Feats of Men ~ Interesting Times [Short AARs welcome here!]

[Wizzie]

I looked around the forum and found it stuffed to bursting point with ideas for game tactics, research on game mechanics, polls on preferred settings, debates over strategy and gameplay and a hundred other meaningful and helpful topics. Something was wrong. Where were was the boasting, the bragging, the endless stories beginning with "In my campaign...", the thread where you need not have a head full of rules functions, triggers, reason or even logic? Where was the thread where you could quite happily do what we actually all came here to do; to speak at length about our experiences in a computer game that any of our friends or family would think quite insane to be so enthralled by? I present to you that thread! Talk about your Empire spanning the globe, conquered under a single King, talk about your colonial wheeling and dealing, talk about the cold war of espionage you waged against your neighbour for years, about your fight against Papal oppression, about the crusader states you conquered and defended against Mongol and Timurid hordes, or simply about that paradise/hellhole of a city you created, that Saint/Devil of men who grew up under your paternal mouse-clicks. In short, and without attempting any more literary tomfoolery, I'd like to hear some of the stories you've picked up in the game. Great battle? Tell me about it. Completely lunatic family tree? Show me the pictures! A campaign that you think would make an epic film to rival the Lord of the Rings? Write me the screenplay!

I'll start the ball rolling my introducing King Rodrigo of the Spanish:



Rodrigo started out in life as the son of an upstart noble, residing in Castille. His father, Alfonso, was so arrogant he proclaimed himself King of all Spain. Now, setting out to prove it, he took Rodrigo along with him as he burnt, murdered and pillaged his way around the Iberian peninsula. Zaragoza, Valencia, Granada, Cordoba. All fell before His Majesty's dusty boot, as our star Rodrigo kicked at his heels, thoroughly bored, behind him. But then Rodrigo's luck broke through. A young rebel noble living around Zaragoza decided to throw off Alfonso's manacles of oppression and declare himself free of the Spanish Empire, gathering a small smattering of Iberian troops to his side. In those days Alfonso had so little authority over his empire he had to send his own son, Rodrigo, with a few Knights to deal with the rebellion, lest his own troops desert and join the revolutionaries.

Rodrigo sighed and slouched off to do battle, and as he did, his life became infinetly more interesting. He found in the thrill of battle he felt truly alive, and with the adrenaline of the rebel battle still coursing fresh in his veins he saw opportunity as the Portugese declared war, blockading the Spanish port at Leon. The Portugese garrison at Pamplona, a vast army of elite troops, headed north, leaving the castle undefended in their wake as Rodrigo led his merry band of Jinettes and Knights past. Seeing his opportunity, he stormed the castle, a Spanish spy opening the fortress gates for his triumphant cavalry. Now having set himself up as a force to be reckoned with, commanding the most advanced fortress in Spain, he found the consequences of his actions rather dubious.

The Portugese army, seeing their folly, marched back to besiege the castle. Rodrigo was in a tough spot. He had only a few mounted troops, not nearly enough to hold the fortress against the full Portugese army. Sallying his troops, he charged his Knights again and again into the soft-points of his besiegers line, his Jinettes riding merrily around their flanks laying waste with their Javelins. And through sheer force of effort and exertion, he managed to route the entire Portugese army. Raising troops from the castle and nearby city of Zaragoza he followed his retreating foe up into France, where they hid at the Castle at Bordeaux.

And as he led his glorious men up through the mountain passes, Pope Gregory in his infinite wisdom declared a heresy in Southern France, calling all christians to take up arms and fight in a Crusade aimed at the fortress of Toulouse. Rodrigo, now joined by his sister's husband Prince Val, took up the cross and stormed Toulouse, diverting from his origional target of Bordeaux. Those were golden days, and before it was over Rodrigo found himself a Knight of Santiago, rich beyond his wildest dreams, and one of the most respected Knights and Commanders in the known world. His father, rotting away in the castle at Toledo, would soon pass away, leaving Rodrigo King of the burgeoning Spanish Empire. He would later assault Marseilles and hold it against many invasions by the Milanese, Sicilians and a veangeful France, while his sons and nephews conquered lands in north Africa and northern France, proclaiming victory in his name. Alas, he was not to die on the battlefield he spent so much of his life on, but instead to pass away in his sleep in the eve of a prepared invasion of Italy. His nephew, the son of Prince Val, would go on to build a great Cathedral in Marseilles to bury him in, so his legacy would be eternally remembered.

So, tell me, what has captured your imagination in your campaigns?

P.S. I should also say I was using Kobal2fr's CherryVannilla VnV's fix for this campaign, which may have contributed to Rodrigo's impressive stats (as it's actually possibly to stay in a city without becoming an absolute git overnight using that mod ).

[Czar Alexsandr]

Bravo! Excellent introduction and idea. I've got some stuff from my campaign I'll contribute.

First of.. The Tale of Mikhail the Honurable of Russia. Mikhail dispite feeling unappreciated and well neigh far from holding the throne was a valient warrior of the north. He took Kiev and later Iasi. From Iasi he fought countless invasions from both the Hungarians and the Poles. Being a compasionate man he never sacked a city or killed a prisoner. He chosse to occupy both Kiev and Iasi instead of his other options. He released many many prisoners and battle and was greatly respected as a fighter and advesary.

