[M2TW AAR] Son's Of Scotland

[Dmongooze]

Most of the prologue is written in the first 20 turns.

I will be playing Scotland.
Goals: Show the world just how civilized Scotland can be.
Vanilla - On very hard/ very hard. (I don't play often so this will be a first for me )
The first few chapters will be heavy on story before lightening up as the empire expands. Simply too many characters once it gets too large to cover everyone.

-Very historically inaccurate everything from people, places and clans will be fiction. Some mainstream characters that most factions start out with will be misnamed.
-Hope you enjoy.

[Dmongooze]

Chapter 1 - The Clans.

Location - Edinburgh, United clans celebration,
The beginning of King Malcolm's reign.

He wiped the ink from his fingers. It was signed. After much feuding between the clans, Scotland had become an official state recognized by Pope Gregory himself. The clans remained to some extent but united under one banner they had rebuked England's claim to their lands. Who had for years pillaged their ancestral territories in the name of "protection" from would be Normandy invaders who had now been absent for nearly a decade.

He laid back his wooden chair, it creaked with the age only the tree that was used in its making would know. His councilmen tried to convince him a throne was more befitting as King of the Scots but Malcolm only chuckled with response, "A throne proclaims I am a great man. Those who dine and sit below me are some how lesser then I. To look stern with thought and sing sage advise with 'kingly' wisdom. Nay lads, I am no sage and the only wisdom you might find worth is given after a night of too much drinkin'. I am only a man and this chair suits my bones just fine."

So he sat amongst his clansmen as they mumbled about tactics. Who were huddled over a map currently. Running their fingers along winding trails scrawled into the worn cloth.

To the North the castle Inverness stood defiant. Clan MacGregor had taken up residence and refused fealty to the united Clans and the Crown that had been born from it. Malcolm's younger brother Edmund had left north with a host only a month before the Crowning of the king.

"Your brother is being called Edmund the Chivalrous by the peasants at Inverness my lord." Councilmen MacTavish reported, grinning happily as he stared down at the map. His plump tipped finger circling the castles location.

It was no surprise to the King his step brother was much loved by his people especially at Inverness. It was after all his birthplace. The peasants were close to revolt under the occupation of the MacGregor clan who had led raids into the area for countless years before mustering their strength and stealing into the city at night to slit the throats of the chieftain and his family.

That was two years ago. They had since grown fat and lazy living off the land and sewing back into it nothing back but rape and murder.

"Even with the peasants help at the gate. His forces met bloody resistance my King. The messenger reports the fighting began with a night assault on the city which lasted into dawn. Our Highlanders took heavy losses and the MacGregors were all but exterminated, they fought to the last. Edmund reports his forces are now in control and the Keep is ours."

"And what of my son? What of Edward?" The kings eyes met the council with honest curiosity.

They had heard nothing for two days. Not since his army had began the siege of York.Edward had left the uniting of clans and the celebrations that erupted afterwards to march on York the day before. Most of Edwards men were still trickling down to join him from Edinburgh. Slow in march from the joyful festivities from the previous days and no wish to wash away the alcoholic stupor with blood and blade.

(OOC: I had sent Edmund up with the majority of my starting army to capture Inverness while sending Edward south to lay siege to York. Which according to the estimates would only last 2 turns.

Inverness fell quickly when my spy was able to open the gates. The invading army consisted of 5 groups of archers, one squad of spearman and one squad of highlanders, who took the heaviest losses, they were reduced to a mere 12 men. The spear men knocked down to about 24. While the archers came through the battle untouched and my 2 groups of boarder cavalry barely recalled being in a fight to begin with.

During the next turn I had sent a diplomat to England's princess who was near Nottingham at the time. She rebuked my marriage proposal, alliance and trade offers. Not once but twice. Even after sweetening the deal with maps, taking away the alliance offer and adding florins instead. I don't blame the princess at all however the Diplomat was a sore sight. His traits actually had him at 0 influence and im sure if the state system allowed, it would be in the negative.

I'm surprised England didn't declare war on me from merely talking to that oaf.)

- On that note the next chapter recounts the fabled meeting between the Diddly dumb Diplomat of Fork rivers and Ceclia the snake tongued princess of England.

[Dmongooze]

Location - Small encampment East of Nottingham Castle


Patrick McDougull fussed tirelessly with his long brimmed hat. "Quick, quick! How do I look?"

His assistant took a long look then leaned close and picked a piece of sticky honeyed bread from Patrick's thick black, but well trimmed, beard. "Te're you are. Fresh as a daisy."

"Bah! Off with you! here they come." McDougull flailed his arms wildly as if his fingers had tiny whips attached them, shoo'ing the young woman away. "My lords." He bowed low, nearly too low, stumbling slightly as he straightened.

