Battle Reports

[Cecil XIX]

Placeholder

[Ibn-Khaldun]

Nothing to see here. Wrong post

[OverKnight]

The Battle of Adrianople, 1129

The night after he heard the Turkish Jihad army had crossed at the Hellespont and was closing in on the capital from the west, it is said Basileus Aleksios had a dream. In it, the Turks had surrounded Constantinople with a massive army. They built gigantic cylinders of iron and bronze that spit fire, rending the once impregnable Walls of Theodosius. The capital was oddly changed in the dream, where there was once a thriving metropolis, much of the city was now abandoned amounting to isolated villages amongst ruins. The defenders were few, and in the that nightmare the jewel of the Roman Empire was taken when a small gate was left unbarred and unwatched. The Turks poured in, and in a valiant but futile gesture, the Basileus threw off his crown and waded in among them to die with a sword in his hand.

Waking from the dream, Aleksios marched out of the city to meet the Turks in the open field. They were led by Sultan Burak and Crown Prince Mehmed as the two armies met at Adrianople.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Basileus deployed his infantry in two lines with the archers behind. The foot were in loose formation, for the Turks had many horse archers. Skythikon were deployed to either side with Aleksios commanding the right and his trusted man Apionnas Vringas on the left.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Turk horse archers advanced on the right. . .

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

. . .and the left.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Arrows flew between the two armies as men fell on both sides. The Basileus held his men in position though, waiting to wear down the Turk's skirmishers before bringing his superior numbers in foot to bear.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Seeing Turkish javilen men advance towards his own bodyguard unsupported, the Basileus charged.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Sending them to flight, he wheeled to the left to charge another unit of them.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Having returned to his lines, the Basileus charged again when the javelin men who survived dared return.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

With the Turkish skirmishers worn down, the Imperial infantry closed ranks and advanced. At the same time, Turk light cavalry charged the Basileus.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The horsemen met, but two regiments of alert Imperial spearmen broke off their advance to catch the Turk cavalry in the flank.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

After the cavalry was destroyed, the Imperial line reformed to begin their assault on the main Turk line.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

On the left Apionnas Vringas, no lover of the Turk, led his men crashing into Crown Prince Mehmed.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Basileus, on the other side, swung around the short Turkish line and took the Sultan in the flank.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Turkish infantry melted under the onslaught. As they took flight, spearmen surrounded the Sultan and Crown Prince. Over a hundred would later claim they were the ones to bring Burack down.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The rout was on after that.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Crown Prince Mehmed tried to flee, but he was brought down by the swifter Skythikon. The victory was complete as the Turk army was utterly destroyed.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[Ibn-Khaldun]

Road near Alexandria, 1129

After Efstathios heard from the locals that some brigands are robbing everyone who try to enter Alexandria he quickly decided to destroy them. Taking with him his Skythikon unit he marched outside the city to west.

After some time they met some people who said that the brigands are close. Efstathios was surprised to hear that the leader of those rebels is Christian named Henry.

They continued their way to west and suddenly they saw an army over 400 men moving towards them. Efstathios realized that there is no way they could run away nor did he want to run away.

So Efstathios gave a little speech for his men..

"Now we come to it. A few heartbeats and all will be decided. Let us make sure that the decision is OURS!!"

With that he and his bodyguards moved forward to meet the enemy while his Skythikons were sent on his left flank to distract the enemy cavalry. But everything went wrong from the start..

Enemy archers started to bombard them with arrows. One volley after another. And when Efstathios finally got to them he already had lost 2 men. The revenge was sweat though. They cut down almost all those archers.

The mamluks did not however start to chase Skythikons. Instead they turned and attacked Efstathios and suddenly Efstathios and his men were surrounded by enemy. Nubian spearmen closing into them. Efstathios managed to yell to the Skythikons to retreat and soon after that there was just him and Ioannis, his loyal bodyguard who represented him in the Magnaura, left.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

They killed many others before the rebels managed to kill Efstathios and Ioannis.

"Lets make sure that no greek bastard would never come here again. Cut down their leaders head and put it on a stake. Let it be clear what happens to the greeks who come here!" said the rebel leader known as Henry.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[_Tristan_]

Battle of the Pyramids
Cairo, 1131

Write-up coming soon

[Privateerkev]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

This battle takes place a couple days after this story.

Antioch 1134

Makedonios wakes up with a start from his nightmare again. Instinctively his left hand shoots out and feels nothing. He looks over where she lay just 24 hours before. Leaning over, he can smell her on his pillow. Glancing over her side of the bed, he sees one of her hairpins. It must have fallen out when she undid her hair. He could still see her perfectly. Sitting on top of him and smiling as she let her hair drape over her beautiful shoulders.

A loud bang at the door snapped him out of it.

"What is it?!?"

"Sorry sir but the last reinforcements have arrived. You said you wanted to be notified."

"Alright, I'll be down."

He took a minute to tie a string around the hairpin and hang it around his neck. He tucked it down under his shirt over his heart.

----------------------------------------------------------------

The great hall of the chapter-house had been turned into a command center. Maps and reports were laid out on tables. People ran in and out to give and receive orders. Makedonios strolled in. Someone handed him a cup of mint tea. "Alright, get me up to speed."

Ioannis, his veteran warrior, looked up from the map table and gave his report. "Alright, you, Brother Bart, and 2 units of spear militia are in the city. Brother Nathanail sailed north and has just arrived outside the wall. He has been joined by Marshall Armatos. The Marshall brought both units of horse archers from the Order's army. The peasant archer on the way to the army was turned around and has made it back. The Marshall took the money you gave him and hired 2 units of Turcopoles. Kalameteros took the money you gave him and hired 2 units of Armenian Cavalry and a unit of Alan Cavalry. He sent them towards us and they have arrived not long ago. We have a total of 808 men. Everyone is ready."

Makedonios asked, "What are we facing?"

Ioannis consulted a report. "The Templar army is led by one Manfred Karolinger. They have 7 sergeant spearmen units, 4 peasant units, 3 pilgrim units, 1 peasant archer unit, 2 horse archers, and 2 mounted sergeants. They number 1921."

Makedonios sipped his tea and thought. "Alright, our spears will go out the gate up the middle and sit out of their range. Bart and I will go off on the right. Signal the merc cav to come in on our left. And signal Brother Armatos and get him to bring his men behind the enemy. Draw their skirmishers out and take care of them. Kill their general. Then, unload our arrows on their infantry. When we're out of arrows, we surround them and charge."

He looks around at his men and saw they were eager for battle. "Good luck and God be with you. Dismissed!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The battle went as planned. The spears went up the middle and sat. Mak and Bart went off to the right. Merc cav ran in and sat off the near left. Armatos and the rest came in on the far left and ran up across the hill to get behind the Templar army. One mounted sergeant came after Mak and Bart and got destroyed. The rest of the enemy cavalry went after Armatos. 4 units of horse archers laid into the enemy cav and kept up a skirmisher line. Armatos and Nathanail went in and took out who the arrows missed. Karolinger fell off his horse and was captured. The battle was over but the rest of the enemy army did not know it yet.

The infantry just sat there at the bottom of the hill facing the city. The peasant archers and 4 horse archers laid volley after volley into the infantry. When their arrows were finally exhausted, half of the enemy were dead. All of the Order's cavalry took up positions all around the enemy army. At once, they all charged. Hitting the army from all directions, there was a mass rout. Surrounded, most of the enemy fought to the end. Still, 888 were captured.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Makedonios got off his horse and walked over to the prisoners. He turned to Ioannis. "What is the tally?"

"We lost 48 men. Killed 985. We have 888 prisoners including one Manfred Karolinger. And I sent all the mercenaries home on your orders."

The Megas walked up to the Templar general. The man was nursing a nasty leg wound but it looked like he would live. "Sir Karolinger, I hope my men have made you comfortable."

