TEATRC tribute & universe expansion
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It pays to pore through some earlier canon lore before doing your own, If you plan your lore to be canon as well. Although I understand that most would dismiss it reading a lot of them can be daunting. But it's the only way to stay true to the story.
of all the Popes, Saldain was the only one to be truly revered almost like a demigod, because of his legendary achievements.
of all the Popes, Saldain was the only one to be truly revered almost like a demigod, because of his legendary achievements.
Something before going to sleep. EATRC is slowly dieing without encouragement... 
A Night In the Life of a Death Squad
Squire Gareth tried to avoid gazing at the floor littered with slaughtered bodies of heretics. He lifted his chin enough to make his superior think he was proud of what he done, when in fact he felt a little of the opposite. If he saw Gareth's mouth was curved in a frown, his master would surely beat him, good thing he's wearing a helm.
Sir Konrad stepped over a bleeding but still breathing swadian which was trying to squirm away. The man could not move, with the weight of the knight's full plate armor above him. With one smooth stroke, he severed the man's head with his bastard sword. From across the room, paladin Gregor was looking over some barrels, or rather behind it.
"Found it!" exclaimed Gregor, "Give me a hand here"
Gareth and five other men-at-arms pushed aside the stacked barrels which revealed a hastily hidden door. Gareth could hear movement on the other side.
"Someone's still in there" whispered Gareth to the others.
"Right, let's pay them a visit shall we." quipped Gregor.
Sir Konrad made only a grunt and brandished his cherished sword, while men-at-arms line up on the door with a battering ram.
After the second ramming, the door broke and Sir Konrad rushed in followed by Paladin Gregor with Squire Gareth, then the five men-at-arms. They entered a dark tunnel which shortly lead to another well lit room, with enough light that the group did not need torches to cross the tunnel.
Sir Konrad entered the room, two guards where posted on the tunnel, but were both facing inwards the room, not the entrance, pretty stupid. The sound of clanking metal did alert the two guards, but it was too late as the swadian knight swung his bastard sword in a wide arc that caught the necks of both guards.
As Gareth entered the room, he was partially blinded by the bright lights after exiting the dark tunnel. Retaining his vision, he saw that this was not just a room, this was a great hall. And it was packed full of filaharnists. He saw his master wading through cowering swadians, slashing in wild abandon. Killing scores by every swing. Nearby, Paladin Gregor was doing the same albeit not that ferocious. Most of the filaharnists however, have with them personal weapons and soon begun to swarm the intruders.
The hall was in chaos as cowardly heretics rushed for the only remaining exit, excluding the one where the Swadian Templars came in from; while the more fanatic members charged at the intruders. Sir Konrad was fending off multiple attacks at once, blocking most of them with his thick armor. Gareth positioned himself behind and to the left of his master.
The ferocity of the templars however pushed back the surprised heretics. Many died under the blades of the righteous swadians. Paladin Gregor set his eyes on one particular robed figure on the altar at the end of the hall. He was quickly scrolling back some parchments laid out on the table.
"Konrad! its him! The robed figure! Get him!" Yelled Gregor.
The Knight fought harder and ordered his men
"Don't let him reach the exit! Watchmen, fight towards the exit."'
At the same time, Sir Konrad pushed towards the robed figure whom was still stashing the scrolls of parchment in a box. It must be pretty important thought Gareth. He fought as ferocious as his master. He might have inhibitions about the carnage that his master could cause, he's not afraid to effect the same results if the situation arises. The men-at-arms soon had the exit covered, holding back some heretic reinforcements that are entering. Sir Konrad, his squire Gareth and Paladin Gregor approached the robed figure, the man pulled out a knife to defend himself, but took fearful steps back towards the wall.
"We want him alive for questioning, Inquisitor Max would love this." said Paladin Gregor
But before the trio could approach him further, another person made his presence known. From the darkest edges of the room, another robed figured walked out. More muscular and menacing then their initial target. The brute was armed with a nasty looking double headed axe. He marched and stood between the swadians and the robed figure.
He gazed down on the three swadians. A deep penetrating stare that Gareth swore, seemed to pierce his soul and for a second he thought his heart stopped. Something about this man made Gareth's instincts scream for plight.