"May I introduce, Princess Celia, daughter of William the bloody, King of England." A man clad in plate stepped aside pulling the curtains of McDougulls tent wide, allowing the Princess to walk through her head bowed slightly clearing the point of her elaborately embroidered hat past the cloth entrance.

"Ehem!" A bit of spittle was sent flying landing flat against the princesses milky white cheek."My lady. It brings us great fortunity..uh fortuni..l..ia...happiness! to be able to offer England an era of peace between our two people and the King of Scots bears your lands no ill will..."

"King of Scots..." She rolled the title with her tongue and gave a wry face as if the very words seemed bitter. It was after all knew to most of the world that the Scots had declared themselves independent let alone having a king. Which implied royalty. Royal blood from beasts? Laughable. "Ill will." The princess inclined her head, her cheeks blushing red, the diplomat has assumed her as the bashful woman type. Not suited for the business of men.How mistaken he was, he had no idea.

"Aye my lady. No ill will!" Patrick smiled happily, blissfully ignorant of the Princesses stare which could have cut diamonds like ripe peaches. "I even come on behest of the King to offer trade! Our um.." Patrick turned and fiddled through some parchments "Maps of our new boarders! And on this momentous occasion..." The diplomat leaned close cupping his hands as he whispered to the princess "A marriage proposal to the heir of scotland Edward Canmore."

"Why, thank you Mr. McDunghill." Her fists clenched the front of her dress, white knuckled.

"Mc.Doo-gill, Doooo-gill, my lady." He corrected, unaware of the thick overtone of sarcasm in the young woman's voice.

"Mr. McDunghill, peace with scotland has always been a priority in my fathers eyes. Maybe not in the terms of your peace but it would be peace none the less. We once preserved the peace over your lands remember? Having said that we know your boarders and have no desire to take your...ideas about where your boarders may lay."

The Princess took a moment to compose herself and let her chest exhale the air she had unknowingly been holding. "My ladies tell me you had a family once? Two daughters, twins they say, nearing eight and ten seasons old?"

"Aye..." Patrick's eyes lowered, his face crinkled as his eyes welled quickly at their memory.His family had been dead closing four seasons now. The called it the massacre of Fork rivers. A small fishing port south of Edinburgh. The English had claimed they were tracking a band of highwaymen and their trail led to the river village. Its rumored a single soldier stepped into the town center and shouted, 'We know your hiding them and we wont have it. We will have them or bury the lot ov yah.'

Then, that was only a rumor. No one from the village was found living. Including Patrick's daughters who he found together, stripped naked, their flesh cut and bloated, floating against the side of the river bank.

He had found their two fishing poles yards away. One was snapped in two, the other still had its hook bobbing in the water. He had cut the branches from a willow tree that stood next to their home not two days before. He had to leave to attend the uniting of clans, one of several, gathering that took place over the years. His children always seemed easier to leave when he left behind gifts for them. They were children. Only children fishing on the side of the river. The memories sent several solemn tears down the chubby mans cheeks, which were quickly drank up by his black beard.

"Killed for traitors."The princess hissed. "Now the father, who's home town associated with criminals, stands before me. To say they bare no ill will? Those bandits had slit the throats of husbands, fathers, brothers and son's. They spilt english blood over your mud encrusted pig pen of a land. Men who's only duty was to protect your people and preserve the peace. Yes my dear Mc.Doooooooo-gal England knows of your peoples renown for peace. We've experienced it first hand"

"Madam I-" Patrick's voice curdled, his presence cowering back near his assistant like a frightened boy running behind the legs of his mother.

"Silence your greasy tongue, swine. I came here under the pretense your people had become...civilized." Her tongue flicked her front teeth, spitting the words at him. That maybe the stories I had heard since a child were false. That your people were not mindless barbarians, but simply needed a helping hand out of your primordial muck." Ceclia turned on her heels and stormed from the the tent. Stopping just outside she turned to look over her shoulder. "I was wrong. You people are still barbarians and if, Edward heir of Scotland, needs a wife tie a ribbon around a sheep and send it to his doorstep. I hear your people are fond of them."

(Having been refused so rudely from England I sent my one and only Cog south west bearing my only merchant and a second diplomat. The goal, to avoid any rebel pirates and reach Spain and Portugal to find my Heir a wife and begin relations with possible allies.

They made it. And began the talks with a princess of spain within the audience chamber of Portugal in the city of Pamplona. However both attempts at an alliance, trade and maps were declined. The Spanish princess wasn't interested in marriage with a Scot either.

Next Chapters: Malcolm's reaction to how his emissary was received by the English.

We are Civilized. - A kings response to England.
The meeting: Sons of Sea and Horse. (This takes place slightly before 'A kings response' but plays out over and after the events that occur in the previous chapter.).

