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Strike for the South! - A Sweboz AAR
Index:
Chapter 1 (The Legacy of the Forebears; Unrest and Achievement)
Index:
Chapter 1 (The Legacy of the Forebears; Unrest and Achievement)
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
), I'l throw my bets in a Sweboz AAR from an already on-going campaign. Yes! A new Sweboz campaign! I will be watching this one.
By the title, I am guessing that you are going south and for Rome. This should be a good AAR.
By the title, I am guessing that you are going south and for Rome. This should be a good AAR.
Strike for the South!
Chapter 1 – The Legacy of the Forebears
Chapter 1 – The Legacy of the Forebears
Originally Posted by :
“It has been a long time” – Said the elderly man – “But I shall proceed and tell a story for you, as far as I can remember.”
“Back when I was a child, we did not have this” – He pointed towards the hill fort which could be seen from the house and the fireplace they were gathering. It was a full moon night, so the buildings around the hill, the stronghold, and the manor, were all visible towards distant beholders, including the protagonists of the present story.
“Back when I was a child, we were fewer. My father, as my great-grand-father and the men before him, wandered around the forests of this place. Only occasionally did they settle down, for the winter, or to farm the lands, which were then quickly abandoned. We considered it a manly lifestyle, and were wary of doing what even our closer kin, which lived a few miles from the hill or two days march from us, did.
Occasionally, we robbed passers and plundered places. The looting was scarce, since there is not much to take from this place anyway, and it has been always so that we had to compliment our raiding with honest work, on the farm, or on the hunt. My father taught me to use his bow, which I still keep even after all these moons. He was also a stern man, aware of the hardships of making our living.
It was not always such, I will tell you. Back in my grandfather’s day, they still tell, the tribes gathered together. We, that usually never talk between ourselves for generations, gathered our arms and our possessions, and crossed the Great River to the West. It was a call to arms for every man of honour; the Keltoi, the men who dwell beyond the river, had raided and tarnished the sanctity of our holy lake, and no German who respects the Gods would ever forgive, or forget this. So we marched to confront them, and settle the matters, aware of the Gods blessing and approval.
My grandfather told me in detail, when I was a toddler. Back then he was already a grown man, one of the trusted ones, and he was placed among the hard and experienced. The young and rash, eager to prove themselves, were placed ahead of his unit. Among them the bravest, and arguably the most noticeable, were the Chatti; they were like fire, young, well built, screaming taller than the rest. They did not, and to this day do not fear death, even though they have been defeated many times. It is said that defeat makes them even braver, eager to take revenge when they have opportunity, and even now, wasn’t it for the great deal of autonomy and voice they hold, they would be rebelling still.
And so, in that battle the young from all tribes were placed to the front. Against them the Keltoi had placed their own young, their own militia, and their own part-time fighters. The difference was that our young men were alone and all for themselves, while their young and their lowly had champions mingled among them. The champions were proven and fearsome warriors, and merciless killers with the best blades of the world, and with armor, so much armor that it would be difficult for our young to even scratch them. My grandfather, who had an eye for these things, immediately noticed, and realized how much of a tough task was ahead for them.
And so the battle begun” – He paused, and made a grim face – “Our young threw themselves like thunder, like a pack of wolves in an utter state of bloodlust and detachment from the world and life. The screams, the warcries, the cling of weapons all made a deafening noise as both sides charged savagely, as is the custom of men to do.”
“Our young were beaten” – The elderly face twisted and saddened in memory – “They were beaten, but they did not run. Maybe the others ran, but the Chatti, the Marcommani, the Swebi, they all stood their ground like men, no matter young they were, and screamed and fought to death. And among the better and older warriors with my grandfather, many sighed, for their sons had been among the dead, but of course, it was better than to count them among those who ran, and whose name can never be mentioned anymore, out of shame.”
“And so did the rest of the German warriors prepare for the fight. They were outnumbered and outclassed, for the Keltoi still had the bare remnants of their youth, which had been badly mauled by ours, but stood still. And their champions, and their better warriors, some of them armored, but all carrying big and intimidating blades. Our warriors prepared a shield wall, to absorb the upcoming charge of the Keltoi, who were highly confident of their victory and now made their final, overwhelming charge against us.”