Manfred stared at Mak before relenting. "They have binded my wounds. I thank you." He looks around for a moment. "What will happen to my men?"

Mak shrugged. "They are free to go. Same with yourself. We'll give you a cart and some horses so you can travel."

It is clear that Manfred is surprised. "That is... very good of you. I must say I did not expect this treatment."

Another shrug. "We're all men of God Sir Karolinger. You just worship him a little differently than we do. Plus, I have terms I'd like you to send to your Grandmaster. Tell him I expect the Order of the Knight's Templar to immediately disband. We had been neighbors for decades in peace. Now, in light of your unwarranted aggression, we demand Tortosa."

Manfred chuckled lightly. "I doubt my Grandmaster will take that well. I'll tell him. The Holy Father encouraged us to expand so we could better protect German Jerusalem. We saw an opening and decided to take it. The Levant will be a Catholic Levant."

Makedonios shook his head no. "Not if I can help it..."

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Makedonios gained the "quite merciful" trait for releasing the prisoners.

[Ituralde]

Dyarbakir, 1134:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

My internet connection ate my screenshots. I'm gonna go looking for them later.

"Ah, they've decided to come out. Get moving!" A pleased smile playing on his lips Pavlos leaves the tent, already tucking on his gauntlets. He was shadowed by his nephew Christos, who once outside, marches off to mobilize the camp.

The scout reports had been a bit sketchy ever since they arrived here. There seemed to be many men under arms arrayed against him. Just this morning it had been confirmed that most of them were Javelinmen and Azabs though. The latter being some form of Turkish Militia. Not high quality, but Pavlos was outnumbered two to one and the garrison of the city would be led my the Lord of Dyabakir and Crown Prince of the Seljuks.

Scratching his clean shaven cheek Pavlos stares up at the sky. He had observed all the rituals and a lonely black raven had been seen coming in from the North and circling the encampment. The exact number was not clear though. His scouts hadn't paid attention. Ioannis Kantakouzinos and his men lay to the north. Did he circle two times meaning that they would reach him today or three times meaning a delay of several days? Grumbling to himself he mounts his horse.

______________


The battle field was on the rolling hills of the Anatolikon. The ground gave way to the South and Pavlos positioned his men as far north as possible. The enemy would have to come at him upslope. The main enemy force was led by a Seljuk Captain with the Crown Prince expected to arrive from Dyabarkir.

Pavlos couldn't wait for them to join the Seljuk forces so his men advanced. The Azabs and Javelinmen were an uncoordinated mess with their famed Horse Archers sprining into action immediatelly. Pavlos led the head of the attack followd by his Byzantine Lancers.

While they engaged the Horse Archers, the Archers from Trebizond rained fiery death on the milling masses of the Seljuk conscripts. The battle was tumoultus but the Byzantines seemed to have the upper hand.

Suddenly the arrows seemed to fall thicker on the enemies and the first of them began to rout. The thundering of the ground spoke of a Cavalry charge and as Pavlos looked to the North he could clearly make out the streamers bearing the colours of Kantakouzinos. It had been two times then!

With the combined force of Byzantine Cavalry, Skythikon and their bodyguards the Seljuks were driven off quickly. Just as the last fled the field the approaching Crown Prince could be made out.

With double the men available Pavlos formed them up in a slight angle blocking the approach of the Seljuk forces. The Bodyguards were stationed on the right flank, lending support to Kantakouzinos Town Militia, while the Dismounted Byzantine Lancers held the left flank.

The rest of the Cavalry was sent to skirmish and draw the enemy into the trap.

It worked beautifully. The enemy was greeted by a hail of arrows from Horsemen and Infantry alike. With the enemy pocketed in the Town Militia and Bodyguards were able to flank the enemy and catch them from behind. The Seljuk Crown Prince chose to impale himself on the Byztantine Dismounted Lancers, occupying the left flank, nothing more.

The fighting was over quickly and the pursuit could begin.

______________


Pavlos face was set in a scowl as he stared up towards the walls of Dyarbakir. He was a grizzly sight, his armour still splattered in blood. In his right he held his sword upright and in his left the head of the recently deceased Crown Prince!

"People of Dyarbakir! I bring you the head of the foreign oppressor that has plagued you for so long! You saw what happens to those who oppose us. Open the doors and you may escape their fate!"

He points to his right from where the moans and cries of death had filled the morning air for the last hour or so. All that remained of the prisoners taken were their mutilated bodies. They had been arrayed in front of the walls and slaughtered by his men for all of Dyarbakir to see.

It took not long before the gates opened to welcome their new Lords.

[Smowz]

Somewhere between Iconium and Adana

Nevoulas ek Philadelphius looked over the battlefield with some confidence. On the inside he was in shreds. For some years Nevoulas had come to be known as a quiet low achieving nobleman of this growing empire. Now it was time to earn his keep.

They say some are born into to greatness and that some have greatness thrust upon them. Late last night Nevoulas' worst fears were confirmed, much like in Rhodes Ioannis was ill. This time however the fever was sudden. With the forces comprised of Asteris very own and given Nevoulas' similar build and hieght to Ioannis it was decided that Nevoulas would ride out in Ioannis battle gear and take command of the units.

The instructions were simple seek and destroy the Egyptian Jihad.

They were found and the battle was set.



Nevoulas summised that he must keep his ground troops together and huddled up the highest mound in the area. The bloodthirsty jihad would no doubt be enticed into a dangerous and foolhardy charge up there. This would even the odds somewhat between the soldiers of the jihad army and the part time militia of the Asteri army.

Nevoulas would take himself and the other general units with him to seek out the enemy general. He had a feeling that with the enemy general dead the numbers in the Egyptian army would count for nothing.

Nevoulas and Nikiphoras' inexperience counted against them and many loyal men were lost as the 60 mounted units were reduced in number, however a strike by one of Ioannis' bodyguard would take the enemy commander out of play and to a sandy grave.

With this done and the enemy ground forces now invading our poorly equipped forces (albeing uphill) the boduguard units set to attacking from the side and behind.

This proved the decisive move in the battle as the enemy units now leaderless started to los numbers in shocking amounts. It became almost a healthy competition amongst the bodyguard whom could take the most foes. This jihad was OVER!!!!

[Ituralde]

South of Yerevan, 1137:

Night:

Azzim watched the cloud of fog escaping his mouth as he breathed. The temperature was freezing and the moist air made his cloth cling. They had been roused about an hour ago. Byzantine soldiers had been seen in the vicinity. Surely this couldn't be right. Their general had been seen moving south towards Dyarbakir. He was probably sieging it right now, if the Crown Prince hadn't defeated them yet. Even then it would take the harshest of taskmasters to rally his men back here in this time. It just couldn't be. It probably was a false alarm.

A faint whirring noise pulled Azzim out of his reverie. He cocked his head to listen. Couldn't that be. Didn't that almost sound like. Turning to his comrade to voice his oppinion he was greeted by a loud tchuck! Azzim stared in disbelief at the arrow portruding from his comrades chest before realization hit him. Gripping his spear tighter he turned towards the foggy night: "Attack! We are under attack!"

Once again Azzim and his fellow Javelinmen were greeted by arrows coming out of the dark night. His comrades fell all around him and it was all that Azzim could do to cling on to his spear as another volley descended upon them. Azzim felt a warm sensation on his hip and realized that an arrow had struck him. Gripping his spear tighter he remains standing while the earth begins to shake. Staring out into the darkness he blinks away the sweat that had appeared on his brow.

He tried to focus and once he could see clearly his eyes went wide! A giant horse came galloping out of the fog It was the last thing he saw before a Byzantine lance gutted him.


