TEATRC tribute & universe expansion
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Bunduqdari
Sergeant Knight
It is known that the reason for the seceding is some kind of unhappiness among the lords in the west with the way things were being handled, but I don't remember in what lore piece this was elaborated. I do remember reading something about it though.
Well do keep in mind that the HRE would probably have more aristocratic officers (though it would likely be the opposite for the IS). So Hauptmann would probably be better suited for the IS, while the comparative rank in the HRE would probably be one of the lower noble orders, like Earl or Jarl, or something.
tigershark
Sergeant at Arms
hmm.... I had a thought, Landesnechkts often used to be mercenaries aye? Do we have any idea who tended to employ them as such? If not I might write a story about a small landesnechkt mercenary band I'm playing now.
tigershark
Sergeant at Arms
soo we dunno if Landesnechkts start out as mercs yet?
Anyways, you guys want something to listen to when you write? I completely recommend this channel;
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gDg5fiMdAAE&list=MLGxdCwVVULXf6OkVACRtp28LgeiwSw7D1&playnext=2
He's done stuff from Kingdom of Heaven to Chronicles of Narnia to Prince of Persia. Fantastic stuff. 'Tis what I use.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gDg5fiMdAAE&list=MLGxdCwVVULXf6OkVACRtp28LgeiwSw7D1&playnext=2
He's done stuff from Kingdom of Heaven to Chronicles of Narnia to Prince of Persia. Fantastic stuff. 'Tis what I use.
Venitius
Count
Unnamed Siege of Vienna Piece 'cos I can't think of a title right now
"Hans..." A young recruit wept over the corpse of his brother. Around him were dying men and wounded men. Here, the "lucky" wounded with more major injuries were taken for rudimentary treatment before being evacuated. A bandaged man on a stretcher was taken out and put onto a rudimentary ambulance that was constructed to a farm vehicle. Outside, General von Fleussringen spoke to another soldier, "Hauptmann, I need you to support the troops at the Deitzef Warehouse. Go there and destroy as much as you can in the there, especially the food, we couldn't get it out in time. Understood?" The Captain saluted, "Jawhol, herr General!".
Hauptmann Dietrich Essmann was a Kaiserlicher by lineage, but his father had settled in Swadia. Essmann had lead a life as an adventurer and a mercenary but was conscripted into the Swadian Army after returning to Ulm four years earlier. He wormed his way past the Swadian officer there and after some time became a Hauptmann in the Swadian Army, leading his band of mercenaries with some experienced Swadians. He shouted at is men, resting under the shade of a large oak tree, to ready themselves, and ran off for the warehouse, with them in tow.
When he reached the Warehouse, by the front lines, he ran through the back door, and eventually found the massive pile of stored resources in a huge room. "Erich, Aldrich, Max. Start smashing up those crates. Pour any flammable liquids over the stuff. If you find anything that isn't flammable take it outside and pour it over the ground." Rest of you, with me upstairs." He ran to the stairs and reached the second floor with its large windows, where a wounded captain was commanding a group of men armed with ranged weapons. He nodded to the captain, then spoke to his men, "find a window and give fire."
He walked over to a window and stood behind the stone wall beside it and checked that his rifle was loaded. It was, so he knelt down, rested his rifle on the window sill and looked for targets. Behind him a man distributing ammunition was shot in the head by a Gunther-Piedmont Sniper and collapsed to the ground, dropping the cartridges over the ground. He saw a Filaharnist who seemed to be a high ranking officer of some sort, and aimed. He whispered to himself, “steady… steady…”, then held his breath and pulled the trigger.
The target moved a bit and instead of hitting him directly in the head it flew past him and struck another officer in the neck. He fell back, dropping his sword, it clattering onto the ground. Two other men in the room gave fire and their bullets struck Dietrich’s intended target in the shoulder and in the groin, who then collapsed into the arms of another soldier and was taken away while bleeding heavily. Dietrich swore and ducked under the sill then crept under it and then stood back up again when his back was to the wall and reached inside his cartridge pouch to fish out a new cartridge. He bit off the end, spat it out then primed the gun. He then dropped the gun’s stock to the end and shoved the rest of the cartridge down the barrel and took out the ramrod and rammed it down, before taking out the ramrod and placing it against the wall. He knelt again at the window and took aim again, and fired. This he repeated again and again until he saw a group of Kara-Khitan in their brown clothing prepare to loose a volley, and shouted, “TAKE COVER!” The arrows flew through the air, some embedding themselves in the wood panelling covering the stone structure, others falling short, some missing the target, but many sailed through the windows. Men were struck and killed. One man, having misheard the shout, had emerged from cover to stand up and fire his arquebus at the enemy but was struck twice in the chest and pitched forward. Another, a crossbowman, was hit in the eye and fell backwards, sliding on the stone, his crossbow dropping in a clatter.
