Battle Reports and Stories thread

[Cecil XIX]

This thread is for the posting of battle reports and stories written by the players.

[Ramses II CP]

1080 Caen

Duke Gassou had not suspected the English would weaken the garrison at Anger and sally from the superior walls of Caen at the same time, but as fate would have it they had done just that. Fortunately word had arrived of the men from Anger in good time, and Perrin's men had withdrawn from the siegeworks in plenty of time to intercept the tiny force, which was marching double time headlong through the forest.



At the sound of his horn the English peasant archers started in terror, attempting to flee, while their spear carrying brothers drew up their formation too far away to provide any cover. It was a slaughter, the lightly armed archers never so much as touched their bows and their daggers made little impression on Duke Gassou's heavily armored guardsmen. As the peasants fled screaming into the woods Perrin's men pursued, and seeing them move off the English spearmen began to advance once more, directly into the pincer set by Perrin's infantry and archers.



Perrin's own archers pelted them from both sides as the enemy advanced towards the French spearmen. Within moments of the reduced English force making contact Duke Gassou's horn sounded once again, directly to their rear. The panic stricken fools fled just as their archer support had moments earlier.



Duke Gassou's spearmen and archers took a position at the crown of the hill, flanked by extensions of the forest running down either side. Eventually the English from Caen, oblivious to the fate of their support from Anger, marched up the hill with their archers once more in the lead. Duke Gassou winded his horn once more, smashing the peasant formation and riding out the other side with over half of them dead and the English noble, Harold, in close pursuit.



As the two companies of English spearmen advanced into the teeth of Perrin's bowmen the Duke's guardsmen led Harold's men in a merry circle through the edge of the nearby woods. Just as the reduced companies of enemy spearmen were engaging with Duke Gassou's lone formation of French spears that gay horn could be heard a fourth time. Mad with glee and desperate to swing the battle the French archers also rushed into the fray against the English spears, routing them completely before Harold and his enraged guardsmen smashed into Perrin's men from behind.



The battle was already over, only Harold didn't know it yet. Turning his men neatly to fight downhill with the support of the remaining French spears Duke Gassou demonstrated this fact with a short sword thrust directly through the English cur's helmet visor. A few more of his guardsmen had to be killed before the remainder would flee, leaving Perrin and the rest of his own guards to run down the last of the routing English infantry.







Caen itself then fell undefended and was sacked and added to the French Empire.

[Ramses II CP]

Bucharest, 1081.

Money was changing hands, a considerable sum of it for such a rough hewn tavern on the side of the road. The Prince, however, took no note at all of the gleaming, attentive eyes surrounding him and his deal. His total focus was on the mercenary captain before him, a compact man of indeterminate age with a thick beard and an oily odor rolling off of him.

"We're done then? Your men should muster quickly, Bucharest has no walls of consequence and we march this very day."

"Trusted your letter. Men camped in east woods, ready to march. Meet you there in two hours. Supplies to be purchased."

With a short nod the Prince rises and departs the tavern without so much as glancing around at the other patrons, who eye him coldly. At the door a pair of guards escort him out and mount up to ride. One of them speaks,

"You trust that creature? Doesn't look big enough to be a soldier."

Kalman laughs as he pulls himself onto his horse,

"Don't cross that man Menhar, he has the look of an old campaigner. You noticed he ate every bite of that vile tavern food while we cut our deal? A true soldier about to embark on campaign won't pass up a hot meal under a warm roof, it might be his last for a long time. We'll know for sure soon enough either way."

Returning to their camp the Hungarian nobles found the two armies already in communication and their own camp being struck in preparation to march. Shadows were still short on the ground when the pair of forces came together and began to march east along the rough road.

Two days later the crude collection of buildings that made up Bucharest lay before them. Some local scout or goat herd had spotted them and warned the town so their militia was drawn up in the square with some bowmen on horseback, a trumped up 'lord' or some such, obviously giving the orders. Stupid orders no doubt. His men were clustered up like sheep, ready for the slaughter.

Kalman turned to the mercenary leader,

"Captain Vaclav I will ride around to the north of the town to ensure they aren't trying to sally a surprise for us before we enter the streets. Send the archers forward to draw them out, we've better range and numbers. Don't commit the infantry until I return with word."

A short nod is his only reply before the small man turns to issue his orders.

North of the town there is nothing to be seen. Kalman's scouts report the countryside empty as the sounds of screaming begin in the square. A company of rebel infantry can be seen marching down the west road, towards Kalman's archers. With a roar Kalman turns his men back south at a run.

At the head of the western road out of town Kalman's archers are arrayed on a bank firing as fast as possible down the street into a company of slavic infantry. Behind them stands the mercenary captain with his own slav mercenaries watching the enemy advance into the hail of arrows. Rounding the corner of the building Kalman sounds his horn for a charge, and waves his sword for Vaclav to advance. The rebel infantry shatters and struggles to retreat as their captain rides forward to get a view of the situation.

