The Warrior Hold

[frogbeastegg]

Very nice A highly entertaining read.

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

[JohnCee]

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

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

[JohnCee]

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

[Satyr]

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

[bighairyman]

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

but that belongs to another story.

the end?

sorry for the spelling

[Gregoshi]

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

[frogbeastegg]

Victory

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

[DemonArchangel]

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

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

[Lehesu]

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

Thank you.

[plzhelp]

:hits a few on the bongos:
Ok, enough hippy rhyming.

[terryblack825]

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

[frogbeastegg]

I thought I'd add this story to the collection since it kind of started this whole topic It was originally in the 'Just how bad are you?' topic. It's the story of my first experiences with Shogun: Total War back when it first came out. I've fixed up some minor typo's.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At this point master Full Game stepped in and said

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What goes around comes around

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Monk]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[theadept]

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

[karmastray]

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

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

[Gregoshi]

Greetings karmastray. Welcome aboard...despite the fact that you took my idea for a story. Your telling was better than what I had in mind though.

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

[Monk]

To Valhalla i Ride part 1 of 3


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

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

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

alright... Erik finally agreed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[karmastray]

Quote[/b] (Gregoshi @ July 17 2003,23:59)] Greetings karmastray. Welcome aboard...despite the fact that you took my idea for a story. Your telling was better than what I had in mind though.

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

Hi, thanks Yes, the information is extemely helpful here, it surely helped me to destroy my first (well, second, my first attempt at the game with the Turkish set to hard ended pretty quickly) empire

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Monk]

To Valhalla I Ride part 2 of 3


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Lord_PH]

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

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

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

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

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

[Monk]

To Valhalla I Ride Part 3 of 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Monk]

A good day to die

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

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

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

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

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

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

[karmastray]

Monk, I liked your story, a good Viking tale

Anyhooo...this one is called:

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

Part I

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

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

2 hours later...

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

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

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

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

[karmastray]

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

The End

[Monk]

War in the West part 1 of 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The king turned and said how many prisoners?

forty six answered the soldier.

Kill them all the King said with a deadfull smile.

But...sir?

Do it Leave none alive.

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

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

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

[Monk]

War in the West part 2 of 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[karmastray]

The Education of Prince Suleyman
vol. I


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[karmastray]

The Education of Prince Suleyman
vol. II


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

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

My dearest son, beloved prince Suleyman,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

[karmastray]

The Education of Prince Suleyman
vol. III


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

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

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

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

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

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

Suleyman's knife thudded uselessly to the carpeted floor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[karmastray]

The Education of Prince Suleyman
vol. IV


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

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

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

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

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

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