"Propugnator?" murmured Sir Konrad
"No, I think he's a Hand" replied Paladin Gregor
"Perfect"
Sir Konrad charged without warning. He readied for an overhead slash. The Hand of the Pope made a counter swing with his battle ax. Sir Konrad, jumped back, executing a proper feint. The brute was unbalanced and Konrad followed through by slashing his sword. But the brute was quick and easily blocked the blow. The two have their weapons locked together in a dead lock. meanwhile Paladin Gregor tried to slip by and reach their target. But the brute noticed this and quickly pushed and overpowered Konrad, Konrad was knocked back. Then the brute swung his weapon when Gregor was about to pass him. The Paladin did not see it coming, the ax sliced through his left midsection and he fell to the ground clutching it.
The Hand of the Pope prepared to give a killing blow, but before he could execute it Sir Konrad resumed his attack. Both men were dueling hard. Gareth knelt over the bleeding Paladin. Gregor was bleeding hard, but he was focusing on something else.
"Squire, don't let him escape!" he said while pointing at their target.
The target robed figure was clutching his knife and still hugging the wall, waiting on one side for his bodyguard to finish the intruders or open an escape path.
Gareth nodded and charged towards their target. The brute and sir Konrad were still fiercely battling each other. While the Hand of the Pope blocked another swing from sir Konrad, he noticed Gareth running past. With his right hand he powerfully held steady his ax blocking Konrad's sword. And with his left, he threw an uppercut at Gareth right at the spot where his visor ended, smashing his chin. Gareth flew to his right, hurting and disoriented. Gareth tried to stand up, but his head was hurt badly, and the world seemed to go in circles past his eyes, he fell back to the ground.
In his hazy vision, Gareth saw two brutish figures, no doubt Sir Konrad and the bodyguard, fighting hard. On the far side of the room, he could make just make out the outlines of his fellow men-at-arms, being pushed back by the enemy. Then he saw their target, trying to run away. With vision still hazy, Gareth pulled out his throwing knife from his left boot, he took a shaking aim. Before Gareth could throw however, his line of site was blocked by a body that fell to the ground. It was the Hand of the pope, disarmed and knocked down. Sir Konrad drove in his thrusted his sword for a killing blow at the bodyguard's chest. To Gareth's awe, the Hand of the Pope grasped at the sword, trying to stop the inevitable. The tip of the sword pierced through the skin, but the bodyguard was still holding on, his gaze still fixed on his assailant, his mouth refusing to give out a breath of agony. Sir Konrad leaned on the sword, inch by inch, the sword slowly and sickly entered the bodyguards ribcage. And soon, he lost his grip on the sword.
Gareth returned his focus on their target, he was almost at the exit. His vision was a little better now, and he took aim once more. He threw the knife. Knife flew on target, aimed for the leg, but to Gareth's horror, its flight was cut short when Paladin Gregor, who managed to get back up, ran in its path while chasing their target. The knife hit Gregor's right leg, and he once more fell to the ground.
Their target escaped. They have failed, despite the heretics they have slayed this night. They have failed. Eventually, seeing their master escape and his "bodyguard" dead, the rest of the heretics pulled back and retreated. The swadians were too exhausted and wounded to give chase.
By dawn, the Paladin Gregor, with his wounds bandaged watched as Sir Konrad and his death squad set the entire building on fire. Inquisitor Max would be furious when he finds out that he set fire to one of the buildings in the middle district of Ulm without his permission, but he hopes that'll changed when he sees the scrolls of parchment that Gregor has nabbed.
He was bitter though that he let the robed figure escape, and he was pretty sure he was part of the higher echelons of the filaharnist cult in the city, the fact that he was guarded by a Hand of the Pope supported the fact. He had Konrad's squire to thank for that.
A Night In the Life of a Death Squad
Squire Gareth tried to avoid gazing at the floor littered with slaughtered bodies of heretics. He lifted his chin enough to make his superior think he was proud of what he done, when in fact he felt a little of the opposite. If he saw Gareth's mouth was curved in a frown, his master would surely beat him, good thing he's wearing a helm.