Vaclav's cleverness is displayed once more as the Hungarian archers instantly switch targets, cutting down half the enemy's mounted men with their first volley. Screaming horses and fleeing infantry muddle the 'lord' of Bucharest's formation so badly that he cannot withdraw before Kalman is on him, sowing slaughter through the ranks of his lightly armored foes. There isn't time to pick out which of the horsemen is the leader so all of them are cut down alongside the fleeing slavic infantry before Kalman sounds his horn again for the men to fall back.

As he pulls out and rides away north Kalman shouts to Vaclav,

"There is still a company of town militia with spears and quite a number of archers in the square. I want our archers moved up again to thin the enemy ranks and drive them forward. We're in no hurry, let's preserve our men and avoid a frontal assault."

The coordinated advance of the Hungarian archers combined with the loss of their lord has obviously shaken the remaining enemy. They absorb several brutal volleys before decided to sally once more with their remaining infantry. The town militia advance cautiously and are met in the street by the charge of Vaclav's own men. Behind them the horn of Kalman can be heard to sound as he rides in from the north, driving a wedge into the enemy's lightly armored archers.

Perfectly in time with his charge the Hungarian archers cease fire and the remaining Hungarian infantry sounds their own advance. Minutes pass as the rebels are put to the sword. Few of them attempt to surrender. Fully half of Kalman's guardsmen are injured in one way or another, but most will recover. Only a few of the infantry were lost but none of them will recover, and perhaps a dozen archers have taken fatal wounds in the exchange of fire.

Overall it was a very successful engagement. As the men move to invest the town Vaclav says as much,

"Prince Kalman. Good battle. Peasants won't be problem. Men ready to continue soon. North or south? May be snow on the north road."

Worn out from the day's fighting but full of the glory of victory Kalman replies with a grin,

"Good battle Vaclav. We will march south. I want the short company of mercenaries to hold here and keep order for now. There is to be no prize taking or other viciousness, this town is full of my people they just needed to be reminded of it. Oh, and Vaclav, we need to see about getting you a horse. I need a man like you in my retinue, a man who can manage the battle while I and my lads are thick in the fighting."

Kalman leans down to offer his hand to the diminutive Vaclav, so far out of his saddle that his armor makes balancing difficult,

"Welcome to the service of the Empire of Hungary Vaclav. May your days with it be long and our victories many!"

A dark look briefly slides across the captain's face on Kalman's words, but he takes the Prince's hand and makes that short, sharp nod again,

"Thank you. Many battles, many victories m'lord. They're waiting, just have to go get them."

[Cecil XIX]

Sofia, 1087 A.D.

The camp was dirty, smelly and cramped. But for the past several seasons it had been Istvan’s home, as well as that of his soldiers. But all that was about to change.

In the distance, a sound like thunder could be heard. The guards at the camp recognized it as the sound of horses, and soon Istvan’s flag was seen in the distance. Soon he was back in his camp, and he quickly summoned his regimental commanders. They did not take long to arrive, having eagerly awaited his return.

“Men, the time is now. Both the Prince and the King have given us permission to lead the charge into Sofia tomorrow. The Prince has even agreed to come to our aid, but I don’t want the Kingdom to think that we’re a bunch of lazy good-for-nothings who let others do their work for them. We’re going in just like we planned, and the enemies inferior quality and leadership will make their numbers and fortifications count for nothing. Get your men ready, and get dismissed.”

The commanders saluted sharply, and without another word went about the necessary tasks. Istvan went to get his men ready to, a look of anticipation clearly evident on his face.

“This is the next, crucial step to increasing my power.”

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***
Meanwhile, in the Keep of Sofia…

A motley crowd had gathered, as the watchmen had reported that the Hungarians were making preparations for an assault. Morale was low, and many felt it was better to just surrender than to waste their lives defending against the Huns.

Then Tamas walked into the room.

Tamas was the local strongman, he had managed to claim Sofia’s keep as his own. He had slowly been extending his control over Bulgaria, and he wasn’t about to let any foreigners interfere with his quest to make himself a King.

“What’s all this muttering, you dogs? Have you all become mice, too afraid to stand against the enemy? Well that’s exactly what we’re going to do! We’ll crush the smaller force while the enemies still divided, and make use of the cavalry archers to harass the larger force until it’s too weak to breach our walls! Now I don’t want to hear anymore complaining, it’s the pit for the lot of you! Now scram, go get ready!”

At his command the men scattered.

“Tch, nothing’s gonna stop my rise to the top.”
***

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The next morning they assembled in front of the north gate, with two sets of ladders and a ram. The plan was simple: The militia with the ladders would provide cover for the rest of the army to storm in. It was expected that the superior quality of the Spear Milia and Istvan’s bodyguard would be able to well match their enemies, who were mostly peasants and petty horsemen.

Before Istvan was ready to give the order to advance, a messenger from the Prince arrived.

“Lord Istvan, the Prince has come from the east to your aid.”

