The Tin Isles [IB2 Conqvuestvs Britanniae] "finished"

[waveman]

Thank you! Well, I can say without giving anything away that things will soon begin to escalate. Also the map can be a bit misleading, just to clarify. For example that black country in Gaul has 2-3 regions I believe, max 4 yet they hold a large amount of land. In my case Northern England is rather poor, while southern England is quite rich, so if any of those southern kingdoms can properly assert themselves Ebrauc could be in trouble

[Lugotorix]

The kingdom in the Cornwall, Devon, and Kent area doesn't look like it's any pushover either, especially if it joined with another rival. Is that the Jutes?

[waveman]

Chapter 7, Part 2: Autumn

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Autumn


I return to Caer Ebrauc and spend my days in peace. The politics that once bored me to tears I find much more palatable, a nice alternative to years of marching, army camps and battles. But I will admit the songs they sing of my exploits in the north are very enjoyable to listen to. Great feasts were held, and the festivities stretched for many days in honor of the "subjugator of the Goddodins".


It has been half a year since I returned from fighting the tribes, and it would seem that the kingdom is much the same as it was before, with a few notable differences. As the kingdom of Greater Ængla grows in might and land our more rebellious subjects of the west and south, Cumbraland and the regions around Deva Victrix and Loidis, are becoming much more loyal. They know that they cannot fend of the Germani by themselves. To this end recruitment is easier, as is the collection of taxes. The wealthy of course are another story, but they can be made to see reason, and the common folk have lost faith in them.


Secondly, the largest strain that we now see is in the management of our lands. In only a few years the lands flying the purple banner of Ebrauc and its crossed swords have quadrupled. Finding adequate governors has been a time-consuming and costly process. Gwen has largely overseen it. Gwenhwyfar and Braith seem to have grown quite close lately.
Some months later it is again time to celebrate- Caerllywarch has surrendered to King Mor, and before he has even finished building his siege rams. I will admit I do think he intentionally built them slowly, merely to intimidate the inhabitants. In any case he is closing in on the last lands of the struggling Ystrad Clut.



At this time Aethelraed of the Seax was victorious over more Concilium forces 00049



Offa of the Seax has defeated the Concilium at Ithanceaster, and Bedca has defeated other Concilium forces in the area 76,78.





Men of the Ebrauc Kingdom have been involved in three engagements these last few months; Eiryf and Archanaud have taken the Aenglisc Burh and some minor nobles banded together south of the wall to kill some seaborne raiders under Cynfarch's leadership. I, too have marched from the Cear to destroy some sea wolves, though it was a conflict that hardly seems worth mentioning after the great northern battles.





War continues, as ever, in the north as well



Aeronwy has born me a son now; he is called Lucco. It is somewhat of a mixed blessing, for I shall have to find a way in the world for this bastard's bastard. I am able to spend much of my time with my family now, which is good for I must split it, and my older boys are just beginning to learn the lessons that they will need for life: horsemanship, literacy and the foundations of spear and swordplay. I am fiercely proud of their achievements, even their awkward attempts at combat. Soon I think it will be time to allow them to explore the Caer and surrounding areas by themselves, but we shall wait a few years for that.

And I'll put up a shot of southern Britain soon:
Other map information:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Regnum Britannae has expanded eastward into lands that had belonged to the Concillium, but they have recently begun fighting the Angles and have since stalled



The Iotingas have been foiled in several attempts on Limanae, the independent town by King Wihtgar




Seaxna has not changed much in the south: they gather an army, attack, and are repulsed either by the Concillium or Regnum Britonum. The Northerners have had a little more success.


This, as you can probably infer, is where the majority of the fighting in the south occurs, along with the borders of the Suð Seax. Here however it is mostly small skirmishing and occasionally one or two settlements change hands, although things are gradually progressing to favor the Angles and going poorly for the Concillium, surrounded as they are by enemies.