A long hiatus set on where the old man glanced the stars, trying to get his own old mind on remembering the long past events.
“And then… We won”
“How” – A voice uttered – “Weren’t we badly outnumbered?”
“Yes” – The old man answered – “But the Gods were on our side. Never had we been so sure of it, my grandfather told me, when the Keltoi commander, who was racing ahead of his men, fell from his chariot and was trampled to death by his own people, who were charging and being relentlessly pushed by the warriors behind, so much that they could not stop it.”
“A brief battle ensured, one where my grandfather fought resolutely, for he was in the first line. It was some hours before the whole Keltoi army had realized what happened, but as they realized it, a cold shiver went through the spine of every man. They were afraid, and rightfully afraid, for not only had their leader died, he died in a humiliating way, like a sack of dung, instead of as a warrior shedding his blood. The GODS had made him die this way, and the Keltoi were aware of it, and fearing the rightful divine justice, they wavered, and then ran, and ran, and ran. Gradually, entire parts of their army became discouraged at the cowardice of their fellows, and ran themselves too, so much that our men stood firm, and none ever dared to attack us. The battle was won.”
Reaching for a cup of ale, the old man set his concluding thoughts:
“Our riders pursued them, and so did everyone of us. When we counted the dead by their heads, and took their possessions with us, we realized the extent of our victory. For every single warrior of us who was killed that day, five Keltoi died in battle, or in the run.
And so, praising the Gods for that victory, the army plundered that part of Gaul for a week. No one was spared, for the Gods were angered, WE were angered, and we would show them every bit of our discontent until they bowed for mercy, of which we showed none. Their women were shared each one of them by hundreds of men, before being tortured to death. Their men were killed in the spot, while their children were used as toys for our spears and blades; even my grandfather, who was a good man, took part in the cruelties of those days, for he felt it as nothing more than a duty to the Gods to exact his revenge.”
“And thus, with their hands full of loot and their anger satiated, they came back home. The Gods had been respected, and avenged.”
“It has been a long time” – Said the elderly man – “But I shall proceed and tell a story for you, as far as I can remember.”
“Back when I was a child, we did not have this” – He pointed towards the hill fort which could be seen from the house and the fireplace they were gathering. It was a full moon night, so the buildings around the hill, the stronghold, and the manor, were all visible towards distant beholders, including the protagonists of the present story.
“Back when I was a child, we were fewer. My father, as my great-grand-father and the men before him, wandered around the forests of this place. Only occasionally did they settle down, for the winter, or to farm the lands, which were then quickly abandoned. We considered it a manly lifestyle, and were wary of doing what even our closer kin, which lived a few miles from the hill or two days march from us, did.
Occasionally, we robbed passers and plundered places. The looting was scarce, since there is not much to take from this place anyway, and it has been always so that we had to compliment our raiding with honest work, on the farm, or on the hunt. My father taught me to use his bow, which I still keep even after all these moons. He was also a stern man, aware of the hardships of making our living.
It was not always such, I will tell you. Back in my grandfather’s day, they still tell, the tribes gathered together. We, that usually never talk between ourselves for generations, gathered our arms and our possessions, and crossed the Great River to the West. It was a call to arms for every man of honour; the Keltoi, the men who dwell beyond the river, had raided and tarnished the sanctity of our holy lake, and no German who respects the Gods would ever forgive, or forget this. So we marched to confront them, and settle the matters, aware of the Gods blessing and approval.
My grandfather told me in detail, when I was a toddler. Back then he was already a grown man, one of the trusted ones, and he was placed among the hard and experienced. The young and rash, eager to prove themselves, were placed ahead of his unit. Among them the bravest, and arguably the most noticeable, were the Chatti; they were like fire, young, well built, screaming taller than the rest. They did not, and to this day do not fear death, even though they have been defeated many times. It is said that defeat makes them even braver, eager to take revenge when they have opportunity, and even now, wasn’t it for the great deal of autonomy and voice they hold, they would be rebelling still.
