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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Battle of Durazzo 1226
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The Austrian household army had briefly besieged the City of Durazzo. Before the siege Jonas had instructed the commanders of the army including Arnold of Austria who had joined the army.
"Gentlemen this isnt really a siege. There are lot more Venetian troops inside Durazzo then we have. As my son Erhart is not far from this army,our plan is to lure the Venetians out of the city and destroy them."
Arnold replied.
"Von Mahren.Isnt this bit risky? Why do we have to take a such an risk,when we dont have to take Durazzo at first place,since Duke Leopold´s intention was just to ravage the Venetian land and not to conquer it. Didnt we already give them a blow enough when you destroyed their army on that pass near this place?"
Jonas looked at the younger man and was impressed on his wits.
"Those are all valid points,but i think that if we leave Durazzo be,the Venetians will strike us at the back when we turn our attention in other directions. I take full responsibility on this tactics and i think the risk is worth taking.The men didnt run in front of Venetian knights,i doubt they will when facing militia either.
Arnold nodded,but muttered to himself.
"It may be so,but when i take charge of this army this kind of tactics will not be used."
After few hours,a Venetian messeger brought a word to Doge Benasuto of Venice who was at Durazzo.
"Sir,sorry to interrupt you,but there is a minor problem."
"What kind of problem?"
Doge asked and continued
"Speak up man! Have the troops caused trouble again in the city or what is this about?"
The messenger swallowed heavily and sayed.
"Well...Sir.We are besieged...Not technically speaking surrounded,but there is a middle sized German army in front of our front gate and they are cutting down trees to make siege engines."
Doge Benasuto took a carefull look at the man in front of him and sayed.
"You are aware of the consequences of drinking while in duty? Why would Germans besiege us,when they dont have an army as large as ours inside 100 kilometers or even more?"
The messenger answered.
"Yes,sir!Im not drunk infact havent touched a beer this day, but the fact remains the Germans are outside the city and it seems they want to battle."
Doge scratched his head and after a minute or so of thinking he sayed.
"Well then.Sound an assembly.I think we should go meet the grazy Germans and give them a lesson."
Meanwhile outside the walls Jonas was sitting on his horse and talking with Arnold when the sounds of drumming and warhorns started inside the city.Jonas sayed to Arnold.
"I think you can order the men to abandon the work on siege engines and line up the right flank,becouse i think that we will soon have company. We have a hell of a fight coming.I trust that you will lead the right with honour.I will do my best on the left."
Arnold rode off to the right and just as Jonas was about to give orders for assembling the left wing of the battle line, a loud sound of warhorn came from North East. Jonas sayed to his trusted Teuton that had followed him from the holy land.
"The boy is right on time."
The Teuton named Wolf replied with a smile on his face.
"Well he shure as hell doesnt come to his father."
Jonas laughed and slapped his trusted knight on the back.Then he commanded the battle line to assemble.Meanwhile the Italians opened the gates and swarms of soldiers raced out from them.
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Von Mahren and Arnold respectfully ordered all the crossbows to start loosing arrows on the Venetians while they were trying to get their units ready for attack,the arrows made heavy toll on the Italians.
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For a while it looked like the arows were causing panic among the soldiers,but after a short time,with a large roar. The Italian mass of infantry crashed the thin black and yellow line of Germans on foot and a heavy fight started.Some of the German crossbows couldnt get away from charging Venetians and they had to draw swords also.
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For a time the battle raged and with all their effort,the Knights of Jonas and Arnold were able to keep the flanks of the army together. Jonas constantly keeped his eye on the the nearing force of his son.The Knights were gallopping on full speed and the few crossbowmen behind were far away as Erhart raced towards the battle.
When Jonas saw that his son was almost ther he commanded his own body guards to move to meet the new comers.There was not much time to talk,becouse the battle was in critical phase as the German foot knights and spearmen massacred the Italian levies,while more and more attacked them.Jonas cryed to Erhart,as they met.
"Wellcome! Lets flank the bastards you take the left side and i will form on the right and keep contact to our own flank. Now Charge!"
Erhart had just the time to say.
"Greetings! Lovely gathering you have here!"
The next minute the mounted knight units crashed the Italian right flank with devastating effect.
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On the German right flank Arnold was desperately pushing back the Italian flankers who were trying to roll up his line.He ordered even the crossbows to melee to drive the flankers away. Striking with his sword,left and right he yelled.
"Hold the flank!Hold the flank or we are all dead!"
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On the left Erhard and Jonas had scattered the Italian right flank,but just as the Italian spearmen were running away,Erhart and his men met the Doge´s bodyguards.
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Jonas tryed to fight his way towards his sone yelling him to stop,but to no avail.Erhart was crushing the Venetians under the hooves of his horse and it seemed nothing could stop the young man. Just as he smashed through another rank of spearmen the Italian knights charged at his men. Jonas could see his son striking down many of them,but suddenly the crest of Erharts helmet disappeared in the crowd. The young Lion was down. Erhart could feel as the Italian spear from beneath him strucked on his lower back. He turned around and dropped the head of the spearman who struck him with single blow from his sword. He turned around and was only able to see the Italian lance coming towards his chest. The lance went straight through his stomach,but still Erhart gathered his remaining strength and smashed his sword on chest of the Knight that pierced him with his lance. Then it seemed as if the time was getting slower.
Erhart wondered why he didnt feel any pain. Then his vision blurred and the young knight dropped from the saddle.
On the right flank Arnold turned around when he he heard the agonizing roar of Jonas.
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Jonas had smashed his way through the crowd,but he was too late. He saw his eldest son, dead and bloodied in the muddy ground. At that moment something snapped in his head. He raised his eyes on the Doge and his men who had just slain his son and all that came from his mouth was a terrible roar.
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"Doge Benasuto!"
Jonas Von Mahren went berserk.He galloped straight in the midst of the Doges bodyguards killing everything that got on his way.No orders came from his mouth,he just kep roaring The Venetian Doge´s name over and over. As he was calling him to an duel.
The whole German army entered the same state of mind and now nothing could stop them.Just as minutes a go,the Venetians were pushing them almost to the ground now the Germans ripped through the Venetians,giving no quarter.
Jonas butchered his way through the Venetian Doge and duel was about to commense as the two got some room,but like many times in battle a German foot knight couldnt see the situation and striked down the Venetian Doge from behind.
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Soon the Germans on foot ran over the dead Doge and started chasing the fleeing Venetians to the city.
For a while Jonas just sat on his horse and watched the corpse of the Doge. No one dared to confront him and the troops followed the Venetians into the city killing and burning everything.
Soon Jonas was alone on the field with only corpses and wounded as his company. He dismounted from his horse. Walked to the dead body of his son and dragged him under a tree,where just sat byrying his face on his hands. After the battle he ordered the extermination of the city and killing of all the prisoners,basicly that order had already been fulfilled already. Also Arnold was knighted and he took over the command of the army.
Jonas gave orders to Wolf to go inform the Diet and gave Erhart´s sword with the Teuton. After that he ordered to move Erharts body to his own tent where he spent the night with his dead son,crying, just as much any father ever could.
Butchers Bill:
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The battle of Southern Syria, 1226 AD
Henry let the scroll fall to the floor. “We assassinated a Princess?” he asked Horst incredulously.
The young Teuton could not meet the Kaiser’s eye. “A French Princess by the name of Agnesot.” he mumbled.
Henry shook his head. “May God have mercy on her soul, and ours. How many more assassinations have we been behind?”
Horst shrugged: “I do not know, Sire, it seems there are several mentioned each Diet report. You now have a reputation for being fine with political murders.”
Henry’s face darkened: “Not once in my time in office as Chancellor did I authorise an assassin to so much as get out of bed, let alone kill a young woman! I promised Hans my support on condition that he would follow the path of light and this is road he follows. I told him we were cursed: that if he was Kaiser, every blow from our assassins would scar his immortal soul. And now the father must pay for the sins of the son.”
Horst tried to placate him: “Sire, this is beyond your control. And it could have been worse - Prinz Hummel could been elected.”
Henry spat out contemptuously: “At least with that snake you knew where you stood.”
Then, as rapidly as it had arrived, the fire seemed to leave Henry and he slumped back in his seat.
“The Reich seems set on a path of remorseless expansion. Rheims sacked, Paris sacked, Durazzo sacked, Sofia … no doubt due to be sacked. We are marauding across Europe. We are no different from the horse lords. At least they have the decency not to worship a loving god or spout balderdash about chivalry…”
Horst looked alarmed: “My lord, you are beginning to sound like Kolar again!”
Henry looked at Horst pityingly: “Kolar taught me many things. His words taught me that just because the church says one thing does not make it right. And his actions taught me that just because an act is expedient for your kingdom does not make it right either.”
It was not clear to Henry whether Horst understood his meaning or not, but it did not matter. Looking at the Teuton’s mutilated hands, the Kaiser had no inclination to debate the merits and failings of the monster who inflicted that torture.
“I am too old for this. Too old to be a puppet, a figurehead, for the new generation.” Henry paused, watching the figure of Kurt Altman come into his tent. “I am weary. And I am losing my touch. I thought I could just march out and attack the horse lords. It took my son to remind me that, by the Charter, I required Diet approval first.”
Kurt saluted the Kaiser and said almost under his breath: “Well, that at least is one thing you won’t have to worry about, Sire.”
*****
Kurt heard the Kaiser give the opening speech - the veteran warrior thought he could detect in it something of young Elberhard, especially the Kaiser’s quip that his men should feel pity for the Mongols and ”especially their horses to support such boney arses.”. However, there was something more authentic in Henry’s closing call to his men to ”pray, you brave fools.”.
Seeking to replay the victory at Antioch, Henry deployed on the highest piece of ground he could find. However, it was but a gentle slope. The Imperial left was anchored by some heights, but the right was wide open and this was where Henry placed most of his cavalry, including his own escort.
It seemed only moments before Mongol heavy archers were moving fast towards the pavise crossbows stationed on the right of the Imperial line. Damnation, cursed Kurt and he urged the supporting heavy infantry forward to protect his missile troops. They caught the first Mongol regiment just in time.
While the heavy archers seemed to stumble into their charge, the Mongol attack on the German centre right was more deliberate. First, light lancers struck, followed by heavy lancers and soon even the Mongol general, Bayan the Wrathful, joined the assault.
For a moment, Kurt imagined that the centre would hold. Stout German spearmen could perhaps hold off the finest Mongol cavalry. But then he realised that what was missing was heart - as a regiment of sergeant spearmen started to break and run to the rear, it looked as if the whole Imperial position would collapse. Kurt heard the Kaiser cry:
“Send in the cavalry! Orders to the regiments on the right: forward charge! Bodyguard, ride with me!”
The fighting was hectic and brutal - Henry hand no time to carefully manoeuvre his army; his aides had only one instruction - to ride along the line and make sure that every regiment was in action.
Eventually, the sheer weight of the Imperial forces committed - eight regiments of foot and five of horse - prevailed over the seven regiments of Mongol horse in the melee. But it would not be fair to say the Mongols broke. They merely died. If the odd regiment did rout, it was only to rally seconds later and return to the fray. Soon all that was left of entire Mongol regiments was a single horseman or two, still wandering the battlefield looking for a fight.
Once through the Mongol cavalry, Kurt saw Henry rejoice to see below clumps of Mongol infantry and archers. The Kaiser had been studiously ignoring the throngs of light Mongol horse archers still unengaged. He knew from bitter experience with the Mameluks that sending German cavalry in pursuit of such foes was a fool’s errand - the cavalry would be whittled down and never catch their enemy, or even bitterly regret it when they did finally come to blows. No, the Kaiser was too savy to chase horse archers, but Mongol infantry could not flee.
“Hah!” shouted Henry. “There they are, boys! At ‘em!”
After the battle, Kurt wondered if Henry had failed as a commander that day - if his tactics of headlong charges into the enemy were crude and inefficient. But at the time, there was no time. Everything happened so quickly - the chaos of battle was so great, any careful manoeuvring seemed impossible. And when a regiment was out of combat, the relentless archery from the Mongol horse was withering. A regiment of halberd militia was reduced from 80 to 20 merely marching from its victorious melee against the Mongol heavy cavalry down to meet the Mongol infantry. The Kaiser reasoned that the safest place for any German to be was at the throat of a Mongol and even with the wisdom of hindsight, Kurt could not quarrel with that.
The only Germans who were not in melee or racing towards it that day were the pavise crossbowmen in the rear. If Henry did make one mistake that battle, it was in taking his eye of the enemy general, Bayan the Wrathful, who we last left locked in the opening central melee. Bayan was a mighty warlord, cruel and cunning, driven by rage. Somehow while his heavy cavalry were dying all around him in the central melee, he broke through to the rear.
There, he lay about the pavise crossbowmen, charging into regiment after regiment with only a handful of fellow riders to guard him. Slowly, the German command realised what was happening behind its lines, but it lacked any reserves to counter the marauding warlord. Eventually almost all the regiments of crossbows in the army were tasked with shooting down the Mongol general.
“Stand and fight! He is only one man! Shoot him! Shoot him!”
Bayan was soon stripped of his escort, but his own fine armour seemed impervious to even the steel stringed arbalests of the Germans. Volley after volley of the crossbowmen succeeded only in killing their own kind, the unfortunate ones that Bayan visited on his own indomitable solo charges.
Eventually, the inevitable happened.
It will never be known with certainty, but from discussions after the battle, Kurt came to the conclusion that Bayan alone probably claimed more crossbowmen’s lives than all seven regiments of Mongol horse archers.
Shortly after Bayan’s death - and even perhaps as a consequence of it - Henry finally broke through the Mongol infantry. Unlike their mounted counterparts, significant numbers of the Mongol foot did turn and run. Whether they could possibly have known of their leader’s death, far to the German rear, Kurt was never sure. But Mongol communications and battlefield coordination were exemplary, so it could not be ruled out.
Kurt looked at Henry - he seemed almost maddened and cried out, fierce in battle:
“There’s still more of them lads! Look, down there! The foot archers! Charge!”
While the German centre was charging forward, smashing into regiment after regiment of Mongol foot, the flanks were suffering grievously from the Mongol horse archers. On the German right, when the horse archers had sufficiently weakened a regiment of mailed knights and one of sergeant spearmen, the Mongols closed in for the kill and routed them. It was now a bloody war of attrition - a race to see who could kill the most, the fastest: the Germans on the centre or the Mongols on the flanks.
Such was the ferocity of the fighting that it seemed to die out suddenly, but with almost every Mongol on the field dead or, in the case of some foot, captured. Only one enemy regiment of any significance remained at the end: a unit of Mongol infantry that had rallied and returned to the fight.
After the battle, Henry wandered the battlefield whispering:
“My knights, my poor knights, where are they all gone?”
His cavalry had been almost annihilated, along with most of his spearmen and a good proportion of the rest of his troops.
“I must contact Otto and Leopold immediately.” breathed Henry to Kurt Altman. “It is most urgent.”
If one Mongol stack could do this while attacking, how would Leopold’s crusade fare against three Mongol stacks each with the advantage of defence?
*****
After the battle, Kurt Altman presented Henry with 240 Mongol prisoners and asked about their fate. Henry looked conflicted, the bitterness of his losses and his newfound ferocity in battle darkening his countenance. But then he seemed to soften, as if his true nature reasserted himself.
“Those men do not have riding boots. They are almost all infantry. And infantry we can deal with. I have heard the Mongols have a considerable war chest from all their depravations. Let them spend some of it to get those fellows back. Besides - the Mongols want to come to Christian civilisation. Let us show them how civilised men wage war.”
Kurt nodded, unsurprised to see his master’s chivalry emerge even under this most extraordinary of trials. But the veteran warrior was equally unsurprised when the heartless horse lord Khan refused the ransom and invited the Germans to put to the sword those Mongols unworthy enough to surrender rather than die fighting.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Assault on the citadel of Sofia, 1228 AD
Hans grabbed the note from the ragged messenger and gestured to Dirk to pay him. Inpatiently, he scrolled it open and read the few lines that had been scribbled rather hastily onto it.
Good Hans thought out loud, managing to raise Adalberth's eyebrow. "It is time we pressed on to capture Sofia", spoke Hans "tell the men to break camp." "My young lord, how are we to take this mighty citadel without any siege equipment if I may ask?" Adalberth looked clearly confused. "This message my good man is from our spy within. He has managed to put the guard captain to sleep and steal his uniform. The gates are wide open for us." "Oh, then we should truly make haste."
It had been a long journey from the hills to the east to this castle. Truly impressive were Hans first thoughts when he had seen it. It would be his first time attacking such a well defended place, for Hungarian reinforcements were rumored to be arriving from north west and both the citadel and the reinforcements would exclusively be knights on foot.
Hans did not wish to lose valuable time on long speeches and decided to only speak of bravery so his men would stand their ground against the hard odds that they were facing. His mounted knights and crossbowmen would be of little help this day and his spearmen would at best be able to hold their ground against the enemy prince - if they even got that far.
After his short speech, Hans held up high the grail that he had received from his father and asked his men "Do you know what this is, soldiers of the empire? This is the most holy grail and it is rumored that it will grant vigor and salvation to any chivalrous man who gives his best in battle, whatever the odds!" His men would need all the encouragement they could get, for today would be a long battle. Hans walked over to the Feudal knights to his right and gave the commander orders to ride as quickly as he could to the northwest to intercept the Hungarian reinforcements before they would reach the citadel. To the mailed knights, he commanded to stand their ground and screen against any armies that could have been missed in their back. Hans would not be taking any chances today.
As usual, Hans put himself at the front of his army and rode through the widely opened first gate, his infantry far behind him, and decided to charge the first best target he could see: a regiment of dismounted chivalric knights, ignoring the feudals scrambling for the inner gate.
The Chivalric knights quickly ran up the small hill surrounding the walls to prevent being impaled completely, and only a quarter of their men fell to the initial charge.
However, they were distraught over the masses of German infantry pouring through the entrance gate and their comrades running for their lives and started to flee.
Hans pursued and captured every one of them while ordering his infantry to keep moving forward and take the second gate.
Meanwhile, the tired Feudal knights were in the vincinity of the reinforcements.
The commander urged his knights to charge the footknight regiment with which the enemy captain travelled with success: The captain was impaled by an Imperial lance immediately, but his men did not flee, contrary to what the commander had expected.
Back in the citadel, some knights were still on the battlements manning the towers that shot mercilessly at his men, but as they noticed how the gates fell, they abandoned their positions and headed for the inner gate. They were intercepted and surrounded by Hans' men, yet put up a good fight, not a single one of them abandoning their oath to their nation.
The Feudal knight commander kept charging his knights into the flanks of his enemy and finally, some of them started to break and run even faster towards the citadel. "Damnation" he shouted and urged his men to fight even harder, but several knights got entangled and fell to the footknights. Eventually, all of the reinforcements routed except for the leaderless footknight regiment at the front which made it through the gate and now held its ground against the mounted knights. After what seemed like hours, the footknights had yet to lose more than a handful of men while the feudal knights were starting to waver as their commander was struck and fell off his horse. The second in command quickly had the knights retreat out the citadel, causing the footknights to cheer and march on towards the citadel's main plaza: A mistake, for the second in command was no fool and his feint worked perfectly, as he charged into the rear of the footknights, finally routing them.
Hans was the first to ride through the last gate of this wretched citadel. I had never expected this place to be this big he noted to himself. My men look weary, I wonder whether they will hold up against the fresh troops in the plaza, who are fighting for their lives, their homes, their fortune. But this was no time for doubts as he clenched his fists around his sword and ordered his men to charge the Magyar prince head on.
Hans motioned to his crossbowmnen to screen off the enemy footknights coming down the walls so they would not be able to interfere, albeit at a high cost to these meek missile troops.
Adalberth, at the back of Hans' entourage shouted to the spearmen to run faster and infiltrate the ranks of the prince's bodyguard, which they did under heavy casualties. It was worth it however as soon half the bodyguard lay dead on the floor.
Hans meanwhile ordered his footknights to run around the back of the enemy and strike their rear.
The results were devastating, even though his footknights were exhausted. Enemy knights fell like petals from a rose under blows from German steel.
However not all was well at the other side of the citadel, for the Feudal knights, while pursuing the cowardly reinforcements ran into a footknight ambush at the second inner gate and fell quickly to their blades, running for their lives.
Hans however did not know what was happening at the other end of the citadel. All he cared about was to bring down the enemy prince and claim victory this day. It would not be long that his wish be fulfilled as the prince, struck both by Hans and several footknights fell from his horse.
Without their leader and the Germans having finally managed to mount their flag on top of the citadel, the remaining knights accepted their fate and surrended to Hans.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
"GONE?! What do you mean they are gone?!"
The Austrian peasant gulped, confusion clouding his face.
"M'lord...?"
Lothar Steffen grabbed the man by his shirt and yanked him forward.
"WHERE?!"
"Er... uh... Ea... East. M'lord. East, m'lord."
The Bavarian youth let out a bellow of rage; his face crimson and his veins throbbing. He shoved the peasant away forcefully, then turned and looked towards the rising sun. The man stumbled and fell into the dirt. He was too stunned to stand up. Why is he not happy? The Hungarian army is gone! It is certain victory.
The eldest of the Steffen brothers turned back to the dirty form sprawled on the ground. "How many are left?"
"Uh, not many m'lord. Not many at all. Just ruffians and merchants, no proper soldiers. Some with bows, some with axes, and a small mounted contingent." The man's eyes flicked over the ranks of armored knights and spearmen standing stretching down the road. "Nothing to compare with your men, m'lord."
Lothar Steffen scream in frustration.
It cannot be like this! Not like this! This was to be my grand blooding! The battle that would bring me fame and glory. A fearless General and his small group of loyal soldiers facing insurmountable odds against a vicious foe! All for the salvation of the innocent citizens of the Reich!
Lothar spat on the ground.
Outnumbered three to one! Hell, even two to one would have sounded good in the taverns. We outnumber them now two to one. How can I ever receive a Knighthood for a squabble like this? No one in the Diet will even notice the battle!
He shook his head and stared at the horizon. Smoke from the early morning fires could be seen rising from the distant smudge that was Zagreb. Smoke from cooking fires. The city was waking; breakfast was being prepared.
I have already left a large host behind to prove myself. If taking a small host was enough to get me noticed once, perhaps it will work again.
The Bavarian turned back to the peasant. He was on his feet again and was attempting to brush the dirt from what passed for his clothing.
"You."
The man stopped and looked up, a wary expression on his face.
"Yes, you. Go back to the city. Find some vagabonds and tell them that I will pay each of them half a silver florin if they open all of the city gates when my men come."
The peasant bowed. "Y.. Yes m'lord." He paused. "Now, m'lord?"
"YES BLOODY NOW!" Lothar put his hand on his scabbard and started to draw his sword, but the man was already off and running. The teenager turned to his lieutenants.
"Split the regiments into three groups. Send one each to the North, East, and South gates of the city. I want them to take the gatehouses and prevent anyone from fleeing the city."
One of the men cocked his head. "What of the west gate?"
"I will enter at the west gate with my personal guard. I will deal with the garrison personally. Once the gates are secured and you are sure that none can slip pass, advance through the streets towards the town square. Herd all the Hungarians you can find towards that spot, but do not, DO NOT, attack them. Do you understand me?"
The men all nodded. "Good, now go!"
One way or another, I am going to have my glory.
...
The gates pealed open before him, just as expected. He didn't even have to slow his mount to a walk. The first man into the city, that should count for something.
He paused momentary when he cleared the walls. Turning his head from side to side, Lothar realized quickly that there was no opposition to be found. He let out another yelp of frustration. "FIND ME SOMEONE TO KILL!"
They rode through the city, making as much noise as possible. Austrian heads poked out of windows to see what the commotion was about. After several minutes, the commoners started vanishing quickly, followed by the sound of crossboards being thrown across doors and windows. When they rounded the next corner, they found a large group of mounted swordsmen facing them. Lothar shrieked with joy and charged.
He had fought dozens of opponents in hundreds of individual combats during his short life, but it had always been with blunted practice weapons; the killing blow held back. Now, for the first time, he felt the added resistance as his sword dug into a body. He looked into the face of his wounded opponent and saw disbelief. He pulled back his arm and marveled at the extra strength required to drag his blade from its living scabbard. The dying wish to keep the instrument of their demise. Blood fountained.
Lothar laughed and turned to find his next victim. The Hungarian horse outnumbered his men two to one, but they were poorly trained. Half of them fell before the first of his own bodyguard was unhorsed. Through the din of battle, the pounding of boots could be heard further down the street. A large body of unarmored archers turned the corner and saw the battle. They drew long, curved swords rushed to support their horsemen. Lothar whooped with glee and kicked his horse into the thickest part of the melee.
Metal rang on metal. The shrieks of death surrounded him, echoing off the walls of the city. Echoing... He turned in his saddle and saw a group of Hungarian axemen assaulting a wall of Bavarian knights in the town square. His regiments had completed their cordon and arrived in the city as ordered. Despite the long axes, the Hungarians were not faring well. There were nearly fifty bodies scattered in the square and Lothar could not see a single Imperial uniform amongst them. They are dying too fast! They must fight harder!
He pulled back from the lines and galloped to his knights. "Pull back! Let them have the square! Do not attack these men!" The Bavarians looked at him and hesitated. He pointed his bloodied sword at the nearest knight. "I SAID PULL BACK!" He did not wait to see them comply, the axemen were going nowhere and his bodyguard were still heavily engaged. Only moments after he rejoined the struggle, the remaining horsemen broke and attempted to flee.
"STAND AND FIGHT! STAND AND FIGHT YOU COWARDLY BASTARDS!" Lothar began cutting down the fleeing Hungarians, but none would face him. His men followed suit and soon every last mounted foe was down. He turned his full fury on the archers, who were falling even faster than their brethren had. "Fight like men damn you!"
More footsteps thundered on the pavement and two regiments of Bavarian foot appeared in the rear of the Hungarians. Lothar gestured at them frantically. "DO NOT ATTACK! STAY WHERE YOU ARE AND HOLD YOUR GROUND! GODDAMN IT I SAID HOLD YOUR GROUND!" By this point his own guards were beginning to look at him warily. I will have my battle and the rest be damned!
But the young general's bloodlust was too much for the Hungarians and they attempted to flee as well. Lothar screamed in frustration. "No quarter! No quarter!" Another massacre began.
After a few moments, only the handful of axemen in the town square were left standing. They had slain over a hundred men, yet only seven of his personal guard were down. The axemen were trapped, they lined up in an orderly rows, a last ditch attempt at a protective battle line. Lothar's guard rode in to engage them.
They put up more of a fight than the cavalry and the archers, felling eight horsemen in the first moments of the melee, but their weapons were slow and unwieldy. Once they stuck in a body, they were nearly impossible to remove. Thus vulnerable after their initial success, the Hungarians were butchered like the rest.
It took Lothar a few moments to realize there was no one left to fight. I have won! I have won a great victory! I have personally slaughtered an entire army. He looked around the town square. It was covered with the bodies of the Hungarian dead. They were clad like peasants and their weapons were crude.
Lothar dismounted and tried to walk, but the thick tangle of limbs made him stumble and reel. Why are they not celebrating? My men should be celebrating... I... He staggered, his arm outstretched, before collapsing to his knees. Can't breathe... He tore off his helmet and gulped air into his lungs. It took him several moments to notice the stench. He was a victorious warrior, the bodies of his slain enemies lying scattered around him like cut wheat. A few still writhed and moaned. Glory... He vomited.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Damascus, 1228:
PART I:
Night had descended over the desert just east of Damascus and already the chill of the night had descended. Leopold moved uncomfortably, the chill being amplified by his armour. Slowly he turned his head around to gaze upon the columns of soldiers beside him. Many of them carrying the white Coat of those that had taken up the cross. It filled him with pride to see these men marching alongside him, but as he looked ahead he was also filled with dread.
Aradai the Wrathful was known to be a great general and as he surveyed the Mongol Horde before him he couldn't help but appreciate his adversary. His army did not seem surprised but was instead well prepared and had taken up a defensive position near a steep hill. His infantry deployed in the front while a large screen of Cavalry could just be made out stretching across the horizon.
Henry hadn't lied when he had cautioned Leopold to attack those Mongols head on.
Lifting a hand lazily he gave the sign to advance. There was nothing for them but to advance. Leopold was on the left flank along with most of the Cavalry while Fredericus von Hamburg had taken to the right. As he looked to his right he saw Rainer and gave a brief smile: "Let's see what these Mongols are mad of, ey? I bet they bleed just the same when our steel greets them!"
And thus the German line advanced steadily under the defensive fire of the Mongol Infantry. Their arrows lighting the sky and taking a deadly toll among the Imperial troops.
Soon both lines met at the foot of the hill. Suddenly Leopold realized that this was quite a steep incline and with Mongols fighting every inch of the way it would be an ordeal to take it from them. Raising his sword high above him he ordered his escort to charge. Accompanied by two hundred Crusader Knights the earth trembled as the Heavy Knights advanced on the Mongol position.
After the initial shock the advance was quickly stalled and with arrows peppering the Knights back every inch was gained at a high cost of Christian blood that soon covered the slope making it treacherous footing that slowed the advance even more.
The right flank under Fredericus von Hamburg had a lighter incline and thus could advance quicker and soon the Mongols were surrounded. Led by Aradai the Wrathful they were not going to give in.
Many German warriors died, before the Imperial Knights had finally gained the height and were able to slaughter Aradai in close combat. Finally the resistance had been broken and without their fear of Aaradais wrath the remaining Mongols soon fled the field. All that was left, was a field of carnage.
A lot of Germans had paid a steep price for this initial victory against the Horse Lords.
Wearily Leopold rode forward to meet Fredericus von Hamburg amids the carnage: "You fought well today, but thas only been the first step. Tomorrow our true goal awaits us. The Mongol Khan and his heir! You have shown bravery and could leave now, an honourable man."
He looked at Fredericus expectingly and then nodded: "I wouldn't have thought anything else. I am glad to have you at my side tomorrow!"
As von Hamburg retreated, Rainer rode up to his master: "What do we do with the prisoners, mein Herr?"
"Kill them, we can not bother to guard them and the last thing their Khan will receive from me is a call for ransom!"
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Damascus ,1228:
Part II
I am Gerhardt von Schenk, the biographer of Duke Leopold of Austria.
This is the story of his death:
After thoroughly defeating the Mongol invasors led by Aradai the Wrathful in a bloody night battle, Leopold continued to march on their Khan Jebuk and his Heir Khanzada Batudhun who were besieging Damascus, goal of the Second Imperial Crusade, which was led by Duke Leopold of Austria!
Battle was met just East of the city, where a large cliffside dominated the battlefield. Through his superior maneuvering and tactical knowledge of the land, Duke Leopold was able to field his men on top of the cliff, while sturdy German warriors protected the right and left flanks.
The foolish Khan Jebuk knew that he was doomed should Leopold the Mighty decide to attack. Desperately he sent his warriors in to defeat the stout Christian followers of my master in a headlong assault. The Imperial line held firm against the onslaught.
On their right flank!
And on their left flank!
As Leopold the Honourable saw Khan Jebuk approaching he ordered his men to join battle with the leader of his enemies. He rushed his Cavalry forward and fought against the heathen Horse Lords!
Such was the ferocity of his attack that soon all of Jebuk the Cowards bodyguard had perished, and giving true meaning to his name, the Great Khan of the Mongol Horde decided to flee the battlefield.
Duke Leopolds men were quicker though and overtook and captured him!
His Ornate Armour could not save him from German steel!
With their Khan captured it now lay with his Heir Khanzada to defeat the Imperial Crusade. His forces at come in on the Imperial right flank and were now pushing to get through. Spurred onwards by his recent success, Leopold the Brave stormed forward to attack Khanzada Batundhun the Unsuccessful.
It was a brief fight and soon Khandaza Batundhun was surrounded and followed his Khan into Imperial emprisonment. The tide of battle had turned and Duke Leopold the Chivalrous charged his knights headlong into the next enemies and into the next after that. Spurring his men onward to defeat each and every Mongol left on the field.
It was at this moment when a stray arrow hit Duke Leopold the Healthy through his visor, taking out one of his eyes. Blinded in such way he fought on mercilessly against the Mongols surrounding him, slaying away and sending hundreds of them to the grave!
His arm tired though and the Mongols had him surrounded. Not able to see his opponents clearly Leopold the Merciless was overwhelmed and killed by those marauding dogs!
Encouraged by the death of their greatest leader the Imperial forces surged onward and killed every Mongol they could find, earning the Reich a Clear Victory over the Mongol heathens!
Fredericus von Hamburg was with my formes master to all of this and fought bravely at his side. For these services he shall forever be known as Fredericus the Brave!
Once the battle was over, the Mongol prisoners were rounded up. Fredericus who had now taken command was still contemplating what to do with his foes when Rainer, the most trusted of my masters bodyguards arrived from the field of battle, carrying with him the mutilated body of Duke Leopold.
As he saw the men before him that were responsible for his death he dismounted, took the sword of my master, he had gathered from the field and advanced on Khan Jebuk filled with righteous fury. One swift stroke was all it took to behead the leader of our foes. A second beheaded Khanzada Batudhun. Seeing this, our soldiers let their emotions run free and slaughtered those Horse Lords foolish enough to surrender to the Imperial might!
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
"Don't you dare throw your life away!"
Otto looked up from sharpening his sword, his last task before going into battle. Normally, his wife's rages bemused him, but not now. Otto had been in a black mood since learning of Leopold's death.
"The Mongols must be stopped," Otto replied, continuing to scrape the whetstone on the blade, "Leopold must be avenged."
Otto's flat, grim voice matched the sound of stone on steel.
"Why now Otto? Wait a year, let the horselord come to you. This is madness! Leopold rode willingly to his death, why should you follow him?"
In reply, the stone continued to travel along the sword edge, unceasing.
"Yes, he was a great general, but he's dead, what good is any of this for him now?"
The grate of stone on steel continued.
"Let Khan Jebe continue to Jerusalem, face him there, and gain the gratitude of the Pope. They will ally with us again. Think!!!"
Otto continued to hone the blade to a fine edge.
"Listen to me you fool! Honor will only get you killed!"
Otto stood abruptly. Casting the stone aside, he glared at Elsebeth with a naked sword in his hand. The Princess stood her ground, staring at her husband.
Otto sheathed his sword, his expression grim again, "I am not a fool, Elsebeth, I am a coward."
"Ah, so it's pride then, not honor. Would you die to prove a point to a dead man?"
Otto gently took Elsebeth by the shoulders.
"One way or the other, my dear, I'm running out of time. The Mongols must be stopped. Leopold must be avenged. Outremer must be defended. I must strike now."
Elsebeth bit her lip and looked away.
"That's not true! There's still time! Years!"
Otto leaned in and kissed his wife.
"Of course, I must go, I'll try not to die."
----
The Battle of Galilee, 1228
Otto scanned the terrain east of the Sea of Galilee. The situation was not good. The Mongols had the high ground, 14 units capable of withering missile fire from that hill and superior numbers and quality in cavalry.
Otto turned to his Lieutenants, Jan the Master Archer and Lucas the Teuton.
"Jan, since we'll be marching uphill, the crossbowmen will be deployed in front of the infantry line in a loose formation. That way, they can shoot more effectively with a flat trajectory and not risk harming our own men. I hope putting them in a skirmish line will cut down on casualties from the Mongols' arrows. You must emphasize to them that no matter what happens, they are to stand and fight if attacked."
Jan nodded, but looked a bit doubtful. Otto turned to Lucas, who would be commanding the cavalry.
"You Sir, are to gather the Knights and Turkopoles on the right flank. They're outnumbered, but maybe we can create a local superiority. I hope the crossbowmen will be enough to protect our left flank."
"By putting the crossbowmen out in front, I'm hoping to lure the enemy to us, rather than have us slog uphill to them. Still, if we have to attack, we'll focus on their lancers and infantry. Trying to chase down their horse archers while the first two are still in play would be suicidal."
Otto looked at his two commanders sternly and spoke in a fell tone, "We must kill Khan Jebe at all costs. Even if we are defeated, if he dies, the Mongol forces in the Levant will collapse."
----
The Mongols did not take the bait and Otto was forced to march his men uphill until the crossbowmen were in range.
Two units of Mongol Heavy Horse Archers took advantage of the lack of a cavalry screen on the left flank and engaged three units of the Pavise Crossbowmen in a long range duel.
The Mongols got the worst of it and Jebe decided to advance some of his footmen to balance the scales. The losses began to mount among the crossbowmen and Otto decided to advance his infantry line to compensate.
The Mongols footmen began to withdraw to their original positions. Otto, frustrated that they would not advance to meet him on his terms, rode ahead of the infantry to goad Jebe into a mistake.
Reining in his horse in front of the Mongols, Otto yelled, "Khhaaaaan! Khan Jebe! Come and fight me you coward! Are you frightened? I'm all alone. Will you not face me in a duel?!"
The Mongol lines did not move.
Otto, hoping that Elsebeth would not hear about it, decided to use a more direct method.
Otto and his retainers killed many archers, but the Mongols again did not take the bait. Losing some men, and arrow bit himself, Otto ordered the infantry to advance while the Mongol foot archers were still retreating.
The Infantry line pulled up in front of the Mongols. Yet still they would not charge.
Otto, again behind the lines, and bleeding and angry, yelled to Jan, "Have the crossbowmen target the Lancers! Maybe that will get their attention!"
Bolts began to take a heavy toll among the Mongol heavy calvary. Still they held their ground waiting for their own archers to form up again. The Turkopoles on the right flank, having exhausted their arrows, took advantage of the lull to finish a unit of isolated horse archers.
Still, even after most of the crossbowmen had run out of bolts, the Mongols did not advance.
"Cowards!", Otto screamed, "They think to mop us up after we've loosed all our missiles. Nein, we'll go right for them!"
Pointing his sword at the banner of the Khan, Otto bellowed, "A thousand florins to the men who kill Jebe! Charge!"
Even the crossbowmen who had run out of bolts were ordered into the melee, motivated by Otto and greed.
The Mongols, surprised by the charge, were thrown back. The Lancers could not use their fearsome charge. The footmen were unable to decide whether to use their bows or swords. Confusion reigned as the Army of Outremer swarmed over them.
Many men would claim the thousand florins.
Still, the Mongols recovered and the horsemen from their right flank charged into the melee, though too late to save their Khan. They fought with tenacity despite the loss. The ground became soaked in blood.
The battle devolved into a swirling maelstrom as units crisscrossed the battlefield hunting each other. The Imperials had the upper hand now, but the remaining Mongol units would quickly rally if put to flight, adding to the confusion. Even now, Otto's men took heavy casualties.
Eventually the few remaining Mongols retreated, but they never routed.
----
After the battle was over, Otto, bleeding from several wounds, returned to the peak of the hill. Looking at the tangled mass of men and horses where the lines had met, he mourned his losses. Victory was his, but almost two thirds of his men would not live to see it.
Hunting among the piles of corpses, Otto found his prey. Removing the helm sculpted to look like a demon's fierce visage, the King of Outremer looked upon the dead features of the last Khan of the Mongols. In contrast to the helm, Jube seemed to have a look of shock and surprise on his face.
"You should have charged when you had the chance, Mauler," Otto spat as he drew his well sharpened sword.
The Khan's neck proved as obstinate as his army, as it took Otto four chops from his blade to sever Jube's head.
"Rest in peace, Leopold," prayed Otto as he placed the head in a canvas bag. He limped back to his horse with blood running down his armor, the Council must be informed of the destruction of the Mongols and, a shudder ran through Otto, his wife placated.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Damscus, 1230
There is no doubt that Damascus is a holy city. Even the road to it is special. It seems that the only path leading to it is the narrow path, whether you're traveling a short distance from Jerusalem to persecute Christians, or sailing all the way from Germany to seek personal glory.
Some who did not know him well might be surprised, but Fredericus von Hamburg was not a pious man. He was largely motivated by the potential for personal gain. Sure, he joined the outcry against Heinrich when Rome was sacked, but that was largely because the will of the Diet had been circumvented, and Franconia put in danger as a result. Yes, he did join in calling for the first crusade, but it would mean that many of the rival generals would be sent half the world away. It only left him and von Kastilien, but when von Kastilien was named Duke, and with western Franconia still generally quiet, he gladly joined the second crusade, for there were new lands, enemies, and titles in the Outremer.
But that was before the journey on the Road was taken. I cannot say exactly what it is. Maybe it's seeing the masses of people abandon everything they have, except a cross and a sword, and march happily into danger. Maybe it's being stuck for a long time on the same boat as Conrad Salier, who would only talk of religious matters, and would only leave you alone if you were reading the Bible. Maybe Jesus spoke to him on the way. Whatever it was, one thing was clear, von Hamburg was a different man. When he joined Leopold in calling for a direct attack on the Mongols, he justified it by saying that it was the only way to protect the Christians in the city. The difference was, this time he meant it.
But it was not over yet. There was one more curve in the Road.
