The Tin Isles [IB2 Conqvuestvs Britanniae] "finished"

[waveman]

Hello world! I've read quite a few AARs and meant to write one of my own for quite some time, so here it is. I recently downloaded M2TW again and the mod Invasio Barbarorum II: Conqvestvs Britanniae, which is my favorite incarnation of the Total War Series.
For those who don't know don't know, this part of IBII focuses on Northern Gaul, Germania, Denmark, and the British Isles during the twilight of the Roman Empire, more specifically the 450's AD. The major cultures are the Romans, Romano-Britons, Britons, Gael, and Germanic peoples such as the Franks, Thuringi, Saxons, and Jutes.
There are 6 turns per year.
RULES/PLAYSTYLE:
I will be playing as the Kingdom of Ebrauc, based out of Caer Ebrauc (York/Eboracum)

I will use toggle_fow to watch ai factions because I find it interesting to know what is happening in the world, what commanders are being successful, etc. For example, I think that it adds to the story/"history" if I know that the Saxon general my character is facing has rampaged across Frankia and Britain undefeated for 5 years, and that sort of thing. I will not use it during my turns, but I regularly employ -tons of spies and watchtowers anyways... so its rather unimportant and I may forget but whatever.

I will primarily follow a single character in first-person, with occasional switches to others in the 3rd person. Should my character die early on, HE'S DEAD
I might follow his descendants to continue the story, though

I will not cheat unless it is to help with the immersion in the game. Example: the Jutes have had a half-stack camping on an island for half a decade, so I move them to somewhere where they will actually be useful. Unfortunately I can not move captains with duplicate names or characters with accent marks in their names like the ash, but I will do my best.

I will use force_diplomacy when I see fit, primarily to make vassal states. I prefer to have all or nearly all factions remain in the game, and I think the idea of a "rebellion" in a "pacified region" (basically a protectorate deciding "F this man we want to attack you again") is quite interesting. However, to establish a protectorate the enemy must be down to very few settlements (1-3), preferably small, and have no military force to speak of, or mostly militia. OR they could be a faction on the brink of extermination that I decide to "house" or use as foederati or something.

Well, that's about it. I do have some posts nearly ready, as I will need to write and especially play several years ahead by necessity to have a coherent story.

ABOUT UPDATES: I have real-life responsibilities such as class and work and other stuff. So updates might come weekly, or they might come monthly, but so far I've been able to find decent ammounts of playing and writing time so I am feeling rather optimistic at the moment. Huzzah and all that.

We will begin with the Prologue, once I have worked out formatting stuff

[waveman]

Allright, to start this off I drew a quick map of the area. It's pretty close to scale; just bear with me bc I did not want to do any editing or anything, so I drew it in about a minute.
Here it is:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

As Ebrauc, I will start in a rather lonely part of the Island.
Or so it would seem! There are actually 2 factions just north of me, and the Angles have a small peninsula next to me as well as other territory further south. These lands are also not very wealthy, but that is neither here nor there. I have never played as Ebrauc before but have tried the Romans, Franks, Regnum Brittonum (aka Dummonia sometimes), Guened (Gwynedd, in N Wales), and the Concillium Britannae (Council of Britain, once ruled by Vortigern), and a Germanic faction. Anyways, it is interesting to note that the Jutes (who will hereafter be called Iotingas as they are in the game) start with land in Denmark and Britain, plus a small island near Frisia (Frieslond). There are 2 Saxon factions: Saxons in S Britain and the Sahsnotas south of Denmark.

[waveman]

PROLOGUE
Our story begins four centuries after the Roman invasion of Britain - or the Tin Islands, as they have been known. During these years Rome asserted herself over the people and began to assimilate them.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

This Process was a long and bloody affair, seeing many invasionsand rebellions, as well as thousands slain. Except in the far northern reaches Rome was victorious.

But this was 400 years ago.

Our story takes place neither in the civilized South nor in Romanized Gaul. It certainly does not focus on the feirce men of the north or the savage Seax or the wild Irish. Rather, it begins as all stories of men do, with a tumble in the hay. Our tumblers, if you will, are a free-spirited maid and a soldatus from Ebrauc on his way to battle with an invading force of northern Celts. Not mere raiders, this is was a large band intent on wresting the land, the rolling hills, jagged mountains, and fertile plains of Britannia Secunda, away from their owners. But the current owners are not Romans, as might be expected. They are a people that will be come to be known as the Romano-British of the fledgling kingdom of Ebrauc (Eburacum/York).
Our story is not about a Roman or a barbarian, but a man in between.
Our story is not about the young soldier, although he has plaid an important part.
Our story is about a young man growing up in the Ebrauc Kingdom, in the modest town northeast of the capital Caer Ebrauc, called Y Strafi.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

(I don't remember if I changed the campaign type, difficulty, etc)


For various reasons during the 5th century AD, Roman presence greatly decreased in Britain. Civil wars, invasions and userpers deprived the islands of their legionary protection and enforcers. In the turmoil of civil war and invaded by Attila the Hun, there is nothing the Empire can do. Under these circumstances the Southern Romano-British must make do; they must cling to their positions, their land, as they face seaborne invasions from all directions - hundreds of keels bearing thousands of Gaels, Pictavi, and Germans. Then there are the tribal revolts. Finally, there are those who do not wish to see the return of Rome. While in the South there is a tense stability between the Regnum Brittonum in Dummonia, ruled by Emerys and captained by Artorious, and their ally King Cunneda of Guened checking the power of the Concillium Britaniae, ruled by Vortigern, in the North the situation is less clear. Guened has her hills to hide in, Dummonia her fortresses and heavily Ropmanized military system, all on a secure peninsula. Vortigern has the economic base of England under the River Humber and his mercenary Saxons, Iotingas, and Angli warbands.
In contrast the North is a fractured realm. In the far north the Picts struggle against invaders from Dal Riata on their western coast and Strath Clyde and the confederation of Goddodin tribes to the south. These squabbling nations have an untested neighbor to the south of the Wall : the Ebrauc Kingdom. They are untried and untested, but also unknown and unpredictable. They fight not to buy time until the return of Rome, not over a military governorship, not over a blood-feud, not over a few hides of land or a stolen princess. Tired of being taken advantage of by Romans, of relentless taxes and having the flower of their youth stolen for long distant power truggles, they have seized the opportunity to throw off the yoke of the Romans. Will they come storming out of their hills? Only time can tell. For now, they must survive Aenglisc raids, rebellion, and the petty wars of the north.




