Priydan

I will look into this, quite busy the next few weeks but it looks active with plenty of players: )

The Spheniscan forces are relived to find that the only enemy to be found here is a particularly violent and randy ram. The Spheniscan Commander enjoys the ram later that night...for food, of course. There will always be malicious gossip from the citadel after all...

The Spheniscan Republic has gained a small state producing a basic amount of food and taxable peasantry.

The soil here is good a fertile from the sea airs, great fields of barley, wheat and rye grow here.

French Slavland has gained a small state producing a basic amount of food and taxable citizens.

"I am surprised by your genorosity, afterall I had heard of such brutality. I have lived in these lands many long years, so I will accept the governorship of my homeland."

"Hurrah! Hurrah! We are saved. The men's spirits are raised. The army is rejuvenated and begins preparations to advance in an open march formation. The new commander is well received, considered one of the finest in the Spheniscan army.

A horn bellows out from beyond a small hillock near the right flank of the army. The commander immediately orders a halt and to take defensive positions where they stand, fearing an ambush. A small troop of armored warriors on horseback, under a white banner ride towards the commander's position.

"Keep your wits about you men, it could be a heathen trick. But stay your weapons for now. You men, with me, now. Hyaah" the commander sets out with his personal bodyguard towards the small troop. They both meet in the middle of the field, staying on their horses.

"My name is Hetman Okurz, commander in chief of the Ferenci Army. You have come to my lands and seek to take what is not yours. Many of you have died by my sword alone. My men had you beaten on the field, but for those mongrel dogs who desecrate the dead. We understand your quarrel with them - we now share it. Your leader fell in battle, and honourable noble death, as good as any great warrior can hope. We no longer wish to fight. My men are spent. In the night we hunted down those damned corpse molesters and made great sport of them. We have taken, their leaders" Orkurz makes a gesture with his hand and points back across the plain. 10 men stand there, bloody and naked bound by ropes "they are yours, if you would will it?" The Sphensican Commander sits steady and sullen in his horse. "We make this proposal to you. You have proven yourselves noble warriors, which I respect. Will you allow us to join your horde? We are worthy soldiers as we have proven on the field. We see your supply train, we see your leaders riches, and we think that is something we would like. We seek blood, gold and glory. Be damned man, have ye no tongue? What say you?"

Should the Spheniscan commander accept the offer, they will receive:

350 Light Horsemen

1 Very Competent General

330 Spearmen

1000 Militia

Should he refuse, there will be another bloody battle.

The die is now cast!

The hostile forces do not decide to charge down the Spheniscan forces are they re-adjust their position, Hetman Okurz statting that is "Rude to interrupt your enemy while he is making a state. He sits astride his great war horse, observing the Spheniscan maneuvering. "See that they lack supplies? Their arrows will not harm us here be sure of it. But still, we must dislodge them from our land! Curse these infidels!"

The Light Horsemen on the right flank advance at a canter, skirting by the spear walls - Okurz is testing the Spheniscan forces.

"See! Don't you see I am right? They have no arrows left! Rider - deliver this message to Hetman Boldun at the center and then on to the far left to Chief Wargurz. They are to advance at once!" The rider nods in affirmation, then sets off the battlefield on his pony. Okurz sits back in his horse confidently, a great smile on his face.

The center of the enemy forces, 2000 Milita and 500 Spears advance quickly towards the front of the Spheniscan front liner, before breaking into a final charge just 20 meters away from their target. The two forces collide with bone-cracking impact, spears splintering, shields cracking and men dying. The attackers suffer great losses and many grievious wounds, but they are fierce warriors and start to slowly push the spears back. The enemy spearmen jab forwards to the extreme of both flanks, penning the defenders ever closer together. The Spheniscan commander draws his great longsword, and at the head of 200 Men-at-Arms sallies forth, plugging a small gap that had emerged "Men, to arms! Kill these dogs!" buoyed by their commander, the Men-at-Arms engage in brutal hand-to-hand combat, stopping the enemy from pressing any advantage. Several hundred militia are routed, but before anymore can be routed, a quick spear thrust to the jugular mortally wounds the Spheniscan commander, who swiftly drowns in a pool of his own blood. The battle of the front flank ebbs and flows, with neither side able to make significant tactical advantage. The Spheniscan second-in-command, himself caked in blood and offal, breaks away from the frontline to survey the field, just as the enemy Light Horsemen engage on his right flank!

