zelda12
05-23-2004, 12:15
Right this is the third time i'm gonna try this, the other two times it was garbled. So here goes this is a MTW inspired story.
I have taken onboard some of your comments on the Battle of hells gorge and have done this next piece of work as such, the start is pretty much the same but... well you'll see.
The hot midday sun beat down as the column of men wound its way along the sun baked road. The cloud of dust raised could be seen from miles around as the huge army marched on.
How many my lord? Asked the man at arms
Edging down the side of the hill lord Beverbrook let out a sigh of resignation.
At least five thousand.
The year is 1425. One main power in Europe remains, they are the kingdom of England who subjugated the whole of Europe by the 1300's. Now however the cracks are beginning to show as the powers from the east and North Africa. Tales of the horror spread by the invading armies of the horseman of the devil, strike fear into the hearts of the people. To combat this kings have had to raise huge armies to protect the borders. But despite ever increasing losses they have refused to take the fight to the enemy, and so slowly a great empire is bleeding to death. But the great generals still fight on to protect a once great empire.
The English armies are based on small groups of professional's well-trained and well-equipped soldiers. That defends small border forts. When needed large forces can be bought together behind the lines to meet any great threats.
Lord Beverbrook strode into the command tent. Gentlemen. The assembled men all nodded. Lord Beverbrook addresses the assembled captains of the men he commands. An army of the Golden Hoard is marching towards the town of St Steven's. It numbers somewhere near five thousand men. There is a shocked silence. The first to speak up is Sir Henry Poncenby who commands the cavalry. How many days march are they from the town.
Two.
Sir how can an army of five thousand got this far without being detected. Asks Sir Wallace the commander of the infantry units.
How do you think, we just let them build up large forces outside our borders then we have to pay the price for not destroying them where they come from Bursts out Sir Henry.
Gentlemen, we are faced with a dilemma. As you all know the main army is as we speak stopping a thrust of some ten thousand men from the hoard two hundred miles north of here. As such we have to stop them with our two thousand men.
Before anyone can answer the scout that was left behind to watch the enemy bursts in.
As the assembled group looks at him he slowly collapses revealing the arrow in his back. Sir Fitzherbert immediately starts shouting. Get the physician and the priest in here now
As the physician runs in Sir Henry stands up from the scout he has a look of horror on his face. The physician kneels over the man and shakes his head. Sir Henry did he say anything? Asks Lord Beverbrook.
Ninety thousand
What are you talking about? Asks Lord Beverbrook impatiently.
Before he died he told me what you saw was just an advance guard. The actual army is ninety thousand strong.
A stunned silence ensues.
Ninety thousand, but with the main army away...? Exclaims Sir Fitzherbert.
Immediately Lord Beverbrook starts yelling orders. Get messengers in here now.
What are we doing? My lord asks Sir Henry.
We are going to assemble all the border forces, and stop this army before it can do any damage.
But even all the border forces combined in this sector would barely equal thirty thousand Bursts out Fitzherbert.
If we can destroy at least thirty thousand men the rest of the empire will have a chance to stop them Cries Sir Henry. Every man in the tent looks thoughtful as they consider what has been uttered in the tent.
Then it is settled we shall convene the border forces here, as Lord Beverbrook speaks he plunges his knife into the map lying on the table at the fortress of St George.
Here we will triumph or die trying to protect the empire.
The plain that St George's fortress is situated on is a vast rocky plateau rising fifty metres above the plain, making cavalry virtually useless. Rising out of this is a granite rise that towers another fifty metres. On this Granite rise is the vast fortress of St George. With four terraced levels each with its own curtain wall and barbican as well as culverin turrets culminating in a huge keep that dwarfs all others in comparison. The fortress can hold ten thousand men and when fully provisioned can hold out for twenty years and has a fresh water well. It is also the king's residence in the east of the empire and as fate would have it he was there at the time of the great incursion of the hoard.
