before them. Unrelentless, visceral and deadlocked, the battle before their eyes was kinetically charged as each side fought to destroy the other with all their energy.

Aspurakan saw figure of what looked like the Emperor in full armour ahead and rode ahead before Mercurius could respond.

The golden figure was flanked by two Pharganoi who upon seeing the Khagan immediately kneeled, as did the golden figure. Aspurakan was puzzled, why did the sovereign and brother in law kneel before him like a subject.

“Justinian! Why do you kneel!” asked Aspurakan.
Bursis took his helmet off.
Aspurakan was taken aback and asked Bursis with a tone of apprehension:
”Where is my brother?”
One of the Pharganoi spoke up:
“He is safe, he is with our men. He was wounded during the fighting.” the Pharganos then pointed to the figure lying on the ground flanked by a strong contingent of fellow Pharganoi.

The Khagan rushed to the side of his brother in law taking his helmet off.

kataphraktoi

09-19-2004, 17:27

I've got this drawing thats been left on my table for ages, methinks I'll scan it. But I have to finish it first.

yawwwn, its midnite in my part of the world.

Tomorrow I have mow the lawn and help a friend out with some Theological assigments.

Lachlan Og

10-06-2004, 05:01

I joined just to encourage you to get back to writing, this stuff is great. One suggestion, there is a large book here with some dialogue work and a bit more excitement when not writing about battles, however call it speculative fiction rather than alternate history. Just base it around some real historic figure, if you are believable enough soon the acedemics will be quoting you as the truth.

kataphraktoi

10-15-2004, 17:32

BATTLE OF ANYCRA: the closing, AD 704, PT11

Khokan feigned a charge against Leo who responded as the Ghazi had wanted. Leo dodged to his left only to narrowly miss being cut down by the Ghazi’s saber. He could feel the air being sliced before his eyes and wisely backed away as soon as he could. Leo looked to the horse he had borrowed and untied a shield before entering into combat again. While he did so, Khokan took the opportunity to take two handaxes lodged into the ground. As soon as Leo turned around with his shield, two projectiles came towards his head from Khokan. Leo raised his shield to meet the oncoming axes. Lowering his shield, he saw Khokan charged into him with such immense force that he was sent flying a few metres. The Ghazi stood over Leo and raised his saber to cut him down. Reacting instinctively, Leo swung his shield into the Ghazi’s face to hear a cracking sound emanate. The force of the shield had broken the Ghazi’s nose leaving it bleeding profusely. Seizing the chance, Leo gripped his saber with both hands and rammed it through the Ghazi’s mail, leather and lamellar armour with such force that it pushed its way through the Ghazi’s spine and out of his back. Khokan slid to his knees and dropped to the ground to the shock of the Ghazis. Leo planted a knee into the gory turf. By now, his strength had dissipated. The Ghazis gawked briefly before being pursued by the rejuvenated Roman cavalry. Leo was picked up by a few of his officers who carried him off the field.

Mercurius trudged wearily through the passes that led to the open Anycran plain. Puffing intermittently in between he leant against the surface of the mountain and watched with relief as the Saracen lines folded and collapsed when news of the Khazars advance unnerved their resolve. Years have passed since he decided to take up the sword again. But there was nowhere he would prefer to be: in battle, defending his sovereign, empire and faith. His eyes peered skyward. The clouds have dissipated slightly and the snow ceasing its cavalcade. Putting a hand in between the folds of his armour, he took out a small parchment of paper. Before he rode for Anycra, a monk had rushed to his side and forcefully placed this small parchment into his hands. Without uttering anything, the monk withdrew just as quickly as his sudden appearance. Now, in the setting sun in the horizon over a day’s hard fighting he unraveled the parchment.

“It has been revealed to Lord Mercurius, not the time, not the hour, nor the day, but the month of the end. Prepare yourself. Your days are numbered for we monks are abandoned from the world. Despite your broken vows, the one who receives them forgets not the covenant wrought”

Fanatical monk, thought Mercurius. Faith was one thing, but to carry it this far was ridiculous. For the moment he felt imbued with confidence of the challenges ahead, Dying was not part of his plan. Realising his sword was still in his hand, he slid it back into the scabbard. The gore and blood can be cleaned later.

Aspurakan ordered the Pharganoi to carry Justinian’s body in a makeshift stretcher of his owned jeweled cloak of scarlet. Ancyra was bereft of a Saracen garrison and surrendered immediately to the Khazari forces that entered the city gates with the retreat of the Saracens. With Justinian unable to assume command, Mercurius filled the breach and signaled the Romans to halt any pursuit of defeated forces. He need not have bothered, the army was too tired to pursue any enemy. The Khazars, on the other hand, still energetic and unscathed pursued the Saracens with uninhibited glee.

The battle of Anycra had been won. But it was just the first roll of the dice. There were battles ahead, more dangers and challenges. Mercurius knew this well and embraced it. He feared nothing. Breathing deeply, Mercurius proceeded to step down from the rocky platform and onto the field to find the Emperor Justinian carried aloft by four Pharganoi guardsmen. Alarmed he quickened his pace.

Mutasim adjusted his cloak to cover his face from the cold. His victorious army was defeated disastrously. By now half his army laid dead on the field. Fortunately, the main bulk of the Saracen army was still encamped at the nearest fortress at Tephrike. Nonetheless, he had paid the price. After losing the Khazars through the treacherous mountain ranges, he ordered a quick survey of his army. When told of the numbers he refused to listen any further. By now it was nightfall. It was with a heavy heart that Mutasim marched eastwards. The Saracen momentum had been broken.

TEPHRIKE, MUTASIM’S ENDGAME AD 704

Mutasim sat wearily in his chair as he sat in cold silence day after day. Touching neither food or water, he brooded darkly in the shadows of the citadel tower of Tephrike. In a single battle, the Saracen advance was halted and blunted. He did not forsee this. While he grew accustomed to the darkness, the flurry of activity outside the tower grew frenetic as daily messages of another Roman offensive animated the Saracen armies encamped nearby.

Mutasim deigned to move slightly, but only enough to pick up a parchment left on his table by one of those daily couriers from the frontlines reporting news of Roman movements.

Caeserea had fallen to an advance guard of mountainous Akritai and their Mardaite levies.

Iconium, captured by storm under a small Allaghion detachment under cover of darkness.

Euchaita, surrendered to the main Roman force striking deep into the Antolian plateau.

Mutasim flicked that parchment to reveal another one. News from the frontline.

Sebastea, captured after a brief siege. Emperor Justinian massacres Saracen garrison.

Melitene, Roman vanguard breaks past Saracen lines to sack the city. Movement thereafter untraceable.

Deeper and deeper did Mutasim’s face sink into darkness, the lines of shadows cutting across his worn and tired face. Another parchment. Thankfully, the last, thought the once proud general. But the news did not provide a reason for thankfulness.

Roman forces converging from the west and the south. The Roman force from the south is the same as that which sacked Melitene. The Roman army from the West is the main army. Khazari allies have been spotted to be with the main Roman army, but only a small body of Khazari soldiers. The rest of the Khazari army will come from the north.

Barely containing his silence, Mutasim jumped from his chair and raced out of the citadel. There was work to be done. Another decisive battle loomed. There could be no possibility of defeat. He swore to die defeated than live shamed and humiliated in the eyes of the Muslim world. The Romans marched closer and closer each day that passed. He would meet them and God-willing prevail.

Time constraints dont allow me the luxury to spend time on it as I would like to. I hate that......

kataphraktoi

10-15-2004, 17:39

I promise to polish the next few chapters.

Soo. darn tired............yawn.

kataphraktoi

10-27-2004, 10:25

http://www.geocities.com/weirdguynextdoor/romani.jpg

http://www.geocities.com/weirdguynextdoor/snip.jpg

look at one of the shields closely.

:D

Ludens

10-30-2004, 13:42

http://www.geocities.com/weirdguynextdoor/romani.jpg

http://www.geocities.com/weirdguynextdoor/snip.jpg

look at one of the shields closely.
Very good pictures, and this time I didn't need to right click - save to see them.

When are you going to continue this story?

EDIT: I did notice the shield thing ~D

frogbeastegg

10-30-2004, 16:51

Ah, more art to fill out my pictures folder and break up the dull guide pictures. Great! 'Romani' is my favourite; I particularly like the second chap from the left, the one with his helmet under his arm.

I noticed the shield thing too; I had to zoom in to read it but ... I won't give it away, but froggy likes.

kataphraktoi

11-05-2004, 17:03

SOUTH OF TEPHRIKE AD 704

His men were a little disgruntled by all the loot they left behind. However, they had no choice. What use was the creaking weight of loot if it hindered their orders from the Emperor? Leo soothed their sore hearts after gently prying treasures from their hands with a few consoling words. They were soldiers of Christ, not adventurers. Defending the Roman state was their priority, not earthly materials. By appealing to their nominal spiritual side, he achieved his aims, but just barely. The Akritoi were hardy, warlike and rough men for whom Christianity was a formality rather than a practicality. And yet, he loved them. They were his kind of soldiers from whom he expected no complaints of hunger, weariness and fighting.

The Akriti were border warriors who lived on the frontiers of the empire. When the Saracens smashed through the Taurus gates, the Akritoi continued their resistance in the mountains. Saracen patrols feared them for their ability to ambush them. With the Saracens withdrawing to Tephrike, it was only right to bring them along for the crowning glory of their efforts. For weeks, Leo and his detachment of Roman cavalry had scoured the Lycandian mountains for them and when he did, directed them towards disrupting Saracens lines by sacking Melitene and ravaging the countryside where new Muslim settlers had recently encroached Roman towns and villages.

Leo could not help but be struck by his new promotion to Spatharokandidatoi. His men endlessly testified to his courageous conduct before Mercurius and the Khazar Khagan who recommended him to Justinian. A scarlet cloak had been presented to him by the Khagan himself which he wore with pride in his newfound title. His warriors had ridden all night till dawn to reach their destination. The Emperor was waiting for them at Tephrike and it was at the dawn that Tephrike was seen from the distance.

His cavalry forces encamped in the forest adjacent to Tephrike. His men would rest and wait. Justinian’s forces had not arrived yet.

SIEGE OF TEPHRIKE AD 704 PT1

The brilliant disc of gold floated ominously above the breaking dawn. It was a restless night for the Saracens. For the Romans, it was a day of anticipation as they breathed in the crisp morning air. Justinian had recovered from his war wounds from Anycra. Riding astride his stallion, he felt the jubilation that exuded from his men. Now and then he would turn back and look at his soldiers. All he could see were bright eyes and warm smiles through the ranks of spears and creaking armour.

By his side was his once again the loyal Mercurius. Justinian had wondered how his military aide had aged in the past few years. Undoubtedly still young, energetic and in peak form, his eyes reflected a melancholic hue underneath thoughtful eyebrows. Mercurius ordered the army to halt. The trumpeters signaled the horn.

Before them was Tephrike.

A hushed gasp was heard through the ranks. This was the culmination of a long war. Most of Roman Anatolia had been evacuated by the Saracens except this fortress. Standing defiant on a broad and jagged promontory jutting out against the monotonous ridges of the terrain, its walls rose solidly like a white curtain of masonry. On each corner of the fortress were Saracen standard fluttering sporadically in accord with the wind.

Mercurius turned his horse around and turned to the army:

“PREPARE THE ENGINES!!”

If only I had the same programs as Dimeolas then I can translate my pencils into graphics. :(

kataphraktoi

11-05-2004, 17:10

Aww no fair, Froggy is a month older than me :(

Jan 6th in the same year

:bow: respect ur elders.

In my culture I'd have to call u Auntie ~D

kataphraktoi

12-18-2004, 18:06

SIEGE OF TEPHRIKE AD 704, PT2

The siege machines creaked as iron and wood rubbed together in a state of tension and torsion. Soldiers pulled and wounded the machines, their muscles tensed and their foreheads alive with sweat. Finally, after their exertions, they managed to put their siege machines in order.
One of them, a certain Harmatius puffed incessantly as he used his sleeves to soak up his afternoon perspiration. He and his company had prepared the last of twelve Onagers or “Donkey of Damascus” as they would jokingly refer to in light of Harmatius’ Damascene descent.

He felt a strong presence behind, a shadow. It was Mercurius.

The unexpected presence of Mercurius made him jerk to attention and salute his superior clumsily.

“Relax, Damascene. You have done a good job. The onagers, I trust, are in good order?”
“Yes, sir. All twelve of them are ready to tear the walls of Tephrike. If I might add so, they could tear the walls of Babylon themselves”

“Can they now?” teased Mercurius. “We will find out today won’t we? Order your men to eat and drink, we will commence bombardment as soon as possible”

As Mercurius turned away, Harmatius quickly rushed to his men and ordered them to prepare themselves physically for the afternoon bombardment. When the last siegemen sipped his last drop of water, every man was in position.

In unison they shouted:

“Donkeys of Damascus READY!!”

The crudity of the nickname grated on Harmatius’ ears but he tolerated it, no harm done.
He could see Mercurius’ gaze at his men, the commander nodded to Harmatius.

“Unleash the donkeys lads!!” shouted Harmatius

“One”
“Two”
“Three”
“Four”
“Five”
“Six”
“HALT”

The first six onagers delivered their baggage into the walls of Tephrike. As expected, they made small depreciative dents into the firm walls but at least they left telling marks.

“Seven”
“Eight”
“Nine”
“Ten”
“Eleven”
”Twelve”

The second delivery added further lacerations to the walls that still stood defiant but shaken.

It was now the turn of the Saracens.

Mutasim ran along the ramparts encouraging his men and giving orders in the same breath. The first barrage had ended, the Saracens needed to respond. He pointed to his own crew of catapaults who stood ready and alert.

“Light them up!”

The crewmen light pots of naptha in the catapault launching arm and let loose the machine’s torsion power to propel their fiery payload.

Searing streaks left trails of smoke as they hurtled towards the Roman lines. Fortunately, the Romans had encamped far from Tephrike’ firing range. The landed naptha was greeted with jeers and insults. All the grass had died during the harsh winter season so there was no danger of an inferno.

Harmatius was at it again. His men reloaded their onagers awaiting further orders. The projectiles were much lighter this time. They were iron pots of naptha. Instead of clay pots, Harmatius had opted for iron pots to give the missile more weight and penetration. His intention was to land the naptha inside the city walls not against its walls.

The Saracens on the rampart walls followed the trajectory of the naptha missiles and laughed as they sailed over the walls. Their laughs quickly turned to the realization of what was actually happening. Inside the walls of Tephrike were innumerable structures of wood. It was these structures that now caught alight and sent Saracen soldiers into a frenzy by desperately trying to organize a way to find water and douse the fires.

Mutasim, who was at the walls frantically delivered a flurry of orders to put the fires out and steer their own projectile machines away from the conflagration inside the fortress. Buckets of water spilled precariously on the sodden footpaths as the Saracen footmen hurriedly tried to put out the conflagration. Alas, they were only human. The onslaught of Naptha ignited mushrooms of flame in all kinds of directions.

And then it stopped. The remaining fires were put out to the relief of Mutasim.

Harmatius and his siege team stopped their barrages. A lone rider from the camp rode towards the citadel. Justinian was sending a message. The recent artillery assault was a little foretaste of what to expect, and, it was hoped, an effective communicator…

http://www.geocities.com/weirdguynextdoor/constantineIV.jpg

kataphraktoi

12-18-2004, 18:11

the pic isn't complete and I will complete it, jsut like this story..someday

kataphraktoi

12-20-2004, 06:21

SIEGE OF TEPHRIKE AD 704, PT3

The lone rider trotted calmly along the road leading to the citadel. It was a graveled dull and uninteresting elevated footpath. His ascension towards the citadel gates was preceded by a row of Saracen archers lining their arrows towards him. A distinguished personage enquired with fluent Greek about the rider’s purpose:

“State your business Roman, what do you wish to communicate?”