** ð is a letter that is pronounced between a "d" and "th" similar to the word "there"

[Lugotorix]

Chapter 7, Part 2: Autumn


And I'll put up a shot of southern Britain soon:

Oh, I see Regnum Britannae in Chapter 7 part I now- my bad. The faction color reminded me of the Jutes from Arthurian in Jersey and Kent. Great update, I like how you're renaming the kingdoms as they progress! Thanks for getting into this again.

[waveman]

That blue kingdom in Cornwall/Devon is the Regnum Britannae, another Romano-British kingdom, and they are doing quite well, yes, especially since they have been fighting the Saxons and the Concillium (council of Britain, the white). The Jutes are indeed in Kent but they only have a small presence there; the rest of their kingdom is in Denmark. The Seaxons are wedged in between the Regnum Britanae and Jutes and just kind of fight everybody

[waveman]

Yes, well they are quite hard to see on the maps, so I've added some more

And thank you Lugotorix. I just thought it would be interesting, since many kingdoms did get their names that way: Wessex, East Anglia, etc

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

I see Dunawt is bored without his battles! You will, I hope, be pleased to hear that I'm not. Battles are good, but I think it's good to have other things going on sometimes, too.

And, like Lugotorix, I found the annotated maps helpful. Thank you!

[waveman]

Hm, i may have to put maps like that up more frequently. And, as we shall soon see, while Dunawt is a bit war-weary Mor is certainly not.

Sidenote: I tried to reinstall Shogun 2 again and while trying to free up some space I accidentally deleted all of my screenshots and writing. FORTUNATELY I was able to recover most of them. So we might have some delays and a few less pictures

[waveman]

Chapter 7, part 3: Pacem Aquilonum

Mor, King of Ebrauc

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Finally. This was it. He could hear the war-horns sounding off in the distance.




Domengart was coming.




With him would be thousands of the warriors of Dal Riata, thirsting for Ebrauc blood. That was fine. Let them come. At least Mor would not have to look over his shoulder after this. One way or another.


He grinned at his bodyguard, loyal men all, and especially at his standard bearer Magnus, an old friend from the Capital. A frigid wind whipped by the warrior-king, but he was warmed by armour and thick furs, as were the rest of his men, all three thousands of them.


"Are you warm lads?" he called out to the nearest companies of miles. Their replies were encouragingly positive: nods and shouts of agreement. "Well then, shall we get a little warmer yet by killing some Goddodin dogs?" he called.


Their answer was a roar of approval.


Mor halted his host at the foot of a mountain, on the crest of a hill that sloped out from it. They would fight at the feet of the mountain itself. In the distance, the horns of the army of Domengart could be heard, and the voices of his men as they marched confidently east. As they crested another ridge, across a small valley, a wave of shock rippled through Mor's army, for the enemy was surely larger in numbers, perhaps even by a full thousand. The two hosts paused on opposing toes of the mountain.


While men looked worriedly about, Mor sat calm on his horse, gazing at the enemy. After some moments he laughed. "Well now," he said to the men around him, "shall we give them death at the foot of the mountain?"


They stared at him, confused; the enemy were numerous and clearly more than just levied peasants.


Almost irked by his men's response, Mor threw back his head and his arms wide, shouting: "For are we not as grand as this mountain? No, we shall not face defeat here! Only victory can come of this!"
His great confidence reassured some few of the men while most remained worried. Mor rode to the front of the army at the crest of their hill; across the valley the men of Dal Riata could be seen beginning to deploy.


He leaned forward, and spoke more quietly, forcing his men to silence so they could hear their king. "For they have made a grievous error."


One miles, bolder than his comrades, impertinently challenged this statement. "What, by bringing only one extra thousand men?"



Mor paused, considering his words. Finally he spoke, after he could see the men beginning to fidget. "I, I welcome those odds. Have we not learned how to fight these northern dogs, the weaklings they call warriors?" He gestured at the cavalry on his left flank, away from the mountain. "Do we not out-skirmish them with our horsemen, and outflank them with our heavier horse?" The cavalry gave a cheer. "AND DO NOT OUR STOUT SHIELDS STOP THEIR IMPETUS, STOP THEIR DARTS?"
The entire army cheered.