This was it, the final battle. Sir Fredericus the Brave vs. Sir Medhat the Not-Quite-So-Brave-As-Sir-Fredericus. Conrad Salier, Karl Zirn, Jan von Hamburg, and Elberhard were also there, as were 1500 other Germans, two spies who sabotaged the gates, and a friendly and largely Christian population. Less than 1000 Saracens stood in the way, largely militia and horse archers, with a few catapults.
There was a question of who would be the first to enter the city. It would certainly be the position of honor, but it was highly risky. He who advanced first would come under prolonged missile fire, and would have to face the enemy frontally immediately upon entering the city. Though the crusade had come far and been through much, it was still possible to die here just as anywhere else. Fredericus was determined to ignore the ceremonial significance of the battle, and treat it with proper tactics. He did not want to waste any lives that were not expendable. Well, that's not to say that some are expendable, it's just that, well, some lives like being expended. As such, the religious fanatics got the honor of storming the gate.
They quickly secured the immediate area of the gate, attacking nearby Saracen units, and scaling the walls to kill the archers and javelinmen. The other troops followed at a normal pace. A large number of Saracens came down the main street, directly from the city square. The fanatics blocking that route were soon no longer able to hold, and the regular troops moved in, with about half of the enemy army attempting to come down that street.
While there were some skirmishes on the side, and some units went around, most of the early fighting occurred on that street. At first a regiment of crusader sergeants held the line, and when they became exhausted, they were replaced by militia armed with halberds. Unlike the sergeants, they went on the offensive, and being attacked by lightly armored horses and men, did very well with their fearsome weapons.
Both regiments took their turn, and were eventually replaced by armored sergeants, as other units made it along the side streets to envelop what remained of the enemy. About half of the enemy army remained, and they concentrated at the city center. The enemy general was still there, a small number of horse archers, much of the remaining militia, and three batteries of catapults. The presence of catapults was particularly worrisome.
Because of the danger posed by the catapults, all the remaining units were ordered to charge up the street and immediately engage the enemy.
The enemy infantry was partially encircled, and since they had nowhere to retreat, all that remained to do was to wait for them to be cut down. Strangely enough, the enemy general, along with his numerous and heavily armored bodyguard, merely looked on.
After dispatching the rest of the enemy army, the German troops surrounded the enemy general.
One of the halberdier regiments carefully closed in on the general's bodyguard, in formation, with their halberds in a defensive position. They came close enough to initiate communication.
Soon, one of the halberdiers reported back to Fredericus. Apparently, the enemy general offered to surrender the city. This was the response:
"Now!? Now he wants to surrender? After he watched every last one of his men get killed. Right there, right in front of him. Every last one. Even the last one died while trying to stab with his spear. And now he wants to surrender? Does he also wish to return to Egypt on a comfortable carriage, with all the wine he can drink, served by 50 beautiful women? Does he also..."
By this point, the halberdier had already returned to his formation, and they attacked, being quickly followed by the surrounding infantry.
Some of the general's bodyguard attempted to escape the infantry, but the entire German army collapsed to the city center.
The city was spared any looting and destruction. The Road has come to an end.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Battle West of Paris 1232
After Paris has been stabilized somewhat and the Swabian House Army has been reinforced, Duke Scherer began planning forays into French territory. He planned to strike at Caen quickly cutting Bruges off to be taken later and granting a closer are for reoutfitting his army.
His hopes were dashed however when an assassin happened to have found a large French force massing only a week away from Paris preparing to take back their capital. Not wanting to be under siege for a month or two, the Duke decided to take out his army and fight the French on the ground of his choosing. The Swabian House Army has still not recovered fully from their early conquests of Rheims and Paris, but the Duke thought that the battle would be won easily.
As he began to prepare for battle, scouts reported that the French force was larger than previously though, with a full 400 men more than the Duke’s army. To make matters worse, French reinforcements were hiding nearby and consisted of another 650 men. The French outnumbered the Duke two to one. He however could not retreat back to Paris as the French would easily have cut him off and then assaulted from two sides so he decided to fight a defensive battle and hope for the best.
As the main French army began to move towards the Duke, he had a pleasant surprise. Some French reinforcements got lost on their way to the battle and were seen right behind the Swabian army isolated and unable to be helped by others. The Duke quickly ordered most of his men to charge at the French reinforcements and they were quickly annihilated.
The French main army seeing their reinforcements getting butchered, started to march at a faster pace towards the Duke, but he was on the top of a big hill and the Swabian army was already back in position by the time French skirmishers reached the line.
The Duke’s plan was simple. He and his cavalry regiments would hide on a small hill near the right flank of his infantry line. His crossbowmen would cut down the French as they marched upwards. They would be pulled back towards the left flank as the infantry lines engaged and then his cavalry would sweep down and hopefully take the French by surprise.
The plan did not go through smoothly to say the least. The French charged at the Swabian crossbowman earlier than expected and they had to be withdrawn without doing significant damage. Once the infantry lines were engaged, the Duke and his cavalry were seen by the opposing French general and they engaged in a bloody fight. Off towards the left flank, French cavalry engaged his crossbowmen and they were unable to help the left flank of the infantry line, which was held only by halberd militia. The militia was quickly overrun and it seemed as if the whole infantry line would collapse upon itself.
Fortunately, the French general had to retreat once most of his cavalry was gone and the Duke was able to help the right flank. His crossbowmen also defeated the French cavalry that charged at them and barely stopped the left flank from collapsing. French reinforcements however came and charged into the fray buckling the Swabian flank. It seemed that the Duke’s whole infantry line would start to rout if it weren’t for a great stroke of luck.
The French general too busy with saving his own skin than helping his troops was running away when he ran right into some of the Duke’s mounted crossbowmen. He was killed and the French morale was destroyed. Slowly, but surely, the French infantry began to flee and the Swabian morale was restored. It wasn’t long before the whole French army was in full retreat.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Wet. Everything was wet. Lothar's full plate armor, a coming of age gift from his father, kept blades and spears away from his body, but the rain seeped in through every joint. While the men who had crafted the suit were master of their art, Bavarian blacksmiths were not known for their prowess at ventilation. It was cold outside, but his own body heat made the armor stifling. Between the sweat and the rain, every inch of his skin and underclothing was soaked. Many of mounted knights were suffering similar difficulties. Lothar looked at his escort. They had ridden constantly for the last two hours and man and horse alike were tired. Simultaneously, seven dozen men began to adjust various bits of flesh and cloth while mounted on horseback. The task was not made easier by the mail and plate which encased their bodies and the stiff gauntlets they wore. The young Bavarian snickered and shook his head. He turned back to the battlefield and raised his visor.
The armies were out there somewhere. The Hungarian besieging force and the Budapest militia. The Bavarians, Steffen family retainers and Templar alike, had ridden as hard as they could but they had not arrived in time to join with the city garrison. A runner, sent to find help, had told them that Captain Philipp, the local commander, was mounting a sally in force this very morning to wreck the Hungarian siege works. Lothar had thought about riding around the Hungarian army, but the enemy force was large, the ground was unknown to any of his men, and thick fog covered the landscape. They were as likely to run stumble into the enemy's camp as they were to find the militia. So, they moved slowly, up and down the rolling landscape, until at last pennants began to appear through the fog.
"Looks like we'll see some fun today, sir."
Lothar nodded. Gregory was an aged veteran of many battles. His mother had named him after the reigning Pope when he was born, a fact that must have made life in Bavaria difficult for the man as a youth. Gregory had not been a popular name for several decades at least. The childhood mocking had ended when he killed an older boy with his bare hands. At the age of 15, Gregory had become a Steffen man-at-arms to escape the noose. Lothar liked him a great deal.
"Yes, Gregory, but this is not our battle. Zagreb was one thing, but this is another. There is a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and this..." he gestured towards the Hungarian host.
"Well... let's just say that my father and the Chancellor can only scold me when I am alive."
Gregory snorted and started to reply, but a faint whistling sound distracted him. Suddenly the air was full of missiles. They were fired at extreme range and had lost most of their penetrating power, but luck or the devil guided one bolt through the visor of a Templar. The man was dead before he even hit the ground, blood washing from his eyeslit.
They had been spotted. A large group of crossbowmen had broken from the main Hungarian line and were shooting at them. Lothar looked at Gregory and mount. "Well, perhaps a little fun would be alright." He lowered his visor and raised his sword. Simultaneously, eighty horses began a canter that would eventually bring them into a full charge. Lothar spurred his mount forward and the Steffen retainers followed, leaving their 'Holy' brethren behind. This was likely the only combat they would see for the day, and he was not about to let the Templars enjoy it alone. The Hungarian crossbowmen were still loading their next quarrel when the charge broke on them.
In a shower of bodies, blood, and broken lances, the regiment evaporated. The handful who escaped uninjured broke and ran for their lines. Lothar raised his visor. His men were jeering and making rude gestures at the retreating enemy.
"You know Gregory, it appears to me that there are a large number of archers and crossbowmen in that army. Indeed, they appear to be closer to us than to the militia. Perhaps we should make a maneauver to protect ourselves? Surely my father would not be upset if we engaged in an active defense."
The veteran warrior grinned. "It would be most prudent, sir."
The Hungarian archers were focused on the approaching militia; they were oblivious to the threat behind them. The first that any of them knew of the German cavalry was when the rearmost rank suddenly sprouted long shafts of wood and iron from their chests.
The results were predictable. To Lothar's right, the Templars were inflicting similar misery on a large group of unwarry crowssbowmen.
The attack did not go unnoticed by the Hungarian commander, though. Hundreds of spearmen, their weapons deadly to the unarmored German mounts, turned to chase them away. As one, Lothar's men and the Templars pulled back to the top of a hill. The spearmen returned to the main army, but stayed in the rear, guarding against any further sallies from the small band of cavalry. In turn, the knights drew up in a long line to watch the armies clash.
The crunch of the initial impact was surprisingly loud even at this distance. For the men in the front ranks, it must have been a deafening roar. Thousands of men were pitted in a struggle to the death. For some time, it was impossible to tell if either side was gaining an upper hand. The lines blurred into an anarchy of death. Lothar trotted his men forward a ways, looking for an opening from which to take the enemy in the rear, but the Hungarians had ringed themselves with still more archers, crossbowmen, and spearmen. There was no way to reach the main force without breaking through that line first, and yet the two lines were so close that a charge risked carrying them right into the midst of hundreds of dismounted Hungarian knights.
I will not sit here and do nothing! If the Chancellor will not give me an army to command, at least I can do my share of the sword work.
He raised his sword again and the knights straighted into a line, thigh to thigh, in the proper style. They were well trained and disciplined. Templars were renowned as the fiersest of holy warriers and the Steffen retainers were amongst the most vigorously trained in the entire Reich. They were still several hundred meters away from the rear line when horns began to echo from across the battlefield. To Lothar's eyes, it appeared that the German lines suddenly doubled in depth. It took him a moment to realize that they were breaking and running.
The shock of what was happening coursed through him. The right flank was routing after only the briefest of melees; the militia unwilling or unable to hold back the Hungarian foot knights, despite their numbers.
Those fools! They will break the entire army! The Hungarian foot will sweep into the main body from the flank and the entire garrison will be destroyed! And I'll be stuck out here with 80 knights to face a thousand stinking Magyars! Oh, Hells...
Lothar kicked his horse into a full gallop and held his breath. Maybe, just maybe, the sight of his small band of cavalry would rally the fleeing militia. The Templars hit the rearguard spearmen first, the impact throwing several men high into the air.
The charge was devastating, but the line remained standing. It wavered, but remained unbroken for the few heartbeats before Lothar's men plowed into them from the rear.
The survivors would surely have routed at that point, if there had been any. Yet, this display of support for the army did not seem to help at all. Across the field, every regiment of the militia was in full flight.
Two-thirds of the garrison were still on their feet, yet they were broken and beaten. Over seven hundred victorious Hungarians still stood upon the field, many of them heavily armored foot knights. The Magyars would follow the fleeing men right through the city gates. The only men that stood between the German city and the attacking army were eighty mounted Bavarian knights. Gregory pulled up next to him.
"Scheiße. So much for fun."
Lothar did not reply. There was nothing to say, no choice to be made. If they did not win, tens of thousands of Austrians would be subject to rape, sack, and sword. As the last of the militia left the field of battle, the entire Hungarian force turned on the two small groups of mounted knights. Silently, Lothar raised his sword and charged.
He stopped keeping track after the fifth charge. Charge, withdraw. Charge, withdraw. Each time they inflicted immense damage on the enemy, but each time their numbers were thinned. No matter how quickly he signalled the retreat, some men were invariably overtaken by the rush of Hungarians. Yet, as the Germans numbers dwindled, the Hungarian lines began to fracture. Units became isolated from one another. With their flanks vulnerable, Lothar began coordinating charges with the Templars, hitting units from two sides at once.
For hours it seemed to go on. Lothar was nearing exhaustion and his mount could barely muster the strength for the uphill retreat.
It will be over soon. My horse is too slow and I will be pulled down from my saddle and butchered. Too few to fight, too tired to run. At least I am capable of dying properly.
He lowered raised his sword for one final charge into the advancing Hungarian foot knights.
At the moment of impact, he closed his eyes. Death greeted him with a roar. Hundreds of voices crying out in dismay; the angels themselves shouting in despair. It was a glorious sound, a fitting end for a Bavarian. Yet, there was no pain. Lothar opened his eyes and saw the Templars hit the Hungarians from the flank.
Retreating Magyars blocked the way of advancing troops. They tripped and fell over each other, a huge mass of men caught in a tangled weave on the hillside. Into this mass broke the German lances. The sheer brutality of the result sent shockwaves through the Hungarian army. Hit time and time again by heavy cavalry charges, they had become depleted and exhausted. The massive enemy army looked nearly undiminished to Lothar, but over five hundred men had been killed right out by this handful of German knights. Knights who gave no sign of stopping, no sign of breaking. In the end, it was more than the Hungarians could take.
All across the field, the scattered survivors of the mounted nightmare took to their heels. With only sixty knights remaining, there were not enough men to guard prisoners. Lothar was too tired to think of the consquences. His sword rose and fell, scattering blood on the muddy, trampled grass of the battlefield. His men followed suit. Thoughts of the town square of Zagreb filled his head.
Butchery looks the same, be it in a city or a field.
A short time ago, a similar slaughter had brought him to his knees. This time the only thing on his lips was a smile.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Edessa, 1236, Part I
“I am supposed to attack a city garrison of 1300 men with three regiments of foot?” Henry fumed.
Kurt looked down, avoiding the eyes of his furious Kaiser.
“Where the @#$% is Elberhard?!” Henry roared.
So that’s where he gets it from, Kurt thought, remembering the foul tongue of the young Prince.
“Elberhard is some way back, your majesty, with the baggage train.”
“What men does he have?”
“Four regiments of foot, Sire.” Kurt said, embarrassedly, closing his ears to a new barrage of expletives from the Kaiser.
“Can we bring some of them up to help us?”
“No, Sire – they have spotted a force of Egyptians in the field. They cannot safely move.”
Henry shook his head.
“OK, so how do we do this?”
“Athalwulf has infiltrated some men into Edessa. They should be able to open the gates for us.”
Henry rubbed his forehead: “Making a run for it, trying to bludgeon our way even through open gates does not sound like a sensible tactic. The garrison has many Saracen spearmen and archers – they would pin us by the gates and shoot us down as we stood.”
Kurt volunteered: “Athalwulf suggests we wait for dusk. As we lack siege engines, the garrison will be at their ease. Most of the guards will be in their barracks, eating and saying prayers.”
“Very well – we will try that. Tell every man to hold position. If the enemy lowers its guard, we will strike. We do not have enough infantry to attack in strength at more than one point. The main army will stay with me outside the front gate. Send two regiments of horse to cover the east and west gates. Horst can lead the western force. They are to move in if our spies signal the way is unopposed.”
Kurt nodded. He had no idea if the Egyptians really would abandon the walls as Athalwulf promised, but they had little to lose by holding in place. Fighting their way under fire from the battlements would be murder, whether attempted quickly or at leisure.
*****
Horst waited patiently for a signal from Athalwulf. He had been given a regiment of his brother Teutons to command, along with one of mounted sergeants. His orders were to get inside the city when the signal came and to raise hell with the infidels. His scarred hands tightened on the reigns – this was what he lived for.
There was a minor commotion in the ranks and an old man appeared, dressed in civilian clothes. An Arab scout was leading the aged Egyptian.
“Captain, he says he has a message from Athalwulf." translated the scout. "He says the time is now. And that the garrison are sending some catapults to bombard us.”
Horst smiled – this was better than he had expected. “You hear that, boys? The Egyptians are sending their artillery to greet us! It would be rude to keep them waiting!”
With that, the Teutons and mounted sergeants began racing for the eastern gates.
Once inside the city walls, Horst’s men quickly found two batteries of catapults making their way east. The Teutons hacked into one; the mounted sergeants attacked the other. The battle was too easy, but suddenly Horst looked up and was surprised to see a regiment of Mamluk archers riding to the assistance of the artillerymen.
Horst had ridden with Henry long enough to have developed a healthy respect for the Mamluks – the elite soldiers of the Egyptian army. This is going to be a stiff fight, thought Horst grimly. But then, as suddenly as the Mamluks had appeared, they were gone. Horst looked around puzzled, but then heard a faraway cry of battle. Henry was through the frontal gates and the Mamluks were responding to that, more serious threat.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Edessa, 1236, Part II
Once word had reached Henry of Horst’s entry into the city, he had spurred on his main force towards the central gates. As Athalwulf had promised, agents opened the gates for the Germans and the Imperial army was able to spill into the walled city. Word of the disaster soon reached the Egyptians mustering in the centre of the Edessa, however, and enemy regiments of foot began racing towards the central gate.
Even in the dusk light, Kurt’s sharp eyes could make out the nature of the enemy:
“Three regiments of archers, Sire!”
Henry could not believe his luck and spurred on his bodyguard.
The fighting was brutal – the city streets were too narrow and the enemy too thick on the ground to allow Henry’s men to charge. Instead, there was a bitter struggle, as the veteran knights hacked into the enemy around them. In the crush, knights found themselves dragged from their horses. Gradually, the opposition stiffen as the Mamluk archers, Arab cavalry and Saracen militia began to reinforce the Egyptian archers unlucky enough to have formed the vanguard of the garrison.
Two fifths of Henry’s escort had been cut down when he heard a loud hurrah from behind the Egyptians massing against him. Horst had led his Teutons in an attack on the rear of the enemy blocking the entrance to the city centre.
Kurt looked on appalled, as he saw fresh regiments of Saracen militia moving up behind the Teutons from the city centre.
“Poor brave bastard.” Said the veteran warrior under his breath. But soon his attention had to be turned to the struggle immediately around him.The enemy archers and most of their cavalry were gradually slain. But that left the Imperial knights were now left fighting a tightly packed mass of Saracen spearmen.
Horst hacked at the enemies around him in fury, but it was no good. His brothers were all dead and he had mere seconds left to live. For the second time in his life, Horst felt certain he would not see another sunrise. The blow, when it came, was more agonising that any torment Kusan Dolar had inflicted on the Teuton. A Saracen spear cut depth into his lower side; hands grabbed at him and he was dragged to the ground. More spear points were thrust through his plate mail, feet kicked at him and a crowd engulfed his fallen body.
“He is mine! He is mine! Off him, get off! Can’t you see he is a noble? The Captain wants him for ransom! Do you defy your captain?”
A fierce Saracen sergeant had thrust his way into the kicking and stabbing crowd, protecting the wounded Teuton from a killing blow.
Horst looked up at his unlikely saviour as an enormous Mamluk Captain rode up:
“You fought bravely, Teuton,” said the Mamluk. Horst would later learn that this was Captain Fathy, commander of the Edessa garrison. “As does your Kaiser.” continued the Captain – pointing in the distance to the last of the Imperial knights battling the Saracen militia.
“You must forgive me, Teuton, but I have things to attend to. Sergeant: see put him in one of these houses by the street. Tell the occupants they will answer to me for his treatment.” With that the Captain rode off alone down a side street. Horst would later learn that Captain Fathy would single handedly duel the Horst’s entire regiment of mounted sergeants, slaying most of their number during the battle.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Edessa, 1236, Part III
The battle settled into a war of attrition. When only three of Henry’s escort remained, Kurt prevailed on the Kaiser to withdraw and let the crusader sergeants take his place in the struggle for the central road to the city. Two regiments of Saracen militia made their way around the flanks of the Imperial main force. One was caught between the single regiment of dismounted feudal knights and Horst’s mounted sergeants, and destroyed. The other appeared as if from nowhere on the battlements on the west of the city. At first, Henry ordered the pavise crossbowmen manning the captured battlements to retreat but then he noticed they were holding their own against the Egyptians. Consequently, they were ordered to hold their ground while the dismounted knights puffed their way from the east and mounted the battlements behind the Saracens, surrounding and destroying them.
The battle was now swinging in favour of the Imperials. The five regiments of crossbowmen and archers were able to fire over the heads of the crusader sergeants into the Egyptians massing along the main city route. Although Horst’s cavalry group was almost eliminated, the western cavalry group was able to enter the city unopposed, butchering the remaining Egyptian artillery. Slowly, the Saracens blocking the entrance to the city centre were worn down, with the arrival of the German dismounted knights driving back the survivors.
Kurt and Henry approach the final stage of the battle patiently, like hunters stalking a dangerous wounded prey. The modest number of Imperial foot was aligned in front of the enemy as a shield, while the crossbowmen and Armenian archers fired volleys over their heads into the remaining Saracen defenders. A larcenous German sergeant found Horst lying bleeding in a house off the main street and he was brought before Henry. Henry heard admiring of the chivalry of Captain Fathy. But the discussion was interrupted by a young rider from Horst’s mounted sergeants, who told in horror of how his regiment was being dismembered by an indestructible giant Mamluk.
Henry’s eyes lit up – his escort was all but eliminated and could play no sensible role in battling the hundreds of Saracen spearmen still stoutly defending the city centre. But he personally could ride to the aide of his sergeants.
The slow moving barded Imperial horses were no match for the agility of Fathy’s Arabian mount and the Egyptian Captain effortlessly evaded Henry and his few surviving bodyguards. The brave Captain charged back into the mounted sergeants, like a fox running amok in a chicken coop. Finally, Henry and his men caught up with the enemy general. With a well judged blow, Kurt slew the fearsome Egyptian, who fell among the many German sergeants lying dead around him.
The noose around the neck of the brave Egyptian defenders was tightening ever further. The Teutonic and Feudal knights of the western cavalry group launched repeated charges on the rear and flanks of the Saracen militia holding the city centre. Henry himself charged bravely into the mass of enemy spears, as if heedless of the danger. The Egyptians fought on bravely, never routing or surrendering, but dying to a man.
*****
Henry had lost a full third of his force, including Horst’s entire regiment of Teutons. The crusader and armoured sergeants were so depleted in number, they ceased to be effective combat units.
Henry ordered Kurt to estimate the enemy casualties – trying to ascertain how many were slain by archery, by cavalry or by the Imperial foot. As Henry expected, it was his three regiments of foot that had been most effective – accounting for 425 of the enemy losses. More than half of these were claimed by the single regiment of dismounted knights. The five regiments of cavalry – including Henry’s own, now eliminated, escort – had accounted for only 247 of the enemy casualties; while the five regiments of crossbowmen and archers claimed 175.
“Maybe I should propose a constitutional amendment that all siege forces include adequate numbers of foot.” Henry grumbled.
Faced with the choice of what to do with the large city, Henry ordered it merely occupied. In recognition of Edessa’s brave fallen captain, the Imperial army was given stern instructions not to loot or massacre innocents.
After the battle, Athelwulf sought out Henry and presented him with a sacred relic discovered in the city – an icon not made by hands, sent from Jesus to heal the King of Edessa.
Mindful of the plague now raging in the Antioch, Henry gave thanks for this divine gift and then passed it to his son Elberhard for safekeeping. Together, father and son drove off the final two Egyptian armies from the province. The kingdom of Outremer was now complete.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Near Thorn, 1238
It would have been a nice winterday in the fields in East Prussia, would it not have been that two armies had chosen this ground as their field of battle. A vast Russian army had crossed the borders of the province of Prussia-Thorn, belonging to the Holy Roman Empire, and chancellor Hans had ordered a small Franconian army to march against it. And even though the Franconians would be outnumbered 2 to 3 they decided that this was the best that they could do.
When scouts spotted the Russian army however they quickly saw that it lacked strenght and was mainly made up of levy's, apart from its regiment of Druzhina, but even these did not match up against the Teutonic and Mailed Knights in the Franconian army. The battlefield however was not in favour of the Franconians, it was a small forest, ideal for command with light skirmishers, and just the thing that the heavy knights did not like.
Thus Ansehelm von Kastillien, count of Thorn decided do deploy his little but strong force on a small hill just of the road and away from the dangerous forest, which might be full of ambushes.
Well aware of the dangers lurking in the forest, and knowing the incapablity of his knights to fight in forests he moved his army to the right of the battle field in order to avoid the forest and move onto the enemy from one flank, forcing him make a turn while under arrow fire.
Not soon after Ansehelm moved his army into position he ordered his missile units to open fire on the enemy ranks.
The enemy however disregarded the punishment it was getting and decided to stay where he was. Inspired by his early success Ansehelm decided to send in his regiment of Mounted Sergeants to destroy the now almost destroyed unit of Boyar Sons.
This bold move however was the signal for the enemy general to attack and he quickly moved in his forces. Now however the Franconians quickly took the advantage. The Spear Militia regiments were no match for the battle-hardened Franconian footknights and walked into a massacre. Ansehelm quickly ordered his father Günther to take the Teutons and the Mailed Knights and to swing around the enemies left flank, in order to attack from behind. At the sight of this show of force the enemy infantry regiments quickly started to rout, while the remaining men, who where still willing to fight fled into the woods.
The battle was already lost for the Russian though, the Druzhina's had sacrificied themselves in a hope to save the battle but this did not help. Ansehelm himself, together with the Mailed Knights, led the charge into the forest and quickly the Crossbow Militia regiments started to rout. After Günther enprisoned almost an entire regiment of Crossbowmen he too turned and charged into the forest hoping there would be something left for him.
He was too late however, as the Russians had already decided to flee from the field and the Teuton and Mailed Knights made short work of the men who tried to flee and enprisoned them.
Ansehelm won himself his third battle, an easy victory, given the fact that his men were far better than the ill-fated Russians.
Ansehelm however was left with loads of prisoners, and because he did not want these men to return to Russia, which seemed a wealthy country he orded the prisoners to be executed, to teach these Russians a lesson: Do not even try to enter the Holy Roman Empire
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Northwest of Paris, 1240
The French had just recently pulled away from their siege of Paris in which Duke Scherer was at in order to prepare for the incoming English threat.
The Duke was not in a good mood having been cooped up in an overcrowded city lacking the technology he was used to back home deep in the Reich.
As an act of retribution, the Duke decided to take some of his forces and attack the nearest French army. When he heard news from his scouts, his reaction was mixed. The army in front of him was battle heartened with every man trained under real military conditions with no militia members.
The Duke however had a ragtag army of subpar troops with most of his House Army still away for retraining. The only elite troops the Duke had were his trusty Imperial Knights and his Pavise crossbowmen.
As the battle started, he ordered his bodygaurds and his cavalry to hide in some nearby trees. The French only seeing a weak infantry line before them thought it was going to be an easy victory and began to charge. The Duke's elite crossbowmen though made the French pay and took out many French soldiers in their first two volley before falling back behind the infantry line.
The French still weren't deterred and everything seem to be going well for them for the Duke's infantry line was slowly but surely breaking. Suddenly, the Duke and his whole cavalry force charged from behind instantly crushing scores of soldiers. The others confused from the charge suddenly believed a huge force was upon them and fled.
OOC: I forgot to take a battle screen, but I had a heroic victory with 217 casualties on my side and I killed 200 soldiers while capturing 305.
Being merciful, the Duke offered the nearby French castle of Caen their troops in exchange for a hefty ransom and to his surprise, the French accepted and he let the captured go.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
1240; Austrian Hungarian Border
Arnold paced the rug in his command tent. Sunset outside meant that in a few hours the attack would begin.
This was his first real action as army commander and the horrors of Durazzo flashed through his mind briefly. Arnold wondered if every battle would be as gore filled as his first under the walls of the southern city now occupied by the Papal States.
At least there were no Roman Nobles to get killed he thought…that was a positive.
Being cooped up in this self made fort was certainly not the plan when they made it all those months ago. At the time is seemed a prudent plan but the Hungarians had rapidly deployed two smaller armies to block and surround him.
Of course the Hungarian’s had thought they had the upper hand by hiding a second force to the north, but, Arnold realised that neither Hungarian Captain knew he would be able to attack at night.
He remembered how his father showed him the art of teaching his Regimental Captains how to fight effectively at night. Hours upon hours of planning and repetition had gone into this attack. At the time of building the fort he had made sure all the captains had walked the terrain until they had memorised every tree and hill.
The past day he had spent drilling them until each Captain could physical move his unit by memory on the simulated battle map he has made in the forts centre.
Now it was simply a matter of waiting until darkness fell and then sallying out to crush the Hungarian pigs.
His thoughts drifted to Sigismund. He was meant to be here and he was meant to be knighted at this battle. Alas that was not to happen. What was even more disturbing was Sigismund’s actions now cast in the light of a letter he had received from his mother. It had explained in great detail the relationship between his father and the oldest surviving member of the von Mahren son’s. He had a brother, but that brother was older and could lay claim to the Austrian lands. There had been plenty of previous examples of that happening throughout the Reich over the centuries.
To hell with it!! Stop thinking and start taking action.
He quickly had his squires finished off covering him in armour. The new suit was from Italy and it was one of his best. It was so finely crafted he could move with ease and even jump off his horse without causing any lose of balance. He always felt the rush of adrenaline when he was ready…covered from head to foot in metal, his father’s long sword hanging from his side, his shield arm weighed down with the Austrian Coat of Arms proudly displayed. This was war and this was what he was destined to do!!
Stepping out into the cool night air Arnold nodded to his assembled Captains;
“Ok you bastards!! I’ve had it with being stuck in this fort with you scum!! YOU ALL STINK AND IT’S TIME TO RECTIFY THAT!!
As a group the captains could be seen grinning in the fading light, their teeth shining white in the gloom.
THERE’S NOTHING TO SMILE ABOUT YOU HEATHEN PIGS!!
Pacing now, Arnold's energy could be felt by all. The Guards either side of his tent gripped their weapons tighter, the hairs on the back each mans head stood in anticipation.
This is the first battle those stinking Hungarians are having with me, so there's a few things I need from you all this evening!!
Pausing in his pacing Arnold stares at his Captains...the torch light glinting of an increasingly malevolent glint in his eyes.
I WANT…every living thing out there killed this evening!!
I WANT them to fear me just as much as my father!!
I WANT these filthy stinking, whoreson’s sent to hell!!
I WANT this night to be the beginning of total Hungarian fear towards me!!!
Get the men ready!!! We leave in thirty minutes!!
Oh and one other thing boys!!! Let a few men escape and return word to the Hungarian Nobility that Duke Arnold has now come of age and will be hunting them until he dies!!
The situation:
Sallying Forth:
The crossbow hail storm:
Arnold with a rush of blood:
The charge:
The Hungarians breaking:
The Rechnungen:
The Dread:
*****
Looking back the plan was brutal in its simplicity, as all good night actions should be.
Storm out, let the crossbowman murder them in droves, then charge!!
All in all it was a pretty successful evening thought Arnold.
Now where was that maniac Sigismund. If he didn’t get his ass back here soon he’d miss out on the next battle with the Northern Hungarian force.
Looking around the battle field Arnold was suddenly extremely thirsty
You there, stop hacking that mans arm off and get me a drink!!
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
1242, Battle northwest of Paris
After a quick removal of a French expeditionary force that was too close for the Duke's liking he began to move towards Paris at once hearing news of a large French force sighted near the city.
On his way though, the Duke was suddenly ambushed by a French force waiting for him to pass by. The French forces however did not plan out their ambush very well and the Duke was not taken that much by surprise.
Again the Duke finds himself with little elite troops to fight with having mostly halberd militia recently recruited from Paris, but the French force did not have much elite troops either with even peasants stationed in their infantry line.
Once the battle begun, the Duke quickly charged into a small crossbow force that was brave enough to fire at him and the force had to quickly retreat. The French infantry line soon followed however, but the Duke was quick and retreated off to the flanks.
The French infantry thinking that the Duke had run off to save his own hide charged into Swabian militia with great eager. The battle seemed to be all but won when suddenly the duke came out of nowhere with his elite bodyguards and quickly dispatched the commanders of the French force spreading panic throughout the French infantry.
The French quickly began to rout, but it was too late for most were captured by Swabian forces and quickly executed to show what happens when the Duke gets annoyed.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Battle West of Paris, 1246
Duke Scherer has been very annoyed recently, he and his army was stuck right outside of Paris due to some unforeseen circumstances making him go through yet another cold French winter. The reinforcements that should have arrived in Paris to help the never ending French assaults have yet to come without any news of whether they will ever come.
Only did urgent news that the French have besieged Paris, currently with a minimal garrison of some crossbowmen did the Duke manage to get his men to march in the snow. Upon arriving within site of Paris, the Duke was gravely concerned. There was one huge and well trained French army divided in 2 surrounding the Western and Southern gates of the city.
The French brought the very best of their army, with no militia or under trained troops nearby. The Duke was going to fight against soldiers that have fought in many campaigns before.
After much argument with his advisors, the Duke came to the realization that he cannot take on the whole army by himself or with the garrison from Paris, so he had to sneak attack the larger of the two parts.
That night, the Duke had a clever plan. His cavalry and him will be deployed off to the side hidden from the French. The few pavise and mounted crossbowmen he had would be used to draw the French into an open and unorganized charge at his infantry line.
Before the French could reach the infantry line, the Duke and his cavalry would break ranks and charge. The French forces would be between a rock and a hard place. No matter whichever force they will choose to engage, more of the Duke’s forces will be ready t charge them from behind. Their hesitation proved fatal as they received the charge of the Duke’s cavalry and infantry together and the French forces, sleepy and hungry routed almost instantly only to be chased down and executed as a symbol of the Duke’s displeasure.
(OOC: I forgot to print screen post battle statistics yet again so here are the stats: I lost 93 men, but killed 280 and captured 503)
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Place holder for the fifth battle for Imperial Thorn
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
West to Hamburg, 1248 AD
Battle Fought by Kaiser Chancellor Jobst
Knight Siegfred is present on the Battlefield.
Extract from the Diary of Jobst von Salza.
Battle Report
The fight started off normally enough, the Teutonic Knights lineing the battlefield in front of me, the SPearmen and Feudal Knights up front, and crossbowmen firing at the front.
I sent Dieter ahead, to scout out the enemies army. We dwarf their army, our numbers of 716 against their 418. I am training Assasains, so when this happens.
The Battlefield was fine We occupied a hill, and they were stuck in a ditch.
End of Diary
The Imperial Army waited, while the Danes came. Jobst was scanning the battlefield, when a ball of fire appeared in the sky.
"What the hell is that?" wondered Jobst,
"Sir! Move!" roared Dieter, Jobst, on his horse, galloped away, as a massive flaming stone crashed where he was seconds before. Splinters flew off, one embedding itself in Jobst's armor. Seconds later, a massive crossbolt speared a man nearby, sending him flying.
"Sir, the enemy has Ballistas and Catapaults!" roared Dieter over the twang of arrows, and the crashing of rocks.
Soon, another flaming rock crashed into the front line, sending men sprawlkng, dead by the blast. others nearby caught fire, and their screams filled the air.
The front line was smashed, with a unit of 80 men declining to 40 in mere minutes.
The line of archers ran, as the Dismounted Huscarls charged at them.
Soon, they whole place was embroiled in fighting.
"For Germany!' roared Jobst, and he and his unit charged into the fray.
As Jobst leaned from his addle and cleaved a Danes head, and raised his sheild to block a attack, under the sun he saw Flaming rocks heading towards him. he was doomed. All of a sudden, Siegfred and his unit charged into the Catapault unit, and saved Jobst's life. As the rocks went high. Jobst smashed off another Danes head, inwardly thankful, as he life was in Siegfreds Debt.
"Sir, Captain Ulf is dead!" cheered Dieter, Ulf was the Dane Comander.
Victory!
Jobst approached Siegfred.
"I owe my life to you Knight Siegfred" Jobst old him, Siegfred seemed to nod, but said nothing.
"I have never been in such danger, and you saved me. For your efforts, I make you a Knight."
(Stats:
Emperor Jobst
716 Lost 88 Remaining 628
Captain Ulf (Deceased) 468 Lost 278 Remaining 198)
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Battle South of Florence, 1250
Matthias was overjoyed, he was finally taking ship to the Holy Land and Chancellor von Hamburg had ordered him to bring the Kaiser's Justice to a band of brigands on his way to the fleet. After years of kicking his heels in Bologna, he was finally going to lead men into battle.
I should have voted for him the first time around, Matthias thought with some regret.
The brigands had fled when he and his men first approached, but Matthias pursued them, and as night fell he cornered them against the sea. He deployed his infantry in a line with the Mailed Knights and his own retainers on each flank.
The cavalry moved to encircle the brigands, but something bothered Matthias. There were two units of them, one behind the other, where was the third he had seen before during the pursuit? He ordered his men to approach at a slow pace rather than charge in.
The Mailed Knights spotted the unit of spearmen before they could spring their trap from a small copse of trees.
Matthias ordered them to hold. The ambush had almost worked, but now the brigands were isolated from each other. The Imperial infantry was ordered to sorround the other unit of spearmen while Matthias took his retainers around the flank to take the peasants behind them. The Knights would remain out of the battle for now, though they would charge the would be ambushers if they moved to assist their comrades. When the men were positioned, Matthias ordered the charge.
The infantry and horsemen made contact at the same time. The brigands reeled before Imperial might.
The rebel leader was trampled in the first moments of Matthias's charge.
The two units routed almost instantly. The third unit tried to charge the Mailed Knights but they galloped out of range except for an unlucky few. They broke as well when they found the rest of the Imperial forces at their backs.
Once the routers had been run down, Matthias surveyed the field. It had been terrifying, the shouts of men, the sound of hooves trampling flesh, the tug at his arm when his sword found bone, and yet it was wonderful too. He had brought his men through with light casualties, by the grace of God, and they could now continue to the fleet, and then Outremer.
The Butcher's Bill:
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Iconium 1250
Count Zirn had his orders to mobilize his army for Iconium. There was a Turkish army in the area led by Kujuk-ad-Dawlah he was ordered by the Chancellor to clear this force out before reaching the city. Dieter Rhem a member of the Count's entourage had finally been put to good use. He was responsible for the logistics to have the troops moving at top speed. They had made initial contact with ad-Dawlah who was able to disengage and retreated for Iconium. However, the Count was ready and was able to catch up by mid noon.
*****
The battle was ready to begin and Ingo suggested a evening attack. However, Karl wanted to save the trrops for the seige and did not want to have unnecessary losses in night time fighting.
The Count positoned himself on a hill and there were many in the region. He wanted to protect his seige equipment from damaged but wanted to make use of them on the high ground.
The Turks came charging over the hill.
The Turkish General made the first contact.
The battle continued on the side of the hill with no side being able to get advantage of the terrian.
Young Wolfgang Hummel was assigned to protect the trebuchets and was desperate to get into battle. The Turkish general pulled back form the line and was quickly engaed by some mailed knights. The enemy began disengaging with some of the units routing. When the artillery was no longer in danger Wolfgang was set upon the routing units.
Within hours the battle was over and the Turks disengaged. The Count decided not pursue the enemy and rest his troops for the seige. The end results.
Prinsoners report.
They were all released on the Count's orders.
Iconium the prize was within grasp.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The citadel of Ajaccio stained the Corsican hillside like an unlanced boil. Squat and foreboding, it had been the seat of Milanese power since their expulsion from the Italian mainland. Its three immensely thick concentric walls encompassing massive training facilities from which the exiled merchants readied their armies for raids into Bavarian lands. They had even expended massive amounts of coin to obtain the services of a master swordsmith, ensuring that Milanese blades were always superior to those of their Imperial foes.
Lothar and Markus Steffen sat astride their war horses and stared at the spectacle. Better to keep their minds on the battle ahead than to think of what lay behind them. The Bavarian army had finally trapped the witch Danae in the wooded hills to the east two days before. Lothar shivered at the memory of the encounter.
*****
She cackled and laughed like a banshee. That was wrong. No one acted like this when their life was at an end, especially an end as grisly as the one she was meeting. It was all Lothar could do not to turn away in disgust. Her entrails spilled across the wooden plank. Her eyes were nothing more than charred smudges, dripping ichor across her cheeks. Her fingers and toes lay scattered across the ground like marbles, laying where they had fallen after each had been cut cleanly from her body. Yet still she grinned.
She could not see, could not point, did not even move, yet Lothar knew she was speaking to him.
*Your family is cursed, evil one. Nothing can save you now. The wrath your father invoked with his sin against Pope Gregory is but an infant, a babe of misery the likes of which you cannot comprehend.*
The torturer sliced cleanly through an intestine, severing it from her body, and tossed it into the witches face. She did not even shake her head to remove it.