Day:

Casim watched the cloud of fog escaping his mouth as he breathed. The temperature was freezing and the moist air made his cloth cling. They had been roused about an hour ago. Byzantine soldiers had been seen in the vicinity. Surely this couldn't been right. They had only laid siege to Yerevan about a month ago and their Southern flank was guarded by a large company of Javelinmen. Nothing would get past them for now. The only thing that would come out of that fog would be their reinforcements. It probably was a false alarm.

A faint whirring noise pulled Casim out of his reverie. The Javelinmen to his left and right looked as preplexed as he did, but as he turned he realized that the Horse Archers arrayed behind them had begun firing their bows. Volley after volley they sent into the dense fog and then he could hear the whinying of horses and the cries of men as they were struck by arrows. Gripping his spear tighter he turned towards the foggy day: "Attack! We are under attack!"

He tried to focus and once he could see clearly his eyes went wide! A giant horse came galloping out of the fog. It was the last thing he saw before a Byzantine lance gutted him.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Here will be Screenshots

[Privateerkev]

Adana 1135:

Makedonios was in his command tent outside Adana looking at a map table. Ever since the Templars started the war, the challenge was ending the war while retaking Adana. Staring at the map, Makedonios got an idea.

"Ioannis, come over here."

His veteran warrior came over. "Yes sir?"

Mak stared at the map. "I have an idea. Have us siege this castle here. But order Nathanail to meet up with the old Order army outside of Tortosa. Tell him to run if attacked. And if pursued, to fight and withdrawal. We need to get that army back out of Tortosa. Now... where are our spies?"

Adana 1137:

The camp outside Adana was a flurry of activity. While people were quickly packing up the headquarters, Makedonios was still staring at his map and barking out orders. Everything had gone perfectly. The Turks sallied at the end of last year and we're defeated. Adana was occupied and back in Order hands. The Templars had chased after Nathanail and their army was now out of the castle. Makedonios smiled. Time for phase two...

A few weeks later:

Makedonios lay behind a sand dune with his army. They had just sailed over from Adana. Over the dune was the castle of Tortosa, the Templar headquarters. The Grandmaster of the Templars had just hired 3 units of Muslim archers but that was it. The rest of the Templars were off chasing Nathanail around the Levant. In the silence of the night, he could hear the muted sounds of battle and then the gate went up. The two spies he had sent into the castle had done their job.

Under the cover of night, the army ran over the dune and towards the castle. Lookouts finally sounded an alarm but it was too late. The whole army ran through the gates. Some spears ran for the Templar Grandmaster while others mobbed the archers as they poured down from the walls. The Templar Grandmaster was brought down in battle and the castle was occupied. The Templars were disbanded.

Next year:

Wanting to do one last thing before his term ended, Makedonios left Theo in Tortosa while he took the army to Acre. Nathanail recruited mercs from Nicosia and sailed them over. The Fatimid's sallied. While Mak's army was ground down to a nub, the castle was occupied.

After occupying 3 provinces in quick succession, word has spread about Makedonios. It became well known that if he captured you, or took your settlement, that you would be safe. The Muslims started calling him "the Chivalrous."

The Levant was almost complete. Only one more province remained before the Order finally fulfilled their Charter...

[Ramses II CP]

Dongola, 1138

Darkness in the desert could be absolute. It was rare for clouds to completely cover the starlight, but tonight not even the thin new moon could penetrate their heavy layers. The heat of the day evaporated rapidly into a frigid, uncomfortable night in which Vissarionas ek Lesvou's guardsmen tossed in their blankets. Vissa himself was not asleep. He sat, facing west, in the darkness and listened carefully to the wind. There was something new in the wind tonight, a ghost of a sound floating over the dunes.

With an abrupt motion Vissa lurched up from his perch and began picking his way through the simply made little camp his men had drawn up by habit. The maps showed a Fatamid outpost guarding trade routes out of the southern deserts, and eventually Vissa meant to capture it, but for now he and the men were simply moving from day to day as their water and supplies allowed. They met no one, being scrupulously ignored by what few Bedouin travelled so far south and avoiding the few farmsteads along the riverbanks.

At the edge of the camp Vissa could smell the horses, but he could not see them. What he could see, in the indeterminate distance, was a faint, flickering light. A fire. Fire meant men, and men could be trouble. With no more thought than that Vissa strode out into the desert, moving quickly but silently across the sands, his feet never pausing nor stumbling as though guided by an invisible hand.

Gradually the tiny light became more clear, and it grew obvious that figures were moving between it and him in a sort of pattern. The sound on the wind resolved into drumbeats. Vissa kept moving closer.

Some distance later another sound intruded on his conciousness, a thin, whining sound, like the warbling of some crude flute. While there were many drums playing there was but a single flute, and it played in rhythmic counterpoint to the drums. When they accelerated, it declined, when they rested it sped ahead with vigor. The effect was matched by the dancing of the men around the fire, who leapt and whirled rapidly when the drums were pounding, but slowed to a more stately pace when the beats subsided and the flute took over.

Gradually Vissa became aware of more men around him in the darkness as he drew nearer to the fire. Their black, dusky skin reflected little of the firelight, but the gleam of their dark eyes was occassionally visible. He was now near enough to the fire to observe the dance and even glimpse the drummers at the edges of the circle of firelight, but whatever made the curious flute-like sounds remained invisible. After a few moments of his watching the tone of the drums dimmed and the keening of the flute sped up, somehow signalling a change in the dance. The men who had been dancing retired and the men around Vissa rushed forward to take their places around the fire. Vissa found himself swept up along with them, and as had become his custom he simply surrendered himself to it.

Quickly then the hammering of the drums picked up once more and the dance truly began. There were no words, no songs, to go along with this dance for such a complex construction would have undermined the elegance of the drum's elemental commands. They instructed the body to move, and the body moved, leaving the mind behind in some other space. Neither the other dancers nor the drummers took any note of Vissa's entry into the dance, they carried on as though he had always been there.

In time the drums relaxed, releasing the dancers, and the flute rose up. Where the dance had been vigorous and energetic, it now collapsed into slow turns and simple steps. In place of that energy the rising frenzy of the flute compounded thought and somehow mimicked the motions of the dance in the mental motions within the dancers. Memories washed over Vissa, showing him scenes from his life in a new light and pushing him towards new conclusions. His sole coherent thought was, 'I have thought too much, spoken too much. I have not listened enough. God is not great? Say simply, God is not.'

And with that the flute's intricate melody withdrew once more and the drums slammed back into life. Vissa and his group rushed away from the fire to stand together in the darkness, breathing roughly but still without words.

Thus the night passed. At one point the group Vissa was with took a turn on the drums, and Vissa felt his way along with no difficulty. At no point did anyone speak. After a period of time impossible to judge the clouds at last scattered overhead, letting through the pale, pure moonlight and in the very same instant the high pitched notes of the flute broke off. The men sat back on their haunches for a moment, looking at each other, but still none among them took any more notice of Vissa than of their fellows. After a few minutes they began to stretch out on the sand, laying their heads on their hands and arms.

In the morning Vissa led the dark skinned strangers back to his camp. His Greek guardsmen were wary at first, but warmed quickly when the new men brought out meat and bread for a meal. Later that day a messenger arrived from the Megas and presented Vissa with an unopened envelope. Vissa tore it open and found money within, which he gave to the new men. There was also a letter, which he disinterestedly allowed to drop onto the ground unread.

Now Vissarionas drove his men on to Dongola with a will, and a siege was quickly put in place. During the siege another message would arrive with more money and another letter, each of which went the way of those before. More of the natives gathered to Vissa's side, and he welcomed them unquestioningly. At last the time came for the assault.

Vissa sent two companies of the foot against the west wall and two against the north wall, while overseeing the battle from a position near the north gate. Progress was good against the men to the north with Vissa there to send up orders, and the wall was soon taken.