"AND IN THIS WAY, HOW COULD WE NOT FIND OURSELVES VICTORIOUS?? They are so pressed for men and time they field but two companies of horsemen, and so I say again, HOW COULD WE NOT FIND OURSELVES VICTORIOUS??"


At this the men cheered, and surged forward to the crest of the hill. Magnus put his horn to his lips and gave a great call, then cried "Death to Dal Riata at the foot of the Mountain!"


This chant was soon taken up by the army, with the soldiers chanting and beating their shields with spears and swords.


Domengart's army stopped on their ridge, perhaps surprised by their smaller foe's defiance. Time was on their side; they could wait for reinforcements. Despite this, the conditions were not good for either side; the air was bitingly cold and the wind seemed to pour off of the mountain. There was also no shelter to be had unless one wanted to dig through the sparse foliage and icy ground. Still, neither side moved from its position.



Well, thought Mor, I shall have to change that...

Apologies for the cliff hanger but due to aforementioned issues I have to rewrite some of my stuff

[McScottish]

Looks like the Charge of the Rohirrim, I like it!

[Alwyn]

Awesome chapter!

[waveman]

I've neglected this for quite a while. I should have the rest of the battle by Sunday as I will have a short reprieve from school and work

[waveman]

Battle, part 2:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Mor's light cavalry surged forward, galloping towards the enemy formations. However, instead of crashing mightily into the men of Dal Riata, each horesman drew back his arm and hurlded a heavy spear into their midst. The formations of horsemen broke right and left, riding along the front and sides of Domengart's men, harassing them with their darts. The heavy missiles pierced shields and armor, wounding men up and down the lines.


The Dal Riatans roared in fury, unable to stop the stinging attacks. Domengart himself ran to the front of his host and could be seen across the valley whipping his men into a frenzy. Mor sat calmly on his horse, patiently waiting for the Gaels to advance. He knew that they would, and though they were fearsome warriors he had a plan to combat their fury.


His brother Dunawt had not been the only one to have studied the old Roman treatises on warfare. Mor had a trick up his sleeve, and he hoped that it would be enough.


Eventually, the Gaels were goaded forward, and, chanting, they marched down into the valley between the two armies, all the while harassed by Mor's cavalry. Magnus is doing a good job, the king thought.



Even though the Gaels were running uphill, the force of their charge pushed the Ebrauc miles back several paces. Now the battle began in earnest as the two lines heaved and hacked at each other. The Gaelic horsemen had long since fled the field so Mor's own horsemen were free to pepper the Gaels with javelins. However, besides killing some warriors at the fringes of the battle, they seemed to have little effect on Domengart's force. For their part, they hacked resolutely at the Ebrauc miles, and Mor could only watch, astonished, as his shield-walls began to bend and slowly lose their cohesion. And while they were taking few casualties, they certainly would if their formations were disrupted enough.


Mor raised his eyes to the heavens in a silent plea. If this next maneuver failed, thousands of his men would perish on this frigid battlefield. "Sound the recall," he said.
A horn sounded and Mor's banner dipped, signalling the horsemen to redouble their efforts, and then Mor's infanatry maneuver began. The tiring miles in the thick of the battle attacked in a frenzy, trying to beat off their opponents with their shields and spears. Behind them, fresh contingents began to march forward and file through their weary brothers-in-arms. This was the crucial moment, the point where the Gaels could slaughter Mor's formations.




As his miles backed off, the Gaels pushed forward, gleefully butchering dozens of them. But with a defiant roar the fresh Ebrauc soldiers slammed into them, rescuing their beleaguered comrades. The tired Gaels, who had engaged wholly in an attempt to overpower their foes, were no match for the fresh miles. The battered first line stood back, gasping for breath and leaning on their spears and shields as their brothers advanced steadily, pushing the Gaels back down the hill and leaving behind them a carpet of dead and dying. At this point Mor gestured for another signal to be given, then kicked his horse into a trot. This was the decisive moment. He could feel it. "Charge them!"