[Dmongooze]

Location: Edinburgh

We are Civilized.

"Are we not...?" King Malcolm had reached out to the Kingdoms of Europe in friendship and honest peace. He wanted to bring an era of prosperity to his people. To let them know calm in what had been a chaotic worn torn country. He wanted peace. But they laugh at us. Ignore and mistreat us at their courts. Spit venomous whispers behind our backs.

Malcolm's sorrow filled heart beat dully. His heavy set eyes met Margaret's, his beloved wife of many seasons. He couldn't remember the time before she was his. In his mind that time never existed. She was forever at his side in court, his better half he admitted.

"Perhaps. The cloth of our clothes aren't as fine or as soft as the silks of Spain. Our men know not the sea like the sailors and vast fleets of Portugal. Our cities are humble and young, while England's London stretches across the land its age has known many ages and many kings. Does that make us barbarians? In they're eyes, perhaps it does." Her slender arms found themselves entwined around his shoulders and broad chest, whispering into his worried ear.

"But if barbarians love as fiercely their people as you, then so be it. Let them see a barbarian. Your people will still see a King."

Malcolm nodded his head lightly, the pain in his heart lifted somewhat with her consoling words, "A better Queen there is none."

Margaret Smiled and left the council chambers, leaving her husband with his captains and generals. The King stood sword hilt in hand. Nodding to himself in silent decision. His men looked to him for an answer.

[Dmongooze]

Location - The Siege of York.
Prince Edward commanding the sieging forces.

Prince Edward flung back his tent in a brisk walk, his guards snapped to attention instinctively, "Lift the siege! We march."

"Sire? York is ready to fall. You would have us surrender it this close to victory? Where would be go?"One of his captains whirled his horse around to maintain control in the sudden bustle of commotion. A glorious orchestra of orders being shouted and carried out. Like a pebble dropped into a puddle it had a rippling effect throughout the ranks.

"South." The Prince's grand tent suddenly came crumpling down with a puff of dirt and spatter of mud. His squires heaved and tugged, moving the support columns out of the way as they rolled up the heavy leathers and furs that had been sewn together for the tent canopy.

"Sire?" The captain questioned knowing full well the English boarder lay to the south.

"To Nottingham." The Prince dug his heels into his horse and set off down the ranks, his bodyguards trailed behind in close pursuit.

(Pictures coming soon. The reason for the current lack of them is because I hadn't decided to make the game I'm currently playing into an AAR but during the game the story started to become to good to pass up. The pics will begin after the battle of Nottingham. )

[Dmongooze]

Location - Castle Nottingham, under command of Prince Rufus, Heir to England.

"My Lord." A short figure clad in black, his cloak a dull mud covered brown, bowed only slightly in the presence of the Prince. His eyes fixed on the royally dressed Rufus, who bore the gold and crimson of his house.

"Speak. Master of spies what have your scouts found?"

"Scotland marches through your lands sire. They've lifted their siege at York and have moved hastily through the mountains westward. They sha'll be arriving in roughly twenty days." The man's face was thick with stubble providing a gauntlet for the stream of sweat that had been running down his face. His eyes were sunken and swollen from lack of rest. He had ridden hard back to Nottingham to give warning.

The Prince's eyebrow twitched with irritation. "Their numbers?"

"Five and fifty to possibly six hundred at least my liege. Four groups of cavalry but mostly archers."

The Prince scoffed at that. Archers? "You give those beasts too much credit. Their fingers are too fat to wield bows. They'll likely throw rocks instead."

"My lord, they do have cavalry. More then we have known they could muster."

"True. But sticking a peasant on a horse does not make them a knight. Send word to my father and gather the army. When they emerge from the forests of Nottingham we will be ready and waiting." The Prince reclined and plucked a grape from his dining table. When those sheep lovers arrive his host will have been mustered and those cavalry will be no match for his spears. "Let them come."

(I had one turn left before York would fall and my men would have taken the small town. However I chose to leave it. I didn't have the men to spare and leaving a small garrison even a few troops were too many. My treasury at this point was quickly dwindling Edinburgh was supporting two armies, one stationed at Inverness - which was currently retraining most of its units.

The other was now marching south to declare war on England. Edinburgh was also training spear militia that were going to be sent north to garrison the new castle. After retraining I had plans to bring them south to join my new war.)

[ToroCici]

All I can say ... IMPRESIVE start. Bookmarked and subsribed

[Dmongooze]

Cheers mate, much appreciated, I didn't know if anyone was reading or enjoying it hehe.

[Dmongooze]

Location: London
Commanded by William the Conquerer, King of England.