But the treacherous Hungarians finally took there toll. They invaded Iasi and seiged the castle. Poor Aleksei Iceifovich, his adopted son, could not bring up the main army for the Russian Armies defense of the south based in Kiev. Mikhail could have waited but his compassion for the inhabitants of Iasi had affected him. Reports of villages and farms burned drove him to his steed. At the grand age of 55 he mounted his horse and gave a inspiring speach to his few but beloved cavalry men. He sallied forth in the night suprising the beseiging huns. Arrows flew like hail into the front of the Huns as Horse archers rained the awful volleys. Boyar Son's ran around the back to kill the general. Mikhail and his men fought from the Hunish rear and utterly destroyed the enemies Cavalry and catapults. With all arrows fired and all Javiliens thrown Mikhail and his men celebrated few men died to the inferior Hun's attempt at cavalry! But... the celebration was sort lived... a long line of torches revealed a mass of infantry.. armoured swordsmen.. so numerous that defeat was certain. Mikhail... trembleing took up his trumpet and blew his horn. Swinging his sword before him he ordered the charge. The charge that would be so many men's last. But as he had said in his speach.. let your dying cry be.. "For the church! For St. Micheal and the Motherland!"

Charging forward many Hungarians died in the initial charge... many more died after Mikhail and his men disengaged for another charge... but alas.. the men got caught between the soldiers and the rubble of the catapults. Mikhail fought valiently until his fall... dead from the countless wounds he'd suffered. Mikhails's men fought till none stood. Even the Kazack horse archers fought like valient men. But at the end of the day Iasi was lost. The local Orthodox churches held masses for their beloved St. Mikhail and his brave men. The Huns discused what should be done with the two Boyar Son's they captured. In an act of mercy they were released. As well Iasi was occupied. Mikhail had saved the villagers afterall. But after a few yrs of Hunish Occupation Aleksei finnaly undertook the campiagn to retake Iasi. Dispite the hatred he felt towards the enemy.. in honour of Mikhail he treated them with chivalry and fought not one but two legendary battles to retake Iasi.

Now that's drama!

[Sheogorath]

The Life and Times of King Rory of Scotland

Well, it started out simple enough. Scotland was consolidating its hold on the former rebel provinces of England, which went well enough. A bit of reinforcement and building up and then the inevitable.
Y'see, King Rory was bored. There isnt much to do in Scotland initially except build up.
So, Rory got an army together, lots of large men with larger swords, some pikes, and various Highlanders. This merry lot got together in York and got naughtily drunk one night, in fact, the noise was so loud that the English got rather upset with them and sent an army to the border, a full stack army in fact.
Now, King Rory was a bit unstable at this point, in fact, he had trouble getting on his horse, but nonetheless, he got on and stayed on even though he had to get some rope to keep himself from sliding under the horse and knocking his head on the ground. The English were yelling for the Scotts to turn down the bagpipes and the Scotts were yelling at the English to bring more beer.

Nobody is quite sure who started the resulting battle (well...I am, but that makes no difference), but history records that some time in the 12th century AD a merry Scottish army walked, rolled and was carried out of York and met the English on the border, where a mighty battle ensued. Just prior to this King Rory was joined by a force of the Knights of St. John traveling from Caervanon to York, by pure coincidence of course. These would play a critical role in the upcoming battle.

Curiously, the larger English forced had only a hundred or so archers in it, being mainly composed of spearmen. The Scottish army was, however, chiefly made up of well armoured pike and sworsemen all eager for a fight. But even the Scotts were a little nervous at the odds, being outnumbered more than 2:1.

The initial phase of the battle was quite brief. The few English archers immidiatly rushed forward, and began to bombard the Scottish front lines with volleys of arrows, the Scottish noble archers and their various auxialiaries returning fire with accurate and deadly shots from their bows.
King Rory, of course, did not enjoy this. He was still quite drunk and thus not exactly reasonable. Regardless of the danger, he charged through his archers at the exposed Englishmen, riding down many of them and routing the limey dogs on the spot.
The sight of their companions being slaughtered forced the main English line into action and the whole force immidiatly broke into a run towards the Scots, who were safely entrenched on a large hill.

Now the real battle began. The Scotts, on hearing the battlecries of the English, raised a rousing chorus of their own and hurtled down the hill, claymores and pikes glinting as they clashed with the English militiamen, slaughtering them in vast numbers.
However, Scottish skill and moral was no match for the English numbers, until the Knights of St. John joined the battle.

The Knights had manuvered around behind the English in the confusion, smashing the single unit of Hobilars which the English general was attached to and then turning their attention to the vulnerable rear of the massed militia forces engaging the Scotts.

With much shouting and a couragous cry, the Knights hurled themselves into battle, the hooves of their horses churning up the muddy field as they sped towards the English, lances ready and helmets gleaming.
Before the English could react, one hundred and twenty Knights of St. John slammed into the back of their lines, crushing the flanks and instantly routing half the English army, whereupon the Knights and Scotts flanked the English center, which soon gave way, leading to a massive route in which over a thousand Englishmen died as they fled the battlefield.

