Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM

**econ21** · 08-01-2007, 11:44

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.”

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“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.

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*****

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.

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“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.

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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!”

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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**Northnovas** · 08-02-2007, 21:28

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.

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"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.

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East Force

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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.

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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,

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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,

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The Egyptian catapults set up in the center but are to late to be effective.

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The forces clash and are quickly beaten.

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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:

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Clear Victory!

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Matthais earns his spurs. In order of BG's, Matthias, Jan and Karl.

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When the celebrating was done the prisoner list was presented to the count.

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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!"

**OverKnight** · 08-03-2007, 10:30

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.

**econ21** · 08-03-2007, 12:13

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.

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“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.

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*****

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!”

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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.

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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.

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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?”

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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.

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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.

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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.

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But the Prinz got there too late. In the end, the mighty Khan was brought down by a lowly German sergeant.

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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!”

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**TevashSzat** · 08-07-2007, 02:57

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.

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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.

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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.

**Cecil XIX** · 08-08-2007, 11:12

The First Battle in the Campaign for the Voivoideship of Transylvania.

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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.

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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The reduced visibility in turn made the eventually joining equally chaotic.

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Soon the Hungarian’s left disintegrated, and the Austrian cavalry was free to flank the main line, such as it was.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Unfortunately, at this point the battle was complete chaos.

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Even the archers could not escape grim melee.

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Fortunately, the Gothic Knights succeeded in defeating Captain Boldyszar of the main force.

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Unfortunately the battle was still not over, as Hungarian catapults decided at last to have their say.

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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.

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During the melee, Sigismund was only vaguely aware of the battle the raged around him.

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The artillerists soon died or fled, and Sigismund rode forward to see the battle progressing nicely.

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There was still a few moments of hard fighting, but eventually the Hungarians gave way and the Reich took the field.

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***

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.

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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!”

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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.

**Tamur** · 08-08-2007, 14:00

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.

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Meanwhile, the Reich's army had been drawn up and were awaiting Pawol's arrival with most unfriendly intentions, as was only right.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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The might of our knights' charge did not even break them.

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However, to the endless dismay of the Polish army, Fritz von Kastilien and his bodyguard drove their lances straight into the enemy!

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Fritz could not restrain himself, and waded in at the front of his guard, hopelessly outnumbered but sure of victory.

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At last, the enemy broke completely. Cavalry were sent to run down and capture the fools.

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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.

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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!

**Cecil XIX** · 08-09-2007, 04:59

The Second Battle

“So then, the usual.”

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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.

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“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.

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Sigismund paused to observe the enemy reinforcements.

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“Right then. Tell the main force to wheel to face the enemy and then hold position. We’ll deal with this lot first.”

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“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.

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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.

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This time, Ugron was not so lucky.

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“That’s enough! Back to the main event!” ordered Sigismund.

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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.”

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It was a long march, lasting several minutes. But eventually, the Imperials closed in on the Hungarian.

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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.

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Soon, the Austrian cavalry joined the fight.

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After that, Sigismund and the Imperial Knights broke through to attack the Hungarian rear.

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The response to this attack, combined with the superior quality of Imperial soldiers, resulted in a Hungarian army that was quickly disintegrating

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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.

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After that, it was simply a matter of mopping up the enemy.

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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

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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.

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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.

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It was normal at first.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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When their forces clashed, Sigismund locked his eyes intently upon his counterpart.

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But it was not to be, as the swarm of cavalry soon separated them.

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Soon Captain Ugron was cut down, and Sigismund led the rest of his knights to cut down the remaining foe.

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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.

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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."

**Tamur** · 08-09-2007, 14:03

Placeholder for Fritz & Péter's defence of Thorn, 1270

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**TinCow** · 08-10-2007, 00:46

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.

----

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Simultaneously, Marcus, Burghard, and the rest of the surviving cavalry crashed into the rear of the Milanese center.

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The effect was instantaneous. Suddenly surrounded on all sides, the Milanese infantry panicked.

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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.

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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.

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In desperation, the Duke’s cavalry charged into the foot knights on the left flank of the Bavarian line.

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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.

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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.

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The Duke escaped, but this minor victory was to be very short-lived.

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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.

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The result was predictable.

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**Tamur** · 08-11-2007, 06:55

Placeholder for Fritz' battle against Polish cavalry, 1272

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**Cecil XIX** · 08-13-2007, 08:57

The Siege

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.”

***

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At last, they had arrived. Bran was before them.

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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.

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As the Armored Sergeants entered the castle, Sigismund was halfway to the second gate.

