[SS 6.4 AAR] Chronicles of the Norman Game

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Figuring out how to make a family tree in forum BB code. Help appreciated.

Show us your Photoshop skills!

I guess the simplest way in BB is to use bullet/indents, like so:

• Dad
  
  • Son
    
    • Grandson

[JABlair]

I'll be .. the last role!

I had never even thought of that. Whenever I see that ancillary, I'm going to think I'm making someone the guard of the door to the toilet.

My thoughts exactly, though of course in reality it is quite a prestigious position (as m points out).
Anyway... it's settled; I'm glad I got a place.
Of course, it is an understatement to say I am looking forward to this; it'll be the first real involvement in the forums.

[m_1512]

Damn, I was late... but I will still follow this! ('cause I'm bored to update my own AAR and I love England)

I'm late too dang haha, will be looking forward to this interaction immersion

Welcome, and no worries. There will be more offices soon. Also, there is the subscribe option.:

Show us your Photoshop skills!

I guess the simplest way in BB is to use bullet/indents, like so:

• Dad
  
  • Son
    
    • Grandson
    
    
  
  

The problem with GIMPed tree is that you have to make a new one whenever there is any changes. I'll think about this and do something about it. Thanks for the suggestion.

Of course, it is an understatement to say I am looking forward to this; it'll be the first real involvement in the forums.

Well, the first step is to conceptualize you character and send me some information via PM. The next chapter, after this one coming, will have those interactions and we'll discuss it via PM or on steam/skype.

The information I need by PM is:
- Name
- Backstory (brief)
- Personality
- Supports
- Dislikes

And the second chapter coming in some time.

[m_1512]

The Royal Dynasty - War Council - Council of Nobles


Tidings of a Storm

Winter, 1114 AD
London

Henry stood in a corridor overlooking the castle gardens, breathing in the brisk morning air. He watches his children playing in the gardens with two guards. The pleasant sight was a refreshing change from the petty politics and squabbles that he usually saw. Being a king seemed to be an appealing idea from the other side of the wall. But he found that it was much more than ruling and commanding. The biggest exercise in tedium according to him was the constant whining of the nobles, they always want something and are ready to point fingers at their peers.

He sighed and turned to leave, today being an important day apparently. The Royal Court would convene today and all nobles would attend. He thought that at least it would be entertaining to see the nobles have a go at each other. He left for the court smirking, thinking if only the commoners could see what really went when their wise rulers met.

The royal court convened in a hall of the palace. The King would be seated on a high chair on a raised platform at the end of the hall facing the door. The left place, he had decided for his brother Robert, and the right for his brother in law. Below the platform, on the right were places for Duke Mowbray and his nephew, and on the left for Duke Gregory. The other nobles will sit on ether sides of the halls, the lesser the influence, the farther from the King.

Henry sits on his throne, waiting for them to settle down. Unsurprising to him, his brother Robert stands up and clears his throat importantly.

“Esteemed lords of our realm, I wish to bring to notice an important question that not only highlights our prestige but also our faith. The Pope in Rome has called a second crusade, to seize the city of Cairo. What say you?”

A good number of the nobles frown, some unable to comprehend the purpose of the Crusade and some unable to understand Roberts agenda in this. Stephen de Blois, tries to control his smirk, as if he knew well what the agenda was. But Henry kept silence, waiting for the obvious question to be asked. He was not disappointed.

A voice calls from down the hall, “Why? The Holy lands are in Christian hands already. Why should more war be waged for some other city nearby?”

A crease appears on Robert’s face, there had to be some hurdle on his plans. He raises his head and speaks in a condescending manner, “Who challenges the command of the Pope? The Pope has called the Crusade, and Christendom must answer! I say we should raise an army and embark on it at once.”

This had an immediate reaction. Many nobles who were not paying attention stirred, looking at the King and how he would react. Henry merely stared coldly at Robert, yet again his authority was challenged in public. But he had a flicker of worry, knowing well his brother’s capacity for mischief.

Finally, he spoke in a cool voice, “The final say is mine, Duke Robert. However, I do value the opinions of my nobles.” He sat back, looking around at all the nobles. This time, Stephen is unable to control his smile. It was quite well done, he thought, as there was now a slight tension in the atmosphere. The nobles fidgeted uncomfortably, anxious not to anger the King.