The Ebrauc Kingdom was born under the leadership of Coel Hen, the last Dux of N Britain. He defended the north from the Picts but the north has now fragmented. The pretender kings of Strath Clyde claim to be masters of the north while the Goddodin tribes will bow to no man. Fortunately, the current king Cuenu is a warrior also. He is also a fine strategist but is growing old and has but a single grown heir. Cueneu made peace with the Angle raiders in the south, those closest to others of their kind, that he could wage war on a more northerly settlement.




In the year of our Lord 431 Dunawt was born to a woman named Aigneis in the town of Y Strafi. His mother married a merchant and the boy grew knowing the merchant as his father. The merchant, Otho, had a son by a previous marriage named Cynfyn. A sister, and a third brother were born 2 and 4 years later. Dunawt's elder by several years, Cynfyn acted as Dunawt's teacher, mentor, and role model. He taught Dunawt the way of the hunt and they joy of it, whether the prey be stag, boar, wolf, or woman. He taught Dunawt of the dubious glories of alcohol and practiced with him the way of the sword, spear and shield. And so Dunawt grew up, privileged but not rich, his father the warrior-turned-merchant often on long trading journeys. He learned his Latin, survived a fall from a horse, fought boys -- the word "bastard" was a whisper that he could never dispel-- and chased girls, had his own first awkward fumble in the hay. In short, he lived.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

This lifestyle changed after Otho returned from from a trading epedition with his best haul yet:fine horses from beyond Gaul to be sold to the warlords of Caer Ebrauc, and he had decided that he should bring his children to the Caer to learn the trade and meet his business associates, especially the local king. This was in the year 447.
Otho brought Cynfyn and Dunawt with him, but the third brother Ryddarch was ill and left behind under the care of his mother and sister. The boys were excited; they had not been to the Caer in several years as the road south was growing more dangerous, with roving bands of Seax and Aenglish raiders as well as Brittanic rebels frequently appearing.


They were awed by the strong walls, the houses of stone and the busy streets, the babble of voices. They were impressed too by the miles, the soldiers, standing tall and proud with gleaming spears, helms, and coats of bright scale mail.




King Cuenu was very pleased with the quality of the horses. "I will pay you 4000 solidus , or cattle, if you would prefer that" he said.
Otho was astonished. A startled "Thank you, my lord," was all he could manage in response- it was a truly generous sum. "I--"
The King cut him off. "However, I have another offer to make to you. I will halve this payment but offer to pay your travelling expenses if you can acquire more of these fine beasts for me. Furthermore, I will take your eldest son into my direct employ."
"Th-th-thank you m'lord."
"Understand however, that these horse must be for me, and me alone. We shall be needing them. Spare no expense. And I will not see any other local lords have them"
"Lord?" Cynfyn asked, confused and still reeling over his recent change in station. No longer would he be merely the son of a northern merchant; he was to be taken into the king's household!
"We are at war, boy," King Cuenu replied. "While our lands have been peaceful for these last years since we saw off that last Goddodin band to dare to cross the wall, change is in the air. We can fight in the north against the tribes of the Goddodins, the strong men of Strath Clyde, and even the Pictavi should they find a way to reach us. We can fight these marauding Seax bands and the Aenglisc settling to our south and at our shores. But we cannot fight on 3 fronts, or even 2. We need horses, cavalry, and you father has provided us with a lifeline that we desperately need."
"I see," Cynfin replied thoughtfully. "But if we can negotiate with these peoples, pit them against each other or even hire some, would that not be better? To find common interests?"
King Cuenu burst out into laughter. "I know what we'll do with you boy!" he roared. "I think he'll make a fine diplomat," he said to Otho, "and he shall have the accommodations and stipend accorded to one. Now, does the younger son have any ideas?"
Dunawt was surprised; he had only expected to watch the meeting and did not expect to be addressed by such a powerful man. "I think...." he said after some hesitation," I think.. that the advantage of the cavalry is twofold. It has the ability to move fast, to move far, and the ability to strike hard."
The king nodded approvingly. "Ye--"
Hardly believing that he dared do so, Dunawt interrupted the king. "Furthermore, if you intend to expand your power outside of these hills, and I suspect you do, you will need to cover even more distance and will fight even harder enemies."
Cuenu sat back in his chair and nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed lad, indeed. There is some possibility in what you say. You certainly lack your brother's diplomatic mind. Otho, I have another gift for you."

Dunawt was astonished. Would he become a warrior of the royal household?

"While I cannot take another into my service," ---Dunawt's hopes were crushed,--- "I will send you on your way with a good coat of mail. If the call to arms is sounded in your district, he wiill go to battle as a miles, a soldier, not as a lowly levy."


