AbNESIV: The Rood and the Dragon

[Abaddon]

WHERE
ARE
MY
ORDERS


Only
1 out of 25
so far
?!?!?!?!?! ​

 

[Abaddon]

To: Glywysing
From: Buellt

Good friend, King Llywelyn gladly and gratefully accepts your offer for war in order to maintain peace within our lands. My good King believes we have the upper hand over the treacherous swine of our enemy. Yet, he wishes to tell you that you need not spare any forces and lose men, for my Lord realizes your situation and understands that you may need to keep men in your land in case Brycheinoig retreats and heads south, coming into contact within your lands. As such, I only ask that you donate 15 GDP to both the land of Buellt and Ceredigion, so that we may grow our forces and wage a devastating war against the aggressor, and so that you may continue to build for your lands while you put set your troops to defend the borders and stop any chance a southern retreat. We hope you accept these terms, good friend.

Dear Buellt, thankyou for this kind offer, but we would very much like a piece of this pie ourselves and plan to attack. We will rip them limb from limb and divide the spoils!

Cheers

Glywysing

 

[Adrogans]

On the Front Lines

The Prince Theoric, in a really well made tunic with his well made knife at his belt, and looked over at what would soon be a killing field. The Ravens would feast well in coming months. The enemy had made a defensive pact with our ally’s neighbors according to reports. Well, thought the prince we will see how it goes. He walked back to the home they had built for him while he was out in the field and went back to planning with General Eldred and General Woden for the coming battle.

The planning continued until the food was finished and the session was called for the night. They servants brought in the plates of food and jugs of mead. They feasted on the deer, carrots, and pike seasoned with garlic. They then had cherries and more mead after the meal. The servants came back and cleaned up the mess the three had made. Before they slept they decided to go and look northward again so as to keep their focus. None of the three was under any delusion that they had made it this far for any reason other than the initial surprise. All that meant was the going would be a little slower, maybe a couple of days of battle once they met up with the Lothian Beorn before they continued the march north.

“To new conquests! More land and plunder for the taking!” yelled Prince Theoric. The two generals joined in the cheer and they all downed their mead. And promptly went looking for more mead, well yelled for a servant to bring more anyway.

 

[Terrance888]

Horsa Woodshield stood with 400 Militia men in the early Summer heat. To the South is the Thames river. On the Horizon, far far away, was his prize. Lundien, the ancient capital of Roman Britonia. Before him stood a small company of Anglo-Saxon Farmers 'Defending' their homes. But they don't understand. They will be liberated under Christ, under the Rood, Under the Rule of King Cadwallon.

He looked at his men. They are trained from Farmers to help gain their Kingdom Glory. They have futures, families, and emotion. They are not afraid of the battle but of death. What if they die? Will their sons be a good head of Household? Will their family survive?

It is his duty to win and take as many out alive as he can.


----------------------------------

Truvif The Warmaker he was called by the Villagers of Thames. On the bank of the Great River he constantly lead his Anglo-Saxon fellow to war, crushing small Briton towns and warring against a Rising Kingdom. He knew they are eyeing a prize down river. A great city still held by a minor Prince of Briton and a Princess from across the seas. However, what he sees as his perfect chance to become great as Britons invaded their villages. He lied about atrocities, he cused, he burned roods. He gathered together a few hundred men to gain His own glory. The Despot of Village on the Thame.


-----------------------------------------------

Horsa walked along the line. Farmers, no... Comrades behind him. He cried out, "You have left you homes to gain glory for all. Before us are Hearthens, wild but betrayed by a man who sold his soul to the devil! To defeat them are Christians! Who left for glory and shall gain it! We shall rout them with honor!"

The men behind them Roared. He restored their confidence. "To Battle!" he cried. "To Battle!" they returned.


----------------------------------------

Rank upon rank of Rood kissers marched out. Truvif smiled. They are sending archers for a charge? He cried to his men, he was totally sure of victory, "Men! These maggots dare to attack! They dare to rape our cousins! Now! They have made their mistake! Charge!"

