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Thread: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned (Chapter Fifteen -- 9/2/13)

  1. #1

    Default [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned (Chapter Fifteen -- 9/2/13)



    Foreword Hello everybody!

    I'll have to admit that I found this place with the help of my brother. Yes, as you can possibly tell from my username, Swaeft is my elder brother. I'm 15 and he's 16, and as I write I can hear him typing away on the computer next door. I have decided to start an AAR, mainly because my hobby is writing, and also because my brother's AAR inspired me quite a bit. Not to mention all the kind comments he has received.

    He doesn't know I'm writing this as yet, but I'm not sure for how long I can last undetected by him. We are quite competitive I'll say, so this AAR may yet be another intense but friendly competition between us. I'm still not yet used to the way stuff works here (you need to press a button to bold your words ) but I guess with time I'll learn. Or when my brother finally discovers my AAR and I decide to ask him for help I can't even find where to change my avatar yet.

    This AAR should be quite a relaxed one, and I doubt I'll beat my brother in the long run anyway.


    Rules

    Faction: Republic of Venice
    Mod: Stainless Steel 6.4
    Campaign Difficulty: Hard
    Battle Difficulty: Very Hard
    Cheats: None. Obviously.
    Objectives: Finish this AAR
    Estimated Upload Rate: Four to Eight uploads per month.

    Well, I guess from here on I'm on my own now eh? Here's to a good start! (And no tearing me to pieces for my bad writing)

    Book 1: The Embers are Stirring
    Prologue
    Chapter One: A Fleeting Chance
    Chapter Two: Salvation
    Chapter Three: First Glimpse at Life
    Chapter Four: War, War and War
    Chapter Five: Saved!
    Chapter Six: Pointless Battle
    Chapter Seven: Death Stalks the Land and Choices Burn the Soul
    Chapter Eight: Painful, Agonizing Decisions
    Chapter Nine: Journey to Naples and the Underworld
    Chapter Ten: Enter the Shadows
    Chapter Eleven: Fighting in the Shadows
    Chapter Twelve: A Twist




    The Flames Are Kindling
    Chapter Thirteen: Catching Up
    Chapter Fourteen: The Death of One Doge and the Birth of Another
    Chapter Fifteen: A Decision to Make
    Last edited by Sweaft; February 09, 2013 at 02:31 AM. Reason: Updated the OP

  2. #2

    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned


    Prologue

    I hate my life.

    My mother had told me to behave, to listen to my father. But how—oh how could I do that when I detested him? He was the monster, the bully and the nightmare in the day that one could never wake up from. How--oh how could I rid myself of him? I had long wanted to do so, but my courage failed me at crucial moments. But this could not last.

    My mother was a slave. She was the slave of many things—cooking, washing, but most dreadful of all, she was a slave to Brates, a big, burly brute. Brates kept her hemmed up in his camp, and like the rest of the twenty five unfortunate women he used them for his amusement. Truly, the rags she wore were less than fit to muck out the stables.

    The stables, if it could even be called that, was a sorry excuse of a hut. The hut was old and worn down, yet Brates did nothing about it. The horses inside were flicking their tails about rapidly in annoyance—there were so many flies! Brates had stationed me here, to feed the horses. This was where I spent most of my miserable life, doing nothing but piling up the hay and ensuring that horses’ feces stayed off the barren floor. I still vividly remembered the first time one of the horses fainted of malnutrition. I had dozed off while counting the numerous wisps they called ‘clouds’ that danced across the wide expanse of the azure cyan sky. I was woken up by Brates, and had no more sky to stare at. A whip was brandished in my eyes, and I closed my eyes in trepidation.

    Brates had done this before many times, but not as tough as this one. My pathetic yelps of pain could be heard throughout the camp. “AAAAH!” Brates had wielded the whip with a sadistic twinkle in his maroon eyes, but I feared the whip more than Brates. Each time it crashed against my skin I doubled up, and each time I did so the men restraining me would exert force on my arms to keep me from running. But the whip never went away. It would come back, searing through the air that was powerless to turn it away, fuelled by its incessant hunger for blood. It kissed my wounds with all the affection of a tiger, its barbed spears digging into my feeble skin.

    When Brates had exacted enough agonizing screams from my lips, he cast the whip aside and it fell to the ground in a heap of dust. Smirking wildly, he leaned in close to me, close enough to hear my ragged breathing, and his foul mouth parted to taunt me. “Next time a horse whinnies louder than you fart, this will happen. Again.”

    “Do you know which horse you allowed to faint?” I struggled to stay conscious, but circles of blackness were swooping in and out of my vision, which was already clouded with a red mist. “I robbed that from a Venetian noble. Do you have any idea how many men I lost to get that baby?”

    My response was to spit at him. A globule of blood landed on the floor not far from his black boots. He assumed that I was too weak to even reply, so he answered his own question. “No, you don’t, you useless bum.”

    Then he left.

    He never gave me the chance to prove my worth, but I can't say he wasn't fair to me in this aspect. He never ever allowed me to follow him into battle after one mistake I made. We were hiding in the woods one fine day to ambush a merchant convoy passing through our mountains. It was a textbook trap, easily sprung and nigh-impossible to detect.


    We never succeeded because I sneezed and the mucus landed on the caravan leader's head. I was consigned to the stables after that.

    When I could finally gain the courage to stagger to my feet I rose and tottered about like a lost child.

    But I am a lost child. Lost in this land of pain and misery.

    My mother attended to my wounds, and using a wet cloth she held in her hands she tenderly wiped away the blood oozing out of my wounds. I cried from the pain, but I told myself to remain strong in front of my mother. I couldn't afford to show any weakness—after all I had promised to get her out of here some day. Whether that day would ever come was a painful question to consider. “Yes, it will come. Someday...”

    That was the first time I cried in my entire life. My life of torture.

    I didn’t give two hoots about Brates and his damn horse. He led a group of mercenaries well-known throughout the wilderness for their daring and lightning quick raids on valuable targets. The whereabouts of the loot he had gained during these raids was a mystery to all but the most trusted of his men. Rumors spread like wildfire every time he returned to the camp, but no one was able to accurately predict where he stashed his loot. The few times I had dared to step out of the stables to catch a glimpse of where the loot was heading were in vain, and I fled like a frightened chicken when I caught Brates staring at me. He beat me badly after that.