Repeating their thanks, the family left the company of the king. Their lives would change now, for Cynfyn was to remain in the capital for training. 3 years later, he recruited Dunawt as a member of his escort. Now a veteran of several skirmishes the lad commanded a small company of miles, or foot soldiers, and this at the young age of 19. These men hailed from Y Strafi and the surrounding villages, men of middling class to be able to afford the equipment and training of a semi-professional soldier. There was Macsen of Coed Celydonn, a strong bearded man skilled with the spear. Then Fulvius, a man of quick wit and ever jesting, and then others as well.

others:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

the brothers Meriadoc and Cadgor of the Brigantes - the first ever cheerful, the latter more serious, both clever; Glasobrin of Din Lloidis - a stoic man with falcon-like vision; Lywarch the ambitious 6th son of a local noble; Gwythyr- a man smooth with a sword and smoother still with women; Elidir of Dunuting - a regal noble, sometimes accompanying them for the experience

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

This is the background of our story. The year 452 sets the stage. Seaxon raiders have destroyed the kingdom of Ceint

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Under these circumstances King Cuenu dispatches Cynfyn northwards to find a friend, ally or at least trade, while another is sent southward.

He finds Gwalchmai, Prince of the Goddodin Tribes. Deeming him to be trustworthy, they come to an agreement

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

In this he is successful, as is the other diplomat with the Kingdom of Guened. (NW Wales)


Dunawt and his band are however recalled from Cynfyn during negotiations with the Goddoddin Tribes. King Cuenu has marched on Caerweir, a settlement just south of the Wall to prevent its strategic location from falling into the hands of the Gododdins. Diplomatic measures failing, he attacks it. Before Dunawt's departure, Cynfyn tells him "In all honesty, I could probably have negotiated their cooperation. But now I must return to talks with these tribesmen. God keep you brother, may we meet again soon."

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[waveman]

Whoops, to be more specific an alliance was made with Guened

[waveman]

Additional rule that I can now post: I can only play the battles in the royal family are commanding. Also, they will develop definitive styles I hope, so I will be playing them differently

[waveman]

Chapter 1:In which we focus on the assault on Caerweir

Dunawt

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

"The air is cold.


"I had never been in a host this grand. Fully three thousand men, some say, while some few others claim it to be five thousands. For myself, I do not know, but I could not see how these tribesmen could stand before our might. Madness.
Our spears stood tall like forests of steel-tipped trees; our banners fluttered in the breeze, more numerous than stars in the sky."

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Some companies are sent forward with great battering rams, while our archers let loose a hail of arrows upon the defenders. I do not envy those inside the stockade. When the walls and gate have been beaten down the men of the forward miles form shield-walls and advance inside the town.
I look to my companions; Macsen somehow looks calm, but I can see the worry on Fulvius' face and that of an Angle called Aella who somehow found his way into our army. How I wished I could be as calm as Macsen. Cadgor is praying silently; his brother Meriadoc stares off into the distance.

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These tribesmen have recalled all of their fiercest warriors behind the walls of this, their stronghold, supplemented by the strong arms of the common people. Unfortunately for them the discipline of our men proves to be too great, and while we take some grievous casualties, we secure the gate and breaches. My company and our larger unit were not committed to this fight, brother, but those that were tell me it was a fierce and bloody affair.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

advancing by shield-wall

Upon hearing of a force coming from within the settlement to flank our soldiers, the king himself leads a charge into the streets to intercept them. While the battle at the gate rages, my company of miles is dispatched to aid the king. For what the king did not know was that the elite noble cavalry was waiting around the corner and the infantry the king was attacking was merely bait. Our king is quite brave.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

We rush into the city, through the broken walls and past the corpses that lie there, and run to catch our lord.

As we approach I can see that he is being cornered by some of the enemy.
I shouted a warning to the king and hurled my spear, a heavy weapon made for combat and not throwing, at an enemy horseman. It punches through his coat of metal scales, killing him, provoking wails and cries of horror from the surrounding tribesmen: I have killed their chief!

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The enemy soon broke, and we pursued them through the streets. Some however fought to the last man

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All told we lost some 500 men while we counted over 1000 enemy slain. It was a bloodbath. The horror of the shield-wall brother, is terrible, yet in those moments I felt so alive."


"Cuenu is a strong king and an inspiring leader. Do you know that he was able to prevent the slaughter and rampage that is oft the end of conquest? He has also set about developing farmland across our lands"


Cynfyn sits still for some moments; I cannot tell what he is thinking. Finally he grins. "I am just happy you survived, my glorious warrior brother!"
Our companions laugh: my fellow veterans and, more importantly the Pictavi.

For I am no longer in my own country. I have, instead, journeyed north into the mysterious lands of Pictavia.

The king, Cuenu himself, told me to return to my brother in Pictavia. He said I'd earned a break and claimed that I'd saved his life! While I'm not sure of that, I could certainly use my lord's favor. So I left with the king's promise of a reward after he had subdued the region.
Cynfyn has been in Pictavia for some months now, trying to establish an alliance with these people.


The Pictavi are impressed by my story. Almost before I am done with the telling of it several leap forward and challenge me to competitions ranging from wrestling to archery to drinking. "Unfortunately I cannot," I tell them. "I was one of the 500 casualties we took, for 'tis hard to fend off cavalry without a spear, and I was wounded not long after I threw my spear." This satisfies them, and it is a good thing too, for it is true: A sword slashed down my arm, cutting my neck above my mail and my arm below it. Then High-King Drest of the Pictavi then introduces us to his family and court before leaving to deliberate with his council. They might not dress as gaudily as our nobles back home, and not nearly so much as the southern lords, but they have a sort of dignitas that seems common in noblemen wherever one travels.

Cynfyn turns to me "Thank you for your timely arrival brother. The talks have been going well but this may be the final push they need for an alliance. They are impressed by you and hearing of our king's success will likely seal the deal. Just don't do anything rash or stupid."

The Pict with us laughs at this. "I have yet to introduce myself," he says. I am Caltram of Fotla. "A pleasure," I reply.

Caltram smiles. "Indeed. Although let me tell you they are not sure what to think of your offer. We, ah, what is the word. Ah, yes, naturally We naturally distrust those to the south of us. Age-old habit, see. That's why I'm watching you."

I make a face. "What, are we that much of a threat?"

Caltram and my brother laugh at this. "It's more like they find us distasteful," my brother says.