He ran with his Hatchet and Sword. Behind him quarter staffs with sharp tips they acted as spearmen, charging and screaming. Wooden shields they beat as they charged toward the archers. He cried, "Victory is Ours!" before his mind went blank.


----------------------------

Horsa Woodshield watched as they ran up the small hill. He rose his left arm up and with his right hand waved right. As the Miltia slid to the Right flank under the ridge he stopped waving. He lowered his left hand and rose his sword with his right. "Charge!" Cried his lips, "For Honor!"


The Ashen shafts pierced the front rows. The Archers hesitated for they have killed fellow men, but they continued to charge, and they sensed it is their duty to end these demonic lives. As they fired their second volley and the Enemy was nearly upon them Horsa WoodShield charged from the Right, the Anglo Saxons are swiped from the ridge and routed into the woods. Horsa Cried, "Surrendor and you will have mercy!"

A few of them crawled out with their hands up, they have failed.

Horsa Counted the Dead, only a few score are wounded, on their side most have routed for became prisoners. They won.


---------------------Winter------------

The Prisoners are released to their old homes. Their houses aren't burned, but many new faces looked at them by new houses and farmland.

The Battles for Upper Thames has ended. The Battle for Lundien if they come with hostilities will soon begin.

 

[skeptikalz!]

Discourse and the Diplomat​

The diplomat slowly entered the castle which lay in Cilmeri, capital of Buellt. He reached the throne where his King sat, pondering and planning on ways to improve his lands. "King Llywelyn.." began the diplomat, in a low, soft voice. "Glywysing has refused to stand down in this conflict. They still wish to assist, be it to wipe out this threat, or to take a hold of more lands." Llywelyn rubbed his chin and stared at his trusted diplomat. "So I take it the King of Ceredigion and I will not be receiving the gold to finance the war?" replied Llywelyn. "Indeed, your honor.. you are correct." said the diplomat. King Llywelyn let out a groaning sigh. "Four nations against one.. the fool will not stand a chance."

The King stood up from his throne, and paced about the room, all the while still talking to the diplomat. "I do not wish to crush my enemy.. for does your enemy not sometime become your friend? Brycheinog did not invade me.. yes, indeed, they invaded my two neighbors, and I fight with them because of it.. yet.. for some reason or another, they did not invade me, while they lie directly to my south. On the other hand.. Glywysing.. I do not trust them. They wish to destroy Brycheinog and divide the spoils.. this is not why we fight this war.. at least.. not why I fight it.. the armies of Glywysing match ours in strength, and they border the seas while we are locked between nations. It is not a good sign that they wish to be so aggresive.. I would not trust them beneath my borders."

The diplomat nodded slowly in agreement, and remarked, "What of Ceredigion and Dyfed? Do you trust them?" Llywelyn stood still for a moment, and stared towards the ceiling, looking for an answer. "Dyfed.. I am not sure. I do not know much of them, or what they do, so I just cannot say. Yet, Ceredigion I do trust. We aid them with this war, and they have given us aid for our lands. We are on an even footing.. though I feel that if they were to ever come to danger again, I would not refuse the call to arms." The diplomat let out a smile and nodded once more as peace of mind came to him, knowing that there was at least one nation out there that we could call ally. "Where shall I go now, my King?" asked the diplomat. "Nowhere at the moment.. I shall let you know when it is time to head out once more," said Llywelyn as he sat back down in his throne.

"Yet, there is one thing I wish to know.." he added. "Do you recall when I had sent a diplomat to Ceredigion, and had gotten news that instead of accepting the terms they had generously asked us of, he refused and almost insulted them?" "Indeed my Lord, I do." replied the diplomat. "Well.." Llywelyn continued, "if I had not corrected his mistake, it would have possibly sparked a war between our lands.. and look at where we stand now.. as brothers... I would have had him wield the sword if they would have attacked. I would have made him fight like any other man. And you.. would you have also taken up the sword in our defense?" "Why, my Lord.." replied the diplomat with a sly grin, "my tongue IS my sword."