*I glory in my end, for it is paradise in comparison to that which awaits every man who bears the Steffen name.*
Lothar could take it no more. He strode forward and impaled his dagger into the crone’s throat, pinning her head to the table and severing her spinal cord. Her last exhaled breath came through bubbling blood, but it carried with a sound that was so foully joyful that all within hearing distance began to murmur loudly and back away in fear. She was dead, but he had a feeling as if some greater evil had been unleashed…
*****
“LOTHAR!” Markus was shaking him by the shoulder. The eldest Steffen brother shook his head, as if waking from a deep sleep.
“Sorry, Markus. I have been having trouble concentrating ever since…”
Markus nodded. “I know, I have too. We all have.” He pointed towards the citadel. “That is why we must concentrate on our duty. Idle minds do the devil’s work, so let us put them to use. Do you think we can take it?”
Lothar pursed his lips. “It will be difficult, no doubt about it. Three solid ring walls, each must be breached in turn and they will not fall easily. We outnumber the Milanese by two to one, but other than the Steffen retainers and a small group of Teutons, we have nothing but untrained militia and a handful of Frankish mercenaries to call on. Scouts say that the Milanese defenders are knights to the last man, armed with watered steel that can shatter even the finest Bavarian weapon.”
Markus grinned. “At least they’re not led by a Steffen!”
Lothar snorted and shook his head. His brother was right about that. If the gossip from the local peasants held any grain of truth to it, Count Beca, the Duke of Milan’s heir, was possibly the worst military commander the world had ever seen. Apparently Danae had not liked him any better than she had them.
“It’s a good thing too. They’ve burned all the wood for miles around the castle. We’ve only been able to scrounge enough planks to assemble a single siege tower and a small ram. I would almost be tempted to return to Bavaria and come back with proper siege equipment, except that would require a fleet to transport us!”
Lothar did not know what had happened to the Imperial fleet. The Admiral had promised to return quickly with provisions for the army, but that had been weeks ago and not a single Imperial ship had been seen since. Nearly everything worth scavenging had been stripped from the land and sequestered inside the citadel. As a result, they only had a few more days’ worth of food before rations would have to be cut. When that happened, the army would begin to weaken and any chance at victory would evaporate. Yet attacking had its own risks, without a fleet to fall back to, defeat would mean certain death for every last man in the army.
“Ah, I’m glad you’re here, Markus.” Lothar put his arm around his brother’s shoulder. “If two Steffens can’t get this done, no one can.”
The difficulty was plain for all to see. The concentric ring walls would have to be taken one after another, yet the Bavarians possessed nothing that could strike at the inner gates except the single battering ram. If that ram was somehow destroyed, victory would be impossible, their food would run out, and the army would be obliterated. So, the ram had to be protected at all costs.
Lothar raised his sword. “Forward the tower!” He pointed it at a wall some ways to the west of the main gate. The gesture was dramatic, but unnecessary. The spearmen manning the siege engine knew their destination: a portion of wall on the flank of one of the groups of dismounted knights defending the outer wall. This particular group of militia were better armored and more experienced than their comrades, so they had been chosen. Once up on the wall, they would not have any support until the entire unit had disembarked on the top, allowing another unit to climb behind them. It would take only a few minutes, but in melee with elite defenders, they would be excruciatingly long minutes. Every last man prayed that Count Beca had demoralized his own men enough that the knights would break after only a short fight. If that happened, the outer wall could be taken without risk to the ram. If it did not…
As the siege engine neared the wall, fire arrows began to rain down on it from the few archers manning the nearby towers. The Bavarian watched, unblinking, as half a dozen, then a dozen, then a score of fire arrows thudded into the wooden structure. Even with a thick coating of mud to dampen the wood, it was nerve-wracking. Finally, the tower reached the outer wall and the men began to climb. Lothar spurred his horse forward, riding towards the wall, ignoring the arrows that whistled down around him. Perhaps his presence would reassure his men and keep them fighting harder. God knew that they needed every help they could get.
The militia poured out onto the ramparts and the effect on the defending knights was visible, even from the ground. They were nervous, subdued, and clearly not eager for combat; far from the usual disposition of trained knights. Yet they stood their ground, and that was enough. The combat was a brutal, close-quarters affair. As the militia continued to stream in off the tower, men were being continuously pushed towards the steel line of the Milanese. Despite their battle experience and padded armor, the militia were no match for the heavily armored swordsmen. Bodies began to pile up quickly on the ramparts, and few wore the green livery of Milan.
“Fight harder! Kill them!” Lothar half screamed, half pleaded with his men, but he knew it was futile. Two-thirds of the militia had already fallen and they had taken down no more than a handful of the defenders. There would be no access to Ajaccio by this route.
Lothar cursed in frustration. “Markus!” The younger Steffen heeded the call and rode to his brother’s side. “Send in the ram!”
“If it is set alight…”
“We have no choice, the tower is lost.”
“God help us if the ram is destroyed.” Markus crossed himself and rode off.
With an interminable slowness, the militia crossbowmen began to push the ram towards the main gates. The Steffen brothers cringed as the fire arrows began to thud into the animal hides layered on top.
The last of the militia on the wall broke and ran long before the ram reached the walls, freeing even more tower archers to concentrate on the approaching engine. The fate of the entire Bavarian army depended entirely on the hide coverings resisting the flames being directed at them. After an interminably long period, the ram finally entered the gatehouse overhang, protecting it from further arrows and allowing the crossbowmen to begin battering down the iron gate. The work went surprisingly quickly, and Lothar urged the entire army forward to exploit the opening as soon as it occurred.
He rode over to his brother. “Markus, take the cavalry and sweep the streets around the gatehouse clean as soon as the ram is through.” The younger Steffen nodded, lowered his visor, and rode off to battle. As the gate finally disintegrated in a shower of splintered metal, a cry of joy began to emanate from the rearmost ranks. From their vantage, they could see the Milanese knights disappearing from the ramparts. With the outer gate lost, they were abandoning the wall and retreating to the interior.
Markus’ spearhead caught a large group of the men exiting from a door near the gatehouse. A fierce melee erupted in the street, as knight slew knight and the rest of the army swarmed in behind them.
Markus’ sword was already thick with blood when Lothar rode up moments later. “These bastards won’t break and there is no way to get behind them!”
Lothar grimaced, “Find a way. I will ride deep into the city and try and cut off any other men from retreating to the second wall.”
Markus shook his head. “Alone? That’s insane. Take the Teutons with you, I can hold this line with what I have here, you will need them more than I.” The brothers nodded to each other, clasped arms, and broke in opposite directions.
Most of the streets of Ajaccio were tight, twisting affairs, dominated by towering buildings that loomed right up to the paving stones. As they rode, the knights scanned left and right, constantly on guard for an attack. Yet they did not see a soul until they neared the road that led through one of the middle wall’s gates. As they neared it, the houses began to thin out, their roof lines became lower, and their facings were set father back from the streets. With the added visibility, flashes of green could be seen in the breaks: Milanese soldiers on the move. The second group of knights was nearing the safety of the inner gatehouse when the Teutons broke on them.
*****
Back at the main gate, Markus was becoming increasingly frustrated with the lack of progress against the Milanese foot knights. He gestured to a lieutenant. “Send in the halberdiers to hold the line, I am going to find a way around these damned buildings. Perhaps if they are taken in the rear they will be broken.” The man nodded and turned to his business as Markus Steffen rode off.
*****
Lothar was coated in sweat. He swung his sword down at yet another opponent. He had been fighting for only moments, but already his sword arm ached.
He did not understand it. These men simply would not break. Despite the fact that they were outnumbered two to one, despite the fact that their commander was rumored to be the most inept military leader in history, they fought like demons. Even with the skill of the elite Teutonic order and his own trained bodyguards, the Bavarians were taking grievous casualties. It was a battle of attrition, and neither side was gaining on the other.
*****
Markus could see their backsides. It had taken an interminably long time to find a way through the streets and to the rear of the main gate defenders. Yet he knew the maneuver would pay off as he spurred his horse forward, urging his men to charge into the unprotected rear of the Milanese knights.
The effect was instantaneous. The knights, who had stood their ground without wavering for many minutes, slaying countless Bavarian knights and militia alike, crumpled like parchment under the impact of the heavy horse. The survivors tried to flee, but they were cut down where they stood. Finally, the main gate was clear and the ram could begin to move towards the second of Ajaccio’s great walls.
When order had been restored, he rode out to find his brother, the army trailing in the streets behind him. The two Steffens met at the site of Lothar’s battle outside the second gatehouse. The mound of dead, horse and man alike, told of the result.
“The entire outer ring is now secure, my brother.”
Lothar clapped him on the shoulder. “Excellent work. You have down well today, Markus. I will see to it that you are properly knighted at the first possible occasion.” He winked. “As if that was ever in doubt.” He turned and gazed at the second gatehouse, standing silent and hostile. “Now… what shall we do about that?”
“Only the ram can breach it, but sending it straight in will risk its destruction once again by the inner tower archers. We need a distraction to draw the defenders away.”
“Indeed. During my days of schooling, my tutor made me study the records of many battles. I remember a few references to attacking armies gaining access to inner ring walls through unguarded doors in the outer walls. Let us send the militia around the city and try and find a route into the inner walls from the rear.” Markus nodded and rode off to give the orders.
While the militia marched around the flank of the middle wall, the crossbowmen resumed their toil and pushed the ram into position near the second gatehouse. At one point they ventured too close to a defended segment of inner wall, and half a dozen fire arrows lanced out before the men could react. They scrambled as fast as they could to push the all-important siege engine out of harms way, eventually taking a much slower back route to ensure that a similar encounter did not occur again. Finally, they arrived in position.
The minutes dragged on as the men waited for word from the flanking militia. Finally, an exhausted runner turned a corner and approached Lothar. He gasped a few words and then collapsed in a panting heap on a nearby stoop. Lothar screamed with rage and pounded his mailed fists against a nearby doorway.
“Can nothing go right today?! Heavens above, perhaps we really are cursed.”
Markus walked over to his brother. “What is it?!”
Lothar scowled. “The militia reached the wall and found the door, but they cannot get inside it! It is barred and those fools cannot figure out a way to break it down.”
“We have no choice, order in the ram.” Once again the fate of the entire army depended on a few scattered animal hides strapped to the top of the siege engine. The fire arrows thudded into ram and flesh alike, but the former remained unlit and the few burning crossbowmen were quickly replaced by their comrades. The Bavarians’ luck, if it could be called that, held and the ram reached the safety of the gatehouse overhang, where it began its bone-rattling work.
At least the men who operated it were competent at their task. The second iron portcullis was soon thrown asunder, but with his knights heavily depleted and with the infantry still on the other side of the castle, any attempt to cut off the retreating Milanese knights was foolish. The Count and the knights who held the middle wall escaped into the third ring of fortifications without molestation.
Lothar signaled to one of the dozen or so Teutons who had survived the earlier melee. “Go and open the side gate near the militia. And tell them to move on the double, the day is growing late and we cannot stay in this town at night if it remains hostile. We must make haste to overcome this last wall or all will be lost!”
The Teutons saluted and rode off to comply. When the side gate was finally raised, the entering militia were greeted by the mocking stares of the mounted knights. “Good work taking the walls, boys.” One of the Teutons jeered.
*****
Lothar conferred with Markus “Alright, let’s try this again. Scouts have reported that this time there is an unbarred doorway on the middle wall that should lead to the ramparts of the inner wall. It will take precious time, of which we are growing short, but it is still better than risking all to the whims of the flame for a third time.”
Markus chuckled. “Let’s hope the militia are capable of breaking into an open doorway. When we return to Italy, remind me to ask someone why the Bavarian Household Army is composed of nothing but militia.”
Lothar shook his head. “The entire Reich is falling to pieces around us, Markus. We had best start looking after ourselves.”
*****
The militia began their long march around the walls of Ajaccio once again. The knights holding the last wall followed them, manning the towers as they moved ever westward, towards the reportedly open doorway. At one point, a unit of militia strayed too close to the second inner gateway and three men were quickly cut down by defending arrows.
After many long minutes, yet another runner approached Lothar. “Milord, the men have reached the doorway and it is indeed open. But… but, there appears to be a second doorway some distance inside the wall which our men cannot breach. They cannot obtain the inner wall.”
Markus expected his brother to lash out again in anger, but this time only fatigue washed across his face. He waved his hand and dismissed the runner. “We are cursed Markus, make no mistake about it. Father was not wrong to spend so many years in that Roman abbey. The foul witch truly did have power over the fates.”
Markus broke the awkward silence that followed. “We cannot fail now that we are so close to victory. Only one wall remains between us and Count Beca. If we breach that, we have only a hard fight and then some hard drinking. If we can distract the defenders long enough to get the ram to the wall unmolested, we will have won.”
“And how, little brother, do you suggest we do that?”
“Simple. Tell the militia to assemble outside the secondary gateway.”
Lothar’s eyebrows arched. “They will be shot to pieces…” Markus nodded as his brother continued on, “…thereby depriving this gate of any archers who could set the ram alight! Markus, you’re a blood genius!”
*****
The defenders of the inner rampart realized the deception, but it was too late. Barely a dozen had made it to the gatehouse when the ram broke through the final barrier between the Bavarians and remaining Milanese garrison.
For once, not a single fire arrow had tested the integrity of the hides covering the top of the siege engine. The remaining defenders abandoned the walls and retreated to join the Milanese Ducal heir in the parade ground at the base of the keep. They would make a final stand in a place where retreat was not an option. The knowledge would surely make every Milanese soldier fight to his last breath, negating any advantage from Count Beca’s ineptitude.
Once again, the Teutons rode around the walls to open up the side gate and let the militia through.
There was no amusement on their faces this time when the infantry began to stream through the final wall; only mutterings about militia and the occasional curse.
The entire battered and exhausted Bavarian army began to assemble in lines around the remaining Milanese knights. Time was very short, but Lothar knew the final assault had to be properly prepared. The Milanese would not turn and run from this place, but his men might if they began to fear for their lives. Fear was a disease that spread as quickly as the wind. The men were already exhausted, many were bloodied, and without the training of professional soldiers their discipline was in doubt. They had to be held together for one final push.
The signal was given and the charge began from all sides. Lance, spear, sword, and halberd were all brought to bear against the enemy from every conceivable direction. The dismounted Milanese found themselves enveloped on both flanks, while Count Beca’s mounted bodyguards were taken simultaneously in front and rear. The spearmen and halberdiers were proving extremely effective against the horsemen. A quarter of the Count’s bodyguards were already down, but the Bavarians were taking losses as well.
As Lothar feared, the exhaustion and sheer terror of combat proved too much. Before his eyes, a battered group of spearmen broke contact with the Milanese bodyguards and fled. He blew his signaling horn in an attempt to rally the men, but it was futile. As if in a nightmare, the panic began to spread just as he had predicted. The halberdiers dropped their weapons and ran for safety. Count Beca’s rear was now totally free and his retainers turned their full force on the men to their front. It was only a matter of time before they too broke, at which point the entire army would disintegrate and the battle would be lost.
Lothar spurred his horse forward and charged into the battle with his counterpart’s men. He was tired and bloodied from the previous fighting in the street, while his opponents were fresh and outnumbered his men by two to one. Yet he had no choice. Lothar slashed wildly at all who surrounded him while simultaneously shouting encouragements to the wavering men all around him.
“Fight on, you Bavarian bastards! Fight for your Duke! Fight for God! Fight for yourselves!”
Men fell screaming all around him. Limbs were cleaved from bodies, helms split in twain. He parried a blow by a man to his right and riposted, driving his sword deep into his foe’s chest. He pulled back to yank the weapon out, but his grip slipped. The blade was embedded deep in bone and mail and his hand was slick with blood. The Milanese knight fell back off his horse, taking Lothar’s sword with him. Noticing the helpless Bavarian, another bodyguard unleashed a vicious assault on him. Lothar held his shield high with both hands, but he could do nothing except endure the blows that continued to break over him again and again.
By the sixth blow, his shield began to splinter apart. On the ninth blow, the left side collapsed altogether. The tenth landed directly on his left shoulder. The mail held and prevented what would surely have been a mortal cut, but the impact threw him from his horse. As he fell flailing, the remnants of his tattered shield disappeared into the confusion around him. He was totally defenseless, sprawled on the ground in the midst of the enemy.
The bodyguard who had so brutally battered him rode a few steps forward and brought his sword up for one final, devastating cut. Instinctually, Lothar raised his hands to shield himself from the blow that would end his life. They held there in the air, shaking heavily, while time seemed to slow around him.
He could see the glistening sweat on the face of a Bavarian militiaman. A drop of blood flew lazily through the air from an arcing blade. He could even see the ridges and slits on the hoof of a rearing horse. All was clear, all was visible, and all was silent.
It took Lothar a few seconds to realize that the fatal blow had not fallen. He lowered his hands and saw his brother, Markus, grappling with the Milanese knight who stood over him. The two men were locked, arm in arm, in a titanic battle of strength and will. With one immense push, Markus threw his opponent back, reached a hand to the dagger at his waist, and plunged it into the man’s chest. He screamed and fell from his horse.
Markus turned to look at Lothar, a grin on his face. He lowered his hand to help his brother up from the ground, but froze midway. His smile disappeared and the blood drained from his face. Then his forward momentum resumed and he toppled down, off his mount. As he fell, Lothar saw the sword pull free of his brother’s back. He screamed.
Markus’ own retainers fell on the man who had stabbed their Lord. The wave of battle flowed past them and the Milanese line crumbled. Somewhere, a joyous cry showed that Count Beca had fallen. Shortly afterwards, the sounds of battle turned into cheers of celebration.
Lothar Steffen heard none of it. Cradling his brother in his arms, he wept openly. Markus, his face white as snow, coughed once and gave a half smile. “I’ll be alright. It’s not that…” Markus never finished the sentence. His eyes closed and his head sagged as death took him. Lothar screamed.
It was several minutes before anyone dared to approach Lothar. Finally, one of his bodyguards summoned up the courage. “Milord, what shall we do with the captives?”
The eldest son of Gerhard Steffen did not look up. “Kill them. Kill them all.”
“The… the prisoners, my lord? They could give a good ransom.”
“The prisoners. The Count’s retainers. His servants. His wife. His children. His dogs. His horse. His people. All of them. They will pay for what they have done to my brother.” He looked up at the man. His eyes were red, his face streaked with tears. “The whole citadel. Put it to the sword.”
Minutes later the screams of death resumed. They continued for hours as the Bavarians rampaged through the town, killing everything that moved. Still, Lothar heard none of it. All he saw was his brother’s lifeless face. All he heard was Danae’s last words, echoing through his mind.
“…I glory in my end, for it is paradise in comparison to that which awaits every man who bears the Steffen name.”
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Siege of Iconium 1252
Count Zirn had followed the Turkish Army to the City of Iconium. He has immediately set up the siege equipment and was ready to starve the city out. His goal had been Iconium on direction of the Diet to capture the city from the Turks and offer it to the Byzantine Empire.
The previous encounter with General Kujuk ad-Dawlah was not in the operation plan but the battle was short and the victory clear. The Count had sufficient resources to take the city.
The battle plan was to utilize the artillery and then move in with the troops calvary was scarce and Count Zirn knew the plan would involve not only his men but that of young Wolfgang Hummel. It was time he earned his spurs. The lad was eager to go.
The Count waited for nightfall. This was a different tatic and he knew his opponet was a nightfigher but darkness would help to breach the large city.
0002 hrs Shock and Awe
The artillery let loose and things were going well till impatience set in and the confusion of darkness. The captians moved out after the gates were breached but the walls had many archers.
As a diversion the siege platform was put to the wall but was engulfed in the flames of the defending archers. One regiment of knights was sent far off to flank the enemy.
The maneuver worked and 2 regiments of defenders headed for the ladders on the wall.
The gate house was taken and the Turks had artillery set up in the main street to defend the gate. The troops poured through the gate taking the archers off the wall and rushing their way down the main throughway.
At this point the two generals mad their move into the city and fighting along side streets to the centre square. Young Hummel staggered behind at the gate to assist the foot troops with the last few defenders.
Count Zirn crashed into the centre square just as his spearmen were coming in the other direction. General ad-Dawlah went for the infantry. More artillery was set up in the square and the balistas were ready to fire on the mass of troops converging. The Count encourages his men to fight.
Wolfgang arrived in the centre in time and takes out the artillery units before any damage his done. General ad-Dawlah falls in battle but the Turks are not discouraged. Just when it appeared that battle could be a draw the other Reich units poured in from different streets to converge on the remaining Turks.
It's over and at a huge cost to the Count.
The Turks were destroyed those that surrendered were released on the Count's orders. Their general was no longer a threat.
In the heat of battle he forgot what the goal of Iconium was about; there was no strategic value it was going to another empire. Good men wasted, could he have besieged them longer till they sallied out? Did the men move in too soon? Questions he could not ponder on for too long. He must return east has the Horse Lords are now in contact with the Reich Armies in the Outremer.
There was also a new general that would be given his own command. The dispatch was send at once to the Chancellor to advise him of the gallantry that only a true knight could display like young Wolfgang Hummel.
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Outside Aleppo, 1252
"Okay, here's the plan," Conrad Salier said to the young Franconian Jan von Hamburg, son of Chancellor Fredricus. "A small Egyptian force is lurking outside of Aleppo, which could presumable bring trouble and block our movements to and from Edessa. Our job is to make sure that that army is no longer a threat to anyone."
Jan nodded. This would be the young nobleman's first battle. He sat and listened to Conrad, eager to do whatever the King of Outremer told him. This was not so much because Jan had that type of personality, no. He just wanted to get knighted.
"We're going to fight this thing at night so half of our men don't collapse in the heat," Conrad continued. "Basically, this is going to be a simple, brutal assault. We're going to give the Egyptians a tough time with our crossbows and then charge straight in with a couple of regiments to finish them off. Look lively when fighting. I'm sure your father wants another knight in Outremer."
Jan wanted to be knighted, but Conrad's blunt way of explaining the strategy to him unnerved him a little bit. "So I just charge right in?" he asked. "Don't you think we should be a little bit more prudent after what happened to Markus?"
"If you think that the circumstances in Markus's death are the same here, please, think again," Conrad said. "We're fighting on an open field, not some three-level citadel. There are more of us, less of them, and our men are of much better quality. We have a massive advantage in height, and I'm not as reckless as that Lothar. Jan, this is the most prudent situation I can give you and still be able to argue that you should be knighted."
Jan nodded, slightly pale. The majority of the army they were facing were spears.
"We'll be fine," Conrad said reassuringly. "Come on, let's fight this thing before it gets too dark."
The two generals left for their escorts and Conrad deployed for the fight. The Imperial army had planted itself on top of some significant heights, while the small Egyptian force, commanded by its Sultan, was below.
"Crossbows, fire!"
Three regiments of pavise crossbowmen and one battered unit of Turkopiles began unleashing their arrows on the enemy below. After two volleys and several hits, the Sultan moved his men closer to the heights, which also meant that the crossbowmen no longer had the angle to attack.
"Begin marching down the hill!" Conrad ordered. "Crusaders and Armored Sergeants first! Then the escorts! Crossbowmen, find a spot where you can fire! Everyone else, hold!"
The exodus down the heights began. From his vantage point, Conrad saw that the main battle would probably take place near the bottom, but still on the slope.
The infantry clash did not last long. The Saracen Militia, outnumbered and outclassed, quickly fell to the superior numbers and quality of the Imperial spearmen. Conrad watched it all from halfway up the slope, judging when the time was right to charge.
Finally, when the Egyptian spears were about half down, he turned to Jan.
"All right, let's go."
The Egyptian Sultan, who had not entered the battle personally yet, heard the thunder of hoofbeats coming down the slope and looked up. Cursing silently in Arabic, he prepared his men to countercharge.
The two Imperial escorts crashed through the remaining Saracens, who slowed them down just long enough to be countercharged by the Sultan. With all of their momentum gone, they would simply have to hack their way through the defenders.
"If you want to earn it, earn it now!" Conrad yelled to Jan. The young Franconian nodded and set to the task.
After a few bloody minutes, the task was complete. The Saracens had disappeared completely and the Sultan had only extricated himself and a handful of other cavalrymen.
Conrad carefully inspected his young partner's armor, checking for bloodstains and scratches. Satisfied, he gave Jan the good news.
"Was that fun?" he asked. Jan nodded. Battles were a lot easier after they were finished.
"Good," Conrad said. "Because this was a tune-up. Pretty soon the real fun begins."
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Thorn, 1252 AD
It was night in the city of Thorn, all seemed quite as he had seemed for the past years. Thorn had been under siege for a full 2 years now, but there was hardly anything to worry about; there was plenty of food and water, sides the Poles failed to secure the river entirely and resources could be brought into the city from time to time. People even managed to leave the city.
During the first year of the siege there was plenty of fighting. The garrison sallied out to destroy a stronghold or the Poles were practise shooting at the walls, but in the second year this stopped. It seemed like the Poles didn't dare to attack, and the Thorn garrison didn't care about fighting anymore, they knew they couldn't fight the Poles on the flat plains outside the city as the Poles had swift horsemen. But by the middle of 1252 news came of reinforcements led by Fritz von Kastilien had crossed the Vistula earlier that year and were making for Thorn.
That brought some action into the Poles again who started making another siege tower so that they could take the city before the reinforcements could arrive. Soon however it seemed like the reinforcements halted as they had to rest to make the final push towards Thorn, and this also could be seen in the activities of the Poles outside Thorn, who stopped many of their guard duties.
But this night was going to be different. Inside Thorn knights gathered around the main gate, but this all happened as quiet as possible. Tonight was the night that Fritz von Kastilien would come within striking distance and tonight was the night to sally out.
On the walls three men were looking at the Poles in the distance.
"I want to attack tonight," said the youngest of them. "Ansehelm, you take the spearmen on the right, the Teutons will attack the left, while father and me charge through the middle. In the meantime Gert von Runstede will lead the infantry out of the city to form a line in front of the gate. We should be quick and hit them before they know what's happening, the night isn't as dark as it could be so we won't be able to use it at our full advantage, but Fritz will attack them from behind. If things go as planned the battle may be over before we even know it. Let's go."
The three men came down from the wall and mounted their horses. The gate opened and the garrison stormed out.
The Poles, who saw the enemy coming, quickly assembled a defensive line to defend their siege equipment, but this line was doomed at the moment is was made. Within seconds they were hit by an almighty body of heavely armoured knights.
And while all this happened the Poles became aware that they were being attacked from behind as well.
Quickly the Polish lines were beginning to fall, the infantry routed within seconds. The honourable nobles held out for a little longer, but they too were routed from the battlefield.
The outcome:
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Budapest 1252
Might I suggest we we set up in a three pronged attack my Duke?
The young Duke Arnold looked up from the map of Budapest City to scowl at his Military Engineer Sigfreid.
Sigfreid you blithering idiot, THEIR REBELS!! What's even worse, their rebels in Austria, and you know I can't stand disloyalty!!
Looking back down at the map Arnold could see Sigismund von Mahren from the corner of his eye. Without looking up Arnold continued speaking almost in a whisper.
Their all going to die, they know it, we know it, and so does God...
Arnold was pleased to see Sigismund face show no sign of emotion at that statement. Sigismund was going to earn his spurs come hell or high water tonight and sieges we always a dangerous place for cavalry.
Placing both mailed fists on the city map Arnold again gazed back at his Captains and advisers.
Right you scum!! This isn't the real battle, this is just a warm up. The real battle is following us about half a years march from here. Three Hungarian armies are heading this way to recapture their Capital. What they don't realise is we will have it safely back under Austrian control by the time they turn up!!!
What that means is we are ending this charade tonight. We will go in under cover of darkness in a concentrated force.
No pissing about, no diversions, nothing but straight up slaughter.
First man into the square gets a night with my horse and my eternal gratitude for restoring Austrian lands to me.
Gazing steadily at his troops Arnold could sense their anticipation.
More importantly men, we MUST get this over an done with, so we can wheel and turn to face the oncoming Hungarian's with enough time to rearm and repair this city!!
The situation:
Frontal Assault:
The towers make it to the wall:
The gate comes down:
The right flank gets decimated:
The battle for the gate:
Sigismund forces his way through gaining his Knighthood:
Sigismund presses home the attack:
Victory!!!
Crap I forgot to take screen shots of the stats until this point!!
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Near Thorn, 1254 AD
Ansehelm looked to his right and to his left. What he saw was what was called the Franconian Household Army. A well trained and strong army, made up of Knights, Sergeants and Mercenaries, one of the few strong and professional armies left in Europe at this time. And now it would be tested. On a hill not far away there was a strong Russian army, it had penetrated deep into the Reich and here, near the Vistula it came to a fight. The Russians seemed ready, they had everything in their favour; a hill, numbers and they were battleworn. But Ansehelm had one advantage, the FHA existed of veterans, of men who fought for their own survival on numerous occassions, of men who knew how to win against the odds.
Ansehelm rode to the nearest group of infantry.
"Are you ready for it Gert?"
"As ready as I'll ever be sir, and so are the men," Von Runstede answered.
"That's good. Gert, I want you to lead the attack of the infantry, you're an experienced man, hence why I gave you this job. I know you prefered to be Thorn's garrisons commander, but you're one of the best captains I know."
"Thank you sir."
"Now listen, till the archers come into shooting range we will march together, but at that moment I want you to take over control of the infantry and steadely march on the enemy. I will take the cavalry and charge their infantry lines. They are mostly militia and will quickly fall, I will pull my cavalry out and you can send in some groups to deal with the remaining Russians. Prepare to come under heavy missile fire as your slow marching ranks will be an ideal target for their Horse Archers, but try to lure them to charge you, I will send my cavalry around their flank and attack them from behind. Oh, and good luck."
"You too sir."
Ansehelm marches the army towards the enemy.
It's over, and the Russians are finished.
Artillery is seized.
Victory for the Reich!!!
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Budapest 1254
Having penned his last wishes should he die, Arnold looked around the palatial interior of his residence in Budapest. He knew, as Duke, no one would be living has he would, given the situation.
Outside he could here the crying of women and children already. The siege had just begun and already pestilence had started taken the lives of the weak.
What to do thought Arnold...
His spy has alerted him to the fact that none of the Hungarian commanders had the skill to command troops at night. He knew that a night raid would see him victorious against this Hungarian force, but what of the other two.
It would be a long and grinding year if chose to sit behind the walls of Budapest.
Gazing into the fire Arnold was lost in thought.
Across the room his adviser the Military Engineer Sigfried could see the his Lords eyes turn a shade of madness he has never seen before.
Standing, Arnold drew his father sword looking down it's blade, as he walked out side the feel of his Field Plate Armour gave his a sense of invincibility, his confidence grew and the rush of adrenaline that came with a decision filled his eyes with tears!!
“Sigismund!!! Prepare the men!! We're going to attack!! Sigfried get out here and tell me the range of these Hungarian siege weapons.”
At that moment, out of an ally came a young women screaming for her life. Behind her a solider in the Austrian heavy foot regiment could be seen close behind.
Arnold stepped forward sword in hand, in one efficient swing he decapitated the solider. Head and body tumbled to the ground, blood sprayed both Arnold and onlookers alike.
Silence...
...into that silence Arnold's sword could be heard sliding back into its scabbard.
“Sigismund whip the blood off your face and move!!!! Sigfried, get some men to clean this up and pay the girls father for his troubles."
Looking at body guardsmen through bloody eyes he whispers.
"Tell your fellow soldiers, that I will not tolerate indiscipline and if they can't comply I will hunt them down in their sleep!!"
Sigismund takes out some catapults
The skirmishing continues
Arnold presses forward
Hungarian artillery is still functioning
Hungarian last stand
Victory
Sigismund chasing down the scum
Arnold joins the slaughter
Clear Victory
A Dread Knight joins the party
And so does a Notorious Berserker
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Budapest 1254 continued
The fury on Arnold face caused sheer terror in most. His captains and Sigismund seem to be the only one's able to walk and talk without being frozen in horror by his presence. By contrast Grom the Berserker and the Dread Knight Bane seemed oblivious to it all and casually spoke about the coming battle.
“That effeminate, wine swilling piece of crap Hans has said the last words he ever will to me!!!
By god I'm going to take his challenge one step further. I want BOTH Hungarian armies destroyed today!!”
The startled look on his captains faces was clear to see.
“But my lord that is madness!”; said one of the younger captains
Arnold turned on the newly appointed man, his eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY!!”
The Berserker Grom laid his huge hand on the young Captains shoulder and removed him Arnold view with his huge frame. Arnold walk up to the Berserker's chest and tilted his head to speak with him as his eyes only reached his throat.
“Grom, stand aside.” said Arnold quietly.
Grom's answer was a simple shake of his massive head in disagreement.
By now everyone in the Command tent was watching the unfolding scene in silence.
“GROM, I SAID MOVE!!”
The giant berserker did move.
Bane moved up beside the young Duke. His hallow voice cutting through the tension.
“My Lord, let him be, you have preparation to attend to if you wish to attack two armies in one day.”
Nobody moved as Arnold considered the words spoken by the Dread Knight. Moments passed, the air in the tent became oppressive with the silence.
The Dread Knight placed his hand on the Duke shoulder, gently guiding him towards the map placed on the Command tents main table.
The tension visibly eased as Arnold began barking orders about the coming battle.
The Situation:
Set up:
Arnold and Sigismund on the right flank:
The Hungarians press the advantage:
The tide turns:
Reinforcement arrive:
Victory:
Stats:
What do you think the Dread Duke does?
Arnold fulfills his ambition to make his father proud:
That evening:
The situation:
The night brings no cover from the artillery:
The battle lines meet:
It's over before it begins:
Victory:
Confirmed:
Stats:
Money over Dread...not likely:
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
1254, in the forests of Northern Germany
It was still dark as Siegfried von Kastillien surveyed his men. He was feeling out of breath already, his arm aching and his armour dented in several places. Not to mention the grizzly sights he had trouble putting out of his head. He surpressed a sudden urge to vomit, not that there was much left in his stomach. It had only just begun though. The recent encounter with the Danish army just to the North of them had just been a warm-up for the real fight. Mainly Militia it had been an easy victory.
Looking ahead he knew, that the upcoming battle would not be as easy. This time they faced battle-hardened War Clerics supported by highly trained Infantry Militia. Once again Emperor Jobst had decided to deploy Siegfried on the right of the Imperial line, leading the cavalry to make the decisive flanking attack, just like the one that had broken the Militia in the previous battle.
The Danish, although surprised and disrupted by the Imperial night attacks, had nevertheless managed to hole up in a dense forest. Siegfried cursed, this would negate much of their cavalry's effectiveness. Still, they had no other choice but to advance, and so they did. The Imperial line advancing slowly through a hail of Danish crossbow bolts.
The infantry charged forward, the Armoured Sergeants forming a solid line, while the Dismounted Feudal Knights were supposed to hold the left flank in the deepest part of the forest. For Siegfried it was simple to take his men around the right flank of the enemy and once the lines had engaged he ordered his men to charge!
The impact of the Imperial cavalry was brutal, but the War Clerics were abundant in numbers and had lined up behind their Infantry line, ready to countercharge the Imperial attackers. Siegfried lashed out to his left and right, but soon the battle lines had dissovled and turned into a confusing slugfest for both sides. Slowly the Imperials seemed to be gaining the upper hand though. Several times, fleeing Danish troops passed Siegfried and his short attempts of following them brought him further and further from the main battle.
Slowly the clamour of battle died down and it seemed as though Emperor Jobst had led his men to another victory, but above several cries of jubilation, Siegfried could still hear the sound of battle, this time coming from the other side of the battle line. There wasn't supposed to be anyone there expect for the Imperial Pavises who had covered their initial advance and suddenly Siegfried realized that the hail of their bolts had stopped about halfway through the battle.
Cursing loudly he spurred his horse onwards and ordered his men to follow. Sure enough several War Clerics had used the cover of the woods to attack the unprotected Imperial missiles. As Siegfried charged he saw Emperor Jobst accompanied by some Teutonic Knights leave the woods to his right and soon the remaining War Clerics had been dispersed. The Imperial Missiles had been severely crippled though.
Now that the battle was over, Siegfried could no longer hold back the images of hacked limbs and strewn bodies. Raising his helmet he relieves the meagre contents of his stomach onto the field. Recovering just in time to see Emperor Jobst approach his bodyguard. Hopefully he hadn't noticed Siegfrieds temporary weakness.
"You fought well tonight, Siegfried! There's only a small contigent left, if we hurry we can catch them before sunrise and then hurry north to lift the siege of Hamburg! Once we're through there is no doubt that you will be knighted for your bravery!"
Apparently, he hadn't.
________________________________________________________
Early Morning:
The last of the Danish that had surrounded them were composed of a mixture of troops and had brought several pieces of artillery with them. Lacking a sufficient number of Missile troops, Emperor Jobst had seen no other option but to charge the enemy, who had decided to make their last stand upon a small hill overlooking the approaching Imperial Army.
Once again Siegfried found himself on the right flank, leading the cavalry, this time accompanied a little closer by Emperor Jobst, who would be following his charge. The Imperials advanced slowly onto the Danish position, and it didn't take long before fiery balls were hurtled from the catapults brought to the field by the Danish.
Shortly before the Imperial lines closed in, Siegfried noticed how one of the fireballs hit the Emperor's bodyguard square on, the screams of horse and riders was terrible to behold, but already he had spurred his horse forward, which was carrying him into battle.
Once again the Danish were engaged head on by the Imperial infantry while the Teutonic Knights along with Siegfried and Jobst bodyguard made short process with the remaining Danish forces.
It was not until the battle was over that Siegfried noticed something was wrong. During the fight more and more cries of: "For the Emperor! For Jobst!" had been heard than in the more recent battles. The soldiers seemed to have been driven by some inner fury and the assault and been brutal and short. The joy over the victory seemed muted.
"Siegfried, Siegfried! Come at once!" It was Dieter, the trusted follower of Emperor Jobst who was now approaching him. "Come quick, it's the Emperor, he's dying!" Numbed by the shock of these news Siegfried quickly follows Dieter back to the place where the catapult shot has disrupted the Emperor's bodyguard. It was a grizzly sight that greeted him and it was all Siegfried could do not to avert his gaze or vomit once more.
Charred bodies were scattered and the stench of burning flesh hung in the air. Two bodyguards lay on the ground, their whole body covered in blackened flesh, their faces distorted in agony, their horses had fared little better, one had a large wound on his neck, where another man had put the horse out of misery. Amidst the carnage lay a barely recognizable figure. If Dieter hadn't told him so he would have never recognized him as Jobst.
Still numbed Siegfried kneels down by his Emperor. His lips are cracked from the heat and his face has been cleaned of the black ash, revealing the blisters of his burns. Only the eyes seem to be untouched by the horror visited upon his body as Jobst focuses on Siegfried. "Fought well... you did!" his voice was thin and he had to lean closer to hear the man in front of him.
"My heir... you! Long... live... ... Kaiser!" with that the last glow left in his eyes vanishes. Only now Siegfried takes in the men surrounding him. The Knight who had been holding Jobst upright and in whose arms the Emperor had died. Dieter who was standing behind him, looking at him approvingly and the rest of the Emperors bodyguard standing around him. Slowly the men kneeled before him to acknowledge their new Emperor.
Still numbed, Siegfrieds gaze returns to the charred Emperor, unable to tear his gaze away he fells the warm streaks, as tears run down his face and for once his desire to vomit is succumbed by the feelings of loss and confusion overwhelming him.
OOC: Pictures follow, as always!
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Placeholder for the defense of Hamburg.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Edessa, 1256
"They found out!"
"Who," the Chancellor paused, trying to put as much emphasis as possible on every syllable spoken, perhaps in an attempt to convey the annoyance he felt due to receiving such an undetailed report, "and... what?"
"The Mongols, about the other ford!"
That could have been expected. There was another possible place to cross the Euphrates, at least in the dry season. It was somewhere north of Edessa, at the foot of a mountain range. The terrain is very rough, and after only nominal scouting, we had thought that it was impossible to follow the northern bank of the Euphrates down to the plains of Aleppo. This seems to have proven less correct than initially hoped.
"No matter," the Chancellor responded, "Salier will be able to make it up there while the enemy is held up here. His army is sufficiently large now to take them on."
Oh, but this scout was not yet done. "They've gone to the north. A part of their army has already crossed the river. Edessa has been bypassed."
The Chancellor's expression darkened. He was obviously unhappy with this, even though it was actually good news. I had to speak up.
"Sir, this isn't a bad thing. Edessa has been saved. We can still set up a defense around Aleppo and the rivers in Syria. It will take them a long time to make it along that bank. We still control the southern bridge."
I don't think he heard me.
"How many of them have already crossed?" He asked.
"About one half, their armies can only cross one at a time. The third one has probably crossed at least in part by now. I would expect the fourth one to still be on this side."
"Excellent. They've had to abandon the formation they've held so far, and cross single-file. Mobilize the entire army. I want to be at that ford before dark."