The Pict nods at this. "Yes, which is why I am watching you. My father was high chief of the westerlund - about a third of the country. But he died this last year fighting the Gaels of Dal Riata. So they are debating whether or not to allow me to inherit. Pfaah! They think I am too young to inherit." He spits in the direction of the council.

Before either my brother or I can respond, the King approaches us again and one of the lesser chiefs beckons us to join them. Caltram remains at the table we had been sitting at, gazing maliciously at the man. But we have no time to think of that.

We are intoduced to the king's family: his wife, 3 sons, and 2 daughters. They have a wild look about them snd the eldest daughter, Braith challenges me to wrestle as soon as her parents and elder brother leave. I try to decline politely but she insists: "Certainly your injury is offset by the fact that I am younger and a woman." The Picts roar their approval immediately. I feel as though they may have planned this. Grudgingly I agree despite my brother urging me not to. We begin; she attacks my weakest points: my legs and my right arm, still weak from my injury. I manage to throw her off twice, thrice -
And look up into the stern face of the Pictish High King.
"I- uh, ahh..." I stammer
"I see you have met my daughter," he says. "Tell me, what do you think of her"
"Your family, lord... and yes her in particular... are... uh admirable."
She grins, and he glowers at me.
"Any man" I continue, "would count himself blessed to count them as friends."
THe king hesitates for a moment. "Diplomat."
"Yes." The entire room waits in silence to see what the king's word will be.
"You may tell your king," he pauses. The suspense is killing Cynfyn.

We wait anxiously, while his sons and court stare at us, and his daughters whisper to each other.
"That he shall have his alliance!" Again the Pictavi roartheir approval, and King Drest smiles.


Perhaps dissuaded from attacking us by our recent diplomatic and military success, the Angles attack the Concilleum in the rich hearlands of central Britain.




I return to Ebrauc but Cynfin remains in Pictavia to continue negotiations. The Pictavi are fierce, but they are fighting the men of both Dal Riata and Strath Clyde.


Upon my return, King Cuenu greets me and asks that I bring him to my home town. He claims he wants to see the environment that could breed a warrior such as myself. In the meantime his son Prince Mor is raising an army. I was right all those years ago: Cuenu means to push beyond the hills in the west of his domain.


As we ride, we discuss this new treaty with Pictavia. "Mayhap we will make a diplomat of you yet!" the king jests. He is in fine spirits. He has crushed an old northern enemy, gained 2 alliances, found a princess worthy of marrying his son and heir from Guened, and just had born a daughter.


We arrive at my home unannounced; this visit was a whim of the king. I go to bring out my family but then see my mother coming down the road from a market with some servants. I call to her to come over. When the king sees her his face pales.
"This is your mother?"
"Yes," I reply. "Her name is --"
"Agneis."
I am astonished. How could a king, albeit of a small kingdom, know my mother?
They stare at each other from some time. Then my mother loses consciousness.




"What you must understand, lad," the king, no my FATHER the king, is saying, "is that it was a wild time. We were under attack from the north, the west, and the south. The Goddoddin's cousins the Goutidani in the north, the wild Cumbrians to the west from over the hills, and the Aenlgisc to the south. Indeed, the Aenglisc still have a stronghold just south of us, watching warily for weakness."
We are inside my house now, my mother reclining on a couch. Despite my initial disbelief, they, who ought to be strangers, have no reason or real way to be playing a trick on me. And so I must accept it as the truth.
"I was leading an army against the northerners" Cuenu says. "In truth it was too small, but as my father was busy smashing the Aenglisc to the south, I raised what forces I could and marched north. The best I could hope to do was delay them. We stopped by your village-"
"Y Strafi"
"Yes, your village Y Strafi for supplies."
"You see," my mother adds now, having apparently regained her strength and composure, or at least some of it, "we did not think we would see each other again, or that either of us would survive the month and still be free. Only names were given. I just knew that he was a soldier, not a commoner, and on his way to die. I did not suspect that I lay with a high noble, let alone royalty. Everyone in those days expected these events to end with slavery, fire, and death."
"But they did not. Against all odds, all hope, I smashed the enemy. I praise God and the strong sword arms of the men of Ebrauc. We crushed the invasion. Killed the invaders' war chief, routed their host and slaughtered them. They came from the stronghold we took some months ago where you saved my life. We defeated them and made peace those 20 odd years ago."
"But you could not leave them be," I say.
"Aye."
We are silent for a time.
"What then is to become of me?" I ask.


In the next seconds I receive the second great shock of the afternoon. Cuenu looks around, then says, "I have a mind to adopt you." I am at a loss for words. "I have two sons and a daughter, but a man can never have too many good sons, especially in these hard times. You will not inherit the kingdom but your noble blood will be acknowledged. You have already proven yourself a fine man and warrior."
And thus in the year of our Lord 453 was my life changed. From a humble miles to a prince of the Ebrauc Kingdom in the Tin Isles.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

An update on the family: Prince Mor has wed the Princess Gwenwhyfar of Guened as Autumn gave way to winter, further cementing the alliance between our peoples. They say she is a lively girl; he says she is a handful. A sister, Ceinwin, was born in 452, just before I was adopted (December of 453).

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While the new year brings great festivities as it usually does, we also celebrate my adoption (save the Queen) and the royal wedding. The new year, however, is not all good news and festivities: more raiders arrive weekly on each of our coasts

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My father the King has welcomed me into the family enthusiastically, has has his youngest son Gwrest, an exited boy on the cusp on manhood, quick to emotion. I must confess I like him and have a soft spot for him. He reminds me of my younger brother Rhydarch in Y Strafi. Prince Mor has been polite and helpful yet disttant. I suspect I must prove myself to him. As for the Queen, well, she tolerates my presence. It is good enough for me. Little Ceinwin loves everyone.
My brothers that I have known my entire life are ecstatic. Cynfyn and I drank ourselves senseless upon his return to the capital. He and my friends from home show me a mocking deference which I find refreshing. I have taken several of them into the company of warriors raised to be my bodyguard.