The west, where the Fatamid captain chose to make his stand, was less successful. The men made poor use of their ladders and took a close range shower of javelins before engaging. Eventually the first company of swordsmen broke and ran from their foe. When word of this reached Vissa he immediately rode west to head off the fleeing men, and order a fresh assault. Reaching the runners from his own army Vissa and his guardsmen rode among them killing at will, such that very few of them indeed escaped the battle. Those who did survive would return the next day, unashamedly, and rejoin their fellows.



With that taken care of Vissa returned to the assault, and oversaw the final destruction of the Fatamid javelineers. No prisoners were taken.



At the square Vissa watched the locals begin to gather, and took in their dusky black skin and dark gazes dispassionately. His guardsmen stood on edge, prepared to unleash violence at his order. At last Vissa roused himself from staring out into that deep pool of eyes to say,

"Dongola now owes fealty to the Byzantine Empire and the Order of St. John. God's price for this place has been paid, return to your homes in peace and await God's messenger."



Soon, very soon, Vissa would have to ride again... but not yet.

[OverKnight]

The Sally against the Moors, Constantinople, 1140

For the first time in 400 years the capital of the Roman Empire was besieged. Aleksios considered it a personal insult, despite all he had tried to do to restore the Empire, the enemy had never been this close under the rule of his incompetent predecessors.

To erase this stain on his legacy, the Moors would have to be quickly exterminated. There would be no waiting for an attack, the garrison would sally out.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The archers started on the walls and the infantry, lead by the Basileus, gathered at the southern gate facing the enemy. Apionnas Vringas and Theophilus Tzimiskis and their bodyguards, along with a regiment of Skythikons, were at the western gate. Isaakios Komnenos, the Basileus' youngest son, Philippos Eirinikos and two regiments of Skythikons were at the east gate.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Faced with arrow fire, the Moors fell back into a defensive position. Aleksios led his infantry outside the gate into a cul-de-sac formed by the walls. A few Moor horse archers headed back north to trade vollies but were overcome by the Roman archers on the walls.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

By then the cavalry had sallied from the city to engage the Moors on the flanks. The few Desert Archers left to the Moorish General Wasim ibn Salim galloped out to engage the Skythikon, but were caught by Senators Vringas and Tzimiskis.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Knowing he was short of archers, Ibn Salim charged in to rescue them. His bodyguards were the only heavy cavalry he had.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

A sharp battle developed but he was repulsed as well. In a bizarre move, the Moor decided to charge across the battlefield and attack Isaakios and Eirinikos.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

His bodyguard already weakened, Ibn Salim was surrounded and killed.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Now that the Moors had lost their leader and their archers, the Basileus decided to bring his infantry and foot archers forward.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

As the main Roman line advanced, the cavalry on the flanks continued to torment the Moors. The incessant vollies of the Skythikon would incite the Moorish infantry to charge them. Away from their line, they were easy pickings for the bodyguards of the Senators.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Bloodied already, the Moorish infantry soon came under attack from the approaching Roman foot archers. Arrow bit, they charged and the lines met.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Roman cavalry on the flanks charged the Moors from behind, joined by the Varangians of the Basileus. The Moors collapsed and the pursuit was on.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Moorish Jihad was wiped out. The few survivors were killed when a ransom offer was refused.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[_Tristan_]

Merciless
Gaza, 1141


Captain Fahim contemplated one last time the receding backs of the Byzantine kataphraktoi before entering the tower and the stairs leading down, hoping that the men were only a mirage caused by the merciless sun.

The men had come with a message for the Sultan and Fahim had no wish to act as messenger in this case. Bakr, the Sultan, had never been a mild tempered man but being cooped up in Gaza for some years now had done nothing to improve his mood. Far and wide, he was now known as Bakr the Merciless, as merciless as the sun that beat on Fahim’s plumed helmet, sweat running down his brow, part of it due to the sun fiery gaze and part due to the fear that wrung a knot in his belly.

Crossing the castle grounds to reach the keep where the Sultan resided, Fahim saw how much the siege had taken its toll among the men. What had formerly been proud Arab cavalry were now forced to fight on foot, the horses having long been cooked and eaten to sustain the garrison. Even though, many of the men had died already. Still, the Byzantine refused to storm the walls, to the increasing puzzlement of the defenders. In the distance, Fahim and his companions had witnessed the building of rams and siege towers but these remained far from the walls, unused.

But now, the riders had come and Fahim feared his world would change very soon.

Guards at the gates to the keep let him in without even giving him a salute. The morale of the men was low, as was expected, their mood sullen.

Making his way up the keep to the throne room, Fahim struggled to repress the tremors that threatened to shake him out of his boots. The message he was carrying felt like a death warrant.

Finally, walking in to the throne room, he saw the Sultan sitting gloomily on his throne, listening to some report by one of the court officials. The Sultan was still a young man with a lush black beard, a heavy silk turban on his head. Over his fine silken robes, he wore a cuirass and a heavy bladed scimitar dangled from a belt, resting by his leg. Rumor had it that in bouts of fury, the Sultan would lash out with this same blade, lobbing heads of the bodies of those who had the temerity to displease him.

Watching the blade, Fahim could hardly repress a shudder. At that exact moment, a lull in the official’s report allowed the Sultan’s gaze to fall upon him. Unable to curb his fear any longer under that malevolent gaze, Fahim fell to the ground in what he hoped would appear as a respectful bow.

Struggling to steady his voice, he spoke up, still looking at the ground. “My Lord, the Byzantines have ridden to our walls with a message… For you..”

Fahim heard the Sultan shift in his seat. “What message, fool ? What can those dogs have to say that is worthy of my ears ?” the Sultan said with barely contained anger.

Fahim gulped. Living as a soldier all his life, he had often contemplated death. He had imagined he would meet it on some sandy battlefield, pierced by an arrow or cut down by a sword-cut, with the heat of battle in his blood and the promise of virgins in the afterlife in his mind’s eye to soften his departure from this world. Now Death with a turban loomed over him, unforgiving and cold. He forced himself to swallow the bile that rose in his throat.

“Speak up, man… Or I’ll have your head off !!” the Sultan said, smacking his hand on the pommel of his scimitar. “What did that dog Stavros want ? An another offer of surrender ?”

Spurred by the threat, Fahim gathered his faltering courage and answered. “It was not Stavros, my Lord…” Stavros, Fahim knew, was the name of the Byzantine general that lay siege to the castle. Regularly, he would come forward with offers of surrender. All were refused. “The man said his name was Methodios Tagaris.”

Looking up at the Sultan, Fahim noticed his lord was clearly taken aback by the name. Tagaris, the butcher of Alexandria… The atrocities committed on the defenders of the city by the general had been the talk of the men for long months after the act.

Clearly shaken, Bakr asked : “What did he want ? Does he think that because he could kill a few peasants we would surrender to him, out of fear ? Pfah !!” Bakr spat “Here’s to surrender…”

Fahim slowly shook his head. “No, he was not offering terms of surrender…”

Muttering a prayer to Allah the Merciful, Fahim delivered his message to Bakr the Merciless “He said you must be the son of a pig to wallow in the mud of this castle and take pleasure in it…” Fahim said in a rush, before taking a gulp of air, and continuing. “He said you were a filthy coward, hiding behind walls manned by an army of peasants… He said you must be an eunuch to prefer the company of men to the company of your concubines… He said…”

“Enough !!!” The cry cut short Fahim’s breathless flow. A look to the Sultan was enough to make Fahim have a glimpse of the verdant pastures where the virgins were waiting him I Allah’s gardens. The Sultan’s face had turned crimson with rage, his features contorted by fury. He had drawn his scimitar and was now approaching Fahim with its point headed for the kneeling man’s throat. “I’ve heard enough of that man’s insults.” The blade of the scimitar came to rest upon Fahim’s jugular vein. Each beating of his heart sent blood pumping through the vein, the vein itself beating against the sharp edge of the blade, breaking the skin and drawing a pearl of blood.