The rider responded bluntly:

“The Lord Emperor asks for the evacuation of all Saracen forces inside Roman territory and the surrender of all remaining forts and outposts”

Mutasim simply waved his hand derisively. “Is that all?” then turned his back on the messenger. He nodded his head to the officer commanding the archers. “Give him our response”.

Between the armies of the Roman and Saracen armies, the lone intermediary fell from his horse with numerous arrows lodged into his body. The gates of the citadel slowly opened, Mutasim stepped out from Tephrike and decapitated the messenger. Holding his grisly prize in his left hand he paraded it to the Romans with the chorus of his Saracen soldier cheering him on. They may be dead, thought Mutasim, but they have some fight in them left. Calling for two aides, they scurried out with a ladder and some tools. The first Saracen aide planted the ladder against the one side of the citadel gate while the other aide climbed out the ladder with more just his tools but the severed head of the rider under his arms.

Tink, Tink, Tink. The echo of a nail and hammer could be heard in the vast expanse of space between the two armies. All Roman eyes were focused on the head of their dead comrade.

From the far distance, Justinian and his commanders stood impassively watching their blunt terms rejected. Mercurius leant closer to Justinian’s ear and passed the latest intelligience from the field.

“Emperor, a messenger has arrived from our cavalry officer Leo. His men, as you have ordered are hidden in the forested undergrowth to the south of the citadel. They await further orders”

“Leo has several men who are native Armenians from Tephrike is that true?”

Mercurius confirmed it with a nod of his head: “Native Akritoi warriors”

“Unlike Ancyra, we don’t need to resort to a huge battle. We will use our head now, not our weapons for to extricate this thorn in our side, Mercurius. This impressive young officer you have under your command, is he competent”

“Yes, my Lord. A quick learner. In fact, he was responsible for a secret infiltration mission a while back in the Bithynian campaign and commended by the Khagan himself.”

“Ah yes, I remember now. As we agreed on, Leo will only need ten men to infiltrate the city tonight. The rest of his men will join us. You must tell me more about this Leo later, Mercurius. He looks like a promising prospect for our future officer corps”

“I will” replied Mercurius: “And what do we do for the rest of the day then?”

“Resume the artillery barrage, the locals in this area has arranged a continuous supply of ammunition for us”.

A shout from Mercurius was all that was needed to prompt Harmatius to resume his duties. However, this time, more engines were brought up to supplement his current array. The initial barrages were a sample. Harmatius was giving them the full palette for the whole day.

“FIRE”

Mutasim and his men rushed behind the thick gates of the citadel as the fresh wave of missiles aimed at them threateningly landed a few feet before them.

SIEGE OF TEPHRIKE AD 704, PT4

Leo sat huddled with ten men in the darkness of the forest, rubbing his hands together to warm himself against the penetrating chill of the night. Above him was a canvas of stars laid out like richly adorned Persian carpet. Blowing air from his mouth he playfully formed a snake-like figure from the steam.

“Boys, we leave soon”

His companions nodded sagely.

An Armenian Tephrikean among them, Artabanus, spoke up:

“Before we infiltrate Tephrike, may I treat you to a folklore from out native country? Something to get the blood flowing”

“Humour me, Artabanus” smiled Leo. His white teeth visible in the darkness.

“In this country of ours have lived generations of Armenians and we have absorbed its traditions. In fact, I may add proudly, the great Heraclius himself was a native of this place. Some say the Heraclians are Cappadocians, but I tell you the truth, he was born a few feet from the Cappadocian border!” All the men laughed.

“Therefore, I can claim him as a native son” beamed Artabanus. “But as I was saying, we have absorbed much of the culture in this place and its old superstitions.”

“Superstitions?” asked Leo.

Rubbing his chin with his fingers and thoughtful expression on his face: “You see, the Roman empire use to be pagan. And some of these pagan superstitions still live among us today. Amongst the strongest one is the superstition of the Apollian curse.”

Artabanus’ audience suddenly crowded closer to him in unison, they were intrigued.

“Apollo was a Greek god, I don’t know what god he was for but it is said that he bestowed and created a curse of madness on all forbidden unions”

“What kind of forbidden union” asked the swarthy Hun, Bogkhan.

“Nothing to worry about Bogkhan, it is incest Apollo curses”

Bogkhan’s penchant for women was well known and it did not failed for him to receive a few nudges and knowing glances.

‘These curses come in various forms. Early death, madness, bad misfortune. Now answer this question for me. Who was Heraclius’ second wife?”

“His niece of course!” boomed the lithe Greek, Loukas.

“You are right.” Said Artabanus in a depth of voice that lowered cautiously.

“Heraclius’ campaigns against the Persians ended in heartbreak when the Saracens destroyed his life’s work. His son Constantine died of a mysterious illness at an early age. His grandson Constans died young, his great grandson Constantine died young as well. And who is the great great grandson of Heraclius?”

Everyman sitting there knew the answer.

“Madness appears in all the men of the Heraclian line. When they reach their thirties that is…”

“Apollo is a pagan and false god. How do we explain it?” asked one of the men.

“We don’t” replied Artabanus: “That is why it remains a superstition that lingers amongst the Armenian Tephrikeans.

A grim silence invaded the small group men shadowed by the trees which seemed to grow bigger in the darkness. A gentle rustle of leaves by the night wind broke the static silence. Leo took a small stick in his and tapped a piece of rock next to time in his own private contemplation. A superstition no doubt, he thought to himself. Nothing to worry about. With that, he got up and girded his sword to his side.

“We’ve stayed here long enough. Let’s prepare.”

Gratefully, all his men got up to break the uneasy silence.

Leo looked to Loukas: “Make sure your bow is ready, we need to signal to our forces later”.

Turning from Loukas, Leo addressed Bogkhan the Hun: “You will be the first to ender the citadel when Artabanus prepares his ropes. We depend on your stealth and daggers to disarm the sentry quietly”

Bogkhan bowed slightly in acknowledgement of his orders.

The small company of ten men disappeared into the thickness of the forest in the direction of the citadel perched on top a fearsome promontory. The siege of Tephrike would depend on them. The lives of countless Roman soldiers are in their hands.

kataphraktoi

12-20-2004, 18:39

BATTLE OF TEPHRIKE AD 704, PT1

Eleven shadows danced and melted in the dark recesses of the cliffs below the Tephrike citadel. Their contorted forms imposed themselves like wandering slithering spirits in silent intent. Each man carried a dark cloak with them and all their weapons were wrapped in thick clothes to prevent metal clanging against metal. Silence was a valuable commodity to be used. Leo led his men around a huge arc that formed the lowest part of the citadel. It was a perfect staging point for an infiltration. Dense growth formed around the base of the tower above them and the sentries were the lightest since they faced away from the Roman camp. Leo indicated with his fingers that Artabanus should use his ropes attached with hooks to find a perfect place to latch onto so his men could climb up the wall.

Artabanus carried with a leather pouch. From the pouch he took out a hook covered with a soft material. When the hook latched onto a surface, the sound of metal would be dulled by the material. Artabanus swung the hook in small circles to develop momentum before he threw it. With the clever use of his hand and years of experience as part of the Akritoi corps who were specialists in mountainous warfare, he latched the hook into a gap on the wall. Artabanus tugged it forcefully. The hook fell and took a piece of the wall with it. The debris crumbled onto the ground. Leo’s men quickly ducked for cover in the shadows.

A Saracen sentryman rushed quickly to the wall and looked over the ramparts to see what the sound was. Darkness. He could see nothing but darkness only. Perhaps just an animal he thought. He wandered away.

Artabanus cursed beneath his breathe. It was a close one. Again he threw the hook up onto the walls. He tugged it forcefully again. This time it stuck. The Armenian pulled another hook from his pouch and did the same with the first rope. He secured a second rope safely without drawing attention. The men waited for any Saracen response to their stealthy endeavours. Silence only. Leo tapped Bogkhan on the shoulder and looked up. Bogkhan stepped out from the shadows and grabbed the rope in two hands and planted his feet horizontally against the surface of the wall and climbed silently up the rope.

One by one, Leo and his company climbed up the two ropes. By the time Leo was over the ramparts, his Hunnic warrior had killed the sentrymen on their part of the wall. Each Saracen had their throats slit by the expertise of Bogkhan as he attacked them from the back. Leo and his men descended onto the ground level of the citadel. They walked seamlessly through the sleeping masses of the Saracen army. Their presence while detected was dismissed as that of fellow comrades. Weaving their way through what seemed like endless alleys of Saracens they came onto the formidable gates of the citadel. Leo indicated to his men that they should killed the Saracens who guarded the towers. Loukas was about to join them before Leo stopped him. Loukas remembered that he was to fire a flaming arrow to signal to the Romans. They were only six men stationed in the towers above the gate and they were quickly dispatched by Leo’s men among them the well proven Bogkhan. So effective was the elimination of their victims that hardly a sound was made in the course of their undertaking. Leo thought to himself that the Saracens were making this all too easy.

All eleven men coalesced before the gates of the citadel. Positioning four men on each side of the gate, they lifted the heavy bar that sealed the gates. Loukas climbed onto the ramparts of the gate tower and lit a small flame onto an arrow he wrapped in cotton. Arching his back, Loukas waited for the gates of the citadel to creak open before he fired the arrow into the sky.

From across the citadel, the Roman was prepared and ready. The fiery arrow was well sighted. In response, one of the archers fired a fiery arrow of their own to confirm their sighting of the signal. The quietness of the sky was humming with footsteps slowly droning towards the city. It was a surprise attack on the city. The Saracens would be caught by surprise!

kataphraktoi

12-21-2004, 19:49

thoughts anyone?

frogbeastegg

12-21-2004, 20:23

It's good to see you updating again. I'm slowly reading the whole thing from the beginning; I found I couldn't remember what had happened previously because my memory is terrible. It'll probably take a few days before I get back to the current posts.

That new picture is great; I know I always say this, but really it's great. I've been waiting two days to get a look at it (the site was always down when I tried) but it was worth it.

kataphraktoi

12-22-2004, 06:24

I'm still adding to that picture, a few shades here and there. Thanks for the comments...its been awfully quiet in this thread for ages. I finally got the free time to start updating again. 6 months ago I wrote some advance chapters but I could not post it cos there gaps to fill in, the gap is slowly closing.....

I have another picture in reserve...I don't plan to finish it, it kinda died on me along the way...I'll post it later.

BATTLE OF TEPHRIKE AD 704, PT2

Leo and his men barely escaped with their lives. The Saracens were prepared! They killed expendable Saracen sentrymen to open the gates but they did not reckon with the Saracens who spied on their movements. They joined the Roman army as it stormed through the gates in anticipation of a decisive attack against Tephrike. As the Romans packed into the citadel, the Saracens who had prepared themselves positioned themselves to close on the Romans like a vise as they charged on all side against the Romans. It was still dark in the sky and only the torches and voices of soldiers from each side indicated who was fighting for whom. Arrows flew from the shadows to strike the frightened and badly jarred Roman soldiers who found themselves pressed in a murderous threshing mill. Like reprocity unfolding, the Saracens paid the Romans back with interest for their earlier artillery barrages, row upon rows of foot archers stood erect and calmly dispensed with their deadly carriage to the sound of their comrades yelling curses and insults at their enemy.

The officers in the forefront of the assault were slaughtered in the fierce barrage. Only Leo was left as the highest ranking Moirarch. He ordered a retreat which transformed into chaos. There were fresh Roman troops pressing behind the unfortunately frontline troops inside the citadel. The harder the frontline soldiers pushed back, the harder the rest of the army pushed forward. Like unwilling lambs to the slaughter, the soldiers in the citadel were pushed into the arms of the Saracens who charged from their positions and flew into the Romans with a thunderous force. Leo could hear the forceful impact of the charge mingled with groans and screams of fallen soldiers. All he could do was to scream retreat and hope someone heard him in the carnage.

Mercurius rode ahead of the Emperor to see the progress of the surprise assault. What he saw did not align with the intended aims of the army. It was not a surprise assault; it was a surprise ambush by the Saracens! Through the darkness he saw the troops in the citadel struggling to retreat and the troops behind them pushing forward by light of their torches. It was a disaster! He had to rectify it. Grabbing an ivory horn attached to his panoply of equipment on his person he blew a signal of retreat. The signal of retreat was a sweet sound in the ears of Leo and the soldiers he fought with. He could hear the signal again, this time it had a sound of urgency to it. They finally realized the trouble that was unfolding and the Romans army stopped pressing forward.

Mutasim sat on his horse and watched with a placid tone in his face. He was satisfied by the surprise ambush, but that did not mean a victory despite the encouraging responses of his officers. Mutasim jolted his horse into action and rode through the ranks to the apex of the battle and yelled orders to his men:

“Push forward! Bring the battle outside of the walls! Keep charging”
They responded. The Saracens surged forward again and worked their way over the dead carcasses of Roman soldiers. Slowly but surely the Romans had retreated beyond the gates and were pressed in a merciless crush.

Justinian and his officers sat bemused on their mounts when they heard the retreat signal. A messenger interloping between the Emperor and the army gave him the message simply stated as:

”Surprise ambush, the Saracens want to bring the fight outside of the citadel”
“Let them come outside then. Quickly order the field commanders to quickly withdraw their troops and reform to meet the Saracens. We can’t save the soldiers in the frontlines but we can save the rest of our army from this chaos”

The messenger rode off to his field commanders.

Gripping his reins tightly, Justinian was nervous for the outcome of the battle. The midnight sky was working against him, he hoped that the discipline of his troops were enough to scrape a position of strength against the Muslim forces.

Ludens

01-05-2005, 14:33

Great story, kataphraktoi, though it is a bit of a pity that you post small bits.

What I would like to see is a bit more detail. For example the melee at the gate: all you say is that the archers are firing, the Saracens yelling and the Romans pushing. Perhaps we could get a close-up of what is happening? Off course, this is the way I like it, but this kind of thing slows the story down and your posting rate is slow enough already ~D .

The same comment applies to Leo and his mean sneaking through the city: you don't describe the part of them walking towards the citadel and you don't write at all about them barely escaping with their lives.

Anyway, great work and I hope there will be more.

kataphraktoi

02-08-2005, 14:45

I've been doing a summer course at uni for the last 6 weeks, apologies....sigh...life has its obligations. I will finish it. Only worry is time :(

kataphraktoi

02-08-2005, 14:47

I appreciate the comments Ludens, u got good points, believe me I will take it into consideration.

kataphraktoi

06-30-2005, 17:59

BATTLE OF TEPHRIKE AD 704, PT2
The Saracens charged again into the fray. Leo barely had time to keep himself upright against the changing mosaics of Arab faces, mail aventails, lit torches, flashing scimitars and the pale moonlight reflected on angry faces full of deadly intent. He constantly felt behind for any sign of movement while he frantically hacked and parried any Saracen blade before him. Twice, a scimitar flashed across his face. Twice, he could its presence. Rolling his eyes in frustration, he complained to Bogkhan:
“At that this rate, we’ll all be killed”
“A massacre, indeed.” Replied Bogkhan
Leo yelled to the Roman soldiers around him:
“Form a shield wall and stand your ground. We have to hold the line or we’ll all be killed”
Whatever Leo said became a tonic in the ears of the soldiers. Instead of slowly retreating, they stopped. They were waiting for an officer’s command.
Leo slipped through with his comrades behind the soldiers and ordered a shield wall:
“Shield wall boys. Lock them together and lets see them charge at us again”
Just as Leo gave the command, the Saracens once again connected with the frontal ranks of the Roman army. The shield wall barely stood up together, the lines of men forming the wall were thinly distributed. Another charge would show how weak the shield wall was without support from more ranks of soldiers retreating behind them.