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There have been a multitude of marriage proposals for me, from ambitious parents and amorous maidens. Branwerst, Bridei, Bellona, Bresit, Bannach... and those just the ones whose name begins with "B." As for myself, I have no desire to marry yet, and when Mor is drunk he is adamant that I should put it off as long as possible. I suspect his main problems come from his new responsibilities coupled with the cold of winter and the strain of managing and training an army. My elder brother Cynfyn already has a daughter and seems happy enough to me. " We need to find you an advantageous marriage" is his constant joke. I stopped seeing the humor in it long ago. He often suggests "that Pict girl who gave you a thrashing." If Gwenwhyfar is more than Mor can handle I doubt I will want some wildling from the north harassing me day in and day out.
"Find me a nice Dummonian girl," I urge him. "We both know how good the wine is in those lands of the sunset. You should go there and search. Did I mention that it's warmer there? And then theres the wine..."

[waveman]

This'll be it for a few days at least. Feel free to leave any criticism, suggestions, etc as this is my first aar

[waveman]

Chapter 2 Nobilitas

So, I lied and I'm going to post this quick update that will hint at things to come.

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Lucco of Bryneich.
Lucco sat on a hill overlooking the storm-tossed sea. More sea-wolves were braving the crossing. They had established a fortress at Lywn. Now it was called Cairlywn and held over 1000 Gaels and other opportunistic ravagers. Many, he knew from his walks behind the strong wooden walls, were fugitives from the endemic Irish wars, intent on finding softer lands to live in. Well. These lands were not as soft as they thought.


Lucco knew these lands well. His village had once stood not far from here, but that was before the Gaels had burned it.
Bastards.
But Lucco would have his revenge. He had sources from within those high walls. Sources who said that the defenders were ravaged by disease. They might only be "serving girls," but they knew what they saw. So Lucco would infiltrate the fort.
Crossing the wall in the storm was easy - no Gael wanted to man the ramparts in this weather. They lack discipline. The streets were largely empty. There are too few of them to hold these lands. Yet. He knew he had to get to the center of the town. He needed to find the leader of these sea-wolves or their storehouses. Then the Ebrauc Kingdom could come and cleanse these lands by fire and sword.
Lucco stopped by a large building and peered inside. They have food, but not enough. Unless their brethren bring more, they can't last a siege. I must report to Cuenu.
"Oi! Wha' err yeh doin' there?!?"
The gruff voice startles Lucco. Knowing the Gael is suspicious, he flings a pair of daggers at the man. One flies wide, the other finds his neck. It is enough: the Gael pitches sideways with a wet gurgle. Breaking into a run, Lucco dashes past the dying man. I don't have far to go. The gates are so close.


He only makes it a handful of steps. Sharp steel erupts from his stomach unleashing a torrent of blood.
At least I sent word already. At least.. they... know...... the fortress is weak.........


"They will come."
The Gael looks confused at these words, then walks off to a tavern; another body on the streets is no huge problem for these undisciplined sea-wolves.

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

This is interesting. I like the idea of the two half-brothers - one warrior and one diplomat - so you can tell the stories of the battles, but also of the negotiations. And I liked the way you told us Lucco's reason for being a spy. I'm looking forward to find out what Cuenu's response will be to the message Lucco managed to send.

[waveman]

Thanks! I actually worked out really well for me because both Cynfyn the diplomat and Dunawt have the title "of Y Strafi." Also, if you look at that last picture you can see Prince Mor on his way with an army......

[waveman]

So, I've recently re-read my posts and I've noticed some spelling errors and a few other mistakes. However, I have not made enough posts to be able to edit, so by way of apology I will add the next chapter (hopefully with fewer errors)

Edit: First edit has been done; I may have to change some names later to make it easier to read but for now the spelling mistakes are taken care of at least. Also added some content

[waveman]

The Gaels

Dunawt of Y Strafi

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The winter was uneventful. We trained, I learned, Mor came to terms with his wife. They went riding together, and this seemed to bridge the gap between them. In no time at all, Gwen was with child. Their son, called Gwallawg, was born this February. Not long after this joyous occasion Mor left to throw the Gaels to our west back into the sea. We received word from a spy of ours that the garrison was weak. Despite not hearing back from him, we decided that now was the opportune time to attack after several war councils. Mor has besieged them and judging from the tone of his dispatches is very confident. So the spy was right. If only he had lived to see this day. He seemed to have and unnatural hatred of the Gaels, from the few times I met with him.
As for my training, well my education is now focused primarily around military and political strategies than in my previous studies. I must confess I do not mind, and I relish every chance I get to improve my horsemanship.
Improvement on this skill is going to be very important, as traditionally our family has fought and commanded from horseback for centuries as part of the northern Roman, and then Romano-British, defense forces. For my bodyguard, a core of lethal heavy cavalry, I will be using mostly noblemen from estates near Caer Ebrauc. However, I have been able to pick some of my old comrades.
Macsen will be joining me, as will Fulvius. What the noblemen of Caer Ebrauc will think of him, or of me for that matter, is anyone's guess. Archanad Wledic will also be joining me; he, too hails from Y Strafi, and Caedrieith of Cernew. Two more prestigious nobles will also be joining us: Elidir of Dunuting and Cynfarch Sanctus. The first: noble, in every sense of the word. The second: a dour man, embittered by raids on his lands, but handy in a fight and very experienced. Aella the Angle will also be joining me, though God alone knows why he is here rather than in some warband ravaging the countryside. I shall have to ask him why.
[

Winter is a terrible time for war, they say. Immediately after the snows began to melt, we struck at Cairlywn. We must not be seen to be weak. Aiddan of Ystrad Clut strikes at a Gaelic fastness farther north while the Goddodin and Aenglisc hover on our borders, each with just under 1000 men.
As soon as he can, Mor attacks the stronghold of the Gaels. In his letter he described how he threw his ladders at the wall and so slaughtered the enemy's archers and pinned his infantry, thereby allowing his ram access to the gates. Once broken, the rest of his army rushed in.



