Al Qasim Hussein
12-18-2002, 22:43
In my HRE game, normal/Early, I produced the general 'Henry the Lion' whom I'm sure several people here have produced mysteriously in the early 1100's. He was a part of a unit of Feudal Sargeants so I counted on him being able to hold his own in a battle.
Until he met the Kataphractoi of 8-star general Comemnus of, naturally enough, the Byzantines.
First off, Henry had incurred some command and morale penalties through lack of fighting as he was in one of my border garrisons along the Byzantine frontier (I believe he was stationed just north of Hungary, just NW of constantinople.) Only a slight reduction, however, so I still felt his abilities (3-star now thanks to being very lazy, etc.) competent to command a force, in defence if nothing else.
Again, that was until he met the Kataphractoi of 8-star general Comemnus of the Byzantines...
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It was a cold, rainy day that only got colder and wetter as time went by. A dreary fog had rolled in as well, making it difficult for 'the Lion's' catapults to target an enemy soon enough to matter. They Byzantines burst out of the fog like an explosion, shattering a group of xbowmen that couldnt get behind their infantrymen fast enough. Although his feudal infantry held well up and down the line, and more Xbowmen and archers peppered the forces with what ammunition they had that wasn't ruined by the weather, things were going badly. Some Highland Clansmen and Vikings, units with proud traditions stretching back hundreds of years, sprang from some nearby woods to fall upon the backs of the Byzantine warriors, breaking their morale and sending several Urban Militiamen and even some of the fierce, and quite dreaded, Byzantine Infantry...
Henry the Lion bravely assumed his place on the infantry line, replacing a decimated unit of Feudal Sargeants who had fought well and would have their songs sung by the bards for decades come no doubt. Arranging his men about him, he assumed protection of his army's left flank...
The fog must have muffled the hoofbeats...
From out of the mist thundered forty of the pride of General Comemnus' army, Kataphractoi of unprecedented valor. Like a wave they crashed against Henry's men, only to be repulsed again and again but nevertheless inflicting what would prove to be decisive casualties.
Moments after this assault, the enemy rallied and again charged Henry's position en masse. The flat, rolling plains of Eastern Europe allowed no terrain advantage to Henry's weary men, and they braced themselves to meet their foes again man on man. The catapult crewmen, taking their ease near their weapons - now rendered useless by the proximity of the enemy - looked on in horror as the mighty Henry the Lion's sargeants, upon absorbing yet another charge by the Kataphractoi of doom, broke and ran for their lives. The crewmen were overrun and slaughtered to a man. Worse than that, however, was the fact that the line had been penetrated and the Kats were loose behind the infantry
While the Vikings and Clansmen that weren't engaged in another reard assault on the Byz. infantry and Urban Militias who were locked in mortal combat along the Empire's lines rushed to halt the Kats advance, Henry the Lion, Henry the Hapless, Henry the ignoble coward of the Eastern Steppes, hightailed it for the gentler, peaceful provinces of the Western portion of the empire as fast as his booted feet could carry him along with the 12 of his cowardly cohorts who survived.
The day was saved through the noble efforts of the Scottish and Scandanavians, as well as the Feudal Sargeants who refused to give in to their panic over their general's wussitude, and one should not forget the bold Xbowmen and archers who snuck behind the enemy to fire wantonly at friend and foe alike in order to stop the Byzantine thrust, and really let us give thanks to every single unit (even the dear departed catapulteers) who remained on the field of battle to win the day...except, of course, for Henry the Lamb who ran like a little girl despite winning every confrontation he had during the day, and despite the rear assaults that were helping him out, and despite the fact that when he bolted like a rabbit for its hole he had more than twice the # of men his opponents.
Henry sits in a castle in Bavaria now, well away from the borders of the great Holy Roman Empire. Now stripped of the crown of Sicily, plagued by a reputation that includes tales of running from the field screaming like a girl, unable to inspire so much as a wet kleenex to fight for his nation, he sits sucking his thumb and thinking of what might have been...