And so, in that battle the young from all tribes were placed to the front. Against them the Keltoi had placed their own young, their own militia, and their own part-time fighters. The difference was that our young men were alone and all for themselves, while their young and their lowly had champions mingled among them. The champions were proven and fearsome warriors, and merciless killers with the best blades of the world, and with armor, so much armor that it would be difficult for our young to even scratch them. My grandfather, who had an eye for these things, immediately noticed, and realized how much of a tough task was ahead for them.
And so the battle begun” – He paused, and made a grim face – “Our young threw themselves like thunder, like a pack of wolves in an utter state of bloodlust and detachment from the world and life. The screams, the warcries, the cling of weapons all made a deafening noise as both sides charged savagely, as is the custom of men to do.”
“Our young were beaten” – The elderly face twisted and saddened in memory – “They were beaten, but they did not run. Maybe the others ran, but the Chatti, the Marcommani, the Swebi, they all stood their ground like men, no matter young they were, and screamed and fought to death. And among the better and older warriors with my grandfather, many sighed, for their sons had been among the dead, but of course, it was better than to count them among those who ran, and whose name can never be mentioned anymore, out of shame.”
“And so did the rest of the German warriors prepare for the fight. They were outnumbered and outclassed, for the Keltoi still had the bare remnants of their youth, which had been badly mauled by ours, but stood still. And their champions, and their better warriors, some of them armored, but all carrying big and intimidating blades. Our warriors prepared a shield wall, to absorb the upcoming charge of the Keltoi, who were highly confident of their victory and now made their final, overwhelming charge against us.”
A long hiatus set on where the old man glanced the stars, trying to get his own old mind on remembering the long past events.
“And then… We won”
“How” – A voice uttered – “Weren’t we badly outnumbered?”
“Yes” – The old man answered – “But the Gods were on our side. Never had we been so sure of it, my grandfather told me, when the Keltoi commander, who was racing ahead of his men, fell from his chariot and was trampled to death by his own people, who were charging and being relentlessly pushed by the warriors behind, so much that they could not stop it.”
“A brief battle ensured, one where my grandfather fought resolutely, for he was in the first line. It was some hours before the whole Keltoi army had realized what happened, but as they realized it, a cold shiver went through the spine of every man. They were afraid, and rightfully afraid, for not only had their leader died, he died in a humiliating way, like a sack of dung, instead of as a warrior shedding his blood. The GODS had made him die this way, and the Keltoi were aware of it, and fearing the rightful divine justice, they wavered, and then ran, and ran, and ran. Gradually, entire parts of their army became discouraged at the cowardice of their fellows, and ran themselves too, so much that our men stood firm, and none ever dared to attack us. The battle was won.”
Reaching for a cup of ale, the old man set his concluding thoughts:
“Our riders pursued them, and so did everyone of us. When we counted the dead by their heads, and took their possessions with us, we realized the extent of our victory. For every single warrior of us who was killed that day, five Keltoi died in battle, or in the run.
And so, praising the Gods for that victory, the army plundered that part of Gaul for a week. No one was spared, for the Gods were angered, WE were angered, and we would show them every bit of our discontent until they bowed for mercy, of which we showed none. Their women were shared each one of them by hundreds of men, before being tortured to death. Their men were killed in the spot, while their children were used as toys for our spears and blades; even my grandfather, who was a good man, took part in the cruelties of those days, for he felt it as nothing more than a duty to the Gods to exact his revenge.”
“And thus, with their hands full of loot and their anger satiated, they came back home. The Gods had been respected, and avenged.”
Interesting, uh, title. 
Will your AAR include any Texans?
Will your AAR include any Texans?
Originally Posted by Azathoth:
Interesting, uh, title.
Will your AAR include any Texans?
No pun intended Interesting, uh, title.
Will your AAR include any Texans?
.Strike for the South!
