Hey! I thought this could be interesting. Should this thread go successfully, I may take this game into Victoria. The goal of this game is to do my best to portray the Roman Empire as a real nation, which means, at this point, they aren’t devoting all their strength to conquering all of Europe like some lunatic. I hope in the end, this will be a unique and enjoyable AAR for all who read it.
The Empires initial ambitions for Europe at the most, are pretty much restricted to the old Empire of Justinian, especially if the Palaiologids, being the more peaceful and reserved sort, remained in power. Hell, getting them to even reclaim their pre-Mazikert empire would be an effort indeed, but for storyline sake, we’ll just say Manuel got a spine, and started thinking more about the good of the Empire rather than the Palaiologid family. Now I’m not saying the Empire won’t expand beyond their Justinian borders, but if they do, their has to be a truly good cause for it. I’ll try not to make it stale and planned. Also, feel free to offer any suggestions during the game as to what decisions I should make.
Let us proceed then, forgive my poor wording please unlike many of people here it seems, I am not a natural born writer.
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Dark clouds slowly form over a small town in eastern Thrace, signifying rain, or perhaps even a storm. Beppolenus Malakes wiped the sweat from his forehead, as he turned his eyes upwards towards the approaching clouds. Slamming his axe firmly in the stump he often used as a cutting block, he gathered what little wood he had managed to prepare. The storm was unexpected.
Slumping the wood over his back within his old burlap sack, he started back home. He lived along the Roman frontier, the gateway between Anatolia and the last remains of the once proud Roman Empire. Once, it meant something to be under its rule, but those days had long gone, the “Empire” now nothing more than a decentralized pocket of land under the rule of the cowardly and self centered Palaiologid family. They were now sparsely able to even repel the constant raids by the Ghazi tribes to the east. The Sultan, their supposed protector of course did nothing to deter it himself.
Opening the door to his home, he entered, laying the firewood on the floor, as his wife moved to great him. “Was this all that you could find…?” She questioned him, starring at the firewood, a somewhat disappointed expression on her face. “A storm is on the way, I had to return before what I was able to gather became wet.” He said rather disgruntled himself.
His wife never the less moved to put the wood on fire, in order to prepare dinner. As many of the people outside the gates of Constantinople were, they were a family use to poverty. The Empire did not even have enough funds to provide a proper army for defense, never mind a good life for its peasants.
Beppolenus moved to take a seat at the table, when he heard the all too familiar cry of his sheep. “Didn’t you lock the sheep up?” he questioned his wife, who was now busy heating the pot over the modest fire she was able to make with the wood, “I did, but the lock on the gate must have broken lose again, I told you we needed a new one.” She scolded back at him slightly. “We can’t afford it!’ He shouted back at her as he stood sharply, quickly making his way outside to secure his flock once more.
The sheep were quickly scrambling towards the woods he immediately noticed as he gazed upon them, quickly dashing after them, “Return here at once fool beast! Do not make me chase you, unless you want to end up my din-” His speech was cut off as a sharp pain shot through his spine, causing his body to go limp. Beppolenus collapsed to the ground, unable to move. The sound of thunder echoed in the ground…no, not thunder. His eyes gazed upwards as much as his strength would allow, a large horse stood before him, its rider gazing down at him.
Fear and dread suddenly overwhelming him, he quickly tried to get up, but to no avail. His blood soaked the ground, an arrow had pierced his spine, paralyzing him. The looming figure, clearly of Turkish origin grinned down at him, before plunging his spear into his skull. Beppolenus’ limp skull plopped on the ground, as the Ghazi Turk pulled his spear from it. Holding it above his head, he let out a high pitched scream, as hundreds of his companions began riding towards the small town. With torches they rode, lighting the straw roofs of the modest households ablaze, slaughtering any who stood in the way of their looting. The peasants lucky enough to escape from their houses were either cut down, or shot by the arrows of the Ghazi raiders, as they attempted to flee their burning town. Enraged by the pathetic lack of supplies this town had to offer, the captain of the band of raiders gave the order to raze the town.