"HOW! Explain to me how I have this Scottish rabble on my doorstep." The king had a lobster plated fist wrapped around the man's neck. His face beaten and bloodied already, Captain Henderson of the 3rd brigade of spearmen had barely made it back to the capital alive. "Tell me how before I have your head placed on a pike on my city walls." The captains teeth were clenched shut, spittle mixed with blood dripped over his bottom lip. The King released his grip and flung the man backwards.

The captain doubled over, choking and coughing, sucking air into his chest. "We..we..we had been w-waiting." The man leaned on his knees as he spoke still trying to catch his breath. A drip of steady blood drained from his nose to the floor. "Prince Rufus has...had," He corrected himself, "gathered a massive host in preparation of the Scots arrival."

"This I know! A King knows where his soldiers are being sent. I sent my entire garrison north to join my sons host. Think carefully of your next words..." The Kings steeled glove crinkled with the sound of metal on metal as he clenched the hilt of his sword.

"I..I don't know..." The man began to sob. "We out numbered their forces two to one. Our host was over thousand spears strong. It began so simply. Their archers emerged from the tree line with only a single battalion of light infantry mixed with spears to protect them. They were mad, screaming and shouting like savages. Reports said they had cavalry on their way south but our scouts didn't spot any on the field.

So... Prince Rufus ordered the charge, a vanguard of mounted knights along with his own were the first into the Scottish lines. Tha..thats when it went bad." Captain Henderson slunk to the floor his face a wash of blood, dirt and tears.

"What happened." The King asked a final time. His mood began to change as he felt a sickening pull from the pit of his stomach. He stared down at the crippled soldier.

"We didn't know where they had come from at first. We only heard the screams, everyone was screaming. Splintering wood and the screech of steel and the flash of blade reflecting off the morning sun. After that there was only panic. Men were running in every direction. I tried to have my men stand ground but... I barely remember it. I ran milord. I ran as fast as I could." Henderson looked up meekly his face bent in shame. "I'm so sorry...please forg-"

"Throw him over the walls! Make sure to break his legs first. I won't have cowards in my army." The king spat onto the weeping soldier and stormed out of the room. The captains weak whispered pleas echoed softly through the halls behind him.

[Dmongooze]

"How can we stand against so much hate? So much indiscriminate rage? The survivors are incoherent they try to bolt and run at the slightest noise. They sit, rocking back and forth with their hands cupping their heads trying to block out the howling, they say. Howling that isn't there anymore. The stories are spreading even among your knights sire. They fight as if possessed by some blood lust, a pack of snarling beasts, they are no mortal men."

"Enough." King William's back hand was swift knocking the Knight off balance, who stumbled to regain it against the solid stone of wall. William hefted himself up onto his horse, no squire was there to assist him. He had fled along with most of the peasants into their homes and barred the doors.

William the Conquerer they called me, he thought to himself as he heard London's solid gates crack. The sound carried through the city like a clap of thunder. Would they still call me that after today, he wondered. Would they remember me as the man who liberated the Isles from the vikings of Normandy only to clear the way for the barbarians of Scotland? His horse whinnied nervously, as the furious roar grew louder. He could see the Scottish horde now as they barreled down the streets toward the city center. Louder they grew. Closer they came. He could feel the very cobble stones below his horse tremble and shake and then, suddenly there was silence, as the highlander's spilled into the square surrounding the King and his royal body guard.

They began chanting. A single word he couldn't understand it. Over and over they yelled it, beating their shields, axes and swords together in unison. Until finally their lines opened up and a single man on horse back came trotting forward. Royalty the King knew immediately. He bore the sigil and coat of arms of his house and his countries dark blue colors.

"William..the Conquered. I've come for your head." The man slid his steel helmet off, it had intricate celtic drawings carved into the steel, a snarling dog.

"Ah the Mad Dog. Your master let you off the leash did he?" The King scowled. Edward was simply grinning in response, it seemed he liked being referred to as the mad dog.

"Your people will all die here today, Sir. None of your men will be spared and I will put your small folk to the sword and hang their heads from my new walls. This will be payment for the atrocities you forced upon my people for so long. Now hold your tongue until I make you scream for mercy!" Edwards sword came from his sheath with a flash, his men erupted forward with him. A great wave of hatred, blood and blade washed over the English in an instant.

It was over within seconds. The English King lived up to his bloody reputation falling many of Edwards men before the two clashed with each other. Both drawing each others blood as they traded blows. But the King had no time his men were swarmed and his horse was suddenly cut from beneath him. The King was beaten beneath fist and boot before being dragged up from beneath the sea of foaming soldiers. His bloodied head was yanked back. His face dripped crimson, one eye was already swollen shut and his nose and mouth oozed a constant flow of dark rich blood, peppered with broken teeth.

But as his world came back to focus through the one eye that was still of use to him. He could see who it was staring down at him. The steel face of a snarling hound.