Knowing he would surely die soon, Fahim told the last of his message. “That was not all, my Lord… The man said that if you wanted to prove him wrong, you could meet him in battle outside the gates. He swore an oath that should you win the fight, the siege would end at once and all Greeks would withdraw from Palestine. Should he win…”

“I know full well what that means…” The Sultan said, cutting Fahim’s faltering speech. Withdrawing his sword from the captain’s neck and putting it back into its scabbard, Bakr turned to his assembled captains.

“Men, ready your men… Rasheed, saddle my horse and my lance… I’ll shove it up his…”

The rest was lost to Fahim, as his mind tried to grasp the fact that he was still alive. He couldn’t believe it. He was alive. He would go back to his farm, his wife, his kids… He would go bath in the Nile.. He would…

“You !!” The shout brought Fahim out of his dream. Looking up, he saw the Sultan looking at him. “Yes, you… The messenger… You’ll ride with me in my bodyguard so you can point the man Tagaris to me… Understood ?”

Fahim could only nod, all his dreams of happiness crushed in a moment.

*******

Two hours later, the whole Gaza garrison was assembled at the gates. Lookouts on the gates had spotted the Byzantine general awaiting word from the Sultan some distance from the gates.



Fahim had been given a horse and a lance and was now among the other bodyguards sitting their horses just behind the Sultan’s own charger.

Relief was mixed with fear and caused Fahim to mutter prayers to Allah both in thanks for protecting from the Sultan’s wrath and in hope of salvation in the upcoming fight.

A grinding noise was the first sign Fahim had that the fight was about to begin. The noise signaled the raising of the heavy iron grate barring the gates of the castle.

With cries of “Allahu Akbar”, the men rushed forth out of the gates. Though reluctant to send his horse forward, the sheer press of the men around him pushed his horse forward.



“That Byzantine is no coward” Fahim thought as he witnessed the man led his knights into a frontal charge into the mass of Bakr’s men trying to assemble outside the gates.

Fahim watched with expectation as the knights were engulfed into the mass of men. The javelins of the Kurds wreaked havoc among the Byzantines, felling half of them from their horses. “Allah has chosen to grant us victory” he thought.

Suddenly, the Sultan stood in front of him. Lifting his helmet’s faceplate, the Sultan questioned him. “Where is Tagaris ? Point it out !!”

Looking into the fray, Fahim couldn’t see much of the Byzantine knights. Then, he got a glimpse of the man that had stood some hours earlier beneath the walls of the castle throwing insults at his Sultan. Fahim pointed. “There… That’s him !!”

The Sultan’s gaze went to where Fahim pointed and located his nemesis. Turning his horse with a vicious kick of his spurs, the Sultan howled “Tagaris !!” and with another powerful kick rushed his horse in that direction. The entire bodyguard followed pulling Fahim along.

The Byzantines had heard the coming of the Sultan’s bodyguards and broke the fight, running beneath the walls towards the safety of the besiegers’ camp.

With shouts of joy, the Sultan and his bodyguards gave chase. Bakr would not let out of his sight the man that had insulted him, insulted his manhood, insulted his honor.



Little by little, the truth began to dawn in Fahim’s mind. The Byzantines were not running away, they were drawing the Sultan and his bodyguard were they wanted him. There was nothing he could do but try to stay alive.

As they neared the enemy camp, Fahim saw the purple cross banner of Stavros flown by another unit of knight. The Sultan was so intent on catching his prey that he didn’t seem to notice the presence of the newcomers until they slammed into the flank of his own bodyguard.
Tagaris chose that moment to have his men turn around and charge into the already engaged bodyguards. They were joined by a unit of spearmen.



Fahim saw the Sultan fall at the hands of Tagaris and soon found himself one of the only men accompanying the Sultan left alive. Knowing it was a lost cause, they broke and ran for the safety of the walls.



The Sultan had been so driven to catch the Byzantine general that he had cut himself off from the remainder of his men, and those were now running to catch up.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fahim saw Byzantine horse archers charge into the Kurds and rout them.




Some of the men, Fahim among them found refuge into the shade of one of the gate towers. The men around him beseeched their fellows on the other side to let them through but all the gate leverage mechanism had been sabotaged during the siege and needed to be repaired first before they could be allowed back in. Though not particularly a devout Muslim, Fahim found himself was again praying Allah for a swift repair of the gate mechanism.



Cowering into the relative safety of the walls gave him time to watch how the battle evolved.
He witnessed as one by one the dismounted Arab cavalrymen were charged by the now much reduced force of Tagaris and his men, and how one by one they broke on contact, the man surrounded by an aura of almost mystical power.









Unnoticed, some of the Byzantine managed to reach the walls with their ladders and gained the top of the walls unopposed running to man the gates where Fahim and the routers waited for their fellows to finally open the gates.



They finally managed to get raise the gates sufficiently to allow the men to enter the castle before letting the gate fall down. “Make for the drill square !!” Fahim shouted as he passed through the gate. He knew the cleared space in front of the keep would be their best chance to make a last stand.

“And now, I’ve taken command” he mused while pushing his horse forward, seeing as he passed the catapult crew trying to move their cumbersome machines towards that same square.



Sparing a look behind him he saw, the Byzantines man the gates through which he had just passed through and begin to raise the gate anew.



From the vantage point of the drill square, Fahim saw Byzantine cavalry ride down the ballista crew that was desperately trying to push back their weapons towards the safety of the wall. Knowing the outcome of the charge, he lowered his gaze, not wanting to witness the slaughter of his comrades. A minute later, there was not one man left standing.




All of a sudden, the clatter of hooves sounded near the square and Fahim witnessed Tagaris and two of his remaining men charge into a score of assembled dismounted cavalry men. When the riders turned, not one of the lancers were left alive.




Fahim ordered the few men still with him forward and managed to catch one of the bodyguards, leaving only Tagaris and one of his men. Fahim was surprised to see the Byzantine general remain out of square.



But soon he understood why he stayed away as a deluge of fire arrows struck around him and plunged the man on his right to a fiery death.



Another arrow took the man on his left in the neck, the man spurting blood out of his mouth.



Knowing his life was forfeit, Fahim spurred his horse forward, intent on claiming the life of the man that had ruined his life and his dreams. Through the slits of his visor, Fahim saw the the general and his follower rushed toward him with their lances down. Lowering his own lance, Fahim ducked under the bodyguard’ s lance and unhorsed him with his own.



Just as he regained his balance from the blow, Fahim had little time to realize that the blade of the Greek general was headed for his throat and all faded to black.



As he felt himself fall unendingly, Fahim’s mind flew towards the green pastures of Allah’s garden. He could already hear the giggles of the virgins and their voices calling his name…

******

Methodios jumped down his horse and stood looking at the body of the last defender of Gaza. A peaceful smile was spread across the man’s face, his unseeing eyes staring at the sunlit sky. Methodios recognized him as the same man to whom he had delivered his message earlier this day, the first part of his daring plan to lure the Sultan out of his castle.

“May you find peace in the afterlife, messenger… May your Lord have mercy” Methodios whispered as he bowed low to close the man’s eyes.

******

[_Tristan_]

The attack of the diw

Placeholder for the skirmishes near Medina, 1147.

[Rowan]

Battle for Damascus, 1152

Excerpts from the diary of Vartholomaios Ksiros, Marshall of the Order of St. John

July, 1152. After a surprisingly easy march through the the mountains and the desert the remnants of the crusader army have arrived with me to Damascus. We have invested the city, with the main force camped on the west side of the town. It is heavily garrisoned and I have no desire to uselessly kill any more of my men than I have to. I fear this will be a long siege to sit out. Scouts have reported sightings of a larger band of rabble that keeps roaming the countryside. Nothing conclusive yet, however. Might be just ordinary bandits.