A brief excerpt of his report reads thusly: "Once inside we faced a brutal fight in the streets. The Gaels asked for no quarter and gave no quarter."


Mor's greatest move was his use of cavalry. I was surprised when Father brought this up, but since Ceinnor returned with more horses we have begun raising some cavalry turmae. Some of these very men Mor sent around the enemy's flanks, through the STREETS no less, to surround the foe in his own home! My brother seems to have a great aptitude for command if this glorious victory is anything to judge him by. Our brother Gwrast is impatient to see battle himself, as am I. I have yet to test my mettle as a commander, and while I yearn for battle, I fear we may have much of that on our hands soon.


March, 454 AD

News of Mor's victory has inspired everyone. Despite these dark times their is a general air of hope and excitement for the days to come. Flush with this success, Cuenu bids me to complete the trainging of my men, for every day brings more heathens to our shores, and the northern tribes grow bolder.


As it is, I soon get my wish: I am sent to secure the southern passes while Father will travel to the north with a small force to dissuade the Goddodins from attacking us. I make for the mountain stronghold of Loidis, held by the hostile Bregaldones, and invest it, while brother Gwrast holds the capital. In truth he need do no such thing, it is just a job to make him feel useful.
It is a short march and takes less than two weeks. We were delayed at Cruch while obtaining provisions and waiting for a few hundred stragglers but I have a feeling I will need every miles I can get my hands on, for the Bregaldones are aware of my coming.


I waste no time in assaulting for our lands have been stripped of provisions with the raising of two field armies. Though many of my men are but levies and militia, the must eat as well and every day they serve is a day away from the fields. It is strange, but in my youth as I dreamed of wars with Cynfin and Fulvius, I never realized how much food an army consumes or how many rain-sodden hills it must trudge over. I order the rams forward, but to my great surprise the Bregaldones sally out! I counter, leading a charge and positioning my archers and skirmishers in such that they may engage the enemy Campwyr, fierce champions who could cut my army of at best semi-professional soldiers to ribbons if left unchecked. After a bloody day, charges and counter charges, we force our way into the settlement and cut down the defenders. They retreat into the streets and fight to the last man. While I respect their valiant efforts, many less lives could have been lost this day if they had recognized the futility of their situation.




We occupy the town, but when some of my men are ambushed in the streets at night, I unleash the army for a day. The looting that follows is brutal but short, and will teach these people to stay in line. After all, did not the great Chinggis Khan often terrify cities into surrender, thereby saving countless lives with a reputation for ruthlessness?
On a more practical note, we simply cannot survive a rebellion. The Pictavi are harried in the north and Guened struggles to reclaim her lands from Gaels and Concilium loyalists. The war between the Concilium and Regnum Britanniae has bogged down on the border of Dummonia.

The year ends, and in these dangerous times we must look always for allies. The King is looking for a way to halt the expansion of the Aenglii, ex-mercenaries of the Concilium, and has entered into talks with them about an alliance of sorts. My brother Cynfin has come to Loidis to try to come to a peaceful agreement with their council and settle grievances after the plundering before he moves on southward to the Anglii.
"He should not not trust the Aenglisc dogs," he says vehemently. I nod.
"Did they not turn on their masters and plunder their lands?" Again I nod.


One of my guards, Fulvius, joins in. "Those heathens are not to be trusted! I would only trust them if I was of their blood."
My brother nods. "He has a point. They set great stock in family." He gives me a pointed look.
"I do not wish to wed a pirate's daughter or some heathen savage."
He gives me a regretful look. "It may come to that, you know."
"Could that actually happen?" asks Caedrieith.
Cynfin and Elidir nod. "Political marriages are as older than Roma herself," my brother says.
"And," adds Elidir, "if these Anglii put such stock in blood ties, a marriage could be precisely what our kingdom needs. I do not know much of the Anglii, but I hear they are growing stronger."
We sit, silent, and consider his words.

Fulvius looks awkwardly between us. Finally he breaks several long minutes of awkward silence. "Wellllll," he says finally, drawing the word out, "there are always whores and servants of nobler stock than the Aenglisc!"
Cynfin forces a laugh, and I raise a toast, glad that Aella my Angle guard is inspecting our sentries. "To noble whores! Let us talk no more of these matters, and remember old times instead."
They agree. "On one condition," adds Meriadoc. "We must finish this wine."
I do not think we talked of this subject any more that night, but I cannot be sure.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

While that night was carefree, as this new year begins I find myself with many important duties. I am in the process of selecting new, loyal council members for Loidis when I receive some good news. My brother Gwrast is to be married! His bride will be the daughter of an influential man of the Bregaldones, the owners of Loidis. He owns much land to the west, and this union will help cement our claim on both Loidis and Cairlyw. I am happy for my younger brother; it was he who suggested the marriage after meeting the lass. Apparently father immediately accepted the idea, so Atia of Cardoban will join our growing family. However, this happy event is somewhat soured for me, as it is perfect example of a political marriage. First Mor, married to a princess of Guened, then Gwrast to cement our claims to our recently gained territory. Surely I will be next.

I suppose it is the price I pay for my great rise in station.


The ceremony is to be held as soon as possible, on the 15th of January. I depart on the 10th, leaving another of my trusted friends, Archanad and Elidir, as acting governors. They are good, reliable men but Elidir was wounded in our battle for the city by a javelin. He is to have my full authority as well as the protection of 3000 Ebrauc troops. I do not anticipate any trouble.