Further behind Leo, the Roman soldiers behind him saw the thin beleaguered line of their comrades withholding a determined Saracen push behind them. A standard bearer was amongst those who watched this extraordinary rearguard action by Leo. The bearer was an experienced soldier who had fought bravely in many a frontal rank against the Saracens. It was his duty to make sure his comrades followed the standard and never let it fall into disgrace. This was a disgrace he thought to retreat and leave such soldiers behind.

Screw the command.

Without thinking he pushed his way into the small clearing between the front ranks of the army and the rest of the retreating army. He waved his comrades to follow him:
“Shame befalls the company that allows the standard of the Holy Christ to fall before the Hagarenes”
The retreating lines of Roman soldiers felt stung by the possibility of losing a precious standard and turned around to support their comrades. Leo felt the crush of eager soldiers behind him. Shield upon shield interlocked while rank upon rank of infantry backed each other in a depth of discipline and determination.

“For Christ and the his Holy Empire” yelled Leo.

“For Christ” yelled the soldiers.

The Saracens charged again after halting to regain more momentum in their continued advance. Like water against a solid wall, they failed to make an impact. Leo now ordered the soldiers to present their spears:
“Show them the points of your spears, the spears that defends an empire”

BATTLE OF TEPHRIKE AD 704, PT4
Something felt amiss, thought Mercurius. Why did the retreat fail to materialise? He couldn’t believe it. The army was moving forward not retreating. He turned to the Emperor excitedly:
“They’re moving forward. They’re moving forward Emperor. I can’t believe it”

Justinian loosened his grip on his reins then dropped it altogether:
“What has happened?”
Mercurius pointed to a messenger relaying a message on horseback.

“Sir, a message from one of our centarchs. He says the men are refusing to retreat. All the standard bearers are reversing their standards and moving forward. The men refuse to abandon the standards and are now moving forward. The centarch asks for further instructions”

Mercurius gripped the messenger on both shoulders and asked him the question:
“Who gave the order to advance?”

The messenger immediately answered Mercurius intent on averting his gaze at the general’s piercing eyes:
“I..I..I don’t know…I hear its some high ranking officer…some Syriac”

Mercurius relaxed his grip. He was stunned beyond recognition.

He blurted out one name only:

“Leo?”

The messenger immediately re-affirmed his recognition of the name:
“Yes, that’s him…Leo”

Justinian and his coterie of generals looked at each other with mixed gazes of amazement, disapproval and excitement. Justinian moved his mount forward and questioned the messenger.

“Are you sure it’s Leo?”

The messenger fastidiously nodded as if some kind of torch was applied to his skin.

Justinian scratched his chin and looked at Mercurius:

“Looks like your presence is needed general, you told me this lad was special. He will need your help now. I command it”

“Majesty” replied Mercurius as he bowed in obeisance. “I will take our elite mounted troops and have them march on foot and join the fray. It looks like we have to fight these Saracens to the death.”

Behind Mercurius was the steady and alert presence of the Justiniani, this he now supplemented with a further detachment of Pharganoi. Mercurius had grown to like them and they had grown to serve under his command with dedication and commitment. With a simple tap of his armoured glove on his shield, the combined elite of the Justiniani and Pharganoi stood to attention and with a stern and unnerving glare in their eyes awaited their orders.

“You won’t need any mounts this time. Dismount.”

The generals around Justinian protested, Valentinian, an elderly veteran spoke up:
"Majesty, is it wise to imperil the whole army because of some young foolhardy officer?"

Justinian lifted his metal visor and looked at Valentinian:
"We're not being imperilled. It looks like the Saracens are to me"

"Majesty" said Valentinian as he withheld himself from making any further comments. The other generals sat nervously on their mounts as they turned their gaze to the debacle unfolding.

Monk

06-30-2005, 18:22

*sees Kata's back in the hall*

*does double take* ~:eek: :dizzy2:

*does tripple take* ~:eek: ~:eek:

~:cheers: !! welcome back man. it's been a long time since i've seen you around. Still writing I see ~D

though since it's been so long, i admit i've forgotten alot of the story :book:

Welcome back to the hall in anycase. ~:)

kataphraktoi

07-02-2005, 02:12

thanks monk, I just couldn't find the time during uni.

BATTLE OF TEPHRIKE AD 704, PT5
Mutasim’s stratagem of surprise was frustrated. It seemed every good plan was frustrated by the Romans. His anger was all-consuming that no one dared approach him in a tenuous situation confronting the Saracens. Mutasim could only rub his forehead in vexatious rhythms as he struggled to find a way to snare victory from a stalemate.

One second he was in a state of apoplexy, the next, a time of contemplation. He was absorbed by the new possibilities now opening up in his mind:
“Bring the ballistas and any field artillery we have”

His sub-ordinates quickly rushed to fulfill their orders lest the contemplative interlude of their commander reverted back to the undesirable state of affairs they had experienced awhile ago.

The Saracens slowly retreated towards the Tephrikean gates. The Romans were too strong in their advancing lines. Missiles and javelins were hurled at the relentless march of the enemy who moved like a mobile fortress towards them. The proliferation of torches throughout the Roman ranks added a haunting aspect to the sound of marching feet and clashing metal.

Each step backwards seemed like an eternity for each Saracen. Each step was synchronized with their hopes of returning home. Victory was but a far-cry from a few months before. It was the last thing on their minds. A solitary Saracen leapt out of the ranks of his comrades and charged single-handedly against the Romans hoping his feats would inspire the rest of his army. But to no avail. His comrades were simply too overawed and stunned to rally to anything inspirational. The solitary Saracen was impaled by a number of spears and trampled on by serried rows of infantrymen.

The Romans now employed their own archers against the Saracen lines. Back and forth, arrows were exchanged in retaliatory fashion with the seemingly inevitable encroachment of the Roman army into the fortress and an ensuing massacre. Without warning or premonition, the Romans stopped in their tracks.

A gaping hole opened in the Saracen mass as if there was some kind of force pulling them inwards. A few Arabic orders were shouted by a mounted figure within the gates.

Mutasim deployed the first seven ballistas he had in his arsenal. He had appropriated from a Roman garrison awhile back and had no use for it till now. The handlers of the ballistae stood ready to attention waiting for the signal. They received it and released the first deadly hail against the hitherto unstoppable Roman advance.

kataphraktoi

07-02-2005, 02:44

BATTLE OF TEPHRIKE AD 704, PT6
Leo fell back like the rest of the infantrymen did when the first wave of ballistae sliced through their lines. He was instantly winded when a soldier in front of him landed on his chest. The lamellar and mail added to his troubles. With difficulty he had pushed the soldier away only to realise what happened. One of the ballistae had pierced through the poor soul’s skull to leave a singularly large hole where his forehead was. Leo crossed himself and rose to his feet. To his left and his right, the shield wall was in disarray. It felt like it was going to fall apart. Meanwhile, on the other side, the Saracens were now cheering and coaxing the Romans to advance further where another volley was prepared.
Leo had no choice to order the reformation of the shield wall:

Another wave of ballistae spear-points flew into the Roman lines. Groans and cries of agony muddled into one cacophony of sound. Leo ducked and raised his shield over his head. It was merely reactionary. There was no chance his shield could actually withstand such a powerful projectile. He could only yell out the order to fire arrows at the men handling the ballistae.

A few arrows were loosed in anger, but none had met the target. The Romans were hesitant in the face of a quick reversal of momentum. Dissonance soon riddled the fragile and volatile morale of the soldiers. Some were shouting retreat; others shouted back cries of cowardice at retreat. It didn’t change a thing. The Saracens continued the onslaught.

Mercurius and his elite troops carved a path through the masses of infantrymen eagerly awaiting the advance that had stalled. At the first sighting of Mercurius, the Romans made it point of immediately giving way through a combination of awe and fear of their general. After all, this was Mercurius: legendary general of many wars against the enemies of the empire and the commander of the Roman army’s most feared soldiers.

Like most soldiers, he already sensed a change in the situation of the Roman frontline. He realised something had once again gone amiss and realised it quickly as a fast-closing ballista spear-point opened a hole in the Roman lines. Instinctively, he ducked. The Justiniani behind him was unfortunate in not reacting quickly enough. His comrades steadied him as they tried to counter-act the enormous weight of the spear-point protruding through the guard’s left shoulder. Mercurius ordered the Justiniani guardsman to be taken back while ordering the rest to follow him. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw a handle of ballistae holding up the advance of a whole army. The obstacle between the Romans and the final battle for Anatolia was a handful of wood of metal.

There was no choice but to make a dangerous charge in the face of the ballistae and destroy the morale of the Saracen army tied to these dangerous weapons.

kataphraktoi

07-03-2005, 17:16

Battle of Tephrike, Part 7
Leo’s face was flat on the ground when a pair of gilded brown boots ran past his eyes. These were followed quickly by greave-sheathed pairs of legs. He looked up and saw Mercurius rushing headlong into the Tephrikean gates.
“How the hell did he get here so fast” was the only thought that raced through his mind.

Artabanus picked Leo up excitedly and could hardly contain his stunned apprehension:
“Look, Leo, Mercurius is leading the decisive charge”
Leo looked horrified as he stared into Artabanus’s distracted eyes:
“Its suicide, Artabanus”
Artabanus cracked a wry smile:
“What about that ‘shield wall’ order, wasn’t that suicidal”
“Uh…well…”
Artabanus roared heartily and patted Leo on the head:
“Don’t worry your young head, this is the stuff of legends and Mercurius is legendary is he not? Watch and learn, the bravest people are also the most insane, that’s how Mercurius became who he is”

The focus of Mercurius was interwhined with the muscles rippling across his sweaty brow. The taste of sweat added a bitter flavour to the grit and danger of war. Even more so, thought Mercurius, in the face of ballistae. He had learnt in the face of many a danger that courage fails in the face of focusing on the obstacle. The ballistae weren’t the obstacle, that wasn’t important. It was the victory: victory worth fighting for; victory worth dying for and victory worth running into the face of ballistae for.

The eyes of the Saracens behind the gates locked on Mercurius in a strangely slow and subdued manner. For many of them it was pure and simple mesmerisation. They had heard the stories of the great general. Had they not heard from their ancestors who once followed the faith of the Romans of the warrior saint called Mercurius. From the stories they heard about this particular madman charging into their armed midst, they could not decide whether it was a man facing them or some divine apparition in human flesh.

As soon as Mercurius had slayed the first ballistae handler, their mesmerisation were ruptured by the onslaught of reality. The last roll of their dice: their ballistae were hacked to pieces by a suicidal charge. And while their attention was drawn to Mercurius they had failed to realise the regiment he had commanded in his charge. It was the Pharganoi and the Justiniani.

The expected outcome was the same. The ferocity of the Pharganoi and their cursed Rhompaia always struck fear into the Saracens for whom a spear or a scimitar was not effective enough to touch a Pharganoi’s body while avoiding the dangerous blade. Even if contact was made, there were the layers of padded quilt, lamellar and mail to penetrate before causing a mortal wound. Unfortunately, far too few had the luxury of causing one.

Leo now realised the opportunity that Mercurius’s dangerous charge had opened up for the Roman army. The Saracen morale and resistance had finally been broken. Now was the time to confirm it in its entirety. Goading others around him, he shouted the order to storm the citadel as he swung his drawn saber in wild revolutions. He needn’t had tried any harder. The Romans poured through the gates like some unstoppable flood. Crying chants of victory and God, they cheerfully hacked and bludgeoned through the Saracen soldiers fleeing or futilely attempting to stem the tide that had begun. The fortune of the Romans ascended like a star shining the firmament. The Saracen crescent had waned slightly these past few weeks.

Mutasim faced a desperate battle for his life. With his remaining Ghulam bodyguards he stormed into the path of the relentless Roman tide. He vowed to die fighting and intended to stay true to it with every Ghulam laying their lives to do the same. Their cause was holy and noble. They were fighting for their faith and on behalf of the faithful. Like a man possessed of some unearthly spirit, he proceeded to dig deeper into the Roman lines hacking and slashing as far as his arms would allow. His eyes were sparkling with a divine madness as his cries froze the blood of the victorious enemy. He soon lost his a sense of self-control. He could only see moving blurred images of eyes, swords and spears meshed into one cauldron of confusion. His hands were moving on their own accord indiscriminately plunging its cold steel into as many soft bodies as possible. After so many lives taken, it felt warm and slippery. Mutasim soon collapsed onto the ground. The world went cold. His consciousness slipped away slowly. One lasting image burned itself into his mind. He had seen it before. It was him. It was the Syrian boy. Those sad haunting eyes staring back imploringly. Looking for something, someone…lost.

kataphraktoi

07-03-2005, 17:28

Wow, I read some early chapters and realised how long they are.

Seems I need to get some down time with Leo and churn out some large amount of stuff.

This is like the first time I've piosted in 4 months. I thought my account was gone....

Evil_Maniac From Mars

07-03-2005, 20:12

VERY good story. Very entertaining.

The Wizard

07-04-2005, 00:05

Shit, I was like "hey, who dragged this up from the graveyard?", only to see it was kata himself ~D

Byzantium for teh win!

~Wiz

discovery1

07-04-2005, 07:00

Excellent update.

kataphraktoi

07-14-2005, 09:35

CALM AFTER WAR PT 1

“Look what I found here” cried an elated soldier as he worked his way into the inevitable looting that occurred after the capture of an enemy citadel.
The soldier cradled the amphora of wine in his hands like some godsend. To the amusement of his comrades, he kissed the amphora.
“I haven’t tasted wine since I left Tzrullum”
An elderly veteran behind tapped him on the shoulder and reminded him that neithered had all the other soldiers from Tzullurum.
The thought of sharing dampened his spirits. His countenance then brightened as he remembered to his convenience another cache of wine.
“Well…if you look in that house, you’ll find a few more left standing in the corner”
Without requiring any further word, the smattering of soldiers dispersed.
“The fools” grinned the soldier.

Just as he was about to walk off with his find, he froze in his tracks at the sight of a noble company before him. Immediately, he kneeled on the ground and made his obeisance in the manner expected before sovereigns:
“A fine amphora of wine, soldier”
“Fit for a lord like you, majesty” said the soldier as he pushed his gotten gain towards the armoured feet of Justinian.
Justinian chuckled and crouched near the soldier’s ear:
“You deserve it, but if you insist, I’ll recompense you with a brooch”
“As the Emperor wishes” quibbled the soldier as he stared at the jeweled brooch dropped before his nose in the dirt.

Mercurius picked up the amphora of wine and held it proudly above his head:
“A fine vintage to be sure. Look at the date of this wine. As far back as your great-grandfather’s time”
Justinian gestured with his hand towards the Imperial tent pitched in the highest point of Tephrike:
“Shall we investigate this matter further?”
Mercurius bowed exaggeratedly:
“Of course, of course”
Justinian slapped Mercurius on the shoulder and pushed him forward while looking back at his personal guardsmen nearby:
“Come, you too shall share of the Emperor’s bounty”
A roar emitted from the guardsmen.