Alas for poor Henry, the bards sing his tale of woe...
Until he met the Kataphractoi of 8-star general Comemnus of, naturally enough, the Byzantines.
First off, Henry had incurred some command and morale penalties through lack of fighting as he was in one of my border garrisons along the Byzantine frontier (I believe he was stationed just north of Hungary, just NW of constantinople.) Only a slight reduction, however, so I still felt his abilities (3-star now thanks to being very lazy, etc.) competent to command a force, in defence if nothing else.
Again, that was until he met the Kataphractoi of 8-star general Comemnus of the Byzantines...
------------------------------------------------------------
It was a cold, rainy day that only got colder and wetter as time went by. A dreary fog had rolled in as well, making it difficult for 'the Lion's' catapults to target an enemy soon enough to matter. They Byzantines burst out of the fog like an explosion, shattering a group of xbowmen that couldnt get behind their infantrymen fast enough. Although his feudal infantry held well up and down the line, and more Xbowmen and archers peppered the forces with what ammunition they had that wasn't ruined by the weather, things were going badly. Some Highland Clansmen and Vikings, units with proud traditions stretching back hundreds of years, sprang from some nearby woods to fall upon the backs of the Byzantine warriors, breaking their morale and sending several Urban Militiamen and even some of the fierce, and quite dreaded, Byzantine Infantry...
Henry the Lion bravely assumed his place on the infantry line, replacing a decimated unit of Feudal Sargeants who had fought well and would have their songs sung by the bards for decades come no doubt. Arranging his men about him, he assumed protection of his army's left flank...
The fog must have muffled the hoofbeats...
From out of the mist thundered forty of the pride of General Comemnus' army, Kataphractoi of unprecedented valor. Like a wave they crashed against Henry's men, only to be repulsed again and again but nevertheless inflicting what would prove to be decisive casualties.
Moments after this assault, the enemy rallied and again charged Henry's position en masse. The flat, rolling plains of Eastern Europe allowed no terrain advantage to Henry's weary men, and they braced themselves to meet their foes again man on man. The catapult crewmen, taking their ease near their weapons - now rendered useless by the proximity of the enemy - looked on in horror as the mighty Henry the Lion's sargeants, upon absorbing yet another charge by the Kataphractoi of doom, broke and ran for their lives. The crewmen were overrun and slaughtered to a man. Worse than that, however, was the fact that the line had been penetrated and the Kats were loose behind the infantry
While the Vikings and Clansmen that weren't engaged in another reard assault on the Byz. infantry and Urban Militias who were locked in mortal combat along the Empire's lines rushed to halt the Kats advance, Henry the Lion, Henry the Hapless, Henry the ignoble coward of the Eastern Steppes, hightailed it for the gentler, peaceful provinces of the Western portion of the empire as fast as his booted feet could carry him along with the 12 of his cowardly cohorts who survived.
The day was saved through the noble efforts of the Scottish and Scandanavians, as well as the Feudal Sargeants who refused to give in to their panic over their general's wussitude, and one should not forget the bold Xbowmen and archers who snuck behind the enemy to fire wantonly at friend and foe alike in order to stop the Byzantine thrust, and really let us give thanks to every single unit (even the dear departed catapulteers) who remained on the field of battle to win the day...except, of course, for Henry the Lamb who ran like a little girl despite winning every confrontation he had during the day, and despite the rear assaults that were helping him out, and despite the fact that when he bolted like a rabbit for its hole he had more than twice the # of men his opponents.
Henry sits in a castle in Bavaria now, well away from the borders of the great Holy Roman Empire. Now stripped of the crown of Sicily, plagued by a reputation that includes tales of running from the field screaming like a girl, unable to inspire so much as a wet kleenex to fight for his nation, he sits sucking his thumb and thinking of what might have been...
Alas for poor Henry, the bards sing his tale of woe...