Unrest and Achievement (Continuation)
Heruwalfaz was a member of the Sweboz, better known by Civilized men as the Swebi. He was among those who listened to the elder’s stories of war, past glory and the contemplation of future challenges. He did so, for the confidence of the young on the elderly was supreme, and so their obedience – They accepted their grim fate more than once in battle, where they usually suffered the bulk of casualties, and like anywhere else, the young had to prove themselves to their tribe and their elders before they were picked as a valuable asset. None more than among the Sweboz, warriors by nature, who despised comfort and more so the comfort of their youth; laziness was punished by stern fathers, delinquency by the whole tribe. It was not uncommon to hear about young men disinherited and expelled from the Tribe, and indeed, until a youth could once again prove his value, he would never dream of coming back – in the harsh woods of Germania, the condescending attitude that the peoples of the South had towards their children would find no place.
More so in the warrior elite – The thegns, chiefs and petty tribal heads had always a dedicated and hand picked fellowship of men, who were promptly afforded the best armour and spears of the band, as well as fancy Celtic swords, a rarity among the spear folk of Germany. They were exempted from tributes and obligations, dedicating themselves to their training and betterment as warriors, and bar this, the betterment of the young entrants who would need to prove their skill.
Keltoi Warrior adapts a defensive stance – the art of fencing was much valued among Northern Elites
If a disturbance or a feud happened, and their lord was dishonoured, then his retinue would be called up to the wilderness. There, they would face the retinue of the opposing Lord in a massive duel to death, and to the victor were not only the spoils, but the settlement of the feud in his favour. Other ways to settle a matter or regain honour were individual duels or the trial by duel, whereas a man would prove his innocence by faring well in a fight; that is how the war was deeply ingrained among the Germans, and unlike to their neighbours the Keltoi, “war” was a duty of every man who could hold a spear. Many and many lives were lost in petty feuds, raids and battles, but there were always plenty of young men for the tomorrow, such is the nature of a primitive folk.
Elite Retainer
It was in this warlike mean that Heruwalfaz, the sixth child of Wulfaz, was born and grew. First as child, he used to poke at dolls with a stick. At the age of 16, he was initiated in the band as a “Jugundiz” of the local war chief Hrolf, who raided the territories of the Habukoz (Chauci) tribe for their supposed success in sea plunder at distant shores. Heruwulfaz was among the first line, and his charge had been successful, routing the opposite line; in recognition he was awarded a new spear and a helmet, which was stolen from the dead bodies of the Habukoz.
Heruwalfaz now had only goal in his mind – To kill, like a true fighting machine, to plunder, and to make his name. Many of his own kin and people were rather satisfied with proving their worth once or twice, then settling on a farm, but the hero within Heruwalfaz was bound to achieve more and more. He became a better warrior, and at the age of 20 entered the bodyguard of Ansuharjaz, one of the War Chiefs of the Swebozez, and a mighty figure. Son of the older and deceased king of Swebozez, he did not become King himself but dedicated his life entirely to military matters, forming a large retinue of followers around himself and being appointed as Supervisor of the Militia.
In that remote year of 272, the world of the Germanic tribes was in deep change and unrest. The Swebozez, the confederacy of thousands of petty tribes from around the current Elbe river, had taken to themselves by force the task of ruling and uniting all tribes of the Great Council after a petty rift between merchants turned into a widescale war between them and the Chatti, the Chauci and the tribes of the North, allied to them.
“I will conquer them all” – Ansuharjaz vowed publicly in the Thengoz of the Swebolandam, where representatives of the whole confederacy were gathered – “Gather your arms, my kin, my noble allies and my people, for the day where we shall rule supreme over the land has finally came!”
Answering to the call, young and elder, and anyone who could hold a weapon and was free went into the campaign.
One by one the tribes fell – The Cherusci were assailed at their own hill settlement, and after a bloody assault, forced to swear allegiance to the Confederacy. Ansuharjaz, now a renowned military chief but only at his twenties, personally entered with his troops at the Thengoz, and demanded the obedience of all the remaining Elders. It was said that half of them perished by assisted suicide, which they chose rather than to obey the new and pretentious young overlord. Promptly, Ansuharjaz assigned to his closer kin positions of importance within the Thengoz of the Cherusci, thereby ensuring a firm political rein over them and before departing to the land of the Chatti, which he massacred and subjugated with equal ruthlessness and self-assurance; half of the adult men among the Chatti were wounded or died in the fight, and this time the warlike pride of the same prevented any semblance of traditional occupation – The whole council, the women, and the children committed mass suicide, with only a small number left. But for them, their contribution and their struggle under the banner of a united people was not over yet.
