Legends of the Khan: BC Hotseat story thread

**Quirl** · 12-11-2009, 05:55

Staining the Red Sea

Admiral Tulun looked out across the waters. Ahead of him, orange sails walked across the ocean like a line of feathers. His eyes narrowed as he regarded them. He stood motionless atop the dank planks of his vessel—his arms barred across his chest and his gray eyes locked in an unwavering analysis.

"They outnumber us," one of his men, Erim, said behind him. There was no fear in his voice—only the tone of cold observation.

Tulun sniffed the night air in defiance of such a statement. "What does it matter?" He asked, turning a sharp gaze to his subordinate.

"It matters not."

Around the two men, the winds began to pick up. The sun was setting over the eastern horizon and gray clouds were beginning to tuck themselves over the ocean sky. Again, Tulun sniffed the evening air and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword; the other he tucked behind his back. He started down the steps towards Erim and began to pace around him. "Why does it matter not?"

"Because our masters have given us a task," Erim replied, his gaze forward—stiff and at attention.

"And the Hindus are in the way?"

"And the Hindus are in the way..."

Tulun nodded, his gray eyes not leaving the man. He whispered, "Yes... yes they are." Then he started off again to the edge of the dhow, putting a boot on the railing there. He crossed his arms once more and looked out towards the Rajput navy. "And what do we do to those who interfere with our masters' will?"

"We... subjugate them."

Tulun smiled, his grays eyes adopting the tone of the growing night air. "So what is your observation now, Erim?”

“They have not brought enough men to die today…”

“Good…” Tulun replied, his eyes still locked ahead—his smile formed into a wide grin. “That is your place. That is my place.”

“Do I give the signal, Admiral?”

“Yes,” Tulun replied and Erim immediately hurried off. Once more, Tulun smiled at the column of ships sailing down the horizon. Then he swiftly turned around and drew his sword, drawing the attention of the other men aboard. “Do you see these fools on their rafts in the horizon!” He called, his scimitar pointed in the direction of the Hindu fleet. “These pagans have spilled Muslim blood. Slaughter them! And feed them to Allah’s creatures of the sea!”

"Al-hamdulillāh! Al-hamduliarobyān Al-Khilāfa!"

There was a great shout from the men aboard and a bellowing call from the horn as Emir blew into it. The others ships then began to turn around and set their sails towards the Hindu fleet.

Tulun stood on the railings as he had before, his chin tucked into his chest and an eager smile painted on his lips. The other men around him hastily began to assemble their weapons and the ship's defenses. There were shouts of joy carried over the increasingly growing winds. There were calls of prayer—songs and hymns.

And tonight, Tulun knew, there would be blood in these seas. Tonight, he knew, was the night the slaves would join this war...

**phonicsmonkey** · 01-30-2010, 03:31

For over two years now the Caliphate armies had stalked the Mongols as they advanced through Ghazni and the lands of the Seljuks, but up to this point they had not engaged the invaders in battle, preferring instead to track their movements and lay fortifications in their path - the better to protect the damaged lands of the Caliph, still reeling from decades of conflict with the now-defeated Christians.

Now, with the eastern hordes in possession of Birjand and the route west into the Caliphate ahead of them, the Caliph in his wisdom had decided it was time to attack.

So it was that Yusuf Ibn-Jawzey, third and youngest son of the Crown Prince Mustarshid, found himself in command of a mixed force of spear, sword and mercenary horse, galloping across the bridge towards the city of Birjand.

He drew up his forces in a thick line, the spears instructed to dig the butts of their shafts into the hard earth in an attempt to counter the legendary charge of the Mongol lancers. Both flanks he declined in order to better protect his bedouin archers and catapults, which would rain fire and stones upon the Mongol foot.

Gazing out over the sandy plain which lay between the army of Islam and the walls of the city, Ibn-Jawzey thought he could detect movement behind the rough wooden pallisade - and sure enough, before he had even given the order for the catapults to begin their work on the walls, the gate flew open and out poured the Mongol horde.

Chaos descended as the Mongols, seemingly fearless of the Caliphate spears and led by the Khan's guardsmen, Kubeke at their head, charged headlong into the massed spears and began laying about them with their maces.

The highly-trained Abna Spearmen, pride of the Caliph's infantry, held their ground and soaked up the initial charge.

The catapults even managed to loose off a few incendiary missiles at the Mongols as they poured through the gate, crushing and burning them in their dozens.

