The story of a French vs HRE battle, told in 1st person
This is a battle I just had (custom battle, French (Me) vs. Holy Roman Empire) told from the point of view of an archer in a unit of the Scots Guard, specifically this one. I started out defending the monastery/hill area at the northwest part of the map.
The general sent us south into the nearby town to fire at some Holy Roman Empire reinforcements. We sprinted down to get there in time and made our way to a cross-roads, the outer part of the town was protected by a small fence their Zweihandlers couldn’t climb, so we were safe. Once the swordsman got into range we opened fire.
I lit my arrow and took aim, letting loose arrows into volleys with the other troops, decimating the HRE zweihandlers.
Our arrows pierced their plate armor and the fire lit their clothes underneath on fire, roasting them in their armor and causing a rather gruesome death. The zweihandlers reached our pikes there were so few they were just butchered.
I jogged up to the edge of the town and the rest of my unit followed.
The battlefield suddenly grew so silent I could only hear the even breathing of my comrades and the rain softly patting on our armor. The main force of the HRE had arrived and they sent their arquebusiers in first, the wretched gunpowder users. After a single volley our entire first line of pike men fell and I almost lost hope. That was when I heard the strong shout of King Francis, our beloved general. Almost instantly half the arquebusiers collapsed with arrows pricking out of them. Our fellow Scott longbowmen by the monastery had opened fire! I called out the order for our unit to open fire as well, sending hundreds of arrows into the backs of the enemy infantry.
The Holy Roman Empire’s infantry suddenly surged forward and clashed with our pike men who fought valiantly, but were hopelessly outnumbered. The center of our line buckled, and I watched with horror as it disintegrated into a gaping hole through which the enemy would have the chance to pour in. The Scotts Guard near the breach loosed one last wave then retreated to higher ground.
However, instead of the enemy pouring in, I watched as French dismounted knights charged out, slamming into the enemy causing a vicious melee to ensue.
The Empires numbers soon overwhelmed our infantry and again the line began to buckle. Yet again the French met them, heavy cavalry charged down the hill and trampled the enemy as though they were merely ants.
The battle was nearly won and we started to cheer until we saw a petrifying sight. The enemy general and his elite bodyguard were headed for me and my kin, for we had no defense other than our swords since our ammunition was depleted. To engage them in melee combat would have been suicidal, though we never had to, for as soon as we saw them a glorious sound filled my ears. A horn rang through the battlefield accompanying King Francis with his chosen bodyguard as they clashed with the enemy knights.
A bloody battle took place with neither side gaining an advantage until Francis struck down the Holy Roman Empire leader, stabbing him through the chest. The rest of the fallen general’s bodyguard fled from the field and I smiled beneath my helmet. Victory was sweet indeed.
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Originally Posted by CorruptAssassin