August, 1152. It seems the band of rabble has some semblance of a military leadership. Whoever is in charge has more courage than sense, though. They didn't bother to coordinate much with the city garrison and are now chasing my outlying pickets straight towards our main camp. Scouts report that the garrison has also sallied, emboldened by the "successful" attack of the relieving force. There's a nice ridge a few miles out and I plan to give them battle there, before the two forces have time to merge.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The scouts most helpfully led our force to the best defensive ground they could find. Too bad that they didn't notice the absolutely perfect hill just to the south. The hill's southern and eastern faces are totally impassable, even by men without arms and armor, and grade gradually lessens to the north. I shall move my archers to the top of the hill with the spearmen and heavy infantry guarding the northern approach. It is just about perfect place to battle horse archers!

I have to leave the details to my subordinates though, the relieving force is almost here and I want to catch it on level ground with my cavalry. Cavalry forward!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The cavalry attack went surprisingly well, despite the first botched charge by the lancers. The Seljuk spearmen got more kills in that charge than during the rest of the skirmish. However their brave but foolish captain also bought it there and that made the rest much easier. Otherwise it was almost a textbook attack. Vardariotai and byzantine cavalry hooked to their rear while the lancers and my bodyguard charged their flanks. Looking at the hill the infantry seems to be at place.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

There's still time for a few small movements and a quick word at the diary while before the enemy is in range. The cavalry will form a north-south line with large intervals to allow uninhibited movement and clear fields of fire as well as opportunities to charge. I am confident that we will have victory in this battle!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The actual battle has been almost an anti-climax. Our archers gutted their horse archers from afar and had plenty of time to concentrate on their foot that was desperately trying to charge up the slope... straight into the maw of our Saracen mercenaries. Poor bastards routed almost instantly.

I had to pull in the cavalry line somewhat to draw the enemy horse into our archers' field of fire. Lancers had some casualties mopping up the rest behind the enemy line.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Now it's evening and the men are sitting by their camp fires, recounting their individual skirmishes, thrust by thrust and parry by parry. The stench from the battlefield is not too bad yet, though I don't want to be near - or downwind - tomorrow when sun rises again. The captains have finished counting their men and we didn't even lose 50 men! Over half of the lost were from the lancers, some from their initial unhappy charge and the rest from chasing the horse archers.

The enemies losses are beyond count, 700 dead and twice as many taken prisoner. I have sent the prisoners in one long line southward, with enough guards to make sure that they keep going that way. I have no stomach to summarily execute that poor lot, but neither do I wish to fight them again.

Now I will retire to my bed for tomorrow we will enter the city!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[Ramses II CP]

Medina, 1153.

Vissarionas ek Lesvou had been operating on the edges of the Empire for so long it was pure instinct on his part to avoid the attention of imperial agents. He had been doing it ever since departing Dongola, though travelling through Gaza a few had caught up and forced him to deal with certain aspects of his business in the world at large. Sending Stephen to the capital to carry on the necessary work of discrediting the false Emperor was the worst of it. Still, on the whole his journey to Medina had been perfectly uncomplicated, leaving his throughts free to expand on his developing philosophical convictions.

It seemed so obvious, here in the spare environs of the desert, that life must be driven not by what men taught, but by what worked. If men prospered by treachery and bloodshed then these must be the things that God found pleasant, as they were obviously the things he rewarded. God could not be defined by the fickle whims of alms seeking priests or manipulative administrators in his name, no more than he could by archaic books and treatise from times past. Who knew, perhaps God did operate according to those dictates in that distant time before, but what was certain was what could be seen successful today. Pouring out the blood of your enemies brought advancement, profit, power, and prestige... but such in and of themselves carried little interest for Vissa. These things were merely the tools by which one discovered God's will so that it could be worked in the world for his glory.

Vissa was pleased to see Medina invested ahead of him... and yet he was far happier to know that a foe still lurked out there to be faced.

The Fatamids, Vissa's sworn foe, were hiding on the heights south of the city, sheltering behind a confused mass of local rebels who feared Methodios and the Egyptians equally. This served Vissa's purpose perfectly, as it left the high ground west of Medina open to his advance and pinned the rebels to prevent their retreat. They were caught in a pocket, and if their leaders had been anything but fools they'd have joined the Fatamids or just thrown down their weapons and fled.

Yet fools they were, and there they stood blocking the southern road to Mecca. Perhaps they thought they were guarding their holy city?

As his army approached what would be their battleground the skies over Medina darkened. Vissa's troops picked up their pace, sensing their master's desire to find battle before a storm forced them to seek shelter. Vissa himself grinned a satisfied smile as the cloud cover grew ever thicker and the air itself hung dark and close. As they crested the final hills the black, dense clouds overhead were penetrated in only a few bare places by dim, orange light, almost like the flickering of a fire in the sky. Distantly blue skies could be seen far across the open desert, but over Medina the sky boiled with impenetrable blackness. Rebel flags were clearly visible from the top of the hill.



With the enemy now in sight Vissa's excitement heightened, 'Caught them moving across the valley in the open.' he thought. Aloud now he bellowed,

"Infantry at a run now! I want that rideline held above them and arrows falling down on them immediately! Guardsmen prepare your lances, let's see if these rebels have any discipline at all!"

Dimly Vissa was aware of bugles from the east as Methodios' garrison salled forth to his aid, but most of his concentration was on the enemy. They had minimal scouts out, perhaps finding few men willing to do the job, and were just now turning their formation to meet Vissa's advance. There were many archers among the enemy, more than among the Byzantine force. With a simple hand gesture Vissa indicated to his bodyguard the target, and they dropped their faceguards and lances nearly as one.



Muttering aloud to himself amidst the thundering horses Vissa mindlessly said, "I have seen the token of your favor Lord and I offer these lives up to you that you might turn your wrath from me and let me make an end of our enemies."

The rebel archers were just turning to flee when the charge struck them. Vissa and his guardsmen rode through the formation butchering the lightly armored men. The rest of the enemy archers, in a panic, fired blindly into the melee killing many of their fellows but knocking more than one Byzantine guard from his mount. As the spearmen began to wade in Vissa ordered his men out, "Back and form up! We'll wheel around and hit them again!"

A company of rebel cavalry tried to cut off Vissa's retreat, but their riders were too fearful to engage and merely showered javelins into the general's troops. A few more men fell, but the rest executed a perfect wheel and charged back in again. The second charge was almost too successful, annihilating the enemy archers and smashing deep into the spearmen who were struggling to guard them. Laughing now Vissa screamed, "Through them and out behind the formation! Carve a path!"

Shocked rebel spearmen, having never properly set to take a charge, now scattered and fled. Behind the rebel army Vissa and the remaining half of his bodyguard rode through a second company of enemy archers who had retreated to presumed safety. This threw panic into the rebel ranks, as did the approach of Methodios' archers from Medina. The two remaining companies of rebel archers and a half company of cavalry rode off towards Methodios' men. Again Vissa ordered his men to cut a way free from the mass of the rebels, and again they complied. Perfectly in time to prevent the rebels from getting off a single volley at Methodios' veterans a charge crashed in behind the two companies who had split off. Instantly they and the nearby cavalry broke off to flee, pursued by Vissa's guard.



The rebel infantry now bore the brunt of the arrows falling from the heights, and with Vissa chasing behind them they had no choice but to advance up the hill. Their discipline was somewhat better on the attack than it had been on the defense, and the rhythmic thumping of their boots echoed across the valley. Vissa's archers retired in good order to the rear while his swordsmen prepared to sweep the left flank after the enemy line engaged. Vissa himself was too caught up in the pursuit to notice the infantry battle developing to his rear.



Though Methodios himself remained clear of the battle due to his wounds his men were well trained, and the forwardmost company of his cavalry, the militiamen, knew precisely what to do. Mere moments after the rebel spearmen engaged Vissa's formation they struck the rear of the largest, best armed company in the rebel army, shattering the whole formation's morale.