After some minutes of ringing silence, Gregory stands. His demeanour, as he maintained it always, is cool and detached, which quite many times makes others around him seem passionate fools. He gives a small cough to ensure complete attention, and speaks in a slow drawling voice, “I think we should consider this. After all, why deny such a noble casus belli to further our realm’s holdings?”

Robert de Mowbray had already slipped into a wistful day dream about a maiden. To his irritation, his dream was horribly interrupted as the maiden’s voice in his dream was replaced by Gregory’s voice. He looked up to see the man speak his dreary voice, rambling on about conquests for glory of the realm.

In a brave attempt to mask his passion with sarcasm, he replied to Gregory, “I was under the impression that my Rennes campaign was for just that.”

“I should have made my meaning clear then. I meant expanding the realm more than just semi-autonomous regions.”

But at that moment, the hall again became a confused din as nobles began haggling and muttering at the same time. To one with artistic muse, it would have seemed like the Senate of Rome at its height. But most of the nobles had no more patience for it. Henry stood and called in a loud carrying voice, “That will do! My gratitude for your opinions. I will make a decision about this soon.”

Midnight, same day
The Royal Palace

The cool night air flowed through the palace, which stood silent and still. But not completely so, a man in a cloak and a hood walked in a corridor, heading to the upper chambers. Silently he crept up towards the King’s personal chambers. A guard stood there, somewhat sleepy, but jerked awake at the sound of approaching steps. He moved cautiously towards the cloaked man, sword at the ready. But put it away when he saw the face. The man instructed the guard to not let any enter the chamber.

Henry sat at a table, set near a window. He was poring over some maps, and did not hear the man coming towards him. The man creeps up to him, and places a cold hand on the shoulder. Henry gives a start and turns around.

“Stephen! You gave me quite a start. Thank you for coming, hope our meeting is undiscovered. I was just looking at some maps.” He gestures to the map on the table.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Stephen bends down to look at the map. “Should you not be looking at some eastern ones? After all, a crusade has been called, as your brother informed us with great enthusiasm.”

“Oh yes, I am aware of it. But why a map, you have been there. You can teach me about it.”

Stephen’s face darkens as he remembers the first crusade. He replies in a silky voice, “I will put it this way. Thinking about them in your warm hearth, with broth and chicken, and you will be amicable to the idea. But when you step into the dry lands with blazing sun, which will dry and parch your throat raw, you will think about home and comfort. And when you meet the Saracen, fierce and unrelenting, you will wonder why you ever complained about dealing with brigands and rebels. And when there is a battle, if you survive, the very sight of the destruction and massacre will sap you of your zeal.”

Henry pours some wine and passes it to him. He sighs, collapsing into a chair, “An exceptional move, I must say. The crusader kingdom has not the strength to fight such an invasion, so drag us and other unfortunate monarchs in this. What if I refuse?”

“Then our efforts to pacify and gain the support of the clergy will be in vain. But the clergy are not soldiers. They do not understand that sending a levy of spears and archers will be futile against the Moslems. We could but use this to our advantage and send someone disposable with spear levies. If victorious, we gain land, if failed, we tried at least.”

Henry gives a humourless chuckle, “For now, I think we can focus on extending our realm to the Welsh and Irish lands. The war council convenes in some months at our fortress in Nottingham.”

Stephen gulps down the remaining wine and stands to leave, “I hope it goes better than the court today, though I had the impression that you were only humouring them as you would humour children. I hope our schemes are not foiled this time.”

[Scottish King]

Between an Egypt campaign and one on the British Isles, I would choose the British Isles. Closer and cheaper. But when ambition of nobles are involved the obvious solution isn't always chosen. I like this and hope to see it evolve into something more.

[Merchant of Venice]

Were the characters in this chapter, created by the people who signed up or are they your creation m?

[m_1512]

Between an Egypt campaign and one on the British Isles, I would choose the British Isles. Closer and cheaper. But when ambition of nobles are involved the obvious solution isn't always chosen. I like this and hope to see it evolve into something more.

Yep, although the Egypt campaign is also a safe bet, after all, they are not going to invade the isles.