"Did you know, after I crippled your army at Nottingham, my farther received word from the Pope personally? He asked that we cease hostilities with the English and make pause for peace. Do you know what my father wrote to me afterwards?" Prince Edward bent over his steel helm a mere inch from the bloodied King. "If the pope loves the English so much then we will send him whatever remains."

[Nole4694]

NOT ENOUGH PICS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! good AAR

[ToroCici]

Your story telling is excellent. Adding the pics will make this AAR a super exellent one

[Dmongooze]

Location: Nottingham
Commanded by Prince Rufus, Heir to England. (Yet to be Crowned.)


"God be good to us...this was not enough time." The Prince stood overlooking the lands beyond his castle walls. Dark blue banners were approaching. The standards of King Malcolm himself was present along with one he was not familiar with but by design would represent one of his sons, which one he did not know.

"Brother your sending me away? You cannot! I will not!" Henry wiped a tear from swollen red eyes as he lunged at his brother, his fists clutching Rufu's tunic.

"You must! I do not know if we can hold the walls. Father is dead Henry. He is gone." The words echoed in his chest almost crushing his heart with sorrow when spoken. "They've taken London. The messenger came this morning he said they...they killed everyone. No women or child was spared. They are killing everyone. You will not be spared if they find you here and I will not have them harm you. Not you my little brother." Rufus pulled his siblings hands from his chest and hugged him tightly. "Now go. My men will take you to the harbor a ship is waiting to take you to the mainland."

"Come with me. You do not have to stay we can all go to the ships. We can all leave." Henry wasn't bothering to wipe the tears away anymore.
"They would notice and fall upon us like wolves if we tried to leave with such numbers. You must leave. Take him." Rufus released his brother as his guards took the young prince. "Wait. Take this, when you reach Caen. Give it to our uncle. Let him know it was my last command of him." Prince Rufus's hand was trembling when he passed the parchment to his younger brother. Try as he might he could not steady it.

Prince Rufus took spear in hand as he turned away and marched down from the wall with what remained of his men. It had only been a month when word first came from London. After fleeing back to the castle, during the Battle of Tall Pines, Rufus had thanked the gods when the Scottish army did not pursue but instead retreated from the field of battle. He figured his father had mobilized another army and had marched in from the south to aid him. He was wrong.

The messenger was the only survivor, he was bloodied but bore no wounds. Monsters, Rufus had thought, the Scots spared no one. After the death of King William, the messenger said the Scottish army went about exterminating the peasants: soldiers, men, women or children, none were spared the sword..

Apparently a spy had sent word to the Scotts after the battle of Tall Pines saying London was defenseless. They're garrison having gone to Nottingham to join the host Rufus had mustered. Thats why the Scottish army had turned away from Nottingham.

I should have died with my men that day, Rufus thought solemnly. His leathered fist tightened around the spear he was clutching. I will rectify that mistake this day. "Men." His voice cracked weakly at first, "Men, this day we stand. London has fallen. But you may not. Many have us have fought and many more have died. But you! may! Not! We will not fall! We will stand and we will be the rock that breaks this barbarian wave!" The Prince's spear thrust upwards and his men roared with him in defiance.

"Today will be the day tha...that.." Prince Rufus's voice trailed off as he watched the City gates in front of him slowly begin to open. A guardsmen came stumbling from the gatehouse falling flat onto his belly revealing a dagger sunk squarely between his shoulders. "Please God no..."

A familiar looking man stepped forward from the shadows of the gatehouse and shouted, "Sorry to interrupt Sire. But My King has urgent business with you and I dare not keep him waiting." The City gates came to metallic jolt as they were raised entirely. The man grinned widely, with the sound of charging Scottish Cavalry already approaching the gate...

Rufu's eyes widened as he recognized the second figure that emerged from the gatehouse. It was the messenger that escaped from London. The Princes mouth stretched in horror, "NO!!!!"

(OOC: I took the remaining forces I had retrained and stationed at Inverness south with the King toward Nottingham. They took York in only a few turns the rebels didn't even bother to fight once the siege was over. I joined King Malcolm with his son who had come of Age as he was stationed briefly at York for just one turn. His son bore the trait "dislikes the English" something I would make great use of before I finished my campaign to retake the island.

I used the same spy that had discovered London was only garrisoned by the King and moved him up to nottingham. He expertly opened the gates for my men who took the city.

On another note, theres only like 2 more chapters before the intro is finished and the pictures begin to poor in as the actual campaign begins. Hopefully that will be more pleasing to the eye and not a wall of text )

[Dmongooze]

Location: Nottingham
Under command of King Malcolm of Scotland.

"It suits you." David Canmore grinned widely having spotted his father trying out Prince Rufus's throne in the middle of the grand hall. It was an elaborate chair of heavy black oak. Ornately carved with red velvet sewn into the seat and arm rests, both of which, having been padded with wool.