    I often wondered what I could do with the money I acquired if I ever got hold of Brates’ loot. I enjoyed planning various ways to get Brates’ loot, even if they would never succeed. Time crawled by as quickly as an ant scurrying about for food in the stables, and talking to horses weren't an option to pass the time. The plans amused me to no end, and I often dreamed of bringing down Brates myself, to end the beating of the devilish heart. But I would need to be exceptionally lucky to have even any chance of achieving that.

    My life was not only Hell, but it was also lonely. Despite the abundant presence of men and women in the camp, there were very little children. I did not miss the cries of joy and shrieks of surprise as I had never experienced them before, but I often pondered the impact other children would have in this small society I was living in. Brates certainly wouldn't let them run around, oh no—he would never do so.

    Brates was my father.

    I waited for an opportunity inside the stables. I waited for something—anything that would help change my fate—I didn’t want to clean up horses’ feces for the rest of my sorry life. So I waited, twiddling my dirty thumbs in the stables. I waited, dithering about whenever Brates came in to inspect me. I waited for so long solace was etched in my heart long before the opportunity came.

    And it came like a burning fire of justice, of reason, of such boldness it could only be my destiny to escape this madness.

    It hurtled straight for me.


  3. #3

    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    Brates had finally allowed me to participate in a fight with him. The question of ‘why’ buzzed around my head like a busy bee collecting pollen, but I knew better than to ask him. He never treated me well as a father anyway, so I assumed this was the final test of my worth.

    I was right. Brates came over with a lopsided snicker on his face, his shadow racing to keep up with him. “You’ll be joining me on thus un’, that’s what you've been clamouring for the past three days. You've got yer wish, but there’s a catch.”

    “If we fail in this attack, or if you die, you will be forgotten. You will be cast aside, for I feel nothing for you. As my son it is your duty to follow in my footsteps, and ha! Look where you are now! A miserable little runt with no appetite for battle.” I shivered, and not because of the chilly mountain wind.

    “If we succeed and you live however, I’ll let you join my ranks. From there on you can start earning yer pay like the scum you are. Bit by bit. Follow orders, don’t get killed, and I promise you a decent life filled with all the loot you can get. You may even rise to become a commander of-“

    “I agree.” I cut my father off. “I’ll do it.” Better than rotting here in the stables anyway, and if things do turn out the way I want them to, I’ll be free.

    Brates grinned wickedly, barring his yellowish teeth. He strode out of the stables, with a little boy of eleven following closely behind, clinging to the hem of his pants as if he loved the man so dearly. In truth, I was trying to find where he hid his weapons.

    I wasn't successful, but before I could take a further look I was unceremoniously interrupted by one of the cutthroats in the camp. “Captain, we've located the enemy brigands. They’re situated on the other side of the hill.” He raised his hand, a crooked finger pointing to a location indiscernible from my point of view. Brates nodded and dismissed the man, flashing that wicked grin at me yet again.

    I displayed no emotion, outwardly looking around nonchalantly. But my insides festered with horror—I was going to go toe to toe with a group of brigands! If the men who accompanied my father were anything to go by I would be facing a group of deadly fighters! Brates shook me steady and continued. He seemed to draw men to him wherever he was heading, and by the time he reached the outskirts of the camp there must be a hundred people accompanying him, all brandishing wicked axes that glinted in the afternoon sun. It was then I realized I wasn't armed, and told my father.

    “No, you’re not going to fight in this battle.” He spoke dismissively to me. “You’re going to sneak around and find the enemy leader, then kill him from behind. A kid of your stature should be very hard to spot among the tall grass.”

    A wave of relief coursed through me. I wasn’t going to fight! This was my chance to get away, to free myself from the chains of terror that bound me here. As soon as the attack started I could slip away easily by hiding in the tufts of tall grass, like what my father said.

    Like what my father said.

    No. It was too easy.

    Brates laughed. I looked at him and realized that he had been watching me with interest, scratching his chin every now and then. “You take me for a fool, do you?” He intoned. A stinging slap grazed my face and I was thrown to the ground.

    “This is the git you’re sending to kill the enemy leader? He’s dead meat!” I heard someone holler. Brates replied instantly. “Oh he’ll succeed.” He leaned in close to me. “Or else...you could lose your mother...you know what people say about sickness and disease these days...” With an evil grin he lifted me with a single hand and propped me up.

    I sighed with frustration. I knew he wouldn't let me go so easily. "At least let me see my mother before the battle." I pleaded. Brates nodded and helped me along. Or rather he threw me in the direction of the camp, and off I went, scrambling up the slope towards the hut that housed my dear mother.

    When I arrived, she was scribbling away furiously with a quill and some parchment. I was surprised, for I had never seen my mother with a quill before, and she told me that she wasn't literate. When she saw me entering she hurriedly rolled up the parchment and stood. "What's the matter, Ma?"

    "I know why you're here." She stated bluntly. "The fight with a rival clan is the talk of the camp today."

    I stood stock still, facing the ground. I had originally intended to break the news lightly to her, that I may never see her again, but it appeared a change in plans was in order.

    "Take this." She took a few timid steps forward and thrust the parchment into my hands. I started to unroll it, but her hand brushed mine aside. "Don't."

    "Why not, Ma?"

    Her eyes seemed to grow cloudy, and she focused in the distance. "Do not open this letter until you finish the battle." She handed me a heavy pouch as well. "And do not open this either."

    As puzzled as I was by her behavior, I knew my father would not like to wait long for me, and he would beat my mother in front of me if I offended him. The last time he did, my mother broke her nose, and I had no intention of repeating that. "Ma?" I huddled closer to her.

    She cuddled me like she had done in the past, a warm embrace and a peck on my forehead. "Don't, Ma. There's dirt up there."

    She chuckled and looked at me, her eyes glistening with tears about to begin their descent to the ground. "You haven't changed one bit." She remarked.

    I followed the trail of her teardrops to the ground. At first it strained against the edges of her eye. She blinked once and tried to hold back, but there were many, and the tears were eager for release. Like playful children they leaked out one by one, scuttling down her cheeks chasing each other. When finally the first teardrop reached her cheekbones, it slowed down ever so slightly as gravity and friction fought for control of the orb. In that fleeting instant I glimpsed a reflection of myself, short, slim, and worried. I saw how I looked like in a teardrop. It wasn't pretty.

    Then the tear fell. I watched its descent with vested interest. Its flight lasted for half a second. I embraced my mother again, and my own tears began to fall. Her heartbeat was audible in my ears, and no slower than my own.

    "WHERE IS THAT USELESS YOUNGLING?"