North of Edessa, near the Euphrates, 1256
As we reached the end of the plateau, the scouts reported that the trailing Mongol army was just ahead, and that it had not yet descended to the river. We would have to fight uphill, as there was a small rise before the drop off. The next Mongol army was down by the river, but it had not yet crossed, and would be able to turn around rather quickly. The first two armies were probably not a factor. The Chancellor had a point, this was an improvement over attacking them in completely open terrain, where they would, without a doubt, be able to bring at least three of their armies to bear against you. As a counter-point, there were still two very large Mongol armies ahead. I was also somewhat concerned about the Chancellor's plan, which he relayed to us as we were marching. It basically consisted of charging straight for the Mongol center and destroying their heavy cavalry, artillery, and, most importantly, killing their general. He intended to repeat this maneuver for the second army. He did not seem particularly concerned about large numbers of horse archers that would, by this stage, be surrounding our army. I guess he didn't fear arrows much, but they have been known to maim and kill.
We deployed in a battle formation at the last moment. The sun had already set behind the tall peaks beyond the Euphrates, and the first Mongol army was just over the crest.
The enemy must have been somewhat surprised to see a mighty army of the Reich as they came over the crest. They quickly turned around, artillery and all, and began to withdraw, without a doubt in an attempt to link up with their second army.
If there was any sense to the Chancellor's plan, it was that we would be taking on the core of each Mongol army separately. If they combined, it would be even more suicidal than before. This is why the order to charge up the hill was given. As we came up the hill, the enemy archers and artillery began to fire.
I imagine that most who had never seen the Mongols in battle before, including me, were taken aback by the sight. I need not think of words to describe it, for the Chancellor spoke up at that very moment.
"Wow, it's beautiful. Reminds me of a snowstorm in Franconia. The arrows look just like snowflakes caught in a strong wind."
Of course, somebody from the back had to respond: "Did you have a volcano in Franconia too, or did the giant balls of fire accompany the snow from the clouds?"
Ah, nothing like humor to take your mind off the fact that your commander may be going ever so slightly insane.
We charged up the hill and attacked the Mongol center. We plowed through the infantry, we killed the lancers, we destroyed the artillery. But most of all, we collapsed around the Mongol general.
Berkei the Wrathful fell.
The rest of the Mongol center fled. However, we had quite a problem.
One of the knights that had been fighting a bit further up the hill rode up to us.
"Five," he said, "five squadrons of heavy lancers up there. We lost many men, I don't think we can make it up that hill to take on five, especially under all this... aaaaaaaarrrrgghghrhhhhh!!!"
"... arrow fire, I think he meant," I added.
Five was a bit much. There wasn't complete intelligence on the enemy army composition before we set out. But, as it turned out, there were no heavy lancers in the first group, and yes, five in the second. If the situation had been reversed, this might have even worked, as we could have made a well-organized, concentrated attack. But with the army scattered and depleted, many horse archers around, and a long way, uphill, to get to them, it did seem impossible. At this stage, I wondered just how grave a situation would have to be, before the Chancellor started to begin to consider withdrawing.
"Well, I suppose there is no point in wasting lives. It would be difficult to fight all those lancers uphill. Let us regroup at Edessa. We shall attack those horse archers behind us on our way out."
And so it was. We attacked some horse archers that had gotten behind us, but they fled quickly, probably due to the death of their general. Once the way was clear, the infantry was sent first, and what was left with the cavalry, the Chancellor's own bodyguard, and two veteran groups of knights, covered the rear, attacking any enemy horse who dared get too close. During this, they took heavy arrow fire.
In the end, the Chancellor was the last to leave the field of battle.
Result:
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Adana 1256
It was a cool night well past the midnight hour and a soft rainfall was the only remnant of a violent storm that had passed over the fortress hours earlier.
Count Zirn was reading through Reich dispatches regarding Kaiser Jobst's heroic death and the fall out from the Electors concerning the successor to the throne.
There was a rapid knock at the door and then it immediately swung open two men rushed in Ingo and Peter. Peter was the newest member of the Count's entourage. He was a veteran warrior who brought a wealth of experience and was assisting in the organizational matters of the Count's army.
Ingo spoke first." My lord, we are being besieged the Turks are no more then several kilometers from here and have siege equipment already!"
Zirn was surprised at the level of excitement in his aides voice. " How is that possible already? We withdrew from them in the field months ago. How could they be here already and with equipment? Peter what is the standing of the fortress do we hold or sally out?"
Peter was quick with his response but nervous to the Count's reaction. "No we are not ready for a seige. I did not expect Qalawun to be here this quickly and with so many men. We are outnumbered."
"We will sally forth then, now or tonight? replied Zirn.
"In daylight!" quipped Ingo. " I know you are more experience with the night then our enemy but if we sally out at daybreak they will have little chance to properly set up"
The Count did not hesitate, " We go now, muster the men and meet at the west gate!!
The troops were awaken.
The besieging army.
The men were ready and at the gate as ordered. The trebuchets were ordered to stand down and two catupult units would be assigned the artillery duties. The crossbowman were assigned the walls as a reserve. The rest of the units sallied out.
"The right flank will be our objective!" shouted the Count to his captains. "I want to concentrate our force to the right." The only calvary other then the bodyguards of Zirn and Hummel were to stay to the left flank and cover for missle attacks.
The Turks came out with their missle units of peasants and javelins. The mailed knights charged to clear them out. The infantry units moved forward attacking the right flank the catapults provided cover.
The Counts crossbows were out of range and 2 regiments were brought off the wall and on to the field. The enemy was not pressing other then arrows and catapult fire, they did not advance.
The pressure continued on the right flank of the enemy. The Count took to his far right to support the troops. Sir Hummel moved his unit far left of the enemy. The pressure was getting intense and the enemy units were starting to falter. The Turkish General in attempt to rally his men charged out to the left flank to meet Hummel's unit.
The fight was short has the enemy general was cut down.
The tide turned and the battle was over.
Prisoner report
"We have the final number lord and your wishes?" said Ingo, though knew the answer and was somehow respecting his commander after each battle.
"Release them, let them fight another day if they wish. Let them go back and report their General was killed and that their enemy is strong on the battlefield but more importantly is honourable after the fight is over; has all men of God should be."
The prisoners released and the Count made his way to report to King Salier and preparing for the next attack.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Placeholder for Ansehelms latest battle ... if yer interested, the other write-ups are finished
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Battle of the Euphrates, 1256
“Siegfried who?” asked Elberhard dumbly.
“Von Kastilien” said the mercenary Captain.
“I didn’t know the Von Kastilien’s had a Siegfried.” muttered Elberhard, bemused.
“Well, he knows about you. He’s appointed you Prinz”. retorted the Captain.
“I’m liking him already.” said Elberhard.
There was a pause: “How’s Hans taking it?”
“Young Hummel has gone rogue over the issue. Your brother’s stance could best be described as quiet fury.”
“Ouch”. said Elberhard. He knew Hans was at his most dangerous when he was silent.
“He has the backing of the Duke of Swabia. It seems your being designated heir was an attempt to appease Swabia and undermine Hans’ opposition. It is a gambit that does not appear to be working.” the Captain informed Elberhard.
Elberhard smiled :“So I’m a @#$%^&!!!ing pawn in some political game? And here was me, thinking this Siegfried fellow was impressed by my rugged good looks and administrative brilliance.” Elberhard rubbed one of the many scars on his face and gazed with disinterest at the mass of papers littering his desk. “Why the @#$%^&!!! did Jobst choose this Siegfried? And are we sure this succession is genuine?”
“No one really knows why Siegfried was chosen. It may be because he was the noble least corrupted by Diet and factional politics. The young man does seem to be honest, he is supported by members of Jobst’s entourage and no one has questioned their integrity.”
“Certainly not me, that’s for sure.” said Elberhard. “Prinz @#$%^&!!ing Elberhard: I like the sound of that.”
His father, Henry, had refused to appoint Hans as his successor because of some superstitious belief in a family curse. Elberhard was not the kind of man to let such sentiment and irrationally bother him.
*****
“Did Salier buy it?” the mercenary Captain asked the Teuton conspiratorially.
“Lock, stock and barrel: simply told Elberhard to “take them down””.
“Was he high at the time?” queried the Captain.
The Teuton wrinkled his nose at the vulgarity. “Well, he might not have fully understood what Elberhard was proposing. Elberhard merely said he wanted to hunt down a left behind rearguard.”
“He did not mention that the rearguard was still marching in close contact with the Mongol leader’s main army?”
“He may not have emphasised that point. He did throw in a casual remark about bagging a Mongol leader as a sweetener for the deal. But I am not sure Salier appreciated what is involved.”
“What, that we will be attacking one and a half Mongol armies lead by a notorious conqueror with a reputation for brutally decisive victories?” the mercenary Captain paused. “@#$%^&!! - if Salier was not stoned, Elberhard sure as @#$%^&!! is.”
The Teuton cast the Captain a condescending look - clearly some of his Master’s vices were spilling over onto his retinue.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The battle of the Euphrates, Part II
Elberhard’s army caught the Mongol rearguard at night on the southside of the Euphrates, not far from Edessa. In the moonlight, Elberhard studied the terrain. The ground was largely flat and open, but with two hills on either side - both, unfortunately for Elberhard, controlled by the Mongols. The rearguard was deployed on the smaller, eastern hill. The larger army of the Mongol leader Khan Batu was entering the battlefield spread out along in a long line to the north. The larger western hill was overseen by only three regiments of the Khan’s horse archers.
“Our only chance is to turn this offensive battle into a defensive one.” Elberhard addressed his captains. “We take one of the hills - the western one is the largest and least well defended. Then we have a good position to use our pavise crossbowmen. We are well supplied with missiles but all our other arms are rather weak. We will try to duel the horse lords at range with our crossbows, support them with our armoured sergeants. We will keep the knights to the rear - only they have the morale and prowess to defeat the horse lords when it comes to melee. We cannot allow them to be worn down by missile fire or caught on the wrong foot by lancers.”
“You want to enter an archery contest with the Mongols?” the Mercenary Captain asked, incredulously.
Elberhard winced: “Look, Kachig, no one said this was going to be @#$%^&!!!ing easy.”
Kachig Iskyan, the Mercenary Captain, muttered something under his breath about Elberhard’s disingenuous approach to King Salier for authorisation for the attack, but Elberhard chose not to hear his remarks.
“Our pavise crossbowmen have powerful, long ranged bows.” Elberhard said exasperated. “They are protected by chain hauberks and hide behind @#$%^&!!!ing enormous shields. By contrast, the horse lords sit wearing furs on top of their mounts making @#$%^&!!!ing great targets and pluck away with silly little bows made of bone and horn. We can take them!”
The mercenary Captain rolled his eyes at his general’s ignorance, real or feigned.
“Captain, I know your Armenians do not have the same advantages as my pavise crossbows but they are valuable all the same. I want them to use fire arrows. They may put a dent in the ferocity of these devils. And anyway, this is going to be a long drawn out affair - we can afford to reduce our rate of fire.”
Elberhard turned his attention to his German captains:
“We will deploy in loose order: everyone, even the mounted knights. The horse lords will not close to melee unless we force the issue. Moreover, I want us to adopt a narrow formation. We will march three regiments abreast for the western hill. A more extended formation will risk the Mongols bringing the battle to us in the valley. I want two regiments of pavise crossbowmen assigned to guard the eastern flank.”
Elberhard smiled with self-satisfaction: “I am calling my battle order a loose order phalanx - it might just be a first in military history.”
Kachig spoke up one last time: “The horse lords do not just have archers, my Prinz. Khan Batu rides with five regiments of heavy lancers plus his own formidable escort of veterans. If they charge your “loose order phalanx”, they will rip through it.”
Elberhard fixed the shrewd Armenian with a sharp glance: “Well, we’ll just have to hope they don’t do that then, won’t we?”
*****
As Elberhard’s army approached the brow of the western hill, the Prinz belatedly noticed a large body of Mongols approaching his eastern flank at speed.
“Deploy archers and cavalry to protect the flank!” Elberhard ordered. “But keep the main body moving north - we must secure the hill”
The enemy approached with startling speed. While the flanking unit of Teutons was retiring from behind a screen of pavisiers, it suffered six casualties to the deadly fire of the Mongol horse archers. There then developed an indecisive exchange of fire between the horse archers and the pavisiers. Neither had much of an advantage, although on occasion the Mongols would form Cantabrian circles, almost impervious to missile fire. Elberhard countered by using his knights to charge the circles - not with any realistic hope of catching the fleet hooved horse archers, but merely to force them to adopt a formation that was easier for his crossbows to target.
This exchange continued for a while, but soon Elberhard could make out a larger body of Mongols approach, including infantry and war engines. Elberhard would later realise that this must have been the bulk of the Mongol rearguard, but why the Khan had sent this smaller body ahead and stayed behind with his much larger army, Elberhard would never understand. Nontheless, this was the opening Elberhard had been hoping for. For all his bravado, the Germans could get no decisive advantage out of a missile duel with the Mongols. Nor could they hope to catch the Mongol horse archers. However, Mongol infantry and war engines were something that Teutonic chivalry could handle.
Elberhard sat straight, tense in his saddle, barking out orders.
“Teutons, both regiments, charge the two flanks. My escort will take the center. For God and for the Reich, CHARGE!”
Although there could be little doubt as to the outcome of the uneven contest, the Mongol foot fought bravely against the mounted German knights. The two sides seemed locked in melee for several minutes and it was with surprise that Elberhard finally could see the way suddenly open. He looked around. Where had the Mongols gone? A few lone figures were scampering away down the hill, but most of the enemy lay beneath the German horses. They had died almost to a man. His gaze turned to the Mongol war machines. Having learned of the demise of the Kaiser to such beasts, Elberhard was determined that they would not be allowed to add their demoralising firepower to that of the massed Mongol archers. Deprived of infantry and cavalry support, Elberhard imagined that the machines would be easy meat for his knights. Incredulously, he saw the crew of one of a Mongol rocket charging, swords razed towards the Teutons. Elberhard shook his head in amazement.
But this brief victory was far from decisive. A mass of Mongol horse archers still remained close by, now focusing their fire on the exposed German mounted knights rather than the well protected pavisiers.
“Pull back! Pull back, God damn it!” Elberhard screamed at his cavalry.
The battle now returned to a long missile duel between pavisier and horse archer.
Again, the Mongols occasionally formed Cantabrian circles to try to disrupt the aim of the German crossbowmen. Again, Elberhard used cavalry charges to break up such formations. Soon the score of Feudal knights were all lost to such manoeuvres, so Elberhard increasingly relied on his own escort - better armoured and more skilled than any others of his army. They did their job, allowing the pavisiers to do terrible damage to the Mongol horse archers, but were left exhausted and depleted by their repeated charges.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the pavisiers secured the upper hand in the missile exchanges.
As the enemy horse archers slowly melted away, Elberhard could take some satisfaction in the progress of the battle. His men were now well positioned on the western hill. The enemy rearguard army had been crushed, its war machines silenced and the horse archers, the mainstay of the Mongol armies, bested. However, his scouts reported the foot and heavy cavalry of the Khan’s army waiting, patient and well rested, on the reverse of the eastern hill now facing Elberhard’s own position. Elberhard could not help feeling he had only done the easy part.
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Battle of the Euphrates, Part III
Having disposed of the Mongol rearguard and horse archers, the German pavise crossbowmen were now exhausted and down to around two thirds of their strength. Elberhard struggled to array his loose order formations on the western hill. While he could time the charge of an individual regiment well, his skill at ordering large scale manoeuvres of many regiments was very limited. Under his command, an army moved in stops and starts, with frequent disruption and breaks in formation or exposed facing. Under the moonlight, Khan Batu must have spotted some weakness in Germans clumsy attempts to consolidate their position on the hill. Elberhard barely had time to notice the enemy advance before the Mongols were right in front of his lines.
“Push forward the regiments of armoured sergeants to protect the pavisiers!” Elberhard barely had time to prepare.
“My lord, the spearmen are still in loose formation!” cried Kachig Iskyan, Elberhard’s mercenary Captain.
Elberhard stood still, like a toad caught in the gaze of an approaching snake. In truth, there was little he could do. He had only three regiments of armoured spearmen against five regiments of heavy lancers. In loose order, they could cover his front - in close order, the enemy cavalry would exploit the holes in his lines, tear into his archers and rip apart the sergeants from the flanks. Besides, the enemy were too close. The spearmen were hunkered down, facing the enemy, braced for impact. To attempt to reform the line under the nose of the massed Mongol heavy cavalry would be suicide. The spearmen would buy him time - if they stalled the Mongols, the German knights, on foot and mounted, would be able to assist and perhaps turn the tide.
Elberhard did not watch the terrible impact, as five regiments of Mongol heavy cavalry smashed into his three regiments of sergeants in loose order. Instead, he screamed orders.
“Cavalry - ride! Go for the flanks or rear, if you can.
Foot knights - forward! The sergeants cannot hold for long.
All archers - aim for the Khan, bring him down!”
Jan Lowenthal, the Teuton who normally accompanied Elberhard, had joined the northern most regiment of order knights. Taking his cue from the Prinz, he led his men at speed, right behind the line of Mongol heavy cavalry, which was now locked in combat with the German foot. Lances down, the Teutons slammed into the rear of one regiment of Mongol heavy lancers.
But the Teutons nemesis was fast approaching. The Mongol Khan and his escort had remained in reserve, but Jan’s audacious charge was too much of a provocation. While Elberhard screamed at his archers to fire at the Khan’s escort, it remorsely manoeuvred to the rear of the Teutons and performed a devastating charge that exactly mirrored what the Teutons themselves had performed only minutes before. Jan fell unconscious in the melee, but few of the other Order knights were so lucky. Soon both regiments of Teutons had been eliminated in hard fighting against the Mongol heavy lancers.
Slowly, inexorably, the sheer weight and prowess of the Mongol heavy cavalry started to tell. German regiments of foot began to break - first, the town militia, then the sergeants, then the foot knights. What had hitherto been a promising German success was now turning in favour of the Mongols.
Elberhard looked around in desperation. Defeat now seemed inevitable - he simply lacked the numbers to defeat the Mongols. Only one chance remained - to kill the Khan. The Prinz fixed on the enemy leader, his escort sorely depleted from the concentrated fire of seven regiments of Gerrman missiles.
“With me! With me!” he called out to his last remaining mounted regiment - a unit of mailed knights - as he spurred his horse towards the enemy faction leader.
After destroying Jan’s Teutons, the Khan had shifted to the opposite flank of the line - to where a regiment of dismounted Imperial knights still remained in strength, now locked in combat with the Mongol foot. As the heavy lancers were wilted down, more and more regiments of Mongol infantry and even Mongol foot archers entered melee. On the German side, most regiments of crossbowmen had been frittered away to below half strength - decimated either by Mongol lancers who had broken into the rear or shot down by the Mongol foot. The Khan fought ferociously, but gradually was left alone, hacking amidst the infantry.
“Take him down! Take him down!” Elberhard screamed, spurring his horse through the infantry battle, trying to reach the Khan.
The mailed knights reached the Khan first, but were no match for his skill and valour. As German casualties mounted, Elberhard shouted for the mailed knights to make way for the veterans of his escort:
“Fall back - get out of there! He’s mine!”
But the Prinz then watched with horror, as the Khan spurred his fine charger in pursuit of the retiring mailed knights, cutting them down with merciless skill.
In frustration, Elberhard was forced to rescind his order for the mailed knights to withdraw: “Stand and fight - he is only one man!”
Although Elberhard expected the death of their khan, their faction leader, would cause a rout in the enemy ranks, he was to be sorely disappointed. The Mongol cavalry were now all dead or wounded. But seven regiments of Mongol foot remained steady. For the Germans, Elbehard could count only a score of mounted knights, a strong regiment of dismounted Imperial knights and two bands of unhorsed crusader knights. Desperately, the Prinz led his surviving cavalry in charging the flank of the Mongol infantry locked in combat with the dismounted Imperial knights. He hoped the shock of such an assault, in the wake of the Khan’s death, might unhinge the Mongol army.
But it was not to be. The Mongol foot were too determined and the German cavalry too few. The final struggle took place around the deserted war engines of the now destroyed Mongol rearguard. There, the last viable German regiment - a group of dismounted Imperial knights - fought a losing battle against the Mongol infantry.
Of Elberhard’s escort, only his mercenary captain, Kachig Iskyan remained. He grabbed the reigns of Elberhard’s horse.
“Sire, you must withdraw! You are the Prinz now. With Kaiser Jobst recently defeated and the succession in question, the Reich cannot afford to lose you. There is more at stake here than your honour.”
Elberhard looked at the Armenian with empty eyes. Although dauntless, he could see that staying would achieve no more than the Khan had achieved through his own ferocious bravery. Were Elberhard to fall, and lose the battle, any glory from slaying the Mongol faction leader would be gone. If the battle must be lost, there was no reason to compound the defeat by sacrificing his own life.
Elberhard looked at the half dozen mailed knights still remaining, fighting hopelessly against the massed Mongol infantry. Around 400 enemy foot remained.
“Cavalry! Fall back! Withdraw!” he shouted.
“What about the archers?” said Kachig, with concern.
“@#$%^&!!! them. They are paid to fight and kill. They stay and fight to the last man.”
Elberhard closed his eyes to the pleading stare of his captain. Tears welled up and the Prinz tried to steady his cracking voice:
“This battle was never about my lust for battle, my quest for honour or glory, Captain. It was about butchery. Outremer is our land. Thanks to Salier and the Chancellor, we have many castles and cities, pouring out regiment after regiment. The Mongols have none. We can afford to bleed. It is the only way. Salier knows it, the Chancellor knows it. I did not hoodwink them to take this battle - they know the stakes and how to win.”
Kachig nodded, but inwardly despaired - what had he led his poor Armenian lads into? This total war of the Prinz was not the way of the mercenary.
Reluctantly, the two riders turned their backs on the battle and began to canter away from the battle - all the while, the arrows of the Mongol foot archers clattering around them, striking down two of the remaining mailed knights. Elberhard cast a look behind him. The dismounted Imperial knights, his last remaining formation, were routing. Down to one third strength, they had abandoned the captured enemy war machines. All that remained, standing were a few pockets of pavise crossbowmen and Armenian archers, bravely obeying their orders to keep firing and fight to the death.
Once Elberhard had retired beyond archery range of the Mongols, he turned back to observe the dying embers of the battle. Incredibly, the dismounted Imperial knights had rallied. Elberhard watched, his heart bursting with hope and admiration as the stalwart warriors repulsed first one, then another charge by the Mongol infantry. It was happening - at last, it was happening. The Mongols were wavering. Their charges were piecemeal, their men wavering before they had even made contact. The death of the Khan, the terrible losses of the battle, exhaustion and the continual fire of arbalest bolts and flaming arrows were all taking their toll on the enemy.
Elberhard spurred back to the hill. “Concentrate fire on the enemy around the war machines!” he called to his remaining archers. “Support the knights!”
One group of pavise crossbowmen had exhausted their ammunition.
“Draw swords - join the knights!” Elberhard instructed them, and then he rode down in advance of their approach. Only a score foot knights remained, but these were well armoured men who had devoted their life to combat. Hope remained.
When he reached the dismounted Imperial knights, Elberhard called out to them and the three mounted mailed knights who remained:
“@#$%^&!!! this @#$%^&!!!.” he roared. “This @#$%^&!!! ends now. Take them down, lads!”
The exhausted German knights did not cheer, but merely snarled in agreement and advanced on the wavering Mongol infantry.
The enemy did not stand, but scattered
After the battle, there were precious few enemy prisoners - as Elberhard dourly remarked, arrows take no prisoners. As almost all those taken were infantry, the Prinz had little compunction about offering them for ransom - it was not their infantry that had earned the horse lords their reputation as supreme warriors. Sadly, the new Mongol faction leader had similarly little compunction about declining the ransom - he could see no merit in being reminded of the men who had earned disgrace by failing to protect his predecessor.
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Outside Aleppo, 1260
The Horse Lords had swung south. After battling Fredricus von Hamburg and Prinz Elberhard with little to show for it, two large armies of theirs remained. They had two options: Push west and head for Antioch with a showdown with Conrad Salier at the crossing near the city, or swing south and threaten Aleppo along with Prinz Elberhard. Returning east was never a choice.
Eventually, they chose the option that allowed them to get revenge on the man who mauled an army and a half of theirs earlier on: Prinz Elberhard. However, there was just one problem: They never got to the Prinz. Conrad Salier had marched his force east and was about to engage the Army of the Khan with the Prinz’s men in support. The Khanzada, Orda, and his significant army were too far away to assist. Finally, the Reich was about to go into battle with a numerical advantage.
Conrad Salier absentmindedly fiddled with the armor around his right leg. The leg had suffered a deep cut some years ago during an attempt on Conrad’s life, and had not been right ever since. Some days, the pain was almost nonexistent, only a minor twinge. Today, however, was not one of those days. He would most likely have to adjust the armor many times today, should he be fortunate enough not to be needed personally.
He looked up, and then blinked in surprise. The weather, previously being only cloudy, had turned to rain.
“Rain in the desert?” He turned to the closest man in his escort. “What do you suppose this means?”
“I don’t know,” the man laughed. “You’re the religious nut around here.”
At initial glance, the rain appeared to be a good omen. The Horse Lords were, of course, outnumbered and they seemed to be caught unaware of this fact. They were in a valley in a position that was extremely vulnerable to flanking. If they didn’t adjust, Elberhard would come in from the west and smash them all.
“They’ll adjust,” Conrad said, “but let’s not give them much time to. All units advance! Crossbows, you know what to do when you get in range! Don’t use fire arrows, they won’t be of any use in this rain!”
The men advanced, following the King of Outremer’s orders to the letter. The majority were disciplined, professional troops that knew exactly what they were doing. The ones that weren’t were smart enough to follow the lead of the professionals.
As predicted, the Khan had sorted his army out before Conrad could get his men into a melee. The crossbowmen got a few volleys in before the Mongol archers started firing back, but neither were to little effect. The Horse Lords had very rarely met rain along their long marches, and the Imperial crossbows, while standard throughout the Empire, didn’t fare much better.
“We pin them in place here, boys! Pin them, hold them, kill them, and Elberhard will sweep them from the field when he gets up! You-“ Conrad ducked to avoid an incoming arrow- “You know who to kill first!”
The previous night, while Conrad had gone over reports of past battles with the Horse Lords, he had come up with a strategy. The one thing that they all seemed to have in common was that the Imperial generals had not touched the heavy Mongol cavalry until the very end of the battle, providing for some messy finishes. If we take those Lancers out early, Conrad thought, then they won’t have any striking power later on. With that strategy in mind, Conrad informed his officers of the plan of action. The message worked its way down to the regular soldiers, as the Imperial advance ignored the missile cavalry and infantry.
The Heavy Lancers took the bait and charged, thus beginning the first part of the melee. German knights, both mounted and dismounted, rushed forward to do battle with their target.
The fight quickly became vicious. The Heavy Lancers were used to coming in only at the end of the battle, when the enemy was tired out and numerically weak. Here, in the pouring desert rain, they were facing a fresh foe, and their strain was clearly showing.
Despite that, however, they were still making a terrific effort of driving off the Imperial forces. Conrad found himself ordering more and more regiments forward in an attempt to destroy the Lancers. Meanwhile, the Khan began to order his lighter cavalry into the fray, further burdening the Germans.
The field quickly began to become wet from the rain and the blood. Men slipped and were, as a result, trampled. Most of Conrad’s army was now committed to the current fight. The Lancers were finally diminished, most just dying in the battle. The Imperials had no rest, however, as there were always more men to take the place of the Heavy Lancers. Conrad began to search the field for the Khan’s bodyguard, aiming to kill him and demoralize the army. But the Khan was not stationary. He was moving from one side of the field to the other, charging the enemy and then quickly withdrawing, only to charge further along the line.
“Pin the Khan!” Conrad screamed. “If he charges you, keep him there! I will flank him and kill him!” Conrad started riding around desperately, marking his opposite’s position. With the Lancers out of the picture his men were killing more, but there were so many Horse Lords and the Khan wasn’t taking the bait…
“There they are, men! C’mon, let’s kick the @#$%^&!!!ers in the @#$%^&!!! and drink in the rain! CHARGE!!!”
Even in the din of battle, Conrad could still clearly make out Elberhard’s colorful orders. He breathed a sign of relief. Things were about to get a lot easier.
Elberhard’s men quickly spread out, plugged gaps in the Imperial line, and began to engage the Horse Lords on two sides. Taking the initiative, Conrad ordered his escort to charge the Khan, who was about to be wrapped up in an engagement. He arrived slightly before the reinforcements did, and accordingly felt the full fury of the Khan’s personal escort.
Some of his men had fought in Italy, Jerusalem, and Antioch, but nothing prepared them for this. Conrad watched as his men went down, taking only a handful of Horse Lords with them. He parried a blow aimed for him, adjusted the armor on his leg, and then roared in fury, trying to even the odds.
After what seemed like an eternity, the pressure on them was eased. Elberhard’s men had personally joined the duel between commanders. Having the numerical advantage, his men turned on the Khan’s and began killing them in earnest. Elberhard pulled Conrad aside.
“Right boss, good job here with this part of the battle. You made ‘em bleed, by @#$%^&!!!, and that’s the toughest part of the whole @#$%^&!!! I guess you haven’t been following recent developments?”
Conrad shook his head ‘no.’
“I figured that,” Elberhard said. “Trying to kill the Khan and all. Well anyway, we’ve bagged most of ‘em. There’s one decent side of resistance we still have to deal with, and that’s a @#$%^&!!!load of light cavalry on your left flank.”
“Do we have anybody on it right now?”
This time Elberhard shook his head. “I brought this Franconian fellow along, Dieter Bresch, to try to get him knighted but the old @#$%^&!!! is taking them all on himself! Can you believe the @#$%^&!!!s of that guy? I figure if he doesn’t get help soon he’s gonna get gutted. Mind ordering some of your boys to help him out? We’ll finish up over here.”
Conrad nodded and motioned to his men. Eager to get out of the mess with the Khan, they turned and rode to the left, yelling at unoccupied Imperials along the way. When they arrived at the point of engagement, some men groaned. Dieter Bresch had gotten himself into a tricky spot indeed.
“Come on men, he needs our help NOW! Charge!!!”
Conrad’s men slammed into the Horse Lords’ flank but in their diminished state, accomplished little. The Mongol cavalry simply absorbed the blow and engulfed Conrad’s escort along with Dieter’s.
Both escorts fought desperately not to drown in the sea of Horse Lords. Killing came easier than it did with the Khan’s men, but there was the eternal problem of there always being more men to attack. Conrad looked up in the rain and silently began to pray, continuing to strike down his enemies, but weakening quickly.
“Teutons coming now, sir!”
Conrad looked around wildly. A group of Teutonic Knights and other Imperial cavalry were thundering to the melee. His prayers were answered. For the second time the pressure was eased off of his men.
Captain Rolf, leader of the Teutonic Knights, approached Conrad. “My King, it’s time you got out of this,” he said. “Do not further endanger yourself.” Conrad looked around at what remained of his escort. Seeing the condition they were in, he complied and extricated himself from the battle. Looking around, he saw that Dieter and his men had done the same.
After taking a minute to catch his breath, Conrad looked to see how things were going on the right. He didn’t look long to hear a great cheer coming from that direction. He supposed that Elberhard had completed his mission.
As the fight dragged on, he saw a force carrying Elberhard’s colors coming in his direction. Eventually the Prinz’s escort came to the edge of the fighting, but did not enter it. Instead, Elberhard held up a decapitated head on his sword.
“Hey, you @#$%^&!!!s! Here’s what’s become of your Khan!”
The rout was instantaneous. The Prinz rode up to the King, grinning.
“Well, that certainly helped,” Conrad said.
“Figured it might. C’mon boss, let’s go hunt down these routers.” He spurned his horse in the opposite direction, and Conrad did the same, officially finishing the battle that rainy day.
That night, as Conrad was flexing his bad leg, a man handed him a piece of parchment containing the official casualty reports.
Not too shabby, he thought. One more army to go. One to go.
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The battle of Hamburg, 1260
The Kaiser’s tutor placed the three tankards of ale on the tavern table. The portly merchant grabbed his tankard eagerly and drank it greedily. The knight was more leisurely, savouring his drink like it was his last on earth.
“Well, thank you again, gentlemen, for agreeing to meet with me. As the Kaiser’s tutor, my place is not on the battlefield but I am most anxious to hear your reports of our liege’s great victory.
The tutor raised his tankard and the knight met it with the assured movement of one who has seen many toasts to Kaiser and to victory. The merchant looked surprised for a moment and then hurriedly raised his own drink, spilling some in the process.
“So, gentlemen, let me begin by establishing precisely where in the line you were positioned when the battle began?”
“Kaiser’s escort, extreme right flank.” muttered the knight.
“The extreme right flank?” queried the tutor. “That is rather an unorthodox place to establish a command post, is it not? How could the Kaiser expect to control the army from that position?”
“The Imperial army is a professional outfit. Its general staff can maintain command and communication with ease.” growled the knight.
“Are you saying that Siegfried was not personally in command of the battle?” pressed the tutor.
“I am saying no such thing.” snapped the knight. “The victory is his and his alone.”
“So if the Kaiser was on the right flank, who commanded the reserve cavalry?” the tutor inquired.
The merchant jumped into the conversation eagerly: “That was us! I mean, the Hamburg militia cavalry. We were given the honour of being the last reserve of the Reich!”
The knight shook his head, muttering: ”Told to keep out of it and avoid hurting themselves, more like.”
The merchant heard the caustic aside and bridled: “Nonsense! We were the first in action!”
The tutor looked surprised and turned inquiringly to the knight.
“It is true.” admitted the knight. “The thing was, we were at a stand-off. The Danes had deployed in a solid formation, fronted by crossbows and backed by many siege engines. We could have attacked frontally, and with them lacking cavalry, the end would not be in doubt. But there would have been considerable losses.”
“Oh yes!” said the merchant, gravely. “No doubt the Kaiser was thinking of his last encounter with the Danes, when an enemy siege engine sent poor Kaiser Jobst to a fiery death.”
“So the Kaiser ordered the left to attempt a flanking manoeuvre.” interjected the knight.
“I see” said the tutor. “Like the opening in a chess game, the Kaiser had to make a move to break the stalemate. Not to win the game outright by one stroke, but to force the opponent to move and make a mistake.”
“Aye” said the knight, looking at the tutor with new found appreciation. “And make a mistake the Danes did. They responded by a frontal advance with their crossbowmen. But it was bizarre. They formed up and halted just out of range of their bows, while our pavisse crossbowmen - with their more powerful bows - could pick them off at ease.”
“But how was the Danish advance a response to our flanking manoeuvre?” queried the tutor.
“Well, they did send one regiment of crossbowmen to try to shoot up the flanking column” answered the merchant excitedly. “And that is where we came in! We were ordered to run down that regiment!”
The merchant sat back, proudly: “I have never felt so alive as when I was in that charge today!”
“Or close to death, I’ll wager?” commented the tutor.
The merchant did not seriously dissent. “Well, to be honest, that fear came somewhat later. You see, by the time we had caught most of the crossbowmen, we were almost in the enemy main battle line. I thought we would pull out, return to our position as central reserve. But we were ordered to continue on - to charge the enemy siege engines!”
“Pulling out would have been more dangerous.” observed the knight. “Few peasant crossbowmen would feel any compunction about shooting retreating cavalry in the back. Charging deeper in was the safest course of action.”
The merchant was staring into his ale, as if reliving some trauma. He nodded: “Yes, yes. I am sure you are right. But it was terrible. You could hear a hiss of air as you hacked into the Danish artillerymen. The enemy fought bravely, but it was butcher’s work.”
“So, how did the enemy react?” said the tutor. “Did their battle line turn and try to destroy our cavalry that was causing havoc in their rear?”
The knight shook his head: “The fools reacted by advancing upon us.”
“What?!” said the tutor. “They are flanked, under fire from our superior archery and our cavalry is raising havoc in their rear… and they march forward to attack us in the centre?!”
“Aye, they may have been lacking in a grasp of basic tactics, but you can’t fault them for bravery.” sighed the knight.
“So, the outcome was never in doubt?” asked the tutor.
“No” said the knight. “There was a tense moment, on the right, when a regiment of dismounted Danish foot knights set about some of our sergeants. But we, the Kaiser’s escort, managed to get back to support the line just in time. Even their knights had had enough - the enemy routed as soon as we were among them.”
“And what about the sword staff militia? How did they perform in the battle?” queried the tutor.
The merchant spoke up: “Ah yes, those fellows - most imposing in their plate armour and those formidable looking polearms! But they manoeuvred so slowly ...”
”Militia.” the knight muttered under his breath.
“There was a lull in my regiment’s action and I saw the whole thing. Teutons managed to catch them in the flank. When they broke, the battle was over…” the merchant looked pale. “Well, apart from the hacking and screaming and all.”
“And finally, what happened to the enemy prisoners?” asked the tutor.
“Ransomed.” said the knight. “The Kaiser was preoccupied with matters in the Diet. He let the general staff deal with the prisoners. They did not want to give the Kaiser an unwanted reputation for chivalry or dread, so they took the safe option of ransoming the prisoners.”
“Yes, yes!” jumped in the merchant. “We received 3425 florins in ransom - not bad for one day’s work, what?!”
“But you may well have to face those 700 men you let go again in battle.” suggested the tutor.
The knight shrugged, dismissively. “After today’s performance, that holds no fear. Let them come.”
The merchant looked less confident, but nodded in agreement and looked at the tutor. “Another ale, perhaps?”
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
A battle near Edessa, 1262
“I swear I’ve been here before.” muttered Elberhard. The terrain for his second battle against a Mongol Khan was remarkably like that for his first - a relatively flat valley, with gentle slopes east and west.
“What did you say, my Lord?” inquired the sharp eared Armenian mercenary Captain, Kachig Iskyan.
“I said, I’ve @#$%^&!!!ing been here before!” said Elberhard emphatically.
The Armenian nodded: “It is not far from the last battle you commanded. But this time, we have the advantage of numbers and not them.”
“Well, different day, same @#$%^&!!!. We will fight this battle exactly as the last. We will make for the higher terrain to our east. Army deployment will be the same. All regiments in loose order, no exceptions. Compact front. Crossbows, spears, foot knights and horse - in that order. Reserve two regiments of pavise crossbowmen to cover the flanks. Tell the crossbowmen they must not skirmish - any man falls back, they’ll wish they had a @#$%^&!!!ing Mongol arrow in their back after I’m through with them.”
The Armenian Captain saluted and went to pass on the Prinz’s orders. Even though Elberhard’s army no longer included any Armenian archers, he was glad to have Kachig in his retinue - the man’s professionalism and equanimity was welcome in an army full of hot-headed nobles and crusaders.
*****
Kachig rode ahead, at the front of the army as it approached the eastern hill. Unlike the battle of the Euphrates, the Mongols were not prepared to surrender the heights without a fight. First, horse archers and then Mongol infantry and even the Khan moved quickly to deny the Germans possession of the high ground.
“Crossbowmen, fire when in range! The rest of you, keep moving - we must take the heights!” ordered Kachig.
Elberhard scanned the brow of the hill. At least half the Mongol army had got their before him.
“Do we charge, Sire?” asked Jan Lowenthal, a young Teuton in Elberhard’s retinue.
It was tempting. The Mongol Khan was waiting, along with four regiments of infantry. A massed cavalry charge would be decisive. But it would also be extremely costly.
“Not yet.” said Elberhard. “Many of our knights are dismounted - they should make short work of the Mongol infantry. Get the men in position, including the cavalry. Form them up and switch to close order.”
Jan looked deflated, but moved swiftly to pass on the Kaiser’s orders.
Slowly, the heavily armoured food knights ordered themselves and advanced on the Mongols. However, the faster moving enemy were elusive and the German infantry could not catch them.
“@#$%^&!!! this!” cursed Elberhard. Armoured knights chasing Mongols in the desert was a fools’ game and, colourful language aside, Elberhard was no fool. He looked at Jan. “Order all the horse - we charge!”
The fighting was confused and brutal. The Mongols fought bitterly - although on paper vastly outclassed by the sheer weight of the German cavalry, they inflicted a heavy toll on the enemy. By the end of the melee, half of the Imperial horse lay dead or wounded on the field.
From lower down the eastern heights, Kachig watched the central melee. His keen eyes could make out the powerful escort of Khan Orda extract itself. “Target the heavy cavalry - there, moving to the rear!” he shouted at the nearby crossbowmen. Then Kachig rode ahead to the armoured spearmen who had been screening the German eastern flank. “Forward! See that banner flying there? That is their Khan! I will pay the man who slays the Khan half my share of the loot!”
The spearmen puffed up the hill and engaged the Khan's escort, but they could make little impression on the armoured horses and heavy mail of the Mongol elite cavalry.
In the central melee, Elberhard paused and quickly saw the isolated contest between the spearmen and the Mongol bodyguard.
“With me! Ride, with me!” he called out to his escort and raced off to join the uneven struggle between the Horse Lords' best and his faltering sergeants.
However, Khan Orda had little wish to duel the Prinz and quickly disengaged his retinue from the melee. Elberhard could only curse helplessly as the Mongol leader adroitly withdrew from the battle.