On the flank of the formation the Arab Swordsmen and Faris Infantry held their ground and simply tried to take as many of their foes with them as they prayed to Allah to receive them into paradise.

But the Abna, the Arabs and the Faris were too few - elsewhere in the line the lightly armoured Nubian Spear were terrified at the savage onslaught of their Mongol opponents, and broke their line, panicking and attempting to flee.

And all the while the second Mongol army, led by Khanzada Chagatai, known to the fearful inhabitants of his conquered lands as 'the Tyrant', approached slowly from the north. It was clear that this was not to be a day of victory for the armies of Islam.

Utterly defeated, the remaining Caliphate troops were harried and cut down by their tormentors as they tried to flee.

Yusuf Ibn-Jawzey and the few remaining members of his guard unit cut their way through a weak point in the Mongol line and fled the scene to regroup with the survivors at their encampment to the south.

From the roof of the Birjand mosque, where the inhabitants of the city had huddled in terror to watch the battle, the scene was one of despair. They would not be freed from the Mongol yoke this day and would suffer further before deliverance came.

**phonicsmonkey** · 02-04-2010, 22:20

It was just after dawn when the goatherds returned to the city of Birjand from the banks of the fertile river to tell of a mighty force of Caliphate troops that had, in the first rays of daylight, assaulted the bridge from the heights of the surrounding hills.

The Mongol Kubeke and his army had been encamped there guarding the upstream ford and the path to Birjand itself, wary of a second attempt by the Caliph's forces to retake the city after the defeat of Yusuf Ibn-Jawzey and his army some weeks before.

Some hour or so later from his vantage point on the roof of the Grand Mosque, Qassim the Iman of Birjand had watched the relief force of Mongols led by Khanzada Chagatai (known as the Tyrant) ride out along the road to the bridge to support Kubeke's defenders.

Between morning and early afternoon prayer the river had begun to run red, clearly visible from the heights of the city where it snaked around the walls to the east.

Now Qassim strained his eyes, searching through the heat haze for any sign, hoping beyond hope to see the fluttering standards of great Suleyman, Caliph of Islam and commander of the Faithful.

There! Some movement through the dust storm...but what colour is the banner?

His heart sank. The Mongols were returning - the Caliph's men had been defeated once more.

But wait - what was this? The Mongols were...too few, far too few and they carried with them the bodies of their leaders, suspended on great litters across the backs of pairs of horses.

Both Kubeke and Chagatai had been slain, and by Qassim's reckoning only one fifth of those Mongols that had left the city were returning.

He began to hope once more.

**phonicsmonkey** · 02-09-2010, 11:17

In the summer of 1226 a Caliphate expeditionary force led by Muez Ibn Muhallab and Ahmed Abu-Suffyan burst through the Rajput fort line near the previously-Ghaznavid fortress of Saravan and defeated the two Solanki forces guarding the city.

No sooner had the dust settled on the battle field and the sun began to set behind the mountains when a party of scouts returned to report the approach of a further two large Rajput forces, led by Prithviraj Gangeya and Jaitugideva Chandrawat, hell-bent on revenge for the loss of the city.

There was not time to retreat to the safety of the fortress, some miles away, so the Caliph’s men worked through the night to erect a hasty set of fortifications and protect the tired army from direct attack by the Hindu cavalry and elephant formations.

Muez Ibn Muhallab had barely finished inspecting the palisade by the dawn light when the Rajputs arrived from the east in a cloud of dust.

The mounted cavalry mercenaries, well rested and their mounts watered and fed, took to the saddle and left the fort, their plan to harry the enemy, thin their numbers and tire them.

Sure enough, before long they had the benefit of the high ground and were able to rain deadly arrows on their pursuers. The Rajput cavalry began to rout, leaving the elephants to chase the horse-archers.

The elephant formations now scattered across the battlefield and their supporting cavalry slain or driven off, Ibn Muhallab now gave the order for the Afghan tribesmen to leave the fort with their bundles of javelins.

These men from the harsh mountains bordering India were skilled at fighting elephants. Whether in some ancestral age they had hunted them for food, or whether they had simply been forced to repel one too many incursions by Rajput armies it was impossible to tell; but they were deadly with their hurled javelins and the elephants were mown down like grass.

In one final attempt to seize the fort, the Rajput prince Gangeya charged the part-open gate, creating a bloody melee in the doorway.