Were the characters in this chapter, created by the people who signed up or are they your creation m?

They are the in-game characters. So far, only JABlair has made a character.

[m_1512]

The Royal Dynasty - War Council - Council of Nobles


Femme Fatale

Spring, 1115 AD
Rennes campaign, Battle for the town

Robert de Mowbray was exhausted, not physically but in mind. He had spent close to an entire year vying to bring this autonomous town to heel. It had not been easy, spending an entire year without comforts and pleasures he usually enjoyed. He had underestimated the resolve of the people, and so dragged his army in for a winter campaign.

But the situation was dire now. A year of hardship and his army was on breaking point. The peasants from the levy wanted to go home. The more professional troops which were his cavalry and macemen had other worries, they grumbled constantly about lack of drink and women. But it was the fact that he himself missed these pleasures that troubled him. His thoughts slipped to wondering if there were fair maidens in the town.

A distant rumble of thunder woke him from this reverie. No! I must focus, so close to victory, he thought. His army had survived a winter, won skirmishes with their levy, and even beat back many ambushes in the forests. Now the time had come to take the town and end the campaign.

He looked at the gates of the town. The gates and even the towers seemed deserted. He wondered if there were any soldiers left in the town.

He turned to his captain, “Give the order for the spear levy commanding the ram to march on. The archers, behind them.” The aide nodded and left. For Mowbray, it seemed the opportune moment. True that he had calculated wrong on many counts in this campaign, but the rebels were sapped of their strength. They had to be, for we have beaten their every attack, he thought.

A rough shout rents the air, “Ram! Forward and bring down that gate,” dramatically enhanced with another more pronounced sound of thunder, “Archers! Follow the ram.” The men start their slow march. The levy was of simple farmers of Normandy. They had no great wealth, and a comfortable town in sight was a good sight to drive them to the one last fight. It began to rain, the men were drenched within minutes, treading in the sludge as the ram was heaved in front of them through it.

“Ah... just what we need, rain. Wish we had a shelter than be drenched like a fish.”

“If you take the city, we will have shelter. Get a move on there, or I will report you to the Duke.”

As the ram reached the gates, the men staggered back, expecting boiling oil poured on them. Now their sergeant was livid. He pushed the men forward, “Stop behaving like weaklings, you fools. If the gate is not open within an hour or two, I will have each man whipped for an hour.” The men, silently grumbling, start pounding the ram on the gate. The archers stand behind them, watching the walls and ready to set loose their arrows at any sight of a man.

By the time the gate was battered and broken, the rain had subsided and an eerie calm followed. The calm did not soothe the nerves of the troops who were in jitters. As soon as the gates opened, the man again scrambled back behind the ram, expecting a volley of arrows loosed on them. But before the sergeant could shout again, some townsmen stepped forward and threw stones at the troops.

All the sergeant did was give a snort of laughter, and roared, “Charge! Make an example of those fools!” The spearmen rushed inside and ran after them. But there expected by the remnants of the town’s levy. As the commoners ran through their ranks, the levy charge forward at their enemy, and even flanked them by rushing outside the houses on either side. It was now a ferocious fight. The town levy fought to defend their home, the English fought to kill enough men to take their houses.

The archers watched from a distance. They had not bothered to run towards the levy. They stood at a distance, occasionally firing arrows on the enemy, cheering on hits. A sight then meets their eye, which petrified them on the spot. An entire company of knights thundered towards the spears. The collision of the horsemen throws the men several feet on their back.

The archers start firing at the horsemen, but hit many of their own. But the master archers has an idea, a stroke of brilliance. He calls an archer from the ranks at the back, and instructs him to send a signal to the Duke. The rest of the army rush inside at the critical moment, and the Mayor of Rennes is slain. It takes some time for the town people to realise defeat and they surrender.

After a long year of campaign, Rennes is finally taken.

After some hours

The people have settled down again, and have been put to work to bury the dead. The rest of the troops are busy taking hold of the town, arranging garrison quarters, stocking the armoury, and setting up the watch. Robert walks on the streets with his aides, taking in the sights of the town after some generous helpings of French wine.