    "I have to go, Ma. Before Pa comes and beats you up again." I blurted out, freeing myself from her embrace. She nodded sadly and blew me a kiss. "I love you, Justin."

    "I love you too, Ma." I eked out while slipping out of the tent. The way her eyes gazed at me was unnerving, but I had better things to worry about for now.

    "YOU IDIOT, IT'S TIME TO GO!" Brates would wake a crocodile on the other side of the world at this rate. "I'm here, Pa." I moaned, stumbling down the rocky slopes. He dragged me by the ear and led me to the assembly area, where the rest of the men were waiting in their brown shirts and weird-looking hats.

    "Go now." Brates hissed. "And don't come back until you are done, or your mother is my breakfast tomorrow." I slipped silently to the right as a few of the men snickered. Heartless beasts. I took one last look at the men who were standing around my father confidently in the Sun. Then I vanished into the grass
    .

  4. #4

    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    I'd like to thank whoever that deleted the rest of the unnecessary posts. It looked ridiculous on the front page. Sorry for all the trouble caused. The next update is coming soon!

  5. #5
    Swaeft's Avatar Drama King
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    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    I've said whatever I had to say in private, so now make sure you do a good job, and don't shame us. I'll be watching your progress eagerly...brother.

    Swaeft's Scribblings (Library)| Swaeft's Snaps (Gallery)| My Blog (The Lensation)

  6. #6

    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned


    The grass was thick, and covered my movement well. The mere blades were at least an inch taller than the top of my head, so I could scurry through the grass with little trouble. I could hear taunts being yelled across the valley, I assumed that was the prelude to the bloody fight about to take place. I rushed as quickly as I could to the back of the brigands, but not too quickly—I had to find a weapon as well. My bare feet scuffed the edge of some rocks, and I bent down to pick them up.

    No, too small. No, too soft. No, too h...heavy. Ah!

    I found a rock of a suitable size and held it in my trembling hands. This could kill with a well-aimed throw. I hastened towards the rear of the battle—yes, the fight had already stared. I heard the crack of a skull and winced. I silently hoped that Brates and his men had not yet discovered that the brigand leader wasn't dead. I reached a patch of barren land where the grass parted, and sneaked a peek around the corner.

    Brates’ men were winning the battle, and from what I could see the brigands would be crushed like ants in under a minute. I hefted the rock in my hand. Such a primitive tool would wield such power in my hands. I took a deep breath, but it was hard to control my raging emotions in the heat of battle. I recognized the brigand leader hefting away with his sword, but what struck me even more was how my father was bashing heads and caving skulls in left and right. No one seemed to be able to oppose him as he cut a bloody path through the light resistance of the brigands. I aimed for the final time and threw the rock as hard as I could towards the brigand leader.

    It struck my father on the head. Brates was aiming for the brigand leader himself, bellowing his challenge for all to hear. Unfortunately...

    “You mean fortunately,” a voice said in the back of my head. Yes. Fortunately my father had charged straight into the path of the flying rock. I watched incredulously as the rock seemed to bounce off him. The fear rushed back into me in torrents—my father was going to beat me to death after the fight.

    Then he toppled down and a grand cheer erupted from the brigands.

    I watched, awestruck, as the brigands started pushing back my father’s men with renewed vigor. Brates’ men were in disarray, disheartened by the death of their leader, they probably thought he fell in battle—they could not know I had accidentally yet joyously struck him down with a rock. “Kill them all!” I urged the brigands on in my mind. If all of Brates’ men died, I could simply stroll to the camp and take the loot and free my mother from this life of misery.

    It was then the unthinkable happened. I looked around for another suitable rock in the vicinity to lob at the brigands when I saw the column of smoke in the distance on top of the hills. The group of men marching downhill hoisted proudly a flag emblazoned with a symbol I was sure I saw before. But where?


    I racked my brains trying to discover where on Earth I had seen that symbol. House? No. During a battle? No. Campfire? No. Stables? No...yes!

    I had seen the symbol on the side of the horse that fainted. The horse belonged to a Venetian noble! But that meant...

    I was stunned as the realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. “The Venetians! They’re here!” I whispered to myself. I refocused on the battle unfolding between the brigands and Brates’ men, which seemed to have evened out after the shock of Brates’ death. About seventy or so men from both sides remained alive, fighting tooth and nail for their lives. They would be too distracted to see the Venetians coming...

    I ran to a nearby tree and hid behind the shadow of its trunk. I could watch the events unfold from here. I peeked out just in time to see someone’s head being squashed to a pulp by an axe, and shuddered.

    “There they are! Get the scumbags!” Everyone would have heard that shout.

    I peeked out again and was just in time to witness some squires clashing into the ranks of Brates' men and the brigands.


    I heard cries of shock and terror amid the mercenaries, but felt no pity for them. They deserved to die like the dogs they were.

    As the fight wore on I noted that the brigands and Brates' men were uniting together to fend off the greatest threat, but they were outmatched, outnumbered and were losing badly. "Taste steel!" I spat out as I saw one of the brigands fall. A joy like never before filled me and energized me, heightening my sense. It seemed as if I could hear every axe cutting through flesh, see every sword strike down its opponent. Fascinated, I looked around the battle and saw a man clad in a red cape riding forwards bravely. His armor looked...better to me than the others, and he hewed down brigands and mercenaries easily.

    He had to be the commander.

    It was then I realized he was about to get killed from behind. Horror overcame me as one of the brigands rose from behind to strike at the commander, lifting a heavy axe in his two cursed arms.


    "BEHIND YOU!" I dashed out of cover and yelled at the commander. "Please don't die." I implored.

    The commander seemed surprised to see me. But his reaction was nothing compared to the look on the brigand's face. The brigand's mouth was twisted into a scowl, and his eyes were burning with rage. He stared at me, his very eyes emitting a fearful, horrible look—a promise to gut me like a fish later.

    He never got the chance. The commander immediately reared up on his horse and cut the bastard down.


    "Yes!" I punched the air with great delight. The commander turned to face me, and even from behind his helm I sensed gratitude pouring out from him.

    The battle was won. The surviving brigands and mercenaries threw their weapons down and surrendered. They had had enough.

    They were all executed on the spot, and while some of the Venetians were horrified by such a brutal display I felt deep down that the brigands deserved it.

    The Venetian commander approached me as his men stripped the bodies of the dead. He extended his hand to me, but I did not shake it. I just stood there awkwardly, quivering in the face of this skilled swordsman. He sighed and dismounted.