Meanwhile reinforcements began to arrive in support of both sides, skirmishing in a disorganised rabble across the battlefield, the well-trained Caliphate forces quickly gaining the upper hand.

Muez Ibn Muhallab and his retinue rode out from the fort to chase down the remaining Hindu forces, and the day was won. Saravan would remain the property of the Caliph…for now at least.

**phonicsmonkey** · 02-16-2010, 02:03

Qassim, Imam of Birjand, was overjoyed to see the Seljuk riders at the crest of the hill, blue banners flying gaily in the morning wind.

The remnants of the Mongol occupying force had been defeated at the river by the forces of Tohkmen, known as the Handsome for his comely appearance, and at long last the city of Birjand was liberated. Truly what the Caliph's men had started, his allies the Seljuks had finished and once more the faithful of Birjand could pray and live in peace.

As the riders approached the city gates, the word rang around the streets that their liberation was at hand and the inhabitants rose up and overthrew the small garrison of Mongols who huddled fearfully in the city's keep, binding them and dragging them into the city square to be punished for their crimes.

Qassim gathered a group of faithful who had taken refuge in the mosque and went immediately to the dungeon of the keep where the bodies of Hisham and Al-Mahdi Ibn Muqla, the Caliph's men martyred at the second battle for the city, lay abandoned and ordered them prepared for the long journey back to Baghdad.

**phonicsmonkey** · 02-17-2010, 04:05

Caliph Suleyman sat on the balcony of the Great Mosque at Baghdad, looking out over the polished marble courtyard which was beginning to fill with the faithful as they gathered in anticipation of the martyrdom ceremony. His eyesight was faded but in the bright light of the morning he could clearly make out the hustle and bustle at the gate of the Mosque as the people lined up and jostled to gain entrance.

The bodies of the martyrs Hisham and Al-Mahdi Ibn Muqla, slain by the Mongols at the Second Battle of Birjand, had been borne the several hundred miles from the eastern provinces and were now, according to reports, making their way through the crowded streets of the capital for their appointment with the Caliph.

Vizier Tariq attended to the Caliph, who had aged prematurely since his coronation, faced as he had been with the constant threat of invasion, first from the men of the West and now from this deadly Eastern horde. His master had never been athletic, having spent his early years in study of the Qu'ran rather than in the armies of Islam - but his frailty for a man his age surprised Tariq and he was often filled with concern for his old friend.

Suleyman cleared his throat, and without turning from the scene, said to Tariq:

"So my old friend, it is the latest report from the Seljuk Sultan that the accursed plague of horse thieves has been all but halted in their incursion into Georgia."

Tariq nodded his assent. "Yes sir, it is our belief that they are now pent up at Kutaisi and will take several seasons to break through the defences there, giving the Seljuks ample time to whittle down their numbers."

The Caliph grunted, waving his right hand out over the unfolding scene in the courtyard below.

"And of course we would not be engaged in today's revelry had those glorious Turks not leap-frogged our valiant forces and regained Birjand..."

"Indeed sir, it is so."

"They are but minor accomplishments when set against the task ahead but with the flank attacks now thwarted the main threat remains concentrated on Merv, where the bulk of the Mongol forces are reportedly gathered. We must hope and pray that our combined forces can hold them there. What of the war on the treacherous Rajputs?"

"Ghazni is slowly being regained sir, as the generals and your noble son Mustarshid have reported. Zanji and Saravan have been retaken from the Hindoo armies and many Indians slain by the Crown Prince and his retainers. Indeed it is your grandson Muez Ibn Muhallab that has seen the lion's share of the fighting - a lion indeed to have slain so many elephants! At sea, Admiral Ayyub reports grand victories against the Indian fleets and has manouevered into their waters in an attempt to seize control of the Indian Sea."

The procession was now visible through the gate and the assembled crowds were parting to make way for the green-shrouded coffins bearing the bodies of the martyrs. As they passed through the great gates into the courtyard the Caliph turned in his seat to Tariq.

"In'shallah we will have victory in this struggle - and before I go to join the Prophet (salay'him a salaam) we may finally put this bloodshed behind us and begin an era of peace and prayer."

The Caliph stood up on the balcony and cast off his outer cape to reveal his emerald-green ceremonial robes. As he raised his hands above his head the crowd gave a mighty cheer.