Sir Konrad stepped over a bleeding but still breathing swadian which was trying to squirm away. The man could not move, with the weight of the knight's full plate armor above him. With one smooth stroke, he severed the man's head with his bastard sword. From across the room, paladin Gregor was looking over some barrels, or rather behind it.
"Found it!" exclaimed Gregor, "Give me a hand here"
Gareth and five other men-at-arms pushed aside the stacked barrels which revealed a hastily hidden door. Gareth could hear movement on the other side.
"Someone's still in there" whispered Gareth to the others.
"Right, let's pay them a visit shall we." quipped Gregor.
Sir Konrad made only a grunt and brandished his cherished sword, while men-at-arms line up on the door with a battering ram.
After the second ramming, the door broke and Sir Konrad rushed in followed by Paladin Gregor with Squire Gareth, then the five men-at-arms. They entered a dark tunnel which shortly lead to another well lit room, with enough light that the group did not need torches to cross the tunnel.
Sir Konrad entered the room, two guards where posted on the tunnel, but were both facing inwards the room, not the entrance, pretty stupid. The sound of clanking metal did alert the two guards, but it was too late as the swadian knight swung his bastard sword in a wide arc that caught the necks of both guards.
As Gareth entered the room, he was partially blinded by the bright lights after exiting the dark tunnel. Retaining his vision, he saw that this was not just a room, this was a great hall. And it was packed full of filaharnists. He saw his master wading through cowering swadians, slashing in wild abandon. Killing scores by every swing. Nearby, Paladin Gregor was doing the same albeit not that ferocious. Most of the filaharnists however, have with them personal weapons and soon begun to swarm the intruders.
The hall was in chaos as cowardly heretics rushed for the only remaining exit, excluding the one where the Swadian Templars came in from; while the more fanatic members charged at the intruders. Sir Konrad was fending off multiple attacks at once, blocking most of them with his thick armor. Gareth positioned himself behind and to the left of his master.
The ferocity of the templars however pushed back the surprised heretics. Many died under the blades of the righteous swadians. Paladin Gregor set his eyes on one particular robed figure on the altar at the end of the hall. He was quickly scrolling back some parchments laid out on the table.
"Konrad! its him! The robed figure! Get him!" Yelled Gregor.
The Knight fought harder and ordered his men
"Don't let him reach the exit! Watchmen, fight towards the exit."'
At the same time, Sir Konrad pushed towards the robed figure whom was still stashing the scrolls of parchment in a box. It must be pretty important thought Gareth. He fought as ferocious as his master. He might have inhibitions about the carnage that his master could cause, he's not afraid to effect the same results if the situation arises. The men-at-arms soon had the exit covered, holding back some heretic reinforcements that are entering. Sir Konrad, his squire Gareth and Paladin Gregor approached the robed figure, the man pulled out a knife to defend himself, but took fearful steps back towards the wall.
"We want him alive for questioning, Inquisitor Max would love this." said Paladin Gregor
But before the trio could approach him further, another person made his presence known. From the darkest edges of the room, another robed figured walked out. More muscular and menacing then their initial target. The brute was armed with a nasty looking double headed axe. He marched and stood between the swadians and the robed figure.
He gazed down on the three swadians. A deep penetrating stare that Gareth swore, seemed to pierce his soul and for a second he thought his heart stopped. Something about this man made Gareth's instincts scream for plight.
"Propugnator?" murmured Sir Konrad
"No, I think he's a Hand" replied Paladin Gregor
"Perfect"
Sir Konrad charged without warning. He readied for an overhead slash. The Hand of the Pope made a counter swing with his battle ax. Sir Konrad, jumped back, executing a proper feint. The brute was unbalanced and Konrad followed through by slashing his sword. But the brute was quick and easily blocked the blow. The two have their weapons locked together in a dead lock. meanwhile Paladin Gregor tried to slip by and reach their target. But the brute noticed this and quickly pushed and overpowered Konrad, Konrad was knocked back. Then the brute swung his weapon when Gregor was about to pass him. The Paladin did not see it coming, the ax sliced through his left midsection and he fell to the ground clutching it.
The Hand of the Pope prepared to give a killing blow, but before he could execute it Sir Konrad resumed his attack. Both men were dueling hard. Gareth knelt over the bleeding Paladin. Gregor was bleeding hard, but he was focusing on something else.