    He grasped my hand firmly, and removed his helm. I saw the face of a young man no older than thirty looking into mine. I hungrily poured over his facial features. Dark hair. Medium sized, brown eyes. Small black mustache. Lips twisted...in a smile.

    "What's your name?" He questioned. "Justin. I replied. That was my name, wasn't it?

    "Well, Justin, I owe you my life. You saved me just now, and for that I thank you."

    I was petrified. This was the first time in my entire life that someone had even bothered to give me credit for anything at all! I twiddled my thumbs and said nothing and continued to look into those kind, brown eyes. "Hmm..." The commander said, clearly not at ease by the situation.

    "Where are your parents?" He asked me. Parents. The word repeated itself dimly in my brain. Parents.

    "My Pa?"

    The commander's face brightened. "Yes, your Pa! Your father. Where is he?" I guided him towards the bodies of the slain. I pointed towards the biggest man in the pile, Brates wasn't hard to identify. He also had a staved-in chest; he was probably trampled to death my a horse. "Oh no..." I heard the commander utter. What was he afraid of? That I could not face the death of my father? Oh, this man did not know--he knew nothing about what I had endured.

    "Your mother, then?" He asked softly.

    I pointed towards the ridge of the slope. "Back at camp." The commander looked crestfallen. His brow furrowed non-stop, and I knew something was amiss. "What's wrong?" I dared to ask.

    "Well...I'm not good at speaking so pardon me, but I think your mother is dead."

    I laughed. "My Ma isn't dead, sir. She didn't take part in the fight. She's at home, resting." The commander was shaking his head from side to side, a disconsolate look upon his once proud face.

    "It is as I feared...your mother really is dead, Justin." His words echoed between my ears, ringing irritatingly.

    Dead.

    Dead.

    DEAD.

    DEAD!

    But how?

    "Why..."

    The commander sighed, the look of a weary and beaten man entered his eyes. His brown eyes that looked upon mine with kindness.

    "I...I found your camp a while back, and...oh blast." The commander's chest was heaving as he spoke, his every syllable dripped with the taste of death. "I ordered everyone killed there."

    He killed my Ma. The innocent, kind and generous mother that I knew since young who had taken such great care of me, the woman who had squeezed every inch of her life to the limit to feed me.

    Was gone.

    Gone! Gone like the wind!

    "You...killed...my...MA?!" Rage swelled up from within me, this man was a monster! The commander remained mute, staring forlornly at the ground, tears dripping from his eyes, moistening the grass that was already slick with red blood. "WHY?" I shouted. I pummeled the man with my fists, but in the end my fingers hurt from the impact on his armor. By the time my anger subsided I wasn't the only person crying.

    Now I had no one. No family, no friends. I didn't even have anything to remember my mother by. I didn't care about remembering my father, for he gave me much hurt and agony. But my mother...

    Wait...I have something! I fished out the letter she had rolled up so nicely for me and unrolled it. With bated breath I began to read. Her spelling mistakes did nothing to diminish the eagerness of which I read it.


    Justin,

    You know I am not goood at writin, but I have to tel you that I really, really love you. By the time you red this I will probably be dead, but don't cry, it was an honor to be your 'Ma'. Know this, and take some comfort in it, for I am not your rael mother. Neither is Brates your rael father. He adupted you a few years ago. Your parents are Venatien. They are in the city of-


    "Of what?!" I cried out desperately. The commander gently eased the letter from my trembling hands and began to read it. I thought back to when I had burst into the hut my mother was in. She was writing a letter, but when she noticed me she had stopped writing.

    Why? What secret did she not want to tell me? Why oh why did I barge in like that? I berated myself over and over again.

    I could hear gasps of understanding from the Venetian commander as he finished reading the message.

    "Where can I go now..." I sobbed. I did not care if she was my real mother or not, she had done enough and suffered enough hardships to justify her position ten times over.

    The Venetian commander looked at me with pity in his eyes. Wave after wave of distress coursed through me, there I stood under the midday Sun, a nervous, vulnerable wreck.

    Then the Venetian commander seemed to harden his heart, and he knelt down and faced me. With his left hand he wiped the tears away from my face, but he could not clean up the trails of water they left behind. The trails of great grief. He extended his hand to me.

    "Let me take you in."
    .

  7. #7

    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    Quote Originally Posted by Swaeft View Post
    I've said whatever I had to say in private, so now make sure you do a good job, and don't shame us. I'll be watching your progress eagerly...brother.
    Jealous, bro? I'm only joking, your AAR has me riveted for hours.

  8. #8

    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    Let me be the first person outside the family to say welcome!
    Good start and now I have two of you to keep an eye on.

  9. #9
    EΣXHATON's Avatar Civis
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    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    ahhh good start !

  10. #10
    Swaeft's Avatar Drama King
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    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    Not bad, bro! Keep up the good work! I'm not going to spoil the faction you're playing as though...

    Swaeft's Scribblings (Library)| Swaeft's Snaps (Gallery)| My Blog (The Lensation)

  11. #11

    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    Quote Originally Posted by Radzeer View Post
    Let me be the first person outside the family to say welcome!
    Good start and now I have two of you to keep an eye on.
    Quote Originally Posted by EΣXHATON View Post
    ahhh good start !
    Thank you both for your encouragement. It sure helps in giving motivation. The next update will be tomorrow I guess.

  12. #12
    Tigellinus's Avatar Citizen
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    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    Quote Originally Posted by Sweaft View Post


    Hello everybody!

    I'll have to admit that I found this place with the help of my brother. Yes, as you can possibly tell from my username, Swaeft is my elder brother. I'm 15 and he's 16, and as I write I can hear him typing away on the computer next door. I have decided to start an AAR, mainly because my hobby is writing, and also because my brother's AAR inspired me quite a bit. Not to mention all the kind comments he has received.

    He doesn't know I'm writing this as yet, but I'm not sure for how long I can last undetected by him. We are quite competitive I'll say, so this AAR may yet be another intense but friendly competition between us. I'm still not yet used to the way stuff works here (you need to press a button to bold your words ) but I guess with time I'll learn. Or when my brother finally discovers my AAR and I decide to ask him for help I can't even find where to change my avatar yet.

    Well to start off I'm not going to tell you guys the faction I'll be using, but I'll take a leaf out of my bro's AAR and state the rules here. This AAR should be quite a relaxed one, and I doubt I'll beat my brother in the long run anyway.