Once Elberhard had recovered from the frustration of the Khan’s escape, he turned to review the rest of the battle and realised that what was left of the Mongol army was also withdrawing. While the German cavalry had taken the heights and utterly destroyed the Mongols holding them, a good third of the enemy army had never made it to the eastern hill and was instead to the west, withdrawing north.
Elberhard cursed again - the bulk of his cavalry could not catch the retiring Mongols. Only Jan’s Teutons had made it west across the battlefield in their impetuous pursuit and they were too few, and too tired, to stop the Mongol withdrawal.
Soon all that remained of the enemy army on the field were their four batteries of artillery - rocket launchers and trebuchets. They were soon hunted down by the frustrated German cavalry.
Elberhard threw down his helmet in frustration, looking at the dust cloud thrown up by the Mongol withdrawal. “Where are they heading?” he asked Kachig.
“They are turning, west - back towards Aleppo.”
“Right. Better tell the boss, he’s got company. The King's army at Aleppo is little more than a garrison, but perhaps he can bag the Khan.”
“What about us?” said Jan.
“We don’t have the supplies to march back to Aleppo now. We must resupply and await orders from the Chancellor. But send word to Count Fredericus in Edessa. The Chancellor has ordered him to hunt down another Mongol force. Tell him we are nearby and happy to assist. This business is not finished yet.”
Jan nodded and moved off. Kachig also left the Prinz's retinue, looking for the prisoners. After such a battle, the prisoners should be worth a fair few coin in ransom, he thought happily. He walked past one band - around a score of dishevelled, poorly dressed men roped together.
“Where are the rest of the prisoners?” Kachig demanded of the guards.
“This is it.” said the captain of the guard flatly. Kachig’s eyes widened - a battle of thousands and a mere twenty men taken? Kachig looked again at the shabby captives around him. Mainly artillerymen, he judged, but their eyes burdened with defiance. If only he could recruit men of this ferocity and skill, he could make a fortune! But such men were like wild animals - they could not be bought.
“What shall we do with them sir?”
Kachig waved his hand dismissively. “Get rid of them. Few of the Mongols can handle artillery. I don't want these fellows training more to fire their war machines at us. But don’t tell the Prinz. He has his reputation to think of.”
Grimly, the captain of the guard drew his sword.
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Crusade for Jerusalem 1264
It was early morning and the sun was breaking over the hills. The heat was very noticeable at this time. The commanders were meeting for a final time before the assault. Count Zirn was in charge of the Crusading force yet he knew he had more experienced commanders yet younger men with him Matthias Steffen and Jan von Hamburg.
Zirn spoke broke the silence of the three has they reviewed the map.
"Gentleman, the force is very weak inside the city, some archers. There is another Egyptian Force not far from here and we also have Hans the Mighty with his force within close vicinity. I will not use Hans in the main assault. We do not have any siege equipment but the defences are so weak that rams should be able to do the job." Zirn looked at the other two for a response then continued. " I hate sieges!" The Count thinking back to his father in law Duke Leoplod's infamous words. He remembered Iconium and the motives to it's capture with the high casualties but this is Jerusalem and a very worthy and noble goal.
"There is damage to the wall bit not enough to breach. I will take the south wall I want you two to take the east. I will have the majority of the army but I want your breach to be quick in and for the centre square. The Egyptian reinforcements will be coming from the north but Hans is in the NE and may be able to cut them off. Any questions?"
Both men looked at each other and to the Count and shook their heads no. They had been coordinating this plan for the past few days and wanted to take advantage of the low defences before reinforcements arrived.
"Very well, lets get to Mass and continue with the work that is before us" said the Count as he let the way out of the tent.
********
The sun was up but it ws not quite noon and the heat was unbearable. The orders were given and the forces split.
East Force
The attack commenced and the rams hit simutanously on the gates. The Egyptians concentrated some archers on the east wall.
The reinforcements arrived and were able to reach the north gate before the German reinforcements let by Hans.
A regiment of Marmaluke Archers came at the east froce but were quickly driven off and beaten down by the mail knights. The first commander falls,
The gates are breached and it is a race to the centre. Matthias leads the calvary down the narrow streets and meets some of the reinforcements that have arrived in the city. The second commander falls,
The Egyptian catapults set up in the center but are to late to be effective.
The forces clash and are quickly beaten.
Just as it started it was over. The rest of the Egyptian Force north of the city was heavy siege equipment and not a part of the battle.
The results:
Clear Victory!
Matthais earns his spurs. In order of BG's, Matthias, Jan and Karl.
When the celebrating was done the prisoner list was presented to the count.
Zirn looked at the list and then said " Free them they can live and try to fight another day or return to their homes and tell tales of the great victory that has taken place today for God and the Reich!"
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Two Battles South of Jerusalem, 1264
Chancellor Matthias Steffen stood on the southern wall of Jerusalem, his gaze followed the road that left the city and rose into the mountains and then on to Gaza. Three Egyptian Armies were out there, a force of Mamluk Cavalry, archers and lancers, on the road, and two armies of mostly siege equipment in the mountains. It would be unwise to leave them there, no use giving the city back to the Papal States just to have it fall again.
A fit of coughing took Matthias then, he had assumed when coming to Outremer that the dry desert air would ease his illness, but the dust and heat only made it worse. The problem with clearing those forces, was that combined they could pose a challenge and Matthias did not wish to be bombarded from a hill top while Mamluks harried his flanks. Besides, as Matthias had learned to his regret upon becoming Chancellor, recruiting and rearming troops was horribly expensive. With so many military commitments, the Reich would need to learn to use skill and guile to beat their enemies and not just overwhelm them with numbers. Though to be fair, sometimes numbers and skill were needed.
So, the Egyptians needed to be cleared from the area, his forces need to be conserved and Jerusalem left secure. Matthias, absentmindedly twisting the Seal of Solomon around his right ring finger, pondered this, thinking back to his studies. He remembered a detail from the biography of Duke Leopold. Beneath the flowery language of the tome it made clear how the Duke, a master night fighter, used darkness as cover to split his foes and gain local superiority. This was never more evident than at Damascus when the Duke had pulled off a victory against three Mongol Armies. Elsebeth had also told him how Duke von Kassel had preferred fighting at night in Outremer. Once the troops were used to it, it gave a tactical advantage over the enemy and avoided the daytime heat of the region.
Matthias, though a newcomer to command, had prepared for it all his life. The only battle he had lead, against the rebels south of Florence, had been at night, and between that and the examples of his predecessors, the young Chancellor was confident he could pull it off. The Mamluks, being the strongest force, would be isolated and destroyed first.
The deployment of Matthias's men was kept simple to prevent confusion in the darkness. Jan and Karl commanded the cavalry on each flank and the bowmen were behind the infantry line.
The Mamluks, as Matthias hoped, rode towards him, the archers to skirmish and the lancers to charge. The Imperial bowmen were able to lay down impressive volleys due to being on a slope. Mamluk charges on the left and right flanks disintegrated soon after they made contact as the Imperial cavalry counter charged their flanks.
Matthias ordered a general charge and the infantry and cavalry swarmed in among the Mamluks. Even the horse archers were caught in the rush. Seeing the situation was in hand, the Chancellor allowed his retinue to join the fray.
Despite the fact that all the Egyptians were all on horseback, only a few managed to escape.
Matthias was satisfied with the result, but looked toward the hills with trepidation. There were two more armies up there to be dealt with.
-----
In order to draw the larger Egyptian army down from the higher hills, Matthias decided to attack the smaller force further down. Daytime battles had advantages as well.
Perhaps feeling confident after his initial victory, Matthias split his forces, sending all his cavalry to deal with the smaller army while he moved the infantry and bowmen to counter the larger one.
Despite an advance up hill, the cavalry made short work of the siege weapons and horsemen of the smaller Egyptian force.
Still, the relative inexperience of Matthias showed as his infantry line was not set when the Egyptian began shelling his army and their forces advanced.
The meeting of the lines was not a textbook affair. The main collision hit the the Imperal calvary who had come up from finishing the smaller Saracen force. The infantry was out of position but Matthias, frustrated, charged them into the melee to relieve his knights.
The Egyptian Captain was brought down and the artillerymen scattered. Still, Matthias was angry with himself. He swore to never be so sloppy again.
Despite his anger, the Egyptians were now cleared from around Jerusalem, and the ransoming of the prisoners would help the coffers. Matthias may have a few things left learn, but he now had the best teacher, experience.
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Final Defeat of the Mongol Second Wave
“So how do you want us to play this, my Prinz?” Kachig Iskyan inquired.
Elberhard scratched his head. He was in the unusual position of facing a Horse Lord army that was almost entirely without horses. Aside from their Khan’s escort, the last remnant of Mongols consisted almost exclusively of infantry. However, the Prinz's army too was lacking in horse. Elberhard’s over-reliance on heavy cavalry in his last battle with Khan order had depleted this arm, as had some transfers to King Salier’s army. As a result, the Germans had only two half-strength regiments of mounted knights and the Prinz’s own escort. However, the Germans were well supplied with pavise crossbowmen and infantry.
“Crossbows at front in loose order.” ordered Elberhard. "We’ll try to shoot it out with them. If we start to get the worst of it, we will send in the infantry.”
Kachig nodded. Elberhard turned to his Teuton captain:
“Jan, you will deploy on the left flank - the other knights on the right. But do not act impetuously. We must catch the Khan. My escort will form the reserve and will only engage when Khan Orda has committed his own escort.”
Jan saluted.
*****
Elberhard surveyed the battle. The Mongols had formed up on a gentle slope some way off.
“We will manoeuvre round to the left, so as to meet them on level ground.” the Prinz ordered.
However, while the Imperial army was still preparing its manoeuves, the Mongols marched down the slope and across a gentle valley towards the Germans.
“@#$%^&!!!, they don’t want to mess about. Quick! Halt! About turn! We will hold them here!”
When they were within range, the Mongol foot halted and began to open fire. Elberhard started to relax. Such a firefight would surely work to his advantage - he had higher ground, his crossbows were in loose order and well protected by large pavises. However, his heart began to beat faster when he saw that the Khan’s own bodyguard had not halted, but was continuing to march on the loose order German lines.
“Infantry - form close order! Spears to the front! Move it! I want all three regiments of spears to engage the Khan! The dismounted knights should head for the Mongol infantry.”
So much for the battle being decided with a shoot-out, mused Kachig.
As a melee erupted in the centre between German infantry and Mongol heavy cavalry, Elberhard noticed that the Mongol foot on his right flank were less well armoured and equipped than those supporting their Khan. Sensing that these foot archers would not stand, he ordered the cavalry on his right flank to chase them off.
The orders for the right wing given, Elberhard turned his attention back to the left and centre.
“Jan: off with you lad!” he dismissed the Teuton captain, who eagerly rode to commit his cavalry. Then the Prinz addressed his escort:
“All right, you @#$%^&!!!ers! The Mongol Khan has decided not to flee this battle. Let’s not give the @#$%^&!!! a chance to change his mind, shall we?”
The Mongol Khan fought with exemplary prowess and guile. While Elberhard charged in from the left, the Khan’s escort disengaged and struck on the right.
Then the Khan’s men disengaged again and plunged through the centre of the melee - their heavily armoured horses able to drive through the mass of German sergeants and dismounted knights.
At one point, the Mongols had cleared the central melee and were approaching the mass of crossbowmen at the rear of the German battle line. Kachig whistled through his teeth - the audacity of the Khan was amazing. Only around half a dozen men remained in the Khan’s escort. In such small numbers, there was little they could expect to do against over five hundred crossbowmen. Seeing that the German crossbowmen stood firm and did not try to retreat, the Khan turned back and charged again into the mass of the German infantry.
“Bring him down! For @#$%^&!!!’s sake, bring him down!” screamed Elberhard, ordering his escort to ignore the Mongol infantry in the central melee and head straight for the Khan.
But the Prinz got there too late. In the end, the mighty Khan was brought down by a lowly German sergeant.
With the death of their Khan, the Mongol infantry were doomed. The German horse hunted them down ruthlessly.
After the battle, when Elberhard heard his Captain’s reports, he was shocked to hear the casualty figures. The Khan had wrecked all three of his regiments of armoured sergeants, and killed half his dismounted Imperial knights.
“The @#$%^&!!!er!” he swore, adding almost respectfully. “The @#$%^&!!!ing @#$%^&!!!er!”
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Battle West of Paris 1268
Friederich Scherer was very happy. The French have not intruded within Swabian territory for a long time and the Swabian House Army has been reinforced with troops that came directly from the heart of the empire.
He and his army was camped near Paris attempting to ambush any French armies near Paris, but they were deceived as crafty French spies allowed one French army to get within shot of Paris and actually besieged the city.
Duke Scherer quickly moved his army to intercept the French. In his hastiness, he forgot to send spies to learn about the composition of the French army.
At the beginning of the battle, the Duke was concerned as most of the battlefield was in a forest and the Swabian House Army prided itself on its cavalry, which cannot maneuver well in forests. Thinking that the French had mostly infantry, the Duke ordered his crossbowmen to advance first. To his surprise, the French hid a significant force of missile troops within the forest and quickly decimated his mounted crossbowmen.
Seeing that the French had the superior missile force, the Duke ordered his army to quickly move forward. His rather large infantry line engaged the French and held the French infantry so the Duke and his cavalry can charge them in the back creating a quick route.
After the Battle with most of the French captured, the Duke was not in a good mood after losing so many crossbowmen and decided to execute all French prisoners.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The First Battle in the Campaign for the Voivoideship of Transylvania.
The scouts of the Austrian Household Army gave Sigismund ample warning of the approaching Huns. Though facing the entirety of their forces in the area, in truth he was somewhat relieved to be fighting a defensive battle. Ever since he was confronted by a large Hungarian host and forced to flee his heart had been aching for some great victory to overcome the disappointment, though at the same time it was perhaps making him more nervous then he should have been. The enemy had the initiative, and taking it from them would be much easier than holding it himself.
The night before the battle, there was a meeting in his command tent between himself, his retinue, and the nineteen captains of the AHA. On the wall behind his seat stood the coat of arms of his homeland Mahren, magnificently displayed.
https://img175.imageshack.us/img175/...aviasvgky1.png
They were all organized around a large table in the center, where a map of the nearby terrain lay along with markers representing both the AHA and their Hungarian foes. Thanks to the intelligence provided by an imperial spy named Andreas Ermolt, they were well prepared to formulate a strategy.
“The good news,” Sigismund continued, “is that the enemy army immediate to us is of medium strength compared to the other two.” Sigismund motioned to the markers on the table. “A couple of catapults, a few dismounted knights and militia, and some scant mounted knights and Hungarian nobles. Our first objective will be to overwhelm this army with all possible speed and secure a good position against their comrades.” He paused, more for emphasis than any real concern.
“After that it will get tricky. The main force should have twice as many catapults, their infantry will be proportionally weaker than the first force but more numerous, and their cavalry has quality and numbers similar to our own. Besides that we will have to worry about one hundred and eighty dismounted knights directly behind us, who could do quite a bit of damage.”
“This is not to say that we are in trouble, of course. The main force may attempt rush to the defense of the advance guard and leave their catapults behind. That would allow our crossbowmen to pick them off as they approach, leaving them tired and decimated when they finally reach us. I am also confident that with our superior numbers and ample cavalry we could easily crush the first force before assistance arrives, no matter how fast.”
“If they are patient and advance so as to bring their artillery to bare, then things can a tad more dramatic. We will have no choice to head at them full force, much as we will with the advance guard. This will probably be a good deal more hectic, but with equal cavalry and superior infantry we will still carry the day. It would also allow us to sick the archers upon the two units of dismounted knights earlier, and even knights will be hard pressed to advance against fire coming from more than twice their number.”
“No matter what happens, we will be victorious tomorrow. The only question is how the remaining battles will leave us. No then, get some rest. Dismissed.” The captains filed out, leaving Sigismund’s retinue. “I trust there are no objections here?” Sigismund asked as they stood up.
“None, m’lord,” remarked Karl as he got up from sitting to Sigismund's left. “I especially like the part where the archers get to chew up some knights and spit them out. No offense to you, of course. As for old Frodric here, I doubt he has much interest in field battles. Isn’t that right?” He punctuated this statement by reaching past Sigismund and giving giving the man sitting there a strong pat on the back, waking him from a subtle slumber in his seat.
“…It’s Frederick, I told you before. You’re also wrong in saying I have no interest, as I am well qualified on how to face artillery in the field as well as using it in sieges.” He clumsily stood up as he continued. “And it’s true that you want them taken out as soon as possible, especially since Sir Sigismund is their most likely target. Now if you’ll excuse, I’m very tired.” With Sigismund’s leave, he departed the tent. Karl shrugged, and left as well.
That left Ludwig, who had been observing the meeting over Sigismund's shoulder. Finally meeting his gaze, Sigismund spoke. “You don’t have to worry, Father. I remember what he talked about, and I am still an agreement. Any difficulty it brings us will just make the triumph more rewarding.” Father Ludwig nodded slowly, and somberly exited the tent as well.
As he retired to his quarters, Sigismund couldn’t help but smile.
“Here’s hoping I can pick up some more characters in Hungary,” he said to no one in particular.
***
The follow day, it rained. And it rained. And it rained.
Before the Hungarians could decide what to do, the Austrian Household Army had already advanced on their position, forcing them to fight or abandon the battle. Fortunately, they choose to stand their ground. In his mind, Sigismund was quite glad to see the enemy’s catapults reduced by the foul weather, and thought it a sign from God.
Before the battle was joined, Sigismund addressed the army as was customary.
“This is a glorious moment in the history of the Empire. Here we dutiful Germans will write a new page of the Imperial chronicles, a page where we will live forever. Remembered and honored down through the years, celebrated in tavern song and bawdy tales. And that’s just if we die here!”
“And remember, good Germans, that we are not just fighting for our homes and families, good reasons though they may be. We are fighting for the idea of a new Roman Empire, universal and holy, where all men are equal just as they are in the eyes of the Lord! Germans, Italians, French, Czechs, Swiss, Poles and even Hungarians all have a place! The men before us stand in the way of a united Christian empire, and they must be defeated before they can be our brothers! And now, let’s to the foe! I feel hungry already, and war gives me an excessive appetite! Let’s to the battle, and then the feast!” At the last, the AHA erupted in large roar. Even his nearest guards could not hear Sigismund whisper “Father, mother. It won’t happen again.”
As the battle began, Sigismund deployed his infantry and cavalry as far forward as possible. The archers he placed on his right flank, to guard against approaching forces.
Immediately he ordered his army ahead at full speed, so that they could take the hill and be ready for the reinforcements. In response, the Hungarians moved forward as well.
Between the sound and fog of the rain and the issuing of orders, Sigismund failed to notice that the Hungarian nobles had decided not to pepper the cavalry with arrows. Indeed, he was quite surprised when one of his guards blocked a sword aimed for Sigismund’s head, though he recovered quickly. The Teutons moved to flank the nobles, the mailed knights turned to face the town militia.
The reduced visibility in turn made the eventually joining equally chaotic.
Soon the Hungarian’s left disintegrated, and the Austrian cavalry was free to flank the main line, such as it was.
Meanwhile, the cavalry on the right had gone too far without being given orders. In the fog they did not notice the bulk of the enemy army until they were right in front of them. To far to even see the rest of the battle, with a shrug the knights charged the enemy. They opted for a hit-and-run strategy.
But those responsible failed to remember the ample enemy cavalry. This included a unit of mailed knights with the advance guard that had not been engaged and had turned around to attack the german knights from behind.
Though the knights routed, most of them escaped and within short order they had rallied. Meanwhile, the Hungarians had yielded the hill. Unfortunately, between the crossbowmen and the fleeing knights much of the Hungarian forces were drawn away from the hill. The unoccupied infantry were drawn up in order to attack.
While this was going on, the rain progressed beyond annoyance. Imperial soldiers gave a good account of themselves as always, but the difficulty in seeing what was going on lead many soldiers to pursue their beaten foes as if they were the only enemies on the field. This resulted in some awkward locations for skirmishes.
Similarly, the battle line was also quite chaotic. As Imperial and Hungarian forces clashed, the rallied feudal and gothic made a poor attempt to flank a unit of mailed knights.
Fortunately the Austrians get their first good news, when Captain Istok of the advance force fell to the Teutonic Knights. Istoks forces soon ceased to be a factor in the battle.
Unfortunately, at this point the battle was complete chaos.
Even the archers could not escape grim melee.
Fortunately, the Gothic Knights succeeded in defeating Captain Boldyszar of the main force.
Unfortunately the battle was still not over, as Hungarian catapults decided at last to have their say.
Sigismund cursed silently. He ordered his tired guard to wheel from wherever the hell they were and attack the catapult with all due haste. As he approached, he noticed that the mailed knights had momentarily stopped.
“Come on, you lot! There are two division of catapults, and two of us!”
Together, they plowed through no less then five fleeing regiments of Hungarians before attacking the catapult crew.
During the melee, Sigismund was only vaguely aware of the battle the raged around him.
The artillerists soon died or fled, and Sigismund rode forward to see the battle progressing nicely.
There was still a few moments of hard fighting, but eventually the Hungarians gave way and the Reich took the field.
***
After a short time, the army had reassembled. As he reviewed the army whilst on horseback, it was obvious to Sigismund that they were badly depleted. The official report confirmed this.
Half the army gone. Though Sigismund was not seriously considering withdrawal, this was still a serious matter. As he pondered the difficulty that awaited him, a squire rode up him excitedly.
“Sir, sir! Our scouts have just discovered the prisoners that the Hungarians took! They're all alive, one hundred and eighteen men!”
Sigismund joyously laughed out loud. This was almost a fifth of the casualties.
“Very good! It seems our friends the Hungarians know when to show respect to a worthy foe! Let us return the favor and let our prisoners free as well!”
At that moment, there was silence in the entire Austrian Household Army. In their entire history, such an order had never been given. But they were good soldiers, they quickly recovered and went about their orders.
Back at camp, the good mood was somewhat tempered as the reality of the situation began to sink in. Sigismund was received in earful from Karl in private, but that was balanced by Ludwig’s silent approval of the mercy that was shown by both sides. Sigismund even conducted an after-action analysis with his captains, and they were able to draw up a few conclusions on what mistakes could have been avoided.
“So then,” Sigismund thought to himself as he read the final report. “Firstly, we agreed that the rain was most likely a great deal worse than anything the catapults could have done. Unit commanders were largely left to their own initiative, and forced to rely on simply skill at arms rather than good strategy. The two units of knights charging the main army, as well as the largely unguarded crossbowmen, were both tactical mistakes due to the large amount of enemy cavalry.” He paused. It was clear that having leaving the two units of dismounted knights to the crossbowmen was a much better idea. The enemy’s cavalry would have had to go completely around in order to intercept them their. He had also forgotten a cardinal rule of keeping casualties low: Ganging up on few enemy units with as much force as practical. The rest, was simply due to the confusion and poor perception caused by the storm. At least, that's what he told himself. A part of him knew that he still had a lot to learn about calm in battle.
Sigismund sighed, and stood up from his modest desk to give the camp one last look around before going to bed. While on his inspection, he happened to notice the man who had saved his life in the early moments of battle. He walked up to the man with a pace that was borderline undignified, and when the man stood up to attention Sigismund spoke.
“I’m glad that there are men who can watch my back when I am not. You… You said your name was Welf von Tyrol, correct?”
“Correct, mein Count.” the man replied rigidly. Like most general’s bodyguard, he was lesser noble who had seen countless battles.
“Welf, eh?” Sigismund chuckled. “It seems our fathers both had high hopes for us. Well then Welf, I could use an advisor who’s seen his fair share of battles. How about joining my personal retinue as a veteran warrior?”
At this, Welf relaxed somewhat. “Why lord, I would be honored.”
“Excellent! I’ll have my adjutants fill you in come the ‘morrow. Get a well disserved rest, Welf.” They parted ways, and Sigismund continued with his inspection. It was a heavy trust he placed in this man, but he had a hunch that this Welf would help he not end up like his brother or namesake.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
1268: The Battle of Loeb's Ridge
Meine Herren, this is an account of the victory had against the Polish army in the lands south of Thorn, at a place known as Loeb's Ridge. The trespassing kielbasa-eaters had encamped on a hill to the west of Fritz von Kastilien's position, and would not move regardless of what the forces of the Reich did to provoke them.
Osenblast, an aide of the camp, though often soft of mind, at last contrived a ploy which brought them out of their stupor. The army made ready while he and about thirty mounted crossbowmen rode through the trees to the enemy's camp, with two loaded bows each. When they had crept close enough, they made a great show of noise and trumpets, shooting both bows into the enemy camp and specifically at the commander's tent.
In moments battle commenced. The Polish commander Pawol, perhaps angry at having to leave a leisurely breakfast, charged headlong at Osenblast and his men.
Meanwhile, the Reich's army had been drawn up and were awaiting Pawol's arrival with most unfriendly intentions, as was only right.
Seeing his prey slide through our army to safety, Pawol thought he would make a brave show. He turned and sprinted across the face of our battle line, trailing many dead behind as our pavise bowmen shot his bodyguard to pieces.
Perhaps he was attempting to give his army time to mobilise, but why Pawol decided to attack half of our cavalry alone, with half his guard lying wounded or dead, is likely a mystery that will never be solved.
Fritz von Kastilien received a report from the knights who surrounded him, and one of them stated that Pawol seemed to register surprise just before he ran for his life.
While Pawol had been throwing away his honour on these vain heroics, the Polish army had formed up and their ballistas had been manned. Fritz von Kastilien did not feel it wise to let these have any shots at our forces, so he ordered the battle line to move forward at speed and take the Poles while they still imagined themselves safe.
The order with which the Reich's armies had been marshaled seemed to loose the bowels of many of the enemy. Within the first minute of battle the entire southern flank of the enemy had turned to run.
There were, however, those with more honour amongst the enemy. A large knot of them formed on the surviving northern flank, and the fought bravely and well. Most of the losses in the forces of the Reich came from these stiff resisters.
The might of our knights' charge did not even break them.
However, to the endless dismay of the Polish army, Fritz von Kastilien and his bodyguard drove their lances straight into the enemy!
Fritz could not restrain himself, and waded in at the front of his guard, hopelessly outnumbered but sure of victory.
At last, the enemy broke completely. Cavalry were sent to run down and capture the fools.
In the end the Polish force was reduced by over three quarters: a quarter from the dead or wounded, another quarter from the hundreds of prisoners the cavalry of the Reich hunted down, and a final quarter from deserters, no doubt fleeing to other lands where the generalship is better.
A Polish delegation came back as Fritz von Kastilien and Osenblast were reckoning up the honours the men should receive. They, most meekly, requested the release of the prisoners. Fritz von Kastilien agreed, but demanded payment in honour of the dead and as recompense for the farmer Loeb whose cattle had been slaughtered by these invaders. The Polish delegation duly gave way before his wrath, and paid over 3500 florins. These florins are even now on their way, under guard, to the Imperial coffers.
Long live the Kaiser, and long live the Reich!
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Second Battle
“So then, the usual.”
With the Hungarian force finally within sight, Welf was getting eager for battle. The plan that Sigismund had decided on was mostly similar to what was supposed to have happened in the first battle: A quick movement to stifle the catapults as soon as possible. Now, the situation had changed further in their favor by the deterioration of their foes, whose army had lost a disproportionate number of knights. Indeed, Sigismund had decided that in the interests of fairness and conservation that the crossbowmen would sit this battle out, causing so small distress to Karl. But Sigismund was very reluctant about being known as a bully, and the archers would certainly see their fair share of blood in the battles to come.
***
When they arrived, they found their Hungarian foes stationed near the top of the hill.
“And where, pray tell, is the second army?” inquired Sigismund to Welf.
“Just over that hill, my lord.” Welf pointed to the right.
“Well then,” replied Sigismund. “I’ll be right back.”
Marching his guard with fair speed, they soon reached the top of the hill.
Sigismund paused to observe the enemy reinforcements.
“Right then. Tell the main force to wheel to face the enemy and then hold position. We’ll deal with this lot first.”
“Let’s go, lads! The enemy has presented us with their flank, and I am not so rude as to refuse such a generous gift!” With that, Sigismund led his bodyguard straight into the enemy.
Though dear Captain Ugron took a sword swipe to the gut, he survived the enemy held fast. Sigismund quickly pulled back, and as the Huns pursued he ordered another charge.
This time, Ugron was not so lucky.
“That’s enough! Back to the main event!” ordered Sigismund.
Coincidentally, a messenger soon rode up to Sigismund.
“My lord, a small unit of Hungarian Cavalry is harassing the dismounted knights!”
“Tell them to start marching up the hill. I’ll catch up to them soon enough.”
It was a long march, lasting several minutes. But eventually, the Imperials closed in on the Hungarian.
Finally, after scant artillery fire, the two lines closed for battle. Sigismund quickly ordered the bulk of is cavalry to move around their right side, hoping to draw some attention away from the left so the smaller units of knights could slip in and attack the artillery.
Soon, the Austrian cavalry joined the fight.
After that, Sigismund and the Imperial Knights broke through to attack the Hungarian rear.
The response to this attack, combined with the superior quality of Imperial soldiers, resulted in a Hungarian army that was quickly disintegrating
Captain Menhar was so busy trying to rally his forces that he could not see what was in front of him until it was too late.
After that, it was simply a matter of mopping up the enemy.
As Sigismund reviewed the report and the state of his army before moving out, he pondered the state of the AHA.
“We still have enough to complete the campaign, though our margin for error is still pretty slim.” Sigismund thought. “I might need to ask the Chancellor for a few mercenaries when we reach Bran just to be on the safe side.”
Sigismund’s thoughts were interrupted by one of his adjutants.
“My lord, the smaller force is retreating back to Bran. The larger has moved southward, but instead of following the road to Sofia or Bucharest they have moved slightly to the left.”
Interesting news. There was already a force of Hungarians too far west for them to intercept. They would probably draw the wrath of Duke Arnold, who could then easily dispatch this retreating army if they chose to advance further west. But then, it would be patently cruel to let them face Duke Arnold in battle.
“Let the prisoners go, and assemble the cavalry. We move to intercept.”
***
The Third Battle
It as an ambitious plan, but simple. Take the cavalry, crush the enemy, meet up with the rest of army as they continued moving forward. But as they say, the devil is in the details.
Coordinating such a battle to it’s successful conclusion would be difficult. The knights would have to be moving constantly, in and out of battle, charging and recharging. The enemy considerably outnumbered them, so there was a real danger of getting surrounded. All the while Sigismund would have to evaluate targets, and keep an eye out for when the Captain was vulnerable. But then, with great reward does not come without great risk. He gave the signal, and the battle begun.
It was normal at first.
But it soon became more chaotic as units became more spread out on the battlefield. The small units of knights attacked the catapult crew, whilst Sigismund and several of his knights fought the Hungarian feudal knights.
The Hungarians were not used to facing mass hit-and-run tactics from an opposing army, and their largely infantry-based force was faltering in the face of this powerful stratagem conducted by heavily armored and highly mobile cavalry.
The fighting was fierce, as each man had to kill many times his number by necessity. Sigismund himself stopped counting when he past eight. But with the enemy thinning, He soon spotted the opportunity he needed to bring the battle to a close. He ordered his entire army up the hill, and straight at the captain.
When their forces clashed, Sigismund locked his eyes intently upon his counterpart.
But it was not to be, as the swarm of cavalry soon separated them.
Soon Captain Ugron was cut down, and Sigismund led the rest of his knights to cut down the remaining foe.
When the battle was done, he was exceedingly pleased with the result. For every one of his men that were slain, they had taken eight from the enemy. The Hungarians that retreated were now outnumbered by his own men. But contemplation could wait until they were back with the main force.
He glanced at the prisoners, themselves more numerous than either of the two armies.
“Let them go. If we are to travel fast, we need both our wallets and our consciences to be unburdened."
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Placeholder for Fritz & Péter's defence of Thorn, 1270
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Apologies for the poor quality of this report. I lost interest in writing it about 1/4 of the way through, so just quickly finished the rest as a bare bones narrative.
----
Burghard reached down and patted his horse’s neck. If the movement reassured the skittish animal, it certainly didn’t show. Riding next to him, Marcus smirked. “I told you not to take an unblooded mount. He won’t have the nerve for a real charge.”
“He’ll do fine,” Burghard spat back. “Besides, there’s not a single damned spearman among them.” Both men purposely avoided stating the obvious: spearmen weren’t needed when there were nearly a thousand knights available to take their place. Twisting in his saddle, the Imperial Knight turned to look at his own lines, far behind. “That bastard is sending us to our death, you know.”
The Lothar Steffen, the Count of Florence, had assembled the army on the crest of a large hill, overlooking the battlefield. A long, thin line of pavise crossbowmen stood in the fore, with armored spearmen backing them, several ranks deep. They were no match for the hordes of Milanese knights, and everyone knew it. The only heavy infantry in the entire army were four regiments of dismounted knights, half wielding swords and half wielding maces. They were placed some distance off on either flank and slightly forward of the crossbowmen. From there, they would threaten the Milanese flanks and work around their rear. Assuming, of course, that the spearmen held out against the main assault, something that they were not likely to do for very long.
Marcus spat on the ground; his saliva disappearing into the earth as the hooves of a hundred mailed horses churned the ground to muck. “You’re so damned depressing all the time. We’re going to die, I’ll lose an arm, They’ll cut my bloody balls off! I swear, if I have to listen to your whining for another cursed battle, I’ll cut off your lance myself!” Burghard eyed his companion for several seconds, then burst into a laugh.
Their reverie was broken by the crisp note of a warhorn. As one, the visors of a hundred bascinets dropped into place as the knights spurred their horses to a gallop. Visibility through the eyeslits was heavily restricted, but it was impossible for Burghard to miss his target. The four trebuchet were easily seven meters high, likely more, and were visible to every man on the battlefield. A second note sounded and half the riders peeled away to the left, while Burghard and Marcus’ group couched their lances and urged their mounts into a full charge.
The lines of Milanese engineers who were escorting the first pair of trebuchet simply disintegrated under the impact of the attack. The momentum of the charge was so great that the front ranks of Imperial Knights easily broke through the other side and plunged into the second group of engineers. Burghard sweated and grunted as he swung his mace down time and time again. Several times he glanced up, expecting to see swarms of swordsmen bearing down on him. They never came. While the Germans slaughtered the Milanese siege train, the main line of infantry continued to march resolutely onwards… towards the real battle.
The same could not be said of Count Chimenti’s personal guard. The Milanese cavalry spurred into their Bavarian counterparts, forcing the Germans to break off their attack on the engineers. Several men fell under the fresh attack, but moments later the second group of Imperial Knights appeared, riding at full tilt into the rear of the now-engaged Milanese cavalry. A third of the Count’s men fell instantly; bodies and horses alike pierced through with lance points. Trapped on two sides, outnumbered, and assaulted with armor-crushing maces, the remaining men began to fall like flies. The Milanese Count, with half a dozen bodyguards, broke free from the melee and rode for the safety of his army.
Burghard kicked in his heels and followed. His horse may have been unblooded, but it was fresh, and it was fast. Three other Bavarians rode along with him. They gained on the nobleman quickly and the men were forced to halt their flight and fight, for fear of being taking from behind by an unseen blow. The Milanese retainers fell quickly; their chainmail provided little protection against the crushing blows from their assailants. Count Chimenti’s full plate armor absorbed the assault far better. He managed to down one of the Germans before he crumpled under the attack of the Burghard and his two companions.
Panting and out of breath, Burghard raised his visor and looked back up the hill. He could see the second contingent of Bavarian cavalry cutting down the engineers escorting the remaining siege engines. Far ahead of them, the great line of Milanese infantry was closing quickly with the main army. Glints of sunlight showed that the crossbowmen were making them pay for ever step up the hill.
The crossbowmen were slow to reload, however, and after only a few shots they were forced to pull back behind the line of spearmen. Simultaneously, the Milanese knights charged the Bavarian spears, while the flanking Bavarian knights rushed to envelop both flanks.
The clash of steel on steel rang out across the field of battle. The Bavarian center, bereft of swordsmen, suffered considerable. The entire front rank of the line, and much of the second, fell within moments.
Yet this horrendous damage was likewise mirrored against the Milanese flanks. Taken from the side and rear, the swordsmen were no match for the macemen. The rightmost regiment of Milanese knights collapsed first, freeing their Bavarian counterparts to fall upon the unprotected rear of the main line.
Simultaneously, Marcus, Burghard, and the rest of the surviving cavalry crashed into the rear of the Milanese center.
The effect was instantaneous. Suddenly surrounded on all sides, the Milanese infantry panicked.
The slaughter that followed was terrible and exhilarating to behold. Never before had Burghard seen so many trained knights fall. Yet, all was not over. Seeing the plight of his men from afar, the Milanese Duke himself had ridden forth from the citadel of Cagliari to aid the survivors.
His gesture was noble, but foolish. The Bavarian army quickly reformed their lines and the crossbowmen began to pelt the new arrivals from behind the wall of spearmen. The Duke’s men formed a much shorter front than the previous engagement, and thus the bolts concentrated to a far deadlier effect. A third of the Milanese reinforcements fell before the steel rain.
In desperation, the Duke’s cavalry charged into the foot knights on the left flank of the Bavarian line.
The impact did immense damage, but the spearmen fell upon the engaged cavalry from the rear. Another slaughter began. It was only through sheer luck that the Duke and a handful of his retainer managed to slip through the enveloping Germans.
Two of Lothar Steffen’s own retinue attempted to cut off the fleeing Duke, but his steed was too agile and dodged out of the way behind a large boulder.
The Duke escaped, but this minor victory was to be very short-lived.
With only seven surviving men available to hold the citadel, the Bavarians were able to slip a man inside the walls and open the doors from the inside.
The result was predictable.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Placeholder for Fritz' battle against Polish cavalry, 1272
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Siege
https://img175.imageshack.us/img175/...aviasvgky1.png
It was 1274, and the campaign season was just about to start. Sigismund was in his tent with his retinue, thinking about how to proceed.
“I think the Chancellor knows me too well.” He remarked to no one in particular.
“Why’s that?” responded Karl, as usual.
“He’s ordered the AHA to seize Bran before the end of the season. I think he wants me to avoid creating situation I can’t handle.”
“Probably a good idea.” Welf stated simply.
“Regardless, I suppose I can’t blame him.” Sigsimund exhaled. “Bran is formidable in it’s fortifications. The Hungarians have even taken the time to install cannons in their towers.” At this, Frederick perked up.
“Really? And here I though that with a spy to open the gates, my coming here was a complete waste of time.”
“They also have a siege works and a cannon foundry.” said Sigsimund.
“Yes, I’m quite glad to have been a part of this.” finished Frederick.
“And were it not for those towers,” Sigismund continued, “I would be inclined to rout the enemies before us, trap them in Bran with a siege, hire a few mercenaries, and defeat them after the construction of a few rams, ladders, and towers. But this is simpler, and I’ll probably have to fight these Hungarians anyway.” Sigismund paused.
Or Arnold would. Perhaps that was the main reason he was hesitant to end the campaign so quickly. Perhaps that was why the Chancellor was ordering him to take Bran at once, so Arnold could resume command. Well, no matter.
“But it’s still not right.” Sigismund lamented. “After those three battles, it would be anticlimactic to destroy the King of Hungary with the entire army.”
“Here we go.” remarked Welf quietly.
“Yes, I’d like to end this with another even fight. I’ll take the best unit of Armored Sergeants we have, and together we’ll defeat the King. He’s not that impressive to begin with, if my bodyguard were more numerous the spearmen wouldn’t be necessary.”
“He fears battle, and his wife’s brazen and unchallenged adultery has made him a laughing stock. Hardly a regal figure.” remarked Welf.
“The report even says he’s a corrupt, severely austere hoarder of wealth. How does that work?” asked Karl.”
“Yes, I don’t expect him to be much of challenge.” stated Sigismund. “He’s healthy but that’s it.”
***
At last, they had arrived. Bran was before them.
Pausing to reflect on the victory that awaited him, Sigismund watched as a hawk flew from within the city and landed on his outstretched hand. Unwrapping the message that was on it’s leg, he read.
“My lord, I’ve bought off a few guards and the gates will open upon your command. As I write this, the King of Hungary is within the first ring in the east of the castle. Despite my efforts I cannot conceal your presence much longer. Move swiftly.
Your man in Bran.”
Sigismund chuckled inwardly at the rhyme. He cast a glance at the castle, where his enemy must be. Then he addressed his men.
“All right lads, time to get what we came here for! Double time, till reach the center or the enemy!”
It did not take long for his own guard to enter through the first wall.
As the Armored Sergeants entered the castle, Sigismund was halfway to the second gate.
Meanwhile, having been made aware of the invaders, the King of Hungary approached the same gate in order to get back to the center of the Citadel.
“At last!” exclaimed Cecil. “All right, get ready! Slow down to a normal march and prepare to charge!” Sigismund was quite excited to fight King like this. His excited turned to outrage when the King’s men started going through the gate instead of attacking.
