My first attempt at battle writing: Teutonic battle

[Munch]

This is one of my first attemts at battle writing, and is based on a custom battle (hard). It is between Lithuania and the Teutonic order, and the characters are all fictional.

Please offer feedback, just make sure, if it is negative, that it is constructive..

If people like it I shall finish the battle, this is only the start... It lacks quite a lot of the need overview, but that will come in future posts if people would like me to post more

Cheers

BTW, plz don't be put off by the block of text - I will add screenies as well



The knights that garrisoned the city had all been called out, roused from sleep with the message that tonight was the night that they would end the siege. Not one of the men had wanted to have to come out of his sleep to fight…

Several massive flaming rocks flew through the air towards the imposing high walls. The knights braced themselves, shields raised feebly. What good would a wooden shield be against artillery? Liquid fire poured over them as the rocks exploded over the top of the battlements. Cries of tortuous pain rang out through the night as men were incinerated where they stood. The fire glinted briefly off something in the trees. Something flickered in the dark. Then the knights audibly gasped as a great roar erupted from the tens of thousands of enemy as they forsook their hiding places in the forest and charged towards the walls.
"ARCHERS"! The command cut through the nervous murmuring on the battlements, "FIRE"!

At once hundreds of flaming arrows stormed down on the advancing enemy, cutting them down like a scythe through wheat. Entire units were wiped out/destroyed. One particularly close man gurgled weakly, frothing red at the mouth with an arrow protruding from his throat, before flopping limply into the mud, to be trampled by the soldiers behind him. A mutter ran through the knights assembled on the walls. The massive, looming dark objects trundling towards them could only be siege towers. The archers turned their attention to these with fire arrows. The brief light given off from the fire gave dismaying glances of the thousands of men charging to the walls. CRASH! A battering ram was at the gate. The men defending it turned side on and locked their shields together, swords at the ready, making final adjustments to their armour and weapons more for something to do in those nervous few moments than to make anything better.

Leofrick shivered as a cold sweat trickled down his face. He had been here many times before; he was an experienced foot-knight. It still didn’t do anything to quell the fear. He thought of his family and looked back towards the centre of the citadel. Was that his house he could see, faintly outlined by the dawn light? His daughter would still be sleeping, unaware of what was happening. She was only three. Regretfully he tore his eyes away. He was a Knight of the Teutonic Order. He was invincible alongside fellow heavy infantry knights. A great shattering tore him away from his thoughts. The ram was through and the first of the Lithuanians started to breach the walls. Horrific screams filled the air as boiling, flaming oil was poured down onto the Chosen Giltines as they rushed through, holding their war-hammers high. Leofrick’s unit leader raised his shield, punching the air with it. He glared around at the men that he had been through so much with. He circled his sword around his head and brought it swinging down.
"CHARGE FOR THE GLORY OF GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!" cried out General Adalwulf, which is noble wolf.
This call was answered spontaneously with a great enthusiasm. The knights at the gate all cried the Order’s battle cry and, swords held aloft, they rushed at the enemy.
"FOR GOD!!!!!"

Edward was standing on the battlements, listening to the battle at the gate. The Teutonic Knights looked as though they were doing well, but the enemy’s sheer weight of numbers were starting to push them back, closer and closer to the second wall. He hoped Leofrick was alright, he was so young. He looked back towards the siege towers approaching the walls. Several towers had already been set on fire, the men inside falling, screaming to their deaths. Now though, a tower had arrived at his point on the wall and the bridge was being lowered… As one, the men on the wall brought their shields out in front of them and made a shield wall, spears facing the tower. The enemy started to run off the bridge and onto the wall. The fighting commenced.