"Squire, don't let him escape!" he said while pointing at their target.
The target robed figure was clutching his knife and still hugging the wall, waiting on one side for his bodyguard to finish the intruders or open an escape path.
Gareth nodded and charged towards their target. The brute and sir Konrad were still fiercely battling each other. While the Hand of the Pope blocked another swing from sir Konrad, he noticed Gareth running past. With his right hand he powerfully held steady his ax blocking Konrad's sword. And with his left, he threw an uppercut at Gareth right at the spot where his visor ended, smashing his chin. Gareth flew to his right, hurting and disoriented. Gareth tried to stand up, but his head was hurt badly, and the world seemed to go in circles past his eyes, he fell back to the ground.
In his hazy vision, Gareth saw two brutish figures, no doubt Sir Konrad and the bodyguard, fighting hard. On the far side of the room, he could make just make out the outlines of his fellow men-at-arms, being pushed back by the enemy. Then he saw their target, trying to run away. With vision still hazy, Gareth pulled out his throwing knife from his left boot, he took a shaking aim. Before Gareth could throw however, his line of site was blocked by a body that fell to the ground. It was the Hand of the pope, disarmed and knocked down. Sir Konrad drove in his thrusted his sword for a killing blow at the bodyguard's chest. To Gareth's awe, the Hand of the Pope grasped at the sword, trying to stop the inevitable. The tip of the sword pierced through the skin, but the bodyguard was still holding on, his gaze still fixed on his assailant, his mouth refusing to give out a breath of agony. Sir Konrad leaned on the sword, inch by inch, the sword slowly and sickly entered the bodyguards ribcage. And soon, he lost his grip on the sword.
Gareth returned his focus on their target, he was almost at the exit. His vision was a little better now, and he took aim once more. He threw the knife. Knife flew on target, aimed for the leg, but to Gareth's horror, its flight was cut short when Paladin Gregor, who managed to get back up, ran in its path while chasing their target. The knife hit Gregor's right leg, and he once more fell to the ground.
Their target escaped. They have failed, despite the heretics they have slayed this night. They have failed. Eventually, seeing their master escape and his "bodyguard" dead, the rest of the heretics pulled back and retreated. The swadians were too exhausted and wounded to give chase.
By dawn, the Paladin Gregor, with his wounds bandaged watched as Sir Konrad and his death squad set the entire building on fire. Inquisitor Max would be furious when he finds out that he set fire to one of the buildings in the middle district of Ulm without his permission, but he hopes that'll changed when he sees the scrolls of parchment that Gregor has nabbed.
He was bitter though that he let the robed figure escape, and he was pretty sure he was part of the higher echelons of the filaharnist cult in the city, the fact that he was guarded by a Hand of the Pope supported the fact. He had Konrad's squire to thank for that.
Venitius
Count
Clearing the Streets of Vienna
A short episode in the Fall of Vienna where von Fleussringen decides to defend the local pub.
"Move! Retreat to the pub! We must defend the inn!"
The exhausted Swadians ran up the main road to the citadel, which despite its name, was not very wide, though wider than other paths in the city, towards the local public house, which had been commandeered by the military and was the first of several strongpoints along essential routes to the citadel in an attempt to slow the Filaharnist advance in order to evacuate the people of the city. Or rather the people who mattered to the courtiers and nobles of the realm in the city. As a result of this rudimentary fortification attempt, a large barricade was built obstructing most of the road, with an opening to allow retreating defenders entry and sallying defenders an exit. This was defended by several rows of stakes and potholes as no-one was so foolish to allow such a weakpoint so undefended. A rack of oil-coated logs lay at an angle on the barricade, ready to be set alight and launched into advancing formations.
The enemy came soon enough; Brigadiers accompanied by Ellisians marching up the road, up the slight gradient towards the Swadians. A rabble of professional landsknechts, poachers and bandits from the Ehlerdah woods, hunters from the Duchy of Wurtzemburg and soldiers of fortune stood behind the barricade as well as pavise shields in defiance of their foe. The Kara-Khitan provided covering fire from behind the infantry formation, though it had little effect. As the infantry edged closer, the Swadian Count nodded to a sergeant, who released the logs. The flaming logs rolled down the hill, singeing the weeds amongst the dirty cobblestone. They slammed into the Filaharnist ranks with varying effect; some had braced for impact and so remained upright; others had been knocked right off their feet. Seizing the opportunity, the Swadians rose up and gave a ragged volley of ball and quarrel.