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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.

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“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.

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“How dare they show their backs to us! Double time, attack!”

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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.

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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.

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As expected, it was an easy task. The Armored Sergeants assault soon cost the King control of that gates.

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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.

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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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**TinCow** · 08-14-2007, 00:31

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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.

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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.

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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.

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“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.

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“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.

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“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.

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“…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

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“…to that which awaits…”

“…before Christ Almighty…”

A lance pierced a man of shining steel. The world roared around him.

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“…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.

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**Tamur** · 08-15-2007, 14:49

The Battle at Yelin Stones
West of Hamburg, 1274

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Fast by the stones they stood
Fell men of fealty proven
No rite they performed there that day
But stood taunting icy foes onward.

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Ragged battle line of limber men
Rushed right over the rimed ground
Shouting their warcries to heavens
Bathed in their nostrils' white breath.

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Endless line of archers armed
Each eager for everlasting glory
Broke heaving line with aim true
Leveled countless strong men running.

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Cries come together in battle
Clash of chilled steel calls onward
Strong men of Reich stand ready
As wicked wave breaks, falls to gravel.

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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.

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Woe to vanquished foe running
While warlust brings warhorses on
The day of their doom ends with din
Of hooves winging white earth upward.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

**GeneralHankerchief** · 08-17-2007, 04:00

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

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“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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

…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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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…

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

…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.

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.

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“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?

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

**OverKnight** · 08-17-2007, 05:36

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."

**OverKnight** · 08-23-2007, 10:19

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

**Northnovas** · 08-23-2007, 17:12

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.

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“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”

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“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.

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“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.

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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?”

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“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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**Ituralde** · 08-26-2007, 14:53

Northern Germany, 1282:

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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.

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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.

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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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

**FactionHeir** · 08-27-2007, 08:40

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.

**Stuperman** · 08-27-2007, 18:57

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.

On the field of Battle they lined up facing eac other, Jens knew that this would be his burial site.

"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.

'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.

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.

**Stuperman** · 08-27-2007, 19:29

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.

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.

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.

With Gerhard Behind the lines and thier general dead, the enemy quickly route.

Butcher's bill:

**GeneralHankerchief** · 08-28-2007, 17:38

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

"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..."

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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!!!"

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

"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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

**econ21** · 08-28-2007, 22:32

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.”

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

“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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

“@#$%^&!!! 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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

*****

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

**OverKnight** · 09-06-2007, 08:16

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.

**Cecil XIX** · 09-08-2007, 18:08

“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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

When they reached the Hungarians, he found that the battlefield would take place right next to a Monastery.

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“Would that I were Prague, overseeing the construction of such buildings.”

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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!”

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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!”

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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!”

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The Knights of the second Austrian Household army advanced quickly around the Imperial left. They made their presence known, and decisively.

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After having endured arrow, foot and horse the Hungarians finally began began to crack.

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Captain Georgius was able to escape the melee, though that did not save him.

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The battle was over quickly and decisively.

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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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

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“Open fire!” shouted Becker.

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Edmund was content to watch the carnage, but it soon became apparent that the rebels were trying to flank him.

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“Tell everyone to wheel clockwise! Quickly!”

Soon the army moved with what speed it could muster to face the enemy.

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Fortunately it was successful, and many of the rebels fled immediately upon contact.

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Things were made easier when the Brigand Captain fell to an Imperial blade.

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Soon the rebels were running for the hills, and the battle was over.

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The Knights captured as many as they could, but a scant few were still able to escape justice.

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Edmund sighed contentedly once the battle was over.

**Ferret** · 09-10-2007, 22:25

Placeholder for the battle on the road to Jedda

**Cecil XIX** · 09-12-2007, 05:54

“My lord, what have I done to deserve this?”

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

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“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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

Meanwhile, a fierce battle was being waged on the hill before Edmund with Wilhelm fighting valiantly at the forefront.

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During a lull in the fighting, Edmund consulted with one of his adjutants.

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“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.”

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

“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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

With a glance to his left, he saw something that made his blood run cold.

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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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

“Here he comes, lads! Let’s show him that The E-“

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“-Right, that’s enough. Let’s go!”

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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!”

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As the got further and further away, Becker glanced behind him.

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“At least I’ve got something to be proud of,” Edmund thought as his men made their escaped.

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***

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

“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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.”

**GeneralHankerchief** · 09-13-2007, 17:07

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

"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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

"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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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!"

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

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."

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

**OverKnight** · 09-14-2007, 14:20

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.

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