"Bah, I dunna need one of these. Was just curious." King Malcolm stood looking back at it at the chair hesitantly, "my uh...old one suits just fine."

"Then we should send for it if your going to be staying here for any amount of time."

"Nay, I wouldn't bother em for an ole chair. I'll uh, just use this one in the meantime."

"Of course father." David tried to hide his amusement but failed miserably. "My Captains have reported the city secured the small folk aren't resisting. Apparently Edwards deeds at London precede him and they do not wish the same to happen here."

"Not surprised." The Kings eyebrow furrowed his older son always had a ruthless edge to him. The massacre at London wasn't ordered but rather, Edward had slaughtered the population in his blood lust. "What of the Prince?"

"Depends on how you look at it I suppose. Prince Rufus's body was found stripped, most likely picked clean by the peasants for valuables. It's believed he was trampled and killed at the gates along with most of his men. Prince Henry however, Rufus's younger brother, is still alive.

"Still alive?" The king asked curiously.

"Protected by a handful of knights in an old tower. They were trying to escape the city toward the harbor. Our men cut them off and they have been held up in the tower ever since. Sha'll I order the attack?" David already had a battalion of troops positioned and ready to storm the castle, they were simply waiting on his word.

The King let out a long sigh and crossed his arms. This had been a bloody war and his people had come out on top. London and Nottingham had fallen. The English have been pushed from the island. Barbarians we are not. There was no more need for bloodshed. "No, let him leave."

"Father! You cannot be ser-"

"Silence your tongue!" King Malcolms fist came trashing down onto the dining hall's table with a resounding boom. Like a slumbering bear, his council often referred to the warm hearted King. Who was hard to slight and easy to forgive those in his presence. But when those few who woke the bear, his roar was a furious one. "I will not let our people be portrayed as monsters who kill children. London was Edwards doing. I will not have needless bloodshed in my presence. Release him! I will not repeat myself again."
David bowed under the heated glare of his father, returning the stare defiantly before turning around and walking out of the massive hall. Few men could say they traded stares with King Malcolm and lived to tell about it. Edward was one and the other was David. The King sighed heavily again.

Edward had always had a lust for bloodshed. His soul burned for the call of battle. To swing a sword came like the breathing of air to him. David however was starting to resemble his older brother more and more. They're blood, it seemed was boiled in the same pot.

[ToroCici]

[Dmongooze]

Thirty minutes outside the walls of Nottingham.
Two units of light cavalry accompanied by one group of mailed knights lead by David Canmore.

"How long?" David Canmore shouted, over the sound of thundering hoofs. His group of cavalry had been hard pressed to catch up to them.

"There!" One of his knights to his left shouted. Pointing to several red banners, topped with white, not far ahead of them.

A devilish grin spread over David's lips as he leaned low and dug his heels into his steed.

***

Cold steel bit into the knights neck causing a hazy spray of red. The blade was pulled back quickly and then driven forward a second time. This time finding home into the same knights chest. His body slumped backwards, limp, sliding himself off the red stained blade before hitting the ground with a thud.

"Save the Prince. Get to the Bo- hurk!" A spear was sent hissing through the air to plunge into the English knights back, protruding through his chest. He clutched the slick bloody tip in disbelief, teeth clenched in agony, he too fell from his mount.

The rest of the English knights were quickly dispatched leaving Prince Henry surrounded. The young boys sword was out. He was clutching it with both hands. Trying to keep trembling fingers from dropping the blade. The Scottish troops sat still, mounted on their horses, staring coldly at him.

What were they waiting for? Why haven't they killed me? Henry's eyes began to well up with tears. His lips held firm together to choke back a sob, and another, and another before finally one escaped. He bit down on his tongue in an effort to stop. You are shaming yourself, he thought. His body shook quietly with each smothered cry.

"Are you crying?" A man spoke up, his horse trotting forward from the surrounding Scots.

Henry quickly wiped a tear from his misted eyes. Squinting, he tried to make out the speakers age. The man couldn't have been a year or two older then himself. Henry tried to respond with a 'No', but his throat had gone dry with fear during the battle.

"A noble born without a tongue, how rare. Tell me Prince, do you weep for your men or for your own life?"

Henry blinked, a fresh set of tears raced down his cheeks. "W-w-wuh," His voice choked with each sob, 'Why did you kill them?', he wanted to say. But he couldn't stop crying. His hands clenched his sword hilt tightly in frustration.

"W-w-would you repeat yourself?" David Canmore laughed mockingly and kicked his horse forward. His blade was drawn and covered in blood, he even had some of it on his face, Henry noted sickly.

"You gave us leave to the b-buh-boats. He said we were free to go to the harbor. We were only going to the boats. We were almost there..."