Few escaped to tell the tale of Ghazi’s massacre of their town…
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Prelude, tell me what you think, and please give any advise that you think could be helpful, this is my first AAR. Oh, do you prefer the old medieval style speech, or would you prefer me to simply use modern style English, since they are actually speaking Greek anyway.
The Empires initial ambitions for Europe at the most, are pretty much restricted to the old Empire of Justinian, especially if the Palaiologids, being the more peaceful and reserved sort, remained in power. Hell, getting them to even reclaim their pre-Mazikert empire would be an effort indeed, but for storyline sake, we’ll just say Manuel got a spine, and started thinking more about the good of the Empire rather than the Palaiologid family. Now I’m not saying the Empire won’t expand beyond their Justinian borders, but if they do, their has to be a truly good cause for it. I’ll try not to make it stale and planned. Also, feel free to offer any suggestions during the game as to what decisions I should make.
Let us proceed then, forgive my poor wording please unlike many of people here it seems, I am not a natural born writer.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dark clouds slowly form over a small town in eastern Thrace, signifying rain, or perhaps even a storm. Beppolenus Malakes wiped the sweat from his forehead, as he turned his eyes upwards towards the approaching clouds. Slamming his axe firmly in the stump he often used as a cutting block, he gathered what little wood he had managed to prepare. The storm was unexpected.
Slumping the wood over his back within his old burlap sack, he started back home. He lived along the Roman frontier, the gateway between Anatolia and the last remains of the once proud Roman Empire. Once, it meant something to be under its rule, but those days had long gone, the “Empire” now nothing more than a decentralized pocket of land under the rule of the cowardly and self centered Palaiologid family. They were now sparsely able to even repel the constant raids by the Ghazi tribes to the east. The Sultan, their supposed protector of course did nothing to deter it himself.
Opening the door to his home, he entered, laying the firewood on the floor, as his wife moved to great him. “Was this all that you could find…?” She questioned him, starring at the firewood, a somewhat disappointed expression on her face. “A storm is on the way, I had to return before what I was able to gather became wet.” He said rather disgruntled himself.
His wife never the less moved to put the wood on fire, in order to prepare dinner. As many of the people outside the gates of Constantinople were, they were a family use to poverty. The Empire did not even have enough funds to provide a proper army for defense, never mind a good life for its peasants.
Beppolenus moved to take a seat at the table, when he heard the all too familiar cry of his sheep. “Didn’t you lock the sheep up?” he questioned his wife, who was now busy heating the pot over the modest fire she was able to make with the wood, “I did, but the lock on the gate must have broken lose again, I told you we needed a new one.” She scolded back at him slightly. “We can’t afford it!’ He shouted back at her as he stood sharply, quickly making his way outside to secure his flock once more.
The sheep were quickly scrambling towards the woods he immediately noticed as he gazed upon them, quickly dashing after them, “Return here at once fool beast! Do not make me chase you, unless you want to end up my din-” His speech was cut off as a sharp pain shot through his spine, causing his body to go limp. Beppolenus collapsed to the ground, unable to move. The sound of thunder echoed in the ground…no, not thunder. His eyes gazed upwards as much as his strength would allow, a large horse stood before him, its rider gazing down at him.
Fear and dread suddenly overwhelming him, he quickly tried to get up, but to no avail. His blood soaked the ground, an arrow had pierced his spine, paralyzing him. The looming figure, clearly of Turkish origin grinned down at him, before plunging his spear into his skull. Beppolenus’ limp skull plopped on the ground, as the Ghazi Turk pulled his spear from it. Holding it above his head, he let out a high pitched scream, as hundreds of his companions began riding towards the small town. With torches they rode, lighting the straw roofs of the modest households ablaze, slaughtering any who stood in the way of their looting. The peasants lucky enough to escape from their houses were either cut down, or shot by the arrows of the Ghazi raiders, as they attempted to flee their burning town. Enraged by the pathetic lack of supplies this town had to offer, the captain of the band of raiders gave the order to raze the town.
Few escaped to tell the tale of Ghazi’s massacre of their town…
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Prelude, tell me what you think, and please give any advise that you think could be helpful, this is my first AAR. Oh, do you prefer the old medieval style speech, or would you prefer me to simply use modern style English, since they are actually speaking Greek anyway.
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