Meanwhile, the soldier who had found the wine stared wide-eyed at the brooch. He could not believe his luck, an Emperor’s brooch…
As he was about whoop in joy, he was surrounded by his comrades who he sent on a merry chase for non-existent wine.
“Well, well…Nicetas has a little forked tongue that needs to be cut out”
Nicetas shrugged awkwardly and quickly thought of détente to save his tongue:
“Hey look, I…uh…was only joking. Look what the Emperor gave me, I’m sure I could get a good price for this at the market in Constantinople and buy my…uh…brothers…a meal or two…or something”
Nicetas laughed nervously as his hometown comrades closed in on him.
Suddenly laughter abounded and a few reassuring pats on the shoulder calmed Nicetas.
The veteran who spoke to Nicetas earlier casually remarked that they would remember what he had promised. If he should renege, they’ll all kill him. The veteran and the other soldiers erupted into another peal of hearty laughter. Everyone except Nicetas was laughing.

kataphraktoi

07-14-2005, 09:36

CALM AFTER WAR PT2:
Justinian whistled through his teeth while sitting across the table from Mercurius. The two of them hardly had touched their wine. The rest of the amphora was emptied by the guardsmen outside of the dingy room Mutasim had used before.
“We have now ascended to the peak of the mountain with victory. What awaits us now down the mountain?” sighed Justinian.
“Yes, there is much uncertainty. Yet, we know what must be done.”
Justinian nodded:
“Like every end of a campaign. Repair the land, repair the army, repopulate the land, repair the economy and repair our sanity”
“You forgot one more important thing” quizzed Mercurius.
“And that is…?”
“Your son.”
“Ah, my son. My son. When we left, Theodora was pregnant. By now we should have a son or a daughter. I wonder what he look like, a Khazar, or a Roman?” mused Justinian.
Mercurius quipped cheekingly:
“I should think that he or she would look every inch and bundle, an Emperor or Empress” Justinian scratched his chin and smiled:
“I should think so too”

“So” quizzed Mercurius again. “What are we to do of this young Leo the Syrian?”
“He’s too good to be a cavalry officer. He shows a touch of talent, he exudes leadership. He follows after a particularly legendary Goth I know”
Mercurius grinned:
“Ha. Be careful what you say, the Roman Empire is not big enough for two Mercurius-es”
“What you say is true Mercurius. Suppose we expanded the empire?”
“Then the world will cringe in fear”
“From your boastings or from your sword?”
“True, Justinian. But for now, I think that this Leo will need to be trained to be a high-ranking military officer. Would an apprenticeship under my guidance be too much? As a Syrian, he could be useful for intelligience services against the Saracens. He could easily pass as one of them.”
“There will be plenty of training in the next year or so. That traitor Exarch in Ravenna has just declared his independence with full support by the Pope. Recently he sent an ‘emissary’ demanding to be recognised as ‘Western’ Roman Emperor. If his demands are not met, the Pope would be asked to crown him instead. You believe that? The Pope. He would never dare. I am considering sending Leo under the guidance of Oryphas the Eunuch to bring that dog back to Constantinople.”
“An expedition for next year? A bit too soon, yet, not a moment too late.” Commented Mercurius.
“Yes, it seems hasty. But we must keep the empire unified.”
Mercurius at last raised his cup:
“To unity and eternal concern of Empire”
“Amen” replied Justinian.
“Right now, a salute to the wine and the winemaker” mocked Mercurius as he collapsed from the table.
Justinian peered over the table:
“He must of abstained from wine as a monk. Must be his first touch in years” he thought to himself. He thought of ordering the Pharganoi outside to carry Mercurius but thought the better of it. They must be drunk by now as well.

CALM AFTER WAR PT3:
“Leo, Leo, Leo, Leo”
Leo spun around and couldn’t contain his surprise.
“Petrus. Calliopas. Narses…how did you?”
“We enlisted in the army when we heard about the one and only Leo of Germanicea making a name for himself” replied Petrus as he pretended to imitate Leo by striking a heroic pose with his chest jutting out.
“Cut it out Petrus. You shame me”
“How so, hero?” teased Petrus.
“Don’t you remember? How could you forget the lovely and beautiful Kasia from our little Thracian village?”
Petrus mockingly looked in the sky scratching his head dumbly then feigned recollection then hissed a reply:
“Oh……….yesssssssss”
“Cut that evil grin from your face, I can’t tell the difference between you and a demon”
Petrus playfully spun his sword around and hastened to retell that infamous incident from their hometown in Thrace by putting on a fake accent of an excited storyteller:
“Remember lads, how our young friend here was talking to Kasia in his fine tunic and his lovely lovely combed hair.
Oh yes, how the girls fawned at his curly dark Syrian hair and his tanned olive skin. The man about town, or should it be humble village?
But Kasia, she did not fawn nor yield to Leo’s magic charm. As I recall, she giggled as Leo was attempting to impress her. Lo, and behold. The ever clever Petrus.
Riding on his horse, he rode past Leo and ripped the tunic of his head. Did you hear that? Ripped the tunic from off his head. How could such a feat be performed?
It seems our impressive friend here forgot his belt.
Petrus, the wise and clever genius reminded Leo in a manner he would not forget, nor would Kasia”
Leo shook his head in disbelief:
:”Yea, I could not forgot it. How embarrassing it was. Kasia lost herself as she couldn’t control her laughter. Her mother just happened to pass us by and saw me without my tunic. Only my gold necklace.
She dragged Kasia and forbid her to ever talk to me. For the next week or two she begged the local priest to expel the demon of incubus and succubus in me”
Petrus, Calliopas and Narses all laughed. Calliopas especially was inconsolable as he rolled in the dirt. Meanwhile Narses threw his helmet onto the ground.
Petrus strutted around Leo:
“Now you have to put up with us”
Leo wryly smiled and feign forgetfulness on his part:
“Oh hey, I forgot to tell you. I’m your superior officer”
Petrus starred in a befuddled way. Calliopas stopped rolling in the dirt. Narses gathered his helmet up from the dirt.
Petrus sheepishly brushed his hair:
“Uh…yeah.”
“Bah, forget it. Today we’re friends…tomorrow I’ll have you washing the undergarments of the Pharganoi” smiled Leo and he spread his arms to embrace his friends.
Petrus, Calliopas and Narses looked at each other and wondered what they got themselves into.

kataphraktoi

07-14-2005, 09:44

CALM AFTER WAR PT4:
Khan Aspurakhan’s Khazar army was happily occupied in ravaging Saracen territory after the news of Tephrike reached his ears. The Saracen borderlands were defenceless, his Khazars, insatiably voracious at the prospect of loot and plunder. For the next few weeks or so, his men amassed rich booty from defenceless cities. However, in view of his alliance with a Christian, he made sure churches were unmolested. Requests by Christians in Saracen territory to be escorted to Roman territory were granted and were under Khazar protection. It was only when Justinian sent a messenger to Aspurakhan’s that his army stopped their ravaging.

Many years from now, many a Muslim writer would mourn the destruction of northern Mesopotamia and the Azerbaijan. Doubtless many years from now, there would be many wars between the Caliphate and the Khaganate of Khazar.

Khan Aspurakhan was in an embullient mood when he greeted his brother in law with a kiss and embrace between sovereigns.
A celebratory feast was commenced by the joining of the two armies. For three days, the atmosphere was jubilant in the mutilated fortress of Tephrike. It was a hard won war for the Romans. The future was in their hands now.

When the time came for departure, Aspurakhan promised Justinian the delivery of his family. Since he was busy in the fighting with Justinian, he too had not been present at the birth of Justinian’s child. He too, would not know whether it was an heir or an heiress.
At the recaptured Roman city of Colonea, the armies went their separate ways. Justinian turned to face west where his capital lay. He had not seen Constantinople in years. How he loved the richness of the city. An enviable treasurehouse of God and gold. How he missed the perfumes of the palaces and daily hustle and bustle of the downtown markets. And those walls, the triple mighty walls. How he longed to feel secure in them as well.
Throughout the long journey home: he pleasantly recalled a poem from a Roman official who had to leave the capital on business:

“Oh, the great city. Lovely and mighty.
That I should part from your embrace is like exile
Your walls are like a bastion in my heart
There I lay within your divine protection
The smell, the sights and the taste of the great city
Theotokos protect her while I am gone
May she be there always even if I die
Oh, the great city, God and gold abounds within,
Glory and radiance emanates without”

AFFAIRS OF THE STATE PT 1 (AD 707)
RETURN TO CONSTANTINOPLE
Justinian remembered it clearly. The first time he had re-entered the glorious city was still fresh in his mind like a fresh breeze blowing across his face. It felt the same way in his second triumphant entry into the city. The news had spread far and wide of the successes against the Saracens. From the sound that roared from the coarse throats of the Constantinopolitans, it seemed as if every citizen in the empire was in the bursting throng that lined the road that lead to the Golden Gate. In the morning brilliance that rose across the Bosphorus skyline, Justinian let out a gasp at the sight of the Golden Gate. He had seen it a hundred times before, but had taken it for granted. After a resounding victory, it looked more beautiful than ever.

Justinian and his army absorbed the glory that was theirs on that particular morning. After a long triumphant march down the Mese, Justinian arrived at last to the Great Palatial complex. It was only after he had dropped into his bed did he realised how tired he truly was: physical, mentally and spiritually.
“Oh God, grant me rest” he cried out then closed his eyes.

He had not realised it, but he had slept the whole day into the next morning. The Chamberlain Montanus helped robed Justinian in the proper attire. As Justinian walked across to the window facing the sister city of Chalcedon, he saw himself in the same position a few years ago when pondered the future of his empire as he prepared to march against the Saracens. He was not marching against the Saracens now. He was fighting against the enemies within like the traitorous Exarch of Ravenna. He was also fighting the chronic shortage of funds to pay for reconstructive work. Even with Khazar gold, he could not hope to keep the Roman economy afloat indefinitely. All these problems started to sink in after the celebration of victory. The daily grind of life wore itself into his heart and his mind.

Breathing deeply he reminded himself about how he was ordained by God to be Emperor. He was the representative of Christ on earth. If he was chosen, surely God must have given him the faculties to be wise and prudent in ruling an empire.

On the first acts of the day was to summon the soldiers who distinguished themselves in the Saracen Wars. A hundred men or so lined up in a pink marble hall reserved for this occasion. Mercurius stood next to Justinian as he recounted the heroic deeds of each brave soldier and the officers who recommended them. Some were given commissions as guardsmen into the Justiniani. Others were given medals and titles with a guaranteed annuity of gold each year. However, some were more outstanding than others. In this case, a tall and tanned Syrian standing last in the line of distinguished soldiers.
Upon seeing the young Syrian, the Emperor whispered to Mercurius:
“Is this the one? Haven’t we met before”
“Yes, it is him” replied Mercurius
Justinian had the rest of the dismissed except for Leo. Leo stood still while all the rest filed out. He could feel some of the envy that emanated from their stares.

After it was empty, only the Emperor, Mercurius, Leo and the Pharganoi guardsmen were left. Justinian asked the young Syrian to follow him to another room. It was an amazing room, thought Leo. The roof was covered in blue mosaic with a large gold mosaic in the middle of it. Red rubies were even studded into the gold cross itself. While Leo stood gawking at such a sight, Mercurius coughed to grab Leo’s attention. Leo composed himself with a reserve of embarrassment. Justinian simply laughed it off.
“My young man, we meet again. Last time we met, you were a guardsman in my palace. I showed you the window across the Bosphorus. I told you that what you saw was the future. I now look at you and see the future. Your name, it rings in my ear continuously. You are fine Roman material. Worthy, I think, of another promotion. Your position as a cavalry officer is too good for a man of your capabilities. Mercurius has recommended to me a position that has been newly created. It has been awhile since the Gothograeci regiment has seen any action. I believe it is time for a new chapter in their history.”
Justinian then looked at Mercurius and gestured for him to proceed.

Mercurius stepped forward.
“You will also have a new title of Comes of the Gothograeci. These men were disbanded by Artemianus a while back. They have been retraced allover the empire and will need a new commander. I am pleased that they will be a force to be reckoned with again.
As a Comes official, you have the privileges of access to the Imperial arsenal where all your arms and armour requirements shall be met. You will also be paid from the treasury. It is not much right now, but later it will be increased.”
Leo bowed and accepted his new commission.
Justinian then changed his tone from a fatherly one to a stern one:
“If you succeed, there are opportunities for you. I see in you a wise and cunning Syrian. May be successful under the watchful eye of the blessed Mother”
“Yes, my Majesty”
Justinian held out his hand for Leo to kiss.
Leo held into the hand and kissed the Imperial ring with the Holy Laborum engraved in it.

kataphraktoi

07-14-2005, 09:51

AFFAIRS OF THE STATE PT 2
COMES GOTHOGRAECI
Leo left the palace as quickly as possible. He could not believe his fortune in the last few years. He thought he was fortunate, but this was plainly ridiculous in his opinion. As soon as he stepped into the courtyard he was mobbed by imperial servants of the Emperor who rushed him into a room where he decked in the clothes of his new office. It was a fine and handsome costume of blue lined with generous gold linen sewn into the clothe. Around his neck was a simple gold necklace with a ruby connected to it. As he ventured to walk outside of the room, he was swiftly taken away by two tough looking men into the Imperial Arsenal.

The Imperial Arsenal was an impressive building to be sure. It was a rectangular building with an immense courtyard of while limestone and brick cremellated with red. Inside the courtyard was a line of five men of tall stature. They all had fair hair and light eyes – much like Mercurius.

The tallest and strongest of the men stepped forward and bowed courteously:
“Comes Gothograeci Leo, we welcome you and serve you with much anticipation”
Leo was taken aback at his new role and authority.
“When I was a young man, I had heard about the Gothograeci. I never thought I would command them”
“God works mysteriously does he not” joked the tall one.
Leo nodded in awe of the Goth who towered over him despite his own tallness.
“We are kinsmen of Mercurius. When the order was given for our re-formation, he insisted that you become our commander. I hear we are to follow you to Italy as well under your command.”
‘That is true.” confirmed Leo.
The tall step forward again and now formally introduced the six other men in the courtyard:
“I am Germanus, this is Arbogast, Wildmerich, Eraric, Ermanarich, and the two men who dragged you here are Alexius and Theophilus. You may note that we still retain our Gothic names, but for Goths like Alexius and Theophilus, they are absorbed into the Roman culture than we are.
We have lived in Bithynia for centuries, so it should be no surprise as to our distinct presence amongst Romans for we too consider ourselves Romans. As you should be aware by now Mercurius is a Goth himself, part of the Gothic communities that still live in the mountains overlooking Cherson.”
“Come, enough of my history lessons!” laughed Germanus. “We will take you through the Imperial Arsenal. In this place, you will choose your armament, as will we for ourselves and for the rest of the Gothograeci much later.”

After passing through a heavily guarded gate, they entered another heavily guarded second gate. Once they passed the third gate they entered into a neatly arrayed line of arms and armour.