"I gave you leave? Lads, Do you remember me giving any such order? No, no they don't. Because it was my Father, my beloved, war weary, aging, father who gave you pass from these lands. However..." David's horse crept closer until the two were just mere inches from each other. "That was his mistake. One that I'm about to correct for him."

[Aldgarkalaughskel]

This is great stuff with style, and also unique. I'd like to see more. +rep

[ToroCici]

Men, this like reading a book ... I know I'm repeating myself but again EXELENT!!!

[Dmongooze]

King Malcolm sat alone. A long solid oak table stretched out before him. Many seats were peppered alongside it adding to the loneliness of it all. The hall amplified and let echo any sound he made. Flipping a page, a cough, or even adjusting his position. It was a lonely hall. Or maybe it wasn't the hall but the King's state of mind.

He should be rejoicing with his people, he thought solemnly. New had come from David days ago of a victory just north of Nottingham. The King had sent his troops north to retrain and re-equip at Inverness. David was leading the troops north when he came across a small band of Knights. Barnaby of Dane, an English knight of some renown among his people for pillaging and reaving. He was quickly surrounded by David's forces and killed.


David later found his army was scattered and stretched all along the roads coming from the north. They had been marching from Dublin and Barnaby had pushed his army to its limits, marching until men died from exhaustion or broke marching formation and fell behind. The English knight eventually took off with what little cavalry he had in hopes of making it back in time to help his people.

But that had been good news. He had rejoiced then as Barnaby of Dane was the last English army on the Isles. He had pushed England from the lands and secured them from the Scottish people. David, after retraining and regrouping, took his army West and took the city of Dublin. At the same time Edward sallied forth from London with his army and took the castle of Caernevon. The lands were now united under one banner of Scotland. Yet the King sat alone at his table. A single goblet of brew and cask were all that kept the King company now.





The two large doors to the Hall suddenly crept open with the moan of rusted hinges and creaking wood. It echoed loudly down the hall waking the King from his drunken stupor, who looked up to see his son, David Canmore approaching. The sounds of rejoice and celebrating slowly died as the doors came to a close behind the young knight.

"Father? Why are you sitting alone? You should be out with your people savoring the victory you have brought all of Scotland." David was smiling. As a baby it had been a most disarming smile one. Malcolm would have forgiven David for anything when he was a child with that smile. But not now. Not for murder.

"My men found him David. The peasants were calling it the dripping road. They said there was dead people there. Hanging from the trees along the road to the harbor." The King stood, he was a large man, broad of chest and thick of arms he generally stood taller by a foot over most knights. He was taller by two over David, which was very apparent to the young prince as his father stared down at him. "Why would there be dead bodies hanging from the trees, David?"

His disarming smile had gone. David already knew the answer. "Because I put them there." David turned and refilled his fathers goblet. "But what does it matter. It is war." He was quick to add and handed his father the foaming cup.

"What does it matter...?" The King repeated in almost a whisper, he shook his head mournfully and took a sip before placing the cup onto the table. His arm shot forth and clutched David's neck, the force of which lifted the young knight off his feet. "You murdered him!" Malcolm hoisted his son up and slammed him against a stone pillar, a series of which lined the hall from end to end.

David's world spun for a moment his instinct was the only thing to kick in and he grasped at the force that was crushing his neck. It took him a moment to realize he had been moved and was no longer standing but being pinned against a wall by his father. Both hands clutched his fathers wrist in a futile attempt to escape the grasp. "He was our enemy!" David spat between gasps of air.

"He was a boy! You hung him!" Malcolms other hand came around and slapped the young prince, splitting his bottom lip open.

"No, he was our enemy, you old fool! They all are! Your misguided attempts at mercy would make us weak." His sons words were hoarse and guttural, filled with hate and disgust, the amount of which Malcolm had never seen before in a man. "Our people will be brought into this new age by Edward and I. Your time is at an end. You united our people but we will cut out the shape of our new empire with the blood of the English on our swords."

"Empire?" The King's chest suddenly flared with pain, causing him to release David and stumble backwards against the table. The King clutched his chest. "What have you done?" His lips and mouth were numb, fingers and hands too? It was all going numb. His heart began to race and with it the fire in chest burned excruciatingly. "This is not how it was to be...you are my son."

"I've done what was necessary. Now sit down and die, old man." So he did. The King slumped to the ground as a coldness crept into his chest. It didn't hurt anymore. Nothing did. His eyes dimmed, his breathing grew slow and long before stopping with a soft sigh. The King was dead.

David poured the goblet of brew out over the floor before kneeling next to his father. Drawing his fingers over his fathers eyes, closing them. You will be celebrated for the hero you were Father. But your time is passed. This time is our time. This fight is our fight now. There is no country for honorable men. The Prince stood wiping the blood from his bottom lip, making sure it was clean, before stepping from the great hall into the streets where he would let his father's guardsmen know, the Kings heart had given out.