Seeing no point to continue as slowly as he had before, the Brigadier officer charged his men towards the Swadians who managed a second volley before the enemy was upon them. The braced pikemen stabbed their foe, some of the steel pikes piercing the mail coats of the Ellisians; some wounded the Brigadiers but many bounced off their steel armour. The landsknechts and militia pikemen dropped their spears and drew their melee weapons; many of these were katzbalgers. A large melee ensued, where no mercy was asked or given. As the Filaharnists edged closer towards the Swadian inn, smoke erupted from the upper windows as arquebusiers and musketeers gave fire, their shots puncturing Thronist steel.
Then, a large rumbling was heard, significant even over the din of battle.
The cavalry had arrived.
A lumbering battle wagon, manned by slightly-armoured bullocks, captured from Ellisian lands, rumbled down the main street and stopped right infront of a breach in the barricade. The enemy had seen nothing like it before; some stood in shock, others continued fighting, some charged it. The bullocks were released. The rampaging cattle thundered into the ranks, causing chaos until they lost momentum and were slain by broadsword and spear. However, they had served their purpose.
What was thought to be a decorative dome slowly turned towards the crowd. Some guessed what would happen, and ran. Others did not. A Kara-Khitan commander ordered his troops to loose arrows at the wagon, but was slain before he finished the order. Any arrows that did hit the target failed to penetrate the steel armour. Then, the turret turned around to face the enemy, and showed the barrel of a small cannon.
The Filaharnists swore.
Then the double-shotted cannon released its payload upon the foe, churning up man and stone; scattering canister throughout the melee. The wagon rocked back, but retained balance and rolled back into the cart grooves it was positioned in. Then the repeaters went to their bloody work, killing enemy after enemy. In the face of such determined defence many of the Ellisians and Kara-Khitan fled; some of the non-transformed Brigadiers followed after a treatment of boiling pitch. The remaining Brigadiers were slain, and the remaining auxiliaries, close to breaking, followed their comrades after a quick charge by the Swadians. A new unit of Gunther-Piedmont gunners arrived, but were instantly cut down before they could reach the optimum range for their calivers. The Swadians had halted the advance, at least for a while, despite heavy odds, although the cost was high.
Despite this, Fleussringen chugged down a bottle of beer, then asked for a pen an paper. He sent his aide-de-camp to the Emperor to tell His Crazyness that he wished to withdraw, then went inside the fortification to pen a quick letter.
To Captain Albrecht von Stoffen, Freiherr von Stoffen.
He glanced out the window to survey the carnage once again. The Filaharnists would be back.
A short episode in the Fall of Vienna where von Fleussringen decides to defend the local pub.
"Move! Retreat to the pub! We must defend the inn!"
The exhausted Swadians ran up the main road to the citadel, which despite its name, was not very wide, though wider than other paths in the city, towards the local public house, which had been commandeered by the military and was the first of several strongpoints along essential routes to the citadel in an attempt to slow the Filaharnist advance in order to evacuate the people of the city. Or rather the people who mattered to the courtiers and nobles of the realm in the city. As a result of this rudimentary fortification attempt, a large barricade was built obstructing most of the road, with an opening to allow retreating defenders entry and sallying defenders an exit. This was defended by several rows of stakes and potholes as no-one was so foolish to allow such a weakpoint so undefended. A rack of oil-coated logs lay at an angle on the barricade, ready to be set alight and launched into advancing formations.
The enemy came soon enough; Brigadiers accompanied by Ellisians marching up the road, up the slight gradient towards the Swadians. A rabble of professional landsknechts, poachers and bandits from the Ehlerdah woods, hunters from the Duchy of Wurtzemburg and soldiers of fortune stood behind the barricade as well as pavise shields in defiance of their foe. The Kara-Khitan provided covering fire from behind the infantry formation, though it had little effect. As the infantry edged closer, the Swadian Count nodded to a sergeant, who released the logs. The flaming logs rolled down the hill, singeing the weeds amongst the dirty cobblestone. They slammed into the Filaharnist ranks with varying effect; some had braced for impact and so remained upright; others had been knocked right off their feet. Seizing the opportunity, the Swadians rose up and gave a ragged volley of ball and quarrel.