    Rules

    Faction: All in Good Time
    Mod: Stainless Steel 6.4
    Campaign Difficulty: Hard
    Battle Difficulty: Very Hard
    Cheats: None. Obviously.
    Objectives: Finish this AAR
    Estimated Upload Rate: Four to Eight uploads per month.

    Well, I guess from here on I'm on my own now eh? Here's to a good start! (And no tearing me to pieces for my bad writing)
    I got to say mate, Your brothers AAR is my favorite on this site. You and him have a talent for writing.

    Keep it up!




    Proudly under the patronage of McScottish

  13. #13

    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned



    My feet had no energy in them, they were limp and lifeless. As a consequence the Venetian commander propped me on a horse and we set off for an old castle called 'Ancona'. The journey was arduous and long, and I didn't speak to anyone. I was bemoaning my loss...such a great loss...

    My 'mother' had indeed died. The Venetians had cut through every man, woman and child at the camp. No one was spared. I sat numbly behind the commander, bouncing up and down every now and then due to the inconsistent ruts and twigs on the small, narrow dirt road.

    Ancona. I had been here all my life, I just didn't know it. The mountains I lived on, the mountains that Brates had leeched off and hidden in all his life were nothing more than a footnote upon the entire world. Brates had kept me holed up here against my will, and now I was finally free of his influence. Free! Oh, behold how joy overcame me! I was elated, as carefree as a bird in the sky, and nothing would ever drag me back to the hell Brates had put me under!

    “Jesus, you reek of filth.” The Venetian commander remarked while pinching his nose, drawing me out of my reverie. I sniffed the air and sure enough, my disgusting, smelly body was emitting a foul odour. I noticed that we had entered a wide expanse of grass, and a river ran parallel to us, coughing up froths of crystal clear water every now and then.

    “Company, halt!” The commander raised his right hand. All movement ceased and the other riders started to fidget. The commander looked at the position of the sun in the sky, and I followed his gaze. I stared into the slowly darkening sky, as crimson rays of light streaked across the sky. The sun was about to set. The scene looked heavenly, it was almost as if I was in a dream. I had never seen the sun from this angle before—on a plain clear of the damned mountains and hills. No, this was a far more glorious sight to behold.

    “...we’re almost near the castle of Ancona, we’ll make camp here.” The commander was saying. He turned to me. “Run along to the river and wash yourself before one of my horses puke, eh? I’m not really good at cleaning horse vomit.” I giggled, and that elicited a hearty smile from the commander. “Just don’t go too deep!” He called after me as I sped towards the river.

    SPLASH! I announced my arrival in the river with a mighty leap, and when I landed I discovered that the water reached above my waist. I attempted a cursory peek under the waterline, and saw that I had scared away many river trout, and they were scattering in all four directions like silver bullets. The water was calm and cool, and as long as I did not wade too far out, I would not get caught by the current, something I was keen to avoid.

    I started to cleanse myself of all the dirt and muck that had accumulated on my body and thin clothes since my escape from Brates’ camp. I had made many new friends during the journey here—bees, flies, crickets, bugs and the like. None of them repaid my friendliness. I took off my shirt and used it as a makeshift sponge, letting it fill with water then scrubbing my arms, chest and back. The water made this all the easier by maintaining a perfect level of current—not too high to sweep me away, but not too low to be ineffective at washing dirt away.

    When I was finally satisfied with myself, I sat down in the water, my head slightly above the waterline. I relaxed there, simply enjoying the feeling of the water caressing my rough skin. I could feel a few of the braver, more adventurous trout swimming in circles around my fingers. Their scales were soft and smooth, a welcome relief from the many days of travelling which added to the serenity of the river.

    “Justin, come back!”

    I groaned in dismay. I had only been here for half an hour, and the water was just starting to get colder, something that I had very much looked forward to. Still, darkness was descending upon the Earth, and the turquoise water was no longer see-through due to the absence of sufficient light. I retrieved my soaked shirt and started to approach our campsite when...

    What was that? Something was moving in the distance, but I couldn’t quite make it out. A silhouette melted into the darkness of the night, and try as I might I could not quite make out where it went or what it was.

    Troubled, I strode back slowly to the camp which was already ablaze with many different campfires. The tent flaps caught the brilliant rays of light, and more shadows flitted from tent to tent. “There ya are.” The Venetian commander said. It was then I realized I still did not know his name.

    “May I know your name, sir?” I politely asked. The commander slapped his head in bemusement. “How could I forget to introduce myself to you?” Still shaking his head, he continued. “My name is Thomas. I’m leading this company of squires on a mission to eradicate bandits in the surrounding countryside. Ever since the siege of Ancona, the remaining bandits not in the castle have been scurrying about, trying to salvage what loot that still remains in the countryside for themselves. Our mission was to track them, find them, and kill them. You know the rest.”

    I thought hard. “The siege of Ancona?” I ventured.

    “Yes, young child. Our Doge himself has the castle under incessant siege. No one enters or leaves without his blessing. The siege has gone on for three months now, and the rebels are running low on supplies. I believe they will attack soon. I’m heading to Ancona to link up with the Doge.”

    I pondered what Thomas had just said. We were heading to Ancona, presently under siege, in order to participate in another battle?

    “No, you won’t be fighting them.” Thomas had read my mind. “You’re too young, and you’re not trained anyway. You’d be worse than the peasant levies under the Doge’s command.”

    “Peasant levies?” I wondered aloud. Thomas groaned.

    “I’ll fill you in on the way there. For now, just sleep, okay?” He rubbed my forehead with his right hand, and I relaxed somewhat.

    “Thomas, just now, I saw—“ I began, then stopped short when I saw the scowl on his face. I didn’t want another Brates.

    “What is it now?” Thomas looked at me irritably.

    “Nothin.” I mumbled, heading to my tent. I didn’t want to anger Thomas any more.

    “Hey, where are you going?” Thomas asked. I turned around to see a smirk on his face.

    “To bed, sir.” I replied. I thought he knew that.

    “You’re sleeping in my tent tonight. Follow me.” I did so, and never regretted it. His tent was larger, more spacious and definitely more comfortable than the rest of the soldiers’ tents. I murmured my thanks and drifted off to sleep; dreaming about shadows, blood, and God knows what.

    **

    "There! Across the ridge!" Someone was shouting. I rose from my slumber, annoyed to no end by the shouting. I was just dreaming of eating marshmallows roasted over the fire, the taste so recent it seemed to linger over my needy tongue.