Leo gasped at the size of this enviable inventory of fine weapons.
“As you see” Arbogast pointed out. “There are many different kinds of things here with influences from every ethnikoi. The armour you have been wearing recently has been influenced by the Avars and Persians.”
Germanus grabbed Leo by the arm and showed him one section of the Arsenal of interest to him.
“Look, Leo. This is the part of the Arsenal reserved for officers like you only”
Leo walked slowly as he approached and touched a fine lamellar cuirass of gold:
“I cannot believe my eyes. I thought only the Emperor wore gold in battle”
“That’s because no one wants to be picked off in battle by the richness of their armour. The protection is offset by the way it attracts enemies” laughed Germanus.
Leo continued to be amazed at the cuirass:
“It even contains a small icon of St. Michael. This is incredible.”
It was now Alexius’s turn to grab Leo’s attention:
“That is not suited to you, look at this one”
Leo transferred his gaze from the gold cuirass another cuirass.
“What about this one?”
“Oh nothing, it will keep you alive” whistled Alexius.
“Okay, I won’t select the gold cuirass. But I should at least have something nice”
“Of course, what officer doesn’t?” sympathised Germanus.
Leo folded his arms and thought hard about what he would choose.
“Alright, how about this one? The craftsmanship on this particular set of armour caught his eye. It was complete set from head to toe and featured no extravagant gilding except for its brilliant finish and shine.
Germanus beamed:
“An excellent choice. Try it on”

Leo was nearly overwhelmed by the completeness of the armour:
“I cannot believe how heavy this is. This is heavier than my Kaballarika armament”
“Nothing to worry about Comes Leo, you haven’t been in battle for a week. You have to get use to wearing armour again” assured Germanus.
Arbogast step forwarded and knocked on the breast area of the cuirass:
“One more thing Comes Leo”
“What is that Arbogast?”
“This” said Arbogast as he stretched out a leather strap.
“We use this so that your cuirass won’t fall off” grinned Theophilus.

Leo felt the air being squeezed from his lungs as the leather strap was tightened around his cuirass.
“Perfect” exclaimed Germanus. “Now you are a real Comes Gothograeci. Let us proceed to weapons you shall carry beside that saber you already carry”

Eraric rushed to the weapons section of the Arsenal and retrieved a number of items for his commander.
“What do you think of these Comes Leo?”
Leo stared in amazement at the Bow and Quiver, his Gothic assistant gave him. It was a fine leather bow gilded with gold and carved with intricate designs.
“This is fabulous” said Leo.
“It use to be Belisarius’”
Leo stared in shock:
“The Thracian?”
“Yes” nodded Eraric. “And his golden lance”
Leo reached out and held the lance as if it was some holy relic. Like a child, he was dazzled by its great craft and manufacture.
Eraric then handed Leo a mace with six blunt edges adorned on its head.
“This is a recent addition to the arsenal. The Emperor has commissioned maces to be manufactured by the Imperial foundry. They are based on those used by the School of the Excubitores.”
“And finally” exclaimed Eraric. “Your shield”
“Belisarius’?” asked Leo.
“No” replied Eraric bluntly. “It use to belong to the previous commander of the Gothograeci. And now we give it to you.”
“Welcome to the elite world of military command Comes Gothograeci Leo” said Germanus as he and all his men lifted him in full armour on their shoulders and paraded him out of the Imperial Arsenal.
“Where are you taking me now?” questioned Leo.
“To the Gothograeci regimental barracks to meet your men of course!” answered Ermanaric.

kataphraktoi

07-14-2005, 09:53

AFFAIRS OF STATE PT3
FORMALISATION OF THE IMPERIAL FAMILY
The Khazar flagship sailed into the Golden Horn heavily escorted by the Emperor’s best ships. Onboard this sturdily built vessel was personnel of importance to Justinian: his wife and his child. Justinian waited by his private dock built into the palatial complex of the Great Palace as the ship sailed closer. At last, a plank was placed onto the dock.
Justinian heart raced in anticipation for what he waited for.

Stepping onto the plank was a smiling woman holding a child.

“Theodora*” cried Justinian as he outstretched his arms to embrace his wife as she stepped onto the marble floor of the dock. “It has been too long.”
“Far too long my love” replied Theodora.
“I have dreamt of this moment in many a battle against the enemy. To see you, and to see my child”
Theodora passed the child into Justinian’s adoring arms.
As the small bundle was passed to him, Justinian’s arms began to shake in nervousness.
“Is it a boy or girl?”
“It is a boy, you have an heir to the Roman throne”
“And his name?”
“Tiberius”
“Ah, Tiberius. You will make a fine sovereign one day. Born of noble Roman blood and the martial prowess of the Khazars running through your veins*”

The next day, the Justinian with his imperial family celebrated their first Christmas in the Roman capital. News of the imperial family was a cause for celebration in Constantinople for the populace. In the Hagia Sophia, the populace, as many as could be accommodated pressed at the silver gates of the church to listen and partake of the service held by the Patriarch Sergius. All the notables, luminaries and high-ranking officials were present. It was a spectacular menagerie of silk, gold and jewels in the open space of the church underneath the overpowering and glittering gold dome of the building.
As the liturgy was chanted by the Patriarch, a reverberating atmosphere of excitement filled the air as the young heir prince of the Roman empire was baptized formally for the first time. Sergius’ words echoed powerfully and solemnly
“In the name of Christ, the life-giver, the Saviour and the all-Powerful. I consecrate unto thee this child in they service and worship. Thrice-blessed Trinity watch over his soul. Kyrie Eleison grant mercy to all of us. Amen”
“Amen” repeated the attendees.
Sergius gently poured water over the head of the baby before it was wrapped up in the arms of the notable local saint Anastasius of Caesarea who then pronounced a blessing of his own before handing it to the Empress Theodora. Justinian was standing to her right with one hand over her shoulder. He couldn’t stop smiling at such a joyous occasion.
On a blessed day like this, there was more to come that would sustain his jubilation.
The service was also the formal recognition of the Imperial family.
It wasn’t just protocol to invite the well-known dignitaries of the empire and the capital to the Christmas service. It was an opportunity to reveal to them their Empress and future Emperor.
Sergius’ deacon carried a silk cushion with a purple damask clothe covered over a circular object underneath.
With no dramatic effect, Sergius simply removed the clothe and announced to everyone inside the church, the crown of the Empress. Wrought by the skilled Jewish artisans in the Pera quarter, it was a startling collection of enameled images and thickly encrusted jewelry with long strings of pearls hanging loosely along the bottom rim of the crown.
Sergius first blessed the crown then handed it to Justinian, who in tow waited for his wife to kneel before him.
Once the Empress kneeled before Justinian, the crown was lowered on her head. Justinian offered his right hand to Theodora who gently elevated herself with his aide.
The same deacon brought in another crown, this time it was smaller – more suited for child.
Sergius duly blessed it and passed it to Justinian who gently placed it on his son’s head.

The guardsmen and the generals in the church began to applause and acclaim the joint rule Justinian, Theodora and Tiberius. Soon they were imitated by the populace outside of the church. The cries of:
“Hail Justinian, Hail Theodora and Hail Tiberius*” circulated around the city throughout the day and could still be heard for weeks on end throughout the empire.

Leo and Mercurius stood next to each other in the church. Both had noticed some other dignitaries had maintained a grim face throughout the service and ceremony. There was talk inside the capital about disgruntlement of a Roman Emperor marrying an outsider. It was simply sacrilege. No Roman Emperor in the history of the empire had done such an act. As usual, they took note and but took no action. It was not only the offended statesmen and bureaucrats, but also among some of the populace who deeply believed in roman traditions. However, on this solemn Christmas day, they were not heard. If there was one thing everyone agreed upon was this: the Roman Empire will never be the same again. Old traditions have been broken; new precedence has been created; new ties forged in iron and newer and dangerous enemies to face.

kataphraktoi

07-14-2005, 09:57

There ya go, I forgot how much new stuff I posted.

Enjoy. This is the events after the war. Things cool down a bit and then...thank goodness...we get onto the next set of chapters titled: "The Rise of Leo" this will be the4 biggest and largest set of chapters on the Syrian.

discovery1

07-14-2005, 22:05

Great update. Can some userrper be expected to challege the childs throne due to ancestry?

kataphraktoi

07-15-2005, 08:42

I dunno :D

We'll just have to see

kataphraktoi

01-05-2006, 14:16

Rise of Leo:
Italian Expedition

“Comes Leo we are ready to follow your orders”

Leo untied the cloak around his shoulders for his retainer to fold it into a neat square behind him. His select force of Gothograeci was waiting for him in a secluded underground drainage system roughly hewn into southern side of Ravenna’s near impregnable walls. It was a perfect night for such a covert operation. Breathing the crisp night air deeply, he recalled a similar mission as a few years ago as a young cavalryman.

Feeling for the reassurance of a crucifix, he strode towards his men.

“Men, it is as our local guide said. Tonight is a particularly foggy night. The garrison inside will be disadvantaged for a few hours until the morning, but that is all that is needed. We’ve been fighting on Italy for 2 years now. I am sure you are eager to return home to your wives and your children. You will soon.”

In the moonlight night underneath Ravenna’s huge walls, the Gothograeci could feel the warmth and genuineness of their commander’s words. They bowed in respect and proceeded to enter the dark opening of the drainage system. When all of them had entered Leo followed after them.

The atmosphere inside Ravenna was an uneasy cold silence. The rebel Exarch ordered a strict curfew throughout the city on pain of death for any who defied the order. The only sounds that could be heard were the footsteps of regular patrolling soldiers in the city. In some quarters where soldiers found an easier workload, they were loud roisterings that echoed through the otherwise quiet streets.

Germanus, the leading Gothograeci in the sewer reached the end of the drainage system to a moonlit basement. To their surprise, there were no iron grills across the drainage hall. One by one they crawled out onto the basement. Leo emerged last to be assisted by his men.

“Comes, our guide was correct once again. We need only to climb these stairs
to find ourselves on the streets of Ravenna”

Ït is indeed. It is amazing how fast gold can talk” Leo wryly commented.

“All well for us then”replied Germanus.

“The Exarch’s residence is nearby from here. It is unfortunate that we could not bring our cuirasses with us. But that is no loss; these leather corselets should provide adequate protection.”

Leo led his select procession up the stairs as fast as possible while being cautious to keep as quiet as possible. The stairs led to a dank and smelly alley that led into a wide open street. Leo poked his head out to scan his immediate surroundings. No one. Not a soul. But his instinct restrained him for a few more seconds. He then heard some footsteps in their infancy a few metres ahead. A patrol of 10 men marched down the street that went past the alley. With a simple wave, he signaled his men to lay low and not draw their weapons. The small patrol went past them without a hint of the enemy who hid in the alley next to them. When Leo was satisfied, he ordered his men to follow him.

The two guards in front of the Exarch’s house provided a token resistance as Leo and his men stealthy disposed of them with two arrows. As they approached the gates of the house, Leo noticed an Imperial insignia placed on the gates. An act of a pretender Emperor, he thought. With a small knife, Leo pried open the gate’s locks with nonchalant ease. Surveying around him again, he opened the gates silently and ordered his men to make haste.

Drawing their weapons, they made their way around what looked like the back of the Exarch’s house. There was light inside. It was the kitchen.

“Önly servants” whispered Germanus to Leo.

“Don’t hurt them Germanus. They don’t concern us. Understand?”

“Yes sir” replied his men.

Leo calmly walked into the kitchen of his enemy’s house before a startled staff of servants with his men behind him. Raising his hand, Leo spoke to them in an assuring voice:
“Worry not. My men will harm you. Co-operate with us and you will be set free”

One of the servants who appeared to be supervising servant stepped forward and bowed to Leo.

“I am Spondylius, head servant of the Exarch. Are you the Comes Leo?”

“Ï am.” replied Leo.

Immediately, the servants reached for knives, utensils and whatever articles that could serve as weapons.

“WARN THE EXARCH!! IT IS THE ENEMY!!!!” screamed Spondylius.

Before, he could utter another word; one of the Gothograeci cleaved him through the shoulders instantly killing him. Others followed as Leo and his men killed the rest of the servants who resisted them.

“They shouldn’t have resisted” sighed Leo.

“It doesn’t matter now Comes Leo. We must get the Exarch” said Germanus.

“You’re right Germanus. Men! Let us find the Exarch before we find ourselves in a horrible predicament”

Leo sent Germanus with 5 men to find the Exarch upstairs while he commanded the rest to search the rooms on the ground level. Little noise was made in the search for the Exarch as the need to keep ambiguous behind enemy lines became imperative. Leo sat in one of the Exarch’s sofas and waited for the Exarch to be led before him. When Germanus appeared on the balcony, the look in his eyes confirmed what he feared the worse.

“The Exarch is not up here.”

Another Gothograeci appeared before Leo and repeated the same.

Leo looked up to Germanus. “Ï think we may have stepped into a trap”

The attention of Leo and his men were soon drawn to the noise outside of the Exarch’s house. Leo walked to one of the windows and peered out into the moonlit garden courtyard of the Exarch’s house.

“I think we have our Exarch boys. And he’s not alone”

The other Gothograeci peered outside the window as well. One of the Gothograeci, Alexius, uttered in amazement as he recognized on of the faces with the Exarch: “Its our spy! He’s with them. He must have followed us, that worm!”

Leo stepped back. “Doesn’t matter now”

The Exarch was pleased with himself as he stood outside in his own garden. He mused to himself the genius of trapping his enemy inside his house. His only regret was his ‘servants’ who were in actuality assassins. Tugging the collar underneath his golden lamellar to make himself comfortable, he directed his second in command Andreas to set fire to the house.

“Make them burn in hell Andreas!”

Andreas balked. “But your majesty, your house?”

“Who needs a house? As Emperor I need a palace! I have one built for me on the east end of the city near the port. Let this burn. It’s a worthy funeral pyre” laughed the Exarch.

“Äs you wish, Majesty” said Andreas.
Andrea took a torch from his aide and signaled his men surrounding the house to prepare to set it alight. Andreas threw the first torch which landed in the front porch of the house. His men followed in a similar fashion around the house.

Ludens

01-05-2006, 15:18

This is a welcome sight! kataphraktoi's back and he's continuing his story.

I admit I have forgotten many of the stories details by now, but thanks for continuing it anyway.

kataphraktoi

01-07-2006, 17:14

Monk

01-10-2006, 12:53

Yeah, I know its been ages since I've touched the story, but I'm still determined ti finish it. Right now Im racking my brains to see how Leo breaks out of the house :D I do have an idea but I deleted it from the document....

What matters the most is that you're still with it, so long as the creative spark survives, a story can thrive. :2thumbsup:

AntiochusIII

01-13-2006, 04:06

Obviously I have not seen the specter of a ghost!? :2thumbsup:

Oh, bless be the Muses, Leo III the Syrian is alive! Kewl.

Remember, kataphraktoi, according to us Byzantine fanatics the Byzantines pwns all. :laugh4: Good luck on this new round of writing. Little plot stonewalls cannot stop an inspired creative spirit like yours. You have inspired me to...

...*the bang of a gun, somebody cried dead*...shhh...

Never mind. ~D

kataphraktoi

07-25-2006, 15:34

Italian Expedition (709) Part 2:

Germanus stepped forward and ordered two other Gothograeci to look around the Exarch’s mansion to look for any underground passage ways. “Look for some underground cellar if possible, we may be able to hide there while this house is being burnt down”.
“Lord” affirmed Arbogast and Eraric.
After giving the orders, Germanus turned to Leo and found to his surprise that Leo was deep in thought scratching his chin with his mailed glove.
“Saint Mercurious! How can you be so calm when this house is about to burn us on the spit?” gasped Germanus
“This whole rebellion hinges on Exarch Theodore right?” asked Leo.
“Yes, but…”
“So…I need two archers” interrupted Leo
Germanus then twitched with realisation. He understood how this Leo thinks. A subtle intelligent mind in a young body. Remarkable, thought Germanus. Just remarkable.
“Alexius!” shouted Germanus.
“Yes?”
“Besides you, who else is good with the bow?” asked Leo
“Well there is my brother Gainas here with me” replied Alexius.
“Good. I want you and your brother to go up to the upper room of this house and get a clear shot at the Exarch but don’t make yourself seen yet. Ok?”
“Yes, sir” nodded Alexius.
Alexius called for his brother and they both proceeded up the Exarch’s marbled stairs into his room.