As they walk on a street near the eastern wall, he spots a young maiden standing close by watching him. She blushes as he looks at her. A two way conversation starts as Robert speaks to his aides, and communicates with the maiden as well, silently though his eyes. She gives him a mischievous smile and enters into a shack. As Robert makes to follow her inside, the aides try to stop him imploring that the town has not yet shed its hostility completely. But Robert not really hearing, tells them to wait outside and enter the shack.

The girl stood near a desk placed by the wall. She had vibrant red hair and all good looks of early youth. Robert walks to her, and takes her hand with a French greeting, “Bonjour mademoiselle.” She gives another shy giggle and walks closer to him. As they embrace she reaches for his belt, and pulls out his knife. In a flash, she sinks the knife on his shoulders. Robert gives a grunt in pain and reaches for his sword. But she pulls back the knife and starts making slashing movements on his arms and shoulders, and all the while Robert tries to push her away, toppling many items in the struggle.

The noise of items crashing reaches the aides, who looks at each other but only shakes their heads smiling. Inside the shack, Robert had received two thrust wounds and many slashes on his arms and shoulders. In a last attempt, he makes a lunge at the girl to push her off the feet due to his bulk. But the lunge misses, and he hits the table and falls on the ground, stirring feebly due to the pain. But before she can thrust the knife in, there are several knocks on the door.

In sheer panic, she throws the knife away and opens the door by a sliver and steps out. She gives a shy smile to the two men, who had started grinning at her sweaty face and dishevelled hair, and walks away inside the town. Still grinning, the men enter the shack after knocking again. Their smiles fade as they see the Duke on the ground. As the Duke revives, he raises a hand to stop the men from speaking, “No, listen to me. What happened here should be secret. I want you to take your trusted men and find this girl. Post your men on all harbours and fishing villages, she must not escape.”

“But my lord, why would a local maiden leave the mainland? She can easily escape to France, as that place could be like home.”

“A French maiden with red hair!” He snaps. Calming down, he continues, “No I think she was sent from England, and she might try to escape there. Also, I must return to Normandy in the night, no one should see me in this state. And find this girl and bring her to me in Caen, captured and bound.”

[Stavros_Kalmpou]

take that Duke! hahaha good update

[SanyuXV]

Go for the neck next time red haired maiden!

[Strengelicher]

Only just found this. Nice, shall be following. +rep

[m_1512]

Thanks for the kind comments.

Second post updated with complete information about existing and our interactive characters. Also, the coming chapter will be a mega chapter encompassing, a battle and two scenes, maybe three with a short scene about the red hair. So, will take some time.

[Merchant of Venice]

Great work I loved the bit with the girl I thought that was well done indeed

[m_1512]

Extensive Character and Setting Information


The Lion and the Hawk

Countryside, Bretagne
Third day after the battle of Rennes

A rooster cries out as the sun rose, casting warm mild sunlight on the rain-washed terrain. And with the call of the rooster, she awoke. A young girl, of about five and twenty summers, got up from the spot under the tree where she had slept. She had long flowing red hair but had only plain clothing which would put her as a lowborn in the world she lived. She looked around fearfully for any guards coming towards, then sat down pulling a stolen stale bread from the pocket.

She had good reason to fear. In her desperation for money, she had agreed for a task which was not only morally wrong, but even dangerous. A failed attack on a prominent Norman noble and she was being hunted like game in a forest. With a pang of annoyance, she realised that she would still have been hunted, perhaps even more ferociously, had she succeeded. As she finished the small meal, she felt an overwhelming need to cry. But she fought back the tears and tried to think, she had to find a way into England. There she would either disappear or find a way to Alba and ask shelter from the Scots.

She spent the entire day walking towards the east, and by nightfall, came to a stretch of woods near a village. Despite tired, aching, and hungry, she found a spot under a tree and settled down to sleep. It was too risky to steal from the village at night, she started thinking of a proper meal back home and went to sleep with those dreams.

Fishing village in Africa, where the dominions of the Moors and Saracens met
Fifth day after the battle of Rennes

The village was bustling with activity, never like it had seen before. Exactly a fortnight before, a group of men had come to stock provisions and pitch elegant tents on the outskirts of the village. Gold was being given freely for anyone free to be of service. But none of the villagers knew what was going on. But it became apparent what it was all about.