One by one, the once mighty and fierce tribes collapsed before Ansuharjaz. The Swebi were nearing total victory, and Ansuharjaz himself was covered with honours and glory – His brothers began to fear him, and so did the Thengoz. Plots were laid, knives were sharpened, but the ultimate need for a charismatic leader to lead forward a war that was more and more taxing on the Confederacy was beyond many of the powerful, who preferred to wait for the outcomes before committing any decision. And it was thus that the power of Ansuharjaz and his decrees went without opposition; while he shone, nothing would ever tear him apart. But once he was not needed, then the Hand of Destiny would make it that anything would destroy him, including the war that he so much loved.
So, when he was at the gates of the tribe of Scanians (Skandwarjoz), a spear punctured his chest, piercing his mail and lodging itself deeply in him, instantly knocking him unconscious. Heruwalfaz, who always fought besides him, witnessed his death fully, and mourned for his failure to protect him. The campaign was over, vast patches of land were conquered, but the price in blood had been enourmous, and now the only man who was thought capable of leading the Confederation even better than his brothers or the elders was dead.
Unrest and Achievement (Continuation)
Heruwalfaz was a member of the Sweboz, better known by Civilized men as the Swebi. He was among those who listened to the elder’s stories of war, past glory and the contemplation of future challenges. He did so, for the confidence of the young on the elderly was supreme, and so their obedience – They accepted their grim fate more than once in battle, where they usually suffered the bulk of casualties, and like anywhere else, the young had to prove themselves to their tribe and their elders before they were picked as a valuable asset. None more than among the Sweboz, warriors by nature, who despised comfort and more so the comfort of their youth; laziness was punished by stern fathers, delinquency by the whole tribe. It was not uncommon to hear about young men disinherited and expelled from the Tribe, and indeed, until a youth could once again prove his value, he would never dream of coming back – in the harsh woods of Germania, the condescending attitude that the peoples of the South had towards their children would find no place.
More so in the warrior elite – The thegns, chiefs and petty tribal heads had always a dedicated and hand picked fellowship of men, who were promptly afforded the best armour and spears of the band, as well as fancy Celtic swords, a rarity among the spear folk of Germany. They were exempted from tributes and obligations, dedicating themselves to their training and betterment as warriors, and bar this, the betterment of the young entrants who would need to prove their skill.
Keltoi Warrior adapts a defensive stance – the art of fencing was much valued among Northern Elites
If a disturbance or a feud happened, and their lord was dishonoured, then his retinue would be called up to the wilderness. There, they would face the retinue of the opposing Lord in a massive duel to death, and to the victor were not only the spoils, but the settlement of the feud in his favour. Other ways to settle a matter or regain honour were individual duels or the trial by duel, whereas a man would prove his innocence by faring well in a fight; that is how the war was deeply ingrained among the Germans, and unlike to their neighbours the Keltoi, “war” was a duty of every man who could hold a spear. Many and many lives were lost in petty feuds, raids and battles, but there were always plenty of young men for the tomorrow, such is the nature of a primitive folk.
Elite Retainer
It was in this warlike mean that Heruwalfaz, the sixth child of Wulfaz, was born and grew. First as child, he used to poke at dolls with a stick. At the age of 16, he was initiated in the band as a “Jugundiz” of the local war chief Hrolf, who raided the territories of the Habukoz (Chauci) tribe for their supposed success in sea plunder at distant shores. Heruwulfaz was among the first line, and his charge had been successful, routing the opposite line; in recognition he was awarded a new spear and a helmet, which was stolen from the dead bodies of the Habukoz.
Heruwalfaz now had only goal in his mind – To kill, like a true fighting machine, to plunder, and to make his name. Many of his own kin and people were rather satisfied with proving their worth once or twice, then settling on a farm, but the hero within Heruwalfaz was bound to achieve more and more. He became a better warrior, and at the age of 20 entered the bodyguard of Ansuharjaz, one of the War Chiefs of the Swebozez, and a mighty figure. Son of the older and deceased king of Swebozez, he did not become King himself but dedicated his life entirely to military matters, forming a large retinue of followers around himself and being appointed as Supervisor of the Militia.