Meanwhile, the artillery fire intensified. A shell blew up a corner of the Warehouse, spreading debris everywhere. Then there was a cry, “CANNONEERS!”, and multiple deep booms. The missiles soared through the air and smashed into the stone structure, throwing rubble and casing everywhere. Men screamed and died within the dust. More arrow volleys cut down exposed men. Hoarse cries came from under the rubble.
Then another shout, “FIELD CANNON!” The Filaharnists had brought up a small gun, but its capability of throwing cannonballs at the Warehouse had aroused fear among these men, who had less combat experience than those who held the walls, but more than those who were in the Inner City. Men started fleeing from their positions while their captain tried to make them hold position, until he was hit three times by arrows and killed. Dietrich saw a large group of fleeing Swadians run through an alley into the street where the Filaharnists attacking the Warehouse were, and they were butchered as they were trapped between those chasing them and those in front of them. “Time to go!” he told his men, and they ran down the stairs and into the store room as cannonballs and hand cannon projectiles thumped into the building. “Torch it.” Torches were lobbed in the midst of the destruction and they ran out. A cannonball flew past them and knocked down a tree. Within the building itself the last few determined defenders were running out of ammunition and dying. The cartridges of dead men killed on the ground floor and on the stairs caught fire and began to explode. A blast of canister killed the last men in the first floor, shredding them. Those holding the barricade at the Warehouse gates were overwhelmed by Brigadiers as the fire crept up the wooden panels outside it. Ellisians tried to extinguish the fire while Brigadiers ran in and ransacked the Master’s Office for denars, gold and any papers of worth. Any materials in the storerooms yet unburned were salvaged and dumped in unburned chests.
Dietrich and his men ran until they reached the field hospital again where he did a head count. Some were missing, some confirmed dead, some wounded and had to be left behind. After giving his report, he went up to a watch tower and looked at the smoke rising above the city.
Not too pleased with this, but it'll do..
"Hans..." A young recruit wept over the corpse of his brother. Around him were dying men and wounded men. Here, the "lucky" wounded with more major injuries were taken for rudimentary treatment before being evacuated. A bandaged man on a stretcher was taken out and put onto a rudimentary ambulance that was constructed to a farm vehicle. Outside, General von Fleussringen spoke to another soldier, "Hauptmann, I need you to support the troops at the Deitzef Warehouse. Go there and destroy as much as you can in the there, especially the food, we couldn't get it out in time. Understood?" The Captain saluted, "Jawhol, herr General!".
Hauptmann Dietrich Essmann was a Kaiserlicher by lineage, but his father had settled in Swadia. Essmann had lead a life as an adventurer and a mercenary but was conscripted into the Swadian Army after returning to Ulm four years earlier. He wormed his way past the Swadian officer there and after some time became a Hauptmann in the Swadian Army, leading his band of mercenaries with some experienced Swadians. He shouted at is men, resting under the shade of a large oak tree, to ready themselves, and ran off for the warehouse, with them in tow.
When he reached the Warehouse, by the front lines, he ran through the back door, and eventually found the massive pile of stored resources in a huge room. "Erich, Aldrich, Max. Start smashing up those crates. Pour any flammable liquids over the stuff. If you find anything that isn't flammable take it outside and pour it over the ground." Rest of you, with me upstairs." He ran to the stairs and reached the second floor with its large windows, where a wounded captain was commanding a group of men armed with ranged weapons. He nodded to the captain, then spoke to his men, "find a window and give fire."
He walked over to a window and stood behind the stone wall beside it and checked that his rifle was loaded. It was, so he knelt down, rested his rifle on the window sill and looked for targets. Behind him a man distributing ammunition was shot in the head by a Gunther-Piedmont Sniper and collapsed to the ground, dropping the cartridges over the ground. He saw a Filaharnist who seemed to be a high ranking officer of some sort, and aimed. He whispered to himself, “steady… steady…”, then held his breath and pulled the trigger.