Hetman Okurz, seeing that the battle for the front is in the balance, and observing several hundred militia fleeing across the field decides to engage. He orders 450 Light Horsemen under his personal command to attack, drawing his great scimitar and lowering his armored visor. "Charge! Hiy-eeeeeeh! Hiy-eeeeeeeh!" The horsemen hit the spearmen full tilt, horses and men flying through the air, spears and swords thudding with the almighty impact. They are lightly armored and the spearmen wreak a hefty toll on them, but in return they start to roll up the Spheniscan right flank. With two sides now engaged, the third side, the left flank of the Spheniscan force prepares for the onslaught of the "corpse fuckers".

Okurz still lives, slicing at anything that moves. He senses a great victory is close, the right flank is being rolled up and the center is being pushed fiercly. Now, he thinks, now the left flank must engage. Victory is in our grasp!

But Okurz is to be disapointed. The "corpse fuckers" have halted their advance. They are cowardly folk, for all their heinous acts and do not fancy dying today. Besides, there are plenty of good looking corpses alreadt - they aren't picky about which side the corpse fought for. They have stopped to fuck corpses that were killed in the initial flurry of arrows. The 50 horsemen sent by Okurz to assist them are incensed, drawing their swords on the corpse fuckers, and a mass brawl breaks out. The new Spheniscan commander, buoyed by the actions of the enemy is quick to act, moving his men from the rear and left flank to reinforce the center and right. 

"Damn those men! They have spoiled my great victory" cries Okurz, as he slices through a spearmans skull, brains splattering across his visor. "Fall back men! Back! Do not run, dogs! You have not lost this day!" The message get through to the frontline, and the militia and spearmen pull back - the militia in general dissoray but the spearmen in reasonably good order. The Spheniscan forces are too spent to pursue their advantage. They will remain here and hold the field until supply and reinforcements can make it through.

CONCLUSION - DRAW

Spheniscan forces hold the field but not the region. They must be reinforced next turn to fight again, or they can retreat. Wounded units cannot fight next turn unless healers are sent.

CASUALTIES

Hostile Forces

97 Lighthorsemen Dead / 58 Lighthorsemen Wounded

381 Militia Dead/ 658 Militia Wounded 600 Routed/Defected

68 Spearmen Dead / 89 Spearmen Wounded

Spheniscan Forces

265 Spearmen Dead / 342 Spearmen Wounded

52 Men-at-Arms Dead / 98 Men-at-Arms Wounded

1 Commander Killed

The great formation halts and begins to quickly re-form into defensive formations - the sign of a professional army. The only problem is, yet again, the lack of supply. The archers have already spent most of their arrows, nullifying their impact. The table formation itself is strong, but lacks real maneuverability. The lack of supply again means that unless decisive action is taken they will not be able to hold forever.

The enemy forces are not strong enough to complete an envelopment of the Spheniscan forces, however they converge on the table from the Front, Left & Right Flank, leaving the chance of escape to the rear a possibility. Should the Spheniscan forces yet again retreat it will surely be a blow to morale. The Commander now realises his lack of supply is critical. He faces three options.

1. HOLD & HOPE. He holds his nerve with the table, trusting that the Enemy will decide to launch an assault,

2. OFFENSIVE. He hopes to revert to his previous plan and smash the enemy forces, hopefully enough to break them.

3. RETREAT. Realizing yet again that they have overstretched their supply, he pulls his forces back.

THE BATTLE OF THE OKARRA STRAIT

The Spheniscan initial cavalry archer raids is reasonably ineffectual due to lacking numbers. The massed wall of spears and infantry advance headlong towards to Militia line, who are flanked by two companies of fierce tribal spearmen. The enemy sees the massed phalanx, and knows that it will crush the center if left unchecked. On the right flank, 450 Light Horsemen  circle around the phalanx to attack its delicate rear under the able command of Hetman Okurz - a real brute. A smaller force of 50 Light Horsemen moves on the left flank to dislodge the minor irritant of horse archers. Marching from the far left, unchecked, is 450 tribal militia - the corpse fuckers.

The Spheniscan commander notes the enemies movements from the rear of his great phalanx. He knows that if he continues the assault on the center he will surely smash through, but the risk of encirclement will be high - the phalanx formation is susceptible to flanks attacks. Will he hold his nerve, or change his battle plan?

PLAN A - March on! The Spheniscan phalanx hits the Militia full on in the center, seeking to take control of the center ground.

PLAN B - Caution! The Spheniscan phalanx checks its movements and forms up to protect its flanks from assault.

PLAN C - Feigned withdrawal! The Spheniscan phalanx checks its advance and begins to retreat in order. The enemy may see this as a sign of weakness and charge its cavalry headlong into ruin.

PLAN D - Retreat! The Spheniscan Commander loses his bottle and orders a full retreat.