The running mass of men charged up towards the defences at the head of the plateau. As soon as the attackers got in range men started to fall in their ranks as the archers and crossbowmen started to loose their arrows into the running mass of men. Slowly the attacking troops began to fall back under the weight of fire and the casualties that they were suffering. With a huge explosion one of the cannons exploded, taking with it it's crew and the neighbouring crew. Incensed by this the attacking barbarians surged forward to the crest of the path battering past the hastily erected palisade. To the men coming up the path there seemed to be a huge explosion of hell as two hundred arbequisers opened up at five metres. The men who had got past the palisade were thrown backwards as a seemingly wall of lead hit's them. Then a unit of Highlanders charge forward tossing back the enemy and following them back down the paths a way until breaking of and rejoining their compatriots on the palisade. The attacking enemy decides not to attempt another attack. And start to withdraw leaving their dead and dying men to their fate. The commander of the crossbowmen comes up to Lord Lassan duke of Normandy. What would you have us do with the prisoners and wounded men milord?
Kill them all, and put their heads on pikes up the approach. As the Duke speaks his eyes do not flicker. As the crossbowman retreats back to his unit, he shivers at the thought of such a man.
As this action is going on the men feverishly prepare the ground upon which they plan to make their stand when the enemy finally breaks through the defences at the head of the path up to the plateau.
Why are we doing this anyhow? Asks one of the archers in the extreme flank of the line. Why do you think. Mutters one of the other men sharpening stakes.
Henry Talbert, commander of the archers and crossbowmen on the flank, strides through and answers the question. The reason is that in that their fortress there isn't enough room for all you lazy layabouts. So were defending our positions so that we won't have to retreat into that fortress. So stop whining and start sharpening
So Lassan how goes the defence?
Sire, we have repulsed two attacks so far causing an estimated two thousand casualties to the enemy whilst suffering only five hundred ourselves. This however includes two of our artillery guns.
Well can you hold them for long, we need time to prepare the ground for when they do break through.
Sire, if they attack again in numbers the same as today the best we can do is die where we stand.
Wallace take your men and clean those palisades of the enemy Lassan watches as Wallace's highlanders rush to the enemy that are climbing over the palisades.
Lassan starts shouting at his aides. Get our men at arms here and formed up
The fight on the palisade is going the highlander's way when a group of barbarian archers appear and start loosing arrows into the melee, killing friend and foe alike. As soon as this was waxing a fresh horde of barbarian troops scramble over the palisades and finish off what is left of the highlanders. Lassan points to the leader of the men at arms. The man acknowledges him. Lassan yells. Charge The men at arms run forward to the huge melee of men who are killing each other in a brawl of epic proportions. Lassan watches as a barbarian slashes at a highlander who promptly ducks and then plunges his huge sword up through the barbarians stomach and through his ribcage spraying blood on the other combatants. A fresh wave of barbarians spills over the palisade and the remnants of the empires troops are slowly killed where they stand. The best we can do is die where we stand, the words that he echoed last night kept ringing in Lassan's ears. Assemble the rest of our troops here Lassan yelled at his aide. The last of the troops namely the remnants of the missile troops and his household cavalry. As soon as the troops were formed up Lassan turned to his aide. Tell the king. With that he spurred forward and shouted. For the king With that he turned round and galloped off towards the advancing mass of barbarians. The rest of the troops behind him surged forward after him shouting as they went.
The aide watching saw Lassan charge forward into the mass of barbarians slashing left and right into the mass of enemy troops. He stabbed downwards into the throat of a standard bearer who dropped his standard. Then spurring forwards he sliced of the top of his next opponent's head exposing his brain as this was occurring the rain began to fall heavily, turning the battleground into an instant quagmire. Lassan draws his mace smashing down into the face of a barbarian turning his face into a bloody pulp as he spun away from Lassan and fell on the floor. Lassan then swings down with his sword slicing into a barbarian soldier's chest who instantly falls away.
All of a sudden Lassan broke free from the melee and saw a group of enemy archers standing back from the conflict. Spurring his horse on he galloped towards the archers. The archers and crossbowmen started firing at him, all of a sudden his horse collapsed from underneath him as a crossbow bolt pierces the eye of his charger. Lassan rolled of his horse and slowly started to rise. Thunk, he staggers as a crossbow bolt punctures his armour. Slowly he starts running towards the archers and crossbowmen. Thunk, thunk, two more bolts hit him rocking him backwards but he still keeps going forward. He smashes into the archers and commences butchering them. With ten of the archers lying on the ground dead he finally sinks to his knees. As he watches as the last of his men are hacked to the ground a huge barbarian with a six-foot sword comes towards him and rises the sword. As the sword begins to fall the words the best we can do is die where we stand echoes in his mind. Until his head hit's the muddy ground.
The king stands in the tent listening to the messenger. He turns towards his second in command. Get the men ready.