The rebels threw down their weapons and fled. Far across the field Vissa and his men had to draw their pursuit up short when they sighted Fatamid banners on the high ridge ahead of them. Returning to his main body of troops Vissa ordered no further pursuit of the fleeing rebels, and reassembled his army to advance against the Fatamids. A messenger was sent to Medina with thanks and the head of the best armored cavalryman who could be found on the field, on the assumption that he was the rebel captain.



In the aftermath of battle under the black skies of Medina not even the knowledge that Methodios had once more managed to take some glory from Vissa's victory could shroud his happiness. Speaking to his men Vissa urged them on hastily, saying,

"God has shown us his blessing men! Surely we can catch the Fatamid dogs and cleanse this region of the Empire! Press on!"

Events proved not so simple, as the cavalry heavy Fatamid force retreated to a prepared position on a back ridge just as the brewing storm began to show it's force. Weary, battered, but still bouyant Vissarionas ek Lesvou was seriously contemplating marching across a deep valley even under fire when the rains began. Examining his men he found only the swordsmen of Dongola to still have the light of battle lust in their eyes, and so he ordered a camp prepared. The Fatamids could wait. The rats were running out of holes to run to; soon there would be only ashes left of their sad little Empire.

(OOC: I presume the skies are a bug, but I don't know for sure and it made a neat dovetail into V's storyline. Methodios' men didn't take any casualties but both companies of his archers got another chevron. )

[Cecil XIX]

Okay, this is the real placeholder.

[Ituralde]

Defense of Yerevan, 1153:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Let me tell you the story of the defense of Yerevan. It was the evening before a night of slaughter and death, when Pavlos Chrysovergos rose from his chambers. He had shaved his beard as was his custom before battles and his divinations had led to this night being the right time to attack his enemies.

The Seljuks had come in force to reclaim their possession of Yerevan. They had taken over a thousand men with them and many of them were their feared Horse Archers. Quick on the run and ready to rain death on anyone who dared come near them.

It was the third hour of the night when the brave defenders of Yerevan marched forth. The brave men of Yerevan organized into Militias made up the center, followed by Peasant Archers. On the left stood the strong and mighty Dismounted Lancers and Pavlos and his cavalry of close to a hundrer came over the right.

The Seljuks abandoned their siege equipment quickly and withdrew into the hills. Not their Horse Archers though who harrassed our brave men the minute they left the protection of the City Walls. Many a man fell to the festering arrows of the heathen Sultanate!

Pavlos cavalry proved to be too few in number to engage the Seljuks in battle. So while one half of their mounted foes perished the other rained death upon them a hundred times. So it was late in the night when the enemy lines finally engaged. Beaten by an onslaught of arrows they followed their brave leader Pavlos into battle. Together with the Lancers he broke the left flank and soon the center.

The Seljuks were not ready to give up and encouraged by the arrows of their Horse Archers they came at our brave defenders again and again until hardly a man was left to defend our city of Yerevan. Finally the tide was turned and our attackers fled as through a miracle. But many a man lost his life that night to defend us from the heathen scum.

Pavlos Chrysovergos was seen kneeling on the battlefied crying to the heavens how they could have failed him such. Did he not observe all the signs proper and lead his man to righteous battle? All we can say is that Yerevan is save for now.

[Smowz]

Diary of Nevoulas ek Philadelphius 1156 - 1158

1156 - the rendezvous point outside Kythira - an island south of the Greek mainland.

Prince Isaakios is as happy as can be and is agreeable on attacking the large island if Crete to the south of us. We discussed little on matters of state, in truth our meeting was tense and almost hostile.

I have been asked to show patience by the Emperor on the matter, it seems more important to blood the young prince at battle rather than for me to talk politics and loyalty. I am uncomfortable with either, I am hardly a seasoned veteren but still I have an army in my possession and I am after all a mere servant of the empire.

My brother has been going over details of the upcoming invasion of Crete, I can tell his heart is not in it. In truth neither is mine there is something greater at work here - the empire is being torn apart from the inside and here we are with one of the better armies and navies of the empire invading some off shore island.

I am also bugged by my original promise to the men, to fight the moors, they are pious men they truly believed they were going off on a crusade rather than fighting fellow christians. They would follow me to the worlds end I am sure, but they would be more effective with some zeal behind them.

We shall approach the island in the next month and make a landing and immediately head towards the main settlement of Heraklion. Our scouts tell us, there is only a small force in the city, it is however one Venice's strongest commanders in charge it shall not be easy to outmaneuver such a foe but we have plenty of men to do battle with them.

1157 - The Fleet outside Heraklion

Despair. Curses to Salvo and his cunning.

The men are down, I am too. Our landing on Crete was met with suspiciously no problems at all. However the landscape was difficult to scout and we soon discovered that the cunning Venetian commander Cristiano Salvo has a well supplied hidden force awaiting in ambush near the city.

Tactically retreat was the correct thing to do, however many men have lost morale following such an order. Indeed when we returned to the ship, some were ashamed to look the young prince Isaakios in the eye.

There is a big question of what to do now. The assault of Heraklion is now a good deal more complicated than it appeared at first to be. The longer we stay here the more we learn of the Venetian legend of this Salvo that is leading them. He will prove a difficult commander to rid of. The topology of possible fields of battle are also going to be difficult to fight on, ugly hills and sporadic overgrown forests are adding to the difficulties.

The troops are weary, we have not been able to establish a camp on the ground. Even if we did, there is little foraging available for us. We are best off at sea, but the sea can be an unforgiving place with many superstitions that have been given birth here.

The portents are hazy, I am confident that we can win the day here but the cost, the price of victory may be high indeed. The is my folly to bear - i have argued the case with Isaakios and my generals we shall ride out soon with everything we have and play out this Salvo's bluff.

The time is now.

1158 - approaching the battle

Every man has emptied the boats. Alas we were better prepared months ago, the time has sapped at the mens strength. They follow me as they have before, they should be higher, more zealous than this and despite our best efforts I estimate they are only going to be fighting at 75% of their capabilities.

It is my hope, my gamble that a victory here will raise their spirits and have them believing in themselves once more.

My scouts have following information on the battle:



The enemies armies will only be split for a short while, the topography will make it impossible to split them. Our greatest obstacle will be Salvo and his bodyguard themselves. I have heard the legends, it has been hard to separate them from facts but I believe that there must be something behind these stories.

I plan to draw the general out and then attack him hard with both mine and the Prince Isaakios' bodygaurd. I will personally lead the charge - no risk no glory. Before this we shall wither away at the numerous spearmen regiments with the trebizond and horse archers. With any luck this will pick the mens spirits up.



My brother caught my eye as I solemnly passed my will to my scribes. He looked at me so sternly, he knows my plan and has objected to it in the strongest degree. He reminded me of my responsibilities in the senate, put simply he said that I cannot die. I laughed at this and told him that I was no more immortal then any man. I regret my laughs now, I know what my brother meant, he does not wish me to die and neither would many senators at home. Many have put their trust in me, but I cannot stand up in the senate with pride if I hide away from battles at the rear.


1158 - Postmortum

I, Makadonios ek Philadelphius am concluding my brothers diary here for future Romans to see.

I am travelling now to our family home with my brothers dead body. It is my sad duty to deliver a Eulogy at his funeral.

I am sorry for my short sentance structure - I do not have my brothers ability with the pen.

The fight went as Nevo predicted, with the archers gloriously cutting the opponents to shreds. However many of the men were hesitant when it came to their turn to fight. Nevo charged out to the front again and again killing the first armys leading spearman.



We moved onto Salvo himself. Or most of the bodyguard did, I was stuck fighting the damned spearmen. They proved resilient these Venetians.

Nevo shouted loudly but many of the ground troops were slow to respond they help up as Christiano Salvo gleaming armour came into view. He was I admit a giant of a man.