    I clambered out of my bed roll and noticed that Thomas was already gone. I hastened outside the tent and saw many of the squires gathering in a line, facing a castle in the distance.

    A castle. It appears we had been camping below the hill right next to the castle itself. Thomas approached me and grabbed my shoulders, massaging them slowly. "We'll stay here and watch the fight. Nothing much we can do anyway, by the time we arrive the battle will probably be over."

    "I'd wager twenty florins that the battle would end in ten minutes, but no one wants to play!" A squire whined.

    "I'll take you on. Twenty florins for twenty minutes." Another squire accepted his challenge. Mock groans erupted from the crowd.

    One of them let out a loud whoop. "That's the Doge himself! Praise the Lord!" I squinted as best as I could, and just about made out a very well decorated and well polished banner, on it emblazoned what looked to be a lion with wings.


    "Hark, look there!" A squire shouted, his whole body squirming with excitement. "The ranks have clashed!" A few of the squires nodded approvingly as I ran over, my legs burning with the fire of eagerness. His words were well and true.


    It was then I witness the most spectacular sight in my entire life. The Doge's banner seemed to twist and turn around, searching for a target as a hawk would circle its prey. When the Doge finally seemed to pick his target, the banner whirled about in the wind and zoomed towards a company of Spear Militia.

    Even from here I felt the rush of adrenaline, my increasing heart rate and the deeper breaths I took. Goosebumps erupted all over me as the Doge's banner closed with that of the rebel Spear Militia. The comely horses galloped at great speed, their handsome manes swaying proudly in the wind, their hooves thundering over the soft grassy Earth.


    When the charge hit, I felt as if a fire of awakening had finally exploded inside of me. I saw for myself a glorious myriad of lances, as long as an elephant's trunk and as sharp as the bark of a dog. I heard for myself an epic orchestra of clanging, smashing and battering that seemed to vibrate the very cells within me. I closed my eyes, awash with the feeling of...victory.

    Then I looked back, and the company of Spear Militia were no more. Gone like the wind. Gone like how Brates had been trampled off the face of the Earth. Gone, just as it should be. "Ah...I can only dream of producing such a charge..." Thomas sighed. The rest of the squires agreed, and I knew they were right. After all, their charge into Brates' men back at the mountains wasn't this spectacular, and no one flew through the air like a busy bee in flight.

    "Over there!" Someone shouted again. The vibrant energy in the air was reaching its breaking point, thrumming and alive. It threatened to engulf me and explode from within. I looked towards where the squire was pointing and gasped in surprise. The Venetians had taken the walls!


    Locked out of their own settlement and facing the deadly spears of the Venetians, the remaining rebels surrendered. "It's time for us to make an entrance." Thomas concluded. "Ride with me, squires of the Republic!" The horses were saddled and pawed the ground. Perhaps the electrifying energy in the air had supplanted their own.

    By the time the horses had ambled to the castle Doge Vitale, as he was named, was already in the town square supervising the gathering of prisoners and civilians sympathetic to the rebel cause. "A hundred and twenty nine dead..." He was bemoaning. It was not until I saw the battle report than I realized what he was talking about.


    "Hail, my Doge!" Thomas' shout rang out, and most of the men in the town square turned to meet him.

    "Welcome, Sir Thomas!" Doge Vitale hollered back, and the two embraced like brothers. I sat silently upon my saddle, absorbing the situation. Doge Vitale seemed to me like an unassuming but friendly man, and he had most certainly welcomed us as warmly as possible.


    "We were just about to decide what to do with the prisoners." Doge Vitale was explaining. "I was thinking along the lines of releasing them, and granting them amnesty and citizenship in exchange for the promise of hard work and toil."

    When the prisoners heard this, they knelt before the Doge and begged for clemency. The very same lies I heard when Brates and his men had defeated rival brigand groups were being sprouted here again. "We'll never do it again! We'll support your cause! We'll be honest, hard working citizens!" I cursed them silently.

    Unfortunately the decision and power wasn't in my hands, and Doge Vitale decided to release the prisoners, who at once gave a great shout of "long live the Doge!" He also decided not to sack the castle but instead occupy it peacefully.

    Only one recalcitrant stood out from among the crowd, he appeared to be the captain of the rebel garrison. He had not accepted the Doge's kind offer, yet he still remained alive here; an insult to the Doge and his mercy! This stirred the embers in my heart, and I silently hoped the Doge would kill him.

    "Well well well, what have we here, Thomas?" The Doge mocked the sole remaining prisoner. "An idiot." Thomas spat. I dismounted and stood by Thomas' side.

    "And who's this?" The Doge looked questioningly at me, but his inquiry was directed at Thomas, and it was Thomas who answered. "A young child we found in one of the rebel camps. We rescued him and brought him along with us, for his parents were rebels."

    Doge Vitale nodded, but turned around to refocus on the captain. "What's your name, bold rebel?" He questioned.

    "It's captain Bucello, scum!" He spat, the wad of saliva landing inches from the Doge's boots. Doge Vitale reddened in anger and strode towards the captain. "Gag him!" He roared in fury, and two soldiers carried out his order. Doge Vitale then spat thrice on captain Bucello's head, and the crowd laughed, some holding their sides in their fit of joy. "Take that, scum." Doge Vitale responded. Then he drew his sword from its scabbard and raised it high in the air, the sunlight glinting off the wicked point, but the fire in my heart burned the brightest.

    "Wait!" I ran towards the Doge just as he was about to strike down the captain. Doge Vitale looked surprised, and lowered his sword. "What is it, young one? Make it quick, for I have lunch to eat!" To this the crowd chortled yet again, but I did not. I looked at captain Bucello in the eye, and detected some form of gratefulness behind the red mist of apparent anger. How wrong he was.

    Much to the shock of the crowd, and to the utter surprise of Doge Vitale and Thomas, I snatched the blade from the Doge's hand and stabbed captain Bucello in the eye. His whimper of agony died out almost instantly.


    Then, with his head lolling lifelessly on the floor, I left the blade in captain Bucello's face and strode back towards my mount, all eyes on me. Watching in awe at the hunger, passion and fury that the small 'child' had just displayed.

  14. #14
    Swaeft's Avatar Drama King
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    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    Haha, nicely done young bro...perhaps this means war...

    Edit: Use the time that I have given you wisely...for I shall return with a vengeance next week

    Swaeft's Scribblings (Library)| Swaeft's Snaps (Gallery)| My Blog (The Lensation)

  15. #15

    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    Quote Originally Posted by Swaeft View Post
    Haha, nicely done young bro...perhaps this means war...