Hope you enjoyed it, I'll post the next instalment later please feel free to comment.
I have taken onboard some of your comments on the Battle of hells gorge and have done this next piece of work as such, the start is pretty much the same but... well you'll see.
The hot midday sun beat down as the column of men wound its way along the sun baked road. The cloud of dust raised could be seen from miles around as the huge army marched on.
How many my lord? Asked the man at arms
Edging down the side of the hill lord Beverbrook let out a sigh of resignation.
At least five thousand.
The year is 1425. One main power in Europe remains, they are the kingdom of England who subjugated the whole of Europe by the 1300's. Now however the cracks are beginning to show as the powers from the east and North Africa. Tales of the horror spread by the invading armies of the horseman of the devil, strike fear into the hearts of the people. To combat this kings have had to raise huge armies to protect the borders. But despite ever increasing losses they have refused to take the fight to the enemy, and so slowly a great empire is bleeding to death. But the great generals still fight on to protect a once great empire.
The English armies are based on small groups of professional's well-trained and well-equipped soldiers. That defends small border forts. When needed large forces can be bought together behind the lines to meet any great threats.
Lord Beverbrook strode into the command tent. Gentlemen. The assembled men all nodded. Lord Beverbrook addresses the assembled captains of the men he commands. An army of the Golden Hoard is marching towards the town of St Steven's. It numbers somewhere near five thousand men. There is a shocked silence. The first to speak up is Sir Henry Poncenby who commands the cavalry. How many days march are they from the town.
Two.
Sir how can an army of five thousand got this far without being detected. Asks Sir Wallace the commander of the infantry units.
How do you think, we just let them build up large forces outside our borders then we have to pay the price for not destroying them where they come from Bursts out Sir Henry.
Gentlemen, we are faced with a dilemma. As you all know the main army is as we speak stopping a thrust of some ten thousand men from the hoard two hundred miles north of here. As such we have to stop them with our two thousand men.
Before anyone can answer the scout that was left behind to watch the enemy bursts in.
As the assembled group looks at him he slowly collapses revealing the arrow in his back. Sir Fitzherbert immediately starts shouting. Get the physician and the priest in here now
As the physician runs in Sir Henry stands up from the scout he has a look of horror on his face. The physician kneels over the man and shakes his head. Sir Henry did he say anything? Asks Lord Beverbrook.
Ninety thousand
What are you talking about? Asks Lord Beverbrook impatiently.
Before he died he told me what you saw was just an advance guard. The actual army is ninety thousand strong.
A stunned silence ensues.
Ninety thousand, but with the main army away...? Exclaims Sir Fitzherbert.
Immediately Lord Beverbrook starts yelling orders. Get messengers in here now.
What are we doing? My lord asks Sir Henry.
We are going to assemble all the border forces, and stop this army before it can do any damage.
But even all the border forces combined in this sector would barely equal thirty thousand Bursts out Fitzherbert.
If we can destroy at least thirty thousand men the rest of the empire will have a chance to stop them Cries Sir Henry. Every man in the tent looks thoughtful as they consider what has been uttered in the tent.
Then it is settled we shall convene the border forces here, as Lord Beverbrook speaks he plunges his knife into the map lying on the table at the fortress of St George.
Here we will triumph or die trying to protect the empire.
The plain that St George's fortress is situated on is a vast rocky plateau rising fifty metres above the plain, making cavalry virtually useless. Rising out of this is a granite rise that towers another fifty metres. On this Granite rise is the vast fortress of St George. With four terraced levels each with its own curtain wall and barbican as well as culverin turrets culminating in a huge keep that dwarfs all others in comparison. The fortress can hold ten thousand men and when fully provisioned can hold out for twenty years and has a fresh water well. It is also the king's residence in the east of the empire and as fate would have it he was there at the time of the great incursion of the hoard.
The running mass of men charged up towards the defences at the head of the plateau. As soon as the attackers got in range men started to fall in their ranks as the archers and crossbowmen started to loose their arrows into the running mass of men. Slowly the attacking troops began to fall back under the weight of fire and the casualties that they were suffering. With a huge explosion one of the cannons exploded, taking with it it's crew and the neighbouring crew. Incensed by this the attacking barbarians surged forward to the crest of the path battering past the hastily erected palisade. To the men coming up the path there seemed to be a huge explosion of hell as two hundred arbequisers opened up at five metres. The men who had got past the palisade were thrown backwards as a seemingly wall of lead hit's them. Then a unit of Highlanders charge forward tossing back the enemy and following them back down the paths a way until breaking of and rejoining their compatriots on the palisade. The attacking enemy decides not to attempt another attack. And start to withdraw leaving their dead and dying men to their fate. The commander of the crossbowmen comes up to Lord Lassan duke of Normandy. What would you have us do with the prisoners and wounded men milord?