Outside the Exarch’s house
“Germanus, if we can’t find an underground room, we’ll have to fight our way out.”
To Germanus, it was more of an intention than a query or thought.
“Of course, my axe is ready and waiting”
“As is my sword Germanus” said Leo as he withdrew it.

“How long will it take to know if they have been burnt ?”
“Not too sure lord, three perhaps four hours?” answered Andreas.
“Unfortunate, I was hoping for quicker results, but I suppose it will have to do”
“What would you have me do then? Add more fire?” added Andreas.
“No…I’d rather not. Why waste more effort on something is already certain” laughed the Exarch as he clapped his hands together. “And well..it is rather cold”

Andreas stared at the Exarch Theodore and lost himself in contemplative thought in the cold air suddenly starting to warm from the burning mansion. So it has come to this, he reflected. A long time ago he had been a loyal retainer of the late Emperor Constantine and sent to Ravenna as part of a small elite of high ranking officials with the Exarch to suppress some rebellion. With no choice and a family to take care of, he had no choice but to thrown in his towel with this Exarch. A wretched vile creature. Every day of this rebellion made him sick. He had stained the memory of his former Emperor who had once been his companion in arms against the Saracens when they besieged Constantinople. Nonetheless, as long as his family is here, and as long as the Exarch is alive, he will obey his commands.

Back in the Exarch’s house
“Sorry, sir. There is no underground storage we could find” spoke a downcast Eraric.
“No matter Eraric, we will do what we have to from here on” replied Leo.
With a nod to Germanus, Germanus ran upstairs to the brothers Alexius and Gainas.

Leo then walked to one of the windows moving a silk curtain aside with his sword. While peering outside, he informed the rest of his small handful of Gothograeci to ready themselves.

“We will fight our way out like men”

The Gothograeci silently obeyed as they lined themselves into a two straight lines. Their shields interlocked on both sides forming themselves into something of a scaled serpent. They had known their commander for more than two years now. Every single man would die for Leo for he showed the same concern, regard and leadership of the Great Mercurius, a former Gothograeci leader.

Leo could see the Exarch Theodore standing with his arms folded with an arrogant disposition in the way he stood, they way he smiled and his pronounced tilted angle of his head upward. Leo murmured to himself: “Smile like its your last….usurping scum.”

Up in the second storey of the mansion, the brothers Alexius and Gainas had both pulled out an arrow from their quiver. They stepped forward and readied their aim while still inside the room. Germanus gave the order. The archers stepped out of the room into the balcony which had not been caught by the fire below. One by one, the arrows flew at their intended target: Exarch Theodore. Germanus was a step behind the brothers but he could see what had happened. The first arrow had not struck the Exarch at his neck but had instead inpaled the Exarch’s arms together. The second had found its mark just above the neck rim of the Exarch’s armour. The soldiers of the Exarch were suddenly thrown into confusion.

“Perfect” thought Germanus. As he and the brothers turned to join their comrade, he could hear the front door of the mansion burst open. Leo and his men were breaking out!

Outside the mansion again:
Leo burst through the front door with such force as to attract the confused soldiers of the Exarch in their direction. With cries beseeching the Virgin and her Son, they headed towards the Exarch’s second in command Andreas. As Leo neared Andreas, he found to his surprise that Andreas had withdrew his sword but not to fight. Instead the commander kneeled and offer his sword while ordering his men to stand down.

The shock was such that Leo stopped in his tracks without warning his men. Expectedly, Leo was pushed onto the ground by the force of his men suddenly stopped in their own tracks.
“Mercy on me” shouted Leo as he tried to regain his feet. He was in an exposed position as the late Exarch’s soldiers rushed to try and finish him. But before they could even get near, he heard Andreas again.
“I COMMAND YOU TO STOP!! DO YOU HEAR ME!! STOP!!”
The soldiers stopped with Andreas pushing his way forward, this time the sword was in its sheath and not drawn.
“The Exarch is dead, you follow my commands now! Do you understand! Now make way! Clear the path!” shouted Andreas again as he offered Leo a helping hand.

Leo could not believe his eyes but he accepted this commander’s offer of assistance as he regained his feet as did the rest of his Gothograeci. Andreas now bowed to Leo and calmly stated the situation.
“The Exarch is dead, there is no reason to continue this rebellion. Please pardon these soldiers”
As Leo was about to reply, Germanus and the brothers had just stepped out of the house, they too were surprised by this lull.

“Its over, they surrender” grinned Leo.
“Now that you are the highest Roman commander here, what would you wish me do?” asked Andreas.
“Deal with this fire. I have to get a message out to my other commanders outside the city. Open the gates and let my army in” replied Leo and then added “there will be no further punishment, no sacking, no retribution”.

A crooked smile came across Andreas’ face. “Good. But there is at least a few more people to punish.”
“Who might they be?” quipped Leo
“The true leaders of this rebellion of course. The Exarch wasn’t the only one responsible. He was goaded by a group of exiles whom the late Emperor Constantine had seen fit to banish from the capital”
“Put them in chains and bring them to me” answered Leo.
“As you wish” replied Andreas with another crooked smile.
The night ended with a fledgling light in the distance. It will be morning soon. Leo sighed relief with gratefulness. He couldn’t believe how quick it had come to end. But just as well it had. Amidst the sound of Andreas’ orders and the quenching of the fire Leo sat on the ground with his sword at his side. The rest of the Gothograeci did the same too. Words were not needed. They too were grateful for this quick change of events.

AntiochusIII

07-26-2006, 08:44

:wacky:

Teh Necromancy! That was an easy victory, no? Nice to see it back in fashion.

By the way, you might want to fix this:

Outside the mansion again:
Leo burst through the front door with such force as to attract the confused soldiers of the Exarch in their direction. With cries beseeching the Virgin and his Son, they headed towards the Exarch’s second in command Andreas...If by the Virgin you meant the Virgin Mary, that ought to be "her Son" as opposed to his. I'm not sure though.

kataphraktoi

07-26-2006, 08:59

Oops gender bending confusion, didn't notice that :2thumbsup:

Lol, it was, the reason why I didn't post anything for ages, I just had no idea how to extricate them. Originally, I had planned to have them find an underground wine cellar expected of a rich man like the Exarch...ah damn it, maybe they have found an underground cellar after all. hehe

kataphraktoi

07-26-2006, 14:12

Italian expedition (709) Pt 3:
Leo casually sat in the seat of the former Exarch in the main governmental building of the city. He admired the fine craftsmanship of the seat and its luxuriousness before he was distracted by the echoes of footsteps. It had been three weeks since the rebellion had collapsed by two arrows and Leo and his army clearly embraced it. Two days ago he had sent prominent agitators of the rebellion in chains to the capital. Today he is about to receive the Pope who had made the journey to Ravenna, no doubt to submit and no doubt to make amends.

With much trembling and apprehension, the Pope and his entourage entered Leo’s presence. In an attempt to ingratiate and tone down the seriousness of his rebellion, the Pope goaded his attendants to place the gifts he brought before Leo. Leo got up from his chair and stared at the gifts before him. A gold cup; a chest full of silver coins; and a small assortment of jewellery. With contempt he kicked the gifts which were sent back sprawling to the frightened Pope and his entourage.

“Do you think you will buy me? Perhaps assuage the wrath of the Emperor for your treason” sneered Leo.
The Pope fuddled with his hands, he knew he could deny the facts as stated and held his hands imploring mercy.
“Do you expect mercy too? It is not for me to decide, the Emperor will judge that himself. Take your gifts with you as well” said Leo as he turned his back from the Pope.
Two nearby Gothograeci hurried the Pope, his entourage and their intended “gifts” from the hall to the protests of offended dignity and divine reattribution.

Andreas, who had remained by Leo’s side since the death of the Exarch then walked into the hall with a dignified bow before approaching Leo with a document.
“As you have requested, lord”
“Good. I am confirming you in command of the Exarchate until a new Exarch arrives. But I will make sure the Emperor hears of your professed loyalty.”
Andreas bowed again. “There is much to do once you depart. The Longobards have been eyeing Roman possessions since the uprising, from my messengers, I have received reports that a few forts have been taken in hills south of Ravenna.”
Leo scratched his chin the way he often did when in deep thought. “But its nothing you can’t handle right?”
“Of course, lord. But as you know. Nothing is ever predictable.” replied Andreas, then added. “However, it would help for a few troops to remain?”
Leo returned to his seat. “If only it was that easy. My soldiers have been here for a long time, doubtless, another season here would push them beyond acceptable limits.”
“The treasury is still adequate for the hiring of mercenaries and more native soldiers.” suggested Andreas.
“I have a better idea. I will give the order for the Duke of Rome to makeover the Pope’s treasury into your command. I will send my Gothograeci to reinforce my command. In addition, I will personally ask a portion of my Gothograeci to remain under your command for a few more months under a higher rate of pay for their troubles.”
“Thank you, lord. It will be of great help. Heaven help us in this dire time” sighed Andreas.
“Yes” confirmed Leo. “Heaven help us all!”
“When will you depart Comes Leo?”
“In a weeks time, I have a few more things to put in order and then I will depart. At the moment, my fleet is re-victualling in Malamocco for supplies. It’s nearly winter, I hope to reach Constantinople before the peak of the wintering season. It is also good that I depart early. Doubtless, the population would not be happy at the prolonged presence of a large force, especially after having me viciously put down the rebellion across the Exarchate in the last two years.”
A servant poured a cup of wine for Leo for Andreas. Leo raised his cup and Andreas reciprocated.
“At last!” cried Leo.
“To peace!”

Life, Love and Happiness (709) Part 1

“Its cold and its beginning to snow Germanus, but at least we’re in Constantinople!” grinned Leo as he gripped the side of his flagship in anticipated glee.
“Can you believe it? Two years! Two years!” chimed in Germanus.
“I suppose you won’t recognise your son after all these years?”
“Ah children. They grow so quickly” said Germanus as he jokingly gestured to the height of his chest.
“You are fortunate good friend” smiled Leo. “Perhaps it is time, I too, had myself some little ones”

Germanus and Leo reached the Imperial palace before dismounting near the gates. The trip home was eventful from Ravenna to the capital and now they were summoned to an immediate audience with the Emperor after arriving in the Golden Horn. There was no triumphal procession through the Golden Gate nor any fanfare from the populace of the capital. Only the hustle and bustle of everyday life. But both men couldn’t complain, they would have preferred a quieter homecoming anyway.

As they entered the recesses of the palace, they could feel the warm air beginning to smother them. The deeper they walked into the chambers of the palace, the more they felt the need to take their thick coats off. Leo felt like he rehearsed this walk over and over again as he walked the same pathways, the same halls, the same guards, the same marble, gold and ever more elaborate array of silk and damask. Finaly, he and Germanus arrived at the familiar site of the Bronze gates that adorned the room to where they would meet with the Emperor.

As the bronze gates were opened, both men were surprised at the sight of the Emperor. Justinian had seemed to age in the last two years. Unnaturally it seems. His blond hair seemed to tarnish. His skin looked as if it was sagging and hanging off his bones. His eyes, desolate. Justinian was noted for his strong broad shoulders but they seemed to drooped.

The Emperor’s eyes then met theirs: “Greetings. Congratulations. I and the Empire owe a debt of gratitude”

Both men bowed. “Majesty.”

“As you can see, I am not in good health. The affairs of state are very…stressful. But it is the burden of a monarch, the exertion in God’s service. I am very pleased with your efforts. As expected I will reward you to the best of my ability. I will leave it to my Sacellarius. That is all.”

Germanus and Leo walked out of the room. Leo turned to Germanus. “Is he the same man we once knew?”
“Give him time. Perhaps he will recover from his melancholy.”
“I hope so too.” sighed Leo.
“It is time, I visited my family. Perhaps we will meet for a meal one day?” asked Germanus.
“Of course!” replied Leo as he clasped his fist and placed it on his chest.
Germanus bowed as they both left the palace for their own separate ways.

Ludens

07-26-2006, 14:32

Another fine update.

Welcome back, again.

kataphraktoi

07-26-2006, 14:37

Life, Love and Happiness (710) Part 2
The winter had passed and was in deep spring now. A new Exarch had been appointed and installed in Ravenna. The remaining troops had arrived back in the capital. As for Leo, the last few months was an opportunity to re-collect his fragmented and interrupted life. His involvement in the wars had prevented him from acquiring news of his village and family. His uncle had unfortunately died from the exertions of the war. But his village had been evacuated closer to the capital away from the marauding bands of Bulgars who continued to harass the Thracian frontier despite their defeat years ago in Mesembria. Today was the day he would visit the inhabitants of his village for the first time in a long time. And he would not be alone either. With him was Petrus, Narses and Calliopas, his childhood friends from the village.

In the two years since his Italian expedition, they had distinguished themselves as cavalrymen on the Thracian frontier repelling Bulgar raids. Now they were part of Leo’s immediate personal circle of retainers.

“We are near Leo” said Narses, the one who informed Leo about his uncle.
Leo didn’t respond. Calliopas and Petrus noticed this too.
Narses waved his hand across Leo’s face who immediately awoke from his distant gaze.
“Huh?” spluttered Leo.
“I said we are near Leo” repeated Narses.
“Oh?” grinned a sheepish Leo.
“Thinking about Kasia?” asked Petrus.
Leo smiled.
All three men let out an informed “Ahhh” from their mouths with their complicit knowledge.
“I hear she is still…how should I put it…unbe….trothed…..” said Calliopas dragging the last word in teasing suspense.
“After all this time? How? Knowing her mother, that would not be tolerated!” quipped Leo.
“She refused to marry anyone…and yet, refused to identify who she wanted to…marry…” said Narses.
“Come now, it couldn’t be me could it?” mocked Leo.
“Who else? The one and only Leo…hero of the Empire!!” laughed Petrus.
“Well, theres only one way to find out” smiled Leo.

Leo slipped into his pouch and brought a small little object out for all his companions to see. It was a gold ring.

kataphraktoi

01-11-2007, 15:46

The Caucasian Expedition (AD 713) Part 1

"Most majestic Prince, our most Serene and Emperor of the Romans, we ask you to consider your position towards the infidels. Are we not on the same side? Are we not brothers. The Saracens are quiet along the frontier, they launch raids every Spring but is nothing of concern. This is the perfect time to tie the bonds of brotherhood, friendship and kinship together! Our most Serene majesty's ancestor, the Christ-loving Heraclius's uncle Vardan married your maternal grandmother, this means you are part of the Imperial family too! Extend the hand of friendship to us, and we pledge you our undying friendship forever!"

Leo stepped back as he finished his exhortation to Prince Gourgen of Abkhazia.

The Prince starred with a deep gaze as he cntemplated the proposition of the Syrian and closed his eyes in meditative thought. Silence enshrouded his small throne room as all eyes watched attentively awaiting the verdict of the Prince. The Prince ran his fingers on the tarnished gold of his seat occasionally encircling the sculpted seated lions at the end of his armrest. Breathing deeply once, then twice, he opened his eyes.