The day before, villagers saw a large host approaching from the west as well as the east. It was a meeting, between the Sultan of the Moors and the Saracen Khalifa. The villagers had never seen both leaders with their eyes, and the sight of them was awe-inspiring. The hosts met and retired to meet on the next day.

It was morning, and the Sultan and the Khalifa sat in the biggest and grandest tent in the centre. Guards walked through the camp, talking from time to time with their counterparts from the other side. The leaders had finished their morning prayers, and were helping themselves to food and mild beverages, and throwing out pleasantries, before getting to the point.

The Khalifa spoke first, “The Franks have called another crusade, on my domains. It is as if they are not content holding Jerusalem.”

The Sultan looked up, putting down the bunch of grapes. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, choosing the words carefully, “I would not be so worried, Khalifa. They attack you from fear. Your lands are vast and warriors brave, and the dogs would succumb to thirst and despair soon.”

“The great king of the west has joined this war. I have heard that great hosts are on their way towards Qahirah. I can fight the hosts, but not outfight all of them altogether.”

There was silence as the two men thought about it. A man who sat in a corner took advantage of the silence and coughed. Contrary to the two elegantly dressed and groomed men, this one sported a more roguish look with his sharp nose, and unkempt hair. He stroked his rough beard and waited for the Sultan to introduce him.

“Khalifa, he is Yousef, my half-brother.” The Sultan said waving towards him.

Yousef inclined his head in respect, “A thousand praises to the Khalifa, commander of the faithful. I know the Franks, I have travelled their lands in guise of a merchant, and they are not like us. We only fight each other when we must, but these Franks fight out of greed. This is why they need a Imam called the Pope to maintain peace and order among them.”

“Yes, interesting observations you have, but how does this help me?” the Khalifa cut in.

“I am coming to the point,” Yousef continued, inclining his head again, “There are two kinds of Franks, the ones in south and nearest to you are not strong. Their lands are few, and so are their warriors. They may take one of your city or fort, but once you take it back, they have no more strength. The ones in the north are strong and can send a big host. But these people do not like their brothers marching in their lands, and so they must resort to ships. And these ships must cross Gibr al-Tariq, which I hold as Amir al-Sagar.”

“An ambitious plan, but there are some flaws in it. One, you do not have such navy to defeat them all. Second, even if you destroy one host, they might send another.”

“I have thought of that, but I do not think this will happen. As I said before, these Franks are not like us. Some may have answered the call out of faith, most have because they must or for wealth and glory. If one host is lost, sending another would mean being weaker than their neighbours. And I did not say that I need a navy. All I need is gold to put my plans in effect. All I ask is your trust, and you shall not be disappointed.”

The Khalifa stared hard at the man, thinking. The Sultan, however, watched warily, worried if his brother had crossed the line. The air was tense as the men watched each other in silence. After some time, the Khalifa broke the silence; he clapped twice and his large Mamluk walked to the tent entrance and shouted to some men.

Moments later, two men entered the tent with a large metal box. The box opened to reveal heaps of gold coins. The Khalifa waved a hand towards the box, “Very well, I will trust you on this. Use the gold as you will, and keep the remaining amount. Do this one service to me well, and you will not find me ungrateful.”

Countryside, Normandy
Tenth day after the battle of Rennes

The girl who was hunted gave a sigh of relief. She had reached a fishing village on the western reaches of Normandy. From there, she could easily find a boat to England or Alba and hide for good. She went to a stream and washed her face, wiping the sweat and dirt of it, and a refreshing drink of the cool waters.

The village was full of the morning bustle. She even managed to steal two apples as breakfast and finished one sitting behind a house. The second she munched on walking towards the dock to find a boat. The street was full of noise, and she was pushed aside as she collided with a large man’s shoulders who was walking towards the other end, carrying a barrel. She regained here balance and glared at the man for some moments. But as she turned, she walked into another well-built man.

It was Robert de Mowbray. But both seemed to have been stunned at this sudden appearance of the person they last expected to meet. But the shock was wearing off, doing some quick thinking, she threw the apple up in front of his face. Robert eyes darted to the apple out of instinct and caught it; but she had used the moment’s distraction to run for it. By the time he looked ahead, she had turned right from the last house of the village.