The King's bodyguard crashed violently into the packed ranks of the Gaels, slaughtering them with abandon. The lighter marchog saefwyfar hurled their last javelins and followed their king. The Gaels, hopessly pressed on all sides, threw down their weapons and attempted to flee, but the Ebrauc horsemen rode them down with ruthless efficency. Cornered under a cliff face, Domengart and his household warriors died fighting, taking two miles for every one of them that fell, but they were eventually all killed.
Mor howled his triumph. Finally! Finally he had fought another great battle, a battle worthy of praise in epic poems, a battle to increase the standing of Ebrauc, a battle the equal of Dunawt's victories over the Goddodins. The Dal Riatans were broken, and he was their conqueror.

[waveman]

So technically this is up on Snday, as I promised! (California time....)

Next update: We return to Cynfyn the diplomat, doing some not-so-diplomatic things!
And THIS one won't take nearly a month to get up!

[waveman]

Chapter 9, Part 1: sociorum et hostibus

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Dunawt of Y Strafi, Caer Ebrauc


After defeating the Gaels of Dal Riata, our kingdom was quiet for some time. Mor's siege was successful; his starving enemies charged out of their fort and met their deaths proudly on Ebrauc spears just outside of their walls. After his previous victory in the field against Dal Riata's Domengart, Mor's report was quite brief:

The enemy sallied forth, and I lined my miles in shieldwalls outside the gates. When the enemy attacked them, I rode around the flanks with my horse, and there we charged them and peppered them with darts until all were broken or fallen, and rode down the fleeing soldiers.


Upon hearing this report in Caer Ebrauc, our nobles and council members responded with a mix of reactions ranging from amused smiles to scoffs and rolled eyes; our King is a glory-seeker.

In the meantime, more Gaels have landed in Dyfed, south of Guened, but were slaughtered by Drustan Britannicus of Guened, and Artorius the Horseman has laid siege to the council-held Aquae Solis. Culbwch of Ystrad Clut has defeated the Pictavi, but in doing so has again marched through our lands. Ystrad Clut's impudence knows no bounds.

*******************************************************************


Summer 462
As I sit in the throne room of Caer Ebrauc, listening to the petty disputes of our citizens, I find my mind wandering. My boys Owain and Gwrast are sitting in a corner, playing with wooden soldiers carved for them by one of my household bodyguards, Meriadoc of the Brigantes. As I half-listen to the complaints of a shepherd against farmer, and their families' oaths, and watch the lines of wooden warriors shuffle about, my mind is in truth thinking of three things.


The first is the turmoil in the south. These past few months have been tumultuous. Guened's latest bid to unite the mountain princedoms has failed. The Aenglisc war chief Tytila has had much success of late; his name is now as well-known as his kinsman Cyneweard. Twice did Tytila defeate Concillium forces under Elidir (of course, not our Elidir) by Cairloyw, in the west, forcing him to withdraw behind its walls. Unperturbed, Tytila then lay siege. He repulsed an attack by other Concillium forces led by an untried commander called Benli, and then took and sacked Cairloyw. Elidir was slain in this battle. Then also Ealdgyth sent a warhost to lay siege to Cairguricon.
The Seaxna have had also much success. Wigstan of Suth Seaxna defeated Prince Artorius in battle, and his cousin Ricbert defeated Casticos of Caergrwant's Concillium forces by Aquea Solis. In the small lands of the Norht Seax, Wigbert and Osbert successfully defeaetd Concillium forces and took a fort. They now control the coast north of the Tamensas.


However, as the seasons changed, King Cunedda of Guened, myfather's old ally, marched from his capital and defeated Ealdgyth's captain, thereby lifting the Aenglisc siege of Caerguricon in a large battle east of the city.


The second thing on my mind is the north: my brothers Cynfyn and Mor have been in talks with the Pictavi - they mean to strike at Ystrad Clut for their offenses toward us. It remains to be seen what will happen, but I think we will soon have another small war in the north.