Back on the second defensive wall, Gomerick (which suitably meant man power; Gomerick was a muscular person) checked over his armour and looked at the men under his command, 60 of them. He called encouraging words to them as they could hear the battering ram beating at the portcullis, see the fire erupting over the battlements of the first wall. They could even feel the heat of the occasional mis-fired fire-barrels from the Lithuanians trebuchets and mangonels. Th barrels fired from the mangonels exploded in the air, providing a lethal fire-works display. They stirred uneasily, eager to be active, doing something to help, not just standing there waiting. Gomerick looked behind him and saw the final guard, the last resort, or, if all went their way, the force that could make the difference between an average or heroic victory. Then, like a death whisper, the sound of the order to charge floated lazily on the breeze towards them. A clashing rose into the air as the men manning the ram at last started pouring through the gate, into the space between the two walls…

"ARCHERS!!! FALL BACK!!! FALL BACK TO THE SECOND WALL!!!" the order cut through the air and at once the archers who had originally been on the first wall fell back to the second wall to rain death down on the Lithuanians who were now streaming through the gate, almost completely overrunning the pike-men and fifty or so dismounted Ritterbrüder. From their new positions on the second wall, the archers would be safe from the melee on the first, which would otherwise have spelt doom for them.

Edward stared in horror as the Samogitian Axemen slowly started consolidating a secure position on the walls despite the amount of men his fellow dismounted Ritterbrüder were litterally shovelling alive off the walls, onto the inside. They had reformed the shield wall into two wedges, starting with the point on the battlement side which then tapered back to the rear edge of the wall (like so / \ ). Like scissors, they would charge, and the enemy would be forced off the walls by the two shield wedges. Hundreds died in this way until the fronts of the wedges were worn through and finally the axemen had given themselves room to swing their axes.
Then the real fight began.

Leofrick side-stepped just as a halberd buried itself in the ground where he had been standing only moments before. Whilst the man struggled with his weapon, Leofrick stepped forwards and swung his sword which cut into the man’s neck sending a hazy fountain of blood spraying into the air. The man dropped like a stone. Satisfied, Leofrick raised his shield and braced for an impact, and juddered as this time a man’s two-hander dug into it. He lashed out, and his sword sunk into the man’s unprotected eyes. Just not far enough to kill him. In the following sweep of his sword, Leofrick saw the man spin to one, then the other side as his sword acted almost of it’s own will. The man finally stopped spinning with his back turned. One of the man’s own comrades cut him down to save his pain. Eagerly, Leofrick looked around for more targets.

The Lithuanians were slowly being pushed back by the foot knights on the walls where Edward was. He shook his body as a dog would to rid himself of the pain as he watched amazed, like in slow motion as an axe swung down towards his shield. But instead of his shield protecting him, the axe carved all the way through it, and into his arm. He looked up and saw the axe come down again, this time the death blow. He thought quickly and raised his sword, blade edge skyward. The axe pole was hewn in two, and Edward, seeing his huge advantage kicked the man in the stomach. The man fell backwards, and as he was reeling, arms out to balance, Edward ran him through the stomach. Crazily, the man kept fighting, holding his spilling guts, so Edward smashed the man over the head with his shield. This time the man wouldn’t survive as he was sent sprawling. Edward dutifully spun his sword into a dagger grip and stabbed it into the man’s heart.

[Munch]

It is OK to add rep or even just comment if you want...

[Aldgarkalaughskel]

Nice stuff. +rep Can you add some pictures?

[Desperado †]

Very nice, excellent writing skill. Must of taken you a long time, and for that alone I'll give you a +rep. Maybe a few pics to lighten it up? And also choose one on the wiped out/destroyed bit. Keep it coming!

[Munch]

KK, cheers for the comments, I'll add some pictures when I have got some off the replay... oh, and yeah, I couldn't decide about the wiped out/destroyed bit. A few bits need refining, but cool, I'll add some more stuuf to it. It should be ready to be posted by wednesday hopefully...
And about lengthening it into a full story, I was thinking that I could use this as a prologue, and then start a campaign as the teutonic order, would that be good, or not so good...