The Warlords leave the lands behind them and march further and further away from home, rumours of disgruntled states are naught but the "jabberings of peasants and womenfolk" to the Warlords.

The locals here are also miners, but not of iron. They mine precious metals - mercury, platinum and aluminium as well as small supplies of copper. The miners are a hardy folk but keep themselves to themselves. They allow the region to fall under to protection of the Slavs, but forever keep their distance as long as their mining goes uninterrupted..

Baron von Priydan and Baron von Sandburg have concluded that no one man shall ever rule here again. It shall be run by the protectorate of Barons, one per region. The vast coffers of King Rook have been deemed to be worth 20,000 Credits. The Barons begin a complete overhaul of the military.

Stone Fort is built in Q12 (Lower Eschen)

Stone Fort is built in Q10 (Upper Eschen)

Stone Fort is built in ME (Westchalfen)

Stone Fort is Built in MM (Upper Saschen)

Stone Fort is Built in MI (Wolfenstracht)

(2500 Credits)

Baron von Graff (Q12 - Lower Eschen) 2000 CREDITS

1000 Militia (200)

200 Pikemen (400)

400 Longbowman (1200)

400 Spearmen (200)

Baron von Engels (Q10 - Upper Eschen) 2350 CREDITS

1000 x Militia (200)

500 x Spearmen (250)

200 x Halberdier (1000)

300 x Longbowman (900)

Baron der Goff (ME - Westchalfen) 1750 CREDITS

1000 x Militia (200)

500 x Spearmen (250)

500 x Men at Arms (750)

100 x Cavalry Archer (500)

Baron Baumgartlinger (MM (Upper Sachen) 1550 CREDITS

1000 x Militia (200)

500 x Spearmen (250)

200 x Men at Arms (300)

100 x Pikemen (200)

200 x Longbowman (600)

Baron von Haase (MI - Wolfenstracht) 1550 CREDITS

1000 x Militia (200)

500 x Spearmen (250)

100 x Longbowman (300)

400 x Pikemen (800)

Baron von Priydan & Baron von Sandburg (Blackhaven - The Capital City) 8300 CREDITS

10000  x Milita (2000)

200 x Spearmen (100)

1000 x Pikemen (2000)

500 x Longbowman (1500)

1000 x Men at Arms (1500)

50 x Knights (750)

40 x Supply (400)

2 x Blacksmith (50)

The army can never be reinforced further than this.

A PROCLAMATION IS PUT FORTH:

THE BARONS HAVE QUESTIONED THE DIVINE RIGHTS OF THE SOVEREIGN! HE WHO CAN SUCCESSFULLY DEFEAT THE BARONS WILL WIN 35,000 CREDITS. PLAYERS MAY WORK TOGETHER ON THIS AND SHARE THE SPOILS OF WAR HOW THEY DEEM FIT.

TO INVADE BY SEA YOU MUST HAVE THE CORRECT EQUIPMENT. TO INVADE BY LAND YOU MUST SHARE A BORDER - OR IN TIME OF ALLIANCE ONLY ONE PLAYER MAY CONNECT AND USE THAT AS A BRIDGING POINT FOR ALL ALLIED FORCES.

The people are outraged and shocked. Baron Borimov was by no means well loved, but he was not some bloody foreigner.

The people will never forget this...it is wise that the Warlords do not either.

The Warlords gain two small states with a basic production of iron and taxable citizens.

The Warlords march towards the sea, itching for a fight that seems forever illusive.

The new state is thriving with industry, great plumes of smoke scatter the horizon as blacksmiths work at their forges and the smelters are at overload. The iron mining in the region is owned by Baron Alexander Borimirov, a proud man, distrustful of foreigners and even more so Warlords - however he understands the ways of the world.

"We welcome the great Warlords from across the hills and plains. My name is Baron Alexander Borimov, the head of all iron mining production in this region. Your reputation precedes you, great warlords, and we wish you no ill will here. We may hold different beliefs, but we can work together. I own this land and the adjacent state (G8) Aand have grown very wealthy from it. We have the greatest smith's in Eastern Europe, and the iron here...the quality is beyond compare. We wish for things to remain this way. Allow me to retain control of these regions and we will be a vassal state, of course. We will sell you the iron, at a great price. I hope that you will work alongside me?"

The Warlords have two choices:

1. Accept the offer. The two states will become vassals of the Warlordship and receive the resource benefit of the region, but not be able to charge taxes in either region.

2. Reject the offer. Baron Borimov is either imprisoned or executed. The Warlordship gains the states as vassals and gets both the resource and tax bonuses, however will prove unpopular and risks the chance of rebellion.