The girl ran, as swift and in flight as a rabbit, but Robert and his men kept chase. But she stopped abruptly as she found herself at the edge of a cliff overlooking the channel to England. Robert reached her first, but so winded that she aimed a kicked at his legs and knocked him on the ground. But before he could get up, she kept a knife pointed at his neck this time. All Robert could do was shout at his men, “Wait! Stay back there,” just as they fitted arrows to their bows pointing at her.

The girl was again on verge of tears. Without thinking, she turned back over her shoulder and shrieked in the direction of England, “Curse you! Look what you have got me into, you horrid man! I curse you that you will meet the same end as me, at the hands of the man you plotted against!”

But the action was what gave Robert his chance. He turned around with force and heaved her away. As he hauled himself up, the girl with surprising swiftness sank the knife in his right thigh. The guards now advanced, and before Robert could stop them, loosed their arrows. The girl only gasped as five to seven arrows hit and cut into her. Shuddering and spluttering, she used her last breath to curse the man responsible for her troubles, and fell over the cliff, tumbling until she hit the water with a splash.

Robert limped to the edge of the cliff and watched the girl slowly descend into her watery grave. He closed his eyes and said to himself softly, “Look what you have done. I only wanted to talk, not kill you.” He looked up and said a silent prayer for her, and crossed himself. He pulled the knife and tore a cloth from his robe to tie it up.

One of the guard muttered, “The rabbit’s last bit for the lion,” making the other archers snigger. This stopped as soon as Robert turned towards them with a cold masklike face. He marched to the archers and looked at all of them, “None of you will talk about this ever again. If I should hear even a rumour about this, I will have all of you hanged, along with your families. Go back to your posts.”

He beckoned to his aides and walked towards the village. He spoke to them, “We must make haste to Caen; we have much to do. Do not speak about this to anyone, and find some trusted men.”

As they marched behind him one of them said, “The killer is dead, my lord. Surely the peril has passed.”

Robert shook his head and continued in a patient voice, “Non, the girl was no killer, she was a mere pawn and I grieve for her suffering. It is as William foretold, the Norman game has begun.”

[JABlair]

Well done indeed! Your AAR is more of a story than anything else, and is very interesting at that - especially with the end of the chapter being a foreboding of yet more to come. Keep it up!

[m_1512]

Thanks, there might be good news for all who wanted to participate in the AAR. I am planning to bring the Witenagemot in the AAR, which means everyone will be able to participate and direct the AAR according to their preferences. A fair note that your character will need to be Anglo-Saxon, or any origin before the coming of Normans.

[Merchant of Venice]

Can we be a Viking in England, pretty please?

[General Retreat]

Wouldn't have thought vikings would be a particularly good idea. Bear in mind that the end of the Viking Age is widely considered to be 1066, after the Norman conquest finally eradicated the last vestiges of the Danelaw in England. Denmark had officially converted to Christianity as well.

Besides the ever-present risk of France, the Scandinavian nations were the biggest threats to Norman England. Shortly after the initial invasion, several different Danish invasion fleets turned up off the coast and were bribed away by William.

William did conquer with a large host of Normans, Bretons, French and other assorted mercenaries, so you've probably got residents of Antwerp (one of William's allies) and the HRE in there as well.

When this is set in particular, the days of the heavily armed Norse reaver is long gone.

I'd be interested in getting involved in this as well. Maybe as a Breton retainer.

[Merchant of Venice]

I was thinking more on the lines of a Norsemen who's liver in England for a long time and so is more or less assimilated but still has some loyalties to his fellow Scandinavians

[m_1512]

Can we be a Viking in England, pretty please?

Er.. weren't the vikings pagan? Coz at this time, pagan vikings were rare.

I'd be interested in getting involved in this as well. Maybe as a Breton retainer.

I was thinking more on the lines of a Norsemen who's liver in England for a long time and so is more or less assimilated but still has some loyalties to his fellow Scandinavians

I think these two could work. In fact, any non-Norman who had historical plausibility of being there is okay. After all, the idea of the body is to be an antagonist to the Norman balance of power.