Seeing no point to continue as slowly as he had before, the Brigadier officer charged his men towards the Swadians who managed a second volley before the enemy was upon them. The braced pikemen stabbed their foe, some of the steel pikes piercing the mail coats of the Ellisians; some wounded the Brigadiers but many bounced off their steel armour. The landsknechts and militia pikemen dropped their spears and drew their melee weapons; many of these were katzbalgers. A large melee ensued, where no mercy was asked or given. As the Filaharnists edged closer towards the Swadian inn, smoke erupted from the upper windows as arquebusiers and musketeers gave fire, their shots puncturing Thronist steel.
Then, a large rumbling was heard, significant even over the din of battle.
The cavalry had arrived.
A lumbering battle wagon, manned by slightly-armoured bullocks, captured from Ellisian lands, rumbled down the main street and stopped right infront of a breach in the barricade. The enemy had seen nothing like it before; some stood in shock, others continued fighting, some charged it. The bullocks were released. The rampaging cattle thundered into the ranks, causing chaos until they lost momentum and were slain by broadsword and spear. However, they had served their purpose.
What was thought to be a decorative dome slowly turned towards the crowd. Some guessed what would happen, and ran. Others did not. A Kara-Khitan commander ordered his troops to loose arrows at the wagon, but was slain before he finished the order. Any arrows that did hit the target failed to penetrate the steel armour. Then, the turret turned around to face the enemy, and showed the barrel of a small cannon.
The Filaharnists swore.
Then the double-shotted cannon released its payload upon the foe, churning up man and stone; scattering canister throughout the melee. The wagon rocked back, but retained balance and rolled back into the cart grooves it was positioned in. Then the repeaters went to their bloody work, killing enemy after enemy. In the face of such determined defence many of the Ellisians and Kara-Khitan fled; some of the non-transformed Brigadiers followed after a treatment of boiling pitch. The remaining Brigadiers were slain, and the remaining auxiliaries, close to breaking, followed their comrades after a quick charge by the Swadians. A new unit of Gunther-Piedmont gunners arrived, but were instantly cut down before they could reach the optimum range for their calivers. The Swadians had halted the advance, at least for a while, despite heavy odds, although the cost was high.
Despite this, Fleussringen chugged down a bottle of beer, then asked for a pen an paper. He sent his aide-de-camp to the Emperor to tell His Crazyness that he wished to withdraw, then went inside the fortification to pen a quick letter.
To Captain Albrecht von Stoffen, Freiherr von Stoffen.
He glanced out the window to survey the carnage once again. The Filaharnists would be back.
Sir Gawain
Sergeant at Arms
'Holy' Swadian Battlewagon ( tank ) FTW!
EDIT: Can't forget that Holy!
tank ) FTW!EDIT: Can't forget that Holy!
corsairf4u
Sergeant Knight at Arms
Kill those fanatics ! For the emperor !
Bunduqdari
Sergeant Knight
Just read both Furyfire's and Venitius' pieces. Well done to both. Thanks for the entertaining reads.
I was just wondering; we've got spaniards, germans, prussians, russians, poles/lithuanians, scandinavians, french/russian revolutionaries (muron), early renaissance italians (bermianese), ottomans, mongols, scots, imperial roman remnants, east indians...
...but where's the classic French? And I don't mean revolutionary France, but good old Vive le roi! monarchy French, the real musketeer thing. Can't see them anywhere around
PS: And Wallachians. Where are those crazy ****ers?
...but where's the classic French? And I don't mean revolutionary France, but good old Vive le roi! monarchy French, the real musketeer thing. Can't see them anywhere around
PS: And Wallachians. Where are those crazy ****ers?
Nobody point at the union musketeers now, please. If they don't curse in French, they're not what I'm looking for
The Four Musketeers is a nice film, too