The end result?
Over 2,000 dead English, for a mere four or five hundred Scotts.

The campaign went well from their, within a matter of a few years the Scotts had the full control of the British isles, and before the decade was out the English fortress at Caen fell, the English king fleeing to Angers where he and his country met their end at the hands of a joint Franco-Scottish army.

King Rory died at the age of 68, having lived a full and long life, he alas, fell to Egyptian arrows in the Battle of Gaza, leading the triumphant charge of the Scotts into the fortress where they won another great victory, although their joy was somewhat diminished at the loss of their great king.

Unfourtunatly, King Rory was followed by a succession of unfit rulers, King Kirk the Mad and King Rodric the Lewd, neither of whom acomplished any great feats personally, although Rodric compleated the first Cathedral in the world and sent an expidition to the Crimean to take it for Scotland, as well as establish Papal control of the Low Countries.

[Martok]

Since you guys are writing campaign stories, I'm going to go ahead and move this thread to the AAR forum. (Just trying to keep the Citadel clear for threads that are more directly related to questions/problems about the game, is all!) Please continue to post your stories, guys--they're very enjoyable reads.

[Czar Alexsandr]

I'll have to play more to get more stories. I will though! Lol. Currently I've only played England, Russia, and Egypt. Now that I think about it... Some pretty sweet stuff happened in that Egyptian campaign.

[Czar Alexsandr]

Lol. I see this thread has been a bit neglected. We shall see it revieved! I always seem to find something interesting in my campaign. I'll write down some and see if anyone else is interested. Share your warstories folks! lol.

Well to start off why not a nice Russian story...

During the course of the Russian-Polish war the Polish declared a crusade for Antioch, a city in Egyptian hands. At this moment his Majesty Grand Duke Valdimir the watcher declared Russia an ally of Egypt and promised to squash Polish and the rest of the cathloic zealots for the mere price of Aleppo. Aleppo was a small castle and of little value to the Eqyptians. But the mere knowledge that we would be able to follow Poland into the holy land was enough for his majesty.

The Poles being far grander in arms and numbers than we had expected had taken Antioch. This did not sit well with the Russians or the Eqyptians. But the belleagured Polish Prince saw in supreme shock his fathers blood enemies were seperated merely by a small woden bridge in north Antioch. Taking the offensive the Polish prince wisely attacked fast. The guardians of Aleppo were a rabble of 120 Greek Turkopule mercenaries and 80 nobles from the ranks of the Druzhina and Boyar Sons. Despite the Poles having a far superior and well rounded veteran army the greeks and adventerous nobles wern't the patient types.

The valley were the battle would take place was a redish pink hue. The sunset made it even more so, it was otherworldy. Then the four units of Crusader Knights stood atop the opposing ridge. Wearing the redish tunics and bearing their crusader sheilds the red crosses charged boldly towards our ranks, followed by there sergeants, archers, and a rabble of ridiculous pilgrims.

The Crusaders went down into the valley, the bowl, and starting to climb our ridge. The Turkopules got some excellent shots into the enemy in the valley, but what could stop 160 crusader knights from our ranks? Probably nothing, the Boyar Son's engaged the rear as the Druzhina fought man to man. The Druzhina fell left and right, the vigour of the north was nothing to the numbers of the western agressors. The Turkopules had been in a half ring, but the ring widened. The Boyar Son's were soon engulfed and forced to engage in hand to hand combat. They would fight the crusaders alone, for only three of the Druzhina lived, and at this time they quit the field.

The captian of the Boyar Son's arroused the courage and hearts of his men to flee, to move up to a hill and make the last stand. The greek mercenaries concerned more with victory and plunder promised victory. A debt they would pay in full.

Managing to get the Boyar Son's to a hill with Two units of Turkopules they fired missles and threw what few javilien until the third Turkopule unit could come up from the rear. That unit came and after long while the knights, who bore the brunt of our offense, fled. In a curious strategy, the Turkopules and Boyar Son's attacked the fleeing knights, whittling down thier numbers while the Polish Infantry stood still and eager to face what looked like a winning battle. Having cut down enough knights to be safe if they ended their rout and regained their courage, the Turkopules fired what few arrows they still had in thier quivers. The Polish infantry, in it's tight formation, was slaughtered by volleys of death fired from the height and from behind, scattered. And just in time. For the army had depleted it's arrows, and spears are far less imposing when thinned out. The horsemen charged and the morale broke. Unit after unit fleed from the might of our cavalry.

And so the Polish fled, and our glorious army won a heroic victory. One any general could be proud of. The victory was not without it's losses. The Druzhina for example had experienced a nightmare. The three that lived were disbanded and moved into a sanitorium. The Boyar Sons, though vital, able, and determined lost a good 20 or so brave men. But the Turkopules lost solely a single man to a mistake a comrade in another Turkopule unit had made. And so.. in a valley in Allepo the Polish had founded and lost a Kingdom in the levant. And the war from then on was a short and one sided affair...