January 15th The wedding is a splendid affair. The snow lends it a surreal quality and the bride looks splendid surrounded by white snow. Fulvius, not so enamored by the event, mutters something about "bloody snow" and ale, then wanders off into the crowd. The man is truly predictable. I am overjoyed to see that my family has been invited to the event less Cynfin who is no doubt on a diplomatic mission. My mother is clearly bursting with pride, and Rhyddarch and our sister Julia are excited to see me again. I congratulate my brother Gwrast on his marriage and his beautiful wife. He flushes and mutters his thanks. I cannot help but wonder if the rushed nature of the marriage is in part because of a lack of discretion, but no matter. Later I see Mor; he claps me on the back and congratulates me on my victory and makes me promise to tell him the details of the battle later despite the fact that he must surely have read my reports. "A true telling is much better," he insists. I enjoy the feasting and dancing, especially the latter.






Later, after Mor and I have recounted tales of our battles to a rapt audience, we have a more private moment. "Bloody Gaels," he says. "Bloody stubborn fighters. And they had some northmen with them."

I am surprised by this, but it would seem some men from Ystrad Clut were fighting on the side of the Gaels. "Still, it makes sense," I muse. "Perhaps the Gaels were going to pledge themselves to Ystrad Clut, and we simply moved before they could do so."

Mor agrees with me, and we discuss the northerners for a short time, and then turn to more pleasant matters, such as some wedding guests' antics.



18th January All too soon I must depart. Cuenu's parting words ring in my ears: "Be ever watchful on the border." As I ride back to Loidis, I examine the countryside. It thrives. While our coffers may be almost running dry, our fields and villages are certainly rich. If Coel Hen founded this small country nestled in the hills, then Cuenu has certainly taken this to the next level and laid a strong foundation.
Upon my return to Loidis a sense of calm overtakes me. I quite like the look of this place when it is at peace. But peace is not to be had, at least not for me, for a messenger is waiting for me outside my quarters. "Lord, I have urgent news."
"Then come inside and be seated."
He came from Cynfyn who is not with the Aenglii, as I had suspected. King Wuffa remained open to diplomacy but would not consider slowing his expansion, personally leading an invasion to unite two Aenglii "colonies" and unleashing a warlord called Cyneweard northward with over 2500 men. Cuenu's prediction that he would be the most dangerous of the ex-foederati is proving to be correct.
The Pictavi are in trouble. The skirmishing with Dal Riata has come to and end for King Loarn of Dal Riata has invaded from the west and, with the noble Fiachnae, destroyed the army of Caltram of Fotla in battle. Caltram had been holding the border for some months. As yet no one seems to know if he has survived or if any of his men lived and King Drest is very worried.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

And so, the question of everyone's mind in March of the year 455 is this: will we go to war in the North? Will we strike beyond the Wall of Hadrian? Cuenu has called for a meeting to decide, and so I will be riding north again.

[waveman]

Chapter 2.5: De Paratis

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Pictavi, our allies to the north, are hard-pressed by the Gaels of Dal Riata and the men of Ystrad Clut. As such, King Cuenu has called a council of our kingdom's most powerful men to decide what we shall do.


"We cannot abandon them! They are our allies!" yells Gwrast.
"I know, son, but we must consider this carefully. We cannot simply leap into a war." At this rebuke from his father, Gwrast sits down and frowns.


"Let us analyze what we know," Cuenu says.
A member of his bodyguard, Bedwyr if I remember, steps forward. "The Pictavi are in grave danger. Caltram of Fotla and his forces are dead."
"But there are rumors of his survival," Fulvius interjects.
I have heard these rumours too. "They say he rallied many of his men at the end and was only wouned," I add.
"Be that as it may," Bedwyr continues, "it will be some time before Caltram can recover. If, that is, he is in fact alive. In any case, King Loarn presses onward into the Pictish heartlands withoug resistance.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

picture would not embed. See post below

"Furthermore, his son the Prince Fergus Mor is subjugating the western isles. Dal Riata's power is only growing."


Another guard stepps forward. "The Goddodin have been friendly of late. They have been posturing against Ystrad Clut, but nothing conclusive has happened as yet."


It is now Fulvius' turn to report: "The Anlgii do not yet have the strength to test us yet. They are invading the heartlands of the Concilium. The Concilium seem to have lost their influence in many of the central counties and are embroiled in the war with Regnum Brittonum. Furthermore, our allies in Guened have had some small success: a war-leader calledCadoc has had some success in subjugating the Estmonts (eastern mountains, of Wales), where many others have failed."

"And what of the Gaels?" Mor demands. There is silence until Bedwyr answers hesitantly.

"There is war in Hibernia, lord. More than that we cannot say, save that is seems to be fiercer than it has been for generations."

"It would seem to me," I say, "that Ystrad Clut is the weakpoint. Ystrad Clut is vulnerable. Striking now would improve our relations with the Pictavi and King Drest. Surely they would be most grateful for any aid. They could be a useful ally should the Goddodin attack us, and there is naught but incessant war up there in any case."


"Furthermore, expanding north puts us in position to attack Dal Riata and would give us more strength to draw from should the Aenglii attack us."
This analysis from my guard Macsen is unexpected yet welcome. People are surprised that he, a minor noble, has spoken, but once they are over their surprise, I can see the advisers slowly beginning to agree with him.


Cuenu slowly nods. "Yes..... yes. War it shall be. Begin the preparations!"


The reactions to this proclamation vary. Mor sits back with a content smile while brother Gwrast lets out a great whoop of excitement. I can see many of the other men smile at this; they, like I, are remembering a time before they had tested their mettle in the forge of battle. The oldest men watch stoically as the younger discuss the possibility of wealth and renown.