The last thing on my mind is that I have grown restless. So many great events are occuring: the wars in the south, the maneuvers north and on the mainland titannic clashes between the might of Roma and the fury of the Germanic tribes. The Gallic Romans have even put down the majority of their rebellions.


I will not say that I have not enjoyed this peace, for I have. It is nice to be in my own lands again, with a warm hearth and a warm bed and wife, or, ah, Aeronwy, and to see my children growing and learning. But I have a duty to my kingdom, to the people of these Isles. We can not be overrun by these Aenglisc, Iotingas or Seax, or let petty lords in the north defy us.


As Owain pushes his line of soldiers towards his brother's, that is what I am thinking of.


***********************************************************************




Cynfyn, Decembre 462, some God-forsaken hill in the frozen wilderness


Yes, Cynfyn had expected a nice reward for his part in the diplomatic talks between the Pictavi and Mor



The gold he had recieved was very welcome. With it he could finish the villa he was building for his family.


What wasn't as welcome was being invited to join the King's personal retinue as they marched through the barren northern wasteland in search of an army of half-heathen Ystradi to crush.


Endless days walking through the snow, but then one did not lightly turn down the warrior-king.






Cynfyn was wrested from his thoughts by a great commotion. Officers were bellowing at their men to form ranks, to run up the great hill in front of them.
Why? Why not just go around?


"Cynfyn! To me!" barked the king. "The enemy is here!" Oh, of course.


And so they were. Thousands of Ystradi had found the great Pictavi army and, intelligently, their leader had retreated south. Strait into the army of Ebrauc.
Soon, thanks to the constant drilling, the miles had formed defensive lines at the hilltop. Not one man wavered in the shieldwalls, despite the fact that they were outnumbered and attacked from two sides. The northerners soon engaged them, and both lines heaved against their assailants.

Mor had roughly 2500 men deployed in a double shieldwall; the horsemen were next to useless in such a defensive battle. 3000 Ystrady attacked from the north, 1000 from the south, and 4000-strong Pictavi host was persuing the Ystradi from the north

"Push! ... Push! ... Push! ..."


Somehow, the outnumbered miles were not only holding the Ystradi at bay, in some places they were even pushing them back down the hill. Cynfyn was impressed.
Then he was riding with Mor's bodyguard. He looked at the man he new best, Magnus, and asked what the hell was happening.




"They enemy pushed the flank, they did an all-around, we have to see them off! Handsy-like!"


Magnus grinned and shook his spear, shoved another into Cynfyn's hands, then rode on ahead with a whoop.


The hell does that mean? All around hands?


Well, Cynfyn would ride with these warriors. It might not have been his calling, but no man would say he was a coward. Then he saw what he assumed Magnus had been talking about: a large company of enemy horsemen had ridden around the hill and was poised to ride between the two Ebrauc shieldwalls. It could turn the balance of the battle, for the Pictavi had been sighted but were being delayed by the Ystrad Clut rearguard.


With a war cry, Mor's bodyguard charged the lightly armored northern horsemen, punching through their ranks. Then, they wheeled around and engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Cynfyn marveled at the impact he had felt as his spear had hit home on an enemy horseman, punching through the man's leather armor and kicking him from his horse. The diplomat drew his sword and engaged another rider, distracting him while Magnus rode up and impaled the man with his spear. Another rider raised a horn to his lips and gave a call. In moments a group of miles broke from the main lines and joined the fray.


His right arm numbed by a sword cut, Cynfyn drew back, marveling at the tactics he had seen this day. The double shieldwall, the quick deployment, the cavalry punching through the enemy to prevent their escape while infantry came to join the fight, the coordination with the Pictavi, who by now were fighting their way up the hill, slaughtering the rear of the Ystradi.




And the rush of battle. Ah, brother, I can see how you revel in this.