In that remote year of 272, the world of the Germanic tribes was in deep change and unrest. The Swebozez, the confederacy of thousands of petty tribes from around the current Elbe river, had taken to themselves by force the task of ruling and uniting all tribes of the Great Council after a petty rift between merchants turned into a widescale war between them and the Chatti, the Chauci and the tribes of the North, allied to them.
“I will conquer them all” – Ansuharjaz vowed publicly in the Thengoz of the Swebolandam, where representatives of the whole confederacy were gathered – “Gather your arms, my kin, my noble allies and my people, for the day where we shall rule supreme over the land has finally came!”
Answering to the call, young and elder, and anyone who could hold a weapon and was free went into the campaign.
One by one the tribes fell – The Cherusci were assailed at their own hill settlement, and after a bloody assault, forced to swear allegiance to the Confederacy. Ansuharjaz, now a renowned military chief but only at his twenties, personally entered with his troops at the Thengoz, and demanded the obedience of all the remaining Elders. It was said that half of them perished by assisted suicide, which they chose rather than to obey the new and pretentious young overlord. Promptly, Ansuharjaz assigned to his closer kin positions of importance within the Thengoz of the Cherusci, thereby ensuring a firm political rein over them and before departing to the land of the Chatti, which he massacred and subjugated with equal ruthlessness and self-assurance; half of the adult men among the Chatti were wounded or died in the fight, and this time the warlike pride of the same prevented any semblance of traditional occupation – The whole council, the women, and the children committed mass suicide, with only a small number left. But for them, their contribution and their struggle under the banner of a united people was not over yet.
One by one, the once mighty and fierce tribes collapsed before Ansuharjaz. The Swebi were nearing total victory, and Ansuharjaz himself was covered with honours and glory – His brothers began to fear him, and so did the Thengoz. Plots were laid, knives were sharpened, but the ultimate need for a charismatic leader to lead forward a war that was more and more taxing on the Confederacy was beyond many of the powerful, who preferred to wait for the outcomes before committing any decision. And it was thus that the power of Ansuharjaz and his decrees went without opposition; while he shone, nothing would ever tear him apart. But once he was not needed, then the Hand of Destiny would make it that anything would destroy him, including the war that he so much loved.
So, when he was at the gates of the tribe of Scanians (Skandwarjoz), a spear punctured his chest, piercing his mail and lodging itself deeply in him, instantly knocking him unconscious. Heruwalfaz, who always fought besides him, witnessed his death fully, and mourned for his failure to protect him. The campaign was over, vast patches of land were conquered, but the price in blood had been enourmous, and now the only man who was thought capable of leading the Confederation even better than his brothers or the elders was dead.
Interesting AAR.... I have one thing... I think th egerman name for the celts was 'wohloz' or something like that..... Keltoi is the greek word... It just looks a bit strange
Good start though
Good start though
Maion
@Reality,
If you hear well, that's what the Gallic voicemod calls them: "Keltoi".
If you hear well, that's what the Gallic voicemod calls them: "Keltoi".
Originally Posted by Christopher Burgoyne:
@Reality,
If you hear well, that's what the Gallic voicemod calls them: "Keltoi".
Yeah but the voicemod does not have a germanic part yet.... I´m not sure but I think they speak greek.... anyway it´s just a minor nitpick bit... and was not meant as a major criticism, I just ran across the Wolhoz (I think it was) name in a thread discussing germans and celts....@Reality,
If you hear well, that's what the Gallic voicemod calls them: "Keltoi".
Yeh! Another sweboz AAR!
Originally Posted by the man with no name:
Yeh! Another sweboz AAR!
Hey, no hammering? Cm'on man, don't make me do your work...Yeh! Another sweboz AAR!
Maion
I am working . Currently I'm busy but expect another update even today (GMT).
. Currently I'm busy but expect another update even today (GMT).Originally Posted by Maion Maroneios:
Hey, no hammering? Cm'on man, don't make me do your work...
Maion
Very funny. YOu'll get ur wishHey, no hammering? Cm'on man, don't make me do your work...
Maion
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