“How dare they show their backs to us! Double time, attack!”
And so Count fought King. The battle progressed exactly as Sigismund expected. His were better men, but not good enough to overcome the King’s numbers. Sigismund paused from his reflection to attack a Hungarian knight.
Finally, the spearmen arrived. Sigismund having lost fourteen of his men and King Markus having lost twenty-four, the former decided to pull his men back and let the spearmen finish the latter off.
As expected, it was an easy task. The Armored Sergeants assault soon cost the King control of that gates.
As the battle continued the King found himself more and more out of favor. His men could not stop the spearmen, who by now had forced their way through the gatehouse.
Unheard by all but the rearmost spearmen, a cry rang out amongst Sigismund’s bodyguards. Though the Reich had taken the gates, there were still Hungarian archers who had only Sigismund and his men to target. One arrow found it’s mark, and Sigismund died. The shock and grief was great amongst those who noticed, but most of the soldiers were too busy fighting to notice. And so, Sigismund’s soul ascended to Heaven. The King of Hungary’s departure would not be far behind.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Her charred, sightless eyes stared into his soul. He tried to back away, but the roots rose up around him, tripping him and binding his legs. He tore at them desperately, but they would not release him. She drew closer, gliding over the ground without effort, her rotting intestines dragging on the ground like a demonic wedding train. She leaned over him and grinned. Then her mouth opened and blood poured out. It grew and grew, her jaw unhinged and the dark void within blocked out the moon and the stars. The fluid became a torrent, filling the world. He tried to breath, but there was no air.
“MY LORD!” A knight was shaking him by the shoulder. Lothar Steffen shook his head, as if waking from a deep sleep. He blinked hard and looked at the man. “They’re coming my Lord! Do we hold?!”
Lothar looked around him, but he could see little in the dense forest. A few flashes of black and gold showed where Bavarian soldiers were hidden in ambush. He could hear war horns sounding unfamiliar chords in the distance.
The knight was wide-eyed. “The Spanish will be on us at any moment! What are your orders?!”
The Spanish… yes. I remember now.
“Are the spearmen back yet? Have they killed Prince Agosto?”
The man shook his head frantically. “I don’t know, my Lord. There were sounds of battle, but we have heard nothing from the ambush party.”
They should be back by now! Nearly 250 spearmen to take on less than a fifth that number! By the Heavens, only the Devil himself could have stopped them.
I am cursed. Danae will take me as she took my brother. My God preserve me. I have damned us all.
“SIR?!” The knight shook him again. Lothar stared blankly ahead, as the gloom enveloped his mind once more. More horns sounded, followed by a roar of men and beast. The Spanish poured into the woods around him.
Lothar felt a tug on his boots and looked down. Rotting hands had clawed free from the earth and taken hold of him. The earth itself was sinking underneath his horse. Rider and beast were held together as the pit began to fill with maggots and beetles. The horse’s eyes were wide in terror and it kicked hard, once, twice, three times. On the fourth, it lurched free and bolted away. Lothar’s hands were like solid steel on the reigns. He closed his eyes and prayed.
“Heavenly Father, protect me…”
There was a flash of light. Horsemen clashed at the edge of a great wood.
“Your family is cursed, evil one.”
“…hallowed be thy name…”
Branches whipped into his helmet. Javelins were impaling armored men, while Holy Warriors rode with the light at their backs.
“Nothing can save you now.”
“…lift on high the flaming sword…”
A sticky wetness dripped down his cheek. Dark cloaked men thrust spears into the faces of Christian knights.
“I glory in my end…”
“…purge the minions of Death…”
His left arm was numb. Men with giant shields screamed as they were cut down in droves.
“…for it is paradise in comparison…”
“…your holy servant…”
His horse reared. Pure chaos surrounded him. Men armed with every imaginable weapon, armored in plate and mail and leather. All screamed as one
“…to that which awaits…”
“…before Christ Almighty…”
A lance pierced a man of shining steel. The world roared around him.
“…every man who bears the Steffen name.”
“…in your name for all eternity.”
The forest was quieter. Men spoke softly in small groups, clustered around corpses wearing black and yellow in equal number. Rings were hacked off fingers. Coins spilled from the pockets of the dead.
“My Lord. Are you alright?”
Lothar stared blankly at the man before him.
“We lost track of you when they Spanish cavalry broke upon us. You’re bleeding, my lord. Your head and your arm.”
The Count of Florence looked down at the sword in his hand. It was heavily notched and stained with rivulets of blood. “The Lord spared me.”
“He spared us all. Thought for sure we were doomed. Now, let’s see about getting you tended to.” Lothar felt a pull at his right arm, and he followed. The ground writhed and moaned around him.
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Battle at Yelin Stones
West of Hamburg, 1274
Fast by the stones they stood
Fell men of fealty proven
No rite they performed there that day
But stood taunting icy foes onward.
Ragged battle line of limber men
Rushed right over the rimed ground
Shouting their warcries to heavens
Bathed in their nostrils' white breath.
Endless line of archers armed
Each eager for everlasting glory
Broke heaving line with aim true
Leveled countless strong men running.
Cries come together in battle
Clash of chilled steel calls onward
Strong men of Reich stand ready
As wicked wave breaks, falls to gravel.
Hard contest of men and of steed
Heads hacked and hungrily hewn
Dead men fall under strong feet
The frost now melts in red streams.
Woe to vanquished foe running
While warlust brings warhorses on
The day of their doom ends with din
Of hooves winging white earth upward.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Outside Edessa, 1276
“And the shapes of the locusts were like unto horses prepared unto battle; and on their heads were as it were crowns like gold, and their faces were as the faces of men.”
- Revelation 9:7
“Kill the locusts,” Conrad Salier said to himself as he put his Bible down.
The prayer session was over. He walked around his tent, collecting the items he would take with him in battle today. There was his sword, originally his father’s but passed into his possession when Mandorf had died. It was still unmarked. There was a special pad for his bad leg, crafted by Outremer’s finest scientists after he had nearly died killing the Egyptian Sultan some years ago. There was his Crown of Thorns, taken from Damascus in order to provide extra protection on this day.
He walked around the tent once more. His rosary was complete, his breakfast (bratwurst) eaten, his Bible read.
He was ready.
The enemy today was, of course, the Horse Lords, back for a third round against the forces of Outremer. The word was that this batch was stronger, smarter. That this batch was aiming specifically for the Imperials, bypassing Mosul. It didn’t matter. They were still stupid by engaging the Imperials in the first place. They, like the first two waves before them, would learn that lesson the hard way today.
He walked over, fully-armored, mounted his horse, and headed to the battlefield. The rest of his escort fell in, and eventually the entire army did as well.
On the battlefield, a godforsaken heap of sand that was hot to the touch of foot, boot, and horseshoe, Conrad gradually realized that something was terribly wrong: There were no dust clouds in the distance in any direction. His reserve army, led by Count Jan von Hamburg, was nowhere to be seen.
“Fine then,” he said, “We’ll wait for them to come to us. These savages over there have pressed forward all the way here,” he continued, his voice gradually rising, “Let them press further on! Let them press on and meet Imperial steel!” A cheer rose up among the men. “They will wear themselves out, just like with Elberhard! And then Jan will have shorter to walk and easily finish them off!” Another cheer. People were whistling, clanging on their shields, and generally making as much noise as possible.
But the Horse Lords refused to move. Their army stood, in a professional fashion, observing the Imperial noisemaking with something resembling stoicism. Evidently they had changed, at least this much.
The Imperial cheering gradually turned to silence at the sight of their enemy being so statuesque. Eventually the battlefield was completely quiet. There was no marching, no cheering, no fighting, not even the sound of the wind blowing, providing relief to the soldiers standing still in full armor as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. All traces of movement had left the place.
After about an hour of silence, Conrad finally broke it.
“Enough,” he said. “Runner. Ride back to Edessa and see what’s taking Jan so long and how far away he is. I’m not feeling too well, and I’d like to get this battle over in case my condition worsens. Go!” The man he was speaking to spurred his horse in the opposite direction, kicking up dust on the way. Conrad watched him go, wiped his brow, and spoke to the entire body of soldiers again.
“All right men, these cowards refuse to march out and face us. So we shall come to them and bring the might of the Lord with us! All units… FORRRRRRWARD… MARCH!”
Conrad watched as his men marched as one across the hot desert sand to their target. As the march wore on, he found himself having to squint more and more often. Not because he was walking directly into the sun (although this helped), it was because he was feeling slightly faint.
Lord, if you are to take me today then I only ask that you wait until the battle is over before doing so. Conrad tightly clenched the grip of his sword, and closed his eyes…
…
…he opened them and looked around. The skirmishing had begun. He widened his eyes in surprise. Evidently he had lost consciousness. This would not be good. After sizing up the situation, he gave his orders, praying that nobody had noticed his condition.
“All right, men! Infantry, you know what to do!”
Once again the men cheered and charged into the fray. There was a resounding crash as steel met steel and man met horse. The battle line was unexpectedly straight, almost as if two civilized peoples were fighting back in Europe.
…back home…
Conrad found himself increasingly unable to control his thoughts as the battle progressed. He wheeled his poor horse around every two seconds, first observing the melee, then checking for signs of Jan, then marking the position of the Mongol horse archers, then going back to the melee, which had absolutely no change in it aside from the fact that more bodies on both sides had dropped, then back to Jan, still no sign of him…
Make it stop, he thought, getting dizzy, and closed his eyes…
…
… “My King! I said we’ve created a breach!”
“A breach?” Conrad said instinctively, for his eyes were still scanning the battle and what had progressed in his loss of consciousness. “If there’s a breach, then by all means, let’s exploit it! Forward!” he said after a second, still without thinking. If his head was clear and he knew about his condition then he clearly would have hung back and sent another cavalry regiment forward, while he stayed back and took on the less-life-threatening job of marking the horse archers.
However, this was not the case, and Conrad’s escort charged into the breach. Maybe we’ll win without Jan, he thought. He hoped.
He soon realized in his deteriorating condition that he needed more men to exploit this breach. The Horse Lord general had thrown three whole regiment’s worth of infantry into the hole in order to force the Imperials back. With the absence of Jan, his force simply lacked the punch it had enjoyed in the battle where Elberhard had arrived on time.
“Spears, kill this mess! My men, fight your way through! We aim for their general!”
Instantly his escort angled east and began to slog through the mass that was the Mongol infantry. His men had no momentum but more weight. It would be slow work indeed…
…he took a blow on his leg, his bad leg. It dislodged his padding and his leg cried out in pain. Gripping his sword tightly from it, he closed his eyes…
…
…he found himself alone, surrounded by men. They were not of his command. Looking around, slashing wildly, he found the majority of his escort still to the east, trying to engage and catch the enemy general.
“And the shapes of the locusts were like unto horses prepared unto battle; and on their heads were as it were crowns like gold, and their faces were as the faces of men.”
“Kill the locusts,” Conrad said, as the sword that had slain so many Turks, Saracens, and Horse Lords without getting a scratch began its dance once more.
He was completely unaware of the greater battle around him; unaware of the fact that his men were putting up an extremely good fight, killing at around a 1:1 ratio. He was unaware of the horse archers advancing unchecked on his crossbowmen, unaware of the fact that his runner had met up with Jan and the young Count was now making his way as fast as he could to the battlefield, cursing himself for his slowness, unaware that the rest of his bodyguard was being annihilated by the enemy’s own escort and yet more reserve infantry. All he knew was that the poison that Abdullah had put on his bratwurst before breakfast was flaring up to its deadly potential in his body, and that he would kill as many people as he could before it took him completely.
He was gradually losing consciousness, this time for good, and desperately focused all of his remaining energy on attack with right, defend with left, and for a time it was working, he was smiting all of the infantry in reach with his wrath…
…finally, the poison took the use of his limbs away from him. Conrad, paralyzed, could only watch and chuckle silently as his final pose was him, raising his father’s sword, still gleaming and unblemished, high in the air, and then he fell, finally overwhelmed by the enemy’s numbers. He felt a box, containing a valuable item that he couldn’t quite remember, spill out from somewhere, and then he felt no more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To the west, Jan von Hamburg, whipping his tired forces onto the battlefield, observed what was going on ahead of him. He had finally arrived, hoping that he wasn’t too late to help kill the enemy.
“Faster!” he kept yelling. “Do you want to help out the King or not?” His men marched on, eager for some shared glory or a piece of the enemy, depending on how chivalrous or dreaded each man was.
However, as he drew closer and closer to the engagement, Jan quickly revised his thoughts. It seemed as if the Imperials were losing. Not just losing, but… running away. What had happened? Could he have been there to help turn the tide earlier?
He signaled an Imperial cavalryman, running past him in the opposite direction. “You there. What is the meaning of this?! There are still enemies to kill! I am here now, with a fresh army!”
The cavalryman took off his helmet and gave Jan a look that he would remember until his dying day.
“Salier has fallen,” he said simply, and galloped away.
Salier fallen? He didn’t know whether he said it to himself or out loud. He, like Conrad, grew temporarily unaware of the battle, lost in his own thoughts. He was, unfortunately, unaware of the his men’s reactions. It cannot be. He is King! He survived two other waves, he personally killed the Sultan that took Jerusalem, he’s been King forever! He can’t just die! But, as more people ran by, screaming the news, harming his army’s morale, he came to the grim realization that it was true.
Before he had any time to think (he had not expected to face an entire army, albeit a blooded one, alone), the remainder of the Horse Lords, triumphant, charged his position.
“Hold them here! Drive them back!” he screamed. “For the King, hold them here!” A dark mass thundered in around him, closing on three sides. “You!” He grabbed the last of the routers passing by. “Where is the body of the King?” The man pointed, somewhat reluctantly, and continued to flee.
“My men, forward! Forward through this mess! Follow me!”
One of Jan’s men game him a look, that, even through his helmet, suggested that his general had lost his marbles. “My Lord, what you are suggesting is suicide! The Reich has already lost one general today, please, don’t make it two!”
“I have to get the body,” Jan said, in a tone that reassured no one. “I owe that much to him. Forward!” Still, no one charged. Jan looked around wildly.
“Forward, or don’t bother coming back to Edessa!” Finally, his escort charged into the dark mass that was bearing down upon them all.
Being mounted, Jan and his men looked down as they rode through the mass. The endless uniformity that was the desert sand that Conrad saw was gone. Instead, they saw death. Footprints, blood, corpses, and live soldiers that were their targets instead filled their fields of vision.
Quickly his men lost their momentum as the mass of the Mongol infantry swarmed them. Almost immediately his men started to drop as they began to fight.
“Don’t fight!” Jan screamed. “Ride! Keep pushing forward! Only kill those that are in front of you! Forward!!!” His voice was at a hysterical pitch by now, and still he kept pushing. Every second he got farther, his men got farther, and they became less. He now realized the folly of his move, the battle was out of his control, he would never reach the body…
But I’ll die trying, he thought, as he felled another enemy with his own sword.
He looked ahead, and gasped, for it was there, but he would never be able to pick it up, it was too heavy and he would never make it back alive…
He arrived at the corpse, reached down, picked up a box, and veered off, and that was it. Time to go back.
Now he had to go through that hellish ride through the enemy all over again, although this time it would be a little easier since his men would be going the same direction as the Horse Lords. It was still a nightmare, however, for he had to view the footprints, blood, corpses (including those of his own escort this time) and live soldiers all over again, his men were screaming, they were going down, he would never make it out alive…
Daylight. He had made it. After putting some distance between him and the horde, he looked back. Nobody else came out.
Shuddering, Jan held the box tightly as he took a look at the situation. All over the place was chaos. The Horse Lords, knowing no fear, were overrunning his men’s positions. Numbers be damned, they would head straight to Antioch and run over all in their way. His men had no chance.
They have momentum and morale, and we have neither, he thought. The day was over. He was kidding himself. He himself had barely survived, the only one in his entire escort to return from that silly suicide mission. He had inspired no bravery in his men, only demoralizing them further, making them think that their general was going off to certain death.
“Withdraw! Withdraw to Edessa!” he panted, repeating the order over and over again until all parties obeyed it. “Withdraw to Edessa! We fight later!”
Some regiments remained, desperately holding off the victorious Horse Lords while the rest of the army escaped the debacle. Jan was not one of them, mindlessly directing his horse west while his head swirled with thoughts.
I came too late, I could have saved him…
…First Fredricus and now the King…
…Outremer is defeated, we can’t face this and survive…
…back to Franconia, surely, as I am no longer protected…
…I came too late, I came too late…
…
He continued in this state, unaware of his surroundings, until his horse, nearly shot from exhaustion, had deposited him at his residence. Jan shook himself to consciousness, paused, and opened the box that he had taken from Salier’s corpse.
Inside it was what appeared to be a crown, made from wood. It looked like a crown of thorns.
Jan collapsed off his horse and landed spread-eagled on the ground, his face to the sky. He slept in that position, on the street, for the next eighteen hours, all of his dreams about locusts.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Battle South of Edessa, 1276
Matthias was in a fell mood. Conrad Salier was dead, a carefully recruited and trained army fell with him, and he had been forced to commit his own army to the fight before he had planned to.
The one consolation was that Kitbuqa the Wrathful's depleted army was still isolated from the rest of the Mongol Horde. Like a wounded animal, it could be separated from the herd, chased down and killed.
Matthias had attacked from the north to cut off the Mongol General's line of retreat back to the Horde. Instead, Kitbuqa had fled south, fearing the numbers of the new army and not wishing to be caught against Edessa and a vengeful Jan von Hamburg.
It had taken a bit of doing to keep Jan back at Edessa, but he and the garrison were in no shape to strike again this year. This would be Matthias's fight, Jan's vengeance would have to come later. The Chancellor pursued the Mongols south into the desert until finally they turned to fight.
Matthias deployed the bowmen in loose formation in front of the infantry line. The Knights were concentrated on the left flank.
Kitbuqa turned to face him. The Mongol Horse Archers galloped forward to exchange missiles with the Pavise Crossbowmen.
Soon every Mongol with a bow was firing on the Imperial bowmen. Matthias smiled grimly, they were taking losses, but the infantry was nearly untouched. Tiring of the long distance battle, Matthias ordered his footmen forward.
The Mongol infantry retreated, trying to stay at arm's length. Ignoring the Horse Archers on the flanks, the infantry line rushed forward, with the middle units attacking the Mongol Lancers and Kitbuqa's bodyguard.
Matthias gave a terse order to his bugler, and a single note pierced the din of battle. The unengaged infantry, which had passed the Mongol General, pivoted and charged into the melee, striking from the flanks and rear.
Kitbuqa, after a fierce resistance, was rolled over by his horse when an Imperial spearman killed the animal. With his left leg crushed, he was easily captured.
Many of the Mongols units remained on the field fighting, but they were isolated and leaderless. Imperial foot and cavalry hemmed them in and they were destroyed. Only 27 of the 751 Mongol warriors were able to flee.
After the battle, Matthias approached the prisoners. Kitbuqa the Wrathful must have been fearsome when whole, but the man before him on a pallet with a shattered leg was pitiful.
Matthias knelt and asked, "Where is the body of Conrad Salier?"
Kitbuqa looked up, his face a mix of pain and anger, "Your King died like a pig! You think you can stop us? We will kill you all!"
"We did stop you", Matthias replied, ice in his voice, "And if one of us falls two will take his place."
Matthias grasped the Mongol's shattered leg and tightened his grip. A gout of blood leapt up as Kitbuqa screamed.
"I ask again, where is the body of Conrad Salier?"
The Mongol moaned and whispered, "I took his head, it is in my saddle bags."
Matthias, with a flick of his hand, sent a guard to check. His gaze swung back to Kitbuqa as he cleaned the blood from his hands.
"Thank you. If it is any comfort, you have inconvenienced me. The destruction of your armies might be pushed back a year."
Matthias drew his dagger, placing it underneath the Mongol's chin. He stared into the man's eyes as Kitbuqa began swearing wildly.
"Of course, it will matter little to you."
Never breaking his gaze, Matthias thrust his dagger up into the Mongol's brain.
King Salier was avenged, the Reich's honor regained, but this was only the beginning.
Matthias spoke over the dead body of his enemy, "I shall give thanks for the hardships we bear, for they serve to purify the soul."
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Second Battle South of Edessa, 1280
Isolate and destroy. That was the plan. Of course the same plan had been used outside Edessa, with horrific results. Still, the Mongols had left themselves open to attack, their three remaining armies were spread out. It was time to strike. So Matthias found himself under a beating sun, south of Edessa, close to where Kitbuqa had met his end. This Mongol Army, however, was led by Khan Kuo Kan himself and was not worn down.
Matthias had the main army, and King Jan had promised to meet him with the Edessa garrison. Matthias kept looking to his left, hoping to see his reinforcements on the horizon, but none were to be found.
Matthias had a sinking feeling. The same thing had happened to King Salier. He scowled, throwing aside such a defeatist thought. One down, three to go, isolate and destroy.
Matthias seemed to catch the Mongols in column, but his own army would have to be moved to exploit this.
"To the crest of the dune, Schnell!", bellowed Matthias to his men. Without an advantage in height, the Imperial crossbowmen would be outclassed by the sheer weight of the Mongol's archers.
Though Matthias worried about exhausting his men in the desert, the high ground needed to be taken. His men, panting in the heat, barely made it into position before the Mongols.
The Mongols chose to exchange arrows with the Imperials instead of rushing the line. Matthias was pleased that seizing the heights, along with the loose formation of the bowmen, made sure the Reich came out ahead in that trade.
Looking to his left after a few tense minutes, Matthias saw more Imperial banners.
Jan's late arrival was fortuitious, or the King knew what he was doing, for the Mongols had commited to Matthias's army. Arrow bit, they redeployed to face the vengeful King of Outremer.
Matthias was all set to lead his men down to join the fray, but the Khan must have anticipated this, for he sent his horse archers to screen his new flank.
Matthias swore quietly. He would take losses, some from his own arrows, if he marched his own infantry forward now. He decided to let the crossbowmen continue to do their work.
The Khan, free to manuever for the moment, advanced his main force on the garrison of Edessa.
Clever, thought Matthias, but not clever enough. The Mongol's screen had been decimated. Time to move.
"Infantry advance! Cavalry, take out the artillery!"
Advancing his own retainers, Matthias noticed with alarm that Jan and several of his militia spearmen had engaged the Khan and his bodyguard ahead of the King's main line. Matthias knew from Prinz Elberhard that those men fought like demons. He would not have another death on his hands, not if he could help it.
Lowering his helm, Matthias ordered his retainers to charge.
Matthias and his bodyguard joined the melee swirling around the Khan and King.
Matthias's charge finished the job begun by Jan. The Khan's bodyguard was shattered.
As before, a lowly spearman struck the blow against the man himself.
The infantry arrived and swarmed among the remaining Mongols. Matthias found a bloody Jan and his few remaining retainers.
"Two down, two to go. Shall we finish this?"
The King and Chancellor rode back into the fray. The remaining Mongols fought on, but were eventually routed.
There were a few survivors, but they would not trouble the Reich again.
The Butcher's Bill
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Damascus 1280
Karl awoke from his bed it was late afternoon. He was still recovering from his illness and was trying to get his mobility back. He was becoming a very proficient horseman here in the desert but it had been sometime since his illness and he was still digesting the news around him. He could not travel back to Rome for the last Diet session.
He began to eat and enjoy the strong hot drink of the region. He sipped his coffee and thought this is only real material wealth worth possessing out here. Servants and aides have been in and out of his room not recognizing any but a familiar face walked in Peter with a mild concern showing.
“Good to see you up sir, they say you are on the mend and looking well said Peter.
“And I see you are not? What’s on your mind?” as Karl spoke he walked to the window. “Is it the trade I do not see much activity in the market square.”
“Well yes…” Peter replied thinking of a way to bring up the news. “It’s the [Sacrens, a mad one at that sir, al Muazzam, an Egyptian General. He’s sort of interrupted things here.”
“Not a damn siege? How many men?” exclaimed Karl scanning the horizon looking for enemy units or siege equipment.
“Well sir, 91” replied Peter wishing to hide after giving his answer.
“91!” shouted Karl. “91 men are shutting down this city, maybe this Egyptian is not has mad as you say. We are the mad ones to let this happen. Call the units I want all the men mustered it’s been a while for all of us. We go out at nightfall and end this madness.”
Peter left quickly with the orders.
********
Evening at the witching hour
Karl assembles his men at the gate. It is mainly cavalry archers he had the only horse unit and there would be al Muazzam bodyguard unit. Hopeful his crossbowmen and the towers do the most of the work.
“Move out! Stay within the walls for protecting and see what they do. Hopefully they will run. Ingo the Teutonic Knight and the other trusted advisor of Karl rode close to his commander knowing it has been some time since the general had ridden.
The units formed up as ordered and the Egyptians Archers moved in with the bodyguard unit staying back of missile range.
“Oh for the love of ….. they are going around dancing in a damn circle” shouted Karl to Ingo “ how I wish for another cavalry unit. We have to lure them closer”
“Bring up the bowmen” yelled Ingo to the captain. Karl desperately wanted to charge at them but al Muazzam was staying cautiously back from the fray.
“He’s coming!!! There coming in, archers watch and ready!” yelled Ingo.
Karl watched the Egyptian General come into his militia spearmen. That’s it.
“General’s Bodyguard, CHARGE!!!!” shouted Karl
The units clashed but the Egyptians had the upper hand they pulled out from the spear men and Karl’s unit chased. It was a trap! They were too far out for cover and the Germans started falling. Karl was drained in the short time on the horse. The armour was heavier then he remembered He could not longer keep his sword up to swing. He couldn’t speak.
“FALL BACK! FALL BACK!” yelled Ingo has he impaled men protecting his General.
The unit got behind the archers they were less then half strength. There was far more Egyptian horse to deal with.
Then al Mouazzam made his error. In his initial victory he pursued the German horsemen to the line and was hit by the lines of spearmen who then enveloped the unit. Now the defenders had the upper hand. The Egyptian General unit was decimated yet he escaped with the few remaining men.
The Egyptian Archers quickly followed suit and the battle was over. However, the casualty count was too high for Karl’s liking. At least the city was freed.
At sunrise the clean up had begun and a captain approached the Count.
“Prisoner report sir, only two members of al Muazzam’s body guard unit. Your orders sir?”
“Bring them to me, now!”
“Yes, sir” stammered the surprised Captain. The Count never wished to see the prisoner’s. The two men were collected and brought before Karl.
“On your knees” Karl said calmly. The sun was behind Karl rising over the hill the men were frighten Karl was but a shadow they could here his voice that was very calm and soft. Karl reached deep with in his breast plate and pulled out a very neatly folded cloth.
Peter and Ingo recognized the cloth immediately as the Cloth of Veronica that Karl kept with him in his illness. It was unusual for him to carry the priceless artifact with him.
The Egyptians watched but could only see his shadow, they could see his arm movements and saw the Count’s arms reach around his waist belt and then both his arms reached in to the air. They could hear liquid being poured…..
“I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost” with a swoop of his hand Karl swiped the cloth across their foreheads in the motion of the cross.
“Go you are free men in the name of the Lord. Go tell al Muazzam that you will no longer fight for him and that it is senseless to continue to fight with the Army of the Outremer. He should lay down his arms and return home. Go spread the Good News.”
The witnesses were speechless.
Final Cost.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Northern Germany, 1282:
Siegfried was shivering, although he tried not to show it. The cold of the north felt unnatural after the years he had spent under the mild mediterranean climate. His Army was supposed to be near Rome, not out here in the North. But then there was not yet any Franconian Army in the viccinity so it fell to him to defend the northern boder of his former house against the Danes, whom he much to thank for.
The forces arrayed against him were few in numbers, but he was curious to find out the effectiveness of these handguns first-hand. He deployed in the usual fashion and decided to advance on the enemy quickly, lest those new fire weapons proved to be as devastating as the rumours he had heard.
The Danish advanced too and immediatelly received a volley of bolts from the Imperial Pavise Crossbows. Siegfried chuckled to himself as another volley hit the Handgunners. His foot soldiers were already closing in on the men, while his cavalry had made a large sweep around the enemy. The Handgunners hadn't fired a single shot yet and already their men were falling to Imperial bolts.
Siegfried watched from afar as his infantry engaged the Handunners, who started fleeing towards a small wood behind them. The rest of the Danish troops, one unit of Spearbearers, tried to hold of the Imperial onslaught, but it was to no avail. They were quickly butchered, while the cavalry did the same to the Handgunners until they fled in earnest.
Some devastating new weapons, thos handguns must be. The enemy hadn't fired one single shot. So much for this deadly new invention called gunpowder.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
West of Edessa, 1282 AD
Prelude
"Send this order to the chancellor's army. Speak to the regimental commanders and inform them that they will leave for my position immediately and be replaced by several of my own regiments."
Adalberth saluted when he left Hans' command tent and had embarked with 5 regiments of crossbows, 2 regiments of sergeants and 1 regiment of footknights, all of which were recently recruited and generally had been poorly equipped.
Now, on his march back south, he brought with him 6 regiments of veteran crossbows, and well equipped veteran sergeants and footknights. Hans would be pleased he thought, and it was quite a peculiar interpretation of the chancellor's orders indeed...
Meanwhile, Jan had gotten word from Hans that his attendance was welcomed to the west, but that he was only to bring 1 regiment of halberd militia. Jan had certainly been perplexed when he received said order, but considering it was likely approved by the chancellor, that was what he did.
Preparation
Hans rode across the camp, shouting inspiring words at his men, how the empire had defeated the last two waves of Mongols and how with god's blessing and the holy grail, they would emerge victorious without a doubt. Of course, he also told stories of his past victories, and how individual bravery would win the day.
He was more than happy that he had finally been granted an army mostly of his choosing to face the foes he came to Outremer for now over 40 years ago. He had embarked at the end of his own chancellorship, but was delayed by every chancellor along the way, including Matthias, who preferred to keep him out of the attack during the second wave. But now, now was the time he would finally face the foes that he had only commanded men against, yet not led them personally.
As he surveyed his troops, he realized how little cavalry he had been supplied with. This greatly dampened his mood, as Hans' tactics relied on heavy cavalry use to flank and overwhelm foes in battle. In fact, he was not too apt at commanding an entire force of footmen, but he could not let this influence his men. Today, he would need to double his bravery.
The battle
Hans and his forces had been pursuing the Mongols army to the nearby river at Edessa, where the Khan's force was camped. However, before he would be able to strike at it, he would have to eliminate the Khanza, who held a small dune nearby. Hans had chosen not to attack at night, unlike previous encounters, as scouting reports indicated the Khan's army was watering their horses still, and this was the most opportune time to strike - in broad daylight.
As expected, there were no signs of the Khan's army as Hans marched his men across one of the sandy hills, face to face with the Khanza and his army.
However, he certainly could not be far, as word must have reached the force by now and the men be on their way. Hans would only have several minutes to defeat the force in front of him before it would be supported. Possibly a few more, as the Khan had brought artillery, which was slow and difficult to carry on sandy terrain.
Thus, he commanded his crossbowmen to advance forward, down the slope in an attempt to lure the enemy into sending their men forward for the slaughter. hans was not surprised that the Mongols willingly did so, at the cost of a third of their army, that was left for dead on the field, until they decided to withdraw further up the hill, as word of nearing reinforcements reached the Khanza.
This left Hans with a difficult choice he had to make. Either he would have to continue his current tactic, allowing the enemy to get into a better position or become more mobile by losing only its infantry, or he would have to advance, taking higher casualties than he would have liked.
Hans decided for the latter, bold as he was, to finally have a go at the Mongols himself - and to his utter surprise, at the advance of his crossbows, not a lancer, but the mounted archers came crashing into their ranks.
Upon recovering from the shock, Hans consciously ordered all men forward to form a line behind the crossbows, who he commanded to hold the line regardless. He could not afford their retreat to break the ranks of the other regiments or even dishearten them.
It was only shortly after, that Hans realized he had made the right choice, as the Mongol heavy cavalry accelerated toward his position, blocked by the heavy pavise shields and countered by his many spears and swords. It was also then, that he heard Adalberth shouting how Jan's small force had been spotted nearby.
As soon as he noticed the Khanza leaving the safety of his archers to crash into the German center, Hans told Jens "Go Jens, there are the men you waited to slaughter for so long. Flank and charge into the Khanza's rear, break their force and kill as many as you wish!" Jens only slid down his visor, lifted his sword and gallopped away as ordered, cussing to his men to ride faster.
As Jens hacked and slaughted his way through countless horsemen, he finally spotted the Khanza and let out a loud roar as he charged towards him - only to see the Khanza stabbed by a footknight and falling off his horse. "#§"%§! He was mine you imbecil!" But no one heard him and so he let out his anger at the few remaining Mongol cavalry, that fled the field.
With the Khanza's death, the Mongol cavalry dissipated and rode for their lives, but the infantry merely retreated towards the Khan's position, knowing that their feet would not carry them far enough before they would be hung as traitors.
As Hans and Jens chased down the footarchers where they could see them under the burning desert sun, Hans shouted orders to his captains to have the infantry advance up the hill near the Khan's army in slow march. The captains looked at Hans as if he had gone mad, but Hans only repeated, that the infantry was to march slowly up the hill, at any cost, regardless of missile fire, and was not to pursue a single Mongol without his express orders. The captains reluctantly rode off and conveyed his orders, not without being received with headshakes.
While the infantry was taking some casualties as standing targets for the Mongols to shoot at, Jan, who had now joined Hans and Jens chased down the harassing archers, while keeping a close eye on the main Mongol center.
It was then, that they noticed the straggling trebuchets, and under Hans orders, advanced with him to remove that threat before it would claim too many Imperial soldiers.
Meanwhile, even the exhausted crossbows had reached the hill crest and were preparing to rain deadly bolts upon the Mongols, but the Mongol center was closing in rather dangerously, but not without surprise at the well formed Imperial infantry line, that had held out so long under constant arrow rain, without breaking.
The Khan was not one to be impressed though, and simply had his cavalry charge the line, believing that it would break upon contact.
However, he was not daft and simulatenously ordered another regiment of cavalry to hold the German generals , preventing them from joining the rest of their men.
Confident at his plan, the Khan then rode his own bodyguard headfirst into the German spearmen, aimed at breaking the line and their will at the same time.
Hans' newly promoted veteran captain Heinrich immediately seized that opportunity and sent footknights and sergeants around the Khan's right flank to cut him off and isolate him.
Hans, Jens and Jan meanwhile were engaged in a fierce battle with the lancers under the Khan's second in command. The lancers would give no quarter and struck hard at the elite German knights, felling countless and leaving all three generals exposed and busy. In the heat of battle, none of them thought of the valiant infantry line, that was fighting for its lives, hopelessly outnumbered.
It was Adalberth shout that woke Hans up from his battletrance.
"Hans! I can see some of our men leaving formation and retreating down the hill. What are your orders?"
Hans motioned for Jens and Jan to continue fighting, while riding back towards the infantry at neckbreaking speed, not once looking back.
The Mongol captain tried to pursue him, but was cut to size by a blow of Jens sword before he managed to catch up.
Hans knew that there was only one way to impress his men to fight on, and that was to be bolder than they were. Without a second thought, he ordered his decimated bodyguard, if one could still call it as such, to charge straight into the Khan's rear while shouting encouraging words at the infantry across from him.
His plan was successful and the line held, while the Khan retreated, cussing at Hans and ordering his archers to aim for him.
However, the Khan would not get too far, while his bodyguard retreated on his orders. He was caught in between several German footmen who had surrounded him.
Not even his returning bodyguard would preserve him from the same fate as his Khanza.
With the Khan's death, Hans knew the battle was over, as all Mongol leaders lay dead on the field. Now, the only reason to fight on was for glory, and that he did want, so he commanded all infantry to advance and hunt the Mongol archers at will.
Meanwhile, in a last ditch effort to save the day, a few horse archers charged into the now unprotected crossbows.
But only to find themselves no match for even an exhausted Imperial crossbowman.
It was at this moment, that the unthinkable occured. Men and horse entangled, chasing down the Mongol archers with a lone archer standing his ground and aiming. And he aimed well, for in a blink of an eye, before a blade would sever his head, his arrow would pierce Jens' breastplate. "Of all the ways to go... *#%! it all." were the last words to escape his aching lungs, as he fell off his horse and was trampled to death by hundreds of Imperial boots.
Struck deep by that blow was not only Jens himself, but also Hans, who had not expected this turn of events, now, that the Mongols were almost in full flight. Jens had been entrusted to his command, and as a fellow Swabian, his death pained Hans dearly. He rose his battleweary arm and swore loudly, urging his men to advance ever faster toward the last few remaining Mongols, who, taken aback by the sudden fury being unleshed unpon them, quickly fled the field now that there was not Khan to hunt them down.
The night
After the battle, Hans unwrapped the grail he had received from his father after the first crusade and prayed. He prayed to the Lord to grant the righteous men of Christ who had fought this day in His name entrance to paradise for their deeds, and relief from the pain of their wounds for those who remained on His land. While his prayers seemed to have been heard, as if by miracle over 600 of the fallen returned to their posts, Jens was not among them. Guilt-stricken and battleweary, Hans could now only hope that the diet would be kinder than the Lord.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
OOC: these are battle reports dating back as for as the death of Jens Von Kassel. Each Battle I've fought will be in a different post as this thread is already doing bad things to my computer when all the pictures are loaded.
The Log book of Gerhard Steffen, on his last Tour of Duty: 1st Entry
Jens Von Kassel had been sent north by Chancellor to help settle the population In some of the northern Italian cities, he never made it. A russian Diplomat had requested a meeting, thinking it would be the standard, rather absurd, demand for money and a ceasfire Jens wasn't looking foreward to wasting his time trying to understand the diplomat through his thick accent. What awaited Jens was something completely different, an offer of florins, more than Jens could ever had imagined. He accepted, and made his way towards the Italian coast, hoping to hire a mercinary ship and spend his days on the beaches of Ibeza, or Belares.
Jens Von Kassel never got the chance, Duke Gerhard Steffen marched north from Rome, and Athalwolf Von Salza cut off his retreat.
http://img37.picoodle.com/img/img37/...pm_c10b8f7.jpg
On the field of Battle they lined up facing eac other, Jens knew that this would be his burial site.
http://img30.picoodle.com/img/img30/...tm_fbfa493.jpg
"You've got no chance Von Kassel, you are disgracing Otto!!! Give up and face trial, you may avoid death," Duke Steffen yelled as his troops moved to surround Jens.
"We both know that it's by the sword here or by the gallows in Rome, Steffen. Come Get me!" Jens hollered back.
http://img26.picoodle.com/img/img26/...gm_0ddfe0e.jpg
'Hhhmmugh' Gerhard Grunted, 'Have the spearmen charge, Athalwolf and I will charge him from behind.'
And with that the runner was off, moments later horns blared and the spearmen broke into a run.
http://img38.picoodle.com/img/img38/...am_2b71ee8.jpg
The spearmen hit Jen's bodygaurd with a crash, moments later both Gerhard's and Athalwolf's bodygarud is upon him as well. Gerhard's bodygaurd soon gets bogged down in friendly spears forcing him to with draw. In the confusion Athalwolf finds Jens and with a mighty swing of his sword ends Jens' life.
http://img38.picoodle.com/img/img38/...rm_3c28e74.jpg
http://img27.picoodle.com/img/img27/...bm_07bd3a1.jpg
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Log Book of Gerhard Steffen on his last Tour of Duty: 2nd Entry
"Where do they say they are from?" Gerhard Steffen asked Erik Von Stackelberg, his most expirenced and trusted Bodyguard.
"Switzerland, sir." Erik responded.
"Never heard of it, it doesn't matter though, where ever Leopold Erlach is from he's going home in a box. Are the Men from Innsbruck in position?"
"They are sir, everything is set"
"To battle we go then Erik" Gerhard exclaims with gusto, in the back ground orders are yelled, trumpets blair as the columns of men begin marching.
http://img2.freeimagehosting.net/upl...721f77c5b9.jpg
It was an open afair, with Erlach deploying his troops to engare the re-enforcements from Innbruck first, leaving a token force to defend against the main Imperial assult.
http://img2.freeimagehosting.net/upl...a5849cfd00.jpg
Imperial foot are ordered to charge the line while Gerhard Takes his men around the line in a flanking action. Seeing this Erlach charges Imperial spearmen ans is cut down quickly.
http://img2.freeimagehosting.net/upl...26ddf76591.jpg
With Gerhard Behind the lines and thier general dead, the enemy quickly route.
http://img2.freeimagehosting.net/upl...a1f151a5ec.jpg
Butcher's bill:
http://img2.freeimagehosting.net/upl...0a92c2d094.jpg
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Marseille, 1284
All Jens had wanted was to get knighted, Dietrich von Dassel thought. He never wanted to be in Outremer, never wanted any of this. All he wanted was to protect the Reich, and he got death instead.
Dietrich was still shaken by the earlier death of his friend Jens Hummel at the hands of the Horse Lords. Jens had appeared a drunken, loudmouthed looney, and he was to some extent, but the man was more than that. He was a thoughtful, simple man who only wanted to see Swabia and the Reich prosper. The two of them were part of the young generation, the duo that would see Swabia to power and France in the graveyard. Now... now, there was only Dietrich. And he was only a squire going into battle against the hated French.