Soon, the enemy had broken. The exhausted men of Ebrauc stood, sat, collapsed, panting, while the Pictavi chased the enemy fugitives through the forest. A young noble from the Pictavi made his way over to Mor and Cynfyn; he was covered in blood. Cynfyn recognized him as Taran, with whom he had discussed the terms of the joint war against Ystrad Clut.


"Caltram of Fotla and King Drest send their greetings, my lords," he said with a broad smile. "And now their congratulations," he said, gesturing at the battlefield and smiling all the more broadly. "My lord Caltram regrets only that he has been wounded too greatly to have participated in this momentous victory."


Mor nodded. "Aye, and we missed him, though his fame needs no more victories. And we are glad to fight alongside you." The two men clasped arms, then continued to talk of continueing the subjugation of Ystrad Clut.


Cynfyn walked away, going over the day's events in his head. How had it gotten to sunset? Well, at least he could get back to his normal business, after all, he had a ship to Hibernia to catch. Still, he could proudly say now that he had fought in one of the battles for the north. He stooped and scooped up an elegant Goddodin sword. A nice souvenir to match the scar that would surely develop on his arm.

[Alwyn]

Great chapters ! I enjoyed the tense moment in the previous update when Mor ordered his tired men to fall back, and the way that Cynfnyn's thoughts wandered over wider events before being suddenly brought back to the present.

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

Wonderful stuff!

Your characterisation is as good as ever, and the battle against the Dál Riata was amazing!

[Roman Heritage]

Ok, just had time to catch up with those chapters I missed, and, as usual, really nice job, waveman! If there's anything I should set forth as something I liked, it would be that line where Oowain and Gwrast's toy soldiers remind Dunawt of those bigger struggles around him. I don't know why, it really was a nice touch.

Also, those battles are HUGE! How big is the average unit? They must take a heavy toll on your hardware

[waveman]

Thanks! It's good to hear from you again. I believe a militia unit is ~240 men, a professional unit ~180-200 men, Cav is 40-80ish, and elite infantry is 60-100 men. 1 stack iz usually around 2500-3500 usually, but I get ganged up on a lot! It gets a bit rough in the heart of a melee

[waveman]

The Reluctant Warrior.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The king gazed over his lands from the tower. Soon these lands would be ravaged by war. He knew this. Yet what could a man do but stand by his allies, no matter how bleak the situation?


"For if we abandon our oaths, we are no better than animals," he whispered to himself.


"Sir?" one of the guards with him asked, not sure if he he had been meant to hear.


"It is nothing, Eiryf," the king replied.


They stood there for some time, the king and his five guards. Finally, the King turned to them. They looked at him expectantly.


"Eiryf," he said.


"Lord?"


"Send out a message to our chiefs. Call the banners."


Eiryf and the other guards bowed and nodded somberly. "Aye lord."


"Then leave here for a while, I wish to have peace."
The guards left.


King Gwalchmai stood there for over an hour, staring at his beloved hills. They had been the refuge the Goddodin Tribes had needed in the last war against Ebrauc, but he doubted they would be enough for this... whatever it was. Rebellion was how it would most likely be seen. Ebrauc was too strong; his only hope was that their forces were too divided.
But his kingdom and Ystrad Clut were joined by kinship and countless years of friendship; he had no choice but to stand by them.
"Why, father, did you feel you had to wage your war to the bitter end?" he asked for the thousandth time.


***********************************************

Elidir was exulatant. Dunawt had named him Warden of the North, and in his near-paranoia had insisted that Elidir employ an extensive spy network. Elidir had thought it ridiculous, at least until the news of Gwalchmai's Rebellion came to him. With this tip he summoned his men, over two thousands, and marched into the last refuges of the Goddodins and swept away all resistance. He still admired Gwalchmai, however, and petitioned Dunawt to let the man keep his life and lands, for surely the power of the Gododdins was broken for this genereation at the least. While Mor fought his war against the Gaels on the misty coast, Dunawt sent a messenger that agreed to Elidir's request - on the condition that the Goddodins pay an even heavier tribute.

Here is a short update that I recovered; I was going to turn this into a longer story arc but it was over quite fast