The target moved a bit and instead of hitting him directly in the head it flew past him and struck another officer in the neck. He fell back, dropping his sword, it clattering onto the ground. Two other men in the room gave fire and their bullets struck Dietrich’s intended target in the shoulder and in the groin, who then collapsed into the arms of another soldier and was taken away while bleeding heavily. Dietrich swore and ducked under the sill then crept under it and then stood back up again when his back was to the wall and reached inside his cartridge pouch to fish out a new cartridge. He bit off the end, spat it out then primed the gun. He then dropped the gun’s stock to the end and shoved the rest of the cartridge down the barrel and took out the ramrod and rammed it down, before taking out the ramrod and placing it against the wall. He knelt again at the window and took aim again, and fired. This he repeated again and again until he saw a group of Kara-Khitan in their brown clothing prepare to loose a volley, and shouted, “TAKE COVER!” The arrows flew through the air, some embedding themselves in the wood panelling covering the stone structure, others falling short, some missing the target, but many sailed through the windows. Men were struck and killed. One man, having misheard the shout, had emerged from cover to stand up and fire his arquebus at the enemy but was struck twice in the chest and pitched forward. Another, a crossbowman, was hit in the eye and fell backwards, sliding on the stone, his crossbow dropping in a clatter.
Meanwhile, the artillery fire intensified. A shell blew up a corner of the Warehouse, spreading debris everywhere. Then there was a cry, “CANNONEERS!”, and multiple deep booms. The missiles soared through the air and smashed into the stone structure, throwing rubble and casing everywhere. Men screamed and died within the dust. More arrow volleys cut down exposed men. Hoarse cries came from under the rubble.
Then another shout, “FIELD CANNON!” The Filaharnists had brought up a small gun, but its capability of throwing cannonballs at the Warehouse had aroused fear among these men, who had less combat experience than those who held the walls, but more than those who were in the Inner City. Men started fleeing from their positions while their captain tried to make them hold position, until he was hit three times by arrows and killed. Dietrich saw a large group of fleeing Swadians run through an alley into the street where the Filaharnists attacking the Warehouse were, and they were butchered as they were trapped between those chasing them and those in front of them. “Time to go!” he told his men, and they ran down the stairs and into the store room as cannonballs and hand cannon projectiles thumped into the building. “Torch it.” Torches were lobbed in the midst of the destruction and they ran out. A cannonball flew past them and knocked down a tree. Within the building itself the last few determined defenders were running out of ammunition and dying. The cartridges of dead men killed on the ground floor and on the stairs caught fire and began to explode. A blast of canister killed the last men in the first floor, shredding them. Those holding the barricade at the Warehouse gates were overwhelmed by Brigadiers as the fire crept up the wooden panels outside it. Ellisians tried to extinguish the fire while Brigadiers ran in and ransacked the Master’s Office for denars, gold and any papers of worth. Any materials in the storerooms yet unburned were salvaged and dumped in unburned chests.
Dietrich and his men ran until they reached the field hospital again where he did a head count. Some were missing, some confirmed dead, some wounded and had to be left behind. After giving his report, he went up to a watch tower and looked at the smoke rising above the city.
Not too pleased with this, but it'll do..
tigershark
Sergeant at Arms
The last symphony
The scene is set, the walls of Vienna are breached, and the wealthy who were too stubborn or short sighted to flee are now holed up within one of the great Vienna Concert houses, the famous 1st Vienna orchestra, a group funded by many Swadian lords consisting of the finest talents throughout the land, had remained, out of pride for their city, their art. The conductor stood at the head of the great Collection of talent, the sounds of distant battle could be heard, the quiet roar of a cannon fired from far off, a great battlewagon could be heard rolling past in the street nearby, Vienna's walls had been breached, yet the orchestra played, as it always did. The building was filled with all manner of people, anyone who could get this far had taken shelter within the great building, the rich, the poor, it was a strong building, and people felt safe here.
The conductor Ludwig, considered one of the greatest talents of his time, took a deep breath, he was about to add his own contribution to the great symphony that was war. He clicked his conducting baton against the music sheet stand three times and began to move his arms in the cryptic way that all conductors do, the orchestra beginning to play like a well oiled machine, they played the great Swadian songs of old, songs to give the people hope in this darkest hour. The Music echoed throughout the hall, its beautiful, patriotic noise mixing with the harsh and terrifying sounds of battle, the two almost in sync, with the same crescendos and lulls.