    Edit: Use the time that I have given you wisely...for I shall return with a vengeance next week
    I shall

  16. #16

    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    My doing was the talk of the day. On my way to Doge Vitale’s quarters on the street, I glimpsed many frightened faces, and the hushed conversations prickled me ears like a cat’s claws softly scratching them.

    “That’s him! The boy who gored a man through the eye.”

    “There’s something in him...the Devil mayhap.”

    “Don’t look, son! Lest your eyes be scorched from the fire in his gaze!”

    “That’s right.” I murmured to myself. “Let my gaze set you on fire, and may you roast alive...cowards.”

    I was marked by Doge Vitale as a promising commander. He said I possessed the strength, spirit and guts to become a great leader, but said that I needed to receive formal military training first. And to think a month ago I would be covered in dirt, muck and slime.

    Thomas was especially protective of me, but I didn’t really appreciate his kindness the way he expected me too. I knew he meant well, what with all the ‘he’s too young’ and ‘he’s not ready’, and I knew he was right. But I needed this chance, I needed to grab it with both hands before it passed by and never came back again. And so it was decided—I would train under an experienced instructor at Ancona, and leave to join the Republic of Venice as a vassal when I was done. A vassal! I was excited by the prospect, but that was still three years away. Now I would need to go through three gruelling years of special high intensity training, and much back breaking work awaited me.

    The first few months weren't so bad. All I needed to do was wake up early, proceed to a class on basic sword strokes, have a hearty lunch, take part in a spear mastery lesson, have dinner, train some more then go to bed. It was a dry, boring routine, but one that I stuck to throughout the crisp winter, for I knew I would need the knowledge when I finally faced the world. The cruel, unforgiving world.

    The sword trainer commented that my strokes were elegant and polished, but lacked the tenacity required in battle. The spear master complimented me for my aggressive stabs and thrusts, but reminded me to maintain my formation in battle—a spearmen’s best friend in battle is not his spear nor his shield, but his mates to his left and right in an overlapping shield wall. I didn't even bother to attend the class on archery—the flight (or plight) of an arrow did not interest me in the least.

    The first year of my training ended on a sour note—war had been declared with the Sicilians.


    I didn't know much about them, nor the reason why war was declared, but enemies are enemies and the Sicilians had become my nemesis. By order of Doge Vitale, all Sicilian trading groups were allowed to leave unharmed. That was his virtue—his vision of chivalry. That was also an unrealistic, improbable dream.

    In reality the Sicilian trading groups were harassed all the way to the borders by thugs, looters and the like. At the castle of Ancona, I was in a prime position to spot and see for myself the heinous deeds. On display was an utter lack of any nobleness—it sickened me to the core. Although I never understood or approved of the notion of chivalry, I truly despised those who broke their word. The embers in my heart were begging to be lit, and every muscle in my body itched for a fight, but I restrained myself with great difficulty. My time would come.

    So I limited myself to the loathsome daily routines of eat, sleep, train. News filtered in from time to time—they were suspiciously always positive. I longed to discern the truth for myself, to rid myself of the web of lies that encroached ever further upon my mind. Yet I could not, and the feeling of helplessness burned through me. Then at last a solid piece of news reached our ears. Naples, the capital of the Kingdom of Sicily, had been besieged.


    As my training progressed, the level of difficulty increased exponentially, for I was now required to slash at a moving target with full armor on a horse! And the spear mastery lessons weren't easier either, I had to learn how to fend off two opponents at once with my shield and spear. It certainly tested the limits of my skill, which was ever-improving.

    Then more news arrived—many Kingdoms had decided to start their own wars, notably our allies, the Kingdom of Hungary, who were attacked by the arrogant and cantankerous Byzantine Empire.


    This was cause for concern, as there was no telling where or when the Byzantines would strike, so Doge Vitale started mass training of soldiers and ordered a mass construction of ships. And true enough, the Byzantines soon sent a large scouting party to pay Ragusa a 'visit'.


    The air was buzzing with the sense of war, and already the preparations have been made. It is cold and quiet here in Ancona, but I fear for the populace of Ragusa, for they are in the most immediate danger.

    During this time, I have also had numerous invisible queries about my parents flying about my head. The letter my mother wrote to me was no help at all; it only exacerbated the fact that I had no parents, or at least, didn’t know them. During my free time I hopped about the marketplace, listening for any vital clue or rumor about my real parents. It was to no avail. The fanciful nature of the local tavern did nothing to help me in my search. This made me feel irascible and irritable, and soon enough no one wanted to make friends with me. My life was back to the boorish, cynical, sulky one back at the mountains of Ancona. Those cursed mountains.

    **

    The three years passed slower than the crawl of a sloth. I had nothing more to learn from the instructors here at Ancona, yet I wasn't considered a good swordsman or spearman. I was a strapping young lad, more nimble than robust, and I had high hopes of being assigned to a useful position in the Venetian social ladder, but those same hopes were dashed merely a few days after I graduated from the military academy.

    I was assigned to a company of squires, or Mounted Sergeants as they were so earnestly referred to. My heart had sunk three inches lower when the news was broken to me, but my mood transformed when I learnt that Thomas was in the same group. The only difference was that I was now the company commander.

    Our greetings were less than cordial, for I brought grim news to the company—we were to be moved to the frontlines. The Byzantine’s acts of aggression were no longer to be tolerated, and war had been declared just hours ago.


    We were in a bad position militarily. To the south, the Sicilians were not relenting in their stubborn, stoic defense of Naples. Our army there would not assault the walls as the town was well garrisoned. They were more than happy to wait it out, for supplies came on a weekly basis from Ancona. Our allies weren't of much help either.

    The Holy Roman Empire would not join arms against the Sicilians, they were too close to the papacy for the Reich's liking and they were trade partners anyway. The Crusader States were too far away to offer any form of assistance, and had actually sent a plea for help to us, which I heard that Doge Vitale had yet to reply to. They had their own troubles. The Papal States obviously would not sanction an attack on the Kingdom of Sicily, but neither protested nor supported our cause. Fickle fools. The Hungarians had just recently brokered a peace agreement with the Byzantine Empire, and so the full might of the Byzantines would soon be rumbling against the lands of the Republic of Venice; the once mighty trading haven would now be fully focused on war.