Late Spring, as training and preparations progress

On a more humorous note, it would appear that my suspicons regarding Gwrast's marriage were at least partly correct. Atia has given birth to a son, Ednyfed! The family seems happy and excited, although Mor and I ridicule the lad to no end. He sports a beard now that he has made it to manhood, and it is a great deal more impressive than any facial hair I could have displayed at his age. A great bushy red-brown it is, like the rest of his hair.


The Royal Family


In the year of our Lord 455, Gwrast and Atia have had a son christened Ednyfed, and all are in good health thanks be to God. I am approaching my 23rd summer, Gwrast on the verge on 17, and Mor 19. Mor's wife Gwenhwyfar is one year his junior, and their son Gwallawg is 1. Our father Cuenu is 42 years of age and his wife, Queen Efeilian, 38. Cuenu is still tall and strong and his wife still regal. The youngest of their children, Ceinwin, is but three. She is a funny child and does not understand our preparations for war, only that everyone is excited, and so she is as well.
Of the men in our family, Cuenu is the only one clean-shaven, although Mor and I have closely trimmed beards. However, Mor lets his hair grow long and free. I say it would make him hard to distinguish from his wife were he not so ugly and she so pretty.

[waveman]

Don't mind me rambling off-topic here, but I am enjoying the writing of this quite a lot; I used one of the few "study breaks" I'm allowing myself to have to post this last update. Alas for midterms

[waveman]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[waveman]

Sorry, was struggling to get the first pic on ch 2.5 to work, but here it is ^

Also, periodically I'm going back through my beginning posts to fix my spoiler-happy ways (in other words, I used spoilers a bit too much)

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

Don't mind me rambling off-topic here, but I am enjoying the writing of this quite a lot; I used one of the few "study breaks" I'm allowing myself to have to post this last update.

There are (many) people here who are far-better qualified to comment on this than I am, but it seems to me that if you're going to write an AAR, it's quite important to enjoy writing it. Otherwise, what's the point?

Well, now I think about it, obviously the point from where I'm sitting is that I'm enjoying reading it. But that's only a good reason for me to be reading it; it isn't a good reason for you to be writing it!

Alas for midterms

Good luck! (I hope that's an appropriate thing to say.)

[Roman Heritage]

Ok, I must say I first read some of this right after you began writing it down. All those gaelo-saxon names confused me to the point I stopped reading

Yet, I picked it up again yesterday and I suddenly found it far easier to read into. It's a rather enjoyable read, although there are some typos here and there and double posting which detract a bit from the overall good stuff you've written down. It is, however, going to be fixed - I'd assume - once you'll get the full membership (25 posts and one week on the Forum). Some screenshots are really, really nice, and I liked how you roleplayed the adoption as that of an illegitimate son, rather than that of an unknown grown man

I must also say I really like the topic, and the mod. The history of Britain between Rome's downfall to the Norman invasion is a pretty intriguing topic. The mod looks good, although there are some textures (expecially in buildings and walls) and images which clash a bit with the higher quality textures of the game. I must say, however, that it seems pretty solid, so I might pick it up some day and give it a try I wonder whether some similar total conversions have ever been realized about the Viking invasions of England. I'd love playing them.

Ultimately, keep up this work! There's a lot of good stuff here, it just needs some polishing here and there, but it doesn't change it's a good start. Glad you're enjoying writing it, too; it is the best thing in writing an AAR!

[waveman]

@Roman Heritage:
Hey thanks! But yeah, the 25 post limit and names are killing me too, as well as various other small (I hope!) errors. I'm probably going to change a nonessential name or three from the beginning and perhaps add more labels to the less important characters due to the confusion that you mentioned, but most of the names are actually from the game, and this is the origin of many of the errors (plus my inability to edit; I even went out of my way to read more AARs than I already am to give myself reason to post more). So, anyways, I'm playing more or less a decade ahead of these posts which at 6 turns/year means ~60 turns. Bring on the confusion, ect. But I like it, it allows me to add loads of back story, albeit in a (temporarily) messy way.

To combat the problems with the names I'm thinking of doing a character list. I was actually a little disappointed that my Romano-British faction didn't have more Latin names in its mix, but c'est la vie.
And as for the period, I love it. It is, I believe, a great mix of obscure history and semi-legend that allows for great liberties to be taken with the history. There are a few other similar mods I believe: one or two for the later Anglo-Saxon/Danish conflicts and perhaps a Norman conquest as well, but I have not played them.
And gracias for the constructive criticism

@ Callaigh
Thank you for the luck-wishing, I'm never against having a little more. Midterms are quite similar to some updates I'll be posting later.
IRL: study, hope that what you studied is on the test.
In-game (since I'm having the AI fight some of my battles): prepare army, hope to God that the general doesn't get my army slaughtered...lol.
But thanks for the input, glad you're enjoying it!

[waveman]

Second reply... getting closer to 25 posts... *cough cough*

Yeah, the wall textures aren't great, but from what I know of the period sieges were rough business on both sides what with Dark Ages logistics or lack thereof. Also, this mod is similar to some others in that the AI gets ludicrous amounts of extra cash, which I love. For example my kingdom of Ebrauc has around 5 counties I believe, and I can't field 2 full armies without losing boatloads of money. Meanwhile, the Saxons (Seaxna) have like 3 little villages and like 4-5 full stacks. Then there's the mainland which is just teeming with Franks and Romans and what have you...
I love it.
Which brings me back to sieges: if I can face an enemy in the field I will, because minimizing losses is quite important. And also I much prefer pitched battles to an endless succession of sieges.

And another thing I love about this mod is the change in dress per season. Its just a touch that adds that much more realism, and there are some mediocre examples of this in post #12. Most (read: nearly all) of the infantry I was using then were the "Miles", just standard soldiers. They're okay, they can hold the line and are much better than levies and militia, but they get shredded by elites. Anyways, during spring/summer/fall they are much more colorful and usually sport blue-gray tunics or armor. During the winter however most units are more gray with cloaks and furs and the like. It's just one more thing that I like.