Long live the King.



(OOC: Thanks for the support guys. Its much appreciated and definitely makes it easier to finish every chapter. )

[Dmongooze]

A time past. Over two decades since the late King Malcolm was mourned. Although in death his people found what he had fought so hard for in life. His lands knew peace from Northern tip to southern shore. The Pope even blessed the catholic kingdom of Scotland after the death of King Malcolm.



The new King Edward despite his reputation had stayed his sword and sent the majority of his force north to his uncles fortress of Inverness. There they trained and marched ever fit, ever ready for the heed of their king. Most say this was done because Edmund the Chivalrous had the best forges and blacksmiths of all Scotland. Others say Edmund was suspicious of the death of his brother and had begun an investigation in what was being rumored as murder. The arrival of the Kings army was ever the topic of gossip in the courts. Was it a warning? A watchful eye incase his Uncle tried to muster his own forces? Or was it simply because the forges of Inverness were sturdy and the King trusted his uncle trained the finest troops in Scotland? No one knew and most were happier not knowing.

Despite some inner turmoil Scotland grew fat and populated at this time. Her farms were fertile, towns grew as children were born, those of common birth and those of royalty. Queen Teresa bore Edmund four children during this time. Sitheag was his first Daughter she had reached the age of 20. Edward had been slightly disappointed, wishing for a son as his first child, he rarely gave the child any sign of love or affection. Despite or because of this the princess grew into a woman of sense and rare strength.



His second child was a boy, his name was Raibert who had reached the age of fifteen. Rarely was the boy seen apart from his father and was usualyl found at his hip, learning the ways of court and sword. Edward's third and fourth were twins, one a boy, Cennedig and the other a girl, Mor.

Edmund also found a wife and even adopted a young knight into his house. The knight was most unknown to most of Scotlands court. Rumors spread that the boy is in reality his illegitimate son from his younger unmarried days.



The death of Scotlands famous cardinal drew the attention of the Pope. After hearing of pagan ritualists spreading their faith from Dublin freely with no opposition. Previously the Cardinal Brian Maknab had kept their beliefs in check and behind closed doors in Christian communities. An inquisition by the Pope saw the burning renewal of faith in Dublin and her surrounding country side. Some who were believers already were found guilty of sin, weather it be one of the seven deadly they all proved fatal in trial by the Inquisitors.



With Scotlands peace came trade from the western Iberian peninsula, to the searing sands of North Africa. A merchant in the service of Edward's father had been thriving but aging. Douglas the Ross had created a strong financial empire in Timbuktu. Like the warm african sands that fell through his hands so did the ones of time. So he made request for additional countrymen to carry on his post. The King agreed and commissioned diplomats, priests and several men of the coin to travel south.




North Africa was not the only trading post to be seen though. The Diplomat Hew Makartane had forged a legacy of his own. From the Moors to the Hungarian courts of eastern Europe he sealed trade agreements. His tongue spilt words like silk that seemed richer in promise then gold. Kings, Dukes and even Generals listened and agreed to pacts, alliances and deals. Even after death his servants fed information back to Scotland, informing her of major events.







The destruction of France was a shock to even the distant courts of Scotland. Milan and France had been waging a war for years now. France it seemed had the upper hand after sealing an alliance with the Holy Roman Empire. However, Milans armies knew no fatigue in their assaults and thrust north. They crushed france and began spreading into the Germanic boarders. The Pope, however had sent a request to end the bloodshed, something King Edward found familiar under his fathers rule. Unlike Scotland though Milan felt the wrath of a Crusade which enlisted nearly all of the surrounding catholic empires that were eager to wet their appetites for land and power under the Popes blessing.



It had been nearly a year since that time. Denmark had been found mobilizing for war, against who, was not known until later that season when her warships struck and blockaded Nottingham's ports.




The blockade was short lived however. Scotland's waters had not been guarded for years and pirates were common place. They fell upon the Denmark fleet with reckless abandon, forcing some ashore to be taken prisoners while others drowned. Among the surivors Cecile, Princess of Denmark was taken in chains back to Nottingham.




King Edward knowing Denmark would send another fleet, larger then the last and with troops to land he forced the Princess into marriage with young Prince Alexander. Ironically Alexander was the one who was forced most in this uniting. His very voiced objections were heard even during the ceremony Regardless the marriage went ahead. An uneasy peace was struck between the two nations now tied by blood. But for how long?




Not a year after the near war with Denmark, familiar colors were seen off the shores of southern Scotland. Crimson and Gold banners streaked from ships bearing English troops. It appeared England had come for her vengeance at long last.


(OOC: Next is the beginning of the real campaign. The battle at London. )