He slayed my brother by piercing a spear into his side, Nevo clasped the spear firmly into him snapping it clean in two as he fell. I managed to reach Salvo just as he thrust a second sword through Nevos heart. I was too late to save him - I managed at least to avenge my brother.

The cursed battle continued to rage and now it was decisively in our favour. We would go onto claim a heroic victory. My brother the true hero of the hour however lay stone dead on the floor.

[woad&fangs]

*placeholder* *Relief of Tbilisi 1158* *placeholder*

[Andres]

Placeholder for the battle near Bologna - 1171

[Northnovas]

Siege of Zagreb

The camp of the Corinth Army was quiet another day of the siege. Aleksios slept soundly……

However, I feel compelled to the Kaiser’s calling and Duke Leopold is looking for Austrian nobles to fight in the East. I have learned many things in my travels and educated in some fine institutions but it is learning and not doing. I can ride a horse well but can I lead men into battle? I have studied the strategies and tactics of our military men but have not fought a battle. How can I prove to the Duke that he has a worthy son and provider for his only daughter if I cannot fight in battle? He is the greatest General in the Reich! I do not want to show that he has a son who is a good administrator managing crops and taxes. I have to be able to demonstrate that I am capable to taking arms and fighting for Reich. You have learned me a great deal in life skills and the art of war was not to your liking. I will now take on a new mentor and learn what I can to protect everything that you have believed and worked in your life. The Duke's reputation precedes him but I am not concerned………

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/showpost.php?p=1552475&postcount=74

“General awake, awake the enemy is approaching!” Aleksios woke from a deep sleep.
“What?” Aleksios responded as he sat up already dressing himself.
The General’s aide began to stammer on. “My lord, a relieve force as arrived, the men in Zagreb have sallied and the Venetian Dodge has arrived with the second army. Our scouts did not think he would dare to break the siege.”

“Interesting? I would like to speak to officer in charge of that scouting party and why we were surprised like this! You know Gregory I had the strangest dream. I was the Count of Zagreb and married into an Austrian family belonging to the Holy Roman Empire. Quite strange yet intriguing, what do you make of it?”

“Maybe it is a good omen that we will capture the city and it will be yours but if you do not hurry there will be no victory.” With that said the aide grabbed the General’s weaponry and prepared him to get to his horse.

The situation was not has grimed. The Venetian armies had not merged and were some distance the Byzantines had the forest for coverage.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Venetian Captain marched from the hillside and was marching for the main road. Aleksios had his troops covered in the wooded area off the road.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

When the Venetians converged to the road a volley of arrows were leashed upon the approaching enemy troops. Confusion and panic ensued the enemy fell back and the Byzantines remained hidden in the forest.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Dodge was approaching cautiously the first Venetian Army regrouped but did not approach the forest edge. The Byzantines waited.



The signal was given and both Venetian armies moved into the woods supported by catapult and ballista crews. The Byzantines unleashed the counterattack catching the Dodge by surprise.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The first Venetian Army routed and the Dodge with the second army began to falter. The Dodge was quickly surrounded and cut down from his horse.
The Venetians fled the battle field.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The road was open to Zagreb and The Army of Corinth marched into the city. It was a long siege and the treasury had to be replenished. The town was sacked.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Aleksios was satisfied with the results and quickly sent a messenger to the spread the word that a victory had been achieved. Can Venice be next?

[_Tristan_]

The conquest of Jerusalem, 1185

Placeholder

[Ibn-Khaldun]

Battle north of Theopolis, 1188

Theo Petzeas vs Captain Hayati (Turkish Sultanate)



Prisoners were executed to pay back for all the lives lost in Damascus.

[Ibn-Khaldun]

Battle south-east of Theopolis, 1190

Theo Petzeas vs Captain Izzeddin (Turkish Sultanate)

Result:


Since Turkish Sultan rejected to pay the ransom all prisoners were executed.

[Ibn-Khaldun]

Battle near Edessa, 1195

Theo Ptezeas vs Sultan Sinan (The Turkish Sultanate)

Battle was fought near some Christian settlements. This gave Theo's men a huge morale bonus and this also meant that he didn't have to worry about food and water supplies.

Battle started with Skythikons and Byzantine Cavalry sending clouds of arrows towards Turkomans and Turkish Horse Archers.While Turkish infantry continued their march towards Theo's fragile infantry line Turkish cavalry had already been defeated and all of Theo's horse archers started to send volleys after volleys of arrows into the backs of Turkish infantry. Sultan Sinan tried to stop them, by attacking Skythikons, he soon found himself and most of his bodyguards surrounded by Theo's Skythikons. He soon fell after that.

When news of their Sultans death reached to Turkish infantry they first tried to retreat in order but finding themselves between Byzantine cavalry and infantry they soon broke. After that this battle was a massacre.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[TheFlax]

1197: Siege of Tortosa

Emperor Ioannis versus Captain Cihangirhan



All prisoners were executed so they shall not harm another Roman.

[mini]

Battle of Damascus - 1178




It was a quiet morning. Iosef Ek Artas had risen early as usual, doing his morning exercises. He had made a habit of showing himself regularly to his troops, always looking busy, sharing their distresses. They had been besieging Damascus for what seemed forever now. Although he had done his best, the prolongued absence of the Basileus, coupled to the news of civil strife throughout the empire, had seriosly battered the morale of the army. Looking at the walls of the city, Iosef perceived no unusual activity. Just another quiet morning of a quiet siege in a not so quiet part of the world.

"Mylord, a rider..."
Iosef swung his head towards the direction one of his bodyguards was watching.
A rider indeed. And by the way he's hammering his horse, in a huge haste.
Man and horse kept on galloping, it almost seemed as if he were to ride through Iosef, but at the last minute he reined his horse, staggering and creatign a huge dust cloud.
Unpertubed, Iosef studied the man, who looked very weary and as if he tried to take a huge part of the desert with him.
"My Lord" said the unknown rider trying to catch his breath. Iosef nodded.
"My Lord, a relieve army is marching here at the double from the east. They must have heard the Basileus has splitted from the army, or.." he blottered, only being interrupted by Iosef.

"Calm down. How much, and how long?" Iosef demand, already overlooking his camp.
"A force almost as big as our own, i reckon. At their speed, they'll be here in 2 hours."

Iosef left the mand standing, merely turning around barking orders left and right.
He lifted the siege in such a hurry, recollecting a few places of the country side he had seen while riding around in the days the Basileus himself ran the army. he knew a few spots where he could withstand superiour numbers. For although this releave army was only his own size, he bore no illusions the commander from the garrisson in Damascus would idly abide while a battle occured in front of his gates.

It was nigh 1 hour later that Iosef found himself on a sandy hill, about 5 to 10 miles from Damascus.
He had disposed his men as good as he could given the terrain. Spears in the center, infantry on the sides and archers in the back.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

From afar the dust clouds of the enemy were visible, although it took them another hour to close on Iosef's army. Without pauze, they charged into the Byzantine center

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

It wasn't before long that the enemy tried to envelop Iosefs right flank. The Byzantine commander never faded and shielded the flank.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The enemy general clearly wasn't anyone creative, as the tried the same on the left flank.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

For about 2 hours the battled raged back and forth, then the Damascus garrison entered the frey

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

As the left flank took the brunk of the reinforcements charge, it was also the first to break.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Although the enemy was repelled 3 or 4 charges, they were never broken enough to retreat the field entirely. The Byzantine army held its own for a very long time, even stood on the brink of winning on several occasions, yet the enemy commander succeeded on rallyign his troops time after time.

In the end, they wore the Byzantine men down by sheer numbers. Iosef Ek Artas had to admit defeat, although he remained as the last man on the battlefield, his troops routing along with his bodyguards, but he stood tall, spat a few arabs in the face before he managed to escape.