“Excellent,” Istvan responded. “Tell his royal highness that we will take point.”

The messenger quickly moved to return, not wanting to waste time, and Istvan gave the order to advance.

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Far to the west, the Prince’s royal army had arrived and began moving with all haste.

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For his part, Istvan had ordered his laddermen to move at double speed and they were already far ahead of the ram.

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Though they came under withering fire, it was not long before the ladders reached the walls in good order.

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But that good news was more than overturned.

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While Istvan quickly ordered those spearmen to spread out and assemble near the rightward set of ladders, the leftward spearmen had just reached the top of the walls and brought battle to the peasant archers.

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The peasants were no match for the semi-professional militia, and their numbers quickly folded.

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Soon the spear militia to Istvan’s right had also risen onto the walls.

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Yet despite his orders, they refused to move. Eventually they engaged a regiment of simple farmers attacking from the western portion of the wall.

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The confusion was so bad that one of the units on the right side broke ranks and fled back downwards. This was the moment Tamas had been waiting for, and he quickly sallied with his horse archers to take the initiative.

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He tacked east, but the Prince was ready and was able to intercept some of the cavalry archers with his spearmen.

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Istvan noticed that the main gate was still open from the sally. “Forward, you knaves! If we break through we can occupy the center and their attention!”

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Istvan’s next words were not printable.

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But on the east side of the keep, the Prince’s spearmen had scaled the walls and begun combat with what soldiers they found.

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Meanwhile, Tamas was starting to get boxed in by the Prince’s reinforcement. “Blasted Huns! Men, get some distance and start shooting!”

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Seeing that he didn’t have the manpower to control the cavalry archers, Istvan ordered a retreat back to the Prince’s line and wait for the men on the walls to open the gates

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Indeed, the Prince’s spearmen soon set the meager enemy running.

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Meanwhile, Istvan spotted a prime opportunity when the enemy cavalry formed a cantabrian circle. He quickly ordered himself and the Prince into the fray, scattering the enemy.

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“Open the gate, you rats!” Tamas shouted in futility. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, or get further away from the gate, Tamas decided to sulk in a corner and wait for his chance. Fixing his gaze on Istvan, he pondered his situation.

“That’s the guy who started this. If it weren’t for him…”

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By now the Prince’s spearmen had split up, one unit going to open the gates and the other towards the center to pursue the fleeing rebels.

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Unfortunately, the spearmen sent towards the center routed after surprising strong resistance. They poured out of the north gate

“Ha ha!” shouted Tamas. He quickly used the opportunity to slip inside and regroup with the remnants of his army.

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Istvan saw his opportunity as well, and moved to seize the north gate while killing some rebels along the way.

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So it was that Istvan was the first to enter the city through the north gate.

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By now Tamas had reorganized the remainder of his forces, mostly archers with a smattering of spearmen.

“Fire, you fools! Let loose!” he commanded. “Drive them back!”

Despite the tone of his orders, Tamas was not optimistic about the outcome of the battle and discreetly began making his way to the south gate.

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By now Istvan had lost patience, and had become emboldened by the poor quality of the remaining enemy and the sight of the retreating captain.

“Forward, men! Broke through these peasants and slay the enemy leader!”

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Tamas noticed the pursuit, and decided that he had to face them.

“All right, you dogs! Come and see why they call me Tamas the Beast!”

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Istvan galloped past Tamas, causing the latter to whip his body to the right.

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Soon Istvan and Tamas were locked in mortal combat.

“Hungarian dog,” Tamas scowled. “Got out of my castle and back to the hole you crawled out of!”

Tamas lashed out with his sword, but Istvan dodged it easily.

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“I don’t think so,” Istvan smirked. “I rather like this place; I think I’ll take it. Once it’s linked to Ragusa, it will be part of an impregnable border with the Romans.”

Istvan raised his sword to strike.

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At that moment, Tamas could see it happening. Sofia, the center of his kingdom, made into a mere border province. It made him very angry.

“Damn you!” he shouted, and he quickly countered Istvan’s overhead strike by thrusting right into his torso. It was so startling that Istvan’s horse raised itself onto it’s hind legs in alarm.

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It then quickly crumbled as Tamas dispatched the horse itself for good measure.

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Prince Kalman, who had by know arrived at the center square, could only stare in horror at what had just happened.

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Shock than turned into shock as Tamas swiftly disposed of four of Istvan’s bodyguards, before galloping off and away from the center.

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Though Tamas likely would get away, the Prince swiftly decided that the fate of defeated captain was much less important than securing the square. Turning himself around to see how the fighting was going, he saw to his disgust that his remaining infantry had all routed after Tamas’s display of prowess.

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Sighing to himself, the Prince led his bodyguard to finish of the enemy. He personally dispatched the last man in the center.

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With the battle won, he regrouped his men. Staring at the newly won keep where he would be sleeping tonight, he silently weighed the benefits gained with the costs incurred.

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