Oh, and it didn't take too long : )

[BeastG33]

The close combat stuff was pretty good but it's just hard to get into AAR that doesn't revolve around campaign battles. A custom battle seems kind of... meh and it didn't really feel like a battle between the Teutonic Order and Lithuanians until the middle. A campaign battle would change that.

I think those are the reasons you probably haven't seen as many replies as you would have liked. Plus, no pictures. But otherwise, really nicely written and interesting. I enjoyed it. +rep.

[Munch]

(Not muc really happens here, just some strategy and a grave decision...)

(Oh, and I'll edit in some pics when I have the time - possibly at the weekend)

General Adalwulf sat uneasily upon his huge warhorse. The battle wasn’t going his way at all. As he reviewed the positions at the gate, he saw he men being pushed further and further back. The pikemen guarding the gate had done a good job, but both units had been completely killed off. Following that he had ordered the supporting dismounted Ritterbruders in to help, and they too had been annihilated by the Chosen Giltines. He would have to look into having them fight for him if they captured sufficient amounts of them.

He needed at least one strong unit to hold the Lithuanians at the gate, and then he could smash into the enemies exposed flanks and cut them off from the support, effectively surrounding them. From there he could continue doing this, exterminating the small pockets of troops one by one.
However the gate units had been hacked apart and now he was running out of options. He had tried, for around half an hour, charging heavy Ritterbruder into the midst of the Lithuanians, but they had just been sent back each time, their numbers halved. Their efficiency needed to be made better. He summoned his second in command and they had a quick conference, both of their voices hoarse from bellowing out desperate commands. It was agreed. They would burn the gap from the first to the second wall, and retreat to the second triple time. He sounded the command.

Up on the second wall overlooking the fight, Gomerick heard the horn resounding through the citadel. He couldn’t believe it. It was clever yes, but to burn the castle, what was there to burn. Then he remembered. Every soldier carried a small quota of pitch to light their torches in night battles, as the dawn light had come, they had extinguished the torches for all but a few. They would pour the oil over the ground, soaking the dead bodies at the gate, light it, and they run. It provided an impassible barrier, gaining them a few precious minutes to retreat.. The clerics no doubt who were fighting would bless the bodies, but even still… Still the notes seemed to have cheered the men up – they now would see some action to sate their bloody appetites. The first flames started licking the outer walls.

Leofrick heard the tones of the horn and immediately finished off the man he was fighting and disengaged. He wasn’t one of the front row men who would die. (They would have to stay, giving the others the time they needed to spread the oil and make a run for it). He ripped the leather pouch off his belt and, as he ran to the tower he threw the contents over the muddy stone pavement.

Five minutes later, as they had regrouped behind the second gate, everyone was listening to what was happening. They could hear screams and the roaring of the fire, and dimly, like the sight of the dying sun at the end of the day, the last clashes as the rear guard finally died. The archers had been steadily blanket firing over the ground, killing the few enemy who had tried to cross through the fire and hadn’t either been cooked alive in their plate armour, or burnt alive by the actual flames.

Edward and his fellow men had finally finished dealing with the men from the siege towers, however, at the end, they had succumbed to defeated and almost willing died, knowing that it was inevitable whether it happened sooner or later. They had sprinted round the walls of the citadel, and then across a temporary wooden walkway onto the second. This had been torched soon after they had crossed to prevent the Lithuanians from following.

The battle was set, everyone was in position, and now they were beginning to see the extensive pictures of destruction of the fire through the thick smoke. Like a ghost army, they emerged, rank upon rank out of the death-plain of the no-man’s-land between the walls. Edward watched in horror and saw that they (the Lithuanians) mustn’t have had the full compliment of their forces attacking in the first wave, and that they had used the lull in the fighting to bring all of their troops into the citadel. They marched in a huge block formation, the smoke coiling around their legs as though they were the devil’s pagan army, emerging from the fires of hell. The people up on the walls were not surprisingly trembling. Many looking back at their houses, just behind them, thinking of their families and wishing this wasn’t happening. Many loosened themselves by shaking arms and legs. There was not a sheathed sword to be seen; all were being held anxiously. The enemy had stopped they were just waiting there, shields raised, standing at ease, apparently at a loss as to what to do. Many of the Teutonic knights started jeering, calling them cowards, making fun of their lack of action. They were silenced sternly and suddenly.