They were besieging Marseille, a Bavarian possession. But the Bavarians were in Italy, fighting their war against the Sicilians that an Austrian had started. Funny how things work, Dietrich thought. So, they had dispatched him, a Swabian, to help relieve the city.
Dietrich didn't care much that he was assisting Bavaria. A friendship with the Steffens could only help him out later in his career, and besides, he was still fighting the French. They had endangered Swabia since the time of Kaiser Heinrich. And they had to die.
They would die a lot easier if all Imperial forces present were under his direct command, however. The way the battle was set up, the French would have plenty of time to isolate and destroy Dietrich's small force - his own escort and an accompanying regiment of militia merchant cavalry - while the larger, reinforcing garrison got into position. Things were made even worse by the presence of artillery - and lots of it.
"This is the most artillery I've ever seen, or even read about," said Dietrich to some of his men while surveying the battlefield. Indeed, there certainly were many: ballistae, catapults, and trebuchets, all threatening to lay waste to anything and everything in its way from a distance. Luckily, there were none of the new-fangled cannons, but there were more than enough of the "old-style" artillery to make up for it.
"Sir, what should we do?" asked one of Dietrich's retainers. "Should we meet up with the garrison and take command?"
"No," said Dietrich. "Since I am not a knight, they will not recognize me as commander. Such is the way with our arcane laws." He grumbled at the fact that he couldn't take proper command even though a city was in grave danger. "We can't let that artillery stay the way it is. It will destroy half of the garrison before they even get in crossbow range. We need to simply ride around and occupy the artillery while we wait for the garrison to come in and do its work."
One older man, who had seen numerous battles before, piped in. "Sir, isn't that a little risky? They do have forces besides, artillery, you know; crossbows, cavalry, that sort of thing. If they catch us then there'll be trouble."
Dietrich turned around in the sattle and faced the man. "An Imperial possession is in danger against one of our oldest enemies. If we don't go in then the artillery will destroy the garrison and Marseille will fall. Now, I may not be a knight but I know when to take a risk and when not to, and if you disagree then feel free to leave right now."
The soldier didn't move. It was a good thing that they all had helmets on or otherwise the tension would have escalated. This way, Dietrich didn't know what the man was thinking and just assumed that it would be embarassment. It would be easier for everyone that way.
"Now then, if no one has any other objections... forward!"
Dietrich's men and the merchant militia cavalry charged forward, zigzagging every once in a while to throw off the artillery. Soon, they faced a greater threat - enemy cavalry was coming out to meet them.
"Swing around! Swing around! We can't afford to get in a fight with the cavalry!"
The Imperials angled left, heading for the French flank. They'd managed to outmaneuver the enemy cavalry, but not by much. Captain Hugues had ordered his horsemen to give chase.
Finally, Dietrich had made it to close range and spotted a catapult crew that were angling their machines in the direction of the marching Imperial garrison. "Smash here!" he roared. "Make 'em break and keep going!"
The French catapult crew that had the misfortune of being on the flank abandoned their posts and turned to meet the cavalry about to smash into them. They braced themselves for the crushing blow. When it came, they died quickly but did not break. Cursing, Dietrich snarled. "Surround them!" he screamed. "Kill them quickly!"
His men trampled up mud in the rain, working to follow their commander's orders. They didn't do it fast enough, however, as the fray was joined. Another crew, this time working a ballista, abandoned their posts to help out. Finally, the swiftest of the French cavalry finally caught up. Now is was Dietrich's men that were surrounded.
"Punch a hole out!" he yelled. "Punch a hole out through the crews! Ride like hell, men!" There was a flurry of movement. Steel was flashing, blood splashing, and horses galloping as the Imperials tried to punch their way to the rear of the French line, desperate not to get swallowed up. Captain Hugues ordered another crew, this time trebuchets, to help out and stop them, it didn't look good, militia merchant cavalry were going down fast, the Imperials were drowning, and then...
Air. They had broken through.
"Forward!" Dietrich screamed. "Let's put ourselves together for a minute!" His escort went deeper into the French rear, desperate for some breathing room, but they were the only ones. The merchant militia cavalry, the ones who had taken the brunt of the encirclement, were headed the other way. They were going in the direction of the garrison.
"Great," he mumbled. "Just great..."
He counted up his own men. He had gone in with 31 retainers, counting himself. Most had gotten out alive, which seemed to be the first thing that had gone right in this battle. Considering their numbers and their armor, they could still make serious trouble for the artilley crews.
"Ride around to the other flank! Take out the trebuchets, they're the nastiest! Let's give those frogs something to remember!"
There was no cheering from the men; instead, a grim determination to get things done. They had proven themselves more able than the other regiment of cavalry and now they were about to pay for it.
They smashed into a crew manning two trebuchets that weren't quite prepared for the cavalry. Dietrich roared in triumph as he began striking them down in great numbers. However, this would be a short-lived triumph. He happened to catch a glance west and cursed. Once again, the French cavalry had caught up.
"About face," he said in a half-yell, half-sigh. "We'll never survive against that if we don't meet it head on. Ready... CHARGE!!!"
The twenty-something men of Dietrich's escort met the fifty four Mercenary Frankish Knights head on in a very noisy melee. Dietrich now could not be bothered with occupying the artillery. The garrison was closing in and now his men were fighting for their own survival.
At first, it looked like the Imperials had the upper hand. Two, no - three Frankish Knights went down in a hurry. However, the numbers quickly began to tell. Dietrich's escort was quickly swarmed - not surrounded, but it was close - and they began to lose men of their own. They were down to twenty-five, then twenty, then fifteen - Dietrich screaming to kill them faster, to remember what they learned in training - ten, then nine...
Then, it was over. The French broke off.
"Sir, do we follow?" A beleagured knight, armor scratched and dented in numerous places, looked up at his commander.
"What, are you nuts? What happens if they turn back around and decide to engage us? No, count this as a blessing. We can still kill the artillery, so let's do that! Forward!"
The men returned to cutting down the artillery crews for a third time, although it was a bit harder and they had to play a little more defense than they were used to. Dietrich watched with bemusment as first the rest of the cavalry, then the crossbowmen, followed in the Mercenary Frankish Knights' path.
Eventually, they all came to realize that cutting down the artillery for the sake of protecting the garrison was useless, since the garrison had arrived.
Cutting down the artillery because it was fun... that was a different story. Together, he and the garrison's cavalry, including a rallied merchant militia cavalry, pursued and caught most of the routers that had stayed with their pieces until it was too late. The only men that escaped were the men who had fled beforehand; the French horses and crossbowmen.
"Bloody cowards," Dietrich said after the battle. "Typical of the French to save their own necks and leave their comrades to die." He pointed to the group of French prisoners, mostly artillerymen, all tied up nearby.
"Sir, what shall we do with them? I can prepare some paper and draft a ransom demand."
"No need," Dietrich said to the scribe. "Kill them now. If we let them go then they'll just do this thing again and next time there might not be anyone to stop them before they get to the walls. The only good Frenchman is a dead Frenchman."
He walked out of the room, leaving 241 French soldiers to their deaths. Today I saved Marseille and purged the world of some French, Dietrich thought. Not a bad day at all.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Relief of Jerusalem, 1284
“You come back safe, you hear me?”
Elberhard nodded, almost reluctantly.
He begrudged having to take orders from his wife; having to second guess his own actions and having to restrain his martial instincts.
But despite these resentments, the Prinz did not protest. In truth, it was not just his wife. Although the Reich seemed to be at its most pre-eminent, Elberhard could sense an oppressive feeling in the air - almost as if the Empire was under siege.
Quite what accounted for this feeling, the Prinz did not know. Perhaps it was the recent death rate among the Reich’s finest generals. Perhaps it was the exodus of generals from Outremer or even the recent languor in the Diet. But right now, something deep inside Elberhard told him that Linyeve was right - his priority was to endure and ride out whatever fortune would throw at him.
“One more thing, my Prinz” Linyeve commanded. “I must introduce you to Sir Charles de Villiers. He is an English knight on crusade and an old friend of the family.”
Elberhard turned to inspect the foreigner who had now emerged to stand beside the Princess. Sir Charles was in full plate armour, but gave a low bow before the Prinz.
“I want him to join your retinue; to help keep you safe.”
Elberhard grimaced. “A man does not simply walk into my escort!”
Linyeve walked over to the Prinz and whispered in his ear: “Do this for me, please; for me.”
Elberhard gave Sir Charles another look. The man had a weather-beaten face, like those old crusaders who had arrived with the conquest in Jerusalem and carved a life out for themselves in the harsh deserts of Outremer. The English knight’s armour was burnished, but very well fastened. He was a big man and Elberhard had little doubt the warrior was a veteran of many battles.
The Prinz smiled at Sir Charles: “So, eight centuries after the Romans leave Britain, the Britons come back to serve Rome, eh? Well, you are a loyal @#$%^&!!!er, I will give you that.”
Elbehard paused and looked again at his wife. “Very well, I can always use good men and if my wife vouches for you, that is enough for me. She is usually adept at spotting good men - well aside from @#$%^&!!!ing things up and marrying me, of course.”
Elberhard smiled rakishly at Linyeve, saluted her and turned to ride off to battle.
*****
“So what’s the situation?” Elberhard asked his mercenary captain, Kachig Iskyan.
“The Egyptian army besieging Jerusalem is of medium size, comparable to our own. But it is high quality - comprised almost exclusively of shock troops - Tabardariyya. Captain Arrigus of the Jerusalem garrison has promised to march to our aide with a larger force, although I suspect it includes many militia.”
“Good.” said Elberhard. “We will deploy on this high ground, between this outlying village and the farm.”
Kachig looked concerned: “Sire, if we try to hold them on our own, they will destroy us. We lack any knights but the men in your escort and Sir Jan’s Teutons.”
Elberhard looked irritated. “Just get your crossbowmen deployed. We will play this one by ear.”
The Imperial army deployed as the Prinz ordered. The Egyptian army approached from the east, eight regiments of Tabardariyya moving on remorselessly. Kachig’s two regiments of pavisse crossbowmen soon began cutting down the Mohammadans, but made little impression given the sheer numbers of the enemy infantry. Over head, the siege engines of the Egyptians fired flaming ammunition at the Imperial battleline. Elberhard whinced as the trebuchet rounds crashed around him. The enemy were slowly finding their range.
“@#$%^&!!! this!” sad Elberhard abruptly. “Pull back! Jan - move the infantry back. Kachig - your crossbowmen will form the rearguard. We will pull back and join with the Papal forces before engaging.”
Jan, the Teuton looked bewildered at the Prinz: “Sire, the army of Jerusalem approaches from the north. If we pull back west now, we move further away from them. We will condemn them to fight the infidels alone!”
Elberhard growled at his Teuton Captain: “I said pull back, @#$%^&!!! it!”
Jan stubbornly persisted: “Sire, this is a matter of the Reich’s honour - of our standing in the Holy Father’s eyes!”
Elberhard glared fiercely at the Teuton and then barked: “Pull back!”
The Prinz knew that a frontal engagement between his four regiments of spearmen and eight regiments of the Egyptian shock troops would last only a few minutes and then he would have no army left. He had to fight smart or his army would be simply overrun.
As the Imperial main line began to withdraw, a fiery trebuchet shot smashed into on the regiments of armoured sergeants. Elberhard’s determination to pull back was reinforced when he inquired about the casualties from that single shot and was told that it killed seventeen of his men.
But Jan was also correct: the Prinz’s decision to pull back fatally exposed the Papal army. The Imperials had to march around the farms on their left, moving west, north and then east. The Egyptians did not pursue, but instead turned directly north and marched towards the Papal army fast approaching them. The Imperial army was consigned to be mere onlookers to a frontal engagement between these two foes.
The Prinz noticed that, for some reason, the Egyptian siege engines did not follow the main enemy force towards the Army of Jerusalem.
“Jan!” barked Elberhard.
The Teutonic rode up, guardedly, perhaps expecting some rebuke for his earlier questioning of the Prinz’s orders.
“The Egyptians have left behind a detachment. Be a good lad and take your regiment and see to it.”
Jan face lightened and broke into a smile. Eagerly, the Teuton smiled and reared his horse, preparing to gallop in the direction of the unguarded Egyptian siege train.
*****
Elberhard strained to see what was happening in the melee between the Egyptian and Papal forces, but his eyes were not good enough.
“Kachig, tell me what you can see.”
The Armenian peered into the distance, trying to make out banners and livery through the dust.
“The standard of Captain Arrigus has fallen.” Kachig said quietly, crossing his chest.
Elberhard looked around in frustration, at the Imperial forces slowly trekking through the heat. “March on, faster you @#$%^&!!!s”
When the Prinz turned back to watch the battle between the Papal forces and the Egyptians, it was clear even to his eyes what was happening. The Egyptians were streaming forward; the Papal men fleeing across the line. Elberhard could scarcely believe it - he had come here to support an allied army of 1200 men, now, after a few minutes of combat, that army did not exist any more. Fast moving Mamluks were now rampaging across the battlefield, hunting down the routing Papal forces.
“@#$%^&!!! it!” he roared out to his escort, “With me, ride with me!”
The Egyptians saw the Imperial army approach from the West. The Prinz’s escort of veteran knights was at fore, charging down hill. A regiment of Tabardariyya turned and ran forward to meet the Germans, axes raised.
The Imperial knights hacked into the Egyptian infantry, but the Tabardariyya were stubborn and did not yield. Sir Charles called out to the Prinz:
“The Mamluks, my Prinz! They are coming!”
Elberhard turned round and saw the Egyptian heavy cavalry charging towards his escort, which was still locked in combat with the Tabardariyya
The Prinz turned back to Sir Charles and in his eyes, it was almost as if Elberhard could hear his wife’s voice.
“@#$%^&!!! it!” Elberhard cursed and then called out to his men, hurriedly. “Disengage, pull back!”
Frantically, the Prinz’s escort extricated themselves from the melee with the Tabardariyya and headed back to the Imperial spearmen, still marching towards the battle. The Mamluks pursued, their lighter horses gaining on the ponderous German mounts. But when the Mamluks had come close enough to the Imperial infantry, Elberhard turned about and rode in among the enemy. Caught between German knights and German spears, the elite Egyptian horsemen were destroyed. As the general commanding the Egyptian force was among the Mamluks, this engagement began to swing the battle back towards the Catholics.
The battle then devolved into a game of cat and mouse, played between the Tabardariyya and the mounted German knights - Elberhard’s escort and Jan’s Teutons. The Germans would charge the Egyptian infantry, inflicting heavy losses on them. But then, as the knights’ impetus waned and the Egyptian’s two handed axes began to bite, the Germans would break off and withdraw.
In the end, the Imperial army prevailed and the leaderless Egyptians were routed. But half the German knights lay dead and of the allied army, only a single Papal regiment of crossbowmen remained.
Hundreds of Tabardariyya were captured. Although he feared the consequences of releasing such formidable fighters, Elberhard honoured their bravery by letting them go. He hoped that by such actions, the endless conflict that seemed to be Outremer’s future could at least be fought with decency and, who knows, perhaps even brought to a peaceful conclusion. But for the moment, the Prinz was grateful merely to have endured and to be able to return to Linyeve.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Battle for the Adana Frontier, 1288
With the Mongols defeated, Chancellor Matthias turned his attention to the other threats to Outremer. The Prinz would guard the southern approaches and Jerusalem, but Matthias saw another threat to the north, the Turks. For too long, they had taken advantage of the Reich's focus on the Horse Lords to move unhindered through Imperial territory. In fact, their incursion between Adana and Antioch in 1278 had nearly collapsed the defenses of Outremer and delayed the efforts against the Mongols. Only a last minute shift of Count Hans's army had parried that thrust.
Matthias had moved northeast of Adana to deny any further use of Imperial territory to the Turks and keep them from reinforcing Caesarea. Imperial sovereignty and a sense of duty to aid the Byzantines demanded this. The Chancellor and his army found themselves facing Kasim of Kabul and a Turk army northeast of Adana in a valley that had long served as a transit route for them.
The Army of Outremer was outnumbered, but not outclassed. Matthias and his men had honed their skills against the Scourge of God. These little cousins from the Steppe would be vanquished as well. Matthias attacked during the night. Taking note of the terrain, he decided to have his men seize the high ground on his right flank.
A lieutenant objected to this, claiming that running the army up to the high ground would exhaust them. The Chancellor replied, "Either we take the hill, or they do. Which would you prefer, running up the hill and fighting down it, or walking and fighting up it?"
The man quickly relented and followed his orders. The night attack and speed of the Chancellor's advance seemed to confuse the Turks, and they made no move to take the hill themselves.
The next half hour would go down in the military annals of the Reich as the "Adana Turk Shoot". The Pavise Crossbowmen emptied their quivers into the roiling mass of men in valley. A few furtive assaults by the Turks up the hill were repulsed by withering missile fire. By the time the crossbowmen had finished their work, half the enemy force lay dead. A Teuton in the Chancellor's retinue expressed some disgust at this mechanistic and repetitive slaughter of men, to which the Chancellor replied, paraphrasing an earlier Bavarian General, "Why stab a man, if he'll throw himself on your knife?"
With the bowmen out of ammunition, the Chancellor ordered his army down the hill to finish the Turks. The army went down both sides.
The left flank.
The right flank.
Envelopment and destruction.
Kasim of Kabul, having doomed his men with indecision, fled the field. He was one of the few Turks to make it out of the battle. Perhaps wishing that no one would hear of his incompetence, he refused a ransom offer. The survivors were put to the sword.
Chancellor Matthias moved further east after the victory and built a watchtower near the border with the Turks. This was Imperial land, it had been claimed, consecrated in the blood of the fallen, and it would be defended.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
“So, they tell me your name is Becker?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well Becker, if you’re to marry my Contzel I need to know what you plan to do as my son-in-law.”
Becker paused, going over the words in his head again.
“Quickly boy, I’m an old man. I don’t want to die before hearing your answer.”
With that jolt, he spoke.
“I want to leave a legacy, either a son to carry on my name, or a people who will remember me as a worthy ruler.”
“And how to do plan to do that?”
“When I receive a county, I plan to embrace the role of governor and administrator whole-heartedly. I will live amongst my people, and become one of them. Hopefully the lord will bless us with a son along the way.”
“You have no desire to go to war?”
“I will do what is required of me, but I have no interest in fighting wars for the sake of foreign lands.”
The man smiled at this.
“I see. Perhaps the Reich could use someone who isn’t all ambition and glory...”
***
It was with a heavy heart that Edmund Becker recalled that conversation, just east of Budapest.
When they reached the Hungarians, he found that the battlefield would take place right next to a Monastery.
“Would that I were Prague, overseeing the construction of such buildings.”
The Hungarian force was small, but elite. In a straight fight Becker would have had considerable trouble, but with ample crossbowmen and cavalry the battle could be won easily.
“Crossbowmen!” Edmund shouted. “Fire at will!”
The enemy were not fools, and moved with all possible speed to come to grips with the Austrians. But the crossbowmen did their work well cutting down scores of men. Soon the Hungarians had reached the line.
“Infantry, forward!”
At Becker’s command the Austrian spearmen surged forward through their spread out comrades, and began battle with the Hungarian knights.
“Cavalry, from the left!”
The Knights of the second Austrian Household army advanced quickly around the Imperial left. They made their presence known, and decisively.
After having endured arrow, foot and horse the Hungarians finally began began to crack.
Captain Georgius was able to escape the melee, though that did not save him.
The battle was over quickly and decisively.
Eager to move onward, Edmund made a quick decision about the prisoners. “Talk to the Hungarians and see if they’re willing to pay for their countrymen’s safe return. Hopefully some of the money will find it’s way to Prague.”
***
After a few days of marching west, they reached the rebel army.
Although the rebels were more numerous than the Hungarians, they were inferior. Becker deployed his men on the top of a hill to once again force his enemy to come to terms.
“Open fire!” shouted Becker.
Edmund was content to watch the carnage, but it soon became apparent that the rebels were trying to flank him.
“Tell everyone to wheel clockwise! Quickly!”
Soon the army moved with what speed it could muster to face the enemy.
Fortunately it was successful, and many of the rebels fled immediately upon contact.
Things were made easier when the Brigand Captain fell to an Imperial blade.
Soon the rebels were running for the hills, and the battle was over.
The Knights captured as many as they could, but a scant few were still able to escape justice.
Edmund sighed contentedly once the battle was over.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Placeholder for the battle on the road to Jedda
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
“My lord, what have I done to deserve this?”
Fourteen catapults and over four hundred polish nobles stood in his way. Attack the catapults, and the Nobles will through javelins at you before attacking from behind. Attack the nobles, and be denied battle as the maneuver away from real combat while javelin and flaming rock reign down upon the army. And then there was the two regiments of spear militia.
Though Edmund had them outnumbered, the Crossbowmen would not be much help. They were useless in melee, and would not survive against either the nobles or the catapults on their own. These were his thoughts as he observed the enemy.
“I see they’ve set up all their footmen in the center, with cavalry placed on each flank. Right then. Our best course is to move as quickly as possible to attack the catapults, and force the nobles to come to their aid. We’ll be at our best if they aren’t able to use their ranged weaponry. All units, forward double time!”
With a start the army lurched forward.
Becker braced himself for fiery attacks, but surprisingly they didn’t come. To his surprise, all the siege engineers had abandoned their catapults and withdrew backwards and to their right, all the while the Polish Nobles had moved to their aid. Javelins were flying, causing large casualties. By the time the Germans had reached the catapults, a regiment of soldiers was already routing.
As usual, Imperial steel gave a good account of itself. The soldiers in the melee killed scores of enemies, whilst the archers wrecked havoc on targets of opportunity. But Polish numerical superiority was becoming overwhelming. A few units of artillerists and Polish Nobles managed to slip behind the line and engage Becker and another of knights.
Meanwhile, a fierce battle was being waged on the hill before Edmund with Wilhelm fighting valiantly at the forefront.
During a lull in the fighting, Edmund consulted with one of his adjutants.
“What’s our status?”
“We’re giving them hell sir, but they’re still getting the best of us. Half the men are gone, and the battle could go either way.”
Either way. Those archers were still useless, and the infantry didn’t have the numbers or the quality to survive being surrounded. Maybe if he had been more thoughtful in his deployment even odds would mean victory, but not here.
“Sound the retreat.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me. Tell everyone to retreat and make way back to Budapest. Where is von Heidelberg?”
The attendant paused to review more information.
“He’s already fled, sir. He’s moving north with the Poles at his heels and is unresponsive.”
“Feh. Well, I suppose we don’t have to worry about him then. All right then, let’s get out of here! All units, fall back! Don’t get caught by those Poles.”
Becker’s guard moved quickly as well, not wanting Polish nobles to close the distance. As he looked around, he saw only a handful of units.
With a glance to his left, he saw something that made his blood run cold.
Poles descending on good Germans like a pack of wolves. For a moment, Edmund forgot about the streets of Prague.
“To the left, to the left! Our brothers are in need of assistance! Let’s show those barbarians that even in defeat the Empire never loses it’s character!”
Becker and his men moved quickly, and Poles in turn noticed the attention and broke off to meet them.
The Poles were badly outnumbered, but they held firm and lasted longer than Edmund would have liked. But for a few moments, Becker used them the outlet for his frustration. Fortunately another opportunity presented itself.
“Here he comes, lads! Let’s show him that The E-“
“-Right, that’s enough. Let’s go!”
As they came down the hill, Becker saw a unit of archers who were aimlessly firing shots over the hill.
“Didn’t you hear me? Get out of here!”
As the got further and further away, Becker glanced behind him.
“At least I’ve got something to be proud of,” Edmund thought as his men made their escaped.
***
The next day, the Becker and the remnants of the 2nd AHA arrived at Budapest. Having set up a temporary headquarters in City Hall, he was at last able to review the numbers.
“What a disaster. Still, this could work to my advantage if Wilhelm-“
He was interrupted by a knock on the door. A man hurried in, dropped a scroll on Edmund’s desk, and left hurriedly. Becker anxiously opened the scroll.
Edmund slouched back in his chair and dropped the scroll.
“I’m finished. I’m going to command this damned army for years. Christ, I hope one of Zirn’s boys decides to come to Austria.”
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Northern France, 1292
My God there are a lot of French.
Duke Scherer had brillantly maneuvered around about a million Frenchmen in order to take the citadel of Caen, a troop center whose products had threatened Swabia and the Reich since God knows when. Caen was Imperial now, but all it seemed to do was increase the enemy's numbers.
A small force was besieging the Citadel, trapping the Duke. A larger force had blocked any attempts at relieving forces and was currently marching on Dietrich von Dassel's army. There were three whole armies around another castle to the south, Angers. They had men down in the south, near Toulouse, and a good-sized army to the northeast, near Bruges. And of course there were smaller forces scattered throughout the damn country, all speaking that ridiculous language, eating frogs instead of proper red meat, and generally infuriating Dietrich just because they existed.
His army, the Second Swabian Household Army (I need a better name for that, Dietrich thought. My boys are worth more than some generic name.) were currently being headed off by one of the many French forces in an attempt to prevent them from reaching Caen and Duke Scherer.
The Germans had more men at their disposal but the French, most "experts" had agreed, were of better quality. Their army consisted mostly of Chivalric Knights, Dismounted Noble Knights with their stupid long weapons, and of course, the Aventurier, the only elite armor-piercing crossbowmen/heavy infantry/shock troops/army cooks in the world.
Wonder if they also provide the carnal pleasure for the army, Dietrich thought with a harsh laugh. But now was not the time for jokes. He was finally in command of a proper army and not just two pathetic regiments of cavalry, out to save the greatest soldier that the Holy Roman Empire had ever produced. It would not be easy, either.
The ground was relatively flat, some of it open and some of it forested. Dietrich deployed far back from the trees, meaning to make every French soldier come out in the open. He saw rustling in the trees ahead, and then calm.
A lone arrow flew out of the forest, falling well short of the Imperial front line. Dietrich's men cheered. They would get a fair battle.
Some minutes later the entire French army came into view, emerging out of the forest, marching directly for the Imperials. Dietrich waited for them to get closer and then gave his first order.
"Crossbows, open fire!"
The volley went in, striking the French front line (Aventurier, Dietrich noted with pleasure) and causing a decent amount of casualties. The enemy army kept pushing forward, and the Imperial crossbowmen got in a second volley without any return fire.
There would not be a third, however. The Aventurier set up, loaded, and got off their first volley, their armor-piercing arrows nullifying the effects of the Imperial pavisses as well as some of the infantry's shields.
"Come on, men! The more we kill of them now the less of them we have to kill in the melee!"
But the Aventurier were slowly gaining the tide. First they spread out into loose formation to minimize casualties and continued firing, doing damage to both archers and infantry.
Dietrich cursed, not particularly caring if anyone heard him. "All right, I guess we can't take much more of this. Men!" he cried, "The French are using the old women's strategy of throwing things at us, not fighting like proper Germans! Infantry! Show them how to fight! Charge!!!"
The Imperial army surged forward, running so as to take fewer casualties. It seemed to take the enemy by surprise.
"We're gonna catch 'em loose!" Dietrich screamed with glee. "They're gonna lose their backbone! HaHA!!!!" Indeed, it seemed that way. The Aventurier, still in loose formation, started breaking for the rear just as the Imperial infantry swarmed upon them, catching the stragglers and destroying them.
"Momentum!" Dietrich shouted to his men up ahead. "Keep pushing and they'll all break! Battle is all about momentum!"
For a second, it seemed to be working. The slower Aventurier were being carved up and overwhelmed, but for every man that was caught the line slowed, allowing more to escape and regroup at the rear. They would tighten up and do their thing, albeit with less-than-full numbers.
Then, the bulk of the French force countercharged. The Imperial line did not get thrown back at the weight of it, which was extremely encouraging. The entire French army had failed to cause a break in the line.
"Let's give our boys some help down there," Dietrich said to the cavalry. "Friedrich! Right flank! Roll 'em up! Otto! My boys! Take the center! MOVE!!!"
Two things happened which turned the tide of the battle. First, Friedrich's regiment of Imperial Knights slammed into the French right flank, which was completely unprotected due to the French cavalry's failed attempt to smash the Imperial center. Second, in the center, the French captain met his demise at the hand of the Imperial armored sergeants, buffed up by the arrival of Dietrich's escort. A minor rout began, causing Dietrich to grin widely.
The fighting degenerated into pockets of resistance. The Aventurier rallied to hold off the Germans and bring back morale to their comrades. Dietrich quickly ordered his infantry to attack, also dispatching a regiment of Imperial Knights to aid them, while his escort and Friedrich's regiment chased down the routers.
"Sir?" An infantryman ran up to Dietrich, who was busy killing the last Chivalric Knight in a regiment.
"What is it?" Dietrich snapped angrily.
"Back at the line... we-we're losing. The Aventurier are hard to kill and one regiment of DNKs are tying up half of our infantry! They refuse to die!"
Dietrich now loudly cursed. "Friedrich! Kill the routers now!" he snarled. "I am going to go back and teach every single one of these *#%!ers a lesson myself! COME ON!!!"
His escort turned around, charged the DNKs, and killed them without mercy. The infantry, battered but finally free, rounded on the Aventurier, who were overwhelmed and finally broke for the rear.
"Nobody gets away!" Dietrich yelled. "Nobody flees!" He had his eyes on an Aventurier regiment some distance ahead, running, missed by the rest of the army.
"They must all die."
It was now a race; the elite Aventurier seeking escape to fight another day, and the vengeful Dietrich determined to hunt them down. Both were tired. Dietrich's men had been riding around and fighting for a while now and his horses were almost pooped. But they pushed on, carried seemingly on Dietrich's willpower alone. And then they caught up, and the Wrath began.
After the battle was over, the casualty count was encouraging. The Second Swabian Household Army, his boys (he still needed to find a better name), had sustained 50% casualties. But only twenty Frenchmen had escaped, and they would never fight again, being too few and disorganized. Caen was still besieged but now it looked manageable.
"Sir?" Friedrich entered Dietrich's tent. "We're waiting for your order on what to do with the prisoners."
"How many did we take?"
"Over three hundred, sir."
Dietrich smiled. "Take me to them."
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
South of Caesarea, 1294
Matthias sat at his camp desk inside his command tent, poring over letters and reports by candlelight. He hadn't realized when he first became Chancellor that the job involved quite so much paperwork. He had imagined marching forth with the Armies of the Reich and crushing Barbarians, but armies needed food, new recruits, boots, weapons, and other endless supplies. Nobles and governors needed to be mollified and motivated. Electors swamped him with requests and demanded reports.
And all this required paper and a great deal of writing. More often than not, Matthias felt like a scribe in a Monastery more than the second most powerful man in the Reich. Even now, on campaign building forts on the frontier, the letters came and went, unceasing. One in particular had caught his eye. The letter was why he was waiting for a visitor past midnight.
A man entered the tent and Matthias looked up, unsurprised. The Chancellor rose to meet him.
"Ah, Strategos Alvanites, please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee?"
The Byzantine General looked around with a blank expression. He sat down opposite the Chancellor.
"No thank you, Domestikos Matthias, all I want, if I may be blunt, is an explanation. Why have you asked me here?"
Matthias sat down at his desk, tapping an opened letter on the wood.
"A fair question, Let us say I am consulting with an ally on the military situation versus our common enemy, the Turks. How goes your campaign against them?"
The Greek stiffened and spoke in a flat town, "As you well know, the drive on Caesarea has. . .encountered set backs. The garrison is quite powerful. The Turks launch spoiling attacks before we can gather enough forces to take their capital."
Matthias nodded, "Hmm, unfortunate, we encountered a similar situation with the French. Unless one keeps hammering away and breaks through to their Castle, they just keep coming. The trick is to force them into a decisive battle and crush their forces before moving on to the stronghold itself."
The Strategos seemed offended by the glib analysis, "It is not as simple as you make it out. We are at the end of our supply lines, to gather a force strong enough to force this battle. . ."
The Greek shrugged, "This is not our only front."
Matthias leaned back in his chair.
"There is a way, my army could assist you."
The General scoffed, "Each time we ask your diplomats for such assistance, they prattle on about the Charter of Outremer and a lack of Edicts. You Germans seem overly concerned with the letter of the law."
Matthias's eyes narrowed. He did not like dealing with this man as an equal.
"You seemed quite happy to take Iconium and Sofia off our hands when our Edicts called for it. And what did you Greeks do then, but sell Bulgaria back to the Hungarians. We Romans might be overly precise, but you Greeks are overly fond of Florins."
The Strategos stood upright, features flushed with indignation.
"You Germans think you run the whole damn world! Enjoy while it lasts, the wheel turns, Domestikos, and you will not always be on top."
Matthias gazed evenly at the man, "Perhaps, but do you want to gut the garrison of Caesarea or not? The Turks are a common enemy."
"How would you do this? I know your Charter prevents you from taking the Citadel yourself. Why would you put your neck out for us?"
Matthias smiled coldly, "Oh, I have no plans of taking the Citadel or violating the Charter. My scouts tell me there is a small Turkish army outside the walls. If your army and mine attack it, the Sultan will be honor bound to assist. Between us we have enough men to crush him. Then, once the deed is done, you could practically walk into the place and finally achieve your goal. I am sure the Basileus would look with grattitude on the man who finally gives him victory."
Doubt and ambition warred in Strategos, "You are still taking a risk, your Diet might frown on this. Why do you do this? You've been in office for 36 years, why help us now?"
Matthias leaned in and spoke quietly, "There are individuals within the Reich who wish to assist your Empire. They have contacted me and asked my help in this matter. I will not be Chancellor for much longer, and I must ensure that I have a comfortable 'retirement'. I have made enemies in office, and I find I will need more friends when I lose my position. Of course, this will also cripple the Turks as well, and focus their attention on saving their capital. With this strike I will aid you, myself and Outremer. A good days work."
The two men discussed their plans well into the night. After the Strategos left, Matthias took the letter he had been holding and held it to the candle on his desk until it caught fire. Dropping it onto a metal tray, the Chancellor watched the flames slowly consume the paper.
"Politics," muttered Matthias to himself as the flames died.
The Battle
The Imperial army deployed in front of the Byzantines. Matthias might have to work with Byzantines, but their military reputation was far from perfect. Better that he take lead.
The Sultan was coming, but first Matthias shifted his forces to the right to face the smaller Turk army and give the Byzantines room to deploy.
Not wanting to exchange missile fire with an inferior foe for long, Matthias ordered his footmen in.
The Imperial line held the enemy, while the Cavalry swept in from the flank to dispatch the deadly artillery.
After that, the first Turkish army quickly crumbled, but Matthias had to call off his men and form them up as the garrison of Caesarea approached.
With the main Turkish force now in the field, the Byzantines attacked from the left of the Imperials. The main Turkish line still faced the Germans.
The two lines exchange missile fire for a time, before the Sultan tired of this and led a cavalry charge. He sought to catch the bowmen out in front, but Matthias ordered his footmen to countercharge.
The Sultans bodyguard, a massive force of 60 picked men, had turned the Imperial right flank, and threatened the crossbowmen there. Of course, that's why Matthias had a cavalry reserve.
The Sultan lost half his men as 150 Knights slammed into his bodyguard. Fleeing the field, he abandoned his men to their fate.
With the Imperial horse unleashed on their infantry and the Turks' leader gone, their organization collapsed. Several units began to run. Matthias sent half his men to pursue the routers and other half to assist the Byzantines.
The Turks were crushed, but the Sultan and a few men made it back to Caesarea.
Matthias didn't really care. The Turks had been bled, the northern border of Outremer would be quiet and he'd held up his end of the deal. Let the Greeks take the city, if they could muster up the courage to finish off a wounded foe.
All in all, it was a good days work.
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Outside Caen, 1296
The command tent was much busier than usual that night, as three generals and their staffs were present discussing strategy among other things, instead of the usual one. It was a rather tight squeeze, but the general merriment of all patrons present made them all forget the rather cramped arrangements.
The three leaders eating, drinking, and debating were Dietrich von Dassel and Friedrich Scherer of the Reich, as well as their ally Prince Hanrrique of Portugal.
"And as a gift from your Mediterranean allies," said the Prince in a mild slur, "Several of our finest bottles of port! May you use them well!" There were several cheers followed by the loud gulping sounds of several people drinking at once.
"And from your, er... large, continental allies," said Duke Scherer in a merry tone of his own, "Many pounds of the Reich's finest beef! May they go well with the port, may they go well indeed!" More cheering accompanied this, several toasts were made, and the feasting began.
"You know," said Prince Hanrrique about halfway through, his mouth full of raw red meat, "You Imperials control half of the continent, are in the process of assimilating several cultures at once, and get lots of spices and other materials from the Greeks and Outremer, and this is the best food you can give me? BAH! Italy's been yours now for generations; where's some of that food, eh?"
"Well, my good Prince," said Dietrich, "We Germans are a warlike, savage people, in case our history since, oh, roughly one thousand years before Christ hasn't taught you." Much laughter, especially overloud guffaws, accompanied this. "We believe that there is no better pre-battle meal than red meat, taken forcibly from an animal that was conquered by our superior hunters. Kind of gets us in the mood."
"You make a good point," said Hanrrique with a grin. "Speaking of getting in the mood, shall we work out our exact battle plan now?"
"Yes, now would be a good time," Dietrich said. "Duke Scherer, you have an overview of deployment?"
"Yes," mumbled the Duke, speaking with his mouth full. He took a big swallow, washed it down with another sip of port, and continued. "As you know, the French force has temporarily broken the siege of Caen in order to deal with this combined threat - hence, me speaking with you at this moment. Sir Dietrich, you are the closest force to the enemy and will thus face primary engagement with them.
"Prince Hanrrique and his merry band of Portuguese doombringers" - more guffawing - "shall approach the battle from the east, hopefully slamming into the already-engaged French and breaking them. This plan is, in essence, the same strategy that Conrad Salier and Prinz Elberhard used against the Mongols in the second wave.
"Meanwhile, I will be leading the garrison of Caen to the battle from the northeast. I will primarily be supporting Sir Dietrich's army should the event arise where the French prove too much for his men." Dietrich snorted. "My force, the greatest numerically out of the four armies present on the field, shall also serve as a final sledgehammer should the combined efforts of Dietrich and the Prince fail to drive the French off the battlefield."
"An excellent summary, Duke Scherer," said Prince Hanrrique. "Dietrich, do you know what you are doing?"
"Yeah," Dietrich said with a grin on his face. "Kill all the French bastards, but save some for you so you can swoop in and win the day."
"Admirable sentiments," said the Prince. "Come! Let us eat and drink the body and blood of those already slain by better men!" The remainder of the night continued as such.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The Battle
"They have artillery," said Dietrich, groaning. "God, how I hate artillery. Three regiments of trebuchets, six of the cursed things, ninety crewmen, already an abomination because they're French, but twice so because they're crewmen; Friedrich, how I hate artillery."
"Yes, sir," said Friedrich absentmindedly. He had evidently heard variations of this rant many times before. "So how will you deal with them?"
"Don't give 'em much of a window to fire at, I guess," said Dietrich, rambling. "I wanted to stay in place for a while, give 'em a few crossbow volleys since we have the upper hand this time, but staying in place is suicide against these things..."
"Sir?"
"All units forward. Just move. This heavy weaponry stuff could be the end of us, Friedrich. I don't like it - imagine, scientists winning a war instead of soldiers - real men! I don't like it!"
The Imperial line lurched forward with Dietrich still ranting on about how artillery, especially the trebuchet, was an abomination, and probably was invented by the slimy French since they were too weak and cowardly to resort to proper fighting and needed a backup plan, and how the inventor of the trebuchet was the child of - oh, crap, six flaming rocks headed directly for us.
The realization of that snapped Dietrich back to the battle.
"Keep in line, boys! Don't break the line! Just keep moving forward and they won't be able to hurt you any more!"
The first salvo of the rocks came down. Most were off-target; such was the consequence of using fire. One, however, came down directly on a handful of crossbowmen, crushing and burning them up, leaving their immolating bodies for the rest of the army to see as they moved past.
"You want that *#%! to happen to you?" Dietrich yelled at the men. "Charge, boys; if you're going to die then die properly! Forward!" The Imperial line began moving at a run. The French in front of them did not stop but also marched forward. The two lines were now quite close and the second salvo of the French artillery undershot their targets, burning up a significant portion of their own men.
The Imperials, led by Dietrich, whooped. "Come on, men! They are backed by men that can't even aim right! Forward and show them that there is no escape!!!" The two lines met, and the usual melee began.
Dietrich rode, backing the center of the Imperial line, and he saw something very odd indeed. The French center was already beginning to break. This was probably a factor of several variables, including the fact that they were town militia (what idiot of a leader would put the weakest unit in the center? Were they hoping for a Cannae?) and had taken a fiery trebuchet delivery in the back, but Dietrich, knowing that his reputation against the French was growing, could only think that somehow, he was the cause of this rout.
The regiment of Armoured Sergeants that were fighting in the center were now idled. Dietrich ordered them to assist their fellows and flank the Dismounted Noble Knights, opening up a gaping hole in the center of both lines.
