The year is 1091. Emperor Heinrich has been waging a costly and deadly crusade against the Moors in an attempt to increase his Empire and dominate the matters in Europe. His empire, still in its budding form expands from Prague to the outskirts of France. Milan, having been crushed in the earlier part of his reign has disappeared, along with the Pope's gratitude for the Holy Roman Empire. However, with Granada recently captured by his loyal brave men, Heinrich seeks more victories to fulfil is ultimate goal of creating a borderless empire and sends off multidudes of generals to do his bidding. While the pope agrees on his decision, the Muslim states obviously do not adhere to his diplomats' demands and an all-out war escalates. In a vast plain of sand and wind, a young general scouts out the outskirts of a great Empire...
Ruprecht the Brave kicked the loose sand beneath his foot. "Barbarian land," he muttered as he looked around him. There was nothing. Nothing but barbarian sand, barbarian air and barbarian fog that clogged up his pure Germanic blood. "Another day in the desert. Fun fun fun." he thought to himself as the light fog engulfed his small band of brothers and mercenaries. The desert was a harsh place and Ruprecht could not understand what was the point of seizing lands where crops could not grow and animals could not survive, yet he was totally willing to fulfil his Kaiser's orders and the Reich's destiny and set up camp for the day. He remembered his dear wife back in Vienna and remembered the life he had left for this patch of sand. "At least there are no assassins and inquisitors" he sighed rubbing over one of his scars on his arm, a reminder of the dangerous life back in Europe. All was quiet, all was still. Just another day in the outskirts of an Empire...
The placid sand, the light fog was suddenly shattered by a crazed man, running up to him. "My liege, they've come" he screamed in desperation. "What the Moors again?" Ruprecht grunted, remembering his foe in the recent crusade to Granada. Remebering the foes who had denied the Empire the Godly right to settle in these lands. Remebering the barbaric people who inhaled this barbaric air, lived on this barbaric sand and fought on this barbaric land. "Yes sir. And they've come with a great force outmubering us 4:1! We're doomed! May God help us my liege" Ruprecht would have liked to kick the man at that moment but realised in the far distant something was coming. Something. A horde of Moors made its way towards his small band.
The fog parts away as the horde of Moors arrives
"To the battle lines!" he shouted. To himself he muttered "What battle lines...With only 170 men what can I do." He was trapped between a slight valley. His men were tired from all the marching. They missed their homes, their wives, their lives. But he didn't say that out loud. He was called brave for a reason. He continued, "We will take down this horde by force, for the Reich and for God himself" His army awaited the onslaught, putting all faith on their beloved general who was accustomed to vanquishing his foe in the most cruel and accute manner.
Ruprecht inspires his wavering troops who were averted from preparing for the worst
And then it happened. The first wave of the Moors charged screaming their war chants as they trod heavily on the enveloping sand. Doing what he did best, Ruprecht the Brave charged head on straight at the enemy leaving his army awe struck at a deed that would certainly lead to their doom. Their blood boiled and they rushed after him at the enemy hoping they could reach the chivalric general before it was too late. Time stopped. The Moorish peasants and spearmen charged and Ruprecht's men felt the full brunt of it.
His men enter the bloody foray, in an attempt to cleanse the unclean
"TO THE LAST MAN!" some of his men shouted. Others just died. They were to busy dying, fighting, surviving to worry about their general. Not that they needed to. The brave general managed to survive the first charge, slaying hundreds of his foe in an instant second of death. "May God be on our side" he thought to himself as he hacked off an enemy's arm.
His men were slowly withering down and he knew it. He needed a break in the battle lines. In the distance he saw the enemy captain. "Another unexperienced captain I suppose." he thought to himself. "CHARGE! he commanded what was left of his body guard. "Take that fool down!"
A valiant charge crushes the enemy's attempts of fleeing
He charged at the enemy full force, as fast as he could with the remaining strength he had. His army had all but fallen. The wounded and dead lay together, rotting on the dry sand. But that didn't matter. At least not to him. He smashed right through the enemy's lines once again and reached the captain. If he were to fall in battle, this is what Ruprecht would have wanted. But this day would not be his last. The enemy captain, in desperate search for an escape attempted to flee but to no avail. In a few minutes it was over, the Moorish captain was slain and Ruprecht had survived.....Except for the fact that 200 men of the enemy were still alive and ready to avenge their captain's death.
Another victorious charge which changes the course of the battle
Rather than taking the opportunity to flee the battlefield and survive death, Ruprecht against his better judgement stayed and prepared himself to avenge the deaths of so many of his brethren. His 12 men stood ready... "CHARGE!"
Devestation amounts for the Moorish flanks as Ruprecht displays the power of the Reich and God
[LEFT]In a single devastating charge the first squad was annihilated even before the main bloody combat could commence. But Ruprecht would have none of it charging right into the next squad of a hundred spear men, brandishing his blood-stricken sword at his hated enemy. At last with a final swipe of his sword, the scarred general put his foe to flight, cursing at them as they fled "Come back cowards! The Reich has not finished with you yet!"
What remained of both sides on that day was clearly shown on the blood soaked sand in the battlefield. Most of Ruprecht's army was dead and only 30 of his men were alive, some of which were lucky to have been cured of their heavy wounds in battle. Ruprecht dismounted his horse and sighed. "Another day on the outskirts of the Empire..."
The bloody soaked sand is cloaked by the arid dry wind and fog
Wow...that took long. This was my first AAR so advice, criticism etc would be helpful! Thanks! (Suprisingly I got an *Average* victory for this but never mind)