[Munch]

As they parted ranks, a monster bombard was seen trundling through. General Adalwulf, now more desperate than ever, trying to ensure that they didn’t break through the walls, talked quietly to one of the unit captains. It was decided. A small force of troops, perhaps only two score men, would embark on a heroic suicide expedition and charge at the artillery crews. Their aim was to kill as many of them as possible. If they survived finishing off the artillery crew, then, depending how their force had fared, would either retreat back to the second wall, or regroup and have one last death stand. The names of the force were called out, men noted for their age and valour – they couldn’t afford to kill off the younger generations in death stands like this, especially when they still had most of their lives to live. Gomerick stood, straining to hear the names. He couldn’t hear many of them, but then he heard, loud and clear, and there was no denying it.
“Gomerick” the final name echoed off the walls.
Gomerick sighed and, bidding farewell to his men, a few of them playfully punching him in the shoulder or slapping his back, stomped down to the force of exactly forty-four men. They all knew the score. It was kill or be killed, with every man for himself within reason. Stay in until pulled out or you feel it impossible to continue. It would be forty-four versus around 2000.
The gates were opened marginally: just enough to allow the band to slip under without too much attention. They softly padded around the side of the wall, a few more daring ones looking around the corner, backs hugging the cold brick. As one they drew their swords or gripped their spears more tightly then, with one last look at each other, they braced themselves and charged screaming their own individual battle cries. The archers drenched the Lithuanians with black-and-white fletched shafts, firing their arrows faster than was previously thought possible. They soon ran out of arrows so they picked up loose stones from the walls and hurled these instead.

From his vantage point on the second wall, Edward stared in dread as his boyhood friend Gomerick was set upon by three axemen. Gomerick dispatched of the first with a lunge through the throat, the second was carved through his abdomen whilst the third threw himself onto of Gomerick, who then hurled his assailant off as they rolled on the floor. Out of breath, he pounced on his quarry and repeatedly smashed his head on the floor. The axeman paid with his life for his attack. Similar scenes were seen elsewhere as the Teutonic knights hacked their way further and further into the Lithuanians, struggling to reach the monster bombards before they fired their first ball of lead. As they reached a unit of poleaxemen, one simpled Gomerick out and immediately went into the attack, swinging a crushing blow down onto Gomerick’s hastily raised shield. Edward then watched awe-struck as Gomerick, still unwounded slid his sword under the man’s defences and into his heart. Another swung, but the blow was cought on his raised sword, but Edward saw in dismay as the poleaxe’s shaft followed through, pivoting round the sword blade, swiping Gomerick’s legs from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Gomerick could almost feel the cold steel in his chest, watching the point where he was sure the axe would be in a few seconds. He thanked God for a good life and then closed his eyes. The blow never came and instead, as he opened his eyes, he saw a spear that seemed to grow out of the man’s chest. He looked with a somewhat quizzical expression at it, before grasping it and falling dead on the floor, Gomerick looked around for his saviour. He found him and nodded. The man nodded back and, Gomerick gawped in horror as a man raised a sword behind his saviour. His guard lowered, he received a huge blow to the head that ended his life. Anger burning in his blood caused Gomerick to go almost berserk, even as a spear gashed at his arm and an arrow embedded itself in his leg, he still rampaged through the Lithuanian’s ranks, chasing mercilessly the killer of the man who had saved him. He caught up with him and slew him. All of a sudden, his blood lust was gone and he stared around him and he saw that he was all alone, without support in the surrounding twenty metres.

[Munch]

Hi, sorry, I have the pictures, but it would take to long to actually upload them, but I may have tim during the summer hols(I only broke up today)
yay