"You do not need to remind, Roman, of my ties with your Emperor. But tell me where were you Romans when the Saracens invaded and raided my country. My forefathers submitted because of the failure of the Romans to protect us. You now ask us to forge an alliance...or is it to submit to your sovereignty. What guarantees are there for us that you will protect us from the power of the Saracens? I have kept records of your recent wars, your empire is recovering but the strength of the Saracens has not diminished. My son, who is hostage in Damascus has told of the increasing strength of the Caliphate. Their recent losses are nothing and have been made good by the lure of Jihad and the Razzias they commit against your borderlands. Tell me. Who will save my son if I break my bonds of vassalage to the Caliph?"

Leo coughed to clear his throat. He stepped forward.

"Majestic Prince. You are not alone in your situation. We have made our appearance at the courts of several of the Iberian and Armenian Princes who have sent their sons as hostages to the Caliph as well. We offered them the same extension of friendship we offer to you now. In our past, we may have failed on occasions to protect our dear vassals, but not from deliberate apathy you must know. We were fighting for our survival to preserve our pure and true faith! If our resources are tied and exhausted to contend for the faith, is it our fault that we have failed to make provision for you and the other Princes? We understand! But the problem is that we were never unified in the early decades of the struggle against the infidels! This is a chance to make right the wrongs of the past. Ally with us, make a united stand!

But alas, you think of your son. You are right to do so. It would be unfitting and un-Christlike of us to forget your son. Would you perhaps reconsider when we bring news to you of his safety in the most holy city of Constantinople! Not only yours but the sons of other princes too!"

Leo paused. He wanted the last sentence to ring into the ears of the Prince. He waited. He watched with pleasure as his words had their intended affect.

Prince Gourgen lifted himself from his throne. His face was a portrait of confusion and relief.

"My dear Manuel is safe!"

Leo bowed.

"By the honour of my name I swear to it"

Prince Gourgen approached Leo and held him as he would with his closest friends or his family.

"But how?"

"Majestic Prince, our agents helped their sons to escape from Damascus. Those prince's sons who have known of the liberation of their sons have already united behind our cause! Indeed some have even been sent into the arms and bosom of their fathers already. We are reconciliing old enemies and re-awaken forgotten ties"

The Prince bowed on one eye, both his arms opened as if in supplication.

"You have your alliance! May our bonds with Rome be forged anew!"

Leo lifted the Prince from his knees and knelt himself before the Prince.

"Majestic Prince, keep this alliance a secret. The time for announcing our newfound friendship is the right time. When we do so, it will be with the resounding clatter of iron! When we call upon our brothers in arms and in faith, that will be the time of our salvation from the oppression of the infidels!"

The Caucasian Expedition (AD 713) Part 2

Leo and his small entourage mounted their horses as they exited from the Prince's palace. It was the bitter winter air that greeted them compared to the relatively less icier and dampness of the Abkhazian Prince's abode. Leo rubbed his hands together and breathed into them with his breath.

He had been fortunate to wear armour underneath his thick fur to further insulate him against the terror of the Caucasian winter.

As they rode back to their small encampment, Leo had pondered long and hard of the three years that passed so quickly. His first mission to command was a resounding success. To the people of Constantinople, he could do no wrong. THe more he achieved, the greater the pressure there was to succeed. Fortunately, he had married the most beautiful woman in the world (in his mind) - his beloved Kasia.

It had pained him to leave Kasia just as she was advanced in labour. But he had no choice. The political situation had changed, the peace and lull since the recent Saracen wars meant that the Empire had to re-forge alliances, make he borders secure and bring reliable allies within her orbit of influence again. Emperor Justinian had set so much store in the Caucasian region. Not only were his relatives living and ruling there was petty Princes but here laid the recruiting ground of some of the best soldiers the Empire could recruit. Experienced and tough Armenians, resourceful and hardy Iberians and resilient and stubborn Abkhazians. Excellent infantrymen, even more excellent cavalrymen.

The region was crucial to the Empire. What was crucial to Justinian was crucial for Leo. He had acquired some fame outside of the Empire's borders. The "New Mercurius" as proclaimed by his admirers and enemies alike. His fame must be used. His fame must be harnessed for the good of the Empire!

Leo knew this and accepted it.

Deep inside his heart everyday he would pray. Pray for his safety, pray that he would hold his wife again and see his child. Couriers had announced to him the good news of a son! He was to be a father! He longed the most for the comfort of his wife again. It seemed so long since he gazed into her eyes. Such deep beautiful brown eyes! The harder he tried to remember the countenance of her face, the more that memory faded into a feeling and longing inside his soul, ever deeper, ever painful. And yet, creating an ever stronger desire to succeed in his mission.

This would be his diplomatic destination after a long two year tour around the Caucasian region. He would sweet-talk hostile petty Princes and gain their allegiance with the news of the rescue of their sons from Damascus. He would charm and strengthen the relationship of the Empire to friendly princes with the same news. At the same time, he was campaigning. No amount of talking can be effective unless the presence of military might was there. If the princes were to believe his words of reconciliation, they must realise that the Romans have the warriors to uphold the alliance. However, some princes took longer to convince. To assist the process, Leo had on occasion led his army against the enemies of the petty princes against Saracen fortifications and raiding Saracen territory. It seems some material leverage was needed. But in the end, they acquiesed.

Leo sighed as he realised that more was needed to be done before he could begin to even think of home. He had promised several princes that he would make good the word of the Romans to show they could protect them against the Saracens without of course making the petty princes complicit as that would negate the secrecy of the alliance. He would have to lead some military expeditions into Saracen territory with his own army without aid from the princes. The princes themselves would feign shock and horror that the Romans would trample through their territory at will and appear as helpless vassals of the Caliph. However, instead of appealling to the Caliph for military assistance, they would instead inform the Caliph of the strength of Saracen forces in the region to take care of the Roman aggression and profusely praise the strength of Saracen arms and the destruction of the Roman army anytime soon.

It worked perfectly for Leo, but more so for the princes. Here was an unpassable opportunity. The Romans would weaken Saracen influence in the Caucasus for the benefit of the princes without them being seen as enemies of the Caliphate but as helpless vassals dependent on Saracen arms.

The camp appeared before Leo. It was a traditional square encampment. Defensively placed on an elevated plateau, it was perfect as a base for his Caucasian expedition. Against the snow, it was like some black chess board. He had seen the curious game of chess before. The Romans adopted it from the now-defunct Sassanians who adopted it in turn from the Indians. Ironic, thought Leo. This is like chess. All the moves have been made, pieces put into place one by one. Now we will see what the end will be.

"Strategos!" bellowed a familiar voice. A voice he had not heard for some time but welcome nonetheless.

After dismounting Leo opened his arms in disbelief at a welcome sight. His old friend Germanus!

Germanus placed his big beary arms around Leo and lifted him from the ground.

"You big ugly bear, what are you doing here!" Leo shouted.

"You fool, you! The Emperor has sent additional detachments to your army. You did request them did you not?"

Leo starred bemused before comprehending the situation.

"Mother of God! I did! But I did not expect an old friend!"

"I had insisted to Justinian that I must come. There was no other way!"

"Either way, it is nice to have a familiar face and comrade in arms here with me" smiled Leo. 'What news from the capital of late?"

"Come, let us talk privately. It is cold outside!"

"Of course, of course" replied Leo. With one arm around his comrade's shoulder he led him to his tent.

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

Germanus sat comfortably in the wooden chair offered to him by Leo as well as enjoying a swig of wine. With a hearty gulp, he wiped his mouth and beard and informed Leo of the latest developments in the Empire, especially the capital.

"Good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"

"Germanus, I've been out here for so long, lets hear some good news first."

"Haha. Fair enough. Fair enough. Well, lets begin at the domestic front. Kasia is doing well, she is busy taking care of your son. So busy she doesn't seem to miss you" Germanus winked.

Leo smiled and winked in reply. "What else?"

"Your son is doing well, he has already learnt to speak. Little Arcadius looks like an energetic type, obviously takes after his father!" laughed Germanus.

"Your friends are doing well too. They have kept everything in order in your household. They enjoy being your retainers since you seconded them from the army. I hear Artabanus is getting married soon, as is Narses."

Germanus then went quiet.

Leo stared at Germanus. "and the bad news?"

"The Emperor. He looks sicker than usual. His strength is failing. His courtiers are plotting against him. I feel it. They've never forgiven him for taking a Khazar bride. The idea of a half-caste Turk on the throne of Byzantium disgusts them. But we have no evidence yet. Beneath the pomp, the granduer, the flattering and empty words that come from their mouths, something does not feel right."

"And of Mercurius?"

"Mercurius has been sent to Italy, the Exarch Andreas was killed while fighting the Longobards. Mercurius will replace him temporarily. In my opinion, a bad move. Justinian has sent one of his strongest supporters far away. Thank goodness for his Pharganoi bodyguards. Their loyalty cannot be doubted and with a Khazar Empress, their fidelity is not questioned."

"Alas, poor Andreas. A good man" said Leo.

"I'll raise a cup to that Leo" replied Germanus.

Leo raised his cup. "To Andreas"

"To Andreas"

"Unfortunately, the Pharganoi don't have influence in the capital. They're foreigners. Germanus, what has been done to protect the Emperor?"

"We've placed him under surveillance constantly...we...."

"No, Germanus. I'm not just talking about protecting the Emperor but also the stability of the Empire that comes from the Emperor being in control."

"There have been some curious appointments made in the capital. The son of Artemianus has been promoted as Count of the Opsikion. I don't trust Priscus one bit."

'Neither do I, the Opsikion is a very important province with some of the largest Roman forces stationed there."

"What concerns me even more Leo is the appointment or re-appointment of the Emperor's old enemies - if one could call them "old" enemies as it seems they are still enemies of the Emperor."

"THis is a dangerous path. Of all places, Im out here in the Caucasus!"

"I know, I know. But the Emperor needs good men to strengthen the Empire. Too bad, he doesn't have many good men in the capital. They're like vultures encircling until they see the right time to pounce on the Emperor."

"Germanus, I must stay one more Winter is this dread place. When I've finished campaigning. We will return as fast as possible. It is not safe for me to be away from the capital for so long. I fear for my Kasia and Arcadius if anything should happen. I feel it too Germanus. This sense of dread. I can't do anything to stop it out here. i must be back in the capital."

"One more winter Leo, one more. I'll be at your side. Once we finish, we will return will all speed to the capital. I swear to it that I'll see you finish this campaign quickly."

"God-speed Germanus"

"Amen"

Ludens

01-13-2007, 17:12

Glad to see you back, kataphraktoi. May I express the hope that the next update takes a little less time? :2thumbsup:

Julian the apostate

02-02-2007, 03:18

Fantastic

kataphraktoi

10-28-2007, 07:21

AD 713: The Second Fall

A hagged and frail figure limped across the marble floors of the Great Palace coughing intermittently and at times violently. It was midnight in the great city of Constantinople and the Emperor was still awake. Sitting in his private study, Justinian began poring over the missives of the day bearing news from the frontiers. Each letter brought new challenges, new burdens and a new sense of foreboding fear.

He knew he was going to die. His doctors could not diagnose the problem, but he could feel the ailment inside. It felt like a lump inside his body burning and growing each day. With each passing day, Justinian became obsessed with the future and his legacy. In his prime, he had a dominating personality and attractive charisma. He would talk down his courtiers and advisers through sheer will alone. In his present weakness, he could only acquiese. It would have seem unthinkable that he would appoint Priscus, son of the usurper Artemianus as the Count of the Opsikion province - the largest and most powerful province in the empire. As Justinian would acknowledge, he surrendered to the pressure of his ministers.

Yesterday, he had overseen the dispatch of a large naval expedition to recapture Cherson against the rebel Vardanes. To the surprise of many observers, it was led by Vardanes' brother in law, Saborios. Even his wife protested vehemently at the appointment. His wife's protest was the first time he had even seen or spoken to her in a long time. Shutting himself from his family, he had established an exclusive corner in the Great Palace.
not
It wasn't out of hostility to his family. He was ashamed. He was ashamed to be seen in his weak state. He wanted them to remember him as the tall, handsome and strong Emperor he once was. Not the terminally ill wreck. And then, there was his pride. He made his decisions and stood by them. Some correct, others disastrously concieved. And yet, he stood by them.

His strongest supporters had all but dispersed to oversee missions abroad. His ministers had pressured him to do so, arguing trusted men should be sent with trusted missions. It seemed simple and correct, but it also meant a weakening circle of friends to rely upon in the capital. Quietly, the Emperor knew it. BUt did not do anything about it. It was his pride that got in the way.

Working endlessly through the night, a shaft of light penetrated through the terraced windows of his palace. The dawn of the new day beaconed its presence. In the light of day, the true extent of his condition revealed itself: the Emperor was a dead man walking and he could do was weep bitterly in the knowledge of his demise.

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

Cherson:

The armada of ships slowly appeared on the horizon. The new day was just breaking to the alarm of the citizens of Cherson. The city had been taken over by the exiled general Vardanes by his supporters. They expected a brutal punishment for being an unwilling party to this rebellion. Soon pandemonium broke out, gangs soon formed to agitation for the deposition and handover of the rebel to the Imperial navy to stave off the possiblity of punishment.

In the governor's palace, Vardanes laughed off the commotion in the city. In his early 40s, Vardanes was a general of Armenian extraction. His family was a scion of the Mamikonian family and boasted royal pedigree. It had also iincalculated in him a degree of royal arrogance too. His defeats in battle had not seen him punished for incompetence. But he was punished for attempting to desert in mid-battle against the Saracens in which his superior commander, Theophilus was killed as a result of his desertion.

He was hunted down by the general Leo who was in the vicinity. At the mention of Leo, be bristled. That young upstart Syrian had cut off on his ears in retaliation for his desertion in which Theophilus - Leo's childhood friend - had been killed. Under heavy escort, he was sent back to the capital and unceremoniously exiled to the cold periphery of Cherson.

However, he was a powerful man in his right. His family had superceded that of Artemianus' own family as the leading party to overthrow the Heraclian dynasty. Even Priscus, the son of Artemianus acknowledged this. His partisans in the capital included ministers and advisers of the EMperor. With each passing day, he knew they were putting the pieces in play. They waited for the execution to bring their ambitions to fruition.

One of these pieces was his brother-in-law. From his supporters, he knew his brother-in-law was commanding the army sent to punish him. He also knew the composition of the expedition. They were soldiers loyal to his family and exclusively recruited for the expedition. The armada was not his damnation, it was his salvation.

Vardanes felt invigorated by this knowledge and smiled smugly. His time would come.

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

Armenia:

"Most honourable lord, we have fulfilled our oaths to the great Khalif. We present before you the Roman army that has plagued our region and challenged the authority of his supreme majesty"

"You have indeed served us as loyal allies Prince Arsaces, you will be rewarded by the Khalifah when we triumph over these Roman dogs!"

"Please except my leave of absence to command my regiment, I await your signal lord"

"By all means. Allah Akhbar, may we be granted victory"

The Armenian prince Arsaces rode to his cavalry regiment on the right wing of the Saracen army sent to find and destroy the Roman forces led by Leo. For months, the Romans had stalked in the region destabilising the Saracen presence. Like the other princes, Arsaces had submitted to the Khalifah, and like other Armenian princes, he was in secret compact with the Romans against the Saracens. The combined forces of the Armenians and the Saracens had trapped the Romans in the many valleys and flat spots that dot the Armenian region. The Armenians had blocked off one of the exit points of the valley while the main force had occupied the higher terrain overlooking the Roman force.