They played and played, never stopping, trying to provide the great Swadian people courage against a formidable foe. But the battle had begun to turn against the Swadians, the sound of fighting was coming closer and closer, the sound of guns and shouting could be heard, and within a few moments the fight was on the streets literally outside the building, the screams of battle could be heard, blade against blade, musket shot crashing into the walls, the orchestra looked terrified but kept playing none the less, moving swiftly into the Swadian national anthem, trying their best to drown out the noise, some of the crowd standing and trying to sing, the rest milling around terrified. And outside, a single voice was heard to shout "FALL BACK, RETREAT!!!!!!" in a panicked manner and the sounds of fast paced footsteps ran past, the audience became scared, and began to run to the door, the orchestra never moving...and to the closing verse of the national anthem, the door was smashed in, sending a rich merchant stumbling to the floor, in the doorway stood the terrifying sight of a blood covered brigadier, clad in his thick plate mail....Yet the orchestra kept playing...
A more civilian view on things
The scene is set, the walls of Vienna are breached, and the wealthy who were too stubborn or short sighted to flee are now holed up within one of the great Vienna Concert houses, the famous 1st Vienna orchestra, a group funded by many Swadian lords consisting of the finest talents throughout the land, had remained, out of pride for their city, their art. The conductor stood at the head of the great Collection of talent, the sounds of distant battle could be heard, the quiet roar of a cannon fired from far off, a great battlewagon could be heard rolling past in the street nearby, Vienna's walls had been breached, yet the orchestra played, as it always did. The building was filled with all manner of people, anyone who could get this far had taken shelter within the great building, the rich, the poor, it was a strong building, and people felt safe here.
The conductor Ludwig, considered one of the greatest talents of his time, took a deep breath, he was about to add his own contribution to the great symphony that was war. He clicked his conducting baton against the music sheet stand three times and began to move his arms in the cryptic way that all conductors do, the orchestra beginning to play like a well oiled machine, they played the great Swadian songs of old, songs to give the people hope in this darkest hour. The Music echoed throughout the hall, its beautiful, patriotic noise mixing with the harsh and terrifying sounds of battle, the two almost in sync, with the same crescendos and lulls.
They played and played, never stopping, trying to provide the great Swadian people courage against a formidable foe. But the battle had begun to turn against the Swadians, the sound of fighting was coming closer and closer, the sound of guns and shouting could be heard, and within a few moments the fight was on the streets literally outside the building, the screams of battle could be heard, blade against blade, musket shot crashing into the walls, the orchestra looked terrified but kept playing none the less, moving swiftly into the Swadian national anthem, trying their best to drown out the noise, some of the crowd standing and trying to sing, the rest milling around terrified. And outside, a single voice was heard to shout "FALL BACK, RETREAT!!!!!!" in a panicked manner and the sounds of fast paced footsteps ran past, the audience became scared, and began to run to the door, the orchestra never moving...and to the closing verse of the national anthem, the door was smashed in, sending a rich merchant stumbling to the floor, in the doorway stood the terrifying sight of a blood covered brigadier, clad in his thick plate mail....Yet the orchestra kept playing...
A more civilian view on things
Divinity's War
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Eventually the rumbling subsided and the dust outside settled, blotting out all shards of light into the subterranean bunker. Valerus groaned, feeling his back where the gas lamp had broken during his fall, digging into the joints of his armor and cutting into his shoulder blade. Brigadiers coughed all around him as they stumbled about, searching for another lamp and a flint. After a minute fumbling in the darkness, a spear blade, bright as the heavens, sparked into existence within a curved glass casing. "Alright, so who's dead?" asked the Celebrant-Lieutenant in charge of the regiment, his brown eyes turned into inquiring black beetle shells in the contrast between light and darkness.
"Aurelio's out, sir, but everyone else is okay, far as I can tell." answered another brigadier somewhere in the dark abyss.
"Well would someone mind opening the door and letting in some light!?" requested Cbt LT. Heraclius testily, already becoming irate as yet another headache set in.
"As soon as we find it, sir."
The commander nodded, before handing the lantern to someone else, and ordering as he strode into the shadows; "Well, hurry up. Someone find Valerus as well."