Kill them all, and put their heads on pikes up the approach. As the Duke speaks his eyes do not flicker. As the crossbowman retreats back to his unit, he shivers at the thought of such a man.
As this action is going on the men feverishly prepare the ground upon which they plan to make their stand when the enemy finally breaks through the defences at the head of the path up to the plateau.
Why are we doing this anyhow? Asks one of the archers in the extreme flank of the line. Why do you think. Mutters one of the other men sharpening stakes.
Henry Talbert, commander of the archers and crossbowmen on the flank, strides through and answers the question. The reason is that in that their fortress there isn't enough room for all you lazy layabouts. So were defending our positions so that we won't have to retreat into that fortress. So stop whining and start sharpening
So Lassan how goes the defence?
Sire, we have repulsed two attacks so far causing an estimated two thousand casualties to the enemy whilst suffering only five hundred ourselves. This however includes two of our artillery guns.
Well can you hold them for long, we need time to prepare the ground for when they do break through.
Sire, if they attack again in numbers the same as today the best we can do is die where we stand.
Wallace take your men and clean those palisades of the enemy Lassan watches as Wallace's highlanders rush to the enemy that are climbing over the palisades.
Lassan starts shouting at his aides. Get our men at arms here and formed up
The fight on the palisade is going the highlander's way when a group of barbarian archers appear and start loosing arrows into the melee, killing friend and foe alike. As soon as this was waxing a fresh horde of barbarian troops scramble over the palisades and finish off what is left of the highlanders. Lassan points to the leader of the men at arms. The man acknowledges him. Lassan yells. Charge The men at arms run forward to the huge melee of men who are killing each other in a brawl of epic proportions. Lassan watches as a barbarian slashes at a highlander who promptly ducks and then plunges his huge sword up through the barbarians stomach and through his ribcage spraying blood on the other combatants. A fresh wave of barbarians spills over the palisade and the remnants of the empires troops are slowly killed where they stand. The best we can do is die where we stand, the words that he echoed last night kept ringing in Lassan's ears. Assemble the rest of our troops here Lassan yelled at his aide. The last of the troops namely the remnants of the missile troops and his household cavalry. As soon as the troops were formed up Lassan turned to his aide. Tell the king. With that he spurred forward and shouted. For the king With that he turned round and galloped off towards the advancing mass of barbarians. The rest of the troops behind him surged forward after him shouting as they went.
The aide watching saw Lassan charge forward into the mass of barbarians slashing left and right into the mass of enemy troops. He stabbed downwards into the throat of a standard bearer who dropped his standard. Then spurring forwards he sliced of the top of his next opponent's head exposing his brain as this was occurring the rain began to fall heavily, turning the battleground into an instant quagmire. Lassan draws his mace smashing down into the face of a barbarian turning his face into a bloody pulp as he spun away from Lassan and fell on the floor. Lassan then swings down with his sword slicing into a barbarian soldier's chest who instantly falls away.
All of a sudden Lassan broke free from the melee and saw a group of enemy archers standing back from the conflict. Spurring his horse on he galloped towards the archers. The archers and crossbowmen started firing at him, all of a sudden his horse collapsed from underneath him as a crossbow bolt pierces the eye of his charger. Lassan rolled of his horse and slowly started to rise. Thunk, he staggers as a crossbow bolt punctures his armour. Slowly he starts running towards the archers and crossbowmen. Thunk, thunk, two more bolts hit him rocking him backwards but he still keeps going forward. He smashes into the archers and commences butchering them. With ten of the archers lying on the ground dead he finally sinks to his knees. As he watches as the last of his men are hacked to the ground a huge barbarian with a six-foot sword comes towards him and rises the sword. As the sword begins to fall the words the best we can do is die where we stand echoes in his mind. Until his head hit's the muddy ground.
The king stands in the tent listening to the messenger. He turns towards his second in command. Get the men ready.
Hope you enjoyed it, I'll post the next instalment later please feel free to comment.