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Mordvin civil-war! :eek:
Let it be stopped!
So Mustajoki shall be prussian?
Or shall it be like Elsass-Lothringen between France and Germany irl, a cause for infinite bloodshed? :rolleyes:
 
Why couldn't of this happened? Surely, the Mongolian arrival is still disastrous.

Or Prussia is just that awesome.
The Mordvins were just that awesome. Both hordes did very, very poorly. But a united Seljuks and the massive Mordvin wall just didn't let anything through.

Mordvin civil-war! :eek:
Let it be stopped!
So Mustajoki shall be prussian?
Or shall it be like Elsass-Lothringen between France and Germany irl, a cause for infinite bloodshed? :rolleyes:
We'll just have too see.

I am trying something new for the next update, so stick around,it should be up tonight or tomorrow.
 
Homelands
Chapter Twenty One: Dawn of War
Part 2


Prelude:
With war in Russia on the horizon for Prussia, Western Europe was facing the most increase in its own wars. In 1207 troops of the Caliph of Toledo sacked Cork in southern Ireland. Soon all of the British Isles were subjects to Muslim raids and attacks. At the head of many raids were the Carthaginians, hired by the Caliph. Their admiral was Louis Muhammad bin Henri Abdullah de Bourbon, a man of French descent but of a strict Muslim family. He led many daring raids, usually personally, into England and Wales. Even with the Carthaginians supplying ships, the bulk of the land forces were that of the Caliph: Istimari and Vasques (from Iberia); and Arles (from southern France). Unlike France, Italy and Iberia, there was little effort from the Caliph to settle the Isles, instead the new territories were used for farming purposes, supplying raw materials to the Caliph as well as a new source of soldiers to continue fighting England. Many speculate that the hope of eventually converting the Isles was part of the plan of the Caliph, but by the time that the last Emir of the Isles was reconquered in the early fourteenth century only a merger amount of native Christians had converted to Islam. Instead, it left Ireland and Scotland centers of Revisionism and resistance to Islamic subjugation.

TheIsles.png

The Isles at the height of Islamic rule circa 1230. In green is the Caliph, ruled from Toledo with the regional capital in Dublin. In Blue Scotland, in Red England.

April 18th, 1207

A cool breeze blew over the decks of the raiding ships. The large square sail flapped gently in the breeze and the men rowed consistently as they had been trained. These ships were simply Arab reenvisions of Viking boats so renowned in the North. In the distance a thin line represented land, England, ripe for raiding and plunder. On the bow of the ship stood a colorful figure, wild blond hair trailing out a loosely wrapped blue turban, pulling at a long mustache.

deBourbon.jpg

Emir Louis Muhammad bin Henri Abdullah de Bourbon, Lord of Carthage

"Commander!" shouted the first mate, "We are almost to Wessex, sirrah."

"Good, good!" Louis de Bourbon stepped off the bowsprit and walked down the center of his flag ship. Once at the bow he looked and saw the twenty ships following his. He waved his arms to get their attention and then cupping his hands around his lips yelled "LAND HO!" The other commanders heard his call and ran to spread the message to ships too far out to hear him. Ahead of them a bank of fog shrouded the beach in mystery, so as Louis walked back to his first mate he tried to peer into the fog looking for a sign that unfriendly troops were waiting for him. As the drew closer a lone figure seemed to stand out on the beach.

A sailor behind Louis pulled out a bow and fired a single arrow at the guard, hitting him the chest and allowing them to easily glide onto the beach. Hitting the shore the boat slid easily up onto solid ground and men jumped off and secured her to the land. Louis was one of the first off and up into a tree looking for more guards. No one. Within a few minutes more ships were hitting the beach, dropping anchors to hold their ships fast to the sand. He looked around and saw nothing resisting their movement and nothing coming their way, so he slipped back down the ground and motioned for troops to follow. He had with him almost six hundred Carthaginian raiders with him, each a machine of war.

"Come quickly!" Louis hissed. Everyone followed him, swords drawn. They came to a hill overlooking a the city of Winchester. "There, they have their defenses down! Raise the banner!"

"Yes sir!" The first mate pulled out a curved horn and sounded the attack, inciting panic in the city below. Their flag was pure red banner and when it was flown it meant battle. Louis came upon a helpless shop and taking a torch lit it on fire. The point was not conquest, nor was it depopulation. It was about plunder and fear. Around the corner a local militiaman and a Carthaginian were locked in hand to hand combat, but Louis cut the Englishman across the back, ending the fight prematurely and opening up another raider for pillaging.

The admiral found a blacksmithy stocked full and shouted, "Bring a cart, we can make a fortune off of these!" Two men ran over with a hay cart that had been emptied of hay and helped Louis fill it with swords and bars of iron. "Quick, get these back to the ships!" With the men headed out, Louis headed back into the fray. At the center of town the church was on fire, the Carthaginians were running out of the building taking with them paintings and artifacts. Everywhere women and children ran screaming from the raiders. Louis tried keeping control over his men, keeping them on task and away from the English women.