Emperor Cenna need not worry about gold, for here be there diamonds!

The locals here are well skilled in their extraction with small mining communities throughout the region.

The Caledonian Empire has gained a small but invaluable source of diamonds and a basic amount of taxable citizens. Military credit is raised by 25 points.

There is wood, and lots of it! A great supply of lumber to help rebuild the citadel for sure.

The French-Slavs have gained a medium sized state producing a good amount of lumber.

"Milord, they be here! We have them now damn their hides' cries an infantryman returning from a scouting party.

"Ha, we have them now. We shall hang their corpses from the trees, such a feast for the crows!" exclaims the Spheniscan General.

"Milord, Milord!" interrupts another scout from a different ranging party, blood on his brow and a nasty gash to his forearm. "To the East...barbarians...thousands of 'em!"

"Speak to me man, how many truly be there?"

"At last count, milord, 2000 common foot (militia), 500 Spears and 500 light horse...that's wot we counted afore they found us."

Damn it all, thinks the Spheniscan commander, villains on both flanks! To flee or to fight?

KING ROOK THE FLASH, FIRST OF HIS NAME, HAS BEEN EXECUTED

Live at the Execution!

King Rook the Flash was his own worst enemy. Self-righteous, arrogant, and unscrupulous; he had a lust for wealth and avarice that was beyond compare. His troubles began the moment he began his lust for diamonds with which to adorn himself – no diamond was ever big enough or shiny enough. King Rook simultaneously alienated both his subjects and his closest barons, prompting a series of events that ultimately lead to a swift and bloody uprising by his closest barons, Andreas von Priydan and Bernard von Sandburg.

Rook’s problems revolved around the distribution of wealth, chiefly in form of diamonds. Rook cut out the barons and commanders of his military, personally taxing the diamonds himself – his barons felt impoverished. And if things were bad for the barons, the peasantry felt even more aggrieved. In his 10 year reign he had made no efforts to appease the people or improve their way of life, and when the great carts of diamonds rolled back across the border into Blackhaven the peasants gawped and chuntered that the King was mean and driven mad by his diamond lust.

The continuing civil unrest in the capital forced Rook to meet with his barons, however he blamed them for the nations ills, calling them jealous money-grabbing Jews.. The following year the Barons revolted against King Rook’s rule, and the King was desperately short of friends of any stature.

The tide of the Baron Uprising lasted only for six days, culminating in the surrender of the palace guard at the citadel when met with the forces of Baron von Priydan. The King was charged with high treason against the realm of The Havens. At his trial, Rook refuted the legitimacy of the court and refused to enter a plea, cursing his barons for traitors and fools. He wept when his diamonds were taken from him. However, not withstanding the absence of a plea, the baron court rendered a verdict of guilty and a sentenced the King to death, declaring:

Four days later, the King was led to the scaffold erected by the barons at Marketstadt, Blackhaven.

" I go to be in the sky, with diamonds"

February 1^st 1410 was a bitterly cold day. King Rook went to his execution wearing two heavy woolen shirts so that he might not shiver in the cold and appear to be afraid. The following account of the event comes from an anonymous observer and begins as the doomed King addresses the crowd from the scaffold:

"To the people, forgive me if I have wronged you. Do you not protect your sovereign in his hour of need? Have I not done such great things for you? Oh, I guess not actually. But, you know, diamonds and that, they’re not really for the likes of you. And to the barons, be thee cursed. You will never look as good in diamonds as I, be your sweet sweet cribs be stricken from the earth by the good Lord Kanye. Screw you guys, I’m going home.”

And to the executioner he said, - 'If I just pull my head through my shirt, do you think I can get away with it?”

Then he called to the bishop for his cap, and having put it on, asked the executioner, 'Does my hair still look good in this?' who desired him to put it all under his cap; which, as he was doing by the help of the bishop and the executioner, he turned to the bishop, and said, 'I still look bitchin, don’t I? You know it homes.'

The bishop said, 'There is but one stage more, which, though turbulent and troublesome, yet is a very short one. You may consider it will soon carry you a very great way; it will carry you from earth to heaven; and there you shall find to your great joy the prize you hasten to, a crown of glory.'

The king adjoins, 'I go to be with my bitch Lucy, is the sky with all the motherfucking diamonds in the world'

The bishop: 'You are a real tit, you know that don’t you?.'

Then the king asked the executioner, 'Is my hair still sweet?' And taking off his undergarments and windmilling for a short time before being restrained.

Rook said to the executioner, Dirty bitches love that shit.'

The executioner: ‘Remember it is a cold day'

King: Fuck you homes, that was impressive shit.'

Executioner: 'It could have been a bit bigger, sir.'