And with that, the diplomat strolled into another chamber within the castle. Llywelyn smiled, and he layed back on his throne, with his head resting on an upright arm, pondering and planning on ways to improve his lands.

 

[Huayna Capac357]

King Sigurd sat brooding at his throne. He thought, "My economy is poor and my people are defenceless. I have developed sheep farms for some industry, but other than that my people are jobless. I have but a small army and one scyp. Fidach has rejected my plea for military aidm so as yet I cannot conquer the rich, fertile land of Cat. I shall write a letter to the nation of Dal Riada. Scribe! Come here and compose!"

The letter said:

To the illustrious Pagan Kingdom of Dal Riada, destructor of nations and conqueror of the land:

It will be in our beneficial interests if you ally with us. Help us attack Cat and we will split it 60-40. (OOC: Abaddon, please if you can do that with the map)


Thank you.

He thought, "Hopefully this glorious mission to destroy will succeed."


The scribe said, "Godwilling..."

 

[Terrance888]

OOC: Nit Picking.
1) is the Discussion Thread also used as OOC?

2) My nation is a Production Great. It has the most GTD per Year.

IC:

Message constructed.

 

[Abaddon]

Nah, let the discussion thread die.

Thanks for the stories guys. I'll reply to diplo tomorro night.

 

[Abaddon]

WHERE
ARE
MY
ORDERS


Only
1 out of 25
so far
?!?!?!?!?! ​

 

[Vertinari118]

Am I the only one! I am amazed I though I had sent them later than most not early!

 

[skeptikalz!]

^^^^

LMAO!! I seriously laughed out loud at your post Abaddon

 

[silver 2039]

I'll send it tommw. Technically today since its already 2 am here. I was quite busy bathing in the blood of Russian soldiers as they tried to retake Smolensk.

 

[skeptikalz!]

I'll send real soon too, need confirmation with another player about something.

 

[Terrance888]

My Mail box is FULL AGAIN.

And b-day party taking long time. Tomarrow man.

 

[DarthNader]

Orders sent.

 

[Abaddon]

Thankyou Darth!

Keep em coming boys!

 

[human-slaughter]

I leave MExico tomorrow so hopefully I will be able to get a proper story and orders together then.

 

[Abaddon]

Thankyou h-s

 

[DarthNader]

In Memory of Coel Hen
​

The kings of Rheged are connected, by blood, to Coel Hen, the mighty king of Hen Ogledd. Ever since Coel Hen’s death, his achievements have been praised by the nobility of Rheged, even being exaggerated to the point where his kingdom spread from northern most Scotland, to London. It had the greatest potential to become the great kingdom of the isles that all kings now strive for. Meirchion Gul would spend many a night reading the codices of his grandfather. Ever since his young adulthood, he imagined rebuilding Hen Ogledd, having been born in it.

On one cold winter day, he was approached by a messenger from the not-so-distant Bryneich. They spoke of a war they were engaged in, a war with Rheged’s northern neighbor, Strathclyde. “Strathclyde is weakening!” the messenger exclaimed, “You could extend your coastline, and obtain the longest coast of us all!” Meirchion stroked his beard. “Wouldn’t it be splendid to expand, to take the first step to reach the ultimate goal of a new grand kingdom?” His staring off into space invoked the messenger to become confused as to the king’s seeming ineptitude. As the messenger opened his mouth, Meirchion’s eyes turned and trained on him. “We will accept your offer” spoke the king, softly. The messenger bowed and quickly strode out of the chambers. The king sat for a moment, then indicated to a servant. “Fetch me the maps.”


@Abaddon: Was the second map better?

 

[Abaddon]

Yes, for some reason I thought you were wanting to start it outside your own land, then worked out where it was.

The problem was that you cut it so tiny, I could not recognise the coastline!