Maslama moved his forces forward. His was excited at the prospect of wiping out the pesterous Romans and claiming the head of Leo. Leo had earned his name against them. He had defeated the legendary Mutasim and put Saracen arms to shame at Tephrike. Maslama hoped to earn his name against Leo.

Born the son of the Khalif Abd Al Malik, he had distinguished himself against the Romans after the disaster of Tephrike. With him was an elite regiment of captured Turks who were enslaved, converted and freed to become his most reliable warriors.

It was his elite Turks who attacked first, riding ahead of the Saracen force they launched a volley of arrows taking advantage of the elevated heights to enhance their range and penetrating force. The Romans had the advantage of large shields to cower under. Even then, some had fallen.

The Romans replied in kind, the foot archers hid behind their comrades before emerging to fire their own volley. They fell short as their depressed position worked against them.

Leo was not worried by his position. The Armenians covering the rear exit were unlikely to move out from their positions. This allowed him to deploy his army facing in one direction: namely the main force. He ordered his forces to retreat back. He hoped to lure the Saracens off their elevated ground. He hoped that larger Saracen force would be overconfident so as to use their numbers to overcome his force.

Maslama saw the Roman force retreat back. He was not fooled. He would not surrender his elevated position. He was wary of Leo's strategems. Instead he decided to play a game of attrition. Musa had brought with him native Iranian horse archers, Muslim to a man and beholden to Islam. Positioned on his left, he sent them to harry the Roman right continously.

To his frustration, the Romans rarely broke ranks. Since the Iranians were on level terrain, the Roman archers could hold them off. As the afternoon began to wear on, his Iranians made no impression.

An Armenian cavalryman rode up to his position with a message from the Armenian Arsaces.

"Most honourable lord, my lord asks of you, why is there a delay in the attack? His men are weary and tired of inaction."

Emir Maslama was in an agitated mood and replied:

"Tell your lord, it is I who gives orders! Tell him to wait!'

The chasted Armenian bowed and rode back to his Prince.

Maslama's trusted adviser, Badr Ibn Ali spoke as the Armenian messenger left.

"Maslama, why not get the Armenians covering the rear exit to charge the Roman line. We have surrounded the Romans. At the same time, we will charge. It will not matter if we do not hold the elevated heights, they cannot resist a pincer movement. It is very simplistic, oh Emir, but an effective one."

"Badr, I know what you say makes sense, but this cursed dog is not as easy to fight against."

"Perhaps you are being to paranoid!"

Maslama had an incredulously look on his face which turned to anger before realising that maybe his adviser was right.

"I am aren't I? You have been my best adviser for years. You have provided wise counsel to me"

Badr gave a reassuring smile to Maslama: "You are Maslama, you've fought against the Romans before and won victories against them when it seemed our cause was going to be shattered. You recovered our positions after our pride was dented by the battle of Tephrike. Don;t doubt yourself!"

"Badr, send a message to the Armenians behind the Romans to charge. Also order Prince Arsaces to charge the Roman left. We ourselves will charge the center and their right. This ends today!"

Badr bowed and rode to mounted messengers behind him.

Badr Ibn Ali could look back on a distinguished career as well as an interesting history. Badr was the descendant of a Roman officer who fought under Emperor Heraclius. The officer, Cassius, was from a rich Cappadocian family based in Caesarea and was captured at the battle of Yarmuk and enslaved. Due to his bravery in the one-sided massacre of his comrades, he was spared on the condition of conversion. Under Islamic laws, a Muslim cannot be a slave and was freed immediately. However, that freedom was not complete. His military bravery saw him enlisted and seconded to the Khalifah's elite regiments to participate in the conquest of Sassanian Iran. Cassius, or Qasim Ibn Ishaq acquired fame and fortune against the Sassanid forces. It seemed iironic that he had fought against them under Heraclius years ago as a junior officer. Granted lands in Iran, he settled in the city of Nishapur where he started his own family - known as the Banu Qasim. His descendants were skilled and loyal servants of the Ummayad rulers. On occasion, they led as generals against the Turks. On other occasions, they were skilled administrators.

Cassius-Qasim, however, had never forgotten his roots. Unbeknownst to his new masters, he had kept contact with his family in Cappadocia during his lifetime. The passage of time eventually worked against this. His descendants intermarried with Iranian families who converted to Islam . The Banu Qasim became ensconced in the sphere of Islam and the Iranian people, but they never forgot their roots. Badr himself never forgot either. He was the grandson of Justin and continued the family tradition as a warrior. He was also the keeper of the Christian tradition. Outwardly they were Muslims, secretly, they were Christians. They acquired a reputation for tolerance of Christians and Zoroastarians. Interestingly, all wives of Banu-Qasim male were either secret Christians or Zoroasterians. This secret compact secured their ties with Iranian families even further. Though his spiritual loyalty was to the Roman religion, his temporal loyalty was to the Caliphate.

Prince Arsaces recieved the Saracen order and prepared to marshal his forces.
The Armenian cavalry regiment moved forward at the sound of a horn and shouts of the Naxarar nobles. He was in a confident mood. For the first time in years he felt relieved. Relieved his son was in safe custody in Roman territory. The Saracens had reported his son was in Damascus, presumably to keep him loyal hoping to fool him. But he knew better. Prince Arsaces had somehow managed to muster the combined forces of the fractious and disputatious Armenian nobles. His noble lineage had at least given him some ephemeral advantage in this particular time and hour of need.

The pace of the combined forces continued in a menacing momentum against the Roman forces. Leo ordered the Romans to feign panic. The Romans dispersed haphazardly shouting and lamenting.

From the distance, the Saracen forces could see this. It excited them as well as scared them. They dreamt of looting the Romans but were wary of Roman deception as well. They loathed of sharing with the Armenians any loot after the battle. A few Saracens had to reigned in to prevent them from breaking an orderly march. The outlying Iranian horse archers began to ride against the Roman right again, hoping to take advantage of the Roman disorder. As they were about to approach the enemy, they were surprised. Despite appearing disorderly, they did not expect a hail of arrows fired against them. The Roman archers were well hidden in the apparent disorder. Man and horse hit the ground in shock death and horror. The Iranians were momentarily stunned before they regained their senses and retreated a further distance back.

Leo once bellowed for the Roman to re-organise. His feigned disarray had quickened the Saracen march against his forces. He now ordered his forces to retrieve their ordered positions again. Behind the main army lines were trumpeteers who blew in successions signals to begin the march. They were going to face the main force head on! The Armenians guarding the exit routes began to near the Roman rear.

Maslama watched the Romans beginning to march forward. He was worried by their ignorance of the Armenians in their rear.

"Why aren't they sending a force against them!" shouted an exasperated Maslama.

He was uneasy again.

As experienced as he was, this unorthodox circumstance caught him off guard.

The Armenians in the rear did not charge the Romans, instead they rode to the position to the Roman right.

Badr remarked: "Maybe they are preparing to engage the Roman right?"

"It still doesn't make sense!" exclaimed Maslama.

Meanwhile the Saracens had quickened their pace. The elite Turkish regiment had positioned themselves in the center providing covering fire to the infantry in front of them.

The Romans paused at the foot of the elevated position, tempting the Saracens to use the height to their advantage in a frontal charge. Behind their large shields, they bristled like an armoured tortoise. Leo had his officers and general were already dismounted and fought as infantry behind large shields. All horses were left at a secure location earlier. He positioned himself in the center. His soldiers knew this and confidently faced the enemy knowing the this.

The crush of the Saracen forces rammed into the Roman lines with a violent force. The Romans held off the first charge with determination and desperation knowing the outcome of the battle relied on their order and cohesion. Engaging in close combat, the Romans had the better of the lighter armoured Saracens. After absorbing the violent first contact, the Romans deliberately moved backwards as if the Saracen momentum had put them on the backfoot.

The Saracen forces surrounded the Romans on the left and right wing positions, all Romans were fighting on foot in a strong hollow rectangle formation. The Iranian horse archers launched into the fray this time. Confident in victory.

Strangely enough, the Armenians had not moved after their initial deployment.

Maslama noticed this too.

Prince Arsaces knew this was the correct time, the Saracen had gleefully surrounded the Roman force. One of the cavalrymen in the frontline of the cavalry regiment unfurled a large banner with the Mother Mary prominent against a white silk background.

"Leave no survivors! Everything depends on their complete annihilation!"

The Armenian cavalrymen intended to charge the Roman rear now charged the Saracen left which had engaged the Roman right. The Saracens were caught off-guard as they noticed their flanks being attacked by their erstwhile allies.

"The Armenians have betrayed us! Those dogs, you can't trust an infidel!"

Maslama noticed that Prince Arsaces had split his forces. One to attack his elite Turkish regiment in the center, the other towards him!

"All will come to nothing if we are annihilated. Word must be sent to the Khalifah!"

"We must retreat!" yelled Maslama to his officers who were a considerable distance behind the main engagement below them. Ignoring the fate of their army, beat a retreat with the Armenians behind them. As they approached the exit above them, they saw men appearing to occupy the exits.

Prince Arsaces had stationed reliable infantrymen in the pathways outside the valley to block off any Saracen retreat. It was to be a total victory for his countrymen.

Badr rode up to Maslama: "We have no choice but to charge"

Maslama angrily struck at Badr: "Its your fault, I told you something was not right!"

"But you decided to engage them anyway" retorted Badr.

"Many victories, I have won, this is shameful!"

"Its not over until your body lies in the dust Maslama!"

Maslama knew his old friend was right. He had been duped by a cunning general, his duty now was to survive and inform his brother, the Khalif Suleiman of the Armenian deception.

With Badr by his side, he extorted his retainers to fight for their lives.

In a desperate charge they launched a desperate attack against the infantrymen blocking their retreat. Utilising Roman tactics, he had part of his force firing arrows against the spear-armed infantrymen while his strongest lancers aimed their lances against the enemy.

To his surprise, the Armenians crumbled against the combined arms assault of his forces. However, that initial shocked was soon absorbed by the sheer mass of the infantrymen who slowed the cavalry charge and proceeded to slaughter the brave but doomed Saracen retainers of Maslama's men.

However, that charge was enough to create a hole, as narrow as it seemed. The retainers closest to Maslama were buffeted by the other cavalrymen engaging, or more unfortunately, serving as fodder for the infantrymen fighting on their own terms.

"One more charge Maslama, it is a small hole, but we must go for it before it closes up!"

Badr and Maslama extorted the unengaged retainers to make one last charge.

Maslama had barely emerged from the small hole with a handful of his men. Badr, however, was not by his side. To gain enough time for Maslama, Badr deliberately stayed behind to distract the infantrymen. With a momentary glimpse, he could see Badr heroically hacking left and right until he was felled by numbers.

Prince Arsaces cursed himself as he saw Maslama escape. Knowing what fine steeds the Arab stallions were, his own men had no chance of catching up with the enraged Saracen. Despite winning today's battle. He knew he had failed. There would be swift retribution. The Armenian secret alliance would be exposed and his countrymen would pay.

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

kataphraktoi

10-28-2007, 09:06

AD 714: The Second Fall:

It was no surprise when Priscus raised the banner of revolt in the Opsikion province. It was a matter of time just after the naval expedition to Cherson turned their coat and proclaimed Vardanes Emperor. Not knowing when the naval expedition would arrive, Justinian placed his capital under the care of Mercurius who had returned from his duties in Italy while he led an army against Priscus.

For the first time in a long time, Justinian felt revitalised again. The rebellion had sprung him into action, while still frail, he had at least recovered some of his dynamism and energy. Justinian had gathered an army of 6000 men including most of the elite regiments in the capital and crossed the Bosphorus under cover of night. Priscus, who had encamped at Prusa, was taken by surprise at the Emperor's sudden change of demeanour. On hearing of the crossing, he quickly gathered his enemy to engage the Emperor head on.

In a pitched battle outside Nicaea, Justinian routed the rebel and captured Priscus in an attempted retreat. In front of his routed army held captive, Priscus was behead by Justinian himself. To all who took part in that battle, it seemed the Emperor had returned to his old confident self. Admittedly, the Emperor still looked pale and sick, but nonetheless had a glow about him. After the battle, however, Justinian retreat to his camp exhausted. Once inside the confines of his luxurious tent, he collapsed on the ground. His retainers just barely caught him. They carried him to his bed and stripped him of his armour. The imperial physician was summoned with due haste.

Demetrios hastened to the Emperor when he heard of the Emperor's collapse.
Upon seeing Demetrios, JUstinian exclaimed:
"Demetrios, I know I am a stubborn fool but I had to lead my men into battle"
Empathically, Demetrios reassured the Emperor he understood his reasons but still chastened him for his rashness. Like a father to a son, that was how Demetrios was seen in Justinian's eyes. Demetrios was a trusted member of
his father's staff, and even now, he remained to Justinian.

"How long do I have left Demetrios" asked Justinian.

Demetrios sighed: "I don't know Emperor, this 'thing' inside of you takes it time"

"Am I cursed, is God against me that I should suffer this ailment?"

"I don;t know, his ways confound me." lamented Demetrios.

"Hush now, you could be branded a heretic!" laughed Justinian.

"Oh, it is healthy to express some doubt now and then" grinned Demetrios.

"Meanwhile, you have to rest. Take one day at a time. I've ordered a strict diet of fruit and vegetables for you.

Justinian frowned: "Again?"

Demetrios feigned a fatherly frown: "Who's the physician here?"

Justinian laughed again and resigned himself to a lamentable diet.

"This, i fear is worse than death!"

"Maybe so, but its my order" smiled Demetrios.

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

Armenia:

The Caliph enraged at the Armenian betrayal sent his Maslama back with a larger army to punish the nobles. Leo, with a small force could only engage in ambushes and raids in shadowing tactics against the much larger army. Leo knew that diplomacy had failed. The secret alliance had been blown. All he could do now was contain the damage. It was to be no easy task.

Using Sebastea as a checkpoint, Armenian refugees flooded through this city in an attempt to escape the wrath that was coming. However, the unfortunate vast majority of Armenians stayed where they were. The united Armenians under Prince Arsaces quickly crumbled at the Saracen assault. Defections to the Saracens amongst the nobles ensured after the capture and leveling of Yerivan deep in the Armenian heartland. Prince Arsaces and a few of his loyal nobles made a desperate last stand in the mountains until they were betrayed by their countrymen and butchered to a man. The prince;s head was taken and exhibited before Maslama who had it sent around the Armenian cities still holding out. Armenia as a region was pacified.

The key to Saracen failures in the region had been wiped out in one determined campaign. However, the Saracens did not invade the Romans for their complicit role in the Armenian region. Their target were the Armenians who were considered treasonous subjects. As for the Romans, that was another matter. For now, they satisfied themselves with raiding Anatolia.

Leo, who was ensconsced in Trebizond was relieved to find the military positions in Anatolia still in place. He had managed to keep his force intact. With the aid of Germanus, he had survived the cut-throat politics of the Caucasian region. While he had failed to prevent the bloodbath in Armenia, he had managed to at least keep Abkhazia from being attacked. Prince Gourgen had given refuge to many Armenian nobles fleeing the Saracen wrath and pledged their loyalty to the Romans, more so from the desire to seek revenge rather than any emotional sentiment to Rome.

The Emperor had sent Leo a message asking him to remain in Trebizond. The Emperor was marching with a Roman army to fight the Saracens after the ending of winter.

While pleased with the Emperor's apparent recovery, he lamented having to spend more long time away from his young family beyond the winter of this year. Resigning himself to this delay, he spent most of his time fighting the Saracen raids.