Soldiers blundered about with their arms outstretched in front of them, feeling for the door and the enlightenment of the sun. Few paid attention to his last order, until at last one of the Brigadiers found the frayed rope handle of the door and pulled it ajar. A resplendent beacon of light flushed out the darkness. The Brigadier regiment blinked furiously, momentarily blinded before their eyes adjusted, only to begin blinking once again in disbelief as they saw the devastation wrought by the Aurora cannon. Where there were once long lines of pavise-covered trenches and dug-outs, there was only a great crater and massive pieces of iron scattered about the landscape. The sky was still choked by dust and smoke, and one could hardly see twenty feet. God's wrath had fallen upon the walls of Vienna, only to miss by a hair's breadth.
The vile mixture of soil and smog soon found it's way into Valerus' fast pumping lungs, and the dust covered Brigadier hacked and coughed in revulsion. At last, as Valerus coughed out a clot of blood, someone noticed him and rushed to his aid.
"Valerus! Are you alright!?!" cried out Julia, wrapping her arm around him as his body instinctively convulsed again.
"Kind of..." responded the Junior Brigadier in a rusty voice, spitting out another glob of dust speckled blood. "How's their walls lookin'?"
Julia glanced up with worrying eyes, looking for something to placate her wounded comrade, but to no avail.
"They're... rather crumbly, Valerus. That work?"
"No."
With that last response his head collapsed to the ground, the crest of his polished helmet burying into the mud. "Were we close?"
"Too damn close. It'll get their walls tomorrow, and we'll be having a grand time in no time!" assured Julia. The daily firing of the Aurora cannon was having an effect on all of them, but Valerus was getting the worst of it. For the last week she had grown experienced comforting her usually stalwart companion. "We'll get 'em. Tomorrow."
"VALERUS!" barked Cbt Lt. Heraclius angrily. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING!? YOU ALMOST GOT THE WHOLE DAMN REGIMENT BLOWN TO PIECES!"
"Sir--!" appealed Julia over her prostrate comrade.
"Julia, I don't want to hear it! Valerus, get up and acknowledge you superior officer before I hang you for disrespecting your betters!"
Valerus shook off his longtime friend's arm, and shakily rose to salute the commander.
"Well, did you hear the five minute warning evacuation, or did you not!?" boiled Heraclius, pacing back in forth in outrage.
"Yes, sir. Aurelio didn't, however, and only began to evacuate the dugout when I told him of the warning--"
"Valerus, I did not ask for your petty excuses and attempts to shift the blame on someone else! I'm half tempted to say the case was the opposite, and it was YOU who neglected to hear the evacuation order!" accused Valerus' commanding officer.
"Sir!" protested Valerus in dismay.
"Brutus, Maurya, apprehend him!" ordered Cbt Lt. Heraclius coldly.
"Sir!" The appeal was shouted yet again, but from a different source.
"What Valerus said was true. I was slacking at my duties, and didn't hear the order to evacuate until Valerus told me. I would probably be dead if it wasn't for him." confirmed Aurelio, trying to save his friend from punishment.
Heraclius considered this new development for a few seconds, before dismissing Aurelio's appeal. "Well, perhaps you should be dead for endangering the regiment. " The commander paused, before issuing another order; "Apprehend Aurelio as well."
Another pair of guards advanced to seize Aurelio's arms, before stopping stiffly in their tracks.
"Oh, what is it now?" asked Heraclius in annoyance.
"Are you so plentiful in men that you can spare to execute two of your ranks right before the assault on Vienna, Heraclius?" queried a new voice, emerging from a figure as he stepped down the stairs on the opposite end of the bunker.
"Sir!?" the cry rang out yet again, this time from the commander himself.
"Guards, release those two men." ordered Third Deva Elhaym as her lithe figure stepped into the light of the relight torches. "And if I hear of any such orders from you again, Heraclius, you'll be stripped of your rank and your clothing, and be on the front line when we attack the walls. You understand!?"
"Yes! Your Excellency!" plead the downfallen Celebrant Lieutenant hastily.
"Good." A smile appeared at Elhaym's lips.
"And what was your name, soldier?" requested the Third Deva, facing the wounded Brigadier as he lay on his knees.
"Valerus, your Excellency." He wiped a streak of blood from the corner of his mouth.
It could have been the flickering of the torches, or a figment of his imagination, but Valerus could have sworn he saw a odd spark in Elhaym's wolfish eyes as she turned away and returned to the siege lines.
