cassiusdio
12-01-2006, 01:18
Were it not for a great battle, the small crossing over the Euphrates would have passed throgh the anals of history without notice. The bridge itself was of unspectacular construction, unsoectacular but of solid build nonthe less, a Remnant of the once great Roman Empire. Thousands of feet had crossed the Bridge every year since Roman Times, and the iver had been forded in the same place for countless generations before that. only rarely had anyone tried to prevent a person crossing, but that was mostly petty brigands intent on robbing travellers and merchants.
Today was different, the Golden Horde had cut a bloody path from Bagdad to the Euphrates, driving farmers and nobles alike before them, none it seemed could stop them, none could defeat the overwhelming power of the Mongols, none would try, they were content to prostitute themselves before a new master, or hide behind their stone walls in terror, none would stand except the Order of the Knights of Saint John.
They had sworn an Oath to protect the holy land, and the pilgrims who would visit it, Christian and muslim alike, and defend it they would, with their blood, their sweat, and their very lives should they be called upon to do so.
This bridge, that had passed through a millenium inconspicuously was about to see the most bloody battle of an age, perhaps of any age.
Rank upon rank of christian soldiers stood, shifting their feet nervously, the army was the mightiest host that had been seen in the holy land for a generation, Its wealth and soldiers made possible by the generous Duke of Milan, Duke Puccio, the same duke who'd father had led the crusade that had wrested the holy land from the infidels, aand the same duke who had made sure the holy land stayed a Christian realm. Fully Twenty Thousand warriors stood here, each a knight, each bore the sign of the cross on his chest and on his shield. their general, the Duke himself bore the spear of destiny, an artefact so powerful that with it he could conquer the world.
The overconfidence of the Knights was soon dispelled, the ground shook under horses hooves, a great dustcloud had been growing, and out of it came a vision that made the hearts of men sink into their boots, from one end of the Horison to the other, a mass of warriors so vast, it seemed they would choke the entire Land in boddies.
the horde came closer, stoppin on the far bank, just out of bowshot, and a single rider rode forward, he crossed the bridge unoposed to deliver his message.
'If you stand aside and allow us to pass, your lives will be spared, if you do not, every last one of you will Die here this day'
The Duke simply laughed
The only way you or any of your rabble will cross this bridge, is if you kill every last man here, and, by the looks of you, you are not up to the task. If YOU lay down your arms and surrender, then i will spare your lives, if not then i will personally cut off all of your heads and mount them on pikes for the whole world to see
If that is your will let the gods decide who will be triumphant this day
He returned to his general, and after a moment, the horde began to move...
To be continued
Today was different, the Golden Horde had cut a bloody path from Bagdad to the Euphrates, driving farmers and nobles alike before them, none it seemed could stop them, none could defeat the overwhelming power of the Mongols, none would try, they were content to prostitute themselves before a new master, or hide behind their stone walls in terror, none would stand except the Order of the Knights of Saint John.
They had sworn an Oath to protect the holy land, and the pilgrims who would visit it, Christian and muslim alike, and defend it they would, with their blood, their sweat, and their very lives should they be called upon to do so.
This bridge, that had passed through a millenium inconspicuously was about to see the most bloody battle of an age, perhaps of any age.
Rank upon rank of christian soldiers stood, shifting their feet nervously, the army was the mightiest host that had been seen in the holy land for a generation, Its wealth and soldiers made possible by the generous Duke of Milan, Duke Puccio, the same duke who'd father had led the crusade that had wrested the holy land from the infidels, aand the same duke who had made sure the holy land stayed a Christian realm. Fully Twenty Thousand warriors stood here, each a knight, each bore the sign of the cross on his chest and on his shield. their general, the Duke himself bore the spear of destiny, an artefact so powerful that with it he could conquer the world.
The overconfidence of the Knights was soon dispelled, the ground shook under horses hooves, a great dustcloud had been growing, and out of it came a vision that made the hearts of men sink into their boots, from one end of the Horison to the other, a mass of warriors so vast, it seemed they would choke the entire Land in boddies.
the horde came closer, stoppin on the far bank, just out of bowshot, and a single rider rode forward, he crossed the bridge unoposed to deliver his message.
'If you stand aside and allow us to pass, your lives will be spared, if you do not, every last one of you will Die here this day'
The Duke simply laughed
The only way you or any of your rabble will cross this bridge, is if you kill every last man here, and, by the looks of you, you are not up to the task. If YOU lay down your arms and surrender, then i will spare your lives, if not then i will personally cut off all of your heads and mount them on pikes for the whole world to see
If that is your will let the gods decide who will be triumphant this day
He returned to his general, and after a moment, the horde began to move...
To be continued