If they're scared of me then this should make things much easier, Dietrich thought. "Come on, men! We lead by example! Charge those trebuchets!!!" His escort screamed forward, covering the open space between the battle line and the French artillery. Looking around, he saw that he was not the only one making that journey.
After hacking away at the trebuchets for a while, he paused and took a look at the greater battle. It was over fast. The French units seemed to be breaking in a chain reaction; not because others were breaking, but because the Germans that were fighting those that had broke were turning their attention to them now. It would soon be time clean-up duty.
To the east, Prince Hanrrique and his escort led the Portuguese charge on the French position, still a good bit off from the main fight. He crested the final forested hill and took a view of the situation, clear for the first time. He chuckled.
"That dirty dog," he said, "He didn't leave any for us! Come on, boys, we can't be left out of this fight! Charge!!!"
The Portuguese, along with Duke Scherer, tried their very best to get to the situation but it was over before they got there. The French were either dead or taken prisoner, and Dietrich trotted over, greeting them smartly.
"Prince Hannrique. Duke Scherer," he said, taking off his helmet and grinning, "You're late."
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The battle for Jerusalem, 1302
Elberhard was glad to escape Europe and the thankless job of chairing the Diet for a while. A formidable Egyptian army had entered the province of Jerusalem and he had to lead his army to drive it off. However, the Prinz's army was still battered from its last encounter with the Egyptians, and so Elberhard ordered his Armenian captain, Kachig Iskyan, to recruit some mercenaries to make up the shortfall.
“There are some Khwarazmian cavalry units that would join us for a price.” offered the Armenian.
“Aren't the Khwarazmians Mohammedans?” queried the Prinz, cautiously. “The Diet is already giving me hell for cosying up to the Orthodox Byzantines. How do you think they will take it if I start drafting Mohammedans into my ranks?”
Kachig shrugged. “Are the Electors going to fight this battle for you? Is a sword Catholic or Mohammedan? No, the Electors are hundreds of miles from here, running around like headless chickens over this or that imagined plot against them. And you need these men. That Egyptian army means business.”
“You are right. @#$%^&!!! it - I don’t care which god those Khwarazmians worship, so long as they fight for me.”
“Very good, Sire, and now, I have something rather special for you today. Follow me and take a look…”
Elberhard gazed up at the mighty armour clad beasts in front of him.
“Cannon? They’ve got @#$%^&!!!ing cannon on top of them? I don’t @#$%^&!!!ing believe it! Who the @#$%^&!!! came up that @#$%^&!!!ing idea?! Must have been some goddamn creative assembly.”
The Prinz smiled to himself and shook his head admiringly.
Then he paused and said lewdly to Kachig: “Lift up that cloth over them, I want to have a look down below. This one’s a male, right?”
The Prinz peered under the elephant and then emerged, with a smirk on his face. “Hah! Better tell Duke Arnold - that soubriquet of his, old elephant balls, might be one thing that is deterring any of the ladies from saying yes to his propositioning!”
*****
The Prinz shuffled nervously.
“Three to two in our favour, you said?” he asked Kachig. The Armenian shrugged and mumbled something - not wishing to correct the Prinz and tell him the odds were actually reversed. Better to let him attack thinking he had the edge.
“All right - can’t be that hard, then can it? But @#$%^&!!!, they do look rather formidable - all lined up like that.”
“All right” said Elberhard, repeating himself, as if psyching himself up for the challenge. “Those handguns of theirs will make probably make a mess of our armour, but we may have an advantage in range. Let’s start off the battle by seeing what those Duke Arnolds can do. Tell them to aim for the rearmost cavalry unit - it will probably be their captain.”
However, Elberhard had overlooked the fact that the Egyptians had their own long range artillery in the form of a pair of trebuchets. These monsters of wood and stone were wheeled out in front of the Egyptian army and began to launch fiery shots in the direction of the Prinz’s elephants.
“@#$%^&!!! it! Take care of my Arnolds!” shouted the Prinz to Kachig. “Get them the @#$%^&!!! out of there! Send them to the hill on the right flank - at the double.”
Kachig bowed, slightly distressed at the clear evidence that the Prinz cared more for his lumbering beasts of war than for the brave men standing on the front line.
“All right” said the Prinz, taking stock. “So much for the blasting them from range. I forgot about their @#$%^&!!!ing trebuchets. We’ll have to try something else. Let’s send forward the pavise crossbowmen. We will still outrange them. Put the entire army in loose formation. I’ve seen what those trebuchets can do to close ranked troops.”
The German line advanced forward, moving into crossbow range of the Egyptians. However, the Mamluk archers swept in from the flanks and began to fire on the advancing Imperial army.
“Halt!” shouted Elberhard, calmly. Four regiments of pavise crossbowmen against three of Mamluk archers. The odds were still in his favour. One regiment of Mamluks began to enter a Cantabrian circle.
“Send in the Khwarazmians!” ordered Elberhard. He had no expectation the heavily armoured mercenaries could catch the horse archers, but they would at least prevent them using the Cantabrian circle to make themselves invulnerable to the German crossbowmen.
The Egyptians seemed to realise they were getting the worst of it and so sent forward two regiments of Sudanese gunners to assist the Mamluk archers. As the gunners got close enough to bring their weapons to bear, Elberhard knew he had to act.
“Send in the cavalry from both flanks. Let’s catch those fellows before they get too comfortable.”
For a moment, it looked as if the battle was shifting decisively in favour of the Germans. The Sudanese gunners, and the Egyptian trebuchets, were run down in the charge of the Imperial cavalry. The elephant artillery, now sited on a ridge on the right flank, rained death down on the central mass of Egyptian heavy infantry and cavalry, which milled in confusion, reforming its line.
*****
However, like a swarm of angry bees, the Egyptian army started to group together and then surged forward towards the exposed German cavalry. Regiments of axebearing Tabbardariyya threw themselves at the cavalry locked in melee in the centre.
Hastily, Elberhard called for his cavalry to withdraw.
Then, like lightning, fast moving Mamluks and Royal Mamluks emerged on the flanks to pursue the retreating Teutons and Khwarazmians.
Jan the Teuton’s regiment on the right of the Imperial line had smashed through a regiment of handunners and crossed the centre of the line. As a result, it was withdrawing down the left flank, pursued by enemy horse. This unfortunately left a retreating regiment of Khwarazmians as the sole cavalry available to defend the German right. The mercenaries were unable to hold against massed Royal Mamluks and Mamluk archers which vigourously pursued them.
“@#$%^&!!! it, I am going to lose me cavalry” swore Elberhard. “Kachig - bring back those elephants - get them to counter-charge on the right flank. Escort! Captain Jan’s Teutons are in trouble! Let’s help them out!” With that the Prinz launched his own escort towards the left flank.
The Prinz’s escort was unable to reach the Egyptian cavalry pursuing Jan’s Teutons on the left and instead got bogged down in the centre, in melee with three regiments of axe-wielding Tabbardariyya. As he saw his escort falling around him, Elberhard could hear Linyeve’s voice inside his head: Be careful… you must not die… you have many enemies who would rejoice in your death.
But as Elberhard looked around, he could see no possibility of retreat. He was alone, behind the three enemy infantry regiments - to try to pull back through the axe-chopping infantry would be certain death.
There was only one thing for it - Elberhard called out to his escort, over the heads of the Egyptian infantry that were interposed between them.
“Brothers! Follow me! Forward! Ride through these scum!”
The well armoured German knights spurred their heavy horses through the enemy lines and, as if by a miracle, all three of the regiments of Tabardariyya broke beneath their advance.
With that “charge”, Elberhard had smashed the enemy centre. He quickly exploited it, crashing his escort into the rear of other committed enemy units and then overrunning into one of the remaining regiments of Sudanese gunners.
The battle was now clearly the Prinz’s, but there was a price to be paid on the beleaguered right. There, only the mercenary elephants were holding up the Egyptian attack and even they were falling to the lances of the dauntless Royal Mamluks.
Kachig ordered his pavise crossbowmen to stand their ground and fight the enemy heavy cavalry in a desperately uneven battle. The Armenian captain brought the decimated regiment of Khwarazmians to assist the crossbowmen, but it was not enough and the mercenaries died bravely in the cause of their hired masters.
In the end, the situation on the right was only saved by the arrival of Elberhard and the bulk of his army from the centre and left.
****
After the battle, Elberhard wandered, distraught, over to the fallen elephants.
“My poor @#$%^&!!!ing Arnolds.” he wailed.
Kachig angrily approached the Prinz: “Forget those animals, Sire!” chastised the Armenian, gesturing to the depleted regiments of pavise crossbowmen and spearmen. “If you must grieve, grieve for the brave men who died to give you this victory.”
Shamefaced, Elberhard nodded in agreement. But when the angry Armenian had left, the Prinz, who by now had recovered his good spirits, took aside one of his pages.
“Look, I want you to take an axe and cut off a piece of one of those beasts to send to Duke Arnold as a souvenir. … No, no, no, not a foot, I don’t want you to cut off a foot, I want you to cut off, you know their …”
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
A small village somewhere at the foot of the eastern Alps, 1304 AD
There had been reports of rebels who raided and pillaged the many small villages that littered the foot of the Alps, but to date, they had always eluded the Imperial forces that marched through, on their way east. It was time that someone put an end to this menace thought Hans, who was also eyeing the newest addition to Swabia: Ehrhart.
"Ehrhart, it is time you earned your spurs."
"Very well, I have been waiting to test my skills with the blade on a foe for many years now, and I am humbled by your attention my liege." was the reply.
Hans nodded. "Indeed, you will have ample opportunity. In fact, it will just be the two of us and a small company of men who will be defending this village here tonight."
"Just us two?! They may be rebels, but last reports indicate some 500 or so men with spears and horses. How are we to defeat them on our own? We have the Imperial army with us, why not use them?"
"You have much to learn Ehrhart. We nobles are priviledged to lead men, and to do so, means to not waste lives needlessly. Anyone can muster an army to defeat this force, but to do so with a sense of chivalry is different. Besides, the Imperial army would be spotted too easily. Us two can lay in waiting and strike when the time is ripe."
Ehrhart was too loyal a man to disobey such words or reason, although he believed in simply killing his foe rather than doing so honorably.
-----
A villager ran up to Hans, shouting between gasps and waving his arms wildly. Before he could speak anything audible, Hans raised his hand to stop him, only nodding and saying calmly: "They are coming, I know. Get to safety and have all villagers stay in their homes."
"Well then Ehrhart, let us show these rebels that to attack a German village is to attack the empire itself. To battle!"
Hans signalled his men to follow and charged the nearest regiment of rogue militia spearmen, while Ehrhart joined him only after the regiment was decimated and fleeing and Hans was already charging against the next.
Lances broke through the little armor most of the rebels wore and each charge by the two nobles left only a mass of dead or nearly dead raiders, with few horses to be seen in between. Ehrhart was dazzled by it all, less leading than following Hans' orders during the battle. His retinue on the other hand was busy protecting him from any blows he might take while staring at the scene, still wondering which devil rode his adopter to attack so boldly and relentlessly.
It was then, that he noticed how the veterans under Hans' command did not merely reform to charge, but at times charged through the rebel ranks without even galloping more than a single step.
Finally exiting his trance-like state, Ehrhart got a grip of himself and led a charge into the rebel leader's retinue himself to prove his worth and gain knighthood.
It was not after long, that the last regiment of rebels were scattering and running from the two men, who had fought so bitterly and with such determination and instilled fear with their very presence.
After the battle, Hans rode his horse next to Ehrhart, laying a hand on his shoulder, he spoke: "While you were not too eager to fight them, you did prove your worth towards the end by throwing yourself into the fray with spearmen in pursuit. For that, and your service to these villagers and the empire, you are hereby Knight Ehrhart."
Before Ehrhart could respond, Hans had already rode off to the village square to address the villagers. Finally a knight was his only thought.
-
Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Although he was about to go battle, Edmund Becker was very happy. A new general had appeared name Lorenz Zirn, and he was seeking his knighthood under Duke Arnold. Even better, he had just heard that Karl Zirn would be returning from Outremer. Yes, he was quite pleased.
“I tell you Karl, it is a good day to be alive. Soon Duke Arnold will have ample replacements for me, and I can resign from this army and finally govern over my beloved Prague. My beloved’s beloved Prague, for that matter.”
Karl did not answer. He had been staring at the walls of Bucharest with a depressed look on his face for quite some time. He soon snapped out of it and turned to Becker.
“Well my lord, here’s hoping that this siege goes better than the last one.” His carefree expression fell apart when he realized what he said, and he turned away.
Becker turned to regard the usually irreverent figure. It was only by the slimmest of margins that he had met Edmund in Bran, when the Count was making a tour of the ranges. Eager to start a retinue, Edmund immediately offered him a position.
“It’s all right. I can’t blame you for feeling so poorly after what happened, especially after what my wife went through. But this is different.” Becker continued as he absent-mindedly scratched one of his scars. “I’ve proven myself to be quite difficult to kill. I swear to God I am not going to die to today. There will be not chance of that happening what so ever.” He sighed to himself heavily. “I still have to see Prague. Now then, let’s go about making some better memories.”
* * *
The battle started with a bit of a surprise: The walls were abandoned.
“This is rather odd.” pondered Becker. “But it doesn’t change what me have to do. Get those gates open!” This was not a difficult job for two Grand Bombards, who opened the gates in an instant. “Get the troops in line to enter the city.” Becker ordered.
“Now then,” he thought, “Let us see how they react. If they’re just waiting at the center then that’s fine, but I won’t have my boys caught unawares in the streets somewhere.”
Becker’s patience was soon rewarded when the city garrison arrived on the walls and started firing on his soldiers. He turned around and smacked his advisor, which was more for effect what with the armor. “What the hell is this? Why’d you tell me we couldn’t deploy any further when we’re not even beyond bowshot?” Before he could get an answer, he realized that the artillery had already taken out three of the towers.
“That’s good! Target the wall next!” It only took one salvo from the two cannons to send an entire section of the wall crumbling down. With a keen eye Becker spotted that there were on Hungarians in front of the gate. He quickly shouted orders. “Cavalry, ride to the city center! Infantry, advance upon the two breaches! Artillery, take out that last tower!”
As the men advanced, Edmund came to the embarrassing realization that those orders would have been better off given in the reverse order.
Regardless, Imperial Knights soon began riding through the eastern gates of Bucharest to the surprise of the Hungarians.
But the enemy were no fools, and the Hungarian militia engaged the Imperial cavalry while the Imperial foot engaged the Hungarian militia. The result was a rather confusing melee.
This arrangement soon proved it’s effectiveness when the Hungarians fleeting to the city center found half of the Knights blocking their path. The Hungarian general Oremus Samuel had planned on coming to the aid of the militia, but a quick peek at the situation made the futility of such an act obvious.
With the walls taken, Edmund began issuing new orders. “All right, let’s get going! Surround the center from all sides! Sergeants, what do you see?”
A sergeant walked up to Edmund quickly. “My lord, the Hungarians have one full unit of milita, one quarter-strength unit of militia, and a Hungarian Noble.”
“I see. Well then, let us wait for the other regiments to get in position. We need to do this right.” At that point, Karl spoke up.
“Sir, what about the crossbowmen? They can be put to good use if the enemy’s just going to sit there.”
“Interesting. Very well, bring them up. Worst case scenario, we draw them out to us.”
The crossbowmen reached the center, and soon began shooting at Samuel. Samuel wanted to stop this.
It was a noble effort, and he died in a suitably manly fashion with a sword in his arm and enemies on all sides.
“Very good. With him dead we have nothing to fear. Just rush those last few militia.”
It was an easy task for the sergeant and zweihanders.
As Edmund marched into the city triumphant, the town hall caught his eye.
“Did we do that?”
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Caen, 1306
As Karl’s horse crested the brow of the hill, he could see before him Count Scherer’s army arrayed for battle. The legendary Swabian general had deployed his men, the combined militia of Paris and Rheims, to force a way through the French besieging Caen.
Karl raced down the hill, skirting the French lines on the forward slope of the hill. The foe were not numerous, but impressed Karl with their professionalism. At the front, well-armoured aventuriers stood, ready to rain crossbow bolts down on any attackers. Behind them were foot knights and a single regiment of mounted knights.
Thankfully, the French paid no heed to Karl - perhaps thinking him one of their own. The young German knight made it through to his own lines. There, he was shocked that no one intercepted him, a knight in full armour, heading straight for the German head quarters. All around him the militia seemed unconcerned or uncertain. Only when he approached Count Scherer’s own escort was he stopped and his identity demanded.
“I am Sir Karl Gorg, a knight from the Caen garrison.” Karl proclaimed.
Count Scherer had observed Karl’s rapid approach and came over to speak to him.
“Can we expect your garrison to join us?” the Count inquired.
Karl felt shame deep within him. The garrison, led by an overly methodical and cautious commander, Captain Hermann, still had not broken out of Caen.
“They may yet, my Lord, but garrison is hard pressed breaking through the French barricades.”
Scherer nodded. “Very well, we waste no time in assisting them. Sound the advance!”
Karl was alarmed - he had seen the professional French army awaiting them. The Count’s militia may outnumber the enemy considerably, but they would be no match for them in combat.
The Count looked at Karl with a smile: “You will ride with me, I hope?”
Karl bowed, honoured at the request to join the Count’s escort.
The French lines advanced - peasant crossbowmen leading the way in loose order. The Count ordered them to target the French knights, rather than try to duel the aventuriers. After them came the spear militia, backed by town militia and halberd militia. On each flank, a regiment of militia cavalry was sent to get behind the enemy lines.
Karl rode with Count Scherer behind the mass of the German militia. He could see the violence being worked by the aventuriers on the hill. Militia fell by the dozen and lay moaning or screaming in the grass. Karl looked at the progress of the militia cavalry on the two flanks. On the right, he was appalled to see one rider fall after another. Within a couple of minutes, the regiment had been reduced from sixty to less than a dozen.
“My God!” exclaimed Karl. Never before had he witnessed such effective archery.
He turned to look at the German left. Amazingly, the militia cavalry regiment there had drawn up level with the French line without being molested. Then Karl’s eyes made out something in woods. A body of enemy horsemen had hidden concealed on the right of the French lines.
For a moment, Karl thought the militia cavalry might charge the French mounted knights in the rear.
“Don’t do it, don’t do it.” Karl prayed quietly under his breath.
Already one of the two militia cavalry regiments had been destroyed. Karl had little doubt the same fate would await the remaining one if it entered combat unsupported against the pride of French chivalry.
“Send a regiment of spearmen to engage those mounted knights on the left.” ordered Count Scherer to his aides. Then, as if remembering he only commanded militia, not professional sergeants, the Count added: “Better make that two regiments of spearmen.”
But the Germans were not to have the initiative in this battle. As the Germans approached the aventuriers, French knights charged through the aventuriers and headed straight to the militia struggling up the hill.
All along the lines there was a clash of arms. The French knights, both mounted and on foot, clearly outclassed their opponents and soon most of the militia regiments were at half strength or below. Only the reputation of their general kept the Germans in the fight.
Count Scherer turned to Karl grimly: “Well, young man, it looks like our presence at the front is required.”
Karl held up his lance in a salute as Count Scherer ordered his bodyguard into the fray.
The Duke made straight for the enemy general, whose mounted knights were threatening to overrun the German right.
Karl fought ferociously, cutting his way to the enemy general and then bringing him down in single combat. The young knight was exultant - through valour of arms, he and Scherer’s escort had surely won the day!
However, when Karl turned, he saw in horror, dismounted French knights with poleaxes closing in on Scherer’s few remaining bodyguards. The Count himself was hemmed in among the trees, trapped between brave aventuriers and vengeful foot knights.
As Karl saw the body of the Count fall, he screamed in anger. This was all Karl’s fault - he should have stopped the general attacking alone; he should have brought the Caen garrison up in time. News of the brave general’s death spread among the German militia like a shock wave and soon the entire vast German army was in rout.
Karl shouted to the crossbow militia: “Stand your ground! Fight like Friedrich!”
Then the young knight took his horse and raced up the hill, desperate to find if the Caen garrison had arrived on the field. When he reached the small, but professional garrison, he rode straight to its commander, Captain Hermann.
“Count Friedrich is fallen. The battle is almost lost. I beg of you, Captain, give me command of the regiment of mounted knights. I may yet be able to save the day!”
Captain Hermann was a general who would never earn the soubriquet speedy, but even he could not fail to be moved by the impassioned young knight pleading before him. He nodded: “God go with you! I will follow with the infantry as fast as I can.”
Karl led the Imperial knights in a frenzy, leading them to smash one regiment of aventuriers after another.
By the time Karl’s men turned their attention to the enemy foot knights, the fighting spirit of the French was broken. Count Scherer’s mission to relieve Caen had succeeded, but at the cost of the Reich’s most distinguished general.
Some weeks after the battle, Karl received a letter from Prinz Elberhard:
Quote:
Originally Posted by Elberhard
Sir Karl Gorg,
I am saddened to hear of the loss of Count Friedrich Scherer, a true hero of the Reich.
But as one hero dies, another is born. I have been told of your part in saving the battle and wish to offer you a battlefield promotion. You will be given land and estates and made an Elector in the Reich.
Please accept this great honour,
Yours,
Prinz Elbehard
Karl let the letter fall, unanswered to the floor.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
Placeholder for the siege, assault and sack of Constantinopel.
:balloon2:
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
“So it has come to this again. It seems the peasants and the nobles alike want to keep their city to themselves”
Edmund Becker addressed his army.
“Men! We have Hungarian wolves at the wayside, just waiting to pick to pick off good Imperials who have the courage to go and fight. So let’s take this city quickly, and make sure to keep the walls intact! Now, to battle for the Reich and Saint Michael!”
Though there was a heavy rain, it did little to obscure what needed to be done. There were five towers to take down, and cannons to do it.
Once that was done it was a simple matter of advancing on the walls. The rebels had only one unit of archers to contest with and they futilely spent their arrows on the walls.
In Edmund’s haste to make sure the ladders were properly placed, he was very much surprised to see the enemy Knight’s riding forth from the city gates and attacking his Zweihanders.
“That it, they’ve given us an opening! Infantry, cavalry advance!” Soon Imperial soldiers were swarming into Bucharest without so much as splinter having fallen from the gate.
On the walls, the rebel foot archers were firing their last salvo.
Again, the Imperial cavalry surged forward. They would be ready when the rebels tried to flee back to the city center.
That did not take long, as the men defending the walls were all peasants and levies. A few units broke almost upon contact.
But the battle was far from over, with many enemies standing between the Reich and control of the city.
Becker quickly hatched a plan to send the infantry through the main road,
While having the cavalry flank them by moving along a side road.
This led to the cavalry almost being flanked, but Becker was prepared for that too.
Still, the fighting inevitably degenerated into chaos.
Becker ordered the cavalry to extract themselves from the fighting and approach the city center from another direction while the infantry pushed through.
After that, the rest of the siege was textbook. The infantry and the cavalry moved in from multiple directions, surrounding the then outnumbered defenders and wearing them down from all side. Unfortunately most of the remaining soldiers were knights, and they took a heavy toll before falling.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Diary of Dietrich von Dassel
Durazzo, 1314
No really, I thought, rolling up the scroll and burning it. What a waste of paper. If raising an illegal army, housing the greatest threat to the Papacy (Alexander Luther), and marching that army on Durazzo, de facto capital of the Papacy in the name of Luther's teachings with the intent of killing the Pope wasn't grounds for excommunication, everyone might as well just coast into Heaven right now. I laughed. Wouldn't that be something?
As far as marches went, it was a rather fun one. The men were clearly motivated, and we may have heard Hans's screams of frustration at the fact that he couldn't catch me from here. Plus, after that assassination attempt on Luther, we actually gained men who wanted to join the cause, which was a welcome rarity in army marches. Granted, the fellows didn't have much experience... or armor... or weaponry. However, they did have zeal, and there are some occasions where zeal counts for the most.
If only the most zealous were always the most well-equipped to fight...
Anyways, we finally arrived at Durazzo. It was a beautiful day, clear skies, all that. We were also somewhat surrounded and definitely outnumbered. But the nasty part of it would come later. Now came the catapults.
We brought six of the shiny, lovely, wooden things with us from Ragusa to Durazzo. I remembered back in the Diet when Jan von Hamburg was flapping on about them and how there was no possible way they could be used to keep the peace in Ragusa, which at the time was my main excuse for housing that large army. I simply ignored him on that point. Ignoring him is fun. I must make a note to ignore him more often. Perhaps me completely ignoring him will actually ruffle his feathers a bit. That would be fun to see.
Before the catapults began their salvos against Durazzo's poor walls I had a couple of things to do. First of all, I had to address Luther. He was our religious ace in the hole, after all. I was confident in my generalling skills that day, but still, I was outnumbered by quite a bit. I told him to use all of his religious mojo to pray that second, massive army away, or at least delay them a bit. He seemed taken aback at my request but considering how I had sheltered him for the past few years and the fact that I was dressed in my full, intimidating, battle regalia he complied.
The second thing was to make the usual inspiring speech to the troops. I had this sort of thing in my mind for a while now. One's head generally gets overloaded with inspiring speeches when one gets stuck with garrison duty for a number of years. As a result, it came out a little over-the-top. Of course, I had people with zeal on my side, so maybe it was perfect.
"Men!" I said, in a nice, manly, let's-get-down-to-business tone, "Before us lies our goal! Durazzo, home of the puppet! Durazzo, home of the old crone! Durazzo, home of that Byzantine!!!" They cheered at that last bit. I grinned behind my helmet. I love it when something in a speech goes right. "We come here today," I continued, "A persecuted people, chased by our own kind, chased by people determined to run the Reich into ruin just to complete their own misguided agendas!" More cheering. I felt like a Kaiser. Oh wait, scratch that. I felt like a Duke. Actually, some Dukes are really having some problems nowadays. Scratch that too. I felt like... a popular leader. Let's leave it at that.
"They have tried to take everything away from me! Gentlemen, look at me! I am without a County. I am without a House! Men, they were even trying to rob me of my freedom before we made our march! But *#%! it, I have an army. And an army is all you ever need in life!!! We are the Army of Light, for that is what we bring to the world! Light, knowledge, and the truth! Nobody can take that away from us!!!" Cue army going beserk. Cue me nervously scanning the horizon searching for that huge Papal army scheduled to grind us into oblivion. Cue me not seeing anything and silently praising God and Luther (not necessarily in that order) for siding with me today.
"Anyway, enough talking!" I concluded, because I really wanted to take the city before that other army decided to show up. "Catapults, show 'em what you've got!!!"
And they did. The lovely, shiny, wooden things did their work and launched those rocks at the enemy's walls, which vibrated so much from the impact that they sent the poor men on them flying. Of course, Pope Abbate or whoever was actually commanding the men saw the danger in this at once and gave the order to promptly abandon the walls. I remember turning to my aide, Friedrich, and remarking that I take back everything I ever said about artillery. He just shook his head.
I kept them firing long after it was necessary, grinning. Say all you will about the Reich's current state. The people of Durazzo, especially those who live on the north side of the city, will still say that we're pretty damn powerful. It felt good. Plus, it gave me some time to think about how to assault the city, where a large Papal army was waiting for us.
Mainly, I thought about those Religious Fanatics that had joined us halfway through and where they would fit. My first inclination was to use them as shock troops; they certainly had that required zeal. But then I realized they didn't fit the other definition of shock troops: effective. Forlorn Hope were good shock troops. They were effective. These Lutherans were like Forlorn Hope, only they suck. But then I realized that - hey! - the walls were abandoned and I wouldn't need any shock troops, period. Eventually I decided to put the Lutherans in reserve and use them as a buffer where extra manpower was needed.
"Sir?" Friedrich tugged my arm, snapping me back to life. "The northern walls are pretty much gone. Should we go in?"
I stared at the walls. The assessment was quite accurate.
But then I saw that the gates, while now completely redundant, still stood. I couldn't have that, now, could I?
"Not yet," I said. "Tell the catapults to bring the gate down."
"Sir? You do realize that-"
"Just do it," I snapped. "Catapults! Bring down that gate!"
They did so. I grinned. We were ready to go in.
Our men marched in, slowly, relaxed. There was need to speed up. After all, the walls - or what was left of them - were abandoned. There was no army behind us pushing us to move in. We had all the time in the world. I liked that. It's rare in war when you can be so organized in the middle of a battle. I ordered my units in and they went exactly where I placed them. Amazing.
A lone regiment of Papal Guard was standing at the entranceway to one of the main streets, daring us to pass. I laughed. Did they expect to be like the Spartans at Thermopylae? Did they expect to hold back the crush of my men? I ordered most of my infantry in to break them. The people in the numerous regiments of Dismounted Feudal Knights, Armoured Sergeants, and Zweihanders inevitably slipped through the cracks and sent the Papal Guard fleeing. The Papists would have to find another way to beat me.
The main vanguard of infantry continued to move up the main street, occasionally encountering resistance. I dispatched a smaller group consisting of the Lutherans and two regiments of Armoured Sergeants to take a side street in support. Once enough area was secure, the archers and cavalry moved in. Order was progressing nicely, with the vanguard almost reaching the end of the main street. They were facing a minor resistance in Italian Spear Militia, who were being roundly defeated. Then I saw some movement that was rather surprising.
Cavalry - it had to be the Pope, since that was the only horse unit in the place - was moving, ready to back up the Italians and slam into my Zweihanders. But then I saw the Pope (poor lad, he was German, after all) move past the main action... right onto the side street where the Lutherans were ready to intercept him.
I laughed out loud. Pope Abbate was alone, without infantry support, against nearly two hundred and fifty pissed off Lutherans who had been taught for the past years that the man deserved to die. Zeal would certainly account for a lot in this skirmish.
It was almost comically quick. The poor guy was right at the front of his unit when they ran into the Lutherans. His men put up a valiant fight but they simply couldn't reverse the fact that their leader was an old fat guy who had no military experience whatsoever. He fell rather quickly and a humongous cheer went up among the Lutherans, buoying the main group (who had intercepted potential infantry support).
Anyway, the fight continued until it was a brutal showdown in the town center between us and the majority of the Papal infantry. I received a report from the catapults saying that the enemy army was finally in sight and that it was beginning to savage them with long-range weapons of its own. I ignored it. Killing the guys in the town center mattered now. After reading Kaiser Heinrich's reports on defeating the Papacy and taking Mediterranean settlements in general it seemed like this was the hardest part. I spent most of my time alternating between watching the battle and breaking into houses to steal food.
The fight dragged on, blah blah blah. We lost some, they lost some. I received another report from the catapults. Time to get serious. I broke into one final house with a delicious scent of cake emanating from it, ate a slice, re-mounted my horse, and gave the final orders to the cavalry:
"Charge, boys!!!"
The Papal infantry was already at the breaking point, pressed to the limit by our men. That final cavalry charge, 150 horses screaming in, was simply too much. They died easily. Clockwork.
"Men!" I screamed to my army after it was all over. "You have been vindicated! Re-unification lies in ruins! The puppet is deposed! You have exercised the Reich's authority and I salute you for that! The final Papal army approaches. Enjoy your spoils, make them remember this day forever as the day where they were too slow to prevent this from happening!"
And then, I exercised my final atrocity against the city of Durazzo.
"Kill them all."
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Battle of the Iron Bridge, 1316
The bridge over the Orontes north of Antioch was called Pons Ferreus by the First Crusaders, the Iron Bridge. An imposing name, even if the bridge was just stone. The locals called the river it crossed the Farfar, and so the bridge had been Latinized into its current name. Still, despite the inaccuracy, Matthias was pleased with it. It was a good place to make a stand, at the Iron Bridge. The Crusaders would need Iron to make it, an iron will and strong weapons to turn the tide of the Greek advance. As pleased as Matthias was to return to the field, he was outnumbered and outclassed in cavalry.
The Greeks were anxious to secure their line of supply to Antioch. They were willing to spend quite a few Florins on mercenary cavalry to ensure this and the destruction of one of the three remaining Imperial armies in the East. They needed the bridge, which is why Matthias had asked to come here. Adana might be gone, Outremer almost overrun, but he now held something they wanted. That gave him, tactically at least, the upper hand.
Matthias turned to his troops and spoke.
"Crusaders! Germans! The Chosen of God! We make our stand here! We have been pushed back by the Greeks. We sought to abandon our Covenant with the Lord, and we have been punished for it. We have almost lost the Holy Land, our sacred trust. But now, now, we fight back! No more retreat. No more gifts. No more diplomacy. We draw the line here! Now is the time for Blood! Now is the time to reforge our Faith and our Honor in the Crucible of Battle. Glory to God and death to the Greeks!"
A cheer went up among the men, hope rekindling in the hearts of men who had almost lost it. Matthias prayed it would be enough. Faith was a powerful weapon, but only if channeled properly. He looked north, he would have his answer soon.
Matthias had placed his spearmen in front. The knights and zweihanders were behind them, ready to charge in once the lines met. The crossbowmen were on the flanks, their firing lines angled to form a kill zone in the middle of the bridge.
The Byzantines led with bowmen and infantry, as they charged across the bridge, Matthias ordered his spearmen forward to cap the exit of the bridge with a V formed by the two units. They arrived just in time to meet the Greeks.
The spears held, barely, and Matthias ordered his heavy infantry to join the maelstrom at the head of the bridge.
It was a vicious melee, but the Imperial foot had the advantage of positioning. The Byzantine foot stuck on the bridge and unable to make it to the the front line were mercilessly cut down by the crossbowmen.
The infantry soon fled. The Kwarzimen, held in reserve to pursue the expected routers, were thrown into the battle. Rather than give them room to fight and bring the weight of their horses to bear, Matthias ordered his infantry onto the bridge to block them. The crossbowmen would do most of the killing this time.
It was touch and go, but the horsemen broke as well. Matthias giddily ordered a general pursuit, laughing as he killed the fleeing Byzantines.
The Teutonic Knights were ahead of the rest of the Imperial forces when the Greek cavalry rallied. They charged into the Teutons.
Matthias, swearing at his own stupidity, ordered the foot into the fight as he counter-charged with his own retainers. He was taking losses he could ill afford. Fortunately, the Greeks' resurgence was temporary and they once again broke.
The Butcher's Bill
The prisoners were ransomed for nearly four thousand Florins. Matthias was tempted to send them to Hell, but he did need reinforcements and money was tight.
After the battle, Matthias was content. The Greeks had been bled, the line had been held and he had found a good place to make a stand. This time, he would not be taken by treachery, he would not be dislodged. He would hold the Iron Bridge.
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Re: Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM
The Diary of Dietrich von Dassel
South of Bologna, 1318
We had arrived at Bologna a week prior, but I had declined to attack up until now. This delay was most certainly not my doing; if I had it my way we would have kept right on marching and bit the enemy right in the rear. Of course, if I had it my way back in 1300 I would have been Chancellor, the Kaiser would have been forced to Diet opinion, and we might not have been in such a terrible position in the first place.
Upon seeing the Byzantine army for the first time, my men - my hard-core veterans! - went and got major cold feet. Leading the dissent were the Balkan Archers I had picked up at the start of my march and, more surprisingly, Alexander Luther's very own Religious Fanatics, the same people that had killed Pope Abbate in a frenzy. Now that the odds were slightly against us, they had done a 180 in their opinions; now Luther didn't matter, the Cause didn't matter, defending the Reich didn't matter. They simply would not attack because I was apparently throwing all of their lives away for nothing.
Not even the most passionate speeches by Luther nor the nastiest threats by me could move them from their position. After the third day of the impasse I finally decided to just let them desert before the defeatest sentiment spread to the rest of the men. Of course we were facing bad odds, that was the idea! The Reich needed this kind of victory, and we were the ones that would deliver it to them!
The next few days were spent by me scouring the countryside in search of some less-cowardly men, for with the desertion of the Fanatics and Balkan Archers we were definitely screwed. Eventually I found some Mercenary Spearmen and Pavise Crossbowmen, men not quite devoted to the Cause so much as money. They saw the odds but instead of deserting they simply raised their prices. I was forced to comply.
Finally, after the seventh day, we were ready to move in. And so we did, with me still asking myself whether I was a *#%!ing idiot or not for making this crazy move. Obviously, I kept that sentiment to myself. I didn't want any more men deserting or doubting me.
The way things were set up, the Bologna garrison would come in from the east and smash the Byzantine force. The one thing we had going in our favor was that about half the ridiculously large army consisted of peasant archers, men who surely knew my and the Army of Light's reputation. If we charged in and flanked them... maybe they would break. Maybe. The small men that were part of the Varangian Guard or the Kataphractoi would be harder to disperse, however.
Our men advanced slowly and deliberately for the time being. I wanted to conserve their energy, for once they got in range of the enemy's archers they would need to run if there was to be a significant impact to my charge. As such, the garrison of Bologna got to the fighting first and began to overrun the enemy Horse Archers placed on the extreme flank.
The Byzantines, including the archers, held their positions as the Bolognans slowly overwhelmed the missile cavalry. Good. If they had turned and unleashed their arrows onto the flanking force... well... let's just say that there wouldn't have been a flanking force for long.
Our men stopped.
"Crossbows, take aim!" I shouted. I could hear similar commands being made in Greek on the other side of the battlefield.
Since I had given the order first, our bolts hit their targets faster. There was a moment of brief celebration as we saw some of their hundreds of archers go down, but it was short-lived. The hail of arrow fire was coming our way. Everyone braced themselves for the worst.
I sat up in my saddle, facing the storm. I remembered tales of Thermopylae, where the Persian archers had blotted out the sun, the Persian archers that were part of a numerically superior but inferior in quality force. The Byzantines here, the descendants of the same Greeks that had fought at that mountain pass so long ago didn't block the sun, but they came close.
Arrows came down everywhere, sometimes six or seven to a shield. Dozens of men dropped, but our missiles took the brunt of the casualties. I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that it wasn't worse.
"Infantry, charge!" I roared, and they instantly ran, hoping to get to the enemy line as quickly as possible. "Crossbows, stay here! Keep firing!"
It was an amazing sight. The Byzantines got one volley off into the infantry before my men closed. And then, just over three hundred men charging scattered off three times that number of men, leaving the infantry to take the brunt of the charge.
All of those numbers and none of them want to fight Imperial infantry face-to-face, I thought. Amazing.
My glee was short-lived. Our flanking force was closing in, yes. But so was theirs. Hundreds of Byzantine archers worked their way around the battle line, in our infantry's rear, on both my sides, between me and the infantry, and there was only my escort and crossbowmen to hold them off.
I charged into the closest regiment of archers, killing a good amount of them instantly and sending them running. Hopefully it would last and they wouldn't regain their nerve and come back. I spotted another nearby regiment. Lather, rinse, repeat. But this time it was tougher. The enemy held on longer, we had to kill more of them to make our point, and I lost a couple of horsemen.
After disengaging, I took a look at the greater battle situation:
- Our infantry was in good order, defeating the inferior Byzantine infantry.
- Many many many many many archers still lurked.
- The Bologna garrison was about to become a major thorn in the enemy's side (literally)
- I was about to receive more pressure. After turning around, I saw both some Kataphractoi and the Varangian Guard slowly making their way towards me.
"Oh dear God," I muttered. I guess this was the downside to having a reputation. Desperately turning to my infantry, I started screaming.
"Withdraw! Withdraw! You've killed enough infantry! Time to go after the meat!" My men looked around in confusion, and then saw what I was facing. Bless them, they ran. The Army of Light stuck up for each other.
There was a minute of me evading enemy archer fire, cavalry charges, and infantry engagements. Then, two things happened: The Bolognans, in the midst of their flanking push, struck down the enemy captain. Secondly, our Armoured Sergeants engaged the Varangian Guard. Of course they were getting slowly mauled but the important thing was that the enemy was pinned.
"Ride around the rear, then charge!!!"
My escort did so, breaking the famed Varangian Guard and freeing up the beleagured Armoured Sergeants. Unlike with the archers eariler on in the battle, my men spent extra time chasing down and killing every single person in this regiment.
The process was repeated later on with my infantry and the Kataphractoi. They pinned, I charged. The enemy ran, I pursued. The meat was gone.
The rest of the demoralized enemy quickly routed when realizing that their captain was dead and that the elite units were no more. Our flanking action had gone spectacularly, and the rest of the battle was simply my exhausted men hunting down and destroying routers.
At the day's close, we looked at the official casualty count: It had been a crushing defeat for the enemy. Around 85% of the enemy was not able to escape the field that day. Our losses were relatively few, and the Army of Light was ready for continued action. Plus, and most importantly, we were now more confident, all of us. There would be less desertion after they learned that they could do this.
The final thing I had to deal with was the six hundred sixty nine enemy prisoners. That was quite a lot, and ransoming them would give us a lot of money to use for further operation.
"M'Lord," said Friedrich, my aide, "What should we do with them? We could use the money."
"Kill them," I said without a moment's hesitation. "If the Byzantines want a war, we'll give it to them. This sends a message. This sends her a message, wherever she is."
"Yes, sir," said Friedrich, bowing.
"We may not win this thing," I said to myself, "But we'll make it a fight. We'll make it a fight."