"Sir, troops!" a cry came. Louis followed the voice over to a skirmish between fifty or so English soldiers and forty raiders. Raiders were flocking from all over to help, including their commander who dashed in sword drawn and cut a man down within a few seconds. He rallied his raiders and ended the light English resistance. In the center of town a cry came up, the raiders had reached the city center which included the recent tax collections. Carthaginian troops ran past carrying bags of gold coins and other goods. This raid was going well. Louis watched calmly as the city around him burned and headed toward his first mate.

"Mate, I believe it is time for this raid to end, we need to get back to Normandy by night fall,
he said, putting his sword away and placing his hands on his hips.

"Right away sir." The mate pulled out his horn and blew it twice. Raiders began heading toward the ships, bringing with them their loot and other goods that would help feed the mercenaries back in France. Louis climbed into his flag ship and watched as people did the same. In a few minutes everyone was in and the boats were back out in the Channel.

Behind them a pillar of smoke wafted into the air, billowing and churning. On board they counted their losses, only five for his ship, and began to figure how much they had made in the raids.

"Admiral, some of the men are wondering when we are to sail again for home," the first mate reported.

"Soon, we have contracts to fulfill! And the money is good, with this kind of pickings we shall turn Carthage into the supreme power of the Mediterranean! But when we do return, we shall be heroes of our home! Now come, quickly to Normandy so we might rest." Everyone agreed, small steps would achieve their goals. Admiral Louis was also their King, a glorious leader, feared throughout the western world. But he knew that the world was staking up against him. The English would eventually not be outsmarted and he would get caught and he would be executed. Simple as that, all inevitable. Thus was his life. But for tonight he was safe, he would land in Normandy and he could just leave. He and his men could just head home and be done with it all.

But they couldn't. Impossible. The spirit of adventure was like a drug, once in the veins of a man it was a high that could never be explained or even resisted. Tomorrow they would rest, rebuild their numbers from extras they brought and then would soon be raiding England again. They had two more years on their contract, but Louis knew that soon enough they would be done. So far away. Done for the night, Louis excused himself to a small room at the center of the ship to sit down and relax, he had nothing to do until they were on land and gathered all their loot together to be divided and consumed.

Back in Winchester the flames were being fought and a parade of flags came toward the town. At its head was Viggu Iziaslavich, King of England. His face was set in a scowl as he saw the carnage and surveyed what was once the capital of England. The city was dead, a shell, a corpse burning in a ditch after a plague. His expression didn't change, but he vowed that next time de Bourbon would not be so lucky.
 
awesome raids!
Not to kill much locals but take their riches is actually quite a good strategy. Left alive, they can get rich back in 5-10 years, after which they can be plundered again. :D
 
And so the Infinite War continues. Awesome.
So it does, and it is, in fact, awesome. :cool:

awesome raids!
Not to kill much locals but take their riches is actually quite a good strategy. Left alive, they can get rich back in 5-10 years, after which they can be plundered again. :D
And now you're thinking like a Carthaginian. :D
 
Chapter 21, Part 2 obviously states that this upcoming war will be in Russia, but I am getting a feeling that war might also be brewing against Muslim Europe.
Time will tell.

Muslim Europe is growing, a step by step.

How many of the French are Muslim? and the Italians?
It is hard to say, de Bourbon was the Emir of the Carthaginians, made up of French and Catalan Muslims that fled the German advance in the 1180's and 1190's. So the percentage of Muslims in France went down because most left.

Province wise it is hard to say, in the early 1200's most southern provinces are Muslim, and the Northern Provinces are mostly Christian. The Isles and Two Sicilies are Muslim, but the rest of Italy is Christian. All of this assumes we are talking about province religion and not owner religion.

A good map to refer to is in Part 5 of Chapter 20.
 
I was re-reading some stuff and a long, long time ago I was asked by czam to translate somethings, and now I can actually do that!

"How are you?"
ká bist tu?

"Im well, thank you."
æs bin lábs, paldátu.

"Paradox games rock!"
pærádox plegæs sie gros!

"Let's have a pint of Guinness!"
we zoildáju ien kæác ginæs dzætæt!
 
I was re-reading some stuff and a long, long time ago I was asked by czam to translate somethings, and now I can actually do that!

"How are you?"
ká bist tu?

"Im well, thank you."
æs bin lábs, paldátu.

"Paradox games rock!"
pærádox plegæs sie gros!

"Let's have a pint of Guinness!"
we zoildáju ien kæác ginæs dzætæt!
I am personally amazed on how the language is coming along. I mean, conlangs, however useless, are indeed a feat of it's own.

I mean, you know how I feel about Brithenig, and that gives me a whole new respect for Anglobaltikja.
 
I am personally amazed on how the language is coming along. I mean, conlangs, however useless, are indeed a feat of it's own.

I mean, you know how I feel about Brithenig, and that gives me a whole new respect for Anglobaltikja.

Thanks, they are not all useless, but definitely those for the fiction genres are. Sorry Tolkien.
 