King: ‘Ohhh shit homes, you are real bitch - '

He was cut short, literally (by about a head’s length) when the executioner at one blow severed his head from his body; which, being held up and showed to the people to almighty cheers. “The King is dead! Long live the, erm…what do we have now?”

Baron von Priydan and Baron von Sandburg will discuss the future of the Havens at length to decide the fate and course of this once great nation.

The fine city of York, renowned for it's city walls, Great Cathedral and vibrant riverways built upon the wealth of ahem *diamonds* welcomes the Brittean Army.

The Archbishop of York invites the Brittean Commander to a great service at York Minster in which he proclaims Region as a protectorate of Brittean Atlantis. The Archbishops robes drip with diamonds and even the Brittean commanders are in awe of the wealth on display - far more used to dealing with cows.

Brittean Atlantis now controls a state with a basic but invaluable amount of diamonds and taxable citizens (and the greatest city known on earth, York...)

Barton de Humber is all too keen to sign such generous terms. He thanks you for sparing his life...oh, and that of the men too, of course.

The Brittean Government has shown excellent judgement both militarily and diplomatically in this scenario, and THE MOD OF WAR determines that he should receive 25 extra credits daily.

Barton de Humber looks out from the earth walls, then back to the far side of the village which is now aflame.

"Damn these fiends and their fire. They are everywhere. We cannot hold. All is lost, can't ye see? We are all damned unless we surrender".

A white flag is raised above the Earthen Walls. 37 defenders lay dead, their bodies plucked full of burning arrows. What to do with the remaining 463 militia men and Barton de Humber is entirely up to the commander of the Brittean forces, but remember: for every action there will be a consequence.

"More bloody cows," groans a common foot soldier "all we ever conquer is bloody cows!"

The Warlords are pleased. The peasantry are affable in a scared, unintelligent way and the cows certainly look meaty. Indeed, this is as fine a place as any the Warlords have come across, providing ample farmland and taxable citizens.

However not all in the Warlordship is good.

Whilst the Warlords enjoy yet another conquest, The Capital City is ravaged by a horrendous earthquake. The Wooden Fort has crumbled to nothing more than kindling and rubble, the barracks and stables equally have been reduced to nothing. The people say that it is a curse that the Warlords have brought upon them by their lust and greed for more and more lands. The City is in urgent need of repair. 15% of the population has been wiped out, and a further 30% are now homeless. Unless the Warlords make major efforts to repair and restore what is broken, their empire will become rotten from its very core.

News of Spheniscan brutality has spread far and wide, nobody dare resist or speak out in dissent.

One slimy toadie, Yakub Degajh, the local Hetman, grovels before the Spheniscan commander, his hands full of gold. "Take this, please, it is a gesture of my goodwill, and my goodwill is that of the people!"

The Spheniscan Republic has gained a state producing a basic but valuable supply of gold and taxable citizens.

Brittean intelligence has already learnt that a small hostile force is in the region, and so have come more prepared to fight than their previous naval disembarkment.

The Brittean forces disembark on a sand bar unimpinged. The land is muddy and soft, so initial progress is slow.

The hostile forces, 500 strong under the command of the local landholder, Barton de Humber have chosen to defend themselves in a village located on a spit. A 4ft high earthern wall cover the East and South Side, water to the West and a flooded ditch to the north. 

The commander of the Brittean forces is eager for a quick victory. He sees his choices as thus:

Plan A - A daring amphibious assault on the Western Side.

Plan B - Storm the walls in force.

Plan C - A diversionary attack via water while a main force assaults the wall.

Plan D - Plan C reversed.

The weather is clear (no troop penalties) and the salty air is fresh and crisp - as good a place to die as any.

The hostile commander, Chief Benk Enobi, knows that he has the high ground. He knows that the enemy is greater in strength and numbers, but also how they are pinned on the beach. The only way from the beach to the cliffs is a narrow steep gully. He knows his men are itching to attack, but he is a veteran of many campaigns against sea invaders.

"Men. See how they prepare their defensive positions on the sand. If they wish to be lords sand and crabs let them stay there. We have the high ground! If they want our lands they can come bloody take them!

ALL FUTURE REQUESTS ARE TO BE POSTED HERE.

Format:

Nation Name

Troop Type - Number - Credits

i.e. MILITIA - X5 - 1 CREDIT

I will be checking spends, however you will only hear from me if your request is dis-approved for whatever reason given.

YOU MUST ADD ALL FORCES TO YOUR FACTBOOK - OTHERWISE THEY SHALL BE CONSIDERED VOID. I WILL BE CHECKING FACTBOOKS DAILY.