    But would it be enough? Whimsical and melancholic thoughts wandered in and out of my head, but try as I might I could not totally put them down; they were an unwarranted and parasitic distraction.

    **

    As we drew closer to the castle of Ragusa, the devastation of war started to rear its ugly head. Many merchant caravans were fleeing to the latest extension of the Republic of Venice; the small town of Zagreb. Some even headed to the bustling city of Venice itself, hoping to seek solace and trade opportunities there. As we progressed further and further the land became enveloped in a dull, dark green sheen. The vegetation looked as if God himself had sucked the life out of them, leaving them dry and worthless. I gave thanks to our commander, Cataldo Mocenigo. It was he who had rallied the men around him, and it was he who had brought ample supplies so that we wouldn't have to march on a starving belly. Already his presence was being felt; some of the men were feeling dauntless and confident of victory, such was General Cataldo's reputation, only enhanced by the Privy Seal he carried.


    When we finally reached Ragusa I saw that the situation was dire. The garrison was so insignificant and weak that any organized peasant mob could have besieged it any the garrison would not dare sally forth. General Cataldo immediately set up a defensive perimeter around Ragusa, and he was warmly welcomed by the commander and Duke of Ragusa, Councilor Vitale himself.


    His energetic personality had boiled down to his men, and not a minute passed without some of the sentries whooping in delight at the reinforcements. The Byzantine scouting party retreated back to Greece, and not much more was seen of them. For once, the soldiers rejoiced.

    How wrong they were. How wrong all of us were.

    We waited three months for any sign of Byzantine aggression, and none was forthcoming. General Cataldo was seen boasting to the Councilor one night about his prowess in commanding men, and the Councilor was heard replying, "If battle prowess were gold you'd be the poorest man in town!" The scent of victory had addled the men's brains, and senseless talk were being spat out every day. I knew deep down that the day of reckoning would arrive soon, and test the limits of both command and mental fortitude.

    Then it happened. At dawn, exactly four and a half months after being dispatched here, a large Byzantine host approached gallantly from Durazzo. They were overflowing in strength and numbers, but General Cataldo was confident that with the combined might of his army and the garrison, the Byzantines could be defeated.

    So he waited for the Byzantines to arrive. The worst and most fatal mistake he made.

    A month earlier there had been a terrible storm around the mountains North-West of Ragusa. Landslides were common in those parts, and most scouts reported back that the muddy terrain was unsuitable for scouting. Therefore Councilor Vitale concluded that no army would attempt to pass that way.

    He was wrong.

    A second, larger host of Byzantines had brazenly passed through Hungarian territory unopposed, and now blocked off any escape to Zagreb. We were encircled and surrounded completely; the only retreat we could make now was by sea, and the nearest fleet was two hundred miles away.


    As company commander I was allowed to partake in the pre-battle discussion. General Cataldo seemed to have lost all bravado as he contemplated various battle tactics. Councilor Vitale was neither better or worse off. A dejected pall hung over the commander's tent.

    "Around 490 BC there was a group of heroic, brave and skilled soldiers that held the line against a superior foe, allowing the main army to retreat and regroup." A knight put forward his suggestion. "They successfully held off and army four times their size, and in the ensuing battle the invaders were defeated in a similar terrain as this."

    "Well, I guess that's all we've got to go on." Councilor Vitale acknowledged. "What did those brave soldiers do, and where did they come from?"

    "Well, they were fighting against Persians." The knight stated, much to the surprise of the commanders. "They were fighting at Thermopylae, and I think they were called Spartans. Their heroism enabled a larger body of soldiers to retreat, form up properly and defeat the enemy in a decisive battle. Their situation is our situa-"

    "YOU FOOL! THOSE SPARTANS ARE FROM GREECE AND THEY ARE UNDER THE SERVICE OF THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE!" General Cataldo ranted. The tent went deadly silent.

    Councilor Vitale looked disheartened, while General Cataldo was seething with fury. None of the commanders seemed to have any ideas, so I felt it was time for me to speak up, and despite the imposing situation I spelled out my plan.

    "We could launch a full frontal attack on the army from Durazzo. Their numbers are smaller than ours, and I suppose we could defeat them."

    "Then what do we do about the second, larger army?" Councilor Vitale asked, emphasizing the word 'larger'.

    I turned around to face him sanctimoniously. "Then it is time to see whether your garrison can better the Spartans at Thermopylae."

    Councilor Vitale rose, and I assumed he was going to return the insult, but instead his face radiated acceptance. "It was always going to come to this," He breathed petulantly. "Let's kill those Romans, shall we? I was startled by his display of self-sacrifice, and spoke up for him.

    "Well, you won't have to do that if the Byzantines don't move accordingly. If they launch an attack on us instead then we'll die together." No one smiled. This was deadly serious.

    At midday, we prepared for battle. The bright glare of the Sun only added to the heat that we were already feeling, and I knew that not many of us would survive this day, if anyone even survived at all. All I could do was hope, pray, and fight well.

    Then five minutes later, a noisy flute began playing. It was time to advance. The army started forwards, striding step by step to the deadly battleground. Death was knocking on my door, and it was time to see if I had the strength to prevail and lock the door shut.

    Author's Note:
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    This is actually a very dire situation for me, as you can see from the last photo I'm most likely going to be crushed. I guess this will be the most 'heroic' of heroic victories if I actually mange to pull this off. Then what about the other two, smaller armies North of Ragusa? Even if I beat this army there will be more...

    Now I regret starting a war with Sicily

    Any advice, guys?


  17. #17

    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    WHAT THE HECK I have to fight the most important battle of my AAR in THIS CONDITION. DAMN YOU BYZANTINES!

    This seriously sucks...

    Battlefield weather condition
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 



    I can't see cow!

  18. #18
    Tigellinus's Avatar Citizen
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    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    Quote Originally Posted by Sweaft View Post
    WHAT THE HECK I have to fight the most important battle of my AAR in THIS CONDITION. DAMN YOU BYZANTINES!

    This seriously sucks...

    Battlefield weather condition
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 



    I can't see cow!
    Damn that sucks!

    Good luck mate!




    Proudly under the patronage of McScottish

  19. #19

    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    Quote Originally Posted by Tigellinus View Post
    Damn that sucks!

    Good luck mate!
    I have found a workaround...an evil one! HAHAHA!

  20. #20
    Tigellinus's Avatar Citizen
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    Default Re: [SS 6.4 AAR] The Fire That Burned

    I look forward to it!




    Proudly under the patronage of McScottish

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