Homelands
Chapter Twenty One: Dawn of War
Part 3


Prelude:
In 1207 a small group of Russians revolted against the Mordvin Empire, which was at its peak under the Narva Dynasty. Prussia saw the revolt as a chance to conquer The region surrounding Moscow, an important region for those trying to control the head waters of the Volga as well as the surrounding country side. In all the war's true purpose was to put the chisel to the Mordvin Empire and begin the slow process of reversing its expansion. However, the Mordvins left an permanent mark on the soul of Russia, which was now more Mordvin than Russian. The Russian people crowded into cities like Tver and into regions like Azov and the Ukrainian provinces. Between Prussian and Mordvia was a major province of the Mordvin Empire, the Moscovite Region. The Muscovites, a Russian people headed by a Merya Prince tried to usurp the throne of Mordvia after the kingdom changed ruling houses. When they failed to secure the throne, they were able to secure their independence with backing from Norway and Sweden. By the end of the year Meinekinus had secured a claim to the region as the Prince of Kiev, Protector of the Russians; with this claim he invaded the Moscovite region and secured Moscow for the Prussia.

June 18th, 1208

Meinekinus sat before the Council of Moscow, the ruling body of the city. It was made up of six Russians and four Mordvins. They spoke quietly in the presence of the conquering King. As the Prince of Kiev it was his duty to defend all Russians from outside tyranny, but it was clear that Prussia itself was an outside power, and a despotic one at that. But duty is duty, one Russian pointed out. It was clear to Meinekinus that the divides between the Russians and their Mordvin overlords were deep, and even in a century had not healed at all. The Christian Russians welcomed the invading Prussians as liberators, once again hanging icons from their houses and building the first church in the history of Moscow. So before the Council the debate was really out of everyone's hands but Meinekinus. He had the soldiers, he had the resources, he had the support of the people and he had the support of the church.

MordvinWar.png

Prussia in burgundy, Mordvia in green and Muscovy in Blue. [/SIZE
]

"You claim to be defending the Russian people, Prussian King," spoke the eldest Mordvin, "but you bring war to their lands and hunger to their bellies."

"I brought war only to your country and your Prince, who had no right to these lands, nor did his predecessors. The hunger of the Russian people was caused by you, stealing their food to feed armies of oppression against the forces of liberation," Meinekinus said coolly, calmly, trying to mask his own fears and uncertainties as a ruler under grandiose ideas and plans.

"We Russians agree, the Prince of Kiev has lived up to his duty and we have been saved. The Russians wanted freedom of Mordvia, but not in the form of a new Pagan lord!" One Russian said. The others nodded.

"Silence, we'll have none of this in the Council!" The elder Mordvin shouted, "The Russian members may be dismissed!" Meinekinus was quick to release a fight was brewing when he saw the Russians draw daggers and stand defiantly between him and the pagans.

"Never! It is you who are the play things now! We Russians side with our liberators, you are overlords!" The Prussian King felt the hand of his body guard pulling him up and out of his seat. And not much later a brawl began inside the Council. A scream and the violence stopped. At the center of the room the elder Mordvin lie dead in an expanding pool of his own blood. Meinekinus tried to hide the shocked look on his face, but the Russians advanced on the remaining Mordvins who in their terror leaped over chairs and tables to escape their certain doom.

"Stop this!" Meinekinus shouted, "Guard arrest the Mordvins, we are done here!"

"Yes sir," two men muttered as they moved out from behind their king and toward the cowering Mordvins. They grabbed the three remaining men, one clutching his side where he had been slashed. "What are we to do with them?"

"Chain them, we shall take them to Memelgrád for holding and then trial."

"Very good sir."

Meinekinus turned back to the Russians, "Now, there is to be no bloodshed in my absence. If I get any word of attacks against pagans or Mordvins it shall be you six who will pay in blood. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly, m'lord."

"Good." Meinekinus took leave of the Council and headed out of the city in haste. It was many miles before the nearest Prussian road, so the going was to be slow and rough, but summer promised decent weather and no fear of cold or snow.

"What shall we do if Mordvia is unhappy with this move?" one soldier asked his King.

"We shall defend ourselves, but that is all. I am not trying to provoke a war with Mordvia."

"Your father often said that this was the right move to make."

"I know, and that is why I have done so. But once we get back to Memelgrád we are to return Prussia to a state of peace and not of war, as my father did."

The group stopped at the top of a hill overlooking the Prussian camp. Below them thousands of soldiers went about their daily lives. The guards took away the prisoners and with only a few close guards Meinekinus headed back to his own personal tent. Waiting for him on his desk was a parchment labeled with the Danish coat of arms.

"It came for you a few hours ago, urgent from the King of Denmark," the aide said quietly, organizing papers. Meinekinus sighed heavily, only no news would mean good news. He cracked the seal and quickly read through the hastily translated Prussian. But as he read the blood drained slightly from his face. "M'lord?"

"Denmark has been invaded!"

"By whom? Germany?"

"No... its... the Caliph." Meinekinus looked up at the aide who seemed rather shocked. It was at this point, with Islam entering the backdoor of the Prussian realm that Meinekinus felt alone in the world.

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know yet, I don't know."